Circle of healing

XIX.

It’s alright, just follow the light,

and don’t be afraid of the dark.

In the moonlight,

you’ll dance till you fall

and always be here in my heart.

(Fran Healy)

***

Her thoughts ran like pearls off a string. She wasn’t alone. She had help.

Was it at all possible that some of the darkness in Obi-Wan’s eyes had retreated?

The part of his soul not yet poisoned knew what was going to happen if help didn't come quickly. Darkness would vanquish: Darkness would vanquish light, once and for all. It would gain a powerful ally and devour his soul and pervert all which was sacred to him. Terror should have made him quiver. Instead the part of his soul which was still alive screamed like a wounded animal when the light slowly started to fade more and more.

Full of passion, Padme put all of her power into the task before her. If she concentrated hard enough, she might push the darkness back into its confines.

But it was hard, so exceedingly hard.

All but on their own, her hands stretched out towards him, palms turned up. She felt the old power controlling her movements, felt how much the physical nature of this gesture supported her mental fight.

Her body-language, her whole being sent him a single, unmistakable message: "Take my hand. Come to me. Just this one step."

The light had nearly vanished completely. The blazing fires of the dark side burned with black flames and licked at the last fortresses of his self. The murmuring found its way in and stretched out its feelers for the last glimmer of light in his soul. But suddenly grey veils moved over the brightness and the frenetic racing ebbed for a few moments. A rage-fuelled howling went through the bodiless voices. It rose even more when, all of a sudden, a delicate hand stretched out towards him in the darkness, surrounded by a bright dance of light. He shrank back from the light and was tempted to lash out at it and extinguish it with a swift dark impulse, but the tiny part of his soul which hadn’t fallen to the dark side yet clung to the hand, searched for help, knew about the goodness, the hope. Hope. Hope was something the dark side couldn’t give. He reached for the light and started pulling himself out of the quagmire of lies.

The unbelieving screams of the bodiless voices, insane with fury became ear-splitting when they realised that they had lost.

After a seemingly endless period of time she saw him walk up to her – as though starting an infinite journey in which one step lasted as long as thousands.

Piece by piece his soul was being released, put back together. He was being born again. Created anew. Brought back to his old self.

During this time the invisible chains which had bound him and made him overlook the obvious disintegrated.

His dilemma had not been his alleged weakness. It had been his misunderstood strength, his pride. Those fell away from him now, left him behind weak, but cleansed. His legs gave way beneath him and he sank to his knees in front of Padme.

The light still surrounded her, shining from inside of her. It stretched out softly and shrouded him as well. But that was not what he needed now. He needed human nearness and warmth.

She lowered her hand onto his head and left it there.

Obi-Wan's arms wrapped around Padme’s legs and he hid his face in the creases in her tunics in a desperate search for security, feeling the warmth of her body, her hand on his head. Fears slowly left him and the darkness gave way to the warm light emanating from her. He clung to her delicate body like a drowning man.

Here was reality. Here he was safe.

***

Sabé stared just in the same direction Eirtae was looking. The handmaiden shook with indignation. She had already ventured a determined step just in the healer’s direction when Sabé’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Wait."

Eirtae’s gaze flew to Sabé and fixed on her, appalled.

The queen’s locum tenens ignored this glance and walked a few more steps into the street. "Something is wrong. She's not even looking where she's going."

The delicate figure under the wide blue cloak stumbled and straightened up only half-heartedly. Her steps lost strength by the minute.

Sabé turned to look for the bodyguards and realised that they were stationed several metres away to give her a little more privacy.

Her danger sense tingled in her neck. The warrior inside of her was aware of every detail in her surroundings. An ambush?

She dismissed the thought quickly. No, that wasn’t it. Something else made her heart race. Ire towards herself rose inside. Why couldn’t she pinpoint where the danger was coming from?

The healer stumbled again and a forceful gust of wind, howling though the row of shattered houses, blew away the cloak’s cowl. Black hair came into view, barely reaching over the ears. A fine, pale, apathetic face.

A novice!

Over their heads a landing transporter roared. Her eyes followed it for a few seconds. Then they fixed on a stone archway. When the roar of the transporter dissipated, the harshly grating sound of stone against stone became audible. Rubble had piled up high on the archway – but it was starting to shift.

Her gaze flew back to the novice. Didn’t she hear anything? Didn’t she see?

