Snips and Skyguy: Return of the One Shots

Blame

She hadn't spoken a word to him since they'd returned to Coruscant. She'd gone straight to her room when they got up to their quarters and locked the door tightly behind herself.

Anakin's first instinct was to check in on his padawan, but he was almost certain that he already knew what was causing this behavior. He truly didn't need to ask.

He'd been hurt on their last mission—a blaster bolt to his neck that she had somehow missed while covering him.

"I was supposed to have your back," he remembered her whispering while a medic from another battalion worked quickly to make sure that the wound wasn't fatal. She had been crying.

"It's okay," he had wanted to say. "It's going to be okay." But his mind had been too fuzzy and he couldn't even see straight.

Ahsoka hadn't heard a word from him other than orders in the past few days either.

He sighed, taking a seat at their table and burying his head in his hands. The stinging wound on the left side of his neck burned. It would surely leave a scar.

What's one more? he thought.

He rose to his feet, taking a deep breath before sauntering over to Ahsoka's door. They were going to have to talk sooner or later. The less time that she was in pain from blaming herself, the better.

"Snips?" he asked gently, knocking with the back of his prosthetic hand. There was a squeak of springs inside of a mattress, soft footsteps, and then the click of a lock.

"Hey," she whispered, not looking at him as she crossed her room, settling onto the bed with her back hunched. "You can come in."

He did.

"You gonna move over?" he teased, waving her to the side so he could sit down next to her. She gave him a halfhearted smile.

"I'm... guessing you want to talk about what happened?" she asked, head down, eyes focused on her swinging legs. "About how I missed a bolt and nearly killed you because I was so stupid and unfocused and—"

"No," Anakin interrupted her softly, his voice low. "I don't want to hear any of that talk."

She chewed on her lip, fists clenched as she tried to swallow the tears down.

"So are you going to send me back then?" she asked, her voice cracking a bit at the end. She swallowed hard. "Because I would completely under—"

"Ahsoka," Anakin said, gentle yet firm, as always.

"It makes sense since you just got me and I—"

"Ahsoka," he repeated, the hand that he rested on her shoulder finally silencing her.

She looked up at him, tears trying desperately to hold on to the brim of her lower lid.

Like me, he thought. Hates being vulnerable.

"What?" she sniffled.

He stared into her eyes for a few more moments before opening his arms up wide.

"Come here."

And she did.

She fell right into his embrace, letting her guilt all out as she cried into his shoulder.

"This," Anakin told her, such truth, such confidence in his voice that she couldn't help but believe him "was not your fault."

it is four in the morning, there are scary noises in my house, i cannot sleep but what i can do is WRITE