Chapter Text
The first time it happened, Anakin was alone.
He’d been messing around with Artoo’s settings, as he was wont to do whenever he got a bit of free time from either fighting a war, bickering with Obi-Wan or attempting to shape Ahsoka into a better Jedi than he was.
The next thing he knew, he was waking up with his cheek pressed onto the cold floor. The chair he’d been sitting on had fallen over, and Artoo was beeping restlessly on the desktop, unable to do anything else with half his wiring pulled out.
Anakin grunted. His limbs felt heavy, pinpricks scattered across his fingers and legs, and his head felt stuffed, as though it were filled with cotton. He blinked a few times, trying to bring his bed into focus as he stared at it blankly from his limp position.
He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him; this had never happened to him like this before. So promptly, unwarranted.
Soon, his motor skills came back under his control, and he pressed his palms flat against the floor to push himself into a seated position, his mechanical arm whirring softly. His head spun as the world shifted, but overall he was fine: when he dragged a hand up to feel at his scalp, he found merely a small bump on the side of his head. He’d been lucky to have been sitting rather than standing when he had passed out.
His next instinct was to reach up and grab his comm on the desk. Obi-Wan, his brain supplied as he began to grow a little worried about what had happened now that his mind had cleared a bit. His (former) Master would know what to do.
But before he’d even begun to grasp the cold metal of the device, he pulled his hand back as if startled.
Fury and bitterness caused a heat to burn underneath his skin. Obi-Wan had betrayed him by deceiving him, he remembered all of a sudden. By pretending to be dead and using Anakin’s emotions to fulfill his own mission, he’d made it clear that their friendship meant little to him.
Anakin had not talked to his Master since that mission debrief. He wasn’t avoiding the man. He simply hadn’t really needed to speak with him for the past couple of weeks. He was handling his own missions, he was teaching his own Padawan the ways of the Jedi, he was leading his own men.
And he was going to handle his own problems by himself.
He stood, ignoring the tremble that ran down his legs as he did so. He must have not eaten enough, he figured. That, along with exhaustion from their previous mission, must have built up to a small breakdown, causing him to faint. There was nothing else going on.
He made his way to the Resolute’s mess hall and spooned some of the bland glob onto a plate. That’d fix him right up, he was sure.
-
It was inevitable, and yet…
Anakin set his narrowed gaze on Obi-Wan from across the bridge. Couldn’t the Council have sent him to Onderon with quite literally anyone else?
Ahsoka bounced on her feet next to him, eyes lighting up as she waved at her Grandmaster. “Master Obi-Wan!” she greeted as the older Jedi came to a stop in front of them. Cody, who had been walking with him, regarded them with a nod and walked off, probably to look for Rex.
“Hello there,” Obi-Wan said, his expression light. “It has been quite a while since I’ve seen either of you.” His eyes flicked to Anakin, whose sharp glare did not falter. “Shall we catch up before we go over the mission? I am curious to hear about your endeavors on Florrum—”
“I’m afraid I’ll be busy preparing the siege with Captain Rex,” Anakin interrupted brusquely. However, he did know that his young Padawan had missed Obi-Wan, and he didn’t want to make his own resentment her resentment as well. “But I’m sure Ahsoka would be happy to chat, Master.”
Ahsoka glanced up at him, crossing her arms. She knew he didn’t have such a busy schedule at all. Regardless, she said nothing, for which he was woefully grateful. She understood why he’d rather not talk to his former Master.
Obi-Wan, however, was a different story. “I am sure Rex can go without you for a few minutes, Anakin.” He knew the younger was bullshitting.
He shot his Master a phoney smile, humming tonelessly. “Maybe. But I’d rather put my full focus into the mission. I’m quite sure you can understand, Master.” Obi-Wan’s lips thinned, recognizing the jab for what it was. “Of course,” he relented tactfully. “Then your Padawan and I will join you for the briefing soon.”
“Great,” Anakin replied, not able to keep the sarcasm from leaking into his voice.
Obi-Wan stared at him, as if waiting for him to give in. But there was nothing to give in to, was there? After all, wasn’t this what his Master had always wanted from him? A guarded, polite distance between the two of them?
And nothing else.
“Okaaay,” Ahsoka dragged the word through the tense silence. Obi-Wan averted his eyes from Anakin. “Yes,” he nodded, speaking to Ahsoka now. “Shall we have some tea, young one?”
Ahsoka didn’t like tea, Anakin knew, but she nodded anyway. “See you later, Skyguy!” she called as the two of them left, and he waved at her smiling face.
A headache began pounding at his skull.
-
The headache persisted into the following day, through a night’s sleep and more painkillers than probably good for him. In fact, it grew even more prominent as they flew down to the rocky surface of Onderon.
Every movement he made felt as though he were moving through jelly, and he knew it was becoming evident to the people around him. He wasn’t graceful like Obi-Wan, but neither was he usually this ungainly. Rex had asked him if he had eaten enough multiple times already, and Ahsoka had been eyeing him suspiciously until he eventually sent her to restock the rations with Tup.
It didn’t help that his vision was gradually growing more distorted with an odd, zig-zagging white line. Every time he tried to take a proper look at it, it slid to the side of his vision. It was akin to those shapes he used to see when he rubbed his eyes too harshly as a kid, but now he knew that he hadn’t done anything of the sort.
So what had caused this then—his headache?
By the time they landed near Onderon’s capital city, Iziz, the purple-topped jungle of the planet was partially hidden by the zig-zag. Anakin swallowed thickly, squeezing his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to vanish both the zig-zagging bitch of a distortion, and his hammering headache, but it was in vain.
The world seemed to swirl underneath his feet.
