#oc 212th clone medic skull

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

rip skull (the clone and obi-wan’s)

Part Eleven of 212th Medic Skull Has Had Enough on ao3

| Part two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Summary:

Obi-Wan is concussed, it’s Cody’s fault, and Skull doesn’t have time for this banthashit.

(Or, another follow-up to Skull's infamous run-in with the 212th's newest secret couple. This time, Obi-Wan get's a concussion at a party and as a result, the rest of the 212th gets in on the secret)

Word Count: 4,000 (exactly)

Skull received the text comm message at two in the morning from Waxer. He was awake– of course– because he couldn’t sleep knowing that he was going to be called anyway. That’s what usually happened when the 212th were involved. 

It had been decided by Waxer and Boil’s one collective brain cell that there would be a celebration in the Negotiator’s refectory to celebrate the destruction of the droid factory on Corellia. It was the same factory where Skywalker had destroyed the kriffing Sith artifact that had brought Kenobi to his knees, so Skull hadn’t been opposed to its disintegration. 

However, he wasn’t exactly on board with a planned celebration that Waxer said would involve–  getting karking wasted– and that was it. 

Skull wasn’t exactly the– getting karking wasted–  type, so he had respectfully passed. Regardless, he knew as well as anyone, where alcohol was involved, someone would get injured and at least one medic would have to be in their right mind if that happened. 

So, Skull took to his quarters and set about reading an article he had discovered on a newly developed form of bacta treatment.

Hours later, the first comm came in.

General. Come get.

Skull’s eyebrows rose as he eyed the message attempting to decipher it before he sent a response. It either was an attempt to trick him into going to the party, or a very poor attempt at describing an injury.

What? Why?

He settled on the question, hoping he would get a response before he started pulling on clothes. To his surprise, within seconds, a response appeared. 

Can you get him? Think Cody broke him.

Skull audibly groaned and shuffled underneath his sheets where he had settled in bed for the evening. 

Fine. Get him sitting or something, please. 

Skull sent his response and pulled on a set of blacks and some boots. He took his medkit from where he had tucked it by the door, and began the fairly long walk from the medical wing down to the refectory. 

The roar of music and men yelling could be heard from far down the long hallway, reminding Skull once again how much he enjoyed the serene silence his own quarters had to offer. He hoped he would only have to deal with it for a few minutes, probably drag Kenobi back to his quarters to sleep off the alcohol.

Turning the corner into the refectory, Skull frowned. The room was dark except for the glow of red and orange lights that had been strung around the room. Pounding music that Skull could feel deep in his chest filled the room guiding the movements of many of the vode where they swayed in the center of the makeshift dance floor.

He peered around the dark room, ignoring the odd comment about how he finally decided to show up, and tried to find the General. That failing, he looked for Waxer instead, finding him across the room standing beside a long table that was filled with the various spoils of the 212th’s missions to different planets and cities. 

Waxer laughed loudly, breaking away from the group that surrounded him, and stumbled toward Skull with a sloshing Trandoshan ale in hand. 

“Skully!”

Yeah, he was wasted. Waxer knew Skull would handcuff him to his medical bed if he used that name on any ordinary occasion. 

Skull took a step back, shielding his blacks from the splashes of ale that slid over sides, “Woah, how about you just– stand still.” 

Waxer obliged for the most part, save for swaying where he stood, giddy smile spread across his face. “Sorry.” He slurred out and Skull held back another sigh.

“Where’s the General?” He asked pointedly, still eyeing the perimeter of the room for a sign of him. 

“He’s right over–” Waxer pointed toward the far side of the room where several tables had been pushed against the wall, then frowned. The General wasn’t there. “Or, um, he used to be there?” 

Skull rubbed a hand over his forehead, cursing himself for not just coming to keep an eye on things anyway; it would probably have made his life easier. 

“Do you think he left? Was anyone with him?” Skull asked, doing a final sweep of the space and finding that the General was not, in fact, in the refectory. 

“I don’t know… Cody?” Waxer shrugged, frowned, and waved his arm toward the door. “Guess someone better find him.”

“Amazing train of thought, Waxer.” Skull grumbled and turned on his heel. 

He headed in the direction of Kenobi’s quarters figuring it was a good start. Though he hadn’t seen the General, much less Cody, drunk before, he figured that neither would let themselves get drunk enough they weren’t semi-aware. Hopefully, that meant one of them had made the rational decision to get to their quarters. 

Skull walked for some time, listening for any chatter in the halls and checking in empty rooms to no avail. He was close to giving up, and instead heading in the direction of Cody’s quarters instead when he heard a loud thump, and an equally loud groan from up ahead. 

Raising an eyebrow, Skull headed in that direction, preparing himself for an inevitable sight. 

He rounded the corner and nearly tripped over something on the floor before he steadied himself and took a step back. 

On the floor, General Kenobi sat with his back pinned to the wall, knees raised to his chest, and head hanging downward. Beside him, Cody sat with an arm extended, tissue in hand. He was pressing the tissue against a bloody gash that grazed the side of Obi-Wan’s forehead. 

“Skull?” Cody murmured, eyes hazy when he looked up at Skull.

“Yeah that’s me. What the hell happened?” He crouched down, placing his kit on the floor.

Obi-Wan didn’t move, just kept his head lowered between his knees. Skull opened his kit, already reaching for gauze to replace the tissue. 

“Um–” Cody averted his eyes, then closed them, “I don’t think I wanna say.” The words were slurred out, indicating Cody had more to drink than he usually did. Skull was confused by the answer. 

“Why not?” He asked, then gently tapped on Kenobi’s shoulder, earning a groan from the man. 

“Just– don’t want to say.” Cody answered in a whisper, head lolling to the side and eyes closing. Cody was tired– clearly– and Skull was beginning to think he wouldn’t be useful at all when it came to extracting information. Instead, he decided to focus his attention on Kenobi.

“Cody, can you hold this against his head instead?” He held out the gauze. Cody took it and and shakily placed it against the still mildly bleeding wound. Skull wasn’t worried, it looked like it was beginning to clot, but before he could use bacta, it needed to stop. “And Sir, can you look at me?”

Skull touched Obi-Wan’s shoulder again with a gentle hand, trying to coax him to look up. 

Another groan.

Skull waited a moment, contemplating trying to press his hand underneath the General’s chin to pull his head upward, but Kenobi very slowly began to raise his head. 

Skull wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t for the General to look so… confused?

“Erm– Skull?” Kenobi asked innocently, almost like he had not heard the conversation Skull and Cody had been having over his head for several minutes. He was squinting, not quite looking at Skull’s eyes. Blurry vision, Skull made a mental note.

“Yes. Sir, how are you feeling? You have quite the gash there.” Skull pointed toward the gash where Cody still held the gauze. Skull was sure it was done bleeding, but if it was keeping Cody occupied for the time being, he wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“...not good.” Kenobi answered after a long pause, and shifted uncomfortably.

Great. Wonderful detailed description Kenobi.

Skull sighed, “In what way, General?” He hoped whatever effect the alcohol was having on the conversation wasn’t going to render Kenobi as useless as Cody had been.

“Don’t feel good,” Kenobi repeated, then, without warning, turned away from Cody and vomited just a few inches away from Skull’s shoes.

Oh kriffing hells. 

Skull held his breath for a second waiting for a second retch, but thankfully, it didn’t come and Kenobi sat back up slightly. Cody looked on with something like confusion, sympathy, and disgust written on his face. Skull knew the Commander didn’t have a particularly high tolerance for watching others vomit.

“Cody, go over there and comm a janitor.” Skull demanded, pointing down the hall. Cody didn’t move for a moment, then seemed to decide getting away from the alcoholic smelling vomit was a better idea.

With him out of the way, Skull pulled out the extra disposable towels he kept in his medkit and placed a few over top of the puddle and used another to wipe Kenobi’s lips off. Usually he would hand it over to the General himself, but it didn’t seem like Kenobi was very much in control of his own movements. 

Well, at least he knew one of the symptoms included in not feeling good. 

Making quick work with the tube of bacta and a small bandage, Skull covered the gash on the side of Kenobi’s head.

“Alright, General. Other than nausea, why else don’t you feel good? What hurts?” He simplified the question, hoping a direct answer might result. 

“Just–” Kenobi cleared his throat, and screwed his eyes shut, “It’s bright.” He settled on after a moment. “Head hurts. ” 

“Did you hit your head? Is that how you got that?” Skull pointed at the gash and Kenobi looked confused.

“What?” He reached up and touched his head, “Oh.” 

“Did you hit your head?” Skull asked again and Kenobi looked no less confused, so Skull turned toward Cody who now stood looming over the two of them, already done with comming the janitor. “Cody– did he hit his head pretty hard?” Skull repeated to the Commander.

“Yes.” Finally, a straight answer. 

Skull had already made the mental conclusion that what he was most likely looking at was a concussion, but it helped to have an explanation for how it happened. 

“How hard? And against what?” Cody swayed on his feet and stared at Skull with a wide-eyed, unblinking expression. 

“Um– yes hard.” Skull looked at him expectantly, and cleared his own throat.

“Alright,” Skull began when Cody offered no further explanation; he was going to have to ask again once they had gotten the General back to his quarters and comfortable before he tried to ask again, “Help me get him up, then. We need to get him laying down before I head back to the medbay for a stretcher.” 

Cody’s eyes somehow got even wider, “A stretcher?” He slurred out. 

“Yes– seems he’s got a concussion. I’ll need to run a scan on him to see if there is any bleeding in his brain.” 

“He’s not bleeding anymore.” Cody said. Skull ran a palm over his face and ignored the drunk idiocy that rolled out of Cody’s mouth. Really, he wasn’t in the mood. 

“Just– help me.” Skull demanded, and hooked a hand under Obi-Wan’s armpit, coercing Cody into doing the same.

Obi-Wan immediately scrunched his eyes closed, a slight whimper emerging from him as soon as they lifted him into a standing position. “Feeling alright, Sir?” Skull asked, though he knew the answer was probably no.

“Dizzy.” Kenobi answered and kept his eyes shut. “Need’a sit.” His words came out slowly, and he attempted to bat away Skull’s arm where it was hooked over his shoulders. 

“Sorry, Sir, but we need to get you to your quarters. Just a short walk away.” Skull hated to have to make him walk, but he wasn’t about to leave the drunk and concussed General on the hallway floor for anyone to see. 

In Kenobi’s own words, that would be rather undignified.

So, Skull and Cody pulled him towards his rooms. The General barely reacted, his feet unsteady beneath him as they brought him into his quarters, heading straight for the bed. 

Skull helped Kenobi to sit, demanding Cody just sit on the bed and wait for me to get back. 

He positioned a trash can between the General’s feet and quickly left to head toward the medbay to retrieve a stretcher. To his surprise, he was able to make it there and back in only twenty minutes, and in another ten, following another round of retching, they were headed toward the medbay. 

  “Cody– I’m asking again now because in about two hours you definitely won’t tell me– what the kriff happened?” Skull stood with his arms crossed just outside of the room where Obi-Wan was receiving his scan. Skull pointed to a chair when Cody stumbled over his own feet.

Cody sat heavily, an unusually dramatic sigh leaving his lips, “We didn’t mean for it to happen…” Cody muttered, words trailing off. 

“I’ll ask Waxer if you won’t say.” Skull threatened when Cody’s sentence did not continue. Skull crossed his arms over his chest and waited with as neutral of an expression as he could manage.

“Fine. Fine.” Cody began with a huff, “You know the tables? The round ones that are–” 

“Yes, Cody, I know of the karking tables in the refectory.” Cody blinked rapidly, turned his head to the side, and then continued like Skull had never interrupted.

“I guess we were um– kissing– on top of one.” Cody’s voice was quiet and his eyes were trained on the floor between his feet. Skull could hardly hold in his shock. While a number of the vode in 212th knew that Cody and the General were a couple, many did not; it wasn’t exactly advertised information. Of course, if they had been publicly making out in the refectory, now the whole kriffing 212th knew. 

Not-drunk Cody was going to have an absolute fit. 

Skull was going to have a fucking field day.

Holding in his laughter and schooling his expression, Skull continued, “And?” 

“And Obi-Wan might have… fallen off? Backwards.” While Skull was equally amused with Cody and Kenobi unintentionally outing their relationship, he wasn’t quite as amused with the information of how exactly Kenobi had sustained his concussion.

“You know, Cody, I thought you and Kenobi were a little more responsible than everyone else, but I stand corrected.” Skull said, shaking his head. He watched Cody’s lips sink into a deep frown, eyes screwed shut. 

Then, unexpectedly, Cody’s eyes opened again and tears slid down his cheeks rapidly. He sniffled and wiped away the tears with the backs of his hands. 

If Skull had been shocked before, he was even more shocked now. 

Cody was a weepy drunk. 

“Cody, It’s alright.” Skull managed to say, hoping it would soothe his alcohol-addled brain. “It’s not just your fault.” 

Skull went to stand next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back. After a couple of minutes, Cody stopped and looked up, frown still written on his face and eyes red, “Is he almost done?” The Commander asked.

“Soon.” Skull answered with a sigh. 

It was another twenty minutes before Kenobi’s CT scan was complete and Skull looked over the results the second it finished. He’d set the General up in the nearest room and guided Cody inside to sit with him while he reviewed the results.

To Skull’s relief, there wasn’t any bleeding in the General’s brain. He had been worried by the state of Kenobi in the hallway, but alcohol had certainly contributed to making the concussion seem worse than it was. Regardless, he knew Kenobi was bound to complain about the five days of bedrest that Skull was going to impose on him. 

“So no bleeding in the brain, but we will need to talk about care tomorrow morning when you both are sobered up. Now– let me take you back to Kenobi’s quarters.” Skull offered the General a hoverchair and a mask to keep out the brightness of the hallway lights. To Skull’s surprise, he accepted without complaint, other than a disapproving grunt. 

The walk was silent for the most part, save for an occasional half-assed question from Cody, and Skull was more than happy to watch the pair settle into the General’s bunk. While it was as disgusting as usual to watch them curled up in each other’s arms, Skull was willing to give them a pass since they weren’t quite aware of how blatant they were being. 

Skull grabbed a glass of water for Kenobi from the kitchenette, forced him to drink half of it, inserted a hypo of a light painkiller into his neck, and made an exit with an eye on the clock on his way out. 

Skull cursed under his breath and sluggishly made for his rooms, eyes closing for a few seconds here and there as he walked. 

Wasting no time, he set an alarm for five hours later and crawled into bed. 

  Cody felt sick the second his eyes opened. Nausea swelled in his chest as he lurched from the bed, making for the refresher without a second thought.

He emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet the second his knees hit the floor and found that all that came out was a liquidy substance that smelled something like a mix between acid and alcohol. 

Right. Alcohol. 

Cody groaned, head pulsing as he remembered the events of the night before. He’d had at least three too many, but it wasn’t enough to make him forget everything.

Obi-Wan. The party. The concussion. Skull. 

It flooded back with a river of shame. Typically he wouldn’t drink more than two or three beers, and that was if he did drink, but somehow Waxer convinced him to try some Corellian Vodka he’d purchased.

It turned out Corellian Vodka was stronger than other types. Cody mentally reminded himself to murder Waxer the next time he got the opportunity.

Cody stood, nausea somewhat at bay, and hobbled to Obi-Wan’s bunk to find him still fast asleep on his back. He flicked on the light and sat on the edge of the bed, hand crawling up to look underneath the plaster across the side of Obi-Wan’s head. 

Beneath it, the skin had mostly healed, but Cody could see the outline of a gash and large red mark that would certainly evolve into a bruise. Cody replaced the bandage and was about to try and find a bottle of painkillers when he heard a gentle knock on the door. 

Mind still foggy, he trudged to the door and flung it open. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Skull who was armed with a medkit and a tray with two to-go cups in it. 

“Morning, sunshine.” Skull muttered with false-cheeriness and a smug smile that Cody still hated with a passion. “Going to let me in?” 

Cody wished he had the energy to protest, or even slam the door back in Skull’s face, but instead, he stepped aside. 

Skull headed straight for the bed and placed the medkit where Cody had been laying before. “I’m not sure how much you remember, but Obi-Wan got a concussion last night.” The medic rifled through the kit, then produced an IV kit and what Cody could tell was a hydration pack. 

“I remember.” Cody muttered, his voice more gruff than usual, “And you’re here for what reason?” He said, sitting at the bottom of the bed by Obi-Wan’s feet. 

“To give you some instructions for care. He’ll be on bedrest for five days.” Skull said and Cody watched him make quick work of pulling Obi-Wan’s arm out from underneath the covers to fix the IV. Just then, Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open. He immediately squinted, then covered his eyes with his hands.

“Kriff.” Obi-Wan swore, and Cody’s eyebrows rose without his permission; Obi-Wan hardly swore. 

In an almost comical repetition of events, Obi-Wan ripped his arm away from Skull and tumbled out of bed on unsteady feet to head toward the refresher. 

On any other day, Cody would have followed him there to rub circles onto his back, but this time his own stomach would betray him. Instead, he stayed put and watched Skull shake his head.

“What?” Cody bit out shortly from between his teeth. 

“The two of you are going to be the death of me.” Skull said, tone matter-of-fact, then shrugged.

Cody cringed at the sound of Obi-Wan’s own stomach contents being expelled into the toilet.

A minute later, Obi-Wan appeared from the fresher. Underneath his eyes there were dark blue circles, and his face was much paler than usual. He continued to squint, which prompted Skull to flick off the overhead light in exchange for the dim lamp on the bedside table. 

“Welcome to the land of the living, Sir.” Skull said, and Obi-Wan grimaced as he settled back into the bed, “To catch you up, you have a concussion, and you’re hung over. Now, Cody, get his tunics off, will you?” Skull continued and he fiddled with something in his medkit again.

Cody did as requested, even as a headache pounded inside of his skull. He was sure whatever Obi-Wan’s head felt like was millions of times worse.

Obi-Wan let out a soft whimper as Cody helped him.

“It’s alright.” Cody whispered in his ear, low enough Skull wouldn’t hear and gently ran a hand through the unruly strands of copper hair on Obi-Wan’s head. Obi-Wan practically melted into his touch and Cody felt bad when he pulled away.

“How are you feeling this morning, Sir?” Skull asked as he fixed the IV in Obi-Wan’s arm and attached the hydration pack to a portable pole he’d produced from his medkit. 

“Quite… bad, actually. My head hurts.” Skull snorted softly. Cody watched Obi-Wan take fistfulls of his hair, his breathing uneven and pained. 

Skull said something else, something Cody wasn’t paying attention as he tried to work out what had exactly happened to cause the concussion. He racked his brain for what felt like hours, but came up short. He recalled being in the refectory, and surrounded by many drunk brothers, but there was no clear picture of anything that stood out to him.

“Cody?” He heard suddenly, and Skull was looking at him, unblinking. 

“Oh– um, sorry.” Cody murmured and cleared his throat when his words continued to come out in a deep grumbled tone. 

“I just need you to listen for another moment.” Skull said. “Now– make sure he’s resting and sleeping, and keep him hydrated. I’ve brought you caf and Kenobi a decaffeinated tea to start. He can have one of these hypos each day for three days, then just regular painkillers should do the trick. Also, keep the lights dim or off. No datapads, Kenobi.” Skull handed Cody a plastic bag with the three hypos, “Any questions?” 

Cody didn’t say anything, just shook his head, and immediately regretted it when pain spread up his neck.

“Great.” Skull stood and snapped his medkit closed, then briskly headed for the door, “Oh, and one more thing, Cody.”

There was that smug smile again, the one Cody couldn’t stand on a normal day and especially not when a hangover was involved. Cody narrowed his eyes.

“Seeing as you haven’t mentioned it yet, I though maybe I’d enlighten you to how exactly the concussion happened.” Cody’s heart skipped a beat. “You told me last night you and the General were making out in the refectory, on a table, and Kenobi fell off.” 

Kriff. Fucking kriff it all.

Skull said the words flatly, like they didn’t shock Cody to his very core. 

The whole 212th knew now. Everyone knew. 

“Fuck!” Cody loudly groaned into his hands, ignoring the way Obi-Wan winced.

