Nightlong
Warning: Minor mentions of self-harming, slavery, Anakin's mind Lol
~ Rivana Rita
"I – I don't understand," Rex is saying, shaking his head. His fear flickers into the Force in a twisting, rolling storm cloud. "He was following my orders, sir."
"He is the one who carried out the execution," Master Windu replies, his gold eyes icy and firm. "Unless you should like to be detained as well."
Rex is angry. Anakin feels it, rolling and twisting in the air. His own heart is pounding. The masters are angry. Here he stands, as Qui-Gon Jinn once promised he would never have to again – helpless and voiceless, watching his family be ripped apart like they're animals for the slaughter.
Nothing. He is nothing, and he never will be.
"Wait," Anakin protests, jolting forward as the Coruscanti guard move to lead Dogma to their transport. "He saved the Republic."
"He committed treason."
"He executed a corrupt official," Anakin argues, "One the courts would have deemed worthy of death."
"And under no orders but his own."
"If he is executed, how many others will lack the strength to for what we believe in?" Padme would be proud, Anakin thinks. She always tells him to think with more than his fists.
"To the contrary," Master Windu replies, "His defiance could rally others to stand against us. If the army rebels –"
"They won't, if we give them no reason to."
"You disregard the Council's orders?"
"Yes." His heart is pounding. Racing, fury burning through him, and he remembers a hand on his shoulder, firm and warm, a quiet whisper of "being a Sith will give you the strength to protect those who need it."
"I won't have to be hurt anymore?" he'd asked, voice quiet and scared.
"I cannot promise you that, Ani, but you will have the strength and skills you need to stop it."
"Dogma is under my jurisdiction. I'm his general. Nothing happens to him without my consent."
"He is under the Council's jurisdiction, young Skywalker," Windu replies, "We will decide his fate as due needed."
The gears in his hand squeal in protest from how hard they're clenched.
Tup is crying. Anakin feels it. The tremor of his Force-signature and the slight shake of his hands. Fives' hand is on his shoulder. Jesse starts jolting forward, and Kix grabs his arm, yanking him back, a whispered "wasn't nearly dying once enough? I can't do that again" catching Anakin's ear. He's on the verge of tears himself.
Dogma twists back to catch Anakin's eyes one last time. "It was an honor to serve with you, sir," he says, and then he's dragged away.
There's nothing they can do but stand and watch as another of their brothers is ripped away.
**w**
Tup is still crying when the gunship reaches the cruiser, pressed against Fives' side. Anakin is feeling increasingly sick to his stomach.
This is what they fight to protect?
Murder?
Fives rips his helmet off and throws it across the hangar. It hits the floor some meters away, rolling, nearly smacking into someone's foot. Everyone stops to watch them disembark.
No one speaks.
"What are we fighting for?" Fives demands, rounding on Anakin. He's not angry at him, but his fury outbursts have grown more frequent since the Citadel. Since Echo. "Murder?"
Once, Echo would've been beside him, grabbing his arm and ordering him to stand down, but nothing is left of Echo – the most solace Anakin has is that his death was fast, and he died for what he believed in, as all of them do. All, except Dogma, who doesn't get that luxury.
Echo, Fives' twin brother, their best friend – Anakin sees the explosion every night, remembers the heat and steam, his master's grip on his arm as he dragged him back and ordered them to move.
Anakin had dragged Fives away from the fire and blood. A part of him thinks Fives never forgave him.
Dogma is Tup's twin brother. Fives lost his, too. He knows what it's like to give your everything to someone, only for it to be ripped away.
"They're no better than Krell," he spits out, "Sacrificing us all for power."
"Fives," Anakin says firmly. Tensions are tight. Escalation could – be disastrous. "We fight for justice. The ones who killed Echo."
Fives mutters a series of unrepeatable words – Tup looks at him wide-eyed – and re-collects his helmet to throw it again.
"Rex?" Anakin requests, taking his shoulder and pulling him safely away until the emotions wear off, "Can you tell me what happened?"
