Master Apprentice
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(continued from part 1)
With Lure gone for the evening, Mekall prepared and ate nightmeal, out of necessity not interest. When it was finished, he went to the workshop. He had a project that he owed Fhesh Deoen and two disks of new information he had procured to help him crack one of the government's military systems which he was well on his way to decoding. However, it seemed the harder he concentrated, the less he accomplished. He put the work aside and walked back up the hall to the study.
There was nothing on the net that held his interest and he had seen all the vidisks they owned. Besides, he always watched them with Hilty. The idea of watching one alone only drove home his disquiet, reminding him why he was trying not to think. He decided to look for something to read.
Up in his room, Mekall located a holoreader he had left aside days earlier. He flopped down on his back on the bed and cued up the magazine he had been reading. Then he got up and closed the bedroom door. He lay back down on the bed and made an effort to involve himself in an article, only to succeed and worry that, with his door closed, he would not hear if trouble arose in the other room. So he got up, opened the door and lay down on the bed once again to read.
A few minutes later, he caught himself staring stupidly at the mag in his hands, having read the same paragraph five times and not retained a word of it. Where is my head? he groused at himself. Bowing to the inevitable, he went to check on the Jedi.
No change.
He went back to his bedroom, picked up the mag, brought it into the spare room and sat down in the chair farthest from the bed. He cued up the page again, glanced at Obi-Wan and found that was where his attention had stayed when, some minutes later, the reader beeped to inquire whether he wished it to stay on line. He tossed it aside with annoyance.
Mekall walked slowly to the bedside. Standing beside the young Jedi, his absorption turned to agitation. Before he knew it, Mekall had raised his fist to strike. Regaining control, he held himself in steely check, but as his tension increased, he found tears were flowing down his cheeks. He sank to the bed, silently giving in to his thirteen year old self's long denied pain. When he had cried himself out, he centered and went into meditation to prepare to try some healing on Obi-Wan.
Which was exactly where Lure found Mekall in the morning, sleeping, nestled against the Jedi as if physically lending him the strength to heal. The following morning, the same.
Lure kept his growing concern to himself. By tacit agreement, he went about his work, fed and tended Obi-Wan. When Lure was around, Mekall acted as if the young man did not exist.
When he arrived the next morning, Lure knew he had to do something. He had been heartened by not finding Mekall asleep on the stranger's bed. That evaporated when he went into Mekall's room.
Mekall was out cold on his own bed wearing yesterday's coveralls and his work boots.
"Mekall," Lure nudged his boss' arm.
"Hm?" Mekall awoke muzzily. "Mm," he rumbled in acknowledgment of Lure, coming more awake.
He stood up, swaying, dark circles under his eyes, the tops of his black coveralls flopping about his waist and the unbuckled fastenings of his boots clicking around his ankles.
Lure could not help shaking his head in dismay. The young man in the other room was getting healthy. The fever had passed. His bruises and wounds grew lighter each day; many were gone altogether. Mekall, meanwhile, was exhausted, distracted, and his hand had turned a distinctly unhealthy color overnight while swelling up like a trayshon's mit. Lure had seen Mekall do plenty of inexplicable things, but never at the expense of his own well-being.
Mekall brushed past Lure out of the room. Lure remained in the bedroom, preparing himself to righteously, if respectfully, talk some sense into his boss. Knock some sense into him, if need be. By the time Lure got to the stairs, Mekall was concluding a call to Yls. When he came back up, Lure followed him to his bedroom hoping for an explanation.
"You might as well go home, Lu," Mekall said, sitting down on the bed heavily. He ran his index finger up the center of his forehead and pressed his palm there in its wake.
"There's not . . ." Mekall began, "I mean, I'm not . . . I'm . . . just . . . tired," he finished feebly.
Lure gave him a 'no fooling' look.
Mekall smiled wanly and sighed. "It's like the air isn't made of the same stuff it was a few days ago," he remarked.
Lure started to say something sarcastic and thought better of it. He ran his hand over his stubbled chin and a snort of stretched patience escaped him. Mekall gazed up at him, uncharacteristic need written all over his face.
"Tell you what," Lure offered, "let me make you something to eat. I'll feed the ghost and then I'll go out and give the compressors a once-over."
Mekall nodded his thanks, aware Lure was looking for an excuse to stay.
Lure went down to the galley and fixed a light meal. While Mekall ate, Lure fed Obi-Wan. Then he went to the workshop to get his tools and outdoor gear. He noticed a space on the shelves where the extron should have been. He meant to go back to the galley to ask where the device had gone, but his question was answered on his way when he spotted the machine set up in Mekall and Hilty's study.
