Chapter Text
BEAUTIFUL, purrs Anakin’s Dark Passenger the first time the young blond sees Him on a midnight train leaving downtown Coruscant.
The walk to the subway had been near-stifling with the summer night humidity clogging up the air, usually he avoids Coruscant’s overly-packed city centre; Anakin prefers the city’s perimeter where he works and calls home, far enough from Coruscant’s crowded cityscape to breathe but not so far into the suburbs his late night comings and goings would be noticed by nosey neighbors. Nights like tonight; watching his target, Maul Sithrani, slink around backlit Coruscanti night clubs on his own hunt, blind to Anakin’s shadow darkening his every step. Anakin wouldn’t begrudge Maul’s blindness to his presence, he was skilled in stalking his prey, and serial killers always believed themselves to be apex predators— never thinking to look over their shoulder for a bigger, hungrier threat. At least, until Anakin revealed himself. Arrogance, Qui-Gon always said, was people’s downfall…that it could be mine— NEVER. The voice Anakin has known all his life - or was it for as long as I no longer ignored him? Since what I could remember? - snarls from deep within him at the notion of his failure, as though the very thought that his Dark Passenger would ever fail Anakin when he needed him made the shadows of his psyche rage— thirst for things normal people would never even fathom…AND WE FINALLY HAVE A TARGET.
Anakin had been tailing Sithrani for a little over a week now and knew the man’s cool down period was coming to a close, his frequent visits to nightclubs overflowing with women society over-looked suggesting as much; Maul was going to kill again and soon. Anakin had watched him buy a pair of leather gloves from a no-name corner shop tucked away in one of lower Coruscant’s seedier neighborhoods, the knuckles of which were studded with subtly pointed iron-spikes. Not ostentatious enough to draw unwanted attention, but sturdy enough to cleave at the delicate skin of cheeks and shatter the bones beneath— strong enough to cause Mara Wight to haemorrhage from a single blow, Anakin jaw painfully tightens at the information burned into his mind, not killing her instantly, no, instead dooming her to a slow, painful death. Her brain swelled; her skull and mouth filling with hot, iron-scented blood, leaving her to choke on her own pleads to be saved…while you watched; she died crying for mercy, blind-sided by your brutal attack while you watched and did nothing. Anakin had read Mara’s police case file and post-mortem at least once a day for the past week, and in trying to catch anything he may have missed the previous times he all but memorized her life story and it’s abrupt end— and the fate of three other young women, just like her. All bright eyed brunettes, young enough to be foolishly trusting of a kind stranger even in a metropolis like Coruscant, outcastes of society that no one would notice their absences, at least not immediately.
Life hadn’t taught them to be weary yet, and they’d paid the price for it. Maul was hunting for his fifth victim and Anakin’s professional homicide training recognized the tells; it was only a matter of time, likely within the next week, that he would charm another vulnerable young woman to follow him away from safety. However, Detective Skywalker knew something Maul didn’t: The bastard would be long dead before he ever got the chance to steal away another innocent life.
Anakin would make sure of that.
He’d still been thinking about how to trap Maul when he’d taken his seat on the near-empty train carriage. There was a smattering of drunken university students aboard, some homeless individuals, and others that had likely just left the office, visibly fighting off sleep on their journeys home. However, the man Anakin now stared at, transfixed, was none of the above. The man had auburn hair that glints almost copper under the harsh florescent lights, and wore a neatly manicured beard of the same colour. Anakin could only see the one side of his face but there was a soft, pleasant smile peaking out under the whiskers of his mustache, and Anakin’s fingers itch to reach out for the man. He longed to turn him more fully towards Anakin and get a better look— never mind that he was more than halfway down the train cart, well out of Anakin’s immediate reach.
The young detective couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, framed by thick horn-rimmed glasses from this far away; they were cast down onto a large novel split in half across one strong, jean-clad thigh. Both men follow the stranger’s index and middle fingers as they smoothly glide down the open page, slow enough that Anakin knew he was reading and not just skimming the words, but fast enough that he could deduce it was an avid hobby— or maybe it’s the box of books in between his legs that gives it away, the familiar, sweet voice of his late wife Padmé giggles softly in his mind. Which is true, in-between splayed legs was a knee-high box that was more tape than cardboard lined with…books, a lot of books. Who the hell brings a box of books onto a midnight train? Anakin can't help but wonder, feeling more puzzled when he notices the titles varied wildly from texts on Jedi mysticism and history, to children’s storybooks he recalls from his own kids’ bookshelves; Anakin recognizes one immediately, having read the tale to his twins enough times the book’s images were seared into his mind’s eye: ‘Princess and the Droid,’ Luke adores that story…Leia not so much, she thinks it’s ‘contrived,’ he chuckles softly to himself at the memory, I don’t even think she really knows what that word even means.
