Work Text:
“Is this live?” Plo asked as he crossed to his seat, motioning to the holo of their youngest member, already aware of how dire the situation was. They’d received the ransom demand less than half an hour before and every member of the Council who hadn’t yet left Coruscant’s orbit was called back.
A million credits for Obi-Wan’s life. A ridiculous amount for any person. A value that had the Chancellor shaking his head and murmuring about the heartbreaking casualties of war. Yet, the value of a life wasn’t measured by how many credits they could be extorted for, but by their actions and if any of their Order deserved a rescue attempt, it was Obi-Wan Kenobi.
The young man was still unconscious, slumped against a wall, the same as he had been since the holo had been sent to them.
The only relief to be found in the situation was that Obi-Wan appeared almost unharmed. Stripped of his robes, lightsaber and the resilience he wore as a shield, but with only some blood dried into his hair. Nothing life-threatening.
He wasn’t dying.
They had time to rescue him.
The usually sharp blue eyes were slow to open, accompanied by a condor-like blinking, not quite seeing, staring past whatever device was recording. The bleary-eyed look vanished the moment Obi-Wan tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, only to pull and find his hands bound to the floor by a short chain.
“Kriff,” Obi-Wan muttered, screwing his eyes closed before opening them again, searching out something in the gloom that surrounded him. His gaze must have landed on a person because a weak attempt at a charming smile came to his face. “Would you be so kind as to uncuff me?”
In any other situation, that might have worked, especially since Obi-Wan’s silver tongue had been the reason for his moniker. Only, from the way the ginger’s smile faded from his lips, it wasn’t working, and if the hitched breath was any indication, it had only worsened the situation.
“We have General Kenobi.” The words broke the silence from the Jedi’s captor, a voice altered by a grating vocoder, a glint of durasteel as the helmet moved into view. “You have two hours to bring the credits before he dies.”
If the news of his impending death had scared the Jedi, he didn’t show it, his expression still the same faded smile he’d been wearing even as his captor moved towards him. There must have been an exchange of words because Obi-Wan exhaled an all too shaky breath for his usual composed self. It was only once he was visible again that it was clear why he’d lost all hope. He was unarmed, powerless and at the whims of his captor. The same captor who was holding a vibroblade to his throat, so close that blood was beading along the blade.
“Any last words?”
There was a long, slow breath, a level of calm descending over the Jedi, chasing away the eyes full of infinite sadness and the despondent expression, replacing it with nothing but serenity. Obi-Wan was silent for a little while longer, just breathing but his voice was steady when he finally spoke. “I’ll meet you in the Force, Masters.”
“How touching,” came the grating voice as the vibroblade traced down Obi-Wan’s bare neck and down his chest, slowly, leaving the faintest trail of red behind it. “Pity it means nothing.”
“Force…” Mace whispered as he watched the vibroblade plunge into Obi-Wan’s stomach, hearing the choked cry of pain from his fellow Council member, pressing a hand against his mouth as the blade was twisted.
As piercing as the cry of pain was, it wasn’t the worst noise. No, that was the sound of the armoured glove reaching into the wound, blood glistening on the hand as it moved to the wall.
Level 307 . The durasteel scraped along the wall with each letter, leaving behind a trail of scarlet slowly becoming obscured as Obi-Wan’s blood dripped down the surface behind him.
“Bring the credits to the transport on this level or lose your precious Jedi.”
Two hours until he bleeds out.
That was what the captor had meant.
Obi-Wan would die alone, in the dark and the cold, unless they gave up the credits in exchange for his location.
—
It took less time to assemble the clones than it did the best Jedi for this mission. They were loyal to a fault, chosen for their skills and compatibility with those involved.
Only four clones. The same number of Jedi. They had to be inconspicuous; there was no way of knowing whether Obi-Wan’s kidnapper had accomplices.
They couldn’t risk his life by being spotted.
They stood in near silence, everyone’s attention on the holo of Obi-Wan, watching him try to put pressure on a wound he couldn’t quite reach with his hands chained the way they were.
“General Skywalker and Commander Tano will be here shortly, General,” Rex stated without tearing his eyes away from the nightmare projected into the middle of the Council Chamber. “They’ve secured transport now down to the lower levels.”
