Chapter 8. In Pursuit of Answers

"Anything?"

"Nothing that sheds light; for answers we must still seek."

Mace and Yoda split their time, keeping vigil at the medical center and interviewing all involved, however peripheral that involvement had been.

The Force was as silent as the witnesses were voluble, neither providing any useful information. Any explanation as to what had actually transpired between the two Jedi could only come from the actual participants to the battle and its aftermath, the explanation yet locked in silence.

It was more coincidence than planning that had Mace primarily in charge of communicating with the Council and spending time at the bedside of the two injured Jedi while Yoda spent the bulk of his time gathering information and enlightenment from the Force.

Or so Mace claimed.

Dealing with Jar Jar Binks and the Gungans had strained the Jedi master's patience; his normally dour expression a glower.

"Bombad fiercesomeness," Jar Jar had wailed to Boss Nass after one of Mace's trying attempts to ascertain how he had perceived the interactions between the two Jedi and "little Ani." "Meesa prefer tiny green one wit da big ears."

Within earshot, Mace had actually gone so far as to grin – internally. He would be happy to cooperate: he would let Yoda deal with the infernal racket of a screeching semi-aquatic creature - his ears were less sensitive to the screeches – those ears no doubt diffused some of the frequency waves over a larger area thus diminishing the impact. True or not, it was a handy rationalization that served his purpose.

After some time it was quickly decided to have the entire Council - along with a Jedi healer – come to Naboo, as neither Jedi was yet in shape to travel to the Temple.

The demands of a severely wounded body kept Qui-Gon asleep for hours at a time, his time awake brief and usually when Anakin was at his side. Obi-Wan lay huddled within misery, body wracked with occasional tremors whether awake or asleep. Fatigue and shock had silenced the usually dry-witted padawan other than for soft whimpers that escaped too-taut lips.

Why?

"Why, Obi-Wan?" Mace sat at Obi-Wan's bedside after some time spent at Qui-Gon's. He studied the bruised skin around his closed eyes, the flexing of his fingers that nearly always predicated the onslaught of some sort of muscular contractions.

Why was Obi-Wan plagued with physical spasms from a broken bond?

Why was the bond severed so violently at all, and by whom? Why had a padawan with little training in healing been able to keep alive one who had been fatally wounded, or nearly so?

Why, why, why. Why?

Too many questions had too few answers. Clearly, past decisions had to be made or revisited, perhaps reversed. Yoda and Mace would not take the responsibility on themselves – too much was at stake.

Anakin Skywalker – should their decision stand not to train him?

No one, not one, denied he had been instrumental in the battle. The destruction of the droid control ship had been one of two pivotal points in the successful assault to regain control, the other being the Queen's capture of Nute Gunray.

If Anakin's success was not just luck, not just a random coincidence of providential events, it had to be conceded, however reluctantly, that a nine-year-old child had had enough of a connection to the Force to allow it such access to his actions. Few, if any, Jedi initiates trained almost since birth would be capable of such. In recent years only one gifted child, one padawan had shown such promise – and he had been Qui-Gon's padawan as well.

Proof that Anakin Skywalker was the "Chosen One" none of this was. Deny the possibility they had misheard the Force the Order could not.

A child of such potential clearly needed to be nurtured and protected.

And trained. Trained to hold steadfast to a moral framework where power was a means to the Force's will rather than a goal in and of itself.

If nothing else, perhaps this was what the Force intended all along, enlisting Qui-Gon Jinn as its proxy. If so, the Jedi master had interpreted and acted on the Force's will in the most inhumane way possible: public renunciation of his existing padawan and worse, severance of the bond.

Other, gentler means had been possible.

There were ways to dissolve a master/padawan relationship, should a relationship irretrievably break down. It required Council approval and was never undertaken lightly. Only Yoda, of the current Council, recalled such an event. Masters chose padawans after long and deep deliberation; the padawan was expected to do the same before committing to the master.

