"Master!" Anakin screamed, darting after him with wide, frightened eyes.

Obi-Wan couldn't hear, due to the loud flurry of the rampage and his own desperate cries…

Or, perhaps, because he didn't want to.

He mowed through the lush maze of vines, sharp, hooked thorns scraping against his arms. Stray water droplets splattered on his skin, slightly deluding the blood still running from wounds.

"MASTER! MASTER I KNOW YOU'RE HERE!" Obi-Wan slipped on a loosened patch of rocks, going down hard on his elbows, catching his cheek on a craggy stone.

Anakin pushed through the ivy tangles. "Master!" He went to restrain him while he was down, but Obi-Wan shoved the offending arms away with a heavy jolt of Force and a snarl.

The young Jedi fell backward. "Sith!" He swore, leaping smoothly to his feet and rushing in pursuit again.

Obi-Wan uncovered every inch he came upon, looking for a glimpse of silvered chestnut hair or rich blue eyes, peeking out.

Yet all he found was bare, shadowed space. Cold.

He paused, back hunched, a piece of shrub gripped in his hand, sweat coursing down his face. "Master?" He called, voice shaking and tiny, unsure. Obi-Wan looked around the mangled room.

Where…is he?

His eyes, rimmed with red, beat with hopeless, lost emotion. "Master?"

Anakin stopped less than three feet behind him. He watched the reckless breaths move the lacerated, bruised back. He dared not make rash movement.

Which wasn't a problem. At that moment, he wasn't certain he could have uttered a word.

"I-It's true, isn't it?" Obi-Wan whispered, tears pooling and quivering. "Y-You want to hide from me. I-It's what you've always wanted. I shouldn't have tried t-to…to stop you. I should've known.

"Why didn't I know?"

Anakin swallowed. "Master, do you really think Qui-Gon would do this? Hide from you?"

Obi-Wan turned. Gone was every trace of the graceful man who could display bouts of unwavering stoicism, then limitless enthusiasm in the brief pulse of a second. A countenance chiseled with soft nobility. The face of the only father Anakin hoped to know.

What stared back at the boy was a pale, dejected form with unbridled misery swimming in his gaze. A Padawan--without his Master.

And Anakin saw that there was suddenly a striking semblance between them. For he had endured so long without the teacher he knew. It could not rival the agony Obi-Wan was experiencing, but it was painful just the same.

A thought stabbed through his mind like a ragged razor. I can't lose him. Anakin was startled by the revelation, hands balling tightly at his sides. Why would I lose him?

Then a voice entered his head, weak, but powerful in its message, velvet…warning.

//The Universe can't afford to lose him. Not yet. Not like this, Ani.//

He was overcome with emotion as he understood the origin of the whispered voice, feeling the depth of fear in its trembling tone, the serene wisdom he knew for such a short time in midnight blue eyes.

//Then you have to talk to him.// Anakin sent back, uncertain if his desperate words could even be heard. //He's going crazy looking for YOU.//

There was a chasm of despair and longing in the mystic reply. //I can't get through to him. There's something--thick--blocking him. It's erecting shields, even now, against outside forces, that would try to break them down. They must be broken. And I don't possess that kind of strength, young one.//

Anakin inhaled, watching his Master's tear-stained face contracting with pain.

It was the most awful muse, far more terrible than anything he had faced in his life.

But he had to ask. Before he could move another step, he had to know. //Master Qui-Gon, is he…is he…dying?//

The response was heavy with heartsick dread. //Yes.//

Anakin was dumbfounded, devastated, terrified. But he couldn't allow it to show on his face. In his separate, imagined world, Obi-Wan was frightened enough. As steadily as possible, he questioned the Master specter. //Why? What's wrong with him?!// His heart pounded beyond control.

//I..I don't know. I only know what I can feel of him. And that's not very much…Have you felt it, Anakin?//

He hesitated, swallowing the sour rise of bile in his throat. //Just now…Before you came…I think I sensed it.// And that was the worst, damning thing of all. Before, it had been a nightmare, something that frightened him to his core. But still--there was nothing to confirm the suspicions creeping into his mind. Only his own feelings. He wasn't obligated to trust those.

