| Swings & Roundabouts |
| ***** The two sets of fingers, one gnarled and scared like tree roots, the other thin and delicate as saplings, wrapped tightly around each other in a gesture of intimacy and enduring friendship. “So.” An-Lin was saying, her other delicate hand wrapped around a mug of steaming tea. “I want you to promise to look after her.” “I have promised a thousand times…” Davin began but then paused watching An-Lin’s face, “but if it'll make you happy, I’ll promise again. I'll take care of Hwa-Lin.” “Don’t let her get lost.” “I won’t let her get lost.” “No wild parties.” “No wild parties.” “No drinking sprees.” “No drinking sprees.” “No expeditions across the wilds of Coroscant to something only you think is good.” “No unnecessary expeditions.” “No loudly printed shirts.” “No loudly…what? That’s just unfair.” Davin pouted childishly until he saw the half hidden grin on An-Lin’s face. “Almost got you.” She smiled and Davin grinned happily back at her. The door buzzed, as it always did before opening, and Tara appeared behind it grocery bags in hand. The grip between the two masters tightened. “I got your fruit.” She announced nosily, “I got petal-fruit and blue milk, and some of that hot sauce you like and…” She paused, visibly sniffing the air. “Hi Tara.” An-Lin said softly, announcing herself before Tara made the conclusion. “Hello.” It was a unsure reply and Tara’s eyes narrowed towards the pair. Davin’s hand slipped out of the grip and back across the table to his lap. An-Lin shot him a strange look and smiled half-heartedly at Tara. “I’ll got put these in the fridge.” The happy bright enthusiasm was gone. An-Lin watched Davin’s former padawan make her way cautiously to the kitchen. “I should go. I only have four or five hours to pack and still make it in time for that transport.” An-Lin stood up, graceful as always. Davin stood slowly, using the table for support, and grabbed his two canes before following her to the doorway. Pressing the button for the door, she flipped her long black hair over her shoulder. “Goodbye Davin.” She smiled over her shoulder, but her eyes were sad and worried. “An…” He reached out and grasped her hand, stepping through the door and out into the hall to join her. “I will miss you.” It was almost plantive. “I will miss you too Davin. But you need to tell Tara, and soon. Don’t let her find out the hard way.” The fingers intertwined briefly again, and the kiss was light and furtive. “And…” she added, “Look after my little sister.” She smiled once more, and the fingers slipped apart unwillingly. Then she turned and was off, before further goodbyes could be made. “I will.” Answered Davin softly behind her. But which question he was answering, An-Lin wasn’t sure. ***** Over the course of several months, she’d spent countless hours clandestinely watching the tall, powerfully built man. In a handful of different locations, most of them being pubs, bars and cantinas it came as no revelation that she ended up here at the Hell’s Chance. Not the best of drinking establishments but certainly not the worst of them. There were few chairs in which to sit and rest, though the owners probably saw it as a means of cost containment as any furniture was viewed as a weapon when a brawl broke out. She was happy enough to find a small nook to stand in with a ready view of the bar and a practically clean table that didn’t wobble too much and spill her solitary drink. He was at the bar, drinking and talking with friends. One of them must have told a joke, the raucous kind that men seem to find so outrageously amusing, for her man (at least she thought of him that way) burst out into a baritone laugh that could be heard above all the rest. Or perhaps it was only that her ears were just attuned to his deep voice. Smiling into her still half full glass from across the room she nearly choked when he and one of his friends turned her way. With supreme effort she averted her glance, letting her eyes slowly go over the entire bar in casual observation. It was all she could do to restrain herself from twirling and giving him her back, an all too obvious indication that she’d been watching him. Silently she counted to ten before allowing her gaze to return to where he stood. Only he was no longer there, he was walking toward her, his long legs bringing him closer impossibly fast. Shocked into immobility, her fight or flight response kicked in to late. By the time she attempted to flee he was already there and a large calloused hand gripped her arm, holding