Master Apprentice Archive Quick search:

Nothing in the Dark - continued

(continued from part 16)

Nollon Cas Lon, a senior psychiatric practitioner, headed the small party awaiting master, padawan and bondmate in the healers' wing. He was an elegant humanoid whose silken, mink-colored hair brushed the tops of his shoulders. While he was well over 300 years old, he appeared close in age to Qui-Gon.

The group split in two. One healer and the med droid escorted Mekall to medical; Cas Lon led the rest to the psych healers' facilities.

Qui-Gon was loath to put Obi-Wan down. Once he did place him on the examination bed, he could not bring himself to back away.

"Qui-Gon," Cas Lon addressed him, "Mace has apprised me of how difficult the past days have been. You've done everything you could for him."

If only that were true, Qui-Gon lamented inwardly, as he stared at Obi-Wan in abject but rigorously shielded misery, all too aware of the self-serving bent of the thought.

"Let them do their work," Mace advised as additional personnel came into the room. Qui-Gon's gaze traveled from Obi-Wan to Keyden Zhy then down to where Mace's hand rested on his arm. The gesture was devoid of comfort, but Qui-Gon allowed Mace to draw him away.

Mekall had looked everywhere for Obi-Wan. He felt his bondmate was nearby, teasing just past the edge of what his conscious mind could grasp. At each turn, he expected to find him. Time and again, he had come up empty. It was when Mekall decided to retrace his steps that he found Obi-Wan exactly where he had begun his search, on the cliffside bordering the city.

Obi-Wan's back was to him.

"I already looked here for you," Mekall said, coming up behind him. Obi-Wan's attention remained fixed outward.

"What's the matter?" Mekall asked. "Why won't you say anything?"

Obi-Wan turned around to face him. Staring at him pensively, he brushed just the tips of his fingers over Mekall's cheek. The wind picked up strength, howling around them, pushing at them. Obi-Wan took a balancing step, but toward not away from the mountain's edge. His gaze drifted back across the city, as if it called to him.

"I won't let you go," Mekall said, sensing Obi-Wan's need. "Wherever you're going, I'll -"

Obi-Wan looked into Mekall's eyes with such longing it stole Mekall's breath. Taking one of Mekall's hands in each of his, Obi-Wan brushed the barest touch of his lips over his bondmate's mouth, then let go of Mekall's hands and took a single step.

Mekall reached for him, but Obi-Wan eluded his grasp. He hung in midair for a few seconds, then vanished. Mekall called out, but he could not hear his own voice. It was lost in a sea of voices. First dozens, then dozens upon dozens were streaming into his head. It was a dissonant muddle. He could not make out what any of them were saying.

Trying to ward off the amplifying noise only made it worse. Mekall eschewed the urge to shut it out, instead relaxing and letting the streams of communication flow around and through him, losing himself within the mass.

Thash Rohr stood by Mekall's bedside, disquiet knotting his brow.

Long accustomed to the protracted waits which were often requisite in a Jedi's life, Thash had come equipped with plenty to do. But as he tried to work, he had felt uneven Force currents which drew his attention from his task. Keying a few perfunctory figures into his statistical model, he had closed his datapad to take a closer look at Mekall.

After Mekall's disappearance, Thash had made a practice of seeking his friend, searching databases, reviewing census records and scanning crowds wherever he and his master went. Master Eitan had indulged the quest, as Thash never let it interfere with his duties.

Time passed. Thash's attempts became less frequent, but he never gave up entirely. Since being knighted, when he was sent to a far flung planet or given entree to a new information source, Thash checked. Even though he had never come up with more than an outdated line or two, Thash firmly believed Mekall was alive somewhere. How curious it was, after so much time had passed, to have run into Mekall in the middle of a Coruscant shopping thoroughfare.

Thash closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts, narrowing his focus to the present. Mekall was in the bed right in front of him, but it was hard to get any sense of him.

"Mekall, can you hear me? It's Thash. If you hear me, try to come toward my voice. You have to come back."

Come back. Back from where? Mekall thought. He waited for another directive, though merely increasing his concentration had made the commotion in his head reconfigure from a rushing, incomprehensible torrent into delineated threads of speech and thought.

