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Maybe instead of imprisoning war criminals on Coruscant, we should just make them sit through these briefing meetings, Obi-Wan thought vaguely. But no, perhaps not. That might count as cruel and unusual punishment.
He hadn’t slept since they’d come out of combat, what, 36 hours ago? And not for lack of trying – sleep didn’t come easily these days. But as he listened to Captain Rex prattle on, his headache worsening by the minute, Obi-Wan found himself fighting to keep his eyes open. He surmised he’d found the cure for insomnia – listening to tactical reports seemed to do the trick.
“Um…General Kenobi, sir?”
Obi-Wan looked up in surprise. Everyone was staring at him. Why was everyone staring at him?
Cody’s eyebrows were raised in thinly-veiled surprise, Rex and Ahsoka looked a little concerned, and Anakin was obviously trying not to laugh. Obi-Wan felt his cheeks redden. Had he been zoning out? Goodness, he must’ve been. How embarrassing. Jedi Masters didn’t have the luxury of ‘zoning out.’
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Cody. Could you repeat that?”
The commander looked faintly amused. “Captain Rex informed us they’ve got Lok Durd in custody, sir. I said we’d transfer him to The Negotiator on your orders.”
Obi-Wan tried to shake himself back to the present. Right. They’d met up with Anakin’s starship in passing to complete a prisoner transfer. The 212th was heading back to the Core while the 501st continued onward, so Obi-Wan’s battalion would trade off their spare supplies in exchange for Durd, who they’d bring back to Coruscant for trial.
“Excellent, thank you, Commander. Captain,” Obi-Wan said, easing back into the façade of a general. “Begin the transfer. The 212th will send along our spare goods for your journey.”
As Cody and Rex saluted and left the briefing room, Obi-Wan deflated in his chair a little. Finally. Now he just had a report to write up, and then he could go back to his quarters and nap. He’d been trying to ignore how lousy he felt, but for a moment the pain in his head overwhelmed him. Blast. He didn’t have time for this. There was too much work to be done.
Amusement long since faded, Anakin watched Obi-Wan shut his eyes for a moment.
He couldn’t believe they’d caught him not paying attention. It would’ve been funny, if he wasn’t so concerned. Obi-Wan hadn’t been himself recently, and as Anakin watched him sigh and return to his work, he put his own report aside.
“Hey,” he said, nudging Obi-Wan’s datapad from across the table. “You okay?”
Obi-Wan nodded tersely. “Fine.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes trailed over to Ahsoka, who was watching the exchange with interest. Anakin inwardly groaned. Obi-Wan and his stupid pride – he wouldn’t admit anything with someone else in the room. He nudged Ahsoka through their Force bond, hoping she’d get the message. Thankfully, she nodded.
“As long as you don’t need me, Master, mind if I go help Rex?” Ahsoka said. “They’re taking inventory of the goods transfer.”
Anakin nodded absently. The moment she was out of sight, he whirled back around to face Obi-Wan.
“Seriously, you good?”
“I’m fine, Anakin.” Obi-Wan didn’t lift his eyes from the datapad. “Let’s just finish these reports and be done with it.”
“You’ve only been off medical leave for what…two weeks? I just want to make sure you’re – ”
“I don’t need a nursemaid, thank you.” Anakin fell silent at the coldness in his voice. “Now quiet. I can’t write when you’re blathering on and on.”
Anakin sank back in his chair, trying not to seethe. Obi-Wan could have a lightsaber sticking out of his chest and still say he was fine. As much as he loved to pretend everything was just peachy, the last couple months had been rough and they both knew it. First, he’d nearly died in a bombing on Coruscant. Then, some secret mission to a Sith planet called Zigoola had nearly killed him, which he was being annoying cryptic to Anakin about. All in all, Obi-Wan had spent more time in the Halls of Healing recently than out. So forgive me, Master, Anakin thought with an eye roll, for not believing that you’re actually fine.
He thought about pushing Obi-Wan a little more – maybe getting the man to actually take a break, for the love of the Force – when the whole ship erupted in emergency alarms.
RED ALERT. RED ALERT.
Anakin had his commlink open almost immediately. “Rex. What’s happening?”
“A prisoner escaped, sir,” came Rex’s muddled reply. “Not to worry – he’s unarmed.”
“Which prisoner?”
There was a brief pause before he answered. “Lok Durd, sir.”
Kriff. Of course. Just when we get that slimeball into custody…
Anakin bit back his frustration. “Do you need us to come take care of it?”
“No, sir. The boys and I have got it under control.”
Distant shouting could be heard through the commlink. It didn’t exactly sound under control. But this was Rex. While Anakin usually operated under the premise of, ‘if you want something done right, do it yourself,’ his Captain was the exception. He eased out a sigh.
“Comm me if there’s any trouble.”
