pencilcase | open rp post

[It isn't right to be here. Anakin knows that as well as anyone, but after his conversation with Palpatine—the Sith Lord—he can't help but take his ship to find her. He feels lost, pulled in so many directions, and every time he closes his eyes, he can see the life slipping out of Padmé. After all, Jedis don't have nightmares; they have visions, versions of the Force that may come to pass. And he knows, he knows, that he has to accept life and death better. A war should have taught him that lesson be now. But it hasn't. It hasn't. He doesn't ... he doesn't want to lose her. He can't.

He's already lost Ahsoka. If she were here, the answer would be simple. It's why he seeks her out now. Turning to Obi-Wan isn't an answer he wants to consider. Every day, he feels a greater and greater divide between him and his master. Once, he believed that he trusted him—but that had been an illusion, some trick he had played on himself. (Or was it? Was it? He can't say.)

How he finds her is easy: it isn't the Force that guides him to her. It's his own knowledge of where she might go. Onderon is still being re-established, and he knows that if she had a choice, she'd return there to help, even guiding from a distance. It's how he found her the first time, and his gut (the Force, this is where it does play in) tells him to seek her there again.

Anakin isn't surprised when he breaks into the small hut where she lives to find a rather simplistic lifestyle. The Jedi lead ascetic lives, trained to want to indulge in very little. It's a way of ensuring that they never become too selfish. It's odd that he's adapted to much of that, but he knows Padmé is waiting for him, and she had always been one of the things he could never let go. (And the other, his mother, had been ripped from him cruelly.)

He overturns some of the holovids that she has sitting on a nearby shelf while he waits for her. He knows that he's curious about what captures her attention now, but he can only be so invasive, and being here is bad enough.

He also knows that he can't be here for long. He'll have to tell Mace Windu what he learned from Palpatine. Right now, he still doesn't know what the right answer is, and it feels like the girl he's waiting for may be the only one who knows. Oh, the answer should be obvious. Yes, Anakin knows that, and yet—]

[Ahsoka feels Anakin's presence the moment he enters their atmosphere. How could she not? It's Anakin. Even with their bond slightly withered from lack of recent use, Anakin's presence is unique among all the Jedi. A blinding light. She pauses in the middle of her discussion with the Onderon leaders and shakes her head wryly, but Anakin will have to wait until she's done here. It's a boring meeting about petty local politics, but a necessary one all the same, and she silently thanks the Force for Anakin's obvious infatuation with Senator Amidala that led him to take her to so many Senate meetings. She hated sitting through every single one of them, and dozed off in more than a few, but they prepared her for this.

(There is no doubt in her mind that Anakin wouldn't have taken her to watch them as often if he wasn't carrying a torch for Padmé. Anakin's distaste for politics was even more pronounced than her own.)

Once they finish up, she excuses herself politely. Normally she sticks around to make small talk afterward-- she does actually care about these people and their lives, even if the business of slowly rebuilding a government is tiresome-- but not today. Anakin wouldn't have come if it weren't important. So she leaves in a hurry, locating him in the Force at or around her quarters.

Jumping on her speeder, she steels herself on the ride home. Tries to center herself in the Force. She isn't sure what's prompted this sudden, unannounced visit, but the Force (and logic) tells her that it can't be anything good. Conflicting feelings war in the pit of her stomach-- happiness, about seeing Anakin again, but also trepidation for the news he brings, and no small amount of homesickness. No, that's not right. The Order isn't her home anymore. She forfeited that right; she has to stop thinking of it like that.

By the time she pulls her speeder in, outside her secluded little place, she's no calmer than before. If anything, she feels more keyed up. Not able to last any longer, she calls out to him as she dismantles her speeder, from outside the hut.]

Anakin. [Not "Master," not anymore. It still feels strange, to call him by his first name. But she manages. She tries to keep her voice light, joking.] I hope you haven't touched the holovids while you waited! They're on loan, you know.

[Then she opens the door.]

["Anakin." Not "Master." The moment he hears his name from her mouth, he can't help but feel as if he's failed yet again. Oh, this is a wound that has yet to heal. It's merely reopened now, and when all the pain fails to mend and go away, it all becomes one whole. He watches her as he turns, and she looks good. The simplicity of the surroundings suits her. He just wishes that she could live somewhere with simplicity and still train as a Jedi under him. After a few more years, he knows that she'd easily pass the tests as a Knight.

She might even manage it now with all that she's gone through. Her clear-headed decision to step away had been a wise one. It was made without impulse or passion. If he had been in her shoes (and he certainly feels as if he's in her shoes now), he knows he wouldn't have made it so calmly.

