Ooooh boy. This chapter just kept on getting longer and longer, and now this story needs four more chapters. Eight chapters total. Double the amount I planned.
Weeeeeeee!
People wouldn't stop touching Anakin.
The room was hot and moist and thick in his lungs. Hundreds of bodies pressed together so closely they hardly had room to sit down. There wasn't space for people to stop touching him. Legs shoved him from side to side, hands brushed the top of his head and hips knocked his head, jerking him forward.
Fear had his stomach and churned it over and over. His bare feet curled into the grimy floor. He sobbed, wailing "Aaaaaamuu!". But she didn't come. She didn't sweep him into her lap and curl herself around him and trace animals out into his palm for him to guess.
He reached out into the Other. The part of him that always Knew. He always knew where his mother was. It had never been a question for him. But when he reached into that part of himself he was only confused.
Anakin choked on a sob, and held back his breath to call again. "Aaaaamu!"
Someone moved and shoved him back into someone else's legs. They were sticky, and smelled very very bad.
She wasn't there.
He felt sick. His head hurt and he wanted Amu and he was alone but there were so many people and they wouldn't stop touching him.
Anakin screamed, tears rolling down his cheek. He choked on his own grief, coughing. He couldn't breath, all the air was up with the bigger people-
A sharp pain cracked across his cheek.
"Shut up." Someone said.
Anakin swallowed. He knew. He knew that he would get slapped again if he cried. He tried to be quiet, he really tried, but the grief popped in his chest, and he began to bawl.
At once there was a hand in his hair, jerking his head from side to side until he saw twice as many legs.
"Shut. Up." The voice hissed. It was old, and hoarse, and cruel.
Panic flared inside Anakin, and he whimpered. "Wan- Want my Amu."
The hand tightened around his hair.
"You want your Amu?" The voice said. "Then get a hold of yourself and shut up. You keep on crying and they'll sell you away from her, and she'll die of a broken heart."
And then the fear snatched his grief and dragged it deep inside him. His throat burned. His heart stretched and stretched with the knowing that she wasn't there until he feared it would explode. Just like he would if a master decided to get rid of him. Just like Amu would if they ever left their master.
He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking in his hot tears. He must hold it in. Even if he felt like he would die, from the sickness inside. If he didn't he would be sold away from he and if he tried to find her he would die and she would die and he must never let them die. Never never never-
Then there were arms around him.
Someone pressed their cheek against his.
"Oh Ani." Amu said. "Sweetwater baby, my baby."
She sank to the floor and curled around him. No one could touch him now, but he still felt the slap stinging on his cheek and the hand tight in his hair. She sang. She sang a song about stars twinkling in the heavens, his favorite, but Anakin couldn't hear it inside him.
He felt the grief inside him push, pushing against his chest, his mouth, his eyes to be with Amu- Amu who made everything better but his fear was stronger.
His hand felt her finger tracing again and again, and he heard her voice saying, "what animal is this, Ani? What animal?" But it was always outside and away and not in the inside that he must never let out.
"Ani, Ani-"
Her hand touched his cheek, pulling his face up.
He squinted one eye open and screamed.
Her face was purple, with red blood all over. Her eyes were swollen almost shut, and her hair was coated in scabs.
"At last." She said softly. "I am complete."
She smiled. Her teeth were stained red. Then she slumped, and stopped breathing.
Anakin couldn't feel her presence anymore. He could feel the Other, but not her. Not Amu. She was gone, she was gone, she was gone why didn't he shut up? Why couldn't he have shut up earlier?
The grief broke free, racing out and into the world. They would pay they would all pay for what they did to Amu, the best most wonderful person in the world-
Anakin jolted up in bed. Sweat rolled down his back, but he was shivering.
It was dark. The sun had yet to rise. It would have risen already on Naboo.
Padme was asleep next to him.
Slowly he dragged one leg, and then the other to the side of the bed. He stared at his feet on the floor, trembling. His stomach churned, and for a moment he contemplated the fastest route to the bathroom. Eventually it settled.
He stood up and shuffled across the floor to the bassinet by the wall. He leaned against the wall, pressing his forehead against the cold surface, and looked down to Jafan.
He lay, quiet. His lips parted, his little nostrils flaring everytime he breathed in and out.
"Ah, my little sweetwater." Anakin whispered. The Huttese was rough against his throat, but smoother than any other language would be.
