Stars in the Darkness - Part Thirty-One
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Sinja-Bau slowly opened her eyes and found herself looking into the large, leaf-green eyes of Master Yoda. The two were alone in Yoda's meditation chamber, both sitting on cushions, the late morning light streaming in through the windows. The ex-Jedi had been meeting with Yoda for most of the morning, having arrived at the Temple just as the sun rose. She had unburdened to him what had happened last night with Dalan and Onara, conveying her fears and her disquiet at how easily she had called upon the dark side of the Force.
After listening to her, Yoda had instructed her to meditate, which Sinja- Bau had been doing for the last two hours, but her meditation had not calmed her nor driven away her fears. If anything, they had magnified, because during her meditation, her terrifying visions from the time she had been insane had come back to her; visions of the Jedi Temple in flames, the slaughterer of the light and the broken bodies of the younglings.
"Peace you did not find," Yoda said softly.
Sinja-Bau lowered her head and looked at hands where they were clasped tightly in her lap.
"No, Master, I did not."
"Surprised I am not."
Sinja-Bau lifted her head and looked over at Yoda. "You're not?"
"Strong the dark side has grown. Powerful and potent. Ever since the day Master Qui-Gon from his mission to Naboo returned and told us of the Sith he encountered, its power has grown and grown."
"I felt it, even as I meditated. Like a cold, shadowy presence just on the edge of my awareness."
"Many have felt this. Even I."
"But, what is the Council doing about it, Master?"
"What the Council must," was all Yoda would say. Sinja-Bau found herself somewhat annoyed with that cryptic, vague answer.
"However," Yoda added, as if conscious of her annoyance, "being vigilant we are. You are not the only Jedi to confess to having touched the dark side."
"I'm not?"
"Many have reported such things. Some have even..." Yoda stopped and, his small shoulders rising and falling, released a heavy sigh.
"Gone over to the dark side?" Sinja-Bau asked in a hushed voice, a tremor of fear skirling down her spine.
"No, but close they have come. Those we have sequestered away, or sent on retreat. In some cases, they have had to be retrained. A few...," and Yoda slowly shook his head, "....a few we have had to expel from the Order."
"Did you strip their Force powers from them?" Sinja-Bau asked, unable to stop the bitter words from tumbling out of her mouth.
Yoda tilted his head, staring silently at Sinja-Bau. She looked back at him, then sighed.
"Forgive me, Master. It is not seemly for me to harbor such resentment. The Force has been compassionate and given me back my powers."
"That it has."
Sinja-Bau looked down at her hands, her fingers weaving intricate patterns as they twined about each other.
"Master?"
"Yes, Sinja-Bau."
"I've been thinking...about returning to the Order. Taking up my duties again."
"Really?"
Sinja-Bau raised her head and saw a tiny smile on the Jedi Master's wizened face. She returned it.
"Yes, I have."
"But, what about young Master Lenor and your training of him?"
"I've so much enjoyed training Ben. Truly I have. He's such a joy and a delight. And a challenge," Sinja-Bau added, her lips curling up in a fond smile. "It's because I've so enjoyed training him that I thought perhaps I could be assigned as a proctor to the younglings...."
Sinja-Bau's voice fell away for she saw that Yoda was no longer listening to her. His face was creased in pain, his eyes tightly shut.
"Master," she cried, reaching over and touching his arm. "What's wrong?"
"Pain, terrible pain," he grunted.
"Are you ill?" she asked, about to rise from the cushion to summon help.
"No, no," Yoda moaned, fiercely shaking his head. "Pain is not mine. Master Obi-Wan. Terrible pain he is in. Terrible."
"Obi-Wan," Sinja-Bau whispered, her heart thudding in her chest.
Then she also felt the seismic tremor in the Force, like a dark, hellish wave surging through space and time, and she heard a voice crying out. Obi- Wan's voice, screaming out his pain and his tortured denial and, along with that grief-stricken voice, a vision of Ben's face flared in Sinja-Bau's mind, and she knew what was the source of Obi-Wan's terrible agony.
"Ben!" she shouted, leaping up from the meditation cushion and running out of the room.
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Anakin sat, his hands clasped hard between his knees, leaning forward, his body coiled for action. But here, he reminded himself, there was no enemy to fight. Or, at least, not an enemy he, as a Jedi Padawan, could hope to defeat. The enemy roaming these sterile, pristine corridors was one he had to leave to the skill of those who were healers.
He looked around. We're a tableau of pain, he thought, he, Obi-Wan, and Sinja-Bau. The three of them were as still and as silent as statuary within the waiting room of the hospital. To his left, Sinja-Bau sat rigidly, her hands clasped tightly on the arms of her chair, her face mottled with grief, her green-blue eyes staring unseeing across the room.
