Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            Anakin strolled into the old warehouse. On the other side of the wall he could hear his agent, Ben, arguing with the studio owner, Plo. He rolled his eyes and sat down. It was the same old thing. “Are you kidding me, Plo? You can’t do this to me! We’re old friends, that’s got to count for something!” Ben was saying in his whiny, overdramatic voice. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

            “I’m sorry, Ben. But this is an opportunity of a lifetime for me and my business. I just can’t pass it up!” Plo replied, begging him to understand.

            “Well then, what are we supposed to do? I’m telling you; he has what it takes! He’s the next big thing in the model world. But he’ll never get his face out there, without a good portfolio. And a good portfolio requires a good photographer! You’re the best around, we need you!” his agent exclaimed.

            “Look, I’ll tell you what. I recently hired an intern from the high school down the street, she’s got a good eye. I’ll have her take the pictures and I’ll photoshop them later. They’ll have the Plo Koon seal of approval before they leave.”

            “A no-name? That’s suicide in this business, you know that!” It wouldn’t be long now before Ben was yelling. Anakin opened his eyes and looked around. Whatever his agent was negotiating, wasn’t going well. He hated politics, so he stayed out of it. Movement caught his eye and he stood up and headed in that direction.

            He watched as a young girl with reddish-brown, almost copper colored, skin, came out of the back room carrying a tripod in one hand and a light in the other. She was wearing a red crop top and cutoff jean shorts. She had bangles up and down her arms and around her ankles, and bare feet. There were white markings on her face that came down in a diamond shape, wove around her eyes in both directions and then a separate wing shape on her cheeks. She was too far away to tell if they were a tattoo or something she drew on with makeup. She had a nose ring and multiple piercings up and down her ears. The way they sparkled in the studio lights reminded him of constellations. But her most dramatic feature was her brightly colored blue and silvery-white hair, dyed in stripes that were not your common highlights. She was cute, in an eccentric kind of way, he smiled to himself. Ben may not think she’s worth much, but he wouldn’t mind working with her.

            “Ahsoka!” Plo called from his office, coming out into the open area with Ben on his heels. The girl that Anakin had been watching looked up from her task almost bored. His smile deepened. Her name was unusual, but it fit her. He liked it. “I have to go across town and take pictures of Miss Amidala’s new fashion line. I need you to do model portfolio shots for this young man,” Plo said, acknowledging Anakin for the first time. Her eyes followed where he pointed, widened just slightly when she saw he’d been watching her, but then returned to the owner and nodded. “Ben here, will tell you what he wants. Good luck!” he said a little strained and grabbed a bag of equipment before disappearing out the double doors. “Oh, and lock up when you’re done!” he shouted from outside. Anakin imagined he was now muttering to himself angrily. He resisted the urge to laugh. Ben had that effect on people.

            “Now listen here, girl…” his agent said to her. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m not happy about this arrangement. You’re going to take lots of pictures of my client in all different places and styles and hopefully in the next few days, there will be a handful that are worth keeping!”

            If Ahsoka was offended or bothered by what Ben was saying, she hid it well. Anakin had seen stronger people melt under his gaze. She was probably used to demanding people. That’s the kind of people you had to deal with in this business. He admired her backbone. Ben called him over to stand in the middle of the set and then began his extensive list of demands. She nodded thoughtfully then had the gall to shoo him out. He liked her already.

            “I’ll be back in a couple hours, Anakin,” Ben said to him. “We’ll go to the gym for your daily workout. Then you’ll need to go to bed early because we have a seven am appointment with the governor. He wants you to be the poster boy for his ‘fit for life’ program!” His agent gave one last glare at the girl and was gone.

            He sucked in a breath when she turned to look him up and down now that they were alone, then to his surprise, she picked up an old DustBuster and vacuumed the air around the space and him. “You’re messing up my hair!” he exclaimed trying to hold his carefully styled locks in place while she went around his head sucking up who knows what.

            “It looks better that way,” she spoke at last. She stopped in front of him.

            “What are you doing anyways?” he asked curiously.

            “Getting rid of the negative energy around you,” she said matter of factly, as if that was the most obvious answer. Then she glanced at the door, made a face and went back to setting up the light she’d been working on. He hiked an eyebrow at her and then blew air out his mouth. So, she was a little crazy…

            “Sick contacts,” he said trying to break the ice. Then cringed inwardly. There were plenty of things about her he could have complimented, why’d he start with that?

She turned and looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time, “I don’t wear contacts, this is my natural color.”

            “Oh, well…” he was a little flustered. “They’re a very beautiful shade of blue.”

            “Thank you,” she replied politely, but unimpressed. She studied his face, he squirmed internally. He couldn’t help but notice the bronze color of her lips. She was appealing, but a little over-confident for his taste.

            When she finished with the light, she turned her attention to him at last. He swallowed without thinking as she looked at him. She did circles around him and he shuffled his feet. As a model, he’d gotten used to being objectified, even sexualized, but the way her eyes scanned him, he felt as though she had X-ray vision. Like she could see right through him. Her intensity made him uncomfortable, but more than that, she didn’t speak.

            Behind her cool, calm and zero-fucks-given attitude, he could see pain in her, but she was still one of the most unreadable people he’d ever met. “How’d you get the scar?” she asked stopping in front of him finally.

            “You can see it?” he asked startled. “I thought my makeup artist did an incredible job covering it.”

            “They did but wipe it off.” She handed him a wet washcloth.

            “Are you sure?” he asked. “Models are supposed to be clean. No tats, no marks, nothing.”

She peered at him. “Do you want to be just another model, or do you want to stand out?”

            “Well whatever gets my career going. I confess that’s more Ben’s department.”

            “He was the one that wanted you to cover it?” she asked.

            “Yes,” he said. She clicked her tongue in response.

            “What do you want?”

            “I want to be an actor,” he confessed with a nervous laugh, certain she’d find his dream silly. But she didn’t laugh or even make a face.

            “Then you have to move people,” she replied, pointing to the washcloth in his hands. This might be crazy, but… he wiped the makeup off without any more questions.

            While he worked on his face, she went about moving lights and designing the scene. Then she took the washcloth from him and threw it to the side. “So? You never told me how you got it,” she said studying how well he cleaned it off.

            “A cat,” he replied. “Another modeling company was going to hire me, but the boss’s cat apparently didn’t like me. I had no idea that was a deal breaker.” She traced her finger down it softly. Her touch was surprisingly gentle. He watched her while she did so. Her white markings were a tattoo after all, he couldn’t see any makeup lines. She smelled sweet, like oranges. He liked it a lot. It wasn’t overpowering, but as distinctive as the rest of her. She definitely made a strong impression.

            “Ventress?” she asked with the first show of emotion since he arrived. She brushed his hair to the side just a fraction of an inch.

            “You’ve heard of her?”

            “She has quite the reputation. We get a lot of their cast offs. Bad for them, good for us.” She shrugged. Then to his surprise, she moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, then moved up to his chest. She then took a pen out of one of the two buns she had in her hair and marked two places on her arms. Was she measuring him? He’d never had a photographer do anything like this before. “When was the last time you had a decent meal?” she asked.

            “I had a good breakfast!” he said defensively.

            “The only one in a month?” she asked.

            “Of course not!” Why was she prying? She was supposed to just take pictures, why did she need to know all this personal stuff?

            As if knowing exactly what he was thinking, she commented, “to photograph someone and do them justice, you have to know them.”

            “Well maybe I don’t want you to know me, I just want you to take a damn picture!” he said harshly. He was getting tired of these games. Here he was feeling naked while he knew nothing at all about her.

            She stopped and looked at him. It felt almost like she was daring him to say it again. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t dare. “Take your shirt off,” she said and patted the backwards chair she’d put in the middle of a black back drop. She went around adjusting the lights. Until it was relatively dark in the studio.

            He sat on the chair, one leg on each side, with just his jeans on, facing the camera. She moved around using her fingers as a frame and then stopped suddenly in one spot and moved the camera tripod there. He clearly didn’t understand artists, because he had no idea what she was doing. Once she was in position with the camera ready, he waited for her to take it, but she didn’t. “Put your left hand on your right shoulder, your right hand on your left shoulder and rest your elbows on the back of the chair.” He did what she said, wondering why she made him take his shirt off just to cover up exactly what removing it would show. “What’s the saddest thing that’s ever happened to you?”

            He looked up at her as though she punched him in the gut and heard the camera click. He stood up suddenly annoyed. "What are you playing at?” he demanded. “Are you enjoying this?” She looked at him blankly as though she had no idea what he was talking about. Which only served to increase his anger.

            He was just about to grab his shirt and storm out when she said quietly, “I’m sorry about your mother.” He stopped in his tracks.

            “How?” He was so shocked he couldn’t move.

            “Eyes talk, I listen,” she said. Then turned around and sat down in the chair he’d just vacated. He looked at her trying to decide if she was being serious. “I was taken from my parents as a child. Enrolled in a school for gifted children. Which as you probably know, is the politically correct term for mentally ill.” She sighed and dropped her head in her hands. “People don’t like me; people don’t understand me. And I don’t really care. But… I was tired of feeling like I was the only one that carried pain no one could see. I started going to the park and watching them, trying to draw out their pain. Seeing their pain, healed my own. I didn’t feel so alone.”

            He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt sorry for her. Except that in a way, she was right; seeing someone else’s pain makes your own hurt less. And though he was still angry for how she’d gone about drawing his out, he did feel lighter sharing it with someone else. At least knowing someone else saw it.

            Part of him wanted to reach out and take her hand, but before he made up his mind to do it, she stood up. “Come look,” she said and took the memory card out of the camera and popped it in the laptop. Then opened the picture to show him. His jaw dropped. He’d never paid much attention to what made a good photograph, but he’d never been so rocked by one before. She’d taken a single black and white picture that showed only his bare skin. Everything else blended into the background. Your eyes snapped right to his elbows and then followed his arms up to the most intense eyes. The emotion showing was so raw that you’re instantly captivated by the depth of the person sitting there. And even though she’d invoked such deep pain in him, he almost didn’t recognize himself. “What do you think?” she asked, looking up at him expectantly.

            His mouth worked for a few moments before words came to him. “You moved me,” he said at last. She grinned at him and he sighed. She was weird, there was no question. But she was onto something. This portfolio was going to be unique. He shouldn’t have been surprised that in this picture, his scar being visible, didn’t bother him at all. Here he’d been going around ashamed of it, feeling as though it would always be a disability in his career, but in one shot, she had made it a statement of who he was as a person. Dramatically emphasizing it as part of what made him. And no matter how strange she’d gone about doing it, he knew he could trust her completely.

            He dropped his shirt again and gave her permission to keep going. She didn’t talk much but worked much the same process throughout the session. She’d position him, find the right angle and snap a single picture after invoking a certain emotion. He didn’t really notice the passage of time, because he enjoyed watching her work. She often had a pen or lens cap, or sometimes her tongue, sticking out the side of her mouth as she concentrated on finding those perfect shots. The more he watched, the more fascinating she became. He found an odd comfort in the soft jingling sound her bangles made. He admired the lightness of her steps, the deliberate positioning, even the way she studied him. He was falling in love with that moment she found the perfect shot, because her blue eyes would light up and sparkle. But his favorite part was when her hands would brush his bare skin as she positioned him, leaving a trail of citrus teasing his senses. He was realizing it wasn’t just his sense of smell that was reacting. It was like he could feel her in the air around him. She radiated warmth, a kind of energy that left his skin buzzing long after the touch faded. It was like she was electric. He’d never met anyone quite like her before. He wasn’t here to fall in love… but… he just might be falling.

            “Time for a break!” she exclaimed out of the blue. He hadn’t realized how tired he was just modeling. It was probably the emotional rollercoaster she’d put him on since they started. He glanced at the clock; Ben would be back in half an hour. He wished he didn’t have to leave. “There’s food in the kitchen that way.” She pointed past his nose. “And bathrooms are out the door and around the building to your right.” He felt a little like he’d been dismissed.

            He pulled his shirt back on and headed towards the kitchen, but then decided he wanted a smoke before his agent returned and lectured him. He also thought it might calm the rush of feelings she’d ignited this afternoon. By far, this was the weirdest modeling session ever, but one he’d definitely never forget. He stopped a few feet away from the door and lit his cigarette. Then he wandered back behind the old warehouse and stared at the water. Across the river was Manhattan, a constant buzz of activity. This was a more run-down part of town, but from what he’d heard, Plo was a renowned photographer, so maybe he just liked the space. Space was hard to come by in New York, that was for sure.

            He absentmindedly puffed his cigarette while watching the boats go by and then he started heading back to the door. He wished he knew why Ahsoka was so appealing to him. She wasn’t his type at all. He’d always gone for girls with fairer skin and brown hair. Ones that were classy and rich. But there was something about this one, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

            He looked up and saw her walking towards him. He forgot about his smoke for a moment as he watched her. She was graceful. Every movement had a purpose. She seemed to have a gait as distinctive as the rest of her. She reminded him of a cat… and as he thought about it… like one stalking prey.

            In one movement, she reached up and plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, took a puff of it, blew it back in his face and then dropped it on the ground and stamped it out with her bare foot. “Hey!” he said, recovering from the initial shock of what she’d just done. “I was going to finish that!” He pulled out another and stuck it in his mouth. She made a face at him, scrunching up the white markings.

            “Smoking is bad for you,” she said simply and turned to walk inside. He stared after her, eyes lingering in that direction long after she disappeared, unlit cigarette, still in his mouth. He brought his lighter up and ignited it, but then clicked it off and threw the cigarette away. What was wrong with him? For a girl of so few words, she had him wrapped around her finger already.

            He went inside not feeling much calmer. But he’d pretty much decided that would be the state of affairs when she was around. She was sitting in front of the laptop studying the pictures she’d taken. He walked over to her and put his hands on the back of the chair, looking over her at the screen. Before he could stop himself, he rested his chin on the top of her head and inhaled. Were they close enough to do that already? She seemed to know every in and out of him, but she was a mystery. If she didn’t like him that close, she didn’t say anything. He was surprised by the softness of her hair. He’d expected it to be rougher and more wiry since she had darker skin. He ran his fingers through the back of it, loving the silky feel and the way it would spring back up in curls when he let go.

            “What are you?” he asked, feeling like an idiot. There was nothing normal about her, but that was a dumb way to ask for more information.

            “I don’t know,” she said, and at first, he felt as though she was trying to end that line of questioning. But then he remembered what she’d said earlier about being taken from her parents. So how would she know? He had endless questions, but he stood up straight and let go of her when he heard the door to the studio open. He spun around to see his agent walk inside.

            “I guess we’re done today,” he whispered.

            “Yep,” was all she said. She hadn’t even looked up.

            “Please tell me there might be a shot or two we can use?” Ben said joining them at the computer. Ahsoka snapped the laptop shut so he couldn’t see the pictures.

            “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Anakin replied stepping between them.

            “I hope so,” Ben said turning away, mumbling something to himself about how stressful all of this was for him. Anakin just rolled his eyes and glanced at Ahsoka. She’d resumed her deadpan attitude as she stared at his agent’s back. He wasn’t sure why he had the strong impression that if Ben got too close to her, she’d bite. But he decided not to test his theory and went about pushing him out the door. He glanced over his shoulder at her and saw that she was standing with one hand up in a wave. She suddenly looked so sad though as though she’d actually miss him. The truth was, he’d miss her too, even if he knew he’d see her again tomorrow.

Chapter Text

            “Master Skywalker!” Plo said as Anakin entered the studio the following day. “It’s good to see you again. I apologize for yesterday; it all came up so fast and I had to cancel a bunch of appointments and…” He kept going, but Anakin was only vaguely paying attention. He reached out to shake his hand.

            Ahsoka had come out of the back room when Plo had announced him and his eyes had snapped to her. Today she was wearing a long flowing skirt with a vibrant pattern across it. A small, spaghetti strap white blouse that cinched up in the front. Her wild hair was twisted back in multiple braids, and the sight of her had made him catch his breath. She smiled shyly at him from across the room and Anakin had completely lost track of what Plo had been saying.

            She slowly made her way to where they were standing and when the studio owner noticed she was there, he put his hands on her shoulders like a father might a child. “As I was saying,” he went on, it took a lot of force to focus on the veteran photographer now that she was standing so close to him again. “I’m going to be out of town for a week, so you’ll be having another session with Ahsoka, here. I hope that’s okay.” He patted her affectionately on the shoulder. She looked up at Anakin with big blue eyes, as if she was afraid, he’d reject her or refuse to work with her again.

            He smiled at her, “well, we did just fine yesterday. I’m sure we’ll survive again.” He watched as a deep smile spread across her face.

            “Very good,” Plo said, relieved. “You know, I wouldn’t have hired her if I didn’t think she had talent. I feel quite comfortable leaving you in her care.” She looked up at him appreciatively. Anakin was glad to see that he seemed to recognize she had a gift, though he strongly suspected Plo didn’t know the depth of it. At least she wasn’t an underappreciated assistant around the studio. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. Alright Ahsoka, you know the drill. See you in a week.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek and then headed out the door. They were alone again.

            For a few moments, they just stared at each other, unsure of what to say. Then she reached out a jewelry laden arm and took his hand. “Follow me!” she said with a sing-song voice. He didn’t have much choice in the matter, she had quite a grip. She led him to the kitchen and picked up a small bag up and handed it to him. She then jumped up, so she was sitting on the counter in front of him. “I got you a donut!” she exclaimed happily. “It took a long time though. The first one I saw had too many sprinkles, the second one had too much frosting. I didn’t think you’d like the third one. One was a weird shape; another had a funny smell. But then I found the perfect one. I just knew you’d be a maple bar fan!” He looked at her as she grinned at him so sweetly. His lip trembled as he realized the amount of effort she went to just to get him a donut. She was looking so proud of herself, waiting for him to eat it and enjoy it like she really believed he would.

            He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he took a bite. Making sure to sound like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. Then he swallowed, hoping that would be enough, but no… she was watching him like a hawk. She wanted to be sure he savored every bite. It was a bit unnerving to be watched like that while he ate. Finally, he broke it in half and gave her part of it. That distracted her a bit while he struggled to finish the piece he had.

            When he’d finally swallowed the last bite, she asked him if it was good. He nodded but then excused himself to go to the restroom. He tried to look like nothing was wrong all the way out the door, but then he ran around the building to the restroom and threw it up in the toilet. He took longer than normal to recover from an episode, because he felt so guilty. After washing out his mouth and cleaning off his face, he looked at himself in the mirror. Pinching his sides, feeling so fat. He was going to have to make some excuse to her so she wouldn’t buy him more food.

