Eeth ran a scanner across Lok to assess his medical condition, then repeated the process through the Force. His padawan had sustained a concussion, and not a light one. There were also a lot of bruises, but fortunately no fractures.

"How exactly did these injuries happen?" he asked Lok rather brusquely while pocketing the scanner.

"I, err, ran into something," Lok said awkwardly, opening his eyes to look at Eeth.

"You ran into something," Eeth repeated in a tone of polite incredulity.

Lok groaned. "Okay, well, I used Force-enhanced running and smashed head-first into a speeder wreck," he admitted in a slightly aggravated tone of voice. "It was the only way to escape capture. Happy?"

"Not particularly, no," replied Eeth coolly, and indeed, he was not.

He unwrapped the bandage around Lok's forehead and found an impressive laceration; Lok must have hit a sharp metal edge of some kind. The bandage had been tight enough to effectively stop the bleeding; but in order to prevent scarring, the wound would have needed immediate stitching. As it was, it would still need stitching, but this would have to wait until after Flynt had been cared for.

"Who treated your wound?" Eeth asked as he wrapped a fresh piece of bandage around Lok's forehead.

"An Awaré soldier who kind of rescued me and hid me from the others," Lok replied. "I'm not exactly sure who she was but we tried to talk in Bocce and from what I understood, she saw that I was a youngling and didn't want the rebels to do bad stuff to me. She brought me to where you found me."

Eeth nodded. The situation on Mahau had escalated to a point where many, both on the government's and on the rebels' side, were uncertain about their loyalties and unhappy with their leadership's decisions. Lok had apparently been lucky enough to benefit from this.

"Just for your information," he told Lok curtly while rising from his kneeling position next to the boy's bunk, "you have a serious concussion, you obviously had no chance to give your brain the kind of rest it would have needed, and you are very lucky that your brain has not sustained any internal swelling or bleeding because without access to a professional healers' ward, that might very well have turned out fatal. Now, as from this moment, you are on strict bedrest. You will not get up under any circumstances, not even to use the toilet; Lakhri or I will assist you with that. I will perform some Force-aided healing after I have checked on Flynt, but my capacities are limited. I will probably not be able to do more than ensure that your condition does not worsen until we have reached Coruscant and the healers can look after you. Can I rely on you to stay put or do I need to chain you to your bed?"

The expression on his face was rather grim as he asked that. Eeth was as close to being angry as he had been in a long time. And Lok seemed to realise it, for he looked as if he would have preferred to hide under his bed.

"I'll stay in bed," he said in a very small voice.

Eeth's heart softened a tiny little bit at seeing his padawan looking so forlorn.

"Padawan," he said quietly, "you risked your life out there for no good reason. Just try to imagine what I felt like when Lakhri and I were under fire from all sides, trying to rescue Flynt from the Awaré stronghold in the caverns under the old city, and suddenly I sensed that something was wrong with you – with no immediate chance for me to intervene. I was afraid, padawan. Very much so."

Lok swallowed.

"I'm sorry, master," he brought out. "I … I meant to make sure you are safe. It just went terribly wrong."

Eeth shook his head. He knew he was being heartless, but he had little tolerance for attempts to shift personal responsibility to circumstances beyond one's control, and that was what Lok was doing right now.

"No, padawan," he said sternly. "It did not just 'go wrong.' You made a wrong decision. And we are going to talk about why that was and how it went wrong; I will want to hear the whole story. Not now, though. You need to rest. Close your eyes and try to sleep. I will be back with you shortly."

Eeth knew that he would have to get his feelings under control. Fear leads to anger… He had heard that throughout his life, and that was exactly what was happening here. He had been afraid for his padawan; how could he not have been when Lok had been in very real danger? However, he could not allow himself to be continue being angry with Lok. Displeased, yes. Unhappy with the decision that Lok had made, yes. Angry, no. Hopefully, there would be an opportunity to meditate and deal with his emotions soon. Right now, however, he needed to look after Flynt because he had not lied: Flynt was in a bad state.

As he reached the door to Flynt's room, he ran into Lakhri who was coming from the cockpit, looking worried.

"He is going to be alright, Lakhri," Eeth said gently. "Badly injured, but nothing the healers will not be able to fix."

Lakhri nodded, but the worried look did not disappear from his face as he knelt down next to his padawan. They had sedated Flynt who was sporting several cracked ribs, among other injuries, the pain of which would have driven him crazy. There was some internal bleeding, too. Fortunately, it was not much, but Eeth set about to stilling it as best he could. He also needed to put a splint on Flynt's leg and properly stitch the wound in his arm. Lakhri assisted him. As he was fond of pointing out, he was rubbish at healing, but he knew how to treat wounds.