There was a hushed litany, a diagnosis, half of an animated debate. One voice made a prediction, another explicated a philosophical treatise. He heard what sounded like a class being taught, an impetuous declaration, a solemn vow and a muttered curse.

"Mekall, open your eyes. You need to wake up." Thash's voice took on a commanding tone. "Wake up now," he ordered.

Thash saw Mekall's eyes take on life behind the closed lids.

"That's it. Use my voice as your focal point. Concentrate. Come toward it. Toward me. You need to surface. Just come toward me and open your eyes."

Focus. Concentrate. Mekall did as instructed without overthinking it. It sounded reasonable enough. There was too much noise. His head was full, aching like a battle was being waged inside his skull. He must be picking up communications from all over the . . .

A drowsy, wan sort of alarm spread through Mekall as he realized he was all but completely unshielded. He began redeploying his mental defenses. It made for a sudden and jarring quiet in which all he heard were the soft beeps of some type of mechanical monitor and breathing. His and someone else's.

Obi-Wan. But he's gone. Lost. Or is he? Maybe he still has me by the throat.

If he did, Mekall discovered, he did not really care anymore. "Obi-Wan?" he spoke the name without the will to open his eyes.

"No, it's Thash."

"Thash?"

"Yes."

Thash. That did not make any sense, but as long as he was not pinned under an enraged Obi-Wan it was safe to look around.

Dim room. Durasteel frame bed. Scent that did not linger in memory as much as hide in a forgotten crevice. He was in the healers' ward.

"When?" Mekall asked.

"About half past twenty-third."

"No -" He had meant the year. But that was stupid as Thash was obviously not a padawan, nor was he. "Never mind. Why am I in the healers?"

"I've not been able to get a straight answer about that. I get the impression it's a bit complicated."

Annoyed, Mekall sat up, and promptly keeled over from a wash of vertigo and nausea.

"Are you okay?" Thash inquired.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"No."

"Where's Obi-Wan?"

"In the next ward."

"What's happened to him?" Mekall asked.

"I've had trouble getting an answer there as well."

Mekall made another, much more judicious, effort to sit up. It did not feel good, but he was not going to let that stop him. Thash placed his hand on Mekall's back for support.

Mekall removed monitor pads from his chest and took an intravenous needle from his vein. He extended his legs over the side of the bed, stretching them to get his circulation going. "Let me simplify," he said as he slid carefully to the floor. "Where are my clothes?"

"I don't think they want you to leave."

Mekall opened one cabinet, then another, heading in the wrong direction. Thash - knowing the Force let a man make his own mistakes - pointed to a door to his right. Mekall opened it and began rummaging through the pockets of his shirt.

"What are you doing here anyway?" he queried.

"I heard you were taken ill. When I called to check, I was routed to Master Jinn. He asked me to sit with you, so you wouldn't be alone," Thash said. And a Forcesent thing he did, he continued the thought to himself. Mekall could have slipped away and never come back.

Taken ill. Thash's words brought it all back to Mekall.

Waking with Jinn sitting over him.

Mace Windu and . . . that other one watching him as he came out of the bedroom to bring Jinn's robe to the balcony.

"Might you like to see a healer now?" Qui-Gon Jinn, the comedian.

Obi-Wan ravaging the bond in a desperate bid to carry on.

"How do you know I'm not contagious?" Mekall asked Thash facetiously.

"Would the masters ask me to stay with you if you were?" Thash replied.

Mekall held his tongue.

"My sense was that Obi-Wan wasn't quarantined for anything physical," Thash said.

"You felt it." Mekall located what he was hunting for, withdrew a cheroot, lit it and inhaled deeply, holding in the smoke.

"There were reverberations," Thash responded, not concealing a look of disapproval.

"Want one?" Mekall inquired, exhaling voluminously.

Thash smiled in spite of himself.

Mekall shrugged out of the convalescent whites and put on his pants and shirt.

"Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan," Thash commented, "You're a braver man than I."

"I think you mean more foolish," Mekall said as he tossed his boots to the floor. He slipped his feet into them and cautiously began to bend over to fasten the closures.

"I'll get those," Thash offered. Kneeling at Mekall's feet, he added, "You didn't call."

"That would be because I was lying when I said I would," Mekall told him.

"And what do you two think you're up to?"

