Chapter Text
Something is wrong.
Well, no, actually several things are wrong.
For starters, Anakin’s comm has been malfunctioning since he’d landed on this Force Forsaken moon, which means he is, for all intents and purposes, on his own. No biggie, really, he’d been left on his own on missions before. Except, of course, this isn’t a typical recon job. This is an Imperial outpost hidden in the Zak'aar system that supposedly keeps valuable information under tight lock.
The squadron he’s with has done an excellent job luring out the guard for him to make his way through the back, and for that, he’s beyond grateful. However, he knows that the distraction isn’t going to hold forever and he still hasn't had any luck finding that back door from the blueprints.
Yet, barring all those somethings wrong, Anakin feels the Force itself screaming at him about another something entirely. Something outside of himself, outside of the mission, something that, try as he might, refuses to be ignored.
“Kriffing hell,” Anakin grumbles, pinching his eyes closed as another clawing wave of anxiety crashes into him, forcing his focus from the task at hand. It’s as though something is physically pulling him away from the cold fortress full of promised secrets and toward the looming cliffs at his back.
Maybe it’s another way in, he thinks in a feeble attempt to ease the guilt he feels turning his back on the fortress. It’s times like these when Anakin feels resentment more than anything for his overwhelming connection to the Force. He wishes, not for the first time, that he understood it more, had a better grasp on it instead of feeling like a simple puppet to its will.
His mother had always told him to trust in his intuition, that it was his responsibility to embrace the gift he’d been granted. The Jedi that had once turned up- promising greatness in his future only to disappear again without another word- certainly hadn't helped deter her insistence that what he had was not to be stifled. So he’d never really learned how to ignore the incessant call of the Force, and by the time it became too much, it had been too late to try and control on his own.
And he hates that because sometimes there are more kriffing important things to do than indulge the whims of the Force! Right now, for example, there are people relying on him, lives he is literally gambling with every step he takes away from his mark. Whatever’s pulling at him had better be close so he can get back to his mission before it’s too late.
The first step into the maw of the jagged obsidian cliffs brings a sense of clarity about as welcoming as a headfirst plunge into the frozen lakes of Hoth. It sends a chilling shock through Anakin’s body, telling him he’s on the right track while simultaneously begging him not to go any further. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he makes his nerves settle; he doesn’t have time to have this fight with himself.
The red acidic air is heavy and cold the further he goes. He keeps his blaster at the ready as each twist and turn leads him deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of dark stone. Every nerve remains on edge, bristling against the icy darkness hanging around him, becoming thicker and thicker until it's threatening to suffocate him all together. Anakin grits his teeth, Just a little further.
One, two more turns and suddenly the feeling is gone. He frowns, heart picking up erratically as he slowly begins turning in the small clearing of dust and stone. It isn’t just gone, everything is, as though all his extra senses have been cut away all at once. The only thing he can feel of the Force is a faint, phantom echo at the very edge of his soul. No wonder this place feels so wrong.
His stomach twists violently, mind yelling at him to retreat, but he keeps himself still as his eyes carefully scan his surroundings. The Force brought him here for a reason, and he knows it won’t let him go back to his mission until he finds out what that is.
Then he sees it: the tiniest abnormality in the seam of a cliff. The color is lighter, only a fraction, but enough for Anakin to realize it isn’t a natural occurrence. Cautiously, he reaches out his hand, fingers brushing against the cool stone until he feels the ridges of a hidden panel.
“Ha!” He exclaims as he wedges the cover piece away to find a code latch beneath. Quickly, he digs into the small satchel around his waist for the delicate tools of his trade. For Anakin, lock picking is second nature- has been for a long time- which was one of the main reasons he’d been selected for this particular recon mission. In no time at all, the panel beeps happily and the wall beside him hisses harshly as it slides away, revealing a steep staircase leading down into the cliffside.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Anakin mutters. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he flips the light on top of his blaster and steps into darkness.
Someone is coming.
The soft rhythm of footsteps ring throughout the still abyss, stirring Obi-Wan from his brief stint of blissful unconsciousness. His first thought is Dooku, perhaps on his way to finally do away with him, but there’s something different about the pattern of the steps. Rather than Dooku’s sure stride, this person walks as though they’re unsure of their next move. The realization makes Obi-Wan’s eyes snap open as something akin to hope blooms charily in his chest for the first time in too long.
