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It wasn't uncommon for Anakin Skywalker to have nightmares. To wake up with sweat slicking his skin as skin prickling horrors raged in his mind. But for the last three days since Zygerria—since he was a slave again—the nightmares didn't seem to stop.
He was on Zygerria again. Walking through the market, past men and women and children who were being put on display to be sold to whatever wealthy sleemo that could get their hands on them. Slavers shuffled by, kowakians and other creatures moped about the streets as a light wind breezed past, sweeping up dust along with it.
But suddenly, as he kept walking, the dust covered stone beneath his feet turned into sand, and the sun on his skin began to burn in a familiar heat.
Twin suns now shone up ahead as Anakin continued forward, trudging through a street that was now lined with beige huts. He was on Tatooine. But something wasn't quite right.
The world seemed to be getting larger. No, that wasn't it—he was actually getting smaller. When Anakin looked down at himself, he was now nine years old again, dressed in sandy coloured rags and—
"Over there! There's the slave!"
Anakin whirled round to see a band of Zygerrian slavers standing at the end of the street, one of which was pointing right at him. His heart began to pound in his chest. No. No—
"After him! Catch that slave!"
Anakin started to run. But now that his body was the size of a nine year old, his legs wouldn't move as fast as he wanted them to, and the sweltering heat was only making it harder.
"Come back here, you slave!"
Anakin tripped, landing face first into the gritty sand beneath his feet. Before he could even push himself up, a strong, clawed hand pulled him up by the back of his shirt, leaving him to dangle and squirm in the air as the rest of the slavers swiftly encroached, circling around him with menacing grins.
"Let me go!"
"Now, now. What must we do to a slave who disobeys their Master?"
It was Scintel. The Zygerrian Queen stepped out into the circle, a few of the other slavers moving aside for her. Anakin couldn't stop the shiver that ran through his body as she ran her clawed hand over his face, before holding up his chin.
"Hmm...seems this one doesn't have his chip. Chip him. Then bring him to his Master. On his knees."
"No!"
Scintel barked out a laugh as she left the circle of slavers, disappearing from view before Anakin was pushed down onto his knees.
No. This wasn't happening. No. He couldn't get chipped again. He wasn't—he couldn't—
"No! Let me go! Let me go! I'm not a slave!"
"You are a slave, you useless skug!"
"No i'm not! Let me go! Let me go!"
Anakin squirmed and squirmed against the many hands now holding him down, trying to reach his neck.
"No! I'm not a slave! Let me go!"
"You are a slave. And you shall be treated as one."
Suddenly, the Zygerrian slavers surrounding him began to morph into other species. Hutts, Munes, Pykes, Chagrians. Gardulla was there, as well as Watto, and other slave drivers Anakin recognised from his past. They were laughing at him, chanting at him.
"Slave. Slave. Slave. Slave. SLAVE."
Anakin screamed.
"SLAVE."
Rough hands clawed at his neck.
"SLAVE!"
Holding him down.
"SLAVE!"
Grabbing his neck.
"Anakin."
Heart pounding.
"Anakin!"
Anakin bolted awake with a gasp.
"Hey—hey—"
Anakin's chest heaved as he sat upright, breathing hard and fast as his heart thudded rapidly in his chest. Right away there was a familiar hand on his back, a quiet voice trying to soothe him.
"Easy, Skyguy, it's alright. It was just a dream. You're okay. You're safe."
The room was dark—his room, he realised. And Ahsoka—Ahsoka was sitting on his bed with him, rubbing his back.
"Soka?" he panted.
"Yeah, it's me. You're okay. I'm right here."
With the nightmare replaying in the back of his mind, and the way that his Padawan was being so gentle as she attempted to soothe him, Anakin couldn't hold it back. Tears spilled out of his eyes and he curled into himself as he let out a strangled sob.
"Hey, shh, it's okay. You're okay."
Ahsoka shuffled closer as he buried his face in his hands, pulling his knees to his chest.
"Shh, shh...you're okay."
He didn't want Ahsoka to see him like this. But with the way she was soothingly rubbing his back, the raw gentleness in her voice as she continued to quietly whisper to him, Anakin couldn't help the tears from escaping him.
"I'm sorry," he choked out.
"Shh, you don't need to be sorry."
"I woke you up."
Ahsoka was quiet for a moment.
"You were screaming."
