Chapter 1
The Lost is Found
It was too light and too loud and it smelled really bad. The sensory barrage bordered on overload and it was all he could do to keep on his feet and not fall over or throw up. Doing either was not a good idea in this neighborhood.
Out here in the slums if he showed any weakness, any vulnerability, the gangs, independent muggers, and pick-pockets would descend on him and strip him bare. They were probably out there already, circling like carrion eaters, waiting. He couldn't see them, but they were there.
He wouldn't give them the chance to rob him though. He wouldn't let his weakness show. And if they somehow managed to see past his façade, he'd make them pay for daring to try and take his credits and valuables. Yes, he'd make them pay and enjoy every second of it.
A furry, grimy Bothan nearly knocked him off his feet as it brushed past him and it was all he could do to keep upright. At that moment, the ground decided to tilt crazily under his feet, making his task all the more difficult. And then his vision got kind of fuzzy, blurry around the edges. His stomach churned most unhappily. Things began to take on a gray tinge. He was dangerously close to vomiting, passing out, or both.
A hand grasped his elbow suddenly and steadied him. He blinked, startled, and whirled on the person that dared touch him. This was, of course, a mistake. The sudden movement made his head throb worse, his vision swim, and bile burn its way up his throat. He swallowed hard and willed the nausea away and blinked rapidly, trying to clear his blurred sight.
"You should not be out when you are so ill. Where is your home?" A man asked, concerned.
"Why d'you care?" He managed between swallows.
"I sensed your distress and felt compelled to help." The man shrugged, or at least it looked like he did. Things swam in and out of focus and it was impossible to keep things straight.
"Whatever," he gulped and tried to pull away.
The man did not let him go. "Please, where is your home? I will escort you there."
"Y' can't." He muttered thickly. He was starting to lose his battle with his stomach.
"Are you running away?" The man asked gently.
"'m gunna…b-be sick." He gasped, swaying.
The man paused for a long fraction of a second. "This way then," the man ordered sharply and managed to haul him to a nearby alley where he wouldn't make quite so much of a mess.
He barely made it off the street when his stomach finally succeeded in rebelling. He retched and heaved until nothing more would come up and then he retched and heaved some more. When he finally stopped, his knees shook so badly that he nearly collapsed and he broke out into a cold sweat. He couldn't decide if he felt better or worse now that his insides were empty.
"Feel better?" The man asked softly.
"N-no." He panted.
"Will you tell me where you live?" The man asked again.
"No." He replied, managing a firmer tone this time.
"Are you running away from home?" The man repeated.
"Maybe," he cautiously admitted, struggling to think past his aching head.
"Well then, I shall take you to child services and have them look after you." The man decided.
He went stiff and glared dangerously at the man. "I am not a child!" He rasped out slowly and deliberately.
"How old are you?"
"I'm fifteen!"
"Eighteen is the local, and galactic, age of responsibility; therefore you are still a child." The man calmly pointed out.
"Don't care, 'm not goin'." He snarled defiantly.
"Please calm down–"
"Don' you tell me t' calm down!" He cried, his voice ragged and bordering on hysterical.
"Please–"
"Lemme go!" He almost wailed and he began to struggle against the man's grip.
His efforts to break free were less than successful. In fact, it just made things worse. In the scuffle, if it could even be called that, he hit his left side against something. Blinding, fiery agony spiked through him and drove the air from his lungs. And then the pain tripped a little circuit-breaker in his brain, and his sight simply turned off. Everything was black and silent and painless…
Obi-Wan thanked his Jedi reflexes as he managed to catch the young man as he suddenly toppled forward in a faint. Despite his thin, small frame, he was surprisingly heavy. But Obi-Wan was able to keep his feet and keep the ill youth from crashing into the hard ground. With a sigh, he hefted the boy up and dragged him to the opposite wall of the alley and set him down gently to better examine him.
While his clothing was shabby, it wasn't nearly in bad enough shape to mark him as a resident of this area. His boots looked to be of good quality, hinting of at least a middle-class origin. And his shirt, pants, and hooded cape seemed to confirm that assumption, though they were very tattered and dirty, like he'd run through a few forests. Hidden from sight underneath his cape was a bag of some sort that probably held his most treasured possessions.
"Yes, you certainly appear to be running away. But from what?" Obi-Wan mused, not expecting an answer from the unconscious teen.
A hand to the boy's forehead confirmed that he was sick with a very high fever. If it got any higher, the boy would slip into delirium. He was also very pale and thin, suggesting that he hadn't eaten well lately. And then Obi-Wan sensed something odd. He lifted the boy's shirt and found a clumsy makeshift bandage tied around his middle, the left side of it was soaked through with blood. A quick peek under the bandage told Obi-Wan two things: it was badly infected, and there was a good chance that it had been self-inflicted.
"Well young man, you have just earned yourself a trip to the hospital." He sighed sadly.
Careful not to injure the boy further, he scooped him up as best he could and headed for the nearest medical clinic. As he made his way through the slums and towards a nicer section of the city, he wondered.
Why had the Force pulled his attention on this boy? What was so special about him that a Jedi Knight was needed to intervene? What was he running from? Had he really stabbed himself? Why would anyone do such a thing? Who was he? Where did he come from?
Obi-Wan continued to wonder about the boy until he came to the hospital entrance where he pulled himself fully into the present and banished all his questions from his mind. He brought the boy inside and handed him off to the healers. After doing his best to answer the healers' questions, he took his leave and returned to the Corellian Jedi Temple.