“Anakin, are you coming?” It was Obi-Wan asking the question, but Anakin hardly recognized his sharp Coruscanti accent.
He was standing behind Anakin, who was hunched over a table. His Master couldn’t see the way his eyes struggled to stay open, the way he gasped for air against the growing dizziness. Neither could anyone else see: somewhere along the way, every clone had already departed.
“Yes,” he croaked, clearing his throat. He couldn’t afford to be weak right now. Especially not in front of Obi-Wan. “Be right behind you.”
A moment of silence. Thin hesitation.
But then he heard Obi-Wan’s footsteps grow quiet, and Anakin crumpled. He hit the table first, slumping onto it like he was nothing more than a weightless piece of cloth, and then continued to slide backwards and onto the chilled, smooth floor. His body collided against it with a thump, a dull pain blooming at the back of his skull, and he vaguely registered his head lolling to the side and seeing a pair of heavy boots running toward him.
“General!” someone yelled from far away.
Had something happened to Obi-Wan?
But his eyes rolled back into his head before he could take a moment to assess the situation.
-
It felt as if hours had passed when he woke up to Kix and Rex kneeling next to him.
“How long was that?” Kix asked, his eyes studying Anakin keenly. Gloved fingers pulled at his heavy eyelids before a harsh light shone onto his face suddenly. He flinched back, though that was of little use since he was on the floor and couldn’t exactly back up.
“42 seconds, but he was on the ground for eight or ten seconds already.” Rex held a holowatch in his hands, concerned eyes meeting Anakin’s bleary gaze.
“Around 50 seconds total, then,” Kix nodded thoughtfully, retracting the light and releasing his hold on Anakin’s face. Kix bowed over Anakin, then. The astute look on his face was gone, replaced by something kind and reassuring. It was not unlike the way Obi-Wan had looked at him when Anakin had been sick as a child.
“You experienced a short seizure, General. You are on Onderon, with the 501st and the 212th. Your Padawan, Ahsoka Tano, and Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, are just outside, preparing the mission.”
“Not my M’ster anymore,” Anakin managed to grumble, breathing out harshly with effort.
“We know,” Rex was quick to soothe, his hand coming to rest on Anakin’s calf. The touch felt oddly distant.
Kix looked back at his fellow clone. “He seems lucid enough. He should be alright with some rest, but we’ll need to send him back to Coruscant to run tests soon. Would you get Kenobi and tell him what happened while I transport the General to the infirmary?”
“No,” Anakin protested weakly, the word barely loud enough to be heard. He felt unbearably exhausted, and his head was still screaming, but at least the distortion had gone away.
“General—” Rex started, but Anakin shook his head the best he could in his current position. “Don’ tell Obi-Wan. This happened…” He breathed in deeply, feeling as if he had just run a marathon by just uttering a few incomplete sentences. “... before. I was fine then,” he finished.
Kix looked horrified. “When did this happen? How often?”
“Once,” Anakin managed. “Two…weeks ago.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
“I was fine,” Anakin insisted. His head was beginning to clear, the numbness in his body dissipating, just like last time. He was still drained—he felt like he could sleep for 20 continuous hours—but tried to push himself up again anyway, feeling ashamed to be in such a vulnerable position. He was a Jedi General, he should be stronger than this.
Kix stopped his attempt with a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but you are not fine. A seizure is not something to take lightly.”
“I j’st passed out.”
The medic shook his head. “No, you didn’t. Look, if you don’t want me to inform General Kenobi, I won’t. You have the right to privacy, he is not your guardian anymore. But as your medic I have authority over you, and I order you to stay down and listen to me as I try to figure out why this is happening to you. Got it?”
Petulantly, Anakin stayed silent.
“You could be seriously sick, Skywalker,” Kix said, his brows furrowing severely. Like the teachers in the Temple when Anakin hadn’t done his homework correctly.
“Fine.” Anakin closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep.
Kix didn’t seem to care. “What do you want me to tell Kenobi and Commander Tano? Would you like to see them?”
“I can go get them,” Rex piped up.
“No,” Anakin responded immediately, before he could change his mind. He opened his eyes again. “Just tell them I’m not…feeling well,” he inhaled deeply, frustrated with his inability to speak at a normal pace. “That I came down with something. It used to happen all the time.”
He did want to see Ahsoka. Wanted to see her trusting eyes and comfort himself with her undeserved admiration for him. She thought he was strong; she would believe he would overcome this. And he needed that, because at this moment, lying down pathetically and feeling tears burning at his eyes, he was scared.
A seizure.
He wanted Obi-Wan’s presence there to soothe him, most of all. But that was ludicrous. He was not a child—his Master would not wrap him up in reassurances and soft robes anymore. Especially not with the current fragile state of their friendship. It was better to just let Obi-Wan continue with the mission without another burden Anakin had brought to his mind.
Just the same, he didn’t want to distract Ahsoka, or worry her. He hated the thought of not being there to watch over her as she went into battle, but trusted his former Master to do that for him.
The two of them would be fine.
Kix looked pained, but was forced to go along with his decision. He was professional like that. “Very well.”
The two clones helped him along to the infirmary, their shoulders supporting his shaky form until he was situated on one of the familiar pristine cots. The medical equipment here was plenty, but not as elaborate as at the Temple.
After sending Rex away to tell the plain lie to Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and the troops, Kix stuck an IV into Anakin’s hand and hooked him up to a monitor. “To watch out for a potential next seizure,” Kix explained when he eyed it, disgruntled.
“Now,” the clone continued, sitting down next to the bed with a clipboard. “Tell me what happened. How did you feel before it happened? Did it feel different than the first time?”
