Obi-wan paused for a moment outside of the holding cell, apprehensive. Had he taken too long, and had Vader started torturing out of boredom? Was she even alive? It would make him exceedingly angry to have her expire after all this frantic work to keep her alive. He'd put on a rather good show downstairs, he felt, of acting as though he was not in some wild hurry to fulfill an arbitrary deadline and save his padawan. As much as he was, no one else needed to know. The last thing he needed was undue suspicion.

So he was more than a little relieved to see her breathing, even if it was in small painful gasps. "Melissa?" he inquired softly, tapping her on the shoulder gently when she did not respond to his presence.

The sudden absence of the pain in her head had been almost as worse as the continuity, leaving a hollow, aching void at the base of her skull. With something of a disgusting (she would have thought, had she been in the condition to) whimper, she opened her eyes, looking all to relieved to see him. "How did it go?" she whispered, voice hoarse with the bitten-back scream.

"Admirably." He replied, with a half-hearted smile. "Now let's get you somewhere a bit more welcoming," he commented, undoing the straps that had held her down.

She nodded at him, wincing as she sat up. Holding her head in her hands, she looked up at him. "But what does this mean? Who won?"

Her question caught him off-guard. Well, no one, really. The Empire had basically come out on top, all things considered, and Alderraan would most likely be eliminated for sheer irritation, but the Resistance had proved itself perfectly capable of holding its own. They'd picked their hostage well, by all counts, and had shaken Vader's resolve some, but in all reality had lost in the long run. What had been the point? Whoever had planned it had either been extremely short-sighted (and Obi-wan knew Terryal was not), or possessed of some secret agenda and seeing some larger picture Obi-wan could not (rater unlikely, he liked to think). And how had Terryal even come into contact with the Resistance? What had he hoped to accomplish, anyway? Increasingly, Obi-wan found himself wondering if there wasn't someone else behind Terryal's actions.

"Hm?" Mel inquired gently, headache receding somewhat, not wanting to ruin whatever train of thought he'd built.

"No one, really. It was a draw… a fairly stressful draw, but a draw nonetheless." Was his verdict, spoken with a finality he did not believe. Assisting her more because it made him feel better than because she needed it (though it was rather nice), he escorted her off to her room.

- - -

Had he been asked who he thought had won, Vader would have (rather obviously) asserted that he had. After all, she was just the next room over, showering and scrubbing the taint of the Resistance from her skin, alive and unharmed.

For the most part, the situation had been resolved rather neatly without him actually having to do anything, but he would need to 'have a discussion' with Obi-wan as to what exactly to do with that idiot padawan. He doubted now, being of a more reasonable mindset, that she'd played any instrumental part.

His musings, such as they were, were interrupted in the most pleasant way possible. Katie had emerged from the washroom draped in a long, but fairly thin towel, and was looking at him, eyes soft, puzzled but almost deferential.

He smiled at her, more than satisfied. He had her, and that was the important part. The Resistance couldn't possibly have any idea how much they had shaken him, taking her. She had no idea, it was obvious, and he didn't want her too. Rather, he just wanted to take her in his arms now, hold her, and reassure himself it was for forever.

Not that thing weren't about to become a great deal more complicated. The Emperor had expressed interest in a meeting with the padawans, and had hinted at (not now, not soon, but not enough in the future not to worry) wanting to perform a formal examination (and if he had any idea how much Vader felt for her, that would be the end of that).

Best part of that was, she had no idea how powerful she herself was. He'd felt it earlier, when she'd been released… Flowers on a razor wire, he thought to himself in a rare poetic moment. Beautiful, fragile… but perfectly capable of making you wish you'd never touched her. And she had no idea. Reaching out to gently run his fingers along the line of her cheek, he- well, there wasn't a good word for it. It was not a smile, not kind enough for that, not happy enough to be a grin. Rather, the corners of his mouth lifted, and his eyes were somewhat warm, but it was impossible to escape his own intrinsic coldness.

Oh, how he loved her…