Anakin's breath hitched. He looked up, let out a sniff.
"I was?"
Ahsoka nodded empathically.
"Yeah," she said. "I came here to make sure you weren't being murdered or something."
Anakin sniffily chuckled at that, reaching up to rub his eyes. But then, despite that small moment of clarity, the echoes of his dream crept back into his mind and he couldn't stop the next sob from leaving him.
"Oh, Skyguy..."
Anakin didn't tense as Ahsoka wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in so that his head was resting on her shoulder.
"Shh, it's okay. It wasn't real. You're home. You're safe."
They stayed like that for a while.
––
"Okay. I want you to go through that again. From the top."
Nodding in acknowledgment, Ahsoka took to the opening stance of her kata, and Anakin moved to the side of the training room, just off the edge of the mat and watched as his Padawan began the sequence of forms, moving gracefully yet strong and steady as she travelled across the floor.
"Good work, Padawan. Keep it up."
Cringing at the sweat licking his skin as he ran the back of his flesh hand over his forehead, Anakin reached over to the bench briefly and picked up a cloth to wipe the sweat from his skin.
But as his hand moved to the side of his neck to wipe off the sweat there, something—a strange sort of feeling—rose within his chest. He stilled, keeping his fingers hovering over that one spot of his skin.
The spot where his slave chip used to be.
"You are a slave. And you shall be treated as one."
Anakin squeezed his eyes shut as his vision suddenly started to blur in front of him. He shook his head. No.
I'm not a slave.
"You are a slave..."
When Anakin opened his eyes, someone was walking towards him. A Zygerrian. Scintel.
His heart pounded in his chest.
"...And you are MINE."
The Zygerrian Queen reached out for him with one of her clawed hands, and Anakin instinctively jumped back, desperately straggling backwards to get away from her until he bumped into the wall. All around him, the walls of the training room were beginning to shrink. He was trapped. Cornered. And she was still moving closer, her claws reaching out for him—
But, no. How could she be here? Scintel was dead. She died in his arms. And he let it happen.
"Now, now. What must we do to a slave who disobeys their Master?"
Anakin was frozen. Even though his heart was thundering in his chest, and his chest hurt as panic flooded through his veins, he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.
This couldn't be happening. He wasn't a slave.
Not anymore.
As the Zygerrian Queen finally reached him, Anakin closed his eyes, braced himself for the inevitable as the walls closed in around him.
"You are a slave..."
A warm hand wrapped around his forearm.
"And you are M—"
"—Master?"
Huh?
"Anakin?"
That wasn't Scintel's voice anymore.
"Hey—Anakin—What's going on?"
Ahsoka?
Steeling himself, Anakin opened his eyes.
"Anakin, are you okay?"
Anakin blinked. Instead of Scintel, Ahsoka was now standing in front of him, concern etched all over her features as she took a small step back from him, holding her arms up in defence.
"I just want to help you," she said cautiously. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Anakin furrowed his brows. He looked down to find that he was holding his forearm protectively away from Ahsoka. Did he—
"Anakin, can you tell me what's wrong?"
Anakin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He still couldn't breathe, he realised. His chest hurt, and he could feel his body panting for breath, begging for air—but it couldn't—he couldn't—he wasn't—
"Hey—Anakin—I think you might be having a panic attack."
Anakin squeezed his eyes shut. Panic Attack? No—this was more than just some bout of panic—he couldn't breathe! And Scintel was just here—she was coming for him—and he couldn't escape! He couldn't escape, and he couldn't breathe, and his heart was going to burst out of his rib cage—
"Anakin, is it alright if I touch you?"
Not willing to open his eyes again, Anakin nodded desperately as he lifted his hand to clutch his chest, as if that would help the air get back into his lungs by ripping open his own flesh.
"Okay. Why don't we just sit down here for a minute."
Two small hands wrapped around his forearms, pulling his hand away from his chest, and then Anakin was being guided down, down, until he was sitting on what felt like a bench. The hands stayed on his forearms—Ahsoka's hands—grounding him as his lungs trembled for air.
"Anakin, I want you to try to match my breaths," Ahsoka said. Anakin felt as she gently began circling her thumb over the forearm of his flesh arm. The motion was soothing despite the crippling pain in his chest. "Breathe with me."
Following Ahsoka's words, Anakin listened for Ahsoka's breathing, attempted to match his own desperate breaths with her steady and even ones.
