Anakin pauses, watches Ahsoka go. The air in the room seems to follow her out the door. The Jedi watch Anakin carefully, unsure of what his next move is going to be. He looks at the beads still clutched in his hand. A small defeated noise escapes from his throat and he breaks into a run, following Ahsoka, desperate, desperate, desperate for something, anything that even resembles an explanation, or else, just to beg her to stay. Obi-Wan tries to follow him, without thinking. He knows Anakin, and he knows that Anakin needs him, they both need him. But Plo Koon stops him, one scaly hand resting firmly on his shoulder. Obi-Wan looks back at him. Master Plo shakes his head.

"This is between the two of them," he says softly. Obi-Wan wants to protest. Master Plo doesn't know Anakin the way Obi-Wan does, no one does, except perhaps Ahsoka, and Ahsoka is walking away. Whatever they thought of Anakin's destructive anger before will pale in comparison to whatever he is going to do now. They don't understand. And Ahsoka is as good as his Padawan. He has had as much a hand in her training as Anakin has. She isn't just walking away from the Order, from Anakin. Obi-Wan knows that he must let her go, but he wants to say goodbye.

He meets Master Plo's eyes and remembers, suddenly, that he is the one who brought Ahsoka to the Temple when she was small, that he passed up the opportunity to train her because he loved her already, citing a conflict of interest. That after all these years, Ahsoka and Master Plo have remained close. He, too, defended Ahsoka. He, too, failed her. And he does know Anakin, through Ahsoka, but also, because Anakin makes himself known, and of all the Jedi Masters, Anakin has a soft spot for Master Plo Koon, whose deep gravelly voice is calming and commanding to all who hear it, even to Anakin. Plo Koon doesn't chastise Anakin half as much as the other Masters. Instead, he finds Anakin refreshingly obstinate and funny. Admirable. A very promising young Jedi.

"He needs her," Obi-Wan says, stunned by the sentiment. There is something dark sitting in the pit of his stomach.

"Maybe," Master Plo agrees. "But that too is between them."

Obi-Wan finds Anakin sitting on the Temple steps hours later, after it has gotten dark, after the temperature has plummeted and Anakin is shivering in the cold. He hasn't moved since Ahsoka left him on the steps. Anakin's presence in the Force is still raw, unguarded. Obi-Wan sits beside him, his knees cracking, taking Anakin's hand to stop him from worrying a hole into his pant leg. Anakin looks up, a shock going through the Force, and then – nothing. Shields back up, and the unsteady presence of Anakin's Force signature disappears to nothing more than a ball of light, a heartbeat reassuring Obi-Wan that he's alive.

Anakin swallows. Whatever he is about to say must seem futile, useless, won't bring Ahsoka back. So he says nothing, yanks his hand out of Obi-Wan's, but he doesn't go back to rubbing his leg ferociously, thoughtlessly, like he could rub the memory of Ahsoka out of his body. Anakin clears his throat.

"What's going to happen to Barriss?" Anakin asks at last. Obi-Wan is startled by the question, how calm Anakin sounds. How the Force beside him isn't rustling with his apprentice's emotions.

"The Order will deal with her," Obi-Wan admits softly, waiting for the explosion from Anakin. It doesn't come. Anakin just blinks at him, a little confused, a twinge in the Force badly concealing the anger he knows Anakin feels. Obi-Wan continues, fighting past the knot in throat. "The Council was disgusted with how the Republic handled Ahsoka's trial. The Chancellor had no qualms making his feelings about the case clear; Barriss will never get a fair trial now. They – we thought it best to handle it ourselves, no matter what the Supreme Chancellor or the senate has to say."

"What are you going to do with her?" Anakin presses.

Obi-Wan sighs. "We don't know yet. But we can't expel her from the Order."

"Hmmpf." Anakin grunts and stands, but he doesn't move to go inside. He's so tense he's shaking. A little bit of the anger Obi-Wan was expecting is leaking out now, into the Force, across their bond. Anakin takes a deep, shuddering breath, looks down at Obi-Wan. "Okay," he says, his voice notably missing the venom Obi-Wan is expecting. Anakin's clamped down hard on his anger, and Obi-Wan wants to chastise him for it, but he knows it will sound petty, vindictive, a little sanctimonious now, coming from him. And it's better than the alternative. The Temple guards made sure to report on just how angry Anakin was.

"I'm sorry, Anakin, for what it's worth," Obi-Wan says at last. It's the least he can do, and Anakin seems to think so too, judging by how much colder the Force between them grows.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Anakin spits. "Don't stay out here too long. It's cold."