The train begins slowing to a halt at the next station but Anakin remains where he is, his stop isn't for another ten blocks, though its a near thing; he feels a well regret building in his chest when the man seemingly readies himself to leave. Suddenly, Anakin hates that he won’t be getting out behind the mystery man, that he won't be able to watch him for just a little longer— study him a little closer. Instead, the young detective watches as the handsome stranger closes his book with a soft snap and places it atop the open box, sliding on a satchel - Anakin hadn’t noticed it before now, but it appears just as aged and use-worn as the books he possessed - and hefts up the box as he moves to stand— rather easily, Anakin notes with a slight surprise that makes something deep in his chest purr. Anakin finds himself distracted by the man’s arms; a short-sleeved shirt that left his pale, lightly freckled arms exposed— STRONG. Fine, pale auburn-blonde hairs almost glowing under the train’s lights, highlighting the way his muscles tense under the strain of the books’ weight— ETHEREAL. Even his arms are beautiful, Anakin thinks and feels a little baffled by his own thoughts, and very baffled by his Darker self’s interest; watching as the man, rapt, as he rallies and hefts up the box once more, his hold and balance on the parcel now more secure.
The stranger begins walking towards the exist closest to him and farther away from Anakin— he’s leaving. For an inexplicable moment Anakin panics, almost hyperventilating as his thoughts swirl in a jumbled, dreadful mess of— will I ever see him again? I’ve taken this train a hundred times and have never seen him before. I need— I need to see him again. I have to see him again! I can’t— NO.
Anakin can admit to himself, in the privacy of his own mind, that he doesn’t remember getting off the train.
One moment Anakin had been sat watching the man, waiting for the doors to close behind him with a heavy feeling in his chest that this might be the first and last time he ever sees this stranger— and the next thing he registers is ducking into a darkened alleyway to avoid being seen when the man glances over his shoulder for the first time. He follows Him, easily trailing behind the nameless, beautiful stranger a few yards away, his eyes never leaving the back of his auburn head. What the fuck am I doing? Anakin wonders, almost dazed by the situation and his thoughts. He knows he should turn back, maybe he can catch the last train back to his neighbourhood if he does, and yet…he continues forward, hunting an unwitting prey who…begins humming a tune without a care in the world. Anakin recognizes it after a few notes, it's a TV commercial jingle for a cereal, the brand and flavor lost on him but he knows it, and somehow it absurdly endears him to the man further.
I should turn back, go home to Luke and Leia, kiss them goodnight and make sure Ahsoka finished her homework, he thinks, eyes trailing down the back man’s frame, he’s somehow taller and shorter than I expected; can’t be more than five-ten.
THE PERFECT SIZE FOR US.
The streets are all but vacant at this time of night so Anakin makes sure his steps were consciously light, that his distance from the man is far enough to go unnoticed, but not enough to lose him or miss little details about him. Anakin knows how to study his prey, how to follow them for hours, days even without being noticed. He’d spent all night stalking Maul, after all, and the man had been none the wiser to Anakin’s presence and he is a serial killer, not a hapless civilian. Though something tells me you’re not clueless, just…trust worthy enough not to look over your shoulder too often, he thinks with a soft smile. You should be more aware of your surroundings, what if someone was following you? Anakin ignores the irony of his own thoughts, well…at least following you with the intentions to harm you, anyway, he amends after a beat and pulls the hood of his sweater lower at his Dark Passenger’s behest anyway— just to be safe.
Anakin expects the man to be going home, maybe to a nice little white picket fence house with two floors and a green garden; maybe he even has a dog, it’d be one of those little ankle nippers, a Boston Terrier maybe, Anakin thinks with a smile, thinking of his own Dogo Argentino at home, likely curled up with the twins in bed. Nothing like Artoo, you don’t strike me as a big breed kinda guy, though Anakin wonders if he's a cat person instead, I like cats too, we even have an orange tabby, Threepio, sure he whines like he's on fire, but the kids and Ahsoka love him.
