Obi-Wan supposed that, when it came to his own death, he had expected something a little more impressive than being buried under a mound of rocks. But the Force worked in mysterious ways and all that.

Obi-Wan lifted his head. Or tried to lift his head. All he got was a stab of white-hot pain through his skull and bile piling up his throat, and he settled his head back down against the ground because it would appear the rest of himself wasn't willing to cooperate just yet.

If he did feel like cooperating anytime soon, then…

Obi-Wan blinked a few times. Rocks. More rocks. Darkness. Lots of darkness. Something wet trickled down to Obi-Wan's lip, something that tasted metallic and familiar enough for him to know that it was probably his own blood. Which was wonderful.

Come on, then, Obi-Wan thought. Up we go.

He forced himself up on an elbow.

Too fast—he had moved too fast because Obi-Wan's body suddenly was weightless, and what little he could make of his surroundings disappeared in an envelope of darkness. Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

He reached gingerly for the back of his head. His fingers came away sticky. That wasn't good. Although that explained the dizziness and the nausea…

Obi-Wan reopened his eyes and tried his best to look up at the mound of rocks in front of him.

And then he remembered—something about being with Anakin, blaster fire, then too many rocks tumbling down…Obi-Wan remembered shoving his men out of the way, and then hearing Anakin's cry. Obi-Wan couldn't remember too much after that—had he fallen, or had a rock hit his head? He wasn't sure if it really made too much of a difference in the end, because either way, Obi-Wan was stuck in this cave, and Anakin…

Obi-Wan settled a hand on a rock and pushed himself up. He swayed instantly, and for a moment, he thought he was going to fall back down—but he managed upright. Little miracles.

Obi-Wan swallowed, looked around his darkened surroundings again. He couldn't hear anything else beside his own quiet breaths, which he supposed was a comfort. Could be much worse. There could be a gundark here. Or poisonous gas. Or pirates who liked to drug their captives.

Obi-Wan let out a weak laugh that echoed around the small cave.

He turned back around to the pile of rocks blocking up the entrance.

Obi-Wan reached down to his side. His lightsaber at least still remained intact, and Obi-Wan ignited it.

He blinked a few times, the sudden light harsh and daunting to his eyes—but still welcome in the darkness. With one hand, Obi-Wan reached for the mound of rocks, and with the other, he lifted his lightsaber higher, searching for…what was he searching for—his head hurt, and his mouth felt dry, and—

Obi-Wan let out a breath, leaned against the rocks. Another something wet and metallic rolled down to his lips, and Obi-Wan reached up to wipe it away. He didn't want to think about how dirty his own hand must have been to begin with, not as he tasted dirt on top of the blood.

Obi-Wan slowly pushed his head back off the rocks. Looked up. There had to be…

Obi-Wan looked and looked and looked, and then—

There.

Obi-Wan lifted his lightsaber a little higher, just as high as his tired arm would allow. The smallest pinprick of light awaited him, and from there, Obi-Wan could have sworn he felt the slightest breeze push through.

Waiting for him.

Now just to get there, he would have to—

Anakin was already climbing to his feet even before the dust cleared.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin shouted, waving the dust and the smoke away. "Obi—" He started forward, heard the rumble of rock before lurching backwards. Growling in frustration, Anakin started for the blocked cave entrance again. There had to be some way to get him out—

He was vaguely aware of the rest of the 212th getting up, moving around the cave. Although they didn't say much, Anakin could sense their worry too—worry and fear, but underlying that all, a grim determination.

"What are your orders, General?" Cody asked. Like everyone else, he was covered in a thin dusting of dirt and ash, but he stood firm with attention.

"Get General Kenobi out of there," Anakin replied. He took a few steps back and looked up at the blocked entrance again. "We can't blow that out if he's still in there and—" He didn't bother finishing that sentence. He just looked at Cody. "Tell your men to look for any weak spots. Anything that we can push through." He walked towards the blocked entrance. "And comm for reinforcements, medics—make sure they hurry."

"Yes, sir."

Anakin managed a quick nod of thanks to Cody. And then he was looking back up at the blocked entrance, trying not to think about what could be going on behind the blocked entrance.

"You just had to do it, didn't you?" Anakin muttered, stepping up on the rocks. "You just had to—"

Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin saw some other troopers climbing up the rocks too. Carefully hauling out the rocks, pausing and looking up whenever there was so much as a tremor. No one wanted to make the situation worse than it already was.

Down below, Anakin heard the crackle of comms and just the faintest of voices gibbering through. A small relief, but Anakin was going to take it.

