#and asking anakin (desperately) if he feels a BIT tortured for sleeping with someone who isn't his soulmate

[tennessoui]

ok ok ok “the good place” au 

(the good place is a show where 4 humans are placed in a seemingly idyllic neighborhood after death called simply ‘the good place’ and they get to know the architect angel (michael) who designed it, but one human (eleanor) knows she was placed there by mistakes and there’s a ton of hijinks etc etc before she realizes that actually this has been ‘the bad place’ all along and the entire neighborhood is set up to torture them based on their lives and personalities on earth)

where anakin is eleanor who arrives at the good place and knows for sure he shouldn’t be there and obi-wan is michael,the demon who poses as the architect in order to torture the humans

only there’s never been an authority figure anakin’s met that he hasn’t wanted to sleep with, so obviously that’s what he tries with obi-wan because if the angel sleeps with him, surely he won’t throw him out after he finds out that Anakin isn’t supposed to be in The Good Place??

so he somehow seduces obi-wan (a demon who finds humans weird and gross and fascinating and why does this feel so good this is so weird why are you putting this dangly thing in your mouth) and at first obi-wan is vastly confused before he realizes that actually, there’s no better way to torture anakin than to give him attention and then take it away without any sort of explanation.

only.....anakn isn’t one to give up easily, especially because sex with virgin!obi-wan (omg he’s corrupting an angel every time they meet in obi-wan’s office for private sessions) is amazing and he isn’t really attracted to his soulmate who seems much too much into justice and law for his lifestyle.

only.....obi-wan finds it harder and harder to deny anakin his attention and touch as the affair carries on, even when he starts to realize that for anakin, this is not registering as torture at all in his mind.

[blacklilyqueen]

Maybe tomorrow

Summary: Rex and Ahsoka both worry about each other after the war and desperately hope for a sign to know that the other is still alive.

Pairing: Rexsoka

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1849

Note: Based on this comic by @luoiae​

"Any news from Ahsoka, Wolffe?" "No."

Part of him had expected that answer, yet he hoped for some news from her. It didn't have to be much. Just a small token to let him know she was okay, that she was safe, that she was alive.

Rex hadn't heard from her since their escape a few months ago. At first, he thought she was just trying to maintain a low profile. Messages could be intercepted and right now it was important that he, and especially she, stayed out of sight. And even though that thought was somewhat comforting, he always wondered if something bad had happened to her.

He wished he could have contacted her, but for their safety, they both thought it would be the best if he didn't know her exact location. His days were filled with as many chores as possible, hoping it might distract him from his worries. But every night, when he closed his eyes and nothing else remained to occupy him, he would see her in front of him. Sometimes everything was peaceful. She just stood there looking at him with that beautiful smile. Her eyes shone with joy and it was as if nothing could destroy that moment.

However, there were other nights. Nights when he woke up from sleep with his eyes wide open and his heart racing. His mind plagued by images of Ahsoka, covered in blood and in captivity. He saw the Emperor’s Inquisitors torturing her. Heard her screams. Had to watch her die slowly but surely. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He had such a dream that night and like every time he had hoped for a message from her to make sure she was alright. Almost every day he asked Wolffe if he had heard from her and day after day he was disappointed. He left the former clone commander behind and returned to his daily distractions.

Maybe tomorrow he would hear from her.

 "Hey, Rex. I hope you're all safe."

Although there were a thousand things she wanted to say to him and tell him about, that was all she said. For months she had tried to contact him over and over again, but he never answered any of her transmissions. So it happened that she didn't produce more than that one sentence, because at that moment all the other things didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that he was safe.

More and more often she caught herself worrying about him. What if the Empire found out he was alive? What if they knew he had helped her escape? It would be his death sentence.

But maybe he just cared about her and was afraid to answer her. Over the past few months, she had increasingly tried to convinced herself that it must be because of that. Although this thought gave her a little comfort, she still wanted certainty.

Maybe he would answer tomorrow.

 "She still hasn't...?" "No."

"I see," the words hardly seemed to leave his mouth. He stood with his back to Wolffe and now turned his head away again. His muscles tensed a little at Wolffe's answer and his fingernails dug into his palm even though he didn't realize it. He was about to leave when Wolffe said something else:

"She's not dead. If she were, we'd know it. The Empire tends to make a big spectacle out of the death of a Jedi."

Rex knew he was right. He also knew Wolffe only meant well, yet it was anything but reassuring. The thought of Ahsoka's death plagued him enough as it was, now saying it out loud didn't make it any better. Three years was an extremely long time when you don’t know if the other person is still alive or not. He fervently hoped so, but his doubts grew with each passing day.

He turned his head once again in his brother's direction and gave him a small nod. He didn’t have enough strength for more. He left the room and went to the small cabin that the three clones shared for sleeping. Since Gregor was exploring, Rex had a moment of peace to himself. The door closed and so did Rex's eyes. He took one deep breath and as he exhaled, he slammed his hand, still clenched into a fist, against the wall next to him with all his strength.

