Chapter Text
Chapter XIV
When One Door Closes...
Adaptation is the key to survival.
Blaster bolts exploded around him but he easily dodged between many and deftly deflected the rest with his lightsaber, bouncing the bolts right back at the advancing army of battle droids and smoothly felling one after another. To his right, Anakin leapt forward into the melee with a whoop, his own lightsaber slashing and whirling about him. Around him droids fell by the dozen, a further dozen flying backward to smash into their fellows as Anakin threw them with the Force.
Farther along the front line Obi-Wan caught Ahsoka's eyes. Smiling, she simply shrugged then rolled her eyes before taking a Force leap herself and disappearing into the crowd of B1s.
Sighing theatrically and shaking his head in exasperation, he bent his own knees and called on the Force to help him leap into the air, several times higher than a normal man could have managed. As he reached the apex of his jump, however, he froze in mid-air, unable to move either up or down.
She appeared before him out of nowhere. Her long hair floated around her face as though blown by a gentle wind, and her eyes glowed like two small flames.
“No.” She shook her head at him, her beautiful face full of sorrow. “This is not where you need to be now.”
Before he could ask what she meant or who she was, the scene around him shifted and spun and then he was in a vast body of water, floating so deep beneath the waves that very little light penetrated the dark waters surrounding him. Ghostly wails sounded all around him but no matter how much he thrashed to look about he couldn't locate the source of the unworldly noises. The depths beneath his feet were black and appeared bottomless. All at once the wails and screams seemed louder, closer, and then body after body was smashing into the sea from above him. Each plummeted past him with unnatural speed, as though they were falling through air rather than water. They were tumbling around him faster now, their ever-increasing numbers quickly blocking what little light remained, their cries cacophonous. He watched those closest to him, watched their dead faces turning to him as they passed, watched their clawed hands reaching out in futile attempts to grasp at him; neither, he discovered, could he reach them, hard as he tried. They were Kaleesh, he realised, as he strained yet again to catch a nearby figure, his fingers missing by the smallest of margins once more. Then, as suddenly as the downpour of bodies had begun, it ceased. The last few ghoulish faces disappeared into the darkness of the abyss below; the whites of their eyes, staring up at him, were the final things to be swallowed by the inky depths.
The silence returned.
By now he should have needed to take in air, but it seemed perfectly natural to him that, so far, he had had no need to breathe. Just then, far above, he saw a massive flash of fire-orange light. It covered the surface as far as he could see and, as it dissipated, Obi-Wan heard a crash not far behind him. He turned quickly to see that another body had been flung into the water, no more than fifteen feet from where he floated. Unlike the other bodies, which had sunk like stones, this one was falling far more slowly – an oddity in itself, as this body was made mostly of metal.
The plating was blackened in places, and the cape badly singed. It fanned out above Grievous as he slowly descended, unconscious but vertical, arms stretched out above him. A shaft of light falling through the water cast him in an ethereal glow.
Obi-Wan hastened to swim to the figure, but it felt like moving through sand – the harder he pushed himself to reach Grievous, the slower his progress seemed. He called on the Force to help him, yet no aid came. By the time Grievous had sunk level with him, Obi-Wan had managed to cover less than half the distance between them, leaving the unconscious General still too far from his reach.
Just as he was redoubling his efforts, Grievous' eyes snapped open. Obi-Wan could feel the fear surrounding him at once. Grievous' eyes were wide with terror and he began clawing at the water around him, air bubbles rapidly escaping through the grilled mouthpiece, his arms repeatedly splitting and fusing awkwardly as he scrabbled.
Grievous' efforts made no impression at all on his rate of descent. When his eyes met Obi-Wan's he reached for him with an arm still fused from the elbow up. Obi-Wan was so close now, their hands mere inches apart.
Each of them reached out, desperately, as far as they could.
Closer.
Obi-Wan kicked for all he was worth.
Just a little farther.
