None of Us Perfect 4/9

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction Stories--Classic JC Board (Reply-Only)' started by elismor, Sep 10, 2002.

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  1. elismor Jedi Youngling

    Member Since:
    Aug 26, 2002
    disclaimer in part 1

    --

    None of Us Perfect Part Four
    Elismor July 2002

    Obi-Wan opened his left eye, then squeezed it shut again as a
    blinding and painful light shot into his skull. It was followed by a
    wave of nausea that nearly sent him puking over the side of the bed,
    but gentle hands eased him backwards and placed a cool cloth against
    his forehead.

    "Easy, Master Jedi. Rest." The voice belonged to a young woman and
    was unfamiliar to him, but Obi-Wan obeyed, glad to indulge himself
    with a moment of unbridled misery.

    He heard a door open and felt Eliel's sudden presence in the room.
    Maybe she could explain what was going on...where he was and why he
    was feeling like he'd just been dropped on his head from the spires
    of the Jedi Temple.

    "Eliel," he said, opening his eye again. The light was still there,
    though, and his head threatened to burst from it.

    "Try it now," she answered. "I've dimmed the light."

    He eased his eye open slowly and searched the blessedly dim room for
    her form. "Where am I?"

    "The Lars moisture farm."

    Ah. The Lars farm. Of course. "Where's that?"

    Eliel snorted out a small chuckle. "Tatooine."

    Tatooine. Right.

    "You have a concussion, Master Jedi," the strange voice said. "Things
    will make more sense when you've had time to recover."

    Obi-Wan raised himself on an elbow, peering at the young woman
    sitting by his bed. His right eye, he deduced from the lack of vision
    and the throbbing pain, must be swollen shut, but he could make out
    the outline of her shape in the darkness. "And you are?"

    "Beru Whitesun," she answered.

    He tried to furrow his brow in thought, but the gesture sent more
    pain reverberating through his skull so he settled instead for the
    direct route. "And do I know you?"

    Across the room, Eliel chuckled again. "Thank you, Beru. Why don't
    you get some sleep? I'll sit with him for a while."

    He heard some rustling as they switched positions and squinted in
    involuntary pain as the soft click of the door shutting shot through
    his head like a pulse from a blaster pistol.

    "Lie down," Eliel ordered, sending him backward into the pillows with
    a firm, but gentle shove.

    "What happened?"

    "The Tuskens didn't like us poking around that village," she
    answered. "You took a couple of good whacks to the head. It probably
    would have killed someone whose skull wasn't as thick as yours."

    "You're not funny, you know," he answered, wincing.

    She leaned forward, studying the livid bruise on his face. "So you
    keep reminding me. I can probably help get rid of some of the pain,
    if you want."

    He eyed her suspiciously. Eliel was not a trained Healer, though she
    was rather adept at manipulating the Living Force.

    "Relax," she grinned. "Ando's done it to me four times a day for the
    past ten days. I think I can wing it enough to let you sit up
    without puking out your last meal. It's either that, or we sit here
    in the middle of nowhere until you're well enough to fly again and
    the trail goes completely cold."

    He held up a finger, silencing her effectively. "If I recall
    correctly, the Lars homestead is a good distance from the Tusken
    camp. We are east of nowhere, Master Jensei."

    "East of nowhere, but a hell of a lot closer to it than to Anchorhead."

    "All right," he sighed. "Give it a shot." Anything, anything had to
    be better than the pounding ache in his skull.

    "Your confidence is under-whelming, Kenobi," she frowned. "Start by
    meditating. Reach into the Force and let it flow over you."

    Obi-Wan lay back against the pillow, feeling somewhat awkward at the
    thought of sharing meditative space with her, and closed his good
    eye. He'd been through this process in the Healer Hall several times
    over the course of his life. It was the standard method of
    preparation for a healing treatment and, ordinarily, he could fall
    into a light trance quite easily. This time, though, it took quite
    some effort to wrestle his thoughts into submission. The pain
    certainly wasn't helping matters any, but it was
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