“See you later, boys.” Skull called as the door slid closed behind him. 

Fuck, Cody didn’t know who to murder first, Skull or his entire battalion. 

[arcsimper5]

Actions and Consequences - Chapter 1 Resolute

Delta Squad are forced to seek help from within the fleet for their injured Jedi, Jerra. Mixing with the GAR general is... an issue.

Pairing: OC!Jedi Jerra x Delta Squad Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, some blood, language. Rating: M (Explicit content in later chapters, minors DNI)

Kix huffed as the hangar medical alert rang out into the med bay, the low buzz of it echoing through his skull.

It had been a long day already, the Resolute in orbit above Pravada 9, a large group assault on droid production bases having been ordered by the GAR while data was gathered by a specialist assault team.

Looking at the chrono, he frowned in confusion; the last of the teams from the 501st and 212th had returned hours ago, with no reports of lost ships or units. Everyone deployed from the ship had been accounted for.

So why, then, was the medical alert sounding if all troops had returned?

Grumbling in annoyance at the inevitable extension of his shift, he grabbed his medkit and made the short journey to the hangar, looking around for his new patients.

There were a few groups of troopers milling around, but none that seemed to need attention. One lot of four were playing sabacc on some nearby crates while another small gathering of softshells were working on a gunship which had taken quite a bit of damage in the incursion.

None of them seemed to need his attention, his annoyance growing further.

“Anyone call for a medic?” he asked loudly, several heads snapping in his direction.

A murmuring response of ‘no’ and ‘not me’ came from the troopers, Kix letting out a growl of annoyance.

“Then who the kark is wasting my time by calling me down here?” he snapped, some of the sabacc troopers exchanging concerned looks.

He was about to head back to medbay and file a false alarm report when a gravelly voice called across the hangar, a large, imposing clone in distinctive armour appearing from the end of a gunship, a large sniper rifle in his hands.

“I am,” the trooper called, the entire hangar silent now, watching the interaction.

Kix raised an eyebrow, looking the trooper up and down. He could tell by his bucket, which was still firmly in place, that he was a Commando. His bulk on its own was intimidating, but the paint job on his armour completed the picture, the white plastoid flashed with red on his legs, arms and midsection, what appeared to be a bloody handprint covering the area around his visor, giving the impression of it being fresh and dripping.

“You’re not 501st or 212nd,” Kix huffed, the sniper letting out an amused huff.

“What gave it away? You a medic or not?”

Kix stared at the Commando for a moment, caught between actions.

“You’re not on my treatment compliment,” he stated firmly, the sniper staring back. Even under his visor, Kix could practically feel the coldness of the look.

“But you are a medic,” he growled in return, “and we need you.”

“For what?” Kix questioned automatically, the larger clone almost certainly rolling his eyes.

“A fifth for sabacc. What do you think, di’kut?”

Kix was about to offer a sharp retort when another Commando appeared behind the sniper, his posture communicating his impatience.

“Sev! What the kriff is taking so long?”

It only took the other man a moment to register Kix’s presence, his size matching this so-called ‘Sev’, though his bucket was off, exposing a frustrated expression.

Even though he looked like a clone and his hair was slightly longer than regulation, the Commando armour he wore, mostly green with a white flashed chestpiece, he gave off the air of someone much more superior.

“You, medic! We’ve been waiting on you! Get your shebs back to the ship!”

Kix frowned, his frustration growing.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” he huffed, “but I’m assigned to the 501st. You can’t just turn up on a republic fleet ship, call a medic and demand medical attention without registering first.”

“Oh, look, the little shiny doctor doesn’t know who we are,” Sev chuckled lowly, the other Commando rolling his eyes and glaring at him.

“Can it, Sev. This is about Jerra, not you.”

“Look,” Kix sighed, shaking his head, “let me call the on-call medic. I’m sure they can…”

“No time!” the unidentified Commando cut him off, shaking his head, “Our Jedi is injured. Now are you gonna do your job or not?”

As Sev chuckled, Kix felt the urge to decline simply on principle, but hearing there was an injured Jedi piqued his interest, not to mention his innate need to help was kicking in. Whether it was in his genes or in his heart, he couldn’t fight it, relenting with a long suffering sigh as he trudged towards the commandos.

“Ugh, fine! Just… register after, okay? I need to record all treatment.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” the Commando nodded, waving behind him in a gesture for Kix to follow.

“What Battalion are you even from?” Kix asked as they weaved through the gunships, most in various states of battle damaged, towards the rear of the hangar.

“Battalion?” Sev rumbled, his tone amused, “That’s cute.”

“We’re Delta Squad,” the other clone responded tightly. “I’m Fixer, this is Sev. Boss and Scorch are still on the shuttle with Jerra, our Commander.”

“Delta Squad?” 

Kix froze in place for a second, Sev almost walking into him, barely dodging his stock still form. 

“The Delta Squad? The ones who ran the demo job on Geonosis during the first battle of the Clone Wars?”

“History lesson later,” Fixer urged him, reaching back and grabbing his arm, the medic stumbling a little as he was pulled along, “first, medic stuff.”

“But… You guys are… You’re a myth! You���re not… You’re not supposed to exist!”

“And yet, here we are,” Sev chuckled, a hiss sounding as he reached up with one hand, unclipping his bucket and pulling it off.

Kix took in his features, surprised. Again, although he looked the same as the rest of his brothers, Sev had a certain… severity to him, as obvious as it would seem.

Two large scars ran across his face, one down from the top of his hairline to just below his cheekbone over his right eye, the other across the same eye, from the bridge of his nose to the curve of his face. It looked oddly like a crosshair.

His hair was thick, tight curls cut short, shoots of grey showing through. Light amber eyes stared back at Kix, a wicked smirk tilting at chapped lips.

“Got an issue?” he grinned, Kix immediately shaking his head.

“N-No… Kriff… Rex is not gonna believe this…”

Turning to Sev, he hesitated for a moment. “Is it true the four of you took back an entire republic cruiser from trandoshan pirates on your own?” 

Sev smirked, raising an eyebrow at the medic. 

“Is that what they tell you?” he teased, the low tone of his voice sending an uncomfortable shiver down Kix's spine. 

“Like I said,” the other commando huffed from in front of them, “history lesson later. And to be fair, it was mostly Boss.” 

Within moments, they were free of the field of battleworn gunships, the path to a beat up looking attack shuttle appearing. Another Commando was waiting outside, this one with a white chest piece, grey and gold covering his arms and legs.

“Took ya long enough!” he yelled as they approached, his voice somehow softer than the average clone’s, “What were ya doing? Teaching him how to practice medicine?”

“Can it, Scorch,” Fixer snapped, releasing Kix’s arm as they approached the ramp, Scorch’s face scrunched in an unimpressed expression.

His hair was much longer than the others, thick curls pulled back into a loose braid at the back, a few ringlets falling around his face. He leant against the ship with his arms folded over his chest, eyes scanning Kix suspiciously.

“How’s she doing?” Sev quizzed Scorch, the expression on the slightly smaller clone’s face faltering a little.

“In pain,” he replied quickly, looking pointedly to Kix, “Boss is with her. He’s been pushing bacta, but you know how she is with supplies.”

“You,” Sev grunted at Kix before nodding to the door, sharp eyes locked on him, “inside.”

“Going, going!” Kix assured him, drawing in an attempt at a steadying breath as he pushed through the doorway of the ship, the insides dimly lit.

It was a modest set up in the shuttle, a bunk room off to one side, labelled as such on the door. A small refresher was marked at the back, top and rear gunner mount positions visible from the main gangway.

Looking down towards the rear, Kix soon found his target, watching curiously as he crept closer.

The Jedi, Jerra, was sat on one of the navigation seats, her left hand supporting a limp right arm, face twisted with pain as she let out a hiss.

She was human, at least she appeared to be, warm skin over tight features. Her eyes seemed to dance with a green light in the darkness, focused on the Commando in front of her, the clone kneeling as he looked over her knees, one of which was exposed and covered with a bacta patch.

Her long dark hair was pulled back into multiple braids that trailed down her back, pulled together with a gold band. The clone in front of her was helmetless, hair short and mussed, curls spilling onto his skin haphazardly as he rested on one knee, hands gentle as he rubbed bacta in a nasty looking cut on her leg.

Visibly, it seemed to be her only other urgent injury, save the small cuts that littered her face. They looked like shrapnel wounds, ones that Kix was, unfortunately, all too familiar with.

“Not long now, mesh’la,” he grumbled lowly, his accent thick and low, a warmth to it that made Kix raise an eyebrow, “we’ll get some meds into you.”

“I can wait,” Jerra replied with a forced smile, adoration clear on her face as she looked the commando over, letting out a huff of laughter, “you shouldn’t be wasting bacta on me, Boss, I told you…”

“Hush,” Boss ordered, his voice stern, though his smile betrayed his tone, “bacta can be replaced. You can’t.”

A moment stretched between them, intimate and deep, simply sharing a connection, and for a second, Kix felt like he was intruding on something private.

“Uh… Sorry to interrupt,” he managed, his voice cracking a little as Jerra’s intense gaze turned to meet him, Boss’s smile fading entirely as he stood back up to full height, “I’m Kix, the medic from the 501st.”

“About time you got here,” Boss grunted, stepping back to allow Kix access to Jerra, “does ‘rapid medical response’ mean something different in the fleet?”

“Boss,” Jerra chastised the Commando gently, Kix trying his best to keep his expression set as he approached, the large clone’s white and red armour adding to his intimidating presence, “leave him be. It’s not like we were announced.”

“Still,” Boss huffed, his eyes softening a little as Kix placed his back at Jerra’s feet, offering a weak smile.

“Sorry about them,” Jerra grinned softly, “they can be a little demanding. I hope they weren’t rude to you.”

“No more than any of my other vode,” Kix smiled back, earning a huff from Boss. “Now… the others mentioned you being in pain?”

His eyes travelled over her, noting the bacta patch on her leg and the way she still held her arm.

“Do you mind telling me what happened?”

“Big ass explosion!” a shout came from the doorway, Scorch leaning around it, watching intently, “Got caught in the shockwave. Uh… sorry, again, about that.”

“Out!” Boss yelled, stamping towards the ramp, his face set. Jerra simply rolled her eyes and let out a breath of laughter, focusing back on Kix.

“We were infiltrating one of the maintenance facilities while the battle distracted the main forces,” she explained as Kix reached up, flattening his palm for her to lower her arm onto it, “our objective was to take it out and get intel on the newer battle droids they’re pushing out. Things got a bit heated, more security than intel thought there’d be, and I got pushed off a walkway by one of the breach blasts. Boss caught me before I fell all the way down, but it jarred my arm some.”

Kix hummed as he listened, eyes now intently fixed on her arm as he rolled the fabric covering it up as gently as he could. Her robes were a dark brown, the tunic underneath faded greens and greys, all tattered and smelling distinctly of explosive residue.

“Lucky escape,” Kix smiled, Jerra wincing as he tried to straighten her arm, hissing in pain. In his peripheral, he saw Boss turn sharply at the noise, trying his best to focus. 

The skin around the joint was purple and black, bruised badly. The swelling was quite severe, but there seemed to be no obvious deformation.

“I can’t tell from just looking, but there’s some bruising and irritation around the joint. Did you hear a pop or crack when you were caught?”

Jerra hesitated for a moment, looking towards Boss, her expression caught.

“I need you to be honest,” Kix explained softly, “or we might miss something that could cause complications in the future. We can heal whatever it is, I promise.”

With a long exhale, Jerra closed her eyes and nodded, something close to shame echoing across her features.

“It dislocated when Boss caught me,” she murmured, gaze averted to her feet, “and I popped it back in. Hurt like a jawa-kriffer, but it let me keep going.”

“Mesh’la…”

Boss’s call cut through the silence, the pain in his tone apparent.

“You should have told me… I’m…”

“Don’t,” Jerra frowned back at him, watching cautiously as he approached, “you did what you had to. I’m alive, we’re all here, that’s what matters. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d worry.”

“Damn right I’d worry,” Boss glared back at her, “It’s my job to look out for you all!”

“And you did!”

“But you got hurt…”

“Instead of falling to my death!”

Boss considered her words for a moment, hovering over her as Kix looked between them, the tension growing.

“Well, uh, there might be some small fractures in the elbow joint,” he explained quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation, “but I’d need to do a scan to be sure. It might also be good to look at the rest of your joints too, mainly your shoulder. A force like that can dislodge things or pull other muscles. It’s nothing that a bacta wrap won’t fix overnight, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“No,” Boss growled, Kix’s gaze darting to Jerra as she rolled her eyes, letting out a huff, “we have orders to be back en-route by oh-four-hundred. We’re only here for medical attention, resupply and refuel.”

“And you’re getting medical attention,” Kix replied sternly, releasing Jerra’s arm back to her as gently as he could, gathering his pack and standing, “and I’m telling you she needs more treatment.”

“We’re not leaving without her.”

“Then you’re not leaving at all,” Kix frowned, gesturing at Jerra. “If you want to deny her treatment and possibly aggravate what is currently a minor injury, be my guest. But if it is broken, bone fragments could shift and damage both muscle and tissue, not to mention the pain will only build. She needs rest and recuperation, and as a medic, I am able to pull individuals from active service for that.”

“Need a hand, Boss?”

Sev’s deep voice echoed through the ship, two other faces also peering in, their expressions stern.

It was clear that they were willing to step in if there was an argument, Jerra huffing in frustration as Kix stood his ground, shouldering his bag.

The Commando and the Medic stared each other down for a long moment, Boss’s eyes searching Kix’s face.

After what felt like an eternity, Boss let out a frustrated huff and stepped back, allowing Kix to pass.

“One rotation. No longer,” he growled, looking back to Jerra, “and one of us is always with her.”

“Boss,” she protested, quickly cutting off her own reply as he glared back at her.

“That’s an order.”

“I outrank you,” she shot back, hissing again as she stood up, following Kix as he made his way through the ship, though she made no further argument.

Boss looked her up and down, putting out a hand against the durasteel wall on the other side of the galley, blocking her path while the medic disembarked, his intense gaze finding hers once more.

“Boss,” she breathed again, swallowing hard when his free hand moved to her face, tracing his knuckles down the side of her face, “I’ll be fine.”

“You should have told me,” he grumbled after a moment, the guilt in his eyes making her chest constrict. “I hurt you.”

“You saved my life,” she reminded him, stepping into his space, tucking her head under his chin.

Taking another deep breath, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tenderly, taking the upmost care not to put pressure on her arm. “Better broken than a pile of goop on the floor of a maintenance facility.”

Boss let out a soft chuckle, his expression softening once more. Pulling away slightly, he looked down at Jerra, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’ll make it up to you, cabur,” he promised, voice little more than a whisper, “we all will.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she teased gently, shivering at the sensation of his breath ghosting over her cheeks, “it’s been too long, Boss.”

“I know, cyare,” he smiled, leaning down to brush his lips over hers, drawing a whimper from deep in her throat, “but what was it you taught us about patience?”

“Gar chayaikir,” she moaned softly, growling as he pulled away, “you’re going to pay for this.”

“Hey, riddurok’la, your medic is getting twitchy!” Scorch shouted from the doorway, leaning in with a sly grin on his face, looking over the scene with amusement. “Gar me'dinuir, vod?”

“Mir’sheb,” Boss growled in response, moving towards the door, Jerra following with a blush on her cheeks. “Come on then, my lady,” he teased bowing as he reached the door, “your medic awaits.”

*-*-* Translations: Di’kut - idiot Shebs - Ass/Butt Mesh’la - Beautiful Cabur - Protector/Guardian Cyare - Beloved/One who is beloved Gar chayaikir - You tease Gar me'dinuir, vod? - You share, brother? Riddurok’la - Married Couple (rough translation) Mir’sheb - Smartass

[just-whatever-ig]

My Clone OC is called:

Lullaby, CT-61-9121, regular trooper, first assigned: 20BBY (after Battle of Umbara)

He wears his hair reg-compliant because Cody does it too and Lullaby really wants to be like his Marshal Commander

He has three 5mm black dots tattooed under his left eye and another three below the right corner of his mouth.

He carries around the skull of a bird in one of his toolpouches, he uses it as a token of luck. He found it on his first campaign with the 212th

Here some basic biography (as far as I have it til now):

He’s a second generation Clone (which means even faster aging than for example Cody or Rex) and got assigned to the 212th after the Umbara disaster.

He is polite but often forgets his place and acts too casual around his superiors (Cody never reprimands him, though, because he likes Lullaby)

He liked to sing little songs for his batchmates: hence his name.

He becomes almost friends with Cody after helping him with tough paperwork and almost immediately gets transferred to the Corries by Fox because Fox does not allow favoritism (also Lullaby is rather well organized and Fox still needs a secretary)

Lullaby is very loyal and has a rather loose trigger finger but he is one of the most compassionate clones around, Cody wanted to suggest him for medical consolation duty.

I would like to see some clone ocs...👀 pls share if you have them. Visual descriptions also sound lovely 👀👀👀

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

the artifact

Part Ten (TEN!!!) of 212th Medic Skull Has Had Enough on ao3

| Part two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Summary:

There were approximately three minutes of glorious silence as Skull opened his medkit and began to reorganize its contents.

Then there were hushed whispers filling the cabin.

“You shouldn’t have taken this mission, Obi-Wan. You know what happened the last time.” Cody’s voice was low, barely a whisper, but it couldn’t be ignored in the confines of the space.

(Or, a mission to Corellia leads Obi-Wan to another Sith artifact. Skull, Oxy, and Cody try to stop its effects before it's too late.)

Word Count: 10,647 (A hefty one, I know)

It had been almost two standard months since that dreaded night –the one sharing a bed with Quinlan– and Cody had only just stopped teasing Skull to the point of making the medic want to wring his neck. Sure, the flirting had been fun, and definitely something Skull secretly enjoyed despite the Commander’s endless commentary, but Quinlan was always on the move, never sticking around in one place for longer than a few days.

In other words, it was impractical to let anything other than flirting happen, it wouldn’t be able to last.

Skull was okay with it, especially the demands of his own job. The 212th had an unimaginable propensity, as an entire unit of men, to be riddled with endless medical issues and injuries unrelated to the war efforts. At least Skull wouldn’t be out of a job anytime soon. 

There had been a couple of weeks of leave on Coruscant, leaving Skull and Oxy with enough time and resources to finally procure a year’s supply of a medication that was strong enough to treat General Kenobi’s epilepsy. While it was difficult to get him sitting still for long enough in between Jedi responsibilities and Council meetings to explain the need for the medication, Skull was fairly certain Kenobi was taking it when his absence seizures had disappeared after two more weeks. 

With that resolved, and at bay for at least a year save for any additional Kenobi-related inconveniences, Skull finally felt free enough to spend his time researching new medications, unknown illnesses running through the ranks, and new types of flora he had come across in their travels. 

His latest research of a desert plant he’d found on Jakku led him to his lab in the Negotiator’s medbay on a particularly quiet day. No orders had been communicated from the ranks above, and the last of Skull’s patients had trickled out of the medbay the day before. 

Then– 

“Got new orders, Skully; suit up.” Oxy’s voice rang loud from the door outside his lab. 

Sighing– because he’d just begun to look at the healing properties of this particular plant, and he was making some headway– Skull stood from his creaky chair and left his lab behind.

“Where are we going this time? Please tell me not the desert.” He asked, collecting his scuffed armor from his desk and beginning to position each plastoid piece. 

“No, some city planet, small squadron. I’m thinking Jedi- osik. Diplomacy or whatever.” Oxy was practically shaking with excitement over the idea; Skull snorted. Oxy probably figured there would be drinks and bars and fun if they were headed for a diplomatic conference. 

“And you think they’ve requested medics for a diplomatic meeting? Must be some treaty.” Skull pulled his bucket over his head, grabbed his packed medical kit, and shrugged as they left Splint in charge and headed for the hangar. 

As predicted, the mission was not for diplomatic purposes, but rather one to retrieve a Sith artifact from the hands of a bounty hunter. From the look on Ahsoka’s face when Skywalker explained it, medics were brought along for a reason.  