            He pulled himself together and walked outside right into her. She looked up at him with concern. “Are you allergic?” she asked worriedly. “I knew I should have gotten the gluten free kind!” His heart sunk. How could he explain to her that she’d done nothing wrong? She was pacing now and muttering to herself like she was trying to solve a complex equation.

            “Ahsoka,” he said softly, but she didn’t seem to hear him. “Ahsoka!” he said louder, reaching out to take her shoulders. She started as if she’d momentarily forgotten he was there. Her bright blue eyes were wide. He let go of her, and she relaxed slightly. “I’m not allergic. The donut was delicious!”

            “Then why did you…” she trailed off after glancing at the bathroom door behind him. “You’re bulimic?” How did she keep doing that?

            “No, of course not.” He shuffled his feet. “It’s just hard for me to keep food down.” He had a hard time avoiding her eyes. To his surprise she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He’d tensed at first, because it hadn’t been the reaction he’d expected. Then he reached around and hugged her back. His fingers played with the braids in her hair, one was tightly wound, the others were bigger and looser. She didn’t let go for a long time. He nuzzled the side of her face. She felt good in his arms. And at one point, he could’ve sworn she was trying to pull out his pain and take it on herself. It reminded him of what she’d said yesterday about drawing out people’s pain. That’s not what he thought she’d meant.

            Only when she looked up at him did he realize she’d been crying. Why was she so upset about his problem? “If a photographer is worth anything, a model would never need to change to look good,” she whispered. Even though she’d spoken softly, the words hit him so hard she might as well have punched him. Now tears were rolling down his cheek. He hated being vulnerable. He hated showing emotions! But somehow this wild girl was drawing it out of him in many different ways. Some to capture on film, some to save.

            They walked back inside arm in arm. They didn’t really talk much as they got back into the groove for the modeling session. But she did explain to him that today he was going to talk with his body not his eyes. He wasn’t exactly sure what that would entail, but at this point, he knew better than to question her. He’d never been afraid to show off his body before, but now that she knew one of his deepest secrets, he found himself really nervous. Especially now that she was going to focus on the very thing he was never satisfied with; the way he looked.

            “How old are you, anyways?” he asked as he watched her move lights and cameras around.

            “Eighteen,” she said simply.

            “You seem older than that. You know so much about people,” he said.

She stopped for a moment and looked at him. “I watch. I don’t talk well. So, I learn through observation,"

            “You talk just fine to me,” he said with a shrug.

            “I like you,” she replied and went back to her task. He felt a little fuzzy as he thought about what she said. He’d been kind of noticing her reactions to different people when they came in the room. It was as if certain behaviors people displayed drew out different parts of her personality. She’d said she was taken to a school for being mentally ill, but he didn’t see anything wrong with her. She was eccentric, had a unique style and an occasional oddball reaction to stuff, but that’s just how people were. She’d seemed a little crazy when they first started, but now that he thought about it, that was only because he’d never met someone so unique.

            New York was the fashion capital of the United States. Everyone was trying to outdo each other and trying to race to become the next big thing. So, designers would establish a trademark “look” so-to-speak, and that would become their signature style. Usually getting more and more ridiculous from there. To the point that being unique was not really unique anymore. But Ahsoka, though having her own distinctive style, wasn’t like those people. It wasn’t about the way she looked. Her artsy appearance was just an outward expression of the colorful world in her head. All of it was just part of her. It wasn’t to impress people, or to capture attention. It was as if she was in tune with her own soul and made her appearance match it. Though she’d looked amazing both days he’d known her, he felt that she put little thought into her look, she just did whatever struck her fancy.

            In a world of fake people trying to sell themselves to the people, she was refreshing. There was nothing misleading or manipulative about her looks or behavior, she just was who she was. And he liked her for that. And bummed that others couldn’t.

            “So are you and mister Plo a…” he trailed off. He hoped she’d figure out what he was implying because it was too weird to say it out loud. Plo had been very affectionate to her, which on the one hand he’d appreciated but he also wasn’t sure why he would kiss his employee even if it was just on the cheek.

            She looked up at him. “He’s like a father to me,” she replied simply. He blew out the breath he’d been holding. “Are you jealous?” she asked with a mischievous look.

            “What? No…” he tried to sound convincing. “I just wondered how you two… got to know each other, I guess.”

            “Mister Plo does a lot of charity work, often coming to my school and teaching kids photography. I showed him some of my pictures and when I was old enough, he hired me. He said I had a gift. I told him, well yeah, that’s how I ended up at a school for gifted children. I remember he smiled, but it was a sad smile. I don’t know why he was so sad.”

            Anakin knew why, he felt the pain in his chest, but did his best not to show it. He felt sorry for her. He missed his mother daily, but he could never imagine her not wanting him. To send your child away to a school where they learn they’re not the same as the rest of the kids, and not in a good way either… he couldn’t even imagine. Though Ahsoka had made it sound just now that she didn’t understand, he was certain she did. She knew exactly what situation she’d been thrown into. He was grateful someone at least had recognized her potential and given her a chance. Social skills could be learned, but purpose… purpose had to be supported and nurtured.

            For the better part of the afternoon, Ahsoka went about positioning him and taking pictures. He didn’t understand the vision she had, but she was quite particular. Often moving one of his arms or angling him mere fractions. Sometimes she’d have him switch out outfits, mumbling to herself that they were too ‘expected’ and there was nothing interesting about them. But that she could make do. He liked watching her work, though he had so many questions for her, the silence was comfortable. He felt a certain kind of intimacy with her that they didn’t need to speak. He thought about how she’d said she would be having him 'talk with his body’ today.

            “So, what messages are you having my body say?” he asked finally.

            “Nothing it doesn’t already,” she answered vaguely. That made him nervous.

            After a couple more shots, she looked up at the clock. It was well past six, which was when the studio technically closed for the day. He wondered if she was going to call it quits. He didn’t have anywhere to be tonight. Ben had meetings all day, so he’d driven here himself. He enjoyed her company though and wanted to invite her out, but he wasn’t sure if she’d be comfortable with that.

            “I need to lock up,” she said. He didn’t hide his disappointment quick enough, “but we can keep going, if you want.”

            He smiled. “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

            She looked a little shy for a moment and then went around locking the doors and closing curtains. He sat down on a couch in a nearby set and thought about their time together. He felt like he didn’t know much about her, and yet, he was totally comfortable with her. He’d bared more of his soul to her in the last two days, then he ever had before, to anyone. He knew the pictures would be worth it, but at the same time, they scared him. What was she going to tell the world about him through them?

            “I know you don’t eat much,” came her voice from the kitchen, “but I have a tuna sandwich if you’re hungry?” He got up and made his way towards her.

            “That sounds good,” he replied. She smiled and put the sandwich on a plate, flipping off the top piece of bread and handing him a spoon. He couldn’t help but wonder if she knew other people that struggled with bulimia. She poured him a glass of water and then grabbed her own sandwich and sat down across from him at the table.

He watched her while he nibbled at his sandwich. It tasted surprisingly good. It was hard for him to enjoy food much anymore; the taste was always acidic or chalky to him. He knew that was because he’d throw a lot of it back up, but it only perpetuated the problem. If it didn’t taste good, it was harder to keep down.

            “I trust your vision and all,” he started, “but I admit I can’t see exactly what you’re doing or how it works.”

            “I’m not sure how to explain it,” she said. “I make observations and they help me to know which way to pose someone to send a certain message. It’s almost as if the body speaks to me.” She looked embarrassed suddenly, “I know that sounds crazy.”

            “No, it doesn’t,” he said calmly, reaching out and taking her hand across the table. “Please, continue.” He nodded encouragingly at her. She looked a little dumbstruck by his touch but didn’t pull away.

            She glanced around nervously at first, but then she did go on, “when I meet people, I don’t always understand what they’re saying. It’s not easy for me to take verbal clues, like tone of voice. But if I watch their body movements; their gestures, posture, the way they turn or move or point… I understand better then. It makes people uncomfortable though, to find me staring. They don’t get that I need those visual clues. I can’t talk on the phone.” She trembled suddenly. “Everyone sounds mean on the phone,"

            He found himself rubbing his thumb in little circles on the back of her hand. It was hard for him to imagine what that must be like. How people take so for granted verbal communication; the audacity to assume that people of any culture or ethnicity would automatically know just what anything they say means. To look at someone like Ahsoka, who regardless of her background, struggles to communicate in conventional ways and to know that people dismiss her simply because she communicates differently… well it bothered him to say the least. He’d thought she was strange at first, because he hadn’t understood. But at least he’d wanted to.

            They finished eating and went back to the set. "Have you ever considered modeling?” he asked her.

            “I like being behind the camera,” she said quietly. He understood what she was really saying.

            “I want to take pictures of you,” he persisted though, trying to push her past her comfort zone.

            “Why?” She looked fearful, but he had to keep going. After everything she’d put him through, he wanted to look at her the way she’d been looking at him.

            “Because to me, you’re a work of art,” he said huskily. She looked genuinely surprised, but then she smiled and looked down shyly. “Give me a chance behind the camera, we can delete them later if you want.”

            She hesitated but finally agreed. He was certain no picture would do her justice, but he wanted to try. She showed him a few tricks to the camera and then stood nervously in the middle of the set. He could read her discomfort like a book. He snapped a couple shots, but she couldn’t relax. He would have to try a different approach.

            For him, she’d invoked emotions, but he was afraid he’d push her too far if he tried that. "Wait here,” he said and went scouring around the studio. After searching for a few minutes, he found the perfect thing. She looked nervous when he returned. He set up a couple of fans around the set and turned them on. She laughed as the air blew her hair into her face. “Turn around,” he said, directing her to turn her back to the camera. He positioned himself with the camera near one of the fans. “Okay, on the count of three, spin around.” She shrugged her shoulders. “One… two… three!”

            As soon as she started spinning, he threw a handful of multicolored glitter in front of the fan and snapped a bunch of pictures. The way her face had alighted in genuine surprise and joy, until she melted into giggles dancing around under the stream of color, had made his heart feel like it would burst. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful. She stared at him wild-eyed. He grinned at her. She ran to the side and turned on a stereo player with an old record and then pulled him away from the camera to dance with her to the music.

            When the record finally stopped, they collapsed onto the ground laughing and breathing heavy while staring at the ceiling.

            “Thank you,” she said turning to kiss him on the cheek.

            “You’re welcome,” he replied sincerely. They fell silent again but continued to lay there.

            “Have you ever considered doing nude photography?” she whispered after a while. He turned to look at her profile in the dim lighting. She was still looking up at the ceiling, but he could make out a soft smile on her lips. The white markings on her face, seemed to glow a little.

            “I think I always knew I’d have to someday, but I never gave it much thought,” he answered finally.

            “I could do it for you,” she whispered again. “If you trust me.”

            Of course he trusted her. “Okay,” he said finally.

            “You know,” she said still not looking at him. “Even though you were afraid earlier, I was helping you. You want to become an actor, right? Well acting is more than reciting lines. Your body has to act too.” He was touched that she even remembered his offhanded dream. He rolled to the side, looking her up and down.

            “How does my body act around you?” he breathed. He saw her blush even in the darkened room.

            “Nicely,” she said. It wasn’t exactly what he hoped to hear, but he realized the impact of what she meant.

Chapter Text

            “You’re ashamed of your body,” she breathed as she helped him remove his shirt. He swallowed hard, trying not to seem too eager or nervous. Was it his imagination or were her hands lingering on his skin longer than before? She moved around him, tracing the lightest touch across him, sending chills down his spine. “You work hard to make it look a certain way.” Her voice was sultry. “But you’re never satisfied by the results.” She unbuttoned his pants. But before she went further, she disappeared into the back room, leaving him hanging there, trying not to pant.

            She came back out a moment later with a long piece of black fabric. “What’s that for?” he asked.

            “I’m going to teach you a new way to see,” she said, then took the fabric she was holding and flattened it across his eyes, tying it behind him as a blindfold. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he was resisting the urge, for now. She touched a finger to his lips. Running it down his throat and then from his chest to the waist of his jeans. “Are you ready?” she asked. He could only nod.

            He felt her move away from him, even through the blindfold could tell she was adjusting lights again. “Okay,” she said quietly. He removed his pants and threw them to the side. He stood there awkwardly, feeling more uncomfortable blindfolded, but then he heard soft music start playing and he relaxed a little. “Where am I?” she asked. He turned towards the sound of her voice. “Use your senses, not your hands.” He dropped them back to his sides.

            At first, he didn’t understand, but then as he took a deep breath, he swore he could ‘see’ her in the air to his right. He became aware of her heartbeat as if it was amplified in his ears. He smelled the sweet citrus scent as it drifted past his nose. He felt the electricity that she gave off, even though she wasn’t touching him. How had she shifted his perspective? He heard the camera click as he moved in response to these newly found senses. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or even that he was posing. But she must have seen something worth taking a picture of.

            He felt her move to another position and instinctively turned his body to follow her. Why was he suddenly sure she was smiling?

            “When you stop thinking,” she whispered, “you can see what’s real.” He reached out and caught her hand where he knew it would be. He let himself melt into the softness of her skin, as he pulled her close to him. She rested her face on his chest.

            “But I want to see you,” he said huskily. She stopped his hand from removing the blindfold.

            “Then look with your soul.” He touched the side of her face and she leaned into his hand. Her hands slid down his torso. He couldn’t resist his arousal this time. She took the hand that was on her face, lifted it above her head and spun around under his arm as if they were still dancing. He felt the lights change in the room, heard another camera click as he reached out for her again. His head followed the soft jingling sound of her bangles as he imagined her twirling around the room. He smiled at the thought. He didn’t have to be looking at her to know she was beautiful or to see her grace. Even with his eyes closed she was like a beacon of light and a burst of color.

            She was in his arms again. He felt her exposed skin as she moved his arm around her back. She faced the opposite direction as him; her arm rested across his abdomen. He turned his face towards her, knowing with certainty, she was looking up at him too. He felt the camera flash.

            Then he felt her hands on his face, pushing the blindfold up and tossing it to the side. He was mesmerized by the look in her eyes. They glittered as if made of millions of stars. He caught his breath. She smiled up at him, giving her permission.

            He brushed the strand of hair to the side, lips meeting hers. They were even softer than he expected as he tasted her. She responded easily and they fell into each other like they were a matching pair. He ran his fingers through her hair, messing up her braids, but she didn’t seem to mind. He slid his hands down to her shoulders, then up her arms as she lifted them around his neck. He pulled her closer as he hungrily went deeper; maximizing the amount of her skin pressed against his own.

            He couldn’t get enough of the way she felt in his arms and against his lips. He wanted to explore every inch of her, but he also didn’t want to scare her with his intensity. The lamps she’d set up cast an occasional green and then blue color across the set. He brought his lips down to her neck and kissed along her collarbone. She dug into his back as they found her breasts. She threw her head back and laughed. Every so often he’d hear the distinctive click of the camera, but he was too lost in her to care.

            He let his hands slide down to her butt, squeezing it, while she did her own explorations. As he moved lower, she moved her hands into his hair, rubbing her fingers through it. He loved the way she felt. Every part of her was unique and perfect.

            She laid back against the cloth underneath them and he moved over top her. He noticed the way the light would make the glitter from earlier sparkle. There was a lot of it in her hair and all over her skin. Probably all over him as well. It made her look like a diamond as the light played off the tiny pieces. Everything about her presence was magical as he breathed her in.

            She spread her legs and let him in, trembling and arching into his tongue and movements. He saw her bite her bottom lip, sighing happily. He kept going, enjoying her moans as she shuddered in pleasure. He kissed her thighs and up around her navel, that was pierced too. Then trailed his kisses back up to her breasts and her neck and her lips. He pulled back to stare at her longingly.

            “Are you sure?” he breathed, watching her eyes. He didn’t want to coerce her into anything she wasn’t certain about. Though she’d been responding happily to his touches, he felt a little like he was taking advantage of her. She touched the side of his face, moving her fingers up to brush his matted hair to the side. Her touch sent electricity through him, if she didn’t answer soon, he might not be able to stop himself. She studied his eyes, a soft smile on her lips.

            After what seemed like an agonizingly long time, she finally responded, “I trust you.” That was all it took. He moved into her, slowly at first, being careful not to hurt her. She tipped her head back and arched her back. “Mmmm…” she moaned as he pushed harder, she relaxed into him as he opened her up. Her hands danced across his shoulders as her eyes closed in pleasure. “Aahh!” she cried when he went deeper. Grabbing him around the waist and molding herself to his body. He dropped to his elbows, licking her skin as he thrust into her over and over again. Groaning in response to her own touches.

            Every noise became part of their soundtrack and he’d never before been so moved by a song. He let every sense add to the music, wanting to savor every bar. She felt so good in his arms and against his skin, he knew she’d always be part of his soul. Would he be as unforgettable as her?

            He felt her release and he pulled out following her shortly. He was breathing raggedly as he gazed down at her dreamy expression. He was exhausted and spent, but he wanted to memorize every detail before he collapsed to the side, resting his arm across her chest. She pulled it up, so it sat over her heart. He smiled, laying there next to her. Breathing her in like she was his oxygen. There was nowhere he’d rather be right then. Her arm that he was resting on moved to play with his hair. Stroking it softly, he loved every touch. He felt her turn her head and kiss his forehead. Her fingers moved to his back, drawing patterns lightly on his skin.

            “Hey Skyguy,” she whispered.

            “Hmmm?” was all he managed as a reply.

            “Want to go stargazing?” she asked.

            “I’m already gazing at the brightest one,” he murmured. She giggled. He loved the sound of her laughter.

            “I’ll try not to outshine them! Come on!”

            Too late. He thought to himself. Sighing, he rolled to the side so she could get up. He couldn’t help but watch her as she got dressed. He wasn’t in a hurry to move. She shut down all the lights and turned off the camera.

            “I’ll meet you outside!” she exclaimed, running out the door. He reluctantly got to his feet and pulled his clothes back on. They’d made quite a mess. Maybe he’d come help her clean it up in the morning.

            He grabbed his wallet and his keys and met her outside. She locked the door behind him. He could still see glitter in her hair, no doubt he was covered in it too. He opened the door to his car for her, then they drove for a while out of town, pulling off into a field away from the city lights. It was one of his favorite places to go when he was missing his mother. It seemed only fitting to share it with her. They both climbed onto the hood of the car and watched the stars while holding hands.

