There was barely enough room in the Interceptor for one person- definitely not two.

Especially not two Jedi, especially not when one of them was you- a Padawan, sure you were older than most. Closer to Anakin in age than his own former Master. You’d started training late, late enough that some in the Temple whispered behind your back and others stared when you walked into a room with a blade on your hip like you were born with it.

But you weren’t the only outlier. Anakin had always been the exception. The exception. And now, here you were, shoulder practically jammed between the console and his thigh, your knees brushing his every time the ship jolted. He hadn’t wanted to bring you, but you knew exactly how to look at him when you asked. You also knew how to insist without ever raising your voice.

You were quiet now, watching hyperspace blur past through the viewport. He finally glanced down at you, just once.

“You know you’re not supposed to be here”