Chapter Text
Anakin Skywalker was not at all what she had expected.
This was Ahsoka's first thought when she caught sight of him, and it had her grappling for what, exactly, she had been expecting. Somebody older, maybe. Somebody who wasn't dressed like a servant, in a plain dark tunic and dusty boots that had clearly seen better days. Somebody who didn't look so incongruous in the middle of Padmé's penthouse, all but slouching next to Padmé herself, with all her lavish finery and elaborate hair.
And definitely not somebody whose Force presence almost made Ahsoka stumble in her tracks. Even from a distance, she could feel the raw power radiating from him in waves, the eerie way the Force enveloped him. It was nothing like she had ever sensed before: a persisting brightness that was almost blinding, even with its fraying, darkened edges.
Senator Skywalker stared at Ahsoka and Obi-Wan as they entered, face blank and immovable. He didn't say anything, just leaned back with his arms crossed as Padmé stood to greet them.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, my lady," Obi-Wan said, all formal and proper, like he wasn't greeting an old friend. Ahsoka would have rolled her eyes if Obi-Wan wouldn't somehow know she did it. Standing behind her Master, she settled instead for sharing an amused glance with Padmé.
"It has been far too long, Master Kenobi, Ahsoka," Padmé said, taking Obi-Wan's hand in her own as she beamed at them in turn. "How was the border dispute on Ansion?"
"You know us, Padmé," Ahsoka said, grinning. "It was nothing we couldn't handle."
Obi-Wan turned to her, a hand on his beard. "Careful, Ahsoka. Arrogance is not the Jedi way."
Her smile wavered, but Ahsoka refused to let it fall. She'd nail it to her face if she had to.
"Of course not, Master," she said lightly. "Me? Arrogant? Never."
Ahsoka felt a sudden tension pour outward into the Force—white hot anger, like she was standing too close to a roaring furnace—and she glanced again at the man on the sofa. Skywalker was glaring at them now, lip curled in disgust.
Padmé took a step back to the side, so that he could see Ahsoka and Obi-Wan fully.
"You remember Obi-Wan, don't you, Ani?" Padmé said, her mild, pleasant tone belying her narrowed eyes.
When Skywalker—Ani, because apparently this was an appropriate nickname for someone with such an intimidating glare—didn't say anything, Obi-Wan bowed and said, "It's good to see you as well, Senator Skywalker, though I think we all wish it was under better circumstances."
The look on Skywalker's face darkened even more. He stood, arms still crossed, and it wasn't hard to miss how he towered over everyone in the room.
Ahsoka didn't know much about the Senator from Tatooine, nothing beyond what she'd seen on the HoloNet and what she'd been told during her and Obi-Wan's briefing. That Skywalker was not much older than her. That he had been sixteen when he led the revolt against the Hutts. That he had been working to make Tatooine a part of the Republic ever since.
That he was dangerous and powerful and untrained.
Ahsoka had been doubtful when she had heard his list of accomplishments. It seemed impossible for one teenager to have done so much with so little—the Krayt Dragon of Tatooine, he was called, and she had thought it was such a silly, pompous name—but looking at him now, feeling the way the Force coiled and flowed around him, she found it wasn't hard to believe at all.
"Let's cut the small talk," Skywalker said. "I don't want you here anymore than you want to be here, so just find out who's trying to kill me and we can all be on our way."
A frown crossed Obi-Wan's face. In calm and deliberate tones, he said, "We're here to protect you, Senator, not to start an investigation."
"I don't need protection! I already told the Chancellor—I need answers. The last thing I want is a pair of overglorified bodyguards trailing after me."
"You need not worry about that. Our presence will be invisible—"
"That's not what I'm asking you to do!"
"Our mandate is to keep you safe, Senator. The Council's orders—"
Obi-Wan stopped abruptly. His face was a mask of blank politeness, but a wave of regret seeped out into the Force before he could clamp it down. Ahsoka wondered if Skywalker knew enough about the Force to notice it. Or maybe she was just imagining the sudden temperature drop in the room.
"Of course," sneered Skywalker. "The Council ordered it. And you've always followed their orders to the letter, haven't you, Obi-Wan? You haven't changed at all."
