Padawan Lena Baashra stares at the medical file for a long moment before she picks it up. Being apprenticed to a Jedi Healer, with high hopes of becoming a Healer herself, she has become very familiar with the medical histories of many of the Order's frontline warriors. Too familiar, in her opinion, but wars tend to not play favorites and this one is no different. Every Jedi who fights in any sort of skirmish or battle is bound to come away with at least minor injuries, and any padawan apprenticed to a Healer is going to be familiar with said injuries no matter how old they are.
Lena stares at the file and hopes that when she blinks it will shrink in size or, better yet, disappear entirely. The war has been raging for the better part of a year and some unfortunate knights and masters have accumulated a variety of scars, but she has yet to come across another file as thick and heavy as this one. The name on the front of it surprises her, but when she thinks about it, she decides that it shouldn't be that much of a surprise. Chalk it up to youthful innocence, she thinks, but then quickly reconsiders. If she is anything at all, it is not innocent or ignorant. Lena has seen too much, fixed too much, failed too much to be considered innocent. So much for hero worship, she amends. There is still a bit of awe towards the man this file represents, but she finds herself replacing most of it with pity.
Lena stares at the file, flips it open, scans page one, and closes it. All of their medical files list past injuries, allergies, and other relevant information at the front for easy access for emergencies. That way they don't have to do too much digging before a surgery or emergency treatment. It is supposed to be a brief report, easy to read, easy to memorize… this one isn't.
Lena stares at the file until the patient arrives. Today he is just getting vaccinations, and so there is no need to memorize that not-so-brief list. Her master is currently treating a long-term patient in another wing, so she is left to take care of this one by herself. Normally she doesn't get so nervous. She's done hundreds of these before with hundreds of different Jedi ranging from younglings to… well… to Council members. He is not the first of his rank to come through her doors.
But this is the first time she has met Obi-wan Kenobi face to face, and it is doing crazy things to her stomach. A soft rap on the wall to the side of the door signals his arrival and she beckons him in with a crisp wave and a friendly smile. That part she is very proficient in, thank you very much. "Good afternoon, master," she greets him.
Gray-blue eyes catch hers and don't leave. When he smiles back, she notices the sun lines feathering out from those eyes and the gray at his temples. Strange. The file lists him at only thirty-six. "Hello there," he returns. His voice carries a practiced gentleness beneath a cultured accent that makes her instantly relax.
Lena motions for him to take a seat on the bed and begins to prep the dosages. Master Kenobi needs three vaccines to counteract some fairly lethal diseases. She wonders where he is off to, but she doesn't ask. Her mind wanders to the extensive list hiding behind the thin file folder, and she wonders where he has been.
But she doesn't ask.
"Hold out your arm, please," she tells him. "We'll try to make this quick. My... um… my master told me you don't do well with needles."
They make eye contact again and he snorts. "Yes. Well. I may not like needles, but I assure you I will do just fine, thank you." There is a thinly veiled tinge of annoyance in this statement, but she can tell that it is not directed at her since he gives her a wink. "I imagine three brief shots are preferable to the alternative."
She smiles. "Definitely."
Before either of them can say more, his gaze drifts towards the stuffed folder lying at the far end of the bed he is sitting on. Lena watches, curious, as his eyelids flutter closed for half a second and his shoulders sag ever-so-slightly. The sigh that follows lasts a bit longer. When his eyes open again, they stare at the blank wall before lowering to rest on her hand that is gently gripping his arm. "Do they let you read those?" he asks, almost too quietly for her to hear.
Lena stares at the folder for a moment, wishing that she could disappear. When she looks at the Jedi sitting on her bed, in her room, in her domain and she begins to notice far more than just sun-lines and gray hairs, she decides that there is nowhere else that she should be. "Yes. They do." Her answer is just as quiet, but far more sure. This surprises her, that he sounds so… vulnerable. Heroes of his stature aren't supposed to sound that way.
Another sigh follows, and he still doesn't meet her gaze. "I suppose I should apologize then. I can't imagine that it's very light reading…"
"Most of them aren't," she says with a shrug and a smile. He looks at her in time to catch the smile at least. "I only read the front page anyway." As she talks, she expertly finds the vein she needs and slips the needle into it.
He flinches.
"I've read the front page," he returns. "It's enough."
Lena removes the needle when she's done, not missing the way his fingers tremble. "I think you should lie down, master," she murmurs. When he doesn't immediately obey, she looks him directly in his haunted eyes and gestures pointedly. "Please."
The smallest of smiles makes his entire countenance lighten considerably. "Yes, ma'am," he mutters before shifting so that he's lying along the full length of the bed. "It's not adrenaline."
She blinks, pausing as she reaches for the second vaccine. "Oh?"
"I won't feint," he clarifies with a short laugh (it's humorless). "I just get flashbacks sometimes, but I'll try and hold them at bay. Wouldn't want the whole battalion of healers flocking towards my room. Now that would get my adrenaline pumping…" The look on his face is now a cross between exasperation and wry (morbid) humor.
Lena can't help but laugh. "I'd rather not have that either. I told my master I could handle it by myself and it would be kind of embarrassing if –"
Blue-gray eyes catch hers again and stop her mid-sentence. "You're doing a marvelous job, young one," he assures her.
Lena slips the second needle in. His flinch is more subdued this time and his eyes are still on hers.
"I mean that." That said, he lays his head back and closes his eyes. "Now if you don't mind, I think I'll lie here for a few moments after you're finished and get my head on straight before I leave."
Lena eyes him carefully. His fingers are still trembling slightly, but for the most part he seems under control. Still… "Maybe I should go get my master," she starts.
Master Kenobi flicks one eye open and raises one imperious brow. It is enough to derail her suggestion before he even speaks a word. "That won't be necessary," he intones. He seems to notice her little half-step back and slips an easy smile on his face. "I'll be fine, I promise."
Before she can stop herself, she rolls her eyes. "I've heard that plenty of times before, master. I won't be surprised if you break that promise." She turns and reaches for the third and final needle.
"Perhaps you have, but I'm fairly certain you've never heard it from me." When she turns back and raises a brow of her own, the blasted man merely holds up his arm. "I don't make that promise often, but you've already been forced to read the front page of my past. I won't force you to experience it as well."
Lena turns and stares at the file and then she turns and stares at the man who bears its marks. She wonders where his strength comes from, because as far as she can tell he's a rather small-boned man with the physique to match.
Haunted eyes stare back and in them she sees what she's looking for. Somehow, beneath the scars, there is belief in there. Dogged determination. Hope.
When she gives him the third vaccination, he doesn't flinch at all. "Thank you, padawan…"
"Baashra," she answers. "Lena Baashra."
He gifts her with another small smile and then closes his eyes. "Thank you," he repeats.
Lena nods, fills out the brief paperwork and moves to her next patient one room over. It is another twenty minutes before she sees him leave through the open door.