It was evening, and you wanted out of the damn medbay already.
"I'd like to leave now," you said. Another moment trapped in this room, right next to the spot that Sabè had lost her life and still in the one you'd lost and then reclaimed yours— you were going to lose your mind.
You were out of there within minutes.
Rico saw you off with Ahsoka, who insisted on getting you a wheelchair or something but you adamantly refused. You felt fine, all you needed was to redress the bandages on your arms and you were good to go.
There was someone you really needed to see, but first you needed a moment alone. You hadn't gotten one since you'd woken up.
Ahsoka brought you back to your room, and just as she was about to leave, the com on her wrist beeped with a message. She read it, the blue glinting off her face before she looked up, grimacing.
"Battle orders," she explained. "You should be getting something on your own com."
"You mean, if Anakin doesn't fire me."
"Don't put it like that," she shuffled uncomfortably. "Think of it like... he's letting you off the hook."
"I've always wanted to be a field medic. I still do."
"Okay, well, if you need someone to back you up on that argument I'm always here," she offered, and you smiled.
"Thank you."
"Com me if you need anything. I'll be right down the hall."
"Thanks Ahsoka," she bit her lip, hesitating by the door. She still didn't like the idea of leaving you alone like this, but you needed a moment to yourself and Anakin would be back soon enough. "I'm fine, really. You don't have to worry about me."
"Alright. I'll you later, Y/n," she finally relented, and then left you to close the door behind her.
You let out a long, heavy sigh.
You felt like you were in a dream. Everything you saw, everything you touched, and everything you smelled, heard, tasted— you felt like you were witnessing it from someone else's perspective, like you shouldn't be doing it yourself. You knew that was just your guilty conscious talking again.
To take your mind off of it, you walked into the bathroom and flicked on the lights. The last time you were here— literally yesterday— you had spent the majority of your time on the floor, throwing your guts up as Anakin rubbed your back and kept your hair out of your face.
Now, your stomach felt fine. Healthier than ever, really— though that had been swapped for arms that were bandaged all up and down, from your elbow to your fingertips, the skin underneath littered with dozens of little cuts. Anakin's healing powers really had worked a miracle, considering you should have much deeper gashes in your arms rather than the superficial wounds you had now.
You couldn't even imagine what they had looked like when you'd been brought in, when you were actually—
Don't think about it.
The point of being here was to deal with a different problem, a much more... visible problem. You weren't really sure what to expect when you looked in the mirror, but there was no avoiding your reflection forever.
Yup. Definitely bad.
Your face was still your face, nothing different about that other than the fact that the bags under your eyes were pretty dark and you had a little cut on your cheek. The thing that shocked you was your now silvery-white hair, sitting around your head all innocent like it hadn't completely betrayed you.
Why was it that all of you could come back just fine, but your hair couldn't?
It was stupidly frustrating, and you couldn't help but run your fingers through the strands top to bottom, scrutinizing your appearance in the mirror, studying what you were working with now.
It felt like your normal hair, healthy and soft. It still had a shine to it, like always, and you guessed you should be glad that it wasn't like... thin, balding, old-lady hair. It was the same density, same thickness, same texture as your old hair. Just... white.
So not your color.
Sighing deeply, you were too engrossed in your newly deadened appearance to hear the door of your quarters unlock and Anakin enter.
To him, it was like stepping into a warm bath on a cold day. Feeling your force signature, knowing you were behind that door in the bathroom, alive and well and here in one piece... his heart beat with uninhibited emotion.
Your own heartbreak quickened as well, and you paused in the mirror as you felt it. Was... something wrong? Were you having some sort of an attack? You'd always get anxiety, and this felt a little like it so you chalked it up to that.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a couple raps on the bathroom door. Anakin couldn't help himself— he had to see you.
"You can come in," you called out, still frowning at your reflection. Anakin walked in, and both of your hearts stopped as you locked eyes through the mirror.
This was the man that had brought you back to life.
You desperately searched your mind for words, anything to say that could convey what you were feeling. Gratitude, sadness, longing, fear... they were all swarming around your head in a jumbled up mess and you weren't sure how to tell him that you were so glad he brought you back but so angry at him for risking everything to do it.