"Umph, ah…," a strangled intake of breath brought Mace's attention back to the bedside. "I know it hurts, Obi-Wan, I know." Under his gentle kneading, the tightly clenched fists gradually loosened.

With a final pat, Mace held the now limp hands within his and scowled as he glanced upwards and demanded, "Why didn't you thump Qui-Gon on the head to keep him from blind-siding his padawan that day? It wasn't fair to him or the boy. You really should have told him to prepare his padawan to be jettisoned or at least take a time-out to explain himself before this entire mess happened – and yes, if you'd have warned me ahead of time, I'd have held his mouth shut with your help before he spouted off like that."

Almost as if chastened at the lecture, the Force settled around the exhausted and sweat-soaked padawan as the attack lessened.

"Damaged nerves overly stimulated," the healers had offered, with a shrug that told Mace they were not fully confident of the diagnosis. They had never dealt with a Jedi and the Force. What the trigger was, they could not say.

Mace couldn't bring himself to fault them. As yet no one knew exactly what, or how, the padawan had channeled enough healing energy into his master to preserve his life. How, or if, that action had interacted with the trauma of the severed bond was yet unknown.

"Always with this one, he finds a way to give what another needs," Yoda had once explained. "Should the Force have a need, he would no doubt find a way to alter a planet in orbit. Need is his greatest catalyst, not knowledge and training alone."

They had been conducting their annual review of the padawans. In some ways Obi-Wan lagged behind his age mates, in other ways he was ahead of them. Pressed for an explanation, Yoda merely stated the boy had potential none yet realized.

"Felt, have you, the way the Force enfolds and caresses him since an infant, even more so than many others? Tells me it does that here is one to watch and guide carefully."

It was one reason so many obstacles had been put in his path, or so Yoda had been convinced. Obstacles to overcome, to develop strength of will, to test the boy for what was to come, but to what end – Yoda did not know. Nor did Mace know when that conviction had been shared with him alone.

If it was true that Obi-Wan was destined for great things – if – had that destiny been thwarted at last? This latest obstacle seemed insurmountable.

"Shh, Obi-Wan, sleep, you really need to sleep." It was best he sleep for at least a day the Jedi healer had recommended from afar. "His body and mind both are exhausted. He needs to rest before you start grilling him – go easy on him, Mace."

The little troll had only chuckled when he heard the admonition. Mace wondered if they all thought he was an uncaring man, or if some of them just liked to tweak him about something he cared to keep well hidden.

He really wasn't an ogre, no matter appearances.

Mace stood facing out the window, eyes closed, deep in thought when he heard a slight rustle behind him from the bed. He at first ignored it, for Obi-Wan had been barely coherent those times he had been awake.

"M…master?" Obi-Wan's voice wobbled, his eyes opened barely a crack.

"Yes," Mace answered without thinking, quickly coming to his side.

"N…no," the young man moaned, weakly raising a hand to his head.

Mace caught the trembling hands within his. Of course, Obi-Wan had thought he was his master, Qui-Gon. He tried to sound reassuring. "No, Obi-Wan. It's Mace. Qui-Gon is recovering in another room, but he'll survive."

"G…good. Why…why does my head hurt so bad? He – he – oh, Force," and the young man collapsed upon his pillow, fighting to restrain tears. "He cast me off…he did this to me, why did he do this?"

Obi-Wan's reaction rather alarmed Mace. He could see the tears the young man tried to hide and felt the alarm and fear coursing through him. The padawan usually did a far better job of controlling his emotions. This was not fear for his master's life; Mace had already assured him that Qui-Gon was alive and recovering. This was something else entirely, but what?

"Who did what? What did he do, Obi-Wan?" He spoke softly, calmly. The young man was already agitated.

Obi-Wan shivered and in a voice suddenly bereft of all emotion he said, "He broke the bond and called me…dead to him." This time, the tears escaped and trickled down his cheeks. "I failed him, but I never knew the price of failure was so high."

"What do you mean, 'the price of failure'? You saved his life." Prickles of dread were creeping up Mace's spine.

