Archive of Our Own ^beta

The days on Tatooine were longer than the days on Coruscant. The twin suns lingered in the sky as long as possible until they disappeared under the horizon. The days were long and hot, the nights short and cold. This was the world Anakin had been born into, and these were the days Anakin had been raised on. He was raised to keep track of the hours in his head as well as by charting the suns to make sure he did his tasks on time.

When he was brought to Coruscant, it was different. They were closer to their system’s singular sun, so the days weren’t as long and the nights were longer. It took time for Anakin to adjust to the time difference, just as it took Obi-Wan time to realize why Anakin stayed awake for ages after he should have drifted off and woke much earlier than Obi-Wan did. Although it had been years since he had to consider Tatooine time and he had learned to trust the Coruscant clocks, in his head, Anakin still occasionally had to convert Tatooine time into Coruscant time to make sure he wasn’t too late or too early for classes or events, and to make sure his reports were accurate.

Anakin didn’t know how this planet charted time. He didn’t even know what planet he was on. He had lost track of how many Coruscant days he had been enslaved for.

He had been enslaved for approximately forty long Tatooine days, give or take the time he had been unconscious. If he accounted for that, he was probably at least a few days off. The slavers weren’t interested in helping him or the rest of their merchandise keep track. Anakin did his best, counting the time in his head. The slavers had locked everyone away in dark cells, where the only light they had to keep track of time was controlled by the very people who wanted to break their spirits. They didn’t know he didn’t need the sun. He had his childhood lessons, the voice of his mother to guide him.

He no longer heard the Force speaking alongside her. The slavers had slapped force-suppressant cuffs on him while he was unconscious, after they stole him from the battlefield. When he had woken to darkness and couldn’t feel the Force flowing through his veins, singing in his mind, he had thought he was dead. Not one with the Force as the Jedi said they would all be one day, but in the dark Hell the elders on Tatooine spoke of.

It was only the deep ache he felt throughout his whole body that convinced him he was alive. When his captors arrived to inspect him, laughing at him when he tried to struggle against his bonds to fight him and just collapsed back onto the table they’d strapped him to, he realized he was in hell, but a different kind. His new masters were scavengers who searched war zones for droids and functioning weapons to sell on the black markets around the galaxy. If they found civilians, they took those too. They were absolutely delighted to find a Jedi among the remains.

Anakin didn’t quite recall the battle that had led him here. He remembered blaster fire, shouting orders, trying to predict the Separatists’ move before it was done. The feeling of victory.

Then- fire. The sensation of flying, falling. Then nothing at all, until he woke in darkness.

And approximately forty Tatooine days later, he was still in the dark, still in chains, still without the Force.

He had pieced together from the jabber of the sentients walking up and down the halls of the prison that there was to be a grand auction. One big auction, for the biggest and wealthiest clients. Other slaves had come and gone, but Anakin was still here. So were others. He had never seen any of them – they were kept separate from each other, and the cells were all solid durasteel, only slats for meals to be pushed through or their slavers to look in on them – but he listened. The slavers were keeping the ones who would get them the most.

Anakin, as a handsome, strong, young man, would fetch them plenty. As a Jedi, he would make them rich. As the Hero With No Fear? He’d make them legends. 

In the beginning he had tried to fight. Any time he had the chance, he lunged at the hands pushing his meals through the door or the eyes peeking in, tore at his cuffs until the skin around his neck and flesh wrist bled, did anything he could think of to get out.

All it earned him was the agony of electrocution or the lash of the whip and fresh blood stains on his cell floor. 

It had been years since he was whipped, his back stripped bare and flesh ripped open with every lash. They’d laughed out loud when they found the old scars from when he was seven years old. Despite all the years that had passed, despite how he bit his lip and forced back screams, he felt the same as he had as a small child, wanting his mom. 

It was not the last time they whipped him. Eventually they made him scream. That’s when he stopped fighting.

He hadn’t given up. He just lost the will to fight. It didn’t get him what he wanted. That was a lesson he had forgotten since leaving Tatooine, and one the slavers took pleasure in reminding him.

What he wanted was freedom. What he wanted was to go back to Coruscant – to find Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and his men. To find Padme . He wondered if they tried to find him or if they wrote him off for dead. He knows that would be the Council’s advice, and what the Council decreed, Obi-Wan would obey. Ahsoka would be the only one who might have thought otherwise, but unless she succeeded in stealing a ship and convincing at least a few men and a Master to go AWOL with her, the chances of her coming after him were slim.

