Chapter 49. Never Underestimate the Power of Love
It took nearly a week of patient nursing to ease Obi-Wan back from the depths of his mind, nearly a week for the bruises to fade and the cut to heal, nearly a week before Obi-Wan again spoke or gazed with eyes that again saw.
Not just Mace, but Yoda and Bant spent long hours by the young man's side, talking to him, unclenching his fisted hands so that they could hold a chilled hand within theirs. Touch, the healers advised, touch was the best way to reach him.
Touch they all did, all in their own way.
Mace wrapped him in blankets and patted his knee every so often.
Yoda ran clawed fingers through sweat-dampened hair and wiped tears from his cheeks.
Bant held his hand, stroking it gently, or pressed her forehead to his while Garen, newly returned from a mission, squeezed his friend's arm.
Garen asked for and was granted an indefinite leave from missions to join the circle of friends trying to ground Obi-Wan in the real world. Another childhood friend, Reeft, would be granted the same once he and his master returned.
"What can reach you, Obi – words? Touches? A memory?" Garen whispered each day he came. "I'm trying, so desperately trying – do you hear me? I'm not giving up, none of us are. The healers said you'd show us the way when you are ready."
"Obi-Wan's numb to the outside world because of the pain he associates with it. He will want to stop hiding when the shock wears off – but he might then find himself trapped within a mind unfamiliar to him in some respects and need help to come back. One day he will reach to you as you reach to him and that day is the day we can bring him back."
Garen held onto that as a mantra. Obi-Wan would reach back. One day. Someday. Any day now. Perhaps – perhaps today.
So each "today" he'd squat before his friend and search his vacant eyes for a spark, a blink of recognition. Each day was filled with hope; each night was empty with despair.
"Hey, Obi, remember when we discovered girls weren't icky?" Garen offered his friend a cup of warm coca, something he had been doing for several days. It seemed to ease Obi-Wan's trembling; it eased fingers tightly clutched to the edges of the blanket he huddled within – a refuge, a shield against the world.
Garen always had to place the mug in Obi-Wan's hand, wrap the fingers around it and urge him to drink. Once the aroma hit his nose, Obi-Wan would drink, hands loosely cradling the warm mug.
As he always did, Garen held out the mug, holding his breath and nearly dancing with joy when this time fingers crept from with within the blanket engulfing his friend to wrap around it without urging. Once assured Obi-Wan was not about to drop or tip the cup of hot liquid, he sat beside the hunched form and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
It was so strange to be the one comforting Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was always the one comforting his friends – he was never weak, never in need. Now the galaxy had shifted.
Garen started murmuring random thoughts of their childhood, of less troubled times.
"Remember when you tried to kiss Siri and got a fist in your nose for your trouble? For a five-year-old girl, she packed quite a punch, if I remember. Now me, I kissed Gailynn and she kicked me – right where it hurts. You thought it was funny, so Gailynn decided to kick you as well for laughing at me? Remember that's when we both swore off girls?"
Obi-Wan's head dipped slightly – had the words triggered something? Garen brightened. Was Obi-Wan listening – remembering - responding?
"Now me, I swore off my 'swore off girls' when I got older. You never did, did you – though I might be wrong. I thought I saw Siri kissing you once and you kissing her back. Did I imagine that?"
Obi-Wan's fingers tightened around Garen's. A tendril of excitement grew within Garen: hope mingled with fear that perhaps he was only imagining that his friend was slowly responding. If he was, was it to the humor, or mention of Siri, or just the persistence of his friends – was he lost inside struggling to reach those who struggled to reach him?
Qui-Gon could have reached him – once. Probably still could, knowing Obi-Wan, probably could if he could be persuaded to care enough to try, despite everything.
Resentment and anger welled up and were just as quickly breathed out into the Force. Resentment and anger had no place here, only love and concern, only Obi-Wan's well-being. Qui-Gon wasn't here, and Qui-Gon clearly didn't care.
Could bonds of friendship, nurtured from childhood, succeed where other attempts had failed, or was this fight Obi-Wan's alone?
Garen fed his hopes with affection, words as warm as the coca Obi-Wan held so gently.
"So, Siri can reach you, huh? I wish she were here, Obi – maybe she could find you wherever you're hiding. She was always the thorn in your side you couldn't ignore. Things got a little tense between you after that one mission – like a lovers' quarrel broke you up – or your masters. You both were rather prickly after that and didn't speak to each for a year or so."
Tears were again running down Obi-Wan's cheeks, only Garen thought these tears were different. They weren't just tears, but tears triggered by a memory, by a conscious awareness of grief. He gently wiped them away.
"She still cares for you, you know and if she were here, she'd be begging you to come back to us."
