The Sith holocron weighed heavily in Obi-Wan's palm, its smooth surface far warmer than it should have been in the cool room. The heat and weight of it against his skin nauseated him; the Dark Side pulsed around the holocron in a smooth rhythm. He wanted nothing more than to throw the thing into a corner and never think about it again. But at the same time….he had a duty to Anakin, to do whatever he had to in order to save him. And he had a duty to Ahsoka, to give her the hope that she so desperately needed right now.
Slowly, tentatively, he allowed his breath to settle into a meditative pattern, reaching out to the Sith holocron with a wave of the Force in the same way that he would have opened a Jedi holocron. It hummed in his palm, but nothing else happened. Frowning, he reached out again, focusing the Force more intensely on the closed holocron. It lifted into the air and began to rotate slowly, but stayed resolutely closed. Again and again he directed waves of the Force at the object; again and again they did nothing. Frustrated after numerous failed attempts, he allowed it to finally drift back down into his palm.
Staring at it again, he felt somewhat foolish. Of course a Sith holocron wouldn't open through the Light Side of the Force. He should have known that the moment he felt the thing's miasmic black aura. He'd spent so much time debating whether to access the holocron that it had never occurred to him that he might not actually know how to open the thing.
He would not use the Dark Side. There were some lines that simply could not be crossed - not for Anakin, not for anyone. The teachings of the Jedi Order were clear: once the first step was taken down a dark path, the Dark Side would consume you until there was nothing left. But there were Jedi who had figured out ways to direct the Dark Side without ever actually touching it. He'd never studied Form VII in depth, but Mace had once taught him a few of the Vaapad katas that he'd created years ago when he invented the form. Maybe….
Obi-Wan stood, testing out how it felt to put weight on his injured leg without the assistance of the crutch. It hurt, but he was able to stand without collapsing: that would have to do. He suspected Vokara Che might just kill him if she knew what he was about to try, but it wasn't the first time he'd ignored the advice of a healer, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He began to push the furniture in his small living room to the walls to create the open space he'd need for what he had in mind, movements made awkward as he tried to avoid putting weight on his bad leg. Once he'd cleared enough space to take a few steps in any direction without running into anything, he concentrated on the Sith holocron, allowing it to drift into the air in front of him. Then without warning, he ignited his lightsaber and lashed out in a brutal series of spinning Vaapad strikes. Blue light glinted off the holocron's metal exterior as the blade flashed mere centimeters away from it - a lesser Jedi would have worried about splitting their attention between keeping the holocron aloft and performing the kata without striking it, but Obi-Wan's skills were more than up to the challenge. Deep in a meditative trance, he drew on his memories of how Mace had described Vaapad - drawing on the anger and darkness of one's enemy and channeling it without letting it touch one's own inner calm. Slash down, cut up, half turn, back cut, turn back. His leg work was made clumsy by the injury, but his blade moved faster than should have been humanly possible, aided by the Force. Strike left, strike right, lunge, recover, retreat. His lightsaber snaked around the holocron in a complex dance, and his injured leg burned, but he ignored the pain. Slowly, he began to tease the Dark energy exuded by the holocron away from it, letting it flow around him as he moved. It spun about him but never touched him, moving faster and faster as he began to increase his speed beyond what he'd thought his limits were. It felt powerful flowing around him, a tantalizingly sweet high buzzing at the edge of his mind, ready to overwhelm him. He ignored the temptation, focusing again on keeping the darkness separate from himself. As he began to reach the end of the drill, he changed the routine, leaping backwards and directing all his movement into a final lunge that ended with his blade millimeters away from the floating holocron. He wavered on the landing, his injured leg threatening to give out from underneath him, but he managed to stay upright and focused. The Dark energy that he'd been channeling flowed with the movement, streaming back into the holocron. And finally, quietly, the holocron clicked open, and red light spilled across the room.
Obi-Wan switched off his blade, breathing heavily, and collapsed back onto the couch behind him, white hot daggers of pain shooting up his bad leg. Sweat dripped down his face, and the room that had felt comfortably cool only twenty minutes earlier now felt hot and sweltering. He dragged the back of his sleeve across his forehead as the holocron began to speak.