Anakin continues to follow him when the man takes a right, strolling down the street with a practiced familiarity that tells Anakin this is his domain, where he frequents enough that if Anakin were to hang around the area on a normal day he might come across the man again— the knowledge settles something almost deeply intrinsic in Anakin’s addled mind, it makes him giddy, even. Though he notices more apartment buildings and shops than suburban homes, so you’re an apartment dweller, is it a bachelor pad or do you have a doting someone waiting for you at home? Anakin’s feels himself sneer at his own question, deciding that— no, out this late you’re definitely single. I didn’t see a ring, either. Though how someone as gorgeous as you is still single? I have no idea. Everyone else is loss.
OUR GAIN.
I recognize this park, Anakin notes after a moment, sees familiar park benches and kids’ play-sets across the street to his left. He’d brought Leia and Luke here a handful of times in the past, the last time had been…around Christmas, I think. He can’t recall the park’s name, usually preferring to take the kids to Senate Park, it was closer to home and generally more convenient to get to, we should start coming here more, it’s bigger and the weather’s nice enough to make the walk. He knows it can’t be more than a twenty minute stroll from his home, and already thinks of bringing the kids back here tomorrow, it’s a Sunday and the kids love parks; the decision is made before Anakin finishes his reasoning.
Just then the man’s steps begin to slow and Anakin looks down the road to his left, noting no cars he crosses it without breaking his stride, slowing to take a seat on a park bench a little further down the street to avoid suspicion— for all intents and purposes, he's just another meandering homeless person. The stranger doesn't even bother looking around while Anakin watches Him set down his box in front of— a book store? Do you work here? Or own it? Anakin wonders, the name above the closed shop reading ‘A Memorable Time: 2nd Hand Bookshop & Café.’ Anakin can’t help the smile that spreads wide and unabashed on his face, of course this man owns a bookshop, a secondhand bookshop no less— loving and caring for unwanted things. You are special, kind to a fault too I bet, he thinks with a fondness he hasn’t felt in years. Not like this, not since Padmé’s death.
Anakin wonders if the shop is new, not recalling it the last time he’d been in this area. The books make much more sense now, Anakin thinks, the kids love books, Leia especially. I bet she’d love your little shop. He watches the man fish out keys and unlock the shop’s front door, hefting the box up and into the darkened store, the detective notes that he doesn’t turn on the lights— rote on how to navigate its insides, then. Anakin continues to stare into the void of the darkened store’s glass front door, eyeing the silhouette that moves around with ease within until he no longer sees him. Anakin expected the man to return and lock store’s front door and finally catch a full glimpse of his face, but after twenty minutes he instead notices a light above the store flicker on.
Anakin’s anger is immediate.
You forgot to lock the store door, what the fuck?! He feels almost overwhelmed with the urge to march into the store and the apartment above and shake sense into Him. This anger is not the visceral rage he feels when facing human trash like Maul or Sidious, but a fierce protectiveness. The kind that overtakes him when a person gets too comfortable making bigoted comments about Ahsoka and her girlfriend, Barriss; when pitying (or really, pompous) comments are made at playdates that make Anakin grit his teeth while parents discuss the supposed pitfalls of ‘motherless children’ where his kids can hear. Anakin has yet to punch those parents in the mouth, but each time it’s a close thing. It’s really too bad his kids like theirs, otherwise Anakin would have done it by now. Sure, if he ever did he’d be risking his reputation as a good person and parent, and maybe even is position on the police force as a well respected homicide detective so he would never actually do it— but the thought lingers, even if his Code wouldn’t allow it. They were innocent, even if they were assholes. However, if he was going to lose his job over it, Anakin wouldn’t miss the opportunity to also take a few of Asajj’s teeth with him as payback for making Luke cry during a particularly loud ‘conversation’ of hers amongst the mothers’ group few months back.
His Dark Passenger had almost murdered Asajj that night— but he didn’t because you stopped him. So Breathe, calm down and breathe.
Just like every time this…passion threatens to overwhelm him, Anakin tightens his fists and holds himself back, forcing himself to remember Qui-Gon’s teachings: Breathe, Anakin. Watch and observe, acting rashly only leads to consequences out of your grasp; be in control of yourself and nothing will slip past you. It is all within your control if you think instead of feel. It wouldn’t do anything for him to ruin his observation now by giving in to his impulses, no matter how much he tries rationalizing them. Instead, he focuses on the man himself as he paces back and forth along an open window above the shop, trying willing him to— come back down and lock the damn door! Right now!! Anakin almost gives himself a headache with it and how tightly his teeth clench, his palms sting where his nails dig into them and his jaw aches when the man abruptly stops in front of the window. For a moment Anakin almost punches the air in relief, hoping he’s remembered the unlocked door and would now go lock it. Would keep himself safe. However, before his reassurance can fully settle in Anakin’s chest a flicker of something else pushes through; concern abruptly outweighing everything else, making Anakin sit up straighter.
