Tion'ad hukaat'kama?
"Who's watching your back?"
Chapter 1
Anakin woke up in the medbay of the Resolute, machines beeping too loudly and lights flickering much too brightly. The scent of bacta clung to his skin and he wrinkled his nose. For him, the smell reminded him too much of when he had gotten his prosthetic arm. The same arm that was suspiciously missing now.
He groaned. Everything was a little foggy. He had been awake before, had woken up minutes before they had plunged him into a bacta bath. He had learned his medic's name then. But that seemed like a lifetime ago.
He tried to shift in the bed, but his side felt like it had been set on fire. From the way his chest was uncovered all but the large bandage, he figure that had to be pretty close to the truth. Instantly, Kix was fussing over him, hand on his shoulder to hold him steady while he held the largest needle Anakin had ever seen attached to a syringe.
"Vaabir gar ganar jaro?" Kix spat.
He flinched as the other man brought the needle close. The medic sighed.
"Just relax, General. This is just something to help with the infection."
He winced as the needle broke his skin, feeling like it was pinching the muscle in his arm. It took everything in him to not shift away, knowing from past experience it would only make it hurt worse. He knew it was all in his mind, but he couldn't help seeing needle and thinking tracker.
"How bad was it?" The fact that he still needed medicine to treat an infection that the bacta hadn't gotten rid of spoke to how bad it had been.
Kix bowed his head. "Sir, with all due respect, sir, but it was bad enough that if you ever do that again, I'm going to recommend you for planetside leave with mandatory mind healing sessions. Indefinitely."
Anakin grimaced. He definitely was not suicidal, at least he liked to think he wasn't. But his medic clearly thought otherwise, so it must have been worse than what he had thought.
He thought back to it. It was still fuzzy, but his mind was trying to work through it.
"I didn't exactly plan to be right next to that tank when it exploded." The look on Kix's face told him the other man didn't believe him.
And part of him didn't either.
Still, the medic left, so that told him that the clones hadn't placed him on suicide watch. Either they figured that he hadn't tried to kill himself on purpose or that wouldn't be able to stop him if he was going to try again.
As the meds started to kick in, he closed his eyes, trying to meditate back on what had happened to sort everything straight in his mind.
He had been leading the clones into battle. A ground assault. It seemed pretty pointless after a while. There was wave after wave of droids, an endless sea of them. They were using a new kind of tank, one that wasn't easy to destroy. He had managed to get on board and sabotage the engine when the voice is his head had started talking.
Why are you fighting so hard for them? No one would care if you were gone.
No one. Not Padmé, not Obi-Wan.
Padmé is saddled with a husband she's ashamed of. That's the real reason your relationship has to be kept secret.
Obi-Wan is stuck with the stain on his record within the Order. You're just a nuisance to him.
The rest of the Order would definitely be relieved to be rid of you. You're too much of a wild card. The Order doesn't like wild cards.
You should just stay here. You've always liked droids. They've always liked you. They'd appreciate you much more than the clones do.
He bit his tongue as the too fresh memory resurfaced. He knew that voice of his self-doubt and inner loathing too well now. He knew he shouldn't listen to it. Sometimes, it seemed like it had taken on a life of its own. Sometimes its words made no sense; sometimes it made too much sense. But for a few moments, listening to it had almost seemed like a good idea. Clearly, it wasn't the brightest thing he had ever done.
He knew exactly how close he had gotten. It was only when he remembered Boba and Padme's faces during his last leave that the haze started to clear and he had started to move away. But at that point, it had been too late. He had already set the charge when the voice had begun talking, so the countdown had been next to done before he came back to his senses.
Rex had been beyond angry. Kix had chewed him out as they brought him back aboard the ship, barely conscious. But the familiar jaig eyes helmet was sitting at the table at the end of the bed, which meant Rex wasn't too far. He wasn't too angry.
Kix was right about the mind healer. He needed to talk to someone about this. It was a little ridiculous that any time he started to feel balanced, the voice would start whispering all sort of doubts in ear. Self-sabotage at its worst.
Maybe he should talk to Obi-Wan about it. He already knew about his family, so no risk of an outsider spilling the secret. He knew about what had happened with the Tuskens and had seemed more upset that Anakin was going to turn himself in than what he had done.
How could you talk to Obi-Wan? He doesn't want you around anymore. He didn't even show up at your knighting ceremony. He couldn't wait to be rid of you.
Anakin concentrated hard on shutting the voice up. It was too loud, too all consuming.
