Chapter 41 – Bonding

DISCLAIMER: We do not own Star Wars or any of the characters in it, though we wish we did. xD

Author's Note: In which Anakin and Ahsoka get unexpected news, and Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka get a moment of peace together. Enjoy this little bit of fluff as a reprieve before things get worse. :')

~ Amina Gila

"She's dead." Dooku's words hang heavily in the air, and Ahsoka finds it difficult to understand what she's hearing. It doesn't make any sense.

"What happened?" Anakin reacts first, expression grim. From the look on his face, it's clear that he already recognizes the implications.

The Count hesitates, expression somber. "I think Sidious ordered Offee there personally. Mina Bonteri was murdered in her sleep. You two should go visit her son. Give him my condolences, while I prepare a statement. The Senate voted that the Republic be condemned for its use of the clone slave army. Bonteri's death will be blamed on the Republic."

"At least we won't lose too much from this tragedy," Anakin murmurs, turning and gesturing to her. "Come on, Snips. Let's go pay Lux a visit."

He remains silent on the way there, and Ahsoka wishes that she was able to better gauge his mental status. Ever since he talked to Padme yesterday evening, he's been quiet and moody, something weighing heavily on him. It's hard for him to be apart from her for so long, Ahsoka knows, and she wishes there was a way for her to help him.

Lux is sitting on a bench under one of the trees in his backyard when they get there. He doesn't look up, head bowed, as he stares fixedly at the ground. "I'm so sorry, Lux," Ahsoka whispers, taking a few steps closer to him. She intuitively understands that Anakin would prefer not to talk. Besides, when they came here last, Anakin was with Dooku while she had spent the time with Lux. They're not friends exactly, not yet – they haven't known each other long enough – but they are more than simple acquaintances.

The teenager switches, finally raising his head to look at them. His eyes are distant and bloodshot, and she can see his exhaustion clearly. "It wasn't your fault," he replies numbly.

Ahsoka exhales slowly, sitting down next to him, feeling a sharp pang of guilt from Anakin through their bond. He blames himself then. Unsurprising. If not for his – their – attempts to help the clones, this might never have happened. They would never have realized that Padme and Siri had come, and hopefully, no one would have realized Padme had been in contact with Mina. Or maybe not. Padme could well have – foolishly – related everything to Sidious herself.

After a long moment, Anakin moves to sit next to Lux, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I cannot relate to your pain," he says, voice quiet, soothing, "But I do know that I would burn the galaxy itself to the ground if something happened to my mother." It is not a very reassuring admission, at least not for Ahsoka, but then again, she isn't the one who lost a parent.

She can feel grief and sorrow flare into the Force from Lux, so she moves closer, offering him her silent, unyielding support. "Why did this happen?" he asks, voice lost and hopeless. "What did – what did she do to deserve this?!"

"Nothing," Ahsoka says firmly. "She did nothing to deserve this, but there will always be people who seek to silence the voice of truth. She spoke out against the use of clones, and the Republic killed her for it. It would look really bad on them to be violating their own anti-slavery laws. Oh, and Count Dooku sends his condolences," she adds, as an afterthought.

Anakin nods. "He's planning to speak out against the Republic's actions and fulfil your mother's last request by condemning the use of clones."

Lux sighs heavily. "I wish it felt like it was worth it," he mumbles, rubbing his hands over his face. Ahsoka wraps an arm around his shoulders without a second thought; it's always been difficult for her to feel others in pain, and that's especially true now that she's with Anakin. It's strange – and more than a little amusing – that a Sith has been able to teach her such compassion.

A few leaves fall from the tree above them, and as they drift to the ground, Ahsoka dimly notes how much they resemble falling tears. It's as if the Force itself is crying for the loss of one of the few people courageous enough to stand up for what is right. And the pain that she can feel from Lux is one that she herself is all too familiar with. She doesn't question that she belongs at Anakin's side, and she doesn't regret giving in to the Dark Side. What she does regret is the war, the killing. It's necessary, she knows, but she doesn't have to like it. She was raised as a Jedi, unlike Anakin, and she will never find enjoyment in the deaths of others.

"Me too," she whispers, squeezing Lux. "Me too."

"If you ever need or want our help, I'll give you my comm frequency." Anakin's voice is quiet, as if he is unwilling to break the tentative peace and shared mourning.

Lux nods his thanks – they can both feel his gratitude – and they sit there together, watching the falling leaves drift to the ground around them.

**w**

Everything is hazy, as if it's from an old holorecording, but Anakin can still make out the distinct image of his mother. She's walking through the massive halls of a large building, masked individuals on either side of her. She's a prisoner, and that realization makes his blood boil with outrage. Doors slide open, and Shmi steps into the center of a room. The Council chambers.

It has been many years since Anakin has been there to observe the beauty of the Jedi Temple – so what if it's the home of the enemy? He can still admire the architecture – but he recognizes it all the same. What are the Jedi doing to his mother?! How dare they treat her in such a manner? She is a far better person than any of them can or will ever be. He rages silently, wishing that he could jump into the vision – for it's definitely a vision – and slaughter all the Jedi where they stand for daring to lay a hand on his mother.