Lure's eyes shot automatically up toward the spare room. Hasn't the guy been through enough? he thought. What could Mekall hope to accomplish by messing with his head?
After eating, Mekall went back upstairs not sure what he intended to do. One look in the bedroom mirror told him what was needed. He went into the 'fresher, emerging looking and feeling somewhat less like death warmed over. Mekall tried to tend his sick-looking hand. He found he did not have the energy and decided to sleep for a bit. When he woke, he did the healing on his hand, used Yls' salve on it and replaced the psuedoskin. Tempering his impatience for the healer's arrival, Mekall went into the other bedroom.
He sat on the side of the bed near the window, the opposite side to that which he had occupied for the past two nights. He spent a time looking at the Jedi's face. It was almost free of the marks of his beating. Still too vulnerable, but he was beautiful, with his finely arched russet eyebrows and the cleft in his chin. Even that awful haircut did nothing to diminish his good looks.
Obi-Wan's eyes were open, his face seemingly placid in repose. He had showed no signs at all of regaining consciousness. That, as much as anything, had set Mekall's decision in his mind.
Late the night before, Mekall had been broken from his healing trance by the pain in his hand. Angered by how little he recognized his actions of late, he went downstairs to put distance between himself and the Jedi.
Mekall cast his mind over the time, trying to pinpoint how and when he had lost the upper hand. The more he tried to stay away from Obi-Wan, the more strongly he was drawn to him. Mekall's head told him the Jedi could lie there, that he did not know or care why he had carried out the rescue. His soul seemed to have a different opinion. He had to get this guy out of his house.
More out of habit than intent, he drifted into meditation. Fed up with being buffeted by forces beyond his command, Mekall quickly broke from it. Still he could not stop his mind sifting through the events of the last few days. He had gone on a pity run for Hilty. An errand, nothing more. In, out, have a nice life. Now he was sinking into a quagmire of memories he did not want and could not use, face to face with a past he had disavowed.
Mekall stalked to the workshop, determined to lose himself in something physical, something solid. As he entered the shop, his eyes wandered over the shelves of spare parts, old work and disused equipment, the way you look at things you see every day but no longer truly notice. That was when it came to him how to make this go away. The extron. Dusty under its protective covering, all but forgotten, the machine occupied an out of the way shelf. His expression changing from agitation to calm, Mekall bypassed getting the ladder and climbed right up onto the worktable to retrieve what felt like his salvation.
On this morally ambiguous world, Mekall had thrived by being able to do whatever was needed and do it well, for those who could afford the best. Over the years, he had done everything from bodyguarding to demolitions work. Brainwashing had been his specialty. Mekall had worked for the planet's most powerful families. He had made a small fortune kidnapping and mindshifting politicians from the central government's often collapsing parliament.
Mind work had been the perfect field. It utilized his warrior's skills and his tech and Force abilities. It had also served as a powerful outlet for his anger and his resentment of authority. The extron was a system Mekall had created to augment his natural abilities. The machine weaved light and sound patterns that produced quick, deep, untraceable trances from which Mekall was able to harvest information he needed or extract what did not suit his purposes and implant what did. It was ruthlessly effective. With it, Mekall had gotten past the toughest mental barriers. He took pride in the fact that he had not encountered a brain he could not crack.
Mekall had reevaluated his political career after he got together with Hilty. Hilty did not like the work and insisted Mekall was better than what he was doing. Mekall did not believe it. But Hilty's acceptance of him for who he was without reproof or judgment ultimately won out. As they became closer, Mekall found himself more willing to accept Hilty's opinion of him. He left the work behind for good when they became housemates.
For the last two years, he had done entrotheorhetical engineering and practical systems work, solving problems and deciphering codes instead of bending minds. Mekall found he preferred being up to the elbows of his Force sense in arcane binary languages or small working parts, as time went by.
He slept better as well.
Mekall reached over the Jedi's shoulder to bring the thin trail of honey-red hair to the front. It was long, as befitted a padawan who was approaching his trials. Mekall ran his fingers over the silky strands, then through them. He separated them into three sections and began creating a padawan braid so reverently it seemed he thought it might break if handled too harshly.
When it was finished, Mekall traced Obi-Wan's cheekbone with his thumb nearly as gently as he stared into the reactionless eyes.
The sound of the front gate callbox broke his train of thought. Turning Obi-Wan's head to the side, he tied the knight's tail off efficiently and went to let the healer in.
Lure had beaten him to it. The two were conversing in hushed tones.
"You can stop gossiping about me now," Mekall interjected.