Before you could say any of this, Anakin closed the distance between you two and pulled you into a crushing embrace.
The wind was knocked out of you but you were too shocked to care, face smooshed against Anakin's chest with your arms pinned to your side.
It took you a moment before you realized he wasn't trying to kill you, or hurt you, or harm you in any way.
He was hugging you.
Really, really hard.
And before you could even try to hug him back, he was pushing you away by the shoulders so he could see your face, head bobbing on your neck as he did so, and looking at you with so much fury—
"Don't you ever do that again."
You blinked at him.
"You hear me?" He shook you lightly. "Don't you ever leave us again. Do you know how bad you scared everyone?"
You couldn't answer because your lip was beginning to wobble and your throat was closing up. The more he spoke, the more you could see your own fear reflected in his eyes.
"If I couldn't save you— if I had lost you for good—"
He couldn't even finish the sentence himself. He was pulling you back into his chest hard, catching your thick tears on his shirt and feeling your shoulders heave with silent cries as he pressed his hand against your back.
He huffed out, deep and stressed, as he rested his cheek against your head. You were trembling beneath his touch like a leaf, all shaken up by the intensity he had come at you with. He hadn't meant to make you cry, but he wanted you to remember this. To feel the sheer terror and panic that he had felt when he heard what happened.
You clutched at the cloth of his shirt, bunching it up in your fists as you hiccuped uncontrollably. You kept muttering "I'm sorry" over and over and over again but the words were slurred together from your crying and from being so deeply buried in his embrace. You were frightened, and hurt, and so, so in love with the man holding you now that it scared you even more.
The last part wasn't news to you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had always known you cared deeply for Anakin. Much more than you were allowed to. And you're not exactly sure when that started, either, just that one day he didn't exist in your life and the next, bam. He was all you could think about.
But to see that unabashed emotion, hurt, and fear mirrored in his own eyes— it had taken you by surprise, so overcome with affection that you didn't know what to do with yourself or how to stop crying.
No one had ever cared enough about you to listen to your problems, or to want you on their team, or to order for you at a restaurant when you couldn't do it yourself. No one had ever run through the temple with you in their arms, sat with you as you threw up, and tried to protect you when you were being stubborn.
No one had ever cared enough to risk everything in his own life to bring you back to yours.
No one had ever cared. Until him.
The intensity of that baffled you the most, that he might possibly feel the same way about you as you did him. You didn't really want to figure it all out right now, though. You just wanted him to hold you in his arms, steady and warm and strong. A fortress around you that would never let anything try to hurt you again.
He had already proven that well enough.
After a while of you crying and shaking and clutching onto each other like you were afraid the other would disappear, you pressed your balled up fists to his chest and urged him to give you some space. He loosened his grip on you but kept his arms secure around your back, refusing to let you go so soon.
It was okay. You didn't want him to. You just wanted to be able to see his face, and it was exactly like you'd expected; still hard and drawn down in anger, but the soft glint in his eyes told you that it was just to hide the fear and pain.
You didn't know what he had seen, or how he had found out. You're not sure you would ever want to know. But you did know that he was never going to forget the moment he realized you were gone, you could see it clearly now in his face. You had scarred him for life.
"I didn't mean to die," you croaked.
"I know," he said, and his voice was soft.
"I didn't mean to scare you either."
"I know."
"And I'm sorry that I hurt you."
"It's okay."
His thumb found a stray tear on your cheek and he wiped it away. He looked at you for a while, his eyes taking in each inch of you while he had the chance. Soon, you had stopped crying and you were wiping your own face dry.
"Screw you for doing that," you pushed at his chest suddenly, breaking his hold on you. You were embarrassed and angry at everything that had just transpired. It was so unlike you to be so vulnerable in front of anyone. "You know I hate it when people yell at me."
"And I hate it when the people I love go off and die on me!"
"I didn't mean to!" You yelled back. "You think if I had known I would have gotten into that car?!"
"You should have listened when I told you to stay here!"
"I know!"
