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Title: Communication, Or Lack Thereof
Author: DarthDolly
Series: None
Rating: G
Archive: Ask; I'll probably say yes.
Category: General, H/C
Characters: Obi-Wan, Anakin
Timeframe: Anakin is in his late teens/early 20's.
Summary: When Obi-Wan gets sick, it becomes clear that he and Anakin need to work on their communication with each other.
Disclaimer: I'm just playing with these characters, none of them are mine.
Author's Notes: This is my first piece of fan fiction ever, of any fandom or genre. It is a “warm-up” fic written mostly as a writing exercise for practicing character descriptions, actions, dialogue, etc. So, there's not much of a plot, just some semi-mushy Obi/Ani bonding. You have been warned!
Chapter 1
“Master?” the sound of his Padawan's voice filtered into his consciousness from outside his bedroom door, jolting him out of a restless sleep. Rolling onto his back, he shut his eyes against the headache that seem to have sprung up between his temples overnight, and wished that the quiet but annoying rattling noise that seemed to be practically in his ears would stop . . .
Well, almost jolting him out of his sleep, anyway. “Master! We have a meeting with the council this morning, remember?” Anakin called loudly, a hint of impatience showing in his tone this time. Obi-Wan rolled over in bed to check his chrono, surprised to see that it was more than a half hour later than the time he usually woke.
“I'm awake, Padawan, thank you,” Obi-Wan called in reply, surprised to hear that his voice was slightly hoarse. Slowly getting out of bed, he made his way over to the closet and hurriedly began to dress, not wanting to be late.
Hopefully, the council would have an off-planet assignment for them, as they had been on Coruscant for nearly three tenday. True, Jedi weren't supposed to get restless – especially in such a short amount of time, and it wasn't as if they'd been doing nothing all this time – but that didn't stop Anakin. Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh, knowing that his impetuous padawan was just itching to get off planet and into trouble. Or 'aggressive negotiations', as Anakin preferred to call it as of late. Fastening the final tie on his sash, Obi-Wan made his way out to the common area where Anakin was waiting for him. The boy; or rather, young man, Obi-Wan reminded himself, was perched on the edge of a chair near the door, and was nearly vibrating with energy.
“There you are Master! I was beginning to think that you were going to actually sleep late!” Anakin greeted his Master with a teasing grin.
“I doubt that I could if I tried, Padawan, with all that excitement you seem to be radiating.” Privately, Obi-Wan figured he probably could have slept at least another hour though, which bothered him. He felt slightly muzzy still, as though he hadn't shaken off the last vestiges of sleep, though he knew that he should by all rights be fully rested and alert. It didn't seem worth worrying about though, so he pushed the matter to the back of his mind.
Striding over to the door, he turned to Anakin. “Come, Padawan, shall we go now?” Anakin had been right, they did need to hurry. He would have to grab something to eat later, which was fine by him. He wasn't really hungry, and was feeling vaguely queasy anyway.
“Yes, Master!” replied Anakin eagerly, springing out of the chair.
And there was that annoying rattling noise again, Obi-Wan noted as they headed out the door. This, he decided, was going to be a long day.
~*~*~*~*
To Anakin's delight, and Obi-Wan's chagrin, the council had decided to assign a mission. More specifically, a solo mission, for Anakin. It was a short, fairly straightforward mission, simply picking up and escorting a Senator from a newly-admitted Republic planet to the upcoming Senate session on Coruscant. Anakin would be gone for less than two days, if things went smoothly. Still, Anakin seemed pleased just to get a mission that involved space travel, Obi-Wan noted with a small smile as watched his apprentice's transport lift off.
Turning to leave the launch bay, Obi-Wan stumbled as he was nearly overcome by a wave of dizziness, catching himself on the wall. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and made an effort to center himself. The dizziness passed, but there was that rattling noise again. Taking another deep breath before straightening, he realized that the rattling was coming from his chest.
A long day indeed, he thought, as he set out down the corridor.
~*~*~*~*
Obi-Wan shivered as he sat, bereft of his tunic, on the edge of an examination table in the main section of the healer's wing. Since he'd noticed the rattling in his chest yesterday it had rapidly gotten worse, until he'd finally given into his body's complaints and visited the healers that morning, to the astonishment of every healer that he had encountered so far. Even worse, they seemed convinced that something must be deathly wrong with him if he had come to them willingly, so they flitted about annoyingly and kept asking him if he needed anything. What he really wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep, but it wouldn't do for Healer Tirrel to come back and find him in such a state. True, he was feeling achy and tired and downright sick, never mind that he could barely breathe, but he still hoped to escape the healer's wing with some simple medication and a recommendation to rest.
This, sadly, was not to be. Healer Tirrel, a tall, dark-skinned humanoid, reappeared from behind one of the curtained off areas and regarded Obi-Wan with a small frown.
