Ch. 15: "That Wicked Spell She Cast" - Kenny Wayne Shepherd Band, King's Highway
Obi-Wan woke slowly. His head hurt, and the rest of him ached. He tried opening his eyes, but that made his head hurt more, so he left them closed and focused on determining where he'd ended up. He appeared to be on a sleep couch of some kind, but not in a private room. His sense of the Force felt distant, his pounding head in the way. Muffled voices sounded out somewhere, like he heard them through cloth or some other barrier. The smell, he realized after a moment, reminded him of the healer's wing in the Temple.
"I don't know that one."
Obi-Wan started in surprise. He had less of a connection to the Force than he'd first thought. He hadn't even sensed her there. He could feel her now, close, leaning over him, her hand resting on his chest. Something tugged on his braid, her other hand? Running down it, stopping at each of the colored markers in it. She named what each one represented as her fingers skimmed over it, and stopped at the black one he'd used to make the year he'd spent outside of the temple. "I don't know that one," she repeated, her voice sing-song, melodic.
Obi-Wan started to say something, but he could barely get his tongue to move. Sand coated the inside of his mouth.
"You're awake," the woman - nurse? - said, and then a straw touched his lips. He sucked on it, and cool water flooded his mouth. He swished it around and swallowed, grimacing at the grit. He sipped again, and this time got clear water, cool and soothing. The straw moved away. "Don't open your eyes," she said, and seconds later a warm cloth brushed over his eyes and face, clearing away the sand and grit that had collected there. He heard water running, and then the cloth wiped again, clearing more out. "Now try," she said. "When you're ready."
His thirst abated a little, he could focus better. Something restricted his left leg and his right arm, and his back hurt. At least he knew he didn't have to worry too much about that injury, if he could feel his leg. His head still pounded. "The girl?" he croaked.
"She's fine. She's waiting for her father."
The voice sounded familiar, but Obi-wan didn't have the resources to waste on figuring it out. He concentrated on getting his eyes open. "More water, please?"
He could only see blurs, blobs of color he didn't try to make sense of yet. One of them, a darker roundish blob, moved. Seconds later, the straw touched his lips again, and he sucked. "Thank you."
The blobs around him slowly solidified into blue curtains, the equipment he'd half expected, and a Foilani woman who looked familiar, even down to her angry and disapproving look. She wore blue, lighter than the curtains around his medical couch. "Hello, Padawan Kenobi. It is good to see you again, and that is no lie,"
The sheer hatred in her musical voice brought recognition. "Di'ona," he whispered hoarsely. She looked no different than she had the last time he'd seen her, seven years ago when the council had banished her and the rest of his former masters. She did not, he noted randomly, wear the riches Taman had sported when they'd met two years ago.
He could see no way out except past her and through the curtains. If he could reach them, he would have space to move. He tried to get off the medical couch, and the movement sent pain ricocheting through his body and head so sharp he gasped for breath. His ribs ached as he collapsed back to the couch.
"Your left leg is broken," Di'ona said conversationally, as if he hadn't moved. "You won't be walking for a while. Your right arm is also broken, and you have cracked ribs. The bump on your head has to hurt." She hesitated. An expression of regret crossed her face that surprised Obi-Wan, and gave him hope. "You're so close to your trials," she went on, quieter. "It's almost a shame…." She paused again, then shook her head and the regret faded from her expression "Shame or not, you cannot be allowed…."
As soon as the regret left her expression, Obi-Wan tried to get up again, guarded against the pain he knew about now. He reached for the Force for help, but that made his head pound, and shattered his concentration.
She grabbed his arm, pinning it to the couch with embarrassing ease, and pressed a hypo-spray to his shoulder. "This is a neural blocker," she said. "It will help with the pain."
The liquid from the spray burned initially, but brought a soothing respite almost immediately. He started to gather himself to try again, the lack of pain clearing his connection with the Force.
Pain - not his, he knew it - pressed in on his mind, and he struggled to reach the Force. It retreated even as the pain in his own body numbed further. He might not have been able to use it, but he could feel it. With the retreat of the Force, his shields started to crumble. Pain from the others in the clinic - and the medics working there - crowded in on him, and he struggled to raise his shields again, trying to hide his fear from her. His frantic efforts to reach the Force only seemed to make it retreat faster. It confused him even more.
"The problem with this particular blocker," Di'ona went on, "is that it causes disorientation, and blocks a connection with the Force, if you happen to have one."
Obi-Wan barely heard her, trying to calm down enough to reach for the Force, the pain from the others overwhelming. He felt one last weak warning, and focused on Di'ona again. She held another hypo-spray in her hand, and he didn't want that near him. In desperation, he threw himself off the medical couch, catching her by surprise, and lurched for the curtains, away from the wall, for the room beyond. He saw a blur of movement, other beings in the same light blue Di'ona wore, more medical couches with curtains on either side, and a couple probably occupied with the curtains drawn. He found the main door and turned in that direction. He had to get out of there before he did more damage to everyone in here, had to draw her out so she hurt no one else.
Di'ona grabbed his uninjured arm, catching him by surprise, and pressed the hypo-spray into his shoulder. "This will be the end of you," she sang into his ear.
The malice in her voice only increased his desperation. He wrenched his arm from her grasp and lurched toward the door. Someone stepped in his way, blocking it, and he stifled a sob. Another being took his arm and he wrenched it away, hearing the words they spoke (and some yelled) but unable to make sense of them. They wouldn't let him out, and everything had started to blend and run together and he knew he couldn't let Di'ona get him again.
Something bright caught his eye, steady and not moving, A familiar nudge pushed him in that direction - the Force? He couldn't tell - and so used to following it, he went. A dark hole, surrounded by a brightness, beckoned to him.
It occurred to him, as he lurched over, that if the Force could direct him, he could use it. He tried to push away the beings crowded around him, and while it responded sluggishly, it did respond. With it's return came also the pain in his leg and arm and back and head, but the connection remained clear enough to use to keep himself free until he could get into that cave. He couldn't bend the broken leg, but he could his other, and he pulled it in against his chest. Beings still tried to get him out and he kicked at them, his body responding better than the Force, in spite of the pain. He finally connected, feeling it both in his feet and his wrist when he broke someone else's. After that, they retreated and he gathered his resources for the next onslaught.
All of that distracted him from his shields, his fear of getting caught by Di'ona suddenly blatantly clear to everyone - even if they didn't know it - and the clinic erupted into panic. He knew, dimly, that he'd caused this, but he couldn't help feeling grateful for the further respite as the medics worked to get their patients out and away to calm them down. It helped him, too, because as they left, he could find himself better, know which was his pain and his feelings, and he could gather his strength for when they came in again. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his words echoing in his head and in the small cave he'd found himself in.