Archive of Our Own

This was, admittedly, not one of their best moments.

That was, getting the three of them--Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka--all captured by the Separatists at once. Three Jedi for the price of one, a droid had joked, before getting knocked the fuck flat out via Anakin's boot directly in its chestplate. The droid holding his cuffed arms had hit him with the stun rod for that, but he did actually manage to do some damage there, even without the Force, which he was proud of, so it was worth it.

The fight had started as they always did: someone showed up to ambush them, they responded, somebody ended up on somebody else's ship (usually the Jedi on the Separatist vessels, he noted sullenly), and then there was a great fight and maybe a dramatic extended escape, and then they parted ways, hopefully with minor casualties. Wash, rinse, repeat.

This time, they had somehow bungled the boarding--yet another case of the docking tube breaking off as someone or the other drifted in space from somebody's (read: not his) order to take off. They'd ended up stranded on the Separatist craft, well and truly surrounded, with no clone support. Don't get him wrong, Anakin was glad the clones weren't here to more than likely be getting a face full of Seppie blast fire, but the three of them vs. what was an entire ship-full of droids bearing down on them at once was--okay, it was still pretty good odds. At least to him. They were Jedi, and it's not like they hadn't faced worse, and they had each other--Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan always worked best with each other at their backs. But it only took one mistake to quickly lose control of a situation.

Anakin was not very proud to say that the mistake had been his. It was one of his typical moves--recklessness based on skill, teamwork, and luck.

But he’d stumbled in the fight. A stray blast had skimmed him, almost nailing him in the back, and he’d jumped away. He hadn’t been injured, but it’d been enough to jostle him. And Ahsoka and Obi-Wan had been busy, if for only a moment, with their own fighting. And luck had not been on his side today, it appeared.

One of those bigfuck droids had hit him in the flank with an electrostaff and he'd dropped and he'd been swarmed, and oh, he'd taken out half the ones who immediately ran on top of him, but there were always more droids. That was the problem.

Very soon he'd ended up on his knees with a blaster to his neck and an ultimatum in the air and well. They worked best when they were together. That was their strength and their flaw. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had surrendered immediately.

That was how they'd ended up on this metal heap surrounded by walking metal heaps, chained with Force-suppressing cuffs around the same singular bar in a holding cell (Anakin guessed they didn't have those fancy floaty freezing dais thingies here on a second-rate Separatist ship), waiting, on their way no doubt to Dooku's headquarters.

Jedi didn't answer to ransoming. Dooku knew that. Whatever was planned for them was no good.

And the really insulting thing, Anakin thought, was that Grievous or Ventress hadn't even been there. They'd lost to a bunch of regular fucking battle droids. Unbelievable

Obi-Wan was somehow calm through all of this, as he usually was, damn him. After the surrender, he'd taken the lead to answering and asking questions as they were being locked in place. Anakin was still kind of peeved by not being frozen in those floaty things. Was he not good enough for them? Did they not take him seriously enough? Next time he was captured by the Separatists--well, actually he just hoped that didn’t happen again. He was very tired of being taken prisoner. And having to escape being taken prisoner again.

Obi-Wan interrupted his internal sulking. "Where are we being taken," he'd demanded more than asked.

"Jail cell, duh," a droid said colorfully.

Anakin couldn't see Obi-Wan from his angle, with the three of them facing outward from the central bar with their hands being locked above their heads, but he could hear the eyeroll he knew his Master was utilizing. The restraints on the ceiling had several places spaced out in a circle to hold prisoners, and from the sound of his voice, Obi-Wan was behind Anakin, facing the opposite direction, to Ahsoka's right.

"No, where, as in, where is this ship going now?"

Likewise, he could hear the droid scratching its head. "Oh, uh. I dunno, to Dooku? That's above my paygrade."

"Thank you, very helpful," Obi-Wan said drily.

“You’re welcome,” the droid said at the same time that another one interjected from Anakin’s right, "We don't get paid, though.”

"Oh, yeah!" the original one said. "Should we do something about that?"

"Start a union," Obi-Wan responded sarcastically.

"Shut up, Jedi scum. Your mind tricks won't work on us." There was a change in sound, like the droid moved its head to the side to face the other droid. "Should we start a union?"

Anakin tried very hard not to smile at that, but his mouth still twitched. They were the enemy. They weren't allowed to be cute.

"Nahhhh," came another robotic voice from somewhere else in the room. They all appeared to accept that, seeing as no more discussion on the topic continued. The final clicks and rattles of all their cuffs being tested sounded through the room and they began to file out, one by one.

"Wait," Obi-Wan said, pulling against his restraints and making them clink. "I want to know--"

"Eh, bite me," one of them said, and then Ahsoka laughed. She immediately cut it off, but it was there. He could feel his Master's chagrin through the Force and oh, it did make this situation a little more bearable.

The door sealed shut, and the room echoed with the kind of hollow ear-hurting silence you could only find in a sealed metal room.

"Bit rude," Obi-Wan grumbled. "Their programming didn't used to be so uncouth."

"Is that the only thing you find uncouth about this situation, Master?" Anakin asked, rattling his cuffs for emphasis.

He only received a sigh in response.

Anakin repressed the urge himself. It was gonna be a long wait.

It was, indeed, a long wait. He always hated the boredom of being captured. Sitting in one spot, getting sore from being tied in place, unable to escape or fight or even just pace, forced into agitated stillness. Anakin hated it.

Ahsoka hated it, too, he knew. She already didn't like sitting around and waiting, and spending years as his Padawan hadn't exactly lent itself to her being scolded for her restlessness. Thankfully, Obi-Wan was around often enough to try to drill that lesson when it was required into both of them. Somehow it'd been more effective on Ahsoka than him, though.

Ahsoka had spent several hours trying to shake her cuffs off, using the restraints as a sort of handle to flip herself over and up and hang in the air, examining them. Because of her height, the droids had had to lower hers further than Anakin's or Obi-Wan’s; there was potential for a weakness to be exposed there that she could exploit and break off. Each time she'd sat suspended for minutes at a time, audibly fumbling and trying to kick at them. Each time she'd had to momentarily admit defeat and lower herself back down to the ground, breathing hard from effort and no-doubt dizziness of blood rushing to her head.

Anakin had given it a shot himself, desperate and angry enough to try, but he was too tall. He could still manage to flip himself over and hold himself there fine, but he had to brace his feet against the ceiling to do it, and there was no good angle or leverage in that position to hit at his restraints, not unless he wanted to risk breaking his wrist, too.

At one point Ahsoka had given up on striking carefully and just used the point of contact to pull herself as hard as she could as fast as she could and use the momentum to kick with all her power. It was kind of impressive, Anakin thought whenever he looked back over his shoulder at her to see her progress. If it were anybody else other than the Separatists, he figured she'd have been freed by now.