“Well, Master Kenobi, it appears that you've caught a particularly nasty strain of Rigellian [i]Pneumocystis[/i] bacteria. Humanoids are normally vaccinated against this particular strain, but it appears that you are allergic, according to your record.” he said, looking sympathetic. “There are a number of options . . . ”
*~*~*~*
Throwing his travel pack into his room, Padawan Anakin Skywalker burst into the quarters he shared with his Master. Somewhat tired after dealing with an irate, nervous senator all day, he was glad to be finished with the short yet boring mission. Getting off planet always seemed like a great idea when he was bored in the Temple, Anakin noted wryly, but missions often weren't much better. He gracelessly dropped onto the sofa in the common area, noticing a split second too late the flashing light on the com unit that indicated that there was a message. Groaning softly at the prospect of getting up, he hauled himself off of the sofa and plopped into the chair by the com unit.
Skywalker: one new message
The screen displayed, and Anakin hit the play button, curious. He hardly ever got any messages that were only for him; they were usually either for Master Obi-Wan or for the both of them.
Anakin scanned the message with a growing sense of disbelief, which was rapidly turning to panic. Why would his master be in the healer's wing? Obi-Wan hated visiting the healer's, and if he was staying there he must be seriously ill, too ill to convalesce in their own quarters. His earlier thoughts of an afternoon of relaxation abandoned, Anakin bolted out of their quarters and took off for the healer's wing as fast as he could without making a spectacle of himself.
Finally nearing his destination, Anakin flew around the corner and nearly skidded to a halt in front of the healer's wing, taking a moment to slow himself down before he entered so as not to annoy the healers. That, he'd learned, was never a good idea. Walking up to the main desk with barely concealed anxiety, he felt his panic turn to fear as he quietly approached the main desk.
“I'm here about Master Kenobi, is he alright? Can I see him? I'm his Padawan, Anakin Skywalker,” he said in a rush, only to be met with a gentle smile from the young healer at the desk.
“One moment please, Padawan Skywalker, I'll call Healer Tirrel in for you,” she replied, fingers dancing nimbly over her com unit as she sent her message.
“Why don't you have a seat while you wait?” she suggested, directing the agitated padawan to a row of chairs.
Doubting that he could refrain from pacing, Anakin planted himself in one of the hard molded chairs and waited. And worried. His Master never got sick; in all his years as Obi-Wan's padawan, Anakin could count on one hand the number of times that his Master had fallen ill. And how could he have seriously injured himself at the Temple? Obi-Wan wasn't prone to accidents . . .
“Padawan Skywalker?” came the low tones of Healer Tirrel, snapping Anakin out of his thoughts. “Come with me.” he said simply, beckoning Anakin to follow him down a corridor and into a curtained off waiting area.
Chapter 2
“Is my Master all right? What's wrong with him? Where is he, can I see him?” Anakin burst out, unable to contain his worry for his Master any longer. Healer Tirrel looked mildly surprised by his outburst, though went on to answer him anyway.
“Master Kenobi isn't all right, but he will be, Padawan Skywalker. He has caught a rather nasty strain of Pneumocystis bacteria, though with rest, care, and proper medication, I assure you he will recover completely. ” Hearing this, Anakin felt the tension drain out of his body as he sagged back against the wall.
“That's good to hear, thank you for taking care of him,” Anakin replied, voice shaky with relief. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Is he in any danger now? If not, I'll take him home – to our quarters, I mean – now.”
“That's quite alright, Padawan Skywalker, we will see to his care,” Healer Tirrel replied, raising an eyebrow. “Would you like to see him now?” he inquired, heading towards a door to the back of the curtained area. “I believe he is sleeping at the moment, though I don't think your presence will disturb his rest.”
“Yes, please.” Anakin responded quietly. “When will he be well enough to leave the healer's wing?”
“As soon as he is physically able to, and no longer requires our care.” the Healer replied. “He should be mostly self sufficient within four or five days,” he added, after a pause.
Nodding, though somewhat confused by the roundabout reply, Anakin followed Healer Tirrel back into one of the main wards, bracing himself for what he thought would be the sure sight of his Master hooked up to an array of tubes and machines.
Turning a corner behind the corner, Anakin quickened his pace as he caught sight of his Master. He appeared to be deeply asleep, and was frighteningly pale except for the unhealthy flush of his cheeks. With each breath, Anakin could hear something rattle deep within his chest. He reached out to Obi-Wan, gently stroking the master's limp hand with his own larger one.
“Hello, Master, I came to see you as soon as I got the message,” he said softly, though he could tell that the other man would not wake. Reaching out with the Force through their training bond, Anakin sensed his Master's exhaustion and the disease that was weakening his body, though was relieved to confirm that his Master's life force was indeed strong.
To Anakin's surprise, there did not appear to be any medical equipment attached to Obi-Wan. Why, then, should he have to stay in the healer's wing for so long? Surely, if Obi-Wan was not that ill, he shouldn't have to stay here. He didn't like it here any more than Anakin did.
Anakin has always disliked the healer's wing, with the subtle shroud of weakness and sickness about it. Being around people who were sick always made him nervous, so he generally tried to avoid them. He didn't know why, though a tiny part of his consciousness admitted that it bothered him to be so helpless. But this was Obi-Wan – and what kind of Padawan would avoid his sick Master?