Sith. Skull’s stomach rolled ominously. 

Skull had only heard fragments of conversations about Sith in his time surrounded by the Jedi, but he had been able to piece together a decent idea of what the Sith were. Dark, deceptive, Force-wielders; a direct contradiction to the Jedi. 

Skull shared a dubious look with Oxy. It was one thing to be thrown into battle with one hundred of the vode, and another to share a mission with the Jedi– Skull liked to think only the former had common sense.

It seemed Commander Cody shared the unease. He stared at Skull as he stepped off of the top of the ramp into the cruiser, lips in a hard, unmoving line. While he always appeared somewhat cross, he seemed particularly so in the moment. Beside him, Kenobi stood with his arms tucked within the arms of his cloak, his usual tranquil demeanor on display. However, there was something off about him, an edge that usually wasn’t there which lingered around his presence. 

“Outside of Coronet there is a rumored non-operating droid factory buried under farmland,” Skywalker spoke as the ship took off from the hangar. “Our intel shows there is a good chance the Sith artifact is hidden there. We will retrieve it, place it in the Force-suppressing shipping container,” Skywalker pointed to a durasteel case that sat in the corner of the room, “And ship it back to Coruscant.”

Silence enveloped the cabin, and Kenobi cleared his throat after a pause. 

“How do you suppose you will find a way in?” He asked, voice curiously low and shaky, unusual for the normally confident Jedi.

“Well, Obi-Wan, you’ll be happy to hear I already enlisted a spy to search for an entrance– and he has sent me the coordinates.” Skywalker seemed proud of himself, but the tension that had filled the cabin was more than telling of Kenobi’s feelings on the matter.

“And how do you… suppose you’ll retrieve it? Anakin– Sith artifacts can be dangerous.”  

Cody folded his arms across his chest, eyes narrowed at Skywalker like a predator hunting its prey. 

“Obi-Wan– it’s an artifact not an actual Sith lord– as long as we contain it before bringing it on board, I don’t think it should be an issue. Should be a simple in-and-out.” Skywalker looked at Kenobi expectantly, who didn’t respond.

Skull could see the worry that leaked into Kenobi’s eyes, and that wasn’t to be taken lightly. Kenobi usually wasn’t worried for no reason. 

“With all due respect, General, if this is an easy in-and-out, why are we here?” Skull asked, and punctuated the question with his thumb thrown in Oxy’s direction. It was a fair question, given Skywalker’s explanation of what their mission would entail; medics barely seemed like necessity. Skywalker opened his mouth, but before he could get a word in, Cody cleared his throat and took a step forward, looming just ahead of Kenobi. 

“As a precautionary measure. We don’t know what this Sith artifact is, much less how the Jedi react when they’re in contact with it.” Cody’s answer was spoken in an even tone, but Skywalker looked on with suspicion. 

From there, the conversation dissolved, no one really wanting to discuss the matter more, and no one wanting to be the one to cut through the waves of uneasiness. 

Oxy trudged off to one of the free enclosed bunks for a nap, and Ahsoka and Anakin wandered off toward the cockpit bickering about something. That left Skull in the slightly cramped main cabin with Kenobi and Cody. Fantastic. Wonderful. There was nothing Skull would rather do less than spend four or more hours trapped in an enclosed space with them.

Skull took the seat furthest from the pair, which was all of thirty feet, but it was enough that he hoped the two could have their space to discuss whatever it was they needed to discuss. Cody usually didn’t look so… intense. That was, unless there was something up, and Skull truly didn’t want to witness it. 

There were approximately three minutes of glorious silence as Skull opened his medkit and began to reorganize its contents. 

Then there were hushed whispers filling the cabin. 

“You shouldn’t have taken this mission, Obi-Wan. You know what happened the last time.” Cody’s voice was low, barely a whisper, but it couldn’t be ignored in the confines of the space. 

For the love of the Force. Skull wasn’t in the mood. 

“Cody… you know I must. Was I supposed to tell the Council no? Do you think they take no for an answer?” Kenobi usually didn’t have a bite in his tone, but this time, it rang clear with his punctuated words. Skull chanced a glance at the pair where they stood at the opposite end of the cabin and noted the red flush on Kenobi’s cheeks. Cody leaned against the wall, arms still folded across his chest and his bucket on the floor between his legs. Kenobi sat in a seat against the wall, his legs crossed in his lap like he had intentions to meditate.

So much for that, Skull supposed. 

“They could have sent someone else, they know what you went through… the suffering.” Cody shook his head into his hands with a deep sigh. 

The suffering. The word piqued Skull’s interest. General Kenobi, as Skull had come to find out, was a deeply complicated man, both in personality and medically. For that reason, and in lieu of recent events, Skull had extracted and read every element of his personal file, and all the additional paperwork that had been shoved into a folder by way of crumpled flimsies. Yet, there was nothing he could recall regarding an incident with a Sith artifact. 

“And I don’t? I am indeed self-sufficient, Commander. I know what I can and cannot handle.” The General shifted, arms folding into his brown, flowing sleeves, as if he were trying to compose himself. 

“This isn’t a good idea, and you know it.” Cody responded after a moment, and turned to head toward the cockpit. He didn’t bother to spare one of his angry glances at Skull, and nearly stomped past him through the doorway.

For a few moments, there was silence, and Skull thought he might have a relieving four hours to himself and his medkit.

“I’m sorry, Skull. You didn’t need to hear that.” Kenobi's eyes were slightly watery when Skull looked up at him; even from far away the medic could tell he was blinking back tears. 

“I–” Skull wished he could deny he heard anything at all, keep himself out of whatever little love-quarrel was going on, “It’s alright, General. I’ve heard worse from the two of you.” 

He hoped it would lighten the mood, a small joke, but Kenobi only hummed and seemed to curl in on himself even more, if possible. Skull was surprised he didn’t immediately begin meditating. Skull pondered him for a moment, the thought of that supposed suffering still niggling at the back of his mind. 

“I do have a question, Sir, if you don’t mind.” Skull asked as Kenobi nodded once, “Cody mentioned there was suffering ah… the last time. The last time you were in contact with a Sith artifact?” It was barely a question, and Skull kicked himself for the awkwardness of it all. 

“I– it was early on in the War. Barely a memory now…” Kenobi’s gaze was fixed somewhere in the distance as his voice trailed off.

“Uh, General?” Skull said after a moment of waiting.

“Sorry, Skull. I don’t wish to rehash it.” While Skull wished he could leave it alone, let the General enjoy his own suffering alone, but medics were not enlisted to be here for no reason. Clearly, someone thought a medic was needed, and he had his suspicions it was Kenobi. 

“Apologies, Sir, I don’t mean to pry, but I’d like to know ahead of time why exactly a medical staff has been brought on for this.” Kenobi blinked down at the floor before tilting his head to look in Skull’s direction. 

“It’s… complicated, I suppose. If you must know, I had a reaction the last time I was in the presence of a Sith artifact. More mental than physical, not anything to be too worried–” Skull wasn’t about to let him continue to ramble trying to disguise the true nature of what had happened. 

“A reaction, Sir?” The alarm bells were ringing loud and clear. The last time Kenobi informed him of having a reaction he had been minutes away from anaphylactic shock on some rainforest planet in the Outer Rim. 

“Reaction might have been a strong word to use– more like a mental inconvenience if you will.” Kenobi blinked at him innocently like the truth hadn’t been buried layers deep inside of his thick skull. 

Skull wanted to question him more, grill him until there was no doubt about what exactly a kriffing mental inconvenience was, but there was an easier option. Although that option was likely to be less pleasant, Cody would tell him the brutal intricacies of the truth, or an extreme exaggeration depending on his mood. Regardless, Cody was at least a twenty-percent more reliable source than Kenobi when it came to Kenobi problems. 

So Skull nodded, letting the conversation trail to a stop as naturally as he could. 

He took to organizing his kit again, rearranging the gauze and bandages so they were next to each other and grouping all of his remaining bacta products together. “I’m going to see where we are at for time.” Skull said after half an hour had passed, and Kenobi nodded again, strangely silent. 

He pushed past the sliding doorway and was surprised to find that Cody wasn’t in the cockpit as expected. Rather, he was sitting in the space between the doors to the cabin cockpit, one knee pulled up toward his chest and one of his hands twirling his bucket on the floor. 

He looked up when Skull snorted, his own arms crossing over his chest. “Got tired on your way to the cockpit, Commander?” Skull asked, forcing an eye roll from Cody.

“No. Just didn’t want to be around a kriffing Jedi.” Skull could understand the sentiment. The Jedi were often his deepest point of annoyance. 

“Welcome to the war, brother.” Skull said with a laugh. “Now, are you going to tell me what that was all about? You left him all teary-eyed.” 

Cody shook his head, a sigh heavy on his lips. “Is it really your business, Skull?” 

“Whatever your little squabble is about is the reason I’m here. So yes, it is, in fact, my business.” Why did Cody always have to make things so karking difficult? It felt like pulling teeth. “What was Kenobi’s reaction to the Sith artifact? It wasn’t in his file, and hells– Skywalker doesn’t seem to know about either. But you do.” 

That same tension, and possibly a hint of frustration, swirled between them and radiated from Cody. The man in question bit his lip. “His reaction– it was something like rejection. His body rejected a Sith artifact before– before you were assigned to the 212th. There was a mission to a Sith planet called Zigoola, almost a year ago now. Obi-Wan and Bail Organa–”

“The senator?” It sounded absurd to think that a senator would be involved, but it would explain the fairly close relationship Kenobi held with Organa. 

“Yes– the senator– they took a mission to this planet, and I don’t know all of the details, but they sustained… rather severe injuries. And Obi-wan–” Cody looked slightly choked up where he sat staring at something past Skull, “He told me this artifact weakened him, made him sick and broken. Made him want to die. Commanded him to die.”

Skull’s heart beat thunderously inside his ribcage at the thought of Kenobi withering under the trance of some magical artifact. To a clone, it didn’t seem possible. It was hard to believe all of the Force -osik when he had never felt it himself. He needed to research it, and quickly.

“What were the physical symptoms? Do you know?” Skull asked as evenly as possible. He wished he could be more comforting, but it wasn’t his area of expertise, and Cody wouldn’t want that anyway. 

“Mostly illness and hallucinations– bleeding from his eyes and nose– he fell down a ravine in a haze. It’s how he fucked up his leg.” Cody’s words flowed out quickly, like he had memorized lines. Skull empathized, it was a lot of swallow. “And that’s not even the worst of it.”  

“Not the worst?” Skull felt his own voice waver. 

“No. His leg– he made Organa use his lightsaber to hurt him. The pain was the only thing that kept that fucking Sith thing from killing him.” Cody seethed with every word, spitting them out in a ruthless whisper as he squeezed his bucket between his hands. “The Council knows what happened– they know how dangerous these artifacts can be– but they still asked him to come. Skywalker and Ahsoka don’t know the whole story either– they can’t see the danger.” 

Skull let himself go numb and tried not to imagine the absolute trauma Kenobi had experienced. To allow lightsaber wounds to be repetitively inflicted, to ask for the searing pain, would only be possible as an act of desperation. Whatever had been happening inside the General’s mind, with the Force , must have been much worse. Unimaginable pain; suffering. 

“He didn’t ask to be excluded?” Skull asked tentatively watching Cody’s knuckles turn white where he still gripped his helmet. 

“He’s too kriffing proud for that. Now here we are.” It checked out; Kenobi had always seemed to have an endless desire to help others, to save the Republic, and bring peace to the galaxy. To his own detriment, that was. 

“Well kriff. He shouldn’t fucking be here.” Skull voiced his thoughts as he tried to work out his course of action. Maybe it was time he meddled in this karking relationship, yet again. 

“I can’t make him listen to me.” Cody muttered, shaking his head. 

“Let’s talk to him. Together. I’m a reasonable person.” Skull suggested, testing the waters with the extent he’d be allowed to insert himself into the situation. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” 

Cody was apparently desperate then.

In the main cabin Kenobi hadn’t moved from where he sat, legs folded. Although, it seemed whatever meditation he had tried didn’t work. Instead, he sat perfectly still while he stared at the far wall with unblinking eyes. 

“Sir?” He asked, Cody trailing a few steps behind him. The General’s head snapped toward them and he swallowed deeply. 

“Oh. Hello.” His voice barely rose above a whisper.

“Are you alright?” Skull asked, noting the way Kenobi’s eyes were slightly bloodshot. He blinked a few times, and rubbed at his eyes. 

“Fine– a headache, that’s all.” Kenobi answered simply. Skull eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t press further.

“In that case, I have a quick question: are you kidding Kenobi?” It could have been phrased as a joke, but it clearly wasn’t. Kenobi winced. “Cody’s right– you shouldn’t be doing this. As your medic, I cannot authorize this mission. Why was Zigoola not in your file?” Skull knew it was a bombardment of accusations and questions, but the man needed to hear it, even if Kenobi flinched when Zigoola was mentioned by name. 

“I’m afraid I cannot acquiesce to your request.” The response was too simple, Kenobi’s face too blank yet determined all at once. Confusing. 

“Obi-Wan– we’re serious–” Cody growled, but Obi-Wan stood, his slightly taller stature now making him rise above them both. 

“No, Commander, I’m serious. I am a Jedi, and duty comes above all else. I have been asked to supervise this mission for the safety of Anakin and Ahsoka, and I intend to do so as planned. My experience has proven invaluable to the order and I will do what I must.” 

Kenobi brushed past them, always the dramatic, and headed for the cockpit. 

Stunned silence was decidedly Skull’s least favorite type. 

   The cabin was silent even as everyone gathered in its center, now only minutes from landing on the surface of Corellia. 

There had been several hours for Skull to search through the holonet, gathering whatever available information he could on Sith artifacts and the Jedi reaction to them. While there wasn’t much information available, most of it matched what Cody had described. Mostly– it was an overwhelming illness that could take down even the strongest of Jedi. Even make them fall. Sure, Skywalker had been said to be an anomaly, but there was a chance the effects of the artifact could be enough to make the young Jedi lose his way. 

While research usually made Skull feel more prepared and confident, this time, it made his stomach churn ominously. Oxy shared the sentiment, his usual smile faltering into something of a disgruntled frown. 

Skywalker reviewed the plan again, indicating that General Kenobi would stay aboard, medics as well and Ahsoka and Cody would join him. Skull and Oxy would just have to wait, holding their breath for word on whether the artifact had been secured or not.

“Alright Snips, Cody, ready to go?” Skywalker asked, smiling at his Padawan. Ahsoka offered him a watery smile.

“Sure Skyguy. Let’s get this done.” She sounded less confident than she looked, which was saying something. Cody grunted, but didn’t bother to utter a word. 

Kenobi, while usually not afraid to voice his final concerns and words of advice, was oddly silent, his mouth shut and eyes void of any indication of emotion. Skywalker spared a look back at him as he walked down the ramp, but Kenobi had already turned to walk toward the cockpit, hand scratching at the edges of his beard.

   It had been an hour since any communication had come through the comm channel and Skull couldn’t help but nervously wring his hands together as he paced the length of the cabin. On any ordinary mission he wouldn’t feel the searing sting of anxiety pulsing through his veins, but ordinary missions didn’t include Sith artifacts mixed with reckless Jedi. 

“It’s been too long– something went wrong.” Oxy hissed, checking his comlink again. He shook his head and sighed. Skull wanted to disagree, but Skywalker was the chatty type.

Kenobi hadn’t made an appearance from the cockpit since the two younger Jedi had left either. Given the circumstances, Skull was not surprised, but there was a chance Skywalker had been in contact with him. “I’ll go see if the General has heard anything.” Skull said, already heading toward the doorway. 

Upon entering the cockpit, Skull was surprised to find both seats empty, and Kenobi nowhere in sight. His heart skipped a beat as he swore silently. 

Kriff. 

Skull’s heart hammered against the inside of his chest for what felt like the twentieth time that day. 

Where the kriff was he?

Skull gripped his blaster where it clung to his hip and let his eyes scour the area for intruders. No glass was broken and there didn’t appear to be any signs of forced entry. Skull would have systematically searched the space, but he heard a small noise that brought his attention to the left side, just past where the copilot’s chair was situated. 

On the floor, head buried between his knees, and fingers pulling at the roots of his hair, Kenobi sat. 

Karking hells!

Skull wasted no time falling to his knees next to him and his own hands pulled at the white-knucked fingers Kenobi had laced in his hair. “Sir! Sir– please stop.” Kenobi either didn’t hear him, or didn’t care, because his grip only became tighter and he jerked away from Skull’s touch. 

“M-make it stop! Stop!” His voice was hoarse as he yelled out, and the tears that hadn’t fallen earlier now streamed down his rust red cheeks. 

“What– make what stop?” Skull responded, but it was less of a question, and more of a realization as the words left his mouth. 

Oh. This was what Cody had described; there was something in the General’s mind scratching at his consciousness and clawing into the crevices of his mind. It was the Sith artifact, now supposedly close enough to have an effect. 

Suffering. That’s what had begun.

Kenobi’s yells continued, summoning a confused, then immediately focused Oxy. “It’s the artifact.” Oxy said, dropping to his knees, medical kit clunking to the floor beside him, “Sedation maybe? Will that help?” 

The truth was, Skull wasn’t sure, which was a rarity in itself. His research had been enough to identify the possible reactions that would come with close contact, but there hadn’t been any known way to prevent these symptoms. Was it safe to sedate him? Skull couldn’t be certain, but it had become increasingly apparent that something needed to happen. 

Kenobi let his hands crawl down his legs, fingernails burying themselves into the skin of his thighs and calves through the thin fabric of his leggings. 

Skull felt himself gasp, immediately ripping the General’s bloodied hands away from him, “General! No– yes, Oxy, prep the hypo.” Oxy worked quicker than most medics, hands almost immediately stabbing the full syringe into Kenobi’s exposed neck. 

There was a silent second– save for Kenobi’s increasingly loud sobs– then his body relaxed just enough that Skull was able to let go of his hands and reach for his head instead where it was still locked between his knees. As expected, per Cody’s description, there was blood everywhere. 

Spewing from his nostrils and dripping from his eyes– hells, even trickling down from his ears. Blood splattered onto the floor faster than Skull could process the fact that it needed to stop. Oxy, three steps ahead, was already digging through the medical kit.

“We need gauze.” Skull murmured numbly. Then– gauze appeared. It was already soaked with blood the second Skull pressed it against Kenobi’s nose and pinched to stop the flow, “Can you clean up his eyes?” Skull asked, his free hand dabbing at the General’s ears.

“Stop! P-Please– don’t!” Kenobi’s sobs continued, though they slowed as the sedative slowly worked its way into his bloodstream. It made Skull’s chest hurt. 

“We need to contact Skywalker– he and Tano could be affected.” Oxy was calm as he pressed more gauze against Kenobi’s eyes. 

“Yes but– I– the bleeding needs to stop.” Skull responded, removing the soaked-through gauze from Kenobi’s face and pressing more back on; it barely made a difference. He agreed with Oxy, they needed to know if Skywalker was experiencing any of the effects.

“Skywalker, come in!” Skull practically yelled in his comlink. He was far too overwhelmed to care if it sounded rude.

“Skull– we’re on our way out.” It was curious– Skywalker’s voice was level, not a note of pain in it. It seemed the artifact barely had an effect on him at all. 

“Ahsoka– is she fine?” Skull hated the way his voice wavered. 

“Uh– yes?” Skywalker’s confusion was evident, “Why wouldn’t she be? This thing is basically a rock– doesn’t really seem like a Sith artifact–”

“Put it in the containment unit. Now.” Skull used the voice he’d usually use on Cody when he was being difficult in the medbay. Skull hoped that would fix the problem and cut the karking artifact off from hurting the General, but that was all it was, a hope. 

“Sure– fine. What’s happening?” Skywalker’s tone didn’t convey the urgency that Skull felt crawling through his own form. It was too difficult to explain in the heat of the moment, Kenobi’s desperate whimpers for mercy loud enough to drown out Skull’s thoughts. 

“ Just do it, Skywalker.” 