"There's... not much to say, sir," Rex objects. "The reports have it all."
"I want to hear it from you. If – you're okay with it." His hands clench and unclench. Left is aching.
Rex sighs. "We thought he was a Sith, but something seemed off from the start. I should've paid more attention. Turns out he was collaborating with the Separatists."
"Hardcase?" It hurts to ask, and he should be here to celebrate victory with them, but he died knowing they would achieve it. That is what they were made for. "I'm not afraid of death," Rex had said once, looking Anakin in the eye. "Only of not completing the mission." They don't have a code to live by like Anakin does. Their code is written by the blood of their brothers who have died by it. It's a never-ending cycle, looping them back into a valley of death, but they live to die, and the most Anakin can give them is a win. Anakin, he had come to realize, is the one who fears their deaths. His boys can face it with a laugh and the knowing a million brothers will stand in their place. With the clones, no one ever really dies, and as much as their shattered bond tears their hearts out, they will always stand together.
They are never alone. Not like Anakin is.
"He saved us all," Rex confesses, "He destroyed the droid's command ship with Fives and Jesse. Krell ordered their execution for – for disobeying his direct orders."
And they had no choice but to comply.
Anakin feels lightheaded. He feels Rex's flowing grief and despair. The desperation he fought so many times as a child. Rex knows what it's like to be nothing, too.
"It came close, but Fives stopped it. He distracted us. We couldn't carry through."
Anakin's hand squeals.
"I think," he says darkly, "That I would have liked to see that death."
Rex sighs. "I'm sure you would have, sir."
Call me Anakin, he wants to ask, but he's not really a friend to them – he is their general, and when they're falling, he will be the one to carry them – they don't protect him. And if they do, it's of loyalty, not duty.
He's their friend, but he is not their brother. If he needs help, he would never turn to them, because it is a strength he needs within himself to lead them, and he does not want to put them at risk, even if they would die for him in a heartbeat.
"Kix – was on the execution squad?" Anakin guesses. He'd heard his comment to Jesse on the landing platform, and it seems like an educated guess – there is some reason he is terrified of his brother almost dying again. Of being the one forced to kill him.
"He was."
The rage that ripples inside him is fierce and overwhelming. Kix has always been so gentle with his brothers. He's a medic, and he might be a little fierce, but he's gentle, and Anakin can't imagine what being forced to shoot at his own brothers would do to him.
"The execution was interrupted when he sent us on the 212th. Told us they were Umbarans disguised as clones."
It's a good thing, Anakin decides, that Krell is already dead. Else, he'd have blood on his hands himself. He wouldn't wait for the Council to carry through a decision.
"I figured it out, and called off the attack. We went to confront Krell. We captured him, but... not before he made a lot of damage. The Separatists were attacking, and... there was too much risk of the base being overrun."
Anakin nods stiffly. Tries to force himself to breathe.
"You might want to loosen up, sir," Rex tells him dryly, "Before something breaks."
Oh, yeah. His hand is clenched tight enough he thinks something might be sparking. Doesn't need to break his own hand.
He wants to feel something crush. To rip it apart and grind it between his fingers. The one fall of metal is strength. Whenever he got good and truly angry, he used to lace his fingers together and squeeze – the stinging pain was grounding to let the anger out, but stars – if he tried now, he'd rip his good hand right off.
He left, and Krell took the best battalion in the GAR and handed them back in shambles.
Anakin forces an exhale. Wills himself not to rip apart the durasteel he stands on. The boys might appreciate it, but Admiral Yularen would not, and neither would anyone who tripped in it.
He wants to promise he will find a way to free Dogma, but that will come with a risk and a hope he cannot guarantee. "I'll talk to them," is the most he can offer. How, he does not know – this is a difficult situation for all of them.
Krell had Kix shoot at Jesse. Rex had to witness it.
Krell had them fight their own brothers. Kill them. Recovering from this will not be easy.