Anakin breathed a sigh. “I had a headache. Since yesterday. But I’d eaten enough, gotten at least six hours of sleep and I took plenty of painkillers. I figured I’d be fine. But around twenty minutes ago I got this… like, zig-zagging thing in my vision. It obstructed around 40 percent of my sight, and the headache was getting worse.”
Kix didn’t call him out on his neglect to inform anyone about this. “And the first time you passed out?”
“I was just tired, then. I don’t think they’re related, really. It’s just a freak incident.”
The medic hummed, writing the information down swiftly. “The zig-zag you saw, it’s likely a retinal migraine or a visual migraine. Did the distortion occur in a single eye, or in both?”
“Both, I think.”
Kix wrote this down. “A visual migraine, then. Also called a migraine with aura. It’s a temporary neurological disturbance, but the fact that it was followed by a seizure suggests that it may be part of something more malevolent. You’ve never had this symptom before?”
“No. As I said, I really think it’s just a fluke.”
“General,” Kix sighed. “It’s true that it could have been a single seizure, but even without the added concern of your passing out two weeks previously, we would still need to take this seriously. You could have developed a brain injury resulting in a chronic neurological disorder.”
Anakin huffed, indignant. “I haven’t hit my head in months.”
“Even an injury from two years ago could still be playing up now, if not discovered and treated correctly at the time. Which, with your track record of neglecting injuries, I’m sure has happened two or three times.” Kix looked wholly unamused—he’d always been very annoyed at this habit of Anakin’s. “Even the loss of your arm could have played a role,” the medic continued. “Your body rejected the prosthetic at first, did it not? You grew sick, had a very high fever. You could have had a small seizure at that time, leading to the development of epilepsy.”
Shifting on the bed uncomfortably, Anakin swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. This was all suddenly starting to sound serious. Real.
What if he couldn’t brush this off like he always had? What if he truly did have epilepsy? He would be a worthless General. Weak and unstable.
What kind of a Chosen One was he with such fragility?
“Did you have a seizure then, Anakin?” Kix asked when he didn’t respond. His voice was gentle, which irritated him to no end.
“I don’t remember much from… from those weeks.” Only agony everywhere, sweat building on his skin. And his arm, burning white hot with pain. Occasionally, a glimpse of Obi-Wan brushing his hair back, soothing him, telling him that he’d be alright.
“I’ll check your records later, though it may be that we won’t find out. It could have been too small for anyone to take notice.” The clone stood, checking the monitor shortly. “For now, I’m going to arrange for you to be brought to the Jedi Temple. Maybe you can think about what to tell Tano and Kenobi until then. And, if you still don’t want to see them or tell them the truth, who will be continuing your Padawan’s training. You may be out of commission for quite some time, General.”
Sliding down onto the bed, feeling like a small child, Anakin muttered a vague confirmation.
What was happening to him?
-
His comm link beeped as he entered the Temple’s infirmary, Rex by his side. Anakin hadn’t wanted to tell anyone else the truth about his state, and thus the only options for a companion had been Kix or Rex. (Because apparently he was not able to travel to Coruscant alone, since his condition was precarious and all that.)
Kix had needed to stay with the mission in case of any emergencies, but Appo was capable enough to fill in for Rex for a few days. So the 501st’s Captain joined Anakin on his quest to figure out what the kriff was wrong with him—which was hopefully nothing.
Anakin glanced at his comm.
[Obi-Wan]
-What happened? (1 hr ago)
-I can sense Kix is lying (1 hr ago)
-Going back to the Temple for a check up is not standard (5 min ago)
-Just tell me whether you’re okay or not, Anakin (3 min ago)
-Please (just now)
[Ahsoka]
-I hope you’re okay! (40 min ago)
-Kix is being a little vague about the whole thing (40 min ago)
-The mission went well. Are you okay? (just now)
-Master Obi-Wan is stressed. You were right, he does look like a fish a little (just now)
Anakin responded to Ahsoka elaborately, assuring her he was doing just fine and that Kix was just being paranoid before asking after the mission on Onderon. To Obi-Wan, he replied curtly that he’d be fine. He didn’t try to deny that Kix had lied, nor did he acknowledge his Master’s statement that going all the way to Coruscant for a simple illness wasn’t ordinary.
It wasn’t Obi-Wan’s business, and he had made it obvious that he didn’t want it to be his business either. Anakin wouldn’t waste the energy explaining.
“Anakin Skywalker,” Vokara Che greeted, walking into the examination room where he’d been waiting on the bed. Rex had gone to meet up with some of the 104th. “Always ending back here.” She smiled.
The attempt to lighten the mood was appreciated, but they both knew that this visit was quite different from previous ones. He didn’t have a lightsaber wound, or a scrape or a blaster wound. Nothing to be fixed with enough bacta. Nothing quite that simple.
“Master Che, always a pleasure,” he joked back anyway, though she didn’t keep up the easy conversation for long.
“Your medic has sent over his report, Anakin. Is there anything you didn’t tell him, that you still wish to tell me?” She flipped through his medical folder, glancing at him from behind it knowingly.
“No,” he promised, probably much to her surprise. “But, Kix said he was going to look into my history of seizures. Said there was a chance I had one back when I got my prosthetic?”
She took a deep breath, fingers clenching around the folder. Anakin steeled himself; he knew the look of bad news intimately.
“Yes. He did find a report on an occasion where you passed out during that time period. It wasn’t labeled a seizure, but from the looks of it, it’s possible that it was, indeed, a small attack. We weren’t occupied with that at the time—you fainted frequently, your fever was so high. It may be that you developed a mild neurological disorder from that.”
