Master Apprentice
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(continued from part 2)
Mekall broke away. He braced an arm down on either side of Obi-Wan and got off the bed. He took several seconds to center himself before depressing the com button which brought Yls' image up on screen. He was at the gate, right on schedule. Mekall coded him in, then turned to Obi-Wan.
"I'm . . . I'm sorry," was all he could think to say. "I'm . . . "
He walked to the bed and set the tray back in front of Obi-Wan.
"Finish eating," Mekall instructed him, too disturbed to think to insert Force. "You need to get your strength back." With that he picked up his jacket and left.
Obi-Wan watched the door, wondering if he would be back. The turn of events was unexpected, but the feeling of being together was right. As he thought it over, he tucked back into the food, finding, for the first time, that he was hungry.
Yls entered like a man on a mission, a mission whose urgency was reinforced by Mekall's flushed appearance.
"Am I in time?" Yls asked.
"In time?" Mekall repeated, at a loss.
Yls walked past him into the study, so Mekall followed. He slipped back into his coldvest as they walked.
"Chilly?" Yls remarked pointedly.
"Hm?" Mekall only half heard him as he came into the room.
Yls was pulling a holoreader and a pile of hardcopy from his bag.
Mekall frowned. "What is all that?"
"You've bonded with him," Yls stated.
"I've what?" Mekall sputtered, eyes widening.
Yls held out the reader to Mekall but he did not move to take it.
"It's not possible. I'm with -"
"Read," Yls insisted, thrusting the device at him. Mekall still did not extend his hand.
Yls put the reader down on top of the stack of paper and tried to adopt a more reasonable tone. "How is he?"
Mekall, thrown off by the change in direction, stammered, "He's all right. He . . . I . . . "
"And you? How are you?" Yls asked.
"I'm fine."
"And last night?"
"He was fine. Slept through."
"I meant you."
"All right. I slept. It's - I think it just all caught up with me."
"In what way."
Mekall searched the healer's eyes. "Cold, mostly. I couldn't seem to get warm."
Yls reached for the 'reader. It took a few moments to come on line. He scanned back to the section he wanted and began to recite.
"Symptoms include: loss of body temperature equilibrium at separation, distraction, lassitude and a general feeling of fatigue. Patient may also experience -"
Mekall grabbed the 'reader from Yls, torn between using it and throwing it against the wall.
"It's not possible," Mekall protested weakly.
Yls pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and first finger. "What are you going to do?"
Mekall laughed a dangerously high pitched laugh. "What am I going to _do_?" he answered. "What am I going to do? What am I going to _do_?" he continued incredulously, vocal pitch rising with each repetition.
"Steady," Yls said, moving to rest what he hoped would be a consoling and grounding hand on Mekall's arm.
Mekall could not seem to stop blinking. He shook his head in disbelief and laughed an odd, breathy chuckle. "It can't be," he said.
"'Fraid it can. All it takes is two Force sensitives and fate."
Mekall finally looked at the holoreader he was holding. Yls, his worry that Mekall was going to go up in smoke on the spot allayed, stepped off and closed his bag.
"Let's go upstairs," Yls suggested.
"You go ahead. I'll be here," Mekall said.
Yls spent quite some time with Obi-Wan. Mekall was not sure if he hoped Yls was telling the Jedi what he had told him or if he hoped he was not.
The 'reader held only a summary. Mekall finished that and moved on to the hardcopy. As he did, it came to him how much he had let himself be consumed by Obi-Wan over the last days. He had thought he might be going mad. He supposed knowing he was not should be more of a relief than he was finding it.
The Force was, as always, working in its mysterious ways. He had done all he could to arrange his life so that he would never be at its mercy again. He made it perform for him, in open refutation of the feelings he had when he left the Temple. The Jedi taught of balance. Mekall had ended up feeling used, exploited and discarded.
Extending a tendril of inquiry to the spare room, Mekall noted for the first time that the Force felt out of phase around Obi-Wan. Was it something more than the amnesia? There was the blow to his skull on Kiradian. If Obi-Wan's brain was physically damaged, what effect could the extron have had beyond what he had calculated?
Mekall felt an unfamiliar twinge of guilt. All he had wanted to do was get the guy conscious so he could be rid of him. A short harsh laugh escaped him. This is ridiculous, he thought. Impossible. He went to pour himself a drink, threw it back in one swallow and returned to his reading with the whole bottle instead of a glass.
By the time Yls came down, Mekall was stretched out on his back on the floor surrounded by small piles of hardcopy. There was a lit cheroot in the ashtray. He had reverted to using a glass for the alcohol. It was going to be a long night.
