All the Colours of the Rainbow

Blue

Anakin paced the room, casting his gaze at the half-shut blinds. His pupils shrunk momentarily as the headlights of a passing speeder split the dim, blue lighting of the Coruscanti night filtering through the slits.

Gone.

He paused at one end of his apartment, clenching mech hand into flesh one as they sat clasped behind his back. Then he turned and prowled back to the other end.

He was gone.

He kicked a scrap of metal into the corner, scowling as it burrowed into the shadows of the unlit room. Obi-Wan would scold him for leaving his apartment so messy.

But Obi-Wan was gone.

So it didn't matter what Obi-Wan wanted, did it?

Because Obi-Wan was dead.

Shot through the heart by a bounty hunter. It wasn't like he was one of the best Jedi that the Order had ever raised, was it? It wasn't like he was strong, and smart, and quick, and kind, and gentle, and everything that Anakin could have ever asked a brother to be, was it?

Maybe it was.

But if it was, or if it wasn't, it didn't matter.

Obi-Wan was gone.

And he wasn't coming back.

"Anakin?" A soft knock at his door caused his blue eyes to flick up in expectation. The Togruta teen entered his apartment noiselessly, stepping over the minefield of invention parts and metal bits that carpeted the floor. "You can't sleep either?"

Anakin silently shook his head, holding his arm to the sixteen-year-old. She accepted immediately, burrowing into the safe warmth of the young man's chest. He wrapped both arms securely around her, resting his chin between her pointy montrals, and hugged her until her sobs ceased.

___

"Skyguy?"

Anakin's eyes popped open, his pupils adjusting to the dark blueness of his room. He half-sat up, awkwardly leaning on one elbow as he blinked at the big pupils and wide eyes of his padawan. She was part way through the task of crawling onto his bed, interrupting the few hours of precious sleep he had managed to grab — not that he minded.

"Hey, Snips," he slurred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His arm automatically reached towards her, his fingers fumbling to create an opening in the blankets large enough for her to burrow under.

She obliged willingly, snuggling into the warmth left by Anakin when he shuffled over. When she had sufficiently squirmed and locked herself into his embrace, Anakin tipped his chin down, peering at his trembling padawan.

"Nightmare?"

She nodded, entwining her fingers into his sleep tunic. For a beat, she was silent. Then she said in a small voice, "It's my fault he died."

"No, Ahsoka," he reprimanded her gently, pulling back to look her dead in the eye, "in no way was this your fault. You did everything you knew to do. Mistakes happen, but this time, they weren't made at your hand."

She sniffled, pressing her cheek against his warm chest. "It's not your fault, either."

Anakin listened as her breathing evened out and felt her relax in his embrace. At least one of them would get a good night's rest.

___

"Ahsoka, fall back!" Anakin shouted over the cacophony of the battlefield. He could see the orange blur that was his padawan ducking and weaving through the lines of droids. But there was no way they could win this battle from their position. They had approached the Separatists from a bad angle, sacrificing the high ground unwittingly. They would have to regroup and hit them from another side.