It is cold, Obi-Wan notes, watching Anakin reenter the Temple. Much colder than it should be.

Anakin doesn't speak much to Obi-Wan after that. In fact, it seems like Anakin has gone out of his way to avoid Obi-Wan at all costs. He doesn't come when he's summoned, turns down a different hallway when he sees Obi-Wan, and he worms his way out of missions that he knows Obi-Wan will be on until the Council has had enough. Obi-Wan doesn't push the matter. He's been Anakin's friend and mentor long enough to know that Anakin will work through his anger faster if he's left alone; getting involved will only provoke him further. That's a lesson he learned last year, when he faked his own death. No amount of explaining himself or apologizing would make Anakin come around, but he did, eventually. On his own. And if Anakin has decided to place the entire blame on Obi-Wan's shoulders, then it's a burden that he'll have to bear. It's not as if he doesn't deserve it. It's not as if he couldn't have done more. He's tried to tell himself he did all he could, but that was before – before he knew that the Council would abandon her, that the Republic would execute her. If Anakin wants this to be Obi-Wan's fault, at least for the time being, Obi-Wan will gladly accept it.

There is a war going on, however, Master Windu reminds Anakin severely after three weeks of Anakin skulking around the Temple. "The Jedi have suffered a great loss, and you in particular, Young Skywalker," Master Windu admits. Anakin is too busy staring at his own boots to see the sympathetic looks on the Masters' faces. "It's no easy burden to bear, losing a Padawan, even when she is not gone, but we must…" He sighs heavily. "You must trust in the Force. You have a duty, just as she does, though it may be different now."

Anakin clenches his fists at his side. The only person more guilty than Obi-Wan is Mace Windu, only Master Windu hasn't had over ten years of dealing with Anakin to know when it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. Every word he says grates on Anakin's nerves and Anakin is making a show of it; every Jedi in the room can feel his anger just below the surface. Yoda is staring very pointedly at Anakin, trying to make eye contact, and though Obi-Wan knows that look as nothing more than a gentle admonishment, he also knows that Anakin will take it as an attack on his personal character.

"So," Master Windu continues. "You and Master Kenobi will be sent to lead the Outer Rim sieges. They need you on Sullust, Skywalker. Are you up for the challenge?"

"Of course, Master," Anakin answers through gritted teeth. The Council dismisses Anakin gently, and Anakin returns the favor by turning sharply on his heel and stalking out the door. A couple of the Masters make sympathetic noises towards Obi-Wan as they pass; they don't want to be on the receiving end of Anakin's rage, justified or otherwise, and they certainly don't want to trapped in a confined space with him for the foreseeable future. Obi-Wan doesn't admit that it's better this way. Even angry, it's better to be by Anakin's side. And this way, Obi-Wan will be able to keep an eye on him.

Anakin seems to have moved on by the time they board the cruiser. Obi-Wan sees him sneak surreptitious glances to his side and the little bit of grief that flashes on his face when he realizes that Ahsoka isn't there, but if any of the clones notice, they know better than to say anything. And while he's a little curt with Obi-Wan, Anakin still rewards him with a grin every other day or so. Slowly, it seems, that Anakin comes back to himself. Leaves his anger with Obi-Wan and the Jedi behind him.

If he's a little rougher when they spar, or a little more haphazard as they charge into battle, Obi-Wan chooses to ignore it, not mention it, chalk it up to the length of this war. It's taking their toll on all of them. If the bags under Anakin's eyes grow darker each day, so do Obi-Wan's. He hopes the war ends soon, for all their sakes.

Anakin isn't sleeping again.

Obi-Wan knows because Anakin is falling asleep during a transmission with the rebels on the planet as they orbit Sullust, while Obi-Wan tries to explain why they are unable to aid them.

"You helped Onderon," the Sullustan rebel insists.

"Our involvement was limited," Obi-Wan explains again, kicking Anakin awake subtly. "A valid secession or a democratic election does not warrant the involvement of Jedi."

"Why did you come all the way out here then?" the rebel spits, his hologram flickering menacingly. "Surely, the Jedi have better places to be then stuck in our orbit."

Anakin huffs a laugh from where he's still dozing on a few crates of ammunition, his head resting in his hand. "Take it from me," he grunts. "The Jedi have no idea what's best for them."

Obi-Wan ignores him, the way he's done for the better part of a month, and the rebel eyes him warily for a second before he turns back to Obi-Wan. "Can't you do anything?"

"We operate under the discretion of the Senate," Obi-Wan says, rubbing his eyes. Anakin is nodding off again, his head dipping every few seconds as he tries to keep himself awake. "We will ask again. I am very sorry." And he means it. The longer the war goes on, the less and less he feels he is allowed to do, the more futile their fighting is becoming.