Mace nodded. It wasn’t as though the situation was complicated, but time was of the essence. “I trust you’ll be able to bring them up to speed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Commander Cody, in the circumstances, you’ll be paired with Tano. Captain Rex, with Skywalker. Commander Faie, I believe you have undercover experience with Vos?”
“Plenty,” the Commander answered with a quick nod. “We’ll find him, sir.”
They had to. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about. “Good. You’ll be scouting ahead of the groups, ensuring the buildings are safe to enter, we can’t afford to spring any traps.”
If whoever had Obi-Wan was clever enough to steal a Jedi Master from near the Temple and bind him in Force-suppressing cuffs, they had to assume they’d be intelligent enough to lay traps to prevent a rescue before the credits were exchanged. Similarly, they had to know that Obi-Wan would be largely incapable by the time that happened so they must be storing him on the same level as the ransom drop.
“Ponds.” Mace looked over at his Commander waiting patiently, helmet under his arm and eyes fixed on Obi-Wan’s bloodied hands as he struggled to slow the bleeding. “I’m coming with you.”
“Sorry we’re la-” Anakin fell silent as the doors closed behind them, leaving him and Ahsoka exposed to the horrific reality they had barely adjusted to themselves. “Obi-Wan?”
“Master Kenobi does not have much time,” Plo explained, his voice a constant calm that was sorely needed over the faint groans of pain from the holo. “Roles have been assigned. You will need an earpiece, and to make your transport.”
“Master Koon is correct. By the time we arrive on his level, he will have little more than an hour left. Be quick but careful in your searches, we can’t afford to miss him.”
“Remain on comms, we shall, to monitor his condition.” Condition; as though that was the right word for Obi-Wan’s impending death. Someone needed to watch if only to ensure that no one finished the job whilst they were looking, or that Obi-Wan didn’t bleed out more quickly than expected. “Find him, you must.”
—
“I…” Obi-Wan started softly, eyes not quite looking at the camera and his head resting against the wall. “I’m sorry for whoever is watching this. I had hoped my death would be private… I imagine it won’t be pleasant to see or endure.”
It certainly wasn’t one of the nicer ways to die, bleeding out and unable to do anything about it. He’d seen clones die that way following explosions; he’d sat with them in their last moments, trying to relieve their pain. There was no such kindness afforded to him here.
His hand, slick with his own blood, slipped from the wound, leaving a trail of crimson across his skin as it fell towards the floor. There was a trembling breath, one moment of weakness where tears sprang to his eyes as he tried to adjust his hands so they’d slow the bleeding, only for the chain to rattle and his hands to remain as useless as before.
“I’m not-” He stopped as his voice cracked, a combination of the pain growing and the hope he always had fading away. There was an audible swallow before the blue eyes met the camera directly. “I’m not sure if this counts as a final request. I’m not entirely sure anyone is still there but if this has been sent to my fellow Council members, don’t rescue me.”
There was a sincerity to his words that was always absent from his other last requests, something ridiculous to stall until help arrived. This wasn’t that. This was hopelessness in the face of imminent death and a request to be followed after he was finally one with the Force.
“Please don’t try to rescue me, Masters. Your resources are better spent on…” There was a suppressed wince as he curled into himself, hands finally pressed against the gaping wound but doing very little to stop the bleeding. “Well, at this point, they should be used for anything that’ll stop innocent people dying.”
“That said,” he murmured, more than aware of the tears flowing down his cheeks, unable to brush them away. “If you could find the time to bring my body home once I’m gone?”
It was silent then, except for the pained breaths as Obi-Wan half-collapsed against the wall, gaze still directed at the camera that he knew was capturing his life fading away slowly over the next hour or so. Quite how long it would take, he didn’t know, but the blood was pooling around him and his fingers were starting to grow cold and stiff.
“I don’t know where I am, only that it’s underground and constructed of durasteel.” The suffocating silence pierced by noises above him and the cold metal against his skin was all he had to try and describe his surroundings. It wasn’t enough, he knew that, but it was all he could do. “It’s cold, I think.”
It felt as though he’d been exposed to the ice on Pantora, only this time, without the protection of his snow clothes or the shelter he’d found among what turned out to be friends. Just the cold. Unending, seeping into his bones and leaving him trembling in the shadows.
“I- um, I…” His tongue stumbled over words that should have been familiar, pushing through the pain, fear and confusion that had been setting in. “I could be wrong. I’m not sure whether it’s the blood loss yet.”
Perhaps it was the blood loss.