Anakin followed her gaze. Obi-Wan stood, alone, his hood pulled over his head, his back to the room, in front of a large window that looked out upon a world going about its business as it had day after day, centuries upon centuries, oblivious to the anguish inside this room.
His master had not said much since Anakin had found him cradling Ben's body, struggling to keep death from his son as he surrounded him with the Force until the med-pod arrived. He had said even less when he and Anakin arrived at the hospital with the med-pods which had transported Onara and Ben. Both had been rushed into emergency surgery. Both were in critical condition. Both were not expected to survive.
Soon after, Sinja-Bau had arrived, but it was Anakin who had to tell her what had happened because Obi-Wan, by then, had turned away from Anakin, from everyone, waiting within the solitary confinement of his own anxious thoughts and emotions for word on Onara's and Ben's conditions.
In all the years Anakin had been Obi-Wan's padawan, he had never felt so closed off from his master. There had been times, of course, during his apprenticeship, when Anakin had wondered if Obi-Wan regretted having made that vow to Qui-Gon to train him, but never had he felt so apart from Obi- Wan as he did now, so adrift, so alone.
"Anakin!"
His head snapped up. Padmé, accompanied by one of her handmaidens, ran towards him. She wore her official senatorial robes, so she must have come straight from a meeting of the Senate. Anakin rose from the chair and went over to her. She stopped and looked up at him, her beautiful dark eyes entreating him.
"Anakin, Anakin," she whispered, as she took his hands between hers. "I just heard. Oh, Anakin. Please tell me they're all right."
Anakin shook his head. "We're waiting to hear. Onara was stabbed. She's still in surgery"
Padmé drew in a sharp gasp, squeezing his hands. "And Ben?"
Anakin swallowed hard. "Ben...Ben was shot. With a blaster. Master Obi-Wan used the Force to stabilize him, but, Padmé," and he suddenly sobbed, unable to stanch his grief and anger, "He's so little! Gods! What kind of an animal would shoot a baby?"
Padmé reached over and cupped his face with her soft hands, stroking the tears as they flowed down his face, oblivious to the ones now falling down hers. "I don't know, Ani. I truly don't know."
He wept then, no longer trying to be a Jedi, no longer even trying to be a man. He was just a little boy, weeping in the arms of his mother at the injustices and cruelties of the universe. Padmé gently put her arms around him, and Anakin nestled his face in the soft warmth of her neck, dimly aware of the scent of her perfume.
Finally, after he had wept out the tears he had struggled to hold in since arriving at the hospital, he gently moved away from Padmé, rubbing at his nose. She reached into a pocket of her robe and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to him. As he wiped his nose, he looked over and saw Obi-Wan had not stirred from his silent, solitary vigil at the window, his back still to them, his hood still drawn over his head.
_Master_, Anakin sent out to him, but he could not bring himself to violate the shield Obi-Wan had erected around himself. He wasn't even sure if his master was trying to keep others out or something within himself locked in. Glancing over at Sinja-Bau, Anakin saw the older woman's eyes on him. They were full of empathy, but she too remained still and silent.
Padmé took Anakin by the hand, and her handmaiden, whom he now saw was the one named Dormé, moved over to a chair next to Sinja-Bau, her dark eyes, so much like Padmé's, shimmering with tears. Padmé guided Anakin back to his chair and sat next to him. She kept his hand between hers.
"What happened, Ani? Who did these terrible things? And why?"
Anakin shot her a hard glance, unable to keep the hatred out of his voice. "Senator Gillom."
"Gillom?"
"He didn't do it himself, of course, but he hired someone to do it. Lursan."
"Lursan? Dalan's friend?"
Anakin nodded. He quickly told Padmé how Dalan had contacted Obi-Wan upon learning the senator had hired Lursan to kill Onara.
"But we never thought that Ben was also a target. Why would Gillom want to hurt him? Onara's on the Ethics Committee investigating him. Why hurt Ben?"
"Anakin, I know Gillom is a scoundrel and a crook, but I can't imagine he would want to see a child harmed."
Anakin angrily waved his arm down the hallway to where the surgical rooms were located.
"You don't have to imagine it, Padmé," he snarled, not wishing to be angry with her, but unable to stop himself. "Ben's down there, near death, and Gillom was the one who put the contract out on him and Onara."
"But, maybe it was an accident, Ani. Did Ben get in the way somehow, or did Lursan say why he did it?"