He ignored the pain in his hand as his knees gave way and he slowly went down. His back was now leaning against the wall he had just punched. He angled his legs, propped his elbows on his thighs and buried his face in his hands. His chest rose and fell faster and faster as his heart seemed to contract further and further. When he lifted his face, he ran his right hand over his short hair, trying to get his breathing back to normal.

She's not dead. She is not dead. She is not dead.

Over and over again he repeated the words in his head. As his whole body focused on that thought, he slowly calmed down. His breathing was back to normal, the pain in his chest lessened, and his muscles began to relax.

She’d contact him tomorrow.

Yes, he was sure she would. Wolffe was right. If she were dead, he would know. He shouldn't worry. Soon he would hear her voice again, assuring him that she was alive. He tried to hold on to that thought, but part of his mind wouldn't give him that peace, and so a second thought mixed in.

There are things much worse than death.

No. She was fine. She would call tomorrow. She had to call tomorrow. Because he didn't know what to do if she wouldn’t.

 "It's been a while. I hope you're okay."

Even Ahsoka could hear how weak her voice sounded. It had been too long since she had last seen Rex. Her mind kept wandering back to that day. She shouldn't have left him. She should have stayed. Every time she left, she lost the people who mattered most to her. It was like she was abandoning everyone she cared about.

Rex, Anakin, Obi Wan, the 501st, the Order, she had abandoned them all more than once and she had lost them all. But this time there was no going back. The Jedi Order was past, Anakin and Obi Wan were dead, only Rex was left. At least, that's what she hoped. She couldn't possibly admit to herself that the last person who represented a connection to her former life had just disappeared like that.

Again and again she thought about flying to him to make sure he was okay. But she could not risk putting him in danger. No matter if someone followed her or if they clashed with the Empire on the ground, she could not let him die because of her. And he would if they were seen together.

"Please contact me. Please. Please. Please."

The connection had been broken for a long time, so she spoke only to herself. He would get back to her tomorrow. She clung to that thought as tightly as she could. Yes, he most certainly would.

“…” “Still nothing.”

He didn't even have to say anything anymore. It had been 14 years, and yet Rex asked the same question every day. There was a time when the uncertainty had made him angry, but not anymore. Where anger used to be there was now a great emptiness now. He had grown accustomed to taking no for an answer. When you expected nothing, you couldn't be disappointed, but hopelessness hurt just as much and Rex couldn't tell which pain was worse.

For a time he thought it would be the best to accept that she was dead. If it were true, he wouldn't have to worry every day about the unknown. And if it were false, he would be even more relieved should she come to him after all. But he was so wrong. Day after day he had reproached himself for declaring her dead just like that. How could he ever look her in the eye and tell her that he had simply given up on her? He couldn't do that to her and he couldn't do that to himself.

So every day he lived with the pain of hope that would probably never be fulfilled. And with each passing day, that hope dwindled bit by bit. He could never bring himself to fully acknowledge her death, but he knew that he would probably never hear her voice again, never see her face again, and never touch her body again.

Despite the daily disappointment, a part of him whispered to him, as it had every day for the past 14 years: maybe tomorrow.

 "I hope you're still alive."

Ahsoka tried to suppress the tremor in her voice. But it didn't help and she felt her voice break on the last word. Hot tears ran down her cheeks and clouded her vision.

All these years she had convinced herself that there must have been a reasonable reason why he didn't answer. Had convinced herself that he must still be alive, but now she was no longer sure. The horrible truth she had recently learned made her doubt his safety.

The feeling of Anakin's presence in the Force surrounded by icy coldness, which held him captive and had completely taken possession of him, wouldn’t let go of her. She did not want to believe it, but it had to be true. Anakin was Vader, and once she admitted that to herself, all her hopes that her old friends were still alive were dashed.

She knew how obsessed Anakin could be, and if he really had turned to the Dark Side, he certainly wouldn't let up in pursuit of his goals. If he knew Rex was still alive and that he had helped her escape, that he had disobeyed the Order 66 and sided with the Jedi, Vader would kill him without hesitation.

The only thing that gave her a little hope was that her old master had thought her dead, and hopefully the same was true for Rex. He certainly wouldn't have wasted time looking for a single clone who was presumed dead. But if Vader had even the slightest suspicion that one of them might still be alive and rebelling against him and the Empire, it would have been a sure death sentence.

But if Vader had really found Rex and learned that his inhibitor chip had been removed, he would have expected Ahsoka to still be alive. Yes, that's how it had to be. So Vader couldn't have known about Rex. Normally this should be good news, but even without the danger from Vader, there were a thousand other things that could have killed Rex. But she didn't want to think about that. Kanan, Ezra and the others would surely find him soon and then they would meet again.

But a small voice in her head whispered: Maybe tomorrow…but maybe never.

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober2020 - Day 11

We continue onward with the oof!au (part 11). They’ve got a long road back to being alright, but they’re taking some of the first steps.

General Info: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending. Past/eventual Codywan. Previous one-sided Vaderwan. 

WARNINGS: Consideration of past injuries, past non-con, and past torture. Processing the loss of a limb. Fall-out from mind control. Emotional trauma.

