A/N: Update, huzzah! I was momentarily distracted by Thor... now I'm juggling several SW fics, Thor ideas and an original story! Oof. I'm trying to have them in rotation, so there all at different phases of development and I can switch between them when I get stuck with one. Hopefully it will all work out. But don't you guys worry, no way have I given up on this fic!

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Chapter 7: To Progress this Way

Obi-Wan carefully spread out the thick piece of paper before him. On it was a very crude map of the compound and surrounding buildings. The unique feature of this map was that included certain rooms inside particular buildings. Nurse Misshi had drawn it herself and marked out specific rooms where things were stored—rooms she couldn't go into herself. She was fairly certain one of them held the two Jedi's lightsabers, at least that's what Obi-Wan hoped she meant.

With a deep breath to center himself, Obi-Wan prepared to go over the nascent plan he had been forming. He hoped to run it by his master after the older man finished bathing. Qui-Gon had been improving daily; Obi-Wan just hoped it was enough.

Although his master's mental and physical health was slowly returning, Obi-Wan felt as if the older man was hiding something. Qui-Gon had given him a strange look on several occasions and the padawan had trouble deciding what it meant. Even so, he worried they were running out of time. Both the general atmosphere and his connection with the Force left him with an undeniable sense of danger.

When Qui-Gon exited the fresher after his shower, the strange sequence happened again. As soon as the older man noticed Obi-Wan, he stopped in his tracks, a guarded expression on his face.

"Master?" said Obi-Wan, concerned by the older man's behavior.

Then Qui-Gon reached with the Force and gently, almost imperceptibly, brushed up against Obi-Wan's mind, as if in a most perfunctory greeting. Then he visibly relaxed and smiled, as if he only just realized it was his padawan.

That led Obi-Wan to consider the other strange thing: his master had been incredibly self-contained when it came to the Force. He could not tell if it was shielding or a general weakness caused by the injury, but it was obvious Qui-Gon was holding his powers close. They had always shared a deep connection, and while Obi-Wan had grown accustomed to his master's diminished presence in the Force, moments like these brought the absence and resulting concern to the front of his mind—reminded him of his horrifying dream.

However, Qui-Gon had yet to speak of these things, and Obi-Wan did not know how to broach the subject. The padawan decided to focus on what he did have control over.

"Master, I have something I want to talk to you about."

"As do I," said Qui-Gon, walking over to sit across from Obi-Wan at the small table.

Once he was comfortably seated with his broken leg propped up on a spare stool, Qui-Gon said, "What would like to talk to me about?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, and almost began, but then changed his mind, "You go first Master."

The padawan desperately told himself it was respect, and not fear of rejection that held him back.

If Qui-Gon perceived the struggle in his apprentice's mind, he said nothing, merely nodding.

"I have something I must confess, my Padawan," said Qui-Gon, the serious tone of his masters voice immediately claiming Obi-Wan's full attention, "I hoped it might not be true, or that it would improve with time, but I find it is not so."

Obi-Wan desperate wished Qui-Gon would get to the point, the suspense was causing all sorts of ridiculous possibilities to flood his mind.

"I have found that I am unable to… recognize people."

That was not at all what Obi-Wan had expected.

"Does that mean…" the padawan hesitated to ask, but forged ahead regardless, "you don't recognize me?"

Qui-Gon sighed and reached over and took Obi-Wan's braid between his fingers, something the padawan noticed he'd been doing with increasing frequency since his injuries.

"It seems I cannot. I can recognize your voice, your unique presence in the force, your hair, but face appears wholly… unfamiliar."

That explained so much of his master's odd behavior, the searching looks, the brushes with the Force: he was actually testing to see who Obi-Wan was. The young man had no idea how to reply to this revelation, if a reply was at all necessary.

"Has it been the same doctor since I awoke?" asked Qui-Gon, absorbing his apprentice's silence without a missing a beat.

"Yes, it has," to Obi-Wan his voice sounded surprisingly small and far away.

Qui-Gon nodded, "I thought so, but I couldn't be sure."

"Do you… want to talk to him?"

"Yes. I don't think I'm going to heal on my own. I have been focusing most of my limit resources on aiding my physical recovery, but this is somewhat beyond my knowledge."

Some of what Qui-Gon said began to sink in, "Wait, Master, are you still very injured? Should you even be out of bed?"

"Though putting strain on my injuries won't help them heal, neither will letting myself waste away in bed," said Qui-Gon with and indulgent smile, "I know my limits, padawan."

Obi-Wan still had his concerns, but held his tongue. Last time he'd fussed over his master's health he'd been compared to a mother hen, repeatedly, and he was in no mood to repeat the argument.

