thisavrou_log

Crazy? Oh no. Crazy is thinking this thing is a solution!

[He waves the arm around for good measure, and instantly regrets it. The inflamation along the connected edge is glaringly apparent with his shirt off, after a restless few hours of trying to sleep with this dead weight attached. His shoulder is worn and sore, tired of holding up and accounting for the excessive weight attached at the brachialis. He rolls the shoulder back with an audible pop.]

Do you know what it feels like, having your nerves wired into a rock?

[It's a painful dead weight, a throbbing at the connected edge that has no recourse, nowhere else to send that message but right back to him, like knocking at a vacant door, or the pain piling up stress at the edge of a dam.]

It's already breaking, and I can make a better one, what's the big deal?

[ Perhaps they're both losing their minds. Kenobi isn't so sure he has any room to argue here as Anakin's already lost the arm, but still the idea of it sends waves of nausea through him. He remembers how much more composed he felt when he was taking Zam's arm (the first and the second time), and it certainly didn't feel anything like this has the potential to feel. ]

You already know what it feels like having your nerves severed by a lightsaber! It's not something you welcome, Anakin. It is a big deal!

[ This is as close as he gets to yelling anymore. ]

Only because you're making it one!

[Arm aside, he doesn't quite feel so much like death warmed over anymore. Vader is, of course, always on the periphery, somewhere. Lurking, and watching, and waiting. Something to be vaguely cautious of, as if he could ever divorce his mind from it fully. Right now, however, it's a dim, barely warm topic, a backburner set to low heat; it's just present enough to never go away, but not quite enough to burn.

Especially not when the topic at hand has been set to a good 9/10 on the temperature scale.]

And I'm not welcoming it. Just because I find it prudent--

[He sighs. It needs to be done now, and his friend is acting as if he's asked him to murder, not simply hack off--

He should have known this pushed on the side of too far, where that oath not to hurt each other is taken literally. Wouldn't he throw the same fit, were their roles reversed? Or would he simply do it without question, what looks as if it must be done?]

Fine. Fine. You're right. It's unfair of me to ask this of you.

[A heartbeat passes; his decision is made.]

I'll do it myself.

Now I know you're mad!

[ It's practically accompanied by Kenobi throwing his arms into the air, because he can't for the life of him understand that indifference. No, sorry, this prudent measure, as it's apparently being called. ]

Don't you think you'd at least like to be in Medical? Or — and here's a thought — that you might want to allow a medical professional assist?

[ Because you'd better believe that Obi-Wan will not be allowing Anakin to do this himself. ]

[Anakin looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "Allow a medical professional--" Who's the crazy one here now? Since when has he ever trusted the Medbay to be anything other than pandering, excessive, and even more fretful than the man standing in front of him.

He gives Obi-Wan an exaggerated eyeroll--a childish reaction that shows he's...well, thinking of something else, if not on the road to recovery from their last bout of trama--and holds the arm out for inspection. The glass has come to replace all the prosthetic, closing up holes and stiffening every fabricated nerve within the arm. with the visible fracture at the wrist, the thing might as well be porcelain for all it serves: it's a paperweight with no mobility, and one that's not even quite hardly enough to put up with that kind of stress.

Unfortunately, in replacing the whole of the prosthetic, that includes the ring at the top that once served as a tourniquet for the stump of his arm and then the connector for his severed nerves to feed into their mechanized replacements. Screws and other sordid removeable pieces and all. Where it used to be possible to pull apart pieces of that prosthetic arm (a practice that often unsettled anyone in the vicinity to watch), the glass has smoothed everything over. There is, in other words, no other way to remove it other than to perhaps shatter the glass.

And there's no telling how that might end up when this shouldn't even be possible in the first place.]

Look. How else is anyone going to get rid of it? I don't trust them. Would you?

[Especially given how jobs on this bucket of bolts seem to sometimes be assigned so sporadically, with such sweeping assumption, that there's no real telling how truly qualified the Medbay is.]

