Circle of healing

XVIII.

Don't look just run away.

Go, suffocate

and choke your own cry

(Lisa Loeb)

***

Obi-Wan was abruptly jerked out of his meditation and out of the continuing intransigence of his trance. He felt the veil which had been cast over his bond to Padme lift for just one blink of an eye. He felt disbelief, despair and . . . fear. Fear which made him gasp for breath. A whole host of emotions, hurting him after his voluntary abstinence. What was she doing? A single moment later he was on his feet. Without thinking he allowed their bond to lead him in the right direction with a sleepwalking certainty.

Nevertheless it took a few seconds for his mind to register what his eyes were seeing. Waves of dizzying fear rolled over him and stole precious seconds.

When he was finally able to act, he saw Padme taking the last step and falling. Narrow trees with dense foliage blocked his view of the place where she must have tumbled down.

While his body moved faster than he could imagine, his mind seemed to limp behind. Unusually violently he pushed aside twigs and foliage.

***

Sabé carefully set her feet onto dusty soil. The stench of burned woord and molten transpariplast rose from the ground, hung in the air and penetrated clothes. The clouds of smoke had dissipated thanks to the fine misty rain early this morning, but wisps of smoke were still rising from the rubble.

It was a ghost city, inhabited by hundreds of exhausted, grey spectres -- with huge eyes which saw nothing but the people in dire need of their help, right in front of them. The helpers performed a seemingly impossible duty.

Sabé saw a small group of healers whose robes seemed fresher than the ones of the others. They had arrived here later, and with an unpleasantly queasy feeling to her stomach she realised who those women were. The soul healers -- called to help the ones who had lost friends or relatives, and the ones who still had no confirmation as to whether their families had survived or not. Her steps dragged as the load on her shoulders became heavier by the minute. She had seen so much suffering. So much suffering, yet pride and hope shone in the people's eyes when she personally gave her condolences to the city's inhabitants.

Sabé felt like a traitor.

Those people had gained strength from the queen's presence, hadn't felt so horribly lost and alone. She had stood beside so many stretchers and had placed her hand on foreheads. She had spoken so many blessings, listened to so many pleas for help, had spoken so many consolatory words.

With every single word, the empty feeling in her soul had grown, as she had realised that those people had no idea they were being cheated. They were longing for the queen, and getting only a double in diguise. Sabé felt sick to her stomach.

With a sigh of relief she spotted a narrow trail between two shattered buildings. The daylight waned slowly and was replaced by glaring floodlights which didn't quite reach this passage, leaving it in a hazy semi-darkness. No city residents, healers or military task forces were working here and Sabé sank onto a block of ferrocrete with weak knees. The fact that she hadn't eaten since the early hours of the morning came back to her mind abruptly when she stared at her trembling hands.

"Mistress?"

Sabé raised her head, exhausted, and turned towards the handmaiden who had spoken.

Why didn't Amidala react? It wasn't like her to wait that long until answering . . .

With a suppressed groan Sabé buried her face in the hands and trusted the handmaidens to shield her from curious eyes. Her lack of sleep became distinctly noticeable. This glitch, even though it had only taken place in her mind, was an evident sign that her powers were waning.

Slowly she pulled her hands away from her face and stared at the white streaks in the palms. Eirtae's voice softly reached her ear, sending Rabé away to find a healer.

Gathering all her strength, Sabé squared her shoulders and sat up once again -- and was captured by the worried brown eyes of the handmaiden standing opposite her.

"You should rest and have something to eat, your Majesty," Eirtae admonished her softly, careful not to expose the charade. Sabé could read honest concern in her eyes.

"I can't, Eirtae," she whispered back. "You know that I can't. I am needed out here."

A barely visible furrow of disapproval appeared over Eirtae's nose. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed to her that they were out of hearing range of the handmaidens and bodyguards and she whispered: "A queen who collapses from exhaustion does not comfort the citizens at all."

Sabe's gaze flared with ire and the other handmaiden automatically stepped back.