To his amazement, the voice stopped and the room seemed strangely silent without it. A loud buzzing in his ears took over instead, with the worst headache he had ever experienced. It was like someone was repeatedly stabbing a vibroblade into his skull. He opened his eyes to see if Kix was there still. The meds had screwed with his Force perception and his vision and equilibrium, or the room really was spinning and darkening at the same time.
He tried to call out for help, for Kix or Rex or anyone. But it felt like he had swallowed his tongue and his limbs felt so heavy. He could only remember feeling like that once before, when he had been very little and they hadn't had access to good meds, only ones that made him sicker.
At least his mom had been with him for that. She wasn't here now and he was going to be alone when he couldn't breath anymore, when his throat closed up completely. It never occurred to him that Kix might give him a general antibacterial medication, had thought for sure it would have been in his file from the Order. After all, they had done so many tests on him when he had arrived there.
For some reason, he couldn't stop wondering if Padmé knew of any good mind healers before everything else went blissfully blank.
Anakin woke up in a medical bed. His first thought was instant panic, because he had done this already. Hadn't he? But he couldn't hear the ship's engines or feel the gentle motion he always felt moving through space.
A tube was over his face, over his nose, pushing clean oxygen into them. He breathed in deeply, happy to feel his throat and lungs working properly again. He was back in the Temple and they had hooked him up on a drip that went into his arm. His mechanical arm had been replaced. Whatever medicine was in it was the better kind, the kind that didn't make him sick and didn't make the pain worse.
Obi-Wan was sleeping in a chair across from the bed. His neck and head were at an odd angle. He didn't look like he had slept long, so he didn't want to wake his former master, especially considering the sore note they had left things on.
Anakin took advantage of the quiet to take account of how he felt. He didn't feel the heaviness in his chest when he breathed, nor did he feel like he was frozen. And his time, when he reached for the Force, it was there, readily available.
Obi-Wan made a sad noise, like a wounded animal. Taking pity on him, Anakin reached out and gave him a small mental tap. The other man sat up startled. You could take the soldier from the battlefield, but it didn't seem to make a difference.
"Anakin," he breathed and his voice sounded so relieved and terrified that Anakin couldn't help but think smugly at the voice: See. He does care.
Obi-Wan wiped his face, straightening up.
"Stars, Anakin! What were you thinking?"
He grimaced. He was hoping he'd conveniently forget about that… somehow. He gave him an awkward grin, which only served to make Obi-Wan glare at him.
"I wasn't," he admitted.
Then he preceded to tell Obi-Wan about the voice. A look of horror grew on his former master's face. The more he said to the other man, the more the voice fought him, told him he was making a mistake in trusting the other man, that he was being stupid.
"Oh Anakin," Obi-Wan sighed when he finished, reaching for him. "I don't think it's your subconscious."
He blinked. Of all the responses he anticipated , he never expected that.
"Then what is it?" Him being crazy, he could have dealt with. Everyone was a little crazy from the war.
"I think someone might be influencing your mind."
"To what end?" He was ashamed of the hysterical edge his voice had taken.
Obi-Wan gave him a fond smile, a little bit sad and a little bit amused. "You know very well you are more powerful than anyone at the Temple."
He shook his head, denying it. Midichlorians aside, he could never beat Obi-Wan or Master Yoda in a fight. And Dooku had handed him his ass every time they had fought. So he couldn't possibly be more powerful.
The words that came out of Obi-Wan's mouth were painful, held a shock he didn't want, had been denying, but had secretly wounded in the depths of his mind. "I think perhaps the Sith Master has been trying to influence you, so you would be susceptible to turn and be his new apprentice."
He didn't want to hear it, but forced himself to stay calm. Panicking wouldn't help anything, though that was about all he wanted to do.
"How could that be possible?" he asked Obi-Wan and was proud when his voice didn't shake nearly as much as he felt like it should. A Sith Lord has in his mind. A Sith Lord whispering things to him, actions that he had listened to. He felt absolutely sick. With very little warning, he turned and reached for the sick bowl beside the bed and threw up what little was in his stomach. He barely had time to move the oxygen tube from his face before it happened, but the drip was still in his arm tugging painfully. His ribs felt like they were on fire again and that only made everything worse.
Obi-Wan's hand was on his back, like he was a child again. And really, had he ever gotten to be one? If the voice truly was the Sith Master's and Obi-Wan's theory of the Sith trying to turn him was right, they had been trying since the day he had set foot on Coruscant. At nine-years-old, homesick, scared, and lonely, how could he have known as to what such a voice was?
When he lifted his face from the bowl that his friend pulled from under him, he was crying.
"Shh, it's okay," the other man offered, holding him like he had when he had first come to the Temple.
