The Book of Scars
In the soft yellow illumination, Obi-Wan moved silently through the dull gray room. Every footfall precisely placed in an ancient dance of light. Pale blue cascaded over the smooth walls and sliced through the still air. Muscles flexed and relaxed shifting under workout dampened flesh as the Jedi moved through an intimately choreographed kata that was timed to the steady beat of his heart. Bringing the weapon about calmly, he gave a long slow exhale.
The pale blaze glided over taught muscles as he drew back a step and moved into a well-cut turn. The deadly blade's point grazed the smooth gray stone, sweeping back just missing a carefully shined boot toe. Another drawn in breath as Obi-Wan stepped through a quick series of meditative movements exhaling in rhythm with each slice of the blade. Carefully honed reflexes brought the weapon about in a graceful arc as he stepped into the next exercise.
Through discipline of mind and body he could feel the Force flowing gently around him in familiar currents. Taking in a deep breath he accessed the ancient power source feeling it flowing through him like the oxygen he so easily breathed. Moving quickly, yet silently he traced the steps that had been taught him long ago. Steps that would forever be burned into his memories for as long as he lived.
The softest sound of his boots shifting against the stone in the hush before he took in another controlled breath. Moving faster than the eye could register, the saber flashed through the air in a complex series of maneuvers and without pause repeated the series in reverse ending in the center of the room again.
Pale blue splashed over a deep scar cut into his right upper arm. It was stark against the smooth skin, a perpetual reminder of the life he had lived before. If only the reminders had ended there, instead a map of the hard life painted every muscle of his back. Every step and twist ended with a faint ache emanating from his spine, a ghost that he could live without. Yet, the gouged line in the muscles of his lower back crossing ugly over vertebrae always remained.
Every breath echoed in the chamber as Obi-Wan brought the saber about again sweeping out gracefully at arm's length before being swiftly withdrawn. The blade lightly grazed his ankle before completing the motion through gently strained muscles. The bright flash of the blue blade drawn close singed the skin of his left shoulder, then repeated at his right. Its glow brushed against the torn and roughly healed flesh just above his heart.
With a long exhale, he stilled and dropped the powered up weapon to his side, breathing heavily. Finding his center once again, he deactivated the saber.
The glow of the dimly lit room became dominant once more casting gentle flecks of gold across the thin layer of perspiration that clung to his bare chest. Drawing his face up to the warm lighting system, he basked in the shower of light. Turning, the Jedi peered into a dark corner of the room. "You might as well come out, I know you are there." A hint of patient mirth echoed in his voice but he did not wait for a response from his unseen audience. Instead, Obi-Wan paced across the room to a small compartment where a soft towel and the rest of his belongings waited.
From the shadows a very timid Bali Tiro appeared, he watched the older Jedi towel off before creeping closer. Freezing only momentarily when Obi-Wan turned to eye the eight-year-old. After a few more slow steps the padawan reached the nearby bench and crawled up on it. He gave an innocent grin.
"Just keep smiling," Obi-Wan whispered barely masking the joy sight of the disobedient padawan brought as he straightened his under tunic and tucked it into the waistband of his creamy trousers. Gingerly pulling the slightly darker outer tunic on over sore muscles, he paused to study the quiet boy. "Were you not asleep when I left?"
"Aren't you supposed to be asleep too?"
Pale blue gaze flashed on the apprentice immediately drawing a cowed expression from the boy. Obi-Wan unfolded the rust colored cloak and wrapped it protectively around himself as the warmth of exertion quickly abandoned him for the phantom chill. "Do not answer my questions with more questions, Padawan."
Bali made a face. "I just wanted to know where you go every night after I go to sleep."
"You should have asked me," Obi-Wan answered scooting the padawan over and sitting down on the bench next to him.
"Oh."
"Never thought of that did you?"
The boy thought for a moment then shook his head. "I can ask you questions?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, of course, Padawan. Don't ever be afraid to ask." He looked down at the little boy sitting crookedly on the bench next to him. Bali was wearing gray sleep clothes and his sloppily tucked in boots kicked nervously just above the floor. Dark brown spikes were mashed to his head and the little padawan braid was twisted up in his collar. "You realize this level is restricted to masters only. How did you get up here without getting caught?"
Bali shrugged. "I just walked here."
That did not say much for Jedi awareness if a sleepy little padawan could wander anywhere in the Temple without escort.
Sighing softly, the Jedi reached down and grabbed one of the boy's swinging feet. "If you are going to be out about the Temple you need to look presentable even if it is long past your bedtime." He adjusted the gray leggings into the little boots and then reached up loosening the trapped braid and brushed his fingers through the matted spikes.
Bali giggled. "Master!" He fell up against Obi-Wan's cloaked arm and was quiet for a time. Then bright green eyes glanced up into the dim lit room. "Master?"