Carefully, he cupped his head with his prosthetic hand, the one he could trust to keep steady, and lifted him out of the bassinet onto his shoulder.
Jafan released a little whine, then curled into him.
Anakin closed his eyes, and he felt his love for Jafan unfurl inside him. It was warm, and soothing.
He turned around to look at Padme, still asleep. Being a mother had made her a deeper sleeper, though she would never admit it. But she never woke up when he did anymore. Not unless he screamed.
She was beautiful, still, in her nightgown, her hair spread over the pillow like she floated in water. She was his wife, and he loved her.
He shuffled out of the bedroom into the hallway, sliding each foot deliberately against the carpet, to feel the richness underneath his feet. This carpet, this richness was here, was now and was a part of his life. This was his life, and nothing else.
He cracked open the door to Leia's room. Ahsoka lay curled up into a ball half her size to fit on Leia's bed. Shmi was in her arms. Luke and Leia were curled up together on the rug on the floor. They'd taken a blanket with them, and were so tangles he could hardly guess where their limbs were.
She meant to lay with them until they fell asleep. He guessed. And she fell asleep first, and they went on the floor because there was more room.
There was something funny about it. He might have laughed, last night.
He looked at them all. His heart twist and swelled.
These are my children. He thought. I love them.
He closed the door. This time he walked down the hallway.
The living room was a tomb. He could feel the shreds of last night. Ahsoka had been playing a board game with the twins. She had been pretending to loose. He felt Luke's excitement in the bottom of his stomach. He felt his brow pressed tight together as Leia's had been, in concentration. No doubt trying to win for real. And Ahsoka's presence still sat where she had that night. He could nearly make out the points of her lekku.
Padme's busy, swirling mind was still twirling the force around and around on the couch where she had been working. And the whole room glowed with Shmi's happiness.
It would be gone by morning, when it was filled with the chatter and doings of a day starting. But for now, it was a graveyard of precious memories.
He wove through the living room, avoiding each spot, merely admiring it as he went past, and entered into the kitchen. It was shiny, counters and counters of durasteel. Artoo charged quietly in the corner in a droid station.
There were six plastoid bottles by the shining knife clock. A flat white, with ugly standard writing on the outside. They stood out like a slave in the presence of a great queen. I don't belong here. I don't belong here.
But he had stood with a queen. He had been friends with one. And now he was married to her.
Expertly he opened the bottles with one hand, shaking out one pill apiece onto the counter.
They lay there innocently, heedless of the hundreds of years of experimentation and scientists and therapists that had birthed them into existence.
Anakin was not innocent to it.
There were six kinds of pills. Two others only for emergencies. One was for if he had one of his splitting headaches. The rest he took every morning. One for his mood swings. Bipolar, the therapist had called it. Another for his fear. His anxiety. And the last for the memories. The ptsd.
Seventy three people had worked on those pills. Anakin knew, because he had looked them up and read about their studies, and had read through their reports. He knew which planets they had grown up on and which colleges they had been to and who they had supported in their political life. He knew the trajectory of their careers, had read a good portion of each of their papers, and papers railing critiques against their research. Even now he could rattle off this information off the top of his head. He only occasionally actually did. Mainly when he wanted to bore someone at the rare party he went to Padme with.
He looked at them. They were small, so, so small.
He was lucky. The only side affects they had was that everytime he showered he pulled away fistfulls of hair, and he couldn't eat for a few hours afterwards without feeling sick.
In return, he was better father, a better husband, a better man, a better person.
Most mornings, it was easy to take them. Habit.
This morning, he couldn't look at them without his mouth going dry, and his pulse spiking. He stared at a scuff, nearly a dent where Artoo had hit it before he had learned the layout of the apartment.
He remembered staring at a dent in Palpatine's desk. He was ten. Just turned ten, a month ago, but he hadn't told Obi-Wan because it'd been the three month anniversary since Qui-Gon had died. Obi-Wan had spent the night before weeping in his room, and he'd been so miserable the next morning Anakin decided it could wait.
Those days had been a confusing time. Everyone and everything pulling at him and tugging. The healers wanted him up to date on vaccines. The history teachers needed him to memorize the history of the galaxy from its birth to the modern day. The mathematics teachers were furiously patching holes in his knowledge. He had to learn to read and write from tutors meant for children half his age. And besides all that there was force theory and meditation and lightsaber combat and defense combat and basic medicine and negotiation and politics and manners and languages and a dozen other things.