Yls loitered in the doorway. His friend was absorbed in the information but he knew Mekall knew he was there.
"Did you tell him?" Mekall asked.
"No," Yls replied. "He doesn't even remember being a Jedi. How the hells would I explain this?"
"I was thinking the same thing," Mekall acknowledged. "He seems to have some sort of organic impairment, in addition to what I did to him. He had that blow to the head."
"The concussion, I know. I thought you'd fixed it, along with everything else," Yls agreed, "but it's entirely possible he'd sustain some aftereffects."
"He doesn't seem to have access to the Force," Mekall noted. "It's around him but he doesn't seem to be able to use it."
"If he doesn't know he's Jedi, he doesn't know it's there to be used. Temporary memory loss isn't uncommon with head injury," Yls posited, "could be the same with the Force. On the other hand, it may simply be his way of dealing with his pain. Minds have done stranger things in the name of self-preservation."
"Then again," Mekall added.
"It could have been the machine," Yls completed. "There's no telling. It shouldn't have, but it could have."
Mekall took a long draught of liquor, guilt and confusion clear on his face. Yls had infrequently seen the second on him and never the first. Yls felt for him. Larral's less than sterling social contract and ever-shifting power landscape had the advantage of allowing one who was inclined to do so to set his own agenda. Not much was considered either wholly good or wholly bad. The young man upstairs skewed everything by his innocence.
"Anything I can do?" Yls offered.
"No," Mekall said without antagonism.
"Then let me out," Yls requested, reaching into an outer pocket of his bag for his breather. "I'm going home."
Mekall rose and went with the healer to the front doors.
"You know where to find me," Yls said, then he slipped the apparatus over his nose and mouth and went on his way.
It was over an hour later when Obi-Wan ventured down the stairs. He extended his head cautiously past the door frame, wanting to observe Mekall before going in. Though Mekall had been drinking heavily, he looked up immediately, put down what he was reading and indicated Obi-Wan should take a seat.
"Everything all right?" Obi-Wan inquired.
Mekall smiled oddly. "What did Yls say?"
"Nothing much. He gave me a physical. Tested my reflexes. Checking recovery sort of stuff. Why? What did he say to you?"
Obi-Wan was taken aback at the dark laugh this brought forth from Mekall.
"Nothing much," Mekall echoed. He drained his glass, refilled it and drank most of that. Putting down his drink, he sat back, leaning on his elbows.
"Look, Kenobi," Mekall said, "I'm not very good company."
"I don't have much reference for comparison," Obi-Wan reminded him.
Mekall lifted an eyebrow at the humor and smiled, slightly disarmed. "True," he admitted, getting tipsily to his feet and making his way to the bar.
"Drink?" he asked, swiveling to face Obi-Wan.
"No thank you," Obi-Wan answered.
"You don't drink?"
"I don't know."
"Only one way to find out," Mekall declared. He poured a drink for Obi-Wan and wavered over to him with it. Mekall extended the glass more steadily than Obi-Wan was expecting. Obi-Wan's eyes met Mekall's. Mekall let his stare and his hand linger. Bond with this, he thought scornfully.
Obi-Wan simply accepted the drink and thanked him. He turned his eyes down to the clear liquid before tasting it experimentally. Yes, he had had this before.
Mekall sat back down and retrieved his smoke from the ashtray.
"Cheroot?" he offered Obi-Wan.
"No," Obi-Wan demurred, "thank you."
Obi-Wan could not help watching as Mekall re-lit his cigar, mesmerized by the way the other man's lips worked at the task. Mekall took a long pull and released a plume of smoke, relaxing back onto his arms again.
Obi-Wan felt an odd sensation he could not put his finger on.
"So," Mekall led back to the previous thread of conversation, "Yls say you're okay?"
"Coming along, he said," Obi-Wan replied.
"Coming along," Mekall mulled it over. "You still don't remember anything more?"
"No," Obi-Wan confirmed.
Mekall gave him that strange grin again and reached for his glass. "No past," he mused, "some would envy you."
Obi-Wan took a sip from his drink, thinking about what Mekall had told him earlier about his own past. "I suppose," he said, "that some people would be glad to be rid of their pasts. But if they envy this, they haven't experienced it. What is all that?" Obi-Wan indicated the papers surrounding Mekall.
Mekall smiled sadly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me," Obi-Wan said seriously, a line of concentration forming between his brows.
