Chapter Text
Kix was a medic. He had not only been bred to shoot blasters with deadly efficiency, strategize on the fly in the midst of enemy fire or fight for the protection of the glorious Republic. He had also been taught how to take care of the wounded, dosage medicine, do surgery and decide whether a life was worth saving or not. Back on Kamino, he hadn’t really known what the latter meant, but his first battle had more than shown him. It meant that he decided which brothers they could afford to take back to camp for treatment, whether they had enough time and recourses to save one life or should rather invest the bacta to save ten more. Being a clone medic in this war was much more about mathematics and benefit-cost analysis than anybody wanted to admit.
His job was to ensure that soldiers could fight another day.
He had not been taught how to heal sentients.
General Skywalker, genius pilot and mechanic that he was, could run the same calculations as Kix. He knew that risking ten to save the one was without merit and yet he tried it again and again and more often than not it paid off. Kix easily remembered the first battles, when Rex had returned to camp together with Skywalker against all odds because their General had decided not to leave him behind.
The part of Kix that was a brother to millions of others had appreciated that. The other half, who had been taught to rescue and repair based on credits hadn’t understood. The longer the war dragged on, the more concessions did the field medic have to make. Kamino’s training had been extensive and Kix could make it through the war relying solely on that, but he’d long since realized that it wasn’t enough if he wanted his brothers, not his soldiers, to make it out of this whole fight alive. He wasn’t supposed to spend his nights reading up on how to alleviate aching joints and figure out how prosthetics worked. The latter was much too expensive to waste on a clone, the former was unnecessary, but Kix studied it anyway and sent the necessary info to his brothers in need. The General had been a great help when it came to prosthetics considering his own arm and was supportive of the small but ever-growing group of medics under Kix’s tutelage who were outfitting their brothers with new limbs so they wouldn’t be phased out. The whole project was missing funds at every corner and Kix thanked the Force twice a day for the money that could be made in shady bars, games of chance or troublesome bets. Perhaps organizing an underground gambling ring was against regulations but Kix was resourceful. He needed money and he knew the price of blood and organs on the market. Besides, there were always more dead brothers than those who needed a transplant.
He had been made a medic because he had steady hands and a mind for numbers. He could keep track of their income and made sure it didn’t show up on the regular budgeting.
Kix had not been made to heal sentients and he had no idea how to help one who regarded himself as a soldier at best, and a mindless weapon at worst.
Kix’s knowledge of physical therapy was less than he’d like it to be and even Coric, who had had more time to invest in the medical side of their project than him, didn’t know too much about it.
Never mind how it worked for someone who didn’t even have prosthetics, yet needed to relearn how to walk.
“Fuck!” The crude curse was barely above a whisper, yet it rang loudly in the silent room.
Kix stepped over to his General, who was holding himself up by his IV-stand, to help him, but the moment he came too close to him, Anakin raised his mech-arm.
“Don’t,” he ordered. “I can do this.”
Kix had noticed that he had started to favor it, likely because it was the limb he had the most control over. They had stopped handing him breakable things to handle with his flesh hand right after he had woken up with coherence.
The first week had been a little touch-and-go in that regard with Anakin thinking he was hallucinating or worse, but by now he had his grasp on reality back and was steadfast refusing to take it slowly.
“Sir, I’m not sure you should be standing or walking yet,” Kix carefully spoke up.
Anakin’s expression twisted into a snarl. “I know what I’m doing.”
He took another step and nearly crashed to the ground again.
Kix was supposed to be sleeping, his shift was over, but everyone else involved in this mess was busy so it was left to him to watch over his patient. Who should also be sleeping but instead forced himself to walk when he obviously had neither the strength nor the coordination needed for such an activity.
This wasn’t how physical therapy worked, he was sure, but it wasn’t like he knew any better. The clones who had to relearn how to do certain actions did so in-between breaks and the battlefield. There was no time to get properly acquainted and used to it all. The General was obviously of the same school. He was always on the mover, never knew when to take a break to rest and find himself again.
Anakin moved his bare foot forward once more, this time without lifting it off the ground. His attention was laser-focused on it. When the movement was completed, he was smiling in grim satisfaction.
Kix wondered whether that had been Anakin’s approach after he had lost his arm. He pitied General Kenobi for having to deal with that.
“General Kenobi insisted that you take it easy,” Kix said out loud, hoping that mentioning the other Jedi would do something to keep Anakin from this foolish endeavor. “You don’t have to master it all at once again.”
“I do,” Anakin insisted hotly. “You don’t know what he will do if I don’t-“
He shut up, his mouth in a thin line.
He had slipped up before when he was less coherent, the aftereffects of what Kenobi had hesitantly dubbed a vision still shaking him. Anakin was afraid, downright terrified of someone and he was sharing information in bouts of panic attacks, careless comments, incredible worry, and dark anger. It wasn’t enough to make any plan of sorts or explain why the General suddenly acted as if he were a ghost haunting himself, attempting to use his body as a puppeteer might want to make their doll move.
“Will you at least take it easy as to avoid worrying the Commander any further?”
As soon as the question was out of his mouth, Kix knew he had lost this battle.
“I’m doing this for her,” Anakin answered. His words began to blur together. He was overdue for a rest, should, by all means, be sleeping just like Kix. However, unless they forced him under via sedation or a Kenobi-induced Force-suggestion, the General wouldn’t close his eyes. “All of them. I don’t have any time left.”
Time for what? Kix wanted to ask, but instead watched as Anakin took another unsteady step, refusing any and all support.
Notes:
Welcome to this terrible AU that is out to discuss how horrifying Vader's health was!
And while we're at it, let's add how terrible the Clone Wars were to the clones bc Darth "The Emperor's Executer And Weapon" Vader sure can relate.
I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, thanks for reading! Always feel free to drop a prompt in my inbox on Tumblr!
Chapter 2: A Connection: Ahsoka
Notes:
Since this story is non-linear, I'll post whatever I just wrote p much. Have fun!
This is set after a lot of Anakin's physical troubles have been covered. Time to remember Ahsoka is actually a child fighting a war so there's that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ahsoka knew that her apprenticeship was anything but ordinary. Her Master hadn’t picked her out of her clan after seeing qualities he thought he could nurture, but Ahsoka had been chosen by Anakin nevertheless. At the beginning of their partnership, she had had her doubts whether they had been truly made for one another or if Anakin wouldn’t see another Initiate at the temple when they were allowed shore leave and found somebody stronger, better. But her Master, unconventional as he might be, had picked her again and again. Perhaps bonds forged in the aftermath of tragedy and victory were stronger than any other. Nobody could doubt that when watching Obi-Wan and Anakin fight together. They continuously supported one another, made up for each other’s weaknesses and strengths.
Ahsoka wanted Anakin to be able to rely on her like that as well. She wanted, no, needed to be a pillar for him.
Now more than ever, or so it seemed.
Anakin had always been unusual. He was the Chosen One, even if he disliked the title and would prefer it if everybody just forgot about it. He also had a very loose relationship with the code and how a Jedi should conduct themselves in public. He taught Ahsoka mantras about peace while they were practicing ‘saber stances in mock combat. He also never had a problem with openly showing his affection. If anything, he had a hard time avoiding doting too much on the people he cared about. Whenever they had made it out of another bloodbath with death still clinging to them, the last words of dead soldiers still echoing in the Force, he made sure to hold her close.
“Stop listening to that,” he said. “Focus only on me.”
It was easier to let go of it all when Anakin’s warmth and heartbeat reassured her that this battle at least was over. They didn’t always win, they didn’t always lose. It was difficult to see a silver lining when every battle appeared to have the same result. But as long as enough people survived and they were still here, Ahsoka thought he could keep marching for another day.
Most Jedi divided their lives into before the war and after. Ahsoka couldn’t do that, not anymore. The peaceful days of her childhood seemed so far away. When she tried to think of idyllic afternoons spent in the temple gardens, all she could picture were her fellow Padawans trading history and diplomacy lessons for battle strategies and military conduct. For her, instead, it was now before when Anakin was still alright and after when he was hurting. She didn’t entirely understand what had happened, why exactly he had collapsed on that battlefield, but she wouldn’t ever forget the sight. For a brief moment, he had looked at her in childish wonder, as if she were an ethereal sign of gods Jedi didn’t pray to, then he had dropped to his knees, screaming like the child at the sight of their dying parents.
The intense feeling of pain, of being set aflame, haunted her still.
She had gathered the basics since despite everyone’s attempt to keep her out of the situation that had changed her Master so radically in the past months. She had learned about visions of a horrible future lived, but Ahsoka didn’t understand how it could be so horrible that her Master could forget how to walk and eat, treated his body like an extension of his blade.
“This lightsaber is your life,” he had said after she’d lost it for the first time in his presence. He had been serious, but a hint of amusement had shown through as to be expected from the Jedi Knight who was a little infamous for his many trips to Ilum.
Now it appeared as if he thought his life was the blade instead.
He still checked up on her, ensured that she was healthy, but even the softest and most gentle of touches made him uncomfortable and freeze up. It was easy to see how much he longed for contact, yet he seemed terrified of it. Ahsoka hated it. A good Jedi didn’t hate, but her lineage was made up of mavericks, even Master Obi-Wan. For all that he claimed to be the sane one, Ahsoka saw the looks other Jedi sent him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention, too caught up in explaining his latest battle strategy. So Ahsoka figured this distance, this pain Anakin was experiencing, she could be allowed to hate.
For all that her emotions ran so deeply though, Ahsoka couldn’t bring herself to knock on Anakin’s door. She knew he was awake. She could count the hours she had caught him sleeping in the last weeks on two hands with fingers left over. It was ridiculous. She shouldn’t need comforting because of a stupid nightmare. She had had plenty of those since the war began. They didn’t even include any special warnings of the Force, just endless battlefields and ruined planets.
