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The piercing pain made it difficult to think straight. Dueling with the frenzied zabraks had left him with more wounds than usual, and his getaway shuttle offered no medical supplies.
A quick holosearch of the nearby systems made it clear that there was only one plausible option. Their last encounter may have ended on a less than ideal note, but if he ever knew her, she wouldn’t deny him medical care.
He tried to call her in advance, but she did not answer, and so he typed out a short message to her. That simple task alone took him several minutes, because his movements were slow and painful. He was certain he had a few fractured bones, most likely more bruises than he could count, and the yellow zabrak’s lightsaber had burned off a good chunk of skin on his forearm. And, as if all this wasn’t enough, his face also felt terribly sore from the punches.
He struggled to keep his eyes open, but he knew that letting himself rest in that moment could be fatal. He opted for a light meditation instead, but it was nearly impossible to concentrate through the pain. Even breathing was becoming exhausting.
The ringing sound of his comlink forced him to return to his surroundings, and he used the Force to press the button to accept the call, in order to avoid moving any more than absolutely necessary.
The familiar, sightly face that came to view did bring him some momentary relief, though having to explain his situation to her would likely be most troublesome.
“Whatever happened to you?” the duchess asked, visibly concerned, as soon as she saw him.
“Long story. What matters is… I doubt I can make it back to Coruscant before these injuries knock me out, and I’m only an hour away from Mandalore. You wouldn’t happen to have any bacta tanks in the palace, would you?”
“Even if not, there’s plenty in the hospitals. But I believe there is a bacta tank in the healer’s room. I shall have it prepared.”
Obi-Wan tried for a smile, but the muscles of his face were too strained, and probably swollen as well.
“Thank you, Satine.”
“You’re welcome. I will be expecting some answers once you feel better, though.”
“Of course. I would expect nothing less.”
“I’ll see you soon, then?”
“I hope so.”
The rest of the journey was a blur. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why his mind had gotten so hazy. He had survived worse injuries, but maybe his head had decided to put him through a long-due concussion. Or perhaps he was just overreacting. He should be fine.
At last, he arrived at the Mandalore system, and after what seemed like a decade he docked in the platform of Sundari. The guards didn’t give him trouble since Satine had messaged him a code that would allow him to enter freely on her behalf.
He received quite a few strange looks while making his way to the palace, but that was the least of his problems. By the time he made it to the throne room, his mind was ringing, his whole body felt as if it was burning and he was about to collapse on the floor. Luckily, Satine was awaiting, and she rushed to his side.
“Ben,” she whispered as she reached for his cheek. “Manda’ner, you’re burning! You’ve got fever and, oh dear, you look terrible.”
“You’ve never looked better,” he muttered groggily.
“Oh, quit the flattery and let’s get you some medicine. Come on, this way.”
She tried to steady him as he walked, but he shook his head, a motion which he immediately regretted as his pain doubled and his vision almost abandoned him.
“Don’t,” he told her. “You’ll get your clothes dirty.”
“You think I care? I’ve got hundreds of these dresses! Let me help you.”
And so he did. He placed his arm over her shoulders and let her lead him to the healer’s room. When they arrived, a bacta tank was awaiting him, with its lid open in invitation.
“Get in,” Satine instructed as she pressed a few buttons on the tank’s control panel.
“Wait, you’re the one operating this?” he asked. “Isn’t there a healer, or-“
“She’s away on sick leave, but I do know how to use it. You’ll just have to trust me.”
And just like that, the exhaustingly restless mind of Obi-Wan Kenobi ended up well and utterly blank. With a bit of help he took off his robe, leaving on only his under tunic, and let Satine place an oxygen mask on his face before helping him lie down in the tub and closing the lid.
He was finally safe. He could close his eyes, assured that there was a chance of waking up again.
•———•———•
“Satine? Are you listening?”
The voice of her handmaiden, Lat’iya, pulled Satine from her thoughts.
“Oh, apologies, my mind must have wandered,” the duchess replied. “What were you saying?”
The girl smiled and shook her head lightly.
“Nothing important. You should go get some rest. It’s quite late.”
“You’re right, I should,” Satine muttered.
She left the room and walked to her chambers to retire for the night. But sleep didn’t come easy, and in her mind swirled constant worry about the man who was sleeping submerged in bacta two floors below her.
