Chapter Text
This was the thing, Obi-wan thought, about recovery. It never felt like recovery.
Qui-gon had told him that years ago, and Dooku had told him that, and on and on and on and on and on. Stupid Jedi, stupid advice.
It was full of backslides, and speedbumps. Maybe you become a little bit different. The old version of you is dead, but that’s okay. You are still alive.
Alive like a clipped bird. Like a dog.
His feet were near silent on the smooth, smooth floors, the walk to his room seeming far longer than usual.
Alive like the two-beat thump of a heartbeat in a box.
A-live a-live a-live.
Stupid. Stupid fucking advice from someone who had only suffered in death, not in life. With every day of distance from his younger self, Obi-wan hated his master a little more. Couldn’t help it. His master didn’t understand anything. He wanted to reconvene with Qui-gon in the force just to shove the advice up his ass.
The last mission had been the last in a string of inexplicably terrible missions, and Obi-wan was over it all.
Torture he’d been prepared for. Interrogation, resilience, the release of emotion into the Force. Easy. Like a cold shower. Miserable at first, then familiar. Oh hello cold. My skin has missed you. Same thing with pain. Hello pain. I’ve missed you, though a bit less than the cold, I’m afraid. And then gone into the Force. Dismissed.
Violation, assault, pleasure; he had no defense against these.
It wasn’t like he’d been caught very long. Three weeks? A month? Maybe a month and a half?
It should have been straightforward. The mission had come from high up.
Obi-wan was to go undercover to a known separatist base on Enarc and collect intel on Vizier Marath Vooro. There were whispers that though his planet was part of the trade federation, he refused to cooperate with separatist or republic forces alike. Obi-wan needed to determine where his allegiance lay, and then report to the council with the hope that Vooro would ask for help expelling separatist forces.
The council had planned the mission, given him the details, and set up his cover. He’d simply read the data pads they’d given him, researched the base and the planet, his cover identity, and set out within one standard rotation. He’d done it a million times in this blasted war. So how had it gone so badly?
When Obi-wan jumped from hyperspace his ship was seized by a magnetic ray poised to pick him up at his jump coordinates. He’d played it as smoothly as he could, portraying first surprise, then indignation, and, as they ignored his credentials, the rage of a slighted trader, which could be substantial. His act had crumbled though when they’d boarded his craft outfitted in protective equipment, and gas had started pouring in. He’d started to reach for his breathalyzer with one hand, still protesting the validity of his trade, when the tallest droid stepped towards him.
“Obi-wan Kenobi,” it had said, tendrils of white fog reaching around it. “I see our men deliver on their promises.”
He’d been made. He’d frozen, then snapped his lightsaber into position, slapping the breathalyzer over his nose and mouth. It was quick work to dismantle the surrounding droids, and he was surrounded by metal bits in an instant. He left one standing for intel, though it only regarded him, the red blinking on its head slowly becoming the only thing he could see. Obi-wan took a step forward with saber raised threateningly, then swayed on his feet.
“Our new chemical structure is more sophisticated. Unfortunately, that mask,” the droid waved its hand, “will not be sufficient.”
Obi-wan had blinked, then blinked again as the information sunk in. His eyes started to burn as if the droids words had allowed him to notice it, his vision starting to blur and flicker, and he lunged forward with a shout, slicing the droid in half, then lunged for the control board, meaning to jump to hyperspace once more.
Stupid stuck-dead button.
The magnetic ray was solid. The ship didn’t move, couldn’t move, and Obi-wan clasped the control board in a white knuckled grip, desperate to stay on his feet. He felt his throat start to close. Despite himself, Obi-wan crumpled to the floor, his eyes snapping shut against the chemical onslaught, lungs jerking, trying to cough, but without the strength to do so. He curled up in the twisted, sparking metal bits he’d left, and his muscles had started to twitch and seize. He slapped at his comm in a last desperate attempt to contact the council, but his fingers were beyond his control. Stupid frozen fingers.
Then blackness. A cell. Grating, painful consciousness.
His head had ached something fierce upon waking, whether from banging it against the ground when he fell, or from the gas that had taken him, he was unsure. His hands were chained behind him to a hook on the wall. He lay back pressed against it, and had been there for some time, going by the ache in his shoulders. He lay on a mat that did little to insulate from the cold damp of the stones themselves. Better than nothing. He’d been dressed in a black linen tunic and pants, a long cloak draped over his shoulders, feet bare, ice-cold.
He looked around as best he could, meaning to get a sense of his surroundings and start planning his escape. He seemed to be chained in a stone room, iron bars making a gate on the far side of the prison. He only had a couple feet of chain. If he stretched out along the ground as far as he could get, arms above his head, his toes were still a good arm’s length away from the bars. The same went for the other walls, though there was a toilet within reach, ceramic and clean and jarringly shiny. It was dark, lit only by a single strip of red along the far side of the cell along the bars. Obi-wan could barely make out the start of an unlit corridor outside of his cell. The cell itself was surprisingly well kept, though the smell of antiseptic was almost overwhelming. When he focused on the corners, he could still see grime where the scrub brushes hadn’t reached, filth slowly creeping up the bars and the edges of his room, as if someone was trying to keep the place in good shape and failing.
It was shockingly archaic, with none of the jedi safeguards Obi-wan was used to escaping from. He scrunched his brow. They were either foolish or far more sophisticated in their security than anticipated. He reached for the force and immediately doubled over, a blinding pain shooting through his head, nausea dragging up his esophagus.
Drugged. Force inhibiting, obviously. Sophisticated, then.
He grit his teeth in frustration. He’d dealt with inhibitor cuffs before but hadn’t had the displeasure of a drug clever enough to effectively hinder his connection with the force with any real success.
Who were these people?
Had it not been for the cleanliness of his cell and his surroundings, he would have felt like this place was completely abandoned. The darkness outside was not reassuring. He couldn’t use the force to check, so it was technically possible that someone was watching him, perched just outside of his circle of light. The thought was disturbing. And unlikely. So, Obi-wan turned his neck as much as he was able to look at the handcuffs on his wrists.
It had started shortly after that.
Well now, a month or two later, he knew that Enarc was absolutely a known separatist base, the leader Vooro, had, in fact been killed, they now ran a human trafficking ring from the planet’s underground.
All of these were facts he’d reported flat-faced and airily to the council less than an hour ago.
Obviously, Obi-wan made sure all the men were safe and undergoing treatment before he crept away to his rooms to assess his own injuries. The rescue mission had gone quite smoothly, he’d been told. Obi-wan was just grateful to be rescued while in non-compromising position. Anakin and Ahsoka were occupied now, and Obi-wan had essentially ran back to his room after the debrief. Oh, the sweet blessings, of a messy, messy mission. Obi-wan would never wish anything bad on the clones who’d come to rescue him, but he certainly would take advantage of their harried state to avoid further scrutiny.
He had to avoid the halls of healing at all costs. A full examination would be detrimental. He knew the damage was significant.
It’s just flesh, he told himself, just blood, just pain. Hello, pain.
The door to his room slid open, the same as always, silent and smooth, sleek and welcoming as ever.
Everything in his chambers was the same as he’d left it. Dishes stacked on the dish rack, long since dried, data pad resting on the side table beside his sofa, with a basket of cleaned Jedi apparel he hadn’t had the chance to put away. It was all so orderly. Civilized. Safe. His feet halted on the mat and he looked down at himself. He was post battle, post disgusting, and he toed his shoes off in a rush.
He marched himself to the fresher, stripping off his sullied robes as he did so and stepped into the water. He could burn them after.
He didn’t look at himself. He didn’t look at his body as he scrubbed it. He turned the water hot, but not too hot. He cleaned himself with soap and a washcloth, but he didn’t press too hard, or make his skin raw. He washed his hair with a practiced, gentle, familiar touch.
Ah routine, he thought, I love you.
He had to make it the same as always. So, he stepped out after 3 and a half minutes, though he didn’t quite feel done languishing in the warm water, snatched a nice white towel off the rack, and dried off.
Next order of business, post mission patch up. In this case it had to be done. He’d love to ignore it, but he was in too much pain to sleep soundly, and that was what he wanted. Ignore everything until after he’d slept. He’d be stronger after resting. He’d be smarter after sleeping. Calmer, cooler, safer, taller, bigger, cleaner, better.
Stu-pid, stu-pid, a two beat thump.
He focused his attention on the things that hurt the most. The burns on his forearms were first to be treated, and he felt a certain tension drop from his shoulders once that pain that had been a near constant companion had finally faded. Next, he wrapped his ankle, spread bacta on the bruises around his left eye, and the laceration under his lip in hopes that the numbing effect would stop him from working at it with his tongue. The taste of iron would soon overwhelm the taste of his tea. Couldn’t have that.
Everything else was background noise. Headache, fatigue, pained joints, bruises; these would all fade without treatment. As it was, his pain had dimmed enough that he felt he’d be able to sleep tonight. Perhaps for more than just a night.
And now the routine shifted. He didn’t think he was torn, but he knew he was sore. Some hadn’t been gentle. There were two choices available: Obi-wan could either weather the reminder of what had happened with each step he took for the next week, or he could treat it himself right now. Plus, if he left it untreated, there was a chance someone could notice his stilted steps and worry for him. Or worse, he could get some kind of infection and he would need to be treated anyways. It was no choice, really.
Jaw clenched, Obi-wan sent his mind away and reached behind himself and spread the bacta where he felt the pain. The relief was instant, and he spread it generously around the whole area.
Disgusting.
When he was done, he stepped into a clean set of sleeping clothes, then sent a message to Anakin so he didn’t worry.
Anakin. I have returned to my quarters to rest. I apologize for the abrupt exit, but I can assure you that I have been treated for my injuries. I shall see you tomorrow at the full debrief.
He stared at the message for too long. Was it too formal? Too informal? Should he thank him?
Obi-wan had already thanked him. Hadn’t he? He was certainly thankful Anakin wasn’t here right now. Maybe he should thank him for that.
He sent the message then threw the comm onto his couch, then marched into his room and collapsed on his bed, eyes already drifting shut.
........................
Obi-wan, unsurprisingly, slept very little. His subconscious mind hadn’t taken well to lying down, and though he could feel in the force the calm and peace of other sleeping lifeforms around him, he still tensed at every shift. He faced the door and kept finding himself expecting company.
He had blankets wrapped around himself, and for once he felt warm. But rather than comfort, he found himself feeling like he was suffocating. His dreams had turned from warmth to heat, a hot spark of arousal, a kind, murmuring voice brushing against his ear in soft whispers instead of the cruel harsh raised voices he was used to.
He woke screaming, half hard in his sleeping pants, and after tossing for a while longer, he went to the gardens instead.
The sun was barely up, and Obi-wan preferred it that way. He knew what he looked like, and he didn’t want anyone else to see him until he felt more in control of himself. So he did what he always did. He sat in a quiet, empty, corner, settled himself right in a ray of sunshine just creeping in between the leaves of a lemon tree far above, and turned his face upwards, searching for quiet.
He supposed he must’ve found peace enough, for when he opened his eyes, he found himself leaning fully back against the tree, woken from a shadow passing across his vision. It took him a moment, but he squinted upwards, blinking against the sun that was well into the sky by now. Anakin stood in front of him, face barely visible against the halo of light.
“Obi-wan? What are you doing here?”
Obi-wan felt rather clumsy as he stumbled to his feet, dragging a hand across his face in a dismal attempt to straighten hair and beard. His mouth must’ve been at least a little open while he slept because his mouth was sour and dry. He was a little relived it was only Anakin finding him like this. Embarrassing.
“Anakin! Fancy seeing you here. I was simply-“
“I woke you.” Obi-wan shifted on his feet, then met Anakin’s eyes which drilled into his own. He dropped his gaze. “Why aren’t you in your quarters, master? It’s still early enough, and you’re in no shape to be doing anything other than sleeping through the night.” Anakin crossed his arms.
There was a pause. Obi-wan’s jaw worked for a moment. “I was worried about the men and couldn’t sleep,” he settled on, “so I came to meditate.”
Anakin quirked a brow. “Then fell asleep? The men are fine. I told you that last night.” There was a pause as Anakin waited for a response, but Obi-wan had nothing to say. The corner of Anakin’s mouth turned down.
“I also had time to check the patient check ins for the halls of healing last night.”
He didn’t need to say anything more. They both knew Obi-wan hadn’t gone.
Anakin’s hands clenched. “Obi-wan, you need to rest! You need to give yourself time to heal! I’ve patched you up a bunch of times, you could have asked me to-“
“No!”
Anakin startled, flinching back a little bit, hurt flickering across his expression.
“No, I mean, it wasn’t, it isn’t necessary. I appreciate the offer Anakin, but really it has all been taken care of.” He tried to soften his voice and gave Anakin a weak smile. His hand twitched towards Anakin’s shoulder as if to comfort, but he quickly aborted the movement, clenching his fingers back into a fist. Anakin wouldn’t want him to touch him.
Anakin looked confused, then his gaze became more inquisitive, eyes narrowing, head tilting. He leaned forward just a tad, then his full focus was on Obi-wan, prodding gently at the edges of his shielding, examining him. People often underestimated Anakin’s intelligence, seeing him more as a weapon of mass destruction to be aimed rather than a precise instrument of war. Anakin was certainly just as impulsive and powerful as people said, but the reason his improvised plans tended to work was because he was clever, skilled, and more discerning than he was given credit for. And he could use his power with those traits. When he wanted to know something, he would. And he already knew Obi-wan better than anyone else did.
“What’s wrong?”
Anakin hadn’t asked ‘is there something wrong’ or ‘are you alright.’ Anakin had already decided that there was something wrong, beyond the obvious post mission stress. He was right, obviously, but it was frustrating sometimes, to be known so well. Denial wouldn’t get Obi-wan anything but suspicion. Obi-wan was no fool; he knew Anakin was insatiable. He’d have to feed him something.
Obi-wan kept his expression implacable, then made a show of allowing some tension to creep across his forehead, vulnerability to creep into the shape of his lips. Then he sighed and glanced at his feet, hoping he looked as exhausted as he felt.
“I am not as well as I could be, but you know that. It was a hard mission.” He dropped his shoulders a little more, chancing a glance back up. The hardness in Anakin’s face had already melted into sympathy. “I suffered at the hands of my captors, as you know. You saw the reports. Nothing that I haven’t suffered before,” a lie, “ but I am having difficulty recovering from it this time around. I’d rather hoped that I was done being captured and tortured.” A sardonic note crept into his voice against his will. “Ventress, then Zygerria, Zigoola and the war in between. I’m tired of it.” Anakin looked surprised at the words, eyes widening slightly. Obi-wan cringed inwardly; he hadn’t expected to speak so bluntly. He never really admitted weakness, and here he’d brought up other examples besides this recent mission that kept him up at night.
Well, that truth would certainly be enough to make Anakin believe Obi-wan had opened to him.
“Obi-wan, you’ve done so much, and you’ve been through a lot, more than almost every other jedi here.”
Obi-wan squinted. “ Now that’s not-“
“And you need to take time to recover from these things. You can go see the mind healers, you can talk to me, or Quinlan, or Master Yoda,”
“It’s been less a day since I got back! I am fine, but-“
“But you can’t expect these things to just go away on their own. The reason you’re so tired is because you haven’t given yourself any time to process! You’ve been bottling all this away to deal with later. Master, you’ve been tortured, multiple times, and you don’t even let yourself sleep! How can you expect to feel any better if-“
“I’m tired because I’ve been captured for a month! There is a war on, if you haven’t noticed, so I can hardly have-“
Anakin was frustrated again, his shoulders tense, stepping closer, looming over Obi-wan. “You have time off now! You have at least a month and a half until our next joint mission, so you can lean on friends and other people to be-“
Obi-wan stopped hearing him. Instead, there was a shadow in front of him, looming angrily, hands reaching. Obi wan stepped back wordlessly, trembling. It was cold down here. He stretched his hand out to fight them off, if need be. Not enough, never enough to change anything. Don’t fucking touch me.
………………..
Anakin’s words stumbled to a halt out of his throat as Obi-wan paled then stepped back, a shaky hand extended towards him. Fending him off.
What?
Obi-wan’s eyes were distant. Anakin swallowed his surprise, then released the tension from his own shoulders and took a step back. He’d seen this before in clones, however subtle, though he’d never expected a reaction like this from Obi-wan. He raised his hands in front of him.
“Master. I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you.”
Obi-wan blinked, then cringed. His shoulders straightened and he visibly shook himself.
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped icily.
Anakin sighed, feeling a little guilty. Now was clearly not the time to be admonishing Obi-wan about his lack of self care. It wasn’t like him to lash out. He felt silly now. It had only been a day.
Anakin had followed his force signature here to try to bring him to the halls of healing, but he quickly abandoned that train of thought.
Anakin waited for Obi-wan to say something else, but the silence stretched, Anakin watching Obi-wan, Obi-wan watching his feet.
“Obi-wan?”
“I apologize.” Obi-wan wrangled up a very forced smile. It came out as a grimace. “I’m tired.”
“It’s alright.” Anakin made his voice as soothing as he could. “It’s fine. Come. I’ll make you a cup of tea and we can get you to sleep. You clearly need it.”
Obi-wan’s head shot up. “No, I’m fine.”
“Okay, well I’m not fine. I’m bored. You missed the debrief this morning and I had to stand in front of the council all by myself. I can only go over so much digitized evidence before I get tired of Mace glaring at me.” Anakin expected Obi-wan to correct him as he had so many times. Master Windu, Anakin, when will you learn respect? But Obi wan didn’t react. Anakin crinkled his brow and tried again.
“Watch a holofilm with me. I’ll make us tea.” Anakin felt quite sure that Obi-wan would fall asleep watching a movie anyway. Some rest was better than none. Anakin stepped to the side and gestured with his arm for Obi-wan to walk ahead of him. Obi-wan stared at him for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze, then walked past him, eyes still aimed down. Anakin followed close behind.
…………………..
“Sit down and choose a movie. I’ll put the kettle on.” Anakin ushered him onto the couch, moving some laundry and spare droid parts out of the way. “And don’t worry, I have your dumb peppermint tea here, and am fully capable of making an ‘adequate cup,’ as you say.” Anakin glanced over his shoulder as he rifled through his cabinet, but Obi-wan didn’t respond to his quip, again ignoring the bait. Obi-wan was very particular about his tea, and it was very rare that he didn’t micromanage Anakin at least a little bit during the process.
Anakin walked back over to the couch. Obi-wan was staring at the remote in his hand. Eyes far away.
Anakin sat gingerly beside him, and Obi-wan took a sharp inhale and lifted his head. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Obi-wan sighed. “Sorry, it seems my mind is elsewhere.”
“It’s fine. Here just,” Anakin took the remote from his hand, turned on the screen, selected a service, then handed the remote back to Obi-wan. “Choose something. Whatever you want. Something happy, alright? I’m in the mood for something happy.” Obi wan looked to him and gave him a smile that was a little bit real.
“Do you want the movie about the gundarks?”
Anakin snorted as the kettle went off and he got to his feet to silence it. “I’ve seen enough gundarks, I think.”
He poured the water into the two mugs he had prepared and brought them over, placing them onto the coffee table.
Obi-wan glanced down at them. “Where are your coasters?”
Anakin settled beside him on the couch, pulling a blanket from over the armrest. “I don’t have any.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I hate them. And this is my house. And I don’t like making drinking tea more difficult than it has to be.”
Obi-wan rolled his eyes, but still smiled slightly. “You’re more difficult than you have to be.”
“You’re making choosing a movie more difficult than it has to be. No ‘thank you for the tea, Anakin’? Where are your manners, master?”
“Thank you for the tea, Anakin.” Obi-wan smiled at him, though it faltered a little bit, and Obi-wan reached for the tea and wrapped his hands around it. The movie he’d selected started playing.
Anakin scooted a little closer to Obi-wan, pressing their legs together a little bit. Anakin was a touchy person with the people he loved. Padme and Ahsoka were easy. Obi-wan was more difficult because he didn’t allow himself things he deemed frivolous, such as physical contact, at least not in the way his girls did. But he’d gotten used to it, Anakin thought proudly. Today, though, Obi-wan’s jaw tensed at the touch, and as he reached for his tea, he subtly scooted away. Anakin probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been watching him intently, but he was.
Anakin sighed.
“How bad was it, master?” Obi-wan looked at him.
“How bad was what?”
“Don’t fucking do that. Don’t be obtuse. You know exactly what I’m asking. And after Zigoola you had nightmares for weeks. We can’t keep doing this.”
“We, as you say, are not doing anything. We are having a movie and drinking tea. The rest of it is par for the course. I have recovered from many things, I will recover from this, and, I’m sure, I will need to recover from much more in the future. We are jedi, Anakin. It was as to be expected from an organization of that sort. Stop pressing.”
There was a long silence.
“I will simply need some time. Is that alright with you?” His tone was sarcastic and Anakin couldn’t help but feel his hackles raise defensively.
“Yeah. Fine. Sorry," he bit out.
The movie started.
Chapter Text
Obi-wan woke the next morning when the sun was high. Well, he opened his eyes. He hadn't really been sleeping in the first place. He stared at the ceiling. It was confusing to be here.
He felt frustrated, angry, but mostly tired. He was tired of trying to block things out. Tired of trying to move on. This war was asking too much of them all. It was lucky he was usually so hatefully, blessedly, busy. Distraction was glorious. Only today he was too tired be distracted.
There is a small black box of a room in his mind where he puts everything he doesn’t want to think about. The pitch walls there are polished to a shining gleam. His arms span the width of the room, and three steps take him to the end of it. There are handles to drawers in the walls, and though they never open, that’s where all his memories live. The polished floor is silent under his feet, and though there is no light source, the gleam is enough to see by.
Everything he despises he files away with a false deliberateness as if to be revisited later. Sometimes, his filing system doesn’t work, and things start to overflow. Then there is mud on the floor. In that case, he imagines himself scraping it out, scraping it off, so the room is just black. Not dirty, not mucky, not thick or putrid. Just black. Smooth. Fledgling clean.
It is a maintenance he must do, this sloughing away of the shit on the ground. It is more of a redirection of his thoughts than a purging of real filth- he imagines himself digging, rubbing away at the accumulations rather than examining them closely. Once the room is clean enough, he opens his eyes and moves on with his day. It works most of the time; mental exercise allows him to redirect himself and, eventually, move on. He’s trained himself this way for years. He throws it all away to be released into the force.
You must not lament, padawan. There is nothing in the past worth revisiting. You can only move forward, press onward.
His visualization method had been useless during his capture. He’d needed to survive, not purge, so it seemed pointless. But now, releasing his emotions to the force seemed ridiculous. Another useless piece of “guidance.”
He lay in bed at night wading through it, scooping up handfuls of it, turbid between his fingers. The chords in his neck flexed as eyelids fluttered, hands twitching to fling muck away. But instead, he found his nose rubbed in it, eyes wide open to examine every detail.
He didn’t sleep at night, but replayed, re-lived, swallowed down what had happened with mouth wide open, tongue bitter-black
Suffice to say he hadn’t slept again.
The first days back are always the worst, he thought. He’d always recovered before, would recover again. Always.
He rolled over and put his feet on the floor, wincing, muscles sore from the fight. Had it really only been two days? He hadn’t held a lightsaber upon his release, but Obi wan hadn’t needed it. The relative stagnation had allowed him to plan for that moment, and his opponents hadn’t seen it coming.
He sat on the edge of the bed, stirring about within himself for the will to face the day. He couldn’t remember what he had planned, but he didn’t want to yet, so he stared at his hands where they rested on his bare knees.
His blinds were pulled down, and gray light filtered in around the edges, illuminating the room far more than he thought it should. Last night’s clothes were scattered on the floor where he’d left them after returning from Anakin’s apartment. A cup of cold tea sat on the bedside table where he’d left it after deciding he didn’t feel like sitting up to drink it. The bag was still in, slimy and soggy. Obi wan leaned over to peer at it. There was a thin film on the surface from the little bit of milk he’d added.
His com sat on the table, nearly dead. He hadn’t wanted to charge it, but he sighed, knowing he needed to. He reached and picked it, selecting the first contact.
8 missed messages:
Cody (Yesterday 2200hrs): Commander, as you have been indisposed, I am to tell you that you are to report for a full debrief at 0800hrs with the Jedi council.
Cody (0700hrs): Sir, the men wish to meet with you before the meeting at 0745hrs to prepare.
Cody (0747hrs): Missed call.
Cody (0755hrs): Missed call.
Cody (0802hrs): Missed call.
Cody (0845): Sir we’ve given the debrief to the best of our ability in your absence and contacted the healer you’ve been checking in with to follow up with you. The council was very understanding and has ordered more rest for you due to the circumstances of your capture.
Cody (0945): Sir, upon discovering that you were never checked-in to the halls of healing as previously discussed, it is my responsibility as 2IC to locate you and bring you in for proper care or a proper debrief.
Cody (Private message 0946hrs): Obi-wan, I am worried for you. You missed all of yesterday’s duties and todays too. Master Skywalker let us know that he saw you yesterday, but I am on my way to your chambers now to discuss.
Fucking karking bantha- he glanced at the time, 1000hrs exactly, and swore again as there was a muffled thump on the outside door, muted by the second set of walls between them.
“Just a moment,” he called, scrambling clumsily to his feet. Kark but his head hurt. He slithered into the fresher to hastily scrub his face, then scurried into his clothes. The dirty ones from the floor.
Another muted knock. “Obi wan?”
“Just a minute!” Obi-wan snapped. Everyone wanted a piece of him, christ.
The snarl on his face was ugly as he looked in the mirror, and it was with some surprise that he took a quick breath in and let his expression go lax.
He nodded once. It would do.
He stepped out and marched out to his main chambers to open the door, stepping over gear he hadn’t put away, dishes scattered from his abrupt departure last month.
That was fine, it was only a little bit more disorderly than usual. He needed to focus on avoiding the halls of healing, not on the more disheveled than usual state of his rooms.
He took a breath, then flicked the switch that opened the door. It slid open far too easily. Cody stood in the corridor, helmet braced against his hip, eyes unbearably sympathetic. Obi-wan felt his eyes narrow, then whirled away from him.
“Cody. Good to see you commander, come in.”
“General.” His voice was hesitant. Obi-wan grit his teeth. How much had Anakin told him? Obi-wan knew it wasn’t like him to shirk his duties to hide away in his admittedly deteriorating apartment, but the general concern everyone felt was starting to feel stifling. And it had only been a couple days. He didn’t respond.
Cody took the silence as his cue. “You missed the meeting this morning.”
Obi-wan tried to keep his tone light. “Obviously. Or else I would have been there. Care for a cup of tea while you’re here, commander?” He kept his back turned.
The scraping of a chair almost made Obi-wan flinch, and a coil of anger flicked hot in his belly. He needed to calm down, he wasn’t some damsel in distress! Cody sat in the chair he’d pulled out.
“A cup of tea would be good. Do you have the cinnamon brew from last time?”
Obi-wan relaxed himself. “Yes, that is a good choice. I will have the same, I think.”
He set the kettle on to boil, and started to prepare the tea, meticulously settling the loose leaf into the steeper, scraping the ceramic mugs along the countertop, pulling out spoons, and cream and sugar, arranged everything precisely, taking far far too long to prepare when finally Cody spoke. Obi-wan almost jumped again.
“It’s ready. Now sit.” Obi-wan stilled his superfluous motions and hunched over the countertop for a moment, hands braced on the edge, elbows straight. Then he huffed and turned around, their gazes finally crossing. They both glared at each other, a silent battle of wills until Obi-wan acquiesced, then sat down across from Cody. It was a bad choice. There was no way to avoid his gaze from across the table, and Obi-wan watched his eyes flick across all of him.
“Why did you miss the meeting? You’ve missed the last several days, yet you haven’t visited the halls of healing. You do not look well, General.”
Obi-wan looked away. He decided to start casual. “I am tired. I simply need some rest. As you know,” he put a tiny bit of bite into his tone here, “I was captured. You’ve always needled me to take better care of myself, and here I am doing just that and you criticize me for it.” He tried to say it a little bit jokingly to soften his words. It didn’t really work.
Cody shook his head. “I’m not a fool, Obi-wan. If you were anybody else, I would be glad that they were taking time off. But I know you. You don’t take time off! You don’t visit the halls unless you are unconscious or inches from death. Even if this is you actually taking time off to rest, one look around this place would say otherwise. And at you! Dirty clothes, dirty hair, and you’ve just gotten up!”
The word dirty sat funny when it came from someone else’s lips. The kettle chose that moment to sing, and Obi-wan stood abruptly.
“I don’t know what Anakin has told you, but I am fine. I am moving well, though admittedly a bit sore, but nothing more than a usual training session would muster, alright? I just want some space after the last mission. It was all very,” he flailed for a moment, “much, too many people, and if I wish to languish in filth,” he waved a hand about, “then I would appreciate it if you let me.”
Cody rolled his eyes. “It’s hardly filthy. Maybe for you, but you should see the barracks sometimes. Last night everyone aired out their kit after the battle.” He shook his head, mouth pursed and stared at the table, and Obi-wan couldn’t help the little grin that tugged on his lips. He poured the two mugs and set one in front of Cody, sitting across from him again.
“Maybe this will help get the stench out of your nose.” Cody looked up at him as the steam wafted across his face.
“I doubt it.” They both smiled indulgently and drank their tea. There was a long silence as they both warmed their hands.
“Obi-wan, I just want to make sure you’re alright. You were supposed to see a healer and you didn’t, you are acting very uncharacteristically after a mission like that, I just think that-“
Obi-wan raised a hand to hush him. “I will be fine, Cody. Though, after today I think I will ask for a bit of a sabbatical from the duties of Jedi Council.” Cody’s eyebrows flicked up in surprise.
“Oh! Well, alright, I didn’t know you could do that. Are you sure that’s for the best? I support whatever you think is best, but it just doesn’t seem like you.”
“Only temporarily. And I think they’d prefer that to my no shows.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Cody said uncertainly.
Obi-wan’s gaze fell to his tea. “Could you tell the men I apologize? I didn’t mean to leave you all hanging this morning I just-“
“It’s already done. They all wish you a speedy recovery.”
Obi-wan met Cody’s gaze again, General and Commander. He sighed.
“I will keep in contact about how everything is going, I believe several weeks off will be just what I need, and then we will start mission briefings once more for the excursion to Dagobah.” Cody’s gaze hardened, back straightening ever so slightly.
“Sounds good, general. I will pass it on to the men.”
“Thank you.”
They sipped at the tea until it was gone. There was little to say.
Cody already knew what to do.
…………………….
Obi-wan hoped to go back to his bedroom after Cody left, but was instead interrupted. He managed to get a full shower before Ahsoka stopped by to visit since she hadn’t seen him after the battle. Ahsoka, bless her soul, was unable to pick up on his subtle cues to get her to go, and they ended up having lunch together at Dex’s. Really, it was good for him to get out, he thought. Maybe. At least he was presentable, and Ahsoka looked at him the same way she always had. It made him smile.
They returned and Ahsoka said her goodbyes and went off to meet Anakin for training. Obi-wan had just started to settle down again when Quinlan stopped by. It was brief; Obi-wan managed to keep him at the threshold, stating that he was just going to try to get more rest, which was true. The noise was starting to be too much, and Obi-wan could feel a headache coming on.
It still felt so weird to be out. It was jarring to be shoved back into his regular life like nothing had happened. As far as anyone knew, this was all relatively standard. He was tired, but would be ready to go again just as he always was. Just like he always had been.
He sat down on his couch and turned off the lights to relieve the throbbing in his skull. The wall was beautifully blank. All he’d done today was go for lunch. Why was he so exhausted? It was like he was feeling everything all at once, but his anger cancelled his joy, cancelled his fatigue, cancelled his motivation, leaving him feeling not numb, but a strange kind of nothing-hum. It was a restlessness that stuck him to his couch, cursed his feet still and his heart racing.
He jolted to a sudden knock at his door, then berated himself for flinching.
“Obi-wan!”
Windu. He hunched over and rubbed his fists in his eyes. Windu was the very last person he wanted to see.
“Ah master Windu!” He called from the couch, voice slightly muffled from where his hands still covered his face. “A pleasant surprise.”
“It would be more pleasant if we spoke from the same side of the door,” came the distant, slightly disgruntled reply.
Obi-wan sighed and slowly got to his feet. Unstoppable force meets movable object, he thought, as he shuffled towards the door.
Again, it slid open silently. Obi-wan belatedly flicked on the lights, and Windu blinked at him as they came on.
“Obi-wan, I was informed you wish to take a leave of absence by your second in command.” So, no pleasantries then. There was faint disapproval in his tone. Obi-wan wasn’t sure if it was because he’d passed on the message indirectly, or because he was stepping down in the first place. Probably both.
“Only temporarily,” he assured, plastering a smile onto his face. “This last mission was difficult for me, which I know you understand,” he said pointedly.
Windu nodded. “Of course. Though if you are to take time off, I will need you to follow the proper procedures that Jedi usually do with this kind of request.”
He meant the halls of healing. Before a leave, it was policy to have a physical checkup, and after a potentially traumatic mission, to schedule several appointments with mind healers as well.
Obi-wan scowled, then tried to hide it.
“Surely that isn’t necessary. My body is healing just fine, and I’ve been on far worse missions.”
“That doesn’t mean this mission wasn’t difficult. You know as well as any other Obi-wan. We need you, and we need you to be healthy. These appointments are necessary and you know that. This isn’t a request; it’s an order.
Obi-wan’s false pleasantness fell from his face.
“And I know you.” Windu smiled wryly. “You don’t take breaks. If you’ve chosen to step down, it means you need some help.”
Obi-wan didn’t say anything, fearing he would snap back angrily, which wasn’t like him. And wouldn’t look good. He felt so brittle, like every little thing could set him off. He clenched his jaw instead.
Windu raised an infuriating eyebrow. “I’ll leave you alone after this, Obi-wan, I know you aren’t happy to see me-“
“How’d you ever figure that?” Obi-wan bit out sarcastically. Windu chose to ignore it.
“-But I need you to promise me that you will visit the healers and put yourself back together.”
Put himself back together? He wasn’t fucking in pieces right now. He wasn’t a disaster, he was standing and talking and capable of putting on this fake ass smile right now. Windu had fucking nerve to come into his home, call him a mess, the audacity-
Windu looked at him expectantly and Obi-wan realized he’d missed something.
“What?” It came out rather flat.
“How much time do you need?” Windu was impatient, annoyed by having to repeat himself.
Irritation flared up in Obi-wan again. “Two weeks should be fine,” he snapped. Then he winced.
Windu squinted at him. “Take a break, Obi-wan. Figure it out.” Then he whirled away.
Obi-wan jammed his finger on the button and the door closed smoothly. Obi-wan hated it. He just wanted to slam it shut.
Fucking Windu and his fucking high horse. He just needed some time! Away from the noise, away from the people! Away from responsibility! Away from anyone who could look at him and see, who could look at him and guess. Away from anyone who could touch him accidentally, anyone who could look at his fingers and see the dirt, away from everyone who could look into his eyes and see the coward there hiding behind the façade, away from the people who cheered for him, who loved him, who saw someone strong, he needed a private place to crack, to be weak, he needed to reinforce the façade, practice his smiles, find his false-front and hold it up, he needed to find what was broken and mend it he needed to-
Knock knock knock.
“Fuck off,” Obi-wan whisper-yelled to himself and stomped to the door. He pressed the stupid silent button on the stupid silent door, speaking as he did so.
“Windu! For kark’s sake just give me fucking minute to-“
He looked up. Anakin stood there bewildered, hands raised as if to protest his innocence. Obi-wan stared at him for a moment.
“I thought you were Master Windu.”
“Really?” Anakin quipped, half-joking half-fearful. “I’m glad I’m not right about now.”
Obi-wan sighed and consciously relaxed his face.
“What is it, Anakin?”
Anakin raised his eyebrows. “Can I come in?”
Obi-wan sighed.
“Jeez, master, it’s not that big a deal, I get it, I can just-“
“No, no, come in Anakin, I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day.”
Anakin made a show of checking his watch. Obi-wan already knew it was barely three o’clock. He’d been awake for less than six hours and he was ready to check out. Not a good sign.
“I know, I know. It’s early.”
Anakin stepped in and the stupid silent door shut behind him.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Obi-wan turned his back and walked to the sofa, plopping down in the spot he’d been trying to melt into all afternoon. “Not really. I haven’t really, well.” He stopped.
The couch sunk beside him as Anakin settled in beside him. It was quiet.
“Did you come here for anything in paticular?” Maybe Anakin came here with a question of his own.
“Yes,” Anakin said patiently, “I came here to see you. I wanted to see how you are.”
“I am so tired of people asking me how I am, I’m fine!” There was a pause.
“Technically I didn’t ask.”
“Anakin for kark’s sake,”
“What? I’m just saying.” Another pause. “And I can see that you’re not.”
Obi-wan tried to glare at him, but he could muster little heat with Anakin. He looked away. The clock ticked distantly.
“I don’t feel like I should talk about this with you,” Obi-wan blurted. Anakin was silent for a moment.
“Why not?” There was no hurt in his voice.
“Because you’re my padawan,” Anakin opened his mouth, “were my padawan. I feel like you should be confiding in me, not the other way around.”
Anakin was already shaking his head. “We have to lean on each other, Obi-wan. How many times have you told me that talking is necessary? You’re my best friend, I want you to talk to me. To anyone, really.”
Obi-wan sighed and put his head in his hands, collecting himself. Anakin waited.
“I,” Obi-wan cleared his throat, then glanced up at Anakin. “I stepped down from the jedi council today.”
“You wha- what happened?” Anakin’s face flickered to shock before he neutralized it. Obi-wan waved a hand nonchalantly, then rested his elbows on the table, face in his hands once more. “Temporarily. A leave of absence. I missed several meetings this morning, and I just don’t feel like I can go to them right now. Windu was not happy.”
Obi-wan didn’t need to look at Anakin to feel the rage ripple through his force signature. “He needs to mind his own fucking-“
“Anakin,” Obi-wan said warningly, but he couldn’t stop the smile that came to his face. Anakin saw the quirk of his mouth and grinned at it before diving back in.
“I’m serious, he needs to let you take a damn break!”
Obi-wan sat up and leaned back, tension leaving his body. “Yes, I rather wish I gave him a piece of my mind earlier. I have two weeks off for now.” He felt a little better with the back-up.
