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The smell of slagged transparisteel from the lift she’d cut through was still with her when Ahsoka heard a friendly voice nearby shout, “There you are!”
It couldn’t be for her—she had barely been to this level before, and her face was hidden beneath the hood she’d acquired. Ahsoka ignored it, and continued on down the alley.
Until an arm was suddenly slung around her shoulders, her body tugged in against someone else. “I’ve been waiting on you, baby!”
How had he gotten in so close? Surprise stalled any other reaction she might have had, and then he was leaning closer still. “You had a tail on you, but they’re not a problem now,” he murmured, “Don’t worry, I’ve got a safe spot you can hole up in nearby.”
She should have shoved him away—she knew that. Instead, though she couldn’t say why, she let him guide her down the alleyways until he was keying open a tucked-away door. “Sorry there isn’t much to this place,” he told her, skinning out of his jacket and letting it drop to the floor before heading over to the tiny kitchen area, “if it was one of my rooms on the higher levels it would be more cozy. You want a water or something?”
The mental fog that had seemed to take her was lifting but she still felt off-balance; Ahsoka shook her head.
Shrugging, he retrieved a bottle for himself and downed it with a few long pulls. “I’m Anakin, by the way,” he supplied belatedly before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And like I was saying—it’s not much, but it’s comfortable enough and the security’s good.” She tracked him as he made his way back to her. “So don’t worry, baby,” he told her, resting warm hands on her shoulders, “you’re safe here.”
Finally finding her voice, she sniped before she could stop herself, “I’m not your baby.”
He only chuckled. “Weird bone to pick given your situation, but okay,” he held up his hands, placating, “Ahsoka.” He gestured her toward a comfy-looking chair across from a very lived-in couch.
But he’d known her name. It raised her guard, despite his earlier assurance. “You know who I am?”
Waving off the question, “Pretty sure most people do at this point.” Scooping up a remote control, he flicked on the holo in the room before flopping down in a half-sprawl on the couch. “You’ve been all over the holonet.” Proving his point as he suspected it would, her wanted poster flashed in the blue glow of the broadcast; he turned it off again, tossing the remote aside.
Ahsoka wrapped her arms around herself. “Then you know what they’re saying about me.”
“That you’re a Jedi that bombed your own temple?” He fidgeted idly with the cord of his necklace. “Yeah, I know.”
The knowledge didn’t help put her at ease. “But you’re helping me?” A nod. “ Why? ”
Anakin blinked at her like it should have been obvious. “Because you didn’t do it.”
Ahsoka reared back at the simplicity of the statement and she found herself shaking her head. “How can you be so sure?”
A shrug, “Because I know it’s true.”
This random man had known her for all of—well, he didn’t know her at all, and he said it so easily when her own Masters couldn’t see it. Her knees suddenly felt like they were going to fold, and she collapsed into the chair he’d offered. “I...”
She didn’t know what to say.
There was a sympathetic twist to his lips, eyebrows knitting as he slid off of the couch and came to kneel in front of her. “Alright, Ms. Jedi, look—“ he took her hands into his own, “you need to believe that you’re safe with me. So I’m going to let you in on a little secret, okay?” He nodded, demonstrating, and waited until she did it along with him. “Okay.”
At first there was nothing; then, a ripple. Then, a Presence so strong she could have been sitting with Master Yoda—no, stronger still. “You—you’re—“
“Very good at hiding,” he grinned, “A Jedi taught me how, among other things.”
The Presence receded again, as though she’d never felt it in the first place; he really was good at hiding. “How—“ She had so many questions, she wasn’t sure where to start. “How are you not at the Temple?” Especially if he’d received instruction from another Jedi…
Anakin’s expression darkened for a moment, but he shook it off. “That’s not really important. What is , is that now you know you’re safe.” He patted the backs of her hands. “And how I know you’re innocent.”
“You learned to read people?” And very well, too; she hadn’t felt the slightest hint of him in her mind until he’d allowed her to.
He nodded. “It comes in handy for work.” He got to his feet, brushed off his knees. “You want that water now?”
“Please,” she managed, giving a quiet thanks when he handed her the bottle. Ahsoka intended to sip it, but emptied half the contents once the first splash hit her tongue. Forcing herself to slow down, she took in her immediate surroundings. The space was practically as bare as an Initiate’s room at the temple, stripped down to little more than the essentials. “You don’t live here all the time?”
“No.” Ahsoka startled at his voice behind her; he’d slipped her notice again. “This one is usually just for crashing after drag races.”