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED 

Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

Obi-Wan’s head hurt. Everything else, he noted, as he swam up through the dark of unconsciousness, hurt as well. He was long ago grown used to that; it barely registered, really, and he wished he’d stayed unconscious.

But something had woken him. Something besides the pain. He blinked his eyes open, expecting the gray walls of his cell, or, perhaps, if he were very unlucky, the inside of Anakin’s private chambers, a shudder moving through him as he took stock of his surroundings.

He blinked across at a gray wall, vaguely aware of voices and, impossibly, the hum of hyperdrive engines. For a long moment the world made no sense. He reflexively stretched out his senses with the Force, half-remembering that it wouldn’t do any good, that he was collared and--

Sensation slammed into his head, flowing through him, as though the Force had just been waiting for him to open a pathway. He felt -- so much -- too much -- all at once. Emotions swam up into him; anger and guilt and regret and hurt and --

Obi-Wan gulped for breath, letting the emotions flow through him, accepting them and letting them go, burning his nerves and leaving him shaking. He could have attempted to block them, to shield away from the feelings, but the touch of the Force was such a relief.

He’d thought, honestly, that Anakin would kill him before he ever felt the embrace of the Force, ever again. He could not bring himself to shy away from it, even though it hurt, shaded and full of agony, radiating from all around him. He remembered, distantly, throwing himself into it, in Anakin’s throne room, desperate to stop Anakin from hurting his men. Beyond that, things were blurry. Cody had - impossibly - been himself again, somehow.

Obi-Wan had thrown himself into a healing trance, feeling all the damage inside his body, trusting that Cody would get him out, and then he’d….gone away, for awhile. Pain brought him back.

He knew how to handle pain. He knew how to breathe through it, until the emotions became a sort of background hum, filling him but not disallowing other thought. He sipped at the air, blinking at a gray ceiling, focusing on untangling the snarl of the Force around him.

He was...surrounded by troopers. He knew their minds so well. The way their thoughts moved was familiar and comforting, even if they all felt unwell, as though they’d been broken and left in shattered pieces. His men were hurt, and the thought dug down into him, past the confusion and disorientation. His men were hurt; he had to help them.

He lurched to sitting, reaching up to grip at the side of his head, hissing as the movement pulled at the wounds scattered across his body. Something tugged at his arm and he looked down at the little I.V. tucked in at the curve of his right elbow. The only elbow he had left, he remembered, with a shivery, unpleasant feeling.

Obi-Wan glanced to his left arm, gut clenching as memory clawed into his head. Anakin had circled him, made him stand, staring into the faces of his men, made his stretch out his arm, purred, “This is only fair, isn’t it? Say it, Obi-Wan.”

And he had, because the alternative was worse.

Obi-Wan made himself look, really look, at all that remained of his left arm, and swallowed convulsively. The lightsaber had, at least, kept him from bleeding out. The scars around the abbreviated limb were thick and dark. He jerked his gaze away, taking stock of the pieces of him that remained, the I.V. coming out of his other arm.

The line led to a hanging bag of fluid. It was swaying, gently, from his movement. He was… sitting on a little medical bed. There was a medical droid, puttering around close to him, changing course to approach.

The walls were not terribly familiar, nothing he’d seen exactly before, but they reminded him of the set-up on the Negotiator, his fine ship, destroyed like so much else and-- He shook those thoughts aside.

He was… on a ship. He considered, with a shiver, that perhaps he had not hallucinated Cody crouching in front of him, promising that Anakin was dead, that they were getting out, all of them….

He rubbed at his head, hissing again as his fingers brushed bandages and the edge of stitches. He’d… been hurt, hit on the head. He recalled that, when he tried to focus. He’d been… fighting Anakin. Anakin, who had been so sure of the utter success of his plans, so sure that he’d found a way to keep Obi-Wan pinned right where he wanted.... 

Anakin had always been sloppy. Over-confident when he caught the briefest edge of success. Obi-Wan had tried to help him move past that, tried to offer him training and advice. He was grateful, all at once, that Anakin had never learned those lessons.

Obi-Wan scrubbed at his face and asked, as the droid rolled to a stop before him, his voice still a rasp - he wondered, absently, if he’d ever recover, “I don’t suppose you could tell me where I am?”

Cody had, obviously, carried him to the ship. Or perhaps he’d walked under his own power. His memories were a jumbled mess, confused by the head injury he’d taken. The droid chirped at him, irritably, something about his injuries and staying still. 

Obi-Wan ignored it. Someone had tended to his wounds. He was bandaged across his chest and side, the smell of bacta heavy in his nose. The smell made his stomach twist, nauseatingly, associated with injuries, with laying in a cell, with wondering what Anakin would do to him next, and--

Obi-Wan swallowed bile, shaking his head. 

He wanted to know what had happened. He had jumbled memories of talking to Cody, really Cody, not the other person who he’d been turned into. Cody had lifted him, hadn’t he? Held him with shaking hands? Hadn’t he?

Obi-Wan stretched out his thoughts again, working to maintain some level of control. He searched for Cody’s mind and got--a blur back. A presence, but dim and hurt. Unconscious. His heart tripped over, jerking unpleasantly in his chest, and he stood, ordering the droid, “Take this out,” and stretching out his arm.

