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Chapter Text

The echoes of battle surrounded Anakin.

Once streaks of colours signifying fatality now danced across his vision in an intricate dance; he was mesmerised.

The heavy thump of each beat of his heart forced more air out of his lungs. He should be panicked, fighting to get up, but Anakin was tired. Tired of this war. Tired of the anguish that came with it. Tired of those he loved leaving him.

First it was Qui-gon, a beacon of hope, only to be extinguished as Anakin celebrated his victory. Next was his Mother, Shmi’s last words not even having the privilege to leave her cracked lips. Not even in death could she be Free with her son. Next was Obi-wan, once Anakin’s rock only now to be the quakes crumpling his very foundations of trust to dust. Finally was Ahsoka. His light and his pride gone with the setting sun.

He was drowning, not even the strength to kick his feet for a sliver of air. If Ahsoka had been here she would’ve covered him. So used to his firecracker dodging and blocking the rapid fire of the enemy in a whirlwind of green at his flank he had not considered to watch himself in her absence.

Perhaps this was for the best.

As Anakin lay in the sinking ground of whatever boggy hell they were stationed on his blue eyes drifting to the atmosphere he couldn’t help but be glad for the rest. Despite the air becoming thinner and his limbs progressively getting more numb Anakin was content and calm for the first time in a very long time. The world grew still, the familiar sounds of war fading away, Anakin exhaled. Floating to the stars beyond he finally felt Fr-

Agony.

A stream of liquid fire pulled at his body until he was shocked back to reality. Choking out a scream of pain he panted and squirmed, trying to escape the flames licking at his abdomen, making quick work of touching every inch of his body.

Still slightly muffled he thought he heard an urgent voice, words not discernible but its panic was obvious.

He cried out once more as more pressure made the fire rear its head and dig deeper. Tears snaked their way down his cheeks, frantic gasps were all he could hear as his heart pounded against his ribcage. Try as he may to escape he was held still by his failing body and the fire. Moans of pain continued to escape him but the world began to sharpen slightly.

The blaster fire was slowing, the ground no longer shook from artillery fire but the frantic voices became clearer.

“Where is med evac?”

“-losing too much blood.”

“Hand me more gauze.”

“Sir can you hear me?”

“-access gained.”

“General I need you to talk to me.”

That he understood. Maybe they could help him extinguish the fire.

“Fire.”

He managed to choke out as he continued to squirm. Hands grabbed at his limbs as he successfully pulled an arm free to swipe at the flames licking his chest.

“General I need you to hold still, we’re just trying to help.”

He arched his head back, sinking slightly into the damp moss underneath him. Why wouldn’t they help him? Trying to pull out of the tight grips he cried out in frustration and pain.

“General please work with us here, can you open your eyes?”

With all his might he continued to shift but as time dragged on he gained no ground. Out of pure spite to curse off his adversaries he opened his eyes only to lock on to Rex. Oh.

He knelt by the downed General’s head, holding him steady as he continued to shift as the 501st medics worked to stabilise him.

Blood continued to pour out of the large gash across Anakin’s stomach, threatening to spill out more than just blood. Anakin’s eyes were frantic, glazed over from the onslaught of pain.

Rex had been the one to notice the lack of General on the field. Upon a quick search as the battle slowed down he saw the silhouette of his General behind a Seppie assault vehicle, a sea of commando droids surrounding him. The source of the injury was not hard to guess and unfortunately the lack of stubbornness to continue fighting was not lost on the captain.

They all felt the loss of their Commander, Rex keenly so, but Anakin was her Master. They fought like siblings, bantered like age old friends and loved like father and daughter. Her loss had withered his spirit and without the trust in his Master the clones at witnessed him slowly crack at the seems, lost on what to do when he separated himself and became even more reckless than the Hero with No Fear was known for.

Anakin finally managed to recognise Rex, his movements slowed minutely and the medics were quick to resume their work. Rex stayed put, resting a hand on the General’s shoulder, leaving a bloody handprint in his wake, as he panted against the agony he was surely in.

Anakin went to speak once more but a hypo straight in the neck cut it into a hiss of surprise as Kix drew back and with no acknowledgement to the captain went back to administering the other rescue meds he had on hand. Time was short and if this med evac didn’t hurry they’d have a lot more problems.

Anakin’s eyes began drooping but he valiantly fought to keep them open.

“Rex?”

He croaked as his eyes dropped once more. Rex couldn’t help a bitter smile working its way onto his face. He squeezed Anakin’s shoulder and said in a soft but firm voice,

“Easy Sir. You’re alright, we’ve got you.”

And as his General’s eyes drifted closed and remained he stayed. His General wasn’t alone, as much as he may think he is.

Chapter Text

Obi-wan would regard himself as a good Jedi.

He held their teachings close to his heart, remaining a steadfast and passive figure when necessary and a fierce warrior when required. He prided himself in being level-headed when needed but in this moment as he watched his former Padawan shake uncontrollably, breaths absent if not strained when he managed to suck one in, Obi-wan was anything but the Jedi he tried to personify.

If there was one person who could sneak past his defences it was Anakin.

Obi-wan had managed to drag Anakin’s limb body into a secluded room in the Separatist base just before he lost all control and fell into a seizure.

Like any mission between the two, the once considered ‘easy’ task handed to them had taken a dark turn. Meant to gather intel through data chips and destroy the rest of the base, the duo had been caught by Magna guards, a telling that Dooku was here or had been in the last couple hours before they had arrived.

Seemingly expecting their arrival the two fought back to back, synchronising unlike any other Jedi. They knew each other's weak points, knew when one would strike and they should follow. It was an intricate dance they had come to master as Master and Padawan and now friends.

Unlike other times the sheer number of droids and electrostaffs was overwhelming and when Obi-wan had fallen for a brief second, Anakin had launched himself in a series of striking attacks and force manipulation that had destroyed majority of their opponents only to disregard a ‘fallen’ droid who had stepped forward before Obi-wan could stop them and stabbed Anakin in the back with its staff making the Jedi Knight fall to the floor in a flood of electricity.

Obi-wan made quick work of the droids and the rest of its comrades before dragging Anakin away from the scene when he did not move to get up.

Now he was locked in an agonising twist of limbs and arching back, teeth clenched tight enough Obi-wan worried they would shatter.

Obi-wan had already called backup and an immediate med evac but the clones would need to secure the base before Anakin would receive the help he desperately needed. Kix was still on the line, waiting out the seizure, both clone and general kept the timing but as the minutes crept by unfamiliar panic snaked its way under Obi-wan’s skin.

“How’s he looking General?”

Kix said in a firm voice, his own frustrations of not being with his general leaking into his urgent tone. Obi-wan, crouched at a slight distance to avoid the flaying limbs, responded immediately as his eyes had been locked on his former padawan during the entire event.

“No signs of stopping. He’s not breathing nearly enough to sustain him Kix.”

Obi-wan’s heart jumped. This could be it.

He knew the punishments of war all too well, having lost friends already to the fight but Anakin? If Obi-wan was to think realistically Anakin had as much chance as any other Jedi to join the Force during this forsaking war but part of him couldn’t believe it.

The fire and light that was his former padawan shone almost so bright it burned to look at. Having shared a bond with him since Anakin was only 9 years old, freshly brought to the Temple under his protection, Obi-wan had became accustomed to the burn of his padawans presence. He couldn’t die, his passion and fight were far to strong to fall to such a thing.

Obi-wan knew Anakin had been under strain for quite some time, Obi-wan could feel it himself. Unfortunately Anakin had also inherited Obi-wan's aversion to help. There was a high likelihood Anakin was suffering from other injuries and had not said anything, it would explain his current position as uncontrollable grunts of strain escaped as his body instinctively fought for breath. If that was the case then Anakin’s chances were dimming as much as his presence was.

It made Obi-wan feel sick.

He felt anger, frustration, desperation. All emotions frowned upon by the Jedi but Obi-wan was petrified of losing his padawan.

Kix continued talking, urgent calls to Rex bleeding through their communication as he urged them to hurry or they would have no general to retrieve. Obi-wan remained focused on Anakin, infuriated that he could do nothing more than keep him on his side and watch.

With no medical supplies or rescue meds Anakin would need to fight himself, though his awareness of the danger he was in was shrouded in the black of unconsciousness.

A hue of blue was slowly ebbing into Anakin's features, his lips pulled back but showing the severity of his oxygen deprivation.

His presence faltered even more and in a moment of desperation Obi-wan bundled his former padawans flaying form towards him and rested his head on his knees. Gaining control Obi-wan placed two gentle but firm fingers to Anakin's temple and sunk deep in the Force.

He avoided currents of electricity that was coursing through the man's body as he manoeuvred over the faulting shields of Anakin's mind to find the epicentre of his consciousness or lack there of. He called out to Anakin.

In the background he could make out the muffled calls of Kix reporting their movement to their position. Obi-wan, now watching the flickering light of Anakin's Force presence, ignored the continued calls to place himself against Anakin.

It burned.

The pain ricocheted from his fingers to his own body but Obi-wan grit his teeth and held on calling for Anakin with all his might. Instinct kicked in and Obi-wan's body jerked as it attempted to release the source of pain but he held strong.

Calling again, desperation crawling into his tone, Obi-wan begged Anakin to follow his voice,

"Anakin I need you to fight. Release this pain, focus on me. Please."

Like a prayer Obi-wan continued until finally he felt a flicker of recognition. Obi-wan urged on, continuing to poke and prod at Anakin's consciousness until he felt a weak but insistent push as his padawan instinctually pushed Obi-wan away from his mind.

Rejoining reality Obi-wan stared down at Anakin whose shaking finally began stalling.

Breathing a sigh of relief Obi-wan held Anakin's cheek with one and rubbed his chest with another trying to stimulate his breathing once more.

What may have only been seconds but felt like an eternity the shaking stopped and Anakin heaved in a large gasp of breath, immediately following with another and choking on it. Obi-wan felt like he would collapse with relief. He shushed his young charge, continuing to rub his chest and utter words of encouragement.

"Keep breathing dear one. You're doing great."

Anakin, though not fully conscious, followed suit and the blue colouring ebed away and was replaced by pale clammy skin. Obi-wan took his small victory.