her in place. Before she could utter a protest, her breath was stolen away as firmly muscled arms swept her off her feet, pressing her closely against a broad and brawny chest. “Do you think me blind?” His voice deep and resonating as he spoke quietly into her ear. “Did you think I hadn’t seen you? That I wouldn’t notice how you happen to turn up nearly every night? You’ve been following me… Lona?” The last word was whispered, warm and breathy like a caress on her neck. Her eyes widened in astonishment and a small amount of fear begin to creep into her mind. How did he know her name and that she followed him? Okay, she wasn’t the most adept on covert operations, even if it was only to indulge fantasies but she was sure he had never even looked in her direction before. And how could he know her name… the name only her closest friends used for her. “Would you be surprised to know that as you’ve been watching me I’ve been watching you?” He said gently and she could hear the smile that played on his lips. The knot worry and fear that had tied itself in her mind began to ease. For all she knew of him he was not an angry or volatile man, but she knew better than to think there be a chance for her. “And I’ve learned much about you… ,” his voice took on an even huskier tone and though it seemed impossible to get any closer, he was whispering directly in her ear already, she still felt an increase in intimacy that caused heart beat a cadence in her chest. “A great deal about you,” he continued, lowering his head and brushing the short-cropped beard that framed his leonine features across her neck. There was no way to arrest the involuntary shudder this caused and when she felt his lips…. Leona released her own shuddered breath and chuckled lightly. Enough of writing for now, she could hear the approach of her padawan. “Master, I’ve completed Mia’s preliminary exam.” The hazel-eyed young woman held out a folder. “Master, are you feeling alright?” The padawan’s brow was furrowed with concern. “Yes I feel fine Dimalle, what makes you ask?” The diminutive woman gazed up from the file. “You seem rather flushed.” Leona had more success than the character she’d been writing about with reigning in her reaction. A slight cough hid the smile that wanted to erupt and a comment about it being rather warm in the infirmary was enough to dissuade any further discussion. “What are your findings on Padawan Ardnt?” “She’s healthy physically, though according to her file she’s lost a small amount of weight over the last six months. But I suppose that would be expected under the circumstances…” she added sadly. Rising from her chair, Leona placed an arm around the taller girl’s waist as they moved out into the hallway. She offered a supportive hug and encouragement through the Force. Dimallie’s compassion had been one of the biggest reason she’d been chosen as an apprentice and there was no doubt she would be an admirable healer. Leona continued reading the file as they walked while her padawan learner gave her report. It was only a few steps from the exam room when Dimallie walked right into a small metal cart outside the room knocking numerous medical instruments to the floor. Now if only the girl could outgrow that awkward clumsiness she suffered from. Tendering a empathetic smile to the young woman as she retrieved the instruments, Leona patted her shoulder then walked into the exam room. “Hello Mia,” the healer greeted the girl sitting on the exam table, noting the way she immediately stopped her legs from bouncing nervously. “Healer Leona,” the brunette teenager replied with a hesitant nod. She’d hoped this would be the very last of the visits to the healers and her expectant demeanor was more than highly evident. “Well, you should be happy to know the healers are going to be discharging you from medical disability and you will be allowed to return to active training as soon as your Master deems fit.” “Great!