Chapter Text

            Anakin arrived at the studio first thing in the morning. Even though Mister Plo was supposed to be out of town for a week, he didn’t want Ahsoka to get in trouble for the mess they’d made the night before, in the off chance that the studio owner returned early. But when he walked inside, everything was back in their respective places. Apparently, she’d cleaned before he got there.

            His eyes snapped to the laptop on a desk near the door. There was an image up on it, he had to move closer to get a good look. His jaw dropped when he saw it. It was another black and white photograph, but it was of the two of them. Her back was to the camera, he was facing it. They were both completely naked, except for he was wearing the black blindfold and she was wearing a white one. His arm was across her back, hers across his stomach and they were looking at each other. Well, their faces were pointed at each other anyways. But even with the blindfolds, you could swear they were really lost in each other’s eyes. Her talent was pure magic. Somehow, she had perfectly, without any rehearsal, or any certainty of how he’d respond, captured a perfect yin-yang. Her dark skin with a light background, his light skin with a dark background.

            The picture left him breathless. It was the kind you’d make a huge print of to hang on a wall as expensive art. Not at all what you’d expect in a no-name model’s portfolio. She truly had a gift.

            “Good morning, Skyguy,” she said, coming out of the kitchen holding a blue mug with gold sparkles. Today she wore a plunge front burgundy romper with white pompoms around the hems and an oversized chunky grey sweater that was longer than the shorts. She had her hair braided and wrapped back in a big, loose ponytail and she wore a tiara of silver, gold and bronze feathers and little circular gems. In her ears were long colorful feather earrings that brushed along her shoulders and gladiator sandals that laced up to her knees.

            “Good morning!” he replied with a smile. She sure knew how to light up a room. And he didn’t just mean on the set. He wasn’t sure where his nickname came from, but he loved the way it sounded when it left her lips. He’d have to think of one for her.

            “Do you like the picture?” she asked. Like it? He loved it. It was incredible.

            “It’s unbelievable,” he said, reaching for her. She let him take her in his arms.

            “You can use it for your portfolio,” she said softly. He knew instinctively how hard of a decision that must have been for her. After how nervous she’d been in front of the camera fully clothed, to give permission to show off one in which she wasn’t?

            “Are you sure?” he asked, kissing her on the forehead. She scrunched it up and buried her face in his neck. As much as he loved it, he almost didn’t want to share it with the world. It was such an intimate moment caught on film. Suddenly he remembered that there were more.

            “Don’t worry,” she said, handing him a flash drive. “I deleted the others off the computer and the memory card. But I thought you might want them.”

            “Don’t you?” he asked, worriedly.

            “I made myself a copy too!” She held up another flash drive and then put it back in her pocket. He squeezed her tightly to him. “Yes, I’m sure,” she answered his question from a few moments before.

            “Do you want anything to eat before we go?”

            “Go?” he repeated blankly. Had they made plans the night before and he didn’t remember?

            “Yeah, I’m going to take you shopping. And I thought we could take some photos around town. Your portfolio needs a variety.” She let go and sipped her tea and then picked up a camera bag and set it on the desk. “I’m ready when you are!”

            “Ben dropped me off this morning. I don’t have my truck.”

            “That’s okay. We can take the subway!” She hid it well, but he knew her better now. Her voice had cracked with nervousness, just a little. But he admired her courage anyways. He took her hand and rubbed it gently and she looked up at him with her big blue eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile. One with a promise that she’d be safe. That he’d be right beside her. A grateful look flickered across her features. He’d never been much of a talker, mainly because when Ben was around, he rarely got a word in edgewise. But since he met Ahsoka, he felt as though they communicated constantly, through looks, through touch, through the air, and yes, occasionally words. It made him feel like they shared a private world, one in which no one else could eavesdrop into or take away. A private escape, a paradise, just for them. And he liked it that way.

            “Lead on!” he said, smiling at her. She giggled and ran back to the kitchen to put her cup away. Then she came back, shut the laptop and threw the camera strap over her shoulder. Then she locked the studio door behind them. They walked hand in hand down the street. She’d occasionally squeeze tighter to him when they passed other people, but otherwise she happily pointed things out along the way. He loved seeing the city through her eyes.

            When they made it to the subway entrance she stopped. He could feel her tense beside him. There was a vibration of fear in the air around her. He put his hands on her shoulder to get her to look up at him instead of down the steps. He had to move in front of her a couple times until he had her full attention. “I’m right here.” He whispered. She blinked at him a few times like she’d forgotten he was with her and then she hesitantly nodded. She clung tight to him as he started down the stairs. At the first landing, he took the camera bag from her so he could wrap her closer to him. That seemed to help some as they made their way to the bottom.

            He felt her tremble as they got in line to go through the ticket booth. He kept her as close to him as he could, constantly reassuring her with touches. Ones that didn’t just say it was okay, but also to remind her how brave she was. She panicked a little when they had to go through the ticket bar single file. But he pulled her back into his arms as soon as they were through. He could feel her breathing heavy, freezing up. He kissed her on the top of the head and let her hide in his embrace for a few minutes until her breathing calmed down. She looked up at him full of fear in her blue eyes, he could see her questioning what they’d been thinking to do this.

            He pulled out his earbuds from his pocket, plugged them into his phone, turned on his music and handed them to her. She put them in her ears, visibly calming considerably. Noise was a big part of her anxiety then. He had somehow known early on that she didn’t like crowds. New York was a bad city to be in when that’s a fear of yours. But he was starting to realize this went beyond introversion. There was something else going on. He thought of his cat whenever loud people were in his apartment. Now that he thought about it, he wondered if she got overstimulated. It would explain her instinct to run and hide in crowded areas. There was lots of noise, and color and too many things to see. It could be hard to find one thing to focus on that kept you calm.

            He was going to be that for her. He knew the music wouldn’t drown out all the sound, but it would help. When the train doors opened, he pushed her forward onto the train, making sure to keep a grip on her shoulders so she knew he was right there with her. He watched her fold herself every which way to avoid touching people as they passed by, but if she did brush one, she’d cringe and jump back into him. He guided her through the crowd, repeatedly squeezing her to remind her she wasn’t alone. He found two seats that were empty and sat down. She practically leapt onto his lap, curling up into him as tight as she possibly could. Burying her face in his neck. He wrapped his arms protectively around her and glared at anyone that looked at the empty seat next to him thinking it was available. He caught several people staring and whispering amongst themselves and it took every ounce of willpower to ignore them and not pick a fight. They had no right to judge her. Right now, he thought she was the bravest person in the room. Whatever it was she was fighting to overcome right now, didn’t matter. Because she was fighting it. And he was so proud of her.

            He brushed his hand across her cheek and felt her tremble. She looked up at him for the briefest moment and he knew she was trying to apologize. He shook his head and mouthed to her that she was fine. She rested her forehead against his lips. He could sense that she was trying to relax. At first it seemed every bump startled her but then he noticed she was slowly calming. He could just make out her lips moving as if she was repeating some mantra.

            He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her. Had she been traumatized by something? Was this part of her mental illness? He wished he knew better how to help her. He’d never in his life, met someone like her. When he looked at her, even now on the train as she struggled, he didn’t see damaged goods. He saw someone amazing, someone intelligent and funny, beautiful and magical. Someone that just by being close to you could turn a grey day into an explosion of color. But she didn’t share herself with everyone. Only with people that made an effort. Since he’d met her, he was thankful he was one of the lucky ones.

            He didn’t know where this relationship was going. He wanted it to last as long as possible. But in reality, today was the last session. Ben had already bought tickets for him to go to Chicago and meet with some modeling companies there. He’d be back of course, but who knew when? He hoped they could keep in touch. He wished she could go with him. But he’d never ask her to give up something she was so good at to follow him around to who knew where. Whatever lay ahead, he was going to savor every second he had with her.

            The train slowed and then stopped. The computerized voice announced they’d arrived in the Soho district. He stood up, planning to just carry her, but she was on her feet too quickly. She didn’t seem so nervous this time. Either something distracted her, or she knew they were getting out of this situation and that was enough for a boost of courage. It was her that pulled him along this time. She still hung close to him, weaving through the crowd deliberately missing as many people as possible. He was feeling a little like he was tied to a runaway horse, but he kept pace with her, taking one step to her three. Finally, they emerged on the surface and she let go of him taking a deep breath. Then she spun around in fascination; taking in all the sights and sounds of New York. He wondered why they bothered her less up here. Maybe she was just claustrophobic.

            She kept pointing things out excitedly, but he could only watch her. He’d lived in this city for years, but never really saw it. The wonder in her expression made the whole place feel brand new. She took his hand and led him down the street, looking in shop windows and admiring the sights. They found a neat little eclectic building and he saw her frame her hands and knew what was coming. He pulled the camera out ready to hand her when she turned around. She laughed in surprise and took it from him, along with the bag and pushed him over in front of it. After quickly posing him, she backed up to take the picture.

            They were on the move again. Down another street they found a men’s shop that she apparently liked the look of the displays in the windows and dragged him inside. He wasn’t so sure of the styles, but who was he to refuse? The shopkeeper gave them a judgmental look and asked if he could help them, but she’d already headed towards some racks pulling things out for him to try on. He smiled to himself and told the salesperson they were fine.

            Ahsoka came back with an armful of clothes and excitement in her eyes. Anakin laughed and followed her to the fitting rooms in the back. She shoved the garments in his arms and held the curtain open for him.

            After he hung up all the clothes so he could look and see what she’d picked out, he said, “I’m not sure I know how to put these things together.” He heard her giggle outside.

            “Usually you want a shirt with a pair of pants!”

            “No kidding?” he said popping his head out the curtain and making a face at her. “I always thought you wore two pants or two shirts!” She stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed and disappeared behind the curtain again. “Clothes are complicated!”

            He poked his face out again with a pair of pants on his head and stuck one leg out that was through the sleeve of a shirt. She couldn’t stand it and pushed him inside, fighting the curtain until she was in there with him. She burst out laughing when she saw the crazy getup he’d put together. She went to try and pull the shirt off his leg, but he pretended to fight her for it. They ended up wrestling until one of them banged back against the wall. He heard the sales dude clear his throat outside and ask if he could help them.

            “Nope, all good. Just technical difficulties!” Anakin responded and Ahsoka opened her mouth to say something, but he put his hand over it. To his surprise she licked it. “Agh!” he cried out pulling it away. Her eyes mischievous. She pushed him down on the little seat, taking advantage of the distraction. She leaned in close and kissed him hard on the lips. He pulled her closer, so she was straddling him. But she smacked his hand away and dropped to her knees in front of him, pulling off the shirt that he’d jammed his leg into just to make her laugh. It took some effort for her to get it off.

            She pulled hard falling backwards and he watched her head disappear outside the curtain. But she laid there for a moment wheezing and then threw the shirt, with surprising accuracy at his face. It hit him so hard it knocked the pants off his head and now he was laughing. She sat back up wrapping the curtain around her face. She stared at him for a moment before dissolving into another fit of giggles. He wished he could capture her laughter in a jar and keep it forever.

            When she finally stood up, she handed him different pieces of clothes and tapped her foot while she waited for him to put them on. He pouted at her then put the shirt on backwards. She rolled her eyes at him. “You know it goes the other way, right?” she asked.

            “Why so snippy? We’re just having fun!” he tried his best to whine. She stared at him for a moment and he wondered if the games were over, but then he saw her mouth twitch like she was trying not to smile. He had her now. “Hey Snips! What do you get when you cross a cow with a trampoline?”

            She raised her eyebrow at him. “What?”

            “A milkshake!” That did it. At first, she tried so hard to keep a straight face, but then she burst out laughing and fell forward into his arms. He squeezed her and licked the side of her face and she giggled louder. She punched him in the chest.

            When they finally finished laughing, he pulled her close as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I don’t like being touched,” she said, he felt like he should let her go. “But… when you touch me… everything feels okay. Like… the world is in alignment.” He looked down at the top of her head, wondering what it must be like. She made it sound like she was walking around off axis or something. How did she see it? He’d known only life and color since he met her. What did he look like to her?

            “You taught me how to see myself differently. Show me what you see,” he breathed.

            “It’s a scary place,” she shivered.

            “I want to understand,” he replied gently. She sat back and looked up at him. She hesitated. Was she ready to share it?

            “Close your eyes,” she whispered. He obeyed. “Imagine standing in a dark room. You can’t see, but you know you’re not alone. Everywhere you turn it’s like the shadows are going to leap out at you or swallow you whole. There’s a lot of noise, its loud, but you can’t understand any of it. You can feel things rushing past you, but you can’t see them. The only thing you can do is count, something that occupies your brain, so the darkness doesn’t consume you. You concentrate on that task; it becomes your sole focus. So, when someone touches you, it startles you out of the only thing that was keeping you sane. And it starts to feel like the darkness closes in again.”

            He could feel her fear just imagining what she was describing. He held his breath waiting for her to go on.

            “At first, you were like a distinct shape emerging from the darkness. But then you showed me your pain, and I knew you weren’t like the rest of it. You slowly became lighter and lighter, until when I’m next to you, I feel like the shadows can’t hurt me. And since you’re a light, I can see you when you reach out. So, it doesn’t scare me. When you’re around… I don’t have to count.” He opened his eyes and saw that she’d dropped her head, ashamed. He tipped her chin back so he could look into her eyes. She searched his just as much as he searched hers. He traced the wing pattern on her cheek with his thumb. He didn’t know how to comfort her. He didn’t know what to say. So, he kept stroking her cheek, hoping that his fingers would speak for him.

            “You were counting… on the train?” he asked.

            “Yes.”

            “Even though I was with you?”

            “Sometimes… I can’t help it,” she whispered anxiously. As though he’d be offended.

            “Ahsoka…” he breathed. He wanted to promise her the world. He wanted to promise he’d always be there. But he couldn’t. Because he didn’t know if he would be. “No matter what… I’ll leave my light with you. Sometimes… it might not be enough. But that’s okay. Because you’re brave. It’s time for you to be the light. Use my light to make yourself stronger. Don’t just hide in it.” He wasn’t sure if what he said made sense. He wasn’t even sure if what he said was possible. But he sure hoped so.

            At first, he thought she was going to argue, but then she nodded. He knew intuitively that she’d known from the beginning whatever this was between them might not last. And yet still, she’d opened herself up to him. She was prepared to let him go, even after everything they shared. He felt a catch in his throat. He thought her fearless, but it bothered him to know she would let him walk away so easily when the time came. He didn’t want to let her go. Not in the least. But he wasn’t in a position to promise her anything. He’d had no idea that a photography session would change everything he wanted. If Ben knew that… well… he’d probably lecture him for days.

            But after everything his agent had done for him over the years, practically raising him after his mother died. He owed it to him to see this career through. And a chance encounter with the perfect girl… certainly wasn’t part of the agenda.

            He stood up slowly and pulled the shirt off, putting it back on the right way. She handed him a pair of jeans wondering how she’d just known what would fit him since none of these were in sizes he thought he could wear. But then he remembered how she’d measured him that first day. Maybe it was another vision thing. She could just see what would work, like in her photographs. The jeans fit perfectly, somehow; he wasn’t surprised. She rolled up the bottoms to just above his ankles. It wasn’t how he’d normally wear jeans, but he just went with it. Then she handed him a grey beanie, helping him position it on his head just so. And then the last piece were the converse.

            He studied the look in the mirror. It wasn’t bad. He wasn’t sure if it was his style or not, but he felt good in the outfit. She pulled the camera from the bag and took a picture in the mirror of the two of them. He realized that the only reason this outfit looked good was because she was in the picture too. She completed the look. He smiled sadly to himself.

            He put his arm around her, and they stared at their reflections in the mirror. His chest felt tight. She reached her arm around his back and leaned into him. “Let’s not say goodbye until we have to,” she whispered. He pulled himself together and nodded. “So, do you like the outfit?” she asked him to try to break the heaviness that had fallen around them.

            “I do,” he said. “It’s not something I would’ve picked out. But it just proves you know better than me.” She playfully punched him, and he was finally able to put a smile back on his face. She handed him a pair of dark jeans and a button up plaid shirt to try on. He changed into the new outfit and she rolled up his sleeves a few inches above his wrists. Then gave him some leather bracelets and a watch to put on, along with a pair of brown boots. When he looked in the mirror this time he smiled and jokingly said, “I need to grow a beard!” she laughed and rubbed his face, brushing his hair back and to the side.

            “Yeah,” she said tipping her head to the side. “I like your peach fuzz though.” He leaned forward and rubbed his stubbled chin against her cheek. She giggled.

            “Like this?”

            “You feel like a cactus!” She pushed him away, eyes sparkling.

            “Is there a meaning behind your tattoo?” he asked tracing the white marks down her forehead and around her eyes.

            “It means seeing and living with clarity, ascension and wisdom,” she replied. “Have you ever heard of a fulcrum?”

            “That’s the thing in the middle of a lever, right?” he answered rubbing his chin.

            “That’s one part of the definition. But it’s something that plays a central role in a situation,” she said. “It’s a reminder to me to always let clarity, growth and wisdom be my center.”

            “I like it,” he said, and she smiled at him. “Those are good things to remember, but don’t forget joy and passion too.” She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but instead she just nodded. “Come on,” he said. “I think two outfits is plenty for now. Let’s get out of this store!” Her eyes widened like she just now remembered she was working.

            They walked a couple of blocks to 5th Ave and East 33rd street where she took a picture of him under the one-way street signs by the entrance to the Little Italy district. Then they wandered through China town, which she absolutely adored. They later found Washington street where she took several pictures of him in front of the Manhattan bridge. A few blocks away they found some brownstones that she loved the look of. One in particular was covered almost completely in ivy, while the one next to it had nothing. She posed him there in the middle of the two.

            They turned down Catherine St. and headed towards the waterfront, walking in a comfortable silence. But before they made it there, the sky opened up with a torrent of rain and they ran to find cover under the awning of a nearby building. Ahsoka put the camera away so it didn’t get wet and then huddled under his jean jacket.

            “How long do you think the rain will last?” she asked.

            “Looks like a thunderstorm is brewing. I think we should call it a day. My apartment is not far, we could go there,” he replied.

            She didn’t agree immediately, and he worried that he’d overstepped some invisible line. But then she smiled and said, “okay, but I want to go that way first!” And pointed at the waterfront.

