The Red Mission (Branching Out - Book V)

by kurenohikari

The boy who had left Tatooine with dreams of freedom was gone. In his place stood a Jedi—a man who had faced war, loss, and darkness, and come out stronger for it. And this time, he wasn't fighting for a galaxy. He was fighting for home.

4. The Calm Before the Storm

The soft hum of the Ekkrith drifting through space was the only sound that filled the ship's cockpit, a soothing rhythm that seemed to match the calm that had settled over Anakin. The blackness of the galaxy stretched out before him, dotted with stars, as vast and endless as the possibilities ahead of him. It was still early—if time even meant anything out here—and the universe felt... still. For once, there was no urgency, no battle to fight or crisis to manage. Just the quiet.

Anakin sat back in his chair, a steaming cup of tea cradled between his hands. The faint scent of something earthy and floral wafted from the cup, the kind of aroma that reminded him of the tea gardens in Coruscant, back when life had been simpler—well, as simple as life could ever be when you were a Jedi. The warmth of the cup in his hands was a small comfort, and he allowed himself to sink into it, savoring the stillness. He wasn't usually one for meditation or quiet reflection, but lately, he'd found that moments like these were becoming... necessary.

He settled in deeper, closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of the tea. Memories floated up unbidden—images of the past, of his time as Obi-Wan's padawan. The endless training sessions, the missions that always seemed to spiral into something more dangerous than planned, and Obi-Wan, with his ever-present exasperation, trying to keep Anakin's recklessness in check.

The thought brought a smirk to Anakin's face.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan's voice echoed in his mind, that familiar mix of frustration and fondness so clear he could almost hear it in the room. "If you continue like this, you'll be a danger to yourself and others!"

Anakin chuckled, opening his eyes and shaking his head. "Danger?" he muttered, raising his cup in a mock toast to the memory of his former master. "More like a thrill-seeker."

He could picture Obi-Wan's disapproving face so vividly, the way his brow would furrow just enough to show how deeply he cared, even when he was chastising Anakin for doing something reckless. The old Obi-Wan would have probably said something like, "There's a difference between bravery and foolishness, Anakin," and Anakin, of course, would have found a way to brush it off with a grin.

He took a sip of the tea, letting the warmth spread through him as the memories continued to flicker like holo-footage in his mind. It wasn't all lectures and scoldings. There had been moments—quiet ones, like this—where they'd just sit in the aftermath of a mission, the galaxy spinning on without them, and talk. About anything, really. Those moments of calm were rare but precious. Obi-Wan had always been able to center Anakin when the chaos of the galaxy threatened to pull him apart. And now, in his absence, Anakin had learned to do it for himself.

"Well," Anakin said to the empty room, a small grin tugging at his lips, "I'm sure you'd still find something to lecture me about now, Master."

He shook his head, the grin fading slightly as he stared out at the stars, his thoughts drifting toward Exegol. That ominous name had been looming in the back of his mind for some time now, like a storm on the horizon, waiting for him.

He took another sip of tea, leaning back as he stared at the infinite expanse of space. It was strange—how far he'd come, how much had changed. There was a time when he wouldn't have been able to sit still like this, wouldn't have been able to tolerate the silence. He used to thrive on the action, the adrenaline of battle. But now... now, he'd learned to appreciate these moments. To savor them, even.

A wry smile touched his lips as he thought back to his earlier days. The wild, reckless decisions that had driven Obi-Wan up the wall, the missions that had almost gotten them killed but somehow worked out in the end—usually with Anakin pulling off some impossible maneuver and Obi-Wan just shaking his head like he was half-amused, half-exasperated.

"You'd better not try any of that here,"* Obi-Wan would probably say if he knew what Anakin was about to face on Exegol. "This isn't the time for improvisation."

Anakin chuckled again. "I'd like to see you try and stop me, Obi-Wan," he muttered under his breath, the warmth of the tea soothing him in a way that felt oddly similar to the kind of peace he used to find in those rare moments with his old master. Even now, after everything, Obi-Wan's voice was still there, a steady presence guiding him, whether Anakin wanted to admit it or not.

The ship continued to glide through the blackness, the stars twinkling like distant memories, each one a story, a place he'd been or would go. Exegol was still a way off, and he wasn't in a hurry to get there. Not yet. This time, there was no Republic waiting for him, no Jedi Council breathing down his neck, no clone troopers to command. Just him, his ship, and the quiet pull of the Force leading him forward.

And in the midst of that silence, Anakin allowed himself to breathe, to just... exist. He wasn't the "Chosen One" right now. He wasn't anyone's savior or soldier. He was just a man, sitting in his ship, floating through the vastness of space with nothing but his thoughts and a cup of tea.

He placed the cup down beside him, leaning back as his hands rested on the armrests of the pilot's seat. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm, and his eyes half-closed, though his mind stayed alert. It wasn't quite meditation—he was never good at the traditional kind—but it was close enough. He wasn't fighting the quiet anymore.

Funny, how he used to run from it. Always needing to be in the thick of it, always needing something to do. He remembered how Obi-Wan used to try and get him to meditate more often, and how Anakin would half-heartedly try before getting bored five minutes in. "You're too restless, Anakin," Obi-Wan would say, though there was never any real judgment behind it. Just the quiet understanding of a master who knew his student better than anyone.

And now, here he was. The same Anakin who used to roll his eyes at meditation, who thrived on chaos and action, was now sitting alone with his thoughts, savoring the quiet. If that wasn't growth, he didn't know what was.

He chuckled to himself again, shaking his head. "You'd never believe it, Obi-Wan."

