Author's Notes: So a fun fact about me...

I'm an adult with ADHD. As a result, I don't ALWAYS know exactly where that line is. You know, the line that shouldn't really be crossed? I've gone back and forth with myself several times over whether or not to keep the end part of this chapter. I did finally decide to keep it, but I'm still not sure if it's too much. So... your thoughts?

Pain exploded in his back over and over again. The blows rained down so quickly, Obi-Wan could not catch his breath. Instinctively, he fought to spin around to deflect the whip. To reach for his lightsaber and cut off the vicious tendril before it sliced through his back again. But his weaponwas gone, and Obi-Wan's wrists were bound, chained to the wall before him.

"Well? Who is he?"

A new voice behind him joined that of his tormenter, bringing with it a pause in the lashes. Relieved, he sagged in his chains and struggled to breathe.

"He hasn't talked. But I'll loosen his tongue."

Obi-Wan cried out as another lash struck him between the shoulders. Desperately he fought to stretch out into the Force and find peace and calm, but he couldn't concentrate. He couldn't focus. The blows came too fast, too intensely.

"Why would a slaver try to rescue a slave from the palace? It's suicide."

Another blow. And another. One struck Obi-Wan in the center of his spine and he arched his back, crying out helplessly.

"Wait. I know you from hologram."

There was a pause in the unrelenting punishment, and he could have sobbed with relief. Before he could get his bearings, however, a rough hand tangled in his hair and jerked his head ruthlessly back. A Zygerrian peered down into his face. Obi-Wan felt a surge of anger and resentment when the creature began to smile triumphantly, his fingers twisting tighter in his hair with one hand, the other brutally grabbing Obi-Wan under the chin.

"I never forget a Jedi."

"…Obi-Wan. Come on. You need to wake up..."

"My people, we have found them."

Sunlight blinded him as he moved from the darkened transporter and into the Kadavo daylight. Obi-Wan squinted and hesitated in the doorway. Jedi training took over, and he surveyed his new surroundings and assessed the situation.

"Keep moving, skug."

He was abruptly shoved from behind and briefly stumbledbefore he regained his footing. He was exhausted, hungry, and every inch of his body ached. Longingly, he thought of the peace of the Jedi Temple, and the comfortable bed in his quarters.

How long before he would see it again?

A smug Zygerrian on alevitating throne swept in front of them, his piercing eyes fixed on Obi-Wan.

"General Kenobi, you are the first Jedi I have entertained at our educational center. Few possess a Jedi's resolve, and it is strength of will that is my greatest enemy."

Dozens of Togruta were lined up in front of him, and Obi-Wan felt a rush of delight and superiority pouring off of the Zygerrian overseer. He barely had time to process what was about to happen when the floor dropped out from below an entire row of innocent Togruta, plunging them into the nothingness below.

His heart plunged with them.

Obi-Wan wanted desperately to lashout. Instinctively his hand reached for his side... and he remembered his lightsaber was not there. White-hot anger boiled up inside him, mixing with the horror of what he had just witnessed. In the back of his mind, the mantra he had learned as a youngling surged through his mind and he angrily shoved it aside.

Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.

"Now that I have your attention, Jedi, be aware that it will not be you who suffers should you defy me."

"…Obi-Wan. Please, Master, you need to wake up..."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, once a Jedi master, now a Jedi slave. Pitiful."

Anger and resentment whipped through him, though he pointedly ignored his captor. As though he sensed the dismissal, the Zygerrian lashed out with a whip and connected it with an unsuspecting Togruta nearby.

"Keep eyes on your toil, skug!"

Obi-Wan took a steadying breath and glanced next to him where Rex worked steadily.

"Everything about this place is designed to shatter the will. It has already begun to affect

these poor people."

Pain exploded through him when the hated whip connected with his shock collar, sending dizzying waves of electricity coursing through his neck and body.

"Speech is forbidden!"

Fighting to catch his breath, Obi-Wan held up his hands in surrender and crouched.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"There will be punishment!"

Gleefully, the Zygerrian lashed out his whip to the Togruta again. A mix of outrage and dismay coursed through the Jedi, and he lunged forward to step between them.

"No, stop, it's my mistake! Leave him alone!"

"Now a slave gives me commands?" Again the slavemaster rained blows down on the already weakened Togruta.

Guilt, shame, panic, and hatred welled up in a red ball inside of Obi-Wan's belly. For an instant, he was not in a mine on Kadavo, but with Bail Organa on the Sith planet of Zigoola and the Dark Side of the Force was pressing dangerously in on him from all sides.

