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His world was red. Fire and blood. Pain without end.
Indistinguishable murmurs faintly echoed through his mind. The voices beckoned him out. Out of the depths of his being. As he neared the surface, the pain swelled, bombarding him with bursts of flame. A radiation storm that flashed out from his core. Blackness slammed him back into hiding.
...
Something cool trickled over his lips. He licked at it. Bitter liquid dribbled over his swollen tongue and down his throat. He tried to swallow. Coughing racked his body and drove the air from his lungs. He fought. Fought to breathe, to drive back the darkness. Air shuddered back into his lungs as the darkness won.
...
Dark and light danced on his eyelids. He blinked his eyes open and attempted to focus on the shadows dappling the wall. Wall? Where ... ?
"Mama! Mama! He's awake!"
A blurry form appeared above him. Obi-Wan squinted, his vision throbbing in and out of focus in time to the pounding in his head. Dark eyes in a tanned face. A finger touched his lips.
"Don't move. Don't talk. Rest." The husky voice soothed his mind, silenced his questions.
The pain. The constant pain ebbed and flowed. He sank into it and let it wash over him. This time, he welcomed the blackness.
...
Agony lanced through his midsection. His cry was cut short by a hand clamping over his mouth. His eyes flew open. A dark face filled his vision.
"Silence." The deep voice was hushed, urgent. "One sound will kill us all."
Obi-Wan blinked.
He squeezed his eyes shut as hands jostled him. His breath came in short bursts as shards of fire sliced along his nerves and pierced his mind. He groped for the Force, stopping suddenly. He might sense ...
The hands lowered him beneath the floor. The Jedi stifled a moan. Thick wooden planks were fit snugly into place above him, the darkness relieved by a single sliver of light tucked between the boards. Something sharp dug into his thigh. He didn't dare move. Every breath was laced with threads of anguish. Pain is a friend. My closest friend. Force help me.
Shouting. Banging. Tromping. Crying. The sounds charged into the room. A woman's voice pleading. A muffled demand. A man's angry reply. Heavy steps.
A boot covered the slice of light. Dust floated into Obi-Wan's eyes and nose. He clamped his jaw tight, refusing to sneeze. Tears ran down his cheeks and pooled in his ears. Eternity filled each second. His breathing sounded like it was being amplified a dozen times over. He stared unblinking at the sole of the boot and recited the Jedi Code silently, while thumps and bangs rang out above him. Finally, the muffled voice spoke again. The boot disappeared.
Silence crammed into the hole, deafening the Jedi. He strained to stay alert, but spots danced across his vision, melting together, fading to black ...
Light jerked his eyes open, blinding him. He swallowed a groan.
"It's all right, friend," a male voice said. Large hands gripped Obi-Wan under the arms. "You can scream now, if you need to."
The man hauled Obi-Wan out of the hole, a female voicing caution. The Jedi sucked air through his clenched teeth. He drew a shaky breath when the man stretched him out on a pallet. "T-takes ...," Obi-Wan whispered. "Takes too much energy t-to scream."
A booming laugh rolled over the Jedi, jump-starting the hammering in his head. A weak smile was all he could manage. The female tucked a blanket around Obi-Wan and wiped his brow.
"I'm sorry you're in so much pain." Her dark eyes were warm. "The only bacta treatment available is in the village. We couldn't risk that." She removed a canteen that was strapped to her hip and held it to Obi-Wan's lips. "This local remedy is all we've been able to give you." A bitter taste, vaguely remembered, filled Obi-Wan's mouth. He swallowed, grimaced. Her smile flashed white teeth in a tanned face. "Rest so the medicine can work."
As she rose, Obi-Wan asked, "Why?"
Puzzlement filled her face.
He continued, "Why am I still alive?"
The swarthy man stepped beside the much smaller woman and rested his arm across her shoulders. He stared at Obi-Wan for a moment before answering. "The fates aren't finished with you."
Sudden weariness stole over Obi-Wan. "W-why are you helping me?" His question trailed to a whisper.
The woman replied, "You can't even keep your eyes open. We'll talk later, Jedi."
...
So they know I'm a Jedi. Obi-Wan leaned against the plaster wall of the near empty room, slowly spooning a thin broth. It seemed to be the same time of day as the last time he'd awakened. How many days had passed? Had there been more than just the one search?
Each question increased the pulsing pain in his head, so he stopped asking them. Instead, he focused on what he knew. That he'd suffered a severe concussion was a given, considering that every movement brought pain and vertigo crashing down. He winced at the thought of crashing. How? No, that was another question. He turned his attention to the messages his body was transmitting. Several broken ribs. Twisted knee, maybe hip. Bruises and lacerations ... everywhere.
Sitting was not agreeing with him. It was pure stubbornness that kept him upright. Obi-Wan grimaced. How often had his master lectured him on that point? Though his master's words had rung somewhat hollow when Obi-Wan considered Qui-Gon's own intractable nature. But he didn't want to go down that path right now. Didn't want to think about what was lost. He let the empty bowl fall to the pallet and slouched against the wall, embracing the pain that exploded from his ribs and trembled along his limbs. He could feel the Force hovering within reach and ignored it. Maybe pain would cauterize the wounds and bring balance to his soul. Was there enough pain in the galaxy to do that?
He hoped so. Because fear was dogging his heels. And the dark whispers were growing bolder. Master, help me.