Until, finally, Grievous having fallen so far now that their faces were on a level, Obi-Wan gave one last final kick and the tips of his fingers brushed against Grievous' metal ones...
Obi-Wan woke with a start and sat up. His body was beaded with sweat, his heart was hammering, and the panic he'd felt in his dream remained with him. Gasping, he used the Force to turn on the lights in the room; the shadows receded quickly into their corners. The screams of the falling bodies still echoed in his ears, indeed, it seemed they reverberated around the room. He fought to get his breath back. What was wrong with him? He was terrified, yet unable to pinpoint the source of his fear.
The dream had been alarming but, whilst he had been agitated and eager to reach Grievous before the depths could claim him, it had been Grievous himself, in the dream, who had been afraid and lashing out.
The screaming.
GRIEVOUS!
Without stopping to dress Obi-Wan leapt from his bed clear across the room, wearing only his snug knee-length tan underclothes. He palmed the panel to enter the adjoining room and discovered the door to be locked. It was the work of seconds to free the locking mechanism with the Force, and he was at Grievous' bedside before the door had even finished sliding open.
Never before had Obi-Wan sensed such fear around Grievous – not from the great General himself at any rate, although he regularly inspired it in those around him. Now Obi-Wan understood it was not his own panic that seized him, he was easily able to master and calm himself. The sweat clinging to his body was drying quickly, framing him in an uncomfortable chill.
Grievous was thrashing terrifyingly atop the large four-poster bed. It was as though his limbs had seized up: his legs were stretched straight out, and his right arm pressed against his body while his left, which was split at the elbow, reached out in front of him towards the ceiling. Just as he had looked in the dream, the Jedi realised with more than a little disquiet. Under the water Obi-Wan had had no way of knowing whether or not Grievous had been trying to call out. Well, now he did. He realised instinctually that Grievous had been having a dream that, if not the same, was at least very similar to his own.
Obi-Wan perched on the bed next to Grievous and, closing his eyes, laid one hand on Grievous' left arm and one on his chest plate, entering his mind and calming him gently through the Force, sending waves of reassurance along their connection. He noticed that Grievous' shouts ceased the moment he opened the connection, and the thrashing stopped soon after, but Obi-Wan remained that way for some time, until he was certain that Grievous was resting and relaxed once more. He could still feel the undercurrents of fear lurking beneath the surface of Grievous' mind, but with Obi-Wan's presence there it wouldn't disturb Grievous any further that night.
He watched Grievous for a spell. The cyborg seemed soundly asleep: his eyes moved occasionally beneath their lids, and when he breathed his body shifted in a more natural manner. Beneath his hand, Obi-Wan could feel the beating of the organic heart slow to a normal pace under the smooth plating on Grievous' chest. Looking around, he caught sight of his lightsaber where it rested on the small table and his fingers itched to reclaim it. While he may not have had any intention of using it, it still felt like a small part of him was missing without it. He knew, though, that, for now at least, he would have to cope without it. At least it was nearby, and not lost. Besides, he couldn't begin to imagine all the plots Grievous would accuse him of should he discover it missing. Satisfied that Grievous would continue sleeping soundly, Obi-Wan cast a small sad sigh at his captive saber and quietly moved to the sofa. Only now did he notice the pain in his ankle. He'd given it no thought when he realised Grievous' distress; well, he'd pay for his carelessness now. No doubt it would give Ay-Four-Dee an excuse to jab him with something else tomorrow. No sooner had he thought this than he noticed a movement in the corner of the room by the bed.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked quietly.
“Long enough,” the droid replied as he bobbed back to his own room, dropping a blanket on the sofa next to Obi-Wan as he passed.
Obi-Wan gratefully picked up the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders to fend off the chill. There were still had some hours until morning, and he had no wish to sleep. Instead he settled himself into a healing meditation, ensuring he included Grievous within. This meant that Grievous' rest would remain undisturbed by any more unpleasant thoughts, and that Obi-Wan would feel fully refreshed for the day ahead. It also gave him some serious thinking time.