Anakin nodded thoughtfully. “When is your first appointment with the healers then?”
Obi-wan’s neck whipped round, but Anakin’s expression was carefully innocent. “What appointment? I told you I’m fine.”
Anakin scrunched his eyebrows, putting on an expression of confusion that was just short of sincere. “Well, that’s just the policy for a sabbatical, isn’t it?”
Obi-wan glared at him. “I didn’t realize you were so familiar with the post-mission recovery response and treatment policy 4DA-12,” he said accusingly.
Anakin blushed. “Well you know me, Ahsoka asked for help with her paper on” Anakin choked, “post mission recovery recently, and I just found it interesting that-“
“I’m sure.” Obi-wan said coldly.
Anakin’s abashed expression melted into defiance. “You have to go, Obi-wan. It’s policy.”
“Yes I know!” He snapped. Anakin recoiled slightly, but didn’t snap back.
Obi-wan sighed. Anakin was being more patient than he deserved. “I know, I know. I’m sick of people telling me what to do.” Anakin opened his mouth again, and Obi-wan cut him off.
“I’m going to go,” he snapped, “I just really don’t want to.”
Anakin gave him a second. “What are you so scared of?”
Obi-wan bit the inside of cheek hard and turned to glare at Anakin head on. “I’m not scared.”
Anakin looked at him quizzically and narrowed his gaze, blue eyes boring into his own. “Yeah right, master, you seem scared to me. And you’re way more on edge than usual.”
“I am not-“ Obi-wan started in a raised voice, then took a breath. “I am not on edge.” Anakin stared at him incredulously, and Obi-wan hated that he couldn’t help but prove Anakin’s point. He got to his feet to turn on the kettle. He needed to busy his hands. “I am not on edge,” he repeated, as if that would make it more true, “I am just tired. I want to rest and too many people want things from me! I just need time this time.” His words were clumsy, and he grimaced.
Obi-wan was facing away from his living room, but he heard Anakin get up from the couch. “If you want some space for now, I’ll go, but Master, the healers will help. You have lots of friends to support you. I think this break will be good for you.” The enthusiasm in his tone made him sick.
Obi-wan resolutely faced the cupboard and nodded stiltedly, watching the kettle lights flicker on as the temperature started to rise.
“And you can always talk to me, Obi-wan, I’m here for you.” The footsteps came closer, and Obi-wan’s jaw worked as Anakin placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Obi-wan turned around and Anakin’s hand fell limply to his side. Obi-wan bit back his annoyance. Anakin was just trying to be kind.
“Thank you, Anakin, I appreciate it. I do.” He smiled and met his eyes, and it almost felt sincere. From the warmth in Anakin’s face, he’d clearly managed well enough. “I just need some space and some time, I think.”
Anakin’s earnest expression hurt him and Obi-wan had to look away. “Of course. I understand, master. I’ll come see you tomorrow, alright?” He patted Obi-wan’s shoulder reassuringly as he left, turning too quickly to see Obi-wan squirm under the touch.
He opened the door, waving as the door closed sleekly behind him. It latched shut and Obi-wan let his arm fall weakly to his side, then scrubbed his hands over his face.
Nothing made sense! Where was all this anger coming from? He had nowhere to put it. Nowhere to set it down. Deep breaths, moving meditation, conversation, all of it infuriating. He wanted to scream.
So, he went to his room. It was only 3pm, but he was tired. Surely some sleep would help. If he could find it. At least this was a door he could slam.
Chapter 3
Notes:
This is a shorter update than usual, but it's been really difficult topic for me to write. Even though I chose it haha.
Also I got hit by a car today so there's that. My bike was more hurt than me, thankfully. :)) Anyways, enjoy the update!
Also warning, we go a little bit more into what happened this chapter, nothing graphic though.
Cheers.
Chapter Text
It was with heavy feet and a heavier heart that Obi-wan dragged himself to the healers the next day. He figured he might as well get it over with; Anakin might drop by to check on him, the council would be watching to ensure he followed protocol, and the faster he did it, the less he had to dread it.
The halls of healing would be welcoming if Obi-wan didn’t associate them with pain. As it was, the high arched ceilings and the plants set about to encourage growth only brought about in him a vague anxiety that was heightened by the circumstances of his visit. He wasn’t excessively worried, though. A full physical wasn’t usually standard. And if it was, he could argue his way into having a droid perform the necessary functions. They didn’t call him the negotiator for nothing.
He strolled in wearing a glittering false confidence and smiled at the administrative nurse with a wave.
“Good morning, appointment for 9 O’clock?”
The Torguta smiled at him and gestured him forward. “Good morning, Master Kenobi, you can just head right in; they’re ready for you in room four.” He nodded and strolled on, nerves vanquished under his firm foot strikes.
They didn’t bother to explain routine to him because he’d been here so often, so it was an easy thing to walk to the small white room and carefully remove his outer robes and shoes, leaving him in his black undershirt and underwear. He folded everything precisely and placed it on the chair, then used the stepping stool to sit on the plastic bed, hands fiddling with the crumply paper resting atop it.
He didn’t have to wait very long until the medical droid came in, and he sighed in no small amount of relief as it started to rattle off instructions. It would take his vitals, check his reflexes, his injuries, and do diagnostics as necessary. He lay down and did exactly what the droid said. Breathe in, breathe out, stethoscope on the chest, no rattle in the lungs. Eyes open, closed, pupils big and small all at once. Shirt off, a noninvasive scan. Nerves firing as they should be, the pinch of a needle drawing blood, the intrusion of a thermometer in his mouth.
“Six major contusions across the entire body, left untreated since the injury. Twelve lacerations, two that could have used stitches, one of which has a minor infection, and one above the eye. A minor concussion, with medium repercussions seen from chronic dehydration, hunger, and sleep deprivation.” The droid’s voice was tinny and flat.
Obi-wan sat up and stared at it. It sounded so much worse when it was laid out. He’d noticed that his body was hurting and not really healing, but he hadn’t wanted to look too closely at it.
“Treatment will be a prescribed diet and hydration schedule, rest, bacta for contusions and lacerations, painkillers, and mild antibiotics. Does the patient have any concerns before the healer comes in to discuss?” The droid didn’t have emotion, but it seemed especially heartless now.
“The healer is coming in? What else needs to be done? I’m all finished now; I’ll heed your diagnosis and follow your treatment plan.”
“The healer is to go over more sensitive topics with the patient.”
Obi-wan didn’t like the sound of that.
“Like what?” He demanded.
“Mental health after a trying mission, booking appointments with the mind healers going forward, and more sensitive questions, asked by sentient beings to ensure more comfortability for patients.”
Obi-wan knew what that meant. For obvious reasons people usually didn’t like a droid near their bits. Obi-wan scowled.
“I don’t need that in depth of a checkup.”
“Take it up with the healer,” the droid buzzed indifferently, “I am just following programming.” It turned and opened the door, hovering away down the hall, its limbs retracting as it did so. The door shut behind it. Obi-wan glared after it even though it wouldn’t make a difference, then started to map out his script for the healer before they got here. The healers were usually at least a little force sensitive, so he had to choose his words carefully. He put on his pants but still dangled his feet, barefoot, unsure if they'd want more tests.
Unfortunately, he had less than thirty seconds to plan before the door opened once more, and a Pantoran healer entered. He was young, with the standard blue skin and curly black hair, tapping away at a data pad. He looked up as he entered and smiled.
“Good morning! I'm,” He faltered for a moment as he recognized Obi-wan, but covered it quickly, “Liax, and I’ll just be walking through a few standard questions with you to wrap up the appointment today. It’s 00187, Master Obi-wan Kenobi?”
Obi-wan smiled back. “Yes, that is correct.” He appreciated the professionalism. The jedi order was huge, and as such so were the halls of healing. 10,000 active Jedi meant many, many healers, and Obi-wan was glad he hadn’t met this one before. Likely wouldn’t again.
“Perfect, I’ll keep it simple. I’ve been sent a specific list of questions I need to walk through to assess the more nuanced facets of wellbeing straight from protocol 4DA-12. After that I will look at the results, do a quick physical check, and we will discuss and decide on a treatment plan with the mind healers and healers that is right for you. Some questions can get personal or difficult, so if at any time you need to stop to take a break, or want someone else to do the interview, just say so. The interview will be completely confidential unless I deem you a threat to yourself or to others. Is this okay with you?”
Obi-wan squinted. He was thinking it was very much not okay with him, but he didn’t seem to have much of a choice.
He still couldn’t stop himself from trying, though. “How necessary is this? I’ve talked to a number of Jedi, and I have support systems in place. I don’t need any kind of treatment plan that you intend to diagnose.” He squinted at the man.
Liax opened his mouth and started to reply, but Obi-wan cut him off again.
“I know you’re going to say that it’s protocol, but I’ve been back for like," he counted his fingers performatively, "3 days now and I’m completely fine.”
Liax smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry Master Kenobi, but it’s just standard. If everything is fine, then this will be quick and painless, alright?”
Obi-wan squirmed uncomfortably and the paper underneath him rustled. “Fine.”
Liax looked at the data pad and then back up at Obi-wan questioningly. “We can do this on a different day, or we can transfer your case to a different healer if that would make you more comfortable.”
Obi-wan grit his teeth. He was already here, cold and exposed in his undershirt and not much else. Putting it off wouldn’t make a difference. And another healer would be exactly the same. Or worse. Liax seemed nice enough.
Obi-wan waved a hand and tried to look more friendly. “No, let’s just get on with it.”
“Okay then. I’ll just confirm a couple personal details with you for our records.”
Obi-wan nodded curtly as Liax looked at him.
“Your name is Obi-wan Ben Kenobi?”
“Yes.”
“You are 37 years of age, and in charge of the 212th attack battalion?”
“Correct.”
“You were recently sent on a classified mission to Enarc?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me why you are here today?”
Obi-wan looked up from where his hands were fisted on lap and made eye contact. He wished his dangling feet could touch the floor.
“Because of protocol 4DA-12.”
“Well, technically you’re not wrong, but why was it enacted in your case?”
“Am I allowed to discuss mission details with healers?” Obi-wan put skepticism into his voice, even though he knew the answer. Worth a shot.
“As long as you refrain from personal or place names in the details you share, the healers all have a protected B security level. Anything that pertains to your health is alright to discuss here.”
He sighed. Some honesty, then. “My mission went poorly, and I was held captive for a month and put under duress.” He said it quickly as if it bored him.
The healer nodded slowly. “And you suffered intentional physical pain while you were there at the hands of your captors?”
At least they didn’t say the word torture. “Yes.”
“You’ve experienced treatment like this before?”
Obi-wan almost laughed, and the amusement showed on his face. “Yes.”
“Was your mental health evaluated after these previous experiences?”
Obi-wan almost rolled his eyes. “I passed the protocol. A formal evaluation wasn’t necessary.”
Liax looked surprised. “How many counselling sessions with the mind healers have you had?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant. Isn’t that in your records somewhere?”
Liax looked down at the data pad. “I assume this must be incorrect, with your extensive battle experience. It says you’ve had two.”
Obi-wan nodded. That was right. Two painful sessions, quickly done with false platitudes on both sides, and rushed standing orders waiting for him at the end of each one.
The corner of Liax’s mouth turned down. “Are you aware that you are supposed to be receiving counselling after every mission, even as a debrief?”
“We hardly have time to eat, these days,” Obi-wan said airily, “counselling is not a priority.”
Liax frowned at him. “I’m sorry your wellbeing has been neglected. It should be a priority for you and for your commanding officer.”
Obi-wan scowled. “I can assure you that it is not a problem. My wellbeing is not dependent on the number of counselling sessions attended.”
“So, two sessions.” The healer recorded his response, then looked up at him for the next question. “Have there been any lasting physical effects of duress other than the ones that our droid recorded in it’s testing?”
“No. They healed me whenever they needed to.” There was flicker of awareness in the force, and Liax held his eyes for a moment too long, then dipped his head and recorded his response.
“How are you feeling physically on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the most energetic and capable your body has ever felt, and one being the most exhausted and in pain you’ve ever been?”
Obi-wan quirked an eyebrow at the scale, then put some thought into it. There were some questions he could answer relatively honestly. “I would put myself at a three or four at the moment. I’ve been very tired. As you can probably see in my file, I’ve stepped down from council duties temporarily.”
The healer bobbed his head. “Yes, I can see that. Based on how you’re feeling, that’s definitely for the best.”
There was a pause as his answer was recorded.
“How have you been sleeping?” Obi-wan narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like how open-ended the question was.
“Horizontally.”
Liax chuckled, and Obi-wan’s mouth quirked up a little bit. This wasn’t going terribly, he supposed. Maybe he could butter him up and he could leave early.
“I’ll specify. Are you getting a full eight hours? Are you waking up during the night? Are you sleeping at regular times? Any nightmares?”
Obi-wan considered the questions. Maybe the healer could actually help him. Some sleeping pill he could prescribe. “I haven’t been sleeping well, no. I’m getting maybe 5 hours of sleep during the night, but I nap sometimes when I can during the day.”
A pause.
“Any nightmares?”
Damn him for asking. “Some. But nothing I can’t handle.”
Liax nodded and recorded it, and Obi-wan eyed the data pad warily. Liax noticed. “This is just for my personal records. I’ll be managing your case so that there is documentation that the protocol was followed, and then it will be deleted. Don’t worry.”
Obi-wan hated that he was so transparent. And that Liax was so reassuring. So, he just nodded.
“And the reason we do these appointments are so that you don’t have to ‘just handle it.’”
Obi-wan refrained from scoffing. It was a close thing. He had the force. He didn't 'just handle it'. He didn’t respond.
Liax moved on to the next question.
“Have you had any flashbacks or hallucinations related to traumatic events from your mission?” Obi-wan thought about his first day back when Anakin had found him and for a moment, he’d thought he was somewhere else. He thought about the time before wake and sleep, when everything became foggy and terrifying, and he swore sometimes he could see things in the darkness. Yes.
“No.”
Liax looked at him for too long again, then recorded it.
“Have you been suffering from brain fog?” Obi-wan decided to answer this one honestly.
“Yes.”
“Can you elaborate?”
Ugh. “I suppose so. I have had difficulty focusing on conversations happening around me. I have had difficulty managing tasks like paperwork, or communications. I’ve felt detached from the things happening around me or people that are trying to talk to me.”
Liax nodded again. Obi-wan was getting tired of that.
“And is this something that started when you got back or that started during your capture?”
Obi-wan looked at his hands again. “During the capture.”
Liax didn’t say anything, and Obi-wan looked up again to see him tapping at the pad.
“How often have you been feeling down, depressed, or hopeless? Not at all, several days, more than half the days, or nearly every day?”
A depression analysis?
“I’ve only been back for a few days.”
“I am aware, but this can include how you were feeling during capture as well.”
Fine. “More than half the days. But that was mostly circumstantial.”
“You’ve already reported that you’re having trouble sleeping. How often has that been for you?”
Obi-wan worked his jaw, frustrated now that he’d been honest before. “More than half the days.”
“Have you felt tired or had little energy?”
He started to feel a little snappish. “I already said that I have.”
“Over the past several weeks have you felt bad about yourself or that you are a failure?”
Obi-wan scoffed. “I literally failed my mission in every sense of the word. I had to be rescued by an armed batallion. So yes.”
"Have you thought about harming yourself, or had any suicidal thoughts in the past two weeks?"
Obi-wan hesitated. "Not more than the normal amount."
Liax's eyes flicked up. "The normal amount is zero."
Obi-wan hid his bewilderment rather well, he thought. He frowned. "Then no."
Liax stared at him. Obi-wan stared back.
“We'll come back to that. Over the past several weeks-“
“Can we move past the tacky depression questionnaire, please? I’ve said enough on the subject. It was circumstantial, I already said that.”
“I’m just trying to be thorough, Master Kenobi,” he said placatingly.
“Just,” he cut himself off and adjusted his tone. “We can skip the rest.”
Liax bent his head. “Alright. We’ll skip the rest for now.”
Obi-wan didn’t miss the promise of coming back later, and felt his lip start to curl into a snarl until he pushed it down again.
“Now, Master Kenobi,” Liax started, and there was more apology written on his face again. “These next questions are also standard and have to do with sexual assault. Again, anything you say will be completely confidential, and this can also be postponed for another time. Are you alright to continue?”
Obi-wan wanted to nod confidently but found himself staring at his hands again. This was unexpected. “It’s not necessary, Liax, it was a military mission.” He should have familiarized himself with 4DA-12 before coming here. It had always been so rushed before, and he'd never worried about sexual assault.
He didn’t need to look up to see Liax nod understandingly. “Of course, Master Kenobi, it is just part of the standard protocol. These things can happen anywhere, to anyone.” His voice was soft and Obi-wan hated it. He wanted to make someone bleed, so he bit the inside of his cheek.
“Fine, let’s just get through them quickly then.” More frustration bled into his tone than he wanted.
“Were you threatened verbally, physically, or sexually while you were there?”
Obi-wan thought about it for a moment. Liax was clearly a little bit force sensitive, and weaving in some tolerable truths could aid him in escaping from this as unscathed and private as possible.
He nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Can you describe in what way?”
“Do I have to?”
“You don’t have to, but it could be helpful.”
Obi-wan chose his words carefully. “There were obvious threats of violence, and they used a force inhibitor drug to carry out that violence when they deemed necessary. There were threats, rumors, really, of being sold to a trafficking ring, or of prostitution.”
Liax dutifully typed in his answer.
“How many times were you threatened like that?”
Obi-wan was answering before he could think about it.
“Daily.”
“Was there anyone with you that was being threatened in the same manner?”
Obi-wan swallowed harshly. “No. Not with me. But I could hear others down the halls. ”
“What did they say?”
Obi-wan ducked his head again. “They mostly just screamed.”
There was a stop, and Obi-wan looked up again. Liax was studying him. Obi-wan’s hackles raised. “What?” he said sharply.
“I meant what did the people threatening the others say.”
Obi-wan felt his face heat up.
“Oh.” He collected himself. “The same things they told me.”
Thankfully Liax didn’t press him on it.
“Did you experience any non-consensual touching or groping during your time there?”
During your time there. Like it was some fucking vacation.
His mouth was shaped into the word no, but something started to ache deep inside him, and he sat there with his lips parted instead of answering. The silence was deafening.
“Obi-wan?”
He didn’t look up. His face flushed and shame tore through him.
They sat in silence for another few seconds.
“Yes.” It was barely above a whisper. He didn’t even know why he’d said it.
Liax nodded and wrote it down, but Obi-wan didn’t look up. Why had he said that? Why was Liax recording it? He felt exposed and crossed his arms over his chest. The silence was crushing.
“Was there any non-consensual penetration?”
He felt himself flinch back from the question. He hadn’t expected such an escalation, and he looked up at Liax almost pleadingly.
Liax looked back at him steadily. “I know, it’s just the next question on here.” Obi-wan found he couldn’t hold eye contact any longer. He looked at the wall across from him. That ache deep inside him started to strangle him, and Obi-wan realized in that moment that this wasn’t something he could train into subservience. If he never told anyone about this, it would kill him. Any preconceived notion of aloofness he’d been clinging too was abandoned. Shame was silencing, but a part of him needed desperately to tell.
The wall was white. “Yes.”
Liax nodded sympathetically, and bent to record his answer, and it all suddenly became too much.
“Can we do the rest of this appointment later?”
Liax looked up, startled. “Yes, I mean, we can, but it would be easier to-“
“I need to leave. Right now. I need to go, I forgot that I have a-.”
“Obi-wan, I don’t believe you are in a good position to be alone at the moment. What we’ve been discussing is difficult, and I think it would be good for you to-”
But Obi-wan was already on his feet, hastily pulling on his robes over his underthings and slamming his feet into his shoes.
“No. No. I disagree.”
Liax started to get to his feet, still protesting, but Obi-wan was gone.
Chapter Text
Beep Beep Beep.
Anakin huffed from where he was perched on top of Jax, poised to place him into a sleeper hold, lightsabers cast aside for a good old fashioned fight. There was a pause as Anakin decided whether or not to answer it.
He grinned down at Jax. “Lucky you. Guess I’ll let you off the hook this time.”
Jax scoffed out a laugh, eyes sparkling, and used his foot to kick Anakin on his side, rolling with it so Anakin was knocked onto the floor, their positions reversed in an instant. “Lucky me.”
Jax jumped lightly to his feet before Anakin could retaliate, then offered him a hand up.
“You only managed that because I’d already let up on you.” Anakin complained jokingly, then took his hand. Jax hoisted him to his feet.
“Yes, yes I know. Heaven forbid I forget for an instant that you are a better dueler than me.” Jax smiled good naturedly, and Anakin smiled back.
“Heaven forbid.”
Beep Beep Beep.
“I better get that.”
Jax looked a bit more serious. “Yeah, a comm is always a mixed bag these days. Good luck with that.” He turned and started walking away. “Thanks for the duel! It’s just like the good old days, eh Skywalker?” He waved over his shoulder. “Let me know when you have time for another session!”
“Glad to! See you around Jax.” The door swung shut easily behind him and Anakin was alone.
Beep Beep Beep.
It was nice to be in the dojo by himself with the afternoon just around the corner, the sun slanting pleasantly in. He’d missed Jax, it turned out. Or maybe more just casual camaraderie that was always missing in the seriousness of the war. It was nice to have a break.
He picked up the comm, which flashed in his hand, and frowned. He didn’t recognize the caller ID. He pressed the side button to answer.
“Skywalker here. Who is this?”
“Hello General Skywalker. This is Healer 41220, Liax Benret calling regarding Patient 00187, Obi-wan Kenobi. You are listed as his emergency contact?”
He frowned, confused. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“Can you confirm your ID number for me to validate your identity?”
“It’s 05701.”
“Perfect. Thank you. I felt I needed to contact somebody regarding General Kenobi’s appointment today.”
Right. The appointment. Anakin was actually going to be heading to Obi-wan’s later tonight to see how he was handling everything. Anakin was very aware that Obi-wan hadn’t been doing well.
“Did something go wrong?” He felt a flash of irritation. “Did he not show up?”
“No no, he came to the appointment, but he left halfway through.”
Anakin sighed. “Of course he did. He’s so stubborn, he always does this, I can-”
“He didn’t just leave the appointment, or I wouldn’t be calling his emergency contacts,” Liax interrupted. “Kenobi left in great distress and in a hurry. I am worried he could be a danger to himself at the moment, and nobody has been able to locate him in the last hour. As his primary healer, it is my responsibility to ensure his well-being. All other avenues have been exhausted and I am now informing his emergency contacts.”
Anakin’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean a danger to himself?”
“Our appointment and the things a patient divulges within the appointment are confidential-”
“But-”
“-except in the case that they are a danger.” Anakin really needed to stop interrupting. “Kenobi discussed feeling like a failure, and mentioned depression and suicidal thoughts. We were doing a questionnaire to assess well-being when we started getting into some more difficult topics, and he just ran from the appointment. I don’t think he should be alone right now.”
Anakin’s world felt still. Depression? Suicidal thoughts? It seemed absolutely outlandish to even think. Obi-wan was known for his steadfast faith, his light, his consistency. He had been through much, obviously, but was quick to bounce back, quick to aid, and, Anakin had thought, was perfectly fine.
Obviously he’d noticed that Obi-wan had been a little more withdrawn than usual, but he’d put it down to a relatively more difficult capture this time around. He’d been more concerned when Obi-wan had withdrawn from the council, but had thought that just generally being around, eating with him, and spending some time would be enough to help him recover. Along with additional healer sessions, of course. Obi-wan never took great care of himself, but at this point, concern for Obi-wan felt like a part of his routine.
It was disturbing to realize that it could get so bad.
“Well I mean he wouldn’t…” Anakin didn’t want to say it.
“I don’t know what he is capable of at the moment. General Kenobi is obviously suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, and has a number of traumas he has never dealt with on top of his most recent experiences. He is not in his right mind.”
Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I know him better than anyone. He’ll be okay, I’ll find him. Do I bring him back to the halls of healing?”
“He may not be open to that option right away. Do so if you can, but don’t force him to come here without consent. It’s likely that he’ll want some privacy based on the nature of our discussion.”
Anakin wanted desperately to ask for more information, but refrained. If the healer wasn’t telling him something, it was because it was too personal to tell without consent.
He could still be annoyed by it though.
“Alright. I’ll start looking and get some other people searching too. And I’ll contact this number when I find him.”
“Good. Thank you, General.”
Anakin hung up and scrubbed a hand through his hair, which was still damp with perspiration from his training. Then he called Ahsoka.
………………………………
An hour and a half yielded nothing, and Anakin sat weary and hunched under the lemon tree in the gardens where he’d found Obi-wan sleeping. He prodded once more at their force bond, though he knew it was futile. Obi-wan had blocked it off completely in an effort to not be found. At least Anakin could feel he was still alive.
The thought felt sardonic, and Anakin banished it then commed Ahoska. She picked up immediately.
“Hey Snips, find anything?”
“Not yet, sorry Master. We finished searching the lower levels, the creche, the halls of healing, and we talked to his friends. Nobody has seen him.”
Anakin sighed. He’d looked everywhere else, along with all of Obi-wan's usual hidey holes, even venturing out to Dex’s to see if anyone had seen him. Nothing.
“He can really disappear when he wants to.”
Ahsoka’s brow knit in concern. “Is Master Obi-wan alright? I thought he had time off right now. He seemed good the other day.” She trailed off. Anakin searched for words to reassure her.
“Don’t worry, he’s okay. He’s just, he needs a friend right now and his healer asked us to find him. He’ll be fine, don’t stress about it.”
Her expression didn’t change. “Okay Master, but tell me if you find him? We’ll keep looking.”
“Of course. Thanks, Snips.”
He dropped the call. The garden was so quiet. This corner was a good one for sleeping, he reflected. It was quiet, and warm. The lemons in the tree were bright, yellow, and attracted all kinds of insects. The loudest sound he could hear was the bees humming above, moving calmly from flower to flower.
He rubbed his fists in his eyes, then looked at his comm records. He’d rung Obi-wan 8 times during his search, the calls originally back to back, then spaced out in their frequency, and increasingly desperate on his end. All his messages had been ignored. He scrolled through.
TO OBI-WAN KENOBI
Obi-wan (1152hrs):1 Missed Call
Obi-wan (1152hrs):1 Missed Call
Obi-wan (1152hrs): Obi-wan your healer just called me as your emergency contact and said you are missing and “in distress” at the moment. I need you to tell me where you are.
Obi-wan (1153hrs): I mean, I don’t NEED you to do anything, but I am just worried about you and want to help in any way I can!
Obi-wan (1153hrs): Well actually I do kind of need you to message me back or at least let me in to know where you are because the healers are concerned and it’s kind of my job as your emergency contact to help them find you.
Obi-wan (1154hrs): Not that it’s a job, I mean just that I’m supposed to help you, but obviously you know I want to help you in any way I can.
Obi-wan(1154hrs): Okay for real I’m really worried about you. Your healer said they were worried that you could be suicidal and that you’ve been really depressed and I want you to know that you aren’t alone but we need to find you to help you.
Obi-wan (1155hrs): You have a lot of people who love you and need you in their lives, and we can help you feel better. I don’t know what’s going on right now, but you can always tell me everything, even though I used to be your padawan, as you say :)
Obi-wan (1155hrs):1 Missed Call
Obi-wan (1158hrs): I have Ahsoka and some of her friends looking as well, and the healers have already exhausted all the spots within their jurisdiction. If you don’t answer soon I’m going to have to involve your men.
Obi-wan (1208hrs): Seriously Obi-wan, we’ve checked everywhere. You’re really starting to stress me out.
Obi-wan (1208hrs):1 Missed Call
Obi-wan (1208hrs): Pls just answer me
Obi-wan (1235hrs): We’ve finished searching the Jedi quarters. You know, I can help you clean your chambers. You’re usually so tidy ;)
Obi-wan (1243hrs):1 Missed Call
Obi-wan (1244hrs):1 Missed Call
Obi-wan (1245hrs): I’m involving your men now. I contacted Cody and told him to do whatever he feels is right in terms of involving the 212th in the search. I don’t want to concern them, but I feel like I have to at this point.
Obi-wan (12:52): I know it hasn’t been easy for you lately. I’m sorry if I brushed it off, or pestered you too much, you know I always want to make it better if I can. You can always talk to me. Or we can watch movies. Or drink tea. Or we can spar or something. I guess once you’re a little better healed. I dunno.
Obi-wan (1300hrs):1 Missed Call
Obi-wan (1313hrs): Just tell me, I won’t tell anyone where you are, promise.
Obi-wan (1314hrs): where r u
Obi-wan (1314): Obi-wan
Obi-wan (1314): Tell me
Obi-wan (1314): Please
Obi-wan (1318hrs):1 Missed Call
Obi-wan (1318): ugh you are so karking stubborn, did you know that?
He checked his watch. It was now 1335hrs. Almost three hours now that Obi-wan had run out of his session. Maybe it wasn’t as serious as everyone was making it out to be.
But maybe it was.
He closed his eyes and ran through everything they’d tried again. His comm was untraceable: Obi-wan had put it in ghost mode before running away. Or he’d shut it off. They’d tried tracking his force signature, his kyber crystal, but both were well blocked by Obi-wan at the moment. They’d talked to his close friends. Cody had yet to involve the 212th, most of whom were still repairing cruisers and starfighters in the landing bay.
He ripped his eyes open. That’s it! Obi-wan had to be hiding in a vessel that had brought him back. Or something similar. No one would think to look for him in a potentially triggering environment while he was having a mental breakdown. It was so dumb it was smart. Right? Plus the landing bay was busy: nobody would search there because it was a relatively impossible place to hide. Not for Obi-wan though. It was worth a shot.
……………………………….
The landing bay was bustling with activity. Anakin was dismayed to see that there were no transports or starfighters that weren’t actively undergoing heavy repairs. There was no way Obi-wan would have hid in here. It was impossible.
Anakin grit his teeth. But his instinct could have still been correct. Obi-wan may have come here originally then noticed, as Anakin had, the futility of his efforts, and found a spot nearby, unnoticeable. He looked around. There had to be something.
Troopers marched in formation, the corners of the bay cast in semi darkness so Anakin had a little bit of privacy when peering behind stacks of cargo. He narrowed his eyes. What would Obi-wan have done? He closed his eyes and imagined Obi-wan looking for a hiding spot, frantic and rushed, ducking behind the stack where he was now braced. A quick escape…. He opened his eyes. Maybe there was a panel in the walls somewhere? A secret tunnel he didn’t know about, or a storage slot?
He poked at the walls for a second, then felt a little silly. The vents were too obvious, and too undignified, he thought, for even a panicky Obi-wan to consider a good hiding spot. The padawans frequented them too often. It wasn’t good enough. He felt like there was something here though. He sighed, frustrated, then closed his eyes. He would trust the force.
He took a step into the centre of the little space that the cargo and the walls made, closed his eyes and spun for a moment, listening to the force. A little niggling in the corner of his mind, and his feet stepped forwards. He paid close attention and crouched down, fingers reaching for a little ridge in the armoured walls. He tugged upwards slightly, and the panel gave, a tiny 15 by 15 centimetre square coming right off, revealing a little controller with a button on it. He pressed it quickly, and a slot opened up right along ground level, tall enough for him to wiggle through on his belly, and wide enough that his shoulders fit through the opening, though just barely. He looked at the gap with a little bit of trepidation and no small amount of relief. He sure hoped it was spacious enough for two in there, because if Obi-wan was tucked tight in the wall, then it was about to get cosy.
He looked around to make sure nobody saw him, then dropped from a crouch onto his belly and wiggled his way through. It was undignified, sure, but he’d done many more, much less dignified things before.
Anakin could see very little of the space while he slithered in because his bulk blocked the light. His feet cleared the opening, and the slot shut completely, leaving him in complete blackness.
“Obi-wan?” He slowly raised his arms above his head, still on his belly. He didn’t want to bang his head. They didn’t hit anything, so, as he raised his arms higher and higher, he slowly got up from his crouch, slowly standing straight until he was fully extended. Once he was sure it was safe to do so, he pulled out his lightsaber, illuminating the space. He was in a tall shaft, so tall he felt foolish for standing up so slowly. There were rungs in front of him, and a wall behind him, the chamber just wide enough for him to crawl in, and nothing else. The walls were tight to each side of him, and when he looked up, he couldn’t see the ladder. It disappeared into darkness.
Well, he could climb in the dark. He sheathed his saber and put his hands on the rungs, starting up.
He didn’t climb for long. His worry made him fast. He knew that Obi-wan would be up here, had at the very least gone this way. It was less than ten minutes, maybe even less than five, he thought, before he banged his head on the ceiling. He went down a couple rungs. He illuminated his saber to examine the ceiling. It was like a manhole cover, and he flicked a latch at the side to unlock it, then pushed it open, relieved to see he was climbing outside. The cover opened all the way and he started to climb through, a little confused by what he saw.
He had come out on the side of the landing bay of the jedi temple, a kind of cut out below the landing bay’s outdoor platforms, hidden just out of sight. It was a rectangular space cut out of a the metal exterior, the ladder entrance set in the centre of the floor. It wasn’t a very big space. It was two big steps to hit the back wall, and maybe five long strides for its length, but Anakin didn’t pay much attention to its dimensions.
Obi-wan sat huddled in the corner, his head resting on his knees, back and side pressed against the walls like he could make himself smaller. His saber lay shut off several feet away from him, along with his comm, which was opened to Anakin’s messages and similarly abandoned.
Anakin approached carefully. “Obi-wan?”
Obi-wan didn’t look up, but Anakin saw him notice his voice. He must’ve been quite distracted if he didn’t notice his entrance. He prodded at Obi-wan’s shields again, but he was still rigidly blocked off.
“Anakin.” He was muffled. “I should have known you of all people would…” he trailed off.
“Master, your healer called me, he was very concerned about you.”
Obi-wan let out a derisive laugh. “I’m sure he was.” Anakin ignored his tone and stepped closer, then knelt down in front of Obi-wan, though not too close; he didn’t want to smother him.
“We’ve all been concerned. We’ve been looking for you. Are you alright?” The question felt stupid, but what else could he say? He reached for his comm, intending to inform everyone that the search was done, but Obi-wan’s head snapped up.
“What are you doing?”
Anakin’s mouth flapped uselessly. “I’m just-”
Obi-wan’s eyes were bloodshot, red rimmed, and an anger Anakin hadn’t seen flashed through them as Obi-wan clenched his fist. Anakin’s comm fell to pieces.
He stared at the sparking bits by his feet, astounded, as Obi-wan put his head down again. There was a long pause.
“What the hell-” he spluttered. “What on-” this was so unlike Obi-wan, he’d never seen him do anything like, “what’s the matter with you?! What was that?!”
Obi-wan didn’t bother lifting his head. His voice was still muffled, but he sounded angry. Defensive. “You were going to tell the others where I am. It’s not necessary, I’m-”
“Fine? You’re fine, Obi-wan? Does this look fine to you? What about this situation says that you’re fine? You are very obviously not fine! You’ve been incognito all day, your friends haven’t seen you, I haven’t seen you, your healer is worried that you’re going to commit suicid- kriff Obi-wan!”
Anakin collapsed from kneeling to sitting against the wall. He gazed aimlessly out at the city for a moment before turning back to his old Master. He’d curled up on himself even more, if that was possible. He didn’t respond.
Frustration coiled up as his gaze dropped to his own messages he’d left, still open on Obi-wan’s abandoned comm. Traffic whizzed by, and the vibrations of ships landing above rattled the walls and throbbed steadily, all unaware of this hidden metal pocket they occupied. A light wind ruffled his hair, the faint scents of approaching summer on the breeze. The sky was a deep blue today, and the sunlight had tilted decidedly into late afternoon but Anakin could hardly pay it any attention. He’d been so worried and Obi-wan hadn’t cared.
“Did you get my messages?” He asked harshly, pointedly, but Obi-wan surprised him by making a stilted sound.
Anakin gawked at him, stunned, and the sound came again. It was a sob, painstakingly torn from Obi-wan, like he was trying desperately to hold it back but couldn’t. His arms were clenched painfully tight, knuckles white where they clutched at his knees, fingers curled into the fabric tightly, like he wanted to draw blood.
The sound came again, keening and agonising, and Anakin’s ire dropped completely. His guts turned to ice. Obi-wan didn’t cry. That was the way the world worked. Space is a vacuum. Humans need air with at least twenty percent oxygen to survive. Your lightsaber is your life. And Obi-wan doesn’t cry.
The sound came again, his hunched figure bent and huddled away from witness. It was devastating to see him small and tormented like this, and Anakin rushed to scoot close to him and put a hand on his shoulder, though part of him worried it wouldn’t be welcome.
His touch seemed to open a damn inside of Obi-wan, and he cried freely, seemingly unable to stop it now. They were harsh, throaty, wracking sobs that ripped out of him like they left claw marks behind. His frame shook with each cry that forced itself out of his body, voice bubbled and strained around each one, still trying to hold them back.
Anakin swallowed, then swallowed again, his heart breaking, and cautiously reached an arm around Obi-wan’s shoulders. Obi-wan tilted towards him immediately, turning his head to bury it in Anakin’s shoulder instead, his control utterly abandoned. It hurt more with this way, to feel Obi-wan shuddering with the force of his pain from up close, tremors rattling the both of them. Anakin tried to hold him more firmly.
In truth, it scared him. He knew a little of what Obi-wan had been through, and much of it was stomach turning. What had happened to make him react like this? Was this something that time could fix?
The part of him that was still a little boy was frightened. His heroes weren’t invulnerable. Obi-wan was suffering, and Anakin wanted the people he loved to be safe, always. His chest was so tight that he could hardly breathe.
It took some time, but Obi-wan’s sobs slowly started to subside, and Anakin tried to rub reassuring circles on his shoulder. The sobs turned into hitching, quiet breaths, and the rustling of fabric as Obi-wan compulsively wiped his eyes and nose with his sleeves, still not looking up. He eventually stilled and they sat there for a moment in the quiet.
He could hardly breathe.