Slowly, slowly, as he focused on matching their breaths, Anakin felt his own beginning to calm down, going from rapid gasping pants for air to steady, yet slightly shaky, even breaths.
His chest didn't hurt as much now. And his heart didn't feel like it was about to burst through his rib cage anymore.
When he finally opened his eyes, Ahsoka was kneeling right there in front of him, giving him a gentle smile.
"Hey," she said quietly.
"Hey," Anakin replied, wincing at how his voice rasped as he did so.
"Here, take a few sips."
Ahsoka held up a bottle of water for him, and Anakin took it gratefully, lifting it to his lips as Ahsoka pushed herself up from the floor to sit on the bench beside him.
It was quiet as he took a few sips of water, looking around the training room to see that everything was exactly where it should be, and that the only other person in here was his Padawan.
Scintel isn't here, he reminded himself. She was never here. Because she couldn't be. She's dead. I saw it with my own eyes.
And i'm not a slave.
"So...” Ahsoka started, breaking the silence. “Do you want to tell me what happened?"
Anakin looked at Ahsoka. He opened his mouth, closed it.
He looked down at his lap.
"I don't want to talk about it."
Ahsoka placed her hand on his shoulder.
"That's alright," she said. "But…if, later, you do want to talk about it…I'll be here to listen."
––
"Mmm, thank you for recommending this, Ahsoka. This is delicious."
"You're welcome, Master Kenobi. I thought you might like it."
"I really do. I never thought to order something like this from Dex's before."
As he listened to the sound of clanging forks, his Padawan and former Master's light conversation over dinner as they sat around the table in Obi-Wan's quarters, Anakin was staring down at his plate, pushing his food around with the end of his fork. He wasn't hungry. He hadn't really been these past few days.
"Anakin, is there something wrong with your food?"
Anakin looked up.
"Huh?"
Obi-Wan was looking at him. His eyes narrowed slightly in concern.
"I asked if there was something wrong with your food?"
Anakin looked back down at his plate.
He shook his head.
"No," he said. "I...I'm just not that hungry right now."
Obi-Wan didn't question him any further after that, though Anakin could feel him exchanging subtle glances with Ahsoka at the other side of the table.
Anakin slouched a little in his chair.
They all went through crap on Zygerria. So it wasn't like he was the only one dealing with things...
"If you'll excuse me."
Anakin stood up from his chair, ignoring the sharp squeak of the chair legs as they scraped across the floor.
"Where are you going?" Obi-Wan asked as Anakin pushed past the table.
"What—So i'm not free to go to the 'fresher whenever I need?!"
Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise. He raised his hands placatingly, and Anakin felt a pang of guilt.
"I was just asking, Anakin," he said cautiously. "No need to get defensive."
Swallowing back his abrupt burst of defensiveness—as Obi-Wan called it—Anakin silently, awkwardly stood there for a moment. Before he turned away, ignoring the way his cheeks burned as he felt his Padawan’s and former Master's eyes burning holes into his back as he promptly started for the refresher down the hall.
With the ’fresher door sliding shut behind him, drowning out the quiet "do you think he's alright…?" from down the hall, Anakin gripped the edges of the sink, leaning heavily as he lowered his head, closing his eyes for a moment.
He let out a breath.
After a moment, he looked up, opened his eyes to see himself staring back in the reflection of the mirror.
He looked...tired. The bags under his eyes seemed to be turning into a permanent trait of his these days.
Turning on the tap, Anakin splashed some water over his face. The water was cool as it hit his skin. He let out a sigh.
Drying his face with a towel, Anakin stared back at his reflection. He lifted his hand to the side of his neck.
His heart thumped in his chest.
No.
It isn't there, he told himself. The healers removed it when I first arrived at the temple.
I'm not a slave.
Suddenly, shadows began to creep down from the corners of the room and morph around him, reaching out for him in the shape of clawed hands.
His breath hitched.
No.
"You are a slave..." the shadows whispered.
I'm not a slave.
I'm a person. And my name is Anakin.
"You are a slave. And you always will be."
One of the shadowed hands reached for his neck.
No!
Anakin reached up to his neck, desperately, miserably trying to remove the clawed shadows grip of him. Until—suddenly—
The shadow disappeared.
But, no. Something was still there.
As Anakin felt the side of his neck with his fingers, something...something was...