"How's Lok?" Lakhri asked as they worked.

"He's god a bad concussion," Eeth replied woodenly. "It would have needed immediate treatment and rest, but of course, that did not happen. He is lucky that it did not turn out to be life-threatening. Apparently, a stray rebel soldier with a heart for children found him, treated his wound, hid him from the rebel forces and brought him to safety. All that after he had sustained his injuries by smashing into a speeder wreck at Force-enhanced speed."

Lakhri flinched. "Poor kid," he said sympathetically.

Eeth snorted. "The poor kid could have avoided all that if he had not left the ship against explicit orders," he pointed out grimly.

"Yeah, well, of course he was stupid," said Lakhri, "and impulsive and disobedient and all, but he's still a kid who got badly hurt."

Eeth was silent for a moment. Then he said: "You are right, of course. I am angrier than I ought to be. I was afraid for him."

"I know," said Lakhri gently. "You are very protective of him, and that's good. And you have every right to be unhappy with his blatant disobedience and recklessness. But save your wrath until after he's recovered, alright? Nothing he did is unforgivable."

"Of course not," said Eeth a tad impatiently. "I know that."

"I know that you know it," replied Lakhri calmly, "but does Lok?"

Eeth paused. "Maybe not," he finally conceded. "I will talk to him. Thank you, Lakhri."

"You're welcome," said Lakhri with a smile.

An hour later, Eeth made his way to Lok's room. The boy was asleep, looking pale and drawn and as if he had recently cried. Eeth's heart suddenly went out to him. He knelt next to Lok, rested a gentle hand on his head and established a Force-link. There was relatively little he could do about the concussion, not being a trained healer, but he could ease the pain a little and diminish the bruising. Lok slept through this, but there was no way he would be able to sleep through the stitching, nor should that wait much longer.

Eeth gently shook Lok's shoulder. His padawan's eyelids fluttered; he slowly stirred awake.

"Lok," said Eeth softly. "I'm sorry to have to wake you up; I need to stitch up your wound. I will give you an local anaesthetic. You will not feel much."

"Okay," said Lok sleepily. It did not escape Eeth's notice that he avoided looking at Eeth.

"Padawan," said Eeth softly. "I am not angry any more. And I should not have been in the first place. I am sorry if that caused you pain."

Lok looked at him warily, apparently unsure what to make of this.

"Well, I messed up," he said defensively. "Of course you would be angry."

Eeth shook his head. "Disapproving of your decisions is not the same thing as being angry at you for frightening me," he said. "We will talk about your decisions later, but first and foremost you need get well again. Please believe me that this is what matters most to me."

While he talked, he had started unwrapping the bandage and now pressed a hypospray against Lok's forehead. Without further ado, he started cleaning the wound and stitching it shut. Lok flinched at first, but then he tried to relax and keep still.

"Thank you, master," he whispered when Eeth was done and set to covering the wound with a fresh bandage.

Eeth nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I am just glad that you are alive," he said quietly. And it was heartfelt.

Keeping Lok in his bed throughout the trip was not as much of an ordeal as Eeth had feared since the boy slept most of the time, which was all for the best. He did not fight the use of the bedpan much either. While he refused to eat, Eeth managed to convince him to drink; in his light moments, they talked a little so that by the end of their trip, Eeth had a fairly clear idea of what had happened to him. He kept any comments he might have to himself, though, although he could not quite refrain from giving Lok dark looks upon hearing about the danger he had exposed himself to. During the long intervals in which Lok slept, he looked after Flynt, prepared the mission report and meditated a lot. By the time they reached Coruscant, he was not angry at Lok any longer, but all the more determined to put a stop to the kind of recklessness and disregard of orders that his padawan had displayed – once Lok was well enough to allow for such measures, that was.

When their ship touched down in the Temple's hangar, they were already expected by a team of healers. Flynt, who was still in a half-daze, was immediately hurried away with Lakhri following. Then it was Lok's turn; he was awake and more alert than he had been during most of the past days.

"I could walk," he offered to the Iktotchi healer who was preparing to transfer him to a hoverstretcher.

The healer just snorted. "You," he said, "are not going to take a single step before you have been given explicit permission. We can fix you up fast enough, but for that to happen, we need your brain to be rested."

Lok sighed and lay back.

"You sound as if you are feeling a little better," Eeth remarked as he walked behind the hoverstretcher.

"I am," said Lok. "I don't feel as dizzy any longer, nor as tired. Well, I slept more than enough, I guess."

"Which is good," said the healer approvingly. "Making you rest was really the best thing your master could have done. Everything else, we can take care of."

And that was what the healers did.