He continued talking to the unconscious Jedi Knight even as the medics burst into the room and immediately began their interventions.

Obi-wan quietly thanked the Force as he stepped away and once more reached out to Anakin through their bond. Projecting feelings of calmsafetyhealing Obi-wan felt a small nudge of acknowledgement and questioning.

A sigh of relief escaped Obi-wan one more as he watched the medics slip Anakin onto a stretcher, oxygen mask now fogging with regular breaths.

He would be okay today but Obi-wan prayed that would last well past the end of this war, for the better of them both.

Chapter Text

The buzz of caff and pure spite was probably the only thing keeping Anakin standing.

After a long couple weeks down on the front with a bitter victory it was now time for his least favourite part, paperwork. But if there was one thing it did provide Anakin it was a distraction.

There had been too many losses as it seemed to be the usual at this time in the war. Anakin had been witness to the clones, lost in their duties, pushing aside their mourning to continue the battle. Sometimes they didn’t even have the time to bury their brothers. It made Anakin feel sick to the stomach, but that could be the exhaustion and minor starvation he had become accustomed to talking.

They had all become closed off, primary goal being to finish this battle and go home. The Council had followed through with their promise and the 501st were set for shore leave. For how long he didn’t know but Anakin would make sure his men would be able to rest.

Upon returning to the ship, armour and robes caked with sweat, dirt and blood he had ordered a minimal clean up in order for much needed respite. Ahsoka had been banned to her quarters immediately. The vibrant blue of her lekku had been dimming with time and Anakin would be damned if she was to stay on her feet any longer. She had put up a fight, as expected, it calmed Anakin to know she was still his Snips but she had given up far quicker than normal. Sending Rex as her escort with his own orders to rest. He now felt the steady presence of a sleeping Padawan and could only hope his captain would follow orders. Only the nat borns piloted the ship, the rest sent away once they entered hyperspace. Only Anakin sat in the frankly offensively bright lights of their mess hall for easy access to said caff that was forcing his eyes open.

There may have been more reason for Anakin to remain standing. Nightmares were frequent for the Jedi Knight on a good day, but after weeks of constant fighting and death he couldn’t find it in himself to allow his mind to remind him of the scenes he had witnessed. At the ripe age of 21 years old Anakin had seen enough to know he would never sleep peacefully again and in order to get these reports done he needed a clear head. Counterproductive? Perhaps but Anakin knew his mind and knew that sleep would only make it worse, at least that’s what he tried to convince himself.

Only a few clones and nat borns had passed him in his work. Other than a simple salute and “General” they had left him alone, knowing what their General was like after such a loss.

Being in such a public space was a risk but he knew the medics were tied up with the wounded, he’d gone for a visit to gather the numbers for his report and offer the help he could before Coric shooed him away claiming, “You’ll end up in here yourself if you keep up with that”, whatever that meant. Kix had already cornered his General after the battle, scanning him without a word and ordering rest but what Kix didn’t know was for the better.

The words on the datapad made little sense to Anakin now but he was only halfway through his recounting on what had happened. Normally he had Ahsoka and/or Rex with him to fill in the gaps if there were any. Anakin felt capable enough, his mind wouldn't let him forget what had occurred on the ground, but for the life of him he couldn’t translate the scarring images onto the page.

His body felt weighed down and his abnormally high heart rate didn’t do much for him other than build his ever present headache in partnership with the horrific lighting. Rubbing his eyes until he saw stars Anakin forced himself up and made his way to the caff machine once more. He couldn’t remember how many cups he had had but luckily the droids cleaning the room made quick work with so little bodies occupying the space.

Anakin watched the dark liquid fill the cup much too slow for his liking, the room felt slightly wavy as he forced himself to stand still as he fought the urge to kneel over. Once finished he dragged the lukewarm fluid in a steady stream down his throat and immediately went to fill the cup again. Ignoring the slight buzzing in his brain and the shakiness of his limbs he could feel his eye bed twitching with fatigue.

Not enough.

Placing the cup down once more he went to press the button to force more liquid energy into his failing body when a swift gloved hand switched the machine off. Whipping his head up in offence, causing the room to tilt dangerously right, Anakin grasped for support when he was caught by his offender, Rex. Once his eyes had cleared and the room was only slightly lopsided Anakin frowned at his Captain.

“Rex. You should be asleep.”

Rex didn’t budge, still holding onto his General he raised an eyebrow much too slow to not be for theatrical intent.

“I don’t think you’re one to talk General.”

Anakin scoffed in offence and turned back to machine only to hear the click of the plug being disconnected and seeing Fives swinging the cable mockingly behind the counter. He knew to stay away from Anakin.

Anakin glared. His brain couldn’t respond quick enough to come up with a witty response.

“General, no offence, but you look like a Hutt after a weekend bender.”

Anakin blinked in shock, feeling quite offended by the statement.

“Rude.”

Was the only response he could articulately respond with. Fives grinned slyly at him and before he could catch up Rex forced his General to turn away from the caff machine and mischievous ARC trooper only to lock eyes with his medic.

“Oh kriff.”

Kix didn’t even dignify him with a response before he nodded to Rex who began pulling his General away from the mess hall. Anakin only had the energy to follow, dragging his feet in protest.

“I’m almost finished. I was getting my last cup anyway.”

He grumbled as they turned towards his quarters, the medbay was likely over capacity and with his captain, medic and ARC trooper watching his every move he knew he wouldn’t escape this time.

Kix sighed dramatically in front, not turning as he said,

“I think that was more than enough Sir.”

The prospect of sleep still incited fear but with company Anakin at least knew he was in safe hands for the moment. His only job now was to convince Kix not to sedate him.

Chapter Text

Anakin couldn’t say he had gone hand to hand with a droid before.

Used to being close enough to strike his lightsaber through their metal casing, he had never felt the need to ball his metallic fist and attempt to dent the metal. In cases where he was particularly frustrated the urge may have appeared but was satisfied enough watching his azure blade make quick work of his enemy.

Now he was in a pickle, lightsaber lost (again) and not a blaster in sight he had been forced to engage in an aggressive exchange with a super battle droid who’s circular face remained blank as it swung at the Jedi’s head. Anakin expertly dodged the fist, using his momentum to slide underneath the droid and land a kick at its back. It stumbled, righting itself soon enough to slide out of the way of Anakin’s metallic fist.

This would be finished a lot sooner if Anakin knew its weak points and even quicker if the beskar bracelet had not been secured to his wrist.

Being captured was embarrassing enough, to bounty hunters even more so. Their access to Force suppressors was concerning and he knew once he was back on friendly soil that he would need to investigate further. While taking away what they believed to be his only weapons to fight back, Anakin had been with the Jedi and clones long enough to perfect his hand to hand. The bounty hunters had fought hard, evident by the red staining his hairline and quickly forming bruises across his body. In time they each fell.

In his escape the first wave of Separatists had arrived to collect their prisoner only to come face to face with an extremely frustrated Jedi Knight as he went in search of the comms and key for the bracelet.

Without the Force Anakin felt lost. Each hallway looked the same and with some careful intuition he had avoided turning back on himself but even his mental map of the facility hadn’t assisted him quick enough to avoid the droids. In his wake was scrap metal once meant to be war machines and he prayed to the Force that this was his last opponent.

His limbs were growing heavier, the pounding of his head echoed against his skull and on multiple occasions the room had tipped dangerously to the side, not to mention his non-existent breakfast was threatening to make a grand appearance. The quicker he was done the sooner he could return to the Resolute and sulk.

The droid seemed to identify his slowing and in a flash of metal was on top of Anakin, knocking him off his feet with a groan and connecting heavily with his ribs. The air shot out of Anakin and in his distorted state he managed to roll out of the way before a foot collided with the floor where his head had rested.

He didn’t know what the Separatists would want out of him this time but he was sure his death wouldn’t serve any purpose but remove yet another Jedi from the field. Without time to delve into the anguish the Order was falling into, Anakin was forced back onto his feet as he continued to evade the droid's attacks.

Dodge, punch, dodge, dodge, kick, slide away, breathe, dodge, attempt to punch, evade. The normal elegance of a Jedi ran further and further away from Anakin as his reflexes struggled to keep up with the onslaught of attacks.

His breathing stuttered and as the droid lunged at him once more his vision swam and he quickly found his feet slipping under him, taking a mouthful of the floor. Before he could rise again the droid grabbed his hair, yanking a yelp out of him when he was pulled up onto his knees. He squirmed, using the last of his strength to rip himself out of its grip but a hard knock to his head sent his vision spiralling and his only focus was drawing in shallow breaths through most likely broken ribs.

His arms laid heavy at his sides, each pound of his skull sending ricochets of pain and distortion through him. He couldn’t make sense of his surroundings even as pings of blaster fire filled the space and he became aware that he was back on the floor. Hands grabbed at his limbs, turning him over.

His eyes shot open, already fighting back against their hold. He managed to catch a glimpse of auburn hair and distant blue armour before his stomach protested stronger than ever and the floodgates of nausea opened as he leant himself over heaving out bile and spit. His eyes stayed firmly closed, his heart beat drowning out any other noise until he was gently laid on a minutely comfier surface as the dry heaving stopped and his desperate panting was the only thing left. At least he knew he was safe, unless his broken mind was playing tricks on him, though he lacked the strength to check once more especially with his stomach still rolling.

His wrist was taken in a firm grasp, turned over as the bracelet was investigated and laid down once more. He didn’t think he could muster the strength to protect his mind from the overstimulation that could be the Force and his saviors seemed to think similarly as his medical triage was continued. As he was poked and prodded a gentle hand tapped his cheek.

Swallowing carefully Anakin squinted his eyes to make out his Master who wore his professional mask, but Anakin could see the concern swimming underneath. His Master’s mouth moved but his senses still struggled to right themselves, a persistent ringing filling the space. Obi-wan frowned and concern bled through as he looked up and spoke to someone.

Anakin went to close his eyes when his shoulder was squeezed tightly and a moan of protest slipped out. Opening his eyes again he was assaulted almost immediately with a bright light. He choked out what must have sounded like a sob when the pain increased tenfold and he leant away once more to dry heave. Hands pulled him back and his hair was gently pulled away from his forehead, an act of comfort and more than lightly a chance to see the wound that was very likely bleeding heavily.