            “There’s no cover that way!” he complained, but she grinned at him, so he sighed and went chasing after her down the street. “What’s this way?” he asked finally catching up to her where she stopped in front of a chain link fence. The rain had already soaked through his shirt and he shivered. He was surprised she wasn’t cold in that flimsy romper.

            “Flowers,” she said, taking off her sweater and throwing it at him and then climbed the fence.

            “The sign says, ‘no trespassing!’” he called after her.

            “So, keep watch!” she snipped and then jumped down on the other side.

            “I’d rather not get arrested,” he said.

            She weaved her fingers through the fence and looked up at him mischievously, strands of her vividly colored hair plastered in pretty patterns around her face and neck. The rain dripped down her skin and off her eyelashes onto her cheeks. Her top stuck to her skin revealing every curve of her body. He sucked in a breath. How was she so beautiful?

            “Are they going to arrest me for picking flowers?” she asked, pressing her full lips through one of the diamond shaped holes. He leaned down and met them.

            “No,” he breathed at last. “But they probably will for trespassing.” She gave him a sultry look, blinking up through the rain.

            “Better be a good guard then!” she laughed. Then she turned her back to him and ran down the embankment towards the wildflowers. He rolled his eyes and turned to face the street, knowing he looked conspicuous standing there with bags of clothes and the camera bag looped over his arms. But the street they were on was deserted at the moment.

            Satisfied that they were alone for the time being, he turned to watch her. She was laughing and twirling as the rain fell on her, flowers in her hand, completely oblivious to the rest of the world. He pulled out his phone and snapped a couple pictures. He remembered the way the glitter had fallen around her the night before. The feel of her skin, the way she radiated from within. He suddenly wasn’t so chilly anymore.

            He forgot for a while that he was supposed to keep watch, she was mesmerizing. Everything about her was bright and colorful and exciting. It was refreshing. With her around, he didn’t mind standing in the rain or the way his clothes clung to his skin. He could forget the pain, the heartache, the fear… for that matter… he could forget the world. If they had forever, would it always feel like this?

            She picked the flowers she wanted and came back to the fence. “Aren’t they beautiful?” He nodded, but he wasn’t looking at the flowers. She started climbing. At the top she shouted, “think fast!” And dropped into his arms. He staggered in surprise but had managed to catch her anyways.

            “You had a lot of faith I’d catch you!” he exclaimed after regaining control of his breathing.

            “I knew you would,” she giggled and then gave him a big, sloppy wet kiss on the cheek. He grimaced.

            “Can we get out of the rain now?” he asked. She nodded and he put her down. Handed her back her sweater and they walked the ten blocks to his apartment. She talked about the flowers and their different meanings. She complained about the way people looked at weeds. She went on about how strong and powerful and persistent they were. And by the end of it, he was sure he’d never look at a flower or a weed the same way again.

            When they finally made it to his apartment they were soaked through. He might as well have jumped into a swimming pool fully clothed. His jeans were starting to chafe, and he was ready for some dry clothes. He unlocked the door and let her inside. His place wasn’t much to look at. It was a small one bedroom, barely 400 square feet. It had an okay view of the city, but until his career took off, he couldn’t afford much furniture. The only thing real homey about it was his cat, Artoo, who met them at the door.

            “Hey buddy,” he greeted him like usual. Artoo was white with a few black spots. He had long hair and bright blue eyes. Kind of like Ahsoka, actually. He dropped the bags on the kitchen counter, gave her a glass to put her flowers in since he didn’t have a vase and went into the bathroom to get a towel. Then he gave her a spare shirt and some shorts for her to change into and disappeared into the bathroom.

            He stripped off his clothes, dried himself and put a pair of pajama pants on. He’d forgotten to grab another shirt for himself. When he came back out, he saw Ahsoka sitting cross legged on the floor petting Artoo who had curled up in her lap. He leaned against the door frame and watched her in awe. She seemed so at peace, and of course his cat, was enjoying every minute of it. The t-shirt he’d given her was much too big and fell off one shoulder exposing her skin. She was so effortlessly sexy.

            She looked up at him smiling so big her eyes sparkled. “I think he likes me!” she said excitedly, rubbing Artoo between the ears. The cat tipped his head back into her hand.

            “You’re lucky, he doesn’t like anyone,” Anakin replied with a smirk. “Not even me sometimes.”

            She giggled. Somehow it didn’t surprise him in the least that his finicky cat was already smitten with her. Maybe they finally had some common ground. “Why’d you name him Artoo?” she asked, “it sounds like a robot.”

            “I know,” he smiled. “But he doesn’t meow, he meeps, and it reminds me of a robot toy I had as a kid, so it seemed fitting.”

            “Where’d you get him?”

            “Ben gave him to me after my mother died. I guess he’d picked him up from someone else’s cat who had kittens. But then he found out he was allergic.” He watched her wrinkle her nose at the mention of his agent. They’d definitely gotten off on the wrong foot. Ben was a good guy. He could be pushy and annoying sometimes, but he genuinely cared what happened to Anakin. He used to be a model himself, so he knew the ins and outs of the business better than most. He knew when to throw his weight around, and when to walk away. But opportunities weren’t coming around like they’d hoped, which was why they’d finally sought to get him a portfolio. Anakin hadn’t really wanted to be a model, but Ben was convinced he had what it takes. Since he didn’t know what else to do or how to get into acting, he’d just gone along with the plan.

            That was until he met Ahsoka. She made him want to chase his dreams, not just muddle through life. “Are you hungry?” he asked her. “I could order us a pizza.”

            “That sounds good!” she exclaimed.

            The pizza came and after they ate, they curled up on the sofa and watched a movie. Part way through she laid down with her head in his lap. He brushed his fingers through her long hair repeatedly. Artoo curled up above them on the back of the couch and purred. He wished tonight could last forever. They’d only known each other for three days, but it already felt like years. He loved how comfortable he felt with her. She made him feel okay. Like he didn’t have to be anything else. They’d bared their souls to each other, they both had pain and baggage, but when he was with her it was bearable. It was even happy. He wasn’t afraid, he could eat, he could leave his scar uncovered; he could just be himself.

            When she rolled back at the end of the movie and gazed up at him, he had the strongest urge to call Ben and tell him to cancel everything, he wasn’t going anywhere. She smiled at him and he returned it. They didn’t speak, but they didn’t need to. She petted Artoo and he beeped for her and she giggled. He was certain in that instant that his apartment would always be haunted by her laughter.

            She sat up and wrapped her arms around his cat, resting her cheek on his soft fur. He was jealous of Artoo for a moment, he could kick himself for how ridiculous he felt.

            He reached for the remote and clicked off the tv and then got up and put his Ross Copperman vinyl on the record player. When Stop the Sun came on he reached out pulling her to her feet. They danced slowly around the room, in front of the couch. He’d twirl her and then dip. She’d throw her head back, laughing. He could only watch her, loving every inch of her. The way his shirt hung off her shoulder, the boxer shorts that you could hardly see under it. Her long legs, her beautiful chocolate skin. The way her facial tattoo drew you in to her sparkling blue eyes that were brighter than a thousand stars. Her blue and white hair that fell effortlessly down her back in waves.

            He spun her again and pulled her close, singing the song softly in her ear. She closed her eyes and smiled dreamily, rocking with him to the music like it was written for them, and them alone. They moved in harmony, like two halves of a whole. When he dipped her this time, he scooped her off her feet and twirled around. She giggled, face aglow and he leaned forward to meet her bronze lips. She wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling herself closer to him, responding with depth and hunger.

            He carried her to the bedroom and set her gently on the bed. Then he picked up his guitar and sat at the head and played her his favorite song. She watched him intensely, a smile frozen across her face. Then she got up, disappeared out the door and returned a moment later with the camera.

            He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, losing himself in the music. He wanted to take the camera out of her hands and make love to her. But he didn’t want to ruin the softness of the moment. He felt the bed move next to him and he looked over to see that she’d crawled in with him.

            He stopped playing and rested his arms on his guitar. The smooth wood made his heart ache as he thought about his mother. It had been hers. The most valuable thing she’d owned. Yet another piece of himself he rarely shared but wanted to with her. “You have a beautiful voice,” she whispered.

            “Thank you. My mother liked to sing, so she taught me how.”

            “You can sing, dance, act…” she started, “so why are you trying to be a model? There’s so many other things, better suited to your talents than letting people look at your body.” She blushed suddenly. “Not that your body is bad to look at.” He laughed and put the guitar to the side.

            “I should ask you the same question!” he replied. “I mean, you’re a fantastic photographer, but is that what you really want in life?”

            “I don’t know,” she replied darkly. “It might be all I can be.”

            “Don’t say that!” he said, reaching to touch her cheek. “You can be anything you set your mind to.”

            “You don’t know what it’s like for someone like me.” She rolled away from him, burying her face in her arms.

            “Maybe I don’t know what it’s like for you,” he said softly. “But I know what you’re like. And you can do anything. I really believe that.”

            She rolled back and sat up, looking at him intensely. “Why?”

            “Because when we were on the subway, you were scared, but you got through it. When we were wandering through the city, you forgot all about being afraid. And when you climbed the fence and danced in the rain, there was no more fear,” he answered carefully. “Every step we took today, made you braver. And if you can do that, you can do anything.”

            “What about you?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.

            “I know all about being afraid,” he said. “When my mom died, I had nothing. The man that had tried to get us out of the abusive situation was killed in a car crash weeks later. Ben, who’d been under his tutelage, and I became close. He did whatever he could to raise me. I owe him everything. But in a business that’s centered around your looks, where you’re judged on a daily basis, you never really stop being afraid.”

            “Why does he make you hide who you are?” she asked curiously.

            “He thinks it’s best for getting me the opportunities I need to get out there. Models are supposed to be clean so that it’s the designer or the product that shines. In a lot of ways, we’re a blank canvas, and they’re the master painter. If we show marks that make us an individual, their paintings lose value.”

            Ahsoka sat forward and put her hands on his face. The way she moved them around made him think she was seeing him with her fingers. “You are the most beautiful painting I’ve ever seen,” she said, kissing him on the lips. “And if they can’t sell me the person in the outfit, I don’t want the outfit.”

            He wasn’t convinced she fully understood the way it worked, but he appreciated her words anyway. When he’d modeled for people before, he’d felt like nothing but a tool, no better than the plastic mannequin in the store. But when he’d modeled for her, it felt like he had a chance to tell the world that he was a living, breathing being. One that had a past and memories and feelings. He suddenly wondered why he wanted to be an actor. It was as if he was constantly pursuing roles in which he didn’t have to or get to be himself.

            He laid back and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. She curled into his arms and he pulled her close. Maybe he was the one that was damaged. Maybe they were all damaged.

            He awoke awhile later. Ahsoka had removed the t-shirt and was laying there with her back to him. He traced his fingers down her back and she moaned softly. Artoo came in and jumped up, settling himself in the small of her back. He pet him absentmindedly and murmured, “you’re a lot hairier than I remember.”

            He heard her giggle and Artoo meeped in protest at her movement. But that only made her laugh harder. His cat glowered at him and leapt off her and stalked away into the living room. Now he was laughing too. She rolled over and looked at him. The city lights coming in from the window made her eyes glow.

            “I confess, I haven’t known you for long, but I’ve yet to see anything wrong with you,” he breathed. She looked down nervously. “What was your diagnosis?”

            She hesitated. “Will you still be interested if I tell you?”

            “There is nothing you could claim to have that could make me love you less.”

            “I was diagnosed with Autism,” she whispered. “My parents didn’t want me after that. They made it sound like the school would help me and they’d be back for me. I waited and waited and waited, but they never came back.” Anakin pulled her close, so her cheek rested on his chest. She didn’t cry though. He was certain she’d already cried for them. Now she was just numb about it. He didn’t know much about Autism, but he was mad at her parents for not seeing her value. If he ever had a chance to track them down, he’d give them a piece of his mind. He had no idea where tomorrow would take him, but he knew he’d be back for her, someday. He hoped she knew that too.

Chapter Text

            Anakin leaned on the balcony railing that overlooked the city. New York was a bustle of activity that never seemed to stop. He loosened his bow tie and took a heavy breath.

            He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He had everything in the world he’d always wanted. But he felt hollow. Ahsoka’s pictures had brought him dozens of job opportunities, to the point that several agencies were fighting over him. The money was rolling in, he’d been able to move to a penthouse apartment in a ritzier neighborhood. Photos of him were all over town, on billboards, on screens in Times Square, in shop windows. He’d made the big time.

             “There you are!” came Padmé’s voice as she joined him on the balcony. “What a great party!” she said a little breathlessly, leaning back against the railing. He pecked her softly on the lips and nodded in agreement. He didn’t want her to know how he really felt because it meant a lot to her. Padmé Amidala was a world-renowned fashion designer. Everybody adored her. She was brilliant, gorgeous, charismatic, creative… the list went on. She lived for events like these. What was it, the fourteenth one this month? He’d lost track.

“How about we leave all these people and drive out of town to do some stargazing?” he murmured.

            She flashed him a sad smile and shook her head. Not a hair moved out of place. “That sounds romantic,” she said patting his arm. He recognized her tone; she was simply humoring him. The truth was none of the things he wanted to do interested her. “But the party is just getting started, and there’s lots of people I still need to meet,” He grimaced internally. Just getting started? They’d already been there three hours! “Are you coming in?” she asked.

             “I think I’ll stay out here a little longer.” She didn’t argue. He glanced over his shoulder and watched her sashay back inside; smile plastered on her lips as she emphatically greeted another big name in the business. He didn’t envy her. Padmé was beautiful, with dark brown hair and soft brown eyes. She was feminine and classy. Rich, but charitable. That’s partly why there were so many parties. She had a bleeding heart and he appreciated that about her.

            But it would turn out, the lifestyle he’d always craved, meant nothing to him.

            Hours later he opened the door to his apartment and threw his tux jacket to the side across the closest chair. Artoo trotted to the door beeping at him. “Hey buddy,” he said sitting down on the couch and absentmindedly petted the cat that had jumped into his lap. He turned on the tv but stared blankly at it. After a few minutes of not absorbing anything, he clicked it off and sat quietly in the dark room, listening to Artoo purr in his lap.

            Restless, he pushed the cat off and went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. Then went outside in the night air and lit up a cigarette. He looked across the city wondering how Ahsoka was doing. He wanted so badly to call her, but she hated talking on the phone. She didn’t have her own, so he couldn’t even text her. He kept hoping she’d make an exception for him, but every time he thought about it, it was late at night. She was probably there; he’d figured out early on that Plo had let her stay there because she didn’t like going back to the school.

            It had been eight months since he’d last seen her, but he’d thought about her every day and dreamt about her nearly every night. Even when Padmé was sleeping next to him. It all had happened so fast, he’d planned to keep in touch, he really had. He just hoped she was happy. Because he sure wasn’t.

            After snuffing out the cigarette in the ashtray, he went back inside. Thinking about Ahsoka made his heart ache. Who knew a whirlwind romance would make him pine for someone even after all this time? He set his empty beer bottle on the counter and went to his desk. He pulled out the flash drive she’d given him and plugged it into his laptop.

            As he clicked through the pictures of that magical night, he felt a weight land on his chest. He smiled at her dancing in the glitter. Burned for her as he flipped through the intimate ones. He loved Padmé, he really did. She was kind and good, and he didn’t want to hurt her. Ben had encouraged their relationship when she’d started showing interest in him. He’d told him it could take him farther. So, he’d started courting her. At first, it was amazing that someone in her position would want anything to do with him. They went on fancy dates, they talked a lot; well… she did most of the talking, not that he minded necessarily. He enjoyed seeing her passion, he sincerely celebrated her successes, they definitely had chemistry in the bedroom… but…

            He sighed and put the flash drive away. Was there something wrong with her or was there something wrong with him? Him, definitely him. Padmé was perfect in every way. But she wasn’t what he wanted anymore.

            He picked up his mother’s guitar and wandered back outside. In the cool night air, he put his feet up and plucked out You’re Home by Satellites & Sirens, while softly singing. Tears were falling by the end of it. He laid back and stared at the sky, letting himself cry out months of emptiness and longing. “I miss you, mom,” he whispered to the dark and cloudy sky. “I know what I should do, but it’s not what my heart wants,"

            His phone startled him awake in the morning. He’d fallen asleep outside with the guitar on his chest. He blinked to clear his eyes and looked at his watch while reaching for the phone.

            "Hey hun,” he said, seeing that it was Padmé calling. He listened to her, but had trouble focusing on what she was saying. His brain was still fuzzy and his heart still heavy. He leaned his head against the back of the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as she went on about how great the party was the night before. After about twenty minutes, his mind was made up. “Padmé,” he tried to gently interrupt her, but she just kept going. “Padmé!” he asserted louder. She stopped talking finally. “Can we meet for coffee? There’s something I need to tell you.” He expected her to say she couldn’t, she was always busy after all, but she seemed to recognize a change in his tone and agreed. He pictured her pretty features drawn in concern and he felt guilty.

            Half hour later he sat at a booth in the coffee shop closest to her office. He’d already ordered for both of them and was waiting for her to arrive. His thumbs played with the cup in front of him, he was too anxious to take a sip. He looked up when she entered, she was stunning as she slipped into the seat across from him. He swallowed hard.

             “Are you okay?” she asked.

             “I love you,” he said, strained. It was true… that wasn’t what hurt.

            "I love you too,” she replied without even hesitating.

He tried to smile, but he couldn’t. "These last few months have been amazing.” His throat constricted and he stumbled over words as he struggled to breathe. “But you deserve so much better. I can’t give you my whole heart,” he said at last, fighting to keep going. “I’m in love with someone else. My relationship with her was before I met you, but I never got over her. I’m sorry,” he said lowering his head, hating himself.

            He watched her in his peripheral vision as he forced himself to swallow some of the now cold coffee. He could see her face screw up in a range of emotions. He wasn’t sure what he was going to get back. He hoped she wouldn’t cry, or yell… but he deserved both of those. Padmé was never at a loss for words, so he wasn’t proud of the fact that he’d stunned her silent. He felt on edge as the time dragged on in which she didn’t speak.

            "Okay,” she said at last.

            "Okay?” he asked surprised. Of all the reactions he’d expected, that wasn’t one of them.

            "I think… I think I always knew,” she said sadly. "I just didn’t want to believe it. You treated me so well, I pretended not to see the truth.” She stood up. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” She turned to go.