"Thank you, Master Jedi," the rebel says, suddenly sincere. He's watching Anakin with concern, and maybe the Sullustan rebel understands what the Galactic Senate cannot; the Jedi are stretched too thin to help systems that are under the control of the Republic, let alone ones that voluntarily seceded. "May the Force be with you."

The hologram winks out. Obi-Wan sighs and turns to Anakin who is well and truly asleep now. Lucky they are alone in a conference room, abandoned and used for extra cargo, on board the Vigilance, though Obi-Wan doubts any of his men would say anything to Anakin about falling asleep during a meeting. Maybe before, earlier, before the clones were as tired as the Jedi, they may have teased a little, sympathized even, but now…

"How are you feeling?" Obi-Wan asks, shaking Anakin's shoulder a little to rouse him. He blinks up at Obi-Wan blearily, but he shrugs.

"Tired, just like everyone else," he says, groaning as he stands. It's still a little shocking to Obi-Wan to see Anakin unfold the way he does, to stand a couple inches taller than Obi-Wan. Anakin moves out from under Obi-Wan's hand and his concerned gaze. "I promise, Master. I'm fine."

Every bone in his body is telling him to let it go. Anakin will work out whatever it is that's bothering him, the way Anakin wants it to be, but there's a gauntness to him in the low light of the Vigilance – the conference room, the passageway, the bridge, their own quarters – that won't leave Obi-Wan alone. "When was the last time you slept?" he asks instead, following Anakin back to their quarters. Anakin stops with his hand over the button to open the door. Obi-Wan tries to ignore the way it trembles slightly.

Anakin shrugs again. The pause was almost imperceptible. The door slides open and Anakin lays down on his bunk. "I don't know," he offers as an answer. "I don't sleep well on the front." He rubs his eyes and turns over to face the wall. Obi-Wan waits until his breathing evens out a little to leave.

He doesn't feel like it's necessary to mention to Anakin that they're hardly on the front, stuck in the orbit of a planet they're not allowed to engage.

It only gets worse, over the next few days. Anakin struggles to keep his eyes open during briefings, falls asleep when he's supposed to be on patrols. He tosses Obi-Wan down on the mat while sparring with all the aggression he can muster, something bitter and cold burning behind his eyes and doesn't help Obi-Wan up, because he's doubled over, arms resting on his knees trying to catch his breath. The Force is silent between them, except for a faint and persistent buzzing, and a knot in Obi-Wan's stomach he can't untie.

Obi-Wan lands hard on the mat, his head bouncing off the ground after another round. Anakin is panting hard, his jaw set defiantly, daring Obi-Wan to say something. The twinge of concern that flies across his face is fleeting as Obi-Wan stands. They move to begin again, but Anakin stiffens.

"What do you want, Rex?" he snaps without turning around.

"Sorry, Generals," he says. He's still standing at attention, completely motionless, watching Anakin carefully. "There's a transmission for you on the bridge."

Anakin huffs and turns off his lightsaber. The room darkens even more.

"Thank you, Captain," Obi-Wan says, dismissing Rex, who turns to leave with more haste than he normally would. It seems that the clones are keeping a wide berth of Anakin lately, if they can help it. Even Rex, who has described Anakin unequivocally as a friend in his own serious way.

Obi-Wan waits until Rex's footsteps have faded into the rest of the din of the ship before following, Anakin in tow.

"What do you think the Council wants?" Anakin grunts.

"How do you know it's the Council?"

He grunts again and shrugs. "A feeling." Even from a Jedi, even from a Jedi like Anakin, it was hard to believe. "Besides, who else would it be?"

Obi-Wan chooses not to answer or engage. Even if Anakin's anger at him has abated a little, though the bump on Obi-Wan's head begs to differ, his anger at the Council is still blazing inside of him. That much is clear.

"Are you sleeping okay?" Obi-Wan asks instead. Subtlety is not Anakin's forte, after all. Anakin plows ahead, pretending he hasn't heard him. "Anakin," he insists.

"I am fine, Obi-Wan," Anakin bites back. It stings a little, Obi-Wan muses, the way Anakin answers him when he's upset. Or maybe it's just Anakin – still raw, and when he's unguarded, Obi-Wan feels it too. Neither is appealing to Obi-Wan. "I thought we would be back on the front, not trapped in Seppie space. I'm stir crazy and you can't help me."

With that, Anakin storms onto the bridge, clones unconsciously moving away from him as he passes. It feels like a wall has slammed down between them.