But now…the Force was telling him, was screaming the truth. He had to believe that.

//Whatever is shielding him from us is incredibly strong. Almost like it won't even recognize an attacker before it demolishes the threat. But there are things more powerful, that surpass this…Life and death, Anakin. We can sense them. We can feel them. That…thing can't stop the radiation of death. We've seen the dying, young Padawan. And as much as I abhor saying it--I see it in my Obi-Wan.//

Anakin couldn't halt the blistering sting of a tear in his eye. //You can't tell me what's the matter with him?//

A grinding, blinding pain. //No. Only that you haven't much time. The Force is changing, flexing…preparing for him. DON'T let him go, Ani.//

And then the apprentice was forced to smother the voice, to stifle the comfort, the only sanity in this craziness.

He faced his Master.

He saw now what he had refused to see all along.

A form on the verge of oblivion.

Obi-Wan blinked, cool moisture following the split-second movement. "You're afraid of me."

Anakin shook his head. "I'm not afraid of you, Master. I'm afraid for you. You're very sick. And if you don't come with me, if you don't let me take care of you…you're going to die. Do you hear me?" He stalked forward, grasping the muscled upper arms, shaking him. "You'll DIE."

Obi-Wan didn't try to escape the hold. "What would that matter?" He whispered. "You've all been trying to kill me. Why not just get it over with?" His eyes stared into his apprentice's, unblinking, completely open and exposed. "You're afraid because now I know. I'm not playing your stupid, twisted game anymore, Anakin. "

Anakin flinched, his mouth unable to keep still, quivering with frantic rage. "Master, I'd never try to --"

"But you HAVE!" Obi-Wan barked. "By hiding Qui-Gon from me! You had to know how that would affect me! It kills me every day!"

The boy felt his stomach lurch. It was strange to hear that name fall from his Master's lips again, the syllables changed by the unique, accented pronunciation, soft with affection.

But at the same time, it was a torture.

When Obi-Wan would speak of his slain mentor, there would be a hint of mourning and bitter, loving reminiscence. Now, he referred to the man as if he were a living, breathing being, just around the corner, without the charred hole in his middle and dead eyes.

He risked reaching out, to brush a stray, raggedly shorn piece of ginger hair from Obi-Wan's forehead. "I know you miss him, Master. I do, too. We can talk about him. Together. Would you like that?"

Obi-Wan stared at him as though he were making negotiations with a serial killer, as if he were holding a knife in his hands and Anakin was asking, oh so gently and reasonably, to borrow it.

"Why would I want to talk about him, when I could be talking to him?! To his face?!"

"You can't talk to him, Master. Not like that. And you'll never be able to in any way if you keep on like this." Anakin grasped the sides of his head. "Something's inside you, isn't it? Blocking you off?"

Obi-Wan looked intensely into his eyes for a moment. "Yes." He whispered.

Anakin held him steady, hands bordering his Master's temples. "What? Tell me what it is. We can make it better." He swore.

Obi-Wan exhaled heavily from his nose, blinking. "You're in my head. You've been trying to mess with my thoughts. But I pushed you away--and you're afraid of me now. Because I've become stronger…"

And he ripped away from his apprentice with a strangled little scream, grasping his head.

"Master!" Anakin braced Obi-Wan's shoulders.

No don't listen I can't listen

Lying he's lying you know he's just lying I know he's only lying.

Lying lying lying lying Master lying lying oh hurts lying…

Obi-Wan wheeled around and shoved Anakin, falling with him to the floor with a savage cry.

Anakin struggled, attempting to restrain Obi-Wan without harming him.

His eyes were clouding with gray and black spots. Obi-Wan fought without seeing, gasping, cursing loudly when tears further defiled his vision. He was scraping at whatever solidity his hands touched.

Anakin grit his teeth when he felt his blood drawn. "Master, stop!" He managed to sit up and in a burst of frightened urgency pinned Obi-Wan against his chest, tightening his arms when the Knight bucked.

