Anakin had spent his entire life trying to escape his past. Not just his childhood, where he was a nobody, and not a day went by without being reminded of it, but his recent past as well. The last months of his life in the temple, which brought him nothing but pain. Or rather, it wasn't them, but three people whom Skywalker considered closest to him. They caused him pain by renouncing him, almost openly. His adoptive father, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, the man who taught Anakin what it meant to have a real father. Who he was and what he should do for his son. Show care, pay attention, love — in short, everything that Skywalker's biological father did not do. He was a drunkard, a gambler and a lecher who used his winnings to buy beautiful slave girls and do whatever he wanted with them, having unlimited power over them. And he never forgot to remind them of this. He didn't care about contraception, considering safe sex to be stupid, and so his slaves were constantly pregnant with his children, who either miscarried as a result of his incessant perversions or were born weak and sickly and soon died. It is unknown how many children their owner managed to father with his concubines, but of all of them, only Anakin survived. It is incomprehensible how he endured the beatings his mother suffered during pregnancy and the lack of warmth, food and comfort. But he overcame it all and persevered, defying all adversity. And only ten years after his birth did he understand why. Because of the abnormal amount of midi-chlorians in his blood — creatures that provide sensitivity to the Force. By that time, his mother, the quiet and gentle Shmi, had been sold by the scoundrel to another owner, who in turn sold her to a third, Watto, the owner of a spare parts shop. It was there that Anakin met two Jedi, who took him with them to Coruscant and gave him a completely different life, one he had never dared to dream of. But his past would not leave him alone, reminding him of itself every day, every time he looked in the mirror. The older Skywalker grew, the clearer he saw the features of his closest relative in his own face. Not his mother's. Little by little, Anakin began to hate his blond wavy hair, his huge blue eyes, the sensual lips on his strong face, and the dimple on his chin, which many girls found attractive. Oh, why wasn't he born looking like his mother? But no matter how hard Anakin tried, he couldn't find anything in himself that resembled the short, dark-haired, brown-eyed Shmi. In everything and everywhere, he saw only the features of his hated father. The traces of his bad blood continued to flow through his veins like a slow poison, killing him from within. In order to get rid of this resemblance, Anakin tried to distance himself from his father as much as possible, at least outwardly. He grew his hair almost to his shoulders, stopped sunbathing, and wore only dark-coloured clothes. But he still understood that this was not a solution and that he could not escape his past, no matter how hard he tried. It was inside him. Only those who had been with him since the beginning of his Jedi career helped Anakin distract himself from destructive thoughts about the past. For example, the chancellor, who had always protected him and in whose office he always found kindness and a willingness to listen. The one who had effectively become his father. But he turned out to be a despicable, two-faced traitor, even worse than his own father. At least he never hid his true face, pretending to be a friend and ally, when in fact he was a Sith Lord named Darth Sidious. But if that had been the only disappointment in people that Anakin had experienced, it would have been bearable. But no, there was another person whose memory now caused him no less pain. His mentor, his best friend and almost his older brother. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the one who taught Anakin the wisdom of the Jedi arts. The one whose authority was unquestionable and whose praise was priceless. What did he do when the truth about the Chancellor came out? The reason why Order 66 separated them forever. The thing that Anakin decided not to remember, distracting himself with the third person close to him who left Skywalker in a difficult moment. Ahsoka Tano, his own apprentice. His continuation. His deeds, his endeavours, like a sword is the continuation of the hand. They were one, living as a united organism where everything was shared: victories, defeats, pain, happiness. She was the only one who supported Anakin when Padmé left him. Ahsoka was there for him, constantly trying to cheer him up and keep him from getting bored. He looked at her differently then and saw her in a new light. A thought even crossed his mind and managed to take shape, but... But Padmé returned, announcing that she was expecting a child, and Ahsoka, without explaining why, left the Order that same day. The words Anakin had prepared for her remained unsaid. They simply no longer had any meaning. All his feelings and desires were once again directed towards Padmé, and his concern for her almost managed to push thoughts of the past, both distant and recent, out of his mind. But then Ahsoka reappeared in his life and reminded him once again. She constantly reminded him of his imperfections. However, if not her, then what would happen to the children? Anakin knew nothing about newborns and was simply afraid to even approach them. After all, they were so fragile, one careless movement and the consequences would be irreparable. But he knew very well what it was like to grow up lonely, unloved and unwanted. The feeling of emotional deprivation and lack of parental love followed Skywalker throughout his life, and he did not want the same for his children. Ahsoka loved them, and everyone could see it. She loved them in a way that even he couldn't. Anakin cursed under his breath, using words he had never uttered since marrying Padmé, and entered the house. Ahsoka sat on the bed with her back to the door, feeding the twins. They had obviously inherited their father's appetite