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Dantooine was notorious for its thunderstorms.
Not much in the galaxy scared Ahsoka Tano. But that one fact was enough to make her want to run as far away from the planet as possible and never look back.
Thunderstorms are loud, thunderstorms are violent, and thunderstorms are unpredictable. She hated them. And if she was anything, anything but a Jedi—and apprentice to the Chosen One, no less—maybe it would have been fine.
Maybe. Up until a few months ago, she spent almost her whole life in the Jedi Temple. There, the instructors intoned fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering between every other breath. So she wouldn't know.
Sighing, Ahsoka hiked her blanket higher over her head and wondered why sleep never came when she really wanted it.
Anakin glared at the ceiling of their tent, wishing the constant rain would let up. The sound of it beating down on the thin material that made up the tent was irritating him and the thunder kept startling him out of a light sleep. He was used to sleeping in terrible conditions, but this was not terrible, just inconvenient.
Sleep, he told himself. You'll need your strength for tomorrow's fight.
Sleep, however, didn't seem to be happening, and Anakin decided he could go without for the night. He sat up on his sleeping mat and fished around in the dark for his datapad.
There was a flash of lightning that lit up the tent for a split second and Anakin could see the outline of his sleeping apprentice on the other side of the room. He envied her for being able to sleep through even this storm and turned on his datapad.
The datapad powered up with a distinctive de-doop. Ahsoka started, the sound tearing her out of the light sleep she managed to fall into. Rolling over to face her Master, she yanked her blanket off her face and glared.
"Skyguy," she snapped, "just what are you doing?"
Anakin jumped at the sound of her voice ringing through the tent. He looked up to see her staring pointedly at the datapad, an annoyed look on her face. He switched off the sound.
"Sorry, sorry," he said quietly. "Go back to sleep, Snips."
Ahsoka blinked, realizing telling him she'd been up this whole time wasn't an option. It would be too embarrassing.
But it wasn't like she had more options, so she pulled the blanket back up and rolled over, her back to Anakin. "Night."
For a long moment, she breathed deeper and stared at the walls of the tent, hoping she could pass for sleeping. As long as Master Skywalker didn't worry about her or get all overprotective, she'd be fine.
And then an echoing boom shook the tent, followed by a flare that threw everything in sharp white light. Ahsoka let out a sharp yelp, Anakin's concern spiking in the Force as she pulled in on herself.
It'll pass. She took in a loud breath and tried to keep from shaking. Storms always pass.
Anakin put down his datapad. He strained to see his apprentice in the darkness of the tent. Was she having a nightmare? If she was, should he let it pass, or wake her from it?
He rose to his knees and half-crawled forward in the dark space. "Ahsoka," he called softly, "are you alright?"
Another flash lit the tent and he could just make out his Padawan's form, curled into a ball on her mat. He hesitated. What was he supposed to do now?
"I-I'm fine, Master." Ahsoka's voice shook more than she wanted it to. She refused to roll over, or even pull the blanket off. Another thunderclap sounded.
Good going, Tano, a voice in the back of her head chided. He doesn't need to be thinking about you right now. 'Course, it's a little too late for him not to, with all that yelling.
"I wasn't yelling." Almost immediately, she realized she hadn't meant to say that aloud. Great, now Anakin would think she was a little kid. A crazy little kid, at that.
Anakin frowned. He had never said she was. "You… you look upset, Snips. Did you have a nightmare?"
You, he told himself, are the worst Master ever. Any other Jedi in the Order would be better at dealing with this than you.
He had known Ahsoka for only a few months. Although they were a great team on the field and Anakin felt as though she was the sister he'd never had, neither of them were good at being serious, or at having deep conversations. This was a little out of his comfort zone.
What would Obi-Wan have done?
Well, that was easy. Obi-Wan would have gotten him a glass of water, told him to meditate and gone to catch a few hours of sleep himself.
That wasn't helpful at all. So he had nothing to fall back on, no training, no memories, nothing. He would have to improvise.
The blanket was stifling, and the heat only made Ahsoka's head hurt. So she sat up and tossed the blanket away, but didn't look at Anakin.