"No, Ben didn't get in the way," he sneered at her, the rage and horror he had felt at seeing his weeping master holding Ben to his chest overwhelming him. "Lursan hunted Ben down. Then he hid somewhere, like a vile, loathsome sneak of a killer and shot him, in cold blood, as he was running towards Obi-Wan."
Anakin's eyes blazed. "As for Lursan he got away. The entire complex was searched, but there was no sign of him. A Bimm attendant was found, however. Murdered. Lursan killed him, stabbed him the same way he stabbed Onara. But if that Sith-spawn think he's getting off Coruscant, he can forget it. There are security forces and Jedi at every spaceport. He'll be found."
Anakin clenched his hands into hard, tight fists. "He'll be found," he repeated in a grim voice, the words giving him a fervent sense of satisfaction. And great anticipation.
Then he looked down. Padme was massaging his hands, smoothing away his fists until his fingers were once more loose and open. She slid her palm against his and, at her touch, Anakin's rage and vengeance vanished, and all he felt now was shame at having lashed out at her.
"I'm sorry, Padmé. I didn't meant to yell at you. It's just...it's just...he's only a baby!"
She looked up at him, only compassion in her dark eyes. "You don't have to apologize, Ani," she said softly. "You never have to apologize to me."
He looked at her, both surprised and grateful, a tiny flame igniting at her words within the darkness inside his soul. Padmé gave him a small smile, but then the sorrow returned to her eyes.
Anakin lowered his head and touched her forehead with his. "I can't help but think it's my fault somehow. I don't know why I think that. I haven't done anything to Senator Gillom or to Lursan, but I can't help thinking I've had some part to play in this."
"You mustn't blame yourself, Anakin," Sinja-Bau said, her voice cracked and weary. He raised his head and looked over at her. "I looked into Lursan's eyes, day after day, stood next to him, spoke with him and, although I suspected there was something not quite right with him, I never saw this. I never saw it."
Anakin was about to dispute Sinja-Bau's assessment of her role in the tragic events, but was startled when he heard a voice from across the room; a voice he had heard nearly every day for the past ten years, but never with such heaviness of spirit.
"No," Obi-Wan said, his voice low, but discernable, his face hidden by the cowl of his hood as he stood before the window. "I was there. I could have saved him. I should have saved him. But I was not thinking like a Jedi, only as a father. I failed him, and I failed her."
"Stop it, all of you!"
Anakin blinked, startled, as Padmé turned her head swiftly around, her dark- eyed gaze sweeping across the three. "You're Jedi, not gods! And, not being gods, that means you're human, and humans make mistakes. It's arrogant to think that just because you can wield the Force, you can also control destiny or look into the mind of a madman. Continue along this path, thinking you're above the vagaries of fate and the limitations of your own humanity, and you doom yourselves. And us all."
"Padmé," Anakin began, "You have no idea what you're talking---"
"Hush, Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice, barely a whisper, but as sharp and keen as a laser, cut through the air. "Padmé is right, Padawan. She is right."
Anakin was about to protest, but felt Padmé's hand on his arm. He looked down into her beautiful face, and his anger, once again, was quieted. She took his hand in hers and held it, both of them lost within their own thoughts. Then she leaned close to him.
"Where is Dalan? Why isn't he here?"
"We sent word to him as soon as we arrived at the hospital. He and Keria are on their way."
Padmé nodded, then turned away. Anakin followed her gaze and saw a physician coming down the hall. He stood, Padmé following. Sinja-Bau watched the physician, a gray-haired, dark-skinned woman, as she entered the waiting room. The ex-Jedi continued to sit, however, Dormé next to her, but her body was as taut as a strung bow.
Obi-Wan, upon hearing the approaching footsteps, turned from the window, pushing his hood from his head. As had happened when he first came upon Obi- Wan and Ben in the _Hall of Worlds_, Anakin cringed at the naked, raw pain in his master's eyes. The physician stopped and looked around the room.
"I'm Dr. Melsi. Is the family of Onara and Ben Lenor here?"
Padmé moved forward. "Onara's husband is on his way. But we are their friends. Please, tell us, how are they?"
Dr. Melsi wearily rubbed the back of her neck. "Lady Lenor is going to be fine. She lost a great deal of blood and sustained some rather nasty internal injuries, but she'll live. It will be a long recovery, however, and she'll need to stay in the hospital for a week or so."
Even from where he stood, Anakin could sense the relief in his master's body but, like him, he still waited for the rest of the physician's report.
"And Ben?" Padmé asked, and Anakin was not surprised she had become, in a sense, unofficial spokesperson for them. He knew he could not trust himself to speak, and neither, he suspected, could Obi-Wan or Sinja-Bau.
