When You Come Home

-8-

It was late by the time Anakin had finally finished studying. He had lost himself in a world of geography, history, and mathematics, and all sense of time had gone out the tall windows that encapsulated him. Once or twice he had wondered why Cody hadn't come looking for him, but mostly he was too engrossed in his studying to care.

He flipped one last page of the massive encyclopaedia spread across the floor. He could have used the helpfully provided computers and digital pads for studying, but there was something about leafing through real pages that held a romantic charm. Especially when he was so comfortable. Lying flat on his stomach, propped up by both elbows, he had his knees tucked up backwards, feet swinging casually. It was his favourite position to catch up on homework, flick through a comic book, or scroll social media. The only part missing to this perfect picture was Luke. The little sausage dog would normally snuggle up in the crack between his arms and fall asleep, his tiny nose under his spindly tail. A sudden moment of panic seized him, and he found himself digging through his pockets to find his phone. Where was Luke? Was he alright?

Upon failing to locate his phone, he snapped the book shut and shoved it back into its space on the bookshelf. How had he forgotten about his dog?

He scrambled to his feet, looking around for the exit. He had to ask Cody where his phone was. Hopefully he had calmed down enough that he wouldn't shut him down immediately.

He left the library, trying to back-trace his steps to his dorm. His father wouldn't have fed Luke; he cared nothing for the dog. Luke had been Anakin's sole responsibility: food, clean-up, and vet bills. If he didn't contact someone, the dog would probably starve.

He stopped in the middle of a four-path intersection. It had been hours since he had come this way, but he was sure he gone straight ahead to get here, so he followed the path backwards.

But who could he contact? His father wouldn't be concerned. Kitster was ... well, there was no knowing if Kitster was in any position to help. Rex! He could ask Rex to help.

His footsteps slowed as he approached a T-intersection. He hadn't exactly parted on the best terms with Rex. He likely wouldn't even answer the phone if he saw who was calling.

Anakin glanced between the corridor straight ahead and the one on his right. He had a vague memory of turning, so that would require him to veer off the main path. He just hoped his instincts were good.

But wait, what was he thinking? Rex had Luke! He had offered to watch the dog while Anakin raced Kitster. How could he have forgotten? But was he willing to rely on Rex's kindness and hope that his friend had taken Luke home? Or, knowing Rex's over-heightened sense of rightness, would he have returned Luke back to Anakin's apartment? Qui-Gon wouldn't even notice if Rex had done that. Luke knew better than to ask Qui-Gon for food.

Anakin let out a frustrated huff, sliding one hand around the back of his neck. He had made another turn, and he didn't recognize his surroundings at all. Now he was lost literally and mentally. What should he do now?

Hearing voices, he moved quietly down the narrow hall, stopping at the swinging double doors. That was the mess hall! He recognized that place. But why was it so empty? Had he missed dinner, or had it not begun? What was Cody going to say? Would he be kicked out of the army on his first day, disgraced, disowned —

"Kid?"

He whipped around, head ducking in fright. He quickly balled his fists, straightening up again in readiness. But it was just Fives. His bright smile identified him instantly, putting Anakin at ease.

"What are you doing out here? Food's been and gone."

"I ...," Anakin frantically tried to think of a better way to explain himself. "I heard voices and decided to check them out."