Truthfully there is little difference between the inside of his eyelids and the dark space surrounding him aside from the pounding in his head at the effort. The increase in his awareness brings his senses back to life, slowly taking inventory of his broken body. He absently tries to curl his fingers into a tight first, biting the inside of his cheek at the effort before giving up. The rest of him is not in much better condition. His ribs in particular are bruised and battered; in fact, he’s pretty sure at least a couple are fractured.
His throat is possibly the worst of it, though. After being crushed again and again, it burns with every shallow breath, dry with a desperate reminder of his thirst. He hasn’t spoken in he doesn’t know how long, unwilling to give anything- words nor screams nor the barest hum of acknowledgement to the man whose visits were becoming fewer and further between.
With all the strength he can muster, which truly is virtually none, he pushes himself into a sitting position on the uncomfortable stone slab that serves as his bed. He licks at his too dry lips with his too dry tongue and takes a deep, burning breath.
“'ello?” he forces out, voice raw and foreign to his ears. In the distance, the steps falter. Obi-Wan takes another breath, willing every bit of saliva to his dry throat to help him speak. “‘s someone there?”
“I guess that depends,” a voice echoes with a hostile edge to its tone. It’s a male voice, unfamiliar, and anxious despite the authority it’s trying to emulate, “who's asking?”
“I-I can’t-” Obi-Wan struggles to respond, feet swinging to the edge of his slab and settling numbly on the rough stone. "Please," his whole body is shaking now with the effort of using what had been dormant for Force knows how long. The best he can manage without overworking his damaged throat is a rasped, “Help.”
The stranger moves much faster, then, his footsteps bounding loudly throughout Obi-Wan’s to-be-tomb. Obi-Wan feels a weight lift from his heart, for only a moment before viscous realization slams it back down tenfold.
This isn’t real.
Of course it isn’t real. How can it be? He’d had visions like this before, constructs by Dooku as a creative means to torture him.
Any second now, the ghost of a dear comrade is going to appear, heroically sweeping in to rescue him, only to be killed before his eyes in the most gruesome way possible. Last time it had been Ahsoka, and he’d had to watch while Dooku ran her through with his saber from the base of her neck through the socket of her right eye before he swiftly brought his blade down and tore her in two. Obi-Wan flinches at the memory, and cringes at his own naivety.
Nobody is coming for him. Nobody ever will. It’s just another one of Dooku’s games.
“I’m with the Rebel Alliance,” the voice speaks carefully, reassuringly, “I’m here to help, okay?”
Obi-Wan shakes his head in his hands. A stranger with the Rebel Alliance sneaking through the dark rather than storming gallantly in?
Kudos to Dooku for his creativity in this one, truly. Were Obi-Wan half the man he used to be, he might have the strength to pass the sentiment along to the Count himself whenever he appears. But he’s past that now, too exhausted to do anything but take whatever punishment’s going to be inflicted on him this time.
“Hey, buddy,” the man calls out again, closer this time, “say something, would ya? I don’t want to get lost down here.”
No, he thinks harshly, go away.
“Hello?”
Obi-Wan folds further in on himself, exhaustion and overwhelming sorrow rolling through him. Had he had any moisture in his system to spare, he would probably cry. As it is, however, all he can offer is a choked, dry sob that rakes against his fragile core. It's a broken, pathetic noise that mocks him as its echo bounces pitifully throughout the cold room.
Oh if the Order could see him now.
That is, if there were an Order left.
From the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan catches sight of a light dancing on stone from across the small space. Here we go, he thinks, straightening up as much as his weary body will allow. The small light gets brighter, flooding into the room with a harshness that burns against Obi-Wan’s eyes. He clenches them closed as his head throbs and body careens precariously. Behind his eyelids, he can see the light sweeping across the room before finally settling on him directly.
