Circle of healing

XVI.

I play dead.

It stops the hurting.

(Björk)

***

Pale morning light filtered infinitely languidly through the open window of the temple. It feebly found its way in, only inadequately lighting the dark corner of the room in which the young man was sitting with upraised knees, eyes squeezed tightly shut, not showing any reaction except for a soft shiver now and again.

His desperate screams had woken Padme abruptly in this white hour - somewhere in between deep night and the break of dawn. The insecurity of the last time she had found him in a nightmare had been gone with the wind - she had shaken him awake resolutely.

The scent of the flowers in the temple's garden wafted into the room heavily, nearly sickly sweet, increasing the unreality even more.

Once again a vast hopelessness rose inside of her. What was she to do? What had he dreamt which had left him so devastated? She carefully inched closer to him and gingerly touched one of the hands cradling his knees to his chest.

Obi-Wan shrank back as though the touch had been white hot and squeezed his eyes shut even more, his face contorting to a mask of boundless panic.

Not any less shaken, Padme recoiled a bit and watched the changes in his features, saw how he fought futilely for control.

"Talk to me." Her voice was urgent.

The young Jedi didn't open his eyes but shook his head. "No," he whispered hoarsely.

"You can't bury everything in you, Obi-Wan," she admonished him gently. "Someday you will have to face your demons."

A bitter laugh rose in his throat and weakly reached her ear.

"Demons," he whispered. "What a clever choice of words."

Slowly, nearly arduously his head rose from his knees and he opened his eyes.

Padme was hard pressed not to recoil any further.

Darkness swam in his now icy-blue eyes -- palpable, frightening darkness which was far too close to the surface, which wove dark veils into the cool blue and caused the temperature in the room to drop noticeably.

Padme shivered and unconsciously pulled the dark red shawl closer around her shoulders. This gaze scared her. Nevertheless - giving up was not an option for her.

"Talk to me," she repeated.

His hands unclenched and he shot to his feet. "And after that? What then?"

The bitterness in his voice didn't quite manage to mask the hopelessness hidden behind those words.

"It’s no use. He was right . . ." His voice broke and he pushed himself away from the wall where he had just been leaning, and walked towards the door.

"Who was right?"

Obi-Wan straightened his shoulders and consciously erected a cool wall of inaccessibility around himself. "Don't think about it any longer. Please forget what I just said. It was irrelevant."

He spoke those last words over his shoulder and pushed the door open to step into the cool, scented morning air.

Anger welled up in Padme when she watched his back, turned at her. Was he pushing her away *again*?

"Don't you dare." Her voice was low and dangerously quiet.

Obi-Wan halted but made no attempt to turn around.

She noticed that he had started shivering ever so slightly. She circled him once, rewarded him with a piercing gaze without saying a word. Finally she stopped right in front of him and seized his chin in a surprisingly strong hand.

"Don't you dare give up now."

Dejection flickered in his eyes. "It's too la . . ."

"No!" she interrupted him fiercely. "It's never too late. You can fight it. Do you want to betray everything you've ever sworn to obey? Do you want to give up?"

A visible shiver ran over Obi-Wan and he reached for the delicate railing of the terrace to steady himself. The wounds were too raw, the pain of the revelation in the dream too scorching. Why couldn't she understand?

When he had found enough of his rapidly fading strength, he turned towards Padme. His gaze was dejected - he had started to surrender.

"I'm tired, Padme."

A quiet confession.

"Forgive me." He carefully eased her hand away from his chin and brushed it softly with his lips. "Please don't ask any more questions."

***

They reached the scene of the accident when the first bright rays of sunlight filtered through thick drifts of smoke and illuminated the frightening scenery.

Broken durasteel and smoking pieces of debris lay scattered on a seemingly endlessly vast square which had not existed like this before. The last supporting struts of the buildings stretched their lacerated arms menacingly into the cool morning air and the cheerful blue sky like gruesome skeletons -- a frightening contrast to the peace of the adjacent gardens. A broad piece of the demarcation of the slopes leading down to the ravines of the rivers surrounding Theed had been blasted away and the new sharply edged ravine which had come into being gaped like a huge, dark wound in the bright sandstone of the tiled paths.

Reaja's hands clenched up. She had been told that there had been a massive explosion, but she hadn't expected this extent.

A quick look at the group of novices who had been put under her charge showed their horror. Reaja understood those feelings, felt the hopelessness and the disgust radiating from the girls but she couldn't afford losing the novices to their own fears right now.

With gentle determination she directed the group out of the transporter and went up to take the lead. Around her she saw the robes of the priestesses already on location, twinkling ghostly through the thick clouds of smoke in their clear blue.

