For a long time Obi-Wan had believed that he had left the fear of being abandoned behind over the years. But when he opened his eyes - and no one was there - he felt the fear crawling under his skin anew, reminding him well-wrenchingly that he was worth nothing.
Qui-Gon had already made that clear back then. It was only a matter of time before others around him would realize it too.
"Satine?" he tried to call, his voice lost in the darkness. His throat was painfully dry and swallowing felt like he was trying to bring down a piece of sandpaper.
His vision blurred as he tried to take stock of his surroundings, his eyes first settling on the ration bars and water bottle at his side – and then at the bloodied tunic that laid abandoned a few paces away.
Obi-Wan twisted on his side to grab it – or tried to – and stopped halfway as a sharp pain made itself known. A strangled cry escaped his mouth as he flopped back against the floor, forcing his eyes closed against the wave of nausea that wanted to overcome him.
The sleeping bag Satine must have somehow maneuvered him into did little to keep away the chill but still he was grateful for the cushioning it provided.
The concept of time seemed to constantly slip his mind. He didn't know how long Satine was gone.
Or if she intended to return.
Obi-Wan tried to take a deep breath but found it increasingly difficult to do so. It felt like the world started to tilt around him even though he was already laying down.
His eyes slipped closed again and he succumbed to darkness again.
When he regained consciousness probably hours later, he already knew he didn't have long.
His entire side was swollen, his burns aching as if the fire was still licking at his skin. He didn't need to be a doctor to realize that the wounds had become infected.
His time had started ticking - and somehow that left him with a strange feeling. He had imagined countless times how he would die - but in none of his imaginings had he been alone in the end.
How naive of you.
For a moment, he closed his eyes again, trying to reach the Force.
It kept slipping from his grasp.
Sobbing, he withdrew and returned to staring into the night.
Did Anakin know something was wrong? Would he even look for him? Would he be able to cope if he was no longer there?
Es was a dark thought and it filled him with a sense of bitterness - and regret. He knew that Anakin hadn't needed him for a long time. The boy had grown up.
Obi-Wan only wished he had told him more often how proud he was of him.
His only consolation was that Anakin was not alone. Padme and Ahsoka - they would look out for him.
When he took his next breath it felt like he was choking and instead of getting oxygen into his lungs he started coughing, helplessly writhing on the ground. The fit got so bad that he got sick in somewhere between, retching out dark chunks of blood that splattered onto the stones next to him.
He stared absently at the now bloody ground, his face contorted in disgust as the smell wafted into his nose. The sight threatened to make him sick again, so he turned away as far as he could.
He could no longer feel his leg - but he could smell it. With every movement, he could feel the dead tissue resisting, tearing.
Obi-Wan struggled to remain conscious, even though he knew it was a hopeless endeavor. His eyes slid shut again and he silently wondered if he was allowed to open them once more.
His thoughts were answered when he woke up again an uncertain time later, his mind hazy and riddled with fever.
He was thirsty. Sluggishly, he remembered the water bottles left beside him and flipped his arm - the broken one, his body registered too late - in the approximate direction. The broken limp bent awkwardly with a dull ache, only managing to knock the water bottles over.
Resigned, Obi-Wan watched as his only chance of survival rolled away.
His fingers scraped across the ground, but found no leverage.
He stilled his movement, finally giving up.
There is no Death, there is the Force.
But where was the Force now?
For Obi-Wan, her voice had gone silent, and even when he called out to her, she did not answer. He felt no warmth, no security.
His vision began to blur again. He thought he saw a light in the distance, but his mind was surely playing a trick on him.
The hallucination quickly morphed into a very real-looking ship with a searchlight, hovering over the wreckage of their ship before finally flying on through the canyon.
Obi-Wan watched with only half a mind, barely flinching as the burning searchlight focused on him.
The ship landed a short distance away from him and, illuminated by the spotlight, he could make out the unmistakable silhouettes of Mandalorian armor, though his vision became increasingly blurred.
Even if it was a memorably bad time, he had nothing to object as his world went dark again.
"... Boss, I think he's dead..." a modulated voice reached his ears.
It was bitterly cold and as his consciousness slowly returned, he realized that they must have pulled him out of the sleeping bag, ungracefully throwing him on the unforgiving stone floor.
"Nonsense," another grim voice ruled back, "... Jedi don't die easily."
Someone stepped on his broken leg.
So not dead after all, a thought flashed through his mind as he cried out sharply - or at least tried to, with a throat so dry he could barely manage a croak.
Gasping, he blinked his glassy eyes open, looking up into Viszla's grinning face.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Kenobi," the Death Watch leader chuckled as he crouched down beside him.
His smile gave way to an icy stare. "Where is the Duchess?"
His ears were ringing and he could barely hear him.
What was the question?