Following after Healer Tirrel deeper into the healer's wing and into a small supply room, he asked,
“Is there any reason that he can't recover in our quarters? I'm sure he would be more comfortable.”
“Perhaps so, Padawan Skywalker, but even though there is no worry of transmitting the disease to others, your Master will need someone to look after him while he is ill. So I am afraid he will have to remain here,” the tall Healer frowned as he dug through a supply box.
“Do you think I'm not capable of such a simple task as looking after someone who is sick?” Anakin replied huffily, “I am a Senior Padawan, not a child.”
“Of course, Padawan Skywalker, that is not what I meant to imply,” soothed Healer Tirrell, “There is no need to take offense. It is just that Master Kenobi indicated that he would not have sufficient home care available, so we found it necessary to admit him, despite his protests. If you will be there to care for him, however, there should be no problem with him returning to your quarters.” Finding the desired medical utensil – a large, multi-faceted metal thing that made Anakin grimace – the Healer turned and left the supply room, with Anakin at his heels.
“What do you mean, no one to look after him? He knew I was scheduled to return today,” Anakin said indignantly. Quieting his voice at the pointed look Healer Tirrel shot him as they passed through Obi-Wan's medical suite to the reception area, he continued, calming himself, “Please let me know what he will need, and I will check him out and take him to our quarters right away,” he said firmly.
“Very well, Padawan Skywalker,” replied the healer. “One moment, while I retrieve the proper medications.” A few minutes later he reappeared, and handed Anakin a small bag.
“Give him the hypospray and two tablets twice a day, before bed and in the morning. Tea and an oral anesthetic should be helpful as well. Try to make sure he eats enough and stays hydrated, though he won't have much of an appetite so I wouldn't press him too much,” he said knowingly, “And keep him quiet and in bed. That shouldn't be difficult though, since he will probably sleep most of the time anyway.”
Processing the information, Anakin gave a nod and replied, “I've got it. Is there anything else?”
“If his fever gets too high, or if his breathing becomes overly difficult, bring him in or call right away. Otherwise, just make sure he keeps warm and rests,” the healer added.
“I'll take good care of him, Healer Tirrel. I'd like to pick up a few things before I bring him back to our quarters though, will that be alright?”
As Healer Tirrel inclined his head in assent, Anakin bowed and turned to leave the healer's wing.
Chapter 3
There was a hand on his shoulder.
“Master?” came a soft voice, prodding him into wakefulness. But he was so tired, and waking up would require that he move. Hopefully, the voice would leave him alone if he ignored it . . .
“Master, Obi-Wan? You need to get up now,” came the voice again, a note of pleading in it this time. Anakin. Why did waking like this seem so familiar? “
“Please?”
At this final urging, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, groaning softly as the bright light hit his eyes. Turning his head to the side, he saw the anxious face of his Padawan.
“Hello, Anakin,” Obi-Wan greeted him, his voice little more than a wisp. “Come to say hello to your old Master?” he said with a small smile, in an attempt to alleviate his Padawan's apparent anxiousness, bewildering as it was.
“Not exactly, Master,” Anakin replied, looking only somewhat reassured. “When I received your message, I came to see you, but the healer said I could take you back to our quarters now. I know how you dislike the healer's wing, so if you're ready we can go now . . .” he trailed off, uncertain. Obi-Wan had specifically told the healer's that there was no one to take care of him; so perhaps he didn't feel that Anakin could?
Obi-Wan blinked in surprise, and sat up. Or at least he tried to sit up, finding that his Padawan's strong hand on his back was the only thing that kept him from falling back to the pillows. Another surprise. When had Anakin moved to sit on the bed? Obi-Wan was dismayed to find himself so unaware of his surroundings.
“Master? Shall we leave now?” Anakin tried again in quiet tones.
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, Obi-Wan replied, “Padawan, I will be quite alright here, really. There is no need for you to deal with this,” he said, gesturing as if to indicate himself.
“Master,” Anakin started, switching tactics, “do you like staying in the healer's wing?”
“Well, no, Padawan, of course I don't. Bu --”
Anakin cut him off before he could finish his sentence, and closed the trap. “Well, that's settled then. No reason to stay, after all. Healer Tirrel's given me your medication and instructions already, so we can go now.” Standing up, Anakin offered his arm to Obi-Wan.
Hesitating slightly, Obi-Wan swung his legs over the side of the bed and gave a soft sigh, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. When it passed, he stood up, swaying slightly as he accepted the proffered arm. Anakin eyed him worriedly, realizing how badly his master must be feeling to accept help so easily.
“Anakin?” Obi-Wan prodded gently, “Are you alright with this?”
“Yes, Master,” he replied, looking down to meet the other man's eyes, not questioning what Obi-Wan meant. “Shall we?” he gestured to the exit.
Obi-Wan gave a small smile and inclined his head slightly, and they headed out of the healer's wing.
Before they were even halfway back to their quarters, Obi-Wan's head was swimming and his chest ached. Drawing a deep breath to stave off the dizziness, he soon realized this to be a mistake as he broke into a fit of coughing. Recovering himself and realizing that he had stopped walking, he looked up to see Anakin hovering at his side with a look of concern.