Mind already half-made up, Ahsoka turned around when the door suddenly opened. Anakin looked tired, he always did. The deep bags under his eyes had become as permanent as the suffering in the galaxy and, on top of that, he had also lost weight.
“Credit for your thoughts?” He said.
His voice was so flat. He made breaks in his sentences in regular intervals that made no sense to her and added a strange intonation to it all.
“I- I couldn’t sleep,” Ahsoka admitted. “I had a nightmare.”
She sounded like a helpless youngling, it was awful. She should be stronger than this. She was a Padawan already.
Anakin studied her, then stepped away from the door to let her inside, all while making sure that he was within arm’s length distance, never touching her.
Anakin’s bed was freshly made, or perhaps he had never even sat down in it. The sight offended Ahsoka so much, she decided to claim it for herself and dropped down on the blankets. Anakin meanwhile kept standing. That was another habit he had picked up since Ahsoka’s new divide.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.
Ahsoka shook her head. She didn’t want to describe how she had seen Obi-Wan getting impaled on Grievous’s stolen lightsabers, Barriss being locked up and tortured, Anakin burning bright-
“Can I- can I have a hug?” Ahsoka’s voice sounded so small, even to herself.
Anakin’s eyes widened and surprise, fear, and apprehension took over his expression. That was another new thing. He couldn’t really keep the expressions he made under control. It was getting better already, but it was far from the usual calm and neutrality Jedi tried to show.
“Ahsoka, I’m not-“
“Please? I don’t want to be alone in my head.”
Silence followed her statement, then Anakin slowly sat down next to her. Their thighs were barely touching. He was so tense as if he was ready to bolt any second, afraid of being hurt or hurting her- she couldn’t tell. He put his arms around her shoulders and Ahsoka buried her face in the crook of his neck. She didn’t cry, didn’t want to show how everything was too much. Her shoulders trembled either way.
“Focus,” Anakin mumbled, half-order and half-plea. “Just focus on me. The universe becomes smaller. There is just this planet. Just this ship. Just this room. Just me. Focus on nothing but me. There are no nightmares here.”
Anakin’s hold on her slowly became a little tighter, a little more comfortable, a little more like the hugs they used to share.
They were going to get there again. Everything would be alright.
Notes:
Thank you for reading!
I hope you enjoyed it, feel free to drop by on Tumblr!
Chapter 3: A Place: The Temple
Notes:
In my defense, you asked for it.
First trip to the temple post time travel :D
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Anakin had paled the closer they had come to Coruscant. The moment the planet had been withing sights, he’d looked ready to either bolt or launch a full-on attack on al the horrors he had dreamed of. Nowadays, most of Anakin’s reactions could be systematically sorted to fight-or-flight, all the curiosity that used to follow with his brashness was gone. As much as it had frustrated Obi-Wan, he missed it now. Those times had been easier, didn’t involve a Sith actually being in charge of the Republic. Obi-Wan thoroughly regretted discarding Dooku’s words years ago. Had he listened, been more open to the idea of another Jedi Master betraying all their values, perhaps it all wouldn’t have come as far as Anakin’s terror-filled nights suggested.
“Ready?” Obi-Wan asked as their shuttle landed in one of the smallest hanger bays. They hadn’t announced their arrival loudly on purpose and were, by all means, sneaking in from the back entrance.
Anakin didn’t even turn to look at him. He just stood straight as if he were in a military debriefing, his hands firmly clasped behind his back.
“Yes.”
Ahsoka exchanged a look with Obi-Wan. She wasn’t his Padawan, but she had quickly picked up on their silent communication to send him a look that perfectly expressed her disbelief and the suggestion that perhaps they should stay on the ship just a little while longer, give Anakin some time to get used to being on-planet before they rushed into the temple.
But then the door opened and Anakin, seemingly unaware of what had transpired beneath his nose, marched out like he was strolling through a battlefield, his army behind him and the enemy in front. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan followed him quickly, Ahsoka to his left and Obi-Wan on his right. They swiftly crossed the hanger and made their way to the lifts. The one here wasn’t used particularly often, it was a little out of the way considering the temple’s layout.
“We’re meeting with the Council tomorrow,” Obi-Wan said, simply to make conversation. The air surrounding him felt heavy, like a blanket of stones on his shoulders. “More Council members will be on-planet then and don’t have to be excluded due to long-range communication.”
They had decided that the delicate information Anakin was carrying mustn’t be intercepted by anybody. No matter how secure their lines were, there was always the chance a clever slicer could figure out how to tap into them. Their debriefing would exclude all members who weren’t present in person, but perhaps it was also for the best that they were a smaller group. That way there would be fewer people asking questions and demanding explanations.
Anakin made no sign that he had heard Obi-Wan. He looked distracted, his blue eyes dark and focusing on nothing in particular, just staring at the empty halls. Obi-Wan was glad they had arrived in the early morning when most inhabitants of the temple were busy studying and doing their daily duties instead of rushing through the many passages.
“We’re going to our quarters then?” Ahsoka asked. “The kitchen will be empty, want me to grab something?”
“A light meal would be beneficial,” Obi-Wan mused. His eyes darted to Anakin. He still showed no reaction. His expression was frustratingly unreadable and he had buried his presence deep in the Force. All the instances where he had been unable to keep his face neutral since his awakening flashed before Obi-Wan’s mind he couldn’t correlate that man with the one in front of him.
Anakin had hinted that he hadn’t been in the temple since the creation of the Sith Empire, though he hadn’t been particularly clear on it, nor how the Jedi had been driven out of it.
There were no survivors, he had said and left it at that.
The thought made him sick. It must have been a bloodbath. All their old, the sick, the younglings- Obi-Wan let the thought go. He couldn’t afford to pursue it.
“You and Skyguy will be alright?” Ahsoka asked hesitantly.
“Yes, Padawan,” Obi-Wan replied. “We’ll start cleaning up, see if we can unearth Anakin’s bed from his latest project.”
“And get my room set up?” Ahsoka teased.
Obi-Wan pulled a face. Right. They keep meaning to clean up the room that had turned into Anakin’s greenhouse/workstation and Obi-Wan’s storage to make space for Ahsoka, but they still hadn’t. It was rare all three of them actually needed to be in their rooms at the same time, shuffling around the beds and sofa had become a little too commonplace.
“Why not?” Obi-Wan said. “Might as well use the evening.”
They turned around the corner, getting closer to the place where their rooms were hosted.
“-can’t catch me!”
“Sors, wait!”
Faster than they had any right to be, two younglings ran down the hallway they were just going to turn into. The children saw the trio too late and before they could stop on the slippery ground, crashed right into them.
“Wah!” The blond human boy fell to the ground in front of them while his green Twi’lek companion managed to catch herself on Ahsoka’s robes.
“You should be more careful,” Ahsoka said as the girl let go of her.
Blushing brightly the child, only an Initiate going by her lack of braid, bowed. “Sorry! We’re running an errand for Master Terrak. Sors, c’mon, get up.”
“Y-yeah, uh, sorry!” The boy stuttered and hurried to his feet. His eyes were wide with admiration and darted between the three of them as if he couldn’t decide who to focus on the longest. He too bowed and then, in a more moderate pace, walked past them together with his friend. After only a few glances thrown over their shoulders, the two were back to running, certainly about to cause another accident.
“Good to know the temple is as lively as always,” Obi-Wan sighed. “Let’s continue.”
But Anakin didn’t move. He stood frozen as solid as a block of ice, entirely void in the Force. Obi-Wan could still see him, but if not for that, he wouldn’t believe his Padawan was actually there.
“Anakin?”
Obi-Wan held out his hand, giving Anakin the time to see that he was approaching him, but Anakin still didn’t move.
“Anakin, can you hear me?”
But Anakin still didn’t react at all.
“Master?” Ahsoka tried but her attempt yielded the same results.
The two of them exchanged a look. Anakin had gone still like this before, they had worked out how to deal with it as well, but they hadn’t expected it to happen here, removed from the front. It wasn’t far to their rooms from here, and finding a safe place for the eventual escalation while they were in the middle of the temple was unlikely.
“Go ahead,” Obi-Wan told Ahsoka. “Make sure nobody else is there.”
She nodded and, after shooting Anakin another worried look, rushed off into the direction of their quarters.
“Right,” Obi-Wan muttered. He tried to project as much calmness and peace as he could as he took Anakin’s hand and began guiding him down the corridor.
He started talking about whatever came to his mind, eventually settling on recounting history lessons on how and when the temple was built, stories Anakin had heard countless times since he had come to the temple. His Padawan had said that he appreciated white noise of any kind, just reminders that he wasn’t alone here and that it was no elaborate hallucination and so Obi-Wan stumbled through stories. Anakin tended to remove himself from others nowadays, but no matter how much he closed himself off from everybody, it was written all over his every gesture that he hated being left alone. His Padawan had become a walking contradiction right in front of Obi-Wan’s eyes and he hadn’t been there to witness the change, only the aftermath.
They turned into another corridor and Anakin was still staring at shades Obi-Wan couldn’t see. At the very end of the hallway, Ahsoka was already waiting for them. When Obi-Wan ushered Anakin into their quarters, she closed the door behind them. Obi-Wan guided Anakin towards their sofa and like a doll whose strings had been cut, Anakin followed him and sat down on the light pillows. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Obi-Wan registered that Ahsoka must have used the couple minutes of her headstart to also clean up their living room a little, pack away the small and breakable things, not that there weren’t still plenty of objects Anakin could break apart when he lashed out.