He pressed his cheek to Obi-Wan's. "I'm not going to hurt you." His voice was kind, to be a comfort when he otherwise needed to be firm. "Gods, I'd never hurt you." His throat was suddenly thick; he swallowed with difficulty before continuing. "I love you, Master."

Obi-Wan shook his head and struggled against the restricting hands.

Anakin wouldn't bend. "I love you and I want you to be alright. Okay?"

Obi-Wan clawed at his own legs in frustration, arms stiffly held. Lies you know it you know it YOU KNOW IT.

"And Master Qui-Gon loved you too. Even if the entire Universe was trying to keep you from him, do you think he'd allow it? Would the man you knew hide from you?"

Obi-Wan fought wildly again, but his energy was quickly spent. A spray of ivy was hanging in front of him, speckled with water droplets. The edges of the scene were softened, running together, green and blue.

He closed his eyes, his head dropping nearly involuntarily to Anakin's shoulder.

A beat of silence, then, "You're sick, Master. He wouldn't leave you to suffer it without giving whatever he could give to help you."

Obi-Wan sniffled. "He-He'd bring me…"

Anakin eased his arms, rocking very slowly, wiping sweat from Obi-Wan's face. "What would he bring you?"

"One of those lilies. The ones--The ones that grow here."

Anakin lifted his eyes to gaze at the blooms, although he was already familiar with the snow-colored petals and delicate stems. "Yeah?"

"When I was sick o-or in the healing ward, he'd bring one to put n-n-next to my bed. He said it was so I'd know he was thinking of me. "

The boy smiled. He placed a hand against Obi-Wan's chest and a slower rhythm pulsated beneath his worried touch.

Obi-Wan took a sharp breath in. "Sometimes…I'd be there s-so long the flower would start to wilt. And just when I'd start to see the first little tinges of brown, he'd bring me another to replace it."

"He cared a lot about you."

A warmth had begun to soak into the older Jedi's eyes, moist and tired. For a moment, he could revel in his Padawan's words, in a memory freshened by the crisp lilies around them.

Then a cold seeped through, sending gooseflesh rising on his barely clad body and dread to his lulled heart.

He stared, unseeing, at the perfection encompassing him. Leaves swaying to a breeze, the fountains trickling in a soothing unison. The aged, white stone and its cracking surface. The thin streaks of gold binding it when it should have ruptured.

A sob broke from Obi-Wan. He clamped a hand over his mouth, but the sorrow intensified, his muscles tightened and shaking. To stop the cries, he bit down on a finger, sealing his eyes.

But still, he spoke. "Why's he hiding? What did I DO? I was a good Padawan. Wasn't I? Wasn't I good? Good Padawan that did what he was told and even when I didn't think he was right I went along with what he wanted because why would I know better than him why would my ideas ever be better than his I'd maybe think I was right but then he'd show me yeah he'd show me that I was wrong that I should've listened. If he was here right now I'd listen to him I'd listen to whatever he wanted to say whatever he wanted to tell me. And I'd be a good Padawan again yes I would yes yes yes I would."

It had spilled out in a rasping, fast but articulate whisper. Anakin shuddered inside. This wasn't, couldn't, be his Master talking. "He was really proud of you, Obi-Wan. Really proud. He wouldn't want anything to happen to you--so you need to let me help you."

Help me help me NOW someone wants to help me. After ALL THIS now he wants to help me. He grabbed his head. "I've been waiting so long." Obi-Wan whispered. "Waiting for someone to tell me it was all a joke."

Anakin swallowed. Please don't say that. Please don't. "Master, we need to go."

The door cracked open. Bant walked in, fully aware of what had occurred. The syringe was in the pocket of her smock, and one pink hand drifted there.

Anakin craned his neck to look at her. "WAIT." He mouthed.

She saw the raw fear and pain in his gaze, nodded.

Obi-Wan moaned. A horrible ache was throbbing in his temples. "H-Hurts. I c-can't see him…I can't see anything."