“Master, are you alright?” Anakin began hesitantly.
“I'm fine, Anakin, thank you,” he replied, continuing down the corridor's. He didn't make it far, though, before he was overcome by a wave of dizziness and fell into darkness.
“Master!” Anakin cried, catching Obi-Wan and scooping him up against his chest like a child. “Poor Master,” he murmured, quickening his strides as he carried the limp form of his Master to their quarters. As he reached the door, Anakin put him down and held him upright against his chest with one arm as he palmed the door open with his other hand.
Swinging Obi-Wan back up into his arms, he headed straight for the larger bedroom and waved the bedcovers aside with the Force. Gently, he laid Obi-Wan down on the bed and pulled the covers up, tucking them around him firmly. Noticing a folded blanked on the shelf as he turned to leave, Anakin hesitated for a moment and then grabbed it, spreading it out on top of the still form in the bed and smoothing the edges. Anakin didn't have much experience with people who were sick, but surely, warmer must be better. Satisfied, he turned and made his way to the kitchen.
Chapter 4
Obi-Wan came awake slowly, not quite sure what had woken him. Feeling quite tired, he wanted to go back to sleep, but it was too late for that. The tickle he felt in his throat quickly developed into a coughing fit, which lasted for several moments before he fell back against the pillows, exhausted.
Pillows. He was in a bed. His bed, though he didn't recall getting here. Remembering leaving the healer's wing with his padawan, he groaned softly in embarrassment as he realized that Anakin must have carried him the rest of the way to their quarters and put him in bed. Shoving off the too-warm blankets, he sat up with effort and slowly got out of bed.
Shivering as the cool air of the room hit him, he shakily made his way across the room and paused at the door to the balcony. It was evening, he noted with a glance out the window, and it would be delightfully cool outside. Feeling uncomfortably warm, Obi-Wan stepped out onto the balcony and closed his eyes, enjoying the touch of the chill wind against his heated skin.
~*~*~*~*
Anakin shut the cabinet after he removed the canister of tea, and placed a measured amount in a mug. Leaning against the counter, he waited for the water to boil. Anakin didn't much care for tea, though he had sensed that Obi-Wan was coming awake and thought to make some for him.
Fidgeting, Anakin resisted the urge to speed up the process with a touch of Force energy, knowing that his Master would disapprove. Now Anakin remembered why he didn't drink tea. After what seemed like eternity, the water finally boiled, and Anakin quickly poured some into the waiting mug, grabbed it, and headed back to the bedroom.
Sliding open the door, he nearly dropped the mug in surprise at the sight of the empty bed. He looked around the room franticly, but saw no sign of Obi-Wan. It hadn't even been half a day, and he had already lost his patient.
Moving to leave the room, figuring that Obi-Wan may have gone to the 'fresher, he shivered as a cool breeze wafted by. Breeze? Looking toward the balcony, he saw that the door was slightly ajar and went over to close it, only to be met with a most unexpected sight that sent a jolt through his spine. Obi-Wan stood near the edge of the balcony, leaning on the guard rail as the wind made his light bedclothes dance around his lean frame.
Crossing the balcony in two long strides after putting the tea down, Anakin came up behind Obi-Wan and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Master, its cold out here,” he said simply. “Will you come in?” He didn't bother mentioning that Obi-Wan shouldn't be out in the cold in his condition, knowing that it would only irritate the stubborn man.
Turning his flushed, slightly glazed gaze to his padawan, Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly, and allowed Anakin to lead him back into the bedroom. Sitting him down on the bed, Anakin had him lying down and tucked into bed before Obi-Wan could even tell him that he didn't want to go back to bed. True, he was tired, but he had been sleeping for most of the day, so he really should get up.
“Anakin?” Obi-Wan rasped, struggling to sit up under the mound of covers, “I think I've been--” he began, only to be cut off as Anakin lifted his upper body and shoved a couple of large, fluffy pillows behind him to prop him up.
“That should help you breathe better, Master,” Anakin told him as he spread another blanket over the bed.
“Anakin--” Obi-Wan started again, intending to let Anakin know that he wanted to stay up.
“Oh! And I almost forgot,” Anakin continued, picking up the tea from the night stand and pressing it into Obi-Wan's cold hands as he seated himself on the side of the bed, “I made you some tea.”
Looking down at the mug, Obi-Wan sighed softly, overwhelmed and thoroughly bewildered by his padawan's behavior. He really would've preferred to be left alone with his illness, but how could he tell Anakin that? Not feeling up to an argument, he leaned back against the pillows wearily.
“Thank you, Anakin,” he replied resignedly. “May I ask the time?”
“It's nearly twenty hundred hours, Master. You've been . . . sleeping since this afternoon.” he replied, looking down as he fiddled with the bedcovers.
“Yes, I suppose I was more worn out than I'd thought. Thank you for bringing me back to our quarters,” he said gently, capturing Anakin's eyes with his own tired gaze.
