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No one ever questions Anakin’s title of the best star pilot in the galaxy. Except Obi-Wan really. Ahsoka would count herself in but it was mainly his landings that needed work and she wasn't one to talk.
She was getting better with every lesson, although she knows in her heart she’s better at repairing ships than she is piloting them. Mainly because she had quite the disadvantage in doing so. Her lekku stole a fair bit of her peripheral vision, something that was usually rectified by her echolocation of sorts.
This rule doesn’t apply in the dark vacuum of space. Sound unable to travel outside of the ship, leaving her to rely only on the force. Another difficult task when her specialty in the force was reading one's emotions and sensing danger. It just so happens it was Anakin who excelled in the force with his reaction times, hence his prowess for pod racing and his subsequent induction into the order.
So Ahsoka can say with certainty she’d prefer her master fly, especially when it rewarded her with the same thrill of a coaster at those amusement parks on planets she’d always begged to go to but had never been allowed since they always had work to do. Anakin had always promised to sneak them off to one after the fact but they were always too tired or too hurt to withstand the thrill rides they wanted to experience.
She can’t imagine it’d be all that pleasant being whipped around with broken ribs and bruises already lining her person.
The togruta feels her stomach drop as R2 whirrs in alarm through the comm, the pressure shifts and Ahsoka finds herself held back against her seat when Anakin sends them in a nose dive in an attempt to avoid another enemy ship aiming to lock them in and blow them to pieces. Her heart is in her throat, blood flushing through her montrals as she grips the armrest for dear life.
Trying to breathe in and out. There's an assurance in the air from her master but she can’t make it out as he suddenly began to spin out. A flash of green bolts appeared through the transparisteel keeping them safe from the vacuum of space, letting her know he was doing his best not to get them blown through.
Her organs feel as if they're turning in her gut, wrapping around the bottom of her ribcage and looking for purchase against the onslaught of momentum on her small body. Eyes watering, Ahsoka is forced to close them to avoid tears streaking over her features. Her head suddenly pangs, body jolting forward to reach out towards her master.
Whether it be to pull him closer to her and his own seat, to warn him, or even just for her own comfort she doesn’t know. Not when a curse falls from his lips and R2 screams as they pull into the nearest planet’s atmosphere. The landing gear is damaged , is what she thinks he says. Dots begins to blur her vision, body painfully pushing back against her seat as the winds push at their ship and send her smacking back against her seat.
From then on it’s black and nothing more than an explosion of pain.
Anakin’s eyes opened in a panic, lungs heaving as he turned his head frantically to the left and the right. A pole taking up the left side of his peripheral, it brushing his cheek as he turned his head. If it had been an inch or two more it would have gone straight through his- Ahsoka!
His body protested at his sudden jump in movement. Reminding him of a stuck hex nut finally popping off a rusted droid. Body twisting - in the opposite direction of the pole since he wouldn’t be able to get to her that way - and immediately his face went white. Ahsoka’s head hung low, chin to her chest, and the pole that’d nearly slaughtered him lodged deep into her shoulder; through it.
The end the rest of the way through her seat, the force alone likely shattered some bone. His eyes blur with welling tears, and angrily he wipes them away with his prosthetic arm. He doesn’t bother with twisting back around to find the right button to open the hatch, using the force to send it flying off with a loud whine of steel tearing and sparks flying.
Climbing over his seat, Anakin is careful to step into the small space and not encroach too much as he drops a hand to the back of his chair and rips it from its place. The action was simple, the crash had loosened its tether to the ships flooring immensely. It’s a wonder and shere luck it hadn’t broken and sent him right out the front.
“Snips?” Anakin whispers, barely able to find his voice as he crouches in the space he made. Hands delicately moving up to cup her cheeks and lift her face. Her nose was bleeding, blood tracking down her lips and chin, lashes fluttering at the movement. Instinctively one hand slides to the back of her neck, under her lek which a mere brush of his fingers to causes her to cringe. Likely bruised to hell but he can’t pull her forward to check.
“R2,” he mutters, unable to find his voice again before he shouts, “R2?” it cracks as his thumb sweeps across her cheek. Willing the girl to wake up. How long had she been unconscious? How long had he been unconscious?
The droid rounds the corner, beeping brokenly as it assured reinforcements had been called. It’s a small relief, a very small one as he drops his head lightly - not even realizing it was possible - but even in his upset he’s so utterly careful with his padawan as his forehead rested between the peak of her montrals.
Channeling the force was difficult in his worry, the point of contact between them making him focus better. Reaching out across the bond they’d built together and strengthening it. Channeling as much energy as he could without putting his own self out of commission, and stealing what little pain he possibly could when his own was threatening to overwhelm him.
His throat is far from dry, something he should have noticed earlier. Something that doesn’t matter to him unless it directly gets in the way of him comforting his padawan. Especially when it was him who’d put her through this pain. He hadn’t managed to get out of the bolts way, the one that affected their landing, that had made it so this damn bar skewered her.