Pressure was placed on the wound, Anakin tensed in response and valiantly opened his eyes just to glare at his Master who smiled slightly in apology. The ringing was becoming less persistent and as he caught sight of movement beside him as the clones prepared his transport out the facility his Master’s voice slipped through,

“Stay awake dear one. We’ll get you sorted.”

Anakin knew his sentence from his overly persistent medic would be torture but he wouldn’t mind the rest, especially with Obi-wan keeping him company that he would most definitely insist on.

Chapter Text

Anakin loved the water.

It was an evermoving current that both held life and gave life.

On Tatooine water was not a right but a privilege. The meagre credits his Mother was given by Watto was for their water. He did not want his products dying. He recalls his walk to the water tanks, weaving between his people and the Depur. Head down and credits clutched in his small calloused hands as his life depended on it. The twin suns beat down on the cracked skin of his back, blood still drying from his never ending reminders from Watto to who he was and what he was worth. The sand seemed to coat his throat as it weaved into every crevice of his person. Once retrieved, brief words exchanged between the merchant and the slave, he quickly but carefully carried his treasure home until his Mother and himself sat in their small quarters sharing drops of the liquid gold that would sustain them for the next standard week.

On Naboo in the wake of Qui-gon’s death it had rained. Anakin had never witnessed such a phenomenon. He had hesitated at first, numbers rolling through his head as each drip slid off the balcony into a small puddle. He had counted his yearly earnings before Obi-wan had urged him inside so he wouldn’t get wet. It was the first time Anakin ignored orders. He had stepped out, each individual droplet reviving his broken spirit until he felt whole. His laughter had carried across the palace as he rolled in the gift the Force had given him. He had thought of his Mother and asked the Gods of Old that she would feel the rain one day. The week of sneezing and coughing was worth it.

As time went on Anakin came to know the very currents that gave him so much joy did not just give life but took it as well.

On a diplomatic mission to a small and insignificant planet with a fresh Padawan haircut and standard Jedi issue ropes Anakin witnessed someone drown. A youngling trying to retrieve their toy had fallen, fighting the waves to stay afloat, too young to overpower the currents that sucked them under. Obi-wan had jumped in, cloak and all, pulling the small child out of the rough onto land. Anakin remembers the splat of the water as it was forced out of their small lungs. It was the first time he learned to fear water.

Obi-wan had taught him how to swim of course, his patience was a blessing at that time. Anakin wouldn’t call himself a strong swimmer but he could manage if he was fully clothed.

Today that was not the case.

Anakin was encased in a prison of darkness. Pressure from all sides squeezed at him, forcing his precious bubbles of air out into the void.

He pushed and kicked with all his might, veins popping as he fought against the currents holding him below. His lungs urged him to take a breath as his eyes bulged out of his head, salt water coating them in needles of pain. No matter the struggle he was making no progress.

The initial hit from behind had been a surprise, the Force giving no inclination of the Politician’s true motive. He’d fallen with no air and now had no source to save him.

The darkness was everywhere, his surroundings and within his body.

His arms slowed, his legs forgotten in the struggle. With no fight his body gave into its urges, sucking in the water. His chest stuttered as it was filled to the brim, all space occupied.

He drifted further into the abyss.

What a way to die, he thought. The desert boy to drown in the very form he had wished for since the day he could think.

Further and further down.

On the edge of consciousness Anakin felt a firm embrace.

He began to rise at an impressive speed. His ears still popped as the pressure change shifted and air hit his face. He couldn’t draw in a breath, trickles of water slipping from his blue lips as the overflow finally managed to escape.

He felt himself being dragged to the shore, more hands grasping his body and pulling him away from the culprit of his current state. Urgent voices surrounded him.

“Master!”

“He’s not breathing.”

“I’ve got a pulse!”

"Don't you dare die on me."

The final voice was inches from his ear, a mix of dread and anger concealed the normally poised and elegant Coruscanti accent.

He was roughly turned onto his side, rough thumps could be felt through his entire body, trying to force the water out from his lungs. He tried to help with the little control he still had, minutely tensing his abdomen so the muscles would assist squeezing it out.

Seconds passed and he felt no give. The darkness was still too close, he felt suffocated by his own stomach and lungs as the water refused to budge.

Actions becoming more aggressive as panic took control Obi-wan hoisted his limp form up into a sitting position.

The change of gravity paired with the movement of water caused him to cough, water began spilling out at an alarming rate as he finally was brought back to reality.

Everything was tensed and no control was felt as he expelled every drop he could. Now back on his side, a puddle quickly forming, Anakin managed to get small gasps of air into his deprived lungs between the intense heaving. He could feel a hand gently rubbing his back, words of comfort and courage spoken to him in quiet whispers of relief.

When nothing more came out Anakin forced himself to swallow, fighting the urges to continue manically inhaling oxygen now available to him. Obi-wan didn’t move but new hands were on him, strapping an oxygen mask to his face and a probe to his finger.

He felt himself relax, cool clinical air soothing his aching chest.

Obi-wan continued his soothings over he presumed his medics clipped reports,

“That’s it dear one, keep breathing. You’re doing amazing.”

He glowed quietly at the praise as he opened his eyes.

Indeed Kix was in front of him, already establishing IV access and pushing meds into his body, shivers already beginning to rack his form.

Kix caught his eye and he heard a scoff of relief from behind the helmet,

“Always keeping us on our toes aren’t you General.”

Anakin offered him a small smile in return, Kix gently but quickly patted his hand in response.

“Just keep breathing General, med evac is just arriving. We’ll get you sorted.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his Master, Ahsoka stood close behind with Rex in a protective stance at her shoulder.

He would be alright with them at his side, and he silently thanked the Force he wouldn’t be forced to write the report about this particular incident.

Chapter Text

Anakin’s nose was bleeding.

Again.

For the young fourteen year old who was desperately trying to stem the flow of blood this was not the first, second or even third time this had occurred.

His nose beat with the same rhythm of his accelerated heart, the one that was plagued with anger and shame.

His Master had warned him to not let this happen again. He’d even promised Obi-wan that he wouldn’t do it again. Another failure to add to his seemingly endless list.

Since his entry into the Jedi Order, Anakin felt a wall between himself and the other Jedi. He wasn’t temple born or brought in at the right age bracket. He knew anger, fear and love like he knew how to speak and that was something the Jedi looked down upon.

He’d tried to make friends at the start.

He would show his skill in mechanics but their noses would turn at the scraps he used. He tried sharing his stories of the desert but when his classmates began to cry he knew he had to stop. He even tried offering to do their language homework. It took time for him to hit the baseline of academics the Padawans were expected to hit but Basic being his third language made those studies easier. However, they seemed insulted rather than grateful when he offered his help.

So he distanced himself.

He sat at the back of all the classes, kept his head down until the Masters would call on him. He tried his best to answer but he never could get the answers right and when he did his overloaded brain went too far, into too much detail. His fellow Padawans would glare and mutter about the “goody two shoes” and “teachers pet”. Even the Masters who would nod in acknowledgement of his answer, would repeat a toned down version innocently but Anakin could sense the exaggeration in their force presence.

So he stopped listening all together.

The Masters would get angry but he could just run away after class.

His Master was frustrated at first but after repeatedly trying to get through to Anakin he simply sent him to meditate or took his tools away. Anakin could live with that over the humiliation his classmates seemed to be determined to put on him.

No matter how hard he tried to disappear into the shadows they always found him and his flaws.

They rarely called him by his name. They called him “The Slave” or “Desert Boy”, even “Scraps” had become popular among a few of them. In the times they did call him by his name they somehow made Skywalker seem like an insult.

Rumours continuously circled about his upbringing. Some said he was the garbage boy for the Hutts, others said he was a thief for Bounty Hunters and some even went as far as saying he served customers.

It was no wonder he could never control his anger, at least that’s what Anakin told himself.

Fights had been part of his life since he could walk and the Padawan’s who dared say things in front of him got the strike of his fist.

He had tried to ignore it all like the Masters wanted him to but when someone insulted his mere existence the docile sun dragon within him would rear its head leaving a path of violence and pain in its wake.

He was excluded from lessons, banned from missions and confined to his room too often. He could see it in the Master's eyes, they were going to get rid of him soon.

He tried to plead his case time and time again but they wouldn’t listen.They said it was unbecoming of a Jedi to fall victim to their emotions, let alone use them as an excuse.

They called him dangerous and a disappointment to the Jedi Order. Perhaps they didn’t say that to him directly but Obi-wan was not good at being quiet when he asked for advice dead in the night after they argued.

Anakin could see the strain he put on his Master and he hated it. He didn’t want to disappoint Obi-wan, he was like a father to him. His entire life he had to impress his Depur and while he may be Free, habits die hard.

That led him to where he stood frozen in his quarters, his Master standing in the sitting area, a thick smog of disapproval surrounding him.

Obi-wan was the perfect Jedi, but even they cracked under the weight of their failing Padawan.

Anakin didn’t move. His robe was still clutched to his nose, the blood drying and becoming crusted under his hold.

Neither moved for a few seconds. Anakin’s stomach was an endless pit of dread.

This was it, he thought, I’m out of the Order for good now.

“Padawan.”

Obi-wan’s voice was steel but emotionless. His eyes were glued to Anakin’s own who refused to break eye contact.

As much as he knew what he did was wrong, he still felt justified, even a bit satisfied that he walked while the other Padawan laid sprawled on the training mat.

When Anakin didn’t speak up Obi-wan continued,

“Care to explain why Master Luminara has commed me yet again about your aggressive behaviour?”

Anakin felt like a cornered Loth Cat.

He knew this was a losing battle but if the swirl of anger in his gut was anything to go by, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“I’m sure she’s explained what happened already Master.”

His voice came out slightly nasally but there was no humour in Obi-wan’s eyes. Instead they hardened and his Master’s shields seemed to shake slightly.

“This is no time for games Padawan. You picked a fight again.”

“I didn’t pick a fight."

Anakin bit back.

He dropped the cloak, letting it fall to the floor and displayed his purple and bloody nose.

“He started it.”

There was no understanding in his Master’s eyes.

