Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This used to be a 40-ish word prologue that I wrote as motivation to start the fic, but has since been rendered obsolete. I promise this is the only time I ever have deleted or ever will delete a published chapter of this fic. I have not deleted the chapter itself though, as I don't want to confuse or otherwise inconvenience my readers who have mental or written notes that they were on a specific chapter number.

Hopefully you don't mind clicking on to chapter two; enjoy!

--the_words_arent_enough

Chapter Text

32 BBY

"The Force doesn't whisper. It sings," the youngling corrected.

"I see," Master Plo Koon said, watching her stand on tiptoes, trying to see better out of the cockpit window.

"How many stars?"

"No one knows for sure. A great many. What do you know about the Force, little Soka?" he asked, hoping she might elaborate on her previous statement.

"But why don't we count them?" she asked earnestly, her bottom lip sticking out a little.

"The stars? There are so many that it would take years and years to count them all, and some of them are small and hard to see."

Her large blue eyes filled with tears. "But count them!"

Plo Koon rather liked spending time around the younglings at the Temple, and he knew they often got upset about random things. Inability to count the stars, however, was a first. "When we get to Coruscant, we can count a few of them, alright?"

"I want to go home."

"The Jedi Temple is your new home."

"No! Home!" She gave him a reproachful look.

The whole thing with bringing children to the Temple when they were only two or three years old was that it didn't entirely solve the attachments problem. Any child, no matter how young, had people they would miss and would cry about until they just forgot. Even he, as a Jedi Master, couldn't look at the crying Togruta without part of him wanting to fly her back to Shili.

10 Years Later

"You're saying my name wrong. It's Ahsokah."

"That's what I said," Master Krell snapped.

"No, you said 'Ahsoka.' I'm Ahsokah."

"They're exactly the same."

"No they aren't! They aren't the same. Everyone gets my name wrong, because apparently only other Togrutas can hear the difference, because our montrals-"

"Are you suggesting I'm inferior to you in some way? Need I remind you that I am a Jedi Master, and you are my padawan. If you think your people are so superior, perhaps you'd like to go back to them. Perhaps you don't even belong here."

"That wasn't what I meant," she said quietly. She didn't think he heard her.

Most of the clones quickly came to dislike her master, and by extension, her. That was a pity, because she would have preferred their company, despite the fact that there was something wrong in the Force surrounding them. She didn't think there was something wrong with them, the way her master seemed to, but there was something centered around them. She taught herself to ignore it the way she'd also learned to ignore how out of place she felt everywhere, and how angry Master Krell made her.

The point of a Jedi's training was to make them better at listening to the Force, but oddly enough all Ahsoka had learned was to hide and ignore and pretend.

(Even when she looked at the clones, and the Force's constant song turned into a wail.)

What do you need, dear child? Tell us.

'Nothing,' she almost always answered. Because as much as she was miserable right now, the idea of doing anything about it was scarier.

She and her master did not have a Force-bond. Which made sense, and frankly, it didn't seem all that regrettable. At least he could only punish her for impudent words; if they had a bond, he might punish her for every retort she had in her head but didn't say aloud. Really, she did try not to say disrespectful things, but he never refrained from saying them to her, so she didn't think it was particularly terrible of her to do the same sometimes.

That probably meant she wasn't a very good Jedi, she thought sadly.

Part of her really just... wanted to belong somewhere.

"We lost so many men last mission-" Ahsoka began, "and I-"

"It doesn't matter. We won. That is the point in war."

"I thought this time, we could try something else, so maybe we wouldn't have to put so many lives at risk," she continued.

"They are soldiers, Tano." (Force, she hated it even more when he called her by her last name than when he messed up her first name.) "They are meant to be put at risk. That is their purpose."

"They're people."

"They're clones. And you, need to learn your place."

She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. "One day, he'll wish he hadn't said that," she thought, very sure that it was true, before seeing his face and realizing she'd spoken aloud.

"What the kriff is wrong with you?"

She closed her eyes, refusing to cry as his hand collided with the side of her face.

Something inside her broke. shattering into a million pieces, funnily enough exactly the way the window just had. She watched with equal parts hurt and satisfaction as Krell flew backward into the wall. To her dismay, he smiled at her, not that the smile was particularly real or reached his eyes.

Somehow, she didn't think that meant anything good.

Chapter Text

She kept waiting for her eyes to turn yellow.

Only, she couldn't figure out how to tell anyone about her master using the dark side, and teaching her to use it without getting in trouble for using it herself. Or without him denying it. Who would believe her?

Lately, too, there was an overwhelming feeling that she was running out of time. She didn't think it was solely about her either, and that was what bothered her (if she'd thought the feeling had to do with her dying she...probably wouldn't have worried so much).

Nothing quite made sense in her mind: the clones, the war, the Jedi, her-- there was something important, a Way in which they fit together, but she didn't know exactly how that was supposed to happen.

The darkness only confused her more.

Maybe at least, there were parts of that she could tell someone?

"Ahsoka! How are you?" Plo Koon said. It had been too long since he'd seen her. She looked frightened, there wasn't any happiness in her bright blue eyes. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

She nodded, fidgeting with her hands. "I-- I--" her face crumpled. "I can never have the right words," she sighed in frustration. ""There are so many there but then they all get stuck or come out wrong," she explained. "See? That's not even what I wanted to tell you!"

She looked so sad and he found himself wondering how Master Krell could have not noticed.

"There's something wrong about the Jedi fighting a war. Not because it's not right to fight, just maybe I think it's the wrong war." She smiled brightly, not because she was happy about what she was saying, he could tell, but because she was pleased she had said it.

"How so?"

"I'm not sure. That's all the Force told me."

"Ahsoka, do you mind if I share what you said with the Council?"

"I don't mind. Do you think the Force is ever angry with us?" she asked abruptly.

"Anger is the opposite of what the light is."

She sighed.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me, Little 'Soka?" he asked cautiously.

She shook her head. "No. Nothing else."

Chapter Text

Several things about the mission bothered Anakin. For starters, preferred to do things alone, or at least just with Obi-Wan. He also had never particularly liked Master Krell, the few times he'd come across him.

His padawan wasn't much better

When he'd gone to board the ship she'd stared at him with wide blue eyes, her lips moving but making no sound except a tiny squeak.

"I'm Ahsoka," she managed at last. "Ahsoka Tano."

"Anakin Skywalker," he said cautiously.

"I know. People talk about you."

Krell gave her a look. She bit her lip. "They do though."

Obi-Wan laughed. "I'm sure. We should get going, we do have somewhere to be."

She liked Anakin and Obi-Wan, which was odd because the first time she saw him, she also saw:

Ash and smoke trailing behind him, like the tail of a firebird, red and grey and colorless darkness circling each other endlessly. 

Somehow he simultaneously managed to feel dangerous and also, unlike most other things, safe.

Tell him, the Force didn't even suggest, it demanded. 

Obi-Wan? Or Anakin? And what am I supposed to tell him? she wondered. Really though, she knew, she was just pretending not to because...it was easier.

She couldn't exactly talk to Master Kenobi alone though.

She looked around at the three other people in the room: Kenobi, Krell, and Skywalker.

One person she trusted, one she mostly did, and one she didn't at all.

Well technically, there was also her, but she wasn't at all sure how she felt about herself right now.

She gave her master a look. Stop me. I dare you. "Master Kenobi, can I speak with you?"

For once, the words came out exactly as she meant them to. And in this case, once might just have been enough.

Except-

The look her master gave her made it feel like nothing was.

Chapter Text

Was this what a year of war had done to the Jedi?

Obi-Wan didn't know what to tell her for a moment, because they were Jedi, this didn't-

The worst part was when he told her she was safe now, he felt so foolish. He was telling a person who regularly went into battle that she was safe.

"It's okay, I know what you meant," she said.

He really hoped she was just guessing what he was thinking. Still, there was a lot to be said for her answering his unspoken thought when Krell (Obi-Wan refused to think of him as a master anymore, anyway he surely wouldn't be once they spoke to the Council) had described her diplomatic skills as 'not promising'.

"I'm so sorry this happened. And thank you for telling me."

