Work Text:
For one second it was peaceful, the air hazy with smoke, ash falling as gently as snowfall. His ruptured ear drums couldn’t process most of the battle noise around him, like he was floating underwater. There were flashes of red and orange in the distance, lighting up the sky, outlining the skeletons of bombed-out buildings. What planet was he on? Couldn’t remember. Couldn’t.
A few moments ago, there had been a loud bang like a thunder crack then distant rumbles, followed by a high-pitched ringing in his ears, a persistent whine that was building into something else, something menacing. He should know what, but he couldn’t quite think. This was not good.
Obi-Wan looked to his left and saw Anakin through the haze, close by his side. Lit up golden by the light of a nearby fire with a face covered in ash, Anakin flashed him a dazed but toothy grin. There he was, as it should be, Obi-Wan’s Padawan, a knight now but just barely.
Something whizzed by Obi-Wan’s ear, and he felt it more than heard it. This was not good. A choice had to be made, and quickly. Speed was a luxury he didn’t have, not after the privations of a siege, endless fighting, so many sleepless nights. Exhaustion left him feeling like he was moving in slow motion. Making his choice, Obi-Wan reached out and threw Anakin out of harm’s way with everything he had left, letting the mortar explode where it fell. There was another impossibly loud bang followed by intense heat, and Obi-Wan flew, limbs cartwheeling, unable to catch himself.
If this had been a holonovel, Obi-Wan would have blissfully passed out at this point and woken up after the pain had passed, but Obi-Wan wasn’t so lucky. At this unhappy moment, he honestly thought he was maybe the least lucky human alive, but then again, he was alive... For now.
Flattened by the explosion, Obi-Wan lay still on the unforgiving ground, the searing agony of broken bones and crushed organs burning through him. He would have screamed, but he couldn’t make a sound. He couldn’t draw a breath, the air catching in his throat. He gasped and choked, tasting iron and smoke, and finally a breath came, weak, rasping, and tentative. He couldn’t die now. He needed to find Anakin. Centering himself, Obi-Wan concentrated all his effort on breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out. Without warning, A shadow loomed over him, then crouched down, a gentle hand brushing debris off his face.
“General!” Cody shouted, sounding so distant in Obi-Wan’s blown-out ears, the timber of his voice slightly frantic. Not good. Few things ruffled Cody.
“You’ll be ok. You’re alright,” Cody said, repeating it over and over like a prayer. He pushed hair and more ash out of Obi-Wan’s eyes.
“Cody,” Obi-Wan tried to say, but it came out more as a croak. “Anakin?” He tried to reach across their bond. Tried, but the Force didn’t answer.
“Shh. The boys’ll find him. Don’t talk. You’ll be ok,” Cody murmured, all whilst ripping open his tunics to look at his chest. Rude. “Medic!” Cody boomed.
Obi-Wan’s vision went dark around the edges, the ringing in his ears grew. He felt more people surround him and felt a stinging in his neck. After that, he was finally allowed to pass out.
Some ill-defined amount of time passed, and Obi-Wan found himself in the stage of semi-awareness that could be dreaming or could be the beginning of lucidity. He was floating, bobbing up and down with the rhythm of his breath. Bacta.
Be still, he thought, don’t panic. He allowed himself to just breath with the respirator, to find peace in the stillness and silence. There was no smoke, no ash, no blaster fire raining around him. Obi-Wan settled into the Force and reached out, finding Anakin. He too was in a peaceful unconsciousness, but alive, bobbing in his own tank. Reassured, Obi-Wan drifted and drifted, lost in the flows of the Force.
When he was aware again, he was somewhere else. It was a place he’d never seen before, a grimy warehouse or hanger that seemed to be underground. He tried to look down at himself but saw nothing. He was merely an observer in the Force, but why? Looking around, he spied another bacta tank in which a man floated. He looked closer. He came to the horrid realization that the man was himself.
He looked terrible. He was older, hair and beard long and unkempt, right arm and shoulder terribly burned, face lined and heavy with something more than just the weight of the years. But his hair…. Ugh.
Obi-Wan laughed to himself, feeling hysteria rise within him. Here he was, seeing some awful version of his future self, and he was worried about appearing unkempt. Hopefully they’d wake him up and pull him out of the tank at any moment, and he’d forget this whole thing.
Unfortunately, no healers came to his rescue, so he looked closer and felt himself inexorably pulled in like a tractor beam, till his consciousness was one with this unsightly version of himself. Obi-Wan gasped on the respirator, feeling the sting of the healing burns, the ache of abused joints. Worse than pain of any wound was the man’s mental state. His own unfortunate mental state.