“ Mia exclaimed with more energy than Leona had seen of her before. Hopping to the floor Leona nearly expected the padawan to literally run out of the room, but after a step she turned and asked, “Master Sifo-Dyas is off planet on a mission, will Knight Adi Gallia’s permission do?” “Certainly,” Leona jotted notes in the file. “Let Adi know that I’d like to discuss the possibility of your seeing one of the Soul Healers…” “What?!? But you just said I was fine to return to training…” Mia was unable to hide the distress this idea caused. Nobody willingly went to a spook. Only those with issues , she thought uncharitably were forced to undergo a head exam. “I said medically Mia. I‘m not sure you‘ve had sufficient time and guidance to deal with the issues of what you gone through emotionally.” Mia winced at the small healer’s use of issues. That’s where it all lay didn’t it. If she protest too much it would only make her look all the more in need of therapy. “I believe that should be a decision of Master Sifo-Dyas when he returns.” Mia stated in a calm and logical manner. That’s a quick one there, Leona nodded her consent, scribbling more notes in file. “I’ll give you a release form for Adi and send Master Sifo-Dyas a communiqué regarding an appointment with the Soul Healers.” Handing the form to Mia, Leona watched the girl depart under what was only short of running, barely missing Dimallie and her armful of medical apparatus. “Will she be ok,” Dimallie inquired, a skeptical look on her face, obviously the entire conversation had been overheard. “I believe so padawan, Force willing with time and friends. Let’s see the sterilization of those,” Leona motioned to the load Dimallie carried, “and then we’ll see what other tasks need be done.” Dimallie frowned at that, knowing her master could always find something to keep her busy, but then her face brightened considerably. “Remember this is only a short shift tonight master.” Leona looked up at her taller apprentice, “Right you are my dear,” she returned a bright smile, thinking pleasant thoughts of going back into the literary world of Raquel Paris or perhaps the an even better idea of the off-chance of seeing Qui-Gon tomorrow. ***** "…And it's only a day out, master." Simeon was saying, trying his best to convince his master that it would be in everybody's best interests to let him go on the planned padawan outing the following morning. A quick glance at his chrono revealed exactly how close to becoming morning as it was! A few more hours and then the big day would have dawned at last! "It's not like we've been planning it for long…a couple of months or so maybe, but not much more! So, what do you say?" An-Paj pushed Jemmiah's chair along towards Evla's apartment, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip. An enthusiastic Simeon usually spelled trouble, and for all that he was pretending that the day meant nothing to him he was clearly buoyed by the idea. A day away from cleaning, from menial chores, from getting up early in the morning and checking on the progress of the patients…and for what in return? A trip to the amusement park of all places??? "I think you're insane." An-Paj replied simply. "But master, it's vital that I go!" Protested Simeon, his stride lengthening to keep up alongside Jemmiah's chair. "I mean, what if someone gets hurt?" "All the more reason not to go in the first place, padawan." An-Paj countered drolly. "It's called preventative medicine." "If I'm at hand then if anything did happen I'd be there to patch them up…you know, as a sort of token healer amidst the party, so to speak." An-Paj tried to ignore the shriek of the wheelchair, shaking his head to clear all thoughts. He could understand Simeon wanting to have a day off. Contrary to popular belief the jedi were not workaholics, and whilst they existed to serve others they also had lives of their own. A little downtime was needed every now and again…a little maintenance to keep themselves ticking over. The choice of destination was an odd one, however, and not one that An-Paj thought entirely suitable. Even whilst experiencing time to themselves the image of the jedi had to be maintained, which was why the notion of several rag-tag padawans running all over an amusement park wouldn't sit well with the masters. And as for Obi-Wan, well, An-Paj felt certain he'd have his work cut out trying to persuade Qui-Gon to let him go under the circumstances… "Very well." An-Paj agreed dubiously. "I suppose by way of officially representing the healers I can let you go…" "Thank you, master!" Simeon cheered, not acting with particular dignity. "But I want it on record that if I hear of anything - absolutely anything - untoward happening on this trip then I will swap you for one of the cleaning droids. Is that understood?" "I thought you already had." Simeon beamed happily. "Pardon?" "I said I won't do anything to make you mad." Replied the padawan. An-Paj pushed the chair towards Evla's doorway, halting just outside. His hand reached out to depress the chime, taking time to reflect that it wasn't all bad news where the