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Obi-Wan loves the rain.
He loves the smell of it. He loves meditating to the steady sound of it.
Or rather, he used to love the rain. Now, Obi-Wan thinks he would much rather spend his days in some dry desert somewhere. Anything is better than staying in this cold, wet hellscape for a minute longer.
At least he can stay somewhat dry inside his tent. He is grateful he has one to himself. There is space enough for two, but the clones tend to enjoy piling in as many of themselves into one tent as possible, and well, Obi-Wan is their commanding officer.
It is for this reason that Obi-Wan finds himself tossing and turning every which way on the small cot afforded to him. All he wants to do is sleep. If he can sleep, he won’t have to think about the hollowness inside of him — that awful, inescapable, gnawing pain that only comes with hunger. He flips onto his back and stares at the slope of the tent ceiling. His stomach lets out a pained growl of protest. He flips over again.
There is a certain level of hopelessness that comes with hunger. Obi-Wan is lucky though. For most of his life, he has been well-fed. Sure, some missions here and there required him to go a day or two without food or with smaller rations. Zigoola. Lanteeb. He’s experienced hunger before, but never quite this bad. Obi-Wan is now going on seven days without food — or maybe it’s eight. He’s not sure. The starvation is making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the thought of food. All he knows is that he and his men have been stuck here due to the heavy storms for over a month and they are scraping the barrel for rations.
The storms on this planet are not like the storms on Coruscant or even Kamino. They are impenetrable. The clouds that form on this planet are so thick, they practically form a wall. Not to mention the electrical charges that come off of them fry all comms, radar, navigation and life support systems on their ships.
The planet is a desolate one. There is no game to hunt, no fruits to pick. Nothing to supplement the loss of supplies. Nothing at all.
They were not supposed to be here this long.
Obi-Wan plans for everything, but he did not plan for this. When the storms appeared, Obi-Wan had made the call to wait it out. It was truly the only safe call to make, but that was a month ago. It is still storming.
After a week of being stuck here past their initial scheduled departure, Obi-Wan had ordered the rationing of food. Two meals a day. He eventually restricted it down to one meal a day. Even that became too taxing on their dwindling supplies. Now, the clones can only afford to eat half a ration a day and well, Obi-Wan is meant to protect them. He will not take from them. So he hasn’t. For seven, possibly eight, days.
Obi-Wan rolls over once more and curls up his knees toward his chest in an effort to stop the hunger pangs. It doesn’t help.
He takes a deep breath.
He’s been through worse than this. As long as there is water, humans can survive for weeks, sometimes even months, without food. And there is plenty of water, so this is simply a discomfort. A minor inconvenience. Mind over matter. Yes, he can do that. He’s a Jedi after all and Jedi don’t let themselves give in to discomforts and minor inconveniences.
Even now, with his disdain for the rain that is keeping him trapped and starving on this planet, he can still find it in himself to meditate to the sound of it thundering down upon the tent. Maybe if he meditates, he’ll tire himself out and he can finally get some sleep — or some escape. Whichever.
He takes another deep breath and wraps his senses around the sound of the rain. It is steadfast and soothing even if it signals death for him and his men if it fails to stop.
His men. They have managed to keep their spirits up despite the dwindling supplies and soaked through tents. Obi-Wan wishes his men at least could have gotten out of here before the storms imprisoned them, but selfishly, he is glad to have their company. After all, there is nothing misery loves more.
Water leaks through everywhere and even Obi-Wan’s “dry” clothes are still always damp. He shivers slightly and tries to imagine himself somewhere warm and dry and far away from here.
And even after all of this, Obi-Wan knows he still loves the rain.
When he wakes up on what is day eight, or possibly nine, of no food, Obi-Wan finds himself looking up, not at the dripping ceiling of his tent, but at his Commander.
“Cody?” Obi-Wan asks blearily.
So his attempts at sleep were a success. Obi-Wan isn’t sure for how long he slept, but he does not feel rested. His body is lethargic without the necessary nutrients needed to keep him going. No amount of sleep could replace that.
