#skyguy writes

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo(O0O)ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A/N: Hello There! I have not forgotten about my other fics I swear, I've had this sitting in my docs fully completed for like?? A month? For no good reason??? Anyway I'm finally getting it out and posting it XD Enjoy! There will be a chapter two and possibly two alternate endings. Annnddd if you know me, you'll know chances are I come back and make both full-blown AUs. Enjoy!

The aching in his heart didn’t cease with waiting, it didn’t stop with pacing, or tears, or trying again and again to convince himself that Palpatine had lied and the man who seemed to be his friend (his father) was a facade and a lie. The aching was more stubborn than he was.

Was he lying when he said he could save her?

Anakin’s pacing stopped by the window and his eyes drifted to the skyline, searching for a glimpse of the woman he would die for a thousand times over without a moment’s hesitation and he didn’t mean to let a tear slip but he couldn’t keep it in.

She’ll die. She’ll die if I don’t do something.

His little sister’s face flashed before his eyes with that cocky smile and brilliant joy and eyes the same shade of his, then a figure walking into the glowing gold and red of the setting sun, walking away from him because he’d failed her and he couldn’t keep her safe from the very people she trusted and who were meant to protect her.

He saw mother’s warm and shining smile like the sister-suns of Tatooine and felt her gentle hands holding his, her strong and steady arms around him that always made him feel like if only she never let go the whip could never touch him until the stars burned out and he could almost taste his favorite Tzai tea on the tip of his tongue. Then the same face bloodied and torn, worse than he’d ever seen it even when Gardulla beat her. He still remembered the way her body trembled and her fingers brushing his face.

I failed them.

The memories stung as they faded more than they’d burned as they came.

I lost them.

His nails bit into his skin as he clenched his fist.

I can’t lose her.

The decision didn’t even seem like his, it didn’t seem like a question, it seemed like he was looking down a tunnel with one start and one end and there was no way out of it but to go where it led. The only control he had here was when he would rush out that door, but-

When he turned to pick his all-too heavy feet off the ground and run while seconds ran out, the gaping windows and steel arches faded before his eyes and desert sand stung his heels, thrown in his face by the burning wind that shouldn’t exist in the closed-off space. He blinked to clear his vision and he was standing on the edge of a precipice with pools of shadow filling the bottom. He was inches away from falling in, it would only take one person, one push to take his feet out from under him and his breath away and send him spiralling headfirst into the river of darkness below that would drown him and everyone he loved.

The dark wrapped around him and urged him to jump, tugging at his clothes and pushing at his back, and it seemed it would be so easy to just give in and let himself fall but the panic throwing his heart to his throat froze his limbs in place when he saw Padme’s agonized face carved in the shadows below, saw exactly what he would be falling toward, only her pain.

He felt strong hands push him back and away from the gaping dark that at that point he couldn’t have stopped himself from falling into and whispered voices fill his ears, three that he recognized and many that he didn’t. The woman’s voice he heard comforting him through desert storms decades ago promised that he was still and would always be loved and the spirited tone of a girl that brought back memories of battles turned into games to make the pain less whispered soothingly. There was a man’s voice he barely remembered as belonging to the man who found him as a boy and believed in him when the council rejected him. There were more lost in the river that he couldn’t recognise and didn’t know, but there was one more, the last, as the whispers of the rest faded.

“Anakin,” It was a woman’s, deep and hollow and empty as the rolling dunes of his home planet and he knew it like someone who’d been by his side every moment of his life even though he couldn’t remember hearing it before. “Ekkereth. Never forget what your name means. Never forget where you came from.”

He realized he wasn’t breathing and couldn’t even if he tried until the clear blue sky faded all too fast and all too slow at the same time into the cold, steel ceiling of the council chamber again and the wind stopped throwing stinging sand in his face. He made himself shake the dizziness from his head that might or might not have had anything to do with lack of sleep and got to his feet, ignoring the way the room swayed. His breathing seemed too loud in the unnatural quiet and the sun was set now.

How long was that?

The next thing that filled his ears was screams. Loud and terror-filled and despairing that made his blood freeze even though he’d heard screaming before. Then the sound of blaster fire.

