“Anakin,” a soft voice beckons him. He opens his eyes halfway, then shuts them tightly as the fuzzy-brightness hits him like a blow to the back of the head. It doesn’t matter though, he doesn’t have to look to know who that delicate Coruscanti accent belongs to.
“Stop…kriffing doing this,” says Anakin in a low growl. Obi-Wan doesn’t retaliate, not even to comment on his padawan’s language.
His hand rests on Anakin’s sweaty forehead. “Do you remember where you are?”
“I died and went to hell.”
Obi-Wan makes a disapproving little sound and Anakin knows he’s trying not to chuckle. “Indulge an old master’s worries, please.”
Anakin heaves a longsuffering sigh. “Resolute. Medbay. I got thrown against the wall by a separatist’s bomb and banged my head, and now I think my master’s trying to kill me with sleep deprivation.”
“Nonsense, I gave you an extra half hour this time.”
“Can you die of sleep deprivation?”
“You are not dying of anything. Go back to sleep, Anakin. I’ll see you in two hours,” Obi-Wan insists.
Anakin groans. Sleep returns so instantly and deeply that two hours pass like a single moment.
He hears Obi-Wan calling and doesn’t give the man a chance to ask his questions.
“My name is Anakin Skywalker. I’m 21 years old. I know I’m on my ship and my master’s trying to kill me, thank you very much.”
“We are filled with cheerfulness, I see. Very well, Anakin. Go back to sleep.” Obi-Wan pats Anakin’s arm with an infuriating tenderness. He doesn’t get to be so soft and caring when Anakin is trying to be pissed at him. Everything is sore and pulsing around him and it hurts to think.
His pain is quickly dampened by the darkness of unconsciousness.
“Skyguy? Hey?”
That wasn’t Obi-Wan’s voice. Anakin opens one eye and the world pitches forward. He coughs, then chokes, then rolls over and heaves up the contents of his stomach, his entire skull throbbing as though it could split open.
“Skyguy!” Ahsoka exclaims. “Master Obi-Wan!”
Anakin continues to cough. A hand guides him to lie back down and someone wipes the vomit from his face with a cool cloth.
“Shhh-shh. Can you open your eyes and try to focus on me?”
Anakin shrinks away from the hands holding him.
“Open your eyes, Anakin.”
“He just wants to make sure you’re okay, Master.”
Obi-Wan uses his thumb to gently open each eye in turn and the throbbing redoubles.
“They’re definitely more dilated than they were. Ahsoka, could you grab a clean cloth?”
Everything is too much. Anakin sees things in slow motion.
“Do you know where you are, Anakin?”
Anakin is aware of the pair moving around him, fussing, sometimes soothing, but he isn’t sure what they’re saying to him. His eyes slide shut again.
“No, Padawan. Stay with me,” Obi-Wan mumbles, jostling Anakin’s shoulder in a frustrating way. Now they won’t let him sleep at all? Anakin moans and Obi-Wan’s face crumples as if the sound were a physical blow.
“I’m sorry that you’re in pain, Anakin. I need you to stay awake.”
Anakin’s only reply is a whimper.
“Master Obi-Wan, is it serious?”
“I can’t tell, Ahsoka. The fact that he’s so confused isn’t a good sign. But we’re just an hour out from Coruscant, he only has to hold out a little longer.”
“Why did he get better, then worse all of a sudden?” Ahsoka asks, her voice unsteady.
“There might be internal bleeding,” Obi-Wan guesses. “Don’t be afraid. Help me keep him distracted.”
Anakin reaches out and grabs a fistful of Obi-Wan’s sleeve. Obi-Wan kneels beside him while Ahsoka perches on the edge of the bunk near Anakin’s feet.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin slurs.
“I’m here, Padawan.”
“We’re almost home, Skyguy.”
Obi-Wan drapes the damp cloth across Anakin’s forehead again, and Anakin makes a tiny satisfied noise. It feels deliciously cool against his feverish skin. He is still disoriented, but the voices he hears are familiar and soothing. They will keep him safe. He keeps a firm grip on Obi-Wan’s sleeve, knowing that his master will stay by his side, as he has always done.
Landing is a painful ordeal, and the journey to the Halls of Healing is even more so. Obi-Wan nags him every time he starts to fall asleep, and as frustrating as that is, it’s reassuring too.
The Healer’s is all shuffling footsteps and unfamiliar hands and tiny lights being shone directly into his eyes, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka stay, and that makes it a bit easier to bear.
“There are no signs of brain bleeding,” a healer assures Obi-Wan, who sighs in measured relief. “Just swelling. We’ll have to keep him for a few days.”
“Anakin,” Anakin hears his master’s voice and feels his calloused hand caressing his face. “You can rest now. You’re alright. Sleep, Padawan.”