[ He would leave that arm alone, he thinks, but if Obi-Wan was being truthful with himself, he knows just as well as Anakin that it would eventually weigh him down, too.

Sighing, he runs his hands down his face and tries not to think too hard about how difficult everything seems to have become. Why is it that he feels like they still have a galaxy of problems to fend off, but only the size of a ship to contain all of it? ]

I'm fairly certain I wouldn't trust me. What qualifications do I have? I could end up making things worse, you know...

[ Or, as Skywalker expects, he can carefully remove the arm and cauterize the wound in one smooth stroke. But Obi-Wan's certainly not looking forward to that, even if he is taking up his lightsaber and fiddling with it as he paces a few more nervous circles around the room. ]

I've trusted you with worse.

[His life. His padawan. His troops. His children. His marriage. His destiny. What is an arm in the face of all that? One that's already been lost once at that?

He glances at the ground then, not uncertain (not about this), as he can feel Obi-Wan's discomfort. This too is selfish, as if anything lately has been fair to his friend by virtue of his unfortunate proximity to the source of his trouble.

He's already tried to push away once. Still considers his safety in this, an undercurrent that never goes away. But when all that dust starts to settle, when the fire dies to (still dangerous) embers, he knows he'd trust no one else to do this.

(Though a lightsaber's unique knack for severing a limb cleanly is no small additional consideration.)]

You won't. I'm the one who--

[This isn't the time for that. The rest of that sentence is bitten back.]

I trust you. I know this is a lot, but who else am I going to ask?

[ Obi-Wan feels fairly well defeated, lost to what appears like a common sense plea despite his reservations and thoughts otherwise. As with Zam, the indignation flares, but not so strong even if he hears himself arguing on for hours if it means he can avoid the suggested treatment. This isn't how he prefers to use his lightsaber and the mere thought of it makes him ill to the bones. ]

I will help you. [ Not in the least because he wants to, but because he understands (on some level) where Anakin might have a point. ] On one condition: You will seek medical attention and you will heed the advice of the professionals in that regard.

[ That's the deal. Skywalker can take it or leave it. And, of course, as Kenobi knows, he'll take it. Because it's not an outrageous request like some recent suggestions. ]

Fine. I need a new arm put on anyway.

[It's scoffed in a way that suggests that it's either an obvious concession, or one he doesn't plan on heeding to its fullest. (Or both. Spoilers: it's both.) Maybe it's a rash decision. Maybe a week later they'll find some magic way to reverse this.

Somehow he doubts it. And in a week, it might already be fractured into pieces, deadly, or worse: it might spread. It's difficult to tell when the situation shouldn't even be possible, especially when on the Moira, it seems there's always worse around the next corner. It's always something.

He holds his arm out, wincing around the awkward weight and pain as he does so.]

Can we just do this so you can stop looking at me like I just asked you to kill someone?

Edited 2016-07-04 01:41 (UTC)

[ Stepping in, he takes Anakin's crystalline arm with his off hand and holds it carefully, relieving some of that heft from the scenario, allowing Anakin's stressed shoulder joint to rest a bit. In the well-lit room there's no missing the angry irritation where Skywalker's skin has been strained to its limit.

Kenobi's lightsaber snaps and sizzles into existence, its hum feeling particularly ominous to his ears. He looks at Anakin, altogether terrified of inflicting this pain, but determined nonetheless. ]

A clean cut. [ He's not sure who he's trying to remind; Anakin feels almost at peace with this. It is, perhaps, one last chance to allow Skywalker to change his mind. ]

[ And then, abruptly: ] Are you certain you wouldn't rather do this in the Med Bay?

Edited 2016-07-04 03:24 (UTC)

[He'd rather not have to do this at all, but Obi-Wan's own trepidation outweighs that, turns the fear into something else entirely. It's not that he welcomes the feeling; the memory of the cauterized limb has already started to itch--or maybe that's just there the unnatural bits of glass have lodged into his still-flesh stump. But this could get worse. And there's no telling what happens if it breaks while still attached when there's still glass floating through the filtration system in parts of the ship.