All of it was swirling around and around in Anakin's head, all this information they were trying to shove into his head. He tried, he really did. Sometimes he laid awake all night reciting what he'd learned because he couldn't write well enough yet to take notes and he didn't dare fall asleep for fear he'd wake up missing something.
Even Obi-Wan seemed unable to keep up. He had dark circles under his eyes constantly, and he never seemed to sleep well, if at all. With every hole he discovered Anakin had to fill, the more frustrated and frazzled he became.
Anakin thought it was unfair. It wasn't his fault he didn't know things. He'd learned all he could, and his mother had taught him everything she knew and that ought to be enough for everyone. Right? And everyone seemed so eager, they were all so desperate to stuff all this inside him. He thought if they went a lot slower he'd do a lot better.
But he kept it inside him. Obi-Wan had more to worry about than Anakin's opinions. Surely the Jedi knew best, they were Jedi, after all, and he shouldn't bother them. They'd barely let him in as it was. Better to hold it tight inside and try to please everyone at once.
He never meant for the frustration to come out during his weekly visits with Chancellor Palpatine. It just happened, and then he was staring at the dent in the desk with a flushed face, waiting for a punishment for speaking out.
But Palptine had only been sympathetic.
"My boy, these classes are mostly for show. So the Jedi can keep a nice and tidy list of who knows what. If you ask me, if they were as force sensitive as they claim to be they'd be able to choose who goes to what mission without it."
"Maybe I could ask them if they could slow it down." Anakin muttered. "I'm sure if they just slowed down, I could go faster later."
Palpafine sighed, and he sat back in thought. He always considered Anakin's words so carefully. "Perhaps." He finally said. "But, as you said, our position is already precarious. I think we ought to avoid rocking the boat further, to hold back, so to speak. But I am happy to help you study while you are here, and I do have many resources should you need them."
Something about that hadn't sounded right to Anakin. But even then half of his mind had been trying to remember a primary document so he could describe it to his teacher tomorrow, because he couldn't write an essay yet, and simultaneously run a complex mathematical equation. He wasn't at all sure if he was doing either of them right, and he desperately wanted something to be right. So he'd smiled and said, "Thank you sir." And Palpatine had patted his back and given him a sweet on the way out.
And so that was how Anakin had started going to Palpatine for help with his schoolwork. All it had taken was a few strict teachers and months of Palpatine working through his schoolwork and tutting about how all these terrible mistakes would have made Anakin look for him to stop going to the Jedi for help at all. Fortunately he had Palpatine to help him, who would correct him kindly and speak of his mistakes to no one.
All because he hadn't thought things through for himself.
So he'd done the research on those pills they'd given him. He'd gone with and without. He'd pushed to try many different medications, to see which one worked best. He had done all the research he could, to know what was going into him and how it was changing him.
But he was still just standing there, thinking of all the reasons why he knew those pills were good for him, and he couldn't do it. He could only remember staring at that dent in shame and letting himself be transformed into a monster.
He knew the pills would help. He deserved the help those pills gave him. But it wasn't enough.
He thought of Padme. His beautiful queenly wife who deserved a husband who could properly love and support her. He thought of Ahsoka and Luke and Leia and Shmi. His children, who deserved stability and an even temper. He cradled Jafan close, savoring his simple bright presence for comfort.
He gathered the pills on the counter and popped them dry into his mouth. He'd lose his nerve if he waited to get a glass of water.
Then he walked back into the living room and sat heavily on the couch, next to the spot where Padme had been last night and thought.
Dreams were infrequent now. Either the prophetic or the normal kind. Mostly, he just woke up trembling and ready to fight at the barest hint of noise without any reason why. Padme had had the apartment sound proofed before they arrived, but they couldn't block out everything.
But he'd dreamed now.
It could be that it came from the stress of moving. They'd only been here two weeks after all. But he'd had no dreams in that time.
He'd only just enrolled the twins in school. They were on their third day there. That could be it.
Padme, knowing his tendency to overesearch anything, had appointed two assistants to help him look over the many schools on Coruscant. So it had only taken two weeks to decide on one, rather than two months.
But he was strangely content with that decision. It was a small, private elementary school, with thirty five students and eight teachers. The teachers had founded it themselves after being tired of restricted by the standard Coruscant curriculum. They worked together well, kept the students challenged, and had excellent facilities.
