Upon returning to the temple Obi-wan was ushered to the healing halls. He was well enough to walk, and at Vos's insistence they allowed him to, instead of being taken on the stretcher they brought for him. Obi-wan found himself still caught in the haze induced by the series of unfolding events. The temple didn't seem real to him, but he felt it's floor beneath his feet, smelled the fresh clean air, felt the warmth of it's halls sink into his skin, battling the permafrost that settled in his bones.

Part of him expected to see Jinn waiting for him around a corner, with dark, expectant eyes. By the time he made it to the healing halls his gut was in knots, torn between the horrid unease he felt awaiting Jinn's appearance, and the wretched knowing that the man was gone. He was dead. He had killed him.

He felt distance come between himself and the world again, as a healer gently guided him to sit on the med cot.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry his soul chanted, not much thought as to whether the words reached his lips or not. He suspected that perhaps they did from the way the healer regarded him with such gentle horror.

"Rest now, Obi-wan." She said sweetly, more than a simple suggestion. As weak as Obi-wan was he stood no chance against even the slightest force manipulation. He fell unconscious before his head even hit the pillow.

….

"Master-" Obi-wan shouted as his eyes flew open, his lungs working hard to pull in as much air as they could. It started him into a coughing fit, as if he hadn't taken a deep breath in days. Whatever dream had been haunting him evaporated without a trace of knowing, only the word that left his lips and the dew of sweat on his brow to note what it more likely than not entailed.

"Obi-wan, it's good to see you again." Vos said, a sad smile on his face. "You've been out for weeks."

"I have?" Obi-wan croaked, holding a hand to rub at his sore throat.

"You have." Vos said. "And the healers have fixed you up, as good as new!" He remarked, smiling with wide arms.

Obi-wan moved to sit up on the med cot, his body feeling heavy and slightly atrophic, but not as bad as he would have thought. The inhibitor was gone, he realized, his hand exploring the flesh of his neck, not even finding the ridge of a single scar where it had been. It was as if it had never been there at all.

A wave of grief came crashing down over him, as his soul clung onto every ounce of light he was privy to. It no longer fed him in a trickling stream, but it was everywhere, everything. He felt so unworthy of its presence, so irredeemably soiled. He had missed it so much but now as he felt its embrace he only felt the stark contrast of himself against it. He thought it might have been better to never feel it again.

The healers hadn't just taken the inhibitor and fixed his injuries. He looked down at his arms, his ankles, not a single scar or blemish to be seen. The pockmarked scars that littered his arms from being drugged for so long had disappeared. He pulled open the front of his med tunic. All the scars he had accrued during his time away from the Order were completely mended. Strangely, he felt resentment for it.

They were taking something away that he could never get back- visible proof of the hell he had endured. He should have been happy, but it only made him feel like that much more of a joke. He was a fake, and now even his own skin was telling lies.

"A change of clothes is right here for you. I'll leave you so you can get changed." Vos said, dismissing himself.

Obi-wan was making him uncomfortable, he could see it in his eyes. The Order wanted to wash him clean of all the things that were inflicted on his body, his soul. And they tried hard, truly they did. The healers did a remarkable job. Deep down he hated them for it.

After dressing Obi-wan stood nervously at the door, apprehensive, near the edge of panic. He recalled the unease he saw in Vos's eyes. Hell, everyone's eyes since he had been brought back to the temple. He knew how rumors in the temple spread like wildfire- holier than thou Jedi Knights, Masters, Padawans and younglings. All of them indulged in rumors from time to time. After Jinn fell, after Obi-wan killed him himself and all the things that had transpired, it would be impossible for it not to be the talk of the temple.

The thought of it made Obi-wan furious and horrified all at the same time. Maybe the worst hadn't passed at all. Maybe surviving everything after Jinn was the real horror. There had been a simplicity in following his Master's commands, doing as he was told, being used, suffering in silence. Those were all things he knew how to do. But that was all over now. Life was changing. He would have to change as well.