Come on, Anakin thought, climbing up. His foot slipped, and Anakin grabbed onto another rock before he could fall down completely.

Come on, Obi-Wan—

Obi-Wan quickly learned that it wasn't just his head that hurt—it was also his shoulder, which now throbbed and ached with a dull, hot pain. Obi-Wan looked at it once, found the torn fabric of his tunic to reveal a gash that he hadn't expected. He looked at the wound for a moment before decidedly turning away. Bother. Cody always did say that he shouldn't have gotten rid of the armor.

Obi-Wan hauled himself up, ignoring the protest in his right arm. He came to a short stop, leaned his forehead against a cool rock. For a moment, Obi-Wan wondered if it would be so bad to just stay here for a moment. His head hurt, and his arms hurt, and the world was already so dark—

"Come now," Obi-Wan whispered to himself, his own voice grating against his throat. "Only a little farther…"

He looked up at the blocked entrance. That little bit of light still winked in and out before him, though it felt as far away as a star than it did anything else.

Obi-Wan pushed out another sigh and, bracing himself, pushed up another rock. He grasped another rock, pushed himself up again. Stopped. Took another breath, swallowed down the bile burning up his throat.

Obi-Wan's arm slackened as he dipped forward again, and for a disorienting second, he thought he was truly going to fall—and he was just starting to think about how bothersome that would be, if he fell down from this height—before pain jolted through his left shoulder again.

Obi-Wan let out a sharp cry, grabbed at a rock before he could actually fall down this time around. Some more rocks at a different point at the entrance came tumbling down instead.

He bit down another cry as the pain welled and burned at his shoulder. He wouldn't look.

Obi-Wan hoisted himself with his other arm. Somewhat better, if he could just keep the tremble out of both his hands…that would be nice. He ignored the scrape of rock against his palms as he swung himself up farther. (Swung was an exaggeration. He was vertically crawling at this point.)

And then somewhere off to the side, Obi-Wan heard shouting. Distant, just barely muffled shouting, but—shouting. Other voices. Obi-Wan would have felt more relieved if everything didn't hurt so much…and his head—

"See?" Obi-Wan murmured to himself. "Almost there."

He lifted his head. Sure enough, that little pinprick of light waited for him—brighter, a little larger now that he was closer. It wobbled for a moment, and for a brief moment, Obi-Wan wondered if it would go out—but no, he was just tired. And mildly dizzy. And mildly nauseous.

Concussion—that was what he had now. A concussion.

Almost there.

He pushed himself forward.

And slowly, steadily that light became brighter and brighter, until—

"Obi-Wan—" Anakin grabbed his former master's hand, flinching once at the bloody mess of cuts and scrapes on his palm. They would have to look at that later—that, and the blood matting his hair and his shoulder, but—

Anakin shoved aside the other rocks, careful not to push them towards Obi-Wan or anyone else. "Hang on—just give me—" Anakin loosened the last rock, and then Obi-Wan was staggering forward, and they both would have toppled down to the ground if Anakin weren't prepared. He moved them to the side just as some of the smaller rocks rolled down instead. "Steady—steady, Obi-Wan—"

"Trying," Obi-Wan replied hoarsely. "Anakin—"

And then he was jerking to the side, and Anakin reached for him again, but Obi-Wan was already retching at the rock wall. Anakin smelled something sour a moment later, and he knew that things were worse than he thought. He looked again to the blood clotting Obi-Wan's hair. Thought of the cuts and scrapes—had Obi-Wan fallen—

"Hang on—" Anakin started, setting a hand on Obi-Wan's back. He looked wildly around. "He's here!"

"Don't…" Obi-Wan mumbled. "Don't shout."

"Sorry," Anakin said. "But—okay, wait, wait, wait—" Ignoring the thin puddle of vomit between them, Anakin stepped forward to better grip Obi-Wan. "Just sit—"

"Just going to…"

"You're not going to throw up on me," Anakin said. "Come on, just—"

He took another step forward, and this time, Obi-Wan didn't argue. When Obi-Wan sagged against him, Anakin smelled that sourness and the coppery tang of blood. Sweat. And something that was more distinctly Obi-Wan, muffled underneath it all.

"Just hang on," Anakin said quietly as a few medics scrambled over to them. "Hang—"

"Trying…" Obi-Wan's voice was little more than a whisper. "Anakin, I don't think…" His eyes fluttered closed, and Anakin almost stumbled backwards from the sudden weight. He felt Obi-Wan's forehead bump against his chin, and Anakin secured an arm around Obi-Wan's back to keep him from falling any further.