Obi-Wan knew exactly what his master would say. Don't center on your anxieties. Focus on the moment. It had become his mantra, the only time, the only way, he could center himself and wield the Force with the confidence of old. No matter what Yoda said, Obi-Wan knew he wasn't ready to face his old Padawan. Might never be ready. And that was why he'd run. And failed.
The Jedi's hand moved reflexively to rub his beard. Fingers ran along a clean-shaven jaw. When? Again, his gaze skimmed over bare feet and drab green clothing. Again, he wondered what had become of his lightsaber. His fingers lingered, tracing a jaw line that had been hidden for twelve, no, thirteen years.
"It makes you look younger."
The woman entered the room, followed by the man, who ducked through the low doorway. They sank to the floor to sit cross-legged before the Jedi. Both were clad in rough-spun white tunics and leggings, with sandals on their feet. Both were deeply tanned. Black hair. Dark brown eyes set in broad faces. Obi-Wan let his hand fall into his lap and waited.
After a moment the man spoke. "I am Calder beDirk. This is my mate, Liv."
"Obi-Wan Kenobi."
The couple exchanged a glance.
Arching one brow, Obi-Wan asked, "How high is the bounty, now?"
Calder huffed. "Bounties do not concern us, Jedi. But while you stay amongst us, you must have a name that doesn't so clearly mark you as an off-worlder. The harvest is upon us, and with it the workers. We cannot know what ears might perk at such a name. To some, perhaps, you would be seen as ... the door to a life of ease."
"That high," muttered Obi-Wan. He watched a small child totter into the room, thumb in mouth. The toddler swung around his parents and plopped onto the Jedi's legs. His sharp intake of breath startled the child. He waved the mother away and smiled at the little one, who popped his thumb out of its nest and grinned. The Jedi asked, "What would be preferable to Obi-Wan?"
"Bi'wan. Bi'wan." The toddler grabbed Obi-Wan's outstretched finger. "Bon. Bon."
"Ben," Calder said with a smile. Obi-Wan met his gaze and nodded.
"Ben!" the child declared gleefully.
"Yes, little one. I am ... Ben." The name rolled off his tongue with surprising ease.
The child slid off Obi-Wan's thigh and began to play with the bowl and spoon.
"Why would you risk so much for a stranger? Especially knowing who I am and the danger I could bring?" Obi-Wan resisted the urge to test their responses through the Force.
"Do you know what planet you crashed on, Ben?" Calder asked.
"Dakshee."
"What do you know of my planet?"
Eyebrows drawn together, Obi-Wan cast about in his memory. "A member of the Republic, but standoffish. Never asked for help, even when civil war threatened, ah, ten years ago, was it? Though, I seem to recall working with various Daksheen relief teams on other worlds needing assistance."
Liv said, "We are happy to help where help is needed. But we don't like being told how to live, even by our own government."
"The Republic respected that," Calder said. "We chaff under this new order. And we refuse to bow to their rules and demands. They have no right. No right."
"But they have much power," Obi-Wan pointed out.
"Power to kill us, perhaps. But never to break us."
"The Daksheen have chosen a hard path."
"And you have chosen an easy one?"
Obi-Wan sighed and shifted slightly. Heat flared across his midsection. He groaned and stretched out on the mat, his arm draped across his eyes.
"I thought the Jed ... you people could heal yourselves," whispered Liv.
"Some better than others," replied Obi-Wan. He inhaled slowly. "But I dare not even try. There are some hunting me who could ... sense the disturbance. I don't even know if they are nearby, but to search for them would surely draw them here."
"Take Jak to the kitchen for a treat, Livi." Calder's voice was firm.
Obi-Wan listened to the shuffling, the whispers, the quiet "Ni-ni, Ben," and the silence that followed.
"The last thing I remember is the pod hurtling toward a wall of rock." Obi-Wan forced the strain out of his voice. "How did I survive?"
"We were gathering the herds to return them to the plains when we saw your ship explode. This pod you speak of hit the mountainside and bounced down to the valley, causing a small avalanche. It looked like a giant hand had crumpled it. We found you trapped inside a cocoon of air-filled cushions. Your blood had painted them red. When I wrapped my arms around your middle to pull you out, you groaned. Good thing, or we might have left you for dead. The straps that had held you in place had broken your ribs. The cushion beside your head had burst and there was a large gash above your ear. We couldn't wake you."
"How long was I unconscious?"
"A week. We didn't expect you to survive. It wasn't until three days ago that you showed any signs of responding."
"And the pod? Could you take me to it?"
"No. Imperial soldiers took everything. Even the body."
"Body?" Obi-Wan's gaze snapped to the Daksheen. A furious tattoo started up inside his head with renewed vigor.
"A vagrant had died the night before in a brawl in the village. We ... borrowed his remains and dressed him in your clothes."
"That would fool no one."
"We made it as difficult as possible to identify the body."
The pounding in his head grew until it was difficult to focus. Obi-Wan blinked as he waited for Calder to continue.
"We placed the body in the pod and burned it all."
"But they still search." Exhaustion swept over the Jedi.
"They are very thorough."
"Or they suspect the truth." Obi-Wan hesitated. "Did you leave my weapon in the pod?"
"No. It is safely hidden."
What little energy remained whooshed out of the Jedi's body, like oxygen exposed to vacuum. "Then if he's here, he knows I live."
"He?"
As his eyes drooped closed, Obi-Wan whispered, "Someone you don't want to meet."