This was the second dream he'd had concerning that strange woman and Grievous. It needed no great imagination to realise that all those Kaleesh bodies represented those he felt he had perhaps failed as a Jedi, although he knew that he was in no way responsible for events of which he was ignorant. And though it was true that he now pitied Grievous' people greatly, he understood it was not something he should feel guilty about. Likely, it was guilt that had influenced the first part of his dream, placing him where he knew he should have been: back in battle with Anakin. Where Grievous was concerned it seemed a little easier. Obi-Wan had already accepted that, for some reason, the Force had guided him here, to this moment, to help Grievous – however hard a task that seemed. Unsettling as this dream was, it was still far less disturbing than the nightmares which had haunted him over the past week. So many times he'd had to watch as Satine died in his arms, again and again and...
He pushed the thought aside before it began to consume him anew, turning his mind back to the rest of his dream. It was all so confusing. Who was that woman? His old Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had always set much store by dreams and prophecies. How Obi-Wan wished he were here now so he could discuss his dreams with him and seek his advice. It would probably amuse the old Jedi that his straight and practical Padawan had grown superstitious enough to discuss the nature of dreams and their unreadable meanings.
Before he gave himself a headache he turned his thoughts to clearing his mind of all the confusing emotions that had been plaguing him. Eyes closed and cross-legged, he remained so for many hours until he sensed Grievous begin to wake. Fully alert and much refreshed, he stayed in position, as though still deep in meditation, listening to the stirring of movement behind him. He heard the telltale thunk of Grievous' clawed feet hitting the carpet, followed by the metallic snapping sound that accompanied the splitting of his arms – a noise Obi-Wan only recognised as he'd heard it in battle too many times to count. Then the sound had always preceded a four-pronged lightsaber attack, so it was only because he could sense there was no real hostility from Grievous that he did not feel the need to either duck or protect himself.
Obi-Wan's influence was still strong in Grievous' mind and, though now conscious, Grievous had not attempted to eject him. Inside, Obi-Wan could still feel the fear that had woken him during the night; Grievous would be aware of feeling afraid, but for now it would be in a muffled, detached way that couldn't overwhelm or threaten him. Obi-Wan also detected a sense of unease surrounding the figure behind him, which probably had something to do with waking up with a half-split limb. No sooner had he thought this than he heard the sharp snap of Grievous re-forming his arms to two solid limbs. After that there was more movement, a rustle of fabric – Obi-Wan pictured Grievous swinging his great cape about his shoulders and pocketing his lightsaber along with its fellows – then a small cough, then more silence. He could feel himself being scrutinised as he sensed Grievous cross the room; given a carpet, he was able to move surprisingly quietly for his size.
“I see it was pointless to seal you in your room. Is it a common affliction of the Jedi to break into others' sleeping quarters?”
Without moving, or even opening his eyes, Obi-Wan retorted, “What can I say, General? I just couldn't keep away.”
When Grievous responded with a small harsh chuckle, Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile a little himself. Giving up all pretence of meditation he dropped his hands into his lap and met Grievous' eye.
“How are you feeling today?” Obi-Wan asked with genuine interest.
“Considering you have been in my head for most of the night, perhaps you should tell me.”
Obi-Wan managed not to roll his eyes at the evasive answer.
“There are things I must attend to,” said Grievous, moving toward the large console array, “but they will not keep me long. Dress and get ready, I am eager to continue with our training.”
At Grievous' words Obi-Wan gave a start, yanking the blanket, which had slid down his shoulders, back up and around his chest. With flaming cheeks, he clutched the blanket tightly in one hand, took up the stick that somebody (Ay-Four-Dee, he assumed) had placed beside him during the night, and hobbled as quickly as his ankle would allow past Grievous towards his room.