Obi-Wan would prefer it if it were a question of if and not when, but that wasn’t going to be the case. He should have forced Anakin to wait another month, they could have forwarded potential intel on the war effort over the comms without needed to check in with the Council. Obi-Wan could have gone on his own and told them about Sidious. There were countless ways they could have avoided this reaction, but perhaps they would have only delayed it.
“Ahsoka-“
“I’ll keep the room standing,” she said quickly. “You get him out of his head.”
Obi-Wan let out a slow breath and took Anakin’s metallic hand in his as well, then he closed his eyes. He was fairly sure that if an actual mind healer saw this, they’d try to tear him off Anakin and their rather brute solution to helping him.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, speaking his presence into existence not just in the real world, but also in the Force.
It used to be so easy to connect with Anakin. He had to give barely the softest of nudges to his shields and not even a second later Anakin was taking up much more space in Obi-Wan’s mind than it was strictly speaking polite to. It made them better partners, on and off the battlefield. Knowing what the other was up to a split second before anybody else was a huge advantage. They fought well together, achieving synchronicity like no other.
But that too had been of a time before the horrible revelations of the future that awaited them. Now any of such actions didn’t even seem to register as anything on Anakin’s radar. His shields were stronger than the foundations of the very temple they lived in. Anakin reacted to violent force quicker than to any gentle persuasion, had become numb to the latter, but Obi-Wan wouldn’t ever hurt his Padawan intentionally. He couldn’t, even if he had Anakin’s permission to do as needed for the mission.
He only ever talked about what needed to be done, how he could be utilized in the best way, never about actions they couldn’t allow themselves to suffer from.
Come back, Anakin. I’m not hurting you. You’re safe.
It took a while until Anakin started to track the happiness Obi-Wan attempted to show him. His thoughts reminded Obi-Wan of a caged beast, shown kindness for the first time and not recognizing the shape of it.
We’re home, Obi-Wan tried again and only then Anakin began to slowly open the iron doors he had shut himself behind.
Obi-Wan?
Obi-Wan let out a relieved sigh and began to smile, strained but joyful. He reached out a little further, deeper into Anakin’s space. He knew what would come now, braced himself for the impact, but that hardly did anything to lessen the hurt of the assault that followed.
Anakin lashed out, violently. Not with his ‘saber, he had given that to Obi-Wan before they had boarded the shuttle even, but with his mind. It felt like being pressed in-between two burning suns, slowly crushing him beneath their gravity. Flames licked at his bones and he was pulled under the crashing waves of exploding stars.
Jedi didn’t shield like this, they protected themselves with calm, peace and stability. Obi-Wan knew that those emotions only had a place down in the very core of Anakin’s mind where he disappeared to when he wasn’t careful. Before that lingered centuries of torment.
Still, Obi-Wan endured until he could finally get a hold on Anakin. As slow as he had been in reaching out, the faster he was with taking Anakin with him. He pulled Anakin out of his nightmare, catching glimpses of fire and screams, voices he couldn’t place.
And then, finally, there was silence and balance holding itself together with duct tape and safety pins. Obi-Wan felt as Anakin fell forwards, his head coming to rest on Obi-Wan’s collarbone. His breathing was shallow, forced and counted, following a steady rhythm and pattern that was too artificial to be subconscious.
“Master?” Ahsoka spoke up softly, addressing the both of them, even though Obi-Wan was the only one who was really in shape to answer her.
“Everything alright,” Obi-Wan retorted and slowly opened his eyes. Their living room was, as predicted, a bit of a mess.
Back on their ships there wasn’t much for Anakin to tear out of the walls and throw to the air, but here there was plenty. Obi-Wan was pleased to see that all their shelves and cupboards were still standing and nothing important had gotten damaged. Ahsoka’s control had grown considerably since he had first met her. He was incredibly proud of how far she had come.
“Well done keeping our quarters intact,” he told her.
Ahsoka pulled a face, her eyes darting to the broken glass on the ground, the datapads and mechanical pieces lying around, the destroyed plants and pots – it looked like a hurricane had rushed through their home, shattering everything it could get its hands on.
“Anakin, is he-“
“Alright,” Obi-Wan finished for her. “He’s alright.”
Anakin didn’t let go of Obi-Wan’s hands or made any sign of moving, so Obi-Wan let him be. He was present again in the Force, trying to reorientate himself as if he had woken miles away from the place he was supposed to be.
“What happened?” Ahsoka asked.
“I don’t-“ Master Skywalker, there are too many of them! “-know. I’m not sure.”
The images in his mind, the leftovers from Anakin’s memories, were disorientating at best, horrible confusing at worst. He had thought he had seen the temple burning, but the memory hadn’t been clear. It was like trying to look through deep fog, beyond knowing that something was out there, you had no idea what was going on. The only thing Obi-Wan was now certain of now was that they needed somebody who had actual practice in the mind arts and could guide Anakin properly. Of course, that also meant that they had to be someone Anakin was willing to give access to his shields and he strongly doubted that there was a viable candidate.
“I’m sorry.”
Anakin’s voice pulled Obi-Wan out of his thoughts. His grip on Obi-Wan’s hands tightened. He didn’t lift his head, kept his face hidden. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“
“Everything will be alright. We’re going to fix it.”
Obi-Wan had learned better than to make impossible promises, but this wasn’t one. He would ensure that their future wouldn’t end as horrible as the one Anakin had lived through. There simply wasn’t any other option.
“The children,” Anakin started again. “All of them- they walked into the creche, to the babies and toddlers-“
Anakin’s voice began to rise again.
“It won’t happen here,” Obi-Wan pressed. “We won’t let it.”
He wanted to know what exactly they had to prevent, but for now his assurances appeared to be enough as Anakin relaxed in his arms. Obi-Wan felt drained. He was glad they had pushed the meeting to tomorrow, he doubted he’d be able to sit through that now, never mind Anakin’s own mental state. Perhaps they could even reschedule the briefing once more. Tomorrow would come way too soon.
“Let’s just stay here for a while,” Obi-Wan said. “We can clean up another time.”
Ahsoka grimaced the chaos around them with disdain. “Yeah, right. Dibs on your bed tonight.”
“Whatever you want dear,” Obi-Wan replied. “I think you deserve a good night’s-“
Obi-Wan was interrupted by loud banging against their front door.
“Kenobi!” Somebody shouted intensely. “Is everything alright!? Open up!”
What could anybody possibly want now that warranted such a reaction? Couldn’t they be left alone in the temple for even five minutes-
Obi-Wan cursed under his breath. He’d been so stupid. Back on the ship, there usually weren’t any more Jedi than them, they hadn’t needed to watch out for anybody catching backlash in the Force. Now back in the temple, there were thousands who could feel the Force. Anakin’s breakdown definitely hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Ahsoka-“
“On it,” the Padawan replied and swiftly got up to reassure the worried parties at their front door that nobody was getting tortured in their rooms.
Notes:
Canon: Everybody has their own room
Me: Anakin never moved out and Ahsoka never properly moved in bc there is a war going on and also I need all three of them to just fall asleep on Obi-Wan's bed in this essay-This chapter didn't want to be written because I wanted it to be perfect. I'm kinda alright with how it turned out so there's that. I'd love to hear what you think! (Bonus points to everybody who know who the kid is without googling.)
And thank you all for your many comments!
Chapter 4: A Turning Point: The Council
Chapter Text
Mace’s day had gone from bad to worse with an hour of Kenobi-Skywalker-Tano being in vicinity. The trio truly managed to always bring chaos and destruction with them, no matter how polite Obi-Wan smiled or Skywalker managed to distract from it by pointing towards the bigger evil. They had been granted shore leave – and wasn’t it bitter to think of such when they were not supposed to be warriors? – for a week to sort out whatever terrifying discovery they had made, but Mace was beginning to think that it would take longer than that.
Skywalker’s breakdown this morning had been painful. Mace was especially sensitive to emotions running rampant. It was one of the reasons why standing next to the supernova that was Skywalker could be distracting at times. He still had a headache and didn’t want to know what the aftermath would have looked like if Obi-Wan hadn’t been there, pulling risky mind healing techniques he had not been educated in, to keep Skywalker’s shock from putting half the temple to their knees.
It had certainly left its marks on Obi-Wan. While Skywalker was sleeping soundly in the presence of his Padawan, his clone medic and Vokara, Obi-Wan stood in front of the Council, exhaustion running deep.
“Obi-Wan,” Mace started, foregoing all formalities. “What happened to Skywalker? Your reports stated he wasn’t fit for actually standing on the battlefield and providing any kind of back up that isn’t handing out orders, but not this.”
Obi-Wan was struggling to keep his expression neutral, but in the end, his tiredness won out as he sank back into his chair. “I am aware. We miscalculated and didn’t expect him to have such an adverse reaction to being back.”
“You are not making a lot of sense,” Plo Koon spoke up.
“I know, I apologize. We were not planning to start our briefing by talking about Anakin’s condition. He didn’t want to mention it at all, but his medic, Kix, persuaded him. It was not supposed to overshadow other details and I don’t actually know all the details as it falls under doctor-patient-confidentiality.”
Obi-Wan paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think Anakin wants me to know anything beyond what I need to keep him in check.”
He sounded as if he were quoting, taking words Skywalker had bestowed upon him.
Mace could feel coldness rest upon his bones, fear attempt to take a hold of him. Whatever discovery they had made, it must be gruesome that it could break Skywalker so and still have him consider his own tattered mind an afterthought to be dealt with at a later date. He couldn’t even imagine anything that would require keeping Skywalker in-check. He was reckless at times, brash, and his control could be better, but he was an excellent Jedi. Anakin wanted to protect people and his trust, while hard-earned, was easily given.
So what had caused a Knight of his caliber to be in such pain?
“Obi-Wan, what can you tell us?” Shaak Ti asked, her tone reminiscent more of a Master’s talking to their worried Padawan.