Wide and secure doors slid open to let in a gaggle of younglings, all kinds of races and ages, the eldest a boy with dirty blonde hair leading the group inside. All of them stopped when they spotted Anakin for about three seconds.

“Master!”

“Master Skywalker!”

All of them rushed forward in desparate hope to gather around and cling to him, begging to know what was going on and if they would be okay.

“They shot Whie!”

“-Blue and white-”

“They have blaster-”

“-they attacking us?”

“They have-”

“-Happened for them to hate us-”

“-Be okay?”

“Master Ti told us-”

“We came here as fast-”

From the thunder of cries he was just barely able to understand that they were being attacked by someone, someone with soldiers in white and blue that moved like droids in scarily lifeless synchrony and shouted about an order numbered sixty-six. One man in blue and white had shot three younglings dead as they’d run here. A togrutan girl called Ashla told him this tearfully with a voice that shook so much he could barely tell what she was saying.

He looked down at the pleading eyes and desparate faces and thought of his own child, nestled safe in Padme’s womb, and got down on the children’s level. When he spoke he made an effort to be quiet enough not to scare them.

“Okay, okay shh. We can’t let them hear you.”

It didn’t stop a few from crying but the clamor quieted enough for his ears to stop ringing while his mind was already forming a plan (or at least trying through the fog).

There’re hidden passages that lead outside the temple, I know how to get there, then we’d need to reach Senator Organa’s apartment, he’ll help, but we need a distraction and someone to close the doors behind us-

A lump formed in his throat and dread settled in his gut, but he looked down at the children again and thought of his own, his child.

I have to. Kriff, I have to.

He couldn’t help the thought that Padme would be heartbroken and his child would never know their father.

The children’s voices cut through his thoughts again and pushed back the fog, the teary cry of the togrutan girl- Ashla, that was her name, why was it so hard to remember her name? Why did he keep replacing it with the name of another girl he knew?

“Master Skywalker, what do we do?”

He felt her little fingers tighten around a fistfull of his sleeve and offered a comforting smile that he was sure was far from convincing.

“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll make it through this I promise. Listen to me, this is important.”

He took a moment to force down the lump in his throat.

“This… this is going to be scary, but I need you all to be brave. Can you be brave for me?”

The children seemed to have heard this before but they took it as a promise and a challenge, there was hardly a question in the way they exchanged glances and small nods

“We’ll follow you, Master.” Ashla promised him, he blinked and saw Ahsoka’s face on hers, small and afraid but so endlessly trusting, and couldn’t help but feel like this girl was misplacing her trust.

I came too close to falling.

The image of the gaping precipice lingered on the edge of his vision, a taunting reminder of everything, and the whispers still echoed in his ears.

“Okay. There are ways that lead out of the temple that whoever’s attacking won’t know about. I’ll lead you there, and then you need to find Senator Bail Organa. He’s a friend to the Jedi. You all know how to get to the Senate Building?”

A series of small nods and some quiet “yes”s were his answer.

“Good. Once you enter there will be a Republic and a Jedi symbol a small ways down. Head down the passage marked by the Republic symbol and turn left when you see a streak of blue on the wall. There will be a door that opens into his apartment at the end, built into the statue of the Alderaan crest. Tell him Anakin Skywalker sent you, that the temple has been attacked, and that you need his help. Got it?”

The boy with dirty blonde hair nodded and stepped to the front of the group.

“We understand, Master.”

“Good. That’s- That’s good.” He swallowed hard in an attempt to keep his feelings down.

“But what about you?”

Ashla refused to let the subject go, her small hands each grabbing fistfulls of his tunic and her eyes wide and pleading, searching for some assurance that he would live as well.

Assurance he couldn’t give.

He plastered a smile on his lips and prayed to whatever was listening it was convincing enough and laid a hand on Ashla’s shoulder, his voice a whisper.

“Hey. I’ll be fine, okay? We all will be. We’re Jedi, got it?”

It was the easiest lie that had ever slid off his tongue, and he hated it, another emotion he had to pack down tight and pretend never existed.

When he got to his feet and led them out through winding halls and so many turns that once it would have made his head spin (very, very long ago when he was still young in body though he’d never really been a child) he winced at every footstep and froze at the sound of every shot (even more at the soft thunk that meant a body hitting the floor).