He rolls his eyes and nods abruptly. If it has to go, it's going on his terms. Something in all this ought to.]

I'm not spending any more time--look, if you want to make this a spectacle, be my guest. But can we just do it already? [A belayed, pleading look he hasn't pulled out since trying to get out of getting caught racing on the lower levels of Coruscant years ago.] ...Please?

[ Oh, Anakin. ]

Fine...

[ It isn't as if he doesn't understand. That look is so familiar it dredges up plenty of moments like this — although none so severe — where an idea feels like it might as well be the worst idea, but since it's Anakin's, he can't help but do all that he must to help.

It's a jarring experience for everyone involved, but the trust is implicit. Beyond that, leaving Anakin to do this himself feels not only cruel, but dangerous.

His grip tightens on the glass arm and he takes a long, deep breath and then closes his eyes to make the cut. It's done with surgical precision — the Force sees to that — but that doesn't eliminate the fact that he can't even look.

The glass arm dangles from one hand, angled similarly to the still humming lightsaber in his other hand. He waits for Anakin's reaction, for the pain he knows will echo back to another time and place.

I'm sorry. He promised he'd never hurt Anakin, not ever again. Even out of necessity, this feels like a betrayal of his oath hidden by a pragmatic disguise. ]

[There is a moment at first, short and almost not even there, where everything feels fine. Light, even. The dead weight is removed in an instant, and he doesn't feel anything at all.

He tries, in that same moment, to tell Obi-Wan so. Thank you. It's fine, I promise. But it's cut off within half a heartbeat when the searing pain follows. Nothing comes out where words should, and instead, his resulting heavy intake of air is audible and grotesquely desperate.

It should be Dooku's face he sees as he reaches out with that wrong arm, fails, and slides hard to his knees, but the only thing he can picture in the back of his mind, the only thing other than the pain is flame. So much of it that it stains the sky around him a sickly burnt orange.

The stump of his arm is both too light now, leaving him dizzy and disoriented, and it feels as if it's being held to the surface of an open flame, every nerve, tissue, muscle and bone ache together in terrible tandem. Anakin leans forward, pressing his forehead to Obi-Wan's knee as his eyes glaze over and back again, trying desperately to center himself. The Force around them crackles, and isn't sure hoe to react, whether to dull the pain or keep it present, and thus his consciousness comes and goes. It's not quite a state of medically-defined shock, but only barely.

This is describable in no other way than two simple words: instant regret.]

[ Whether he'd guessed or not — and guessed he had, with startling accuracy — Obi-Wan takes no pleasure in being right about this. It had be a spectacularly bad idea, a mad idea, but there's nothing left to do now beyond managing the aftermath.

Swiftly, deftly, the lightsaber is clipped on his belt without any necessary thought as Kenobi turns his attention to the man at his feet. He carefully cradles Anakin's head, fingers lost in loose curls, eager to placate the anguish with physical comfort, if only briefly. And then he dips into the Force and plies at the pain as best he can, doing all that he must to encourage those seared nerves to stop reporting their trauma.

It isn't much, but it'll have to do.

He places the severed arm aside and it's only then that his body acknowledges the smell Kenobi's otherwise been making a point to ignore. His stomach churns, his mouth turns sour. You would think after all these years something like this might feel easier, but it never has. With luck, it never will. ]

It's time to go, Anakin.

[ A flat calm. He entreats like he would a child — like he has with this child — but the man who dips down is more a soldier — pragmatic and reactionary — than the compassionate peacekeeper or a loving father or a loyal brother. And the man he brings back up with him, that he cradles like a child, hasn't ever been a child in all the ways that matter.