"Haven't told the Commander yet," Rex confesses, "None of us know how to."
Yeah. Ahsoka is hard to talk to. She will lose it when she hears. Ahsoka's rage is wild, her fury hot – she is hard to reign in. Sometimes, Anakin thinks she feels deeper than he does, but he would have no way of knowing – his mind functions – differently than most.
"I'll handle it," Anakin promises. His boys are a mess, and he needs to sort them out. Healing is a long process. He doesn't expect it to be rushed or simple. Rex shot at his own brothers, too. Anakin feels the chest-crushing exhaustion, the way he's standing through the need to move, but is lost in his grief and the loathing of his failure.
Anakin wishes he knew what to say. The most he can offer is trying to help Rex's brothers.
"Get some rest," he orders, even knowing none of them will be sleeping for a long, long time. "I'll talk to the others."
Well, tracking 'em down is hard on its own. He goes in search of Kix first. Finds him in the medbay, lingering over one of the shinies stubbornly clinging to life. Clones don't die easily. Anakin learned that fast. It's just as easy to leave and report them as dead, but they're resilient. Something about their aging, their endurance and minimal healing factor.
It takes resources that are run thinly, but his boys don't die easy.
Anakin doesn't sense Jesse nearby, which makes his heart ache even more.
He stands in the doorway, lingering, waiting, until Kix finally moves away. He doesn't look up. Kix's presence is soft, something once he could always relax into. He used to be soothing and light. Now, the shame and grief curling in him is hiding, smothering what was once so light and soft.
Anakin is beginning to think he won't. "Kix." Anakin shifts forward, rocking uncomfortably on his feet.
"Sir." He's swaying a little, unbalanced. Exhaustion. Sleep deprivation is Anakin's guess.
"Considering you're a medic, I know you're fully aware of the symptoms of sleep deprivation?"
Kix sighs. "Jesse talked to you?"
"No. I'm here on my own."
"Are –"
Anakin holds up a hand to cut him off. "I'm not here for me."
Kix huffs a sigh. "Of course not. All the stars in the galaxy would burn out before you came to the medbay willingly."
Asking if he's fine would be the worst way to escalate. Kix isn't usually so snappy. Sleep deprivation. Like he thought. And grief. He's trying to atone for what wasn't even his own fault. "Working yourself to the ground will not bring them back, Kix."
"I – I know, sir. But at least I can try to keep the rest alive."
Anakin shifts forward a little, awkwardly, and Kix sinks into one of the chairs in the room. "You did all you could for them. I know you did." Anakin sits beside him. The chair is hard, lacking all cushion, but at least he's off his feet. Probably should be resting, too, but these are the boys he left on the front, and he's the one who needs to clean up the mess he made. Every last piece of it.
"We never leave our own behind," Kix whispers, and his hands are shaking. "But that night, we left so many. Rex had us pull back."
"He was trying to look out for you," Anakin feels the need to say, "As he always does. The least he could do was keep all the rest of you alive." That is something they all know. Clones will always die, and they all understand it. They can't afford to blame their leaders for it, unless it were something overwhelmingly risky and a foolish mistake. Mistakes will always happen in war.
"But those mistakes cost lives."
"He had us shoot at our own brothers. There – there were so many dead."
Anakin ordered they never pull back until the wounded were evacuated. He'd never let the Seppies lay a finger on his boys. But how many were right under his watch?
Kix feels each death with every flicker and pulse of his heart. He's their medic. The one who thinks all the lives are his.
"He ordered Jesse and Fives executed. I – I had to shoot at them. At Jesse." He's shaking, and Anakin clasps his shoulder over his armor. His heart breaks and his chest feels heavy. Krell is fortunate to be dead. "There was nothing I could do."
For Kix to have to raise arms on his brothers – Anakin can't imagine it. His aching hurt and helplessness bleeds into the Force – Anakin can see it in his mind, a distant flash of Jesse and Fives in binders against a wall, the dozen rifles raised their way. He sees Rex turning away, unable to watch another of his brothers fall, these by his own hand.
