Ahsoka's POV

Shmi fortunately finished her dinner earlier than I had expected. So I decided to bring her down to greet Anakin at the temple's entrance. He hadn't contacted me since he left Mandalore, so I expect there is nothing urgent to tell me. The supplies are in a suitable condition from what he had told me, so I expect good news upon his arrival.

I tuck Shmi tightly in a blanket I had started to weave since I gave birth. I hadn't continued it in a while, so the strands of purple and blue bantha yarn are still in uneven strands. Though, Shmi seems salivate on its corner every time I bring it to her, so I decided to leave it how it is for now.

The snow storm outside had started to turn to sleet, the fluffy snowflakes turning to strands of dewy water in the blistering wind. Not the most spectacular sight to see so constantly in a day.

Once we stop at the temple doors, I fold over the blanket and let Shmi glare out the window behind us. She squats down on her knees and taps on the glass, making swirls in the foggy pane. I hardly pay attention to her laughing face as she traces a crude design of Master Yoda's head- or as she calls him "Yoki".

My mind seems to take over as we sit in silence. The rushing events of the past flush back in to my subconscious. It had not even been a year ago since I gave birth, but I would have been a few months pregnant, just returning to the temple from Nilban. I've been ecstatic for Shmi's upcoming birthday granted I would be here or not. No matter, I will still be with her in spirit.

"A little tired, Snips?"

I my arms fly around Anakin before I can fathom he's arrived. He flings Shmi up in his arms, her laugh becoming shriller each time she gets bounced around. Obi-Wan and Master Dell enter behind me, a squad of clones pushing a silver crate, I assume to be the supplies.

Obi-Wan steps forward, patting his hand on my shoulder, "The mission was a success. Though, we hadn't expected a droid battalion to be waiting for us."

My mouth flops open, "You were ambushed?"

"A little more than that." Dell motions to his bloody shoulder blade, then to Anakin's scratched face.

"That's unfortunate, Master." I grimace at his wound. I had never expected a simple pick-up scenario could have such disastrous results. From what Anakin had mentioned about his meeting with the Chancellor, everything was going to run smoothly.

Anakin, Shmi and I say goodbye to Obi-Wan and Dell who were going to deliver the supplies to the infirmary. For safety reasons, the surgery was scheduled for tomorrow morning.

Anakin still seemed content for surgery, so I have no real worries for tonight: the three of us are going to watch The Hecla Moil Show on the holonet. The show had temporarily been on hiatus since I was on it a few months ago. The Senate did not agree with putting a jedi on the show, though the Chancellor arranged it. The show was put on a temporary halt until further notice.

Anakin and I push together our cots, creating a larger more comfortable bed. We plop Shmi in the middle with a bottle and tune in to the holonet.

Hecla walks out onto stage with a bejewelled cane and a lavish robe. Of course, a few models accompany him to his seat, like they had for years. They each had a signature style gown, and a matching headdress to match. I remember my cream gown I had worn on the show. It still hung in my armour, singed near the bottom, but sparkling everywhere else. I refused to get it cleaned when the temple offered. To this day, I have no clue why.

The applause is thunderous from behind the camera. I assume because of the show's much anticipated return. All around Coruscant, signs, flyers and the occasional ship would fly overhead, with the talk show host's face plastered over the side. It had become one of those things you would smirk at, but not really acknowledge fully.

Hecla takes a couple of bows before he sits, the gorgeous models disappearing behind the curtains.

Of course, Anakin thinks that Hecla is too charismatic for his liking, or a little too confident. However, I see a more diplomatic side of the host than he may. Hecla continues to speak about how happy he is to have his show back, cracking a pun every now and then to keep the audience interested. I find it quite amusing, but Anakin just tickles Shmi's stomach, though I can tell he is holding back laughter.

The audience grows quiet when I tune back in to the show. I listen closely to understand the reason.

"-and they just won't leave her, or her child alone. Talk about disrespect."

I soon realise that he is talking about Shmi and I, and how the Separatists keep the plots of destruction for the both of us going. I can hardly believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. If he got cancelled for having me on the show, I can hardly imagine what will happen when this comes into question.

"- in fact I propose a toast, to the young jedi and her daughter. And if the Separatists ever dare to attack the jedi again, they'll have to go through me first- or my entourage."

The audience's thunderous applause returns with burst of laughter as well. I still have goose-bumps from his earlier statement. Was he really this committed to our protection? I'd better let this settle down before talking about it in public.

For a couple of minutes, the three of us just sit in silence. Shmi plays with her montral's tips as Anakin and I just exchange looks. After a while, the ease of conversation making returns like an old friend, who had been gone for too long.

Anakin has to go prep for surgery, so he offered to take Shmi down to the infirmary on his way. I say goodbye, after he helps me rearrange the furniture back to normal. I rustle under the covers and drift to sleep, feeling a little- important, if that makes any real sense. Though I can never be too sure what is real and what is just

I mean, I never thought I would have a child, and here I am. One who is soon to be healthy, like any other jedi child, right?