Chapter Text
There was a general in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s office. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but general Ben of the Young was certainly out of place. His hands were caked with wet blood, his auburn hair was dirtied beyond recognition, and his reopened wounds sluggishly wept blood. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and he held the blaster closer to his chest (closer to his heart), pressing himself further into the underside of a desk that was drowning in flimsi.
Ben didn’t know where he was. One moment he was pressing down on a trigger, and the next he was in a well lived in office. Ben knew he was in trouble. He was supposed to be saving people, fighting—.
He had been taken. That was the only explanation. He couldn’t remember how, but it was the only thing that made sense. This wouldn’t be the first instance that Ben lost time, but it didn’t feel any less distressing. Did the Elders take him? No, this wasn’t one of their cells—it was too clean. Trafficking, it had to be traffickers. Unattended and unwanted children made easy targets. Occasionally, someone would leave the sewers and not return. There would not be a corpse left as expected, but the markings of a ship landing briefly before taking off. It made Ben’s skin crawl every time it happened.
He was armed. He had an old blaster that could barely be called usable, but he was still hesitant to reach out to the Force after feeling death and despair for so long. He would have to take control of the cockpit without the Force because Master Jinn hadn’t taught him how to pilot a ship yet.
Hiding under the desk wasn't the best plan, but it was facing away from the door so that no trafficker could see him, squished under in the place an Elder's legs would go. Maybe he could take a trafficker hostage when they stepped in. The desk smelled like flimsi and it was the subject to many sleepless nights if the Force gave any indication. Ben shifted and he winced as the movement pulled at his numerous wounds. An ambitious drop of blood from his neck landed on the floor.
A knock sounded against the office door. Ben stiffened and forced his aching body deeper under the desk. The knock wasn't harsh by any means, just swift and formal, but knocks were deep and higher than a child would comfortably reach. An adult was on the other side of the door. There was a moment of silence before the door opened.
“General?” A male voice called out and Ben resisted the urge to curse. Either they knew he was here, or he managed to hide in a general’s office. Wonderful. That meant this man was possibly a bounty hunter instead of a slaver. The accent wasn't Coruscanti at the very least, so it wasn't a Jedi sent to retrieve him. The sound of heavy boots approaching the desk interrupted Ben’s thoughts. Soon, a pair of armored legs filled Ben’s vision, close enough that Ben could easily touch them if he reached out.
“Kark,” the man muttered before taking a step closer to the desk, inadvertently pressing the chair deeper into the desk. The chair did not go deeper, instead hitting Ben's legs. A ripple of confusion rang in the Force and the man shifted his weight, intending to get a better look at what prevented the chair from being pushed in all the way.
Before the man could react, Ben kicked the chair into the man, leaping out from under the desk and training his shoddy blaster on the Elder. The armored man, used to dealing with violence, had his blaster similarly trained on Ben. The bounty hunter shifted his stance in slight surprise and attempted to swiftly switch his blaster to stun, but Ben took the opportunity to use the Force to yank the blaster out of his hands and into his own. Ben did not switch it to stun. Ben chucked his old blaster to the far side of the room in order to properly hold the new blaster at the man's chest. The bounty hunter slowly put his hands up in surrender.
What to do? Ben needed information. Wars were won on information.
"How many people are on this ship?" Ben demanded with a Melida/Daan accent. He had already given up the fact he was a Force user, but he didn't want them to think he was still a padawan on the off-chance they attempt to ransom him to the Jedi Order. Maybe this man was sent by the Jedi Order and it was futile to act. But on the chance he wasn't—
"Roughly ten-thousand troopers." Ben felt faint at the number. Ten-thousand? Ben couldn't even begin to imagine the amount of resources required to sustain that amount of people. And troopers? The man did look to be fit for battle with his armor and calm disposition, but that meant there was a large scale war happening between planets rather than an intraplanet skirmish. However, that threw a wrench in Ben's explanation for how he got kidnapped. They weren't traffickers or slavers. Maybe they wanted someone with his experience in war? Or maybe they heard rumors he was Force-sensitive and wanted to use him as a weapon.
Neither option was good.
"What rank are you?" Maybe if he was high enough rank, Ben could negotiate his return to Melida/Daan. Or Ben would be killed for holding him hostage. One or the other.