“No matter who started it, you engaged and injured a classmate. That is and will always be unacceptable.”

Anakin’s jaw clenched.

His anger was growing too quick for him to grasp. The sun dragon beat within his skull, screeches of anger echoing in its prison.

His Master clearly knew what had happened and if he cared for his Padawan at all he would know that Kian had been harassing him all lesson. Calling him names and poking every possible spot he could to get Anakin to react. By some miracle Anakin had managed to ignore it. He loved lightsaber training and didn’t want to be kicked out.

Kian had always been jealous. He was two years older than Anakin and had two left feet. Anakin always outshone him and he clearly didn’t like that.

It wasn’t until they were facing each other, intending to spar and Kian had insulted Anakin’s Mother that the world had faded to red and the next moment they were rolling on the floor, lightsabers discarded, with Anakin finishing on top before Master Luminara had forced them apart.

He hadn’t stayed long before he was sent to his quarters until he would be called to the Council Chambers with Kian who needed to be cleaned up.

“It does matter. I’m not an animal Master. He insulted me and my Mother. Was I supposed to turn the other cheek? Accept his words and ‘release them into the Force’.”

His voice was growing in volume, face reddening with rage.

All he needed was his Master to understand and he seemed to refuse it time and time again.

In this moment he could either cry or break something and he’d rather it be a tea cup than himself.

“You know our teachings. It was wrong of Kian to bring up your Mother but attachments are forbidden. They cloud your vision, distort your ability to think passively. You agreed to this the moment you became my Padawan. Anger and attachment lead to the Dark-”

“Oh don’t lecture me Master I’m well aware of what the Jedi expect.”

Anakin interrupted, his voice becoming shrill and louder as the dragon slammed its husk into his skull.

Sickening satisfaction tainted his heart as Obi-wan’s face began reddening, a clear sign of his own anger.

“Do not interrupt me Padawan. You are in the wrong and you know it.”

Anakin felt like he could explode.

They had had this argument time and time again. It always ended the same.

Anakin would scream his voice raw, Obi-wan would remain steady but the veins on his temple would protrude and remain for hours after Anakin stormed off.

He was sick of it.

Sick of the other padawans.

Sick of the Jedi.

Sick of his Master.

Sick of his past that ruined every aspect of his training.

Sick of not being enough.

He resented Qui-gon for finding him.

He resented his Mother birthing him.

He resented the Force for choosing him, for not saving him.

The sun dragon glowed a dangerous red, inky black reflexing off its scales. He wanted to release it, watch it stain the carpet a bloody red. He wanted to watch the black coat his own skin, sink into his veins.

Sometimes he wanted to show it to Obi-wan and the Council. Watch their faces fall in shock as his full power was shown. He wanted them to see the dragon, feel its flames.

He wanted them to feel the pain, feel the excision it took to hold it back.

He wanted his Master to understand what it was like to be Anakin Skywalker for one moment.

Blue on blue, eyes still locked in a battle of wills, Anakin swallowed back his scream and said in an unsettlingly level voice,

“Okay then Master.”

Taken back Obi-wan took a moment to compose himself but Anakin jumped in first,

“I am wrong. There happy? I shouldn’t have punched him or kicked him. I should have smiled at him and said, ‘You’re right Kian, my Mother is a slave rat.’”

The words tasted bitter even as he recited them.

The dragon still fought but it slowed, a sly glee inching onto its expression as Obi-wan twitched in return.

“She deserves everything that comes to her. Her only luck in life was that she got rid of me. The pitiful slave boy who brings disappointment to anyone who has to be in my presence.”

Anakin felt out of body. His soul disconnected from his physical form, a spectre to his own performance.

He stood with the dragon, watching as he stepped forward, words spilling out of his mouth before he could think them.

“You know what Master? I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me. I’m sorry that all I do is disappoint you and bring shame to the Jedi. I’m sorry for who I am. Should I just pack my bags now? Should I find the first ship back to Tatooine and get my chip put back in?”

His voice didn’t break but the seams that held him groaned at the tension.

A lump of self hatred was lodged in his throat.

His Master, clearly feeling the truth his Padawan perceived, dropped his form in surrender.

“Enough Anakin.”

A shake in his voice. Anakin pounced on it,

“Oh sorry Master, was that too much? Was that too much for a Temple raised Jedi? Is it too much to see what you all clearly ignore while you stay warm and safe in your little pocket of space?”

He continued to move forward.

His Master didn’t flinch but his mask of passiveness wavered.

“I said enough Anakin.”

He saw in this moment that the fight was over but the young Jedi was in overload.

Images of torture, of scorching suns, of mocking smiles and jabbing taunts, of disappointed gazes and pursed lips. They all flew circles around his fragile minds.

A tear in his shields was enough to pull Anakin back.

He wanted more than anything for his Master to understand. He didn’t have excuses. He hurt, so terribly bad.

In a Temple of his people, from all corners of the galaxy, and Anakin felt alone.

No-one tried to understand, no-one cared.

Anakin wanted to make them proud, to prove that he wasn’t a mistake.

He wanted to prove that Qui-gon’s gamble and Obi-wan’s promise was not in vain. But at every corner there was someone, something, pulling him down.

He was tired.

He didn’t have any more fight.

The dragon may continue to screech and bite but it only bruised itself, ripped off its own scales in the progress as if to paint a picture of a strong soldier. Anakin was anything but that.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, exhaustion spilling into his words,

"You know what Master? I want to be better. I want to do well. I want to make you proud but that’s pretty hard when all people want is for me to fail so they know that Qui-gon was wrong to drop me in your lap. To force all of you to shelter a stray who should’ve stayed in that desert where he belongs.”

“Anakin stop.”

Ob-wan whispered.

His eyes became hazy. Obi-wan now only a step away became a blurred figure.

Anakin didn’t want to cry but his nose really did hurt and the seam holding back all that he felt was quickly becoming undone.

Neither of them moved, Master and Padawan at a stand still. Only the echoes of Anakin’s increasingly laboured breaths filling the space.

The air was becoming thicker, feelings of hate, sadness, pain and suffering making it almost suffocating.

Anakin sniffled, the first tear burning his face in its path. He finally dropped his gaze, the weight of his heart bleeding into his physical body,

“No Master. I-I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired… I-”

A sob fought its way up his chest. He tried to take a breath but the fight was lost.

“I’m so tired.”

He whispered before breaking down into full body sobs.

Anakin shouldn’t but he wanted to be loved. He wanted the warmth it gave him.

He wanted to be safe.

He didn’t want to feel like this anymore. He didn’t have the strength.

He needed his Master and little did the young Padawan know but he was there, he’d always been there.

He was quickly encased in a firm embrace. He could feel the tickle of his beard on his head. He sunk into it, sobs racking his form until they sunk to the floor but Obi-wan did not let go for a second.

“Shh. Shh Anakin, it’s alright.”

He muttered into Anakin’s hair.

He rocked them back and forth as Anakin’s breathing became more erratic as everything spilled forth, nothing in the way of holding back the wave of loneliness and self-hatred.

The dragon, now quiet, still held the weak embers of anger. It made Anakin feel all the more heavy as he choked out between shakes and gasps,

“I hate this. I hate Kian. I hate the Jedi. I hate the Council. I hate you.”

It didn’t help to say it. It didn’t alleviate any of the hurt. His Master seemed to know this, didn’t flinch or draw back at his words. He simply shushed his Padawan and reminded him to breathe.

“I hate you Master.”

He repeated, no heat behind the words.

Anger was a comfort, Anakin knew what to expect from his words but his Master could see past it all.

He could still see the child hurting beneath it all, desperately clutching at his defences. His soul was beared and Obi-wan vowed to help him mend the cracks he had ignored for far too long.

“I know. Just take deep breaths for me.”

Anakin tried, feeling the pulse of his Master’s steady heart through the tear stained tunic Anakin had soiled.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Anakin mutters the mantra as he steadily gained control of his broken body.

“It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.”

They remained that way for some time.

The quarters slowly became less stifling. Anakin could breathe again.

He sloppily tried to cover his thoughts behind chipped walls but Anakin could feel his Master’s warm presence gently soothing him, hiding away the hurt from any onlookers outside their embrace.

“It’ll be okay Padawan mine.”

Anakin sniffled in response.

As much as he wanted to remain in Obi-wan’s arm the burn of humiliation was quick to infiltrate his mind.

He tried to draw back, heat gathering onto his bloodied cheeks but Obi-wan’s arms tightened minutely.

Anakin tried to relax but the implications of his previous actions stayed a black hole in his thoughts, sucking all the safety he felt away.

“The Council-”

He tried to start but the rumble of Obi-wan’s voice stopped him,

“Excuse my language Anakin but kriff the Council. Just focus on the here and now. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Anakin couldn’t help the startled giggle that escaped him. His Master, the perfect Jedi, cursing the council. There wasn’t a day he thought he would see it.

They stayed for a bit longer.

Anakin’s presence slowly returning to his serene but ever intense supernova.

Obi-wan eventually drew back, Anakin hastily scrubbed at his face, avoiding any eye contact and the wet stain on his Master’s chest.

Feeling the need to apologise again Anakin muttered,

“Master-”

But was quickly interrupted once more, a hand reaching for his shoulder and squeezing,

“Anakin.”

Obi-wan waited for a response. Anakin tried with all he could, still feeling humiliated for his spill of emotions until the silence became too much.

Slowly looking at his Master all he saw was love. Shocked, Anakin blinked and fully sat up.

Obi-wan smiled sadly at his young Padawan taking in the puffy eyes and bloodied nose.

He now saw the raw pain that was etched into every stitch of Anakin. Always his firecracker he did not expect to see him burn out. It made his chest hurt that his young charge would carry such a weight with him, his one person not there to soothe the wounds for far too long.

“Anakin."

He repeated.

“Trust my words. You are where you belong. I’m so proud of you. All of your achievements. All of your emotions. Everything.”

Tears snaked their way back into Anakin’s eyes as he dropped his head once more, trying to hold the little dignity he prayed he had as Obi-wan continued,

“I’m so proud of you Anakin.”

They sat in comfortable silence once again, Obi-wan hand never leaving Anakin’s shoulder as he composed himself.

