Disclaimer: See chapter 1 for general disclaimer. Padawan healer Towani Nal is my OC.
Author's Note: Here's chapter 7. Sorry this one is a little late and perhaps a little shorter than usual, but writing this particular chapter was giving me fits. This posting represents the third rewrite and the only version that left its author remotely satisfied. I hope my labors have proven fruitful and that you continue to enjoy the story. I would say we are a little over half way through and things will get just a little bit worse before they get better. Remember, that light at the end of the tunnel sometimes is an oncoming train.
Thanks:
Meursault23: Don't worry I intend to continue this until its conclusion. Have no fear, I will not leave you or Obi-Wan without resolution. :)
Purplewillowtrees: I'm glad you are enjoying it!
TheGirlBetweenMindAndSoul14: Thanks! I am always aiming for Friday updates, but sometimes it isn't always possible, but you can reasonably expect weekly chapter additions.
Jedi Kay-Kenobi: Yes, it would seem that removing the collar would serve a diagnostic purpose, but I doubt it will be pleasant for any involved. As for collars on children... Plo was only pointing out the possible need to prepare Jedi for Force deprivation. Is it necessary or is it cruel, that is the question...
Please R&R!
And on to the show...
"Summoned me you did. Come I have," a gravelly voice calls out from the doorway to the small medical suite. Obi-Wan spins away from his view of Coruscant's skyway, startled by the Grand Master's seemingly sudden appearance. Obi-Wan sighs, his shoulders slumping noticeably. He is tired of being startled, tired of being surprise, tired of only being aware of the presence of others when he could see or hear them. The collar left him deficient, vulnerable and he abhorred the feeling. He resented the whole situation and he hated the Force for willing this to happen.
Obi-Wan unclenches his fists and takes a deep breath, then another... and another. It is several slow passing moments before he feels remotely calm enough to at least pretend he is control of himself before addressing his visitor. Yoda waits patiently for the younger man to compose himself before tottering into the room and comfortably installing his diminutive form on to one of the flimsiplast chairs.
"Master," Obi-Wan says giving the older Jedi a deep bow. Yoda studies him intently for a moment before closing his eyes. Obi-Wan, unable to wait patiently, quietly walks over to his medical sleeper couch and takes a seat, crossing his legs before him in a meditative pose. By the time he has made himself comfortable the large, golden eyes of the master are once again resting languidly upon him.
"Troubled you are. Very troubled."
Obi-Wan's lips thin into a flat line. That was an understatement if he ever heard one.
"Concerns you have about my proposal, do you?"
"Grave," Obi-Wan replies. "Master, when it... happens, I am unable to control my actions. I fear what I may do."
"To face one's fears is the way of the Jedi."
"I'm no Jedi," Obi-Wan says sullenly. Without warning, a gimer stick strikes a defenseless shin.
"Ow!"
"Earned that you did," Yoda nods as Obi-Wan absently rubs the offended body part.
"A vocalization of your disapproval would have been more than sufficient, Master," he responds with a glare. Yoda, impervious to such childish displays, merely shakes his head.
"Have listened you would not," Yoda intones then the small Jedi releases a touch of sorrow into the Force and a sigh into the air. He gazes upon the young man. "Not a Jedi, why think you?"
"A Jedi feels the Force. I cannot," Obi-Wan answers plainly.
"Still inside you the Force is. Temporary is the block. Know this you do."
"Do I?' Obi-Wan snaps. Immediately, his eyes widened in horror as he remembers to whom he is speaking. Quickly he drops his head as low as the bulk of the collar will allow.
"Forgive me, Master. I meant no disrespect."
"And yet disrespect you do," the ancient master replies accusingly. Obi-Wan lifts his head, his blue-gray eyes expressing a shame and hurt that his voice cannot.
"Yourself you disrespect," Yoda adds finally. Some of the sting abates in Obi-Wan's eyes, but the shameful truth of the Grand Master's statement hangs heavy in his heart. The two masters sit in something less than companionable silence for a long while; one attempting to marshal his thoughts, the other knowing the former needed time to accomplish this. Finally, a soft dulcet tone disturbs the quiet.
"What is it you propose?"
"See the effect we must so to better understand we can," Yoda answers calmly. Obi-Wan nods, but keeps his gaze firmly planted on a patch of white floor a half meter away from his bed.
"I will turn violent, Master Yoda. You must take appropriate precautions to ensure that I am not allowed to injure anyone."
"Supervised by the full Council you will be."
Obi-Wan's gaze turns to the old master in unequivocal shock.