The droid told him to get back on the bed and he scowled at it. He could probably figure out how to remove the I.V. with one hand, but it would take time, and he, abruptly, didn’t feel very patient. He grabbed the bag, instead.

He’d been wrapped in a blanket, which he appreciated. Someone had cleaned him up before patching him back together. He pulled the soft fabric up and around his shoulders as he swung his feet over the side of the bed, letting his legs dangle for a moment as dizziness and nausea moved through him.

He’d been to the healers often enough to know the vertigo was a sign he ought not try to stand. But… Well. He’d never been very good at doing what the healers wanted. He stood, with no free hands to brace on anything, and after a moment the room stopped spinning a bit.

The stilling of the room allowed him to notice that he’d stepped in something sticky. He blinked down, vision blurring for a moment. There was a… reddish smear on the ground. Dark. Tacky. He’d seen blood enough to recognize it out of hand, and followed the smear of it. It led towards one of the private med rooms, disappearing beyond it.

“Hello?” he repeated, unable to raise his voice above a whisper. He shuffled, carefully, over to the door. “Anyone?” Someone had bandaged his injuries, treated them as well as possible without a bacta tank. The troopers, he assumed. He could feel their minds, all around. Most of them seemed to be sleeping, a few very busy.

One such mind was close by, but not through the door with the smear of blood. 

The mind behind that door was unconscious, not just asleep. Those two states felt different through the Force. Obi-Wan shivered, because, even unconscious he recognized the mind, the bright soul. Cody.

Obi-Wan ignored the busy minds, the sleeping minds, and the droid. He didn’t call out again. It hurt his throat to talk, and he didn’t want to disturb any of the sleepers around him. He pushed the door open with the Force and hesitated another moment, in the doorway 

There were three little beds in the room. Only one was occupied. The trail of blood led right to it. Cody lay under the blankets, hooked up to wires and tubes, his brow furrowed even in unconsciousness, a little bandage on his brow. The shape of the blankets made it clear that there were more bandages beneath them, bulky and misshapen.

The cold of the hall seeped up through the soles of Obi-Wan’s feet, into his legs, leaving him shivering.

Obi-Wan rasped, “Force,” ignoring the pain in his throat, limping across the room to stop by the other side of Cody’s bed. He hooked the bag still attached to him to the hooks over Cody’s bed and reached out to press his fingers against Cody’s throat, fear crawling up his spine because Cody was so still, color bad, gone grayish, and even with the reassurance of the Force--

He had a pulse. Steady. Obi-Wan sagged, shifting, pulling fussily at the blanket over Cody’s chest, blinking his blurry eyes as a familiar voice from the doorway said, “He’s going to be fine.”

Obi-Wan blinked over at Bones and it was disorienting, seeing him standing there, with emotion on his face. Obi-Wan didn’t understand what happened. He kept waiting to wake up from this sweet, impossible dream. He asked, voice a whisper, “Are you sure?”

Bones’ mouth quirked up. He said, “I’m sure. He was gut shot. Liver damage. Lost a lot of blood. But he’ll recover. We’re built sturdy.” Bones took a step forward and said, “You’re not supposed to be out of bed, yet, General.” But he made no move to shoo Obi-Wan away.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I feel much better.” Which was not the same as saying he felt well. “I suppose I have all of you to thank for that?” He tried to make his tone light, to get his voice closer to the way it used to sound, once upon a time.

He, apparently, didn’t succeed. Bones flinched, looking to the side, his hands bailing into fists as he said, “No, sir. You don’t need to thank us for anything.”

Obi-Wan blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden cut and snarl of Bones’ emotions. He swayed, bracing his hand on Cody’s bed, taking the wave of emotion like a blow, and-- and he released it, all of it, managing to say, “I don’t believe that. But I also...don’t know what happened.” He looked up, met Bones’ dark gaze.

Bones sighed and said, “Sir, you’re not much better off than him, you need to lay down and--”

“I can rest in here,” Obi-Wan insisted, tugging the blankets straight once more and carefully making his way around the bed. He sat, stubborn, in a chair by Cody’s, and looked up into Bones’ expression.

Bones grimaced. “Sir, I--”

“You’ll have to drag me away,” Obi-Wan said, calm, intending only to make his position clear, and flinched as Bones’ emotions contracted all at once, into horror and guilt and--

And by the time Obi-Wan swallowed down the nausea that had risen in his throat, wrestling with his own mind for control and achieving it after a moment, Bones had turned away to start gathering supplies. 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, carefully, unsure why, exactly, his words had such an effect. He still wasn’t sure what had happened. Bones shook his head, once, a muscle in his jaw jumping, over and over. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” Obi-Wan asked, gently, because he needed to know and because he wanted to distract Bones from the agony inside his own head, bleeding out of him with each instant. Bones hesitated. “How we got away, I mean? How you - you all got free?”

He’d known they were in there, his men. He’d been trying desperately to figure out how to free them. And, apparently, they’d gone ahead and done it themselves. Bones wouldn’t meet his eyes, as he said, “I’ll explain if you let me check you over without a fuss.”