Chapter Text
Obi-wan’s head was still where it lay heavily against Anakin’s shoulder. They didn’t say anything. Obi-wan knew Anakin wanted to ask and that he deserved some kind of answer, but words were evading him. They watched vehicles whiz and dance far below, the blue sky bigger than the towers of coruscant, wider and brighter than the swathes of smog sweeping in between them. Up here though, the air was clean. The rumble of landing aircraft was a distant white noise that blocked excessive thought, so he listened to it carefully. He didn’t look at Anakin. Couldn’t look at Anakin. The hand around his shoulder was still there, fingers still absently playing with the limp fabric of his tunic.
Sleeve damp, nose raw, Obi-wan wiped his face again. He didn’t know what else to do. The disgrace of his outburst couldn’t get its claws into him yet, and this silence was safe. The breeze was a cool blue, the city as distant as his troubles as long as he didn’t move from here and didn’t think beyond this box he’d run to.
That had been the worst part, he thought; during his capture he’d had nowhere to hide. He couldn’t even curl up. His little mat on the floor was too narrow, so when he tried to bring his knees to his chest his skin met frigid stone too cold to rest against for any length of time. Sometimes, when he was exhausted and sick of planning his escape, he’d just pretend he was somewhere else, somewhere he could curl up and hide. Under a desk, knees tucked to his chin, arms wrapped tight. Under a bed, head tucked under elbows, walls pressed against him from every direction. He’d imagined it in great detail. He’d felt the phantom pain in his neck, down his spine, from hunching forward under a low surface. He’d imagined the shuffle scrape of sharp rock against knobbly knees. Nobody could touch him where the walls were. Nobody could reach through stone.
It wasn’t a dignified wish, but he’d indulged it when there was little else to indulge in, and would do so again now. Open space these days was as dangerous as breathing, so he’d wished himself somewhere small and tucked away. He played that he was small and secret too, not stretched out in a line. He’d been a laid corpse, a set banquet, the foot so far from the head of the table that his mind couldn’t keep the rest of him safe.
That was probably why he’d run here. It was as secluded as could be managed without leaving the temple. Somewhere no one could find him. Qui-gon had shown him, and now the secret was his alone.
Well it had been.
Anakin shifted slightly. He was probably getting uncomfortable. The floor was unforgiving.
Obi-wan didn't want to leave yet. Afternoon was officially late afternoon, and the sun was starting to dip. Conversation could wait. It would be fine, right? Though he was starting to feel restless himself.
Obi-wan started to sit up, wincing at the throbbing behind his eyes and the ache in his neck. The damp cloth of Anakin's tunic peeled free from his cheek when he sat up all the way. Anakin carefully extricated his arm, and the silence got heavier as Obi-wan's thoughts became more and more present, his body slightly shaky without Anakin’s grounding weight holding him. It was so embarrassing to need someone.
The shame came for him then, and he nearly welled with fresh tears at the terrible hopelessness of it all. Not only had he lived these things, he'd put himself in the agonizing position of needing to tell. He'd burst, privately, his own secrets, then projected his hurt by sequestering himself away from all eyes, which demanded explanation. Liax wouldn't tell anyone though, would he?
Anakin's eyes were on him, though he tried to be subtle. It wasn't one of his strong suits. Obi-wan chanced a glance at him, and Anakin pretended to be patient, eyes flicking forwards, curls tossed in the wind, mouth still and calm.
Obi-wan looked forward again and made his breathing robotic, forcing his body into a false-calm he hoped his brain could share. The silence started to feel too oppressing, and he hated that he felt the need to break it.
"Did the Healers tell you about-" he cut off, his voice croaky and painful. It was wretched. He cleared his throat. "Did the healers tell you about the appointment?"
He could see Anakin look at him in his peripheral, but kept his own eyes straight ahead. There was a lovely cloud far, far away, tall and glorious. He fixated on it.
Anakin regarded him for a moment, which Obi-wan endured, then turned his head forwards again as he prepared to speak. "He didn't tell me a lot. Just that you'd run away and he was concerned for you." Anakin looked at him again. "I see you got my messages." It wasn't said cruelly, but Obi-wan still grimaced.
He glanced at the comm which still lay on the floor, messages incriminatingly open. They were desperate and sloppy, and he was ashamed to have let them all stew. Heat rose to his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have worried you." His voice felt flat, and he tried to put more emotion into it. "I'm sorry." It didn’t really work.
Anakin placed a hand on his shoulder. "Obi-wan, look at me," he said imploringly. Obi-wan didn't. He couldn't. He'd spent the better part of the last hour weeping. Pathetic and small, a padawan holding up a master when it should be the other way around.
Anakin poked at his cheek until Obi-wan batted at his hand tiredly and looked up in annoyance. Their gazes crossed and Obi-wan had to look away from the intensity there.
"You're not okay. You need to talk to someone. Liax told us that you could be suicidal, that's why we panicked when you disappeared. He said you were having a kind of mental breakdown? And that you'd been discussing something that really bothered you?"
Obi-wan started to shake his head instinctively and opened his mouth to reply, but Anakin cut him off. "I'm not asking you to tell me anything, I'm just trying to explain to you why we panicked. We care about you Obi-wan, and I care about you. Obviously. Probably more than anyone." The last bit was said with a weak smile and a gentle nudge to the shoulder, which dropped when Obi-wan couldn't smile back.
Anakin sighed. "Obi-wan, what's wrong? You can say."
He shook his head.
"I know it's something serious. You don't have to talk to me, but you need to talk to someone."
"I know!" He snapped, whirling to face Anakin head on. "That's what I was doing with Liax! But then he started asking more serious questions and at first I wasn't going to answer, but then it started slipping out." His voice seemed to be getting weaker. "And then I'd told him, and I couldn't un-tell it.." He hung his head and trailed off into nothing, put his hand over his mouth, pressing the feeling back in.
"Whatever you told him, it’s confidential. It’s not going anywhere. It doesn’t matter that he knows, you know.”
Obi-wan wrung his hands, head hung low. “It’s not just that he knows, it’s that it happened at all. If he knows, then he knows! And then he’ll see me completely, he’ll know that I’m disgusting, and false, and once he sees the others will see,” his breaths started to get thicker, “and then all of a sudden everyone will know!”
“Master, you’re not making sense no one is going to find out anything-”
“And I don’t know which one is worse.” Obi-wan muttered, shoulders slumping as any remaining energy drained from him.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know which is worse,” he said quietly. “Telling somebody, or never speaking of it at all.”
It was still.
“Obi-wan,” Anakin, ever persistent, put a hand on his shoulder. “You can talk to me about anything, and whatever it is, I’m on your side. But you’re scaring me. Whatever it is, you can’t go through this alone. Whatever it is, I’m not going to judge you for it.”
“You don’t know what it is. I’m, if you knew, you’d.” He paused. “I can’t. You’d think I was disgusting. You’d be ashamed of me. I know it.”
Anakin recoiled, and for a moment Obi-wan was crushed, then he realized he’d recoiled in indignation. “There isn’t anything that-you’ve seen me through everything, and you’re still here by my side! There’s nothing that could happen that would make me ashamed of you. You’re my old master! We’re The Team.” The last bit was said jokingly, but earnestly. Painfully truthful.
Obi-wan considered his words but couldn’t swallow them.
He raised a hand to his mouth and chewed on his knuckles instead. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes,” Anakin said firmly, “I do. You are the strongest person I know, you are my best friend, there isn’t anything that could-”
“They raped me.”
Oh god.
He said it like a dare.
See? He thought vindictively, not looking at Anakin. See? You were wrong. I am disgusting. I am shameful. Worthless, but for one thing. I am my body only. Hot flesh and churning blood, a vessel with a small will that can be ignored and trained-out of me and laughed at. Nerves that can be manipulated and played with and pavloved into a dog’s submission. Weak in every single sense of the word. I am nothing; a speck of dirt they flicked off their shoes at the end of the day.
You’ll say the right words but become distant. I repel you now, for I am pathetic and broken now, and you can’t fix it. I can’t fix it. See?
He looked over to Anakin, prepared to make his excuses and let him off the hook. It would be different now, but Obi-wan loved him and wanted his life to be easy. His jaw hinged to speak, but he stopped, astounded.
Anakin’s hand white knuckled against his own jaw, palm pressed hard against his mouth, water in the corners of his eyes, sorrow and anger woven together in the confused expression he wore.
“I didn’t,” Anakin’s voice was rough. “I didn’t expect that.”
Obi-wan pressed his lips into a line and searched his face, Anakin’s eyes blindly darting about in front of him. There’s nothing there to grab on to, Obi-wan wanted to say, but that would hardly help.
“Are you okay?” There was incredulity in his voice. “No, no that’s a stupid fucking question, kriff, I mean, Obi-wan I can’t believe that, I’m so sorry that happened, is there anything I can do to-”
“Anakin.” Obi-wan took a demonstrative deep breath, shoulders rising and falling. “Take a breath. Anger does not become a Jedi.”
Anakin’s gaze locked on his, distressed, a tear leaking down his cheek. He still took the breath. It felt nice to be able to help for even an instant.
“Now speak.”
“Are you okay?” He shook his head. “No, I mean, Obi-wan that’s never something I’d judge you for! It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything, or ask for anything. What happened to you does not make you weak or pathetic or disgusting, or any of those things! How could you think that I could ever,” his voice wavered, “be ashamed of you?”
Tears came to Obi-wan’s eyes once more. At this rate he would drown in them. They locked gazes, two crying men in a box in the sky.
“I’m so ashamed of myself, you see,” his voice a croaking near-whisper, “I can’t stand it. I don’t know if I can live with it. I just sit there, wallowing in it, like I’ve been wallowing in it. I don’t want,” His cheeks were wet. “I don’t want you to see it and wallow through it with me.”
Anakin swallowed audibly, eyes red too.
“I’m not going to fall in with you. Nobody is. We’ll pull you out.”
Obi-wan felt his face crumple and buried it in his hands again to hide it away from the world, shoulders curling.
“And we’ll kill them all.” Obi-wan’s glanced up.
Anakin met his eyes, steel firm resolve solid and set in his eyes. The heat of Anakin’s anger was a welcome warmth, and it was a twisted kind of joy to feel cared for by the amount of anger a friend feels on one’s behalf, but it touched him nevertheless.
“They’ve moved on by now, Anakin.” He kept his voice calm, soothing, though he didn’t feel so himself. “They captured the head honchos of everybody at the ring. The clientele was reprimanded. And,” he paused, then decided that today was a day of divulging secrets, “nobody who touched me will be a problem again.” He met Anakin’s eyes, not with pride, but with finality. This wasn’t an act he was proud of, but he’d done it, and wouldn’t cower from it. Anakin nodded once, filling his lungs once more before sighing heavily. The hatred in his eyes fizzled ever so slightly, knowing the target had already been vanquished.
“Good.” The rage melted out of his expression, sympathy seeping in once more.
“It’s going to be okay, you know,” Anakin said, voice lilting upwards like a question. He didn’t respond. “Obi-wan? It’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out. We always have. You’ve been through so much. You’ll get through this too.”
He still didn’t say anything and Anakin, beloved Anakin, pushed onward. “It’ll be okay, Obi-wan.” It was a statement. He would be okay because Anakin said so. Sure.
Obi-wan sighed. “It better be.”
…………………………………….
He allowed Anakin to slowly push him out of his hiding spot and coax him back down the ladder. He didn’t want to face Cody or his troops, and even though Anakin was being kind, he didn’t want to look at him and see pity. Plus, Anakin didn’t know everything; he only knew three words of it. Obi-wan hadn’t told him the parts that kept him up at night.
He could barely admit it to himself but the nightmares kept him accountable at least internally.
It wasn’t the pain that he woke from screaming, but pleasure.
He sighed as they moved down the hall, every step closer to all the people he most didn’t want to see. Anakin wouldn’t tell anyone, he knew, but he still had to face the shame of running away.
He could maybe delay it, though.
“How about we just go to my chambers for dinner? I can call Cody and message the receptionist at the healers and just tell them I’m fine. Or that you’ve found me.”
“They know you’re fine,” Anakin said, not breaking stride, “and we already messaged them to tell them you’ve been found, but Cody still wants to see you. And Liax still recommends a check up.”
“We should message them again and tell them it isn’t necessary.” Obi-wan thought it over then nodded to himself. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”
Just then a pair of younglings ran by them, nearly colliding with Obi-wan.
“Be respectful!” Anakin admonished, perhaps too defensive, and they both stumbled to a halt, ears turning pink.
“Sorry Master,” one mumbled reverently, “yeah sorry,” the other echoed. Then they talked over each other.
“We were just-” “There was this duel happening soon and-”
Obi-wan smiled, filled suddenly with the old familiarity of being a Jedi, a part of something bigger. He hadn’t felt like a Jedi in a while. “Nevermind, off with you. Take care not to bump into any other masters in your hurry. Master Windu won’t be as forgiving.” He said it jokingly, but the children paled considerably. Anakin snorted at the sight and Obi-wan elbowed him. Anakin turned it into a cough.
They both gave harried bows and scurried away. Obi-wan and Anakin stood and wistfully watched them go.
Anakin sighed. “Were we ever that young?”
Obi-wan huffed a laugh. “You certainly were. I can assure you that you made far more of ruckus than those two could ever manage.”
Anakin chuckled but didn’t refute it, and they both sat in the pleasantness for a moment.
Obi-wan sighed, breaking the silence. “I just want to go back and read a novel tonight. I want to feel normal. Can’t we do that?”
Anakin knit his brow and considered him for a moment. It was a little strange to be asking permission from him, but Obi-wan knew Anakin; he wouldn’t lay off unless he thought it was his idea to do so or if he granted permission himself. Endearing and annoying in equal measure.
“Alright. But you have to go see Liax tomorrow.”
Obi-wan nodded. He’d thought as much. He turned and started to stride down the hall once more. Anakin followed in his wake, and it felt good to lead the way again. Like old times.
“Okay.” Anakin nodded to himself. “I’ll message Cody and tell him I’m staying with you for now, and then I’ll call reception and-” he reached for the spot on his belt where his comm usually sat. Then he glared at Obi-wan, though without much heat.
“I need to borrow your comm. You broke mine.”
Obi-wan looked away, sheepish. “Of course. Apologies.”
……………………..
He opened the door to his chambers and they both winced at the state of things, though Anakin tried to hide it.
“That’s kind of you,” Obi-wan said when Anakin visibly schooled his expression and bit his tongue, “but not necessary. I am well aware of what it looks like in here.” He grinned joylessly. “I have been letting it fall off a bit.”
Anakin’s gaze turned to Obi-wan’s plants, all which looked, for the lack of a better word, thirsty.
“You could have told me it was like this.”
Obi-wan waved a hand. “Hardly.” He tried to redirect. Maybe having Anakin here was a mistake. He tried to redirect. “ I’ve seen your chambers look far worse.”
Anakin didn’t let him get away with it. “Yeah but that’s just me. When you get messy, I know there’s something wrong. And this is a lot of mess for you. And it’s so dark in here!” Well that was because Obi-wan had drawn the blinds and kept them closed. Obi-wan looked at the dishes in the sink that had been there since before he got back. They were starting to smell. The greater space wasn’t looking fantastic either.
His clean laundry basket on the couch had been dirtied by the dirtier clothes he’d thrown on top. His shoes were scattered, muck from the battle tracked in almost a week ago still not cleaned up. He didn’t have to look in his fresher to know that he’d scattered his first aid supplies all over the place when he’d tried to clean himself up. His bed was rumpled and messy from tossing and turning while he slept, dusty pillows thrown onto dustier floors.
Maybe Anakin should go. Obi-wan didn’t really feel much like cleaning right now, he kind of just wanted to huddle. Too much disruption probably wasn’t a good thing.
Anakin walked over to the blinds and pulled them open before Obi-wan could stop him. The city buzzed outside, as alive as ever, the tallest buildings golden with the sun as it started to dip below the horizon. The crisp clean outdoors made the rest of his life seem more soiled.
He hung his head a little bit and didn’t notice Anakin walking to stand in front of him until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Stop worrying. It’s fine. It’s better with the light in here, isn’t it?” Obi-wan raised his head. His plants did look a bit greener, and everything was a bit less gray now. He felt a breeze on his face and realized Anakin had opened the windows.
“I can do it myself.” It came out a bit more hostile than he meant it.
Anakin only rolled his eyes. “Trust me I know how good you are at cleaning. But you wanted to read, so read! I’ll make some tea and water the plants, and then we can order something for dinner. Everything else can be done later.”
Obi-wan was annoyed about how relieved he was that Anakin wanted to help, and how humiliating it felt to need it. He sighed and stood in the center of his living room as Anakin went for a pitcher, frozen in thought.
He was still there when Anakin came back to water the plants.
“Seriously master! Just sit down, it’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine though. Anakin didn’t understand. He doesn’t know everything, he thought. He wouldn’t help you if he knew how complicit you were.
“You don’t know all the details.” He said it hesitantly. He didn’t want Anakin to know everything.
Anakin scoffed. “Watering plants is pretty straightforward.”
“No I mean, about…” he trailed off, and the levity drained off Anakin’s face.
“I don’t need to know the details.”
“You forgave me too quickly. You don’t understand what happened. I think if you did, you wouldn’t be trying to help me right now.”
The water in the pitcher sloshed as Anakin gesticulated with his hands. “I can tell you for a fact that whatever happened, I would not judge you for it, and you need to sit because you’ve had a long day.”
Obi-wan didn’t feel convinced.
“I’m here because I want to be, okay? You’re overthinking right now.”
He grabbed Obi-wan’s shoulders and pushed him backwards until his knees hit the couch and he sat heavily onto it. “Anakin,”
“Just sit, alight?” Anakin shoved a datapad into his hands and walked towards the kitchen. “Pick a book on here, I know you have a million. I’ll make us tea. And I have some paperwork I need to catch up on.”
“It was my fault, though. At least partly. Do you understand that?”
Anakin scoffed, then looked uncomfortable. “It couldn’t be your fault, that’s the definition of,” his expression shuttered and he hesitated for a split second, ‘“well, rape.”
“No I know, I,” he felt the appalling prickle of tears once more. He fisted his hands on the couch cushions. “They made me do things I didn’t want to and, they did things to me,” he choked out, “but sometimes they made me,” he stopped. “Forget it.”
Anakin was quiet for a second. “If you need to say it, I’ll hear it. Nothing will change what I’ve said about it not being your fault.”
Obi-wan didn’t look up, and instead watched his fingernails turn white, then pink, then white again as he clenched his hand in the scratchy cushions.
“It doesn’t matter.” Yes, it was better not to say. What was the purpose in saying it? Anakin couldn’t know what he’d done. He couldn’t know how much of it he’d let happen. He couldn’t explain it to himself, so how could he ever justify it to someone else?
At the end of the day, he needed absolution from someone. He needed people to be on his side, and for them to say that it wasn’t his doing, even if it was. He needed people to tell him that what had happened was fucked up, and for that to happen they couldn’t know that he’d enjoyed some of what had occured. Anakin couldn’t know the bits that made him responsible and complicit in his own undoing, or his empathy would crumble off of the sand foundations on which he’d forced it to stand. He was already weak. He didn’t need to be seen as guilty.
Still, Anakin didn’t break the silence, still watching him cautiously, waiting for him to explain.
Obi-wan started to stand up. “I don’t need the company, really, you don’t have to stick around.”
Anakin sighed and a look of frustration crossed his face. “I don’t want you to tell me if you don’t want to, but I want you to be safe. We were worried that you were going to kill yourself.” He said it bluntly. Harshly. “I hadn’t thought you were capable of something like that until today, Obi-wan.”
Obi-wan shrank from his words. “I’m not.”
“But you discussed it with Liax. You’ve thought about it before.” Anakin said it accusingly, like Obi-wan wanted to feel that way. He started to feel defensive.
“It’s not like I want to die! You can’t possibly understand the shame of-” Obi-wan stopped, voice stoppered by things he couldn’t admit to. “You don’t have to live with it.”
When Obi-wan finally looked him in the eye, bolstered by his own defense, Anakin was looking at him very matter-of-fact. “You’re right. I don’t. I don’t understand what it’s like and I don’t have to live with it. I don’t really understand anything, to be honest.”
In another, lighter, conversation, Obi-wan would have jumped on that.
“But I worry. Cody worries. Ahsoka worries. We want you to be okay. Leaning on people can help. And I want to help.”
Obi-wan felt bad for the people who cared for him. Loving him had never been easy, and he was only making it harder. He sighed.
“I’m not going to kill myself. It’s just a,” his jaw worked, searching for the right balance between honesty and putting Anakin’s mind at ease, “a fantasy. An easy way out. It’s not something I would do, because I know how it would affect people.”
Anakin pressed his lips into a thin line. “Yeah, so I’m glad you don’t want to kill yourself, but it should be for you, not others, that you don’t want to die.” He brushed it off and moved on. “We’ll work on it! I don’t know how, but we will! “ He smiled at him. “Now lean back, read your stupid book, and I’ll bring tea, okay?”
Obi-wan smiled weakly back. “Right after you water the plants, right?” He gestured to the pitcher in Anakin’s hand. Anakin looked at it, then back at Obi-wan with a deadpan expression. “Yes. After I’ve watered the plants.”
Chapter Text
The night wasn’t a restful one. He didn’t have those anymore, but this one he was kept up not by nightmares, or flashbacks, but by the reality his own insecurities he had created.
He hated that he’d spoken. He rubbed his fists into his eyes as he lay flat on his back, covers kicked around his feet from his agonized tossing and turning. If he’d just been stoic he could be resting in bed right now, unconscious at the very least. What were the others thinking? Liax knew, Anakin knew, and though he hadn’t seen any pity yet, it was only a matter of time. They would see him as fragile, a broken disgusting thing, ruined from now onwards. He almost didn’t want to use the force for fear that he would make it putrid. A pan of milk to be spoiled.
He knew the healers would likely press for details, but he was feeling volatile and untethered and unable to deal with that. He didn’t trust himself to come up with something clever or distracting, and didn’t have the energy right now to do anything but overthink the horrible day he’d created.
Even as he’d admitted the nature of the capture, he’d been unsure whether the relief or regret had been stronger.
Frustrated tears prickled behind his eyes. They didn’t even know the details! It was all just so humiliating. What if by telling other people they were able to see his body the way it had been made now? He was transactional, and to discuss it more only solidified that truth.
Obi-wan stayed in that haze, eyes unblinkingly dry, the ceiling as bland and boring as he wished his life was. The room was pitch, then started to go gray as the sun started to come up. There was nothing Obi-wan dreaded as much as the next day. Existence had been made so difficult, and an aimless hatred welled up in him at the thought.
His legs ached from being still, his back stiff where the blood had pooled. He imagined for a moment that he was a corpse, liver mortis settling in, heavy and still where the gravity pulled at him. His heart churned on, so he shifted with a grunt and put his feet on the floor. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he would leave this room.
……………………………
Anakin’s comm went off seemingly right after he’d fallen asleep.
BEEP BEEP BEEP. He was on his feet and speaking before he’d registered that he was awake.
“Skywalker here, what is it?” He blinked the light out of his eyes and checked the clock. Nearly 0800 hours. He felt a flicker of annoyance to be woken on his day off; if it was up to him he would languish for as long as he could get away with, but there was always much to do.
“Skywalker. The council needs your input on intel collected from Enarc. As soon as possible.”
Windu. Straightforward as usual. He blinked as he registered the words. Enarc was the planet where Obi-wan had been kept prisoner.
“Right now?” It was too early for such heavy discussion.
“Are you otherwise occupied?” Windu snipped.
“I was,” Anakin muttered, and hologram Windu narrowed his eyes. The haze of sleep split from his head completely as he pulled on his tunic and shoved his feet in his boots.
“What can I do that you guys can’t?” Windu ignored his rudeness.
“You have the most information on the subject due to your closeness to Obi-wan.”
Anakin waited for him to go on, and prodded when he didn’t. “And?” He pressed the button to his chambers and the door slid open, feet propelling him down the hall.
“And we need all the information we can get. You’re the one who told us he’d been found yesterday, and the medical staff is bound by patient-doctor confidentiality.”
Anakin ran his tongue over his teeth. He only now realized he’d forgotten to brush them. “So what, you want me to tell you anything that he told me?”
“Just get here as soon as you can.” Windu cut the call. Anakin rolled his eyes. As if.
………………………
When he got to the Council chamber it was just Windu and Coleman Kcaj, both with their backs to the door, engrossed in some holograms projected from datapads on the table. He was holding a cup of steaming caf just to make it clear he’d dallied but neither seemed to notice. Anakin hesitated for a moment, unsure as to what intel they had found, then strode into the room wearing a false confidence he did not feel.
“What can I help you with, masters?” He injected a false politeness into his tone, and he noticed Windu’s eyes narrow slightly and tried not to smile.
Kcaj nodded at him. “Thank you for coming at such short notice. We understand you have many duties to attend to.”
Anakin nodded solemnly, trying not to side eye Windu as he did so.
Windu sighed out of his nose then gestured towards the holograms. “When we were on Enarc, we managed to upload some of the information about the citizens there, and the separatist plans the Vizier had. We received intel that human trafficking and prostitution rings were sheltered here, and people were being moved at high rates. Name changes and identification numbers were easily changed to make missing persons more difficult to track, but we've restored some of the earlier deleted data with the original names.”
Anakin squinted.
Kcaj chimed in. “We have a list of about 40 percent of the victims original names, later changed to deter authorities, bounty hunters, whoever they thought would be looking.” Kcaj paused, then looked to Anakin meaningfully. “Obi-wan's name was on that list.”
Anakin worked hard to make his expression impenetrable. “Has the list been shared with anyone?”
Windu was watching him. “This doesn't surprise you.”
Anakin glared at him. “Human trafficking and prostitution are standard. Many Jedi have been trafficked and escaped before.”
“Obi-wan was prostituted. According to these records.”
Anakin looked at the list that Windu pointed at, then looked away quickly to quell the rising nausea. Obi-wan hadn’t been forthcoming yesterday, and this was far worse than he'd allowed himself to imagine. He took a breath in through his nose, then glared at Windu.
“Did he confirm that with you?” Anakin snarled, “or are you just taking that record and believing everything it says?”
Windu met his stare. “We need to know if one of our own has been damaged so we can help them heal and replace that member if necessary. He can also offer us more detailed intel.”
Anakin scoffed. “I can't believe you. First off, I will not be telling you anything Obi-wan hasn't explicitly decided to share first. Those records could be bantha shit as far as I know. Second, Obi-wan is more than what he can do for the order. He isn't damaged, or broken. He doesn't need to be replaced, he needs help!”
Windu's expression flickered then turned to stone once more. “I said that.” His tone was flat. Anakin wanted to strangle him.
Instead he turned on his heel and started walking for the door. “Obi-wan was my master. I'm not gonna tell his secrets, Windu. Your people are human, even though you aren't.”
“We need to call him in for an interview.” Windu called out. “He wasn't honest with us during the first debrief.”
Anakin stopped, fuming, then turned back. Kcaj met his gaze for a moment, then dropped it to the floor. Windu was impenetrable.
“Can't imagine why.”
He strode away, and they let him go. He was somewhat shocked at his own insolence. He could feel the glare burning through his back as he stepped out the door. He walked with purpose. The last thing Obi-wan needed was a council interrogation. He needed to warn him.
……………………
Obi-wan regretted deciding on an early appointment. When he'd messaged Liax about the time, he'd apologized for yesterday’s, well, breakdown, and then asked to get it over with as soon as possible. 8 o'clock sharp.
It was 7:58 and he was shaking in the waiting room. He felt like a deer trembling in the middle of a highway, waiting to be plowed over. Frozen in place. He abruptly got to his feet. He didn’t have to be stuck in place. There were other options. He turned to flee.
“Obi-wan Kenobi?” The receptionist called. His shoulders slumped. And he turned around.
She was watching him warningly. “Your practitioner is ready.” Obviously she knew he was a flight risk. He felt a stab of guilt for a moment. He was acting so irrationally. He didn’t feel like himself. Anakin’s worried face flitted across his mind, and the guilt was replaced with shame, replaced with the need to run that he’d been fighting with in the first place.
The receptionist had started walking away, expecting Obi-wan to be following her, and he strode quickly to catch her, cursing himself all the while. He tried to formulate a plan, but all he could do was watch her ponytail sway back and forth in front of him and grind his teeth into sand as they walked. Unfortunately it wasn’t far and he was stepping into a little room like his last appointment before he knew it.
The door closed behind him, and he looked about, then made the conscious decision to sit in the chair rather than on the table. This would be a conversation of equals. Liax had been perfectly respectful last time, but Obi-wan had been in his underclothes on crumply paper. Undignified. He smoothed his hands down the front of his robes, and stroked a hand over his beard as he settled himself in the chair, aiming for a look of composure. He felt he achieved it, other than the bags under his eyes, and visible lacerations, healing slowly.
The door opened and Obi-wan turned to watch Liax step through. He was a little flushed, with stress perhaps, the pigment turning the blue of his skin a little bit purple, and his polished black curls of yesterday were looking a little bit disheveled, but he still gave Obi-wan an open smile.
“Master Kenobi. Good morning.”
Obi-wan smiled back with his mouth. “Good morning, Liax. I want to apologize formally for yesterday.”
Liax put down his datapad and took a seat by the holo computer. He shook his head, brow furrowed in concentration. “Don’t apologize. It was my mistake. I am your practitioner and I am supposed to make you feel safe and comfortable discussing these things, even if it is protocol. You ran to protect yourself.” He watched Obi-wan with a careful eye, and Obi-wan felt his own gaze harden. He was disappointed with the immediate jump into exactly what he didn’t want to talk about.
“Yes. I suppose so.” Maybe hapless agreement would help. There was a long silence, and when it became clear that Obi-wan wasn’t going to say anything else, Liax nodded his head and turned towards the computer.
“I am going to open your file just so we have it here if we need to, but we don’t need to continue through the protocol today. What I want to do with you is discuss how you’re feeling today, and what we can do going forward with a therapist or practitioner you trust. Then after a number of sessions or treatments, we can finish the protocol and put you back on duty. How does that sound?” His expression was compassionate and disarming, so it took a second for Obi-wan to fully register his words. When he did, he glowered.
“Absolutely not. I am here to complete the protocol and leave. I’ve taken a week off to recover, so I still have another couple weeks to heal from my injuries, and then I am needed once more.” He took a breath. His hands felt shaky, and he’d raised his voice too much. Liax was regarding him with a guarded look in his eyes.“ I will not be attending any more sessions than this,” he said firmly.
“Master Kenobi-”
“Don’t try it. I just need to go through the protocol and pass. I am capable of answering your questions correctly. I can assure you that Master Windu will not appreciate you stopping me from doing my job. People will die without me.”
Liax let him stew for a moment before responding. “I understand you want to get back to work. I am aware of the pressures on you. But you will not be able to do your job if you are struggling in the ways I believe that you are. You can’t help anyone if you can’t help yourself.”
Obi-wan threw his arms up. “Everybody is exaggerating! I am not in danger, I am not a threat to myself or others, and I am fine . I’m sick of saying that.”
“Then stop saying that.” Liax’s eyes were unyielding. There was a pause as Obi-wan glared at Liax, and Liax looked calmly back.
“Master Kenobi, it isn’t my job to worry about the lives you need to save. I am concerned with your life. And I won’t let the war, your place in it, the other Jedi, or even you get in the way of that.”
“I don’t care. Do your job, sign what you need to sign, approve what you need to approve, and get me back out there. That’s the way it was done before.”
Liax shook his head, corners of his mouth twisting downwards in displeasure. “That’s not how it should have been done. I’ve already sent inquiries into the last two healers that were supposed to help you, and their cases will be investigated. I can’t give you the stamp of approval with a clear conscience.”
Obi-wan worked his jaw, frustrated. “I don’t care about your conscience.”
The corner of Liax’s mouth quirked up slightly. “And I don’t care that you don’t care.”
Obi-wan huffed and leaned back in his chair, hand coming up automatically to stroke his beard. “And what if I do decide to get Mace Windu involved? He would make you approve me for work.”
“He can’t. He has no jurisdiction here. It would be a humanitarian issue, which I would be happy to bring to my boss. Our job is to help you.”
Obi-wan didn’t respond to that. It was true. Mace didn’t have jurisdiction, but for some reason he thought that threatening Liax with him would be enough.
He squinted at Liax. “So my only option is to do these sessions with you?”
Liax nodded his head. “It doesn’t have to be with me, though. Anyone you are comfortable talking to. We are not asking you to tell all. The goal is to give you tools to deal with what has happened to you in a healthy way that allows you to function and be content.”
Obi-wan nodded slowly, agreeing outwardly, but inwardly still trying to come up with an out. “How many sessions would this be?”
“As many as I deem necessary until you can pass the protocol.”
Obi-wan nodded briskly. “Fine. Then let’s start.”
“We can’t start today. We can’t start in a negative space. I want you to feel safe and understood, not combative.”
Obi-wan took a deep breath for patience. His smile had ice in it. “I am not feeling combative.”
Liax looked pointedly at where Obi-wan’s hands rested on the armrests. Obi-wan looked down and flushed, then consciously unclenched his fists from where he’d been white knuckling them into the fabric.
Liax watched him neutrally. “I am not your enemy, Master Kenobi. I am a support system.”
Obi-wan ignored that. “If we aren’t starting today, then why am I here?”
Liax looked apologetic. “I won’t continue with questions, but due to the nature of our conversation yesterday, the next step of the protocol involves some blood testing and other tests to ensure you don’t have any sexually transmitted infections or diseases.”
Obi-wan grimaced and ducked his head instinctually. His hand came back to his beard and he started rubbing at it roughly, almost painfully. He didn’t say anything.
“Master Kenobi?”
“Obi-wan. Call me Obi-wan,” he bit out between clenched teeth. He could feel that his original poise and composure was completely gone and couldn’t stand the idea of master being associated with this level of disarray.
“Okay. Obi-wan, how does that sound to you?”
He scoffed. “How do you think it sounds? Just cause I admitted something to you yesterday in a moment of stress and duress does not mean I am okay with discussing it further or, or, or, doing these, these tests and, and-” his hands were gesticulating without his permission, and they trembled in front of him. The idea of someone examining him, of taking off his robes and someone seeing him again. The idea of actually being sick or infected in some way that he couldn’t just immediately get rid of, being touched on the inside still? His tongue was thick and he wanted to leave.
His breathing started to quicken. “Fuck, this is so stupid, I’m not trying to do this, this is exactly why I didn’t want another appointment.” He whipped his head up to glare at Liax angrily, then buried his face in his hands to hide it.
Liax held out his hands placatingly. “Shhh, look into my eyes, Obi-wan, take a deep breath. In with me, and out with me. In and out, come on, that’s it.”
Obi-wan wanted to protest that this was inane and unnecessary, he just needed to be alone and normal for a karking minute, but his lips wouldn’t form words, and his vision was blurry with the tears that pooled in the corners of his eyes. Anything he wanted to say died, and he focused on Liax as he breathed in, moving his shoulders with him. It was embarrassing to look at him for so long, so his eyes flickered towards the floor, and his breathing started to flounder again. Why was this happening? He couldn’t believe it, he was so out of control and weak and-
“No, no, Obi-wan look at me, look at me, yes that’s it. Breathe with me again, you’re doing everything you need to right now. That’s it, in and out.” In and out, in and out, together and easy and smooth. The eye contact was long, and could have been awkward, but Liax’s eyes were a deep blue, and they stared steadfastly into Obi-wan’s, unflinchingly. There was nothing but a firm constancy in his expression, so Obi-wan locked eyes as long as he needed to.
Once his breathing had returned to normal, the shame crawled up his throat in a choking wave and he hunched over, putting his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. It was quiet. Liax was giving him a moment.
Once he’d gathered himself, Obi-wan raised his head, but couldn’t quite meet Liax’s eyes. “I apologize.”
“No apology necessary. This is difficult. Panic attacks are normal.”
Obi-wan scrunched his brow. “Normal? That was not a normal reaction to a conversation.”
“An abnormal reaction to abnormal circumstances is normal behaviour.”
Obi-wan rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. They sat for a moment, and Obi-wan watched his feet, unable to think of anything to say. He couldn’t get tested today, but he knew it needed to be done. The sooner the better.
“Here’s what I think we should do for now.” Liax turned to the computer, clicking about on his mouse. “The testing should be done sooner than later,” Obi-wan bit his lip harshly, and Liax was quick to reassure him, “but we won’t do it right now. This is a stressful event, so I want to lay out your options to give you some control over the situation and control some of that anxiety surrounding it. How does that sound?”
Obi-wan nodded.
“Alright. There are several things we can do. We can get a droid to do it, most people don’t prefer that, but ensuring it is impersonal might be better for you. We can get someone to come with you to the appointment and wait outside so that you have the emotional support of someone you are close to. I want you to think about which option you prefer and we’ll discuss it tomorrow. This isn’t something that is happening to you, Obi-wan. You are making a decision here to guide us.”
Obi-wan nodded again. Liax was speaking softly, like he was a spooked horse, but he supposed he was acting like one.
“We will cut the rest of the session short for today, but I will formally start your sessions tomorrow with a talk therapist, though if you're comfortable hopefully we can focus on the exam tomorrow. I am currently your therapist, but is there anyone else you would prefer? Someone of a gender? Age? Or just someone else?”
Obi-wan wrinkled his nose. He’d only spoken to Liax twice now, but the idea of anyone else discussing this with him was terrible. He shook his head. “No, I don’t want to talk to anyone else.” His voice was a little hoarse, and he ran a hand through his hair to put it back in line.
“Alright.” He clicked on the screen. “So, I will send you the location for the appointment tomorrow. It won’t be here, it’ll be somewhere better. Is there a time you prefer?”
Obi-wan huffed out a laugh. He couldn’t believe he’d come in here with the intention of just lying his way through the protocol. He was so pathetic. He scrubbed a hand over his face. His chin was going to be sore if he kept rubbing at it.
“Obi-wan?” he raised his head. Liax was looking at him imploringly. He waved a hand and hunched over, head hanging between his shoulders. “No, I don’t care when.” He didn’t look up, but could feel Liax looking at him.
“There is no shame in this.” He heard the creak of Liax’s chair, and Liax stopped typing to address him fully. That was not what he wanted.
Obi-wan shook his head. “Whatever, I understand, I’ll be there tomorrow. Can I go now?” He started to push himself up.
“Just a moment, please, we’re almost done then you’ll be free for the day, okay?”
Obi-wan relaxed his grip on the armrests and sat back again. He just wanted to hide from everything.