“It's no problem, Master,” he responded warmly, reassured. “It's a bit past meal time, though I made some soup for you. Now that you're awake I'll bring you some.” Rising, Anakin turned though was stopped by Obi-Wan's soft protest.
“That's very considerate of you, Padawan, thank you, but I'm really not hungry now.” Obi-Wan felt bad for turning down his padawan's soup – Anakin hardly ever cooked – but the thought of food was very unappealing.
“Oh. Alright, Master, if you're sure,” he replied, sounding somewhat disapproving.
Although he could tell that Obi-Wan didn't want to stay in bed, he could also see that he was fading fast. “Just stay awake for a little while longer, I need to go get your medicine before bed.” Rescuing the mug of tea from Obi-Wan's lax hands, he left the room in a flurry of robes.
The last time Obi-Wan had actually wanted to fall asleep, he had found it quite difficult, which made it all the more frustrating that it was so difficult to stay awake now that he wanted to. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the pillow to wait for Anakin to return. Blinking, he came awake at the light touch of his Padawan's hand on his arm.
“Here, Master, sorry to wake you,” he said, handing Obi-Wan the cooling tea and two small pills. Obi-Wan obliged and swallowed them, handing back the mug as Anakin administered the hypospray.
“Good night, Master,” Anakin called softly as he left, though Obi-Wan was already asleep.
Chapter 5
For the third morning in a row, Obi-Wan found himself waking up late. According to the chrono, it was nearly half past eight, indicating that he had been sleeping for more than twelve hours. At least this time, though, he didn't have anywhere that he needed to go.
Coughing into his hand, he slowly got out of bed and was pleased to find that he was relatively steady on his feet. Grabbing a fresh change of clothes from the closet, he made his way to the 'fresher for a shower. He then shed his sleep clothes and dropped them in the hamper. Stepping into the shower, he rattled a contented sigh as the steam from the hot water loosened the congestion in his chest.
Now that he was feeling a bit clearer headed this morning, he could try and make some sense of what had happened yesterday. He had been truthful when he had told the healers that there was no one to look after him when he was sick; or at least, he thought that he had been truthful.
Anakin had seemed vaguely uncomfortable around sick people, Obi-Wan had noticed lately. Though Anakin seemed to think that he concealed his discomfort, it had not escaped Obi-Wan's watchful eye. This was not an appropriate feeling for a Jedi, and it was something that he had been meaning to talk to Anakin about and help him work through. He had not gotten around to it yet though, and having Anakin deal with him while he was ill had not seemed like a good way to go about doing it.
Yet Anakin had not only visited him in the healer's wing but had taken him back to their quarters; and if last night was any indication, he clearly intended to take care of him while he was ill as well. All in all, Obi-Wan was stumped by his Padawan's behavior, but he couldn't summon the mental energy to ponder it as his train of thought was interrupted by a bought of harsh coughs that left him panting. He would have to deal with it later.
Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower gingerly, dried, and pulled on the clean white pants and tunic. Feeling refreshed from the shower yet tired from the effort, he shuffled into kitchen and poured himself a small glass of fruit juice. He would have liked tea instead, but he really didn't feel like waiting around for the water to boil, and he figured that juice was a more nutritious breakfast anyway. He finished the juice and put the glass it in the washer unit, and then went back to the living room and collapsed onto the sofa.
The warmth and stimulation from the shower had worn off, leaving Obi-Wan tired and chilled in his light-weight clothing. Tucking his feet under him, he curled up on the sofa and coughed. He eyed a data pad on the end table and grabbed it, determined to get some work done while his Padawan was absent.
~*~*~*~*
A quick look at his chrono confirmed it: Anakin was running late. His morning so far had been quite busy, and he had left his quarters early to get a head start. First he had picked up his reading assignments at the Temple archives, stopping at requisitions on the way to grab some staple foodstuffs.
Now, he was waiting in the healer's wing, which was unusually crowded at the moment. Apparently, a field trip for the Initiates had met with some sort of mud-dwelling insect colony, resulting in the current mass of dirty, itchy, and cranky seven-to-nine year olds. Anakin shuddered, vowing never, ever to volunteer for field trip duty.
Last night he'd noticed that the healer had forgotten to give him an oral anesthetic with Obi-Wan's medicines, so he'd come down to the healer's wing to get it. He hadn't been waiting long, but the young Initiates were grating on his nerves with their constant noise and motion.
Finally, to his relief, an apprentice healer waved him over. Recognizing her from the day before, he told her what he had come for and she swiftly obliged. He thanked her and hurried out of the healer's wing and back to his quarters.
Chapter 6
Palming open the door, Anakin was met with the sight of his Master curled up on the end of the sofa, poring over a data pad as he coughed into his sleeve.
“Good Morning, Master,” Anakin greeted as he deposited his packages on the kitchen counter.
“Good morning to you as well, Padawan,” Obi-Wan looked up with a smile.
Grabbing a thick blanket from the closet, Anakin spread it out over Obi-Wan and asked, “Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes, Padawan, thank you.” came the reply, a hint of warning in his voice.
