As the shuttle took off and Lanteeb grew smaller and smaller in the viewports, Anakin Skywalker allowed himself to *feel*. He'd been so concerned about Obi-Wan throughout the whole ordeal; weakened after Zigoola, and still spending every moment and ounce of energy healing Torbel's sick and wounded, Anakin had been worried that Obi-Wan would just keel over before help arrived. But Obi-Wan hadn't, and now they were heading home, the shuttle quickly docking in Resolute's bay.
Now that he was stopping to think about it, Anakin wasn't sure how long it was going to take for him to regain his depleted reserves of energy. He felt drained in a way he never had before, not on Maridun, not on Geonosis. He got the distinct feeling he was leaving behind part of himself on Lanteeb; not that he regretted what he'd done, of course. Pouring his own life force into the village's shields had been a necessary action, one he would do again in a heartbeat. But still.
"General Skywalker." Admiral Yularen's presence was a relief, a sense of normalcy after so long of thinking he'd never set foot on his flagship again.
"Admiral," Anakin replied. He wanted to go to the bridge, wanted to watch Lanteeb disappear into a smear of hyperspace. If he stopped moving now, he wasn't sure he'd ever start again.
Yularen gave him a critical eye as two clone troopers herded Obi-Wan out of the docking bay. Anakin half wanted to follow, but mostly he wanted to keep moving. Obi-Wan needed rest; he and Anakin had been spending far too much time together anyway.
"I was informed that you are to go to medbay immediately, General," Yularen told him firmly. Anakin stared at the Admiral, unsure of whether or not he felt up to an argument. Well, maybe a little argument.
"I'm fine," he said, holding up a hand. "No worries, Admiral, I got checked out by the field medics." It was true, too. Coric had done an admirable job of getting him some ration bars and taking his pulse before Anakin had pushed him towards Obi-Wan.
Yularen arched an eyebrow. "Who do you think informed me you needed to go to medbay?" he asked.
Anakin was tempted to huff, but he respected Yularen - the poor man was just doing his job. Besides, Anakin had a nasty headache; he could snatch some blockers and be on his way. "Fine," he said, shaking his head. "But when they tell me I'm fine, I'm coming back to say I told you so."
Yularen's mouth quirked slightly. "Whatever you say, General," he replied dryly.
Medbay seemed like an awful long walk from the docking bay. Anakin was tempted to lean against the bulkhead to catch his breath several times, but he shook off the impulse - he wasn't that bad off; he didn't want his men to think he was playing up how badly he felt, even as he had to stop to stretch his cramping calf muscles. For a moment, he forgot where he was going, the realization jarring him into better awareness, and he made sure not to stop again until he reached the medbay.
MD-430, the med 'droid on duty, whirred over to him. "I've been expecting you, General," the 'droid said, motioning for Anakin to follow him.
Anakin cleared his throat, suddenly hyper-aware of how dirty he was, and how badly he must have smelled: two weeks without showering or changing clothes, and he was very, very conscious of the way the rough fabric felt against his skin. "D'you mind if I shower first?" he asked, pretty sure all he really needed was some clean clothes and a glass of water or two. Or maybe a nap. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept.
"Of course not, Sir," the 'droid replied, and led him to the small 'fresher in the back of the medbay. He passed Obi-Wan, who was hooked up to a bag of fluids, and who seemed pleased to see Anakin. He scowled slightly, displeased at the machinations he was sure Obi-Wan had set in motion to get him here, but nodded in his former Master's direction.
Once in the 'fresher, Anakin slowly peeled off his filthy Lanteeban work clothes, wincing at the fabric snagged on blaster wounds, skinned knees and elbow, and more cuts and scrapes than he could probably count. His cracked collarbone screamed in protest - though Obi-Wan had done his best to heal it, all of the running around and fighting and deprivation had obviously undone his former Master's good work. Straightening up, he grabbed the wall as the room spun around him and his heart pounded. After a moment to rest, he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water pound down on his aching body; the running water reminded him of how little he'd had to drink in the last two weeks, but he realized he wasn't particularly thirsty, nor was he very hungry, even though he'd been making sure the rations Teeba Jacklin had provided him went into Obi-Wan's stomach. He had more stamina than Obi-Wan, that was all; besides, he wasn't the one who'd tried to heal an entire town of hurt and sick. All he'd done was keep the machines running.
It took nearly a half hour before he felt clean again. When he stepped out of the shower, again grabbing the wall for support, he saw someone had laid out a soft cream tunic and sleep pants and slid them on gratefully. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he tied the tunic closed, and despite his newly-clean and freshly-shaved state, he almost didn't recognize himself, normally tanned skin sallow, cheeks and eyes sunken and shadowed. Exhausted.
He was ready to simply go back to his bunk and go to sleep, but before he could sneak back out of the medbay, MD-430 stopped him. "I'm sorry, Sir," the 'droid said, "but I would be remiss in my function if I neglected to perform an examination on you."
Anakin turned to Obi-Wan, hoping his former Master would come to his aid, but Obi-Wan had fallen asleep. Typical, Anakin thought bitterly, allowing MD-430 to lead him to an exam table and pulling himself onto it, biting back a moan of weariness. "I just need to run a few routine tests, General," the 'droid informed him, pressing a hypo against Anakin's flesh arm and drawing a blood sample. "When was your last sleep cycle?"
Anakin furrowed his brow. "I slept for a few hours, uh..." He faltered. He didn't want the med 'droid to know exactly how long it had been. A movement in his peripheral vision distracted him; when he turned his head, nothing was there.
"And your last full meal?" was the next question, which Anakin also didn't remember. It had been in Bant'ena's apartment, but he didn't know how long ago that had been. At least two weeks, possibly longer. Time had smeared together in Torbel.