“We know the identity of the Sith Lord.”
Obi-Wan’s words cut through the air like a sharp blade. For a moment Mace thought he had misheard him, that they couldn’t have just stumbled upon such critical information.
“Sure you are?” Yoda asked, the kind of seriousness you gained only after centuries lingering in his voice.
In moments like these, it was easy to see the strength that upheld the grandmaster of the Order, the fierce protectiveness that guarded them even in times like these and grieved deeply for every life lost when they couldn’t afford to stop on the battlefield.
Obi-Wan let out a bitter laugh, the trembling of his shoulders much closer to the body language of a grieving man on the verge of tears.
“Anakin remembers close to twenty years of torture under Darth Sidious and all his claims make sense. It’s all so clear to me now, we were so blind to all his schemes, waking into a trap.”
“Twenty-years?”
“A vision,” Obi-Wan elaborated, then hesitantly. “Or something similar enough to it. He seems to think of it as time travel.”
“Impossible.”
“That’s what I thought as well, but do you know what else could explain it? He just collapsed in the aftermath of a clean-up and when he woke, he didn’t feel like Anakin anymore. Not the way I knew him to, there was just so much suffering.”
What Mace would remember, even years down the line, was the haunted look on Obi-Wan’s face. For a man who had lost his Master to the first Sith in centuries, slew it and then continued on raising a Padawan and leading a war to show such open horror was downright frightening.
“We need to talk to him right now,” Oppo Rancisis voiced what they all thought. If Skywalker had such critical information, they needed it. They had to end this war as quickly as possible and yet-
“No,” Mace said. All eyes turned to him. None of them were displeased by it, most looked thankful. The war had made it so that they needed to hold back as to avoid giving the Senate, or the Chancellor as it were, even more reason to put the Jedi under direct control. They had to compromise their values, raise an entire generation during wartime all while fighting endless battles without being able to protest against it. Here, in their home at least, they could still execute some measure of control. “Skywalker is hurting and we have not yet fallen so far that we unconditionally sacrifice the wellbeing of our own. Obi-Wan, how much has Skywalker revealed to you?”
From the way Obi-Wan sighed in frustration, Mace suspected that it wasn’t much.
“Only a fraction of what he knows I suspect. He told me of a few critical battles and Separatist strongholds. Mostly, his thoughts have been occupied attempting to figure how quickly he can kill Sidious without the Republic descending into chaos as a result.”
For the months Skywalker had been at least partially out of commission, though Mace wondered how he had been planning any battles at all given this morning’s episode, the 501st and 212th, when not demanded elsewhere, had chosen their destinations rather liberally. Mace had suspected that they had an informant, a man on the inside, as more and more of their campaigns had been successful. The possibility of Skywalker having had a vision of such a magnitude was still unbelievable, but it was entering the realm of possible.
“Why would it descend into chaos?” Shaak asked.
“Because Darth Sidious currently holds all the power,” Obi-Wan spat out, control receding completely and the fiery anger he had been known for as an Initiate showing itself. “He’s the Chancellor. Sheev Palpatine is the Sith Lord and if we don’t take him out soon, he will burn the Republic to the ground to build his Empire.”
And the world cracked, revealing shatterpoints of stunning clarity.
Notes:
Anyway, stan Mace Windu. Local Master wants to keep his fellow Jedi save and does actually like Anakin, in this essay-
But yeah, Obi-Wan is not having a good day. While Anakin is out of commission, recovering from his panic attack, he gets to do all the fun reveals despite not having all the information. This is why you never do group projects with only one person having all the cards. Somebody let Obi-Wan catch a break. The day isn't even over yet.
Chapter 5: A Process: The Report
Notes:
Me: *doesn't update for a month*
Also Me: *writes two chapters in 3 days*Have fun!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Kix was incredibly thankful that Master Che – Call me Vokara, Kix – had given him unrestrained access to the Halls of Healing. While it had been necessary for his research, learning more about physical therapy as a whole, it also came with the great bonus of access to the pills that made your mind clear up a little after crashing. It was supposed to be taken after long shifts, but Kix had gathered that it was usually given to anybody in a less fortunate state of mind that needed to get a clear head, such as Senior Padawans who had been out all night in the Lower levels and had a mission on the next day.
The last week had been hellish between accumulating whatever insights they could get from General Skywalker on his and trying to put together a physical therapy program for somebody who should be as healthy as a bantha. The fact that the Council had called upon them for the final report and Kix as the head researcher was supposed to lay out their findings was also not the highlight of this week.
“Medic Kix,” one of the Council members greeted him. “Master Che, Master Erin, Medic Coric, thank you for taking the time to present us your findings.”
Most Council members were off-world again already so the circle in front of him wasn’t particularly large. Kix wished that General Kenobi would be here at least, but he and the 212th had to be called back to battle. The 501st was to follow soon, but whether their General could come with them relied on Kix’s report. He had sworn not embellish anything, to pretend his General was better off than he appeared to be, but he was tempted to do so. He couldn’t help it, he didn’t want to go anywhere without knowing that his General had his back. He didn’t mind working with another Jedi, they were all equally kind and good, but they weren’t Anakin Skywalker.
And Kix would rather have Anakin, exhausted and terrified out of his mind, with him, than a stranger, no matter how kind.
“It is of no trouble, Master Jedi,” Kix replied.
This was another thing Kix had noticed during his stay at the temple. The Jedi refused to use military titles for themselves inside of it. They were Masters, Healers, Knights Padawans – but they were not Generals or Commanders. Kix and his brothers, of course, got addressed by their proper titles, spoken with honor and an edge of regret, but that was it.
“You have been taking care of Anakin from the beginning?” General Koon asked.
Kix liked Plo Koon. The Kel Door took good care of the men under his command and he was always ready to make sure Kix’s little Commander was in good fighting shape when she was in his care.
“Yes,” Kix replied. “Coric and I were the ones who oversaw the General’s transport back to the ship and then consequently watched over him for the week he was comatose.”
“Were the injuries he gained in the battle so severe?”
Kix shook his head. “No, not at all. It was an easy campaign all in all.”
“From my understanding of the events, as Kix elaborated them, Knight Skywalker experienced an immense shock when he was hit by the vision,” Vokara explained. “Consequently, he was disorientated and must have experienced sensory overload. His collapse was his body’s attempt at shutting him down to give himself time to deal with the onslaught of memories and unfamiliarity of his body.”
When they had attempted to figure out why muscle memory alone wasn’t keeping Anakin upright, Vokara had brought up pieces of Jedi philosophy so far unknown to Kix. Jedi viewed bodies as conduits of the Force. Only in a healthy body could rest a healthy mind and only a healthy mind could access the Force. It was the reason that Anakin’s one prosthetic was already viewed with so much heartbreak. Kix supposed it made everything that came after only worse.
“Can Skywalker be sent back with the 501st?” Master Koon continued, directly cutting to the most difficult part.
“Under normal circumstances, I’d say no. I don’t think he should ever actually handle combat at all again. While physically he will be back on top of his game within a few weeks, if not surpass it still, I cannot condone such an action when taking his mental health into account.”
While the Jedi all tried to keep a neutral expression, Kix had been trained to deal with the most stubborn no-I’m-not-injured-I-promise brothers and I-can-hold-off-an-army-on-my-own Jedi and he could easily spot when somebody was starting to slip. The Jedi were surprised, not at the latter aspect, it was clear as day that the General was far from possessing a healthy mind, they wondered about his strength.
“Councilors, if I may suggest, I believe it would be best if we started with our report now,” Kix inserted. “It will answer a lot of questions as to Master Skywalker’s precise condition.”
He wondered if he was already crossing lines, trying to make it all out to be better than it was just by taking their attention away from how the General was right now instead of how he could be, had been.
“Proceed you may,” Master Yoda said grimly.
Hearing how much stronger their enemy was, how he was luring them all towards their death, must have greatly disturbed the old Master. Kix thought of the old clones back on Kamino, those who hadn’t made it to the front lines and watched the Shinies instead. And he thought of the war veterans, those who had been on Geonosis. They all had the same look in their eyes when they assigned the should-be-still-cadets to the frontlines. The sadness for being responsible for the deaths of so many young lives, it was not easy to bear.
“Three months ago, in the aftermath of a campaign, Knight Anakin Skywalker collapsed,” Kix began to say, his eyes not even flickering to the text on the datapad he was holding. “He froze, then Force-pushed the nearest troopers away from him and lost consciousness. He had no visible injuries and was brought to the medbay for further examination. After twenty-four hours, he woke for the first time. He reacted with similar panic and it took multiple sedations as well as Master Obi-Wan Kenobi using a Force-suggestion to put him to sleep again. This manner continued for another five days.”
Those five days had been some of the worst Kix had to experience during the entire war so far. Coric and he had run themselves ragged to keep an eye on their General, never mind how exhausted Master Kenobi had been after staying awake for so long.
“He was catatonic when he woke up after this time period. Even while awake, he didn’t react to anything. He needed a breathing machine and we fed him intravenously. He snapped out of it after another three days…”
Kix trailed off. When they had discussed how they would present their findings, they had decided that Kix would speak of all events he had been there to witness with Vokara contributing the Jedi perspective. Bant and Coric didn’t actually need to be present for this, but they had all worked through this report together, they should do this together as well.
“As, at the time, no professional mind healer could make it to the 501st-“ Vokara’s voice was professionally cold, but after all these evenings spend in her office or apartment, Kix could hear the bitterness that was seeping into it. “Master Kenobi decided to take it upon himself to help Skywalker’s splintered mind. He was successful, though I believe that is largely due to the bond the two share and want it noted on Master Kenobi’s file that he is herby prohibited from attempting to do the same with any other Jedi. It could have backfired incredibly easily and then we would have lost two Jedi instead of one.”