For an instant, Mekall considered telling him everything and letting the consequences be what they would. But as he looked into the inquisitive face across from him, he did not have the heart. When the hells did I grow one of those back? he wondered irritably.
Motioning for Obi-Wan to join him on the floor, Mekall sat up. He gathered together the papers that were to his left side and placed them with those on his right.
"It's work," he evaded.
Obi-Wan sat down where Mekall had cleared space. Slightly glassy light green eyes and vibrant grey-green met and held as both felt the impact of being this close.
"What do you want to know?" Mekall asked huskily.
"Oh, nothing much," Obi-Wan half-smiled. "Who am I? What am I? Why am I here? Where should I be? Why do I feel I know you when you say I don't?"
Mekall sort of smiled as well. "No, not much," he affirmed. Finally breaking the eye contact, Mekall took another draw off his smoke. "Do you want to try again to remember?" he asked.
Given what he had just said, Obi-Wan surprised himself by not immediately answering the question. He wanted to know, very much, but the pain he had experienced during Mekall's attempt to help him remember earlier was his clearest memory from the entire day. He did not look forward to the possibility of re-experiencing it.
"Yes," he finally answered.
Obi-Wan had looked down. Mekall reached over and raised Obi-Wan's face until he could see his eyes.
"Look at me Obi-Wan," Mekall ordered. "There's nothing to be afraid of. No one's going to hurt you while you're here. What you remember could be painful, but you won't be hurt. Do you want to try?"
Raising his eyes to meet Mekall's, Obi-Wan said, "I do," firmly.
"All right," Mekall said, placing the cheroot in the ashtray. "Meditation, Lesson One."
"Don't worry," he said, reaching without thinking to smooth the crease that had again appeared between those wonderful eyebrows. Cut it out, he thought, as he withdrew his hand and chased the small horny monster in his head back into its box.
"Okay," Mekall started again. "Are you comfortable? Or would you prefer the chair?"
"Here's all right," Obi-Wan told him, some unnamable emptiness inside him alleviated by being beside Mekall.
"Like anything else, any two people who teach you about meditation will tell you two different things. This is what I think. Meditation is just breathing and feeling. Letting each moment happen and being relaxed enough to hear what's going on. In here," he touched his forefinger to Obi-Wan's chest, "in here," he touched Obi-Wan's forehead, "and out there," he finished, sweeping his finger over a short arc of the room.
"You can think?" Mekall asked him.
Obi-Wan had been so intent on awaiting instructions to follow, the question caught him off guard, causing him to smile. At which Mekall broke into a broad smile.
"I know you can breathe. This is gonna be easy," Mekall breathed deeply in and out once to settle himself. "Okay, take a breath, normal breath, in and out."
Which Obi-Wan did.
"Another one, a little slower, try to notice what you're doing. "In and out," Mekall said, doing it himself.
Obi-Wan followed his lead.
"Good. Try another, a little slower. Close your eyes if that feels comfortable." Obi-Wan looked at him for a second, then took another deeper breath in. He closed his eyes as he let it out.
"Just keep going like that," Mekall guided him. "Nothing to do but breath. Iiinn and ooouuut," he continued, his voice growing quieter and soothing. "Feel what you're doing. How the air is entering you and moving through you. How breathing feels . . . how it sounds."
Mekall kept an eye on Obi-Wan for any sign of distress, but as he expected, Obi-Wan picked it up naturally, tuning into his body's rhythm. Meditation was innate if you let it be. Should be second nature to Jedi, he thought.
Deciding he would read while keeping the padawan company, Mekall picked up some of the hardcopy. The reading was not making much sense and he had to start again. After doing so several times, he gave up and stretched out onto his back again.
Watching the steady rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest, Mekall slipped into a drunken meditation of Obi-Wan. Of his braid, red and brown, auburn and gold, woven together, trailing up to disappear behind his ear. Of his two birthmarks: one highlighting his cheekbone, the other just this side of where he wanted to trace his finger down the center of Obi-Wan's forehead. The way his lashes lay against his cheeks, slightly more red than the rest of his hair. The relaxed but firm set to his lips. Nice lips, soft, warm lips. Licking and sucking at those lips, teasing his tongue between them, claiming that mouth, then drifting down to lick at the cleft in his chin and . . .
Mekall's eyes flew open. He lurched up, knocking his glass over in the process.
Feeling him rise, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. The meditation had helped. He felt much more at ease, rather inexplicably so, he thought; at this moment he felt as if he was right where he was supposed to be and with the person he was supposed to be with. Under the circumstances, how could that possibly be?
"What happened?" he asked, scanning Mekall's face for the source of his obvious disquiet.