Tae Brathe, an older padawan acquaintance, then apprenticing to the healers, now a healer himself.

"Rast catcher," Mekall accused, sounding deadly serious. "Crud scrubber," Brathe volleyed with an easy grin, not missing a beat.

The insulting descriptives brought a smile to Thash's face. When they were boys, Tae had had a penchant for taking in and caring for small, often unadorable creatures. What Brathe shot back came from the time a group of initiates and padawans took a foray onto the streets of Coruscant and stayed out past curfew. Mekall, who lagged behind to make sure everyone else got to their quarters safely, was the only one to get caught. It resulted in a full day and night of scouring every surface of a transport which - Mekall said at the time - had not seen the inside of a maintenance bay in one hundred years. Mekall never revealed who had been with him.

"I always knew you'd return." Brathe gave Mekall a quick, enthusiastic hug, none the gentler for his condition.

"You're mad," Mekall protested. "I swore to myself I'd never return to this place."

"Yet here you are," Brathe pointed out. "What we plan and what the Force intends can diverge if we don't pay due heed to our -"

"I heed, I heed," Mekall short-circuited the incipient oration.

Brathe met his smile, point taken. Mekall had not asked for his advice. "You shouldn't have let him get up," he reprimanded Thash mildly.

"I'm not staying," Mekall said, not giving Thash time to defend himself.

"In that case, Master Jinn would like to see you."

"How convenient. I'd like to see him too."

Mekall led Tae Brathe and Thash into the halls of the healing complex. He knew exactly where Obi-Wan was.

"How are you?" Tae asked Mekall.

"In one piece. More importantly, how's Obi-Wan?"

"Why is that more important?"

Because of the damned bond and you know it, Mekall thought. "Are you going to answer me or not?"

"He's unconscious."

Mekall stopped in his tracks. Since he had come back to himself, he had felt the bond quite clearly. It was a reassuring hum in the back of his mind which, he had thought, was guiding him to Obi-Wan.

After pausing a moment, Brathe walked on. Thash gave Mekall a nudge to get him moving. The two of them followed Tae through the halls of the healers' wards and on past a security post to an unmarked area.

Qui-Gon and another man, not as tall but equally stately, were coming toward them down a very long corridor.

The foursome stopped facing one another. Thash hung back.

Beneath a veneer of composure, Qui-Gon appeared haggard. He looks, Mekall considered, even more wasted than I am. One of us should definitely be lying down.

"Master Cas Lon, this is Obi-Wan's bondmate, Mekall Nower. Mekall, this is Master Nollon Cas Lon. He is a psychological healer."

"How are you feeling?" Cas Lon inquired.

"Impatient," Mekall replied bluntly, noticing the noble- looking master had two different colored eyes.

"Yes, I've heard that about you," Cas Lon responded as candidly, "but I would call upon your forbearance. This is no time to rush haphazardly in." Cas Lon held his hand up, not brooking Mekall's dissent.

"No one is being admitted. There is nothing to discuss. You must rest. I can make you do so here or you can go back to your quarters. That is your decision. Padawan Kenobi is being cared for. That will have to be enough for you."

Mekall made no reply. Qui-Gon was duly impressed. Nollon had not lost his touch.

Stretched out on the sofa in the quarters' common room, Mekall mulled over the scene at the healers. Cas Lon might have used a Force suggestion on him but it was more likely simply force of will. Cas Lon could have knocked him over with a feather.

Self-discovery had never been one of Mekall's favorite modes of operation. You were. Things were. You did what had to be done. You figured out what it meant later, if there was time and inclination.

Probably the most onerous part of this whole . . . adventure - he labeled it caustically - was the, up to this point, nearly limitless opportunity for learning new things about himself. He was sick of himself, sick of these rooms and the Temple, sick of thinking about it all and, come to it, just plain feeling pretty sick. He could easily have remained at the healers', probably should have. He knew he was being imprudent, but he could not bring himself to stay, especially when he was not at the top of his game.

Thash walked to the quarters with him, surely wanting to talk. Mekall could not blame him - thought he owed him some explanation, in fact. But he did not provide any, unwilling, at this point, to try to come to any conclusions about what Obi-Wan - and he - had just gone through. He was grateful to Qui-Gon for sending Thash his way, even if it had been bewildering waking up to the sound of Thash's voice. For a few seconds, Mekall had not known what year it was.

