"Sorry," Anakin said, aware that the last thing he'd said was disturbing. Probably shouldn't talk so casually about torture and murder in a nice little house like this, with hot soup in a bowl in his lap and two people who didn't understand. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's not— I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan was frowning at him thoughtfully. "It's all right. It's like hearing a story about someone else."

Irenia didn't think it was all right. She was upset, worried, afraid, and bleeding it all out into the Force. But Obi-Wan showed no sign of being able to sense anything from anyone, and she was keeping a straight enough face. There was just a little concerned divot between Irenia's eyebrows as she leaned on the back of the couch, chin resting on her arm.

Anakin looked at her, thinking twelve different things at once, none very cheerful. Then he smiled at Obi-Wan, and gave a watery laugh. "I've got lots of stories, Master. I haven't asked you yet — which ones do you want to hear?"

"Let me think about it for a moment." It only took Obi-Wan a few seconds before he asked, "I would like to know, what does 'Alpha' mean? I'm aware it's a primary alphanumeric character in an antiquated language family, but—"

"I know what you mean." Anakin grinned.

His internal Obi-Wan voice was nowhere near as surprising, nowhere near as ridiculous as his actual master. I'm aware it's a primary alphanumeric character in an antiquated language family. You honestly couldn't make this stuff up. His grin faded when he thought about the actual question.

"Alpha was a soldier, your second-in-command." Technically, Anakin had been Obi-Wan's second-in-command but he had preferred to think of his and Obi-Wan's commissions as two entirely separate, yet partnered chains of command. "We all thought he died with you, but I guess it's possible he was captured with you, instead," said Anakin, only realizing the truth of his words as he said them. "If Ventress took you both, it makes sense that his name would be one of the only things you remember."

Only Obi-Wan would know, really, what had happened to Alpha, and he certainly couldn't tell them. Not yet, anyway. If the clone commando had been captured with Obi-Wan, though, and Obi-Wan had escaped and Alpha hadn't... There were only a few conclusions Anakin could come to. Ventress would never have bothered to keep a clone alive all this time.

Obi-Wan nodded, but his frown only deepened.

Experimentally, Anakin reached for him in the Force, comfort and question. The same wall pushed him back, like trying to get a solid foothold on sheer, smooth durasteel. Anakin grappled for a second, trying to find any crack, any awareness that he might be able to slip through.

Nothing. Not even a single fissure.

Just like before, Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice anything at all, even though Anakin had practically plastered himself all over Obi-Wan's shields — if they were shields. If it was shielding keeping him from Obi-Wan's Force presence, it was unlike any Obi-Wan had used against him before, even during their worst fights. There was no way in, except by battering them down and, while Anakin might be able to do it, it would be an act of incredible psychic violence.

Stymied, Anakin was reduced to asking. "What's that face for, Master? If you have another question—"

"Hm? Oh, no, it's just — frustrating. I feel like somewhat of an impostor. Like all this... doesn't belong to me. I wish I could..." That look, longing and confusion mixed, shadowed Obi-Wan's expression again.

"You're still the same person even if you don't remember," said Anakin, blunt because he didn't know how to be any other way. An awkward shuffle — he had to put his empty soup bowl down on the floor, get Obi-Wan's still-full one out of the way — and he moved sideways, his knee pressing against Obi-Wan's leg. "Here, look."

Anakin fit his hands to his master's neck and shoulder, easy and familiar. The scars left by Ventress stood out against his skin, but those were not Anakin's goal. Tracing down to Obi-Wan's collarbone, Anakin was momentarily dumbstruck by the reality of it: Obi-Wan, warm under his hand, watching him with curious gray eyes. Maybe it was Obi-Wan's shaved face, or that he wore only one layer instead of full Jedi robes, the way he had used to to, coming back from training when Anakin was brand-new at the Temple, but, for a second, memories of being small and cold all the time and wanting more than anything for his new master to like him overpowered the present reality.

Then, Obi-Wan's hand came up to cover Anakin's own, pressing gently and then holding his wrist. "Anakin?"

"You have a scar here." Anakin ran his thumb over an irregularly-shaped ridge of scar tissue just under Obi-Wan's collarbone. It was long, but the wound had been shallow — a little frightening because of the blood, but not something either of them had had time to worry about in the heat of the moment. By the time they had a minute to spare, it had already scabbed over. "Do you know where you got it?"

"No," said Obi-Wan. "Should I assume that you do?"

Wryness pressed at the corner of Anakin's mouth, and he took his hand back. "Ragoon-6."