Anakin doubted he would ever see any of them again. He would never see Coruscant again. He accepted that on day twenty-four. It had stopped hurting, mostly. Some nights, though, he wondered what they were doing without him. Wondered if they had given his room to someone else. What had they done with his posters? Some of them were special, collectables. His droid parts - he had projects he’d been working on. Where was Ahsoka living now? Did her new Master let her keep the trinkets and decorations she had collected like he had? He doubted it. Was Padme alright? She wouldn’t be able to mourn publicly, but in private, did she perform her people’s rituals for him? The thoughts swirled in his head for hours…

The day of the auction, when the slavers came to get him, chuckling about the credits they’d get for him, he instinctively recoiled and tried to keep away. When one of them reached for the button on their wrist brace that activated the electricity of his collar, he went without a word.

That didn’t mean he didn’t glare at them behind their backs, the deep dark pit in his soul aching to rip them to pieces.

Obi-Wan was glad Ahsoka wasn’t here with him. He barely liked Rex and Cody being with him. He was protected by his disguise of being some upcoming, new money young merchant from the Core Worlds. Rex and Cody were given the disguise as clone slaves, cleverly snatched from a battlefield – a paper-thin disguise, but with two faces identical to each other and every other clone ever seen on the news, there wasn’t much for them to work with.

Ahsoka, though, was a risk. A young Togruta girl would attract too much attention if she were to play a free woman, and he disliked the idea of her pretending to be his slave. Not to mention he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t go AWOL and try to free the first slave they saw.

He had given her strict orders to stay on the ship and wait with the other men as backup. She had been angry and protested, but he stayed firm and ordered her to stay put or else she wouldn’t be coming with him on missions anytime soon. She scowled and glowered but did as he told her. He was relieved that it hadn’t taken much more than that. They were still trying to find their footing as Master and Padawan after Anakin’s death.

Even here, surrounded by some of the worst scum the galaxy had to offer, Obi-Wan felt a pang in the pit in his stomach he had been ignoring for over two months now.

Anakin was gone. Obi-Wan had accepted that. He had let his feelings pass on into the Force and he had found peace, just as he had with Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released his feelings into the Force. He would be no use on this mission if he let his emotions distract him. There was no use in his grief, he told himself. Anakin would have wanted Obi-Wan to focus on the mission, his men, Ahsoka, not his emotions. Not Anakin, who had become one with the Force just as so many others had in this war. Just as Qui-Gon had. Obi-Wan was a better Jedi than that.

It was hard enough convincing the Council to agree to let Obi-Wan be Ahsoka’s Master after Anakin’s death, convincing them it was the logical move and what was best for Ahsoka rather than anything close to an attachment to her or Anakin’s legacy. They didn’t need to know he still had lingering feelings about Anakin’s death, that on the darker days where he couldn’t control himself, he found himself not being glad Anakin had become one with the Force, but missing Anakin, wishing he was here to help with Ahsoka, with the troops. The 501st had fallen under his jurisdiction alongside the 212th for the time being, and it was difficult, seeing the men clearly miss Anakin the way they missed their fallen brothers, as they were not Jedi and not trained as Jedi to let go of such feelings.

The men he could handle, but Ahsoka was another story. Her training had continued with him and besides her smart mouth and impulsive decisions, aided and abetted by Anakin in ways Obi-Wan disapproved of, she was coming along wonderfully. And yet Anakin’s absence more often than not felt like a gap between them that had yet to be bridged. He wondered if it ever would be.

Obi-Wan shook himself out of his thoughts. He had a mission. There was no sense dwelling on this train of thought, not when he had his duties.

“Are the men in position?” He murmured to Cody.

“Yes, General,” Cody replied, matching Obi-Wan’s volume. “They’re ready to go as soon as you give the command.”

Their orders were to infiltrate the slave auction on the planet Fallex. From the information they had, these slavers were notorious scavengers, following battles and skirmishes, picking up whatever remained, and selling it on the black market. Weapons, people, droids – full-bodied or parts -, it was all for sale. Furthermore, sources said they were starting to have dealings with the Separatists. Obi-Wan’s mission was to take back as many Separatist droids as they could in hopes they had not been wiped properly and still had some remaining information on the Separatists battle plans. If the rumors of the scavengers' dealings were true, Obi-Wan and the troops were to put an end to it.

Obi-Wan, Rex, and Cody were to see what they offered. The clones were in charge of infiltrating the slavers’ building and snatching the droids. They would make the rest of their plans later.

“My Lord,” Rex said, louder than Cody, addressing Obi-Wan as he was supposed to for their subterfuge, “the auction is starting soon. We need to be in position.”

Obi-Wan wanted to grimace at Rex’s words but refrained. They had roles to perform and people all around them. He nodded. “Yes, of course. Let’s be off, then.”

