I still don't know how to thank you all for all the lovely comments :) Here is a new chapter for now!


His heartbeat thrummed in his head. But it's no calm and even beat. It's an aggressive pounding that drowns out all the other sounds. And it makes Obi-Wan's head hurt. He shifts his hands on his head, trying to ease some of the pressure, but it was futile. The hammering remained. Only when a soft hand landed on his shoulder, he managed to break through the haze. His head snapped up, eyes trying to see what they could not.

"Obi-Wan?"

Padme. Right. He had almost forgotten that she was still here.

"Sorry," he muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair, "Were you saying something?"

A moment of silence followed and he wondered if he had just imagined her being there. But then she finally spoke again. "I…", she hesitated, "It's not that important. You don't look so good, Obi-Wan."

As if he didn't know that. Obi-Wan hated when people saw him like this. Weak. Vulnerable. The pounding in his head kept him from formulating a real answer, so he just let out a more or less audible hum.

He knew that Padme was right. He didn't feel good. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to admit that. Suddenly ice-cold fingers brushed against his forehead. Obi-Wan hissed at the sudden sensation and jerked his head back. A spike of fear shot through him, his body demanding him to jump up and get away from the obvious threat.

But for once the rational part of his mind won. He was safe. No one was hurting him. His heart pounded so fast that it almost felt like he was suffocating. Obi-Wan leaned forward, one hand pressed against his chest, the other clamped around his knee with a bone-crushing grip.

"Please don't ever do that again," he rasped.

He felt her settle down next to him on the bed. "I'm sorry. But you definitely have a fever."

That would explain, at least in part, why he felt so bad. Aside from the obvious facts. Suddenly he was freezing again, and he couldn't manage to suppress a shiver.

Beside him, Padme heaved a sigh and stood up again. "I'll go get Healer Che. She should really take a look at this."

Before Obi-Wan could stop her, she had disappeared from the room. Another tremor ran through his body. Suddenly, he felt sick. He leaned forward and squeezed his eyes shut, even though he knew it wouldn't do any good. His head was spinning. As if he were caught in a permanent free fall.

"Obi-Wan?" Again, he hadn't noticed anyone approaching him. He wanted to answer, but the nausea wouldn't allow it.

"Can you raise your head for me for a moment?"

As little as possible, he shook his head. And again, everything was spinning, turning him upside down. Even though he couldn't see it.

He vaguely heard someone kneel down in front of him and touch him gently on the arm. Obi-Wan had to suppress the impulse to flinch away.

"Are you sick?"

A short nod was all he managed before his body finally gave up. Fortunately, Master Che had been quick enough to produce a bucket and push it towards him, so that he reflexively pulled it towards him.

While his stomach was getting rid of his rather meager meal, the healer moved away from him again.

"Perhaps you had better leave now, Senator. I think Master Kenobi needs some rest."

"Of course," came Padme's gentle voice from the other corner of the room, "I'll check in tomorrow if that's okay."

He didn't deserve her, Obi-Wan thought quietly. Somewhere Padme reminded him of Satine. Loving, empathetic. His heart contracted painfully at the thought. And he brought unhappiness to these people. It felt again as if someone had stuck his head under water. He could no longer follow the conversation and so he did not notice how Padme left the room.

The smell of vomit pulled him back to reality. Someone reached for the bucket. "Are you feeling any better now?" asked Master Che, suddenly close to him again.

"Maybe a little," he choked out and let go of the bucket, only to be handed a wet cloth and a cup instead.

"You can rinse your mouth out a little if you like, the bucket is still right in front of you."

With shaky hands, he took a sip of the water, banished the stale taste from his mouth, and spit it back out, hoping to at least hit the bucket. Master Che at least said nothing, but waited patiently until he was finished.

He wiped the wet cloth over his clammy skin. It felt cold even though he knew that it probably was rather warm.

