Chapter Text
BAR HOPPING FOR BEGINNERS
“We should check out the lights, Wolffe,” Wolffe pants out, managing to keep his mocking tone despite running full tilt through the tourist trapping haunted mansion. “What could possibly go wrong, Wolffe! I am a fire fighter after all and all my brains went up in smoke, Wolffe!”
“You should up your cardio, Doc,” Cody hisses back, grabbing the edge of Wolffe’s grey t-shirt and hauling them around a doorframe and out of temporary sight. “You’re huffing and puffing but the house won’t come down.”
He will not apologize for looking into the light show streaming out of broken windows with muffled screaming echoing all around. People get into all kinds of shit and then need help getting out of it. That’s his job .
Wolffe wheezes through catching his breath. “Wolf jokes? Really ? Leave those to Fox.”
“Shh.”
“Don’t you shush me—“
Cody physically turns his brother’s head around towards the corpse lying in the center of the ballroom.
“That’s a body,” Wolffe says dumbly. “An old body—“ he cuts himself off with a scream when something large makes a whole lot of noise in the foyer.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Cody glances around the doorway. The monster they discovered on the upper floor and have been actively running away from must’ve broken through the ceiling. And is blocking the front entry they’ve been looking for, as Cody can now see. Splintered wood and broken off pipes and metal rods score deep into the inky hide without a bother. White flames flicker out of what must be its eyes, its mouth. How are they supposed to get out of this alive?
“What the fucking hell —“
Cody quickly turns back to Wolffe, wondering what could’ve happened to him in the past two seconds, and his peripheral vision clocks in on the gleaming getting stronger and stronger.
Light bursts from the corpse like heartbeats, bowing the frail back upwards and making the head loll to the side. Death-white, half lidded eyes see through them and Cody shivers.
Shrieks shatter down the hallway, coming closer, tentacle legs slapping against the walls.
“Christ.” He looks around frantically. There must be something they can use to defend themselves. Or a distraction. Anything . “ Fuck , grab the chairs!” He’ll bludgeon that thing into submission if he has to.
The corpse is being twisted on the floor right out of Exorcist 3.
Tentacles knife through the wall beside the door.
Bones snapping in and out of place, a low, pained groan, more likely a death sigh, escaping the corpse that rapidly, rapidly doesn’t look as decomposed by the second.
Cold descends on the room, a low trilling wavers through the black hole of the entryway.
Cody’s whole body goes taut when dead eyes blink, gain awareness. Locking on him, locking him in.
“Holy shit, I think he moved ! Cody—“
DAY NIGHT 1
Being one with the Force used to be not as eye-drying bright as it is now.
Obi-Wan hums to himself and is somewhat surprised there is a himself he can hum to.
Being one with the Force, as he has experienced—
A shocked yell and something large hits a wall or the floor.
Being one with the Force, as he has experienced, is light and lightness and warmth embracing him—
“What the fucking hell —“
Welcoming him like the old friend he is, like a dear friend.
“Christ, fuck , grab the—“
Obi-wan may have died with pain in his heart but not without hope and so the Force gathered him up and he knew no more but peace.
“Holy shit, I think he moved ! Cody—“
Well. It was nice while it lasted.
He wakes up swinging like wars have taught him, lightsaber igniting and his focus, his instinct, faster than his body.
“Wolffe!”
Much faster than his body.
“What,” he tries to say but his tongue, his whole jaw feels sluggish, and all that comes out is a dry rumble scraping his throat raw. The arm not holding his lightsaber hangs off his side like a misplaced robe.
No matter. The Sithspawn, a truly ugly one of its kind, is swiping at one of the sentients.
Obi-Wan tucks away the details, the unfamiliar room and construction, its debilitated state. Wooden floors but not Kashyyk. Ancient architecture. The sentients dressed in an unfamiliar style. The constant feed of new information drums through his head.
