Archive of Our Own ^beta

For once in his life, Obi-Wan Kenobi is eager to get to a medbay. As Ahsoka breaks off to speak with the Togrutan Governor, he splits off with Plo and Anakin's group, following them as his former padawan and his fellow council member discuss the reconstruction and relief efforts the Republic will be making.

He keeps a smile on his face, his shoulders up, back straight, and barely listens. He gives his input where it's asked for, nods approvingly at what they say, and then at the first break in conversation, he begs off. "Ah- you two certainly have things handled from here. I think Helix might kill me if I don't have have my shoulder looked at, so if it's all the same, I'll leave you to it."

He gives them both a quick nod and farewell, then follows the steady stream of clone troopers and (former) Togrutan slaves towards the medbay on Plo Koon's flagship. As he walks, he recognises several refugees who were direct victims of his attempts to 'help'. He averts his eyes after that, unable to bear the weight of the guilt he feels for their suffering.

At least no more will suffer for his attempts to make things better. But that isn't true, is it? The great and terrible General Kenobi, bringing peace to world after world by force. He goes where the war does... or perhaps war follows hot on his heels.

No. Focus. Mind clear, eyes ahead.

His posture goes rigid, eyes fixating forward and catching on the nearest Togrutan victim. She's limping, clearly struggling to walk...

She needs help. He could go up to her, offer her his good shoulder to lean on--

The ghostly buzzing of an elecrowhip stings his ears, and he flinches irrationally.

He has to duck into an empty hallway for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning against a wall. The cold durasteel against his forehead helps, mostly.

He must get ahold of himself.

Why can't he move past these feelings? Why won't the Force accept his guilt, let him release it. Why is it so different from last time?

He's been a slave before... he remembers it, if only vaguely. A month spent on Bandomeer, an explosive collar 'round the slight neck of his 13 year old self.

It hadn't hurt so much, then.

What makes this encounter so different? What-- no, don't think about it, don't think don't thinkdon'tthink---

Obi-Wan stays there for a moment, frozen as he's torn between trying not to think and trying to force himself to move past this moment. He still needs to get to the medbay.

It takes longer than he would like to admit to collect himself. Once he has, Obi-Wan leaves the hallway, rejoining the procession to the medbay. Meditation and rest, that's what he needs. He'll be fine once he has that.

Meditation and rest, that's all. Right foot, left foot. Keep going, down the hall.

He almost doesn't notice when he reaches his destination, eyes downcast. He's just become part of the flow of people around him, head down, feet dragging as exhaustion creeps in on him.

The only tell that he's entered the medbay is the sight of the threshold as he crosses it, and the sound of gruff clone voices guiding people where they need to be.

Finally, his head lifts, and he takes in the sights around him.

Dozens of Togruta are scattered around the room in varying degrees of distress. He feels tears begin to sting his eyes as he sees a man laid face down, still as death while a medic cleans the electrolash wounds on his back and lekku. The wounds must hurt terribly to be touched, but the elderly Togrutan simply doesn't have the energy to flinch as each lashing is sterilized and then covered with a bacta strip.

His eyes fixate on that one man, frozen to the spot. He doesn't move, not until he feels a hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch from the suddenness of it.

The clone who touched him immediately lets go, seeming shocked by his reaction. "General Kenobi, sir," the man says, and Obi-Wan belatedly recognizes him as Wolffe, Plo's Commander. "Are you here for medical assistance?"

It takes Obi-Wan's brain a second to catch up to the present. "I- er. Yes. My shoulder--" he cuts off, which he knows is unlike him. Glancing around the room, he hedges slightly. "It can wait. You have more pressing injuries to tend to."

"Nonsense, sir." Wolffe says, jerking his head to indicate that Obi-Wan should follow him before he walks along the medbay. "We have plenty of beds and hands to go 'round. I'll get you settled and a medic will take a look at your shoulder. Anyways, I know Helix would have my head if I let you sneak away the one time you voluntarily come to a medbay, sir."

