Disclaimer: See chapter 1 for general disclaimer. Padawan healer Towani Nal is my OC.
Author's Note: Here's chapter 6 and this one is a wee bit longer than the others. If you feel things have slowed down you are right, but think of it as the climb of a roller coaster because there is still some action to come and soon! Very soon. If you're enjoying the story please leave a comment and let me know. Remember reviews strengthen the ray shield containing my muse... She is a slippery one...
Thanks:
Jedi Kay Kenobi: Thank you! I am so glad that you connected so deeply with my description of Obi's Force separation. And as for Mace, I wanted to show how truly unpleasant the collar was by showing it even got under his skin. As for your theories... well I guess you will just have to wait and see...
Elunankin: If you think things are bad for Obi now, well... just wait! Thanks for the comment about the collar. It was a labor of love to try to convey what I thought a Jedi would go through on a very fundamental level. I am glad you are following the story and I hope you continue to read along!
Please R&R!
And on to the show...
"I have good news. We will be arriving at the Temple within the hour," Mace says as he offers his friend and warm, and rare, smile. "As promised we can take these off of you."
Obi-Wan, who until now had only been staring quietly at the ceiling now turned to his friend, a flicker of hope illuminating the previously dull blue-grey eyes.
"The collar?" he asks his voice quivering slightly. Mace's smile disappears and his more characteristic frown returns. He places a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and sighs.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I thought you understood. The collar has to stay on," he pauses. "I'm sorry."
"Oh," Obi-Wan replies his eyes noticeably dimmer once more. He turns his attention back to the ceiling. "Of course."
He stops and closes his eyes for a few moments as he searches for his center; something that days ago was effortless to find, but lately has proved ever more elusive. He begins to wonder if he ever really had a center at all. Obi-Wan opens his eyes again and turns his gaze back to his friend.
"Yes, it will be nice to move again," he begins then he pulls lightly at his wrist restraints. "If you would."
He offers Mace a weak smile pouring as much sincerity into the gesture as possible.
It is not nearly enough to fool the older Jedi.
"Obi-Wan," Mace starts as he unlatches one wrist then the other. "I... know what you are feeling... what that... thing makes you feel," he continues as he unfastens Obi-Wan's ankles. He then turns and looks his fellow Councilor in the eyes. "I'm here if you need to talk," he offers in a voice much softer than his usual tone. He takes one of Obi-Wan's hands in his placing his free hand on Obi-Wan's back as he helps the Jedi rise to a seated position.
"Thank you," Obi-Wan mutters as he rubs one wrist and flexes his stiff fingers experimentally. Satisfied with the noted dexterity, he slides off the medical couch careful to allow his aching and complaining muscles time to adjust. Mace rounds the bed to stand beside him.
"Go slowly. You have been lying down for quite sometime," the older master admonishes as he reaches out to assist the younger man. Obi-Wan shoots a glare at him that could melt durasteel.
"Mace," he warns as he pulls away from the other Jedi. "Don't," he finishes. Mace's frown deepens as he crosses his arms over his chest, but he remains silent much to Obi-Wan's relief. He had already suffered Anakin's constant hovering and worry and he was grateful for the reprieve when Kix called him away to remove the bacta cast from his thigh. To Obi-Wan's great annoyance, however, Mace entered the medical bay scant moments after Anakin's departure.
Obi-Wan is tired. He is cold and he is miserable and Mace's mothering was wearing on his already fraying patience. No, not patience. His patience had evaporated the moment that infernal contraption was placed around his neck. Mace is getting on Obi-Wan's nerves. All of them were. Both Jedi's presence, well intentioned as their motives might be, were overwhelming and grating to Obi-Wan, but he could not, would not let them see that if he could help it.
Mace studies Obi-Wan closely for several seconds. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but he aborts the attempt when the main door to the medical bay slides open with quiet hiss.
"Master!" Anakin greets enthusiastically. Obi-Wan nods his response, attempting something akin to a smile through his tight lips. Obi-Wan may not have any access to the Force, but Mace does and he can sense the steady increase in tension from the ginger-headed Jedi.
"When we land," Mace starts as he steps forward taking command of the conversation and the immediate attention off of Obi-Wan. "The Council will want to hear our report, but," he pauses as he turns to Obi-Wan. "I believe Skywalker and I can handle it. You should go to the Healer's Ward. If the Council requires additional information you can see to it later."
"I should go with Obi-Wan," Anakin protests, but Mace raises his hand calling for silence from the young knight.