None of them had a hint of a criminal record, save for one of them, who'd been a passenger in a speeder at sixteen being driven by someone underage who was intoxicated. They hadn't drunken themselves, but their friend had. Anakin decided it wasn't something to worry about. It was a good school. He'd toured it himself. He'd toured it with Padme. He'd toured it with the twins. They'd all loved it. He liked it too.
So it wasn't the school.
Perhaps it was just the feeling of Coruscant. No sound proofing could block out the overwhelming mass of people that radiated through the force. The senatorial apartments were better, having a smaller population and being raised above the rest of the buildings. But at times Anakin still felt like he was crushed in a crowd of slaves in a ship, being shuttled from place to place to be sold.
Perhaps that was it. He had been having difficulty going to sleep because of the pounding mass of life in the force.
A door creaked open. Anakin glanced up. Ahsoka was standing in the children's doorway, swaying a little on her feet. She was so tired that she barely registered as awake in the force, more a mass of vague desires than a person.
She shuffled into the living room, walking right through the memory of Luke playing the board game and went into the kitchen.
She woke up more and more as she grabbed a cup and filled it with water, until she was almost completely conscious by the time she slowly eased down next to Anakin. She sipped the water.
Anakin and Obi-Wan had found her in the bowls of Coruscant yesterday. In the lowest layers, hunting down criminals the police force didn't bother to find. Her ribs had barely healed.
"How long do I have to stay here?" Ahsoka asked irritably.
Anakin patted the back of Jafan absently. "He asked us to keep you here as long as we could."
"Ah." Ahsoka took another sip of water. "Keeping me so busy changing diapers and playing with younglings that I don't have time to think about the galaxy?"
"You'd be surprised how effective it is." Anakin said.
She snorted.
Artoo powered on in the kitchen. Anakin heard the clicking of him unattaching himself from the wall, and the humm of his motors as they turned on.
He trundled his way into the living room and looked at them both.
Ahsoka kicked his dome lightly. "Traitor." She growled.
OBJECTION: When both PRIMARY: Padme Naberre Skywalker and PRIMARY: Anakin Skywalker Nabierre request information, I am required give it. Artoo said.
"You could have stalled." Ahsoka said. "Couldn't you have at least waited until we'd caught Uthram?"
OBSERVATION: I am not required to answer that, unless you are upgraded to a PRIMARY.
She threw her arms up. "Oh, of course. I just need to upgrade. Then I can do all my work in peace."
OBSERVATION: I do not compute a "need" for it. Artoo said scathingly.
Anakin laughed. "I missed you little buddy." He leaned forward to set his hand against Artoo's dome. "You did good."
Artoo hummed a bit, then trilled hopefully. QUERY: Does this imply a reward?
"... your rockets? I don't know…"
OBJECTION: Rockets have been useful in 93.3% of Clone War missions and would be useful in 56.932% of post-Clone war missions. EVIDENCE: MEMORY LOG REPORT 03.29.77894: SECONDARY: Ahsoka Tano fell 9.3 meters after-
"Hey!" Ahsoka kicked him again. "Shut up-"
-confronting a criminal. Criminal objected and shot her with a slugthrower. In attempting to dodge, SECONDARY: Ahsoka Tano fell off a meat factory and sprained her right upper appendage. Criminal escaped. DATA EXTRAPOLATION: I could have caught her and the mission would have succeeded with no casualties. DATA BANK REFERENCE: I have many further relevant points of evidence. REQUEST: May I go on?
"No, no. I think you made your point Artoo." Anakin glanced at Ahsoka. "So you sprained your arm too?"
"That was last year!" Ahsoka said. "It's all healed up now."
OBJECTION: SECONDARY: Ahsoka Tano has complained of her right wrist joint thirty five times.
"That's because I broke my wrist three years ago. It has nothing to do with that incident."
OBSERVATION: You connected the two incidents 2 times yourself, yet did not consult a biological mechanic. OBSERVATION: You are hiding your injuries. DATA EXTRAPOLATION: You are concerned the Jedi will force you off active duty. OBSERVATION: Lying will not assist with this.
Ahsoka slumped back into the couch, groaning.
"Thank you Artoo. That was very informative." Anakin said. He glanced at Ahsoka, she scowled at them both. "Make notes of all similar incidents."
