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The sound of crashing waves echoed through the cavern, reverberating off jagged rock walls slick with moisture. The air was damp and salty, heavy with the scent of the ocean.
Anakin's arms stretched painfully above his head, the Force-suppressor cuffs bitting into his wrists. Cold seawater lapped at his boots, the tide slowly but inexorably creeping higher, each wave chilling his already numbed body. He could feel the rhythm of the water, each surge stealing another inch of ground from him.
Above him, Rex struggled against his restraints, his gloved hands scraping against the rough rock as he twisted his arms in an attempt to break free. His position, secured on slightly higher ground with simpler restraints, afforded him a view of the water steadily rising toward Anakin.
Each surge sent icy spray splattering against his face, a bitter reminder of how little time they had.
Their captors had left Anakin and Rex here to die, smug in the knowledge that the tide would do their work for them.
“Rex,” Anakin called, his voice strained but steady. “You’re wasting your strength.” He strained against the cuffs, his wrists raw where the metal bit into them, but it was no use. The Force was silent, locked away behind the suppressors, leaving him stranded—helpless—in a way that gnawed at his very core.
“I’m not leaving you like this, General,” Rex shot back, his tone sharp with frustration. He tugged again at the ropes binding his wrists, biting back a growl of pain. “Just—hang on. I’ll figure something out.”
Anakin huffed out a weak laugh, the sound more air than substance. His throat burned from the salt spray, every breath feeling like sandpaper scraping against his windpipe. “Hanging on isn’t the problem.”
Rex froze for a moment, his hands clenched into fists as he glared down at his Jedi. “This isn’t funny,” he said, his voice low and laced with an edge of desperation. “You’re soaked already. The water’s gonna—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening as he forced the thought from his mind. “We need to get out of here.”
“I know,” Anakin murmured. His head rested against the rock wall, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. “But panicking won’t help. Obi-Wan and the others are coming. They’ll find us in time.”
Rex didn’t respond. He wanted to believe it—needed to believe it—but the rising tide whispered otherwise. The water now covered Anakin’s boots entirely, swirling around his calves with each wave. It wasn’t moving fast, but it was relentless, creeping higher with each passing minute.
Anakin shivered, the cold sapping his strength with every surge of icy water. His tunic clung to him, soaked through, and he felt the cuffs digging deeper into his wrists as his body sagged against them. He lifted his head, forcing a weak smile. “I’ve been through worse, you know.”
“Stop that,” Rex snapped. “Stop pretending you’re fine.”
Anakin blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in Rex’s tone. The clone captain rarely raised his voice, and the raw emotion in his words cut through Anakin’s feigned nonchalance like a blade.
“You’re not fine, General,” Rex continued, his voice breaking slightly. “You’re chained to a wall with the ocean climbing up your legs, and I’m stuck up here watching it happen. So stop pretending.”
For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic crash of waves against the rocks. Anakin swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the damp air. “I don’t want you to worry,” he admitted quietly.
“I’m already worried!” Rex barked, pulling furiously at his ropes again. His gloves scraped against the stone, leaving his wrists raw. “You think I can just sit here and watch this? Kriffing—these blasted ropes—”
Another wave, bigger this time, surged into the cave, hitting Anakin square in the chest. He gasped at the shock of the cold, sputtering as seawater splashed into his mouth. His arms strained against the cuffs, his boots slipping on the slick rock as he fought to keep his balance.
“General!” Rex’s voice was panicked now.
Anakin coughed, shaking his head to clear the water from his eyes. “I'm fine,” he rasped, though the violent shivering in his body betrayed him.
“You’re not,” Rex growled. He scanned the cave desperately, his sharp soldier’s eyes searching for anything—anything—that could help. The rock was smooth and bare, offering no leverage. The ropes holding him were taut, knotted expertly. He was out of options, and the helplessness burned like acid in his chest.
The water climbed higher, now lapping at Anakin’s hips. The waves grew stronger, slamming against him with enough force to make his arms jerk in their restraints. He grimaced, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
“Sir,” Rex said, his voice quieter now, but no less urgent. “You have to hold on. Just a little longer. They’ll come.”
Anakin lifted his head, his blue eyes meeting Rex’s. There was fear in them—genuine, unguarded fear—and it sent a jolt through Rex’s chest. Anakin Skywalker wasn’t supposed to look like that. He wasn’t supposed to look beaten.