"I am Clone Marshal Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic." Ben resisted the urge to frown. Grand Army of the Republic? The entire Republic was at war? What could have possibly caused a galaxy wide war? Ben faltered at the idea, the amount of death and fear the war must reap threatening to overwhelm him.
Ben couldn't see the commander's face under his orange helmet, but Ben could feel cautious worry emanate from him. "We have medical supplies and Naboo has a robust refugee program—"
"I'm not a refugee," Ben corrected in a hard voice. The man did not know who Ben was. How could Ben have possibly ended up on this ship? Maybe Ben ran away from traffickers and hopped on the first ship he saw. His plans to getting back to war did not change. "I wish to return to my planet." Ben could feel the commander's focus flick to his reopened scar from Bandomeer and Ben fought to keep his hands steady.
"Regardless, we can treat your injuries in the med-bay while we continue to talk. No harm will come to you." The Force rang with the truth of the statement, but Ben refused to trust it. The Elder was probably waiting for the moment Ben let his guard down for the medic to stick him with a hypo before carting him off away from war. Ben did not want to leave his war. Before Ben could voice his displeased thoughts, he felt the equivalent of a supernova running towards the office, worry and fear swirling around the being like a hurricane.
"How many Jedi are on this ship," Ben hissed. He didn't know why he asked; he was done for with just one Jedi making an appearance.
"One master and one knight," The Commander answered evenly, but there was something more that he was not saying. A padawan he was trying to protect, or maybe one of the Jedi was injured. Ben didn't have time to figure that out as he managed to set the blaster to stun just as the door burst open to reveal a young man in Jedi robes panting as if he had run across the entire ship. Maybe he had.
"Cody—" The knight began (for no master would ever allow themselves to be seen so uncomposed), but stopped as he took in the situation that greeted him. Ben felt the knight brush against his shields, but that only made Ben shore them up even higher. The knight straightened to his full height—kark, he was tall—and flashed a smile Ben in an attempt to convince Ben to relax. Ben tightened his hold on the blaster aimed at the armored man, his hands slick with sweat and blood.
"You have good shields," The knight said and Ben felt like a bug being examined. "It's rare to see padawans—"
"Not a padawan," Ben corrected and turned the blaster on the knight, his hands shaking. I'm pointing a blaster at a Jedi Knight! Ben thought with a hint of hysteria. Maybe Qui-Gon Jinn was right in refusing to take Ben as a padawan; Ben had always been prone to anger and rash decisions. However, Ben was also stubborn no matter the rash decision. He made his choice to leave the Jedi Order and he stood by it. The room crackled with tension.
"Not a padawan," The knight acquiesced easily. His eyes flicked over Ben again, taking him in. "I would have thought the Separatists would treat their own better." Was that what they called the Young? It was an odd name, but Ben couldn't argue against the accuracy of it. They did after all separate from both the Melida and the Daan.
Ben refused to rise to the knight's bait. "I simply wish to return to my planet. I have people there waiting for me." Let him know that if he is taken, someone would make a mess of things. Let him know people cared for him and would fight for his return. It was a comforting lie.
"Then we can send out a comm," The knight easily offered. "We can treat your injuries here while we wait." Not good enough.
"There's only one comm tower still active on my planet and the Elders control it," Ben's lip curled in distaste. "There also isn't transportation off-planet." The knight's brow furrowed, no doubt thinking of the impossibility of a planet only having one working communications tower.
"Elders?" Asked the commander, but Ben refused to take his eyes off the Jedi Knight.
"The Melida and the Daan. We're fighting them in a war and I need to get back to my soldiers." There was a pause.
"I believe there was a miscommunication," The commander said diplomatically. "Are you not a Separatist?"
"I assumed that's what you call the Young," Ben huffed, irritated. "I have not left Melida/Daan for some time and I do not know what you mean when you speak of 'Separatists' and the Grand Army of the Republic did not exist when I joined the war against the Elders." Some tension leaked out of the knight and commander. Ben tensed, not sure if that was a good or bad thing.
"Good," The knight smiled and Ben had the inane thought the man belonged on an army recruitment poster. "Unfortunately, I cannot return you to your planet in good conscience with Dooku out there, but there are people at the Temple—"
Ben pressed the trigger, and it was only the knight's quick reflexes that saved him from getting hit with a stun bolt as the knight blocked it with his blue lightsaber. The commander took Ben's shoddy gun from his the corner of the small office, faltering when it only had a fatal setting for the blasts.
