Her nightmares were interrupted by movement around her. Satine awoke with a gasp – first noting the biting cold that had set in – and then the figure in her lap.

"Obi-Wan…" The man's face was contorted into a grimace as he writhed in her grasp. His forehead was slick with sweat as she put her hand on it and he vainly tried to pull away as her cold fingers got in contact with his skin.

He was running a fever.

Cursing for the umpteenth time since their crash, the duchess eased the man down to lay flat against the stones and pulled the sleeping bag back, mentally preparing herself for what she would find.

The bandage she had pulled around the shrapnel had bled through, the skin that laid bare around it swollen and tinted in a deep red.

Infection.

Satine didn't know what to do, so she tried to rouse Obi-Wan, hoping he might have more medical knowledge then her - being a general on the war front he must have picked up a few bits and pieces from the medics.

She hated that thought of him risking his life like that on a daily basis. The bloodshed this forsaken war had brought upon the galaxy. The trauma it caused on those who had to fight in it.

In the beginning she had judged Obi-Wan for his position in all of this – but now she began to understand that he also was just a man who tried to see the light of the next day.

"Obi, you have to wake up…," she tried, her hands cradling his head and her fingers running over his temples.

The jedi again tried to twist away in response but she held him firmly in place. It took him another moment before his glassy eyes opened. He sucked in a shallow breath, struggling to focus on her.

"Satine?", he eventually grounded out, his voice still weak but a bit clearer then before, "Wh't…?"

"You're running a fever," she explained, her voice shaking and simultaneously brushing strands of hair from his face, "I think it's that shrapnel in your stomach but I… I don't know what to do."

She felt pathetic. Her vision blurred as tears wanted to overcome her again.

A trembling hand found its way up to her face, gently wiping away a wayward tear. "D'n't cry," Obi-Wan whispered, letting his hand drop again as his strength gave out again, "'m n't dead y't."

'Yet', a cynical voice inside her head hissed.

Satine huffed and shook her head at his comment. "You're insufferable."

The jedi tried to flash a grin which ended up more looking like a grimace as he suddenly tensed up again trying to curl up around himself in pain.

She quickly pushed her hands on his shoulders pinning him flat to the cold ground. Obi-Wan let out a grunt as her fingers put pressure on his burns and his pallor turned even more ghost-like than before.

"Sorry," she breathed, letting go of him as he stilled again, "I… you need to help me out."

He had closed his eyes momentarily, pulling in uneven breaths. "'m no m'dic."

"You certainly know more than I do," Satine bit out, trying to hide her anxiety.

Obi-Wan blinked his eyes back open, fixing her with an unreadable expression. "I ne'd to see the w'und," he eventually conceded, a bit of the haze clearing from his gaze, "Help me up."

"Are you sure?", Satine questioned immediately, wondering if the fever was impeding with his judgement. She didn't even know if he was aware of the damage that had been done to his body.

He only nodded sharply in response.

"Alright." Shifting behind him, she gently eased her hands under his upper back and neck, pulling him up slowly. She watched how his jaw tensed and his hands clenched into fists but he made no sound otherwise. Satine made sure to keep hold of his broken arm as soon as he halfway leaned against her, his head propped against her chest.

Obi-Wan began shaking as he took stock of his body and she feared he might pass out again.

She was glad that she hadn't removed the sleeping bag from his legs – the sight of the crushed limb being hard to bare.

"Obi-Wan?", she asked quietly, craning her neck to study him.

"… just need a moment," the jedi grunted, his face blank but his eyes betraying him, "… it's freezing."

"I know," Satine agreed following his gaze to the bandages that covered most of his burns – and the shrapnel wound, "… I'm sorry."

For all of it.

"Not your fault," Obi-Wan mumbled, not looking at her but she knew that it was not the truth.

Maybe they wouldn't have crashed if she would have manned the guns.

Silently she wondered why the side of the ship where she had been sitting hadn't been ripped apart like everything else.

A sinking feeling settled in her gut.

"… what did you do, Obi-Wan?"

The question hang in the air between them, making it hard to breathe.

"… I did what I had to."

You stubborn gundark.

"You could have protected yourself," she argued but without bite in her voice.

Obi-Wan tilted his head, meeting her with apologetic eyes which made her heart go out to him. "I tried… just must have passed out on impact … the rest was bad luck, I guess."

Bad luck indeed.

A cough wretched itself free from his lungs and Satine supported him as best as she could until the fit subsided again.

Numbly she observed how the bandage on his stomach took on an even darker shade of red. "We need to do something…"

"You need to prepare yourself for bleeding…," Obi-Wan pressed out after he was finally able to pull in a much needed breath, "… as soon as the shrapnel is out, you need to press down on the wound… no matter what I do."

Satine swallowed heavily and pulled their meager medkit close, eyeing the supplies that were left. "What if it doesn't stop bleeding?"

"… then there is nothing you can do."

Her eyes darted back to the man laying on her lap. "What do you mean?"

It was a stupid question, she knew darn well what he meant. But she needed to hear it from him.

"Then I'll die." His reply came out oddly neutral and impassive but the look on his face told a different story.

Resignation and Sadness. But mostly fear.

"I won't let it come to that."

"Satine, you can't-…," Obi-Wan started but she shushed him with a hand on his cheek, forcing his eyes on hers.

"I won't let it come to that," she repeated before releasing him again.

The jedi stared up at her for a moment, a mix of raw emotions swelling in his eyes, before he turned away.