And Obi-Wan could agree to that, resisting the urge to flinch away when Bones tugged the blanket open. He forced himself to relax, feet flat on the ground, and Bones looked over his skin, clearing his throat before he spoke, “There were...chips, in our heads, sir. Controlling what we did. I know that it took too long, but a few of us - the Commander, me. Crys. We managed to break them. We’ve been freeing the others.”

Pride and warmth spread through Obi-Wan’s chest as he leaned back against the chair. They were so brave, the troopers. So strong. He couldn’t imagine the difficulty of - of breaking the control of something in their own heads. 

“Thank you,” he said, feeling Bones jerk to a stop again, “for freeing me, too.”

Bones said nothing, only breathed raggedly for a moment, horror and guilt radiating out of him again, and Obi-Wan did not understand what he’d said. He shifted a little, asking, “Bones, is--”

“This is going to hurt a little,” Bones said, cutting him off, voice thick and half-strangled as he lifted a bandage on Obi-Wan’s ribs. The pain was, comparatively, so minor that Obi-Wan barely noticed it. Bones had always had a soft touch, anyway. 

“I’ve upset you,” Obi-Wan said, persisting, because he couldn’t - wouldn’t - ignore the pain of his men. “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t,” Bones gritted out, turning his shoulders away, curling his head down, sounding gutted. “Please, sir, don’t--don’t do that.” 

Obi-Wan stared at him, watching his shoulders shake, even as his hands stayed steady. Obi-Wan sat there, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, as Bones gathered himself and busied his hands with the tangle of tubes around Cody, stepping back after a moment, his face still turned away, voice hoarse when he said, “You can stay in here, as long as you rest.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, automatically, and Bones nodded, stiffly, before turning and walking from the room.

Obi-Wan watched him go, feeling tired and battered, beaten inside his head. They all hurt, so much. He needed to help them, but--but it would have to wait, just a little while. He leaned back in the chair, wincing as it pulled on all the newly treated wounds across his body and some of the older hurts.

The burns on his back had healed, technically. They pulled, every time he tried to move, a constant reminder of what Anakin had done. He set the discomfort aside, and, after a long moment, leaned his head back, blinking at the ceiling, comforted by the awakened mind around him, but Cody, breathing steadily beside him.

He needed more answers about what had happened. And he needed to help his men. But that could all… wait. Just a little while. He lifted his hand, hesitantly, started to reach towards Cody’s bed and froze, because sitting still, with no one else to distract him, allowed memories to crawl up into his head.

And Obi-Wan had so many memories he didn’t want, of Cody gripping his legs, his hips, fingers digging in cruelly, mechanical and unfeeling. Before, years ago, he’d imagined what it might be like, to have Cody’s hands on his skin. To allow himself to be pulled close and held, and then--

He swallowed convulsively, and made himself stay where he was, made himself resist the urge to jerk away.

It hadn’t been Cody.

It hadn’t.

Just Anakin, finding another way to hurt him.

Obi-Wan dragged his mind away from the memories. Looking for balance in the Force and reaching the rest of the way out. It took only the work of a moment to find Cody’s hand on the bed. Obi-Wan curled fingers around his unnaturally cool skin - the troopers usually ran so hot - and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t mean to pass out, but he must have. He woke to a surge of emotion through the Force, splintering down through his head, something bitter and sharp and all-consuming. He jerked to wakefulness, expecting alarms and the sounds of battle. 

None of that seemed to be happening. Many of the minds around him were still resting. There was just Cody, who was--

Breathing raggedly, obviously awake. Obi-Wan blinked over at him, and found Cody staring down at the bed, at where Obi-Wan’s fingers were still curled around his palm. “You’re awake,” Obi-Wan said, barely above a whisper, relief coursing through him. 

“What are you doing?” Cody asked, voice thick, almost choked. He felt--like too many different things, before he exerted some kind of terrible control on his emotions, dragging them back, holding them tight.

It was a stunning amount of control from someone without the Force, someone so badly injured. Cody’s emotions all but disappeared, leaving Obi-Wan reeling at the sudden loss, and unsure how he’d managed it. 

He swallowed, blinking to try to steady himself, and shaking his arm, just a little. “You were hurt,” he said. “While saving me, I--Cody?”

Cody had flinched. Obi-Wan felt it, a roil of something deep and terrible moving through his emotions. He turned his face away, breathing hard, hand stiff under Obi-Wan’s touch, and… Oh. Oh, perhaps Obi-Wan should not have come into this room, should not have bothered him.

Perhaps, Obi-Wan considered, his men were - were not exactly happy to be reminded of his weakness. His inability to rescue them in a timely fashion, the amount of time it had taken him to - to realize they were even trapped in their minds. All his failures rose up in his head and he jerked his hand away, swallowing hard and blinking away the burning sting in his eyes. “Oh,” he said, quietly, “I’m terribly sorry. I’ll--”

“What?” Cody demanded, his voice low and ragged, he turned, and at least Obi-Wan could see his expression, could see it breaking behind the tight lines of control. “What the kriff are you sorry about?”

