Mud | Obikin

1.

Anakin is dancing in the battle. His Force Signature shines as he cuts down another droid.

'My Anakin,' I think foolishly.

He's not mine. Not my Padawan nor anything else.

He walks backwards and stops when his shoulders touch mine. We fight like this, breathing at the same pace, feeling one in the Force, until there's nothing left moving. All is silent, except for our short breaths and the wails of the dying soldiers.

"I'm calling Rex," he whispers.

I kneel to touch the nearest Clone's throat in search of life signs as he tells the comm our coordinates.

We spend the following hours dividing the fallen soldiers from the wounded ones.
It's a Republic's victory, but it may be hard to keep it in mind when you're soaked in your men's blood.

Near the debris of an explosion, a dim light glares in the Force.
I dig frantically until I see the white of armour. The glow fades a moment before I can pull him out.
Suddenly, I am aware of how tired I have become over last weeks.
I mutter a curse, my knees in the mud.

A light pat on my shoulder makes me wince. Rex is behind me, his expression blank.

"My men will take care of this, General."

He's touching me with concern. Highly unusual for a Clone, even for Rex; they tend to avoid every unnecessary physical contact.

"You are right. I'm of no use here," I say, getting up. "I'll try to get some rest."

I thank him for his solicitude, but my words sound empty. I feel his eyes on my back as I walk away.

When I enter our shared tent, Anakin is sitting on his bed. He already took off his wet tunic and is trying to do the same with one of his boots, kicking it indolently with the other one. Without a word, I take his leg in my hands and pull to help him. He sighs in relief and throws himself back on the mattress.

The late afternoon light looks green through the tent fabric and all smell of mould. We are so used to this now that it somehow feels like home.

"Do you think one can get his bones wet? Because I haven't been dry in weeks."

Whining.
I roll my eyes but smile inside.
This is his way to keep death images at bay; awkward and annoying, but I appreciate the effort.
Wait, am I enjoying Anakin's grumbling? This is alarming.

"Look. There are mushrooms growing in my armpit."

I hold back a snicker. "Anakin, certainly you can't think it is my desire to check your armpit growths. Now, be a good boy and let me write my report."

I should know better, this is the best way to make him go on forever.

"Are you going to do nothing as I rot? My Master should take care of me!"