As it was, Ahsoka didn't succeed at anything other than exhausting herself. She fell back down with a frustrated huff yet again, followed by the slam of her boots back on the ground.

"It was a good try, my dear," Obi-Wan offered comfortingly.

So far Obi-Wan had been mostly silent except for helpful tips when either of them brought up an idea for how to escape. He'd suggested Anakin talk Ahsoka through her examinations of the restraints, see if Anakin could figure out where the metal links and bars and joins would be weakest for Ahsoka to smash. It had been a good idea--would've worked if they hadn't been using something stronger than a Jedi's average, non-Force-boosted kicks.

He hated Force-suppressing cuffs.

He figured his Master was saving his energy and preparing thoughts of fallback plans for whatever eventual less-than-ideal situation they’d find themselves in soon. Anakin himself had been stewing, mostly--too angry and restless to sit calmly, too proud and disciplined to struggle against his cuffs helplessly. What he wanted to do was wait until a droid walked back in and he got another chance to kick the shit out of it, but that wasn't likely nor very Jedi-like of him.

At one point his frustration had started to boil over badly enough that he started projecting apparently, because Obi-Wan sent him a chiding and very pointed nudge of calm, urging him to relax.

He had, huffing and closing his eyes and attempting something like peaceful meditation to clear his mind. At least more peaceful than preparing to stomp the first droid he saw in the face.

And that was how they'd stayed, for hours, until Anakin's internal sense of time told him it must be night now. Or at least, what passed for night on crafts in space. The three of them had settled down, realizing they might not be getting out of here today, and that they might as well get some rest, or as close as they could to it. Sleeping standing up while captive was not a skill Anakin had acquired yet, despite his experience with being abducted so far, but he did try to meditate through it anyway. He knew he needed the rest, and little rest was better than none. He wasn't sure if Obi-Wan was actually sleeping or just meditating deeply, but he felt the deep well of blank serenity coming from his Master and tried to pull from it, inhaling carefully and gathering his thoughts to him and letting them go. It worked, for a while.

Eventually, though, he couldn't focus anymore, too much pent-up restlessness itching in him again, and he came back to awareness, spending the next several hours boredly counting lines in the metal ceiling above him.

He was nearly considering trying to break his restraints again when his senses picked up on something nearby. Not a noise--but close. The kind of deep vibration that was nearly a sound anyway, from what you could feel from it. Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Headed their way.

"Hey," he said. "I think we got company."

Obi-Wan roused himself with a long inhale through his nose, apparently rolling his shoulders with a loud crack. "What is it?"

Ahsoka sighed from beside him, sounding like she'd actually been sleeping. "Can't it wait? Is it even day yet?"

Probably not, but it's not like droids slept. "There are footsteps," Anakin said. "Nearby. Not the usual droids."

There was silence as the other two Jedi in the room strained their ears.

"I don't hear anything," Ahsoka said.

"That's what concerns me," Anakin said grimly, tightening his hands around the metal of his restraints in anticipation. There was only one person he knew that had the control and the grace to make such inherently heavy footsteps go totally silent.

Ahsoka sat up, sounding more alert, and Obi-Wan said nothing, but Anakin could feel his focus. Anakin knew he caught his meaning.

Finally he sensed the footsteps stop in the hallway outside the door to their cell. Anakin inhaled deeply. He was the closest to the door, the one facing the entrance, and he'd see whoever entered first.

The woosh of the door panel sliding broke the oppressive silence in the air.

"Grievous," Anakin hissed, unhappy he’d been right.

There in the doorway was General Grievous, standing tall and straight at nearly his full height for once. He wore his cape today, heavy red cloth draping over his skeletal figure and dragging on the floor, covering almost all of him except for his head and the break in fabric where his arm had shot out of the confines to press the release on the control panel.

He was silent, staring into the room with eerie stillness, yellow eyes nearly glowing in the dim lighting.

Ahsoka inhaled in surprise to his right and Anakin instinctively angled his body defensively, hoping since he was in front, Grievous would only focus on him. Obi-Wan remained silent behind him.

"What do you want?" Anakin demanded. Grievous wasn't even supposed to be here, this wasn't his ship. Had the Captain of this one contacted him and informed him of the three different Jedi captured? The droid had said they were (probably) being taken to Dooku. Were they being released into Grievous's custody instead? But there were no more droids behind Grievous to collect them, he had come alone. That didn't bode well. Had Grievous come to taunt them personally, or kill them himself?

Grievous met his gaze, brief and heavy, and ignored his question, making his way in the room. The door slid shut behind him automatically.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, clanker."

That got him a snort at least, but the Separatist General continued past him, heading around his side to the left. Anakin was relieved he wasn't going for Ahsoka.

But, now, Obi-Wan--

"Hello there, General," Obi-Wan greeted conversationally behind him and, strangely, somewhat timidly. He sounded unsure, like… not like he was afraid, despite the obvious context, but... nervous? It was weird. Anakin couldn't place it.

"Kenobi," the cyborg answered, in the same intonation as always.

"Fancy meeting you here," Obi-Wan said slyly.

Grievous didn't answer.

Anakin tensed hard, waiting to see what Grievous would do next. He didn't like this, not one bit. Nothing about this late night visit felt natural or right.

There was a sound of movement, then a loud buzz. A lightsaber, Anakin realized distantly.

"No!" he shouted, pulling on his restraints as hard as he could, dignity or chance of freedom be damned. He couldn't sit here and let Grievous do whatever he was going to do with that lightsaber, he couldn't.

He heard Ahsoka yelling too, through his haze of sudden, sharp fear, and then the sound of the distinct whirr as a lightsaber was whisked through the air--

Anakin's brain rushed to the worst, his nightmares and greatest horrors brought to life, Obi-Wan slain mere feet from him by his nemesis as Anakin screamed and sat by, helpless. He struggled against the cuffs madly, trying desperately to call on the Force despite the uselessness of that, he had to--he had to--

And then a clink, as something metal fell to the ground.

There was a sigh of relief that stilled all the frantic movements of both Padawan and Grandpadawan. "Thank you, my dear," came Obi-Wan's voice, tired but clear and him and not dead and Anakin almost cried in relief, until his brain caught up to the situation and he--

Grievous was releasing him?

Was it actually a prisoner transfer? Or some sort of game Grievous was initiating because he wanted to play with his food? Maybe he was just releasing only Obi-Wan to drag him off personally to his own ship, to have his fun tormenting and killing his nemesis his own way, in his own prison. That sounded like him.

But before Anakin could get too worked up on his fears, he heard a familiar "Here," and another buzz and click. He turned to see Obi-Wan with his own lightsaber back, releasing a startled looking Ahsoka. She began to rub her wrists, looking baffled, when he felt something else--the air shifting in front of him. He looked up to see General Grievous, totally motionless, staring at him.