The fragile girl stumbled on, impassively, completely blind and deaf to her surroundings.

"Healer novice, stop this instant!" Sabé’s voice cut through the smoky air like a whip-crack and the armed men and women of the bodyguard pivoted.

But the girl showed no reaction.

The grating and groaning noises of the overloaded archway grew louder. Still the novice moved towards it.

***

The last orange-red rays of the evening sun filtered warmly through the open door of the sleeping quarters. The heat of the day was slow to leave and denied the two occupants of the room the pleasure of a cooling breeze.

Limping slightly, Padme led Obi-Wan carefully to his bed and motioned for him to sit down. He followed her veiled order hesitantly. They hadn’t said a word, but unlike the days before, this silence wasn’t unpleasant but reassuring. Slowly his troubled thoughts calmed.

"Obi-Wan?" Her warm voice slowly penetrated his mind and he raised his eyes. Padme had stepped soundlessly towards the door and watched him, worried. "When was the last time you ate? It must have been days ago."

Obi-Wan’s mind tripped over the inane question. Eat?

"Yes, eat."

A slim, surprised frown appeared on his face when he realised that he must have voiced his last thought.

"I don’t think the Council would forgive me if I let you starve out here."

Her words were forcedly cheerful and belied her eyes. His gaze flew to her clasped hands and their white knuckles. Was she afraid?

"I . . . I’m going to get you something to eat now." With careful backwards steps she retreated further and further, until her feet touched the doorstep. "You need to eat, you need to . . ."

"No!" His suppressed cry caused her to freeze. Uneasily her gaze flitted back to him.

"Don’t leave." Obi-Wan reached out his hand for her. "Please don’t go away now."

***

As quick as lightning, Sabe estimated the distance between her bodyguard and the novice. There was no realistic chance that they would manage to save the girl from herself in time. Eirtae was a counsellor, but had no training to adequately cope with situations like this.

Sabé turned her head towards the handmaiden and hissed or her shoulder: "Distract the bodyguards. I don’t care how, but divert their attention. They must not look over here."

"Mistress, I don’t think that this is . . ."

"Now!" Sabé thundered.

Her voice allowed no dissent and Eirtae hurried to perform her task.

While the younger woman effectively distracted the bodyguard, Sabé sprinted over the rubble-covered street as fast as her tight gown allowed.

First stones started falling out of the archway. The girl stopped for a moment to stare at the far-splashing pieces of debris, but then resumed walking.

***

His pleading look melted Padme’s heart. Slowly, step by step she walked up to him.

In front of his bed she hesitated.

Why was her heart beating so hard?

Why did his gaze pierce into her soul?

Fear tingled in her neck like tiny, icy-cold grains of hail. She sat down next to him awkwardly and clasped her hands in her lap tightly again. A timid smile flitted over her face when she turned towards him, her mouth already opened to speak.

But Obi-Wan’s eyes were closed already. Carefully, as though not to hurt her, he let himself sink until his head rested in her lap. A silent sigh raised his chest and she could feel his warm breath through the material of her tunic.

Padme stiffened for a few moments, but then she reluctantly started to run her hands through his short hair. A smile flitted over her face when she looked down at him. He was going to need a haircut soon.

Her movements became softer, more calm and natural. Warm, gentle caresses, seeking to soothe his troubled soul.

Padme felt Obi-Wan gliding into a peaceful slumber. His arm on her knee became more heavy and his hand relaxed. A torrent of infinite affection washed over her.

For the first time she allowed herself to scrutinise him carefully.

Honey-blonde hair, nearly shimmering a little red. Broad, arched eyebrows in the same colour. Long lashes, casting soft shadows on his cheeks. Pale skin, which had taken on a golden hue since they'd been out here. A high, strong forehead, showing first signs of frown lines. Narrow, soft lips.

Soft?

Padme shook herself out of her reverie with great effort.

Soft?

Where had that thought come from?

Her gaze was glued to his lips once again. A slight blush coloured her cheeks when she recalled how close they had come during their innocent, childlike play in the hot spring. Only a few breaths had parted them and they would have . . .

She squashed the thought abruptly when she realised that her hand was hovering only a few millimetres over his lips. What was she doing here?

Unexpectedly her shaking hand was engulfed by his big one at just that moment and pressed possessively against his chest.

Padme’s heart raced and her mouth went dry. Blood shot into her cheeks. Hot-cold shivers ran over her.