The first time they ran into their attackers his heart dropped and his mouth dried up when he recognized the white and blue of the 501st, and then came the bitter, angry, burning that was betrayal. Those were his men (his brothers) and they were turning to fire on the people they’d sworn to protect, and their signatures in the Force were blank like a droid’s and so cold. He felt the cold, empty, blankness and hated it, hated it with burning fire.

He barely realized he’d raised his weapon to deflect the bolts until he saw his brother’s bodies hit the floor.

He saw the rise and fall of their chests as they drew their last wheezing breath and he felt cold, and he hated the cold. He hated the bitterness of it and the way it made his fingers stiff and pushed away the tiny voices whispering guilt into his mind that might have, in another world, made him wonder if there wasn’t more to this than simple betrayal.

It didn’t matter.

It was probably a full minute before his blade returned to the hilt and he could pick his feet up off the ground again to run. The children radiated terror like six tiny suns and he could feel their hearts pounding, pushing ice through their veins. Maybe they hadn’t realized he was deadly. Maybe they hadn’t even thought about it or wanted to.

It didn’t matter.

“This way,”

He didn’t realize how icy his voice sounded until the words left his mouth and then he couldn’t take them back. He wondered if he’d ever be able to unsee the way all six children flinched at the voice and looked at him with such fear.

“We’ll be okay,”

He tried to make his voice sound warmer but it sounded tight and unsure (I shouldn’t be unsure, we’re getting out, we’ll be fine) and he hated it. So he gave up and picked his feet off the ground and tried so hard to forget it all.

The next time they ran into troopers he didn’t hesitate and made it quick, but he hated the feel of his blade burning through his brothers’ flesh more than he’d hated anything else (some traitorous voice he tried to ignore hoped he’d been quick enough that they hadn’t felt it).

He felt like he was in a rainstorm.

With some small touch of hysteria he thought that this was certainly a bitter twist to the meaning of his name.

Do you know what your name means?

For the third time that day he couldn’t make his feet move and his mouth felt dry. He wondered if there was a word in any language for something you don’t remember knowing but that feels like a part of you all the same.

Rain,

He saw raindrops on a windowpain, trickling down, slowly, carefully, until they reached an ocean.

A river…

He saw a desert, the desert, the one to which this voice belonged, the one he’d known since his birth, and he saw a river welling up from cracks in the dry earth, a stream of life.

Life. Do you know what the water brings? Do you remember, Anakin?

The river was gone and he saw the gaping precipice at his feet again, ready to swallow him whole and throw his bones to the wind, and the fear returned.

Remember…

He saw the river’s first drops fill the bottom and wash away the shadows.

Bring the rain to the desert,

The water began to flow with force, scrubbing away the pain and filling it with life.

With the river comes freedom.

He squeezed his eyes shut to keep his tears in but only pushed them out. Another memory broke to the front of his mind, his mother’s voice telling him, “You can’t hold back a rainstorm, Ani…”

You know what the cost is.

He was dimly aware of a child tugging at his fingers, worried pleas bouncing off his ears, and as he brought himself back from the depths of his mind he whispered,

“I know.”

Sounds filtered back in, Ashla’s voice registering first - Kriff, she sounds so much like her - and he opened his eyes only to be met with the sight of at least ten men fallen and most of the younger children staring at him from a few feet back with wide, wild eyes.

“Master?” A firmer tug at his robes accompanied Ashla’s voice. “Master we need to go!”

A small smirk was all he could manage for the girl when he looked down to see the same reckless, untamable, spunky spirit as a girl - Woman. She’s grown now, I can’t keep thinking of her as a child - that he called his sister. It hurt. And it hurt even more because he knew he’d been slipping on the edge of the Precipice.

These children need better.

His eyes flicked to the hall they were about to turn down. A clear run to the tunnels from here.

“Go. Keep going. You know the way. I’ll come behind to make sure no one follows and close the door behind you.”

It didn’t seem to register with the younger children what he’d just implied. An older boy with sun-bleached blonde hair that almost made Anakin think of another boy with dirty blonde locks from a planet far in the outer rim froze in place with wide eyes.

Ashla wasn’t having any of it.

“No! Not without you! I’m not going without you!”