His Master was there, had probably always been there.

Anakin still didn’t trust the Council and knew their heart to heart wouldn’t stop the other Padawans or himself from implanting doubts within his mind. But he knew now this wasn’t a mistake.

That he could heal.

It would be a long road but Anakin felt he could do it if Obi-wan was there and he was happy with that.

Obi-wan moved to stand up, pulling his Padawan up with him. Both of them locked eyes again and a grim determination had taken over Obi-wan’s expression,

“Can you clean yourself up dear one? It doesn’t look broken.”

Anakin gave a shy nod, already dreading the pain of prodding his bruise.

“Good.”

Obi-wan said, a small smile of encouragement taking over his expression despite the furrow in his brow.

“I need to make some calls but how about we pay Dex a visit tonight.”

A large and unfiltered smile took over Anakin’s face and without delay he ran to the fresher to clean himself up.

‘This is worth it for a blue shake,’ was all Anakin could think as Obi-wan chuckled at his Padawan disappeared in a wave of excitement.

Chapter Text

Kix was trained for almost every situation he could come across on the field. The Kaminoians were not shy in their exercises.

He thought he'd seen everything; entrails spilling out his brothers, gargled coughs as one's own body drowned itself, a possible but prevented pandemic, but Kix had not been prepared for one particular and crucial detail; working with Jedi.

His allocation to Anakin Skywalker was some form of higher power torture.

If Kix gained a credit for every time he had hunted down his wandering General who had a strange adversion to his own health he would leave the GAR and buy a planet where he could finally get some peace.

As he had it, his earnings were bantha shit and he still had the most infuriating General known to man.

Said General was missing. Again.

He had been informed by Rex during the battle that Skywalker had taken a hit and tumble straight into a fallen gunship. As expected he'd gotten back up and joined the fray as if nothing had happened. The headache, that he got before each battle, had increased tenfold.

He ran through his head all the possibilities that could arise once he got to his General and if he would need a tranquilliser to get him to comply. It seems the General had a similar mindset and had taken it upon himself to meld into the crowd.

The losses had not been large and this, after a clipped conversation with his brother and senior medic Coric, meant he would be on Skywalker duty.

He roamed the battlefield, medpack secured with all he would need for the moment he locked eyes on the brunette Jedi.

He'd already spoken to many of his brothers, including Rex, and even had a moment with the Commander who pointed him in many different directions but not to one that would get him to his patient.

The gunships had left and Kix was hitting the edge of his patience. He'd be admitting himself for a migraine very soon if his General kept running.

Once back on the Resolute he looked in all the usual hiding spots. The training salles, mess hall, hanger, command centre, comms room, and even their medbay, but all pulled up empty.

As much as the clone would rather keep a level head, as his training required, he was getting worried.

For all he knew his General had found a quiet corner to die as to not inconvenience anyone. The paperwork would be a lot more hefty and Kix would argue it inconvenienced him more.

In spite of this thought process Kix did truly care for his General.

Despite his infuriating habits Anakin was a good man. He was smart, calculating and incredible on the battlefield. He cared for the clones as sentient beings and respected them as much as he would anyone else deserving of it.

Anakin's flaw was caring too much for others and believing his suffering did not amount to anyone else's.

If Kix could lock him away to prevent more threats to his life he'd do it in a heartbeat. Anakin didn't realise thousands of men would rather take what their General got then see him suffer again.

Which is why Kix was so determined to find him before it was too late.

Finally rounding on his last location before he declared Anakin a missing person Kix pulled out the master key that gave him access to all rooms of the ship.

He stepped into Anakin's quarters to find the lights on and the place empty. The bed remained untouched, for how long he wasn't sure, but he knew it'd send shivers down his spine and cause the ever present migraine to render him blind.

Everything appeared untouched except for the muddy footprints leading straight to the fresher. Composing himself Kix walked over, opening the door without hesitation.

What greeted him wasn't a surprise but had him comming for immediate backup and swinging the bag off his back.

Skywalker sat against the shower door, practically lying down with limbs sprawled out in front of him. His eyes, though now lingering on his medic, were glazed over in pain and probably a bit of delirium.

Breathy gasps rocked his chest and Kix didn't even need his stethoscope to make out the whistle of escaping air as it entered his chest cavity.

Wasting no time Kix made quick work of obtaining IV access.
The haunting whistles of each breath gave an echo of disaster if not handled soon and prompted the medic to inject pain relief and adrenaline in case of a code without hesitation, doses memorised for his accident prone General.

He clipped a sats probe to his organic hand and glanced at the numbers that were illuminated a blood red. Not surprised but adrenaline seeped through Kix's memorised actions, speeding the process further.

For formality and to make sure his General hadn't only ignored a pneumothorax emergency but also a spinal injury, Kix ran the scanner over Anakin to find all other injuries to be minor. Thank the Force.

Already pulling out his emergency box clearly labelled 'PNEUMOTHORAX' he grabbed the appropriate equipment and got to work.

"No talking Sir. As your medic I revoke your speaking privileges for your health and my sanity."

Normally Anakin would spare an offended but bemused expression to his medics quips but it seemed his escapades and the pain relief had sapped him dry of energy.

Kix's mouth drew itself into a tight line, creases etching a permanent line across his forehead.

This wasn't good.

Making quick work Kix moved to his General with trauma scissors. Making eye contact with Skywalker, aware of his dignity and reluctance to be exposed, Kix gave him the time to consent.

If there was one thing he had learnt in his time with the 501st's General it was never take away his autonomy when said patient was aware enough to flinch. The Force did not leave someone even when on the brink of death.

Anakin, in-between precious breaths, knew not to fight it and flicked a small nod and shut his eyes. He should fight it, keep his General awake and aware but he knew his next actions would invoke a rather unpleasant reaction.

Removing his tunic, Kix couldn't help drawing back in surprise to see the mural of purple bruises staining Anakin's chest.

His ribs rocked with each inhale, straining against the skin that kept all that belonged inside safe but acted as a barrier to the source of the issue.

As Kix prepared his scalpel a quiet cry of resentment spilled from his mind.

His General was 21 standard years old. Who and why was it a smart idea to send an impressionable and frankly broken young man into war. Not forgetting to lead one of the most successful battalions, if not the most successful, into battle.

He knew the logical answer, it was his purpose, as was his brothers.

They served to fight, bleed and die for the safety and security of the Republic.

Kix couldn't help the intrusive and criminal thoughts that haunted his everyday life as he stitched man after man together just to send them to their deaths.

What was the point? All this death, all this destruction.

To what end did it bring? A broken galaxy, both sides seeking control.

Power was greed. Greed was power.

He knew innocents died by the Separatists hand but who was not to say that a stray blaster shot or bomb had not come from the Republic.

Who was to scream and rave about his decommissioned brothers, his flesh and blood left strewn in the waters of Kamino and across battlefields of the galaxy?

Who was to cry for his General who at 21 standard years old was responsible for thousands of men and a teenager barely of age?

Who was to fight for them? Who was to fight for him?

Kix was programmed to serve his General but Kix chose everyday to be by Anakin's side despite the headaches and wild goose chases because the Jedi did not protect him. They didn't protect anyone.

The Republic who projected images of future peace and prosperity, of green fields and smiling faces, of freedom and justice, simply covered the wasted corpses and called it a sacrifice for Freedom.

Kix would argue that when choice was not an option, death in the name of the Republic was simply an end.

They could chuck their pictures on the Holonet. They could make a 21 year old man the poster boy of the Republic but if he fell he would not be the matriarch they would paint him. Anakin Skywalker would be a young man killed for power, greed, blood and taken from those who cared for him, loved him. And if he were to live, Kix feared the fire of anger and violence he had witnessed burn into the eye of his General would leave burns that nothing could heal.

Kix mourned for his General as his scalpel cut into scarred flesh, a breathy moan escaping Anakin's lips. He tried his best not to move but he twitched and strained against the pain despite the meds. Kix held him steady, only needing one hand to keep him in place.

Once the incision was large enough, blood obscuring the wound, he muttered a small apology and forced the catheter into Anakin's chest.

He whined in protest, shifting becoming more urgent but Kix didn't stop until he felt a wall.

Drawing the catheter back minutely he attached the end to a suction monitor. A loud cracked hum shadowed the sound of his brothers entering the quarters and falling into position and Kix stitched the tubing in place.

Finally looking up at his patient he saw slits of blue locked on his helmet.

For a moment they sat in the ambience of the medical emergency, clone and General, slave and former slave, man and man, brother and brother in arms.

As long as Kix was around he would do everything in his power to save him.

Kix would do anything to Free Anakin and he knows Anakin would do the same.

Gratitude swam between them and Anakin closed his eyes once more, Kix drawing back to complete the final checks before they moved to the medbay where both of them could rest for a small while once his General was stable.

The paperwork would still be a beast but with caff in hand Kix could handle it, even if he was being a slight hypocrite. He outranked anyone who told him otherwise.

Chapter Text

The Anakin Skywalker broadcasted across the Republic was an impenetrable wall of durasteel.

Across the Holonet and allied galaxy he was pictured slicing through droids like bantha butter, recapturing lost planets in record time, and rewarding the people with victory after victory.

His sharp gazed smile as he challenged yet another Separatist General, azure blade highlighting his golden features, was printed on every available surface.

Given the historical title of the ‘Hero with No Fear’ the Jedi General was the symbol of hope that war would one day be over.

Unbeknownst to his adoring fans and disquieted enemies Anakin was a fragile soul.

Not just the accident prone young man that his Master, Obi-wan Kenobi, had raised, or the reckless Jedi who exasperated healers and medics dealt with time and time again (Kix and Jedi Healer Vokara Che now held a private channel for all things Skywalker related); Anakin was also a mosquito trap for every wild illness that he stepped within a 20ft radius off.

At first when Anakin had arrived to the Jedi Temple, fresh off the sands of the Outer Rim, he had caught a nasty cold that left him sulking in the Halls of Healing for a week despite Obi-wan’s gentle reprimands that while rain may seem ‘magical’ it was a concoction of bacteria and viruses that would latch onto any vulnerable being.

Anakin, blue eyes wide with self pity, had believed himself above it even as he squirmed in Obi-wan’s tight hold as vaccination after vaccination was punctured into his scrawny arms.