The connection fizzled, and Anakin tried to bring his attention back to the tactical report. The alarm was still blaring – for kark’s sake, that was going to make it hard to focus.
But he stopped short when he saw Obi-Wan. – he’d abandoned his datapad, laying his head down on the table.
Anakin put down his own datapad, and Obi-Wan jumped up at the sound.
“You said you were fine.”
Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead and actually had the decency to look sheepish. “I just have…a bit of a headache. That’s all.”
“A headache, or a migraine?”
Obi-Wan’s grimace was enough of an answer.
“Okay. Do you have your meds?”
“Not with me.”
“Not with you?!”
He regretted raising his voice when Obi-Wan winced at the sound. Oops.
“They’re in my quarters. On The Negotiator. I was planning to go get them after I finished.” He nodded at the datapad before running a hand down his face.
Anakin huffed. He could send a trooper to get them while he looked after Obi-Wan. In the mean time, he needed to get him out of here – the red-alert alarm was blaring and lit up the whole room with pulsing flashes, and it was enough to give Anakin a headache. He couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Obi-Wan.
“Come on,” he said. “You can lay down in my room. It’ll be darker there, okay?”
He stood and offered Obi-Wan his hand, noting with worry that he accepted the help without protest. That can’t be good. Anakin kept an eye on him as they started toward the door.
But the door didn’t open.
“Kriff…Durd’s out,” Anakin said, the realization hitting him with crushing certainty. “We’re on lockdown.”
He knew Obi-Wan well enough to catch the flicker of desperation that crossed his face.
Trying to be calm enough for the both of them, Anakin begged his voice to sound nonchalant as he spoke into his commlink.
“Ahsoka. Any update on Durd?”
“Not in the past 30 seconds since you spoke to Rex, no.”
Distantly, he heard Rex chuckle.
“Well is there any chance you can unlock the door to the briefing room? We’re stuck.”
“It’s a lockdown, Master. That’s kind of the point.”
“I know, I know, just…fine.” Anakin could practically hear her smirking. “Could you at least kill the red alert? The alarm’s a little deafening.”
“It’s protocol, sir,” Rex chimed in, his voice sounding a little further away. “Unless you order me otherwise, then I suppose…”
“Master, is everything okay?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again before he could answer her. Obi-Wan rarely allowed anyone to know when he was under the weather, and despised being pitied. Telling Rex or Ahsoka what was going on would probably result in another insistent “I’m fine,” and a slap on the wrist.
But it’s either that, Anakin decided, or be stuck in the briefing room with an earsplitting alarm and no medication. So…
“It’s just…Obi-Wan’s not feeling well.”
Before the words even fully left his mouth, Obi-Wan smacked his arm.
“Don’t breach protocol, Anakin. I’m fine.”
There it is. Anakin fought the urge to smack him back. “Just hurry up and catch Durd, will you?”
“Copy that, General.”
The line fell silent.
Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, who stood beside him rubbing his eyes. Usually on Obi-Wan’s bad days, he did his best to cover his paperwork, keep the Council off his back, brew his favorite tea – anything he could. The pain medication helped, too, if he got it in his system early enough. But without it…
Anakin grimaced. Kriffing lockdown protocol.
Obi-Wan had started swaying where he stood, looking paler by the second. Anakin risked placing a hand on his arm to steady him.
“You wanna sit down?”
Obi-Wan nodded. Anakin was about to lead him back over to the briefing table when instead, Obi-Wan sat down right where he was. Leaning his back against the wall, he held his head in his hands.
Alright, that works, too. He crouched down beside him.
“They’ll catch him quick. I promise. Rex and Ahsoka will have us out of here soon.”
Obi-Wan said nothing. His breathing sounded a little uneven.
Feeling useless, Anakin scanned the room. There had to be something in here that could help. Maybe a first-aid kit with some ibuprofen? This was a warship, after all – certainly there’d be some sort of medical supplies. Anakin’s eyes stopped on the storage closet in the corner. He patted Obi-Wan lightly on the shoulder before standing to check it out.
But there was no first-aid kit. The closet was mostly empty, save for some cleaning supplies. A bucket and mop weren’t any help, nor were the spiderwebs that trickled down from the door frame. Anakin shut the closet, feeling just as helpless as before.
Even with his eyes closed, the flashing lights and blaring alarm rattled through Obi-Wan’s skull.
You’re fine, he repeated over and over to himself, trying to inhale deeply. You’re fine. Just hold it together until you can get your medication and take a good, long nap…
But “holding it together” probably wasn’t the term to describe what he was actually doing. The lights hurt so much and the alarm was so loud that all he could really do was squeeze his eyes shut and try not to cry. He couldn’t believe how quickly it had gotten this bad. But with the light and that awful, awful sound…
He suddenly tasted blood in his mouth and realized he’d been biting down on his lip.
“Hey.”
