Hello everybody! Thank you so much for your patience with me, and I am so very excited to say that I've finally gotten past my writer's block and am ready to continue on! Please R&R as always!

…

"You really shouldn't do that, Master."

Anakin rolled his eyes as his Padawan gave him a pleading glance, throwing away his face mask at the door. The nurse at the front desk had given it to him, despite his objections, and told him that he must keep it on at all times in the presence of his student. He discarded her warning along with the mask without a second thought. He wasn't afraid his Padawan would infect him..if he was going to catch this illness, surely he would have fallen ill with the rest of his men. On the off chance that she did, at the very least it would mean that she didn't have to be all alone.

"If I was going to get sick, I would have already." He told her with confidence, sitting on the edge of her bed. "How you holding up?"

"Not good," she said, holding her hand out to him. He examined it with a crestfallen look, seeing her pale skin and blue nails. "I don't think they're supposed to be that color…"

"Everything will be ok, Snips. You'll see…" He took her pale hand in his own, placing it back in her lap.

"That's...that's the thing, Master...I don't know if it will." She said quietly, her tone low and heavy with sadness.

"Of course it will, Ahsoka. You just have to have faith in the Force." He looked her in the eye, hoping his words sounded convincing, but her face showed no emotion.

"But I've had faith, Master. I can't reach the Force, I can't feel it or see it or use it. It's abandoned me when I need it most, and I can't find my way back. I won't become one with the Force when I die and it's terrifying…"

"Ahsoka don't talk like that." He said in a firm tone, his expression hardening. "You're not going to die. I won't let you."

"But it's not up to you! You can't fight this for me and I can't keep fighting much longer. I don't know if I'll make it out of th-"

"Dammit Ahsoka I said knock it off!" He said, suddenly standing in frustration. "Stop talking like you're dying, you're not! They're working on a cure, and everyone's gonna make it out ok."

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to get a grip on his anger… He opened his eyes, and noticed too late a tear running down his Padawan's cheek.

"Ahsoka... Oh, Ahsoka I'm sorry…" He said, barely above a whisper, realizing what he had just done. Scooting her over gently and sitting next to her, he cursed himself a thousand times over for yelling at her. She was scared enough as is, and certainly didn't need his harsh words on top of it all. He brought her closer to him, trying not to cringe at the scorching temperature of her feverish skin. She offered no response, only turning slightly into his chest in return. Her weak breaths felt like practically nothing as he wrapped his arm around her, cradling her to his chest.

He rested his cheek on her montral, gently stroking her back as he hugged her.

"I'm so sorry, Ahsoka, I shouldn't have yelled… I'm sorry. I just can't think about losing you, I won't. You're gonna be alright, I promise…"

He sent her calming waves through the Force in an attempt to settle the child, but little did he know his efforts were entirely in vain. Ahsoka had long since stopped feeling the connection to her master, as well as any other being in the galaxy.

"It's fine…" she said quietly, so much so that he had to strain to hear her. "I'm sorry."

"I lost my head… I guess I'm just stressed." He said, although it was no excuse.

"Hey, what else is new?" He chuckled, realizing the truth in her words. He sat up from beside her, repositioning himself on the end of her bed facing her, preparing a deck of cards he had brought with him. They played mindless games, talked and joked for hours, and for a small while things almost felt like normal Whether from the exhaustion or the comfortable position she rested in, Ahsoka found herself growing quickly tired, her eyelids gaining more and more weight by the second. She drifted off to sleep slowly, then all at once, her playing cards still in her thin fingers. She felt at peace for the first time in a while, although she wasn't sure what awaited her in her dreams.

…..

Anakin sat in his Padawan's room with a sick feeling in his gut. He deserved to get hit by a speeder for yelling at her the way that he did. The guilt coiled in his stomach as he rehearsed a thousand different ways to apologize to her when she woke up. He was glad that she was getting some rest, but it disturbed him the way that he couldn't hear her breathe, only being able to tell by the faint rise and fall of her shoulders.

What he wouldn't give for a drink at that moment. Though it was frowned upon by the Jedi for sure, a nice glass of bourbon would do wonders to settle his frayed nerves. He knew he had only snapped at her because he couldn't get a handle on his own fear, not without a stiff drink, and that idea made him want to die of shame. He knew it was extremely against the Code to rely on outside substances, of course, but he had learned to appreciate the power of a little liquid every now and again when he just couldn't get a grip. He was supposed to be the most powerful Force user to ever live, and yet he couldn't properly deal with his emotions when it came to those he cared about. Of course, this was why the Jedi Code forbid such attachments, but what was he supposed to do? Not care? His feelings were already established, so why shouldn't he find a way to cope, even if it was unorthodox?