Even if it feels small, its lasting effects are vast and far-reaching. This is a big deal. ]

[Anakin nods and regrets that too. All he thinks he wants is to remain stationary for as long as possible. To sit here and will the pain away. It won't work--it never has worked--but the less he thinks about moving is less he has to consider how this once-again missing limb is supposed to work.

Or not work, as the case is now, but in trying to plan around how best to get up, how best to amble down to the Medbay, how Obi-Wan had probably been right (even if the Medbay was likely busy and pushing the limits of its capacity as-is), it only makes already searing pain sharper.

The pain softens for a few moments, not quite dead, but relieved, and he can feel Obi-Wan there. Not just that scant contact where Anakin is using him as a brace to keep his head on straight, but in there too. It's a comfort, that presence, where there shouldn't be any. If he'd already owed Kenobi for this--and of clearer mind, he'll insist he does--he does twice-over for this.

He swallows, and notices that his throat feels rough, as if he's vocalized the same yell his brain had instead of internalizing that desperate cry. He swallows back what pain he can, and focuses instead on any part of him but his arm. Pushes himself, with Obi-Wan's quiet help, back to unsteady feet.

He's so used to hugging to express gratitude in times like these--times the Order likes to point to as an indecent expression of emotion--but settles instead for the embrace he's given in return. A comfort he tries to project back and drown out however else he feels.

One step at a time, Skywalker. ~~(And there's the real embarrassment: screwing the walking part of this up.)~~]

[ It's starkly apparent this won't be happening again. Not so long as Obi-Wan lives, at least. For the skill required to wield it, a lightsaber is little more than a complicated tool to most, but for Obi-Wan — as with most Jedi — its an extension of self. To use it in this way feels wrong, unnatural, dishonorable.

But isn't that the case in any situation? Taking pieces of a droid is one thing, but pieces of a person? Kenobi's surprised he can justify it at all. And yet he does. Over and over again. ]

You'll want to let the others know where to find you.

[ It's hardly conversation, but it's still useful in distracting from the pain. And, in a way, it forces Anakin to do some part of the work in taking care of himself. That's really what it's become about, isn't it? Gently pressing the younger man to accept his value despite the future they're told to fear (and fear they do).

He pushes out into the hallway and feels the mercy of the empty deck looming before them. Another time of day and there would be many more questions to answer. ]

And I'll explain what happened — you won't have to worry about that, at least.

[ With any luck, Kenobi will avoid any rumors of violence between them by being proactive and straightforward with the truth, strange though it may be. ]

Thank you.

[It's said finally after another curt nod, breathy and sounding delirious. But he knows where he is, who he's with, what's just transpired: he's simply exhausted, and it's finally catching up with him in the form of fried nerves trying to sap any energy he has left to offer.

He might try to brush it off to allay his friend's concerns, but he knows better the weight of what he's asked him to do than he lets on. But what was it that he'd told Ahsoka when this all started, those few years ago? That's the reality of command. It might not be anyone's life on the line but their own right now, but right is right and pragmatism--what should be Obi-Wan's expertise more than his own--isn't ever pretty.

He's well aware that this is a big deal. He can practically feel himself getting kicked in the shins as Obi-Wan is berating himself for it. But--

I don't blame you for this.

If anyone is to blame for anything here, it's Dooku first, and their captor-captains second. The war wouldn't exist without Dooku's fundamental hand in it, dead or not. His arm wouldn't have been missing to begin with. They wouldn't have lost all those lives to a meaningless civil war. Wouldn't have complicated and twisted the Jedi Order into meaning something it had never been meant to stand for. And this situation making all of Dooku's aftermath worse wouldn't exist if it hadn't been for the Captains and their damnable machine, and some seemingly-misguided (and just as endless) quest to fix it.

None of this is your fault.

He's been trying to project that for weeks to little avail. However much he's meant that in his solitary darkness, he means it just as much, if not even more, now. Crazy idea or no, Anakin had been aware of what he was asking for.