They followed the crowd into the main hall where the auction was to take place. Though from the outside the building looked like an abandoned warehouse, the interior had been cleaned up by the scavengers to be the perfect auction hall. There was a stage at the front of the room, lights beaming down, complete with a podium and microphone for the speaker. There were rows and rows of seats covered in plush dark velvet, enough for over 600 if Obi-Wan were to guess. He noted screens set up on the walls on either side of the stage and assumed they were for close-ups, so those seated towards the back had a better view. It wasn’t dissimilar to a normal auction hall or even a concert hall, right down to the plush velvet seats, he thought as he, Rex and Cody took their seats in the middle of the room.

They were surrounded by sentients of all species. It seemed that when it came to their clients, the slavers did not discriminate. All of them chattered excitedly amongst themselves, eager to see tonight’s wares. It was truly disgusting to see so many who were fine with selling and buying other sentients as if they were livestock.

He hid his disgust behind an act of interest. He didn’t speak to anyone around him, but scanned the room with his eyes in a way that indicated he was impressed with his surroundings. No one could guess he was scanning the room for vulnerable or protected spots.

A young human male with pale skin and light features stepped onto the stage, standing behind the podium. The room began to quiet down. He tapped his microphone a few times, then began speaking:

“Welcome, my friends! It’s always a pleasure to see your bright and shining faces looking up at me every year. I promise you, this year is a special one. My associates and I all hope you’re willing to open your hearts – and your pockets – for our cause.”

“Cause?” Rex repeated under his breath, disgust evident.

“Stay calm, Rex,” Cody hissed back.

“That’s right, everyone,” the speaker continued. “It’s because of your help we can provide you and your associates with free labour and entertainment, year after year. We truly appreciate your help, especially in these difficult times.”

Obi-Wan surveyed the room at large. It didn’t look like many of these beings, most of whom were nodding in agreement with the speaker’s words, had ever been affected by any “difficult times” in their lives.

“Now, most years, we save our best merchandise for last.” The man smiled teasingly at the crowd. “We all love the suspense – we get to keep you on your toes as we tease you, leaving you guessing, and you all adore a good surprise. How can I blame you? Who doesn’t? That said, tonight we are mixing things up a bit.”

Obi-Wan frowned. He had a bad feeling about this…

“Tonight,” the speaker announced dramatically, “we are showing you the best we have to offer… at the very beginning!”

The crowd murmured excitedly; it had to be good, whatever they were selling, for them to put it out first. Obi-Wan eyed them all with thinly veiled disdain, glad everyone was too enthralled by the speaker to pay any attention to him.

“You might be wondering why we’d do something like this, start off so strong - well, we are absolutely delighted by what we have to show you tonight, and for once, we don’t feel like waiting around! He’s a treat, I promise you, you’ll understand when you see him. Don’t worry, though, we have plenty of wonderful items to be auctioned off, as we always do, so if you don’t win this one, you’ll have plenty of options. I don’t want to see any squabbling or pettiness in the crowd tonight, understand?”

The crowd gave scattered agreement. The speaker smiled pleasantly and said, “I can’t hear you!”, prompting them to all yell out their agreement, their excitement growing. Obi-Wan had to give it to him - he knew how to work a crowd. Even he was intrigued about what they were offering, though for an entirely different reason than the rest. 

“I don’t like this, General,” Rex muttered to him. “Something feels off.”

“I agree, but we have to be patient,” Obi-Wan said. “Let’s just see who is so important to them. We can free him once we have a plan.” The speaker had said ‘he’ and believed everyone would understand the hype around him. It couldn’t be anything good .

The ground started to rumble. Cam droids flew out from off-stage and hovered, the video transmitting onto the screens on the wall as Obi-Wan had guessed. They showed a section of the stage floor opening up - it appeared the slaves would be brought up on a platform from below. The slavers did seem to adore suspense and theatricality, if their speaker and set-up was anything to go by.

“My dearest friends,” the speaker began as the top of the human’s head became visible, stage still rumbling and rattling as it rose, “we’ve all seen him on the holovids, the news cams. He’s handsome, strong, fierce . He was unbeatable . And yet, just for you, just so we could give you the best of the best, we beat him. We’ve done what the Separatists could only dream of. We’ve snatched him up, dusted him off, and he’s ready to go home with the lucky winner. Who will it be? I give you… Jedi Knight, The Hero Without Fear, Anakin Skywalker!” 

He’d been shoved into the fresher and given new clothes to wear. Their fingers hovered over the buttons on their braces, waiting for him to be stubborn or act out. He kept his mouth shut and hands at his sides, ignoring them eyeing his body or snickering at the state of him. He’d gotten skinnier, lost his muscle, even though they tried to keep their slaves fed well and made them do exercises in their cells to ensure they didn’t lose their strength or attractiveness. It was odd to him, but he supposed every slaver had their own style. 

The clothes they gave him were soft and silky, the nicest clothes he’d ever had. They were form-fitting and highlighted his colouring and features. At least he was allowed to dress himself, to cover himself up instead of that dignity being taken from him too. 

