Consciousness came slowly. Obi-Wan felt a bit edgy not immediately
remembering where he was and why he was there. When he finally did
remember, he wished he could have just stayed asleep. He couldn't judge how
long he had been asleep, or remember the moments before he had fallen
asleep. Lingering at the back of his mind were the remnants of a nightmare,
slowly fading as his fuzzy thoughts cleared.
His hands went to his neck. It hurt. Not the soreness of a scratchy throat, but an ache that felt like he had been punched. He slowly massaged his entire neck, discovering many tender spots. In the reflection in the glass across from him, it was possible to make out his neck. It looked strange. Several dark colored spots made his neck appear dirty.
"Don't rub it, padawan."
Surprised, Obi-Wan saw his Master standing in the doorway studying him. He drew his hands from his neck, but continued to study it in the glass.
"Is this a side effect of the medicine they're giving me?" he said, his words more heavily accented than usual.
"No. I talked to Healer Jii. You seem to be more relaxed and rest better in your own bed, so she agreed to let us go back to our quarters when you're ready. However, you're to stay in bed for at least another week. We'll do exercises to build up your strength, but we'll take it slow. We don't want you to have a relapse."
Qui-Gon's obvious dodge of the subject made him curious, but he didn't have enough energy to try to pull it out of him. And when his Master didn't want to talk about something, that was usually what he had to do. At times he had been accused of being downright nosy, but it was all in good fun.
"I want to go to our quarters now. I hate it here."
Qui-Gon chuckled. "I thought you might feel that way. I'll get a healer to escort us down."
Within a few moments an apprentice healer walked into the room, smiling and pushing a hover-bed in front of her. "Leaving so soon? Was the service that bad?"
He grinned. "It's the food that kills me."
They both realized the irony in that statement at the same time. The healer's smile faded and she didn't say another word as she helped Obi-Wan onto the hover-bed. She was arranging the sheets around him with special care, careful to insure the comfort of her patient, when Qui-Gon entered the room.
The compassion of the healers never ceased to amaze him. In an environment in which it was considered weak to show emotion of any kind, the hearts of healers still remained soft and sensitive to the needs of others. The girl before him was a classic example of that serving heart. She finished arranging the blankets and fluffing his pillows, then smiled. "Ready?"
"Do you have to ask?"
Qui-Gon stood aside as she pushed Obi-Wan out the door. They passed the healer's station, where he was checked out and told that a healer would be down to see him once a day. The pair of Jedi were each given a transmitter that, if activated, would send out an emergency call for healers. The elder was given instructions on how much medication to administer, and they were cleared to leave.
Elena, who was the healer escorting them, chattered as they made their way through the Temple halls. This was the part Obi-Wan hated the most. Coming out of the healer's on a holo-bed usually brought various reactions, ranging from sympathetic smiles to chuckling that he had once again spent time in the ward. This time was different. Many soft smiles of encouragement were given, but no one dared laugh.
It only took a few minutes to get to their quarters. As Qui-Gon entered the code to activate the door, a strange feeling came over him that he could only attribute to the force. He felt no danger, but there was definitely something strange going on. The door slid back into its panel, and a rush of hot, rancid air greeted them.
The healer wrinkled her nose. "What is that?"
She pushed Obi-Wan in the door, where the heat and the smell were only worse. It was almost enough to make them gag. Qui-Gon found the heating controls. The therm-meter had been changed; it read one hundred degrees fahrenheit. Someone had been in their flat.
Elena groaned. "That smells like... but how could it be that?"
Obi-Wan, with some difficulty, sat up, looking around the room with wonder. Nothing appeared to be missing or out of place, but he had an eerie feeling that only intensified as Elena started heading towards his room. His Master obviously shared it. They exchanged a questioning glance.
"Elena..."
"I feel it, Master Jinn," she said. "But I don't feel any danger. It seems to be coming from in there. Is that your room, Kenobi? What's your lock code?"
"45-53-8."
She punched in the numbers, and the door slid open. Immediately the smell intensified. Elena stiffened. "Oh force," she breathed. "Master, you may want to have a look at this."
Qui-Gon went to stand beside her. Hot air rushed out of his apprentice's room, making the temperature in the main room feel almost cool. The therm- meter read 125 degrees.
It was the most revolting thing Qui-Gon had ever witnessed. The pale colored carpet was now stained red. It appeared sticky and clumped together. The bed had red liquid dripping off its sides and making a pool beside it. The desk had been painted in it, and even the ceiling had splatters of the liquid.
The stench was now so awful that Elena took off for the 'fresher, barely making it in time before losing her breakfast. Qui-Gon had to hold his breath to keep from doing the same. He wanted to close the door, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the message written on the wall. It read:
VENGEANCE IS MINE
From the smell and the consistency of the liquid, Qui-Gon finally realized what it had to be. Disgusted, he tore his eyes away from the wall and closed the door. He made eye contact with his padawan, revulsion in his eyes.
