Chapter Text
Anakin was still reeling: the Sith who had killed Master Qiu Gon, all those years ago, was still alive. The bastard.
He knew Obi-Wan had fought Darth Maul and the Sith's new apprentice (a battle which Anakin would never admit to be impressed by), but he knew nothing beyond that.
He didn't even know what hole Darth Maul had crawled out of.
Or where Obi-Wan had disappeared to after it all.
They'd briefly talked, reuniting after the whole "Darth Maul is back" ordeal was through, and they'd been able to pick him up.
They'd both reported to the Council about the victory over Maul- but also that the Sith and his new apprentice had slipped back into hiding.
Master Windu had not been happy to hear that.
That was less than an hour ago- seemingly Obi-Wan had gone off to do paperwork.
But something didn't feel right. It wasn't new for Obi-Wan to lie to Anakin about being okay and anything else, really -especially for the sake of protecting Anakin (or someone else). But this felt different, somehow.
Something felt. . . off in their bond; something new and almost. . . painful.
He frowned picking up his pace towards Obi-Wan's quarters, his stomach beginning to churn in worry.
He thanked the Force he'd figured out Obi-Wan's passcode just weeks ago, especially as the not-quite-ripple feeling in their bond grew stronger when the door slid open with a quiet hiss.
He walked in quietly, just in case Obi-Wan was simply asleep and having a nightmare (though Anakin doubted Obi-Wan slept much these days), only to be met with what seemed to be a dark, empty room.
The unsettling feeling in their bond grew, though, almost insistent now; Obi-Wan had to be in here.
"Obi-Wan?" Anakin called tentatively, glancing carefully around the room.
He heard a soft, stifled release of breath, and then a huge wave of anxiety rushed through their bond without warning, strong enough to physically knock Anakin back a step.
He clenched his jaw and took a measured breath, stepping forward in defiance.
"Obi-Wan," he called again, firm. "Master, I know you're here."
He paused, somehow mustering a smirk. "You breathe really loud," he tried lamely, when there was no response.
The anxiety clamped down forcefully, hiding again.
Anakin's heart jumped into his throat, and he cursed himself silently.
Glancing around the room again, he finally spotted Obi-Wan, huddled into the furthest corner of the room.
Anakin approached slowly, not wanting to startle him.
He could see how tense Obi-Wan was now, how badly he was trembling, pressing himself into the walls, like he was trying to escape from something.
"Master?" Anakin tried again. "Obi-Wan, what's wrong?"
He didn't answer, just shuddered once, shaking his head as his whole body folded forward like he was trying his best to stifle a cry.
Anakin crept forward, crouching down slowly and placing a gentle hand on Obi-Wan's trembling shoulder.
"Obi-Wan?" he murmured, soft.
This time, Obi-Wan shuddered hard, his breath hitching and choking before a sob is ripping out of him like a spear rips through the carcass of a bantha.
It isn't pretty and, frankly? It's terrifying.
Because Anakin's never seen his master like this: dishevelled and shaking, hands pressed tight against his mouth as wheezing, riving sobs spill out of him.
He isn't even looking at Anakin, he's just staring, eyes wide and round and panicking, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. And Anakin knows what this is, somehow, even though this isn't supposed to happen to Obi-Wan.
He must be dissociating, or having a panic attack, or something. Whatever it is, it's plain he needs help.
So Anakin sits against the wall with Obi-Wan, wraps an arm around him, and tells him to breathe.
By the time Obi-Wan has stopped shaking quite so badly, and he can breathe again, his eyes are puffy and red, and he's clearly exhausted.
But Anakin doesn't miss the way his master winces in discomfort, too, as he settles his head against Anakin's shoulder.
"Obi-Wan," he coaxes, trying and failing to catch the man's gaze. "Are you hurt?"
And because Obi-Wan is too tired to fight him- Anakin begs to assume- he simply nods, shifting to be more comfortable against Anakin's side.
"C'mon," Anakin prompts, nudging him. "Let's get you to Kix; he can take a look at you, okay?"
"No," Obi-Wan mumbled, words slurring a little. "No, 'm fine. I c'n- I jus' need. . . "
He trailed off, slipping off Anakin's shoulder; his whole body went limp, completely and utterly spent.
Anakin startled but managed to catch him, eyes wide with worry, "Obi-Wan?"
Again- alarmingly- there's no reply.
There are two things Obi-Wan quickly becomes aware of when he comes to. One, he has a splitting headache. Two, he absolutely does not want to be awake right now.
So for the first time in years, he ignores the screaming in his head begging to be useful, be useful, be useful-
-turns over, tugs the blanket closer to him, and tries to go back to sleep.
But then Anakin is there, nudging at him again, asking him something. Obi-Wan can only bring himself groans in half-hearted protest, unable to process what Anakin is trying to tell him.
Still, his old padawan is insistent, and soon Obi-Wan is being sat up, a cup pressed to his lips, and he drinks.
Cool, fresh water slides down his throat, and then he's allowed to lay down again, tempted rather convincingly by the ardent charm of sleep.
So sleep he does.
Annoyingly- the next time he wakes, his head is still trying to crack itself open, and his chest creaks almost audibly everytime he breathes in.
His eyes feel hot and sticky when he opens them, only to fall closed again, because Force- he's so tired.
He tries again, and this time manages to pull his eyes open enough to make out Kix and Anakin talking quietly in the corner of what he has to assume is the kriffing infirmary.
He can feel the muted, worry-shadowed tendrils of his former's padawan's presence in the Force. Before he can think through it, he's sending calming, affectionate tendrils into their bond, because that's what good masters should do.
Anakin's reactoin is immediate: he stops mid-sentence, eyes widening as he whips his gaze to Obi-Wan's prone form on the comfortable infirmary cot.
Anakin's worry-tendrils only get stronger as he quickly strides over, taking his hand and asking if Obi-Wan can hear him.
"Of course I can," Obi-Wan croaks, watching as Anakin sighs in relief and Kix noticeably deflates.
He glances over at Kix, confused at the worried expression he finds there.
"Why?" Obi-Wan forces himself to rasp out. "What's happened?" And even though he can barely think through the haze of his swiftly building migraine, he moves to sit up on the cot.
Anakin is quick to stop him, coaxing him back down with a worried-hardened face. That face and those shadowed tendrils in Anakin's Signature worry Obi-Wan, have worried him ever since Anakin was knighted.
"Obi-Wan," Anakin says softly, watching as his master's eyes fell closed, his head lolling to the side in utter exhaustion.
"Hmm?" was the eloquent reply.
Anakin huffed out a laugh (the shadows retreated, just a little bit), pulling the blanket back over him.
"Go to sleep."
The Force, compassionate creature, pulls him down into her blissful darkness.