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Chapter 2: The Search, The News, The Room
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The gray cement walls are crumbling and bare save for the cracks that had been haphazardly spackled over with cheap paint. The "kitchen" came with a mini-fridge that was, at the moment, empty, save for some bread and a package of overripe veggies; a stove with only two working burners; an oven that she had made the mistake of using once, and only once; and a sink with a broken faucet that grudgingly drizzled out cold water, on a good day. In the opposite corner of the room there was a toilet, and a shower head with water pressure so bad that some days it was less stressful to just fill a bucket with water and dump it over herself. The room's only window didn't shut all the way, and faced an alley that, due to the skyscraper that towered over the building, was dark at all hours of the day.
Look, it's a pit, alright? Ahsoka knows that. But it's hers'…sort of.
The plan, initially had been to hop a transport to her homeworld and find her parents, or at least somebody who knew them. But you needed credits for a ride on a transport, and her account had been frozen as soon as she'd made her decision to leave the Order.
The breakdown of that brilliant scheme had left her stranded, with no plan B, and a smidge—just a smidge—of regret at leaving the Order and more importantly, Anakin behind in the first place. But she had made up her mind and it would be a cold day in Sithhell when she went crawling back with her tail between her legs. Lost, broke, and alone in more ways than one, Ahsoka still had her pride and the lessons her Master—former Master—had taught her. They were enough to make this work. They'd have to be.
All told, spending two nights sleeping on the streets of the Lower Levels of Coruscant hadn't been the worst thing she has ever endured, not even close. But needless to say that it had been a real wake up call as to the harsh reality of what "making it work" was really going to mean. It meant finding a job at the first place that would take her so that she could afford to eat again. It meant talking her new boss, Zeb, into letting her stay in the room above his cantina in exchange for taking rent out of her pay. It meant learning how to grocery shop. How to cook on a barely-functioning stove. How to convince Zeb to not fire her for breaking the hand of that disgusting Zabrak who had groped her. It meant learning that the galaxy was a much, much harder place to be in on her own than she'd ever thought it would be.
But she had done it. Survived. Made her own way, all on her own. And maybe that would mean nothing to the Council, who'd treated her resignation with nothing less than their trademark indifference. Maybe it meant nothing to the gross patrons of the cantina who liked to jeer at her and make lewd gestures while she bussed their tables. But it meant something to Ahsoka. It meant everything.
Which was why she most definitely did not appreciate the disparaging scowl Obi-Wan was giving her room.
How had he even found her, anyway? The whole point of finding a job and a place to live in this section of the Lower Levels was to get as far away from anyone from her old life as possible. And yet here Obi-Wan had come completely out of the blue, knocking on her door all nonchalant and obvious. Like it was no big deal that he had found her in exactly the last place she'd wanted anyone to look.
After nearly half a year of no contact between her and any member of the Order, Ahsoka was sure he didn't come all the way down here to grimace at the exposed wiring along the ceiling. There had to be something important going on. And since he was too busy mentally cataloguing every building code violation in her home to tell her what it was, she'd just have to drag it out of him herself.
"Erm," she began awkwardly. Drumming her fingertips against the wobbly kitchen table they were sitting at. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, Obi-Wan. It's just I have to get up early for my shift tomorrow, so…"
"Right," he said, clearing his throat. "I…This is very difficult. I'm not sure where to begin, exactly—First off, I'm very happy to see you too, Ahsoka. It's been too long, I…I've missed you."
Caught off guard by Obi-Wan's discomposure, Ahsoka took a moment to actually look at her former master's former master. Really look at him.
Even with the dim lighting coming from the single light bulb dangling overhead, she could clearly make out the bags under his eyes. His normally well-kept beard looked scragglier than usual. His clothes were all rumpled as if he had been sleeping in them for a week straight. And his robe hung off his shoulders and bunched at the sleeves. As if he'd recently lost a lot of weight. What in the galaxy was going on to make Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan Kenobi, the dictionary definition of Balance, and the epitome of Jedi-dom neglect himself to this extent?
"Ahsoka," he started again. "Has anyone…been to see you at all?"
She blinked. That was a strange place to begin. "Besides, you? No. Why?"
"You're sure? No one at all?" he pressed. "Have you noticed anyone following you?"