“I want you to, Obi-wan, look at me please.” Obi-wan had been staring towards the left, purposely avoiding Liax, which was impossible in the small room. “I need to see your eyes.”
Obi-wan glared at the wall. “I am not a child.”
“I know that. But communication is important regardless of age, and eye contact is part of that. I want to make sure you hear what I say.”
Obi-wan scowled but did what he said and looked into his eyes. There was still no judgment there.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. This is a safe space, and there is nothing that happened today to be ashamed of. I want you to call someone who can sit with you and have breakfast or tea or something right now. Does that seem reasonable to you?”
Obi-wan nodded but didn’t move. Liax waited, then prompted him. “Is their contact on your comm?” Obi-wan shook himself and pulled it out.
“Yes.” He flicked through it and Liax waited. He couldn’t face Anakin yet. They’d been calm and peaceful last night, but he wanted normalcy. He wanted someone who didn’t know what was going on to just sit with.
Quinlan’s name came up in the list, an unread message from several days ago lighting up his contact. He’d sent Obi-wan a dumb joke. He opened it. The caption read, “How does a clanker quit? They get fired!” It was accompanied by a short clip of a cartoon droid exploding that played over and over again. Obi-wan scoffed, but he smiled despite himself. He hit the call button before he could think too much about it.
Liax sat back and crossed his arms patiently. Obi-wan could feel himself relaxing as the comm rang. Quinlan had been a support system for so long, and while Obi-wan had often despaired at his antics, they had made him laugh just as frequently.
Quinlan picked up on the second ring, but there was no hologram and his voice was gravelly, so he was probably just waking up.
“Hello? Obi-wan? What's up?”
Obi-wan felt sheepish when he heard the concern in his voice. He should be more forthcoming with his friends. He needed to stop causing them undue worry. He cleared his throat.
“Good morning Quinlan, would you like to go for breakfast? I hope I haven't woken you.”
“No no, I was just getting up.” There was some vague rustling and Obi-wan bit his lip, feeling a little guilty. He looked up at Liax, who just nodded reassuringly.
Quinlan spoked before Obi-wan could. “Why don’t you come here? I’ll put on coffee and we can have eggs or something.” They really didn’t do this often, but even Obi-wan could recognize solitude wouldn’t be productive. He hadn’t exactly reacted well yesterday.
“I’ll be there in fifteen?”
“Perfect, I’ll be human by then.” Quinlan joked, then hung up.
Obi-wan looked up at Liax. “Does that suit you?”
Liax nodded. “I will see you tomorrow. Does 8 am again work?”
Obi-wan shrugged, his urgency to leave returning to him rather abruptly. Liax waited for a response, then nodded at nothing and entered the time for his records.
Obi-wan stood up and hesitated. “Thank you Liax, I appreciate your…patience.”
Liax just smiled good naturedly. “No thanks required. Go for breakfast. I won’t keep you longer.”
Obi-wan shrugged again and waved, the weight on his shoulders lightening with every step he took away from this place. He wanted to shove this morning away and think of other things. So he did.
Chapter 7
Notes:
Little bit of a warning, there is more clear description of some of Obi-wan's captivity in this chapter, nothing graphic, mostly implied, but there is clear like, conditioning and discussion of dehumanization. Just be kind to yourself and keep yourself safe while reading all! I've updated the tags a little bit for this too.
Its not that bad tho fr. Love to you aallll :)) Thanks for your patience with me on this one
Chapter Text
Obi-wan shuffled his feet on the way to Quinlan’s rooms. Liax was clever. If left to his own devices, Obi-wan would have certainly gone off to be on his own.
It was annoying.
His feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and he felt unsteady, like the ground was tilted even if he couldn’t see the it. Obi-wan had always prided himself on his control, or at least on his ability to portray a certain level of control. He was used to looks of respect but he felt see through now, and didn’t want to visit even a close friend while transparent.
Quin Lan’s door approached far too quickly, and Obi-wan still hadn’t decided on what to say by the time he had raised his hand to knock.
The door slid open soundlessly, and a frazzled Quin Lan was there, a wide grin on his face. It was only because Obi-wan knew him so well that he could see veiled concern underneath.
Quin Lan spread his arms wide, his robes slightly wrinkled from their night on the floor. There was crease on the side of his face from sleep still, and Obi-wan could see crusties sticking to the corners of his eyes.
“Obi-wan! It’s not often you call to share breakfast! Come in, come in.” Obi-wan felt a pang of guilt. He really hadn’t kept up with his friendships the way he should have. His returning smile was weak, but genuine, and as Quin Lan waved him in and turned to attend to the caf, Obi-wan stepped inside and kicked off his boots on the mat. He hesitated, then lined them up on the edge of the rug beside Quin Lan’s pile of shoes, then looked around the apartment. He could smell the caf brewing, the curtains open in Quin Lan’s unit, morning sun creeping in, fresh air shifting white curtains gently. The corners were cluttered with abandoned projects, tactical plans, and assorted knick knacks that Quin Lan had collected all his life. Obi-wan took a few disjointed steps, then followed Quin-Lan into the kitchen to pull out a chair at the breakfast table. He snatched up a spring to twist about as he sat down.
Quin Lan was just starting to pour the caf, and he turned to Obi-wan as he did so.
“So? What’s up?”
Obi-wan’s laugh sounded a little forced. “What do you mean?”
Quin-Lan stopped pouring for a moment, hovering the pot above the mug to make eye contact with him. “Come on. I’m not trying to pry, I’m just asking what’s up? How’ve you been?” He grinned again. “You can relax, I’m not going to interrogate you.”
Obi-wan squinted at him for a moment, then consciously relaxed his shoulders from where they’d hunched around his ears.
His lip quirked. “Right you are. I apologize for dropping in on you like this. I just had a session and,” he hesitated, right hand coming to scrub at the back of his neck, left picking at the spring.
Quin Lan placed the mug of caf in front of him. It was steaming hot. Black. Strong. Gorgeous. Obi-wan wrapped his hands around it gratefully and swallowed the lump in his throat.
Quin Lan turned back to the stove. “You don’t have to explain anything. I’m happy just to have your company, so don’t worry.” Obi-wan opened his mouth to apologize but Quin Lan, attention now on a frying pan and eggs, raised a hand without looking at him. “And don’t say sorry for anything. Or you get sunny side up. Runny.” Obi-wan chewed on his lip and tried to tuck away a smile. He hated runny eggs. It was nice that Quin Lan remembered that. Less nice that he was willing to threaten him with it. “Fine. Well thank you for having me at such short notice.”
Quin Lan finished cracking the eggs and added milk. “You know me. I’m a real early bird.”
Obi-wan snorted into his coffee, a little bit sloshing onto the table. Quin Lan chuckled. “Shut up. I’ve accepted my flaws.”
“The Jedi order hasn’t,” Obi-wan quipped.
Quin Lan blew a raspberry at him and put toast in the toaster.
“Really, I appreciate it. I- well I’m sure you were helping to look for me earlier this week?” He didn’t give Quin Lan any time to answer. “Sessions are just difficult and my therapist didn’t want me to be alone after recounting, well, after. And I have some decisions to make regarding treatment and I just don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to spiral again and-”
Quin Lan’s hand covering his startled him enough to stop the end of his sentence and Obi-wan looked up at him. Quin Lan’s hand stopped his own fingers from where they’d been plucking harshly at the sping, forcefully. Painfully. He hadn’t noticed.
“It’s fine, Obi-wan. You aren’t going to spiral. When you aren’t feeling steady, lean on those of us who are, however it looks to lean on us. It doesn’t have to be more than breakfast.” He smiled reassuringly, then his smoke detector went off and he whirled back to his eggs.
His tongue felt thick, but Obi-wan managed a joke anyway. “Let me know if you meet any of these ‘steady’ Jedi I can lean on, that’s good advice.”
“Oh fuck off.”
………………………….
Breakfast was relaxed, light, but not forced. They didn’t avoid heavy subjects; the awareness sat with them, but wasn’t intrusive enough to need discussion. Quin Lan was supportive just by being there, open and accepting as he always had been. Hopefully always would be. It was nice.
It made it difficult to step away from, and when Quin Lan had to attend to other duties, he stood slowly. It felt like Obi-wan had put down a heavy burden by the door, then put it on again when he left.
They’d sat for a while, so by the time he started walking again, it was near to lunch. He considered everything healthy he could do for himself at that moment. He could go train. He was terribly out of shape, having been completely unable to work out for so long. He was still healing though, and his body ached. His very bones felt weak and brittle and he felt scared to test them. What if he went to train and his connection to the force was different? What if his mind to muscle connection was disintegrated now? What if he was legitimately weaker at a fundamental level and incapable of the levels of violence and finesse he needed to survive a war?
Training was out of the question.
He could… go to the gardens? Go for a walk?
No. He didn’t want to see anyone else today. He didn’t want to see Windu. Or Anakin.
It was worse with Anakin. Not only because Anakin knew him so well, or that he’d told him; it was more that Anakin was supposed to look up to him but Obi-wan had been reduced. He felt like less now. He was messed up. It was appalling to be more emotionally volatile than Anakin.
But the idea of going back to his chambers was equally as repulsive. Would he rot there? His soul would. He’d turn off the lights, or punish himself with fluorescents until he moved. Or he’d never move and sit there being punished anyways.
His feet dwindled to a slow stop in the hallway, and he felt suddenly drained of energy so completely, hopelessly heavy. It didn’t really feel like a choice, more necessity, when he sank down to sitting against the wall. He was lucky this hallway was out of the way. He could sit here as long as he needed until he figured out something better. Right now sitting was the only thing he felt was possible.
So Obi-wan sat, mind empty, hall gray and long, white lights above, shining floors below, faint echoes of doors opening and closing, elevators beeping, machines whirring. It was at least ten minutes he sat until he tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Where else could he do? What else better was there to do?
It was a mistake to fall asleep there.
The dream came on very quickly and was unforgivingly vivid. Perhaps it was his sitting position on a cold floor that triggered it, but it was very specific.
There had been one man, one of 3 repeat customers that Obi-wan had had during his time there, who had been capable of a rather exceptional mix of cruelty and kindness. Oran was a handsome Torguata, all strong limbs and graceful movements, someone who could be charming in different circumstances. In regular life, Obi-wan wouldn’t have clocked him as a predator, but then, Obi-wan’s scale of danger was different in real life. He was lucky, he’d realized, to not have to worry about defending himself, practically ever, until the war had struck and he’d been thrust into real danger. Even as a padawan sneaking out to the lower levels of Coruscant, he’d never worried, always sure he’d be more powerful than the strongest drug lord, the most intimidating thugs.
He’d never imagined that the safety he’d been born with could be stolen from him.
Oran’s greatest skill was manipulation, shaping his face and curating his actions, creating any emotion he wanted with near perfect authenticity, all to get the desired response from his prey. Tenderness and pain mixed together, both wielded with precision and sharpness in turn. Fear, relief, shame, he seemed able to conjure them all. A clever twist of words, and Obi-wan would find his aloofness slipping from his grasp. A clever twist of the wrist, and Oran would smile victoriously, face perfectly warm and genuine, eyes always the same. Cold, empty, eyes. Always.
The dream that played was a scenario that had happened near the end. A month didn’t seem like long enough for conditioning to come into play, but habits formed consciously and unconsciously. On this particular day the dream was based on, Obi-wan had been sleeping when he’d woken to Oran stepping into his cell. He sat up and leaned against the wall, looking up expectantly at Oran, who's next step was always to sit next to him.
He didn’t fight Oran anymore. Escape was still something Obi-wan worked at, but fighting this client was ineffective. He’d tried every iteration of it, even just to avoid a specific action or fate he didn’t want to see. But it had only ever made things worse. The bracelet doubled as a shock collar, and was more than enough to keep him in line, even paralyze him temporarily. Pain stacked on top of everything else was sometimes better, but Oran was clever, and would stack him with pleasure, knowing he preferred the pain. It was a sick torment, one made specially for him, and Obi-wan had been shocked silent when comprehension had struck that first time, those first whispered words.
“For every minute you spend fighting me, I will spend that much longer making it good for you.” And he’d followed through.
So when Oran sat beside him on the mat, Obi-wan did what he was supposed to do, and placed his head on Oran’s shoulder, then clasped his hand, his own fingers clammy and cold, weak with resignation.
“What are we doing today?” It was his designated sentence, the first marker of forced complacency.
Oran didn’t say anything for a moment, and Obi-wan sat, body coiling tighter with each instant he didn’t get a response, finally caving and shifting on his shoulder to look up.
Oran looked inordinately pleased with himself, and Obi-wan rankled. “What is it?” He tried not to sound too defensive. He was trying to build strength still, and consistent electrocution did not aid recovery. This place was harsh enough as it was.
“I didn’t have to tell you to begin this time.”
Obi-wan froze, re-running through everything in his head. No. That couldn’t be right, could it?
Every time Oran visited, he said “let’s begin.” It had become a near daily thing. It was Obi-wan’s cue. His starting gun.
But this time he’d done it unconsciously, instantly, without cue. Willingly.
It’d been almost comfortable. Routine.
Obi-wan woke on the cold floor of the hallway, head tilted to the side, knees to his chest, tears running down his cheeks. He was on his feet and moving before he’d really registered that he was awake, robes swishing gently as he rushed to his chambers.
……………………….
Obi-wan was glad that Anakin had helped him clean yesterday, well, that Anakin had cleaned for him yesterday, so that it wasn’t a hellish return to his rooms. He could exist here for now. Maybe he could read. Or watch a holo film.
Everything sounded so horrible though, nothing distracting enough to turn off his head. Every single possible action was more energy than he had, more ability than he possessed. Everything was too much, and he sunk onto the couch, hand on his chest. Were his lungs still breathing? His heart still beating? It seemed impossible that his body churned on endlessly, so separate from the rest of him.
He shook his head and stood up again. He would make more caf. That’s what he needed. Then he could try to find some kind of solution to this. He was Master Obi wan Kenobi, he’d been through so much, he was capable of something more than this dwindling. He’d been back a bit more than a week, and all he’d done was collapse.
He stood up and filled his kettle. Probably more than what one person needed, but it would be nice just to hold a hot cup.
He put the beans in the grinder and switched it on. The loud noise was jarring, but grounding. Maybe he needed to compartmentalize better, like he always had. Why was it so hard this time? He’d been tortured at length, before. What was different? It felt like he’d never really thought about it too much. In the moment he’d depended on the force to carry him through, and in the aftermath, he’d been busy.
It was an uncomfortable thought, but maybe he’d always compartmentalized. Maybe his “releasing it to the force” was actually just his “shoving it in a box and never thinking of it again.”
Okay, well even if that was the case, he could just compartmentalize this too. It was just a different kind of pain, right? It just came with a little extra shame.
Shame, though. Shame was insidious. Shame had been made known to him young. Early slavery, early rejection by Qui gon, the shame of being shoved aside, not being enough, being small, not in stature but in spirit, was memorable.
This was a new shame though. He hadn’t compartmentalized it before. It was painful, surely, but it was bigger than that. It was pain mixed with the reduction of his humanity. In all his experiences of torture, he’d felt, not special, but important. He’d always been captured by enemies who cared about him specifically, looking for information only he had. Or they used him for his position in the order as leverage, his value assured by his position. Torture was by nature dehumanizing, but he hadn’t felt dehumanized in the same way.
Ventress had enjoyed seeing him suffer. He’d suffered deeply at the hands of the sith. But still they’d talked to him, knowing who he was. Maul’s hatred was preferable to the indignity of indifference, of one’s whole being compressed, used for a wet gush, a cheap burst of pleasure. How could his life, his self, be worth less than that? It was difficult to stomach even once. But to swallow that truth over and over in the course of weeks had crushed his spirit. At the beginning he’d begged. It was better to beg than to be used. But sometimes they liked that. So then he tried not to. Sometimes he would cry, but sometimes they liked that too.
The kettle hummed and Obi-wan jolted, tearing his hands from where they were clenched on the counter. He picked it up and carefully tipped it, opting for the fancier pour over. The water soaked the beans completely and the filter drained slowly, so Obi-wan had to pour in increments lest it spill over the edge.
He watched the last of the water drip through, the pot below filling. He methodically poured a cup. Compartmentalizing wasn’t going to work. Shame wasn’t just shame either, it came with a twisted knot of guilt, self loathing, disgust, and- he picked up the cup and went to sit on the couch, staring sightlessly. The cup was too hot, but he clutched it anyway. It seemed to anchor him here. It was tangible and real and scalding against his fingers.
He reached for the remote and flipped on the television. He didn’t have the focus to read, but maybe he could find something relaxing and tuck his brain into that for a while.
………………………………..
Anakin stood in front of Obi-wan’s door that evening, hesitating with his arm outstretched to knock. If Obi-wan hadn’t heard him yet, he would sense him in the force soon.
That is, if he checked. Which he might not.
Anakin wanted to speak normally with him, just relax, chill. He thought they needed some normalcy today after all the chaos of the last couple days. Obi-wan certainly didn’t need any in depth discussion with him. Plus, Anakin wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear anything that Obi-wan had to say. He would, but hearing of Obi-wan’s suffering was painful. It was selfish to want to avoid even hearing of it while Obi-wan had lived through it, but it was difficult to comprehend. Or discuss.
Plus he knew that Obi-wan wasn’t made of glass, but he didn’t want to… trigger him? Or something like that. Obi-wan definitely wouldn’t appreciate that sentiment, so Anakin tried to stifle any action that the feeling led to.
He’d pretty much spent the day going through his duties, thinking about what Windu had said and being generally pissed off about it. Obi-wan did not need to be interrogated right now, he needed to be supported and given the space he needed from his duties. Windu was a piece of Bantha Shit.
So yeah Anakin had spent the day controlling his anger enough to see Obi-wan and not immediately have it be recognized. But it was important that Obi-wan knew Anakin wasn’t abandoning him after yesterday’s discussion.
He huffed out his nose, frustrated with his own inaction. It was dark out now, but Obi-wan probably wasn’t asleep. He knocked on the door and waited.
Nothing. Maybe he was asleep? It was barely 8 O’clock. Though he had been holding irregular hours of sleep, so maybe he was. He knocked again, a little longer this time, and received an answering shuffle. Another couple seconds and Obi-wan called through the door.
“Yes? Who is it?”
Anakin frowned, Obi-wan would usually have used the force to check who it was. Now that he thought of it, maybe Obi-wan was avoiding using the force? He hadn’t seen him use it at all since he’d been back.
“It’s me, Master, can I come in?”
There was a slight pause and rustled movement. A light flickered on under the door, then another. “Yes, come in Anakin.”
Anakin pressed in the code and the door slid open. Obi-wan sat on his couch, lamps on, the place bathed in warm light, everything looking exactly as he’d left it yesterday except for the coffee pot that now sat at the table. Had Obi-wan just been sitting in the dark?
“Hey Obi-wan, how’s it going?”
The man in question looked gaunt, but he’d looked gaunt since he’d returned. The bruises on his face were fading, and the red seeping into his cornea on the one side had healed. He didn’t seem visibly distressed. Obi-wan smiled at him, though it seemed performative.
“I’m alright, Anakin. Another day, as they say. What brings you here?”
Anakin shrugged and kicked off his shoes, watching out of his peripheral vision as Obi-wan narrowed his eyes. Anakin lined them up before Obi-wan could say anything and watched the crinkles smooth themselves out, keeping his own amusement private.
“Eh. I was bored, wanted to see you. Maybe watch a movie or read or something.” He shrugged, then sat on the couch beside Obi-wan. “Is that okay? I don’t know if you were busy or maybe you’re going to bed early.”
“You know I’m not busy.” Obi-wan snapped. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”
Anakin’s brows shot up. He raised his hands in the air in a gesture of innocence. “Hey, that’s not what I’m doing. And you could be busy with anything. I don’t know your story.”
It was quiet, then Anakin interrupted the silence. “I can leave if you want me to.”
Obi-wan sighed and slumped back into the couch. “No, it’s fine. It’s probably better to have company anyways.” He looked at Anakin suspiciously. “You really just wanted to hang out?”
“Obi-wan, you may not believe this, but I actually do miss you while you’re away, regardless of the reason.” He said it jokingly, but a flicker of tenderness rose up in Obi-wan’s eyes before he tore his gaze away, ostensibly to hide that very flicker of emotion. Anakin blinked against it.
“Fine fine, I can believe you miss my company. I’ve been told I’m very charming.”
“Did I say I miss you? I meant I missed you’RE cooking while you’re away. So sorry for the misunderstanding.”
“Oh yes, of course. It is a shame now that you’ve admitted the real purpose of my company was for the food. It seems I no longer have reason to invite you over now that I realize you are only here to eat.”
“Well I better take advantage of my apparently finite welcome here.” Anakin stood up and wandered to the kitchen. “Watcha got?”
Obi-waved a hand. “I don’t know. Cold coffee? Leftovers maybe?” He didn’t seem overly concerned about it.
Anakin opened the fridge. It was empty, save for a couple rotting vegetables and a piece of pizza. Which he took.
“We can go grocery shopping tomorrow, or the day after. Then your dream of cooking for me can be realized.” Anakin took a big bite. It was still good. Well, it was good enough.
“How kind of you,” Obi-wan deadpanned.
“I’ve been told I’m kind.”
“Kind of dumb, perhaps.”
Anakin laughed and plunked down beside Obi-wan on the couch again. “Good one Master.” Obi wan laughed, and it was the lightest laugh Anakin had heard since his return. It warmed him up a little, and they smiled at each other for a moment.
“Movie?” Obi-wan asked.
“Movie.”
Chapter Text
Obi-wan’s alarm went off in the morning, and the dread pressed so heavily upon his eyelids that Obi-wan could hardly open them.
He’d slept easily, if crookedly, on the couch while Anakin puttered away at a droid next to him, the familiar tinkering acting as a lullaby. He’d woken and shuffled himself to bed when Anakin gone to his apartments for the night and surprisingly had slept rather well, considering.
His examination was today. And he wasn’t going to think about it until he had to.
In order to spend as little time thinking about it as possible, Obi-wan had given himself ten minutes to wake up and leave for his appointment. It was a hustle, but he made a cup of caf to carry, dressed, brushed his teeth, and left with very little going on in his mind. White walls, white floors, white robes. Striding strong, head up, straight, left, and right again, up and to the healers.
He walked up to the desk and only balked when the receptionist looked at him.
“Master Kenobi, for 8 am? Physical?”
She smiled at him expectantly and the silence stretched. Her pupils seemed way too dark, too black, and for a moment Obi-wan thought he would fall into them. The corners of her mouth wavered uncertainly, and Obi-wan shook himself. “Yes, that is correct.”
Her customer service expression returned, thinner than it had been. “Perfect, go ahead and take a seat please, a healer will be with you shortly.”
Obi-wan nodded and tried to tuck away all his visible ticks. No nail picking, no hand wringing, no chewing on his lip, no tearing off the skin on the inside of his mouth with his teeth. He clutched the mug of caf he’d brought with him and opened the top. It smelled good and he bathed his face in the steam, flinching back when it stung, then took compulsive sips, each one too deep and too hot, burning his tongue. He didn’t really care, he’d brought the coffee more to do something with his hands than to enjoy drinking it.
He’d just taken a particularly large swallow, wincing at the sting of it in his esophagus, trailing down into his belly, when he snapped to attention at the sound of his name.
“Obi-wan?” Liax stood at hallway entrance to the body of the medical center, clipboard in his hands, smiling warmly. Obi-wan gulped the rest of his sip down and tried not to let it show on his face when it hit the roilijg acid in his guts, and lurched to his feet.
Liax looked around the nearly empty waiting room, a slight frown on his face, then glanced back at Obi-wan. “You didn’t bring anyone?”
Obi-wan glanced at the ground sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Umm,”
Liax didn’t let him get any further. “Follow me, we’ll talk in the examination room.” His tone was neutral, but Obi-wan felt bowled over by the word 'examination'. He rolled it over on his tongue. His feet shuffled on the carpet and they seemed loud. Ex-am-in-a-tion. A sharp word. The 'x' made it so. 'X', was pretty much the word axe. He’d been examined so many times before. Every new client wanted to look at him and make sure he was suitable. People got off on his humiliation. Hu-mil-i-a-tion. It was just a feeling though, and he didn’t understand why he hadn’t been able to release it to the force yet.
“Obi-wan?”
“What?”
Liax had turned his head and slowed his pace from where he walked ahead of him. Apparently he had been trying to get Obi-wan’s attention.
“I was asking you how your morning has been so far, but you seem a little tired.” It was a graceful inquiry, not too blunt. 'Normal' tired. 'Just woke up and came right here' tired.
“Apologies, I woke up late.” Less graceful, but Liax nodded stopped, gesturing to a doorway on the right, waving Obi-wan ahead of him.
“This is the examination room?” His panic was thinly veiled and his feet wouldn’t go through the door.
“No. This is a discussion room, I made sure we had time to talk before the exam if you wished or if it was necessary. Take a seat please.”
The room was lit warmly. It was intimate, two neutral grey arm chairs mostly facing each other, a sleek lamp with a high bulb spreading warm yellow light through the room. A potted plant stretched upwards in the corner from its brown potted bottom, and a small window showed nothing but sky.
Obi-wan slumped a little with relief then tried to regain a stronger posture as he took his seat. It seemed silly though, to worry about appearances. Liax already knew so much and could apparently see through the facades he tried to put on anyways.
Regardless he smoothed down his robes in his seated position, then wrapped his hands around his mug, not too tight as to be visible, while Liax closed the door and settled into the chair across from him, a datapad in his lap for notes, probably. Obi-wan was glad their chairs were the same. And that Liax didn’t have a desk. Equals, at least, in this.
“So, Obi-wan, how are you? How are you feeling about today?”
“I am alright. I can admit to being anxious to get this over with,” he laughed nervously, “but I was wondering if I can defer it any longer?” It was unlike him to procrastinate like this, but the words just flowed out of him without precognition.
“Unfortunately we really need to start treatment as soon as we can for you. I understand why you want to put this off, but extended treatment for something we didn’t catch early on will be worse than a preliminary exam.” Obi-wan didn’t look at him.
“Obi-wan? Do you understand?” Liax’s eyes were heavy on him.
He cleared his throat. “I thought you said this was my choice? You said this wasn’t something that was happening to me.” His voice was accusing and sharp, but there was a waver he couldn’t control.
He felt a flash of anger. He was tired of being so weak and fragile, but he couldn’t seem to stop breaking and showing people the cracks.
Liax’s made his voice calmer, but Obi-wan still didn’t look at him. “It is your choice, I can’t force you to do this exam, Obi-wan. But I do highly recommend it.” There was a long pause. “And you will need it to be cleared for service, eventually. We can also sedate you for it if you would prefer that.”
Obi-wan’s head shot up. “No! No I will not be sedated, absolutely not.” He glowered at Liax, pleased to see he still could.
Liax let the silence stretch, and the heat of Obi-wan’s glower started to turn inward and burn his insides, so he dropped the anger until it was just him and Liax looking at each other.
“Obi-wan.” He looked down, fiddled with his cup and opened the top again and the smell of coffee wafted upwards. He wondered if he could smell a little burn on the beans now that he thought of it. It didn’t smell as good as it had. Was it making him sick?
“Obi-wan. Please close the lid.”
“Why?” He didn’t know why he felt so combative. He clicked it closed then open again.
Liax sat calmly, obviously unbothered. “We’ve been here before. Do you remember what I said?”
The silence stretched again. Obi-wan was surprised at how effective it was and he had to stop the words from spewing out of him. The bulb in the light hummed for a moment, surprisingly poignant in a room so quiet.
“I said that we couldn’t move forward in a space where you are feeling combative. You need to feel safe. What can I do to make you feel safe, Obi-wan?” Obi-wan could see Liax put his elbows on his knees and lean forward out of the corner of his eye. Obi-wan stared harder at the mug, and flicked the lid closed again.
It was stupid, but he felt tears prick in the backs of his eyes at the question. Safe? What could make him feel safe? He didn’t even know if that was possible anymore.
He was mortified, but he felt water start to pool in the corners of his eyes.
“I don’t know.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He didn’t want to cry, so he bit at the scabs on the inside of his mouth.
“We’ll start there. We’ll start with making you feel safe.”
Obi-wan scoffed a laugh.
“What’s funny about that to you?” Liax’s tone wasn’t judgemental or accusatory, just a genuine question.
“I,” He scowled. “I just don’t even know if that’s possible.”
Liax nodded. “What ‘safe’ means to you is probably going to look different. And feel different. But just because you don’t feel safe right now, in life, in general, doesn’t mean that you won’t or that you can’t.”
Obi-wan took a sip of his coffee and winced at the heat.
Liax leaned forward. “May I?” He held out a hand, and Obi-wan finally looked up at him.
He handed Liax the mug after a moment’s hesitation, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Liax carefully placed it on the side table. “Thank you.” Then he interlocked his fingers and leaned forward again. Obi-wan guffawed.
“Excuse you.”
“It was distracting you. I want you present, with me. Alright?”
A pause.
“Alright.”
“Now, Obi-wan. Tell me, if you would, where do you feel most relaxed, or comfortable, since your return? Where have you been at peace for the most consistent amounts of time?”
“I,” Obi-wan looked over at his mug. “I guess I would say,” he thought about it. Then grimaced. “It’s stupid.”
Obi-wan narrowed his eyes again. “Well, I feel most relaxed right after these appointments. Cause they’re over with. There’s this moment of relief where I don’t think about anything except for that I am free.”
“Except for the times where our discussions have lead to adverse reactions. And ideally we want you to feel relaxed because these sessions have helped you, not because your daily ‘torture’ is over.” The last bit was said with a joking lilt, and a smile quirked across Liax’s lips.
Obi-wan scrunched his brow. “Yes, of course. I understand, but I can’t really think of anything else. Movies, meals with friends, those are good too, but I feel kind of stuck sometimes and not really present. Relaxed isn’t the right word.” He paused. “I feel more like I am waiting for something to happen.”
“What are you waiting for?”
Obi-wan shrugged non commitally. “More of the same, I suppose.” It felt odd to recognize that he still felt like he was there.
“Like you haven’t left yet?” Obi-wan looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
“You need to give yourself some more grace. It hasn’t been a fortnight yet since you returned. Constant vigilance takes time to unlearn.”
Obi-wan knew all of that.
“Here’s what I want to do, Obi-wan,” Liax started, and Obi-wan tensed. “I want to talk about the exam, walk through what you can expect and have you pick how you want it to be done, then afterwards just sit for a bit. It can be a session, or we can be quiet, but however long it takes for you to feel relaxed after is however long we will sit, unless it ends up causing you distress or you don’t want to anymore. I want you to tie that sense of relaxation to this room and to these sessions, consciously and subconsciously.”
“But I can leave whenever I want?”
“Absolutely.” The as long as you are not a danger to yourself or others, didn’t need to be said, and Obi-wan was glad he hadn’t.
“I don’t think that’s going to work.”
“If it doesn’t we will try something else. That’s the best part of therapy is that there are near endless different approaches.” He smiled warmly, and Obi-wan nearly smiled back. “It’s also the worst part about studying to be a therapist,” he joked, and Obi-wan’s lip quirked traitorously.
Liax leaned back in his chair, and Obi-wan felt himself subconsciously mirroring his posture, jaw and hands relaxing, muscles unclenching just a little bit.
“Now,” Liax said, “the exam is not as bad as it sounds. First it is a full body scan, done by either droid or human. Vitals, so heart rate, saturation, blood pressure, and weight. We’ll check reflexes, eyes, ears. The droid or person will do a scan for broken bones and bruising, and a blood draw, and a urine sample. Finally there will need to be a swab of the urethra, and a check of any damaged areas.”
Obi-wan scowled. “That’s overkill. I went to medical when I was freed.”
“They made sure you weren’t going to die and then you vanished,” Liax retorted, and Obi-wan scowled more. Liax plowed onwards.
“Your options are as follows. You can get a droid to do it, a person to do it, or a mix of both, and pick and choose who will do which test. You can be sedated after vitals are checked. You can have someone you trust in the room with you, or you can request a specific medical practitioner.”
“Or I can just not do it at all.”
Liax nodded. “Or you can just not do it at all. If the consequences of that action are something you accept and prefer, then I support you if you truly believe that choice is better for you.”
Obi-wan seriously considered it. He imagined walking away and not coming back, the slow trudge of healing, wounds sealing cleanly and finally. Contrarily, he saw his body festering, he imagined it rotting, more than it already had. Not just filth on his skin but illness. He imagined some disease eating at him, making him even dirtier than he had been. He imagined spend crawling up deep inside him, growing, not like a child but like a tumour, flowering in his lungs, his body grey with mold, invisible except for when he talked and spores came out of his mouth.
He shuddered.
“I’ll do it.”
Liax was watching him closely. “What are you thinking right now?”
“I don’t want to be diseased. I already feel disgusting enough.”
Liax nodded and for a moment Obi-wan thought he was agreeing. Fair enough, you’re pretty gross Master Jedi, but then he was talking again.
“It’s understandable that you feel that way, but you aren’t disgusting. You may be disgusted by what happened to you, or disgusted by the people who did those things. You are not disgusting. Not in the slightest. You are separate from the event and the filth even if it touched you. Do you understand?”
Obi-wan wanted to argue, but he decided not to. He didn’t say anything.
Liax didn’t push it. “We’ll come back to that, but I want to make sure that you aren’t only agreeing to this because you feel disgusting. I want you to be doing it for your own health, and peace of mind. Reducing the stress on your mind is our priority right now.”
“Temporary suffering for longer term benefits?”
“Exactly.”
Obi-wan sighed, and the last of his fight went out of him. “Yes, yes, it is for my health.” And so I’m not disgusting. And so I can return to duty. But he didn’t say that part.
…………………………..
The examination room was cold and way too white, and Obi-wan felt his courage leaving him as he stripped his robes off, replaced by a thin hospital gown. He felt too exposed. Cold. Turn off the lights and it would be similar enough. If he lay down, the thin hospital mattress wouldn’t be dissimilar from the mat he’d had in his cell. Now that he looked closely, the room seemed a little smaller than it had before, and could he hear footsteps echoing on stone outside?
He was just starting to spiral when there was a knock on the door and Liax entered.
He smiled at Obi-wan. “I’ve just turned up the temperature in this room because” Liax gestured around with an exaggerated shiver, “I can practically see my breath in here.” Obi-wan huffed a relieved laugh, Liax’s sudden entrance cutting right through his anxious suspense.
The heater clicked on and Obi-wan could feel the mirage of that cell lifting a little bit from his vision. It was an incredibly thoughtful gesture, really.
“So, as you said, the droid will be here shortly to commence, and it will take about half an hour. You’re still comfortable? You’re still sure you don’t want a friend here? You can change your mind at any time, just tell the droid.”
The only thing that could make this worse was adding witnesses, he thought. They’d already gone through it, and Obi-wan just wanted it done. “I know, I know, I’m good.”
Liax nodded. “And remember, I’ll be outside if you need me. And I have fresh coffee for you afterwards.”
“Oh joy.” Obi-wan deadpanned. That would make all of this worth it.
There was another knock and a whirring sound, and Liax turned to let the droid in and himself out.
“Alright Obi-wan, I-”
“Wait!” Obi-wan grabbed the edge of Liax’s sleeve, and he stopped, hand on the doorknob and turned to face him, surprised. He waited for Obi-wan to speak and Obi-wan dropped his sleeve.
Liax had already witnessed so much, Obi-wan didn’t need to hide from him, surely. And at that moment, the idea of being alone in the room, stripped down and watched again, was too much to handle.
“Do you think, well, I would prefer it if you stayed inside, actually.”
“Alright. If it would make you more comfortable.”
Obi-wan nodded. “Maybe you could just sit and read, or something. Be distracted but there?”
Liax smiled reassuringly. “A calm presence can often make us calmer as well. I can sit and involve myself very deeply in a book if that would help you.”
“Which book?”
“I’m reading a book of essays about the nature of time from a theoretical physics perspective, touching on the matter and thermodynamics of the known universe.”
Obi-wan raised a brow. “Really?”
“Naw.” Liax stepped out to the hallway to grab his shoulder bag, then resettled on a chair in the corner then dug through the bag and pulled out a guidebook. “It’s about birds."
…………………………
The droid was discomfiting. It was smooth, white, and equipped with a customer service voice that was just toneless enough to be chilling.
The beginning of the exam was fine. Standard procedure. Obi-wan sat while vitals were taken, blood was drawn, pressure cup inflating and deflating easily, urine sample collected in the fresher to the side with little hesitance.
It was the physical examination that Obi-wan balked at. The droid pulled a curtain out of the ceiling to cut the room in two to grant him privacy, though from what he could tell Liax hadn’t looked up from his book yet. Obi-wan had glanced his way occasionally, somehow drawing confidence from his silent support, and the curtain drawn between them was concerning.
His gown was flimsy and he shrugged it off easily, then took a quick exhale, attempting to steady his quickly faltering composure.
“You alright Obi-wan?” Liax’s voice felt like it was a long way off, though he knew they still sat feet apart.
“Please prepare for a swab of damaged areas.” The droid whirled its arms and head around, producing various tools and implements from its body, its movements fluid and a little bit too quick. Obi-wan sat on the table, the familiar vulnerability seeping in.
“Obi-wan?”
“Remind me why this necessary, Liax?” His voice came out more solidly than he felt. “There will be no evidence on me, obviously.” He was proud there was no tremble. His fingers were white from clenching the paper he sat on and he had to work not to tear it.
“This isn’t a test for evidence, it’s a test for disease. A swab of potential infected areas and then a test of those swabs, right?”
Obi-wan took a breath. “Right.”
The droid put two arms on his knees with a slight pressure, exposing him to assess any damage, a swab in two pincers.
His knees were pushed apart and though the droid wasn’t humanoid, it felt like it was staring at him and he cringed, mind going back to other instances. Exposure, humiliation, ignored words, harsh hands and pain started to pool around his feet, water rising from the ground up, and Obi-wan realized he would never escape this. Those experiences were in him now, not something that could expunged or cleaned off. Testing for disease was a false treatment, a box to check, false platitudes and hollow comforts, sand foundations for him to fall into and into and-
“Have you heard of the umbrella cockatoo?”
Obi-wan’s train of thought halted. “What?”
Liax’s voice was nonchalant, and Obi-wan heard a page flip back and forth, almost idly. “The umbrella cockatoo. It’s a bird.”
“I, umm well, no?”
