There are few stories that are told among the Jedi Order long enough to become myth. Legend. It takes importance to stand the test of time that way. A lesson has to be learned.
Anakin and Circe's story is told for generations long after they are go...
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It is weeks before Circe is able to even pick up a lightsaber again.
Anakin hardly leaves her side while she recovers, and while he eats, sleeps, and fawns over her, his mind twists in fear and rage.
The other Jedi in the temple stay away from her room all together. The darkness within Anakin seeps through the floor and walls into an uncomfortable fog that keeps everyone but Circe's doctors away.
The Council grows restless. They all visit her at some point, asking about the bodiless voice, about Phaedris, and the ringing that lead her to him. The bite their lectures back, about her foolishness in not contacting them first before chasing a Sith.
The first person to ask her how she's truly feeling is Obi-Wan, nearly a week after she and Anakin have returned to the Temple.
She doesn't hold it against the others. To be in the Jedi Council is to be preoccupied with everything all at once. To have so many problems to focus on that you forget to see what's right in front of you.
Perhaps that's why this story ends the way it does.
"Circe," Obi-Wan says one morning, coming into her room with a tray of fresh fruits and soft spice pudding.
She sits up, the pain in her bones having dulled into a soft throb. "Master Obi-Wan, good morning."
He places the tray on the table beside her and motions at Anakin who is resting against her bed, fast asleep.
"Not yet morning for some of us, apparently."
She gives him an affectionate look, her face soft as wax. "He's been awake for so long. He won't even leave to go sleep in his own bed."
"He's worried for you. I am as well. The poison in your body is persistent and strong. One drop more and the damage would have been permanent." Obi-Wan says.
She looks away.
The dosage was no accident. Phaedris would never have killed either of them. She doesn't know how she knows it, but she's certain, and she's sure that somewhere out there he's suffering for it.
"Circe, Anakin's emotions are growing increasingly dark as the days go on. While you heal, he falls deeper into his own confusion and anxiety."
She turns back to him. "As you said, he's worried. He's... he's got it in his head that—"
"That this was his fault."
She nods.
Obi-Wan thinks of Anakin's dream. Of the terror that must be gripping him now that she really has been hurt.
"You know what I'm going to say."
"Don't bother," She answers. "I don't want to hear you turn Anakin's pain into a weapon to use against him, Master."