"No," she said. Actually starting to get antsy now. "Obi-Wan you're making me nervous. What's going on?"
"Have you been following the news at all?" he asked. "Do you know about what's been happening with the Chancellor and the senate?"
"You mean do I know that the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic was assassinated in his office a week and a half ago?" Ahsoka snorted. "Yeah, I think I might have caught that."
Obi-Wan tensed.
"Have you heard anything else besides that?"
She shivered, and nodded.
"All that stuff about everything the Chancellor had been planning. H…how he had been using the war to destabilize the Republic. How he'd been playing both sides, leading the Separatists as Darth Sidious the entire time…How…How he was going t-to…"
She can't even bring herself to think that last part, much less voice it. For all that the Jedi had turned their backs on her, they had been her family for the first decade of her life. To think that they could have all just been…annihilated like that. And by the clones, no less. The thought of Rex and Cody and Jesse and…everyone suddenly turning against her like that. It was too much to bear.
"Yes," Obi-Wan said gravely. "But have you heard anything else?"
Her eyes narrowed. Enough with the guessing games. She really did have an early shift tomorrow. Could he just come out and say what it was he wanted to know, already!
"Like what?"
"Like, who may have been behind the Chancellor's assassination?"
Ahsoka shook her head. No. For all the fuss that had been made about the Chancellor's death and the Jedi's subsequent investigation, the Order had been playing things relatively close to the chest. A bone of contention both in the senate, and in the eyes of the general public.
"No."
"Good," Obi-Wan said. But the relief did not reach his eyes.
"Good," he said again. "I didn't want you to have to find out from anyone else…"
"Find out what?" Ahsoka asked. Dread slowly creeping into her heart. Again, she looked over at Obi-Wan. Somehow he looked even more haggard than he had just a few moments ago. Whatever it was that could make Obi-Wan look this drained, this defeated, it had to be something horrible. Something that had to do with…Oh no…oh no…
"Ahsoka," Obi-Wan whispers on the weariest breath that she has ever heard come from him. "It was Anakin who did it."
And before Ahsoka can jump up and yell No, that's impossible! That's crazy! Obi-Wan raises his hand, silently bidding her to sit and hear the full story from him before jumping to conclusions. Years of Temple etiquette compel Ahsoka to obey. But once he's finished—
"No! That's impossible! That's crazy! You're—"
"I didn't want to believe it either, Ahsoka. I wouldn't have, had I not seen the recordings, but—"
"No!"
"Ahsoka, please—"
"No!" she shot up from the table so fast she nearly toppled it over, and retreated to one of the far corners of the room. She clasped her hands over her montrals like a child. Refusing to listen to any more of Obi-Wan's poodoo.
He allows her thirty full seconds to have her tantrum, before coming over to her side and pulling her hands away.
"Ahsoka, listen to me," he begged her. "Please. The Order may be keeping Anakin's Fall from the public for now. But make no mistake, they've been scouring the galaxy for him ever since that night."
"You're scouring the galaxy for him," she cried. "That's why you came here, isn't it? To see if I've seen him. The Jedi sent you to kill him! You're going to—"
He drops her hands as if she'd burned him, and that shuts Ahsoka up faster than if he'd slapped her. And she knows, she knows that once a Jedi turns to the Dark Side, there's nothing that can be done to save them. That for the good of the galaxy a Fallen Jedi has to be destroyed. But this is Anakin. Their Anakin. Her's and his. How can he possibly be okay with having to hunt him down? How can he think she'd help him do it? How—
"I'm not," he said quietly. "I'm not hunting him down. Master Yoda assigned others to do that. He believed I was too…attached to be trusted with such an important task."
He turned his back to her, and went to stand over by the stove. His hands clenching the edges of the stovetop so hard she was afraid it would crack under his grip. Ahsoka felt her stomach drop for the second time that night as the realization suddenly dawned on her.
"You're trying to help him," she whispered.
Obi-Wan went rigid. "Not…not help," he choked.
"There is no helping him," he said in a low, raspy voice. "He's lost."
Ahsoka's frown pulled deeper. "But you don't want the others to find him."
"No."
The word was whispered so faintly Ahsoka almost thought it was just wishful thinking. Obi-Wan's head hung low, as though he could no longer hold it up under the shame of his confliction.
