pronker

Part Eighty-Two

This was bad, this was bad. Luminara skimmed Obi-Wan's ganglia, synapses, and neurons all the way down to the dendrites and there was not a thing organically wrong with him.

Could the pain be psychosomatic? Delicate as he was physically --- she never used the word 'delicate' to Obi-Wan or to Anakin or even to Barriss in confidence; 'hypersensitive' was the correct Healer's term --- her friend had one of the strongest psyches she'd ever seen in her practice. Healer Regork was more the expert, however; Luminara found the ephemeral nature of soul Healing unsatisfying, though she admitted it only to herself. Regork had cured eleven year-old Barriss of her aversion to swimming in two twenty-minute sessions involving blaster-soakers and the game of tag. Surfing Obi-Wan's brain, but avoiding his consciousness because she was not telepathic, she tested the pain center for misfires. There were none. His pain center signaled steady waves of pain like solar flares, twisting and leaping. But what is the stimuli? Obi-Wan whimpered, coming out of his stupor entirely too soon. This is bad. It's bad that I've not found the source of his pain. It will be that much harder to treat. She withdrew slowly, augmenting her retreat with as much balm as she could, settling on the diagnosis of post-traumatic psychosomatic disorder, going over her findings for surety. Could Trow have affected him this much? A survival situation, his Padawan as well as his mission in danger, might impress Obi-Wan subconsciously into a pain reaction. He and Anakin became closer on Trow, Obi-Wan had said. Could his Padawan's missing arm and the trauma causing it be somehow mapped onto him, now that they had Force-imprinted? Obi-Wan, you're due for some soul Healer sessions with me. If they fail, Master Plo Koon's telepathic help might be called for. Luminara hoped not, though. Plo could be an ass at times.

"Uhhhh, mmmmnnnowwwtch ... huh ... 's gone? No hurts ... good work, Lu ... thanks ... " Obi-Wan spoke without opening his eyes. Luminara held his hands in hers to comfort him as he roused and to give herself the illusion that she had accomplished more than she had. She leaned her head close to Obi-Wan's to speak softly into his ear, her cowl acting as a megaphone. This state of limbo-awareness was tricky; he may not remember what he said or what she said when he returned to full consciousness.

"The pain is better?" Simply by holding hands, she could access his level of tension. It was non-existent; the man was loose as a lantern bird. When she had withdrawn, the pain still marked his aura with red lightning streaks. In the seconds since then, the pain had vanished. Yes, psychosomatic. Another addition to his file. I'll need to add more memory to it now.

He was rapidly coming out of it. "'S gone, gone, gone. R'mind me t' be y'r slave at th' Picnic, bring you plate of nerfburgers, carry y'r 'mbrella, refill y'r glass w'bubblezap, 'n lose to you 'n Barriss 'n the three-appendage race, 'nkin will go 'long with it ... " Obi-Wan slurred, "'nkin, whaaa ... wherrrr 's he, luvvim, y'know ... " An absurdly wide smile appeared on his face. "Luvvim, luvvim, luvluvluvvim ... "

It was as Luminara had feared could happen. Force-imprinting nearly melded the two of them into one. Love? Naturally, Obi-Wan loved his Padawan, as Luminara loved Barriss. Training them, living in the same quarters, year after year, mindful of their health, their food intake, their immunizations, their studies, their habit of comming their friends minutes after seeing them in the refectory, all conditions of the Master-Padawan relationship led into a lifelong affection. She squeezed his hands and waited for him to awaken fully.

"So I can go back to the Council meeting?" Obi-Wan said twenty minutes later. He wanted to bring Anakin and stand with him in the questioning Yoda and the others would surely conduct. He stripped off the white smock and pulled on his undergarments, no hitching of pain evident in his arm as the Healer watched his smooth movements.

Luminara saw the black rings under her friend's eyes and the strain of his pain attack still evident in his twisting hands as he pulled on his calf-molding boots. "An important meeting, I gather?"

"Yes. I can't tell you more, I'm sorry, Lu. One thing is paramount, that Anakin and I return there today." Palpatine's death, Sidious' disclosure, what could there be more important than that? Despite his bone-deep fatigue that nothing but sleep would cure, he had to follow through with this. Prolonging it would only enable Anakin's illusions of friendship with the Sith to continue. He'll be hurt, no doubt of it. Obi-Wan called on all his training in dispassion to release his fury over Sidious' deception to the Republic, but most personally, to his Anakin. He pulled his outer tunic closed and refastened his belt. A hand to smooth his short hair back and he was ready.

Luminara patted the bed beside her. "Sit down, Obs. I'm releasing you to your quarters, not the Council chambers." At his raised eyebrows and beginning protest, she interrupted, "No. That's the way it will be. Your diagnosis is post-traumatic psychosomatic disorder, and I'd be a poor Healer if I let you return to the site of your attack, right away at least. You can comm any information in, if it's that vital." Something to do with the war, she supposed. She was needed at New Holstice to treat the growing numbers of wounded and began to dread what she would find there. The database on treating wounded Jedi grew with each day. That's because there are more wounded Jedi than ever before.

"You mean, I'm a mental? Is that what it was? Never."

She became perturbed. "Do you doubt me?" I'm going to request leave for him from the Council, important business or no.

Obi-Wan stared at her for a long time. "No. I feel foolish, though." He looked down at his right hand. Maybe he did need a rest. "Never had anything like this happen. Even when Qui-Gon passed into the Force before my eyes. Why now?"