"The Council will require a complete report, Skywalker. Your presence is mandatory. Kenobi's is not," he says in a tone that brooks no further argument. Even without the aid of the Force Obi-Wan can tell his former padawan is fuming. Though Obi-Wan is thankful for Mace's help evading Anakin and the tediousness of the Council, Obi-Wan knows that he is more experienced with handling an angry Anakin.
"It would certainly be a great help if you could go in my place, Anakin. I am quite tired."
Anakin turns his gaze to Obi-Wan, his expression immediately softening.
"Of course, Master. I'll... come check on you later?" he asks oddly hesitant. Obi-Wan can tell that this whole... experience has unnerved the young man, but in his current state he cannot bring himself to help Anakin sort through his emotions when he hasn't had a moment to deal with his own.
"Yes, I'd like that," Obi-Wan answers. His words effectively mollify the knight, but to Obi-Wan they are indeed just words; a series of sounds strung together to appease those around him. Words, at the moment, are a means to an end for Obi-Wan—a way to, hopefully, get his well meaning friends to finally leave him alone.
"We will be landing soon," Mace intones interrupting the brief silence. "I put some clean robes in the refresher for you. I also left you my cloak. You can return it to me later," he says then, with a nod, the Council member leaves the medical bay gesturing for Anakin to follow. For a moment, Anakin hesitates, but then Obi-Wan offers a half-grin and it seems to soothe the Jedi's conscience enough to allow him to leave.
Obi-Wan sighs heavily, his head and shoulders drooping in an exhaustion that seems as mental as it is physical; perhaps even more so. Still absently rubbing at his newly freed wrists, Obi-Wan makes his way to the bay's refresher. He steps inside and notes that the unit is larger than usual; most likely to better accommodate injured or recovering patients.
"Injured or recovering patients," he thinks to himself as he sheds the dull white medical tunic and trousers. "I wonder which one am I?" With a shake of his head he steps into the shower. He adjusts the temperature to his usual setting and stands, eyes closed, under the jets of water, but the tepid deluge does nothing to warm. Obi-Wan increases the temperature slightly.
Nothing. Still cold.
He raises the temperature again. The balmy droplets pelt his body relentlessly, but their warmth fails to penetrate the flimsy barrier of his skin. He does not raise the temperature any more because he knows that if he goes any higher his ablutions will end in his searing skin and more frantic worrying from others. Instead, he gives up on being warm and begins to cleanse himself. As he does so his thoughts are vacant, his movements automatic until fingers brush across his neck and encounter the thick metal that rests there. Obi-Wan lets his fingers trace the smooth edge of his collar. His collar. A shiver races down the Jedi's spine causing the small hairs on his body to stand over puckered skin. Obi-Wan shakes his head and releases a breath he had been unaware he was holding. He places his hands on the wall in front of him letting his head hang down limply between his arms. The jets of water beat out a calming tattoo on his back and shoulders, massaging tense and weary muscles. Drops splash against his head, traveling down the silken tendrils of his hair before running down the soft contours of his face; the warm waters joining the salty rivulets streaming in well practiced silence from his eyes.
The Council meeting proceeded exactly as Mace expected. Skywalker, though clearly annoyed that his presence had been requested, dutifully recited the events leading up to his and Obi-Wan's rescue including playing the message Xanatos had left with the box. From there, Mace took over explaining Obi-Wan and the mystery box's confounding test results, the placement of the Force collar, and the collar's temporary success. The different Councilor's had asked their questions, proffered different theories, suggested possible solutions and courses of action, but eventually the room of learned Jedi fell into a contemplative yet unmistakably melancholy silence born of an undeniable truth: none of them knew how to help Obi-Wan.
At the conclusion of the Council session, the various members had each gone about their way only Mace, Yoda, and Plo Koon remained in the now empty chambers. Together the trio moved down the halls, their pace slow to accommodate the eldest master.
"Your choice it was to hide Kenobi from the Council, hmmm?" the small master asks Windu as he pokes the Councilor in the leg with his gimer stick. Quite used to the Grand Master's wizened abuse, Mace simply straightens his robs with a light sigh.
"I did not 'hide' him from the Council. I just thought he might need... that he would be better off if..." Mace pauses searching for the right way to phrase his concerns without offending the masters.
"Without stares and questions from his fellows?" Yoda supplies. Mace nods. Master Plo quietly interlaced his long claw-like fingers.