The point makes a tense smile crack across his face. Clearly, his medical officer has a reputation even outside of the 212th and 501st. "Commander, don't tell me you're scared of Helix," he manages to tease.

"Scared?" Wolffe asks, the brow of his blinded eye arching judgmentally. "That maniac took down half a dozen droids with just his medkit once. I'm terrified, and frankly, sir, you'd be wise to fear him too."

Obi-Wan remembers that. The infirmary tent was ambushed, and by the time Obi-Wan got back to assist, those in the tent had it handled already. Between Helix and those troopers who were still conscious and able to shoot, the ambush was soundly reduced to scrap metal.

Hm. Perhaps he should be more wary of igniting his medic's ire.

"... point taken, Commander Wolffe." Obi-Wan responds, letting himself be led to an empty bed.

There are still plenty more open, so as Wolffe said, his worries of taking up someone else's space are unfounded. Obi-Wan winces as he pulls himself onto the bed, making his shoulder light up with pain. He brushes off any offer of help however, his heartbeat jumping irrationally at the prospect.

Once he's settled on his bed, Wolffe calls over a free medic, and then bids him farewell, moving on to the next person in need of help.

His wounds (far more extensive than just the shoulder, but nothing critical) are quickly cataloged by the junior medic, then he is given some water and told to relax.

He doesn't, not quite.

It's downright impossible for him to really calm his mind, but he is exhausted. After several stretches of time spent staring listlessly at the ceiling and not thinking, Obi-Wan manages to fall into a restless sleep. (... With the aid of the water and a couple pills left as an option to him.)

°|●*.•

When he wakes again, there is a hand on his back, shaking him.

Obi-Wan jolts, involuntarily shuddering at the touch before he forces himself to be more awake. He's still in the medbay, the smell of bacta and sterilizer gives that away. His face is wet, though. Did they need to put bacta on--

Oh, no, those are his tears.

"Obi-Wan," a voice he recognizes as Anakin's cuts through the fog of his sleep-addled mind.

He manages a grunt, then rolls on his back and props himself up using his good shoulder. His other still hasn't been tended to, so he can't have been here that long.

"Anakin?" He greets, quickly wiping the tears from his face. He must have been crying in his sleep-- nothing new, at least in recent times. He's not sure exactly what it was for, but it isn't hard to imagine. There are plenty of tearworthy tragedies in this room alone.

There's a little bit of awkwardness as Anakin appears to have difficulty finding something to say, so Obi-Wan helps. "I thought you'd be busy still. I know there's still so much to do... I apologize for slacking."

Anakin shakes his head quickly, looking like he wants to reach out before thinking better of it, given how Obi-Wan flinched as he woke. "There's not much, really. Our part is pretty much over, we're just supposed to rest and recover." He pauses, unsure. "Are you okay? You were crying."

The older Jedi's shoulder begins to ache, so he pulls himself up to sit properly and lean against the headboard. He hasn't had a chance to change-- his clothing is still torn, and smells of the filthy mineshaft, and smoke.

"I'll be fine," he promises, eyes downcast as he prays it will be true. "There is so much pain in the force, I can't quite help a few tears." That is far from the true reason, but he hopes it is enough to satisfy Anakin's curiosity.

“A few tears,” Anakin repeats, voice oddly flat. His shoulder twitches in another aborted attempt to reach out. “Obi-Wan... you were sobbing.” The elder Jedi’s gut drops as he listens. “You wouldn’t wake up, they called me here to see if I could help.”

It’s only then that Obi-Wan notices the pair of medics hovering nearby. He feels a sudden flush of embarrassment. Stupid. How could he be so idiotic as to sleep in such a public place, knowing he would have nightmares?

He should have gone back to his quarters first...

Only, the 212th is still several hours away, and he was so exhausted...

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, fighting the ridiculous urge to hug himself. He is a Jedi Master, a Council member.