"How can you say that?" he asked, only slightly hysterically. "If you're right, then he's had his eyes on me since the day I was brought here, before I even was accepted in the Temple."
Obi-Wan looked greened at the idea that he had been exposed to it so young.
"We should have..." his old master cut off, and Anakin couldn't help but wonder just what it was they should have done.
Kix was shamefaced for making such a critical medical error when he and Rex visited while he was waiting for Obi-Wan to return.
"General, I am extremely sorry. I can guarantee an error of this magnitude won't happen again in the future."
He chuckled and Kix looked horrified.
"It never occurred to me that the Jedi hadn't given you my medical file."
"I'm afraid it never occurred to me, sir." No, it wouldn't have. Clone physiology was identical across the board. Boba could receive the same treatment as Rex and be perfectly fine. But the clones hadn't been trained to treat injuries for anyone who wasn't one of them. It made no sense to him, since the few Jedi medics were stretched so thin. There weren't enough medics to cover the entire army.
He had always had an allergy to something in the general antibacterials. His mother had always had a similar reaction, had always taken care to not give them meds that would do more harm than good. But with such limited resources, sometimes it couldn't be helped.
He had always thought himself lucky though. When he had been a child, he had a friend, Nylalita, who had gotten cut on some scraps. Her master hadn't wanted to waste the cost of bandages on her. Anakin had smuggled some to her, but she had needed proper medical care. She had bleed and bleed until she had collapsed and never woke up. He had been so angry that day. It would have cost her master next to nothing to get her treatment, but cost her life to not.
But his master found it more profitable to have his slaves in working order, much to their benefit.
"I'm okay, Kix. You couldn't have known."
"Still, General, it shouldn't have happened."
Rex snorted. "Here he was ranting about you being suicidal and he nearly helps you off yourself." He paused, then tacked on, "Sir."
Anakin couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.
Later that day, Obi-Wan marched back in, looking more determined than he had when he had left.
"I've gotten some leave time for you to recover on Coruscant."
Anakin frowned. "You told the Council then?" If the Council knew, he would be expelled or jailed or worse. He had been listening to a Sith Lord for the last decade and following what they had been saying. Didn't that make him an apprentice or something? But he didn't feel dark, not like he had when he had killed the Tuskens.
Obi-Wan shook his head. "I only told them that you got injured and then poisoned and that your medic had recommended that you have some time off, because you nearly got yourself blown up. As soon as you're released, we'll work on undoing the Sith's hold on your mind."
He nodded.
"Get some rest, padawan," the older man said fondly, ruffling his hair. Anakin tried to dodge it, but as bad as he was feeling, he could hardly move. Staying in the Temple wouldn't be so bad and maybe soon he could see Padmé and Boba.
It was late in the third day before he was released from the Healer's wing, but was warned to not leave the Temple, to return to his and Obi-Wan's shared apartments and stay there.
So of course he was surprised when his master arrived with the controls to a speeder in his hand and a robe for him to wear.
"I thought you might be more comfortable here," he offered when they landed at 500 Republica.
Anakin smiled at the older man. "Thank you."
He nodded. "I'll be back tomorrow. We can work on figuring everything out then."
Anakin nodded and Obi-Wan turned back towards the speeder. He watched as the other man departed as Padmé stepped out onto the veranda.
"You're home," she sighed, eyes shining with shed tears. "When Obi-Wan told me what happened…" she cut herself off, overcome for a moment. "I was so worried."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, embracing his wife. He savored the moment. It wasn't all that long since he'd been out in the field, but who knew when he'd get to see her again. It figured that Obi-Wan would have told her what happened.
"Come on. Let's go inside."
Boba was sitting on the couch. He was pretending to work on school work, but was actually watching them. When they entered, he muttered dryly, "Su cuy'gar."
Anakin raised a brow at his son. He definitely needed to learn Mandalorian, but he was prioritizing it for after he got the Sith Lord out of his head.
"Hello to you too," he said back, ruffling the kid's hair. Boba glared at him.
"You made Padmé worried. Mir'osik."
"Boba!" Padmé scolded. He cast a glance at his wife. "It's a curse word. I can't remember which one though. He uses so many. I think it's like idiot, but stronger," she translated.
"Ah." He shrugged. "He's not entirely wrong." He nudged the boy's feet of the couch, sitting down on the end of it. Boba glared harder and moved, his face a mask of nothing but anger.
"Kaysh mirsh solus," he muttered to Padmé, but from the looks the kid kept giving him, he was clearly talking about him. "Di'kut."