“I know,” Anakin whispered. “I trust Obi-Wan. He’ll find us. But … if he doesn’t, Rex—”
“Don’t,” Rex interrupted, his voice firm. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
Anakin closed his eyes, the waves battering against him in an unrelenting rhythm, each one sapping a little more of his strength. The cold was bone-deep now, radiating from the water and settling into his core like a parasite that wouldn’t let go.
He could feel the sluggish pull of his muscles, the way his body trembled against the restraints. Each breath came shallower than the last, his chest tightening with the effort.
This is how it ends.
The thought whispered in the back of his mind, insidious and unwanted. He tried to push it away, to focus on anything else—the sound of Rex’s voice, the faint hope that Obi-Wan would find them—but the rising tide was louder than any reassurance. He gritted his teeth, forcing his mind to focus, to stay sharp, but it was getting harder with each passing second.
“Rex,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the roar of the tide. His lips felt numb, his throat raw from salt and strain. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop it!” Rex shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. The sharpness of it cut through the haze in Anakin’s mind, anchoring him for a fleeting moment. “You’re not giving up. Do you hear me? You’re General kriffing Skywalker. You don’t get to quit.”
The salt water now reached his ribs, numbing his body with its icy touch.
Rex strained against his restraints, his teeth gritted in frustration. His arms ached from pulling against the ropes binding him to the rock. His wrists were raw now, blood mingling with the spray of the tide, but he refused to stop. Not while Anakin was still below him, bound and helpless, the water rising ever closer to his neck.
Anakin stirred slightly, his head lifting just enough to meet Rex’s gaze. His eyes were dull, the vibrant blue dimmed by exhaustion and cold. “Rex,” he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the crashing waves. “Maybe they’re not coming.”
Rex froze, his chest tightening as if the air had been sucked from the cavern. “What?” he barked, his voice sharp and edged with panic.
“They’re not coming,” Anakin repeated, louder this time but no less broken. He let his head fall back against the rock, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. “Maybe Obi-Wan … maybe the others …” He trailed off, his voice cracking. “Maybe it’s too late.”
The words felt like admitting defeat, and Anakin hated himself for saying them aloud. But the rising water, the cold that gnawed at his body, the weight of failure—it was all too much. He couldn’t help but let the thought slip free.
“Stop it,” Rex snapped, his voice like a whip. “Don’t you dare start thinking like that.”
Anakin gave a weak, humorless laugh, his breath hitching as a wave splashed over his chest. “Just being realistic, Captain,” he said bitterly. “The ocean doesn’t stop for anyone. Not even a Jedi.”
“Shut up!” Rex shouted, his voice cracking with raw emotion. “You hear me? Shut up, General. They’re coming.”
Anakin didn’t respond, his eyes drifting closed as the cold continued to seep into his bones. The water crept higher, brushing the base of his neck now, and he shivered uncontrollably, his body trembling against the restraints. He swallowed down the panic that rose like the water, trying to focus on his breathing, on the faint sound of Rex’s voice.
Rex’s panic flared into outright desperation. He yanked at his ropes with renewed force, ignoring the sharp pain in his wrists and the warm trickle of blood running down his arms. “I’m not letting this happen,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Not like this.”
His eyes darted to his boot knife, still strapped to his ankle. Twisting his body awkwardly, he tried to reach it, his fingers brushing the hilt but failing to grip it. He cursed under his breath, his movements frantic as he strained against his bonds.
“Rex,” Anakin’s voice came again, weak and halting. “Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I don’t care!” Rex barked, his tone fierce. “You think I’m just gonna sit here and watch you drown? Not a chance.”
Another wave crashed into the cave, this one reaching Anakin’s chin. He sputtered, choking on seawater as he lifted his head as high as he could. His breathing was labored now, every inhale shallow and uneven. “You need to … save your strength,” he whispered. “If they don’t make it in time, you’ll need to—”
“I’ll need to what?” Rex interrupted, his voice rising in anger and fear. “Watch you die? That’s not happening. Not today, not ever.”
Anakin’s eyes flickered open, glassy and unfocused. He stared at Rex, his mouth opening to say something, but another wave surged in, silencing him. The water covered his mouth, forcing him to tilt his head back against the rock. His chest heaved as he struggled to keep breathing, his arms straining weakly against the Force-suppressor cuffs that held him in place.
It’s too much. It’s too fast.
The thought raced through his mind, frantic and uncontrollable. He tried to focus, tried to steady his breathing, but the water wouldn’t stop.
