A/N:

Anisoka Week 2023

This is for the prompt "Bacta".

Ahsoka awoke gradually, her consciousness emerging through a haze of discomfort. As she attempted to orient herself, her gaze drifted across unfamiliar surroundings: sterile white walls, the distinct, sweet scent of bacta, and the rough texture of starched sheets beneath her. A realization dawned on her, accompanied by a faint sense of alarm.

Attempting to raise her hand to her face, Ahsoka felt an unexpected resistance. She glanced down, discovering Anakin's distinct black and gold mechanical hand, his fingers entwined with hers in a comforting embrace. A tender smile graced her lips as she traced her gaze up his arm, finding Anakin Skywalker himself. He was curled up awkwardly in a chair far too small for his frame, the picture of protective vigilance even in sleep.

"Anakin," she called softly, her voice tinged with the rasp of prolonged rest. He remained motionless. Raising her voice slightly, "Master!"

At her call, Anakin jerked awake, his eyes scanning the room in a moment of disorientation before settling on Ahsoka with a look of profound relief and warmth. "Ahsoka," he breathed out, rising and squeezing her hand gently with his mechanical one. His gaze was intense, searching. "How do you feel?"

"Just a bit sore," she replied, her smile soft yet resilient. "What happened?"

Anakin's expression darkened subtly, the weight of recent events momentarily clouding his features. "The Separatists laid a trap," he began, his voice low. "Explosives hidden inside a line of B1s. When you flanked them, they detonated."

Ahsoka's mind raced, fragments of memory trying to piece themselves together. She recalled the rush of battle, the intensity of her focus, but then there was only a blur, a void where details should have been. The realization of the danger she had been in, the trap she had unwittingly walked into, sent a shiver through her, despite the warmth of the bacta-infused room.

As these thoughts swirled in her head, Anakin reached out, cupping her cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his warrior's exterior. The sudden warmth of his touch anchored her back to the present, a stark reminder of the contrast between the battlefield and this quiet moment of recovery.

Ahsoka responded instinctively, pressing her hand against his, their connection palpable. She met his gaze. "I was terrified, Snips..." his voice cracked. "I thought I'd lost you."

A heavy silence enveloped them, rich with unspoken emotions and shared experiences. After a moment, Ahsoka gently prodded, "And then? How did I...?"

Anakin hesitated, visibly struggling with his emotions. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He withdrew his hand, a gesture of vulnerability. "You just... came back."

He continued, his thumb caressing her skin in a subconscious attempt at reassurance. "I carried you out of there. Rex and the others covered us. But Kix... he couldn't do anything." Anakin paused, his gaze flickering with an uncharacteristic helplessness. "I held you, calling to the Force, begging it to spare you."

Ahsoka hung on his every word, sensing the depth of his turmoil. "Something happened then," he said, his voice laced with wonder. "A part of me... I felt it transfer to you. It was as if my will alone tethered you to this world."

Anakin's voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with emotion. "I couldn't lose you, Ahsoka. I just couldn't." His carefully maintained composure began to crack, allowing a torrent of emotions to seep through his mental shields. The depth of his fear, his relief at her survival, and something deeper, a bond that went beyond words, washed over her.

Ahsoka reached out, both physically and through their shared connection in the Force. "I'm here, Anakin," she assured him softly, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. "I'm right here."

Their eyes locked, a myriad of emotions swirling between them, a testament to years of unspoken feelings now surfacing. Anakin's gaze, usually so bold and confident, was now tinged with a vulnerability that spoke volumes. Slowly, he leaned in, drawn irresistibly towards her, yet a hint of hesitation lingered in his approach—a silent question, seeking permission.

Ahsoka, sensing his uncertainty and the depth of emotion behind it, made the decision for him. She bridged the gap, their lips meeting in a kiss that was gentle yet profound, a confluence of all the unsaid words, the hidden glances, and the shared hardships. It was a kiss that bore the weight of battles fought together and fears faced alone, a sealing of their bond that transcended the physical.

They parted, their foreheads still pressed together, panting from the intensity of their shared emotions. In the charged air between them, each breath seemed laden with unspoken promises and deep-seated feelings. Their hands instinctively sought each other, fingers intertwining with a sense of urgency, as if trying to anchor themselves in the wake of such a profound connection.

Anakin's eyes closed briefly, his grip tightening around her hand. He was visibly overwhelmed, not just by the kiss, but by the sheer magnitude of his care for her, the emotions enveloping him like a tangible force.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a newfound resolve in his gaze, a silent promise that resonated in the small space between them. A small smirk lifted the corner of his lips. "We should have done this a long time ago," he whispered, his voice laced with affection and a hint of humor.

At his words, a light, genuine laughter bubbled up between them, a brief but profound release after the surge of deep emotions they had just shared. It was a laughter that spoke of relief, of shared history, and of a future yet to be written—a moment of lightness amidst the gravity of their situation.

Ahsoka's laughter, though cut short by a twinge of pain, was a sound of pure joy, a testament to the strength of their connection. Anakin's concern was immediate, his expression shifting to one of protective worry. Noticing Anakin's worry, Ahsoka reassured him. "I'm okay, Anakin," she said, settling back against her pillow. "Just a bit sore."

As she laid back, Anakin leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. The faint, sweet scent of bacta that lingered on her skin was a subtle reminder of the healing yet to come, both physical and emotional. "Then I'll wait here with you until you're better," he declared softly, his voice a comforting blend of strength and tenderness.

Ahsoka's smile in response was a beacon in the sterile room, radiating warmth and gratitude. In her smile, and in his steadfast presence beside her, Anakin found a sense of peace, a feeling akin to returning home.