Chapter 18 – Timeless

Author's Note: Soooo... this chapter needs a warning for mentions of past rape/non-con. If that is something that will bother you, just skip the flashback at the beginning.

I... had been planning for this fic to be eventual Anidala at the end, and it probably still will be, but I'm a little curious now. After reading this chapter, would you prefer Anidala or Aaylakin? :P

~ Amina Gila

After Ahsoka left, nothing in the galaxy felt right anymore. Everything felt wrong, out of alignment. She had been his star in the war, the thing Anakin clung to most when it became rough. She was all he had during the dark days, when the battles drug on, and he watched friends and brothers fall all around him. The war was hard. It was hard to fight, hard to watch his men die, his boys who relied on him to protect them. It was hard to try and shield Ahsoka from the worst of it, to protect her from being scarred like he has been.

It was hard, but Anakin did it anyways, did everything he could to protect his padawan, his child, his light. He took blows for her. He went hungry for her. His world revolved around her, because he had no one else to focus on outside of the war. There's Padme, of course, but it's different when they are only friends and when he wants so much more. He wants a family, something he can never get until the galaxy sees peace.

And then, Ahsoka left.

Ahsoka left, and in his grief, a pain that Padme shared, because she, too, had loved Ahsoka as a sister or daughter, or maybe both, they had done something they shouldn't have. They'd craved intimacy and comfort, and it had just… happened. It felt so right, and Anakin hates, a little, how right it feels, even now, that they… did it.

But he doesn't know how to look at Padme anymore, either, and he knows he shouldn't be avoiding her, but he… is. It's easier. Easier because he doesn't trust his own willpower anymore either, not now that they've gone so far. There is no going back, only forward, and forward is a tricky path, one without any clear steppingstones or answers.

The war doesn't wait for him to deal with his conflicts or his grief. It doesn't wait for anything, much less for him to be ready to face the rapidly mounting losses. Sometimes, it's beginning to feel as though the galaxy is trying to drive in even harder, how little he can do to protect his family. He couldn't protect Ahsoka. He can't protect his boys now, either.

They've been here for weeks already, fighting off the Separatist forces and the weather both. It's miserable, just another in a long series of horrors that Anakin has seen and endured throughout his life. This last assault, especially, was bad. Sure, they might have achieved a victory, but it feels hollow in the face of everything, and everyone, they lost. The celebrations among the clones are subdued, compared to normal, even in the companies which didn't lose men. They're scattered, quiet, while the rest of them hold memorials for those who were lost or sit by the bedsides of those who were injured and are now clinging to life.

Anakin would have been there, in the medbay, checking on his men, and he was there earlier, but now, he's hidden away in a cluster of bushes, just trying to breathe. It would help if he cleaned up, if he washed away the stench of blood and ash and mud and sweat that's clinging to him, that's been clinging to him for days and days, but he – after everything they lost, he just can't.

His arm, though bandaged, is burning from the blaster bolt he took to protect Rex, a shot that would have killed him, and he's still shaken by how close things came. It could have been over. Rex could have died there. (He could still die in the future, at any moment, and the fear of that unknown is almost more than Anakin can handle. He's not good enough to protect Rex or his boys or anyone, is he? He tries, but he still fails. He can't protect them anymore than he could protect Ahsoka or his mother.)

He doesn't move when Aayla comes and sits next to him, her exhaustion radiating into the Force. She was here first, and he and the 501st had come to reinforce her. "You did everything you could," she says quietly, tiredly, somehow reading his train of thought. Or perhaps it's not too hard to know what he's thinking, with the guilt and regret and grief that's drowning him in the Force. And they've been friends for so long; she's the only person he's had at the Temple, other than Obi-Wan.

She leans closer when he doesn't answer, half leaning against him. "We're okay," she whispers, though it sounds more directed to herself than to him. "We're – we're okay."

Some moments, Anakin hadn't been sure they'd even make it, and all he could think was 'at least Ahsoka isn't here' because it would have killed him to lose her like that, to hold her body like he held his mother's. "Fives – Fives will be alright," Anakin says, his voice breaking. He'd been shot in the abdomen, and it had hit a major artery. There'd been so much blood, and he'd – he'd panicked, blasting back the droids with the Force, giving Kix a chance to get to him.

He'll make it, but he almost didn't, and how many more times will this happen, how many more friends and brothers will he see die in front of him, while he's helpless to watch?

"Bly will be, too," Aayla tells him, and her relief over that fact is obvious. A pause as she studies him, worry in her eyes, and then, "try not to dwell on it too much."

"I don't know how to stop," he answers tiredly. He never has, even though he knows it makes him a bad Jedi; Obi-Wan would be disappointed in him, but then, what else is new?

She presses their foreheads together, and he leans closer, winding his arms around her, and exhaling a breath that's half a sob. Something flickers through her eyes, and he knows what it is, because he's seen it in Padme's eyes before, but he doesn't stop her when she presses the lightest of kisses to his mouth. He should stop her. He doesn't. He can't, doesn't know how when he needs a distraction from the war so very badly. Even if he could go to Padme now, even if they'd married at the beginning of the war instead of waiting, he wouldn't.