He blinked again, lost to the world.
Viszla seemed to have no patience. His fingers dug into his hair with a snarl, yanking him upwards.
"Where is the duchess?" he urged angrily, shaking him, "Go on, speak."
Ah, he's looking for Satine.
A maniacal laugh escaped him, shortly followed by a fit of coughing. Blood splattered on Viszla's armor. "... I h've n'o idea...," he finally rapped out through bloodied teeth, fixing the man with a grin.
The hand tightened in his hair, pulling out a few strands. "You think that's funny?" Viszla hissed.
Considering that you and your men failed to find her until now, you don't leave much of a lasting impression on me.
"K'nd of," he mocked, amusement wrangling with the pain he was in.
Viszla suddenly let go of him and his head smacked against the stone, making him taste blood again. For a second, he could not see a thing.
"You know, if you had helped me, I might have shown mercy," Viszla growled, "Would have granted you a quick death."
A foot planted itself on his chest, pressing down onto his burns. "Well, until then, you and I can have a little fun."
With a hiss, the darksaber's black blade activated, hovering mere inches from his face.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the burning heat, pleading for the Force to finally call him home.
Satine threw herself to the ground, ducking behind one of the stones as a ship whizzed overhead. Wide-eyed, she watched it disappear into the distance - in the direction she had come from.
Viszla is searching for us.
"Obi-Wan," she gasped out, her mind now racing on what she should do.
It was impossible for her to turn back. The way was too long and she had too little energy left. If she wasn't already kneeling, her knees would have given way now. She pressed her hand to her mouth and stifled a sob as she realized what this meant.
Viszla would find Obi-Wan.
And he would kill him.
If he was still alive at all.
Satine was aware that his condition was worse than bad and it left her with a strong sense of guilt - knowing that she was responsible for his condition.
Perhaps she hadn't made the decision to leave just to save him - perhaps she had made it out of cowardice. She couldn't watch him die.
And instead you left him behind, alone, disoriented - probably scared.
You are cruel, Satine Kryze.
She had to reach the mines, steal a ship. If she was fast enough, then - then they had a chance.
With renewed vigor, she leapt to her feet and ran as fast as her legs would carry her towards the mines. It couldn't be far now.
It was not allowed to be far.
Satine did not know how long she ran. It might have been five minutes or two hours – time was a meaningless construct – even though she was racing against the clock.
As the mines finally came into view, she slowed her pace, keeping herself hidden in between the rocks. Her eyes flitted over the compound, scanning for a ship. Perhaps for the first time that day, she was lucky. There was a small freighter outside the gates, guarded by two soldiers.
Without hesitation, she pulled out one of the knives she had pocketed and stalked towards it. She needed a distraction as she wanted to avoid a direct confrontation. It might take her a few seconds to sneak onto the ship and close the ramp.
Her fingers tightened around the knife handle as she took cover near the ship. The men had their backs turned to her, deep in conversation.
Good.
Satine scraped a small stone from the ground and threw it as far as she could. The impact echoed through the rock formation and did what she had hoped it would. Both soldiers moved from their positions, clearing the entrance to the ship.
That was all she needed. Sprinting off, she shot up the ramp, barely hearing the two men shout, and smashed the button that closed the ramp with such force that her hand hurt before she bolted further into the cockpit.
Within moments the engines roared to life and she was airborne, flying as fast as she could back to the crash site.
The sight she was met with at the scene made her blood run cold, a group of Death Watch soldiers stood around Obi-Wan - holding him down - while Viszla stood over the Jedi, darksaber in hand. Even from a distance, Satine could see the fresh blood covering Obi-Wan's chest.
Their approach did not go undetected and they began to stream apart, trying to get to their ship. A few blaster bolts sailed towards Satine, bouncing off the surface of the ship.
Snarling, she made a decision she would probably regret later.
Fingers tightening, she leveled the weapons - and fired.
Viszla and his men had no chance against the onslaught.
Satine's thumbs released from the triggers with a snap and for the first time in seconds she dared to breathe.
In front of her, the ground where the shots had hit the stones was smoking. Between them were the motionless bodies of Death Watch.
Dazed, she landed and shortly afterwards stumbled down the ramp, making a wide berth around the fallen men.
Obi-Wan did not move as she approached. But now she could see what Viszla had done. The darksaber's hilt lay discarded next to the Jedi's legs, but Satine barely paid attention to that. Her eyes were focused on the letters that had been burned into his chest.
JEDI SCUM
Her stomach somersaulted, forcing her to turn away for a second.
When she had collected herself, she immediately knelt down next to Obi-Wan, cradling his head with her hands.
"Obi-Wan, can you hear me?", she tried, shifting one of her hands to feel for a pulse.
Still alive.
He did not answer, didn't even flinch.