The young detective almost gets to his feet when he hears the muffled sound of the man yelling into a phone he now notices pressing to his ear, his gut twisting when he realizes the man is crying. Even with the distance Anakin can tell he’s angry and hurt, it makes Anakin want to know who was on the other end of the call, who had the power to make the man feel those emotions so overwhelmingly— who he had to hurt. Anakin doesn’t know if he wants to break them for distressing this beautiful creature or be them; to have the power to incite such strong emotions in Him. Though, oddly - or perhaps not - being privy to such private emotions tightens something in Anakin’s gut; he wants to see them again, but more closely. Much more closely.
How would you look, crying beneath me? For me?
PERFECT.
Anakin doesn’t disagree.
The young detective almost jumps out of his skin when he hears his phone’s buzzing, cutting through the silence of the street, feeling it vibrate against his hip where it’s tucked away in his front pocket. Anakin reaches for the device and spares a quick glance at who the hell would be calling him so late— shit.
“Hey, Snips,” Anakin answers as casually as he can, eyes flickering back up towards the window above the shop and feels deflated when the man is gone.
“Ani where the hell are you? It’s almost 2am,” his little sister demands, then adds a bit more sweetly, “…and is it by any chance near a Circle K? I’d kill for some Takis right now.”
Relief washes over Anakin when he sees the man back at the store’s front door, still on the phone but more calm now. There’s a genuine regret Anakin feel warp his insides when he still can’t fully see his face, dipped too low as he talks into his phone to make out any details through the shadows and bad angle. Anakin almost hates whoever is on the line now, knowing that they get to hear his voice while Anakin sits outside in the silence— that they have his attention, and he doesn't. The man almost makes up for it by locking the front door, at least— thank you, Angel, Anakin thinks as though the man can hear him, watching the back of his now familiar auburn head retreat into the darkness of the shop once again.
“I’m a few blocks away, needed a walk to clear my head after today,” he says, pushing off the park bench and stretching to his full height. “I could swing by a Circle K on the way for my sweet, oh so kind little sister.”
“Well your ‘sweet, oh so kind’ little sister had to wrestle your kids to bed, you owe me that much.” Anakin can hear the smile in her voice, knowing she adores and dotes on her niece and nephew almost more than he does, but plays along with her petulance anyway.
“How about I also get you an Almond Joy too, I know you like that gross coconut shit.”
“It’s not ‘shit’!” Her reaction is instant, and Anakin stifles a laugh, “you just have the taste buds of a toddler!”
Ahsoka begins a defensive rant about why her tastes in sweets are far superior to his and Anakin listens with half an ear, humoring his little sister with prodding comebacks that set her off all over again. As an older brother it was his job to tease her, even Qui-Gon said so when he’d introduced Anakin to her for the first time; he still remembers how tiny she was back then, how quiet she’d been day Qui-Gon officially adopted his goddaughter after her parents’ deaths as a toddler. He couldn’t imagine his hard-headed, sharp-tongued little sister ever being so timid now— he hated the thought of her ever being to silent again.
Well he said it was my job to ‘protect’ her, Anakin reasons, grinning when Ahsoka's language gets rather colorful as he starts walking, and to a 13 year old boy teasing her basically the same thing.
Anakin slowly strolls down the street, thinking of ways to convince Ahsoka and the twins to come to the park early enough tomorrow that he’d have time to scope out bookstore at his own pace; he comes up with about half a dozen solid reasons before he’s even halfway down the block. Anakin looks over his shoulder, gaze drifting back up to the apartment window above the bookstore hoping to catch one last glimpse of Him before leaving. Ingrain just a little more of Him into his memory before it’s out of sight and Anakin begins to earnestly make his way back home for the night; he doesn’t see the auburn haired man, but something else catches his eye and makes the detective smiles anyway— he loves being right. Anakin grins up at the smaller, fluffier silhouette now perched on the windowsill; he’s too far away to pick up details but thinks, I knew you were a cat person.
I wonder what else I was right about, he thinks, finally turning the corner towards his own home, guess we’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we, Angel?
OUR ANGEL.