Work Text:
OBI-WAN KENOBI
Bombs exploding with the never-ending sounds of blasterfire.
A flash of light as red as blood.
The screams and shouts of men as they died.
Limbs torn from their owners, entire heads ripped from necks, white bones and body parts mixed in with the mud, the very ground shaking as another bomb hit the ground near to him.
It took him far too long to climb his way out of the nightmare, only to find that someone was shaking him in the real world, saying his name over and over again until he woke with a gasp.
He found that he was sweating, and tears were mixed in with the sweat; he rolled over and scrubbed his face as though wiping away the sleepiness.
“I apologise for disturbing you, General- but the enemy has attacked, we’ve already lost fifty men- ”
“I understand.”
His voice was toneless. A wave of dread swept through his stomach at the thought of going out there again; seeing his men die under the orders he gave them.
At the thought of the ground slicked with blood, and bodies churned into the mud under the feet of hundreds of soldiers, and chunks of human flesh and blood patter his clothes like rain when a bomb hit someone.
He took a deep breath, feeling the nausea settle in his stomach like a stone. He was grateful he hadn’t eaten anything before he’d gone to sleep.
“Are you feeling ill, sir? You look really pale and you’re still sweating…”
Despite himself, Obi-Wan cracked a small smile and felt his heart warm; even through the battle raging nearby his men still found the time for kindness.
“No, trooper. Thank you.”
Yet another lie.
They gripped each other’s wrists and the trooper pulled him to his feet. Obi-Wan followed the trooper out of the tent, seeing that the man’s armour was still relatively clear of bumps and scratches, though splattered with mud and blood.
A sure sign of what the other clones would call a ‘shiny’.
“What’s your name, trooper?”
“Whitefly, sir.”
“Well, it was good to meet you, Whitefly.”
And then they parted, and Obi-Wan was running full-tilt towards the battle, the sickness worsening with every metre closer he ran.
In the confusion of battle, Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly sure what had been going on all the time. Men had been dying all around him; he’d been deflecting blaster bolts left, right, and centre; mud and blood flew everywhere, getting into his eyes; and the shouts and screams of dying soldiers were left ringing in his ears long after they’d driven back the enemy.
A third of his men had been killed in that battle alone, and over half had been wounded, and it was his fault. They’d just been following orders; orders that he’d given to them himself. Cody had been injured, and Obi-Wan now stood next to his stretcher as medics cleaned the huge, ugly gash on his leg and wound bandages around it.
After the medics had left to attend to other patients, Cody looked him directly in the eye. Obi-Wan was still shaking all over, and dirt and blood had turned his Jedi robes into an entirely different colour.
“It wasn’t your fault, General.”
It took Obi-Wan a minute to find his voice, and when he did, the words seemed to stick in his throat.
“I gave them those orders. Now a third of our men are dead.”
“If you hadn’t been there, we’d have lost a lot more than what we did,” Cody said quietly. “You saved a lot of lives, sir.”
“No. I didn’t.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and looked away.
“General- ”
“Please. Just… don’t say anything.”
A minute passed in silence.
“I’m… going to leave you be for a while, Commander. I need some time to myself.”
Obi-Wan turned and made for the exit of the large medical tent, weaving his way through the rows upon rows of injured men lying on stretchers.
He passed Whitefly on the way out, seeing the huge bloodstain over the trooper’s chest just before the medics covered his motionless body with a sheet.
His eyes burned with tears, and as he finally stepped outside, he allowed them to fall, where no one would see them.
This was what he had to hide from the men; the nightmares and the tears that frequently came to him, more frequently than he cared to admit. He had to put on a show of strength and show them that Jedi weren’t affected by the horrors of war.
A sob escaped him as he reached his tent. How was it possible that he was unhurt, the one who’d fought in countless battles and who sent men to their deaths during each one?
Obi-Wan drew his knees up to his chest and laid his face on them, feeling tears soak through the cloth.
He never wanted to go back; he felt like he couldn't go through another battle ever again.
He wondered what it would be like to curl up and die quietly in his sleep, never having to fight in another war.
Of never again having to see someone follow his orders, and then killed as a result.