"How do you feel?" Mekall tried to redirect him.
"All right," Obi-Wan said, thoughtfully.
"Relaxed?"
"Until a moment ago," he replied, smiling slightly.
"I'm sorry," Mekall said, going to the bar to get something to wipe up the spilled liquor.
"You keep apologizing," Obi-Wan said, as Mekall began to clean up the floor.
"Yeah, I'm s -" Mekall caught himself and stopped.
Obi-Wan moved over to help Mekall sop up the liquid. "Looks like your work caught most of it," he commented, lifting his eyes. He reached for some of the toweling Mekall was using, brushing his hand intentionally across Mekall's.
"Yeah," Mekall said faintly, his gaze captured and held.
Obi-Wan took advantage of the moment to move in and capture Mekall's lips as well. Mekall offered scant resistance to the kiss, then he was tasting Obi-Wan's lips, dragging his lower lip into his mouth. Obi-Wan moved in Mekall's direction, intensifying the kiss. Mekall accepted his tongue, meeting and twining with it. As the heat built between them, Obi-Wan nudged Mekall's shirt up to give himself better access to his chest. Mekall moaned softly as Obi-Wan swept first one nipple and then the other with the callused pads of his fingers and his fingernails. Mekall finally put his arms around Obi-Wan, and they both eased down to the floor. Small piles of paper slithered into disarray around them.
Mekall moaned again as Obi Wan apparently read his mind and broke from his lips to nuzzle at the cleft in Mekall's chin. He worked his way down to lick and nip at Mekall's throat. Mekall writhed beneath him, grinding their pelvises together, nestling into Obi-Wan's spiky hair as it tickled over his cheek.
While one hand continued to explore the geography of Mekall's chest, Obi-Wan returned his lips to Mekall's mouth. His other hand traced across a scar on Mekall's belly then trailed over the line of hair down the center of Mekall's abdomen and went below. When Obi-Wan's hand found its target, Mekall came abruptly to his senses. His eyes opened and he propelled himself away with his legs.
Obi-Wan eyed Mekall like a predator. He prowled toward him on all fours. Mekall could not take his eyes off him. When Obi-Wan pressed in for a kiss, Mekall's mouth responded, even as his hands moved the Jedi away. Obi-Wan shoved back. He drew Mekall into another kiss which Mekall broke from with difficulty.
"No," he said breathlessly as he slid away and stumbled to his feet.
"I don't -" Obi-Wan began, kneeling be him, looking up at him with bemusement on his face, "I don't understand." "Get up," Mekall demanded, extremely troubled by Obi-Wan's submissive pose.
"Not until you explain."
Mekall closed and o his eyes, letting a deep breath in and out. "There's . . . I can't"
"Why?"
"I can't," Mekall insisted, feeling turned inside out by Obi-Wan's hurt, questioning eyes. To get away from them, he walked around him to the table where the holoreader was. Mekall ran his finger over a row of keys, fighting the urge to ignore his inner voice and give in to the beautiful young man at his feet. "You wouldn't understand," he said tensely.
"I would if you explained it," Obi-Wan insisted.
"No," Mekall said, resisting the pull toward the Jedi.
"I need to know what you're not telling me," Obi-Wan said, turning around to face Mekall only to find his back was to him.
Mekall sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging, as he rested his hands against the table. Feeling trapped, he spoke the trigger phrase. Obi-Wan slid to the floor asleep.
Mekall knelt next to him. He lingered over his face, almost reached to touch it then caught himself. He felt as perplexed as Obi-Wan had looked. I have to tell him to be rid of him. I want to be rid of him. Don't I?
Gathering what there was of his composure and coordination, Mekall slung the young man over his shoulder to take him upstairs and put him to bed.
Mekall came awake uncertain what had roused him. It was still dark out, not night, but some time before dawn. Instinct brought him quickly to full consciousness. He sat up, his ears registering an incongruous noise and almost slid back down under the assault of his hangover. Reining in the pain, relegating it to some corner of his brain where he could deal with it later, Mekall got out of bed and followed the sound cautiously to the 'fresher.
The shower was on. Obi-Wan stood under it, naked, in the process of tearing gouges in himself with his fingernails.
"Obi-Wan," Mekall ventured. Obi-Wan did not react. As Mekall got closer to him, he saw Obi-Wan was sleeping.