"It's okay," Anakin said aloud, though more to Obi-Wan or to himself, he couldn't say. "You're going to be okay—we're going to be okay—"

Anakin told himself that as the medics came. As they made their careful way down the rock, every bump of Obi-Wan against Anakin's shoulder feeling like a bump too many. He kept telling himself that as they managed to set Obi-Wan down on a cot, and only after they had taken Obi-Wan away did Rex motion to his face.

Anakin blinked. He lifted his hand to his cheek, wiped at it. His hand came away red.

Obi-Wan could just see red. That was what the pain in his head and his shoulder felt like, at least—just a deep, blinding red haze that made it near impossible for him to actually tell what was going on around him.

"We'll need bacta—and sedatives—"

"No more bacta—"

"What do you mean, no more bacta—"

Obi-Wan opened his eyes briefly to find some vaguely familiar faces above him. He saw them all look down at Obi-Wan, and then someone called for sedatives.

"What do you mean, no more bacta?" Anakin asked.

"I'm sorry, sir," Kix said. "But unless we get some more supplies…"

A small sound brought both Anakin and Kix's attention to Obi-Wan. He was breathing too fast—his eyebrows drawn taut and his face too pale—

"We'll have to work the old-fashioned way," Kix said grimly. "But he's going to need to relax, otherwise this could get…difficult. General Skywalker, could you—" He paused, and then gestured.

Anakin already knew what he was referencing. He nodded.

He walked towards Obi-Wan just in time to see his former master's eyes flicker open. He looked dully up at Anakin, and then, after a moment, Obi-Wan whispered, "'kin—"

"Yeah," Anakin replied. "It's me." He set his hand down on Obi-Wan's uninjured shoulder. But even from there, Anakin felt an uncomfortable heat. "You're just going to sleep now, okay?"

Obi-Wan shifted against the cot, his eyes roaming around the tent for a moment before asking, "Where…when…Anakin—"

"General—"

"I know," Anakin said. "Master? Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan looked at him. For a moment, he looked almost frightened.

Anakin's chest tightened. "Sleep," he said quietly, and he slipped the Force suggestion right past Obi-Wan's shields.

When Obi-Wan went limp, Anakin slipped off his own cloak and pillowed it under Obi-Wan's head. Obi-Wan shifted a little in his sleep, his flushed face turning briefly towards Anakin's.

The tent was quiet for a second before Kix said, "We're going to look at his head first."

Anakin nodded. "Is it…"

"I think the bleeding's stopped," Kix said, looking down at Obi-Wan. "But we don't want to take our chances. Best clean everything out." He grimaced down at Obi-Wan's shoulder. Anakin risked another look at it—the ugly, deep gash that was already swelling. Anakin didn't want to think about what would happen if the cut got infected. If it already was.

You just had to do it, Anakin thought, looking at Obi-Wan.

When Kix brought back a small basin of water, Anakin shifted into position. Kix didn't say anything about Anakin still being there—which Anakin appreciated. They both got to work on the injury: Anakin's fingers slipping past blood- and dirt clots in his former master's sweaty hair. In almost no time at all, the basin was an ugly shade of red. Obi-Wan shifted again in Anakin's hands, mumbled something incoherent. Anakin froze, wondering if maybe the suggestion hadn't been strong enough—but Obi-Wan remained asleep.

"Shallow cut here," Kix said after a while, gesturing to Obi-Wan's head. "Head wounds just bleed a lot." He looked down at Obi-Wan. "Mild concussion, most likely. He'll just have to rest for that."

"And the…" Anakin gestured to Obi-Wan's mangled shoulder.

Kix's face fell. "Right," he repeated. He looked at Anakin. "General, if you need to—"

"I need to be here," Anakin replied firmly.

Kix paused. "Right then," he said. "Well, General, if you want to help with the bandages…"

Obi-Wan didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, he tasted bile and knew that if he didn't get a trash receptacle soon, there would be a mess.

Obi-Wan rolled over on his side and was instantly met with a jolt of pain through his arm. He let out a short, sharp cry, digging the side of his face briefly into the pillow to cut the rest off. His shoulder—his shoulder felt strange.

His shoulder, his head…

Another wave of nausea forced Obi-Wan to still. He pushed the rest of his face out of the pillow, hung over the side of the—not a bed. He wasn't in a bed, and he hadn't been resting on a pillow. A folded pile of robes. But he found a bin already waiting for him, but he didn't have too much time to think about why that was before he emptied whatever was left of his stomach.