"I had a couple ration bars a few hours ago," he replied. In fact, he could still feel them sitting heavy in his stomach, refusing to be digested. He almost wanted to throw up. He hunched slightly as the med 'droid pulled open his tunic and examined his wounds, injecting a bone knitter into his shoulderblade - Anakin had forgotten how much that particular treatment could hurt - and pressing bacta patches onto the blaster burns and cuts. There was a dinging sound, and Anakin jerked away, surprised. It was only the blood monitor, indicating the tests were completed. MD-430 studied the results, then turned back to Anakin. "You are severely dehydrated, General. You are suffering from nutrient and vitamin deficiency and acute damotite poisoning. You have lost 20 percent of your body weight, and scans indicate a massive electrolyte imbalance. Suggested course of treatment is IV nutrients and fluids and bed rest."
Anakin scowled deeply. While he wasn't overly surprised by the findings (it wasn't as though he could ignore the fact he hadn't eaten or slept, and had been breathing in toxic fumes), he didn't exactly want to get stuck in medbay with an IV in his arm for the foreseeable future. There was nothing a little sleep in his own bunk and a good meal or two wouldn't cure, surely. When he told MD-430 as much, the 'droid put a restraining claw on his uninjured shoulder. "It is highly unusual that your internal organs have not shut down already, General. If you do not get proper treatment, you will suffer from kidney failure and brain damage within two days."
Anakin blinked. He wasn't sure the med 'droid had ever spoken to him so firmly before, and they'd had quite a few run-ins in his time as commanding General of the Resolute. It wasn't that he didn't believe the med 'droid, it was just... He hadn't expected the litany of damage to be so severe, hadn't expected to hear urgency in regards to his own condition. Throughout the ordeal in Torbel, Anakin had merely... set aside his discomfort, pushed aside thoughts of lasting damage, soldiered on because if he hadn't, well... Obi-Wan had told him about the devastation of theta storms, and if he hadn't done what he'd done, the entire village would have been radiated to the ground. If he hadn't done what he'd done, Obi-Wan might have succumbed to starvation and exhaustion. If he hadn't done what he'd done, he'd have the blood of dozens of innocent people on his hands, even if he would have been dead along with them. Those alternatives were unacceptable to him, so he'd poured his own blood into Torbel.
"Please, Sir," MD-430 said, pressing another hypo against Anakin's neck. Anakin felt something cool stir in his veins, and frowned. "You must rest."
Anakin's vision blurred and he struggled to remain sitting upright, feeling somewhat betrayed by the med 'droid's actions. "You drugged me, Em Dee," he accused, feeling his eyelids drooping, feeling, distantly, MD-430 pushing him back on the bed.
"Forgive me, Sir," the 'droid replied, not sounding the least bit sorry. "But you gave me no choice. General Kenobi made his orders clear."
Anakin's last conscious thought was that he and Obi-Wan were going to have a very long talk when he woke up.
When Anakin opened his eyes again, the medbay was dark, the only illumination coming from the monitors surrounding his bed. He moaned slightly, feeling sluggish, feeling nauseous and sweaty, feeling... pissed off that Obi-Wan would dare give the order to drug him into submission. He could sense his former Master was awake - time to make sure the older man knew exactly how Anakin felt about the arrangement. He pushed himself upright, closing his eyes against the waves of discomfort, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Taking care to unhook himself from the monitors (but leaving the IV; he'd ripped one out before, and regretted it later), he padded softly over to Obi-Wan's bed, using the wheeled IV pole for support.
"Anakin, you need to be in bed," Obi-Wan chided, waving his hand to turn on his bedside lamp. "You're ill. You need rest." As if this were just any old mission, as if Obi-Wan hadn't tricked him.
"You told Em Dee to sedate me," Anakin replied, realizing how very close to pouting he sounded. "That's not fair, Master, I was fine."
Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a doubtful look at Anakin. "You conspired against me on Lanteeb, Anakin" he said. "You Force-suggested I sleep while you stayed awake. You hid the fact you were providing your rations to others. You ignored your own limits and lied about it. I think I was well within my rights to do what I did to keep you alive."
Anakin opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to figure out how to protest without refuting anything that Obi-Wan had said; it was all true, after all. "If I hadn't, more people would have died," was all he could say.
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Oh, Anakin," he sighed. "When will you learn that you cannot continue putting yourself at risk like this?"
Anger flared in Anakin's chest, making him dizzy. "Look who's talking!" he retorted. "You put yourself at risk even more than I did - do you know how badly you could have damaged yourself trying to heal those people?" He clenched his fists, the metal of the IV pole buckling slightly under the strength of his mechanical hand.
"And if I hadn't, they would have died," Obi-Wan pointed out. He quirked an eyebrow. "Now do you realize how frustrating it can be to talk to you?" he asked.
"That's not fair," Anakin grumped, feeling weak and feverish. He'd be damned if he was just going to let Obi-Wan win, though. "It's different." He coughed, and shifted his weight slightly.
Obi-Wan's expression softened. "Come here," he admonished gently, moving over in the bed and holding out a hand.
Anakin hesitated slightly. The bed wasn't big, and he didn't want to crowd Obi-Wan. But he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it back to his own bed, and the unwanted vulnerability he'd been feeling wasn't going to go away if he sat by himself and brooded over it. Finally, he settled onto the bed beside Obi-Wan. "I'm sorry, Master," he said, closing his eyes.
Obi-Wan put a hand on his forehead and Anakin felt a gentle sleep suggestion nudge his mind. This time, he welcomed it, pulled it towards himself. "Sleep, Anakin."
And with the comforting weight of his Master beside him, Anakin did.