Thank you, Faye Dartmouth. I'm glad you like the story so much ;)

Don't you worry, Callista Malone, I'm going to finish this story. I don't like leaving anything unfinished. Thank you for the review :)

Thank you for the praise, Catspaw. No, I never saw Babylon 5. My idea of soulhuhunters comes from completely another place. Unfortunately, grammar is not my strong point. That's what beta-reader is for. But sometimes we both miss something.

Thank you, Cerasi5. I'm trying hard to improve.

I'm glad you like the bonds' description, Athena Leigh. Thank you for the review.

Thanks, TallyG. Guess after this fic Obi would need much more than an ice pack and the card :D

Many of you seem to like my descriptions, so I suggest you try my two short stories. They're on my profile. I guess you'll like them. But I must warn you that both stories are sad.

Now on to the story.

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"What have you done?" Qui-Gon couldn't keep the desperation and anger from filling his voice.  If Tarlott hurt Obi-Wan - I would… If Obi-Wan…  Qui-Gon found he could not complete the thought.

"I… um… wait… I…" The man backed from the furious Jedi Master, shaking and mumbling in fear. No coherent word left his mouth.

Qui-Gon made a step forward. Tarlott backed further, stumbling over a chair. With a shrill clang, the chair flew to the side, tipping over a low table with medical instruments. The instruments scattered around the room in a loud clatter. Tarlott kneeled and started to gather the instruments with shaking hands, trying to keep as far away from Qui-Gon as possible. The Jedi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but the breath hitched in his throat as his eyes fell onto Obi-Wan, and he coughed.

"What happened?" Qui-Gon asked again, hoarsely. Tarlott looked up at him with wide eyes.

"I… I didn't mean to… He just…" He climbed back onto his feet, putting, or rather dropping, the instruments onto another table.

Qui-Gon, irritated by Tarlott's incoherent mumbling, took the man by the shoulders and shook him. Tarlott's eyes, full of panic, fixed on him, then suddenly darted to look behind Qui-Gon, widening - if that was possible - even more. Qui-Gon jerked his head to look back as well. What he saw made his heart miss a beat. Obi-Wan was sitting upright on the bed, staring at them. A hot wave of happiness washed over Qui-Gon, making his heart leap in joy. He dropped Tarlott and hurried to his Padawan.

He sat onto the chair beside the bed, as close to Obi-Wan as he could get, and took one of Obi-Wan's hands in his larger ones. The boy's eyes moved to stare at him, but something in their blue-green depth made Qui-Gon frown.

"Obi-Wan," he ventured carefully, rubbing the boy's still cold hands soothingly.

The Padawan didn't even stir, continuing to stare at his Master. Nothing changed in his eyes. It seemed Obi-Wan didn't recognize Qui-Gon.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked softly, feeling cold tendrils of fear creep up his spine, as a sense of dread settled in his gut.

Obi-Wan didn't answer.

Qui-Gon raised his hand and waved it in front of Obi-Wan's face. The boy followed the hand with his eyes. Qui-Gon relaxed slightly.

"Padawan, please, talk to me." A tinge of plea crept into the Master's voice.

Obi-Wan's eyes returned to his face. But the younger Jedi was still dead silent.

"Obi-Wan, do you recognize me?" Qui-Gon asked, feeling his innards twist into tight nods.

"Yes."

Qui-Gon almost jumped at the sound of Obi-Wan's voice. Then he heaved a huge sigh of relief, feeling tension start to leave his body.

"Thank the Force!" Qui-Gon drew Obi-Wan to himself and hugged him tightly. The boy didn't resist but didn't respond either. Qui-Gon pulled back slightly to look at his Padawan's face.

"How do you feel?" he asked worriedly.

"Fine."

Qui-Gon's back went rigid at the reply. Obi-Wan's voice sounded lifeless, somehow… mechanical. Droids might talk like this but not living people. Qui-Gon pulled back even more, almost falling into the chair. He examined his Padawan carefully. The boy was still pale. He sat straight, staring ahead of him with empty eyes.

His eyes.

The spark that was usually there, colouring them, playing in their depth, was gone now. Now they were eyes of a dummy. This was not his Obi-Wan. This was…

"What have you done to him?" Qui-Gon asked in a weary voice, suddenly feeling as though the weight of a galaxy had been placed upon his shoulders.

"Um, well, you see, a soulhunter has formed a link with him," Tarlott came closer to the bed, throwing sidelong wary glances at Qui-Gon. "I tried to break that link and…" He looked into Obi-Wan's eyes and shivered. "I'm sorry, I seem to have broken the link, tying his soul to his body as well."

He was avoiding looking at Qui-Gon, apparently, afraid of the Master's fury. But the Jedi could no longer feel anger. Tarlott finally turned to look at Qui-Gon, and the Master was struck by the pity he saw in the man's eyes.

"But if his soul is no longer there why is he still alive?" Qui-Gon felt like someone else was talking for him. He was just a detached observer, watching all this ridiculous performance unfold before his eyes.  This can't be happening!

Tarlott lowered himself heavily onto the nearby chair. "Not all of his soul is gone…"

Qui-Gon felt hope rise in him. Maybe everything could be all right after all?

"…just the part that is his real self."

The hope plummeted to the floor to shatter into million brilliant splinters with a distinguishable sound of a breaking glass. Qui-Gon dropped his head into his hands.

Obi-Wan continued to stare into nothingness with the glassy eyes of a lifeless doll.

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Anisa watched the traffic and buildings zip past her in an endless whirlpool of the big city's life. The air taxi she was sitting in flew with a dizzying speed, faster than normal - but still not fast enough for her. She was impatient to get to Obi-Wan; she needed to get to him now, or…

Anisa threw a quick sidelong glance at Snadi. The ex-Jedi was sitting straight, looking indifferently out of the air taxi's window. His face was bearing an expression of boredom. Apparently, the view made no impression on him.  Calm. He's calm. But why shouldn't he be? He has nothing to worry about…  Anisa thought, clasping her hands tightly. She briefly wondered why his composed face evoked such jealousy and anger in her that she wanted to hit him. She clasped her hands even tighter, hoping he hadn't heard her thoughts.

A tall, shining with multiple windows, building - their destination - loomed ahead. They were approaching quickly. Anisa sighed in relief.  Soon.  Waiting was becoming harder with every moment. She feared she would do something stupid if she had to wait much longer.

Suddenly a tearing pain shot through her brain like a sharp needle. She clutched her head with both hands, trying to drive the pain away.  This is no simple headache. She thought, almost detached. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Snadi turn to her, obviously wondering what was wrong. Another burst of pain exploded in her head, and she moaned, burying her fingers in a mass of hair that escaped the hairpin she wore, and now hung loosely around her face.

Her thoughts became fuzzy, disconnected, their shreds swimming around in her head. Her vision was clouded. Her mind was running in pained gloomy loops, asking itself what had happened over and over again. Then she felt like her brain had been ripped from her scull by some unknown and merciless force. She thought she felt someone's presence, but the sensation was dim, incoherent, lost in a haze of her own thoughts.

Black spots danced on the edge of her vision, expanding, impudent - they were claiming more and more of her field of vision. Until she could no longer see anything but blackness. Her head fell back limply as she succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness.

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