The Council nodded in agreement and Vokara quickly swiped away their open report to replace it with her file on General Kenobi. She added a small note there, then changed the documents once more.
“When Master Skywalker finally properly woke up then, he was still confused and disorientated. It took a full day before he could breathe and speak on his own, both aftereffects of what he experienced in his vision,” Kix continued.
The General’s hoarse words had been difficult to understand. For one because it had felt like he hadn’t known how to string them together properly, on the other because of the low volume. The General was always loud which made it easy to spot him in a crowd. To hear him speak so silently was the first sign that something had been wrong.
“I have so far classified his experience as a new type of vision,” Vokara explained. “Our research on temporal physics is limited, I do not know if his claims of time travel are accurate, but it was certainly no normal vision. Not even Master Sifo-Dyas had experienced a vision as such. Skywalker has experienced twenty years’ worth of memories, hence his body being uncomfortable to him.”
“Forgive me my question,” Shaak Ti said. “But from the brief account Master Kenobi gave us, I had gathered that Skywalker was experiencing something more akin to body dysphoria than merely feeling uncomfortable.”
“That would be correct,” Vokara retorted and then sighed in defeat. “Or as correct as it can be. I will be honest, we are missing terminology to properly definite Skywalker’s condition. To put it simply, Skywalker is hardly used to having a body. From his account, and what we have gathered based on physical reactions, Skywalker spent twenty years with about 65% of his body having been replaced. In other words, only 35% of himself was still organic.”
“What!?” The hiss of one of the Councilors rang like an accusation through the room.
Horror, shock and nausea washed through the air so strongly that even Kix could feel it, be it though that he wasn’t even the slightest bit Force-sensitive. He understood their recoiling even without the pain that their understanding of life and the Force brought them. He half-expected the windows to crack under the might of their outrage, used to such displays from his General.
“He had lost both his legs as well as his remaining arm. It is the reason Master Skywalker spend the first days after his awakening in a wheelchair, though he refused to use it for long. He had to relearn how to walk. His fine-motor control is also still lacking slightly, his current prosthetic arm being the one he has the best handling of. His digestive system was also severely damaged and barely anything remained from his lungs. He was dependent on intravenous feeding and a breathing machine that he could manually override, but only at great cost to himself. Additionally, to his lungs, his vocal tract was also damaged to the degree that he needed a vocoder to speak.”
“And how did he sustain those injuries in his vision?” Master Koon asked. He had his hands laying folded on his lap. No movement betrayed him, but Kix distinctly got the impression that he was attempting to hold himself back from doing something rash.
“We aren’t entirely sure. Master Skywalker has been reluctant to share how exactly he came to be injured in such a way,” Kix stated. Reluctant was the most diplomatic way of describing how haunted General Skywalker had looked when Kix had just alluded to the topic. He hadn’t shut down, but the expression on his face, utter terror bathed in fear, had been enough. “The event must have been highly traumatic and evidence points towards him being burned alive, likely while he was completely conscious for it. He mentioned needed skin grafts on multiple occasions and is extremely uncomfortable around fire.”
Kix felt a little like he was betraying his General by sharing such information behind his back. Of course, Skywalker had been made aware that there would be an extensive report on his condition, but he likely thought it was just about his capability to return to the battlefield. The General didn’t seem to really consider that his mental health mattered as well. Kix was not one of the medics particularly schooled in psychiatry, Coric had started looking more into it and so he and Master Erin had been the one to draft a psychological profile on Skywalker, based on what they knew about his future-past.
They hadn’t gathered much yet, but that part of their report was about as pretty as the rest.
“And he lived with all those injuries for twenty years?” The hopeful disbelief, the want for it all to be a lie, was apparent.
Jedi were not in the habit of being in denial, speaking the harsh truths the senators seldom wanted to hear, but that didn’t mean that they wanted to accept it all.
“A little more, actually,” Kix was forced to admit. “I believe it was around twenty-five. He had made references to such years existing. The cause of his own death is unknown as well, though it was possibly the result of his failing health.”
“And, additionally, we have been led to believe that he spent most of those years being extensively tortured by the Sith Lord keeping him.”
“Master Kenobi had already mentioned so,” Plo Koon said.
Kix nodded slowly. He wished General Kenobi would be here now, listening to them give the report instead of reading it on his own onboard the Negotiator. The paper they had written was clinical, factual, but Kix had long since realized that there was a time and place for hard facts and gentle truths.
“I am aware, but Master Kenobi is not aware of the extent we believe this torture to have reached. Skywalker has mentioned Sith Lightning and apparently knows how to disperse it within the body instead of just bearing it and survive. This implies that he was exposed to it multiple times, likely not with the intention of killing him, and learned from those sessions.”
“How have you concluded all that?”
Kix and Vokara shared a look. Their report had already been all over the place, more a discussion than a systematic rundown of what looked like hell come alive.
“Perhaps, best we start at the beginning?” General Yoda spoke up.
The Master, though powerful he was, appeared so old now, almost frail like every gust of wind could swipe him away. And yet there was this determination in his eyes, the willingness and need to know what harm would come to them.
“That would be the easiest,” Vokara replied and began anew.
Kix had written this report, read it about a thousand times and repeated it to others as well. Its content was familiar to him, the words he knew by heart, and still, at times, he found himself caught off-guard. Worst was when Vokara, though she kept a distance to the topic at hand, would sometimes need to read a sentence twice. The two of them had seen gruesome injuries, Jedi and Brothers alike die of less than what General Skywalker had lived through.
Which was the precise reason why they needed to put him back on the battlefield.
“I am prejudiced in this,” Kix admitted freely, finally finishing. The sky had turned dark by now and he desperately needed to drink something. “I want my General at my back. However, there is also the matter that he survived all of this. I do not actually believe that we can stop him from going out on his own should we attempt to keep him away from the fighting. He might even decide to face Sidious head-on, and we can’t allow that to happen.”
The Jedi looked troubled by his assessment and so Kix was not too surprised when they sent him and the other three out of the room to make their decision. Kix had done all he could at this point to protect his General.
He had done his job and fulfilled his duty.
Now he could only hope that it had been enough.
Notes:
Kix and that time he nearly saw a room full of Jedi cry.
Chapter 6: A Skill: Talking
Notes:
Sweet so, I've finally figured out how to structure this story.
Check out the chapter titles!
Edit: fixed 2 sentences that got lost when editing
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“We will attack at dawn.”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“The enemy forces will not expect our arrival for another day. Our strength outnumbers them by far.”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“Commander Tano will take command of the Red Squadron. You will not interfere in the fight. Fly below the base’s sensors. Captain Rex will guide a small force from the east.”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“I will start my assault from the base’s entrance. On my signal, you will drop the bombs.”
Pause. Breath. Beat. Pause. Breath. Beat. Pause. Breath-
The longer Ahsoka listened, the more did she wish they weren’t stuck in some strategy with the Council on the line, just so that she could shake Anakin out of whatever mannerism had him speak so incredibly slow and stilted. He carefully pronounced every word, and every couple breaths he stopped talking all together before resuming with his speech. Where usually sat Outer Rim drawls, he now pronounced everything with High Coruscanti Basic. Not the accent they copied to make fun of Obi-Wan, the one undercut with the almost musical rhythm of Dai Bendu, but the same accent the none-clone officers and Admiral Yularen used, brass military.
It sounded foreign coming from Anakin. He was good at copying accents, had quite a talent for mimicking voices, but it was never like this. She had heard him speak in such a way before, the first days after he’d been released from medical all his words had come out in-between longer breaks, as if his throat had been scrubbed raw, leaving him struggling for breath. Anakin spoke so strangely since his awakening. Sometimes it sounded almost like it used to, but then there were days like these where a whole different persona seemed to consume him.
“And who will be your backup?” Admiral Yularen asked, concern and suspicion wrapped around him like a tight blanket.
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“Do not presume I have need of such.”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
Anakin had never talked like that. Oh, he was cocky sometimes, thinking he was strong enough on his own, had the might of a hundred Jedi instead of just one. Sometimes Ahsoka had been able to believe him too. When he swept through the battlefield, determined to reach her and provide back up, he had reminded her of an angel, the Force itself manifesting to save her. Anakin had pulled off enough impossible stunts that Ahsoka could forgive the arrogance that could sneak into Anakin’s heart at times.
This wasn’t arrogance.
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“General-“ Yularen tried again, but Anakin just talked over him, continuing with the same nondescript, neutral, flat intonation, devoid of all emotions.
“Ready the battle stations, Admiral. Failure is not a weakness we can indulge in.”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
Again and again and again- Ahsoka just wanted to hear her Master sing again.
“Are you sure this is a wise course of action, General Skywalker?” Master Windu spoke up from his blue-flickering image. Worry was written all over his face, an unusual expression for him.
Every Jedi attempted to avoid showing too much of their feelings on the field. It didn’t help anyone to have an overly emotional Jedi in the middle of a battle, not when they were supposed to be the leaders of the Republic army and had their men’s unconditional faith.
The Council members especially, as the guidance they all turned to, tried their utmost to be role models and sources of strength for all the Jedi in the Order, the soldiers under their command and all the many desperate civilians. Ahsoka had seen more of the Council than most other Padawan due to her position as Anakin’s student. As they were of Obi-Wan’s lineage and frequently partnered with him, they happened to be briefed by the full council more often than others.
It was unsettling to see even them so shaken by Anakin’s plan.
And yet they weren’t saying anything against it.
“We will succeed,” Anakin declared.
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“I will ensure it.”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“Do not question my determination, General Windu.”