For a long while, he sat there, just watching the stars, his breathing slow and steady. The weight of what was coming, of what he would face on Exegol, lingered in the background, but it didn't press on him the way it once would have. He wasn't anxious about it. He wasn't afraid. He had faced worse, and he'd come through it.

The stars twinkled on, distant and indifferent, but Anakin didn't mind. He raised his cup in a final silent toast to the man he had been, to the man he had become, and to whatever lay ahead.

Once Anakin had finished his tea, he stood up and walked towards the galley of the Ekkrith. The scent of something familiar already filling the air—blue milk pancakes. His mouth watered slightly as he slid into the chair, pulling the plate toward him. The warm, soft stack of pancakes sat invitingly in front of him, drizzled with syrup, the kind of simple comfort food that made space travel feel just a bit more like home. He grinned to himself as he picked up his fork.

Finally, a quiet breakfast. No battles, no missions, no annoying holocalls—

Just as he was about to dig in, the comm unit on the wall next to him lit up, the familiar blue glow of an incoming holocall pulsing. He glanced at it, his fork frozen in mid-air.

"Of course," he muttered, shaking his head. "Can't even get through breakfast in peace."

With a sigh, he put the fork down and tapped the console, the holoprojector flickering to life. The translucent blue image of Ahsoka Tano appeared in front of him, and she was in full-on pout mode.

"Snips," Anakin greeted, unable to stop the amused smirk that crept across his face. "What's wrong? Did Obi-Wan make you meditate for three hours again?"

Ahsoka shot him a sharp look, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms over her chest. "No. Worse," she huffed, rolling her eyes so dramatically it almost looked like she was trying to see the back of her own head. "Honestly, Skyguy, I thought being a Jedi was about balance, not turning into a droid! He's a total hardass!"

Anakin laughed, leaning back in his chair as he folded his arms across his chest, enjoying her frustration a little too much. "Yeah, well, welcome to my world. Obi-Wan Kenobi has a talent for making everything feel like a lesson in patience, doesn't he?"

Ahsoka's pout deepened as she threw her hands up. "It's worse than that! I can't even walk across the temple without him saying something about posture or 'centering myself in the Force.' And don't even get me started on his obsession with rules. He's got rules for everything!"

Anakin couldn't help but chuckle again, the memories of Obi-Wan's endless lessons, his constant lectures on restraint and caution, flooding back to him. "You know, when I was your age, I thought the same thing. I figured Obi-Wan was just being overly cautious, making everything about 'the Jedi way.' Now I know he was just trying not to pull his hair out every time I did something stupid."

"Sounds about right." Ahsoka huffed. "I mean, I'm all for discipline, but there's gotta be a line, right? He actually made me redo a whole maneuver because I was two degrees off on the landing angle. Two degrees! Like anyone's going to notice in the middle of a battle!"

Anakin raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it seriously. "Well, to be fair, Snips, two degrees could make the difference between a smooth landing and—"

"Don't you start with me," Ahsoka interrupted, pointing a finger at him, her expression deadly serious but her lips twitching with the hint of a smile. "You used to practically invent your own rules every mission. And now you're lecturing me?"

He chuckled, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, you've got me there. But, in Obi-Wan's defense, he just wants you to be... what's the word he always uses? 'Prepared.'"

Ahsoka groaned, rubbing her temples like she was getting a headache just thinking about it. "I'm plenty prepared. What I need is a little more flexibility. Not everything's black and white, you know? Sometimes you've got to bend the rules."

Anakin smirked, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "Careful, Snips. Talking like that could get you in trouble with the Council. Next thing you know, they'll be pairing you up with me just to keep an eye on you."

Ahsoka's eyes lit up at the thought, her face breaking into a wide grin. "Now that I'd love to see. They couldn't handle the two of us together. We'd probably drive Obi-Wan insane in the first hour."

Anakin grinned, shaking his head. "I think you're right about that."

Anakin decided to start eating his breakfast, taking one bite of his blue milk pancakes, barely able to stifle his laughter as Ahsoka continued her rant about Obi-Wan's ironclad devotion to Jedi discipline. His holocomm flickered faintly, casting a blue hue across the galley, but the connection was stable enough to show the frustration painted across Ahsoka's face. Her arms were folded, brows furrowed as she leaned in close, as if the signal would work better if she glared at it.

"I mean, seriously, Skyguy," she groaned, exasperation clear in her voice. "I thought you were strict sometimes, but Obi-Wan takes it to a whole new level. 'Every maneuver must be flawless,'" she mimicked Obi-Wan's voice with exaggerated precision. "I don't even have time to breathe before he's correcting me again. And you know me—I can breathe just fine in the middle of a battle."

Anakin leaned back in his chair, grinning as he pointed his fork at the holoprojector. "That's the thing, Snips. I've got my own set of rules, but you know what we call that?" He paused for dramatic effect, swirling his fork through the syrup on his plate before finishing with a smirk, "Character building."

Ahsoka blinked, deadpan, before breaking into a wide grin. "Character building? You're the last person I'd expect to give a lecture about following rules, Anakin."

He laughed at the absurdity of his own statement, knowing full well that he had bent, broken, and outright ignored Jedi protocols more times than he could count. "Yeah, I know, total hypocrite, right?" He stabbed another piece of pancake with his fork, raising it triumphantly as if it somehow made his point valid. "But hey, at least when I break the rules, it's for a good reason. Obi-Wan's just mad because I make it look too easy."

Ahsoka snorted, and for a moment, they both sat there, sharing a rare moment of lightness in the midst of everything. He'd missed this. Their banter, the way she could always get under his skin just enough to make him forget the weight of everything else.

