Chapter Text
Weiss didn’t think of the stars very often, not before now.
Out here, though, a long trek across the land only having just begun, and with a night spent underneath them, she couldn’t help but begin to wonder.
“Do you ever think about what's out there?” Weiss mumbled to herself more than anyone else one night. Over the din of the crackling campfire, and the slow but rhythmic work of Anakin’s modifications on her arm. With Ruby sitting not too far away herself, eyes closed in meditation as her parts of… something, flow around her. A small, vibrant crystal glowing amongst it all.
Not so much, the words brushed past her mind, more emotion than coherent thought. Not anymore.
It had spooked her the first time, after she’d packed her things and said goodbye to Klein, when Ruby had reached out and touched her in a way that went far past the barrier of physicality. It was close, intimate, a two-way bond that she had no way of touching herself, but could nonetheless understand, given enough time.
Ruby was never far, even when she wasn’t in sight, her presence constantly flitting about, but never truly absent. Even when she fought, the weight of her abilities crashing down on anything and everything in range with tight precision, her presence was never far from Weiss.
She caught Anakin staring, sometimes, as if she could see the invisible waves moving between them. As if she didn’t, she wasn’t so bright that it made it hard to sleep at night, as if she wasn’t so strong that it felt like gravity, as if she didn’t have too many teeth–
Weiss shook her head, forcing herself back to the present and away from her thoughts on Ruby’s mentor. The woman was good, even if dregs of something less so had leaked out back in her home; her intentions were good. And Weiss had come a long way from the person who blamed others for things out of their own control.
She doesn’t think about them all too much anymore, and she couldn’t help but wonder as to why that was. She had in the past, but didn’t now? Was it a simple, fleeting fancy? Had she simply grown past the whimsy of it all? Or was there greater symbolism there? Did she know something now that she couldn’t have known before? Thinking of it like that was akin to starting a flame, because in Weiss’s mind, there could be no other answer.
Ruby always had a fire to her, not like Yang’s, which was loud and roaring amidst the wind, or Blake’s, which burned slowly, bordering on something crueler. No, Ruby’s had always been something different, a fledgling of what it could truly end up becoming. Now, however, it was something like lightning. Static and sharp, loud when it needed to be, warning at other times, silent, invisible when it did not need to be.
Something had changed in Ruby; she just wasn’t quite sure what.
She almost feels on the outs, if that makes sense. Like, there’s a gap between what she can understand and what she’s willing to know. It’s not as if she couldn’t simply ask; there had been subtle hints from both of them that she should ask, really. But she always stops herself, always because of a single thought. A deep, intrinsic feeling that the more she knows, the less she can stay the same.
“The stars are nice,” Anakin says, and it takes Weiss a moment to realize that it had only been a few moments since she had spoken aloud. “But there’s a lot more to it than fantasy.”
Despite herself and the headache that usually comes from speaking directly to the woman for too long, Weiss turns to her, “Meaning?”
“Wars, death, slavery, corruption on the highest scale,” With a click of her tongue, Anakin responded. “People trade lives for power on a scale so large that you couldn’t even imagine it. Entire systems at play in a roundabout chess game that almost led everything to ruin.”
Weiss’s head spins a bit, her mind struggling to digest the words. So, her mouth speaks before her brain can comprehend, “Almost?”
Anakin pauses, for just a moment, raising her eyes from her arm to meet with Weiss’. This is a moment that rings important for both of them. Weiss understands immediately, like student and teacher, the grave lessons learned from life passed down through the generations.
“People like me–like us, Ruby and I, we are what’s known as Force Users. Users of the Light against the Dark. Some, but not all, users of the Force are part of a group known as the Jedi. They work in service of the Republic, to do good and to reach other systems that need their help, as peacekeepers, diplomats, and healers.”
“But they didn’t,” A statement, not a question. Weiss knows it without even needing to ask, so familiar with the system and all its flaws.
Nodding, Anakin continues, “They grew too disillusioned with their hubris, too entrenched in politics. So obsessed with gaining permission that they nearly lost the war before it had even begun. Confusing serving the Republic and its people with serving the Senate. Serving its agenda, its politics. They never even stopped to question where the line was, just stepping over it completely.”
“War broke out, and while the Jedi could not afford to remain as they were, neither did they think before they were handed command. Knights became Generals, Learned became Soldiers, and Masters formed war councils. Sending hundreds to die because the Senate bid it so. All while the strings were pulled in the shadows, right in the depths of our home, the one place we thought we were safe.”
“But Ruby…” Weiss shook her head. “Ruby wasn’t a part of this, was she?”
Anakin snorted, “No, this was years ago. She would have been young, much too young.” Anakin’s eyes dimmed, small swirls of gold creeping in. “But I was. I was a centerpiece, a bargaining tool for both sides.”
And Weiss? She didn’t even have to question it. Not when this woman walked around like a god descended upon humanity, not when it felt like standing next to a sun at any given time. So, when she told Weiss, she had no choice but to believe it.
“Neither needed me to win,” Anakin chuckled this time, though it sounded hollow. “Well, maybe the Jedi did, but the man behind it all? No, he was already going to win; earning my allegiance was just for show. It was a power play, something he could brag about to show the Jedi that he had won. He loved that sort of thing, even when all we knew him as was a kind old man. Decisiveness was a particular favourite of his.”