His arm comes over Kix's shoulder, and he holds him against his side.
"I won't let this happen again. I'm not letting anyone else in charge of the 501st." He won't now. Won't ever. He made a promise, and he is fully intent on keeping it.
Kix leans against him, body trembling. Anakin just holds him while he cries. Sometimes, that's the best he can give.
"Just – uh, be sure to get some rest," he requests, "If something happens to the medic, we'll have a medical crisis." Well, that was one of the worse jokes he's thought up.
**w**
He finds Tup in the farthest corner of the barracks there is. It's basically empty – Fives is absent, and Anakin will have to hunt him down, though trying to clean up that mess will be tricky.
Tup is new, so Anakin keeps some respectful distance when he sits beside him on the other edge of the bunk. "How'd you and Dogma know each other?" he asks, going right to it.
"We were batchmates," he answers, "When the Kaminoans cycled us through, we were never really split up. We either shared barracks or studied together."
That's rare. Especially for twins. "Guess you got lucky." The Kaminoans were specific to discourage attachment. It's the same as the Sith are. It's a weakness that can be exploited, and not one they afford.
Tup sighs. He sounds like someone sucked all the life right out of him. "Yeah."
Anakin shifts a little. Tries to find words. The clones have a million brothers. Anakin wishes he could just have one. The strength they find in each other, that calmly steadfast support they will always share. The clones are never alone. They never can be, because they are surrounded by family.
Anakin wishes he could say the same. He wishes he had one, had someone, but this is a strength he will have to find in himself, because these are his men, and they need him. He will always give what they need.
"You were close."
"Doesn't matter anymore."
Anakin sees a flicker in his mind, of Dogma standing lone against them, still willing to fight for what he believed in. He hears the whirlwinding I'll never see him again, he's gone and I should have made him listen, it shouldn't've been him. He hears a whisper-faint "Dogma, don't do it" as he aims his blaster at Tup.
They were close.
Dogma stood down for him. Defied everything he served for because his brother asked him to. That is why he loves the clones.
"Yes, it does," Anakin promises. He didn't want to leave Dogma before, but now, seeing and knowing him and what he means to his brothers, he can't. "I'm not giving up, Tup. I'm going to get him back."
"The Council made it clear they weren't letting him go."
He's a pessimist. That's fine. Anakin knows one well. "I won't stop trying. He deserves a life, no matter what he's done. Krell tricked us all. It wasn't his fault." Dogma, Anakin knows, no doubt shot Krell for making him willing to fight his own twin brother. He had them shoot at Fives and Jesse. Dogma was the one who – followed.
It wasn't his fault. Anakin was fooled, too.
"I'll find a way to bring him back."
He jumps off the bunk, nearly smacking into Fives on the way out. The clone skids back when their eyes meet. Fives still feels wild and furious in the Force, but the most he offers is an exhausted nod. He knows this isn't Anakin's fault. He believes in the Republic. In him.
With the clones, it's a lot how such a simple move can mean so much – they all have the same face, and even slight movements and expression shifts carry entire conversations.
Anakin nods back, reading the gaze with the same well-versed understanding each of the clones bears for each other, and moves for the door. He's on a mission, and as always, will not allow anything to interfere.
**w**
The Council observes him, stone-faced and ashen.
" – an act of service for the Republic. He is the reason Umbara was a victory. Any harm to him will discourage others from taking their own actions to achieve victory. Not only the clones – our own as well."
"You raised this issue with me, personally," Master Windu answers, leaning forward, "And I addressed your concerns."
"Filing an official request for his release wasn't enough."
Obi-Wan's gaze is on him, but Anakin looks at everyone but him – if his master disapproves, he can't face that. Standing in front of the Sith Council itself is difficult enough. He knows they are judging him, with varying levels of sympathy, regret, annoyance, and disgust.
Yeah, Anakin would rather not hear Master Mundi's opinion on this.