Her eyes were wide and wild with fear and fire that refused to leave anyone behind, not even him, and he hated to think what had happened to forge such a flame.

She can’t be more than nine…

“I’m going with you,” He promised. “I’ll just come later. Trust me, okay? I’ll meet you outside.”

The promise that could so easily be a lie tasted like salt in a dry mouth.

Time To Get Out (I Hold You In My Heart Forever)

HIHIHIHIHIH SO! Sorry for the long wait, my sister nearly killed herself and I've been pretty unstable also my PC had a siezure and that took a bit to fix. Also it's my birthday. I've had this thing sitting in my docs for *checks notes* a week? For no good reason? But anyway enjoy! And again, he is not out of the danger zone yet *evil grin* so comment or I kill him.

The wild patter of the children's footsteps mingled with an all-too syncronized, all-too unnaturally perfect thunder steadily approaching. It made him think of the droids, lifeless, mindless, cold. He wished these were droids.

Appo, Kickback, Longshot…

…What happened…?

This time he listened to the tiny voice screaming that there must be some mistake because these were his boys, his brothers, the men who'd had his back battle after battle and year after year through a war they had no choice but to fight. This couldn't be a simple betrayal, it just wasn't because his boys weren't like that.

He let the tears out this time.

A bolt nearly the same shade as his saber flew at him and missed by about a foot.

Another reason this can't be them.

He scoffed at the thought.

My boys don't miss.

He heard the tiny twi'lek girl's scream and turned his focus back to helping the children that had put their trust in him (in the wrong place), throwing out his hands to slam the door shut the moment he saw the last child slip into the dark.

Ashla's eyes lit with blue flame again and she let out a cry, flinging her tiny body at the crack right before the massive stone door hid her from view, desparate not to leave another behind. He could almost hear her mental cry of "No, not you too, not anyone else."

"I'm sorry…" He whispered, a near-silent promise to another he would have to leave, another promise likely broken.

He wondered if she'd live to hate him for it.

Another plasma bolt whizzed past his head, much closer now, and the attackers came into full view for the first time. Bolts flew down the hall in rapid bursts, and the aim was getting better with each shot.

All he could do was pray that they hadn't seen the children or noticed the door shut.

All he could do was hope he would live long enough to keep his latest promise, even as he felt anger rising in his throat again.

A bolt slipped past his defenses and grazed his wrist, not enough to be serious but enough to bleed, and a sign that he wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer. He swore internally as another flew just over his shoulder.

Not good.

Blood from the wound in his wrist was dripping down to his hand, making his grip on his 'saber slip just enough to be way too risky.

Time to get out.

He waited, blocked what he could, and the moment he saw a chance (a gap in their middle) he threw out his uninjured hand and the Force sent them flying back. Some hit the wall and slumped in heaps, others seemed just dazed enough for a break in the fire.

Anakin ran.

His thoughts raced as he reached the threshold of a nearby room, glancing back for just long enough to make sure that those who were getting up were coming for him, not the children, and slammed the durasteel door shut tight.

About five injured or unconcious, six or so still on their feet. Should take them a bit to hardwire the door or break it down. Speaking of-

He checked the door to see if it could be locked and breathed a quiet thanks to the Force that it could. The lock slid into place with a satisfying click.

Now I have a minute.

His gaze swept around the room and fell first on a large window (hopefully not transparasteel), and likely his best means of escape, so he turned his gaze to the rest of the room in hopes of spotting something to break it.

Mostly empty, except…. Force, that's Tal and Ker…

Death was something he'd seen a million times before, cold and ruthless and without favorites to leave untouched. He *already* hated watching the color drain from an already pale face and feeling the heat fade from fingers wrapped in his, hated it, but to feel so many people he'd grown with, lived with, known for years, fade like this…

"Your luck finally ran out, huh." He whispered. "You were supposed to outlive us all, you di'kute."

The cold was back.

He felt so numb.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the clones were still not through the door and figured from the blurred voices and sound of pulling wires that he still had about two minutes. More than enough time.

The twins were still holding hands, fingers wrapped tightly enough that all blood flow had surely been cut off even before their hearts stopped beating, and he placed his hands on top of theirs.