Skull waited, breath caught in his throat waiting for the symptoms to reside. 

But the symptoms didn’t, and Kenobi didn’t stop yelling, voice only seeming to get louder. 

“It’s not working– whatever that thing is– it doesn’t respond to Force-suppression!” Oxy uttered loudly, looking frazzled where he attempted to staunch the flow of blood still running from the General’s eyes. 

Skull let it sink it, the overwhelming dread he had been keeping at bay now for hours. He had no prior knowledge on these artifacts, much less their effect on the Jedi, and he certainly wasn’t trained in how to fucking fix his Genenral. The only person who might have a semblance of an idea was Kenobi himself, who was indisposed. The next best option would have to be Cody.

Again, Skull spoke harshly into his comlink, impatience bleeding into his tone, “Cody, come in! Force-suppression isn’t working on that karking thing!” 

There was a telling silence, then Cody’s voice crackled over the line, “ Fuck,” The Commander breathed loudly, voice barely reaching a whisper. 

“How do we get this to stop, Cody? He’s bleeding.” Skull asked, almost pleading. 

“I– Obi-Wan told me the one on Zigoola was destroyed. That might be the only way to make it stop. Is he…?” Cody stammered in a whispered tone, which was unusual to say the least. 

“Kenobi’s not looking good. Just convince Skywalker to destroy it, and don’t come any closer.”

Skull silently prayed to the Force the kriffing young Jedi would listen to Cody. 

Kenobi’s condition did not change as the minutes passed. Though the bleeding slowly became less and less, the General began to twitch uncomfortably, limbs trashing out in front of him.

“Woah– woah! General, stop!” Skull yelled out as Kenobi pushed himself upward, eyes blown wide. He seemed like he couldn’t hear or see anything, his gaze set on something in the distance. Skull watched as Kenobi’s hand slowly moved toward his hip, fingers clasping over the metallic shaft of his lightsaber where it was attached to his hip. “Oxy! Get back!” Skull yelled, immediately realizing what was about to happen. 

Cody had mentioned hallucinations, but this was not the type that Skull had imagined. 

He and Oxy backed away from the General where he now stood, the hilt of his lightsaber extended in front of him. While the blade hadn’t appeared, Skull was convinced it would and somehow, he needed to get Kenobi out of the cockpit before he destroyed it. 

“Ventress… you shouldn’t be here.” Kenobi suddenly sobered, like he wasn’t out of his mind, and the scorching blue of his lightsaber raised up in front of his face. The glow of it reflected into his focused eyes as he scanned over something beyond Skull’s shoulder. 

“We need to get him out of here!” Oxy said, panic laced in his tone. The medic backed away from where Kenobi now pressed forward toward him. 

“Just–” Skull couldn’t think, not with a bloody-faced General Kenobi staring back at him, “Run– let’s see if he follows.” 

So they did, and Kenobi, for better or worse, followed. 

He swung his lightsaber at nothing, and it glided through the air with the same ease it did when Kenobi tore through a crowd of clankers. The fiery blue blade scraped against the sides of the cabin as Skull and Oxy pressed toward the ramp. With every screech of scorched metal, Skull cringed, hoping it wouldn’t affect the integrity of the ship and their ability to escape this Force-forsaken planet.

They backed down the ramp, Kenobi still swinging as he Force-jumped down to the ground where they had landed on an open patch of mud and grass in a clearing of dense trees. 

“You won’t escape this time!” Kenobi growled as he pierced a tree to his right and twisted violently to cut through the trunk of another on his left. In any ordinary circumstance, Skull would have been impressed with his remarkable skill, but this time there was no foe in sight, just the silence of the forest as an enemy. 

“Cody! Do you have an ETA on destroying that kriffing thing?” Skull yelled into his comlink as he and Oxy ducked underneath the ramp, just nearly avoiding another violent swing of Kenobi’s lightsaber where it dug into the side of the durasteel. 

“Working on it.” Cody growled after a moment.

“Well work on it faster– Kenobi’s cutting down every tree in sight–” Skull paused to gasp as the General slammed onto the ramp, using it to launch himself into the branches of a large pine tree that swayed under his weight, “Kriff! Just– he’s losing his mind. He’s seeing Ventress.”  

“– hold on.” This time Cody seemed panicked, and Skull could hear him saying something away from his comlink, “I’m coming.” 

   They were at a standstill, and had been for some time. Getting into the empty droid factory had been easy enough; it was still under construction and didn’t yet contain working machinery. 

There had been a collection of battle droids stationed outside of a clearing by the edge of the farmland, and strangely, not another indication of life or other droids. Skywalker and Ahsoka had easily taken them out as Cody searched the surrounding area for any hidden cameras, traps, or tracking equipment. Though he didn’t find anything, nothing could stop the pained nervousness that had uncomfortably settled in his stomach. 

Obi-Wan’s description of his last interaction with an artifact of the Sith still made Cody nauseous. 

It had been almost too easy for Skywalker to locate the artifact using the Force. It was hidden inside of a vault furthest from the underground entrance, only requiring the misdirection of one droideka. The vault itself was password locked, but Skywalker had managed to bypass it by taking down the security system in the matter of minutes.

That had been when Skull commed Skywalker with a curious sense of urgency that made the hair on the back of Cody’s head stand up straight. It was true, the artifact looked more like a stone than anything, and from what Cody could tell, neither Ahsoka or Skywalker appeared to have any lasting effects. 

“It just feels… strange.” Ahsoka whispered to Cody as Skywalker bickered with Skull, “Like tickle in my mind, nothing worse than that.” She shrugged and rolled it on the ground with her foot. 

Cody grunted and adjusted the containment unit under his arm. 

“Let’s put it in the box; Skull seems nervous about it, and I don’t want him on my back.” Skywalker said suddenly, reaching down and pulling the stone-smooth object up with him. Cody, uneasiness only growing by the second, unlatched the box and allowed Skywalker to place it inside. Hurriedly, he closed the case and latched it before typing in the code to trigger its Force-suppressing qualities. 

For minutes they walked silently through the empty halls of the factory, weaving between unused machinery and dusty tables. Skywalker stayed alert and in front, eyeing any slight noise with suspicion. 

Then suddenly, the mechanical sound of battle droids talking startled the three of them, coming from the railing around the outside of the top part of the factory.

“Did you hear that?” One droid said. Cody looked up at the same time as both Jedi. 

How had they not noticed before?

Along the edges of the walkway that spanned the circumference of the top of the factory, there were clankers stationed equidistant from each other. From what Cody could see, it seemed like there were hundreds of them, at least four hundred if he had to take a guess. Kriff. 

“Those weren’t there before.” Skywalker whispered harshly, just loud enough for Ahsoka and Cody to hear, “They must have caught wind of our movement. Doesn’t seem like they’ve called reinforcements.” 

Right, not yet at least.

“What do we do?” Ahsoka asked, glancing around them like she was looking for a closer exit. There wasn’t one– not one that would lead them back out to the edge of the farmland near their ship, and Cody was certain they didn’t want to risk running through someone’s farm. 

It was then, in the silence of the empty factory, that Cody’s comlink crackled to life. Panic flaring, Cody shoved it into the fabric of Skywalker’s cloak in an attempt to silence it as he lowered the volume. Skywalker, ever the dramatic, shot him look, eyebrows raising.

The minute Cody finished his whispered conversation with Skull, he felt himself go pale. 

“We need to destroy it. Obi-Wan– he’s having a… reaction. It’s not worth it for research if he’s in pain.” Cody whispered loudly.

“What do you mean by a ‘reaction?’ It’s– we’re at least a klick away from him. How can it even have an effect that far away?” Skywalker answered as he started to attempt to move forward, the droid voices silent again. 

Cody caught his arm, keeping him in place. 

“No– we shouldn’t get any closer. It’s got Sith properties, Sir.” Cody growled, “It’s breaking his mind.”  

Skywalker didn’t appear to want to believe him, even as they discussed it further and Cody explained what exactly he meant by breaking his mind. The more Skywalker resisted, the more Cody wanted to slap some sense into him. 

Your former Master is suffering! Do something about it!

He wished he could yell those words, but instead, he gritted his teeth.

Eventually, the second desperate comm from Skull finally convinced Skywalker. And now they were here, stopped in the middle of the factory, surrounded by armed droids. 

“Well what do you suggest we do? Blow it up with a grenade? Every battle droid in this place will try to kill us!” Skywalker glanced downward, arms crossed and the stone-like Sith artifact on the concrete floor beneath him. They had opened the case, now staring at the smooth object as they stood in a triangle around it. 

Cody didn’t have an answer, but he was fairly certain some sort of Force -osik could do the trick. 

“Can’t you do something– with the Force, I mean?” Cody whispered and pointed toward the artifact, “It’s a rock you said it yourself. It can’t be that difficult to destroy.” 

Skywalker grunted, and uncrossed his arms, then lifted a hand to scratch at his chin. The thoughtless movement made a spike of longing run through Cody’s chest. It was an unconscious movement, but one that was undeniably reminiscent of Obi-Wan and his tendency to stroke absently at his beard while deep in thought. 

Cody needed to go to him, to protect him. He didn’t want to wait any longer. 

Cody tried to ignore the guilt that clawed at him; if only that he had tried harder to convince Obi-Wan to drop the mission, to defy the expectations of a clearly flawed decision of the Jedi Council. 

“I need to go to him.” Cody said with a swallow, “I don’t care how you do it, but get rid of it. The safety of your Master depends on it.” 

With that, and without a sound, Cody ran for exit. 

   Skull cursed under his breath as he– yet again– watched Kenobi ruthlessly stab his lightsaber into the remains of a tree trunk he had already cut from its roots. While the Jedi had initially referenced Ventress in his chaotic screams, now he seemed to think he was caught in the midst of an onslaught of clankers. 

Skull knew the Jedi were strong and were built for endurance, but Kenobi had been at it for almost half-an-hour at full speed, never slowing for a second, even to catch his breath. Blood still painted his face and neck, making him look all the more deranged as he destroyed nearly anything that crossed his path. 

“We need to get him to stop.” Oxy reiterated for now the third time, not looking away from the forest of carnage in front of them. 

“Yeah? And how do you suggest we do that when he’s swinging his lightsaber around like that?” Skull snapped and gesticulated to another violent swing of the blue blade in the distance. He immediately shook his head apologetically, “Sorry.” 

Oxy just sighed and checked his comlink. “I sent another message to Cody– where the kriff is he?” Skull shared the sentiment. If anyone was going to get the General out of whatever stupor this was, Cody was going to be their best shot. 

As if on cue, Skull received a text comm message and stared down at the words. 

Look right. 

Behind a line of trees, Cody was crouched behind some brush, just the slight gold accents of his armor visible through the tall grass. Skull sighed in relief. With shaky fingers, he typed out his response. 

On my signal, come here. We need your help. 

Skull waited for Kenobi to turn around, slashing into more fallen branches where he faced away from Cody’s position in the brush, and then signaled the Commander to join him. With the grace of a skilled soldier, Cody wasted no time running behind the silhouettes of trees, footsteps silent among the loud gasps that emitted from Kenobi’s form. 

Cody crouched and crawled beneath the ramp, pulling his bucket from his head, “Hallucinations…” He said, near breathless, and eyes slightly red-rimmed. 

“It’s been at it for a long time– he is going to hurt himself.” Skull said, watching another tree fall to the ground, “Do you think you can distract him? Oxy and I think we can disarm him from behind.” Oxy looked wary at the suggestion, but their options were limited. It seemed unlikely Obi-Wan would willingly set down his lightsaber at this point. 

“I can… I can try.” Cody said, still whispering.

“Any luck on getting the artifact destroyed?” Oxy asked cautiously, flinching at the sound of another fallen tree-trunk. 

“They’re working on it… there were complications.” Cody answered with a swallow and held his bucket tightly in his arms. “Let’s focus on Obi-Wan– he’s–” Cody bit his lip, “He looks bad.”

Skull agreed, the image in front of them was borderline horrific, if purely for blood alone. 

“We can stay here if you can get him turned around in the opposite direction.” Skull said, “We’ll disarm him from behind and see if we can get him on the ground. Let’s hope he doesn’t… throw us.” The last thing Skull needed was to be Force-thrown across a forest. 

With a nod, Cody slipped on his bucked and dislodged his blaster. Then, he was gone, racing across the littering of branches and stumps to secure the General’s attention. 

Skull held his breath watching as Cody launched himself in front of the General, still keeping a reasonable distance, and one arm raised above his head as if it were a sign of surrender. The hand with his blaster was firmly locked behind his back, a precautionary measure. 

“Obi-Wan! Look at me! It’s not real– none of it is real!” Cody yelled out, his voice hoarse and eyes watering. Skull wanted to look away.

Kenobi paused, his lightsaber snapping upward from where he had stabbed it into a trunk now laid horizontally across the ground. He looked hazy still, eyes not quite focused, but he stared in Cody’s direction, eyes open wide for a moment.

“C-Cody?” Kenobi said, lightsaber blade disappearing into the hilt and stumbling toward Cody. 

Skull motioned to Oxy and they made their move, feet slamming into the mud and flattened brush just as General turned his back. They reached him in seconds, Skull’s hand successfully dislodging the metal hilt from Kenobi’s grip as Oxy wrapped his arms around Kenobi, pulling him down to his knees.

“Cody! M-make it stop!” Kenobi yelled as Oxy pulled him backwards so he was almost sitting in his lap. Skull threw the lightsaber toward the ramp and pinned the General’s legs to the ground with his hands as he thrashed violently in their hold. 

Suddenly, Cody was there on his knees by Kenobi’s side, a shaking hand pressing into the man’s bloody hair. “Obi-Wan, I need you to listen to me. It’s Cody– It’s me.”  

Desperation. Anguish. Longing. 

A thousand emotions flashed through Cody’s eyes and Skull hated himself for noticing; it felt like a violation. 

“No– no! Cody please. Please. ” Obi-Wan resisted, his uncoordinated movements causing his arms and head to slam into the mud. 

It was a useless plea, Cody seemed to realize that, but still he whispered every variation of, “It will be over soon.” 

Not soon enough, Skull thought bitterly as he reviewed their options again. For now, the General was incapacitated, but Skull feared that wouldn’t last for long. He had only had a single bout of sanity in his rampage through the forest, only for a few seconds at that, and he was bound to attempt the use of the Force to throw them aside any minute now. 

Think Skull. Think. 

Then, it came to him.

“Pain. That’s what you said– the only way to keep him sane is with pain.” The words rang in Skull’s mind, making his stomach twist with impending nausea. It was his job to protect the Vode and the General, and he took that to heart. It was his job to stop pain and to heal wounds and to make sure everyone was alive and well. To inflict pain, on purpose, went against every fiber of his being.

Yet, there didn’t seem to be another viable option. Whatever effect the sedative dosage had earlier was not enough to stop the artifact’s effectiveness, and without the use of the Force, there wasn’t another method they had left to try. 

Cody looked up, lips drawn into a wavering line. “I– there isn’t another option.” Equally as much as Skull wanted to protest, they both understood in that moment the gravity of the situation. 

It had to be done. 

Oxy looked on warily. Skull shook his head and cleared his throat, “We need an injury painful enough to keep him present, but not bad enough we can’t fix it. Something that won’t bleed to profusely– he can’t lose much more blood. A laceration, maybe ah, uh–”

“A burn.” Cody spoke up, iron grip on Obi-Wan’s white-knucked hands. “Bail burned him.”

Skull and Oxy both stared at him knowing exactly what he meant. The scars on Kenobi’s knee had been enough to make that inference before. Skull eyed the lightsaber where it had landed in the grass next to the ramp. 

“Alright…” He said softly as Oxy stood, quickly retrieving the gleaming metal hilt. One look at it was enough to make Skull nauseous. 

“I can do it.” Skull spoke in the most confident tone he could muster. He was the lead medic of the 212th, a leader to many others and a friend to the two men suffering before him. No matter how visceral his initial reaction was, this was his job, and it needed to be done. 

Oxy handed him the lightsaber and Skull held it tightly in his hand. He scanned over the General’s body, considering the best location for the burn. There wasn't a good choice, it would be torturous no matter what, but he needed a location that would induce the least permanent damage. 

“Cody, roll up his sleeve. I’ll use his left forearm.” It was simple, the forearm was easy to pin down, and it wasn’t the arm he held his lightsaber with. Skull didn’t feel like damaging his leg again. 

It felt like slow motion, Cody rolling up Kenobi’s sleeve, Skull’s finger on the trigger of the lightsaber, the sizzling burning noise that emitted from the blue blade.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Skull said, voice low in the midst of more sobbing, more tears streaming from his General’s eyes, even before the blade touched his skin, “I’m so sorry.” 

With that, Skull lowered the lightsaber toward the exposed skin. 

   “Um, Master?” The prolonged silence was broken by Ahsoka’s soft voice, “I have an idea.”

For a moment, Skywalker allowed himself a dubious look, but then offered his Padawan a nod, “Sure, Ahsoka.”

“Well– I was thinking I might be able to use the Force to um– implode it? And you could suppress the sound?”

Anakin searched his mind for recollection of what he had been taught about using the Force as a sound suppressant. He recalled a time in his youth where Obi-Wan had used it to suppress the noise of a crying rescued child as they had pushed through a thick crowd of strangers in some city on Bespin. 

It had seemed easy enough then, but he didn’t want to go in blind. 

“Let me try it first.” He muttered, “Make a noise or something.” 

Ahsoka tapped her foot lightly against the concrete floor, eyes trained on Anakin as he sucked in a deep breath and focused on the Force’s energy swirling within his mind. He closed his eyes, channeling everything toward the distant tapping noise. As he did so, the tapping noise faded into obscurity, hidden behind an invisible wall he had constructed to stop its effects. 

After a moment, he snapped his eyes open, focus gone, and the tapping noise returned. 

Ahsoka offered a soft smile. “It worked.” She said, and pointed toward the artifact, “Now just to suppress an implosion.” 

Anakin sighed. Right, that was the hard part. While it hadn’t required much focus to stop a small tapping noise, to stop the noise of an implosion would require much more effort. 

“Let’s hope this works.” He said, “Now, let’s see about imploding this thing.” 

   Die Jedi. Die Jedi. Die Jedi. Die Jedi.

The chant of the Sith burned him from the inside out, searing in his bloodstream and rattling against the inside of the Skull. Well it hurt on a physical level, it pierced into the Force with a strength so severe and endless that it made the Force itself hurt.  

Obi-Wan’s vision was hazy, coated with a mixture of blood and flashing images of war. 

Ventress periodically flashed across his view, then droids, then Anakin’s face, covered with burns and soot. It made him scream, the noises hurtling from his throat without permission. 

I’m right here. 

It will be over soon.

I’m sorry.

Among the commands to die there was an odd interspersing of comforts; they floated just around the edges of his consciousness. Just as quickly as they would come, they were gone again, replaced with an even louder more menacing chant of the same words.

Die Jedi. Die Jedi. Die Jedi. 

Obi-Wan thought he heard himself beg to make it stop, but he couldn’t be sure. Nothing felt real anymore, any previous emotions replaced with pain and horror and death. 

I’m sorry, Sir. I’m so sorry.

He heard those words again, then whatever pain that had materialized in the Force slowly morphed into something more tangible, something easier to grip, but no less painful.

He screamed this time, and it felt concrete, like it wasn’t just a dream. His eyes slammed open, revealing three clones– Cody, he recognized instantly among the faces.

His arm burned like nothing else, Skin on fire as he watched a blue blade press against his exposed arm.

But at least this pain was manageable, palpable, real. 

Die Jedi. 

The command didn’t stop, but it slowly faded into a whisper.

It was a perplexing kind of relief. 

   “It’s working.” Oxy said, “General?” Skull paused, bringing the lightsaber up where it had only been burning against the flesh for a few seconds. Yet, the General’s eyes were clearer, less muddled, and his screams had been reduced to a whimper. 

Kenobi blinked, his other hand reaching out, “C-Cody?” This time, his voice seemed to have a level of coherence that it had not before. 

