Author: EsotericCrimson
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If they were mine, would I be sitting here, writing fanfiction about them? Wait… you're right – I probably would be.
Summary: When Obi-Wan is wounded on a diplomatic assignment gone awry, Anakin is left to reflect upon his relationship with his former Master, and realizes that, when death could come for them at any moment, there are some things that cannot be left unsaid. Slash.
A/N: This chapter is a little different from its predecessors; it takes place entirely in the 'present' – no flashbacks. For one thing, I wanted to work with what was happening in the 'now' for a little while, and for another, I wanted to focus on what exactly was happening in that story line, as very little definite information has been given in regards to Obi-Wan's condition. So that is that.
As always, thank you to the reviewers:
Anakin's Girl 4eva – Thanks; and as for your question… I don't know if I should answer. Hmm… as evil as it might be of me not to, I think you'll have to wait just a little longer. Obi-Wan is arguably my favorite character in all of Star Wars… but I have killed my favorite characters off before… so, for the moment, I'll leave you to speculate to the true fate of Master Kenobi ;)
Seylin – Thank you very much, and I can't help but ask – where did your penname come from?
i luv ewansmile – I do love cliffhangers… sometimes. This one isn't so horrible, I don't think. And I am glad you enjoyed the flashbacks :D
rlturner79 – I am most pleased you liked the birthday part; I wasn't entirely happy with how it came out, but I wasn't sure what else to do with it… I suppose, essentially, it just wasn't how I imagined it. Yet, you liked it, and that makes me glad.
Shadow Padawan – Indeed, poor Jedi. Thanks for the review.
Obiwanfan – Glad you like it, and thank you for reviewing! Hope you like this chapter as well.
Padfoot Reincarnated – Strange that just as you mentioned having been intrigued more so by the present story than the flashbacks, I come to a chapter set entirely in the 'now' – you seem to have a Jedi-like sense of intuition. It's detached; more through Luminara's eyes than Anakin's – but that won't last long, I promise – Anakin's depth of emotion is so much more fulfilling to write. Thank you for your review.
I love all of your reviews, please continue! I hope you all enjoy this new chapter, and have a safe and Happy New Year :D
- EsotericCrimson
P.S. – I just finished a 2-day Star Wars movie marathon, and am immensely inspired. So… perhaps if you like this chapter, the next one (or more…) will be up sooner than usual :D
Chapter Four: Desperation
Silence reigned in the smallish room, laced with the scent of bacta and other general antiseptics, the sterility emphasizing the dire nature of the situation beyond any doubt. Jedi Knight and Former Master were side by side, only one of the them conscious, in a strange juxtaposition of strength and weakness – as, at that very moment, for all of his physical strength, Anakin Skywalker was a fragile as the thinnest and most precious crystal, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, in spite of the incessant bodily torment he was enduring, still possessed the strongest spirit of them all.
"His wounds appear to be healed," Anakin interjected sharply, piercing the silence with little regard for its sanctity. His eyes, however, held nothing but compassion and worry, overshadowed by a fathomless fear that neither the Mirialan Master nor the young Knight himself were willing to tackle at the present time. Therefore, it remained looming above them at all times, expanding and swelling to fill the emptiness where stillness once resided.
Luminara, however, did not falter. "They are. The bacta worked well, as is expected." Her eyes surveyed the patient lying on the bed almost apathetically as she observed the incapacitated Master objectively for only the briefest of moments; he had indeed healed very well.
"Then why isn't he awake?" Anakin's voice trembled as he voiced the question, his gaze fixed upon his Master, watching his chest rise and fall minutely every few seconds, ensuring that he was still alive…for now. His stomach clenched at the very implications of the thought.
The Master Healer paused. She had known from the very beginning that she would have to explain the situation to Anakin eventually; in fact, she genuinely wanted him to understand what was going on. Regardless, she had never been looking forward to the confrontation.
She breathed deeply, exhaling her words in a fragile tone that held a certain trepidation. "He was poisoned."
Anakin's head shot up, his eyes narrowed and blazing. She had expected that much. "What?"
Luminara sighed. "The weapons weren't natural, Anakin. They were laced with a toxin, the class of which I've never before encountered. It appears to be some altered strain of Trihexalon; that's the closest specimen I'm familiar with. However, none of the vaccines I have are proving effective."
"Why wasn't I affected? We were both wounded…" He looked younger than ever as he tried so hard to pinpoint even the most infinitesimal speck of reason in a simply illogical situation. So lost and alone without someone to guide him, to offer encouragement, to protect him, and for he, in turn, to protect – it seemed that Anakin Skywalker was nothing without his Master.
"I can't say for certain why. The wounds you sustained were from the customary Federation-order blaster pistol, assumedly fired by a droid. Obi-Wan, however, sustained numerous other injuries, in addition to the blaster fire. Among which were wounds inflicted by one of these," she held up a crimson-tipped dart, the likes of which Anakin had never seen. Exceedingly complex in design, it was a maze of contorted wires and strips of a steel-like metal that he couldn't recognize by sight alone. It was tailed with gleaming silver points, each marred at their center with a tapered stream of dusky gray. A fleeting notion that the aerodynamic capability of the projectile didn't quite make sense passed through his mind before he voiced the only obvious question he could come up with.
"What is that?"
Luminara looked down at the small, pointed weapon resting in her clenched fingers, rotating it absently. "They don't compare even slightly with anything documented in the Archives. No one has any idea as to where it was engineered, what kind of technology it resembles… we've made little progress in identifying it. The venom they were infused with was almost assuredly developed as a weapon, perhaps for bounty hunters to disperse as required – yet we've searched all of the databases we can readily access, targeting specifically those systems heavily influenced by the Separatists, and have come up wanting every time. Without any indication as to the origin, it's proving very difficult to infer the nature of the pathogen."
