Twenty Five: Reconciling with Consciousness

The sultry tint of dusk has fallen to Coruscant in a shroud of amethyst and rose. It will be night soon. The sun is beckoned to rest--

And it seems my Padawan is beckoned to rise, his eyelids pulsing weakly.

His sleep was an encounter with oblivion, the healer told me, without memorable dreams or distraction. Down in the dregs of exhaustion, he was completely absorbed, and spent the last six hours in replenishing darkness.

His body has begun to heal from its deprivations.

But his mind--and mine--are far from that stage of convalescence.

I've been beside him, stopped on a path in my own twilight, yearning for the weak echoes of light to reach me again, for the damage to be mended.

I was asking for a miracle. Sitting in the little hospital chair, I was hunched over, elbows to knees, praying with a whirling mind that we could just forget all that's happened.

Finally, Obi-Wan was asleep, in true respite.

And I wanted to be with him, afloat on still, soothing waters. I wanted to exist on such a plane where I wouldn't have to deal with my mistakes, I wouldn't be forced to face the hurt I've caused, despite its unintentional nature.

But I've yet to sleep. Every thought is rife with guilt. Each breath is drawn with remembrance of my selfish behavior.

I closed him in. I shackled him to his pain with rusting, heavy chains, chains of a father's love for his only child, a blinding love that eventually plugged the ears as well, to the sound of dragging chains against the prison floor.

And now he's slowly reconciling with consciousness, after his abrupt detachment, and I see the confused lines mapped out on his face.

I almost wish he would slip away once more, if even for another moment or two, to give me the time to prepare…

His eyes open to slits. I can catch searching pupils beneath the fine flutter of lashes. He frowns.

Smiling gently, I sit forward and lay my hand against his temple. "It's alright, Padawan."

With a jittering series of blinks, Obi-Wan sits up and immediately his expression is overcome with dread, embarrassment. "Master? I---" He glances around. "I'm sorry…I must've.."

I clasp his hand. "There's no apologies to be said--not on your part, anyway." I appraise his face, remaining a bit pale in the sunset's ambiance, the dark, crescent moon appearing early beneath his eyes.

You've done nothing wrong. It was all me. Everything was my foolishness.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He moistens his lips. "I was with Master Windu…"

I feel heat in my face.

"And then I left with you and I was trying to tell you…then you said you'd explain." He shakes his head, clears his throat and looks at me. "I'm sorry, Master. I should have told you sooner. It never should've happened"

"You're correct about that." I smooth the bristles of his hair flattened from the pillow. My stomach is cold and restless. "It never should have happened, my Padawan."

His eyes drift to the window, where a slit of the outside world peeks out from the parted drapes. "Gods, it's almost nighttime." He observes in astonishment.

"I know." I murmur, without thinking. "I'll see if we can get you out of here." Walking towards the door, conviction seeps into my heart. And tonight WILL be different.

I cross into the hallway and am a little surprised to find Master Meelon seated on a bench. At once she's aware of my presence and smiles.

"Is he awake?"

I nod. "He's groggy. I'm hoping…" My eyes drop involuntarily. "I'm hoping I can take him home now."

She stands, her blue eyes somehow enhanced now that the cosmetic has faded around them. "In what way do you mean?"

I smile wearily. "Whatever way that'll make him happy."

"Then you know what you have to do." Meelon says, quietly. "A cage will still look the same to its occupant, even if that occupant is well-rested."

"I know. A-And thank you, for helping me and my apprentice."

"Ah, you hand me too much credit." She grins. "Only you can help your apprentice." She leans in. "And I think he's waiting as we speak."

I touch her shoulder. "Force bless you."

Then, I return to the small room, on legs that have numbed--but with a mind that is, at last, waking.