Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you’re up for this, Master?” Ahsoka questioned, her blue eyes narrowed at him appraisingly.

Anakin groaned loudly.

“I swear, if anyone else asks me that question, I’m going to lose it,” he growled, crossing his arms as he resisted the urge to bare his teeth.

Ahsoka’s brows rose as she raised her hands in a placating gesture. 

“Geez, Master, I was just asking,” she huffed. “You were in a hoverchair like, two weeks ago. It’s a valid question.”

“I’ve been stuck doing nothing for over a month,” he bemoaned. “And I’m still doing nothing, even now that I’m technically back on duty!”

Anakin was fully aware that he was whining, but his frustration outweighed any sense of shame he might have had in that regard.

“It’s almost like, and hear me out here - you were stabbed,” Ahsoka reminded him.

Anakin flopped down in his seat with a dramatic sigh. 

“Not you too!” He whined. “Kix has been babying me ever since we began this campaign! He even stayed behind on the ship to babysit me!”

Ahsoka simply crossed her arms and stared down at him with an eyebrow raised. 

Anakin opened his mouth to continue his complaining when his comlink began to beep. Glancing down at it, then to Ahsoka, they spared only a moment to exchange an excited look before scrambling out the door and towards the bridge.

Racing through the corridor, vode scurried to clear the path, tugging brothers out of the way of being trampled with wide grins on their faces, calling out greetings as Anakin and Ahsoka ran past.

Anakin maintained a decent lead on Ahsoka, due to his longer legs and greater familiarity with the ship, but he could sense her determination in the Force, her presence singing out with the thrill of the race. 

At the last moment before they reached the doors to the bridge, Anakin performed a sick flip to show off, but also to allow Ahsoka to catch up, a chance which she readily took, breezing past with a yelp of victory.

“WHAT’S THE EMERGENCY!?” She shouted as the doors opened, practically flinging herself down towards the communicator, almost tripping and falling flat on her face while doing so. Anakin was close behind her, smirking slightly at the utterly baffled look on Admiral Yularen’s face as the vode manning the bridge glanced up for a moment before resuming their tasks, seemingly ignoring the loud togruta youngling in their midst.

Anakin knew better, though - he could sense their rapt attention on the two of them, could see the way their auras brightened with intrigue and strengthened where they faced them, as though reaching out to them. 

“Er, General Skywalker, Commander Tano,” Admiral Yularen began, seeming to shake off his confusion with relative ease. “You have a call coming through from General Koon.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka said, deflating slightly, before suddenly brightening back up. “Oh!”

Anakin’s lips twitched with amusement, but he simply nodded to the admiral and turned towards the blinking communicator. 

Clearing his throat, he stood up straighter, his hand raising to answer the call before a flash of panic-green caught his eye, and he turned slightly to see Scatter, an older, yet chronically nervous clone signing frantically to him.

Clothes, Scatter signed. Fix clothes.

Anakin glanced down, and saw that his cloak and tunic were quite rumpled from the race, but otherwise seemed fine. 

Anakin glanced back up to Scatter with a confused frown, tilting his head and signing what’s wrong?

Messy, Scatter signed back. Won’t you get in trouble?

Ah, Anakin thought. Scatter’s previous General - Krell, if Anakin recalled correctly - was very strict. Anakin gave the nervous man a reassuring smile and made a mental note to have one of the Five-Oh-First tell the new vod about the lax rules. 

No, he signed back. Thank you; I am fine.

Scatter relaxed, his aura fading slightly with relief, before turning bright pink with embarrassment and fear.

Appreciate the thought, Anakin quickly signed, and Scatter gave him a weak smile, but still seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Glancing around frantically yet discreetly, Anakin’s eyes met Appo’s, and he gave the experienced ori’vod a wide-eyed look. With a nod, Appo quietly slid away from his position and towards Scatter, his demeanor calm and comforting, and Anakin forced himself to tear his eyes away lest he attract more attention to the obviously upset Scatter. 

The entire interaction took a little less than a minute, and Ahsoka was staring up at him irritatedly, having been paying attention to two vod having a heated debate on the other side of the bridge rather than Scatter for most of it.

“What’s the hold-up?” She growled when she met his gaze, impatience staining her aura.

“I was checking the Force,” he lied, crossing his arms. “Can’t you feel that disturbance?”

Ahsoka closed her eyes, brow furrowing as she tried to reach out into the Force to feel the disturbance Anakin had just made up. While she was doing that, Anakin quickly pressed the ‘accept call’ button.

Ahsoka’s eyes snapped open, her aura curling with brief annoyance before she was distracted by Master Koon’s flickering blue form.

“Koh-to-yah, Master Plo,” she greeted enthusiastically, her annoyance instantly melting away, a smile wide on her face. 

“Koy-to-ya, little ‘soka,” Plo returned, sounding just as enthusiastic despite the vocoder.

“How’s the hunt for the mystery weapon going?” Anakin asked, and next to him, Ahsoka perked up - she had been eager to hear news of it as well, ever since rumors began to float around about its existence.

“We’ve tracked it to the Abregado system,” the Jedi Master informed them. “We need reinforcements.”

The older Jedi tilted his head.

“...But only if you are able, Knight Skywalker,” the Kel Dor added, and while Anakin knew he meant well, he had to resist the urge to groan.

“I am fine,” he said, perhaps a tone harsher than he meant, but the experienced Jedi simply raised his taloned hands slightly in a placating manner, very similar to what Ahsoka had done mere minutes ago. 

“I am fine,” he repeated, more calmly, attempting to release his frustration into the Force. “I am more than capable of providing backup, Master.” 

“I do not doubt your capabilities, young Skywalker,” Master Koon assured him. “I simply do not wish to see you injured again so soon after your release from the healers’ grasp.”

Anakin sucked in a deep breath, exhaling it softly as he nodded.

“I appreciate your concern,” he told the older Master. “Ahsoka and I will come to provide back-up, and if things get physical, I’ll call in someone else.”

Anakin would 100% not be doing that, but Master Koon seemed to believe him and, after a moment of consideration, gave a hesitant nod.

“It would be unwise to delay to wait for other back-up,” the Kel Dor stated, though he didn’t seem terribly enthused about it.

It’s because he doesn’t trust you, a dark voice whispered to him. He doesn’t want your help because he doesn’t believe in you.

Anakin ignored the voice as behind him, Admiral Yularen cleared his throat.

Kriff - he knew he had been forgetting something.

“I’ll have to ask the Council, first,” Anakin said, his enthusiasm sharply plummeting at the thought. “I was given strict orders to protect our staging area.” 

Next to him, Ahsoka seemed to deflate, her unhappiness darkening her aura.

Master Koon seemed to be about to say something, but before he could, the transmission began to flicker.

“Master Plo?” Ahsoka yelped, her eyes widening with worry. “What’s happening?”

“Transmission’s lost, General!” The technician called. “It’s been blocked from their side.”

Anakin and Ahsoka exchanged a glance.

It seemed that perhaps they were getting their desired emergency after all.

Hours passed before they got word that the Council was ready to answer their call.

Straightening his posture, Anakin turned, striding towards the more private holocall area as was procedure for Council calls, Ahsoka practically leaping to her feet to follow despite him warning her that the meeting might be distressing, to which she had argued that she could handle it.

“You heard Master Plo,” Ahsoka said, jogging slightly to keep up with his long strides. “He needs our support, we have to go help him!” 

“We have to see what the Council says, first,” Anakin reminded her, as he had been for the last however long it had been, though he, too, was unhappy at the prospect. “Our position here is vital to the war effort, and as much as I’d love to go help Master Koon, we must listen to the Council.”

“Isn’t Master Koon on the Council?” Ahsoka argued. “Isn’t his word enough?”

Anakin huffed out a long sigh. 

I wish I had answers for you, he thought wearily. I wish things were that simple.

“This is an important meeting, Ahsoka,” he told her instead, trying to make himself sound stern instead of defeated as he told her the words Obi-Wan had told him many times before. “Remember; be mindful, and speak only when spoken to.”

“Don’t I always,” Ahsoka huffed with a roll of her eyes. 

Anakin glanced to the door, hoping to hide his smile - like Master, like Padawan, he figured.

Masters Windu and Yoda were already waiting on the call when they walked in, as were Obi-Wan and the Chancellor - Anakin brightened at the presence of his old friend.

“This mystery weapon has struck in a dozen systems and disappeared without a trace,” Windu began without preamble, his tone and expression as serious as ever.

“We cannot afford to lose any more ships, my friends,” the Chancellor reminded them, his voice soft and remorseful. He turned as Anakin entered, his eyes seeming to light up at the sight of him, and Anakin inwardly keened at the attention.

“Ah! Master Skywalker!” He greeted, a warm smile on his face. “Have you had any success in finding General Grievous's secret weapon?”

Anakin stepped forwards, pulling up a render of the Abregado system for the others to see.

“Master Plo was here in the Abregado system when we lost contact,” he informed them. “We’ve had no further contact with General Koon. The absence of distress beacons indicates that his fleet was…”

Anakin hesitated, glancing down at Ahsoka. 

She insisted on being here, he reminded himself. Besides, she deserves to know.

“...That his fleet was destroyed, like the others,” he finished, watching as Ahsoka’s aura flashed with shock and horror.

His heart ached for her - she was so young and so new to war, he had forgotten that she might not have realized that was even a possibility.

“We are about to prepare a rescue mission,” he said, turning back to the Council. 

“Hasn’t clone intelligence reported that this weapon never leaves any survivors?” The Chancellor asked, and Ahsoka’s eyes widened even further, her aura turning an even greener color. 

“The Separatists are being unusually tidy,” Obi-Wan added. “They don’t want any witnesses.”

Ahsoka looked like she was on the verge of tears, and Anakin wanted so desperately to hide her in his wings and protect her from the horrors of loss. 

“Tragic are these losses, but prevent more we must,” Master Yoda said, grief he tried to hide seeming to age him further.

“All our battle groups will be reassigned to guard our supply convoys, including yours, Skywalker,” Master Windu declared, though grief weighed heavy on his shoulders, too. “I’m afraid we can’t risk any more ships with a rescue mission.”

Anakin blinked, watching as the shoulders of everyone present sagged with grief and regret, but as he did, his vision began to blur.

What? He thought, as time seemed to slow to a grinding halt as a ringing noise pervaded his hearing, drowning out everything else, growing louder and louder until-

Silence. The void of space, the epitome of inhospitality, a final resting ground for a sea of carnage sleeping silently among the stars, abyssal hands gently cupping darkened wreckage illuminated only by the distant light of a red star, floating like ghosts, directionless, adrift in an infinite ocean. A predator, lurking, picking off its prey one-by-one. 

Scenes began to flash before his eyes - a lie-that-wasn’t-a-lie, “I know you trust me”, brothers holding each other as danger drew near, a trick, “I will protect you”, brothers brought back to safety, a chase, minnows fleeing a shark, teeth torn from the gums, a purr in his throat as his heart swelled with love, a leviathan defeated, wide eyes reflecting moonlight-

Anakin jolted, his heart thundering in his chest as he returned to his body, just as Ahsoka jerked forwards.

“Wait!” She cried, desperation heavy in her aura. “Just because there haven’t been any survivors before doesn’t mean there won’t be this time!”

Anakin stared, trying to form a response as the three Jedi Masters all turned to stare at him, awaiting his reaction. His brain, however, was still stuck mulling over the flashes of events not-yet-come-to-pass he had seen. 

“Boldly spoken for one so young,” the Chancellor said, saving him from having to argue with his Padawan while still trying to make his brain realize he had a body.

“She is learning from Anakin,” Obi-Wan added, the tension seeming to meld into something less sharp - Anakin took the opportunity he was given.

“Excuse my Padawan,” he said with greater effort than he allowed to show. Feigned annoyance was thick in his tone, though he was careful not to direct it directly at Ahsoka. “We will deploy as you have instructed, Master.”

Ahsoka began striding away as soon as the communication cut, humiliation and heartache clear in her hunched shoulders.

“Ahsoka-” he began.

“If anyone could have survived, Master Plo could!” She bit out, turning to him with her teeth bared.

“I am aware,” he growled, resisting the instinctual urge to bare his teeth back at her. 

“I don’t understand why-”

“What you don’t understand,” he interrupted her, his patience wearing thin, “-is Jedi protocol, or your place, my young Padawan.”

