Plasma sparked and fizzled. The air hummed, hot against his sweat-soaked skin. Block. Feign. Strike. Parry. There was a rhythm to fighting; a beat overlaid with the vibrant song of the Force, threading its way through everything. It was in his feet; bare against the marble floor as he danced and weaved back and forth. Advance. Retreat. Advance again. It was in his hands; gripped tight around the steel of his lightsabre, burning molten heat into his palm from being ignited for so long. It was even there, in the predictable patterns and motions of the training droids, as they swirled around him, their blades flashing through the air, bright slashes of colour alongside his own. They fought, as they had been programmed to, but it was without intelligence or skill. The three droids simply tried to bludgeon him down with brute force, not using their numbers to strike an advantage. Not varying their style in response to his movements. He could have ended the fight over an hour ago, but he wasn't here to train or refine his technique. He was here simply to fight. To be active. To feel useful. To do something.

He ducked under a high sweeping cut aimed at his neck, pivoted to parry a lower blow directed at his knee. This was where Form III shone; in these tight quarter situations, enemies all around, his lightsabre creating a searing blue shield about him, impenetrable so long as he trusted in the Force to guide his hand. The room's lights suddenly brightened to a white glare, throwing him off for a millisecond - just enough time for a green blade to singe along his leg, as he was forced to jump from the fray to a clearing at the far end of the room.

"Thought I might find you hiding in one of these rooms, Obi-Wan," Pei said, wandering into the room and seemingly entirely unconcerned that her interruption had nearly gotten his leg fried.

"Cease training simulation," Obi-Wan panted, as the droids turned in unison to follow him. As one, the droids shut off their training-sabres and sedately walked towards their charging stations at the other end of the room. "Did Master Rancisis never teach you to knock, Pei?"

"No," she replied, picking up a towel from one of the benches and tossing it to him. Obi-Wan caught it by the ends of his fingertips. "He had far more valuable lessons for me. Like teaching me not to hide away while taking my frustrations out on training droids. You know, that sort of thing."

"I am not hiding," Obi-Wan said, his breathing evening out as he ran the towel over his face and neck. Now that he was out of combat and not immersed in the Force, Obi-Wan could feel the ache in his overworked body. He was going to regret training so hard tomorrow. "And trust me, I'm far more useful here than I would be otherwise."

"Really?" Pei replied, gathering together her long robe as she settled herself down on one of the window recesses. "Is that why I seem to only ever see your padawan with Emily? Because you're too busy in here being useful?"

"You must have felt how she reacted to me, Pei," Obi-Wan said, smoothing his hair back. He walked over to the window where she was sat, but didn't take a seat, instead choosing to lean against the lintel. He was worried if he sat down, he may never get back up again. "I hate to admit it, but I think Master Windu may have been correct in his objections."

"Oh?"

"Emily's filled with fear and anger - especially towards me. Everything she feels is so…loud, it's like it screams out of her." Obi-Wan could still vividly remember the wave of repulsion that had crawled through the air when he'd touched her. He'd never felt anything so visceral - especially directed towards him. "It's frankly unsettling, and much too close to the Darkside of the Force. Her possible influence on the Temple and the other Jedi here…"

Obi-Wan spotted a tremble in Pei's shoulders out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to look at her properly, she had her hand up at her face, trying to stifle her laughter.

"I'm being serious Pei," Obi-Wan said, straightening up as he crossed his arms.

"I know," she replied, running a hand along one of her faceflaps. "That's what makes it so amusing. You can be so melodramatic at times."

"I don't see how this is one of those times," he pointed out, frowning. "Fear. Anger. Hatred. They all lead to the Darkside. This is something we've been trained to be vigilant against all of our lives - even you."

Pei sucked in a breath and blew it out in a long sigh, her eyes rolling up at him as though he was being a dense padawan that she now needed to lecture. "Yes, as Jedi we must guard ourselves from such feelings, because as Jedi we hold a great amount of responsibility and power, which we may at times be called upon to exert over others. Emily is not a Jedi. She's the same as all the other hundred trillion or so people in this Galaxy, who probably experience all those same dark emotions on a near weekly basis, and don't wake up to find themselves Sith Lords in the morning."