He lets out a low hiss halfway down the corridor, feeling the strain in his legs trying to both keep him upright and ease some of the pain of one limb by aching in sympathy. His arm around Obi-Wan tightens in response. Beyond that--]

I will, I'll--

[--do as you say, which is a rare response, especially given how little of this has been about following his friend's recommendations. But he's right in that too. It shouldn't be on Obi-Wan to make his excuses for him. He's already been doing that for weeks. Once he's able to use the MID in any way that isn't with his nose, he'll make a point of contact. Or try, anyway.

(And just think very hard about it in some cases, but that will have to go unspoken).]

Edited 2016-07-05 01:41 (UTC)

[ There's no surprise to be registered. The fact that Anakin is willing to accept this caveat is proof enough that he's moving in the right direction. Whether or not Kenobi was right all along means very little in that regard — only that Skywalker is getting the help he needs, and that maybe he'll think twice next time. (Unlikely, but even a Jedi can pin his hopes on the stars every once in a while).

When the young man falters, Obi-Wan picks up the slack by offering over that much more of his strength. Perhaps this will mean Anakin rests — perhaps this means he'll sleep since he hasn't in some time.

At the lift, he lets out a long breath and tries to ignore the sympathy pain, its phantom presence burning at his limb like an encompassing brand. ]

You'll call me if you need me.

[ An added stipulation, one that he doesn't expect Anakin to argue with either.

The doors open and he starts them forward again, their destination not far off, his focus sharp. They don't have that much farther to go, but already his senses are telling him Medical is busy even at this time of night. ]

[He nods again and this time he feels a little less dizzy doing so. Either he's hitting the maximum threshold of pain, or Kenobi's support is helping more than he'd expected. He's no complaint either way, though Obi-Wan will find himself plenty fussed over when this is all done.]

You're not hard to find.

[He gives a laugh and that definitely sounds delirious.]

Find me a chair, a new arm, some sleep, and I'll do whatever you want.

Edited 2016-07-05 04:48 (UTC)

[ Despite his concern, Kenobi laughs as well, mostly because he doesn't want Anakin to think he's worried. The delirium he's seen before, the injury, too, but in combination it's doubly distressing. ]

I'll provide all three.

[ He offers over a tight smile and then concentrates on those last few steps to the medical unit. As the doors swish open, he catches a glimpse of Ahsoka. At least she hasn't gone and chopped off any of her offending parts... just yet. ]

And company to boot. [ He gestures, pointing out Anakin's Padawan on their way to the empty bed next to her. ] Aren't you fortunate. [ It's a statement, and hardly rhetorical. Having Tano as company will likely ensure that Anakin stays (at least for a little while). ]

[He doesn't catch the meaning right away, far too focused on the bed and not moving. Just as much as he had as he'd leaned into Obi-Wan's leg, he really, really likes the idea of not moving.

(~~Give him some painkillers, and he might argue the point.~~)

He leans back into the bed, practically relishing it, despite its discomfort (they've had worse) and the fact that it's in the medical bay, and then those words click.]

Ahsoka?!

[Anakin bolts upright, wide-eyed, and the Force screams that pain for all he doesn't, a miracle when all it does is garner a grimace instead. It's a furious jolt, but not important right now.]

[Ahsoka had put off going to the Medbay as long as she could. She wasn't in pain, but having her montrals and lekku turned to glass was the most unnerving thing. Even in she could use the Force for basically the same thing, that lack of a sense was the most numbing feeling.

So she finally sucked it up, paying the Medbay a visit. Even if they couldn't fix it, maybe they could do something to help, maybe strengthen them so the horns didn't shatter.

It was while she was waiting that the doors opened, and the all too familiar men entered in.]

-- Master!? [She's on her feet in seconds, her eyes huge as she takes in the whole scene. Anakin looks in agony, his arm was gone--

She looks between Anakin and Obi-Wan as she aids the younger onto the bed, a million questions on the tip of her tongue. But she can't even decide where to begin. How? Who? Why? Finally, her gaze lands on Obi-Wan, because she's not even sure what good asking Anakin will be while he's in this state. He looks like he's barely keeping it together as it is.]