"Ni su'cuyi…"

He remembered the first time Tal had found him in a hallway, only a year or so after he'd joined the order, with tears on his face and eyes on the barely-visible stars above Coruscant, and the way she'd sat down next to him and just waited for him instead of pressing, and swallowed hard.

"Gar kyr'adyc…"

He remembered Ker's initial reluctance and snark, unwilling to accept an 'outsider', until Tal convinced him that Anakin really wasn't and the first time Ker named the stars with them.

"Ni partayli, gar darasuum."

The lump in his throat swelled.

"Tal, and Ker." He smiled weakly. "You'll live longer among the stars than you ever would've here, I guess. I hope your luck follows you."

When he pulled his hands away he saw that the blood on his hand from the wound on his wrist had left a red handprint on top of theirs. It felt right somehow, that he left something behind with them, marked them with his blood.

He got up to go, then stopped. It didnt feel right to leave yet, not when his brothers - because they were still his brothers, even through treason, and this couldn't be simple betrayal, it just. Couldn't. Be. - were being left behind, no mark, no remembrance.

The body of a fallen 501st trooper lay nearby, and he wondered if he'd recognize the face behind the helmet, but there wasn't time. He pressed his palm against the armor and whispered a quick apology, before pulling the nearest heavy piece of debris across the room and into his hands.

The window shattered on impact.

Not transparasteel, then.

There was a pounding on the door and a hiss came from the edges as they un-sealed before it started to slide open.

He jumped.

Mando'a for all the heathens who don't speak it:

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum - Daily remembrance of those passed on *I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.* Followed by repetition of loved ones' names. (Gar darasuum - Lit "I hold you in my heart forever")

Di'kute - Idiots, etc, used here as half a playful insult half a curse for leaving him when they, with their unholy amount of luck and long lifespans, should have outlived him and he's almost angry.

(All art by me, minuse top image. Bottom one was done in ten seconds sorry)

Ashes (Will I Still Be The Same)

Ashes (Will I Still Be The Same)

Silence.

The quiet spark of determination meant to free one person that would grow to a blazing sun was born in silence and darkness.

Koshpai'rah…

Whitefire.

She was named Whitefire for a reason. And it fit her. Her heart blazed with it.

People said that she got the determination from a mother she didn't have a single memory of and that couldn't have even been bothered to keep living long enough to care for her child, and the girl knew that they had to be wrong. Her fire was hers, something the masters could never, ever take. It wasn't from a woman long dead that she'd never cared for. You couldn't get attached to other people when you were a slave anyway, or it would hurt enough to kill you when you got sold away or had to watch them be beaten or killed, and you couldn't put them over yourself either. That would just kill you.

Free people could care for one another. The girl named Whitefire knew, living as a slave meant you didn't have such luxuries, As her eyes traced the rusty, filthy, bindings caked in dried blood around her wrists she wondered if maybe she would soon.

"Yaarre."

Yaarre's eyes flew open and her head snapped around to look at whoever was speaking to her, and she relaxed as she saw a kind and wrinkled face that resembled the golden dunes. Arie, just Arie. She couldn't remember her family name anymore.

"It's your turn next." The old woman's whisper was heavy with fear.

It's your turn next.

The words took a moment to settle into Yaarre's memory and her heart started pounding. Most slaves right now would be feeling dread but her veins pulsed with adrenaline.

"Thanks." She stomped on her excitement to keep it down and stood, eyes fixed on the binds around her wrists. Every step her bare feet took up worn and wooden stairs full of sand that got between her toes and made her itch came closer to the auction block and the blinding light and noise and it meant a step closer to her chance.

She wondered if she would still be Amavikka once she was free. She wondered if she would still feel the empty, endless, golden sea of dunes calling to her, saying, Daughter.

It didn't matter.

She felt rough, angry, calloused hands grasp her forearms and drag her to the middle of the auction block and didn't fight it because if she did she'd be dead, but it was when her feet hit the sandy wooden planks near the auctioneer that the muted ticking reached her ears, followed by a much less muted and quiet boom.

All at once it felt like a brick wall slammed into her chest and flung her back off the side of the red-stained block, sending her sprawling in burning, sun baked sand that stung her bare skin. She gasped for breath as the air left her lungs on impact only for more sand to tear at her parched, raw throat.