Despite this a combination of 9 years of malnutrition and lack of exposure to the wider galaxy made him the prime target.

Anakin truly believed the Force held a vendetta against him.

After collapsing in a debrief, skin pale, clammy and sporting a record high temperature, he was sent to his quarters with antibiotics and strict instructions to rest.

Unfortunately for the young Jedi Knight his previous 11 years in the Order weren’t easily forgotten and he was prescribed around the clock supervision as well.

For the time being his own Padawan was on guard duty.

He regretted ever allowing her to spend time with Kix, the familiar line of, “I am technically your medic Skyguy and that means I outrank you” haunting his nightmares as he watched a repeat of Ahsoka’s favourite Holodrama when he refused to stay in his room.

Practically buried underneath a mountain of blankets when his shivers would not pass and his constant whining had almost made Ahsoka resort to violence. He was pretty sure she stole half from Obi-wan's quarters when the rich scent of tea leaves attacked his blocked nose.

He felt like death, but the ever present heavy weight of guilt as he spent day after day on Coruscant left him irritable and a blazing inferno of stubbornness when he could be with his men bringing them closer to the end of the war.

He could hear the gentle sounds of Ahsoka making him some soup, what would be his first meal in two days.

In spite of specific instructions to eat with his medication and to sustain his strength Anakin partly refused in protest and because it turned his stomach so violently he would spend hours afterwards warding off nausea like the blaster bolts on the battlefield.

Obi-wan had offered to ask Master Che for anti-nausea medication but Anakin once again refused.

Control was important to Anakin, more so than a lot of frankly essential needs to be a functional human being.

Familiar with the empty chasm when one plucked each choice out of someone and threw them on display just out of reach, Anakin would fight tooth and nail to avoid the distance medication caused to his body and the Force. Therefore he would stomach it.

His head felt light, limbs tingling with remnants of adrenaline as he fought to stay upright. Flashes of Hoth and strikes of Tatooine attacked his body, sweat spilling and cooling in succession. It was out of spite that he maintained his performance of fine.

But outside the clouded mind of the Chosen One his prison wardens, Ahsoka and Obi-wan, could clearly see how poorly Anakin was and what a poor job he did at hiding it.

They had humoured him for slightly less than a standard week, alternating shifts to make sure he didn't wander off and cause more damage.

When Obi-wan sought out Master Che for advice on how to convince his infuriatingly stubborn former Padawan to help them help him, a quick and subtle flash of concern echoed through her Force presence.

Anakin didn't know how many worried for him, how many saw the strain that his public appearance caused him.

The young Jedi was known for his ego within the Order, Barris had even pulled Ahsoka aside to warn her against accepting Yoda's direct order to go to Christophsis as she feared for her safety under his care, but they didn't know why.

They hadn't taken the time to try understanding the enigma of a Jedi that was Anakin Skywalker.

In her short years with her Master and Obi-wan's many in Anakin's childhood they had come to realise that what seemed a projection of ego and confidence hid away a need to please everyone, prove that he was worthy to be one of them.

A tearful exchange at 14 years old had Obi-wan constantly fighting the push of Masters of the Order hoping to knock Anakin down to level.

A bedside vigil had a spiteful and angry Padawan finally learning the truth to why her Master was so reckless with himself.

All of it was to prove that he belonged, was worth the trouble and could fulfil what was thought to be his only purpose - being the Chosen One. Ahsoka wondered who her Master would be without the prophecy looming above him.

Would he smile more? Would he ask for help? Would he accept the help? Would he hide from them? Would he push them away nearly as much?

Perhaps not, but without his 'quirks' Anakin wouldn't be Anakin.

He wouldn't stay up to Force awful hours teaching Ahsoka acrobatics when she wanted to add theatrical flare to her fighting style. He wouldn't hold her when the nightmare became too much. He wouldn't discreetly stock Obi-wan's tea stash when on planet to help him sleep after a particularly bad campaign. He wouldn't sit with the clones and exchange words of courage when they questioned their worth and identities.

Anakin wouldn't be Anakin.

They would accept his 'quirks' if it meant having him.

But as Ahsoka dished up the soup, feelings of calmhealingpeacelove chopped in with the vegetables, she could ask that he drop some traits to eat something.

Obi-wan was busy, surely worrying about his former Padawan, but locked in war councils as the war marched on without them and she was left with the Master of stubbornness himself.

Ahsoka picked up the two bowls, one with a nutritional and healthy mix of food and Force suggestion (to the best of her ability) and a stack of red meats, and placed both on their coffee table in front of the moping mess of bed head escaping the top of his mountain of warmth.

She had turned the heating down under her Master's nose when he threatened to run out the their quarters in search of blankets until she begrudgingly ran across the way to Obi-wan's rooms to fetch some more. His fever was still too high and if he wanted to play with fire Ahsoka didn't mind depriving it of more fuel as she surrounded him in his makeshift cocoon.

He was too out of it to notice anyway.

She nudged the pile and cleared her throat until two bleary eyes peaked through the fabric. She bit down a giggle at her Master's rather sad state.

Rosy cheeks and nose, droopy eyes and sweat soaked hair.

She'd find it cute if it didn't reflect his aversion to his health that would continue to deteriorate as much as Anakin insisted it'd pass.

She flashed him a smile and nodded to the bowl,

"Soups up Master. I am now your designated medic and chef. I expect a triple in my current allowance for multitasking."

Anakin choked a crackled laugh but quickly dissolved into a coughing fit. Quickly swiping some blankets away she lightly.rubbed his back until he stopped and caught his breath.

She could see the strain of his breathing through his tunics he insisted on wearing and she swore under her breath. If her Master was going to collapse again she might just join him on the floor.

Gripping his shoulder, scorching heat radiating through the fabric, she said a lot quieter,

"You okay Skyguy?"

He seemed to collect himself rather quickly and looked back to his Padawan, a pitiful smile sitting heavily on his pale features,

"Just fine Snips don't worry. I'll be better before you know it."

Ahsoka felt the need to huff in frustration.

Anakin would be better if he just did what was asked of him.

Reeling herself back, remembering her early thoughts, she sighed minutely and sat down next to her Master tucking herself into his side.

He seemed to sink into her touch and let out his own sigh but a hint of relief could be felt as her lekku, frigid from the air con, cooled his burning skin. She let him rest for a moment, happy he was finally being quiet and accepting comfort, but knew the indication that even this could be bad.

"Master?"

She whispered, fear tinting her voice.

He slightly turned his head to listen, still plastered to her lekku,

"Please eat something. I'm worried about you."

She could feel his mouth open to protest that 'he'd be fine' and 'its just a cold, it'll pass' but she quickly interjected,

"Master I know. Just have some with me this time, I don't have Obi-wan to eat dinner with me tonight."

Silence filled the room bar the Holodrama she'd be replaying all day and Anakin's nasally breathing.

She worried she'd pushed him too far and they'd be back at square one when her Master rocked forward with a grunts.

She wasted no time readjusting his pillows and grabbing the steaming bowl which he accepted with a trembling smile and slightly green face. She eyed the trash bin in their connected kitchen and prayed Obi-wan wouldn't be around if she used the Force in a frivolous way.

She'd argue that Obi-wan either emptied the bin or cleaned the entire floor.

She was yet to build that confidence with anyone but her Master. She truly cared for him and he did her, she just hoped he remembered that.

Trying not to make a fuss of the hesitant sip Anakin took of the soup, Ahsoka sent a small message to Obi-wan and he replied back almost immediately with a thumbs up.

'Mission Accomplished.'

Until he was better Ahsoka didn't mind looking after her sickly Master, as long as she could catch up on her Holodrama.

Chapter Text

When Anakin was younger heat was both his friend and enemy.

Growing on the expansive oven of Tatooine made him almost immune to innate human issues such as heat exhaustion, and dehydration was so etched in his bones that he managed with the rationed amount of water they were given easily.

The heat was a consistent companion, perhaps the only consistent thing Anakin had. However, the same companion used to bring life and happiness to others across the universe could also be engineered as a weapon. That was something the young Skywalker became intimately aware of.

When Anakin was only 4 years old that reality was scorched into his skin.

He had been dragged by the guards of Gardula from his pleading Mother and had a smoldering branding iron pressed into his wrist.The pain had been immense and it had melted away any of the childlike innocence he had. His fear kept him from the fireplaces and anything remotely involved with the licking flames of heat.

He should've known some years later as he glared at the suns that he would never escape it as long as he was on that planet.

He had been chained to a whipping post, subjected to hours of torture as the group cackled and jeered at his screams and later left the barely 8 year old boy to the elements. The suns beat down on him relentlessly.

He could smell the same cooked meat that had circled his nose for weeks after his branding knowing that he was slowly being cooked in broad daylight. He could see the heat waves mockingly swirling around the larger of the suns.

All over brushing the cloak of Depur.

Both Anakin and his Mother had begged and pleaded he be spared but to them this was minuscule punishment for allowing his dirty skin to taint the expensive robes that monster had worn.

He could make out his Mother’s shadow in his peripheral vision. She was the small comfort he needed as the suns made their course across the sky.

That was meant to be his day off. He had been on his way to the junkyard where Anakin had agreed to meet Kitster to work on his podracer. He’d even managed to smuggle some tools and scraps under Watto’s nose. They were laid forgotten at the steps to the platform he was melting into.

Anakin had long ago stopped sweating, the precious water evaporating off the blistered wounds left in the wake of the Depur’s entertainment.

‘What a waste’, he thought.

It may have been the dehydration talking though. That really should have been down his priority list but the old teaching his mother whispered to him on those lonely sand-swept nights would not leave his mind.

He used to cry a lot but Shmi’s gentle callused finger would catch each tear drop, dragging it across her son’s trembling lips.

“Water is life Anakin. Without it we wouldn’t exist. Cherish it, embrace it, let it fill you up. Do not waste it. We have been gifted life to drown in water and my boy, it will be yours one day far from this planet.”

How his Mother knew Anakin would never truly know.

She would tell him stories sometimes of planets entirely formed by water, and there she would see Anakin waist-deep in its depths. She told him he would cup it in his hands and drink it until his stomach was filled with the liquid gold. She told the small boy in her arms that there was enough that he would cup it once more and let the water soak his hair and caress his face.