Yls gawked at Mekall, appalled. He had thought Mekall did not look well on the com call that morning, but had ascribed it to a problem with the transmission. It never occurred to him that Mekall really looked that bad. Lure, who already knew how bad Mekall looked, walked away.
"Don't go too far, Lu," Mekall ordered. Lure gestured he had heard.
"How's the hand?" Yls opted for banter rather than remarking on Mekall's appearance.
"Infected," Mekall replied, with equally false nonchalance, holding it up for proof.
Yls winced just looking at it.
"I'll have to drain that," Yls said. "Where would you like to be sliced open?"
"Him first," Mekall decreed.
Yls followed him upstairs.
As an experienced healer, Yls was not often surprised, but he was confounded by the condition of the Jedi. Bending over the young man, he tsked loudly.
"No wonder you look so bad," Yls said, his tone a mix of exasperation and admiration. "Lucky your hand didn't fall off," he muttered as he continued examining Obi-Wan.
After a few minutes, Yls rolled Obi-Wan onto his side to check the healing where the worst of the damage had been done, and stopped in his tracks. The boy was almost completely recovered, inside and out. To Yls knowledge, what he was looking at should not have been possible.
Yls turned to Mekall, uncertain what to say or how to say it. "Mekall," he began, and ended.
Mekall stood before him, unsteady on his feet, blinking badly bloodshot eyes, hand three times its normal size and as unguarded as Yls had ever seen him. The veiled anger and open distrust Mekall usually projected were, at that moment, gone.
Mekall merely shrugged in response to the healer's startled expression.
Yls slowly swung around and resumed working on Obi-Wan. He removed the evacuation tube he had put in on the first night, applied healant to the areas of skin that were still recovering and made small talk with Mekall about how the Jedi had been. All the while, his mind worked furiously at making sense of what he was encountering.
With nothing left to do for Obi-Wan, Yls moved him onto his back again and straightened the bed clothes around him.
"You still want to do this?" Yls asked.
"No question," Mekall responded.
"Your hand," Yls requested.
"Later," Mekall said. "I'll get Lure."
They reconvened in the study. Lure entered carrying the blank eyed Obi-Wan, who he had dressed in loose sleep clothes. Placing Obi-Wan in the chair in front of the extron, Lure observed Mekall uneasily. He was not sure he trusted Mekall's decision making. As he himself felt the boy was a goner, this seemed a dubious idea at best and torture at worst.
Lure and Yls locked eyes. Lure had told him how Mekall had been pouring all his energy into the stranger each night and acting as if the boy was not in the house by day.
Yls empathized with the Niadan. Bothered both by what Lure had told him and by what he had seen upstairs, he had spent the last quarter of an hour following Mekall as he made preparations, trying to introduce doubts it seemed to him should have been self-evident. Mekall had an answer for each one.
They could not send the Jedi to a hospital. Public facilities on Larral were neither up to date nor geared toward humans. Private facilities were sponsored by the ruling families. On an outlaw world, not a healthy place for a defenseless Jedi.
It would take days to get a message to Coruscant and longer for someone to get from Coruscant to Larral. If Mekall kept doing what he had been doing, he stood a good chance of doing permanent damage to himself. For all of it, the young man might remain exactly as he was. He had shown no change from the first time Yls had seen him. In the end, Yls agreed to Mekall's plan because he could not come up with a better one.
Breaking the stare, Yls reached to check the Jedi's pulse. Lure, in turn, bent to buckle the soft leather straps that would hold Obi-Wan in place. Mekall was making adjustments to the sequencing. Although he had already checked and rechecked the settings, he continued to make slight calibrations to them. He had never used it to do something like this before. Yls attached an output band to Obi-Wan's left forearm to monitor his vital signs during the process.
Lure opened several hidden panels in the walls and began sliding out shields that would protect them from the extron's rays. Mekall went through the steps to initiate the machine's process. Yls went to the other side of the room. Lure joined him after he put the last of four dark grey transparisteel screens into place. They watched Mekall's outline as, before triggering the last switch, he picked up a pair of goggles from the table and drew them over his eyes. Even he was susceptible to the machine's effects.
Mekall flipped the final switch to on and stepped out of the enclosure, quickly sliding the grey screen closed. There was more to do, but he had to let the extron begin the induction first. Providing it could. Mekall put the thought out of his mind. This had to work.
"Now can I see your hand?" Yls accosted him.
"What?" Mekall asked absently, glancing to the far corner of the room where muted changing light could be seen.
"You heard me," Yls insisted.