Before Anakin could explain, the doors slid open, revealing Admiral Yularen.

“Admiral,” he greeted, clearing his throat, sparing one last quelling look at Ahsoka. “We’ll split up our ships to maximize our defense area.”

A lie-that-wasn’t-a-lie.

“I’ll scout ahead for enemy activity,” he quickly added, an idea forming.

“Isn’t that risky, with the mystery weapon out there?” The Admiral questioned, tilting his head with a scrutinizing look. 

“It might be,” Anakin admitted. “But I know you won’t argue with my orders.”

I know you trust me.

Admiral Yularen simply raised his eyebrow, stepping out of his way as Anakin motioned to Ahsoka.

“C’mon, Snips,” he said with a sigh, the young Padawan following sulkily behind him.

They had a vision to fulfill.

“Set those new coordinates, Artoo?” Anakin called to the astromech, who trilled in response. The wide expanse of space stretched out before them, out the viewport of the Twilight, which he had fixed up with Ahsoka’s help after he had been released from the tyrannical clutches of the healers.

It was beautiful, Anakin thought, save for the horrific sight he knew awaited them.

“Master,” Ahsoka began, her voice subdued and full of shame. “I should tell you why I spoke up before.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” Anakin quickly reassured her, cutting himself off near completely from the Force before beginning the jump to hyperspace - he did not want a repeat of what happened on their trip to Tatooine. She blinked at him in confusion, which then turned into frustration, then back into bewilderment as the stars blurred around them. 

She was silent on the short journey through the stars, and Anakin yearned to comfort her, but-

But he didn’t know what to say.

The truth, the Force whispered to him as he opened himself back up to it, albeit not completely.

Anakin blinked, considering it. He was trying to be more honest, and the Force had never led him wrong before…

“I had a vision,” he blurted out, hoping that was the truth the Force was urging him to tell. Ahsoka turned to stare at him, surprise flashing on her face and in her aura before trepidation replaced it.

“...And?” She asked, her voice quiet, nervous. 

“And I saw their fleets destroyed, but-” he was quick to add, “-but I also, er, felt a rescue, for lack of a better word.”

“You… ‘felt’ a rescue?”

“I didn’t see it so much as I… knew it happened? It’s really difficult to explain,” he told her. “I heard Master Koon’s voice saying ‘I will protect you’ to someone, right before I felt the rescue. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but-”

“But he might be out there?” She asked, practically springing out of her seat, seemingly coming to life at the news.

“He might be,” he told her, right as the ship exited hyperspace. Ahsoka blinked up at the red giant star in front of them with shock, her excitement growing as she took in the sight.

“The Abregado system!” She gasped. 

He smirked up at her, smugness warming his chest.

“Huh! So, it’s okay when you don’t follow what the Council says?” She huffed, appreciation and annoyance warring in her aura. 

Anakin rolled his eyes, trying to hide his grin, her joy at being able to help infectious in the Force.

“Doing what the Jedi Council says, that’s one thing,” he told her. “How we go about doing it is another.”

That was one of the first things his mother had taught him, Anakin remembered - the circumstances had changed, Force, he had changed, and yet it still applied. 

He missed her with all of his heart and soul.

“That’s what I’m trying to teach you, my young Padawan,” he added, furiously swallowing down the tears that threatened to claw at his throat.

“So you always meant to come out here for survivors?” Ahsoka questioned, her face etched with something close to awe - Anakin knew that she would be taking this lesson to heart.

Looks like I’ll have to be extra careful when wording my orders from now on, he thought to himself with a smile. 

“Lives are in danger, Ahsoka,” he said. “We can’t just turn our backs on them.”

No matter what anyone else says.

“That’s what I said back in the briefing room!” Ahsoka squawked as she sat back down. 

“I know,” Anakin replied. “But the way you said it was wrong.”

She turned her gaze forwards, seemingly thinking about what he had said.

“Hurry up,” he urged - she would have to delve deeper into his words another time. “Switch on the illuminator.”

“We haven’t got much time before the fleet misses us,” Ahsoka realized, setting her head down to analyze the scanners. 

Staring ahead, Anakin stretched out his senses. He felt the familiar encompassing buzz of the electronic all around him, his blood heating at the sensation, his skin crawling with an energy that seemed to sing within his soul. 

Reaching further, he expected to sense the same thing in the wreckage, only for a deafening silence to meet him.

There was nothing - not even the faintest thrum of residual energy. 

It was dead silent.

Outside of his body, he shivered, the emptiness around him frightening in a whole new way, an instinctual terror that urged him to retract back into his physical form, back where he was nestled inside layers upon layers of electric sensation, like a snail kept safe within its shell.

“The scanners are practically useless,” Ahsoka growled as he blinked open his eyes. “Got anything on the emergency channel, Artoo?”

«Nothing yet,» R2 warbled. 

Anakin breathed in a deep breath, turning to the togruta youngling on his right.

“Now, Ahsoka,” he began. “We might find something you don’t want to find.”

As much as I wish I could protect you from that, I can’t, he added mentally, his heart aching at the thought of the heartbreak she might endure, should they fail to find Master Koon, or worse, find his body.

“I know, Master,” she told him. “But I have to believe.”

 Anakin knew that feeling all too well.

“How do you know Master Plo, anyway?” He asked.

“He’s one of my oldest friends,” she said, her voice quiet, worry a deep gray-green staining her aura. “It was Master Plo Koon who found me and brought me to the Temple where I belonged.”

Anakin looked away, reminded sharply and painfully of Qui-Gon Jinn, and the hole he had left in Obi-Wan and Anakin’s lives.

“Now he’s lost, so I thought maybe I could find him,” Ahsoka added, staring down at her hands.

They were quiet for a long moment, both lost in thought, before R2 broke the silence.

«Looks like you’re in trouble!» He warbled.

“Incoming transmission, Master!” Ahsoka yelped a half-second later, her eyes widening. “Looks like someone noticed we’re gone!”

Before Anakin could even consider not answering the call, Obi-Wan’s small figure appeared on the dashboard, R2’s droid-giggles echoing from the back of the ship.

“Anakin, where are you?” Obi-Wan asked, exasperation practically dripping from his tone. 

“Oh! Hello, Master,” Anakin greeted, eyes darting from left to right as he tried to come up with an excuse. “Uh, we made a quick stop in the Abregado system.”

“A rescue mission, I suppose,” Obi-Wan said, leveling Anakin with A Look. “You had other orders.”

“It was my idea, Master Obi-Wan!” Ahsoka chimed in, quick to throw herself on the metaphorical landmine. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” Obi-Wan hummed, clearly not believing a word she said.

The Jedi Master turned to Anakin. 

“Well,” he began. “Have you found any survivors?”

“No,” Anakin admitted, his shoulders slumping. “You were right - the Separatists don’t want any witnesses.”

“All the more reason for you to rejoin the defensive escorts,” Obi-Wan chided, and as if to accentuate his point, wreckage bathed in red light floated past, visible through the ghostly blue glow of the transmission, stark against the black of space. “We need you, Anakin. You’re going to miss the rendezvous with the fleet if you don’t hurry.”

Anakin exchanged a look with Ahsoka.

“I know, Master,” he finally said, his shoulders slumping. “We’re on our way.”

In her seat, Ahsoka slouched down, a pale haze of shock-silver and darker grief-gray coloring her aura.

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka,” he murmured to her as he began to turn the ship around. 

And yet, as he piloted the Twilight through the wreckage, R2 suddenly began to chirp.

«Wait, wait! I have something!» He exclaimed. 

“What is it, Artoo?” Anakin asked, spinning around to look at him. 

«There’s activity on the emergency channel!»

“Artooie thinks he’s got something on the emergency channel!” Ahsoka guessed.

“Can he trace it?” Anakin asked.

«What do you mean, ‘can he trace it?’ Of course I can kriffing trace it!»

“Let’s get going!” Ahsoka exclaimed, her hope renewed, excitement diffusing into the Force as Anakin steered the ship forwards.

The signal was constant, yet as he piloted, nothing living appeared on their scanners, and the Force was quiet.

“Are we still picking up that signal?” He asked, just to make sure.

“Yes,” Ahsoka confirmed. “But why aren’t we finding anybody?” 

“I don’t know, Ahsoka,” he said, his voice bordering on a growl as frustration for the situation clawed at him. “I don’t know.”

Anakin glared out into space, resisting the urge to bare his teeth at the distant stars. 

“Is there anyone out there?” Ahsoka called through the channel. “This is Ahsoka Tano, can anyone hear me?”

Nothing.

“Is there anyone out there? Come in, this is Ahsoka Tano.”

Nothing.

“Is there anyone out there? Come in.”

Nothing.

“Artoo, see if you can boost the reception,” Ahsoka called, to which the astromech beeped out an affirmation. 

A few more seconds of maddening silence.

“Aurgh!” Ahsoka finally snapped, practically throwing herself back into her chair in frustration.

“Patience,” he reminded her, like a hypocrite. “We’re trying to boost the power. Hang on.”

One second of silence. Two seconds. Three. Four. Five.

The sharp trilling of an incoming call broke the growing quiet, and Anakin cursed, wincing as he answered it, expecting Obi-Wan’s disappointed expression-

Only to see the Chancellor’s worried one.

“Oh- hey, Chancellor!” Anakin greeted, blinking in surprise at the small, flickering figure. 

“What- Uhm, greetings, your Excellence,” Ahsoka stammered. 

“Anakin, I have heard word that you have gone looking for survivors of Master Plo Koon’s fleet,” The Chancellor said, worriedly, sparing only a moment’s glance at Ahsoka.

“Er, that’s correct, Chancellor,” Anakin told him, wincing slightly.

“Anakin, the Council is furious!” The Chancellor informed him, and Anakin’s wince deepened. “Why have you left your post?”

“I decided we couldn’t just give up on Master Plo Koon,” Anakin told him honestly. 

The Chancellor’s eyes softened, understanding etched onto his elderly features.

“A noble gesture, Anakin,” he told him. “But the Council fears your daring may put others in danger.”

Anakin remained silent, sudden doubt churning in his stomach. Were they right? Was he putting others in danger? Surely the fleet could survive a few hours without him… Right?

“Please listen to me, Anakin,” the Chancellor continued when it was clear Anakin had nothing to say. “Return at once.”

“Yes, Excellency,” Anakin agreed, subdued. 

Silence reigned once more.

Five seconds. Ten seconds.

Anakin sighed.

“Time to go, Ahsoka,” he murmured.

“We have to stay!” She exclaimed, her eyes wide. 

“Ahsoka, I want to believe Master Plo’s alive, but I just-”

“I know he’s alive!” Ahsoka cried, her blue eyes blazing. “I can sense it!”

The ship turned suddenly as she seized control, sending R2 sliding across the floor as she gunned it. He knew trying to wrestle control from her would only put them in more danger, so swallowing his anger, he used the Force to shove wreckage out of their way as Ahsoka recklessly and poorly flew them through the wasteland.

Oh, we will be having a talk, later, Anakin growled to himself, gritting his teeth as he kept all his focus on keeping him and his idiot teenage Padawan alive.

Suddenly, just as he was considering using more drastic measures before someone got seriously hurt, the spotlight of the ship illuminated a singular pod adrift the inky sea of stars, two vode and a familiar Kel Dor perched atop it. 

“There they are!” Ahsoka cried.

He blinked, surprised.

“Ready tow cable!” He called, shaking his head, finally able to safely take back control as Ahsoka leapt out of her seat to follow his order.

“Cable loaded, Master,” Ahsoka told him as he maneuvered the ship into position. Then, with a flip of a switch, the pod was quickly towed into the cargo bay of the Twilight, the people atop it falling off with thuds and groans.

“Come on, hurry!” Ahsoka beckoned, and Anakin followed her into the bay. 

“Are you okay, Master Plo?” Ahsoka asked, kneeling by the Kel Dor Master’s side while Anakin hovered over the two vode, scanning them with the Force for injuries. Thankfully, aside from stress and exhaustion, they seemed to be uninjured.

“There’s someone in the pod!” Ahsoka called, and Anakin wasted no time in using the Force to free them. They emerged, coughing and sputtering, and Anakin quickly dove to catch them as they fell, muttering the comforting Mando’a phrases he had learned from Appo to them. 

The vod blinked up at him with squinted eyes, confusion bright in their aura as Anakin helped them sit down.

