Undone

Mortal Coils

Day 157

The blade was falling, its arc marked by a blur of crimson, its destination inevitable. Obi-Wan stared mutely at his own end coming by the saber that had trapped him, tormented him, marked him. He waited only for that eternal moment. There was no escape for him this time, yet even as he thought those last thoughts a voice rang out through the open air.

"Obi-Wan, no!"

Horror, prolific, and unimaginable.

A body blocked the path of the deadly blade's arc. A body protected him, sacrificed itself, its skin, its blood, its pain. There was a hiss. The smell of ozone and burnt flesh. Obi-Wan's stomach turned as the pungent odor assailed his nostrils. The body slumped forward towards him falling limply, letting gravity have its will, but not before he saw them. Two blue eyes stared at him accusingly then eyelids fluttered shut never to be opened again.

"Master..." he whimpered, but he was not heard for no voice could reach the dead.

"Do you see now, little Jedi? Do you see how worthless you are? You let your master die. Who will want you now?"

"I'm sorry, Master. I'm so sorry... please... please don't go... don't leave me... Master! Master!"

"Master!" Obi-Wan yelled his body rocketing off the soft pillows of his bed. Instantly he felt a small hand upon his chest lightly pushing him back down, his own body too tired, too weak and wrung out to resist even this slight touch. A low keening wail escaped his lips.

"Master..."

"Easy, young one," a familiar voice cooed. "Safe you are. Rest now you must."

Obi-Wan turned his head to the soothing tones and found a pair of gimlet eyes staring at him.

"My fault..." he muttered. "My master is dead and it's my fault," he whispered his insides turning cold and his short limbs trembling. A wave of comfort and calm pushed into him from a warm spot under the hand on his chest.

"Your fault nothing is. Calm you must be," Yoda ordered serenely, his touch and presence still working to soothe the young Jedi, but Obi-Wan was not soothed. He was not calm. How could he be? His master...

"But... my master..."

"Dead Qui-Gon is not. Saved him you did."

"But..."

"Sssh," Yoda interrupted. "Explained things will be, but now rest you should. Yes, sleep, young one. All will be well again," the ancient master spoke warmly. Obi-Wan wanted to trust the wizened master, but his heart still ached with questions and uncertainties. He felt the push of the master's Force suggestion and he was unable to fight it. All too soon he was drifting back into the darkness of sleep, but this time, thankfully, he didn't dream.

* * * * *

"Shall we wait for Master Yoda?" Master Mundi asked quietly, his cultured tones ringing in the large Council chambers. Master Gallia shook her head, her headdress swaying rhythmically from the gesture.

"No," she answered her expression somber, her usually melodic voice tinted with sorrow. "He intends to stay with the boy until his master wakes."

"Yes, we should move forward," Master Windu intoned as he rested his elbows on his knees, his hands interlaced under his chin. "Knight Vor, your report?"