He had never met Grievous face to face before. He was proud to say he kept his composure as the seven-foot-tall, deathly quiet, hulking, metal monster stood before him, not breaking eye contact once as he took out a lightsaber and slashed at Anakin's bonds expertly. (Anakin did flinch a little there. It was instinct. That didn’t count.)

He was surprised yet again when Grievous suddenly produced another lightsaber--his lightsaber--from among his cloak, and held it out silently.

Was this a joke? Was he dreaming? There was no way this wasn't a trick. But Anakin couldn't figure out how.

Regardless, he took it after a moment of hesitation, snatching it away from Grievous's metal grip. He glared solidly up at the robot-man. Grievous didn't give an inch, despite the heat in his gaze, and that was infuriating--and so was the way that, in the second between Anakin powering his lightsaber on and swinging, he leapt back harmlessly.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan yelled, with the same tone of voice as when he used to scold Anakin for talking back to Jedi Masters, like he was misbehaving somehow. Anakin's shock nearly skyrocketed into hysterical confusion.

"Is your Padawan always so ungrateful?" the cyborg rumbled sardonically. It took Anakin a second to realize he wasn't talking to him, despite the fact he still hadn't broken eye contact.

Obi-Wan sighed, coming back into Anakin's line of view, with Ahsoka at his heels who was looking just as wary as Anakin felt. "Unfortunately, yes." He gave Anakin a look, meeting his eyes only briefly, but Anakin could tell from it that--that whatever was going on here, Grievous was meant to be their ally.

"What the hell is going on," Anakin said slowly, trying very hard to not break down into hysterics on the spot.

"I am helping you escape," said Grievous in his modulated voice, and then pulled two more lightsabers out of his cloak, and handed them to Obi-Wan, who gave them to Ahsoka.

"Yes, clearly, I can see that--" Anakin snapped. "What I mean is why."

Grievous didn't answer him, opting instead to turn to Obi-Wan, who shrugged and continued to ignore the question. "Come on," his former Master said, waving all of them forward. "We have to go."

"Ventress will be here in 15 minutes," Grievous added, falling into line beside Obi-Wan.

"We have to go quickly," Obi-Wan amended.

"No," Anakin exclaimed, catching up to Obi-Wan's side as he opened the door and looked out to see if anyone was nearby. "You are not just gonna ignore me like that. What the hell is going on, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan turned to glare at him. "What's going on is we're getting out of here. I'll answer any questions you want after we're out of the Separatist spaceship and clear of running into one angry Asajj Ventress."

Anakin wanted to point out the fact that they were currently in danger of running into one angry General Grievous, but he held his tongue because he didn't think Obi-Wan would see it that way for some reason.

He shared a helpless look with Ahsoka, who was staying well out of the way of Grievous on Obi-Wan's right. He couldn't blame her, that was where he would prefer her, but it meant he was on Obi-Wan's left, directly in front of Grievous who was pausing, standing outside the doorway before making his way down the corridor.

Obi-Wan rushed to follow him, and Anakin and Ahsoka followed, unhappily.

They made their way through the corridors mostly silently, avoiding droids and sneaking down unused passages. Grievous led them, seeming to know the layout, which made sense, of course he would know how these ships were designed and how they were used.

"So," Anakin started by the 11th hallway they were peeking around. It was a comical lineup they had, Grievous standing in the middle of the cross section acting as an early warning, Obi-Wan hanging around the edge of the corner as guard, Anakin pressed behind him, and Ahsoka trailing up their rear, keeping an eye out for any surprises following them. "Anyone want to explain why we're teaming up with General Clanker?"

"I'm not a droid," Grievous said from the hallway, finally stepping forward, and not even bothering to wave them through to signal it was clear before they followed. "So your insult does not apply to me."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Anakin whispered sarcastically. "Would you prefer I find a better one?"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan warned, following his--ally? Friend? Was Obi-Wan having secret illicit dealings with one of the highest ranking and well-known figures of the Separatist army?

"Don't 'Anakin' me, this whole situation is fucked,” Anakin snapped.

Ahsoka hummed her agreement from behind him as they dashed through the halls.

Anakin stuttered in his running. "Are you a Separatist?" he accused wildly, baffled, not really believing that but not sure what else to conclude from this turn of events.

"Am I a--a Separatist?!" Obi-Wan sputtered, looking truly taken aback.

Grievous laughed from ahead of them for the first time, one of his deep, quiet, hehehe's. Anakin almost shortcircuited at the realization he'd just made General Grievous laugh.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” Anakin flailed, catching up with them again as they came to another stop, Grievous once again scouting ahead, this time even further. Maybe they were getting close to their destination, finally.

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. “No, I’m not a Separatist.” He turned his head back to meet Anakin’s eyes properly. "Trust me," he said. "I know what I'm doing." His eyes were sincere, as they always were, and he looked--confident. Certain.

Anakin did trust him. If Obi-Wan was so sure then... Anakin did trust him. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

He sighed, loudly. "Fine." He looked back to Ahsoka to see her watching the whole interaction as well, eyes intent on their faces, particularly Anakin's. He gave her an eyeroll and a shrug. "Guess this is what we're doing, Snips." He said it jokingly, but his eyes were serious on hers. He tried to convey his thoughts through their bond--it was okay. It was safe, if confusing. For now.

He felt her anxiety lessen and saw her shoulders relax a little. She nodded, turning to look back at the hallway ahead of them. Grievous had returned.

"This way," the cyborg said.

They followed him around another corner and then finally their destination appeared before them: the escape pods.

"Do these even work?" Ahsoka asked doubtfully, "Do robots even need escape pods?"

"Grievous does," Anakin supplied cheerfully as Obi-Wan rushed to the control panel in front of one of them while Grievous stood guard a little ways away. "He uses them all the time."

Grievous turned his head at that to glare, eyes narrowed scornfully.

"Quiet," Obi-Wan murmured thoughtfully, focused on programming settings for the pod. "Both of you."

"I didn't--" Grievous started.

Obi-Wan interrupted him. "You were going to. Now shush. Grievous, help me with this."

The cyborg made a grumbling noise but obliged, walking up beside Obi-Wan and leaning over the controls as well. Anakin tried hardily to ignore how comfortable they both seemed to be in such close contact.

"How is this going to work?" Anakin asked, pacing away and taking up Grievous's job of standing guard, just for something to do. "Aren't we in hyperspace?"

"Not for long," Grievous answered from where he had apparently taken over the panel. Obi-Wan hadn't moved, however, and just stood watching him, seemingly trusting him to handle it. "I will order us to stop, as I did to board. That way you can get away without issue.”

Anakin pursed his lips, and caught Ahsoka’s eye. He saw the same question in her eyes. He turned back to the duo standing side by side. “When did you get on board? And why?”