***

An iridescent bug made its way through lush green grass, sent tiny grains of sand into motion and caused weak shudders to move up to the tips of the grass. Its polished shell shone in the dull sunlight. Tiny feelers were put out in order to investigate the bright object in its way - and were pulled back, startled, when the object suddenly moved.

Padme squinted through half-opened eyes into the fading light and carefully moved her feet. The movement was possible, but the pain it caused made absolutely clear to her that she wouldn't be doing an escapade like this again any time soon.

'Do you feel this, too?' she thought grimly.

She wasn't sure just how much of their bond had remained, but those last days had been anything but beneficial to the ritual, and she couldn't imagine any progress had been made. So why shouldn't she let him feel her displeasure?

With a slight feeling of satisfaction she heard twigs being pushed roughly aside and steps closing in on her.

His breathing sounded laboured. His steps heavy. His movements jerky.

In the very last moment she extinguished the satisfied smile playing around her lips and closed her eyes.

Not a second later she felt Obi-Wan falling to his knees next to her and touching her face with shaking hands. Cool against her warm skin. Damp.

"Padme!"

The panic in his voice was heart-breaking and she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Can you hear me? P . . . please say something."

Deliberately slow she opened her eyes, managed an afflicted smile and whispered a weak: "Ouch." When she was already doing everything in her power to shake him out of his stupor, she could at least stay honest.

Immediately he realised that she couldn't be severely injured and just followed his heart - scooping her into a embrace which was so tight that she could barely breathe.

Big hands caressed the back of her head and pulled her flush against his shoulder. For a few moments Padme enjoyed this closeness and pressed her face into the folds of his rough tunic. She enjoyed his promixity without thinking; the hard planes of his body, the smell of the fresh tunic he had donned this morning, his hands, holding her possessively.

"I thought something terrible had happened to you." Slowly but steadily, the distressed, raucous whisper entered her warm cocoon of safety and security.

The muscles in her neck stiffened. Anger wandered over her scalp, prickly hot. With a determined gesture she moved out of his embrace and held him at arms' length. A cool gaze drilled into his eyes.

"You don't get it, do you? Nothing ever happens. Since the day we arrived here nothing has happened. We're not moving at all. You isolate yourself. Is there anything which exists outside your world? When was the last time you actually noticed me? Does my life have to be in danger for you to notice my presence?"

His hands fell away quickly from her shoulder - as though he had burned them. She could almost watch the single pieces of the mosaic forming a complete picture in his mind. Disappointment and bitterness painted a dark cloud on his face.

"You . . . You did . . ."

Obi-Wan stopped. It was too obvious. What his heart hadn't wanted to believe when he had seen it, was made painfully clear by his mind.

She had jumped. Jumped out of her free will, to break down his reserve. She was mocking him. Making a fool out of him.

Well-known feelings welled up inside of him and he didn't succeed in pushing them back. With a forceful movement he rose and planted himself in front of her - very aware of the fact that he was looming over her like a threatening shadow.

For a short period of time he fought himself, balled his hands to fists and tried fighting the dormant flood of emotions. But the change from boundless worry to naked disillusionment had been too fast, the revelation too painful.

Could he hold himself back? Did he still want to?

"Have you lost your mind?!" A tiny part of him felt satisfaction upon seeing her flinch at his sharp tone of voice, and gaze at him in confusion.

'Didn't he understand anything at all?' Resignation weighed her down.

Her reproachful gaze fuelled his anger.

"You really think all of this was a game for her royal highnesses amusement, am I right? Well? Are you having fun?" Fine pinpricks, exactly placed. He hadn't known he was capable of so much cynicism.

Padme rose with august slowness and calm. Her placidness should have warned him. Should have made him suspicious. The forceful slap of her slim hand caught him totally by surprise.

Confused, incensed and strangely fascinated all at the same time, he touched his cheek. Had she really just slapped him? The stinging pain in his cheek verified the seemingly impossible deed. She had slapped him? Padmé?