She froze. "No-"
"Don't do anything with them yet." Anakin said, holding up an arm to stop Ahsoka's protest. "I just want them on hand. Then we'll talk about reinstalling the rockets."
Artoo beeped an affirmative and trundled cheerfully off to search through his memory banks.
"I guess you're going to tell on me to the Jedi."
"Not to the Jedi." Anakin said. "It's for you. You've been reckless- disregarding your own health-"
"Like you're better." She growled.
"I wasn't." Anakin shot a hard look at her. "And look where it got me. You need to see what you've been doing to yourself."
She sunk back into the couch miserably, hiding behind her cup.
She wasn't listening. She wasn't going to listen. Hopefully the list would help… but stars did he dream for the day when she was a scrawny fourteen year old he could throw over his back and carry to safety.
He sighed, covering his face with his hand. He'd have to talk with Padme. She was always better that these sort of things than him.
He stood up and stretched, switching the baby from arm to arm. The many buildings of Coruscant were just starting to glitter as the horizon turned a gentle yellow. But the sun wasn't in sight yet.
He walked back into their room to find Padme standing in front of the mirror. Frowning.
She was dressed in a white under dress, and was fiddling with a strand of her curling hair, a vague sense of dissatisfaction about her as she stared into the mirror.
Anakin set down Jafan in his crib and sprinted over to her. He snatched her waist, spinning her around in a few circles. She squealed and laughed, gripping his hands around her waist.
He set her down and caught her neck, pressing hot kisses up it to her jawline. She giggled, leaning back against him. "If you continue this way, we're going to have a fifth baby on our hands." She teased.
He only grunted, turning around her so he could catch her mouth in a kiss. She dug her hands into his hair and eagerly responded.
"You're very beautiful." Anakin whispered when they paused for breath, their foreheads pressed together. "The most beautiful woman in the galaxy."
Padme's mouth curled. "Thank you darling." She set her hands on his chest and took a small, disappointing, step back. "But I promise I'm not musing over the tabloids."
"Good." He said, and grasped on her hands to press a kiss to her palm. "They are incompetent as they are stupid."
"I was just thinking of cutting my hair."
Anakin froze holding Padme's hand to his cheek. He looked down at her and frowned. "Why?"
He liked her long hair. It's curling tresses that cascaded like a delicate waterfall down and around her. Easy to bury his head in and smell the rose scented cleaners she used.
"Well, long hair isn't as popular as it used to be. Short's been coming in fashion." Padme noted. "And honestly, I'm getting a little tired of wrangling it into something acceptable every morning."
Anakin dropped her hand and pulled her against him, setting his cheek into that hair. "I could help with that."
"... don't you have enough to do in the morning?"
Not when I have a dream.
"We could hire someone."
Padme snorted. "Personal hairdressers come at a premium. I'd rather the money go towards the children and maintaining our house on Naboo. Besides, I rather like the idea of being able to quickly comb my hair and run out the door. No faffing required."
Padme without her hair. As long as he'd known her she'd always had beautiful long hair. Why did she need to change now? Maybe it was this famous mid life crisis people always seemed to complain about. A phase. Surely she'd grow it out again.
Your being possessive, stupa. Anakin reminded himself. She'll be the same. Hair or no hair.
So he forced himself to kiss the top of her head and say warmly, "if you want to."
"I do want to." Padme mussed. "I think I'll ask Sabe to make an appointment for it next week."
He helped her dress, though she didn't need the help nearly as much as she might once have. Her image was becoming more and more business and practical these days, rather than elaborate and commanding. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Still, she did look beautiful in the plain cut dress, with only a simple circle of embroidery around the neckline. Anakin thought thee sash around her waist, a plain contrasting color that matched the embroidery, was a nice touch.
When she finished she took Jafan to feed before she set off for work. Anakin went to manage the rest of the children.
Leia, of course, was awake, and already eating buttered toast and fruit as a breakfast. Luke was still on the floor, blankets tangled thoroughly around his limbs. His eyes wandered over the ceiling like he had all the time in the world.
"Lukali." Anakin said sternly. He wasn't sure how one of he and Padme's children had ended up hating the mornings so much. Both of them could hardly stand to get up late. Then again, that had been trained into Anakin when he'd been enslaved. Being late in the morning meant no breakfast and a lash on the back. Perhaps, in another world, he too would have refused to get up in the mornings.