“Appo?” They coughed, wheezing. “Vod?”

“Cuyir gar Appo’vod?” Anakin asked, trying to recall the names Appo had told him. “Uhhh… Wolffe?” 

The other two vode were watching him, eyes wide with a mix of confusion, intrigue, and nervousness.

“‘Lek,” the vod, Wolffe, answered as the medic droid emerged and approached. 

“Will they be alright?” Anakin asked the droid in Basic as it leaned down to examine Wolffe.

“The pressure suits offer some protection, but they require a medical frigate for recovery,” the droid informed him. “I will stabilize them, sir.”

“Your men are safe now,” Ahsoka told Master Plo.

After another glance to make sure that the other three were situated, Anakin approached and knelt next to the exhausted Jedi Master.

“Tell me,” he wheezed. “Were there any survivors?”

“We… couldn’t find anybody else,” Anakin answered, casting a sorrowful glance back at the three vode, whose auras flashed bright white and gray with pain and grief. Master Plo’s aura, too, darkened with sorrow and guilt.

“The hunters must have destroyed the rest,” Master Plo growled, glancing away.

“I’m sorry, Master Plo,” Ahsoka murmured, embracing the Kel Dor in a tight hug. 

Anakin backed away, turning to the three vode huddled together, their presences tight with grief.

“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la,” he murmured to them. Not gone, merely marching far away.

“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la,” they repeated as one.

Anakin backed away, allowing the brothers time to grieve, his heart aching for them, and for the vode who never made it out, and for the vode who were slaughtered in their lifepods.

Master Plo stood, suddenly, lurching to his feet, jerking his head towards the cockpit. Tilting his head, Anakin led him in, Ahsoka by the Kel Dor’s side.

“We tracked the mystery weapon to this system,” Master Plo informed them. “That is when we found out it was an ion cannon.”

“An ion cannon?” Ahsoka questioned, tilting her head.

“A weapon that neutralizes all power to our ships, leaving the targets defenseless,” the Jedi Master explained.

Before Anakin could respond, the ship’s radar began pinging, revealing a gargantuan ship headed their way.

“There’s a massive vessel approaching,” Anakin growled, resisting his urge to bare his teeth as dread coiled in his gut.

“Shut down the power systems before they detect us!” Plo shouted, rushing forwards to do just that, alarm and something close to fear in his presence.

Working quickly, the three of them disabled every system and power source available to them, leaving Anakin awash in lonely stillness as that familiar electric buzzing beneath his skin abandoned him, all except-

Artoo warbled from behind them just as Anakin spun, diving for R2 as Master Koon cried out “the droid!”

“Sorry, buddy,” Anakin whispered, shutting off his best friend with a wince, returning to his seat just in time to see the enemy ship cruise by, a leviathan on the hunt.

“That is one big cruiser-crusher,” Ahsoka whispered, her eyes wide with awe and fear.

The three of them held their breaths as the ship began to pass overhead, slowing as it did so, the deafening roar of its electronics rattling in Anakin’s skull, making his eyes water.

It’s almost past, he told himself, gritting his teeth together. It’s almost past.

The ion cannon must be screwing with my senses, he thought, trying to even out his breathing as nausea churned in his gut, his entire body feeling like it was being shaken up and down.

The ship finally passed over them completely, and Anakin puffed out a sigh of relief as the all-encompassing thrum began to fade…

Except, why was there still a faint tingle in his head that wasn’t fading? And why did it look like the ship was turning back towards them?

“They’re coming back,” Anakin growled, raising his shields as high and as tight as he could in hopes that would somehow help.

“Are all the systems shut down?” Master Koon questioned, his aura tinged with panic.

“Is there a problem, sir?” The medical droid asked, entering the cockpit.

Are we seriously going to die because of a kriffing medical droid? Anakin wondered as the three of them stared at it with rising horror.

“We forgot to shut off the medical droid!” Ahsoka yelped, spurring them back into action.

“We’ve got to get the power back on, now!” Anakin barked, working as fast as he could to do just that.

“Can I be of assistance?” The droid questioned.

“No thanks,” Anakin said. “Just get in the back and take care of the v- clones.”

The droid said something about programming, but Anakin was too busy trying to save their asses.

“Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here,” he hissed, feeling the enemy ship draw closer and closer with every heartbeat. 

“I know, I know!” Ahsoka cried, her eyes wide with panic as, finally, the ship was up and running, and with a snarl Anakin gunned it, flying at full throttle through the debris field.

With an electronic roar, the leviathan’s eyes snapped to them, and through the sea of debris, it began to give chase.

A pressure appeared behind his eyes, like the jaws of some great beast crushing his skull from the inside out.

“Artoo, program the navi-computer, be ready to get us out of here!” He called, only to be met with silence, save for the ever-growing hum as the pressure began to mount within his skull.

“You forgot, we turned him off!” Ahsoka snapped, and Anakin cursed under his breath as Master Plo raced towards the back.

“Ko-to-yah, droid,” the Jedi Master greeted as R2 began to trill and beep.

“Artoo, program the hyperdrive!” Ahsoka ordered, Anakin focusing all his energy on piloting through the debris while his ion-cannon induced migraine grew more and more unbearable by the second.

«Program the hyperdrive where?!»

“Anywhere!” Anakin snapped. “Hurry!”

The scanner was trilling out loudly in alarm as Ahsoka watched it with wide eyes, but Anakin’s ability to focus was in short supply and sharp demand, his vision beginning to black out at the edges as he fell deeper and deeper into the Force, relying on it to guide him, bleeding out the ever-growing agony into it to little effect.

Almost, almost- 

The word was like a prayer as they raced towards the edge of the debris field, his sight tunnel-visioned as all thought except almost, almost was driven from his head, the fangs of the leviathan lurking just behind, jaws slowly closing shut above their heads and beneath their feet, rows and rows of ion-energy teeth glinting all around them-

“We’re clear!” Ahsoka shouted, and Anakin slammed the hyperspace lever down, only a second too late realizing his mistake as his head collided with the console with a deafening thunk before he was once again floating, formless and nameless in the eternal void of the Force.

Ahsoka’s elation at having escaped lasted all of around one second before the loud thunk! of her Master’s skull hitting the console dulled her enthusiasm.

The cockpit was silent for a moment as both her and Master Plo stared at his clearly unconscious body in mute shock, both completely caught off guard, jaws agape and eyes wide, even if just metaphorically.

“Skywalker,” Master Koon rumbled, breaking the shocked silence, jerking forwards and gently lifting the Knight’s head to lean him back in his seat. Blood dripped from his nose down, staining the front of his tunic, more still pouring from his nostrils.

Ahsoka watched on with wide, worried eyes as the Kel Dor waved a taloned hand in front of her Master’s face, garnering no reaction.

“Is he alright?” Ahsoka squeaked, standing to lean over him. 

“He is unconscious,” Master Plo stated, before turning towards the cargo hold. “Droid!”

The medical droid emerged a moment later, trundling over and scanning Ahsoka’s unresponsive Master.

“He is unconscious,” the droid said.

“We know that!” Ahsoka cried. “Why is he unconscious?”

“What was he doing before he fell unconscious?”

“He was piloting the ship away from the ion cannon, and then we went to hyperspace- oh.”

Master Plo turned to her, raising a brow. 

“‘Oh’?” He repeated, tilting his head.

Ahsoka coughed, hesitating, but figured that telling the Kel Dor would do no harm.

“Back on Teth, when we were taking the Huttlet to Tatooine, I was in the back when we jumped to hyperspace, and when I came back he was unconscious,” she explained. “He tried to play it off, but it was pretty obvious - he even had a bloody nose and everything.”

Ahsoka’s cheeks heated with embarrassment at not having made the connection sooner. But then, why hadn’t he lost consciousness when they jumped earlier? 

“Oh! And when we made the jump to Abregado, he cut himself off from the Force for a few minutes!” Ahsoka recalled.

Master Plo crossed his arms, rubbing his chin contemplatively.

“Interesting,” he said, after a long moment. “I have no answers for you, little ‘soka. Your Master has always had a very unique connection to the Force - only he may be able to provide the answers.”

He turned to the droid.

“He hit his head on the console when he lost consciousness. Perhaps you should check him for a concussion.” 

Ahsoka turned her gaze to the console, once again splattered with nasal blood.

“He left a dent in it!” Ahsoka squawked, analyzing the small divot left behind from her Master’s impromptu sleep-session.

The droid ignored her as it approached her Master, opening his eyes to scan them. 

“The patient has a moderate concussion. I will administer an anti-neural-swelling drug to treat it. He will likely have to see a professional to check for other damages that I cannot detect.” 

“Oh, he’s gonna love that,” Ahsoka huffed. “He only just got free from the healers, now you’re telling him he has to go back?”

Master Plo raised his taloned hands consolingly. 

“I agree that it is unlikely he will be happy,” the Kel Dor Master rumbled. Ahsoka expected him to say more, but the older Jedi simply turned and stared out at the streaking lights of hyperspace, a contemplative air around him. 

Ahsoka fidgeted in place, uncertain as to what to do with herself. Her Master was unconscious, and Master Plo was busy staring out the window. They were in hyperspace, so there wasn’t much for her to do, and she hadn’t brought anything with her by the nature of the mission-

Her restless brooding was interrupted by the door to the cargo hold sliding open, revealing one of the clones they had rescued. He wasn’t wearing any armor, and he was leaning heavily against the doorway. At the sight, the medical droid quickly trundled back over to him, but the clone simply swatted it away with a mildly annoyed expression. 

“Generals, Commander-” the clone paused when he saw Master Skywalker unconscious in his chair. He blinked at the knocked-out Jedi, then at the blood-stained console, then at Ahsoka and Master Plo, a ‘what the kriff’ expression on his face.

“Knight Skywalker unfortunately fell unconscious during the jump to hyperspace,” Master Plo told the clone. “He will be alright, with time.”

Master Plo closed the distance between them and laid a hand on the clone’s shoulder.

“How are you doing, Wolffe?” He questioned, softly.

The clone’s - Wolffe’s - eyes fogged over for a split-second, his presence in the Force flashing with pain and grief, but he straightened up and set his jaw.

“Fine, Sir. Nothing a little bit of R-&-R won’t fix.”

The lie rang loud and clear in the Force, but neither she nor Master Plo felt inclined to call him out on it - the clones would deal with the loss of their comrades in their own ways, on their own time. 

They were resilient like that.

“What was it that you needed?” Master Plo asked, gently, tilting his head slightly.

The clone hesitated.

“It is okay to speak your mind,” the Jedi Master said softly. Wolffe hesitated a moment longer, before-

“Boost, Sinker and I want to help track down and destroy the Separatist weapon,” he finally said, his posture straightening and his eyes hardening with resolve. 

“An honorable notion,” Master Plo told him. “If you are recovered by the time such an event occurs, I will see to it that you are included. However, I will not have you risking yourselves while still injured.”

“Understood, Sir,” Wolffe said, then opened his mouth to continue, only to be interrupted by a low groan. All heads snapped to Master Skywalker as he shielded his eyes against the light of hyperspace, blinking blearily as he regained consciousness.

“Master!” Ahsoka exclaimed, relief, like a blanket, settling over her. “How are you feeling?”

“Eugh,” he complained, squinting up at her as she hovered over him, her arms crossed. “My head is pounding.”

“I’d imagine - you hit your head on the console when you passed out.” She jerked her head towards the new dent and blood spatter decorating the ship’s navigation systems. “...Again.”

“How long have you had this issue?” Master Plo questioned, coming up on his other side, making him jump slightly. Master Plo raised his hands slightly, taking a small step back, and Master Skywalker let out a sniff of embarrassment.

“Er, this is the second time it’s happened. It began on Teth,” he answered, sitting up and rubbing the front of his head with a wince, then paused, realization dawning in his eyes as he turned to face Master Plo.

“I think it has to do with the- er- the- the thing,” her Master began, squinting as he tried to recall whatever word it was he had forgotten. “You know- the thing, the thing that happened after I got blown up, oh, what was it called…”

Ahsoka’s Master growled to himself, making hand motions that meant nothing to her or, judging by the blank stares of the other two, anybody else for that matter. 

He let out a huff of frustration, carding his hand through his hair, then placing his head in his hands.

“Hypercoma!” He exclaimed suddenly, his head snapping up. “It began after the hypercoma.”