He wrapped his arms around his friend's stiff body and held his breath. Slowly, ever so slowly, Obi-Wan turned into the hug, clutching the mug with one hand as the other clutched at Garen. A tear ran down Garen's face at the contact. It was a step forward. Obi-Wan was responding, albeit silently.
He gently took the mug and set it down, pressing a gentle kiss against the top of Obi-Wan's head.
Across the room the door opened and Yoda stepped in. He sensed hopeful anticipation building within Garen, so he merely waited, listening and watching, ears curled forward.
"She's not the only one who cares. There's so many of us who care for you – come on, Obi, we need to hear your laugh and see your smile. We need you."
"Reaching him, are you?" Yoda hobbled towards them with a soft smile and settled on the arm of the couch at Obi-Wan's other side. He touched the Jedi's face with a gentle claw. "Want you back we do, young one. Missed you are."
A flicker of cognizance, matched by a flicker of hope within the two Jedi, wafted through the heretofore-empty eyes.
"Come on, Obi, we love you and miss you," Garen whispered. He took a deep breath, sensing Yoda's approval, for Obi-Wan was always quick to respond to the perceived needs of others. It wasn't fair, using that as bait to draw Obi-Wan back, but Garen was willing to try anything to reach his friend. "We need you."
"Yes, youngling, to Garen you listen. Come back to us. Safe you are. Safe to come out it is. Here to help we are, for pain shared is pain lessened."
Yoda beamed, clearly sensing something Garen could not as yet – they were reaching Obi-Wan. Garen closed his eyes in silent relief and gratitude, tears welling from underneath the lids.
"Don't make us wait – I haven't learned patience yet," he coaxed hoarsely. "Besides, Master Yoda is right here with his gimer stick. You need to save my ankle."
"Whack your ankle or even mine I would if it would help Obi-Wan," Yoda grumbled softly, his eyes creasing in a show of amusement.
Eyes blinked, but the gaze was unfocused, still. Lips parted, and though no words were spoken, Obi-Wan might have been shouting from the top of the topmost Temple spire as far as Garen was concerned. Exultation rang through the Force.
"Master Yoda – he's trying to reach back."
"Young one, help do you need to come back?" The old Jedi leaned forward and gently turned the young man's head to face him, cupping his cheek and trying to capture his eyes. "Coming we are to help you home."
Yoda reached out and linked Force energies with the knight, power and affection and hope combined into a massive wave that sought the merest cracks in the wall that separated Obi-Wan from external reality. Each brick was built of "failure," of "disgrace," and "guilt" but the mortar that held them in place was crumbling from the assault within of gratitude and joy and from without of determination and affection.
Once collapsed to dust, the walls revealed Obi-Wan still trapped within bars. Garen saw him as he had been, a boy not yet thirteen; a boy still fighting to hold onto hope even as his future was collapsing around him.
"I'm imprisoned within for the door will not open." The huddled figure got to its feet. "Have you come to get me out?"
"Here I am – we are – to get you. Come, young one."
"I can't open it." Obi-Wan mimed trying to push the door open.
"When a door will not open, sometimes a window will work. Tried to escape you have, by pushing your way out. Escape you shall by opening the door and letting the outside come in."
The boy cocked his head. Hesitantly, a hand reached forward and wrapped around a bar, joined by Yoda's and Garen. The door swung inward, creaking and groaning in time to Yoda's soft chuckle.
"Trying so hard to escape, young one, but the wrong direction you took. Trying you have been to push your way out when the way out is in."
"Oh." The boy hung his head, chastened and shrank back from the open doorway. "I did it all wrong, again."
"Forgiven you are. Take our hands, come with us. Come, come. Friends await you."
A great warmth spread through the three Jedi. It was the Force's love and compassion, channeled through Yoda. Garen had never felt so soothed, so comforted, so alive. He couldn't tell if Obi-Wan could feel it, not as he could, but something had touched him, that much was clear for Obi-Wan was shifting within Garen's embrace, his grip almost painful as it tightened on the Jedi's tunic.
Light danced and rippled across the waves of the Force.
Hope that had withered was again blooming, visible as a tentative smile on the boy's face.
"No more pain, young one. No more, if I have anything to say about it."
The boy drew a breath and a young man blew it out.
"Thank you." The whisper was full of trust, hope and gratitude – and overwhelming relief. "I don't – I don't really like – to be alone."
"Then come back to us, young one. Many care for you, worried, many are. Let not your light be extinguished by the bright sun of another."
Within the Force, Yoda extended his hand and within the Force, Obi-Wan reached back. Joined by Garen's, the three hands linked – one clasp within the Force's own hand.