Obi-Wan watched him, arms loosely hugging his middle, but said nothing in reproach. Anakin figured it was as good a time as any for questions since they were, at least momentarily, less occupied. Apparently Obi-Wan didn’t disagree, at least not enough to scold him again.

“I was in the area,” Grievous said distractedly. “I was informed of your capture last night. I rushed to meet the ship before it got to its destination. As did Ventress.” The last part was hissed, with an upwards glance that was less than subtle.

“Yes, yes, we get it, gotta go now,” Anakin snarked, dismissively waving his hand. “But why--”

He was interrupted by the cyborg slamming his hand into the hull wall, loudly. “Dammit!"

Both Anakin and Ahsoka jumped, hands instantly going to their lightsabers and powering them on instinct.

"What?" both he and Obi-Wan demanded in unison, though Anakin’s was notably more angry than alarmed.

"The pods--they are disabled!" Grievous complained, leaning away from the controls in frustration and tossing his head to the side with a vicious movement that looked like he'd rather be slashing something with his lightsabers.

"What? Why?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I told you," Ahsoka muttered, unpowering her lightsaber along with him but still eyeballing Grievous cautiously.

"I don't know," Grievous answered Obi-Wan. "They are not disabled on my ship."

"Yeah, I wonder why that is," Anakin said venomously.

Obi-Wan held up a hand to stop them when Grievous took an angry step forward and Anakin slipped into an automatic fighting stance. "Can't you just re-able them?"

"Not from here," Grievous intoned. He sounded anxious, though Anakin didn't understand why.

"So let's go where you can,” Anakin bit off. He was liking this less and less.

The cyborg's head swivelled and he pinned Anakin with a look, and made a sound that Anakin knew if he still had a nose would have had his nostrils flaring. "I can't. They can't be rerouted. It can only be fixed from the main deck."

Anakin's frustration was building. "Then go fix it!"

"If I go they will notice me doing it. They'll realize."

"You were just about to ask them to drop out of hyperspace for us."

"That's different, Skywalker." The way Grievous made his own name sound like an insult was truly impressive, but unfortunately for him, Anakin was used to people doing that.

"I get it," Obi-Wan said.

"You do?" Anakin asked, whirling on him.

"Managing the way the ship flies--albeit unexpected or strangely--is not enough to cause concern. But as Ahsoka said--droids don't use escape pods. Grievous trying to reinitiate them will bring suspicion. They'll be able to figure out what we're doing."

Anakin threw his hands up. "Why is he even helping us to begin with?"

"Anakin, I said--" Obi-Wan started, and was cut off by Ahsoka--probably for the best.

"So what do we do?" She looked around warily, like she didn't trust droids not to come barging down on their position at any moment. Anakin wasn't sure he trusted that either.

Obi-Wan sighed. "The hangar. They must have a ship we can use."

"There's too many droids there," Grievous said. "And we are looking to avoid a fight."

Anakin opened his mouth to say We are? but Ahsoka beat him to a response. "Yeah, and that's where we got captured to begin with. There's not enough cover there."

Obi-Wan lifted a hand to his chin, stroking his beard contemplatively. “Hm.”

Grievous looked to him. “What?”

Obi-Wan looked up, almost distractedly, and shook his head. “I’m not sure but... I may have an idea."

Oh no. Anakin knew that voice. This wasn't gonna be good.

Anakin sighed, strapped his saber back to his belt, and bit the bullet. "What is it?"

"I don't like this," Anakin muttered from behind the stack of crates. They'd snuck into the hangar and were now peeking over the edge as droids milled about the area, to and fro. Anakin wasn't even sure if they were doing any work, or just ambling.

"Nobody likes it, Skywalker," Grievous grumbled to his far left, next to Obi-Wan.

"Shut up," Obi-Wan said lightly. "You have the easiest part of us all."

Grievous growled and hunched his shoulders defensively, but settled down.

"Why do we have to do it this way?" Anakin complained again, just to be difficult.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I already told you, Anakin. We don't want to involve more droids in this, and Grievous can't hold us all. Backtracking will waste too much time which we don't have with Ventress on her way. And out of the three of us, I'm the most believable option."

"You mean the most believable hostage Grievous would take to stow away on his ship for nefarious and torture-like purposes, right, Master Obi-Wan?" Ahsoka said, somewhat snarkily. Good to know he wasn't the only one uncomfortable with this.

Obi-Wan didn’t miss a beat. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean, Ahsoka.” Sometimes Anakin really hated his Master.

"Good to know," she answered back just as quick.

Anakin smirked. Sometimes he really loved his Padawan.

"Showtime," Obi-Wan said, brushing off his robes. He stood up then, and Grievous stood with him, smoothly following his lead. As soon as they were almost close enough to be noticed by the mass of B1 battle droids, their demeanors changed, along with their positions--Grievous's tall and self-assured walk becoming hunched and arrogant, Obi-Wan's clear comfort and humor around the cyborg melting into a defensive and determined air. There was a distinctly predatory way to how Grievous leaned over Obi-Wan, hands clasped tightly around the Jedi’s wrists and bending them up uncomfortably, and an uneasy air to how Obi-Wan leaned away from the cyborg, while seemingly trying not to trip.

"Hey, it's the General!" one of the droids called.

"The Gener-als!" another one corrected cheerfully.

"What are you doing here right now, General?" the droid directed to his superior. "Grievous!" he amended, and then added again, "Er, well, you too, General Kenobi. Aren't you supposed to be in a cell?"

Grievous stopped before that droid and the others that had collected nearby to watch. They were like tookas Anakin decided, confused but eager to watch something new. "I am taking the prisoner--" at that, he shoved Obi-Wan. Hard. Obi-Wan nearly fell, making a noise of alarm that Anakin knew must be genuine surprise. But not of pain, he noticed. "--to my ship,” Grievous finished, letting his voice fill with malicious glee, and it was almost enough to set Anakin on edge and impulsively rush in to save Obi-Wan.

But that wasn't the plan, and they'd be overrun and waste time before Ventress swooped down to capture them herself, probably much less nicely than the droids. He had to trust Obi-Wan.

"But uhhhh," one of the droids scratched their heads. "General sir. Why? There's no scheduled trans--"

Grievous lunged forward suddenly, so suddenly that Anakin had to catch Ahsoka's instinctive mirrored movement. She looked at him and he shook his head at her carefully. She relaxed back again, albeit clearly unhappy.

"Then MAKE a scheduled transfer!" Grievous shouted, and if Anakin didn't know that only five minutes before the cyborg was grumpily yet placidly arguing about plan ideas, he wouldn't have believed it. The change in behavior was so absolute.