Seconds stretched into hours until she realised that Obi-Wan had seized her hand in his sleep. She released a shaky breath and smiled. Her relief was so complete that it weakened Padme.

Fatigue gnawed at her.

Getting up and going to bed was impossible. Movements were impossible since she didn’t want to disturb his direly needed sleep.

For a while she fought herself.

But when Obi-Wan’s steady breathing and the slowly fading light of the day cocooned her, she submitted, bent forward and placed her cheek on his shoulder. Her warm breath caressed his face.

Padme was asleep within a matter of minutes.

***

Sabé reached her at the very last moment, scooping the girl into her arms and racing away from the thunderously crashing archway into the passage where she had been resting shortly before. Thick clouds of dust dimmed the floodlights.

The bodyguards who had been distracted by Eirtae just moments ago were at her side in an instant, shielding her from possible dangers.

Sabé didn’t pay heed to them. She sat the girl down on the block of ferrocrete softly and turned towards Eirtae.

"Send for Rabé. She is to find the priestess in charge of this novice."

With a wave of her hand she dismissed the guards and cast a quick, appreciative glance in Eirtae’s direction. The handmaiden looked behind that glance and moved a few polite metres away as well.

"What is your name, healer novice?"

The girl’s bright blue eyes fastened on Sabé, frightened. The thin, pale face was grey. Tears had left bright streaks on her cheeks.

For a while she simply stared at the alleged queen, then she sank to one knee and lowered the dark head. "Naara, Mistress."

Sabé lightly lifted the girl’s chin and softly beckoned her to raise her head.

"Why didn’t you listen to our calls, Naara?" she asked softly.

The novice didn’t avert her gaze and Sabé saw such a deep hopelessness in the bright eyes that the sight made her heart bleed.

"I can’t help anyone," Naara whispered, barely audible. "No one would miss me. I am a disgrace for the healer temple. I couldn’t save her . . ." Fresh tears welled up and rolled over the dusty cheeks.

Sabé crouched in front of the girl abruptly, seized the slim shoulders and held her tear-filled gaze. "Listen to me carefully, Naara. Every hand is needed. Every hand is important and indispensable. You are a healer-novice, and your help is even more significant. But no one, not even the one with the best training is perfect. No one is perfect."

"But you . . . you are . . ." Naara’s choked voice was interrupted before she could finish the sentence.

"No, child. I’m not perfect either. But I don’t give up. Life has to go on. Defeats must not knock you down. Every day is followed by another one. You need to fight, overcome yourself. Once you have managed that, you will see that you are much more important than you think now."

A babble of voices behind her prompted Sabé to stand quickly and give up on the familiar attitude towards the novice.

A young novice with shoulder length, dark hair hurried behind a small, somewhat round priestess. When they came closer, Sabé recognised Reaja.

Both of them bowed deeply before the queen and received the fragile novice who was by now shaking from exhaustion. Reaja exchanged a quick look with Sabé, smiled warmly and said: "Thank you, your Majesty."

Sabé inclined her head slightly and thus dismissed the woman.

They retreated quickly. Halfway, Naara turned around again. They eyes met mutely. Sabé placed a hand on her chest and lightly tapped the meanwhile dusty bodice of her gown.

‘Strength, child.’

Naara nodded and finally turned to go.

***

It had been a long time since Obi-Wan Kenobi had last woken up without freezing. The cold had found a place in his body, so much that he barely even noticed it anymore. The difference was all the more significant now. Warmth surrounded him – soft and alive, accompanied by a floral scent which was very familiar to him by now.

His deep breathing broke the silence.

His sense of time had left him. Night or day? Finding out would have required opening his eyes, something Obi-Wan direly wanted to avoid. He didn’t want to leave this tender cocoon of security and warmth.

Padme’s breath moved his hair and caressed his face gently. In her current position her soft female forms pressed snugly against his back and side. Her open hair fanned over his shoulder and poured over their intertwined hands. He couldn’t recall have reached for it, but the feel of his cool skin against the warmth of hers brought peace to him. The warmth of her palm penetrated the material of his tunics and chased away the coolness. He couldn’t say when he had last felt so safe and accepted.

She carried the scent of white flowers with her.

She always carried it with her – in her hair, her skin, her gowns. He could have been blind, deaf – Obi-Wan always would have recognised her from this smell only.