Mekall pulled the goggles down around his neck and looked at him. Lure was already returning with clean towels and hot water. After placing them on the table, Lure leaned back against the wall, watching interestedly as the healer set about unwrapping Mekall's hand. Mekall turned back to the screened off corner. Yls brought Mekall's attention front again with a tug.
"Did you set the chrono?" Yls asked.
"Of course," Mekall responded, annoyed.
"Then stop acting like an expectant father and sit down," Yls ordered with good-natured petulance.
Lure could not help smiling. Mekall glared at him archly, then ruined the effect by breaking into a smile. The tension in the room dispelled, Mekall gave in to the inevitable and sat down so that Yls could examine his injury.
"Ow!" he jumped.
"Good," Yls commented with a wry grin, "at least you still have feeling in it."
"Feeling in it?" Mekall sniped back, "It hurts like a m -"
"Maybe I'll go get us something to eat," Lure volunteered judiciously, moving from his place on the wall.
Yls smiled at the Niadan's timing. Mekall had to smile as well. Tact was not usually one of Lure's attributes.
Yls checked Mekall's reflexes at the wrist, then went into his bag and drew out a large syringe at which Mekall tried not to flinch. Yls used the diversion to apply a local anesthetic patch to his wrist.
"Ready?" the healer inquired.
Mekall's expression answered the question rudely without his needing to utter a word.
By the time Yls had finished treating Mekall's now almost normal-sized hand and re-covering it with pseudoskin, Lure had come back from the galley with provisions.
The three men ate, then Lure got out a sapir set. They played the game three-handed or two-handed intermittently as Mekall went back and forth from the booth, overseeing Obi-Wan's progress. Although both men had been part of this process any number of times in the past, each pointedly ignored the refracted shifting flashes of light and the silhouette of the helpless young man bound to a chair behind the screen.
Day turned to night.
Lure went to do a security check of the grounds. Yls retired to the back of the study to make some calls. When he was not in with Obi-Wan, Mekall did his best to occupy himself by playing Only, without much luck. As Yls demonstrated several times by coming over and clicking a blue card on a silver or a silver on a blue where Mekall had missed an obvious move.
At last, the lights dimmed slowly out. Mekall suppressed his impatience. Stupid, he admonished himself, he's not going to be any worse than when he went in.
Mekall got up and walked back to the corner. He let the extron come to a full stop before signaling his helper and the healer to join him. Lure pushed one of the screens back to make way for Yls first, then began returning all the shields to their recessed alcoves in the walls.
Yls freed Obi-Wan's wrist to check his pulse. Obi-Wan appeared to be asleep in the chair. His eyes were closed and his chin was almost touching his chest.
Mekall undid the straps, removed the headset from the Jedi's ears and crouched in front of him.
"Obi-Wan?" Mekall coaxed.
For a long minute, there was no response. Then:
"Umh?"
Mekall felt as if his heart skipped a beat. He released a breath he belatedly noticed he had been holding.
"It's time to wake up," Mekall said.
After another moment, Obi-Wan's eyelids fluttered open. Mekall smiled as their eyes actually met for the first time. Obi-Wan matched the smile hesitantly.
"Can you stand?" Mekall asked.
Obi-Wan wondered himself, then attempted it with Mekall's help.
"There," Mekall said, looking as satisfied as if he had just raised a newly birthed koloth foal to its feet.
Obi-Wan was transfixed on Mekall.
"Do you know where you are?" Yls disrupted the short reverie.
Obi-Wan turned his head, apparently unaware there was anyone else in the room.
"This is Yls," Mekall introduced the healer. "I'm Mekall. I found you."
"Found me?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice hoarse from abuse and disuse.
"Mm."
"Where? Where am I?"
"Larral."
"Larral," Obi-Wan repeated quizzically.
"Yes," Mekall told him.
"I . . ." Obi-Wan stumbled as his legs wavered beneath him.
Mekall moved to support him, taking him to another chair, keeping Obi-Wan's back to the extron which Lure was dismantling. Yls checked Obi-Wan's pulse again while Mekall hovered, concern on his face. Yls felt for fever at Obi-Wan's temple and knelt to look into his eyes. Obi-Wan watched him for a few seconds, then his focus returned to Mekall. Yls noted that Mekall was looking at Obi-Wan just as fixedly.
"How do you feel?" the healer asked the Jedi.
"All right, I suppose," Obi-Wan replied, his attention returning to Yls. Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly, trying to collect his thoughts into an answer. "Confused."
"Perfectly natural," the healer assured him. "Mekall, may I speak with you?"
Yls stepped into the hall to get out of Obi-Wan's earshot. Mekall broke away with difficulty and followed.