There’s a hissed curse in a language Obi-Wan vaguely recognizes before the stranger’s rushing over. Obi-Wan slowly opens his eyes one at a time, meeting the shadowed face of his imaginary hero. Nobody he recognizes, Obi-Wan notes, which is… a strange angle for Dooku to work, but his head is spinning too quickly to linger on the thought.
“Whoa,” the stranger starts quietly, soft voice full of pity as he takes in Obi-Wan’s ruined form, “what in Sith’s hell happened to you?”
Obi-Wan almost snorts at the word choice, corner of his mouth twitching slightly. Sith’s hell indeed.
“I’m gonna get you outta here, okay?” His dark eyes search Obi-Wan’s steadily. “I promise.”
At that Obi-Wan does let out one hollow bark of disbelieving laughter. Get him out? He promises? There’s no way, and frankly, this charade of a vision is quickly becoming more see through by the second. Surely Dooku can do better.
Suddenly there’s a deafening hiss of locks being released and his cell door is sliding open. The next thing he knows, the strange man is kneeling in front of him. The light of the blaster peels back the shadows on his rescuer's face, revealing a pair of bright blue eyes full of warmth set in a face steeled in determination.
“Can you stand?” The man asks gently.
Obi-Wan sighs. He is weak, but he knows Dooku isn't going through all this trouble if he doesn’t want Obi-Wan to at least think he has a chance of escaping. So, despite the protest of every aching part of his body, Obi-Wan pushes himself to his feet.
The world tilts, then, shadow and light melt together in a swirling kaleidoscope around a pair of bright blue eyes wide with worry.
“Kriff!” Anakin curses as he catches the man against his chest. He lifts his face to the dark ceiling, sending an exasperated ‘fuck you’ to the Force for his circumstance. It’s dark, it’s cold, he is completely cut off from his team who knows how far from where he’s supposed to be, not to mention he's disconnected from the Force, and now there's an unconscious man in his arms that he’ll have to carry out with nothing but his free arm and a blaster to defend them should the occasion arise.
Not that he’s blaming the man, of course. In fact, as he adjusts his hold on the thin body, he understands exactly why the Force had been so damn insistent he make this detour. Nobody deserves to be kept this way.
It just would have been easier if he’d been a little more prepared for the situation, is all. If he’d had more time, maybe, or even a code line to comm to, or, kriff, a damn light that could reach further than 5 feet at a time!
He sighs, letting his blaster hang from its strap as he ducks down to pull the man over his shoulder. Anakin’s stomach twists at just how light the stranger is; he shudders to think what would have happened if he hadn’t found him.
Retracing his steps is much harder than he expects. He’s so used to relying on the Force to help lead him where he needs to go that he seldom takes the time to memorize his own path. He’s beginning to see the folly in this method.
As he treks mostly blind back, he begins to notice more passages branching off from the main one, and his heart picks up. They’ve got to go somewhere, right? And there are good odds that at least one of those places is the fortress. If so, then perhaps this little field trip hasn’t been a total waste to his original mission after all.
Unfortunately, with the unconscious man draped over his shoulder, Anakin is hardly in the position to test this theory. For a moment he entertains the idea of simply taking the man with him, but pushes it aside. He’d have twice as much to defend and half the ability to do so if they ran into trouble, which, historically, has always been something Anakin excelled at.
Still, they are so kriffing close.
'Hide.' A soft voice he'd often associated with the Force pushes its way through the very edge of his mind. Anakin stops for a moment, unsure if he'd actually heard anything at all, when harsh artificial lights begin turning on ahead of him in succession with the steady pace of boots on stone.
There's no time to think; his feet move on their own to the nearest tunnel. He quickly turns off his light, slipping as far into the shadows as he can while still keeping a visual on the main hall. Right now, that's the only exit he has, it would be foolish to completely abandon it without a back up plan. Then again, knowing where this exit is won't do much good if they're caught.
With that unhelpful thought, Anakin silently prays to the Force that the boots will pass this tunnel by and take no notice of them. He holds his breath, heart hammering loudly in his ears as he watches the shadow of the figure grow larger on the rough stone wall across from their hiding place. Then, all too suddenly the figure is in front of them, purposefully passing by on his way to deeper parts of the cave.