It hurt to push herself up but she had to see, and even when she was sitting up she still couldn't see anything so she forced herself to her feet and tried to look around and to wipe the sound out of her eyes so she could see. She hadn't realized she was already in a defensive position, coiled and ready to strike like the viper, until she heard the sound of pounding footsteps coming her direction and prepared to defend herself. People were running, she could barely tell who but she thought she could make out Arie's face amongst the crowd, and through the one ear that wasn't battered by the sand she thought she heard laughter.

A hand brushed hers.

She looked down and saw a child, a sea-blue girl with her face and her eyes, laughing as she ran and dancing in a way that made her lekku look like flags. The girl had only brushed her hand for a minute and she only met her eyes once but the eyes were laughing and free and not-quite-really-real in a way there was no way to put into words. And then she was gone.

Then Yaarre Whitefire turned and ran.

She followed the crowd and her bare feet pounded against loose sand and probably threw it in the face of some other poor runner but she didn't care. Dukkra ba dukkra, came that fierce voice that might have been hers and might have been her mother's, but her mother was dead.

The wind tossed sand in her face and made sure she couldn't see but she pressed on with the little grits stinging her eyes because someone had helped her and she didn't care who or why but she was taking this chance to run. When the golden dust washed from her eyes with tears she almost wished it hadn't because she was running straight toward a master who was catching whoever he could keep from escape in the chaos and confusion and if she tried to stop she couldn't stop in time and if she tried to turn she'd be running close enough for him to catch her-

She felt a calloused hand grasp her arm close to her shoulder and pull hard and she wondered if she wasn't off her feet for a brief moment when the whole world froze and she was waiting for her senses to remember anything existed. When they did remember the universe existed she felt like she had to throw up, couldn't see much else than a blur, and her arm hurt like someone had pulled it out of the socket. She was half in half out of a speeder with the most reckless driver she would likely have the pleasure of yelling at for nearly flattening her against a building and in danger of falling out.

If I knew how to drive, I would give this driver a concussion and steal the speeder myself.

All at once the emotions that just decided to freeze in the past few moments came crashing back and her face twisted into a blazing scowl. She almost yelled but managed to bite her tongue and hiss something calmer.

"If you're just going to dislocate my arm and kidnap me, the least you could do is tell me what the kriff is going on."

"Get down and hold on!" The seemingly insane driver shouted over his shoulder (at a quick glance she could tell he was young, no more than twenty maybe, and had clear Tatooine-blue eyes that made her think of rain and those impossible stories about entire planets of water). His tone was calmer than the scream she'd expected but left no room for argument.

The fire that was in her name and spirit flared at his words and she ground her teeth, biting back a million responses that she was sure would summon her mother from beyond the grave for a lecture. But she did what she'd done all her life and obeyed, she got down and found a firm enough handhold with some metal bar (part of the seats in front of her she assumed) and she hated it.

"Happy?" She shouted sarcastically. "Tell me yes or no, am I about to die?"

"Questions later!"

This man reminded her of herself in a way she didn't like.

"Jump!"

She was sure that sudden shout in a tone somewhat higher than this man had probably meant it to be held a touch of panic.

I really am going to give him a concussion.

Also on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/75679716

If Only I Had Known (I Would Have Held You Tighter)

“The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins – but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars.”

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo(O0O)oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Tiny drops of water hit the cold metal floor of the hospital room. Tears.

It took a lot to make teardrops fall from Padme Amidala’s warm, brown eyes, but she’d had about all she could take. The anguished storm swirling up inside her felt sharp enough to cut her to shreds with its bitter, biting winter winds and her body was too exhausted to let it out in any other form but tears.

Everything, everything she’d worked for and loved had been murdered and left in a bloody, unmarked grave and forgotten.

Her husband, her lifeline, her love- He wasn’t even dead  but this was worse. Ten times, no, a million times worse. Or maybe he was and this monster that now lived wasn’t him?

Ani is not a monster.

The thought brought no comfort as it whistled through her mind, carried by another gust in the raging storm.

The Republic she’d so loved and worked for and poured all of her strength into had collapsed, now led by another creature that seemed to have crawled straight out of the sith underworlds, the same man who she’d seen as a mentor, Force, they came from the same planet. 

He used me to do this.