"Yes, Padawan?"
"I remember that your arm was really sore when we first met."
Surprised by the boy's remark, Obi-Wan had to struggle to remain calm. He didn't want to noticeably tense at the questioning this early in the master/padawan relationship. "Yes, it was."
Sitting up, the boy asked worriedly, "It's better now, right?"
Obi-Wan nodded.
"But it hasn't healed."
Studying the concerned green eyes, the elder Jedi answered, "Of course it has healed. Several months have passed." Yet Bali's worried expression did not ease and Obi-Wan did not know how to deal with it. Bali may have been trained as a Jedi from infancy but he had relatively little experience with the universe around him. When he had been the boy's age, wounds were never too serious and were always quickly tended to. Smiling gently, he understood the naivety. "Are you talking about the scar?"
An uncertain nod was the only answer.
"The skin is healed, it just cannot be exactly like it was before." The Jedi frowned knowing he wasn't really clearing up the question. "It is howwounds naturally heal without bacta. It is not always available."
"It would get fixed if you went to the healing center." The small apprentice adamantly said wiggling on the bench. "Bant would fix it. I like Bant."
Obi-Wan just watched the curious little padawan knowing he had a lot to learn. A part of him did not want to fracture the innocence that glowed in those bright green eyes. "In missions we don't always have the option of coming back to the Temple as soon as we are injured."
The apprentice wrinkled his brow in thought. Being a master was still so new to the Jedi that he was often doubtful of how to deal with his very young apprentice. He wanted to be open and answer all the curious questions to foster an easy relationship, but when asked those questions were often more difficult to answer than expected.
"Master?"
"Yes, Padawan?"
Bali gave another thoughtful look then reached out and poked a small finger into the Jedi's chest just above his heart. "How did you get that scar?"
Obi-Wan stared at his chest where the boy had indicated. "I was shot with a stun weapon." Designed for larger, heartier creatures called Doyga with thick, scaled skin and shielded nervous systems not for a creature as fragile as a human being.
Again worry glazed the padawan's small features.
"It was a long time ago," he reassured boy. "Almost four years now."
"Wow," Bali brightened. "I was very young then." The eight-year-old paused. "Why did someone do that?"
"A senator had been held hostage by a group of rebels. They were going to use her to bargain for a treaty negotiated in their favor."
"Isn't that cheating?"
"Yes, but that is how some think." He frowned recognizing long buried memories that desperately tried to push to the surface. Exhaling slowly, the Jedi shoved the nightmares back into the small place where they could not harm him. "They did not want us escaping. They thought if they could catch me, they could barter with my life so they shot me with a stunning device."
"But you got away."
"Yes. Under no circumstances would they be allowed to use me as a pawn in their war." He knew Bali didn't understand what that meant, he was far too young to put that kind of weight on his shoulders. In time, Bali would understand that to be Jedi also meant to be willing to sacrifice yourself for the greater good. "Trying to protect the Senator I was distracted and was injured. It is an excellent lesson to always keep your focus on the here and now."
"Yes, Master," Bali obediently replied. Breaking out into a small grin, the boy giggled. "Is that when you punched Bant?"
Obi-Wan grimaced at the reminder.
"She told me."
"I was afraid of that."
"Master?"
"You know, Padawan," Obi-Wan smiled as he reached out and flicked the flame tipped braid behind Bali's right ear, "you can begin some questions without addressing me first. After all, I am the only other person in the room."
Bali opened his mouth to ask but paused. He started to ask again, but stopped once more, then finally he nearly whispered, "How did you get the scar on your back?"
There had never been any intention of keeping the map of the difficult years after his apprenticeship hidden from the boy, but the young master had hoped to keep these painful questions at bay for much longer. "Which one?" he asked calmly his pale gaze shifting away. "I don't know if you have noticed, but I have quite a few."
Thinking about it for a moment, Bali then twisted around and tried to point to the spot on his own small spine. He looked to see his master's reaction.
For Obi-Wan's part, he remained perfectly calm not showing the real terror that question had inspired. "I fell."
"I fall a lot too," Bali piped up. "But I just get lots of scratches and bruises. Sometimes my feet don't go where they are supposed to go when I'm working on my katas and I fall."
Obi-Wan decided to use the pause in questioning to do something else, or he would soon have the little boy terrified to leave the Temple. Standing up, he pulled the warmth of his cloak close and folded his arms across his chest. "I learned that one cannot spend enough time practicing their katas, but sometimes, things happen that we cannot control and no amount of training will change that. We learn to accept it and deal with it."
"Yes, Master," the Bali obediently replied and stood up rubbing his eyes tiredly.
Taking the signal, Obi-Wan pressed a warm hand to the padawan's back and guided the boy toward the door. "I think we both need a few hours of sleep. We have a long day ahead of us."
"Yes, Master."