"I am the holocron of Darth Malev, former Master of the Sith Arts. What do you seek?" it asked, its voice vaguely masculine, thin, and cold. It made Obi-Wan's skin crawl to hear it, but he forced his instinctive revulsion down.
"I'm looking for information on the Sith art of Ataraxia," Obi-Wan said, forcing his ragged breathing under control so he could speak in the polite, empty tone that had earned him the moniker of The Negotiator.
"Oh? What on earth could make a Jedi-" The voice's sarcastic tone turned malicious on the word Jedi, "want with information about the Ashen Curse?"
"What does it matter what I want with it?" Obi-Wan asked, his tone still mild, noting distantly that the word "Ataraxia" must have been the Jedi term, and that the Sith term was apparently different.
"It matters, Jedi, because I say it does. I have the information here - and I don't like giving out information to Lightsiders. So tell me, why do you want to know?" the thing asked, sounding smug. "Amuse me enough, and I might give you the answers you're looking for."
"Maybe I'm looking to change my allegiances, and Ataraxia seems like the right way to do it." Obi-Wan said lightly, trying to stall for time. How the hell did one amuse a Sith holocron? A thin croaking noise emanated from the thing, and it took a moment for Obi-Wan to realize it was laughing at him.
"You chose to throw my own energy back at me rather than touch the Dark Side yourself, and you expect me to believe you're interested in the Sith arts for your own use? I can feel your disgust for me, Jedi. You'll have to try a better reason than that."
"I don't suppose you would believe that it's a purely academic interest?" Obi-Wan asked again, fighting to keep his tone light and relaxed. Again, the awful croaking noise began.
"You're beginning to try my patience, Jedi," it said after it had stopped laughing. "If you want to hear anything I have to say, I'd like the truth now."
Obi-Wan's mind spun, but rattled by the uncanny feeling of the holocon in the Force and by the growing pain in his leg, he couldn't think of another convincing pretense.
"A Jedi has been captured by the Sith and placed under the influence of Ataraxia, and I want to get him back," Obi-Wan said, trying to give as few details to the thing as possible. He had no doubt that any information given to the holocron would only be used against him later. The holocron's sick laughter began in force again.
"Oh, this is too good." The thing practically hollered. "Don't you know, Master Jedi, that saving someone from the Ashen Curse is impossible?" It paused for a moment, seeming to consider his last words. "You do know it! You did your research like a good Jedi, with Jedi source texts and Jedi holocrons, and they all told you the same thing: that your friend was gone forever. But you can't let him go, and so you've turned to me. How very….passionate of you."
"Does my answer satisfy you?" Obi-Wan asked, stalwartly refusing to engage with the holocron's barbs even as they struck close to home. "Because if you refuse to help me, I have no reason to continue this conversation."
"Oh, I'll give you the information you're looking for," the thing said, a sneer in its voice. "Well, not the information you're actually looking for - I can tell you the same thing as all your Jedi sources, that no one has ever returned from being cast under the Ashen Curse. But I contain information that your sources will not, and I'm very happy to let you run yourself ragged trying to use that information to save your lost friend. And when you fail…well, if you're open to revenge instead of salvation, I have plenty of much more realistic suggestions for you to fall back on."
Obi-Wan squared his shoulders, not even bothering to respond to the holocron's suggestion of revenge.
"What do you have to tell me?" he asked.
"To start, I can tell you how the Ashen Curse is performed…."
Obi-Wan limped from the room, barely making it to the refresher before throwing up. He'd expected the Sith Holocron's descriptions of Ataraxia to be horrifying, of course - the incidents described in the Jedi historical records were nothing short of sickening - but he had been unprepared for the sheer graphic detail that the holocron gave him on the Sith ritual. There wasn't much that could turn his stomach after years of war, but imagining Anakin going through the horrors the holocron was describing of twisted blood magic and ritualistic torture was more than he could stand. He could hear the holocon's mocking laughter follow him from the other room, but he ignored it as he did his best to clear the bile from his mouth.
"Had enough, Jedi?" The thing asked, a sneer in its tone.
Deciding he had, in fact, had enough for the moment, Obi-Wan's mouth thinned, but he asked, "What can you tell me about Ataraxia - about the Ashen Curse - after the initial ritual?"