She nodded. "But I used the dark side- I-"

"Ahsoka, you're just as much of a Jedi as anyone. This was not your fault."

She nodded again, but he didn't think she believed him.

Anakin was considering throwing something. He could tell Obi-Wan was angry too, but Obi-Wan was too civilized to throw anything ever.

Anakin didn't find the idea of being civilized to be all that honorable at present.

"You can't punish her for what Krell did!"

(Ahsoka hadn't been the only one who had noticed the look the Besalisk had given her and it had reminded Anakin far too much of the way people had looked at him, before he'd been a Jedi.)

"No one is saying we should. As you know, this Council has decided that Master Krell will be expelled from the Jedi Order," Master Ki-Adi-Mundi said, "but we cannot simply assume that Tano is still capable of becoming a Jedi."

"So you're suggesting we simply assume she isn't?" Obi-Wan's retort brought him some satisfaction, at least.

"If she is to remain a padawan," Master Windu said, "she needs a master."

"Consider this, we must. Dismissed, you are, Skywalker."

He walked out of the Council Chamber to find Tano staring out of a window in the hall. Her eyes brightened upon seeing him. "Hi," she said.

"How are you?" When she wasn't there, he could feel angry on her behalf, but when she was, he didn't really know what to say to her.

"I was debating," she said, "whether I should listen at the door."

"Nah, too risky, you'll get caught for sure."

"That's what I decided." She looked out the window again. "I like it up here, every time I look down it makes me scared, but in a good way."

"Do you like flying?"

"I guess," she said. "I'm not especially good at it. You like flying, I can tell by the way you asked."

"Yeah."

"And your piloting has saved everyone's necks a bunch of times," the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.

"Yup."

"And no one ever says thank you for some reason," now she was struggling to disguise a smirk.

"Exact- Wait how do you-"

"I told you, people talk about you. And I'm good at remembering things if I hear them."

The doors to the Council Chamber opened again and the masters walked out mostly in silence. "Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked questioningly.

"Anakin," he said, "I'm glad to see you're getting along with your new padawan."

Chapter Text

"My what?" Anakin asked.

Ahsoka tried out the thought in her mind: Anakin Skywalker's Padawan. She didn't get the feeling she wanted to run and hide somewhere the way she had when she'd been made Krell's padawan, so that was probably good?

"But-" Anakin began.

Obi-Wan gave him a look. Well meant, but it didn't really matter whether Anakin said anything or not, she could tell he didn't like this at all. Unlike Obi-Wan, his face said a lot.

Why go to the trouble of having mental shields like a fortress while broadcasting visible emotions to Force-sensitives and non-Force-sensitives alike? she wondered. Unless the whole thing was some clever way of hiding what he was really feeling. It had, at least, been easy to tell when Krell was angry. Not that it was all that helpful, but it was still nice to know so she could be careful not to make him angrier.

What if Anakin was angry at her and she couldn't even tell until he said something? What if he actually hated her for existing right now? She'd assumed that he was just upset because he didn't want a padawan, but what if it was her?

What else would he be hiding? What else would a Jedi Knight have to hide but anger and hate and-

"Ahsoka, are you alright?" Anakin asked looking somewhere between concerned and terrified of his own concern.

"Can I go to the library?" she asked. She liked the library, less because of the holobooks and more because of all the echoes of the intent focus and peace that all of the studying Jedi left behind. If she was ever closing her eyes and wishing she were somewhere else, that somewhere else was the library.

It took him a moment to realize he was asking her. "You don't have to ask to go to the library."

That was new. Krell had been angry when she did anything without asking.

If he hated her a lot, he probably would have said no. At least, she thought so.

"I'm not a teacher," Anakin cried. "She should be your padawan, you've wanted another padawan ever since I was knighted!"

"Master Yoda thought otherwise," Obi-Wan said.

"He was wrong."

"I agreed with him, actually. You seemed to get along-"

"That doesn't mean I can teach her!"

"Why not?"

"Because I can't help her with what- I'm not good at making people feel better when they're upset, or-"

"Ahsoka needs to feel like she can be her own person without trying to please a master, or the Council."

"You're hoping she'll learn to disobey the Council if she's my padawan?" he asked in disbelief. Obi-Wan was absolutely crazy. Everyone was crazy!

"Not exactly."

"So yes."

"We're hoping she might learn to be less afraid of questioning things."

He was still crazy. Clearly he was not going to be talked out of this, though.

"Who's she?" Rex asked.

"I'm his padawan. My name's Ahsoka Tano." Mostly, she'd convinced herself that she would know if he was angry with her. It had just taken a second to get used to: Anakin was guarded about his feelings, but not disingenuous.

It was probably unfair of her to not like other people hiding feelings when she tried not to talk about her own, but it unnerved her when she couldn't tell what was going on in someone's head at least a little, because then they seemed chaotic and unpredictable and more than a little frightening.

So, anyway, Master Skywalker was predictable in his own way. It just took a minute to figure out.

Rex was even less confusing.

He might have been one of her favorite people so far.

Were Jedi allowed to have favorite people? She hoped so. Anyway, she didn't think she could help it- she appreciated the way he laughed when Anakin claimed he was 'usually right'.

Chapter Text

Graded work from student record for the year of 24 BBY

Student: Ahsoka Tano

Class: Aurebesh

Assignment description: Write a poem about a value important to the Jedi Order.

Student work: 

Selflessness

The way

A raindrop falls to the ground.

A tree lives

because of the raindrop.

Instructor's notes: Students were instructed to write a poem at least eight lines long.

Grade: 4/8

21 BBY

Ahsoka stared at the entrance to the cave.

"Are you going to go in or not?" Anakin asked. The sooner she went, the sooner she could come back. As happy as he was for her to have a second lightsaber, he wasn't particularly looking forward to waiting for hours on Ilum while she found a kyber crystal. There was a war to fight.

"I am."

"Then for Force's sake, go."

"Okay," she said without moving.

"Ahsoka, it's freezing."

"Okay, I'm going. Isn't a Jedi supposed to be patient?"

The caves were quiet. Ahsoka remembered that from her trip there as a youngling, when she'd built her first saber. It was unnerving: Ahsoka could always hear something. Except here. Here, there was just silence. Profoundly loud silence.

Just like last time, she stared at her kyber crystal for a moment, in wonder at the feeling of utter certainty that it was hers. That kind of certainty wasn't something she felt often.

Green, green-yellow. Green made her think of trees, of aliveness. Yellow reminded her of...

...the eyes of a master who has betrayed her, filled with hatred and rage .

Yellow reminded her of Shili's sun in the early morning.

"Ahsokah."

She remembered that voice, her papa's voice.

"I wanted you to be happy," he said.

"I wasn't."

"Are you now?"

"Sometimes. You could have kept me on Shili," she said softly.

"You weren't happy there."

"I remember being happy."

"Memory is a funny thing." His voice was sad.

She opened her eyes. She wanted to see him. Only he wasn't there.

"Ahsoka." The speaker was a creature in black armor. It wanted to kill her, but it was waiting. What was it waiting for?

The air was full of ash. 

"Do we know each other?"

The ash gathered itself, into a hooded figure. She tried to look at it, but her eyes wanted so desperately to look away.

"You know nothing. Yet."

The hood lifted.

She screamed, and the world plunged into black nothingness.

'Why doesn't anyone want to see an Akul, Ahsoka?' the Force asked.

Because an Akul made sure it was the last thing you saw.

The memory of the hooded face was dangerous. It was also necessary.

Compromise: it was both remembered and forgotten--

--there was something new in the center of that nondescript feeling surrounding the war, and the clones. It was important, it might even make the whole thing make sense...

She couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was or how it had gotten in her head in the first place.

Chapter Text

The shy, quiet Ahsoka he'd first met was more and more a thing of the past. She was still like that in a few situations- the senate, for one-, but (and he couldn't pinpoint exactly when this had happened) while on missions she was anything but. And she seemed to have picked up some of his master's sarcasm, too.

She was learning Jar'Kai pretty quickly, too, and that seemed to make her more sure of herself.

He was genuinely proud of her, but he couldn't help being protective of her still, and she was increasingly prickly about it.

