When Dr Olman finally left
the room, closing the door with just a little more force than was
necessary, Qar sat down heavily on her chair.
Her hands were shaking and she felt exhausted after the onslaught of
Anakin’s mind on her own.
The painkiller had taken the edge off her headache and that had to be
enough for now.
“Gods, what a day,” she said just to break the
silence.
The Senator was still standing next to Anakin’s head. He was
frowning down at his friend probably more shaken by the events he had
just witnessed than he let on.
Qar wondered what his intentions were in all of this and realised that
she had never before questioned his motives. The Senator was
Anakin’s friend and so far she had assumed that all Palpatine
wanted was to make sure his friend was going to be alright. But he had
been angry with Anakin, an uncontrolled emotion that Anakin had picked
up and she - somehow - had picked up from Anakin.
Anakin was sleeping now, a deep, peaceful, drug-induced sleep. It had
been dangerous to give him that strong a narcotic but she had felt as
if her head was about to burst. He had to be stopped and quickly, too.
Qar felt there was a certain irony in this. She had known there would
be difficulties handling a patient with Anakin’s powers but
she had expected it would be somebody else’s head that
exploded not her own.
Perhaps she should corner that idiot jedi doctor and force him to tell
her how to deal with people like Anakin when they were not in control
of their facilities. They had to have some experience with this kind of
problem.
Senator Palpatine took a step away from the bed, folded his arms across
the chest and looked at her.
“Is this the way he’s going to be?” he
wanted to know, his voice bitter.
Qar looked back at the Senator, for a moment uncertain whether she
understood what he meant. He had been here before, he knew what had
happened to Anakin.
“What do you mean?” she asked, though she wanted to
ask ‘What did you expect?’
Palpatine’s mouth turned into a thin, harsh line.
“Is he going to be like that?” he asked again.
“Incoherent, not in control of his mind, crippled, bed-bound
and helpless, incontinent no doubt and crying like a baby.”
Qar stared at the Senator and thought that if he wasn’t on
the other side of Anakin’s bed she would hit him. Anger
welled up in her too strong to suppress, and anger was nothing that she
needed in this room. She rose from her chair and with a hand shaking
not from Anakin’s assault but with repressed fury pointed at
the door.
“Out,” she ordered. How dare he say this to
Anakin’s face, even if he was under heavy sedation? How dare
Palpatine even think this and pollute the air with his emotions?
The Senator looked at her, surprise written on his face.
“Out of this room. Now.” she told him.
Palpatine did not move. He was not used to being ordered around.
He had to leave this room when he broadcast contempt and
disappointment, Anakin no doubt picked up, if only on a subconscious
level.
Qar walked around the hospital bed, grabbed Palpatine’s arm
and pulled him toward the door. “Out.” she
repeated, as she opened the door and pushed him out.
“But…?” Palpatine started, cut short
when she closed the door in his face.
What in the twenty hells did he want?
She turned back to look at Anakin, making sure he had not stirred in
his sleep, and promised him fiercely and with all the energy she could
put in it that he was going to be alright. Whatever his so-called
friends said or thought, she was going to make sure he was going to be
fine.
What in the twenty hells did the Senator expect Anakin would be like?
Palpatine had been happy about Anakin’s recovery, and now he
was disappointed because his friend wasn’t really at his
best? What an idiot.
Qar forced herself to turn away from Anakin and leave the room. Anakin
did not need anybody’s bad feelings around him, whether they
were the Senators or her own.
And Anakin needed Palpatine. He needed a friend now, and somebody who
had enough influence to conjure up that artificial liver, and who was
willing to use this influence.
Palpatine was standing just outside Anakin’s room, obviously
too surprised by his sudden removal to have decided what to do next.
“We need to talk,” Qar told him.
Anger rose up in Qar again, just looking at Palpatine’s
perplexed face. He obviously had no idea what he had done. Now she
could use her anger to give him a piece of her mind, advice he might
not like but would probably heed anyway - she hoped.