Sorrow and weariness weighed him down, pulling him deeper into despair. His connection to the Force was murky and distant, broken by innumerous hurts. He flailed and thrashed in the tank, banged against the walls in a frantic attempt to escape. This couldn’t be real. Any second now, he’d wake up in his own, younger body and be safe. He didn’t belong here. This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t imagine anything that would cause that much grief.
A presence, dark and heavy, came into his mind, stunning him into stillness. He gasped and floated, trying to follow it to its source and saw a vision of something terrible. It was Anakin, face and body thickened and scarred almost unrecognizably by terrible burns, eyes glowing Sith yellow with malice, his mind empty of anything but hate and despair. This couldn’t be real. This was not his Padawan. It couldn’t be. This could never happen. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see a strange, black-haired woman trying desperately to sooth him. He couldn’t seem to understand what she was saying. This couldn’t be real.
Obi-Wan’s fingers reached for the edge of the tank, slipping off the cool metal until he finally caught hold and threw himself half out of it, heart pounding. He grabbed the respirator and ripped it out of his mouth, yelling something incoherent. He panted, his forearms digging into the metal edge, trembling with effort, and his vision filled with stars. Obi-Wan felt himself lifted out of the tank, and his consciousness started to fade.
Yellow eyes. He had to remember. Yellow eyes. What did it mean?
Released from the tank, he tried to clamber free, wet feet slipping on the smooth floor. Limbs as weak as a kitten’s, he slumped down as strong, wiry arms caught him. He caught a sense of frustrated fondness through the Force.
“This was dramatic even for you, wasn’t it Master Kenobi?” a familiar voice soothed as the being guided him to the floor. “Stop trying to hurt yourself. I don’t have the energy to heal you again.”
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and was blessed by the warm light of the healing halls and the annoyed, blue face of Vokara Che. Whatever memory he had of that strange place and his strange self started to fade.
“There you are,” she said, making eye contact. “Are you lucid yet?” she asked, studying his face for a brief moment, “No, not quite yet” she remarked cheerfully.
“Anakin,” he croaked, voice hoarse and painful.
“Your wayward former Padawan is just fine. He made out far better than you,” Vokara said, gesturing for another healer to come help her. “You can see him once your heart rate and blood pressure come down.”
Master Che and a Devronian healer gently lifted him by the armpits and guided him to a nearby cot. “You must take care. Your liver and spleen are still fragile. Your lungs have finally re-expanded,” she huffed, pulling a soft blanket over him. “Do you promise me to lay nicely while I get Knight Skywalker?”
“I’ll be as meek and mild as a nerfling,” Obi-Wan mumbled, eyelids feeling impossibly heavy.
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she snarked.
“You wound me,” he whispered, trying to stay awake. What was it that he was supposed to remember? It had seemed important.
“No, you do that quite well on your own,” she replied. “If there was a “Most frequent trips to the healers’ award, I’m afraid you would win that dubious recognition. If I’d had hair, you would have turned it grey by now,” she said with a smirk, lekku twitching as she walked out of the room.
The next time Obi-Wan opened his eyes, Anakin was sitting beside him. Recognition sparked within him. He needed to remember. “Anakin!” he remarked insightfully.
“It’s me,” Anakin said, grinning. “Is that all you have to say, Master? Aren’t’ you going to lecture me about something?”
“Anakin, I… There’s something…” Obi-Wan said, panting, heart racing. It had been something terrible. The thought was just on the edge of his memory. Why could he remember? He tried to push himself up out of the bed as his arms trembled and his insides ached. The blanket spilled to the ground, and he managed to get one leg off the bed. Maybe if he got out of here, he’d remember.
“Hey Master, there’s no need to panic,” Anakin said, gently pushing him back down and lifting his leg back onto the bed. “Master Che’s gonna kick me out if you get worked up.”
That sounded about right. “I saw something. Saw something awful,” Obi-Wan said, drawing his brows together in confusion. There was something yellow. Yellow and red. Bacta. A terrible sense of loss, grief unmeasurable and infinite.
“I don’t remember it. Not anymore. Yellow eyes. I remember yellow eyes. You were gone. You were gone somewhere I couldn’t follow,” Obi-Wan mumbled, the words spilling out of him. He was still muzzy from sedatives and pain killers.
Anakin gave him an indulgent smile, blue eyes warm and bright and squeezed his shoulder. A sense of love and well-being flowed through their bond. “You’re not making sense, old man. Just rest and try not to worry for a second. It was probably just a dream.”
“I need to remember, Anakin. You were gone,” Obi-Wan replied. He felt oddly bereft.
“I’m here,” Anakin replied, scooting his chair closer. Obi-Wan could feel the warmth of his presence and started to feel a little less lost. He was so tired. He needed to rest.
“I’m here, Master,” Anakin repeated, tucking the blanket under his chin. “You know I’d never leave you.”
Exhausted beyond comprehension, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and believed it, all bad dreams forgotten.