Were all padawans like that?

"Ventress," Ahsoka growled. She couldn't find it in her to regard the Dathomirian the same way she did Dooku. It was well hidden, but her darkness was rooted in fear and grief that had been turned into anger, because anger was easier. And Ahsoka had once been there, to a lesser extent. Sure, she'd never gotten to the point where anger felt good, but that was purely circumstantial.

Still, even if Ahsoka pitied her, it wasn't like pacifism was an option when they were on opposite sides of a war. Ahsoka couldn't go as far as feeling outright sympathy for someone who had killed so many innocent people and was very willing to kill more.

She ignited her lightsabers.

Another saber ignited. Anakin had arrived, and he glanced at her, his expression dismissive. He didn't want her help. She frowned.

It was upsetting, in more ways than one. Didn't he trust her? And she liked the feeling of protecting just as much when it meant a battle. She should be allowed to fight alongside him!

She told him so, too, afterward.

"I'm trying to keep you safe."

"I'm can keep myself safe! Because you taught me," she added diplomatically, hoping the flattery might help.

"And you do, but there was no need for you to deal with Ventress."

"Because you were there!? Do you realize how self-centered that is?"

"A Jedi shouldn't want to fight," he said.

"Yes, and you follow the Jedi Code so well, when it gives you what you want!"

She walked to her room on the ship, laying down with a sigh of frustration. She wasn't made of glass! Why couldn't he see that?

She closed her eyes, trying to let go of the feeling. Tears pooled in her eyes. Drawn to her emotions, the dark side tapped at her mental shields. It did that often, as though convinced she might use it now because she had before.

No, the thought at it.

She calmed down enough for it to go away, but it left an awful headache, her montrals feeling as though they were being stabbed with spears of ice.

She dreamt she was a bird flying through the stars, looking for something. Except she didn't have wings, and when she realized this she fell, tumbling through empty space.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, she gasped, and then listened to her breathing slowly even, and the hum of the ship's engines until she fell back asleep.

A week passed, and Anakin made no mention of their argument.

Inwardly, she seethed, partly annoyed at herself. She thought it might have been the last thing she'd said, because she thought she felt a prickle of fear from him. Fear that she knew about Padme? Obi-Wan knew too, it wasn't that hard to figure out.

"I'm sorry about what happened on our last mission," he said finally. "I just worry about you."

"I know," she said.

She didn't add anything else. She felt prickly lately; the dream where she was a bird kept coming back to her. She'd been looking for a burning bright star within herself, and she was honestly scared of finding it.

Ahsoka was quiet since their argument. That worried him.

Anakin felt he hadn't apologized enough, but he wasn't sure exactly how to.

Obi-Wan hadn't ever actually taught him that.

Chapter Text

The Chancellor was one of those people who made her words get stuck.

The Force curled itself tightly away inside her, and Ahsoka felt hardly like herself. There were other people that happened with too: some of the Council members, people she would run into on missions.

"And you must be Ahsoka Tano."

Ahsoka. Yes, me. I'm Ahsoka. "Yes." she managed.

"I'm delighted to meet you."

She looked at Anakin. "Can I go now?"

Thinking about that conversation later, and how stupid she must have looked, made her want to throw something.

"It wasn't that-- I wasn't trying to be rude. I couldn't--"

"It's okay Ahsoka."

"I'm sorry. You're friends with the Chancellor."

"Hey, so long as you and Padme get along, I'm happy."

Ahsoka smiled. She'd liked Senator Amidala, a lot. She didn't know exactly what it was like to have a mother, but talking to her gave Ahsoka a warm feeling that maybe felt like that.

She could see why Anakin liked her.

"I must have seemed disrespectful though."

"I explained."

"Oh." Somehow she felt worse, irritated even.

"Look, about the whole thing with Ventress, I'm sorry."

"I know."

"But you're upset," he pressed.

"Anakin? Does the Force ever make you afraid?"

"Sometimes, it makes me feel small. Lonely."

She sat with that statement for a minute. It might have been one of the most honest things he'd ever said to her.

"When I meditate--"

"--the Force feels like there's a star inside you," he finished.

"Yes. I'm scared of it."

"I wish I could give you some advice, but I still feel that way."

She could kind of tell. Maybe that was why she trusted him so much.

"Oh. I don't think it likes being hidden so much. I get this feeling that it won't let me do that forever."

He frowned and it took him a moment to answer. "Not forever. That doesn't have to mean soon."

"Right," she said, biting her lip.

Mostly, she was just glad to be talking to Anakin properly again.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka dreamed of lightning, leaping from pale and shriveled fingertips.

A red blade cutting through countless figures in temple halls.

A lava planet, rivulets of molten gold like the eyes...

...of...?

"You were my brother..." 

Brother?

A clone? Raised a blaster at...she couldn't tell but...

"I HATE YOU!" Whose voice was that?

She knew that voice.

She knew...

Darkness laughed, a cackle, a malevolent presence watching, a heavy weight.

"Leave me alone!"

Darth Sidious frowned as he went to survey the Force and found one thread of awareness pushed away with a ferocity unbecoming of a Jedi.

"Leave me alone!"

He...recognized that presence. That was Anakin's apprentice. The one who'd left so abruptly at seeing him. Did she know?

'You're safe. It was just a dream. And a feeling. Nothing more,' she was telling herself. Then no. Still, she should not feel anything, The Jedi were all but blinded now, especially to the future.

Anakin was quite attached to her. If she were to die, that would cultivate anger. But perhaps too much, too soon. The end goal was to be able to reveal himself, for Anakin to become a Sith, which he might not do if a Sith had killed his padawan.

Perhaps, then...

There was darkness in her as well: fear, maybe even anger. And such power! Not alarming her particularly bright light would be a delicate endeavor. Judging by their last  interaction, even if she wasn't consciously aware of it, it would take alarm at the slightest bit of darkness (though why not at Anakin's, he didn't know). But winning her trust could potentially be useful.

Anakin had been going to politely refuse the invitation, but Ahsoka had asserted that he shouldn't.

"I can do it. And if I can't, I won't talk. Or I'll leave. I'd rather try."

"Are you sure?"

She'd nodded.

She seemed to be doing alright this time, too, mostly eating in silence, and letting Anakin and the Chancellor talk.

Ahsoka tried to gather her thoughts.

Her nightmare had left her unsettled. She kept having those dreams, fragments of something important she couldn't piece together or even quite remember upon waking.

The Chancellor interrupted her thoughts, asking if she liked any of the other padawans, if they were kind to her.

"Jedi are taught to always be kind," she answered, a little automatically.

"Of course," he replied.

A memory of Krell flickered through her mind, of things he'd say to make her angry, afraid, so she could wield the dark side. Not all Jedi were kind.

Well, he wasn't really a Jedi then, right?

(Were they leaving soon? How could Anakin talk for so long? She'd never known him to be a chatty person. She wondered how he and the Chancellor had become such good friends.)

She's fighting for her life, deflecting blaster bolts with two blue lightsabers as the clones shoot at her.

That dark laughter...

("Ahsoka? Ahsoka!")

Rex...

Rex, please whyareyoudoingthis?

She felt a deep tearing pain inside her, her bond with Anakin snapped, present and future--

"No!!!!"

Something shattered within her, and the world vanished in blinding white light.

Chapter Text

"Ahsoka!" he cried, the breaking of their Force-bond a painful ache.

She'd fallen to the ground, and he knelt beside her, feeling her pulse. It was faint.

"M-master. Master, please..." she gasped. He reached out and found that her presence was unshielded.

"A medic! We need a medic," he heard the Chancellor say.

She'd tried to warn him about her shields, he remembered, talking about light that didn't want to stay hidden, and he hadn't listened. Ahsoka, I failed you. I'm so sorry.

Just like you failed your mother, whispered a voice in his head.

"Your padawan was diagnosed with cardiogenic shock. Her condition is now stable. However," Master Vokara Che informed him, "it would seem that her Force-presence has somehow been merged with her physical state of being."

"What- what do you mean?" Anakin demanded, unable to keep his voice from trembling.