Anakin is frozen in shock. He'd only ever seen holos of the infamous Darth Tyranus, and just that brief glimpse of the man makes Anakin realize they did not do him justice. Even without the Force, Anakin can tell Tyranus is strong, deadly, focused, and he hates to think about the implication of the Sith Lord's presence here and now.
He needs to get to the surface, to his squadron, and then they need to get off this kriffing moon, like, yesterday. If they haven't already left without him, that is. He couldn't blame them if they had, really. Darth Tyranus is a known monster, and without a way to reach Anakin, he couldn't expect them to wait around. He only hopes that if they did go, it was before Tyranus got to them.
Once Tyranus' steps get a little further, Anakin takes a moment to readjust the man on his shoulder- who seems to be getting heavier by the minute- before slowly creeping back toward the main hallway. He barely steps into the light when a howl of fury push its way through the winding halls.
"Time to go," Anakin mutters, tightening his hold on the back of the man's legs as he takes off toward the exit.
When he turns the corner to the stairs, he's suddenly hit with the full power of the Force flooding back to him. His steps falter, eyes blurring momentarily at the saturation of darkness overwhelming his connection. It's the sound of crashing stone that jolts Anakin back into action.
He rushes up the steep steps, gets one foot on the way out the door- boot digging into the black dirt of the surface- when he feels the grip of the Force wrap around his legs and twist him back. The man falls from his shoulder, landing beside his blaster snapped from its strap just beyond the door.
His back slams hard into the black stone of the stairs, knocking his breath away. He needs to move, to do something, but all Anakin can manage is watching wide eyed as Darth Tyranus rounds the final corner of the hallway, ruby saber ignited, carving angrily into the walls as he stalks closer, looking past Anakin to the man lying in the dirt.
"Well, now," Tyranus drawls contemptuously, "looks as though I've caught myself a little Rebel thief."
Anakin sits up, desperately reaching behind him for the blaster just out of reach, but Tyranus clenches his hand and Anakin's body seizes. The Force is traitorously crushing him and he is completely powerless to stop it. Tyranus is on the stairs now, getting closer, snarling like a rabid animal at Anakin who dared mess with his prey. Slowly, Tyranus lifts his hand, Anakin mirrors the movement in the Force till he's hovering just above the steps. Tyranus' golden eyes glint manically as his intention rings loudly through the Force. With one twitch of his wrist, Anakin is going to die, his neck will snap and that will be that.
'Help.'
A voice whispers into Obi-Wan’s mind, dragging him from unconsciousness like a cool breath of air. He feels his body begin to stir, warm light slowly filling him with life, starting from the tips of his fingers and toes, pooling into his core. He jolts awake, eyes burning against the dull red sky, lungs gulping in the dry air as though it's the power of the light itself. And, who knows, by the way the Force leaps within him, like a freshly restored piece of his very soul, maybe it is.
'Help!'
The voice hisses again, desperate. Suddenly Obi-Wan feels a surge of power pulse through him, feeding him strength he’s forgotten he’d ever had. It isn’t much, but it’s enough . Obi-Wan turns his head- the coarse black dirt scratching uncomfortably against his heavy skull- and sees a boy in front of him, dangling in the opening of the cliffside.
'Please.'
Clarity washes over him in that moment. It hadn't been in a vision after all. The rebel who rescued him from his cell, who somehow got him into the open air, is real, he's in trouble, and the Force is demanding Obi-Wan do something about it.
Obi-Wan moves with a speed that shouldn’t come so easily. He catches sight of the blaster nearby and rolls toward it, its weight like an old friend in his hands as he shifts his focus past the boy in the air. Then he sees him, Dooku with his hand outstretched, a manic grin twisted on his face as he stalks closer. Obi-Wan moves on autopilot, twisting to his belly and adjusting the blaster against his shoulder as he takes aim. The moment before Obi-Wan squeezes the trigger seems to happen in slow motion: Dooku senses him, his burnt gold eyes slide over to Obi-Wan; they widen in shock an instant before a red blast finds its home against the black plate over his chest. He’s sent flying back into the caves and the boy drops to the ground with a hard thud.
He gasps for air, hand clutching at his collar as he twists his head toward Obi-Wan. A ripple of confused gratitude moves through the Force. The boy opens his mouth, but Obi-Wan waves him off.