His heart thudded in his chest.
The chip.
He could feel it. Right there beneath his skin.
Right where it had always been.
"See?" the voice whispered again. "You are a slave."
No.
I'm not a slave.
"You always have been..."
I'm a person.
"And you always will be..."
And my name is...
"There is no escape..."
No—
"...for any of us."
Panic rising in his chest, Anakin cried out. His fingers clawed at his neck.
"GET OUT!"
He could feel it—the chip—sitting right there, bulging under his skin.
He had to get it out—had to—
"There is no escape..."
"GET OUT!" he cried.
Anakin dug his nails into his skin, tried desperately to claw out the chip, even as it stung—
"You are a slave."
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"
"You always have been."
"NO!"
"And you always will be."
"GET OUT!"
Once again, the shadows re-emerged all around him. They creeped down the walls, the floor, curled around his feet. Anakin shut his eyes, feeling them looming over him, engulfing him. Consuming him.
Chanting at him.
The voices of slave masters; Gardulla, Watto, Scintel. Their voices—
Anakin let out a cry. He tried to back away. His back hit hard tile.
"SLAVE. SLAVE. SLAVE. SLAVE—"
Panic pulsing in his chest, Anakin found himself sliding down to the floor. He pulled his legs to his chest, buried his face in his knees.
"There is no escape."
He started to sob.
I'm not a slave.
I'm a person. And my name is Anakin.
"For any of us."
As the voices continued to plague his mind, Anakin tried to ignore them, repeating those words in his head like a mantra even as his body trembled with every sob that wracked through him.
I'm a person. And my name is Anakin. I'm a person. And my name is Anakin. I'm a person. And my name is Anakin...
Suddenly, through the roaring cacophony in his head, Anakin heard a knock. It was coming from outside the 'fresher door.
"Anakin?" a voice called, slightly muffled.
Obi-Wan?
All of a sudden, miraculously, the voices stopped. Leaving Anakin alone listening to the sound of his hitching breaths, his thudding heart.
"Anakin, are you alright in there?"
Anakin's breath stuttered.
"We heard you shouting…and I just wanted to make sure everything's okay?"
Anakin didn't reply. There was another light knock on the door.
"Anakin?"
Then, more hushed, Anakin heard another voice speak up outside the door. It was Ahsoka, he realised. She was talking to Obi-Wan.
"...screaming in his sleep last night...earlier today, in the training room, something happened...he panicked..."
There were a few more hushed exchanges that Anakin couldn't quite pick up, before his former Master spoke up again.
"Anakin, is everything alright in there?" he asked. "Please, answer me."
Anakin swallowed, tasting salt. It burned as it went down his throat.
"Anakin, if you don't give me a reply then i'm going to come in there to make sure you're okay."
Anakin didn't—couldn’t—speak. Not while his heart was still pounding in his chest, his breath still trembling in his throat. After a moment, he heard a muffled sigh.
"Alright. I'm coming in."
Hearing the door slide open, feeling a gentle rush of air, soon Obi-Wan was kneeling in front of him, and Anakin couldn't help but curl into himself even tighter.
"Oh, Anakin...What's wrong, dear one?" Obi-Wan was saying. "Are you injured? Ill—"
Anakin shook his head. He let out a sniff.
"Okay. Well...please, talk to me, Anakin. Tell me what's going on."
Anakin only sniffled again, his breath stuttering in his throat.
"Anakin. Look at me."
Anakin shook his head. He could feel Obi-Wan and Ahsoka both staring at him, and he knew he should feel embarrassed and knew he should stop crying, but he just couldn't seem to stop himself from trembling.
I'm not a slave...
Obi-Wan quietly whispered something to Ahsoka, then Anakin felt the togruta quietly leave, heading towards the kitchen, leaving only his former Master sitting in the 'fresher with him.
Now that they were alone, Obi-Wan spoke again, quieter this time.
"It's just us now, Anakin. Please, look at me."
Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the way Anakin was really actually glad that Obi-Wan was here now; how his mere presence seemed to act like a balm, calming him down. But Anakin sheepishly lifted his head from his knees. He met Obi-Wan's gaze. Obi-Wan smiled; a smile laced with concern, but it was warm nonetheless.
"There you are," Obi-Wan whispered. He reached out, gently took hold of Anakin's wrists, his thumb drawing gentle circles right over his racing pulse.