He was brought down the hallway from the fresher room, cuffs linked together and connected to his collar behind his back, and shoved into a small dark space, so small he had to bend down to fit. They told him to wait patiently and then locked him inside. He didn’t know what was happening. Was this the display room? Were people surveying him somehow? 

He was unprepared for when the floor started rumbling and lifting. Above him, the ceiling started rolling back, a ray of light shining through and getting larger by the second. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, feeling them prickle - he’d been in the dark too long. He could hear the speaker’s voice and the hum of the audience. 

When the platform stopped moving, he blinked a few times until he could handle the lights. He opened his eyes and tentatively looked at the audience.

So many sentients, all in one room. All looking at him, wanting to buy him. He remembered this feeling, watching the slaves on Tatooine being sold, fearing he and his mother would end up there one day and separated. 

Over a decade later, as a Jedi Knight and a free man, here he was, right back where his masters always told him he was meant to be. 

He tried to stand straight and tall, not to slouch. Although it might raise interest in his strength, he didn’t want to look as weak and pathetic as he felt. 

“Now, my friends, you might be asking yourselves, I thought Anakin Skywalker died in battle months ago! Well, my dears, it turns out he wasn’t so dead after all. We found him, bruised and battered among the rubble. Despicable, isn’t it? Abandoned without a care? The Jedi are certainly proving they have no feelings.” The speaker tsked. Anakin wondered how quickly he would be electrocuted if he tried to lunge at the man.  

“Not to worry, though, he’s been fixed up and made good as new. Look at him!” The speaker reached over and grabbed Anakin’s flesh arm, groping his bicep. “A big strong lad, and a pretty one at that. Men, keep an eye on your wives with this one”

Anakin felt the sour sting of bile in his throat. He would rather die than betray Padme like that. He bit his tongue, clenched his jaw and looked straight ahead, ignoring the grip on his arm.

“Don’t worry about his Jedi mind tricks. We’ve given you security - turn around, dear boy - yes!” The speaker yanked Anakin’s arm, forcing him to turn around, putting his cuffs on display. “Force suppressors. He couldn’t harm a fly with them on. And if that wasn’t enough, we’ve also given him one of our control collars for if he gets a little out of control, just as we do for all our merchandise. As a reminder, the remote comes free with every purchase of a sentient!” Another yank turned him back around to face the audience. “I’ll give you all a little display-”

That was all the warning Anakin had before white hot pain ripped through his entire body. He collapsed to the floor, convulsing in agony, biting down on his lip until he tasted blood to keep from screaming. He wouldn’t scream, he wouldn’t, he would not -

It was over as quickly as it had begun. Anakin sagged into the floor, his muscles crying out from how tightly they had seized and how hard they’d thrashed. He struggled to take a deep breath, trying to control his heartbeat.

“You’ll notice that he requires more power than most sentients do,” the speaker said. His voice sounded a million miles away. Anakin had to strain to hear him over the sound of his own pounding heart. “That’s because even without his Jedi magic, he’s stronger than a regular being. But we still know how to take him down. Let’s see if we can get him to scream…”

No, wait-

Pain. More pain. Worse than before. It tore through him like blaster bolts, like white hot needles searing through his muscles down to the bone underneath, stabbing him over and over again, burning, burning, burning- 

He didn’t realize his vision had gone black until he came face to face with the hard metal floor, cool against his flushed cheek. He could feel something wet dripping from his eyes and focused on that, on the tears and the cold floor, rather than the pain that still burned, getting worse every second; focused on the sound of his ragged breathing and heartbeat pounding instead of the chatter from the speaker and the oohs and ahs of the audience or his own agonized screams echoing in his ears.

He vaguely heard the word “bidding” and closed his eyes, wondering how much he would be sold for - when the screaming started again. But this time, they weren’t his own.

Obi-Wan felt like all the air had been punched out of his lungs. 

Anakin. That was Anakin up on stage. His Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, right there-

Anakin, alive. The whole time. Unbeknownst to everyone. And now, here, at a slaver’s auction- 

“General.” A violent hiss in his ear and a shake of the shoulder courtesy of Rex shook him out of his thoughts. “What do we do?”

He wasn’t surprised Rex was the one to ask. He could feel the rage and horror radiating off of him, rippling through the Force. He wasn’t surprised when he turned and saw the twisted expression of sheer anger and loathing on Rex’s face, the tension in his body like an elastic band pulled tight and ready to snap. 

Obi-Wan was at a loss. Anakin was alive .

“Wait a moment,” he said finally, trying to think. He had to think, had to focus. They would save Anakin, of course. The question was how. Droids would be guarded with less surveillance than their Jedi slave. “Observe and wait for an opening to strike. If we miscalculate we could lose him.”

Lose him again. Force, Anakin was alive.

“And then what, General?” Cody asked on his other side. He sounded almost as angry as Rex, but hid it well. 