Another moment passed and Ahsoka almost hoped that the Council or Admiral Yularen or Captain Rex, anybody, would speak up against Anakin’s crazy plan, but they all appeared to be willing to go through with it. They were displeased, uncomfortable even, but they didn’t tell him off. Anakin’s plans could all be stupidly insane, but usually he was never so direct about it unless they really were between a rock and a hard place, no other option left.
But storming a Separatist on base on his own was more than just unnecessarily reckless. It ought to be impossible and yet he appeared to think of it as a banal task.
And with that, their meeting was over.
Everybody hurried to get to their stations, the Admiral began barking orders and Anakin swiftly walked out of the room, his robes dramatically flaring behind him. If Ahsoka didn’t know any better, she’d say that he was fleeing from the meeting room. She doubted anybody else would notice but the slight fall of Anakin’s shoulders told her enough.
She turned to look at the people busying themselves with their new roles and found herself questioning her own. Not once had Anakin spoken of what she was supposed to be doing in the upcoming assault.
Ahsoka decided to confront Anakin about it and so she quickly rushed after Anakin. Once she stepped out on the hallway, however, she was surprised to see that the hallway was empty. She turned her head left and right, but she couldn’t spot Anakin anywhere. Confused, she wondered where he could have disappeared to in such a short time. Her Master was quick on his feet, but not this quick.
If she went left, she’d get to the barracks and Anakin likely hadn’t gone that way but right – towards the hangers. Ahsoka let her awareness sink into the Force to pick up even just a hint of her Master. It would be easy enough if he weren’t shielding like mad. Anakin’s control used to be a little wonky in that regard. He never would have made it as a Shadow, but that had been months ago. Nowadays, if he wanted to, he could disappear completely.
So perhaps, she thought when she felt just a flicker of the spark that was Anakin Skywalker, her Master didn’t want to entirely disappear this time around. Ahsoka followed the feeling, the small tendril of her Master’s presence. She closed her eyes and let the Force guide her steps until she came to a halt in front of a storage room of all things.
Ahsoka titled her head. What the hell would her Maser be doing in a storage room?
Stunned, she stood in front of the door, unsure of how to proceed.
Should she ask for permission to enter? It felt a little ridiculous and yet she raised her hand to knock against the metal door.
“Master?” Ahsoka asked, hoping desperately that no clone would walk past her to see her talking to a door. It wasn’t like they hadn’t already seen Ahsoka at her worst, but this situation still was so strange. “Are you in there?”
Silence followed her statement.
Ahsoka didn’t want to think of it in the context of Pause. Breath. Beat, but to her loathing, she found that it was the exact rhythm that could fill the void of silence.
“Padawan?” Anakin’s voice quietly rang from behind the door.
She took it as an invitation to step inside the room.
She found her Master in the center of the barely illuminated storage room, sitting amongst ration bars that nobody really wanted to eat but everybody had to. Anakin didn’t look like he was busy with anything.
“Do you require my aid?”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“Uh, yeah,” Ahsoka said lamely, unsure as to how she should respond. “I was wondering about my role in the next battle?”
“You will not partake in the next battle.”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“It is far too risky and your skills are not yet on a level capable of enduring this kind of assault.”
Ahsoka thought she wasn’t hearing her Master correctly. She had gone through so many gruesome and dangerous missions already, battles that made people twice her age and size throw up. She had held people as they died, felt the vibrations of a bomb exploding just meters away from her. She had dug graves when they had had the time for it and lowered bodies into the ground, started funeral pyres.
She wasn’t helpless anymore and if not for Anakin’s absolutely stupidly reckless plan, she could be right there with him at the front like so many times before and fight with him. It wasn’t fair. Just because he thought that he had to keep everyone safe and hold them back, he wasn’t letting her help him. Wasn’t Ahsoka his Padawan, meant to fight at his side and learn from him?
“That’s wrong,” Ahsoka retorted. “You know that. I can lead a ground squad, help with the assault from the back!”
Anakin crossed his arms behind his back and stood as straight as he had during the briefing. It was his military posture again. Ahsoka wanted to dig her claws into his shoulders and force him to relax.
“You have your orders, Padawan,” Anakin said. “You would do well to follow them.”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
Padawan.
Pause. Breath. Beat.
Her name was Ahsoka.
“Or what!?” Ahsoka snarled, threw it into his face. She was sick of just following orders and she was sick of hearing Anakin speak like that.
But Anakin didn’t even blink.
“I have given you your mission briefing and you will not disobey me in this.”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“Now go to your room and use the remaining time to rest and reacquaintance yourself with your surroundings. I expect this mission to go swiftly but you must be prepared for the eventuality that the troops will not be able to hold the lines. In that case, you are needed-“
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“Stop talking to me like this!” Ahsoka shouted.
Silence fell upon them both. Anakin looked at her with wide blue eyes as if he were seeing her for the first time and it took Ahsoka a moment to realize what kind of outburst she had. But once she realized it, she couldn’t hold it back anymore.
“Stop talking so weirdly! I’m not a soldier and I do not take your orders.”
“But you are my student and you will do as I say,” Anakin said with more intensity this time but Ahsoka wouldn’t let him. She wasn’t going to back down. She had had enough of it.
“Yes, I am your student. And that’s it. I’m your Padawan, Skyguy, and you’re talking to me like I’m a cadet from the military academy. You’re acting just like all the brass too!”
Ahsoka’s shoulder dropped. “You don’t- you don’t need to talk to me like this. I can listen just fine when you actually tell me what we’re supposed to be doing and why. Stop avoiding me.”
Pause. Breath. Beat. Pause. Breath. Beat. Pause. Breath-
“I’m sorry.”
Anakin’s voice was small, hoarse, but it sounded like Anakin again. “I didn’t mean to get so caught up in my head, Snips. I apologize.”
This was the voice she was used to, the softer tones, the many half-swallowed vowels, the sharper consonants, all tied together into a cadence that reminded her of the comfort of her Master.
“Why do you keep doing it then?” Ahsoka asked. She wrapped her arms around herself, unsure what to do with them. “You speak like a droid.”
Anakin’s hands clenched to fists at his side, then he relaxed them again and let out a soft sigh. “I know, I’m working on it. It’s difficult to remember to speak like this.”
Ahsoka was fairly sure he actually meant that it was difficult for him to speak at all. The first few days after his coma had been horrible. He hadn’t said a single word, then only weirdly stilted, pronouncing all the words strangely, stressing the sentences at the wrong moments. She hadn’t known what had caused it then, still didn’t know what caused the endless pauses.
“I hate it,” she admitted quietly. “It doesn’t sound like you.”
“No,” Anakin agreed. “It wasn’t supposed to.”
Exhaustion washed over him. He looked tired most of the time now. Ahsoka didn’t know if he still refused to sleep and just meditated during most of his nightshift. Whenever she had come to him, he had certainly been awake.
“Speaking to you helps,” Anakin elaborated further. “Reminds me who I’m with.”
He grinned at her but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was better than nothing still.
“I’m always here to help,” Ahsoka said. “And so is Master Kenobi. Who will be very mad when y he learns what kind of plan you came up with this time.”
Anakin actually winced a little at this, but then shook his head.
“Obi-Wan will have to be a little mad at me then,” Anakin decided. “This mission is important. We need to take this planet and we need to wipe out any and all Separatist strongholds or it’ll come back to haunt us at a later date. Trust me on this, Snips.”
“I do.” There was nobody in the galaxy she trusted more. How could she? Anakin was responsible for her when around them the galaxy burned down. They were partners, they had each other’s backs. Which was precisely the reason she didn’t like him fighting out there on his own.
“I still don’t want you to go through with this,” she told him, admitting defeat against everything within her that screamed in pain.
“It has to be done, Ahsoka. I promise that I will return.”
“You don’t know that,” she argued on last time for her own conscious. “We’ve never done anything like this.”
Anakin smiled mirthlessly. “It’ll be fine. I’ve done it before.”
Pause. Breath. Beat.
“Let’s go.”
Somehow Ahsoka got the impression that this was nothing to celebrate or to repeat.
Notes:
Thanks for reading!
I hope you enjoyed it!
Chapter 7: A Connection: Padmé
Notes:
Maybe updating twice within a week and then disappearing for a month really is my MO.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Padmé had known from the first moment on that a secret relationship wouldn’t be easy to manage, no matter how used she was to keeping quiet and handling too many duties at once.
All Anakin and she had were stolen moments in the shadows, here and there a few hours in her apartment, and maybe, if she got a little reckless again and had a stroke of luck, a shared mission.
Padmé missed her husband, she did, but they had chosen this fate themselves and now they had to carry its burden. Maybe once the war was over, something would change. They hadn’t talked about it yet, not really, there had never been the time for it. Not to mention, who wanted to think of the hassle that was people’s expectations of them when they could instead make the best they were given at the present. She dared to imagine soft afternoons on Naboo at times, when she was still in bed, sleep chasing her, but that was about it.
Maybe Anakin would leave the Order for her, maybe Padmé would… She didn’t even know what she could do. She just knew that it couldn’t go on like this, not until the end of time. She wanted to show Anakin off to her family, tell them what an amazing husband she had and she wanted to go dancing with him, have a meal at a fancy restaurant, and return to Naboo with him for at least the High Holy Days to watch the fireworks and put candles on the lakes.
But not right now, nothing was possible right now. They were at war and Padmé shouldn’t indulge in such flimsy dreams. Unfortunately, when she was close to Anakin, it was so easy to get lost in dreams.
Anakin wasn’t here right now, but weeks away, somewhere in the Outer Rim, fighting yet another endless battle whose victory never seemed to matter too much in the long run.
The more war reports she read and the more she fought in the Senate, the more convinced did Padmé become that they were sending the Jedi out to fight for nothing. The thought of losing Anakin to this senseless war made her stomach turn. Padmé worried about him constantly. She knew he was strong, the Republic hadn’t dubbed him its Hero with no Fear for nothing after all, but she knew better.