"It's because I am." Ahsoka shut her eyes to avoid looking at Anakin. There wasn't a hint of snippiness in her voice. "And no, I didn't have a nightmare."
Anakin pulled himself closer to her sleeping mat and sat down, crossing his legs. "What's wrong, then? You can tell me, Ahsoka." He thought back to the Jedi Temple, where they were encouraged to meditate nightmares and other fears away. To push down their negative emotions. That had never worked for him. Maybe it was time to try out a new way of teaching. "I won't think it's irrational, whatever it is you're afraid of."
Because she was scared of something. He could feel it through their still-forming Master-Apprentice bond. And to Anakin, who had never seen Ahsoka scared of anything, this was something new.
Ahsoka raised her hand, lowered it, and raised it again to point at the tent flap. The heavens continued to rage outside.
"The storm," she said, thankful for how dark the tent was. After a moment, she let out a snort. "I know you said you wouldn't think it was stupid… but it's okay. You can laugh."
Anakin let out a short breath. She thought he would laugh? At her fear? Of course he wouldn't. Memories from his childhood surfaced, kids laughing at him for being a slave, something he wasn't able to help. He didn't quite understand her fear of the storm, but he certainly wouldn't laugh at it.
"Snips, I—" he cut himself off, shaking his head. "It's not stupid. It's not funny either." He cast a glance upwards, suddenly wishing that the storm would die down so that his Padawan could sleep in peace. "How long have you been afraid of storms?"
"I don't kn—" Ahsoka stopped. She wasn't going to get past this by fibbing. "Since my first night in the Temple. It rained so hard, and I was already confused and scared. The thunder just made it worse."
She was glad Anakin didn't find it funny, because she definitely didn't. She did find it a little stupid, though. She was a teenager, too old to have fears rooted in the rain.
"Sorry for distracting you." She bit her lip, lying back down. "Go back to… whatever you were doing on your datapad. I'll be fine."
Anakin just stared at her for a moment. She was just going to shut him out again? After telling him all that?
He forced himself not to think of Ahsoka as a child, confused, scared and afraid of the storms. There were times when he really didn't like the Jedi and now was one of those times.
Had it been anyone else, except maybe Padme, he would have done exactly what she suggested. But this was Ahsoka, and she wasn't just 'anyone else'.
He leaned forward. "Is there… anything I can do, Ahsoka?"
Sitting there and reading through military reports while his Padawan suffered was not on his agenda for the night.
Ahsoka studied her Master as best she could in the low light. She didn't want to be what he originally thought her to be. A tagalong kind who whined about something every five minutes. A nuisance.
"Uh…" She paused, trying to figure out what she was trying to ask for. "Just company would be nice. It helps. Well, sometimes."
Anakin nodded to himself. Company. He could do that. He casually used the Force to pull a blanket from his own mat over to where he sat beside Ahsoka. Shifting into a more comfortable position, he looked back down at his apprentice. "You should try to get some sleep. Tomorrow isn't going to be easy and you'll need your energy."
"Thanks," Ahsoka managed, picking up her own blanket and spreading it out over herself. She didn't bother to remind him the war wasn't ever easy. "I feel better already. Goodnight, Master."
Though she wasn't totally cured, knowing Anakin was there—and that he cared—made her feel a lot better.
As she drifted off to sleep, the storm died down until it was nothing but the occasional odd pitter-patter of raindrops.
Maybe the sky had a Master. And maybe it felt better now too.
Anakin stayed with his apprentice, even after she had fallen asleep. He read from his datapad, but every so often he would lower it to check on Ahsoka.
His Padawan had a bold personality that made him forget how young she really was. But when she was sleeping, she looked innocent. Peaceful.
He hoped the war wouldn't take that away from her.
He could see inside of the tent now. The sky was beginning to lighten. Soon he would have to wake her and fight beside her in a battle that could be the end of either of them.
No, he couldn't let his thoughts go there. He had protected her from her fear of thunderstorms. Maybe he could save her from the war, too.
"I'll never let anyone hurt you, Snips," he said quietly, his words echoing in the tent. "Promise."