“That’s why we’re waiting and observing,” Obi-Wan said. He could think of a plan once he focused enough to think past Anakin being alive .

He observed - he observed Anakin’s tired, pale face. The shadows under his eyes. The slump in his shoulders, though he tried to stand tall. He looked skinnier than before. As the cam-droids drew closer to him, his image growing bigger on the screens, showing the details for the audience, Obi-Wan could see bruises and marks - scabs, he realized, and healing scars - lining his neck around the collar. Indicative of someone who fought to get it off. 

Yet despite the signs of struggle, Obi-Wan didn’t remember Anakin ever looking so defeated before. Not even after losing his arm. Not in the ten years of being Master and Padawan before that. Not even when he had first met Anakin, nine years old and fresh from slavery, had Obi-Wan seen this… exhaustion in his Padawan before. 

He felt sick and couldn’t summon the strength to release that feeling into the Force.

Just as Obi-Wan started to wonder how it was Anakin was even alive - e hadn’t died in the explosion like they had all thought - the speaker said they found him in the rubble. Had he been buried under debris, trapped until the slavers found him? Thrown into one of the crevices of the territory? Flung through the air by the explosion into territory they hadn’t searched through? Had they not searched enough? Was he right there, hidden from them, the whole time they searched for him?

They hadn’t searched hard enough. They’d found a handful of survivors, but they hadn’t found Anakin. The speaker’s words, the Jedi having no feelings, stung harder than the accusation usually did.

Obi-Wan watched with burning eyes and a buzzing in his head growing louder and louder, aware of how Rex’s finger twitched as though longing for a trigger and Cody was dead still and displeasure and anger radiated off both of them, clouding the Force around them, the longer the speaker spoke. He watched the speaker grab at Anakin’s arm, joke about him being used, and his fists clenched at the look on Anakin’s face - he could never hide his emotions as well as Obi-Wan would have liked, but he was certainly trying. 

And then Anakin was on the floor, thrashing and convulsing, the speaker going on and on about the use of shock collars to control the slaves and keep them from getting too arrogant. But even if that wasn’t a repulsive thing to say, Anakin had done nothing to deserve it - he had been still and quiet and compliant and yet the speaker was electrocuting him just because he could. To give everyone an example of what they could do. 

“General,” Rex hissed. 

Obi-Wan could say nothing, frozen in horror as he watched Anakin writhe on the floor for what felt like hours before the speaker stopped. Anakin’s body went limp. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat, thinking for a moment that Anakin had died right there in front of him and now was truly gone forever-

Until the cam-droids flew closer, eager to show off Anakin’s suffering, and Obi-Wan saw him taking deep breaths.

Thank the Force. 

“Call for the men,” Obi-Wan hissed. “Tell them their priority is now the slavers, not the droids. Send reinforcements to join us here.”

Cody and Rex both nodded and discretely spoke orders into their comlinks. Obi-Wan’s eyes remained glued to the stage.

“You’ll notice that he requires more power than most sentients do,” the speaker said. “That’s because even without his Jedi magic, he’s stronger than a regular being. But we still know how to take him down. Let’s see if we can get him to scream…”

No-

Anakin's agonized screams ripped through the air, piercing Obi-Wan's heart like a blade. It was shrill and pained, like the screams of the tortured or dying he'd heard so many times before in this war. He had never heard Anakin make such a sound before. 

It went on for longer than the first round of electrocution, the speaker's face lit up with amusement. Amusement at Anakin's pain and suffering, at the sound of his screaming, the same screaming that ripped through every layer of emotional defense Obi-Wan had built and tore into his heart like vultures into a carcass. All he could think of was Anakin, his brother, his Padawan, the little boy who smiled up at him like he was the sun itself even when Obi-Wan knew he was failing him- 

He had failed Anakin again, not finding him. He was failing Anakin now, not stopping this. 

Obi-Wan was only half aware of himself, aware enough to know that was bad but not enough to care, as he slipped his lightsaber into his hand from his sleeve and launched himself onto the stage without telling either commander what he was doing. From the sound of their yelling orders at the crowd as he soared through the air, they understood him anyway. 

Obi-Wan landed on the stage with a dull thud, the electric blue of his lightsaber illuminating the speaker’s face as Obi-Wan held the blade to his neck.

“Free him. Now. This is over. Free him.”

It sounded familiar. Too familiar. Oh- no, it couldn't be… 

“Okay, okay!” the speaker whimpered. Even limp and with his vision blacking out, Anakin felt him looming over his body. Could hear the familiar hum of a lightsaber. But… “I’m- just let me-”

“Now!”

With a faint click, Anakin felt his collar unlock. 

He took his first free breath in over forty days. The air burned against his skin, his flesh hot and angry from the electrocution. There was no pressure or strain against his neck. He would gladly feel the burn in exchange for that.