“But…” Anakin floundered for something to say, gripping the sheets. He had hoped for Kix’s hypothesis to turn out baseless. He dug his nails into his palm. “But I’ve never had a… a seizure since. And that was two years ago.”
Che looked sympathetic, her head tilting slightly. “These things often aren’t linear, or even logical in the slightest sense,” she explained gently. “I’m going to have you undergo a couple of tests and scans. We can’t know anything for sure until we’ve taken a closer look.”
Anakin fought the urge to groan. To hell with all of this! He just wanted to go back to the war and train Ahsoka. That was his purpose—who cared if he collapsed a few times along the way?
“How long will that take?” he questioned instead of articulating those thoughts, his jaw clenching with held-back irritation. She eyed him carefully. “If you’re fine to start with the first scans today, we’ll have our first results by tomorrow morning. From there, we can discuss how to continue based on what the results look like.”
He wanted to be done with this as soon as possible.
“Well, what are we waiting for?”
-
He was ‘cleared’ a week later.
Che had denied vehemently, arguing against the Council and Anakin, but the fact was that her research had yielded no results, and Anakin was a necessity for the war efforts. Besides: he wanted to go back.
The Council reasoned that if the healers couldn’t find anything wrong with his brain, then it must have been a fluke. If he were to collapse again, he would be sent back immediately, but until then, his troops and Padawan needed him.
Anakin was glad.
He was also scared shitless. He couldn’t deny it any longer.
Was it really just a freak incident? What if there was something really wrong with him? So wrong that even Vokara Che couldn’t figure it out within a week full of tests and scans? What if he collapsed on the battlefield and failed his soldiers? And Ahsoka and even Obi-Wan?
He still hadn’t told them much, but had commed back and forth with them enough to know that the 212th and the 501st were still deployed together.
Which is why he wasn’t surprised to have Obi-Wan there to greet him when he stepped out of his ship and onto the Negotiator. Actually, he found himself a little relieved to see his former Master, warmth and comfort unfurling in his chest just from seeing the man standing there with a mild smile. He had been so stressed about his health. Seeing Obi-Wan felt as though all that weight was lifted immediately.
Even despite the man’s deception all those weeks ago.
“Master!” Ahsoka met him as soon as he exited his ship, her lithe arms wrapping around his waist.
“Miss me, Snips?” He hugged her, resting his chin on her lekku. She was so much taller than that little girl from their first meeting already, and he found himself irrationally mourning that young version of her. Ahsoka was right here, in his arms, safe and sound even despite having gone on a mission without him recently.
His face pulled together and he couldn’t help but wonder—would he get to see her grow up?
Soon she was pulling back already. Her large eyes studied him sharply, oblivious to his torn feelings. “Are you okay?” she asked, ignoring his tease all together.
He plastered a casual grin on his face. “Peachy.” The lie was easy, by now.
Obi-Wan stepped closer. “Ahsoka, would you fetch that present we got Anakin?” he requested kindly, though Anakin recognized the attempt to get him alone easily. Had his Master still not given up on trying to unravel Kix’s lie?
The Togruta frowned, but agreed quickly. “Yeah!” She ran off, ever energetic.
Anakin met his Master’s strained gaze. There was something akin to annoyance and concern in the grooves of his face. “Dear one,” he started, and the nickname caused a jolt of something to run down his back. He hadn’t heard that one in quite some time. Why would Obi-Wan use it now, of all times? Their relationship was thinning by the minute. Anakin could feel the vacancy in his mind growing where the once steadfast bond with his Master had resided.
Obi-Wan didn’t acknowledge the endearment. “What really happened?”
Anakin crossed his arms tiredly. Here came the interrogation. “I got sick,” he stated simply, his mental shields tightening as he felt Obi-Wan prod at them.
“Anakin, I only want to know you’re okay,” Obi-Wan sighed. His eyes were sunken, Anakin noted with a pang of guilt. Already, this recent weakness had put a burden on the people around him. His Master had needed to steer and lead the troops on his own while Anakin had been supposed to be there.
This only fueled his determination to keep the truth from Obi-Wan. Otherwise, who knew what the man would do? Perhaps force him to rest, or something stupid like that.
“A small bout of illness won’t knock me over, Master,” he maintained the story. “Why won’t you trust me to tell you the truth? What, is it because you deceived me?” This spilled over his lips in a more venomous manner than he’d intended, and he watched it land with a distant regret.
Lips thinning, Obi-Wan met his gaze blankly. “I’m not doing this, Padawan.” The Force around him closed off, their bond turning stale.
Anakin made no attempt to repair it. His face twisted into something angry and bitter. “Then don’t,” he spat.
Obi-Wan didn’t seem to have a proper response for this, but he didn’t have to either way—Ahsoka was already back, either genuinely oblivious to the tension in the Force, or purposely.
She handed Anakin a card with tones of blue and orange. The title read: Welcome back!!! When he flipped it open gingerly, he found countless messages and doodles from the clones inside.
From Ahsoka, there was a messy drawing of a smiling cat next to her equally messy signature.
Obi-Wan had written: I sincerely hope you are well, dear one.
That name again. Anakin stared at it vacantly before raising his gaze and smiling, though the gesture felt horribly empty. He avoided meeting his Master’s gaze.
“Thank you.”
-
Life continued as it always had.
He taught Ahsoka to survive, to harness her power and strength, and attempted to instill some joy in her, too. He didn’t feel much of it himself anymore, but recalled the way Obi-Wan had still smiled at him after losing Qui-Gon. How Obi-Wan had taken him to Coruscanti markets, and taught him how to swim and how to cook, despite fighting his grief actively every day.
He wanted to be like that for his own Padawan.
