Chapter 13 – Therapy

Author's Note: Please take note of the warnings, and take care of yourself everyone!

WARNING: Self-harm thoughts, suicidal thoughts/feelings, and general darkness!

~ Amina Gila

It doesn't get easier. Or at least it doesn't get easier as fast as Anakin had thought it might. More often than not, he still doesn't feel like getting up, especially since it's not like he has anything that he needs to do anyway. Even after Ahsoka considers volunteering to help out with refugees on Alderaan for one or two days a week, Anakin still can't muster up the energy to do anything. He can't even help himself anymore, so how can he possibly think that he can help someone else?

Three weeks have passed since they left the Order, and Ahsoka is gone to Alderaan – she'll be back tomorrow. Anakin can tell how much it's helping her to be able to do something to help others again, even if it's not normally the kind of thing that she's used to. She couldn't take sitting still, and she had been elated to go out and help. Anakin refused to take that away from her; he even encouraged her to go to help where she can even if that meant that he'll be alone at the apartment for a couple days in a row except at night when Padme isn't at the Senate.

It wasn't good. It wasn't good at all, not when Anakin keeps waking up from nightmares, and finds himself unable to sleep properly no matter how tired he actually feels. It's frustrating, or it would be if he could actually feel some emotion other than apathy or grief. He keeps second guessing himself and his decision to leave the Order. At least if he was a Jedi, he could be helping and doing something useful. Now, he's doing nothing but being a burden to everyone.

A part of him has been so tempted to send a message to Obi-Wan and tell him that he made a mistake in leaving. If he did, he knows that Obi-Wan would readily forgive him and encourage him to come back. Probably, that is. But it doesn't matter anyway, since he turned off his comm. He hasn't wanted to contact anyone, hasn't wanted to see the messages from Obi-Wan that he knows he'll undoubtedly be receiving.

Worse yet, he might be getting no messages at all. He might not have gotten a message from Obi-Wan telling him that he's leaving again, going back to the fronts. Anakin heard it on the news which he had left playing for no reason except to cover up the silence in the apartment with Ahsoka's absence and Padme being gone to the Senate.

He had heard that Obi-Wan was shipping out on another mission to an undisclosed location, one which must be classified, and for the rest of the day, all he could think was that he's not there. He's not with Obi-Wan, and it's true that they often didn't get the same missions, but Anakin could still go to Obi-Wan if it was needed. Now, he's not even a Jedi. He can't go to Obi-Wan's side when his former master inevitably needs a rescue. He – he's on Coruscant, and he'll never know, he'll never be told. Obi-Wan could – he could –

And it would be real this time, and it would be all Anakin's fault. He can't have that on his conscience; it would drive him to madness if merely feeling Obi-Wan's death and knowing he could have stopped it but was too selfish to try didn't kill him first.

The possibilities are endless, and he couldn't sleep, not when knowing that Obi-Wan is out there, probably in a battle. Is he alright? Is he injured? Will he really be okay without Anakin to cover for him? They've always done everything together for so many years that it feels so wrong for them to now be apart. He never really considered it, never gave it any thought. When he should have been thinking about Obi-Wan, he was only thinking about himself.

But –

But… he couldn't have stayed, could he?

He was – he was falling apart then, and he still is even now. He isn't really any better than he was when he first left the Order half a month ago. Three weeks. It feels like a lifetime ago. If he hadn't left, would he have even been in the right headspace to go on missions and do them properly? Or would he have only dragged Obi-Wan into unnecessary danger?

Anakin has no idea, and he'll never know. All he knows is that his mind won't shut up, and he feels like he's slowly losing the last bits of his sanity. He can't sleep, and that's why he's currently standing in Padme's kitchen, toying with a kitchen knife, and wondering if he should just slit his forearm open and be done with it all. If he did it, it would all be over. He wouldn't have to deal with all of these overwhelming questions and uncertainties. It would be quiet, peaceful. It would be over.

This – he hasn't actually thought any of this through, but he's so tired of thinking now. It only feels like he's confusing himself more as he tries. But he knows that – that he doesn't want to die per se. He just wants things to be… easier. (He wants to stop missing Obi-Wan like a piece of him was cruelly ripped away.)

He presses the edge of the knife against his wrist, and just holds it there. If he pushes even a fraction harder, he'll break skin and draw blood. But that's not what he wants. The feelings – or lack thereof – overwhelming him can't be driven away by hurting himself. They're too much. It's all too much, too much, toomuchtoomuch.

A quiet noise from behind him alerts him to Padme's approach – he must have woken her up when he slipped from their bed; if Artoo was here, he might suspect him, but Artoo is still at the Temple, and Anakin hasn't had the courage to go back there to get his few possessions – and he hastily pulls the knife away from his arm, lightly sliding it away from him across the counter. It's too late to hide it, but maybe he can come up with a reasonable explanation for why he's in the kitchen, in the dark, with a knife?