“Ah,” Master Plo said, relaxing slightly. “I recall hearing a report about that.”

Master Skywalker nodded, then winced, rubbing his head again. 

“It’s possible that your near-death experience allowed you greater commune with the Force,” the older Jedi said with a hum, rubbing his chin in thought. “Such a thing has happened in the past, albeit rarely.”

Ahsoka shared a brief glance with her Master, one that thankfully went unnoticed by the Kel Dor, deep in thought as he was. 

They both knew that his ‘commune with the Force’ was far more complicated than anyone else realized.

Luckily, the slightly awkward tension broke as proximity alerts began trilling, alerting them that they were about to drop from hyperspace. With a relieved air about him, Master Skywalker turned and began flipping various switches and levers in preparation for the drop, and Ahsoka plunked into the copilot’s chair, buckling herself in. 

“Need any help, Generals?” Wolffe questioned, and Ahsoka jumped - she had forgotten he was there. 

Her Master craned his neck backwards to face the clone, his eyes soft and friendly like they always were when he was talking to the clones, in a way they never were when he was talking to any other Jedi. 

“No, thanks, Wolffe. We’ve got this,” he told the clone - how he knew his name, Ahsoka wasn’t entirely sure. “You should go tell your brothers to strap in, though - you never know what we might fly into.”

Strangely, Wolffe smiled, nodding without bothering to salute as he hurried into the back, the clone seeming far more at ease with Master Skywalker than he had been with his own General.

“Wolffe seems to like you,” Master Plo commented as the doors to the cargo bay slid shut, casting an inquiring look at Master Skywalker, who simply shrugged, seeming a little awkward. 

“I know his batchmate well,” he said, scanning the console in front of him.

“Batchmate?” Ahsoka questioned. The word was strange, unfamiliar to her.

“They were decanted at the same time and were raised as a group,” he explained, which only partially cleared things up for her.

“You know the Clans at the creche? It’s kinda like that,” he clarified upon catching sight of her confused expression.

“Ohhh,” Ahsoka exclaimed. “Like me and my friend Barriss? We went to the same classes and trained together and stuff, so we’re closer than we would be with other Padawans that were raised in different clans?”

“Exactly,” her Master said, nodding. “Except they're even closer than that.”

Ahsoka pondered on that as they dropped out of hyperspace into - thankfully - clear skies. Barriss was her good friend, her best friend, and it was difficult for her to imagine somehow being even closer to the Mirialan Padawan. 

What would that be like? She wondered, casting a glance over her shoulder at the closed cargo door, her Master contacting the Jedi Cruiser for docking clearance. 

The clones were always up in each other’s business, sharing their spaces and jostling each other around - Ahsoka couldn’t imagine her and Barriss ever doing anything like that, not with how mild-mannered her friend was. 

Would I even want that? She wondered, tilting her head in thought. She liked how things were with Barriss, liked having her own space and her own business, but…

But she couldn’t help but think that it maybe sounded nice.

Just a little.

A nudge in the Force broke her out of her thoughts just as the ship landed in the hangar, setting down with a slight shudder.

She turned to peer at her Master, tilting her head.

“Well,” he said with an exaggerated wince that Ahsoka suspected had nothing to do with the headache he surely had. 

“It’s time to face the music.”

“Thanks for getting us out in one piece, General Skywalker,” Wolffe said as they strode down the ramp, arms nearly brushing as Appo’s vod stared at him with dark eyes filled with gratitude. 

Anakin bit down a purr as he smiled back, blinking at him in a friendly manner.

“You have my Padawan to thank for that,” Anakin said, jerking his head to Ahsoka, the Padawan kneeling in front of R2 and patting his dome. “She always said you guys would pull through.”

Ahsoka turned, having obviously been listening, beaming at the praise, her aura turning golden with pride and happiness.

“General Plo said someone would come for us,” Wolffe said, and Anakin noted how he used the Kel Dor Master’s first name - they were close, then, he deduced with a grin. “We’re glad he was right.”

Master Plo emerged from the ship, tilting his head to them as he neared.

“Skywalker,” he began. “It is time to give our report to the council.” 

Anakin winced at the reminder.

“...Right,” he said. “...The Council report.”

Anakin began to trail after the older Jedi, but stopped upon noticing the lack of a certain Padawan at his side. Turning, he saw her staring at him with wistful eyes, still standing next to Wolffe and R2. 

“C’mon, Ahsoka,” he beckoned, waving his hand to gesture for her to hurry along.

“You want me there?” She squeaked, her eyes widening in surprise. “I figured, because of before…”

Anakin broke away from Master Plo to reach her side, staring down at her with slowly blinking eyes.

“Ahsoka, through it all, you never gave up,” he began, watching as she perked up and tentatively slow-blinked back up at him. “You did a great job.”

Anakin basked in the moment for a second longer before continuing.

“...But, if I’m getting in trouble for this, you’re gonna share some of the blame, too,” he finished, grinning at her without showing his teeth. “So come on, let’s go.”

Oddly enough, she didn’t seem upset at the prospect, her eyes bright and her aura a steady glow of joy.

“Right beside you, SkyGuy,” she said, head high as she trailed behind him, the two of them marching towards a certain scolding.

Chapter Text

“This strike force has been commissioned by the Senate to hunt down the enemy’s new battleship.”

Admiral Yularen’s voice was steady, his cerulean eyes hard with determination yet calm and thoughtful as he gazed at the vode sat in front of him. His aura, Anakin thought from where he stood off to the side, was very much the same - steady yet ready.

“As the bulk of our fleets are engaged on the front lines, we’ll be on our own,” the man continued, then turned to Anakin. “General Skywalker has prepared our attack strategy.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Anakin began, steeling himself as he straightened his posture, gazing into the expecting eyes of the men he was tasked to lead and protect. “While our capital ships are vulnerable to the enemy’s attack, I believe a squad of bombers can outmaneuver their ion weapon.” 

Anakin gestured to the model of the ship R2 was projecting. 

“Our target will be the bridge… and General Grievous.”

At his words, the vode began muttering to one another, nervousness and excitement warring in their auras, a swirling mess of greens and yellows.

“Our bombers will attack at high speed to avoid the enemy’s ion weapon,” he continued after allowing another moment of murmuring, warmth blooming in his chest at the way all eyes snapped back to him the moment he resumed speaking, respect and interest in what he had to say coloring their auras. “We’ll concentrate our firepower on the bridge superstructure, here.” 

Anakin pointed to the superstructure in question. 

“We destroy General Grievous, and the ship will fall with him,” Anakin finished, narrowing his eyes at the model, his gums thrumming with venom at the thought. “Any questions?”

“Just tell us where that metal-head is, Sir!” One of the vode called eagerly as they stood, their eyes alight with battle-readiness, their words met with a flurry of shouts of agreement from the others. 

“Yeah! We’ve been waiting for a chance to take him out,” another vod growled, standing as well, their aura glowing steadfast with determination.

Anakin grinned as the eager crowd clamored, shaking his head as he swallowed down a purr. 

“All right, men, settle down,” he called after allowing them another moment. 

They calmed slightly, settling back into their seats and into an excited quiet.

“This is an important mission,” he told them. “We destroy Grievous, we can bring the war to a quicker end.”

Anakin’s heart soared at the thought, and he could see in the eyes and in the auras of the men that they felt the same.

“Pilots, prepare your bombers,” he finished, nodding his head to dismiss them.

Anakin watched as half the group stood, their buy'ce tucked under their arms as they hurried to prepare. 

I just hope I’ll be able to bring them all back alive.

“Skywalker,” a familiar vocoded voice called, snapping him out of his suddenly dark thoughts. “This is an aggressive plan. Are you sure your squadron can complete the mission?”

Anakin turned to see Master Plo, Ahsoka by his side.

“Let’s ask them,” Anakin suggested, lips twitching in predictive amusement as he quickly scanned the crowd. The 501st was always clamoring for a fight - there was a reason Anakin got along with them so well.

“Matchstick!” He called, finally catching sight of his most senior pilot. The man turned, tilting his head at him questioningly, his eyes catching and narrowing on Master Plo and Ahsoka in wariness. “You think our boys can pull it off?”

As if flicking a switch, Matchstick’s eyes snapped back to Anakin’s, the man puffing up as his aura swelled with pride. 

“Yes, Sir!” He answered, jutting his chin out. “There hasn’t been a mission Shadow Squadron couldn’t complete!”

“That’s right!” Broadside added. “Minimal casualties, maximum effectiveness - that’s us.”

“I admire your confidence, pilot,” Master Plo said, before turning back to Anakin. “Even so, minimal casualties may be enough to prevent you from breaking Grievous’ defenses.”

Anakin felt the vode bristle, taking the Kel Dor Master’s words as a challenge, and he winced internally. 

“Master Plo is right,” Ahsoka agreed, and Anakin’s internal wince deepened as betrayal and hurt colored the auras of a few of the vode. “With Grievous on that ship’s bridge, it’s bound to be well-protected.” 

Anakin knew that - of course he knew that, but he didn’t see anyone else offering up any solutions, and it wasn’t as if they could simply leave the problem alone, seeing as it continued to wreak havoc as they spoke.

“Don’t worry, Ahsoka,” he tried to soothe. “We’ll destroy that bridge, and Grievous along with it.”

Turning, Anakin quickly strode off, hoping to soothe the ruffled feathers of the vode before any potential resentment could kick in. 

Before he could get very far, however, an arm grazing his halted him, and he turned to see Rex’s amused brown eyes staring into his.

“The Commander ruffle some feathers again?” The Captain asked, amusement coloring his aura.

“How’d you know?” Anakin huffed good-naturedly.

“I was listening in,” he explained. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it - Kix wanted to see you for… the project.” Rex’s eyes darted to the left, and Anakin resisted the urge to roll his. The man was so comically bad at keeping secrets, it baffled Anakin how nobody else seemed to notice.

Maybe it’s because I know him so well, Anakin thought as he nodded to Rex in thanks. 

The man seemed hesitant. 

“General, are you sure it’s a good idea to practice when there’s a Jedi around?” He questioned, concerned.

Anakin raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m a Jedi,” he reminded him, unsure how to feel about the fact that Rex had forgotten that. On one hand, Anakin reckoned it meant that Rex saw him as one of them, which was… 

Heart-warming. Eye-watering. Exhilarating. Everything he’d ever wanted.

Overwhelming.

On the other hand, Anakin had to fight tooth and nail what felt like every day to prove he was a Jedi to the Jedi themselves, and for Rex to forget that he was a Jedi… it admittedly stung.

The man’s eyes widened, and Anakin realized that he had pulled away.

“No- Sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean it like that-” Rex’s aura was fluctuating between embarrassment pink and guilt gray-green, his expression apologetic. 

“It’s alright,” Anakin said, though hurt still lingered in his chest. “I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

Didn’t he? That familiar dark voice asked. Nobody sees you as a true Jedi, not even Rex. You’ll never be one of them, not even in the eyes of your very own captain.

Anakin turned away. 

“I should find Kix,” he said, awkwardness permeating the air between them. “I want to be able to fly soon, and the more I practice the quicker I’ll be able to.”

“He’s where he usually is,” Rex informed him, his tone still apologetic.

“Thanks,” Anakin said, hurrying away, guilt building in his chest. 

He knew Rex hadn’t meant to upset him, he really did, but the man’s words had struck at a bone-deep insecurity, like a drill hitting the nerve of a tooth, and shame flooded him at how much Rex’s words had bothered him. He wasn’t some little kid anymore, getting upset at the other Padawans teasing him for not being ‘Jedi enough’, he was a full-grown General of the GAR, for Force’s sake! 

Ultimately, whether people thought he was a Jedi or not shouldn’t matter, he tried to tell himself, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. 

Hurrying through the halls, he forced a few grins at the vode who smiled at him as he passed, their auras brightening at the sight of him - that, at least, served to lift his spirits a little bit, and as he continued, he found his returned greetings becoming more and more genuine, and by the time he reached the small, private gymnasium where Kix was waiting, his mood had lightened, though hurt still lingered in his chest.

“General,” Kix greeted, nodding as Anakin entered, locking the door behind them. 

As he began to warm up with a light jog, his thoughts wandered, straying to memories. He had begun his flight training while recovering from-

A red blade, piercing through his chest, he could feel the way his muscles and tendons fried as the burning plasma tore through them, could feel the skin peel away from the blistering heat, could feel fat and tissue bubble until he felt nothing at all.