and were now noisily and greedily suckling at her breasts, waving their arms happily. To be honest, Ahsoka felt joy at this, and it was not always pure and bright. She was overwhelmed by a feeling of vengeful superiority that she was able to feed these children, while Padmé, pure, noble, perfect Padmé, could do nothing more. Everyone here considered her a worthy woman, a true ideal, and every time she heard her name, Asoka's self-esteem suffered cruelly. However, Luke and Leia already loved and would always love only her, not their pampered mother. Oh, how she wanted to muster up the courage to throw it in the face of that self-assured fool, their father. He had called her a dirty, shameful word. And when she entered the house, Asoka could not calm down for a long time and stopped shedding bitter, angry tears. But then she got up and resolutely pulled herself together. She was not what he thought she was. No. And that meant she would not cry about it anymore. Yes, there was nothing she could do about what had happened to her. What happened, happened. But she had fought desperately, with all her strength, and each time the result was the same: bruises, abrasions, pain and humiliation. Sometimes she managed to escape and wait it out somewhere until the end of the night, but more often than not, she didn't. Asoka closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, pushing away the painful memories. At that time, she wanted nothing more than to die. But if she had killed herself, who would have taken care of her mother? Asoka's life had not belonged to her until her mother died. Only then was she able to escape. So were Luke and Leia also born as a result of such a dirty and vile act? Had Anakin also abused Padmé in such a cruel and humiliating way when they conceived her? But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't imagine Anakin in Robert Tano's place. After all, if Katuni was to be believed, he had almost worshipped Padmé. Hearing the door slam, Asoka straightened up, all three leeks lashing her bare back and shoulders. And all the words Anakin had managed to prepare flew out of his head the moment he saw her slender, supple back, tapering smoothly towards her waist. It was the very dress that had driven him mad, which she had let slip down to her waist and was now looking at him from behind her orange shoulder, her eyes wide with innocence.
"What are you doing?" Anakin asked, the first thing that came to mind.
"I'm feeding them before bed," Tano replied calmly and unperturbed. Wasn't she ashamed at all? She could have at least reproached him for entering without knocking. Although, that would have completely enraged Skywalker. After all, it was his home. It seemed that Ahsoka sensed something in his gaze and hurriedly turned away to the children.
"Do you need something?" she finally asked.
In fact, Anakin wanted to apologise, but now he realised that would be too much, so he said something else instead:
"I wanted to talk to you.
Ahsoka didn't answer, but continued to look at him over her shoulder. She should at least get dressed, honestly. Anakin could only see her back and shoulders, and his imagination was already running wild with all sorts of indecent thoughts. Padmé would never feed the children if someone else was in the room. But Anakin stopped himself, because if he allowed himself to think about Padmé, he would definitely not say what he wanted to say.
"Thank you," he said, interpreting her silence as an invitation to start a conversation.
"And what for, I wonder," she said mockingly after a long silence. "For not bringing men here and not serving them in front of you and the children?
"Damn you!" Anakin couldn't hold back. "I actually wanted to say something nice to you.
"Something nice?" Tano narrowed her eyes, looking at him. "I didn't think calling me a whore was a compliment."
"I was wrong to say that about you," Anakin was forced to apologise.
"No, damn you, you were wrong to think that," Asoka said sharply, looking away.
"Don't you dare talk back," Skywalker rebuked her, unable to find a quick response.
"You started it," the Togruta refused to back down. "And why all the grand gestures? Are you afraid I'll run away from you when I meet someone who doesn't treat me like cattle and leave your children to starve to death?"
Anakin didn't answer. First, he was too angry at her words, and second, he simply didn't expect such a violent outburst. Never before had Ahsoka allowed herself to say anything like that to him, and Skywalker simply didn't expect it from her. Ahsoka also remained silent, realising she had said too much. She took the twins from her chest, laid them in bed, and covered them with a blanket. Then she slowly buttoned her dress and turned to look at Anakin.
"So what were you thanking me for?"
"For saving my children's lives," came the unruffled reply. Ahsoka looked at his face again. There was still anger in his eyes, but there was also sincerity, and if that was the case, then she had to accept his gratitude, however it was presented.
"In a way, they saved me too," she replied at last. "Thanks to them, I no longer want to kill myself, and if it weren't for my milk, I would have been on the other side of the Force long ago. So, I guess we're even, Master."
Why did she say that? Not only did she remind him of the milk, forcing him to look at its source, which was barely contained by her tight dress, but she also called him by his old name. When the Order was still intact, when Padmé was alive. However, Tano herself took this glance as a reproach:
"I'm sorry, I know the dress isn't very nice, but I don't have another one.
"Good night," Anakin said quickly and headed for the exit.
"I'm sorry you have to sleep in the hallway because of me. Is it very uncomfortable?" she asked after him.
"Anywhere is better than next to you," Anakin wanted to say, but instead he just muttered a curt "No" and hurriedly closed the door behind him. Ahead of him lay another night of thoughts and dreams that he wanted more and more to make come true.
***
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