“Later,” he rasps hoarsely. There’s no time for niceties, and thankfully the boy seems to feel the same. He springs to his feet and rushes to close the door. Obi-Wan drops the blaster to push himself onto his hands. Whatever power he’d been syphoned is waning now, and the extent of his injuries are making themselves known.
He pushes through it. He has to.
There’s a blaster shot into the control panel as his arms tremble and then he can feel the other’s eyes on him. He’s halfway to his feet, leaning his weight on an elbow on his knee; he hears the stranger sigh.
“Here, let me,” the boy says. Then there’s a strong arm wrapping around his waist, helping him to his feet. Part of Obi-Wan wants to feel mortified at his vulnerability, but mostly he just feels grateful.
He looks sideways at the, well not quite a boy, actually. He's young, yes, but at this proximity, Obi-Wan can see the hardness of his vaguely familiar features and the shallow lines around his blue eyes as they meet his own.
Obi-Wan licks his dry lips, “Th-”
“Later,” the man cuts him off with a smirk. The cadence of his voice, his eyes, his very being tickle a memory in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind, but, as they begin moving, the thought quickly falls away.
His body protests every step, every minute maneuver through the obsidian labyrinth; it’s all Obi-Wan can do to keep from slipping back under. The man at his side must to notice because his grip becomes firmer around Obi-Wan’s waist and he feels the shoulder supporting him dip a little lower. Again, he is struck with a sense of shame that hangs in the Force because he can't even conjure the strength to release it.
The stranger looks at him curiously, brow furrowed, lips pulled into a thin line. Then suddenly there’s a surge of warmth in the Force, washing over Obi-Wan’s uncertainties, so contrary to the dark presence emanating around them that it makes Obi-Wan gasp silently. And that warmth spreads throughout him, honey coating aching bones and protesting joints, filling him slowly with light. It’s the same power that brought him back from the brink of nothing, that lent him the strength to pick up that blaster.
Obi-Wan looks at the achingly familiar stranger who has returned his attention to getting them out. He wonders if the man even realizes what he’s doing.
As they near the opening of the cliffs, Obi-Wan finds himself sneaking glances to study the man- the focus in his brow, the stern set of his mouth, the fierce determination burning in his eyes as blue as the dawn of a scorching desert sky. And then it hits him all at once, memories from lifetimes long gone- of his master and a Sith, a queen and her handmaiden...
A boy in the desert.
“Anakin.” The name leaves his lips like a precious secret whispered in the dark; the moment it tastes the free air, the Force hums sweetly.
The man falters, eyes snapping to Obi-Wan, widening in surprise before narrowing in suspicion. “How do you-”
'DUCK!' The Force yells and Obi-Wan moves without thought, throwing himself to the ground and pulling Anakin with him, narrowly missing the blaster fire that crashes into the stone above them. Obi-Wan gasps for breath beneath the large body now crushing his own, but the discomfort is short-lived as Anakin rolls off, grabbing the blaster and returning fire. In the short lull between shots, Anakin grips Obi-Wan’s arm and drags him behind the nearest rocky cover.
“Kriff,” Anakin curses, leaning his head back on the cool stone, blaster pointing toward the blood red sky. Adrenaline floods Obi-Wan's weary body that's not his own; it makes his head spin and he finds himself collapsing against the rock with a pained grunt. Anakin takes a moment to look at him, concerned, before blaster fire pulls his attention once more.
Somewhere between ducking and shooting, Anakin is desperately pressing his comm.
"SR-16, this is Skywalker, can you read me?"
Nobody answers as another shot comes dangerously close to his face.
"Requesting immediate evac half a click south of the Fortress. Can anyone copy!?"
Again, there’s no reply.
“Sithspit!” Anakin hisses, just barely refraining from chucking the comm against the hard stone. The blaster fire is becoming more concentrated as troopers begin moving in and a sense of hopelessness plants itself in Obi-Wan’s chest. He should have known this was futile.
There’s no winning against the Empire.