The knight used the Force to throw a hefty paper weight at Ben and the former Jedi executed an Ataru flip to dodge it on instinct. His victory was short lived as the knight threw him against the wall with the Force hard enough that Ben's vision briefly flashed black.
Cody's blaster clattered from Ben's hands onto the floor.
"I refuse to return to the Order," Ben snarled as the knight patted him down for weapons as Cody retrieved his blaster. The man flicked the safety on.
"Fine," The knight allowed. "You will not return to the Order. However, you will go to the med-bay; it's up to you whether you do so conscious or unconscious." Ben stopped struggling as the knight removed a vibroblade from Ben.
"After the med-bay, I demand you return me to my planet," Ben glared. "I am a general of the Young and they need me. I refuse to abandon them."
"I will have to speak with my Master," The knight answered neutrally. "Now, I have to wonder how a former padawan wound up on Melida/Daan and became a general."
Ben frowned. He would have thought he would be the talk of the Temple with the shame he brought upon Qui-Gon Jinn. Maybe the knight has been on missions for months on end and had yet to hear. He would hear it either way when he returned to the Temple, so it wouldn't matter in the end whether Ben told him or not. Maybe he could ingratiate the man if Ben was honest.
"Me and my Master were on a mission to retrieve a Jedi Master taken hostage on the planet. I saw the Young, they wanted help, and my Master made me choose between helping the Young win the war and the Order. I chose the Young." The knight frowned at Ben's simple explanation as Ben was hauled to his feet by the commander.
"Who was your Master?" They exited the office and entered the sterile halls of the massive ship.
"Master Qui-Gon Jinn."
The knight stumbled and Ben took the opportunity to make a run for it only for the commander to dive after him. They went down, the commander making the odd choice to cushion Ben's head as they tumbled. Ben twisted in the arms to little effect beyond making the commander tighten his arms, the plastisteel digging into Ben's bony torso. The commander made the mistake of putting his hand close to Ben's mouth and Ben bit down on the digits without hesitation. The commander did not react.
The knight knelt down and observed Ben struggling against the commander. Ben released the fingers and spat at the knight's face, much to the surprise of the men.
"I refuse to return to the Order," Ben repeated as the knight wiped the spit and blood off with disgust and bewilderment.
"Is it him, sir?" The commander demanded, something desperate in his voice.
"Too much grime to tell," The knight huffed, irritated. "And I don't remember him being a slave; he grew up on Coruscant unlike me. His Force signature is also different, but that could be the fact that it changed over time. Either way, he needs medical attention." Ben was hauled to his feet once again, the commander holding him by his wrists and Ben did his best to stop himself from falling into panic at the fact an Elder was restraining him.
Ben was marched forward, but the commander quickly stopped when he noticed Ben's limp.
"You're injured, sir," The man stated.
"I am," Ben deadpanned. "It's almost like I'm the general in a centuries long war." The knight snorted in amusement before forcing his face into some semblance of stern. It did not suit the young man.
"Who do you want to be carried by, padawan?" The man relished calling Ben padawan and Ben immediately scowled.
"Not a padawan; I left the order. Master Qui-Gon Jinn took my lightsaber and everything. I can walk under my own power—I'm a general." Ben stuck his chin out in defiance and the knight sobered at the reminder of Ben's lack of padawan braid.
"Generals still get carried," The commander politely cut in. "I've had to carry my own general out of battle a number of times."
Ben crossed his arms. "I'm the one always rescuing people. Maybe your general had to be rescued because they're a bad general." Neither men reacted to Ben's jab, both looking rather unimpressed by Ben's insult.
"You still need to choose," The knight said, mirroring Ben's crossed arms. Ben wordlessly pointed to the commander just to spite the knight. A feeling of smugness emanated from the commander as Ben was scooped up into his arms. They began to walk to the med-bay, Ben drinking in the massive ship.
The halls were gray and there was a sense of sterility to them, but that did not mean they were devoid of life. People in armor roamed the halls, typically wearing white plastisteel armor painted orange, although there were a few painted blue.
Ben tried to find a way the paint patterns indicated rank, but he didn't think he was able to spot any piece of armor that was painted the same. All of them were unique. What they all had in common was that they shared the same face and looked at Ben with a mixture of bafflement and glee. A few brave souls stopped in their paths, likely to inquire about Ben, but a harsh glare from both Ben and the knight sent them away.
