Obi-wan skidded down the hall, nearly missing that all-important door. He had been off leading the charge from behind a desk when the news of the fight had reached him. He had not waited to hear any details before racing off, and he hoped that either (a) he hadn't missed something important, and (b) that he wasn't too late. That thought chilled him to the bone, and he had never felt the weight of guilt any heavier than he felt it now.

Coming to a dead halt in the doorway, he surveyed the bloody mess with growing dismay. No one appeared to be moving; though it was difficult to tell for sure why. Apprehension building, he began tiptoeing around the bodies for a closer look.

Katie was the easiest to identify, lying in a massive pool to his left. Thankfully she was breathing (but unconscious), though he found himself (the hardened warrior he was) recoiling slightly from the mess of the body beside her. But so far she was the only one alive.

Poking at the other bodies fretfully, he found the tension building greater and greater within himself with every confirmed dead body. Where the hell was his padawan? Even if she were dead, the body would have to be around here somewhere. Perhaps she had been taken captive? That was intensely unlikely. This had been the only breach of security, and there had been no unauthorized ships that had left.

The leaden weight of guilt that had sunk into his stomach fell further. This was not supposed to happen! The entire affair had been meant has a threat, as a way for him to get back a little at the Empire, a way for him to salvage a little of his self-respect. But his plans always went well like this, didn't they?

A few shades from nearly frantic, he spotted it. The boot, presumably still connected to the rest of the girl, poking out from under the wreckage of a platform. NO!

- - -

Katie came to herself rather slowly, which was only to be expected. She was lying curled on one side, nestled comfortably on the silk sheets, which really were an improvement over her own- Wait a minute. Silk sheets? Where was she? Opening her eyes and flinching as what light there was hit them, she found herself facing an extremely communicative blank white wall. Frowning at it, she rolled over (wincing a bit. She'd obviously been in one place for a while).

And found the answer to her question pacing pensively (or perhaps merely out of boredom, but let's give him the benefit of the doubt) by her bedside. "Mmmnph." Or, as she had meant to say, good morning.

"Hullo?" Obviously, as in tune to her as Anakin was, he didn't speak Katie. He did, however, look relieved to see her conscious (coherency, or lack of, aside).

Coughing, she tried again. "Hello." It was a rather thrilling conversation, but she was trying to see if she had any lasting injuries. So far, nothing except for a bandage wrapped around her right upper arm. She did notice that she was wearing clean, not bloody clothing (which she presumed was her own) and she as well was clean and not bloody. Deciding it was best not to ask, she did find herself hoping that he wasn't the one who had washed and dressed her. "So what happened?"

"You were hit rather hard in the back of the head and blacked out. There was a possibility of brain damage, so you were put under for yesterday and most of today, just to give them a chance to monitor things." Though he didn't say it, he could have told her exactly how long, to the hour, that she had been out. It had been a bit of a nerve-wracking experience. "But it really wasn't anything else serious, just a few cuts or scrapes and they needed the beds open the medical ward, so I brought you down here. Besides, it made watching over you a bit more convenient." He'd fudged it again. It was more his being absolutely unwilling to let her out of his sight, and no one really feeling like arguing.

She, sitting up some, found the idea of sleeping here, in his bed, while completely unaware of the surroundings, rather creepy. Not that she didn't trust him… well, that was the entire problem. Not exactly trusting him. Nodding at him, she tried to form the question that had been plaguing her since before she'd blacked out. "How is… Mel?"

He looked away for the first time, breaking the eye contact. "She's alive." Hardly giving her a chance to really think about this, or to question if and what he was hiding, he dragged her into his embrace. "But why be so dark? You're awake, aren't you?" Grinning at her, he gently caressed her face. "You have no idea how worried I was."

She sighed a bit, but relaxed into his hold. "I love you too." She was now something more worried than she had been; though it was rather nice to know that her friend was still among the living. Letting him kiss her, she found her mind less on the fireworks behind her eyes and more on how she was going to have to pump him for information later. That is, if he wasn't expecting anything more given that she was already on his bed, and had already (in a sort of literal and backward way) slept with him.

- - -

First thing Mel realized was that she could think. Check one: consciousness. She was lying on her back, head elevated with what felt like three pillows, and it was taking rather more than the usual effort to breathe. Other than that, she felt miraculously free of pain. Obviously, you're either dead or paralyzed, scoffed an inner voice (one of many, as it were). Feeling something catch in her throat, she spasmed to one side and coughed.