He dangled another bottle over her shoulder, and she took it gratefully. “And the others?”
Anakin huffed a laugh, settling on the floor in front of her again. “One for living, one for business.” Obviously amused, “Does it seem frivolous to you?”
Ahsoka shook her head. “Some very good friends of mine have homes on multiple worlds,” she joked weakly, “You stuck to one.”
He laughed a little more boisterously that time and she took the opportunity to finish the first bottle of water. “I like you, Ms. Jedi.” Anakin smiled when, after setting down her empty, she pushed back her hood. “That’s a bit better. Probably haven’t really gotten to relax since....” he gestured toward his quiet holo.
Twitching a small smile, “Kind of an understatement.”
A comforting pat to her knee, “I can help you with that too, if you want.” Anakin shifted, rising up to brace his hands on the arms of her chair. “I’m very good at what I do.”
She found herself tracking his movements again, though less warily than before. “What you do?”
“Yeah,” he offered her the hint of a smile, reached out to stroke a hand down one of her lekku, “On the upper levels.”
She shivered at the gesture, then startled with realization, stuttered, “You work in—“
His expression shifted to a wolfish grin, finishing, “Sex.”
Understanding gave way to embarrassment, she could feel her lekku flush; belatedly she brushed off his hand, still resting on one of them. “I was going to say…” she tried to think of a more delicate way to put it, “hospitality.”
His grin only widened. “No need to be polite around here.”
Politeness felt like the only thing keeping her from going completely tongue-tied. “That’s, uhm,” she floundered, “that’s okay. It’s not the Jedi way.” The excuse sounded flimsy, even to her own ears.
A feeling that only strengthened as he let out another peal of laughter. “Sorry, sorry—” he held up his hands apologetically, “but that is...” Anakin took in a deep breath to squelch the last of his chuckling, settling into another sympathetic grin. “That is not at all true.”
Ahsoka blinked eyes as wide as a convor’s. “You’ve…” she still wasn’t quite comfortable being as blunt as he was, “worked…with Jedi?”
“Sometimes.” It was his elbows on the arms of the chair now, and he laced his fingers to rest his chin on them. “I have a soft spot for a few that I don’t charge.”
Giving her head a little shake, Ahsoka opened her second bottle of water and drained it to give herself the time to process everything. If it were any other day—any normal day—all of these new notions would have surprised her, but she would’ve been able to roll with them and continue about her business. But today she stood falsely accused of a heinous crime and was being hunted by her own people; she’d been running on pure adrenaline and, after the time she’d spent with this riddle of a man, it was starting to fade. It was all…a lot.
Maybe he was picking up on her feelings—he was certainly powerful enough, and she wasn’t at her best for shielding at the moment—because he said, “It doesn’t need to be so complicated, Ms. Jedi. You’re wound tighter than a Corellian chrono right now, and that’s no good if you want to last long enough to clear your name.” He tilted his head like one of the tookas she’d seen in the alleys. “I’m just offering to lend a hand,” a playful quirk of his lips, “or any other body part you might prefer.”
Letting her head fall back against the chair, Ahsoka sighed. After a moment she told him, “I think I’d like your mouth.” Taken by surprise, Anakin looked impressed—then rolled his eyes as she clarified, “ For talking .” Another sigh. “I haven’t been able to talk to anyone normally in—” she realized suddenly that she didn’t know the right amount of time, it had all gotten so blurred together, “since I was arrested.” She rolled her shoulders, looked down at the empty bottle as she rotated it in her hands. “I don’t think you can understand how big a relief it is to be able to right now.”
“No, I get it.” He took the bottle gently from her and set it on the floor next to the other. “Someone blew up that temple, and your whole world with it. It’s not easy, having your life changed on you like that.” There was a quiet honesty in his voice that said it wasn’t just a platitude, that he might truly understand. But in a flash that sincerity evaporated with a beaming smile. “And plenty of people who come to me just want to talk.” Inclining his head inquisitively, “What’s on your mind, Ms. Jedi?”
She took another breath as she tried to let herself relax a little more, quiet her mind. Details she hadn’t had the space to notice earlier began to filter back to her... “What happened to my tail?”
“Hm?” blinking innocently up at her, “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a togruta with one of those. Is it like how some twileks have extra lekku?”
Rolling her eyes, Ahsoka told him flatly, “You know what I mean.” Crossing her arms, “You said I had one earlier, but they weren’t a problem anymore.”