"I do not think that wise. If things go badly,"
"Hmmph," Yoda interrupts as he bangs his gimer stick soundly on the floor. "Believe so powerful you are to defeat eleven masters, hmmm? Perhaps the Chosen One you are. Grand Master of the Order you should be, hmmm?"
A flash of crimson flares in Obi-Wan's sallow cheeks.
"No harm to you or by you will the Council allow."
"Of course, Master," Obi-Wan offers contritely. Yoda's golden orbs eye him warily for a moment, then his ears lower, his lids droop as a new comprehension dawns over the wizened master.
"Safety is not your only fear. More there is. Still disturbed you are," the green Jedi states as he points his gimer stick at Obi-Wan's chest. "What fear you?" he asks, but to this Obi-Wan cannot respond. He turns his head away unable to look upon the warm, gimlet eyes that offer the promise of a sanctuary he dare not seek, the pain all more despairing should he not find it.
"Release your fears you must."
"You know I cannot."
"Released to the Force it does not have to be. Speak your fear, name it, this too is release," the ancient one says with a pat to the younger's knee. Obi-Wan glances down at the small, gnarled claw resting on his leg. He lets his gaze drift slightly upward and settle upon the familiar visage of the small master. He swallows the large lump seeking permanent residence in his throat.
"I-I'm afraid of taking the collar off... of feeling the Force again only to... lose it once more," he says his voice dripping nearly to a whisper. "I do not think I can bear it..."
"Are you ready, Master Kenobi?" Master Plo asks serenely, his voice carrying no undercurrents of haste or worry, his Force signature its radiating its typical peaceful glow. Indeed to feel the Force in the room is to feel tranquility lined with clarity of purpose. Eleven Councilors and two master soul healers encircled the small space, their combined Force presence clarion bright even in a Temple filled with servants of light. The air itself seems to swell with a palpable serenity that warmly caresses the sentient beings found within its welcoming and familiar embrace. Every Jedi in the room can feel it, that is, every Jedi except... one.
That one feels nothing, no warmth, no welcome, and certainly no serenity. To him the room is cold, the air stifling. The thirteen robed figures that surround him are not bastions of peace, but matter without substance, placid facades masking unknown minds and uncertain motives. Still, Obi-Wan trusts them, but it is no longer the trust born of inter-connectedness; this is a blind trust wrought as much from past experience as current desperation.
"Obi-Wan?" Mace calls, his voice calm, but a trace of worry glimmers in his mahogany eyes. It is then Obi-Wan realizes that he never answered Plo's question. More than ever now he can feel the stares of his fellow Councilors, but without the Force he can feel nothing more. Nothing at all.
Obi-Wan sighs and nods his head, unable or unwilling to trust his voice not to betray him in front of his peers. For a moment, so short it is barely noticeable, Mace hesitates, but then he nods to Master Gallia who seals the room. Masters Piell and Tiin approach Obi-Wan in the center of the room. No sabers grace either Jedi's hips. None of the Council members or the healers are armed, a precaution Obi-Wan himself had demanded and to which the Council graciously conceded. Piell stands before Obi-Wan his remaining eye staring sternly up at the bearded master.
"Your hands," he orders in his heavily accented and gravelly timbre. Obi-Wan obediently extends both his hands and around his slender wrists a pair of binders is locked into place. Another precaution. Satisfied the restraints are secure, Piell looks up at Tiin with the briefest of nods. Tiin glances at Obi-Wan. He looks squarely into the blue-gray eyes before him holding the man's stare for several seconds before reaching around the man's neck.
"We are all here with you," he whispers softly, but his voice holds a determined will, a shared strength he is offering to the wounded Jedi. Obi-Wan closes his eyes.
"I am ready."
Tiin releases the collar.
He is not ready. He has been ready all his life.
If Obi-Wan had ever taken the time to ponder what it must have felt like to be born, he might have thought it felt like this. A sudden breath of air after near suffocation. A rush of blood to increasingly deadened limbs. An explosion of energy after a long period of idleness. Stars dance before his eyes, nameless and effusive joy binds to his every cell. Light blinding and pure, warmth pervasive and encompassing, and fullness, blessed fullness. He is whole again, complete. The sheer ecstasy of it brings him crashing to his knees in sublime surrender to the moment. His mouth opens with a gasp, but no words escape. The reunion is beyond words, beyond the limited confines and strictures of language. It is transcendent. It is transplendent. A few tears escape their watery blue-gray prison, salinated celebrants of the Jedi's unadulterated rapture.
It takes several moments for the Jedi to compose himself, but there is no rush, no hurried undercurrents or urgency. He is allowed to pass through his exaltations in his own time, permitted to linger in the wondrous, ephemeral abundancy that is the Force.
A genuine and profound smile drifts lazily across Obi-Wan's face and settles comfortably about his eyes and mouth.