The droids cowered away from their leader in fear. "But, sir," one of them ventured in a weak voice. A few of the others congregated behind it in solidarity, and the rest moved away, clearly expecting retribution aimed in its direction. "That doesn't make sense--"

Grievous growled loudly, shoving Obi-Wan forward again. Obi-Wan let out a displeased sound that was just a fraction of a second too late to be a real reaction from him. Anakin knew what Obi-Wan's real sounds of involuntary pain sounded like--and how very rarely he gave them. Never so small for something as simple as a shove, and never in front of one of the very many archnemeses Obi-Wan had collected.

"Just do as I say," Grievous ordered, and the droids scattered, making room for him and his prisoner. "Start my ship. And then get out of my sight!"

A dozen roger, roger's answered him, as several of them took off to accomplish that goal, and others ran off to make themselves busy in the face of their General's wrath.

Slowly, they made their way to the ship Grievous had flown in on, a vessel almost all the way back. Ahsoka frowned in displeasure next to him. Yeah, same. He was sure Grievous had wanted to land as quickly as possible, but that also meant their "rescue" would be twice as hard, having to cover ground all the way over to the hangar door itself.

Anakin and Ahsoka waited. As soon as Obi-Wan and Grievous were in the ship, that was their cue.

Anakin tapped his fingers worriedly, saw Ahsoka finger her saber hilts out of the corner of his eye. He trusted Obi-Wan. But he was anxious to get this over with.

They made it nearly halfway before they were stopped again.

“Hold it!” a droid yelled, and both pairs of would-be escapers froze at the same time.

Grievous, and Obi-Wan, with him, turned to the droid who’d called from behind them. From this angle, Anakin could see the wary line of tension in Obi-Wan’s shoulders, real this time. “What is it? I’m busy,” the cyborg said malevolently.

“Captain says you can’t leave!”

Ahsoka held her breath beside him.

Grievous made a guttural noise that made Anakin suddenly very happy he wasn’t a droid in the vicinity. “The Captain answers to me,” he informed the droid slowly, as if speaking to a particularly stupid child. Anakin supposed that was indeed the average intellect of battle droids.

The droid proved this with its next words. “Well. Yeah, that is how the chain of command works. But--”

“No buts,” Grievous snarled, sounding truly angry. “We are going, and you may tell your Captain that if he wants to inform Count Dooku why he’s holding up on my delivery of perhaps the Confederacy’s most wanted enemy, then he’s welcome to.”

At those words, he moved one of his hands up to grab Obi-Wan by the hair and yank his head back violently, emphasizing his point of who exactly was currently his prisoner. Even from this distance, Anakin could see the pained expression on his old Master’s face. Grievous didn’t remove the hand when he was done.

One of the droids, apparently suicidal, complained about this. “Why you, though? What are you even gonna do with him that we can’t?”

The words rictus grin suddenly flashed in Anakin’s mind, and though he knew it was irrational, Grievous didn’t even have a proper mouth, he couldn’t help but imagine a frenzied grimace of delight taking place on his face with his next words, “I will be breaking Kenobi in until he’s ready to speak for Dooku.”

As he said this, Grievous split the arm not holding Obi-Wan’s wrists, and dangled a set of claws that Anakin personally knew were sharp enough to cut through metal hulls right by his former Master’s throat. Obi-Wan for his part stood poised, seemingly frozen in fear, or just self-preservation.

Every muscle in Anakin’s body coiled suddenly, and he had to grit his teeth. Trust Obi-Wan. He had to trust Obi-Wan.

It was a good thing Ahsoka didn’t go off herself during that moment, because Anakin didn’t think he’d have been able to contain her. She breathed heavily beside him, impressively holding back the fear and fury he felt well within her at that, the same one he felt watching it. He was not a man known for his restraint, but he was one known for protecting the ones he loved, and he had to believe that this was the safest course of action for them all, to free themselves and get as far from this ship as possible, and then back home. He had to believe Obi-Wan knew what he was doing.

There was a very long silence. Whatever else could be said for him, General Grievous knew how to put on a show. Even the faraway droids seemed a little taken aback and wary. “Um,” the one who spoke before answered. “Very good, sir,” it said. “Sounds like very good, typical, uh. Separatist actions. I’ll tell the Captain!” At that, it took off, speeding towards a direction that Anakin could not be sure, but was pretty confident was not the direction to either the bridge or the Captain’s quarters.

“Are we sure we’re on the right side?” some droid intoned from a distance away, not even bothering to lower its voice, which seemed like a death wish.

“Duh,” another one said, more quietly. “We’re programmed to be on the right side.”

There was a rather final hmph from Grievous, followed by the clacking of his arm reconnecting, and then another shove of Obi-Wan (finally removing the hand, Anakin noted, his stomach loosening a little from it’s tight anxiety). A flare of Grievous’s cape, and then they were on their way again. He noticed most of the droids seemed to have completely scurried away. Even battle droids had some self-preservation it seemed, and nobody wanted to get in the way of the good General and finally taking his notoriously favorite foe into custody.

They weren’t stopped again. After what felt like an eternity, Obi-Wan and Grievous finally reached the ship and lowered the deck. They took the first step onto it, heading inside.

At last. Anakin and Ahsoka grabbed their lightsabers proper then and swung their bodies over the crates, instantly powering up the weapons and beginning to run across the hangar. The few remaining droids began yelling and rapidly pulling out their blasters, firing away as quickly as they dared, which was pretty quick, but fortunately for the Jedi, Grievous’s dramatics had cleared most of them and the blasts were fairly easy to deflect. For now.

Anakin and Ahsoka leaped and dodged, parrying blasts back at the droids who shot them, or just ones who happened to be nearby. They had surprise on their side, and they couldn't waste it. They had to cover as much distance as possible before the droids recovered from their shock and the rest of them heard the commotion and came to even the odds.

Some of them got brave and tried to intercept the Jedi by themselves, and were immediately struck down. That seemed to be a good enough buffer to keep others at bay, not wanting to become the next scrap metal without others to help overwhelm the enemy.

They moved fast, and got nearly 2/3rds of the way before enough of the droids collected themselves sufficiently to move in together, quickly. They started to try to surround them.

Anakin stopped running. They couldn’t afford to waste time battling their way out again. "Ahsoka!" he yelled. "Duck!"

She dropped, battle instincts making her obey almost instantaneously.

Anakin grabbed his lightsaber with the Force instead of his hand, propelling it out from his arm as far as he could without risking losing it to a stray blast. He clenched his fist and swung, spinning in a full circle and decimating all of the droids who'd dared come close enough to try and recapture them.

It was unnecessarily showy and dramatic and could very easily lose you a lightsaber if you weren't careful, which was why Anakin didn't do it often--and had often been chided for it as a Padawan--but that was kind of the point. A sight like that was impressive.