"What did you do?" Yls asked, perturbed.
"What do you mean?" Mekall replied, sounding put out at the tone. "What we discussed. I wiped the memory of the abduction and the rape, to get him functioning."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Are you on drugs? Look at yourself," Yls snapped.
As Mekall did so, the placid expression he had been wearing since hearing Obi-Wan speak became a grimace. Turning his back on the cause, he walked toward Obi-Wan.
"It doesn't matter," Mekall said coldly over his shoulder to the healer. "Obi-Wan?" Mekall addressed the Jedi, "You do know that's you, right?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed, "Obi-Wan . . . Kenobi."
"Good," Mekall responded. "You were hurt. Beaten. I found you. Hilty and I. You've been here almost a week. You were pretty out of it."
Obi-Wan searched his memory for any evidence that would support that, but suddenly everything seemed very far away and he was overwhelmingly tired. Yls saw he was ready to black out and spoke up.
"Don't worry about it," Yls advised him as he came over. "Do you want to get some rest?"
Obi-Wan did not so much want to sleep as he wanted the bizarre empty sensation where his mind should be to stop. He said, "Yes, thanks . . . "
"Yls," Yls reminded him.
"Yls," Obi-Wan echoed, memorizing the man's face and attaching the name to it.
"I'll show you the way," Yls offered, holding out a hand to help him up.
Yls led Obi-Wan from the room. Mekall remained behind to compose himself.
"Did it work?" Lure asked as he returned from putting the extron away.
"Yeah," Mekall said making it sound more like no. "I think so," he revised. "He's awake. Talking a bit."
"That sounds good," Lure answered, curious why Mekall did not seem to find it so.
"Yeah," Mekall concurred wispily.
"Hey, Mekall?" Lure tried to focus him.
"Hm?" Mekall was not looking at him and did not sound like he was talking to him. "Right," he recovered after a few seconds. "Everything taken care of?"
"Yeah," Lure told him. "Everything's away. I'll clean up in here."
"Okay, good," Mekall murmured still drifting.
"Mekall," Lure said, "I feel like it's the only question I ever ask you anymore, but are you all right?"
"I'm all right, Lu. Just clean up in here, okay," he responded.
Lure squinted down at him, bewildered. "That's what I said."
Mekall had not heard him. He was already on his way to the stairs.
Yls had Obi-Wan in bed by the time Mekall got there.
"Get some sleep," Yls instructed him. "I'll be back in the morning."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said.
Mekall followed Yls into the hallway.
"Anything I should know?" Mekall inquired.
"What was that?" the healer demanded, evaluating Mekall with probing eyes.
"What was what?" Mekall replied.
"Feigning ignorance does not become you, Mekall. That coe-eyed mooning you were doing downstairs."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Mekall said, intending to refute the healer's misgivings but coming across as unsure himself. "Nothing."
"Nothing," Yls parroted. "Then, stop it," he ordered and made impatiently for the stairs.
Mekall decided not to follow and went in to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan's head was turned toward the window.
"Obi-Wan, are you all right?" Mekall inquired.
"I'm just . . . very . . . " was the reply.
"I know, but try not to worry about it," Mekall advised him. "Things will seem more real before you know it."
Obi-Wan shifted to face Mekall, finding some solace in Mekall understanding how weird he felt. Mekall stepped toward the bed, looking at Obi-Wan with a tenderness that seemed out of place on his face.
"A-shhen uhn kerra soman," Mekall said softly.
Obi-Wan did not recognize the words, but their effect was undeniable. His eyes closed as sleep overtook him. Mekall kept him company for a time, to be certain his sleep was peaceful. Closing his own eyes, preoccupied by what Yls had said, Mekall slowly came to realize he was running his fingers over Obi-Wan's hand. It took him a minute after noticing it to stop and it was another before he could make himself go downstairs.
Yls was pacing in front of the doors like a caged animal.
"Anything I can do to get that thorn out of your paw?" Mekall asked.
Yls grudgingly let go a small laugh. "You don't know what you're getting into." Which was not like Mekall at all.
"I beg to differ," Mekall stated, equally resolute.
Yls surveyed his friend's face. "Okay," he said, "I'll be happier if I'm wrong."
Mekall smiled confidently, coded the doors and gave Yls a genial glad-to-see-you-go shove into the airlock. He closed the inner doors and waited for Yls to signal he was ready to have the outer doors opened. Mekall codelocked after him.
"All set," Lure came up behind him. "You need me for anything else?"
"No, Lu," Mekall answered, "you go on home."