Cursing under her breath, Satine sat back. She needed to get him to the ship which meant she somehow had to carry him. By hand.
Her eyes again fell on the darksaber and without thinking about it she took it and clipped to the back of her belt.
Then she carefully proceeded to shift Obi-Wan onto his side and began to heave him onto her back, slinging her arms around his legs and taking hold of his hands.
"Sorry… sorry…," she whispered as she manhandled him, imagining the pain it must cause. But Obi-Wan did not stir, remaining a deadweight on her back.
With shaking legs she tried to get up but her knees buckled from the strain. Biting her lips, Satine tried again, forcing herself upwards and this time she finally got him up. Painfully slow she made to the ship and managed to dispose him on one of the cots in the ship before rushing to the cockpit, punching in the coordinates for Sundari.
It was only a twenty minutes fight – she could do it. Thinking about it, she parallel used the comm system to send ahead a message to the central hospital.
As if in a trance, she barely noticed how she reached Sundari, landed the ship on the hospital's landing pad and a team of doctors rushed towards her, a stretcher between them. They shifted Obi-Wan from the bunk and immediately began to access him, mumbling words Satine didn't understand. Without much hesitation, they made their way out of the ship, through the large doors of the hospital.
Satine started to follow until another team of doctors stopped her, urging her to sit down and let them have a look at her. She wanted to protest, but she simply didn't have the energy, so she let them.
They didn't find much, just the superficial cuts on her palms and a few scratches on her face.
It wasn't long before she found herself in the waiting area, nervously tapping her foot on the floor. Her thoughts were racing.
Obi-Wan. JEDI SCUM. Death Watch. Islaughteredthem.
Groaning, she let her head sink into her hands, wishing she could block out the noises around her.
After five hours of endless waiting, a nurse came to tell her that she could now see Obi-Wan. Breath caught in her throat, Satine nodded stiffly and stood up to follow the woman.
When they reached the sickroom, Satine stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, shocked by the sight before her.
"Due to the time that has passed since receiving his injuries, we could only do little for the burns," the nurse explained calmly, checking the machines Obi-Wan was hooked up to, "We have reapplied bacta bandages, but we fear he will be extensively scarred."
Satine swallowed hard, finally approaching the bed. "And... the wound on his chest?" she asked hesitantly.
JEDI SCUM
"The cut was deep," the woman looked at her sympathetically, "...I'm afraid it will remain legible."
"I understand."
That's my fault.
"For the inflammation, however, we are confident that he will make a full recovery. The shrapnel fortunately missed his organs so there shouldn't be any major complications."
Satine still found herself at a loss of words. "What about his arm and leg?" she finally forced out, eyeing the long cast poking out from the end of the bedspread, only revealing Obi-Wan's pale toes.
"The arm is no problem, a few more days with the bacta cast and it should be as good as new. The leg on the other hand...," she faltered and Satine caught her gaze with sharp eyes, "... it's more complicated. The bones will take a few weeks to heal and only then will he be able to start physical therapy. With luck, he'll be able to walk halfway normally again in a few months."
"With luck? ...halfway?"
The nurse grimaced. "I'm sorry, it's just too early to say for sure."
She forced herself to take a deep breath. "Of course. Apologies."
"I'm afraid I have to see to the other patients now... You're welcome to sit with him if you like, but I'm afraid he won't be waking up for the next few hours."
With only half an eye, she watched as the nurse left the room, settling down on one of the chairs next to the bed instead. She gently reached for his hand, which was not in a cast.
"I should never have dragged you into this," she murmured softly, slowly kneading his fingers, "... you had to pay for my stubbornness... I'm sorry."
For a moment, she saw the blood on her fingers again, making her pull away from Obi-Wan. She had killed them.
I have killed them.
A tear escaped the corner of her eye and her sobs broke the silence of the room.
She didn't realize how long she had been sitting there, but when there was a sudden knock at the door, she was snapped back to reality. She hastily wiped away the tears and fixed her hair.
"Come in," she called.
It was the nurse again.
With a shy smile, the lady stuck her head in. "Duchess, there is someone who wants to speak to you."
"Of course, I'll- I'll be out in a moment."
With a click, the door closed again and Satine took this moment to recompose herself. Once she had her breathing under control, she stood up and approached Obi-Wan's bed once more.
With one hand, she gently brushed a loose strand of hair from his face, resting her thumb briefly over his temple. He took no notice. Satine pressed her lips into a thin line, fighting the urge to plant a kiss on his cheek.
She couldn't do it - the wrongness echoing all around the sheer thought of it.
"Rest, Obi-Wan," she murmured instead, withdrawing her hand. Finally, she took a step back, taking one last look at his still form, and left the room, now having to face her duties as a duchess once more.
And the end...
Though I might add a chapter about the recovery if people are interested.