Chapter Text
Surely this would all be fixed by now, be made right as rain, if they had been able to return to Coruscant. The Healers would have fixed the bleeding, the bruises, and whatever else that had happened to his poor brain. He would have left the Halls of Healing with a bounce in his step, even.
As it was, Anakin found himself far in the outer rim on some primitive planet with no way to get back to Coruscant and the Temple there. He was stuck on a pocket of land amongst endless dunes of water expanding to meet the sky on the horizon.
Oh, and his speeder was a tangled mess in the canopy of trees behind him. Its yellow form bright against the green leaves and brown branches, the twisted metal looked like some sort of contemporary art piece he saw in a holo-novel once, having never bothered to visit an art gallery in person. One of the wings was bent at a near ninety-degree angle, the tail was snapped off at the base, and the nose was crumpled like it had been punched in. Parts of the metal were ripped like a herd of rancors had swiped their claws into it.
A sour smell brought his attention back to himself. Anakin, standing on the sandy shore, looked down at his robes and saw vomit in a misshapen blob on his abdomen. He couldn’t help but scrunch his nose in disgust, instinctively, while he wondered how in the galaxy it got there in the first place.
He heard crunches in the sand, footsteps, and spun on his heel. Rather than some jungle beast about to pounce, he met the soft eyes of his friend and master. Anakin’s shoulders slumped in relief, even as his spine tensed at the horror of his vomit being noticed by another person.
Obi-Wan met his gaze, all smiles despite the bleeding cuts on his pale forehead, cheekbone, and lip. “I think it’s safe to say our pursuer presumed us dead in that crash,” he said in a light, even humorous, tone. “I haven’t seen their ship since,” he added. Then, the light in his eyes almost seemed to change and he took a few steps forward. “Anakin, are you alright?” His gaze flicked down. “Oh dear. You did get a bit more jostled than I.”
Before Anakin could explain the vomit away, Obi-Wan was removing his dark belt and brown outer robe. Anakin, in his confusion (about so many things), merely stood there with arms limp and let him. He watched as Obi-Wan took the robe into the water, the waves threatening to crash into the tops of the man’s tall boots, and winced as Obi-Wan used bare hands to rub at the stain.
While he stood there stone-faced watching his master clean his robe like he was a youngling, on the inside Anakin panicked. His head throbbed. He didn’t remember the crash. Kriff it, he didn’t remember the pursuit and whoever their ‘pursuer’ had been. He didn’t know how his master was there, but he pieced together that they must have been flying in his speeder together. How had Obi-Wan come out of the wreck so unscathed, besides a few scratches that a pack of bacta would easily heal? Did they even have bacta?
Obi-Wan trudged out of the water and walked a few paces up the shore. He set the robe on the hot sand and sprinkled some sand on the spot in hopes it would soak up whatever the water hadn’t washed away. If anything, the robe would hopefully smell of saltwater.
Pleased with what little he had been able to do, Obi-Wan turned his attention back to Anakin. He gestured. “Don’t just stand there. Let me get a look at you.” He slowly encircled Anakin, checking his exposed skin for cuts or forming bruises. The worst was the slash at the back of his head.
When Obi-Wan brushed his finger against it as lightly as a feather, it made Anakin cry out loudly and brought tears to his eyes.
“Some of our equipment fell from the ship,” Obi-Wan told him. “I’ll run and check if the medic kit fell.”
Anakin watched him hurry off to do as he said. Slowly, Anakin brought his gloved finger to the head wound and stifled a whimper as the touch of a single fingertip shot a stinging and burning sensation through his whole head. Decidedly done with prodding and poking around, he kept his hands at his sides.
He had a bad taste in his mouth and turned towards the water. It crept over in waves to meet him, lapping at his boots as he took uneven steps away from the shore. He bent over, which sent a wave of nausea that almost made him fall into the waves. He caught himself with an arm and straightened himself out, then took cupped hands into the water and brought it up to his lips. It was warm and salty; he was competent enough to spit it out rather than swallow it. He’d rather his mouth taste like salt than stomach acid.
After a few more handfuls to rinse his mouth out, Anakin turned wearily back towards shore and walked until he sat down on a beached tree limb worn smooth. He turned his head, which hurt to do, and saw Obi-Wan emerge from the brush and trees. Anakin saw he had some things in his hands and took that as a good sign, though he didn’t remember why.
His ears rang ever since he had nearly fallen. That was something Anakin had been used to, as his ears rang at random times but especially at night, and had done so since he could ever remember. This felt different, however. It was so bad that when Obi-Wan talked he could hardly hear him.
“I found a pack and a half of bacta,” Obi-Wan said, holding up two packs, one of them torn and dirtied with soil and leaves. “And your lightsaber,” the man added. He was careful not to scold him; seeing as how bad of a state his apprentice was in, he didn’t think it appropriate to give him the usual lecture. He merely handed him the weapon along with his belt.