Padme stops in the doorway, turning the light on dim, radiating confusion and worry into the Force. "Ani, what are you doing?"

Anakin slowly looks at her, meeting her eyes for a moment before looking down again. "I couldn't sleep." That, at least, is the truth.

"So, you came to the kitchen," she states neutrally. "I thought that you liked being next to the fountain when you can't sleep."

Well, that is true. However, he didn't much fancy the thought of trying to drown himself, so he came for a knife instead. He can't tell Padme that, though. "I was… restless," he says instead.

Her eyes flicker around the room, and he feels it when dread sets in. "Why are you by the knife drawer, Anakin?" She sounds afraid, her face suddenly paler than it was when she first entered the room.

The silence drags on, and Anakin is acutely aware of the knife lying on the counter behind him, hidden only by his body. "I can't – I – I don't…" he stutters out, unable to coherently put together even a single sentence. He doesn't know how he feels now. Ashamed maybe. Exhausted. He feels guilt for having seriously considered ending it all, just imagining Padme coming into the kitchen to find his body in a pool of blood. But he still craves that feeling of nothing, of existing in a place beyond pain.

But not happiness though. He doesn't even know what it means; he hasn't known in months, maybe even longer, maybe ever.

"Were you going to kill yourself?" Padme asks quietly, her tone open, inviting, despite the tremor that he can still hear in it.

He reaches up, roughly shoving his flesh hand through his curls and tugging sharply. "I don't know. I don't – I don't know. Maybe."

"You know you can talk to me." She moves closer, cautiously, as if he's a wild animal that she's trying not to spook. It's probably an apt description, but he feels something inside him twist sharply and bitterly when he sees it. Shame. He feels shame. For having considered it. For having even thought about putting her through such a thing. She is good. She is so very good, and he doesn't deserve her. He doesn't, but she's still here with him despite everything. She shouldn't be, though. She should leave and find someone who can actually make her happy instead of staying with him when he's such a mess and making her miserable.

He flinches back when she reaches for him, and she pulls back, looking stricken. "Sorry," he mutters, still looking away from her; he can't look at her now. He can't. He doesn't deserve to. "I don't – I hate feeling… like this." He sucks a breath in, because he needs to breathe even if he wants to stop entirely. "I can't… deal with it. I can't. I thought… I thought that I could. I can't. I don't – I don't want to feel like this. I just… want it all to stop."

Distantly, he wonders if she's ever dealt with a situation like this before – (he won't find out until later that she did research on it in case, just in case) – because she's not openly panicking like he thought she might… and like he probably would if he was in her place. "Perhaps you should reconsider seeing someone?" Padme questions, hesitant, as if she fears he'll run. "I can't promise you that it will help, but it's worth a try, at least, isn't it? You don't have to decide anything right now. Maybe we can just… go back to bed. Would you like that?"

Anakin has no idea what he wants or – or anything really, but he does know that he doesn't want to go back to bed. The thought of lying down, of Padme wrapping herself around him is just… something. It's – it's – he doesn't want that now. "I – I think I want to be alone," he says in a rush. Maybe he can reach out to the warm glow of the Force, of the Light and connect with it, letting it soothe him in the way it has been ever since this all started.

He has a strange relationship with the Force now, one he can't properly put into words. The Force feels more sentient to him, and its power is sharper, stronger, like when he fought Sidious. He can't quite remember all of it, but he does remember some of it, and he remembers the Force roaring in his ears, whiting out the human and conscious part of his mind and overwhelming his senses. The Force had protected him then, kept him alive when he should have died.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Padme admits. "Maybe we can sit in the living room?"

"Okay," he agrees quietly, hardly even caring. He shuffles to the doorway, hearing the movements behind him as Padme puts the knife back where it belongs. By the time that she comes to join him, he's already sitting on the couch, curled into a ball in the corner of it, arms wrapped around his knees. She sits on the other end, but she doesn't say anything, and doesn't make any attempt at moving closer to him for which he's grateful.

It's – it's – normally, Anakin would want to be touched; he always seeks it out, always wants more from people he knows, but something is different tonight, and he can't really explain how or way. It just is. If – if Obi-Wan was here, he doesn't think he'd mind. He thinks he might like that, actually, but Obi-Wan isn't here so it doesn't matter.

The Force is what curls around him, protectively, comfortingly, offering him a solace that no one else in the galaxy can.

He can feel Padme glancing at him, though she says nothing, sitting there quietly, offering him merely her presence. It will have to be enough. He doesn't look back at her, and he keeps his head lowered, eyes fixed on the floor. With the darkness in the room, Padme doesn't see it when Anakin finally, finally breaks down and silently cries for the first time since he left the Order three weeks ago.