Luke looked down at his father in surprise, as if he hadn't noticed him there. "Dad- do you think the motor just needs cleaning?"
Anakin knelt and detangled his son from the blanket. The one good thing on Coruscant was the parts market. And he'd just bought an engine to replace the one in a speeder. He'd gotten it for cheap because it couldn't run. At the time, he'd been confident he could get it working again.
"Maybe." Anakin admitted, tossing the blankets aside on the floor. "I was thinking about it too. But I think it's the ignition."
Luke wriggled while he raised his arms so Anakin could pull off his nightgown. "But we checked the ignition."
"Yes, and while the ignition should work for that model, but with as many mods as the engine has had-"
It was at that moment that Shmi woke up and promptly threw up green liquidy goo all over Luke's bed.
She stared at it, eyes as wide as dinnerplates.
Luke swore.
"Luke!"
Shmi burst into tears, big fat drops rolling down her cheeks. She stretched out her tiny hands, eyes squeezed tight, waiting for someone to pick her up. Trusting that someone would pick her up and comfort her. No concern for a punishment.
"Rex can say it!" Luke said.
Anakin swept Shmi up into his arms, desperately soothing her in the force. Still, her cries grated in his ears, her fear slashing through the force. The stench burning his nostrils, like a camp filled with the stuff because they had no bathrooms, no toilets, just the ground and a horrible flu going around the camp. And Kix was sick too but he wouldn't stop to rest.
Anakin had gone before the council, nauseous from the feeling in the force, near begging the council for medical supplies, even just disinfectant so Kix wouldn't have to keep boiling his tools.
And the masters had told Anakin they could do nothing.
"Hold the line, Skywalker." Mace Windu had said, eyes hard, but his face weary. "We'll be able to take them in another two days, then we can get you help, just hold the line."
Anakin stared up at him, hating him, because now Anakin had to go out there- he had to tell them to keep fighting even when they couldn't keep liquid down in twenty seven hours-
"Ani! Ani what's going on?"
Anakin blinked. Shmi was still sobbing quietly on his shoulder. Luke was at the window with only his underpants on, watching the speeders go by, totally absorbed.
Padme touched his arm. "Ani why is-" she spotted the bed. "Oh dear."
She snatched a comm at her waist and glanced at it, her face tight. "I… might be able to get the children to school. If we hurry."
Anakin forced his dry throat to swallow. I was home, I am safe. Shmi will be cared for. "You'll get them there an hour early."
"Better than an hour late. I-" her comm pinged, she glanced at it. Her face paled, and a vague sort of horror radiated through her through the force. "Nevermind. I need to be there. Now." She stared at the message and bit her lip. "Maybe… maybe Rex could drive them and I'll take myself to the Senate."
Anakin rubbed Shmi's back, she had quieted into a whimper, snuggling against Anakin, wiping more of the waste on him. "You're not registered to drive here yet." Anakin reminded her.
She'd done the paperwork, but the confusion after the war ended made the office lose her previous driver's license. They were still trying to get it back so she didn't have to take the test again.
Padme groaned. "With the way this day is going I'll probably get stopped by security and the scandal will be all over the news by lunch."
"Snips could drive them." Anakin pointed out.
Her face brightened. "Maybe" She ran down the hallway.
Anakin turned around. He pointed a finger at Luke. "Attention!"
Luke jerked away from the window, snapping his feet together. "Siryessir!"
"I want you dressed, doubletime. Report to me when finished."
Luke slapped a hand to his head, a huge grin across his face. "Yessir!" He ran over to his clothes closet and started opening drawers.
Anakin left the bedroom, praying that Luke wouldn't get sidetracked again. He went into the bathroom and started running the bath, rubbing Shmi's back while singing her favorite song. The rush of water was beautiful, rich. Water always made him feel rich. Even now, millions of people would have killed for that water.
He unbuttoned the cuffs of Shmi's nightgown. She whined quietly, rubbing at her cheeks and mouth where the acid of the vomit burned.
"Want bad." She whined. "Badth."
"Please." Anakin corrected, tossing her nightgown aside.
"Please." She said miserably.
"Allllllllllll dressed siryessir!" Luke snapped, jumping into the doorframe.
Anakin glanced at him. There was one tuft of hair sticking up like a bantha licked it, but overall he was presentable. "Go eat breakfast, soldier." He said.
"Siryessir!" Luke slapped his hand to his forehead and marched down the hallway.
