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He was a Jedi. A General. A Warrior. He wasn’t supposed to break. He wasn’t supposed to already be broken.
But he was. He’d been breaking since Qui-Gon died. And only cracked further still when his mother breathed her last.
The pressure of War never helped the matter.
Some things helped to ease the pain, pulling the cracks back together and sealing them, though he always knew it would never hold long.
Ahsoka’s light, her laughter, her wit… she’d closed gaps for him and helped to shoulder the burden of fighting. For the others, she helped him pull a cover over and pretend they weren’t there.
But when she left the fractures split wide open again, and they were wider, more painful, more aching than he could ever remember.
Padme’s love, loyalty, and smile filled some gashes to the brim. If Ahsoka was the one who laid the cover over his wounds, Padme was the one who wove it from her heart.
But she was painfully aware that her filling would leak out, and the crevices would be empty and aching again, no matter how many times she filled them.
Obi-Wan’s patience, his kindness, and his guidance kept some parts from ever cracking. Padme made the cover, Ahsoka laid it over, and Obi-Wan would make sure it rarely came loose.
But he couldn’t stop the devastation from happening, and in some ways he split the rifts further.
And all of them knew that the cover wouldn’t hold him together when he shattered.
Anakin Skywalker was breaking.
He would deny it fiercely, even though he was the only one who ever dared think about it. The fact that he would argue with his own thoughts at times only further proved how he was crumbling.
I’m not broken.
Yes I am.
I’m strong enough to fix myself.
No I’m not.
I should be.
Yes I should be.
Padme was the only other who dared voice that fear.
“This, all of this, it’s breaking you, Ani.” Her head held high, voice unwavering, face anguished and silent, crystal tears running down her face. “The council’s cold indifference, Ahsoka leaving- No, It started a long time ago, didn’t it? Even before the war.”
Anakin refused to meet her gaze. He stared at the stars instead. Even the starlight seemed frigid now.
“I’m fine.”
She shook her head. One hand clenched into a fist, the other firmly gripping his shoulder.
“No, you’ve long passed that point, haven't you?”
“I’m not broken.” He insisted, a little firmer this time.
Just don’t look too close.