He knows of the future that Palpatine wants him to see: one where he doesn't have to hide anything with Padmé anymore. He can see it so clearly, with her stepping away from the senate while Palpatine takes complete control. Anakin has wanted that for a while: an executive voice to stop all the squabbling and ineffective politics. He hates their notion of "representing the voice of all," as it only leads to more pain and suffering. It also leads to nothing really getting done. His entire life has involved doing things and making them happen. Every day, he meets the same wall: one in which he can't act on his own discretion while the world around him remains in a perpetual stalemate.

And all of that excludes the part where the love of his life lives. He can see so much value in it.

While Anakin can see this being ... good for Ahsoka. Reluctantly. Oh so reluctantly, he can't help but feel as if it's a poor place for him to be. He doesn't know good. There are dark rings under his eyes, and they've been there for a while. The dreams never seem to leave him. He hates it. Hates that he can't just stop them from happening. How is he meant to avoid them at all?]

Hey, Snips. [He offers her a strained smile.] I wasn't here long enough to pick one I wanted to watch. Plus, I thought they might all be boring. [The playful tone that he's often had with her throughout the years returns, but it's strained, uneasy.

He isn't here just to check in. That much is clear.]

[As she closes the door behind her--]

Some of them are actually pretty educational. You might learn something--

[... "new," she'd been about to finish off with. But then her eyes adjust to the light inside the hut, and she sees Anakin properly for the first time in months. Her brows furrow immediately with concern.]

... Anakin? [Ahsoka pads over closer to him-- not as close as they once used to stand, but still close enough for friends.]

You look awful. [There's no point in beating around the bush about it. Not that Ahsoka has ever done that about anything.] What's wrong?

[Because something is wrong. She can sense it more keenly than ever, now.]

[It would be nice to be able to banter, to ask precisely what she thinks he could learn, but he finds his smile strained, barely in place by time she takes his measure. Anakin wishes he could offer something by way of reassurance, to tell her it's something else. And what if he did? What if he sat down and acted as if this was nothing? He could leave her to her peace here and return to Palpatine and tell Mace Windu everything.

He could, but he's foolish. He knows how little she's really going to relent. Throughout the years, she's had to do that a lot in his presence. There's little chance that he can fool her now.]

I believe I've identified the Sith Lord who's evaded us for so long. [These are similar to the words he might have said to Windu for a reason: it's like a script. Saying it out loud means something.]

It's Chancellor Palpatine. [Only out of some likely displaced sense of pride does he bring himself to look at her. He wants to show that he can handle this, but she knows his opinion on Palpatine. She knows that he's always been there for Anakin. And now, he's promised him the world, promised him everything—

Including the ability to hold on to all that he never wants to lose. The mere thought almost makes him tremble with discomfort, but he doesn't. No, there is simply a recurring sense of tension in his body.]

[A beat. Ahsoka's surprise and confusion is evident both in the Force and on her face; she momentarily forgets how to talk. She swallows.]

... What?

[Ahsoka was never as close with the Supreme Chancellor as Anakin-- and certainly, she had resented him more than a little during her trial. But she never thought of him as evil. He was the Chancellor. Her mind is reeling. How could--]

Anakin, that can't be right.

[No, that's only what she wants to believe-- she realises as soon as she says it. Anakin wouldn't be here if he didn't believe it one hundred percent. She regrets the statement instantly. The shocked expression on her face gives way to something else-- fear.]

... You're serious.

[If Anakin is right-- her brain connects the dots. Realising all the far reaching implications that has. An unpleasant feeling she can't quite identify yet knots itself in her stomach.]

[Frustration erupts inside of him when she suggests that he doesn't know what he's talking about here. Anakin has been wrong a lot lately, and he's never really known the exact tack to take on all of these situations. Does he tell the Jedi that they're essentially telling him to accept his wife's death? Does he tell Obi-Wan? Is Obi-Wan failing to fight the council because he doesn't trust him? Has he never really believed in him? Is he holding him back?

After a beat, before he responds, she goes on. She goes on, and he straightens, tension bleeding away from his body all at once.]

I wish I could say that I'm not right, Ahsoka. [There's a hint of lightness to his tone here, but there's so much fatigue behind it that he can't lean into it. He wants to. He wants to be the Anakin she knew most of the time, rather than the one that had been in pain.

(But when hasn't he been? Recently, it feels like it's all the time.)]

He offered to train me in the ways of the Force. To show me things that the Jedi Masters would never tell me. He—[It would be so easy to stop here, to tell her nothing more. Admitting that he's tempted frightens him. Admitting that what he wants is to prevent death is hard, so he stops short of that precise admission.]

Ahsoka, I want more. Is that so wrong?