Dr. Melsi moved closer and her eyes, which Anakin now saw were a dark gold, dimmed. He knew what she was about to say, and a part of him wondered whether it get easier or harder for her each time.
"I'm sorry," she said, those two words tolling within the room like an ominous bell. "We did all we could. But his injuries, they were too massive." She shook her head. "There's nothing more we can do."
"He's not----" Padmé choked on the rest of the sentence.
"No, he's still alive, but not for long, I'm afraid. His mother is unconscious and will remain so for quite some time. I was hoping his father was here. One of his parents should be with him before..."
Dr. Melsi stopped and bit her lip, and Anakin saw it didn't get easier for her, delivering such news. He looked over at Obi-Wan. His master's arms were folded within the sleeves of his robe, his head lowered, the lights of the waiting room glimmering on the red-gold of his hair. But, at the physician's last words, he quickly raised his head, has face a rigid mask of barely restrained anguish, his blue-gray eyes steady, but shimmering. He walked over until he was standing just in front of the physician.
"I'm his father. His real father. May I see him?"
The physician frowned slightly, taking in Obi-Wan's Jedi clothing, the lightsaber hanging from his belt and assuming, Anakin imagined, like so many others, that the Jedi were a purely celibate order.
"Yes, of course," she finally said. "He's in the recovery room."
Then she stopped, her eyes widening, for she knew, as they all did now, that Ben would not be recovering. She quickly turned, her shoes squeaking on the floor.
Before following her, Obi-Wan looked silently over at Anakin and, at that moment, Anakin realized he dearly loved this man who was teacher, brother and father. Loved him more than he had thought possible. He gazed deeply into those now familiar eyes that some of his fellow female padawans had secretly confessed to him were some of the most beautiful in the Order, eyes that had, over the years, rebuked and praised him, grown cold with disapproval and warm with pride.
As the two men continued to gaze at each other, Anakin felt he should say something, but what did you say to a man who was going off to say goodbye to his dying son. Especially a son he had barely spent more than a month with, having given him up to be raised by another.
Obi-Wan stared at Anakin for a moment longer, then turned and followed the physician a short distance down the hall and into a room. As Obi-Wan went through the doors, Anakin had a sudden, horrible premonition he was seeing his master for the last time, or at least the man he had come to know and love.
Once Obi-Wan was gone, Padmé turned and threw herself against Anakin's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He put his arms around her, holding her tight. Dormé, her face wet with tears, patted Sinja-Bau's hunched, shuddering shoulders, the older woman's face hidden in her hands as she wept.
Then, as Anakin continued to hold Padmé he saw, through the hot, watery blur of his eyes, two figures moving slowly towards him, and he heard a familiar sound; the click, click, click of a walking stick on the floor.
Turning her face from his tear-soaked tunic, Padmé saw, as Anakin now did, having blinked away his tears, Masters Yoda and Windu approaching. The tiny, aged Jedi was grunting softly as he made his way into the waiting room, Windu just behind him, matching his long strides to that of Yoda's.
Anakin gently disentangled himself from Padme's embrace and went over to Yoda and Mace. He bowed deeply. "Masters."
"Padawan Skywalker," Yoda said, returning Anakin's bow with a slight incline of his head. He took in the others in the waiting room. "Senator Amidala, Mistress Dormé, Master Sinja-Bau."
Sinja-Bau had risen from her chair and was also bowing, her face streaked with tears. Yoda acknowledged her obeisance, then turned his head slowly around.
"Master Obi-Wan. Where is he?"
"With Ben," Anakin said, his throat full and tight.
Yoda gazed at Anakin, then nodded solemnly, his green eyes filled with sorrow, and Anakin saw he did not have to tell Yoda the terrible news about Ben.
"Senator Lenor?" Yoda asked.
"She's going to be all right," Anakin told him. "She'll live."
But, he now wondered, in light of what had happened to Ben, would she want to?
"Thank you, Masters, for having come personally to support Master Obi-Wan," Anakin went on, his voice thick with emotion. "He will need your strength."
Yoda and Windu exchanged a quick glance. Then Yoda peered up at Anakin. "Yes, our strength he will need. Wait with you we will."
Yoda walked over to one of the chairs and, with Windu's help, settled himself in it. Then, placing his walking stick across his lap, he folded his hands before him and closed his eyes. Windu, however, remained standing, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his dark eyes watchful, but troubled as he stared down the hall at the room Anakin had indicated Obi-Wan was in.
Anakin stared at Yoda and Windu. Both were esteemed senior members of the Council and two of the most powerful Jedi in the Order. He was profoundly grateful they had come to help his master in his time of need and, as he turned and looked at the room Obi-Wan had entered, he feared his master's need would be great indeed.