"How is Kenobi faring under the collar?" the Kel Dor master asks, his baritone voice distorted by his antiox breath mask. Mace clasps his hands behind his back and shakes his head.
"He is struggling. Since he cannot release to the Force, his emotions threaten to overwhelm him and he is quite uncertain, but he is trying desperately to appear in control," he finishes. Master Yoda nods his head in agreement, his eyes settled on some distant memory.
"Yes, much like his master he is. Very stubborn he can be. Ask for help he will not."
"In light of this situation, perhaps, when this is resolved, our approach to training may reflect what we have learned. At least with the knights," Plo pauses in thought, "perhaps with the padawans and initiates."
Mace suddenly halts in his tracks. Not expecting the abrupt stop the other two masters pauses a step or two ahead of the him. Plo turns to Mace who regards him with wide, incredulous eyes.
"Are you suggesting we put Force collars on children?"
Master Plo crosses his arms over his chest, his expression serene as always.
"I am suggesting we train Jedi to be prepared for the possibility of Force deprivation."
"But they're children!"
"They are Jedi," Plo answers calmly. It is the master's calm that reminds Mace to find his own. After taking a few centering breaths the Korun master resumes his argument.
"With respect, Master," Mace speaks his voice calm, his tone even. "You have never had to wear one of those things. It cannot be prepared for. And to voluntarily inflict it upon another... on one of our own..." he pauses. "I will have no part of it and I will fight such a policy if the Council ever considered implementing it."
"Premature this discussion is," Yoda interrupts drawing the attention of the two taller masters. "Focus we should on Kenobi. Help from us all he will need if this he is to survive."
Mace nods silently as he resumes their walk. The other Councilors fall into step beside him.
"Yes, we all need to work as one to find a solution, but I think we should be careful not to... smoother him in our concern," Mace finishes his tone unusually hesitant and awkward.
"Are you saying we should isolate him?" Master Plo asks, his slightly mechanized voice ever serene. Maces shakes his head with a frown squarely resting on his features.
"No, not at all. I am only suggesting that, in the beginning, Obi-Wan may choose to isolate himself and that we should respect it."
Master Yoda's ears twitch slightly as he ponders the words of his fellow Councilor.
"Hmmmm," the Grand Master replies. "Your thoughts on this we will abide. Give Kenobi time we will while a cure we find."
"Now, if only we can find a way to keep Skywalker from hovering over him..."
"Concerned I would not be," Yoda answers a knowing smile playing across his ancient features. "The Chosen One he may or may not be, still no match he is for Master Che..."
When Mace first offered Obi-Wan the use of his cloak he had wondered as to the Councilor's reasons, but as he climbed the steps to the Temple he was glad to have it. As the trio crossed the threshold, Obi-Wan had instinctively pulled himself deeper into the darkness of the cloak's hood. Usually, returning to the bright and vibrant halls of the Temple was a joyful, soul-warming experience. The presence of so many Force users always made the air buzz and pop with potential energy, yet it was tempered with an ever present undertone of peace and comforting tranquility. This was always how the Temple felt to him upon his many returns.
That is until today.
Today the Temple was a bleak and desolate place full of people yet woefully empty. Without his Force sense, Obi-Wan found the once familiar halls barren, strange, and foreign. It seemed he was just in another building, not his home.
For the first time since he was a teen and still growing into his body, Obi-Wan felt self-conscious. He felt that somehow all who passed him could see through the folds of his cloak to the cursed metal hiding underneath his chin and all the Jedi, despite their friendly faces and sympathetic glances, would suddenly recognize him for the Force forsaken wretch that he was. Obi-Wan tried to retreat further into his hood, his head hanging low. If his companions noticed his change in posture, they didn't speak it, but instead separated in silence as Obi-Wan made his way to the only part of the Temple he ever actively avoided—the Healer's Ward.
Still wrapped tightly in his borrowed cloak, Obi-Wan steps into the brilliantly white and sterile halls of the ward. He turns to the reception desk and finds a drowsy Zabrack padawan lounging languidly in his seat. Obi-Wan approaches the desk hesitantly. He knows he must lower his hood, revealing to the world the shame he most fervently wished to hide.
With a deep breath, Obi-Wan steps before the counter, his hood falling away at the slight urging of two unsteady and calloused hands.
"Yes, I... um, need to see a healer," Obi-Wan says. The Zabrack youth unsuccessfully tries to stifle a yawn as he leans forward to type into his console.
"Name?"
"Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"Injury or illness?"