"Yes, but they're not all running around inside our Temple, either," Obi-Wan said, pushing off from the window, to pace across the smooth gold and grey floors. "This is meant to be our refuge. Where the Jedi can recuperate and immerse themselves in the Lightside of the Force. Where we train our younglings and padawans to let go of their emotions. How can we ask them to do that, when there's someone walking around, spilling their emotions all over the place?"

"The only Jedi who seems to be having difficulty with Emily's feelings is you, Obi-Wan," Pei replied, the humour now gone from her features. "All I've heard you repeat, is a very well-rehearsed list of excuses for why you seem to have abandoned the task set to you by the Council, on to your padawan."

"I…that's not…" Obi-Wan said, stopping in his tracks as he struggled to find the words to refute her. Because it wasn't just excuses, was it? These were valid fears. It was wise to be cautious against such things. Just because he was struggling, it didn't mean he was shirking his duties as a Master - or to the Council…did it? Obi-Wan groaned, rubbing his hands across his face.

"I feel so useless, Pei," he finally admitted, shoulders slumping as if the confession had lifted a weight from him. "All my attempts to help have not been well received. Emily may not be angry at me, but she's not exactly pleased to have me around either. She only tends to respond to Anakin now; when she's even responding at all. There's been a few days where she's done nothing but lie in her bed, not moving - not even eating. Other days she seems to just walk around aimlessly - or she'll sit outside for hours at a time, on one of the exterior balconies, watching the traffic flow through the sky-lanes around the Temple. And Anakin…"

Anakin just instinctively seemed to know what to do. On the days when Emily didn't move from her bed - Anakin would sit there beside her, sometimes for the entire day. Most of the time it was in silence, but sometimes he would talk to her, voice low and soft in the stillness of the room. He'd talk about the Temple; about missions they'd been on and the planet's they'd seen. One time, Obi-Wan overheard him talking quietly about Tatooine, while Emily lay beside him, her little hand held in his. He talked about working in Wattos shop, winning the Podrace that freed him, the friends he'd made there and left behind. He talked to Emily about his mother, about the house that they had lived in, and his favourite meals that she would cook for him. He talked about how bright the stars were at night, how she would tell him stories under their sparkling glow, holding him tight against the evening chill as she smoothed down his hair with a kiss, telling him how he'd see all those stars himself one day.

Obi-Wan had listened unnoticed by the door, his heart in his throat. This was the divide between them that Obi-Wan had never been able to breach with Anakin. Leaving everything he'd known - his home, his friends…his mother. Obi-Wan had never experienced that kind of loss. Even when Qui-Gon had died, Obi-Wan still had his home and family - he still had the Jedi Order to comfort and guide him. He'd tried to be that for Anakin too, but at times, he just didn't feel enough. Now he had two people he was letting down, instead of one. Pei was right; he was hiding. Hiding from the truth of his own failures. He had to do better; for Emily - and for Anakin.

"You're right," he admitted, pulling himself from his thoughts. "I've been an idiot."

"Well naturally I'm right," Pei said, patting the seat on the bench beside her. Obi-Wan moved to sit next to her, feeling every inch the scolded padawan. "And of course you're an idiot. Like I said before - you've probably lost about six percent of your cognitive function from all the times I've seen you be punched - and you weren't all that bright a spark to start off with."

Obi-Wan laughed, slumping further. He really had messed up. He needed to set things right. "I have to go and speak with Anakin."

"Wait one moment," Pei said, tugging him back down by his sleeve as he started to rise. "Contrary to what it may seem, I didn't actually come down here to point out the obvious. I had thought that you would be interested in hearing a summary of the findings from my investigation, before I present them to the Council this afternoon."

"From your investigation into the facility we found Emily in?"

"The very one," she said, fixing the lines of her robe.

"You managed to decrypt all the files?"

"Eventually, yes."

"And?" Obi-Wan prompted. It wasn't like Pei to be shy when talking about the results of her work. "What did you find?"