When he tried hard, he could find out more. Her aura radiated so much that he could see even without the help of the force, if only he allowed it. Melancholy. Sadness. Determination. Power. Tiny pieces of perfect happiness she didn’t want to admit to herself completely.

Obi-Wan awkwardly moved his arm which had lain under his head and had fallen asleep, and was getting painfully numb by now.

His heart beat fast and he could hear the blood rushing in his veins when he picked up on her quiet, sleepy sigh. Carefully, with a pang of regret, he blinked over his shoulder and kept perfectly unmoving, as though frozen in Carbonite, when her eyes fluttered shortly. But her quiet breathing didn’t change and her features relaxed again. She hadn’t woken and he would do anything to keep it that way.

Cautiously he turned his head and nestled his cheek back into the soft material of her tunic.

Padmé. Constant enigma.

Thoughts raced inside his head.

Oh, he had thought this through. Had racked his brains about how to rebuild what was lying in piles of debris around him. Long meditations would bring a better understanding of his nightmares, even though their message still sent cold sweat to his forehead.

Just what had made him believe the fight with himself was over? It never would be. He would never completely vanquish the dark impulses inside of him.

Never. The dark side was seductive, and he would always have to watch out.

Padme had asked him to hate her. One last attempt to break the silence.

Her words had moved him deeply. But it had been the things she had done, her completely altruistic self-sacrifice which had frightened him as much as it had filled him with a deep admiration. She was ready to give up everything. For him.

But why? Why was she doing this?

Her magnanimity and her will to sacrifice everything humbled him and made him think over the situation from another angle. How could he sink so deep into his own pain and his problems without seeing what it did to her?

While he closed his eyes again and relaxed his muscles in his neck a little, he though back to one of the past evenings. She had thought that he wasn’t paying attention to her . . . How wrong she had been in some aspects.

Through the thick wafts of mist he had seen her only vaguely. Her slender figure had kneeled at the edge of the basin. The dress had gracefully hugged her narrow hips and had flooded around her like molten evening light.

Back then he couldn’t have cared less – he'd been too immersed in fighting his own demons.

Looking back, it surprised him what poetic thoughts she roused in him. Qui-Gon’s love for poetry must have rubbed off on him, Obi-Wan realised with a quiet smile.

Qui-Gon . . .

Obi-Wan was fairly certain what his mentor would have thought about this particular situation. He knew exactly how high his Master would have raised the quirky left brow – an aristocratic bow, arching over the midnight-blue eyes. Those eyes would have sparkled with amusement and warmth here and now. Oh no, never would Qui-Gon Jinn have commented on this out loud – not in a situation like this. But certainly this would have been one of the moments in which – over their bond - he would have reminded his Padawan of the living Force.

"You can’t grasp everything with your mind, Padawan. There are times in which the mind has to be quiet in order to listen to what the heart says. "

He could almost see Qui-Gon’s smirking face when he thought back to this often repeated sentence. The bittersweet pain which came along with this memory only strengthened Obi-Wan’s decision.

Carefully he opened his eyes again. Night had sunk around the temple, shrouding it. In the soft, never subsiding glow of the sleeping chamber, Padme’s hair shone and her face looked fragile enough to be fairylike. The full lips were opened slightly. The scent of the white flowers swathed her unobtrusively.

How much had she been ready to give up on for him? She had jumped from this temple-building . . . He didn’t even want to imagine what would have happened had her calculation only been a little bit off. The torrent of fierce worry and the urge to protect her from all dangers was overwhelming.

His hand involuntarily grasped hers more tightly and she sighed again in her sleep. Unconsciously she increased her gentle hold around his chest.

Who was protecting whom here? An honest, gentle smile stole forth on Obi-Wan’s features.

She was closer to him than ever before. Her warm breath still caressed his face. Without him asking for it, his gaze locked on her sleeping face and his heartbeat increased. A light blush crept over his cheeks. Did she know that she was beautiful?

Would she ever know if he . . . His heart stop for a few beats as he juggled the thought which had just crossed his mind. She was the queen. A sleeping queen. He was a Jedi-knight. Two worlds collided, different as they could possibly be. Nevertheless . . . A sleeping queen. Who would never find out if he . . .

Slowly he turned, scrutinising even the smallest of changes in her face.

When he thought his heart had to be thumping loud enough for her to hear it, he mustered his last shred of courage and raised his head. His lips whispered over hers for the blink of an eye. And for this single moment he didn’t care how wrong it was.

***

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