Throwing
the tent flaps open with panicked wide eyes, Anakin frenetically
around before landing on Obi-Wan sitting on a bed with Plo beside
him, the 104^th
medic carefully dabbing cream to a darkening throat.

Several
bacta patches were already on the others face and his right eye was
covered in a little clear plastic shield with what seemed like cotton
on the inside.

“Obi-Wan!”
He called out, prompting Obi-Wan to open his good eye and let out a
noise as he watched Anakin march over.

“Ani.”
He rasped on in response only to wince and reach up, Plo grasping his
hands quickly with the medic only a hair behind.

Shaking
his head, Plo pressed Obi-Wan’s hands back to the others lap. “Do
not touch that young one, let the cream work… your throat will be
swollen for several days I’m sorry to say.” He added quietly
before turning his head in Anakin’s direction to explain what had
happened.

Obi-Wan
meanwhile closed his eye once more and took comfort in the familiar,
grounding touch and closeness of his old master, remembering a time
when Plo had been everything to him.

Been
the safety and the love that young Obi-Wan had needed when he had
come away bruised and damaged from Olliander Shkma in those first few
weeks, traumatized and leery of trusting adults once more.

Flinching
at raised hands in his space until he learned that Shakma was not the
rule but the exception in behavior.

A
warm human hand grasped his left one and Obi-Wan squeezed it, letting
out a rasping noise as the medic pulled back only for the space to be
crowded by Anakin. “That’s all I can do now Generals, the bruises
will have to naturally heal from here on though the bacta will take
care of the cuts easily. The bone knitter did its job with the ankle
however it will be sore for a few days,” The medic murmured, but
Obi-Wan kept his eye close and opted to just listen, his head
pounding. “As for General Kenobi’s eye, I’ve coated it with a
healing solution and as long as its kept covered he will have no
lasting damage. We’ll need to redrip it tomorrow and the day after
but you shouldn’t suffer any permanent damage sir.”

He
felt Plo incline his head. “Thank
you Dasher, your aid is impeccable as always my boy.” He murmured
calmly, his voice reverberating through Obi-Wan with how much he was
pressed to the others side as the clawed hand carefully squeezed
Obi-Wan’s hand in reassurance.

The
Force lit up with the medics glowing happiness at the praise but
Obi-Wan let his focus be on Anakin, letting his head fall forward to
rest his forehead against the others chest and letting out a tiny
noise when the arm came up around him.

“How
do you feel?” Anakin asked worriedly, the words echoing a bit in
Obi-Wan’s head as he pressed a bit closer, as if hiding would make
the situation go away.

It
wouldn’t, it had never done it before and it wouldn’t now.

“…Stupid.
He said he wanted to apologize.” Obi-Wan mumbled bitterly. He had
just wanted so badly for the other to… be sorry. To actually
apologize and mean it but of course that wasn’t really what
Olliander had wanted and Obi-Wan felt so stupid for still somehow
wanting that.

The
arm around him tightened and so did the leathery hand holding his.

“Little
one…” Plo murmured heavily and Obi-Wan’s chest constricted,
wanting to defend himself but finding no words. Then he just hiccuped
when Plo wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. “Oh Little
one, you’ll be alright.” He murmured, his tone still heavy as he
cupped the back of Obi-Wan’s head.

Hands
fisting into Plo’s tunic, Obi-Wan shuddered, wondering if one ever
really got over the trauma in ones youth as
Anakin pressed his hand to the redhead’s back, both of them
providing their silent support.