Anakin is shaking his head. “What? Why? Obi-Wan, are you sure you’re okay?”

He isn’t. “You shouldn't have needed to cone down here to wake me up. I... I'm alright. It was just a nightmare."

"Master," Anakin starts firmly, and moves a little closer, feeling bold. "First of all, I was gonna come see you anyways, so you didn't... inconvenience me, or whatever ridiculous thing you're thinking. Second, if you're hurting, I don't care what work I have, I'm gonna come to help you."

Obi-Wan's knee-jerk reaction is to think about how very against the code that is. Worryingly so. But that thought is quickly overridden by the warmth he feels upon Anakin's declaration of loyalty, of unconditional friendship.

What did he ever do to deserve a padawan with such a gentle heart?

Obi-Wan relaxes a bit, for the first time in days. "... thank you, Anakin." He finally responds, letting out a breath he feels he's been holding for weeks.

"I mean it," Anakin insists. "No thanks needed." He pauses, and Obi-Wan thinks he can sense a faint buzzing from Anakin's mind.

He can tell his former Padawan is trying to send him reassuring, comforting feelings through the force... he's radiating protective warmth like an emotional space heater. If Obi-Wan felt ready to share the state of his own mind, he would be basking in it.

As it is, he keeps his mind and force signature firmly closed off.

No need to show Anakin the horrors within.

As Obi-Wan struggles to think of something to say, Anakin appears to grow impatient. He clearly has questions, and he's never quite been the type to hold off on them, regardless of timing.

"Master... I don't..." he stops, having difficulty phrasing his question. "I mean. You don't cry... ever. What happened? What was your nightmare about? If... if you're okay with talking about it."

Obi-Wan almost laughs, but the sound sticks in his throat, becoming a choked noise.

What was he crying about? Look around, Anakin. The answer should be obvious, he wants to say.

He doesn't, though. He knows they've been in similar situations before, rescuing the citizens of Ryloth, for one. He didn't cry then, so why would now be any different?

Anakin's last concession sticks in his mind, though. Is he ready to talk about it? Can he bring himself to?

No.

Force, no. He can't even think about it.

His hand flutters awkwardly as he struggles to find a place for it, resisting his urge to hug himself. "I... not right now, Anakin."

It's not a never, though. Obi-Wan knows... intellectually he knows that Anakin would understand. That, of everyone he knows, Anakin, a former slave and fellow Jedi, would understand the damage done to him. He may even have suggestions for how to help.

"Okay," Anakin hides his disappointment to the best of his ability. Obi-Wan appreciates the attempt, even if he sees through it. "... when you're ready, Obi-Wan. I'll be here, whenever you need me to listen."

The assurance brings a wan smile to Obi-Wan's face. "... I'll find you when I am, dear one."

No one can make Obi-Wan feel quite as safe and at ease as Anakin does.

The younger Jedi beams at the promise, moving a little closer. "Since you're not in a talking mood, want me to tell you how my part of the mission went, Master?"

The change of subject is a relief. Obi-Wan nods readily, happy to listen to Anakin's impromptu and likely dramatized mission report.

He listens with rapt attention as Anakin goes through all of what he considers were 'the fun parts', making jokes and blowing quite a few details out of proportion.

It takes Obi-Wan's mind off his own experience, and he finds himself smiling along as Anakin finishes his story. By the end of it, Anakin is sitting on the edge of his bed, his thigh pressed along Obi-Wan's through the sterile sheets.

"Hey, Master?"

The epithet draws Obi-Wan's attention, and he nods to indicate Anakin should go on.

Anakin is... a little hesitant. "Is it okay if I touch you? I wanna give you a hug, but not if it'll make you uncomfortable."

The question makes Obi-Wan's heart swell, and he finds himself nodding even before he consciously decides. "Anakin... yes, of course. I think we both could use one, after this mission."

