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Obi Wan woke up to the sound of screaming.
He jerked up out of bed. The sound had already faded, the aftermath ringing in his ears. He wondered if anyone had actually been screaming at all. It might have just been a holdover from one of the nightmares that had become all too frequent since his return from Geonosis.
So many Jedi had travelled there. So many fewer had come back.
Their deaths weighed heavily on him After all, if he had completed his mission there would be no reason for so many Jedi to be caught in Dooku’s trap.
And his Padawan would still…
Yes, the screaming could definitely have just been in his dream.
He lay back. It was possible he could still get some sleep before he was expected in the training gyms in the morning. He tried to settle down, to clear his mind when he hear a quiet sob.
He sat back up. The sound was muffled, but definitely there. Someone was crying.
Obi Wan stood, pulling on his robe before making his way out into the living area of his shared quarters.
The crying was coming from the fresher. It was a pained sound, distress and shame were beginning to leak along with the bond.
Anakin's shields were getting leaky. Obi Wan sped up. He rarely got any feedback from his Padawan anymore, Anakin had shut him out. If he was receiving this sort of feedback, something must be very seriously wrong.
He entered the room.
Anakin was sitting on the floor, knees folded up against his chest. He flinched away at the sound of the door opening.
“M’srry Master, did I wake you up?”
“Don’t worry about that Anakin, what's the matter?”
“Nothing Master.”
Obi Wan raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Anakin broke eye contact before flinching, hunching his arm closer into his body.
“It’s stupid,” Anakin said through gritted teeth.
“It can’t be that stupid if it is causing you pain Padawan.”
Anakin grimaced. “My arm. It has an itch.”
Obi Wan frowned confused.
Anakin sighed, before his face contorted in pain.
“My arm, that arm. It’s itching. And I can’t itch it. There isn’t an arm.”
A tear trailed down his cheek. “It hurts Master. How can it hurt when it's not there?”
“Oh, Padawan…”
Obi Wan knelt down next to him and gathered Anakin into his arms.
He expected him to recall, to withdraw away from his offer of comfort in the way he had become used to in the latter years of their partnership, but Anakin didn’t. He leant into the embrace before letting out a sob.
“What am I going to do Master. How can a Jedi only have one arm?”
“We’ll work it out Anakin. We can work with your prosthetic, however long it takes. We will work it out. I swear.”
Anakin nodded before flinching, another pained moan leaving his mouth.
“But how can I do it, Master. When only an itch reduces me to this?”
Obi Wan closed his eyes, trying to suppress his guilt. This was about Anakin, he couldn’t make it about himself.
“Phantom pains fade in time, we can visit the halls of healing tomorrow. See if they can do anything extra for you.
Anakin gave him a weak smile. “I must look, bad Master, for you to willingly offer to go see Master Che.”
Obi Wan grimaced. “There are few things that make me want to subject myself to Vokara Che, but your well being is one of them Padawan.”
Anakin looked as vulnerable as Obi Wan remembered him. It had been before he had become a teenager that Anakin had sort this sort of comfort from him.
What did that say about Obi Wan he thought, that it had taken his Padawan losing a limb for him to reach out to him for emotional comfort.
Never mind that the fact that he’d lost his arm was Obi Wans fault. He never should have left Anakin in the position that he was duelling a fallen Jedi Master alone. If he had been stronger, if he had been better the responsibility would never have fallen upon his Padawan. And his Padawan would still have both his arms.
Obi Wan tightened his grip on Anakin. He could self recriminate later. Now was not the time for his guilt. Anakin needed his help, needed his support. Obi Wan could hate himself later when his Padawan no longer needed him and decided to leave him. After all, Obi Wan deserved nothing better.