"You certainly have," Obi-Wan said coolly.
Around Skywalker, the Force crackled with resentment, a roiling mess of bitterness so strong that Ahsoka almost missed it: the ripple of guilt dwarfed by the tide, an eddy of regret flowing against the current. It was gone as quickly as it came, but it was there, and she knew it wasn't coming from Skywalker.
Ahsoka glanced at Obi-Wan. Not for the first time, her temper flared at how little she knew her Master, how tightly he gripped his secrets and kept her at arm's length. There was something she was missing, she could tell that much. Something that the Council hadn't told them—hadn't told her—before they were shooed off to this assignment.
Pursing her lips, Ahsoka met Skywalker's glare with her own.
"You're being really rude, considering you asked for our help," she said.
From the corner of her eye, Ahsoka saw Obi-Wan's lips tighten the way they always did when she dared to talk back to her so-called superiors. But it was too late to take back the words, and she'd never had patience for such things anyway.
"I asked for the Senate's help," Skywalker retorted. "Not the Jedi's. Clearly they don't know what they're doing, if they're sending a youngling as security—"
"I'm not a youngling. I'm fourteen—"
"Fourteen? Oh, that makes it so much better—"
"Listen, Skyguy, I'm—"
"What did you just call me?"
There was a sudden chuckle, badly disguised as a cough. Ahsoka turned and noticed for the first time a young blonde woman at the veranda, dressed in the same style as Skywalker. Her head was down, but Ahsoka could see her shoulders shaking slightly.
Skywalker must have seen her too, because his lips thinned as he inhaled slowly through his nose. If he was annoyed because of the woman's interruption, Ahsoka couldn't tell. The scowl on his face looked like it belonged there.
For a moment, it looked like Skywalker had calmed down and would let it go, but he continued, "Don't get snippy with me, little one. I don't care what you are—you're not old enough to be here."
Ahsoka opened her mouth, ready to retaliate, but Obi-Wan stopped her short.
"That's enough, Ahsoka! We're here to do as the Council instructed, not bicker like younglings. If you want to be treated like the Padawan you are, then you will act like it and learn your place. Is that clear?"
Her mouth snapped shut. Obi-Wan was scowling at her, and Ahsoka looked down at her feet, stung. Bad enough that he reprimanded her, but to be dressed down so publicly . . . with all these strangers, no doubt giving her odd looks . . .
Kriff, what was wrong with her? They had been here for five minutes, and she was already making a mess of their assignment before they had even begun. Some apprentice she was.
"Is that clear, Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan repeated.
Ahsoka closed her eyes and tried to give her shame and anger to the Force. When she opened them again, she bowed to Obi-Wan and hoped he couldn't see the hurt slipping through the cracks.
"Crystal, Master."
It wasn't the answer he was looking for, but it was all he was going to get from her. She didn't want to look at him yet, so she turned to scowl at that rude, arrogant, sorry excuse for a politician, who obviously started it—
But Skywalker wasn't glowering at her now. His features had softened, the tension around his eyes melting until Ahsoka thought he looked almost kind.
There was a long, awkward pause.
"Perhaps we should all sit down while I have Threepio get us refreshments?" Padmé said, her smile strained.
It was like someone flipped a switch in Skywalker's brain.
"Don't bother," Skywalker said, looking away from Ahsoka. The almost-kind look in his eyes was shuttered away, gone as if it had never been there at all. "If they're not here to investigate, then I don't see why they should stay."
"Anakin," Padmé began wearily, "you know the Chancellor wants—"
"I will get my answers, Padmé, with or without the Chancellor's approval."
And then, without giving them another glance, he stormed out. Almost immediately, in an instant that felt like an age, everything became strangely muted, and Ahsoka braced her feet on the floor, trying to steady herself. It was as though the world had gone quiet. As though a buzzing cacophony of noise that she hadn't realized was there had been suddenly silenced.
Did Obi-Wan feel it too? He was staring at the empty doorway with stony eyes, his jaw clenched.
"I'll go talk to him," the blonde woman offered, oblivious.
Padmé shook her head. "No, this was my idea. I should talk to him."