He engaged in her witty banter even when he was still reeling from a nightmare about Obi-Wan’s ‘death’ the previous night. He took her to explore any planet’s culture they landed on even when he felt sick with guilt and worry about his own condition. He put all his energy into making her laugh despite feeling unable to do so himself.
He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He was fine. Utterly and completely fine, and not in the way he was when he usually said he was, only to be hiding a gaping wound. He truly was healthy. Apart from his mandatory twice-weekly visits to Kix in the infirmary, there were no traces of his seizures ever having happened.
No killer headaches. No ‘visual migraines’, also known simply as zig-zags in Anakin’s mind. No numbness in his limbs, no blackouts, no heavy exhaustion.
Just the gnawing worry every time he was in the presence of someone else, the viscous dread. The persisting feelings of uselessness and fear on every battlefield, every time he ignited his lightsaber. The what ifs swirling in his every thought.
The 212th, and therefore his Master as well, remained by his battalion’s side. This soothed him, somewhat. If he were to collapse in a crucial moment, he trusted Obi-Wan to remain calm and lead Ahsoka and the clones to safety. Obi-Wan would know to prioritize them over a mere individual.
It also meant he could not avoid the man any longer. They slept just a few rooms away from the other, ate each meal with only a few soldiers between them. They discussed the missions together. Trying to prevent talking to Obi-Wan was fruitless.
Anakin had by now taught himself to push his feelings about Rako Hardeen deep down. Truly, proper deep: into and below the levels of his thoughts where no sunrays reached, akin to the lower planes of Coruscant. It was of no use reopening that particular wound whenever he so much as laid eyes on Obi-Wan.
Their bond remained frail, like an elder man. Aged and weary. Nevertheless, it endured the strain well enough to allow them to communicate in times of need. Which was all it had ever truly been needed for, post Anakin’s Knighting. He had clung to it too tightly during the war, Anakin knew; had finally understood that he had been the only one still feeding into it.
And yet he mourned its age-old presence in his mind. Everything seemed so much darker now.
Obi-Wan had stopped asking after his sickness, though he continued to eye him suspiciously at times. Anakin paid it little mind. He had more pressing issues to worry about. Like not passing out in the middle of battle, and shaping his Padawan into a good, happy Jedi.
Of which two goals he soon failed one.
-
Deep down, he already knew it was going to happen even before the migraine set in.
It was evident in the way he struggled to get out of bed, in how his throat closed up when attempting to get some food down, in how the Force felt hazy in his mental grasp.
And yet.
The tall grass of Randon gave way beneath his boots, a balmy breeze whistling past his ears as he looked around. The horizon stretched wide and far, only an endless plane of grass and the occasional rock in sight. A lazily rising white sun loomed in the peripheral edge of his vision and the sky was a mellow blue.
It was almost peaceful.
Alas, even through his obscured connection with the Force could Anakin sense the beginnings of a battle brewing miles away. Randon had always been a planet home to nomads, their groups small and the planet large enough to result in little to no wars.
The Separatists, however, saw this state of affairs not as something to be protected and left alone, but as an opportunity. A habitable, unclaimed planet as large and innocuous as Randon was rare in the galaxy, and perfect for large-scaled projects such as weapons factories and rendezvous bases.
In other words, dangerous projects to the Republic. Which is why the 501st and 212th were to put a stop to it, ideally in the most peaceful way possible so as not to disturb the planet’s ways.
Which meant stealth. Which meant walking to the target.
Anakin was used to this: he had walked miles in the stifling heat on Tatooine, feet sinking into the deep sand with every aching step.
But he was tired, and it was three miles into the journey when the dizziness and its accompanying headache commenced. The fleet was long out of sight by now, he knew that, but Anakin glanced back anyway.
When he found nothing, he spun around, his gaze sweeping over every inch of the vast field. There was nothing. Only boulders and grass and the troops. There was nothing to turn back to, nowhere to hide should he have a seizure.
“General?” Rex had slowed his pace from beside him. They’d been walking at the back of the group to watch out for any incoming danger from behind, Cody, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan doing the same in front.
Anakin was glad neither his Master nor his Padawan were here at the moment, given that they would have certainly seen through the reassuring smile he shot his Captain. “Thought I’d sensed something,” he said, the calm on his face belying the growing panic lodging underneath his ribs. He picked up the pace again to slot at the back of the group, and Rex followed dutifully.
“I’ll never understand you Jetii, Sir,” he commented, humor clear in his tone of voice.
Through the beginnings of his throbbing migraine, Anakin thought that he didn’t much understand most Jedi either. His eyes fell on the back of Obi-Wan’s head at the front of the group.
-
Kix was among the clones in their group, but Anakin didn’t make an attempt to reach out to him. Stubbornly—maybe stupidly—he held fast to the idea that perhaps this was just a regular bout of illness. Not every headache would spin out of control and into a seizure, now would they?
Besides, he’d always been good at hiding his pains.
Obi-Wan came to sit down next to him when they paused five miles in. Anakin had given his comfortable rock away to Ahsoka, so now he sat in the grass a few feet away, glad for the temporary rest.
His Master handed him a canteen as he lowered himself down, and Anakin let the cold water glide down his throat gratefully. It dulled the ache behind his eyes ever so slightly.
“This planet reminds me of Lothal. Do you remember our assignment there when you were fourteen, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked when he handed the canteen back, gazing out at the horizon. Anakin studied the side of his face and nodded.
“Of course. We walked eight miles in the wrong direction to find our ship that you—”
“I did not crash that ship,” Obi-Wan immediately protested, which forced a breathy laugh out of Anakin. “Sure. And you didn’t direct us eight miles to the south when we needed to go north, either.” The banter was still familiar on his tongue, somehow. Maybe because he couldn’t properly feel the strain between them in the Force through the haze of his migraine.