"The Core World wilderness preserve?" Obi-Wan's gaze shifted, faraway in thought. "Temperate climate, populated by the native Ragoon species, offworld travelers forbidden except for the Aeton and—" Wincing suddenly, Obi-Wan brought a hand to his head. "Ah—"

"You remember it?" Delighted shock lanced through Anakin, followed quickly by concern. "Are you okay, Master?"

Irenia moved, freeing herself of her own bowl and reaching out. She tried to touch Obi-Wan, but he shrugged her off. "Do we need to stop?"

"I'm fine," said Obi-Wan, snapping a little more than Anakin thought the situation warranted. "Just a headache."

"Let me know if you start feeling any symptoms."

Symptoms of what? Anakin wondered, but Obi-Wan's body language insistently discouraged inquiry. He stayed quiet, and scooted back so that Obi-Wan wouldn't feel crowded on all sides. The amount of physical proximity Obi-Wan had been allowing thus far was extraordinary, but he didn't trust it to continue when his master was irritated.

"Of course."

Irenia gave him a hard look. "Alpha."

"I'm fine. Anyway," Obi-Wan turned back to Anakin, clearly wanting to leave the current topic behind, "I thought Ragoon-6 was a Legacy world, and doesn't allow tourists."

"It is. Like you said, travel is restricted to people from Aaeton and — us." Anakin blinked a little bit. He had been going to say "and the Jedi," and it occurred to him that perhaps that was what Obi-Wan had been about to say, before pain in his head brought him up short. "How do you know that? Do you remember?"

"No. I don't remember Ragoon-6, but I must have learned about it somewhere. I can recall climate analysis, and I feel like there was some issue with the health of the native population. But I have no memories of what it's like there, or of being there myself."

"We were there for a while. You wanted us to do some training there, but of course it didn't last a day before turning into a disaster."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm being blamed for this," said Obi-Wan.

"Well, the trip was your idea. Even if the bounty hunters weren't."

"Bounty hunters?" Irenia was clearly hoping someone would reassure her Anakin was telling some sort of joke. She was too smart, though, to have much real expectation of that.

"A few of them turned out to be nicer than they seemed." Anakin gave her the only consolation he could. "But before we knew that, Obi-Wan caught some flak from one of their slugthrowers."

At that, Irenia's entire face expressed her contempt. "Barbaric weapon."

The bounty hunters probably would have used blasters, but they weren't foolish enough to shoot at Jedi with something that could be reflected with a lightsaber. Anakin nodded, shrugging. "It was only a ricochet, though. Healed too fast for there to be any use putting bacta on it when we finally got back to Coruscant."

Obi-Wan listened with bright interest, head slightly tilted and a thoughtful crease between his eyebrows. In the past, Anakin had been used to knowing the pattern of his master's thoughts almost as instinctively as his own. Even without directly accessing their bond in the Force, Obi-Wan had never been inscrutable to Anakin. His opinions and feelings had been often difficult to understand, sure, but difficult to discern? Very rarely.

It caught in Anakin's gut and rankled that now all he could see was Obi-Wan's fixed attention, and that same half-hidden, inexpressible wanting. He couldn't tell if Obi-Wan was pleased, puzzled, uncomfortable... He had hoped to see if Obi-Wan had any associations connected with Coruscant, but, when Anakin mentioned it, the planet's name flew by like all his other words. He could see no change in Obi-Wan's expression.

"Is that why I have so many scars? Because I've been injured in places too remote to be treated immediately?"

Obi-Wan's slight glance to the side as he asked made Anakin wonder whether it was Irenia's question or Obi-Wan's. She certainly seemed interested, arching a pointed eyebrow at Obi-Wan like they had some private disagreement on the topic. Biting the inside of his cheek sharply, Anakin gathered up his jealous, possessive irritation and envisioned jettisoning out the airlock of his mind.

"Partially. During an active mission we often can't access immediate medical care beyond what we carry in our packs, and usually minor injuries aren't high on the priority list," said Anakin dryly. "There's plenty of time for wounds that would heal flawlessly with one smear of bacta to scab over and leave marks, instead."

"Is that what happened to your hand?" Irenia matched Anakin's pert tone perfectly. Yep, she was definitely the one with the acklay in this fight.

Anakin hadn't even been aware either of them had noticed his prosthetic, and suddenly felt particularly aware of its weight. He fought to avoid looking at it, or instinctively moving it out of view. "Yeah," he snarked. "Limbs can be reattached sometimes, but not on useless Outer Rim rock heaps, and not after too much time has passed."

And not when the wound is cauterized, Anakin didn't add.

