Inheritance

Forced Deprivation

Some limited spoilers from Jedi Apprentice.
No betas, therefore the mistakes are all mine.
See chapter one for disclaimers.

"I have good news. We will be arriving at the Temple within the hour," Mace says as he offers his friend and warm, and rare, smile. "As promised we can take these off of you."

Obi-Wan, who until now had only been staring quietly at the ceiling now turned to his friend, a flicker of hope illuminating the previously dull blue-grey eyes.

"The collar?" he asks his voice quivering slightly. Mace's smile disappears and his more characteristic frown returns. He places a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and sighs.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I thought you understood. The collar has to stay on," he pauses. "I'm sorry."

"Oh," Obi-Wan replies his eyes noticeably dimmer once more. He turns his attention back to the ceiling. "Of course."

He stops and closes his eyes for a few moments as he searches for his center; something that days ago was effortless to find, but lately has proved ever more elusive. He begins to wonder if he ever really had a center at all. Obi-Wan opens his eyes again and turns his gaze back to his friend.

"Yes, it will be nice to move again," he begins then he pulls lightly at his wrist restraints. "If you would."

He offers Mace a weak smile pouring as much sincerity into the gesture as possible.

It is not nearly enough to fool the older Jedi.

"Obi-Wan," Mace starts as he unlatches one wrist then the other. "I... know what you are feeling... what that... thing makes you feel," he continues as he unfastens Obi-Wan's ankles. He then turns and looks his fellow Councilor in the eyes. "I'm here if you need to talk," he offers in a voice much softer than his usual tone. He takes one of Obi-Wan's hands in his placing his free hand on Obi-Wan's back as he helps the Jedi rise to a seated position.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan mutters as he rubs one wrist and flexes his stiff fingers experimentally. Satisfied with the noted dexterity, he slides off the medical couch careful to allow his aching and complaining muscles time to adjust. Mace rounds the bed to stand beside him.

"Go slowly. You have been lying down for quite sometime," the older master admonishes as he reaches out to assist the younger man. Obi-Wan shoots a glare at him that could melt durasteel.

"Mace," he warns as he pulls away from the other Jedi. "Don't," he finishes. Mace's frown deepens as he crosses his arms over his chest, but he remains silent much to Obi-Wan's relief. He had already suffered Anakin's constant hovering and worry and he was grateful for the reprieve when Kix called him away to remove the bacta cast from his thigh. To Obi-Wan's great annoyance, however, Mace entered the medical bay scant moments after Anakin's departure.

Obi-Wan is tired. He is cold and he is miserable and Mace's mothering was wearing on his already fraying patience. No, not patience. His patience had evaporated the moment that infernal contraption was placed around his neck. Mace is getting on Obi-Wan's nerves. All of them were. Both Jedi's presence, well intentioned as their motives might be, were overwhelming and grating to Obi-Wan, but he cannot, must not let them see that if he can help it. Mace studies Obi-Wan closely for several seconds. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but he aborts the attempt when the main door to the medical bay slides open with a quiet hiss.

"Master!" Anakin greets enthusiastically. Obi-Wan nods his response, attempting something akin to a smile through his tight lips. Obi-Wan may not have any access to the Force, but Mace does and he can sense the steady increase in tension from the ginger-headed Jedi.