“I…” Obi-Wan blinked. He wondered what the right answer was and set the thought aside. Cody wasn’t Anakin. “I failed you, I know, I’ll just--Bones is--” He stood, because he knew he needed to make apologies, but he hurt, so much, inside.

“You didn’t fail anyone,” Cody ground out, and groaned, terribly, when he sat up and reached out, stopping an inch away from grabbing Obi-Wan’s arm, fingers stretched out, almost brushing skin. “You--what are you even talking about?”

Obi-Wan looked at Cody’s extended hand, memories sleeting through his head, lightning fast, there and gone. He swallowed and marshalled himself. “I did. I failed you all for years. I failed Trip and--”

“No,” Cody interrupted, swinging his legs off the bed, alarms chiming to life around them, reporting his movement to whatever medics might be around to hear. Obi-Wan could feel Bones’ tired thoughts, spiking with irritation at his frustrating patients. “You--”

And before he could say anything else the ship shuddered all over. Obi-Wan knew well enough what a ship coming out of hyperspace wrong felt like, and he held his breath, focusing on the distant hum of the engines, coming up through the deck. It continued, for just a moment, and then it stopped, completely.

A moment later the primary lighting in the infirmary failed. The ship lurched, throwing him forward against the bed - he reached out to steady himself with a left hand he didn’t have - and Cody swore, hand suddenly on his arm, holding tight and steady as the ship came to a jerking stop.

“Are you alright?” Cody asked there in the dark, as the emergency lighting came on, tinging everything with red. His emotions had lashed free, briefly, as the ship shook around them, concern and worry and guilt and--

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing, resisting the urge to just lean into the touch. It had been...so long since anyone touched him with care, intentional kindness and concern. A selfish, needy part of him wanted to bask in it, but Cody hadn’t wanted to touch him, had been upset, and Obi-Wan wouldn’t take what he didn’t want to give.

The thought left the taste of vomit in his mouth. He shook his head. “I’ll go find out what’s happening, you stay--”

“Like kriffing hell,” Cody interrupted, and Obi-Wan would have protested further, but he didn’t have the energy for it. He stood, shivering a little - shocky, still, he knew - while Cody leveraged himself off of the mattress. 

And, together, limping, they went to find out what had happened.

[reylo-solo]

Rey is unable to sleep and so she tosses and turns before glancing at the broken saber on the old hologram game table. As if her sudden anger summoned him, he's suddenly there next to it, and asks rey what happened. For some reason, they can't block out the connection and so they're "forced" to either stare at each other or chat. Perhaps smut ensues?

Good prompt! I confess, I got kind of carried away with “the feels” on this one, so it’s not very smutty…but I hope you like it anyway! ~~~

           The blankets tangled around my feetas I flipped over onto my left side for the trillionth time in an hour.Frustrated and tired, I viciously kicked them off, successfully losing theblanket onto the floor in the process. I glared up at the ceiling of theFalcon, cursing my own brain for not shutting up and letting me sleep in peace.

           Sans blanket, I drew my knees up andsquished the pillow under my head. I tried, I really did, but my eyes would notstay closed. The black canvas of my eyelids did not once fade intounconsciousness. I gave up, then. I knew I was not getting to sleep tonight.

           I was being harassed by my ownthoughts! Well, one thought in particular. And it wasn’t so much of a true thoughtas it was a name, a face. Ben Solo. Kylo Ren. My enemy, or so I thought. Now Iwasn’t so sure. I often found myself wishing things could be so black andwhite. Wishing that I lived in a world where an enemy is only an enemy; aone-dimensional, static villain. Things would certainly be easier. I couldbypass the whole moral, emotional crisis part. But, that is not the way of thisworld. That is not the way of the Force. If it was meant to be easy, it wouldbe. The fact that it wasn’t warranted extra attention on my behalf.

           My eyes opened to a very physicalreminder of this inner conflict of mine. Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber, brokenclean in two, sitting atop the Dejarik game table. It glinted in the soft blueglow of lights in the cabin. Staring at it made me nervous for some reason. Ithink because now it wasn’t just a broken lightsaber. It was a symbol of hopeas much as it was a symbol of Ben and I. We were each other’s equals. Somatched in power that instead of pulling the lightsaber one way or another webroke it in half. I hated that. I hated the physical manifestation of thattruth. It forced me to stare it in the eye, to face it rather than go onignoring what I felt in my heart.

           I don’t know how many times I hadtried to convince myself to give up on Ben Solo over the last couple of days.How hard I worked to tarnish any good, decent thought I had ever allowed myselfto have about him. It had worked, for a short while. But then I remembered the desperationin his words; his pained expression as he asked me to join him. And Iremembered how, for only a second, I had nearly accepted. I had been about totake his hand, to sacrifice everything I stood for now, just because he askedit. My near mistake angered me even more. How could I be so weak? So foolish?

           Ben Solo was important, and he couldstill be saved. I was just on the fence about whether or not it had to be mewho saved him. I really didn’t think I was capable of it, not after he refusedto come with me. To me, that demonstrated his unwillingness to be saved. And Ithought, foolish as it is, that by literally closing a door in his face hewould take the hint that his chance at a future where he could maybe be happywas getting smaller, fast. But then I didn’t see him again right away. I didn’teven feel him out there in the vast reaches of space. I can’t lie, especiallynot to myself. I was disappointed that he didn’t come back to me. He didn’tfight for his own salvation. I found myself thinking about him, wondering whathe was doing out there. Even now, he plagued me. And I wanted so badly to bemad at him, nothing but angry, but I couldn’t.