"Thank you," he whispers, his eyes still closed. He doesn't see it, but he senses Master Tiin's nod of acknowledgement. Obi-Wan remains kneeling on the floor. Without further delay he seeks to plunge himself into a deep meditation attempting to lose himself in the warm and innumerable eddies of the Force, but just like before when he and Anakin were stranded on that empty moon meditation eludes him; the Force slipping out of his fingers like melted snow. He feels a familiar Force presence approach and settle down next to him. A hand lightly rests upon his knee.
"Let me help you," the placid and regal voice of Master Adi Gallia intones. Obi-Wan nods and together they attempt to sink themselves deep into the arms of the Force. He allows Adi to be both his guide and his anchor, yet even with the master's help, Obi-Wan is unable to rest inside the supernal currents. Both Jedi open their eyes. Adi shakes her head.
"I do not understand," she says. Obi-Wan shoots her a contemptuous glare.
"Why does that not surprise me."
Mace steps forward.
"Master Gallia, move away from him," he orders, but his voice is calm, his serene tone seeming to belie the clear undercurrent of urgency. Adi does not hesitate and slowly pulls away from her position by Obi-Wan's side. She reassumes her place within the circle of Jedi.
"So, I have the attention of the entire Council," Obi-Wan sneers as he rises to his feet. "I feel so special."
"Special you are."
Obi-Wan's gaze snaps around and lands savagely on the short Grand Master. His lips curl, his yellow blood-shot eyes narrow in unveiled rage.
"Oh now you think so! As usual the Council's alleged wisdom comes far too late!" he hisses. Yoda places both hands upon the gnarled top of his gimer stick and shakes his head.
"Speak you do with the voice of Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan you are not."
"Is that what you tell yourself? Does that make you feel better, Master?" Obi-Wan snarls stepping forward. "I assure you I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am exactly what the Jedi made me!"
"Full of darkness you are. Made this the Order did not," Yoda answers calmly, his gravelly voice echoing throughout the chamber. Obi-Wan does not respond, instead he lowers his head and closes his eyes, his hands still bound and resting heavily in front of him. The Jedi around him all tense as each can feel the stricken Councilor pull the Force into to him in powerful and sickening waves of malice. In mere moments, the Force around Kenobi sparks and ripples, dark tendrils writhing and snapping wildly in all directions. Suddenly, he unleashes the gathered power. In a mighty Force pull, Obi-Wan reaches behind Masters Gallia and Mundi ripping the reinforced durasteel door off its hinges. The twisted sheet of metal flies across the room in a deadly arc, nearly crushing the Jedi standing on the wall opposite. Obi-Wan uses the surprise to launch himself into a mighty Force leap through the now open portal, but an invisible hand stops him mid-flight. Held in place by the unseen hand of the Force, Obi-Wan searches for the manipulator, his gaze seething as his eyes light upon the diminutive master once again.
"Release me you insolent troll!" he yells, but Yoda's focus remains undisturbed, tightly drawn around the fettered man. Masters Tiin and Piell step forward grasping Obi-Wan by either arm restraining him as much by muscle as by application of Force. Yoda steps forward, his gimer stick held absently in one hand, his other outstretched as he compels the struggling captive to his knees. Plo and Mace step behind the ancient master all three directly in front of a kneeling Obi-Wan. His tiny clawed hand still extended, Yoda reaches out and places small fingers upon Obi-Wan's left temple.
"What... What do you think you're doing! Let me go! Get out of my head!" he yells, but Tiin and Piell hold him tightly in place. Obi-Wan can feel the old master's mental presence force his way into his mind, easily shattering his hastily erected shields. Once a path is cleared, Obi-Wan can feel others join in the Grand Master's search. At least five minds press into his their probes tearing at his mind like lashes from an electro-whip. The five push further in sending their probes deeper and deeper until Obi-Wan shudders, releasing a piercing scream from deep inside himself. After a sickening long moment, the minds withdraw. Obi-Wan pants heavily, his frame limply hanging between the two masters still gripping his arms. As ever a rush of agony sweeps through him always worse than the one before. Obi-Wan groans and wretches. His thoughts fall into incoherence. His senses blinded by inescapable and searing pain that radiates through his every nerve burning him from the inside out. Hands are all around him, pulling him, pushing him, pawing him. Voices carry on around his head, meaningless noise, static playing in the background of his pain. His muscles seize, his lungs spasm. Coughs, dry and raking, tear from his chest. The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth. The desperate call of oblivion dances around the edges of his vision. More hands. A pressure against his skin, smooth... cold... metal...
Obi-Wan is once again plunged into the empty dark.