“Don’t give up on me yet, pal,” Anakin implores, intercepting Obi-Wan’s line of sight with a half-cocked grin, “I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows, roughly clearing his sandpaper throat, “Then by all means, play them.”
Anakin snorts, taken back by Obi-Wan’s candid response. “Not till we have a way off this Force forsaken rock.”
Obi-Wan’s throat is on fire, dry and raw, but he pushes through the pain to ask, “How?”
“Don’t know yet,” Anakin shrugs, “but I’m open to suggestions.”
Then he’s twisting around to shoot over their cover, and there’s the tell-tale sound of bodies falling to the ground. Obi-Wan’s stomach lurches, his mind conjuring images of his own troops taking Anakin’s fire beneath those stark white helmets. He can’t help but wonder if any of these men had been part of his 212th. Were these enemies once the same comrades he’d trusted with his life?
A violent shift in the Force returns him from his thoughts- a forceful twist into darkness so overwhelming Obi-Wan closes his eyes against it.
Dooku.
Anakin's Force signature is erratic against the pressure of the Sith Lord, no doubt remembering how close he'd been to death under its control only a handful of minutes ago. Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, extending a reassuring hand to rest on Anakin's shoulder, and pushes every ounce of calmness he can manage through the Force. The effort of it almost pulls him under again, but he keeps himself upright, arm digging into the jagged rock. It seems to work, though, because Anakin’s breath is steady, eyes are more focused as he cautiously peers round the rocks, surveying the area more closely.
“Got it!” He exclaims, ducking back to safety as rubble blasts past his face. Obi-Wan looks at him questioningly. Anakin licks his lips and nods over his shoulder. “There’s a ship near the Fortress with its ramp down.”
Obi-Wan cranes his head to find the shuttle and frowns, “You want to steal Dooku’s cruiser?”
“I don’t- know who that is,” Anakin blinks, “but if that’s his ship, then yes.” He shrugs, “Unless you have a better plan?”
Obi-Wan sighs, shaking his head resignedly.
“Great, glad we’re on the same page. Now we only need a distraction of some kind.”
As if on cue, cliff sides behind them begin to crumble beneath Dooku’s fury. A dense cloud of black dust rises around them and hangs thickly in the air.
“That’ll work,” Anakin mumbles, arm automatically wrapping around Obi-Wan’s waist before quickly pulling him along. A few red blasts whiz around them, cutting through the cloud, but miraculously they miss each of them. Anakin leads them as though he knows exactly where to step despite not being able to see beyond his nose. Obi-Wan has no doubt it’s the Force guiding them as his feet stumble onto an uneven slope. Ahead of them looms the shadow of the dark fortress. They’re close.
“KENOBI!” Dooku’s fierce voice booms around them. Anakin, to his credit, keeps pace, but Obi-Wan can’t help but look over his shoulder. There’s a ruby red light cutting through the dust attached to a shadowed figure prowling closer to the mouth of the cliffs. Then, suddenly, the dust abruptly pulses back to the ground, putting them in full view of their enemies.
“Fuck.” Anakin breathes, slowly turning to face the troopers half surrounding them, blasters drawn. Anakin is forced to drop his blaster, raising his hands, prompting Obi-Wan to do the same, though his unsupported body teeters dangerously. The troopers are parted in the middle as Dooku marches closer, his rage closing around them, weighing them down.
Dooku laughs sadistically, “I commend you, Obi-Wan, on this valiant escape attempt-”
“Anakin...” Obi-Wan starts lowly.
“But surely you didn’t expect I’d actually allow you to succeed.”
“...about those tricks…”
Anakin inhales sharply.
“Buy me a sec, okay?” He whispers, almost inaudibly, arms dropping slowly to meet behind his back.
Obi-Wan daren’t look at what he was doing, lowering his own hands and keeping his eyes trained on the Sith Lord only a few saber’s length away from them.
“Of course not, Count,” he starts, lifting his chin defiantly as he grants Dooku his voice for the first time since his capture, “I’ve learned to expect nothing from you whatsoever.”
Dooku snarls, saber hand twitching. “Shame, Kenobi, I have so enjoyed our time together."