            "Padmé!” he called, but she was already gone. Disappearing into the crowd of people walking down the street. He sighed. The coffee he’d bought her was still sitting across from him like a sad reminder of what he was missing. She hadn’t even touched it. He took another sip of his and let a tear roll down his cheek as he stared blankly out the window.

            He didn’t move off his couch for several hours. He’d ignored at least four phone calls from Ben and a dozen texts. The last one said he was coming over. Ben had a key, he didn’t care.

He heard his agent let himself in, but he didn’t move to greet him. "What’s the matter with you?” Ben asked, coming in with a flourish and dropping all his stuff on the kitchen island. “You missed two appointments and you’re late for the third!”

            Anakin looked up at him blankly. “Padmé and I broke up,” he said emotionless.

            "Oh.” Ben stopped in his tracks. “Oh…” he said again with more understanding. He went to the fridge to get himself a beer, bringing one back for him. Anakin took it from him but didn’t drink. "What happened?”

            "I’m in love with Ahsoka,” Anakin said finally.

            "Who?” Ben asked surprised. He tried not to get angry that Ben didn’t remember her. Why would he? He wasn’t the one that shared three magical days with her. But logical or not, it annoyed him that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, yet no one else seemed to care about her. He’d never told Ben about their relationship, though he’d wanted to countless times. “You’ve been so busy, when have you had time to meet some mystery girl?”

            "She took my portfolio pictures.” Anakin hoped that would be enough to jog his memory.

            "Wait! You fell in love with her? Anakin! That was three days!” Ben said, stroking his chin in an irritated manner. He really hated the way he’d emphasized the word ‘her’. Ben picked up his phone and frantically started typing on it.

            "What are you doing?” he asked him.

            "Trying to find you a shrink! You’ve obviously gone crazy on me!” Ben exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’d throw away your entire future, all of this, for some no-name hussy you barely knew!"

            That did it. Anakin was on his feet. "She’s not a hussy! She’s amazing! And if you’d take your head out of your ass occasionally, you’d realize that none of this makes me happy!"

            Ben stood up too, appalled. "I did all of this for you! I promised your mother I’d take care of you and I did! I worked my ass off for years to get you a life you’d never have otherwise, and you just want to throw it out the window? Forget this girl, Anakin. Call Padmé and make-up. I expect you back on your feet tomorrow!” Ben turned on his heels and left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

            "Aaarggghhh!” Anakin yelled, pressing his hands to his temples and falling back on the couch. Artoo peeked out around the corner now that Ben was gone and jumped up on the top of the couch and started hollering. "You too, huh?” Anakin asked his cat. “Am I crazy for missing her? For wanting her? Should I do what Ben said and just forget about her?” Artoo landed hard on his chest staring into his eyes and tipped his head to the side like he was trying to understand. Anakin patted him on the head, “you’re right,” he said. “My life sucks without her.”

            He leapt up suddenly, knocking the beer Ben had given him over. He didn’t really care as it soaked into the rug. He threw on his shoes and a jacket and took off.

            He took a bus that dropped him a few blocks from Plo’s studio. He stopped at a flower stand looking over the colorful bouquets, smiling to himself for the first time in months. He wasn’t sure which ones to pick, they were all so beautiful. Though none of them were made of weeds, he chuckled, but then darkened as he remembered how mad he’d been when Ben had thrown out the flowers she’d picked that night. It didn’t matter to him that they’d been sitting dead in the cup for a month, when he looked at them, they were as fresh and bright as when she’d picked them. But when Ben had helped him move, that was something he’d done without even asking Anakin first; he’d assumed they were garbage. And perhaps they were but…

            "Can I help you?” the stand owner asked.

            "I’m just having trouble making up my mind, they’re all so beautiful,” Anakin replied.

            The stranger smiled and went on about all the different kinds of flowers, pointing bouquets out along the way. Anakin stopped as he passed one in particular. It was a wildly vivid bouquet of a kind of flower he was unfamiliar with. But it was the smell that had captured his attention. They smelled like citrus. Memories of Ahsoka’s skin flashed through his brain, and the way her perfume had teased him mercilessly.

            "What are these?” he asked pointing to the flowers that had captured his attention.

            "Those are freesia,” the shop keeper replied. Anakin nodded his thanks and purchased that bouquet and then made the rest of his way to the studio.

            He questioned whether or not it made sense to bring her flowers, but then he thought at the very least, she deserved a thank you for taking the pictures that had catapulted him into success. But the closer he got, the more nervous he became. Would she remember him? Had she missed him? Had she moved on? Would she want to see him? Would everything be different? Had he done what Ben had claimed and thrown his future away for a crazy romantic idea?

            He had to take several steadying breaths before finally pulling open the studio door and heading inside.

            "Anakin, my boy!” Plo exclaimed coming around the corner to greet him. "I see your face everywhere I look, so I guess that portfolio did you good?” Anakin nodded but was looking around him wondering where Ahsoka was, she didn’t come out of the back room if she’d heard the studio owner say his name. Plo didn’t seem to notice that Anakin was distracted and kept chatting happily. He caught sight of someone moving around, but when they turned, it wasn’t her.

            "Where’s Ahsoka?” he interrupted Plo.

            The change in him was instantaneous; his smile faded, his shoulders dropped, he looked away and shifted uncomfortably. Anakin felt a lump in his throat, please don’t tell me she’s dead. He prayed silently.

            “Bad business,” Plo said at last. “When I got back from taking photos for miss Amidala’s fashion line, there was a ton of equipment missing. I called the cops of course, but they never found evidence of who could have done it. Several witnesses claimed they saw her steal it, I didn’t believe them of course, but rumors were starting to spread and I… well, I had to let her go.”

            “She’d never steal from you!” Anakin replied indignant. “She’d never steal from anyone!” He’d dropped the flowers angrily without thinking. “You saw the pictures she took! She had all the skill in the world to make it, she wouldn’t put that on the line!”

            “Yes, she was very talented, it’s a shame. I was fond of her, but… my business comes first. I’m sorry,” Plo responded, not sounding very sorry. “And the photographs she took of you did boost my reputation and brought in a lot more opportunities for me.”

            Anakin furrowed his brow; he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You took credit for her photos and threw her out? How dare you!”

            “Of course not! Well… Ben thought I’d photoshopped them and I just didn’t… correct him. His review of the pictures is what brought me a rush of business!” It took every ounce of willpower Anakin had to not smash something.

            “Where is she?” he demanded.

            “I don’t know! She might be at the school unless she graduated by now. Other than that, I have no idea.”

            Anakin stormed out of the studio in a seething rage. He could not believe it. He couldn’t believe that Plo could throw someone out whom he’d regarded as a daughter. He couldn’t believe that Ben had been a part of it. But worse, this had all happened that same week, meaning that for eight months he’d been flying high on the fame she helped him achieve and he’d been deluding himself that she was happy and safe this whole time.

            He ran the few blocks to the school, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t be there. Of course, they wouldn’t tell him anything. He wandered the streets for awhile and then finally sat down on a park bench and called Ben.

            They argued for a few minutes but then he played the one card he had, “You better help me find her, because I refuse to work with any other photographer.” There was silence on the other end of the call. He had to look at his screen to make sure it hadn’t disconnected.

            "Where are you?” Ben sighed at last. Anakin gave him his location. "I’ll be right there.” He sat numbly while he waited for his agent to find him. He could hardly process everything that had happened. But more than anything, he was terrified for Ahsoka. He hoped wherever she was, she was okay. He was going to burn the city down to find her, if he had to.

            “Why is this girl so important to you?” Ben asked quietly, joining him on the bench half hour later.

            "I love her,” Anakin replied simply. “She makes me a better person. When she’s around, I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I don’t throw up after every meal… I can be myself because I’m not afraid.” He felt Ben cringe next to him.

            “After just three days, she could do all that? That’s amazing,” Ben whispered. “I’ve been with you for years and I couldn’t do it for you.” He said the last part so softly Anakin had barely heard him.

            “She is amazing. You’ll understand when you meet her. Those pictures she took, for my portfolio? They weren’t photoshopped. She captured all of that, often in a single take. She has a gift, Ben. And it will benefit all of us to find her.”

            “So where do we start?” he asked as though conceding defeat.

“There’s something you need to know first,” Anakin replied. He went on to tell Ben that Ahsoka had autism so that if and when they found her, he knew how to approach her. Ben listened carefully and nodded. He seemed to finally be hearing the passion Anakin felt when it came to her, because he didn’t argue anymore.

—

            The darkness was all consuming. She was trying to fight it as much as she could, but no matter how hard she tried, it would spring right back as though it were made of rubber. She looked down the street ahead of her. There he was again. Teasing, tantalizingly close. He wasn’t real, but she didn’t care. He was still a light in the darkness, and she moved to it like a moth to a flame. The sounds around her were loud and disjointed. It made her ears buzz. She strained to hear his voice. “I’m here.” He called to her. She knew it was a lie, but she fell for it anyways. Her hand reached to touch his face, to feel his skin, but it was hard and cold. She leaned her face against him, willing him to wrap his arms around her. Needing him to shine for her again. But his hands never moved. His fingers never ran through her hair. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She sat down on the sidewalk in front of him. Rocking back and forth, her arms around her knees and started counting.

            Someone was yelling at her. She brought her hands to her ears. The darkness reached at her and she drew back stumbling to her feet as she was torn from him again. Another turn, another block, another street; another illusion. But this one was moving. She blinked a few times. It continued to come, brighter and brighter until it illuminated everything around her. She looked up at him blankly. The only thing keeping her sane was now taunting her. He reached towards her, but she backed away. It can’t be real. It can’t be. It’s never real.

—

             “Ahsoka!” he called to her. She didn’t recognize him, she didn’t react. Had it been that long? She pulled back and he stopped. She fell to her knees muttering to herself. He lowered himself down too. She kept blinking. He could see her fear. She didn’t feel safe. He wasn’t making her feel safe. How had he before?

            His chest tightened. His heart had leapt in his chest the moment he’d spotted her, but it was sinking again. Why had he left her behind? Why did it take him so long to come back? He suddenly remembered the makeup he was wearing. He lifted the bottom of his shirt and wiped it off. At first it didn’t seem to make a difference. But then she sat forward watching him closely. He looked at her with all the pain he’d felt of missing her. And then he opened his arms. She threw herself into them. He pulled her tightly to him, kissing her on the forehead and then burying his face in her short, dark hair. His shirt felt wet, he knew she was crying so he just held her, rubbing her back and shoulders; whispering over and over again how sorry he was. She shook and trembled, he could feel her chest rise and fall against him in labored breathing.

            He looked up over her and saw that Ben had come around the corner at the end of the block and was slowly making his way towards them. He looked concerned, watching her with pity as he approached. He swallowed hard; the pain visible in his eyes as he looked up at his friend. To his surprise though, when Ben got close enough, he too sat down on the sidewalk with them. At first, he shifted awkwardly, but then he let himself relax, though he made a point of glaring at anyone that gave them a funny look.

            Ahsoka was filthy, it was clear she’d been living on the street for awhile, probably since Plo had thrown her out. He burned with guilt as he imagined what that must have been like for anyone, let alone someone with autism that didn’t do well with lots noise and people. No safe place to lay down her head, no one to support her. He hated that he’d taken so long to come back for her. He’d assumed she’d be alright. He never could have imagined she wouldn’t be. But that thought did nothing to assuage the guilt. He promised her in his embrace, that he would never let her go again. If she’d have him, he’d be there. Always.

            A few minutes after Ben had sat down, Ahsoka finally released him. She then turned, started just a little to see Ben there too. But he smiled at her. She glanced back at Anakin and he nodded encouragingly at her. She reached out and took Ben’s hand, squeezing it, looking into his eyes. He looked a little unsure of what to do, but before he figured it out, she threw her arms around his neck this time. He fell back off his heels in surprise, but then he hugged her back, sharing a look at Anakin that said, ‘okay, you were right.’ Anakin couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips.

            He stood up and offered his hand to both of them. She took it first after letting Ben go. Then Ben reached out muttering something about being too old for this. But it was in a joking way and Anakin laughed and helped him up. Ahsoka still looked a little dazed, but she was functioning again, as though it was slowly coming back to her. Once they were all on their feet again, he put his arm around her shoulders protectively and they headed back to his new apartment.

Chapter Text

            They hadn’t talked much on the way back to his place. She didn’t cling to him like he expected and Ben, who earlier had been mad about this girl, now hovered protectively on her other side. People gave them odd looks, but he didn’t care. The only thing he was worried about was if she’d be okay. She seemed numb to her surroundings as if she were moving on autopilot. He made a mental note to do some research on autism so he could better understand what this trauma might have done to her. At the very least, he was glad she trusted him. He made silent promises all the way back that he’d take care of her.

            When they reached his door, he unlocked it and let them in. She stood in the entry looking around blankly. None of it would be familiar to her, it was all new. Maybe that was what agitated him when he came home too. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. He dug through his drawers to find something she could wear. He smiled as he found the boxer shorts and t-shirt she’d worn before. He hadn’t worn them himself since then because he liked that they smelled like her.

            He walked her into the bathroom and turned on the rain shower. Adjusting the temperature for her. He gestured to it, but she didn’t move. She looked up at him expressionless. He touched her cheek softly and she leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. He took her head in both hands and kissed her softly on the forehead. He slid his hands down to her shoulders, down her arms and to the hem of her sweater. She lifted her arms above her head so he could pull it off her. He then undid the button of her jeans, unzipped them and they fell around her ankles. He held her steady as she stepped out of them.

            When she was naked in front of him, he pulled her into his arms. She held him, trembling slightly. He then guided her into the shower. At first, she just stood there, the water flowing over her body. Then she turned to look at him, her fingers on the glass door. He shouldn’t have been so excited, because this wasn’t an invite for sex. She didn’t seem to want to be alone. He didn’t blame her; she spent the last 7-8 months alone. He stripped and stepped in with her, poured soap on a washcloth and started massaging it. She looked up at him and closed her eyes, so he washed her face first. As he worked his way around her body, slowly and gently, he started seeing bruises on her arms and legs. A few on her abdomen. As he went along, he’d kiss them softly. He didn’t know what had happened to her, but his heart ached for her. She just stood there, letting him touch her. She didn’t help, but she also didn’t fight it. He did feel her tense a couple times when he touched certain bruises. But was it the bruise or the memory that hurt?

            He wanted to ask her what happened, but right now all he cared about was making her feel safe again. Once that was established, then maybe he could learn what she’d been through. If she’d been in a talkative mood though, he would have encouraged her, but since he’d found her again, she hadn’t spoken a word aloud. Her body had spoken volumes, along with her eyes. And he was thankful that she’d taught him her language, because he could now care for her while she was afraid to open her lips. Otherwise they might still be standing on the street trying to determine the best course of action.

            He stood up and poured shampoo into his hands then massaged it into her scalp. She moaned softly, at least something felt good. He took his time working it through her hair and then finally rinsed it out. He turned off the water and stepped out. He grabbed two towels from the warmer and wrapped one around her. Then he quickly dried himself off and got dressed. When he was done, he helped her dry off and into the clothes he’d pulled out for her.

            Then he had her sit on the step to the tub while he sat on the edge above and he brushed her hair. It was pretty tangled at first, so it took awhile to make progress, but he tried his hardest to be careful not to pull it as he went. Thankfully it was short. Padmé had long brown hair that he’d helped brush a couple of times and it felt like it took forever because she was particular about how he did it. Actually, she never liked him brushing her hair, and part way through would tell him to leave so she could finish. Then she’d come out an hour later with her hair in some fancy style. In his mind, always glued to her head with product. Ahsoka seemed to enjoy him doing hers, because she had relaxed with her arms over each of his knees.

When he was done brushing it, she leaned back into him and looked up at his face. He kissed her on her forehead, and she closed her eyes. He ran his fingers down her arms and held her hands. It was such a strangely intimate moment, sitting in the bathroom like that. It was then that he fully realized how much he’d missed her presence. To be able to sit there in comfortable silence, to feel like everything would be okay. To not need to plan for things or go anywhere. To just listen to two heartbeats as they echoed around the room.

He’d never expected to meet someone like her. He’d definitely never expected to fall in love with her. He’d never considered what a relationship should be like. And now, he couldn’t ever imagine his life without her. They hardly knew each other; conventionally anyways. But… did length of time matter when you find someone you’re so comfortable with? He’d never want to rush her. He didn’t know if she felt the same way, or even if she wanted a relationship with him, or anyone for that matter. All he knew was that when she was here, he didn’t want to be anywhere else. And when she wasn’t here, well, he wanted her to be.

"Come on,” he said at last. "Let’s get you something to eat, you must be hungry.” She nodded and stood up. They made their way out to the kitchen and were surprised to find Ben cooking away.

            "Ah there you are!” he said, "I made you a grilled cheese sandwich and my specialty, tomato basil soup!” He smiled at her and pushed the dishes across the island in front of a seat.

            "Thank you!” she said, sitting down on the stool and digging in. Ben grinned at her, flipped a towel over his shoulder and watched her take a bite.

            "I suppose I should’ve asked if you have any dietary restrictions, but I thought this would be safe enough, unless you’re lactose intolerant,” he commented concerned.

            "I’m not,” she said. "And no, I don’t. Thank you.” Ben looked relieved and then pushed another plate over for Anakin. He sat down next to Ahsoka and started eating too. “This is really good,” she said, sighing softly.

            "I’m glad you like it,” Ben replied warmly, taking a bite of his own sandwich. Anakin smiled to himself. It was almost hard to believe that just the other day he was arguing with Ben about her. And now his agent was doting on her like she was the child he never had. He guessed finding her on the streets rocked him harder than he cared to admit, especially after Anakin had told him about her autism. He wasn’t treating her weirdly at least, that was a plus. But he did seem to like her more than even he’d expected. "Would you like some tea?” Ben offered her.

            "Yes please,” she replied. Anakin was happy to hear her voice again. He’d been worried about how quiet she’d been. Even though he liked their comfortable silences, he was afraid of the depth of the trauma. But now that they’d gotten her cleaned up and some food into her, she was starting to perk up. He was relieved. It meant that she could recover from anything that had happened. Ben chatted away, entertaining them as they ate. She giggled at one of his stories and Anakin couldn’t help but breathe it in. God, he’d missed her laughter.