Irenia didn't seem pacified. It was obvious that she thought he had something to hide. Anakin held her gaze, but knew that what she needed was a full explanation, and he still shied away from giving one. Barreling past the sharp warning in the Force when he strayed too close to explicitly bringing up the Jedi went against Anakin's every instinct.

Obi-Wan gave Anakin a knowing look. "Irenia has been half convinced that my former life involved all kinds of horrendous neglect and deprivation because 'no one receiving reasonable medical care would end up with this many untreated injuries'."

That made some sense, Anakin guessed, especially considering the condition Obi-Wan had been in when Irenia had first met him. It would be hard to not extrapolate the damage Ventress had inflicted back onto the rest of Obi-Wan's life and sure, Anakin had to admit they did get injured and captured pretty frequently. The Halls of Healing were always able to put them back together again afterward, excepting only the relatively minor marks that were sometimes left behind.

"Hazards of the job," said Anakin. "But hey, let's be fair. We have the most advanced and well-equipped medical facility in the Republic. Any neglect you experienced is probably because you're literally the worst patient in the history of sentient life."

"That's a rather harsh accusation to make when I can't even defend myself."

Humor underlined all Obi-Wan's words, and Anakin grinned. "You can pretend ignorance, but if you redesigned your clinic's security system or whatever while they were trying to treat you, then I know you know what I mean, Obi-Wan."

"I was perfectly cooperative—"

"Irenia knows what I mean," observed Anakin.

She did. Her expression hadn't softened, but Anakin could see the fondness in her eyes. Who knows what travails she had gone through trying to heal Obi-Wan — trying to get him to sit still long enough to heal — but it was clear she would do it all over again in a minute.

"Let's see if this sounds familiar. 'For pity's sake, Anakin, it's hardly serious — practically healed already! I'll go to the healers' when I need to. Stop pestering me!'" Anakin delivered a flawless imitation of Obi-Wan's aggravated voice.

Obi-Wan's only defense was a scathing eye roll, because he couldn't exactly deny it. Even if he had tried, it probably wouldn't have flown very far, given the smile Irenia was poorly hiding behind her hand.

"There's the possibility I was right," he tried.

"Don't even," said Irenia, and Anakin scoffed in agreement.

"You know that divot in your thigh?"

"Here?" Obi-Wan jabbed two fingers into the side of his left thigh. Anakin could tell by the way Irenia's eyes tracked there too that she was also familiar with the scar in question. He took a deep breath, and let it out again.

"Yeah. It was pretty deep. Knife." Anakin made an illustrative stabbing gesture. "Well, you treated it yourself and then actually wanted to leave again for another mission without getting it sealed by the healers."

"And I suppose you rescued me from my own folly?"

"No." He'd tried — but no. "You were in charge, not me. We went. Of course, by the time we got back your leg was almost totally useless and Master Che had no choice but to strap you to a bed in the healers' ward." Shaking his head, Anakin found that his words stuck in his throat. Watching his master carefully, without actually letting on that he was watching, to make sure Obi-Wan turned out to be as "fine" as he always claimed — it felt like such a long time ago. Memories from another universe. "That's why it's strange to see you at the clinic, when in the past you'd have probably performed your own amputation before actually going to the healers voluntarily."

"I don't mind," said Obi-Wan, "as long as they're not doing anything to me."

"Right." Anakin laughed. "I guess you did always make me go to the healers. Even when I tried your 'I'll be good as new after a hot shower and some rest' line, there was no mercy."

"Of course not. My problems are my own affair, but if you were in my care—"

"No, they're not! Force's sake, Master, your problems are my affair too. How many times do I have to remind you, the oath binds both ways?"

"What oath?" Obi-Wan asked. He was wincing again.

"The — It's a promise I made you. I'm sorry. Don't worry about it." Anakin slumped, allowing a thin sigh to escape him. Rehashing such an old point of contention, he had almost forgotten he wasn't talking to an Obi-Wan who remembered all those disputes. "We've had this conversation before. Several times." It had always involved yelling.

You've made a commitment to the Jedi Order — a commitment not easily broken —

Squinting so narrowly his eyes nearly closed, Obi-Wan pressed the heel of his hand to the back of his neck, almost at the base of his skull. Anakin could sense the sharp pitch of Irenia's alarm as it rose, but before he could feel any of his own, Obi-Wan said, "Protect."

Just one word, and pried loose like it had taken blood and sweat, but several seconds' silence passed before Anakin could close his slack mouth. "Yes," he said, once he had rediscovered words. His pulse was suddenly racing. "That's part of the oath—"

"What — ? There's more..."

The oath Anakin had been taught as a nine-year-old to swear to the Council, the Order, and the Jedi Code, was a little long; he didn't really remember all of it. The promises made between padawan and master were short, and Anakin remembered every syllable.