"Why do you all look the same?" Ben couldn't help but ask. He found it all rather unnerving. The knight and commander exchanged a look.
"We're clones," The commander said and did not elaborate, much to Ben's annoyance.
"How did you get on the ship?" The knight asked, taking Ben's question as an invitation to ask his own.
"Your terrible security," Ben rolled his eyes. The Force thrummed with the wrongness of his answer, but Ben didn't care. The knight frowned.
"What about your name, sir?" The commander offered the simple question as a peace offering.
"Ben." The Force rang with truth, rankling the knight to Ben's amusement.
"No clan name, sir?" The commander prodded further.
"All the Young generals gave up our last names when we joined the fight against the Elders," Ben shrugged. "It's to promote unity."
"Do you also give up your first names?"
Ben scowled on instinct at the knight's question. "My first name was a gift from another general." The knight hummed thoughtfully as they finally stepped into the med-bay.
"Why is there a hurt cadet?" A clone immediately asked and Ben assumed this was their CMO. A few of the clones populating the beds sat up to get a better look at the odd trio Ben was a part of. The knight's eyes flicked over the clones.
"I'll explain later in your office," The knight waved away. Hm. They wanted to keep Ben hidden. "This is Ben and he says he was fighting a war on a planet called Melida/Daan." The medic raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
"General Ben of the Young?" He asked as Ben was set down on a free bed. Ben felt uncomfortable being known by a stranger, but he refused to let it show as he puffed up his chest, attempting not to be dwarfed by the medical bed. It was ineffective and a few injured soldiers smiled at the sight. One brave (or concussed) soul even cooed.
"I am." The medic frowned and Ben couldn't keep his thirst for knowledge at bay. Information wins wars, after all. "How have you heard of me?"
"The medics of the GAR all study Melidaan so that we know how to provide care with limited resources," The man slowly explained as he gathered various medical equipment. "It's…It's a horrible war and I wish you did not fight in it. I'm Stitch, by the way." The late arrival of proper manners seemed to remind the commander and knight they had yet to properly introduce themselves.
"I'm Commander Cody."
"I'm Anakin Skywalker." Ben ignored the two buffoons. However, Ben knew to not ignore medics.
"What do you need me to do, Dr. Stitch?"
"Not a doctor, General," The medic corrected. "As for what you need to do, tell me your current injuries and ailments, sir."
Ben frowned. "Do you not need the medical supplies for your own men?" Ben recognized he was injured and these men appear to be well-fed, but Ben was still hesitant to take their supplies even if they had a surplus. The men might need that surplus later.
"Our general always makes sure we have more than we need," The medic smiled. "We can spare medical supplies and food."
"But it's ten-thousand people!" Ben threw up his arms in disbelief. "I can barely manage to feed a few hundred, and we aren't even fully grown. How does your general manage the logistics to feed, bandage, and arm thousands of men?"
"With terrifying skill," Stitch said pridefully. "So, what are your ailments, General?"
"Malnutrition," Ben crossed his arms like the very concept personally offended him. "I've been trying to sustain myself through the Force, but it only mitigates the need for food and sleep." Stitch's brows pinched along with Skywalker's.
"That's some high level stuff, Ben," Skywalker hesitantly complimented. "But you shouldn't do that without a Jedi Master guiding you—"
"What else am I supposed to do?" Ben snapped. These men might have seen war, but they were fighting a very different war from Ben. They had a surplus of supplies, their clothes were clean, and Ben was sure these men had a home to return to.
They knew nothing about real war. They knew nothing about starving. "Food is already stretched thin as it is, the younglings need food, and we can only steal supplies when the Elders deem a base a lost cause but they torch it half the time so that we can't get it. We catch brush mice when we can, but even that is challenging, so sometimes we have to bait traps with bits of our friends' corpses!"
Ben's chest was heaving and the Force around Ben turned sour in his fear and anger. Ben looked away from the Jedi Knight, his cheeks heating up from his outburst.
Skywalker was stunned, his mouth having dropped open and was gaping at Ben like he had grown a second head. The clones weren't faring much better, but at least they weren't openly gaping like Skywalker. Stitch was the only one who was unsurprised by Ben's tantrum.
"Right, so I'll need to run a blood test for nutrient deficiencies," Stitch muttered in the stunned silence and a medical droid came over to prick Ben's finger. Cody had come to stay by Ben's side, but Ben inched away from him, uncomfortable with the man. "I'm assuming you have a vitamin C deficiency. Which wounds are scars reopened and which are fresh?"