It had been over a year since their last encounter, when she had successfully managed to prevent a republic occupation of her planet. They had agreed to meet up the next day, but the situation back on Mandalore had required her presence to calm the uncertainty of the crowds after the death watch crisis. And so she had departed earlier, leaving Obi-Wan with only a short message of excuses and apologies.
They had not spoken since. And although she was glad to see him -he would always be a dear friend of hers, even though their political disagreements could render them enemies, even though their hearts wanted more- it had been a terrible shock to see him in such condition.
His left cheek bore a nasty bruise which was visible even underneath his beard, and he had clearly been struggling to keep himself standing. But those injuries were curable. What concerned her even more, was the more permanent marks the hardships had left on him. His cheekbones were hollowed, and the skin under his eyes was far darker than it should be. He wasn’t doing well. The war was ruining him, and he would never admit it until he’d dropped dead.
The next morning she only visited him for a few minutes, to check that he was breathing and hopefully healing, before begining another long day of meetings, political plans, and too many people making her job ten times more difficult than it needed to be.
It wasn’t until the evening that she had time to actually care for him. It had been a full rotation since he arrived, and she knew that he shouldn’t be left unchecked for more than that. So she made her way to the room and carefully closed the door behind her before working on the controls of the tank. She nudged Obi-Wan awake and tried to hold him in place when he jolted up, utter confusion written on his face.
Satine removed his oxygen mask, and he held tight onto her arms. His breathing began to steady as he took in his surroundings, and he let go of her hands, looking down, almost ashamed.
“Apologies,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from spending too long in silence.
“How are you feeling?”
After several more deep breaths, Obi-Wan finally met her eyes.
“Better than yesterday.”
“Well, I should hope so. Are you feeling well?”
He hesitated, which was an answer on its own.
“Saying I feel well would be a stretch, but I am no longer in piercing pain, which is most definitely an improvement. In fact, I barely feel any of yesterday’s pain. That must have been pure bacta in there.”
“Of course it is. We only have top quality medical equipment on Mandalore. Health is not something we should take risks with. Which reminds me, I had the med droid run some tests on you. You are malnourished and terribly dehydrated. You need rest and some proper nutrition.”
But she could tell he wasn’t taking her seriously. In fact, he appeared almost amused by her words.
“Satine… I really appreciate your help, but I am fine. I should return to Coruscant as soon as possible, and-“
“I’ve already had a room prepared for you. You will at least spend the night, get a proper meal and a good night’s sleep before we even discuss your departure.”
“What- Satine, I’m not your hostage!”
“Trust me, no hostage of mine would have as good a time as you will.”
She probably shouldn’t have said that, but she responded to his raised eyebrow with a confident smile. At last, he relented and stepped out of the tank.
He was drenched in bacta, and his only dry clothing was the dark brown robe that served as an outer layer for his outfit. Satine turned around to give him some privacy, though there were many times in their past when she had seen him without an inch of clothing. Alas, their current fractured relationship had no room for such thoughts, and so she awaited patiently for him to change.
Once he was ready, she led him outside and to the guest room which had been prepared for him. He held her hand along the way, and she run her thumb over his knuckles.
“Here we are,” she announced. “I still have some business to attend, so in the meantime take a shower and lie down for a bit. I shall visit you before dinner.”
She turned to leave, but he didn’t let go of her hand. When she looked at him for an explanation, his eyes reminded her of a pleading puppy. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it, causing her heart to skitter. Hundreds of men had kissed her hand during her many years as a duchess, and yet only Obi-Wan’s lips had that effect on her.
He entered his room without another word, leaving her feeling as if she had plunged back in time and was once more a lovesick eighteen-year-old trying to ignore her crush on this ridiculously charming redheaded man.
•———•———•
A warm shower later, Obi-Wan tried on the set of silk pajamas that had been placed on the bed. The fabric was unfathomably soft, and he was reminded of why the Jedi were always warned to avoid luxuries. Why would anyone wear anything else if such fabrics were an option?
The bed was also very comfortable, and Obi-Wan sat atop the bedsheets and decided to meditate as he waited for Satine. It wasn’t long before a knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts and the duchess walked in. He rushed to get up, but Satine shook her head.