["I want more." More what, she wonders? More power? Anakin is already the most powerful Jedi she's ever known. How could he possibly need more? Or does this have something to do with Padmé...? She doesn't really understand the jump in Anakin's thought process, but she goes quiet and thinks over his question seriously nonetheless. So many times, she had relied on him for his opinion, and now it seems the tables are turned. She doesn't know what he's looking for from her, but she owes it to him to give him a thoughtful answer.

Finally, slowly:]

... I don't think wanting more of anything is inherently wrong, on it's own. Normal people do that every day.

But... at the same time, it isn't the Jedi way, either, is it? What I'm saying is-- the question of whether it's right or wrong is irrelevant. Right, wrong, or neither... you can't have both.

No. It really isn't the Jedi way. [These words almost sound resolved. What does it mean to be a Jedi? What would it mean for him to finally cut himself loose? Obi-Wan had believed in him as the chosen one, and if he abandoned that, what would it mean for everyone? Then again, he doesn't want that, either. He doesn't want to be caught up in some ... in some ideal of what people want him to be. No one respects him. They're all holding him back.]

I've always wondered if I want too much. I know what I'm meant to do, but I can't bring myself to actually do it. If I give up on this, I'm afraid—[He breathes out a shaky sigh. No, there is no resolve here. It's clear that Anakin's mind is muddled, lacking any clarity or stability. The weight of his years of training is crushing him, and he can hardly breathe.

He sees one future, but worries that he can't bring it about. He sees another future, with Padmé, and feels certain.]

It would be a lie to say that I always wanted to be a Jedi. Long before you quit, I was resolved to do so. I didn't feel as if it was the place for me. I couldn't forget where I came from. [Ahsoka has seen many times that he still hasn't forgotten. He cannot be the ideal Jedi no matter how much power he has.]

Edited 2016-09-27 17:57 (UTC)

[Ahsoka, on the other hand, always wanted to be a Jedi. Still, in some small part of her, wishes that she could be one. That she can't bring herself to be a part of an Order that so clearly does not follow it's own Code is something she won't manage to find peace within herself about for many years yet.]

... I don't understand.

[Because she doesn't, not really-- though she's trying her best. She knows about Anakin's past, about his troubles letting go. But Anakin is talking around things rather than about them-- which isn't atypical for him, when there's something painful on the table. But what is atypical is seeing him so uncertain. The Anakin she knows has always been decisive, confident, sure of himself. It's a strange moment for Ahsoka-- realising that the adults in her life that she looks up to are sometimes just as uncertain as herself.

The really baffling thing, though, is that it seems Anakin's come to her of all people for advice. She knows why Anakin wouldn't go to any of the other Council Masters. But why not Obi-Wan? The two of them have always been inseparable, in her mind. And Obi-Wan surely has much more wisdom and experience than herself. But-- that doesn't matter, does it? Because he's here, anyway. So she has to try.]

... What is it that you think you're meant to do? ... And what do you want to do?

[Of course she doesn't understand. The muddled nature of his thoughts leads to him glaring at her, thoughts threatening to tear out of his throat. He can feel the anger within him, both at her and himself. Why is he angry with her? It's that which leads to his frustration with himself. Ahsoka has done nothing wrong here, and he's barely making any sense. He knows it.

If anything, that's part of why he's here instead of with Padmé.

And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, Anakin has come to view him as someone in favor of the Council instead of in favor of him. It's a problem, especially with his future seeming so ... nebulous.]

[Anakin's rush of anger doesn't leave him entirely, but it dies down somewhat. Then again, when is Anakin Skywalker without some rage, hidden and waiting to find itself erupting? Even when he's happiest, there are moments where he feels unstable, like he's holding on to something that can easily slip away from him in the blink of an eye.

Her words are good ones, and perhaps, they are the important ones. His entire life, he's been a slave to the Order: he's been their ideal of what a Jedi should be, while constantly being reminded of when and where he keeps failing. All along, he hasn't had the answers. And yes, he made some mistakes. He knows what they would think of Padmé. He isn't foolish. But then, when he looks at Padmé, he can't think of anything else he wants in the world.]

I've been having dreams, [he admits, the words spoken as if he's finally giving some solid answers.] Padmé dies in childbirth. Chancellor Palpatine—he told me he could teach me how to keep her from dying. Master Yoda told me to accept life or death, but if I'm as strong as they all say I am, why can't I access that side of the Force?

[He knows it's selfish to think that he can only save the woman closest to him, or at least the woman who's alive that's closest to him, but he can't help it. Yes, he wishes he could bring back all the clones they lost. He took their deaths in stride (as much as Anakin takes anything in stride), but it feels like this is just ...

It's asking too much of him.]