Obi-Wan's throat burned. He curled his fingers into the mattress—wait, not a mattress—waited for the dizziness and the nausea to subside. He just wanted to go back to sleep…if he could just stop that pounding in his head and that heat at his shoulder…

He swallowed again and slowly, agonizingly, sat up. Blinking a few times, he took in his surroundings: and after an embarrassingly long time, he realized that he was in a tent. That explained why it was so…dark. And why now, Obi-Wan could hear the distant murmur of voices and footsteps.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, trying to remember…ah, yes. Falling. He had been falling. That had hurt quite a bit.

And if he was in a tent—there must be something more to why he was in a tent. Mission—they were here on a mission, but he couldn't recall the exact details. Just that he knew that if they were finished, they shouldn't still be here…

With only mild shaking, Obi-Wan managed to get off the cot. That was the proper word. He got off the cot and shivered. He was grateful for the folded robes and, trying to move his shoulder as little as possible, he managed to tug it on. It was much bigger than his own—and it smelled different, Obi-Wan noticed, though he couldn't quite figure out why or how.

Obi-Wan took the few steps out of the tent—and even those few felt a little too many, because his head didn't feel quite attached to the rest of him, but still, he figured he should be glad for the progress. A cold breeze swept past, and if Obi-Wan didn't already feel so…off, he would have been glad for it. He just adjusted his robes around him and took a few more steps forward, and eventually, he found the people he was looking for.

Anakin, Rex, and Cody were turned away from him. They were crouched over what Obi-Wan guessed was a holoprojector. Rex was saying something to Cody, while Anakin just shook his head and ducked down to meet whatever was bothering him about the thing.

Communications, then? That would explain why they were all still here, then. Obi-Wan was sure that Anakin would figure it out eventually—he always did.

Then Cody turned around, and Obi-Wan had the vague sense that perhaps he shouldn't have come out here after all, because his commander looked rather cross.

"General," Cody said. "Why are you up?"

Both Rex and Anakin spun around, and Obi-Wan realized that ah, yes. This was a bad idea.

Rex only winced as Anakin jerked up. "Come on, old man."

"Something wrong with the…" Obi-Wan gestured.

"Don't worry about it," Anakin said. He set his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders, lightly turned him around. "Let's get you…back."

"I don't need—"

"Yes, you do."

Which was how Obi-Wan found himself being led back into the tent. They passed a few troopers, some of whom looked like they were trying hard not to laugh. It really wasn't that funny, but Obi-Wan let himself be pushed back inside.

"Here," Anakin said, pulling back the tent flap. He pinned it back. "There should at least be some more…air."

They made their way to the cot, and they both bumped against the bin.

"I…"

"Yeah," Anakin said quickly. "Figured." He swept the bin away. "Don't worry about it. Let's just…" He sat Obi-Wan down on the cot. Obi-Wan personally could have done without the manhandling, but he didn't have the strength to protest.

Obi-Wan laid down eventually, watched Anakin as he took care of the bin in swift movements. The tent was dim enough now that Obi-Wan could at least see that much—and now, Obi-Wan spotted something near Anakin's chin. He hadn't noticed it before, but now he did.

"Are you…" Obi-Wan started up. "Hurt? Anakin—"

"What?" Anakin blinked, looked at Obi-Wan once, and when realizing where Obi-Wan was looking, reached up to his face. "Oh."

Anakin wiped his hand against his clothes. "Not mine," he said, not looking at Obi-Wan. "Yours."

Obi-Wan blinked. He hadn't been…he gingerly reached up to his head then.

"We cleaned most of it out," Anakin said, answering Obi-Wan's question. He still wasn't looking at Obi-Wan.

He returned with the now emptied bin. Anakin leaned down and set his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan couldn't help himself—he started back at the sudden sting of touch against the injury.

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan. "Hurts?"

Obi-Wan managed a small nod. He hoped that it was casual enough.

"Mm-hm." Anakin sat down on the cot, peeled back the bandages. Obi-Wan smelled bacta. He was glad that the usually stronger smell had faded—he didn't particularly feel like vomiting again. He started to look, but Anakin nudged him away. "Don't."

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin instead. His former apprentice's brows were furrowed together, eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"That bad?" Obi-Wan asked. He meant to sound casual, nonchalant, but his voice had given up, and the words came out more slurred than he would have liked. He craned his neck to see, but Anakin turned him away again—not forcefully, really nothing more than a gentle turn of his hand, but still. "Ridiculous…"

"Just don't," Anakin said. He stood up. "I'll get one of the medics."

"So it is that bad," Obi-Wan murmured.

"It's not."

"Well, then…" Obi-Wan glanced down and paused.

He found the ugly looking cut, swollen skin. Angry red blooms.