Of all the things he was sure of, he knew that he could handle it. He knew he was not fragile. He was the least fragile thing in the entire temple. But no one would see him for that, only for the things that had been done to him. But Obi-wan decided that didn't matter. It couldn't matter.

His hands held in shaky damp fists at his sides, Obi-wan emerged through into the medhall, finding Vos there to greet him with Master Windu and Yoda at his side. They all wore the same, sickly apologetic look that made Obi-wan want to disappear. Instead he held steady, and addressed them in a calm, Jedi-like manner.

"Masters," Obi-wan said, bowing slightly. He could feel unease in the air loudly, even more than before. He wanted to yell and scream at them for it, to stand there and bleed himself dry, to just cease to exist.

"Is there something wrong?" Obi-wan asked in a level tone, his eyes heavy, wary.

Mace and Yoda exchanged a grim, telling look.

Mace looked him head on, the sorrow falling from his gaze so a heavy dread could take its place. "Come with us, Obi-wan. I fear there is much for us to discuss."

….

Obi-wan wondered if it was only natural that he pondered what his life might have been like if he took Jinn up on his offer to train as a Sith. Then he wondered if he ought to be thinking about it so often. It was difficult when others gave him that sorrowful look.

Qui-gon never treated Obi-wan as if he were fragile. He was the only one who didn't look at him as a poor, broken man. Sometimes when Jinn looked at him, he felt like they were the only ones who existed. Other times he could strike horror with just a glance.

It doesn't matter, he's dead. You killed him, Obi-wan reminded himself. He wondered why he couldn't bring himself to hate the man more, especially when Mace told of Zaria's death, and the grizzly details of the account. His broken, empty heart ached for her, even though his capacity to feel anything was severely limited. It didn't quite seem real when he first heard it.

That same night Obi-wan took a personal transport back to Barran-Fa to visit Zaria's grave. It was a beautiful stone structure at the fore of a hill near the palace, surrounded by pink blossoming trees and lush green grass. Inside the structure held an ornately carved sarcophagus at its heart. Obi-wan knelt over it, pressing his palm against the stone lid. His heart broke.

"I-I want to say thank you…" Obi-wan started, choking on his tears. "You never treated me like I was broken. I never appreciated that," he cried, breathing through his sobs.

Now, he would have given anything to have just one person who could see him, and not all the terrible things that had happened to him.

"Goodbye Zaria. I think… I think you were my only true friend." Obi-wan said quietly in a mournful voice.

After spending several hours in silent meditation by her side, Obi-wan returned home dutifully to continue trying to heal as best he knew how. He tried to look past the shock and sadness that others felt towards him, even though it felt like acid inside his soul. Some days were easier than others. Some days felt impossible. But overall after working with the mind healers, he did feel he was getting better.

Six months after Jinn's death, Anakin awoke from his coma with complete amnesia. All he remembered was his name. He couldn't remember his mother's name, or the name of his home planet Tatooine, or any details at all. His mind was a blank slate, and in spite of all the healers tried to do to help him, there was nothing that could be done. Obi-wan thought his memory loss was quite possibly the greatest gift he could possibly have received, though he never said it out loud.

The moment Obi-wan heard Anakin was cleared to receive visitors, he started for the healing halls. His stomach was tied in an anxious knot as he walked through the doors, nearing the boy's room. He could feel him loud through the force. The boy's signature was even broader and brighter than the first time he had encountered him. He had been special before. Now, without the weight of his past on his shoulders, he was a singularity within himself. Easily, he had the raw strength of the entire Jedi Council coursing through his veins. Or maybe even more.

Obi-wan knocked hesitantly before he entered the room to see young Anakin sitting upright on his med sleeper, alert with a smile on his face. A beautiful, pure smile. Not a trace of fear or pity in his bright eyes. In that moment, Obi-wan felt lighter. He felt like maybe, everything would be alright.

"Who are you?" Anakin asked openly, curiously.

"My name is Obi-wan Kenobi." Obi-wan answered back. "Your new Master."