“What are…”
“I’m sorry for the intrusion, General, but I thought you would want to know right away.”
“What is it, Commander?” Obi-Wan says, sitting up. The thin, damp , blanket that had rested on his body falls down into a crumple in his lap. His eyes try to focus on Cody, but he finds it a difficult task. Still, he lands his feet on the sodden ground and stands up.
His vision swims and he only just barely stops himself from swaying.
“We were able to make contact with General Skywalker. Sir,” Cody says with more emotion than Obi-Wan is used to hearing from the man, “the storm is letting up.”
Obi-Wan could collapse with relief — or general weakness. He’s not sure which. But still, he stands.
“Anakin…” Obi-Wan says. “Where is he? Is he in this system?”
“Yes, General,” Cody says. “He’s above us in the Resolute .”
“Let’s go. Gather the men.”
“General, it’s still not quite safe enough. Our comms are getting through, but our other navigation instruments are still being affected. The 501st is predicting three hours.”
Three hours.
What is three hours to a man who has waited a month?
A lifetime, it seems.
“All right,” Obi-Wan concedes. There is nothing else to be done. “Make preparations to move out anyway and keep the line open with General Skywalker, I don’t want—”
Dizziness forces him to close his eyes. He is not sure why he feels so nauseous when there is nothing in his stomach. This time, he cannot stop himself from swaying.
Cody’s eyes flare with alarm. “Woah there, General,” he says. “Maybe you should sit down.”
“No, I’m fine, Cody, I—” Obi-Wan starts to see black spots. He staggers forward and Cody catches him.
“General,” Cody says slowly. “Have you had your ration for today?”
At his silence, Cody narrows his eyes. “Sir, when was the last time you ate any rations.”
Obi-Wan really doesn’t want to answer that one. “I’m not sure,” he says.
For Cody, this appears to be answer enough. The commander shoots Obi-Wan a disapproving look that Obi-Wan might have felt chastised by were he not currently shaking involuntarily.
Cody guides Obi-Wan back to the cot and lays him down.
“I’ll be right back,” Cody promises. Obi-Wan wants to remind him that he has orders to organize the men and the dwindling supplies, but he lacks the energy to settle back into his role as a commanding officer. He gets the feeling Cody would have found a way to get around the orders anyway.
Alone in the tent, Obi-Wan realizes that for the first time in over a month, the rain no longer pounds against his tent. An eerie silence is all that is left. There is no sound to center around and in a strange way, Obi-Wan almost wants it back. The sound was an enemy disguised as an ally and now, in the silence, he has nothing to center on but his own discomfort.
He is glad for Cody’s swift return, even though he knows he will only be fretting over him in a way Obi-Wan does not want to be fretted over.
“Here,” Cody says, handing him a ration bar. “Eat this.”
Obi-Wan eyes the ration bar with distaste. The ironic thing is that he isn’t even hungry anymore. Or, at least, he has lost his appetite. Nausea replaces it and the thought of eating anything makes him want to throw up.
“I don’t feel like eating,” Obi-Wan admits.
“Come on, General,” Cody says. “You need something in your stomach besides water.”
“Staying hydrated is important,” Obi-Wan says defensively.
“So is staying fed, now take the ration bar,” Cody says impatiently. The hunger is getting to his normally cool and collected commander too.
“Fine.”
Obi-Wan takes a few bites of the ration bar. It is dry on his tongue, but he swallows small bites of it. The dense bar sits heavy as stones in his stomach and he takes a deep breath through his nose. He sets the bar down and Cody gives him a disapproving look.
“I can’t,” Obi-Wan says quietly.
Cody’s gaze goes from condemnatory to sympathetic. “It’s all right. I am sure Kix will take a look at you and get you on a nutrition plan when we get up to the Resolute .”
Obi-Wan groans. Kix is not going to be pleased with him.
The sound of an engine roaring and then settling pierces the air. A commotion follows. It is the sound of clones and one other voice shouting above them — the sound of it somehow both determined and nervous in only the way he could be.
“Where is he?”
