Peter wasn’t being careful. He knew that, Master Kenobi and the others had told him that often enough. He also knew he didn’t care. Why should he be careful when his Master was dead? Why should he be careful when his home was destroyed and the monster who did it was alive and in this base?
And continuing that train of thought, why should that monster be allowed to live when so many of those that Peter had held dear did not? That was a Dark thought, he knew, and though it scared him he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Peter just wasn’t being careful. A small (and yes, easily preventable) accident left him in the med bay with multiple lacerations and a slightly broken arm. But why did that matter, he was alive. He was still alive and Master Stark and the rest of the Jedi order was not. It made him want to scream.
When the medic came to patch him up Peter was fairly certain he went from wanting to scream to actually screaming, because the medic was Anakin Skywalker.
Just his fucking luck.
“I think I’d rather keep my arm broken thanks,” he muttered, looking anywhere but Skywalker’s face. He couldn’t look into the eyes of the man that murdered the closest thing he’d had to a father.
“Don’t touch me.”
@skynovae