outing was concerned - "At least you can't go." He regarded Jemmiah's astonished face. "It's not like you can spend a whole day hobbling about the amusement park. Besides which, Qui-Gon would never let you." Jemmiah considered for a moment. "Blisters can heal." She replied confidently after a while. "And I can wrap Qui-Gee round my finger." "I don't see it happening…" An-Paj tried to let her down gently, stepping back a pace as the door slid open with a gentle hum to reveal the suitably puzzled face of crèche master Evla Sovalla, whose hazel eyes were instantly everywhere: seeing everything yet understanding nothing. Her daughter in a wheelchair! Accompanied by An-Paj and his padawan??? He watched her struggle for a moment with her initial alarm before managing to ask the obvious question in a voice that was perhaps more controlled than she was actually feeling inside. "What has happened?" Evla's melodic voice rose slightly at the end. "Why is Jemmiah in a wheelchair! Is it serious??? An-Paj, tell me what has occurred!" "I had, er…a bit of an accident." Jemmiah confessed, embarrassed. "So I see!" "My feet melted…" "What?!?" This time Evla's voice soared to the heavens. "Translation: she has blisters." An-Paj stepped in to offer enlightenment. Jemmiah had a nasty way of tormenting those she loved with as little information as possible, and what she did provide was rarely totally accurate… "Is that it?" Evla demanded, letting her arm flap down at her sides. "You sound disappointed! Anyway," Jemmiah looked around the room as if searching for objects she might conceivably knock over or damage, "I'm not pretending that it's the end of the galaxy as we know it! Okay, my feet got a little overcooked. No big deal. A day or so resting them and I'll be just dandy…" She began to wheel the chair forward a few rotations but Evla planted herself firmly in her path, halting her progress. "Stop right there!" She held up her hand. "I'm not having you wheeling yourself all over the place leaving big trail marks on the rugs. You can get out and hobble over to the sofa whilst Simeon takes the chair back to the infirmary." Jemmiah turned round to face An-Paj almost accusingly. "You promised!" She reminded him, most aggrieved at the way he seemed to waver. Evla looked from one to the other, taking in An-Paj's untypical hesitancy and Jemmiah's determination, even although the latter was hardly out of character. "Promised?" She stood akimbo, placing one hand on each hip. "Promised what, precisely?" The vanquished An-Paj gave a reluctant sigh. "Very well. You may keep hold of the chair for the time being. But I want it back tomorrow, is that understood?" "It's tomorrow that I need it!" Jemmy set her face stubbornly. "Isn't that right, Simeon?" "She needs it tomorrow." Agreed Simeon, nodding solemnly. "Otherwise I won't be able to get around!" Continued Jemmiah, jiggling the wheels repeatedly back and forth with a series of agitated hand movements. "She won't be able to get around." Repeated Simeon, almost chanting. "And I don't want to spend tomorrow cooped up inside…it seems such a silly thing to spend a day indoors just because of a few hideous blisters, doesn't it?" She fluttered her eyelashes in exaggerated fashion, letting An-Paj know that she wasn't in a bad mood…yet. "Silly. Very silly." Simeon concurred. "Are you working his strings?" An-Paj gestured distrustfully at his padawan, "or are you using some Corellian variation of a jedi mind trick? Why is he repeating everything you say?" "He'll live longer if he does." Jemmiah winked at Simeon, before turning her attention to An-Paj once again. "An-Paj, sir? You have always been a bit of a hero to me. I mean, considering that virtually the first thing I ever did at our first meeting was to bite you, I think you've been very understanding. You're a great healer…you put people at their ease and you take the time to explain things that could very well seem frightening to ordinary folks. And you have those really neat little antennae things going on up top." Jemmiah patted her own head. "But most of all you understand what makes people tick…" "Well," An-Paj almost blushed at the steady stream of compliments, "I, er…only do what has to be done in my capacity as a healer…to know what treatment is required…" "Right. And the fact is that I require the services of a wheelchair." Jemmy began to pick at the tread of the rubbery wheel surface, much to Evla's amusement. There she was trying to solicit the use of the temple's property for who could say