**w**

Ahsoka would deny being anxious, even though she is. She has been on edge ever since she got back from Alderaan a week ago to hear from Padme that Anakin had decided to see a therapist. Anakin had been very tight-lipped about the whole thing, only saying that Padme thought he should try which is why he went.

It wasn't the full truth, she could tell, but she doesn't know what it is that she's missing. Or maybe it's that she doesn't want to know. She could ask Padme, and Padme would probably tell her, but Ahsoka has not asked. She is… scared. She's scared, because she can put together enough from the worried glances Padme keeps giving Anakin in the evenings, tracking his movements as if afraid he'll disappear. And all of Padme's handmaids have been coming in and out far more frequently than before, not to mention that Padme moved the knifes in the kitchen.

Ahsoka knows what it all probably means, but she – she can't think about it. She can't let herself consider the possibility of Anakin – of – of that happening, can't conceive the idea of Anakin doing something so drastic. He wouldn't really do that, would he? She has no idea. He hardly talks anymore, hardly even looks at her or anyone, hardly eats or – or anything. When she's at the apartment instead of being away on relief missions on Alderaan, it's hard to even get him to leave his bedroom sometimes.

In all the time that Ahsoka has known Anakin, he has never been one to sit around, so still and motionless, and it terrifies her. It feels like she's losing him, bit by bit, and she doesn't know how to stop it. Going to Alderaan, if only on short trips, is probably a way of running from it. It is a way of running from it. It's an escape, and Ahsoka knows that she shouldn't do it, but she doesn't want to stay here, day after day, watching over Anakin and being trapped in such a small space. Besides, Anakin encouraged her to go, to get out, and the only times when he's seemed even remotely present – and maybe content – is when she's regaling him with the stories of her journeys. He seems happy that she's happy.

But everything only seems to be getting worse, Anakin is only getting worse, and she doesn't even know how to help anymore, or if she even can.

She tries not to visibly perk up when she senses Anakin's return, his Force presence getting stronger as the handmaid – or whoever it was – brings him back from his appointment; he hasn't flown himself for reasons that she hasn't asked about. It's only a few minutes later that Anakin comes into the living room, dropping face first onto the couch with a groan.

"How was it?" she asks, her curiosity getting the best of her, even though she knows better than to probe.

"Awful," Anakin mumbles into the couch cushions, his voice somewhat muffled. "I am never going back again. It was worse than being flayed alive. I would much rather face down Grievous on my own."

"Oh dear," Ahsoka says sympathetically, coming to sit on the edge of the couch next to him, patting his arm. "Was it really that bad?"

"Worse," he gripes, radiating exhaustion into the Force. He turns his head to look at her, and she does her best to not react to the dullness of his eyes. "It was – it would have been easier to face Grievous and Dooku alone."

"You would lose," she can't help but point out, lightly tugging one of his curls.

He half-heartedly swats at her hand before dropping his face back onto the cushions. "That is precisely my point, Snips."

Why did Padme think Anakin going to therapy was a good idea, anyway? Ahsoka knows that Anakin has been depressed, but from what she knows about therapy, it's just… talking. Talking to someone and detailing your problems. How could that help? Well, okay, she can understand it somewhat maybe, because Anakin always encouraged her to talk to him if something was bothering her. But she knows him. Talking to a complete stranger seems like it would be more terrifying than anything else.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Ahsoka wants to know, her thigh touching his arm as she lightly pats his head. She likes the feel of his hair, okay? Humans are a strange species, and hair is quite pointless in her opinion, but it feels cool.

"Lay here," he grumbles. "I will lay here. Do not disturb me if it's anything less than the end of the universe upon you."

Sleepy head, she nearly teases, but withholds the comment, because she doesn't know how he'll take it. "Well, I hope you don't mind if I watch a holofilm," she chirps. "A loud holofilm. And don't you dare turn it off because it's annoying you."

"Me?" Anakin deadpans. "I would never."

Ahsoka giggles at that, momentarily feeling lighter and happier than she has ever since they first left the Order, and she feels a softening in Anakin's presence, some of his tension and tiredness fading away. She pets his hair for another few seconds before bouncing up to put on the holofilm that is apparently based off the war. It's quite popular, and she's eager to take it to pieces and destroy it. Is that petty? Maybe, but she could care less.

Anakin sleeps – or pretends to sleep – through the first hour of it before he rolls onto his side to watch it, too, no matter how disinterested in it he appears to be. After it finishes, Ahsoka nitpicks about it to him, dragging him into the kitchen to oversee her and Threepio cook something for dinner when Padme gets back.

Today has been a better day, no matter how disastrous Anakin's therapy session turned out.

Padme isn't happy, of course, to hear Anakin's conviction that he doesn't want to go back, and they… discuss it, but he doesn't budge. It's awful, Ahsoka overhears him saying, no matter how much she's trying to not eavesdrop on them, but they are right on the other side of the wall in Padme's office. It's like jabbing an open wound. I'm not going back. I can't do that. I only feel worse. He doesn't listen to Padme's attempts at assuring him that that's a normal part of healing.