"It is a regretful decision," Master Plo interjects. He radiates a quiet but defined grief and regret. "The clones are loyal, but these actions cannot go unnoticed. We cannot bend our rules, even for him."
"What are rules if there are no exceptions?"
"It is clear he learned his disregard for order and authority from you, Skywalker," Master Windu replies,
"This behavior is... problematic, and if it continues, we will have no choice but to relieve them of your custody."
He remembers the sharp burning sting of the whip on his back, the electricity coursing through his body, burning and burning and burning.
He knows what it is to be nothing.
He promised Kix no one else would lead them again. He made a promise.
One over his head he is helpless to fulfill.
He would rather they hurt him. He would rather be nothing and degraded and beaten if it meant sparing one of his men. His mother would do the same for him.
He has a duty, first and foremost to them.
Protest, arguing with put his men at stake. He cannot sacrifice Rex and Fives and all of them.
He made a promise.
"I understand, Master," is all he can get out, hand-gears whining.
Anakin doesn't bow when he leaves. He's made it three steps out the door before remembering, and panic spikes. Does that count? Will they take his boys from him because he failed to show them respect? Should he – go back? And do what?
There's nothing he can do. Dogma's going to die.
Not only him, but all of them are on the line now.
Anakin's sunk by the window ledge, sunlight streaming over his face, but doesn't see it. He's shaking and shaking and his jaw aches from how tightly clenched it is. He can feel the area around, and there's no danger, no threat, but he jerks when Obi-Wan's shadow falls over him.
"Anakin."
Go. Just – leave. He bites his lip, and it stings even if it doesn't bleed.
"The Council reached a decision in regard to the clone."
"Dogma."
"They cannot retake a decision already made. If it's any consolation, I was not on the majority."
Maybe. Should be. Anakin feels nothing. He genuinely tries to feel gratitude toward him for trying, but his mind supplies just as much bitterness for his failure, and he can't feel anything at all – it feels like he's drowning, burning stormy waters closing over him and there will be nothing left but ash. "Thank you," Anakin says robotically, because that is what he should say. "For trying."
"I suggest you get some rest." Obi-Wan is standing close to him, not touching, but Anakin feels his warmth and he wishes he could – just reach out and feel, that he could relax into his arms like he once could with his mother, but Obi-Wan is not his mom.
Shmi Skywalker is far, far away on Tatooine.
"Won't be sleeping." Not gonna try. Kix is right, but he's not going to be sleeping when Dogma never will get to again.
Obi-Wan sighs. "The clones are loyal. You are right about that. There is no need to fear a revolt, though I am sure you can understand the need for caution."
"There is a need for caution. There is none for murder."
"I understand how you feel, but take care how you speak of them. Whether this is a mistake or not, they are still the Council."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
**w**
"Why? Why did you lie?" Anakin stares dully at the dim, beige wall. "Why did you lie to me?" He's talking aloud to a ghost, and he knows it, but doesn't care. He feels so helpless. The galaxy could burn around him, and he can do nothing but sit here and watch it. Helpless.
"You will have the strength you need –"
Stop.
Why would Qui-Gon lie? He had nothing to gain. Qui-Gon wouldn't do that.
But here Anakin is. A Sith, and nothing.
These are his men. The only children he'll ever have. And he can do nothing for them.
Because he's too weak.
Qui-Gon wouldn't lie to him.
He has the answers he needs right in front of him, just out of his reach.
He picks up his lightsaber and throws it. It hits the wall, bouncing off a crate and across his workbench and tumbles ungracefully onto the floor, staring up at him accusingly.
Anakin buries his face in his hands, fingers tangling into his hair and yanking. The pain is grounding.
He can feel Ahsoka's hand on his wrist. Cody's voice. Kitster. His mom. Stop.
His pain doesn't help. Doesn't make him strong enough to overcome his weak, pathetic fear. He's weak. A failure.