A swing of his saber around his body, rotating his shoulders, finding his center of gravity, ends in creaks and probably a dislocated shoulder. But he’s worked with worse. Possibly. It does the trick anyway.
Cold fire licks at the Sithspawn’s eyeholes as it turns to him. A disconcerting amount of legs slithers across the floor.
“I feel worse than death so let’s get this over quick,” he says - still tries to - just what exactly is going on here. The first syllable is groaning out of his mouth and his jaw refuses to cooperate more than that.
“Watch out!”
He has been watching out the whole time, Obi-Wan would like that on record. He stumbles back, out of the way of one of the many, many legs.
One of the sentients, with a distinctive facial scar, is clobbering away at the Sithspawn with a… chair, determination written all over his horror-stricken face.
“Cody, what hell do you think you’re doing?”
Cody, apparently, looks at Obi-Wan, disbelief entering the play on his face. “Making Father have conniptions at my funeral?”
The Sithspawn reels back, bowing back and twisting, screeching as it gets ready for an attack, and Obi-Wan can move again.
Strength piercing through his void, control over his muscles that burns and hurts and he’s burnt alive by strength and light and the Force rushing through forgotten veins—
Knees loose, one hand extended with two fingers pointing at the Sithspawn, the light of his saber glowing parallel to gravity.
The Sithspawn opens its jowl, sounds crittering out mockingly. It found its true enemy.
Obi-Wan inclines his head in invitation.
.
“God, that’s disgusting,” Wolffe, as Obi-Wan has learned - not that anyone has introduced themselves yet -, says and flicks off sticky, charred Sithspawn flesh from his shirt. “I’m gonna use all your hot water, Codes.”
“Just come over here and help me.”
Cody, as Obi-Wan has learned about him in the last ten seconds, is a very considerate gentleman, carefully bracing Obi-Wan and checking him over not unlike his CMO back on the Negotiator.
Wolffe crouches down in front of him, shining a light into his eyes. “Hey, buddy,” he says, a bit distracted. “You don’t look so hot. And creepy,” he adds under his breath.
Obi-Wan’s forearm detaches itself from his elbow without his say so.
“Ugh,” Wolffe grimaces. “So disgusting.”
“I am sorry to inconvenience your sensibilities,” he manages to say. It takes everything out of him and he’d like to sleep for a couple of days but Cody’s chuckle is lifting his spirits either way.
Wolffe’s fingers are gentler than his demeanor as they poke him. “Don’t talk, Rob Zombie, your skin is peeling off.”
Hm, interesting. From a scientific perspective this is all highly entertaining.
“His pupils don’t dilate or constrict at all,” Wolffe mutters. “How are you feeling?”
“Dead,” he croaks out.
“You look it, too,” Cody comments drily. Generally, Obi-Wan appreciates honesty…
Wolffe prods some more at Obi-Wan’s apparently falling apart face. “Huh. The skin is fusing itself together again.”
“You can heal?”
I’m only newly not dead, he wants to say around his tongue that feels twice the size it should be. He shrugs and remembers his dislocated shoulder.
“I wonder,” Wolffe starts and rummages at Obi-Wan’s side.
It all strangely doesn’t hurt. His body is there, so is his awareness of it, if muted through a looking glass. Hurt, nerves, any kind of receptors to what should be incredible pain is absent.
“Ha, good as new. Don’t lose it again, buddy.”
Obi-Wan stares at his re-attached arm. He moves his fingers.
“Rude,” Wolffe says blandly to his experimental gesture while Cody fails to stifle his laughter. He sits back on his haunches, critical look taking in Obi-Wan before he turns to Cody. “I volunteer your apartment for a more thorough assessment.”
Cody heaves a sigh, shifts behind Obi-Wan. “Hospital is out of the picture, I guess.”
“You want to explain all that to the cops?”
“No. No, you’re right.” Kind brown eyes fill Obi-Wan’s vision and perhaps, because he’s clearly out of practice, Obi-Wan forgets to breathe. “Hey, there, do you want to try to stand up?”
