Title: Communication, Or Lack Thereof
Category: General, H/C
Characters: Obi-Wan, Anakin
Timeframe: Anakin is in his late teens/early 20's.
Summary: When Obi-Wan gets sick, it becomes clear that he and Anakin need to work on their communication with each other.
Disclaimer: I'm just playing with these characters, none of them are mine.
Author's Notes: This is my first piece of fan fiction ever, of any fandom or genre. It is a "warm-up" fic written mostly as a writing exercise for practicing character descriptions, actions, dialogue, etc. So, there's not much of a plot, just some semi-mushy Obi/Ani bonding. You have been warned!
"Master?" the sound of his Padawan's voice filtered into his consciousness from outside his bedroom door, jolting him out of a restless sleep. Rolling onto his back, he shut his eyes against the headache that seem to have sprung up between his temples overnight, and wished that the quiet but annoying rattling noise that seemed to be practically in his ears would stop . . .
Well, almost jolting him out of his sleep, anyway. "Master! We have a meeting with the council this morning, remember?" Anakin called loudly, a hint of impatience showing in his tone this time. Obi-Wan rolled over in bed to check his chrono, surprised to see that it was more than a half hour later than the time he usually woke.
"I'm awake, Padawan, thank you," Obi-Wan called in reply, surprised to hear that his voice was slightly hoarse. Slowly getting out of bed, he made his way over to the closet and hurriedly began to dress, not wanting to be late.
Hopefully, the council would have an off-planet assignment for them, as they had been on Coruscant for nearly three tenday. True, Jedi weren't supposed to get restless – especially in such a short amount of time, and it wasn't as if they'd been doing nothing all this time – but that didn't stop Anakin. Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh, knowing that his impetuous padawan was just itching to get off planet and into trouble. Or 'aggressive negotiations', as Anakin preferred to call it as of late. Fastening the final tie on his sash, Obi-Wan made his way out to the common area where Anakin was waiting for him. The boy; or rather, young man, Obi-Wan reminded himself, was perched on the edge of a chair near the door, and was nearly vibrating with energy.
"There you are Master! I was beginning to think that you were going to actually sleep late!" Anakin greeted his Master with a teasing grin.
"I doubt that I could if I tried, Padawan, with all that excitement you seem to be radiating." Privately, Obi-Wan figured he probably could have slept at least another hour though, which bothered him. He felt slightly muzzy still, as though he hadn't shaken off the last vestiges of sleep, though he knew that he should by all rights be fully rested and alert. It didn't seem worth worrying about though, so he pushed the matter to the back of his mind.
Striding over to the door, he turned to Anakin. "Come, Padawan, shall we go now?" Anakin had been right, they did need to hurry. He would have to grab something to eat later, which was fine by him. He wasn't really hungry, and was feeling vaguely queasy anyway.
"Yes, Master!" replied Anakin eagerly, springing out of the chair.
And there was that annoying rattling noise again, Obi-Wan noted as they headed out the door. This, he decided, was going to be a long day.
To Anakin's delight, and Obi-Wan's chagrin, the council had decided to assign a mission. More specifically, a solo mission, for Anakin. It was a short, fairly straightforward mission, simply picking up and escorting a Senator from a newly-admitted Republic planet to the upcoming Senate session on Coruscant. Anakin would be gone for less than two days, if things went smoothly. Still, Anakin seemed pleased just to get a mission that involved space travel, Obi-Wan noted with a small smile as watched his apprentice's transport lift off.
Turning to leave the launch bay, Obi-Wan stumbled as he was nearly overcome by a wave of dizziness, catching himself on the wall. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and made an effort to center himself. The dizziness passed, but there was that rattling noise again. Taking another deep breath before straightening, he realized that the rattling was coming from his chest.
A long day indeed, he thought, as he set out down the corridor.
Obi-Wan shivered as he sat, bereft of his tunic, on the edge of an examination table in the main section of the healer's wing. Since he'd noticed the rattling in his chest yesterday it had rapidly gotten worse, until he'd finally given into his body's complaints and visited the healers that morning, to the astonishment of every healer that he had encountered so far. Even worse, they seemed convinced that something must bedeathly wrong with him if he had come to them willingly, so they flitted about annoyingly and kept asking him if he needed anything. What he really wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep, but it wouldn't do for Healer Tirrel to come back and find him in such a state. True, he was feeling achy and tired and downright sick, never mind that he could barely breathe, but he still hoped to escape the healer's wing with some simple medication and a recommendation to rest.
This, sadly, was not to be. Healer Tirrel, a tall, dark-skinned humanoid, reappeared from behind one of the curtained off areas and regarded Obi-Wan with a small frown.
"Well, Master Kenobi, it appears that you've caught a particularly nasty strain of Rigellian Pneumocystis bacteria. Humanoids are normally vaccinated against this particular strain, but it appears that you are allergic, according to your record." he said, looking sympathetic. "There are a number of options . . . "
Throwing his travel pack into his room, Padawan Anakin Skywalker burst into the quarters he shared with his Master. Somewhat tired after dealing with an irate, nervous senator all day, he was glad to be finished with the short yet boring mission. Getting off planet always seemed like a great idea when he was bored in the Temple, Anakin noted wryly, but missions often weren't much better. He gracelessly dropped onto the sofa in the common area, noticing a split second too late the flashing light on the com unit that indicated that there was a message. Groaning softly at the prospect of getting up, he hauled himself off of the sofa and plopped into the chair by the com unit.
Skywalker: one new message
The screen displayed, and Anakin hit the play button, curious. He hardly ever got any messages that were only for him; they were usually either for Master Obi-Wan or for the both of them.
Anakin scanned the message with a growing sense of disbelief, which was rapidly turning to panic. Why would his master be in the healer's wing? Obi-Wan hated visiting the healer's, and if he was staying there he must be seriously ill, too ill to convalesce in their own quarters. His earlier thoughts of an afternoon of relaxation abandoned, Anakin bolted out of their quarters and took off for the healer's wing as fast as he could without making a spectacle of himself.
Finally nearing his destination, Anakin flew around the corner and nearly skidded to a halt in front of the healer's wing, taking a moment to slow himself down before he entered so as not to annoy the healers. That, he'd learned, was never a good idea. Walking up to the main desk with barely concealed anxiety, he felt his panic turn to fear as he quietly approached the main desk.
"I'm here about Master Kenobi, is he alright? Can I see him? I'm his Padawan, Anakin Skywalker," he said in a rush, only to be met with a gentle smile from the young healer at the desk.
"One moment please, Padawan Skywalker, I'll call Healer Tirrel in for you," she replied, fingers dancing nimbly over her com unit as she sent her message.
"Why don't you have a seat while you wait?" she suggested, directing the agitated padawan to a row of chairs.
Doubting that he could refrain from pacing, Anakin planted himself in one of the hard molded chairs and waited. And worried. His Master never got sick; in all his years as Obi-Wan's padawan, Anakin could count on one hand the number of times that his Master had fallen ill. And how could he have seriously injured himself at the Temple? Obi-Wan wasn't prone to accidents . . .
"Padawan Skywalker?" came the low tones of Healer Tirrel, snapping Anakin out of his thoughts. "Come with me." he said simply, beckoning Anakin to follow him down a corridor and into a curtained off waiting area.