"How's the temple holding up?" Ahsoka asked, changing the focus of the topic of conversation from her to her padawan-brother.

Anakin sighed dramatically. "Ugh. Don't even ask. I think the navicomputer fried itself, and the stabilizers are shot. Again. And of course, the droids are doing everything but what I asked them to do."

"Sounds like a typical day for you," Ahsoka said, smirking. "Maybe Obi-Wan's rubbing off on your ship. Did you lecture the astromechs on 'proper procedure' yet?"

Anakin rolled his eyes again, but he couldn't hide his grin. "Please. If they start quoting Jedi philosophy back to me, I'm jumping out the airlock."

Ahsoka laughed, shaking her head. "You'll be fine. Just... try not to blow anything up while you're at it. You know how touchy those stabilizers can be."

He shot her a mock glare. "You're one to talk, Snips. How many ships did you crash during your simulations?"

"Hey, they were all intentional crashes. It's called improvising, Skyguy." Ahsoka shot back, crossing her arms defiantly. But the playful spark in her eyes gave her away. She was fine. Even with all her complaints about Obi-Wan's methods, Anakin could see that she was thriving under his mentorship.

He let out a breath, relaxing back in his chair. "You're doing good, Ahsoka. Obi-Wan might drive you crazy, but trust me, he's the best teacher you could have right now."

Ahsoka's expression softened, the joking tension between them easing. "Yeah, I know. He's a pain, but... he's Obi-Wan. He's kind of the best at being a Jedi, isn't he?"

Anakin nodded, his voice quieter now, more reflective. "Yeah, he is."

There was a pause, not awkward, but full of understanding. They both knew the weight of the path they were on. The training, the rules, the responsibility that came with being a Jedi—it wasn't easy. But somehow, in moments like this, when the galaxy felt just a little bit smaller, it was worth it.

Ahsoka's expression became serious, a flicker of concern passing over her face. "But listen, the Jedi Council? They're gearing up to call you soon. And it's not just to check in. They're not exactly thrilled about your... stunt on Tatooine."

Anakin's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly waved a hand dismissively. "The Council's never thrilled about anything I do, Snips. That's old news. I could single-handedly save the galaxy, and they'd still find a way to nitpick."

Ahsoka leaned closer to the projector, lowering her voice slightly. "Skyguy, I'm serious. They're talking about your 'unofficial liberation' of Tatooine like it's some kind of reckless power grab. They think you're acting outside your authority."

Anakin raised an eyebrow, leaning back and crossing his arms, the usual defiance rising in his chest. "Outside my authority?" he repeated, mock offense in his voice. "They weren't the ones who grew up there, Snips. They don't understand what it's like. I did what had to be done. The Hutts had it coming for years, and I wasn't about to wait for the Council to twiddle their thumbs about it."

She sighed, her gaze softening. "I get it. Believe me, I do. But they don't see it that way. Just... be careful. Don't let them push you into a corner."

Anakin leaned forward again, smirking in that way he always did when the Council was brought up. "What's the worst they can do? Send me to my room? Maybe take away my lightsaber privileges?" He waggled his eyebrows as if the entire conversation was some kind of joke, though part of him knew the situation was more serious than he let on.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back a smile. "You're impossible, Skyguy. One day, the Council's going to send you on a mission so boring, you'll wish they'd just thrown you in a cell."

"Doubt it," he said with a cocky grin, polishing off the last bite of his breakfast. "Besides, we both know they need me more than they'd ever admit."

Ahsoka's smile lingered for a moment longer before she sobered again, her voice quieter now. "Just... promise me you'll handle it. Don't make things worse for yourself."

Anakin's smirk softened into something more genuine, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond they shared. "I'll handle it," he assured her, his tone more serious now. "You don't need to worry about me, Snips. I've been dealing with the Council long enough to know how to play their game."

"Yeah, well, just don't play it too recklessly," she teased, though there was an edge of genuine concern in her voice. "Not everyone gets away with breaking the rules like you do."

He chuckled, nodding. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

The two sat there for a brief moment, the silence between them filled with understanding. It wasn't easy, being part of an Order that demanded so much from them while simultaneously questioning their every move. But somehow, having each other made it a little more bearable.

Ahsoka leaned back in her seat. "Well, I'd better get back to doing my homework, before Obi-Wan starts again with his speeches about keeping up with my studies."

Anakin smirked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms again. "Sounds like you've got it under control."

She grinned. "I'll catch you later, Skyguy."

"Stay safe, Snips," Anakin replied, offering a mock salute before the holoprojector flickered off, leaving the galley quiet once again.

For a moment, Anakin just sat there, staring at the now-empty space where Ahsoka's image had been. The smirk he'd worn during the call slowly faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. He'd always joked about the Council, about their rules and their disapproval of his methods, but Ahsoka's warning gnawed at him a little more than he expected. The Council would call him soon, and while he wasn't worried about the outcome, he knew that their distrust was growing. They couldn't understand the choices he made, the risks he was willing to take. They saw him as dangerous.

He wasn't, though. He was just... different. He always had been.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Anakin stood up and cleared his plate, placing it in the ship's small sink. The galley felt too quiet now, the lingering warmth of Ahsoka's presence already fading. He was alone again, and the weight of his impending mission to Exegol crept back into the forefront of his mind.

He'd handle it. The Council. Exegol. Whatever the galaxy threw at him next.

Because that's who he was—Anakin Skywalker. And no one could change that.

With one last glance out at the stars beyond the ship, he headed back to the controls, his resolve firm. It was time to focus.