-recovering from The Attack.

It had begun very slowly, with Kix teaching him wing anatomy (who knew there were so many types of feathers?) and flight dynamics (which he thought he already knew, but it turned out there was quite the difference between the aerodynamics of a podracer or starship and the aerodynamics of a person with wings). At the very least, it had kept him busy while he had been bed-bound and, later on, hoverchair-bound.

Only once he was out of that cursed hoverchair did Kix have him begin exercising his flight muscles, apparently having read that baby birds practiced flapping their wings in their nest for weeks, sometimes, and coming to the conclusion that Anakin needed to practice, too. And so, that was what Anakin had been doing - in the little snatches of time he and Kix could find, they’d meet somewhere private and practice flapping his wings as hard as he could for however long Kix called for. It seemed to be paying off, too - Anakin had noticed a considerable increase in the ease in which he moved his wings, and each session he was able to flap a bit harder for a bit longer.

“Same old, same old?” Anakin asked, snapping out of his thoughts as Kix signaled that the warm-up was complete. 

The medic nodded.

“Thirty seconds to start us off with,” he said, pulling out a syringe - they had discovered early on that a shot of strong, localized painkillers made the emergence and disappearance process of the wings far easier, and so Anakin quickly shrugged off his tunic and undershirt, turning his back to Kix. He hardly even winced as the needle pierced the skin, liquid numbness spreading out from the site mere moments later.

“You’re good,” Kix informed him after another half-minute or so, and Anakin took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he built up his shields in the Force before willing his wings to re-emerge. 

With the painkiller, it was a far less agonizing process, a simple unpleasant pressure replacing the usual vision-whiting pain. As they emerged, that pressure turned to an all-encompassing, bone-deep ache, and Anakin let out a low groan as he leaned against Kix, the man’s presence comforting and familiar in the face of the assaulting pressure-pain-ache Anakin was experiencing.

That was his least favorite part about the wings, he thought - having to bear the pain of bringing them out and putting them back again and again, though he supposed the secrecy that such an ability allowed was ultimately worth it.

Panting and blinking rapidly, Anakin swallowed as the last of the ache passed, leaving the two of them standing in the middle of the gymnasium, Kix partially supporting him.

“Thanks,” Anakin grunted, peeling away as he spread his wings. It always felt nice to stretch them out, to feel the way his back muscles shifted slightly as his feathers fluffed with the pleasant sensation before settling as he pulled the extra limbs back to his sides, warm and soft against his skin.

He breathed in deep as Kix reset the timer on his communicator.

“Ready?” The medic asked, to which Anakin nodded, backing away to a safe distance. “30 seconds starts… now!”

Pulling his wings back, Anakin summoned all his strength to thrust them forwards, fighting both the resistance of the air and the force of the thrust that threatened to send him sprawling on his ass if he didn’t keep his balance. Kix, despite his distance, squinted and ducked his head slightly against the sharp gust of air created by the strong flap, and lifted his hand to shield his eyes as the flapping continued. 

Anakin focused on his breathing, sweat beading on his head and back as he continued, drawing lightly on the Force to keep his strength up. 

Even after the weeks of training he had done, it was still difficult to keep it up, especially when he was purposefully trying to exert himself - the sooner he built up his strength, the sooner he’d actually be able to fly, though at the rate training was going, he feared it may be months before he’d be able to actually fly on his own. 

Despairing at the thought, Anakin focused on flapping his wings even harder, all the while wondering how in the galaxy he was meant to theoretically keep himself adrift with them. He was in a body that was very much not meant to fly, and yet the Force had seen fit to gift him wings, not once, but twice.

“Time!” Kix called. “30 second rest, starting now.”

Surely he was meant to be able to fly, right? The idea felt right, deep in his gut and in his hindbrain, and yet practically every law of physics and human anatomy said it wasn’t possible, that humans didn’t have the correct skeletal structure, or digestive system, or respiratory system, or neurological capabilities to be able to fly. 

Anakin supposed he could only hope that his wings were magic, and that the Force would make up for every feature required for flight that he lacked. Considering, well, everything else about him, Anakin thought that his hopes weren’t too far fetched.

Anakin’s thoughts were rudely interrupted by Kix chucking a water bottle at his face, which Anakin just barely managed to catch with the Force before it hit his face.

Kix raised a brow at him.

“Hydrate,” the medic ordered. “Also, I saw you almost fail to catch that.”

Kix stared at him questioningly - Anakin knew the man well enough to know that his statement had been a question.

What’s on your mind? Tell me what’s bothering you.

Anakin chewed on his lip, sucking in a deep breath.

“Just… wondering if I’ll ever be able to fly,” Anakin responded honestly, blinking rapidly as he shifted from foot to foot, feathers twitching as they shifted to a more nervous hue. 

Kix huffed. 

“You’ve only been training for a few weeks,” the man reminded him. “Patience, General.”

Anakin rolled his eyes with a snort, spreading his wings slightly as they faded to a very faint orange. 

“I know,” he groaned, then paused, hesitating. 

“You also came in in a bad mood,” Kix continued after a long moment of silence, his sharp eyes narrowed and still probing. 

Anakin wanted to hate the medic for how good he was at digging, but if he was being honest with himself, it only made him more fond of him. 

Anakin let out a deep sigh, wings drooping. 

“It’s just- it’s just something Rex said,” he admitted. “It… struck a nerve. Hit me where it hurts, you know?”

Kix’s eyes narrowed further, glinting in the overhead gymnasium lighting, and Anakin raised an arm and a wing to stop him from whatever he was about to say.

“On accident!” Anakin quickly added, before Kix could go hunt down and scold the poor captain. “It was completely an accident, and he apologized for it, but it still… hurt.”

“What he’d say?” Kix growled, crossing his arms, still clearly displeased with his brother’s perceived slight against him. 

Anakin hesitated again, and Kix’s eyes somehow narrowed even further.

“He asked me if it was safe to train when there were Jedi around,” he finally explained, gaze dropping to his feet as embarrassment heated his cheeks at the memory of how deeply such a simple misunderstanding had affected him. “And… it’s hard to explain. My relationship with the Jedi is… complicated, and I’ve always struggled to fit in and be seen as one of them. So when Rex forgot I was a Jedi, I kinda… I kinda freaked out.”

Anakin licked his lips, casting his gaze to the side, shame burbling in his chest at how stupid the whole situation was. 

“I should probably apologize for reacting so badly,” he added, finally shifting his gaze back to Kix, only to be surprised by the warm understanding in the man’s eyes. 

“If anyone understands your reactions, it would be Rex,” the medic reassured, then slow-blinked at him, though the motion was clearly forced and odd-looking. Still, Anakin appreciated the thought, and slow-blinked back at him, wings turning a mix of pale fondness-pink and dark thankful-pink. 

“I’m still gonna apologize and explain why I reacted like that,” Anakin added. “I sorta stormed off without any real explanation.”

Kix nodded. 

“That’s probably a good idea,” he agreed, then tilted his head, his gaze softening imperceptibly, though his expression remained virtually unchanged. “Do you want to talk about it? Further, I mean?”

Anakin sucked in a breath, nibbling on the inside of his cheek as he considered it. 

Did he want to talk about it? Not really. 

Should he talk about it? …Well, Padmé and Obi-Wan were always saying he needed to be more open about what he was going through, and he guessed this counted. Plus, this was Kix, one of his closest friends, and someone who he knew wouldn’t judge or pity him.

“I… I guess it all started when I was first taken to the Temple,” Anakin began, slowly, hesitatingly. “I was admitted late, far later than anyone else. I was nine, and usually the Temple took in initiates that were four or younger.”

Kix nodded, gesturing to the floor.

“I was only barely allowed in,” Anakin continued as he sat, Kix doing the same across from him. “The Council - they said I had too much fear, too much anger, and too much attachment.”

Kix blinked at him, face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Weren’t you nine?” Kix questioned. “And also a slave? Obviously you’re gonna feel like that.”

It felt like a punch to the gut, in the best possible way, to hear someone say that aloud, Anakin thought. If he had not already been sitting, he thought he might have fallen down with the sheer force of the relief and vindication at hearing that - relief, for he had spent so long doubting himself for feeling the way he did, and to know someone else thought the same took a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t even known he had been carrying; and vindication, for now he had proof that he wasn’t alone in his thoughts, that he was right for being upset. 

Well, he supposed the Chancellor had told him something similar, but this was Kix, one of his best friends, someone closer to his age and position. 

“General?” Kix asked, and Anakin realized he had been staring, eyes watery and unspeaking at him. 

Anakin shook his head.

“Yes, sorry. It’s, uh, it’s just that- it means a lot that you said that. I… I spent a long, long time thinking it, but no-one else seemed to have a problem with it, so I guess I kinda just… accepted it.” He shook his head again. “But to hear you say it aloud… I don’t know, it just kinda made me feel…”

“Validated?” Kix suggested.

“Yes.”

“Understandable.”

“And then- and then, I was so behind in every subject, because of my background, that I was put in all the little kid classes, which certainly didn’t help with me fitting in!” Anakin continued. “I couldn’t read or write or anything, and of course all the other Padawans teased me for that, and for coming in so late, and for being so attached to my mom, and for being a slave!” 

“That’s messed up,” Kix agreed, a growl in his voice. 

“And I couldn’t even talk about my mom or my past without being scolded for not ‘letting go’ by one of the other Jedi! And whenever I tried to tell someone about the teasing, they’d just tell me to release my feelings into the Force and be the better person!” Anakin was sure he had a wild look in his eye as he finally got to rant about his old hurts, but Kix seemed just as irate as he did, shaking his head and scowling as Anakin spoke.

“Unbelievable,” he said, protective anger in his eyes. 

“And also, the other Padawans would say that I wasn’t Jedi enough to be at the Temple, that I was too weird and too old and too attached! They said I was a ‘slave to my emotions’ and then I got in trouble for getting upset at that!”

“No they did not!” Kix barked, furious on his behalf. 

“They did! And the worst of it was when Obi-Wan’s best friend’s Padawan started making up rumors and lies about me to everyone else, and Obi-Wan believed him over me! I’m pretty sure everyone still believes most of the osik he said even after all these years, all because that bastard was more popular and well-liked than me!”

“That’s- I’m beyond words!” Kix snarled, reaching out and grabbing Anakin’s hand in his own. Anakin let him - it felt right, in the moment, and Kix was so rarely tactile that it felt special that he was doing so now.

“You never should have had to go through any of that, General,” Kix reassured him, voice gentler as he stared directly into Anakin’s eyes, fierce and protective but also understanding, and Anakin felt his eyes water as sheer emotion began to flood him. 

“I’ve been waiting to hear those words for my entire life,” he admitted in a whisper, lip wobbling as he tried desperately to hold back his tears. “That I… That I didn’t deserve that.”

“Of course you didn’t deserve that,” Kix assured him, his gaze and tone far softer. “You deserved far better.”

Kix seemed to notice that their hands were still intertwined and pulled his away with a wince, his aura pink with embarrassment. Anakin let him, but couldn’t help but miss the contact.

The silence was thick and heavy, but not oppressive, and as it settled around them the awkwardness was minimal. Still, it was with a full-body shake that Kix stood, offering his hand to help him up, to which Anakin gratefully accepted.

“Well, today didn’t go… quite as planned,” the medic huffed good-naturedly. 

Anakin shrugged. 

“It was, well, it was nice, talking about everything,” Anakin admitted. “I feel… better. Lighter.”

Kix smiled at him - it was one of his usual smiles, in that it was quite unusual: tight, and thin, and if someone didn’t know him it would probably look forced, but Anakin recognized it as genuine, and he smiled back. 

“Good,” the medic said. “Now, go get some rest - I know you’ve been staying up to help plan the attack.”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but Kix cut him off.

“Ah-ah-ah! No buts! We can spare you for a few hours while you catch up on some sleep,” the man told him, crossing his arms, his voice stern. “That’s a medic’s order, General. No arguing.”

Anakin rolled his eyes with a huff, though he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, his wings amusement-yellow.

“So bossy,” he teased, batting at Kix with his wing, before sighing. “I should probably put these away, then.”

Kix hesitated, then narrowed his eyes.