Grievous watched all this with no small amount of amusement. His eyes followed Kenobi's progress all the way across the room and, as the door started to shut behind him, Grievous was sure to give a chortle loud enough to carry to the Jedi's ears. What a peculiar spectacle: the great warrior Jedi Master General Obi-Wan Kenobi ashamed to be caught in only his underthings and a blanket. And what a curious shade of pink his face had turned – why, even his ears had reddened. It was so at odds with everything else he had ever known about Kenobi that he realised he had enjoyed it immensely. He made a mental note to make sure it happened again, and often. Perhaps a Jedi companion would prove entertaining after all.
Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Obi-Wan scowled over his shoulder as the door clicked shut, thankfully cutting off the sounds of Grievous' mirth at his predicament.
“Bastard,” he muttered under his breath.
Woken by Grievous' distress, he had thought of nothing save reaching his charge as quickly as possible, and then he had been concerned with watching over him through the rest of the night. Thoughtful actions, which he was quickly coming to regret.
He set about his morning routine as best he could in a considerably grumpy mood. He could still feel Grievous' amusement from the next room and had a horrible sense of foreboding that Grievous would wring out Obi-Wan's discomfort for as long as he could.
Jedi were taught modesty from such a young age it often became a part of their very identity. No-one, not even Anakin, had seen Obi-Wan in anything less than his undertunic and trousers since the day when he and his crèche-mates shared quarters. Of course, not all Jedi were as fastidious as Obi-Wan himself, but he had always taken his monastic vows of modesty and celibacy extremely seriously; just as seriously as he took every other oath or vow he'd sworn. Some of his fellow Jedi treated certain rules more as guidelines. He had sparred against many of his brother knights who were more comfortable battling without even an undervest covering their chests, but it always made Obi-Wan feel a little awkward. Then, of course, there were species such as the Twi'leks and Togrutas, who often favoured garments more reminiscent of the fashions of their home worlds. Each to his or her own, but to Obi-Wan, rules were set down for a reason and that was good enough reason to follow them.
However hot or uncomfortable he might be, from tonight onwards he would be sleeping in his vest. Just in case.
He put off returning to Grievous' room for as long as he could, but he knew Grievous was likely to become more insufferable the longer he waited so, steeling himself, he tapped the entry panel and stepped back into Grievous' chamber. Pleased to discover the room was empty, he settled himself back on the sofa, placing a piece of fruit and cup of water he'd brought for later on the table before him.
Obi-Wan could feel Grievous' presence even through the door of Ay-Four-Dee's room, but as he didn't sense anything wrong he decided he probably wasn't needed. He passed the time watching several large cargo vessels boarding a giant cruiser stationed close by. The last had just disappeared from sight when Grievous strode into the room.
Obi-Wan readied himself for what was likely to be the first of many uncomfortable remarks. Sadly, he wasn't disappointed.
“Ah, General Kenobi...”
Obi-Wan would swear there was almost a damn twinkle of amusement in Grievous' eyes.
“... So good of you to rejoin me. And in more appropriate attire too, I see. Before, I could almost have forgotten that you are a Jedi Knight.”
How was it that someone without a mouth was capable of smirking? thought Obi-Wan; no doubt he was reddening around the ears again. Pretending Grievous hadn't spoken, he said coolly, “I know it wasn't the most peaceful night's sleep, but I hope you are feeling somewhat rested. What I plan to work on today is a fairly advanced technique taught to younglings who have trouble separating and leaving their emotions behind. It often takes some time to become proficient.”
As he spoke, Grievous – who had given a small snort when his jibe hadn't got the reaction he had hoped for – took up his place across from him as he had done the day before. Obi-Wan continued, “Of course, with you, we don't want to block your emotions, but we do still want control over them so they can't overwhelm as they have been. It should certainly give you back more control.” He knew this would appeal to Grievous, at least. What he said was true enough, though he hadn't mentioned the method wasn't commonly used at the Jedi Temple except in the case of older younglings who had trouble letting go of their feelings. Obi-Wan hadn't personally studied it himself but he was confident in his ability to teach Grievous.