"I will seek," he said, feeling something old and wounded inside him ache.

Obi-Wan's gaze was fixed on him now, a pained crease etched into his forehead, and it was easy to imagine Obi-Wan the way he had looked standing in front of the Council years ago, at the beginning of everything. Qui-Gon dead and Padme gone, feeling like a trapped animal, Anakin had repeated the words he was told to say. At the time, he had had little more idea what the oaths actually meant than if they had been in an unknown language, but he had looked at Obi-Wan's grave face and weighted shoulders and felt as if they must be something very terrible.

"That's what you say." Obi-Wan stared at Anakin like the sheer force of his attention could reveal every mystery. "Isn't it?"

"Yes, that's my part."

"What do—" Obi-Wan flinched slightly, but shook it off. "What do I say?"

Hesitating, Anakin took in Obi-Wan's posture, tense as if braced to ward off a blow. He wasn't holding his head anymore, but his hands were white knuckled where he dug them into the cushion. When Anakin looked past Obi-Wan to Irenia, the warning in her eyes was like a slap in the face. The Force swirled, a wary oscillation that only Anakin could feel. He met Obi-Wan's eyes, and swallowed.

"You say, 'I will guide.'"

"I will guide. Yes," repeated Obi-Wan. He sucked in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. Struggle was visible in the stubborn set of his mouth and the hunch of his shoulders, but one second connected to the next and, even though Anakin waited on a knife's edge, the world did not end. Squinting at Anakin, Obi-Wan said, "I will protect."

Anakin's heart soared right through the ceiling. "I will strive."

The smile he earned in response was too wan and brief for Anakin's liking. "There's more?"

"Do you — Do you remember?"

"I know... there was a room — It was cold—" Obi-Wan hissed, frustrated or in pain or both. "I know it's there... It's there, but I can't reach it."

"Master, maybe you shouldn't push—"

"No! No, I know there's more. Tell me." Tension still lined Obi-Wan's face. He moved, purpose uncertain, but he might have been reaching out, so Anakin took his hand and held it tight anyway. "Anakin—"

His name pushed out through gritted teeth. Was it a question or a plea? Either way, the answer was the same.

"Yes, Master. I'm here."

"Tell me. Please. I need—" Every word came with difficulty, Obi-Wan almost hunched over with the effort. Irenia's fear sang in painful dissonance with the resonance of the Force. Gripping his master's hand, Anakin had a very bad feeling about this. But, Obi-Wan had asked — Anakin didn't know if he could bear to refuse.

The Force burned with the warning to tread carefully. But Obi-Wan had said please.

Decision made, Anakin dropped the words into place like each one was a hammer blow. "Master, apprentice, the Force. All are one."

Obi-Wan had gone white. His eyes had fallen closed, but still fluttered as though seeing invisible visions behind his eyelids.

"Anakin, move." Irenia was standing, gesturing urgently. Anakin hadn't even noticed her get up.

"Master?"

No answer. A heartbeat of stillness filled the room. Then, the tight-strung tension cracked in half and spilled chaos. Obi-Wan tore his hand out of Anakin's grip. The violence was baffling, contextless, and there was no chance to understand. Anakin was bodily hauled out of his seat.

"Anakin! Move!" Irenia shouted in his ear.

He moved. Staggered, stumbled, whatever — until he could get his feet back under him and catch his bearings enough to shrug Irenia's too-tight grip off his arm. She pushed him, illustrative and sharp, hands flat against his shoulders, before commanding, "Stay here."

Confronted suddenly with unexpected aggression, Anakin brimmed with adrenaline. His senses sharpened and he channeled the power of the Force like a lightning rod, an instant reaction honed by war. But there was nothing to fight. Irenia was gone, moving across the room, her attention laser focused and none of it on him.

On the couch, Obi-Wan seized.

Once, in the slave quarters of Gardulla the Hutt's Tatooine palace, Anakin had seen a man in the later stages of brainrot plague. They had carried him in still thrashing, and left him. He had died that day, but not before spending hours in agony.

Anakin remembered the floor, hard-packed rock and always covered with a fine layer of sand no matter how often you brushed it off. He remembered the terror, crouched in the corner as far away as he could be while the man suffered through seizure after seizure. He had seemed curiously false in the midst of his convulsions, like a child's doll or a toy in the hand of a cruel youngling, rather than a person. A rictus of pain twisted his limbs into grotesque contortions, stiff and shaking, and he was helpless as the rot destroyed his nervous system.