“Better idea,” he said, and Anakin squinted at him. It wasn’t often Kix had ideas, and it was about a 50-50 chance that they were good, which was still a significantly higher chance than his batchmate, but still.

“I’m listening,” Anakin said.

“How about you sleep with your door locked… with your wings out?” 

Anakin blinked at him. 

“And what if there’s an emergency?” He asked after it was clear Kix was serious. 

“Then you dissolve your wings and join in a few moments later than you would have. I highly doubt there will be anything like that, however. And besides, we have Master Koon on board, too.”

Anakin couldn’t argue with that. Besides, sleeping with his wings out sounded fun, since it’d practically be the first time he’d done such a thing (passing out in a closet after Reawakening hardly counted), and the idea sent a shiver of thrill down his spine. It felt rebellious and sneaky, even though he wasn’t really doing anything he wasn’t supposed to, and he couldn’t deny the excitement that rose in his chest at the thought.

“Alright,” he agreed. “But how am I gonna get to my room without getting caught, oh bringer of great ideas?”

Kix narrowed his eyes in thought, then looked up. 

Anakin followed his line of sight-

Right to an air vent.

I should have known, Anakin thought to himself, his wings turning a vivid amusement yellow as he tried to contain his laughter. After the whole Temple incident, I really should have known.

Getting up there was a whole other hassle, but with a bit of Force trickery, they managed it. 

At least this vent is big enough to actually fit me, Anakin mused to himself, his wings yellowing further. 

Scuttling along like rats, they awkwardly maneuvered and clumsily dragged themselves through the vents, gathering dust on their clothes (and in Anakin’s case, on his feathers as well) until finally, they reached his room, and Anakin used the Force to undo the vent cover, carefully cushioning Kix’s drop down before following suit. He dropped down with a grunt, splaying his wings instinctively for balance, the golden feathers along his wing tips brushing against the walls. His quarters were only just big enough to fit his wings, and he folded them against his sides to avoid smacking into Kix as he turned around to face the man.

“Sorry for the mess,” Anakin grunted, glancing sheepishly at the various half-built parts scattered around the room. “I’m, uh, not used to guests.”

As he moved to quickly shuffle the parts into piles, Kix stood silently, looking around in a way that, at first glance, appeared completely casual and almost disinterested. The illusion was ruined, however, by the bright curious hue of his aura, and by the way his Force presence was buzzing with intrigue. Anakin hid his smile as he swept up the rest of the clutter against the wall, his wings paling with amusement. 

“What’s so funny?” Kix grunted, eyes narrowing as his aura turned suspicious gray.

“Nothing,” Anakin tried to say, but couldn't help the grin that split his face. 

Kix practically pouted, letting out a sniff of derision as he sulked over to inspect a half-assembled mouse droid.

“I've been working on producing an upgraded model,” Anakin explained. “The current ones get jammed much too easily, poor things.” 

As he spoke, he noticed Kix subtly tugging at the sleeves of his blacks subconsciously, only to seemingly notice and stop himself. Blinking, Anakin tilted his head, focusing on Kix’s hands, which were damp with sweat. Glancing up at the medic’s face revealed the moisture gathering in beads along his forehead and neck, and the way he had switched to mouth-breathing. 

“General?” Kix implored, catching Anakin’s gaze, his aura showcasing his confusion. 

“Hmm?” Anakin absent-mindedly acknowledged, tilting his head the other way. Was Kix sick? Stressed? Surely his aura or Force presence would show that, wouldn’t it? 

“You are… looking at me a bit oddly, Sir,” Kix said. “And your pupils kinda went real big for a moment there.”

Anakin blinked again, startled. 

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, his wings flushing pink with embarrassment. “It’s just… are you feeling alright? You’re sweating a lot.”

Kix stared at him for a moment, before snorting out a laugh, his aura a startled green-yellow. 

“It’s a kriffing desert in here, General,” he huffed. “Of course I’m sweating.”

Anakin’s wings turned a deeper shade of pink. 

Turning around, Anakin scrambled for the climate controls, trying to will his wings to a more muted shade to little avail. Though Kix was silent, Anakin could feel the man laughing at him.

“It’s not funny,” Anakin snapped, turning around with his arms crossed, though he slow-blinked at Kix to show that he wasn’t actually upset. “I thought you were sick or something!” 

Kix nodded as though agreeing, but Anakin could still see the amusement coloring his aura. 

“You’re the worst,” Anakin huffed. “I’m going to bed.”

“Uh, not without cleaning those wings you’re not!” Kix scolded, and Anakin resisted the urge to groan. 

“Not this again!” He complained, ducking past Kix as the man pulled out a feather comb from who-knows-where. “You’ve been scolding me about this for weeks.”

“It’s almost as if it’s important!” Kix said, adding a fake gasp for effect. “Shocking, I know. Now, you are going to go in there and clean those wings.”

Anakin pouted at him, but Kix simply just tossed the brush at him. 

Letting out a dramatic sigh, Anakin trudged over to his refresher.

“And brush your teeth while you’re at it!”

“What are you, my boyfriend?!” Anakin called back, scowling.

“Uh-” Ahsoka’s voice suddenly called.

Panicking, Anakin turned and slammed the refresher doors shut - he did NOT want his under-age Padawan seeing him shirtless. Sure, she had seen him with the bandages on, but that had been different.

“Ahsoka!” He squeaked. “I- Uh- Not right now!”

“He’s shirtless,” Kix explained. “And he needs to shower.”

Ahsoka was silent for a long moment.

“We’re not dating!” Anakin yelled to her through the door. “Or- or kissing or whatever else you’re thinking!” 

“Sure,” Ahsoka said, sounding anything but convinced.

Kix’s confusion echoed loudly within the Force.

“What did you want, you menace?” Anakin huffed, wrapping his wings around himself to protect against the cold ‘fresher air. 

“I needed help with my classwork, but apparently you two are busy,” she drawled. 

“Go ask Rex for help! I’m being bullied into taking a shower!” Anakin told her. 

Ahsoka was silent for another long moment.

“Not like that!” He yelled.

Ahsoka laughed at him, the sound fading as her Force presence travelled out of the room and back down the hall. 

“What was that about?” Kix called through the door after she left. 

“She thinks we’re in a polycule or something,” Anakin huffed, beginning to undress. 

“A polycule? With who?” 

“Rex, Jesse, and Appo. I asked Rex if he remembered the closet incident to see if he was being controlled by Ventrice and she leapt to conclusions.” 

“...With all due respect, Sir, gross.”

Anakin barked out a laugh.

“Those are my brothers,” Kix added. “Besides, I don’t think a certain senator would take too kindly to having to share…”

“Yeah, Naboo has strong opinions about monogamy,” Anakin told him. “For monarchs or nobles or whatever, anyway. On Tatooine that sort of thing was the exception, since the freeborn usually had a bunch of suitors and the slaves were constantly being sold off-world and all that. Besides, why should love and sex and stuff be limited to just one person? There’s plenty to go around.” 

“Interesting,” Kix replied, and though his tone was somewhat flat, Anakin could sense that he was genuinely intrigued. “So, what did you and the senator decide on?” 

“First of all, I have no idea who or what you’re talking about,” Anakin began. “Second of all, monogamy. It was important to her and she’s the only one I’m interested in so it worked out.”

Kix snorted. 

“Take your shower, di'kut,” he said.

Anakin rolled his eyes.

With friends like these…

Chapter Text

The hanger held an electric energy, anticipation hovering like stormclouds over the men as they bustled to and fro, making the final preparations before battle, insects swarming over the yellow starships like flies to a juicy carcass or bees to a flowering shrub. 

“Which one’s mine?” Ahsoka asked, excitement turning her aura a bright yellow. 

“You’re with me,” Anakin tried to gently explain, knowing the disappointment of not being allowed to pilot all-too-well. "You’ll be my gunner.”

She turned to stare at him with a mixture of surprise and disappointment.

“Somebody’s got to watch my back,” he said, trying to hide his amusement at the look she gave him. 

“Broadside could do that!” She exclaimed. “Besides, you have R2!”

She gestured to the astromech.

«Uh, leave me out of this,» he chirped. 

“But I so enjoy your company, my Padawan,” Anakin pressed, but Ahsoka wasn’t buying it.

“Just admit it,” she said, voice bordering on a hiss as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t like my flying!”

Anakin’s mind was filled with the image of her almost killing them ten times over in the Abregado System.

“No, I-” He stuttered, glancing away briefly. “No, it’s not that, it’s just, I…”

“Skywalker!” Admiral Yularen’s gruff voice called out, saving him from the awkward conversation. Anakin glanced at the man gratefully, but stilled, the tightness in the man’s jaw the only indicator of his mood… save for the fact that his aura was flashing with alarm and was a sickening mix of disgust green, fury red, and determination blue. 

“The enemy warship has attacked our convoy of medical transports near Ryndellia,” he informed them, tone as grave as his expression, and Anakin’s eyes widened with a shock that was swiftly replaced by anger, though he forced himself to squash it as quickly as it came, considering Master Koon’s close proximity.

“Medical transports?!” Ahsoka cried, horrified, and Anakin growled his agreement. “Only General Grievous would go after clones who can’t fight back…”

“The Ryndellia system,” Anakin rumbled, eyes narrowed as he consulted his memory of the galaxy’s starsystems. “Near Naboo!” 

He jolted where he stood.

“Isn’t that where our medical base is?!” He exclaimed, resisting the urge to bare his fangs. “I’ll bet that will be his next target!”

“There are many star clusters in that area,” Master Koon tried to assuage, but there was a faint tickle in Anakin’s throat that tasted like sterile air and ash, and his gut churned at the stench of illness and infection interfused with that of burning flesh. 

Anakin shook his head. 

“No,” he growled. “I know that’s where they’re headed! Can’t you feel it?” 

 Master Koon regarded him for a long moment, and Anakin could see Ahsoka’s shock out of the corner of his eye. Even Admiral Yularen seemed taken aback by Anakin's insistence, but after a long moment, the Jedi Master gave a slow nod. 

“Your commune with the Force far exceeds that of any other living Jedi,” the Kel Dor admitted. “If you say that is where they are headed, if the Force says that that is where they are headed, then head there we shall, too.” 

Anakin blinked. Almost no-one listened to him when he claimed to have had a vision or a premonition or whatever.

He ducked his head at the older Jedi gratefully. 

“With a ship that big, he will be unable to chart a course that’s less than ten parsecs,” the Kel Dor rumbled thoughtfully, to which Anakin nodded. That certainly narrowed it down, and there was an itch in his brain, like a thought just out of reach that wouldn’t go away and wouldn’t come closer no matter how much he reached for it - he knew the way. He could not name it, but he knew it.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to take a shortcut,” he said, and then did not elaborate. “Admiral, warn that station what’s coming.”

Admiral Yularen, used to his odd moods and cryptic statements, simply nodded and strode off.

“This journey may be treacherous,” Master Koon added, evidently feeling left out of the crypticity. “If you lose any ships before you reach the target…” 

Anakin felt a flare of protective anger within his chest. 

“We won’t lose anybody,” he growled. I won’t allow it.

There was a long pause as Anakin turned and paced towards the starfighter, resting one hand against its flank and the other against the tight fabric of the latest invention of the vode meant to keep his wings within his body. It was certainly a lot less bulky and intrusive to his fighting style than the armor had been, but he still wasn’t sure if he hated the pressure the fabric induced or loved it.

“I will come along and fly fighter escort,” Master Koon called to him as Anakin leapt nimbly up the boarding ladder.

“Any help is welcome, Master Plo,” Anakin replied, giving the Kel Dor a slight smirk. “Just try not to fall behind.”

“I had a feeling you’d be coming along,” Ahsoka said to Master Koon over her shoulder as she began to climb the ladder after him. “Your ship has already been prepped.”

Master Plo’s aura flashed with affection for a brief moment before settling into a stoic blue as steady as the sky.

Anakin glanced away from them, towards the hustling hive of activity around him, each and every worker bee a friend to him, a life he would protect to his greatest ability. 

I have lives to spare, he thought solemnly. They do not.