"My neck wound is a scar," Ben offered, trying to ignore how he was trembling after his rant. "It healed, but it reopened recently." The wound made it more difficult to look for enemies, but Ben had simply relied more on the Force to keep an eye out for hostiles.
"How'd you get it?" Skywalker's Force presence rippled with displeasure at Stitch's question. Maybe the man helped free slaves?
"Mines of Bandomeer," Ben shrugged, jutting his chin out and refusing to show weakness. He refused to be pitied. "I wore a slave collar in there for two months before I lead a slave revolt with the help of Master Qui-Gon Jinn."
"How does a padawan wind up a slave in the mines—" Skywalker burst out, and this man was really starting to tick Ben off.
"I wasn't even a padawan then! No Master wanted to take me on, so I was shipped off to the AgriCorps on Bandomeer."
Skywalker reeled back, flabbergasted. "What do you mean no one wanted to take you on as their padawan?"
"It means exactly what it sounds like! No one wanted me! I'm quick to anger, I got into fights with the other initiates, I suck at astro-nav, my saber skills are so abysmal the other initiates called me Oafy-Wan, and the only person who saw me as useful when I was an initiate was a Darksider who used me as bait for Master Jinn, except it didn't work because he didn't even notice I was missing for two months!"
Ben was breathing hard again and this time it looked like everyone was out of their depth. Ben furiously wiped at the hot tears that were now dripping down his face. Tears were a waste of clean water.
Skywalker raised a hand to Ben. Maybe it was in comfort. Maybe it was to put a barrier between him and Ben's words. Ben didn't know as his eyes rolled up into his head and a vision overtook his senses.
The creche, filled with frightened younglings and Masters already dead just outside the door. A blond child approaches a Jedi, seeking comfort. The blood and cries of younglings soon filled the room to Ben’s familiar horror. The only difference in this vision is that the lightsaber culling the Jedi looks familiar. He could feel every Jedi dying; the bright stars of the Force winking out until it was just him, Master Yoda, and two infants that shone like supernovas—
Ben came to with a sob in the back of his throat and Skywalker and Stitch holding him down. Ben was too tired to fight back. It felt like the darkness wanted to swallow him whole, to consume him until not even a whisper of his name was left.
"Ben?" Stitch said, insistent. "Ben, you just had a seizure. I need you to respond, General." General got a tired groan out of Ben.
"Creche," Ben managed to choke, still not opening his eyes. He was tired, but he still had to save people. That's what he always did. "The creche, the younglings—they're dead. I need. I need to… Master Yoda. Him and the twins. We're the only ones left."
"General, can you tell me what year it is?" There was an annoying tap on his cheek that wouldn't go away, and Ben would have swatted at it if his arms weren't so heavy.
"Don't have to listen to you anymore, Stitch," Ben slurred. "War's over and you won. Screw you. I'm not your general anymore." There was a small pause.
"Still need the year, General." "Two-fifty-twenty-four, galactic standard." Ben rattled off with great annoyance.
"Well. I don't know whether to celebrate the war having an end or plan some funerals because of your ominous warning. Either way, it certainly calls for copious amounts of alcohol. Asking about the year was a stupid question, anyway. How old are you?"
Ben's brow pinched. "Either fourteen or thirty-eight. Whichever is correct."
"I need you to pick one, General." Ben huffed and felt his chin. Beardless and dry with blood that did not belong to him.
"Fourteen."
"You cheated," There was exasperation in Stitch's voice. "Who is the current chancel—nope, can't use that one either. Hm. What're your titles?"
"Obi-Wan Kenobi, General Ben of the Young, Master of Soresu, High Jedi General—" Ben cut himself off. He wasn't that anymore. "One of the last remaining Jedi." There. That fit much better.
Stitch turned away from Ben. "Does it usually take this long for him to… rejoin time?" It sounded like the poor medic was at the end of his rope.
"I don't know!" Anakin hissed and he sounded like he already reached the end of his. "He doesn't get full visions anymore. I've never dealt with visions, and I don't know Obi-Wan's state of mind because his shields are so kriffing high. If I didn't know he was a Jedi, I would've assumed he was a Force null! He's only supposed to be a padawan, so I don't—"
"Not a padawan," Ben corrected petulantly. There was a pause. Stitch tapped on a datapad.
