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“General?”
Obi-Wan lifted his head up, just enough to see the light spilling in from the door, and tried for a smile, knowing it looked more like a grimace. “Wooley,” he murmured. “How can… how can I help you?”
His voice was shot, but the words were still fairly intelligible. Cody, beside him, made an annoyed noise, tugging a blanket over his head and rolling further into the dark corner of the room.
Wooley winced, and lowered his voice. “General Skywalker should be here in an hour, sir,” he reported. “How are you holding up?”
Obi-Wan shifted, and blinked heavily at the rasp of his skin against the rough blankets. Force, what he’d give to be back at the Temple right now -
“We’re holding on,” he said mildly, and Wooley nodded.
“Stim told me that you need to drink more water,” he said quietly, and Obi-Wan heard the clatter of plastibottles against the floor, the noise loud in his over-sensitive ears. “Feel better, sir.”
With that, Wooley closed the door, and Obi-Wan groaned, letting his head hit the pillow again. Cody echoed the noise, and Obi-Wan lifted his arm to let his Commander weave his way into his side, trapped under his arm until they were pressed chest to back.
It still didn’t feel close enough. Obi-Wan wanted to practically crawl into Cody’s skin, the touch-hunger was so bad, and he bit back a pathetic mewl of distress in his throat. So many things were wrong, around him. Only Cody was there. The blankets were rough, and he was laying on the floor of a storage room on thin mattresses and he felt so hot -
Obi-Wan pulled his thoughts together, and pressed his forehead to Cody’s back. He took a shaky breath.
Whatever reaction he and his Commander had to the pollen in the air in that Force-forsaken cave, it was so close to one of his regular heats that Obi-Wan almost itched for his suppressants. But instead of the firery passion his heats normally filled him with, he was left instead with a blaze of despair burning black inside of him, only held at bay by Cody beside him, and even that was - well.
His mind, his body, his soul - all of it was screaming out for his family, for his pack, to be safe and around him and they weren’t here and they weren’t safe -
So. Yes. He was not feeling rather well, all things considered, and Cody was doing no better. They were mostly quarantined in this storage room for now, to stop… whatever this was from spreading to more of the vode.
Jango Fett was human. The vode did not have a secondary sex, not like how Obi-Wan did. Well - that wasn’t surprising, really. Presentations were rare to an extreme in the wider Galaxy. Obi-Wan hadn’t even known what they were until he turned thirteen, on Melida/Daan, and went through the worst set of months in his life - on top of, you know, the whole fighting a war thing. Stewjoni were rare. Obi-Wan didn’t know any other members of his own species, and he knew no other omegas, no alphas. Well - he knew that Maul was an omega, but he wasn’t exactly about to seek the Sith out for advice.
Very few species had secondary sexes, as he said - Force, his mind felt cloudy, like he’d been sitting in a hot bath for hours. Stewjoni had them. Dathomirians had them, the Nightsisters magic twisting all Nightsisters into alphas and all Nightbrothers into omegas. A few other species, across the wide universe.
It was isolating, sometimes. Obi-Wan almost thought of his presentation like a chronic illness - a flare-up every few months, where he would take his medication and lock himself away in his rooms until the urges passed. But he was atypical even in this, of course - his body, as always, rarely gave him a break - and so he felt some of the effects of his nature even outside of his heats. His struggles with attachment, his need for touch, his medical issues - all were tied back to it, in some fashion.
Whatever pollen he and Cody had breathed in was pulling those second issues to the forefront. Cody, as someone who did not have a secondary sex presentation, was merely feverish and uncomfortable when not in contact with someone else. Obi-Wan had passed him off to the medics earlier, in the hopes of his Commander feeling more comfortable with his kin, but Cody’s vitals had spiked whenever he was too far away from Obi-Wan, and their half-assed quarantine left them here, in the storage room, draped in uncomfortable blankets and itchy clothes.
Obi-Wan, on the other hand, quite possibly felt the worst he’d ever felt in his entire life. His entire being felt like he was burning from the inside out. Every five minutes, he got a ping on his comm from the monitoring bracelet Pyre had affixed to him that his heart rate was too high and that he should attempt calming breaths. His breathing was sharp and shallow, and he was shivering despite the heat, aching to be touched, to be held, but even this contact with Cody wasn’t yet helping.