The Commander did not immediately react, shock still painted across his features, but he reached out to grasp the General’s bloody and outstretched hand, “Obi-Wan. Are you…” 

“T-thank you. Thank you. Keep going.” Obi-Wan’s sigh was desperate, but also relieved as more tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Are you sure, Sir?” Skull asked shakily, lightsaber still held inches above the new burn wound. It looked awful and smelled of burning skin.

“Yes. It won’t–” He sucked in labored breath and squeezed his eyes shut in pain. Skull wanted to vomit. “It won’t stop unless it k-kriffing h-hurts.” Kenobi hiccuped out the words, chest heaving violently. 

“Look at me, Obi-Wan.” Cody commanded, now leaning over so the General could see his face, “Don’t stop looking at me. Skywalker is almost done destroying that karking artifact, and it will all be over soon. I promise.”  

Skull appreciated the distraction, and with a heavy heart, brought the blade of the lightsaber down again, pressing against the already corrupted flesh. Kenobi produced a gut-wrenching scream, one that Skull would be hard-pressed to forget, but yet, he kept going. He didn’t stop until Kenobi begged him to, but even then, Skull knew the General well enough to know he would ask for it again, no matter how bad the pain became. 

It repeated for another few minutes, and Skull’s impatience began to show, but Cody reassured him Skywalker would hold true to his word, the artifact would be destroyed. 

Burning flesh, blue light, sparks. With Kenobi’s every scream felt like another scar on Skull’s soul. 

He was about to give up, about to tell the General he couldn’t fucking do it anymore, but then–

“Stop!” Kenobi yelled, and his body suddenly relaxed, all of the tension seeping from his skin and bones in the matter of a split second. 

Kenobi cried, not sobbed, but cried.  His tears came out liberally and Skull realized finally, that these were not longer tears of pain, but desperate relief.

“I’m sorry, Obes. It’s over now, I promise, it’s over.” Cody whispered, hands crawling into Obi-Wan’s hair as he pressed their foreheads together. It would have been a sweet moment, but the smell of burning flesh, and the horrific sight of fresh lightsaber burns curling down the length of Kenobi’s arm was enough to make Skull rush to his feet, barely making it only a few feet away before the contents of his stomach came up and fell into the brush. 

   The cabin was silent as they floated the stretcher into the open space. 

Skywalker had yet to say anything other than to confirm the artifact had been destroyed. Instead, he stared at his former Master with something like guilt written in his eyes. Kenobi had looked back at him, a forgiving half-smile on his face, but there was another silent conversation going on that everyone else couldn’t hear. Force -osik, of course.

Cody didn’t leave the side of the stretcher, even as Oxy pressed the hypo of sedation into the side of Kenobi’s neck when Skywalker had Ahsoka into the cockpit and away from the image of Obi-Wan’s brutal burns. Skull didn’t blame Cody and didn’t bother to make fun of his clinginess like he usually would. 

The silence persisted as Skull rummaged through his kit, searching for scissors, and then began to cut off the General’s soiled and bloodied robes. The man would be sore when he roused after having spent so long fighting off invisible threats. Not to mention, the burn wounds would continue to feel fiery until Skull could assess the severity of them and then rinse and clean them. 

Skull pulled away the tattered robes, enlisting Oxy’s help to pull them out from underneath his back. Once Kenobi’s chest was bare, Skull was happy to find that no other wounds, beyond a baseline level of bruising he had expected, had been inflicted.

Relieved, he handed Oxy the burn kit, hands shaking as he passed them over. Oxy raised his eyebrows in suspicion. 

“I’m too shaky, you think you can handle it?” Skull asked, hating that his voice also shook as he spoke.

“Of course.” Oxy said, and Skull turned to go find a seat. He needed a minute to unwind, to unpack the events of the day and the actions he took.

He wouldn’t sleep for a long time. 

It felt like he had just sat down, when a shadow seemed to loom over him. 

“Skull– I wanted to say thank you.” Cody stood in front of him all of the sudden with his arms crossed over his chest. It was shocking to hear, given the fact that Skull had just damaged his boyfriend on purpose. Skull swallowed, shaking his head.

“Why? You have no reason to thank me. I–I hurt him. That’s not what a medic should do.” The words felt heavy in his mouth, and he let his eyes mindlessly trace over some scrapes on the floor.

Cody sat beside him heavily, their shoulders pressing together. 

“I do have a reason. I wouldn’t have been able to do it, but it needed to be done. You don’t give up, and you helped Obi-Wan more than I would have. So I am ordering you to accept my thanks.” Cody stood just as quickly as he sat, then just as Skull looked up at him, offered just the hint of a smile. 

“You’re… welcome.” Though the words felt wrong in mouth, he forced them out, if only to appease Cody.

“I owe you one.” 

With that, Skull leaned back and tried to stop his mind from replaying the sound of the lightsaber pressing against Kenobi’s flesh. 

Periodically in the three hours back to the Negotiator Skull checked on the General, noting that his vitals were fine each time, but he couldn't stop himself. 

Worry caged him in, barely letting him breath until they were safely landed in the hangar. 

   Kenobi’s recovery had been mostly linear with only a few minor hiccups. Burns were common injuries among Jedi, and it wasn’t Kenobi’s first lightsaber burn at all. He already knew all the rules on how to replace his bandages and gently clean the wound once the bacta had begun the baseline healing process.

This time, Kenobi had been a picture-perfect patient, a smile on his face as Skull fiddled with his IV and ran his vitals every few hours. Skull sensed it had something to do with relief, and he certainly was happy to have a cooperative Kenobi for a change. 

Similarly, Cody was less difficult than usual. He wasn’t as demanding, and his teasing about Quinlan had completely stopped. In a way, it seemed like a small amount of respect had grown between Skull and Cody, a new understanding of their places in Kenobi’s life. 

Kenobi was their General, and though their relationships with him were different on many levels, they both maintained an urge to protect, and for that, they could respect each other. 

And now, two weeks later, Skull was back to sleeping, mostly, except for the occasionally vibrant and realistic nightmare that kept him up until his shift started at 0500. 

Bitterly, Skull removed himself from bed at the mark of two weeks since the mission. He had been awake since the early morning, and he had laid in bed for hours trying to distract his mind. Even reading hadn’t helped much. 

Skull dressed himself in his scrubs, ignoring his still dirty armor that leaned against the edge of his chair in his quarters. 

He brought his breakfast and caf from the refectory to the medbay, nodding at Copper and Splint as he passed them and headed toward his lab. 

Kenobi would hopefully arrive for his check-in appointment in a matter of fifteen minutes, but Skull hoped to get his cluttered thoughts organized over a steaming breakfast before he got there. He rifled through his notes, reading over some of his thoughts from the day before where he had begun to research a new epilepsy medication for the General that would have longer lasting effects. 

He had almost drained his cup of caf and finished his oatmeal when there was a faint knock on his door. He checked the time, noting that Kenobi’s appointment was still ten minutes away and yelled, “Come in!”

To his surprise, the doors slid open and revealed Kenobi and Cody standing side-by-side in the doorway. 

“Hello, Skull. Apologies for intruding, we’re a few minutes early and Copper told us we would find you here.” The General smiled warmly, and shifted into the room, Cody hovering close to his side. 

“Oh– of course. Let’s–um–” Skull shuffled the papers on his desk into a neat pile feeling strangely flustered under their gaze. It’s because you haven’t forgiven yourself, the voice in the back of his head reminded him, “Get an examination room. You know where they are.” 

Kenobi smiled, “Of course.” 

Skull followed behind them until both of them walked into a free examination room and then he shut the door. 

“Alright,” He started, washing his hands off in the sink, “Let’s take a look.” 

Cody helped Obi-Wan bring the sling over his head. Skull had offered him one as a reminder to not kriffing use his arm, and Cody had forced the General to accept. Sure, Kenobi didn’t need to immobilize it, but it was easier than him ripping open the healing wounds once a day. 

Skull busied himself with looking at the General’s chart on his datapad while the couple bickered about whether or not Kenobi could get his undertunic over his head without help. 

“You two fight like all the time? Can’t imagine that’s very efficient when it comes to–” Skull started to say, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Skull for the love of the Force–”

“What! What? It’s a joke, Cody.” The Commander glared at him with a grunt, and things suddenly started to feel a lot more normal. Kenobi even smiled as he pulled his own tunic over his head and tossed it onto Cody’s shoulder.

“See? I’m quite alright, Cody.” He held out his arm for Skull. Now, the thick bandages hadn’t been necessary for a few days, but Skull still wanted to check and make sure there hadn’t been any tearing or damage to the wound. 

Skull noted a full range of motion, and the scarring progressed enough to satisfy him for the time being. He made a few notes on his chart and looked back up at the pair of men. There was something soft, and frankly, disgusting, in Cody’s eyes as he looked down at Kenobi where he sat on the bed. No matter how many times he watched the knowing looks and soft touches exchanged between the two men, it never failed to make warmth burn in his chest. 

The General deserved someone as good as Cody, and if anyone was going to keep the General out of Skull’s hair, his bet was on the Commander of the 212th. 

“Alright, it looks like you are healing up nice, but as per usual I will remind you both,” He eyed Cody specifically, a blush already spreading against the tops of the Commander’s cheeks before Skull had the chance to finish his sentence, “Absolutely no physical exertion for another week. None.” 

“Kriff, Skull we don’t need a–” Cody started.

“No– no kriffing. That’s what I meant.” Skull retorted, watching Kenobi barely choke back a laugh as Cody turned on his heel, eyes rolling as he threw Obi-Wan’s discarded tunics at him. 

The minute Cody left the room with a huff, Kenobi let out a chuckle and reached for his tunic, carefully pulling them over his head with only a small wince, “He’s not in the mood for jokes today, I suppose.” The General said with a shrug and held out a hand to Skull.

Skull, only hesitating for a second, shook his hand, offering a sheepish smile.

“A handshake, Sir?” He asked, and Kenobi’s lip quirked upward.

“Yes– as the first part to the many thanks I owe you.”

There it was again, the crushing guilt that had been boiling steadily in Skull’s stomach. He swallowed, eyes trained on the floor. 

“I don’t need or deserve your thanks, Sir. I did what I had to, and I am more than happy to have taken that burden away from Cody.” There was no use trying to tell the General that he was guilty, that he would never come to terms with the way he had inflicted pain.

“You do deserve my thanks. Senator Organa was in the same position as you, and I know he feels a sense of shame– but you saved me from something much worse than just pain. So thank you, I owe you my life.” Kenobi’s hand pressed against Skull’s shoulder, the warmth radiated through his shirt. 

“Well– I suppose you are welcome.” Skull said after a pause, and looked up to find that Kenobi’s soft smile had yet to disappear. “Now, would you stay out of my medbay for once? I’m banning injuries for the next week.” 

He couldn’t help but change the subject, not wanting to rehash the haunting memories anymore.

“No guarantees, but I’ll try my best.”

With that, Kenobi floated out of the room, the perfect picture of grace.

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

heat and electric

Part eight of 212th Medic Skull Has Had Enough on ao3

Part one | Part two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part 6 | Part 7

Summary:

Eventually, Obi-Wan looked up, eyes bloodshot, and offered what Cody assumed to be a meager attempt at a smile. “I’m– I am alright.” His voice was weak, coated in a thick grumbling tone, unconvincing at best. Cody grimaced.

“It’s– you don’t have to be.” Cody reminded him, stoking a thumb over the small bruises along his jaw hating the way Obi-Wan flinched slightly under his touch. “You had a seizure, that must be–”

“It’s not the first time.”

(Or, the aftermath of Obi-Wan's seizure. Later, heat stroke.)

Word Count: 5,781

“Everyone out, besides Cody and Oxy. Get out.” 

Cody could barely hear Skull’s words. 

Seizure.  

The word stuck in his brain, but he could barely think. Whatever focus he had was far gone, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Obi-Wan. 

Seizure. 

He had heard of them, sure, but Cody didn’t know what they entailed, didn’t know that he would ever witness one. Yet, he had watched Obi-Wan, already bruised and covered in electric burns, fall victim to one. It still didn’t feel like reality.

Cody couldn’t move, frozen in place and time. 

The remaining medics and Quinlan shuffled out of the room leaving the stale silence of the room, save for Obi-Wan’s whistling breaths where he lay facing away from Cody. Skull had arranged him into a position on his side– he’d called it a recovery position. Cody just watched numbly, unspeaking. 

“Cody?” Someone– not Obi-Wan– asked eventually, and the Commander glanced upward, trying to stop the trembling in his fingers where they gripped at the sides of his chair. Skull had finally helped Obi-Wan into a sitting position, and was now staring in Cody’s direction expectantly. 

How long had it been? 

“Cody?” Skull asked again, worry evident on his face, “It’s been ten minutes, he’s going to be okay, just unwell for… awhile.” 

Cody blinked. Ten minutes? He swallowed, and grasped the edges of the chair. 

Without his express permission, Cody’s body moved, and he walked around the outside of the bed. 

Numb. His entire form felt numb.

Obi-Wan’s back was covered in blood stained bandages, which was already alarming, but when Cody caught a look at his front, he could barely stand the obvious discomfort written on Obi-Wan’s face.

He was pale, eyes shut tightly as he shivered in place. 

“Just a second, General. Just going to apply pressure to these…” Oxy worked quickly, pulling back the bandages trying to stop the reopened wounds from bleeding anymore than they already had. 

“Obi-Wan…” Cody said softly, tentatively sitting down on the medical bed by Obi-Wan’s side, ignoring the way that Skull hovered inches away, almost like he was waiting for him to keel over. 

Obi-Wan failed to respond, his trembling hands pulling towards his face to press over his eyes. He shuddered once, opening his mouth like he might say something, then shut it abruptly. 

“It’s okay, I’m right here.” Cody whispered, moving closer so he could gently press up against Obi-Wan’s arm. He wished he could hug him, pull him into an embrace like he wanted to, but the burns were everywhere, a distinct reminder of all the impending questions Cody needed to ask.

Not now. Obi-Wan didn’t need that now. 

“...I don’t–” Obi-Wan spoke softly, then gently shook his head once.

“Do you feel sick, General?” Skull asked, leaning down a little to take a proper look at Obi-Wan’s face. He seemed less concerned now, but it did little to ease Cody’s own nerves. 

“Mhm.” Was all Obi-Wan said, voice muffled by his hands. He paused for a few seconds, “I just– I want to go to my quarters.” He spoke the words unnaturally quickly, “Please.”

Cody glanced up to Skull, who looked somehow horrified and skeptical all at once. He pursed his lips, arms crossed over his chest. Cody already knew the medic wouldn’t want to allow it, not now, not with unexpected seizures and open wounds, and blood everywhere. Cody wished he could protest, demanding that he be allowed to take Obi-Wan home and tuck him in bed, safe from all the reminders of pain and suffering that the medbay seemed to elicit. 

Yet, Skull wasn’t stupid, and Cody wasn’t a doctor. 

He needed to find a compromise. 

“Skull,” Cody started, “Give me time alone with the General, only a few minutes.” Cody said, hoping his tone sounded as commanding as he meant it to. 

Skull looked no less skeptical, and reached for a datapad sitting on the table by the medical bed. “I have tests to run, Cody. There’s a poss–”

“Can it wait ten minutes?” Cody cut in, noticing the way that Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably by his side, sucking in a pained breath as Oxy pressed another bandage against his back. 

“Yes– fine. You will alert me if anything– anything at all – seems off.” Skull said, tone clipped but somehow still empathetic. He looked between Cody and Obi-Wan and sighed. “Almost done, Oxy?” He asked, impatient as ever. 

“All set, General.” Oxy said, and rounded the bed, “Try and stay still; don’t lay on your back.”

Cody nodded when Obi-Wan didn’t, then pulled the curtain around the bed when the two medics walked away, Skull heading for his storage closet, and Oxy toward the lab. 

When he returned to the bed, Obi-Wan had lowered his hands to his lap and the trembling had been reduced to a few odd shakes every few seconds. Cody pulled the chair in front of him, sitting down and leaning forward, pressing the palms of his hands on Obi-Wan’s jaw gently.

He wanted to ask about Kadavo, about the thousands of little wounds that littered Obi-Wan’s body. Who hurt you? Where do I find them? 

Cody resisted the urge, knowing it would do little to smooth out the already existent tension that filled the space between them 

Eventually, Obi-Wan looked up, eyes bloodshot, and offered what Cody assumed to be a meager attempt at a smile. “I’m– I am alright.” His voice was weak, coated in a thick grumbling tone,  unconvincing at best. Cody grimaced.

“It’s– you don’t have to be.” Cody reminded him, stoking a thumb over the small bruises along his jaw hating the way Obi-Wan flinched slightly under his touch. “You had a seizure, that must be–”

“It’s not the first time.” Obi-Wan cut him off, then suddenly clamped a hand over his mouth, skin seemingly becoming a shade lighter in the matter of seconds.

Cody reached for the bin left by the side of the bed and managed to push it into Obi-Wan’s arms just in time. Obi-Wan emptied his stomach of whatever liquid still remained and breathed heavily, lips red. I’m sorry, Cody wanted to say, but the words didn’t quite make it out.

Not the first time .

The prospect of it made Cody’s skin crawl. Had he missed something? “Not the first time?” He asked, placing the bin aside and wiping Obi-Wan’s lips with a tissue he’d found on the table by the bed. 

“When I was young– a padawan. Triggered by… electricity, among other things. It has been… a very long time.”

Cody didn’t want to ask why, as a padawan, he had any exposure to raw electricity on more than one occasion, but he kept his mouth shut. 

“I– they beat me, constantly, for days with electro-staffs on Kadavo.” Obi-Wan said after a momentary pause, then looked up, searching Cody’s eyes as if he wanted approval, like he wanted to know if the admission would offend the Commander.

Cody was left with nothing to say, nothing productive at least. I’ll kill them all. Fury spread through his veins, but he was level-headed enough to know that Obi-Wan wouldn’t want him to say that. Cody was too empathetic to even allow the thought to simmer for more than a few seconds before he wiped it away. 

“You need to tell, Skull.” He murmured after a few minutes. He had pressed his forehead against Obi-Wan’s.

Obi-Wan leaned back, eyebrows raised. “I need to?” He asked.

“Yes– he needs to know. What if this happens again? What if it happens again when you aren’t in the medbay? There has to be some sort of medication or–” Cody caught himself rambling, then shook his head, eyes trained on a tiny fleck of dirt left on the floor next to Obi-Wan’s soiled clothes. “I can’t lose you.”

Obi-Wan sighed, tipping his face into his hands again. “I– I don’t feel well.” He said quietly, and Cody caught him as he swayed. Fuck. They were going to have to talk about it, but Cody knew he had pushed too far. Obi-Wan looked exhausted, he was hurting, body barely keeping him upright. 

Suddenly, Skull’s head poked into the enclosed space, his eyebrows raised as he observed Cody’s position between Obi-Wan’s legs. “Oh– am I interrupting something?” He asked, in that tone that made Cody’s blood boil.

Sure, Skull knew things now, but Cody thought the admission would at least keep him quiet. No– that didn’t seem to be Skull’s style at all. It was almost as if Skull liked to push his buttons even more now. 

“No.” Cody answered bluntly. It certainly hadn’t been five minutes, much less ten.

“General, I brought you some new briefs– thought you might appreciate Cody’s help putting them on instead.” Fuck . Cody cursed internally, already imagining all the ways he could throw Skull up against the nearest wall, but Skull only threw the clean set of briefs at him and closed the curtains before leaving. 

Karking Skull . 

Cody eyed the wet patch on Obi-Wan’s groin, grimacing as he saw the red that had spread across Obi-Wan’s cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry– that just happens.” Obi-Wan whispered the words.

“Oh, Ob’ika, it’s okay. Let me help.” 

Cody made quick work of slipping off Obi-Wan’s old briefs and getting the new ones on him, only cringing once when Obi-Wan winced in pain as the fabric brushed against his ankle. 

They sat quietly for a few more minutes, Cody hoping the momentary freedom from medical attention would be enough to keep Obi-Wan calm. Then Skull returned, Oxy behind him rolling a mobilized tank of bacta, the strong medicinal smell already causing Cody’s toes to curl.

“Alright, General, let’s get that leg fixed.” 