"Once the ceremony is performed, the Sith Master has perfect and total control over the victim. Their mind is released completely to the Force; their body is available to the direction of the Sith," the holocron said, apparently deciding it too had had enough of tormenting Obi-Wan for the moment.
"How does the control work? Does the Sith issue orders to the victim for them to carry out?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to picture it. The holocron laughed.
"Nothing quite so simple. The victim is a shell - neither capable of hearing nor obeying orders from anyone, even their master. The Sith enters a meditative trance and possesses the victim - they see out of the victim's eyes, and can direct the victim's movements as if it was their own body. When the Sith isn't actively controlling them, the body will remain at rest until it is called upon again."
"Why the hell would anyone want that?" Obi-Wan asked, staring at the holocron in horror. "Itt must require enormous amounts of time and energy to maintain that kind of connection for any amount of time-"
"Power," the holocron said, matter of factly. "Ataraxia is intended to be used when the target has a stronger connection to the Force than the Sith, and the Sith doubts their own ability to directly combat the target. Ataraxia draws on the victim's own connection to the Force - the more powerful the victim, the more susceptible they are to it. When the initial ritual for the Ashen Curse is performed, the Sith creates a talisman called a focus stone that ties them to the victim. The focus stone - or stones, multiple can be made - is what allows the Sith to make the connection and control the victim."
"Why would multiple stones be made?"
"As you said, it requires time and energy to control a victim of the Ashen Curse. A Master may wish to delegate the task to his apprentice for the most part, while retaining the ability to control the victim as they need to. Thus, two stones." Obi-Wan nodded, it made sense. A physical object with a connection to the Ataraxic victim though - this wasn't something that had been mentioned in any of the Jedi texts. This was the biggest breakthrough he'd had in all his research - there were dozens of Sith methods that required the use of a physical talisman, and many of them were known to have been beaten by Jedi in the past. If he could find a connection between how this focus stone worked, and how the talismans in the other, breakable methods worked….
"Tell me more about how the focus stones work," he said, grabbing a writing implement in order to take notes.
An hour later, Obi-Wan closed the holocron, head aching. There was a sheet of flimsi covered in scribbled notes that he'd jotted down as the holocron had described the creation and use of focus stones in Ataraxia, as well as details about how their connection in the Force to the victim worked. It was all information he would have to sift through again later, but he had to set it aside for now - Ahsoka and Plo's ship was due within the hour, and he needed to get ready for their arrival. He grabbed a small travel bag, and began to pile a few days worth of clothes and other personal necessities in it. He then perused the stack of unread data pads that he had left to go through, and threw the three most promising looking ones in the bag as well. The Sith holocron and the notes he'd taken from it he carefully hid in the bottom of a drawer in his small bedroom - there was no way in the nine hells he was going to keep any kind of Darksider artifact around Ahsoka while she was healing, and he didn't want to risk her finding out about it anyway. Finishing a few final housekeeping tasks, he picked up his crutch, hefted the bag onto his shoulder, and limped out of his quarters to drop his things off at Ahsoka's rooms before he met her and Plo at the Halls of Healing.
The way to Ahsoka's quarters was familiar. Since Anakin had been knighted after the war had begun, his moving into his own rooms hadn't been an immediate priority - neither of them had spent enough time at the temple for it to have been an imminent concern. When Anakin had taken Ahsoka on as his own apprentice, it had been only logical for Anakin to keep their shared master/apprentice rooms and have Ahsoka move in, and for Obi-Wan to move into his own quarters. Reaching the door, Obi-Wan keyed in the entry code that Anakin had never bothered to change, and walked into the room. He was immediately reminded of Anakin's relatively low bar for cleaning when he saw the complete disarray the small sitting room was in - couch cushions scattered, cloaks - which he suspected belonged to both Anakin and Ahsoka - tossed haphazardly over the furniture and on the floor, clean dishes stacked precariously in a small dish rack next to the sink rather than put away in their designated cabinets.