“Hold on, General! Just hold on!” Rex’s voice rang out above him, frantic and strained. Anakin glanced up, his vision blurred by the salt spray, and saw Rex twisting and pulling at his own restraints, his face a mask of frustration and fear.
“I’m trying,” Anakin murmured, though his voice was barely audible over the roar of the tide. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his body trembling from the cold. The Force was silent, locked away behind the suppressor cuffs digging into his wrists, leaving him with nothing but his own will to fight. And that will was waning.
The tide rose higher, the water now lapping at Anakin’s ears. Each wave forced him to hold his breath, his head tilted as far back as it could go.
Rex’s hands were trembling, blood dripping from his fingers as he wrenched at the ropes, his teeth clenched against the pain.
Stay calm, he told himself, his mind racing. Don’t panic. Don’t—
“Blast it, Skywalker!” Rex yelled, his voice breaking. "Keep your head up."
Anakin forced his head higher, realizing with a jolt that he’d let it fall forward. He coughed weakly, seawater spilling from his lips, his chest heaving.
He sucked in a deep breath, holding it as another wave rolled over him. The cold was everywhere now, seeping into his bones, making his muscles sluggish. He twisted his wrists, trying to pull free of the cuffs, but they held fast. His lungs burned, his body screaming for air as the water surged back, allowing him a brief moment to gasp.
“Stay with me!” Rex’s voice cut through the chaos, fierce and commanding. “General—Anakin—"
Then the final wave hit, and the water surged over his head.
Everything went silent.
Anakin’s world narrowed to the icy darkness around him, the muffled roar of the tide filling his ears. He held his breath, his lungs straining, his chest aching with the effort. His body screamed at him to inhale, to take in the air that wasn’t there, but he clenched his jaw and forced himself to wait.
Just a little longer. They’ll come. Obi-Wan will come.
But the seconds stretched on, and no one came. The pain in his chest grew unbearable, a burning, searing ache that spread through his entire body. His vision blurred, and his thoughts began to fragment, breaking apart under the weight of the suffocating water.
Not like this. Not now.
Shit—
Instinct took over.
His mouth opened in a desperate gasp, and the water flooded in.
It hit his lungs like fire, sharp and burning, as his body convulsed violently. He thrashed against the cuffs, his legs kicking uselessly as his chest heaved, trying to expel the water. But it was too late. The cold liquid filled him, stealing the last of his strength.
Panic flared, white-hot and all-consuming, but it was fleeting. The fight drained from him as his body went still, the ache in his chest fading to a dull throb.
The darkness around him deepened, pressing in on all sides, and his thoughts grew quieter, slower, until there was nothing left but the cold.
Pain.
There was pain.
It hit him all at once, sharp and searing, like fire rushing into frozen lungs. His chest heaved violently, muscles convulsing against an overwhelming force.
His body felt foreign, stiff and unyielding, as though he were trying to move through thick, clinging mud. A crushing weight pressed down on his ribs, forcing him to gasp for something he couldn’t quite reach.
The void cracked, light spilling through in fractured, blinding shards. Voices—low, urgent—reached him, but the words were twisted, distorted, slipping past his grasp. His ears rang, the sound hollow and endless, drowning out everything else.
Another jolt of pain racked his chest, and this time, his body rebelled.
Water spilled from his mouth in a violent rush, salt burning his throat and nose as he coughed uncontrollably. His lungs screamed as air scraped its way back in, the sensation raw and jagged. He gagged, choking, his body convulsing against the overwhelming chaos of it all.
The light grew brighter, too bright, and he squeezed his eyes shut against it. Shadows flickered at the edges of his awareness, moving shapes that felt both familiar and alien.
The voices grew louder, closer, overlapping in a cacophony of sound. He wanted to speak, to ask where he was, to make it all stop, but his throat was raw, his lips cracked and trembling. All he could manage was a faint, broken noise.
Hands gripped his shoulders, firm but grounding. The touch sent a shock through him, pulling him further from the void. He flinched at the contact, his instincts screaming danger, but the hands didn’t let go. They steadied him, held him in place as his body spasmed with every desperate breath.
"General!"
The voice broke through the haze, sharp and familiar, cutting through the noise like a beacon. He knew that voice. He clung to it, reaching for it like a lifeline.
“Stay with me! You’re alright—just breathe!”
He gasped again, the air tearing its way into his lungs, leaving him coughing and shuddering. The light faded slightly, the shadows resolving into shapes, into faces.
One face hovered closest, blurry but unmistakable—Rex. His brow was furrowed, his jaw tight, his eyes wide with something that looked like relief and terror all at once.