Heading over to the kitchen to get Obi-Wan's medicine and some water, Anakin pulled open the washer unit on the way out and saw only a small glass. Frowning, he went back into the common area and resolved to see that Obi-Wan ate properly later.
“And what have you been up to this morning?” Obi-Wan inquired, curious. Anakin didn't have class until later in the day, he knew.
“Oh, just a few errands, Master,” he said dismissively, thrusting two small pills and a glass of water into Obi-Wan's hands. He repeated the healer's instructions as he administered the hypospray, “You'll need to take these twice a day, morning and night, along with this hypospray.”
Obi-Wan nodded and swallowed the pills with a slight grimace, and placed the glass on the table.
“Thank you. Now, as I won't be able to spar with you for awhile, why don't you go to the training rooms and get some exercise before your class? And don't forget, Master Windu has kindly agreed to practice with you afternoons while I am recovering.”
In fact, Anakin had forgotten, his initial panic at Obi-Wan's message having obscured anything else it may have contained.
“But . . . Master . . .” he trailed off.
Obi-Wan looked at him expectantly.
“I should stay here, you shouldn't be alone! What if you need something?” he blurted out.
“I will be just fine, Anakin, really. Now go get your gear and off to the training rooms with you,” Obi-Wan replied with a reassuring smile, somewhat surprised by his Padawan's concern. Perhaps he had over estimated Anakin's uneasiness dealing with sickness.
“Yes Master,” came the reluctant reply. “Do you need anything before I go?”
At Obi-Wan's negative reply and pointed look towards the door, Anakin retrieved his training gear and class notes and headed to the training rooms.
~*~*~*~*
Feeling refreshed and pleasantly tired, Anakin headed back to his quarters after his sparring lesson with Master Windu. Though Anakin didn't particularly like the man, he had to admit that he was an able instructor. On the way, he made a quick stop at the commissary.
Palming open the door , Anakin stepped into their dark quarters and raised the lights. A quick glance around the common area and kitchen showed them to be empty, so Anakin figured that his Master must have gone to his bedroom for a nap. Quietly, he brought his package into the kitchen and unwrapped it, breathing in the delicious smell. He was hungry after his workouts, and wanted to get some nutritious food into Obi-Wan as well. Pulling the food out, he laid it out on the table, hoping that the light meat stew and junberry flatbread would be enough to coax his Master to eat.
“Master?” he called softly as he entered the bedroom. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could make out the form of his Master, lying face down, uncovered, on top of the bed. Anakin sat down on the side of the bed and shook him gently, “Master?”
Receiving no response, he tried again, a bit louder, “Master? I've brought some food, will you come eat now?”
Worried now, as Obi-Wan was usually a very light sleeper, Anakin rolled him over to his side and placed a hand on his forehead. He quickly withdrew it. Obi-Wan was burning up, and Anakin could not wake him.
Taking a deep breath, Anakin resolved to remain calm, and went to fetch a cloth and a bowl of water. Lowering a body's temperature was a simple endeavor, he told himself as he applied a cold compress to Obi-Wan's too-warm forehead and dabbed his chest and neck with a wet cloth. He could do it.
Despite his efforts, though, Obi-Wan still did not wake, and his temperature was still too high. All of his soft pleading and gentle cajoling didn't elicit any response either, and Anakin abandoned the cloth in the bowl and abruptly stood up, frustrated at his uselessness. He wasn't helping Obi-Wan at all. Looking down at Obi-Wan's still, flushed face, he hurried out of the bedroom and went straight to the com unit.
“Hello, this is Padawan Skywalker, I'm calling about Master Kenobi. Is Healer Tirrel available?”
After he had concluded his call, he grabbed his cloak and quickly left their quarters. He didn't know where he was going, but he just couldn't stand to stay.
Chapter 7
Obi-Wan woke to the muted sound of conversation coming from outside his open bedroom door. The voices stopped abruptly, followed by the quiet beep of a com unit turning off, and a young woman – an apprentice healer, by the looks of her dress – appeared at his bedside.
“Good morning, Master Kenobi,” came her soft tones, “It looks like you're feeling better.”
“Morning, is it?” he rasped, breaking off in a cough.
“Well, very nearly. It's still quite early.” she replied as Obi-Wan glanced out the window. “How are you feeling?” she prodded gently.
Considering the question for a moment, Obi-Wan concluded that he was feeling much better than he had been yesterday afternoon. He didn't feel so cold and congested, and things didn't seem nearly as hazy as they had yesterday.
“I'm feeling much better, Healer . . .” he trailed off, realizing that he didn't know who this healer was and that he had no memory of her coming.
“It's Apprentice Healer Sinan,” she replied with a small bow, “and it is good to hear that you are feeling better.” she said kindly.
Thinking of yesterday though, he realized with a start that not only did he not remember Healer Sinan's arrival, but he also didn't remember anything at all after collapsing on his bed for a nap yesterday afternoon.
Sensing his thoughts in the way that Healers always seem to, she informed him, “Your Padawan called the healer's late yesterday, you had a very high fever. My Master, Healer Tirrel, came to treat you, and since your Padawan was not here I was to stay with you until you woke.”
