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Jemmiah

Sleepless In Coruscant

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Jemmiah

TITLE: Sleepless in Coruscant

By Jemmiah

Care of www.hellschancecantina.com

**********

"I can't sleep!"

Dimallie watched the miserable patient before her as he tried his best to toss and turn (in as much as he could with his leg hanging up in a suspended sling) so that he might make himself more comfortable. She'd had the report earlier that day from Bant, which had confirmed one thing she'd already known deep in her heart:

Obi-Wan Kenobi was NOT a good patient.

"Your mind is too lively." Dimallie smiled sympathetically. "Perhaps if you were to meditate on higher things…"

"The only thing that is higher than my head is my leg." Obi-Wan scowled, nodding ungratefully at his hoisted limb. "Can't you lower it a little?"

"Well, I'm not supposed to." Dimallie answered apologetically. "You see, it's like that to stop your leg from swelling and we wouldn't want that to happen, would we?"

"No." Obi-Wan agreed stiffly. "We wouldn't. But what about my lack of sleep? I've been stuck like this for a whole day!"

Dimallie regarded the morose padawan for a moment, at a loss for what to say.

"All I can do is ask An-Paj about giving you more pain meds." She shrugged ineffectively. "But I can give you another blanket."

"Di, I don't need another blanket. I need sleep!" Obi-Wan tried to get through to the apprentice healer.

"Maybe you're cold…"

"I think I'm the best judge of that…and yes, I am cold. But that has nothing to do with it!" Obi-Wan declared. "All that's wrong with me other than the broken leg is the lack of sleep…"

But Dimallie had already gone on her quest to locate another blanket for Obi-Wan.

*******

And so it continued for the following twelve hours. Obi-Wan sat and complained about the fact that he couldn't sleep almost every time Dimallie or Bant or Simeon were in earshot in the hope that somehow there would be someone who could do something about it. The healers were going out of their way to be accommodating but they weren't able to help him! Every time he used the words 'sleep' and 'I can't' in the same sentence, all he got was another blanket thrown onto his bed! Soon Obi-Wan was being treated to a brand new phenomenon in the temple infirmary: actually feeling warm!

Or perhaps Dimallie was hoping that it was a case of out of sight, out of mind. One thing was for certain, if any more blankets were placed over him he wouldn't be able to see his leg any more.

He WAS a bad patient and he knew it. His mind WAS too lively. He had far too much in the way of restless energy at the best of times. Usually he could burn it off in the training rooms but for the moment he was stuck sweltering under a mountain of blankets, his mind refusing to be quiet.

He'd been unceremoniously dropped by Sheria, the young lady padawan he'd considered as a sort of platonic girlfriend - well, more of a study partner in truth - and that had done his ego no good at all. He'd been teased by Jemmiah, even though she'd made up for it by sneaking in some contraband chocolate which, alas, he'd forgotten about and had melted under his pillow. That was just a continuation of his Sithly luck in general and the ghastly infirmary in particular.

Worse still, Qui-Gon and Master Berlingside had gone on a mission and had left both himself and Kryztan behind. The man hadn't said what kind of assignment, but Obi-Wan got the impression it was probably a mission to see who could empty a cantina of all its alcohol quickest of all. Once a year without fail, Dex and Qui-Gon found themselves on one of these 'tasks' for the council, which was rendered all the more suspicious by the fact that invariably Master Windu always managed to disappear at exactly the same time.

Two years in a row could be coincidence. Six was not.

"I need a night-cap." Obi-Wan announced. "That would get me to sleep. After all, if it's good enough for my master then it's good enough for me. See if you can get Jemmy to arrange it, would you?"

Dimallie looked astonished then agreed that she would see what she could do to help. Obi-Wan felt his spirits pick right up, unable to believe that Dimallie would actually agree to it. His luck was in! After all, plenty of the masters had their own supplies of alcohol, and the council didn't frown upon drink provided you were over a certain age. At eighteen, Obi-Wan guessed he just about scraped into the 'old enough' category. Qui-Gon wasn't above taking the occasional tincture - as his 'mission' proved - so a drop of medicinal brandy would prove just what the healer ordered…

Three quarters of an hour later and Dimallie returned, throwing a little parcel down onto the bed beside him. Obi-Wan frowned at it.

"From Jemmiah." Dimallie explained.

Obi-Wan's fingers undid the parcel in a hurry, wondering if she'd perhaps put the alcohol inside a hip flask of some sort. Certainly the packaging seemed kind of inadequate and lightweight for a bottle…

He stared at the object that lay before him, with a flimsy note strapped to it written in a familiar Corellian scrawl:

Ben,

Here is your night-cap. Hope it keeps you warm.

Jemmy.

"This," Obi-Wan held up the item of headwear with the fluffy white pom-pom at the end, "is not exactly what I had in mind."

"I'm sure she's right." Dimallie took the garment from him and tried to place it on his head, ignoring his scowl. "It will keep you lovely and toasty!"

She caught the look in his eyes and decided to take an unscheduled trip to Quirida-Xac's room.

*******

"I'm quite sure that he won't take it if we offer it to him." Dimallie said plaintively to An-Paj. "You know what these things taste like. They are…rather unpleasant."

"Unpleasant?" An-Paj feigned hurt. "My medicine is never unpleasant!" he sniffed at the disgusting looking green sleeping draught in the mug and recoiled slightly. "Maybe it is slightly pungent, but it will do the job and that is the only thing that matters. I can't have him lying there complaining non-stop that he can't sleep. He's driving the other patients - not to mention the healers - up the wall! Now, see that he drinks it. That's an order, Dimallie!" An-Paj said in a serious voice.

"But…"

"Stand beside him whilst he drains every last drop. I don't want to find that he's been pouring his medicine away into the vase next to him like a certain Corellian female of our acquaintance."

"But An-Paj…"

"I mean it. He is going to take this. I want to see this glass empty within fifteen minutes." An-Paj smiled reassuringly at her. "I want to no excuses. No matter what you have to do, just do it. Even if you have to put him in an arm lock and pinch his nostrils until he opens his mouth."

Dimallie picked up the tray with the mug, sighed soulfully, and then trudged away. She thought An-Paj was joking about the arm lock but she wasn't exactly sure…

****

She regarded the figure once again as he lay before him, looking strangely innocent and boyish under his mountain of blankets, now more than ever. Something told her that he was not going to like this one little bit and she couldn't say she blamed him. The stuff was foul, despite An-Paj's best attempts to tell her otherwise, and Obi-Wan would no doubt find it so, too. Not to mention the fact that he wasn't exactly enamoured with the healers in the first place.

"Obi-Wan." Dimallie whispered as she sat down beside him. "Now, I need you to take this. I know you won't like it…but it's for your own good. And An-Paj said you have to!"

Obi-Wan said nothing.

Dimallie shook him by the arm, gently at first and then more violently.

"Obi-Wan!"

He continued to ignore her and Dimallie bent over and shouted directly into his ear.

"Obi-Wan!" she yelled. "Wake up!"

The padawan shot up in fright and sat bolt upright, panting in shock.

"W-w-what is it?" he gasped. "What's the matter?"

Dimallie held out the mug.

"Sorry about that." She said breezily. "I had to wake you up so you could take your sleeping draft."

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