"It's blood."
His hands went to his neck. It hurt. Not the soreness of a scratchy throat, but an ache that felt like he had been punched. He slowly massaged his entire neck, discovering many tender spots. In the reflection in the glass across from him, it was possible to make out his neck. It looked strange. Several dark colored spots made his neck appear dirty.
"Don't rub it, padawan."
Surprised, Obi-Wan saw his Master standing in the doorway studying him. He drew his hands from his neck, but continued to study it in the glass.
"Is this a side effect of the medicine they're giving me?" he said, his words more heavily accented than usual.
"No. I talked to Healer Jii. You seem to be more relaxed and rest better in your own bed, so she agreed to let us go back to our quarters when you're ready. However, you're to stay in bed for at least another week. We'll do exercises to build up your strength, but we'll take it slow. We don't want you to have a relapse."
Qui-Gon's obvious dodge of the subject made him curious, but he didn't have enough energy to try to pull it out of him. And when his Master didn't want to talk about something, that was usually what he had to do. At times he had been accused of being downright nosy, but it was all in good fun.
"I want to go to our quarters now. I hate it here."
Qui-Gon chuckled. "I thought you might feel that way. I'll get a healer to escort us down."
Within a few moments an apprentice healer walked into the room, smiling and pushing a hover-bed in front of her. "Leaving so soon? Was the service that bad?"
He grinned. "It's the food that kills me."
They both realized the irony in that statement at the same time. The healer's smile faded and she didn't say another word as she helped Obi-Wan onto the hover-bed. She was arranging the sheets around him with special care, careful to insure the comfort of her patient, when Qui-Gon entered the room.
The compassion of the healers never ceased to amaze him. In an environment in which it was considered weak to show emotion of any kind, the hearts of healers still remained soft and sensitive to the needs of others. The girl before him was a classic example of that serving heart. She finished arranging the blankets and fluffing his pillows, then smiled. "Ready?"
"Do you have to ask?"
Qui-Gon stood aside as she pushed Obi-Wan out the door. They passed the healer's station, where he was checked out and told that a healer would be down to see him once a day. The pair of Jedi were each given a transmitter that, if activated, would send out an emergency call for healers. The elder was given instructions on how much medication to administer, and they were cleared to leave.
Elena, who was the healer escorting them, chattered as they made their way through the Temple halls. This was the part Obi-Wan hated the most. Coming out of the healer's on a holo-bed usually brought various reactions, ranging from sympathetic smiles to chuckling that he had once again spent time in the ward. This time was different. Many soft smiles of encouragement were given, but no one dared laugh.
It only took a few minutes to get to their quarters. As Qui-Gon entered the code to activate the door, a strange feeling came over him that he could only attribute to the force. He felt no danger, but there was definitely something strange going on. The door slid back into its panel, and a rush of hot, rancid air greeted them.
The healer wrinkled her nose. "What is that?"
She pushed Obi-Wan in the door, where the heat and the smell were only worse. It was almost enough to make them gag. Qui-Gon found the heating controls. The therm-meter had been changed; it read one hundred degrees fahrenheit. Someone had been in their flat.
Elena groaned. "That smells like... but how could it be that?"
Obi-Wan, with some difficulty, sat up, looking around the room with wonder. Nothing appeared to be missing or out of place, but he had an eerie feeling that only intensified as Elena started heading towards his room. His Master obviously shared it. They exchanged a questioning glance.
"Elena..."
"I feel it, Master Jinn," she said. "But I don't feel any danger. It seems to be coming from in there. Is that your room, Kenobi? What's your lock code?"
"45-53-8."
She punched in the numbers, and the door slid open. Immediately the smell intensified. Elena stiffened. "Oh force," she breathed. "Master, you may want to have a look at this."
Qui-Gon went to stand beside her. Hot air rushed out of his apprentice's room, making the temperature in the main room feel almost cool. The therm- meter read 125 degrees.
It was the most revolting thing Qui-Gon had ever witnessed. The pale colored carpet was now stained red. It appeared sticky and clumped together. The bed had red liquid dripping off its sides and making a pool beside it. The desk had been painted in it, and even the ceiling had splatters of the liquid.
The stench was now so awful that Elena took off for the 'fresher, barely making it in time before losing her breakfast. Qui-Gon had to hold his breath to keep from doing the same. He wanted to close the door, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the message written on the wall. It read:
VENGEANCE IS MINE
From the smell and the consistency of the liquid, Qui-Gon finally realized what it had to be. Disgusted, he tore his eyes away from the wall and closed the door. He made eye contact with his padawan, revulsion in his eyes.
"It's blood."