Chapter 14. Coming and Going

The bed shifted, a transparent shadow obscuring slightly the daylight pouring from the window. Whoever it was, they were looking at him. He came to feel these stares, worried, concerned, soaked in pity and sorrow. Someone, or more likely, many someones, judging by the different voices, visited him, talked to him, sat on the chair at his bedside, on their heels, on the window sill, on his bed. They brought things, touched him, patted his shoulders, his back, his hands, his knees covered by the blanket. Sometimes he even raised his head and answered them, but the more he talked, the more he wanted to bury his head under the blanket like a child and hide away from it all. Pity was useless. He didn't want to see it. He didn't want to see at all.

It would have been easier if something was wrong with himself. That was something he could handle. He was no stranger to his own pain. It was safe - it did not concern anyone else but him, and was easy to hide. His own recovery had taken its time, but strangely, he hardly even noticed those early days when simply sitting up seemed to take up more energy than a sparring match, days in a Force collar having drained him of all his strength.

What Obi-Wan always found hard to deal with was when something happened to others. When he came around only to see Tur fading in front of his eyes, cold dread almost paralysed him, and for minutes he could do nothing more than desperately call to the dying Jedi, begging him to stay awake, or maybe begging the Force to let himself follow, because he couldn't lose Tur. He just couldn't. When Obi-Wan finally managed to get a hold on his emotions and fumble through Tur's pockets in search of the comlink, he was certain the Jedi was already gone. Obi-Wan had passed out before Qui-Gon burst into the cell, and his first question after he awoke on board of the spacecraft was about Tur. It was a wild question, one of those you know and dread the answer to and ask nonetheless, hoping for some kind of a miracle. But all miracles came with strings attached. The spacecraft was small and cramped, and from where Obi-Wan was laid on a cot he could very well hear the older Jedis' worried whispers, however quiet they tried to keep them, and see Tur's motionless form, oblivious and unresponsive to all that was happening around it.

The healers somehow knew how Obi-Wan felt, and during the first weeks he was told nothing more than that Tur was alive and needed time to recover. They did not say he had woken up but that gave Obi-Wan strength - they were only going to allow him to see Tur when he was fit to be up, and he followed every single healers' order to the letter. But when he was strong enough and finally saw Tur's body, almost as pale as the bed covers, utterly still as if frozen, save for the occasional ever so slight rise and fall of his chest, his heart sank, suddenly seized with a bitter cold. It had only been weeks, the healers said, and they would keep hoping, but… Nobody expanded on that "but". They were all as clueless as him as to what exactly was wrong with Tur, that much was clear. And as Obi-Wan came to Tur's bedside every day and saw that the healers arrived less and less often, he felt that for them, a matter of time was no longer about Tur waking up. A matter of time was when everyone realised this to be as hopeless as the healers had come to see it.

Obi-Wan stared at the blanket, its stark snowiness warmed by the sunrays to a creamy white. Let them speak. He did not have anything left in him to say.

– I've brought you something.

A pause. The one speaking apparently smiled at his lack of reaction.

– Something you would actually be pleased to see.

Obi-Wan's lukewarm fingers were pried open and a holopad gently pushed into them, but he made no move to look at it.

– Come on. It isn't anything you may think it is. It has nothing to do with the past, – a soft sigh, the timbre smooth and tentative. – I promise it won't hurt you.

Burning liquid sprang to Obi-Wan's eyes and he clutched the holopad with a force sufficient to break it, bending to stare at it, desperately trying to hide his face. That was why he dreaded sympathy like a contagious disease - it only ever made him feel worse, as if opening the floodgates and making him lose the tenuous hold he kept over whatever feelings were brewing inside him. He saw nothing through the tears blurring his vision, but as his breathing returned to normal, printed words came into focus and his head shot up, the watery blue gaze focusing at the face of the visitor.

– I am… released from the healers'? – Obi-Wan croaked hoarsely, swallowing against the dryness of his throat. – Th-thank you, Master Qui-Gon.

– There's nothing to thank me for, – the Jedi Master gave him a tiny smile.

– No. Need to thank someone… – Obi-Wan gulped, his breath hitching, – Someone who can actually hear me.

