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It all began on Felucia.
Or, rather, it began sometime before that. If Obi-Wan was being honest with himself, he couldn’t say exactly when it started again.
Though if one were to ask for the truth in its entirety, he’d be forced to say that it didn’t even start before Felucia. It started decades before that — a distant memory of childhood illness that Obi-Wan couldn’t bear to remember in detail.
Sure, the Healers had records of the whole affair — from the crippling visions he had first experienced while sleeping in the crèche, to the violent, horrifying episodes he’d had later on in the Halls, draining him of his strength.
He was supposed to have died then. The Healers had never said it to him at the time, but Obi-Wan somehow knew, even then. The rest of his memories of the whole affair had gone foggy over time, but that was something that remained.
That, and Vader.
He could still see him sometimes, in his mind’s eye. The Sith Lord still appeared in his dreams every so often, and Obi-Wan forced himself to believe that it was a dream of a memory long gone, nothing more.
That was, until now.
It happened again.
Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan sat up, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths through cold, aching lungs. His hands trembled as he scrubbed at his eyes, forcing the last vestiges of the vision away, desperate to forget, and yet —
Something told him that he couldn’t afford to forget. He shouldn’t.
The Negotiator was colder than usual — cold enough that it was somehow comforting, because it allowed Obi-Wan to focus on something else besides the fact that it was the third night in a row that this had happened, and that everything was on the verge of falling completely apart.
His men needed him.
Force, the galaxy needed him.
“It can’t be happening now,” he whispered to himself. “Please, no more of this. Please.”
No more.
He couldn’t afford to sleep again, not unless he wanted to see — once again — the all-too-realistic possibility of the fall of the Jedi and the rise of the Sith. Obi-Wan would be better off walking over to the bridge to check on the ship’s path back to Coruscant.
Focus on the here and now.
That was what he needed to do. Qui-Gon’s words had grounded him back then, and they would ground him now.
With a sigh, Obi-Wan swung his legs to the side of the bed and stood up. A strange, dizzying feeling rushed through his mind for a split-second, and he placed a hand on the wall next to the bed, hunching forward slightly.
The Force shuddered.
Breathe.
Once the dizziness passed, Obi-Wan shook his head.
There was no time for this, whatever it was. He needed to oversee the trip back to Coruscant, and then he’d try to figure this out after reporting to the Council and making sure everything was taken care of.
It was all he could afford to do.
Obi-Wan didn’t even get the chance to report to the Council in-person.
The visions grew in frequency and severity before he ever could.
A few nights ago, the vision he had while sleeping lead into a seizure and nosebleed, resulting in Cody storming into his room and slapping him awake.
It was, frankly, a horrifying affair.
Obi-Wan couldn’t remember much of what had happened afterward, because a migraine swept up and overtook his senses for the hours of the night that remained.
When he finally came back to his senses, they were two days away from Coruscant.
The bridge was a bustle of activity when he walked in. Troopers were stationed at the entrance, pilots sitting at the consoles, and Cody stood in the middle of it all, watching everything with a familiar, practiced gaze.
“Commander,” Obi-Wan greeted.
Cody turned to face him, eyebrow raised. “General Kenobi,” he replied. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here, Sir. You were…” His voice trailed off, voice uncharacteristically uncertain. “I told the Council that you were unwell; you can get some more rest if you want.”
Obi-Wan smiled softly and shook his head. “I am needed here,” he said. “And I do feel better, Cody. Thank you.”
Cody’s lips pressed together in that way that told Obi-Wan that his commander didn’t completely believe him.
“I will take a break on Coruscant, when we return,” Obi-Wan continued. “We’re long overdue for a leave. I’m sure the men will appreciate it.”
A break would be a good idea. He’d take a break, get these visions under control, and then he could get back to work. And if the worst-case scenario did arise, then…
Well, he’d figure it out. There was time.
Cody nodded. “They will, Sir,” he said. “And so will you.”
Obi-Wan smiled thinly in response.
The ship rumbled on.
The waking visions returned a few hours before they arrived on Coruscant.
Obi-Wan was sitting at his desk in an empty conference room in the Negotiator when it first happened. He vaguely remembered staring down at a datapad, filling out a requisitions form while thinking about making a comm call to Anakin, who was stuck on Bothawui.
