Work Text:
Obi-Wan had just been minding his own business, exploring some caves. Luke was getting to be that age, you know, and Obi-Wan wanted to make sure he had a handle on what dangers may lurk where a child could find them. Truly, of all the activities he and Quin had joked about quitting the Jedi to take up, spelunking was not the one he expected to end up with.
He heard a soft trickling sound in the distance and stopped, trying to pinpoint the location in the complete absence of light. He turned slightly towards the noise, and the ground suddenly shifted under his feet, tripping him down a steep incline he hadn’t noticed and headfirst into a deep pool.
Obi-Wan surfaced quickly, reflexes mostly unhindered by his heavy desert robes, and he heaved himself onto the bank. He was surprised to see that the wide cavern that surrounded the pool was basked in a luminescent glow, bordering on eerie. He figured he should have seen that from wherever he was, unless he had slid farther than he thought on that steep incline.
He felt something heavy in the force but did his best to shove it from his thoughts with practiced ease. Better not to dwell on all the lights in the galaxy that have been lost. Instead, he turned his attention to getting out. The caves weren’t exactly going anywhere, and he still had maybe a year before Luke would get that adventurous. Maybe a couple months. At least a few weeks. Anyways, this was precautionary, was the point. He could call it a day and go dry off in his barren excuse of a hermitage and try again tomorrow.
He started by looking for the steep incline that led him to the pool, but it was nowhere to be found. Incredibly strange, but he was a little too tired and a little too soggy and a little too distracted by the Force to care too much. Instead, he turned his attention to just find any way out while he mulishly ignored the pressure in the Force for him to open the fuck up. The folks in Anchorhead were already starting to call him Crazy Old Ben, but if he checked for signatures in the Force as often as he wanted to, those folks would be calling him Dead Old Ben. Much less catchy.
Finally, he caught a whiff of fresh air that he could follow outside. Unfortunately, he also caught wind of some voices. He mentally readied himself for whatever small talk or negotiations or threats he was about to need (about equally draining these days) before beginning to recognize those voices.
“Inventory complete, Commander.”
“Then pack up, we leave in 20.”
Cody?
“Yes, sir! PACK UP, BOYS! WE MOVE IN 20!”
“Sir!”
That was more voices than Obi-Wan had heard at one time in- well, it had to be over a year. Maybe when he went to that black market off-world? But that black market wasn’t full of dead people.
“But what about Gen-”
“Boil, Waxer, I want you to do a perimeter sweep of the whole area. I understand if that means you will be the last to board. But you will make it on time, understood?”
The light grew with every step, and as his hope grew, so did his dread. If it was too good to be true, then it couldn’t be true … could it?
“Understood!”
“Where should we start, Boil?”
Finally, Obi-Wan made it to the mouth of the cave. The midday light was so blinding that he brought up a hand to shield his eyes while they adjusted. It definitely wasn’t to stave off finally seeing whatever reality awaited him.
“General?!”
“General!”
A multitude of shouts with variations of his name and titles filled the air. He could put it off no longer. He lowered his hand to see …
A clearing with a sprawling, partially packed-up camp.
Hordes of clone soldiers, possibly the entire Ghost Company, inexplicably alive.
His own lightsaber, hanging from Cody’s belt like it belonged there, though he know he left it buried in the sand.
“Hello there.” He answered faintly, almost out of habit. Are they- They can’t be real. They’re dead…
“What the kriff are you wearing?” Boil, or at least, someone wearing his face (and voice) asked. “-sir.”
Maybe that’s what the Force had been trying to tell him. He whipped open his connection to the Force, internally preparing to see the illusion for what it was. Perhaps he’s in grave mortal danger and some Darth or another finally tracked him down.
Instead, what he saw was truly his company, his clones, in all their individuality, as if the last decade or so had never happened. Bafflingly, blessedly alive. He couldn’t resist trying to open himself up further, to sense if there was any-
Dozens, then hundreds of Jedi lights were visible in the Force. He knew he was straining himself, he knew he was being greedy, but Force, he just needed to feel every Jedi alive. He just needed to know-
Obi-Wan fainted dead away.
There’s just … so many of them.
