TallyG, hey don't hit my Obi! Besides, who said it was only her pretty face that made him fall for her? Thanks for the review. Cerasi5, thanks. And it'll get even more interesting… No, I'm not giving the plot away.
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"Well, you see," the medic answered the unspoken question. "It is a madhouse."
"What?!" Qui-Gon was incredulous. "Are you saying Obi-Wan needs a psychiatrist?"
"No," the medic shifted nervously under Qui-Gon's inquiring gaze. "But Rahe Tarlott is the only person in this city who knows enough about soulhunters to be able to help." Qui-Gon felt a stone he didn't know was there fall from his heart. This situation was dire enough as it was. The need in psychiatrist would have been entirely too much. The thought of Obi-Wan being locked in a madhouse was almost as painful and stunning as the thought of him being dead.
"But I can't leave Obi-Wan alone," Qui-Gon looked over at the bed where his apprentice lay - so still, looking so young and vulnerable. The Master's heart ached to see him like this. "Can't I just call this Tarlott and ask him to come here?"
"I'm afraid not. I'd say he's a bit of a coward."
Just one thing after another. Qui-Gon sighed. "What do you mean, a coward? He's afraid to go out into the city?"
"No, he simply doesn't like strangers, he doesn't trust them. The only way you get him come here is going there and persuading him to come with you."
Qui-Gon gently rubbed the cold fragile hand of his Padawan he was still holding as if trying to give it some warmth. "You say he doesn't trust strangers, but you seem to not be a stranger to him. Why don't you call him?" He was willing to use all possibilities that could let him stay.
"Umm, you see…" The medic blushed a little and stared at his feet. "We had err… an argument, and now he's angry at me. My call would only make things worse."
This was it. Qui-Gon had to go. He felt helpless. How could he leave Obi-Wan alone if only for the short time? What if Obi-Wan woke up to find out he was gone? Would he feel himself abandoned? How could Qui-Gon do such a thing to the boy who had become the most important person in his life? The Master gently smoothed the padawan's disheveled hair. He would have to go. There simply wasn't other option.
Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan again. Something - perhaps the Force or maybe his sixth sense - told him to not leave the boy alone. But if he doesn't bring that man Obi-Wan would die. Cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach at the thought. He couldn't let that happen. He would save his son.
"Please, Padawan, hold on," he whispered to Obi-Wan, knowing the boy wouldn't hear, but still hoping.
He reflected on the time they had spent together - short but so full it seemed like a lifetime. They shared so much. And they had even more in the future… if they have this future. The thought painfully reverberated through his mind, brining him back into the moment. This was not time for reflection. They would reflect on it later - together. There would be time. Obi-Wan would turn nineteen soon… They would make a great birthday party. It wasn't usual for Jedi to celebrate birthdays like that, but Qui-Gon would organize a party for his Padawan and his friends.
Friends! It dawned on him: he need not leave Obi-Wan all alone. I can't stay with him, but Padawan Turnell can. It felt right somehow. Qui-Gon took out his comlink and called Kamon.
Five minutes later Kamon and Namira appeared at the door. Namira looked frightened at first by Obi-Wan's appearance, but soon her compassionate self took over, and she sat next to Kamon at Obi-Wan's bed, looking down at the motionless boy with large blue watery eyes. She hasn't known Obi-Wan for long but he somehow managed to attract everyone he met. Right now she felt like he was her friend - not a close friend but certainly a dear one.
Knowing that Obi-Wan wouldn't be alone now, Qui-Gon went to the door. He didn't turn because he was afraid that if he did he wouldn't be able to make it out the room.
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Again Anisa found herself walking down the corridors of the huge building. This building seemed to become some kind of a secluded world for everyone involved: representatives of High Houses Imata and Arones (Imata has even found his death here), their aides, the three Jedi and the usual staff. Of course the staff and most of the aides had no idea what really was going on in this little piece of universe. Anisa smiled and bitterly. She, on contrary, knew entirely too much - too much to sleep well. She was aware that her knowledge might very well become the reason for her death. After nine years she had absolutely no illusions about Arones and his ways.
But it didn't bother her now. Her thirst for Obi-Wan's soul had become too great to pay attention to anything else. And it was growing with every passing minute. She had waited too long. Unconsciously she let out a growl, not noticing people jumping away from her. She had to get to Obi-Wan as soon as possible or otherwise she might go insane.
This was the back of a medal - a soulhunter could go completely mad if he or she stayed away from the victim they were already connected to for a too long time.
Anisa walked swiftly, barely taking notice of her surroundings. People tried to stay away from her, seeing fire of determination and a bit of insanity in her unusually bright green eyes. In her time with Arones, some people, including several Arones' aides, called her a witch behind her back. Some even believed she was a real witch. Sometimes she used it to her advantage, sometimes she was annoyed by it.