The droid whirred and buzzed around him, but Obi-wan wasn’t paying it much attention.
“It’s so fancy.” A lilt of amusement lit his voice. “They have this crown of feathers just fluffed right up on the top of their heads.”
A jolt of fear as a second swab scraped him, that same repulsion rising up in him. Then a light was shone on flesh that Obi-wan knew was still torn and damaged. He’d idly wondered if sutures or outside treatment would be necessary soon, and had considered eating less to cause less irritation to the area. Again, like physical treatment mattered. It didn’t really. In a way it was better to have physical damage so that Obi-wan knew he was reacting to something real and tabgible; there was an actual problem with his body and he could point to it. Once it healed, what would he point to?
“Okay, I’m going to show you, I’m just gonna stick the book around the curtain.” Obi-wan’s head jolted up; Liax’s voice still held some mirth, and two blue hands stuck out from behind the curtain, pages open to a rather pompous looking white cockatoo. Obi-wan stared at it but didn’t say anything.
“...did you see it?"
Obi-wan cleared his throat. "Yes."
He could practically hear Liax roll his eyes, and he pulled the book back. "I show you the new king of the jungle and all you say is 'yes'."
The droid hummed. “Test is complete, you may get dressed now, Master Kenobi.” Obi-wan stayed frozen on the table, waiting for the droid to leave. It whirred for a moment, then twisted away, raising an arm to move the curtain blocking the door.
Obi-wan cleared his throat. “And how long until we receive results?”
“One to three days.” It wheeled out of the room in a bustle, and left a vacuum of quiet behind it.
The sounds of Obi-wan getting off the table were obscenely loud. The crinkling of paper, his feet hitting the floor. Heat rose in his cheeks. This whole process- he shook his head to shake the thought out.
“Would you like me to give you a moment?” Liax spoke quietly, but it was startlingly loud.
Obi-wan shook his head, then realized Liax couldn’t see him. He cleared his throat. “No. It’s fine.” He fumbled through his robes, finding his underthings and clumsily stumbling into them. His fingers were clumsy as he laced his boots, and he gave up on putting on his outer robes, putting on his long sleeve undershirt and loose pants, draping everything else over his arm. He just wanted to leave.
He scrubbed at his beard then ran his hands roughly through his hair, pushed the curtain aside.
Legs crossed, arms on the arm rests, book on his lap, Liax looked up and smiled at Obi-wan. Obi-wan searched his expression for disgust, or impatience, or worse, pity. He didn’t find them, and felt himself relax minutely.
He stood up. “Good to go?”
Obi-wan was weak with relief, but nodded. He stepped past Liax and reached for the door knob. "Let's go.”
Chapter 9
Summary:
Obi-wan reflects after his appointment with Liax. Recovery is never instant. Sometimes it doesn't even feel possible.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Liax strolled ahead of him while Obi-wan wrung his hands distractedly. Liax seemed at ease, and hadn't seemed to judge him for his weakness. A part of Obi-wan couldn't believe he'd asked Liax to stay, but a larger part of him recoiled at the idea of doing that exam alone. He felt a little weak now, adrenaline leaving his extremities trembling and flimsy, so he didn't notice that they were returning to the pre-exam room and not to the front doors. Liax opened the door and stepped inside, turning to face him, then gestured to the comfy chair he’d sat in earlier.
“Take a seat please.” His smile was warm, and Obi-wan searched once more for pity, but it wasn’t there. He cleared his throat.
“Stopping for that extra coffee?” He shuffled his feet nervously. He didn't want to talk right now. Everything felt close to the surface, and he’d never known how to send it below water again. It was like his nerves were on the outside instead of the inside, sparking to external sensations that he couldn't predict instead of buried within where they belonged.
“Yes, a quick coffee. I won't keep you long. I just want to take a breath and relax. Is that alright with you?”
Obi-wan had been about to make some kind of excuse, but Liax asking his permission made him feel a little better. It reminded him he had some control here. He nodded tightly and sat down.
Liax stood again, carefully closed the door and turned, striding to the back of the room where a pot of fresh coffee sat, with two pale green mugs sat beside it that Obi-wan hadn’t noticed. He realized that Liax had sat first partly to get Obi-wan to join. He scowled as his back was turned, pouring them both a cup, feeling disgruntled that it had worked. Well, he was sat now, so he decided he would stay. It was more effort to leave at this point anyways.
“I know you take yours black, but I've always had a horrendous sweet tooth.” Liax flashed Obi-wan a grin, then turned back to his cup where Obi-wan incredulously watched him scoop five careful, rather generous, teaspoons of sugar into his mug.
Obi-wan floundered for a moment, then found his words. “Well don't let me stop you. Shall I go find a cow so we can fulfill your cream quota for the morning?”
Liax chuckled as he walked to Obi-wan and carefully placed his coffee on the side table. Obi-wan was kind of relieved. He didn't want to touch anyone right now, and this way he wouldn't have to avoid Liax's hands when he passed him the coffee. He narrowed his eyes for a moment. Liax couldn't have known that, could he? But Liax was already back in his seat and settled crossing his left leg over his right, stirring his coffee with little clinking sounds all the while. “I'm lactose intolerant, otherwise I assure you, I would be putting cream in my coffee.”
There didn't seem to be a good reply for that. “I'm… sorry?”
Liax sighed the sigh of the long suffering. “Thank you. I appreciate that. It truly is a tribulation not many understand.” The corner of his mouth lifted, and it took Obi-wan a moment to realize he was teasing him. Obi-wan scoffed, and his lips curled up reluctantly.
Liax smiled and took a sip of his coffee, then set his cup aside, settling back into his chair. Obi-wan's tension started to return, and he pulled his coffee onto his lap, dropping his gaze to it. It was hot and he had to lift his finger tips off the ceramic at different times so they didn’t burn. The heat seeped through his thin linen pants. It was nice.
There was a pause.
“Take a sip, it's good.”
Obi-wan glanced up. “I am sure. I don’t mean to be rude, but the hard part is done. Can this be rather quick?”
Liax took a sip of his coffee. “It's quite good. It would be a shame to waste. I promise, Obi-wan. Just a quick talk. These sessions are to give you peace.”
Peace. Obi-wan did as he was told and took a sip. It was good. Better than his own.
“The beans are grown,roasted and brewed in the same coffee shop. It's a family owned business. You can really tell they care.” Liax took another sip, and Obi-wan put his nose in the steam. It was lovely, but he was restless.
He nodded but said nothing. Liax watched him for a moment.
“I can see you don't want to talk, but I want to bring you relaxation before you leave. This was a hard morning, and running away from it won't make that go away, it will only make you alone.”
Obi-wan scrunched his brow. The voice inside him was instantly recriminating. A hard day? You had a cup of coffee and a doctor's appointment. A hard day? Pathetic. Master Obi-wan Kenobi had a hard day everyone boo fucking hoo.
“It's not really.” He didn't mean to say it, he just wanted Liax to know it wasn't a hard day, relatively. He'd done much harder things.
“What’s not really?”
Obi-wan felt a flicker of annoyance. He didn't want to explain. “It's not really a hard morning.”
Another pause. “Can you elaborate on that?”
He could, he supposed. It wouldn’t kill him to go on. He took another sip of his coffee. “I've had harder mornings. I've done much worse things. This is not on the scale of hard things.” His lip started to tremble for some reason.
“So today was easy for you?”
“Easier than many things. This isn't something that I need to discuss.” He forced bravado into his voice, but it fell short.
The silence was heavy until Liax spoke quietly.
“It wasn’t easy. You asked me to stay for your exam because this isn’t easy.” Liax said it very gently, very carefully, and Obi-wan felt like a child being forced to admit an obvious truth.
He was surprised that Liax was saying it outloud. He’d hoped it would stay an unacknowledged fact. Though perhaps he shouldn't have. Wasn't that a therapist's job?
He didn't say anything. Any denial he could think of sounded even more unsophisticated.
“I know today was hard for you. Asking for help is a good thing. I want to help you. I want you to feel comfortable enough to ask me to help you, especially in situations when you don't feel safe. Feeling safe enough to ask me for help is an incredibly good step, Obi-wan.”
Obi-wan swallowed. He opened his mouth, jaw working to find the words he wanted to say. It took alot for him to respond without defensiveness, but he tried.
“It shouldn't be hard. I've already….” He tried again. “It's over, this isn't anything close to what I've lived through. Life should be getting easier now.”
He met Liax’s eyes. His expression was neutral, but open and honest. He didn't say anything so Obi-wan repeated himself, his gaze flickering over his face, to Liax’s hands, then back to his eyes.
“I'm embarrassed that this is so hard. It's,” he licked his lips, “incredibly difficult for me to say that.”
He dropped his gaze and rubbed his beard then reached for his coffee again.
“Thank you for telling me.” He could hear the sincerity in Liax’s voice, and it should have felt condescending, but it just… didn't.
He didn't look up, but he nodded.
“I know you've been through incredibly difficult things. But no matter how extreme your other struggles have been, you are suffering now, and that's okay. Suffering does not mean you are weak, it means you are reacting to your circumstances. You are strong. The fact that you are in this room, trying to heal, is a testament to that.”
Obi-wan wasn't looking but saw him shift so he was leaning forward just slightly. He fought to keep his mind blank and absorb the words rather than fight them.
“Trauma does not make us more resilient to regular life. It only teaches us survival responses that hinder connection and growth. You have been hypervigilant, self isolating, passive, and dissociative in your time back. You have struggled with nightmares, and escapism through self harm and suicidal thoughts.”
Obi-wan shuddered to have it laid out so clearly.
“These things allowed you to reduce your suffering and survive in your previous environment. Our goal is to teach your mind and body that you don't need to do that anymore. This is difficult, since we are hardwired to remember and respond to pain and negative experiences. But you can, because you know, and I know, that you are strong.”
Obi-wan looked up. “And I have done much harder things.” He said it almost jokingly.
“And you have done much harder things.” Liax repeated lightly. “Like clean up after Anakin.”
That startled a laugh out of Obi-wan. He was also pleased that Liax remembered enough of their small talk to mention Anakin’s notorious slobbiness.
Liax grinned and pulled his coffee into his lap too, cradling it like Obi-wan was. He was quiet for a moment, but Obi-wan didn't rush to fill the silence.
“How are you feeling?”
Obi-wan shrugged. “Vulnerable. Anxious.” He was surprised at his own honesty, and he could tell Liax was too.
“I want to do a quick grounding exercise. This, hopefully, will remind you that even when your mind is spinning, your body is alive and safe now, and that you are safe too. This way, we can build a mind-body connection that can stabilize the mind when your thoughts are spinning. How does that sound?”
Obi-wan watched him skeptically. “This sounds like meditation. I'm already quite well versed.”
“Have you been meditating lately?”
Obi-wan’s mouth snapped shut. He hadn't. He couldn't bear the idea of reaching for the force and it not reaching back, or trying and failing to find peace in it, or reaching for it and finding out that his own energy was tainted and dirty. Meditating without the force was just a reminder of all that. He shook his head. Liax didn't pry.
“That's OK, I just wanted to know if it had been helpful if you had. This is kind of like meditation, only a little less serious, but the end goal is still peace.”
Obi-wan narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Alright.”
“Brilliant! So.” Liax clapped his hands together. “Wiggle your toes.” Obi-wan stared at him. “Go on! Wiggle your toes.”
He did so, not bothering to keep the derision from his face.
“I'm going to assume they're wiggling away in those shoes since I can't see. Now roll your ankles.” Liax did so, and Obi-wan realized he'd been wiggling his toes too. He rolled his eyes then followed suit.
“Perfect, now bend your knees and kick out. Alternate with both feet.”
Obi-wan did so, feeling like a school girl dreamily kicking her feet in the air. “And what exactly is this supposed to accomplish?”
“Just a moment.” Liax was doing the same, looking just as silly as Obi-wan did. “Now, rotate your hips, flex the entirety of your legs, over and over…” they both did so.
“We look like our legs are worms,” Obi wan said flatly.
Liax smiled indulgently. “We’re supposed to. Carry on.” They carried on, Liax enthusiastically, Obi-wan wearing his trademark ‘I ’ve been captured by my enemies but they won’t get a lick of infromation out of me ’ face, “and now…. relax.”
Liax took a deep breath, held it, then stilled his legs. Obi-wan dutifully copied him.
“So!” Liax clapped his hands together again. “How do you feel now?”
Obi-wan squinted at him. “Stupid. Ridiculous.”
“How does your body feel?”
He raised his eyebrows and made an exasperated face, answering without thinking. “Floppy. Foolish.”
“Perfect. That’s exactly what we wanted. I want you to continue doing those things with your entire body. Continue the exercise with your fingers, your arms, your face, neck, back. Any time you are feeling outside of yourself, or your emotions are getting the better of you, move your body in strange, ridiculous ways. This helps pull you into your body so you live in your body rather than in your mind and in your memories.”
“I don’t think that will work when I’m truly spiraling.” Obi-wan felt almost embarrassed for Liax to give him a coping mechanism so insubstantial.
“I don’t expect it to abolish those emotions, only to make them small enough so you are able to reach out for help, or practice other coping mechanisms.”
Obi-wan schooled his face into neutrality and nodded.
Liax laughed. “I know you don’t believe it will help. And trust me, I know how dumb some of the mechanisms sound. But the truth is, we can only re-teach ourselves how to think by trying something new, and everyone always feels dumb when they try something they aren’t good at. All we are trying to do is change the way you think. We want to help you realize that your body is safe, even when your mind thinks it isn’t.”
Obi-wan nodded slowly and more truthfully this time. The logic made sense, he supposed. He couldn’t imagine using it in real life though.
He sipped his coffee again, and glanced at it in surprise. He’d drunk it all.
“Now,” Liax stood up and took his cup, “I just want you to think about it. You don’t ever have to use it, but it can be a tool if you want it. I can tell you are antsy to leave, so you may, but do not hesitate to reach out if you need anything at all, alright?”
Obi-wan hastily placed his cup on the side table, and got to his feet, glad to be leaving.
Liax stepped in front of the door though. “Alright, Obi-wan? How does that sound?”
Obi-wan sighed and lifted his gaze to meet his eyes. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement now. He couldn’t leave without making eye contact and verbal confirmation of general stability. They were of a height, though Liax’s hair made him seem slightly taller. His eyes were bright blue, his face open and clear as always, blue skin slightly muted in the orange glow of the room. Obi wan softened a bit, and answered genuinely. “Yes, that sounds good. I will reach out if I need you.”
Liax smiled. “Glad to hear it. Now please, today, try to spend time with someone. Anyone. Alright?”
Obi-wan sighed. “Fine. Yes, I will.”
Liax beamed and opened the door for him. “Thank you for your honesty today, I really appreciate it. I will see you tomorrow.”
Obi-wan answered distractedly, eager to get home. “Yes, yes. Tomorrow.” He felt much better than he had before their conversation, but now he was ready to tuck himself away in the dark, away from eyes that could see his discomfort. He didn’t want the people in the halls on the way to his chambers to see his distress, muted though it was. And he certainly didn’t want to run into anyone he knew. He stepped through the doorway and strode through the hall. He didn’t see Liax watching him go, concern written clearly on his face.
………………………
Obi-wan stared at the ceiling. His retreat to his room had been too hasty. While early appointments were a good thing because he didn’t have to spend all day dreading them, he wanted something better to fill his afternoons. He felt good about today’s appointment. There was some lingering shame, but that was a comfortable enough emotion. At least he was used to it. He felt weird about his own candidness. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been as honest? He remembered down in… well in that place, he’d never been honest. Except at the beginning, when he’d screamed and begged. But that had been before he’d realized the futility of begging.
He blinked upwards. His eyelids felt too heavy. For some reason he thought that since today’s appointment and exam had gone far better than he’d thought, that maybe he'd be cured. Or obviously better in some large way. It was an outlandish notion he hadn’t even realized he’d been harbouring until he got back to his chambers and felt his hesitant optimism drain into depression. He tried grounding and wiggling his toes, but then he was just thinking about his body. He didn’t feel like a part of his body anymore. He didn’t inhabit it, and he didn’t want to. One of his coping mechanisms had been believing that he wasn’t connected to his body at all. To claim that his body was him was perhaps the worst thing he could think of, especially down there. If he was his body, then that meant that people could do things to him. Holding himself aloof from what happened meant they could touch his body but not his mind.
Something seemed off about that rationale. That hadn’t been exactly what Liax had been getting at, but now he couldn’t remember the difference.
Plus, they’d gotten to his mind too, hadn’t they? Here he was, curled in the dark, congratulating himself on his distance from his damaged vessel, pretending his mind too was unscathed. That was obviously not the case.
His thoughts only got more self deprecating from there.
Time dragged peculiarly. Obi-wan felt he was on a bit of a roller coaster. Nine days, ten maybe, since he’d returned? It felt like both no time and an eternity since he’d been in that cell. He still woke up confused in the mornings. He was always surprised to see the ceiling of his chambers rather than stone.
He’d been busy this last week. Well, not busy compared to his previous life as the Jedi he’d been before this mission, but busier than he’d imagined he would be upon returning. Well, when he’d allowed himself to imagine it.
He had several visitors which forced him to leave his chamber. Additionally, he’d had near daily appointments with the healers, not including the subsequent mental breakdowns, he reflected sardonically. He still had to occupy himself with the daily tasks of being alive. Eating, cleaning, sleeping. Though he performed none of them well, his appointments required him to do them far better than he’d have done if he was left to his own devices.
It was all rather exhausting.
Nobody forced him to do anything but that didn’t free him of the obligations he felt to see his loved ones. Quin Lan, Ahsoka, Windu, and Cody had all stopped by several times in the last week, some more well intentioned than others. He was still receiving work related emails from several Jedi who were unaware of his current situation. Windu and several other council members still sent him busy work of a non sensitive nature that needed to be done by a council member due to the information’s sensitivity. He hadn’t responded to any of them yet. And finally, Anakin, the whirlwind that he was, visited him daily.
After weeks of languishing in a dungeon, plotting escape, surviving pain, this first week back had rung strongly of survival, still. After the initial adrenaline of being freed, Obi-wan had been focused on surviving his return. His elation turned to cold revenge as he’d fought his way out of that place, then to fear as he’d boarded the ship and was once more gathered into the order.
Dread had choked him at the thought of talking to a healer, doing the required treatments, reuniting with his loved ones. In his cell’s imaginings, he’d thought he would be stoic about what he’d witnessed. He would suffocate in silence, take it to the grave, and suffocate there too. He’d imagined he would die in a distant battle where he couldn’t be recovered so that his body would start to disintegrate and rot without interruption. Only when the muscles of his jaw started to loosen and his mouth started to gape open, would the putrefaction crawl out of him and become lost in the earth.
That wasn’t how it had gone. It shamed him to think how far he was from the man he’d imagined himself to be mere weeks ago. Months ago.
Regardless, time had passed and the hump had been crossed. Everything he’d feared had come to pass and still his heart beat on.
At this moment there were no immediate battles left to face, and so his focus could extend to the dreadful, endless, empty stretch of time in front of him.
There was nothing he wanted to do. Not a single thing he could think of. So, he sat still.
It seemed there was nothing to do but remember.
Obi-wan tried to weigh his options. What would a healthy person do? He could go do some training. He was certainly out of practice. He could go eat. He immediately dismissed the thought. He’d been too nauseous to feel true hunger lately. He could go seek out a friend, or perhaps one would seek him out here in his chambers.
He looked around the room. He could clean. He could open the drapes. He could take a nap. He blinked heavy eyes though it was still morning. The exam had been shorter than he’d thought, but perhaps his body needed more healing than he’d expected.
He rubbed his eyes and considered the notion. The pain of his lacerations were dulling and he wasn’t in constant pain from movement anymore. The bacta had closed all the wounds of his face, and elsewhere, and his eye was completely healed. Anyone who looked at him could still recognize the results of torment in his shadowed eyes, his gaunt figure, and hunched posture, but the marks on his face were faint enough that one would have to squint to see them.
What else could he do? His couch seemed to suck him down and keep him seated. He hadn’t gotten it in him to turn on the lights yet. His curtains were drawn, and the room was still.
He hoped nobody would come with the same desperation that he hoped someone would come deliver him from the paralysis of recovery.
Liax thought he could recover, but Obi-wan was less hopeful. It didn't take long for habit to become learned. Fear and pain weren’t the best teachers, but they were certainly the most memorable of them, as Liax had already said.
Obi-wan sighed, and rubbed his hands over his face. The rest of the day stretched endlessly in front of him, a dark hole for him to fall into, and he felt a foul mood start to settle over him, as unstoppable as the tide. He scowled.
Today isn’t different from any other, he tried to reason. Release this to the force. But he didn’t want to touch the force. He tried the grounding exercise again, but his internal monologue failed him, words swallowed by sudden anger. Release what to the force? Trauma? Fear? Like that had ever worked before!
There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity, he said to himself. He felt his expression grow darker. Platitudes couldn’t help him. They were useless, feeble things created by useless, weak minds that hadn’t ever had to fight to survive. He balked at the thought for a moment, then hardened his expression once more.
It’s easy to choose peace when you’re not in the middle of a fucking war . It was vindictive. He knew he wasn’t supposed to feel hate, but the anger made it happen, and it became a thick and implacable shroud over his shoulders. He grit his teeth against it before getting to his feet. He still couldn’t hide his force signature since he still didn’t want to touch the force, and his visitors were stubborn. He wouldn’t be able to turn them away.
He knew that losing his temper was inevitable. If someone did come by, Obi-wan didn’t think he would be able to maintain a calm outward facade. They didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of his anger. Anakin especially didn’t deserve it, but Obi-wan didn’t feel in control of himself at the moment. If someone asked him how he was doing, he felt he would scream. He needed to get out of here and make sure no one would find him. A few clever lies could absolve him of the entire situation and ensure nobody would consider looking for him at all. He just needed to word things correctly.
………………………..
Anakin sighed and opened his eyes. It had been a long training session followed by an even longer meditation practice. That wasn’t quite true. The session had been an hour and a half. The meditation session was, he checked his watch, 12 minutes. He winced. Well, it felt longer. He’d been short of his goal of 15 minutes, too. He shrugged it off and started walking to the lockers. Better to try again another day then let meditation become overwhelmed by frustration.
That wasn’t an official saying. Anakin had made it up, so it was official enough for him. Obi-wan said if it was helpful, then it was useful. Plus he was council adjacent due to his master’s status. His former master’s status. His former master’s former status.
So he was the chosen one, council adjacent adjacent, AND a very successful general. Some said the best in the GAR. Most said, honestly.
Therefore, he reasoned, meditation was the very least of his worries. He nodded briskly to himself, assured of his own importance.
Anakin,
I just wanted you to know that I won’t be in my chambers tonight if you come to visit. I know you worry, though unnecessarily. I will be with Master Plo Kloon tonight reviewing some Level A confidential information. Don’t worry about overwork-frankly, I am glad to be able to contribute something. You are welcome to join if you would like; you have the clearance for it. We are reviewing budget options for the next advertising proposition for the support of additional allocation of resources for support troops for political personnel, as well as more thorough screening for those troops.
You are not expected, and I know your schedule is busy. No need to make up an excuse, Anakin. I am well.
Regards,
Master Obi-wan Kenobi
Anakin winced. He’d been intending to stop in at Obi-wan’s tonight, but he had no intention to help with painful, intricate paperwork. He used to believe that he was good at paying attention to details; he noticed when Ahsoka’s footwork was inches off perfection, he noticed the sweat on a nervous interviewee’s brow, he noticed white knuckles on the table cloth of an undercover separatist senator. However, when the details were budget numbers, tracking of forms and names, or generally boring as everliving fuck, Anakin found that details eluded him.
His message back didn’t take much thought.
Master, you don’t have to message so formally. I’m the only one who sees this, how many times do I need to remind you?
I was gonna come see you, but training is running late today. And also I don’t want to help with that. Even if I came to say hi (which I would) you know Plo Kloon! He’ll guilt trip me in and I’ll have to help! I could come drag you out if you wanted me to? Pretend some emergency?
Anakin re-read the message and pressed send, then sighed and started walking to the cafeteria. Training had been long, and he was hungry.
Maybe he could bring Obi-wan a coffee or something? Plo Kloon had always been a stickler for the rules, almost worse than Obi-wan, and if there was work to be done then he would assign it somewhere. Anakin didn’t want to be within the vicinity of that “somewhere.”
He was worried about Obi-wan though. Obi wan had consented to giving Anakin Liax’s comm code, so Anakin could always message him if he was worried. But he was always worried. He’d probably only message under extenuating circumstances. He unlocked his locker and pulled out a fresh change of clothes, wincing as his damp clothing splat on the floor when he pulled it off.
Part of Anakin, a cruel part of him, was frustrated that Obi-wan had to be traumatized in this way right now. The war was ramping up, life was difficult, and it seemed sometimes that all of them were stacking injury upon injury upon injury, both mental and physical. The light he’d been promised when he’d joined as a child was being smothered, and even before that he’d been tired. He’d always been tired. He tilted his head back in the showers and let the warm water cascade over his shoulders. The pressure was weak, but the heat relaxed the tension in his neck and washed the salt from his forehead.
It also scared him to see Obi-wan like this. He was usually so stoic, and closed off. Anakin had never seen him so exposed, wearing his emotions on his sleeve. Even his demeanor was different, avoiding eye contact, hunching into himself, flinching at unexpected contact.
Anakin wanted his Master back. Anakin knew he didn’t love like other people did. He loved them much harder, and expected far more of them. He thought sometimes that he was doomed to hate everyone he loved. Well, not hate. Resent. He resented Padme sometimes for being so perfect, so stable and unbothered when he sometimes felt like the world rocked beneath his feet. But how could he resent her when he needed her so badly? If she too felt as he did, how could he lean on her for support? And she needed his turmoil. Sometimes he thought that maybe she’d fallen in love with him because he’d been hurting at the time. What other explanation was there or someone who was normally so crafty to fall for someone so blundering?
He loved her more than the world itself, but that didn’t stop resentment from simmering alongside it. It was his problem, not hers. Something gone wrong in his programming. He smiled wryly and shut off the water and stepped out, reaching for the towel he’d placed on the hook and scrubbing at his hair to dry it.
He resented Obi-wan too sometimes. He resented him for not loving Anakin like Anakin wanted him to. Anakin had very rarely seen what he meant to Obi-wan, and he hoarded those precious moments in his mind. If Obi-wan did not withhold his affection the way he did, then Anakin wouldn’t need to hoard them; he wouldn’t resent Obi-wan for his restraint. Of course, he loved Obi-wan too. Those two things were intertwined for him. Love was the stronger one here too.
He pulled on his trousers and tunic, then padded to his locker to hang up his wet things and grab his training bag.
Sometimes he even resented Ahsoka. She’d grown up so care free, so confident, so loved and cherished within the order. He should be happy for her, right? But when he’d first met her, while he’d admired her ability and her charisma, he’d resented how much easier her path had been than his.
He even resented his mother for being strong enough to let him leave her. He’d wanted to go, and he’d known it was for the best, but she hadn’t even tried to find a way to reach him. Then, he resented her for dying. It wasn’t fair and he knew it. If she’d made him stay, he’d have resented her for that too.
Anakin wanted to learn how to love without hurt, but no one had ever taught him how to separate the two. He stuffed his training shoes into his bag, tied his tunic closed, and slung his bag over his shoulder
He stood up and shook himself. He would be there for Obi-wan. And he knew that Obi-wan needed him. It was a lovely thing to be needed.
He felt guilty for the dark turn his thoughts had taken and the depth of his own selfishness, but he had long ago accepted those kinds of thoughts as part of himself. He didn’t know how to separate them out. He didn’t even know if he wanted to.
At least he still felt guilty for it. He sighed. The war was getting to him. He needed to rest. And check on Obi-wan because he loved him. He loved him so much it hurt him.
But first, lunch.
Notes:
This isn't going to be an Anakin centric fic at all, but I want him to react somewhat in character, so I wanted to add some more characterization for him near the end, showing how he really is. Anakin is a super interesting character to write, and though he will have mostly positive impact on this story, I wanted to get into his head a little bit too, just so y'all kinda get the ending haha.
Sorry for the wait also. Thank you to anyone who reads! Stay safe y'all, hope you all are well <3
Chapter 10
Notes:
I've updated the tags because this chapter goes into a bit of graphic depictions of violence. I'm updating the notes on the fic because there will be graphic depictions of rape as well. Keep yourselves safe, love to you all :)
Chapter Text
The undercity bustled around him. Old smells and sounds and sights that were familiar to him as the back of his hand felt a little bit obnoxious. Colours and noise exploded in his head. These were his old stomping ground as a padawan, and he’d been here many times with friends to eat, to talk, or just to get away from the temple and the war. He’d longed for a bite from Dex’s in his cell, and in his better moments had fantasized about walking freely through the streets once more, looking authoritative in his robes, strong and dependable. Of course he wasn’t wearing his robes today. He’d donned a nondescript jumpsuit, and he supposed he looked like a duct rat. He didn’t think anyone would notice him in the guise.
He took a deep breath, and sighed it out again. The faint slip of optimism he’d been feeling when he'd left the temple escaped his grasp. All this familiarity and he felt nothing. Not the relief he’d hoped for, and not the fear he’d dreaded. Just, nothing.
A shoulder bumped into his own as he stood stationary on the bustling walkway, and he turned to look at the Rodian who’d jostled him. He tilted his head as he breezed by.
“Bottom feeder scum,” he muttered. He walked away and Obi-wan stood watching him for a moment longer, then continued forward.
Why wasn’t this excursion giving him what he wanted? He had some space from the order; not a single person knew where he was right now. He should feel good. Or bad.
He waited for some kind of reaction, some emotional response. Wasn’t he scared of being in a crowd again? All these strangers could be dangerous. He couldn’t defend himself, not unless he was okay with touching the force again. He dodged a child running towards his legs, his disgruntled mother following behind him with a focused look on her face. He smiled at her. She didn’t see him.
Maybe he could try it again? He took a deep breath to steady himself, and the smell of frying fish hit his nose. A screech cut through the air as a construction crew sawed through a metal beam.
Not here. He let his shoulders slump and looked for a bench. There was a park a ways ahead that he knew of. Calling it a park wasn’t quite accurate, more of a memorial to the land underneath the city. The only visible mountain top on Coruscant, and the highest in its range, Umate peak, stuck out of the plaza there. There would be places to sit.
So he strode on. Perhaps the numbness would leave him there. Anything felt preferable, even that anger he was slowing losing control of, though it felt stagnant now. Drowned in apathy, too tired to wake. It was another disappointment to find that not only the temple felt alien to him, but the city as well. No solace. Not anywhere.
................................
The bench was useless and the rock offered him nothing new. Why had he come? What had he expected to find? He felt like fool, though he felt like that more often than not these days. He’d come to accept it. His body felt heavy, and he didn’t feel like leaving the bench, so he didn’t. Everytime he thought to stand up, he wondered “where am I going to go,” so he shifted in his seat, and stayed. There was nowhere.
The sun slowly dipped in the sky, and Obi-wan watched it sinn behind the buildings, the cloud dotted heavens turning pink and orange and purple, the clouds themselves like little fireballs. It failed to ignite anything in him. He only thought of himself and Anakin, and the first sunset he’d seen when he’d gotten back, both of them sitting crying in that stupid box he’d hidden in, wishing he could pitch himself off the ledge, eyes too dull to catch the beauty set in front of him.
It was telling. Maybe beauty wasn’t something he was meant to admire anymore. Perhaps he'd lost the ability.
This wasn’t productive. Maybe he could try some of the tips that Liax gave him. Not meditation though. It was stupid, the way Liax wanted him to do it. He felt foolish now. He didn’t need grounding, he needed to not feel like a shame ridden idiot that he felt like right now.
Liax said the techniques wouldn’t cure him, but they would get him to the place where perhaps he could try to reach out for help.
So, what was another one? He needed to not feel stupid. That’s it. So positive self talk.
He glanced around furitively. The sun was fully down now, the sky still darkening from dusk, a strip of blue still bright on the horizon line, though the clouds were losing their colour. People had slowly started to drift away, and as night approached, the lights of the signs started to drown out the dwindling colours of the skies. No one was near enough to hear him.
He pushed a breath out his nose.
“Alright,” he muttered lowly. “You are….” he struggled for a moment, “not stupid.” He sat there on the bench, feeling dumb as a newborn.
So, something else. “You are,” he searched for the word he needed, tongue on the roof of his mouth, “capable.” Capable of what? Of talking to himself on a bench? He felt irritation start to simmer in his stomach.
“Of, I am capable of,” he trailed off, scratching his shoulder. A cool breeze hit his face, and he looked around again for someone within earshot even though someone sitting on the other end of the bench wouldn’t have heard him. “Capable of…. I am a capable Jedi master.” Not true. Not anymore. “I was a capable jedi master.” So what? What good were past accomplishments in the face of current devastating failures? “I am….” He ran a hand over his face, combed his fingers through his beard. “I am capable of…of.”
He swallowed harshly. It was like the possibilities he’d had, the goals he’d aimed for, now had dead ends. The man he’d been, the potential and the ability he’d had, felt burned out of him. He was too tired, too cowardly, too inhuman to pursue those things any longer. He was too volatile, too resigned, too goddamn nothing to do a single thing about anything. Was he being dramatic? It didn't feel like it. He’d been treated like he was less than human for too long by too many people. Was it any surprise he'd begun to believe it? His goals needed agency, and it had been ripped from him.
The irritation fizzled out. He couldn’t hold onto it.
Obi wan was too tired to imagine what Liax would say. The hope of the morning was swallowed with the last light of dusk, and the night crowds started coming out. Laughter came from a group of young people, and restaurants bustled. Obi-wan sat separate from it all, feeling somehow more alone than he had in his cell. His return had been his daydream, the only thing getting him through every breath of his agony, and now even that distant hope had abandoned him. He'd been stronger in his imagination.
Energy drained from him, he slumped back and let his mind take him where it would.
……………………..
Enarc, Charlie Batallion.
Cellblock 6742:P6, unit 24.
76 days ago.
He’d been shockingly slow on the uptake, upon relfection. The signs had been evident, but he hadn’t been looking for them. His cell had seemed like every prison cell he’d been in before, just a bit cleaner. He saw chains and iron bars, and missed the shower panel installed above his head.
He registered his own discomfort, the pain in his skull, the stretch of shoulders, and missed the smooth quality of the black linens he wore, the cleanliness of his body down to the manicuring of his fingernails and the grooming of his beard.
He assumed the lack of screams was from isolation, not well done sound proofing. He couldn’t reach the bars of the cell, so he didn’t notice the force field until it wavered, the red strip of light along the bars dimming for a moment as the force field deactivated. A man stepped in and was still as the lights shifted slowly from dim red to a piercing white-blue, intensity increasing so Obi-wan could see the details of his cell and the man in front of him in full colour.
He didn’t say anything, his hands tucked professionally behind his back, face blank, eyes calculating. He wasn’t dressed overally formal; a black collared shirt and loose billowy pants, tucked into a pair of black leather boots, but his straight backed demeanor and close cropped hair leant him an aura of authority, even as his slender frame suggested a man more inclined to book keeping than war mongering. He wasn’t old, but he was older than Obi-wan, evident by the crinkles around his mouth, the creases on his forehead. No laugh lines. This was a serious man.
Obi-wan shifted as much as he could, arms still chained behind him, to get his knees under him and straighten his spine. The clanging sound was sharp, and cut through the room, but he didn't hesitate. Though he was far from being able to rise to his feet, Obi-wan wanted to face his captor with a straight back, head raised high.
Their eyes locked. Obi-wan waited for the man to speak.
Instead, the man’s eyes slowly drifted down Obi-wan’s body, and though he was covered, Obi-wan got a strange prickling feeling. He made his face freeze.
The man tilted his head and nodded once to himself. He took out a device and held it to his eye, peering out of it.
“Stay still please.”
Click.
A camera. Obi-wan’s brow wrinkled in confusion. A camera? This was new. He’d never been held for ransom before.
The man lowered the camera and looked, presumably, at the thumbnail. He tutted. “Stand up please. And remove the tunic.”
Obi-wan deadpanned. “I can’t stand.” He tried to pull his arms for emphasis, but to his surprise, they extended in front of him and he nearly fell on his face, not expecting the extra length of chain. There must’ve been more locked inside the wall. He took the opportunity and lurched to his feet, lunging at the man chest first. He ran out of length near instantly, and his arms got tugged behind him, yanking on his shoulder joints as his momentum carried him forwards until he ran out of chain, body coming to a sudden stop, chest heaving. He’d only been given another couple feet. Enough to lunge forcefully towards the stranger, who stood placidly 5 feet away. The man hadn’t flinched. He just blinked at him as Obi-wan snarled.
The man didn’t say anything, just waited as Obi-wan stood suspended there, body angling towards him. Then he nodded again.
“Thank you. Now the tunic.”
Obi-wan stared at him for a moment, then took a calming breath. This was irregular, but he’d been in peculiar situations before. He needed to get information. Whatever drug was inhibiting his force usage was a hindrance, certainly, but he’d lost his access to the force before.
He cleared his throat, stopped straining against the chains and stood straight again. “I rather like it, thank you.”
The man didn’t hesitate. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Metal wrapped around the man’s hand as he formed a fist, naked skin turning to shiny steel in less than an instant. He moved fast. Faster than anyone Obi-wan had seen before. He hadn’t seen the movement until that metal-sleek fist was slamming into his stomach. Obi-wan was folding towards the ground before he understood he was in pain. There was a wordless wheeze and he hit the ground hard, blinking spots out of his eyes as he worked to hold to consciousness, the chains clanging behind him.
There were measured footsteps and Obi-wan got a close up of shiny leather as the man crouched down near his face, hands bare once more, no hint of the agility Obi-wan had just witnessed.
He reached for his neck and Obi-wan tried to shift backwards, but the man didn’t try to choke him, just took hold of the collar of his shirt and tugged. He was strong. The shirt was durable and didn’t tear, and though he tried to resist, Obi-wan’s body moved like a sack of meat as the rough linen was dragged off of his torso. He didn’t uncurl from where he lay as the shirt came free of his body.
He tried to breath in, but only managed short breaths. The man leaned forwards, and though Obi-wan’s eyes were closed, he could feel his breath on his cheek. The man spoke at a normal tone, but he leaned close to speak into his ear as if he was whispering.