But the next thing he knew, he was collapsed on the floor minutes later, on all-fours, dry-heaving as his body was consumed with horrible, wrenching shudders. Obi-Wan couldn’t remember anything of what he had seen, besides the Force itself bleeding a darkness so terrible that —
No. No.
He would not allow this to consume him. These visions were not the future. They were only a potential one.
That was what he’d been told, ever since he was a youngling.
He needed to remember that.
Obi-Wan picked himself up off the floor on trembling, aching limbs, dusted himself off and stumbled into the refresher. The face that stared back at him in the mirror was gaunt and pale, with dark eyes and hollow cheeks. It took him a few moments to splash some water into his eyes, in an effort to make himself look more alive.
As soon as he finished, his comm buzzed.
The ship was preparing to land on Coruscant.
Obi-Wan was busy for the hours that followed. From overseeing the Negotiator’s landing on a large landing platform to arranging for transportation through Coruscant for all of his men, Obi-Wan didn’t really have a spare moment to contact the Council, as he had initially hoped.
Instead, he sent the report to the Council five hours after landing, along with a request for leave — for himself and for his men. Obi-Wan didn’t like requesting it for himself, knowing especially that it was seemingly coming out of nowhere, but…
Something was not right. That much was clear.
And he needed to be prepared for whatever would come next.
The severity and frequency of the visions increased far more rapidly than he expected.
But he couldn’t say anything — not yet.
Not when he saw the Sith walking the Temple corridors, intent on death and destruction. Submitting himself to the mercy of the Healers meant that he’d be subjected to poking and prodding, instead of having the chance to look for answers in his visions.
So he held off on saying anything at all.
It was probably not the best choice to make, considering the fact that he was having multiple waking visions a day by the time his second day of leave came around, he was unable to sleep or keep much food down at all, and he felt too exhausted to even leave his quarters.
Bant had commed him a few times, asking when he’d like to come by for dinner at her quarters, but he managed to come up with a feeble excuse. Knowing her, she’d probably question it, but…
He just needed more time.
But he didn’t realize how quickly time was running out.
That evening, Obi-Wan came to collapsed on his side just outside of his quarters. There was a horrible pain pulsing deep in his skull, and he could barely make sense of his surroundings. Dimly, he was aware of footsteps and too-loud voices all around him.
And in the distance, he heard Vader’s mechanical breathing — an ever-looming shadow of a devastation yet to come.
“—ter—bi?”
Obi-Wan’s mouth worked as he struggled to reply, to say that he was fine and that he was just tired, but all that came out of him was a strangled sound. Sure, he couldn’t see, speak, or move very well at the moment, and the headache was very quickly becoming way too much for him to handle, but the last thing he needed was…
His vision blurred even further, and then there was a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and then —
Everything around him shifted into death and destruction.
Vader, walking through this very corridor, lightsaber in hand. Cutting down younglings, Padawans, Knights, and Masters like they meant nothing to him.
All of the Jedi falling, blank features etched with shock and betrayal.
And Vader pressed on, undeterred.
Until the Jedi Order was nothing more than a distant memory.
A hand on his shoulder caused his surroundings to shift back. Obi-Wan blinked heavily, but it was as though his vision refused to clear. All he knew was that there were more voices, more people, and that wasn’t good because he didn’t want too many people knowing about this, but now…
Dimly, he felt someone moving him from where he was lying on his side on the floor to a softer surface. The change in movement caused him to let out a strangled groan.
More voices, more shifting, and then a hand reaching for his wrist.
The hiss of a hypospray.
And darkness overwhelming the light.
He woke up in the Halls of Healing.
Obi-Wan blinked up at the all-too-familiar ceiling, drained and confused.
“Obi-Wan.”
Slowly, he turned his head to the side, where Master Che was staring at him with bright, concerned eyes.
He pressed his lips together, swallowed. “Wha…”
The sound was quiet, unfamiliar to his own ears. It was strange, really — for some reason, he couldn’t talk. Not like he normally did.
“You wish to know what happened?” she asked.
Obi-Wan started to nod, only to realize that moving his head at all was a bad, bad idea. His vision swam, bile crawled up his throat, and he shuddered as pain wrenched itself through his mind.