When Thash left he gave Mekall his number again; Mekall did not insult him by promising to com.

Qui-Gon had stayed at the healers' wards. Mekall wanted to be there as well, but first, he was badly in need of a shower. And a smoke - the cheroot at the healers was the last he had on him. And some food - rations or whatever - in order to keep going.

Well, get off your arse then. Food's in the kitchen. Smokes are in Obi-Wan's bedroom . . .

Mekall did not get as far as setting a foot on the floor. Sleep overtook him with no prelude.

Twelve hours earlier, Mace Windu had received a com call as he escorted Qui-Gon from Obi-Wan's room. He walked up the corridor to gain some privacy, leaving Qui-Gon alone, staring at a closed door, willing himself back inside. Before Mace returned, Nollon Cas Lon emerged from Obi-Wan's room. He wasted no time on preliminaries. "What do you know that we do not?"

"He was sexually assaulted. He nearly committed suicide. He was brainwashed, and this is not the first time he has tried to kill Mekall," Qui-Gon did his utmost to answer the question as directly as it had been asked.

Cas Lon's expression did not change, but Qui-Gon sensed disapproval - though it may simply have been exasperation, to judge by the healer's next question. "Yet neither of you thought psychological counseling advisable?"

"I left it up to Obi-Wan. Normally - " Qui-Gon drew a concealed steadying breath. "I did not know those details until twelve hours ago. He was cleared by your department and three separate Council evaluations," he pointed out.

"Ill-advised, to say the least," Cas Lon commented. "I had a communication from Sollas yesterday after he had seen Obi-Wan, but by then -"

"It was too late," Qui-Gon said. Although he felt a certain amount of defensiveness, he wanted to be honest with Cas Lon, whom he had once known quite well. "Nollon, none of us were able to tell how severely he had been impacted. He's good at hiding it. He was, until today."

Hearing the anguish beneath Qui-Gon's words, Cas Lon became more sympathetic. "How did the change manifest?" he asked, guiding Qui-Gon to a nearby waiting area where they both took a seat.

Feeling recent trials catching up with him, Qui-Gon sought his center, using it to nourish himself, then briefly and unemotionally recounted Obi-Wan's behavior of the past few days, going into more detail when he got to the last twenty-four hours.

"He had not come out of his room," Qui-Gon concluded. "I informed him it was time to go. When he did emerge, he was openly hostile to me."

"As he had been the night before?" Cas Lon surmised.

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, "and as he continued to be. You know what followed."

"When was he brainwashed?" Cas Lon asked, "Was that on Kiradian?"

"No, that was Mekall."

"Mekall?"

"Yes. He was using the Force to try to heal Obi-Wan. It seems to have been what caused the bond to begin to form. At the time, I suppose, he did not recognize what was happening. He felt he was losing control of, even doing harm to, himself and sought to stop it."

"The rape?" Cas Lon asked.

"Was perpetrated on the way to Larral. The Xasx insurrectionists sold Obi-Wan to a slave trader, an Ecenian -" Qui-Gon could not continue. "I should have known," he said quietly after a time.

"How could you have?" Cas Lon asked, placing his hand on Qui-Gon's arm. Qui-Gon felt a knot tie around the lump in his throat. "Obi-Wan let no one close enough," Cas Lon went on. "As he did not, neither you nor his diagnosticians knew to look further."

"He has only been here three days, Nollon. When may I see him?"

"For the time being, you may not," Cas Lon answered, withdrawing his hand. His tone had become businesslike again.

"I don't intend to interfere," Qui-Gon said.

"Of course you don't. You simply will. You must trust me. We're doing what is best for Obi-Wan. I should get back."

With that Qui-Gon had been left to his own devices. He had not been able to bring himself to leave, despite Cas Lon's pronouncement. He returned to the rooms for his datapad and spent the hours awaiting word reading, working and pacing several hundred laps of the corridors around Obi-Wan's room. Meditation was, for the moment, out of the question. He was reining in too much to be able to quiet his mind.

Knight Zhy left early that evening, returning a short time later, hurried and ashen. Healer Ihal was relieved by Healer Sollas. Qui-Gon felt an occasional stirring within the master-apprentice bond, but could not tell whether it came from Zhy or Obi-Wan.