Anakin's room was even worse - the bed was a mess of rumpled blankets and sheets, and clothes were strewn everywhere on the floor. Obi-Wan had to swallow hard over the sudden lump in his throat - he'd give anything to be able to scold Anakin over the state of his quarters, like he always had when Anakin was an apprentice. Trying to ignore the unexpected wave of emotion, he quickly collected Anakin's clothes into a small hamper in the corner of the room, and found Anakin's spare set of sheets and blankets so he could remake the bed. He was fairly confident Anakin wouldn't have been bold enough to sneak Padme this far into the Jedi Temple, but really didn't want to risk sleeping in used sheets just in case. It was no easy task with one of his arms hampered by the crutch, but eventually he managed to get the bed made, if not terribly neatly so. His comm beeped, and he sat down on the bed to answer it. It was Plo, letting him know that his and Ahsoka's ship had just docked.
"I'll head to the Halls of Healing now," Obi-Wan said, ending the call.
It was about a 30 minute walk from Ahsoka's quarters to the Halls of Healing, and by the end of it Obi-Wan was feeling every step in his bad leg. His limp worsening, he leaned more heavily into the crutch as he made his way through the entrance. It was his bad luck that the very first person he happened to pass by was Vokara Che as she emerged from tending to a patient in a private room.
"Obi-Wan? What are you doing here, your checkup isn't for another few days…" her voice trailed off as she took in his gait. "What have you done to your leg?"
"Ah, Vokara," he said, recognizing the glint in her eye and trying to head off what was inevitably coming next. "Yes, I'm just here for Ahsoka for today, but I'll be sure to see you in a few days for my checkup-"
"You, in a bed, now," Vokara Che snapped. "I don't know what the hell you've been doing to that leg, but if you don't let me look at it now, I swear-"
Obi-Wan found himself nearly shoved onto a medical bed by the small Twi'lek woman, who immediately began to run a medisensor over his leg. He could feel the anger rolling off of her in waves.
"I told you that you needed to take this injury seriously, Kenobi. I told you that it would lengthen your recovery time if you didn't keep off your Force damned kriffing leg. If you would just listen, for once in your damn life-"
"How bad is the damage?" Obi-Wan asked, realizing that any attempt of banter at this point would probably just lead to more lecturing.
"You've torn the muscles in your leg while they were still healing - it'll add two weeks to your recovery time at best."
Obi-Wan relaxed slightly - two weeks wasn't bad. That would keep his recovery time in line with what he suspected Ahsoka's would be. Relief, however, was not the reaction Vokara was looking for.
"That's not a good thing, Kenobi! If you'd landed slightly differently on that leg - and by the way, I'd like to know what the hell kind of exercise was so important that you just had to do it now - you could have been looking at permanent damage. You probably will be looking at permanent damage if you pull that kind of bantha-brained osik ever again."
Obi-Wan deflated, repentant. "I promise to be a model patient for the duration of my recovery," he said, "And I deeply apologize for disregarding your advice."
Vokara was unswayed. "We both know you'd do it again in a heartbeat, so don't bother with the apologies," she snapped at him. "What you are going to do is stay right here while I go find one of my junior healers to start a new healing on that leg."
"Vokara, I'm here for Ahsoka-"
"Who will still be here in an hour after the healing is done. Kenobi, if I come back and you aren't in that bed, I will find you, sedate you, and confine you to this bed for another week, and then it will be much longer before you can see her." With one final glare, she left him in the small curtained medical bed. Deciding his best option was mitigation at this point, Obi-Wan obediently stayed in the bed until she returned with the healer who'd been working on his leg before. Once Vokara left, the healer - Tahlo Laka, if Obi-Wan remembered correctly - turned to him.
"I'm afraid I'm going to need to ask you to remove your brace and your pants so that I can take a look at that leg," he said apologetically. Obi-Wan sighed internally, but managed a weary grin.
"Usually I'd insist on dinner first, but I suppose I can make an exception," he replied, winking at the healer. Laka laughed, and Obi-Wan began the lengthy process of unbuckling his leg brace while moving his injured leg as little as possible.