She grabbed Palpatine’s sleeve and dragged him to the
ward’s bathroom, and after checking it was empty pulled him
in behind her. She slammed the door close and swirled around to face
the confused Senator.
“What did you think you were doing in there?” she
asked.
“What I was doing?” Palpatine stared at her in
surprise.
Qar took a step closer to him and pushed him hard. Fortunately, she
thought, he was not much taller than she was and too confused to react.
Palpatine stumbled a step backward, bumping against the wall of the
narrow bathroom.
“What you were doing, yes,” Qar repeated and
stepped closer again. “You are his friend, Mr Senator, you of
all people should know that you cannot let your feelings get the better
of you. He knows, gods be damned. He can feel what
you feel - and I really should not have to tell you!”
Palpatine drew his head back, as far away from her as he could.
“But I…”
“You,” Qar said and grabbed Palpatine’s
shoulders. She wanted to smack his head against the tiled wall but he
would not tolerate such behaviour, somehow she knew how far she could
push him, if she wanted him to listen. “What the fuck did you
expect?” she wanted to know. “That Anakin would be
out of bed and doing sit ups?”
“No,” Palpatine protested.
“So what was this about then?” Qar asked,
“your litany of complaints. So he was crying, but have you
even the slightest comprehension of what he’s going through,
he? Have you any idea in how much pain he is every single second
he’s not under sedation? He knows what has happened, he
remembers the crash, and he knows that his wife is gone for good and
even if you don’t like her, he loves her and it’s
tearing his heart out that she is gone. He was crying, so what? Can you
not imagine what it is like for him, not able to move at all? Not
knowing how bad his situation is or whether this is going to be
permanent? He is in pain and helpless, yes, but he’s going to
get better. And I cannot have you in there oozing your negative
emotions when he cannot keep them out. It’s bad enough I have
to deal with all the nurses and doctors who cannot keep a lid on their
emotions but I cannot and will not stand to have you do the
same.”
She stopped, and looked up into his odd yellow eyes. He was listening.
Qar let go of Palpatine’s shoulders and took a step back.
“He is crippled, yes,” she continued, “as
you have known full well from the moment I first talked to you, he is
incoherent because of all the medication he needs at the moment,
he’s obviously not in control of his powers right now but I
am sure it will get better when we can lessen the dosage of the
sedatives. – And he is not incontinent.”
Palpatine had the decency to look contrite. He rubbed the back of his
head and straightened his suit.
“Senator Palpatine,” Qar went on, “Anakin
needs you now. He badly needs a friend to be there for him, to help him
get through this. Somebody he knows and can trust without hesitation.
He knows you - he doesn’t know me.” She had to
smile at that, recalling Anakin’s wild dig through her
memories, like a burglar going through somebody’s closet.
“He may now know more odd details about my past than he does
about yours, but he doesn’t know me as a person.
I’m not his friend, I’m his doctor, and he needs a
friend.” She stared at Palpatine, for a moment wondering
whether she should really deliver Anakin and herself completely into
his care. But who was she kidding, she realised, she depended on the
Senator and so did Anakin. “And I need you to tell Professor
Cagliari to let me do this my way and in my time. If you want to have
Anakin well again - and I cannot promise how well that is going to be -
you have to help me.”
The Senator looked at her for a long while, then he nodded.
“Ok,” he said simply.
“Thanks.” Qar breathed a sigh of relief and sat
down on the edge of the bathtub, her energy had drained out of her
along with her anger. The headache was back with a vengeance.
“So,” Palpatine pushed himself away from the wall
and folded his arms again. “how can I help you? Apart from
leaning on Cagliari to give you free reign, and that artificial liver,
and that I am only to think happy thoughts around Anakin, is there
anything else I can do?”
“Yes,” Qar nodded. “I need somebody who
has experience with people with these jedi powers who are not in
control anymore. Hell, Anakin isn’t the first to burst a
couple of windows or something, I’m sure.”
“A jedi doctor, you mean?” Palpatine asked,
sounding disgusted.
“For now, yes,” she answered.