That was what he feared the most when people came to see him, this silence that always settled when the past made its presence known.

– Well, it's time for me to go, then, – he said, swinging his legs off the bed and feeling the pleasant coolness of the floor under his feet.

– You know you can stay. He… he wished me to continue training you. That's what he would have wanted. That's what I would very much like. If you want –

– No, Master Qui-Gon. We had this conversation six years ago. I don't want to be a burden.

– My offer has nothing to do with all that has happened, – the Jedi shook his head. – I have regretted my decision ever since I saw you with Rhad as his padawan. Maybe you could change your mind. Tur wouldn't have wanted you to waste –

– Please stop talking about him as if he was… was…

– Say it, Obi-Wan, – a gentle hand descended on his shoulder. – That's what the healers advised, remember. Come on, it's hard but you need to –

– Fine! – the youth shrugged off the hand and stomped to the other side of the room. – You want to hear it? As if he was dead! Dead! Are you happy now? – shouted Obi-Wan, throwing the holopad on the bed, tears flowing freely down his face.

– Obi-Wan, I understand what you're feeling –

– No, you don't! You've never been there! You have no idea! Let me go! – he struggled against the hands that caught his shoulders, carefully but firmly drawing him back to the bed and pushing him to sit down.

– No, Obi-Wan. I know exactly how it feels. No less than Tur. When Mayte was gone, he went to live on an uninhabited planet, blaming himself for everything. When Tahl's life was touch and go… my reaction was more similar to yours. Much worse, though.

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow, looking questioningly at the Jedi.

– I accused Tur of things I knew he had never done, – exhaled Qui-Gon, clenching his eyes shut for a fleeting second. – I just… lost it. And although Tur forgave me, I still can't forgive myself. That's why you can scream at me, insult me, hit me. Everything you'd like. I'm not in a position to judge you.

Obi-Wan moved away on the bed, leaning his head against the wall, breathing heavily after his outburst. Stooping, Qui-Gon picked up the holopad, setting it on the bedside table.

– If you don't want me to go… why did you bring me this?

– It was what you wanted. And besides, – a corner of the Jedi's lip curled in amusement, – you do need this to become my padawan. Don't even dream of me letting you exercise without a clean bill of health.

- I'm sorry, Master Qui-Gon. I can never become you padawan. I've already got my master, and no matter if he wakes up or not, I'm not going to train with anyone else.

Qui-Gon sighed seeing how Obi-Wan's fingers tightened, grasping at the bed covers as the teen struggled for keep his emotions in check.

- I thought I would be able to convince you otherwise, but I can promise you never to bring this up again myself, if it only makes you sad. But I really wish - we all really wish - you decide to stay.

Obi-Wan stood up, pulling on a robe over his clothes.

– And if I go?

– Obi-Wan, we're your friends. We can't keep you here against your will. Of course, we'll miss you. Of course, nobody wants you to go. Tur would be well-cared for at the Temple, healers will be working on the cure.

– No, they won't. They said it was hopeless.

– It's only been four weeks.

– Only? Enough to give up on him? Is that what all of you think?

Qui-Gon drew a deep breath, carding his fingers through his hair.

– No, what I'm saying is that the healers may have stopped looking for a way to help him. But even they don't know everything. And the Force has many ways.

– You really think so? – Obi-Wan whispered.

– It does. And its will is beyond our comprehension, – Qui-Gon patted the youth's shoulder. – As I said, we're your friends. We'll support you whatever decision you make. Listen to the Force.

Obi-Wan looked at the white light playing on the walls of the ward, his expression calm and set.

– Oh, I will listen to the Force. I'm just not sure you'll like the way I do that.

Compared to the rules the Temple had on pretty much everything else, the subject of who has the right to enjoy its premises was pretty much neglected. Probably it was simply because there was no usual need for this - apart from the crèchelings, the padawans and the masters, as well as the occasional guests, there were rarely any others who wanted to enjoy the Temple's hospitality.