"Ordinarily, the Force energy of a Jedi's presence is just that, spiritual. Typically, unless being used, it exists in a state in which it doesn't directly interact with physical matter. Her Force presence has ceased to be purely spiritual in nature. I can't explain it, and I've never seen anything like it before, but I believe that was the cause for her medical condition as well. I must speak to the Council on this matter, Knight Skywalker. In the meantime, we'd like to keep her in the Halls of Healing."

"I want to see her." It should have been phrased as a polite request, but he was tiered of waiting, and worried beyond caring.

"Of course. This...may come as something of a shock, Knight Skywalker," she said gently. He was led to her room, where another healer was standing.

She was asleep, laying peacefully, which was a relief. And the striped on her head-tails and montrals glowed softly, as did the white markings on her face.

"Naturally, there is much we don't know. We can't yet say what the affects of this will be."

He barely heard her. He was looking at his padawan. "I'm sorry, Ahsoka."

"Curious, this is. Act strangely, did Padawan Tano, prior to this occurrence?" Master Yoda asked.

 Anakin frowned. "She- she said that she was having a hard time with shielding her presence. We worked on shields a bit, and she said it helped."

"Was shielding normally a hard skill for her?" Master Windu querried.

"No," he admitted. "She's usually great at it."

"Ahsoka had particularly advanced shielding abilities for her age," Obi-Wan agreed, "an unsurprising response to past trauma."

"Was there anything else you noticed?" Master Che asked. "Any information we can obtain will help us to help her."

He shook his head. "She was doing really well. She was talking more to more people. Any of the 501st would tell you they couldn't ask for a better commander."

"What about her training in the Force, hmm? Progress, was she making?"

"Great! She's taken really well to Jar'Kai. She had a lot of difficulty when I tried to teach her how to perform a mind trick, but I think that's a function of her having a hard time reaching out to presences she doesn't trust."

"Which brings us back to her shields," said Master Windu...

"...And they just talked in circles like that. They have no idea what's wrong with her! Or why she won't wake up!" Anakin finished telling the Chancellor. "And it's starting to feel like they don't care."

"I'm sure they are making every effort to help her recover," Palpatine replied. "All their expertise in the Force, surely she couldn't be in better hands."

"Sometimes I wonder if they know as much as they pretend to."

He smiled internally. Though certainly unplanned, this was yet another opportunity for his doubts about the order to grow. His description of what Vokara Che had said about her presence was particularly interesting.

"I'm sorry to hear all this, Anakin, particularly as you say she was making such progress as a Jedi."

"She seemed like she was doing so much better with her confidence, too, with healing after what she went through with Krell. I feel like the Order keeps failing her," Anakin confided.

"It truly sounds quite tragic. You have my sincerest wishes for her recovery. One would have to be blind not to see she's such a valuable member of the Order."

Anakin's comlink beeped. "Knight Skywalker?" came Master Che's voice.

Anakin visibly tensed. "What is it?"

"Your padawan is awake. She's asking for you."

Chapter Text

"Master!" Ahsoka hugged him tightly, the physical closeness providing some of the reassurance their broken bond could not. It had been new to her, since she'd just woken up, the ache almost overwhelming, an absence that she said bothered her far more than anything else, when she awoke.

She'd asked for Anakin, not wanting to listen to any explanations, or answer any of the healer's questions.

She seemed weary. "Was she experiencing any dizziness, or pain?" she was asked once Anakin was there and she'd calmed down. No. Anything else amiss? No. Could she shield her presence, aside from the visible aspect of it? Yes. Did she want something to eat? Yes, she seemed pleased with the idea of getting rid of the IV, though she didn't say so in so many words. What would she like to eat? She shrugged. Meat. Not poultry (birds were sacred on Shili). Beyond that, she didn't seem to care.

The disinterest was unlike her, he fretted.

Ahsoka wasn't sure how to feel.

It was hard to reconcile that something had happened to her that no one could fix. She wasn't sure she was actually processing, looking in the mirror, that this was just what she looked like now. That this was what she was going to see every time she looked at her reflection, what other people would see when they looked at her. People in the Temple, on missions-

Would she even be allowed to go on a mission again? The healers were wary, they spoke of Mind Healers, of keeping her in the Halls of Healing, of continuing to try to figure out what had happened and how to fix it.

She'd rather be seen like this, by far, than stay in the Halls. She actually felt fine, an assertion which no one seemed to believe. It seemed to be expected of her to not be fine, and she honestly didn't know what to do about the fact that, mostly, she was and she wanted to get back to life and her master and her brothers, thank you very much.

She couldn't stomach the idea of languishing here while her friends were fighting.

Her friends...

Rex holding that blaster- why would he fire a blaster at her? What could happen that would make him do that?

She wanted to see him, to hug him, to be reassured that no such thing was going to happen. But what was she supposed to say? "Hi Rex, I had a vision where you tried to kill me, and I really need you to tell me it won't ever come true." "So, Anakin, sometimes, when I see you, there's ash in the air, and lightsabers clashing and you're angry."

Why me? Why not show these things to someone who'd know what to do?

Every Jedi knew the dark, in recent years had been like ink turning water murky, clouding their ability to see into the future. So why could she?

For the first few days after waking, people, conversations, simply being, exhausted her.

It wasn't long, however, before she was released from the Halls of Healing (though she wasn't cleared to resume any assignments yet) and she seemed pretty much back to normal.

Which meant Anakin had no more excuses. "The Council...wants to speak to you." She nodded, evidently not as bothered as he was. How was that? That he could be more bothered than her when he wasn't the one going through all this? "They shouldn't be interrogating you!"

She stared at him in surprise, and he realized the gravity of saying something like that out loud. "Master, I- wanting to talk isn't..."

"You don't understand. They brought up...that you'd used the dark side in the past, like they don't trust you! Like they think this is something you did!"

Clearly troubled by this assessment, her face fell. "People are mistrustful of things they don't understand, I guess."

"It's still wrong," he barely managed to contain himself from shouting again. "They don't even listen, they just decide things."

"Anakin, you're scaring me." He wasn't sure if she meant the fact that he was saying those things or that they were true. "We're already fighting the Separatists; we can't afford to fight the Council. I'll tell them the truth, and they'll believe it. Or not."

Her acceptance was even more infuriating. "You don't understand! You shouldn't be at their mercy like this!"

She bit her lip, and he was quite certain her glowing faded from its warm white-gold to something more like sunlight reflected off ice.

Looking left a cold ache inside him.

Chapter Text

It turned out that what the Council wanted was an assessment of when she might return to the battlefield.

There was palpable tension though; she got what Anakin meant, sort of. Master Windu, and a couple of the other councilmembers seemed somewhat wary of her. Still, she was unsettled by her master's earlier anger. She sighed. He was stubborn; once he decided he felt a certain way, he wasn't apt to change his mind. What though, had provoked such outrage toward the Council, she didn't know.

She should go find him, but she found herself stalling. She was a bit apprehensive as to what mood he might be in when she did.

Well. There were other people she owed visits to, too.

"Did Anakin not tell you?" Ahsoka laughed at her dismayed brothers.

"With all due respect," said Jesse, "that is krffing awesome."

"Not for stealth missions," she pointed out.

"You scared us!" Kix said. "No one would tell us anything-- what happened?"

She gave them a simplified explanation of what the healers had told her.

"Force stuff," Fives sighed, shaking his head. "The way you talk about it, one might get the impression it makes sense.'

"Oh no, this one doesn't make sense to anyone," Ahsoka reassured him. "I can't stay long, Anakin's gonna want to know how the Council meeting went."

In the end, however, Anakin arrived several hours later to find Ahsoka asleep with her head on Echo's shoulder. Not to say that was anything new; Ahsoka was often tired, a fifteen-year-old fighting a war. And most of the clones would sooner be her pillow than wake her from the little sleep she got.

The Force felt more present, Ahsoka said. Which, Anakin supposed, it literally was.

He noticed in little ways too. Considering that their new bond was still quite faint she did a surprisingly good job speaking to him telepathically. Astoundingly good, in fact. Normally telepathic speech came across as gentle almost-words, somewhere between motion and thought: either really specific feelings or really vague words.