"Your heart will take you to where you need to go –"
Qui-Gon wouldn't lie. Qui-Gon wouldn't lie. Qui-Gonwouldn'tlie you have everything you need use it use it useituseituseit –
He's too scared. Too weak.
He's – oh – he's letting his fear overcome him. That's the one obstacle Anakin has never been able to master. He's too afraid to do what he knows is right, and he needs to let that go. That's what his men need.
"You have an immense heart, Anakin. Don't let the Sith take it from you." Palpatine. He can help. He always helps.
He knows what's right. And it's time to stop being afraid. This is what he lives for. Freedom. It's what he left Mom for. "I know you're doing the right thing," she had promised, her lips on his forehead. "Go, Ani. Show the galaxy who you really are."
He remembers Qui-Gon's hand on his shoulder. The certainty with which he stood up to the Council, to fight to the end for a child he'd only just met, because it was the right thing to do, and Anakin needed him. Qui-Gon is gone now, and his legacy has passed on to Anakin.
He won't let it down.
He thinks of Cody, his gentle warmth. Fives, and his passionate strength. Every single one of his brothers.
They deserve this fight.
And Anakin is done being afraid.
**w**
The Chancellor takes it as well as he takes everything. Incomparably better than Ahsoka, who'd thrown her head back and yowled at the ceiling. The boys had just backed slowly out of the room and left their feral togruta sister to rage alone.
"I am afraid there is very little I can do," Palpatine admits, hands on his desk and holding Anakin's eyes. "The Sith Council demanded this remain an internal affair, and the majority of the Senate is in their favor."
"He's one of my men. I have to help him."
"I know you do, Anakin. Perhaps what you need to consider is what you can do."
"Me?" Anakin echoes.
"I cannot encourage you to defy the Council," Palpatine responds gently, "But sometimes, the law prevents justice for the innocent. That is why, sometimes, individuals must act on their own accord."
"You're asking me to go against the Council," Anakin whispers numbly.
"I know you will do the right thing, Anakin," he replies, "You always do."
He can't stop the Council. No more games. Can't stop the execution, but he has to get Dogma out of there. The Sith will know who interfered, and there is a high chance he'll be punished for it, but this is the right thing.
And Anakin is done being afraid.
**w**
Coruscant is never dark, but it's still in the dark of night that Anakin slips into the prison.
He brings Artoo with him, of course, to help cover. Easiest would be to stage a prison riot, but that would kill people. The Coruscanti Guard here would be killed, and Anakin is not going to sacrifice them in order to save one, even if it is one of his own.
Even if it's Dogma, and he promised to keep him safe.
The mice droids are easiest to use. No one pays attention to them, and Anakin hot wires one a little, with Artoo's help.
Dogma's execution is scheduled for tomorrow.
He has the mouse send off an electric pulse when the guards are taking him through the halls, alone.
Yes, it'll hurt them, but Anakin knows the clones, and he knows any one of them would rather take something ten times worse than one of their brothers die.
The hall is clear of cameras. Anakin shattered the one with the Force – they will think it's a malfunction. Or, at least, there will be no evidence it was more.
The vents are tight, but there's plenty of room for him and Dogma to share.
He would burn through the entire planet if it was the right thing.
Dogma stares at him with wide eyes when he finally refocuses into consciousness.
"You alright?" Anakin queries, gripping his shoulder. They're squeezed into the ventilation shaft, half on top of each other, but Anakin's been in more awkward positions, being a Sith and all.
"What are you doing here, sir?" Dogma asks incredulously, nearly gaping. His crashing disbelief bleeds into the Force, mind-boggled and incredulous.
"I'm here to get you out."
Dogma blinks at him once, then again. "You – came for me?"
"Of course I did. Let's go." They move, and to his credit, Dogma stays quiet until they're clear.
"You'll be discovered, sir," he objects worriedly.
Anakin shrugs one shoulder as they make it to the speeder, Artoo rolling along behind. Sneaking out is hard, but it's not like he hasn't slipped in and out of Separatist bases before unseen. And this is a base he knows well. "Let me worry about that. Just get yourself out of here."