Skull had endured two days more of Obi-Wan in the medbay. 

And really, Cody as well. The Commander had only left once, just to return with a new set of tunics discreetly tucked away in his pack. 

Obi-Wan felt ill for a day, his post-seizure state keeping him pinned to the bed. In some ways, that was a good thing. Typically, Skull would have fought him to keep him laying down, but Kenobi had barely protested. 

Cody was truly to be blamed for the General’s strangely cooperative behavior. He was a beacon of consistency and reason and care. He slept in the uncomfortable chair by the medical bed without a question or complaint, even convincing the usually stubborn General to agree to a short stint in the bacta tank to get his electrical burns healed up faster. 

It was both fascinating, and horrifying watching them interact. 

Skull watched the General closely for both days, watching for the prolonged stares and signs of an aura. It almost worried him more when none of those symptoms presented. While a single seizure could have been an isolated event, Kenobi had seemed… relatively unphased. Sure, he was sick, suffering from a number of other injuries, but he hadn’t tried to deny the fact he had a seizure at all. 

Out of character. Stange. 

So Skull discharged him, albeit with some reluctance, but with a firm look sent in Cody’s direction, and his famed command to, “Keep the physical activity to a minimum, Sir, even if Cody insists.”

That earned him a glare from Cody, and a reminder that his face would look better not smashed into a wall. Cody loved to bluff, and Skull really liked to call him on it. 

Days later, Skull began his in depth research.

“I find it hard to believe that this was his first seizure.” Skull murmured, eyes scanning over the General’s documents, yet again. It seemed to have become a trend these days.

“He never explicitly said it was his first– but I think you’re right, he was… too calm.” Oxy had taken half of the stack of flimsies and had kicked his legs up onto his desk as he scanned over them. 

“There’s nothing– not since he was an adult, at least.” Skull shook his head, rubbing over his eyes before he arranged the last of the flimsi that pertained to Obi-Wan’s twentieth to twenty-fifth years. He reached for the next stack, “Onto fifteen-to-nineteen.” He said, mostly to himself. 

“Don’t you think he would have mentioned it?” Oxy said, forcing Skull to glare at him. How many times had he complained to Oxy about the General withholding information? Hundreds? Thousands of times?

Skull scoffed, “Of course not– he probably would try and explain it away with some Force-osik.” 

Skull scanned through another page, then another, then–

His eyes caught on something notable.

– triggers include excessive alcohol consumption, prolonged malnutrition, prolonged exposure to extreme heat, and/or dehydration, contact with electrical current–

Skull stopped reading– it was textbook, completely obvious to his trained eye as a medic, but apparently diagnosed as something called, “Trigger-Based Vision Events (TBVE).” 

Really, it was banthashit, some kriffing made-up Jedi idiocy for an easily diagnosable issue.

Epilepsy.

He ripped the page out of the file folder and held it up to Oxy. “No wonder I missed it– guess they’re blaming the Force. Typical.” 

Oxy took the flimsi into his hands and read it quickly, mouth drawn into a hard line. “Fucking Jedi. Doesn’t explain why there isn’t anything in his more recent files.” 

It was a good point; Skull struggled to believe that there hadn’t been a single event noted since the General was a teenager, but if the triggers listed were true to his condition, it was entirely a possibility that Kenobi had managed to avoid seizures for years. Skull was sure he wasn’t medicated either, it wasn’t something he would miss in all the time knowing the General.

Then, an idea came to mind– Quinlan. 

Quinlan was a Jedi, and from what Skull had collected, he and the General had grown up together, and had remained rather close. Of anyone, including Cody, he was probably the one with the most information. 

If he asked Kenobi, of course he would downplay things. Cody would be honest, but he had very little material to work with, given he had never reported a similar event to Skull.

A third party seemed like an obvious choice… and perhaps a good excuse to see Quinlan. 

Quinlan. 

Skull loathed himself and the stupid, endlessly irritating way his brain kept conjuring up his image whenever his thoughts were clear. Truthfully, Skull hadn’t been around many natborns, most of his time spent with Kenobi, Skywalker, and Ahsoka. Sure, he had seen others beyond the three Jedi he worked with, but none of them quite as distracting as Quinlan.

“I have an idea.” He said to Oxy, hoping he wouldn’t catch on, “What if I talk to Quin? Kenobi’s old Jedi friend. He probably knows something.” 

Oxy had stopped flipping through Kenobi’s file and snorted as he dropped his feet onto the floor. “Oh the tall pretty Jedi you had your eye on? Whatever you want, Cody.”

Fuck, Oxy was observant.

“Whatever Ox, you’re the one who called him pretty, not me.” 

Skull figured Quinlan would come alone, but much to Skull’s surprise, then immense dread, Cody followed not far behind.

Kriff. Cody, to his credit, at least looked on edge enough that he would hopefully miss any of Skull’s lingering signs of attraction. Hopefully. 

“Skull! Great to see you when Obes isn’t halfway dead.” Quinlan said, his whole face smiling as he held out his hand for Skull to shake. 

Unexpectedly, Skull was pulled in for some strange natborn pseudo-hug that started with a handshake and ended with a slap on the back. “Erm– hello Quin.” 

He tried, and failed to keep the warmth from creeping into his cheeks, but Quinlan’s smile, a thunderous laugh did little to help. “Cody.” Skull said after a moment, noticing the way that Cody stood off to the side, something like curiosity painted across his face. 

“Skull. You wanted to speak with Vos about the General, and I thought I should be present.” Of course, how could Skull forget that Cody was now the General’s partner; they were so kriffing domestic.

Skull led the pair of men over to his desk, motioning to the two seats across from him as he sat heavily in his chair. 

“Well, if you need a full rundown of all the shitty things Obes has let himself go through, I can name about one-hundred and thirty-seven events– just off the top of my head.” Quinlan leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable, and offered Skull another warm smile. 

Skull returned it, his cheeks still burning despite his best efforts. “Oh well– I had something a little more specific in mind.” 

“Kriff it– I’ve been itching to tell someone. You look like you enjoy a good story.” Quinlan said, earning him a glare from the Commander.

“C’mon Vos, we don’t have all day.” Cody said, eyes still on Skull, now just a hint, a horrifying hint, of a smirk on his face. 

Skull was going to have to do better at schooling his face.

He cleared his throat, looking down at his notes. “I’ll start with this: the General has epilepsy.”

Neither of the men blinked, or said anything. Cody, however, didn’t look particularly surprised. Skull made an educated guess that the General had told him since the seizure had happened. Knowing Cody, he would have had more to say if that wasn’t true. 

“The Jedi called it ‘Trigger-Based Vision Events,’ which frankly, is stupid.” Skull continued, earning a chuckle from Quinlan.

“Agreed.” Quin said. “Go on.”

“Quin, I specifically need to know what you can remember about these seizures? They started when he was a teenager– caused by triggers– but they didn’t seem to continue into his twenties.” Skull tried not to make the question sound too accusatory, not wanting to imply that the General wasn’t taking care of himself. Cody would have his head if he did make such an accusation. 

Quinlan thought for a moment, giving Skull a chance to observe the curve of his jawline, and the way his full lips curled downward as he thought. 

Cody’s eyebrows rose as Skull glanced in his direction, now a fully smug look spread across his features. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“I don’t remember it happening often, but sometimes on a mission, he would have these small… blanks. He would be gone for a few seconds– then back to his old boring self. He called those visions, but they weren’t. Haven’t seen one of those in five years.” 

Skull considered that for a moment. Of course they hadn’t been reported, it sounded like most of his seizures had been absence seizures, barely noticeable when compared to the tonic-clonic. “Any like the one you saw the other day?” He asked Quin.

“No– unless you want to count the time–”

“No, that doesn’t count.” Cody cut in, voice deep and gruff. Quin held back a laugh, clutching his stomach, bicep flexing as he did so. Skull ignored said flexing as best as he was able to. 

Skull glanced between them before turning to Cody, “And Cody? Seen anything?” 

“No– neither.” He answered, to the point like always, “I just found out about them myself. I asked him to tell you, but I figured you would figure it out anyway.” 

Idiots, the both of them, wasting his time like that. Nevertheless, Skull continued, getting to the point just like Cody liked to.

“Anything since the seizure the other day?” Skull asked, just to make sure, if anything; he hadn’t received much of an update since the General left the medbay. 

“Yes Cody, anything you noticed in your shared quarters?” Quinlan chimed in, echoing exactly what Skull thought he might say. Damnit, he was perfect. 

“...no.” Cody answered as evenly as possible.

There was more discussion, more questions, more banter, and Skull could feel his own fondness creeping into his tone, Cody still watching with wide, observant eyes. 

Quin stood, hands on his hips, some time later and grabbed his lightsaber from his side. “Well boys, duty calls, and I should have been out of here three hours ago.” Quinlan turned to face Skull, offering another warm smile, “Skull, might need to schedule a check-up with you next time I’m on the Negotiator, you’re much nicer than Vokara Che.” 

“Oh– of course… Quin. It was nice to see you.” Skull hated how the awkwardness layered his tone, and the way that he could feel Cody’s burning gaze on his face even as Quinlan walked toward the exit with a wave. 

“Oh this is unbelievable.” Cody’s voice cut into Skull’s consciousness.

“What?” Skull said, standing abruptly and rounding the desk, trying to lead Cody toward the door as quickly as possible.

“Oh, you know what.” Cody said and Skull could hear his stupid smile in his voice. “Wonder what he needs checked, Skull– bet I can guess.” Skull could have never predicted this, would never live it down. Fuck, he needed more blackmail material on Cody.

“You’re full of shit, Cody.” Skull shot back, “Now get out of my medbay, or I’m gonna give you a reason to be here.” 

For the first time ever, Skull saw Cody laugh.

One week and one day after Obi-Wan’s seizure, they were assigned a mission on Jakku, one of Obi-Wan’s least favorite planets, he’d told Cody. 

While bacta had closed the open wounds, their ache had continued long afterward. Not that Obi-Wan would admit that, it was mostly Cody’s observation.

But the thing was, there wasn’t time. There never was really time to heal, or rest, or even sit in silence for an hour or two; Cody understood, he was as much a member of the GAR as anyone else. Extra rest had a high cost, and no one soldier, especially the Jedi, wanted to be responsible for that.

But the General, Obi-Wan, hadn’t even allowed himself a minute of rest it seemed. Did he really ever, though?

His skin was pale under the Jakku sun, sweat reflecting the bright light and lips cracked and dry. Cody could see the sweat stains across Obi-Wan’s back that had been slowly curling around his sides in the past hour they had been stalking through the desert just outside of Reestkii. They had been waiting for an informant, now an overly late informant, who seemed to be unbothered by keeping them waiting in the blazing heat. 

There were few times Cody was thankful to wear full armor, but the cooling mechanism, though it barely made an effect on the blazing heat of Jakku, offered some mild relief.

Obi-Wan was not so lucky, his tunics made of thick material.

Cody had watched him switch from pacing, to standing arms crossed and brow furrowed, to head hanging and shoulders sagging where he stood.

Skull glanced at him from where he stood with a number of the vode, conversing about something unimportant. Their resolve to wait in formation had since gone to the wayside and Cody could hardly bring himself to care, not when Obi-Wan looked like he was finally letting the heat get to him.

General alright?

Skull signed to Cody quickly and discreetly, eyes glancing to where Obi-Wan had sunk to a crouch, one hand planted in the sand, the other held over his brow like he was searching the horizon for something.

Standby . 

Cody signed back to him, not bothering to wait for a response before approaching Obi-Wan. 

“Obi-Wan? Cyar’ika?” Cody spoke the words low as he approached, not wanting the surrounding troopers to hear his lack of formality. He crouched next to Obi-Wan, who startled, jumping lightly and looking at Cody with wide eyes. He licked his chapped lips and offered an unconvincing smile.

“Oh! Cody– hello.” Obi-Wan said back, voice unusually coarse. Cody eyed the waterbottle sitting in front of him in the sand, then reached out to shake it. 

Kriff. It was empty. He could have sworn he saw Obi-Wan pick it up and drink from it moments earlier. Cody wondered how long it had been since he had gotten water into his system. 

“You doing alright?” He asked, trying to keep the concern in his voice at bay. 

“Of course– just is… rather warm.” Obi-Wan said, breaths coming in quicker than Cody thought they should. He swayed on his feet, Cody catching his arm, then he stood, wiping off the front of his tunic like that might eliminate the sand that was stuck to the sweat stains that now seemed to trail around the majority of his upper body and behind his knees.

“Maybe it’s time we head back into town? The informant should have come by now.” Cody realized it was a longshot, and maybe too obvious of a ploy to get Obi-Wan out of the direct heat, but to Cody’s surprise, the General took the bait.

“You’re right, I suppose. No use waiting any longer.” Obi-Wan glanced around, squinting in the bright daylight, then blinking profusely, “Can you tell the men?” He asked politely, but Cody could see the weariness reflected in his stare.

“Of course.” Cody answered.

And so he did. The men were relieved, all except for Skull, who sidled up next to Cody, a short distance behind the General who led the group with a slow, unsteady trudge alongside Waxer.

“The heat is getting to him– did he have water?” Skull asked, then answered himself, “Bet you he doesn’t… di’kut.” 

“Hey–” Cody tried to come to Obi-Wan’s defense, which wasn’t exactly justified, but it was Obi-Wan; he would defend in any case.

“Oh come on, Cody, you know it’s true.” Skull said, scoffing and shaking his head. “The minute we get back into town, you are corralling him into bed and he is drinking at least three water bottles. It’s– that’s one of his triggers, dehydration.” Nevermind the heat, which Skull had also mentioned as a possible trigger. 

Cody sucked in a breath, remembering what Skull was referring to. Right, epilepsy . Even a week wasn’t enough time for Cody to fully process the information, the sudden reappearance of a forgotten health issue that Obi-Wan seemed to take less seriously than he should. 

“I will.” Cody said, nodding in affirmation. 

He and Skull watched Obi-Wan from behind, observing how his gait became more labored the closer they got to town. Then– he stopped. 

“Kriff.” Cody heard from beside himself as he rushed forward, watching Obi-Wan bend at the waist, knees buckling into the sand before Cody or Skull could reach him. 

Kriff was right. 

Skull hadn’t gotten to him fast enough, and Obi-Wan’s palms dug into the hot sand. “Help me get him sitting.” The medic said to someone, but probably Cody. Waxer stepped back from Obi-Wan and Cody took his place, kneeling heavily in the dirt, now noticing the droplets of sweat curling down from Obi-Wan’s forehead to his neck.

Together, he and Skull got Obi-Wan sitting down, but it didn’t make much of a difference in Obi-Wan’s appearance. 

“Obi-Wan?” Cody called softly, trying to use his fingers to wipe away the beads of sweat that were close to falling into his eyes. Obi-Wan ignored him, eyes trained on something in the distance.

There was movement, sounds of yelling right by his ear, then Cody turned to find that Skull had scanned Obi-Wan’s temperature. It was high– far to high. Skull offered him another water bottle, and Obi-Wan sipped at it greedily before setting it aside. 

“He’s overheating– we need to get into town, need to find shade. Now, Cody.” Skull looked at him, uncompromising, unwilling to wait for Cody to be ready. 

The Commander swallowed, thirsty and tired himself, but nodded, taking Obi-Wan’s arm and hoisting him to his feet. Obi-Wan swayed, feet barely holding him prone. 

“Sorry. Sorry.” Obi-Wan whispered, trying to regain his footing, but failing. Cody clung to his arm, Skull holding him up with the other. Skull eyed him, waiting for something.

Right, Cody needed to say something. “Obi– General,” He corrected himself, noticing the group of his men who had formed a circle around them, “We have to move. It’s just a short way.”

Skull nodded in affirmation, and they moved, slowly. 

They were hardly more than a klick away from the outskirts of the city, but the walk took twice the time it should have. Obi-Wan made attempts to walk, but that almost made the walk worse. Cody’s heart thumped heavily in his chest with each bead of sweat that dropped off of Obi-Wan’s face and landed on his armour.

Is he supposed to be sweating this much? Cody wished he could ask Skull, but they were approaching the edge of the city, and the medic was already barking out orders. “Waxer, go ahead and see if anyone has cold water– or ice. Priority on the ice.” Skull looked in the other direction, “Clip, find somewhere for us to take him, we need shade.” 

Both troopers saluted, then ran in the direction of the first groupings of tents and old metal buildings.

“The rest of you go ahead and see if you can clear the way for us.” Skull said to the remaining troopers, and Cody nodded when a few of them looked in his direction for approval. 

“I’m not–” Obi-Wan stopped between them, digging his heels into the ground. His eyes had gone wide, lips stuck half open. 

“What’s wrong? Do you need to sit? Water?” Cody asked as Skull held up the bottle once again. Obi-Wan pushed it aside, bending at the waist to throw up what little water he had consumed before. 

Kark it all.

“Shit, Cody– we need to move, just– pick him up.” Cody blinked at him, then nodded hesitantly like he was a shiny in training, unsure of his objective. 

Cody nearly ran, Obi-Wan whimpering in his arms, Skull just a hair in front of him.

Cody hoped, practically prayed to the fucking Force, that someone had found shade and water and ice. He couldn’t take it, the way Obi-Wan’s pained moans rang out, and the way his hair and clothes were too damp. 

When they reached the outer limits of the city, eyes of locals all trained toward the three of them, Waxer was standing underneath a tent. 

“We’ve found a location– follow me.” Thank the kriffing Force.

They followed closely behind Waxer, and Cody’s arms began to burn, Obi-Wan’s weight becoming heavier by the second.

“Heat stroke– that’s what it is.” Skull said abruptly from behind him as they weaved through a few alleyways. Cody noted that several of his men had been posted at the entrances of the alleys, keeping the path clear for them, “When we get there, we need to get his clothes off and get him cooled down. Got it?” 

“Yes.” Cody answered, holding back the tears that threatened to well in his eyes. 

It was all too much– the electric burns, the seizure, the epilepsy, and now, heat stroke. Cody needed Obi-Wan to be fine, to be himself, but the Jedi had only gotten a few days to breathe. Cody had only gotten a few days to breathe. They needed time, but there wasn’t any time to spare.

They reached the entrance of an old, metal building when Waxer stopped, motioning toward the open door where two troopers were posted. 

Cody nodded his thanks, and walked in, immediately overtaken by sight before him. While there was no bed, a large wooden table had been cleared in someone’s rickety old kitchen. Someone threw a blanket over the table and Cody gently lowered Obi-Wan onto the table. 

One look at him revealed just how bad the situation was. Obi-Wan’s neck had become red and swollen, a rash curling up the sides. His hair was completely soaked through, and clothes nearly in the same condition. 

“Everyone out who doesn’t need to be here. Water?” Skull’s voice was commanding, capturing the attention of the surrounding troopers. 

“Right there, Skull.” Someone said, then they were gone, all of them in a split second. Or maybe Cody had frozen again. 

Cody assumed the latter when he looked up to find Skull staring at him, “Cody– c’mon, this isn’t the time to space out– help me get these off.” Then Skull was pulling at Obi-Wan’s belt. Cody followed suit, pulling at Obi-Wan’s boots and then pants. 

“General, we’re going to cool you down, hold tight.” Skull said, offering a weak smile as he ripped the undershirt from Obi-Wan’s torso. 

“Don’t feel so… Cody?” Obi-Wan looked at him hazily, fever blazing in his half-lidded eyes.

“Right here, always right here.” Cody answered as he pressed a hand on Obi-Wan’s head for a moment. He wished he had something better to say, something that could fix everything. 

Skull brought over a soaked rag, and placed it on Obi-Wan’s neck over the heat rash which had steadily crept down his torso.

Obi-Wan exhaled with the cool contact on his blistering skin. Skull handed Cody a few soaked rags, “Put these under his armpits.” Cody followed instructions and noted the way Skull had pressed more rags around Obi-Wan’s head and shoulders. Skull handed him more, “And around…” He pointed down toward Obi-Wan’s groin. No wonder he’d put Cody in charge of that.

Cody did as instructed, and watched Obi-Wan begin to shiver. The water was barely cold, maybe even lukewarm.