what purpose, whilst openly vandalising it at the same time! "Oh…if you won't do it for me, please do it for Evla, who won't get any peace from my whining if you don't! Or do it for Simeon, who won't look nearly so fetching minus his arms and legs…" "Hey, what have I done?!?" Simeon laughed and took a huge step backwards. An-Paj rolled his eyes towards the heavens and finally ceded to her demands. "Very well. But you are not having this chair. It was never right since that time you ran it into the turbo lift…you can have a repulsar chair." He suggested, not entirely sure what to make of the unbridled joy that inexplicably brightened the Corellian's eyes. "That way it might cut down on all the squeaking and unwanted noise." "Is this the chair or Jemmy we're talking about?" Simeon asked, dodging back further still to avoid a playful thump in his midriff. But the physical attack never came, much to the padawan's surprise - although it didn't take long to figure out why. Smiling as if in some kind of trance, Jemmiah was evidently sitting there thinking of all the possibilities that a repulsar chair afforded her. Nobody would have to push her like a baby - she could go wherever she liked. Not to mention as fast as she wished… "I have a bad feeling about this." An-Paj was heard to mutter under his breath. Evla bent down and hooked her arm around Jemmiah's back, helping her out of the chair whilst the teenager performed an absurd little hopping ritual from foot to foot, trying to keep the weight off her blisters. "A repulsar chair, huh?" Jemmy's face puckered into an impish grin. "I like the - oww-oww-owwch - sound of that!" "Just don't use it inappropriately." An-Paj warned her, trying not to think of his burned food and six impatient wives that were surely long-awaiting his return home. "Having heard of your exploits with your head master's air car I'm in two minds about letting you in charge of anything remotely technological!" Jemmiah stumbled forwards, her expression a curious mixture of pained enthusiasm. "Don't worry," she promised him breathlessly, "I'll take good care if it…the chair will be as precious to me as if it were Obi-Wan himself!" "Oh, dear." An-Paj closed his eyes. Jemmiah allowed Evla to lead her towards the sofa, letting the crèche master arrange the cushions behind her so that they would give the most comfort possible. It was faintly embarrassing to have somebody fussing and fretting around you in such a manner when there were amused guests standing mere meters away, watching all that was going on: especially as it was merely a bad case of blisters! But Evla just couldn't help herself; she simply had to show affection at all times. The persona of the crèche master and Evla Sovalla were inseparable: one could not be siphoned from the other. Well, thought Jemmiah to herself, let her fuss if she wants. The more she did so, the more she would feel sympathetic to the idea that she and Ben needed some time together. Persuading Evla was not the problem. Qui-Gon would be the main obstacle. "Thank you for seeing me home safe." She blew a kiss to her two rescuers. "I'll look forward to that repulsar chair in the morning! Oh, before you go, however, I've got just one question…" An-Paj stopped suspiciously in his tracks, resting his head against the doorway, listening in dread. "How fast do repulsar chairs go?" ***** An-Paj finally walked back in, seeing Bal Jolenar in the waiting area of the healer’s ward. “Good evening, Master Healer,” Bal said, holding a small cloth against his chin. “Padawan Jolenar,” An-Paj said, eyeing the apprentice. “How’s the wife?” When An-Paj shot him a look, Jolenar added, “Pick one.” “I just saw An-Afor on the way back,” he said, a bit annoyed. “And she’s lovely, as always. From now on, though, I’d ask something a little more specific.” “Yes, sir,” Bal said. “Now what did you do?” Bal moved the cloth, revealing a slice down the side of his chin, blood smeared around it. “I just need to borrow a bacta pack or something. Master Martuf ran out.” “Seven levels of laser precision guidance on a razor, and you can still do this to yourself?” “There are four blades, for that closest shave ever. Sometimes technology is just no match for clumsiness and an extra blade.” An-Paj cleaned the cut, then swabbed some bacta in it. “It’s not going to need synthflesh,” he said. “Hold on, though.” Bal jumped as he felt An-Paj reach out toward him with the Force, then felt the skin begin to knit itself back together. Reaching up to his face, he felt his