It was a bad day to be a battle droid in this hangar. Most of the droids who were on their way closer stopped, apparently reconsidering the reach of the Jedi before them, and settled for longer distance blasts.

Anakin grinned. They could work with that.

"Come on, let's go!" he shouted at Ahsoka.

She picked herself back up before he even finished speaking, and started running.

They deflected the blasts on instinct as they went, but met no more one-on-one (or rather, forty-on-one) resistance. Soon they were climbing up the ship's loading port, and mashing the button to close it behind them.

Obi-Wan and Grievous were at the controls, apparently waiting for them, having abandoned their act of capturer-and-captive entirely.

"Finally," Grievous said, looking very scrunched in what appeared to be an attempt at "sitting" in the co-pilot chair.

"Listen, General," Anakin said, levelling his still lit lightsaber in the cyborg's direction, in no mood to be civil after his earlier act. "If you want to do what we just did in half the amount of time, you're welcome to try."

Grievous just stared at him sullenly, looking unimpressed.

Obi-Wan sighed from his position in the pilot’s seat, back to looking--well, not relaxed, but not like a man two seconds away from being shredded by General Grievous’s claws. "Will you two stop fighting?"

"Ironic!" Anakin half-shouted, and tamped down his raised voice immediately, and was mostly successful. "Coming from you!"

Ahsoka giggled next to him, probably unintentionally, and Anakin suddenly realized the ridiculousness of the situation. He sighed, too exhausted for this, and found a seat, flopping down. Ahsoka joined him, gingerly sitting in the fourth chair behind Grievous and shooting Anakin a betrayed look.

Anakin made a face at her and then turned back towards the front, ducking to look out the windows. "So…"

"Now we wait," Obi-Wan said. He looked calm but Anakin could sense the nervous energy in him. What they were doing was risky. They'd decided it was too difficult to send one of them to open the hangar door, and couldn't let Grievous be seen overtly helping them (after the door opened and they had escaped, there was going to be a "fight,” and the General would be tossed out, beaten yet again by his nemesis) but with less than a minute or two to spare on Ventress's arrival… they didn't need to.

It was risky, yes, because adding Ventress into the mix was never a safe bet, but it was somehow their best option right now. So they waited, staring at the chrono, counting down the seconds.

"Why are they shooting at the ship now," Grievous snapped, looking at the blaster fire they were taking on their shields from the droids below. "Idiots."

"Much like their leader," Anakin said, and received a truly impressive set of matching glares from both Generals. He raised his hands in faux-deference.

Ahsoka snickered. "Well, he's right." Anakin shot her a grateful look.

"I hate your Padawans," Grievous said glumly to Obi-Wan.

"Only Anakin is--nevermind," he interrupted himself. "Look! The hangar door is opening."

They all leaned forward. So it was. They must have reached the point where Ventress was set to board, and dropped from hyperspace.

Obi-Wan tensed, prepared to take off as soon as the opening was wide enough, and Anakin clenched his hands around the armrests of his seat. He wished suddenly he was in the pilot--or at least co-pilot--seat. Obi-Wan was a good pilot, but the teeth-clenching nerves he got when somebody else had to fly them out of a bad situation never failed to set him on edge. If the slight tremor in Obi-Wan's hands was anything to go by, he wasn't any less on edge.

As soon as the gap widened enough to fit their ship--and only enough for their ship, no more, no less--he shot through it, dashing the ship so quickly from sitting to flying that it almost made Anakin dizzy.

The only thing that made it all worth it was the single satisfying Force-boosted moment where Anakin got to see the utterly baffled look on Ventress's face as they skipped by. He would remember that for years.

They waited, tense, for several long moments, but no one followed them, no droids in smaller crafts, not even Ventress herself. They all let out a collective breath of relief, even Grievous. Anakin had to thank the small mercies of droid obedience to the chain of command, and the element of surprise. Likely Ventress still didn't even know what had happened back there, and by the time she did, they'd be well out of range.

"I think we pulled off a pretty good escape," Obi-Wan said proudly.

Anakin had to admit he was right. "Yeah, we sure did, old man." He turned to glare at Grievous, still pissy about that business with the threat. “No thanks to you.”

Grievous bristled immediately at his words, and it was almost comical. He was just so easy to rile. Anakin had a sudden self-aware moment of realizing what Obi-Wan must go through keeping him in line on shared missions.

“I am the reason we succeeded at all!” Grievous said heatedly. His yellow eyes burned with ire.

Anakin snorted derisively and opened his mouth to retort, but Obi-Wan beat him to it.

“Alright, alright,” Obi-Wan interjected for perhaps the millionth time. “No more fighting. We escaped. That’s what matters.” He paused for a moment, stretching his arms out and above his head, before running one hand tiredly through his hair. “But did you have to be so rough, Grievous? My shoulders were already sore from the night in the cell, and now I think you’ve given me a headache as well.” There was a teasing look on his face when he looked over at the co-pilot seat.

Grievous’s entire demeanor seemed to change when he turned from Anakin back to Obi-Wan, shifting… softer, somehow, if a man made of metal whose most frequent description among Republic headlines was “monster” could be described as soft. “Are you alright?” he questioned quietly. His eyes seemed to seek out Obi-Wan’s, running anxiously back and forth between them.

Obi-Wan just smiled then, lifting a hand again to stifle a sudden yawn. “Yes, yes, don’t worry, my dear. I won’t break from a little performative mishandling.”

Grievous didn’t say anything, but his relief was palpable, perhaps as palpable as Anakin and Ahsoka’s were from also hearing in Obi-Wan's own words he was fine. Despite the fact that Grievous should’ve already known Obi-Wan was fine, the cyborg felt… guilty, in the Force. And Anakin didn’t know what to do with that. The air seemed to shudder with a sense of controlled nervousness, as if reverberating with one particular cyborg General’s struggle not to reach out, now. It didn’t take a Force-user to piece together those pieces, confusing though they may be.

Determined to get some answers, Anakin scooted forward towards Obi-Wan's chair and leaned his arm against the headrest. “Now that that’s settled--” he thumped the taut plastic cover of the chair then with his knuckles, redirecting the conversation, "let's revisit the topic of how you two got to be friends."

He fixed his eyes meaningfully on Grievous, now entirely sure that he was on their side--or at least, that this wasn't some sort of one time deal, or even a case of honorable-in-battle I'll-capture-you-myself! type of shenanigans from the good General. He saw Ahsoka perk up from her chair, looking back and forth between them.

"Uhhh," Obi-Wan started ambitiously, looking over at Grievous. Grievous stared back impassively, supremely unhelpful. Anakin could practically hear the rebuttal of they're your Jedi children, you deal with it, in the meaning in Grievous's eyes.

Finding no assistance there, Obi-Wan cleared his throat and turned back towards him and Ahsoka, looking sheepish. "'Friends'..." he quoted slowly. "About that…"

Anakin waited impatiently for him to get to the point as his former Master stroked his beard in agitated contemplation.