Satine went over their supplies again.

Bandages, needles, thread, disinfectant and dangerously less bacta.

She had to work with this.

"Are you ready?", she asked as she settled next to Obi-Wan, first glancing at the wound than at his face.

He had closed his eyes. "... the better question is… are you? There is not much for me to do after all."

" You have to keep breathing," Satine retorted, "… but yes, I think I am as ready as I can get."

Obi-Wan's lungs rattled as he breathed. "Very well..," he blinked up at her again with tired eyes, "When you pull the shrapnel out, you need to pull slow but steadily. Don't stop. As soon as you got it out, stem the bleeding and clean the wound."

She still could not wrap her head around this. The panic that had settled deep inside her would not subside. Her ears started to ring and she found herself breathing faster, suddenly feeling like there was not enough air for her.

"You can do this, dear," his voice broke through the haze.

All she could see was red.

Satine squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "… No, I- I can't… I'm sorry."

Hectically she moved away from him, as if she had been burned and turned away, unable to face him any longer.

Obi-Wan didn't say anything – maybe he was not able to.

Satine pulled her knees close to her chest and let her head drop, finally allowing the tears to fall.

She had signed their defeat – his death.

The maelstrom in her head reached new volumes and unconsciously her hands started clawing at her hair, pulling in an effort to get herself back together.

It didn't work – and Satine got lost in the current.

Suddenly there was a new set of hands on her, a noise she could not assign.

"…tine!"

Her fingers clenched tighter around her hair.

"Satine!", a voice roared, halfway failing and then there was a weight on her – a body – a head colliding with hers.

Gasping, she was ripped back to reality.

A pair of blood-stained arms had dropped halfway around her, the fingers of one hand loosely clasping hers.

"Obi."

She twisted her upper body underneath him and with that his weight suddenly shifted off her – plummeting to the ground in a lifeless heap.

His broken leg lay twisted behind him, his upper body stretched in her direction. A trail of blood led from his previous position.

Her fingers shaking, she turned him on his back. He was ice-cold.

"You di'kut," Satine cursed sharply as she saw what he had done, pressing her hands down on the wound, "… why?"

She spotted the shrapnel approximately a meter behind her – an ugly thing, long and jagged.

Obi-Wan didn't stir as she pressed down on the gaping hole with all her might.

Her mind was sent spiraling. Deep down she knew why he had done it.

So you don't have to.

She pressed down harder, still gaining no reaction.

Am I a coward? Did I force him to do what he did?

The only thing she knew was that his blood would forever stick to her hands – no matter the outcome of this.

Satine wanted to hate him for his decision.

But she could not.

Could never.

"You don't get to leave like this…," she forced out as she increased the pressure, clinging to the hope that both of them had a fighting chance. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "… you've got your family waiting for you… Anakin, that young Togruta girl – Ahsoka was her name, right? … They need you, Obi-Wan…"

The bleeding finally decreased to an amount that she dared to take her hands off. Bile rose up in her throat as she took in the sight of the red liquid sticking to her hands. Desperately she tried to wipe it off on her already ruined tunic but it just stuck to her.

Maybe it was her destiny to ruin everything. To cause bloodshed even though she only ever wanted to bring peace.

She used what little disinfectant they had to clean Obi-Wan's wound and began to sew the hole closed with as even stitches she could make – her trembling hands made it almost impossible.

Obi-Wan did not stir once through the whole ordeal.

A dark voice whispered that he had already left her and she found herself clasping his hand in search for his pulse, only breathing again as she found the weak beat beneath her fingers.

With the last bit of energy she had left, Satine maneuvered him into the sleeping bag, pulling the fabric tightly around him to keep out the biting cold.

Shivering, she crawled into the second one - she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. So she began to count the hours along with the breaths Obi-Wan took.

After an hour, nothing had changed. But Satine didn't want to give up hope just yet.

At hour two, she found herself feeling for his pulse again. It was still there - somehow.

At hour three, she toyed with the idea of running to the shipwreck again in the hope of perhaps being able to send out a distress signal. She dismissed the thought as her eyes latched onto Obi-Wan's motionless form again. What if he woke up and she was gone?

Hour four had her pacing around restlessly, pulling her hair. When it became too much, she screamed into the darkness.

Of course, she got no answer.

At hour five, she decided to head for the wreck after all. She draped her sleeping bag over Obi-Wan's, quietly promising him to return, grabbed the flashlight and ran off.

At hour eight, she returned with the knowledge that the fire had destroyed everything.

Her tears began to fall at hour nine.

It was hour eleven when the madness slowly took hold of her mind. She thought about climbing up the canyon, returning to Death Watch's mines and stealing a ship there.

'Suicide', whispered a quiet voice of reason.

It was convincing enough for Satine to stay put.

At hour thirteen, she tuned out the voice. With trembling hands, she packed a few supplies and shouldered the rucksack. She took two knives, one she put on her belt - the other in her boot.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she knelt down next to Obi-Wan's head after placing a few water bottles and ration bars down for him, "But I have to try." She took hold of his face and pressed a small kiss on his forehead.

In the holodramas, this was always the point where the hero opened his eyes again. But this was the bitter reality and instead Satine was left staring into his lifeless face.

She eased him back down and quickly got to her feet. She forced herself not to look back again and set off.

At hour nineteen, Obi-Wan awoke to a deserted camp, no trace of Satine to be found.