He was the Hero with No Fear, allegedly, but if the masses saw him like this he would be stripped of his name instantly. He wasn't afraid...he was terrified beyond belief. If this illness decided to take his master, his padawan, or his friends in the 501st, Anakin didn't know how he would go on fighting. As he sat there in that hospital room, observing the faint rise and fall of her chest, he decided. Nothing would take them from him… Not this illness, not the will of the force. A battle began to rage within him...and he was determined not to lose.

He stayed there for a while, thinking. Sure, he was no doctor, but there had to be something that he could do. He refused to sit idly by as this virus took everything from him. About an hour had passed, and gradually he noticed Ahsoka attempt to shift positions, but her weak muscles couldn't perform. She had a sheen of sweat on her face, and her breathing was alarmingly shallow. He stood quietly, grabbing a cloth from the cabinet and wetting it with cold water. Wringing it out, he approached her once more, and noticed her eyes fluttering open.

"Hey, Snips. Here," he said, placing the cloth on her forehead. "I'm so sorry I snapped at you. I still feel like a jerk. I'm just stressed, and tired, but it's no excuse."

"It's fine, Master, I understand. I'm sorry I cried like a child. That was pathetic. You were right though, I just need to be more positive and stop acting like a youngling. It's hard without relying on the Force, but I need to try harder."

"Honestly, Snips, you can act however you want, and nobody would have the right to say anything. You're the one fighting this sickness, you're working harder than anybody."

"I suppose.."

"Hey," he said with a smile, getting an idea. "How bout I go down to the cafeteria and see if I can find anything good?" He patted her head, earning an eye roll, and left the room.

….

Once she was alone, Ahsoka groaned in embarrassment. Why did she cry like that? It was completely unlike her to break down when people yelled. She was a Jedi, tough as nails. She always took a step back and examined the reason the person yelled, and worked her way toward a solution from there. Anakin yelled plenty, sometimes to her, rarely at her, but never before had she reacted with tears. And now, he would be afraid to be stern with her ever again. He would be extra nice to avoid hurting her feelings again.

It made Ahsoka want to scream out in frustration. She didn't want his pity, and she didn't want to be patronized. This type of situation was exactly what she always tried to avoid, and up until now she had done a pretty good job. She had made him perceive her to be tough enough to handle it like a commander, not a scared little girl. Had one time been enough to undo that? Damn this illness for messing with her like this.

She would not let this make her lose sight of who she was.

She would not lose control, not ever again.

When she slept, she had dreamed again. This time, however, no ominous voices or shadowy figures visited her. It was simply a replay of everything that had happened since she fell ill. She had tried to keep the illness from him for as long as she could. Of course in hindsight, it didn't matter, but it proved how hard she tried to uphold her image. Master and Padawan were more alike than they knew, both refusing to show the other their weakness.

But the difference was that now, she was the one in the hospital bed, powerless. How could she look anything but weak? She used to be able to do anything, it seemed. Now even her own lungs couldn't keep up. Ahsoka would rather go down fighting, in a fiery blaze of glory, than to quietly pass in a hospital room. The hardest task was to accept that it wasn't her decision.

…

Anakin stood in the lift with muffins wrapped in a napkin. He had managed to grab the last ones, making sure that he saved some for Ahsoka as he took a large bite off of one. As he savored the cake, his comm link began to glow, making that force-forsaken beeping noise that he so despised. Grumbling in annoyance, he swallowed the too-large bite with much effort.

"General Skywalker, here."

"Skywalker, at last you answer." Anakin felt the dread creep down his spine. It was Master Windu, and he didn't sound happy at all.

"I'm sorry Master, I've had my comm off. I'm just at the hospital with Ahsoka."

"We know. You've been summoned back to speak with the council regarding your Padawan and give a report."

"Are you sure it can't wait, master? I'm concerned about her, and I'd like to spend as much time with her as possible."

"Unfortunately, Skywalker, we're fighting a war. We don't always get what we'd like. I'll expect to see you here in an hour."

As the lift came to a stop, he tried his best to take a deep breath to calm himself. The lack of empathy for him, let alone Ahsoka, was staggering. But he didn't have much of a choice but to comply, if only to prevent things from getting worse. He walked down the hall to his Padawan's room, bracing himself to say goodbye to his sick friend, and he loathed every step.