“I’ve just ruptured your spleen.”
He got to his feet, and strode to the far side of the cell again, Obi-wan’s shirt in his hand. Obi-wan tried to quell the nausea, but was dragged to his knees once more as the chains were coiled back into the wall again, returning him to his original state on the floor, arms stretched, back to the wall, kneeling on the floor, sans shirt.
Obi-wan wavered there, but didn’t move. He was confused. The man looked human, Obi-wan thought. How had he hit him like that? Perhaps another chemical infusion, something new in the same way this force inhibitor drug was new. These people were clever and organized, unfortunately. Obi-wan cracked his eyes open, working to make the movement imperceptible. Was there a bulge of metal anywhere on his form? Weapons hidden by the loose clothing he wore? Perhaps he’d see scarring on his arms, or on his head that indicated mechanical enhancements to the man’s form. He certainly wasn’t human any longer. What was this place and what did this man have to do with it? Everything thus far, down to the chains around his wrists, had been far advanced than he expected.
“Up now. Not sitting on your heels.”
Obi-wan opened his eyes all the way, and glared at the man, then searched for peace. It was difficult but it wouldn’t be of any benefit to do otherwise.
He tried not to make a sound as he moved, but he made a squeaking noise anyways as he put pressure on his torso. The pain was sharp and nearly intolerable, radiating through his body and up into his left arm. The room seemed to spin, and he gagged, eyes watering as he got his knees under him again, rising off his with his wrists crossed behind his back, all his weight on his knees.
He didn’t meet the man’s gaze. Craning his neck would not only put more pressure on his body, but was futile. He would get no information from this man with a hard stare.
Click. Several steps to one side. Click. Several steps to the other. It was cold. He had the uncomfortable thought that his nipples were pebbled. Click. Fingertips pressed against his chin and he realized he'd been drifting; he hadn't heard the man's approach at all. He tried to pull away belatedly, but was slapped hard across the face before being pulled back to center again, his whole body throbbing. The man tilted his chin up and Obi-wan snarled at the camera lens in his face.
Click.
He was released, and Obi-wan buckled forwards, his face already swelling. He bit his tongue. He tried to look up. The man was flicking through the photos, cool and unruffled as he’d been when he'd first entered the room.
“Yes. These will do.” He nodded, and noticed Obi-wan watching him. He dropped the tunic in front of him, just out of reach, then ran his gaze over Obi-wan’s torso again. His black eyes locked onto the bruise on Obi-wan’s stomach that was already blossoming, and Obi-wan thought for a moment to see something other than indifference enter his gaze. Measured fascination, perhaps. It was gone before Obi-wan could be sure. Disturbing.
He met Obi-wan’s eyes again then smiled with his mouth. “I will be seeing you shortly.”
He turned briskly on his heel and stepped smartly out of the cell. Obi-wan balked. He’d been in peculiar situations, but never without interrogation.
“What do you want from me?” Obi-wan’s voice seemed loud and flat in the relative silence. He winced as he said it. Not only was it a juvenile question, cliched and useless, but it also hurt to speak. He’d already dismissed the potential of getting information from this man, though he hadn’t expected to be so quickly rebuked for disobedience.
At least he’d kept his voice blase as he’d said it. Nearly nonchalant. The slight slur was due to the swelling on his face, not the pain. He thought maybe the man knew that already.
The man peered over his shoulder and didn’t say anything.
Obi-wan licked his lips. His mouth tasted like iron. “You must want something.”
“Certainly.” He turned back to the hall and walked away and Obi wan tried to watch him go, stepping through the door in the bars, his heels clicking briskly but a droid hummed into view from his right, blocking his line of sight and whirring into the room.
“You are in need of treatment.” The droid buzzed in a droning monotone.
Obi-wan collapsed sideways at the words, relieved to be getting some care, even though moving made the pain worse. The stone was cool under his face, and took away some of the pain from the swelling. He surely had some internal bleeding; it was clear his captors had some purpose for him, and he was glad it wasn’t just the spectacle of his death they were after.
“Please prepare for organ removal.”
His eyes opened. Confusion whirled around, and everything seemed very bright. The blue-white of the room hurt his head. Organ removal?
“Wh-what?” He was losing his grip on things now that the man had left. The adrenaline was leaving his body and weakness rushed in at it’s wake.
“Cailuk’s orders. Your spleen is ruptured. Removal is necessary for the severity.” There was a buzz and a whirring sound, then cold antiseptic wipes on his torso, held by sturdy metal claws. They pushed him onto his back and held him there. It didn’t take much to keep him still, and the droid maneuvered him until his whole body was flat, arms laying on the ground above his head towards the wall, still chained up, feet pointing towards his cell door. His skin pebbled with goosebumps and he wished for his shirt back.
So, he thought, Cailuk was the man’s name. Presumably. Perhaps someone else was giving orders. Obi-wan hadn’t heard that name before, and he hadn't read it in any of the intel he’d perused pre-mission. The Jedi hadn’t heard anything about a performance enhancing drug, nor any weapon capable of the speed and dexterity the man had demonstrated, at least not that he knew of. He replayed the man’s motions in his mind. It was concerning; it seemed whatever tech granted those abilities could rival that of the ability granted by the force.
The man himself was clever. Calculated. Restrained. If this droid had revealed his name, it was because he wanted Obi-wan to know. Why? To dash hope of rescue with an unimportant name? To confuse? Perhaps it was an alias he wanted to spread as cover, or for intimidation.
“Stay still.” Several instruments retracted from the body of the droid, clean and sharp.
“Wait, now? Now?” He could voice no further protest.
There was a prick in his neck and for a moment he thought it was the mercy of general anesthesia then felt his heart beat start to rise, the sweet beckoning of gentle unconsciousness fading away.
“To keep you awake,” the droid explained, though Obi-wan had known instantly. He grit his teeth. He’d seen this drug before. This was a punishment he had seen before. Obi-wan had suffered through torture. He reached for the calming strength of the force and balked for a moment as it evaded him.
Fine. He could do it without the force too, though he was far less practiced. He forced his mind blank, trying to focus on surviving the present moment, but something about this situation was different, and it felt peculiar to him. Out of the ordinary, or as ordinary as it gets for wartime capture. Usually his torment had a focus; there was something they neede from him, or information that he was trying to glean.
The droid slowly started to lower a blade to his now bruised and colourful torso.
Very rarely had he been tortured for solely for the misery of it. Anyone who held Obi-wan Kenobi prisoner was usually short for this world. It could be a tactic to get him to speak. He had a plethora of experience with torture, so perhaps this was a new approach and they would reveal their secrets soon.
That was one benefit of battling the Sith, he supposed. Any plan they had that made him suffer was usually impatient and spiteful. The Sith never seemed to be able to keep their plans to themselves, and were far too eager to get whatever it was they wanted from him to keep him in the dark. Confusion was very rarely a part of his POW experience.
As the knife cut into his skin and then deeper, Obi-wan started to scream. As he did, only one thought entered his head.
What are the photos for?
………………………………
Anakin looked at the take out coffees and sighed again as he knocked on the door to Master Plo Kloons chambers. He was so nice. Obi-wan needed support, so Anakin would support him, regardless of the potential consequence of joining in with paperwork. Anakin had been there before, and as Obi-wan hadn’t been in his own chambers for his meeting, nor any of the common spaces, Anakin thought he should check here before he braved the archives by himself. Jocasta Nu was to be avoided at all costs. He did not want his soul examined today.
The door slid open, and Plo Kloon nodded to him.
“General Skywalker. A pleasure to see you here.” He looked dubiously, Anakin thought, at the carrier in Anakin’s hands, the smell of coffee wafting up. Sometimes it was hard to read his expressions.
“It’s the good stuff! I promise! And I know it’s kind of late for coffee, but I know Obi-wan doesn’t mind drinking it late so I figured maybe you would too. I don’t know how long your… confidential information review will be.” He nearly rolled his eyes. It was such a fancy way of saying “mission planning logs,” or, as he liked to put it, “how much will the troops eat next week-logs.”
Plo Kloon squinted at him. “General Skywalker, I don’t know of any information review. I haven’t heard from Master Kenobi since he returned from his mission. I presume he is recovering well?”
Cold welled up in his chest. He stared at the coffees, the cold fear going hot in an instant. His voice was steady. “He said he was with you.”
Plo Kloon wore a politely concerned expression. “Not I. He has some time off, you know. Perhaps you can check at the archives? I thank you for the coffees, though I must ask you to leave, I have a holo call scheduled.”
Anakin stepped back out of the doorway, a little numbly.
“Pass on my greetings to him, please. I hope to see him back in the council meetings soon!” Plo Kloon’s eyes crinkled warmly, and he looked behind him as his tablet started to ring with the incoming call.
Anakin nodded and dredged up a friendly tone. “I will. Have a restful evening, Master.”
“You as well, General.”
The door slid shut and Anakin’s brow knit, anger rising alongside his fear. Obi-wan had lied to him and was missing. Again. He whirled around and stormed through the hallway, a pair of padawans stumbling out of his way. He hardly noticed. Meal time had just finished, and the halls were crowded, but people parted for him, and well that they did.
Where was Obi-wan?
He could feel the anger rising again in him, and he let it. He knew Obi-wan was hurting, but he couldn’t keep running away. He couldn’t keep doing this to everyone, to Anakin! He thought about what Liax had said.
Obi-wan wouldn’t kill himself though. He wouldn’t.
It was getting easier to believe that maybe Obi-wan could.
……………………………………
Obi-wan didn’t really notice where he was walking, just that it was quieter. He thumbed absently at the place where the scar should be. There hadn’t been one.
He’d suffered through more painful things for longer, but nobody had every taken anything from him before. Out of him. The droid had shown him his spleen. It had been shiny. Warm where it had lain on his torso.
It was violating having something taken out of his body, something that had been with him all his life.
Thorough bacta treatments had ensured no scarring.
His feet dragged and he looked up to find he’d been walking back to the temple. Headed home without knowing it. It looked pretty up there, lit from the inside like a thousand thousand lanterns. But it looked pretty like an ornament, cold and emotionless, the facade of comfort rather than the real thing.
He looked back down at his feet. Then he felt something. A shuddering, a slight twist in the air around him, like a disturbance in the force.
The force? Was he using the force again? Certainly not, absolutely not, he couldn’t be. The light side of the force didn’t want him, he was nervous to use it, scared he’d reach out and find the darkness instead. He needed to feel safe when he tried it.
But there! There it was again! A disturbance in the force and definitely not the light side. He whipped his head up. He hadn’t even noticed he’d closed his eyes.
The disturbance was coming from a locus, a dot in the distance, midway down the steps to the temple, dark and cloaked.
Obi-wan would recognize Anakin anywhere. He broke into a halting jog. He’d seen Anakin mad before, many times, and had always secretly dreaded his anger as much as he’d dreaded his passion. Anakin had always been a man of extremes.
Obi-wan was no stranger to the dangers of the darkside, nor it’s temptations. He’d closed that door long ago, and ensured with every day of suffering that his even practice kept it closed.
Now, Anakin burned bright in the dark side of the force. His fear and confusion mixed together, and he picked up into a jog. He was a good ways out of shouting distance yet, but he waved an arm, hoping to get Anakin’s attention.
Then his heart sunk to his stomach. Anakin wasn’t supposed to know he had left. Was he mad at Obi-wan? No, maybe not, he hoped. Maybe he was mad for some other reason. His arm froze in the air, but it was too late. He saw the figure halt on the stairs, obviously focusing on him, then jolt into motion again, skipping steps on the way down.
Obi-wan sighed. Some fights could not be avoided. If Anakin hadn’t known he had left before, he knew now. He briefly considered coming up with some kind of lie that still fit with him working with Plo Kloon, but gave it up as a lost cause, then shuffled like a prisoner to his execution.
Why did he feel Anakin’s anger though? Did he only feel the dark side of the force because he’d only been blocking out the good side? Subconsciously, perhaps the dark had slipped in without his notice.
That wasn’t good. That left many implications for the darkness that had seemingly been shrouding the temple so insidously in these last years of war.
He tried to rationalize it. Anakin had always struggled more with passion and anger. The idea that he affected and even used both the light and dark side of the force wasn’t even a new revelation, but rather something he had subconsciously known and ignored. Accepting it now wasn’t difficult, but worrying. And another problem he had to face.
He was so tired.
“Obi-wan!” His voice was booming, and Obi-wan flinched then looked around. The area was empty aside from the two of them, thank goodness.
As Anakin got closer, Obi-wan could see coldness in his expression. It was hard to reason with Anakin when he got like this. Obi-wan sighed and slowed his steps. Anakin was whirling towards him like a tornado, and Obi-wan was not particularly eager to get in his path. He reached for his beard and he rubbed at his face, feeling a defensiveness start to rise in him. He tried to battle it down as Anakin approached.
“Obi-wan!” He was feet away now, cloak swirling, and Obi-wan stopped walking as Anakin came to a stop in front of him.
He raised a placating hand and met his gaze. Anakin was angrier than he’d thought. Did his actions really warrant this reaction? “Now Anakin-”
“What’s the matter with you!?” Anakin leaned in, really getting in his face. Their eyes bored into each other.
“I brought Plo Kloon some coffee and do you know what he told me?” Anakin’s voice lowered dangerously. He took hold of Obi-wan’s shoulders. “He told me you’d never stopped by.”
He threw his hands in the air, releasing Obi-wan, voice raising again. “You lied! Again! You disappeared! Again! What’s the matter with you?!”
Anakin turned his back to him and took a deep breath. Obi-wan could see he was collecting himself.
“Anakin, I just wanted some fresh air. You weren’t supposed to find out I’d left.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Anakin spun around again, and this time Obi-wan saw hurt in his eyes alongside his fury.
“That’s what’s wrong with this picture?! I found out you left? How about, you left without telling anyone, you lied to mislead me, and you’re refusing help! Do you not remember not too long ago when you, oh I don’t know disappeared, and what was it you were on again? Oh that’s right, sucide watch!”
A part of him was deeply worried about Anakin. This anger he’d held had always been a part of him, but Obi-wan hadn’t realized how bright Anakin could truly shine in the darkness. The other part of him was pissed off.
“I don’t need a babysitter!” He snarled, and stepped forwards, head tilting up to meet Anakin’s gaze, getting back in his face instead. “I didn’t ask you to watch over me all the time! I didn’t ask for ANY OF THIS! I was looking for peace, or a break or for one fucking person who didn’t look at me like I was fucking broken! That’s it!” He was shouting now. “I can’t find solace in the force, I can’t find solace in rest, or meditation, or movement, I just want some peace! Some time when I can think of literally anything else! Anything! Is that okay with you?!”
His breath was heavy, and Anakin didn’t shy away from him, glowering back in equal measure.
“So what, I make you feel broken now? I don’t think you’re broken Obi-wan, I think you’re being a fucking dick! There are people who love you Obi-wan, like me!” His voice cracked a bit and the hurt came back into his face for a moment, and Obi-wan’s anger dimmed a little bit.
“When you leave like this and you lie to me, I worry because last week I wondered for the first time if you were going to kill yourself!”
Obi-wan scoffed derisively, and shoved Anakin a step back. He broke eye contact looked past his shoulder, shaking his head disgustedly. “I’m not going to fucking kill myself Anakin.”
Anakin crossed his arms. “Yeah, I’m crazy for thinking that. Cause you’ve been acting so normally recently. The picture of stability!” Obi-wan’s anger built right back up again, because he felt like at one point he had been stable and healthy and at peace. And now he’d lost it.
“Forgive me! Oh do forgive me for reacting like a normal person to…” he choked and cut himself off. Anakin didn’t say anything, just stood there, just like Obi-wan was standing there, fuming and still, neither of them looking at each other. There was a long silence.
Maybe he could redirect. “Are you aware that you are tapping into the dark side of the force?” His tone was sharp and condescending, meant to irritate.
He turned his shoulders so he was facing away from Anakin, looking up at the temple, then tilted his head to look at him out of the corner of his eye. “You’re far too angry. You must learn to control your emotions, not the other way around.”
Anakin’s expression flickered, shocked, then morphed into a smile, but it was far from a happy smile. Just teeth. Just claws. “I’m not stupid. I know what you’re doing. Don’t turn this around on me. We’re talking about you.”
“We are not talking about anything.” Obi-wan started up the stairs, chin raised, and, hopefully, dignity intact.
“Yes, we are!” Anakin followed him, obviously livid. “You can’t just walk away! I’m mad because you aren’t talking to me! You aren’t getting help! Insulting me won't get rid of me.”
Obi-wan closed his eyes as he walked, expression crumpling as he worked to block him out. Anakin went on, undeterred, scrambling up the steps behind him.
“What are you doing to help? Nothing! You’re hiding from it, you’re running!”
Obi-wan couldn’t take it. He whirled on him. “I’ve been back less than a week! I’m in therapy almost every day! I don’t talk because all I do is think about it and think about it and think about it! I don’t want you to know, I don’t want anyone to know, I wish you didnt! I’m so,” his voice wavered, “I’m so ashamed of- you can’t understand. You don't. I don’t want help because there's nothing anyone can do!”
Anakin’s face was still impenetrable. “You think I havent felt beyond help before? I have! I understand that feeling, but you’re not even trying, not really! You only go because you have to, I know it! If you cared about,” Anakin swallowed, “if you cared about me at all, you would want to get better!”
That was the core of it, Obi-wan supposed.
“I can’t get better. I can't even imagine being better.”
Anakin was ruthless. “It’s your job to try. You have to try! All you can do after all of this is try! You have to! You have to!” Anakin sounded like his childhood self, angry and wounded and hurt. Obi-wan met his gaze and saw all the suffering there in his eyes, and for a moment it wasn't General Skywalker in front of him, but his younger padawan, just a child, wearing the same expression. Why does no one feel the way I do, Obi-wan? Why does nobody else cry like me, or get angry? Why doesn’t anyone else care?
Obi-wan swallowed, and they watched each other, Anakin a step below him, slightly shorter than him for once, the glittering temple above them, night sky above that. Anakin’s brow was still furrowed, still angry.
Why doesn’t anyone else care the way I do?
His eyes watered despite the anger as the rigid wall he'd been trying to maintain folded.
“I care. I care, of course I care! How could you think that I don’t!” The lump in the back of his throat made it hard to raise his voice.
“Because you leave. You make me worry. You lie to me!”
Obi-wan didn’t say anything for a moment.
“I’m not doing anything to hurt you. I should be allowed to leave when I want.”
“Do you really believe that disappearing on your own in a bad mental state into the depths of coruscant was a good move? Really? Are you going to look me in my eyes and tell me that there was no chance you could have done anything irrational or dangerous? You’re really in a collected enough mindset to look me in the face and tell me that not a single part of you left to put yourself in danger?”
Obi-wan scowled and tried to look at Anakin. “I didn’t get in trouble! I'm back here aren’t I?”
“You aren’t looking at me.” Their eyes met.
Obi-wan hesitated, then opened his mouth. “Of course not. No chance.”
Liar.
Anakin watched him for a moment, then his face crumpled.
“Fine, Obi-wan. Fine. You win.” He turned to head back down into the city.
“Where are you going?” Obi-wan had turned to watch his retreat, the city spread out in front of them, a beautiful lie. He hadn’t expected Anakin to give up so easily.
“Message me when you get to your chambers.” Anakin turned back to face him. The fight was gone, his expression dejected and imploring. “Please.”
Then he was walking away, swift like a wave rushing away from the shore.
Obi-wan almost went after him, but turned and walked up the steps instead. Guilt reared it’s ugly head, but exhaustion was a more pressing feeling. He was always so tired. Maybe now he could think about their fight instead of everything else, and maybe he could sleep.
Chapter Text
It didn’t work. Obi-wan didn’t sleep well, though he hadn’t expected to. He didn’t really wake up when his comm started flashing in the morning; he just stopped lying down, hazy dreaming thoughts interrupted by the blinking light. Might as well be awake. The general chaos and commotion of the order didn’t improve his rest, though it was less of a problem now since he was isolating himself from the force.
He leaned over his bed to move the blinds aside. The mattress groaned as he shifted, and he absently scratched at his beard as he moved the shoved at the slats with his other hand. Need’s a trim, he thought as he squinted out his window. It wasn’t even dawn yet, sky still pitch dark with not even the beginnings of light present on the horizon. He cracked the window open, the fresh air drifting in and giving him more alertness. It smelled like it might rain later.
He dropped the blinds and turned to the flashing comm, which increased its intensity and started beeping as if responding to his attention. He picked it up and looked at the ID. M-009642. Kcaj.
He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat for a moment. Kcaj was a distant, harmless figure in Obi-wan’s life. Older and wiser, notable to him only for being another Jedi master whom he occasionally worked with. Their relationship was polite, professional, and remote.
He wouldn’t call without a purpose.
Obi-wan cleared his throat again and picked up.
“Master Kcaj. A pleasure. What can I do for you?” Obi-wan’s voice was gravelly despite his preparation. So much for appearing alert.
“Master Kenobi. I apologize for calling you so early.”
He looked at the time, then looked again. 0545 hrs. Not a good sign.
“Not a problem. You wouldn’t call so early without reason.” He aimed for an unbothered urgency, but he was concerned. This wasn’t about Anakin, was it?
“Yes, of course, you’re right. I am sorry to contact you during your sabbatical and so early, but we need to speak with you to discuss the details of your escape. We are worried our intel about Enarc was left incomplete with the suddenness of your return, and, of course, your health has left something to be desired.”
A cold fear turned his guts to ice, dropping his heart into the pit of his stomach. This was about him. “What else do you need to know? I’m not hiding anything. You collected the intel, you were there for my whole interview, you saw the whole place yourselves. You blew it up!” His voice had risen quite without his permission, and he’d sat up rigid straight on the bed, comm pressed hard to his ear, sure to leave an indent on his temple. He paused, and took a breath, collecting himself. “I don’t believe I have any other information I can offer to you. ”
“General Kenobi, nobody believes you capable of lying to the council, nor can we conceive a reason you would do so. We only need to collect a few more details concerning the data we stripped from the records information system at the base where you were held. I believe it was the Charlie Battalion prison block you were held in?”
Ostensibly, yes. That was just what they’d called the place, though it hadn’t been used to hold military members, nor were any troops from C-Battalion, to his knowledge, ever posted anywhere near the place.
“Yes, that is correct.” For your intents and purposes, he thought. He still didn’t understand the early hour.
“Well,” Kcaj’s voice was tinny through the comm, “we managed to obtain around 40% of the victims names and decrypt their respective uses.” Kcaj paused, and Obi-wan was glad he hadn’t activated the hologram portion of the communication; he was sure he looked as horrified as he felt. “We were unable to understand or piece together the motivation or incentive behind the operation. While it is obvious that the Vizier of the planet was no supporter of the republic,”
Obviously, Obi-wan thought derisively. He held me prisoner.
“-it has become apparent that neither was he clearly a separatist supporter either. Some of the information we’ve collected indicates that perhaps there were major separatist operatives also held in the same prison you were.”
Obi-wan said nothing. He doubted it.
Kcaj didn’t say anything for a moment, as if waiting for Obi-wan to add information that would clear everything up. “We need concrete data or a witness to testify against Vizier Marath Voroo, who we now hold in custody.”
What?
He’d thought the Vizier was dead, killed in the explosion like so many others. That was the intel he’d received. He couldn’t imagine if the man was still operating somewhere and people were…
“I thought he was dead!”
“In the chaos of everything that was happening post mission, for a while he was believed to be dead. We intercepted him fleeing the scene during a post ops scout, after you’d given your report. The information wasn’t important for you.”
“Wasn’t important for me? I can’t believe-” he cut himself off, pinched the bridge of his nose.
“There is plenty enough to testify against him in court; he’s held people prisoner. He’s committed war crimes, tortured POWs, that’s more than enough to go on!”
There were enough witnesses to tell anyone about their treatment in holding. Whether or not they were aware of the Vizier’s ownership, their testimonies would be evidence enough.
He realized he’d tuned out. “-be the case if there was any other supporting evidence. But as of now, his base has been blown up, any witnesses killed, and we have intel he is currently building a case against the Jedi, claiming they destroyed his base without just cause.”
“Without just cause?!” Obi-wan spluttered. “What about myself and the other prisoners that escaped? You said you retrieved data! I thought you captured the higher ranking officers! We’ll make them talk. And what about our own troopers?”
There was another long pause. “The information we stripped was corrupted in the first place. Unfortunately, we’ve had our data dredgers analyze it, and due to the amount of tampering by a number of poorly trained individuals, there is too much corruption of the original source for it to hold up in court. We speculate they scrambled the data in the last moments once they received intel of our attack.”
Obi-wan waited for him to continue, then prompted him when he didn’t. “And the officers? The other escapees? Our troops?”
“What do our troopers know of extraction missions Obi-wan? What do they really know?”
Obi-wan scratched his beard. The troopers were trained to find a target, extract said target, and get out. They followed orders. They’d been told to bomb a base, so they had. They’d been told to overcome another military force, so they had. That was all there was to it. No trooper would be able to testify to the war crimes being committed there, especially because the torture that Obi-wan and most of the others had been subjected to left no marks. Not visible ones, anyways. All his injuries had been obtained from the fight afterwards. Or healed for the next customer.
“And the other escapees? Their officers?”
Kcaj sighed. “There was an incident last night. Perhaps you heard some of the commotion.”
He hadn’t. And he hadn’t been notified by the force either.
“What is it? What happened?” Dread started to build.
Another sigh, and a pause. “I- I would not involve you were it not necessary. Before I go on, I want to ask, are you genuinely recovering? I understand you have been back at the temple for six rotations now, and-”
“Tell me!” Obi-wan’s hands were shaky and his voice got weaker. “I deserve to know.”
The silence was thick and permeated the room for a long moment, and Obi-wan heard Kcaj inhale as he made his decision. Though, Obi-wan supposed, it had probably already been made when he’d called.
“Their higher ranking officers were the target of a hit last night. We had 8 individuals involved in the operation, from an original 31 that were listed in their records. They were in charge of keeping yourself and 152 other prisoners in check during their time there.”
Obi-wan didn’t say anything. Kcaj kept rattling off numbers.
“We didn’t share this with you, but of the original 152 prisoners, only 48 of them escaped.”
Obi-wan’s mouth fell open in shock. “What? But I was told that-”
“You were in a state of shock when you returned. You didn’t ask the big questions, so we didn’t give you the big answers.” His voice was neutral, simply stating facts the way they were. Obi-wan’s thoughts were obscured by sharp emotion for a moment before he forced it out of the way.
“I was told that most of the prisoners had been liberated and were being treated in the halls of healing.” His voice was trembling, but laced with venom. He hadn’t gone to check, of course he hadn’t. Why would he? The last thing he needed was to put faces to the voices he’d heard whenever the force field and slid open long enough for other noise to come through. He did not need to see his own hollow gaze reflected in the eyes of another person gone through the same thing.
“How…” Obi-wan trailed off. Part of him wanted to hang up the call.
“As soon as the base was compromised, there was a fail switch pulled. It started to scramble the data and initiated a shutdown. Only your cell block, 6742, and one other, 6744, were spared from electrocution. Two surviving prisoners from your block were killed in the fight.”
Obi-wan blinked rapidly, attempting to get his emotions under control. He’d been lucky. So god damn lucky and he didn’t even know it.
His eyes filled with water and his hand was getting sore from holding the comm so tightly. Is this what luck felt like? The dread was still building. The other prisoners themselves were still proof. Regardless of a case being built against the Jedi, evidence to the contrary would demolish whatever their opposition had to say. Evidence was evidence. Rape was rape.
Kcaj, unaware of his state, continued on. “As I said, of the officers, most went down in the following firefight. The eight we had in custody were killed last night, which implies that they had important information and that they have-”
“Yes I know. Ongoing ties. Someone big is still interfering.”
“Additionally, you understand that the Vizier is well viewed and well supported. He has created a strong alliance with Kalinda and Umgul, and other planets on the Enarc run, excluding Naboo, of course.”
Naboo was an outlier in its area for being so vocal about the Galactic Republic. The mid rim had always been difficult to get onboard.
“People won’t be willing to forgo their normal trade routes to back up a human rights violation. The Vizier will have no problem gaining support for his case.”
“You think I don’t know that? I am on sabbatical, not inept.”
Kcaj didn’t say anything.
Obi-wan cleared his throat and moved on. “What about the other escapees?”
“The attack wasn’t limited to the prisoners in the cells, but also targeted the hall of healers. Every liberated individual was still receiving treatment at the halls of healing, with the exception of two other individuals who left the temple almost immediately. We haven’t been able to regain contact with them.”
Obi-wan was frozen.
“We don’t understand how, but we believe there was someone on the inside, and we are hoping an autopsy will show. They were found dead without exception. All previously in recovery, no signs of foul play or resistance, each person dead in their chambers.”
Obi-wan swallowed. It felt wrong to immediately speculate, but..
“Could it have been an attack through the force? People who can’t sense the force could, hypothetically, be hit simultaneously with a force surge?”
Kcaj didn’t answer for a moment. “No, that can’t be the case. Several of the prisoners were slightly force sensitive, according to their records. And we had another jedi, long missing, that was discovered in that ring who was killed tonight.”
Obi-wan didn’t think his stomach had any further to drop. “Who?”
Kcaj cleared his throat. “Jedi Knight Rig Narmec. She was found in your wing, and put in a medical coma. She woke up last night and died at the same moment as the others. While she was certainly weakened, she was capable of using the force to block any kind of attack.” His voice became skeptical. “Why do you imagine something like this is possible, Obi-wan? We haven’t come across anything of the sort, certainly nothing targeted enough to hit only survivors of a certain mission.”
“I don’t know! They had a lot of tech that we hadn’t heard of before that mission.”
Kcaj rebutted him pretty quickly. “Nobody else has been able to give a detailed report on that. The only person who mentioned any kind of tech was you. I believe you said, yes I have the report open.” There were several tapping sounds as Kcaj opened the file, which he had presumably just been perusing. “You stated, about their tech, ‘It was more sophisticated than anticipated upon capture. Their knockout gas was able to filter through the standard gas mask each Jedi is given. They had force fields around each cell that were not only opaque, but sound proofed.’ At this time you started to feel sick. The record states ‘Master Kenobi sought medical treatment at this point.”
Obi-wan grit his teeth. “I said more than that.”
“Not about their tech.” Kcaj waited for him to say something. “We need to know how they managed to do this, Obi-wan. And we need to figure out why they didn’t hit you last night, and if they’ll hit you next.”
“Fine! Fine. Just,” Obi-wan rubbed his beard and blinked heavily. “Give me a moment. I’ll be there.”
“As soon as you can, please, Obi-wan. May the force be with-” Obi-wan hung up.
May the fucking force be with you too.
………………………….
Anakin’s foray into the city had been ill advised. After storming away angrily, he quickly felt aimless. Walking through Coruscant had very rarely brought him peace. He’d stormed here mostly so he didn’t have to storm off in the same direction as Obi-wan. He sighed, found a corner table at a bar that was relatively isolated, and called Padme. He’d neglected her lately, with everything else going on, and she always knew what to say when Obi-wan and him fought.
“Ani!” Her voice came through the comm. He didn’t have her holo for fear that someone might recognize her. He was secluded enough, but it still never hurt to be cautious. He smiled at her obvious enthusiasm. They were far too busy, the both of them.
“Hey Padme.” It felt so nice just to speak with her, like she was the center of an oasis that he’d been walking towards for a long while.
“Is everything alright? You said you were planning on working late tonight.”
“No, I mean yes, it is alright, but I just,” he cleared his throat. “Obi-wan was lying to me. I went to help him and Kcaj, but he wasn’t there. I found him returning from the city like, an hour ago!” As he reshashed the events leading him to the back streets of Coruscant, he felt the anger rise up in him again.
“Oh, well is he okay?” Padme’s voice was lit with concern. She knew Obi-wan’s latest mission had been one of the more difficult ones. She also knew he was taking a sabbatical, but nothing more than that.
“Yeah, I mean, he was fine, but he lied about where he was going! You know how volatile he’s been lately! He can’t just, leave like that, when everyone is worried about him, I mean, you remember, he’s been unstable!”
“Why did he go down to the city?”
“He said he wanted some space.”
“What did you say?”
“I said he can’t just leave like that when everybody is worried about him! He lied, Padme! He can’t lie! Not about this!”
“He shouldn’t have lied, Ani. You’re right.”
“Thank you!”
“Did he not come back to the temple with you?”
“Ummm….” Anakin ran a hand through his hair.
Her voice was filled with resignation when she answered. “You fought, didn’t you? Of course you did. Why wouldn’t you?”
“He said he doesn’t care enough about me to help himself!”
“Is that really what he said?” Her voice sounded skeptical.
“Yes!”
“Anakin,” her voice was exasperated, “Anakin, my love, my light, I’ll be in my rooms in twenty minutes. Meet me there?”
He slumped, his anger quelled. “Yeah, okay.”
………………………..
With the aid of a taxi, the trip was quick, and he arrived moments after Padme did, opening the door to see her across the room, just starting to remove the pins from her hair. She met his eyes in the mirror then whirled from the stool she was perched on. He caught her up in two strides, arms tight around her in an instant.
They breathed together for a moment, and she hummed contentedly in his ear.
Anakin’s voice was muffled in her hair. “It’s been like, a week since I’ve seen you. It shouldn’t feel like this every time.” He held her tighter, her small frame thrumming in his arms.
“I know. But it always does.”
“Like magnets.” He pulled away to look her in the eyes, running his fingers over the silken strands of her hair that she’d freed.
Her arms went around his waist, and she smiled. “Magnets?”
“Yeah, magnets! You know, the further apart they are you still feel the pull, but the closer you get to each other, the faster and faster you’re moving, until boom! You’re in my arms again.”
He pulled her close and tucked her head under his chin. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
He could feel her laughing against him, and he grinned, then winced as his chin caught on a pin in her hair. He tugged it slightly but pulled the wrong way.
“Oww!” She pulled back and swatted his hand, and he put them in the air, chagrined. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, grinning, “I was trying to help.”
“And who’s going to save me from the man who tries to help?” She teased, turning back to sit on her stool.
“His beautiful wife?” Anakin tried, winking exaggeratedly in the mirror, bringing his hands to her shoulders. She laughed, warm and easily, reaching up to cover one of his hands where it rested.
“I suppose she can try.” Their gazes crossed again, and she twisted her head to look back at him, and he leaned down to kiss her.
She was soft and sweet, and they moved together so perfectly. Then, he pulled back and bit her nose. She spluttered and pushed him away, giggling. “You know I hate when you do that!”
“That’ll be more believable if you stopped smiling.”
“Whatever, mister, back to the hair, please.” He reached up obediently. “And there's a twist at the base, so don’t just tug willy-nilly.” He put on a mock serious face.
“Yes Senator, of course not, Senator.” She elbowed him, and he kissed her cheek, then got to work.
“How many of these are there?” He asked. They were lovely pins, white and smooth, each holding what seemed like individual hairs in place to achieve a sort of spiraling flower on the back of her head. The effect was regal, but looked painful.
“Too many.”
Anakin quirked a brow in agreement, then twisted the base of a pin and let the hair loose. It fell softly over her shoulder, smooth and silky in his fingers. He reached for another, and for a time they sat quietly in each other’s company, a luxury they very rarely were able to indulge in.
He ran his fingers through the ever growing section of freed curls on her head,detangling them gently and enjoying their texture at the same time, knowing that Padme liked having her hair played with.
“Are you feeling any better?” Padme was watching him in the mirror, and he fiddled with the pin as he met her gaze.
“You always make me feel better.”
She tilted her head. “You’re very sweet, but I mean about Obi-wan.”
Anakin frowned unconsciously, as he reached for another pin. He tugged too hard on the base by accident and Padme winced. “Oh, sorry,” he muttered. He set the pin down with the others, looking at the rest of her hair. They weren’t yet halfway.
“I’ve calmed down some, I just worry about him. And he doesn’t seem to care that people are worried about him.” He ran over their fight again in his head, turning it over for another angle. “I don’t get it! It’s not like him, it’s, it’s” his jaw worked around the words to find the one he was looking for. “It’s cruel! He’s being inconsiderate.”
Padme nodded, and Anakin carefully unclasped another pin. “I’m surprised he’s acting that way.”
“Yeah, me too.” Anakin muttered.
“It’s been a bad week for him, hasn’t it?” Padme knew he’d gone missing temporarily. Some things were meant to be secret, but Anakin’s wife pretty much knew everything. Almost everything.
“Yeah, it has been.”
“He still hasn’t been very forthcoming about his capture, has he?” Padme’s eyebrows tilted up, her forehead crinkling like it did when she feared for someone. She was compassionate, and Anakin knew that one day he would be pressing his lips to the lovely wrinkles on her forehead that her big heart had pressed into her skin.
“He’s said some things, but not a lot. I know it was really bad for him.” Anakin’s lips curved down hard, anger rising in him the way it did when he knew he was actually sad but didn’t have an enemy to fight.
“Ani,” she turned to face him, and Anakin dropped her hands from her hair and looked past her inquiring expression. “What is it?”
He felt his bottom lip start to tremble like it always did when he was upset. It was a betrayer, and he tried to focus on the anger, but it was hard when his angel was here in front of him, clasping his hand.
“It was worse than I expected.” His voice was a little hoarse, and he tried to steady it and make sure his eyes didn't water. She was still watching him with little comprehension. “What he told me,” he clarified, “it was worse than I thought it would be.”
She nodded and squeezed his hand. “Ani, he shouldn’t have lied to you. That wasn’t fair of him.” He held her hand back. “But I think you’re more mad about what happened to him than you are at him.” He met her gaze. Her thumb rubbed a circle on his pulse point.
“He doesn’t care if he makes me worry.”
“Based on what you said, and how he’s been acting, I don’t believe he’s thinking clearly.” He watched her. Her voice was gentle and reasonable.
He already knew that what she said was true, so he nodded. “But still, if he cared about me, about any of us, he wouldn’t just disappear like that!”
Padme knew him too well. “Obi-wan cares for you, Anakin, he loves you, you know he does.” Anakin scoffed and looked away. This had been a frequent conversation point over the years. Anakin wasn’t worried about Obi-wan disappearing as much as he was worried that Obi-wan didn’t care about Anakin as much as Anakin did about him, and she could see that. He could see that.
Obi-wan could even probably see that.
“He doesn’t show it very well.”