"How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
"Name?"
"General Ben of the Young."
"Allergies?"
"None." There was a second pause.
"You're allergic to Hoi broth. It will save you from a nasty diplomatic incident in the future. Maybe. I still don't know why you're tiny, General."
Ben cracked open an eye. "Malnourishment," He said in a crisp Coruscanti accent. Stitch barked out an incredulous laugh. Ben nodded, his job done. He could finally sleep—
"Hey, no sleeping yet," Stitch said, poking Ben in the side. How annoying. "That's not proper seizure protocol."
"Vision seizures are different," Ben rolled his eyes and rolled his entire body away from Stitch, inadvertently rolling towards Cody. "Check with Healer Che if you don't believe me." Maybe introducing Stitch to Healer Che was a mistake. Eh, that was a problem for future Ben.
"Fine, but no falling asleep and your wounds are getting wrapped by the droid while I make a few calls." Ben eyed the droid with mild distaste as it approached him.
"So, uh, Ben…" Skywalker trailed off awkwardly and Ben dragged his eyes over to the man. His eyes landed on the man's hip where his lightsaber was clipped. "Wh—" He cut himself off as Ben's carefully crafted shields shattered and the Force became flooded with Ben's fear and terror.
Skywalker lurched to cover the exit to the med-bay, only to stop when Ben hid behind Cody. Ben didn't even attempt to grab the man's blaster. The boy was trembling. Anakin did not know how react to Ben being afraid of him.
"Ben?" The knight called out hesitantly. "What—"
"Skywalker, I believe it would be best if you left," Cody interrupted, his tone professionally polite. Anakin swallowed against the lump in his throat.
"Of course," Anakin jerked a nod. "I'll just—" He gestured ineffectually at the med-bay door before leaving out said door.
Ben thought Anakin leaving would make it better. It did not. Kark, the vision is real, Ben realized with horror. He suddenly needed Anakin Skywalker to come back so that Ben could smash the lightsaber and shatter the kyber crystal to dust. But what if that simply changed how the massacre happened? Then Ben wouldn't be able to plan against it. Okay, no lightsaber, but Ben should shore up the defenses of the Temple—
"Ben," Cody interrupted Ben's thoughts. "Why are you afraid of Skywalker?" Ben shuddered and pressed himself deeper into Cody's armor. "Was it something you saw in your vision?" Ben hesitated. Would telling Cody change anything? Did the outcome already change because Cody suspected Skywalker had something to do with Ben's fear?
Ben trembling enough to rattle Cody's armor was answer enough.
"Okay," Cody hummed. "Visions. Hm. When my General gets a bad feeling, it has proven time and time again it's best to listen to him. Whatever you saw in your vision, we'll stop it." Ben avoided his eyes. His eyes landed on the blood that caked his hands, the wet blood having since dried. Ben's mind flashed to the creche. Resignation filled him. It wouldn't matter in the end, would it?
"The creche," Ben mumbled against the armor. "All the Jedi get slaughtered and I'm the only one left in the galaxy… Skywalker's lightsaber is what kills them." Cody's hold on Ben tightened and usually Ben would punch any Elder that dared restrain him, but Ben was so tired.
"Skywalker will kill the Jedi?" Cody demanded in a harsh whisper.
"No," Ben whispered back. "Visions only show one possibility and I can't be sure Skywalker was even the one wielding the lightsaber. Focus on the present, not the future, Commander." Cody relaxed at that.
"The Jedi won't die, General," Cody assured. "We'll make sure of it. Now, let's get food in you and your wounds treated."
Ben soon found himself covered in head to toe with bandages, but his annoyance of the fact was lessened when he was given a ration bar. He was half-way done eating it when Stitch emerged from his office.
"Okay, so you were right about vision-seizure protocol. You can sleep." Now that some time had passed and after talking with Cody, Ben wasn't all that tired.
"No, thank you," Ben politely declined. Stitch threw his hands up in the air in dramatic frustration.
"I knew it was too good to be true!"
Ben's cheeks heated up in embarrassment. "Fine, I'll sleep; don't make a big a deal out of it." The medic stopped his dramatics, pleasantly surprised Ben had complied so easily. Maybe Ben really wasn't as awake as he thought. As he pulled the cover around him, he wondered how he would be able to sleep in such a soft bed while others were out there fighting a war.
Ben found the answer to be all too easy.