After an hour of this, he had given in and begged Pyre to send for Anakin, for his family. Anakin and Ahsoka were only small parts of the people he considered his , but they would - it would help. It had to help. (That had been four hours ago, and there was still an hour to go, and Obi-Wan had long since run out of tears.)
All of him yearned for home. For the quiet peace of his bedroom, his soft blankets, his nesting supplies. For his family to be within reach - Anakin, Ahsoka, Quinlan, Aalya, Bail, Breha, Padme, Qui-Gon - but he couldn’t have that, not with this war looming over their heads, no matter how much his body and mind shouted out for it.
He curled up on himself, tucked his head against Cody’s spine, and tried his best to fall asleep despite the agony of his yearning.
“Kriff,” he heard, on the very edges of his hearing. The voice was familiar, but Obi-Wan didn’t recognize it, his brain melting out his ears and leaving him drowning in soup. “How long has he been like this?”
“He was more cognizant before he fell asleep,” another familiar voice responded. “I came out of it a little bit ago, and he was… well.” Fingers rubbed against Obi-Wan’s cheek, and he hummed, turning into the touch lazily. “Worse.”
A light hand touched his wrist. “He’s really warm,” a higher voice mumbled. “Do we need to get his fever down?”
“No, this is normal. It’s a pseudo-heat, like I told you,” the first voice said again. “He’s had one before. Pyre and Kix think that the pollen triggered one. He’ll be okay, Snips.”
Snips. Snips, snips, snips. He knew that nickname.
He knew that voice.
Obi-Wan peeled his eyes open, and stared up in the bleary face of his padawan and grandpadawan, sitting next to him - and oh, Cody was there too, and Rex -
He gave a contented hum, and wormed in closer to Anakin, wrapping his arms around his padawan’s waist. His clothes were soft, and Obi-Wan rubbed his jaw up against the fabric. In fact, everything was soft now - the lights, dimmed, the sound duller, the blankets softer. He was even laying on a whole pile of mattresses.
“Hello, Master,” Anakin said gently, running a hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. “It’s alright,” he soothed. “We’re all right here.”
Obi-Wan hummed again, and clicked, the noise high and reedy in the back of his throat. Ahsoka’s eyes widened in surprise, but Anakin didn’t flinch, used to the noise. “Yes, yes, you’re comfy,” Anakin said cheerfully. “C’mon, Obi-Wan, time for water.”
Obi-Wan growled at him, and Ahsoka bared her teeth back, which only prompted him to growl delightedly back at her, and they went back and forth like this as Cody fetched water from… somewhere and handed it to him, cap already off.
Obi-Wan interrupted the growling competition to take a sip, and then he drank the bottle in one long pull, tossing it aside as he chirped with contentment. He pressed himself back against the cushions behind him, and snagged Anakin and Ahsoka, pulling them close. They went along with his movements easily, and Obi-Wan tucked them into the nest he was building, pillows and blankets placed just so as his brain nagged at him.
He corralled Rex and Cody in as well, and then sat in the middle feeling sleepy and warm and content, surrounded by family and friends and pack . He chirped again, and then tucked himself away so that he was pressed between all of them, hands resting upon various parts of his sleep-robe as he curled up.
The light dimmed and then darkened, and Obi-Wan let the contentment carry him away into sleep.
(He did not wake up again, not truly, for a very long time.)
Burning. He was burning. From the inside to the outside, his skin blistering and cracking as he writhed and screamed. He needed - water, water, coolant, for the pain to end, for the burning to stop, for the lava to recede, for Vader to back off, for for for for -
“We need to get to Coruscant. His fever keeps rising, and nothing’s helping - he’ll die, General Skywalker. We need to get him back to the Temple. If it triggers a seizure…”
Shivering. Cold, so cold, from his bones to his scalp, goosebumps and shivering and crying. The nights were cold in the desert, and they were cold in space, and he was gone and away forever -
“I need more hands over here - Obi-Wan, you’re alright, you just had a seizure, you’re okay… kriff, can someone get the lorazepam already?”
Pain. Pain, so much pain. Everywhere. Everything. All there was was this. All there was was pain and screaming, lightning through his senses, his mind, his soul -
“No, don’t touch that - you just need some help breathing, Obi-Wan, you’re alright. It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re all right here. Kix, can you increase the sedation -“
Light, and dark. Cold, and heat. Pain, and silence.
“How much longer until we reach Coruscant?”
Silence, silence, silence -
“I don’t know if he has that long, Anakin.”
Darkness. For so long, only darkness.