Anakin strolled toward the cockpit, as he approached the pilot's seat, a familiar series of beeps and whistles chirped up at him. R2-D2, his trusty astromech droid, sat dutifully by the console, lights blinking in rhythm with his soft warbling. Anakin smirked at the sound, his affection for the quirky little droid evident in his expression.

"Hey, Artoo," Anakin said, settling into the pilot's seat. "Miss me?"

R2-D2 let out a high-pitched, cheery whistle, followed by a rapid stream of beeps that sounded something like, "Not a chance, I've been keeping everything running while you were busy meditating and eating pancakes."

Anakin chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Meditating, huh? More like trying to keep my breakfast warm while dealing with Ahsoka's latest rant about Obi-Wan.

R2-D2 beeped again, a lower sound this time, almost like a grumble.

"Yeah, I know, you'd love to steer this thing, wouldn't you?" Anakin teased, leaning forward and tapping a few buttons on the console. "Or are you still too busy pretending to be a protocol droid?"

R2-D2's response was instant—a sharp, indignant set of beeps and whistles that clearly translated to something like "Protocol droid? You've got to be kidding me."

Anakin couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face. "I'm just saying, you seem awfully cozy there, acting like you're in charge. Last time I checked, you still needed me to get us to Exegol."

R2-D2 whirred back, this time his beeps coming off like a challenge. Anakin could almost hear the droid's response in his head: "I could fly circles around you, but I'd rather save my energy for more important tasks."

"Fair point, my friend." Anakin leaned back in his seat, glancing out at the endless expanse of space in front of them, the stars streaking by like distant echoes of light. "The galaxy doesn't save itself."

R2-D2 gave a satisfied little chirp, as if to say, "Glad you finally understand."

The back-and-forth banter with R2-D2 always grounded him. It was one of the few constants in the ship— R2-D2's witty retorts, the soft hum of the ship, the endless stars beyond the viewport. No matter how much the galaxy shifted and crumbled around him, no matter how many battles he fought or enemies he faced, R2-D2 was always there, a reliable presence in the madness.

Anakin glanced over at the astromech, shaking his head with a wry smile. "You know, if it weren't for you, I probably would've blown this ship up by now."

R2-D2 let out a smug, almost arrogant series of beeps. "I keep things in check. Someone has to."

Anakin laughed at that, running a hand through his hair as he turned his gaze back to the controls. "Alright, alright. I'll give you credit where it's due. But don't get cocky. You still need me for the rea* flying."

R2-D2 emitted a skeptical tone, which sounded suspiciously like a "Yeah, right."

Anakin leaned forward again, adjusting a few settings on the navigation panel. The coordinates for Exegol were already locked in, but they still had some time before reaching the remote planet. The journey had been quiet so far—too quiet, in fact—but Anakin wasn't complaining. He preferred this. The silence before the inevitable storm.

R2-D2's soft beep interrupted his thoughts, the droid swiveling its head as if to check on him. Anakin could almost feel the concern emanating from his mechanical friend. "I'm fine, Artoo," he said, though his voice lacked the usual cocky edge. He rested his arms on the console, staring at the swirling stars beyond the viewport. "Just... thinking."

R2-D2 whistled, a softer tone this time, as if to say, "About what?"

Anakin exhaled slowly, leaning back in his seat. "Exegol. It's not exactly a vacation spot, you know? Dark side stuff, Sith temples... I don't think even your circuits are prepared for what we're going to face there."

The droid emitted a low, warbling beep, something that sounded almost like reassurance. R2-D2 wasn't one for overthinking things. For all the droid's quirks, he was direct, practical.

Anakin smiled faintly. "Yeah, I know. We'll handle it. We always do."

The cockpit fell into a companionable silence, the ship continuing its course toward the ominous destination. Anakin's hands idly tapped the armrests, his mind drifting between the upcoming mission and the banter with Ahsoka earlier. It was nice, being able to joke with her, to feel like things were... normal, for a little while. But deep down, he knew that normal was a luxury they didn't really have. Not anymore.

R2-D2 beeped again, breaking the quiet with a string of chirps and whistles that translated roughly to "Stop brooding. It's annoying."

Anakin blinked, then snorted, shaking his head. "Brooding? I don't brood, Artoo."

The droid shot back with an incredulous series of beeps. "Sure, and I'm a moisture farmer."

"Okay, first of all, no need to bring up moisture farming, thank you very much." Anakin pointed a finger at the droid, his smirk growing. "And second, I don't brood. I think. You should try it sometime."

R2-D2's response was immediate: a dismissive, high-pitched whistle. "Thinking is overrated. I get things done."

"Yeah, and who's the one who has to clean up after your mess when you 'get things done?'"

The droid whirled around, emitting a sharp, defiant beep that sounded suspiciously like, "You love it."

"Buddy, you are too much like me!" Anakin couldn't help but laugh again, shaking his head as he leaned back in the pilot's seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You're lucky you're adorable, you know that?"

R2-D2 gave an indignant series of beeps, but Anakin could sense the droid's amusement. For all their teasing, the bond between them was undeniable. Anakin sighed, his smile fading into something more thoughtful as he glanced back out at the stars. "You're right though, Artoo. We've got this. Whatever's waiting for us on Exegol... we'll face it together."

The droid chirped in agreement, a steady, confident tone.

Anakin closed his eyes for a moment, letting the hum of the ship and the constant presence of R2-D2 wash over him. There was something about this, about flying through space with nothing but his thoughts and his droid, that made him feel grounded. Centered, even.

He opened his eyes, the determination settling back into his features as he placed his hands on the controls.

"Alright, Exegol," he muttered to himself, a familiar smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Let's see what you've got."

