When he ran out of breath, he stopped screaming. There was no point, he couldn't change what he had done. He had killed her.

"Ahsoka, I'm sorry," he told no one. No one alive, anyway. "This is all my fault. I did this to you. I did this." He looked up at the scanner again and her picture stared at him on the screen. It was the ultimate proof.

What had she thought as she had fallen down the shaft? She had laid here, probably only hours ago, as she had bled out. What ran through her head? Did she know that it would happen? Did she have the same dreams that he did, when no one was there to see her? Did Anakin kill her in her sleep too?

She had tried to warn him. She had explained it to him, all but laid it bare for him to understand, and he still hadn't realized. Did Ahsoka know that Anakin didn't know, or did she think that Anakin knew who she was and that he had killed her anyway?

He had killed her. His mind couldn't wrap around the idea, it wouldn't accept the truth even though his heart already had. Anakin had so many questions now. How had Ahsoka even gotten into the Separatist Army? What made her go Dark, and how was she able to control it to still kill the Chancellor without betraying him until the last second? How did the Sith not realized what she was doing? Had she fallen, or had she tried to infiltrate the Sith because she wanted to betray him?

If only he could see her again and beg for her to forgive him. If only he could ask her what had happened, if only he had known, he never would have tried to kill her.

Or would he? Had Sideous twisted him so deep into his grasp that he would have killed her even if he had known?

He wanted to go back, and to tell Ahsoka that he was in danger, from Pal-from Sideous, that he wasn't himself, and to run, not fight him. Then once he had realized, he could come back here and find her and everything would be okay again, but he couldn't. He couldn't because he had caught up with her while she had fled, and he had tried to kill her. After everything they had been through, after all she had survived, she had fallen at his own hands. It was his fault. He did this.

Anakin felt the hole inside him grow, the hole Ahsoka used to fill. So long ago, back when he hadn't been a Knight, when he hadn't been her master, he thought that he could never have the capacity to care for a Padawan. He thought a child at his side would slow him down. He didn't know that Ahsoka would only ever teach him, build him up and trust him, after she had worked out the kinks. Once she had come into her own, they weren't just Master and Padawan, they were partners, they were friends. Ahsoka had always had his back, even when he had tried to tell her not to. Anakin had even ordered Ahsoka not to go on the Citadel mission, and she still came. He used to think that he didn't want a Padawan.

The truth was he didn't deserve a Padawan. He didn't deserve to have someone at his side, to have someone who trusted him that much. He didn't deserve to be trusted, or protected, or fought for, or loved. He was too broken, shattered into too many pieces, to deserve that kind of loyalty, that kind of friend.

He pulled his glove off and he clasped her Padawan chain in his hand, clinging the last piece of Ahsoka he had left. I was wrong, Ahsoka, he thought. You shouldn't have trusted me. Why did you trust me? Why did you come back when you knew all I would do was hurt you?

Anakin would have given nearly anything in that moment for an answer, a whisper, even the slightest sign that she was there, listening, somehow. He didn't care if she hated him, not now. At least if she hated him, then she would be alive enough to hate him. At least she would be alive. A world where Ahsoka hated him was better than a world without her in it. A world where he had killed her.

It was then, off in the distance, he finally felt her, for the first time. He looked up, and although it was weak, it was there. Her Force signature, he realized. It's joined with the Cosmic Force. She's not all gone.

"Ahsoka?" He asked, although he could only feel her, and not see her. There was no response, but the more he focused on her presence, the steadier it got. It was like a fire he could see from a distance, small, not very clear, and somewhat weak, but it was there.

Where was 'there'? He could tell that it was somewhere, but he could only sense its direction. Anakin didn't understand much about the Cosmic Force, since when it was taught to him his mind had wandered off. He did that a lot during his first years as a Jedi. He wished he had paid more attention, then maybe he could feel Ahsoka more clearly.

Anakin didn't know if the Cosmic Force knew anything about location, but it was very clearly coming from somewhere into the thick of the city, on the level that he was on. He would probably never get another chance to seek Ahsoka out so he abandoned the place Ahsoka had died and followed her Light.

The problem with only having a direction to go off of was that the streets didn't always give you a straight route. Anakin ran into dead ends twice, but he finally was led to a building in the thinner part of the city. It was some kind of residence space from what Anakin could see.

Why did you lead me here? He asked her presence, which was stronger here. What's inside? What do you want me to see?

Again, there was no answer from the other side, but Ahsoka's Light was still coming from somewhere in there, upstairs. It did not dim nor shift, so Anakin went inside. If Ahsoka had led him here, there must be a reason.

Most everyone was already out to work. There was someone on the third floor, but that was it. Are they important?