The sanguine ceiling peeled apart with a whir, toothless jaws opening to reveal an abyss so dark it seemed unreal, the screen of blue in front of him vanishing as he, now one with his ship, paced out into the run, terror birds let loose from their corral, leaping upwards without legs or feathers, taking flight into a backdrop of stars. Electricity buzzed all around him, within him, was him, the steady pulsing of his own ship, of his own body, of everyone and everything around him. His vision blurred at the edges, every aspect of the universe sharpening as the Force flowed through him, its conduit, its wielder. The cruisers, thrumming with energy, steady like a rock and moving gently, unstoppably forwards like cetaceans, power and grace and shining light that in a blink, a spark, reached out to him.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s disapproving voice sounded within the cockpit. 

Anakin blinked, and he was back within himself, flesh and bone, his vision normal, but he could feel the way everything moved around him, and he knew that he could See.

“Well, if I don’t, I won’t be around to hear the ‘I told you so’,” Anakin retorted, stretching out in the Force, filling his ship until it became a second skin, but he brushed against Obi-Wan’s presence, and the two of them flinched away from each other.

“That’s reassuring,” Obi-Wan replied, a hint of amusement in his voice, giving no other reaction. “Well, take your shortcut, and I’ll take the long way, but you’d better be there before I arrive.”

A few months ago, Anakin would have felt a flash of irritation at his words; anger, maybe, if he was in a bad mood, or exasperation if he was in a good one. 

But now, Obi-Wan’s teasing tone just left him… aching. Empty, and aching. 

Something had been lost between them on Tatooine, on Coruscant, in the corridors between their quarters and the Halls Of Healing. 

Why weren’t you there? He wanted to ask.

“I’ll be there, Obi-Wan,” he said instead.

He tightened his jaw, squared his shoulders, banished that pestering aching lack of something to the shadowy corners of his mind, eyeing the stars with bared teeth and a soundless snarl. 

“Shadow Squadron, tighten formation,” he ordered, a flock leader shepherding their kin, a vision in his mind’s eye of where everyone was, where everyone should be, and where everyone would be. Satisfaction curled within him as the three became closer and closer to merging completely. 

“Call in,” he continued once they were in place.

One by one, the squadron members, his flockmates called in, the contact calls of migrating geese, reassurance that each one was alive and a reminder to keep them that way.

«Ugh, he’s probably doing his weird bird metaphors again,» R2 blatted to no one in particular.

“I know, Artooie,” Ahsoka murmured sympathetically, having not understood a word he said. “This is gonna be a tough one.”

“Cut the chatter, Ahsoka,” Anakin barked, keeping one ear on the calls of his flock- squadron mates. There were lives at stake here, precious lives, lives he would die to protect.

Anakin’s senses pricked as the last of the squadron called in, something small approaching them from behind. 

Not-Foe, the Force soothed, and Anakin calmed. A second later, the newcomer slotted in at the very back of the formation, settling an unease that Anakin hadn’t noticed until it was gone. 

“Fighter escort ready,” Master Plo’s voice rumbled through the comms. 

Anakin took a deep breath, carefully closing himself off from the Force. It felt bizarre to do such a thing inside his fighter, when he was used to being so deeply entranced in the Force that time ceased to be real, but it was necessary. 

“You are cleared for hyperspace jump,” Admiral Yularen called. “Good hunting, Sir.”

“Thanks, Admiral,” Anakin replied, his spine prickling as he felt Ahsoka’s watchful gaze on him. “All right, boys, let’s go!”

The stars blurred, then broadened, lengthening into streaks before him as the colors shifted from blue to red to blue again then finally to white, all in an instant, and Anakin huffed in relief as they began to soar through hyperspace without incident.

Anakin could practically feel Ahsoka’s burning urge to ask something, so with a roll of his eyes he disabled the comm.

“Yes, Padawan?” He huffed, exasperated.

“Why have you been passing out?” Ahsoka immediately blurted. “When we go to hyperspace, I mean.”

Anakin sighed. He should have known she would ask that.

“I honestly don’t know, Ahsoka,” he told her. “It’s like… It’s like I’m fine, one moment, and then I’m… not in my body, I guess.”

“Not… in your body?” Ahsoka echoed, her confusion-blue aura fading through the tight walls of the fighter, the colors seemingly unbothered by the constrictions of three dimensions and instead breaching into a fourth. 

“It’s like- It’s like I’m in a river, except the river is the Force, and everything above the river is the galaxy, and only my eyes and nose are above the water,” he tried, frustration clawing at him as his words only seemed to bewilder her further.

“...Weird,” she said, to which Anakin huffed. 

“That it is,” he agreed. “That it is.”

“You should write a book, or something,” she suggested. “For the Temple. About your experience, since Master Plo says it’s special.”

Anakin barked out a laugh.

“What am I supposed to put, ‘the Force is a river and I am in it’? I can hardly explain it to you and you have the context behind it, too!”

Ahsoka sniffed, but he could sense her amusement. 

“Well, when you put it that way,” she grumbled, her yellow aura giving away her pretend irritation. 

The moments stretched into minutes in comfortable silence, Anakin reviewing the starmaps in his head for good measure and Ahsoka… doing whatever she was doing. He didn’t really know.

Soon enough, a half-hour had passed, and the shrill trill of the alarm alerted them that they were dropping out of hyperspace. With a deep breath, Anakin prepared himself, and the white streaks shortened and shorted until they reverted back into the tiny white flecks of distant stars.

He turned the comms back on.

Opening himself back up to the Force, he performed his usual ritual of letting it flow through and around him, letting his presence swell to encompass every wire and panel of the fighter, breathing in time its electric hum. 

“Okay, if we can just manage to navigate through my shortcut, we’ll be all right,” he told them, his mental map of where should they be - where they are - where will they be merging once more as he gently inspected each fighter in the Force.

“A nebula can be very unpredictable,” Master Plo warned, and Anakin resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

No shit, he thought. It’s literally where stars are being made. Of course it’s unpredictable. 

“I advise caution,” the elder Jedi said.

“Don’t worry about us, Master Jedi,” Broadside replied. “We can hold our own. Right, Shadow Squadron?”

“Copy that, Shadow 2!” Matchstick replied.

“Does anyone care what the Padawan thinks?” Ahsoka squeaked. 

“Of course we care, Snips!” Anakin purred, amused. “But we’re still going through that nebula.”

R2 laughed at her.

“Thanks, Artooie,” Ahsoka grumbled. Evidently, she knew what that noise meant.

The nebula before them was messy and chaotic, a hurricane of energy, an avalanche of light pouring out in all directions. A warm golden light spread before them like the feathers of the firebird, burning and effervescent and ethereal. 

The closer they got, the thicker and darker the clouds became, fading from gold to rust orange to near ferruginous, until they could not see at all. Anakin could feel the other’s disquiet at being blind, at relying on their instruments - but he could feel where everyone was, where they had to go, which direction to head.

He curled his Force presence around them all in a way he hoped was soothing.

“This soup is thick,” Broadside murmured, though his unease had dampened. “Can you see anything?”

“Just keep your eyes on my thruster, Shadow 2,” he called back, his tone calm and, hopefully, comforting.

Ahsoka growled in frustration.

“They’ll have too,” she huffed. “The scanners are useless.”

“This is old-fashioned flying,” Anakin told her, amusement coloring his tone. “You have to feel your way through to stay on course.”

Ahsoka’s horror at the prospect only added to his amusement.

“Skywalker is right, Ahsoka,” Master Plo chimed in. “Clear your mind, young one, and you will see the path.”

“Right now, I can’t see anything at all,” she groused. 

Anakin hoped his amusement wasn’t broadcasting too loudly.

“I always know where I’m going,” Broadside boasted. 

“Yeah?” Matchstick chimed in. “Where’s that, Broadside?”

“I’m going to blow up that battleship!”

Anakin snorted out a laugh.

“A clear path if ever there was one,” Master Plo agreed, and Anakin didn’t have to see his aura to sense his amusement.

The clouds around them began to shift in hue again, taking on more brownish hues, flashes of sierra and umber overtaken by ochre and taupe. 

“So, SkyGuy, how did you know about this shortcut?” Ahsoka questioned as the silence stretched.

“It’s an old smuggler’s route,” he told her conspiratorially. “The pilots used to talk about it on Tatooine.”

He managed to resist his shudder at the mention of that cursed planet, but only just.

“Smuggler’s route?!” Ahsoka exclaimed, alarmed. “Huh! That makes me feel better!”

“They call it the Balmorra Run,” Anakin added.

“BALMORRA RUN?!” Master Plo shouted. 

“I think I’m picking up a contact,” Ahsoka said before Anakin could respond.

“Skywalker, listen to me, we need to turn around!” Anakin squinted at the comms, trying to figure out what was making the usually level-headed Jedi Master freak out

“We can’t,” he growled. “Not if we’re gonna catch Grievous.” 

And save the vode, he thought but didn’t say.

“Another contact!” Ahsoka called, alarmed. “This one’s much larger!”

“Skywalker! Balmorra’s the nesting ground of the giant neebray mantas!” 

Well, shit.

“Another!” Ahsoka called, panic staining her aura a pale green. “Another!”

The clouds to the left of the fighter swirled, then parted to reveal a hulking gray mass, a low wail echoing from the mantas’ throat as it charged towards them.

Shit, shit, shit!

“Take evasive action!” Anakin ordered.

Of all the times to not See something!

The squadron scattered, his perfectly manicured flock splitting as they fled the toothy maw of the mantas, only for the clouds to dissipate, revealing a column where the clouds were much thinner, mantas circling above and below them for leagues and fathoms. 

Ducking past and around, Anakin stretched out his presence, dodging translucent wings and swerving tails.

“Those gas-gulpers are huge!” Ahsoka cried as one narrowly passed overhead.

The squadron clustered back together in a very loose formation, and Anakin could feel the alarm sparking like flint against steel among the vode.

“Don’t shoot or they’ll panic!” Master Plo called.

“They’ll panic?!” Ahsoka cried, panicking. “I’m about to panic!”

“There are so many of them!” Matchstick yelped, and a moment later a jolt of fear stabbed through Anakin’s skull from where Matchstick was. 

Falling back, Anakin pulled closer to the vod, already knowing what he was about to say before he even called out that he was hit.

“My stabilizer’s out!” He cried.

“Pull it together, Matchstick!” Anakin said, reaching out desperately to try and see what was wrong, to try and fix what he could.

A severed circuit, a piece of torn paneling, if I can just twist it-

There!

Matchstick’s panic waned, his flying smoothing out.

“I’m okay,” the vod huffed out, catching his breath. “I got it.”

Another wave of mantas swooped upwards, swerving towards them.

“These things are gonna make a meal out of us!” Ahsoka cried, sending a wave of terror through the squadron.

Anakin bared his teeth in frustration.

«Actually, these are chemosynthesizing autotrophs; they don’t, can’t, and won’t eat people, which you would know if you actually did your homework,» R2 said bitchily. 

“All wings, line up behind me!” Anakin ordered, a path not yet formed opening up in his mind.

“Roger that, boss!” Broadside called, his trust complete, his faith unwavering.

Eyes falling half-closed, Anakin surrendered himself to instinct. Up, left, down, gently now.

It was peaceful, almost, the thick gas covering the electrical cries of the fighters like blankets, something primal and brand new singing to him deeper into the nebula - but that was not where his flock would be safe, and no matter how eye-wateringly beautiful that silent tune was, he would not follow it if it meant he would be leading them into danger.

Master Plo shouted about going beyond the nebula - Anakin could barely hear him over the song of the star-cradle and the roar of the star-eaters. 

It was peaceful, here, in the clouds, save for the panic of the others, the panic that drove him on despite how utterly calm he himself felt.

But as the clouds began to fade, so too did his trance, that melody leaving him as the voices of the others beckoned him back into his own skin as they broke through the final stretch of the nebula, into the quiet abyss beyond.

“Let’s hope your shortcut paid off!” Ahsoka was saying as Anakin scanned the stars, taking note of their position.

“We’re not far behind Grievous now,” he said after a moment, energy surging back into him. 

With a growl, he led them onwards, something nagging at the back of his skull, a sense of dread, the feeling as though he had forgotten something important, and the feeling that something bad was about to happen. 

Past and future, something bad, something bad, the Force hummed as it churned agitatedly around him.

“Shadow 2, what is the damage to your ship?” Master Plo questioned.

“Just a scratch, sir,” Matchstick replied. 

“We must not take any more unnecessary risks,” the Kel Dor rumbled, an accusing note to his tone. “If we lose even a single ship, our mission is that much closer to failure.”