Obi-Wan hummed, the tone coming forth out of a place of fond amusement. “It was not like you corrected me, Padawan.”
Anakin ignored the incorrect title—after all, he still called Obi-Wan Master. “I was fourteen,” he reminded Obi-Wan, plucking at some of the grass absentmindedly. He had missed talking to his Master like this.
Obi-Wan fell silent for a moment, seemingly lost in a similar thought. He then pushed a deliberate soft wave toward Anakin in the Force before turning to him. “Are you feeling alright, Anakin?”
He tilted his head, genuinely confused as to why Obi-Wan would be asking this. Hadn’t he hidden his discomfort well enough?
“Just fine, Obi-Wan,” he said curtly. He didn’t really know why his Master had brought up Lothal like that—it was oddly nostalgic and sentimental, two words that didn’t fit the emotionally distant Obi-Wan Kenobi he knew.
In any case, he didn’t feel like reminiscing with his Master anymore. Too much had happened.
Obi-Wan didn’t seem convinced, but let the topic rest. They sat together for the remainder of the stop, in a softly edged silence.
-
The dreaded zig-zagged distortion crept in just as the foundations of the base the Separatists were building came into sight. In the two miles they’d walked since the break, his headache had only grown more profound, along with an anxious churning in his gut. He didn’t really understand where that had come from, and only vaguely remembered Kix mentioning anxiety and nerves in the list of possible symptoms for oncoming seizures.
He bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze flicking to the medic’s position in their crooked circle. Obi-Wan was speaking to the group from where they were all crouched behind a brittle rock, steadily going over the plan of attack once again to make sure all went smoothly.
Anakin tuned him out, having helped come up with the plan and therefore already intimately familiar with it. He went over his two main options.
He could either report his symptoms to Kix and reveal that there was most definitely another seizure coming up in the next couple of hours, or he could go along on the mission without informing anyone and hopefully have the seizure after the Seppies had been dealt with.
He wasn’t dense, despite what some people seemed to think. He knew he should talk to Kix, who would then make him stay behind for both his own safety and those of others. But the thing was: he was a crucial part of the mission. He would be helping Obi-Wan and Ahsoka cloak their group with the Force so that they could infiltrate the area without being seen, and he wasn’t being humble when he admitted that they needed his larger Force presence to pull this off. The open fields of Randon were unforgiving when it came to their desire for stealth.
Once inside the base, he would obviously assist in bringing the whole operation down safely, but he wasn’t needed for this. If he could just stay strong enough to conceal the troops successfully on their way to the base, he wouldn’t be endangering anyone if he collapsed inside. Besides maybe himself.
But truly, he’d rather do that than reveal his seizures to either Obi-Wan or Ahsoka.
With a harsh clench of his jaw, Anakin made his choice.
-
The zig-zag had bled into both sides of his vision by the time they snuck into the incomplete building through one of the back doors.
It went on to pulse wildly as he, Obi-Wan and Cody reached the main control room, where they were meant to shut down every security measure so that the rest of the troops could start damaging the structure and taking out a large part of the Separatists.
Anakin stumbled over the threshold and swiftly bit back the gasp that threatened to leave him. He stared at his companions’ backs cautiously from where they already worked at the control panels. Obi-Wan’s head was gone underneath the distortion, along with the largest part of the room.
They didn’t turn around, and Anakin breathed a sigh, hands gripping the doorframe as he hung his head for a moment, exhausted. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, aware of his hair falling onto his forehead and feeling a startling urge to cry.
He didn’t want to have another seizure.
He was scared.
Cody and Obi-Wan spoke to each other softly about the plan, and Anakin swallowed the childlike emotion back, determined to make it out of this Separatist station before breaking down. He stood tall and joined his Master and the Commander at the panel, eyes sweeping over the screens.
“Any idea how to shut down the alarm features on these exits, Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s finger fell on multiple places on the building’s map. “Ahsoka, Appo and Boil need to get from there to there in order to shut down that area without locking themselves into a room with enemies.”
“Yes. I know,” Anakin snapped, unable to help himself past the fire in his skull. His fingers flew over the panel swiftly as he tilted his head to be able to see it properly past the visual migraine, navigating his way around the advanced system. The Seppies had upped their game, that was for sure, but Anakin wasn’t bothered.
Soon, he was able to shut the alarms down. He looked at Obi-Wan. The man’s face vanished due to the zig-zag, and Anakin fought the urge to look to the side so that he could see Obi-Wan’s expression out of his side vision. He’d just look like an idiot if he would go spinning around his eyes.
“You took care of the rest?” he questioned, satisfied when he was able to make out a nod from Obi-Wan past the distortion. The largest part of his work here was finished, and none too soon: he could feel the seizure creeping closer. The only problem was his unwanted company: Obi-Wan and Cody.
“Let’s make our way down, Generals. Rex could use the help in the main hall,” Cody suggested, putting his helmet on. Obi-Wan was quick to agree and fell into step next to his Commander.
Anakin stayed put at the control panel. Black spotted his vision. “I…” he floundered for a way to separate himself from the two other men, who looked at him questioningly from the doorway. “I think I saw something in the codes about a last minute safety measure, some sort of an emergency protocol,” he blurted out. “I don’t know what triggers it, but I think I can find out. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes. Go help the troops, I’ll be right behind you.”
The words were eerily similar to what he’d told Obi-Wan weeks ago.
Cody and Obi-Wan shared a look.
“I can stay with General Skywalker—”
“No,” he interrupted Cody, growing a little desperate as his head grew heavy. “I think I can handle myself, thank you, Commander.”