To be continued...
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Sinja-Bau slowly opened her eyes and found herself looking into the large, leaf-green eyes of Master Yoda. The two were alone in Yoda's meditation chamber, both sitting on cushions, the late morning light streaming in through the windows. The ex-Jedi had been meeting with Yoda for most of the morning, having arrived at the Temple just as the sun rose. She had unburdened to him what had happened last night with Dalan and Onara, conveying her fears and her disquiet at how easily she had called upon the dark side of the Force.
After listening to her, Yoda had instructed her to meditate, which Sinja- Bau had been doing for the last two hours, but her meditation had not calmed her nor driven away her fears. If anything, they had magnified, because during her meditation, her terrifying visions from the time she had been insane had come back to her; visions of the Jedi Temple in flames, the slaughterer of the light and the broken bodies of the younglings.
"Peace you did not find," Yoda said softly.
Sinja-Bau lowered her head and looked at hands where they were clasped tightly in her lap.
"No, Master, I did not."
"Surprised I am not."
Sinja-Bau lifted her head and looked over at Yoda. "You're not?"
"Strong the dark side has grown. Powerful and potent. Ever since the day Master Qui-Gon from his mission to Naboo returned and told us of the Sith he encountered, its power has grown and grown."
"I felt it, even as I meditated. Like a cold, shadowy presence just on the edge of my awareness."
"Many have felt this. Even I."
"But, what is the Council doing about it, Master?"
"What the Council must," was all Yoda would say. Sinja-Bau found herself somewhat annoyed with that cryptic, vague answer.
"However," Yoda added, as if conscious of her annoyance, "being vigilant we are. You are not the only Jedi to confess to having touched the dark side."
"I'm not?"
"Many have reported such things. Some have even..." Yoda stopped and, his small shoulders rising and falling, released a heavy sigh.
"Gone over to the dark side?" Sinja-Bau asked in a hushed voice, a tremor of fear skirling down her spine.
"No, but close they have come. Those we have sequestered away, or sent on retreat. In some cases, they have had to be retrained. A few...," and Yoda slowly shook his head, "....a few we have had to expel from the Order."
"Did you strip their Force powers from them?" Sinja-Bau asked, unable to stop the bitter words from tumbling out of her mouth.
Yoda tilted his head, staring silently at Sinja-Bau. She looked back at him, then sighed.
"Forgive me, Master. It is not seemly for me to harbor such resentment. The Force has been compassionate and given me back my powers."
"That it has."
Sinja-Bau looked down at her hands, her fingers weaving intricate patterns as they twined about each other.
"Master?"
"Yes, Sinja-Bau."
"I've been thinking...about returning to the Order. Taking up my duties again."
"Really?"
Sinja-Bau raised her head and saw a tiny smile on the Jedi Master's wizened face. She returned it.
"Yes, I have."
"But, what about young Master Lenor and your training of him?"
"I've so much enjoyed training Ben. Truly I have. He's such a joy and a delight. And a challenge," Sinja-Bau added, her lips curling up in a fond smile. "It's because I've so enjoyed training him that I thought perhaps I could be assigned as a proctor to the younglings...."
Sinja-Bau's voice fell away for she saw that Yoda was no longer listening to her. His face was creased in pain, his eyes tightly shut.
"Master," she cried, reaching over and touching his arm. "What's wrong?"
"Pain, terrible pain," he grunted.
"Are you ill?" she asked, about to rise from the cushion to summon help.
"No, no," Yoda moaned, fiercely shaking his head. "Pain is not mine. Master Obi-Wan. Terrible pain he is in. Terrible."
"Obi-Wan," Sinja-Bau whispered, her heart thudding in her chest.
Then she also felt the seismic tremor in the Force, like a dark, hellish wave surging through space and time, and she heard a voice crying out. Obi- Wan's voice, screaming out his pain and his tortured denial and, along with that grief-stricken voice, a vision of Ben's face flared in Sinja-Bau's mind, and she knew what was the source of Obi-Wan's terrible agony.
"Ben!" she shouted, leaping up from the meditation cushion and running out of the room.
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Anakin sat, his hands clasped hard between his knees, leaning forward, his body coiled for action. But here, he reminded himself, there was no enemy to fight. Or, at least, not an enemy he, as a Jedi Padawan, could hope to defeat. The enemy roaming these sterile, pristine corridors was one he had to leave to the skill of those who were healers.
He looked around. We're a tableau of pain, he thought, he, Obi-Wan, and Sinja-Bau. The three of them were as still and as silent as statuary within the waiting room of the hospital. To his left, Sinja-Bau sat rigidly, her hands clasped tightly on the arms of her chair, her face mottled with grief, her green-blue eyes staring unseeing across the room.