The ship surged forward, the stars blurring into lines of light as they jumped into hyperspace, R2-D2's cheerful beeps echoing in the cockpit. Just then a soft chime of the comm unit cut through the cockpit, like a buzzkill at the end of a perfectly good joke. Anakin's grin faltered, and he sighed, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

"And there it is—duty calls," he muttered, tossing an annoyed glance at R2-D2, who chirped a mocking "Told you so" in response.

Anakin dragged himself out of the pilot's seat, reluctantly abandoning the cozy comfort of the cockpit for the cold, formal atmosphere that always seemed to accompany these holo-calls. With a quick tap on the console, the lights in the room dimmed, and the familiar blue flicker of a hologram buzzed to life before him.

And there they were—the Jedi Council. Well, the new Jedi Council. Some old, some new, but all of them wore that same, stern expression Anakin had come to expect. It was like they had practiced it—The Disappointed Jedi Stare—as if no matter what you did, you were always one step away from earning their collective sigh of disapproval.

The ghostly blue figures of Masters Kit Fisto, Shaak Ti, Vokara Che, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Depa Billaba, Yoda, Quinlan Vos, and Tholme filled the space. The weight of their presence was palpable, but Anakin just crossed his arms and leaned back on one foot, keeping his expression neutral—borderline indifferent.

"Skywalker," Mace Windu's voice was the first to cut through the silence. It always was. He didn't waste time on pleasantries, which, if Anakin was being honest, he respected. The directness was refreshing, even if it was usually bad news. "We've been hearing some... interesting reports."

Anakin raised an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Here it comes.

"Interesting? That's one way to describe it," he replied, casually crossing his arms. "I like to think of it aseffective. You know, results-driven leadership." He shot a quick glance at Obi-Wan, whose expression seemed caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

"Results-driven?" Shaak Ti asked, her brow raised as if challenging his semantics. "Liberating Tatooine without Council approval? That's more than just 'creative' problem-solving, Skywalker."

Anakin shrugged, doing his best to look as nonchalant as possible. "Tatooine's been under Hutt control for longer than most of us have been alive. They weren't going to hand over their stranglehold just because I sent a nicely worded memo."

Plo Koon's deep, measured voice chimed in next. "Your intentions may have been noble, but there is a process to follow. The Council was not informed of your plans."

And there it is, Anakin thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. The process. Always the process.

"I saved an entire planet from slavery," he countered, his tone a little sharper now. "I didn't have time to wait for the Council to vote on whether or not it was politically convenient. The Hutts needed to be dealt with. The people needed help."

Mace Windu's gaze didn't waver. "And you didn't think that maybe informing us before staging a full-scale rebellion would've been a good idea?"

Anakin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Look, I get it. I bent a few rules—okay, I shattered them—but what was the alternative? Sit on my hands while the Hutts kept people in chains? That's not who I am. It's not who we are. If you're going to punish me for that, fine, but I won't apologize for doing what had to be done."

Obi-Wan, who had been suspiciously quiet up until now, finally cleared his throat, stepping forward into the holo-projection with that same measured look he always gave when he was about to play the role of mediator. "Anakin... no one is saying what you did wasn't admirable. The Council knows your heart is in the right place." His eyes flickered with a hint of something more—a quiet understanding. Obi-Wan knew better than anyone how personal Tatooine was to Anakin. "But there are consequences to acting outside the Council's guidance."

Yoda, seated at the center of the projection with his cane in hand, finally spoke up, his ears twitching slightly as he fixed his wise, ancient eyes on Anakin. "Hasty, your actions were. Careful, one must be. But wrong, to free those enslaved, it was not."

Anakin's shoulders eased a bit, but he still stood firm. Yoda's words always had that effect—calming, like a balm on the fire in his chest. But Mace wasn't finished.

"This isn't just about Tatooine, Anakin," Windu said, his voice steady but carrying that unmistakable edge of caution. "It's about how we, as Jedi, represent the Order. You've always had a problem with authority. The Council is not here to micromanage every decision you make, but we cannot have rogue Jedi acting on their own, no matter how noble the cause."

"Rogue Jedi?" Anakin echoed, his voice dropping slightly. "I'm not a rogue anything. I did what the Council is supposed to do—help people who can't help themselves."

A beat of silence followed, the tension in the room palpable even across the hologram. Masters exchanged glances, and for a moment, it felt like the entire galaxy was holding its breath, waiting to see who would speak next.

Finally, Depa Billaba, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the underlying tension, leaned forward. "No one is questioning your intent, Anakin. We are, however, questioning the means by which you achieved it. The Jedi are not an army. We cannot be seen as a force that moves without restraint."

Anakin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Obi-Wan cut in, his tone gentle but firm. "Anakin, I know how personal this was for you. But the next time you make a move like this, you need to consult the Council. Even if it's just me."

Anakin met Obi-Wan's gaze, and for a brief second, the old familiarity between them flickered to life. He could see the concern in his former master's eyes, the same look Obi-Wan had given him countless times—Be careful. Be better.

Anakin exhaled, the fire in his chest cooling, though it didn't completely die out. "Fine," he said, his tone softening but still carrying an edge. "Next time, I'll run it by you."

The Council members exchanged a glance, and Anakin knew they were all silently relieved by his concession, even if they didn't fully trust that he'd stick to it. Quinlan Vos, always the wildcard, leaned forward with a wry smile, his tone light. "Well, glad we got that cleared up before it turned into an even bigger mess."

Anakin smirked, grateful for the shift in tone. "Yeah, wouldn't want to add more paperwork to your pile, Vos."

Mace Windu sighed, shaking his head slightly as if the entire conversation had gone exactly how he expected it to. "Just... remember, Skywalker. The Council is not your enemy. We're all on the same side here."