           I sighed deeply and shut my eyestight, blocking out the saber and trying to block out any thought of Kylo alongwith it. It didn’t work. Minutes later I was still lying there on my side, myeyes squeezed shut, when a voice startled me into sitting up.

           “Rey?”

           Kylo stood, partially shrouded bydarkness, on the other side of the hologame table. I watched as his confusedeyes fell from me to the remnants of his grandfather’s lightsaber.

           “What are you doing here?” Isnapped, a little louder than I had intended.

           Kylo didn’t answer right away. Hepicked up half of the lightsaber as gently as if it was a baby bird, cradlingit in his gloved palm and appraising it with soft remorse.

           “You summoned me here,” he replieddistractedly. “Your anger called me.”

           I wanted to call him a liar, to tellhim he was making it up. But I knew it was true. The look on his face when hearrived was not the look of someone who meant to show up in my sleepingquarters. So I bit back my hurt feelings and stood up, taking a firm stancewith my feet spread apart and planted on the ground. He looked at me then,peering up from behind his messy dark hair. Slowly, he replaced the lightsaberon the table and straightened.

           “You’re mad at me.” He observedcoolly.

           The passivity in his voice lit afire within me. Of course I was mad at him! After all the horrible things hehad done, how could I not be? How did he even think it prudent to have to ask?

           “Good guess,” I grumbled, folding myarms across my chest.

           “Do you want to talk about it?” heasked, clearly poking fun at me. His eyes glinted with malicious humour.

           “Talking doesn’t seem to do any goodwith you,” I retorted. “Maybe I should give you another scar instead?”

           His lips toyed with a smirk. Onefinger traced the scar from his cheekbone to his jaw.

           “Would you?” he asked.

           I quirked an eyebrow, confused byhis silky tone. I could see in his face that he was trying to disarm me byusing some semblance of charm, but it wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t allow it. “Stop this,” I demanded. “I don’t want youhere. Just go.”

           “Can’t,” he responded simply. “OtherwiseI would.”

           “What do you mean you can’t?”

           “You try to break the connection. Goon, try it out.”

           I huffed but did as he suggested,working on closing the doors to my mind and shutting him out, like I had doneon the Falcon before. But when I opened my eyes after putting in what Iconsidered to be a firm effort, he was still there, looking at me with abemused expression.

           “What…?” I stammered, faltering atthe failure.

           “See? Told you. Can’t.”

           “That’s impossible…”

           “Is it? Think about it. You haven’tbeen able to sleep because you’ve had such a one-track mind. You toss and turnand still can’t get me out of your head…”

           “Literally or figuratively, it seems…”

           He strolled towards me, casual inhis approach, still choosing to keep a respectful distance. A smart move on hispart. One step closer and I may just stick a foot out and trip him. Just to bepetty. Just to watch his stupid face hit the floor.

           “You’re mad at me,” he repeated. “Why,exactly?”

           “Are you kidding me? Why not? Andwhy are you incessantly asking that? What is it you want to hear?”

           “Nothing in particular. But maybediscussing why I’m here will help end this torture. You can go back to sleepingand I can get on with business of my own.”

           “You’re suggesting an impromptutherapy session?”

           “If that’s how you want to look atit.”

           “Alright, fine.” I tapped my foot incessantlyas I spoke. “You killed your father. Your own father. Killed him like he wasnothing to you.”

           “He was nothing to me.”

           “Stop it. You know that’s a lie. Ican sense it in you. Killing your father only made things worse for you, didn’tit? You thought it would be some magical fix; a final act to cement yourposition on the Dark Side. But it wasn’t either of those things. It waspatricide, and it hurt you too.”

           Ben’s face was a clean, empty slate.He didn’t frown or smile. There was no twitch in his jaw or his eyes. He juststared at me and listened as I spoke, taking my verbal lashes in an annoyinglystoic fashion. Despite his calm façade, though, I saw the ring of truth withinhim. He knew I was right, and of course I was. I had seen it in him when we metin the hut on Ahch-To.

           “You were too stubborn to just comewith me,” I continued, a touch of personal bitterness seeping into my tone. “Youknew it was the right thing to do but you didn’t do it. You confused things.You’re not meant to be on the Dark Side, Ben. You’re meant to be here, with me.With your mother. I know it, and so do you. Yet you continue to deny it, goingso far as to ask me to join you. You think I would want to rule the galaxy withsomeone like you? Someone as spiteful and callous and childish as you…”

           “You see those traits in me becauseyou see them in yourself,” he commented. “You are not as pure and warm as youthink. I can see that little bit of darkness in you. And great potential, too…”

           “And I can see the light in you.More of it than you think. The difference between you and I is that I will notlet the darkness win over the light. I know which side is right for me becauseI’ve been allowed to make that decision for myself. You weren’t able to dothat. Don’t you see, Ben? Snoke twisted you up, made you think you’d never beanything if you weren’t his apprentice; if you didn’t have the Dark Side. Hemade you expect the worst in your family, and so that’s all you saw. He madeyour decision for you, but it’s not too late to reclaim that for yourself.”