            "You know,” Ben said leaning on the counter and looking at her thoughtfully. “You really remind me of someone I haven’t thought about in a long time.” His tone drifted nostalgic as memories seemed to wash through him. Anakin was surprised by the change in him. Whoever it was, must have left quite an impression, because Ben had a smile on his lips and a faraway look.

            Ahsoka reached across the island and squeezed his hand, startling him out of his reverie. “You should call her.” Ben looked at her surprised, and then shook his head sadly.

            "I wouldn’t know what to say.” He glanced at Anakin, "it’s been at least fifteen years.”

            "But you still love her,” Ahsoka whispered knowingly. Anakin raised an eyebrow at Ben. It was the one part of his past he never talked about. He put on a good show, but he’d always seen how lonely he was. He’d often wondered if he was the reason Ben didn’t date. He put an obscene amount of effort into taking care of him, which he was grateful for, of course. He’d just always wondered what he’d sacrificed to do so.

            Ben shifted uncomfortably, and then softened a little. "Perhaps,” he responded softly. “But it was a long time ago. People change,"

            Silence fell over the room. Ahsoka looked as though she wanted to say something else but decided against it. Ben and Anakin went about cleaning up the kitchen and then Ben said farewell and went home for the night. Artoo had padded out of the bedroom after Ben left and she’d picked him up, cradling him in her arms, petting him gently. He loved every second of it and was purring loudly. Anakin smirked at his cat.

            "You fickle thing,” he said, rubbing him on the head on his way past to clean up the bathroom. When he returned, Ahsoka was outside leaning on the railing. “Are you okay?” he asked, joining her.

            She didn’t answer immediately, but then in her usual wistful manner, she said, “I am now.” Anakin melted, and put his arm around her shoulders. They stood there for a long time, staring at the city below.

            When they finally went to bed, he wrapped his arms around her protectively and pulled her so her back was pressed up against his front. He kissed her jaw, her neck and the top of her shoulder. He nuzzled his face into her short dark hair. He missed the wild stripes she’d had before but it looked as though her hair had started growing out, so she’d just chopped off any of the colored part. Her naturally curly hair was pretty too, though it felt like a muted version of herself. At least after he’d had a glimpse of who she liked to be. He made a mental note to buy her new soap, he didn’t like that she smelled like Padmé now. It messed with his head. Artoo jumped on the bed and curled up in front of her purring. He felt her move her arm to stroke him. He could tell she relaxed as she did so. He was jealous that his cat seemed to make her feel more comfortable than he did. But then again, if you’re out on the street and there’s terrifying people around you all the time, he supposed an animal would seem less threatening in the beginning.

Chapter Text

            He’d barely made it through the door, grumbling to himself about how long it had taken to make all the different errands he’d had planned when he just barely managed to stop before tripping over Artoo. It was a good thing he was meeping loudly, because he couldn’t even see his feet through all the bags that were up and down his arms. He was about to tell him to move when he heard it too. No wonder Artoo was so upset.

            He frantically tried to get untangled from the endless packages, leapt over his disgruntled cat and sprinted into the bedroom. “Ahsoka, Ahsoka!” He reached out to shake her out of the nightmare, cursing himself for being gone so long. Who knew how long she’d been thrashing about? He should have thought about nightmares before leaving this morning, but he’d wanted her to sleep in and relax while he went out to pick up a few things for her.

            He just barely ducked in time to not get hit by her fist. Holy crap! “Don’t touch me!” Thankfully in her sleep what normally would have been a scream was just a loud and hoarse whisper.

            He pulled back his hands, trying to give her space but still trying to wake her up. “Ahsoka, shhh, it’s okay!” he tried to comfort her. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you here.” He wanted so bad to touch her, but admittedly he was a little scared to in this state. Not just because she packed a punch, but because he didn’t want to scare her more right now. She’d said before that she didn’t mind him touching her, because it wasn’t startling, but that probably didn’t translate into the dreamworld or nightmares when everything else was terrifying.

            Try as he might, he wasn’t having much luck calming her down, but he had an idea and ran back out into the living room to grab his guitar. It took a few times to get started, because he’d sat down on the edge of the bed and she kept kicking him in the back when she tossed and turned. He’d have moved farther away but he wanted to be as close to her as she allowed right now.

            He started singing the calmest song he could think of off the top of his head. One she’d seemed to have liked before. It took a few bars before she finally slowed down. Then she sat up, panting, staring at him wide-eyed and he put his guitar down.

             “Are you okay?” he asked. She didn’t say anything at first, she just stared at him. “Do you want to talk about the nightmare?” Again, she didn’t speak, and it was all he could do not to reach out and touch her right now. But he read her expression and even though she was awake again, she was still in a bad place and he wasn’t going to push his luck.

            Ever since she’d told him that she didn’t like being touched, he’d sworn to himself that he would never do something that would make her feel unsafe and that included thinking that he could touch her at times she clearly didn’t want to be. And even if they were a couple or married or whatever, he would always make sure he had permission first. At least they could communicate without words too so that helped a lot.

            He saw her eyes change as she looked him up and down, for a moment he wondered if she didn’t recognize him. He glanced down at his outfit to be sure he hadn’t done something stupid like over dress or cover his scar, but no, he’d just thrown on jeans and a t-shirt this morning and he definitely hadn’t put makeup on. Then it dawned on him what she was probably trying to figure out.

             “I promise, I’m real,” he said softly, and he showed her his pain by thinking about his mother. He reached out and played with the handle of his guitar. “You remember me telling you this was my mother’s guitar? I miss her so much. It’s been fifteen years since she died, but I still cry about it.” He felt a pain in his chest and tried to swallow the sudden rush of emotion. He hated thinking about his mom, but he knew Ahsoka needed to see it to comfort herself that he wasn’t just a billboard or a poster.

            She seemed to calm down a little, but still didn’t speak. She looked down at his old T-shirt she was wearing and touched the bedsheets.

             “You can stay here as long as you want,” he assured her, scooting a little closer but still not touching her. She gave him a quick look of gratitude and then glanced around the room; not in total confusion, but it was enough to make him wonder if autism came with memory problems. But then he followed her eyes and realized none of his belongings he’d had at his other apartment were here. At least not in this room. He sighed and dropped his elbows onto his knees and rubbed his hands together. “Yeah this place doesn’t feel like home to me either. It was exciting at first, you know? To finally have all the things that make you feel successful, but as the months went on, it just became an empty box.”

            He glanced at her to say that it was better with her here, but he didn’t have to speak that sentiment, he knew she understood.

             “Well, we could make it more like us, or we could find a place we like better,” he smiled at her. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through these past few months, but I think you’re really brave, you know? Braver than me anyways.” He picked at his fingernails. “I’ve had everything handed to me and was still miserable. At least you were fighting your demons, mine just took over.”

            He sighed feeling stupid. Why was he complaining right now? He wasn’t the one that had been living on the street, hungry and abused and alone. But he’d still been so lost, every day more miserable than the last. He glanced at her. She was still sitting there like when she’d woken up in the panic, but her eyes weren’t wide or scared anymore. She just tipped her head to the side like she was watching him in confusion or curiosity. He didn’t know if she was still trying to come down from the nightmare, still unsure about her situation or if she was just waiting for him to spill it all out like he obviously needed to.

             “I started drinking again. And smoking. And struggling to keep food down. I don’t know why that’s so hard but yeah, everyone thinks I have this great life and every day I just woke up miserable.” He risked reaching out to squeeze her left hand that was on the bed. He wasn’t sure if she was ready to be touched but he couldn’t resist anymore. She didn’t flinch or pull away. That was good right? But her silence was still a bit unnerving. He’d have to get used to it though, what she’d been through could have unexpected outcomes. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back for you,” he whispered. “I thought you were safe; I had no idea...”

            He brushed the tear off his cheek and took a deep breath.

             “Hey, uh... I brought donuts if you want one.” For the first time since he’d heard her thrashing about, she lit up. Eyes widening in excitement. He smiled. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

            She jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom; he watched her go feeling heavy. Both from the condition he’d found her in and all of his confessions he’d done to put her at ease. His life truly was a mess, maybe they could heal together. Maybe that’s exactly what they needed.

He missed her vibrancy, but how could he fault her for seeming dark and hollow after what had happened? He only hoped he could help bring her back, make her want to shine and sparkle again.

            He shrugged and headed out of the bedroom. After telling off his cat who’d been digging through all the bags he’d dropped on the floor, he picked them up and set them on the counter. He rummaged through them until he found the donuts and put them on plates. He hadn’t gotten a whole dozen because he didn’t think that was the right food for someone malnourished and half-starved and he knew he would struggle to eat them too.

            Regrettably he hadn’t had time to be as thoughtful about picking the right one for her as she had for him and he pursed his lips when he realized she’d probably notice. But maybe the other stuff he’d gotten would make up for it. Though he felt stupid as he sat there debating which donut to offer her. He’d never given this much thought to a fried piece of dough before. But the more he studied them, the more he worried they were too heavily frosted or not the right shape or the one had too many sprinkles. Or the other was too squished. If he hadn’t of already told her he had them, he might have just thrown them out and given up trying to figure it out.

            He was so consumed by the donuts that when he looked up as she entered the room, he completely forgot to breathe for almost so long he started sputtering. She’d come out of the bedroom butt naked, having apparently ditched his T-shirt and shorts. She appeared slightly damp as though she’d rinsed off but hadn’t bothered to grab a towel. And all he could do was stare at her. It wasn’t that seeing her naked was so shocking since he just had the night before, it was just with all his dilemma over the donuts he must have temporarily forgotten she wasn’t like Padmé.

            He’d gotten so used to his ex’s moderate habits. How she was pretty much only ever naked for sex and showers. Otherwise she had clothes on for everything. Which made sense, she was a fashion designer, clothes were her life and she always had new ones. Which in itself should have been exciting, but he’d never felt the same way for her clothes as he probably should have. After his experiences with Ahsoka, it often felt as though despite staying over nights at each other’s places, there was still this brick wall between them. No comfortableness, no real intimacy, just two people going through the motions as they drifted through life.

            Ahsoka stopped by the island and he absentmindedly watched the water drip down to the floor. He didn’t really give a damn about her making the floor wet, he was just glad that she seemed to feel comfortable enough with him again to do whatever struck her fancy. Once he’d managed to glue his jaw shut again, he straightened and looked her over. In the harsh bright lights of the kitchen all the bruises were extra noticeable. She still had curves but was definitely skinnier than he remembered. In some places he could see her bones more obviously than he had before.

            It hurt to see that, it was a punch in the gut as though just seeing her bruises was the same as him getting them. In fact, he wished all of those bruises had happened to him instead, they would hurt less. He couldn’t believe someone could hurt her like that. “Hey,” he said finally. She stopped looking around and met his eyes.

             “This place feels empty,” she said.

             “It was for me too, until last night,” he whispered hoarsely. “So uh, I tried to run a few errands this morning, but it took longer than I thought it would. But I got you some soap, and some new clothes and shoes and a few other things you might need. Should tide us over for a few days until you’re ready to go shop with me. I confess I’m not as good at picking sizes or styles so hopefully something will fit you that you’ll like.”

             “Thank you,” she said simply, coming over to the counter and looking through the rest of the bags. “I owe you.”

             “No, you don’t,” he said softly. “All of this was because of your pictures anyways; you don’t owe me anything. Really, I’m the one that owes you everything.” He reached out and ran his thumb over the bruise on her upper arm. “Who hurt you? I want to-” He felt a rush of anger.

             “No!” she yelled and ripped her arm out of his grip. It had been so sudden and so loud it had made him jump. He was sure he’d even seen Artoo duck under the sofa too and he didn’t really blame him. She backed away from him, her eyes wide. “Don’t do that, don’t become like them.”

            She dropped down to a crouching position and covered her head, and it was a moment before he realized she was counting. Shit! Why the fuck had he let his anger get the better of him? Of course, she’d notice that! Oh great, oh great. He didn’t know what to do. He started to move towards her and then he remembered what she’d said about things reaching out at her and disrupting the focus on what calmed her down.

            He dropped to his knees instead, leaving the distance between them. He tried to stay quiet, to let her calm herself down before trying to speak again. Part of him thought maybe he should leave her alone and give her space, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away because he still wanted her to know he was here even if he didn’t know how to comfort her.

            After a few minutes of sitting uncomfortably, unsure of how long it would last, he got off his knees and sat down completely, leaning back against the kitchen cabinets. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. He felt terrible, both for causing this but also for not ever doing the research to know how to help. He hadn’t really needed to before. The three days he’d been with her before, he wouldn’t have ever known that she had a mental disorder because she was so high functioning. But that was his own stupidity, that it never occurred to him it wouldn’t always be like that. And of course, after living on the streets for so long, things might not get back to that for awhile.

            Not like he planned to go anywhere or kick her out just because she wasn’t the same happy fascinating person he’d known before. It just made him sad, and angry. But he’d have to keep a check on his anger if he really wanted to help her now.

            His mind drifted back to that night where she’d taught him how to see differently, when she’d stolen his vision with the blindfold and opened up everything else. He took a deep breath and tried to feel for her in the air around him, relaxing into the experience of listening and becoming aware. He heard Artoo, wherever he was, roll over and lick himself. Apparently having calmed down a little bit from the surprise of the outburst. He heard his own heart beating. He heard the muffled sounds of traffic and honking and airplanes outside. He became hyper aware of her counting and he lifted his hand in her direction.

            It suddenly felt like he was in that dark room she’d described before. And that he was looking around and could see her some distance away. He started moving towards her, through the shadows, shoving them out of the way. He tried to be a light for her, tried to be something she’d see coming. He didn’t get too close, but close enough there were no more shadows between them. And he forced himself brighter still, to expand the space she had in the light so she could breathe again and stop feeling like everything was closing in around her.

            For a few minutes he just stood there, trying to be a guardian for her, trying to give her the strength to stand up again and face the shadows now that they were farther away. Then he felt her hand press up against the one he still had outstretched. Her fingers weaved between his. He wanted to open his eyes, but he just smiled instead.

             “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I guess I forgot for awhile, how to be your light. I should have been there for you.”

             “You were,” she breathed. “On every street corner and in every shop window. But I didn’t like their version of you as much. It was cold and had no heart.”

            “That’s probably because you were the only one that ever cared enough to find it,” he choked up a bit at the realization. It was true, his three-day photography session with her had been the only time since his mother died, he’d forgotten what it was like to be what the world expected him to be.

            He blinked and opened his eyes, wiping away the moisture with his other hand. “You’re the only person that’s ever come into the dark room,” she said finally.

            “I didn’t know what else to do, but I still wanted to help.”

            “You did.” She sat down next to him.

            “I’ll try to be more careful from here on out. I just couldn’t believe people could hurt you like that and I lost control.”

            “People always hurt what they don’t understand.” She looked down and played with the hair on her still bare legs.

            “You’re right about that,” he muttered, blowing air out the side of his mouth. “Not that I mind you naked, but we should get you dressed. Ben might stop by later. And I still owe you a donut.”

            He got to his feet and reached out a hand to help her up. As shocking as her episode had been, it probably could have been a lot worse. It really amazed him how much she’d taught him just in three days together. And maybe even infuriated him on some level how little instruction was necessary for interacting with someone in her situation and people still couldn’t manage it. All it took was a willingness to listen. He still didn’t like thinking about it as a disorder even if it was classified as one. That implied there was something wrong with her. The reality was, they were all messed up in different ways and she just saw the world differently. But after the things she’d taught him, he actually kinda thought the way she saw it was better than what was ‘normal’. He smirked to himself as he thought about her lecture on weeds before. He would be the first to admit a new perspective on things wasn’t really a bad thing.

            “Here, I think these are the bags with clothes. Hopefully there’s something in there you’ll like.” He pushed a couple of them towards her. She thanked him and started digging in, he kind of chuckled to himself that she’d stuck her whole head in the first one. It was very catlike.

            She pulled out a bright floral and flowy sundress and held it up in front of her. He’d thought he was done shopping when he’d seen it and had to go back to buy it. He’d immediately thought it suited her and couldn’t resist. So it made him feel good that was the first thing she’d seemed to latch onto. It was shorter in the front than the back and had several layers of fabric draped on top of each other, with the top being spaghetti straps and a simple blouse type with buttons.

            She put it up against herself and twirled around, seeming to enjoy the way the skirt rolled through the air when she did so. She giggled when Artoo pounced on the draping strings and then she threw it over her head and slipped into it. She ran into the bedroom he assumed to look at herself in the mirror and it was his turn to laugh as Artoo chased after the trailers.

            He leaned against the doorframe and watched as she admired the dress in her reflection and occasionally got distracted dangling the ribbons for his goofy cat. It didn’t fit her quite right in her current condition but it still looked really good on her and he couldn’t help but admire the view. If only clothes had been enough to make him happy all these months.

            He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and headed out to the balcony. He didn’t really want to smoke but he needed it to calm down after what had just happened. It gave him something else to think about for a bit. He leaned down on the railing and stared absentmindedly out at the city as he often did while he puffed away his future.

            Admittedly he felt a bit guilty that he’d somehow expected finding her again would fix everything and there’d be nothing but joy, color and magic from here on out. He’d thought he’d walk right into that studio, whisk her off her feet and they’d fall right back into that beautiful escape. So yeah, maybe Ben had been right that he was being stupid and rash to chase after that memory, but he didn’t regret going after her even knowing it was going to take awhile for them to find that again. Maybe they never would, who was to say? Maybe he’d just been living in this daydream of a whirlwind romance and had no idea what a real committed relationship with someone was like.

            He’d never given much thought to marriage before he’d started dating Padmé anyways. Their relationship had gotten serious fast and sometimes it felt like Ben had wanted him to get on proposing right away. He still wasn’t sure if that was to help further his career or if it was so Ben no longer felt obligated to take care of him twenty-four/seven. As much as he’d missed Ahsoka, he’d honestly considered marrying Padmé, assuming their relationship would just go there. The rational part of his brain knew she was the practical choice, the one that would organize his life and keep him straight and successful. And of course, she was a big part of his daily meal ticket.

            Uh oh... he hadn’t even thought about that when he’d broken up with her. So much of his current work was wrapped up in modeling her new men’s clothing line. Surely she wouldn’t be petty enough to fire him just because their personal relationship ended?

            He sighed and rubbed his eyes, puffing out the last of his cigarette before pushing it into the ashtray on the railing. Was it weird to think his life had been better eight months ago? Before the fame, the money and the complications? Before he’d had the taste of all the things that screamed success? Back when he was free to have a whirlwind romance with a girl he’d just met, never knowing what the next day would bring?

