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Ahsoka hates it when Anakin leaves her behind.
He’s off-world on some mission too dangerous for a young Padawan like her. She tries her hardest not to be bitter about it, but frankly, she is feeling a little dejected. The only consolation is that Master Obi-Wan is not off-world and he had invited her to stay with him.
Never mind that Anakin had asked him to watch over her. The thought chafes at her. She’s old enough to take care of herself, she doesn’t need anyone babysitting her for what is only meant to be a few days, but Obi-Wan is kind enough to pretend that he is inviting her of his own accord. She knows him well enough to know that he is not doing it out of pity or because he feels like he has to — he wants her company.
Even knowing this, she hovers at Obi-Wan’s door, unsure if she should knock or just enter the passcode. The decision is made for her when the door slides open.
“Ahsoka,” he greets warmly. “I’m glad you came.”
He himself has only just returned from a solo mission of his own. A mission somewhere off in the Idolia System. If he looks a little tired, she can blame it on that. If he looks a little pale, she can blame it on the lighting and, well, Obi-Wan always looks a little pale for a human anyway.
“Thanks for inviting me,” she says a little awkwardly, stepping across the threshold.
The space is clean as ever — no debris nor speck of dust in sight. She likes that about Obi-Wan’s living quarters. A small corner of order in an unordered galaxy. She’s never been able to imitate it, but she can admire it now.
Ahsoka plops down on Obi-Wan’s sofa and, without meaning to, lets out a heavy sigh.
“I know you wanted to go with him,” Obi-Wan says softly. He plops down right next to her in a similar fashion. He tilts his head back tiredly. “I understand your frustration, but I hope you won’t be too bored with me.”
“I’m not upset at you,” Ahsoka amends quickly. It’s the truth. Obi-Wan isn’t the one who left her behind. He’s just the one who has to deal with her. “But I’m not a little kid.”
Something like mirth spills into Obi-Wan’s bright blue eyes. “You’re younger than you think you are.”
“I may be young, but I can handle myself.”
“It’s like I’m in a time loop,” Obi-Wan says, more to himself than anyone. Ahsoka replies anyway.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve had this conversation before with a different Padawan.”
Ahsoka perks up. There is not much she knows of Anakin’s past, but she will take whatever clue she can get.
“Anakin would get quite angry with me when I left him behind. Believe me, your reaction is much… tamer. But still, the root feeling is the same.”
“How would you know what the root feeling is?” Ahsoka asks indignantly.
“Because I’ve also had this conversation with a different Master when I was a padawan myself, but back then I was the one insisting I was grown,” Obi-Wan says. “Am I so old that you think it impossible for me to have been a Padawan once myself?”
Ahsoka flushes. “No,” she says quickly. “You’re just so different from us.”
“I suppose. But we were all children once — unlearned in the ways of the Force and unaware of our own mortality.”
“I’m aware of my mortality,” Ahsoka retorts. “I’m aware of it every time we fight a new campaign.”
Obi-Wan’s face darkens and Ahsoka hates that she is the cause of it.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “It shouldn’t be like that. I want this to be over. I want to fix this so you can be a youngling. So that you can be unaware of your own mortality like younglings are supposed to be.”
“It’s not on you to stop the war,” Ahsoka says softly.
“No, but it is on my generation of Jedi. Padawans shouldn’t have to see this much death when they have barely even lived their own lives.”
Ahsoka swallows, a longing for something she couldn’t have sitting in her stomach.
“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says. He sniffs and clears his throat. “I’m afraid I’ve made your visit quite bleak and you’ve hardly been here a few minutes. Come.” He stands up and gestures to his kitchen table. “I will show you how to beat Anakin at Sabacc every time.”
Ahsoka grins broadly and follows her Grandmaster.
When the final cards are dealt and the night arrives, Ahsoka sleeps in what used to be Anakin’s bedroom. At least, she tries to sleep. It is hard to do so when a nagging feeling of wrongness sits heavy inside her. She tosses and turns and worries for her Master. She can still feel him at the end of her bond, but that is little comfort to her when the bad feeling refuses to leave her alone.
Ahsoka flips over onto her back and stares at the ceiling Anakin most likely stared at when he had bad feelings like this. She wonders what he would have done. She wonders if he would have woken Obi-Wan or just let him rest. She wonders if Obi-Wan would want to be woken if she had a bad feeling about Anakin.