It wasn’t a new thought but it felt like someone had thrown her into a frozen sea all over again and she was struggling to keep her head above water, struggling to move as the cold zapped the strength from her limbs and all over again she wanted to scream but couldn’t force the sound through her throat.

She’d had a part in not only the death but the burial too of everything she loved. 

Her biggest regret was her final words to her husband, that she  hadn’t said more, really seen how deep his fear ran. Force, she’d been there with him through his dreams about his mother, she should’ve known-

Her vision flashed red but not the red of anger, the red of a blade made with a bleeding crystal, clashing against blue. The pristine room around her faded, the lights flashing off altogether while the durasteel walls faded. All at once she was floating and watching, and she saw two faces, two pairs of hands each holding their blade, a battle on a smoking field of ash and rock, from no planet that she could recognize.

The first face so clearly human made her want to scream but she couldn’t force a single whisper out her sore throat. Her thoughts screamed for her.

Anakin!

He didn’t pause, he didn’t smile at her, he didn’t even seem to have heard even when all she ever wanted was to feel his arms around her and hear his voice tell her that the world wasn’t falling apart and everything had been a nightmare. 

The second face was black and angry and not even a face at all, just a mask for a monster. Padme’s heart leapt to her throat as she wondered whose face was under that mask and her gut told her what she wished she’d never heard.

She  watched blue and red hiss as they clashed over and over, a narrow swipe at the monster’s head, a sharp block preventing a blow that would have cut her husband clean down the middle and left two smoking pieces, another body  for  her to bury-

She watched the monster more machine than human flesh move just a little too quick and land a blow that should be fatal. She watched the spirit so reckless and strong and untamable fade from Tatooine-blue eyes and a blade of the same color fall from suddenly numb hands but she still couldn’t scream and all of a sudden she couldn’t  even weep.

She watched Vader - Vader, not my husband, not Anakin, a murderer, some twisted creation of Palpatine - step back from his fallen victim with pride bleeding from his stance, from the set of his shoulders to his stride,  and walk away. It made Padme’s stomach churn to know that there was a smile hidden under the mask.

All of a sudden she was there, on that battleground, able to cry out and weep and scream so she did and if there had been another life form on that planet they would have heard her screams. The harsh black rocks bruised her feet as she ran but the pain wasn’t even registered in her mind as her gentle hands turned her love onto his back and her horse voice whispered pleas into his ears.

“Please don’t die you can’t leave me you have so much left to do we have a child, Anakin, a child stay please for me for our child-”

A jumble of words that barely made sense even to her but that she knew Anakin would have understood turned to tears when her breath caught and her voice  refused to work anymore. Anakin’s eyes were still wide open and stared into hers, unseeing and dead. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought hysterically that it was ironic a boy from a desert planet had eyes the shade of blue that colored the Kaminoan oceans. 

They were full of pain and she recognized that not all his pain was from the wound spilling deep red in his flesh. The hopelessness she saw was the worst, and the loss a close second.

I’m sorry

Her voice refused to carry her words but she knew that he would have heard and maybe he still did so she continued.

I should have seen, I should have helped I shouldn’t have dismissed your fears you tried so hard Ani I’m so sorry I love you

She leaned down to plant a soft kiss in his messy hair - He never cared how messy his hair was I used to comb it for him when he was anxious - and it all went still at once when she caught that flicker of color clinging to his skin, something just a touch too stubborn to be chased away by a simple wound.

It wasn’t life, not quite or maybe it was but what she recognized wasn’t death, so maybe he wasn’t-

He’s not gone.

For the next twenty-three years Anakin Skywalker would be dead to the world, maybe, but he was not gone and he would be back. 

This something, this hope so sharp and painful it shattered something in her chest  and left a million beautiful, broken, wonderful pieces swirling around inside her she could have screamed and probably did.

He’s not gone he’ll be back he’s not dead he’s alive 

She could have sworn that she saw his lips curve into that cocky, reckless and unstoppable smile just for her.

She raised her eyes to the ashen blue sky and let tears stream down her face, washing away dust that the wind had thrown at her and she laughed, loud and joyous and full of life. It stained the air and clung to the rocks and she knew it was probably the happiest sound that this graveyard had ever heard. 