"Our bodies are mysteries and the mind the most mysterious part of all." This always sounded good, even though it was a platitude, and true. "I'm releasing you to Anakin's care and your quarters, and I need you to practice something for your ... condition." Reaffirm his own identity, that's the first step. "Repeat this after me: 'I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, Councilmember, Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn, Master of Anakin Skywalker,'" she said clearly and slowly, embuing her words with the lightest touch of the Force. "'I am the Negotiator. These things are all that I need be in the Force. I do not need to feel any deeper than I must to be effective, and if I do, I will not be effective. For my own sake, my Padawan's, the Order's and the Force's, I scale down my body's reaction to any outside stressor" --- Anakin, thought Luminara with a little frown --- "until I ... can ... be ... wholly ... myself ... again.'" Obi-Wan looked her in the face as he repeated it, until the part about being wholly himself again. Then his eyes crinkled in an amused way. She needed to impress upon him the seriousness of his changed state.

"What? It's nothing physical, Obs, but it could be serious."

"Who else could I possibly be?" he asked, looking to her to elaborate, but she said nothing.

The river hesitated.

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Part Eighty-Three

"Kenobi and Padawan leave is granted. I trust your judgment, Healer Unduli. Next on agenda?"

Master Windu waited until Master Unduli completed her graceful bows and exited the chamber. "Medical leave for them now, Master Yoda?"

"The Sith's identity will be kept quiet. What good will be served for our cause by allowing Dooku and Grievous to know that we know? Isn't it better to leave Dooku floundering for strength to guide his forces without Sidious' help in spinning webs into plots?" Yoda had not slept since the momentous clearing of his Force-sight. This is like old times. I will sleep later. My work comes first. Extreme fatigue warped Yoda's speech centers and he hoped his syntax did not confuse any being. Much meditation about the length of the galaxy-wide conflict had brought him to the sad conclusion that at least two years remained. Sidious' plans for mass confusion and divided loyalties will take time to root out. When he sought visions of his Order, viewing their diminished ranks through the long months ahead added to his sleeplessness.

Mace refrained from commenting further about the sidelining of one of their number. Even a layperson could see that Obi-Wan's white face and spasming arm indicated more than any pulled muscle during a sparring match. He pushed for a solid piece of data to begin their work with. He couldn't seem to help himself. "Can we at least obtain a statement from Skywalker? What if his knowledge of Sidious" --- Mace spat the word with great venom --- "is crucial to us?"

Yoda remained firm. "Sidious is dead. What was crucial was that we recognized his true nature. Now we can move secretly to investigate his comms, his files. I have good relations with someone in his inner circle." The small Master slitted his eyes until he looked half-asleep.

This was news to the Council. "How?" Shaak Ti leaned forward, dark fathomless eyes ablaze through her blue outline. Her mondrals flared slightly as if she could ultrasonically sense them through the intervening parsecs.

"Do you remember when Senator Amidala met with us last year in the Chancellor's office?" How good it had been to see Amidala still alive. He approved of her style of politicking as he did few other Senators. She was on his short list for revealing Palpatine as Sidious, and if she moved up in her career path due to the Chancellor's death, the Republic could only benefit.

Shaak Ti smiled her slow smile. "No, Master. I was not yet on the Council."

I am tired. "Hmm, yes. Indeed. Palpatine's executive assistant, Dar Wac, presided over the outer office and with an eye to future needs, I Suggested to him during our brief wait to be admitted to see the Chancellor that personal loyalty to the Jedi, myself in particular, could best serve his own interests." Yoda lifted one shoulder as if in apology for his actions. "He is one Rodian with confused loyalties, to the Chancellor, to Rodian senators, and last but most of all, to himself. I merely added one more loyalty to the mix. And placed it in first position." He tapped his claws on the arm of his seat. "He will help us."

Mace eyed the diminutive Master with more respect than he thought possible. So far-ranging was Yoda's mind, even with the darkness that had veiled it one year ago, that he had planted a spy in the Supreme Chancellor's office. "Have you ever been told you're a great sneak?" There was a telepathic snicker from Plo Koon and a gasp from Ki-Adi-Mundi, right before he subsided with a twinkle in his eye.

"Once, five centuries ago. It was, and is, true."

Though he might regret it, Mace asked, "And do you see changes to the Order in your visions?" There was one in particular he was of two minds about, which was appropriate, since the thought had been planted by the Chosen One during Skywalker's class, Debate 301: Taking Unpopular Stances: Gaining Attention, Or Stating One's Principles? In a lightly-populated lecture hall during Skywalker's portion of the debate ("RESOLVED: That Attachments Lead To Greater Effectiveness As A Jedi"), the fifteen year-old had set Mace to thinking. With many looks for reinforcement in the beginning at his Master in the front row, Skywalker grew into his subject by the end of his speech, looking not at his Master but at each attendee full on with a confidence beyond his years. He was the last debater, and in the way of the Jedi, there was little applause at its conclusion. Skywalker made a single jerky bow and rejoined his Master as they filed out of the hall. Mace noticed at the time how well they walked together.

Yoda slid onto the floor and gimped over to Mace's seat, knocking his gimer stick on the Korun Master's ankles, but not too hard. "Dooku led the Annual Temple Tours for a number of years," he said, relevant to nothing.

"Master?" The sooner Master Yoda got some rest, the better. Mace's brain grew tired of processing his convoluted language. It was one more change than he could comfortably handle, these days.

"He always, always wanted the Council chambers themselves opened to the public to show them that the Jedi Council was approachable and that we did not chant in ancient Myneyrsh all day long, and burn ryll incense while whirling in midair. Some have strange notions about Jedi abilities and practices." Yoda sobered. "Perhaps Dooku was right. My vision is clearer now. We should not appear disconnected from the rest of the galaxy. Though we work in this spire" --- he looked up at the frescoes above his head --- "this is just an upper room."

Changed, the river did.

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