Anakin doesn't sleep, or he oversleeps and misses briefings, dragging himself down the halls of cruisers or across their encampment, his hair too long and falling in his eyes, his eyes distant, sunken. He won't let Obi-Wan help him. Won't look Obi-Wan's way. If he shows up later and later, the Council doesn't say anything. They've long since given up trying to reprimand Anakin, and they've taken a page from Obi-Wan's book. Let him sort himself out on his own, mourn on his own, heal on his own. If it gets them a few more wins, then they can't complain.

It's months after Ahsoka has left that he finally opens up. Anakin's electric and bright for a second, coming up with a plan, and he slips, Ahsoka's name falling from his lips before he can stop it. And then he clams up, his shoulders hunched, a few steps ahead of Obi-Wan and widening his stride so no matter what, Obi-Wan cannot catch up to him.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan says softly, tearing his eyes from the tracks in front of him. All day (all week, all month, perhaps all year – Obi-Wan tries to think about when this pattern of behavior started, and he can't remember if it was before or after Ahsoka left) Anakin has been moody – shifting from extreme to extreme, and now that they're doing nothing but walking, tracking, he seems to be crashing, like a star collapsing in on itself.

"Forget about it," he bristles, keeping a safe distance away from Obi-Wan. "She's gone." Obi-Wan tries to ignore the way his voice breaks.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Obi-Wan asks anyway, knowing the answer. Knowing that once, Anakin would have wanted nothing more than to talk about it. There's too much, now. Too much heartbreak in Anakin's life, and too much anger at Obi-Wan for his role in her departure.

"There's nothing to talk about," Anakin insists, and finally slows his pace enough to let Obi-Wan catch up to him.

"Perhaps we should stop for the night," Obi-Wan suggests. "Sound like a plan?" Desperate for Anakin to have any reaction whatsoever, even to insist that they can keep going until it gets dark.

Anakin shrugs. "Whatever you say, Master." His silence worries Obi-Wan more than the dark cloud between them in the Force. Anakin won't look at him, won't even face him, as they set up, build a fire, pretend the silence in the growing night doesn't bother either of them. Well, it may not bother Anakin at all, who seems perfectly content to light every dry piece of kindling on fire without adding it to the pile. Soon it's hard to say if the darkness is coming from the night or the smoke or from Anakin himself. Maybe Obi-Wan was wrong this time, he thinks, staring at Anakin who is watching the end of the stick in his hand smoke listlessly. He looks exhausted and like a strong breeze could knock him over. A checklist of questions asked and answered and inappropriate coming from him, at least recently, wash over him, and he wonders if he should have pushed the issue – is Anakin sleeping, is he eating, please talk to me, or if not me, someone –before now, before it's come to what seems like a breaking point. Maybe he's ignored the tremors in Anakin's hands and the stiff set of his shoulders for too long.

"Dwelling on Ahsoka's decision won't bring her back," Obi-Wan tells him before he can decide if it's a good idea or not. He sighs to himself, already knowing that this night will end with Anakin yelling, trying to instigate a fight.

"I miss her, okay?" he says, groans, red creeping into his cheeks, embarrassed or angry or both. "Is that what you want me to say?" He tosses the stick he has been using to stoke the fire into it and it sparks with an alarming amount of ferocity. "I still can't understand how she could have decided to leave the Order," he continues, almost to himself. The floodgate is open now, and all the silent conversations, arguments, pleas for her to stay, he has been having with himself for months now come rushing into the Force. The devastation almost knocks Obi-Wan over and he pulls up his shields, just a little, to keep himself from falling over into the abyss of guilt (some of it his own, some of it painful and awkward and distinctly Anakin's) and grief.

"It was a surprise to all," Obi-Wan says hoarsely, tears pricking at the back of his eyes.

Anakin stands with a jolt. "It was wrong! She's a Jedi. She belongs with us." His back is to Obi-Wan now, obstinately staring into the sunset. His shoulders are shaking just a little. Obi-Wan opens his mouth, though he's not sure what he wants to say, the second jolt of Anakin's feelings pounding against the walls of his shields shocking him. The depth of this perceived wrong astounds Obi-Wan in a way that he knows it shouldn't. He reaches across their bond tentatively, gently, trying to make Anakin understand in a language more native to them both. He turns, stares down at Obi-Wan, his eyes glistening a little in the afternoon light. "She belongs with us," he repeats, his voice breaking again.

"She made the decision, Anakin," Obi-Wan begins, the speech he's had prepared for months and months, and the one he's been telling himself. When he began to believe that Anakin had been right all along. If only he had done more, said something more.