“Alright– alright.” Skull said, stepping back and pulling his scanner from his utility belt, “We will give it five minutes, then I’ll check his temperature– it should go down by then.” 

Cody nodded, numbly, and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He crouched by Obi-Wan’s head as Skull rummaged through his medical kit for something, “Obi-Wan?” He asked– his eyes were shut as his shivering slowed.

Obi-Wan blinked open his eyes. He looked confused, disoriented almost, like he could barely remember the events of the last hours, “Hmm…?” It was phrased as a question. 

“Feeling better at all? Cooler?” The rash hadn’t disappeared, his flesh still red and irritated. Warmth still radiated from his skin, almost burning the tips of Cody’s fingers when he reached to stroke across the outside of Obi-Wan’s ribs. 

“...no.” Obi-Wan answered eventually. Hesitantly.

No. Something wasn’t right– Obi-Wan wouldn’t say no unless–

Cody looked up to find Skull staring at him. Dehydration, extreme heat, both were listed as triggers. 

“Sir– do you think you’re going to have a seizure?” Skull asked tentatively, crouching opposite of Cody, grimacing when Obi-Wan didn’t answer for several long moments. 

“I think–” 

There wasn’t time for Obi-Wan to think, much less warn them– 

It happened again, equally as shocking as it had been only a week earlier– 

“Fuck– fuck!”

Skull swore, and Cody could only watch helplessly as Obi-Wan’s body convulsed.

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

madness

Summary: Obi-Wan shows up at Cody's quarters with an infected lightsaber wound. Cody, unfortunately, is forced to call Skull, the 212th's lead medic.

(Or, the follow-up to Skull's infamous run-in with the 212th's newest secret couple)

Word Count: 3,292

Read part one here on tumblr or on ao3

Cody, in a rare event, had three free hours to relax, let loose, just… probably sleep. 

Truthfully, he had requested that some extra time be carved out of his schedule while he was back on the Negotiator. Obi-Wan –the General– he often needed to remind himself, was away on a solo mission, one ordered by the Jedi Council. Without the General there, Cody was otherwise only filing reports away and waiting for him to get back.

Cody determinedly tried not to think about that exact fact. Typically, the Council’s missions were dangerous, often risky. Obi-Wan would usually admit later that he had to abandon his own sensical nature when it came to his recent Jedi duties. 

The thought made Cody’s hair stand up.

Deciding, against his own urges, that there was nothing he himself could do to trick his mind into thinking positively, Cody made a purposeful effort to lay down and not think. About anything.

He crawled under the sheets, which of course still smelled like Obi-Wan’s Coruscantian cologne, and forced himself to breathe deep breaths. Pulling the blankets up under his chin and rubbing his fists over he heavy eyelids, Cody redirected his thoughts away from his duties and shut his eyelids against the soft glow of light coming from underneath the door of his small quarters. 

Seconds –it seemed– later, he was blinking his eyes open to the sound of a hesitant knock against the heavy metal door of his quarters. Blearily, he blinked once or twice as he raised his head from the pillow to look at the door.

The knock came again, only slightly louder.

“Who is it?” He called out, his coarse tone coming out with the words. He hoped whoever was behind the door, particularly if it was Waxer, the little shit, would get the hint. 

The response was another, more urgent, knock.

Cody groaned, head falling back into the pillow before he threw off his covers. He pulled a loose pair of old blacks onto his legs and trudged to the door, hastily slapping the button by the door to slide it open.

The person at the door was not Waxer, but Cody immediately wished it was. 

“What the kriff happened?” 

Cody’s body went rigid as he asked the question and took in the image before him.

Obi-Wan stood in the doorway, a sheepish frown on his sweaty face. He wore a soiled tunic and ripped pants; he had one hand pressed against the side of his ribs. In the other hand, he held a rumpled pile of medical supplies in a sack made out of a medical gown. Cody could see gauze and unopened bacta patches hanging out of the sides of it. 

“I’ve made it back.” Obi-Wan said nonchalantly, though there was a nervous edge to his tone. “And nothing too serious; had a minor run in with Ventress.” 

Cody stared at him, eyebrows raised as his thoughts moved at the speed of light. He looked toward Obi-Wan’s side where his hand was clenched over the wound. Rather than coated in blood, the edges of his tunic, where it peaked out from behind his hand, were singed. 

Lightsaber wound. 

Cody didn’t need to ask for confirmation, it was more than obvious. 

“May I come in?” Obi-Wan looked at him expectantly, hardened facial features faltering for just a moment as he wobbled on his feet. 

Cody caught his arm, and pulled him gently through the door. “On the bed. Sit.” Cody said sternly, trying to keep the anger out of his tone, as he led Obi-Wan towards his bunk.

The General offered Cody a soft, apologetic smile as he sat down singerly on the bed, still clutching at his side. 

Cody’s heartbeat pounded heavily inside the walls of his chest as he took the makeshift sack of medical supplies out of Obi-Wan’s other arm and unrolled the contents on the floor. He noted a few small bacta patches, a couple rolls of gauze, several adhesive bandages, and one hypo filled with force-knows-what. 

If Cody had to guess, Obi-Wan had snagged a stim instead of a painkiller thinking he could get some paperwork out of the way once he’s been bandaged up. 

“You know, lightsaber burns aren’t minor, Obi-Wan…” Cody’s voice trailed off as he straightened up from his crouch and took a seat next to Obi-Wan’s injured side, medical supplies falling out of his arms and onto the course blanket stretched over his bunk. 

The look on Obi-Wan’s face said it all– he looked defeated, eyes cast toward the floor and lips curled into something of a terse frown.

“I’ve had enough time in the medbay recently.” He muttered and cleared his throat, “Skull would probably have more than enough to say about the last time I needed him anyway.” 

Cody barely held back a snort as his cheeks warmed a little. He had just gotten comfortable with forgetting about that force-forsaken night several weeks before. Cody had a reputation to uphold– one of strict adherence to procedures, never swaying from the books unless it was an absolute necessity– and yet, a simple visit from Skull had all but ruined that. 

He had yet to work up the nerve to talk to Skull about it. He knew the medic well enough to realize he was just as stubborn and equally loyal, but the teasing– 

That– Cody simply could not bear to endure if he didn’t strictly have to.

Instead, he dealt with the smug looks Skull repeatedly sent him from across the room during briefings. Once, he’d even overheard Skull call him loverboy in a conversation with Oxy at the mess hall. Though they pretended not to see Cody standing several troopers behind them, the Commander could barely handle the minor jab without the tops of his cheeks turning into an embarrassingly bright shade of red. 

Cody shook the thoughts out of his head as he pressed his fingers over Obi-Wan’s trembling ones that still remained over the top of the wound. “You think you can let go?” He asked the General. Obi-Wan glanced down and nodded once in affirmation, though he didn’t look so convinced of his own agreement. 

Cody was patient, his own fingers hovering inches away, as Obi-Wan gently pulled each of his shaking, bloody fingers away from the wound.

Immediately, Cody was hit with the stench of infection. The red, swollen edges of the wound all but confirmed that it had been there for days without even so much as a splash of water to flush it out. Cody swallowed, his protective nature kicking into high gear. 

“Obi-Wan, did you clean this out?” He asked as calmly as possible, voice barely wavering.

He looked up to find Obi-Wan staring straight forward, head shaking from side-to-side. He looked as though he himself didn’t want to see the damage. “I couldn’t find the time. Ventress is a capable competitor.” 

Cody tried not to imagine what Obi-Wan’s words implied, but his mind ran out of control against his will.

Was he trapped somewhere? Hiding for hours with no food or water? Barely able to stand but still fighting tooth and nail?

The thought of it made Cody sick to his stomach.

“We might need Skull afterall, Obi-Wan. This is– it’s bad.” 

“...bad?” Obi-Wan asked, eyebrows raised. He hissed as Cody pressed a gentle finger against the very edge of the red line surrounding the burn. 

“It’s infected, not a chance these bacta patches will be able heal this.” Cody glared at the fine print on the outside of the wrapper of one of the patches. They were only meant to treat minor wounds, ones sustained hours before nonetheless. 

Obi-Wan had severely underestimated the nature of the wound– the supplies he brought would barely make a dent on a papercut, much less an infected burn wound. 

“You don’t think we should at least try them? I would hate to waste his time, Cody. I’m sure Skull has more pressing–” Obi-Wan tried to resist, his dirt and blood covered hand coming back to try and cover the wound once again. Cody grabbed it before he could make contact with his exposed skin.

“No!” Obi-Wan looked momentarily alarmed, but quickly shut his mouth and put his arm back behind him where it had been before. “Listen– I have baseline medical training, but this– this is not good. This is why we have Skull anyway.”

Obi-Wan brought his other hand to rub over his beard and let out a shaky breath. He sat up a little straighter. “We’ll go to the medbay then.” He announced. Cody shot him a look of warning.

“Seriously? Not in a million rotations would I let you get up right now.” Cody stood from the bed and reached for his comlink where it sat on the table next to his bed. 

Growling under his breath, he messaged Skull with the bad news.

Lightsaber wound. Infected. Surface wound.

He paused before adding the last part and cursed under his breath.

My quarters. 

Skull was going to have a field day with that. 

Cody stepped back into Obi-Wan’s view and assessed the rest of his appearance searching for other undisclosed wounds or scrapes. Other than the slash across his side, he looked relatively unharmed. Sire, a few bruises lined the curve of his jaw and his cheeks, but that was barely anything new. Obi-Wan had a habit of putting himself in harms way regardless of whether it was really necessary or not. 

“Let’s at least get the tunic off of you.” Cody said gently and curled a hand under Obi-Wan’s jaw to try and force a moment of eye-contact. Obi-Wan looked at him with something like irritation on his face, then something softer. 

“Would you do the honors, dear?” He asked in just a whisper, eyes wide.

Cody, unable to help himself, pressed a gentle kiss to the edge of his hairline and offered up a muted smile. “Of course.”

He took the knife from his utility belt and cut through the beige layers of clothes so he could easily peel them away from Obi-Wan’s skin, gentle around the lightsaber gash. While he wasn’t nearly as soiled underneath the clothes, his ribs were clearly bruised and his neck appeared to have red marks crawling around the outside of it. 

Cody looked away, not wanting to imagine Ventress dangling Obi-Wan by his neck in the air.

“It’s rather cold here, is it not?” Obi-Wan’s voice broke him from his thoughts. 

Cody considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Concern grew in his chest. He reached to feel Obi-Wan’s forehead and was alarmed to find that the skin was scalding to the touch.

Kriff. Infection. 

Cody was medically trained enough to know that fevers with infections were never a good sign. For the first time, Cody silently wished Skull would get there faster. 

“You have a fever.” Cody said, breaking the momentary silence and brushing the rogue hairs off of Obi-Wan’s suddenly sweaty forehead. While his cheeks had looked gaunt moments before, now his face was stained red with warmth. He trembled even more, gooseflesh coating the skin of his chest. 

Cody opened his mouth to offer his reassurance, and maybe a blanket, when there was a knock at the door. 

Thank force. 

He stood and strode to the door in a few short steps before pressing the button to open the door. 

Skull stood there, arms full with both Obi-Wan’s personal medical kit and another large black bag presumably filled with additional medical supplies. He didn’t look quite as panicked as Cody thought he should, but then again, medical trauma was his everyday.

“Looks like shirts are optional in here. Noted.” Skull said, eyebrows raised as he walked into the small quarters. He looked between Obi-Wan and Cody.

Cody glanced down at his own chest and muttered a curse. Of course he was shirtless. Again. So much for napping shirtless anymore.

Cody didn’t have a chance to muster up his own snarky remark before Skull brushed by him and toward Obi-Wan’s shaking form still sitting on the bed. Cody followed him, annoyance fading immediately as he noticed the water collecting in the corners of Obi-Wan’s eyes. 

He looked overwhelmed all of the sudden, eyes flickering past Skull and landing on Cody’s own.

Cody wished he could scoop him up, hold him tightly in his arms for just a few precious minutes. 

“Sir, how long ago did this happen?” Skull asked mechanically, freshly sanitized hands pressing around the outside of the wound making Obi-Wan jump and suck in a deep breath. 

“Erm–” Obi-Wan swallowed, “Perhaps two days? Three?” Cody could tell the feverish haze was setting in; Obi-Wan was not one to confuse his timelines. 

Skull looked concerned at the time frame, eyeing the wound more closely. He didn’t look satisfied when he sat back on his heels from where he knelt on the durasteel floor. He motioned to Cody to step aside, away from Obi-Wan.

“When did the fever start?” Skull asked expectantly. “I’m assuming he’s been here for more than a few minutes?

Cody sighed. “Since he came here, I don’t know– twenty minutes ago? And he’s sick of the medbay– I don’t think he realized how bad it is.”

Skull rubbed an irritated hand across his face. “You know, Cody, if he’ll listen to you, maybe you can convince him to come to me next time.” Cody tried not to look sheepish, even pulling his lips into a hard line.

“I can’t make Ob– the General listen to me.” Cody corrected himself quickly. 

“Banthashit. That’s the only reason I’m actually here and he hasn’t already dragged his lifeless body to the medbay instead. Just own it Commander; the General is wrapped around your finger.” If punching a medic in the face wasn’t likely a decommissionable offense, Cody would have already done it. 

“Skull I swear to– I do not. It’s not like that–” 

“I’ve seen what I’ve seen, Cody. Your insistence is meaningless.” Skull said, the shook his head once. “Back on topic– bacta bandages probably won’t fully heal that monstrosity, but I think they can hold him over until we can convince him of submersion tomorrow. That– and shitload of antibiotics.”

The insurmountable anger Skull had incited in him just a couple of minutes before dissipated.

Submersion.

Cody knew Obi-Wan hated it. Cody had only endured it himself once before, and he had been equally as disenchanted with it, and that was without the added roadblock of claustrophobia.

“Are you sure? Full submersion?” Cody asked, looking nervously toward Obi-Wan who had since closed his eyes.

“It’s an infected lightsaber wound, not a kriffing scrape Cody.” Skull reminded him, and stepped back towards the bunk.

Cody watched silently, sitting beside Obi-Wan’s head in a metal chair, as Skull coaxed Obi-Wan to lie down on his side so the wound was fully exposed. The medic made quick work with a set of heavy, white bandages which were clearly more fit for the job than the tiny bacta patches Obi-Wan had brought from the medbay. 

Skull took a mixed painkiller-antibiotic hypo and gently pressed it into Obi-Wan’s neck before he began to slather on a generous layer of full-strength bacta gel, the kind that was only used when things were serious. Though the painkillers clearly took the edge off, Cody still cringed at the occasional tiny moans that escaped past Obi-Wan’s stony, rigid exterior. 

“Kriff.” Cody heard Obi-Wan hiss as Skull took a long strip of high-grade gauze and pressed down across the length of the wound. 

“Sorry, General. I know it stings; hold tight.”

Obi-Wan audibly cursed again when Skull pressed a long strip of adhesive bandage over the gauze. “That should do it for now.” Skull said, leaning back again helping Obi-Wan to roll onto his back, a more comfortable position. 

Cody noted the minor relief painted across Obi-Wan’s features. Whatever cocktail of drugs Skull had given him clearly worked, and his forehead no longer was coated in a layer of sweat. Without the large, gaping burn wound out in the open, Obi-Wan looked less like a walking corpse, and more like a human punching bag. Regardless, it was an improvement. 

“I’ve got two more doses of painkillers from your kit.” Skull said as he rummaged through the case he had brought with him. “Have Cody give you one every four hours, and I’ll send a med transport to come get you tomorrow morning.”

Obi-Wan blinked twice and furrowed his brow. “Oh that certainly won’t be necessary. Could you leave a few bandages behind? I’m sure I can change them myself.”

Skull raised his eyebrows again and turned to Cody with a smug, knowing smile. “Cody?” He asked, amusement lacing his tone. 

Kriffing Skull.

Cody drew both of his hands over his face and suppressed a groan. 

“General– Skull is right. You aren’t fit to walk, and I don’t think bacta gel is going to cut it.” Obi-Wan shook his head and sighed.

“If you insist, Cody.” He answered politely. 

And no, Cody hadn’t insisted. 

Skull’s shit-eating grin was almost too much for Cody to handle. 

“Well Skull, looks like your job here is done.” Cody said loudly and grabbed his closed medical bags from the floor as he headed towards the door. After exchanging his last words with Obi-Wan, Skull followed him and took the bags from his hands.

“So star-crossed lovers it looks like? A match made in heaven? The only type of relationship where The Obi-Wan Kenobi will listen to you over a medical professional. I told you, wrapped around your finger.” Skull said as Cody nearly punched the button to open the door of his quarters. 

“Oh fuck off.” Cody said, rolling his eyes, but his cheeks were still burning. “Whatever is going on here is between me and the General.” He finished as Skull stepped into the hallway.

“Oh I’m sure there are plenty of things going on between you and the General.” Skull said with a wink. “See you tomorrow, Cody.”

Fucking kriff. 

Cody was never going to live it down, was he?

He let out his exasperation in the form of punching the door just as it closed, which though painful, was enough to make him feel marginally better. 

Collecting his thoughts, Cody headed back to the bunk where Obi-Wan still laid on his back, eyes half-shut, and bloody hand resting over his chest. Cody leaned over him and he perked up a little offering a hint of a grin as his eyes blinked open.

“You know, maybe we should just accept that Skull knows; make it official.” Obi-Wan murmured.

“What? And admit defeat? Ruin my reputation?” Cody was mildly offended at the suggestion, but he still ran a gentle hand through the greasy, unwashed hair on top of Obi-Wan’s head.

“He already knows, dear.” Obi-Wan said with a mild chuckle that shook his chest, then a small hiss of pain. 

“That doesn’t mean I need to admit it to him.” Cody retorted, and stood to find some sort of cloth to clean Obi-Wan’s bloody, dirt-covered fingers. Obi-Wan just snorted.

“Always so stubborn, Commander.” He whispered as Cody gently wiped his hands and then gently rubbed in some lotion he kept in the drawer of the table by his bed. "Thank you for calling Skull- I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking."

"Always so stubborn, Obi-Wan." He repeated, smiling gently, "I'm just happy you're here now, with me."

They sat in silence, Cody still massaging the callouses on Obi-Wan’s hand and admiring the gentle curve of his jaw. He pressed a kiss to the middle of Obi-Wan’s chest.

Perhaps it didn’t really matter what Skull thought after all.

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

soldier left behind

Part four of 212th Medic Skull Has Had Enough on ao3

Part one | Part two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary:

“I–” Obi-Wan started, then looked back toward the forest, “Cody didn’t come back.” He spat the words out so quickly, Skull could hardly follow.

(Or, yet another follow-up to Skull's infamous run-in with the 212th's newest secret couple. This time, an injured Cody is left in the forest and Obi-Wan, Skull, and new shiny medic Splint go to find him before nightfall.)

Word Count: 4,414

Chapter 1/2

Skull hated fighting, hated having to raise his blaster, even if it was the one thing he had been created to do. He supposed he had been trained to be a medic his whole life outside of being a soldier, so of course his first point of interest was not running aimlessly into a field of droids who were quite literally designed to kill him.

Skull swore under his breath as blaster fire whizzed past his head, cursed out General Skywalker for getting them into this position in the first place. 

If General Kenobi was risky, Skywalker took it to another level; he was self-sacrificing but surprisingly confident about it. Skull was happy to not have been assigned as his medic, but that didn’t mean he was exempt from Skywalker’s abhorrent decisions.

Cody’s voice was loud through his comlink, commanding all of the troops to fall back, there were reinforcements coming in. Skull followed orders gladly and booked it away from the oncoming line of clankers, hoping his brothers would do the same; he would be the one to have to fix them up anyway. 

Feet carrying him backward through a maze of thick, leafy trees, Skull heard the crackling sound of more orders from Cody through his comlink. He could barely hear over the continued blaster fire pelting into the tree trunks on all sides of him and the surrounding troopers. 

“Toward basecamp!” Someone yelled, having heard the orders. Reorienting himself, he changed directions, feet catching on the tree roots that layered the forest bed in his haste. 