Anakin was afraid all the time, sometimes so much that it stopped him from speaking, left him haunted by nightmares he couldn’t shake.
When she asked about it, he quickly switched the topic. Padmé knew that she ought to do better and get Anakin to talk to her, but she was only human and a relationship always required two people doing their best.
And it required that they actually had time to talk.
Padmé glanced at her datapad. Its screen was still dark, taunting her. It had been a month since Anakin’s last message. They tried to message each other as often as possible, exchanging I love yous coded into descriptions of flowers and ship parts. They had to be careful, could never say a word too much that could be used against them at a later date. Nobody was to discover their secrets and so Padmé spun lies upon lies to keep everybody unaware.
She wondered what lies Anakin told Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and every other member of his Order. When the war had just started, Padmé hadn’t been too kind to the Jedi, thinking of their rules as strict and their prohibitions as arbitrary, but more and more she was coming to understand that there was a reason for it all.
You could not be a devout Jedi and pour everything into serving the Republic and then still give everything you have for a family outside of the Order. While it had taken her a while to realize it, Padmé could empathize with the sentiment. It was very much the same with her and her family. Each time they asked her to come home, Padmé still picked the Senate over them. She had a duty to the galaxy and if the price for it was this isolation from them, then she could bear it. She had her allies and friends here on Coruscant, her sisters in all but blood, and she had Anakin.
When he was there.
And actually replied to her message.
She hadn’t heard any great news about him or the 501st at large. As far as she was aware, they were still operating as always, running their missions and following orders. Anakin couldn’t be dead, the Republic would be in an uproar.
The thought was a bittersweet relief at least. She couldn’t even count the times she had thought Anakin dead on two hands anymore. He was always in so much danger – she constantly feared that today would be the day he wouldn’t return to her anymore.
If he died tomorrow, what were the last words they exchanged? The last kiss they had shared? Padmé didn’t want to think of herself as fair Veré, who thought of herself as the widow of Set who had gone to live amongst the stars long before her dear husband actually had.
She shook her head. She shouldn’t think so negatively. She had thousands of other things to worry about. New bills, the assassin that was after her and had somehow managed to poison her favorite dessert – she couldn’t spare more than one moment’s thought on the state of her husband.
She was never just Anakin Skywalker’s wife.
She didn’t want to be.
Padmé had always been a greedy child, though her parents had liked to call her ambitious instead. Padmé had wanted to do good and she had wanted to do it herself. She was unsure whether it was that she didn’t trust others enough for it or if a lothcat just couldn’t change its spots, but even when she let herself be distracted by sweet kisses, half her mind was somewhere else.
One of these days it was going to be too much.
Padmé stood up from her sofa, throwing another glance at her traitorous datapad before sighing, then she walked into the kitchen, searching for something edible after a long day. There she went to open her fridge, trying to find something good and fresh to eat, only to be severely disappointed. Her fridge was a sad and desolate space, stocked with only one take-out container and two fruits that were already starting to look moldy. Padmé vaguely recalled how well-stocked her fridge had been with delicacies from Naboo when she had started her term as a Senator. Imports from her homeworld had become extremely expensive.
Padmé was almost a little ashamed to admit she wouldn’t mind accepting one of Palpatine’s dinner proposals only to get her hands on one of the parfaits she used to stuff her mouth with as a kid.
Once Anakin was back, she’d get him to cook something for her. She hadn’t expected him to be good at it, but he was a surprisingly great cook. On the few days they had had on Naboo together after Geonosis, he had pretty much taken over the kitchen within minutes of seeing her attempt at cutting an onion. He had still required her presence and aid at times, unused to his new prosthetic, but even then he had given her instructions on how to properly cut vegetables and fruits. Padmé had never been someone for cooking, it was a trouble and she had never had the time to learn. Perhaps she should start to, people did say that stress baking helped, though she wouldn’t know where to fit a cooking class into her busy schedule.
In the end, Padmé grabbed the take-out box from Dex’s – her new favorite place to order food at – and warmed it up. After it was done, she considered putting the contents of the box on a plate to make it look like she had put at least some effort into the meal. Demotivated she looked at the white container. If she grabbed a plate, she’d just have to clean that as well and there was no point to it if it was really just her. Padmé fished a fork out of her drawer and walked back to her living room. She didn’t even bother sitting down at her dinner table and instead got comfortable on her couch. What a mighty picture she made, former Queen of Naboo, slouching on her sofa, eating takeout in her PJs like an overworked university student.
Not that Padmé really knew what university life was like. Her handmaidens and she had been educated by private tutors who had given them an extensive overview in whatever subjects they needed or desired. As Padmé dug into her food, she considered whether the time she had needed to read up on archeology digs on Archeron Prime 2 in five minutes because nobody else had wanted to deal with ancient sites conversation and so had dumped it on her, had been similar enough to the common student experience.
Padmé was contemplating turning on a holomovie when finally, after weeks, her datapad chimed with a light ringtone, one she had assigned only to one person.
As quickly as possible, she shoved her food off her legs and reached for datapad. She hadn’t even swallowed her food completely when she hit the accept for the incoming call. Finally, Anakin had had the time to call her. She had so much she wanted to tell him-
“Senator Amidala?”
Padmé stared at the small blue hologram that very much did not depict her husband, but instead his young and small Padawan, looking as exhausted as Padmé felt.
Suddenly, Padmé became all too aware of her looks.
She took pride in her dresses, it was part of Naboo custom and one’s appearance in the public sphere was immensely important. She didn’t exactly look like a dedicated politician right now.
“Padawan Tano,” Padmé greeted Ahsoka, hoping her formal tone could save the situation at least a little. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to answer.”
Inwardly, Padmé cringed. Great, of course, she had to imply that she had thought she could answer Anakin’s call dressed like this. The day was just getting better and better. She couldn’t wait for it to be over.
If Ahsoka had anything to say about the way Padmé dressed, she didn’t let it show.
“I know, I’m sorry for calling you at this hour from my Master’s device, I wanted to talk to you and I didn’t have your number,” the youngling sounded like she was honestly sorry about it.
Padmé’s face softened. “There’s nothing to forgive, Ahsoka. Tell me, why are you calling me? You know I will never mind a call from you.”
“I- thank you. I’m calling about my Master.”
Ahsoka bit her lip and Padmé’s heartbeat sped up.
Oh no. Had Anakin said something? Had Ahsoka discovered their relationship? A thousand thoughts ran through her mind. This was the precise reason they were keeping it a secret still. Padmé couldn’t afford a scandal, Anakin needed to fight and they couldn’t put their friends between their duties and keeping their secret.
Well, Padmé should have known even their luck had to run out sometime.
“Ahsoka, look-“
“Did my master say anything to you before our battle on Temetha last month?” Asoka suddenly blurted out. “Anything strange? Weird? Bad?”
Their battle on-
Yes, Padmé remembered it. She had kept a keen eye on that one. It had been bound to be a difficult one according to the reports and it had also been the last major battle that Anakin had actively fought in as far as the news had been concerned. Ever since he had been on radio silence between her and Anakin. Nothing new of course, but she had still felt like something was going on behind the scenes.
“No,” Padmé said. “Nothing. Anakin and I had just talked about…”
Padmé grimaced. She was almost embarrassed to say that they had chatted about cheap romance novels and even worse holomovies. It had been such a dumb and random topic, childish almost, but it had occurred to her that she had no idea what kind of stories Anakin liked and enjoyed in his free time. They had decided to do a movie marathon the next time he was back on Coruscant, despite the fact that he desperately needed the time to recover and sleep, not spend hours awake with her.
“We talked about nothing really, just hobbies,” Padmé said. “Why? Did something happen?”
Ahsoka’s expression darkened.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she started slowly.
Padmé contemplated stopping Ahsoka right then and there. The poor teenager was going through enough, Padmé shouldn’t use her distress to her own gain, but where else was she going to get information about Anakin?
“Did something happen to Anakin?”
Ahsoka hesitated, her eyes darted to somewhere in her room that Padmé couldn’t see.
“He was injured in the aftermath of the battle,” Ahsoka revealed. “And I don’t know how. The machines say he’s fine.”
The machines. What machines? Had it been vital? Was he comatose? Was that the reason she hadn’t heard a word from him, was the army keeping it under wraps as to not cause distress? What other secrets were they hiding-
Padmé’s growing panic must have shown on her face as Ahsoka reassured her quickly.
“He’s fine now! Or as fine as he can be at least. He won’t talk to me about anything anymore. Obi-Wan’s training me right now too because Anakin can’t.”
Padmé’s thoughts traveled to those days on Naboo in the aftermath of Geonosis. Anakin’s hadn’t been given the time he needed to recover properly and get used to his new prosthetic before he’d been sent out to fight in the front and yet, somehow, he was one of their strongest fighters. Had he lost another limb? How many weeks would they give him off this time if it had already been a month?
“I just thought you might know something,” Ahsoka finally finished. “Master Skywalker speaks very highly of you, you’re friends?”
“Very close friends, yes,” Pamdé told Ahsoka. “We met when we were just children. Anakin helped my planet considerably at the time.”
“Really?” Ahsoka asked, light returning to her eyes.
Perhaps Padmé would have to call Obi-Wan later, or see if she could get someone to tell her what was truly going on with the 501st.
Until then she had a Padawan to calm down.
“I can’t believe Anakin never shared this story with you. Let me tell you all about it,” Padmé said. “I was 14 and had been elected the Queen of Naboo…”
Padmé ended up talking for hours or so it felt like, much longer than she did with Anakin as he hardly had the time for it. When Padmé was done talking about her and Anakin’s first meeting and the consequent fight with the Trade Federation, she began regaling Ahsoka with more stories about her term as a queen. By the time the Padawan had to go again, Ahsoka was still bothered by her worry for her master, but at least she was smiling again.
