Rila: My mental muse is all over the place right now, thrown into a tizzy over the finale and what not. So, this is cut off at just a one-shot. Forgive me if it's not the best, I'm not the biggest fan of Anakin. Though I do feel bad for him for what's just happened. So...*waves* Enjoy? And now, back to my other projects. :P Written in the same style as Lucky. Un beta-ed, so if there are any errors, sorry! Sorry if this doesn't make sense...XD
Disclaimer: Yes, I'm quite aware that 'Where to Now' was on Gray's Anatomy and Switched at Birth. I watch neither show. I just happen to like Cider Sky. Lyrics are in brackets and italics.
Word Count: 1,003
Chapter Description: He knew that he'd have to say goodbye to her someday — he just didn't think it'd be so soon.
[Tell me where to now? 'cause the lights are out, and the covers and the gloves are off.]
He isn't quite sure where his feet decide to take him until he finds himself standing outside her door. A door that he'd stood in front of plenty of times, though for very different reasons. Now, however, he isn't quite sure why he's here.
Or why he enters the room, door sliding away with a mechanical hiss. The room does not look like it belongs to her, no clothes strewn across the floor. Everything has its place, the bed neatly made and clothes carefully stored away. This is her room, and yet it isn't.
Not anymore.
The bed will remain neatly made, everything will have its place. Nothing will be touched. The room, if he has his way, will be hermatically sealed off, a promise that nothing has changed should she choose to return.
But he knows she won't.
No matter how much he wants her to, no matter how much he wants her to reconsider and come back, he knows that she won't. Inhaling, Anakin turns around and closes the door, striding away from the room as quickly as he can.
[There's no win or lose, so go ahead make your move. Let's just pray that it's good enough.]
In the beginning, Anakin hadn't wanted a Padawan. Having a youngling tagging along with him everywhere he went would slow him down, and he didn't have time to worry about someone else. The battlefield was not a place for children, anyway.
But then he found himself with one, her mouth making up for her small stature. Her habit of challenging his orders, her reckless behavior that was a mimcry of his own. The resemblance at times, he had noted, were startling. But instead of making him proud, it scared him.
He was responsible for her. If she died, it would be his fault. And so he had gone from begrudging acceptance to protective, a change that had irritated Ahsoka. Barring her from some of the more difficult missions, he'd hoped that maybe in that way, he could keep her safe.
He'd been wrong.
He'd been aware that he couldn't protect her from everything, couldn't be there for her through everything. But he had wanted to. Even in her young age, Ahsoka had seen and gone through things that others couldn't even dream of. And he hated it.
And perhaps, a part of him wonders later, if he had been able to protect her from everything, been able to prevent things from happening to her, things would have been different. But, another piece of him reminds, it is not the Jedi way to regret things in the past.
But somehow, Anakin feels that this is all his fault.
[There's a war in my heart getting tired of fighting. When you say that you love me, it hurts like lightning.]
Obi-Wan finds him in the mess hall of the Resolute, staring down into a cup of caf and trying to ease his headache.
"I doubt you'll find the answers you're looking for in there," Obi-Wan says, and it's an attempt to get him to reply, to answer like he usually would. But it doesn't work, and Obi-Wan frowns, eyes softening. "Anakin—"
"Don't."
Obi-Wan doesn't listen. "Blaming yourself for Ahsoka's decision to leave will not help anything."
"She wasn't your Padawan," he hisses, and a part of him registers that he shouldn't be lashing out at his Master, but it's overriden by anger and pain. "This is my fault, Master. If I'd gone with her to see Letta, if I'd been able to convince her to come back earlier..." He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and looks up at Obi-Wan. "Maybe she wouldn't have left."
"Anakin, there is a reason that these things happened." Ever gentle in tone, Obi-Wan continues, "perhaps Ahsoka was meant to leave the Order."
Anakin snorts, the sound bitter. "Right," he says, "do you know how much you sound like the Council when they were trying to justify what they did to her? They abandoned her, Obi-Wan. We abandoned her." His gaze, blazing with hatred for the Council and himself, drops down the cup of caf. "I abandoned her. And then when it turns out that she's innocent, the Council wants her back. They offer her Knighthood, saying that this was her Trial." He laughs, the sound dark and bitter. "What a joke."
"I don't condone what the Council did," Obi-Wan says after a moment of silence, "but you musn't try to place blame."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" He lifts his gaze again, searching Obi-Wan's face for answers. "Can you tell me that, Master? What am I supposed to do?"
[Where to now? (Who knows)]