Die Jedi. Die Jedi. Die Jedi.

"Beg! Beg me before this one dies because of you!"

Obi-Wan fought to quell his anger and fell submissively to his hands and knees. Pain shot through his already aching legs, and he dropped his gaze humiliatingly to the ground.

"Please. Forgive me, Master."

He expected another volley of blows to fly out at him again. Instead, the Zygerrian strode casually away, laughing to himself with smug delight. The Jedi watched him go, struggling against his anger and resentment before he turned to assist the Togruta who had been punished in his stead.

To his surprise and horror, the man cringed away in fear.

"Keep away from me. Jedi only make things worse."

"…Obi-Wan!"

He jolted awake and glanced wildly around, fully expecting to see the filthy, cramped conditions of the mine on Kadavo. It took him a few pounding heartbeats to realize he was indeed in cramped quarters – but a bunk on the Resolute. Fighting to catch his breath, he looked up to see the concerned face of his former padawan peering down at him.

Anakin squeezed Obi-Wan's arm soothingly. "Take a deep breath, Obi-Wan," he said. "You're safe. We got you out of there."

Obi-Wan buried his face in the pillow and nodded, focusing his attention on slowing his breathing back to a normal pace. Force, every inch of him hurt: his back, his ribs, his head. He tried to focus, to form a coherent sentence but the room spun as his stomach churned. At length he lifted his head and peered blearily around the room. "Siri?" he asked, confused. She had been there when he had fallen asleep.

"We switched out," Anakin answered. "I sent her to catch some sleep and food." He studied Obi-Wan's face intently. "Nightmare? Or memory?"

"A bit of both," he managed hoarsely. He cleared his throat and winced, mouth dry as the desert of Tatooine. He eyed the cup dubiously when Anakin filled it with fresh water and held it out to him. Finally he sighed, pushed himself to sitting with a groan, accepted the cup and took a tentative sip. "Thank you."

"Are you feeling any better?" Anakin asked.

"If anything, I think I feel a bit worse," Obi-Wan admitted. "The pain is a bit more difficult to ignore." He didn't add that he felt both hot and cold at the same time, and he hadn't quite decided if the water would stay down. "Don't start lecturing me about a bacta tank," he added. "I'll be fine."

His former padawan snorted. "Sure you will." The younger man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and dropping his hands between them. "Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry."

"I meant what I said yesterday," Obi-Wan replied. "It wasn't your fault." He coughed and ignored the concern that passed Anakin's face. "What do you suppose you could have done that would have changed anything?"

The stubborn lift of Anakin's chin was so familiar Obi-Wan could hardly suppress a smile. "I should have been able to rescue you from that slaver scum," he insisted. "I should have fought them off, executed a better plan, and had the whole thing wrapped up before they sent you off to the mines."

"Anakin," the older man said wearily, "I was in that fight. We were outnumbered. There is nothing either of us could have done differently." He closed his eyes and willed the room to stop swirling. "Sometimes, Anakin, we do all we can and have to accept the outcome."

"Even when that outcome means someone we care about is hurt?"

"Even then." Tired, feverish eyes rested on Anakin. "We are not always responsible for what happens to those we care about."

Anakin appeared to digest and accept his master's words, for his expression became thoughtful. "You know, you should consider listening to your own advice…"

He frowned. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you, Obi-Wan, are not responsible for what happened to the Togruta."

Inwardly he groaned. He wanted desperately to lean his aching head back against the bulkhead behind the bed. That would mean pressing his screaming back into it, though, and so he set his water down and stretched out on the bed on his side.

"Responsible? No," Obi-Wan answered. "But that does not change the fact that my presence made the already difficult situation harder for them." He sighed tiredly. "I am not avoiding them out of guilt. I simply do not want to be a reminder of what happened."

"What's the difference?" Anakin asked, frustration in his voice.

"The difference is compassion versus responsibility," Obi-Wan replied patiently. "I feel compassion for what the Togruta have been through, but I recognize I was not responsible - the Zygerrian slavers were at fault."

Anakin studied him for a long, silent moment. "Then what is troubling you?"

"Other than the assortment of aches and pains, the fever, and the nausea?"

"Master- Obi-Wan," he caught himself and corrected quickly, "you trained me. You raised me. I can sense something is bothering you." He leaned forward. "You can talk to me."