The flicker in her eyes made him hesitate.

"No, wait! That's not it. No game, correct? You had all of this planned. Thought out to the finest of details. Calculated." Triumphantly, he flung his new-found awareness into her face. "Now I know why they elected you queen. Not because you can pretend to be cold and calculating so well . . ." His icy stare made Padme wish she'd never provoked him. " . . . Oh no." Obi-Wan laughed humourlessly and bent down to her a little, a hard smile on his lips. "'It's because you are. Cold. Calculating. Only thinking about yourself. You have asked yourself why you are so alone? Here is your answer: In here . . . ," he brought his face to one height with hers and thrust two fingers ruthlessly into her chest, "is nothing but ice."

The force of the words, the accusation and the unfairness in them caused Padme to stagger slightly. Who was this man, standing in front of her? Those words, deliberately spoken to hurt her deeply, couldn't have come from the Jedi-Knight she had come to know. That man had oozed gentleness and understanding, whereas the man in front of her flung nothing but icy disdain at her.

Padme squared her shoulders. "If it were as you say," she answered with a cool calm that surprised her, "I wouldn't have jumped. But how could you see that . . ." She couldn't quite hide a light tremor when she placed her hand on his chest. "When in here . . . is fear."

His gaze dropped to her hand. Slim and fragile on his chest. An impulse caused him to raise his gaze again and look into her eyes. What he saw shimmering there made it clear what he had said to her. What he had done to her with his words. How he had hurt her.

The warmth of her hand seemed to penetrate his tunic and burn him. Slowly he moved away from her.

The laughter came suddenly, unexpected and soaked with scorn and satisfaction. Horrified, Obi- Wan turned to search for the origin of the voice. To his terror he realised that nothing in her tired features indicated that she even heard the laughter.

His panic-stricken gaze, scurrying back and forth, came to rest on her. He saw her lips moving. But her words remained a barely audible whisper which was drowned by the boundless, sardonic laughter.

"Did you hear what the child just said, little Jedi? You know the way: Anger. Hate. Suffering. The other side. No morals, no worries, no laws, no pain. A beautiful place . . ."

"QUIET!" Obi-Wan's scream cut through both of the voices and immediately there was a deathly silence.

After a small eternity he heard Padme inhale shakily. He looked at her, intent on perceiving her, and her alone, without being disturbed again.

This beautiful face in front of him . . . The lower lip quivered slightly. The eyes were big and accusingly frightened. How could she dare look at him like that? Why didn't she avert those accusing eyes? He didn't want her sympathy, her accusations, her doubt, her help--especially not her well-meaning but entirely useless help. Not anymore! If she couldn't make the Sith grow quiet, he didn't need her anymore.

***

Eirtae remained in careful attention. She should have known better than to try to make decisions for Sabé, and her heart, pounding against her ribcage uncomfortably strongly made that fact more than clear.

Once more she asked herself whether Sabé knew just how alike she was to Amidala. Even the icy glare and the power to demand respect without asking for it was personified in the other handmaiden.

Nonetheless Eirtae knew when she was right.

The silent dispute between the two women lasted only a few seconds. Then a slight smile appeared on the white face -- completely uncharacteristic for Amidala and belonging solely to Sabé. It disappeared quickly, but Eirtae's tense posture relaxed. She was glad that Sabé had taken her words the right way. The handmaiden was far from wanting to treat the queen's locum tenens like a child, but she couldn't allow Sabé to overtax herself so much that she collapsed. She herself felt exhaustion deadening all of her limbs. Sabé had to be almost suffocating in the tightly laced up dress and the many layers of fabric.

Quickly she turned around and stepped out of the passage to watch for Rabé. The younger handmaiden had been gone far too long. Somewhere in this area there had to be a healer . . . A blue-grey spot of colour on the edge of her visual field suddenly caught her attention. Behind her she heard the rustling of many layers of fabric and knew that Sabé had risen.