She moved over to him, reaching a hand out to touch his back. "Obi-Wan…"
"Ahsoka," he said, sharply turning around to grip her forearms. "I know what you're going to try to do, and you mustn't. You can't help him."
She opened her mouth to ask how he'd known what she was going to do before she'd even thought it up. But decided to save her breath, because of course he knew. Obi-Wan always knows.
"Bu-but you said," she swallowed thickly. "You said he killed the Chancellor after he finished with K-Kit Fisto and the o-others."
Though she's accepted it, speaking the truth burns Ahsoka's tongue. Obi-Wan nodded.
"So then maybe—"
"Don't go entertaining fantasies, Ahsoka. You aren't a youngling anymore," he said sternly. "You know what happens when a Jedi fully embraces the Dark Side."
Frankly, Ahsoka wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her, or the both of them. But while he may still be trying to bully himself into acceptance, she wasn't going to waste time kidding herself.
"No!" she cried. Resisting the urge to stamp her foot. "I won't accept that! If Anakin got rid of the Chancellor and left Master Windu alive, then there must be some—"
"He's lost, Ahsoka—"
"Only because we haven't found him, yet!"
"We wouldn't even know where to look!"
"We could start with Senator Amidala!"
He clipped his mouth shut and looked away, guiltily. "She's on Corellia," he mumbled.
Ahsoka smirked triumphantly. "So you have been looking for him."
He huffed a sigh, and looked down at the floor. Trapped in his hypocrisy.
"Her's was the first place I checked," he admitted reluctantly. "Right after I got back from Mustafar. Her apartments were vacated when I got there. So I went to see her Chief of Staff who told me that she had left a few days prior to take sabbatical at a resort on Corellia. When they found out, the Council sent a team of seven out there to question her and to see if Anakin was nearby. But they found nothing. Just Padmé there alone, save for her handmaidens."
"You told them," Ahsoka seethed. Feeling betrayed, though she knew she had no right to be angry with Obi-Wan for doing the right thing. And yet…
"No," he said, shamefaced. "They followed me to her office."
He placed his hands on her shoulders, prodding her to look up at him.
"And that's why you can't go looking for him, Ahsoka," he said urgently. "You were his padawan. They're watching you. They'll know if you're in contact with him, or if you've somehow got a clue as to where he might be."
"You really don't want him to be found," she marveled, not quite knowing what to make of all this. "Even after all he's done, you still…"
Obi-Wan closed his eyes mournfully, and let go of her again. "It's better that he stays lost," he said in a small voice. Then straightened up.
"It's late," he said. "I've been here too long. You've got an early shift tomorrow."
Ahsoka nods, and leads him to the door. Before he can pass through, though, a random thought strikes her.
"You're not going back to the Temple, are you?"
He stops mid-step, his face stricken. As if he absolutely cannot believe he could be so transparent.
"They're not exiling you for this, are they?" she asked, suddenly very afraid for him.
At the end of the day, Ahsoka's glad she left the Order. For a lot of reasons, not just because of what happened with Barriss and the trial. But Obi-Wan couldn't leave. Being a Jedi was his entire life. He wasn't just a Jedi; he was The Jedi. They couldn't kick him out. The Order meant everything to him.
"No," he said sadly. "And I've not left the Order. I just…need some space. Being there is…"
He trailed off. Once again closing his eyes and hanging his head. It made Ahsoka's heart ache to see him looking so alone. She set her hand on his back. It trembled.
"Well," he said softly. "I think I would do well to take a sabbatical myself."
He gave her a wry smile, placing a hand on her shoulder again, and squeezing.
"Be well, Ahsoka," he said gently. And with one last scathing glance around her apartment, added, "Please, please do take care of yourself."
"I will," she smiled back somberly. "You also, Master. May the Force be with you."
He nodded. "And with you, young one." He paused, and then gave her a familiar Look. And said, "Remember what I said about Anakin."
And Ahsoka does.
For about a week.
And then the next thing she knows she's packing a bag and boarding a transport for Corellia. She spends the entire trip looking over her shoulder. But it all turns out to have been for nothing. Because there are no Jedi there when she arrives. And neither is there a certain senator from Naboo.