Anakin had barricaded himself against the nearly palpable misery and anguish that seemed to suffocate the room. He didn't know whether he hated the seizures more, or the panting, vomiting pauses in between. He had known the man was dying. His light was fading — even as a toddler Anakin had seen it.

Then, just a few months ago, Grievous had unleashed a strain of the same plague on the Loedorvia System. Trillions had died the exact same death — in unrelenting pain, their own bodies beyond their control. In a matter of weeks, the rot had spread through the whole quarantined sector and killed every human who was unable to escape, including more than two legions of clones.

Anakin hadn't been there, but he had been part of the force that was hunting Grievous just before. The cyborg general had managed to shake their pursuit, and so many had paid the price. For the next several weeks, Anakin had struggled to fight back the taste of bile in the back of his throat, and the hot, stale smell of the slave quarters.

He stood frozen for a suspended, infinite moment. Eyes wide open, he saw Obi-Wan thrash, entire body shuddering uncontrollably, saw him fall to the floor, his head cracking against the ground. Irenia was there — she knelt beside Obi-Wan and, with practiced hands, pushed him onto his side. From her, Anakin could sense tired sorrow, locked away and blanketed under a thick layer of determination.

From Obi-Wan — still nothing.

The rigid violence of the upheaval that possessed Obi-Wan stunned Anakin. Seeing him thrash and contort, eyes rolled back in his head, and yet being able to feel nothing but an absolute absence in the Force — it was almost grotesque, like a tiny piece of the world had been ripped out of reality. The intrusive memory of the brainrot plague — hiding his face and wishing as hard as he could that death and its peace would finally come to that slave — warred with the instinct, hardwired after years of combat experience, to lash back against attack.

If someone were hurting Ahsoka like this, how fast would Anakin have reacted? The fight would already be over. But here, he was as helpless as Obi-Wan.

When Anakin took a few halting steps forward, Irenia lifted a hand. "Stay back," she said, still crouched between Obi-Wan and the couch.

"Is it—" Anakin didn't know what he wanted to ask.

"It happens sometimes. When he fights too hard for the past."

Irenia's expression was flat when she looked at him, and Anakin said nothing else. They both waited, staying as still as they could be, as if that might somehow help Obi-Wan. It seemed to take an age for his frenetic motion to slow and, when it did, Anakin could feel his own relief surge together with Irenia's. A muffled beep began to sound, but they both had much more important things to worry about.

Carefully, Anakin knelt down. Obi-Wan seemed unconscious, lying on his side, the seizure finally releasing its grip on him and allowing his body to lapse into tranquility. His hair in disarray and eyelashes resting against his cheeks, he might have just been sleeping. He was breathing — that was the first thing Anakin looked for.

Then, he checked his master's head. Obi-Wan had hit pretty hard against the floor, but Anakin was kind of a terrible healer when he couldn't use the Force, and he wasn't sure if he would even be able to tell if anything was wrong.

"He seems okay?" he pitched the half-question to Irenia.

"Yes," she sighed, bracing her hands on her knees. "He will be. In a minute or so he should be conscious — it'll be a little longer than that before he's really coherent."

How many times had she done this before, to know that so certainly?

"Should we, uh." Anakin's hand still rested on his master's shoulder, hesitating. Should he push him onto his back? It might be more comfortable. "Should we just leave him here?"

"I usually do," said Irenia dryly. "I would probably give him an even worse concussion, trying to carry him somewhere else."

"He has a concussion?"

Irenia smiled at him, so unexpected it made Anakin blink. "No. I don't think so. I was just—" She didn't finish, and even with the Force Anakin couldn't tell what lay behind the way she was looking at him. "If you want, you could take him to the bedroom. He'll need to rest, and he was exhausted before this anyway."

"Yeah." Anakin's hand tightened on Obi-Wan's arm, and he made a conscious effort to relax. "Let's do that. If you could show me—?"

"Of course."

Anakin had some experience carrying Obi-Wan. It wasn't exactly difficult — he could lift much heavier things for much longer time periods, with the Force — but this time he didn't have to sling his master's unconscious form into an emergency carry so that he could run, so he didn't. Sliding one arm under Obi-Wan's back and another under his knees, Anakin lifted him that way, so that his head rested on Anakin's shoulder.

With a critical eye, Irenia watched him adjust Obi-Wan slightly, until he was satisfied. Anakin was about to prompt her to lead the way to the bedroom, but she turned abruptly and frowned at the wall, the side table, the couch. "What's that?"

"What?"

"That noise."

It took a minute of focus before Anakin registered the beeping, and another before he realized its source. "Oh. That's my OEI mapper. I took a reading of Obi-Wan's implant, and I guess it's telling me that it's done with its analysis."