Once again, Anakin beams, his force signature liked a supernova of happiness as he surges forward, wrapping his arms tight around Obi-Wan. "Yeah. And good, because I'm not letting go anytime soon, old man."

Obi-Wan ignores the pain in his shoulder. It's nothing compared to the warmth and security he feels right now in Anakin's embrace. He feels... cared for, loved, appreciated. All of the things that slave camp stripped from him.

It's gonna be okay, he realizes. This will pass, because he has Anakin here to help him make things right. When they're together, no challenge is too great, no problem is unsolvable.

Just as he's relaxing into the hug, getting comfortable for the duration, he hears quick footsteps and a gasp.

"Masters!" Ahsoka greets them cheerfully. "I just came to see how you're doing-- I didn't know it was hug Master Obi-Wan day! Can I have one too?"

"Get in here, Snips," Anakin says, lifting an arm to make space for her.

"Always room for one more," Obi-Wan agrees more mildly, also making space to accommodate their padawan.

Ahsoka doesn't need to be told a third time; she squishes herself tight into the embrace, hugging both her teachers with all the strength in her limbs.

"We should hug more often," she says decisively.

"Definitely," Anakin agrees.

And well, Obi-Wan would say he's outnumbered, but he would agree either way. "We should," he responds softly, hugging them both a bit tighter.

They're a family, and he couldn't ask for a better one.

“One more step, Kenobi,” Dooku’s voice rings out, deep and commanding, “and I order my ship to fire upon the city.” He’s close; Obi-Wan can sense where he is, even if he can’t see him. He could probably keep him from sending the order at all, but--

He freezes.

“You’ll let me go, or the lives of these civilians will be on your shoulders.”

Obi-Wan is rooted to the spot, suppressed images flashing through his mind at the words.

The mission is to capture Dooku, to stop him from continuing this war. Knowing him, he’ll fire on the city as he escapes anyways.

But Obi-Wan freezes.

myfaultmyfaultmyfault--

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin catches up then, stopping by his old Master’s side to look around. Dooku’s presence slips away.

Obi-Wan had him, and he let him get away.

“Which way did he go?” Anakin demands, panting. His arm is still sparking from the lightning Dooku hit it with. His glove is off, melted bits of the leather trapped between the durasteel plates.

“I-” Obi-Wan jolts back to reality, his brain still lagging a few seconds behind. “I don’t-”

“Kark,” Anakin curses softly, shutting off his saber. “We lost him. Again. He was so close... I was sure we had him this time.”

A lump of guilt makes Obi-Wan’s throat stick. He lost Dooku.

The Count’s ship takes off in the near distance, and, thankfully, he at least has enough honor to not fire on the city as he leaves.

Anakin sighs. “We get closer every time; we’ll get him next time for sure, Master.”

Obi-Wan just nods, still stuck to the spot. He should have had Dooku... he did have Dooku. And he let him go. All because he can’t move on.

Still a slave, just now to his own mind.

“Master?”

It’s only when Anakin puts his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder that he realizes he’s trembling.

“Hey, it’s okay, he’s a slippery snake, Obi-Wan. We’ll get him next time.” When Obi-Wan doesn’t immediately respond, Anakin’s tone turns more concerned. “Are you okay?”

Obi-Wan wants to answer, but all he can manage is a shake of his head. No, he’s not okay, and pretending that he is isn’t doing anyone any good.

“Did he hurt you? Obi-Wan, what...” Anakin faces his friend more fully, putting both hands on his shoulders. Obi-Wan closes his eyes, head hanging as he struggles to think of an appropriate answer to that.

Seeming to realize that this isn’t the place for this discussion, Anakin squeezes his shoulders. “let’s get back to the ship, you can tell me what happened there.” He pauses. “... Do you need a hug?”

Obi-Wan almost cries right then and there. Anakin has gotten in a habit now of asking that, whenever Obi-Wan’s force signature feels as tumultuous as it did after he had that nightmare in the MedBay. It’s almost become Anakin’s way of asking if this is something related to that.

