A/N: sorry i got tired so i used a bunch of time skips but yk i gotta publish what i gotta publish

Warnings: death sentence, violence, i got hella lazy, feels, swearing,

Word count: 1555

Something's not right.

Well of course something's not right, you're being framed, but the Dark side seems terribly close in this warehouse, thick in the air around you, like a heavy, ominous mist. Your fingers itch to ignite your lightsaber, to hear the comforting hum of its blade in the empty darkness, but for now you keep the hilt in your fingers; using it will kill your night vision, and if there's anything you need right now in the sinister shadows of a warehouse packed with crates full of nano-droids, it's your ability to see. Something shuffles to your left - your head jerks in the direction of the sound, eyes frantically scanning the darkness -

A cloaked figure crashes into your right side, knocking the air out of your lungs. Rolling to absorb the momentum, you gasp, leaping to your feet, igniting your lightsaber as you whirl to face your opponent.

'Ventress?' You gasp, recognising the twin blades. 'What happened to our - '

She runs at you again, and you just block her attack, gritting your teeth and straining as she slams her lightsabers down on your own, the heat from them too close to your face. Rage at Ventress' betrayal filters through your system - you should have never trusted her in the first place, you should have never let her play with your head and push you until you were borne away by your own inferno of emotions. And still, something's not quite right; it doesn't make sense why she'd go back on her deal like this, because she'd already upheld her part, and the only thing left for you to do would benefit her. Unless she doubted your request to pardon her would be turned down? Did she really have no faith in you?

There's something else. You've fought Ventress many times, and she always, always gloats, always tries to worm her way into your mind and twist your feelings until they work against you. Your attacker - masked and anonymous - hasn't spoken a word, instead just dancing fluidly over the crates and through the shadows, coming at you from all directions; you begin to realise their movements aren't ones Ventress would use, in fact, you recognise some of the manoeuvres as Jedi ones.

You frown, pressing forward, raining down blows. 'Who are you?'

Your attacker's head jerks, and she pulls her hood lower over the helmet she wears, confirming that it isn't Ventress. Maybe it's a little stupid that you're taking Ventress' track record of snarking and boasting too literally, but there's also that niggling in the back of your mind, tracking the movements of your enemy and trying to match them to someone, anyone. Bultar? No, you remember her telling you how she hated using double sabers. Luminara? No, not quite, not controlled enough, not precise enough.

You're stuck too deep in your mind, flicking through faces, to feel the way the Force reels and hums around you, restless. You're still too shaken that someone would do this to you to catch yourself. You're mind is racing too fast, heart bleeding too much, ears ringing too loudly with the anguish in Anakin's voice.

You slip up.

You let your guard down.

Swiftly, your attacker backs you towards a stack of crates, and you teeter there for a second, resignation seeping into your heart before you fall backwards, rolling to absorb your momentum and leaping to your feet, ready for another onslaught of blows but -

Clones from the 104th and the 501st surround you, and as you cast your eyes up, you see your enemy disappear into the shadows. You don't try to pursue her, you know you'll be shot down in seconds. Sighing, your shoulders slump, and you gaze at the soldiers around you, wishing their helmets were off so you could see the thoughts in their brown eyes; the clones are varied, all unique, but one thing always stays the same - their eyes are windows to their souls, displaying their emotions like a flowing, everchanging watercolour.

The men to your left begin to part, and before you see his face, you recognise his gait; it's Anakin.

Your heart aches in your chest, and you avoid his grave, blue eyes as he walks forward, a pair of cuffs in his hands; instead, you hand him your lightsaber and allow him to bind your hands behind your back, your breath coming out in a ragged sigh. Only then do you realise how exhausted you are - you ran halfway across Coruscant, fought a rather generous handful of clones and not one but two Force wielders.

The urge to slump against Anakin washes over you, but you don't let yourself, not in front of all these clones, not when you're a criminal now. A glance upward reveals gentle eyes, and you feel your own begin to sting - looking away from him, not willing for him to see you cry, you fight to swallow down the rocks in your throat, your hands trembling as he leads you to the ship, his voice soft in your ear.

'I'm sorry, love,' he says. 'Tarkin and the Galactic Senate requested that you be expelled from the Order so you can be put to a republic military tribunal. I - I fought, but the Council agreed.'
You keep the tremble out of your voice. 'So, I'm a civilian under the jurisdiction of the Senate, now.'
'Yes,' he sighs. 'Padme will represent you in the trial.'
Slowly, you exhale. 'Well, at least I've got her.'
'And me,' he reminds you as you arrive at the Senate Building. 'You've always got me. I'll figure something out.'

You hear the conviction in his voice, his belief in his own words, but you find yourself wondering if even Anakin can save you this time.

━━━━°.•☆•.°━━━━

If anything, Tarkin is ruthless. He demands you face a death penalty, and all the while, he keeps his face schooled into a frigid, indifferent mask, as if he's not asking for your life to be taken from you - in front of you. Relentless, he throws accusation after accusation, and you've got to admit he's good: you feel absolutely and truly condemned, and if it were not for Padme, you'd have given up long ago, but you can see the way she sways the Chancellor, imploring him to see both sides, to take into account the circumstances of Letta's death.

Deep down, though, even with Padme's defence, you know you're doomed. The Dark side sucks onto Tarkin's words, riding them as the plague clings onto the fur of womp rats, infecting the air, infecting the jury, pulling at your robes like a cutting wind and pulling you down. You knew you were fucked as soon as you were expelled from the Order.

As the Chancellor begins to report your sentence, you bow your head, digging your nails into your palms, your teeth clenched. You can sense the worry emnating off Padme, and you make a mental note to thank her for her efforts if you get the chance; it's clear that she did all she could, even with such a daunting case against you, and for that you're glad.

You wonder if you'll get to see Anakin again before you die.

And then, as if he was summoned, he bursts into the room, dragging someone behind him - you can't catch sight of their face, though, because they hang their head. His eyes glimmer with triumph and determination, and hope seizes your heart and sends it soaring, the sight of him, of his broad shoulders and the confident tilt to his lips wrenching you from your deluge the way the twin suns of Tatooine vanquish the shadows of night.

'Apologies, Chancellor,' he says, his voice ringing out loud and clear. 'But someone has come to confess.'
'Holy shit,' you spit as you finally recognise who he's holding. 'Barris.'

The pieces fall together then. She was the one who led you to go to the warehouse, and then presumably disguised herself as Ventress and attacked you, delaying you so you'd be found there, among crates upon crates of nano-droids for the clones to found. It's ingenious, and even more cruel.

You don't dwell on it long, though. Not with Anakin's eyes on you, a triumphant smile playing across his lips as he glances across at you, unsaid words in his gaze - words that say I told you so, love.

━━━━°.•☆•.°━━━━

As soon as you and Anakin are alone, you kiss him. He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you around, and you grip tightly onto him as he sets you down, fitting your mouth to his again once he's still. The last time you kissed, when you bid him to wish you luck, seems as if it was years ago. Everything fades away at the touch of his lips, and you melt into his embrace, finally home.

He holds you to him for a long time. You rest your forehead against his chest, your eyes closed as you bask in each other's presence, and in his arms, you find that nothing matters. Not with him this close, not with him clutching you to his body, his words soft and warm in your ear.

'Told you, love.'

hopefully ill be back soon and i can finally start on the ton of requests i've gotten :DDD