Her mind was working in only one direction - get to Obi-Wan. The thought prevailed in her consciousness, whisking all others away. She was so focused on her goal that she almost missed the other Padawan - as she called Kamon in her mind - and Namira Imata. They were heading towards her down the same corridor. Concern was plainly written all over their faces.
Noticing them, Anisa abruptly slowed her stride, rearranging her somewhat tousled hair. She approached the pair in a much more sedate pace. Namira threw her a wary glance. Is she afraid of me? Anisa wondered. She felt disdain at the thought, yet the slightest bit of satisfaction was lurking somewhere on the verge of her consciousness.
"Hello," Anisa greeted them in a most pleasant voice she could muster, plastering a false smile on her face. She noted Namira's hand grasp Kamon's elbow tighter. The Padawan, on the other hand, seemed unperturbed by her presence. Anisa suddenly had a disturbing feeling that he could see through all of her masks right into her soul. She swallowed uneasily.
Kamon returned the greeting, though his voice was much less pleasant, laced with cold.
"Ah, do you know where Master Jinn is?" Anisa decided that perhaps Obi-Wan would be with his Master. Not a pleasant thought. She didn't know how to deal with a tall, skilled and, apparently, overprotective Jedi.
"He's in the Medical center with Obi-Wan," Namira blurted out before she could think. Seemingly realizing that she probably shouldn't have said that, Namira looked at the floor, trying to hide slight panic that rose in her eyes.
Anisa had to fight to keep a triumphant smile from spreading on her face. What a naivety!
"If you'll excuse us," Kamon said, pulling Namira with him. "We need to go. Have a nice day." He quickly led the girl away, supposedly to that very Medical center Namira mentioned.
Anisa was left alone in the corridor. She had to find a way to get to Obi-Wan. But how does one go against the Jedi? She couldn't deceive them - their damned Force would most likely alert them to her deception. She could try to lure them away, but she was almost certain they wouldn't rise to the bait. So what to do?
She leaned against a window frame, looking out into the blue sky that was never dark. A casual observer might have thought she was enjoying a panorama that opened from the large window. But she wasn't interested in the urbanistic sight. Her mind was working hard, seeking solutions, then discarding them one by one.
She sighed, rubbing her forehead wearily. Was there nothing she could do? Maybe she should simply give up, steeling herself for the inevitable madness. But she never was one to give up so easily.
Who could confront a Jedi? Only another Jedi. Or… EX-JEDI! She breathed in relief. Of course, that's the solution. Very conveniently she happened to know one ex-Jedi. She turned away from the window and headed to the public comm. center. She might be starting to go insane but the part of her mind that was still thinking rationally warned her to not go to her own quarters. What if Arones had sent someone there to kill her? She didn't want to find out. Especially now that she had a solution to her little problem.
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Standing on a landing platform, Qui-Gon hailed an air taxi. Though he was physically here, in his mind he was not. His thoughts still lingered in the medical room – with Obi-Wan. How was he doing? Qui-Gon could still feel the presence in the Force that was his Padawan's, though it was pretty much muted by the shields that he had thrown up around himself and dimmed by the pain that apparently still held the boy in its malevolent clutches. Qui-Gon could only sigh at the efforts Obi-Wan made to protect him . He admired the courage of the eighteen-year-old who chose to stay alone in his mind, enduring the agony his body was obviously consumed by, but spare his Master from even the echo of that torment. Yet he felt helpless and guilty at being unable if not to help then to at least share in Obi-Wan's suffering.
Getting into the air taxi, Qui-Gon had to forcefully shake himself out of his grim thoughts when the driver asked him where to go. The Jedi gave him the address the medic had provided him with.
"Hey, man, I'm not going there," the driver exclaimed as soon as he heard the address, shaking his head frantically and showing all other signs of nervousness.
"And why is that?" the Jedi Master asked calmly, though on the inside he wanted to yell at the driver to go where he was told or throw the driver out and fly the speeder himself.
"Are you kidding? I'm not going to the Devil's House! I don't want to be eaten alive!" The driver seemed to get more agitated with each passing second.
"Eaten?" For a moment Qui-Gon thought that maybe this man was a former patient of that very same house. "I thought it was a madhouse," he added, trying to sound as friendly as possible in case his weird assumption was true. Where in the blazes is that medic sending me?!
"Yeah, a madhouse, where they eat people." The driver looked at Qui-Gon suspiciously. "Are you one of them?" he suddenly asked in a menacing tone, straightening obviously trying to look more intimidating. "Get out of my taxi!"
This is insanity. Qui-Gon thought in dismay. He briefly considered mind-tricking the driver, but the man was too focused on his fear – and Qui-Gon himself was too worried for Obi-Wan – for the mind-trick to work. Instead the Jedi tried to feign as peaceful an expression on his face as he could muster with all the confusion and sense of urgency that were boiling inside him.
"All right then. Get me to the nearest place to it you can. I'll pay you double price."
