Chapter 31

His return to consciousness was - unexpected. Obi-Wan still remembered how he had desperately tried to breathe and then nothing. His memories were blurred, partially distorted or even completely absent. Vaguely, he remembered familiar voices calling his name as he was caught in the maelstrom of pain.

It had sounded a lot like Dex. Nothing more than a figment of his imagination. A cruel fantasy that made him believe that someone had come for him after all.

Later, there had been other voices claiming they were doctors, that he was safe.

Arbor had become creative.

Obi-Wan shivered and pulled his arms up, surprised to find them not restrained. Still his body hurt all over and he made a noise as he shifted on his back.

„..aster..?", a voice reached his ears.

He instantly froze, swallowing hard. „Why…," he rasped quietly, balling his hands into fists so that his fingers began to painfully dig into the palm of his hand.

Why Ahsoka? Why did Arbor choose her of all illusions?

„Master!," the illusion again called and then there were small hands on his own, trying to uncurl his fingers, „You're hurting yourself!"

She sounds so real.

„Please stop," the teenager pleaded, her voice trembling, „You're safe, okay?"

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and yanked his head to the side, trying to block out the voice. „ Stop…," he choked out, tears forming in his eyes, "I give up… I'll do whatever you want… just stop."

The hands pulled back abruptly. "Obi-Wan, it's me...," she mumbled, her voice hitching, "I am not going to hurt you."

His heart was threatening to jump out of his chest. She had him at her mercy. He couldn't run away – she had made sure of that – and there was nowhere to go.

There was noise next to him and then something cool was pressed against his hand. "Here… you remember this?", Illusion-Ahsoka tried again in despair, "… you gave me this before the trial."

Trembling, he closed his fingers around the small object. He instantly recognized it.

The pendant.

Arbor couldn't have gotten a hold of that.

Right?

"Ahsoka?", he asked gingerly, reaching out with one of his hands, clumsily bumping against the railing of the bed he was laying in.

Delicate fingers again found his hand. "Force, yes…," Ahsoka cried with unhidden joy as she squeezed his hand, "It's me."

Even though he was relieved to find that he indeed was safe, he didn't have it in him to crack a smile.

A wave of pain shot through his body and he accidently squeezed Ahsoka's hand hard enough in response for her to notice.

"Do you need anything?", the words tumbled from her mouth immediately, reminding Obi-Wan of the fact that she was still so young, "I can get one of the medics…"

"It's okay, Ahsoka…," he stopped her, his voice laced with exhaustion. There was this all-familiar sensation around his body that told him that the good drugs were already running through his veins.

There wasn't a lot more the doctors could do to ease his pain- except knocking him out cold again.

But Obi-Wan did not want to go back to sleep.

Maybe all of this is gone when I wake again.

He didn't want this version of reality to end. Even if it might still be some kind of cruel illusion.

"I'm sure the medics can at least do something," Ahsoka argued and Obi-Wan knew she was pitying him.

He shook his head which hurt way more than it should. "No more medics please…," his voice sounded choked.

There were hands on his body holding him down as another cut into his stomach with a sharp knife. His throat had been too sore to scream.

"Okay, okay," Ahsoka finally conceded and gently moved his arm back so that it was laying straight on the bed, removing some tension from Obi-Wan's aching back.

"…Where are we?", he finally asked.

"Stewjon," supplied the padawan, "It was- it was the safest option for you."

Stewjon.

Images of the farm – his parents – flashed through his head, squeezing his heart painfully. When Anakin and him had dropped Shmi and her husband here he had never thought to return again.

He had wanted to leave this place behind – to finally close this still festering wound.

"Oh," was all he managed.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he licked his lips, noting how dry his throat was, "… it's just… unexpected."

"I understand…," mumbled Ashoka insecurely.

Obi-Wan would have loved to give her a hug if he would have been able to. "How about you get some rest?", he asked instead, "… you sound exhausted."

Ahsoka huffed a laugh. "You're one to talk, master."

"I didn't say I am not exhausted," he replied bitterly, making Ahsoka fall silent, "…It's just hard to sleep when you're being chased by demons."

"… You're having nightmares?"

Obi-Wan hummed. "You could say so."

"Mas… They say that it helps talking about them."

"There is not much to talk about… Sometimes I see Satine and she keeps telling me how I am at fault for her death…," he stopped shortly, "… that she hates me."

I hate myself too.

"Sometimes there is Arbor… doing her experiments… sometimes there is Anakin yelling at me that he wanted a different master."

He swallowed thickly. "Sometimes there is Qui-Gon, saying that he is disappointed with me."

Ahsoka didn't say anything but took his hand again, her fingers gently wrapping around his. His cheeks stung and only then did he realize that he was crying.

"Sorry," he forced out and tried to wipe away the tears with his free arm but miserably failed to do so as his hand landed somewhere on his chest instead.

What is wrong with me?

The padawan wordlessly produced a tissue from somewhere and quickly wiped the tears away, ignoring his embarrassment. She then repositioned his arm.