"That one I recognize," Anakin muttered to his wife. "Kix said it enough times at me that for a while I was thinking that was my name." He gave Boba a small smile. "But it's not."
"Nar'sheb."
Padmé rubbed her temples, clearly trying to fight the headache. Being a single parent had to be hard on her.
"Go to your room for a bit. There's something I want to talk to Padmé about."
Boba wasn't thrilled and he made that clear by making a production of gathering his data pads and marching towards his room, slamming the door behind him.
"Oh my, how rude!" Threepio exclaimed as he entered the room. "Mistress Padmé, is there anything I might get for you? Master Anakin! You're home. How delightful!"
He smiled slightly. "We're fine, Threepio," his wife answered. "Thank you."
The droid let out a loud mechanical huff and turned back towards the kitchen, muttering all the way.
"What's wrong?" she asked gently, but he knew she meant what was wrong beside him injuries. He sighed and started to explain. He watched her go wide eyed and pale and when he finished, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. "And don't you dare try to tell me it's alright," she spat as he lifted his hand to stroke her hair.
But he didn't open his mouth to try to tell her everything was fine. He had promised he wouldn't lie to her and it was a promise he wanted to keep.
Later, after he had gotten his wife to calm down, Anakin headed into Boba's room. He seemed to have something against sitting on furniture like a normal being and instead was laying on the bed with his feet on the wall.
Boba didn't bother to acknowledge his presence, so he knocked, but the kid was doing an admirable job of staring at his data pad. Apparently, they had reached the stage where he was actively ignored him then.
"Boba," he said, softly, gently, like Obi-Wan used to when he had been particularly stubborn.
The boy didn't so much as look in his direction. He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry for worrying you."
Nothing. Not even a glare. Stars, how had Obi-Wan made dealing with him as a child look so easy?
"I know it's hard, but you can't go around expressing your feelings in a string of curses and nothing else."
Boba glared, but otherwise didn't speak. That was progress at least.
"When I first got here, I was terrified all the time. After the awe of the planet wore off, all I could do was count the days until I was knighted so I could go home and free my mother. I shut people out and was not a very pleasant person to be around most of the time."
"I'm not unpleasant to be around," Boba muttered angrily, "Just ask Teckla."
Anakin chuckled. "Is that why you won't look at me except to glare?"
Boba glared again, only proving his point. "You said you'd come back safely. You promised."
He couldn't actually remember ever saying something like that. He knew better to promise such a thing during a war. But Boba clearly thought he had, so something must have been said during their goodbyes.
"K'oyacyi," Boba had called and he had waved in return. Whatever that was, he must have taken it as a promise that he'd return in one piece. Which he mostly was.
"I'm a soldier, Boba. I can hardly promise that."
"Ogir nuarra acyk verd bal jareor," Boba spat back. "And you were being jareor."
Jareor. Kix had used a version of the word, jaro at him. Rex had used the actual word once, spat it at him with such vehemence. Rex never spoke a word against his officers, so he knew that the other man had been angry. He had immediately clammed up after that, until Anakin had ordered that he tell him what it meant. Suicidal.
He pulled his son close to him, running his fingers through the silky hair. The boy struggled at first, but soon settled against him. "I'm not suicidal, Boba," he reassured the boy. "I'm going to always do my best to come back to you and Padmé, but I'm never going to ask my men to do something that I wouldn't do myself. But I'm not suicidal."
The boy sniffled slightly. "You can't die too," Boba muttered, his hands gripping his tunic.
Anakin closed his eyes, trying to not think about how much of an idiot he had been. Of course Boba had been worried. It was the same way he had felt as a child when his mother would get sent to do dangerous things for Watto, including the time he sent her to trade with the Jawas for some parts and he had been left on his own in the city for nearly a week. He had been so cruel to her when she had returned, but only because he had been so terrified he would never see her again.
He kissed the crown of his son's head and held him tight, not letting go until Padmé fetched them for dinner.
Translations
Vaabir gar ganar jaro? - Do you have a death wish?
Su cuy'gar! - "Hello!"; literally: "So you're still alive."
Mir'osik - something undesirable where your brains ought to be, i.e. "Shit for brains"
Kaysh mirsh solus - "He's an idiot"; literally: "His brain cells are lonely.
Di'kut - idiot, useless - lit. Someone who forgets to put their pants on
Nar'sheb - shove it, but stronger
Jareor - recklessly risk your life, act suicidally, foolish, not brave
Jaro - death wish, insane act of reckless stupidity
Ogir nuarra acyk verd bal jareor - There's a difference between being a soldier and being suicidal