Anakin accepted them numbly and set them on the tree limb beside him. He watched as Obi-Wan used the open bacta by smearing some on the cuts on his own face. Anakin admired how the man didn’t even flinch. Then Obi-Wan bit the second pack open and walked up behind him, and Anakin’s fight or flight kicked in.
He jumped up, nearly falling over with lightheadedness, and wheeled around. “Master-!” It was a plea, an embarrassingly desperate one.
Obi-Wan did look sympathetic at least. “Anakin, your head looks awful. It will get infected if we don’t heal it.” The man stepped closer. “I apologize, but I don’t feel up to trying to heal you myself. The fight and crash has worn me down.”
Anakin frowned. What fight? He didn’t feel up to trying to heal it himself, either. The thought of touching his hand over it, in order to use the Force on it, sounded like torture. Reluctantly, he sat back down on the driftwood limb. He swallowed thickly as Obi-Wan came closer to him.
A light touch- There was a scream, and he didn’t realize until it was over that it had been his own. At least his ringing ears had dulled it for him. He probably sounded like a wailing siren to his master, though.
He gasped for air and raised a shaky hand to the wound. It hurt significantly less. “T- Thank you.”
Obi-Wan nodded. “How do you feel now?” He set a hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.
Anakin hesitated. His ears still rang, though less loud. He had a headache, one that he worried would only grow worse with time. “I feel alright,” he lied. “How about you?”
Obi-Wan smiled. It seemed the crash had given him an adrenaline rush. “I feel perfectly fine, just a little tired is all.” And indeed, the cuts on his face were diminishing rapidly already. He walked around the front of him and took a seat beside his belt and lightsaber. They both looked at the sea for a moment. Then, Obi-Wan turned his head to look at his friend. “We have to brainstorm a way out of this place,” he said evenly, “but if it’s all the same to you, I don’t mind spending a night under the stars. The fight can wait.”
What fight? What kriffing fight? Anakin wracked his brain but came up with nothing, almost as if something in his mind had pushed against his probing. So, he simply nodded his head. “That’s fine with me.”
They sat and watched the waves roll in. Now that they were still and silent, they heard the life of the jungle behind them. Birds screeched and cawed, something howled, and another something roared. Insects buzzed and chirped by the jungle’s edge. At the water, a crustacean walked about the edge of the waves with its limbs clicking lightly.
As the sun began to set, Obi-Wan produced two ration bars from his belt pouch and gave Anakin one.
Anakin accepted and ate it more so out of obligation and duty than hunger. Five minutes later, he promptly retched it all up onto the sand.
Obi-Wan was hovering over him in an instant. “Oh Anakin, I’m sorry. I should have known when it happened the first time. I shouldn’t have batted an eye at a head injury like that.”
Anakin thought he should feel relieved that the loth-cat was out of the bag, but he didn’t. How could he possibly tell him that he couldn’t remember such important events and details, never mind the headache and nausea? Anakin stood, stepped over the darkened splotch of sand, and headed to the water again.
Obi-Wan followed him and produced a small device, not unlike their breathers. He handed it to Anakin. “It’ll filter the salt,” he explained.
Anakin gratefully accepted it and used it as he held up handfuls of water to his lips. He took some in to rinse, then more to drink, while the waves constantly crashed against their boots. After Anakin felt better, he turned and the two walked back up the shore.
Anakin grabbed his robe, which had dried quickly under the sun and on the sand. He shook the sand off of it and wrapped it around himself, then headed to the driftwood to grab his belt. He put it on and clipped his lightsaber to it. They then took a seat on the other end of the driftwood piece, away from the dark stained sand and what was left of Anakin’s dinner.
“I wasn’t hungry anyhow,” Anakin said in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“I’m worried. Maybe we need to start now after all,” Obi-Wan responded. “Head injuries are serious, Anakin. I don’t want some irreversible damage to have happened to your brain.”
Anakin thought that his master wasn’t helping by saying scary stuff like that, but he kept the thought to himself. He simply scooted down the limb and laid down on it, his head by his master’s lap. He looked up at the sky, the hues from the sunset receding into the dark of the night. Stars and planets already twinkled and winked at the two Jedi. After a beat, he finally responded. “I’m fine, truly.”
“I’ll build us a fire,” Obi-Wan decided out loud. He rose and wandered off towards the jungle to collect kindling.
Anakin took the somewhat solitary moment to think hard. He tried to recall the most recent memory possible. The first was a month old, one of him talking with the council at the Temple. The next was a bit better, about two weeks ago: a battle on another nameless planet, Jedi and battle droids alike falling down around him. Beyond that- something hazy and red, maybe green- nothing.
Anakin let out a sigh. He turned his head, which didn’t hurt to do as much now, and watched Obi-Wan spark a fire into life on the beach. The flames ate the kindling eagerly and crawled up the wood. Smoke rose steadily into the windless evening.