“They are going to tell you that only they can treat a person
of Anakin’s abilities,” the Senator told her.
“They like to keep the secrets of their trade to
themselves.”
“Well,” Qar told him, “I don’t
care what they like or not. They are going to tell us.”
Palpatine raised his eyebrows, a quizzical look on his face.
“What do you intend to do?” he wanted to know,
“Torture them?”
“If necessary,” Qar replied, “for now I
am going to scare the living daylights out of them.”
And she was sure she knew just the person who would be easy pickings.
“Sounds great,” Palpatine said, with a grin,
“can I watch?”
“You’re essential to my plan.” Qar
considered getting up from her perch but what did the bathroom have a
bell for after all? She turned around and pushed the button.
“It would be very useful if I could get ahold of some studies
of jedi in unconscious or semi-conscious states,” she told
Palpatine. “I am not keen on having Anakin invade my brain
like that again. It’s bloody annoying.”
The door opened and nurse Fuessli entered and stopped short, when she
saw the Senator and Qar.
“Nurse,” Qar said before Fuessli could complain
about her misuse of the bell, “I need you to fetch Dr
Saint-Martin for me right away. I don’t care whether
he’s on duty, off duty, in bed or going out. He has a beeper,
so get him. As fast as possible.” Fuessli nodded and was
about to turn away when Qar added, “And could you please tell
Dr Olman to meet us in the office when Saint-Martin arrives?
Thanks.”
Fuessli nodded again and left, closing the door carefully behind her.
The tale of the strange doctor holding a meeting with the senator in a
bathroom would probably make its way round with the speed of light.
“Saint-Martin?” Palpatine asked.
“Isn’t he the one…?”
“Yes, he is,” Qar confirmed. “And I think
he’s going to be scared witless when he’s summoned
here. And when he sees you, he’ll probably shit himself. The
jedi are not beyond reproach any longer and he knows it. - And if
Saint-Martin doesn’t want to talk, we tie him up and put him
in a chair next to Anakin’s bed and tell him that Anakin is
going to ransack his mind next time he comes round.”
“And Dr Olman is going to play along?” Palpatine
wanted to know.
“Oh, yes,” Qar replied, perhaps a little more
confident than she felt, “he likes me. And he can’t
stand those poncy jedi bastards.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Palpatine grinned at
her. “May I?” he asked then, pointing at the
bathtub. When Qar nodded, he sat down next to her. “So, let
me recapitulate, Dr Saint-Martin we need because he’s a jedi
and you think he’s easily scared, right?”
“And he’s here,” Qar explained.
“After our last encounter you ran a check and at least we did
not find any other doctor here who was a trained jedi.”
“Dr Olman?” Palpatine wanted to know.
“He’s a specialist in narcotics and sedatives,
knows a lot more than me. He can tell us if Saint-Martin is talking
bull-shit or not.”
For a while they sat in silence next to each other.
Qar rubbed her forehead in a vague attempt to ease her headache a
little, but this was something only a decent painkiller could do.
“How’s the head?” Palpatine asked.
“Alright,” Qar replied. “Nothing a couple
of painkillers or a half-bottle of kahy can’t cure.”
Palpatine laughed, but turning serious again, he queried,
“so, all the stuff you know about Anakin, what you said
earlier, you know all that from when he just hopped into your
mind?”
“What do you mean?” Qar wanted to know.
“I mean, things like that he knows what happened or that he
misses his wife,” the senator explained. “I mean I
thought he’d be angry with that bitch.”
Qar held up a hand. “You can call her that here, but if you
do that in Anakin’s room, I’ll have to kick you
out, understood?”
Palpatine nodded. “So?” he asked, reminding her of
the question she hadn’t answered.
“Well, a lot of that was indeed from just now. But
he’s been broadcasting his emotions quite strongly before as
well. I guess he cannot stop that either. So when you got angry, Anakin
picked it up at once and I picked it up from him.”
Palpatine turned half around to look at her.
“That’s interesting,” he said,
“because I didn’t feel a thing. So, if
he’s broadcasting why do you pick it up and I
don’t?”