You both huffed in anger, not having it in you to truly be mad at each other. His hands found your arms again and he squeezed them. It was then that it dawned on you what he had said.
I hate it when the people I love go off and die on me.
Your eyes widened, peering up at him to see if he noticed what he'd said, too. He looked at you with a scowl.
"What?"
He must have meant it in a friendly way, like how he cares about Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. So you just shook your head.
"Nothing."
His eyes narrowed. "You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Can we talk about something else now? Like the mission we have to go on tomorrow?"
This made him go very quiet very suddenly.
"Anakin..." you crossed your arms. "You're not firing me."
His reaction— or lack of— confirmed that that had been exactly what he was thinking of doing.
"I mean it. And if you do, it won't make a difference. I'll just find someone else to put me on their squad and then I'll be doing the same thing anyways."
"Why are you so eager to put yourself in danger?"He fumed.
"I'm not."
"Sure seems like it."
"I won't be in danger, and you know it. We're the last targets out there— I'll be fine."
"That's what you said last night."
"This is different."
"You're right! War is worse!"
"I just want to do my job, Anakin," you sighed, annoyed but understanding where he was coming from. "You won't let me come with you because you're scared."
He couldn't look at you, but you knew you were right.
Of course he'd be scared. He let you go for 30 minutes last night and you had come back in an ambulance, cold and dead and gone from the world. He still remembered the horrifying moment he had reached out to feel your warm, playful spirit and instead found a wall of stark nothingness.
He had to push everything aside that he had ever learned as a Jedi in that moment— to "let things go and be with the force"—because he didn't want to lose you. He stole the life of someone else and gave it to you because he didn't want to lose you. He gave you a part of himself, because he didn't want to lose you. And here you were, asking to be put on the front lines of a war.
How could he not be afraid?
"You get one mission," he relented. He could barely believe he was saying the words himself, but you were so damn stubborn and he was so damn weak for you. "But if I see so much as a scratch on you—"
"Careful, or I'll start to believe you actually like me."
You meant this to be teasing, glad that he was actually seeing reason and letting you decide how you lived your life, but he didn't roll his eyes like you expected. Instead, he still looked very serious.
"Of course I like you, Y/n. Did I not make that clear enough already?"
You were suddenly way too aware of the fact that you were still in the bathroom, never having left during the entirety of your conversation. Anakin stood in the center of it crossing his arms over his chest. He was completely oblivious, but you refused to have this discussion next to a toilet.
"You could show it in a way that's less, I don't know, aggressive and controlling," you sassed, pushing past him and heading out of the bathroom.
"Would you rather I not care at all?"
You glared at him. "No."
Cause then you'd still be lying cold and dead on that metal table.
You continued to shoot daggers at him as he followed you out, and he met your stare with equal intensity.
"Fine. How would you rather I show you that I care, then?"
You grit your teeth at his bitter sarcasm, but a few ideas popped into your head. He was speaking again before you could come up with something snarky to say though.
"You want me to kiss you or something?"
You froze.
Was he being serious?
And... would it be wrong if you said yes?
Your blood went hot all of a sudden, thick in your veins, the humiliating evidence of your thoughts brandishing themselves clear on your cheeks for him to see. He raised his eyebrows, that stupid cocky look on his face already forming.
"Oh? You would like that, wouldn't you."
"No," you forced yourself to say, but it sounded like a pathetic excuse of a lie to your own ears.
"Okay, well then you can deal with my 'aggressive and controlling' way of showing you that I care," he was back to annoyed and aloof. "Otherwise I'll just have to kiss you."
Prove it.
If you were a braver soul, you would say that. But alas...
"You're so full of yourself, you know that?" You sat down hard on the bed, kicking your shoes off so you could cross your legs underneath you. "It's exhausting to be around."
"Good. Get some sleep then, we're heading out first thing in the morning."
Your blood was still hot, for more than one reason. Annoyance, arousal, and lastly— excitement at his words. You're both leaving tomorrow. Your first mission, and you got to experience it with him and Ahsoka.
The thought had you almost smiling as you rolled over on the bed, determined to get some sleep so you could finally leave this planet and get away from this whole mess that you called your life.