Stiffly with practically mechanical movements, Obi-Wan continued dressing himself, tucking his tunic and carefully wrapping the sash as his mind kept repeating the words of the medic.

Potentially unable to bear cubs.

Potentially infertile thanks to injury.

Potentially risk of severe trauma to body if he should become pregnant.

Potential high risk of miscarriage.

The words, he understood them, but they refused to sink in.

Hell, Qui-Gon and Anakin had both been there, holding a hand each as the medic nervously explained to Obi-Wan what the injuries had done to his body.

Thanks to bacta, externally, there were no injuries but his insides…

Obi-Wan had taken damage, his body knew it even if the evidence were gone and he had no idea what to do with the information he now had. He had, occasionally, thought about cubs.

When Anakin laughed or the sun shone over his wavy hair, Obi-Wan had thought about cubs with the same bright laugh or halo like hair, with wide eyes and freckles over their faces.

He had thought about the swell of his belly, of Anakin’s hands resting on it, about the stretchmarks he’d have to carry afterward, about how his body would change and how Anakin might react to it all.

All those thoughts were now scattered.

Because Obi-Wan’s body might not be able to handle even one pup, might not even allow for a pregnancy at all.

And what was worse, his body not conceiving at all or losing the fetus if he did become pregnant.

The door to the medical room opened, interrupting his thoughts and Obi-Wan turned towards it, his neck still too stiff from the crash to turn his head alone.

In the doorway, Qui-Gon stood, smiling sadly with a blue blanket over his arm that Obi-Wan would normally ask where the other had gotten from. “I see you’re almost done dressing.” He stated, a tad unnecessarily but Obi-Wan still nodded in agreement, watching tiredly as his master came over.

The alpha peered down at him, glancing over the items he was wearing, most likely taking stock.

Very few of their things had survived the crash, Obi-Wan’s belt and boots had been destroyed, burned in the crash but his tunic had survived and Anakin had loaned him a pair of pants since the blond alpha’s things had survived.

Qui-Gon on the other hand was still wearing the same outfit as he had crashed in, holes in the tunic exposing it even if the blood had been washed away. The older Jedi had lost everything except what he had on him.

Opening his mouth when the silence started to become unbearable, Obi-Wan let out a startled noise as Qui-Gon wrapped the blue blanket around the omega’s shoulders, carefully tucking it around him until it was fully wrapped around Obi-Wan.

And as the alpha did, Obi-Wan’s breath hitched because from the blanket, the scent of Qui-Gon and Anakin rose, wrapping him in the comfort of those he trusted, his pack.

The blanket itself was warm already and soft, made of some sort of wool that felt comforting against what exposed skin it touched.

The two must have rubbed it against their own skin to soak the scents in and Obi-Wan felt his breath come out in a little keening whine that instantly had Qui-Gon wrapping his arms around him, the other moving his injured arm gingerly, still sore even if he no longer wore the sling.

“I can’t carry you… but you can still be a comfort blanket burrito pup.” Qui-Gon whispered into his ear, holding around him carefully.

Shuddering, Obi-Wan pressed into his master’s warm chest, the scent of his future mate and his master wrapped around him, silently crying, overwhelmed and exhausted.