            He did feel more hopeful with Ahsoka here again though. Less empty, less lost. He just didn’t know how to look at all the bruises and not be reminded of everything that had happened in the meantime. And yeah, the bruises would fade, but he doubted the guilt ever would. Would they be happy together? If she even wanted to be with him? What if she didn’t? Then what? Had he thrown his entire future away chasing a wistful fantasy?

            He turned around and saw her standing there in the doorway. She wasn’t dancing or twirling or smiling. She blinked up at him and he swallowed the lump in his throat, praying it wasn’t possible for her to know the thoughts that had drifted through his head just now. “So, do you, uh, like the dress?” He tried to change the subject and hoped she wouldn’t notice. “When I saw it in the store, I had to go back for it. I think it fits you.”

            “It’s lovely,” she said, but there wasn’t much emotion in her voice. She walked past him to the ash tray and picked up the butt of his cigarette and turned it over in her fingers.

            “I, uh... needed to calm down.” He flinched as soon as he said it. Great, now she knew that he was stressed and uncomfortable with how to handle something she couldn’t control.

            She dropped it back into the ashtray and turned to lean on the railing, the slight summer breeze blew through the air, playing with her short curly hair and ruffling her dress. “When you look out at the city, what do you see?” she asked.

            He turned and leaned down next to her and absorbed the view. “I don’t know,” he murmured honestly. “Just a lot of stuff that doesn’t interest me. People out there, places to go, things to do. Everyone has a direction and meanwhile I’m just standing still, like I can’t move.”

            “A million people see your face but hardly anyone knows your name, or your story.”

            “Yeah, pretty much,” he sighed at the depressing thought.

            “So what’s the point of being seen if no one wants to see you?”

            He glanced at her, wondering what she was getting at. “Money, I guess. Fame, success, a gorgeous penthouse? Things that scream you made it!” He threw up his hands.

            “So it matters more that they think you made it, than what you see?” She turned around and leaned her back against the railing and stared at his apartment. “They think you have it all, but you just have an empty box.”

            “I guess,” he said, dropping his head down on his arms.

            “The only box I see, is the one in your head,” she breathed.

            He lifted his head and looked at her. “But you’re the one that keeps saying this place feels empty.”

            She reached out and put her hand on his chest. “That’s because you’re not here. They are.” She dropped her hand. “They covered you with makeup and you hid.”

            “What am I supposed to do? I’m just their mannequin, their canvas, their tool. You said it yourself, they see my face but don’t care who I am. That’s the whole business! You’re everywhere and nowhere. Important and unimportant. How are you supposed to be yourself when that’s not what they want?” he complained.

            She handed him a washcloth he hadn’t even noticed she’d been carrying. “Wipe it off.”

Chapter Text

          He looked down when his phone started ringing, slightly embarrassed but also confused that it was Padmé’s ringtone playing. It was a popular song by Taylor something, he didn’t care for it, but his ex had decided it was their song. “Love Story” it was called. It had often led her to call him Romeo because he’d ‘swept her off her feet.’ While the song itself was a more positive spin on that story, their current situation made romanticizing the story of Romeo and Juliet somewhat ironic. 

          “I uh, should take this,” he said to Ahsoka. “My boss,” he added quickly, hoping she wasn’t familiar with the song or what it meant. He hadn’t even gotten to thinking about how to explain to her that in the eight months they’d been apart, he’d seriously considered marrying someone else. “Hey,” he said, as Padmé appeared on the screen. He looked over it at Ahsoka who was standing there watching him as Padmé skipped any real greeting and immediately launched into her latest crisis, the old deadpan expression back on her face.

          He felt a rush of guilt and turned to wander to the far end of the balcony hoping that Ahsoka would get bored and go back inside. But he was almost certain he could still feel her watching him. “This is a disaster!” Padmé was saying when he tried to ignore how uncomfortable he suddenly felt and focus on her. “I’m down a photographer for my big show! I’ve called everyone I can think of, but nobody can make it. I even tried Mr. Koon since he bailed me out last time, but he had to leave town for a family emergency.”

          “Padmé,” he tried to interrupt, but it didn’t matter. It never worked when she got into this state. In fact, it got him wondering if she’d forgotten all about their breakup the other day. This had been a normal part of their relationship. She was very passionate about what she did, and while he’d always admired that about her, it led to many, many, panics over seemingly minor details. In fairness though, missing a lead photographer for your biggest fashion show of the season was anything but a minor detail. As far as he understood it, the pictures were how you sold the garments to the public and they needed to be good. 

          He turned around as she went on about how horrible this was for her career and everything and saw that Ahsoka was still outside but had sat down on one of the loungers. She wasn’t staring at him as intensely, but he was somehow sure she was eavesdropping despite him wandering some distance away. 

          He just happened to have a talented photographer right in front of him, but he worried about bringing her not just closer to his ex but putting her into such a stressful situation after having just been on the street for over half a year. He knew she had the skills to do it, but…

          “Padmé,” he tried interrupting her again when she finally took a breath. “Let me ask around and call you back.” After finally managing to hang up with her, he made his way back to Ahsoka. She’d sat back against the lounge chair and put her feet up, closing her eyes. The washcloth she’d tried to give him still in her hands. In fact, it kind of looked like she’d been randomly squeezing it because there were wet spots on her dress. “Um,” he started nervously, sitting down on the other chair and looking her over. “I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell you yet that I have a show tonight.” He looked down and played with his fingers. “And as you probably overheard, they’re uh, short a photographer for the event. I know it’s a lot to ask, but-”

          His attention dropped to the floor when it sounded like a stream of water hit it. It took a minute to realize she’d twisted and squeezed the washcloth so tightly that nearly every drop had just dumped down through her skirt onto the deck.

          “Are you okay?” he whispered. He was somehow certain that what she’d just done was a panic response even though she’d shown very little expression on her face. She didn’t respond, but she did slightly release the death grip she had on the towel.

          “I’m not ready,” she croaked finally.

          “It’s okay, the show doesn’t start until six and call time isn’t until three,” he murmured, looking at his watch. It was only ten at the moment.

          He saw her tense out of the corner of his eye and looked up again. “I’m not ready,” she repeated, slower this time as if he hadn’t understood her the first time. He raised a brow wondering what she actually meant. He was so used to Padmé, he’d just assumed she was talking about getting dressed and ready to walk out the door or something. He watched her squeeze the towel again, somehow dripping more water out of it, but also making her knuckles lighter from the sheer force of what she was doing. 

          “It’s okay,” he said finally, hoping to get her to relax her grip before she cut off circulation to her hands or something. “I can ask a few others I’ve worked with recently. I want you to rest and recover from what you’ve been through.”

          “I don’t know what to wear or where it is. I haven’t done my hair, will there be traffic? What if I don’t know the right places to stand? I don’t have a camera anymore! What if I forgot how to use it?” She suddenly had so many panicked thoughts tumbling out of her mouth that he didn’t even know where to start answering her. They were things he’d never even thought of, like the directions to the place or the exact amount of time it would take for each step of getting ready. She panicked about unfamiliar equipment, working with people she’d never met, the way the lights would be set up and what if she wanted to move them. Would there be backup SD cards? Extra batteries? Before launching into every reason she didn’t think she could do it.

          He was taken so off-guard by the jumbled mess that fell from her lips that he just sat there working his mouth for a couple minutes before he managed to speak. Padmé was a stickler for details, but this went completely beyond anything he’d heard from her. It seemed in most cases, she just wanted reassurance while fretting over it. But Ahsoka seemed genuinely panicked about things he’d never considered being an issue.

          “Ahsoka,” he managed finally, trying to gently interrupt her. Her eyes were wide like they’d been this morning when she’d woken from her nightmare. He wanted to reach out to touch her but had a feeling it wasn’t the proper response. “Hey! It’s okay!” he said a bit louder, but trying to refrain from it coming off as anger. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to do this. I didn’t realize it would be so stressful for you. I’m sorry I asked.”

          “But I can, I just-” She glanced around like she was looking for something to reach for or hold onto, or maybe a way to escape or move. He wasn’t completely sure. All he knew was that he really needed to learn more about Autism so he could better support her. Seeing the terror in her eyes over something that shouldn’t have been terrible at all, wrenched his insides with guilt. 

          He slid off the chair and walked over to her on his knees, wanting desperately to catch her hands even if it wasn’t the right response right now. He just didn’t know how he was supposed to stand back and watch when she was clearly scared or hurting or something. All he wanted was to comfort her somehow, someway.

          It took a minute before he managed it, and she seemed to freeze completely once he did. She stared at him somewhat wild-eyed but thankfully didn’t jerk them away. He tried to smile reassuringly at her, rubbing his thumbs softly across them. “You are amazing,” he breathed, hoping his tone would help calm her down. He could almost swear he could hear her heart still racing even though he still wasn’t super close to her. “You’re the best photographer I know, and I’ve worked with a lot of them. I know you can do this, that you have everything you need to do it. But I want you to be sure you’re ready.” He squeezed her hands softly, noticing her shoulders relax slightly when he did. “You have no reason to feel guilty if you decide you’re not today, okay? No matter what she said about it, it’s really not the end of the world for anything if she’s short a photographer tonight. The only thing it delays is when she can get the pictures of her new line out. People will buy them anyways. It’s not your responsibility or mine to fix this situation for her. But if you want to try, I’ll be with you every step of the way. I was um, kind of hoping you’d come anyways, but I know it’s a lot to ask after what you’ve been through.”

          “I will,” she said finally. For a second it felt like she was trying to bunch her hands into a fist and he thought maybe he should let go, but then he realized she shifted hers, so she had a grip on his instead. She squeezed them hard, almost painfully so. Despite how it took him off-guard, he didn’t pull away. He wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing, or why, but after what he’d seen her do to the washcloth, he could only assume she had some kind of need to touch, squeeze or move her hands in response to the stress or panic. He vaguely remembered hearing something about that before, but he wasn’t confident he remembered enough to be useful with that. So, the best he could do for her right now was trying to power through it however she needed to hold him. It felt important not to pull away right now.

          “How can I help you get ready?” he asked finally, deciding not to contradict her or suggest she shouldn’t after all. “It sounded like you had a lot of questions, maybe I can answer them for you.” She nodded slowly, looking a bit relieved. “Why don’t we get some paper, and I can draw out the layout of the building for you? Or at least as much as I remember, would that help?”

          She nodded again and after another sort of painful squeeze of his hands, she released him, following him back inside. He ignored the marks her nails had left on his hands figuring the makeup crew could deal with that later if necessary. At least she hadn’t drawn blood, even if he probably deserved it for even suggesting she do this tonight. 

          He quickly texted Padmé that he found a photographer for her and then put his phone on silent. She’d have to adapt to whatever this would mean no matter how much of a fuss she made over it. Right now, his focus was on Ahsoka and helping her through the things she’d panicked over. 

          They sat down side by side at the kitchen island after he’d retrieved a pile of paper from the printer and a few pens from his desk. He drew out the layout of the room where the fashion show would be held as best as he could remember. He pointed out where the lights were, where guests would be sitting, the backstage area, where they planned to do the posed pictures and every other detail he could think of or that she asked about. 

          He wrote down the schedule they’d rehearsed multiple times already, helping her figure out where she’d need to be and when for whatever event. Then they went over the planned route to the hotel ballroom, where they’d park, how far they’d have to walk, which way they had to go in and even where she could rest if she needed. She’d also asked about number of people expected and level of noise and he made a mental note to take his headphones for her. All of it felt like way more information than was necessary but if it helped her, it didn’t bother him to go through it. Though admittedly, he found himself wondering if this was a recent change in her or something she’d always needed, and he hadn’t noticed before.

          She’d seemed so spontaneous during their three-day session so long ago, but come to think of it, even their trip out had seemed somewhat pre-planned. At least until it started raining and they’d had to change their direction. Maybe he’d just been so enamored by her overwhelming uniqueness, he hadn’t noticed any of the internal conflict or she’d hidden it better then. He did remember many times during those three days wondering what it was that she had because she seemed so… fine… 

          Maybe that was part of it too? Maybe she could hide it better in situations she’s more familiar with? He’d never gotten many details about her daily life while they’d been together, but he remembered a fairly strong impression it was very routine. The only differences each day were the way she dressed or did up her hair. Though it was entirely possible he was misremembering it or trying to explain away what he didn’t understand. 

          Around two, he helped her pick out what to wear. Everything he’d bought her was bright and colorful, trying his best to match similar styles he’d seen her in before. It hadn’t occurred to him at the time to get her a suit or something more appropriate for the job, but it also hadn’t crossed his mind that she’d be anything other than a backstage guest if she ended up wanting to come. He genuinely didn’t care if she wasn’t dressed the way most photographers dress at fashion shows, but he was already mentally prepping his response to Padmé when she inevitably commented on it.

          Ahsoka let him brush her hair again, but to his surprise, she chose not to style it at all. When he asked why, she said she didn’t like it getting grabbed. While her response had been simple and matter of fact, it had sent him reeling. He’d simply assumed she’d chopped off her hair once it had started growing out since she couldn’t re-dye it while living on the street. Or maybe even because it had become too hard to maintain. It had never once occurred to him that people would dare try to grab her by the multiple braids or ponytails she usually wore. 

          He had to lock himself in the bathroom for a few minutes after that revelation just to calm down and try to work out his anger without scaring her. It was another thing he’d never asked about but he’d felt her hair had been really important to her. She’d always kept it long and clean, spending probably a long time each day to brush and style it however she liked. To have that stolen from her… in more ways than one… genuinely pissed him off. 

          He didn’t know how he was supposed to get a grip on that bubbling rage and was even more determined to seek out help once they survived the night. It would be good for her to have someone to work through the trauma with, as much as he wished he could do it himself, but it would be good for him too. He’d never seriously considered getting professional help before, but from the moment he found out what had happened to her following that portrait session eight months ago, he’d known it was time. 

          Maybe at first, he’d secretly hoped they’d just fall back into that whirlwind romance, and it would fix everything for him, at least. But now he knew it wasn’t remotely fair to expect her to fix him or even hope those things would fix themselves just because she was here again. And more than that, the few brief glimpses he’d gotten from how deep the pain went for her since being reunited, made him want to be better for her more. 

          Whatever fantasy he’d been living in from those memories didn’t matter nearly as much now. He’d been willing to throw everything away to find her again, he was committed to doing this right. He would never forgive himself if he messed her up more. He wanted to be her light, he’d meant what he’d said to her. He wanted to be hers because he knew no matter if she had a bad day or not, she’d always be his. And she deserved it. More than most, if he were honest with himself. Maybe that wasn’t a great way to think, but he didn’t care. People with disorders or disabilities already had it harder than most. It wasn’t fair. And he might not have any power to change that. But he could change his own thoughts and his own actions. And that’s what he planned to do.

          When he finally pulled himself together, he left the bathroom. He found her laying on her stomach with her left arm under the couch in the living room, presumably petting Artoo who’d retreated there earlier. “Hey,” he smiled at her when she looked up at him. “You ready to go?”

          She nodded, rising off the floor and stretching much like he’d seen his cat do a million times. She’d chosen to wear a pair of flared jeans with lace down the sides, sandals and a floral green blouse that had puffy sleeves. As usual, she looked good in everything she wore but he still felt a twinge of sorrow about her hair. 

          He stepped closer to her, reaching out to touch it. She looked up at him as he ran his fingers through it gently. It never ceased to amaze him how it appeared curly and wavy or wiry at the same time but was soft, silky and fluffy. It had similarities to African fros but wasn’t the same texture. Or quite as voluminous. He still wondered just what her ancestry was. Maybe Hawaiian or something? He wasn’t sure since he’d never been there himself. 

          He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead, hoping he wasn’t overstepping some invisible line, but she seemed to lean into the touch. It also occurred to him that her allowing him to touch her hair must be special if she was so scared of people pulling on it. He’d never even asked her when he brought her home again, all he wanted was to take care of her. But she genuinely seemed to like him doing it and not simply tolerating it like Padmé had. 

          He pulled her into his arms and held her for a moment, trying to calm the overwhelming thoughts constantly buzzing in his brain.

          “Thank you,” she whispered suddenly, her fingers digging into his back a bit. “For uh, everything.”

          “You’re welcome,” he breathed, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. 

          “People never like to explain things to me,” she said, burying her face in his chest. “But I feel better knowing ahead of time.”

          “I can understand that,” he murmured. “Maybe I don’t think as much about the details as you do, but it didn’t bother me at all to go through it. Come to think of it, it was a good distraction from my normal pre-show jitters.”

          “Like smoking?” she asked, looking up at him. 

          “That, or throwing up, or fussing about my appearance.” He shrugged. Then he handed her his noise cancelling headphones off the counter. “They don’t block out everything, but they have Bluetooth if you want to listen to music or anything when stuff gets loud. We’ll get you some better ones at some point.” He handed her his phone too so she could set up the music if she wanted. 

          Then he grabbed the bag he packed and together they headed out the door. She seemed to be enjoying the headphones and in better spirits as they got into his truck to drive to the hotel ballroom where the fashion show would be. He dropped her off out front while he went to go park the car, figuring she’d just head into the lobby as they’d discussed earlier. 

          As he was coming back around the building however, he heard some guy being belligerent and annoying, and he had to catch himself when he saw that it was to Ahsoka. She appeared to be trying to ignore his advances but had still drawn herself in as much as possible against the wall instead of fleeing inside. 

          “Hey asshole,” he called when he was a few feet away. “Leave her alone.”

          “What are you? Her boyfriend?” The guy taunted in response, putting his arm against the wall to block her in.

          “It doesn’t matter if I am or not. Treat her with respect or I’ll treat you to a broken nose.” He made himself as big and as intimidating as he possibly could, setting down the bag he was carrying and rolling up his sleeves.

          The guy, several inches shorter than him, looked him over before finally backing up. “Fine, whatever, dude.”

          “And don’t go chasing someone else instead, they don’t want you either!” he called after him. The guy ignored him and disappeared down the street. He just glared after him until he was out of sight. Then he turned back to Ahsoka. “Are you alright?” he asked softer. She nodded, but looked away, rubbing her arms. “I take it you’ve dealt with people like that before.” It wasn’t a question.

          “I used to punch them,” she whispered. “Now I just freeze.”

          “Maybe later tonight, I’ll help you brush up on those moves,” he murmured. “I have a punching bag in my gym. I’ll need to blow off some steam anyways.”