After putting Mekall in his place, Cas Lon went immediately back to Obi-Wan's room with barely a word to Qui-Gon. At the end of his patience, Qui-Gon dispatched the next med droid he saw into Obi-Wan's room with a request for information about his padawan.

The droid did not come out; Evin Sollas did.

"Master Jinn," Sollas began, stiffly formal. It was not to be good news.

"Evin," Qui-Gon responded measuredly.

"Obi-Wan's condition has not improved."

"I deduced as much from the lack of communication," Qui-Gon commented. "Which is all the more reason I should be let in to see him, don't you think?"

"It isn't possible."

"It is possible, Evin."

"Knight Zhy is taxed nearly to his limit maintaining Obi-Wan's shielding and fostering his bonds."

"Obi-Wan is not in question," Qui-Gon said, his tone cold.

"I didn't say he was," Sollas replied softly.

"I will not let you absent yourself from the accusation you're making."

"I'm not accusing Obi-Wan of anything," Sollas said. "I didn't come out here to make accusations, I came out because I thought it might help. I wish I had more to tell you, but I don't. Unless and until circumstances change, sequestration means sequestration. There are larger issues at work."

"Larger - That is my padawan. There is no larger issue than that. I have remained here half the day and night without so much as an attempt to intercede. Now I will see Obi-Wan."

"No, Master Jinn," Sollas used the title pointedly, "you will not. You cannot. Shalonn Vittran protocol must be adhered to."

"Don't invoke code to me -"

"That wasn't my intention. I can't get you in there. You know I would if I could. The situation is delicate and as much in hand as is possible. I implore you, for Obi-Wan's sake, be patient.

"If you could -" Sollas paused, bracing for the result of speaking plainly, "I don't say this to antagonize you, Qui-Gon, honestly I don't, but . . . your serenity might be better served by taking time away from this vigil. Rest. Have something to eat. Meditate."

Qui-Gon's eyes blazed, but he swallowed a heated retort. He took a few seconds to consign his vexation to the Force before saying, "Perhaps." With that he slipped into his cloak, gathered his belongings, bowed in Sollas' general direction and left in an expressive flutter of robes.

Qui-Gon did not look forward to dealing with Mekall, who would be rested by now and at full boil, pacing, smoking, ready to take him on. Discovering him on the couch sound asleep put Qui-Gon in a more charitable frame of mind. He put his belongings on the desk and sat down across from Mekall, attempting to breathe out his tensions.

Mekall was in a sorry state. He wore the same stained clothing and had done nothing to heal the bruises on his neck. It looked as though he had barely gotten through the door before he succumbed to his fatigue.

He should not have left the healers, Qui-Gon mused. In their stubbornness, he and Obi-Wan made a perfect match.

Calmer, Qui-Gon went into the 'fresher to splash water on his face. His outburst with Sollas was understandable, if regrettable. He was simply attempting to manage more emotion than he was able to digest and dispense with. If he had done nothing but meditate, it probably would not have been enough. As it was, he had not been able to come close to processing all of it. His sadness and weariness of heart, mind and body were currently the most prevalent feelings. Attending to them would do.

Qui-Gon let his hair free of its tie, running his fingers through it to shake it loose. His eyes closed quite naturally and a weary sigh crossed his lips as he endeavored to allow the day's stresses to ebb away. Opening his eyes, he took a long look at his face in the mirror.

Maybe Evin was right. Getting through adversity is, in large part, about maintaining one's balance. He would eat and retire. Meditation would wait until morning. The light of a new day might help provide fresh objectivity.

When Qui-Gon crossed back through the common room, Mekall had not moved. He considered waking him, but it would be cruel to do so merely to send him to bed. Instead he took out a blanket and put it over him.

Sleep proved as elusory as Qui-Gon expected it might. Trading bedroom for common room, he logged onto the system to pick up messages and scan through various resources he used daily. When he had run out of busy work, he commed Sollas to check Obi-Wan's condition - it remained unchanged. He used the opportunity to apologize as well.

Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair to skim the news on the Temple system's main page, but his eyes settled on the door to the balcony. With a heavy sigh, he rose and walked outside.