Eirtae shook her head inwardly. 'No less stubborn than Amidala.' A wry smile flickered over her face when she turned towards the dusty blue of the healer's robe.

The hood was turned up and the small woman dragged her feet through the inch deep dust.

"Healer!" Eirtae called respectfully over the rubble-covered street. Her voice echoed on the shattered walls and died as a whisper. The woman in the blue robes didn't even move her head. Eirtaes eyebrows furrowed. Hadn't the healer heard her, or didn't she want to hear her? Again she called: "Healer, the royal guard needs your help!"

The dragging steps slowed down for a moment and the still unrecognisable woman turned partly in her direction. The shoulders dropped a little more and then she resumed walking her way, without stopping.

The handmaiden felt slight ire rising inside of her. Weren't the healers obligated to help? How could she dare not heed the queen's call?

Her gaze followed the blue-robed figure in disbelief.

***

What Padme read in his eyes made her shrink back. Nothing was left of the lucidity of former days. Darkness and chaos swirled in them, uncontrolled. His pupils dilated, and began to absorb the bright green-blue of his iris greedily, like a black hole, devouring burning stars. A cold tingling coursed through her body when she felt this incredible power reaching into her. She had asked him to hate her.

Hate. Clear and pure like hot, spiced wine. An addictive drug, granting unknown powers. Rough places on his soul became smooth again. Problems solved themselves. Hate. He only needed to give in to gain the vast power. The possibility fluttered seductively in front of him and he stretched out his hands, reluctantly.

Had she ever been clear about the implications of her demand?

She retreated another step and uttered a choked: "You're frightening me."

Fear? What was the meaning of this word? A feeling, if he recalled correctly. Fear lead to the dark side. But how could he separate light and dark when he couldn't feel anymore? When everything was numb? When the soul withered? What difference did it make which side he decided on? Stoically and painfully lonely without emotions, every flicker of a feeling provided alleviation. Even fear, the foreign fear, the trepidation of causing her to dread him was better than this lack of emotions. Everything was better, even darkness. He only needed to hold on to this fear.

Light and dark blurred into a diffuse grey.

The sentenced echoed in her for a long time while she tried to calm her trembling hands. Fear. She had seen what fear could do. Had seen very clearly how it could change an individual, distort it beyond recognition, until only a fraction of what it had once been existed.

This fear was now about to take her over. She couldn't accept that. Mustn't accept that. She was the queen, she had been elected into this position for a reason.

Her thoughts lost some of their frenzied speed and started proceeding more calmly again. A look into his eyes showed her that there was barely a slim ring of the blue-green iris left. Still visible, but just about to be devoured completely. This tiniest of moments ignited her fighting spirit. She was not going to let that happen. She couldn't allow him to dive headlong into disaster and be consumed by the dark side.

With a deep intake of breath she transfixed his gaze. Icy shivers crept over her, but she ignored them steadfastly.

Warm, seductive arms cradled him and pulled him into the depths. Darkness had reached him. Bodiless voices were whispering, enticing, promising. They showed him pictures of frightening beauty -- experiences, rising far beyond the five senses and seizing him like a tiny leave in a storm with their fierceness. The fever of the dark side swept over him and swathed him. Deep inside of him something screamed against the roaring of the darkness, warned him. He was about to lose himself. Only a tiny part of him realised this fact. Yet the pull of evil was almost insurmountable. He was being accepted unconditionally -- no rebukes, no sneering remarks, no doubts. He had felt it when he had vanquished the Sith. And if he had accepted it earlier, Qui- Gon would still be alive now. It was like coming home. He was the lost child, alienated from its family, and now he was returning home. Darkness to darkness. Shadows to shadows.

This wasn't only her fate any longer. It was his, and it was in her power to change it.

Warm and calm, she felt a wave of faith rising inside of her. A force well known to her. Old. Ancient. Yet familiar and not intimidating.

"DON'T GIVE UP ON HIM, CHILD OF MY SOUL. HE NEEDS YOU."

***

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