"Now, can you please tell me what's wrong?" he continued, "And—before you try to say that you're fine—you're obviously not fine. Ahsoka's worried about you. She told me that you were screaming in your sleep last night, and something happened while you were training today?"
Anakin sniffled, reached up to wipe his eyes. Obi-Wan was looking at him expectantly. He opened his mouth to speak.
"I..."
But he could still feel it—
The chip.
Sitting in his neck.
He needed to get it out.
I'm not a slave.
"I—I need to get it out, Obi-Wan," he whined, his breath hitching again. The older Jedi's brows furrowed in confusion.
"Get what out?" Obi-Wan asked. "Anakin, what are you—"
"It's—" Anakin tried to reach for his neck. "—I can't—It's—I—I can't get it out!"
Just as his fingertips brushed against his skin, Anakin winced as a stinging pain throbbed through the area. Obi-Wan immediately grabbed his hand to stop him, leaning in closer and pushing back his hair to get a look at his neck.
Obi-Wan let out a quiet gasp.
"Anakin..."
"It's still there, Master..." Anakin whimpered. "...I can't get it out."
"Anakin..." Obi-Wan said nervously, "You think there's something in your neck? Please, tell me—what is it you think is in there?"
Anakin let out another whine.
"The chip!"
"The 'chip'?" Obi-Wan questioned. "Anakin, what chip—what do you mea—" The older Jedi's eyes widened in realisation. "Oh…"
Something dark passed through Obi-Wan's gaze. Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, lowered his head.
"Anakin. Your chip was removed when you came to the temple. I was with you. There's nothing there." Anakin felt calloused fingers lightly feel across the raw part of his neck. "See? I can't feel anything in your skin, and I can't sense anything either. There's no chip, Anakin."
"Then why can I feel it?"
"I don't know, Anakin."
"I...I can't—they told me—"
"Anakin—" Obi-Wan's hands took hold of his shoulders. "Who's 'they'—Who told you—"
"Them—" Anakin let out another whine. "My—they—they were in my head!"
"Anakin—"
"—And I know she's dead—but I could hear her!"
"Anakin—who—"
"—But now, I—I..." Unable to hold it back, Anakin burst into a wretched sob. "...I can't."
It was silent for a long moment, spare for the horrible, awful sounds coming from his mouth. But then a pair of familiar arms were wrapping around him, pulling him in, and Anakin just let himself go as he buried his face into Obi-Wan's robes.
Anakin felt like a little kid again. Back when he first came to the temple, and he would wake up crying after a nightmare about Watto, and Obi-Wan would hold him, soothing him until he calmed down.
"Anakin, look at me," Obi-Wan whispered, brushing back his hair. He took Anakin's face in his hands. When Anakin opened his eyes, through the tears blurring his vision, he saw his former Master's gentle eyes looking into his.
"The chip isn't there, Anakin," he said firmly. "It's not there. I promise you."
Anakin nodded his head, squeezed his eyes back shut. Obi-Wan guided his head back down to rest against his shoulder. And with the way he was softly whispering to him, telling him shh, it's okay, you're alright, the way he was holding him in his arms—it all felt so similar to when he was younger that it only made Anakin cry even harder, hugging his Master tight, not wanting to let go.
They stayed like that for a while.
Eventually, Anakin's sobs dulled into quiet sniffles. Soon he sat back, pulling away from Obi-Wan's shoulder to reach up and wipe his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered, still keeping a gentle arm around his back.
"What are you sorry for?" Anakin questioned, looking up at the older Jedi's face. "You don't need to be sorry."
Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, and Anakin only felt more puzzled at the odd gaze Obi-Wan was giving him.
"You don't have to talk about it," the man finally said. And, with the knowing look Obi-Wan was giving him, realisation dawned on Anakin. He averted his gaze, looking down at his lap.
"And, I know I can never fully understand," Obi-Wan continued, "But i'm here for you, Anakin. What we all went through on Zygerria, and on...Kadavo, was horrible. And, looking back, I really should have reasoned with the Council about sending someone else on that mission in your place, considering your past—though, we can't change what's already been done. But, I just want you to know that I want to help you, Anakin. If there's anything I can do…?"
Anakin wiped his eyes again, letting out a sniffle. Obi-Wan reached up, gently began to brush back his hair.
"If you want to talk," Obi-Wan whispered, "I'll be right here to listen. It's okay if you don't want to talk right now, but, when you're ready..."