The closer the small group came to the centre of the explosion, the more wounded they saw.

Military task forces were everywhere; swarming around walls which could collapse at any moment, digging for people buried alive, carrying the injured to the hastily erected hospital in the middle of the scattered debris. Transporters rose in intervals which were getting quicker by the minute to bring the severely injured to the temple.

Too many of the bodies were hidden under white cloths already.

'As if the federation didn't do enough damage when they invaded and occupied Naboo,' the priestess thought cynically.

The inhabitants of her homeworld had been brought into camps and had been starved, constantly under the threat of being attacked by the droids.

Now - nearly three weeks after the ending of the blockade and the freeing of Naboo - the Naboo still struggled with the after-effects of the occupation.

There had been too many of the droids, which had become useless after the destruction of the control ship in orbit, for the small Naboo transport pods to take them off-planet. The republic had promised to help, but they had omitted providing immediate help.

In many places traces of the fights which had taken place could still be spotted, and no matter how much the population of Naboo tried to cure and forget the wounds the occupation had struck, small accidents with the droids still there were part of daily life.

Playing children, unintentionally triggering one of the seemingly harmless weapons.

Malfunctions. Explosions. Hidden mines.

One of these hidden mines had exploded in one of the most tightly populated squares in Theed and had turned the night, retreating so peacefully, into a morning of horror.

Reaja pushed back her deafening anger about the senselessness of the catastrophe and pivoted to reach her assigned place of action.

The gazes of the novices scurried back and forth between the injured, horror mingled with the expectation to help, with the need to help. Not needing any further assignments, the girls poured into the cluster of injured and quickly and adroitly started the essential work.

In the middle of the approximately fifteen older girl Reaja suddenly spotted a younger, more familiar face - full of freckles and with frightened, insecure, bright blue eyes.

The priestess felt a sting of sadness. This shouldn't have been Naara's first assignment. The fragile, sensitive novice would have been better off helping with the outbreak of a common children's illness. Her training hadn't reached the level to . . .

With quick steps she walked towards the intimidated girl and placed a calming hand on her slim shoulder.

"No one is expecting you to perform a miracle, Naara," she said softly. She clearly felt the fear of failure, radiating noticeably off the novice. "Use the abilities you already have and stay close to me. Watch me and help me."

Relief painted the elfin features of the girl and she followed the priestess who made her way through the confused and injured inhabitants of the city.

This was a difficult situation. Reaja knew that they were going to lose a lot of the young novices after this day, simply because they couldn't cope with the incredible burden of this terrible event.

Notwithstanding this, the healer priestess Reaja was determined not to lose this one novice. No matter how horrifying the work which lay ahead of them might be - Reaja would see to it that Naara came out of this experience stronger than she believed to be possible right now.

***

Darkness. Obscurity and gloom wherever he looked. Every shadow promised evil, menace, even here in the bright sunlight. What was dream, what was reality? He couldn't tell. Had forgotten. Would the memory ever return?

Don't sleep.

He couldn't fall asleep just to go through this dream again. He wouldn't be able to stand the hoarse, boundlessly deep voice of the Sith one more time. Wouldn't be able to stand watching the scenes in between those forcefields once again.

For a few wild moments in which he hadn't known whether he was awake or dreamt, he had hoped to be allowed to die with a desperate fervency. He would rather have died than have to witness what was standing before him in all its horrible glory -- his own fall. His soul, slipping to the dark side, betraying everything Qui-Gon had taught him.

Fear gnawed at him.

Could shame and fear kill? Were they strong enough to achieve that task? But weren't the same emotions the path to the dark side?

Emotions . . . It would be so much easier if he could just ignore them. They had been standing in his way all his life . . .

His meditation posture didn't change, he didn't feel his body, protesting against his motionlessness anymore, felt nothing but the unreal fear that - despite what had happened, despite the fact that he had been granted his knighthood - the dark side already had stretched its greedy hand out for him. He was afraid that he had reached for it in a moment of weakness - or was going to reach for it.

Afraid that acknowledging feelings - no matter of what kind - would finally cause his fall.

***

"We don't have the time for such petty things!"

Sabé restlessly paced the room, her face already painted white, while a handmaiden frantically sought to find the one dress appropriate for this special event among hundreds of elaborate dresses.

"A simple garment is more than sufficient. I know how Amidala would have decided!"

Impatiently she reached for the bulk of dresses and withdrew a high-necked, slim cut dress, moderately adorned with tucks, imitating the mossy green of the forests surrounding Theed and hiding her hands under semi transparent lace up to her knuckles.