Irenia raised her eyebrows at him, too slowly. "Where is it?"

"Uh, I think I set it on the cushion? Maybe it fell?"

It wasn't on the floor. Irenia fished it out from between the couch cushion and seat back, and its alarm become suddenly loud and jarring. She turned it off, and nodded Anakin towards the door. "This way."

Anakin followed, silent. Even his footsteps were quiet, boots against thin carpeting, and his thoughts were all for the warm weight in his arms. He could feel Obi-Wan's shallow breaths in his chest, and rested his cheek against his master's hair. He was so thankful for the quiet, and for a short moment all the worries and what-ifs and theories and possible consequences left him alone.

After a short hallway, Irenia palmed a door open and stepped to the side. "Here."

Inside was a room, small and several of the surfaces stacked with datapads and what looked like blueprints or schematics. Anakin smiled at the neat piles, and moved to lay Obi-Wan down in the bed that took up most of the floor space. It was a familiar sort of bed, maybe the same size as one a masters' suite in the Temple might have, or possibly a little bigger, but he was happy to see it was lined with plenty of good blankets. He could sense Obi-Wan in this room, too — his focus, and the faint imprint left behind by his steady glow.

Anakin wished he could sense it from Obi-Wan himself.

He was wondering indecisively whether he should put the blankets over Obi-Wan or leave him be, when Irenia entered. She dimmed the level of the lights, which was good. Anakin should have thought of that — Obi-Wan's head was probably going to hurt.

"He's fine," said Irenia, probably noticing Anakin's hesitant posture. "He'll be awake in a minute."

She sat down on the foot of the bed, folding up cross-legged like she was comfortable there. Looking for any other furniture in the room, Anakin found none. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, careful to leave Obi-Wan plenty of space. While his attention was on his master, he was constantly conscious of Irenia's eyes on him.

Anakin finally met her gaze, and was unsurprised when she lifted the OEI device and pinned him with an expectant look. "So," she said. "This."

"What about it?"

"How did you get it?"

"The scanner?" Anakin asked. He was being deliberately obtuse, sure, but she was being deliberately vague and confusing.

"No! The reading — the reading of his implant. How did you get it?"

"Uh. I attached the leads to the corresponding ports in the implant—"

"How did you get him to let you do that," demanded Irenia, frustration sharpening her voice and narrowing her eyes.

Now Anakin was just confused. "I asked?"

"You just asked."

"Yeah," said Anakin, trying not to become angry in turn. "Basically."

"Was this earlier today, before you came to the clinic?"

"No, I took the reading while you were warming the soup."

Irenia stared at him, incredulous. A long beat of silence passed before she said, "Alpha let you?"

"...Yeah? He didn't like it. He was pretty uncomfortable about it, actually, but it's not painful or anything. It takes what, two minutes?" She was shaking her head, as if in disbelief, and Anakin asked, "What? Why are you so surprised?"

"Because we tried to scan that implant several times when he first came to us." Anakin frowned at her, but she shrugged back. "Of course we did. Examination of any medical devices a patient is already using is part of the routine full physical, and a patient like him— Of course we did."

"It didn't work?"

"He fought us. Wouldn't let us even touch it."

Anakin sat back in surprise. Obi-Wan had been uncomfortable, but nothing like that . "Why?"

"No idea." Irenia's mouth flattened into a displeased line. "Broke the nose of one of my nurses on the second day he was here. Even now, if I bring it up, he'll refuse to talk to me. All he says is, 'I need that thing.'" She copied Obi-Wan's accent, tossing her head a little. Obviously, this was some kind of a sore spot.

What did it mean, that Obi-Wan reacted violently to other people messing with the implant, but only bounced his leg nervously when Anakin did? The Force had been clear about the implant, when Anakin had been here earlier — it was connected to their path forward. Maybe Obi-Wan knew that as well, even if he was blocked off in the Force.

"Well." Anakin spread his arms, nodding at the scanner Irenia still held. "You have the data now."

"Yes," said Irenia, first frowning at the device, and then at Anakin. "Would you mind if I look at it?"

She hadn't let go of the OEI scanner since she had first picked it up, and had made no move to return it to Anakin. She had to be ravenous to know what information it held — what Obi-Wan had been so determined to protect, but was unable to explain. Even so, she had still asked.

"Please," Anakin said, fighting back a yawn even though he was anything but sleepy. "You'll probably understand it better than I would, anyway. I've only ever used that thing for magnetic fields and circuit arrays."

The only acknowledgment Anakin received was a noncommittal hum. Irenia was already wholly focused on the scanner's readout.

