#youdon'tbelonghere

[exomal]

"You don't belong here."

A young Anakin Skywalker contemplating his place in the Jedi Order.

[ilonga]

angstpril day 6

prompt: “You don’t belong here.”

(context: I finally caved and made a wandavision au)

ao3

"Rex!" Anakin says as he opens the door to his and Padme's villa. "Come in, come in. The twins are sleeping, so we might have half a minute of peace."

Someone laughs, far away.

Rex steps in with a matching smile of his own. "Good to see you too, Anakin. Though I admit, I'm actually here to get something repaired."

Anakin takes the joke good naturedly as they head over to the living room. "I'm only useful as the village mechanic anymore, I'm afraid. And the stay at home parent. People only come over for company anymore if they're looking for my wife."

Rex looks around. "She's still working, then?"

"Late nights. You know how it is. Always something to do as the Governor of Theed."

He doesn't know how it is, actually. But he nods along anyways.

"Would you like anything, Rex?" Anakin calls from the kitchen. Rex, for his part, sits awkwardly on the couch. Luke and Leia are sleeping in their cribs to the side of the room. Cute kids, Rex thinks. Although they're certainly menaces when they're awake. "We've got—well, just fruit mostly. Oh, there's some wine over here too—"

"Fruit would be nice."

"Excellent." Anakin says, and joins him with a plate full of pears.

"They're cuter when they're asleep," Rex responds, eyes still on Luke and Leia.

Anakin laughs at that. "Tell me about it. When they're awake, they make it their mission to tire out their father as much as possible."

"Well," Rex says with a half smile, "it's good that you're there for them."

Anakin nods absentmindedly. "Force knows I must have exhausted my mother when I was their age."

His mother. Right.

"You didn't have a father. . . did you, Anakin?" Rex says uncertainly. He's not really sure where this is going—the words are just. . . flowing.

"No." Anakin says, blinking rapidly. He turns back to Luke and Leia. "The closest thing I had was. . . well, my Jedi Master, I suppose. Obi-wan Kenobi."

Obi-wan . . . Obi-wan Kenobi. Wait. 

"He . . . died, didn't he?" Rex says slowly. "He died. Fighting Sidious."

Anakin's head snaps up to look at him. "What did you say?" he says softly.

"I don't. . ." I don't know. He has no idea where that came from. But. . . it's true. He's certain of it. But then what. . .? 

"Rex." Anakin's looking at him differently now. Recognition has dawned in his eyes, recognition that Rex hadn't even realized was missing until now. "Captain."

"General." Rex says. Suddenly it feels like a fog of some sort is lifting.

"You don't belong here, Captain."

"What?" Rex says, then— "No. No, Anakin, wait—"

He blinks and it's all gone.

He's standing back outside the entrance to Theed.

Alone.

[swranger]

So Clearly Depicted

Ahsoka inspected the buildings as she walked by, half expecting to see some kind of scar from the previous explosions. She was pretty sure it had been these ones that had been ripped apart by the Separatist bomb. If she was right, they had been reconstructed and the burn marks so thoroughly scrubbed from the surrounding structures that she could not be sure.

What about the people? she wondered. She watched the people of Kiros going about their day-to-day tasks, laughing and talking, with children darting in and out of their parents’ legs, dodging and shrieking with laughter.

It hurt, in a way that Ahsoka didn’t quite understand. Maybe it was because she was tired from the journey. Perhaps it was because she had been on the front lines, and it had affected her so deeply, that to see a place so seemingly untouched by the war seemed incomprehensible. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because she had just walked away from the only home she had ever known, leaving her master and the Jedi to fight their war.  

 Kiros had been affected by the war, of course. Ahsoka herself had been part of an effort to rescue them from enslavement. There were a lot of Togruta that were rescued from Kadavo after the first wave of Republic ships left, too. Now here they were, having resumed their lives, free to play and grow things and create, and Ahsoka didn’t know what to think.

She looked up at the governor’s tower, turning in that direction. She was happy for them, of course. She had come to see how her people were recovering, and if there was anything she could do to help. Governor Roshti might be able to tell her of the greatest need.

The bottom floor was more of an art gallery than any kind of office. The front desk was empty, so Ahsoka looked around for a lift or some stairs. She was walking toward it when some of the paintings on the walls caught her attention.

They were beautiful, with delicate lines and expert use of color and light. Most were elegant portrayals of family, landscapes, and heritage, full of greens and blues and cheerful color. Ahsoka’s steps slowed, her feet becoming heavier beneath the depicted smiles and hopeful landscapes. She stopped dead as her eyes slid from an angelic family hug to a larger panel near the center of the wall.

The bottom of this painting was a fiery portrayal of Togruta suffering amidst reds and darker hues, running from shadowy figures wielding whips of gold light. To one side, a tiny figure was holding the pursuers back while the Togruta fled towards the sunny distance of what was clearly Kiros. The figure assisting them was small, indistinct, but was marked clearly as a Jedi by the ignited green saber it yielded.

Ahsoka stared, transfixed by the imagery. Kadavo’s red was streaked across the canvas for all the world like phoenix wings, spreading and reaching for a brighter sky.

A lump lodged in Ahsoka’s throat. The admission of their suffering was clearly depicted, but so was their hope and strength.

But she… Ahsoka related more to the Jedi: small and indistinct, her identity linked to the symbol of a lightsaber.

“You don’t belong here, young ‘un.”

Ahsoka whipped around, startled by the voice. A graceful female Togruta had appeared, one hand on the desk. She was smiling kindly, unaware that her words had set Ahsoka’s heart to aching.

“The exhibition is the building over,” she continued. “Your group is probably looking for you.”

Ahsoka’s cheeks warmed at the admission of how young she was and the assumption that she was lost. They have no way of knowing who you were, she reminded herself. “I was hoping to speak with Governor Roshti,” she said aloud.

The woman shook her head. “I’m afraid the Governor is not in today. He is out preparing for the festival.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka said weakly. “Of course.” Clearing her throat, she summoned a smile as she left. “Thank you.”

She didn’t bother looking for the Governor, after all. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong here. You don’t—Ahsoka bit her lip. She had held on to some of her people’s traditions and holidays while training as a Jedi. She loved her people. And yet… This wasn’t her home. Her home was Coruscant, for better or for worse.

But this time, she would not be defined by a lightsaber.

[imwhite-blog]

That mother needs to have her brain examined.