[There's a lot in there for Ahsoka to take in. Too much at once, it feels like. Anakin answers one thing, and a million more questions pop into her head at once. She doesn't even know where to start.

With the most logical first, perhaps, her brain thinks. With some trepidation:]

Anakin... wouldn't Senator Amidala have to be pregnant in order to die in childbirth?

["So the solution there is easy," she hopes to follow up with. "Don't get her pregnant."

Somehow though, something tells her she isn't going to be able to say those words next.]

[Place this high on the list of things that are Awkward to Discuss with Your Former Padawan. Anakin sobers surprisingly quickly with her question, eyebrows raising as if he only realizes the part he blatantly left out. If only it were that simple.

He had told Padmé that the news of their children coming was one of the greatest and happiest moments of his life. He hadn't been lying, but the creeping, uncomfortable fear in the back of his mind had always been there. It hasn't left him, not since that day. Not since before that day, as the dreams had begun long before he returned to Coruscant. (She thought him dead. Where would she be without him?)]

Heh, well ... [He doesn't quite shrug, but he is awkward. This is awkward.] She is pregnant. No one knows that I'm the father. [Unless they use their deductive reasoning skills, which people apparently never use in Star Wars Land until it's too late.]

... Oh Anakin ...

[There it is. The answer she somehow knew was going to come.

Her words are somehow vaguely reminiscent of Obi-Wan-- but she doesn't manage to inject into it any of the disappointment that Obi-Wan might. In contrast, she just sounds-- and feels, in the Force-- incredibly worried for him. And Padmé, as well.]

I wish you'd told me earlier. I understand why you didn't, but... well, it's weird if I say congratulations now. [When Padmé's life might be on the line.] ... I guess that explains the visions ...

But how does Chancellor Palpatine know...?

[How did he know? And why did he use that specific moment as the opportunity to reveal it to him? Anakin's thoughts are uncertain, but he turns away for a moment, staring off at the wall as he seeks out the answer. If he were able to meditate on it—but then, when has he ever been good at >meditating? The whole matter of being still has always haunted him when he could otherwise do things.]

He told me a story about an old Sith lord. ["When" would probably be a wise question here, but that would require a natural transition.

Anakin doesn't seem to favor those very much.]

He could stop the deaths of everyone around him. I didn't bother to conceal my thoughts about Padmé. Why would I? [And if he's trained in the Force, that says everything.

And confirms everything, too.]

... I see.

[The words are noncommittal, but it's clear from her tone that she's skeptical. If stopping death were possible, the Jedi would know about it, she thinks.]

Well, putting that aside for a second-- you know that almost nobody dies in childbirth these days, right? It's pretty rare. Especially in women who are otherwise healthy and have access to good medical facilities. So if you're getting visions about it happening to Padmé, there has to be a pretty specific reason.

Have you tried meditating on your vision? If you can find out why the birth goes wrong, you might be able to stop it from happening all together.

[Without resorting to anything drastic.

Meditating on unpleasant visions is hard. But that advice led to Ahsoka saving Padmé's life once. So why should it not work again?]

You sound like Master Yoda. [These words are not a compliment, and he's certain that she will recognize it as such. He stares at her for a long moment after speaking these words, in part because he's hurt. Anakin shouldn't lash out at her with words or otherwise, but he is too ... out of sorts to do anything else.

He makes a noncommittal sound before he goes on.] All I hear when I meditate is the voice of Obi-Wan. It's clear that I'm not there. And she's crying, like her life is passing from her and she can't hold on. [Anakin does his best to add some foundation to his voice to sound stronger.

He fails, instead verging on his tone quavering.]

[ She tries not to be offended by the remark; after all, the advice had originally come to her from Master Yoda, so the comparison isn't exactly unwarranted. ]

... What if we meditated on it together? Sometimes two minds are better than one. Let me help.

[Well ... that's an idea. And given that he can't meditate with Obi-Wan, there's some comfort in realizing that Ahsoka can help him. Being his padawan, she had been in the position to figure out some things, even if neither of them could really ... talk about it.]

That might not be a bad idea.

[Coming from Anakin, that's practically a compliment. She can't help but smile a little, despite the seriousness of the situation.]

Do you want me to light the candles...? I keep a few in the back, for just in case.

Edited 2016-10-05 18:29 (UTC)

[The most stubborn person alive is agreeing to do something he's bad at instead of making piss poor decisions. It's the highest of compliments.]

That sounds good. I'll just ... sit here. [Here being near the shelf he's by, where he pushes aside some of the holovids so that he can press up against it. Some part of him is still antsy, wanting to move (because he's always on the move), and he has his doubts.

But he came here for Ahsoka's help. They have to try to do what is ... sensible.

(Anakin Skywalker is also the least sensible person alive.)]

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