Ahsoka's POV

This rag definitely not helping very much: each time I would go to wipe Anakin's chest; the blood would just smear even more. I decided I would just let the blood dry a bit, so it would flake off when I rubbed it with a rag.

I drop the rag to the ground with a splat, and sit on the edge of Anakin's bed. He had been weaving in and out of consciousness for the past few hours. So, to waste time I just aimlessly check over his oxygen tank, as he wasn't very talkative- even when he was awake. The doctor stated he was stable, so they left, and I have been the only one with him in the infirmary.

The doctors instead went to conduct Shmi's surgery. They said to me that the surgery wouldn't take as long as Anakin's had, so I expect to see her before dark. At least, I hope I do.

Anakin's chest had started to bleed from the scar again. I don't waste time with the rag, and instead use my sleeve to wipe the blood. His chest is still warm and hard, but it seems to me his blood has run cold. I merely swab the liquid up on my sleeve, and wash it down the sink drain. Not the cleanest way to remove the excess blood, but it was more effective.

Maybe I should have use Anakin's spare robe in the corner of the room? No matter, better on my sleeve than dripping all over the place. Just as I come back from cleaning my sleeve, Anakin groans painfully. I rush over to hush him. I help him it up in his bed, wipe the sweat from his forehead, neck and pecks, and settle him back under the covers.

"A-Ahsoka? Is that you?"

I nod, even though he still has his eyes shut. I really do hate so see Anakin like this. He reacted the same way when I was bed written and pregnant. I had never known until now, seeing him groan and paw at the air in front of him, that I have the same paternal trait over Anakin.

I just resume my position at the end of my bed, though I still feel guilty. I slip in beside Anakin, under the thick infirmary blanket, and place an arm around him. iHiHis groaning stops immediately after I massage his forearm lightly. Maybe all he needed was someone there, physically more than spiritually. I hope everything will be back to normal soon, wait. I know.

A week later, Anakin is released from the infirmary. He was cleared earlier than the doctors had estimated earlier, but he was more than happy to get out of there. He was in a much better condition than he was last time, regardless of how long it had been. His scar across his chest was less bloody, but I still had to clean it now and then.

Anakin was never the one to admit he wasn't well, but his body preceded him.

"I'll get it, Snips. No problem." He mutters as I offer to get him a glass of water. I gently push him back down into hid bed and continue to the latrine. The familiar glass sat on the edge of the sink, almost waiting for me.

I bring the full cup out to Anakin, who gulps it down greedily. I wipe off sweat from his chest and sit down next to him.

I snap back to common sense as I eye his pale face. I need to help him recover faster.

"Master, do you see that robe over there?" I ask, pointing to my grey cloak, which has grown too small over the past few months. He nods, so I continue.

"Can, you bring it over here? With the force?" I say, brushing the hair back from his face.

Anakin gulps down the last of his water, his eyes still locked on the hanging cloak, "Uh, I guess so."

He shuts his eyes, outstretches his hand and channels the force. I can see sweat forming on his forehead as he continues to concentrate. My hands get just as clammy as I hope for the best.

Unfortunately, the robe just collapses off the hook, into a lump on the floor. He pounds the bed in frustration. I too am I little upset. This failure is not a very good sign of improvement. That aside, I ask him to try again, with something else.

"Okay good try, how about that pillow on the other bed?" I motion to the bed opposite his. I decided to pick something a little closer this time, helping him out a little bit more. I cross my fingers just as Anakin straightens up, focusing yet again.

I suspect the same result as the cloak, but I get something a little bit better: the pillow hovers in mid-air, before lumping beneath my feet.

I nearly jump for joy, "Great! But let's see if you can bring something right to us."

"Okay," He seems a little more confident this time, "here it goes."

He circles around the room for something to use, until I silently point to a sculpture of a tower on the armour. Anakin outstretches his hand once more. I can almost predict that the sculpture will move right to us, I just know it.

The shards of glass connect with my face before I can make an effort to stop them. I collapse to the ground in a huff, cradling my wounded cheek.

"Ahsoka!"

Anakin makes a quick effort to help me up, but I think it was slower than he intended it to be. I feel his dewy palms lift my under arms until I'm standing. My cheek has gone numb, so I take this as an opportunity to pick out the shards without serious pain.

"I'm sorry, Ahsoka. I didn't mean it. I couldn't help it; it was like it was controlling me." He begs for forgiveness. I can't speak clearly, so instead I just wrap my arms around his neck in thanks.

Because as much as I am in pain, I'm happier he has the force back under his belt.

I step figuratively around the sculptures shards which decorate the floor like stars in the sky. The full extent of my injury is not revealed until I get to the latrine mirror. Luckily, the wound is not more than a scratch and some blood.

I wash my face with water, before exiting one more to Anakin. I am about to congratulate him, but I find he's quite comfortably asleep, tuckered out from today.

I laugh to myself, before clicking off the lamp and leaving for bed.