When You Come Home

-48-

Coruscant was raining. It didn't rain that much in Coruscant, but when it rained, it rained hard. Anakin couldn't quite believe that he was entering this country under the same weather he had decided to leave it. Literally speaking, it had been a warm and sunny day as he marched out of Coruscant on his first deployment all those months ago — it was probably coming up to a year now, but he had lost track of time after the disaster on Tatooine. But really the moment he had decided to leave Coruscant was that fateful night in Beggar's Canyon, when the roads had been slick with newly-lifted oil and the buildings had glimmered with wet reflections. His time training at the military hadn't counted towards his living in Coruscant because his heart had long left it.

And everyone in it.

Yet it seemed his heart could not be tamed. Because at the sound of the honking traffic, and the smell of greasy street food, and the taste of pollution, his heart leaped. The pushing, bustling crowds, the blinding advertisements emblazoned in shop windows, and the shouting, desperate vendors hawking their wares meant comfort. The ocean of silver spokes and copy-paste office buildings, sprawling out like a massive grey caterpillar with its ridges and lumps, could only belong to one metropolis. And that metropolis was his home.

Thankfully, they didn't have to plunge through the city's heart to reach their barracks, although that didn't stop the noise and the smell wafting out to meet them. Such sensations Anakin could never erase from his mind, having been immersed in them for a little under fifteen years.

But GAR headquarters were located just far enough out of Coruscant that, if Anakin squeezed shut his eyes and pinched his nose, he could convince himself it belonged to a separate country. That he had not come home. That he really had left on that dark, rainy night.

He had expected that time would speed up and that the next few hours, or maybe even days, would fly past in a blur of instructions, congratulations, condolences, and maybe even admonition, but that it would all wind up after Cody's funeral, with Anakin sitting alone on some building, wondering how he had managed to avoid Rex and Kitster — should he still be alive — and Father and maybe even his precious Luke, but that he would then be recommissioned — assuming they hadn't found out about the whole "talking about Jedi" debacle — and would hopefully continue to captain the 212th and continue winning the war for the Republic and protecting everything he knew and cared about. Except that he didn't want to captain the 212th if they had found a new commander because no one could replace Cody. And even if they hadn't, how could he face his men, his brothers, again without Cody? Because after all, it was his fault that Cody had died. They would never say it, but they must have known. So perhaps he should request to join the 501st because he knew and liked a few of the soldiers there. Except that Ahsoka wasn't there because she was Jedi. Which he shouldn't technically know because he could get kicked out of the army. So perhaps he would just have to slip into some other battalion as another invisible face, a gun with arms and legs and no mind, just another weapon to win the war. If he wasn't captain then he wouldn't have responsibilities and it wouldn't be his fault if people died. But if he knew how to save people, shouldn't he use that knowledge instead of wasting it and having people get hurt? Maybe Cody was right. Maybe he was too young for this. Maybe he should—

But, as it turned out, none of this happened. Because instead of condolences or congratulations or instructions, he was met with the stony face of a Jedi he was pretty sure was named Mace Windu.

"What are you doing here?" The question was flat, needing an explanation not an excuse.

Anakin faltered, dripping onto the grey flooring. "Returning to base, sir."

"On whose orders?" His dark eyes bored holes right through Anakin.

"N-no one's," he stammered, forcing his back to straighten in respect. "I'm Captain Jinn of the 212th division—"