Suddenly, the Force ripples ominously, and an explosion shakes the Temple, the Council chambers going up in a billow of debris and flames. There's no way anyone could survive that, Anakin knows, and he jolts awake with a strangled scream, chest heaving.

No. Nonono. He hasn't had a vision like this in so long. He has nightmares all the time, but from the way the Force is humming around him, he… knows. Force, please. Not his mother. He can't lose her. She's the one person who he's always had, the one person who has always protected and supported him. Could the Force really be so cruel as to take her from him? But he has a warning now. He has seen what can – and maybe will – happen. He doesn't know what to do, how to react to this, and he stumbles shakily from his bed, momentarily confused by his surroundings before he remembers that they're staying on Raxus.

Obi-Wan is probably here now; he was supposed to be arriving in the middle of the night, and a look at the chrono tells Anakin that it's nearing dawn. His heart is pounding, and he doesn't want to go back to sleep, too scared of the "what ifs" to close his eyes. The mansion is quiet, dark, and Anakin reaches out through the Force, feeling Obi-Wan's presence close and soothing, though dim with sleep. Ahsoka is… awake and heading towards him. Somehow, he isn't surprised that she sensed his turmoil. Obi-Wan would have too, if not for the fact that he's probably exhausted.

He opens the door of his room, slipping into the hallway as the shadowy figure of a Togruta steps in front of him. "Are you okay?" Ahsoka whispers, worried blue eyes staring up at him.

Anakin considers lying, but he's shaking so much that he would betray himself; Ahsoka wouldn't even need to call him out on it. "I – I don't know," he admits finally, heaving a defeated sigh. It's probably immature and pathetic for him to want to be near Obi-Wan right now, but he does. He hates how he feels like a child who can't handle himself, crawling into his parents' bed in the night because of imagined fears.

Ahsoka studies him with an assessing gaze that is almost unnerving before reaching out and grabbing his wrist, his prosthetic one, and tugging him in the direction of Obi-Wan's room. "Nightmare?" she asks on the way.

He shudders. "Vision," he corrects, choking on air as his mind conjures up the images of the Council chambers – and his mother – being reduced to smoke and ash. Ahsoka pokes Obi-Wan awake through her bond with him – Anakin can feel it – so the erstwhile Jedi is awake when they get there.

He's not upset by their presences, even if he does look exhausted still. He simply lets them inside, motioning for them to sit on the bed with him. It is a large bed, large enough for all three of them, so Anakin happily obliges, grateful to be this close to Obi-Wan again. They haven't had time to themselves like this in far too long, what with the war and all. Usually, any moments of leisure are spent in tense apprehension for the next attack or when they're so exhausted they can hardly move.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan inquires, leaning back against the headboard.

Anakin's breath hitches, and he squeezes his eyes closed, forcing the words out. "I – I had a vision," he relates, mouth dry. "I – the Jedi had arrested my mother for some reason, a-and the Council chambers were destroyed with her in them. I don't – I don't know what it means, but I… I can't lose her."

Obi-Wan beckons to him, and he doesn't hesitate, shifting across the blankets so he can curl by the elder man's side, wrapping his arms around him, letting his presence soothe the all-encompassing terror. Ahsoka crawls to his other side, burying herself against him, clinging as if she's trying to merge them together forever. Here, surrounded by the warmth and affection of two of the people he loves more than life itself, Anakin finds that the fear isn't quite so overwhelming.

"We'll figure something out," Obi-Wan promises, running a hand through Anakin's hair gently and holding him close. "We can meditate on it in the morning, if you wish, and we can take precautions. Perhaps the time has come to free your mother from Sidious. As soon as we get a chance, we should take it. If it's what both of you want," he adds.

"Yes," Anakin breathes out. "Please."

Ahsoka remains silent, fingers stroking up and down his arm, montrals digging into his shoulder. He doesn't mind though, as long as she's comfortable. Somehow, he gets the feeling that she already carried out her threat to tell Obi-Wan what she discovered about his opinion of himself. He can't bring himself to feel anything other than resignation at the prospect.

As if catching the direction of his thoughts, Obi-Wan speaks up again. "There's something else we do need to talk about when you're ready. We don't have to do it tonight, of course."

"I'm not sure I'll be sleeping anymore anyways," he admits ruefully. He doesn't want to admit to how much Obi-Wan's touch grounds him. It's – the more they interact, the deeper their bond becomes, and Anakin wonders sometimes how he survived so long without Obi-Wan. He gives him a sense of clarity, of peace, of security, and there will always be a part of him which mourns the opportunities and time they lost.

"Very well." Obi-Wan's voice is carefully neutral, a sure sign that he's hiding – or concealing – some emotion. He's not angry; he's never had a hard time showing his anger – if he's upset, he seems to like making sure that the other person or people know it – and besides, Anakin doesn't know why he would be angry.

