Chapter 4: The Apprentice's Pain
Medical droids buzzed with precise efficiency around Anakin's prone form. The prosthetics lab filled with the sharp scent of sterile equipment and synthetic nerve endings. Obi-Wan stood at the periphery, watching as Doctor Rig Nema prepared the cybernetic attachment.
"The neural interface is quite advanced," she explained, adjusting microscopic connections. "But the integration process can be... intense."
Anakin lay silent on the medical bed, jaw clenched. His Force signature radiated anxiety, fear, and beneath it all, a simmering anger that made Obi-Wan's chest tighten with memory.
"I'll assist with pain management," Obi-Wan stepped forward, placing a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "If you'll permit me?"
Anakin's eyes met his, confusion mixing with trust. "Since when do you know healing techniques, Master?"
"You might be surprised what one learns when properly motivated." Obi-Wan began channeling the Force, drawing on knowledge gained during his exile. He'd spent years studying ancient healing methods, preparing for a day he'd hoped would never come. Now those same techniques might help prevent that future.
"Beginning neural linkage," Doctor Nema announced. "Brace yourself, Knight Skywalker."
Pain exploded through Anakin's Force signature as synthetic nerves connected with organic tissue. His back arched, a cry trapped behind gritted teeth. Dark tendrils of the Force responded to his suffering, reaching out with seductive promises of power and relief.
Not this time.
Obi-Wan deepened his Force connection, wrapping Anakin's consciousness in layers of healing energy. He guided the pain away from Anakin's core, dispersing it into the Force while simultaneously accelerating the neural binding process. The technique required incredible precision – one slip could damage the delicate connections forming between flesh and machine.
"Remarkable," Doctor Nema murmured, monitoring the integration readings. "The tissue acceptance rate is unprecedented."
Sweat beaded on Obi-Wan's forehead as he maintained the healing trance. Through their bond, he felt Anakin's surprise at the depth of support, the realization that his master was sharing his burden in a way he never had before.
"Almost complete," the doctor announced. "Final calibration sequence initiating."
The prosthetic hand twitched, fingers flexing one by one as neural pathways activated. Anakin's eyes widened, wonder temporarily overwhelming pain as he watched the mechanical digits respond to his thoughts.
"How does it feel?" Obi-Wan asked softly, maintaining the healing connection.
"Strange." Anakin raised the hand, turning it in the light. "Like it's mine, but... different. More sensitive in some ways, less in others."
"The synthetic nerve endings will require adjustment," Doctor Nema explained. "But with proper training, you should achieve full functionality. Perhaps even beyond normal parameters in some areas."
....
..
The private training room felt different in the afternoon light, its usual pristine emptiness now filled with rehabilitation equipment. Anakin stood before a table laden with objects of varying sizes and textures – training tools for his new appendage.
"Begin with something simple," Obi-Wan suggested, selecting a smooth metal sphere. "Focus on pressure control."
Anakin reached out with the prosthetic hand, mechanical fingers wrapping around the sphere. The metal crumpled instantly, crushed by hydraulic strength he hadn't yet learned to modulate.
Frustration flared in his Force signature. "This is useless! I can't even—"
"You've had that hand for exactly three hours," Obi-Wan interrupted, his tone gentle but firm. "Would you expect a youngling to master Form I in their first lesson?"
The comparison gave Anakin pause. "No, but..."
"Then grant yourself the same patience." Obi-Wan placed another sphere on the table. "Now, before you reach, immerse yourself in the Force. Feel how it flows through both your organic form and the prosthetic."
Anakin closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His Force signature shifted, expanding to encompass the cybernetic limb. This time when he grasped the sphere, it remained intact.
"Good." Obi-Wan nodded approvingly. "The prosthetic doesn't just replace what was lost – it offers new possibilities. Feel how the synthetic nerves interface differently with the Force?"
Understanding dawned in Anakin's expression as he manipulated the sphere, testing its weight and texture. "It's like... having an additional sense. More mechanical, but clearer in some ways."
"Exactly. Now, try this." Obi-Wan demonstrated a modified Force manipulation technique. "Channel energy through the prosthetic's neural network. Let it become a conduit rather than just a tool."
The sphere lifted from Anakin's mechanical palm, hovering steadily. His eyes widened as he sensed the difference – the Force flowing through artificial pathways, creating new patterns of connection and control.
"That's..." A genuine smile spread across his face. "I didn't know this was possible."
"There's much we can explore." Obi-Wan brought out a series of smaller objects. "But first, you need to master the basics. Precision before power."
They worked through the exercises methodically. Each success built confidence, each failure offered lessons in control. Obi-Wan watched closely, noting how Anakin's frustration gradually transformed into focused determination.
"Your connection to the Force remains unchanged," Obi-Wan observed as Anakin successfully manipulated a delicate crystal. "The prosthetic simply offers a new path for expressing it. Remember – you are not diminished by this change, only adapted."