They must have been because Ahsoka was guiding him there. Maybe it was a Force-sensitive that they had missed. Kind of like Anakin himself, they would need to be trained, or at least taught how to control the Force. Just like Obi-Wan did for me.

Anakin paused. Ahsoka, I can't do that. Not after what happened to you. I can't do that again. I can't risk hurting someone else the way I hurt you.

Still, she persisted, and her Light grew ever stronger as he got closer. It even led him right to the door of the person's house.

Anakin closed his eyes. Only for you, Snips.

He knocked.

When the door slid open, a figure was standing behind it. A female.

She was weak. She looked as if she had just been poisoned and hurt. Her shirt was ripped and her midsection was showing. Her veins were dark, especially closer to her heart. She looked very muscular as if she had been training for something important, but she had almost no body fat. Strong as she was, you got the feeling that she wouldn't survive if she was left in the cold for too long.

Her face was worse. Her eyes were tired, and faint circles could be seen if you looked hard enough. Her complexion was pale, very pale, but red at the same time. She looked as though she had a fever and a cold. Her entire stature screamed that she was sick, although from what was uncertain.

Anakin didn't see any of this, though. He didn't see the flaws in her, didn't see the weakness. He didn't even truly see the dull red bandage that wrapped around her stomach. He did see her eyes, though, but in a different way than we would have seen them.

He saw their color. Tired and strained as they were, her eyes were a brilliant blue and popped out amidst her dull appearance. It was a blue that Anakin recognized immediately, and their color rendered him speechless, but something was different.

Her eyes were afraid.

They recoiled once they saw him, and Anakin could see all of her fears through them. She was scared that he was disappointed. She was scared that she didn't know the person in front of her anymore. She was scared that he would be angry, that she had failed him.

But between you and me, she had every reason to be afraid, for Ahsoka hadn't led Anakin to someone at all.

Ahsoka was there.

And it was true, she was afraid. She was scared that Anakin didn't care about her anymore. In fact, she was almost sure of it. She was sure that once Anakin realized the truth, once he saw her wound, he would yell at her, push her to the ground, and shout about how she had betrayed him. She was sure that he was furious that she had helped the Separatists and fought against the Republic and against the Jedi for so long. She was sure that he was disappointed in her, in that she hadn't told him about her plan. She had lied to him for months, of course, he would hate her. She braced herself, steeling herself for the wrath that was going to come from the man who had been her master. The man she had betrayed.

Or worse, a possibility which was snaking around in the back of her mind, he wouldn't care. He would walk away without saying a word, without the slightest emotion. He would tell the Jedi about what she had done with no concern as to what would happen to her. She would mean nothing to him anymore. Why would she?

She wanted to look away, to look down and not see the hate in Anakin's face, but she couldn't. All she could do was stare at him and wait for the consequence of her betrayal.

But it never came. The heartbreaking blow she expected never came.

Anakin didn't care about what she had done. Not anymore. All he knew, at that moment, was that she was there.

He didn't yell. He didn't scream or shout at her. He walked to her, and Ahsoka closed her eyes and clenched herself up for the pain that wasn't coming. Anakin didn't hit her. All he could do was wrap his arms around her, holding her close so she couldn't evaporate. All he could say was two words.

"You're alive..."

Ahsoka stood stiff and still until the tears started slipping out of her eyes. She wilted into Anakin and finally returned the hug she didn't think she would ever receive. Anakin wasn't Sideous. He wasn't going to punish her, hurt her, shout at her, or walk away from her. All the hate she expected, it wasn't there. For the first time in a year, she felt hope, just the smallest, slimmest glimmer of hope that maybe, someday, she could be forgiven.

The words in her mind started spilling from her mouth. "I'm sorry!" She whispered into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she couldn't stop saying it. It was the only coherent thought she had. Over and over, she could only say 'I'm sorry'.

When Anakin heard her through her tears, he started crying with her. All Jedi instincts in him to not show emotion were abandoned. He held her tighter, praying that she wasn't going to disappear, or die like in his dreams.

Ahsoka didn't stop apologizing, couldn't stop, but Anakin interrupted her. "So am I," he told her through tears, and only then did she stop. "So am I, Ahsoka." Both of them were silent for a moment, with the only sound they heard was their own breath. For Anakin, just saying her name freely lifted twenty kilos off his shoulders. Knowing that she was okay gave him hope that everything was going to be okay. Ahsoka rested, finally, and didn't move away from the only positive human touch she had experienced in twelve months. In those seconds, they just let themselves heal. Not as a Jedi, not as an Inquisitor, just as themselves.

They were broken,

together.