Padme stood up and took both his hands in hers. “You know he wasn’t raised like you. You’re different from everyone else, Ani.” He felt his lips turn down again, but she cupped his face. “Not because you weren’t raised in the order, but because you love so strongly. I fell in love with your heart, your passion.” Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones soothingly, and he reached up to clasp her wrists and keep her there.
“I know that. We’ve talked about it before.”
“I know we have.” She paused. “He isn’t trying to hurt you, he’s just hurting right now.”
“I know.” His voice came out sounding pouty, and Padme smirked a little bit.
“ I know.” She mimicked, raising her voice slightly, and Anakin cracked a smile and nudged her.
“Wow, madam senator, getting sassy! Watch out, wouldn’t want to make your hairdresser quit.”
She kissed him and ran a hand through his hair, fondly pushing it back from his face. “He would never.”
………………………….
Anakin was jolted out of sleep by a heavy disturbance in the force, and he jostled Padme when he sat up.
“Ani?” She mumbled, blinking heavily, roused out of deep sleep. “What’s wrong, another nightmare?”
Anakin looked at her lying there. She was so beautiful, overflowing with concern and love for him. He knew he didn’t deserve her.
She started to sit up, and he leaned over to gently push her down again, then cupped her cheek.
“No, not a nightmare. I’ve just been summoned to the temple.” It wasn’t quite a lie; the force had summoned him there. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious.” He glanced at the clock. 0430 hours, which meant Padme had hours to sleep still. “Go back to sleep, Padme. I’ll send you a message later, okay?”
She nodded, the concern melting off her face, already sliding back into sleep. He leaned forward to kiss her lips, and she weakly returned it.
“Be safe,” she murmured. He watched her for a moment as her breathing started to even out, her eyes closing.
“I will.”
…………………………..
For once, Anakin was glad for the hustle and bustle of Coruscant. The city was always awake, so a taxi was never hard to find. He was dressed and back at the temple within twenty minutes, and it was as he was mounting the steps that his comm went off.
It wasn’t unexpected. The disturbance had been large, and surely the Jedi council knew that Anakin was, and always would be, the best equipped Jedi to handle it.
He answered the comm without breaking stride, and Holo-Windu popped up on his screen.
“Skywalker.” It still rankled him when Windu ‘forgot’ his honorific.
“Master Windu. Calling about that disturbance?” Windu’s expression didn’t change. He also didn’t comment on Anakin’s obviously alert state. He didn’t care either way.
“Yes, that is correct. We need you to come to the council room. There has been an attack on the Enarcian refugees, and we need you to consult.”
“Why’s that?” Anakin wanted Windu to say it.
“You’re the most force sensitive Jedi in this temple. We need your skillset.” His tone was flat, almost sarcastic. Anakin didn’t mind. He smirked.
“I’m already on my way. I’ll be there shortly.” He hung up, reveling in Windu’s annoyance, then belatedly registering the information.
An attack on the Enarcian escapees? Anakin knew that most of them had been killed, and the remainder were housed in the halls of healing. He also knew Obi-wan had no idea how lucky he’d been surviving the wave of execution that had wracked the cell block. He only knew about it because he’d been the one who sensed the simultaneous deaths and reported the likely cause to the council.
Obi-wan simply didn’t need to know. And he wouldn’t.
For a moment, Anakin feared that Obi-wan had been a casualty, then dismissed the idea as soon as it came up. He’d know if Obi-wan was dead; the force would tell him.
It was a short walk from the top of the stairs to the meeting room, and he followed the sound of raised voices, quirking a brow at the noise. It wasn’t common for the masters to interrupt their usual meeting procedure; calm, collected, reasonable ideas all shared in a peaceful, respectful space.
Anakin had always hated it, thriving in the chaos of arguments, basking in emotions he could twist to his own purposes. This was actually ideal for him. Well, if he could keep his head.
He opened the door and stepped in. They were quite involved in the conversation, and Anakin took a moment to take stock of the room. Yaddle and Ki-adi mundi were present, gesturing towards diagrams and layouts that Shaak Ti held in front of her. There were two people he didn’t know looking somewhat more bedraggled than the rest of the room in their Healers uniforms. Their presence was highly irregular, and Anakin squinted at them for a moment, then moved on. Kcaj and Plo Kloon were speaking with Kit Fisto. Fisto was obviously more agitated, an obvious look of distress on his face, his voice rising and falling with each wave of emotion. What was going on?
Finally, Yoda and Windu were speaking amongst themselves at the front of the room. Windu’s eyes turned to Anakin, and Yoda followed his gaze. The two of them quickly crossed the room and Anakin strode to meet them, the other conversations slowly dwindling as the Masters noticed him enter the mix.
He stopped in front of Windu and Yoda and bowed. “Masters. I’m here to consult, as you’ve requested.”
Windu nodded and dismissed him, then gestured to the group.
“Everyone, please gather round. We are going to hold something of a round table today, formalities are unnecessary at this juncture.”
Kit Fisto walked to stand beside Anakin, back straight, expression stern, and Plo Kloon stood to his left, unreadable as always. Maybe he just needed to spend more time with Kel Dorians.
The rest of the masters filed into a standing semi circle, with Master Windu and Yoda standing at their center.
Windu cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming at this early hour. You are all here because you either felt the disturbance in the force, or I called you in.” His gaze glanced over each of them, stopping at Anakin for a moment, then continuing on.
“We previously held 45 enarcian escapees in the halls of healing from the Mike/25-vmv last week, as well as 8 commanding officers in detention from the base.”
Mission25: Vizier Marath Voroo, Anakin remembered.
“The force disturbance you heard earlier was each of those individuals being killed in the night.”
Everyone’s expressions tightened. Nobody spoke.
“We called everyone in to glean some insights. A security breach at this level indicates someone on the inside either letting an assailant in, or conducting the attacks themselves.”
“No footage found, was there, of any assailant on the security system,” Yoda said grimly. “Unknown and untraceable, have we found the cause of death for each individual.”
He waved a hand and one of the healers stepped forwards. He was a middle aged man, tanned skin with a receding hairline. He stood tall, but Anakin could see he was obviously rattled.
“Masters, I am Healer Gona.” Anakin watched him sceptically. Apparently he’d already failed catastrophically. Hopefully he had something of value to add.
“Myself and Mea have been the Level-A caretakers on the Enarcian cases at the halls of healing.” He gestured to the tall Twilik standing beside him. Her expression was severe and unchanging.
“I have little to share. Everything was going as usual. Most of the patients were asleep, or at the very least attempting to rest, and the treatments that injured individuals were receiving were continuing at a steady pace. With the exception of two coma’s, everyone liberated was starting to make a steady recovery, if not scheduled from release from the halls within the week. 13 of the individuals staying with us had recovered completely from minor injuries and were staying at the temple to receive psychological support and organize their journey home.” His hands were still at his sides, expression unwavering. Anakin admired his poise and quested out towards him, slightly surprised to notice he was a little force sensitive. He’d heard that many of the healers were force sensitive, but he hadn’t realized that some had enough to be detected.
Mea stepped in. “Every vitals monitor that we had going crashed at once, 10 in total, and we had an influx of staff enter to deal with the emergency, but we couldn’t understand what had happened. Everybody we had been monitoring had flatlined. There was very little anybody could do; all revival attempts were unsuccessful.” The only tell on her face was a slight downturn of her lips. “The other patients who weren’t being monitored didn’t rouse to the noise whatsoever, and when we started examining them, we found that they were also deceased, if not at the exact same moment then within minutes of the others.”
“A quick investigation of the psych wing showed us the same results. We had our coroner droids scan every person- none were able to find a cause of death.”
Yoda and Windu didn’t react, only watched the masters. Gona stepped back again and folded his hands in front of him, report complete.
Anakin interrupted the heavy silence. “You weren’t able to get anyone back to any level of consciousness? Not even with a shock?”
Gona shook his head. “We tried adrenaline shots and bacta as well when it became clear that our regular treatments were having no effect. We have a wide range of support technology here, and many alternate ways to attempt revival. To not be able to get anybody into even Vfib is not unheard of, but it is unlikely.”
Kit Fisto jumped in. “Why is that?”
Mea answered quickly. “We have many species here. Some even have two hearts, back up adrenal glands to restart the heart, safety measures that we can trigger to return them to life with remarkable ease. Out of 44 people, in this day and age, we should have been able to save somebody.”
“44?” Shaak Ti put in. “I thought you said there were 45.”
“Master Kenobi is the exception.” Windu’s voice was firm. “He wasn’t at the temple at the time of the attack, and we have already verified he is still present and breathing in his chambers, though we haven’t called him in yet. We sent a knight past his door and his force signature is steady.”
Anakin felt a wave of protectiveness surge over him. Obi-wan didn’t need to be a part of this.
“We need to bring him in,” Kcaj said decisively. “Master Kenobi is our sole survivor, we need to examine him and determine what allowed him to survive.”
Anakin was surprised when Gona interjected. “Master Kenobi is in no state to go over the details of this attack with all of you. He has taken a sabbatical and protocol 4DA-12 is currently in progress to improve his wellbeing. He is in conference with a healer of his own.”
“With all due respect, healer, Master Kenobi’s health is not our priority at the moment. We need all the intel we can get; the mission must come first.”
Gona’s face was carved out of marble. “I disagree.”
Windu turned away without reply, dismissing Gona entirely as he turned to Yoda. Anakin felt the heat inside him rise to a hot open flame.
“No more informed on this subject is Master Kenobi than the rest of us.” Yoda scanned the faces in front of him as if attempting to glean information on them.
“That may be the case,” Plo Kloons voice rasped, “but we can examine him and determine if there are any differences between him and the other patients.”
Anakin watched as Meas’s lips thinned into a line and opened his own mouth to retaliate.
“The attack was obviously based on the location of the majority. We can’t bring Master Obi-wan in on this one. You’re not allowed to break protocol.” His voice was much sharper than he’d intended, and several of the masters glanced at him reproachfully, including Windu. Gona regarded him with an unreadable expression, but Anakin hardly noticed, attention fixed on Windu.
Windu’s gaze bore into his own, a silent showdown. For a moment Anakin hoped he could rile him up and render him an unreliable opinion on this topic, but quickly dismissed the idea. Windu was as unchanging and unfeeling as stones, and Anakin hated him for it. Windu was quiet for a moment, forcing them all to sit in Anakin’s bad attitude. Anakin couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“Kenobi has intel that he has been reluctant to share.”
Yaddle pulled up a document on her holo and stepped forwards. “Kenobi’s previous report was lacking. He was brief and left quickly, presumably to the halls of healing, though there is no record of him there. He states that ‘the tech used was more sophisticated than anticipated.’ He speaks of the weaponized gases they had as well as the equipment they used to contain prisoners, but was unable to report more detail. When asked about the purpose of his imprisonment, he stated that ‘he was unable to determine a purpose for his capture,’ and that ‘there had been no questioning under duress,’ which is an irregularity for a mission like this.”
Fisto jumped into the conversation. “It is essential that we determine the cause of the attack! Obviously there is something larger going on here.”
Anakin scoffed. “Well, Obi-wan doesn’t know anything about that. If there was something he didn’t want to share, he probably didn’t share it for a reason.”
“How do you know?” Kcaj asked. The eyes of the council on him were unnerving.
Anakin didn’t really have an answer, and the silence was thick for a moment longer. Windu interrupted again.
“In the little data we were able to glean from the attack, we have been led to understand that this was a human trafficking organization, and there were several names that were prostituted, according to these records. Master Kenobi may have intel, names, and information on the people involved in the Vizier’s base. Very detailed information.”
The implication of his words was not missed by the council. Anakin’s vision went white hot for a moment before clearing again. Ki-Adi mundi had gone pale, and Shaak Ti’s mouth had slackened. Fisto seemed taken aback, though it was hard to tell. Kcaj, oddly, looked ashamed. Gona looked surprised, and as infuriated as Anakin. Anakin opened his mouth to let Windu have it, but Kcaj beat him to it.
“The information our data dredgers were able to restore was corrupted, and unreliable. The council doesn’t even know if it’s true; we cannot base a court case on an unconfirmed rumour gleaned from a messy pile of data.”
Court case? His confusion must’ve shown on his face because Yoda elaborated quickly.
“Alive, we have found Vizier Marath Voroo. Building a case against the Jedi, he is. To the senate court, it will likely go.”
“What?!” Anakin burst out. “We were told he was dead! Why didn’t I know about this?” He looked around the room. Fisto and Kcaj glanced away from him and Anakin felt some satisfaction at the shame on their faces. Shaak Ti met his eyes levelly, with apology, but no regret. He looked around wildly for more support, but even Yaddle showed no shock on her face. Everyone had hidden this from him, and his sense of betrayal rose.
Windu regarded him coldly. “We had no need of your input.” Anakin spluttered wordlessly. Windu carried on, unperturbed. “He has accused the Jedi of attacking him, and is systematically destroying evidence of wrongdoing. The more information we have, the better. Obi-wan needs to tell us everything- that’s the only way we’ll determine how this happened.”
“Obi-wan doesn’t know anything!” Anakin practically roared the words. “Forcing him to talk won’t help anyone! He’s on sabbatical! Leave him some peace, for kriffs sake!”
Windu watched him for a moment. “The case is too important.”
“You’re saying Obi-wan is worth less than this mission?” Anakin asked flatly.
“Yes. As every Jedi is.”
…………………………………………
Anakin paced outside. He’d been asked to vacate the chambers for a moment to “cool off.” Sure he’d shouted. They all deserved it. Yeah, he’d cool off. He’d cool off exactly as much as was necessary to get back in there, analyze the force signature, then destroy every single one of them for suggesting that Obi-wan was disposable.
Obi-wan might agree. It was an insidious thought. Probably true, but that didn’t matter. Obi-wan would agree because he had a cripplingly low self esteem, especially now. That didn’t mean he was right.
The doors opened, and Anakin whirled to face it. Gona and Kcaj stepped out. Kcaj met his furious stare for a moment, then turned down the hall, comm in hand. Anakin growled and started after him.
“General Skywalker!” He grit his teeth, watching Kcaj turn the corner, lifting his comm to his ear, then clenched his jaw and turned to face the healer.
Gona stepped back from his rage and swallowed, obviously cowed. Anakin took a second to relax his shoulders, unclench his fists, and organize his features into something more human, less monster.
“Yes, Healer Gona, what is it?” His words were more clipped than they could have been, but given the circumstances, it was pretty damn good.
Gona cleared his throat. “I wanted to let you know that Kenobi’s healer has been contacted. Master Kenobi is being summoned to the council meeting right now, but Healer Liax is also in route. As his direct healer, I am optimistic that he will be able to help.”
It was little comfort. “And if he’s not?”
Gona looked uncomfortable. “I don’t really understand how the Jedi order operates, but as far as I can tell, Master Kenobi can’t be forced to speak on subjects he doesn’t wish to.”
“The council will make him! They’ll interrogate him, and ask him questions, try to reveal secrets he’s not ready to speak aloud! Maybe he never will! He’s been back for a week! He’s not prepared to go over everything that happened, you must’ve looked at his records. He isn’t well!”
Gona raised his hands placatingly, and Anakin realized he was looming again and took a step back.
Gona spoke calmly and reassuringly, like Anakin was something that needed to be tamed. He sort of was.
“All we can do is wait. I don’t have direct jurisdiction, and therefore I don’t have the proper insight into the action of this protocol to enforce any type of litigation on the subject. All we can do is wait to see what Master Kenobi wants, and what Liax is able to do for him.”
Anakin clenched and unclenched his fists. The door creaked open again. It was Fisto.
“General Skywalker, please come to examine the force signature readings with the rest of the masters, if you are now able to do so.” There was no bite to the words, but they stung all the same. Anakin narrowed his eyes and glanced and Gona, who nodded, then replied.
“Not a problem.” He stepped inside the chambers to wait for Obi-wan.
…………………………………………
Obi-wan’s steps slowed as he approached the council room, clutching the coffee he’d detoured to get. His grip was firm, and the cup was thin styrofoam so the heat went right through. When he sipped it, it went straight to his stomach, and for a moment it made him feel more flesh and blood, less spinning, spiraling emotion.
His teeth felt like they were chattering inside his mouth as he stood in front of the door, body vibrating and humming with anxiety. He didn’t know what the council did know and what they didn’t. He couldn’t stand the idea of his experiences becoming open knowledge. He’d never be able to meet anyone’s eyes again. Even if they suspected, it would be over for him. They’d be able to read it on his face, in his hands, on his skin, in the bend of his shoulders, the weak faltering of his gaze. They’d see what he was, and it would make that small truth bigger and bigger until he was gone and that story was all that was left of Obi-wan, the humiliation swallowing him instead of the other way around.
It was a surprise they hadn’t read it already. Sometimes he felt like victimhood was a heavy coat on his shoulders that he couldn’t take off. Standing straight felt dangerous, and shrinking back from stern eye contact, from dominant stances and strong body language felt ingrained, though he knew it hadn’t always been so. He felt like he would suffocate in it, but shedding the layers of protection he’d learnt how to build felt worse.
He stepped up to the door and listened for a moment, body tensing more at the sound of distressed chatter and raised voices, knowing that soon the commotion would be focused on him.
He didn’t even have a plan yet; panic shrouded his logical mind, and any silver tongued cleverness he might’ve once been known for seemed like a fantasy. He felt like a rat, ugly and shaking as he pushed the door open and felt all eyes turn to him.
Yoda was first to speak. “Master Obi-wan. Thank you for joining us, I do.”
Windu waved to some chairs set up in a spaced out half circle with the one at the edge slightly tilted in, two more set facing the rest of the circle, different from the usual formal seating arrangement they often defaulted to. His nervousness ratcheted up another notch.
It seemed he had tunnel vision as he walked to the first seat Windu pointed to, the one tilted at the edge, slightly facing the others, and sat down hard. He would be speaking to everyone, then. The other masters quickly followed, filling in the other seats of the circle.
He had the wherewithal to scan the group of them, searching for the signs of their emotional states now that he no longer had the crutch of the force to help him read them. He wasn’t able to glean much from them, but he was out of his element. It was surprising, really, to feel so unsettled. He very rarely felt this level of dread, even in most battles. Though, he hadn’t really felt helpless before, until his most recent capture.
There was little comfort to be found in the faces of his fellow council members. Fisto, Kcaj, Shaak Ti, Yaddle, everyone else was all there, but they held themselves apart from him. He got a slight acknowledgement from Ki-adi mundi, and a supportive nod from Yoda, but Windu ignored him entirely as he sat at the front of the room. In this room filled with people he’d grown up with and fought beside, Obi-wan felt very desperately alone.
His heart stopped and restarted when Anakin sat down in the seat directly across from him. He gaped, and their gazes crossed for a long moment. What was he doing here? Anakin held a strange grief in his eyes, fighting with a hot rage he was obviously working hard to keep buried, and for a moment Obi-wan thought it was aimed at him. Then it heightened when Windu cleared his throat. Anakin glanced at Windu, then back to Obi-wan, his eyes intent on his. Obi-wan knew what it meant.
I’m with you.
A kind of relief washed over him, their fight postponed to fight a common enemy. Hopefully Anakin had more insight to exactly what was going on than Obi-wan did. Either way, Anakin would be on his side, and the fear lessened very slightly with the knowledge that he would not be on his own.
“Master Kenobi.” Windu’s voice resonated through the chamber, and Obi-wan snapped his gaze to Windu, shoulders curling at the authority in his voice.
“I have asked Master Kcaj to inform you why we needed you to report this morning. Thank you for coming so quickly.” Obi-wan met his eyes and nodded slightly, hoping his unease wasn’t as obvious as it felt. He twisted the cup in his hands again, and the styrofoam squeaked under the twist of the lid. Windu eyed the cup sceptically, then turned to address the council.
“Masters, please be refrained when we speak to Obi-wan about his capture. We are eager to receive his intel, but he is on sabbatical right now. This is not an interrogation or a questioning. Nor is this a formal report. This is simply a conversation between colleagues.”
Hence the circle, Obi-wan thought. It was a clever workaround. With protocol 4DA-12, the subject was to be relieved of any duty, and could leave any work they found objectionable during that time period. This, however, was not considered an official meeting. They weren’t taking minutes, there weren’t any recording devices, and formal council was not taking place. They were outside regular hours, and Fisto and Yaddle were both wearing black training gear instead of Jedi robes.
“Master Kenobi. Your previous report was lacking in detail. Master Kcaj has briefed you on the circumstances under which you have been summoned here. The other masters are here to brainstorm with you as to what you believe is happening, to gain any other insight you have, and to later perform a medical exam to determine why you were the only person who didn’t perish tonight. Any objections?”
The silence was thick as honey, and Obi-wan held eye contact for a moment before dropping his gaze and shaking his head slowly.
“I’ve already had a medical exam, though.” he murmured. “I won’t need another.”
He glanced back up to gauge the reaction. Windu was nodding. “We’ll gain access to those records and ensure the information we need is present. Hopefully we can get the access forms signed quickly.”
A lump strangled him for a moment. “My medical files are confidential.”
Windu wasn’t looking at him, tapping away at a pad on his lap. “Yes, I know that, which is while we will have you sign a form, Master Kenobi.”
Obi-wan shook his head. “No, no form.” His voice was small and unsure. Windu looked up sharply.
“We need to compare your vitals and state to the prisoners who died in the attack tonight. If we can determine the methodology, we’ll be able to narrow down a suspect.”
Obi-wan just shook his head. Windu reminded him of a boiling pot, heating up and heating up, and the tension grew.
“We can come back to that.” Fisto interjected with a false light heartedness.
A pause. “We will.”
There was a creaking across from him, and Obi-wan watched Anakin shift in his chair, obviously pissed off and doing his best to let everyone know it. It almost made him smile.
“Allowed to leave the conversation, you are.” Yoda added.
“At the detriment of hundreds of lives,” Windu replied scathingly. “We need this information, Master Kenobi.”
“I’ll talk, just, let me think about the records.”
Obi-wan squeezed his cup again and heard a bit of a snap of the styrofoam, the edge of the lid cracking a little bit. The slight sounds of people moving and breathing in the room felt stifling.
“I-” his throat was dry, and he licked his lips. “I don’t know what I can possibly offer you. I am just as much in the dark as the rest of you are as to what happened tonight. Apparently more so, actually, as I had no idea the Vizier lived.” He tried to pack accusation into his voice, but he sounded more tired than anything else.
“Kcaj says that you hypothesized that this attack could have been a force wave that was made to be a targeted hit. Is there anything that led you to that idea? Nobody in this council has been made aware of anything like this before.” Ki-Adi Mundi was all business and Obi-wan felt his gaze going through him while he spoke, not really able to look into Ki-Adi-Mundi’s eyes. He took a sip of his coffee.
“I don’t know what you want to hear. They were very high tech. I witnessed some developments that I hadn’t seen before, but they are there in the report.” That was mostly a lie, but perhaps Kcaj would be kind enough not to point that out in front of the council. Windu looked to Kcaj, who spoke without prompting.
“Your previous report, master, was very brief, speaking only of their sound proofed force fields and bioweapon technology. Based on your extrapolation, you witnessed more than that.” Alright, so he wasn’t kind enough.
He looked towards Anakin, hoping to ground himself with a friendly face. Anakin was watching him, lips pressed together, an obvious helplessness slowly building in him. Anakin could do almost anything, but what could he do against the council?
“What are you doing here?” Obi-wan blurted without thinking. It wasn’t cruel, just curious. Anakin looked startled, then flicked his eyes to Windu and back.
“They wanted to pick my brain about the disturbance in the force.” The furrows in his brow smoothed out a little bit in his confusion, and he looked boyish and young, tired under the fluorescents. It hurt him to see.
“Oh,” he said, blinking, then nodded. Anakin was more force sensitive than anyone. “That’s a good idea.”
A wisp of a smile ghosted across Anakin’s lips but Windu jumped in.
“If you don’t mind, Master Obi-wan? Tell us more about the technological developments you witnessed. It could help us determine the source of this surge.”
Fine. He would make it clinical. He would only talk about the technology, not about what it was used for. There was lots he could say without revealing anything with his words, though he worried his body language would undo that.
“They used a drug that they injected to stop me from accessing the force. We’ve seen cuffs before, but never a chemical that had that kind of effect. When I tried to use the force it simply wasn’t there. At least, I couldn’t feel it.”
“Was there any pain? A sensation of blockage, or restraint?” Ki-Adi-Mundi had always been overly interested in force related technologies.
Obi-wan shook his head, and there was a stagnant pause as everyone waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t; there was nothing he could think of right off the top of his head that wasn’t directly related to more shameful aspects of his capture.
“Any other tech we need to know about?”
Obi-wan took a breath and thought for a moment, shaping his words with care to not make them telling. “There was a type of glove, titanium or steel that acted like water. It could be deployed instantly and was incredibly strong. Any wearer could hit or restrain with a strength I have very rarely witnessed outside of force users. I believe there were only two or three sets of these gloves that were rotated between visitors. Every user seemed unfamiliar with them at first, and each became fairly skilled after a certain amount of time.”
“Each user?” Windu pressed. “According to your reports, they didn’t torture you.”
Obi-wan cleared his throat. “I suffered no prolonged torture. I was only hurt for non compliance in short bouts. Additionally, they had the most advanced medical droids I have ever come across. They didn’t want to actually damage or scar me, and often wanted me to be healed by the next day. The treatments worked better than bacta.” He tried to remember his original train of thought but it was lost. He had the vague idea that he’d said too much, logic becoming derailed by the memory of being healed only to be hurt, fixed up to be fucked again.
“Did you manage to get any information on these ‘users’? Did they question you? And why heal you after?”
Obi-wan shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “No.” Yes. “They didn’t ask me questions.” About my intel, he thought . A ringing started to build in his ears, a fog creeping into his brain.
“What was the nature of your suffering, then? You were hurt for noncompliance, but they didn’t ask you questions. What exactly were you resisting?”
“I, I don’t know, I guess they wanted something from some of the prisoners?” He licked his lips. “I resisted imprisonment.” His tongue was useless and thick. The nature of his imprisonment didn’t seem so important. How had they gotten to the part of the conversation he dreaded the most so quickly? Maybe he could derail.
“They also had these, these force fields that were pretty impressive, blocking the view completely from one side, but not the other, and these cuffs that were impressively flexible, chains that could move and weave exactly how they wanted them to and-”
“Master Kenobi, what did they want? With yourself and the other prisoners? I can’t believe they held you for two months and you have next to no intel on what their motivations were.”
“Well I didn’t!” Liar. He reworded. “I have no intel that could be useful to the order.”
“You aren’t an objective judge of that. Any details can help us, and you are too close to the situation.”
“Master Windu, this is against protocol! Can’t you see he’s uncomfortable?” Anakin’s voice snapped through the haze, and Obi-wan looked over to him, finally able to drag his eyes away from the imposing shadow Windu made over the room. Anakin’s shoulders were tight, knuckles white, ready for a fight. Obi-wan chanced a glance at the rest of the council, catching a few white faces and distant looks. They didn’t want to be part of this, but Obi-wan guessed they needed the intel. Or thought they did. They had all done horrible things in the name of peace.
He scoffed. “I have nothing to tell you. At least nothing that will help. Not really. Anakin is right. This is breaking protocol.” He wished his voice sounded more firm.
“Obi-wan,” Fisto’s voice was soft and controlled, empathetic to a fault. “You understand that 45 of our patients have died today, all involved in the same cause. All of them except for you. Knowing what their operation did, what information you were able to pick up is essential. We need to unravel exactly what the vizier was up to and why in order to determine what resources he used to make this infiltration of our defense possible.” He looked sympathetic. “This is not an attack against you. It is a necessity. For the mission. You need to share.”
Obi-wan stared at him, then through him, and the room was near silent. Nobody moved; Jedi had always been more capable than most at turning themselves into statues at a moment's notice.
Windu broke the silence. He was good at that.
“We have stripped some data from their records, obtained from before the base blew up, though it was highly corrupted. Your report of sophisticated and unheard of technologies that have been weaponized against you could suggest separatist advancement or even Sith involvement. We have reports of sex trafficking of victims, reports of which would certainly derail any sympathy for the Viziers' case. Economics aside, politicians would need to distance themselves from a controversial leader.”
So they knew. They already knew.
“I don’t know anything about that. Scandal has never stopped money from moving.” His voice was raspy, and he took a sip of his coffee. It was getting colder. He looked only at his hands.
“Some of the prisoners we were protecting were slowly discussing their experiences, including sexual exploitation, very violent in some, psychologically distressing for all. All recorded injuries were not obviously sexual in nature, and no statements were taken from any of the members, as it was not deemed appropriate. They are no longer around to give a statement.”
Obi-wan swallowed again, trying to force his gaze up. He needed to leave. He had to get out of here. “I am very sorry to hear that. I hope you find some way to get to the bottom of this. I wish I could be of more help.” He tried to jolt to his feet, feeling like his body was buried in clay.
“Sit down!” Windu snapped, and Obi-wan’s knees bent obediently at his tone, muscles going slack, slumping in his chair again.
“What happened? What did you see? Who did you meet? We need to know. The more you tell us, the better.”
Obi-wan tried to look at Anakin, who was shaking very slightly even from a distance, eyes dark and stormy, brow furrowed hard, hands trembling and rigid where they clung to the armrests of his seat. He was staring at Obi-wan, and when he met his gaze, Anakin shook his head very slightly. You don’t need to tell them.
Didn’t he? He opened his mouth to try to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again. Maybe he could manage mindless information. He didn’t need to tell them what they said, or what they did.
“There were some officers who would visit.” He swallowed. “Their names…”
For every minute you spend fighting me, I will spend that much longer making it good for you.” A shock collar, legs spread and pinned down. Cold wet, exposure and laughter. The snap of a camera. Jeering. “That’s right, spread em’. Let him have it! See he likes it I knew he would!” Mouth open wide, teeth sharp and dull at the same time. Saliva and blood, piss and semen all made one in their foulness. The stink of his body, this smallness of self, of mind, the stinging slap across his face. A warm splatter and tears in his eyes, woken up by the shifting movement of being undressed- Oran Garcov, Caliuk Cafur, Jaman Voroo, Shebu Ta-
“-bi-wan? Obi-wan, are you with us?”
He looked up. Everyone was staring at him.
“What?” He blinked for a moment. “My apologies.” Everyone was still looking at him. “I’m tired.” It was offered as an explanation, but he worried it just sounded pathetic. Everyone was tired these days.
Kcaj watched him with a slightly concerned expression, while Anakin just watched him with a devastated understanding on his face, though he tried to hide it. He’d never been good at hiding what he felt. Obi-wan was kind of glad of it now; he focused on Anakin and tried to lean on the support his unconscious empathy offered.
“I asked you the names of the people you encountered,” Windu reiterated. Obi-wan squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Yes, yes, right. Um…I just need a moment to-”
Just then, the doors to the council chamber burst open, and everyone turned to look. A curly haired man with blue skin had barged into the room. He collapsed through the doorway and caught himself with his hands on his knees, breathing hard, obviously having run all the way here. Obi-wan felt his heart lift at the sight.
“Hi, sorry I’m late I,” he took another breath. “I’m the consulting healer on,” he gasped again, “on Master Kenobi’s case. He’s currently,” another couple heaves, and Shaak Ti, who was closest to him, held out her glass of water, which Liax took gratefully and chugged. He took several deep breaths while everyone watched with different levels of incredulity.
“Thank you.” He handed the glass back to Shaak Ti and ran his hand through his hair. He collected himself, then stood tall, calm and collected now, if a bit flushed. He tucked his hands behind his back.
“My apologies for my tardiness.” He was still breathing a little heavily through his nose. “I was informed very last minute that my patient,” here his voice became sharp, “was being interrogated by the Jedi council while he is under protocol 4DA-12. I came here as fast as I could to remedy any misunderstanding that could be taking place. Is there a misunderstanding?”
Obi-wan could have hugged him. Liax was here and was going to get him out. Here was one more person on his team in this room, with the potential legal power to get him out of it.
Kcaj replied, though Liax had addressed Windu. “The misunderstanding is your own, Healer. This is not a formal meeting, nor is it required work for Master Kenobi. He is free to leave when he wants to.”
Obi-wan looked back to Liax, suddenly unsure.
“That’s correct.” Liax said genially. “He is free to leave whenever he wants to.” Liax turned to Obi-wan. “Obi-wan, do you want to leave?”
Obi-wan’s jaw worked around the words for a moment too long.
“He is needed here. Master Kenobi knows his duty, and I know he wants to be useful in any way he can. We need his intel, and he knows that. This council must continue to question him for more evidence that can be used against the Vizier.” Windu was implacable as always.
Liax studied Windu for a moment. “Master Windu, with all due respect, I am speaking to my patient, not you.”
Liax looked back to Obi-wan, dismissing Windu as a factor entirely. “Do you want to leave?” Windu rankled slightly, but Obi-wan didn’t care. He wouldn’t be able to share any information. It was buried in pain that he couldn’t excavate here.
“I-,” he glanced at Windu, then at Anakin, who was watching him carefully. He nodded slightly in encouragement. It’s okay.
“Yes, I want to leave.” He started to stand, and Windu stood up abruptly, striding forwards. Obi-wan flinched backwards despite himself, responding to Windu’s anger and aggression, rather than his person, but Windu wasn’t looking at him.
“Healer Liax, you have no jurisdiction here. These are matters out of your control. I will throw you out. Obi-wan will do this for us,” Windu fixed Obi-wan with a firm look that rooted his feet in place, “and we will all be better for it. He is a soldier, and soldiers follow orders, even if they don’t want to.” Now he looked at Obi-wan. “We need you to stay.”
That was that. Obi-wan felt his shoulders droop slightly, and sat back in his seat again, but Liax was already stepping forwards.
“The Jedi have been under the microscope for a long time, Master Windu. People are concerned with the ethics of this war. Specifically, your ethics. There are a number of inquiries into the wellbeing of your Jedi and the way they have been used. Policy 4DA-12 is a new addition which can lead to dire consequences within the order. I’m talking surveillance, I’m talking checkups, I’m talking so many safety audits and psychological evals that even your enemies will be drowning in paperwork, do you understand? Is that what you want for your order in this endless war? More scrutiny? The head of the healing committee has ties with the pacifists in the senate who care about the people in this war, not the result. I could put you in touch, if you like. They have wanted you to step down for a long time.”
Obi-wan stared at Liax, not quite understanding how this young man could weather the full disapproval of a High council member, especially Windu, nor where he had received the intel. Perhaps he was bluffing? He glanced at the other members of the chamber, all who were looking between Windu and Liax. Anakin was looking at Liax with grudging admiration, tension not quite dissipated yet.
Finally, Obi-wan found the courage to look at Windu, who watched him back. He sighed through his nose and shook his head.
“Shame on you Obi-wan. I thought you were better than this.”
The words went into his ears and down to his bones, any hope he’d had of leaving with his dignity intact quickly evaporating.
Obi wan’s voice was rough when he spoke. “Can’t you just trust me when I tell you that nothing I experienced will help you much? I can talk to you, give you what you need to know. I’m not healthy enough to help.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Obi-wan glanced at Yoda, surprised he’d stayed out of the conversation this entire time. Yoda seemed deep in thought. He always did. Deep in thought and out of touch. A brilliant leadership technique, he thought bitterly.
Liax spoke again. “Obi-wan, you do want to leave, yes?”
Obi-wan looked to Liax, then to Windu. He didn’t need to tell these people what had happened to him. They didn’t have the right to pour his shame out of him and pick through it. They didn’t have the right to pull him back into the mess he’d escaped, no matter how much they thought he could help. Hadn’t his years on the council lended him any credibility at all? He deserved to heal; this wasn’t that.
“Give me some time Master Windu. I will write a report with more detail for you. I am… I am unwell.”
Liax waved him over, and Obi-wan stood up and walked to his side. Their gazes crossed, and Liax gave him a half smile, placing a hand on his shoulder as they walked out, and it seemed to steady his sinking heart. Liax peered back as they stepped outside.
“Don’t break protocol again. This place is pretty far from the hall of healing, and I’m not a runner. ”
Chapter 12
Notes:
Very descriptive sexual assault described here. Includes nonconsenual oral play and other acts, please take care of yourself and heed the warnings!
Thanks for reading everyone :))
Chapter Text
Obi-wan’s legs felt weak and trembling as the double doors boomed shut behind him. Liax’s hand on his shoulder felt like it was the only thing keeping him standing.
“Let’s go somewhere else, okay?” Liax was watching him carefully. Obi-wan nodded, not trusting himself to speak quite yet. He felt some awareness come back to him, and realized the halls were starting to fill with the early risers of the day- it was common to see people just starting out at this hour, yawning and stretching, the temple waking up to its morning’s training.
He’d have liked to go back to when he was a part of it.
Liax squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “How do you feel about going to one of the therapy rooms?”
Obi-wan looked past Liax to the long hallways curving around them, then imagined the room, welcoming as was, but not what he needed. “I’d rather not.”
“That’s not a problem. I want to bring you somewhere you feel safe, because right now I can see that you don’t.”
Obi-wan shuffled his feet a little bit, and looked down at his body. His shoulders were tense, his heart racing. He chewed on the inside of his cheek.
“They already know. They already know everything.”
“Shhh, shhhh.” Liax led them over to a small alcove where Obi-wan could see the city stretched out below, and took a seat on the little bench, gesturing for Obi-wan to do the same.
“Take a deep breath, in and out.”
He did.
“Look at me, follow what I’m doing.”
He did.
“And again.”
And again, and again, and again. Some minutes passed, and Obi-wan watched some of the traffic drift by far below. There was always a traffic jam in Coruscant.
Once he felt a little calmer, Obi-wan had the wherewithal to look around to see if anyone was bearing witness to this.
“Nobody can see us right now, that’s why we chose the alcove.”
He was right. The space was secluded, but the window made it feel like he wasn’t trapped. It was private enough to recollect.
“I want to go back to my rooms.”
Liax nodded. “We can call a friend to meet you there, or-”
“No. No, I don’t want to see anyone else.” His throat clicked as he swallowed and considered going back to his rooms alone.
“Can you come with me? I don’t know if that’s allowed, or unprofessional, but I give my consent.”
Liax tilted his head, considering, then nodded. “Our own homes should feel like the safest spaces to us. Thank you for asking me to join you. It can be hard to let others in.”