Anakin raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. It was hard to forget that the Council had never fully trusted him. Maybe they were on the same side, but sometimes it felt like they were standing on opposite ends of the battlefield.

Yoda's eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before the old Jedi Master nodded, signaling the end of the meeting. "Mindful, you must be. Of the path ahead, uncertain it is. Careful, we all must tread."

Anakin dipped his head in acknowledgment, his jaw clenched just enough to betray his lingering frustration. "Understood."

The last flickers of the Council's holograms dimmed in the cockpit, "Well," he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands, "that went about as well as I expected."

Anakin stayed quiet for a moment, letting the weight of their words sink in. Despite the usual reprimands and endless reminders about balance, there had been something else this time—a sense of camaraderie beneath the surface, a mutual understanding that didn't need to be spoken out loud. It felt... different. He wasn't entirely sure how to describe it, but it felt like a step in the right direction.

Still, as much as Anakin respected the Council, there was one thing nagging at the back of his mind, something that had been sitting unspoken during the entire conversation. He shifted his weight, standing more upright as he glanced at the comm unit again, ready to open another line.

"Actually," Anakin muttered to himself before clearing his throat. "Hey, uh, before you all go running off to meditate or whatever it is you do these days," he called out, reaching for the controls again to bring their holos back. He tried to sound casual, but there was a bit of urgency under his tone.

The holograms of the Council reappeared, most of them blinking with surprise at being called back so soon. Obi-Wan, of course, was the first to speak, his voice tinged with light sarcasm. "You know, Anakin, you could always just file a request to speak with us. There's no need to drag us back after we've already finished berating you."

Anakin rolled his eyes but couldn't help a smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I'll take that under advisement, Master. But I had a question."

Mace Windu's expression remained as sharp as ever, his brow arched. "What is it, Skywalker?"

Anakin leaned in a bit, his tone more serious now. "Tatooine. What's the Republic's stance on them joining us officially? It's always been under Hutt control, but now that we've... shifted things a little... I'd like to know if the Senate's thinking about integrating the planet. Chancellor Mothma has informed me that there's nothing to worry about, but I would like to know if that's true or if it's simply her being positive."

There was a brief pause as the Council members exchanged glances, but it was Obi-Wan who stepped forward again, his smirk widening just a bit, the teasing glint back in his eyes.

"As a matter of fact," Obi-Wan began, "the Senate is fully in favor of Tatooine joining the Republic. They've been discussing it since word got out about the... liberation. Turns out, they see the strategic importance of Tatooine now that it's no longer in the Hutts' grip."

Anakin blinked, pleasantly surprised. "Wait—seriously? The Senate's onboard?"

"They are," Shaak Ti confirmed, her voice calm and reassuring. "Tatooine's position makes it a key trade route in the Outer Rim, and with the Hutts out of the picture, the Republic can establish a much-needed foothold in that region."

This was nothing Anakin did not know, but the knowledge being rectified by the Jedi Council did calm Anakin's nerves. The Republic would never put out their necks for one planet, unless they had something to gain that was worth more than turning the Hutts into their enemy. And the Separatists are worth more than them. Or at least, it is a more personal vendetta.

"And," Obi-Wan added with a sly grin, "corruption in the Senate is at an all-time low, which is saying something. Between Mon Mothma and Bail Organa, things have been kept in check for once. I almost feel bad for them."

There was a beat of silence, then—unexpectedly—the entire Council erupted into laughter. Even Mace Windu's usually stoic face cracked with a rare grin. Anakin couldn't help but join in, the sound of the Council's laughter filling the small cockpit of the Ekkrith like a burst of sunlight cutting through the ever-present clouds of duty.

"Bail's probably buried in more paperwork than he ever thought possible," Quinlan Vos added, his smirk as lopsided as ever. "Mon Mothma? She's probably wishing she could go back to being just a senator instead of cleaning up this mess."

"Imagine the frustration," Kit Fisto chimed in, grinning. "All those years fighting for democracy, and now they're stuck enforcing it."

Anakin laughed, shaking his head. "I can't say I envy them, but hey, someone's got to keep the Republic from falling apart." He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. "Still, Tatooine joining the Republic... that's big. The people there, they deserve it. And if the Senate's all for it... well, that's a win in my book."

Depa Billaba's tone was thoughtful as she added, "It's not just a win for the Republic. Tatooine's people have lived in the shadows of crime and corruption for too long. This is a new beginning for them, and the Republic could provide stability where there was none."

Anakin nodded, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction settle into his chest. He hadn't just liberated his homeworld—he had changed its future. For the first time in a long time, Tatooine wouldn't be just a forgotten desert planet controlled by crime lords. It would be part of something bigger, something that could help it grow and thrive.

"Guess that means I didn't mess everything up after all, huh?" he said, shooting a playful glance at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan smirked, crossing his arms. "Don't let it go to your head, Anakin."

"Too late," Quinlan Vos muttered, and the group chuckled again.

"Just be careful, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, voice dripping with mock caution. "Mon Mothma's been threatening to steal my favorite padawan from me and bring him into the Senate as her right hand."

Anakin couldn't help but smirk at Obi-Wan's teasing warning. His former master stood in his holographic form, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eye that told Anakin he wasn't entirely joking.

The rest of the Council erupted into laughter, the idea of Anakin Skywalker—the galaxy's most notorious rule-bender—being caught up in the web of politics too absurd not to enjoy. Even Mace Windu's typical stone-faced demeanor cracked into a small grin, while Kit Fisto laughed openly, his bright smile flashing through the blue hologram. The thought of Anakin navigating the layers of Senate bureaucracy was enough to lighten the usually serious air of their meetings.