"The doctors said that you have coordination problems," she explained calmly as she did so, "They don't know yet if it is caused by brain damage and how long it might last."

Fear wormed its way into Obi-Wan's chest, constricting his breath. "…Okay."

"They are optimistic though," Ahsoka added quickly.

"I don't like when they are optimistic."

Arbor had been optimistic.

"They are trying to help you, you know?"

Do I?

"I know," he murmured, shifting again as the pain in his legs intensified.

"Master, we should really call the healers. You're getting paler by the second."

Obi-Wan was about to protest but instead only made a choked noise that made him clamp his mouth shut. "Very well," he eventually forced out.

He heard Ahsoka shuffling around, followed by a quiet beep as she pressed the call button.

Indeed the healer didn't need long to arrive. "Mister Kenobi," he greeted, "It's good to see you awake. What did you need?"

"My back and legs hurt," he admitted defeated, "… and my head as well."

"Let me see what I can do about that," the healer said quickly, not a second later tapping on something what sounded like a datapad. "Your file says it's okay to administer another dosage of painkillers. Do you want that?"

Obi-Wan only nodded weakly.

"Very well." The man began to operate a machine somewhere next to his bed and soon his pain dulled so that it finally became bearable.

"Thank you," he rasped relieved, closing his eyes momentarily.

"Of course, don't hesitate to call us if you need anything."

The medic then quickly excused himself, leaving him and Ahsoka alone again.

"The call button is on your left side – on the bed railing…," she mentioned after a moment.

Obi-Wan clumsily groped for said device and finally found it as he got his hand under control. He hated how his body was failing him.

I feel trapped.

"You think you can try to sleep now?", Ahsoka ripped him out of his thoughts.

He opened his eyes again, flicking them to the side where he suspected the teenager. "Don't let me keep you."

"That's not what I meant, master."

Obi-Wan sighed. "The answer to your question is still no."

"You don't want to or you can't?"

Knowingly he kept his mouth shut.

"Then how about we just… talk?"

Come on, give her the chance.

"What do you want to talk about?", he breathed, his voice catching in his throat.

"How about you tell me something about Stewjon? It's your home planet after all, isn't it?", Ahsoka started.

She's just curious.

"Stewjon is… kind of beautiful in its own way," he searched for words, "… my memory is hazy to be honest… I just remember it being green."

The padawan chuckled fondly. "It most definitively is… and really calm too… I like it."

"That's good to hear." Obi-Wan tried to crack a smile, but of course Ahsoka caught on.

"You don't?"

He really didn't want to talk about it, but he still did it – for her sake. "It reminds me of the farm, my parents… - and how everything ended."

"I understand…," she sounded sad now and it broke his heart, "… but that shouldn't change your memories about the time before, right?"

"No, of course not. I guess I just never processed what happened properly," he supplied.

He didn't have time to mourn.

"Back at the temple… I saw a little fox figurine. It's from your parents, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan nodded meekly. "My father used to carve a lot and my mother loved to paint. I was never good at any of these things."

"I think I saw one of your unfinished figures lying in around in the house. It didn't look that bad."

It was the first time he genuinely laughed. " Not bad isn't good either, Ahsoka."

"You're to harsh on yourself, master."

A sigh escaped his lips. "Maybe…"

He suddenly felt tired and barely stifled a yawn.

"How does sleep sound to you now?", Ahsoka asked him again, way too observant for his liking.

"Tempting," he confessed, letting his eyes drop closed.

"Then get some rest, master. You most certainly need it."

Obi-Wan only hummed, letting exhaustion pull him into blissful nothingness.

Ahsoka watched how her grandmaster fell asleep, the tension finally leaving his face. His pain had been palpable in the Force and it had hurt her – seeing him suffer like this.

Her eyes wandered over to the chrono on the wall. It was midnight.

Exhaustion began to pull her towards sleep, so she eased herself down on her own cot, pulling the blanket over her shoulders.

She barely slept two hours as a noise ripped her from her dreams.

Blinking awake Ahsoka let her eyes adjust to the dark, finally realizing what had woken her.

"Master," she blurted out, seeing the dark figure moving restlessly on the bed.

Instantly she was up on her feet and hurried over to the bed, watching how Obi-Wan's face was covered with sweat and contorted into a pained grimace.

She hesitated a second – thinking about what to do – until she finally put a hand on his shoulder, intending to wake the man.

His eyes opened with a gaps escaping his throat and he tried to sit up but the brace around his back held him back.

Obi-Wan grunted in pain as he flopped back on the bed, breath coming in short gasps. An arm found his way around his midsection.

"Master?", Ahsoka asked gingerly, her hand still settled firmly on his shoulder, "It's okay… it was just a nightmare."

"Ahs'ka?", the man slurred, pulling his head to the side.

Frowning, she put a hand against his forehead and he immediately pulled his head back, trying to escape her cold fingers.

"Force, you're burning up," Ahsoka cursed, her other hand already fiddling with the call button.

Why couldn't things just be easy for once?