Garen stifled a cry of surprise at the resulting shower of brilliant light; what should have been painfully blinding only caused a blink of his eye; the incandescent flare had been only a warmth that barely tingled against his palm when it should have burned deep. A deep sigh escaped at least one of them. Garen was pretty sure it wasn't him; he thought he was incapable of sound.
"Safe now it is to peek," the cheerful voice of Yoda informed Garen. He slowly unscrewed his eyes and saw Yoda sitting with one clawed hand against Obi-Wan's temple. He was back in his mind, alone. The three Jedi were no longer linked.
Never had he experienced anything like that. Amazing.
Garen tried not to focus on the immense power and deep compassion he had touched. Instead, he focused on Obi-Wan, who was blinking furiously and wetting his lips as if still dazed and confused.
"Hey, are you back?"
Obi-Wan nodded wearily and squeezed one of Garen's hands, then closed his eyes in deep exhaustion. The young knight held him another moment, then gently laid his friend back on the couch.
"Pleased Mace Windu will be," Yoda said softly, stroking the young man's forehead.
"He is going to be all right, isn't he?" Garen still couldn't quite believe it. "Master Yoda – thank you for bringing Obi back."
"Brought him back we did not. Joined with him we did to help him bring himself back. Would have found the way himself had he the Force with him and if undamaged his mind was." He looked at Garen and his eyes suddenly twinkled with amusement. "Just showed him how to open the door, I did."
Mace Windu had been pleased.
Walking into his quarters to find Yoda and Garen sitting in amicable conversation while Obi-Wan lay sprawled in easy and utterly relaxed slumber on the couch, Mace had sensed an easy contentment within the two that told him much.
"He's back, Master Windu."
A blind man would have been dazzled by the huge grin on Garen's face. Not Mace Windu.
"I see that, Garen." He nodded to the young knight, squeezing his shoulder in passing and squatted by the couch, studying the young man before him. "Welcome back, Obi-Wan," he murmured, straightening the braid upon his chest before loosely draping the blanket over him.
"What!" he snapped upon standing, finding Yoda's amused eyes on him. Garen was staring as if he could not quite believe his eyes. "For Force's sake, Knight Muln, put your eyes back in your head. I'm not the ogre you apparently believe I am. You might as well find that out now, since you're not a padawan any longer."
"Yessir, not an ogre, sir," Garen agreed hastily.
"Don't tell Padawan Eerin."
"My lips are sealed, sir, but," he pointed to his friend, "I think Obi-Wan already knows; that you are – I mean aren't, uh…." he stumbled over his words.
"Don't dig it any deeper, Muln."
After a moment's startled silence, the knight finally caught on and grinned weakly.
"I do have a sense of humor, Garen." Mace shook his head as Yoda softly chortled. "It's about time you found that out as well. As to young Kenobi…."
Yoda and Mace exchanged glances and Yoda nodded. Mace dropped into a seat and steepled his fingers, looking just as he did in Council - stern and formal.
"Obi-Wan has earned his knighthood, even if he has declined to accept it as yet. Under the circumstances," he glanced at the sleeping Jedi, "we have been keeping it quiet and we would appreciate your honoring our silence until things are more - settled."
Unspoken was whether or not Obi-Wan could resume the only life he knew.
As with all things unknown, Jedi didn't dwell on what-ifs. That they left to the Force.
"Declined?" Garen sighed. "Let me guess – Master Jinn has made him feel unworthy and undeserving. Obi always took everything his master said as pure truth. With all due respect, Master Yoda, he usually agreed with the Council but he would keep his mouth shut against his better judgment rather than go against his master. I mean, he'd speak up in private, but when Qui-Gon said enough, Obi shut up."
Yoda nodded. "An obedient padawan he was, loyal and hardworking."
"And what did it get him? Masters – please, what happened? I know I don't have a right to know, but how can I help him through this?"
"The truth is why we don't know why what happened did," Mace finally said. "We know enough – but not everything. That the Force has yet to reveal. Garen, I suggest you do your best to forget this conversation for now. Just be there for Obi-Wan. He needs his friends, not their questions."
Garen knew a dismissal when he heard one. He stood and looked at his sleeping friend. "I'll be there for him, Master Windu, and Bant, too. We'd do anything for Obi."
"I know you would. Yoda and I as well. Oh, and thank you." Mace walked Garen to the door. As soon as the door shut, he turned to Yoda. "I hope you shielded that power – it felt like a quake in the Force."
"Shielded from those who need not to know it was," was the serene response.
"So does he know?" Mace inclined his head towards the doorway.
"Touched the truth he has, but know what it means, no, he does not," Yoda affirmed. He laid a hand on Obi-Wan's leg. "Not even this one knows."
"Oh." Mace sunk into a chair. "Force help us all when he finds out."
"Fear him I do not. Fear for him, if it gets out – that I fear."