“The cuffs now,” the voice repeated, still so angry - and Anakin knew it was who he had thought. How? He thought he'd never see Obi-Wan again… 

“Alright, alright!” 

The same click, and his wrists were free - and Anakin felt the Force flooding into his veins, singing in his head, cooing and whispering to him with glee. He gasped, sucking in a deeper breath that hurt his chest. After so long, the sensation, the song in his head, was overwhelming, bombarding him all at once before he could throw up his shields to protect himself. He could hear, feel the hum of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, so close and familiar to him. He felt every living being in the room, their thoughts, their feelings - he could hear their anger and fear, the panic of being caught, being at gunpoint, being treated a fraction of how he and every other slave had been treated- Obi-Wan next to him, his fear anxiety grief relief shock amazement- 

“Anakin!” He felt a hand, cool and gentle, touch his forehead. Felt the sensation of safe safe safe and didn’t know if it was Obi-Wan projecting those feelings onto him or his own relief. “Anakin, be calm. It's alright. You're safe now. Stay with me.”

Anakin opened his eyes. The stagelights burned, but through his cloudy, teary vision, he saw- 

“Obi-Wan,” he murmured tiredly. “Master…”

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan whispered softly. “Oh, Anakin-” 

Anakin's eyes slipped shut.

“No, no, NO, Anakin, stay with me!” 

Anakin wished he could, but he had fought for forty long days and he was tired. He closed his eyes and slipped away, content with the cool hand on his forehead, the feeling of safety, and the Force singing in his head. 

Anakin woke, blinking slowly. No bright lights above him or the wild thoughts and feelings of dozens of different beings - just dim lights and the soft, familiar hum of a starship. Some traces of other beings around him but not nearly as loud as they had been before. The Force wasn’t as loud either, but it wasn’t gone, just softer. As if it knew to be calm for him after everything. 

He recognized where he was, having woken up here more than a few times over the course of the war - a bed in the medical bay. He could feel the bacta patches over his neck and his back, the sting of an IV line stuck in his arm. He stared blankly at the ceiling, listening to the soft beeps of machinery and hushed twin voices somewhere in the background.

He wondered how long it had been since he blacked out. How many days… 

Did he have to count the days anymore, he wondered, if he was free now? He felt uneasy at the thought of losing track, somehow. 

Anakin took too deep a breath and hacked out a cough. His throat was dry. It hurt. 

“General!” The twin voices he’d heard called out.

The next second, Rex and Kix were at his side, looking down at him with twin looks of relief. 

Anakin stared at them a moment, trying to string his thoughts together in his hazy foggy mind, before he finally gave a tired smile. With another breath, he croaked out, “You both look terrible.”

Kix rolled his eyes, still smiling, but Rex was too relieved to care about the teasing. 

“Good to have you back, General,” he said, voice soft. 

“Good to be back.” Anakin sighed, sinking back into the pillow. “Miss me?”

He meant it as a joke, but received a gentle, “Of course we did, General.”

“If you don’t have all the men sweeping in to welcome you back, you’ll certainly have a commotion when you go see them,” Kix said. 

“Fives was nearly crying when he found out you were alive,” Rex said, voice fond. “The rest of them weren’t much better.” 

So they had labelled him as dead, just as he thought. Rex’s words brought him comfort. He had been assumed dead, but they hadn’t forgotten him. They were glad to see him come back. He wondered if he would be allowed to return as their general, or if he would be declared unfit for duty after everything. He’d lost his edge, his will to fight. He’d been made a spectacle for a crowd, almost turned into a pet for some rich slave owner. How could he lead them now?

“I missed you all,” he said softly. If he wasn’t allowed to be their general again, they could at least know that much. “Let the men know I’ll come see them-”

“Absolutely not. You’ve got electrical burns and scarring that need to be dealt with, as well as bruised ribs, and whip scars. It’s a miracle nothing’s gotten infected, but you and the others still need peace and quiet until we make it back to Coruscant,” Kix said in his standard no-nonsense tone. “The men will be allowed in, in pairs at most. No more than that.”

“Others?” Anakin squinted. He reached out tentatively with the Force and felt the presence of others in the med bay with him - he didn’t recognize them.

“The other slaves we rescued. We got them all out,” Rex said. “They’re resting now. Slavers are in the brig. With all the information we have, we might be able to track down the other sentients they’ve sold off.”

Anakin sighed in relief. He had never met any of the other captives, but he was glad to know they were safe. And they could find more of the slaves that were sold… 

“Good thing they tried to sell me off first, huh?” he mumbled, mostly to himself. 

From the sour taste he could sense in the air, neither Rex nor Kix agreed. Rex looked like he wanted to say something.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, rather than addressing that. He was too tired. “Is he here?”