Before placing Obi-Wan's chair under the table, Qui-Gon brushed his hand over the seat as if he could still feel Obi-Wan's warmth. But Obi-Wan had not been warm. He had been cold. Shaking with cold.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon lamented aloud as he pulled the chair out again and sat.

Little but a weighted despondency crossed his thoughts for some time. As close to losing control as he could recall being in decades, Qui-Gon embraced his despair in order to assimilate it and be done with it.

How in the heavens had it come to this? He stood, replacing the chair under the table, and went to the outer wall where he folded down onto his knees to meditate.

What had Obi-Wan been thinking that would make him do such things: wall in his dreadful secret, do so much damage to himself and potentially to so many around him, proceed with determined intent into dangerous proximity to darkness?

Or could he think at all? Perhaps it was as simple as that. Locked within disintegrating thought processes, everyone had become a threat to Obi-Wan, every action his ruination. With his shame building and the indignities of his ordeal compounded by his deterioration, Obi-Wan had backed himself into a corner.

Yet he did not come to me.

Why? Obi-Wan and I have always been so close. Or had that very fact become the problem? Did our history condemn him to this, our relationship and how Obi-Wan's bonding with Mekall altered it?

Except altered was not the word which had first completed the thought. Destroyed was. Qui-Gon shook his head, as if to physically rid himself of these now unsuitable feelings for Obi-Wan.

Get a grip on yourself, old man. There is not more to this than meets the eye. The depth of your training bond with Obi-Wan may have misled you, in ways even blinded you, but do not allow guilt to make you question yourself. Yes, there may have been portents you missed, but you could not have prevented what happened between the time you were separated from Obi-Wan on Kiradian and the time he returned to Coruscant. Since he has been back, you've followed protocol, the Force and your conscience.

You are not responsible for the fate of the galaxy, Jinn. You did what you thought was right. There may have been some divergence in your and your padawan's paths which the Force warned you of and which you did not see. That is where your meditations should be directed. But Qui-Gon could not give his mind over to a free flow of meditation. Instead his thoughts kept returning to the images of Obi-Wan from the last few days: pale and drawn, drenched and helpless in the 'fresher; the tension in his back as he had stood at the rail just the night before.

Standing, Qui-Gon ran his hands over the rail Obi-Wan had held then. Perhaps I am not supposed to be able to free myself of my feelings for him; perhaps that is my lot to bear. For there are penalties to be paid for failure. And for some successes.

Qui-Gon turned to go back inside, sending love and support to Obi-Wan, though he had no illusions it would be received. He had reached him before when circumstances had rendered it improbable. There was no such thing as wasted hope.

On the way to his room, Qui-Gon stopped to check on Mekall. While he stood over him, the younger man kicked the blanket off. Qui-Gon bent to replace it.

" . . . and then it seemed the cause of everything that happened was standing in front of me." Obi-Wan's words from the balcony replayed in Qui-Gon's head as he stared at the sleeping form of his padawan's lover.

With a heavy sigh, Qui-Gon relinquished those feelings to the Force. It would be easy to demonize Mekall. A good deal of what he had done looked, on the surface, more than a little suspect. But this was no more Mekall's fault than it was Obi-Wan's or mine. There is no fault. Merely an unimaginable convergence of fates. A convergence he would spend many an hour meditating on, no doubt, but not now. He was, at last, too tired.

Qui-Gon went to his bedroom. It took some time, but, eventually he did drop off to sleep. He did not awaken until the sun began to break through Coruscant's cloud layers, chasing the cobwebs of morning mist from the gleaming towers.

Rising to face the day, Qui-Gon washed and dressed with a growing serenity born of new resolve. What was past was past. The important task now was seeing to it that Obi-Wan recovered. He would do whatever it took to accomplish that.

The message waiting light on the com panel was flashing red when he came into the common room. Accelerating his pace, Qui-Gon swung into his chair and logged on in one motion. There were two messages. One was from Mace; the Council was convening this morning regarding the matter of Obi-Wan. The other message was for Mekall. Nollon Cas Lon was requesting an interview.

"What is it?" Mekall asked irritably, twisting around until he was lying face up.

Qui-Gon, who had been endeavoring to wake Mekall for some minutes, had finally resorted to what amounted to a good sharp poke of Force.

