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Anakin Skywalker was a man on a mission.
Not the usual sort of mission, though. There would be no negotiations between warring factions, no bombs to dispose of, no gaudy undercover costumes, no distressed civilians to save. This was unofficial, lower-level, and yet to Anakin, it was the most high-priority mission he could be assigned, even if he was the one who gave it to himself. Because Obi-Wan Kenobi needed him, and there was no way in the galaxy Anakin would let him down.
He stalked through the Resolute ’s hallways like a shadow, intensity flowing off of him in waves. This long walk was simply one thing standing between him and his quarters, and from there he could get Obi-Wan the help he needed. Nothing would block his way.
There was a faint hum underneath his feet, as there always was when in hyperspace. It usually annoyed him, but now he was only grateful for it, because the more the ship hummed the farther away they got from Kadavo.
Anakin shivered involuntarily at even the thought of the planet where he’d found Obi-Wan, Rex, and the Kiros colonists. Then he shook his head and kept going. Obi-Wan was in the medbay all alone and he needed Anakin there with him, not getting emotional in some random hallway.
After a few long minutes, the doors to his quarters loomed ahead, but just as soon as he spotted them he saw something that made him pause. Ahsoka was standing near them, face lowered. Naturally, Anakin’s quarters were housed near the other high ranking officers’, including Ahsoka’s. It was not out of the ordinary in the slightest to see her near, but now she was not going to the door to the right where her quarters lay, but standing right in front of Anakin’s. She raised her hand in a fist and was prepared to knock when he spoke up.
“Ahsoka?”
She turned to face him, surprised. “Master?”
Anakin did not flinch at the title, though once he might have. In his over a decade in the Jedi Order, he had come to understand well the different definitions of the word.
“What are you doing here?”
Ahsoka crossed her arms defensively. “What are you doing here?”
Anakin snorted. “These are my quarters.”
“Right,” she blinked.
“Did you need something?” Anakin asked kindly, after it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything further.
Ahsoka shook her head stubbornly, the glint in her eye almost daring Anakin to say something in response.
“Alright, well, I’m just grabbing a holodisc to watch something with Obi-Wan in the medbay, if you want to join us.”
She straightened up quickly, then relaxed again, almost desperately trying to look casual when she replied, “Sure, I’ll come along.”
Anakin nodded and keyed into his quarters. Contrary to popular belief, they weren’t that messy. Years of living with Obi-Wan had cured him of his more slovenly habits. But his holodisc collection took a little while to find -- he’d remembered throwing it in a desk drawer, but after a few minutes of searching he eventually found it slipped down between the desk and the wall. He pulled it out carefully and opened it on the desk, sure he would find something immediately, but he was initially displeased with his selections as he cycled through them. The Quick and the Curious: Bespin Drift -- no, Obi-Wan had never liked those speeder-racing movies as much as Anakin did; Galactic Standard Days of Our Lives -- ditto, soap operas weren’t really Obi-Wan’s thing either; Planet Alderaan -- that sort of nature documentary was actually right up Obi-Wan’s alley but personally Anakin would rather die that sit through it with Obi-Wan for the fourth time…
Then he saw it.
The first time he and Obi-Wan had watched The Great Galactic Bake Off, it hadn’t been intentional. They’d been at some peace summit on Alderaan, and the holovision in their quarters had gotten stuck on one channel. That was back when Anakin was even more of an annoying brat than he was now, so he refused to let his Master turn it off when they got back to their quarters after a long day of negotiation. As luck would have it, the show that had been playing was The Great Galactic Bake Off , and it quickly captivated both Master and Padawan. There was something about it that drew them in and soothed them at the same time. There were bright colors and airy scenes, nice hosts that were sassy and comforting in equal measure. All the contestants were amateurs, meaning no elitist talk or highbrow concepts that went over the audience’s head. And best of all, pretty much everyone was nice to each other -- no clashes or catfights like on many other baking shows. This was a big win, especially for Obi-Wan. His job involved a lot of dealing with arguments and people being petty or rude or spiteful. When he was off the clock, he needed to unwind by watching something without any of that. Of course, he could and did enjoy many pieces of media that contained conflict, but it wasn’t as relaxing to him. All of these things combined made TGGBO the perfect show.