Warm hands on his upper shoulders, grounding him until the sensation passed.
“Breathe,” Master Che whispered. “Breathe.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and forced breaths in and out of his nose, until the pain eased into a dull ache throbbing away at the base of his skull.
Master Che sighed and moved back, causing Obi-Wan to blink up at her with watery eyes.
“One of the Padawans found you collapsed outside of your quarters, having what they described as some sort of episode,” she began. “By the time you came out of it, they’d already called us for transport, but they noticed that you were displaying symptoms consistent with a stroke.”
She paused, and Obi-Wan felt a pit form in his stomach.
“We did some scans to confirm, and the Padawan was correct,” she said softly. “I am sorry, Obi-Wan.”
He swallowed, struggling to get his mouth to open. “How?” he managed.
The Healer sighed and sat back down on her chair. “We will need to run tests to understand how this happened, but Obi-Wan…when were you going to tell us that you were having visions again?”
Her voice was gentler than he’d heard it in a very long time, and Obi-Wan didn’t quite know how to answer. He supposed he couldn’t right now, given the fact that speaking was still more difficult than expected.
Because he had a stroke.
He knew that it was getting worse more quickly than before, but he never thought it would lead to something like this — something so horrifying and life-threatening.
He could have died.
He might still die, if the visions and symptoms continue at this relentless pace, or even at a faster one.
“We can talk about this later,” Master Che said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “For now, we need to focus on your recovery. And if you are having visions, you know this means that we need to understand why.”
Obi-Wan hummed in agreement.
“I will let the Council know. Would you like me to send a message to Anakin?”
Anakin was away on Bothawui, with Ahsoka. Obi-Wan had never spoken to him about any of this, and now…
He couldn’t afford to distract him from his mission. Not like this.
“N-no…”
A pause.
“Very well, Obi-Wan.” Master Che stood up and walked over to the IV stand next to his bed. “I am going to increase your sedation so you can get some proper sleep. It seems that it helps to keep the visions at bay, but I remember from the past that eventually this will become ineffective.”
Obi-Wan hummed.
“Rest well, Obi-Wan.”
A quiet shift, and then everything faded into nothingness.
Eventually, Anakin and Ahsoka returned, and they came by to visit him at the Halls.
At that point, he was both worse and better.
He’d mostly recovered from the stroke, though he was still too weak to get out of bed, let alone walk. Though Obi-Wan suspected that a part of that might be attributed to the horrifying, relentless frequency of his visions.
The sedatives stopped working a few days before Anakin returned, and at that point, the only food Obi-Wan was able to keep down was a watery soup. He really didn’t want to worry Anakin, but keeping track of reality and what was happening in the visions made things a bit too confusing.
And it was too much.
He couldn’t…hold on.
The Force was too much, the Light the Dark the Jedi Sith balance death life creatures temples destruction —
And then through it all, there was one clear thought, one clear realization:
Darth Vader.
At this point, lucidity was a rare thing. Dimly, Obi-Wan realized that he’d had an episode where he called Anakin “Vader”, and somehow…
It made sense.
Especially when the very next vision he had confirmed it, because it was not Vader who walked through the Temple corridors to kill all the younglings, Padawans, Knights, and Masters, but it was Anakin.
Anakin was Vader.
Anakin would become Vader, unless —
He had little choice now.
He should have realized that attempting to sever his connection to the Force would nearly kill him. It left him too vulnerable to attack, though the vision that ensued in the chaos gave him enough clarity to see the truth.
“Sidious — Palpatine.”
He uttered those words, and then everything fell away into a different sort of battle. It was a battle of wills against the Sith ghosts, for him to live long enough to help Anakin fulfill his destiny.
As he expected, he learned very quickly that he was not meant to survive this in the end. His visions indicated as much, and if he was being honest with himself, he knew that his body had already gone through too much at this point.
He could only wait for Anakin, and hope…
The Force would keep him, drifting between life and death, until Anakin would need him.
And Obi-Wan would gladly give him what little remained of his life to bring balance to the Force.
And with that final gift, Anakin used the fleeting remnants of Obi-Wan’s light to bring balance, peace, and prosperity to the galaxy.
And Obi-Wan, well…
The Force welcomed him with open arms.