Obi-Wan’s furrowed brows remained, but he nodded. “Alright then, turn off the emergency protocol and come find us in the main hall immediately. May the Force be with you, Padawan.”
“And with you, Master.”
-
He shut the door as soon as Obi-Wan and Cody had rounded the corner and stepped back to the control panel, intending to sit on the chair there. Maybe if he just took a little breather, if he could rest his legs—
But his knees buckled just as he got close. Alarm sharpened the Force around him as he fell forward, the glinting edge of the console rapidly coming closer until his head snapped against it.
Pain flared, white-hot and agonizing.
He slumped to the ground, fingers twitching without his consent. Frantically, he tried to push himself up, but soon found himself unable to even lift his face off the ice-smooth floor. Limbs that felt foreign to him jerked, drool slipping past numb lips.
His body was a mere shell of pain and uncontrollable tremors. Muscles contracted irregularly, legs jerking without restraint.
He wanted to cry and scream, but couldn’t find the control necessary to do so. Instead, he called out wildly in the Force, the consequences of this not yet registering in his brain. He just wanted someone to stop this. He wanted Obi-Wan.
His vision blacked out.
-
Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate when he felt his former Padawan yank at the remaining strands of their once beautifully woven bond.
He turned on his heels, leaving a bewildered and concerned Cody to run after him as he followed the visceral cry. It had died out by now, their connection withering back into silence, but this did nothing to soothe Obi-Wan’s thumping worry.
He shouldn’t have left Anakin alone, he couldn’t help but think as he ran back to the control room. It had been clear that the young man—the boy—hadn’t been fully focussed. Something was going on with him, that much was obvious. He just didn’t trust his (former) Master with it. Not anymore.
He released these thoughts for the moment. Firstly, he needed to make sure Anakin was alright. His Force presence had dulled exponentially; a writhing, torn signature replacing the usual wild, bright energy Anakin exuded.
Finally, he reached the hallway where they had left Anakin. He slammed the door open, Cody hot on his heels, to find a sight he was sure would haunt his nightmares for years to come.
Anakin was on the ground, near the console. He was unconscious, thrashing on the floor madly, blood on his forehead.
He was no longer a skilled general, at that moment. No longer an overly confident Jedi. No longer his Padawan, no longer his friend. He was only that demonic, writhing figure pouring terror straight into Obi-Wan’s soul.
The boy continued to convulse, whole body shaking fiercely.
He’s dying, Obi-Wan thought then, senselessly. He was frozen in the doorway, just staring at the jerking mess of limbs on the floor. My Padawan is dying. He thought he might be having a nightmare. This couldn’t be true. What could have done this to his steadfast boy? Just a minute ago, they’d been talking. About—about the mission. And the emergency protocol. Anakin had been fine.
Cody pushed past him roughly, kneeling and turning Anakin to his side immediately. This revealed a larger part of Anakin’s face to Obi-Wan. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, eyelids fluttering in the same rampant way as the rest of him. Blood was seeping down his forehead, originating from a deep slice near his hairline. It mingled with the drool on his chin.
“General, give me your cloak,” Cody barked, leaving no room for argument, and the direct command snapped Obi-Wan out of his frigid state. Ignoring his own shaking hands, he shrugged out of his outer robes and handed them to his Commander. He stood closer, now. Could see the red smear on the edge of the panel, the white of Anakin’s eyes, the faded scar on his chin.
Cody folded the robes and stuffed them underneath Anakin’s head.
Why hadn’t he thought of that, Obi-Wan questioned, feeling utterly pathetic. Why couldn’t he help his Padawan? Why could he never protect him?
He eyed the gloved prosthetic hand spasming on the ground—his fault—and fell to his knees to grasp it. What his intent was, he wasn’t sure. Maybe to smooth out the spasms, to hold Anakin until the horrible contractions came to a halt.
Cody stopped him with an unwavering hand to the chest. “He’s having a seizure, Obi-Wan. You can’t hold him down. We have to wait until it’s over and time the duration.” As he spoke, Obi-Wan felt increasingly incapable.
Cody turned on his comm. “This is Commander Cody of the 212th, number CC-2224, reporting a medical incident regarding Jedi General Anakin Skywalker of the 501st. The General is suffering a seizure, currently at least 45 seconds and counting. Requesting immediate medical assistance in control room A1 and a report of the General’s previous medical history concerning any relations to seizures. Emergency clearance code ME112.”
Obi-Wan listened to it as if it was spoken in a foreign language, only the occasional word bleeding through the haze.
Jedi General Anakin Skywalker….seizure….immediate medical assistance.…medical history.…seizures
His breath hitched painfully as the sweltering realization set in.
Anakin was having a seizure, and Obi-Wan, in his panic, hadn’t recognized it. What if Cody hadn’t been here to stop him from hurting his Padawan further, to count the seconds down until the coiled muscles finally unwound?
The response to Cody’s message came quickly. “Medical officer Kix of the 501st responding, number CT-6116. Help is en route. The subject has experienced one definite and two suspected seizures before. The most recent one occurred approximately one month ago, lasting 50 seconds. Cause is yet to be discovered, brain scans and tests at the Jedi Temple yielded little results. More details are being sent over now. Requesting an update on Skywalker’s condition.”
Obi-Wan felt hollow. A month ago. Just when Anakin had fallen ‘ill’.
Why had his Padawan kept this from him?
When the convulsions came to a definite stop, Cody looked down at his holowatch. “That was a minute and three seconds since we found him. If we count from the second you… felt him in the Force,” the soldier looked quizzical about this, as all clones did whenever the Force was brought up. “Then it would be around a minute and 40 seconds.”