“We’ve done all we can, Commander. After this, it’s up to him. You’re welcome to remain in the Temple for as long as it takes, and even past that point.”
Light.
“Come back to us, Obi-Wan. We’re all here. We love you. Take your time.”
A voice filtered in through his brain, first. A soft voice, familiar and warm. Reading. Reading… to him?
“Single-, double-, or triple-bases (depending on the number of primary ingredients) are homogeneous mixtures of one to three primary ingredients. These primary ingredients must include fuel and oxidizer and often also include binders and plasti - uh, how do you say that, plasti - plasticizers…”
A snort. “That part’s outdated,” a deeper voice corrected. “They don’t use plasticizers anymore.”
“But it’s in the book -“
“And the book’s wrong, Snips.”
“You didn’t even take this class!”
A chuckle, deep and fond. “Kid, I could re-write the book. C’mon, put that drivel away, I brought something more interesting.”
Pages, flipping. “He loves this one,” that same voice confided. “Alright, where were we - ah. ‘Late after daybreak, in those quiet hours of the morning, Lorence and Fairo found themselves taking comfort in the embrace of each others arms. Weighed down not by exhaustion, but by the tender love they shared, they exchanged quiet greetings, the noise almost stolen away by the roar of the storm outside. Were anyone else present, they would have hid their affection for one another, but in that timely moment -“
“Master, are you reading a romance novel?”
Laughter, clear as a bell and just as friendly. “If you hadn’t realized your Grandmaster’s a sap by now, Snips, there’s no hope for you.”
Slander. Lies and slander.
Obi-Wan hummed, tongue clumsy and his eyes refusing to open, and the voices paused.
A hand, rubbing on his shoulder.
“Hey there, Master,” Anakin’s voice said softly. “You’re alright. We’re in the Temple. You’re really sick, but it’s okay, you’re gonna be fine. I promise. We’re right here.”
He still couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes, but he twitched his fingers, and Anakin’s voice lit up with a smile. “Take all the time you need,” Anakin said. “There’s no rush.”
“Yeah,” he heard Ahsoka chime, “The war -“
“’Soka,” Anakin reprimanded. “Don’t worry about it, Master,” he said next. “We’re all safe, and everything’s going to be okay.”
Through the clouded Force, Obi-Wan could feel the truth of that statement, and he let the exhaustion drag him under with the knowledge that whatever was going on, he was safe.
Noise.
Singing?
Singing. Loud singing, off-key but joyful.
“ And I would walk five-thousand klicks and I would walk - “
“Kriff, Rex, give it a rest,” a fond voice chimed. “Your singing would be enough to drive anyone to unconsciousness.”
“It’s not that bad,” Rex pouted. Cody - his Commander, his friend, his family, pack pack pack - huffed, in the distance.
Ahsoka sounded amused. “I’m not even sure if that was legally considered singing.”
“Like you can do any better,” Rex retorted.
“I’ll have you know,” Ahsoka sniffed, “That you’re talking to the five-time champion of the yearly Padawan Karaoke contest, so eat your words, foul fiend.”
“Yeah?” Rex challenged. “Prove it. You’re next, aren’t you? Truth or dare -”
“Dare,” Ahsoka claimed.
“Sing your heart out.”
He did not stay awake long enough to hear the resulting cheers, but it was easy enough to imagine them.
Obi-Wan blinked. He was -
Awake. Already awake. He had been awake for - a while? A while, maybe, or maybe not. He was - warm.
Softness, all around him. Blankets. Smelled like - Temple. Soft unscented detergent. Him. Family. Pack .
Warm. Soft, and warm, and familiar. No hum of engines. No minute vibrations. Only - safety.
Something in his hands. Warm. Ceramic. Smooth.
Unbidden, his hands lifted, and he took a sip, his body operating when his mind did not. Tea. Spiced but light. Cooled just enough to avoid burning his tongue.
Voices, around him. Not talking to him, but - there. Present.
He twisted his thoughts into shape, and the voices started to coalesce into words.
“Do you have any aces?”
Anakin. Padawan, brother, family. Pack.
“Go fish,” Cody responded, completely deadpan. Commander. Friend. (More than?) Family. Pack.
“Master, how can you be so bad at this? We literally just taught them how to play.”
Ahsoka. Grandpadawan. Little sister. Family. Pack.
“Yeah, General,” Rex smirked. “There’s no need to go easy on us.” Rex. Captain. Friend. Family. Pack.