Obi-Wan stared, bile climbing up his throat. Strange. He had seen worse, but perhaps it was his headache that was making this sight a little less…tolerable. "Ah."

He heard a few footsteps, and then Anakin's small groan. "I told you to not—"

"Didn't think it would be that…" Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, and the small, still somewhat conscious part of him flickered enough to add, "It's not…bad."

Anakin sat back down on the cot, unraveling a few bandages. He didn't say anything. His face was set as he peeled off the old bandages, started to wrap Obi-Wan's shoulder with the new ones. Despite the hardness on his face, Anakin's movements were otherwise gentle, his hands cool hands quick and light.

"You're angry," Obi-Wan murmured. He tried to meet Anakin's eyes, but he wasn't looking back.

"I'm not."

"You are."

Anakin finished with the bandages. "Just…don't do that again."

"Specifics?"

Anakin glanced once at Obi-Wan. "The next time you do something like risk your life to save everyone else, make sure I'm there," he said. "Or—the next time you get stuck somewhere, make sure I'm there, too."

Obi-Wan suddenly had the feeling that he should be much more conscious for this.

He just looked instead. Somehow, he managed to say, "That would be a…" He tried to look for the right words. "Difficult feat."

"Good thing those are my favorite," Anakin replied. Those words might have been humorous under different circumstances—but Anakin's voice was oddly hollow.

Obi-Wan paused. He should really be more conscious for this.

"You can't protect…" Obi-Wan started, but before he could finish, another wave of nausea rolled through him. He shifted away from Anakin, not even able to say anything about what was going on until he was heaving over the bin again—not as bad as the time before, but still…enough for Obi-Wan's throat to burn again, and enough for the dizzying in his head to worsen. He tried to grab at the cot to keep himself from falling over—really grab for anything, but then he felt a cool hand slip into his and hold him steady.

"Obi-Wan—" Anakin's other hand was on Obi-Wan's back. "Easy—easy…"

Obi-Wan shuddered. He was suddenly all-too aware of the tacky sweat clinging his clothes to his back and the fact that he was wearing…

"Is this yours?" Obi-Wan finally managed, looking down at the robe he was wearing.

"Yeah."

"Anakin…"

"Didn't have anything else. We needed to keep you comfortable."

Obi-Wan sighed, dropping his head forward. He felt sweat roll down the side of his face, was distantly aware of his hair brushing into his eyes. He should…take care of that.

"Are you…is that better?" Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan paused. He wasn't sure.

He shook his head. He couldn't trust himself to say anything in fear of losing whatever was left in his stomach.

"Okay." Anakin shifted next to Obi-Wan.

They both waited for a moment, two, three.

When Obi-Wan thought it was safe to speak again, his voice was hoarse. "You can't protect everyone, Anakin."

Anakin stiffened.

And then he said, "Well, neither can you."

"This is different. Countless lives—"

"And what about yours? Or mine?"

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin.

Anakin looked away. "I'm just saying," he said, his voice rough, "you…shouldn't be—we shouldn't—"

He stopped short, his hand slipping away from Obi-Wan's back.

"Anakin?"

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan again.

"Forget it," he said.

Obi-Wan waited for another moment. In case Anakin might—

But Anakin just stood up.

So not the right moment, then.

Anakin changed the bin while Obi-Wan slept.

It was an uneasy kind of sleep—Anakin could tell from the way Obi-Wan's breath hitched every once in a while, the way his head jerked to the side. Once or twice, Anakin slipped in another sleeping suggestion, and he waited until Obi-Wan relaxed before he could trust himself to breathe again.

Obi-Wan might scold him for that—just a little bit.

Anakin rested his head against the opposite side of the tent.

He watched Obi-Wan's chest rise and fall steadily, Anakin's robe more like a blanket than anything else.

Anakin closed his eyes. He was tired. He knew Obi-Wan was tired. He knew everyone was tired of the war. Leading successful attacks was one thing, but everything else that came with it…Anakin was tired.

"We shouldn't lose any more people," he said quietly.

"We shouldn't lose any more people."

Obi-Wan tried to keep his breathing even. He shifted a little to the side, just enough so that Anakin wouldn't see his face.

A/N: In my head, I see this as a fic taking place probably after season 5 and season 6…ie. peak sad tcw hours. I did a fic similar to this a few months ago, but I kind of wanted to expand and re-visit this concept of Anakin and Obi-Wan are both kind of tired and done with the war, a la some concussion things and Anakin mildly panicking because he's used to losing too many people right now.

As always, comments/kudos are greatly appreciated!

Come say hello on my tumblr (katierosefun)!