“Or he can carry you,” Wolffe suggests, sharp look narrowing in on him. “He’s extremely gullible when you invoke his hero complex.”
Obi-Wan narrows his eyes right back, feeling a smidgen of satisfaction as Wolffe jerks back. So he may have stared at Cody for a second here and there in the ten minutes of their acquaintance. He has working eyes - for now - and is currently not dead. He’s allowed to look. Instead of trying to speak, he twirls his fingers in an upward motion, and with their help he’s back on his feet.
He has no concept how long he’s been dead, where he is, why he is alive or here in this place.
“May,” he gets out after a few tries, slowly shuffling forwards between them, “I bother you for a cup of tea?”
.
“Am I— go…ing to make it— Healer?” Obi-Wan huffs out slowly.
Wolffe looks him over one last time, eyes taking in every detail, fault, and assumption which… has the tendency to make Obi-Wan uncomfortable. Wolffe crosses his arms. “By all rights, you should be dead as a door nail.”
The snappy reply is on Obi-Wan’s tongue but Cody beats him by a mile, slapping the back of his hand against Wolffe’s shoulder. “Bedside manners.”
“I don’t need bedside manners,” Wolffe says and turns to Obi-Wan. “Your blood pressure and pulse are basically non-existent. Someone looks at you funny and you lose a body part. How you were able to fight that monster is a mystery to me. Your lungs are doing god knows what. I don’t even want to know what your blood work looks like. I would hang up your x-ray in my office so I can scare and mentally scar the idiots after they’re off my table and I have to go interact with them. But,” he groans, flaps a hand at Obi-Wan’s body, “you’re obviously alive and actively healing.”
Sounds good enough to Obi-Wan.
“What do we do now?” Cody mutters to himself. He’s looking Obi-Wan over with just a critical eye as his… brother. Or cousin.
Information is what Obi-Wan needs. Information and ways to communicate easier. Force, he hasn’t felt this wrong-footed since—
“Doctor’s orders?”
Wolffe hums, theatrically stroking his chin. “Usually I’d recommend rest and fluids but it’s been a while since I cared for a goddamn zombie , Cody.”
A shower wouldn’t go amiss, in Obi-Wan’s opinion. Feeling clean would make him feel so much better and less grimy and dead. “Sho…wer?”
Wolffe has the audacity to laugh. “Five minutes ago I held your biceps in place so it could re-attach to your bone after I took your blood pressure. You think most of your body won’t literally go down the drain when hit with water jets?”
Obi-Wan can feel his jaw tighten. A tooth cracks for his efforts. “Grrr—ime.”
“Zombie,” Wolffe shoots back.
“Enough.” Cody steps between them, holding up his hands in peace. “That’s enough. We need to figure out what’s going on. If more people are in danger, we need to do something. That thing is definitely dead?”
Obi-Wan nods. Sithspawn can’t handle kyber hacking away at them with prejudice. Few things can.
“Let’s leave the world saving for tomorrow,” Wolffe grumps out, arms still crossed. He tips his chin at Obi-Wan. “You’re healing at a steady pace as far as I can tell. Get some rest. Cody, your bed is mine.”
Obi-Wan watches in amusement as Cody sputters. “What? Why?”
“You’re not going to make your newly not decomposing guest take the couch. He’ll sleep in the guest room. I’m not sleeping on the couch either.”
“It’s comfortable.”
“It’s practical.”
Obi-Wan slowly, carefully leans back in the chair he’s been dropped into to be examined. Whatever the relation is between them, they’re clearly family.
“Isn’t that the same?” Cody asks incredulously and gets a sofa cushion to the face.
Anakin had been like that. Loudly complaining for show, ultimately always doing what was—
His breath hitches and Cody and Wolffe are on him.
“Are you okay?”
“What’s wrong with you now?”
Obi-Wan shakes his head, his hand too slow to follow command, to rub his sleeve over wet cheeks. “Shower?” he manages again after far too many tries.