"Why are you helping me?"
Anakin turns to look at him, holding his eyes and reading the confused worry on his face. His eyes are worried. He's scared and lost. Anakin is too, but he has a place and purpose none of the clones ever has. "You're one of my men. You've spent your life serving us. Let me do this for you."
"If I can't be a soldier, what am I? Where do I go?"
"You're not the only clone who's left." Anakin fires the speeder off, keeping close to buildings out of sight. "There are others who are leaving. Deserting. There's whispers. A network. You can go anywhere. Do what you want."
"But I won't have..."
"War doesn't have to be your purpose, Dogma. You can find your own fight. There are so many like you who need help." There are already clones who... try. They would never fight the Republic, but they still are trying to get their brothers away to safety.
Dogma will struggle, but he will find a way to adapt as long as he survives. All the clones do.
**w**
Rex takes one look at him, and he knows. He doesn't ask. It's dawn when Anakin makes it back to their cruiser, having spent all night long with Dogma, getting him settled in.
He huffs a grudging laugh and shakes his head. "We're getting a new shipment from Kamino tomorrow."
"I'll be there," Anakin replies, rolling his shoulder.
Artoo beeps happy agreement.
"How's Ahsoka? And Fives?"
"Ah, holding it together. Mostly. Can't say it's going well."
Anakin nods – it's as expected. He could not expect any of them to take it better.
"How's the hand?" Rex asks dryly, nodding to it.
Could say anything to that. He lost an arm. A limb he's never getting back. Anakin grins roguishly. "Holding together."
Rex snorts.
At least someone appreciates Anakin's twisted sense of humor.
**w**
"Alright, Anakin, I am not going to ask," Obi-Wan says, falling in step beside him in the Temple halls.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Anakin replies with thorough fake-ness.
"That was incredibly dangerous."
"I said –"
"I know what you said, Anakin, and there is no proof against you, but I know you."
Anakin pauses, waiting. He's not afraid. He has nothing to fear when the Force guides him, and when Qui-Gon's spirit is in him.
"That was incredibly reckless of you," Obi-Wan chides, turning toward him, arms crossed, "You covered your tracks well, but the Council suspects it was you. We can't take action on you, but if we could..."
"Dogma deserves a chance at freedom," Anakin replies, carefully dodging a verbal confession. Obi-Wan knows, but they'll both play this game. "They all do."
Obi-Wan's hand squeezes his shoulder. The touch is tangible and warm. Familiar, and his throat closes over tightly. "I don't disagree, though I recommend gar more caution." And then he's gone.
Translation: you're an idiot, but I love you.
He might not be comfortable with Anakin's rogue-ness. It's something only Palpatine encouraged. He wanted Anakin to do the right thing, as his mother had, as Qui-Gon had.
Qui-Gon is gone, but his spirit is here, passing into Anakin through their lineage and legacy, the way their souls are forever bound to one another. There is nothing more Anakin could give Obi-Wan than continuing their legacy – he's not all comfortable with it, but Anakin knows it's what he wants, no matter how little he is willing to voice it.
The sun is rising, its goldish light thrown across the halls, glinting over him and across his face.
Maybe it'll get him killed someday, but the clones are worth dying for. They have the life he never will, have the strength born by their singularity oneness with each other, the way they will always stand together – that is not something Anakin could ever have, or will ever have – he has never had a brother or sister before.
He has always been alone, and always will be, but if it means he can forever dedicate himself to freeing them, to raising Ahsoka, that gives him all the life and purpose he ever needs.
Final Notes: Reviews are always appreciated! ^-^
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We've got a YT channel for tributes! (delete the spaces) youtube channel / UC_g1M5rSCxJUzQCRS29B6pA
ALSO: We have SW gift request forms for General, Anakin-Clones-centric, and Bad Batch fics. :D (delete spaces) bit . ly / CourtesyTrefflinFicRequests