And Force, is it nice to have a friend so perceptive and understanding.

All he needs to do is murmur “Yes,” and Anakin’s arms are around him in an instant, letting Obi-Wan sag and lean on him.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Obi-Wan letting Anakin hold him up while he struggles to process and release this... this tidal wave of guilt and panic that has overcome him.

When he feels-- well, not okay, but-- functional, he pulls away a little, and Anakin lets him, a concerned look in his eyes.

“Let’s get back to the ship,” his friend says, and Obi-Wan agrees with a nod.

°|●*.•

When they return, Obi-Wan all but collapses into the copilot seat of The Twilight.

Anakin is quick to turn the pilot’s seat around to face him, dropping onto it and giving his former master his full attention.

Instead of pressing for an explanation, Anakin waits. Obi-Wan is grateful for it, using the silence to try to put his jumbled thoughts in order.

“I froze,” he finally says, shame lacing his voice. “I- I had him, but, I froze. He said something, and, and-- I let him slip away.”

“What did he say?” There’s no judgement in Anakin’s voice as he asks, and once again, Obi-Wan finds himself thinking he doesn’t deserve Anakin.

The older Jedi pulls a hand down his face. “He said... if I took another step, he’d have his ship fire on the city. And it’d be my fault when people die, and...” He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly in an attempt to keep his voice even. Kriff, he feels like a padawan again. “It was like... the slavers. All those people dead, because I didn’t know when, when to stop...”

“Hey, hey now,” Anakin says, moving off the seat to crouch in front of his friend, taking his hand and pulling it away from his face. “No, Obi-Wan, look at me. Bad people do bad things, it’s not your fault.”

“But it was,” Obi-Wan insists, the cracks beginning to show. “It was-- my fault. They- They gave me the rules, I didn’t follow them, and people died. Innocent people, Anakin...” He can’t meet his former student’s eyes. “I just, I just want to help people, but it seems all I do is hurt them. I was never-- never even meant to be a Jedi, I-”

He stops, feeling he’s said too much. Anakin doesn’t need to hear that story.

Apparently, Anakin feels differently.

“Master,” he starts, pulling his hands down again to see his face better. “Master, what are you talking about- not meant to be a Jedi? You’re the best Jedi I know. The best Jedi in the Order.”

A sound leaves Obi-Wan suddenly, and he isn’t sure whether he’d call it a sob or a laugh. “Look at me,” he mutters disparagingly. “Letting my-- my emotions rule me. Some Jedi I am.”

Anakin frowns, continuing to hold his wrists down and away from his face. “Obi-Wan.” he keeps frowning, gaze intense. “You told me that having emotions is natural. You’re not letting them rule you, not anymore. You’re letting them out, so you can let them go.”

And well, it sounds right.

Anakin isn’t done, continuing once his works have sunk in. “Not all emotions-- not all trauma, is the same. Sometimes you need help. Can I help you?”

Obi-Wan finds himself nodding before he even really thinks about it. “... please.”

That brings a smile back to Anakin’s face, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. “Okay, tell me everything. This is more than just Kadavo, isn’t it?”

He nods, though it’s reluctant. Everything? Where does he even start?

That answer is decided for him by Anakin. “Why do you think you weren’t meant to be a Jedi? Who told you that?”

The way Anakin asks makes Obi-Wan think he might want to kill whoever is responsible. “No one,” he says, though that isn’t exactly true. Bruck Chun told him plenty of times; but kids are mean, and that was a long time ago. “No one had to,” he clarifies, dropping his gaze from Anakin’s once more. “I aged out. Not-- not almost aged out. I did. I was sent to Bandomeer, to be a farmer. The AgriCorps.”

“What?” This is the first Anakin is hearing of this, and his tone says as much.

It’s not something Obi-Wan likes to talk about, and it’s not something most of the Jedi old enough to remember like to acknowledge.

