Anakin struggles to remember the last time the bridge was ever so silent. He thinks that it might've been one of the nights before they returned to Coruscant, back in the days of following as obediently as he could in Obi-Wan's careful shadow, watching his master look out into the void of space and reflect on all that had happened.

He remembers sitting on the floor at some point, watching Obi-Wan as he stared out through the transparisteel viewport of their ship. He had been so tired, nodding off every once in a while, but his eyes still so careful on his master's shoulders. Obi-Wan was meditating, a kind of meditating he practiced when too bothered and stiff to remain folded on the floor. It was always so well rehearsed- when Anakin would fall asleep he'd wake up in his own bed, memory hazy, blankets pulled up far too much for his liking.

He almost feels like he could fall asleep on his feet, but he knows he shouldn't because Obi-Wan is on a diplomatic mission on Alderaan that's more of a formality than anything else. If he falls asleep he'll wake up at the next guard shift, possibly, if anyone decides to wake him, and if not, he'll wake when the admiral taps him in the side with the toe of his boot, looking down at him with a concerned glance disguising his laughter.

It has happened exactly once and Anakin isn't all that willing to repeat it.

Right now, he wants to meditate. He wants to clear his mind of all that's happened and all that will happen. He wants to restart himself like the machines he tinkers with, clearing away all of the excess and only looking at what he needs. Part of him knows that that is not what meditation is for, but it's what he can sometimes accomplish.

The humming of the ship under his feet is trying to lull him into sitting down like he used to when he was younger, and the buzz of the Force around him is telling him to calm down, to iron out his nerves and relax.

Time hasn't caught up with him yet and it's almost a wonderful thing, to be so alone on the bridge. Anakin's mind is telling him that it's time to sleep when he knows in a handful of hours, the first clone shift will rotate in and take their positions.

Usually, he would come in with them, run over ship diagnostics, check in with the Council, with Obi-Wan, maybe with Padme if he had the privacy to do so. Ahsoka would wake up with the second rotation and they would go about their business preparing for assignments, training, or whatever else they could find.

The ship is asleep except for a small number of clones in the mess hall.

He knows that he should be asleep as well, instead of waxing poetic in front of the cold void in front of him, hands behind him at parade rest. He has three hours to himself and instead of sleeping, instead of fixing the steering on his starfighter, here he is, looking out a viewport like Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The last time Anakin had seen Obi-Wan, he had been covered in dirt, sand, and blood, a smile on his worn out features, his rough hands clasping on Anakin's shoulder.

"I saved a few of them for you." His voice had been rough, hoarse from shouting orders and still far too loud, trying to push his voice over the sound of the LAAT/is behind them, still dropping off fresh troops and supplies. "Wouldn't want you to be bored."

Anakin had smiled at the time, "Me? Bored?"

"More like waiting for a chance to show off." Ahsoka had chirped from beside him, her lightsabers already in her hands. She had given him a smirk before giving Obi-Wan a look of soft concern. They both knew better than to push the issue, to ask him if he was alright, because in truth, none of them ever were.

Standing there at parade rest, Anakin likes to think that Obi-Wan is proud of him, even now as he tortures himself by staying awake and further ruining his internal clock. He knows that Obi-Wan understands the need to just exist in silence, to put everything into perspective because compared to the expanse in front of him, Anakin is nothing but a tiny spec amongst systems and universes.

He likes to think that maybe one day that'll change, that maybe he'll change everything so drastically that the universe will be forced to remember him, that the legacy he leaves behind will be sizable in this starry void. It's something he shouldn't want, to be remembered, to have a legacy, but it's a dream he lets himself have.

Anakin fights a yawn and loses and he makes the mistake of running a hand through his hair knowing it's just going to stick out more. He steps away from the viewport for a moment, looking out at the empty bridge that had been bustling with clones so many hours before, conversation streaming endlessly between them.

He almost misses the buzz.

Almost.

He starts down the steps of the bridge, giving into the exhaustion that's slowly beginning to seep into his limbs, now. Anakin smiles to himself a little, there's a lump in one of the officer's chairs, a familiar lump.

"Ahsoka." His voice is soft, almost as soft as his light touch to her lekku.

It's silly how strange he feels, finding himself faced with another part of his memories. Anakin bends down a little, slowly so his knees don't stretch with pain and he finds himself pulling the blanket up a little higher over her shoulders. He wants to wake her up, to shake her a little until her eyelashes flutter and she looks at him with those bright cerulean eyes, always so curious and ready.

He wonders just how long she's been there, if it's long enough that she's already destroyed her posture. Anakin sighs softly and silently, he knows he's going to pick her up and carry her back to their quarters, but he's afraid that if he touches her she'll startle like bantha cub. Anakin isn't sure if he can handle Ahsoka whining at him right now, squirming and trying to fight against his attempt to be the kind, loving master.

Anakin straightens himself carefully and closes his eyes, but only for a second, because he doesn't want to fall asleep standing up. He carefully moves in and picks Ahsoka up, an arm under her knees, an arm against her shoulders. Her head lolls into his side and she snorts a little with a snore.

It takes every ounce of willpower not to laugh, but he sure as kriff smiles.

Nothing manages to surprise him more than every single time he's reminded of how small Ahsoka is. She's lanky and awkward in his arms, her legs so long and her body so strong from all of the battles they've already fought. He can go days, weeks, without really thinking about how young Ahsoka is until she does something so irrevocably stupid that Anakin is snapped back into the present, fighting the senate's war with a sixteen year old girl at his side.

Yet, somehow, in the expanse of nothing that surrounds them, Ahsoka doesn't seem so minuscule. Anakin feels that she's already going to amount to something far greater than anyone expects. He knows it. He knows it better than himself and he tries his hardest to encourage her.

She moves a little in his arms as he uses the Force to open the door to their quarters. He stays there, standing in the hallway for a few seconds as he waits for her to drift back into darker sleep. When Ahsoka stills, he moves into the room and carefully sets her down on her cot, removing her boots from her feet and fixing the blanket she had draped over herself.

Anakin sits on his own cot afterward, watching her soft, slow breathing. After a few moments, he takes off his own boots and curls up on his own cot, lying on his side to look at her side of the room, but in the darkness he can only really see the dark edge of her outline.

In the cold expanse of it all, Anakin wonders if in the grand scheme of the fates, if she'll ever feel the way he does right now.