          She looked up at him again. “You hate this.” It also wasn’t a question. 

          “Hate is a strong word, but I’m not looking forward to it tonight, that’s for sure.”

          She held up his phone like she was offering it back to him. “Your girlfriend called. Several times.”

          He stared at the list of missed calls. “She’s my ex,” he said finally. “We broke up. But um, she’s still my boss for now.” It was his turn to look away feeling guilty. So much for keeping them separate. “You can mute it though, it’s not important enough to interrupt your music.” He nodded to her to hold onto it. Under normal circumstances, he might have been worried what she might find if she went through his phone, but the only part he’d been hesitant to tell her about, she seemed to already know. The only thing left would be pictures of them together he hadn’t removed yet.

Chapter Text

          “There you are, Ani!” He felt a bit like he’d been pounced on the moment they walked into the ballroom. “I called you at least a dozen times!”

          “I uh, didn’t have my phone,” he murmured, glancing at Ahsoka and hoping she wouldn’t contradict him. While it was technically true that he didn’t have his phone because she did, it was probably best not to mention it was still nearby and he could’ve answered it if he’d wanted to. Though Ahsoka also hadn’t mentioned Padmé kept calling so… maybe not. 

          Ahsoka, however, was just staring at Padmé with that deadpan expression back on her face. He wasn’t sure if that was just her default or if it was the face she put on subconsciously when dealing with difficult or high maintenance people. She’d certainly made it many times those first three days, usually when Ben was around or when she was meeting someone. He was suddenly sure her reaction to Padmé would be much the same as it had been for his agent. They were similarly dramatic in many ways. 

          Though now that they were face to face, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d fallen so hard for two women who couldn’t possibly be more different if they tried. He’d been so hopelessly taken by Ahsoka’s unique perspectives, style and talent, along with the unexpected vulnerabilities and the way she’d opened up just for him. So how had he fallen into such a serious relationship with someone else who, while naturally talented, was overall fairly typical within the industry he worked in?

          “Um, Padmé, this is Ahsoka,” he said finally, directing her attention from pestering him about missing her calls. “She’s the photographer I told you about.” His ex looked finally towards Ahsoka and did her usual quick scan of her before putting out her hand.

          “Nice to meet you,” she said, though he’d felt the stiffness in her words. He already knew what was coming. Padmé met new people every day, she had the ability to judge how useful they’d be to her in a matter of moments. It must have been something she’d developed over the course of her career, since so much success in fashion depended on networking. “Thank you for stepping in last minute.”

          Ahsoka didn’t really respond to her, but she did tentatively reach out and shake her hand. Though he was quite certain she made a face about it the moment Padmé looked away. He knew she wasn’t a fan of being touched, but it did make him wonder if everyone felt like darkness or evil reaching out to her. Or if she was actually responding somewhat in jealousy. She’d given no hints thus far that she really cared one way or another what his relationship was or had been with Padmé. Even when she’d pointed out the missed calls and referred to her as his girlfriend, she hadn’t sounded jealous. Just that she was stating a fact as she understood it at the time. 

          Admittedly, he did sometimes wonder if she’d ever expected, hoped or even wanted to have any long-term relationship with him. Maybe he was getting way ahead of himself, but it was hard to gauge with her sometimes. She’d seemed to open up to him before and didn’t seem to fear being vulnerable with him now, but he had no idea what that meant when it came to romance. It wasn’t that he regretted going after her, nor would he ever shame her if it turned out she didn’t want him that way, but it did cause a lot of insecurities making their way through his brain. His main goal right now was simply to make sure she felt safe and had a sanctuary while she figured out where to go and how to recover. 

          And while he’d willingly offer that to her a million times over, it truthfully hadn’t been exactly what he’d been hoping for when he’d made the decision to go back for her. He’d hoped to pick up where they left off and potentially grow into something much more serious and maybe permanent. All of that had gone out the window, however, the moment he’d found out she’d been living on the street. Obviously, he still wanted their relationship to go there, but his priorities definitely shifted. 

          Now that these thoughts were going through his brain, he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d answer him if he asked about them or if there was a future for them. But he also couldn’t bring himself to do that until he had a chance to talk to a therapist too, because there was so much he didn’t know or understand about autism and maybe all these thoughts were completely superfluous because that wasn’t how it worked for them at all. 

          He shook his thoughts and focused back on Padmé. He needed to appreciate what he had with Ahsoka right now, regardless of the future. And he was grateful that she seemed to feel safe with him despite everything she’d been through. He wanted to always ensure that would be the case. 

          “Have you shot a fashion show before?” Padmé asked.

          “No,” Ahsoka replied simply, but chose not to give any additional details.

          “Oh, well…” His ex looked back at him in concern. “Ani, can I have a word?” Padmé continued finally. “In private?”

          “Uh yeah, sure,” he murmured. “Ahsoka, why don’t you look around and get a better feel for the layout?” Ahsoka nodded to him and wandered some distance away, but he had a feeling she’d still be able to hear anything Padmé said. He should have given her something to squeeze or better yet, told her to turn the music back on.

          “Not to sound ungrateful or anything,” Padmé started cautiously, and he finally turned his full attention back to her. He’d known this was coming but he’d hoped it wouldn’t. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just hired a homeless person to be the photographer tonight.” His fists tightened a bit, some without his control. He knew it was completely accidental that she’d hit so close to the truth, but it didn’t stop it from bothering him. 

          He forced himself to take a deep breath and level himself out before responding. No anger anymore, not unless it was truly warranted. “I swear to you, she’s good at what she does. I know she doesn’t look like what you’d expect, but you won’t be sorry about the results.”

          “I hope she brought different clothes for the event!” Padmé said, sounding somewhat snobby. He squeezed his eyes shut. He knew she didn’t mean to come off that way, despite her clear upper-class lifestyle and background, Padmé didn’t look down on anyone. But maybe he was just overly protective of Ahsoka now and that’s why these things were riling him so much. 

          She had every right to ask such a question. In normal circumstances, photographers at fashion shows were supposed to be invisible. It was just the reality of the gig. They usually dressed in all black or mostly black, were expected to move about in the shadows and not draw attention away from the models and, more importantly, the product. The clothes themselves. While they were vital to the line’s overall success, they were still background characters. And Ahsoka- he glanced in her direction- was wearing brightly colored clothes with distracting patterns and currently moving about in the direct lighting where she’d be easily seen by guests. She also happened to have bright white headphones on that contrasted completely with her black hair and no actual camera equipment, just her fingers for practicing framing shots. 

          “I’m afraid this was all she had available to wear on short notice,” he said finally. “I know it’s not what you’d prefer, but it will have to do.” He was well aware how out of place she looked in such a fancy ballroom full of classy and expensive decorations. 

          “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but how could you hire someone that’s never done this before? I feel like you’re purposely trying to sabotage me, and I don’t understand why. I thought I responded quite reasonably to your breakup.” He looked back at Padmé in surprise. What? That’s how she saw this? Of all the answers he’d prepared for her concerns, that hadn’t even occurred to him as being a problem.

          His mouth worked a few times, but he couldn’t make sound. He even glanced back at Ahsoka as if he hoped she could somehow bail him out. Which was ridiculous, because she had her own issues right now. “I don’t know what you mean,” he managed finally, looking back at her. “That wasn’t even a thought in my mind. You asked for a photographer, I brought you a photographer. I would assume you’d feel grateful but instead you’re saying I’m sabotaging you,” he continued indignantly.

          “But a no-name? With no experience, no equipment and not even a suit? You can’t be serious, Ani!” she practically wailed. Though it was a quiet and dignified wail, if you could call it that. Enough to be pointed but not have everybody in the room looking in their direction. Though he had noticed that Ahsoka had stopped what she was doing and looked back towards them. Oh great!

          “Padmé,” he started carefully, though somewhat through gritted teeth. “She may not look the part, but she will give you exactly what you need. Probably even better. She has a real gift, and it got squandered before she had a chance to show it to the world. And maybe her name is not well known in the business yet, but she’s not a nobody. She was mentoring under Plo Koon himself.”

          “But I’ve met Mister Koon’s assistant and…” she trailed off, her eyes widening. “Her, Ani? You can’t be serious! She nearly ruined his business! And now she might ruin mine!” Padmé turned, and plopped somehow still gracefully, into a nearby chair. Maybe she’s the one that should have taken up acting… He rolled his eyes while she fanned herself as if suddenly faint. 

          He straightened, no longer willing to be polite just to get through the night. “I stake my whole career on her, Padmé,” he said. “If you don’t like the pictures, I will never accept another modeling job the rest of my life. She’s good, better than most in this industry. She’s the one that took my portfolio pictures. Mister Koon took credit for them, but he was here, taking pictures for you when I had them done. She got blamed for something she didn’t do and now everybody thinks she’s some kind of black mark on the industry. Well, you’re wrong. You’re all wrong. But if you don’t believe me, you’ll be out a model tonight too.”

          Padmé looked up at him, her brown eyes wide in surprise. “You can’t be serious,” she mumbled.

          “I am. Give her a chance or you lose both of us tonight.”

          “But… but…” She struggled to come up with any kind of response to his challenge and then suddenly she narrowed her eyes. “She’s the one?” she whispered. He furrowed his brow, what was she talking about now? Padmé suddenly stood up. “Fine. But I swear to you, Ani, if this turns into a catastrophe because you dragged your new girlfriend here to take pictures for me, I’ll make sure you never get another modeling job in this city.”

          She stormed away before he could even respond to what she’d just said. All he could do was stare after her in surprise and confusion. He’d have never thought of Padmé as the jealous type, nor had he thought he’d even remotely indicated that him and Ahsoka were anything more than friends. And yet, she’d somehow jumped to the conclusion that he was flaunting his new ‘girlfriend’ in front of her as if his relationship with her had meant nothing. 

          Now he was the one that needed to sit down. He ran his fingers through his hair before trying to pull himself together. He knew Ben wouldn’t be happy with him for gambling his whole career like this, especially with someone that had the credibility to do exactly what she threatened. While Padmé was in no way an evil person, it was fairly well known that any model that didn’t meet her high standards tended to work only mediocre jobs afterwards, often leaving the business altogether. It was almost like a rite of passage in the business to have modeled for her. And certainly, a jumping off point for all sorts of other opportunities afterwards. Padmé had very much become the gold standard in the New York fashion world.

          Unfortunately, that in turn, had put a lot of pressure on her to keep standards high. While he was very protective of Ahsoka, he knew the things she’d said about her weren’t from a place of intolerance or cruelty, it was her own fears getting the better of her. And maybe her own hurt too.

          Admittedly, he hadn’t really considered her feelings in regard to their relationship and how it ended. He’d been so focused on his own misery and clearly didn't have a clue how other people felt about him. Had Padmé truly believed he was the one for her? Or had she just been shaken up by the sudden and unexpected breakup?

          He looked up when Ahsoka appeared in his vision. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have- I don’t know!” She blinked and looked away.

          He caught her hand before she could run, hoping she didn’t really think she should leave. “Hey,” he breathed, standing up and taking her other hand when she turned around. “You have nothing to apologize for. This is my mess and I’m dragging everyone through it. I’m the one that’s sorry. Whatever you overheard, it isn’t what it seems.” He pulled her closer and kissed her softly on the forehead. “Turns out I’m not as smart as I think I am.” He heard her cough like he caught her off-guard with that statement or she was trying to hide that it made her laugh. He smiled to himself. “I feel like I have a lot of explaining to do.”

          “You don’t.” She shook her head but then buried her face in his chest. “I’m not used to people sticking around.” She straightened, looking like she usually did when she dropped a bombshell on him. Then she turned and headed towards the door to backstage where they were supposed to be right now. 

          He rolled his lips and picked up the bag again, following after her. So… that was where they stood? If she had hoped they’d have a relationship, it was smothered by her own belief that nobody would put up with her forever. He felt even worse now, leaving her behind. For never coming back to find her, for letting her believe all this time he would just be another temporary presence in her life. 

          He sat at his station while Padmé went over her expectations with the makeup and dressing crew, running through the order and details once again. He tried not to think as someone covered up his scar again and he was fitted into his first outfit of the show. He was vaguely aware of Ahsoka pacing around in the background, avoiding eye contact with everyone while simultaneously trying not to look like she was watching everything. 

          They’d found her an extra camera, and she’d immediately spent the entire time it took to get ready, clicking through every button and setting it had. To the point she’d gotten a few dirty looks from other stressed production folks for the constant clicking sounds. Eventually she’d retreated to the far side of the room making repeated movements and walking back and forth on her tiptoes. He could see her mouth moving as if she were talking to herself, but she seemed completely oblivious to everything and everyone else. 

          He wasn’t completely sure he knew what she was doing but he was sure it was caused by nerves even if she hid it in her face. And when he finally got a break from the table, he pulled a small vacuum out of the bag he’d brought and headed her way. It was something he’d bought on a whim after his first real paycheck, but it had made him think of her. To everyone else, it would seem like an insane thing to give her, but he hoped she’d understand the gift. 

          He was careful to approach her when she was facing his direction and tried his best to give her warning he was coming but opted not to reach out and touch her right then. It took a minute for her to acknowledge him, and she looked him over like he was a total stranger and she didn’t recognize him. Regrettably he couldn’t remove the makeup for her this time. 

          “I uh, brought you this,” he said softly, holding up the Dustbuster. “I figured you might need help dispelling negative energy tonight.”

          She looked down at the vacuum and then almost mechanically reached out to take it from him. 

          “Probably not a good idea to use it during the show, but maybe it will help for the portraits.”

          He watched her fingers tighten around the handle and her thumb slide across the switch turning it on. He smiled at her when she waved it around him, making several circles. Normally, he might have been self-conscious if anybody looked his way and wondered what he was up to, but whenever she was with him, it really didn’t seem to matter if anything they did was perceived as weird. If anything, he loved it more. Maybe the shock value wasn’t so bad when the spotlight was shared. Maybe that’s why he wanted to act instead of model. Acting was often as whole cast rather than all eyes on one person while they’re on the runway.

          “Thank you,” he chuckled when she shut it off and looked up at him. “I was feeling kind of heavy.” She smiled for the first time since they’d arrived, and she threw her arms around his shoulders. He ignored the way the camera around her neck hit him in the chest. 

          He looked over his shoulder when her gaze drifted past him and saw Padmé headed their way. “We’re-” She was instantly drowned out by a bunch of frantic whirring from the Dustbuster as Ahsoka did at least twice as many laps around her with the vacuum. “What on Earth?” she managed finally.

          “She’s getting rid of the negative energy around you. You should be grateful,” he said, somehow managing to keep a straight face as Padmé looked between them.

          “It’s time for the posed pictures,” Padmé said instead, deciding not to acknowledge what had just happened. It was probably for the best. She immediately turned around and walked off, her heels clicking across the hardwood floor. He looked back at Ahsoka.

          “You can do this,” he whispered. “Don’t let her intimidate you, she’s just stressed out, she’s not trying to be mean.”

          Ahsoka studied him for a moment before finally nodding, but he noticed the way her fingers had tightened on the vacuum again. Together they made their way through the backstage area to a part of the hotel that had been reserved for the pictures. It was another conference-like area, but it opened to a secluded patio with a nice brick exterior, well-trimmed hedges and pretty flowers. There were even stone stairs that kind of spiraled around to a second level of the garden. It was often used as a backdrop for weddings and such, but today it would serve for the fashion show. 

          He moved over to join the rest of the group after giving Ahsoka a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder. There he waited while watching Ahsoka look around as if frozen. Padmé hovered nearby, clearly anxious about how this would go, while also offering no real instructions or encouragement.

          After a few minutes of standing there awkwardly with a DustBuster in one hand and a camera in the other, Ahsoka finally blinked and looked back at the group of models. As if someone had suddenly pushed play again, things started moving. She began pointing at people and positioning them around the garden, posing them in all sorts of unusual ways. Sometimes she’d run the vacuum, other times she’d set it down and start framing with her fingers until she found the right spot or angle.

          She only really had one soft diffuser out there, so she had to keep moving it in order to counteract the way the sunlight reflected off the windows or made some random piece of metal blindingly bright. But just like he’d experienced with her before, she’d often adjust and move things around multiple times before finally taking one singular picture. He knew in this scenario it was risky to take only one each, but he was also pretty confident that every single one would turn out amazing and unique. 

          At one point he elbowed Padmé and told her to relax, and that everything would turn out fine. He even whispered a bit of an apology to her for not really understanding how much he’d hurt her. And that he’d simply needed something different out of life and that she’d done nothing wrong. He even went so far as to admit that it had weighed on him their whole relationship and that he felt guilty for letting it go on so long because of his indecision. 

          While she did at least acknowledge his attempt at an apology, he could tell it wasn’t enough. Finally, it was his turn for the portrait, he assumed Ahsoka had saved him for the end because she already knew how to work with him. He obeyed every adjustment she made, waiting for that final command and click of the camera. And before long, it was time to head inside and wait for the show to get started.

          After having his makeup touched up, he took a deep breath and studied his reflection in the mirror. He sat there for a long time, thinking about everything, but especially his future. While he didn’t want to let Padmé down and definitely didn’t want Ahsoka to suffer for any potential consequences with how the pictures might turn out, he realized that he wouldn’t exactly be sorry if tonight really was the end of his modeling career. He knew Ben would be disappointed of course, but he was ready to move on. He’d worked so hard to get to this point, a lot of years of training, strict diets or exercise programs. A lot of moving around, a lot of self-doubt, and a lot of dreams pushed aside.

          But ever since he met Ahsoka, it was like he could escape all the pressure. Be himself, think about things he wanted again. All this time, he’d just felt obligated to see it through for the people that had helped him along the way. Now suddenly it was less scary to imagine going a different direction, to branching off on his own. 

          He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment when he was given his two-minute warning. And then without another thought, he wiped off the makeup that covered his scar. If this was his last night as a model, he wanted it to be him they saw, not some cold empty version painted as someone else’s mannequin. 

          He made his way to the stage entrance and waited for his signal. When it came, he walked out and down the runway as he’d rehearsed many times before. When he made it to the end, he lifted his shoulders to flap the extra bit of cloth on the upper part of his suit coat to show it off, while looking up as if he could see the stars right then and there. 

          I love you, mom, he thought to himself, the weight of missing her settling across his features. Click. It took all his self-control not to smile in response. He just knew that one picture Ahsoka had just taken would probably be the best one he’d ever had from a show.