Ahsoka, however- it was like hearing the sound of her voice. 

What he ought to have felt as just a sharp sense of warning? "Droid! Behind you!" 

Obi-Wan, who would frequently join them for their training sessions, looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "Ahsoka? Can you try projecting to Rex?"

She frowned. "But he wouldn't hear me?"

"Try."

She closed her eyes, her an expression of concentration. And several metres away a briefly startled look crossed Rex's face.

Whatever mission Anakin was discussing with the Chancellor was either really complicated, or they were chatting again. She experimentally listened at the door, wondering which it was, an easy feat with her Togrutan hearing, and she heard her own name:

"I think Obi-Wan's going to tell the Council about what Ahsoka was able to do," Anakin was saying.

"You don't think he should?"

"I'm worried they'll act out of fear. Like they tried to with me, when they almost wouldn't allow me into the Order."

What would the Council be afraid of? she wondered.

As if in answer to her she heard the Chancellor's reply: "You think they'll be afraid of her power."

Krell had said that word, in reference to her, but...Ahsoka had never thought of herself as having power, really. It just hadn't occurred to her somehow. Powerful. She tested the word in her mind.

She'd spoken to Rex through the Force. For the first time, a question followed: What else could she do?

Chapter Text

Ahsoka focused, dimming the glow of her montrals slightly in the darkness so as not to be blindingly bright.

She'd taught herself to control it somewhat- it was sort of like shielding, but she'd had to alter the technique a bit for her presence. Directing more of her light into her hand she held it out in front of her to study the carvings in the stone.

The Council had sent them to retrieve a recently located holocron from an ancient Jedi Temple on Tython, having received intel suggesting that Dooku wanted it too.

Her montrals prickled.

"Did you hear that?"

Rex shook his head.

"Hear what?" Anakin asked.

They stopped walking to listen. "Nothing, I guess," Ahsoka said slowly, stepping forward again.

A few more paces led them to a wall. Ahsoka raised her hand, lighting two doors that led into the darkness.

"Figures," Jesse said dully. "Are we splitting up?"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Anakin muttered.

"We've got to find this thing before someone else does," Ahsoka pointed out. "You go right, I'll go left. That's what comlinks are for, right?" She turned, Rex and Echo following her while Jesse and Fives went with Anakin.

Honestly, though, after a few minutes, she was starting to regret her suggestion. Her echolocation made her a little too aware of how narrow this passage was, and the ceiling dripped with moisture, and it gathered between her montrals, dripping down the center of her face so that she had to keep wiping water off her nose.

She felt a flicker of cold. Not real cold; because of the Force energy she radiated, Ahsoka rarely felt actually cold. No, this was uneasy cold. Like the dark side.

"Something wrong, Commander?" Echo asked.

"I sense darkness."

Rex pulled out his blaster. "Ventress? Should we call General Skywalker?"

"It doesn't feel like a person," she replied. "We'll keep going. But carefully."

The darkness uncurled like a creature rousing from sleep, and she felt its gaze like the eyes of an Akul. It sang: Come...destiny...shadows...power. Ahsoka tensed. Darkness wasn't good, but darkness that spoke was worse. Though she couldn't peace together any meaning from the strings of words, her apprehension increased.

"Call Anakin."

Echo pulled out his comlink. A moment's pause, then: "It's not working."

Hoping desperately that it just needed a new power cell, even while something told her that wasn't the case, Ahsoka pulled out her own comlink to find the same result. "Okay," she said trying to calm herself. "We're going to go back to-"

A faint blue glow appeared ahead. Diming the light of her outstretched hand she saw, "the holocron! Come on."

Quickening her pace, she stepped into the large open chamber, where the source of the blue light sat atop a pillar in the room's center. Unlike any holocron she'd ever seen before, it was a perfect sphere.

It doesn't exactly feel like a Jedi holo-

"Commander," Rex said urgently. "Ahsoka!"

The sound of a lightsaber igniting startled her out of her reverie. She whirled around to find Ventress standing in a doorway on the other side of the room.

Tano. Was glowing. Both literally and in the Force.

Asajj Ventress always had a taunt ready for whoever she went into battle against. But this time she was utterly speechless. Fine, as much as she liked to talk, she could still fight. She drew her lightsabers. 

It wasn't just her appearance. There was something else, too... Skywalker's padawan had always felt powerful, but it had been a quiet sort of unrealized power. Now it was more awake, or perhaps Tano was more awakened to it. Her presence had a clearer shape, more deliberately cultivated. Ventress saw in her eyes actual ambition. Not like the proper ambition a Force-user should have, a desire for power, but nonetheless a desire for change beyond just the immediate present, and that change she found more worrying than the glow around the Togruta's montrals.

Asajj couldn't afford to risk anything right now. She needed her enemy to be distracted, and the best way to do that was...

Seizing on the opportunity created in the moment Tano drew her lightsabers, preparing for an attack, she leapt, not at the Jedi, but over her, using the Force to pull one of the clones into the air to meet her crimson blade. 

"REX!"

Good. That should keep her occupied.

Rex had long since gotten used to his little sister talking to him without words.

It wasn't like how he would have imagined telepathy. She certainly wasn't a voice speaking in his head. It was more like the feeling of when she hugged him, except less tangible, that brought impressions of thoughts and emotions. They were kind of non-descript, but he was getting better at interpreting them.

It almost made him wish... well, to Anakin, to another Jedi, who could feel them better, they'd be far more than words, not far less.

Nonetheless, what he felt from her now hurt more than the burning agony in his shoulder.

"Rex."

"Go," he gestured at the door Ventress had run out of. "The mission."

"I'm not leaving you!"

The emotion was more distant now, further away. The world dimmed, till her really only saw her and Echo's outline, the rest a dark blur.

"Commander..."

His eyes were so heavy...

"Rex, no! Look at me. Look at me, that's an order!" It was the quietest he'd ever heard the sound of a scream.

"Go," he murmured.

Her hand curled around his, her presence wrapped around his, except now it felt less like an embrace and more like she was holding onto him from the edge of an abyss.

"You can't have Rex," she said. Who...was she talking to? Her eyes closed, and the glow around her flared, burning bright, but he didn't look away. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he felt that light beyond seeing it. It was a part of everything and he was a part of it. It gathered itself, and he felt...

...peace. The pain in his shoulder faded into nothing, the ache of his back from the cots they slept on was nothing more than a memory.

"Ahsoka?" The light around her had softened, returning to its normal gentle glow

"Rex? What..." she rubbed her eyes. "You...we..."

"The holocron," he said quickly. He...he was fine. Now wasn't the time to ask.

"The holocron," she echoed. "Right."

Chapter Text

He picks up the bowl of ash, mixed with her own blood, slowly painting a circle on the ground around her.

"Now. Speak to me of my death, and let it die with you."

A candle. A chalice, "Choose."

She lifts the candle reluctantly off the stone in front of her, her eyes darting back to the cup. "What's in it?"

The only reply is laughter. As her mouth curls into a frown, she realizes that she's the one laughing.

An ethereal figure lifted their gaze up from the greenery they'd been inspecting.

Green eyes widened. "Ahsoka?"

Ahsoka drifted back into herself through a sense of warmth and peace, realizing with a jolt that she had no idea what she was doing or why. Rex? Her hand hovered near his shoulder. There was...something had happened?

She shook her head quickly, trying to clear the cloud of tranquility she found herself in.

"The holocron," Rex cried.

Oh. "Right. The holocron," she repeated. The peace subsided slightly as she ran, not entirely sure where she was going. Rex. Rex had been hurt! She almost wished she hadn't remembered, the image of him lying there was too vivid in her mind. She felt a deep certainty that he was alright now, though. How-

"Commander!" Echo called from several meters behind her. "A little slower, please?"

"Sorry," she said quickly, annoyed at herself. She hadn't been paying attention. Again. That was how Rex had gotten hurt in the first place!

She tried to focus more on her surroundings as the three of them emerged from the tunnel, just in time to see Ventress' ship lift into the sky.

"The Council's not going to like this..."