chin, where the cut had disappeared. “Thank you, Master Healer.” “You’re welcome, Padawan Jolenar,” An-Paj said. Jolenar rubbed his chin. “Smooth as a baby dewback.” An-Paj handed him several bacta packs, a few salves, a package of bandages, a package of synthflesh, and an antibiotic. “There. Now don’t come back here unless you’re about to lose a limb.” Jolenar smiled. “I guess I’ll be seeing you… in about a month, then?” He shot the Master Healer a smile. “Only if you’re lucky,” An-Paj shot back, deadpan. Nessa Menel-Luin stepped over to a data access terminal and began pulling up a list of scheduled events for the next week. Immediately, she found what she was looking for in the “Seminars and Workshops” category. The Force and the Art of Lightsaber Maintenance Instruction in Fencing Techniques and the Proper Upkeep of the Jedi’s Weapon Two hours before the half-hour lunch break, another three afterwards. Instructor: Ethe Rostov, Jedi Master Selecting the class, she entered her archivist’s passcode, allowing her to edit student records. Since the class had not taken place, she accessed a planned schedule and the list of students enrolled. She scanned down the list, following the list of names. “Jolenar, Jolenar… there it is.” She clicked on it, allowing her to edit it, and took his name out. She quickly put in the code for an open space, freeing up a spot for enrollment. Quickly, she logged out, and went back to her regular work. “Sorry, Master Rostov,” she said to herself. Yu Martuf grabbed a plate and began walking down the line through the commons. He picked up a cup of fruitsauce, a glass of ardeberry juice, and the shaak strips he had been pushing to Jolenar. He picked up one of the strips, and took a bite. “And he wanted to go order littler ones from the place with the cartoon Jawa.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with these.” He took another bite, then sighed. “I’d forgotten how much of a hassle Padawans could be.” ***** Mia left the gym clutching the signed release form from Adi. She had relayed to the Knight what Healer Leona had said and to her relief, she had signed the form but only on the proviso that Mia did not over do it. As Mia did not view the upcoming trip to the amusement park as ‘overdoing’ it, she was able to promise with a clear conscience. Maybe now she could start training again but after watching the other padawan’s train she planned to visit a private gym on Coruscant first before attempting to catch up with the others from her class. She knew that some other padawans also preferred to use training facilities outside the Temple and made a mental note to ask where if she saw them at the amusement park. The amusement park, now the visit to the Healer’s was out the way, she and Rem could concentrate on the plan for their escape from the Temple. Once they had worked this out, she only had one other thing to think about. The Soul Healers. Mia frowned as she waited for the turbolift, if she refused to go, then they would really think that something was wrong. Anyay, Sifo-Dyas was not expected back yet and as she had told Leona, it was something for him to decide. It gave her enough time to work out what to say, “That’s settled then.” The lift doors opened, “They really will send me there if they catch me talking to myself.” “Where?” An amused voice asked. Mia jumped. She had been so preoccupied that she had not noticed the other occupant. “The Soul Healers.” “Oh,” he replied with a smile. “You’re Mia, aren’t you?” She rolled her eyes. Great, the whole Temple knew. “Yes, does everyone know?” She asked with a sigh. Simeon shook his head, “It’s standard practice. Did you get a clean bill of health?” Mia nodded and changed the subject. “I see you survived pushing Jemmiah’s wheelchair.” He laughed, “Just about but she did threaten to run over my head.” “Oh.” Mia was curious. What’s wrong with her?” “Blisters.” She pulled a face, “Yuck.” “But,” Simeon continued, “she wangled a repulsor chair out of Master Paj, so I’m off the hook.” “So, she’ll still be going to the amusement park?” “I’m sure she will find a way.” He replied with a grin. “Are you going?” He nodded, “In an official capacity, as healer to the sick and injured.” “Injured?!!!” What kind of amusement park was it? Simeon laughed. “I hope I won’t be needed.” The doors opened, “This is my floor. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow Simeon?” With that Mia headed for Master Fisto’s apartment to see Rem. |
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