Anakin pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. "We can make it better."

"Tired. Miss 'im. I miss h-him. I--" Pain erupted through him and he grunted, hands balling. "Oh..I…"

Anakin caught him before he could fall forward. "MASTER!"

Bant rushed to them, calling for the trio of healers waiting at the door, tears already standing in her pale eyes.

The apprentice gently lowered Obi-Wan to the floor, cradling his head in his lap. "Master, Master wake up!"

But Obi-Wan didn't reply.

The healing team fled through the corridors, Bant at the lead, muttering a string of possible explanations (littered with a few uncharacteristically strong curses).

A breathing mask was strapped to Obi-Wan's mouth, his arms tethered loosely to the stretcher.

Anakin jogged beside them, his eyes never leaving his Master's face.

No Master. You have to be alright. You have to make it . You have to. Don't leave me DON'T LEAVE ME.

Another healer, a middle-aged human with a neat, graying beard and black eyes, turned to the apprentice. "Are you able to contact him mentally?"

Anakin shook his head, barely able to comprehend, his lips numb. "N-No."

The man gave a curt nod, then shouted the information to the others.

Bant glanced at Anakin for a fleeting moment.

"H-He was grabbing at his head. Something was wrong with his head." He called to her, eyes darting between the Mon Calamarian and the unconscious Knight.

After what was an endless, torturous journey, the stretcher was rolled into the hospital ward and began a quick descent down a grayish hallway.

"Do the checks!" Bant yelled to her counterparts, then stopped in front of Anakin. "You know you can't come with him in there, Ani." She said softly. Sweat shone on her forehead.

Anakin's eyes were fastened to the corridor beyond them. "I know." He murmured.

Bant took his hands. "I'll do everything I possibly can. You know that too, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Okay." She gave the cold fingers a squeeze, then jogged after the healing crew.

Anakin stood where he was, arms dead at his sides.

No. Gods no.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He was lying against cold slate, his back flat on the rigid surface. The sky above was a dismal mixture of black and clouded gray. A drop of icy rain kissed his cheek, sliding down to dampen the fine whiskers of his beard.

For a moment, he was motionless on the unyielding pallet, transfixed by the rolling darkness. Then, he rose to his feet, his muscles and joints aching dully as he began to walk.

A blustery wind buffeted his vulnerable form, whipping shoulder-length hair in his face and biting his flesh. Tears became tiny shards that cut…cut him.

He walked faster, his bare feet slapping against the chilled, hard stone.

The sharp breeze whistled a low, haunting aria. If he allowed his mind to focus on the tune, he could almost detect a voice, murmuring lyrics.

But he didn't want to hear the words.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. He knew he shouldn't close his eyes, should keep alert…always on alert.

Yet, the thick pall before him was unrelenting.

So it wouldn't hurt to take a rest. He could always open them again. Always…

Bant burst through the double doors into the emergency room. Blinding lights were trained on Obi-Wan's slack form, enhancing the translucence of his skin.

She slipped on gloves, flexing her coral fingers as she moved briskly to the table. "Vitals?"

The dark-headed healer pursed his thin lips. "Dropping. He's not reacting to stigma."

"Sith." She swore. She touched Obi-Wan's forehead, sensing more than temperature, feeling more than the shape of his tender skull. "Get Master Prila. NOW."

Anakin sat on the molded plastic chair, leaning forward with his hands folded, head bowed.

He's dying. Master Qui-Gon said…he's dying. He inhaled, the congested fear rattling in his throat. He can't. He can't die.

And then the grinding torture began, as images flashed through his mind. Of his Master protecting him, shielding him with solid, strong arms. Holding him and offering a smile. Correcting a minute error in his fighting stance, explaining that such small mistakes could become fatal. Tugging at the sandy Padawan braid. Laughing at bad, corny jokes.

Standing in the kitchen, early morning spilling through an open window, grinning at his sleepy apprentice who shuffled to the sofa with a grunt.

What would he do, what in hell would he do, if he had to start the day without that teasing smile?