Through her squinted eyes she could see a bowl thrust out under her head. Expelling what felt like a large nasty blob of mucus from deep in her lung she made a face while swiping at her mouth. Glancing at her hand, she was shocked to find it bloody.

"You're late." It was her ever pleasant, entirely too reasonable Master. He plunked the bowl on the nightstand, while dropping himself into the already pulled-up chair.

"What?" Mel had only half-paid attention. She was much too morbidly fascinated by the splash of blood in the bowl, complete with a shiny, rounded, squishy-looking blood clot the size of her palm.

"The 'experts' in the wing said you'd be awake some hour and a half ago." Looking up in surprise at these words, she realized that that wasn't where she was. Glancing around, she realized that the small but neat room, with its polished wood desk and chairs, had to be his own personal room. Obviously, last time she'd been there, she hadn't been paying much attention.

"How long have I been out?" Last thing she really remembered was that damned platform coming down.

"Five and half days, I believe." Which had meant, though he wasn't going to say anything, five days of no sleep for him. His guilt was crushing enough, without letting her expire while he napped.

"Oh." There wasn't much to say to that, though the feeling of having missed such a chunk of time was decidedly odd. "What happened to me?"

"Would you like the entire list?" She nodded. "One collapsed lung (the right), a broken arm, fractured ankle, foot-long laceration down your thigh, another on your left arm, and seven or eight smaller cuts in various places." He paused, sipping at the cup of tea he'd already had out. The coffee maker had broken (damn thing!) and he'd needed caffeine. "Which is surprising, given the tom of metal you were squashed under for about two hours. But you were incredibly lucky. He stressed the platform too much before dropping it so it curved, and you dropped right before it fell on you. Which saved you from a crushed skull. Also, the shrapnel that pierced your lung slid right between your ribs, instead of breaking them. And if you had turned around at all, before it fell, it would have sliced right through your heart

Mel placed a hand on her ribs protectively, before grabbing at the bowl as she lapsed into another coughing fit. Taking the handkerchief he offered her blindly, she tried to blink away the stars that clouded her darkening vision. "Then why aren't I in a whole lot more pain?" she finally choked out, panting.

"Because you weren't in a coma for the last four days. Rather, they put you in a similar state, stasis, which along with all the highly developed drugs you were pumped full of, healed the rest up far faster than normal. But after they'd spent an hour cutting your chest open to reinflate the lung, no one wanted to chance cleaning it out. So you'll be coughing blood clots for a while, until it clears itself out." He sounded much like his normal cheery self, but there were deeper circles carved beneath his eyes, and what looked like worry lines around his mouth.

"And why am I in your room?" Mel commented, not sure if she liked the idea of loads of futuristic drugs floating around her system. But, hey, it's not like she wanted to complain about being alive.

"Because they always miscalculate the number of casualties, and once you were out of the woods they needed your bed. But someone still needed to be watching just in case, and this happened to make it more convenient for me. Once you're cleared to walk, you can go back to your own room."

"I can't walk yet?" Mel sounded shocked. The idea that she needed medical permission to do something she'd been doing since she was two was preposterous.

"Course not. Otherwise, who'd stay still long enough to listen to me?" He really had missed having someone to talk too. No one else ever really paid him any attention, unless they wanted to yell at him.

She laughed, but that meant coughing. She had a sinking feeling that she'd be spending the better half of her time leaning over that bowl, quite literally hacking up a lung. "So how is Katie doing?" She said this deliberately calmly, as for all she knew her friend could be dead. But surely he would have told her beforehand…?

"Dreadfully bored. She's been up and about for the last three days, and there really hasn't been anything for her to do." Besides Vader, he added mentally, but such an obvious double entendre was beneath him to utter aloud.

"What had happened?"

"Head wound. Apparently someone didn't feel like just lying and dying, so he pistol-whipped her. Nothing too serious, they were just worried about brain damage." He omitted the part about Katie turning the man who'd attacked Mel into dog food. That wasn't particularly important.

"Not that anyone would have noticed." Mel commented, grinning to herself.

There was a bit of an awkward silence, partly due to her coughing every third word and him attempting to finish his tea before it went cold. But he did break it, after finishing his caffeine fix. Getting up, he turned and made meaningful eye contact. "Don't ever do that again. You really had me worried there." Giving her a brief, but comradely, pat on the arm, he waltzed off.

Mel sat there, watching him, not realizing that she was still grinning into the empty air.