“My 13th was a week away but there was a ship going, and I’d been rejected by everyone, so they sent me early, rather than wait for next month’s.” Even Qui-Gon rejected him. “The ship didn’t make it to Bandomeer; we were boarded by pirates, and I spent my thirteenth nameday in a slave camp, mining.”

Anakin listens, maintaining a calm expression, even as his fingers tighten on Obi-Wan’s wrists.

“I spent... a month, two months? I’m not sure, they don’t let you keep track of the days...” He pauses, needing a moment, just a moment. “Lucky for us... Qui-Gon was on that same ship. He escaped the pirates, then came and found us. He needed help getting people to follow him-- they didn’t trust him, but I was one of them, they trusted me... so I helped. We got them out of there, but...” he’s kept from moving his hands by Anakin’s firm grip. It helps, a little. It grounds him, feeling warm skin against his own, and the now-cold durasteel grip as a contrast on his other hand. “People died then, too. Because I helped.”

“No, Obi-Wan.” Anakin speaks up, finally. His tone is as firm as his grip. “Not because you helped. Every slave knows the risk of escape. And just about every slave would readily chance death to be free. I know, I entered in The biggest Podrace in the Outer Rim to be free, and I’d do it again, knowing full well that people die in that race every year.” He pauses, waiting for Obi-Wan to look at him again. “Either way, you’re free. You just gave them better odds; an option for something other than slavery or death. You know how it is, and so do I.”

There’s a brief silence between them as Obi-Wan chews on that, tries to accept it.

“Why have you never told me this before? I can help, I understand. You know that.”

As he mentions it, Obi-Wan feels silly, and not only that, but shameful as well. There’s a very clear reason why he didn’t tell Anakin, shouldn’t it be obvious?

“It just... It’s not the same, exactly...” he mutters, looking anywhere but his friend. “I feel silly, being upset over a month or two in a couple slave camps, when you... It seems like nothing compared to what you’ve been through.”

Anakin squeezes his wrists to get his attention, then takes his hands instead. “You’re right, Master. You are being silly, not going to the person best equipped to help you.” His smile puts something at ease in Obi-Wan’s chest. “There’s no point comparing traumas, Obi-Wan. Nobody wins at Misery Sabacc. You’re hurting, and that’s just as significant as when I was hurting when you just started training me. You helped me then, let me help you now.”

Again, Obi-Wan feels that odd surge, making his throat tight and his eyes sting. He is so grateful for Anakin. “You’ve grown so strong and wise, my dear padawan.”

Anakin smiles warmly at him, and that smile chases away the worst of Obi-Wan’s insecurities. “I learned from the best, Master.”

Something inside him melts, Obi-Wan finally finding the strength to look at Anakin; this amazing, kind young man with a heart of gold, who thinks so highly of him. He doesn't deserve him, he knows it... but he has Anakin now, and he's going to do his best to be a good friend to him.

So, for once, for perhaps the first time since he became Qui-Gon's apprentice, he doesn't wait for it to be offered. He asks, "Could I... get another hug, Anakin?"

Anakin's eyes light up with delighted surprise. It's definitely a struggle for him not to make a big deal out of it as he stands up, helping Obi-Wan to his feet as well. "Anytime you need one, Master," he promises, pulling the smaller man into a tight embrace.

Obi-Wan sinks into it, letting Anakin return the favor and take care of him; something he suspects won't be so strange for much longer. Anakin is grown up now, he's no longer his student, he's a young man, and a good person on top of that. Someone Obi-Wan can trust, can put his absolute faith in, can rely on.

He shuts his eyes, feeling truly relaxed and safe like he hasn't since he witnessed Qui-Gon die while he stood helpless to do anything but watch.

And Anakin lets him be weak, be human; let's him shed his mask of untouchable perfection, and allows him this time to just be. To be Obi-Wan, nothing more, and nothing less.

It helps.