"Ahsoka told me that you hate yourself." There's nothing judgmental in his tone. It's simply a statement of facts. "Why? Can you tell me?" He's not condemning. He genuinely wants to know, to understand.

That is a surprisingly difficult question to answer, maybe because he hasn't wanted to think about it and putting his thoughts into words is painful. But the moment he actually takes a mental step back to think, the answers come rushing forth. "I'm – I'm doing everything against what Mom taught me," he confesses, looking down. It feels physically painful, as if the words are being ripped from him through brute force. "It's – I always wanted to help people… when I was a child. I did it too, even if it hurt me. And now?" He scoffs, bitter self-loathing tearing at him. "I do the opposite now."

Obi-Wan lets out a tired-sounding breath, reaching down to pull the blankets up over them, tucking them in as best he can before wrapping his arm around Anakin once more. "At least you're capable of recognizing it," he offers. "For anyone who does wrong, the hardest part is accepting how much wrong they're doing."

"It never used to be like this," he mumbles, dropping his head onto Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"When you were younger, you did what you had to do to survive," Obi-Wan reminds him. "Now that the war is going on, your objectives are… bigger, meaning that the lives you take are not explicitly ordered by Sidious. You feel more responsible for them."

That… actually makes a lot of sense. He's noticed how much darker he's begun to feel, how invincible during battle, how thrilling he finds it to kill and rampage his way through anyone who stands before him. "I don't want to be like this," he asserts shakily, tears blurring his gaze. "I don't – I don't want to lose myself entirely the way Sidious wants me to."

It's only this bad because he's fighting against the Republic, as opposed to fighting for it. He could embrace the Dark Side without fear or remorse if he was only destroying droids. Mowing down clones, day after day, was never what he thought he would have to do. The Jedi he doesn't mind; they can at least fight back, but the clones? Their blasters are meaningless to him. By the time they can aim at him, he's already gone, moving as if he is a literal extension of the Force.

"We won't let you go, Skyguy," Ahsoka promises, speaking for the first time. She was so quiet, he would have thought her sleeping if not for the activeness of her Force signature. She presses closer to him, burrowing into his side.

"You need to let us help you," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Let us in. Tell us how you feel. The war won't be easy on anyone. You need time to destress. Take a day off and relax: no training, no sparring, nothing resembling what you do on the battlefield."

It honestly doesn't sound like it would even work, but Anakin doesn't say so. Obi-Wan means well; he's trying to help, and Anakin wishes that he could, though it feels hopeless. Sometimes, he doesn't think there's anything that can help him anymore, the memory of when he embraced the Light Side nothing more than a wistful fantasy from another lifetime altogether. What he needs most is to escape Sidious so he can try to piece back together whatever remains of his broken – breaking – self.

"We'll be fine as long as we stay together." Obi-Wan's words echo slightly in the Force, as if it's trying to confirm them, assure him of the validity of them. They ring hollow though, as if they're another empty, meaningless promise.

Don't let me go, Anakin thinks desperately to the two, though he doesn't say it. To do so would be to admit to a weakness he's ashamed of having. Giving voice to his yearning for physical contact isn't something he's willing to do, because it could become one more thing Sidious holds over him. If he lost the ability to get comfort from it, he thinks he might lose himself entirely.

The longer he stays, the more whatever made him a genuinely good person – the person that Ahsoka and Padme insist is still there – disappears, vanishing through his fingers like mist. He fears the day when he forgets altogether what it means to love, to cherish, to care. He fears breaking down entirely and giving in to his Master, letting him rule and possess him as if he's no better than any other slave. He fears – he fears becoming a monster, who has lost every shred of humanity. He fears becoming Darth Vader in its entirety.

But he doesn't know how to say any of that, how to put his deepest thoughts and fears into words so he remains silent, knowing that, for now, he will be content to stay here with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka so close. He's sorely missed moments like these, where they have time to be together without any other pressing obligations or duties.

Surrounded by the comfort and warmth of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, he feels exhaustion catching up to him, threatening to drag him back down into sleep's embrace. He struggles against it, too afraid to give in lest he see his mother die yet again. Obi-Wan reaches out through their bond, entwining their Force signatures together. "Get some rest, Anakin," he whispers, nudging Anakin to lay down entirely, lying down beside him, still holding him close.

Ahsoka throws her arm around Anakin's waist, cuddling next to him. She doesn't like heat as much as he does, but she clearly doesn't mind being so close to him when his body radiates heat far more than most human's. Maybe it's because he's half-Force. Who knows? It's not as if it matters anyway.

"Stop thinking," Ahsoka grumbles, poking him in the ribs.

"Fine." Anakin can feel Obi-Wan's smile at the grumpiness in his voice, even if the elder doesn't actually say anything. He listens to Ahsoka, banishing dark thoughts from his mind as he focuses on the even breathing of two of his best friends. This is where he wants to be, and with them right here, he's safe.

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