All at once and all too soon it all faded when she blinked, Anakin’s face, the rocky plain of shadow and ash and pain and the vision all together - Vision. It was a vision, something to give me hope - and the pale sky became the grey durasteel ceiling and the glaring, harsh lights of the medbay stung her eyes again. She was breathing hard, she realized, her heart was pounding and she was lying on her back on something hard and uncomfortable. She heard tiny cries and saw two small faces inches away from hers, two infants held by Obi-Wan’s gentle and calloused hands.

The first was round and sweet and he - She just knew it was a he, somehow - had Anakin’s clear Tatooine-blue eyes full of untamable, unbreakable spirit and Padme’s boundless kindness shone in them and his little chubby hand reached out to brush her cheek.

“Luke,” She breathed. It was what Ani had wanted  to name the baby if it turned out to be a boy, it meant “free” in the language of his home planet. Lukka.

The second face was fat and soft and Padme knew it had to be a girl - Twins? I had twins - with her mother’s rich, hazel brown eyes and her father’s burning, reckless and relentless fire right from birth.

“Leia.” The second name they’d chosen, if she remembered right it meant “The mighty one” in that language she couldn’t remember the name of (The language she couldn’t remember was called Amatakka, the language of Tatooine and Ar-Amu’s people, but her mind was too busy raging with too many things all at once to remember that), she’d suggested it and Anakin had told her the meaning.

Two perfect little bundles of light, two starbursts.

My starbursts, Ani’s starbursts.

She felt her breath running out and forced herself to look Obi-Wan in the eyes to gasp some last words past her dry lips. She prayed that he saw the light of hope and fire in her eyes to back up her undying belief.

“There’s good in him, I know, I know there’s still…”

She knew he understood what she meant and heard what she hadn’t managed to say.

Her heart was in peace as it pulsed for the single last time.

And stilled.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

She was his sister.

He was her brother.

This shouldn't have happened.

Sidious's blood will water the graves of every single loved one lost to her.

And she will get her brother back.

Someday.

(Full one-shot is also on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/72530311)

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo(O0O)oooooooooooooooooooooooo

“I know you, because I knew your master. One wonders… Just how similar you might become.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo(O0O)oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Blades hissed as they collided over and over, red against white, one striking viciously and the other defending with somehow equal ferocity. 

Ahsoka was burning, aching, angry all at once. She hated him. And she hated him so much because she loved him even more. 

Another clash. Another narrow block. Another moment where the blade was inches away from her face.

Hot, feral tears stung her face. This was wrong in every sense of the word. They were siblings, they had a bond and trust that simply could not be broken.

By anyone else, at least.

She’d felt that bond pull apart during order 66, and that trust shatter minutes before when she’d realized who hid behind that mask of shadows.

Her master, her friend, her brother. 

Anakin.

She felt like screaming again.

It was so wrong.

All at once, the full weight came crashing down on her again and she couldn’t hold back her screams. Her shoulders slouched under the weight of a sky full of grief. Two white blades vanished and the hilts fell from her hands. She’d let them fall.

The red blade flashed and she screamed again, falling to her knees. There was a long, deep burn across her stomach but not enough to kill her. Not enough to make her surrender.

But the one behind that mask might be.

She looked up with feral defiance only for that to shatter as again those morbid yellow eyes pierced her heart that so hurt to see them blue again.

“Y-you,” She gasped as searing pain shot from the burn with every breath. It wasn’t the physical pain that hurt so much as the knowledge of who had made that wound. 

“You promised that-”

She was cut off by another gasping wheeze but she didn’t need to finish. A Force echo of a moment years ago sounded, crying, “I would never let anything hurt you, Ahsoka, never!”

He wavered. She was sure that the sickly shade of yellow in his eyes flashed blue. 

The red blade clattered to the floor.

The voice of her master came out strangled through his modulator.

“Goodbye, Snips.”

When he turned around and left, footsteps echoing on the stone floor, it cut deeper than any lightsaber could have. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced words through her clenched teeth. After tonight, may the Force strike her down if the empire didn’t fall by her hand.

“I will find you.”

It was a whispered promise. She wouldn’t leave him. He would come back to her. She heard a voice answer hers from the shadows of where he’d gone.

“On darkest night.”