Padme caught the doorframe a moment later, panting.
Shmi brightened. "Hello Mama!" She said, flapping her hand while Anakin tested the water. "Hello!"
"Ahsoka will drive the twins to school," Padme rattled off, "Artoo's entertaining Jafan -he'll need to be changed soon- and I've asked the building's meddroid to come up."
"Mama." Shmi said sternly, waving wider. "HeLLO."
Padme smiled at her. "Hi sweetie! Mommy's going to work now, okay?" She waved her hand. "Goodbye!"
Shmi pouted. "G'bye."
Padme vanished down the hallway.
"I love you." Anakin called after her for all the world to hear.
"Love you too!" She called back.
The rest of the morning went as well as could be expected. Leia and Luke skipped off with Ahsoka to school. Anakin bathed Shmi. Which, as always, turned into a bath for himself with all the splashing she did, and had her waiting and distracted while the meddroid took a blood sample.
It was only a minor flu, a new strain that was making its way up from the lower levels. The meddroid advised that she drink as much as possible, but if she couldn't keep enough of it down Anakin should call him again.
He put Terry the Talking Tooka on the screen in the living room to distract Shmi from how miserable she felt. He fed her bites of fruit sauce whenever she could be bothered. He changed Jafan's diaper. He refilled Shmi's cup with juice. He checked her temperature and then rewarded her with a piece of candy for having the stem stuck in her mouth for two whole minutes.
He cleaned the living room, putting away the game from the night before, the datapad and several stuffed animals Luke had left out, and various toys meant for ages newborn to two.
There were other things to tidy. He made sure all the decorations and little trinkets they'd brought were perfectly placed. He reorganized one shelf that didn't satisfy him.
His hands were dusty after that, so he dusted all the shelves and under the couch and tables.
Then he noticed that the paintings on the wall had tilted from the vibrations of the ships that passed by, so he straightened them.
He's scrubbed the kitchen down two days before, when his hands needed something to do. So that was out.
He debated cleaning the twin's room. Leia's side was spotless but Luke tended to leave a trail of things wherever he went. But he didn't want to leave Shmi alone, so he sat on the floor and started refluffing the carpet. There was a droid that vacuumed it every couple of days but it never quite managed to keep it fluffy like it should.
He found that if he caught the threads of the carpet between the joints of his mechanical hand he could pull it up taught, until it stood up on it's own.
Once, he felt Shmi's sickness spike, and managed to have a bowl in front of her before she threw up again. Then she sobbed some more, and he had her drink a sharp spicy tea to remove the taste before setting her in front of the screen again, just in time for the Grand Finale of Terry's birthday party.
Anakin eyed the show while he continued work on the carpet. It was painfully simple. Why would anyone make such a stupid show? Should they really be letting the children watch this? Perhaps he should do some research on it.
He worked at the carpet, carefully working at it until it looked like new. Where it had been when they bought it. It took him twenty minutes to do a ten centimeter square, and by that estimation he believed he could have it done by the time Padme came home.
Jafan whined, punching his hunger through the force. Anakin jumped to his feet and grabbed a bottle from the fridge. Padme had been worried about the milk, but between her pumping at work and formula they managed.
He's used up the last of the milk last night, and Padme had fed him this morning, so it would be a while before more would come. So he had to use formula.
Anakin reconsidered his schedule while he fed Jafan. He hadn't accounted for how the children would slow him down. Perhaps he could skip the areas under the couch and table. They hardly needed it anyways.
He dared leave Shmi alone to set Jafan down for a nap. He crooned out a lullaby and rubbed his back until his presence was as soft as silk.
He couldn't remember ever being taken care of like this when he was this young. Mother always had to work longer than him, and she'd always scolded him when he waited up for her. It wasn't until later, when Watto had bought them, that she was able to start tucking him into bed. And even then it was because, more and more, she was working from home. Caring for her garden and drying the plants into medicine. Caring for any slaves that came to her.
She'd been good at that, healing people. The other masters would pay Watto for her care. He'd told her to turn away anyone who's master wouldn't pay, but he never visited the slaves village, and he was paid enough that he never bothered to check. Mother never turned anyone away. She would always help people. Until she was staying up all hours of the night to tend to patients after she had put Anakin to rest and he would beg her to sleep too.
"Terry be careful!" Shmi's show gayly declared.