"I found detailed plans for a poorly conceived and ultimately fruitless experiment to try and influence the midi-chlorian count in Emily's quickly adapting biology," Pei said. She ran a hand over the smooth dome of her head, trailing it down to scratch at her chin. "The theory, was that Emily's cells were in a receptive state, acquiring midi-chlorians - from the air, from digesting food and so on - in a way that has never been observed before in a living being. They thought that by bombarding her body with midi-chlorians, via things like blood transfusions and transcutaneous electro-neural stimulation, her cells would take on more midi-chlorians than they had initially."

"Did it work?"

"Of course not," she scoffed, her dark eyes narrowing. "The whole premise is based on an entirely scientific but utterly flawed theory, that midi-chlorians and the Force they connect us to, can be quantified and manipulated in measurable ways against their will. It was founded in a theory of action and reaction; cause and effect. They could not conceive or account for the fact that the Force is not something which can be neatly boxed up and labelled."

Pei sighed, then shook her head, turning to meet Obi-Wan's eyes. "All of those cruel and painful procedures - the heartless suffering they placed Emily under - all for nothing. Her midi-chlorian count is the same as it was when I'd first noted the changes to her cells, all those weeks ago - just under three thousand - which puts her around average for most people in the Galaxy. Not even a blip on the map of Force sensitivity."

"That doesn't explain why she feels so loud," Obi-Wan said, trying not to think about what those procedures may have looked like on Emily. He'd seen more than enough already, just witnessing the additional scars they'd left on her already scarred body.

"Even the quietest instrument in an orchestra, will sound loud when played out of tune. Maybe her body hasn't figured out how to harmonize yet."

"Well, aren't you just filled with pearls of wisdom today?" he mused, looking at his friend. It was so strange to think that they'd been crèchemates together, long ago. "You'll be vying for Master Yoda's position next."

"No thank you," Pei replied, rising onto her feet. "Spelling things out to the foolish is really rather exhausting. Master Yoda is much better suited to it than me. I'm going to stick to my lab and my devices, they're far less bothersome. But first, I'm going for my noonday meal. I missed it while trawling through the Temple trying to find you."

Obi-Wan got to his feet too, with more than one muscle protesting. He followed Pei as she started to walk towards the door. "Thank you, Pei. I really do appreciate your guidance."

"Yes well, someone has to keep you right," Pei said, stopping at the door to regard him. "Now go talk to that padawan of yours. He's a good sort - though he could do with a bit more of your temperament."

"Oh, and before I forget," she said, turning back to him. "I had been meaning to give you this to pass on to Emily."

Pei reached into her utility belt pouch, and pulled out a small white stone on a long silver chain. It hung in the air, catching the light in a little flash of blues and greens. "What is it?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Some sort of ornamentation I would imagine," she replied, observing as the stone slowly spun, the colours shifting and changing as it did. "It was around her neck when she was first brought in. Doctor Nema had to surgically remove it, as it was embedded into some of the burned tissue on her chest. The stone appears to be damaged I'm afraid. Its silica based and likely cracked due to expanding in the heat of the crash. Damaged or not though, it could be of importance to her, and I'm sure she'll be happy to have it back. It may even act as a small step in regaining her trust."

Obi-Wan stretched out his palm, the cool touch of the stone settling in the middle as the silver chain snaked down till it covered over it. "Thank you. I'll make sure she receives it."

With nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement, Pei turned away, walking down the blue-lit corridors of the training dojo. Obi-Wan regarded the little stone in his hand for a moment, before tucking it into his belt-pouch. While it was tempting to just head straight to the guestrooms in the hopes of speaking to Anakin there, Obi-Wan figured it would be common courtesy to take a shower and change his clothes beforehand. Apologies had slightly less of a positive impact when you looked a mess and smelt of sweat.

He was half way to his quarters when Anakin stumbled around the corner, running directly towards him.

"Master, I was looking for you!" he said, panting a little. Obi-Wan felt the familiar drop in his stomach that told him to brace himself.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes. Well, I think so," Anakin replied, feet twitching where he stood. "Honestly Master, I'm not sure. I had an idea, and kind of did a thing and then Emily sort of-"

Obi-Wan began to run towards the guest quarters the moment Anakin said that he'd had an idea. Usually when Anakin started his sentences with 'I had an idea', it ended in crashed ships, destroyed buildings and crumbling diplomatic relations. When he reached Emily's guest quarters, Obi-Wan opened the door, expecting to be met with a whole number of terrible things.