The sound of his former Padawan’s voice is muffled by the tent, but Obi-Wan would recognize it anywhere. His heart clenches and it’s only now that Obi-Wan becomes conscious of just how much he had missed Anakin. It is not often they are separated for so long without any form of communication. Obi-Wan spent many nights and days on this planet thinking about him and wondering if he was okay out there, wherever he was. Now, the sound of his best friend, his brother, finally here after so many days of hopelessness makes his eyes sting with emotion.
Anakin bursts through the front of the tent, eyes wild and gleaming — he has always been his own kind of storm.
“Master,” Anakin breathes. “ Obi-Wan .”
Cody sidesteps out of Anakin’s way — a wise decision really because Anakin tears through the small space like a rancor.
He sits down beside Obi-Wan and without a second thought, pulls him into a tight hug. Anakin buries his head in Obi-Wan’s neck like he did when he was a Padawan.
It appears Anakin missed him too.
Tears trail down Obi-Wan’s face and he is surprised by the quiet sob that escapes him.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chokes out.
“Master,” Anakin says again, his own voice laced with emotion. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“No, but my men...” Obi-Wan’s voice breaks. “My men are starving and it’s freezing down here and I… I haven’t been able to do anything about it.”
“It’s all right,” Anakin soothes. “We’re here now. We’ll get you out of here. All of you.” Anakin looks up at Cody as he says it.
“I’ll gather the men,” Cody says, leaving the two Jedi to their emotional reunion.
Obi-Wan tears himself away from Anakin’s embrace and looks over his friend, who, in turn, is looking over him.
“You… you need medical,” Anakin whispers.
“It’s not that bad,” Obi-Wan says. “I just need some rest.”
Anakin scoffs. “You need more than that, you need food . You’re practically skin and bone. I can see you, I just felt you.”
Does he really look that bad? Obi-Wan isn’t sure. He hasn’t seen himself in front of a mirror in over a month.
“Obi-Wan, you’re shaking. ”
Oh right . He is shaking. Even with the strength of all his will, he cannot seem to make himself stop the involuntary tremors.
“Can we leave?” Obi-Wan asks.
“No, not quite yet, I’m sorry.”
“It hasn’t been three hours yet...” Obi-Wan says blearily before looking sharply at Anakin. “Wait. How are you even here?”
“I risked it.”
Obi-Wan sighs. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” He offers Anakin a half-smile, which is promptly reflected back at him. Normally, Obi-Wan would have chided him for his recklessness, but he finds that he does not care. He’s just glad Anakin’s here with him.
“So,” Anakin starts, “what was it like going a whole month without me?”
“Quiet.”
He knows what Anakin is doing. He’s trying to calm him, to distract him from the time that moves so slow.
“Sounds boring.”
“It was rather dull, I’ll admit. Though, the clones do have some interesting games and stories for passing the time.”
“Tell me about them. I want to know.”
Obi-Wan wants to tell him everything. The whole ordeal and the long nights of playing sabacc and chance while ignoring their growling bellies. The constant cold and the raised tensions and an even stronger camaraderie that can only be forged in the most hopeless of situations. He wants to tell him everything and still, he cannot find the energy. “Anakin, I’m… I’m really tired.”
Anakin frowns. “You just gotta hang in there for me a little longer,” he says.
“I don’t feel good,” Obi-Wan murmurs, leaning his head on Anakin’s shoulder.
“I know. We’ll get you out of here soon.”
Obi-Wan centers around the sound of Anakin breathing. The even, repetitive rhythm of it is just as soothing as the rain.
Cody ducks into the tent with a broad grin across his face. “Generals, the 501st has given us the go-ahead. We can get out of here.”
Obi-Wan feels something inside of him shatter and melt away, leaving him in an exhausted state of relief.
Anakin pulls Obi-Wan up onto shaky feet and holds him steady, even as the landscape tilts. He guides him along and takes him outside the tent. The sun warms his face for the first time in a month and Obi-Wan thinks he could cry again at that simple revelation.
“Come on,” Anakin says quietly, his grip strong and grounding. “The storm is over.”