My Unfortunate Fate

chapter 59

Distractions are all about ignoring one's problems and saying they're fixed.

"Feeling any warmer?" Anakin asks.

We've been back in our room for about two hours after spending the day out in the cold. Today really proved that I can spend time with Anakin anywhere and in any circumstance without feeling uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I was relieved when we returned.

He turned on the fireplace soon after our return, trying to warm my body once again. Despite this attempt, my body remains cold; this feeling concentrates on my extremities.

"Not so much," I reply. My leg is still shaking, so I raise it and fold it over my other leg to keep my warmth close to my body. I wrap my arms around it.

My husband is holding something in his hand as he walks closer to me: it looks like white, thick fabric. Kind of like a carpet. "I know, I shouldn't have brought you out so soon. I should've considered—"

"Hey, don't say that," I stop him. "It was perfect. I don't care how horrible I feel right now—that idea was perfect."

He blinks and nods in understanding, a light smile rising on his lips. "Still, you're recovering. It was my mistake to not tell you."

I scoff in disbelief. "You don't get it, do you?"

Anakin finally sits down beside me on the couch, handing me the small towel in his hands. "Get what?"

I take the towel, looking at him carefully. My hands warm up at the touch, leading me to rub them over and over again. "You don't get that I don't care where I am." Anakin gives me a confused look, urging me to explain further. "I mean, I don't care if I'm nearly freezing or as hot as in a Wookie's fur. When you're with me, I feel safe."

His eyes widen and he stiffens. He's unsure of how he should reply to my statement. His surprised look doesn't last, as Anakin reaches over and pulls me into a desperate embrace. I untuck my leg and realize that he's never held me quite this tight.

I let my head drop on his shoulder, breathing in and out, slowly, calmly. The hug feels so frantic that I have to try to placate him. After a moment, I place the warm towel back on the small table beside us, reaching my now empty arms around Anakin's waist.

"You were wrong," he whispers.

I know our current predicament well enough to know exactly what he's talking about; when we parted ways, almost seven years ago, I told him he'd be fit to train a padawan of his own.

And I won't take that back.

"I was right," I reply softly, rubbing his back with my fingertips. "Ahsoka couldn't have been taught by anyone better. You did well. As well as you could."

"Please"—his breath hitches, his voice cracking halfway through the word—"don't lie to me."

"I don't have any motive to lie right now. Ani, I'm telling you how I've seen things for the past few years now."

He stays mum for a long moment of consideration. I can feel the pain and guilt in Anakin's mere presence, now that we're so close. And I know, I've known for days, that he thinks it's his fault that Ahsoka left the Order. But even though I wasn't there, or even conscious at the time, I know he's blowing things out of proportion.

This reminds me of the conversation we had the other day when I admitted that I've never seriously considered us having any children of our own. It makes me realize that Ahsoka—and Caleb, although I haven't known him long—have grown to act as that.

"You... you weren't there," Anakin says. "You don't know. If only I had talked to her..."

"Please stop," I interrupt. "You did all you could. I know you did. Don't be so hard on yourself, Anakin, it'll only make you feel worse."