Sabé, Eirtaé, Teckla, Motée, and Dormé are all sworn to secrecy. Flat out refusing to give up their mistress's secret location. No amount of wheedling, or bargaining, or pleading can make them tell her where Anakin or Padmé are. Just that they're alive. They're safe. And that they wouldn't want her to worry. As if that was enough.
But Ahsoka knows when she's beaten. And truthfully, she can't fault them for their unflinching loyalty to Padmé. She'd do the same for Anakin. Without question. Which is why she can't let this go.
She offers to clean the 'freshers on the transport leaving Corellia, and in exchange the captain takes pity on her and grants her free passage to Kashyyk. And from there, she goes to Ithor. And then Dantooine, Rodia, Xo, and then finally, Tatooine. Where, incidentally, she runs into Obi-Wan, who has taken up residence in a small hut near a homestead just outside Mos Epsa.
But no Anakin.
Frustrated beyond belief, but not even close to giving up, Ahsoka (against Obi-Wan's vehement protests), gets a job at yet another cantina in order to earn enough funds to hop the next transport to Mandalore. It's a stretch, but Ahsoka's got absolutely zero leads on Anakin's whereabouts, and so she's resolved herself to having to comb every corner of the galaxy til she finds her Master.
Because before, she'd had her whole stupid life ahead of her, and no kriffing clue as to what she was going to do with it. It's horribly selfish, Ahsoka knows this, but Anakin's disappearance has given her direction again. Purpose. A goal to strive for. Her Master is out there somewhere. Lost, probably not alone, but needing her just the same. And Ahsoka is not going to fail him again. She will find him, and let him know that there's still one—or maybe one more person in this galaxy who will never give up on him.
But she ends up not having to.
Because three days into her stint at the cantina in Mos Epsa, something hits her, and it isn't the glass the drunken Toydarian chucked at her for being too slow with his refill.
No. It's something powerful. Exhilarating. Exalting. More powerful than happiness. More invigorating than elation. More tangible than joy.
It's an emotion with no name, because it's a memory. It's Master Plo taking her by the hand and bringing her to the Temple. It's snuggling closer to the other younglings in the crèche at sleeptime. It's finally, finally being chosen by a Master after watching everyone else in her class pass her by. It's having Anakin at her side, steadfast and vigilant, even when everyone else had deserted her after the bombing. It's a place she hasn't been to, a sight she hasn't seen, and a feeling she hasn't felt in what seems like a lifetime. And it tells Ahsoka exactly where to go.
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"…pled "not guilty" at his arraignment today. The move left many legal experts stunned and scratching their heads. 'It would have been a much wiser move on the former Vice Chancellor's part to accept the War Tribunal's plea deal of life imprisonment in exchange for giving up the rest of his and the former Supreme Chancellor's co-conspirators,' says retired attorney and legal analyst Herran Caballa. According to Attorney Caballa, as new evidence of former Chancellor Palpatine's collaboration with the Confederacy of Independent Systems comes to light, the chances of Mr. Amedda being exonerated for allegedly taking part in this act of treason are looking less and less likely. However, Mr. Amedda claims that…"
Tap
"Tensions in the capital remain at an all time high, as members of the Galactic Senate scramble to elect an Interim Chancellor to fill the vacancy left by former Supreme Chancellor Palpatine until proper elections can be held. As it stands right now, the vote is more or less split between Mon Monthma, Senator from Chandrila, and Ulon Prine, Senator from Ganthal. Political pundits believe that Senator Prine's affiliation with the Nakadia child prostitution scandal several years ago, may indeed tip the scales ever so slightly in Senator Monthma's favor. Opponents of Monthma, however, have voiced concern over her record of advocating for diplomacy over the use of force. Many in Senator Prine's camp have voiced their fear that Monthma and her supporters will be too lenient on the Confederacy of Independent Systems in an effort to bring the Separatists back into the Republic's fold. While…"
Tap.
"…representatives for the Jedi Council had little to say this afternoon at the press conference held on the steps of the Jedi Temple. Amid fervent public outcry, the Order has remained silent about the identity of the mysterious assassin who slew the Supreme Chancellor and three Jedi Masters three weeks ago. However, the High Council does claim to have several leads as to this being's whereabouts. But there are some, both in and outside of the Senate who accuse the Jedi Council of staging a cover up. Other, more zealous theorists claim the entire story is fabricated, and that Chancellor Palpatine's assassination was part of a conspiracy backed by 'Loyalists' in the Senate to have the Jedi Order seize control of the Republic, and end the war on 'peaceful' terms. The Jedi's refusal to answer the public's call to 'Release The Tapes,' and reveal the truth of what happened that night do little to help discredit this theory. However…"
Tap.