"Come now, Master Kenobi. I know a Jedi won't kill an unarmed man."

The red-hot anger boiled within him, and Obi-Wan tightened his grip on the hilt of his lightsaber. Every lash and electrical jolt he had suffered at the hands of these creatures reverberated through his memory. The startled cries of the murdered Togruta as they plummeted through the floor. The pain and anguish pouring from them in the mines each time they were beaten on his behalf. He didn't just want this creature held accountable for his actions - he wanted him to pay. Each memory, each ache, each pain fueled the rage that bubbled through him and darkened the edges of his connection to the force.

That blackness taunted him, urging him to lash out with his blade and make his opponent pay. Reminded him how good it would feel to swing the saber out and slice through the Zygerrian, silencing that taunting, menacing laugh...

"Obi-Wan?"

His eyes snapped open, but he immediately had to close them again when the room began to swim. The nearness of the memory of that battle on Kadavo had pressed hard against him, making him dizzy and nauseous.

"Where did you go?" Anakin asked. "Anger was rolling off of you."

"On Kadavo," Obi-Wan answered, eyes still closed. "I was extremely angry over... well, everything." Slowly, he opened his eyes, finally settling his gaze on his young friend. "I was too close, Anakin. Much too close to the edge."

Anakin hesitated, appeared taken aback. "But you didn't go over?"

"Only by the grace of Rex stepping in and dealing with the situation on my behalf." Obi-Wan coughed again and pulled the blanket tighter around him.

Anakin grew quiet and thoughtful for a moment, then rubbed the back of his head. "I want to help you, I do," he said. "But I may not exactly be the best one to go to for things like that. Maybe you should talk to someone else. Siri, could be a good option?" He paused, mischief twinkling in his eyes. "What's going on with you two anyway?"

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked absently. He cautiously took a sip of his water and paused, waiting to make sure it would not resurface.

"I mean, she dropped pretty much everything to be by your side in your time of need," Anakin said dramatically, flashing a lopsided grin. "I don't know many who would do that – except maybe the Duchess of Mandalore."

Obi-Wan's already flushed cheeks grew even hotter. "What are you talking about?"

"Does Siri know about Satine?"

Grunting, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "There is nothing for Siri to know about Satine or vice versa."

"For a man committed to a way of life that forbids attachments, you sure have a lot of women lined up, Obi-Wan."

A fresh bout of coughing seized Obi-Wan briefly, and he curled tighter onto his side. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he grumbled, cheeks flushing both from embarrassment and exertion.

Anakin's brow furrowed as he glanced at the chrono on the wall, and Obi-Wan ignored the obvious concern. "Yeah, I'm supposed to go check in with the Council. I'll send Snips – I mean Ahsoka in to sit with you."

"I am not a youngling," Obi-Wan mumbled, burrowing into his blankets. "I don't need a babysitter."

"You're getting one anyway." Anakin rose. "I'm going to send Kix in to check on you again, too."

"Fine, fine." Obi-Wan waved dismissively at him.

He pretended not to see as Anakin paused in the doorway to give him one last worried look before he disappeared into the corridor.

Ahsoka wasn't sure if Obi-Wan was legitimately sleeping when she slipped into the room or if he was merely pretending so she wouldn't fuss over him. She briefly contemplated stepping closer to the bed to check, but ultimately decided to give him his peace. Instead, she placed the tray with a bowl of soup covered by a warming dome on the table and settled herself into a chair to read a datapad. As a Padawan, it was expected she would keep up with Temple studies as well as field combat training, and she had some catching up to do.

Early Republic history, however, was not her favorite subject. She found it dry and tedious compared to battle strategies and lightsaber practice. She sighed heavily and forced herself to re-read the same paragraph for the third time, trying her best to commit the information to memory.

"Anakin hated Temple studies when he was a Padawan too."

Her large blue eyes snapped up and rested on Obi-Wan, who was peering at her from the bed with a small, bemused smirk on his lips.

"I thought you were awake," she said, gratefully tossing the datapad on the table. She held up her hands in surrender. "I promise I will not fuss, fret, or mention medical if you promise not to make me read anything else about galactic history." The Padawan wrinkled her nose. "I don't understand why we have to learn that anyway."

"There's a lot to be learned from the mistakes we've made in the past," Obi-Wan stated. He tried to stretch, winced, and rested his palm against his ribcage while he closed his eyes.