It no longer felt as though it was only the pain muddling his mind. That had been constant for nearly an hour now, burning away at his skin as though the vibroblade had set him alight, the agony only increasing with each breath. No, it couldn’t have been the pain making words slip from his thoughts like sand through his fingers, leaving him floundering when he should have been eloquent.
It couldn’t have been the pain that left his hands useless, covered in his own blood, unable to slow the bleeding that would kill him.
“Please forgive…” He faltered on the apology that he wanted desperately to make. To apologise for being captured, for worrying them, for dying. He managed a shaky smile a moment later as his vision started to fade out, knowing it would be over soon, at least for him. Someone would have to watch his chest stop rising and falling; to see his blood drain from his body until nothing remained. “I’m not… Not at my best.”
—
“The medics have arrived,” Mace informed the remaining Council the moment he was clear of the next building, finding a small amount of hope in the otherwise desperate situation.
His building had been empty. No Obi-Wan. The same as the building before, and the one before that, and what felt like the hundreds before that. They were running out of time. Forty-five minutes. That was all the time they had to find their missing Jedi before he died.
He couldn’t think about that. Not if he wanted to remain levelheaded and conduct the search parties properly. Cody and Ahsoka were checking underground shelters, Anakin and Rex were combing through the dark alleys and any basements they could access, and he had no idea where Quinlan and Faie were except that they were systematically checking through buildings on the east side.
No one had found him.
That already worrying piece of information was made worse by Obi-Wan’s stuttered breaths they could hear in the background. The holo had been patched through once their lost Jedi had started to describe his surroundings. His comm first, then to the Commanders, Rex, Quinlan, Ahsoka and finally Anakin once Obi-Wan fell silent. They couldn’t risk Anakin becoming distracted by Obi-Wan’s last words.
“Report?” He asked quietly into the comms once Ponds had left the building next to him with a shake of his head before walking into the next. “Anything positive?”
“Nothing, General,” Cody answered back with something that sounded oddly like grief in that constantly professional voice. “Three more buildings but not hopeful.”
“No one here,” Anakin answered, his tone that short and frustrated one that always appeared when he was worried and refused to talk about it. “Rex is checking the last alley in this section.”
“Master Vos?”
“The General has found a vibroblade,” Faie’s unmistakably clipped tone answered with a few shuddered breaths in the background.
“He’s-” Quinlan’s voice cut off with a steadying breath. That must have been the blade used for him to be so audibly shaken by it. “He’s in the disused storage facility a few streets ahead.”
“Commander Cody, assist Master Che in readying the speeder for Obi-Wan, Healer Eerin and Kira, follow Master Vos and wait outside for me to administer emergency care if Master Che isn’t ready.”
“What about me?”
“Skywalker, I know you want to help but you are unpredictable and that could cost Master Kenobi his life.”
The silence after a huff told him exactly how Anakin felt about his answer but it was the truth. He and Quinlan were going in because they wouldn’t attract attention deliberately whereas subtlety was not and had never been one of Anakin’s strong points.
There would be a time to train him but that was not now. Not when Obi-Wan was dying.
—
“I should have told my friends that I love them,” Obi-Wan mumbled, words slurring together through barely parted lips. He had no energy to talk and yet a thousand things to say that he’d never have the chance to.
A rescue wouldn’t be coming.
That was for the best.
He didn’t want to endanger people as his final act.
That just left the inevitability of his death to consider. It wouldn’t be long now. Not with how slowly the blood was oozing over his fingers, no longer flowing onto the floor but barely leaving the wound at all. He’d curled up at some point, body wrapped around his immobile hands, futilely pressing them against the wound, with head resting against the wall to keep it out of the pool of blood.
It meant he could still breathe, even if he had to think about sucking the air in and letting it back out. He had enough air to speak his thoughts before they disappeared like smoke.
“Would you do that for me, Masters? Make sure they know?”
He knew the impossibility of the task he was asking but he couldn’t bear it if his loved ones didn’t know how much he treasured them.
He wasn’t scared now. Something told him that he should have been, that death ought to be terrifying. The great unknown. Becoming one with the Force.
It didn’t feel scary, it felt as though someone he knew was waiting on the other side, ready to welcome him and relieve him of his pain.
Perhaps that was the Force.