"Have you?" Obi-Wan laughs, pushing aside the burning pain if only to grant Anakin whatever time he can give him. "Because, if I'm being frank, Count, your last few visits have been rather... lackluster. I was beginning to think you'd finally given up on getting anything out of me."
"Oh, quite the contrary, I assure you." Dooku's snarl twists into a sick smirk. "You're not an easy man to break, Obi-Wan, but I do so enjoy the challenge. Not like the other Jedi I've hunted, they're all so weak and fall every so easily. It's pathetic."
"You flatter me, but surely I haven't been kept alive this long purely on your desire to be... 'challenged', was it? Which begs the question," Obi-Wan folds his hands in front of him and tilts his head curiously, "what will your Master think if you strike me down now?"
Dooku's smirk curls into a fully sadistic grin. "Who says I'm going to strike you down, Kenobi?" He takes a step closer, "After I dispose of this," he looks at Anakin with disgust, "rebel, I plan on taking you directly to my Master. He has been wanting a word with you for quite some time, you see, and, well, after this trouble you've caused, I see no reason to keep him waiting any longer."
Out of the corner of his eye Obi-Wan sees Anakin straighten his back, glaring at Dooku. His anger pours through the Force so strongly it pushes against Dooku's overwhelming presence. Dooku pauses, blinking at Anakin a moment before humming softly.
"Well now, what's this?" Dooku drawls, looking over Anakin again with renewed curiosity, "Perhaps my Master would be interested in meeting your little friend here as well."
Obi-Wan’s breath catches and he finds himself reflexively moving in front of Anakin. He refuses to let Anakin fall into the Siths' clutches. This is all his fault, and, kriff, even if Anakin’s plan, whatever that may be, goes off, there’s only an impossibly slim chance of escaping Dooku, close as he is. Obi-Wan needs to do something, but Force knows he has no idea what.
Something of the unbridled fear he feels must show on his face because Dooku's cruel laughter unfurls around them. Dooku's saber is still ignited, its angry bleeding crystal hums in gentle warning as its master slowly raises his free hand. The Force begins bending to his will around Obi-Wan- a familiar coldness encloses him, his body giving easily to its grasp. At his side he can feel Anakin going through the same, though his willpower is not as compliant as it had been before, fighting but not as strongly as Obi-Wan knows it could. It's as though its holding out for something else altogether.
Then a high pitched beeping begins ringing around them. Obi-Wan looks at Anakin who meets his gaze with a satisfied smirk. A half a second later several small explosions go off around the entrance to the cliffs, just where they'd been hiding minutes ago; the rubble buries most of the troopers below. Another small explosion goes off only a handful of feet in front of them, its blast throwing Dooku back downhill, and, just like that, his hold on them disappears and they're knocked onto their backs.
Obi-Wan pushes himself to his elbows in time to watch Dooku get back to his feet. The Sith lets out an animalistic growl, his intention pulsing clearly through the Force. He's set for vengeance, he's set to kill, orders be damned.
Later, Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to say what exactly compelled him to move in this moment, but something tells him to reach out. So he does. His reaches for Anakin, hand wraps tightly, painfully, around the other's bare wrist and he concentrates with everything he’s got on connecting with the Force. It floods into him so powerfully that he's almost drunk with it as he forces his attention to the Sith closing in on them. Then Dooku is lunging at them, and Obi-Wan holds out his hand and pulls.
Dooku’s saber wrenches free from its master’s grasp and flies into Obi-Wan’s, but Dooku is still in motion, his inertia too powerful to stop. As the Sith falls upon him, Obi-Wan rolls to the side, into Anakin’s outstretched arm. He feels the saber connecting with flesh as he goes, burning through skin and bone before powering down.
Dooku howls in pain and Obi-Wan watches in disbelief as the man clutches at the burning stump of his forearm. The smell of it lingers in the air, making Obi-Wan's stomach lurch.
Anakin jerks beneath Obi-Wan, who’s now half on his chest. Obi-Wan scrambles off, sitting back he lets go of Anakin’s wrist apologetically. Anakin gets to his feet holding his arm close to his chest as he stands. He looks between Obi-Wan and Dooku in horror, and Obi-Wan feels a deep well of shame rise within him. He doesn't understand why he reached for Anakin in the first place, harder yet to understand was why it had worked.