“I kriffing hate you guys,” Anakin muttered, and Obi-Wan’s attention shifted, to voices further away but still present.
The clatter of wood against a board. “And I believe that’s checkmate,” Aalya’s voice said gleefully (friend, niece, family, pack -) as Quinlan groaned.
“Can’t you go easy on me?” Quinlan demanded. “Why should you get to play white when you know I’m bad at chess?”
Quinlan, brother, friend, partner, pack -
“Don’t weaken yourself on his behalf, darling,” Padme chimed in. “You just need to get better at losing, Quinlan.” Sister-in-law, friend, family, pack -
“Says the woman who pouted for weeks after I beat her at sabacc,” Bail said - friend, family, pack, pack, pack -
Pack , his brain chanted. Safe. Happy. Here.
And there he was, in the center of it. Resting on a couch. His couch, he realized belatedly, as his eyes took in the fabric. His couch, his blankets, his pillows, supporting him and keeping him upright. His mug, held in clenched hands.
He hadn’t taken a sip in minutes.
The group playing a kid’s card game was strewn about the floor in front of him, cards splayed across the coffee table. But when Anakin glanced up, he took in the strange set of Obi-Wan’s mouth, and his own eyebrows furrowed.
“Master?” He asked. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re in the Temple. Everyone’s safe.”
Obi-Wan blinked, unsettled. His cheeks felt wet, but he wasn’t sure why.
“Hey,” Anakin’s voice said again, closer. His padawan knelt by the edge of the couch. “Obi-Wan,” he said gently. “You’re okay. We’re in the Temple. You’re sick right now, but you’re okay.”
Obi-Wan took in a gasping breath, unable to understand how - he was on his ship, he thought, and everything was wrong and he wanted so badly to be home but now he was home but how did he get here -
Anakin’s hands, on his own. Holding.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin repeated. “Deep breaths.”
The room was quiet, now, and normally Obi-Wan would have shuddered at being watched, but all he felt right now was concern and warmth and pack . He took a few deep breaths, under Anakin’s guidance, and leaned back against the pillows, exhausted by that small moment.
Anakin plucked the mug out of his hands and set it down on the table. “I know you’re scared,” his padawan said softly. “But everything’s alright. I promise, Master.”
Obi-Wan’s hands flexed against his legs as confusion filtered through him. It was so hard to speak, his tongue thick and mind clumsy, but he had to - he had to know what was going on.
“Anakin?” He murmured, voice shaky. “I don’t…”
He looked around, at his own quarters in the Temple, at his family surrounding him. “I don’t understand,” he said, a little desperately. “I was - on the Negotiator , and now…”
Anakin took up his hands again, squeezing gently, and the touch set aside some of the ache building up in his chest. “You remember the pollen,” he said, first, and Obi-Wan nodded. “You had a bad reaction to it. A - kriff,” Anakin said, shaking his head. “A really bad reaction. Your fever was so high that you were having seizures, and you were… basically in a coma, for a while.”
Obi-Wan blinked at him, lost for words. Anakin pressed onwards, mouth tight.
“We went straight back to Coruscant,” he said gently. “To get you to the Halls of Healing. You were in a coma for about a week, and you started waking up a few days ago.”
“But I don’t…” Obi-Wan shivered, unable to express the fear of losing so much time, and he felt a blanket being tucked around his shoulders. Cody, steadfast and faithful, stood behind him, a hand pressing on his shoulder.
“You’re on a lot of medication,” Anakin said softly, “To stop the seizures and the effects of the pollen. Your short term memory is a little messed up right now, but it's temporary.”
Obi-Wan shuddered. “I -“ he whispered, voice hesitant. “I don’t feel well,” he admitted. The warmth and comfort he had started with had faded to bitter cold and aching pain, dizziness rising up like the tides.
“I know, Master,” Anakin said, voice wet. “You had - your fever was really high,” he said shakily. “There’s some damage. You’re having trouble regulating your body temperature, and your balance is messed up. Healer Che’s working on treatments. But I promise, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, fervently. “It’s going to be okay.”
Despite the fear he felt, Obi-Wan could feel it was the truth. He shivered again, and then relaxed as another blanket was placed atop of him, this one seemingly heated from the inside out.
“The war,” he started, and Cody, behind him, huffed.
“It’s over,” his Commander said, and Obi-Wan squeaked.
“Cody -“ Anakin hissed, and Cody sighed.
