Content Warning/Author's Note: No gritty details yet in this chapter, but Ahsoka is in pain and drugged. Please enjoy some angst and R2's first appearance! (Do you guys call him R2 or Artoo? I think I may flip flop between the two. "Artoo" is just cute in my opinion! :) )

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Off of Geonosis

Chapter 6

As the white and blue rays of lightspeed streaked over his ship's canopy, Anakin cursed the concept of time and space. The medical station was over an hour away, even in hyperspace, even in his smaller, faster, more maneuverable starfighter. Which left Anakin alone with his thoughts and his fears for longer than he'd like.

Before he'd left the Resolute, he'd tried Ahsoka's comm channel again, without success. He didn't even know if she'd succeeded in rupturing the coolant system. And if she hadn't before Bariss or one of the troopers had gotten to her first…

Anakin frustratedly tried to release his feelings to the Force. Again.

R2 beeped from his place in the starship. Ahsoka will be well-functioning.

As usual, Anakin felt that his droid understood him better than most people did, even with his mechanical vernacular. He managed a small smile for the R2 unit. "Thanks buddy. I hope you're right."

At the beeping from his ship's console, Anakin straightened in his seat, grasping the controls. "Coming out of hyperspace, R2. Prep your scanners. I want to know the extent of the transport's damage."

With a whoosh, the yellow starfighter slowed to sub-light speed, the medical station ahead. Anakin quickly disconnected from his ship's hyperspace ring and circled the station's ports. It looked like Ahsoka's transport had docked successfully. And R2 beeped out that the coolant system had ruptured. Both good signs. And yet the Force rumbled deep in Anakin's chest, growling with a dread that made him catch his breath.

Quickly he scanned the medical station, searching out Ahsoka's Force signature, feeling for the sparking light that belonged only to her. Their training bond prickled like an itch. She was here somewhere. That alone made him breathe a sigh of relief. From what he could sense, she was somewhere on one of the upper, more private medical floors of the facility, but her presence was foggy. Anakin's brows furrowed. Was she sedated?

He bristled. Ahsoka hated being drugged. He reached through the Force to tug at their training bond— but before he could, the comm channel of his ship flickered and chimed.

"Fighter, please identify yourself." A clone's voice stated.

"This is Jedi General Anakin Skywalker. Direct me to a port, trooper."

"Very well, General. Standby."

Anakin reached out again, tugging on his bond with Ahsoka. It only took the tiniest pressure before her mental shields slipped, a flood of dazed thoughts and feelings assaulting him.

ithurtsithurts. Bariss. whathaveidone

Anakin nearly recoiled at the pain that flashed over his senses. Kriff. She was injured. And from the lack of shields and dullness in her Force presence, possibly also unconscious. Anakin steeled himself, gently pulling at her hurt like he was lifting rocks from her body, extracting her from another mound of rubble. He'd been so close to losing her then, on Geonosis. But even in that living tomb, she hadn't been in so much pain... With a grimace, he heaved her hurting burdens onto himself and released them into the Force for her. Then, he focused on her befuddled mind.

Snips. I'm here. You're gonna be okay.

She didn't respond. Anakin's grip tightened around his fighter's throttle lever until his knuckles popped. R2 beeped in the back. What did she say?

Anakin's comm crackled to life. "Proceed to bay 15, General Skywalker. General Fisto has agreed to meet you there."

"Thank you, trooper."

Anakin took the ship down, quickly docking and pulling himself from the pilot's seat. R2 ejected just as fast, landing at his side with a few beeps. As promised, Master Fisto strode forward to greet them, but Anakin had already reached the door before the master stepped two feet beyond it.

"Master." Anakin gave him a curt nod. "What happened?"

The Nautolan Jedi simply folded his arms behind his back. "Follow me. It would be best to discuss these things inside."

Anakin frowned. Usually, Master Fisto greeted his fellow Jedi with a smile. One of the few to manage the expression in this blasted war. He trotted to catch up with the master, biting his tongue against the barrage of questions he wanted to ask. As soon as the doors hissed behind them, Anakin whirled on the other Jedi.

"Master Fisto?" Anakin asked warily, "What's going on? Where's Ahsoka?"

"Calm yourself, Skywalker. Your padawan is recovering."

"Recovering?"

"From hypothermia, first of all. Her attire is not exactly suited for sub-zero temperatures."

Anakin grimaced. He'd been meaning to talk with her about that. He understood the desirability of the tube top while on a hot planet like Geonosis, but even then, as Commander and General, they were always in war zones. And a piece of flimsy fabric covering a third of her torso was not exactly what Anakin would call protective armor. Only… Anakin remembered thinking that a discussion about her clothing choices would morph into another fight. And he had already been struggling with their first one.

"However, it seems that most of her injuries stem from a fight with padawan Bariss Offee." Master Fisto continued, striding down a white-walled hall. "We were nervous. She's undergone a surgery and two procedures already—"

"Procedures? What about consent?" Anakin didn't specify who's. He doubted Ahsoka was conscious at the time of the decision, and if she wasn't, he was supposed to be the person they asked next. He already suspected the medics were keeping her drugged; that was bad enough. But procedures could be anything, and Anakin knew his padawan hated some healing protocol just as much as he did.

Master Fisto only frowned.

"They were necessary."