She's too good for him, too light. She – he can't make her understand the things in his mind, wouldn't do it even if he could, because he doesn't want to – to drag her into the darkness with him. He's afraid of hurting her, of… tarnishing her somehow, especially after – after –

But Aayla is here and real and she understands the war and the pain and the death. She's lived it with him, side-by-side, and he feels so horribly guilty over what he did over what he was forced to do over those things on Zygerria that he never lets himself dwell on because it makes him feel the need to rip his skin off to get those feelings away. He hated it, hates it, hates what happened, what he did, what she made him do, hates that he was weak enough to give in and submit, because there was Padme who was waiting for him when they'd promised each other a future and he was ruining it, did ruin it, and he can't fix it, can't make it better or change it or reverse it or –

Aayla kisses him again, a little more purposefully, intently, and he responds to it instinctively, fragments of thoughts bouncing around in his mind, demanding his attention, making him feel dirty and violated, but the insistent pressure of her mouth against his, gentle instead of demanding, tender instead of dominating, brings him back to the present.

It's calming and soothing, and nothing at all like – like –

He tries to shove those memories back, but it's hard when they're so close, so present, threatening to invade his every intimate moment with another.

"What's troubling you?" Aayla asks pulling back, her hand warm and grounding on his neck. "I know it's not just the battle."

Anakin makes a quiet, strangled noise, dropping his head on her shoulder so he doesn't have to look at her. It's been burning inside of him for so long, and he can't get rid of it, no matter what he does, and even Padme's touch didn't chase it away from his mind. "She ruined me," he manages, voice muffled. "She – she – I – we – I didn't want it, but I still did it when she demanded it, and I cannot get it out of my head, no matter what I do."

Aayla's fingers card through his hair, gentle, light, comforting, but he can still feel a tendril of anger creeping over their bond. "Who? Who is she?"

He can't say the name; it gets stuck in his throat, and he chokes on it. "Zygerria," he whispers instead, as much of an answer as he can ever give. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he needs someone else to know, so he's not drowning in these memories all alone.

Her anger flares, sharp and hot and protective, and she reaches to him in the Force, touching him soothingly over their bond, pushing feelings of safety to him. "She's gone," she offers, assures, "But I know it's not that easy to forget things." Her grip around him tightens, making him feel protected, and he needs it, needs it more than anything, even if it's not real, because at the end of the day, they're both Jedi, and the Order has to come first. "Do you… want me to help you?" she asks hesitantly.

He shouldn't, but he needs to be able to look at Padme someday and be able to touch her without feeling like throwing up and without feeling as if he's ruining her, too, the way he himself has been. "Yeah," he rasps, lifting his head. Aayla watches him, waiting, letting him take his time as he gathers himself together and leans toward her, kissing her very lightly, uncertainly.

Her hand strokes along his back as they exchange slow kisses, and finally, she pulls back. "Is this still okay?" she asks, ever mindful of him.

He nods wordlessly. It's good. It's… The thoughts aren't intruding the way they were earlier.

"Tell me if it becomes too much," she requests. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?"

He considers that, feels the pinpricks of anticipation skate down his spine, mingled with something akin to dread. Anxiety, maybe. She's not forcing him to do anything, though. Aayla is good. She'd never do that. "Okay," he agrees shakily. "Yeah."

Aayla helps. She's his friend, and he trusts her, and they can help each other. It helps to have someone they can turn to when the war takes its toll on them. They don't officially talk about what they are, but it's pretty obvious. It goes without saying that they don't tell anyone – they can't, since they're Jedi, and what they are doing is forbidden, against the Code, but it – it doesn't seem wrong, and Anakin needs the closeness and intimacy, almost as much as Aayla herself seems to.

Obi-Wan finds out by accident.

They hadn't been as careful as they should have been – Anakin had forgotten to lock his door.

He has her pressed against the wall, needing to feel the closeness, and they're both half out of their clothing when the door opens. "Anakin, I –" Obi-Wan begins, and then stops. For a moment, all three of them freeze in place, before Obi-Wan backs out with a pointed, "– will talk to you later."

The whole thing is unreasonably hilarious, for some reason, and he and Aayla spend a good five minutes laughing over it, which they probably shouldn't, because they could get in huge trouble if Obi-Wan reported on them to the Council. Which he ought to. They'd be reprimanded, and probably reassigned to different sides of the galaxy. Still, the look of absolute horror on Obi-Wan's face was priceless to behold.

It doesn't last forever, their relationship, or even for that long, just barely over a month before the Outer Rim Sieges break out and they amicably part ways, both knowing that whatever they had is now over.

Aayla helped him, helped him put his broken, damaged pieces back together, helped him find comfort in intimacy instead of just fear and anxiety. She helped him heal, gave him a chance at having a future and family again, and that's something he can never repay her for. He wouldn't even know how.