“Rex,” Anakin croaked, though it sounded more like a rasp, barely a whisper. The effort sent another wave of coughing through him, his body still trying to expel the water that clung to his lungs like a vice.
“You’re okay, General,” Rex said, his voice low but firm, though it trembled just enough to betray him.
The ache in his chest was still there, sharp and unrelenting, and his body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion so profound it threatened to pull him back under. But he could breathe, and the air, ragged and painful as it was, felt like fire and life all at once.
Other voices joined Rex’s now, breaking through the haze in fragments, half-heard and disjointed, like echoes in a dream.
“Too much water—Force, how did he—”
“Keep him on his side!”
That was Kix, sharp and clinical, but tinged with urgency.
“Anakin, you're okay.”
That was Obi-Wan, his tone sharp but trembling at the edges.
“He needs warmth. Blanket, now.” Kix again, his words cutting through like a scalpel.
The words washed over Anakin, fragmented and disjointed, blending into the overwhelming sensations flooding his body. He felt hands moving around him—steadying him, tilting him slightly onto his side, pressing against his chest. Each touch sent shocks of sensation through his sluggish nerves, grounding him but overwhelming him at the same time.
His eyes fluttered shut again, unable to fight the exhaustion that pressed down on him like the weight of the ocean. He felt something warm drape over him—a blanket?—and another pair of hands, gentler this time, brushing damp hair from his forehead.
“… breathing is stabilizing. Kriff, he's freezing,” Kix’s voice cut through again, though it sounded farther away now. “Someone get me more blankets—now!”
“Come on, General,” Rex said again, his voice softer now, but still urgent, still raw. “Look at me. Open your eyes."
Anakin tried. He forced his eyelids to flutter open, the effort monumental. The light stabbed at his eyes, searing and relentless, but through the blur, he saw Rex’s face. His captain’s pale, grimy features hovered above him, caught somewhere between relief and anguish, his expression tightening as their gazes met.
“Good,” Rex said, nodding quickly. “That’s good. You’re still here.”
Still here.
The words echoed faintly in Anakin’s mind, disconnected and hollow. His chest hitched again, and he groaned as another cough tore through him. The hands around him steadied him, grounding him as the world swayed and shifted.
“Obi-Wan,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. His lips felt cracked and dry, the words scraping against his throat. “Is everyone … okay?”
A pause, a breath. “We’re fine, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied softly, though his voice trembled with something unspoken. “You’re the one we were worried about.”
“Rest,” someone said—Rex? Obi-Wan? Kix? The word blurred, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Rest.
The suggestion hung in the air, tempting and warm. But the memory of the water, of the suffocating cold and crushing weight, clung to him like a shadow, pulling him back into the haze.
_____
It was near midnight when Anakin stirred for the first time. His fingers twitched faintly against the sheets, their warmth a stark contrast to the icy water he still felt lapping at his skin in his mind. A soft, shallow groan escaped his lips, rasping against his raw throat.
His chest rose with a deeper breath, and the sensation of air filling his lungs—clean, unhindered air—hit him like a tidal wave. For a moment, the breath caught in his throat, and he almost sobbed it back out.
He was alive.
Somewhere in the haze of his mind, fragmented memories of cold water and suffocating darkness surfaced, sharp and vivid. He could still feel the phantom weight of the tide pressing down on him, the ache of his lungs screaming for air that wouldn’t come. But now, there was air. He took another shuddering breath, almost afraid it would be ripped away again.
“Anakin.”
His head turned, the nasal cannula tugging slightly against his skin as he lolled slightly against the pillow, his unfocused gaze landing on Obi-Wan sitting nearby.
His former master looked worn, his usually pristine robes wrinkled, his beard unkempt. But it was the expression on Obi-Wan’s face that struck Anakin the most—an emotion caught between relief and guilt, etched deeply into the lines around his eyes.
Anakin swallowed hard, his throat raw and burning as though it were still full of salt water. He tried to speak, but the words stuck, his voice barely a rasp. He forced it out anyway. “’S Rex?” he croaked, his words scraping painfully against his throat.
The effort set off a weak, wet cough that rattled in his chest, the sound deep and hollow. He grimaced, his lungs rebelling against even that small action.
Shit, he sounded horrible.
Obi-Wan leaned forward, relief softening his features, but there was still a tension in his posture, a weight pressing down on his shoulders. His eyes flicked briefly to Anakin’s hands, which were trembling faintly against the blanket, and to his lips, which still held a faint bluish tint that no amount of warming seemed to completely erase.
