Snips and Skyguy: Return of the One Shots

Turning Point

pov: i get one free period today and this happens

It's too late for this. Or maybe too early. Ahsoka is certain that it's past midnight, meaning that it's morning, and Anakin will certainly be upset if he discovers that she's awake.

But her stomach growls loudly again, and the sharp bite of hunger feels like someone trying to claw their way out of her middle. She hadn't eaten dinner; skipped it because she hadn't thought that she'd be able to keep anything down. Too nauseous. Too anxious. She has a mission tomorrow. She isn't looking forward to it.

It isn't anything overly difficult or dangerous, and certainly nothing that she hasn't done before, she thinks as she pads across the floor of her quarters, on her way to her and Anakin's kitchenette. Just a short trip to Cato Neimoidia, and Anakin is even letting her fly her own ship so she should be excited, she knows, but she can't shake the feeling that something bad is about to happen at any moment.

She wonders if Anakin feels it too. Maybe she should wake him. He doesn't like it when she stays up late, sure, but he doesn't mind talking things over with her if she really can't sleep. He'll be groggy and tired but he'll always make time for her; let her lay her head on his chest and listen to everything that she has to say, no matter how badly he wants to go back to sleep.

She doesn't even have to go to his room to find him tonight, however, because as soon as she exits her quarters, she can see that the refrigerator light is already on, dimly illuminating the tiny kitchen. The silhouette of a figure taller than the fridge itself stands in front of it.

Anakin is very still and she wonders for a few moments if the idiot has fallen asleep, standing up. But then, he's turning around, pushing a hand through his bed head and raising his eyebrows at her as she walks over to him. The fridge door hangs ajar behind him.

"What are you doing out of bed?" he asks, cupping her cheek, tone somewhat stern, but lips gentle when they press against her head, his way of checking for an elevated temperature, likely thinking that that is her reason for being up so late.

"Hungry," she says in explanation after he pulls back, hand falling to her shoulder, "but... not, at the same time."

He laughs softly and guides her over to the counter, shutting the fridge door with an absentminded flick of his hand. She lets him lift her up onto the surface so they're at eye level. He studies her.

"What's the matter?"

She shrugs her shoulders.

"I don't know."

"I'm going to need more than that," he urges with a half smile.

She shrugs again.

"I feel anxious but I don't know what about. I'm not scared for our mission tomorrow—"

"Today."

"—today, I just feel like something isn't right. I don't know how to describe it." She shakes her head, looking down at her hands uselessly.

He hops up onto the counter as well, right beside her.

"Talk to me."

She looks up into his eyes—really looks at them—closely enough that she's able to see the dark bags beneath them and the red lines around the rim that contrast starkly against his skin. She can see the exact point where his scar begins, further up than most people would think because the dark line is slightly faded at the tips, and the exact point where it ends.

And she feels something almost poignant—like she's nostalgic for a memory that she hasn't yet made.

"What is it?" he asks, eyes flicking from side to side, trying to read her odd expression.

Her eyebrow markings furrow, and she leans against him, waiting for his arms to fold gently around her shoulders before she speaks next.

"I love you," she says. "I just thought you should know that. You know, in case anything happens tomorr—today."

He laughs again, quietly and only a little bit, the rumble in his chest soft against her montrals.

"I'll make sure that we both make it back here, safe and sound. I promise, Snips," he replies with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder. "And I love you too."

She pulls back, hoping that the ache in her chest is gone, but to no avail. She feels like she misses him, but that's impossible because he's sitting right there in front of her.

"Want me to make you something warm to drink?" he suggests with a small grin, and she's glad that her anxiety doesn't seem to be seeping through to his end of the bond that they share.

Her stomach protests against it, but she nods her head because something is telling her that this is the last time that she'll ever hear that familiar offer from him.

"You've still got three hours or so before we're supposed to leave," he says, checking his wrist chrono. "It's just past three."

She just nods her head, and doesn't say anything else until her hands are toasty, a steaming mug of warm milk pressed between them.

"Want me to sit with you?" he asks. "Or do you need some time alone."

And everything in her screams in protest at the second option, telling her that she's going to forever regret asking him to leave her by herself.

"Stay, please," she requests between sips, laughing into the cup when Anakin reaches a hand up to her face to wipe away the blue milk mustache that coats her upper lip.

He knocks their shoulders together and neither of them say a word until the sky grows light and it's time to leave because Ahsoka is snoring lightly against his collarbone in no less than fifteen minutes.

He takes the half-full cup from her hands and dumps its contents down the drain before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her back into her room. He tucks her into bed and she doesn't stir at all, but something in the Force is off that he can't describe, so he sits by her side for a bit longer than usual, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest until his own eyes grow weary.

He has just enough energy to stumble back into his own room and collapse into bed before he's out like a light, wondering why tonight feels like a turning point.

THE MUSIC IN THE DOCUMENTARY WE'RE WATCHING IN HISTORY SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE AHSOKA LEAVES IM TRYING NOT TO CRY