**w**

Present day

They sit in a comfortable silence, letting a breeze from the desert wash over them. They are both different people now than when they were last together in person, darker, a little more damaged, but they're still them, and they're still friends.

Sometimes, like right now, Anakin can hardly believe that it's been nearly five months, half a year, since the Empire formed. It feels like only yesterday, some days, that it all happened, and other times, it feels as though it's been so much longer.

"What will happen with… us, now?" Aayla queries, and even if she doesn't spell it out explicitly, it's pretty obvious what she means.

That means Anakin needs to tell her about Padme, something he isn't looking forward to at all; it's bound to be an exceedingly awkward conversation.

"I – there is something… I should tell you," Anakin begins, feeling awkward, entirely uncertain how to even explain any of this. Not looking at her helps, though, makes it a little bit easier. "I – you know Senator Amidala, don't you?"

"Yes," she answers, "I've met her sometimes. I wouldn't say I know her well, but I know her."

How is he supposed to say this? He doesn't have a problem with talking about himself, but he – he knows that he sometimes lacks the diplomacy that many others have, probably because Basic wasn't his first language. He can be too blunt sometimes, and bluntness isn't what he needs right now, but he doesn't really know any other way of speaking.

"She – she was there, when I was first freed from slavery," he tells her, deciding to start at the beginning. "We… became friends, I suppose, because she was kind. She saw me as a person when most did not. She was… freeborn. And I – we – when – before the war broke out, when there were assassination attempts on her, I was assigned to protect her, and we came to realize then how much we cared for each other." He pauses, breathing out shakily, wrapping his arms around himself, mirroring her position. He can feel her watching him, but he can't bring himself to look at her, not yet.

"We talked about marrying," he says honestly, "And I seriously considered it, even if it was against the Code, but there was the war, and we would have been living a lie. I did not want to do that. She did not want it, either, so we – we decided to wait, until after the war, when I would be free to leave the Order without abandoning my duty. But then Zygerria happened, and things… changed a little. You know how much I struggled with… closeness, and I do not know that I would have been able to explain it to her." Even after Ahsoka left, in their first and last time together, he had felt the anxiety crawling over his skin, but he'd been determined, and he'd ignored it. It worked then, but he doesn't know how long that would have remained true.

"You helped me with it," he continues, finally turning to look at her, reaching out to take her hand, "And it is… much easier for me now. I don't fear… closeness like I used to. I care about you. I do. But I love Padme, too, and we – we… were together, once, and she – we have a child now, a child I have never seen. It is not safe for them to have me close. Once this is over, once the galaxy is safe, perhaps then I will be able to… have the family I dream of, but until then, I must fight, for them, for… everyone."

Aayla squeezes his hand. "I understand," she answers. "I'll admit that I didn't expect it, any of that, but I understand." There is a sort of resigned acceptance in her words, and in the Force. "You have someone waiting for you, and I know she must be a good person, for you to care for her so deeply. This – it won't change anything. I'll still stay with you and help you."

"Thank you," Anakin whispers, feeling the sudden, inexplicable urge to cry, but he stubbornly forces it back. Aayla is a true friend, and perhaps that is why, because he has never had a friend like her, who would do anything for him, even if it hurts her to do so. She doesn't need to say that she cares about him because her words speak for themselves. If she didn't care, she wouldn't stay. She's strong. Resourceful. She could easily make her own way and go into hiding somewhere far from him, but she's choosing to stay and fight, and he's grateful to her for that.

"Of course," she replies. "Anything." They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, a contented understanding resonating between them before she breaks it again. "I have never seen a… lightaxe like that," she remarks, "But the one, the blue one, that one has my kyber crystal in it. I thought I could take it out and remake my lightsaber again. Even if I don't use it often, it will be good to have it, at least."

"And I could use some sparring practice," Anakin answers. "I can locate whatever parts you need."

"What of the other crystal?" she queries. "What will we do with it?"

Anakin pauses, considering it for a few moments, before a smile spreads across his face. "We'll keep it for Reva," he answers. "She is only eleven still, but she will need a lightsaber of her own. She will need to be able to fight, to protect herself." What happened yesterday won't happen again with Jabba dead, but his henchmen are hardly the only ones who could pose a threat to Reva, or any of them. If she can fight, protect herself, she'll have a better chance of evading capture should someone come after her.

"She is your padawan, then?" Aayla asks curiously.

"My daughter," Anakin corrects without even hesitating, remembering Reva's soft can I call you dad from earlier. "The Jedi are gone. There is no Order anymore. We are… no longer Jedi, and I would not make Reva a padawan, even if that was not so, because she is just a child, not a soldier. I raised Ahsoka as a soldier, because of the war, and it is something I regret. I cannot do that again. With Reva… it will be different. She will not fight now unless it is to defend herself. She is still young."

"Yeah," Aayla murmurs, a weighted sorrow in her words. "I will help you teach her, Anakin, if that's what you want."

"I do," he answers immediately. "It will be good to not be the only former Jedi here. Tatooine needs us, and we need to be ready."

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