A/N: This is my first time writing an Anakin and Ahsoka piece. For tumblr user:itsneveranat-at.
Anakin Skywalker was a freak. A nine year old boy, brought to the Jedi Temple in a shroud of rumors. The Council thought he was the Chosen One, spoken about in the prophecy's of old. He was going to be allowed to be a Jedi, even though he was far too old. He was going to be trained by Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man who was now a legend for killing a Sith. The other Padawans resented him. Skywalker was too old to be trained. He could remember a home and a family away from the Temple. That had never been heard of. And yet he had gotten a Master while some of them were still waiting to be chosen. Why was he so special? Why was Anakin Skywalker so much better?
He wasn't better than the rest of them. He wasn't perfect. He got himself captured, tortured, he wasn't always successful during missions. He had lost his hand to a Sith Lord. He had gotten scarred by Asajji Ventress. He was every bit as human as the rest of them, maybe even more so. Wasn't he supposed to be better than them? He was the Chosen One. He was supposed to make less mistakes, not more.
Anakin Skywalker knew better. He was not "Chosen", he was picked. Qui-Gon Jinn picked him, Obi-Wan Kenobi picked him, and the Council picked him. He wasn't so special. Just lucky. He didn't ask to be the Chosen One. He didn't ask to be taken off Tatooine. He never asked to be trained by Obi-Wan. He didn't ask be given a Padawan.
Anakin Skywalker had no idea what to do with Ahsoka Tano. He didn't want a Padawan, not that the Council cared. They felt Ahsoka would somehow make him less reckless, more mature, and take more responsibility for the young woman in her charge.
"And how well has that been working?" Anakin muttered angrily, tearing open another package of some type of sweetcake and then pouring himself another shot of Old Janx Spirit. It was becoming his nighttime ritual, a cure for his insomnia. He tried meditation, he tried wandering the halls, even bothering Obi-Wan at some point. Nothing helped because his mind was still active, still thinking and blaming.
He fell into this pattern instead. Once Ahsoka was asleep, he sent a Force-suggestion in the general direction of her room so he could sit undisturbed. Eating and drinking until the alcohol and sugar overload sent him into somewhat of a slumber. At least the food and drink took the edge off. The alcohol numbed his mind while the sugar kept his mouth occupied, the constant chewing giving him an easy pattern to fall into. It kept him away from the overwhelming guilt.
Why did he end up with a Padawan? He couldn't handle her. He could barely keep himself in control (and the wrappers and bottles hidden in his kitchen suggested that "barely" was being generous.) She deserved a Master much more in control. Why not give her to Obi-Wan? Anakin knew nothing of how to deal with younger children, never mind teach. It was unfair to do to Ahsoka. It was even worse because – even though she had never voiced it – Anakin knew she felt the same way he had. My Master didn't pick me. My Master didn't want a Padawan.
He knew what the Padawans had said about him when he was a youngling: He doesn't belong in the Temple. He isn't good enough to be a Jedi. He doesn't fit in with us. His Master didn't even want him. He's no Chosen One. There were still members of the Council who think he should be living in a hut on Tatooine.
And now they were saying the same about Ahsoka. He had heard the whisperings of the other Masters. She was made a Padawan too soon. She was too young, too reckless. Anakin speared the last piece of cake angrily with his fork, shoving it into his mouth and then following it down with the last dregs of his glass. "Exactly like I was as a Padawan." Only h deserved everything that happened to him. The only thing Ahsoka was guilty of was being paired with Anakin.