"You sure?"
"I'm not sure of anything. But if I were you, I'd get out while the getting was good."
Lure, not one to argue with common sense, went to get his belongings.
Mekall stayed on the first floor until the Niadan had gone. Then he headed up the stairs, finding he was totally worn out. He looked in on Obi-Wan as he passed the spare room. The Jedi was sleeping soundly.
Mekall left the door to his own room open, so he would hear if Obi-Wan woke during the night. Looking forward to sleep, he shed his clothes, slipped into an old pair of leggings and crawled between the sheets. But sleep did not come. He wondered what Hilty was doing, without knowing how long it had been since he had given his partner a thought. Shivering, Mekall climbed out of bed to get an extra blanket. It was not enough and shortly he had to go for another. He could not seem to get warm.
In the morning, Mekall got up early. It was hard, but he waited for Obi-Wan to wake on his own. Mekall had left the padawan clean clothes and bathing supplies. He busied himself, waiting to see what Obi-Wan would do and just how functional he would be.
Obi-Wan woke up feeling unsettled. Nothing seemed particularly wrong, but nothing was right either. His restlessness escalating, he dressed in the clothes Mekall had left him and warily stepped out of the bedroom. He heard sounds of activity downstairs, but decided to explore the rest of the upstairs before investigating them. There was another bedroom, an exercise room and a large 'fresher. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to be afraid of, on the face of it.
Obi-Wan went down the stairs, finding Mekall in the galley.
"Morning," Mekall greeted him from in front of the rangetop where he was finishing preparing firstmeal. "How do you like your eggs?"
Obi-Wan's eyes unfocused as he attempted to answer the question.
Too hard? Mekall wondered. "Why don't you sit down?" he directed, indicating the table and chairs with a tip of his head.
Obi-Wan followed the gesture and sat.
"Hungry?"
No, Obi-Wan thought, but said, "A bit." His voice was still rough from his ordeal, despite all Mekall's healing.
Mekall split what he had cooked onto two plates, placing one in front of Obi-Wan and the other in front of himself as he sat down on the opposite side of the table.
Obi-Wan thanked him.
Mekall began to eat. Obi-Wan did not.
"Remember anything more?" Mekall asked.
"No," Obi-Wan answered, then asked, "Like what?"
"Don't know," Mekall replied around a bite of food, motioning toward Obi-Wan's plate.
Obi-Wan picked up his fork. Although he was not hungry, something in him told him not to be impolite.
Mekall watched him rearrange the food. "How do you feel?" he inquired, giving Obi-Wan a once-over.
Obi-Wan faltered under the scrutiny, looking away. The man had eyes that made him feel he was being sized up to see how much his parts would be worth on the open market.
"I don't know," Obi-Wan answered honestly. "You tell me." After pausing to think about it, Mekall offered, "Cut loose. Cast adrift. Angry, don't know at whom. Worn down with no idea why. Hurt . . . scared."
Obi-Wan raised his eyes to meet Mekall's, his fear unmistakable. He quickly dropped them again.
"No?" Mekall challenged.
"Yes," Obi-Wan responded diffidently. "I suppose." He was quiet for a short time before asking, "Do I know you?"
"No."
"Then how did I get here?"
"I told you, I found you."
"Where?"
"Someone beat you up and dumped you in my hangar. It's pressurized so we can work out there. The atmosphere here doesn't support most humanoid breathing. Lure found you. The big guy. I don't think you've been introduced."
"When was this?" Obi-Wan asked, looking back up.
"Six days ago," Mekall replied.
"And where is here, again?"
"Larral."
"Larral," Obi-Wan repeated, his voice sounding more strained. "That's . . . "
"The outer rim," Mekall supplied.
"The outer rim," Obi-Wan repeated, with growing dismay.
"Obi-Wan, look, try not to worry about it. You'll drive yourself crazy and it won't make anything any better."
Mekall saw the Jedi had not heard a word. "Obi-Wan," Mekall said again, putting an edge in his voice.
Obi-Wan's attention returned to him then.
"It'll come back to you," Mekall told him. "You need to give it time."
Obi-Wan looked at Mekall, working to formulate a reply. Mekall crossed the nebulous border between understanding and annoyance.
"Just eat, all right?" he said as kindly as he could. "You should be hungry," he added with a little Force.
After they had finished, Mekall took Obi-Wan into the study. Lure would be arriving shortly and there were things the Jedi would need to know to get through the day.
"What happened to your hand?" Obi-Wan asked before Mekall could begin.
"You bit me," Mekall said with a crooked smile.
"I bit you?" Obi-Wan asked, looking horrified. "First night you were here."