Ever since then, it’d been the comfort show that Obi-Wan and Anakin would watch together. Even as Anakin grew up and his tastes evolved, he was always down to watch TGGBO with his Master.
“The Great Galactic Bake Off?” Ahsoka asked, peering at the holodisc. “That’s that one cooking show, right?”
“Baking,” Anakin corrected. “C’mon, Ahsoka, it’s even in the name.”
“Same difference.”
“Better not say that in front of Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, palming the door open and stepping into the hallway once more.
Ahsoka followed quietly behind him for a moment, then spoke in a quiet voice. “How is he?”
Anakin’s hand clenched involuntarily around the holodisc, and he spared a moment to thank the Force that he’d decided to carry it in his non-metal hand. “He’s… Well. He’s not great at the moment. All of the bacta tanks are currently full of the more critical of the Kiros colonists, so while he waits he’s only got bacta strips to cover his whip wounds. He’s in a lot of pain, even with the meds.” He held up the holodisc. “I’m trying to distract him.”
Ahsoka nodded. “Well, I hope the troopers like The Great Galactic Bake Off.”
“Actually,” Anakin winced slightly. “They’ve put him in a private room. Which I’m sure they thought was a very nice perk for a high-ranking officer like Obi-Wan, but I almost think he’d rather be back on Kadavo than in his own room by himself.”
“Really?” Ahsoka was understandably shocked. “He hates getting his own room that much?”
“Obi-Wan hates being alone for long stretches of time, period,” Anakin murmured. “Ever since he was a kid, he’s had nightmares -- or visions, probably -- about being alone in a desert somewhere, forever. All alone, just him against the bitter universe. It’s kind of given him a complex, I think. And it doesn’t help that he hasn’t really ever lived alone, either. He went from the crèche to his quarters with Qui-Gon to living with me, and I was Knighted a few months into the war and haven’t had time to switch quarters, so now technically you’re living there in the Temple too.”
“Huh,” Ahsoka said. “I guess he’ll be really glad to see us, then.”
But when they got to the medbay and found Obi-Wan’s room, he was not in any state to show gladness, or any emotion other than pain. He was lying chest down on a padded surface as a medic flushed out the wounds on his back. It was difficult to tell if it was working, as Obi-Wan’s back was currently less of a back than a canvas of lacerations covered with blood. Obi-Wan’s eyes were shut and his mouth was trembling with the effort of keeping it closed.
“Almost done, sir,” the medic murmured, hands moving efficiently. Obi-Wan made no acknowledgement that he’d spoken, just made a low hiss between his teeth as fresh bacta strips were applied. His face gradually became slightly more relaxed as the numbing properties of the bacta kicked in, but it never lost its pinch.
The medic helped position Obi-Wan into a more comfortable spot on the bed, being careful not to leave him putting pressure on the many wounds, then readjusted a bone knitter around Obi-Wan’s leg that Anakin hadn’t even noticed.
“Another bacta tank will open in a few hours, and the bone knitter should be done then as well,” the medic said calmly. “Until then, keep as still as possible and don’t lie on your back at all.”
“Thank you, Fixer,” Obi-Wan croaked, cracking an eye open.
“Of course, sir,” Fixer said. “Press the call button if you need anything.”
He nodded at Anakin and Ahsoka in the doorway, then made his way back into the chaos of the main medbay.
Anakin stepped up closer to the bed. “Hey, Obi-Wan, how are you feeling?”
“I’ve… seen better days.”
“Right,” Anakin murmured. “Do they have you on the good meds, at least?”
“Mmm… I’d call them the mediocre meds,” Obi-Wan grimaced. Anakin went to hit the call button, but Obi-Wan threw out his hand to stop him, wrenching his back. He cried out, face pinching in agony, and Anakin was immediately distracted.
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Anakin said, hands hovering uselessly over Obi-Wan’s back. Kriff, he hated this -- seeing Obi-Wan in pain and not being able to do anything.