"You're dating!" Ahsoka blurted suddenly. Anakin swung to face her, saw her eyes intent on the two of them, the way her face excitedly lit up as she determined that yes, her guess was right.

"No," Anakin said as he saw Obi-Wan wince and not deny it. "No, you--y--you are--YOU--" he sputtered in increasing levels of rage.

"Keep going," Obi-Wan said supportively. "I'm sure you'll find your way to a full sentence soon."

"YOU!" Anakin howled. "You are LITERALLY sleeping with the enemy!"

Obi-Wan cringed as Grievous huffed something that sounded like more of his regular smug cackles. Anakin didn't know. He wasn't paying attention. His vision had fogged over. He didn't know anything anymore. "You don't have to be crude," Obi-Wan said weakly, still not denying it.

"I can't believe you're having a secret affair and didn't tell me!" Anakin accused.

"Oh, now that's ironic," Obi-Wan replied, sounding more defensive now and turning his head to look at Anakin over his shoulder.

Anakin opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again with more purpose this time. Made a strangled noise. Closed it again. Looked at Ahsoka. She was staring at him silently, eyebrows raised, not looking the slightest bit surprised. Looked back at Obi-Wan, who was now fully facing forward and away from his Padawan and Grandpadawan, as if they were having a normal slight disagreement, and not a conversation that was literally shaking his whole world.

"I hate this fucking family," Anakin finally settled on.

Grievous laughed.

Unfortunately (or rather, fortunately, depending on your point of view, and Obi-Wan wasn’t dumb enough to think that despite the momentary truce either Anakin or Ahsoka would be very comfortable having Grievous stay much longer), Grievous did have to leave. They had to keep up the act of Grievous’s noninvolvement with their escape, and if they delayed much longer, they’d be in danger of the smaller ship’s escape pod being incapable of finding its way back to the ship they just left. Or worse, the ship taking off entirely.

Granted, the escape pod would have communication abilities, of course, but even then, if they took too long, it would be suspicious and put Grievous’s claim of being defeated and oh-so-nobly sent back by his Jedi adversaries under question.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I think it’s time.”

“You’re right,” Grievous grumbled. He stood from his chair smoothly, so tall he had to adjust his stance so he wouldn’t hit the ceiling of the small craft. He drew his cloak back around him like it’d been when he’d come to rescue them, and walked off towards the back of the ship.

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan said to Anakin and Ahsoka briefly, and then jogged after him. They watched him go, but said nothing, instead turning back to each other. Probably to gossip as soon as he was in the deeper part of the ship, connected to but far away enough from the main cockpit for voices to stay unheard if one was trying to stay quiet.

Obi-Wan caught up to him just as Grievous was programming the settings for the pod, hunched further in this part of the ship that was even shorter in height. “Do you need help?” he asked unnecessarily. He doubted the cyborg needed his help on almost anything mechanical, honestly, much less a basic pod, but he wanted to start a conversation somehow. He wasn’t going to squander the small opportunity for them to talk, alone, before he left.

Grievous appeared to realize this and didn’t answer his question, only giving a sidelong look and drawing his hand back from the controls, waiting.

Obi-Wan swallowed. “It’s just, uh.” Well. Grievous knew. “I hate to see you go,” he said sadly. “Right after we’ve seen each other again.” It was hard for them, keeping in touch. Keeping connected, with a relationship like theirs. They saw each other very rarely apart from discreet transmissions and holocalls, and even more rarely as something other than enemies.

Grievous straightened a little, as much as he could here. His eyes slitted in resignation. “I know,” he said softly.

Obi-Wan swallowed again and raised his hand stiltingly, unsure--before making the decision that if this was going to be the only time any time soon they could see each other in relative privacy, he was going to make it count. He lifted his hand to the side of Grievous’s face, cupping his fingers around the edges of the metal there.

Grievous closed his eyes and leaned his head into Obi-Wan’s grip, stepping closer. He opened them again as he grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand with his own, curling the fingers and pressing them to the bottom of his face plate and tilting into the touch, as if in a kiss. Obi-Wan wished desperately, suddenly, that it could be a real one.

The cyborg removed his hand and gave Obi-Wan’s back to him. He followed the movement of it retracting and leaned down further, laying his claws gently on Obi-Wan’s arm and leaning his forehead against Obi-Wan’s own silently.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, grabbing Grievous’s shoulder and digging his fingers into the cloth of the cyborg’s cloak.

They stayed that way for a moment, pressed close, and filling the silence with all the things unsaid, unallowed to be said. Eventually the moment passed; they were pushing the time limit as it was.

Grievous withdrew sadly, and turned back to finish programming the direction of the escape pod. The door to it opened with a beep and the systems inside it whirred to life.

Obi-Wan stood quietly, watching him. Trying to absorb everything he could from Grievous’s presence, even if it was in leaving.

Hesitating in the doorway, Grievous turned back to look at him. He lifted his claws and stroked them across Obi-Wan’s cheek mournfully, more delicate than a brush of petals from a flower would’ve been. Obi-Wan leaned into it as well, just as Grievous began to pull away again.

“Take care of yourself out there, Kenobi,” he rumbled quietly.

“I will,” he murmured. “You too.” He grabbed the cyborg’s hand then, knowing he was stalling for time but unable to stop himself.

Sorrow drifted freely in Grievous’s eyes. “I can’t stay.”

“I know.” He wouldn’t keep him.

Grievous inhaled deeply, pulling Obi-Wan’s hand seemingly almost unconsciously towards him, and then almost quicker than Obi-Wan could see he whisked his cloak off. It was pressed into Obi-Wan’s hand in an instant, the deep, lovely maroon color turned almost blood-red in the harsh white light coming from the pod’s inner walls. Grievous guided his hand with it back towards Obi-Wan’s chest, and then let go. Obi-Wan was left holding it by himself, the fabric draping all over his feet and the floor.

“Take this with you,” the cyborg said.

“Grievous, I can’t--” he started.

“You can.” His yellow eyes burned, and Obi-Wan wished he had the time to map out all of the emotions playing in them. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

He bit his lip, and nodded.

Grievous dipped his head in a small return nod, or perhaps the beginning of a bow. Then the door slammed shut, and the light was gone, and the click-woosh-release of the pod was initiated. He was gone.

Obi-Wan stood in the sudden darkness, eyes adjusting and now watering against his will. He clutched the cape in his hands. It was soft, made of something similar to but not exactly velvet, and he couldn’t help his fingers running back and forth over the edges of it. There was a chill in the air on the ship, the vessel typically made for droids lacking the same heating system that most of the ships Obi-Wan frequented possessed. The parts of his lower half hidden under the cloak now were already feeling warmer, protected by the insulated fabric. Obi-Wan wondered if Grievous had noticed the cool air, and knew this would help. It was another reason he wanted to cry, and another reason he couldn’t.