Obi-Wan opened his eyes just a sliver. Anakin was crouching beside him, holding his arm. Well, at least he thought it was Anakin – he was so dizzy that the image swam before his eyes, and he couldn’t be sure he was even sitting upright anymore.
“How you feeling?”
Obi-Wan just shrugged. He felt his face flush at the worry in Anakin’s face – goodness, this was embarrassing enough without being looked at like a sick youngling. He tried to straighten a little, but winced. Oh, not good, not good… The movement made him feel sick to his stomach. And that was a problem – there was no ‘fresher in the briefing room, and he was not about to let himself throw up in here. The humiliation would be worse than the pain.
“I’m okay,” he said softly. He felt, more than saw, Anakin brushing his hair off his forehead, and leaned into the touch in spite of himself.
“I’m sorry there’s not much I can do.”
“Not your fault,” he mumbled, rather wishing Anakin would stop talking. It was just one more sound to add to the cacophony, and besides, opening his mouth made the nausea worse. “Just wish you didn’t have to see me this way.”
“Oh, stop that. We’ve been over this before – you’re allowed to be taken care of now and then.” Anakin’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “Even strength needs a rest sometimes.”
Obi-Wan’s only reply was a shuddering exhale. When did the cared-for become the caregiver? he wondered vaguely. For all the years he’d spent with Anakin, he tried at every turn to take care of his former padawan. His own needs came last, and that was how he preferred it. How it should have been. But somehow Anakin still managed to do it – to reassure him, to hold him, to just be there. Even in his worst moments, moments of Anakin’s famously untamed temper, he stayed. A storm and a shelter all at once.
Obi-Wan didn’t remember closing his eyes, but suddenly they were flying open again.
If he hadn’t been in so much pain, he might’ve laughed at the sight. Anakin had his lightsaber ignited, expression fierce and battle-ready…while standing on a chair. His opponent?
The red-alert alarm.
Anakin jabbed his lightsaber into the ceiling and traced around the flashing alarm. With the Force, he yanked it out of the wall, leaving a handful of torn wires in its place.
Then, looking satisfied with himself, he chucked it across the room.
“Better?”
A part of him was tempted to scold – a trooper would have to reinstall that later, after all. But the flashing light was gone. The room was silent, except for the muffled sound of the other alarms in the hall. Obi-Wan took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Thank you.”
Anakin just nodded, hopping down from the chair. Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, but he felt Anakin return to his side and slip an arm around his shoulders. He tensed and considered pulling away. He probably should have pulled away. But the floor was so hard and cold, and ache in his head so sharp, that he found himself leaning into Anakin’s chest.
He let himself be folded into the shelter of steady arms.
Anakin found himself staring at Obi-Wan’s hands.
He remembered a time when they hadn’t been so callused, the skin smooth and free of scrapes and battle scars. The war had changed them – had changed him, too. But these were the same hands that had brushed away his tears as a kid, that had adjusted his lightsaber technique with steadiness and patience. The same hands he had squeezed so hard as he cried out in agony, coming home from Geonosis with one of his own arms missing. These hands had sheltered him, guided him, raised him. It would take a thousand lifetimes, Anakin realized, to pay back every kindness they’d shown him.
But he could try. With his own hands, both metal and flesh, he could try.
Anakin didn’t know how long they stayed that way – shoulder to shoulder, one hand moving in circles on his back – before Obi-Wan suddenly pulled away. He sat upright, eyes shut tightly, as a hand came up to his mouth.
“I don’t…” he started, pausing to swallow. “Sorry. I don’t…feel very well.”
Anakin leaned forward, too. “Nauseous?”
He gave a tight nod.
Kriff. That would be a lot less of a problem, Anakin thought, if we weren’t stuck in this Force-forsaken room. Rex and Ahsoka, can we speed it up a little out there, please?
But then he remembered the storage closet. Pushing to his feet, he reopened the door and swatted aside the spiderwebs. He dumped the rags and cleaning supplies out of the bucket before bringing it back to Obi-Wan.
“Just in case,” he said, kneeling down to place the bucket beside him.
For a few minutes there was nothing but silence. Obi-Wan had wrapped one arm around his middle as he breathed deeply through his nose, sometimes inhaling sharply and bringing a fist to his lips. He seemed to be fighting the nausea, and for a while Anakin thought he might’ve actually been winning. But then Obi-Wan groaned and pulled the bucket into his lap, heaving up the contents of his stomach.
“Shh, you’re okay,” Anakin whispered. “You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice nearly a sob. “I…”
Anakin shushed him. “I’ve got you.”
When he’d finished, Obi-Wan slid the bucket to the floor and buried his head in his knees. This time, he didn’t balk at the arm sliding around his shoulders.