“He’s here,” Obi-Wan said gently, his voice low and steady. “He hasn’t left your side.”
Anakin blinked sluggishly, his brows furrowing as he tried to process the words. His head turned slightly, and there he was—Rex, sitting slumped in a chair on the other side of the bed. His armor was streaked with grime, his face pale and lined with exhaustion. His helmet sat at his feet, forgotten, as if he’d simply dropped it there and hadn’t bothered to pick it up.
“Rex,” Anakin rasped, managing to get the name out a little clearer this time, though it sent a dull ache through his chest. His voice cracked and faltered, triggering another cough that shook his frame and left him shivering harder beneath the stack of blankets covering him.
Rex’s head snapped up the moment he realized Anakin was awake, his sharp eyes locking onto him. He looked like he was about to speak but stopped himself, his jaw tightening. Instead, he just stared, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he moved closer. He didn’t sit again, didn’t say anything right away, just hovered near the edge of the bed like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the tension in his frame almost vibrating.
Anakin’s blurry gaze caught on the bandages wrapped around Rex’s wrists, the edges stained faintly with crimson. His eyes drifted lower, noting faint trails of dried blood streaking Rex’s armor, the crimson contrasting sharply against the dull white. The sight struck Anakin with a pang of guilt.
“You’re awake,” Rex said finally, his voice low and gruff, but it trembled slightly. “You’re—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply as he looked away for a moment, like he was trying to pull himself together. “You’re alright.”
Anakin’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though it felt weak and foreign on his face. “Sounds like … you weren’t so sure.” He shifted slightly, the movement sluggish and uncoordinated, his body weighed down by exhaustion.
Rex’s jaw tightened, and he looked back at Anakin with an intensity that made his chest tighten. “I wasn’t,” Rex admitted quietly. “Not after what happened down there. I thought—” He stopped again, swallowing hard. “You almost didn’t make it, General.”
Anakin blinked, the words sinking in, though his mind still felt sluggish and fogged, like the water had seeped into his thoughts and refused to drain. He wasn’t used to seeing Rex like this—raw, unguarded, his usual stoicism cracked wide open. And it hit him then, how much his captain must have been holding together while everything was falling apart.
“I’m … sorry,” Anakin murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could manage.
Rex shook his head sharply. “Don’t,” he said firmly, though his voice softened almost immediately. “Don’t apologize. You fought, General. You made it out. That’s all that matters.”
Obi-Wan, who had been silent, spoke again, his voice quiet but carrying the same weight it always did. “Rex hasn’t left this room since we brought you in,” he said, glancing at the captain. “I’ve tried to convince him to rest, but he’s rather … stubborn.”
Rex let out a soft huff, his lips pressing into a thin, almost defensive line. “Couldn't,” he muttered, his voice rough with fatigue. His gaze flicked down briefly before returning to Anakin. “Not while you were still—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply, his hands flexing at his sides.
Anakin shifted, the movement slow and painful, but enough to draw Rex’s full attention. The weight of the blankets made him feel heavy, anchored, and yet he couldn’t stop the shivers that wracked his body. His muscles felt weak, every part of him trembling faintly as though his body wasn’t entirely his own anymore. “I’m alright,” Anakin said, though the words sounded as strained as he felt. “Really.”
“Sure you are,” Rex said, his tone flat, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “And I suppose you’re ready to hop out of this bed and take on a battalion of clankers too?”
“Give me a day,” Anakin rasped, managing a faint grin that quickly dissolved into another wet, rattling cough.
Rex snorted, and for a moment, the weight in the room lifted just slightly. But the tension lingered, unspoken and heavy, like a shadow neither of them could shake. Anakin could see it in their faces—in the tight set of Rex’s jaw, the way Obi-Wan’s shoulders sagged even as he tried to mask it.
“I scared you,” Anakin said after a moment, the realization hitting him like a wave.
Rex didn’t deny it. He just looked at him, his expression hardening slightly, though it wasn’t anger. “Yeah,” he said finally. “You did.”
Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, his touch firm but gentle. “But you’re here, Anakin. And that’s what matters. You survived.”
The words were meant to comfort, but they didn’t ease the weight pressing down on Anakin’s chest. He closed his eyes briefly, the memory of the water submerging him still fresh, the suffocating cold lingering like a phantom. He forced himself to take a slow, shaky breath, focusing on the feeling of air filling his lungs.