Technically, Obi-Wan did belong here. He was a padawan - a training bond severed by force was clearly not going to make a difference. But Obi-Wan did not want to be a padawan. That would mean subjecting himself to the Council and its rules - and he was pretty sure he would never ever do that again. On the other hand, he really needed to stay. He needed to be around Tur, and he couldn't take him (his body, whispered his evil mind into his ear, hissing like a dying fire) anywhere else without worrying for his comfort. Here Tur was at least nominally around healers. It did not matter they had all given up. Their job was simply to keep Tur breathing. He would fight for the rest. But again, to do that without belonging to the Temple's ranks he needed to find a way. Of course, if he had asked Master Windu or Master Qui-Gon, they would have surely just extended an informal welcome, but accepting a favour meant being dependent, and Obi-Wan was done with that.

He would be a guest here. Nobody would kick him out. If they will, then let them. He would find a way. He would wait, as long as it takes. He had all the time in the world. And he would not just wait and see. The Archives were vast - there must be at least something that could help him find an answer, a key to helping Tur. They would let him in there, wouldn't they? Well, if they won't, he'll ask Bant. He could wait. That was the easiest thing, wasn't it?

And so it went on. Days flowed into weeks, weeks turned into months. Obi-Wan lost the count of time. It became a well-settled routine - visit Tur then get lost in the Archives. Every new day was a new hope - and every evening, a new disappointment when Obi-Wan realised Tur would still not wake up and the Archive catalogue searches would still come empty.

But he could wait. He only needed time. And after all, he had all the time in the world.

The sun was peeking through the gap between the half-lidded blinds, laying bright glowing stripes on the walls. Obi-Wan's eyes were stinging, a response to both dust and the long hours of reading in semi-darkness, but he merely rubbed them, ignoring the distracting sensation. He had time before the holo alerted him once again to check up on Tur, and was determined to spend it studying his master's notes. It was a stroke of luck he had discovered them at all, after having fruitlessly prowled the Temple archives for weeks in a futile search for any information that could help him. For all the vast quantities of information the archives stored, it was as if dark bonds did not exist at all. This was surprising - Rhad could not have been the one who intentionally created them - but it might have been an abomination born out of accident and successfully replicated. Obi-Wan was sure that his answer would lie here, because whatever Tur did to break off his connection with Rhad, must have also been what rebounded on him. He just needed to find out what exactly Tur did.

The notes were in complete disarray. Tur had left all of them at the place he had been staying at the time and the landlady passed them on to the Temple, so Obi-Wan figured he was seeing them pretty much in the state as they originally were. Luckily, at some point the pages took the form of a diary, which gave them at least chronological order, and Obi-Wan could follow a story of relentless fight, of hope, and love, and desperation so devastating that the last entries became difficult to follow. His luck ended there, however. The more Obi-Wan read, the clearer it became that even Tur himself did not completely understand the workings of a dark bond. Tur had studied it from experience, watching Mayte fade in front of his eyes and powerless to stop it. He recorded what he could but he did not really know how it was created and so could only report how it seemed to behave. Maybe no one else did understand it, except maybe Rhad, who took all his secrets to his grave, swallowing a poison pill when he was arrested. And it, of course, so happened that even Rhad's hideout held no trace of anything remotely useful.

Obi-Wan bent over the table again, trying to reread the last page of the diary and get at least a bit of sense out of the disjointed sentences.

"I shouldn't be able to write but I am because I have nothing else nothing left because she - no I cannot even write it that makes it real more real than her body in the next room I don't - no - I wish I could at least understand

I must focus

If only I knew what I did wrong it would still be useless like everything is useless but at least maybe I would be able to save someone else some day but I do not know

The bond should not have resisted so much. I was unprepared. Whatever I did was not nearly enough to dissolve the bond. Useless - I wonder if I write useless a million times will it be better but even that I did not know - Sith what would even be enough I wonder because even a strongest mind meld was not enough and if the Force is suggesting I did not love her enough for that to be able to dissolve the bond I should have gone with her

Maybe that is the key - maybe that is what was wrong that I am still here means it did not work - could not work - Dark is surely a life for a life

That's it

Maybe I found it too late but I think that's it

That's kriffing it - actually it - I am so close to sure I should have known before