That was what Anakin imagined freedom was.

On that day roasting in the sun, blood caking to his back and remembering his Mother’s words he would think of that freedom.

What the now Jedi Knight would never guess was that the unforgiving lash of fire would never leave him and it would always find him even in the middle of oceans.

That led to his current problem.

It was a mission on Kamino. A surprise attack on the clone's home as droids swarmed from the skies and infiltrated the facility solidly standing through the planet's storms.

Anakin was one of the first Jedi on scene with his battalion. The 501st burned with revenge as they stormed off the ship into the chaos.

Anakin joined them. His battalion were his family, and anyone attacking them or their home was enough for him to join them in the fray.

The battle was drowned out by the ocean's fury as blaster shots flew across the space. Anakin stood side by side with Rex, his face wet with sweat, mist and the blood of his brothers as he mowed down the droids who never seemed to stop coming.

Orders spewed out his mouth without thinking. They were on the defence focused solely on surviving.

Anakin had been commed when Obi-wan had arrived but his auburn haired master was nowhere to be seen, probably trying to break through his own barrage of droids.

As Anakin blocked another blaster shot going for Rex’s head he heard a shout of fear over all the overwhelming sound. Whipping round Anakin could see an AAT-1 releasing its blast on his battalion.

He only had two thoughts at that moment - ‘How did that get that thing on the platform?’ and ‘Save them’.

With all his remaining power Anakin surrounded himself in the Force.

He drew it into every empty orifice of his being. He stitched the Force signatures of his battalion, feeling Rex’s strength, Kix’s compassion, Five’s wit and wove it into his hands. He drew in the anger of the waves below and the tears of the skies until he couldn’t anymore. Within that split second he was an inferno of power and desperation. Anakin threw his arms out.

The droids were thrown across the platform, becoming piles of scraps or fish food as they scaled the railings. His men were knocked back with enough force to avoid serious injury but stole their breath as they hit the ground. Anakin watched the tank shudder and burst as the shockwave overtook its interior and crumbled it from the inside.

What didn’t react as it locked on its target was the red streak of death as it blasted the Jedi off his feet and at the mercy of the water below. Everything went black before Anakin even registered the fire below.

-

When consciousness tugged at Anakin all he felt was burning.

His eyes shot open and instinctively he tried to inhale to stop the fire in his chest. If possible his eyes bulged even wider as salt water ripped at his esophagus and filled his lungs.

Instinct fully taking over Anakin kicked as hard as he could, desperately reaching for the surface. As he inched closer to open air he was overcome by a spectre of orange and red light. He had no time to register its unusual nature until he broke the surface.

He hacked and coughed, forcing out as much of the water as he could. The storm continued to rock against his surroundings and with it carried the flames of the AAT-1.

When his mind wasn’t consumed by the overtaking need to breathe he finally took in his surroundings.

For one, he had clearly flown over the railing into the sea below. Secondly, the AAT-1 must have followed him after the force of his destruction and with it the oil had spilled across the water's surface. And thirdly, either the Force hated him or he just had awful luck because the oil had caught a light in the time he took an unprompted nap under beneath Posiedon's blanket.

Panic was quick to consume Anakin as he tried to escape his hellfire cage. With each turn another hand of fire flicked at his face causing him to duck below the surface.

He was trapped.

Images of the Gardulla’s palace festered behind his eyes. Despite the sounds of distant battle above and the roar of the waves clashing Anakin could hear his mother’s pleas and his young screams. He could never escape it.

With the Force in his hand he attempted to manipulate the spread of oil but it seemed his stunt had sapped him of his strength and even trying to move them clouded his vision and almost took him down below.

On a good day Anakin wasn’t the best swimmer without equipment. Years on that Force-forsaken desert planet left him at a disadvantage from the get go, but he could stay afloat. Throw some Force exhaustion, panic and multiple injuries he was sure were hidden by the situation he was caught in he didn’t have much hope.

Arching his head to look above he tried to make out any of his battalion or another Jedi but the clouds seemed to swallow the building.

His men would come, he knew that, and his Master surely not far behind but he wasn’t sure how long it would take them.

Attempting to calm his pounding heart Anakin closed his eyes allowing the waves to move him as it pleased, shifting as best as he could when he felt the lick of flames.

While before he had welcomed the salty breeze to free his lungs he could feel the iche of smoke replacing the much needed oxygen.

His limbs were growing numb and Anakin’s head pounding. He could no longer feel the flames as they carassed his limbs. He just needed to hold on but as time almost slowed to a still and he continued to wait for his rescue Anakin began to lose his fight.

Bobbing down intermittently Anakin had to use every store of strength to stay afloat.

‘Master’ he thought, picturing his stubborn but loving Master. He thought of his auburn hair, strict exterior, grounding touches and soothing tone. It calmed him as he sent out a weak call. Anakin had lost his Mother but he still had Obi-wan.

‘Save me’

Anakin fell below the surface once more but when he kicked his legs it wasn’t enough. His eyes stayed open, stubbornly watching the fire dance mockingly above.

Water had once been his freedom, now it would be his demise.

As his vision darkened and his body screamed for breath Anakin released the last of the charcoal air he held.

He watched the bubbles float to the surface, just too far out of reach. A small white light blinked to life and as he let himself inhale he swore he could hear the muffled rumble of a distant engine as Kamino's unforgiving waves swallowed him whole.

Chapter Text

The light left Anakin Skywalker.

As his eyes sealed shut against the water and lick of flames he sunk somewhere no-one could reach him. He was lost in a murk of congealing darkness.

It pressed down on him, ripped his cells into mere atoms and tossed them into whatever space he was trapped in. He'd scream if he remembered how. His only ability was to think and even that was shrouded and drifting.

The currents spun him, tore him to the edges of the universe and catapulted him back together repeatedly. It was a torturous existence. He wouldn't say it was painful, he lacked the ability to feel, but it was disorienting and unnatural.

When the Masters of the Temple became tired of the young slave's questions of death and the Force they described the very little they knew about what came next in words a child lacking primary education may understand.

They said it was light.

Lie.

They said it was peaceful.

Lie.

They told him he would feel whole.

He wished he could haunt them just to tell them how wrong they were.

If this was death and rejoining the Force he would've shut his eyes and blocked out the Jedi and their lies in favour of living the life he always dreamed of. It would make whatever he was being subjected to worth it.

He would've stayed with his Mother, pocketed small percentages of his pod racing wins until he could Free them both. Next he would've seeked out Padmé once more and whisked her away to a secluded planet where the three could live in peace. He would hope his path would converge with Obi-wan and Ahsoka at some point so he could hide them in his bubble as well. Once he had the ability to Free those lost in bondage he would travel the galaxy doing so, and made sure his battalion ended up with him.

It was all dreams.

It was all fairytale but he yearned for it. A life of purpose he chose.

A life where his gold plated Republic issued shackles finally were released.

A life he was actually Free under the light of Ar-Armu who smiled gently on them, her tears of happiness drenching the sands in green and life where his family would finally be whole.

But even as his thoughts drift with his being as it's tugged and melted in this abyss he wonders if the Jedi were lying at all.

Anakin wasn't a good Jedi.

He'd argue he wasn't even a good person. He'd done so much bad.

He'd killed for revenge, allowed himself to be blinded by anger and suffering and subject innocents to that. He'd maimed, tortured and played with his victims.

He was darkness. So perhaps the light rejected him.

Perhaps the dark had swallowed him whole.

Perhaps this was all his fault, just as all the pain in his life was.

Perhaps Anakin Skywalker was getting what he deserved.

So he stopped thinking.

His consciousness floated with the waves, it drifted into the claws of the darkness and it stopped questioning and just accepted.

It seemed the abyss was waiting for this.

The first tell something was changing was a distant echo.

It reverberated through the space, vibrating his being and jolting his mind back into space. It wasn't distinguishable but it didn't stop. It grew louder, more desperate. It shook him until he was trapped in an constant earthquake.

The next tell made him question if he'd interpreted this all wrong.

Anakin had almost forgotten what it was like to feel anything until his chest began to burn.

It was soft at first, almost comforting until the flames grow hotter and more ruthless. It surrounded him, melting him back into a human like form withering in agony.

The flames clawed at his face, shoulders and chest. Whatever Anakin was trapped him was hell or perhaps the Sun Dragon that lived within his soul had finally had enough of him and was trying to escape.

It felt like it lasted an eternity until it all suddenly stopped.

His brain had melted, he was sure of it, no longer able to process the pain, the noise.

He drifted once again, a coil of fear ever present that it would start again.

It wasn't long before he was being tugged again, his being pulled taunt by an invisible string. He had no strength to fight it even as his consciousness was pulled further and further away.

He barely noticed the light.

He barely noticed the taste of artificial air and his aching throat.

What he did notice was the voices that gently called it him.

"Oh my dear one."

A whisper stitched by woe. The voice made him feel safe though he didn't trust it.

The Sun Dragon could strike again at anytime. He tugged slightly on the string hoping to stay in the cooling mesh of darkness that he'd grown so familiar with but whoever pulled him further was insistent.

"Master please wake up"

This voice was louder. It was drenched with sadness and almost made him feel bad. A flash of blue and white infiltrated his mind.

He felt an ache of longing, as if the voice was touching him and soaking him with it's pain. It jolted him, the space shook as if it was challenged.

Anakin grabbed the string for purchase and his added weight seemed to increase the speed.

Only now did he notice a small pinprick of light above him.

"Skywalker I need you to fight right now"

Even in this state he could sense the authority in this voice.

It was familiar and he could imagine someone tall rolling their eyes at him. But something that threw him off, and perhaps caused the intense wave of vertigo that twisted his stomach, was it sounded worried, moreso than he had ever heard before.

The string faulted and ceased it's movement.

He felt a brush on his head and suddenly the string grew thicker and easier to grasp. With all his strength Anakin pulled himself up.

The message was clear, it was his job now to keep moving, to leave the Sun Dragon and the false safety of the darkness behind.

He continued to climb.

"I love you so much Ani. Take your time my love but know we miss your voice everyday."

Anakin was shaking, at least he thought he was.