Anakin nodded in acknowledgment. He sniffled again, lifted his arm to wipe his nose with his sleeve.
"Alright?" Obi-Wan whispered. Anakin was about to nod, when he felt a sharp tug in his hair. "Oh. Sorry. I just found a knot in your hair. Let me just untangle it for you..."
Without giving him a chance to argue, Obi-Wan moved round slightly to sit behind him, and Anakin tried not to wince whenever there was a painful tug as the older Jedi attempted to untangle the knot.
"Anyway—" Obi-Wan continued, his fingers still working in Anakin's hair, "What I was about to say is that you and Ahsoka are welcome to stay here tonight, if you would like that?"
Feeling something in his chest light up at that idea, Anakin nodded his head.
"I'd like that," he said, a small smile forming on his lips.
"Great."
After one last tug, seeming to have successfully untangled the knot in his hair, Obi-Wan gave his head a gentle pat, all done, before moving back round to sit against the wall. Anakin did the same, shuffling back until he was sitting against the wall beside him. Obi-Wan watched him with a gentle expression.
"You and Ahsoka can sleep in my bed tonight," he said softly. "I will sleep on the couch." But then Obi-Wan gave him a look, "Unless..."
Anakin didn't need words to know what Obi-Wan meant: Unless he wanted to stay with him for the night.
When he was younger, often Obi-Wan would let him sleep in his bed with him after he had woken up from a nightmare. A lot of those times it was because Anakin had fallen asleep while Obi-Wan was holding him, and his Master didn't have the heart to wake him up and move him back to his own bed. But every other time, Obi-Wan would ask him if he wanted to stay, and would let him cuddle up with him for the night.
Anakin smiled a little at the memory. But he shook his head.
"I'll be okay," he said. Obi-Wan gently patted his shoulder.
"Alright."
They sat there for another few moments in companionable silence before Obi-Wan moved to get up. But as he did so, the older Jedi let out a wince, the movement seeming to pull on the wounds Anakin knew were still healing.
It had been bad when they had finally rescued Obi-Wan and Rex from Kadavo. When Anakin had first seen him he thought Obi-Wan had looked terrible. But when his stubborn former Master finally got treated (by Anakin himself, decidedly, since the man had managed to evade medbay once they were safely on the cruiser, unwilling to let anyone touch him until Anakin finally managed to get through to him), Anakin had been practically nauseated by the sight when he lifted Obi-Wan's tunic.
"Are you okay?" he asked, watching as Obi-Wan reached out to brace himself with the wall.
To Anakin's confusion, the older Jedi let out a shocked chuckle.
"Obi-Wan?"
"I'm sorry, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, turning to face him, "It's just...you're asking me if i'm okay, now?"
Anakin opened his mouth, closed it.
Well of course i'm gonna ask if you're okay, old man. Your back is covered in healing whip-wounds and bruises—Of course i'm gonna make sure you're okay!
Anakin narrowed his eyes, Obi-Wan let out a sigh.
"I'm fine, Anakin," he said. "Really. It just...pulled at one of my wounds a little when I stood up. Nothing serious."
"I was just asking, old man," Anakin said, rolling his eyes.
Letting out another light chuckle, Obi-Wan held out his hand for Anakin.
"Well, I appreciate your concern, Padawan."
Anakin frowned at the use of that old moniker, narrowing his eyes when he saw the mischievous glint in Obi-Wan's gaze. Obi-Wan grinned.
"Former Padawan," Obi-Wan amended, giving an over exaggerated eye roll.
Shaking his head, and attempting to stifle a grin, Anakin took Obi-Wan's hand.
"Come on," the older Jedi said, helping him to his feet. "I think your Padawan is brewing some tea..."
––
As his former Master left for the bedroom to prepare the bed for Anakin and Ahsoka to sleep in, Anakin padded into the living space and took a seat on the couch, giving his Padawan a reassuring smile as she approached him holding out a mug of steaming hot tea.
"Fancy some tea?" she said. "It's still quite hot, so be careful you don't burn yourself."
Quickly pushing a few loose strands of hair away from the sensitive side of his neck (which was now covered in soothing bacta gel that Obi-Wan had applied for him after noticing his neck looked “terribly sore” once they had stood up and moved into better lighting), Anakin gratefully took the mug from Ahsoka's hands and nodded his thanks.