To his credit, General Skywalker did an impressive job restraining his panic while it was explained to him that Rex had almost died and Ahsoka had somehow saved him and had no recollection of doing so. He did, however, have Kix check that they were both alright the second their shuttle rendezvoused with the Resolute.

To everyone's relief (Rex included), Rex was absolutely fine.

However, to the medic's dismay, the same Force energy that made Commander Tano's montrals glow also seemed to interfere with the scanner, so all he could really do was check her vitals and send her on her way when he found nothing obviously wrong.

"You really don't remember?" Rex asked her quietly.

She looked up at him. "I remember. Just not healing you. My mind was somewhere else; I had another vision."

"Another?"

"I've had them... ever since I was assigned to Anakin, I guess."

Visions? He wasn't really sure what that meant; people said the Jedi saw into the future sometimes, but people said a lot of things about Jedi, so it was always hard to know what was true. Mostly, Rex and his brothers had been of the mentality that what powers their Jedi might or might not have was really none of their business. That wasn't to say no one had ever wondered or even briefly discussed what it might be like to be able to make objects float, or what made Jedi powers different from stuff Ventress did, but those conversations were always short-lived, because in the end, they all knew that General Skywalker and Commander Tano would do everything within their abilities to protect their soldiers, and the same was true the other way around, and nothing else really mattered.

(Anyway, power was not on the list of things clones were supposed to think about; it was far out of their reach.)

"Have you told him that?" Rex asked. Her master would be far more qualified to discuss such a thing than Rex.

Her eyes widened. "No! No, he worries about me too much already. He keeps too many secrets; I don't want to add another one. And he'll think it's his fault and..."

She was too little to be having to worry about all that, Rex thought sadly. Sometimes he wished Anakin would get his emotional act together for her if not for himself, although it was somewhat of a traitorous thought.

He intended to tell her he was sorry, that if she ever needed someone to talk to, he was there. Instead he asked, "What is the Force like?"

He should not have said that. 'Good soldiers follow orders, keep your thoughts quiet, do not burden the Jedi with your trivial inner monologues, Jedi powers are not your concern, we have no idea what the Force is, but whatever it may be, it is not for you to think of.' Asking that was a rebellion against every piece of training the Kaminoans had- 

"The Force is...well, it's energy that connects everything. It's a bit like light or any other kind of energy, I guess: concentrated in some places, or different in quality, just like there's different colors of light."

"Oh," he managed.

She frowned. "Rex, it's okay to ask questions."

"With all due respect Commander, you have no idea what you're talking about."

Chapter Text

Ahsoka felt so guilty for missing that about Rex, that-

She tried to pay attention to the lesson in Force-healing that the Council was making her take, but in reality, she'd barely even heard the padawan's introduction.

Kriff the Kaminoans! These are people, they're entitled to the same curiosities and freedom of thought as all other sentients.

"...okay?" Ahsoka heard.

"Um...sorry, I think I missed most of that. I was a bit distracted," she admitted.

"Maybe you should meditate; that always helps me when I'm distracted. I can meet you in an hour, if you need to refocus."

Anakin would have found the comment, and Barriss' evident by-the-book philosophy annoying, but Ahsoka got the impression that she wasn't trying to be patronizing, but genuinely helpful. "Meditation isn't really my thing, but thanks for the suggestion. Would you mind just explaining again?"

"Sure. So the main idea of healing is to transfer Force energy. Well, maybe I should explain that better, then. Unlike a lot of other force abilities, healing isn't done by manipulating the Force energy present in your surroundings, it's the energy from your own presence. You direct that energy into the person you're trying to heal, and focus on that intention. The greater the injury, the more draining and potentially dangerous healing is, and the more focus it takes. The hard part is getting the energy to actually do anything- that's the part that takes practice. That's pretty much all as far as explanation is concerned."

"I think that makes sense."

Barriss gave her a small smile. "Why does the Council want you to learn, by the way? If you don't mind sharing."

"I unintentionally did it. On my last mission. So they want me to learn how to do it properly, I guess," she said, suddenly feeling shy. The accidental use of a Force ability didn't seem like something Padawan Offee would approve of.

"Huh. Must have been quite a mission."

Ahsoka laughed. "It definitely was. Ventress showed up, and..."

Barriss was an enjoyable person, and actually more interesting to talk to than Ahsoka would have thought. Anakin was good about it too- which was more than she'd been expecting given how critical and mistrustful he'd been lately of Jedi with more stringent adherence to the Council- seeming just happy that she'd made a friend. 

A couple of weeks after the mission to Tython, Ahsoka started hearing the dark side in the Temple. Her perception of the Force had always been closest to auditory, maybe because as a Togruta, hearing was her most powerful sense. The Force sang in its many and varied voices. It was almost always a voice, usually wordless, unless it was talking to her. All she had ever heard at the Temple before had been light.

The dark here was as jarring as a stranger's voice in one's home in the dead of night, which was exactly how she experienced it. A piercing note of song that pulled downward.

In the Temple? Where would it come from? she thought, fear curling around her heart.

Downward.

She'd thought it simply an allegory for Falling, but perhaps it was more literal.

"Did the floor do something wrong?" Anakin laughed as she walked through the hall, staring at the tile.

Maybe. She didn't know.

Downward.

She shouldn't even think about it. Probably, she should just tell the Council and let them deal with it, but something told her they might not react well to the accusation of darkness in their own Temple. They'd probably even question why it sang to her specifically.

And she knew why. Faint wisps of shadow had wrapped around the tips of her head-tails when she'd been Krell's padawan. It wanted her back, and in an arrogant point of contention with the light claimed residence in some part of her spirit.

She didn't know how to make it leave. Only how to burry it with light.

Just like the Temple buried that pinprick of darkness.

She'd have to find out what was wrong with the Temple herself, she decided. then, at least, she'd have something specific to ask for Anakin's help with. She was starting to discover that he did better solving specific problems than vague ones.

Downward. That seemed like as good a place to start as any- it was the only clue she had. She took the lift as far down as it would take her, and promptly finding a maze of storage rooms.

"You want me to find you? Tell me how to get there," she muttered mostly to herself. The floor creaked forebodingly.

"It's just a room full of training sabers gathering dust. Nothing creepy," she reassured herself. "Nothing to see here. Going back up to-"

Her foot caught on a vent covering an air duct.

"I'm going to regret this," she whispered, getting on her hands and knees, and crawling into the sloping tunnel. It would have become pitch black pretty quickly if not for the soft glow of her head-tails illuminating the metal in front of her.

Cre-eak.

"Yup, this was a bad idea-"

The metal underneath her groaned one last time, giving way underneath her, and Ahsoka fell.

Chapter Text

"Ahsokah?"

Ashla's heart, in her imagination, raced.

If the vision was to believed, Ahsokah was every bit as much her child as she was Alina and Efron Tano's. That nonexistent heart of hers ached.

But Ahsokah had not been with either of the two Togrutas. In her vision, Ashla had seen only a Brother, injured and clad in blue armor, and it was for his life Ahsokah pleaded.

Where is the rest of our family? Do they even still draw breath? 

This was why Father had made them leave. Such short-lived beings mustn't be able to upset the balance. Nothing must upset the balance. Millenia must pass and Father, Son, and Daughter must be staid in their existence.

Time made doubt, and doubt disobedience of thought and Will. And for a Force-Wielder, the line between Will and Happening was all too thin. Her Sibling was no different, though by his nature, his rebellion was hateful.

It would almost be easier, Ashla thought, if she could hate, if she did not love Father, if her loyalty was to herself and herself only.

But Ahsokah.

Softly glowing tears slid down her face. I am so sorry.

She reached out, calling Morai to her, her companion for as long as she could remember, and the only corporeal means of influence had that could leave the planet. Father had a Loth Wolf, and her Sibling had a serpent, and her little convor had been the subject of many taunts from him. But she'd always appreciated Morai's nimble wings and sharp eyes, and besides, she couldn't imagine Morai being anything else. Morai was just Morai.

"I have a task for you," she began. "Would you go to..." she frowned. Where to start looking?

"Do tell. Where indeed is Morai going?"

"Brother!" she cried in alarm. Morai hooted loudly. "What are you doing here?"