As he went on he couldn't help but notice how comfortably he slipped back into the role of mentor and teacher. It was like when Anakin had first become his Padawan: explaining everything to one who hadn't been brought up in the Temple but needed a good understanding of how and why Jedi did some of the things they did.
“One of the main reasons for a Jedi to meditate is when he becomes too emotional and/or has confused feelings. We focus on that emotion or feeling and examine every part of it; only then are we able to let it go.”
At these words Grievous scoffed loudly.
Obi-Wan raised a questioning eyebrow. “Yes?”
“All this indoctrination in your young. What is it you are all so afraid of?”
Obi-Wan frowned at the choice of wording. “All Jedi have been raised and taught the same way for thousands of years and in all that time no more than twenty Jedi have abandoned the order. Emotions, feelings and attachments are dangerous – they can lead to fear, to anger, to hate. All temptations to the path of the Dark Side.”
“So to feel is evil? To have a family means you will be tempted by evil?”
“Not necessarily, but for a Jedi? For someone with so much power, why would we take the risk?”
“You all deprive families of their children. You take away any choice that child could have. No families, no friends. Nothing. Just in case?”
“You have a way of making it sound much more simple than it is.”
“Simple or not, it is still ridiculous. To be raised, without parents, to never truly care about another person your entire life...” Grievous seemed quite disgusted by the prospect but here he trailed off.
Obi-Wan didn't want to have this fight now. For one thing, it seemed futile to try and make Grievous understand something he was so obstinate about and, more importantly, because – and this was almost ironic – the conversation was again making a tempest of Grievous' feelings. What should have just been a minor annoyance was instead a tornado of anger, with no speck of the amusement that had been so prominent only moments earlier. The Jedi could also sense waves of sadness welling up.
To his credit Grievous did seem to be aware that he was losing control. He'd shut his eyes and was taking deep breaths that could be heard rasping in and out through his ventilator in a rather forced way. Without thinking, Obi-Wan sent a stream of reassurance to Grievous through their link that he'd made sure to keep open since the night's episode. He could feel the calming effect it had on Grievous almost straight away.
He allowed another minute to crawl by until he said, “Shall we begin?”
Grievous met his eyes, determination shining through them as he gave Obi-Wan the smallest of nods.
“Alright.” Obi-Wan kept his voice a little lower than usual, he wanted to remain a source of reassurance and ensure he did nothing to pique the other man's temper again. “Before we start, it's important you know I'll be there with you. I'll be able to see what you see and, of course, I'll know what you're feeling; this way, should anything upset you, I'll be able to help you to make sure you aren't over-whelmed. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
For some time after that they worked on special breathing techniques to reduce the heart rate and help enter the meditative state required.
Here, they hit their first snag after only a few minutes. Obi-Wan, who was quite innocently settled in position with his eyes closed and talking Grievous through the breathing methods as he practised them himself, said, quite without thinking, “... and it is far more effective to inhale through the nose rather than the mou–” He trailed off awkwardly, inwardly cringing as he cracked open one eye to peek at the smooth faceplate opposite him.
Predictably, Grievous had been giving Obi-Wan one of his hardest stares. “Would you find this easier if I had Doctor fit me with the correct features?”
Obi-Wan understood that it wasn't really a question and accepted it for the reprimand it was. And so, consequently, they spent some time discussing the nature of Grievous' artificial breathing apparatus. Although the damage to his lungs (caused not by, as Grievous had believed until two days ago, his ship's explosion, but by the Force Lightning Dooku had used on him when he had been pulled from the sea) was severe, they were still capable of functioning on their own, although the ventilator did most of their work for them which ensured Grievous could not overtax them. It also aided his superior stamina: when in battle and exerting himself the ventilator took over for him completely, so it took many times longer for Grievous to become short of breath than a normal person. Plus, it also meant that in a non-oxygen atmosphere he was able to comfortably breathe for extended periods of time with no ill effects. He wheezed occasionally if overexcited, and the damage done to the lung tissue caused his coughing. Together they worked until they found a way for Grievous to slow his oxygen intake and give himself control over his ventilator if he so chose, something he had never needed to attempt before. Each small part of himself he was able to gain more control over was a victory to Grievous, and Obi-Wan could sense the pride without trying.