"So," he said, as Ahsoka sat down next to him, "Since when did you learn how to make tea?"
"Master Kenobi taught me," Ahsoka replied matter-of-factly, proudly sticking out her chin. "He is a great teacher."
Anakin huffed out a laugh.
Trust me, I know.
"Great," he said, sarcastically, "Please don't tell me I have to deal with another person who's obsessed with tea..."
Ahsoka giggled beside him.
"Don't worry," she said, "I'm not as obsessed as him."
"You're not as obsessed as who?" a voice rang out from behind them.
Simultaneously, Anakin and his Padawan turned around to see the Jedi in question walking towards them with a curious grin.
"What are you two up to?" Obi-Wan asked, leaning against the back of the couch with his hands. "I know a mischievous look when I see one."
"Oh, nothing, Master Kenobi," Ahsoka said innocently. "Anakin and I were just discussing tea."
Obi-Wan looked between them with a questioning gaze before he stood back, lifting a hand to stroke his beard in that typical way of his.
"Hm," he said. "I like tea."
Looking at Ahsoka, Anakin and his Padawan shared a look filled with loving exasperation.
"We know," they chorused.
And, after the Jedi had finished their tea, gotten ready for bed and brushed their teeth, Anakin found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling as he laid there on the mattress next to his Padawan.
He let out a sigh.
He was tired. But his mind wouldn't seem to let him sleep. No matter how many times he would close his eyes and stare at the insides of his eyelids.
Beside him, he could tell that Ahsoka was awake too. From the slightly uneven patterns of her breathing, the way she would lightly scratch her arm every few minutes.
Maybe it was just to fill the silence, or maybe it was because of the words floating in his mind;
"It's okay if you don't want to talk right now, but, when you're ready..."
"...Anakin doesn't like to talk about his past..."
"...If, later, you do want to talk..."
"...I'll be here to listen."
But Anakin squeezed shut his eyes and let out a breath. Maybe, now...it was time.
"Snips?" he whispered.
Beside him, he felt Ahsoka shift.
"Yeah, Skyguy?"
He swallowed. He turned onto his side to face her. Ahsoka was looking at him, waiting expectantly for him to speak.
"I know i've never really talked about my past," he started, "But, I think it's time that I let you know about it? Coming from me directly, at least—"
"Oh—Obi-Wan told me tha—"
"It's okay," he cut her off. "I know. Obi-Wan told me about that. He meant well. And...i'm sorry I never told you about it sooner."
Ahsoka gave him an forgiving smile. He let out a breath.
"But," he continued, "I think i'm ready to talk about it now."
Ahsoka placed her hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure?"
Anakin nodded.
"I'm sure."
As Ahsoka listened, Anakin began to tell her a little about his past as a slave; about Watto and his mother, about the slave chips and what would happen if they ever tried to escape.
As he continued, Anakin felt something in his chest begin to become lighter, like a weight he didn't even realise had been there was being slowly lifted off of his chest.
When the room lapsed back into silence again, it was quiet for a few moments as Ahsoka seemed to sit there, processing his words. But then, quietly, she spoke.
"Wow...That's..."
"Awful?" Anakin cut in. "I know..."
Ahsoka’s gaze softened. She shook her head.
"You're really strong, Master," she said after a few moments.
Anakin blinked.
"What?" he joked, flexing his biceps to show off his muscles, "These?"
Ahsoka rolled her eyes at him with a chuckle, gave him a punch on the arm.
"Hey—"
"I mean it," she said, gathering herself again. Her voice was soft and genuine as she spoke. "You're strong."
Not knowing what to say, Anakin averted his gaze, bowing his head as a warm feeling flooded his chest.
A moment later, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm proud of you for telling me about that," Ahsoka whispered. "I know that topic was hard for you."
Still not meeting Ahsoka's eyes, Anakin weakly nodded.
It was quiet for another moment, before Ahsoka whispered, "Can I give you a hug?"
With a sheepish smile, Anakin looked up and gave her a nod.
"Come here, Skyguy."
Ahsoka opened her arms for him, and Anakin immediately leaned in as Ahsoka pulled him into the hug, their arms settling around each other's backs as he buried his cheek into Ahsoka's shoulder, closing his eyes.
As they stayed like that, quietly, quietly, Ahsoka whispered, "Your mother would be so proud of you."