“Anakin,” he starts in a weak voice, “I-I’m-”
“Kenobi!” Dooku screams, cradling his arm as he gets to his knees. Obi-Wan’s frozen, eyes wide. His fingers are still clutched around Dooku’s saber, but without Anakin’s connection to the Force, he’s too weak to wield it. Too aware of his broken body, of how helpless he is to do anything but watch death get closer.
Then there’s a hand wrapped in the back of his tunic and he’s being pulled to his feet and pushed forward. His legs take him a handful of steps before giving out completely, ripping a scream from his raw throat. Anakin’s sturdy arm is around his waist again, only the man’s shoulder doesn’t stop beneath Obi-Wan’s. Instead, he feels it cutting him in half until he's lifted securely over Anakin’s shoulder. His ribs cry out in pain as everything that had been blocked by Anakin’s influence comes rushing back all at once.
He doesn’t know how they get to the platform, all he knows is that the ground is flat and there are shots being fired at them. Then they’re in the shuttle and he’s being unceremoniously dropped into a seat. His eyes clench tightly against the anguish rolling through his body as the ship jerks to life. He tries to calm his breathing, tries to reach out to the Force, but he's so weak.
He doesn’t register when the ship smooths into hyperspace until he’s gently rustled from his seat. His eyes flutter open to Anakin leaning over him. Obi-Wan is about to say something when a hand presses against his side and he flinches away with a sharp hiss.
“Sorry,” Anakin mumbles, stepping back. He gulps, eyes refusing to settle as he speaks, “I, uh, I figured you’d be more comfortable somewhere you could lie down.”
Obi-Wan slowly straightens in his seat. He wants to say something, to tell Anakin thank you and he’s sorry, and, yes, he would love to lie down, but his throat is closed, tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth and all he can get out is, “Water?”
Anakin nods fervently before stepping past him. Obi-Wan rests his head back and takes a few grounding breaths. They’re alive. They made it. He’s finally free.
Anakin reappears a few minutes later with a large glass of water that might as well be the nectar of the Force itself with the way Obi-Wan’s body wants to treasure each drop. The first touch of the liquid to his lips pulls a groan from him and he can’t help but tip the entire contents back, streams leaking from the corners of his mouth as he gulps it hungrily. When he’s finished, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and, oh dear, just how long is his beard now? His eyes wander to the man leaning on the control board in front of him.
Anakin’s arms are crossed as he watches Obi-Wan curiously. He tilts his head and grins softly, “Better?”
“Much,” Obi-Wan gasps, “thank you.” He pauses, searching Anakin’s eyes in the hopes of conveying his sincerity. “Truly, Anakin, I am forever in your debt.”
Anakin looks away bashfully, “It’s just water.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Anakin licks his lips, seemingly debating something with himself before turning his eyes back to Obi-Wan’s. “So you're really Obi-Wan Kenobi, huh?”
Obi-Wan blinks at the question. “I am.”
“Like, The Obi-Wan Kenobi?” Anakin asks again, probingly, “War General, Famed Negotiator,” Anakin pauses thoughtfully before adding, “Jedi Master?”
Obi-Wan frowns, leaning forward with his elbows on the arm rests, “The last I checked, yes.”
“Force,” Anakin sighs, running a hand down his face.
“I’m sorry, have I missed something?”
“No, I mean, well, it’s just,” Anakin furrows his brow, gnawing on his bottom lip as he tries to find the right words. Finally, he takes a bracing breath, blue eyes bearing into Obi-Wan’s, “We all thought you were dead.”
Obi-Wan’s starts to spin, his heart picks up, he blinks rapidly as he repeats Anakin’s words a couple more times in his head. “When you say ‘we’, you mean?”
“Everyone,” Anakin gulps, "the whole Galaxy."
Obi-Wan opens his mouth then closes it, his head is getting foggy, his body is heavy, blood rushing loudly in his ears.
Dead. Everyone thinks-
"General?" Anakin asks from what seems a great distance. "Obi-Wan?"
Dead.
With that, Obi-Wan's eyes roll back while his body falls forward, and his mind slips quickly into cool darkness.