His rotten sleeve is carefully pushed away, revealing Cody’s concerned eyes and a tissue gently dabbing at his skin.
“Out of the question,” Wolffe says. “I’d rather not fish body parts out of Cody’s pipes.”
Cody kneels in front of the chair. He looks kind in a way that pierces and hurts Obi-Wan’s chest.
The Order had been kind, too, before they were razed to the ground.
“I’ll help you to the guest room, is that okay?”
For a moment Obi-Wan wants to refuse, save Cody’s kindness from Anakin.
He nods, lays his hand in Cody’s, and is pulled up in a strong, practiced grip.
Anakin won’t go after anyone anymore. Obi-Wan had made sure.
DEFINITELY STILL NIGHT 1
Well.
This is worse than he had thought.
No wonder Cody had screamed bloody murder when Obi-Wan had slowly shuffled towards the fresher to tidy himself up a bit and surprised Cody on his own way out.
Obi-Wan hadn’t known just how much tidying up there was to do.
“I suppose a splash of water won’t suffice in this case,” he tries to say. The gurgling groaning is, admittedly, getting old fast. The silver tongue of the Order reduced to slowly stumbling around, reaching out for furniture and doorframes to support his weight on unsteady legs, grating moans coming out of his dead-dark lips instead of actual words.
The resignation sighs out of him and he hurriedly slaps a hand against his face when half his cheek follows right after.
“You need any help?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes are now white, eerie, and flickering to Cody’s reflection leaning against the fresher entry behind him.
“I honestly do not know where to even begin,” he’d like to reply but he spares the effort and looks back at his own dead face.
This is highly disconcerting.
At least his hair still looks great. Although he wasn’t nearly as grey the last time he looked in the mirror.
“Come on,” Cody says, holding up a bundle of fabric, “I got some stuff that should fit you. Let’s get you out of those drags.”
“With a face like that you certainly don’t need to wine and dine me first,” is what Obi-Wan intends to say. It’s more groaning instead.
Cody smiles, short but sweet. “You’re welcome.”
.
“Careful.”
“Hngurgh.”
“No, we just pushed your shoulder back where it’s supposed to be. Don’t move your arm up yet.”
“Yahghh.”
“No.”
“Yah.”
To describe the situation as undignified would understate the severity of Obi-Wan’s embarrassment.
Cody opens his mouth.
“Yah.”
“You’re very stubborn, aren’t you,” Cody sighs and takes a step back.
Obi-Wan shrugs and the loud pop his shoulder makes has Cody twitching forward. Always ready to help. In another world he’d have made a fine Jedi, the Force gifting him with a connection to itself provided.
To be perfectly honest, Obi-Wan hasn’t ever felt so disconnected and pinned into place. The Force is helping his body heal but shut him out none too gently when he had tried to meditate on the bed Cody has given him. He can feel it, beating to the rhythm his heart is establishing. It cares for every aspect but his mind.
I’m not ready yet, he thinks. The Force has a task for him and he’s not ready yet.
“If you brace against my shoulders, I can take your pants off.”
“What a lovely image you paint,” Obi-Wan replies automatically. Of course it’s scratchy moans and disconcertingly wet sounding groans. He flushes.
“Or not!” Cody assures with a step back and held up hands. What a courteous man.
It’s charming. Obi-Wan is charmed.
He blinks and sees his friends and family hacked and blasted to pieces.
Stars, he needs to meditate. He doesn’t shy away from thinking he’d been dead for good. Death is part of life, he’d been at peace. He’s not at peace now and all the thoughts, the troubled memories are grabbing for his attention. He’d been at peace.
Taking a deep breath he hopes won’t rip his lungs open, he lifts his palms to Cody’s shoulders.
The smile crinkles the vicious scar tissue around Cody’s eye as he drops to his knees.
His commander had dropped to his knees as well, after impaling himself on Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, begging for answers and forgiveness.
He really, really needs to meditate.
