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Nights on Tatooine were cold.
Anakin hated it. He hated when they had to return here. He hated the sand and the stiffling heat and the freezing cold, the sight of the twin suns alone was enough to leave him retching. Whenever he landed on the planet’s surface, he always tried not to look at the stretching expanse of sand and golden dunes for too long - the desert always had ways to draw you to it, the old stories were clear about that.
The last mission was a little too close. Anakin had gotten a broken arm for his trouble - had little to no assistance available, so he had to let it heal normally now, months of no active duty, of no field missions, of nothing but waiting it out, staying low, staying safe.
Padmé was sleeping next to him - it was the first time he’d seen her in months.
They had to get her out, someone leaked the location of their safehouse in Corellia and Imperial forces were already being dispatched to her location when they got word. There was little time and very few choices. Anakin had trusted no one but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka to keep them safe, to bring them to him, and had argued and screamed at the Rebellion officers that kept him grounded, that tried to reason with him that he needed to wait, that he would only put himself and them in danger in the state he was in.
“You are the most wanted criminal in the galaxy!” One of them screamed at him and Anakin had followed the call of dunes, storming off into the desert in his rage.
Rex showed up first, Padmé and the kids in tow, in their safehouse in Tatooine. It was posing as a moisture farm, another one of hundreds, indistinguishable from any other. Padmé had jumped into his arms as soon as her eyes landed on him, the twins had wrapped themselves around both their parents, and there was peace for a moment, for a singular shining moment.
Obi-Wan and Ahsoka appeared hours later. With all of them so close, Anakin could breathe properly again, could sit and close his eyes and let the Force wash over him, reassure him that all was as it should, all was as good as it could be.
It could be worse, he told himself, at least he had this.
Still.
Tatooine.
The wretched place seemed to have a way of bringing him back to its wasteland.
The first time he had returned after his entire world fell apart, after the Temple fell, after Order 66 was put into place, the twins were still nursing at Padmé’s breast. He hadn’t known if Ahsoka was alive. He had been dragging a barely conscious Obi-Wan through the sand, Padmé and Quinlan Vos scouring ahead with the children. The panic was paralysing. The panic was all he could taste. The pain was all he could feel. Obi-Wan wasn’t aware, but at least he wasn’t bleeding anymore.
The safehouse was established three years ago - officially. But it was being used, unofficially, since the fall of the Republic. It was an Outer Rim planet, perfect for those trying to escape Imperial detection, and it was useful. That’s what he kept telling himself whenever he had to return - it was useful, it kept them safe, it helped them survive.
It never made it any easier, though, the act of returning.
So, like he did every time, Anakin tried to push back the immediate panic of being back here to bask in the rare presence of his wife, of his children, the sweet relief of being able to hold them, of being able to reach out and know that they were within reach.
The Force was settled. It always was on the rare occasions they were all together. Obi-Wan was sleeping in the room down the hall, Ahsoka and Rex were outside, he could hear them faintly as they talked in hushed tones, unable to sleep too. They were all under the same roof - his family, a little tired, a little worse for wear, but all alive, still fighting.
There was a ripple, an amused warning from the unseen energy around them, before Anakin heard the footsteps. He grinned at the ceiling, could identify those quick little footsteps immediately, and waited to see what would happen.
The door to their bedroom creaked open. Padmé moved in her sleep, her body unconsciously seeking Anakin’s, not pressing their bodies together, but seeking his warmth in the night, and the little one hesitated, waited for her to settle before moving further into the room.
Anakin turned his head to side, catching sight of big brown eyes, of braided brown hair, and raised an eyebrow.
Leia sighed and answered his silent question, “I can’t sleep.”
Anakin hummed, understanding.
“Too cold?”
“Not really.” She mumbled and Anakin patted the bed next to him and Padmé.
His daughter didn’t need anymore encouragement, she clambered up the bed, kneed him in the stomach - Anakin grunted, Leia just giggled, it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, right next to Luke’s laughter -, and carefully got comfortable between them, trying not to jostle Padmé too much and wake her. She rested her head on Anakin’s shoulder, her braid coming apart a little, and Anakin wished he could hold her, but his arm was encased in the cast - the bacta inside was cool and itchy, he hated it - and he was told to keep from moving it as much as he could. That same arm lay between Anakin and his daughter, she seemed to be consciously trying not to touch it, but he could feel her eyes on it.
“Does it hurt?” She asked, giving in to her urge and poking the cast carefully with her index finger. Anakin couldn’t even feel it.
“Not right now.”
“Will it hurt?”
His Leia, too smart for her own good.
“Yeah.” Anakin admitted. “I take special medicine for it, though, to keep it from hurting too much.”
Leia’s relief was palpable.
“Good. That’s good.” She muttered, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t like this place.”