"Thank you," he said, his voice rough. The healer took the cup and the cloth from him again, apparently together with the bucket as the smell finally disappeared.

"Sorry for the mess," Obi-Wan mumbled. Vokara reappeared again after a moment, sitting down on one of the stools, its screeching sound the only indicator for him to know where she was.

"I'm a healer, Obi-Wan," she retorted softly, "I've seen worse than this. And there definitely is no need to be sorry for something you can not control."

He hummed quietly, unconvinced. Another shiver ran through his body.

Vokara apparently noticed that. "Are you cold?"

He nodded meekly. "Yes. Even though, sometimes I feel like I just took a detour to Hoth and sometimes I feel like I am walking through the deserts of Tatooine."

"I see. Come on, lay down." She somehow managed to pull the blanket from underneath him as he shifted into a lying position. Only a second later, he felt how the blanket was pulled over him. But the cold remained, having manifested in his bones.

"I need to take your temperature," the healer then said and started looking for something in the drawers until she finally found it. "Don't be alarmed, I'm going to touch your ear."

In response, something cold pressed against his ear until finally a continuous beeping sounded.

"Hmm," he heard Vokara grumble, turning his head on the pillow in her direction.

"You don't sound very delighted," he noted wearily.

"Your fever is higher than expected," she confirmed to him, "I'll have to look at your eyes again. Has the pain gotten worse?"

"No," he replied uncertainly, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable.

"Okay, that's something. Can you open your eyes as far as you can for me?"

He did as instructed, feeling a burning sensation and tears welling up in his eyes.

"Still very red, but otherwise no new abnormalities," the healer muttered to herself, even though Obi-Wan had no idea what she was doing, "Good, you can close your eyes again if you like."

He blinked a few times, but the stinging and pain remained. "So?" he queried.

"Your eyes are not to blame for your fever. I think the stress is catching up with you so slowly."

His eyes began to fall shut. He just wanted to sleep.

Maybe forever.

"Hey, you need to stay awake for a moment," Vokara breathed softly, suddenly sounding like she was very far away from him, "Let me give you something for your fever."

Obi-Wan wasn't aware if he had given a response or just continued to stare blankly ahead. It was also irrelevant as she injected him with something and the blanket was pulled a little higher afterwards.

He didn't notice when she left the room as merciful sleep swept him away.

And then he saw her again. With her blonde hair, that smile he had fallen in love with years ago. She was just standing there, her arms spread open as if she wanted to embrace him.

Obi-Wan knew this was not real. Satine was dead. And he could not see.

Still, he let himself be trapped in that illusion and stepped forward into her arms. He did not find the warmth he craved so much there. Obi-Wan could not feel her touch. His hands moved right through her. Even in his dreams he was not set free of his burden. The reminder that she was gone and he was still there remained.

Satine smiled up to him, her blue eyes shining. "You're here," she whispered. Her hand moved up as if she wanted to caress his beard, but again he could feel nothing.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out, "It should have been me."

"You can't undo what's been done, my dear."

Obi-Wan shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. "Please forgive me."

Her hand fell away again. And suddenly her face contorted, blood pooling from her mouth. Obi-Wan looked down and found the wound in her abdomen the darksaber had left behind. Again, he wore that dreadful red Mandalorian armor. Satine's hand stretched out to him and he knew he would have found her bloody handprint on his cheek if any of this would be real.

"No," he breathed frantically, trying to grasp onto her. Satine was fading right in front of him. Again.

"Please don't go," he pleaded as she vanished, but it was futile. She began to dissolve. At last, her wide eyes, which still haunted him, disappeared.

Obi-Wan was left in darkness again. He noticed only moments later that he must have woken up. His skin was even more clammy than before and his face was streaked with dried tears. The pendant around his neck clung to his skin and suddenly he felt aware of its weight more than ever. She wouldn't want him to drown himself in self-pity. But the guilt - just the conscience that her blood was on his hands - threatened to crush him.