           “Yes, it is. I’ve made my choice.”Ben hissed.

           “No! You’re not getting it! If you’djust come with me—”

           “But I didn’t!” he snapped. Hisvoice was harsh and loud in my ears. I flinched involuntarily. “Are you sofoolish as to think that things are so easy? That I could just come with you onmy father’s ship and everything would be okay again?”

           “No…but that’s not the point.”

           “Then what is?”

           “You didn’t chase after me when Ileft. You knew I was in the Falcon, of course you did. But you didn’t send TIEfighters after us or try and stop me. You let me go. Why would you do that ifyou didn’t stand a chance at being saved?”

           Kylo was quiet, his lips tighteninginto a firm line. I could tell he didn’t want to hear what I was saying to him,because it was true. Facing a long-denied truth can be extremely painful,especially for someone as closed-off as Kylo Ren. I know the pain, and I knewit well. I had long denied the truth about my parents being nobodies, and thetruth that they were never going to come back for me. It had harmed me ininvisible ways that I had not anticipated. It had left wounds that were stilltrying to heal. To think about them stung, but it also helped me move on.

           “That hesitation, that unwillingnessto hurt me…that is the point. That isyou showing your true colours; proving that you’re not completely gone. Ben,please…you know I can help you. There’s something here, between us. Somethingnew. You said it yourself: I’m a nobody, but not to you. I will not turn to theDark Side for you, but if you’d meet me in the middle of it all, we could putan end to this whole dreadful thing.”

           I extended a hand towards him. Itwas my turn to offer him a lifeline. He eyed it with a certain degree oflonging, watching as my fingers stretched closer to his. His gloved handwrapped around my wrist and pulled until the space between us was minimal. Icould feel the heat coming off of his body as if he was actually there. I couldsee his inner struggle in the way his jaw clenched and his lower lip trembled.Even his grip on my arm wasn’t as firm as it could have been.

           “Ben.”

           I used my other hand to touch hischeek. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to, but he instinctively leaned his face into mypalm. He shut his eyes tight and when he opened them again they were glassy andwet.

           Shaking his head, he begged me, “Don’t.Don’t do this to me…”

           I did not relent. He needed to feelthis pain. I needed his inner turmoil to break him completely, shattering thehard outer casing that was Kylo Ren to reveal Ben Solo within. I would do anythingto have him by my side. If it meant the fall of the First Order and a chance athappiness for all of us, I wanted it. It was this desire, this certainty that BenSolo was our only hope, which led me to do something so unlike anything I haveever done before. I reached up and kissed him gently, an impulse neither of ushad been counting on. I could feel him stiffen up at my touch, barely kissingme back. Just when I was about to step away, embarrassed, I felt the gentlepressure of him returning the gesture with unprecedented affection.

           I could almost hear it, the crack inhis dark and villainous façade. It echoed like ice breaking over a full body ofwater, fading into the very depths of his soul and awakening things that hadlong sat dormant within him.

           “Feel it,” I whisperedencouragingly. “Let yourself feel this pain. I know it hurts. I know you justwant it to stop, but you need toacknowledge it. I’m here, Ben. I’m going to help you.”

           Suddenly he was latching onto melike the world was ending, holding me closer than anyone has ever held mebefore. I could hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest; his breaths cameout in sharp, gasping bursts. His panic and confusion were almost overwhelming.But I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and I found the scared little boythat resided within him, and I extended my hand. I let my energy flow throughKylo until he stopped shaking so much. I looked up into his wide, frightenedeyes. The eyes of a boy, in the face of a man.

           “What is happening to me…?” he askedhelplessly, staring down at himself with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

           “You’re turning,” I said quietly,fascinated by the thought. “The Light is calling to you, bringing you homepiece by broken piece…”

           “No,” Kylo shook his head, directinghis pointed stare right at me now. “It’s you, doing this. It’s always been you.”

           “I wish I knew why,” I murmured,watching him carefully. “I think I’m beginning to understand but…I still havequestions.”

           He was looking at me the same way hedid back on Starkiller Base, when his grandfather’s lightsaber came to me, andagain when our fingers touched on Ahch-To. Wonder and curiosity, wrapped inconfusion. Heat rose to my face.

           “So do I,” he confessed.

           “Then we can answer them together!It’s just us, Ben. We’re meant to figure this out side-by-side, not lightyearsand a war apart. Just, come to me. Please. Come find me, Ben Solo, and you won’tever have to feel lost again.”

           My eyes fluttered closed, eager nowto kiss him again after doing it once. But when I leaned into him, his lipsweren’t there. I barely caught myself before falling into the empty spacebefore me. A shiver rattled my body. He was gone. My fingers delicately brushedagainst my lips in remembrance. I wasn’t disappointed by our separation thistime. I knew there was more to it.

           This was not the ending of ourstory, but rather the very beginning.