Qar shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m not a
jedi.”
“Neither am I,” Palpatine admitted. “But
it is odd, isn’t it?” He sat silent for a long
moment. “I guess we should get ourselves to the office, to
provide you with some painkillers, and be there when this jedi doctor
shows up. Perhaps I have time to talk to Patty or at least make a note
about what we need to do. Perhaps Patty has news on the liver, that
would be good.” Palpatine stood up and turned to face Qar
again. “I’ll promise I will do my utmost not to
think negative things or insult his wife when I am in
Anakin’s room.” He paused again, and a frown
appeared on his face. “What do you mean, he’s not
incontinent?”
“Why do you think he should be?” Qar asked in
return.
“Well,” Palpatine said, “he’s
not in control of his - his organs.” He waved at his own
stomach.
“No, he isn’t,” Qar consented,
“but neither his stomach nor his kidneys are working. He gets
fed through his infusions and he’s on dialyses.
He’s not producing any waste so there’s no need for
him to shit or piss.”
“Oh,” Palpatine made, and grimaced. “You
are rather crude on occasion.”
“Hell, Senator,” Qar replied,
“I’m a doctor. And I am not into constructing
sentences like ‘bring forth feces’ or something
like that. I’m not afraid call things by their
names.”
“I see,” Palpatine said. For a moment he looked at
her, then down his own body and back at Qar. “If I remember
correctly, you said once that all his organs are pretty badly damaged,
right?”
“Except his spleen,” Qar replied. She had a pretty
good idea where this was leading up to, but she’d not spare
the Senator. She just thought of it as a small revenge for being such
an asshole earlier. “And one can happily life without a
spleen, as Saint Martin pointed out to me on a memorable
occasion.”
“Ah,” Palpatine sighed. He bit his lip and Qar
thought it was almost comical to see him torn between the urge to know
and the embarrassment of having to ask.
“And?” Qar prodded.
“Well,” the Senator said, “does that mean
his …,” he waved vaguely in the direction of his
lower stomach. “I mean, is his - are his - ah, private parts
badly damaged as well?”
Qar knew she was grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the baby and
she knew it was not nice, but she just couldn’t help it.
Men, she thought. The only thing they ever
think about is sex. Though, she realised, if a friend of hers
- male or female - were as badly injured as Anakin was, she would want
to know whether they still could have children.
“Senator Palpatine,” she replied, trying to
straighten her face, “I cannot say that Anakin’s
reproductive organs have come through the accident completely
unscathed, but they are not permanently damaged. If he wants to he can
still father many children -” She realised that she had no
idea whether Anakin had any children, and added, “or many
more children. Does he have children?”
Palpatine shook his head. “No.” He stared at the
ceiling for a moment, then he went on, “Unless, of course,
he’s been having affairs all over the galaxy and left behind
a couple of dozen little bastards on different worlds. - Though I guess
at least one of their respective theoretical mothers would have gone
public by now. And his wife would have ripped his head off if she found
out.” A lop-sided grin appeared on his face.
“Knowing Admiral Talassa, she’d probably cut his
balls off.”
“At least that’s one trauma, Anakin does not have
to go through right now,” Qar said. “I
don’t mean his wife maiming him, but the trauma of not being
fully functional any longer.”
“Yes,” Palpatine stated. He held out his hand and
helped her to her feet. “So, let’s go and see what
Dr Saint-Martin has to say for himself. And I promise I’ll
only be thinking happy thoughts at Anakin.”
Qar grinned. “If you have difficulties finding something
positive to think about you can always think about Anakin siring many
little children.”
Palpatine stared at her open-mouthed for a moment. Then he grinned as
well. “With all due respect, Dr Hadasht, I think that me
thinking about my friend Anakin having sex is a thought more disturbing
than he should be confronted with at the moment.”
“I guess you’re right there,” Qar said.
Palpatine gave her an odd look, as if he wanted to continue with the
banter but then thought the better of it.
The Senator was alright after all, Qar thought.
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