She wonders if he feels it too.
Unable to let the feeling go, she surrenders from her attempts at sleep and throws the covers from her body.
The journey from Anakin’s former bedroom to Obi-Wan’s current one is not long, but it feels that way in the quiet of the night. It is not long before she once again finds herself hovering in front of Obi-Wan’s door, unsure if she should knock or just enter. She decides on both.
Light from the hallway sweeps through his bedroom, just as clean as everything else in this apartment.
The light falls on Obi-Wan, where he lays silent in his bed. His sheets are strewn and twisted about him as if he has been at war in his dreams. Perhaps he has been.
Ahsoka knows she is often at war in hers.
“Master Kenobi?” she asks quietly.
He does not stir.
Odd, given one of the few things she knows about Obi-Wan is that he is historically a light sleeper.
“Master?” she whispers again. She lightly pushes his shoulder and realizes that maybe her bad feeling is misdirected.
It is not Anakin she should have been worrying about, but Obi-Wan.
Even through his sleep clothes, she can feel the burn of fever radiating from his skin. She turns on a nearby lamp, revealing a crimson flush splashed across his face.
“Master, wake up,” she says more forcefully.
His expression is tight with fear and he whimpers like a newly born Loth pup. Still, he sleeps, lost in his dreams.
Ahsoka presses against his weak shields and can feel terror spilling through. Flashes of scenes from battles long ago lost make their way from Obi-Wan’s mind to hers. She sees the dead as easily as she can feel her helplessness. No. Not her helplessness. Obi-Wan’s.
“Come on,” she says, shaking him harder. “Get up!”
He wakes with a soft gasp. Eyes wide and unnaturally bright, he recoils away from her.
“Shhh, it’s only me, and it was only a nightmare,” Ahsoka soothes.
“Soka?” he slurs. Before Ahsoka can answer, a deep cough tears through his chest and she rushes to help him sit up. He coughs into his hand and gasps for air.
Ahsoka looks to his nightstand where a cup of tea sits half-drunk. It has long since cooled, but she has seen Obi-Wan drink tea at any temperature and right now he needs something to stop the awful coughs from tearing up his throat.
She brings the cup to his lips and he takes slow, careful sips.
When the coughing slows and eventually stops, he tilts his head back and takes deep, labored breaths.
“You’re sick, Master,” Ahsoka observes unhelpfully.
“Idolian Fever,” he croaks, his voice raw. “Must have caught it on my mission.”
Ahsoka knows only a little about Idolian Fever, but she knows it is not too different from any other flu. The symptoms are similar. There is the fever, of course, but also coughing, body aches, nausea, headaches and chills. It is miserable, but it is temporary.
“Go,” Obi-Wan says, pushing on her shoulder, though there is little strength behind it. “Get away from me. Sick. Don’t want you to get sick…”
“I can’t,” Ahsoka murmurs. “It’s a human disease. I can’t catch it from you.”
He looks at her suspiciously. “You’re safe?”
“Yeah, I’m safe,” Ahsoka reassures. “Now let me take care of you.”
“I was supposed to take care of you while… while An’kin’s gone.”
“Let’s just take care of each other then, all right?”
“All right.”
Obi-Wan sinks down deep into his bed and closes his eyes, though Ahsoka can tell he is still awake. He shivers in spite of the several layers of blankets upon him.
She sits at his bedside, stroking his hair and singing softly until his limbs slacken and his breathing becomes more even in its rhythm. The prospect of sitting at his side all night in an uncomfortable chair is unappealing. She looks at the space in the bed and observes his slight shivering and decides he would not mind the extra warmth.
Gently, so not as to wake him, she climbs over him and slides under the covers. His body is a furnace despite its shaking, but Ahsoka never minded the heat.
“Soka?” Obi-Wan asks, though his eyes are still firmly shut.
“Yes, Master?”
“Wake me if I… If I see them again…” Obi-Wan says and Ahsoka knows he is referring to the dead.
“I will,” Ahsoka promises, vowing silently to herself to protect Obi-Wan from his nightmares. For now, she lets the sound of his steady breathing lull her to sleep.