“There’s no need to get out of bed,” she reassured him. “You need rest. Would you like me to leave?”
“Oh no, duchess, your presence is always a pleasure.”
Her bright smile made his heart melt. She approached him and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup his cheek. He instinctively leaned into her touch, having missed her affection more than he would ever admit.
“How did you get wounded so badly?” she inquired.
Obi-Wan sighed. He would rather not discuss it, but then again Satine was probably the best person to have this conversation with.
“It’s a long story. You might want to get comfortable for that.”
He scooted over, making room for her in the bed, and she didn’t do a very good job at hiding her giddy smile as she kicked off her shoes and jumped up next to him. He reached for her hand, and looked down at their intertwined fingers. A simple sight, and yet it gave him the strength to speak.
“A great terror has returned to the galaxy. One we believed to be dead. The Sith Lord who killed Master Qui-Gon is back. And, not only is he still evil, but he is also devoid of sanity and accompanied by a stronger, possibly crazier brother of his. And… let’s just say I was recently in the receiving end of their madness.”
“Oh, cyare…”
He had missed this word, spoken so softly from her lips.
“But still,” she muttered. “That doesn’t explain the results of your blood test. Clinical malnutrition, Ben! How long did those monsters keep you prisoner?”
“Oh, no, that’s… not a recent thing. There just no time to care for proper nutrition during a war. I’m surviving on caf and whatever ration bars are available. Mostly caf.”
She gave him an unimpressed glare and raised an eyebrow at him. He expected a lecture to follow, but she simply stared at him in silence.
“What?” he asked defensively.
“You need to take care of yourself, Ben! You’ll be no good to your order or the galaxy if you pass out in the middle of battle!”
She did have a point, but he wasn’t going to admit that.
“If I’m being honest, Satine, I never have the strength for anything after the exhaustion of battles. A few shots of caf when I need energy, a few shots of liquor when I struggle to sleep. I know it’s not healthy, but I cannot bother to care about health under such circumstances.”
He immediately regretted his honesty upon being faced with the sadness in her eyes. She squeezed his palm, and her other hand gently caressed his cheek. He hated to disappoint, especially her of all people.
“I wish I could take care of you during those times,” she whispered.
“This bit of care is more than enough, I assure you,” he said, waving his hand to indicate that the care in question was the room around him.
“No, it’s not.”
He didn’t wish to discuss this any longer, so he simply shook his head and stared at the wall ahead of him, which offered a far less interesting sight than the woman at his side. She kept caressing his hand, and then she threaded her fingers through his hair, effectively drawing his attention.
Her eyes were glossy, as if she was keeping back tears. He could feel the intensity of her emotions in the Force, and though she was clearly upset, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but notice that she was absolutely beautiful.
“I’ve missed you, Ben.”
No words could possibly describe how deeply he missed her presence, so he settled for the simplest of phrases.
“So have I.”
After a few moments of longing staring, he leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against hers, softly, barely a kiss at all. She returned the gesture, kissing him deeply, and Obi-Wan wished he could enjoy her comforting touch far more often.
After breaking apart, she looked him in the eyes and smiled before resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her back and kept her close, pressing a small kiss on the top of her hair.
“When the war ends,” he muttered, “I’ll be visiting more often. I promise.”
She snuggled closer to him and fiddled with the fabric of his clothing.
“I want you to promise me something else, too.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“That you’ll start taking care of yourself, for my sake, since I cannot take care of you myself.”
His heart melted at her words, but he tried not to show how much he was overcome by emotion.
“Alright. I promise I will try.”
Satine shifted in his arms and turned to look at him, and for once he couldn’t tell her intentions from the look in her eyes.
“And how do I know you’ll keep your word?”
“You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”
She eyed him skeptically, but in the end she smirked, evidently satisfied, or at least content with his answer.
“I have missed this sort of quiet,” he confessed after a while, barely registering that he had spoken his thoughts out loud.
“You’ll always be welcome here on Mandalore, whether you need a break for the war or a hideout or simply some holidays, I’ll be glad to provide you with whatever you need. Ner yaim cuyi gar yaim.”
“Vor’e, cyare,” he replied, before pressing another kiss on her forehead. “Vor entye par an.”