That bump in the path successfully navigated they continued, Obi-Wan swearing to do his best to remember that his unlikely student had singularly unique needs.
Grievous mastered the breathing routine quickly and soon achieved the almost trance-like state that made this form of mind training easiest.
“We are going to begin as we have before: put yourself back in your special place, sitting as you are now,” Obi-Wan said as he slipped deeper into Grievous' mind. “When you are ready, open your eyes there.”
When Grievous finally did open his eyes he was back in the clearing and sitting opposite him was Kenobi. He narrowed his eyes. “How is it you are here?”
Obi-Wan opened his eyes too and took a long slow look at his surroundings. “I have formed a link between us, or between our minds, at least. As I said, anything you see, I see.”
Grievous wasn't entirely sure how he felt about Kenobi's presence here. This place had long been special to him and, although its existence was not one of the things wiped from his mind, many of the reasons he had such an attachment to this place had been. Already he had learned that many of the things he was beginning to remember were linked to particular emotions, and that was not something he felt he was ready to discuss with the Jedi – if indeed he ever would be. He was already weakened enough. Not physically perhaps, but ever since Kenobi and his data-chip had arrived on his ship, mentally he wasn't as strong.
Perhaps sensing Grievous' reservations regarding his presence, Obi-Wan offered, “It's very beautiful. Is this Kalee?”
Beautiful. Yes, it was beautiful, truly beautiful. At least, it had been; he'd no idea if the clearing even existed any more. But he did know he did not wish to discuss it with Kenobi.
“It is,” Grievous responded shortly, answering both of the Jedi's questions but continuing before he could pursue another line of questioning. “What are we doing now we are here?”
“We are going to organise your thoughts; sort of file them, really. Your memories and your emotions too. Anything that you need to gain control over quickly,” Obi-Wan explained. “I need you to close your eyes again.” He paused, waiting for Grievous to obey, then continued. “We need to add something: a place to put away the thoughts we want to block or, in your case, the things we want to hide for the time being. You'll know they're there, but you will be distanced and safe from them. Emotionally they won't be able to hurt you. Do you understand?”
Not entirely sure he did, Grievous replied, “Perhaps, but where exactly am I suppose to hide them?”
“That's entirely for you to decide. Something you can open and shut. Picture it clearly and put it in here, anywhere you want. Then you can open your eyes again.”
Grievous thought for a while, decided, then carefully pictured exactly where he'd put it. “Done,” he declared, satisfaction self-evident in his tone.
Obi-Wan opened his own eyes, sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
There in front of him, exactly halfway between himself and Grievous, stood a large dark wooden door.
“Very clever,” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath. Rolling his eyes, he got to his feet and walked around the door, sitting in front of it beside Grievous, who was looking rather pleased with himself.
“Suitable enough?”
“Quite,” replied Obi-Wan shortly, though he supposed he should be grateful that Grievous was feeling comfortable enough to taunt him in such an innocent, even teasing, way. “A very apt choice, though a bag, a box or even a window would have worked just as well.”
“What is next?”
“At the moment you are safe, partly because of where you are – here in this forest, I mean, not your physical body on board your ship – but also because I am blocking those memories and thoughts that threaten to flood you. Were I to stop that you would instead find yourself on the other side of that door.”
“I assume you do not mean where you were previously sitting?”
“Correct... And I'm sure the placement of this door was quite accidental?”
Snort.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes again Obi-Wan went on with his lesson. “Had you opened that door while I was still sitting there, you would not have seen me but whatever is currently most prevalent in your mind. As I said before, without my current assistance you would technically be in there with whatever feelings or memories you are experiencing right now. To put it simply, I am keeping that door closed for you. You need to learn how to find the door and close it yourself.”