"Can you imagine?" Quinlan Vos chimed in, grinning. "Skywalker in the Senate? It'd be like handing a lightsaber to a womp rat—disaster waiting to happen!"

"Who said the Senate's any safer?" Anakin shot back, a playful glint in his eye as he shook his head. "There are more traps in the Senate than a Hutt's spice deal gone wrong. I'll take a droid-infused life over politics any day."

The Council members exchanged amused glances, the lightheartedness of the moment creating a rare sense of ease. Even Yoda seemed to chuckle, his wise, raspy voice blending with the laughter of the others. "Hmm, wise choice, it is. Taught patience in the Senate, long time, you would be. Not your strong suit, hmm?"

Anakin gave Yoda a mock salute, his grin wide. "Grand Master Yoda, if patience were the standard, I would've been out of a job years ago."

That earned him another round of chuckles, even from Obi-Wan, whose expression had softened into something fond. For all the times they had clashed, for all the disagreements, there was still that deep connection between them—a bond that was built through battles, arguments, and long moments of shared silence after missions that had pushed them both to their limits.

"I mean, come on," Anakin continued, leaning back and crossing his arms, clearly reveling in the rare lightness of the moment. "Can you really see me sitting in some Senate pod, debating tax legislation for five hours? I'd last about thirty seconds before I'd start accidentally cutting through someone's chair."

"I'd give it ten," Obi-Wan quipped with a sly grin. "And that's me being generous."

"I could see it now," Shaak Ti added, her voice smooth but laced with humor. "The headline: 'Skywalker Disarms Another Senator, Cites Boredom.'"

The laughter was contagious, filling the cockpit of Anakin's ship as if it had taken on a life of its own. Even R2-D2 let out a series of happy, warbling beeps as if the droid was in on the joke, which only made Anakin grin wider.

But underneath the laughter, there was something else—a warmth that settled in Anakin's chest. He glanced around the group, from Obi-Wan's teasing grin to Kit Fisto's ever-present smile, and even Mace Windu's rare amusement. There was something deeper in this, something more meaningful than just a joke about his lack of political finesse.

This was family. A strange, rule-bound, often frustrating family, but family nonetheless.

He shook his head, feigning exasperation. "I appreciate the concern, Obi-Wan, but tell Mon Mothma she's out of luck. I've got a much more exciting job ahead of me—dismantling Sith temples, liberating planets, and, of course, keeping Artoo out of trouble."

R2-D2 beeped indignantly, and Anakin chuckled, giving the droid a playful nudge with his boot. "You know it's true, buddy."

Obi-Wan's eyes gleamed with humor as he watched the exchange, but there was a softness to his gaze too—a rare moment of quiet admiration. "Just make sure you don't let the excitement get to your head, Anakin. We all know how well you handle too much freedom."

The jab was playful, but the underlying message wasn't lost on Anakin. He nodded, his smirk fading into something more serious. "Don't worry, Master. I've got this."

The Council members seemed to settle after the bout of laughter, their expressions returning to their usual stoic calm. But there was still a lightness in the air, a shared understanding that had grown from the humor. They trusted him—or at least, they were starting to. Even Windu, who was often the most critical of Anakin's methods, seemed to recognize that, despite the reckless streak, Anakin was always guided by something stronger than just his impulsive nature.

"Just remember, Anakin," Windu said, his voice steady but less harsh than before. "We walk a fine line between protecting the galaxy and falling into chaos ourselves. Make sure you stay on the right side of that line."

Anakin met Windu's gaze and nodded, a flicker of seriousness returning to his tone. "I will. You have my word."

The Council members exchanged one last round of nods and farewells before their holograms flickered out for good this time, leaving Anakin alone once more in the quiet hum of the Ekkrith's cockpit.

The silence that followed was different now, not the oppressive quiet that came with guilt or reprimand, but a peaceful, almost reflective stillness. Anakin let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned back in the pilot's seat, staring out at the stars that stretched endlessly ahead of him.

"Well," he muttered to himself, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips, "guess that wasn't too bad."

R2-D2 chirped in agreement, the little droid rolling closer, his dome spinning as if he, too, was content with how the call had gone.

"See?" Anakin said, glancing down at his trusty companion. "They're coming around. Slowly, but it's happening."

R2-D2 let out a low whistle, almost like an "I told you so," and Anakin couldn't help but laugh again.

"Yeah, yeah. You're always right, aren't you?" He sighed, his grin softening as he turned back to the console. "Now, let's get moving. We've still got a Sith temple to deal with. Can't let the galaxy have too much peace and quiet, can we?"

R2-D2 beeped enthusiastically, and Anakin felt the familiar surge of excitement that always came with the unknown. Whatever was waiting for him on Exegol, whatever darkness lay ahead, he knew one thing for sure: he wasn't alone. Not really. He had his droid, his ship, and—whether they admitted it or not—the support of the Jedi Council.

The day was winding down aboard the Ekkrith. R2-D2 beeped contentedly as he docked himself for recharge, leaving Anakin alone with the ever-talkative C-3PO. The golden protocol droid had just joined his creator, and was already mid-sentence—naturally—launching into a tirade about the various scenarios that could go wrong during future diplomatic missions. Anakin had decided now was as good a time as any to give Threepio a tune-up, keeping his hands busy as he listened to the droid's endless chatter.

"Oh dear! What if I malfunction during an important diplomatic meeting?" C-3PO fretted, his stiff arms flailing slightly as Anakin tightened a panel near his midsection.

Anakin snorted, shaking his head with a wry grin. "Then we'll just have to introduce the galaxy to what happens when a rusty protocol droid spontaneously combusts in the middle of a peace treaty."