She gave them another strained smile before exiting the room. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan bowed as she left, but Padmé barely noticed as she hurried after Skywalker.
"That went well," Ahsoka muttered to the carpet.
Even without looking, she knew Obi-Wan had turned to her with that disapproving frown she knew all too well. It was, she was sure, nothing less than a permanent fixture whenever she was within hearing range. How else could she explain how often that look was directed at her? It was a constant of her apprenticeship, as much as his weary headshakes and resigned sighs.
"Skyguy?" Obi-Wan said, and Ahsoka tried not to wince. "That's hardly a proper way to address a senator."
"It's not like he was acting like one," she said. Her words sounded petulant even to her own ears.
"Regardless, he is part of the Senate. Whatever you think of him, we still have a job to do."
"Please don't judge him too harshly," the blonde woman interrupted them. "I know he can be difficult, but he has a lot on his mind."
Difficult wasn't the word Ahsoka would have used, but all right. To each her own.
Obi-Wan threw her a look of warning, as if he'd heard what Ahsoka was thinking. But it wasn't like she was going to say it aloud now and risk another reprimand. Even she knew better than that.
Really. She did.
"I'm sure he has," Obi-Wan said, smiling at the other woman kindly as she approached. "I'm afraid we haven't been introduced. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi—"
"Oh, I know who you are," the woman said, before turning to Ahsoka. "Not you though. I'm Beru Whitesun."
Her smile was small, but her eyes shone with a warmth that lit up her whole face. Ahsoka found it impossible not to smile back. "Ahsoka Tano. I'm Master Kenobi's Padawan learner."
Beru flinched. It was nothing dramatic, but it was too obvious to brush off.
"I know it doesn't mean the same thing to you as it does to us, but Anakin . . ." Beru hesitated. Her eyes seemed to fix, like she was looking at something that wasn't there. She shook her head and the gentle smile quickly returned. "Maybe it's best if you don't use the word master for a while."
"But—Obi-Wan is my teacher. What else am I supposed to call him?"
"Anything but that, if you want to get on Anakin's good side."
Ahsoka didn't particularly want to be on Anakin's good side—or any side of his at all, really—but she said nothing. She didn't see what the big deal was, but she was sure Obi-Wan would have her head if she pushed it further.
"You will help Ani, won't you?" Beru said to Obi-Wan. "He says he doesn't need it, but he does. He's in more danger than he wants to admit."
"We're here to help, I promise you," Obi-Wan assured her. He threw Ahsoka another look as he continued, "Ahsoka and I will do all we can to protect him."
"Even if it means helping him investigate?" At Obi-Wan's frown, Beru hastened to add, "I know it's not in your mandate, but Anakin meant what he said. He's going to do it himself if you don't."
"I'm afraid—"
"You don't understand—once Anakin sets his mind on something, there's no stopping him. It doesn't matter what you do, he'll run headfirst into danger anyway. So if you help Anakin investigate—isn't that in the interest of protecting him?"
Ahsoka could almost see the gears turning in Obi-Wan's head.
"We will do all we can to protect him," he repeated.
Ahsoka didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but Beru nodded, like his answer was satisfactory and not ridiculously vague.
"I'll have Threepio get us something to drink," Beru said. "Is there anything you want? Caf? Tea?"
"Tea would be lovely, thank you," Obi-Wan said, then bowed as Beru left.
It was just Ahsoka and Obi-Wan now. With nothing stopping her, she finally plopped down on the sofa, bouncing as she did. Obi-Wan stared hard at her again, before taking the seat next to her. Of course, he was much more dignified and elegant about it.
Spoilsport.
"Skyguy?" Obi-Wan said again. There might have been the suggestion of a smile under the beard, but it was hard to tell with him. Probably just a trick of the light, considering what he thought of her antics.
But Ahsoka smiled at him anyway. "His name's a bit of a mouthful, don't you think?"
She liked to think Obi-Wan found her amusing, even if that was just slightly better than barely tolerable. It was, at least, better than being seen as an inconvenience, never mind that her Master probably thought she was one anyway.
Skywalker certainly did, but who cared what he thought about her?
Not old enough to be here?
Oh, she'd show him. She would bite her tongue and bear it, if only to prove him wrong.