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Rating: G
Disclaimer: Lucas.

"Promise me that it's all true."

The voice came from the, until now, silent figure across the room. The figure had been let into Padawan Kenobi's sick room at the request of his master, Qui-Gon Jinn. I, being the healer in charge of his case vehemently objected to this arrangement. However Master Jinn insisted for reasons I couldn't fathom.

I agreed under the conditions that it would be while Padawan Kenobi was held in the bacta tank where she could not touch or disturb him. Having the person who owned Kenobi as a slave, the very person for which I was attempting to deprogram Kenobi from, be in the same room as him was utterly repulsive.

A few short but impossibly long months ago, the young padawan was captured in the midst of a pirate fight. His master was an absolute wreck and proceeded to try and tear the galaxy apart looking for him. Qui-Gon had just about given up hope of finding anything other then the story of his padawan's demise.

Then one day out of the blue a ship of a known slaver family landed in the heart of Coruscant at the temple and out stepped the heavily robed and masked scion of the feared family. Behind her, dressed in the blue silks of a pleasure slave, came Kenobi.

As a mind healer, I found the mental bonds that slavers place on a person absolutely repulsive. As the particular healer trying to use delicate measures of force influence to try and break those ingrained bonds, I had a stake in this. I found the idea of having his former slave master in the same room as him laughable. I felt the woman should have been sliced in half on sight.

However, the second that the figure walked into the room I was hit by a wave of the force bringing with it a clear revelation. This woman didn't purchase him. Owning a slave was as repulsive to her as it was to me. Despite the fearsome figure she cut of flowing dark grey robes, darker gloves and expressionless dark grey mask, inside she was soft and caring.

She cared deeply for the man in the Bacta. Loved him in fact. Upon entering the room she had ignored me and marched straight for the tank, where she had stood motionless and silent for an hour, just watching him inside the tank.

"Is what all true?" I asked softly. I sensed some very deep emotional scars in this woman. The healer in me cried out to help her, despite my first impression.

"That he truly belongs here. That he'll have a place and respect. That this is his home and is loved here." She asked. Something in her voice conveyed the desperateness of her need to be assured that she was doing the right thing.

As a healer, I could read what she was really asking. Promise her that he'll have a better life here then she could ever give him. Promise her he happier here then with her.

"Yes." I replied softly, "I can promise you that."

One dark gloved hand appeared from beneath her robes to touch the glass as gently as if she were touching a priceless work of art. I felt a part of her put at rest. She wanted him to be happy more then she wanted to be the one to make him happy. The margin between those warring needs was a very thin one, but it was there.

To me, that made all the difference in the universe. I felt a wave of love and care emit from this woman for him.

"You love him." I said softly. "Is that why you returned him to us?"

"Yes and No." She said softly.

I understood. She was already inclined to try and find where he came from long before she met him. Falling in love had simply given her both extra incentive to find his home and yet made it that much harder to give him up.

"Why did you purchase him?" I asked, trying to pry the story out of her. Perhaps if I got her part of the story, it might give me a tool I need to aid in healing the Padawan.

"I didn't, he was a gift." She managed to get out. "From my father."

"Why?"

She continued to stare enraptured by the figure in the glass. "I was badly hurt in an accident as a child. From that day forward beauty in all things gives me a wide birth. Since I did not have it and could not attract it to me, my father purchased it for me."

I felt my soul start to ache for this girl. I began to see how being the scion to a criminal family can leave one even more trapped then the slaves they owned. Justice and the light are deprived to one by sheer birthright. That doesn't mean that someone in that world can't hunger for it.

No wonder she fell for him. By his own memories he remained true to his calling as a kind thoughtful young man. Not to mention the lad was handsome. I have no doubt that even after the mind wipes and the retraining; he remained a polished dashing young lad.

I suddenly knew why she wanted to see Obi-wan so desperately. It was the same sensation that a prisoner condemned to life would ask the guards to pause one last time outside of the gates. She wanted feel the warmth of the sun one last time.

"Is that why you wear a mask?" I asked curious.

"Yes." She whispered. The eyeholes were arranged so one couldn't even see her eyes. Only twin pits of pitch black set in a dark grey expressionless face.

I touched the glass with her and looked at him, "Did he ever see your face?"

"No." Was her soft reply, "I couldn't do that to him. Not even my father is that cruel to his slaves."

"Did he ever ask to see it?" I pressed.

She nodded, "Twice. Once when he first was given to me, and once before we landed here."

"Why didn't you grant him his request?" I asked softly "I can understand refusing the first time, but why the second? Surely you knew each other well enough by then." I pressed.

The masked face tilted so it faced the floor. I watched a tear fall from an eye slit to splash at our feet. "I didn't want the memory of him shuddering at the sight of my face. I wanted to maintain that one illusion."

"Which is?"

The mask tilted back up so it was staring at the figure in the glass again, "That it didn't matter to him what I looked like."

I nodded, "So rather then risk that, you wouldn't show him."

Her gloved fingers traced his features through the glass, "Is that such a crime? The comfort of having a friend might be taken away, but never that of having had one. I just wanted the memories to remain untainted."

I was reluctant to do this, but I touched her elbow with my hand. "Come, he'll wake up soon."

There were already signs of this as his limbs started to twitch in the bacta. He had been through intensive surgery to remove the network of implants his masters had placed in him to keep him from running away. The woman had handed over their location and how to remove them the same time she returned him.

She didn't protest my guiding her to the door. Only kept her eyes lingering a moment longer before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

I walked her to her ship. We made silent companions on the way. Upon reaching the landing pad she stopped at the ramp and said, "Wait here."

I did as she asked. A moment later she returned carrying a plain wooden box. Despite the simplicity of its design one can always see expensive quality. She pressed it to my hands. I had the feeling that if she didn't give it to me quickly, she might not have been able to part with the box at all.

"I found these just before we left my home. Please give them to him." she whispered before hurrying onto the ship. The ramp closed and the ship took off, disappearing into the distance.

I looked at the box; there was no lock on it. I knelt on the ground and placed the box there. After staring at it for a while I quickly undid the latch, wondering what was inside.

Lying in the finest crushed velvet were three silk drawstring bags. I saw by the shape of the largest one that it was his light saber. Feeling over the silk I deduced it was severely damaged but she had salvaged what pieces she could.

I had to wonder what it cost her in family defiance and money to get this object. She must have risked much to obtain it.

I looked at the two smaller bags. Picking up the smallest I felt a small heavy shape inside of it. Upon opening it I saw it held a small black rock. I knew from the memories I saw in the apprentice that was a thirteenth birthday gift from his master.

I had to smile. My opinion of her was improving by leaps and bounds. Despite the fearsome heritage she had a caring heart. She wanted to not just give him back, but give back everything that meant something to him.

The last silk bag looked empty. I lifted it up and felt the contents inside. The feel of it sent a shock through my entire body. She couldn't have possibly gotten this.

I opened the last bag and pulled out the object. Still bloodstained from when it had been ripped off his head by his captors was his padawan braid.

~*~*~*~*
-Tia

Please I need feedback on this desperately. This could easily explode into a long series if I give my muse free rein. I need any and All ideas. (Kill it, continue it, where it should go..ect)