He started to wipe at his eyes and then realized--he brought the cloak up, pressing his face into the rich fabric. It was cool against his skin, and he rubbed his cheek into it, feeling how it slid easily and dried his tears. The cloak was heavy, heavier than any cloth Obi-Wan had held before, and only in part due to its huge size--it was big. Big enough to cover Grievous in entirety from shoulder to foot at his full height, and still drape. And it was thick, the fabric feeling almost more like a blanket than a cloak.

It smelled like Grievous, whatever that was. Something that Obi-Wan had come to associate with the smells of machinery, like oil or cleaner or something that Obi-Wan wasn’t experienced enough in the ways of engineering to know the name of. And something else, something more natural, sitting heavy in his nostrils, almost spicy. He didn’t know if it was the remnants of whatever Grievous used to clean it, or maybe some sort of cologne, but he knew it was distinctly Grievous. Something he never noticed consciously when around him, but always missed when he was gone. Now he had something that carried the smell inherently, and given its size, would probably keep it for a while.

He sighed, removing his face from the cloth, feeling a little more contained now, if still sad. He wrapped it up in his arms, trying to fold it as best as he could while trying to manage its sheer proportions. He left a little bit of it loose, to lay against his chest and stroke his fingers over.

Obi-Wan walked slowly back to the cockpit, wishing he had the lightheartedness to be embarrassed by how obvious they had been, and how obviously he was clutching Grievous’s cloak like a lifeline, but mostly he just felt quietly heartsick.

When he got back, Ahsoka was steadfastly looking at her feet, clearly trying very hard not to be seeing anything she didn’t want to or didn’t think she should be looking at. Anakin had stolen the co-pilot chair back like a territorial lothcat, looking very petty and satisfied with himself, sitting with his arms crossed. Both of them looked up when he sat back down, waiting to see if he’d say something, and looked away again when he didn’t.

They could shift into hyperspace now that Grievous was gone, make their way back home from their impromptu excursion. He was just about to handle the controls himself to make it so when Anakin suddenly reached out, flipping switches and hitting buttons and programming the coordinates. Obi-Wan smiled.

“Rough day,” Anakin said conversationally, and Obi-Wan knew it was not conversational at all.

“Indeed,” he answered.

“Too rough,” Ahsoka added. “I want a nap.”

Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder and the edge of the seat at her. She sat curled up in her chair, arms wrapped around her legs loosely and looking a few seconds away from a yawn. “You should take one. I’m sure there’s a bunk around here somewhere.”

She did yawn then, hard enough her jaw popped, and it started a chain reaction, the other two of them set off by their own lack of relative sleep.

“Maybe we should take a nap,” Anakin muttered.

“It will be a while before we reach our destination,” Obi-Wan agreed, eyes beginning to droop now that the adrenaline and high emotions were wearing down.

Anakin stood then, decisively. “Come on,” he said to them, and made his way back from the cockpit to the other side of the ship. Obi-Wan sighed but didn’t argue, and Ahsoka yawned again, and then unfolded herself from the chair, following. Obi-Wan trailed obediently, still clutching the cloak.

There was, indeed, a bunk somewhere. Only one, though, and Obi-Wan was dubious of whether it was large enough for all three of them to sit on once it was folded out, much less lay on. Anakin fixed that by grabbing the edges of it and yanking roughly, ignoring the squealing protest of the joints. “It’s not our ship, so it’s fine,” he explained. Then added, “These things always have more material technically inside the locking mechanism. It’s just that, y’know, if you tug that out, it stops locking in place. And you can’t put it back.”

“So you broke it,” Ahsoka interpreted.

“Only a little,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan sighed, and climbed up, scooting to the side so Ahsoka and Anakin could sit too. It was definitely enough for them all to sit, and if it was a bit tight on amount of sleeping surface, it wasn’t like they weren’t used to difficult conditions in warzones. Anakin took the other side, and Ahsoka crawled inbetween them, looking ready to collapse. She had experienced things more difficult than being locked on a Separatist ship for one night (and this wasn’t even her first time with that) but she was young, and once you were worn out, you were worn out. Obi-Wan made an impulsive split-second decision and started unfolding the cloak in his arms, and draped it over her shoulders, and then his own.

“What about me?” Anakin complained.

“Grab some of it and pull,” Obi-Wan advised.

He did just that, and then they were all three huddled beneath the monstrosity of a cape covering their shoulders, and soon drowsing. Ahsoka made herself comfortable by smooshing into his side, tucking her legs up under her. He smiled down at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, bringing some of the cloak with it to cover her.

“Hey,” Anakin said mildly in protest as the movement robbed him of some of his own blanket-cape, but there wasn’t any heat in it. “Also, why do you get the cuddles?” he directed to Obi-Wan in the same tone of voice, though slightly more peeved now.

“Master Obi-Wan is less annoying than you,” Ahsoka answered sleepily, voice muffled by the way her head was turned into Obi-Wan’s tunic.

“Ow, Snips. Right in the heart.” He twisted closer, though. Eventually through a series of sleepy shifts and resettlings, they ended up in a position with Obi-Wan leaning against the corner of the bunk area embedded into the wall, his legs arranged under him and to the side, while Anakin occupied the other corner of the bunk, leaning back solidly against the wall with his arms crossed and his head lolling just a bit. Between them lay Ahsoka, curled up, her head resting in Obi-Wan’s lap, and her feet tangled up among Anakin’s legs. On top of them was the heavy maroon cloak, big enough to wrap around, covering them all with extra give, and still have excess to cushion their limbs.

Obi-Wan wondered, idly, if anyone had ever touched this cloak before besides Grievous. If it’d ever passed through any other hands. If it had, it was at most from being put to wash and dry and then be brought back to the General; it had certainly never been used as a blanket before, not even for Grievous himself.

It had never been used as a symbol of comfort, or shared as a token of love, before today. As given to him as it was by Grievous, to remember him by. As he had draped it over his Padawan and Grandpadawan, to keep them warm.

He felt like there was something poetic in there, mixed with all that longing and grief and quiet sorrow. Something full of warmth. Something that made the distance and silence worth it all, for the small moments that defined what distance and silence meant.

He curled his hand around some of the cloth of the cloak, pulling it to his nose and inhaling the scent again, something undefinable yet undeniably significant to him. He heard the soft inhales and exhales of his Padawan and Grandpadawan, and felt the calm and comfort of rest and familiarity in the air.

Obi-Wan didn’t know what it meant. He was not a poet, and his heart still ached too much to truly probe the depths of his emotions right now and find some deeper meaning. But he knew he didn’t have to bear the hurt by himself anymore. And maybe that was enough.