"Father says it will soon be time to summon the Chosen One to take his place. He wishes to speak to you."

She stood. "So soon?"

"It is not time for a new ruler. It is time for us to leave," he declared furiously, ignoring her and pacing back and forth.

"I know what you will do if you leave. We've discussed this before," Ashla replied. "Tell Father I will be there."

"Where are you sending her, Ashla?"

"I'm still trying to find a name for you, Brother," she lied.

"I do not need a name. Names are for messengers," he gestured to Morai, "and mortals."

"What will the Chosen One call you? Not 'Son,' surely. You are eons older than him."

Her Brother grumbled, and took to his winged form, flying away.

"Morai, I want you to go to Shili. Find out what became of my family."

Chapter Text

Ahsoka's echolocation usually made being in a pitch black room only a minor inconvenience, and her glowing montrals had made it even less.

Neither, however, helped her right now. If the room she was in had walls, or a ceiling, they were too far away for either to help. Stars, if it had been that far of a fall to the ground, she was lucky be in one piece, even having cushioned her fall with the Force.

On the other hand, if she'd only survived to end up totally trapped down here...well, that wasn't worth much. Summoning all her will-power, she'd brightened her glow as much as she possibly could, holding out a hand to illuminate something, anything.

There had been nothing to illuminate, except the ground.

Why had she thought it was a good idea to follow that darkness down here? Why hadn't she asked Anakin, or anyone for help?

Would anyone else have really done anything?

What do I do? She could walk, but she had no idea where she was. She just wanted something to lay eyes upon, anything but this nothingness.

A figure clad in black armor, the hiss of a respirator.

She fought to pull herself out of the vision.

The screams of younglings, the sound of a lightsaber, a hooded figure.

Rex, aiming his blaster at a traitor.

"...is hereby expelled from the Jedi Order-"

"And she shall be executed for treason against the Republic-" 

She and Ventress run from Anakin who stands watching her from the other side of the forcefield, a look of defeat on his face.

"No," she whispered. "No, I wouldn't do that!"

She closed her eyes, blinking away tears.

What had she been thinking? That she could deal with something that made enough darkness to sense in the Temple, by herself? Arrogance wasn't usually one of her faults, what-

She remembered the Chancellor's words. Really, Ahsoka? You hear him say that and then start thinking you're a Master or a Councilmember or something? It hadn't just been that, though. Having been able to heal Rex...might not have helped either. But that hadn't really been her, or at least, it wasn't something she knew how to do again. It shouldn't have made her think-

She reached out, opening herself to the Force, trying to calm herself, If there was darkness from this place that reached the Temple, there must be light down here too.

But the darkness shaped itself slowly into something, in her mind. Ahsoka opened her eyes. It was a map. The Force was showing her a way out! She set out diagonally to her left, seeing the path in her mind. She climbed a set of stairs, passing through archways, along which red ivy grew, pulsing with a faint glow.

There was a tunnel on the other side of the dark Temple, that would take her up into Coruscant's city. She wasn't sure how she knew, she just knew.

Her sudden insight, however, did not prepare her for the actual feeling of walking through the Sith shrine. The darkness managed to be even worse, which she wouldn't have thought possible. It twisted out of a deep well in the center of the room, rising upward toward-

The Jedi Temple. How did the Council not know? Or worse, did they know? She felt ill, quickly leaving the room.

She had never in all her life been so relieved to see daylight.

She'd also never felt so uncertain upon walking into her home. Was she really going to betray her family? She wouldn't. She would make sure it didn't happen.

If she only knew how.

Chapter Text

It felt better to have Anakin know about her visions, and the Sith shrine that he agreed the Council couldn't possibly not know about.

She sort of wished one of them knew what to do about either of those things, though.

What was more, the map of the Sith shrine had stayed firmly in her memory. She even found herself visiting it in dreams; traversing hallways carpeted with eerie red-glowing vines. She had no idea what that meant, but she didn't think it was anything good.

Nor was that the only place her dreams took her. She revisited the temple on Tython, and a pyramidal one that seemed to be underground as well.

Anakin, more than a little taken aback when she confided in him about her dreams, looked up some meditation exercises she did before going to sleep to help direct her mind elsewhere. They mostly worked.

Still, within a month, Ahsoka could have drawn a perfect map of any of the three temples.

In fact, she did. She found that putting them on paper (it was old fashioned, but the details wouldn't come into her mind if she tried to draw them on a holopad) even made the dreams subside. She drew the pyramid, she drew a hall full of statues, she drew maps of twisting tunnels.

She could tell this worried Anakin. Honestly, it worried her too, but... well, the visions seemed less volatile, her head even hurt less, when she drew them.

It didn't, however, lessen the unease she'd been feeling in the past weeks, about the darkness in the Jedi Temple.

Apparently, Anakin had his own apprehensions.

"I have a really bad feeling," he said to her, "about Dooku having that holocron."

"I don't know if he can open it," Ahsoka pointed out. "It's not a Sith holocron."

"It didn't quite seem like a Jedi holocron."

"The Jedi on Tython hadn't really figured out how dangerous the dark side was, I guess. They weren't as strictly light as..." she trailed off. Wait. When had she learned that? I must have read it somewhere. Right? Obivously?

"Since when do you pay attention to history?" he teased before his expression became serious. "I just feel like...I don't know. Like something bad is going to happen."

"Great. Let's have a sparring match. Spend the afternoon in existential dread together," she rolled her eyes.

His heart froze when he saw the look on Rex's face.

"Who-?"

"Commander Tano, sir. She's-"

Anakin leapt to his feet. "No. No, Rex, you don't know what you're talking about- she's not-" I would have felt it.

"She's missing, sir." Anakin could see him trying to keep himself together, but his eyebrows were furrowed with worry.

Missing. Missing doesn't mean dead, missing doesn't mean dead, missingdoesn'tmeandead. You'd have felt if she was dead, she's not dead.

"We'll find her, Rex. Just tell me where to look."

Ahsoka gasped. She was not going to give Ventress the satisfaction of hearing her cry out in agony, but she couldn't breathe, her vision blurred, and she was dimly aware of someone saying something...

I'm dying, she thought vaguely.

The next thing she heard was Ventress' voice. "Sorry, you don't get to die."

She coughed, delighted to feel that there was no collar around her throat.

"I get it. No Force-suppression."

Oh. Yeah, she probably wouldn't have reacted well to that, would she? At least, it followed with what the healers had said about her presence.

"Assuming you want me alive, nope."

"I also didn't want your master showing up," she pointed out. "But no matter. We're here."

"Where?" Ahsoka asked, a sense of dread filling her.

Ventress smiled. "Serenno."

Chapter Text

So this was Skywalker's apprentice.

There was nothing to be admired in her; she lacked discipline just as her master did. It showed in her presence. She was less Human even than a typical Togruta, with that strange glow of hers. Trust his master to be intrigued purely at the potential for power, with no regard for the quality of the being possessing it, Dooku thought.

Still, she would serve her purpose.

"I require a Jedi to open the holocron I acquired on Tython," he told her.

She lifted her head to glare at him with those impudent turquoise eyes of hers. "You mean the one you sent your assassin to acquire for you?"

"Everything Ventress does is of my design. Are you really so different, bowing to the whims of the Republic?" 

"If you want that holocron open, I'm afraid you're going to have to do something for yourself for once," she declared.

"There are plenty of other Jedi. If you will not cooperate, you will die, and perhaps I'll find...say a youngling, who hasn't lost all their sense to the Council yet."

Her eyes narrowed in surprisingly transparent fury, for a Jedi, and she gave a low growl. He could see her searching for a way out, her eyes like a trapped Tooka cat. "Fine."

Jedi notions of morality. So predictable. So easy to manipulate. A Jedi would do anything to save a child, even kill hundreds by offering their enemy knowledge on a silver platter.

"That's what I thought."

Apparently the spherical holocron required both sides of the Force to open. She was to open the silver capstone before he would open the other and learn...whatever secrets the ancient Jedi on Tython had to offer him.