"…War Tribunal led by Admiral Tarkin struck down a new proposal by Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan to decommission the Clone Army, and begin steps to transition the billion clones created for the war effort into Republic society. Admiral Tarkin argued that—"
"You're trembling."
The sound of Anakin's voice nearly spooked Padmé out of her skin. She whirled around to find him looking worriedly up at her through bleary, half-lidded eyes.
"I thought you were asleep," she said. He should be, by all rights.
He had spent today as he had spent every day since their coming to Naboo three weeks ago; fixing up the baby's room. They both wanted the nursery to be absolutely perfect. But, in typical Anakin fashion, he had quickly become fixated on his little renovation project.
His every waking moment from morning until dinnertime was spent in that room, painting, building, arranging and rearranging. So much so that by the end of the day, he had no energy left to do anything but crawl into bed beside her.
But none of this worried Padmé, because she knew that Anakin was at his best when he was working with his hands. It calmed him. Allowed him to work out his feelings in a way that talking them through never really did. And indeed, spending all that time working on the baby's room was having a marked improvement on his overall demeanor. He was calmer. Less prone to bouts of anger and self-pity. And more willing to open up to her when he did slip into these moods. Plus, the work wore him out, which meant he got a lot more sleep now than perhaps he's had in years.
Anakin took her datapad from her protesting hands, and shifted so that he was now sitting up against the headboard, pulling her up with him.
"What's wrong," he said, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep. She exhaled a deep breath through her nose.
"Ani…" she groaned petulantly into his chest. "Everything is terrible."
"I thought that was my line," he teased.
She hit him lightly on the chest with the back of her fist. "No poking fun. This is serious."
He leaned down and gave her an apologetic kiss on the corner of her mouth, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down her arms. "What's serious?" he asked again.
"Everything!"
"Like…?"
"Like, the fact that the Senate can't pull itself together long enough to elect an Interim Chancellor. Like the fact that Mon's opponent is a suspected pedophile who has been brought up on racketeering charges no less than eight times during his ten year career in the Senate, and people are actually taking him seriously. Like the fact that we're even wasting time and tax payer credits with a trial for Mas Amedda, when there's a literal mountain of evidence implicating both him and the rest of Palpatine's cabinet in his conspiracy to slaughter the Jedi and overthrow the Republic. Like the fact that we can waste resources on that vial of bantha piss, but Stars forbid if we spend even a single credit on refugee resettlement or integrating the Clones into civilian life. Like the fact that there are still over a billion clones out there right now with a dormant genocide command planted in their brains, that no one has even mentioned removing because the Senate is too busy cannibalizing itself with cronyism and petty agendas. Like the fact that there are really people out there who actually believe with their actual brains that the Jedi would ever try to overthrow the Republic. Like the fact that our entire system of government—the government that we've all fought so hard to preserve, the government that you and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and rest of the Jedi fought so hard to preserve—is falling apart at the seams, and everyone's too busy cowing to careerism and media sensationalism to do anything about it!"
All of this came out in one long breath, and by the end, Padmé was too steamed up to take another. She flopped back against Anakin's chest, and his hands came up to wipe the angry tears from her cheeks. But Padmé batted them away because her skin was on fire, and he was entirely too warm. Undeterred, he wrapped his arms around her middle, and brought her even closer too him.
"The Holonews is always terrible," he whispered in her ear, while pressing soft kisses along her cheeks and jawline. "It's what sells. We're a galaxy obsessed with tragedy. You know this."
"I know," she grumbled. "That if someone doesn't step up soon, we're going to wind up with another Palpatine on our hands."
"Someone like you?"
Padmé's head whipped around so fast she accidentally whacked him in the face with her braid. She almost apologized, but he just looked so smug, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head, with that dumb 'You Can't Fool Me I Can Feel Your Every Emotion' smirk on his face, all Padmé could do was glower at him.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's killing you that you can't be there right now to help Bail and Mon get the Senate together," he said plainly. "It's eating you up inside that you're not on Coruscant right now, righting all the wrongs in the galaxy."