After a moment Anakin tipped his head, leaning back on his hands. “That’s an odd place to start, for conversation.”
“You said you wanted me to feel safe, didn’t you?”
He gave another tip of his head. “Fair enough. I just,” he passed his hand through the air in a gesture she’d seen her Master and Grand Master make, “put her out for a few hours, to let your trail get cold. She’ll be fine.”
He’d said it like it was some simple thing, but the answer only gave Ahsoka more questions. Though it was a comfort, she supposed, that he hadn’t done anything permanent. “What else can you do?”
Shrugging one shoulder, “Plenty.” Pushing off of his hands, he brought himself up straight. “I could show you, if you want.” Before she could ask what he meant, he was leaning into her space again, pressing a fingertip to the center of her forehead, “Touch you in here.”
It might’ve been the most brazen offer he’d made so far. The Jedi had always taught her that touching the mind of another sentient was one of the most intimate things one could do; sometimes it was necessary—seemingly more and more so as the war went on—but it was never meant to be done lightly. “Do you do that sort of thing often?”
Another shrug, “Often enough. Some sleemos that hire me want more than I’m willing to give, and won’t take no for an answer. So I~” He made another of that same hand motion. “Just make them think they didn’t get one.”
“That is not the Jedi way!” she blustered, the words out of her mouth again before she could stop them.
He huffed a laugh, a note of bitterness flavoring it. “I am no Jedi.” Anakin was so close that she was enveloped in his faded scent of cologne-covering-motor-oil, and he didn’t back away this time. “Why are you so interested in me?”
Ahsoka didn’t have a handy answer, took a moment to say, “Because you’re helping me.”
His expression was playfully unimpressed. “That’s not why.”
Maybe she didn’t have much tether left to fray, maybe he was just especially frustrating—either way, the words punched out of her before she could stop them. “Because you should have been!” then, less forcefully, “A Jedi, I mean.” She took a deep breath, tried to feel a little more on-balance; it was harder to manage when she actually looked at him. “I’ve never felt anyone like you before,” she tried to explain, “and the things you can do, so easily? You should have been with us.” Ahsoka saw the raise of his brows at the last word, and bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t explain why the idea felt so right now that she had spoken it, but it did. “The Jedi could’ve helped you.”
He looked at her through lowered lashes, “Maybe.” She caught the echo of emotions cascading through him, none lingering long or loud enough for her to decipher, before he tucked his Presence firmly away again. “You could be right,” he allowed finally. “But let me ask—” he caught her gaze then, startling blue eyes so soft and sad, “are they helping you?”
Ahsoka opened her mouth to answer but no words came; her breath hitched, and it was as if the last of her resolve crumbled. In front of her, Anakin began to blur as tears welled in her eyes. The adrenaline that had been keeping her going had run out, everything she had assumed about the shape of her life had become suddenly so uncertain, and she...she was alone.
She didn’t realize she’d begun to sob until Anakin’s arms closed around her, her face pressing into his shoulder as he rubbed a soothing hand up and down her rear lek. “No, no,” he shushed into her montrals, “you’re not alone. Not anymore.”
There was no way for her to tell how long they sat together that way; Anakin didn’t move until the last of her tears fell into his soaked-through shirt. Then he helped her to stand, carefully wiped at her face with his warm hands. “Probably feeling pretty wrung-out now, huh?” he murmured.
Words still seemed just out of reach; Ahsoka nodded.
Anakin returned the gesture before steering her gently toward the couch he’d occupied earlier, waited for her to sink onto it. “I’ll get you a blanket,” he told her then, before heading to a nearby closet, “I always keep plenty of warm ones.” He returned quickly with a cozy-looking blanket, unfolding it and draping it over her before dropping to his knees again. “Once you’re rested up we’ll figure out how to clear your name.”
Wrapped in the soft fabric, the whirlwind of the last few days caught up to her body the way it had already caught up to her mind, exhaustion deep in her bones. Still, the question she’d asked before kept nagging at her. “Why are you doing so much to help me?” To say he was going out of his way seemed an understatement, especially for someone he only knew from the holonet.
“Because it seems like you could use a lot of it.” Then softer, as if he were remembering something, “And the biggest problem in this universe is that no one does.” There was something bare to the words, a sincerity that she had only glimpsed once before in their conversation. And Anakin must have realized it too as he smoothed a hand over the blanket, winking. “Plus I bet it’ll be fun to prove your Council wrong.”
Ahsoka snorted groggily, rolling her eyes.