Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. (Except for six – no, seven – no, eight novels, five soundtracks, four calendars, three lightsabers, two posters, and a Darth Vader M&M in a fir tree.)
I apologize in advance to any HSM2 fans.
Thanks to those who reviewed – especially those who have been faithfully reviewing each chapter. Sorry for the shortness of this one, but it was all I could manage in one night.
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When Anakin awoke the next morning, he felt much better physically than he had in the last several days. No headache, no achy limbs, no sore throat, no fever – well, almost none anyway. He had some lingering congestion, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been.
If only his mind felt as good as his body. He was still hurting over the issues that had been resurrected last night, and he realized that he was finally going to have to think them through, to deal with them in some way.
Luckily, he had plenty of time for thinking over serious issues. Despite the fact that he felt all right physically, Angela insisted that he take it easy – "easy" being defined as lying on the couch all day, the same as he had been doing for the last several days. Due to his residual congestion and low fever, Angela was convinced that if he didn't sleep all day, drink at least one glass of water every hour, and remain on a steady diet of chicken noodle soup, he would certainly relapse. Anakin didn't feel he was in any position to argue with her, so he kept his mouth shut and did as he was told.
The highlight of his day was taking a long, hot shower. It relaxed his muscles and loosened his congestion and just made him feel better about everything in general. He felt good enough afterwards that he just didn't want to bring his spirits low again by tackling the difficult memories that troubled his spirit, so he shoved them into a dark corner of his mind, just as he had done so many times before; only this time, he knew they wouldn't stay hidden for long. He had been too shaken by what he had seen last night to forget these problems, and now he wasn't even sure he wanted to. He needed to bring resolution to the events of two and a half years ago.
But not immediately. First, he was going to try to spend at least part of the day being cheerful – or at least not depressed. He lay on the couch, staring at the kriss-muss tree and wondering if they actually had some way of making it grow in their house or if they had cut it and simply had it set up there in the corner. They'd probably cut it; it seemed unlikely that they'd have one growing inside. What if it got too big? Anakin momentarily smiled at the idea of the tree growing so tall that it pushed a hole through the ceiling, with the people who had planted it wondering why they hadn't though of that.
Anakin gazed at the glowing lights and the dazzling array of objects that had been hung from the branches, wondering at the time and effort that must have gone into setting up the display. He felt his head grow heavy, and rested it on his pillow, than allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
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When Anakin woke again, it was mid-afternoon. He knew it was time to decide how he would handle the issues from his past. Reluctantly, he brought them back out into the light. After much soul-searching, he decided that these were things he could not keep secret any longer, no matter what the consequences. After all, if this family, in an entirely different galaxy, was easily able to obtain copies of those recordings, anyone from his galaxy surely could! He sighed. He had a lot to talk with Obi-wan about when he got back.
He spent most of the rest of the afternoon brooding. Once the kids were home, Angela came in to see how he was doing. A slight smile played across her lips as she asked if he would like to join the family for dinner. He nodded, his own face sober. Angela put her hands on her hips.
"I know what will get a smile out of you," she said. She practically yanked him off the sofa and marched him over to the mirror in the refresher.
"Look," she commanded, turning him so he could see his reflection from and angle.
Anakin wasn't sure whether to laugh or feel embarrassed. He'd slept on his wet hair, and now half of it lay exactly as it was supposed to and the other half bent and stuck out at crazy angles, giving Anakin a rather ridiculous appearance. He cracked a sheepish smile and began frantically dragging his fingers through his hair, trying to make it lay down flat. Even the comb Angela offered him did little to help, and he eventually ended up dousing it with water again; that calmed it down a little.
Dinner that night was something called "cass-a-roll," a mixture of meat and vegetables in some kind of sauce. Parts of it were chewy, but it was still too mushy for Anakin's taste. He nearly refused when offered dessert – which was "ice cream," another food Anakin had never tasted before – but ended up being glad he tried it. It did have a soft texture, but its taste was sweet and creamy and cold. It was comforting, somehow.
Unfortunately, that was the last good thing that happened during the entirety of the altogether rather mediocre day. After dinner, Jamie gleefully reminded everyone that it was her turn to use the TV that night. When they left the table and filed into the living room, she rummaged through a cabinet full of old-fashioned video discs and even older-fashioned videorecordings stored in medium-sized black boxes. It was one of these that she grabbed and put into the recording playback device.
The recording turned out to be a horror story called "High School Musical 2." From beginning to end, it was a nightmarish mixture of sappy songs, weird dancing, and waaaay too much pink. Anakin hadn't thought Jamie seemed like the horror type, but she didn't even seem scared; in fact, she seemed to be enjoying it. Anakin wasn't truly frightened, either, but he certainly was disturbed.
He fell asleep that night dreaming that he was being chased by fluffy pink things that whined, "You are the music in me," over and over again.
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I don't own High School Musical 1 or 2 or any of the songs therein; I just like to make fun of them.