Reaching out, Mekall grasped Obi-Wan's hands. The Jedi resisted, wriggling free and backing away. Mekall nearly lost his footing. He had put one leg in the shower to steady himself. Now he was drawn in completely as he tried again to hold Obi-Wan's blood and water-slicked hands. He ended up standing opposite the young Jedi under the streaming water. Sensing someone near him, Obi-Wan began to fight in earnest.
Mekall had thought it best not to wake him, but concerned that Obi-Wan would fall and sustain further head injury, Mekall called his name loudly. Obi-Wan opened his eyes in terror, still seeing something other than where he really was or who it was that stood across from him.
"Sleep." Mekall waylaid him with a Force suggestion, catching his body as he slid into unconsciousness. Thrown off balance again, Mekall's back hit the back wall of the shower hard. Water poured over them, silver falling away into black, as the water-pinked blood flowed to the bottom of the unlit shower stall. As Mekall stood there, supporting Obi-Wan, trying to find his own equilibrium, there was only one thing in his mind. What was Obi-Wan remembering and what would he do with him if Obi-Wan got back the memory of the beating and the rape but never recalled his past? When he was able, Mekall dialed down the water, cradled Obi-Wan in his arms and stepped out of the stall. He laid the Jedi on the massage table and retrieved towels from the storage cube. He put one towel down next to Obi-Wan. He took up a second to dab at the array of wounds. No telling how long Obi-Wan had been in there. He had done a thorough job on himself.
Mekall hesitated to touch him, feeling any further contact - especially healing if history was any guide - would hasten or even cement the bond. But action won out over thinking and Mekall went to work applying healing Force to the scratches and gashes Obi-Wan had inflicted on himself.
The most serious damage addressed, Mekall dried Obi-Wan with the clean towel. Then he stripped out of his own soaked bed clothes, tossing them down the launderer.
Taking Obi-Wan in his arms again, doing his best to ignore the heat he felt at being skin to skin, Mekall carried the Jedi to the main bedroom and placed him in bed. He found leggings and an old soft shirt and clothed him so that he would not wake up in unfamiliar surroundings_and_ naked.
Mekall sat down beside Obi-Wan and made an effort to stabilize his thinking. Then, he traced into Obi-Wan's mind to haze over the end of their encounter. Obi-Wan would remember it as a dream. With a little luck, Mekall thought, admitting to himself the irony of wishing for luck when dealing with the Force. He could not go on like this. The longer the Jedi was around, the less anything was making sense, the less he was making sense. And, seemingly, the less he wanted to.
Mekall got up from the bed and went to get fresh sleep clothes for himself. On his way back, he banged his head against the wall a time or two, just in case that might help. Then he climbed into bed beside the sleeping young man and extinguished the light with a touch of Force.
Morning came too soon in the form of a large Niadan at the open bedroom door.
"Mekall," Lure said quietly, "its ninth, and Tallo Thaan's here.
"Tallo Thaan?" Mekall asked. What the hells does he -
Mekall's hangover reasserted itself with a vengeance when he got up. He staggered from the bed and Lure took a step toward him, but Mekall righted himself.
"Can you come up with something to stall him?" Mekall asked, looking at the Jedi in his bed. Obi-Wan was still asleep and looked to be at ease. Thank the Force for small favors, Mekall thought. "I'll be down as soon as I can."
Lure shook his head no. "He'll wait, for you. For me I'm sure he couldn't be bothered."
Mekall knew Lure was right. Tallo was a haughty, impatient snob. But a rich, haughty, impatient snob. If it was business, Mekall wanted to see him. Mekall could not think of any other reason the Larralar would bother to seek him out.
"Everything all right?" Lure asked, keeping his voice low, in deference to Mekall's bedmate.
Mekall's eyes drifted back over to Obi-Wan. "More or less," he assessed.
Lure satisfied himself with that. It was as much of an answer as he got about anything lately.
Mekall dressed and left some clothes for Obi-Wan. Then he wrote him a short note, explaining he had an appointment and asking that Obi-Wan stay upstairs.
"Get the speeder prepped," Mekall instructed Lure as they walked up the hall. "I may need to go with him." He followed that with a few other tasks he had for Lure as they went down the stairs. Outside the study door, Mekall hung up his coldgear vest, flexed his shoulders and arranged his calm. Lure lumbered down the hall, glad to have some real work to do for a change.
"Thaan," Mekall greeted his guest by his formal designation, grateful to find the Larralar seated in a study which Lure had tidied.
"Mekall," Tallo Thaan responded arrogantly, getting up from his seat. The indigenous population was froglike in appearance but of human size.