"Well what choice did we give her?" he wonders, gesticulating wildly. The fire pops. "The second there was a question of her loyalties the Council turned their backs on her!" Anakin turns away again, his words ringing ominously in the air between them. Suddenly, Obi-Wan knows this is about more than just Ahsoka.

Only he wasn't prepared for this – maybe he should have been, maybe he's known Anakin and his bundle of insecurities he tries so hard to pass off as confidence long enough to know that this was coming – so he, instead, continues with his speech, perfectly rehearsed. He knows that it will, at best, fall on deaf ears. "I will grant you that mistakes were made, but Ahsoka chose this. Part of the Jedi way is not letting emotion cloud your better judgement, and that's precisely what Ahsoka did." It feels hollow now, saying it aloud. What choice did they give her? How could she ever come home when she knows the Jedi were willing to throw one of their own into the gutter with nothing more than a gentle nudge from the Senate? When at sixteen, she was almost executed for a crime she did not commit, and insisted upon her innocence at every turn, when not a single Council member truly believed she had it in her, but well – she was Anakin's Padawan after all, and better Jedi than she have fallen before? How could she come back to that, Anakin sitting on the Council steps for hours (and days, every night Obi-Wan saw his silhouette against the setting sun, waiting for her to return) or no?

And worse, Obi-Wan thinks, to Anakin it sounds like an admonishment. His behavior has been the opposite of Jedi like. The Council has been ignoring it, because they know he's still grieving and he's a little strung out, and it's been getting them results. And, if Obi-Wan doesn't tell them the full story, they think there's nothing to worry about, or that Obi-Wan is handling it. But Anakin knows he has been out of line.

Obi-Wan is answered with nothing but silence and the occasional crackling of the fire. "Why don't you get some rest," Obi-Wan tries, desperately.

"I'm not tired," Anakin answers, his voice low and dangerous. "You can rest, Master, I'll keep first watch." Obi-Wan knows he should press the issue; Anakin looks like he can barely keep his eyes open, but he doesn't want the fight Anakin's voice and the Force are promising.

So Obi-Wan lays down, back to Anakin. "You can't blame yourself for Ahsoka's decision, Anakin" Obi-Wan says seriously, one last ditch attempt to talk Anakin down. To get him to think about something, anything, else.

"How would you feel if I turned into a major disappointment?" he asks, and even though Obi-Wan is prepared for it this time, this switch where it is clear that Anakin's feelings have been hurt, his anger at the Council turned suddenly to disappointment and to fear – that Obi-Wan would do the same to him, leave him, feel anger towards him. Ahsoka did not disappoint Anakin – the Council did. It still stings, Anakin's neuroses on full display like this, the something-darker bubbling inside of him like it's some secret shame he can't keep hidden for much longer.

"It's not the same," Obi-Wan tells him. He's too tired to explain it to Anakin, how he's now just projecting onto Ahsoka. And the idea –the mere thought of Anakin walking away or worse is too much. He can't let go of Anakin the way he knows he should be able to. He wants to say that Anakin should be proud of Ahsoka and her clear-headedness, her strength. He can't manage it, images of dreams and memories best forgotten, of Anakin dangerous and wild and unhinged, swimming in his vision.

"It's precisely the same," Anakin insists carefully. "You took me under your wing and practically raised me. I'm your Padawan, just like Ahsoka was mine. How well would you sleep knowing that I failed you?"

It does not escape Obi-Wan's notice that Anakin framed himself as Obi-Wan's Padawan now, still, in the present. He wants to ask, really ask, if he feels like Ahsoka failed him, or if he feels like he's failing Obi-Wan, in some way. But he can't. Still can't shake the terrible feeling in his gut that this is not the last time they will be having this conversation, that this is not the last time Obi-Wan will be asking himself these questions.

"Not very well, I imagine," he answers lightly. He already failed Ahsoka, and Anakin's reeling mind reeks more of Obi-Wan's failure than of Anakin's. If he could only help his Padawan, his friend, his brother, if he could only offer the kind of support Anakin so desperately needs, then maybe Obi-Wan would feel more like a colleague of Anakin's and less like a babysitter, maybe they wouldn't have almost died today, maybe they could have one discussion without Anakin walking away in tears, parts of Jedi cruisers torn up unwittingly. Maybe Anakin wouldn't feel like he had to hide that part of himself that he is afraid of. "Luckily, it's not true, and never will be." Obi-Wan tries to sound as confident as he can, but he feels the two of them at a precipice, about to tumble over. Either of them could slip first, no saying what was at the bottom, and they would pull the other one with them. The Council's money is on Anakin, but Obi-Wan hopes it's him. He thinks the landing might be softer if he's the one pulling Anakin down instead of the other way around.