“Understood, Master Plo,” Anakin grunted, bristling. “But we didn’t lose any ships and I didn’t-”

Anakin cut off, the Force calling out to him a warning, and without thinking Anakin slammed his shields down just as Matchstick called out something about another contact.

“Master?” Ahsoka squeaked, alarmed and concerned. “I thought those things wouldn’t follow us, and are you-”

“Not following,” Broadside yelped. “Coming out of hyperspace! It’s a ship!”

Dread coiled around him like a live wire.

“It’s the Malevolence!”

Anakin’s senses lit up like fire, and despite his shielding, despite all the pain-killers he had snuck before the mission, it still felt like his brain was being dragged across gravel and broken glass as The Leviathan emerged in front of them, its eyes locked onto its hapless prey adrift and motionless in the sea of stars.

Fury overcame his pain.

Mine! His instincts howled. Protect! Protect! Protect!

With a wordless snarl, he gathered his flock to him, swooping low and fast towards The Leviathan as it prowled ever closer to the station, medical frigates evacuating the injured scattering like minnows from the approaching predator, and Anakin’s rage brayed as the Leviathan diverted course, snapping at the fleeing out of cruelty and nothing more. 

“We’ve got fighters coming in!” Ahsoka said as Anakin bared his teeth up at the incoming swarm. 

His flock scattered into organized chaos, splitting off as the two forces met and clashed, the safety that his wings provided fading with distance and chaos as Anakin was forced to diverge most of his attention to destroying the enemy. 

“Steady, come on, hold it steady!” He shouted to be heard over the scream of plasma and steel. All around him, enemy after enemy exploded into balls of fire and shrapnel, foe after foe falling to his frenzied yet steady attack. 

The teeth of the beast glinted stark and vile in his mind’s eye, conical fangs turned towards them, scraping against his mind and soon to scrape against their flesh.

“Get those fighters off of us!” He snapped to Ahsoka, haring between the enemy ships at such fast speeds that even their mechanical pilots were having trouble keeping up. 

“Your fancy flying is making it difficult!” She snapped back, but he was too busy dodging an attack, making sure he was in the correct spot to dodge the next, all while making sure that he didn’t leave anyone else vulnerable and that Ahsoka had a free shot at all times.

The water churned as the Leviathan surged towards them, mouth agape, ready to swallow them-

“Make towards the edge of the ray now!” He roared, jetting upwards, his flock close behind him, but it would be close, close, too close-

“Give it everything you got!” He yelled, but there was something wrong, something wrong, past and future something wrong wrong wrong!

“Shadow 2, your speed is dropping, what’s wrong?!” Ahsoka shouted, and Anakin’s stomach plummeted even as they hurtled weightless through space.

“Nothing, Sir, just- trying to keep it together!” Matchstick called back, but Anakin could see it, could see it and not stop it, the teeth, the teeth, the teeth closing in-

“You can make it Matchstick,” he said, with much more calm than he felt, but it wasn’t true, he could see it, was seeing it, saw it, could not stop it- “-hang on!”

A scream, the flock scattering, Ahsoka’s gasp, silence, silence, silence, and he could not see any more. 

The teeth had torn asunder two, had scooped into the jaws three more, had pressed too closely to him and had rendered him unsure of his own existence for a few long agonizing moments as he fought to regain control over his own body, to clear away the white haze of sheer pain, driven only by the need to protect.

The physical pain cleared. The rest would remain, a part of him forever more.

“Shadow Squadron, check in,” he managed to choke out against the overwhelming taste of blood. 

He could not tell if it was his or not.

“We lost Matchstick and Tag,” Ahsoka told him, numbly. 

Anakin felt the harsh wave of grief from Broadside. Felt it himself.

“Shadows 6, 7, and 10 were caught in the ray,” she continued.

He was trembling. Trembling in exertion and pain and grief, trembling in burning rage at the Leviathan that had stolen away the precious lives he had tried so hard to protect, had failed to protect.

He bared his teeth at the stars that watched coldly down on them, venom thrumming within, dripping down his chin in obsidian iridescent rivulets.

They could not stop now. The Leviathan had struck, and the costs were high, but they could not stop.

“Stay on course!” Master Plo ordered.

“This flak is heavy!” One of the Shadows called. 

“All deflectors, double front!” Anakin barked, trying to wrestle feeling back into his shock-numbed body. 

“Master, we need a new plan!” Ahsoka yelled.

What new plan?! Anakin wanted to scream.

“Hang in there, Ahsoka!” He shouted instead, desperation heavy in his tone. “We can make it!”

They swooped closer and closer to the bridge, righteous rage and grief sharpening their talons, the Leviathan regaining its burning brightness by the second as it recovered its charge.

“Watch those towers, boys!” He called, a painful twinge in his head all the warning he got before one of the Shadows shouted something before their com went silent.

He suppressed the wail that wanted to claw its way out of his throat.

Now was not the time to grieve.

“Master!” Ahsoka cried. “You can make it, but everyone else is getting shot down!”

She was right, Anakin knew it, she was right, but he alone would not be able to do enough damage to the bridge, and what would all of their deaths have been for if they retreated now? Would they want him to retreat? Did that even matter anymore? They were his flock, he needed to protect them, but if he didn’t take out Grievous then they would still be in danger-

“Master!” Ahsoka yowled again, and the teeth were in his periphery again, growing ever larger-

“If we can do enough damage, the weapon may overload when Grievous tries to fire!” Master Plo shouted.

He could save the rest of his flock in this moment, could save all the injured vode-

It would just mean letting his brothers’ killer live another day to kill more and more.

He spared one last glare at the tower, flaring his Force presence as much as he could in the moment in open threat, before focusing back on his remaining squadron-mates. 

“Shadow Squadron, new target,” he told them. “We’re taking out the starboard ion cannon.”

They were small in number now, but this was the only choice they had left. Closer and closer, they approached the maw, ducking between rows and rows of fangs to strike at the delicate flesh beneath, the predator can’t kill if doesn’t have any teeth left-

“Torpedos away!” He yowled, and the world around him was full of purple, screaming plasma, and this close to the Leviathan, he couldn’t breathe, black was swimming all around his vision-

 At the last second, it ceased, leaving him gasping and heaving, jaws splitting open to unleash a wave of blood, and through his blurred vision he saw The Leviathan turn, gums bloody and toothless, flesh torn and broken open, limping away, retreating, silent in its pain.

“Master?” Ahsoka squeaked.

“I’m fine,” Anakin gasped, Master Plo’s voice barely registering as the Jedi Master said something over the comms. “Nice job, Ahsoka.”

He felt her aura curl with pleasure at the praise, interspersed with worry for him. Reaching out in the Force, he brushed against her presence, purring silently. She relaxed, purring back.

“Anakin? Do you copy?” Obi-Wan’s voice crackled through, and Anakin’s purring died down.

“I’m here,” he replied, though his voice was raspy and the taste of iron was nauseating.

“Congratulations,” Obi-Wan said. “It looks like your mission was a success.”

“Partially, but Grievous is still alive,” Anakin responded, a weight wrapping around his soul as his focus returned to The Leviathan, to its toothless blood, to its bloodied teeth. “The battle was pretty rough on my men.”

A grief to be carried for the rest of time.

“We’re heading for the medical station,” he finished, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and squinting at the ruddy stain it left.

“We’ll take it from here,” Obi-Wan told him. “But don’t worry, we’ll call when we need you.”

“I’ll be waiting, Obi-Wan,” Anakin replied, slumping as the call cut. 

There was a long, solemn silence as he led the remaining members of his flock towards the sheltered safety of the medical station, their grief and rage and exhilaration a firework on the edge of his senses.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Master?”

Anakin hesitated, then disabled the comms completely. 

“I’m fine now, Ahsoka,” he told her. “But that ion cannon really messed with my senses. Don’t freak out, but I may be bleeding just a little bit.”

“Bleeding?!” She hissed.

“I’ll be fine!” He huffed. “Just a nose bleed, that’s all… and a little cough…”

“You’re coughing up blood?!”

“Not anymore!” 

“Master!” 

“Ahsoka, focus on me in the Force. I am okay.”

“...I suppose,” she relented, though her displeasure was loud and clear. 

“Look, Master Plo asks, just tell him it’s from my nosebleed yesterday, alright?” He told her.

“You mean the one from you passing out and denting the terminal of the Twilight?” Ahsoka questioned, her skepticism a gray cloud hovering in his peripheral.

Anakin sniffed. 

“Yeah, that one,” he grumbled. 

“...Fine. But you owe me!” She squawked. 

The ports of the medical station were open and inviting, calling to their weary wings as they approached, slowing as they swooped in, gently landing like fish coming to rest in the shelter of a coral reef. Anakin ran through the landing checks, systematically shutting down the fighter, and at the first possible moment Ahsoka sprang out, shaking her head vigorously as Anakin watched from the cockpit.

It probably isn’t pleasant being in a fighter when your entire head is your ears, Anakin thought, keeping one eye on her as he continued through the shutdown process. 

Finishing up, he opened the top up and began to climb down to where Ahsoka and now Master Plo were waiting.

“Great job, Master Skywalker,” the elder Jedi rumbled, and Anakin’s chest warmed at the praise. “Your leadership skills are most impressive.”

Anakin turned to face him, and he saw as the Kel Dor’s eyes landed on his blood-smeared face, aura sharpening in surprise and worry.

“You didn’t do so bad yourself,” Anakin replied, ignoring the way the Jedi Master was not-so-subtly scanning him in the Force. Evidently, Master Plo was put at ease by what he found, relaxing even as Ahsoka’s presence flashed with outrage.

“Uh, excuse me?!” She squeaked, her aura an indignant orange. “I believe it was my suggestion to change the plan!”

Anakin’s lips twitched in amusement as he hopped down the last few rungs on the ladder and turned towards her.

“That’s kind of true, Snips,” he purred, grinning without teeth.

“From a certain point of view,” Master Plo added, his aura yellowing with amusement. 

Ahsoka gave an annoyed sniff, following behind him. 

Anakin turned to look at her over his shoulder, giving her a slow-blink and a nod, which seemed to calm her down.

Master Plo went off somewhere else -probably to report to the Council or do some flimsywork or whatever - as Anakin and Ahsoka continued up towards the bridge. 

Anakin halted in front of one of the vode, a symbol on his pauldron marking him as a Captain even though his armor was unpainted and new. 

Friend, he signed. Name?

“Make sure our ships are ready,” he instructed as the man’s aura flashed with shock. “We’ll only have a short time before Obi-Wan calls us for support.”

Sturdy, the vod replied.

“Yes, Sir,” Sturdy said. Anakin nodded at him, giving him the sign equivalent of a smile before continuing onwards.

“General Skywalker,” a feminine voice called out in greeting as they approached. “I wanted to thank you for your valiant effort today.”

Anakin met the eyes of the long-necked Kaminoan, resisting the urge to curl his lip at her. The Kaminoans were far from kind to the vode, he knew, hurt them, but this one, Nala Se, had stayed behind during an imminent attack to help the wounded. That meant something, and so, Anakin nodded.

“Do not take the lives you saved lightly,” she said.

“I don’t,” Anakin replied, lowering his head in grief. “But I also can’t take the lives I lost lightly.”

Understanding flashed in the Kaminoan’s eyes.

“I see,” she said softly, and he knew that she did. 

Yes, he decided, she had stayed behind, and that meant something.

“If you must excuse me, I must prepare for the coming battle,” he told her, dipping his head in respect at her. 

Turning, he hurried away, leaving Ahsoka to talk with the others.

A heavy feeling of loss overtook him as he hurried towards the hanger, images flashing in his mind of flames and screaming and silence, and he shuddered with silent pain. 

Halting in front of the translucent barrier that separated everyone on the station from the void, Anakin gazed up at the stars, tinted blue as they were by the screen. Another battle after another, more lives lost, no progress made. Surely it had to end soon, right? Already the war had been waging for half a year, would it be another half until it ceased? How high would the casualties go in that period? How many friends would he lose by the time the curtains fell? 

R2 rolled up to his side, silent as he stared into the void, misty-eyed as he asked himself how many more he could stand to lose. 

Ahsoka came to stand by him, too, after a long while.

He blinked away the forming tears, setting his jaw against the grief.

He was fighting for them, he reminded himself. He had to remember that - he was fighting for them. 

No matter how many lives it costs me, I will always fight for them.