Ahsoka bit her lip briefly and thought about calling for Kix. "Yes, Master Yoda," she shot back instead.

"No," Obi-Wan retorted mildly, eyes still closed. "Master Yoda would have said something else." He paused, brow furrowing in consideration. "Much to learn from the past, we have."

She could not suppress the short, startled laugh that escaped her lips. "Are you drunk?" she asked. "Or possibly have a concussion?"

"Well, yes," he admitted. "I amconcussed. In this case, though, I believe the fever is beginning to get to me." He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. "And my head hurts."

Feeling helpless, Ahsoka removed the warming dome from the soup. "I brought you something to eat."

Obi-Wan grimaced and shook his head. "No, thank you." He shifted and pressed his lips tightly together. "I don't think I can manage to eat anything just yet."

"Master," she said gently as she re-covered the bowl, "why don't you let me help you down to Medical?"

"Ahoska, I do not want to be a burden on your people, and a reminder of what they have been through."

"I've spoken to Governor Roshti," she said earnestly. "They don't blame you for what happened."

"I know that, Ahsoka." The corners of his mouth turned up in a faint smile. "But that does not mean my presence will not be a reminder to them of what they have been through – or that theirs will not be a reminder to me."

That gave the Padawan pause and she studied him in consideration. Though she had seen him injured and combating battle fatigue often enough to know he was not invincible, it was easy to think of Master Obi-Wan as such. He handled everything that came his way with such a grace and unflappable aplomb that she simply didn't stop to consider his struggles.

As it should be, she had to admit to herself. He was a Jedi Master. He sat on the High Council. He was a General in the Grand Army of the Republic. Obi-Wan was an example to the rest of them, a role she knew he took seriously. He should be impervious to hurt or damage. Obi-Wan should not be vulnerable. Yet here he was, lying injured and ill and all but admitting he was wrestling with a mission that had gone completely awry.

Events that, whether he would admit it to himself or not, he must feel the burden of responsibility for.

Ahsoka sighed heavily, the conversation she had with Master Tachi a short while before playing in her mind. "Master," she finally said softly, "would it be easier for you if you returned to the Temple and into the Halls of Healing?"

"I don't know," Obi-Wan replied quietly. "Part of me thinks yes – I would be able to rest and recover in quiet and under Master Che's care." He sighed heavily and dropped his head on the pillow in exhaustion. "But all the while I would be worrying about what was happening here. I have responsibilities." Faint mischief twinkled in his eyes. "Someone has to keep you and Anakin in line."

"Does anyone really keep Anakin in line?" she asked dryly, folding her arms over her chest.

He laughed, then cringed. The cough that escaped his lips deeply concerned her. "I have been trying to keep Anakin in line for many years, and have not yet managed to succeed."

Ahsoka chuckled, then leaned forward. "Master, Anakin and I do need you – whole, safe, and in one piece. If you need to spend some time with Master Che, neither of us would blame you. Honestly," she went on, "I think the both of us would feel better."

"Why is everyone fussing so much?" he wondered, grumpily.

"Because you look awful," Ahsoka replied frankly. "And it's obvious you feel it, too. Anakin is worried about you, Cody is worried about you, everyone on the ship seems to be worried about you – except you." She shot him the same brow-raised, withering gaze she often gave her mentor. "If you don't do something drastic, I can't promise Anakin – I mean Master Skywalker – won't tie you up and drag you to Master Che himself."

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, which quickly escalated into a full-blown coughing fit. He curled tightly, groaning when the episode subsided, hand pressed to his chest.

"Master!" Ahsoka cried, alarmed. She leaped up and hastily poured a cup of water. "Here, take a sip of this." She frowned when he shook his head. "Master Obi-Wan," she continued, gently, "just a little. It will help, and a tiny bit shouldn't upset your stomach."

Eyes still closed, he grumbled but nodded. Ahsoka helped him sit up slightly and guided his hand as he lifted the cup to his lips and took a cautious sip. Obi-Wan then held the cool cup to his hot brow for a moment, then nodded briefly before taking another hesitant drink.

"Better?" Ahsoka asked, taking the cup from him.

He nodded again and collapsed back on the bed. "Some," he managed.

Ahsoka studied him and pressed her lips together. Carefully, she stretched out in the Force and found his shields almost non-existent. His pain, worry, and exhaustion blared out at her, causing tears to spring to her eyes. Of all the Jedi in the Order, Obi-Wan was one she held in the highest esteem. It hurt deeply to see her grandmaster in so much misery.