“He’s talking to the Council right now,” Rex said, shaking away the unhappiness at Anakin’s comment. “Explaining the… situation. He’s been here most of the time, General. You just missed him. He should be back soon.”

He’d been here the whole time? 

Anakin remembered feeling Obi-Wan’s hand on his forehead, soft and soothing. Gentle. He wondered if Obi-Wan had done that at all while he’d been asleep. He hadn’t felt a touch like that since he was a child…

“General, you should get some rest,” Kix instructed, distracting Anakin from his thoughts. “You’re still healing. It will do you good.” 

Kix was probably right, but Anakin didn’t want to tell him so. He was saved from telling Kix anything when there was a soft grunt of pain from somewhere else in the room and Kix rushed to check on them. 

Rex stayed right where he was, still standing at attention at Anakin’s bedside. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Anakin since he’d joined him. 

“Rex?” Anakin questioned, looking curiously at his captain. 

“Sir, I-” Rex swallowed hard. “I kept the men in perfect shape while you were gone. General Kenobi is a good leader, Sir, but- You’re a difficult man to follow. I held the 501st to your standards as much as I could. ”

There was a look in his eyes Anakin had seen before - on the battlefield, learning who of his brothers had fallen and who had not. Anakin had never seen that look directed at him. 

“I’m sure you did wonderfully, Rex,” Anakin said. “There’s no one else I’d want leading our men.” 

Rex swallowed again. “You were missed, Sir.”

He was missed. 

Anakin didn’t know why he struggled to respond. 

“You should get some rest, Sir,” Rex said after a moment. His voice was softer than Anakin had ever heard. “I’ll be here.”

Anakin must have been more exhausted than he felt, because he didn’t disagree. He settled back against his pillows, closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep. 

It was strange, being in this scenario he had been in dozens of times throughout the war - falling asleep in the medical bay after narrowly escaping some horrible fate, surrounded by beeping noises and the hum of the ship - and yet feeling so uneasy at the idea after only forty days. He had gotten used to the silence and the loneliness of his cell. The noise and the knowledge of someone else’s presence in the space, multiple someone’s even, had always meant he was in trouble and passing out in the middle of punishment, rather than slipping away to sleep. 

But Rex was here, and so was Kix, and eventually Obi-Wan would come back. Men he trusted to have his back, to be loyal and fight for him if need be. 

He could at least try, for them. 

Anakin woke up again, not feeling any better than he had the first time, but aware of a heavy lump pressed against his side and a presence hovering right next to him. The lights were still dim. The blankets on top of him were warm. The bed beneath was medic-bay firm, and he could still hear the beeping of machines and the distant rumbling of the ship.

It hadn’t been a dream. He was free. He was on the ship heading back to Coruscant, back home… 

He looked down at the lump against his side and found his former Padawan sleeping in the bed with him, cheek pressed against his arm, drooling on his sleeve. 

Ahsoka. He couldn’t believe it. She was here? How? He thought-

Anakin looked around, searching for someone who could answer his questions, but his search was cut short by the sight of Obi-Wan dozing in the chair next to his bed, arms crossed over his chest and head nodding slowly, jerking up every so often without waking.  

“Master?” Anakin croaked without meaning to. Rex had said Obi-Wan had stayed with him the whole time, but seeing it-

Regardless of his intentions, Obi-Wan heard his call. 

“Anakin-!” Obi-Wan bolted upright, eyes enormous and full of concern. He grabbed the bed railing and squeezed it so hard his knuckles turned white. 

“Master,” Anakin sighed. 

“How are you feeling? Any better? I can call for Kix if you need.” 

“I'm alright,” Anakin said. The bacta patches were working as they should. He still felt tired and his head hurt, but otherwise he was fine. He was back where he was meant to be. For how much longer, though… “Truly, Master.” 

Obi-Wan heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Anakin wondered if he was angry. His shields were back up, blocking his emotions from Anakin. Anakin almost missed the sensations of worry and joy he'd felt through Obi-Wan. 

He must have prodded at Obi-Wan through the Force without realizing it, or maybe Obi-Wan was off kilter, as a moment later Anakin felt a stream of sorrow and grief pouring from Obi-Wan straight to him. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked up at Anakin. He had the same look Rex had before - haunted, apologetic, sad. 

“I'm sorry, Anakin. I'm so sorry. We didn't look hard enough for you. We should have done more to find you. You were with them this whole time… we could have lost you without even knowing it. I'm so sorry.” 

Anakin had never seen Obi-Wan like this before. The look on his face, the guilt in his voice - he didn't like it. 

“Master, I-” he swallowed. “You thought I was dead, right?” 

The twitch in Obi-Wan's face and the bleeding sorry sorry sorry in the Force gave was answer enough.