Anakin didn’t move for what seemed like forever – even when his back ached against the wall, even after his butt had gone numb, he didn’t risk jostling Obi-Wan. He distracted himself by synching their breaths, counting every shaky exhale to judge the passage of time. It was almost like meditating, he decided. Except instead of centering on his own breath, he used Obi-Wan’s. Eventually he could hardly tell the difference. They may as well have been breathing through the same pair of lungs. He’d felt like that before – sometimes, when they sparred together, it was like they were moving and breathing as one, part of the same mind. Maybe, in some ways, they were.
Anakin almost didn’t notice the sudden silence. But then he realized it – the alarm echoing outside the door had stopped. Did that mean…?
His commlink buzzed.
“We’ve got him, sir,” came Rex’s voice. “General Durd has been returned to the prison block.”
Anakin heaved a sigh of relief. “Great, Rex. Thanks.”
“The ship is back to standard procedures, so you’re free to move about again. Hope the briefing room wasn’t too foul a prison for you,” he said, his voice playful for a moment before sobering. “Erm… How’s General Kenobi?”
Anakin glanced down to where Obi-Wan was resting against his shoulder. Even at the sound of voices, he hadn’t stirred. Anakin hoped he was asleep, though he knew the pain probably wouldn’t let him. Not until he was lying down at least, preferably with some painkillers in his system.
“Actually, Rex, can you do me a favor?”
He gave Rex the directions to Obi-Wan’s room on The Negotiator and described where he could find the pill bottle. Rex promised to meet them at Anakin’s quarters when he’d gotten it. When the comm went silent, Anakin gently shook Obi-Wan’s shoulders.
“Hey,” he said as Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open. “You ready to nap somewhere more comfortable?”
The ghost of a smile flickered across Obi-Wan’s lips. “Please.”
Anakin stood first, then pulled Obi-Wan up with both hands. Obi-Wan started swaying almost immediately – whoops, too fast…too fast… – before Anakin quickly led him to a chair.
For a moment, Obi-Wan’s mental shields dropped. He regained them almost as quickly, but not before Anakin felt the wave of vertigo and nausea and pain. And on top of them, embarrassment.
“I can’t…” Obi-Wan said softly, avoiding Anakin’s eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll make it that far.”
Anakin sank down into the chair beside him. His relief that they weren’t stuck in the briefing room anymore was short-lived – unless he resorted to carrying Obi-Wan on his back, they might as well still be on lockdown.
“Maybe I could…” Anakin started to say.
But he was interrupted by the sound of the sliding door.
“Hey, Generals.” Cody entered the room, flanked by a smiling Ahsoka.
In spite of the wave of self-consciousness Anakin felt ripple through the Force, Obi-Wan smiled. For a moment, the dark circles beneath his eyes didn’t seem quite as severe. Anakin had never been more relieved to see anyone in his life.
But as Cody stepped further into the room, he nearly tripped over something metal and small. With a smirk on his face, he stooped down to grab it – the red-alert alarm, abandoned where Anakin had thrown it.
“I see you took matters into your own hands, General Skywalker.”
“Hey, how do you know that was me? Could’ve been Obi-Wan.”
Cody chuckled. “Nah. I know General Kenobi. When he’s impulsive and dumb…” He crossed the room and dropped the alarm down the garbage shoot. “He at least remembers to clean up after himself.”
“Tidiness was never Anakin’s strong suit,” Obi-Wan said. His voice was a little raspy, but there was a lightness to it. “You should’ve seen his bedroom as a kid – ”
“Alright, anyway,” Anakin said, rolling his eyes as Ahsoka burst into a fit of laughter. But that was a good sign – if Obi-Wan could tease him, he must be feeling a little better.
“I was told you could use a hand?” said Cody, coming over to the briefing table.
Obi-Wan’s face was pale, but at that his cheeks flushed a little. “I’m afraid I’m feeling…a bit off-color.”
Cody’s brows hitched for a moment – he must’ve been aware, then, that Obi-Wan didn’t usually admit to that sort of thing. But his gaze softened, and he knelt down to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes.
“We’ve got you, General.”
It was probably quite a sight – Anakin and Cody supporting him on either side, Ahsoka running ahead to hold open any doors. Obi-Wan begged the Force that they wouldn’t pass anyone in the hall. This was embarrassing enough without it becoming the latest gossip in the barracks. But they saw no one else. Whether that was Anakin’s doing or the will of the Force, he didn’t care.
As they approached the door to Anakin’s quarters, Obi-Wan eased out a sigh. Finally. He couldn’t wait to collapse into bed, disappearing into the shelter of soft sheets.
But then he glanced on either side, to the men he’d come to love like brothers. Obi-Wan was leaning into them, feeling less and less steady as the hallway seemed to tilt before his eyes. But he was secure in their arms. They wouldn’t let him fall. They were a shelter in their own right.
Perhaps the only shelter he’d ever really needed.