The closer he got to the light the more attuned he became with himself.

Everything that had previously burned now were abnormally tight. His throat ached like hell and everything tingled with excess energy.

He felt his strength waning. Maybe he was destined to be pulled apart in the darkness.

All that previous self-hatred pooled back in his gut, phantom heat of the Sun Dragons fires licked at his skin.

But that voice, that voice brought him comfort and melted the pit of anxiety in his stomach. It smelled of flowers and caressed his skin with gentle warmth.

He grit his teeth and climbed.

His fingers arched finally to the light above him.

Just as the tips touched the glowing surface and he was swallowed whole, one final word appeared at the forefront of his mind and he didn't feel afraid.

'Padmé'

He was Free.

-

“Master Kenobi tried to lead me through meditation again Master.”

Ahsoka couldn't help the wet chuckle that escaped her.

She held her Master's hand in hers, careful of the lines protruding from it. Even after all this time she couldn't bring herself to look at his face for long periods of time.

“He told me I’ve inherited your hate for the practice… but it’s helped. Maybe that’s what you’re doing. Catching up on all your failed attempts”

She tried to laugh again to break the tension in the room but failed as she fell into a broken sob.

She spared a glance at Anakin's face where the pressure tight humidified oxygen mask practically obscured his entire face as it provided constant pressure to his healing lungs. It was better than the intrusive tube only changed days before.

It still doesn't hide the burns marring his forehead and disappearing into the barely regrown hairline, or the electrodes monitoring his brain activity.

She swallowed heavily, dropping her gaze back down to their interlocked hands.

“I really miss you Master. Rex and the boys miss you. Master Kenobi… he misses you so much. Padme. Force even Master Windu has commented on your absence. Something about it being too quiet now."

She cleared her throat, attempting to wash away the lump threatening to block it.

Six weeks and it hadn't gotten any easier.

Their shared apartment was barely touched, a layer of dust on every surface, the air stale after she'd failed to spend more than a few minutes in there. It wasn't home without muttered curses and the smell of a smoldering iron as her Master attempted to fix another broken droid he'd somehow gotten his hands on.

Thankfully, Master Obi-wan needed the company as well and had happily hosted her in his own quarters.

She just wanted him back.

"It’s true though Master. The Temple is eerie now. When I go to the barracks everything echoes… Just wake up for us Master. Anakin? Please?”

She squeezed his hand gently, her eyes closing as she tried to compose herself. She'd lost enough dignity with the amount of times Master Che walked in on her crying, but even she didn't stop the young Padawan mourning.

The grief was stifling.

She could barely focus on lessons and point blank refused missions if it wasn't with Anakin. She felt like a shell of herself with the supernova that was her Master next to her.

Lost in her own mind she barely noticed the twitch of Anakin's hand but after weeks of nothing she sat up straighter and stared wide eyed at his face.

“Master?”

It took a moment but Anakin slowly furrowed his brow.

“Anakin!?”

She shot to her feet, her hand squeezing his, forgetting about the cannula now.

Anakin groaned softly behind the mask and her heart pounds.

“Come on Master! You’ve got his.”

She practically pleads.

He makes another noise, more like a whimper when the door behind her opens. She barely registers the presence as quick feet walk over after seeing the young Padawan hovering over her Master's still form.

“Ahsoka?”

It's Obi-wan.

She can barely help herself as her voice comes out a lot louder than she intended but he barely flinched.

“Master I think he’s waking up!”

She hears something drop as he rushes to the other side of the hospital bed, his hand reaching up and touching Anakin's forehead. The light that had dimmed in her Grandmaster's eyes was slowly igniting.

“Anakin?”

It takes a moment, and almost a moment too long that she begins to question whether she imagined it when Anakin's head rolls slightly towards Obi-wan's voice.

Obi-wan let out a choked laugh, his hand running through the short cropped hair.

Ahsoka steals a glance and sees the most beautiful relieved smile she's ever witnessed on his face. Her eyes mist up.

“That’s it Padawan. Come back to us”

Both Jedi hold their breath as Anakin's eyes shake slightly under his eyelids before inching open to reveal slits of blue they'd both missed so dearly.

Both of them were point blank ignoring the tears dripping down their faces.

“There you are. Oh Force Anakin you scared us.”

Obi-wan says through a choked relieved sob.

Anakin stared for a long time and Ahsoka swallows nervously.

Master Che had warned that he'd gone without oxygen for over ten minutes after being under Kamino's unforgiving waves and the later resuscitation on the rescue ship. There was no telling until he was awake if he'd be the same.

Obi-wan seemed to share the sentiment.

“Anak-”

“Obi?”

It's quiet, hoarse and barely audible over the hiss of the oxygen but it's there all the same. Both of them sag with relief,

“Yes! Yes young one it’s me.”

They stared into each others eyes for a long time, neither saying another word. Ahsoka almost feels like she's intruding but she could barely find it in herself to care.

Anakin's eyes blinked sluggishly and she worries he'd fall back asleep for another six weeks if he shut them completely.

Before she could shake Anakin more awake Obi-wan quietly ordered,

“Ahsoka get Master Che.”

She shoots her head up to glare at him, her mouth opening in protest, her stomach coiling in fear he will be gone by the time she's back,

“But-”

“Ahsoka please”

His voice is heavy and Ahsoka can't fight it. With one more squeeze of Anakin's hand she steps away, only turning when she passed the doorway and began sprinting down the corridor to find Master Che.

Back in the room Anakin continued to stare at Obi-wan. He didn't seem confused but he couldn't discern what exactly his ailing former Padawan was thinking.

He resumed the soft stroking of Anakin's head,

“Do you know where you are dear one?”

It takes a few seconds for Anakin to respond. Obi-wan could practically see the cogs turning in his brain as he took stock of himself.

“Cold”

Again it's quiet and muffled, but it's his voice, a voice he hasn't heard in over a month. Obi-wan could kneel over with relief.

It was unlike the Jedi he hoped to portray, but he'd been so lost without Anakin and now he was speaking, something he was so scared he lost forever whether he woke up or not.

“I’ll grab another blanket soon young one. Can you tell me where you are?”

Again it took Anakin some time to respond but even with half-lidded eyes he responded,

“Bed.”

Obi-wan smiled reassuringly at him though he couldn't help the worry sinking in as Anakin's gaze drifted away for a second. He gently tapped his head to bring the attention back to the conversation, offering a small smile when Anakin's eyes found him again,

“Good, anything else?”

Anakin swallowed and looked around again before answering,

“Che?”

Obi-wan's brow furrowed in almost perfect imitation of Anakin's own.

“Master Che? Yes she’s-”

“Right here.”

Master Vokara Che strided into the room followed by a gaggle of other healers from the Temple. Obi-wan was swiftly moved away from Anakin's side. He didn't fight it, knowing they needed the space and fragile attention of their patient.

He choked out as he clamped his hands together to stop the shaking,

“Master he’s talking but-”

Che didn't even let him finish, already shining a light in Anakin's eyes who choked out a small whimper. It made Obi-wan's heart clench painfully.

“Allow the healer to make the assessment Kenobi.”

She stared down at her patient, taking in his roaming gaze and lack of movement.

She tapped his cheek until his eyes focused back in on her. She almost smirked at the slight swallow and nervousness that echos around his force presence.

'He's still in there.'

“Hello Skywalker, can you tell me your full name and age.”

He didn't answer for a good few seconds but Che had all the time in the world for him. Anakin wet his lips under the mask before saying,

“Cold”

She nods curtly, loss of attention span (if he even had any to start with) and confusion are to be expected,

“Yes. You’re on a lot of fluids and you are recovering. Temperature regulation will be difficult but that isn’t a priority right now. Now what is your full name and age.”

She was almost certain he didn't take in most of her medical rant but with a furrowed brow and a squint of his already half-lidded eyes he says,

“Anakin Skywalker... 21”

She nodded, not able to hold back the proud smirk that snuck onto her face,

“Good and where are you?”

It took him less time to answer,

“Jedi.”

She nodded along, already signally for her fellow healer's to grab the necessary equipment for further tests,

“Close enough. Anakin I need to perform a number of assessments on you with some of my colleagues, is that alright?”

His stared at her, blinking owlishly before his gaze roamed around the room again,

“Obi?”

He whimpered, lifting his organic hand shakily into the air. Che ticks off one of the mental points in her head for the neurological test.

She didn't try to stop the auburn Jedi Master as he rushed back to Anakin's side, giving them some time as she prepped her equipment, her ears still open to the young Knight's responses,

“Yes Anakin I’m here.”

Obi-wan reassured, holding Anakin's hand which was noticeably warmer and lifting the other to stroke his head, careful of the healing burns.

“Cold.”

Anakin whimpered.

Obi-wan shot a concerned look to Master Che as he shushed Anakin,

“Master?”

Che barely glanced at him as she pulled some gloves on,

“He will be confused and slightly disoriented Kenobi. His brain has suffered a lot of stress and he's been in a coma for far longer than I'd like. Until I perform further tests we won’t know the extent of the damage.”

Obi-wan swallowed nervously but nodded and looked back at Anakin. He gave him a gentle smile,

“Anakin I need you to listen to the healers okay?”

Anakin blinked back at him, suddenly shifting slightly on the bed. It was clear he was frustrated,

“Cold.”

He insisted.

Obi-wan tutted sympathetically, rubbing the knuckles of Anakin's hand,

“I know young one. Why not you help the Healers and I’ll find some more blankets, okay?.”

Anakin seemed to consider this before shutting his eyes briefly and nodding stiffly,

“Okay.”

He whispered.

Master Che moved forward at that and shot Obi-wan a look that clearly told him to step out the room.

Obi-wan sighed softly but nodded, brushing Anakin's head once more and offering a reassuring smile before stepping away, quickly losing view of his Padawan as healers swarm into position.

He took his time stepping away but the motions of the team were a lot calmer than they had been for the last six weeks.

He holds that comfort in his heart as he leaves the room to find a nervous Ahsoka in the corridor.

He smiled at her and she sagged with relief.

He pulled her into a hug, his head resting between her montrals as he projected feelings of comfortsafehome to both his Padawans.

It would be alright, Anakin wasn't done fighting.