Anakin glanced up to look at the screen. Terry, apparently, was climbing a steep wall to get a baby Tooka's toy.
He looked down. His hands were slowly working through another section of carpet.
He stopped.
What am I doing? He thought incredulously. Why on earth was he refluffing the carpet?
He groaned.
Stupa stupa stupa.
"I am free." He mumbled, rubbing his forehead. "I can rest. I am free."
Then he stood up.
Shmi was asleep on the couch, her pointer finger hanging from her drooling mouth. Her forehead was plastered with her golden curls. Her cheeks were nearly red.
He collapsed on the couch next to her and fanned her, gently. He flicked his hand to turn off the screen and basked in a world free of high pitched voice actors and stupid plots.
He grabbed his comm and punched in a well familiar number.
He watched it process the request. Once. Twice. Three times.
Why wasn't she answering. Had something happened? Had-
"Hello?"
Relief rushed over Anakin. "Ahsoka. Where are you?"
"Uuh, at the store? Getting socks?" She stared, puzzled, at him and held a package of them up. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes, there's something wrong. You should have told me you were going to do something after dropping off the twins, I was getting worried-"
"Force, Anakin." Ahsoka laughed. "Holy shavit. What are you talking about?"
Anakin's face burned, he frowned. He'd should have called her earlier. What if something had gone wrong? What if she'd crashed? But he'd been too distracted by a stupid carpet.
"Come here after you're finished."
Her amusement vanished. "Uh. No."
"No?!"
"I promised Dex I'd help out in his kitchen. He's doing this relief thing, giving food to the needy and he wants an extra hand."
Anakin's hand tightened on the comm. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"... cause I didn't?"
"Snips, if you're going to be out for longer I need to know- Obi-Wan asked me-"
"Listen, I gotta go." She broke in, overly cheerful, "my turn at the register. I promise not to do anything stupid. Bye."
The comm beeped.
Anakin stared at it, then threw it at the end of the couch. Shavit- why was she so- so.
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. She was as stubborn as a bantha.
Shmi twitched in her sleep. He glanced sharply at her, then breathed, and forced himself to calm. Getting himself upset over the same pattern's Ahsoka had had for years would do no good. Shmi needed calm. She needed a good and calm father. And so did Ahsoka. Stars, he should have stayed calm with her. But he was failing her again-
His comm rang.
He snatched it up, panic racing through his system without him really knowing why.
It was one of Leia's teachers. Her face shone stern and blue in the light of the comm.
"Anakin Skywalker?"
He nodded.
"I need you to pick up Leia and Luke from school."
"Why? Are they sick? Or is Luke-"
"They've been suspended. They attacked another student, though I understand there was some provocation."
Anakin gaped. Luke, the child who wouldn't hurt a fly if it flu up his nose. And Leia, who followed the rules so tightly she pointed out everytime Anakin made a "mistake" while driving.
"You're mistaken." Anakin said flatly.
"We have eye witness accounts and a bleeding ear and a bruised eye that say differently."
Anakin pointed a finger at the screen. Eh chu ta, he'd thought this school had been safe. He thought he'd picked out the right one. He'd failed them again. There they were, alone. Surrounded by strangers. Forced to care for themselves. He was doing the research himself this time, no matter what Padme said. "My children are no such trouble makers. If they attacked, it was only to defend themselves. If you're own negligent staff cannot-"
"Just come and meet with them." The teacher was not amused. Anakin gritted his teeth as he saw her eyes flick just barely upwards.
"I will." Anakin lowered his voice in a way that used to make the Domino twins pale. "And I will be getting to the bottom of this, I assure you."
He turned off the comm before she could fight back. Then he dialed Ahsoka's number.
At least now he had a good excuse to bring her home.
Anakin has issues. Anakin has so many issues that it's actually insane that he's as sane as he is. Writing him is difficult, especially because I want to make him flawed, but trying to be good. He is still suffering in so many ways, and often going through a single day is exhausting for him, purely because everything, everything reminds him of his trauma. But making that Trauma affect his world in a realistic way but still in a way that makes sense as to why Padme trusts the kids with him is hard. Really hard. I scrapped like eight thousand words in Padme's chapter talking about Anakin's journey to mental stability, because it was too much. (That's why it was so short.) I think this works a bit better, because it shows the many way Anakin is affected by his trauma and is dealing with it, rather than me TELLING you all about it.
Yeesh. All attention on this story is appreciated.