After an examination and very painful Force-healing (Laka had offered him sedatives, but Obi-Wan had refused), Obi-Wan was told he needed to stay in bed and off his leg for half an hour. Once he was finally released from Laka's care, he made his way towards Ahsoka as quickly as his still-aching leg allowed. By the time he made it to the Hall's main bacta tank section, Plo Koon was already settled into a chair next to the only occupied bacta tank. Obi-Wan couldn't help but gasp when he got close enough to the tank to take in the full extent of her injuries. She might have looked peaceful as she drifted unconscious in the tank, but her face was swollen to the point of being barely recognizable with bruises and was besides pockmarked with scabbed over cuts of varying severity. It seemed like her face, montrals, and lekku had taken the worst of it, but the rest of her body - bare aside from a band wrapped around her chest and the tank's bulky diaper-like undergarment - showed scattered bruises and abrasions.
"I've been told that most of the injuries will clear up after a night in the bacta tank," Plo's deep voice startled Obi-Wan as the Kel Dor master rose from his chair to walk up beside him. "Knowing that doesn't make it less awful now, though." Obi-Wan nodded, stricken. Logically, he knew he'd had far worse injuries than bruises and scratches healed from a night in a bacta tank, but it didn't lessen the shock of seeing Ahsoka so visibly beaten.
"How bad are her montrals?" Obi-Wan asked, staring at the raw burned flesh and dull peaks where sharp tips had previously been. Plo sighed heavily.
"Those are the worst of her injuries. She should make a full recovery, without scarring - since a Togruta's montrals grow throughout their life, they're able to heal very well. The healers are worried there might be some problems with her balance though for the time it takes her to heal, but they think she'll be back on her feet in two weeks, maybe three at most."
"That's good at least," Obi-Wan said, grateful that Anakin's attack at least wouldn't leave physical scars. "Has she woken up at all?"
"Only briefly, on board the ship. We've kept her sedated since then," Plo said.
"How was she?" Obi-Wan asked.
"About as well as she could be," Plo said, concern echoing even through his filtered voice. "From what she said before we put her back under, Anakin dueled her personally, spoke to her. She didn't give specifics on what he said, but..."
They both sat in silence for a moment, imagining the uncanny horror of hearing the Sith speak through Anakin's lips.
"How long can you stay?" Obi-Wan asked Plo, breaking the silence.
"Only a few more hours - I should have left already, if I'm being honest. The last transmission from Felucia was...worrying," Plo said. "But I couldn't bear to leave her so soon. I wish...I should be here for her. This damned war." Plo shook his head, an unusual amount of vitriol in his voice. "As soon as she's well enough she'll be sent back out into the field, the Chancellor will insist on it - from the looks of things, we'll still be on Felucia by then. She could run into Anakin again, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. She deserves better than that. We've already asked too much of her; no padawan should have to face this."
Obi-Wan stayed silent, unsure of what Plo was driving at, and even more unsure about how wise it was to voice dissent with a fellow councilor. Plo signed heavily.
"I've been told by the healers there's nothing we can do besides wait for the bacta to do its work, but I'm going to stay with her as long as I can anyway," Plo said, leaving more dangerous conversational waters behind for the moment. "I can comm you when I leave if you want to get some sleep-"
"No, I'll wait with you." Obi-Wan said. It was the least he could do, both for Ahsoka and for the clearly exhausted Kel Dor Master. There was another visitor's chair besides the one Plo was sitting in, and Obi-Wan carefully eased himself off his leg and into the chair. Looking at Ahsoka's unconscious form, he settled himself in to wait.
When Ahsoka woke up, she wasn't sure at first where she was. Shifting slightly, she realized that she was covered by the thick blankets Anakin had insisted on giving her when he'd first taken her on as an apprentice ("We're both from planets that are warmer than Coruscant, Snips, you need something to keep you warm on this damned cold planet-"), and realized she must be back in her own quarters. Hazy memories filtered through her mind, slippery and undefined - how had she gotten back here? Last thing she remembered, she'd been in the field, on Felucia…
Felucia. Anakin. The rockslide. Memory came flooding back to her in an instant, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the barrage. She could remember being on a ship, and she had some blurry memories of being in a bacta tank in the Halls of Healing, but she didn't remember coming back here - they must have moved her here while she was still unconscious. Mentally, she began to take stock of her body. Her montrals ached dully - she winced as she reached her hands to their tips and felt the heavy bandages there. It seemed like those were the worst of her injuries though - her muscles felt rubbery and weak, but nothing else hurt - both results, she knew, from her time in the bacta tank. Gingerly, she pushed herself to an upright position, carefully seeing if the movement would jar any previously unnoticed injuries. When no new pain appeared, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself to her feet. Her head spun as she stood - the result of the injuries to her montrals combined with the lack of food in her system - but her legs held her weight without buckling. Hand pressed against the wall for balance, she struggled out of her room and into the small sitting area of the apartment.