“I always thought death would be frightening. Despite the teachings, I…” He softened his gaze at the camera, hoping that whoever was watching understood that he had no regrets about this decision. He wasn’t worried any longer. “It doesn’t. It feels safe. Calm, like Master Qui-Gon.”
—
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s mumbled voice floated over the comms, gasping breaths following the name of his former padawan and the rattle of chains accompanied a weak cry of pain. “I’m sorry.”
From the laboured breathing, the Jedi was struggling to deliver what would be his final message to his once padawan, but that didn’t stop the weak clearing of his throat. A noise that was enough to make Anakin stop in the middle of an alley, exposed to any enemies and yet not reacting to anything except the voice.
“If by some miracle, you see this… Please know I’m proud of you. I always have been.”
“Master?” He asked, as if Obi-Wan could hear him, sounding like a lost youngling once more, trying to seek the one person who’d give some comfort. “Please don’t…”
“We’ll find him, General,” Rex reassured although they both knew it wouldn’t matter unless they found him in the next few minutes. He could only hope that Faie and Ponds had been correct and were fast approaching the spot of the dying Jedi. “We’ll get him home.”
That felt more like a lie than before after there was the softest of sighs, barely an exhale, and words that seemed to fade out with Obi-Wan. “I think it’s time and I’m… I’m ready to…”
—
“Force…” Mace shook his head as he stepped into the dimly lit room, already aware of what he’d find. Yoda and Plo had forewarned him that their youngest member was near death. That hadn’t prepared him for the sheer amount of blood. “Obi-Wan? Can you hear me?”
The blue eyes barely opened at his voice, managing several long blinks before they closed again. Not even his hand against the ginger’s neck made him respond. Yet, it did raise his concern. The two hours they’d been given were clearly wrong. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to last ten more minutes let alone nearly half an hour. The younger Jedi was freezing, shivering with his hands shaking above the wound in his stomach.
He didn’t even hesitate to pull off his own cloak, kneeling in the blood to wrap it around the other, hoping against all odds that it would provide a little comfort if not some much-needed warmth. The cuffs were next to go, pulled away with an anger he rarely let out, and he caught Obi-Wan as he fell forward. He should have expected that but he hadn’t. He hadn’t thought about what they’d do if Obi-Wan was nearly dead. He’d hoped they’d reach him before that happened.
He could hear footsteps outside the door and he knew what they were but they weren’t important right now, not when he needed to make sure Obi-Wan stayed awake until he reached Master Che. He lifted the other into his arms, suppressing the rising panic over how pale he was as the younger Jedi curled into him, the colour difference all the more obvious against his cloak. “Are you with me, my friend?”
It took a painfully long time for a noise that confirmed he was and his heart broke when he heard the slurred attempt at words that followed. “’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he reassured, wishing he could provide a reassuring smile but he knew it would fall flat. Still, to think that Obi-Wan was apologising for any part of this was heartbreaking. He’d suffered enough without feeling any guilt about the situation.
“’s a trap.”
Yes, it was. They’d noticed that upon arrival and yet he’d gone inside anyway. Vos, Faie and Ponds were more than enough to defeat the few people who’d been waiting for them and his focus had been on something else entirely. Yoda had informed him, less cryptically than usual, that Obi-Wan had passed out and that it looked as though he might never awaken.
That estimation would prove to be true in a few minutes from the way Obi-Wan was struggling to hold on even now he knew he was being rescued.
“N’safe.”
“I believe Master Vos is taking care of that,” he replied with a weak attempt at a smile that became a more honest one as they walked out past a furious Quinlan punching someone in the face. “Stay awake for me, my friend. Master Che is just outside.”
There was a soft noise in response, one that didn’t mean anything in particular other than an indication Obi-Wan had heard him. It didn’t stop the blue eyes from closing before they stepped out of the building and into the alley lit by glaring fluorescent lights.
“You found him!” Anakin’s voice came from somewhere outside the alley but he didn’t have time to focus on where as he laid Obi-Wan onto the hoverstretcher, Cody helping to cover him with the cloak for modesty.
“Obi-Wan?” Master Che’s voice was quiet but insistent until the sliver of blue eyes showed, focused in her direction as Healer Eerin slipped an oxygen mask over his face. “Do you have any other injuries?”
There was a feeble attempt at Obi-Wan shaking his head. A motion that hardly said anything and yet spoke more than words possibly could in that moment.
“You can rest now, Master Kenobi. We’ll be here when you wake up.”