"I would not have awakened you, but Master Cas Lon has commed that he would like to see you."

"Master - Oh, right," Mekall said. He sounded groggy, but got to his feet. "I slept?"

"All night. I was impressed that you were able to make your way back to the rooms."

"All in your priorities," Mekall responded, mostly to himself, as he stretched. "How's Obi-Wan?"

"His condition is not good," Qui-Gon informed him," and he has been sequestered. The Council is set to meet to discuss his situation."

"Sequestered? I still can't see him?"

"No one can, other than his healers and Keyden Zhy."

"Zhy. Perfect. And what are we supposed to do while the greater committee on how to get fucked by the Jedi decides Obi-Wan's future?" And mine, he added in his head.

"We will wait," Qui-Gon replied.

Mekall gave him a what-did-I-expect-from-you look, but merely walked off toward the 'fresher, with a quiet, "We'll see about that." It was, Qui-Gon decided, considerable progress from teeth-gnashing confrontation.

Qui-Gon set about preparing firstmeal for both of them. Mekall came out of Obi-Wan's - their, Qui-Gon corrected himself - bedroom dressed and ready within fifteen minutes.

"Will you have something to eat?" he asked, not entirely unsurprised when Mekall agreed to.

"Tell me about Zhy," Mekall requested once he sat down.

"He is Shalonn Vittran," Qui-Gon said, as he sat beside Mekall. "Do you know of them? "

"The Jedi who deal with the dark," Mekall confirmed. "So what exactly is he doing for Obi-Wan?"

"Obi-Wan's shields collapsed completely after you lost consciousness. Zhy is shielding for him and acting as a sort of a buffer to prevent any further damage, to Obi-Wan or from his unintentionally harming others."

Except me, Mekall thought. They would all have been happier if he had drifted off into the void yesterday, of that he was certain. Not all, he reminded himself. Qui-Gon, as distraught as he had been, had done what he could to help. "And that requires the Shalonn Vittran?" he asked.

"It does in Obi-Wan's case," Qui-Gon said, even though he himself felt a slight but persistent dread of what Zhy might do if left alone with Obi-Wan.

"Do they think Obi-Wan has turned?" Mekall inquired.

"Zhy attempted to say as much. I would have none of it."

Qui-Gon caught Mekall smiling a bit at that.

"He has not turned," Qui-Gon said.

"I agree," Mekall responded. "I think I would know."

"True," Qui-Gon said. Able to return a bit of Mekall's smile, he tacked on, "But then again, they're not all that sure about you."

Mekall's grin broadened at the jibe.

"So, you haven't seen him at all?" Mekall continued between bites of food.

"Not since yesterday. After you passed out, I had to stop Obi-Wan from attempting to bring you around. He was in no condition. I feared he would do himself, and you as well, permanent harm. I took him to the 'fresher to clean up, in order to distract him. I went to get a fresh tunic for him, he -" Qui-Gon wanted to avoid saying why Obi-Wan needed clean clothes.

"Had my blood all over the front of him," Mekall filled in the blank.

"Yes," Qui-Gon said. "When I got back, he had the shower on and was under it fully dressed."

Mekall put aside his fork. He had lost his appetite.

"Are you all right?" Qui-Gon asked.

"At my house, Obi-Wan . . . he did the same thing. One of the earliest nights he was back on his feet, I heard water running . . . in the middle of the night. Found him in the shower, naked, gouging himself with his fingernails."

Mekall was looking down at the table top, tracing a small shape with his finger. "The nightmares," he continued. "He had no idea where he was. I didn't - I thought - I didn't want to heal him. It was as if I didn't have any choice. Then, when I did, when I healed him, it . . . "

"Deepened the bond," Qui-Gon was not asking.

Mekall nodded stiffly. "Everything I did. It didn't seem to matter what I wanted or what I thought -" He shut his eyes, pressing the base of his palm to the right eye. That pain was back.

Qui-Gon laid his hand over Mekall's free hand. When the younger man looked up, the master's expression was so compassionate, Mekall was nearly undone. He slid his hand out from under Qui-Gon's and stood. Qui-Gon could see him mustering his reserve.

"I'll com you," Mekall spoke to diffuse the impact of what he was feeling, "if I find out anything."

(continued in part 18)