Anakin followed her gaze. Obi-Wan stood, alone, his hood pulled over his head, his back to the room, in front of a large window that looked out upon a world going about its business as it had day after day, centuries upon centuries, oblivious to the anguish inside this room.
His master had not said much since Anakin had found him cradling Ben's body, struggling to keep death from his son as he surrounded him with the Force until the med-pod arrived. He had said even less when he and Anakin arrived at the hospital with the med-pods which had transported Onara and Ben. Both had been rushed into emergency surgery. Both were in critical condition. Both were not expected to survive.
Soon after, Sinja-Bau had arrived, but it was Anakin who had to tell her what had happened because Obi-Wan, by then, had turned away from Anakin, from everyone, waiting within the solitary confinement of his own anxious thoughts and emotions for word on Onara's and Ben's conditions.
In all the years Anakin had been Obi-Wan's padawan, he had never felt so closed off from his master. There had been times, of course, during his apprenticeship, when Anakin had wondered if Obi-Wan regretted having made that vow to Qui-Gon to train him, but never had he felt so apart from Obi- Wan as he did now, so adrift, so alone.
"Anakin!"
His head snapped up. Padmé, accompanied by one of her handmaidens, ran towards him. She wore her official senatorial robes, so she must have come straight from a meeting of the Senate. Anakin rose from the chair and went over to her. She stopped and looked up at him, her beautiful dark eyes entreating him.
"Anakin, Anakin," she whispered, as she took his hands between hers. "I just heard. Oh, Anakin. Please tell me they're all right."
Anakin shook his head. "We're waiting to hear. Onara was stabbed. She's still in surgery"
Padmé drew in a sharp gasp, squeezing his hands. "And Ben?"
Anakin swallowed hard. "Ben...Ben was shot. With a blaster. Master Obi-Wan used the Force to stabilize him, but, Padmé," and he suddenly sobbed, unable to stanch his grief and anger, "He's so little! Gods! What kind of an animal would shoot a baby?"
Padmé reached over and cupped his face with her soft hands, stroking the tears as they flowed down his face, oblivious to the ones now falling down hers. "I don't know, Ani. I truly don't know."
He wept then, no longer trying to be a Jedi, no longer even trying to be a man. He was just a little boy, weeping in the arms of his mother at the injustices and cruelties of the universe. Padmé gently put her arms around him, and Anakin nestled his face in the soft warmth of her neck, dimly aware of the scent of her perfume.
Finally, after he had wept out the tears he had struggled to hold in since arriving at the hospital, he gently moved away from Padmé, rubbing at his nose. She reached into a pocket of her robe and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to him. As he wiped his nose, he looked over and saw Obi-Wan had not stirred from his silent, solitary vigil at the window, his back still to them, his hood still drawn over his head.
_Master_, Anakin sent out to him, but he could not bring himself to violate the shield Obi-Wan had erected around himself. He wasn't even sure if his master was trying to keep others out or something within himself locked in. Glancing over at Sinja-Bau, Anakin saw the older woman's eyes on him. They were full of empathy, but she too remained still and silent.
Padmé took Anakin by the hand, and her handmaiden, whom he now saw was the one named Dormé, moved over to a chair next to Sinja-Bau, her dark eyes, so much like Padmé's, shimmering with tears. Padmé guided Anakin back to his chair and sat next to him. She kept his hand between hers.
"What happened, Ani? Who did these terrible things? And why?"
Anakin shot her a hard glance, unable to keep the hatred out of his voice. "Senator Gillom."
"Gillom?"
"He didn't do it himself, of course, but he hired someone to do it. Lursan."
"Lursan? Dalan's friend?"
Anakin nodded. He quickly told Padmé how Dalan had contacted Obi-Wan upon learning the senator had hired Lursan to kill Onara.
"But we never thought that Ben was also a target. Why would Gillom want to hurt him? Onara's on the Ethics Committee investigating him. Why hurt Ben?"
"Anakin, I know Gillom is a scoundrel and a crook, but I can't imagine he would want to see a child harmed."
Anakin angrily waved his arm down the hallway to where the surgical rooms were located.
"You don't have to imagine it, Padmé," he snarled, not wishing to be angry with her, but unable to stop himself. "Ben's down there, near death, and Gillom was the one who put the contract out on him and Onara."
"But, maybe it was an accident, Ani. Did Ben get in the way somehow, or did Lursan say why he did it?"
