Snips and Skyguy: Return of the One Shots

Trinkets

or: anakin's love language is gift giving/receiving for pain purposes

Sometimes, Ahsoka questioned her master's sanity.

He meant well, always, she knew, but he still confused her at times, especially when he did things like this.

A small pile of sharp objects laid atop the blankets over her bed, the dim light of her quarters reflecting off of the edges.

She had absolutely no idea what they were. She hadn't asked him for supplies or tools of any sort, and they weren't working on any projects together at the moment.

So why would he leave a pile of sharp objects right on the space where she would be lying down?

She picked up the little trinkets, counting, "One, two, three, four," of them in her palm.

She shrugged her shoulders and set them on the table beside her bed, planning on asking Anakin about them in the morning. She didn't want to wake him right now—it was rare that he got to bed this early, and he deserved the rest.

—

"Oh, I just thought that you would like them," Anakin explained, between spoonfuls of his cereal. "I like to collect little things like that when I'm working on ships. I cleaned all the rust off of those pieces, and they seemed neat. You don't have to keep them if you don't want to."

Ahsoka listened intently as he spoke, wondering why exactly he would express himself through little pieces of metal, rather than words, or a gesture of physical affection, like she normally did.

"I think that they're neat too, Master," she reassured him when his expression faltered at the lengthened pause after he'd finished talking. "Thank you for thinking of me."

"Oh, uh, any time," he muttered with a dopey grin, looking down at his breakfast, instead of his padawan.

So this is how he says 'I love you,' she thought to herself as the pair ate in silence.

Figuring out Anakin Skywalker—the man behind the mask of 'The Hero With No Fear'—was turning out to be a bit simpler than she had expected.

—

He was holding his hand out to her, the gift in his palm much more valuable than any of the scrap metal that he'd found extraordinary enough to give to her in the past. The metal in his hand now was carved into beads—her beads.

Their beads.

The simple string of little spheres represented their tie to one another—Anakin's vows to protect and oversee her throughout her apprenticeship, and Ahsoka's to remain loyal to her master, which was the exact opposite of what she was about to do.

She closed his hand, rejecting one of his gifts for the first time in years.

And she could see it in his eyes, the hurt.

She'd seen him in pain—true pain—but it was almost always physical. This was emotional. She knew that he wasn't so good at dealing with this kind. She didn't think that she'd ever be the cause of it.

"I'm sorry, Master..."

He was too. 

"...but I'm not coming back."

i am watching inside out and i am not okay it is just pure EMOTIONAL DAMAGE.