It's been almost a year since Ahsoka has left the Order, and they – Anakin and Obi-Wan – have fallen into a new, but otherwise normal routine. Anakin's a little more irritable than he was before, but maybe that's just the war. Anakin is still young, nearly twenty-three. He was only nineteen when this war started, and it seems to have aged him far more than the rest. Maybe it's his destiny, ever-looming, a terrible gut feeling that this war is his responsibility, even if it isn't his fault, even if he didn't ask for any of this. Still, there's a sense of freedom, of hope, that the war will be over soon, that they'll all be free from this, if they can make it. Somedays it feels like Obi-Wan is holding on by the skin of his teeth, and he's sure he doesn't feel half as desperate as Anakin does, who sleeps a few hours every third night and picks at his rations and whose voice has grown deep and flat. He still tries to joke around with Obi-Wan and his troopers, but his heart – his mind – is always elsewhere. Coruscant, he thinks, and a certain senator whom he left behind on uncertain terms. That's the rumor at least.

Besides the occasional outburst, the two of them are trudging along just fine. Completing missions, destroying droids and Separatists, and making it back in one piece, more or less.

They're on a planet, the name of which Obi-Wan already cannot remember. It's important for resources, and there are no people there. Only a few clones have come down with them to scout, leaving the cruiser in Rex's capable hands. They're sweating in the afternoon sun, and Obi-Wan is thinking about a shower and a good rest when Anakin's comlink chirps.

"Sorry," Anakin grunts before Obi-Wan can criticize. They are on a reconnaissance mission after all. "It's Rex," he offers as an explanation or an apology. "What's up, Captain?"

"General Skywalker, sir," Rex greets him formally, voice grainy over the com. "Is General Kenobi with you?"

"Yes."

"You both need to come back here, immediately."

"Back to the cruiser," Anakin echoes, casting Obi-Wan a curious glance. Obi-Wan shrugs. "Why?"

"It's best if you saw for yourself, sir," Rex answers.

"Okay," Anakin concedes. "Obi-Wan and I will be back as soon as possible. We're leaving now."

Anakin hangs up, and Obi-Wan follows him to where they hid their fighters. Over their coms, Obi-Wan asks Anakin what he thinks has happened.

"I don't know," Anakin snaps, but once they land, Anakin has his lopsided grin plastered back onto his face, greeting clones confidently, cracking jokes. Obi-Wan would believe the act if he couldn't feel the anxiety rolling off of him.

Obi-Wan sees her before Anakin does, the shape and markings of her lekku unmistakable. Her orange shoulders are drawn back and she's in deep conversation with Rex and some of the other clones. Those who knew her are smiling gently, eyes shining, their helmets held bashfully in their hands. Anakin is too busy keeping up his bluster to notice her right away. Rex doesn't even have a chance to say anything, to announce her, though, before Anakin notices her. He stiffens, gasps softly around the first vowel of her name. Obi-Wan glances up at Anakin, hoping, praying, and suggesting as subtly as he can over the Force, that Anakin will keep it together for long enough for Ahsoka to explain what it is she needs.

Ahsoka turns in the hologram, but she might as well be in the room. Bo-Katan stands behind her. Ahsoka must be on Mandalore, dealing with Maul. How she ended up there is beyond Obi-Wan, and he thinks he should have stayed. Oh, he should have stayed. Ahsoka is only a child, she shouldn't be on Mandalore. He wants to apologize, for banishing her, for forcing her to clean up his messes, for sticking her with Anakin in the first place.

Ahsoka only has eyes for Anakin. "Master," she says, a tiny smile playing across her lips. "It's been a while."

"Ahsoka," Anakin gasps, closing the distance between himself and her hologram, looking for a moment that he is going to reach out and grab her, crush her hologram in a hug. He releases all the tension in his shoulders he's been holding there for almost a year.

Ahsoka smiles in earnest, looking now at Obi-Wan. She bows to him curtly. "Up to anything important?" she asks lightly. Anakin trembles next to Obi-Wan, so Obi-Wan does the only thing he can think of; he lays a hand on Anakin's shoulder to steady him.

"No," Obi-Wan answers, though he is sure that Ahsoka is asking Anakin. He is also sure that Ahsoka, of all people, understands. He's not looking at Anakin's face, but he's sure that there are fresh tears there, mixing with the sweat of their late afternoon trek in the jungle.

Anakin swallows. "What's wrong, Snips?" he asks, his voice shaking too. "You haven't…are you okay? Why…?"