Obi-Wan lurked along the wall of the Negotiator’s main hangar bay, just observing. Taking it all in. Memorizing it, if he was honest with himself.
He knew he was about ten-ish years in the past, but he had refused to do the exact math yet. He didn’t want to know exactly who they’ve just lost and who they’re about to lose. He knew he was still force-exhausted, but he couldn’t help but to periodically reach out through the force to feel how alive the star vessel was. The clones were all so alive.
He knew they aren’t or won’t be or shouldn’t be. He couldn’t help but feel it all the same.
Going from the whisper-quiet deserts of Tatooine to the hustle and bustle of a fully-staffed Star Destroyer was quite the shock, to say the least. And all the familiar faces. Well, face technically, but still. To see hundreds of clones bustling about, smiling and laughing and joking around, is something he’s still struggling to accept. Still scared to accept. Because what if it’s just a dream? Or a trap? A trick of his dying mind to ease his broken heart?
He can’t lose them again. Wooley. Trap. Waxer. And-
“General!” A firm hand clamped down on his armored shoulder. Obi-Wan fought the instinct to flinch at the sudden contact. “I know Helix must have cleared you, right?” Boil chirped. “You wouldn’t have slipped out of Medical without your checkup, would you, sir?”
And that’s how Obi-Wan found himself being marched back to Medical like a child (like someone who is being cared for) and sat down with a stern lecture to take better care of himself.
Obi-Wan held himself very still as Helix began the physical part of the examination. A patdown of all extremities. A check of his lungs. A close examination of all parts of his face. More physical contact than he’d had in, again, almost a decade. How was it that the last time he felt so cared for was in the midst of a war?
“If you were trying to get back to work, I brought the work here, sir,” Cody held up the stack of reports he was holding.
Obi-Wan hesitated too long. He knew that it was uncharacteristic for him to shy away from flimsiwork, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach for those reports. Holding those reports would make it real, and making it real would give him hope, and giving him hope just to lose it all again would crush him.
“You’re not cleared for work, sir,” Helix jumped in, whether out of pity or out of true medical assessment, Obi-Wan wasn’t certain. “Physically, you seem fine, but respectfully, you look like death warmed over.” Obi-Wan turned to look at the medic. “I don’t have any way of measuring that Force poodoo you do, but I’d say you need rest. Lots of it. Medic’s orders.”
Truthfully, Obi-Wan felt better than he has in, maybe, a decade. Being suddenly that much younger will do that to you. But Helix called it right, Obi-Wan definitely overextended himself in that cave. And intentionally or not, Helix was giving him an out. Would Obi-Wan take it?
The examination finished, Helix walked away, and Cody moved closer. Now standing at his bedside, Cody looked him over, staring intently at him to figure out what was wrong.
“Cody, my dear-” Obi-Wan eyed the stack of flimsi in his hands, trying to judge how long Cody will spend doing it by himself.
“It’s alright, sir,” Cody started, having found something in his expression or decided something. “You need the rest.”
Technically, Obi-Wan’s had years of rest, if you can call hiding in exile “rest.” Did the Force bring him to the past to hide from the (now) future? To cower and shirk his duties and make his already overworked men deal with his load too? Would he keep living in the past (future?) or would he figure out how to change it?
Obi-Wan had a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it, and the first thing to do is figure out how much time. “Where’s the mission debrief?”
Cody hid his sigh of relief tolerably well, a sight better than Obi-Wan hid his flinch when Cody’s hand brushed his while handing the debrief over. Cody stood silently in thought, while Obi-Wan read the report. They’re a bit further into the war than Obi-Wan initially expected, but nowhere near the end. He tried to tell himself that the Force must have had its reasons for dropping him at this time specifically.
“Budge over, General.”
Obi-Wan wordlessly obeyed, and Cody scooted onto the narrow bed next to him so they were both leaning back against the wall. Then he settled a wide box across their laps so they could share a writing surface. He plopped the pile of flimsi onto their shins and held up a pen. “Pen, sir?”
“Thank you, my dear.” Their skin brushed again when he grabbed it, but neither of them gave any outward indication of that happening. Very normal. “Now, what’s the most pressing?”