"Why?"
"You either flipped out or you were very hungry," Mekall replied, his smile broadening.
Obi-Wan found himself smiling. "I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?" Mekall shook it off. "You didn't know what you were doing."
"Still," Obi-Wan protested.
"I accept if it helps," Mekall relented.
Obi-Wan smiled shyly and took the seat Mekall directed him to.
"This is going to take some time," Obi-Wan observed.
"Exactly my point," Mekall affirmed. "That's why you need to take it easy."
"I will try," Obi-Wan said, "it's only that . . . I feel there's something more, very close, that I can't quite reach, you know?"
Mekall knew all too well. "What do you remember?" he asked.
Obi-Wan shut his eyes to concentrate. What came to him was in split second flashes: streamlined architecture, figures in hooded robes, long hushed corridors . . . a stunner blast. Obi-Wan began to fold in on himself.
"Obi-Wan," Mekall's voice called him back.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Mekall was kneeling by his side, his hand on Obi-Wan's arm.
"It's all right," Mekall told him.
In a moment, it was. The dread that had been overtaking Obi-Wan began to dissipate. He took a few slow breaths to calm himself. Mekall mused upon how deeply rooted centering was. He did it as second nature and Obi-Wan was doing it without even knowing what he was doing.
"What's funny?" Obi-Wan queried.
"I'll tell you later," Mekall evaded.
Obi-Wan decided to take that for an answer because being with Mekall was the closest he had felt to normal since awakening.
"I want to try something different," Mekall said. "Instead of concentrating, I want you to relax."
Obi-Wan looked doubtful.
"I know," Mekall smiled at him, "but what have we got to lose?"
Obi-Wan sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. Mekall's hand stayed on his arm.
"Listen to my voice and try to clear your mind," Mekall intoned softly. "There's nothing but you and me and this room. You're safe and comfortable and in the light. There's nothing to hurt you here. No danger, no pain, no fear. Nothing but you and me and the light. Very safe. The chair's very comfortable. Soft and warm. You're very relaxed and you're beginning to sink down into it. Letting go, letting your mind drift wherever it wants to go. Where are you?"
Obi-Wan said nothing for a few seconds, then faintly, "Ship."
"Whose ship?" Mekall asked.
"Transport. To Kiradian. Negotiations. Peace talks."
"Who's with you?"
Obi-Wan's head shook slightly. As he tried to remember, he started to shudder. Mekall jogged his arm to bring him back. Obi-Wan sat up with fear in his eyes.
"It's all right. It's all right," Mekall soothed. "Forget it. It doesn't matter. Shh."
Obi-Wan was still trembling. Mekall took him into his arms to quiet him, holding the Jedi until he regained control.
"I didn't mean to -" Obi-Wan said as he drew away.
"I shouldn't have asked you to -" Mekall started simultaneously.
"Morning." Lure's voice caught them both off guard. He was embarrassed to be there but too big to hide.
Mekall stood, as collectedly as he could given the situation, and brought Obi-Wan to his feet. "Morning Lure," he said without taking his eyes from the Jedi. "Why don't you go upstairs and go to sleep for a while, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan nodded. He got up and headed out of the room. "Morning," he said to Lure as he passed him.
Lure, not expecting the young man's presence of mind, responded, "Morning," after Obi-Wan was well out of range.
Obi-Wan made his way upstairs. Although he had just gotten up, the thought of sleep was inviting.
Time, he thought, sitting down on the bed, give it time. As frustrated as he was, as scared as he could be if he let himself, the predominant feeling was a sense of something within him that was not as it should be. Something that was not explained away by the holes in his memory.
He got up and went to the mirror. Removing his shirt, he tried to pull his thoughts together by grounding himself in what he did know. He had been here a week, of which he had no memory. Mekall said he had been beaten, but he bore little more than a few faded bruises and small puncture-like marks. Had he been the intended victim? Or was he in the wrong place at the wrong time?
He knew generally who he was, had some sense of self, but there was nothing behind it. That reminds me, he thought. Turning sideways, he reached back for his ponytail. He tugged at it experimentally. Then he turned front, intercepting his braid mid-swing and bringing it to the front. He held it between his hands, then ran it between his left forefinger and thumb while he brushed his right hand over the rest of his closely cropped hair. Who wore their hair like this anyway?
Okay, people did not emerge fully formed. This he knew. But very little else. Except that he was tired, and cold. He took his shirt off the bed and put it back on. With a sigh, he sat down on the end of the bed again. He did not feel strong enough to attempt to go back in his mind to where he had been downstairs. It was too painful and . . . lonely. Something was missing. Someone close or someone who should be.