“Don’t call Fixer,” Obi-Wan gasped, and continued before Anakin could protest. “The Kiros colonists need all the help they can get. I don’t want to take anything away from them.”
Anakin looked down at him critically. “This isn’t you being a self-sacrificing idiot, is it?”
Obi-Wan laughed mirthlessly. “The ‘good drugs,’ as you call them, are the only things we have on this ship rated for Togrutan biology. It’s their only option for pain relief. I can certainly handle this and let them take what little supply of the stronger options we have.”
Anakin squinted his eyes at him.
“Anakin, believe me,” he said resignedly, “I wouldn’t be lying here like this if I didn’t truly feel it was in everyone’s best interest.”
The tension held for a second, two seconds, then Anakin breathed out of his nose and nodded. Ahsoka stepped up beside him.
“Hello, Master Kenobi. I hope you feel better soon.”
Obi-Wan smiled wanly. “Thank you, Ahsoka. I hope you’re doing alright as well. What were you up to while I was on Kadavo?”
Ahsoka shook her head. “Nothing quite so extreme as what happened to you. Just hanging in a cage, mostly. Like some sort of bird, or exotic pet. Anakin rescued me pretty quickly, though.”
“Good,” Obi-Wan nodded against the bed. “That was nice of him.”
Anakin winced. “Sorry, Master.” He should have gotten there to Kadavo sooner, he shouldn’t have been so slow--
But Obi-Wan just huffed out a breath of laughter. “I wasn’t being sarcastic, Padawan.”
Well, Anakin still wasn’t happy about it, so time to move the conversation along, huh?
“We brought something to watch with you. Your favorite.”
Obi-Wan groaned. “Anakin, for the last time, you’re the one who likes those obnoxious speeder racing holos, not me.”
Anakin rolled his eyes. “I know that, Master. I brought something you’ll actually like. Are you going to let me reveal it, or are you just going to lie there and complain preemptively?”
“I haven’t decided yet, I’ll let you know.”
Anakin took a deep breath and reminded himself that he loved his Master, even if Obi-Wan not-so-occasionally annoyed the kriff out of him. Plus, he was hurt, and at least partially medicated. Anakin wasn’t going to hold his words against him. So instead of retorting, he just brightened and said, “Great! Well, I brought The Great Galactic Bake Off.”
A delighted smile spread across Obi-Wan’s face. “The new season?”
“Yup. Picked it up on my last shore leave.”
“And you’ve just been hiding it from me since then?”
“We live on different ships! How is me keeping my possession in my quarters hiding it from you?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Padawan, you could have--”
Ahsoka cut in. “Is there somewhere we could plug this in, Master Kenobi?”
Obi-Wan was immediately distracted from his semi-delirious ramblings with his grandpadawan. He was such a stereotypical grandmaster, doting on Ahsoka. He could never resist her.
“Hmm, I’m not entirely sure… Perhaps at the base of the bed?”
Sure enough, there was a spot. Perks of an officer’s room, Anakin supposed. He quickly got the projector set up in view of all three and pressed play.
Instantly, he was greeted with the show’s cheery theme, accompanied with close up pan shots of various baked goods and hands from different species as they made them. The two hosts, a suave looking Pantoran man named Dann Corellia and a cheery old Twi’lek woman named Shuja Muja, bantered about the upcoming episode before introducing the contestants. Each one looked slightly nervous but nonetheless very excited to be on The Great Galactic Bake Off. When the first contest started, a challenge to showcase a signature recipe they might serve to friends or family, there was lots of bustling about and fretting, but everyone quickly got to work.
Anakin kept his gaze firmly fixed on the holoscreen, but in the Force he was monitoring Obi-Wan as well. His pain seemed to rise and fall at random, flaring up even further at even the slightest moment. But through it all, Obi-Wan remained focused on both the episode playing and his own steady breathing.
“Nooooo!” Ahsoka cried, startling the other two in the room. Anakin immediately looked towards her, but she was staring at the screen, watching as one of the contestants dropped his nearly-finished cake on the floor.