"I can handle myself, Anakin," she assures him. "I just…need a little help. We've got a little situation on Mandalore."

"I've gathered," Obi-Wan says, looking over Ahsoka's shoulder to Bo-Katan.

"Maul's still in charge over here," she explains to Anakin, mostly. Bo-Katan doesn't have to explain much of the situation to either of them, but well…Anakin wasn't there when Satine died. "I'm tired of living under Sith rule. I called this little ex-Jedi," she says gesturing to Ahsoka. "And we've done good work, but we could use a hand."

"Uh…yeah," Anakin stammers. He hasn't looked anywhere but Ahsoka. "Is that why you called, Snips? What can we do?"

"We need you to come to Mandalore," Ahsoka explains.

"The Jedi won't –"

"Oh you don't have to convince me," Ahsoka reminds him, and Obi-Wan is surprised, though maybe he shouldn't be, by the bitterness he finds in her voice. "Tell them they owe me one." Anakin manages a wet sounding laugh. Ahsoka turns to Obi-Wan. "I'm gonna send Rex what we have on Maul's little enterprise. If you can give us any advice, that would be helpful, but…"

Obi-Wan is glad to see her, looking so alive. He didn't even know he had been worried about her until he saw her standing there alive, happy for the most part. Better off than Anakin at least. She's dirty, Obi-Wan can tell even from the holo, but she's smiling at him, as if all is forgiven. She looks at the two of them with such warm fondness, Obi-Wan can feel it across the galaxy. He knows Anakin feels it too, since Obi-Wan is basically holding Anakin up. "We'll do what we can," Obi-Wan promises. "More."

"Thank you, Master," she says, bowing again. She looks at Bo-Katan awkwardly, who steps out of the frame of the holo. "Master, can I…speak to you privately?"

Obi-Wan is surprised by the request. It's clearly making Ahsoka uncomfortable. "Of course, Ahsoka. What about?"

"I have some sensitive questions about Mandalore," she explains. About Maul, or Satine, then.

"Rex," Obi-Wan directs. "Transfer the transmission."

"Yes, sir."

Ahsoka turns to Anakin. "Don't worry, Skyguy, I'm gonna talk to you too, just gotta speak to Obi-Wan first."

Anakin looks relieved. "Age before beauty and all that," he murmurs in a half-hearted joke.

"Don't flatter yourself," Ahsoka says, before her hologram winks out and the call comes through on Obi-Wan's personal comm.

Alone now in an abandoned conference room, Ahsoka fills Obi-Wan in on all the details of the goings on of Mandalore. They are in upheaval, of course, and none of it is news much to Obi-Wan. She speaks a little about Satine and her family, asks for Obi-Wan's advice, and then there's a lull in the conversation. Ahsoka looks away.

"Master, I'm sorry about all of this," she says meekly.

"About what?" Obi-Wan asks, taken aback. Ahsoka hasn't done anything wrong, by any account.

"About all of it, about Maul, and Satine, and dragging you back in to having to deal with Mandalore again," she says, earnest. The sympathy of someone who loves you well. Obi-Wan misses this about her most of all, her earnestness and her heart. "And about Anakin. About leaving the two of you behind."

"Ahsoka, I am the one who should be apologizing," he tells her. Ahsoka is already shaking her head, ready to protest. "Ahsoka, please. Anakin is right. Someone should have stood up for you. It should have been me. I never for a moment believed you were guilty, but I wasn't able to stand against the decision of the whole Council. It's not an excuse. Just a reason. And an apology. I am sorry that you felt you couldn't return. I am sorry that I didn't – that I wasn't able to convince them of your innocence."

"You don't have to apologize," Ahsoka says. "This has been, over all, a good decision. The right path for me, I think.

It rings true for Obi-Wan, and he's known it for months. One way or another, Ahsoka would find her own way, without the Jedi. And yet, there is still longing there. Perhaps Ahsoka is a better Jedi than any of them. Perhaps that is why she had to leave. "We miss you, young one," he tells her softly. Some clones are walking by, some of his, not Anakin's, so he trusts that there will be no rumors of his misty eyes being spread amongst the Jedi.

"I miss you, too, Master Kenobi, but," she sighs heavily. "I'm not gone. I just needed some time away from the Jedi. Away from Anakin."

The heaviness that fills the air when she talks about him is not a coincidence then. She is worried about him. Perhaps she should be. "How is he?" she asks, chewing on her lower lip. It seems like she spent the whole conversation working up the nerve to ask Obi-Wan this one question, a question he has never known how to answer, especially not anymore.

Obi-Wan sighs too.