"He blinded me."

"What!" Mace frantically searched his mind; hadn't Obi-Wan looked at him, responded to more than just his voice?

"He took the Force from me. It's gone, and it's like being blind."

Mace dropped into a chair, staring at Obi-Wan. He had trouble forming words. "Qui-Gon – he what? You said yourself your head hurts – I'm sure you're mixed up, confused. You need to sleep and we'll straighten all this out when you're feeling better. Sleep, Obi-Wan." He tried to press a sleep suggestion into the young man, but Obi-Wan rolled his head aside, eyes pleading with Mace to understand.

"It hurts worse…when I sleep. I don't, I don't understand."

It was true the unconscious mind did not shield well. No doubt Obi-Wan was correct, but he needed rest, too, but just as certainly the Council needed answers and Obi-Wan seemed to need to talk. With access to Obi-Wan's memories, perhaps Mace could understand what had happened and help the young Jedi make sense of his experiences and find some relief that way.

Hesitantly, Mace asked, "Would it help you to let me see what happened? Perhaps I can reassure you, once I -."

"It won't help," Obi-Wan said, biting his lip. "But you need to know…all right. Just find the memories and then please just – leave me alone."

"We'll do what's best for you, Obi-Wan," Mace soothed. "If that means giving you some time alone, fine. Are you sure you feel up to this?"

"No," he admitted. "But I never will, Master Windu. Better to…get it over…over with." He curled his fingers tightly trying to stop the trembling, this time from trepidation.

Mace nodded and placed his hands on the young man's temples. He frowned; there were no Force shields protecting the mind, just rudimentary ones any human could erect. Gently he let his Force senses become attuned to the Jedi's mind, although a small part of him watched through human eyes as Obi-Wan lay passively and almost unaware of another presence within his memories, though he shuddered ever so slightly.

"Are you okay? Are you aware of me?" he sent a tendril of thought. It drifted off, to fade away. He spoke the words aloud, and Obi-Wan blinked, a fleeting look of dread crossing his features.

"I don't feel you…I don't…it's all gone, isn't it?"

"It's – not present, at the moment," Mace hurried to reassure him. "I'm accessing your memories now, okay? I'm watching what enfolded, but not intruding any further than I need."

He kept a part of his focus on Obi-Wan's face; it had to be vastly disturbing to a Jedi to have another probe his mind, knowing it was being done and yet totally unable to sense it. A Jedi was trained to resist this unless he consciously allowed it.

By this level of training Obi-Wan had a greater reliance on the Force than ever, and on a deeper and less conscious level than when he was younger and trying to learn how to connect to it at will. Mace could not imagine how utterly disturbing and disorienting the experience must be.

It was easy under the circumstances to use a mind suggestion on Obi-Wan without his notice, to put him in a state of consciousness similar to hypnosis, and have the young Jedi recount everything that had happened in the way he had been taught since young – objectively, thoroughly, and without emotion as Mace "watched" the same events unfold.

The battle – the ebb and flow of the fight. Moving from one vast room into another – into a mist-filled tunnel – the fall of Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan's fight, fall into the pit – Mace widened his search a bit then, seeking to understand what allowed Obi-Wan to conquer fear and rage in order to save himself – the leap, the swing, and the jump across the room to his fallen master's side.

Mace recoiled as the slap seemed to bruise his own cheek. He lingered for just a moment, not wanting to intrude, only long enough to sense Obi-Wan's own confusion and understand what mental state the young man was in, and then he disengaged from his mind and released the young man from his trance-like state.

"So brave, Obi-Wan," he murmured. "I don't see any error on your part. Qui-Gon must have been confused to speak so. It shall be okay."

"No, I don't think so," Obi-Wan said, his voice soft. He raised a hand to his head and rubbed it. "I'm very tired, Master Windu. I think – I think I want to sleep now." He slid down into the bed and closed his eyes.

It wasn't until Mace left that Obi-Wan's tears finally found release.