When Dr. Lemleshor arrived, he looked near exhaustion, but listened as patiently as he ever had. After leaving to consult his diagnostic database he returned with the results.

"Master Jinn," he began in that tone of voice all doctors seem to have just before they give you bad news, no matter the planet or race, "Your symptoms appear to match the criteria as set forth by the I.G.D.A.* for prosopagnosia. Prosopagnosia is an impairment of the ability to recognize faces, though other object recognition remains intact. The location of your head injury also matches the usual location, and is the most probable cause of the impairment, as I am sure you have surmised. Unfortunately here on Varis we have devoted very little study to the treatment of such phenomena and my access to the Republic's databases and referral system has been interrupted by the… political crisis here in Koshol. If there is any treatment, you would have to ask the appropriate specialists if you ca—when you return to Coruscant."

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon exchanged a look at Lemleshor's slip up near the end, but when Qui-Gon spoke it was as if no such exchange occurred, "Is there anything we can do?"

The doctor let out a long sigh, as if relived, and said, "It seems you are able to recognize some characteristics unrelated to facial structure, and that is all to the good. There have been cases of patients with your same symptoms functioning normally while using other cues, voice, hair color and the like, to identify others."

Qui-Gon nodded. Obi-Wan thought the conversation was over, but was taken by surprise when his master asked, completely out of thin air, "Are you the only doctor here, Lemleshor? You seem… over worked."

The doctor seemed just as surprised, but let out a laugh and brushed off the question, "Oh, I am the only certified doctor in this ward. Obi-Wan may have mentioned Dr. Shehlal, but she has moved on to more… political things. Do not let that worry you, my case load is getting lighter all the time."

The smile Dr. Lemleshor gave afterwards was the least sincere expression Obi-Wan had ever seen on his face and left him with a feeling of dread curling in the pit of his stomach.

When they were once more alone Qui-Gon immediately turned to Obi-Wan and said, "All is not well here."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement with a feeling of relief, at least he was not the only who sensed something was off.

They sat in silence for a while before Qui-Gon broke it suddenly, "You wanted to tell me something before?"

"Oh, yes!" Obi-Wan had completely forgotten he meant to tell his master about the plan he had been forming.

The padawan took a good look at Qui-Gon before replying. His master was exhausted and Obi-Wan could see it in the deepened lines on the older man's face along with his unnatural pallor. Obviously Qui-Gon was in no condition for an escape, and Obi-Wan realized he had not taken that into account while plotting with Misshi.

Throwing aside his hesitation, Obi-Wan decided to at least make Qui-Gon aware of the possibility, "I have been… planning something, incase things become too dangerous."

"Oh, really?" said Qui-Gon, curiosity piqued.

"While you were unconscious the night-nurse, Misshi, helped find some of our missing clothing. Now she has helped again with finding our lightsabers. She knows where they probably are, but cannot get in herself."

"Is she trustworthy?"

"I believe so. It's difficult for us to communicate, she doesn't really speak common, but she's been pretty insistent that her first priority is to preserve life. She hasn't really said so, but her worried expressions make me think she believes we are in some danger. The plan is not really complete, it's just a back up incase things turn ugly."

Qui-Gon nodded and said, "It's not a bad idea."

"But…" Obi-Wan instinctively felt there was more.

"But we must not get ahead of ourselves, there are still too many unknowns when it comes to the political situation, if what you told me before is true."

Obi-Wan could almost hear the comment about the Living Force coming, but instead Qui-Gon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I need rest; wake me when they bring the next meal."

"Yes, Master," replied Obi-Wan, his concern for his master's health returning.

While Qui-Gon rested, Obi-Wan watched the current news with the sound muted. The past few days seemed to have been filled with an endless series of trials. The holovids of political rallies still had Mustally at the fore, but his brooding companion had begun to distance himself. As far as he could tell, the name of the man was Hroshis, though it may have been a title instead of a given name. Obi-Wan quickly switched off the pad when it became time for the live-feed of the hangings.

*For the overly curious: I meant IGDA to stand for Inter-Galactic Diagnostic Association. They specialize in creating a standard diagnostic manual for most known species covering physical and mental illness and injury. It's fun making up acronyms :)

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A/N: Soooo, maybe that chapter wasn't perfect... but hopefully exciting? Things are going to kick into much higher gear, action wise, next chapter. This chapter was more of an emotional notch up (or it was meant to be), but soon the rest of the plot will start rolling. I'm actually a little bit excited (and daunted, this is still my longest fic to date!-or will be, when I'm finished.)

Reviews are help feed the story dragon, and he's kinda hungry!