Anakin tensed, his stomach turned, and he closed his eyes against the wave of grief that washed over him.
“Why, sweetheart?” He forced himself to ask, felt like he knew the answer already, but needed to hear it all the same.
“It’s a sad place. It hurts.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It screams sometimes. It’s loud. Luke said if you sing to it, it usually goes to sleep.”
Luke was sweet. Of course he sang to the wretched planet. Of course he tried to soothe it.
He bit his lower lip, wished he could spare her this, but the Force was strong in her, strong in Luke, and even though they started training them, shielding was always difficult, especially in places like Tatooine, old places, steeped in suffering, in pain, in death. Anakin’s own shields were fraying at the edges, barely tangible.
“I’m sorry, princess.”
She shrugged. “It’s alright. I’m trying to keep the shields up, like you and Uncle Ben taught me, but it’s…it hurts.”
Anakin leaned down and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Want to try to meditate with me?”
She giggled again. “You hate meditating, Daddy.”
Anakin laughed too, trying to keep the sound low, a whisper of a thing. “Only ‘cause I’m no good at it.”
“It’s alright. You’re good at other things.” She patted him on the chest, no doubt meant to be comforting. “Mama says we have to play to our strengths.” She fidgeted a little. “I don’t think I understand what that means.”
“It means you should focus on what you’re good at.”
“Yeah. That makes sense. See? You should focus on what you’re good at, Daddy.”
He laughed.
“Do you think we’ll leave soon?”
His heart ached.
“Why are you sad, Daddy?”
Anakin inhaled sharply - checked his shields, cursed himself silently.
“Don’t do that, Leia.” He scolded, gentle. “Shields up, come on.”
“Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all and Anakin bit back a smile.
Her teenage years were going to be a mess.
“Close your eyes.” Anakin instructed, felt strangely like he was back at the Temple, trying to get Ahsoka to focus, trying to get himself to focus on a lesson he hated giving. Leia hummed, the go-ahead that she was doing as told, and Anakin did the same, figured he might as well work on his own shielding while they were there. “Picture a house. Can you see it?”
“Yeah.”
Curious, he asked, “What house did you pick?”
“Grandma’s house in Naboo.”
Anakin nodded, pleased. “That’s a good one.”
“And you?”
“My mother’s house.” He answered, honest, and his gut clenched just the reminder of his mother, but he pushed through. “Around the house, picture a big wall. Can you see it?”
Leia made an affirmative sound.
“How does it look?”
“Brick. Uncle Ben said brick is better.”
“Alright. Picture each brick going into the wall, one by one. Can you see it?”
Another affirmative sound, slower this time, and he knew, without even peeking at her Force-signature, that she was falling asleep.
“Do you see the cracks between the bricks?”
She nodded.
“Picture filling those cracks with the Force itself, use it to keep your wall together, to keep the bricks woven to each other.”
Leia exhaled loud. “That’s hard.”
“Why?”
“There’s a lot of bricks, Daddy.”
Anakin chortled, the noise louder than expected, and Leia shushed him.
“Sorry, sorry.”
She made a long suffering sigh, something adult, so akin to Obi-Wan that Anakin had to keep from giggling, used every bit of his willpower to keep his face serious.
“Make the wall as big as you can.” He instructed, his voice strained with the need to laugh, and Leia exhaled again, this time a sleepy noise, a sign that she was going to go under any moment now.
He could use the Force to make her sleep, but it could be invasive, especially with children, so he tried to avoid doing so unless completely necessary.
“As tall as you.” She slurred, falling further and further into unconsciousness.
Anakin kissed the top of her head, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, trying to keep from crying.
“That’s good, princess. That’s perfect.”
He felt the moment she fell asleep - the Force hummed, almost like the finishing dulcet tones of a song.
He cried then, swallowing back sobs, trying to keep his body still.
His little girl. Leia trusted him to keep her safe, and here was Anakin, reckless, breaking an arm during a routine mission, having her taken to a desolate planet that hurt everyone it touched, that made her ache, that made her scared. What kind of Father did that? What was he doing? How did he think he could keep them safe?
“Ani?”
He whimpered, wiping his tears away with the back of his gloved hand - the one not attached to the arm he broke being careless, why was he so karking careless?
“Ani? Is that Leia?” Padmé asked, voice heavy with sleep, barely awake.
She hadn’t noticed.
Anakin hummed a noise he hoped was enough of an answer for his wife.
“Nightmare?”
“It’s alright, angel.” Anakin murmured, trying to keep his voice leveled. “I got it covered.”
“Good.” She sighed. “Let me know if you need something.” Her voice fell quieter and quieter, and it seemed as if she too fell asleep, quick, feeling safe beside him.
He looked at their room’s cracked ceiling, silently seething at himself, and cried.
Outside, Tatooine’s cold cut through the landscape.