He ran for longer than he had in a long time, lungs pulling in harsh, short breaths as he began to see the edges of a clearing ahead of him. No one spoke as they ran, equally unwilling to waste their breath on needless conversation. Skull sucked in a big breath, and pushed his legs to go faster as they approached the clearing; basecamp was only a quarter of a klick away from the edge of it, and Skull was more than willing to get there sooner rather than later. 

By the time he and the other troopers could see the tents looming in the distance, Skull looked back to see a muddy group of twenty or so troopers, a few of them limping or holding an arm against their chest. Skull pulled his comlink to his face.

“Oxy, twenty of us incoming. I estimate three leg wounds, two troopers with blasts to the bicep and shoulder.” He liked to keep his counterpart informed and prepared; Force knew he was going to have to sit for at least a couple of minutes to regain he breath after having run so far. 

“Noted.” Oxy answered immediately, “You alright there, Skully?” He stifled a laugh through the connection and Skull growled under his breath. 

“You trying running four klicks away from clankers.” Skull said, breaths coming in faster. 

“I’ll save a medical bed for you.” Oxy told him.

Skull didn’t bother responding, just slowed down considerably as he approached the first of the makeshift barracks. The men surrounding him did the same, stripping off their buckets to take a few breaths of fresh air, not quite as thick as it had been in the humid center of the jungle.

Approaching the small medical tent which sat beside the makeshift supply tent, Skull directed the injured men following him to triage with one of the shinies that had been brought on to work with him and Oxy. The shiny, Splint, looked on nervously as Skull directed the troops his way. It was his first time in the field, only having been surrounded with every piece of high-tech medical equipment in the galaxy.

Skull tried to offer him a reassuring smile, but he would be the first to admit he wasn’t feeling overly up to it as he sat heavily on a weapons crate outside the tent. “Is that it, Sir? Are there any still on the way?” Splint asked expectantly, his eyes tracing over the tree line in the distance, almost like he was waiting for more to pop out of it at any second. 

They had gone in with forty, and barely twenty had returned; Skull knew what Splint was thinking. 

Skull hated that he didn’t know if anyone was left behind, that he couldn’t save every single last one of his brothers, but the reality was, not everyone would make it, and that was something he had to live with as a medic.“I’m sorry– I don’t know. Just focus on what’s in front of you now, Splint, if they make it back, they make it back.” 

Splint sighed, then saluted, “Of course, Sir.” He nodded once, then spun on his heel to join Oxy back in the tent. 

Skull sat for another minute, then began to pull at his plates of armor. He worked better when he wasn’t constricted by layers of thick plastoid. 

Once he had piled the plates beside himself, he was about to get up to head into the medical tent, but his eyes caught on something in the distance. 

Alongside another large supply crate, both General Kenobi and Skywalker stood with their arms crossed, obviously in a very intense discussion over something. Skywalker held his head high and seemingly indignant. Kenobi looked equally frustrated, but instead of standing still, he paced back and forth, hand occasionally reaching up to stroke over his beard. 

While the image wasn’t inherently unusual, the look on Kenobi’s face was not. 

The General looked, for lack of a more dignified term, frantic.

Frantic wasn’t something a High General in the GAR often embodied, even in the face of a losing battle. 

Skull stood slowly, watching as the two Generals spoke under their breath to each other, then parted ways with one last biting word from Skywalker. The younger Jedi strode off, confidence rolling off of him as he moved in the direction of the 501st barracks. 

General Kenobi stood in place for a moment, forehead dropping into the palm of his hand.

Skull could hardly take it, seeing the General standing alone, clearly upset. Where was Cody? He glanced across the horizon, over the whole encampment, suddenly feeling a small pit form in his stomach as he watched Skywalker and Rex convening by a fire with a few other troopers from the 501st.

Cody would have been with the General if he had returned, Skull had no doubts about that. Which meant…

Skull abandoned his stripped armor, walking the short distance toward the supply crate where Obi-Wan had taken to staring off toward the forest line, much the way Splint had just minutes earlier. 

“Uh, General, everything alright?” He asked tentatively as he approached Kenobi from behind.  

The General startled, whipping around with wide eyes, mouth ajar. 

“Oh!” He said quietly, then offered the most watery, insincere smile that Skull had ever witnessed in his life. 

And they say Kenobi is the most convincing negotiator in the GAR, Skull thought, barely able to see past the sullen eyes and grim look that pressed at his face against his best efforts to shield it. 

“I’m fine Skull; hardly even had to use my lightsaber.” Kenobi continued, almost automatic in his insistence that he was perfectly fine.

“Sir– I’m not talking about your physical state this time.” Skull placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, hoping some grounding touch would do something to coax a moment of honesty out of his obstinate bones. 

“I–” Obi-Wan started, then looked back toward the forest, “Cody didn’t come back.” He spat the words out so quickly, Skull could hardly follow.

Once he had a moment to process, Skull realized he was right, the Commander was missing. 

“I sense– I think he is hurt, I can’t be certain– but I can’t leave him out there.” 

“And Skywalker thinks you should?” Skull asked, almost dumbfounded that the younger Jedi even got an opinion on whether Cody was worth going back for or not. 

“Not exactly– he thinks it dangerous, it’s getting dark, and the light will be completely gone by the time we get to him. We have no idea what position the separatists hold and–” Skull couldn’t take the rambling, the attempt to justify Skywalker’s opinion.

“Banthashit.” Skull said firmly. Kenobi looked at him, blinking once, “No way the seppies are going to be combing the forest in the dark if they think anything like Skywalker– their clankers can barely shoot straight in the daylight.” 

The last comment at least got a small sniffle of acknowledgement from the General, but he still looked defeated, his worry evident. Skull pointed out toward the trees, “I’ll go with you out there all night if we need– I just need my armor and my kit.”

“Skull– please, don’t be ridiculous. We can’t go without backup. Anakin is right that this could be risky.” Obi-Wan said, voice trailing off at the end. 

Anakin took enough risks of his own, Kenobi certainly was allowed to take a calculated one to save an irreplaceable Commander. 

“Well, you’re in luck, I have a shiny who can join us.” Skull glanced back toward the medical tent. Sure, Oxy might be a little pissy to have to take on five injured troopers on his own, but the Commander’s life was just as important as any trooper’s was; he was a brother.

Obi-Wan looked him right in the eye.

“Are you sure, Skull? Cody is very capable– he could survive the night–” It was like Kenobi was trying to convince himself he should stay back. Skull wasn’t having it.

“So you’re going to act like this isn’t bothering you, Sir? I have seen– I know how you feel about him.”

Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head, “We should discuss this later.”

“Then we’re going?” Skull asked, and the General offered one affirming nod. 

“Seriously, Skull? Those idiots need to get it together.” Oxy placed a fresh bacta patch over a trooper's bloody blaster wound on his shoulder. Splint looked on, albeit nervously. Skull had informed him that he would be joining him out in the rainforest.

“Oh believe me, I agree. I’m going to have to request individual medics for each of them at this rate.” Skull shook his head and strapped his medical kit over his shoulder, securing it as tightly as he could. “If we’re not back in three hours, notify Skywalker.” 

With that, he motioned for Splint to follow, his own medkit strapped across his chest, and they headed out toward where Kenobi stood idly outside, not really looking at anything at all. He hardly looked dejected anymore, just… numb.

Skull hated it.

“You ready to go?” Skull asked tentatively, watching as Kenobi startled again. 

“Yes– I’m ready. Are you the new medic?” Kenobi held out his hand to Splint, who looked alarmed at the offer.

“Oh–yes! I’m CT-3330.” Splint said sheepishly and shook the General’s hand firmly. 

“Do you go by any other names…” Kenobi searched for something else to call him, something more than a serial number. Skull liked that about his General. 

“It’s Splint, Sir. Thank you for asking.” Kenobi offered Splint a gentle smile, but it quickly faded when Skull cleared his throat. 

“We need to head out; the faster we find him, the more likely he’s still alive.” Skull stepped forward leading the way into the quickly darkening forest. 

Kenobi didn’t know the exact coordinates of where he had last seen Cody, but he had a general idea, a feeling. It had been in a small clearing just below a steep cliff. The General was convinced it could be seen from a klick away, but they had not such luck as they stepped over creaking roots and fallen branches that had taken blaster fire earlier. 

They had all tried to com the commander, multiple times at this point, but none of them had received a response.

Kenobi was on edge; his usual poise and precise methods seemed to have all but disappeared. His moves were irrational, tugging the trio from place to place without any real logic.

Skull tried to not let his frustration show through, keeping calm as he followed closely behind the shivering General, but Splint, always tense, was becoming more vocal about needing to change their search route at the very least. 

“I think we have already searched here– should we move farther east?” Splint suggested, but Kenobi just shook his head and shivered again in the cool night air. Skull should have reminded Kenobi to put on an extra few shirts under his tunic.

“I could swear it was close to this location. If I could just…” Think. Skull mentally filled in the rest of the sentence.

He understood, panic wasn’t a helpful tool when it came to memory, and he could tell the General was just barely holding it together. Skull did not miss the way Kenobi lost focus, eyes drifting across the distant layers of trees. He ground his teeth together loud enough that Skull could hear it. 

“Sir, let’s stop for a minute. It’s late, I know this is stressful. Do you want to… meditate? Would that help?” Skull didn’t know much about Force-osik, but if it would help the General focus, he would suggest anything. 

“You’re right, Skull, I’m not thinking clearly.” Kenobi said after a long pause, he glanced around and started toward a small patch of roots that wasn’t coated in mud. He sat down, crossing his legs together and taking a deep breath. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Skull didn’t watch, it felt private, and instead, looked through his medical supplies again, checking to see if there was an additional ration bar or some water he could offer the General before they continued the search. He didn’t find anything, and looked up to see Splint staring at the Jedi, wide eyed.

“Strange, huh?” He said as he clipped the med kit back together, acknowledging that seeing the Jedi hovering inches above the ground, deep behind a wall of meditative solitude.

“I’ve heard the Jedi are different, but this is…” Splint blinked a few times, then shook his head. 

Kenobi dropped to the ground gracefully, bloodshot eyes opening slowly as he stood. While he didn’t look any less worried, his face was clearer, and more determined. He looked up toward the tops of the trees, then in each direction, hands tracing across the bark of the passing trees as he paced. “I know the way. It’s a klick north.” 

Skull couldn’t believe it; he was starting to think Kenobi needed to meditate more often. 

“Let’s get going then, there’s barely any light left.” Skull said, motioning for Splint to follow alongside him. 

They followed their General closely, the last of the light seeping through the trees as they clamored across more tree roots and dense mud. 

“Just up ahead.” Kenobi whispered suddenly, pointing toward a towering cliff that would have been much easier to see in broad daylight. The General picked up speed and the two medics followed his lead, stomping through a few deep craters of muddy sludge until they reached a small clearing at the base of the cliff. 

There wasn’t much to look at in last of the light except for a few stacked boulders by the base of the cliff and several mangled trees clumped together. No sign of Cody in plain sight. 

That’s a good sign, Skull reminded himself. If the Commander had been killed instantly or been completely debilitated, he wouldn’t have had the chance to take cover.

Kenobi stopped, and brought his finger up to his lips, eyes looking back and forth as he listened to the sounds of the jungle waiting to hear the metallic screeches of approaching clankers. Skull couldn’t hear anything other than the endless crackling of leaves and branches in the breeze and skittering animals. “Clear?” He asked the General, voice barely a whisper. 

Kenobi nodded, and began to call out for the Commander, voice louder this time, “Cody? Commander?” 

They waited patiently, all three men listening intently now for the Commander to say something, or to drag himself out into the open, but there was nothing. 

Kenobi was back to looking distressed– no, frantic– again. 

The General called out for Cody again, then again, each time his voice more desperate, until Skull placed a knowing hand on his shoulder, spinning him around. If the Commander wanted to say something, he would have, and they were wasting time. Kenobi was surprisingly irrational, his lack of composure becoming more apparent with every second passing. 

It was alarming.

“General– let’s just take a look around.” He tried to sound encouraging, but Kenobi didn’t look satisfied with the suggestion. 

So Skull pushed past him and toward the rocks at the base of the cliff which looked like an obvious place to take cover. He knelt down near an opening that looked large enough for someone to squeeze into, and began to consider climbing inside himself when–

“Uh– Skull?” Splint called for him tentatively and Skull whipped his head around, the lights on his bucket immediately landing on what Splint and the General were looking at: blood.

It was trailed across the dirt, and wouldn’t have been visible in the fading light. It led toward a similar cavern to the one Skull had been looking at, but only thinner.

Before Skull could walk over, Kenobi was already down on his knees, attempting to shuffle into the crawl space. Skull rushed over, pulling him back, “No, let Splint do it, he’s smaller than you.” 

He hated to volunteer the shiny, but it was true, he was half a head shorter than Obi-Wan, and thinner than Skull due to his age. Thankfully, Splint didn’t hesitate, already shoving a hypo filled with painkillers into his belt.

“Obi-Wan?” Skull heard from behind the rocks. The voice was gruff, weak, and barely sounded like Cody, but it was him. Skull was almost relieved, but there was still the added factor of needing to remove him from the crawl space.

“I’m– I’m here my love.” Obi-Wan still knelt in the mud, eyes watering just around the corners. Skull tried to pretend he didn’t hear it, the admission was almost too blatant for him. Skull’s heart hurt hearing the desperation in the General’s tone. 

“Splint is coming in, Commander. Let him give you the painkillers.” Skull said, once again dropping his medical kit onto the ground and throwing it open, “What are we looking at, Splint?” He asked, watching as the shiny disappeared deeper into the cavern.

There was a whimper, one that made the General cringe, eyes still wide, then Splint spoke muffled by the stones, “Two blaster wounds– one to the hip, the other to the shoulder, both on the left side. Concussion too. But I have no idea how he got in here.” Skull was mildly relieved, he had been expecting worse judging by the blood scraped across the ground, but blaster wounds were manageable. 

“Can he stand?” Skull asked, but Splint was sure he couldn’t.

The General looked less relieved, and he spoke softly, “I can use the Force.” 

“What?” Skull asked, not understanding what exactly the Force could be used for in the present. 

Kenobi stood from his crouch and took a few steps back, adjusting his angle, “I can pull him out with the Force, hover him.” Kenobi answered, his focus regained.

Skull had seen him do it before in open air, but this was an entirely different situation, it was a tight cave, with little room for error.

“Are you sure?” Skull asked, but Kenobi shot him a look that spoke a thousand words. “Alright, Splint, get out of there.” 

Once Splint had cleared the entrance, squeezing past the thin space between the rocks, Kenobi began, arms extended out in front of him, eyes narrowed and then closed.

His arms shook, then his whole body, and Skull watched the entrance to the cavern expectantly. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then Force-osik. 

The General maneuvered Cody’s prone body through the tight opening, and though Cody let out a shattered scream with the movement, his body never scraped the sides of the stone. 

Kenobi, his whole body shaking with the effort, slowly brought Cody’s body to rest on a less muddy patch, then collapsed onto his own knees, energy clearly spent.

“Kriff. Splint– get Kenobi sitting down, and a stim.” Skull wasn’t about to request that Splint try and carry the General back while he tried to handle Cody on his own. 

Skull took to Cody’s side, eyeing the mess of dried blood across Cody’s forehead. While the blaster fire had hit his armor in multiple other places, he had been hit along his joints where the pieces of plastoid armor plating separated. 

It must have been heavy fire, Skull thought. There was no way a clanker would be smart enough to hit those areas purposefully, 

Cody’s eyes blinked open, breaths sucked in heavily as he recovered from being jostled. He looked up, blinking through the dirt in his eyelashes, and frowned. His eyes looked dull– drugged, really, Skull reminded himself. He had handed off the strongest dose of a painkiller-sedative concoction to Splint.

“Skull? Where’s–” Cody started hazily.

“Cody.” Skull’s head swiveled to find that Splint had been unsuccessful at getting the General sitting down; instead, Kenobi was staggering toward Cody, tripping into the mud, matted hair scattered over his forehead. He fell to his knees by Cody’s side, hand pressing into Cody’s instantaneously.

“Obi-Wan. You came back.” Splint looked at Skull, eyes filled with some concoction of shock and surprise. Skull supposed it was fair; generally, Sir, was a more appropriate term for a High General. Skull ignored the look, promising himself to explain later, and motioned to the still filled hypo in Splint’s grasp. The young trooper seemed to notice that he had yet to deliver the stim, and pressed the needle into Kenobi’s neck while the Jedi used a thumb on his other hand to wipe away some of the clotted blood still strewn across Cody’s forehead. 

“Alright, Sir, you need to help me get this armor off of him before we head back to basecamp. We’ll get some bacta on him for now. Splint– get me bacta patches.” 

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, still grasping at Cody’s hand, then he spoke to Cody softly. “Don’t panic, Codes,” Oh for the love of God, the nicknames were unbearable, “We’re just going to take these off.” Kenobi tapped at the plastoid armor of Cody’s chest. 

The Commander looked at him lazily, then at Skull, worry spreading over his features suddenly. 

“Here? I-I don’t know Obi-Wan…” The General’s cheeks grew redder than Skull could have ever imagined, and he refused to look in Skull’s direction.

“No!” Kenobi said firmly, then grumbled, “Just– we need to see the wounds. You need bacta.” Still not looking in Skull’s direction, the General reached for the chest plate, unclasping it at the sides with enough ease that Skull knew he had done it many times before. 

How disgusting.

Skull started with the armor by his legs, leaving his boots on so they could try and drag him along if his pain was managed enough to walk. 

Skull stripped him up to his waist, all but his codpiece, as Obi-Wan had removed all but his vambraces where his dead comlink was still attached. Awkwardly, not wanting to have to do it himself in front of Kenobi, Skull looked at the General hoping he would offer to remove the remaining piece of armor.

“Sir, can you take that off of him? I’ll need to see his hip.” Obi-Wan blinked at him, opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly shut his mouth and nodded. Skull could see his defined blush as he gently pulled the codpiece away and shimmied the pants of his blacks down past his hip bone.

Cody would never kriffing live this down once he found out when he was more lucid. Skull liked the idea of that just a little.

The blaster wound was bloody, skin torn and angry looking, but Skull couldn’t worry too much about it before he had access to better supplies; bacta patches were going to have to do. 

“Splint did–” 

“Right here, Skull.” Splint came into view, bacta patch already free of its packaging. 

“Thank you.” He said, and positioned the patch over the wound. He had to press down to secure it and to get the bacta to react with the charred skin.

Cody clenched his teeth again, but a muffled whimper still made it through. The General winced, hand still holding back the waistband of Cody’s pants until Skull had covered the wound completely. Gently, Obi-Wan pulled the top of the pants back up, careful to avoid the wound. 

“Kriffing hells.” Cody swore, voice slurring slightly as he flinched away from Skull’s touch as the medic moved to his shoulder, gently prodding at the edges of the inflamed blaster wound there.

“It’s okay, Codes.” Skull heard Obi-Wan whisper, his hand already entangled with Cody’s again. 

Skull followed the same process, quickly taking the bacta patch from Splint and applying it with pressure. The Commander held in a groan, but physically recoiled away from Skull once the medic pulled away. 

Skull moved backward, motioning for Splint to do the same, and let Cody ride out the last waves of pain. With his uninjured arm, he pressed a hand across his face and rubbed over his eyes. The General sat next to him, still looking exhausted and shaky from using the Force, but at the very least, the worry had drained from his eyes and turned into something more reverent as he let his fingers trail over Cody’s jawline for just a split second. 

“They’re just like that, Splint– I’ll explain later.” He stood next to the shiny, who looked on with a mixture of disgust and fondness written across his features. 

Skull concurred with that feeling. 

“It’s… do they realize we’re here?” Splint asked, looking away. 

“The vote is still out on that one– Cody still likes to pretend I don’t know they’re… a thing.” Skull let out a snort, smiling at Splint, then sighing when he realized they were still two klicks out from basecamp, were dealing with one half Force-exhausted Jedi, and a very loopy Commander. 

Fucking kark it, it was going to be a long trip back.