Tallo Herrich Thaan was a member of one Larral's most powerful families. Mekall had worked for him in the old days. Tallo had no love for humanoids, but they had managed to go from a hate/hate relationship to one of grudging acceptance, Tallo for Mekall's talents, Mekall for Tallo's money.
"I'm very sorry for my delay," Mekall stated, stopping short when he saw Tallo's inflated body mass.
Though they were the same height, Tallo managed the feat of looking down his nose at Mekall, dismissing Mekall's apology with an indignant wave of his hand.
"I've heard a rumor that you have a Jedi here," he croaked ominously, eyeing the humanoid as though he was viewing a lab specimen.
"A Jedi," Mekall scoffed in equal yet almost adequately respectful disdain. "What would I be doing with a Jedi? More importantly, where is one supposed to be able to get one? If there is a Jedi on the market, I would have to look into that."
The Thaan considered the tenor of Mekall's response.
"May I offer you a libation, Tallo Thaan," Mekall asked, apparently unruffled.
"No," Tallo replied, "I have no need. You would do well to consider your position," he warned.
Mekall met his glare pacifically. "My position remains as it has been. I am here to serve. Only the method of that service has changed. And I do appreciate your respect for my decision," he said, knowing Tallo did not respect him or his decision.
Tallo continued eyeing him suspiciously for a moment, then proceeded to unpuff. "This is well," he concluded.
Mekall smiled his special reserved smile of client- blinding reassurance.
"This is well," the Thaan repeated, as was his way. "We do not need that kind here."
"On that we agree," Mekall concurred with a touch of relax-we're-all-friends-here Force. "The Jedi are the last thing we need on Larral."
Tallo grunted his accord. "Now," he changed the subject, not about to have wasted a trip out here. "What have you heard about the TihSeejian Node?"
It took over an hour to get rid of Tallo Thaan. An hour well spent, Mekall reasoned, what with the way it began. Tallo had seemed satisfied Mekall knew nothing of the Jedi. Estimating how many hands the information must have passed through to get to that level, Mekall was fairly certain the Thaan would not be bothered to pursue it further. If he does, there are ways to deal with that too, Mekall thought. He had gone through a lot to get to be who and where he was. He did not intend to lose it over this. Damn Dharuje. Not content with having used Obi-Wan almost to death and then having made a profit by betting him against what Mekall was sure had been far more than he acquired him for, the Ecenian was shooting his mouth off about it. Or perhaps it had been one of the two men who had observed their exchange. More likely, he supposed. It was true Dharuje had no sense of proportion. If there was more to be had, Dharuje had to have it. However, he was smarter than shooting himself in the foot. This kind of knowledge, once public, tended to make its bearer disposable. Mekall wondered who he might have to dispose of to make that abundantly clear.
Putting the meeting from his mind, Mekall looked over to the information Yls had left which now lay neatly piled on the table under the holoreader. Thank the gods for Lure, he chuckled easily to himself.
Plenty of reading left to do, Mekall thought. Maybe later. He wanted check in with Lure. He had to do something about his hangover. He felt terrible, cold and hollowed out. Mekall reached through the Force to Obi-Wan and found he was still sleeping. Just as well. He locked the hardcopy and the 'reader up in a drawer before leaving the room.
Out in the shop, Mekall lost himself in the work as he and Lure tried to get caught up on their roster of assignments, which now included a bit of industrial espionage for Tallo Thaan. Mekall was forced to take a break when his stomach suddenly shifted into contention with his head for most aggrieved bodily part status. He emerged from the small downstairs 'fresher several shades paler than when he had gone in.
"Rough night?" Lure inquired drily.
"I may have to give up this fast paced lifestyle," Mekall grinned. "I'm just going to -" he swallowed hard against another spasm, "see if I can do anything about -" he did not manage to finish before he had to leave the room again.
Mekall stopped in the galley on his way upstairs to fix himself a cup of a chai which had stomach settling properties. In his room, he erased the morning's note from the datapad and sat for a time on the bed beside Obi-Wan who had not moved a muscle. Little wonder, Mekall mused, running his fingers softly over Obi-Wan's cheekbone and across the side of his hair, after everything he's been through.
He got up carefully and went over to the window. Sinking into lotus position just out of the reach of a beam of Larral's grimy sunlight, he looked back at Obi-Wan, then closed his eyes.
It did not take long to cleanse his system, but once that was done, he took time to meditate on himself and his path, which he had not done in longer than he cared to recall. When he surfaced from his meditation, Mekall found it was dark out. Obi-Wan was no longer in bed and the clothes he had left for him were gone.