And no one could take that away from him. No mind healer. No well-intentioned word of a friend.

For the first time in days, Obi-Wan stretched out his senses. The temple was quiet around him, except for the unfortunate souls that lay awake in the Halls of Healing – like him. He felt their pain and exhaustion. And like many times before Obi-Wan cursed the force-forsaken war.

The Force felt different. Before he had used it to support for his senses. But now he needed it to see. It was strenuous to gather all the information of his surroundings his eyes had normally supplied.

After a few minutes, Obi-Wan gave up again, the fever getting the better of him. He laid back down, staring ahead into the darkness for a moment more. This was his reality now. This darkness. The fact that he lost his family.

His eyes drifted shut and sleep took him again, but this time Obi-Wan was spared of a dream.

He was awakened hours later by unnaturally loud voices in the halls of healing. It sounded like an argument.

"... He's in no shape to worry about that!" That was Master Che. Energetic - and visibly upset.

Obi-Wan frowned and sat up, trying to listen to the conversation.

"He deserves to know," a calm voice replied, "It wouldn't be fair to keep it from him. Not after everything that's happened."

Straining, he tried to place the voice, but the wall between them didn't make it any easier.

"I have to disagree. As his healer, my patient's health must come first. And he's definitely not getting better, Plo. On the contrary, his health is deteriorating again."

Plo was here. "Don't get me wrong, Vokara," his friend tried, "but it's only a matter of time before he finds out. He shouldn't have to find out by accident."

Obi-Wan had heard enough. A little awkwardly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and let his bare feet rest for a moment on the cold floor. For a moment he threatened to feel sick again, but he suppressed the urge. Taking a deep breath, he then stood up, one arm still resting on the bed. His legs did not hold him. With a yelp he crashed painfully to his knees on the tiles. Face contorting, Obi-Wan bit his tongue. He paused briefly, listening to see if anyone had heard him. But that didn't seem to be the case as the argument continued outside the door.

Clenching his jaw, he gripped onto the bed railing beside him and heaved himself up again. With an iron grip he held onto it. His breath came in gasps, this little activity already being strenuous for him. After he was at least somewhat sure to have regained enough strength that he would not faint at the next attempt, he slowly straightened up.

Again, he swayed on his legs, but remained upright at last. "Come on," he muttered to himself, "you haven't forgotten how to walk."

Carefully, he pushed his foot forward, feeling the grout of the tiles slide under his sole. When he had more or less taken the first step, he finally let go of the railing and stretched out his arms to feel his way forward. He knew that the door to the corridor must be to his right, if his ears were not betraying him.

Slowly he moved forward, pushing his feet more or less ahead to feel where exactly he was stepping. At some point he felt the wall with his hand and let it slide along it until he came upon the door frame. At least that's what he thought. The voices were now very close.

Obi-Wan approached the door and felt for the button that was supposed to open it. When his fingers finally found the small panel, he didn't hesitate to press it. With a hiss, the door opened and immediately the conversation fell silent.

Although he could not see, he knew that two pairs of eyes were on him.

"Obi-Wan, you shouldn't be up," Vokara began immediately, back in healer mode. He heard her coming closer and only raised his hand to stop her.

"What am I not supposed to know?" he asked straight out. A moment of silence passed and for a moment Obi-Wan thought the fever was making him delusional.

"I really don't think now is the time," Master Che tried again, trying to reach for his arm, but Obi-Wan was quicker, now getting angry.

He turned in the direction he suspected Plo was standing. "I'll ask you again. What don't you want me to know?" he hissed.

"Calm down, Obi-Wan," his friend spoke up in response, "I will tell you, but maybe you should sit down for this."

Beside him, he felt Vokara fuming. "I don't believe it," she grumbled, "But fine, Plo, you're responsible now." Thereupon she turned around and moved away with clacking steps.