Apparently the driver was not insane after all, for his eyes lit up at the mention of double price. "Sure, man." His voice was filled with greed. Qui-Gon only sighed and shook his head. The air taxi shot up from the landing platform and into the sky.
Half an hour later the same air taxi left the line of traffic and headed to one of the landing platforms in another district of the city. Here, the buildings were not so shining and tall as in the business district, sometimes even showing signs of poverty and untidiness. The air taxi landed on one of the lower levels. Unlike Coruscant this city's lower levels were inhabited by not only scum, but also by decent people who simply couldn't afford living on the upper levels. The city was much younger and hadn't yet acquired the menacing and shadowed atmosphere of Coruscant's underbelly. Besides, in contrast to the never-ending night in the lower levels of a famous city-planet here reigned the never-ending day. But the city promised to become, if not as overpopulated as Coruscant, then at least as polluted.
Giving the driver due money, Qui-Gon got out of the air taxi. Creatures of random species roamed the streets, moving around with no apparent pattern, seemingly having nothing else to do. The houses here were mostly shabby and dirty. Qui-Gon looked around in confusion, seeing nothing even vaguely resemble what he was looking for. Suddenly he heard a roar of engines as the air taxi sped away from him.
So nice of him, Qui-Gon thought sarcastically, brushing a hand through his hair tiredly. He noticed an old man a few steps away watching him peculiarly. Deciding to try his luck, Qui-Gon quickly approached the man whose clothes clearly had seen better days.
"Sir, could you tell me please where the Woland's House is?" He asked the man politely, looking down at him. The man seemed to be taken aback at being addressed as 'sir', but he quickly hid his surprise.
"Devil's House," the man repeated knowingly. And this one, too, Qui-Gon thought feeling irritation rising in him. "You are not from here," the man said, looking up and down Qui-Gon with an appraising look; and noticing, apparently, Qui-Gon's frown at how he had called the establishment.
"No, I'm not. But I need to find that house."
"And what do you want with the servant of Devil?" the man asked, looking at the tall Master with curiosity and pity written all over his face his wrinkled face.
"Look, I don't know what devil has to do with all this!" Qui-Gon realized he was on the verge of exploding and took a few deep, calming breaths. "I just need to meet with the owner of that house," he continued in a more composed voice, folding his hands before him.
"Well, the Devil has much to do with this as Woland is a name of Devil. I see real need in your eyes. Follow me and I'll show you the way there." The man started to walk with Qui-Gon following him.
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Obi-Wan saw tears well up in Qui-Gon's eyes. His Master, crying? This was not right. He could feel consciousness slipping away from him slowly but steadily, hurt clouding the world around him with hazy mist, stealing details from his vision. Despite the pain that rocked his whole body, twisting his innards into knots of agony, he tried to console Qui-Gon, to say everything was going to be all right. Even if he didn't believe it himself. The Master shouldn't cry. Seeing a desperate and desolate expression on Qui-Gon's face made his heart ache, bringing more torment than any physical pain ever could. His lips felt swollen; he could barely move them. Closing his eyes, he brought all his will into the simple action of speech. Still all he managed to say was: "Master!"
The effort drained him. Blood thundered in his ears, blocking any outside sounds. He felt Qui-Gon's breath on his skin – stabbing hot – Qui-Gon was whispering something. With an effort that brought new anguish, Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look at his father. Qui-Gon's face was distorted in Obi-Wan's failing vision and he strained to see clearer, at least this one time. What if he was never able to see him again? The thought brought inexplicable agony. Never seeing Qui-Gon again was worse than dying.
He didn't want to die, but if that was his fate, he would accept it like a Jedi. He wouldn't whine and complain. Obi-Wan only wanted for Qui-Gon to know how much he loved him. He couldn't say it though for his strength was all but depleted, all energy fled from his ailing body that was slowly shutting down. He couldn't even feel his body any more – just excruciating pain. Vaguely he remembered Qui-Gon once telling him jokingly that one could easily read his soul in his eyes. Now he hoped it was true – he hoped he could convey his love, his gratitude for the man through his eyes.
Cold tendrils of pain licked at his brain, quickly turning into white-hot waves, and he closed his eyes at this new torture. He couldn't let Qui-Gon see this, as much as he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. Some things seemed to reach for Obi-Wan's brain – things like shaggy spider's paws. They blindly searched for him, trying to clutch him. He recoiled in disgust. Still they grabbed him, encircling his mind in a hideous pulsing knot of paws. Obi-Wan cried out as they started to press in on his brain, suffocating him, squeezing the life out of him. Sharp needles cut into him, piercing his very essence. He whimpered inaudibly for he had no voice left.
Ominous darkness was all around him – never-ending, ubiquitous. He didn't know whether his eyes were open or closed or if he even had them. He couldn't feel anything aside the throbbing pain that had extended all over his body and consciousness, wrenching his soul. A quivering sob escaped his parted dry lips. What was this? What had he done to deserve such agony?
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