Anakin swallowed hard. Almost subconsciously, he reached out to Ahsoka somewhere in these corridors, pressing his mind against her tethered Force presence as if he was pressing his forehead to hers. He could feel her strained breaths ebbing in the Force, the thrum of her heartbeat, the glimmer of her presence. Anakin exhaled a breath. She really was still alive. He glanced up to the Nautolan. "How is she now?"

Master Fisto regarded him silently. "You may have a better answer to that question than I do."

Her Force presence flared. Anguish budded on the edge of her consciousness. Anakin wrenched his neck toward the source and gritted his teeth. He'd been searching for her precise location the moment he stepped foot on the platform. It was unmistakable now. Even from two floors below, he sensed her writhing in pain. Anakin tugged it away from her again, releasing it to the Force. It didn't calm her much. He pursed his lips. "Take me to her."

...

The moment Ahsoka rolled onto her left side, stabbing pain shot up her abdomen. Her eyes flung open wide, her mouth gaping like a fish, halfway between a gasp and a prayer and willing herself to breathe. Her throat was raw. The air wouldn't fill her lungs. Slowly, she flattened back on her back, but even that motion lit up her side. She took small, quick breaths, dropping her head to the pillow below, her face contorted into a grimace. Her thoughts wouldn't focus. The world was cloudy. Was there dust in the air— like she was again buried alive under the Geonosian factory? She hadn't been able to breathe then either. She grasped around for something to hold on to, but she shifted too fast and the shooting pain returned. She went rigid. Her eyes twitched from corner to corner.

She didn't know where she was. She had been on the frigate. It had been cold. Ahsoka shivered and again in her torso there was a stab. Gingerly, she fingered her side, just under where her tube top stopped, except the red garment wasn't there anymore. It'd been replaced by a blue hospital gown that faintly crinkled when her hand floated across it. There was a bandage over her side and beneath it, methodically spaced indents. Some part of her mind suggested that meant stitches, but it was fleeting and unretainable, so Ahsoka gave up, staring at her fingers instead. She couldn't finish a thought or will herself to solve the mystery of her location. Her fingertips were tinted purple. The rest throbbed red. She squinted, bringing her palm closer to her face. The florescent overhead lights weren't on, but there was a white lamp at her side, the light blinding. Her reddened hand blocked it from her eyes. The light bent around her fingers, accenting the creases in her palms, and Ahsoka gawked. Red skin. Yellow light. Green and purple veins. It was half a rainbow… But her skin was supposed to be orange. She frowned. And where was the blue? There was a hum in her montrals. She wasn't sure if it was growing louder or not. Her eyes blinked unseeing over the ceiling, to the wall beyond (slick and white), to the window view to her right (dark and empty), to her bed. There was an IV in her right elbow, with blue tape over it. A blanket rested over her legs and most of her chest. Blue again.

There's the blue. Ahsoka thought deliriously. Blue. Blue, blue, blue.

The imagery of a blue lightsaber blade flashing toward her face made Ahsoka catch her breath again. Bariss. She remembered feeling her throat close, her lungs burn. She'd swiped her saber across the other girl in desperation. Oh Force… What had she done?

Distant, in a place far far away, she felt a familiar presence tug away her pain. She was grateful. Everything hurt. Her breaths were still staggered. She couldn't remember what she was thinking about before the weight lifted. Something was seriously wrong.

Ahsoka shook her head, her lekku shifting over her collarbone. Immediately, the room spun. Like she was on a ship with no stabilizers or practiced too many backflips in saber training. Ahsoka clung to the blue blanket, and suddenly the feeling that she was trapped returned. Pinned under this blue blanket, shackled by the IV, restrained by the crushing pain in her chest and head. She was back under the rubble, mind fuzzy. The air was heavy, the ceiling compacting. She raised her hands to block it and pain punctured her midsection. A cry died in her throat. Her back tensed; her hands fell to her sides. Her pulse echoed through her montrals.

She needed to get a grip. She squeezed her eyes shut and held it. One…two…three— She flung her eyes open and suddenly the ceiling wasn't falling anymore. Though she was still asphyxiating under these rapid short breaths.

In and out. She thought. Like Master Yoda taught in meditation. And Anakin taught her to self-diagnose injuries while they were on the battlefield. What were her symptoms? She fought against the brain fog. Chest hurts. Side hurts. Head hurts. She tried to wiggle her fingers. They burned and somehow were numb at the same time. She wasn't sure if they were all there. Ahsoka frowned. She should count them. Forcing her eyes wide, she held her left hand before her face.

1..2…3…4… Do thumbs count as fingers? She chewed on her tongue. Her veins were still purple. Her hand flopped back down to the bed. The purple squiggles flickered before her vision while she nodded in exhaustion, eyelids fluttering.

Blast! She was supposed to be documenting symptoms. Ahsoka flung her eyes open. Document her symptoms. Injuries. Anakin had taught her. Her eyes rimmed with tears, her nose burning under the pressure. Anakin would be so disappointed.

She sighed, though it felt more like she deflated. Her shoulders sagged, tired. Again, her eyes flickered shut. Where was Anakin?

Ahsoka succumbed to sleep.

...

To me this really doesn't seem like enough writing for the amount of time I spent brooding over this story lol. Y'all can't see it, but I've done a ton of behind the scenes plotting these past few weeks and I'm really excited about where this fic is going! So stay tuned! Official diagnosis of Ahsoka's injuries will come next week.

Thanks for reading! Please review if you feel so inclined.