Obi-Wan was sprawled across the small couch, in one of the most undignified poses she'd ever seen him in. His head was resting on one of the couch's arm rests, his injured leg propped on the couch's opposite arm rest, while his other leg rested casually on the floor. He had a datapad propped up on his chest, supported by his left hand. His right hand tapped the pad. He started when he saw her, quickly sitting up.
"Ahsoka, I didn't hear you wake up! How do you feel?" he asked her, setting the pad down on the small table beside the couch.
"Dizzy," she admitted. Obi-Wan guided her to the couch before walking into the apartment's tiny kitchen in order to get her a cup and a pitcher of water.
"Are you hungry?" he asked. "The dining hall won't be serving dinner for another few hours, but I can make something for you now if you want."
She shook her head, and then winced as the movement made her head spin even more. "I'll be all right until the evening meal - I don't think I'm quite ready to eat yet anyway."
Obi-Wan nodded. "I never eat well after a night in the bacta tank either." They sat in silence for a moment before it occurred to Ahsoka to wonder why he was here.
"Where's Master Plo?" she asked. She didn't think he'd been injured enough to be in the Halls of Healing, but her memories from the transport ride back to Coruscant were fuzzy enough that she couldn't be sure.
"He wanted to be here, but he had to get back to the front. He left you in my care while he was gone," Obi-Wan said.
"Oh," she said, a hitch in her voice. Of course the men needed a General after what had happened with…after what had happened. She understood how the war and its politics worked. But still, she wished he'd been able to at least stay until she'd woken up.
"He was by the side of your bacta tank for as long as he was able to be," Obi-Wan said gently, reading her tone. She nodded.
"I know, Master Kenobi." Not wanting to dwell on the matter, she changed the subject. "How long do the healers think I'll be on medical leave?"
"A few weeks at most - they expect you to make a full recovery," Obi-Wan said, sounding more matter of fact. She grinned at him.
"That's not too bad - I guess it gives me time to catch up on some of my classwork," she said. Jedi Padawans traditionally took a number of classes throughout the years of their apprenticeship, but the curriculum had by necessity become much more relaxed due to the amount of time Padawans now spent on the field.
Obi-Wan grinned back at her. "I'm sure your teaching masters will be relieved to hear it," he teased, and from there they fell into the casual, bantering conversational patterns they usually followed. If Obi-Wan noticed moments that highlighted Anakin's absence - pauses where one of them instinctively waited for Anakin to follow up on a quip, jokes intended for a group of three that fell a little too flat with two - he brought no more attention to it than she did.
After the evening meal, Ahsoka sat at her small desk, determined to start inventorying the mountain of classwork that was always waiting for her every time she returned from a deployment with the 501st. She frowned when she realized that at the center of the desk, in the scant several inches of open space not covered by datapads and scraps of flimsi, there was a small data chip she didn't remember leaving there. She picked it up and inspected it - it was marked to show that it had originated at the Jedi Temple. Maybe it was a recording from one of her classes she'd forgotten to put away? Curious, she slid it into the chip reader she kept in a nearby drawer, and pressed play. The projector's light clicked on, and a small blue figure of Anakin Skywalker appeared.
"Hey Snips," it said as Ahsoka's grip on the projector went rigid, her fingers tightening unconsciously around the small disk. "I'm sure Obi-Wan's taking good care of you on your mission, but I thought of a few more Form IV variants I want you to try - these ones should be particularly good in small enclosed spaces. I'll show them to you in a few weeks when you're back on Coruscant, but I figured I'd record them for you now in case we miss each other and you get trapped in a cave by droids before I have the chance." The hologram flashed a sideways grin before stepping back from the holocam he must have been using to record the video, and the smile - so different from the sarcastic sneer she'd seen a few days before - broke the numbness that had been growing in her since Anakin's image had appeared. A sob broke from her, and then another, and tears were streaming down her face before she could stop them.