"This one," she decided with a strong voice and got to the task of dressing herself.

Shaking her head, the handmaiden hurried over to the decoy queen and helped her close the complicated fastenings.

"You have to prepare yourself, Sabé," she reminded her gently. "There is a very real danger that this charade is uncovered if you don't have yourself in check. Talk to Eirtae before you leave."

Sabé pivoted and rewarded the other handmaiden with a cool gaze which caused the younger woman to recoil unconsciously.

"Are you suggesting that I stay here and wait until everything is set to perfection, while my people are out there, asking for their queen?" She paused for a split second when she realised that she had just spoken about her people.

But Rabé didn't seem to have noticed this slip, or she was trained too well to show it. So Sabé confined herself to opening the casket with the jewellery fitting to the dress and hoped that the jerky movement didn't seem to much like a diversionary tactic.

"Are you suggesting that I should rather look perfect than to help the people out there? This is no normal situation, Rabé. It calls for a quick action - and no delays."

The young woman turned her head away from the decoy ruler at the sharp rebuke, trying to hide her fiercely flushing face. Her dark hair slid shiny over the cowl of her scarlet cloak.

Sabé's words were filled with a passion and a sense of duty she had only heard from the queen herself before. Immediately Rabé regretted her careless comment. The other handmaiden was under much more pressure than she could ever imagine. It was not her, Rabé's, place to question the professionalism of the queen's representative.

"Forgive me."

Sabé's eyes rose from the casket for a moment and the hint of a smile flickered across her features. "We are all under a lot of pressure. Trust me, I would be the very last one who wouldn't understand that."

With slim fingers she singled out a tiara, adorned with emerald coloured gems, and donned it on a trial basis. Her eyes never left the younger handmaiden. "The fact that I understand it does not mean that I tolerate it." She realised that her tone had become sharper than she had intended. "We cannot afford making mistakes now, Rabé," she softened her previous words. "But wasting any more time on protocol questions would be a big mistake."

For a moment the younger handmaiden stood embarrassed in front of the slim, dark-haired woman who applied the dark red highlights on the white make-up with practised hands.

Sabé sensed the sudden unease of the younger woman and smiled broadly over the tip of one of the kohl pencils. "I'm not making this easy for you, am I?"

Rabé looked at Sabé for a few seconds, wondering if the immediate danger of putting her foot in it any deeper was over.

The she took the sparkling tiara out of Sabé's hands and resolutely put it on the dressing table, lined by dark marble. "At least let me bring your hair into a decent form!" She threw both of her hands into the air in a gesture of mock surrender. "I'm not asking for anything more."

***

She had seen him. During the night before Qui-Gon's cremation she had stood at the window of her room, looking down at him - a perfectly motionless figure in the bright moonlight which was casting sharp shadows on his care-worn face.

She had wondered how he could take it - standing there for so long, close to the open temple building in which Qui-Gon's lifeless body was waiting for his last journey. Standing there and not moving a single muscle during his vigil, perfect and motionless, like the statue of a man who had experienced too much pain to ever be able to cope with. A man who had already paid for all his future sins through this grief. The earth-shattering pain he exuded had muted the surrounding gardens and the happy songs of the freed Naboo.

When she looked at him now, she saw this picture again, standing sharply in front of her inner eye. While she, after she had presented her greetings to the new day in the main building of the temple, had sunk back to a comfortable position to watch him, he was still sitting in exactly the same posture, at exactly the same spot where he had settled hours ago. Painfully, she registered that her foot had fallen asleep and she untangled her legs overly careful from the lotus position, to reactivate the blood-flow. How could he possibly take this? An unbearable feeling of needles and pins of her coursed up her leg which had been motionless for so long and she grimaced. Padme didn't dare imagine what cramps Obi-Wan would encounter once he woke up from his rigidity. Was he even aware of his surroundings anymore?

It was not the first time she asked herself where he was right now.

Was he re-living the dream again? The dream which had tortured him so much that his mental screams had reached her before his verbal ones? The intense pain and the incredulity had left a soot-blackened trail inside of her - along all the places his emotions had surged through. They had involuntarily set her soul on fire, had caused so much pain that she had had no choice but to free him from the clutches of the nightmare. For his sake just as much as for hers.

But what now? Was he ever going to explain to her what had happened? How long would she have to wait to get an answer to those questions?

The picture of the Jedi in the middle of the friendly rays of the early morning sunlight held something unreal. He had chosen a place for his meditation where the sun would be shining all day long - always bathed in light, not a single shadow would touch the soft forest ground where Kenobi kneeled. She ruminated about the question whether he had chosen this spot on purpose.

Was he afraid of the dark?

***

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