“Oh . . . I see . . . thank you.” Obi-Wan replied, his mind racing to make sense of the explanation. Since the healer was still here, he assumed that his Padawan was not. Where on Coruscant could Anakin have gone?
With honed efficiency, the apprentice healer administered medication, took his temperature, and brought him a light meal, which he made an effort to at least pick at. After assurances from Obi-Wan that he was fine, and that his Padawan would be returning shortly, she left, satisfied.
Despite what he had told the young healer, Obi-Wan really had no idea when his Padawan would be back, let alone where he was. Determined to resolve this, he threw off the covers and settled down cross-legged on top of the bed. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, finding his inner silent spot, and then concentrated on locating his Padawan in the Force.
There. Anakin's bright, chaotic presence was like a beacon as he sensed it through their training bond. Though normally somewhat turbulent, his Padawan's presence was now like a whirlwind. Something was definitely bothering his apprentice, though as soon as he noticed Obi-Wan's mental prodding his shields slammed into place.
Obi-Wan drew back mentally, stunned. While he had not been able to discover exactly what it was that was bothering Anakin, he clearly did not want to share it with his Master. Disturbed, Obi-Wan knew that he had to find his Padawan, now.
But where would he be? Anakin wasn't too fond of any of the meditation gardens . . . the observation areas were usually too crowded for
him . . . and Anakin never could do repairs when he was upset. Racking his somewhat muddled brain, Obi-Wan suppressed the impulse to hit himself on the forehead as the answer suddenly came to him.
He got out of bed and pulled on his boots and cloak as quickly as his present condition allowed, and shakily set out to find his Padawan.
Chapter 8
Anakin looked blankly over the railing, seeing but not taking in the breath taking view of the wakening city-planet from a balcony of the Temple's highest spire. Wallowing in his thoughts of guilt and anger, Anakin didn't notice his Master's presence until he felt another shoulder brush his as the older man sat down next to him.
“Hello, Anakin,” came his Master's soft, slightly raspy voice.
Anakin jumped, though said nothing. Wanting to be left alone yet needing comfort, he simply waited, knowing that Obi-Wan would not leave him alone anyway.
Obi-Wan, however, did not say anything more, and simply gazed out at the bright view of the city. Shivering, he pulled his robes closer and crossed him arms over his chest, muffling his coughs with his sleeve.
Several minutes passed before Anakin spoke, figuring that Obi-Wan could and probably would out-wait him if he wanted to. It was too cold for that.
“Master . . . I'm sorry I left.” he said tightly, looking down as he twisted his fingers up in his robe. “I shouldn't have left you alone.”
“Anakin, its alright. I'm alright. You called the healers, thank you.” pausing for a moment, he continued when Anakin didn't respond, “Talk to me, Padawan mine. Something more is bothering you.” he coaxed.
“It's just . . . I can't! I can't deal with it, Master.” he burst out.
“What is it that you can't deal with, Anakin?” Obi-Wan prodded, sounding concerned.
A moment passed in silence. “Sickness.” came the nearly inaudible reply. “I hate it, Master. Does that make me a bad Jedi? Or a bad person?”
Obi-Wan paused a moment before replying. “No, Anakin, it does not. You are as you are. Why, though, do you feel this way?” He placed his hand on Anakin's arm, the small gesture providing comfort as intended.
“When people are injured, there's something wrong that I can at least try and fix . . . but when they're sick, I can't do anything to stop the things invading their body. I can't stand to be so helpless and . . . useless.” he choked out. “I used to think I could help, but . . .” As a child, he'd thought he could help anyone, if only he tried hard enough.
“Anakin, that is simply the nature of disease. Microorganisms are living things as well, and it takes a special sort of training to be able to fight them off from outside,” he said gently. “The fact that it bothers you not to be able to help shows that you care, not that you are a bad person.”
“But Master, what can I do? If there even is anything to be done about caring too much,” he added bitterly.
“Do? Just what you were doing. Just because you can't cure disease doesn't mean you can't help the person. You don't need to be afraid of people who are ill.” he finished, looking searchingly at Anakin. “And really,” he added, “I would hardly call you useless, Padawan. If I recall, you make an excellent chicken soup.”
“How would you know?” Anakin shot back, lightening somewhat, “You wouldn't even eat it.”
“True enough,” he admitted, “Though I'm sure it was quite good. You can be quite the caretaker when you put your mind to it,” Obi-Wan said wryly, stifling a cough.
Anakin grinned and turned to face him. “Perhaps, Master, perhaps.” Suddenly, realization hit him. It was barely dawn and here he was, sitting atop the cold, windy Temple spire. With Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, who was sick, and probably still feverish.“And a good thing too,” he continued, “Because it appears to me that a certain someone is doing a terrible job taking care of themselves.” he said pointedly, looking at Obi-Wan. “It's freezing up here, Master.”
“True enough, Padawan, but that is what a robe is for,” he said, spreading his arms as if to demonstrate. The effect was somewhat spoiled by a brief fit of coughing.