Obi-wan nodded and averted his eyes, uncomfortable, still feeling weak on the bench and pathetic for needing reassurance. Liax stood up and Obi-wan snapped his head up to watch him. Liax only smiled at him encouragingly and took another step away, making a show of peering down the left hall, and then turning towards the right and craning his neck. He turned back to Obi-wan. “You may be famous, but I don’t know where you live.” His voice was teasing. “You’ll still have to lead the way.”
………………………………………
Enarc, Charlie Batallion.
Cellblock 6742:P6, unit 24.
75 days ago, Day 2
The medical droid had healed his wounds quickly. Thus, outside of the violation of seeing his insides on his outsides and the ache of being separated from the force, Obi-wan was actually doing quite alright the next morning. Well, morning according to his sleep schedule and the lack of light.
No one came in and the hours of wakefulness passed slowly. This was standard. Caliuk was a singular captor in terms of poise, but so far, aside from his introduction to new and sadistic technology, it was textbook. Mostly.
Caliuk didn’t have the impatience of a sith, but Obi-wan had been held for several days without clarity or questioning simply to “soften his resolve” or “make him desperate.” Now, without the chilling stare of that icy man, Obi-wan scolded himself for his initial lack of poise. Despite his initial disorientation, the regular pattern would soon reestablish itself. He could find comfort in routine, regardless of how fucked up that routine was.
The medical droid did a good job, a fantastic job, really. Obi-wan could see very little in the dim red light that illuminated his cell, but he could see that under the bruising that was fading fast, a thin scar lay that would be with him for life. The scar looked old already. Healing couldn’t be perfect, but this was far better than they had access to even at the temple. It was troubling that an enemy could hold such an asset without any of the Jedi having a clue, but he put it out of his mind, recognizing the futility of trying to solve it here.
He’d slept surprisingly well on his cold mat in the corner. The chains had allowed enough flexibility for him to sleep fine if lay on his side with his hands in front of him towards the wall where the chains were locked. The mix of exhaustion and relief from the pain had allowed him to sleep dreamlessly and long.
He’d awoken naturally, the only noises being his own breathing and the steady hum of the red energy field. He checked his side as much as he could with his hands still chained in front of him, and listened to the increasingly loud growling in his stomach. He swallowed convulsively, the pain of thirst slowly aggravating him to the point of distraction.
The day wore on. He contemplated his environment, his circumstances, and the original purpose of his mission, considering his options.
He could still gain intel. While trapped on this planet, there was much he could glean from snippets of conversation in the hallways. Someone would be here eventually. With the right conversation points, the right amount of prodding or prying, he could perhaps still get the information he needed and get out. This wasn’t necessarily a rescue mission yet, but rather an intelligence and extraction mission, run by one. He would have to talk more with his captors in order to get a better understanding of their dispositions and circumstances if he wanted to leverage his own questioning tactics, subtle though they would be. There were no obvious weaknesses to exploit or routes of potential escape. There was nothing to do but wait for more information and rest his mind and body as much as possible.
Obi-wan didn’t have enough room to stand, unless he hunched over and kept his hands close to the ground, but he did so anyway. It felt nice to stretch out his hips with a sumo squat, to rotate his shoulders, stretch his back and his neck. The pain was gone and just the memory of it lingered. His periodic movement felt good, and every time he started to feel restless or impatient, he meditated.
It wasn’t the same as when he meditated in the force. He felt its absence very sharply, but the familiar crosslegged position and the careful, measured breaths were still calming and grounding. Most of that day was resting, gentle movements, and meditation.
It was enough to drown out the thirst and the hunger, and it almost drowned out the memory of those photos.
He sat now, facing the wall, the hum of the forcefield his only company, brow furrowed, turning over the experience in his head again.
It had been peculiar, and discomfiting. Dehumanizing yet highly intentional. It disturbed him that he couldn’t pinpoint the intentions. And Caliuk’s gaze had been predatory, perusing him, unclothing him, relishing his pain. Why had they taken his shirt off? He was still shirtless now, the cold slowly getting worse as the day dragged on, hunger slowly swallowing his heat.
He opened his eyes and stared at the chains around his wrists, blinking heavily. It was hard to tell, but it felt like the end of the day, and he swallowed again and rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His suffering would be quite severe by tomorrow if he didn’t get something to drink.
He uncoiled his body, preparing to lie down when the shik of the force field opening had him clambering to his feet to face the noise.
A torguta man stepped into his room, flipping through a stack of papers. The shield hummed into place behind him again, slowly going from the dim red to a brighter white-blue.
He was tall and handsome, with a strong brow, defined chin, and light green skin. He had strong, symmetrical montrals, with a handsome spiralling design that only added to the cut of his jaw and the fullness of his lips. He looked reliable. Like a family man.
He squinted at one of the papers in his hands, then glanced up at Obi-wan with a sceptical look on his face. He looked down at the paper, then back at Obi-wan, and nodded.
“You look good person!” His voice was loud in the small room. Obi-wan didn’t say anything.
He smiled and tucked the papers into a pocket in his jacket, then shrugged it off. He looked around for a place to hang it, then sighed and spanned the room in a few steps to the same wall the chains were on, still out of Obi-wan’s reach. He was taller than Obi-wan.
He tapped the wall just in front of him and a small compartment opened, a gleaming knob coming out on a piece of material that looked just like the wall, filling the gap. Obi-wan stared at it incredulously. It was incredible workmanship. There were no seams whatsoever; he never would have guessed there was any way these walls could open, as solid as they were.
The torguta hung his jacket on the knob and clicked his tongue. “That should have been set up before I got here. Hard to get good service anywhere, huh?” He looked over at Obi-wan, who didn’t say anything, only watched him, arms calmly by his sides. It was only when Obi-wan consciously relaxed his shoulders that he realized the chains had gone with him. He narrowed his eyes at his delayed reaction, then jolted towards the Torguta.
The man didn’t move, but a shock zipped through him, paralyzing him as it woke his nerves, so he fell without a sound. It was quick, less than a second, and the pain was gone. So obviously nothing had changed in that regard.
He lay on his side, the man standing to the far left of his peripheral. He closed his mouth quickly to ensure he didn’t lose any more water.
He slowly sat up. He wanted to avoid provoking this man if possible. Pain wouldn’t help him escape, or think. He needed to ration his suffering for the important moments, or his mission would become more difficult the more ragged he became. Though testing the limits of his captivity was an important use for his suffering.
The man crouched down , squatting on his heels so he loomed above Obi-wan, who sat against the wall, face as expressionless as he could make it. He raised his head carefully and calmly met his gaze. His eyes sparkled a dark brown, filled with life, energy, and something pointed.
The torguta smiled. “I’m Oran.” He held out a hand to Obi-wan, his expression clear and genuine, his closed lip smile nothing out of the ordinary. Obi-wan, not seeing another reasonable option, took his hand and Oran pulled him to his feet.
The shock had been more disorienting than he’d thought, and Obi-wan stumbled a bit. He let his momentum carry further than it needed to, and Oran automatically reached to brace him with a hand on his shoulder as Obi-wan fell towards him. Obi-wan glanced down to watch his wrists; his chains went with him this time, though he didn’t know if it was because Oran was touching him, or because he hadn’t meant to fall. He reached up to yank the hand Oran was just starting to place on his shoulder to pull him off balance and slam him into the wall, but that same electricity ripped through him and he fell to the ground again.
It was paralyzing, locking his muscles in place aside from some harsh spasms of his extremities that caused his collapse. It lasted long enough this time for drool to come out of the corner of his mouth where he lay before it snapped off again.
His body was shaky now as he pushed himself up to sit against the wall again. He didn’t make a sound. It was cold against his skin, and he could feel fresh sweat prickling on his hairline and under his arms. He didn’t make a sound, his expression still stone.
Outright combat wouldn’t work, but other opportunities would present themselves.
Oran watched him shift against the wall and resume stillness with a quirked brow. Then he grinned, a boyish smile that surprised Obi-wan with its innocence. Oran was the same age as him, maybe a little younger, but he was appealing, and almost kind looking.
He clicked his tongue, this time not bothering to crouch down.
“Obi-wan! Jeez, I don’t want you to suffer any brain damage. At least not before my turn is over.” So Caliuk wasn’t working in isolation. His name was out. Obi-wan wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Perhaps if his men were poorly trained then word would spread. There was no better place to spread a secret than the work place.
He held out a hand again, and Obi-wan stared at it, then took it again. He needed to figure out a way to disable the chains before he could fight back in an effective manner. Perhaps if he’d had the force….
Their fingers hadn’t yet touched when the electricity whipped through him again, quick as a gunshot and over even quicker, his body just flinching minutely backwards in disorientation.
Oran laughed, a hearty full laugh, and pushed Obi-wan’s sweaty hair off his forehead, Obi-wan too disoriented to register the touch before it was gone.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I suppose I could do that all day, but I’m done now for real.” He held out a hand again. “Stand up now, come on.”
Obi-wan took a quick breath, then another, one for patience, one for peace, and took hold of his hand. He was tugged to his feet, and this time he stood steadily and let his hand fall. They stood close, a couple hand spans apart, and Obi-wan was forced to tilt his chin up to meet his eyes, which he did, face neutral, body language relaxed and in control. He chose to break his silence.
“How can I help you today, Oran?” His voice was polite, barely sarcastic, but Oran looked delighted.
“Ah! There’s that exquisite customer service that Caliuk promised!” Oran reached out and Obi-wan leaned away from his hands, then felt a ghost of a shock whistle over his skin as fast as a blink. It didn’t floor him, but it was a hot pain. He squinted. There hadn’t been any movement, no indication from Oran that he had triggered a button, pressed anything, no sound, no shift of the chains, only the buzz in his mind ricocheting down his nerves.
Oran looked at him with pity, then cupped his face as he’d originally intended. “I knew it would be a bit of an adjustment for you, famed Jedi leader and all,” he traced Obi-wan’s cheekbones, then pushed his fingers into his hair, “but I hope for your own sake you figure it out soon.”
He stepped closer so they were breathing the same air, and Obi-wan let him fiddle with his hair a little bit more. Oran seemed distracted and watched what his hands were doing, rather than at his face, and Obi-wan watched his expression with increasing disturbance.
Oran was flushed, pupils blown, and his gaze met Obi-wan’s as his hands drifted to the sides of his neck, fingers curling around his nape.
“I’m something of a fan of yours,” he said with obvious enthusiasm, eyes flicking over Obi-wan’s features in disbelief. His hands trailed off his neck and started to tickle along his collarbones, slowly moving down his chest to pet the hair coiled there. Obi-wan tried to move back, but that whisper of scalding pain froze him in place again. Oran wouldn’t have noticed, but his shoulder jerked involuntarily.
Oran looked into his eyes again, tearing away from where his thumb was slowly stroking down towards his nipple. “I shouldn’t have been a fan, you know, but the coverage of your battles was amazing! The clips were so cool and the propaganda sent out from the temple?” Oran grasped his hips and squeezed them tight, nails digging in. “Whew! You were so damn hot! I swear they do it on purpose. I almost joined your cause, I really did.” He winked.
Dread was building deep in Obi-wan’s gut, and he wrestled with a distant understanding he wasn’t quite ready to swallow.
“You can still join the cause.” He tried to make his voice light, but it was rough from pain and thirst.
“Bah.” Oran waved a hand. “I got what I wanted. I wouldn’t have really joined, it wouldn’t have been beneficial. I own a number of,” he cut himself off with a chuckle. “But I shouldn’t tell you that! Let’s get down to it. You know what I want.”
Obi-wan made his face still. “I don’t have any information for you.”
Oran looked at him almost tenderly. “I know how smart you are, Obi-wan. Or should I say Master Kenobi?” He considered it for a moment and dismissed the idea. “Don’t play dumb with me, okay? If you’re honest with me then I can be honest with you.” His fingers traced ticklish circles on his hip bones.
It was hard to get a read on this man. Did he want charming? Clever? Defiant? Fighting wasn’t working, so he would try reasonable negotiation next.
He cleared his throat and tried for consoling. “I guess you have a… well I suppose you’ve been infatuated with me and you’ve arranged with Caliuk for a meet and greet?”
Oran spread his fingers on Obi-wan’s stomach, which was kind of sticky with sweat. He simpered at him, squeezing again for emphasis. It was an excruciating effort not to bat his hands away. “A meet and greet?”
“Perhaps a little more intimate than usual, but a meet and greet all the same.” His voice was firm, cool, and collected.
Oran looked past him, a little dreamily. “Intimate,” he mused, “I like that.” All the alarm bells were going off now.
“Oran, let’s just talk for a moment about-” he flexed his arms to push Oran away when the pain tripped him forwards again, and he spasmed as Oran caught him and tucked his face into his neck as he spasmed, hushing and cooing in his ear. The pain was all consuming, making it impossible to do anything but feel it.
It lasted longer this time, long enough for Oran to rub his face on Obi-wan’s neck and tuck him close into his chest. The electricity stopped, but Obi-wan stayed where he was, body limp and disengaged. Was he truly out of agency so completely? Every avenue of escape was quickly disappearing. How far would Oran go?
Obi-wan jerked back as Oran licked up his neck, from collarbone to earlobe, hot and wet. His recoil was halted as the shock froze him again, but Oran hadn’t even noticed his instinctual, accidental retreat.
Oran could do anything to him, he realized, anything, unless he talked him out of it. Which he had to do.
It was still possible. Obi-wan was clever, silver tongued, experienced in negotiation and combat alike. Oran was malleable, and seemed human enough. He was infatuated with Obi-wan, and therefore Obi-wan held some kind of power over him, which he could attempt to use to his advantage.
He kept his voice quiet and calm, not shifting away from Oran as he nuzzled close. “Oran, you know me very well, but I know very little of you. We should get better acquainted before,” his voice jolted, and he forcibly held himself very still as Oran thumbed along the waistband at the small of his back, “before.”
“That’s okay, Obi-wan, I’m on a time limit, so you can get to know me as we go!” He pulled away just enough to make eye contact, then leaned in close. It was only at the last moment that Obi-wan realized he meant to kiss him. His eyes widened in shock, and Obi-wan managed to slightly tilt his head away, though his skull tremored in place for a couple of seconds. Oran pulled back, frustration crossing his face for the first time. “I paid for you, Obi-wan, so it’s only fair.”
Oran leaned in again- “You know me very well!” Obi-wan blurted, almost desperately, hoping he’d read the trashy tabloids Anakin and himself had made fun of so many times. “You probably know what I like to eat, you know where I’m from,”
“Stewjoni!” Oran said, pleased with himself.
“And know of many aspects of the Jedi order.” Despite being a separatist, and a psycho. “So you must know that relations outside of the order are forbidden.”
“I know!” Oran said brightly, undeterred. “It’s okay, we’re not in the order anymore. No one will know.”
His fingers started to slip underneath Obi-wan’s waist band, digits pressing into the meat at the top of his glutes. Obi-wan started to panic, working hard not to pull back. He needed to be convincing and reasonable; not a frightened rabbit. This situation was escalating at a horrifying speed, like a train crash starting in slow motion, then quickly going faster and faster. There was very little to fight with.
He placed his hands on Oran’s chest gently and the chains let him. Obi-wan took note of that. He pushed back slightly to look into his face. “Let’s take it slowly, it’s better that way.” Maybe he could waste time. He had no idea how long Oran had paid for, but maybe it would run out. He tried to smile but it must have come across as disingenuous.
Oran scowled at him, frustration showing through again. “I know when you’re playing a part. I know when you’re trying to manipulate me. I may be star struck but I’m smart. When I’ve lost a fight I know it. You should know it too. I can make it good for you.”
Obi-wan bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reacting.
“This is going to happen, and I can make you enjoy it.” Oran’s face was solid. There was no arguing with him.
Obi-wan made his voice cold. It was easy. Despite their proximity, everything was frozen.
“I’ll get out of here and they’ll find you. You’ll be arrested.”
Oran’s frustration melted away, the corner of his mouth lifting. He stroked Obi-wan’s cheek and his eye twitched. It was maddening trying to keep himself still, but his mind got fuzzier with every shock. He didn’t know what kind of damage it was doing. And it was painful.
He would have to ration his resistance to the touches and actions he found most despicable. He quickly started ordering them in his head, plotting a painful course of what he estimated his near future to be. What could he hold himself still for to make up for the instinctual fight that would surely kick in with further violation?
He would evaluate tomorrow the damage that the shocks dealt him, come up with a baseline test, cognitive and physical, to track any damages. He could evaluate his mental state to gauge just how much he could take of either the pain or the… other stuff. If there was going to be other stuff. Though it seemed like it was going to happen unless he could talk himself out of it.
He refocused on Oran’s face and found him watching him with fascination, staring into his eyes.
“You know,” he said, almost conversationally, “it was your mind I fell in love with to begin with. It was just an extra bonus that you’re so,” he dragged his gaze down Obi-wan’s torso, “handsome. You are so good at everything, it stands to reason you’d be good at this too, anything you try really.” He placed a thumb on Obi-wan’s bottom lip, then slowly pressed inwards. Obi-wan clenched his jaw shut, so Oran’s thumb met the rigid line of his teeth.
“Come on, open up.”
He felt no electric zap for one, two, three, four seconds, and then he jerked, this one sharp and a little more intense than the last. He still didn’t unclench his teeth. Oran squeezed the sides of his jaw and Obi-wan was hit with another shock. Oran forced his mouth open as Obi-wan trembled in place and pressed finger against his tongue before Obi-wan had stopped shaking. His hand was salty, his light green skin darkening in a blush, still just standing fully clothed, petting Obi-wan’s tongue.
Obi-wan started to bite down but was once again indisposed. Oran only looked disappointed, sliding two fingers along the inside of Obi-wan’s cheek. “Fighting won’t help you. There’s nothing you can do. You should accept it.”
Obi-wan felt spit pooling and choked as Oran cupped the back of his neck with one hand and triggered his gag reflex with the other. He loomed over Obi-wan, who was tilted upwards, eyes watering, throat clicking.
Oran lifted the hand from his neck and grasped his chin, tilting his head upwards. His face filled Obi-wan’s field of vision, and Obi-wan couldn’t help but meet it, horrified by the obvious lust he saw there.
This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen, he was a jedi! He had never been this powerless in his life.
Oran must’ve seen the fear in his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
He pushed his fingers down again, and Obi-wan choked on them, tongue curling around the digits, stomach roiling to push him out.
Oran pulled them out and wiped them down his face. Obi-wan closed his eyes and tried not to lurch away. Was this worse than the pain yet?
“Don’t want you to puke.” He rubbed his hands over Obi-wan’s face and through his hair, spreading spittle there too, then pushed down on his shoulders until Obi-wan sat on his heels on the ground. Maybe they were done?
“Stay there.”
Obi-wan did, eyes watering, breaths still heavy from lack of oxygen, warily tracking Oran back to the hook. He unbuttoned his shirt, and Obi-wan looked away from him to close his eyes. He heard the rustling of a belt and the clang of the buckle being hung up on the hook.
What else could he possibly do to avoid this? Nothing presented itself.
Oran’s footsteps came to stand in front of him again, but he made no move to get down to Obi-wan’s level.
“Sexual assault,” his voice was sandpaper, “is a despicable crime.” His eyes were still closed.
Oran didn’t seem to hear him. “We’ll go step by step, don’t worry. Today is just for me, but we’ll get to you eventually.” Obi-wan opened his eyes. His head was level with Oran’s waist, and Oran deftly started to undo the buttons and zipper there. He watched as the silver buttons came free of the fabric, the situation as unchangeable as a tide. The dread and fear abandoned him, and he felt distant and dead as he licked his lips. He was still so thirsty.
“I’ll bite you.”
“I won’t let you.”
There was a zip, and Obi-wan could see the black briefs he was wearing, then skin beneath as he pulled them down, just enough to get his dick out, tucking the waist below his balls. He was average sized, and he tilted slightly to the right. Obi-wan was more concerned about how hard he was and the purple, weeping tip.
Oran wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and gave it a stroke, sighing. “See what you do to me?” He brought the tip down so it was lined up with Obi-wan’s mouth.
“Suck me off.”
A pause.
“No.”
“Do it, Obi-wan. Don’t make me hurt you more. I’m a fan, remember?”
“I’ve never-”
“Oh give me a break, you can figure it out.”
Obi-wan stared at his cock, at his balls, well groomed and clean, then looked up into his face. Oran was watching him, lust and ecstasy mixed with impatience, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, nose scrunched in concentration.
Obi-wan put on his most ruthless face, the one that he’d given the cruelest of sith he’d slaughtered as they’d died, the pained, contemptuous, furious snarl he saved for only the people he thought unsalvageable.
“You’re a fucking rapist,” he hissed.
Oran didn’t seem moved. He didn’t change expression. He didn’t seem to register the words at all. Instead his jaw went slightly slack, his hand started stroking himself slowly though he didn’t seem to notice as he watched Obi-wan’s face. “Fuck I can’t believe you’re here, kneeling in front of me, half fucking naked.” He looked down at where he was touching himself for a moment like he couldn’t believe it was happening. That made two of them. He looked back to Obi-wan and registered the distress on his face.
“Shhhhh…. It’s ok Obi-wan it’s okay, just open up-” he tried to cradle Obi-wan’s jaw, but Obi-wan snarled and tried to bite his hand, shifting his legs to get on his feet. The jolt that followed was the most painful one so far, but Obi-wan could still see Oran’s face through all of it.
His eyes were watering with the pain but he still managed to stay on his knees, hands politely in his lap still. His didn’t notice that his mouth had fallen open like a silent scream, adn Oran took advantage. He tugged his cheek to stretch the hole his mouth made, and Obi-wan didn’t resist it. Couldn’t.
“This is okay too, this is okay, yeah you’re so,” he huffed and pushed Obi-wan’s head back roughly, forcing him to scramble backwards until he was sitting with his toes touching the wall, still on his knees, arched backwards with the bulk of Oran’s body hunched over him. Oran was bracing himself with a forearm above his head as he worked himself furiously in front of Obi-wan’s face. His hand was making schlick schlick sounds as he jerked off, hand brushing the tip of Obi-wan’s nose every now and then. Obi-wan could smell the sharp musky scent of his arousal, feel the tug of his hand in his hair as he kept Obi-wan’s head tilted back so he could see. Obi-wan tried to close his mouth, but was zapped again, paralysis keeping his jaw locked.
There was nowhere to go.
Oran was getting more vocal, grunts and moans falling from his mouth, nonsensical ramblings and praise following.
“You’re so fucking, this is why I love you, goddamn handsome, I always knew that tongue would be pink and,”
Oran moaned and slapped his dick against Obi-wan’s cheek once, twice, then the other once, twice. It made a horrible wet thunk sound, and the precum was sticky and hot against him. It cooled into twin wet spots quickly and Obi-wan tried to get his hands up to fight, mind white hot and empty of reason.
He was shocked again, then again, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, arms tensing and fists closing uselessly, fruitlessly, eyes leaking with the pain. He tried to bite, and Oran huffed a breathless laugh.
“You’re pretty when you cry.” Obi-wan squinted his eyes open, but all he could see was Oran’s cock.
“St-st-stick your tongue out.”
There was nothing he could do. He was useless. What else was there to do?
Zap, Zap, Zap -- which was worse?
Zap, Zap, Zap, then he opened his eyes, schlick schlick schlick. It seemed to go on forever. Eons of masturbatory, inescapable perversion, his resolve weakening all the time.
He’d resisted torture worse than this for longer. But this didn’t make him feel human enough to resist. What was there now to hold on to? There was no information to protect.
He was already here, zap what else was there to do?
“Do it, Obi-wan.”
His mouth was already open, it would happen regardless.
Zap.
Fingers in his mouth, a wet thunk on his face. The stink of sweat and precum.
“Do it!”
He stuck his tongue out, mouth gaping, as far as he could. As far as he could.
Oran moaned and came on his face, on his tongue, hot jets of semen bursting straight into his throat, over his cheeks, over his eyelids. It was unexpectedly strong, hot, and thick. It lasted forever, Oran moaning and shuddering and whimpering above him, fist clenched in Obi-wan’s hair, Obi-wan’s back arched painfully, eyes squeezed shut, tongue outstretched, mouth open wide, cum starting to mix with the spit in his mouth. He desperately tried not to throw up. That would make all this worse.
Oran sighed and released his hold, then combed his fingers through Obi-wan’s hair, reverentling touching the semen on his face. Obi-wan relaxed his jaw slightly, starting to open his eyes again. He didn’t want to bring his tongue into his mouth, but spitting would cause more, more, more hurt. Was there more pain than this? This was a kind of pain.
“God. You’re so fucking pretty, Obi-wan.”
Oran was flushed and looked satisfied when Obi-wan got the courage to look up, his deep brown eyes still handsome. He smiled at Obi-wan and stood up straight from where he’d been leaning on the wall.
“Fuck.” Obi-wan had no choice, and drew his tongue back so he could purse his lips to spit, but Oran caught his jaw. “Just a second,” he said breathily, “stay still.” He did.
Obi-wan wasn’t really thinking about anything as Oran wiped the head of his half hard dick through the cum on his face, dragging it over one cheek, then the other with more pressure, the visual obviously getting him excited. It was sticky and drying, and it couldn’t have felt good as it caught and dragged on his sensitive skin, but Oran didn’t seem to mind.
Obi-wan closed his eyes, but ripped them open and flinched back, zap, as the blunt head met his tongue.
“Just suck a little of it off.”
He pulled away. Zap.
He closed his eyes again and slowly sealed his mouth around the smooth tip. He didn’t move.
“I said suck.”
He felt torn open and gaping, but he managed to get a little suction. The sound of it was disgusting and sloppy. Everything felt fuzzy and dizzy and he was limp as a rag. Oran didn’t seem to mind and he didn’t push in, just kept the mushroom tip inside.
Time was elastic, stretched out and never ending, then snapping back into focus when Oran took his softened dick out of his mouth and ran his semen covered fingers through Obi-wan’s hair. His face felt crusty and plastered in place, the smell overwhelming. Oran released him, and Obi-wan slumped, taking his feet out from under him, moving from a kneeling position to sitting against the wall with his legs flopped in front of him. He let his head sag to the side, knowing he was the picture of defeat, unable to think beyond the phantom pain in his nerves and the satiated release that put a spring in Oran’s step and a glow in his fac, the stickiness on his face.
His eyes were still closed, so he heard rather than saw Oran zip up, walk to the hook, put on his belt and his coat. Then he heard Oran come back, and crouch in front of him.
Obi-wan opened his eyes. Oran was smiling at him, clearly enamoured, and Obi-wan could barely stand the intensity, eyes boring into his own.
“You’re spectacular, Obi-wan. Truly spectacular. I always knew you would be.” He leaned close, still holding eye contact, the moment stretching long into uncomfortability as they simply stared at each other, Obi-wan’s eyes red rimmed, Oran’s pupils dark and endless. It was a long moment where Obi-wan held his breath to avoid breathing Oran’s air, both scanning; Obi-wan for information, Oran for love. Or submission. Obi-wan didn’t find anything there, but Oran thought he did, because he nodded, contented. He gently stroked his chin and the beard there, then scrunched his nose in slight distaste as he found semen in it.
“It’s kind of gross when it’s dry, isn’t it?” He stood up and glanced around the room, eyes landing on the small sink. His form was large and foreboding, his montrals making him look more powerful than he was. “I’ll make sure they let you wash up.” He walked over himself to wash his hands, then stopped. “And give you some soap.”
He turned back to Obi-wan, who dropped his gaze to look at his hands. There was no damage from fighting the chains, though he thought there should be. How was it possible that there was a technology catered to Oran’s every whim? It read his intentions, it figured out when he was, when he was…… he lost his train of thought.
Obi-wan couldn’t think and instead felt a yawning pit start to open up in the back of his mind. It was a new blackness, a new cave, new ink, a new shame to coat his synapses with. It had gravity, this pit, sucking at the light in his skull and reorienting his thoughts to orbit it.
Oran sighed and Obi-wan flinched, having forgotten he was there, snapping his eyes up to meet Oran’s.
Oran looked at him with pity. “You’ll get used to it, don’t worry. It’ll be okay.” He tried to give Obi-wan an encouraging smile, but Obi-wan didn’t respond. “Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t worry, you’ll like it. Promise.”
Tomorrow.
……………………………………….
The kettle got hot too quickly. Sometimes when he watched the water he pretended he was swimming in it. Scalding and hot, boiled alive, the only way to really be completely clean. It wasn’t good to get lost in thought these days.
Liax shuffled around in the kitchen, looking for mugs and tea, and Obi-wan was glad for the noise, another breath in the room, someone who cared. The sun would rise soon, and the lightening sky was a hopeful blue outside the window. Obi-wan was glad he’d drawn the curtains the night before so they hadn’t walked into a dark, disheveled apartment. Now they could walk into a dim, disheveled apartment.
Perhaps he was being too critical. He took another look at the place as Liax bustled about the kitchen. His plants were recovering from his hiatus- turned out Anakin had been watering them; they’d just been wilty after his own mission. The morning rays were just starting to illuminate the jagged edges of leaves and vines that spilled over his shelf by the window. His bookshelf was dusty, but the tomes were diverse, and lovely to look at, well thumbed and cared for. Sure, none of his blankets were folded, but they were colorful and lit up his living room. There were a couple dirty cups on his table, but they were blue and he liked them. The morning light looked nice on their edges.
It was good enough.
He cleared his throat and turned back to his task. “I have information I could give them about the tech they used.” He didn’t turn to face Liax, still watching the water in the kettle start to simmer, tiny little bubbles rushing to the top like they were desperate to breathe. Liax stopped moving about, and Obi-wan felt his attention land on him.
“I, I can’t tell them how I know because the ways they used the tech were,” he worked to find the word. “Humiliating.”
Liax hummed in acknowledgement, then turned back to the cabinet to keep rustling through the mugs and the teas, to find the one Obi-wan wanted.
Obi-wan turned his head to peer behind him. Liax wasn’t looking at him and was instead looking through the labels in his collection, his back turned.
“They sort of already know some of it. Maybe.” Obi-wan’s voice was thin and papery.
“Do they?” Obi-wan watched Liax select a ginger tea for him and a sweet tea for Obi-wan. He started rustling through mugs again.
“You can’t control what they do and do not know. They have suspicions but no facts. You are entirely in control of how your story moves forward. Despite Windu’s surety, he has no legal basis to force candidness from you in these circumstances. Anything you do or say about your experience is under your control.”
Obi-wan turned to face him completely. “They need the information! You heard them, I’m the only one who can give them that information!”
Liax pivoted to meet his eyes. He looked unconcerned and cool as a cucumber. Was he not taking this seriously?
“You can give them the information you need in a controlled environment, under your own terms, if you decide that is something you’re comfortable with. A written statement will suffice, and there is no need to give them a full narrative. There is no proof, so as long as the necessary information is given, you do not need to make any of this public.”
“But even today you saw-”
“Do you have a favourite?”
“What?”
Liax held up two mugs, one a pale yellow with a white flower on it, the other a garish striped thing, painted by Anakin as a child.
Obi-wan narrowed his eyes in annoyance and pointed at the ugly mug. “That one.”
Liax nodded. “Should’ve known. You’re very sentimental.”
Obi-wan spluttered. Yeah, he could be occasionally sentimental, but any wisp of attachment was something that he hid from the Jedi, and surely couldn’t have been gleaned from the week of interaction him and Liax had.
“I’m not, I’ve never said anything to make you think that.”
Liax shrugged like it didn’t matter either way. “It’s just in the way you talk about your loved ones, it’s easy to tell. You talk about them because they’re a big part of your life.” He placed the tea bags into the mugs. “People flock to other people who care. The people who surround you care deeply about you, Obi-wan.”
Obi-wan didn’t respond. He wasn’t supposed to love , really. At least not with attachment. It was something he’d struggled with in the past. He was a bit curious to know what Liax’s stance on that would be, but decided against questioning it.
Really, he was kind of annoyed. His sentimentality was not a trait that he tried to encourage. Holding on to trivial items, like Anakin’s 3nd year poetry project, was not something he wanted advertised, and that wasn’t even what had given him away.
“Truthfully, you barely know me.” He said it to start an argument.
“Our relationship is rather new.” Liax stepped towards the kettle as it boiled, and Obi-wan stepped back as he reached for it. Liax smiled at him, kettle in hand. “Thank you for sharing with me.” Then he turned and poured the tea into the prepared mugs, picking them up and carrying them towards the couch to sit on, placing each of them on a coaster.
It very effectively disarmed any aggression Obi-wan had left.
He stood for second, somewhat undecided, watching Liax settle in to the couch, his white healer’s uniform crinkled, probably due to his running across the temple and sitting on the couch now. He ran a hand idly through his curly hair as he picked up his mug. Obi-wan watched him quizzically. Why did he trust him so?
Liax looked up at Obi-wan, expression open. “Do you want to sit? I promise it’s not a real session. But I can see you’re worrying and I want to set your mind at ease for the rest of the day. I could walk you through the legality and confidentiality of these appointments, or we could discuss if and how you want to share any information with the council.”
Liax pushed on a coaster, sliding Obi-wan’s mug to his side of the couch. “If you want, we could just sit, watch a show or something, and you could simply exist in the company of somebody else.”
Obi-wan hummed derisively.” Somebody with whom I don’t have to be a Jedi?”
“I didn’t say that. I meant just another person you can relax with, aside from yourself.” There was a pause. Obi-wan's words hung in the air. “Do you wish you could find a space where you didn’t have to be a Jedi?”
Obi-wan didn’t reply immediately, but walked over to sit beside Liax on the couch. Sometimes it was good to face him so he could read his expressions, scan for judgement, or disgust, and prepare to bolt. Other times he craved acceptance and reassurance so badly that he lost the courage to look. Today, sitting beside him was easier. He leaned forward like a hunchback, sitting just on the edge of the couch, hunching over his tea.
“I didn’t realize there could ever be something I wasn’t willing to share with them.”
Liax granted Obi-wan the privacy he needed by looking at his tea instead of his face. But he could tell Liax was listening.
“They’re going to try to get it out of me. And what if Windu starts telling other people his suspicions? Or that list of names gets out?” There was a note of panic in his voice.
“That list of names doesn’t have to mean anything. They can’t legally make you say anything.” His voice was level and calm.
“But what if I cave? What if they guilt me into it?”
“We can work on ways to ensure that they cannot try to guilt you into it.” He took another sip of tea.
“What’s the matter with you?! You aren’t taking this seriously!”
Liax set down his tea. “I want you to feel as relaxed as I do about this. Do you want to know why I am unconcerned?”
Obi-wan raised his eyebrows incredulously, voice sharpening. “Absolutely. Do share.”
“There is nothing more that you can do here except discuss with me how you wish to handle it. There are three routes. First, you don’t say anything to anyone. Secondly, you give them information they need under your terms. Thirdly, you tell them everything.”
“Yes, you see that third one is my concern. They’ll guilt me into telling them every last morbid detail. Do you know how thorough our mission reports have to be if there is an ongoing investigation? The only Jedi I’ve seen that have gotten out of it are the ones that have died.” He hoped Liax drowned in his sarcasm, but when he looked over it seemed he was still treading water. He was shaking his head.
“The three options I outlined are all under your own terms. Them “forcing” you isn’t an option.” He gently placed his hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder, and Obi-wan looked at him, back still hunched forwards, elbows on his knees.
“These three are the only options you need to worry about. Whichever one you decide on, there is a path we will pursue that only I need to worry about.” He emphasized the I with a hand on his own chest. “ I will prepare everything we need depending on whatever path feels best for you. We can discuss those now, or you can find someone later to discuss with, but all you need to do for now is relax and understand that I will be with you for all of it. They won’t be able to get to you.”
Obi-wan smiled at him weakly. “You can’t be here all the time.”
“That’s true. But while we come up with a plan, we can have someone with you, we’ll find ways to ensure they can’t pressure you into anything.”
Obi-wan leaned back and Liax’s hand slid off his shoulder. He watched Liax sceptically, more resigned than disbelieving.
“We make sure you are away from your comm. You don’t answer calls from Mace Windu, but can still look at text messages if it’s an emergency. You don’t enter meetings with other Jedi without Anakin.”
Obi-wan nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact with Liax. “ That might work for a time.”
Liax nodded. “Alright, so we’ll start there. And in our next session we’ll work on long term methods to help you, things like standing up for yourself, or building self esteem so it’s easier to set those boundaries. Does that sound like it would be helpful for you?”
Obi-wan shrugged. “I never thought I’d need to try anything like that.”
Liax smiled sadly. “This is an extreme set of circumstances. I’m sorry the order isn’t handling it with grace.”
Obi-wan nodded, surprised to find himself a little choked up. “Me too.”
He picked up his mug, took another sip. Liax didn’t ask him anything else so it made it easier to say something else.
“I don’t think this is something I can heal from.” His voice was low, quiet, and he was surprised how dejected he sounded, even to his own ears.
Liax waited for him to continue, body angled towards him, movements gentle and controlled.
Obi-wan’s heart was a hummingbird.
“I,I have nightmares all the time. I had a flashback in the chambers before you got there. Everything feels so sharp and so vivid. I either don’t remember in detail, or I remember so well that it feels like I’ve never left.”
Liax nodded, and Obi-wan glanced over warily.
“How am I supposed to heal from something that everyone is still poking at? Even I can’t stop poking at it. When I’m not dreaming about it, I’m thinking about it. It feels like it’s part of me now, this horrible experience that’s more shaping than the rest of my life has been.”
“That’s a hard question. The truth is, things won’t go back to how they were before. They can’t. Healing doesn’t look like how we often imagine it will.”
“I know,” Obi-wan snapped.
“But it’s not more shaping than the rest of your life. Our lives and experiences are a part of us, but often the worst things feel more important or impactful than the best things. The truth is, we are not the worst things that have happened to us.”
Obi-wan looked away from the strength of Liax’s gaze and wished he had that sureness in him. He used to.
“You can say that, but it doesn’t feel true.”
“Nobody looks at you or at me and sees the worst days of our lives; they see a person.”
“I don’t see that.”
“We can work on that.”
Obi-wan sighed out his nose and looked down.
“I know it doesn’t sound feasible.”
“It sounds hopeless. Far too optimistic.” He scratched at his beard like there was something in it.
There wasn’t.
“It’s okay if it sounds hopeless or optimistic. Our emotional states aren’t permanent; that’s just how it feels right now. And that’s okay.”
That’s okay.
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