Anakin wanted to understand too, but he didn't feel the need to urgently and immediately pore over the results of the implant scan. He would have to figure out the truth in order to help Obi-Wan, but he didn't have to chase that truth. On some level beyond the conscious, he already knew. As he waited, Anakin matched his breathing to his master's and tried not to think about the brainrot plague, or about Jabiim.

"This isn't—" muttered Irenia, before her words faded into another concentrating frown. Absently, she bit down on the knuckle of her thumb as she studied the holographic analysis scrolling in front of her narrowed eyes. "This is odd."

That much Anakin had already been certain of. "Is it not for nerve damage?"

"The scanner doesn't know. Of course, its databanks are minimal so it's not too surprising, but it was unable to match the electronic imprint of Alpha's implant to any of its own models. That doesn't mean it's not for nerve damage," she admitted. "Just that we can't confirm that it is. And — it has no maker tag."

She said that last part with foreboding, like the fact that an implant wasn't manufactured by one of the big pharmaceutical conglomerates that equipped their every product with an electronic signature to identify its make and model had to necessarily mean it was sinister. Anakin didn't know what he was supposed to say to that — half the life-saving medical equipment in the galaxy was generic or knockoff, anyway. Not everyone could be born on a comfortable Mid Rim trading planet.

"I should take this back to the clinic. The reading isn't ringing any bells with me, either. Doesn't seem like anything I've ever seen before, but the medical database we keep should be able to ID it."

"No," said Anakin, matter-of-fact.

Irenia raised her eyebrows in sardonic surprise, and he shrugged one shoulder at her.

"I'd be happy to transfer you a copy of the reading to analyze, but I'm going to have to head back to the Rotunda as soon as it's morning, and we have medical databases too." It was more likely that the GAR's database would include what he strongly suspected was one of Ventress's toys than that Irenia's civilian one would. "I'm taking the scanner back with me."

"I think it's already morning."

Anakin checked his comm. She was right, technically. "Briefing is at oh-three-hundred."

"Then you don't have very much time," Irenia observed, only a little bit pointed.

They exchanged a flat look. Anakin found himself thinking of two territorial nexu circling each other warily just before a fight. Briefly, Anakin wondered if vaguely terrifying blonde women were Obi-Wan's type — or if vaguely terrifying blonde women had a type, and it was Obi-Wan.

Irenia rested her chin on her hand and sighed, long and thin, like she had been holding it back for a long time. "You're a Jedi."

Anakin looked down at himself, as if only just noticing his robes. "Sweet Force, you're right."

Unamused, Irenia straightened sharply and jerked her chin at Obi-Wan. "And him?"

With a nod, Anakin confirmed what she already had to know. She wasn't surprised — she had just wanted to finally hear it. "Obi-Wan raised me. Taught me everything I know," he said. Mentally, he knew that wasn't completely true, but in the moment it felt true.

"I can see that." Irenia's mouth twisted slightly at the corner, and Anakin wasn't sure what exactly she was referring to. It might have been the sarcasm, though.

The humor only lasted for a brief moment, before silence and too many crowded thoughts choked it. Irenia looked at Obi-Wan, eyes full of something Anakin couldn't name, and then back to him, clearly struggling with something. Anakin could sense her turmoil, how hard she fought to stay within the bounds of what she thought of as reasonable. But she couldn't hide her fear, and Anakin thought that, even half-hidden, he recognized the shape of it.

"I will take him away," said Anakin, "if I can."

The crawling discomfort of being too well seen, a hazard of interacting with Jedi, tightened Irenia's shoulders. "What if — he does not wish to go?"

Obi-Wan was still, except for the steady rise and fall of his chest. Anakin's gaze caught on his master's face, so strangely bare, and he looked for the permanent indent that was always between Obi-Wan's eyebrows. It was still there, but only just.

"If he remembers," Anakin said, "he will."

She wanted to challenge him — Anakin could feel it. But she didn't. She wouldn't.

Irenia only asked, almost whispering, "What if he never remembers?"

Did she really think that was a possibility worth considering? Anakin knew she didn't have the Force, but... Obi-Wan would remember. It wasn't a question. Surely she had to see that too. Before responding, though, Anakin paused.

Had he imagined—?

No. Obi-Wan's breathing had definitely changed.

"I think he's waking up."

Irenia scooted forward, touching Obi-Wan's leg just briefly. "Alpha? Can you hear me?" She kept her voice soft.

There was no answer, not right away. First, Obi-Wan's breathing pattern shifted, and then his eyelids fluttered. He came back slowly but surely, stage by stage. Sounds returned before words and, when Anakin took his hand and asked, "Master?" he was able to squeeze back and make an affirmative noise in response.