"Do you want me to get Kix for you?" she asked quietly.

Obi-Wan grimaced, then nodded once. "Please."

Siri and Anakin sat across from one another in companionable silence in the mess hall, data pads and bowls of stew in front of each. Anakin was engrossed in reading field reports from his men, while Siri indulged herself in a Corellian adventure novel. Around the room were a scattering of troops, but by unspoken agreement everyone kept to themselves.

Siri sensed a shift in Anakin at the sound of footsteps and looked up from her data pad to find Ahsoka striding across the room towards them. She stopped at the end of their table and peered suspiciously into their bowls.

"What's on the menu?" asked the Padawan.

Siri considered her own bowl. "Stew - I think."

"What kind?"

"Reconstituted protein and salt," Anakin replied. "Maybe a hint of a smoky flavor."

"It's not half bad if you don't think too hard about it. Or look at it," Siri added with a shrug.

"Military food," Ahsoka sighed, and headed off to get her own bowl.

Anakin glanced anxiously back towards the door and then over to his Padawan. Siri dropped her spoon in the bowl and reached over to touch his arm. "I'm sure she didn't leave him alone," she said, softly so not to be overheard. "Let her get some food, then she can update us on how he is doing."

Anakin nodded reluctantly. "Okay, okay. I won't run down the ball and bust into his room – yet."

A moment later his Padawan plopped down next to him. She started to raise a bite to her lips but froze halfway, clearly feeling Anakin's eyes boring into her. She raised a brow and shot her Master a withering look. "No, I did not leave Master Obi-Wan alone. Kix is with him and said he would stay until one of us got there. He needed to check him over and change bandages anyway." If it were possible for Ahsoka to blush, Siri was fairly sure she would have. "Since changing the bandages involved removing clothing, I thought I'd find somewhere else to be."

Anakin rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, grinning. "Snips, you have been on dozens of missions with me and the rest of the 501st. You've seen many of us in stages of dress and undress, shared barracks with us, heard crude and rude stories around campfires, and even cracked a few jokes of your own. Why are you completely unfazed by all of that, but Obi-Wan without a shirt embarrasses you?"

Siri spooned up another bite of stew and laughed as Ahsoka's eyes widened. "Because it's Master Obi-Wan! I feel like I'm intruding on something." Ahsoka thoughtfully spooned up her own bite of stew and sampled it. "I guess I always think of him as..." She paused to consider the right word. "Proper? Maybe a little innocent? He's always so… polished. Hair in place, clothes all neat and tidy."

Anakin snorted a laugh and slanted a glance at Siri. "Do you want to take this one, Master Tachi?"

Siri suddenly became extremely interested in the remains of her stew.

Ahsoka looked back and forth between them, her expression a mix of shock, horror, and fascination. "Skyguy, you're joking when you make those comments about Master Obi-Wan and master Tachi... right?"

Choking on a bite of stew, Siri reached for her water and took a drink while Anakin laughed. She finally regained her composure before turning to a stunned Ahsoka. "Obi-Wan and I had a brief... entanglement. Years ago."

"That they occasionally revisit," Anakin added, and Siri shot him a dirty look.

Ahsoka slowly looked from one to the other. "... You have just completely shattered my mental image of Master Obi-Wan."

"There was also Duchess Satine Kryze," Anakin added, and laughed when Siri rolled her eyes.

"No way!" Ahsoka's eyes were now saucers.

"And I'm pretty sure Taria Damsin," Siri added thoughtfully.

Anakin laughed harder as his Padawan sputtered shock and horror. "Okay, okay," he said. "Snips, how is he doing?"

Ahsoka's stunned expression slowly faded into deep lines of concern. "Not good," she replied. "He has started coughing, and I don't like the sound of it."

Anakin's brow furrowed. "I noticed that when I was in there." He rubbed his forehead. "I've seen Obi-Wan sick before. I've seen him injured before. But this combination of both..."

"What did Kix say, Ahsoka?" Siri asked. She could feel Anakin's anxiety rising, and sincerely hoped Kix had told Ahsoka something that would alleviate some of the worry.

"He said he would know more after he had a chance to examine him," the Padawan replied. "He was planning to change the bandages and give him another dose of something for pain and fever, as well as antibiotics."

As if he heard them taking about him, Kix entered the mess hall. He spotted the trio seated at the table and strode over to pull up a seat. "I have a monitor on him," he said before any of them could protest his leaving Obi-Wan. "I dosed him up and he passed out."

