Chapter Text
To say Anakin was on edge would be an understatement. Ahsoka was supposed to have been back a day ago, all she was supposed to do was bring the Bonteri boy back to Coruscant. However, there had been no sign of his padawan, and he was unable to reach her by comm.
He trusted his padawan to take care of herself, she always found her way back to him. But still, he couldn’t help but be worried. He also wasn’t stupid, he knew her better than anyone. He obviously picked up on whatever crush she had on him–personally, he thought she could do much better than some Separatist scum. If he screwed her over, he was going to kill him. Slowly.
In the meantime, he had ignored Obi-Wan’s attempts to calm him down, spending his free time trying to track her down. The older jedi had resorted to avoiding him completely, frustrated with his attitude. However, Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s worry radiating through the Force as well.
That was why when word got out that she had made contact, he sprinted to the control room of the Resolute. Rex was waiting, knowing his general would come bursting in.
“She’s on her way back, she’s alright,” the captain said briskly, relief clear on his face. He adored Ahsoka as much as all the other clones in the 501st did. “She’ll be landing soon.”
Anakin blew out a breath, then nodded his thanks to Rex. The two of them immediately headed for the main hangar.
Soon enough, they spotted Ahsoka’s ship. It wasn’t falling apart, which was a good sign. At least she hadn’t inherited Anakin’s shitty luck with ships.
Ahsoka walked out of the ship as the dock extended, and Anakin was initially relieved that she was okay enough, before he got a closer look.
She was littered in bruises, cuts, and welts that marred her orange skin, also sporting a slight limp. That wasn’t what concerned her master though, that would all be fixed with a night in the bacta tank.
It was the slight slump to her shoulders that concerned him. Even after being battered and bruised on the battlefield, it was uncharacteristic of the young togruta to look so beat down.
Anakin ran up to his padawan, “Hey Snips, are you okay?” He asked hurriedly, scanning her with his eyes as he placed his hands on her shoulders.
He paused in surprise when he got a closer look at her face. She was seething, her blue eyes somehow cold and burning at the same time. The last time she looked like that, they had been freeing her people from the Zygerrians. He could feel it in the Force too, a wall of anger from her hitting him like a slap to the face.
To further his confusion, she shrugged out of his grip, avoiding his eyes. “Fine, Master. I’m just tired,” she said in a clipped tone. She then brushed past him, heading inside the temple.
Anakin glanced at Rex, who was sporting a bewildered expression. The captain looked at him and shrugged, also baffled.
Usually, if something like this happened, Ahsoka was just as anxious to see him, and the two would stick together for a while after. If one of them needed to be patched up, they’d accompany one another to the medbay to hold each other accountable for treatment. It was a silent rule at this point.
What the hell had happened?