C-3PO gasped—well, as much as a droid could—his voice climbing several octaves higher in pure horror. "Combust? Oh dear! Master Anakin, that's hardly a comforting thought!"

Anakin chuckled, securing the last piece of plating back in place. He leaned back, admiring his work, his grin widening as he gave the droid a playful pat on the shoulder. "Relax, Threepio. I'm not going to let you turn into a rusty pile of junk. A nice oil bath, some updated circuits, and you'll be good as new."

C-3PO tilted his head in that slightly robotic, confused way, his amber eyes flickering. "But, Master Anakin, what if my circuits fail during an important introduction? What if my wiring malfunctions while I'm translating in the middle of a vital negotiation? Oh, the embarrassment would be unbearable!"

Anakin smirked, folding his arms as he leaned back against the workbench. "Knowing you, Threepio, you'd still manage to ramble through a translation even if you were halfway to falling apart. You've got enough words in you to keep going for at least another century."

The droid seemed to consider this for a moment, his processors whirring quietly. "I suppose that's true," he admitted, his tone shifting from panic to mild contemplation. "However, it's hardly ideal, Master Anakin. I do pride myself on my reliability."

Anakin's smirk softened, and for a brief second, he let himself just feel the moment—the warmth of it. It was strange, really. Something as simple as working on a droid—his droid—felt grounding. It reminded him of who he was before joining the Jedi, before the weight of being the "Chosen One" had settled like a cloak over his shoulders.

Back then, it had been just him and his mechanical projects, tinkering under the Tatooine suns. He might've been a slave then, but he still had his passion, his mind. The galaxy hadn't made sense back then either, but he'd always had his friends, and somehow, that had been enough.

Now, as C-3PO continued to prattle on about every unlikely malfunction under the stars, Anakin couldn't help but feel that same sense of peace. It was fleeting, sure—life in the galaxy was too unpredictable for it to last—but it was here, and for now, he was going to enjoy it.

He reached for another tool, giving the droid a once-over, tweaking a few systems here and there. "You're fine, Threepio. Stop worrying so much. I've got you covered."

"Oh, Master Anakin," C-3PO replied, his tone full of gratitude but still holding onto that underlying anxiousness that was so quintessentially him. "You're too kind. But really, do you think this new upgrade will improve my efficiency in translating Galactic Basic to Wookiee? You know how troublesome their language can be—so many growls and howls, it's simply exhausting to keep track!"

Anakin shook his head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "Don't worry, I'm sure they will appreciate the effort, even if you misinterpret a growl or two."

The golden droid sputtered in mild indignation. "Misinterpret? Oh dear! The very thought is terrifying. I would hate to accidentally translate a friendly growl as an insult. Why, that could lead to a catastrophic misunderstanding!"

Anakin's laughter grew, echoing through the small maintenance area. "Well, if that happens, I'll make sure to apologize on your behalf while you're busy running from an angry Wookiee."

C-3PO paused, his lights flickering as he considered this horrifying possibility, and then he let out a defeated, mechanical sigh. "I don't believe I was designed for this kind of pressure."

Anakin stood up, dusting his hands off and giving the droid an affectionate slap on the back. "You're doing great, Threepio. Really. Just try not to fall apart on me when I need you most, alright?"

The droid straightened, puffing up with the exaggerated dignity he always seemed to adopt when he was trying to be serious. "Of course, Master Anakin. You can rely on me, as always."

Anakin grinned, that warm feeling in his chest expanding as he looked at the droid. There was something so absurd about the whole situation. Here he was, Anakin Skywalker—Jedi Knight, liberator of worlds, the man chosen to bring balance to the Force—having a heartfelt moment with a droid who still, after all these years, worried about malfunctioning during a diplomatic mission. But maybe that's what made it so comforting. The absurdity of it all was... normal. Familiar.

C-3PO continued to ramble on about potential worst-case scenarios—what if the power cells went out mid-speech? What if he accidentally spoke in Huttese during a royal banquet?—but Anakin just let the droid's voice wash over him like white noise. He was barely paying attention now, instead allowing himself to savor the quiet joy of the moment.

For all the uncertainty swirling around in the galaxy, here, in this small ship, there was stability. Friendship. A sense of belonging that was hard to find anywhere else.

Anakin glanced at R2-D2, who was now quietly charging in the corner, the soft glow of his lights blending with the dim lighting of the ship. He smiled. The galaxy outside might be a mess, filled with Sith temples and dark forces he was destined to face, but in this moment, surrounded by the familiar buzz of his droids, he felt a flicker of hope.

He wasn't alone. Not really.

The stars stretched on beyond the cockpit window, endless and full of promise. And for now, as the galaxy slowly turned, Anakin Skywalker allowed himself to feel content. There were still battles to fight, dark sides to face, but that could wait for tomorrow.

Today, there was peace. Today, there were friends, droids, and maybe even a few more snarky comebacks left in him.

"Alright, Threepio," Anakin said, cutting through the droid's latest complaint. "How about we get you that oil bath now? You've earned it."

C-3PO perked up, his tone almost chipper for once. "Oh, Master Anakin, that would be delightful! My joints have been feeling particularly stiff lately—"

Anakin raised a hand, chuckling as he moved toward the maintenance bay. "Yeah, yeah, no need to sell it. I get it. Let's go before you turn into a scrap heap."

As C-3PO followed Anakin down the corridor, still chattering away, Anakin felt a sense of calm wash over him—a calm that he hadn't felt in a long time. And for the first time in a while, the future didn't feel so daunting.

There was always hope, after all. Even in the most unlikely of places.