What happened??

He asked me to cut off his arm.

[ It's Obi-Wan's typical even words that make it sound like he has his shit together. Sadly, that's not really the case. Dismembering Anakin is most definitely at the top of his list of things he'd like to forget. ]

It was affected by the ship — turned to glass, as you can imagine.

[ Please don't ask him to do something crazy, Ahsoka. He still has hope that you won't take risks for the sake of convenience. ]

I'll send over the medic if you'll stay with him...

I don't need a medic, I need a--!

[The protestation, which is little more than a deluded fancy of pride in someone who assuredly does not have his shit together on any plane, is cut off suddenly with a sharp intake of air that he can't avoid when the pain of sitting up finally catches him. Oh, I did not miss this.]

Honestly, I'm--

[He's not fine. But that too gets cut off when he finally gets a solid look at his Padawan, and instead of a sharp breath, he stops breathing altogether. Oh, no.]

Does it hurt?

-- and you did?! [Obi-Wan why?? She has no words. Honestly. And here she thought Obi-Wan was the one with the most sense among them. Even if it was turned to glass, it was a really dumb thing to do-- especially not under medical watch.]

Even so, that was really dangerous, you two. What if something had gone wrong??

[Okay, she's done with mom mode. She'll take a deep breath, then nod as Obi-Wan offers to go get the medic.]

Yeah, of course. I'll stay. Go find this idiot some help. [She's calling him that affectionately, of course. And she gives him a small smile at his question, hoping talking to him will distract him from his own pain.]

Not really? It's more...numb, if anything? And that's just because I can't sense anything like normal. It's like I'm in a void or something. [Thank the Maker for the Force, otherwise she'd lose her mind right about now.]

[Anakin watches Obi-Wan go with a detached sort of acknowledgement. Unadmitted, he would do an awful lot of sordid things for pain medication right now, wouldn't even complain about them until afterward, even for all his whining that he doesn't need them.

This is the reason he hadn't wanted to bring Ahsoka into this. Trying to appear the voice of reason, a font of strength, even when he's neither, is something he'd told himself from the beginning of all this that he wouldn't forget.

And yet over and over again, it falters. How is he supposed to teach her anything if he keeps breaking down like this?

He bites back a hiss of pain as he reaches out to her with the hand he still possesses. Swallow it, she doesn't need to see more of this than she has to.]

We'll fix this. I promise we'll fix this.

[What he doesn't realize is he is teaching her. He may not see it, but she considers him the strongest person she knows (who else would cut off their own arm?? Or carry on-- even if it was a struggle-- after learning the dark secrets of his future?). She knows he isn't perfect, but neither is she, and that's why they work. They get each other.

Without question, she takes his hand, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance. She doesn't know if it will help, but she hopes it does.]

I know we will. But that can wait. We need to get you fixed up first.

[The gesture is centering enough to keep him the right side of focused, and it's times like these that he wonders if he isn't learning more from her instead. This level of affection shouldn't be, an intensity borne by situational traumas and Anakin's own inability to let go, and it's a heresy, he knows it is. But she seems to care as little as he does, and barely even makes a show of it. It simply is.

Were he more cognizant, that might have formed into a compliment. Right now, all he can do is take comfort in it. In her remarkably humbling gesture.]

You too. I don't like any of us being breakable.

[Force, how much of that is the pain talking?]

Me either. [She's too much like him, the way she struggles with how much she cares, how much she worries. She knows better, she knows she's supposed to let go and let what happens happen. But it wasn't so easily done as said.

But her train of thought is interrupted as the Medbay staff finally comes to his aid, tending to his arm, and more importantly, administering pain medications.

Ahsoka gave his hand one last squeeze, then returned to her spot at the bedside right next to him.]

Get some rest, Master. I'll be right here.

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sorry for the delaaay

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wanted to wrap it up <3