Obi-Wan had jerked his hand towards his lightsaber at Ahsoka’s cry, and judging by the faint few tears rolling down one cheek, he was bitterly regretting the movement.
“Ahsoka,” Anakin admonished, then turned to Obi-Wan. “Master, you good?”
“Mm,” Obi-Wan hummed, eyes tightly closed. He swallowed once, then blinked a few times and gave a tight smile. “All good. But I think Harito’s cake is not.”
Onscreen, the buff Karkarodon man was practically sobbing at the sight of his now-ruined cake, but Shuja Muja was already coming over to comfort him.
“Do you remember when I dropped your lifeday cake, Master?” Anakin asked, settling in his chair but keeping one eye on Obi-Wan.
A faint huff from the bed. “Of course. You were in tears for hours.”
“I spent weeks bribing your friends to tell me when your lifeday was, and then another week planning everything for the surprise party, and after all that I tripped on the boots I insisted weren’t too big for me and dropped the cake.”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, mirth coming through stronger now. “In quite spectacular fashion, I might add. But as they say, it’s the thought that counts. And that was such a nice thought.”
Ahsoka grinned. “Awww, Master, I can just imagine you as a teeny tiny Padawan, trying to make a giant cake. It was probably bigger than you.”
“Hey,” Anakin protested. “You’re the teeny tiny Padawan at the moment, so don’t go getting all cocky. I expect a cake for my lifeday now too.”
“What am I supposed to make a cake out of on the Resolute ? Ration bars?”
Obi-Wan began shaking then, and it took a second for Anakin to realize it was out of laughter and not pain. He only spared a moment to glance at him before turning and poking a finger in Ahsoka’s face. “Padawan, if you try and give me a cake made out of kriffing ration bars for any occasion, you should consider this apprenticeship over right then and there.”
Ahsoka crossed her arms defiantly. “I’m not worried. Rex would take me on.”
“Rex isn’t a Jedi, he can’t take you as his Padawan, Ahsoka.”
“That’s what they want you to think.”
“Who’s ‘they’?!” Anakin cried, and Ahsoka just stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to the screen, where Harito had apparently been given extra time to try and throw together a new cake.
“Do you remember what we did after you dropped the cake?” Obi-Wan rasped from the bed.
Anakin smiled at the thought. “Yeah, of course.”
“We made a new one together,” Obi-Wan said, mainly for Ahsoka’s benefit. “The kitchen was absolutely covered in flour by the end of it and it took hours to clean up, but we finally had a nice sweet cake to eat.” He paused and smiled slightly. “That was my favorite lifeday. It was the first one after Master Qui-Gon died and I didn’t want to celebrate, but you made it a good one. The best one.”
Anakin swallowed thickly. “I’m glad, Master.”
Obi-Wan turned his head slightly back to the screen, evidently done with emotions for the day. The three of them watched as every other contestant on the show banded together to help Harito finish his new cake. The judges ended up loving both it and the story behind it, and declared the entire group the winners of that collective challenge. Ahsoka pumped her fist, and Anakin turned to Obi-Wan to smile with him, but the other man was fast asleep.
Anakin blinked. His former Master’s brow wasn’t smooth and pain free, but at least he was actually resting, which was assuredly something he hadn’t gotten the chance to do much of over the past week. Anakin and Ahsoka looked at each other and made the silent decision to queue up the next episode with the volume lowered and subtitles on.
When Fixer came back a few hours later, he found all three of them asleep. Ahsoka’s head was resting on Anakin’s bicep, and Anakin’s hand was placed softly over Obi-Wan’s wrist.
Regretfully, he gently tapped on Obi-Wan’s shoulder to wake him up and whispered, “Sir? There’s a bacta tank with your name on it.”
“Thank you, Fixer,” Obi-Wan said back, just as quietly. “Just let me…”
He trailed off and used the Force to gently nudge Anakin’s hand onto his own lap, then called a blanket over from the cabinet and wafted it over the pair.
“Alright. Now we can go.”
As Fixer wheeled him out silently, Obi-Wan spared a final glance back at his lineage. He could do nothing but smile.