Closer Than Brothers
Author's Note: I wondered how Anakin and Ahsoka felt after Obi-Wan faked his death in the Deception arc, so I wrote this little one-shot. For me, it's canon. You don't have to agree, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. :P
~ Amina Gila
Ahsoka Tano rolls over, sighing quietly. Sleep just won't come tonight. Finally, she gives up, slipping out of her bed and entering the main room. Just as she'd expected, her master is awake. Anakin Skywalker doesn't move from his place next to the window when she steps into the room. "You should be sleeping," she tells him quietly.
"Mmm hmm. So should you," he replies, turning to look at her. She studies his face in the dim light streaming through the window from the traffic outside. He looks terrible, and she doubts he's gotten any sleep at all over the past two nights since Obi-Wan died.
"I couldn't sleep," she murmurs, walking closer.
"Me either." He turns away, staring at the passing traffic blankly.
"When was the last time you slept?" Ahsoka demands, crossing her arms. He can't simply neglect himself because times are hard.
He shrugs half-heartedly but doesn't reply. "You can't just stop taking care of yourself, Skyguy," she reminds him. There's plenty more she could say but won't because she knows it won't help.
Anakin only sighs. He expression retains a hint of anguish which she doubts will fade anytime soon. "I never had a father," he states suddenly, glancing at her before refocusing outside. She moves to stand next to him, joining him in staring at the passing traffic. There's so many people going about their lives, oblivious or uncaring to the tragedy which has transpired. "I don't mean that I didn't know him," he continues, "I mean that I physically don't have one."
Ahsoka listens attentively. Anakin rarely talks about himself, so she's eager to listen to whatever he is willing to share. "How is that possible?" she asks curiously.
He shrugs again. "That's why they call me the Chosen One. It's because the Force itself decided I should be born." He pauses, slowly inhaling. Through the Force, she can still acutely feel his pain. "There was Qui-Gon… but then – then there was Obi-Wan." She pretends not to notice that he chokes up on the name.
"It was difficult at first – adjusting to life at the Temple, I mean. We didn't always get along," he murmurs, obviously getting lost in his memories. "I thought he was cold and aloof, but that changed with time. He let me stay with him in the first months when I couldn't sleep from nightmares or homesickness." Anakin gives her a sideways look. "I didn't really understand the idea of letting emotions go." And still don't. The words are left unspoken, hanging between them.
He shifts, eyes becoming distant for a moment before he keeps talking. "He helped me so much, more than I ever realized. He was – he was the only father I ever had." His fingers clench on the window frame, but he makes no move to wipe away his tears or even pretend he's not crying. Ahsoka moves closer, not knowing what she could even say to comfort him. She's never had to deal with grieving people, and for Anakin, in particular, it seems so much deeper, almost as though part of him was actually broken when Obi-Wan died.
After a moment's hesitation, she slips an arm around him, offering comfort in the only way she knows how. "We became extremely close," Anakin confesses, voice shaking. "Far closer than I thought possible. He was – we – we were closer than brothers, and I don't know how I can move on without him." She knew that, of course. Someone would have to be both blind and completely ignorant not to have seen how important Anakin and Obi-Wan were to one another. She was often surprised that none of the other Jedi said anything about it.
Anakin turns his head away, a shudder running through his body. "It should have been me." His voice is barely above a whisper. "It shouldn't have been him."
Ahsoka swallows the lump in her throat. It hurt her seeing him in so much pain. She's hurting too – Obi-Wan was like an uncle to her, but her master's pain is so much stronger. She says nothing, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. He wraps his arm around her in turn, crying quietly.
"Your bond with him was very strong," she murmurs quietly after a few minutes pass in silence. "I think – that if anyone could cheat death and find a way back it would be Master Obi-Wan. He could still come back." It's wishful thinking. She knows that he can't come back because he's dead, but she desperately hopes he can for Anakin's sake.
"You can't be serious," mutters Anakin, swiping a hand across his face. "He – he's dead, and he's not coming back." A choked sob escapes him. "I can't go on without him. Whenever I struggled, he always helped me, and this isn't something I can get through alone." Ahsoka bites her lip, hugging him even tighter, as the tears glistening in her eyes fall down her face.
"He was so much better than me," Anakin continues, words only partially audible. He doesn't ever say things like this to her, and he's only doing it know because the pain and grief are too strong for him to handle alone. "I could have saved him. I should have saved him. I always have, until now – and – it's my fault. I could have done something differently, and he'd still be here."
"Skyguy, stop," hisses Ahsoka, tipping her head to glare at him, though it's probably not very effective because of her tears. "He wouldn't want you to say things like that. You can't blame yourself for something you couldn't have helped."
"But I should have!" he practically wails. "What good is my training if I couldn't even protect him? I can't – I can't even explain how I feel now that he's –" His chokes on the last word and muffles a sob.
"I should leave the Order," he mumbles, brushing away his tears. "I would, if not for you. I'm not going to leave you."
Ahsoka finds herself feeling far more touched than she'd expected. She wipes her tears before pulling Anakin away from the window towards the couch. He sinks onto it with a sigh, burying his face in his hands. She can feel his grief permeating the room, and she finds herself being mildly surprised that everyone else can't feel it also. It's so overpowering, it nearly takes her breath away. She scoots closer to him, resting an arm on his back comfortingly.
"Everything's gonna be okay eventually, Skyguy," she murmurs, though she doubts that will be true. She's never ever seen Anakin cry before. It's the first – and probably the last – time she will, but his pain is far too deep for him to heal.
A mirthless half-laugh, half-sob escapes him. "No. 'S not going to be okay, Snips," he replies, sounding so lost that she almost wants to cry for him now. "He wasn't supposed to leave me." For a moment, she's not even sure if he really spoke until he tips his head to glance at her, undried tears reflecting the light from the window. He looks vulnerable and young in a way she can't quite explain, but then again, he is young. So is she. The war has changed them both, forcing them to grow up quickly.
"I can't keep fighting without him," he continues somberly, voice fairly steady. "I can ask the Council to let us do something else, but I can't –" He cuts himself off and shakes his head.
"What would you do if you left the Order?" she prods gently, drying the last of her tears.
"I –" he seems surprised by the question as through he had never even considered it. "I don't know. I'll find something to do. I could be a bodyguard or pilot or something for Senator Amidala, I suppose."
Though he's clearly trying to keep his tone level, he doesn't quite hide the hint of fondness when he says the name. She always knew there was something between them. "If you really want to leave, I'll go with you." She doesn't even know why she says it, except that she can't really imagine going back to the war as though nothing happened at all. If Anakin wants to leave, she doesn't want to be the reason he stays, making himself even more miserable.
"I – thanks, Snips," he murmurs, sitting up and resting his head against the back of the couch. "I'll think about it."
They sit in a silence which contains a little less grief than it did before. Anakin stares out the window, expression distant. Finally, Ahsoka can't take the quiet anymore. She wants to say something – anything – to take their minds off the circumstances around them. "I love you, Master. You know that, right?"
Anakin exhales, giving her a shaky smile, though he's still clearly struggling to get himself under control again. "Yes, I do, and I love you too. You're like my sister." She can't think of anything to say to that, so she wraps her arms around him again and rests her head on his shoulder, letting him feel her love for him. Things won't be alright in the morning; they won't be alright for a long time, but they will improve. They have to, even if both of them come out the other side with irreparable damage. Ahsoka refuses to lose Anakin. They still have each other, so she silently promises to do whatever she must to help him recover.