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“Master, he’s hurt bad.”
“I know, Ahsoka. Here, help me get him up on my shoulders.”
Anakin’s Padawan did as instructed, and he grunted under the weight of Obi-Wan. They’d been taken by surprise during their current mission on Byss, and now, with the apex of the planet being between its two suns Byss and Abyss approaching, they were in danger. After Obi-Wan had sustained severe injuries, the Separatists had retreated. They knew the Burning was coming. As did the animals of the planet the one-eyed Abyssin.
It’d taken almost an hour to get Obi-Wan out from under the rubble of a collapsed stone structure, and now, covered in dust, and sweat, Anakin and Ahsoka were moving as fast as they could back to the ship.
The Republic hadn’t originally wanted them to attempt such a mission since this was one of the Outer Rim territories, but in recent rotations it’d been heavily contested, and with a new burst of slavery on the planet, there was increased production of arms for the Separatists. It had finally been seen as important. And while Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka had managed to free some slaves, and destroy a Separatist base, their stealth had been for naught. Somehow, the enemy had known they were coming.
“Master, it’s getting hotter!” Ahsoka warned.
Already the air was sizzling, seeming to burn in Anakin’s lungs. What little skin he had exposed felt as if it was reddening, blistering. Through the Force came Ahsoka’s pain, her skin more exposed than his. Robes wet with sweat that dried almost as quickly as it was produced, they tried to run. The light was blinding, a pure gold-white that had Anakin squinting his eyes.
Kriff, if there was only some shade.
No. Keep going. Keep going.
They reached the ship, and R2 helped them get off the planet.
Anakin barely thought as he carried Obi-Wan to the medical bay. There, he began to assess his wounds. He reached out with the Force, sensing that he was still alive, but the possibilities of his future were slowly fading.
“Will he be okay?” Ahsoka asked, voice tight with worry.
There was a jolt as they shifted into hyperspace, but Anakin ignored it, and then said to her, “Get two doses of symoxin ready.”
“Two?”
Anakin hooked up Obi-Wan to a machine that would give his surely-battered lungs oxygen, and then he began to pull at his master’s robes and tunic, and press lightly. Obi-Wan winced as Anakin applied pressure on his lower abdomen. Lower still, he groaned. When it came to his legs, he cried out, face a mask of pain, and still, he remained unconscious.
“Yes. He’s in a lot of pain.”
Anakin paid a great deal of attention with assessing his abdomen. It was beginning to turn a mix of dark colors.
“Blast, he has internal bleeding. Snips, where’s that symoxin!”
She came over, and gave Obi-Wan the injections into the burned skin of his neck.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“Uh…”
Think, Anakin. Think.
He’d had the training for this. Not for extreme medical care, of course, but field medicine, alright. It was necessary for becoming a general in the Republic army.
Pulse racing, skin feeling as if each movement was forcing it to slowly peel off, he managed to tear his eyes away from his severely injured master, and looked around. Finally, amidst the white room, and the supplies, he saw what could help.
“Snips, get those boxes. We’ll put them under his legs, and keep them up.”
Even with his master surely having some breaks in his legs he had to do this. The broken bones were easily putting his body into shock, and the pain would be unbearable, even with the symoxin, but if he didn’t at least do something to deal with the abdominal bleeding, he could die.
Anakin pressed at his comm link. “Artoo, what’s our ETA for Coruscant?”
Beeps sounded through the device, and Anakin growled. “That’s not good enough! Okay, how far are we from a Republic med station?”
More beeps.
“Good. Get us there as fast as you can. Obi-Wan’s got internal bleeding.”
A shrill whistle sounded.
Anakin and Ahsoka managed to lift Obi-Wan’s legs, and he had to lash them into place while also adding makeshift splints. It wasn’t perfect, but keeping his legs elevated was the most important thing he could. He just hoped he hadn’t jostled any bones or shards of bone too much. Even while being as gentle as they could, Obi-Wan had cried out in his unconsciousness.
Now, his breathing was heavy, forced, and he was clenching his teeth.
But with nothing else to do for the bleeding, Anakin and Ahsoka took to slathering him with bacta gel, hoping to soothe his reddened, peeling skin. Anakin’s own skin was flaking off in places, the burns worse than any sunburn on Tatooine, but still he worked.
As he put the gel on his master’s skin, Obi-Wan shifted, tried to fight, but that led to more pain, and him screaming. Tears streaked his cheeks.
“Do you think he knows what’s happening to him?” Ahsoka asked.
“I hope not. I don’t want him to remember any of this pain.”
With Obi-Wan finally out of immediate danger, he and Ahsoka used what was left of the bacta gel.
“Alright, how you doin’, Snips?”
She gave him a small smile, and a teasing light was in her blue-gold eyes.
“I’m fine, Master. I’m more worried about you.”
“And I’m worried about, Obi-Wan.”
Ahsoka reached to put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, but winced, and then thought better of it. “He’ll be okay. Thanks to you.”
Anakin nodded.
“I’ll go check on Artoo. Let me know if you need help back here.”
As she left, the ship’s steady course faltered a bit, and Anakin had to put his arms around Obi-Wan to steady him. He screamed, and then twisted his head and buried his face in Anakin’s chest.
Finally, the pain he felt through their force connection was beginning to fade, the medicine kicking in.
“You’ll be just fine, Master.”