Another sigh escaped Obi-Wan. He decided to take Mekall's advice and rest. There was little else that made sense. Not that he had much choice. He found he barely had the energy to drag himself up onto the bed all the way.
Obi-Wan slept on and off through most of the day. When Lure brought him a tray at midmeal, Obi-Wan asked the Niadan about finding him. Lure had no more information to share, having only recently been given the story himself. Mekall had told Lure he thought it best to keep the truth from Obi-Wan for now, to give him time to get back on his feet.
"Obi-Wan," Mekall's voice woke him as he came into the room. He was wearing a coldgear vest and carrying another tray of food.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He had not been aware he had fallen back to sleep after Lure had removed the last tray. "It's night," he commented hazily.
"Hence the darkness," Mekall responded, then, feeling he had sounded snide, he added, "I brought food."
Obi-Wan sat up. Mekall placed the tray beside him and sat down facing it. The meal was simple but plentiful: bread, cold meat, cheese, some vegetables and sweet cakes.
As Obi-Wan slid around to face the tray, his padawan braid swung forward onto his chest. He reached for it. "What is this?" he asked with consternation.
Mekall was amused by Obi-Wan's expression, but wondered when what he was would start coming back to him. There was no way the machine wiped out that much memory.
Was there?
"Had it when you got here. I assumed it was intentional," Mekall told him.
"This too?" Obi-Wan indicated his knight's tail.
Mekall nodded.
Obi-Wan shook his head, once again baffled by the look. With no answer for that, he decided to address a different topic. "I was dreaming."
"What about?" Mekall inquired.
"Not any thing so much as something . . . missing."
Mekall let him think about that, then asked, "Hungry?" prompting Obi-Wan to return his attention to the food.
It was quiet while they both ate. In time, Mekall got warm enough to slip his jacket off.
"How did you know my name?" Obi-Wan asked. "Did I have papers, an ID?"
"No, no papers," Mekall replied.
"Then how?"
"It was in your memory," Mekall said at last, endeavoring to stay in the neighborhood of the truth.
A look of apprehension crossed Obi-Wan's face.
"Don't be scared. It's a Je . . . just something my people can do," Mekall explained.
Obi-Wan still appeared unsettled. "Then you know what happened to me," he stated.
"No," Mekall countered. "I only know what you knew."
Obi-Wan watched him, waiting for him to continue.
"You're some sort of negotiator. You were on a mission," Mekall reminded him.
"Kiradian," Obi-Wan added, from the earlier memory.
"Yes," Mekall took a bite of food to give himself a moment before continuing. "Maybe someone trying to cause a re-escalation of hostilities between the parties for whom you were mediating the peace talks attacked you. They had stunners. After that you couldn't see anything, so I couldn't."
Obi-Wan checked his memory for any verification. It was not there.
"Your people?" he asked, latching onto the other part of what Mekall had said.
"Yes," Mekall responded, "I'm Lev, but I was raised on Coruscant," he watched Obi-Wan for any recognition. "It's the central system of the Galactic Republic. My . . . parents worked for the Senate in an advisory capacity. I . . . lost them . . . when I was 13."
"That must have been very difficult," Obi-Wan commented, compassion showing in his face, but nothing more.
"Impossible," Mekall admitted, the truth, regarding his own past and Obi-Wan's increasingly disconcerting lack of one, spilling out of him. "They tried to help me," Mekall went on, his voice roughening. "I wouldn't . . . I wanted to . . . I couldn't."
In the bleak silence that stretched between them, Obi-Wan reached out to cover Mekall's hand where it rested worrying the edge of the tray. Mekall tried to withdraw, but Obi-Wan would not relinquish his hold. Mekall glanced up and their eyes met. Before he knew precisely what he was doing, Mekall had leaned over the tray and covered Obi-Wan's mouth with a kiss. Obi-Wan hesitated briefly, but emboldened by the clarity of the emotion, he soon deepened the contact. His tongue explored Mekall's lips, seeking entry.
Mekall moved the tray from between them. The two men's knees met as their tongues joined together in his mouth. Mekall's arms wrapped around Obi-Wan, the last of the coldness which had filled him for most of the day bled away by the heat coming from the Jedi. Mekall began to stretch out, lowering Obi-Wan to the bed, lost in the sensation of melding, abandoning questions and misgivings to the warmth of awakening passion.
Slowly, from somewhere that seemed a much greater distance than the opposite wall, the sound of the com beeping gradually began to impinge on Mekall's hearing.
(continued in part 3)