There’s another pause, and then a sigh, “I almost joined him, right when everything was about to break, right at the tipping point. Me showing up the way I did that night, when I entered the very building he had been sitting at the top of for so many years… well, even just my presence at its consequences. It got a seasoned Master killed, just because he was shocked by my appearance. I felt his life leech away as I got closer to the scene, but, at the time, it didn’t seem to matter to me. When I got there, and I saw the last Master standing in the face of great darkness–I nearly Fell.”
It sends a shiver down Weiss’s spine, the way the woman says it, and for just a moment, a split second in reality, Weiss hears millions of screams before everything suddenly cuts back to silence.
“It was only later that I learned, and even later when I accepted the truth, that I had long since been groomed for that role,” Anakin notes sourly. “But to me, it didn’t matter; it still almost doesn’t. I nearly Fell, and almost took everything with me.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Anakin is silent for a long while, even after Weiss’s question. For a moment, Weiss almost thinks she’ll refuse to answer, but then–
“I had a moment of clarity, a fleeting one, but one nonetheless,” Smiling, Anakin exudes an aura of melancholy. “I had a friend, a father, a brother, who said he could never be prouder of the woman I had become. A student, a sister, who looked up to me. Mentors, my teachers, my troops–my brothers, who would all be cut down if I were to Fall first.”
“I…” Anakin huffed out another laugh. “A wife, whom I was so afraid of losing to visions of a dark future. So much so that I feared I would turn to the Dark. But, ah, it’s a funny thing, you know? Knowing that turning to that would have lost so many more in exchange, and all her love would have burned away with it.”
The fire reflected in her eyes, “I would have been left to die on a desolate rock, more machine than human, something screaming in pain and wishing for death. I couldn’t handle it, so I fell to my knees. Even though the fight was still undecided, I fell. Maybe not in the way that had been intended, but I faltered, and for that we almost lost.”
“But you didn’t.”
Anakin nods, shaking away some of the fog and sitting a little straighter, “Yes, but not without immediate cost.”
“…Why are you telling me this?” Weiss asks, surprised that Ruby had remained in meditation the entire time, not even moving a muscle. “You have no reason to tell me this. I have no right to this.”
And she didn’t, it was true. Weiss had done nothing to earn this, nor had she asked for it to be imparted upon her. Yet, here she sat, listening to a tale that had taken place far beyond the stars.
“Because Ruby holds you close to her heart,” Anakin says bluntly, and Weiss can’t help the heat that rushes to her face. Anakin’s smile is small, but no weaker for it. “And the Jedi have denied attachments in times past, and while that has grown looser since the fall of that man, there’s still some truth to it.”
“You asked about the world beyond the stars, and I told you what waited there,” She said. “Good things can grow in evil places, but that does not make them immune to withering.”
Weiss blinked owlishly, comprehending, yet not. If this was some… allusion to the idea of Ruby possibly taking a similar path, then she simply couldn’t imagine it. She could hardly imagine Ruby losing, let alone turning to anything more sinister than a simple prank on a random day of the week. It just didn’t seem possible, yet there Anakin was, living proof that such a thing could happen.
“That won’t happen,” Weiss said, her eyes steely and her words ice. “I won’t let it.”
Anakin tilted her head back, as if acknowledging her spirit for the first time, “You’d make a horrible Jedi,” She decided, though her smile widened. “My wife would love you, though.”
Weiss rolled her eyes, the tension passing sooner than expected. “I’m sure she’s happy that you went galavanting across the galaxy to join another war.”
“Hmm?” Anakin hummed, understanding dawning a moment later as she waved her hand. “Oh, no, no. I was in a self-imposed exile for years. I only saw her again recently when I took Ruby to finish her training, she… ah, well, she didn’t let me come back alone. Neither did some of my other friends.”
Now it was Weiss’ turn to hum, “And somehow she decided not to leave you.”
At that, Anakin laughed, rubbing the back of her head impishly, “Yeah, I don’t quite understand it either. But, hey, we’re all a little strange for the ones we love, right?”
At her words, Weiss’s eyes travel to Ruby for little more than a moment, though still enough for Anakin to see. “I suppose,” Weiss allows, though it’s hard to keep the shakiness from her hands.
Ruby’s presence consciously brushes against her for the first time since the conversation had begun. Smug, humoured, but also soft, accepting, and kind. It takes all of Weiss’s willpower not to melt into it. Instead, she forces herself to look elsewhere, to speak of something else to occupy her thoughts.
“If she came back here with you, and with your friends, no less, then why aren’t they here with us?”
“Because,” Anakin huffed fondly with a roll of her eyes, “Obi-Wan is off negotiating again, and she’s with them.”
(Somewhere, on a far-off island of great import, a seasoned Jedi Master sneezes before returning to his conversation with a certain princess and a blonde who reminds him far too much of his wayward student.)
Fair enough.
“And you’re okay with that?”
Anakin stared into the fire, though she didn’t seem so lost this time. Not just seeing the flame, but also the warmth that came with it.
“We’ll be reunited eventually, and that’s all that matters to me.”
That, Weiss supposes, as she lets her gaze linger on Ruby far too long, is something she can understand more than anyone else.