"Don't tell me it's the war, Master," Ahsoka snaps. "Every time I tried to ask Anakin or anyone else about how they were doing, they would always tell me that it's just the war. It's not an answer."

Taken aback, Obi-Wan chuckles to himself. Ahsoka's sharp eye is fixed on him intently. She has acquired much of Anakin's fire and decorum, but more confidence, real confidence, than he's ever seen Anakin possess.

"How are you, also?" she adds. "Though same rules apply, Obi-Wan. You don't get to tell me that 'it's the war.'"

He can't help but laugh at her, some deep anxiety lodged in his heart breaking free. For a moment he feels much younger than he is, a peer of Ahsoka's, someone she can lecture and laugh with in equal measure. A good friend. "I am tired, Ahsoka, and I am ready for the war to be over, but, in spite of everything I am good," he says, and finds he is not lying to keep his friends and peers from worrying. "The truth is, young one, I have been worried about whether or not you would forgive me. I felt that I failed you so terribly. I know now that I did not. Even if I should have done more to support you –"

"All is as the Force wills it," Ahsoka finishes, smiling. It feels good to speak about the Force with Ahsoka, who knows it the way Obi-Wan does. Mysterious but native to her, a comforting, palpable presence. No pretensions about what she knows, and not the terrifying foreign thing he knows is Anakin's connection to the Force. All is as the Force wills it, though sometimes they could only see the shape of their destiny in hindsight.

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirms. "And you have come back to us, even for a little while."

"I'm not gone," she repeats. "How's Anakin?" Insistence, almost desperate, fills her voice. She promised that she would speak to him, and Obi-Wan knows they haven't spoken since she left him on the Temple steps. She is nervous, maybe rightfully so, that Anakin will feel betrayed still after all these months. "He wasn't doing well before I left."

"Oh."

"You didn't know?"

There is much he doesn't know, Obi-Wan supposes. "In what way?" he inquires lightly, in an attempt to recover some ground he feels he has lost. How could he have not known that Anakin was struggling?

Ahsoka just shrugs. "I don't know, maybe it is just this war," she muses. "I just felt like he was…on edge, a little. Angrier." She shakes her head again, and when she speaks, her voice is thick with badly concealed tears. "I didn't want to leave him. I love him, Obi-Wan, and I know he loves me. And I didn't want to leave him because of that, but also because I thought, he needs me to watch out for him." She wipes the tears off her face. Obi-Wan realizes that this girl sitting in front of him has become a woman, but that she is still young, seventeen. At seventeen, Obi-Wan was barely four years into his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. At seventeen, Anakin had yet to go on a solo mission. Ahsoka has spent the last year alone, wondering if she should have made a different choice. No one to talk to, no one to counsel her. All her usual confidants were either traitors or would beg her to return. Even Obi-Wan. She takes a deep shuddering breath. "That wasn't a reason to stay. Not any of it. And I wanted to come back, but I – when Anakin held out my beads to me, I saw how easy it would be to take them back – to take him back – but I saw…I saw my future with him. It was clouded and I realized something. It wasn't my path. And I don't know how to tell him that after everything, it was him that made me realize I need to leave. He won't – he won't be able to – I can't." She is crying again. Really crying. Obi-Wan thinks back to everything he has been through with her, and he doesn't think he has ever seen Ahsoka cry. He wants to reach out through the hologram to her, comfort her.

"Oh, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan cries. Please look at me, he thinks. He suddenly can't tell her how much worse Anakin has gotten, can't put all of that on her shoulders to bear – alone – as well. "If Anakin is the man we both know him to be, perhaps he will see your strength and he will be proud of you," he says instead. Perhaps Satine was right; all he is half-truths and hyperbole.

"Perhaps," Ahsoka muses. She wipes her face. "Thank you, Master Kenobi." She inclines her head respectfully, but also to hide the remains of her tears from him. "Please let me know, one way or another, what you plan to do."

"Of course, little one," Obi-Wan says. The call disconnects. Ahsoka's hologram winks out.

A/N: This is like. a little bit of a disclaimer that I have all sorts of warm + fuzzies for the Jedi Order so that nobody is out here, saying things like "anna thinks the jedi got what was coming to them." No. stop that. ultimately, this was the Right Choice for Ahsoka and other wise she would be dead. not to be That Guy but the Force works in mysterious ways. Thanks. (Also, forreal thanks for reading this mess I've been working on it since July, since before the clone wars was Announced to be alive and I had an entire extra scene to throw on to the end.)

A/N2: Also, there may or may not be a follow-up (and much shorter) story from Anakin's perspective. Let's just see how the semester goes.