And Ahsoka doesn't know how to feel. It's not like she knows the first thing about mental health. She didn't know it was a thing until Padme told her about it. As a Jedi… well, she was seen as lacking if she flinched in situations when there's no danger or automatically scanned everything everywhere, searching for enemies even at the Temple. It's – it's not something she likes thinking about, so she supposes that she can understand how Anakin feels. Talking about these… things don't seem like they could be helpful.

But what does she know? She could be wrong.

Anakin comes out to the balcony without a word after he talks to Padme, sitting on the edge and staring morosely at the city, and after a few minutes, Ahsoka joins him, leaning into his side. "What now?" she murmurs, fidgeting a little. "What will you do now?"

Anakin opens his mouth before closing it and shaking his head with a heavy sigh, not responding. He feels so… sad, and it makes Ahsoka hurt, because she hates seeing him like this, though she doesn't know how she can help or what she could even do. She feels helpless, and she hates that. It reminds her of how she felt when she realized the truth, of how she felt in the Halls of Healing, holding his prosthetic as if her grip alone could be enough to stop him from doing something even worse to himself.

He doesn't answer, and Ahsoka doesn't know what else to say, so they sit there together in silence.

**w**

The Force screams out a shrill warning, and Obi-Wan spins instinctively, slashing through the end of the blaster pointed at his head and Force shoving the clone backwards. The trooper hits the wall, falling to the floor before he stands, unsteadily, lunging towards Obi-Wan again with a strange, single-minded focus as if the rest of the battle around them doesn't matter.

"Stand down," Obi-Wan barks, shoving the clone back with the Force once more. It's a member of the 501st, of Anakin's legion which is now under Obi-Wan's command.

The battle around them continues furiously, the clones and droids exchanging fire far faster than Obi-Wan can keep track of on his own. A stun bolt slams into the clone, and Rex, who is now a Commander, hurries over. The relationship between them is… strained now, very much so. After they had left for the fronts half a month ago, Rex had tried to speak to him, tried to offer some sort of… camaraderie, and Obi-Wan had not reacted well.

In retrospect, he's ashamed by his own behavior, by how he all but yelled at Rex for trying to be nice. Cody had been angry at him, and Obi-Wan apologized to both Rex and Cody after he calmed himself, but nothing has been the same since. They are both cordial with him, of course, but they are also distant, reserved.

He might be bothered by it if he actually took the time to care.

Instead, he's been throwing himself into work, into battles, pushing forwards through sheer willpower. If he stops to think, he has to face that he's alone out here, that – that Anakin isn't here with him. He can't face that, so he doesn't, single-mindedly focusing on one campaign after another, relentless.

"Restrain him. Find out what's going on. Deal with it," Obi-Wan orders brusquely before turning back to the mission at hand. The only thing that matters is the battle. He doesn't even take the time to hear Rex's answer before he's pushing forwards again. He's not being actively risky, or riskier than usual that is, but… he's not… not either. Ringo Vinda is an important turning point in the war, and Obi-Wan cannot afford to get distracted.

He finds out after there's a lull in the fighting that the clone trooper, Tup, his name is, seemed to have something wrong with him, because he wouldn't stop saying "good soldiers follow orders" once he woke up, so Rex sent him back to Kamino along with Fives to see if they could determine what happened to him.

"We need to get to the command center up ahead, but the resistance is heavy," Cody reports.

Obi-Wan studies the holomap for a moment before reaching a decision. "I will go. Provide a diversion for me." It's something that Anakin would do. Anakin –

If he was here, this battle might already have been won, but he's not here. He'll never be here with Obi-Wan again, so he needs to accept that. He can't.

All he feels is the same gnawing coldness in his chest, the pervading chill that has never left him ever since Anakin left and it fully sunk in what he had lost. He has not been handling it well, he knows. His mood has been far more snappish, his plans far more insane and dangerous, even if they're still winning with relatively minimal casualties. He himself has been going further than ever before.

Ruthlessness. That's what it is, though he would never voice, much less accept that.

He's off to his destination as soon as Cody gives the signal, Artoo following behind him to splice into the Separatist systems if needed. When Obi-Wan returned to the fronts, he brought Anakin's droid with him. If he can't have his best friend at his side, then he can at least have the droid that Anakin always trusted. Artoo has been helpful in many ways, or maybe it's just that it's the only thing – organic and not – that can tolerate him anymore.

Obi-Wan has barely entered the command center when the opposite door slides open, and the Separatist leader in charge of this campaign clanks through. "General Kenobi," Grievous rasps with glee, "We have been waiting for you."

Too late, Obi-Wan realizes that he has walked right into a trap.

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