"Great," Plo sighed, "That went well."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "I don't know which one of you had the glorious idea to argue outside my door, but if you didn't want me to know, you would have had to pick another place to have the conversation. You two were unmistakable."

"She stopped me just before I could enter your room," Plo said apologetically, "Now come on, let's go inside, you're shaking."

Obi-Wan nodded briefly, now also realizing that the strength was leaving him again, and wanted to take a step back to make room for Plo. But his foot slipped and he lost his balance. It was his luck that Plo was close enough to grab his arm that he would not fall again today.

As the other Jedi pulled him back up, Obi-Wan rubbed his temple with his free hand, as if that might soothe his headache.

"Vokara wasn't exaggerating when she said you were sick, huh?" murmured Plo.

"It's nothing more than a cold," Obi-Wan grumbled, "The dizziness just makes me struggle more than it would otherwise."

"I see. It's just a few more steps to your bed."

This time Obi-Wan didn't protest as Plo held his arm as he led him over, not really trusting his own legs anymore.

When he finally sat down on the mattress, he raised his head even though he couldn't see Plo. "What is so important that you stood up against the rage of our healer?"

Surprisingly, the Kel'Dor sat down next to him on the bed. "There are actually several things I wanted to tell you. But first - here."

Something was pressed into his hand. Confused, Obi-Wan frowned.

"Your commlink," Plo enlightened him, "I thought you might want that back."

He stroked his fingers over the small device. "Thank you... But how am I supposed to use this? I can't read."

With his thumb, he pressed the button that activated the holoprojector that would normally now show him his messages.

"I know, but you can set the device to read the text to you," Plo replied, "I didn't want to change anything without your permission."

Obi-Wan simply held the device out to him again. "Just go ahead."

He heard Plo fiddle with the device for a moment before it was handed back to him.

"Here, now it should work. You have a missed call, by the way. From Dex."

Dex. Somehow Obi-Wan had not thought about the Besalisk at all. But of course, the man would worry about him, even though their friendship was more than strange.

He set the commlink down next to him and redirected his focus back to Plo. "Maybe I will call him back later. I guess this was not the thing you wanted to talk about with me?"

His friend chuckled before falling silent again. "No. I'm afraid not. But we are not there yet."

A clicking sound sounded as Plo apparently took something from his belt but this time Obi-Wan did not need his eyes to know what his friend was holding. He felt it.

"My lightsaber," he breathed, taking it from the others hands, "Why do you have it?"

Plo huffed. "Well, actually, Mace was going to give it back to you, along with an apology. But apparently your last conversation didn't go so well."

"And let me guess," Obi-Wan joked dryly, "He didn't have the balls to talk to me again."

"Take it any way you want," chuckled his friend, "The fact is, he should never have taken it from you. The council hasn't agreed on how yet, but there will be a penalty for that, too."

As if that would bring his eyes back. Or would have prevented Anakin from turning on him. Obi-Wan kept these thoughts to himself.

Instead, he muttered, "I hope they don't forget what the real problem is with all this."

"I know. I've talked to the men of the 501st and 212th, they want to help prove Ahsoka's innocence. The council has agreed to that. Already the first leads have been found."

Obi-Wan nodded shallowly. "That's good. How are the men doing? The situation is certainly not easy for them right now."

"Rex and Cody keep them together. Most fear the units will now be split up."

That's what he had been worried about. "We can't do that to them."

"I know that... listen, Obi-Wan," Plo paused for a moment, "I've offered to take over both units... If you should decide to retire from duty."

Obi-Wan mulled over what he had heard, letting the words sink in. "Thank you, Plo... If I'm honest, I haven't really thought about it."

"Take your time."

He sighed and slumped his shoulders. "We'll see. So, what is it now that you wanted to tell me?"

When his friend remained silent, Obi-Wan tilted his head, his eyebrows narrowing. "Plo?"

"Anakin turned himself in. They're taking him to the temple right now."


I haven't decided which POV to continue with next chapter. I am open to suggestions :D