Chapter Text
Grievous was dead. After three agonizing years of war, victory was finally in the Republic’s sights. It was supposed to be a cause for celebration. The remainder of Grievous' forces on Utapau were weak and leaderless, something Obi-Wan and the 212th could take care of easily. Obi-Wan had just been preparing to move to the higher levels for the last phase of the offensive when Cody tapped him on the hand as he stood far below the height of his varactyl.
“Urgent call for you, sir,” Cody had said, holding a holoprojector. “From General Skywalker.”
Obi-Wan hadn’t liked the crease Cody wore on his brow then, any more than he did now.
“News from the Council?” Obi-Wan asked, but the growing feeling of unease in his stomach had been hard to ignore.
“No. Something’s wrong. He sounded… Just take this,” he said, pushing the holoprojector towards him.
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, turning it over in his hands a few times. “You and Odd Ball continue engaging Grievous' forces. It should not be long now.”
“Yes, sir,” Cody said, his eyes lingering on Obi-Wan for a moment before he rejoined the battle.
Obi-Wan had guided Boga to a more secluded corner of the compound. It was still pretty noisy—the sounds of battle roaring in his ears. Slipping off Boga, he gave her a few gentle pats before taking a deep breath and clicking the call button, watching Anakin’s holopresence flicker into view.
He was in the council room, the sun just beginning to set from the view of the large window behind him. His head slumped over, but Obi-Wan had known something was off. He had spent the last 13 years with Anakin; he knew Anakin’s every look, every tell, every expression. This had been no exception. Anakin looked haunted.
“Anakin?” Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his voice level.
His head shot up, and the tear tracks that crisscrossed his cheeks were clear even through the holo. “Master? I’m sorry, I know I shouldn't have called. I have no excuse, I just—” his breath hitched.
“It is okay. Talk to me, little one.” Anakin wasn’t little—he hadn’t been for quite some time. But in that moment, Obi-Wan hadn’t seen the 22-year-old hardened by three years of war; he saw the nine-year-old he used to hold through nightmares. The boy he promised he would protect.
Anakin exhaled shakily. “I need you, Master. Something's happening.” His chest began to heave. “Please, Obi.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t remember the last time he had heard Anakin call him that. Hearing him say it then, panic building underneath his careful shield, made Obi-Wan feel like he had just swallowed fire. He immediately started planning out his next few moves. Anakin needed him, and Obi-Wan would go. It was as simple as that.
Obi-Wan hadn’t been sure why, but he had a powerful feeling about the importance of Anakin staying in the council room.
"I’m coming, Anakin. I want you to stay where you are, okay? Don't move, don't go anywhere until I get there. I am on my way."
“H-hurry,” Anakin quickly added before Obi-Wan cut the connection and dashed towards his starfighter.
Obi-Wan had hardly given Cody or the rest of his men an explanation before he powered up his ship and was off planet within minutes. He knew it wasn’t proper to leave his battalion in the middle of a battle, but he had enough trust in Cody and his men to handle the remainder of Grievous’ forces so he could go find Anakin. With Grievous and Dooku both dead, that meant the war was over. The question of Grievous and Dooku’s Master still lingered, but Obi-Wan couldn’t focus on that now—Anakin needed him.
He had just seen Anakin before he left for Utapau, less than even a half a day ago. What had happened? Why did Anakin look so… tormented? He tried feeling for him along their bond, but something was blocking it. Not Anakin himself; his shields felt weak when Obi-Wan had last seen him. Something else. Something sinister. Not even hyperspace travel felt fast enough.