The concept of giving Obi-Wan space had fled Anakin's mind; now he was practically sitting touching him. Still mostly out of it, Obi-Wan turned his head to the side and kept his eyes squeezed shut, so Anakin restrained himself and only brushed the hair out of his master's face with careful fingers. "Just rest, Master. We'll be here when you feel like doing something else."

With an acknowledging hum, Obi-Wan found Anakin's robes and blindly pressed his forehead against them, curling up at Anakin's side. The small motion astounded Anakin, and for a moment he almost didn't dare to breathe. Then, he smiled, every inch of his heart filling with light. He wanted to be with Obi-Wan in the Force, comforting him and guiding him smoothly back to consciousness. If that wasn't possible, though, he had to admit this as a substitute was all right.

It was a long minute between when Anakin looked back at Irenia, and when she was able to drag her eyes from Obi-Wan. Silence filled the spaces between them and, for a while, they let it.

"Do you have a family name, Anakin?"

Anakin tilted his head slightly. "Skywalker."

Eyes dark as she surveyed him, Irenia pressed her lips together in something that was not quite a frown. "I hope you know what you're doing, Anakin Skywalker."

Another pause. She stared down at her hands. Then, she lifted the OEI mapper and held it out to Anakin. An impatient shake in his direction instructed him to take it, and he did. As Obi-Wan began to stir a little, Anakin quickly hid the scanner away back into his belt pouch.

Slowly pushing himself up on one elbow, Obi-Wan took Anakin by surprise. He tried to sit up, but hissed in frustration, not quite able to make it. "Whoa," Anakin said, and offered his shoulder, hooking an arm around Obi-Wan and hoisting him to sit upright.

Obi-Wan's hand stayed fisted in Anakin's robes, and he seemed content to keep his arm looped over Anakin's shoulder for support, so Anakin didn't think he needed to worry about backing off. Just to check though — "You good?"

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan pressed at his eyes with the heel of his free hand. "Oh," he said, more gravel than voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I don't think I'd say that quite yet. Maybe in a minute, once my limbs feel like they belong to me again."

Irenia smiled at him, diffusing fondness into the Force. She reached for Obi-Wan's hand, and he took and squeezed hers for a moment before letting go.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh please," said Irenia.

"For what?" asked Anakin. "You didn't do anything."

Obi-Wan tugged sharply at where he gripped Anakin's tunic — a motion Anakin remembered like a lost limb, even though it had been more than a year since he'd had his padawan braid. "You both just delivered a lecture on how careless I am, didn't you? Don't pass up this golden chance to say 'I told you so,' or I'll be disappointed."

Anakin, for one, didn't feel like it.

"Pace yourself, listen to your body, consequences, chronic illness, blah blah blah," said Irenia, rolling her eyes. Apparently she didn't feel like it either. "I'm sure you can fill in the rest."

Sharp and real, Obi-Wan laughed. "At least it was worth it." He looked at Anakin, eyes still crinkled with pleasure. "I remembered something."

"I'm pretty sure you'll remember a lot more. I think I've got an idea of what might be suppressing your memory."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying one bit of what Anakin was selling.

That was all right, though. Anakin would trust the Force for his master, until Obi-Wan could do it for himself again. He nodded. "I have to leave pretty soon, Master. Get back to my men. But I'll come back tomorrow — today — whatever—" He waved a dismissive hand at the vagaries of the time system that called it morning already. "I'll come back later, and I should have more information by then. I'll find you here? Or at the clinic?"

"Yes, one or the other."

Again, Anakin got the impression that Obi-Wan was just humoring him, letting him chase after ghosts so he wouldn't upset himself. When he looked at Irenia, for once Anakin knew they were on the exact same page. An identical note of exasperation passed between them in a glance.

"Trust me, Master." Anakin turned his brightest, brashest grin on Obi-Wan. "I'm going to fix this."

Obi-Wan laughed, but his gaze was soft. "Your delusions of grandeur are somehow oddly comforting." After a minute, he added, "I'm glad you're here, Anakin."

"Me too, Master."

"What will you do?" asked Irenia. "At the Rotunda?"

"Can't say." Anakin shrugged, shoulders rolling under the warm weight of Obi-Wan's arm. He actually didn't know the details about the off-planet Separatist comm center they were supposed to be busting, so he couldn't say even if he wanted to.

"Well, whatever it is, be careful," Obi-Wan warned. "I just learned that I swore an oath to protect you, after all."

Now it was Anakin's turn to laugh. That was really not the accepted interpretation of the apprenticeship oath. Obi-Wan didn't need to know that, though, he supposed. At least, not yet.