Despite having jumped about ten years in the past after being exiled on a desert planet in a town with a population lower than the people in this room, nobody seemed to tell the difference. Oh, he knew he was acting weird as shit, but that wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for their Jedi Generals. The vode seemed to give him a pass because he had been lost in that cave for apparently the entirety of their planetside mission.
He had apparently just missed Ahsoka’s departure. He wouldn’t cross paths with her or any other Jedi for over a month, according to the mission schedule. He wasn’t sure if he was impatient to see An- him or grateful that he had time to prepare.
One thing at a time.
The vode didn’t mention any of his strange behavior, at least where he could hear them. He suspected they assumed some Jedi shit went down. In a way, he supposed it did.
He knew they noticed, though, because they were definitely responding to something.
“Thank you, Waxer.” Obi-Wan accepted the datapad from the trooper, and their hands brushed as he did. Even though that was absolutely something that could have been slid across the table. Even though Waxer had discreetly removed his gloves before getting up. No matter, it was hard enough to accept that dead men were walking around again. Every touch helped, and somehow the clones could tell. It helped him accept he was really in the past, that he wouldn’t just wake up to deserts and sand and twin suns, to crushing loneliness and grief and guilt. It helped ground him in the present, in the now, that he’d already lived and grieved and somehow had the chance to live again.
When the meeting finally ended, Wooley escorted him to yet another physical. Obi-Wan swore that Helix didn’t demand medical examinations this often before. At least, while they were in-flight with no apparent injuries or conditions. Well, he was still a bit Force-exhausted (more like Force-tired now, which, yes, was an improvement), but that’s not something that Helix could help with. Anyway, the physical portion of the exams have gotten much longer. The patdown of all extremities has turned into testing and feeling every muscle, seems like. Obi-Wan didn’t even know there were that many places to check his lungs from. And the close examination of the face is a lot more tactile than it used to be.
On Tatooine, Obi-Wan hadn’t even bothered finding a doctor for himself. Oh, he knew which one he could take Luke to in a worst case scenario, but couldn’t trust anyone to examine himself, as easily recognizable as he was.
“How are the nightmares?”
“Better.” Obi-Wan idly wondered whether it was better to be in a good place and have nightmares about horrible things, or to be in a bad place and have dreams about how good it was, but still have to wake up in the bad place. Then he immediately dismissed that question, because he knew the answer.
“And how are the headaches?”
“About the same.”
“Same spot?” Helix reached a hand out and cupped his forehead.
Obi-Wan did not lean into it, he did not. “Yeah, around there.”
Helix reluctantly drew back and scribbled something in his notes. “Okay, you’re good to go. Make sure you sleep.”
Obi-Wan wandered the halls of the Negotiator. It was much more active than the Temple would be at this time of night, but still much more deserted than normal. He made his way into the training room, always a good place to meditate when empty. The space was saturated with feelings of determination, pride, and competitive camaraderie. Things that can only be felt by those exceptionally alive.
It was not empty.
Cody was on the mats, practicing hand-to-hand against an invisible opponent. He turned at the sound of the door opening and greeted him.
Predictably, they ended up sparring. And as every spar since the cave has taught him to expect, they ended up rolling on the floor, wrestling. Cody pinned Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan tapped out, but instead of moving back to starting positions, Cody released the hold and laid out next to him, panting.
Also panting, Obi-Wan decided to wait him out. It was no hardship to lie on the floor, pleasingly sore, next to a close friend.
Carefully not looking at him, Cody began, “Will you ever say what happened in those caves, sir?”
When Obi-Wan didn’t respond, he continued, “You don’t have to talk about it, sir, I just-” He trailed off. “Did you see something? A vision, maybe?”
“No.” Whatever had happened, that wasn’t a vision. He felt it in his soul. That had really happened. He still sometimes felt like he was there, and any moment he would wake up and it would crush him.
“Okay.” Cody slid his hand across the mat until the sides of their arms were just touching. “Anything more we can do?”
Obi-Wan shifted a bit closer, savoring the sweet moment, committing it to memory. “You’ll be the first to know.”
There was a lot of work to be done, not just to prevent events from happening, but to heal himself enough to do so. But lying here, next to this Commander, with these men, on this starship. Well, it seemed almost doable.