“He wants to know, Skywalker.” Cody stepped over the back of the couch and sat down, leaning against Obi-Wan’s side with casual grace. “It was an assassination attempt,” he told Obi-Wan. “The pollen, I mean. The flower it came from wasn’t native to that planet, it was from Naboo, and it’s known for causing fatal reactions in species with secondary sexes.”
Obi-Wan hummed, tired brain attempting to piece together that tidbit of information. “Naboo?”
“Naboo,” Cody confirmed. “It’s rare, too. Senator Amidala was the one who recognized it.”
“Well,” Padme called out, “I wasn’t going to let him die .”
Padme stood and stepped closer to him, perching on Anakin’s lap, ignoring how he started to flush a vibrant red. “Chancellor Palpatine attempted to assassinate you,” she said plainly, and Obi-Wan’s eyes widened as he froze. “He planted the flowers there. He knew about your presentation because of Anakin’s past confessions to him. Which he’s very apologetic about -“ Anakin flushed even deeper, “- and will never do again,” she continued, “Because - well, Palpatine was the Sith Lord, it turns out, and he’s dead now, so…”
“I’m sorry?” Obi-Wan said faintly.
Padme nodded. “Dead,” she said cheerfully. “As a doornail.” She stopped, and tilted her head. “Maybe not a doornail. More like ash. He kind of… disintegrated.”
“You were… there?”
Everyone around him seemed to sigh except for Padme, who only smiled more brightly. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I killed him.”
Obi-Wan blinked.
Blinked again.
“Well, good for you,” he said faintly.
“He tried to kill you. You’re family. Once I put the pieces together, it was a fairly simple decision to make.” She smiled, teeth somehow looking sharper than before. “The Senate’s a mess right now, of course, but the war ended once Count Dooku sent in his surrender.”
“Huh,” Obi-Wan said numbly.
Anakin rolled his eyes and squeezed Obi-Wan’s hands again. “That aside,” he said, with a mock glare at Padme and Cody who were fairly unrepentant, “You’re safe,” he continued. “We’re all safe, and here, and you’re going to be okay.”
Obi-Wan let his eyes slide shut, exhausted.
Anakin spoke again. “And I’ll repeat that as many times as you need me to,” his padawan-brother-family- pack said. There was a soft kiss to his forehead, and Obi-Wan let sleep rise up once again to tug him under.
In the weeks that followed, Obi-Wan went from staying awake in minute-long intervals to hour-long intervals, and then managed to piece together fragmented recollections into coherent memories. The pain of his frayed bonds eventually faded, though for weeks he could barely let Anakin out of his sight. The pain of his weakened limbs remained, though Healer Che seemed rather devoted to beating it out of him as he endured session after session of physical therapy to regain the strength he had lost during his long convalescence.
Things came back to him slowly. His memory, first, and then his ability to focus. His way with words came slower, but it came. He managed a steady grip on his ‘saber once again, and rejoiced in the flowing penmanship of his calligraphy, letters spilling out to be distributed amongst the stars.
Some things did not return. His balance, formerly fine, was now best described as a drunk tooka kit attempting to walk on a tight rope, but the cane that Anakin crafted for him was both a boon - he could catch himself when the world tilted, and ease some of the ache on his joints - and an amusement, given the various features his padawan had stuffed into the thing. Especially amusing was the laser-powered hot water heater that made preparing tea as easy as aiming it and hoping.
His body refused to take a hint about how to process temperatures, but this too was manageable. His many layers of robes were now both a practical and comforting choice, and Cody slipped in hot water bottles into his bedsheets, and knit pair after pair of clumsy socks as the vode took up hobbies in their newly found downtime.
The seizures, thankfully, did not return in full force, although he found himself having moments of blankness. But even in those moments, he was safe, for his family was around him, and he knew - knew - that they would catch him when he fell.
Bail took up the position of Interim Chancellor. Peace was negotiated and ratified. Anakin confessed to the Council that yes, he had gotten married, but he truly didn’t want to stop being a Jedi and leave his home -
His padawan was on probation, but seemed happier for it. Padme seemed happier as well, swelling with adoration and - well, child. Quinlan and Aalya settled.
Rex took up new hobbies, like annoying Master Yoda, and racing younglings through the halls on hover-trikes.
Cody never did get very good at socks, though Obi-Wan wore the scarves he made every day.
The galaxy kept spinning, and Obi-Wan kept living, and life was safe, and it was warm, and it was his .