Hearing Obi-Wan's voice followed by a burst of Lure's deep laughter, Mekall headed toward the stairs. Damn Jedi, he thought, make themselves at home anywhere with anyone. Practically a total blank and still a diplomat.
Settling his face into something which he expected to pass for neutrality, Mekall rounded the corner. Obi-Wan was at the table, Lure leaning against the counter. They both tensed when Mekall entered.
"I see you've eaten," Mekall said, manhandling his apparent failure at impassivity over into a small smile.
"Yeah," Lure said, "Obi-Wan was . . ."
He kept speaking, but Mekall was not listening. He had thought last night's healing had not caused the bond to deepen. Now, he gravitated toward the table as though someone had caught him up in a tractor beam.
"I figured I better feed him," Lure's voice faded back in. He looked from Obi-Wan to Mekall as he became aware he was talking but no-one was listening.
The two men stared intently at one another.
"Mekall?" he asked.
"Hm?"
"If you're back, I'm gonna go."
"Right," Mekall answered emptily.
Unwilling to leave it at that, Lure clapped his hands together. It had the intended effect. Both men jumped and turned his way.
"What?" Mekall asked.
"I said if you don't need me, I'm gonna go," Lure restated.
"Sure," Mekall told him.
"Good night then. Good night Obi-Wan," Lure said.
"Good night," Obi-Wan replied.
Lure left the room shaking his head, but as usual, kept his opinion to himself. Mekall went after him.
"Lu -" Mekall began.
Lure stopped and turned around. "Look Mekall, if I don't need to know, I don't wanna know, you know. It's your life."
"That's the problem," Mekall responded cryptically.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Lure softened a little.
Mekall smiled indulgently. "You're already doing it," he said.
Lure returned the smile in kind and started into the workshop to collect his things. Mekall was right behind him.
"I was thinking with what Tallo Thaan said this morning, it might be a good idea if we took a trip into Qasch to scout around," Mekall said.
"Not gettin' out much lately?" Lure baited him.
Mekall only smiled. "Not much," he affirmed. "Tomorrow night?"
"No," Lure replied, "can't. Night after?"
"Good," Mekall said, "Just -"
"Yeah," Lure agreed, "So - "
"Sure," Mekall confirmed and he turned to leave. "Night."
"Night," Lure said again, watching Mekall go, trying not to think about what he had seen in the study. He had not meant to pry and his written Standard was not that strong, but he had been unable to help reading while he was cleaning up. The study had been such a mess he could not leave it. Lucky he had done it too, as he had no sooner finished than Tallo Thaan's pilot had been at the gate.
Lure wanted to believe this week had made Yls as nuts as the boss, but evidence to the contrary was mounting rapidly. Could that nice wreck of a kid really be a Jedi? If he was, what did Mekall know about it? Could what he said be true? The more Lure thought about what Mekall could do, the more sense it made.
Mekall went back up the hall toward the galley, stopping when he found Obi-Wan in the study.
Obi-Wan was sitting in what Mekall was annoyed to discover he thought of as Obi-Wan's chair. Obi-Wan looked up as he entered, unease all over his face.
Mekall started to speak, but Obi-Wan cut him off.
"Your bed?" Obi-Wan asked.
"You were sleepwalking," Mekall explained. "I didn't want you to get hurt. That way, if you had gotten up again, you would have woken me. I was pretty drunk."
"Sleepwalking," Obi-Wan said skeptically. "The last thing I remember is meditating."
"You fell asleep. It happens a lot with beginning meditation. After all you've been through . . . I took you upstairs," Mekall responded, taken aback by Obi-Wan's mistrust.
Which only made Obi-Wan more uncomfortable. "To your bed?" he asked.
"No, to yours. But later you got up. I found you in the 'fresher.
"The scratches?" Obi-Wan asked insistently.
"I found you in the 'fresher, and -"
"And?"
"You were hurting yourself."
"I was." Obi-Wan could not even begin to picture it. He stood to confront Mekall.
"You tore yourself up."
"Tore?" Obi-Wan looked at his arm for confirmation, not willing to believe what Mekall was saying. "This healed spontaneously?"
"No," Mekall replied, quiet in his reluctance, "I healed you."
"You . . ." Obi-Wan repeated, his anger becoming apprehension. "When you found me, that's what happened, isn't it? That's why I felt beaten up but I didn't look it."
"I -" Mekall began to protest, then simply said, "Yeah. Yeah."