"Isn't there anything you can do?" Anakin pleaded with her, and she nearly lost her façade of composure at the pain infused in his words as it snaked through her ears and poisoned her being.
"Every Healer here with the available time and proper knowledge has been working hours on end to find something that might prove effective. We're exhausting very possible resource we have, I can assure you. We wouldn't accept anything less."
He said nothing, but his devastation was palpable as his eyes returned to his former Master. He knew exactly what she had made certain not to say – that Obi-Wan was dying, and no one knew why, nor how to stop it.
"Perhaps you forget, Anakin, that Obi-Wan is a dear friend of mine. I would go to the end of the galaxy and back if I thought it would help him," she commented softly, almost to herself, in a failed attempt to comfort them both. Even the best of intentions were worthless, now, and they both knew it. Dauntless, Luminara tried again.
"I've been trying to locate his consciousness within the Force."
"Isn't it better for him to heal while he's unconscious?" Anakin queried halfheartedly without looking up.
"In some instances, yes. However, Obi-Wan's body cannot heal what ails him; only the proper vaccine will be able to do that…" she trailed off; her own sense of hope that such a cure might be found in time was waning with each passing moment. "Regardless," she continued, attempting with everything she was to finish the thought with brevity and an almost narrative aloofness, trying her best not to concern Anakin even more, "when a patient does heal entirely in a physical sense, if the injuries inflicted upon them are severe enough, it is often the case that they will not awaken. You see, when faced with extreme pain and suffering, the mind, especially the mind of a Force-sensitive being, seeks a place of solace and peace. If a person remains in that place, a frame of thought often deeply removed from reality, for an extended period of time without reconnecting with any external existence, it is often difficult for them to regain consciousness. Some never do." She checked her medicinal stoicism quickly, realizing how she must sound, going on in such a manner. She knew that it would do him no good to swell on the negative. He realized how serious Obi-Wan's condition was; there was no need to continue to remind him if it could be helped – it was likely that he was crushed emotionally as it was, without her apparent pessimism.
"Even the briefest response can make the most significant difference – a slight brush of two minds, and a thought or emotion shared between them. That has been what I've been striving to establish with Obi-Wan. But it's not been a very fruitful effort; I can't even find him, let alone communicate with him. The bond I share with him is no where near strong enough to search for him properly, and I'm afraid that my luck will not be improving any time soon." She stared on at her patient, who, for the first time in many moons, happened also to be one of her closest friends. She began to lose herself in memories – some distant, and some recent – of conversations with the male Jedi Master; instances of good-natured bickering, light-hearted banter, and deep conversations about both the inconsequential and the crucial – when a soft voice, weighted down in agony, pierced her train of thought.
"It's my fault. If I had gone to him, if I'd made sure that he'd gotten out safely…"
"Stop such nonsense," Luminara barked sharply, her mood changing swiftly. The uncharacteristic tone drew Anakin's eyes from Obi-Wan for only the second time since he had entered the room. Her deep blue orbs were blazing with a cobalt fire that signaled something deeper and more sympathetic than anger, but more personal and significant than mere frustration or disappointment. If there was one thing Luminara Unduli could not often tolerate, it was pointless wallowing that detracted from the possibility of the present. It served no purpose, and accomplished no goal. It was useless.
"There is nothing to be gained by mulling over the allocation of a guilt that has no proper placement. No one is to blame in this. It's war, Anakin; these things happen. If you blame anyone, blame the Separatist for initiating this conflict; blame the aggressors, not yourself. You did nothing wrong - Obi-Wan knows that, I know that, and so do you."
She paused, moving slightly closer to Anakin, who was still situated on the floor next to Obi-Wan's bed. Her anger was short lived; it had no real target, and therefore no incentive to exist for very long; and she was now overcome by a sense of sympathy greater than her previous rage. Her hand came to rest upon his shoulder, and she gave it a light, but reassuring squeeze as she whispered, "Now is not the time to be dwelling on something as petty and inconsequential as culpability."
There was silence was more as she crouched beside him with a feline grace, her olive features studying his at eye level. His face was tear-stained, with the streams of each drop being renewed as fresh ones fell without regard. His eyes, however – his eyes frightened her. They looked dead in every sense of the word; they were cold, vacant, and appeared unseeing. He didn't blink, and the orbs themselves looked glassy as he continued to weep without sound or movement, his hand still clutching his Master's with a desperate fervency. His thumb was the only part of his body he moved consciously, and it was a never-ceasing pattern that it traced as he caressed the limp hand enveloped in his own.
The Healer rose, crossing to the opposite side of her patient and staring intently at him before turning her attention to one of a great multitude of medical droids, studying its readout.
"Now, we must focus on your Master," she continued off-handedly with a solemn determination as she moved in turn to the other mechanical devices surrounding Obi-Wan, evaluating the information they had to offer her with a calculated factuality that only the most talented of medical practitioners possess. She glanced up once she had completed her analysis of the reports, her gaze seeking Anakin once more – as expected, he had not moved.
"I won't lie to you, Anakin – I can't guarantee anything. I can promise you, however, that I will exercise every resource at my disposal; I will do whatever it is in my power to do in order to save him."
He did not respond to her touch or her words, but she hadn't expected him to. She stood once more and, with a single look of mingled pity and sadness aimed at the Knight on the ground, she left him to his grief.