"Umm... illness," he stammers. The youth glances up at the Jedi, a somewhat bewildered expression on his heavily tattooed face. For a moment his eyes light upon the Force collar causing Obi-Wan to tug at the edges of his cloak, pulling it tighter under his chin. Slightly abashed, the youth returns his gaze to the screen before him.
"Yes, umm, go right in, Master Kenobi. You are expected."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmurs with a slight perfunctory nod. As he walks through the large doors leading into the main hallway, Obi-Wan can still feel the padawan's wide eyes upon him. He ignores the gawking and steps into the main hall. For a moment, Obi-Wan just stands there, clutching at his cloak uncertain of where he should go, but quickly his indecisive ponderings are interrupted by a suspiciously young Nautolan female with large dark eyes and cerulean skin and head tresses. The girl is positively beaming.
"Oh! Master Kenobi! We've been expecting you. You can follow me please," the girl says as she suddenly grasps Obi-Wan's free hand and gently pulls him down the hall and into a private room. Inside and to his left there is a small couch, two uncomfortable—no, make that torturous looking flimsiplast chairs, and a large window framing a small portion of the Coruscant skyway. On his right there is a medical couch flanked at its head by various pieces of equipment and monitors. The whole room is infuriatingly white.
The bubbly padawan pulls him to the medical bed. She stands him in front of the couch and holds out her arms expectantly. It takes a few seconds for the master to realize what the girl wants. With a quiet sigh he shrugs off his last sense of security and hands it to the younger Jedi. She takes the cloak, folding it reverently over one arm then motions to the bed behind him. Obi-Wan slides onto the bed sitting on its edge his legs dangling in the air.
"Don't be nervous. My master is an excellent healer," the Nautolan offered with smile so luminous it rivaled that of Master Fisto's. So enraptured by that smile, Obi-Wan starts when an unexpected, tiny palm cups the side of his face. Immediately, the padawan's smile disappears and in its place a frown forms.
"Oh," she says softly as she closes her eyes. "You mustn't be so sad. The cold lies. You are not alone and the quiet is not forever," she whispers as she opens her eyes revealing those wondrous deep maroon orbs. Obi-Wan is speechless, his voice taken by the child's unexpected words of comfort. For several seconds the two beings silently stare into each other, her hand still resting on his bearded cheek.
"Towani," a voice calls out interrupting the momentary connection between the two disparate Jedi. The padawan snatches her hand back to her side as if suddenly the contact with Obi-Wan's skin had turned painful. The bubbliness is gone, the girl's vivacious spirit replaced by submissive posture and a cowered gaze.
"Master, forgive me," the padawan answered softly. Master Vokara sighs deeply and when she speaks her voice is gentler than Obi-Wan has ever heard it.
"It is alright, child. We will speak of this later. Return to your duties," the Master says with a carefully neutral expression that shifts to one of concern as her padawan hastily makes her exit. Once the two masters are alone Obi-Wan turns his gaze to Vokara.
"I did not know you had taken another padawan," he says his voice and manner calmer than it has been in his recent memory. Obi-Wan's words seems to snap the healer out of her reverie. Her eyes fall upon her patient as she crosses to stand before him.
"Nor had I plans to take another, but as I'm sure you can see, Towani is... special," Vokara answers with a warm smile, her lekku twitching slightly.
"Indeed," Obi-Wan answers and again it is his voice that seems to drag an unwilling master back to the present. Vokara Che's gentle expression disappears behind her typical mask of neutrality, the twinkle in her eyes replaced by a coldness of practiced discipline.
"I have read the medic's medical report, but I am eager to hear from you," she says with the detached coolness Obi-Wan remembers, and loathes, so well. Wearily, he launches into the tale of the past few days, the brief tranquility found in Towani's gaze all but forgotten under the scrutiny of Vokara's eyes and the impersonal thoroughness of her Force probes and examination. Finally the master healer steps back and coolly eyes her patient.
"The collar?" she asks vaguely. Obi-Wan raises his eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"How are you feeling?"
"Never better."
"Master Kenobi," she replies her voice and tone laced with unmistakable warning. Fairly exhausted, Obi-Wan easily relents.
"I am... as expected," he answers hoping his tormentor will be satisfied. "Healers," he sighs to himself.
"Remove your robes."
"Excuse me?" Obi-Wan starts, a noticeable heat flashing in his cheeks.
"I still have an examination to conduct. Now, remove your robes and tunic. I need to get a look at these lesions..."