"No, Ben didn't get in the way," he sneered at her, the rage and horror he had felt at seeing his weeping master holding Ben to his chest overwhelming him. "Lursan hunted Ben down. Then he hid somewhere, like a vile, loathsome sneak of a killer and shot him, in cold blood, as he was running towards Obi-Wan."
Anakin's eyes blazed. "As for Lursan he got away. The entire complex was searched, but there was no sign of him. A Bimm attendant was found, however. Murdered. Lursan killed him, stabbed him the same way he stabbed Onara. But if that Sith-spawn think he's getting off Coruscant, he can forget it. There are security forces and Jedi at every spaceport. He'll be found."
Anakin clenched his hands into hard, tight fists. "He'll be found," he repeated in a grim voice, the words giving him a fervent sense of satisfaction. And great anticipation.
Then he looked down. Padme was massaging his hands, smoothing away his fists until his fingers were once more loose and open. She slid her palm against his and, at her touch, Anakin's rage and vengeance vanished, and all he felt now was shame at having lashed out at her.
"I'm sorry, Padmé. I didn't meant to yell at you. It's just...it's just...he's only a baby!"
She looked up at him, only compassion in her dark eyes. "You don't have to apologize, Ani," she said softly. "You never have to apologize to me."
He looked at her, both surprised and grateful, a tiny flame igniting at her words within the darkness inside his soul. Padmé gave him a small smile, but then the sorrow returned to her eyes.
Anakin lowered his head and touched her forehead with his. "I can't help but think it's my fault somehow. I don't know why I think that. I haven't done anything to Senator Gillom or to Lursan, but I can't help thinking I've had some part to play in this."
"You mustn't blame yourself, Anakin," Sinja-Bau said, her voice cracked and weary. He raised his head and looked over at her. "I looked into Lursan's eyes, day after day, stood next to him, spoke with him and, although I suspected there was something not quite right with him, I never saw this. I never saw it."
Anakin was about to dispute Sinja-Bau's assessment of her role in the tragic events, but was startled when he heard a voice from across the room; a voice he had heard nearly every day for the past ten years, but never with such heaviness of spirit.
"No," Obi-Wan said, his voice low, but discernable, his face hidden by the cowl of his hood as he stood before the window. "I was there. I could have saved him. I should have saved him. But I was not thinking like a Jedi, only as a father. I failed him, and I failed her."
"Stop it, all of you!"
Anakin blinked, startled, as Padmé turned her head swiftly around, her dark- eyed gaze sweeping across the three. "You're Jedi, not gods! And, not being gods, that means you're human, and humans make mistakes. It's arrogant to think that just because you can wield the Force, you can also control destiny or look into the mind of a madman. Continue along this path, thinking you're above the vagaries of fate and the limitations of your own humanity, and you doom yourselves. And us all."
"Padmé," Anakin began, "You have no idea what you're talking---"
"Hush, Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice, barely a whisper, but as sharp and keen as a laser, cut through the air. "Padmé is right, Padawan. She is right."
Anakin was about to protest, but felt Padmé's hand on his arm. He looked down into her beautiful face, and his anger, once again, was quieted. She took his hand in hers and held it, both of them lost within their own thoughts. Then she leaned close to him.
"Where is Dalan? Why isn't he here?"
"We sent word to him as soon as we arrived at the hospital. He and Keria are on their way."
Padmé nodded, then turned away. Anakin followed her gaze and saw a physician coming down the hall. He stood, Padmé following. Sinja-Bau watched the physician, a gray-haired, dark-skinned woman, as she entered the waiting room. The ex-Jedi continued to sit, however, Dormé next to her, but her body was as taut as a strung bow.
Obi-Wan, upon hearing the approaching footsteps, turned from the window, pushing his hood from his head. As had happened when he first came upon Obi- Wan and Ben in the _Hall of Worlds_, Anakin cringed at the naked, raw pain in his master's eyes. The physician stopped and looked around the room.
"I'm Dr. Melsi. Is the family of Onara and Ben Lenor here?"
Padmé moved forward. "Onara's husband is on his way. But we are their friends. Please, tell us, how are they?"
Dr. Melsi wearily rubbed the back of her neck. "Lady Lenor is going to be fine. She lost a great deal of blood and sustained some rather nasty internal injuries, but she'll live. It will be a long recovery, however, and she'll need to stay in the hospital for a week or so."
Even from where he stood, Anakin could sense the relief in his master's body but, like him, he still waited for the rest of the physician's report.
"And Ben?" Padmé asked, and Anakin was not surprised she had become, in a sense, unofficial spokesperson for them. He knew he could not trust himself to speak, and neither, he suspected, could Obi-Wan or Sinja-Bau.
Dr. Melsi moved closer and her eyes, which Anakin now saw were a dark gold, dimmed. He knew what she was about to say, and a part of him wondered whether it get easier or harder for her each time.