She'd left the door open, and Obi-Wan was there in an instant. Carefully, he pried the projector from her stiff fingers and shut it off, setting it gingerly on her desk. Then he wrapped an arm paternally around her, and carefully guided her out of her chair and onto the sitting room couch where he sat beside her, holding her as she cried. She wasn't sure if it was moments or hours later when her sobs slowly began to quiet into hiccups. A few deep breaths later, she finally began to settle.
"I'm sorry, Master Obi-Wan," she said. "I didn't mean to-"
"It's all right, Ahsoka," he said, arm still comfortingly around her shoulders. "Do you…do you want to talk about it? What was that recording?"
"Anakin-" she said, breaking off as her throat closed. She took a deep breath, and began again. "Anakin must have recorded it for me after I left for Takodana, and left it for me to watch when I got back. He usually makes training recordings for me when we're split up for missions, I just didn't think-" her throat closed again, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut to fight back tears. "I didn't think he would have had the chance to make one this time, before…before he was captured. I just wasn't expecting it when I opened the file. Not after…." she let her voice trail off, but Obi-Wan understood.
"After what happened on Felucia?" he finished for her. She nodded.
"I know it wasn't Anakin, not really. I know he never would have said any of the horrible things to me that he said there. But…I still heard him say it. And when he attacked me, it was still his saber, his fighting style that was trying to kill me. It's just hard to reconcile, I guess." Her eyes narrowed, and her fists clenched in her lap. "We have to stop Dooku. What he's done to Anakin, what he's forced Anakin to do…it can't be allowed to go on." She thought Obi-Wan would admonish her about the anger in her tone - but he simply squeezed her shoulder one last time and pulled away from her, reaching over to a pile of flimsi notes on the small table beside them.
"There at least, I have some good news," he said, shuffling the papers until the one he apparently was looking for was on top. "I've been researching Ataraxia while I've been on medical leave, and…I found some similarities between Ataraxia and other, less extreme methods of Sith mind control. Methods that have been broken by Jedi in the past." He paused, looking at her with a desperate hope in his eyes. "Nothing's certain yet, but I think…I think we can get him back."
Ahsoka thought she should feel something - some sense of relief or joy. But she couldn't feel anything but the emptiness that the holorecording of Anakin had carved into her. Still, she forced something resembling a smile onto her face.
"I'm glad to hear it. If there's anything I can do to help…"
"Right now, all you need to do is focus on healing," Obi-Wan said. "But I'll let you know if there's anything later on."
"Thanks, Master Obi-Wan." she said, still with that awful fake smile on her face. "Um- I think I'm going to try to get some rest now."
"Of course," Obi-Wan said. "If you need anything, just let me know." She nodded, and retreated to her room, this time making sure to close the door behind her.
As soon as the door was shut, tears began to slide silently down her cheeks again. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate Obi-Wan's efforts to try to comfort her, she really did. But deep down, she didn't think he understood. He hadn't seen Anakin in person like this, hadn't spoken to him. She didn't think it was possible to understand what it was like to hear the person you trusted the most in the world speak the words of your deepest insecurities aloud without experiencing it yourself. Nothing in her Jedi training had ever prepared her for anything like this - Anakin certainly had never trained her to defend against himself in such a way. Everything had spun so far beyond the playbook of rules she'd been taught that she felt adrift, and without anywhere to turn.
Normally, she would have tried to meditate to help ground herself back in the balance of the Force. But she remembered the shooting pain through her head that had hit her the last time she tried to meditate, and she couldn't face that right now. Instead, some perverse instinct led her to switch the holocron of Anakin back on. It picked up from when it must have stopped when Obi-Wan had turned it off.
"-can't do your usual acrobatics. These movements are smaller, more self-contained. If you focus your energy on clean, precise strikes…" it continued as she fiddled with the settings, setting it to loop the video on completion. She set it on her small nightstand and lay down in bed, turning so it was at her eye level. She stared at it with numb, empty eyes as it looped, showing Anakin again and again describing tactics followed by a display of the lightsaber forms, until a wave of exhaustion finally overcame her. She drifted into a dreamless sleep, the small blue figure beside her bed playing on ceaselessly besides her.