It is a life for a life. I should have died. It does not work otherwise. My life force might have dissolved the bond. I would have died or just my mind would have died I don't know my body may have stayed behind but that doesn't matter. I guess I wanted us. I did not think I could just save her. That was my worst mistake I am going to pay forever and " -

The lines ceased abruptly as if the person could no longer go on. Obi-Wan stared blankly at the page for a good few moments, his mind having already grasped the meaning of these words on some level but his heart having trouble registering the truth he did not want to - could not - believe. This time, Tur had succeeded. He managed to do what he could not accomplish last time. He had learned from his mistakes and did something Obi-Wan never wanted him to. The only reason Obi-Wan was alive and sane right now was because someone had exchanged his own life force for his. A life for a life. It was all horrifyingly simple.

Obi-Wan knew that if he went to see Tur right now, he might still be breathing just like he had done all these months. But if the notes were true, that meant Tur had died months ago. It was just taking time for his body to catch up.

Obi-Wan pressed his knuckles against his lids so tightly that he was seeing sparkles with his eyes closed, battling the mounting frustration. The Force coiled tightly within him, precariously balancing on the side of light, because this embering fire inside was threatening to come to life and destroy everything in a flaming maelstrom for the injustice of it all. That was how everyone wished for certainty only to be unable to handle it when it was handed to him. He was helpless - absolutely useless - with all his notes and theories and waiting and futile hopes, it was over, kriffing over, just like that. Worse, it had been over all along, over when he argued with healers, over when he was sitting by Tur's bed, and everyone else realised that but just could not say it to Obi-Wan's face. He wouldn't cry. He couldn't cry, he was turning into a pitiful mess anyway and it was bloody annoying. If he couldn't do anything useful, he didn't deserve to allow himself a breakdown.

He should really stop deceiving himself. There was nothing left for him here. There was nothing more to -

Obi-Wan wiped at his eyes angrily with his sleeve and stood up with, gulping down a shuddering breath. It was over. The only thing left for him was to say his goodbyes. And even if that would hurt beyond imagination, he owed Tur at least that.

The healers' wards were eerily quiet that day - no emergencies, no hustle and bustle. But the room where Tur lay felt too still on any day - something that had always unnerved Obi-Wan with some heavy premonition.

Even Obi-Wan's steps barely registered as sounds. He sat on the floor by the bed, burying his face in the blanket, and tentatively took one of Tur's hands in his. There was a deceptive warmth of life, illogically comforting, because when he kept trying to reach out through his training bond - whatever it was that formed between them that allowed Obi-Wan to call Tur his master - but met only nothingness. It had no shape, no size, it felt like a barren expanse of land, perfectly even and perfectly empty. There was truly nothing left.

It was becoming unbearable, but for some reason Obi-Wan could not bring himself to tear away, because that would be saying goodbye, and then, it would all be truly and finally over, at least for him. He started talking to himself, an endless meaningless monologue in his head, thoughts mingling and twisting, colliding, floating.

He was sorry. He was helpless and lost - oh so lost - and he had no idea how to go on.

I guess I have to let you go. They all did long ago - but I thought I - thought that maybe if we waited long enough - then… you know, you never gave up on me, so how could I… I read your notes, you know. I just wish I could turn it back, make it so that you'd never done it - you can't leave me alone like that, I'd better have died that this - you have no idea - why did you why why… But now I know it's already over. It's just your body, right? You wouldn't even hear me or recognise me ever again… Please just sleep… Please… Go please go and - g-

Now that it came to it, it hurt too much to even think it. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, the utterly white and blank emptiness threatening to tear him apart from the inside, and he must have been clutching Tur's hand too tight because it must have hurt and Tur tried to move - what -

The slightest movement of fingers in his grasp scalded Obi-Wan like a white-hot iron and he jolted, opening his eyes and staring frantically around. Wonderful. Now he must be hallucinating. And then -

Tur's eyelids were fluttering, opening just a little, then falling again as if Tur had spent a tremendous effort attempting it. Obi-Wan stared in dumb disbelief.

- Hey, kid, - Tur's lips moved slightly, the whisper barely registrable even in the sterile silence of the room, and it seemed to Obi-Wan at first he was just imagining it. - Please tell me we aren't both dead.