Looking like the wind had been knocked out of him, Obi-Wan returned to his seat. "It's very disconcerting. I mean, I can't - I feel it - but I can't remember and then you tell me - "
"I understand," Mekall assured him, "but I couldn't leave you, it. You were bleeding. You'd been -" He demonstrated, running his nails down his forearm. It left white lines in their wake that turned angry red and stood out against his skin.
Obi-Wan followed the gesture along Mekall's arm and then raised his eyes to study Mekall's face determinedly, not sure what he was looking for. He felt there was more to the situation that he should be picking up. Wisps of ideas, like specters, eluded his grasp. Something he almost knew, but not quite. Something unknown and at the same time familiar. It was unnerving and increasingly frustrating.
"In my sleep," Obi-Wan repeated.
"Yeah," Mekall told him.
"And you fixed it."
"Yes," Mekall said, taking a seat as well. He looked at the floor, then at Obi-Wan.
"What does Yls do then?" Obi-Wan inquired when Mekall's eyes rose to his.
"Puts the pieces back together when I fuck up," Mekall admitted.
"Did you fuck me up?" Obi-Wan volleyed.
Too early to tell, Mekall thought. "How do you feel?" he asked aloud.
"All right," Obi-Wan replied. "Tired of that question."
"Then I guess I didn't," he answered Obi-Wan's query.
Obi-Wan grudgingly released a smile, almost relieved.
"Remembering anything more?" Mekall asked.
"I think I was dreaming," Obi-Wan said, "but when I woke up it was gone. I can't - It isn't - Something is -"
"Easy," Mekall reminded him.
Obi-Wan exhaled the tension. "This is very frustrating," he commented.
"I suspect that's an understatement," Mekall responded.
Obi-Wan smiled. It was, to say the least, but the way he had said it reminded him of . . . of . . . Blast. He dismissed it of necessity and refocused on Mekall. "You were meditating?"
Mekall nodded.
"All that time?"
Now Mekall smiled. "When you're centered and in the moment, a minute's an hour's a day," he replied.
Obi-Wan looked mystified.
"It's not that way," Mekall explained, leaning forward, "when you're centered in the moment, time isn't the same. Not the way you're thinking about it. You open yourself up and it's all there and it's all there is."
Which was true, but as he said it, Mekall reconciled himself to the fact that before the past week, he had not meditated like that in a long time. In actuality, he hardly meditated at all anymore. When he did, it was generally for more straightforward, even mercenary purposes. Why now? he wondered. Was the entire reason for it seated across from him with a slightly befuddled look on his face?
"Don't worry about it," he advised Obi-Wan. "As long as you're not pushing for anything you can't get it wrong."
Obi-Wan's expression lightened.
"How long were you awake before I came down?" Mekall asked him.
"I'm not sure. About half an hour, I think. Why?"
"I was wondering how long you slept."
"So far, about a week," Obi-Wan joked.
Mekall smiled at the flippancy.
"I don't mean to be ungrateful," Obi-Wan smiled back a little guiltily.
"Ungrateful," Mekall said, finding himself aggravated by Obi-Wan's courtesy. "You have nothing to be grateful for. Somebody beat you and dumped your body. All I've given you is oxygen and a half way decent bed."
"More than that," Obi-Wan responded, chastened.
"If you thank me again, I'm going to punch you in the nose."
"I'm sorry."
"That's my line," Mekall sallied.
Pleasantly surprised by the swift mood shift, Obi-Wan grinned.
"I'll tell you what," Mekall said. "I'll try to stop apologizing if you'll agree to stop thanking me for everything."
Obi-Wan smiled his agreement. Mekall had a way of making the entire bizarre situation bearable.
Mekall found himself once again gazing into Obi-Wan's eyes which had turned greener as he relaxed. Mekall's breathing quickened. Fighting the sensation, he said, "Well, it's a start. Do you want to try meditating again?"
"Do you?" Obi-Wan responded.
Not on your life, Mekall thought. He said, "I think I've had enough for today. This one's for you."
"Floor?"
"Or chair. Wherever's good for you. I told you, I was pretty drunk," Mekall reminded him.
Obi-Wan smiled slightly again. He opted for the chair.
"Just breathe? Obi-Wan asked, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as he let it out.
"And relax," Mekall added. "Feel your breathing. Follow the breath as it goes in and out of you. Let everything else fall away. Let it all go," he coached.
The Jedi once again found his way into the meditation easily. Without thinking, Mekall began moving toward Obi-Wan. The draw was powerful and what had happened the night before had made it more so. Silently berating himself, Mekall reversed and backed toward the door. He might not be able to take his mind off Obi-Wan, but he could take his body to another room.
(continued in part 4)