"I'm only one person, Anakin," she snapped, her nerves way past frayed. "I can't fix the entire galaxy by myself."
"Exactly," he said. He tugged gently on her braid and she lowered herself back down gently to lay on her side beside him. He pressed a soft, sensual kiss to her lips. Bopping her forehead with his. "Give it time, Love. Just a little while longer. You'll be back in the Senate soon."
"Not soon enough," Padmé grumbled.
Anakin said nothing. But reached for her braid again and unwound the band at the end, loosening it. His hand worked through the plait, combing out her tangled tresses. For a while they lay there in silence, with nothing between them save for her quiet, contented moans as Anakin continued his ministrations. Until finally, he said
"You could always go back early."
Padmé leaned up, brushing his hand away again. "What are you talking about?"
He shrugged, putting up a flimsy façade of indifference. "The baby will be here in a matter of weeks, if that. You can go back to Coruscant once she's born. Meet up with Bail and Mon and your other colleagues. Help them move things along."
"So what, you expect me to just push him out and run back to the Senate?" she asked. Legitimately offended that he could think her so callous.
He gave her a placating smile, and resumed stroking her hair. "Only if you want to, Angel. Believe me, I'm not pushing you out the door. But it's not like you'd be abandoning her. I'd still be here. And you could come home and see us whenever you needed to."
Padmé rolled her eyes. "When did you get so reasonable," she grumbled.
He grinned lazily back at her. "It's all the yellow. It soothes me."
And just like that, every ounce of residual irritation drained out of her. Completely undone by that ridiculous smile, Padmé lay back down across Anakin's chest. Tapping her fingers rhythmically against his abs as she continued to ruminate over what he'd just said.
"You're right," she admitted after a few moments. "I hate that I'm not there right now fighting to keep the Senate from falling apart. It's driving me crazy not being able to help Bail and Mon make sure we don't end up with that disgusting parasite Prine as Chancellor."
"Mmm," Anakin agreed. The sentiment making his chest rumble beneath her fingertips.
"But I also hate the thought of not being here for those first few months after the baby is born," she said. "That's why I took all these months off, Ani. I want our child to know who I am. I want to be here to feed him and change him and play with him. I want to see him learn to sit up, and crawl, and roll over and-and all of those other weird little things babies do."
"So do I," he said through a deep yawn. "I can't imagine doing any of this without you, Padmé."
She smiled, pressing a kiss right over his heart. "I just…I want both. I want to be an incredible mother and an incredible Senator. Both. At the same time. Is that so wrong?"
"Of course not," he whispered.
"Then why can't I have it?"
"B'cause of me," he yawned again. "'m so sorry you—"
"Stop that," she said, not in the mood for where this was going. "We would have ended up here regardless."
"Mmmm," Anakin murmured doubtfully as his eyes fluttered shut. Padmé kissed him goodnight, and pulled the covers over them, settling down beside him once again.
"It's not you," she said lowly to herself. "It's me. It's the reality that I'm going to have to make a choice one day between my career and being a mom. And even though the baby's almost here, and I'm so very excited to meet him, I still don't know which path I'm going to pick in the end. Does that make me unfit to be either one?"
Anakin answered her with a snore.
x0x0x0x
Yellow is the color of suns. Its light heralded the start of a new day. It was good for human skin, and made crops grow. It was the center of life for every world and for every being that dwelled on that world. It gave joy to the cheerless. Hope to the discouraged. Brought light to the darkness. And life to where there was none. Bright, sunny yellow was often used to symbolize beauty. Freedom. Vitality. Warmth. And the promise of a new beginning.
It has never been Anakin's favorite color.
For him, yellow was every day he spent laboring under the sweltering heat of Tatooine's twin suns. It was the burning hot sand he trudged through in his threadbare cloth shoes. It was thirst. It was hunger. It was hardship. The only things they had had an abundance of on that desert wasteland he called home for most of his childhood. It was the color of sorrow, of want, and of everything he and his mother had been robbed of living as another person's property.
But this was exactly why yellow was a fitting color for the baby's nursery. Because his child was going to have everything Anakin has been denied all his life, and more.