Four scans, three blood samples, two biopsies, and a half-naked Jedi later, Obi-Wan is allowed to re-don his robes. He hears Vokara speak as he adjusts his under tunic.
"Your condition at this time does not require that you remain over," she begins, but she is interrupted by raised voices from down the hall. Obi-Wan pauses, he hands stilling on the clasp of his belt.
"I want to see Obi-Wan!"
"Knight Skywalker, sir, if you just,"
"I want to see him now!"
Vokara turns her attention back to a frozen Kenobi.
"I will have someone bring you something for late meal and a change of clothes," she says as she turns to leave. Driven purely by instinct, Obi-Wan jumps forward, reaching out a hand to stop the healer from leaving.
"Wait! You said I didn't have to stay," he nearly yells, a smattering of desperation leaking into his voice much to the Jedi's dismay. Vokara turns to her frantic patient.
"If it is your wish to return to your quarters you may or," the master healer pauses, a tiny smile spreading across her usually flat expression. "You may remain here for... observation. Of course that would mean absolutely no visitors during that time."
Obi-Wan feels his momentary panic fade as understanding dawns over his addled mind. He straightens his posture, relaxing a bit as he casually strokes his beard.
"Well, when you put it that way," he smiles a real smile. It is a small, but it is the first time one has graced his face in quite awhile. He nods and returns to his bed. Suddenly, the smile fades, its life all too brief.
"Anakin will not be pleased," he offers, his serious and weary tone returning. Both Jedi can still hear the commotion occurring down the hall as his former padawan relentlessly argues for admittance. Master Vokara crosses her arms over her chest, her left eyebrow raised, her twin lekku twitching like angry tentacles.
"His pleasure is not my concern. Skywalker will abide," the Twi'lek answers, then with a nod she leaves Obi-Wan in the white room. He rubs his hand over his face and releases a desolate sigh. He is finally alone and alone he is finally able to address the abject loneliness he feels, especially in the presence of others. A loneliness that grows inside his soul slowly seeking to consume him from the inside out.
1 week later...
"I never thought I'd see the day that Obi-Wan Kenobi chose to stay in the Healing Ward," a deep voice calls from the doorway. Obi-Wan pulls his attention away from the window where he was seated and looks at his visitor with a blank expression. It is not unlike the typically Jedi detachment most of his fellows wear, but this expression Mace knows, is not reflective of calm emotions, but a bleak lack of them.
"Yes, well..." Obi-Wan answers with a slight shrug of his shoulders instead of his typical wit. "How did you..."
"Get past Vokara?" Mace finishes for him. "Believe it or not, we are old friends."
"Friends?" Obi-Wan repeats, his incredulity at this revelation showing clearly in his blue-gray eyes. "Hmmm, perhaps the two of you bonded over a deep love of frowning."
Obi-Wan's attempted teasing relieves a small amount of the tension created the moment the Councilor stepped in the room. Obi-Wan didn't need to feel the Force to know that his friend was the appointed bearer of bad news. Mace's hesitation in approaching him was evidence enough. Obi-Wan rakes his fingers through his hair. He quietly steels himself for what he knows will be an unpleasant conversation.
"Let's hear it," Obi-Wan says. A flash of surprise passes over Mace's chestnut eyes, but then quickly disappears. With or without the Force, he knows Obi-Wan is ever observant.
"The Council has spoken at great length about you and your... condition."
"And?"
"And nothing," Mace concludes with a sigh. "We have no idea how to proceed. We have searched the archives and the Force, but an answer still eludes us."
"I see," is all Obi-Wan can say in response. Mace takes a few moments to study his friend. Obi-Wan looks tired. His usual boyish face is drawn in harsh shadows. Eyes that were once bright now are dim and sunken. His complexion pallid, his usually meticulous coif is lightly mussed upon his crown, a wayward strand hanging loosely over his forehead. He is not wearing his robes only a simple blue tunic and pants. Instead of his soft leather boots, his feet are bare against the cold floor. Mace's frown deepens. The Council leader is unsure whether his next words will foster hope or hurt in the man before him. He feels they will likely do both.
"Master Yoda would like to try something."
"Try?" Obi-Wan repeats with a slightly raised brow. Mace feels a slight tug at his mouth. True enough, the ancient master never tries to do anything. He either does or he does not.
"He wants to do something, but the... results are... far from predictable. The Council feels his proposal is... dangerous, but has agreed to allow it should you choose to proceed."
"What is it he wants to do?"
"Remove your collar."