“Hmmph.” Anakin eyed Obi-Wan worriedly. “Maybe so, but I think I'm ready to go back to our quarters now.” Rising to leave the balcony, he threw over his shoulder, “Are you coming, Master? Or do you need help?”
“Yes, I am coming, and no, I do not need help, though thank you.” he replied, and Anakin watched as he rose stiffly and followed him inside.
Chapter 9
“Its early yet, Anakin, why don't you get some sleep?” Obi-Wan suggested, seeing that his Padawan was nearly drooping by the time they reached their quarters.“I don't know what you've been doing all this time, though I doubt it was sleeping.”
Considering for a moment, Anakin replied, “I think that's a good idea, Master. I am tired. But . . .” he hesitated, seeming unsure as to what to say but wanting to say something.
“We'll talk later this morning, after you have some breakfast.” Obi-Wan told him. “Now, off to bed with you.”
After making sure that Obi-Wan didn't need anything – and burying him under a pile of blankets on the sofa – Anakin went to his room to go to bed. Obi-Wan knew that he would be asleep within minutes.
Hours later, Anakin came out of his room and headed to the 'fresher, presumably for a shower and change, and Obi-Wan heard Anakin pad out of the 'fresher just as a fit of coughs racked his frame. After the fit passed, Obi-Wan caught his breath and looked up to see that Anakin had entered the room. They exchanged greetings, and Anakin went to the kitchen to fix breakfast.
“Master?” he called, “What would you like to eat?”
“I've already eaten, Padawan, so nothing for me, thank you.” he replied, remembering the bland mush that Healer Sinan had tried to feed him.
“Oh.”
A few minutes later, Anakin emerged from the kitchen with a large pastry roll in one hand and a mug in the other, the latter of which he handed to Obi-Wan as he sat down.
Obi-Wan sniffed at the mug suspiciously, and was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was only juice. “Thank you, Padawan.”
“So . . .” Anakin began, “The healers fed you, I take it?”
“Yes.” Obi-Wan responded with a small chuckle. “When I woke up early this morning an apprentice healer was here.”
“I see.”
“Anakin . . .” Obi-Wan began, unsure of how to proceed, “I've been thinking, and from what you've told me, I think we can both agree that you have some issues to work through in regards to how you react to illness.” Anakin nodded slightly, and Obi-Wan continued, “To this end, I'd like you to do some work in the healer's wing from time to time, to help you get used to dealing with sickness and to better understand your reactions to it. Not to mention make yourself useful. Alright?” he finished gently. He hoped that Anakin wouldn't see his new assignment as punishment, because that wasn't what he intended it to be.
“Yes, Master.” Anakin replied, looking almost relieved. “I don't want to, but I know that this is something I have to deal with.” he finished reluctantly.
“And if you ever need to talk about it, don't hesitate to come to me. And later, when I'm sufficiently recovered, we will meditate on this together as well.”
Anakin only nodded, smiling faintly. Perhaps Obi-Wan had finally managed to get through to him.
~*~*~*~*~
It had been six days since Obi-Wan had first visited the healers, and all in all he was feeling much better. Except for a lingering fatigue and a slight soreness in his chest, he was almost entirely recovered. Soon, he would be cleared for light missions, which brought him to his current quandary: figuring out what kind of mission to request. Being a highly effective team, he and Anakin were hardly ever sent on missions that were considered 'light duty', and they rarely had a choice in the matter anyway.
He didn't want something too dull, as Anakin really had been cooped up too much lately. Unfortunately, 'dull' and 'light duty' missions were usually one and the same. Except for . . .
Obi-Wan brightened, suddenly struck with an idea. Heading to the com unit, he flipped it on and contacted the Council with his request.
Pleased that his request had been approved, Obi-Wan began rifling through his data files for some reading material.
~*~*~*~
“Master, I'm back,” Anakin announced as he stepped in the door.
“You look like you've had a good workout,” Obi-Wan commented approvingly as he took in his apprentice's disheveled appearance and flushed face.
“Very. Master Windu is quite an . . . engaging teacher. Not as good as you, of course, Master.” he added. “When will you be up to taking over my lessons again?”
“Just two more days and I'll be cleared for light duty, including sparring with you. And I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that we have a light mission lined up for then as well.”
“A light mission, Master? What is it?” Anakin asked warily. In his limited experience, light missions tended to be anything but, or excrutiatingly dull.
Obi-Wan chuckled at his apprentice's tone. “I know what you're thinking, and you needn't look so worried. I specifically requested this one, and it looks like it'll be fun. And a good learning experience for you as well.”
“Fun?” Anakin echoed apprehensively. His and Obi-Wan's ideas of 'fun' tended to be vastly different.
“Yes, Padawan, 'fun'. I doubt you've heard, but it seems that a recent field trip for the younger Initiates ran into some trouble and had to be cut short. You and I will be going along as Leaders on their next one,” Obi-Wan smiled.
Anakin opened his mouth to protest, recalling the mess of children he had encountered in the healer's wing, but then thought better of it. It was better than a boring diplomatic mission . . . well, in theory, anyway.
END
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