He hadn't exactly been wild about painting the baby's room this color at first. But Padmé had had months to plan out every intricate detail of this nursery, and she had been so excited to see her vision made reality. Anakin hadn't wanted to disappoint her. Besides, he himself had no frame of reference for what a baby's room was supposed to look like due to his upbringing, and honestly hadn't given it much thought besides that there should be one. So really, it hadn't been much of a sacrifice on his part to acquiesce to all of her wishes. He'd had only one caveat. That he be allowed to build the furniture himself.
It was a sentimental thing. This room was, for the most part, Padmé's brainchild. Her designs. Her taste. Her decisions. He had wanted to contribute something too, aside from just being the dumb muscle. And while Anakin wasn't much for interior decorating, nothing gave him greater joy than making something for a loved one.
On this, he hadn't had to put up much of a fight. Intuitive Padmé had known how much it meant to him without him even needing to explain. And with that minor compromise out of the way, the two of them got to work.
Or rather, Anakin got to work. Padmé, too heavily pregnant to be of much help, lasted almost a week sitting by the open window and giving instructions, before that became too frustrating for the both of them. They decided after one too many arguments over whether or not the crib should be three inches away from the window, or four, that her specifications were not so precise that she needed to hover over him, and that everything would still come out exactly as she envisioned even if she just left him to it. This turned out to be for the best.
Not that Anakin didn't enjoy his wife's company. He spent every day thanking the Mother Goddess over and over again for Padmé. For her goodness, her patience, and her grace. But working on the room by himself gave Anakin more time and space to think. And for that he was just as grateful. For although they were safe here and there was no immediate threat of discovery, there was still an immeasurable weight wearing on him that he had yet to fully grapple with.
Though they haven't yet mentioned him by name, the Jedi are still hunting him. He will spend the rest of his life in hiding. His child will still be born in secret. He and Padmé still have to hide their marriage. He will probably never see Ahsoka again. And if he and Obi-Wan ever do have the misfortune of meeting again, it will be as enemies, and will more than likely end with one of them killing the other.
These thoughts—all of them, but especially that last one—are each their own unique cocktail of shame and anguish. Bringing with them even more questions that he will probably never have the answers to. How can he begin this new chapter of his life without Obi-Wan or Ahsoka there to share in it with him? How will he and Padmé explain to their child why she can never tell anyone who her Daddy is? Will Padmé ever tire of having a secret husband, and decide that she can do better? He hammers, and paints, and sands these thoughts away every day, and still they persist. A constant reminder of what an incredibly foolish gamble it is to attempt to build a future with all of the ugliness of his past and present still unresolved.
But in spite of that, there's still an astonishing amount of hope to be found standing here in the middle of this finally finished room. Looking at the beautiful handcrafted crib, changing table, and rocking chair that he'd built and painted with his own two hands. At the bookshelves along the opposite wall, stacked with holobooks and stuffed toys. At the dresser and closet crammed full of clothes and blankets and shoes that Padmé had had entirely too much fun picking out over these past four weeks. At the soft buttercream walls that practically glowed when the morning sun poured in on them at just the right angle. Anakin can't help but feel a burst of optimism.
Because here's the truth. He's made a mess of his life. He's a hateful, deceitful, arrogant man who has spat in the face of every opportunity he's ever been gifted, and every person who's ever given it to him. He is the textbook definition of undeserving. And yet the Force still saw fit to grace him with this child. And that child will grow up Free. She will never call another being "Master." She will never endure the fear and indignity of living with an explosive planted inside of her. She will live her whole life in total ignorance of the scars of bondage. Her body. Her mind. Her life. And her future will all belong to her, and will be her's to do with as she sees fit, from the moment she enters this galaxy until she leaves it.
And though Anakin can speak nearly a dozen languages, he will never be able to find the right words to express just how grateful he is for this one supreme blessing. He will just have to prove himself worthy of it. Somehow.
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A/N: NGL, looking up nurseries for inspiration for this last part was probably the most fun I've had writing this story thus far (Ahsoka's misadventures in the first section are a close second, though). Unfortunately, most of what I had in mind didn't make it in. I'll try to include snippets in future chapters though.
As always, reviews are love and improve my typing speed by 1000%. Love you guys!