Padmé ended the call and took a deep breath. She looked at her now cold dinner and the dark night sky.
Then she stood up and got to work.
Notes:
Writing Padmé's POV was difficult because it's a constant balancing act between her competence, her sheer dumbassery and teenage level dramatic romance with Anakin.
Thanks for reading!
Oh! And if you haven't read it yet, you have to check out AlabasterInk's story Gone With the Rest of Me! It describes how arriving in the past was for Anakin and it's written so perfectly - honestly, it's a great intro.
Chapter 8: A Place: Room of a Thousand Fountains
Chapter Text
Anakin Skywalker had always been an energetic and vibrant child. He drew your attention whenever he was in the room, even when he was holding himself back. It was one of the reasons Plo had agreed so readily to send little Ahsoka Tano to him. His opinion didn’t count for much, but he was still her Finder and had spent quite a lot of time with her since she had been brought to the temple. She had the same kind of spirit as her Master, and with Ahsoka around, Anakin wouldn’t be able to let his own fire burn as much, burn out, or risk hurting her.
Plo was sure that Anakin would keep her safe, be a light that would guide her.
Even now, Anakin was almost painfully bright in the Force, but he was also hurting to a degree Plo had encountered not once before. Shadows and doubts were clinging to him, stifling him. Only ashes remained of the bonfire and, beneath that thick dead remnant, new saplings grew only slowly.
The pain they had felt in the temple after Skywalker’s arrival was had been intolerable even in its contained form. It should be no surprise that Anakin was still in such a bad condition, yet Plo was taken aback when he came face to face with him.
“Anakin,” he greeted the young man. Plo was the first Council member to arrive at their chosen meeting place, had he caught Ahsoka just the day before and listened to her worries. He had hurried to catch the young Knight on his own, gain insight into how he acted when he wasn’t questioned by the whole Council.
“Master Plo,” Anakin said and inclined his head towards him.
He moved to stand up, but Plo raised his hands to stop him. The action obviously caused him further pain and Plo was not going to add another weight to the many burdens the boy was already carrying.
“I will join you on the ground, Anakin,” Plo said and sat down right next to Anakin.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had simply taken a few moments to rest in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He knew it certainly hadn’t been since the war had broken out. Plo decided to follow Anakin’s example and took off his shoes. Feeling the grass beneath his feet was soothing; did it remind him of more peaceful times. In the distance, he could hear some younglings playing, and the water of one of the many rivers and waterfalls in these halls rush downwards.
This was certainly a calmer and a kinder place to meet than the Council chambers. Plo could understand why Anakin had asked to assemble here instead of the Council room.
Not that Anakin had asked.
Obi-Wan had directed the Council to this place, the very heart of their temple and the place the furthest away from the busy world outside.
If the report Anakin was to deliver was really as earth-shattering as Obi-Wan words had alluded to, it was probably for the best.
He still wasn’t ready to believe the bits of information Obi-Wan had let slip. Perhaps Plo was clinging to the fickle hope that Anakin’s revelations would clear them up, reveal that they hadn’t allowed a Sith Lord to gain control of the entire Republic.
Plo knew that Obi-Wan had no reason to lie, but hope always died last.
Glancing towards his left, Plo found Obi-Wan was standing in some distance, typing away on his datapad. Plo wasn’t fooled for even a second. He had raised more than one Padawan and he knew that Obi-Wan’s attention was entirely on his student.
It was as adorable as it was reassuring, even if the price for their closeness was high. Over a decade ago, the Council hadn’t been quite sure what they thought Obi-Wan and Anakin would become. When they had let the young Knight take on the boy, it had been accompanied by many worries over their mental health, but the two of them had surprised everyone positively. They had grown up to bring out the best in each other, so much that Kenobi-and-Skywalker was a set expression in everyone’s mouth.
Even now, when both were hurting so obviously, they were holding onto one another.
“Ahsoka has learned well from you,” Plo said. He thought it would be for the best if he tried to ease Anakin into a conversation. Ahsoka seemed like a safe topic to start with, especially given how devoted she was to her Master. Seldom had Plo seen a Master and Padawan pair become attuned to each other so quickly.
Then again, most of the training bonds weren’t forged during wartime.
“She is strong and capable,” Anakin replied, avoiding Plo’s gaze and keeping his own fixed on something in the distance. “I don’t think I taught her anything she couldn’t have figured out on her own.”
“Little ‘Soka was always a smart one, if a bit of a wild card,” Plo agreed.
It was the reason Plo hadn’t picked her to be his Padawan though he currently didn’t have one. Ahsoka deserved a Master who was more similar to her. With Kenobi keeping oversight of them both, she and Anakin had seemed like a good fit.
“She deserves better.”
Anakin sounded so similar to the Obi-Wan from ten years ago that Plo wished he could let the lost young man from back then meet this one now, show them both how far they could go despite insecurities.
“Every Padawan does. A teacher can never be good enough. This is why we have to try.”
“But I wasn’t good enough,” Anakin stated matter-of-factly. “She-“He shut up immediately, mouth pressed in a thin line, as if only now noticing what secrets were escaping him. The Force around them shifted, cradling Anakin like a child and making it seem like he wasn’t quite there, but more a blurry image.
Plo debated pushing, learning what he wanted to keep quiet about, what had happened to little ‘Soka in that vision of his. He couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine anything happening to the sweet girl who had clung to his robes with wide eyes and excitedly babbled to him in the language of her people.
“Ahsoka is very worried about you,” Plo decided to say instead, take their conversation in a different direction. “Apparently, she is quite vexed that you won’t spar with her anymore.”
If Skywalker had tried to fade into the background before, now he was positively trying to disappear in it entirely. What happened that had made him fear every possible topic Plo could bring up? The silence between them was almost oppressive, heavy on their shoulders. Plo decided to stay silent, give Anakin time to come out of his shell again. He didn’t know who much time passed until the heavy feeling lifted and he began to speak.
“I- I forgot how beautiful it is in here.” Anakin curled his toes and spread his fingers so that the grass could get in between them. “I didn’t visit this place in years. I don’t know if it was still standing.”
“That is quite a shame,” Plo commented. “We could take another look around if you feel capable of walking.”
Anakin looked up from the ground, eyeing Plo with confusion and suspicion.
“The others won’t be here for a while,” Plo elaborated. “It would be unwise to let the time go to waste, wouldn’t it? I was told that one of the youngling clans remodeled one of the gardens. I think we have the time to look at it and pass our congratulations on to them.”
Anakin looked torn between desire and fear. Like a child, he looked back to Obi-Wan, who, indeed as Plo had predicted, had been paying close attention to the conversation and was now staring at them. When Obi-Wan nodded, Anakin hesitantly bit his lip. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I wouldn’t offer it otherwise, Anakin.” Plo rose to his feet and held out his hand.
Tellingly, Anakin took it with his flesh hand. He held onto it perhaps for a moment longer than necessary, but then he let go and buried his hands in the sleeves of his robe, hiding them and their trembling away.
“I believe the youngling garden is a level up. Is there any place you’d like to see on your way there?”
Anakin didn’t reply at first, then he turned to look towards the right. Plo had never been the most knowledgeable about the room, preferring to spend his time with mathematics and not plants, but Anakin knew exactly what laid there.
“The yellow gardens,” he finally replied. “I’d like to see the yellow gardens.”
Plo nodded and then, with Anakin by his side, still barefoot leaving their shoes behind, they walked into the direction of the garden. Plo kept his eyes closely on Anakin the entire time, observing his reaction to the Jedi passing them; they had agreed for a meeting here for a reason after all. There weren’t many people passing them, but they crossed paths with another once in a while, though they never noticed Anakin. Perhaps his idea of wrapping himself up in the Force indeed had merit. Plo wondered whether he had learned that during the war, folding himself so much into his surroundings that he was overlooked unless he wanted to be seen. It was definitely a clever trick.
When they reached the yellow gardens, Anakin ore or less walked past all the bushes and trees without paying them any mind, straight up until he reached the very end where yellow flowers grew in small bushes.
Anakin crouched down in front of them and so very carefully traced over the petals with his fingers.
“Are they your favorite?” Plo asked.
Anakin shook his head. “No, my favorite was- there is a flower I inherited from Qui-Gon. It should bloom in a few months. These flowers are from Naboo. I hate- dislike them.”
Anakin fell silent again, still not looking away from the delicate flowers.
“What do they mean?”
“Grief,” Anakin replied, “for a life lost too early.”
The way Anakin spoke about it, Plo could feel the Force around them start to weep. It wasn’t just grief for a life lost, but Anakin’s grief. It was thick and palpable, so thick in the air, you could almost choke on it. With Anakin’s back turned to him, Plo gently raised a hand to his throat, wondering if there was a malfunction in his mask. Calming himself, he gently reached out himself, running warm fingers over old wounds torn open again.
“I will fix it,” Anakin spoke up suddenly. “I promise you that. I won’t let it happen again. You will all be safe.”
You will all be alive.
Anakin didn’t have to say it, but Plo heard it anyway.
It was, at that moment, all the confirmation that he needed. The broken bits of Obi-Wan’s statement had all been true after all and the future, even if it was one just envisioned, had been darker than all periods of the past.
“We shall do the same,” Plo promised as Anakin stood up again.
As they walked back to the meeting point, Plo quietly tried to think of who was currently on Senate duty, and how quickly he could let them know that the Chancellor was to be considered a threat.
And how much longer they could refuse Palpatine’s inquiries to talking to Anakin.
Notes:
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :D
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