“Is that too long?” Obi-Wan asked, not remembering much from his own mandatory medical classes from ten years ago. He put a cautious hand on Anakin’s flesh one, looking at Cody as if asking for permission.
“No, it’s quite a typical length for a seizure. The other seizure he apparently experienced was a short one. You can touch him now, but keep him on his side. It clears his airways and prevents choking.”
Obi-Wan clutched his Padawan’s warm hand with a childlike eagerness as Cody updated Kix on the situation. He pushed a finger against Anakin’s wrist, unable to help himself. He needed to feel that he was alive, that it truly had been a seizure and that it was over now.
His mind raced with questions as he stared down at Anakin’s slack face. About his other seizures, about why he had kept this from him, about whether he’d known this seizure was coming up and had come along on the mission anyway.
(His reckless, amazing, stupid Padawan.)
He felt angry, somewhere deep down, but mostly his heart ached with regret and sorrow.
Cody was plastering a bacta patch onto Anakin’s forehead when the boy’s eyes began to open. It looked as though even the mere motion of moving his eyelids hurt due to a deep exhaustion.
A weak groan slipped past Anakin’s lips, and his eyes lazily moved from Cody’s face to Obi-Wan’s. It reminded Obi-Wan terribly of how he had always looked like when he’d needed to wake up for his early classes.
“O…bi-W’n,” he slurred, the word heavy with fatigue. His eyes grew wet, and Obi-Wan felt a burning cavity in his chest at the sight. When was the last time that his Padawan had cried in front of him?
Cody emphatically stepped back, allowing him to sit closer by Anakin’s side. Obi-Wan didn’t release the boy’s hand, but did let one hand go to cup it around Anakin’s cheek. “You’re alright, Padawan. You’re okay.”
“Kix said to tell him what happened and where he is, Sir,” Cody piped up from behind him.
He nodded, but swallowed thickly, feeling hesitant to speak the words to Anakin. Illogically, he didn’t want to scare the boy. But that was absurd, because Anakin had experienced this before. He had known about it. It was Obi-Wan who had been scared, so scared he’d frozen instead of jumping in to help.
He took a breath. “You had a moderate seizure, Anakin. We are on Randon, in the control room.” He wavered, not sure just how much he needed to tell the boy. Did he even remember who Obi-Wan was, or who Cody was? Did he remember who he was?
Why don’t I know this stuff, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think, frustrated with himself.
“Do you remember?” He settled on asking when Anakin merely blinked.
He received a sluggish hum.
Obi-Wan’s hand ran over the side of Anakin’s clammy face, coming to a rest on the curve of his jaw. With his thumb, he rubbed slow circles on his Padawan’s cheek. Short stubble was rough underneath his fingertips. “Dear one?”
“I’m…fine,” Anakin breathed, leaning into his touch.
He ignored his frustration, very aware of his Padawan’s tendency to understate his injuries, and regretting having passed that certain habit of his own onto Anakin. “You had a seizure,” he said, not sure how else to make it known to Anakin that he couldn’t just wave Obi-Wan’s attention away, this time.
“S’rry,” Anakin slurred, causing Obi-Wan’s heart to clench. “Are you…” he inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering. Obi-Wan, suddenly unable to bear looking at Anakin’s drool and blood stained face, gently nudged a corner of the robe out from under the younger Jedi’s head and wiped it down his skin. He dabbed the fabric down carefully around the wound, not wanting to bring his Padawan any more pain.
“Are you sorry?” Anakin then repeated, his speech clearer, if not still barely above a whisper. His eyes remained hazy, his Force presence a dizzying muddle of weariness and emotion.
He wasn’t fully lucid, Obi-Wan knew, and yet the question hurt more than any glare or insult could. He knew Anakin was talking about Rako Hardeen.
“I’m so sorry, young one,” he choked out, bowing over him and pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “For all of it.”
And it was the truth. He had never quite regretted anything as much as he did leaving Anakin in the dark about that mission. He was not sure their bond would ever recover.
That deception was somewhere up there with his other worst mistakes and failures: being too useless of a Master to protect his Padawan during their duel with Dooku on Geonosis, and being too useless of a Padawan to protect his own Master from being killed on Naboo.
Anakin didn’t seem satisfied with his apology. He reached a slow hand up to tug at the front of Obi-Wan’s tabards. “D’nt,” he mumbled.
Obi-Wan didn’t know what that meant, and didn’t get the chance to ask, because Kix then stormed into the room with a professional urgency. Two other clones came in behind him, carrying a portable stretcher.
They hurried to examine Anakin’s state, and Obi-Wan was forced to let go of him and step back. Cody put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“We’ve already called in the fleet to get here as soon as possible, General, Commander,” a secondary medic called Swish informed them. “He will be sent back to Coruscant again soon for further examination.”
Cody nodded and said something back when Obi-Wan didn’t reply, too busy staring at his Padawan, who was listlessly talking to Kix. Rex had appeared as well, saying something to Anakin before coming to stand with Cody and Obi-Wan.
“General Kenobi,” he began, separating them from Cody and Swish, who were still discussing the mission. “I understand you might want to know more about Skywalker’s situation. He has given consent to you being informed.”
Obi-Wan pulled his gaze away from Anakin to regard the clone Captain sharply. “You knew?” he couldn’t help but ask, affronted. He realized, belatedly, that Kix had already known as well; hence the thin lie about Anakin’s illness.
“Yes, Sir,” Rex confessed, shifting uncomfortably. “The General did not previously give his permission for many people to know about his… condition.”
Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched. Of course Anakin had done such an imbecilic thing. “Who all knows?”
“Besides Kix and I, only a handful of Jedi healers and Council members.”
Sighing, Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face. “Alright then,” he said.
“Tell me everything.”