“Which will bring me here, back to this clearing?” Grievous didn't sound completely convinced.
“Exactly.” Obi-Wan was relieved that Grievous seemed to understand the principal behind the theory. “This isn't something you will need to use forever. I know you are unhappy about being locked up but your mind is going to take weeks, maybe even months, to adjust and heal completely. When it does, your mind will work perfectly normally and you will have no need to lock your feelings away – at least, not if you don't want to. Until then, this will make it appear as though nothing untoward is going on; outwardly, anyway. To begin with it will be difficult. Finding the door can take time and certainly won't be easy. With practise though, as soon as a stray emotion, and in your case memory, assails you, you'll find yourself shutting the door before you've even had time to process being in trouble. It will shut away those feelings, but it will give you the opportunity to come back and examine them at a more convenient time.”
Grievous listened carefully to the Jedi's words. He was offering him a shortcut. If he was able to master this he could return to his duties sooner, avoid arousing suspicion, and begin to plan his revenge upon Dooku. He couldn't deny he was impatient on that score – just the thought of the Sith apprentice was enough to invoke his rage. Apparently he needed no enhancements where the old Serennian was now concerned.
No sooner had he thought this than he felt that strangely soothing calmness through his link to Kenobi, and he settled again. He could admit it only to himself but he knew that, without the link to Kenobi, he wouldn't be able to keep control anywhere near as well as he was currently. He felt it keenly every time the link faltered or was broken: it was a strain to concentrate on anything, a headache would come on immediately and it took all of his energy to not be overwhelmed by the memories that flooded him out of 0nowhere. With the link he could still feel everything but it was as though he was numb to it, detached and looking down upon the memories, however painful they were, from a great distance. The link was definitely preferable to no link, but at the same time there was no way he wanted to be stuck for weeks or months with Kenobi's company, no matter how helpful he was being.
But he still had his reservations about this technique. He had many memories that he had no desire for Kenobi to witness. It was bad enough that so much of his past had been laid bare to the Jedi but there was far more the Jedi was ignorant of, and that was how Grievous wanted him to remain. This door, however, would allow Kenobi to see everything.
Obi-Wan had no trouble deciphering Grievous' misgiving throughout the long silence that followed his last words. Within the Jedi order, between Master and Padawan – and even between fully-fledged Jedi Knights – secrets simply didn't exist. If a Master kept something from their Padawan it was because there was a good reason, and a good Padawan would accept that without question. Between trained Knights secrets were pointless, as they were often surrounded by peers who were able to sense and even read thoughts and feelings. And apart from that, Jedi simply didn't have anything to hide from one another. They all, for the most part, lived good, honourable, and modest lives.
And so, for the second time that morning, Obi-Wan was forced to remember that Grievous was unlike any other pupil he had ever taught. It was perfectly natural that Grievous had things he would much rather remained hidden.
“Grievous,” Obi-Wan turned to looked at the figure seated beside him. Grievous studiously ignored this. “I'm not here to judge you. Anything that happens stays between us alone.” To emphasise his words Obi-Wan sent another wave of reassurance.
Grievous turned to meet Kenobi's eyes, and gave him a searching look. He would never and could never trust a Jedi, but over and over Kenobi kept proving he was no ordinary Jedi.
“There are things,” Grievous began with a touch of hesitancy, “that I have no wish to share. Things that are nobody's business but my own.”
“That is understandable, and I have no wish to pry. It may not be as effective, but we can practise with memories, environments that you are happier for me to see. We can focus hard on what you want to be behind that door when you open it. Then, when you have the hang of it, you can try alone. I will stay back in your room and only come in if there is trouble. How does that sound?”
“That may be acceptable, Jedi.”
Obi-Wan noticed that, once again, his title had lost its bite, and he looked away so Grievous wouldn't catch his lips twitching upwards.