Chapter Nine: I
I is for Ill
Elanor is gravely ill.
Somehow, when she pulled the muscles, she triggered an infection that swept through her body overnight like rain drenches a desert. She woke up sick to her stomach, with a pounding headache and a raging fever – but thankfully she doesn't vomit.
Master Kenobi stays nearby now, due to this illness. His is the gentle hand against her forehead that seems to be the only thing that offers her relief from the heat of the fever. His is the soft voice that seems to be the only thing that doesn't trigger the migraines. His is the only face that seems to be the only thing that can cut through the haze that is supposed to be her vision.
But when he is not by her side, his hand on her forehead and his voice soothing her ears, she feels adrift, alone in a sea of hazed images and pain.
Memories randomly pop up in her mind's eye and she feels like she is living them again. Dreams that she used to fantasize about – building her lightsaber, being chosen as a Padawan, becoming a good pilot – also take over her mind. Ideas that she once had and tossed away return and she considers them yet again.
She feels like she is drifting in a sea of her own soul.
Only to rudely return to earth when pain ripples through her body and she coughs. She's not quite sure what the infection is – or if she's going to die from it – but it sure makes her miserable right now.
It is one of her more lucid moments.
Master Kenobi sits at her side and looks down at her, his expression tired and concerned. He reaches out and takes her hand, gently, as if she is made of glass . . . which she is not.
He shifts slightly, and she stiffens.
Because right now a memory has returned to her – how one of the men pretended to be nice to her only to lure her into an even more painful violation a few days later. And Master Kenobi is sitting next to her the exact same way he did.
Without thinking about it, she jerks her hand away from him. Then she rolls away from him and backs away into the corner of the bed, panting. Fear flares within her. Ill and injured, she doesn't stand a chance against him if he decides he does indeed want her.
He hasn't moved at all, she sees. He is still in the same position. Only confusion has come to his face and he tilts his head to examine her.
She trembles under his gaze, scared to the depths of her soul. She has known the pain of violation, and she desperately wishes to avoid it at all costs. Especially considering that he is a Jedi Master, and would be able to use the Force against her if she tried to run – which she is considering right now.
Then suddenly and swiftly, he reaches out and she flinches, cowering away from him . . . but he only touches her cheek.
The touch is brief but gentle, and it convinces her to slowly raise her eyes to meet his.
His blue-green eyes are swirling with concern and confusion; it is obvious that he doesn't quite understand yet doesn't want to rush her.
Actually, it is a gift at all that he has allowed his emotions to show so prominently past his Jedi mask . . . and she knows it is all because of her.
Because he cares for her.
Slowly, she scoots over the bed again until she is close to him. He slowly raises his hand to touch her shoulder, and although she flinches as first, she lets him. She can't help trembling slightly as his hand finds the Padawan braid buried in her hair, but he simply fingers it for a moment before letting it go.
As he retracts his hand, everything finally hits home – she is sick, and he cares for her not because he wants her, but because he really does care for her.
He starts to stand. Without thinking, she leans forward and buries her face in his tunic, clinging to him and not letting him go.
At first, he is startled; the slight stiffening of his body tells her that. But then he relaxes and his arms wrap around her, sheltering her. His embrace becomes a welcome, warm, secure place for her where she knows that nothing can hurt her because he won't let anything hurt her. She knows that as firmly as she hears the steady thumps of his heartbeat.
After a moment, he gently lets her go and pushes her to lie on the bed again.
Once, she might have been scared to see him leaning over her with her lying helpless and injured under his gaze. But that was once.
Now, things are different.
Now all he does is brush his fingers lightly over her forehead before pulling up the blankets. She closes her eyes as she senses the Force swirl around him, and moments later she feels suddenly sleepy and knows what he has done.
Being ill for Elanor is a strange feeling. Instead of feeling worse, now she feels better.
Well, emotionally and mentally anyways. Physically, she still feels like bantha fodder.
But that's what being ill does to Elanor.
I is for Impulse
Because of Elanor, today, Obi-Wan Kenobi was forced to act on impulse.
He sees how memories and dreams and ideas are returning to her, and how she is at the mercy of them. Sometimes, he is awoken by her screams and is forced to shake her out of the nightmares that hold her tightly in their grip, lest she hurt herself. Other times, he becomes part of her dreams and it takes time to persuade her that he is real and not something her imagination conjured up.
It troubles him, how quickly she is unwinding and becoming prey to whatever her unshielded and uncontrolled mind throws at her.
He tries to be there for her, to help her weather the storm, to help her stay afloat. But sometimes that backfires on him.
Like today.
When she backs away from him like a cornered animal desperate to escape but too scared to, he immediately knows that she is caught in yet another bad memory. He catches glimpses of it because she is broadcasting, but he really doesn't need to – he can see the fear swirling in her eyes.
Pure, uncontrolled, overwhelming fear.
Fear that has her skittering away from him as if he has just shouted at her and is ready to rip away everything she has regained.
Silently, he curses at her captors for whatever they have done.
Outwardly, he stills any motion and tilts his head to examine her. He allows his confusion and his concern to flood his face and eyes, washing away his Jedi mask and leaving his emotions wide open – something he hasn't done since everyone started dying. He does this because he knows that she tends to rely more on what she sees and senses about someone than what she hears or knows.
When she trembles under his gaze, sensing it yet not seeing it, he reaches out to touch her cheek.
She flinches, but when the touch makes contact, she seems to lean into it rather than shy away.
Finally, she looks up at him. He looks directly into her eyes, not speaking – he allows his emotions to speak for him. She trusts that more than she trusts anything words can convey.
Slowly, she returns to his side, quivering. He touches her shoulder lightly, running his fingers through her silky hair before turning his attention to her Padawan braid. Then he lets go, sensing that he has pushed her far enough for today – he doesn't wish to push her faster than she wishes to go.
Therefore, he is greatly surprised when she grabs his arm, halting his ascent from the bed, and buries her face into his chest.
At first, he is confused about what to do, how to react. Anakin certainly never acted this way – but Anakin never went through what Elanor did. He knows he never did this – but then again, he never went through what she did.
Besides, Elanor is different from Anakin – and from him.
After a second, he gives in to his instinct and gently wraps his arms around her, bringing her against his chest and resting his chin on her hair. She shivers slightly, but only reacts to his movements by nestling deeper into his embrace.
The position awakens something within him – something he can't quite put his finger on. It is something that he faintly remembers from a very long time ago, perhaps when he was still a young Padawan . . . before the dark times . . . before the Clone Wars . . . before the Empire.
In any case, he is not bothered by the fact that is has arisen. If anything, it has helped him right now, for as he urges Elanor to rest some more, he can see the relaxation in her expression, and he knows he did the right thing.
Obi-Wan Kenobi has finally learned the benefits of acting on impulse.