“I'm so sorry, Anakin. We shouldn't have given up on you so fast.” His voice was almost a croak. “If only I had-” 

“Master,” Anakin interrupted. “It's- it's okay. I'm here now. I'm back. You got me back.” 

Obi-Wan looked at him with sad eyes for what felt like ages before he gave a short nod. He sighed heavily and gave Anakin a tired smile. 

“You've been missed,” he said softly. His eyes fell on Ahsoka, who remained undisturbed by their talk. 

He'd been missed. Obi-Wan hadn't just accepted his passing into the Force. He had missed Anakin. 

Ahsoka had missed him too. He smiled, looking at her. 

“What's she doing here?” He asked. “I thought she'd get a new Master.” 

“She did. It's me.” 

Anakin looked to Obi-Wan in surprise. “And your hair isn't grey yet?”

Obi-Wan let out a surprised chuckle. “She's given her best shot, but she's not any worse than you.”

Anakin shot him an offended look that fell at Obi-Wan's pointed look. Alright, he could admit to being a problem Padawan… 

“I'm surprised they left her with you,” Anakin admitted. He'd thought the Council would want her with someone who wasn't connected to Anakin at all. They'd expressed their disapproval of Anakin being Obi-Wan's Padawan, thinking it was an attachment to Qui-Gon rather than sheer obligation to his last request. Were they really repeating what they viewed as past mistakes, with the same lineage no less?

“They didn't want to,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I asked them to. I had to argue quite a bit, but they gave in.”

Oh… that was more and less confusing. Obi-Wan had a habit of arguing to keep his Padawans… but the Council allowing it?

“Plo Koon thought it would be best for her and voted in my favour,” Obi-Wan said, as if reading his thoughts. “Other Masters saw the reasoning behind it after that.”

“Ah.” Anakin smiled down at Ahsoka. She shifted closer to him in her sleep, clinging just a bit tighter to his arm. “I'm glad. How has her training been?”

“She's been struggling,” Obi-Wan admitted. “She still puts her all into fighting and training, but she's been more… difficult, since losing you.” He stroked his beard absentmindedly. “I've found it harder to connect to her than before.”

“Well, it should be easier now that I'm back. I'll help as much as I can.” 

Obi-Wan gave him a befuddled stare. 

“What do you mean?”

“I'll help you with her.” Anakin frowned. “What, did you think I would let you go on alone? Of course I won't be her Master anymore, but-”

“Yes, you will,” Obi-Wan interrupted, still looking confused. “The Council has already agreed, once you recover-”

“I can't be her Master,” Anakin said, frowning deeper. “After what's happened.”

“Like I said, once you recover-”

“I gave up,” Anakin said. “I tried to fight and they broke me down. You saw me on the stage, I just stood there and let them torture me.”

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan looked alarmed.

“How could I be Ahsoka's Master now? Or lead the men, or do anything useful for anyone? I gave up.” It had been made clear to him years ago that he had to be the best of the best to justify the Council's decision to let him stay. He had worked so hard for years, only for it all to be made pointless within forty days. “I'm not fit to be her teacher or a general or- they need someone who wouldn't have given up.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan repeated, looking less alarmed and more determined. “You are hardly the first Jedi to bend under harsh conditions like the ones you were in. Nor are you the first Jedi to stop fighting to keep yourself alive.”

“I-”

“You did not ‘give up’, as you said. You were keeping yourself safe. Anyone would have done the same. I would have done the same. So have many other Jedi. You're not weak or broken for not fighting, Anakin. You did what you had to do. There's no shame in that.” 

No shame? Anakin wanted to laugh. Of course there was shame. He was the Hero With No Fear, as they had called him so many times, and yet- 

“There is no shame in it, Anakin,” Obi-Wan repeated more forcefully. Anakin wondered if he was letting his thoughts seep out without realizing. “You will be Ahsoka’s Master again, and you will be aided in recovery, and whatever happens after that, no one with value with shame you for what you decide to do. Whether that's returning to the 501st or- anything else.” 

Anakin stared at him. 

He would be Ahsoka’s Master again. Obi-Wan had agreed, and the Council did too. He had the option to be a general again. And if he didn't want to be… 

Of course he wanted to be. He just didn't know how he could. But the option was there. Was being offered to him. 

Of course, that was part of freedom. Having choices again.

“Oh” was all he could think to say. His mind was spinning. 

Obi-Wan gave him a tired smile. 

Despite himself, Anakin found himself smiling back. Tired, tentative, but still. 

“Go back to sleep,” Obi-Wan murmured. “You need all the rest you can get. We can talk more later.” 

Falling asleep in Rex's presence had been easier than expected. With Obi-Wan next to his bed and Ahsoka's warm body cuddled up against his own, Anakin was drifting off as soon as he closed his eyes. He knew when he woke up, they would still be here. His men would be here. After forty long days, he was on his way home.