Guilt eats him alive as a mantra of “Please,” tumbles from his lips. Her eyes are still far from opening.
“Ahsoka please,”
Obi-Wan settles in the chair beside his padawan, the chosen one wrapped in gauze and swollen with all the bacta patches tucked against his skin. Ahsoka’s hand is cradled between his own, said padawan heart-wrenchingly frail and still on the cot before them. Tangerine skin wan where it wasn’t blackened and bruised.
They were preparing the bacta tank so the chosen one wouldn’t be able to hold her for long. In fact he wasn’t supposed to be at her side either. He’d abandoned his own bed in favor of being closer, keeping a watchful eye on her because even in a Jedi temple with healers and warriors about, to Anakin the safest place for her was always at his side.
The healers were less than happy about this but they knew better by now not to try and wrangle him or tear them apart. Knowing it would only make things worse, and him simply sitting around wasn’t going to aggravate his injuries so there was no reason to ask him to get up and move.
Obi-Wan sets a comforting hand on Anakin’s shoulder, noticing the way the younger man’s jaw was tensed and his eyes steeled into the girl's prone form.
“It wasn’t your fault,”
The jedi doesn’t move. Doesn’t respond, listless until the healers approach, the bacta tank ready for her. Tension floats in the air as they approach to take her. None of them went far enough to insinuate he needed to let go of her hand. In fact they were willing to let him walk with them until she needed to be fully emerged in the tank.
Thankfully he lets her go before they even have the bed raised for transport. Knowing and too drained to argue with them since she needed the bacta tank, needed to be fixed because of his mistake. He feels like the worst master in the world.
Surgery is needed after her dunk in the tank. Nothing excessive, her organs needed to be untwisted and re-fed into her gut. No scars left and it’s only then after the fact Ahsoka wakes. Eyes wide and open as she searches out for her master, merely remembering moving up in her seat as they were crashing to reach out for him.
He’s there now, finally within her reach, and Ahsoka doesn’t hesitate to lean forward and rest an arm on the back of his shoulders from where he was leant over her cot.
It’s telling that he doesn’t stir, making the young girl realize he was probably hurt as well. Not as badly but hurt nonetheless, his position likely not helping the whiplash they’d surely received.
Ahsoka doesn’t need the force to feel his guilt either, his brow down turned even as he dreamed. She doesn’t blame him for the crash, she wouldn’t have even thought to blame him in the first place - something he should know by now but then again this was Anakin.
Such a reaction should have been expected. Ahsoka would tell him when he woke that getting skewered was a far better alternative than being blown to pieces but that doesn’t even make her feel better. So it most definitely wouldn’t help him. With her indecisive thoughts, Ahsoka’s hand idly running through his hair - still finding hair itself to be fascinating, but only for so long -she begins to grow restless.
Finally able to perk up in the slightest when her grandmaster steps into the room, noting with pleased wide eyes she was awake and pleasantly surprised Anakin was still resting. Gingerly Obi-Wan makes space for himself on the other side of her cot, taking a seat and running a comforting hand over her montrals.
“I’m glad to see you awake little one, we were worried,”
Ahsoka finds herself unconsciously looking down at that, feeling embarrassed still but it doesn’t last long as his petting hand wraps around her shoulders in an embrace. The togruta all but melts into it, her face hiding in his throat as her weak arms curled around his middle. At some point they reclined and the healers stared upon the resting lineage with fond eyes.
“Padawan,” Anakin grouches, voice leaning on stern. It’s enough for Ahsoka to slide out from under the ship - having wanted to get started on the repairs. Technically she was still supposed to be on bed rest and Anakin had ordered her away from the loading docks, not wanting her anywhere near any ships for the time being but he shouldn’t be this surprised or upset she disobeyed. He did this all the time.
“You’re supposed to be resting and I told you to stay away from here,”
“Then why are you here? you should be resting too!” Ahsoka points out, pouting more than anything as she crosses her arms over her chest. The action slightly strained. She chooses to believe it’s from working so hard and not because she still had more recovering to do.
“This isn’t about me Ahsoka, I’m not the one who almost died,”
Ahsoka shrinks at this, swallowing, able to feel his upset in his words alone. Her reaction makes him sigh, his footsteps loud as they approach. It is incomparable to the reassuring hand he places on the back of her neck.
“You need to rest Snips, you can help me with repairs when you’re actually ready to,” it’s a fair compromise, she really did enjoy working at his side so he could teach her every little thing.
“Okay,” the girl finally aquises, looking up into his eyes and noting nothing more than his genuine relief, “I’m taking your cot though,”
The chosen one chuckles, “It’s all yours Snips,”
"And!" Ahsoka calls back before she could fully exit the room, Anakin turning back towards her with a lifted brow, "You gotta take me to an amusement park,"
This time the chosen one's laugh is joyous, "Okay Snips,"