"What in the…?" he said, trailing off as he looked around the room. Emily had chosen these quarters herself, and they were one of the smaller, more modest guest rooms in the Temple. They had a large, comfortable bed in the middle, covered in soft bedsheets in a pale, hazy mauve. There was a desk and chair in the corner, as well as two grey couches forming a small sitting area near the windows. A fresher and changing room lay behind a door near the head of the bed.

"We were practising on translating some more of her language to Basic," Anakin said, squeezing in beside Obi-Wan in the doorway. "And well, she was getting frustrated because she couldn't describe what she was wanting to say. I thought, maybe she could draw it and it'd be something I would recognise. So, I got some artists paper from the requisitions master, and a carbon stick, and well…she hasn't stopped drawing since."

There, on the floor at the foot of the bed, sat Emily, hunched over and focused on something on the ground in front of her. Spilling out and covering the warm bronze floor all around, were sheets and sheets of white paper, covered in black scrawls. Obi-Wan stepped into the room, careful to not disturb the scattered artwork. Staring back at him from the white pages, were images of people and places, some little more than rough scratches suggesting a basic outline of features; others were shaded and detailed, faces obviously well-known and carefully rendered, a similar jut of a chin here or the suggestions of curled hair there, all showing slight similarities between them. Obi-Wan skirted past the rounded faces of children, the lined and careworn features of an older woman - her face strikingly similar to Emily's. A man with laughing eyes and a thin face. A woman, beautiful and freckled, her wide smile grinning back up at them. Mixed in were landscapes of trees and mountains and little rivers. Animals of some sort too, soft looking and unfamiliar.

"Emily," he said, as he finally came to stand in front of her. Obi-Wan bent down to pick up enough papers to allow him a space to sit, cross-legged in front of her. Emily ignored him, her hand running back and forth along what must have once been a large stack of blank paper, now thinned to a small pile. Her movements were fast and utterly precise, the muscle memory of a lifetime of practice. Her focus was like a laser, so much so that he couldn't sense anything in the air around her. Her eyes never flickered from the page, not even as he set some of the drawings around them aside.

Obi-Wan looked back to Anakin, where he was still stood in the doorway. His padawan gave a baffled shrug, "I've tried talking to her Master, but she's not said a word since she started."

"Emily," Obi-Wan said again, reaching a hand out to take hers. Emily flicked her hand out of his reach, not pausing as she continued drawing. The image of a young girl, little more than a riot of curly hair, was steadily forming across the page. Struck by inspiration, Obi-Wan reached into his belt and drew out the stone pendant. He eased his hand forward, carefully placing it down on the page. Emily scowled at his closed fist, as though she could move it with her mind. When he drew his hand back, he heard the sharp inhale as the carbon stick slid from her fingers.

Black smeared hands shook as they picked the milky stone up from the page. Emily hunched over, a fine tremble running across her shoulders as she heaved in air, and pulled it up to her face, the fine silver chain glinting as it swayed. Everything was perfectly silent as she slowly moved the stone back and forth in her hand. Obi-Wan could see the colours roll across its cracked surface. Emily gently pressed it to her lips. When she finally raised her eyes to meet Obi-Wan, they were blood shot and streaked with tears. He tensed, the Force warning him something was about to happen, and he prayed that whatever it was, it wouldn't leave a matching crescent-shaped scar on his other hand.

Instead, Emily rose up on her knees and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in. He could feel her stuttered breaths and the wet of her tears as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck. She was mumbling something, the words choaking in her throat, but Obi-Wan didn't need to hear them to know what she was saying. He could feel her, in the air all around him, pressing in warm and bittersweet. There was sadness, yes, and the deep hurt of grief - but also the soothing flutter of relief and gratitude. Obi-Wan carefully placed his arms around her shoulders, gently returning the hug, as he looked over to the doorway. Anakin was still there, watching, a wide smile on his face now. Obi-Wan returned it with a sigh. The first small step in regaining her trust - Pei had said. Now, Obi-Wan was starting to fill with the hope that she may be right.