Anakin paused, prosthetic fingers flexing thoughtfully. "How do you know so much about this, Master? These techniques... they're nothing like what the healers suggested."
"The Force has many aspects we rarely explore," Obi-Wan replied, choosing his words with care. "Sometimes adversity forces us to look beyond traditional teachings." He gestured toward the training mat. "Ready to try something more challenging?"
Anakin nodded, moving to the center of the room. Obi-Wan retrieved two training sabers, tossing one to his former padawan. The prosthetic hand caught it smoothly – progress already.
"Now," Obi-Wan ignited his blade, its low-power beam humming softly, "show me Form III, but focus on how the prosthetic affects your balance."
Anakin began the familiar sequence of Soresu moves. His style remained aggressive, but something had changed. The mechanical hand processed input faster than organic flesh, allowing for microsecond adjustments in blade angle and position.
"Feel that?" Obi-Wan circled, observing each movement. "The synthetic reflexes create new possibilities. Instead of fighting the difference, incorporate it."
Their blades met in a controlled sequence. Anakin's eyes narrowed in concentration as he adapted to the prosthetic's unique characteristics. Each pass grew more fluid, organic and mechanical elements harmonizing through the Force.
"Your frustration feeds the dark side," Obi-Wan noted as Anakin's mechanical fingers clenched too tightly on the hilt. "But acceptance... acceptance leads to mastery."
The words struck deeper than intended. Anakin's rhythm faltered, emotions churning beneath his surface. The training saber lowered slowly.
"I dream about it," he admitted quietly. "The duel. Every night, I see Dooku's blade falling, feel the pain..." His prosthetic hand flexed unconsciously. "The anger helps. Makes the fear less..."
"Anger is easy," Obi-Wan deactivated his saber, approaching his former padawan. "It offers power without price – or so it seems. But that path leads to places you don't wish to go, Anakin. Trust me in this."
Something in his tone made Anakin look up sharply. "You speak as if from experience."
Dangerous territory. "I've seen what the dark side does to those who embrace it. Dooku was once a respected Jedi Master. Now look at what he's become."
"It's not just the arm." Anakin's voice dropped lower. "I feel... lost. The Code says to let go of attachment, but how can I let go of..." He stopped, fear spiking in his Force signature.
"Of Padmé?" Obi-Wan suggested gently.
Panic flashed across Anakin's features. "Master, I—"
"Sit with me." Obi-Wan settled cross-legged on the training mat, gesturing for Anakin to join him. "Let's discuss what truly troubles you."
Hesitantly, Anakin sat. The training room's afternoon shadows lengthened around them, creating a pocket of privacy in the fading light.
"The Code speaks of attachment," Obi-Wan began carefully, "but perhaps we've misinterpreted its meaning. There's a difference between love and possession, between connection and dependency."
"But the Council says—"
"The Council advocates for complete detachment because it's safer, simpler." Obi-Wan stroked his beard, choosing each word with precision. "But consider: does your love for Padmé make you weaker, or stronger? Does it cloud your judgment, or give you something worth fighting for?"
Confusion rippled through their Force bond. "You're not... you're not going to report this to the Council?"
"I'm more interested in helping you find balance." The words carried weight from decades of reflection. "Your feelings for her are natural, Anakin. The question is: can you love without trying to control? Can you accept that everything, everyone, must follow their own path?"
Anakin's flesh hand clenched. "You mean accept loss? Like this?" He raised the prosthetic.
"Loss is inevitable. Change is constant. But how we face it... that defines us." Obi-Wan leaned forward slightly. "Your arm can be replaced. But if you let anger and fear rule you, if you try to control everything and everyone around you – you'll lose something far more precious."
"My soul," Anakin whispered, the words carrying unexpected weight.
"Yes." Obi-Wan felt hope stir – perhaps this time, the lesson would take root. "So we train. Not just your body and your connection to the Force, but your heart. Your understanding."
Silence fell between them, heavy with possibility. Finally, Anakin spoke. "I don't understand why you've changed, Master. Since Geonosis, you're different. Wiser, somehow. But..." A small smile touched his lips. "I think I like this version of you better."
"We all grow, Anakin. Sometimes through pain, sometimes through joy." Obi-Wan stood, offering his hand. "The question is: what will we become?"
Anakin grasped the offered hand with his prosthetic one, the pressure perfectly controlled. Progress, already.
"Same time tomorrow?" Anakin asked, newfound determination threading through his Force signature.
"Tomorrow, and every day after until you're ready." Obi-Wan smiled. "But for now, I believe Senator Amidala was hoping to visit this evening. Something about discussing security arrangements for Naboo?"
The gratitude in Anakin's eyes made everything – the secrets, the careful planning, the weight of future knowledge... worth it. This time would be different. This time, love would save the Chosen One, not destroy him.
As Anakin left the training room, Obi-Wan remained for a moment, watching the last light fade.
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