"How is he?" Anakin asked.

Kix sighed heavily. "I'll be honest, sir, I'm worried. The infection in the wounds is not getting better - not worse, but not better. But what worries me most," he went on, "is that the pulmonary contusion – bruised lung – has caused a bout of pneumonia."

Ahsoka's brow furrowed with worry, and Anakin blew out a breath. "That's... not good."

"It's a common complication for that kind of injury," Kix continued. "I just really hate it for the General."

The three Jedi exchanged looks. "Is it time to take him back to Coruscant?" Anakin asked.

"I can get him there in two standard days," Siri replied. "That would free you up to get the Togruta to their new home."

"Will he be okay for two days on a shuttle?" Ahsoka asked.

"I can set you up with meds and equipment you would need," Kix offered after a moment of mulling it over. "Teach you to use it."

"I'd feel better if he was with Master Che," Anakin admitted. "No offense, Kix."

The clone grinned. "None taken, sir." He stood. "I'll get together what you'll need." With a brief salute, he turned and headed out.

They fell silent for a long moment, all lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Anakin broke the stillness with a cry of frustration. "If only he weren't so kriffing stubborn, he wouldn't be in this situation!"

"I don't get it," Ahsoka said, idly stirring her stew. "Why wouldn't he just go to medical in the first place, before it got so bad?"

Siri sighed, and reached for the mug of tea she had set to the side. It had gone cold, but she sipped it anyway, and then stared into the liquid.

"What?" Anakin asked.

She looked up. "I didn't say anything."

"You're sure thinking it," Ahsoka said. "I can feel the emotions rolling off of you from here and almost see the gears working in your mind."

Siri sighed and set the mug aside. Stang... she thought. She was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "How much do you know of Obi-Wan's childhood?"

"Only that he doesn't like to talk about it," Anakin replied.

She hesitated for a moment and bit her lip. "He would not thank me for telling you this, so you will keep quiet." Her steely gaze rested on each of them in turn.

"Okay," Anakin said slowly, eyeing her curiously.

Wide-eyed, Ahsoka nodded.

Siri took a deep breath. "Obi-Wan very nearly did not become a Jedi at all," she said, and held up a silencing hand against their surprise and disagreement. "For a long time, no one would take him as a Padawan," she went on. "Everyone felt he was too impulsive, reckless, and emotional." She shot Anakin a pointed look, eyebrow raised. "The Council nearly gave up and sent him off to Agri-Corps."

Anakin sat silently, brows furrowed as he listened intently.

"What happened?" Ahsoka asked.

"Qui-Gon Jinn noticed him practicing one day and saw something in him," she said. "And so, he took Obi-Wan as his Padawan." Her gaze flitted to the door, and she pictured her sleeping friend down the corridor in her quarters. "I've always thought, though, those years when Obi-Wan wanted to be chosen as a Padawan and being overlooked over and over left him feeling... inadequate." She toyed with her mug. "He was always sure Qui-Gon would decide he'd made a mistake and give up on him."

"Poor Master Obi-Wan," Ahsoka breathed.

"Since then, he has hated to feel like he is a bother to anyone. Hates to put anyone out or put them to any trouble." She smiled wryly at them. "That's why he is always 'perfectly fine' when you know absolutely that he's not."

Anakin was quiet, and Siri watched him in equal silence. Finally, he looked up and into her eyes. "Do you think that's why– "

She reached over and squeezed his hand briefly. "The Force usually puts a Padawan with a particular Master for a reason, Anakin," she said, quietly. "Come on," she added, pushing herself to her feet. "We need to let the Council know what is going on."

Anakin nodded and stood as well but paused to look down at his Padawan. Ahsoka remained seated, her arms folded on the table and forehead resting on them. "Snips?" He gently patted her shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Obi-Wan will be okay, I promise."

She lifted her head and peered up at him. "No, it's not that." She flitted a quick glance at Siri and then moaned and dropped her head again. "My illusions of Master Obi-Wan have been destroyed."

Anakin smirked, and Siri laughed as she passed by the Padawan and patted her gently on the shoulder. "Obi-Wan is a man of many talents," she said diplomatically and headed towards the door.

Ahsoka let out a moan of displeasure while her Master froze in disbelief. Cringing, Anakin shook his head. "I could have gone most of my life without hearing that," he muttered, then turned to follow Siri.