And in that moment, Anakin heard an echo of a voice from long ago:
I'm so proud of you, Ani.
Anakin felt tears well in his eyes. He turned his head, buried his face in Ahsoka's shoulder.
Ahsoka held him tighter.
And when a small sniffle escaped him, she began to gently rub circles over his back. The motion was soothing, and even as his tears surely began to soak her shoulder, his Padawan didn't pull away.
"We should probably go to sleep now," Ahsoka whispered after a while. Anakin shifted his head on her shoulder.
"Probably," he murmured, opening his eyes. He tried to blink away the moisture.
"It'll be alright," Ahsoka said quietly. Anakin snaked up a hand to rub his eyes. "If you have a nightmare again, or whatever it was...I'll be right here for you."
"I know," he replied, letting out a breath.
"And, Anakin?" Ahsoka said after another long moment. She pulled away this time, and Anakin sneaked a hand up to wipe his eyes as they both sat back. Ahsoka’s hand stayed on his back. He met her gaze.
"Hm?"
"Do you remember what we talked about, when we were on the cruiser after Kadavo?” she said. “How after this war is over, the two of us will go end slavery together?"
Anakin remembered that conversation, standing in the hangar of the cruiser with his Padawan in amongst the Togrutan people they had helped save that day. He nodded.
"Yeah. I do."
"Well," she whispered, "I'm serious about that. When this war is over, that's what we'll do, me and you."
Anakin gave her a grateful smile.
"Well, i'm glad to have you by my side, my Padawan."
Ahsoka smiled back.
"And you, my Master."
And with that, Ahsoka swiftly moved forward and pulled him into a hug. The embrace was short, but Anakin squeezed back, gratitude flooding their bond even after they both pulled away.
"Well," Ahsoka whispered, "We really should go to sleep now, shouldn't we?"
Anakin breathed out a chuckle.
"Yeah, we probably should," he whispered back. "Don't want Obi-Wan coming in here to tell you off because it's past your bedtime."
"Um, excuse me, Master, but what makes you so sure he wouldn't be chiding you too? Besides, he'd probably come over and tuck you in if you wouldn't slap him."
Anakin opened his mouth, closed it. He crossed his arms.
"Sleep tight, my little former Padawan," Ahsoka teased, making her voice deeper, mimicking Obi-Wan's Coruscanti accent. "And don't let the bed-bugs bite—"
"He does not sound like that," Anakin cut in, shaking his head with an eye roll, even as he desperately tried to stop a grin from growing on his lips.
"Huh—Sounded pretty realistic to me."
"Like you have any bearing on what good acting sounds like," Anakin said, thinking back to his Padawan's...slightly over-the-top performance while they were meeting with the Queen on Zygerria. It was remarkable that the Queen had even bought their little facade in the beginning.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm just saying, do you remember your little acting display—or should I say—terrible over-the-top performance on Zygerria?"
Ahsoka crossed her arms with a pout. Anakin let out an amused chuckle.
"You know, you should really take acting lessons from Obi-Wan."
Ahsoka rolled her eyes.
"I'm serious." Anakin gave Ahsoka's shoulder a light punch. "After all, he is a great teacher," he said slyly. "You know, you've really gotta watch who you make fun of, because that man could teach you a few things."
Giving his Padawan a gentle pat on the head in between her montrals, Anakin slid down to lie on his side, pulling his blanket up to his chin as he settled his head on the pillow (Obi-Wan had given them each a blanket to use before they had gotten into bed after telling Ahsoka how he knew "how Anakin likes to hog blankets"—which Anakin thought was absolutely ridiculous. He does no such thing. Well…not anymore).
"Are you just gonna sit there and glower, or are you gonna lie down and actually go to sleep?" he asked, looking at Ahsoka, who was staring at him with a pettish glare.
Giving him another petulant eye roll in reply, Anakin didn't miss the small grin that formed on Ahsoka's lips as she finally lay down next to him, pulling her blanket over herself. As her head hit the pillow, Anakin gave Ahsoka a warm smile as she looked at him with a sheepish smile of her own, her brief case of the grumps turning out to be all but short lived.
"Goodnight, Anakin," she whispered. Then, with a slightly mischievous smirk, she added, "And don't let the bed-bugs bite."
Shaking his head with a chuckle, Anakin closed his eyes.
"Goodnight, Snips."