By My Side

Chapter 12 - Struggles

Author's Note: In which Anakin has a midnight chat with Rex, an emotional contemplation/chat about the snipy child he accidently gave his heart to, had the battle continues. Also, since most of this is Anakin's POV, I'm just gonna... put a warning for how this is the tiniest bit screwed up. :) And we finally get a glimpse into Rex's POV. :D

~ Rivana Rita

He does not appreciate working with Tarkin so soon. It's fine, though, because Anakin usually doesn't like the people he has to work with. He does it, anyway, because it's necessary. He's long gotten used to working with people who dislike him, and who he can't get along with.

Honestly, if he can survive a week alone with Master Windu, he can survive this.

That doesn't make it easy. That doesn't mean he can't stop remembering how this is the man who destroyed Ahsoka's life.

One of them, anyway. He may have been the prosecutor at her trial, but he wasn't the one who was supposed to take care of her and instead threw her out. That was a betrayal he can never forgive the Council for, ever, because Ahsoka was his child, and – and she was the best of them. She deserved it least of all.

Anakin tries to push his bitterness aside, though, because he knows the Jedi do try, even if they do, and often, fail. They don't stand by people, he's come to realize. They don't care about individuals, even if he hates to admit it, even to himself.

Anakin does. It's why they never get along, because after spending the first nine years of his life forgotten by the Jedi on an Outer Rim planet because no one cared, he could never do the same to another.

Ahsoka is sleeping next to him, peacefully. She hasn't yet started being plagued by nightmares that were so frequent later into the war.

It's nice to see her calm, and Anakin wishes he could feel the same himself, but he can't. It doesn't help how this feels like it's a memory or a figment of his own imagination, sometimes. How does he know this is real?

He can't sleep, but he doesn't want to drag himself back to wakefulness and get up and do something, for fear of the image being lost.

Ahsoka is curled up next to him in their tent, and Anakin doesn't remember the last time she slept like this. It was before she became accustomed to the constant sensation of battle, because this child is... at peace. He burns the image forever into his mind, knowing how easily it can be lost, how easily he could lose her. She could leave, any moment.

Ahsoka doesn't even twitch the slightest amount – that's how sound asleep she is, she must be exhausted – when lightning flashes outside, the sound of thunder splitting the air. Anakin hates that sound. It sounds much like explosions, and instantly sets him on edge, ready for action. And it always means more people die.

Back in the day, it would affect Ahsoka almost as badly as Anakin himself. They'd stay with each other through those nights, usually, and it was the only comfort they had. Being together was always the only comfort they had. No one is as deeply affected by the war as him, now, and he hates it. It feels like there's something wrong with him.

He rolls over and presses his face against the pillows with the hopes of blocking out the next flash of lightning. It always, always reminds him of Dooku now. He hasn't been able to look at it the same way since Geonosis – it was hard even then – and it got much worse after Naboo. If he ever manages to fall asleep, nightmares plague him endlessly.

He wishes his Ahsoka was here. His sister. It feels freeing to call her that, even if – even if he ought not to, because it's an attachment. Other Jedi have family members, but those are blood. What they share is a bond formed of love, nothing more.