"I'm sorry," she said, those two words tolling within the room like an ominous bell. "We did all we could. But his injuries, they were too massive." She shook her head. "There's nothing more we can do."
"He's not----" Padmé choked on the rest of the sentence.
"No, he's still alive, but not for long, I'm afraid. His mother is unconscious and will remain so for quite some time. I was hoping his father was here. One of his parents should be with him before..."
Dr. Melsi stopped and bit her lip, and Anakin saw it didn't get easier for her, delivering such news. He looked over at Obi-Wan. His master's arms were folded within the sleeves of his robe, his head lowered, the lights of the waiting room glimmering on the red-gold of his hair. But, at the physician's last words, he quickly raised his head, has face a rigid mask of barely restrained anguish, his blue-gray eyes steady, but shimmering. He walked over until he was standing just in front of the physician.
"I'm his father. His real father. May I see him?"
The physician frowned slightly, taking in Obi-Wan's Jedi clothing, the lightsaber hanging from his belt and assuming, Anakin imagined, like so many others, that the Jedi were a purely celibate order.
"Yes, of course," she finally said. "He's in the recovery room."
Then she stopped, her eyes widening, for she knew, as they all did now, that Ben would not be recovering. She quickly turned, her shoes squeaking on the floor.
Before following her, Obi-Wan looked silently over at Anakin and, at that moment, Anakin realized he dearly loved this man who was teacher, brother and father. Loved him more than he had thought possible. He gazed deeply into those now familiar eyes that some of his fellow female padawans had secretly confessed to him were some of the most beautiful in the Order, eyes that had, over the years, rebuked and praised him, grown cold with disapproval and warm with pride.
As the two men continued to gaze at each other, Anakin felt he should say something, but what did you say to a man who was going off to say goodbye to his dying son. Especially a son he had barely spent more than a month with, having given him up to be raised by another.
Obi-Wan stared at Anakin for a moment longer, then turned and followed the physician a short distance down the hall and into a room. As Obi-Wan went through the doors, Anakin had a sudden, horrible premonition he was seeing his master for the last time, or at least the man he had come to know and love.
Once Obi-Wan was gone, Padmé turned and threw herself against Anakin's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He put his arms around her, holding her tight. Dormé, her face wet with tears, patted Sinja-Bau's hunched, shuddering shoulders, the older woman's face hidden in her hands as she wept.
Then, as Anakin continued to hold Padmé he saw, through the hot, watery blur of his eyes, two figures moving slowly towards him, and he heard a familiar sound; the click, click, click of a walking stick on the floor.
Turning her face from his tear-soaked tunic, Padmé saw, as Anakin now did, having blinked away his tears, Masters Yoda and Windu approaching. The tiny, aged Jedi was grunting softly as he made his way into the waiting room, Windu just behind him, matching his long strides to that of Yoda's.
Anakin gently disentangled himself from Padme's embrace and went over to Yoda and Mace. He bowed deeply. "Masters."
"Padawan Skywalker," Yoda said, returning Anakin's bow with a slight incline of his head. He took in the others in the waiting room. "Senator Amidala, Mistress Dormé, Master Sinja-Bau."
Sinja-Bau had risen from her chair and was also bowing, her face streaked with tears. Yoda acknowledged her obeisance, then turned his head slowly around.
"Master Obi-Wan. Where is he?"
"With Ben," Anakin said, his throat full and tight.
Yoda gazed at Anakin, then nodded solemnly, his green eyes filled with sorrow, and Anakin saw he did not have to tell Yoda the terrible news about Ben.
"Senator Lenor?" Yoda asked.
"She's going to be all right," Anakin told him. "She'll live."
But, he now wondered, in light of what had happened to Ben, would she want to?
"Thank you, Masters, for having come personally to support Master Obi-Wan," Anakin went on, his voice thick with emotion. "He will need your strength."
Yoda and Windu exchanged a quick glance. Then Yoda peered up at Anakin. "Yes, our strength he will need. Wait with you we will."
Yoda walked over to one of the chairs and, with Windu's help, settled himself in it. Then, placing his walking stick across his lap, he folded his hands before him and closed his eyes. Windu, however, remained standing, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his dark eyes watchful, but troubled as he stared down the hall at the room Anakin had indicated Obi-Wan was in.
Anakin stared at Yoda and Windu. Both were esteemed senior members of the Council and two of the most powerful Jedi in the Order. He was profoundly grateful they had come to help his master in his time of need and, as he turned and looked at the room Obi-Wan had entered, he feared his master's need would be great indeed.
To be continued...