Ahsoka floated it above her palm, letting the warmth of the light flow through her. She heard a soft click that told her she'd done it. It was amazing how something so easy to a Jedi was so impossible for a Sith, despite all the power they claimed to have.

And now he was going to kill her, she didn't doubt. At least, she doubted he was just going to give her a ship and send her on her way.

I don't want to die.

It was a selfish thought, born of fear, and she did her best to quell it--

A second click reverberated through the air.

For an instant, she saw the shock written across Dooku's face. And then a flare of purple light engulfed Ahsoka's vision.

She was back on Tython, outside the temple ruins, except...they weren't ruins anymore. The stone temple stood proudly against the blue sky with its two moons faintly visible in the daylight. She stared in awe. It was truly an impressive sight; the crumbling ruins could never have given her sufficient material for her imagination to do it justice.

"I am Je'daii Master Rhea. To whom am I speaking?"

Oh, Force. She'd- she'd used- she'd opened the holocron. Was this how she Fell, then? Was-

"Are you alright?"

"No," Ahsoka choked.

"No," Rhea agreed. "You're..." she peered at Ahsoka, "a Seer. They tend to be troubled people."

"A Seer," she repeated blankly, temporarily distracted. Sure, there was the Jedi rank of Seer, but it wasn't really a thing anymore.

"You don't know?" Master Rhea said, her face horrified and disbelieving and pitying all at once. "No one's taught you? No one's helped you? I don't understand; you're not untrained."

Her expression was so genuinely concerned. Maybe...Dooku had been wrong about the holocron? "Of course not," Ahsoka said, a little offended. "I'm a Jedi Padawan."

"What competent master would ignore such a thing? Child, without the training to control it--" she shook her head. "You must find a teacher immediately. I myself have not studied it in depth, or I'd happily instruct you."

"I don't- you can control visions?" Ahsoka asked in dismay.

"Some people are particularly prone to visions. But Sight is something more. A Seer's exceptional connection to the Unifying Force can and must be controlled. Or they lose their grasp on present reality. You must consult with your master at once," she said adamantly.

An icy terror filled her. She'd never heard anyone talk about this. What if no one could help her? "The Jedi have lost their foresight over the centuries. Because the dark side's gotten so strong. I don't think--"

Master Rhea tilted her head, frowning. "But Sight isn't a gift of Ashla."

"What?" Ahsoka all but screamed. She'd been- "But the Jedi don't use the dark side! Or our Jedi don't. Now. You don't know, but it's dangerous and evil! The Order split in two, and the followers of the dark called themselves Sith and killed thousands upon thousands, and almost destroyed the Jedi. We only use the light now, we haven't used the dark side in thousands of years."

"No wonder you haven't been taught," Rhea said softly. "They probably don't know of its existence. You have to use the dark side to develop Sight and even then, very few do. Which begs the question..." she looked curiously at Ahsoka.

"My first master Fell and betrayed to Order. He made me use the dark side. But it was wrong! I can't keep doing it!" But she had, hadn't she, to open the holocron in the first place?

Rhea shook her head. "The darkness isn't your problem. You need a teacher. Soon."

"But-"

The landscape flickered and disappeared, and Ahsoka instead found herself back in Dooku's palace. She was floating about a foot above the ground, the holocron floating far in front of her, a sphere of violet energy around her. Dooku's hand was outstretched, lightning crackling from his hands. Though none of it hit Ahsoka, yet, the purple forcefield protecting her, it was beginning to waver, the holocron pulsing with its violet glow, faster and faster.

Then it shattered. Her only means of help, a smoking pile of ash. "No!"

"How did you open it?" Dooku yelled, eyes gold with fury.

And the lightning wrapped her in an embrace of agony.

She heard only her screams.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka visits the pyramid temple in her mind again.

It has a name, this time: Malachor.

She isn't alone, either.

(Maybe it's the pain of the lightning? That would make sense, if her visions are a dark side power.)

There's a Jedi with her, and his padawan. And they have names she knows, too: Kanan and Ezra.

There's a Shadow there. A presence colored red and black and the occasional flicker of poisonous green.

She doesn't know his name. She's not so sure he does either.

Ahsoka yanked herself out of the vision, trying to keep herself present, remembering Rhea's warning, and not wanting to use the dark side--

A graveyard of clones-

It was like trying to swim in a stormy ocean. The agony of the present pushed her down into the future again:

Plo Koon in a ship that trails smoke, spiraling toward the ground.

She couldn't even cry out anymore-

Ezra again, a figure with a double-bladed red lightsaber stepping toward him as he backs away toward the edge of a cliff. 

"I will teach you what your master could not." The Pau'an vows, except it's not just him; she can follow the shadowy snaking words to another, a hooded Sith with yellow eyes, The Sith. And he's not talking to Ezra.

He's talking to her. Here. Now.

"NO!"

No, that wasn't--

"Please," she croaked.

Her head hurt. She...hurt...

Someone was calling her name. A bird? No, birds didn't talk.

"Master!"

It happened the exact moment Anakin burst into the throne room:

Ahsoka screamed, a scream that tore him in two, and a bird flew from...somewhere, raking claws across Dooku's face.

It was Dooku's turn to scream. His face dripped with crimson. His eye--

Anakin didn't want to look at it, and that was saying something.

"Master!"

His padawan wrapped her arms around him with far too much desperation for him to even dream of making her let go. Any thought of seeking a fight with Dooku abandoned for the time being, he called on the Force to help him carry her.

"It's gonna be okay. I'm here."

The bird screeched. Run!

He...wasn't going to question it right now.

The clones dealt with any droids between them and the ship. Ahsoka somehow managed to hold him even more tightly, but when they got to the ship, she let him put her down, let Kix examine her.

"What happened?" Anakin asked her.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Then she buried her head in his shoulder and cried.

At some point Anakin must have fallen asleep in the chair next to her, because he woke up with his neck aching.

Ahsoka was asleep, but she must not have been the whole time, because the floor was piled with more papers. Drawings, but this time of people.

A boy with black hair.

A man who wore a blindfold.

A Pau'an with a red lightsaber and yellow eyes.

A silhouette with yellow eyes.

Ahsoka with yellow eyes.

The last one made him shiver.

How did she even get paper, on the ship? He looked across the room--

--to see the green bird sitting on top of a small pile of blank sheets. It chirped at him.

"How did you get here?"

A long, shrill cry.

"What do you want with Ahsoka?"

It took flight briefly, flying in a circle and alighting on the rail of the cot she was laying in.

"No." He shooed it away. It circled several times before landing in the same spot.

He glared at it.

The little bird blinked at him serenely.

"If you hadn't just saved her life, you would be in trouble right now. As it is, you might still be."

The bird chirped loudly at him, then bent its head down to preen its feathers. Something told him it wasn't going anywhere.

Chapter Text

The truth of Rhea's words left Ahsoka with nowhere to go.

It was a double-edged sword. Darkness or the inability to distinguish present from future.

Falling or insanity. Was there even a difference?

The convor was gone, a small wooden bird in its place. It felt very familiar. Ahsoka frowned. Where would she have...

One thing at a time. Her current predicament required her attention right now.

She might not have a choice at all. If she couldn't find a teacher...

"Master?" she asked softly.

"Ahsoka, if you need a teacher, we'll find you one," he said firmly.

He was ignoring the drawings, and pretending at certainty he didn't have. She appreciated the first. The second... "You don't really know that."

He sighed. "It's not like it could be Dooku or Ventress. I don't think either of them...See."

"I don't think so either. Anyway, they wouldn't just give me lessons if they did," Ahsoka agreed.

"And I'm not exactly on friendly speaking terms with any Sith."

Ahsoka shuddered. Her head was hurting again. She reached for another paper.

"So no, I don't know in that sense. But Ahsoka," Anakin continued, "My job as your master is to train you. And I know I'll do it. If that means finding someone to teach you to control your visions, that's what I'll do."

"A darksider?" she asked doubtfully, pencil gliding.

"We'll do what we have to do. Carefully. Like always. In the meantime, I'll research visions, and Seers."

She smiled. "I'll be laying here till Kix lets me leave," she laughed. "Drawing, probably."

Anakin looked at the one she was working on currently. It was a full scene. She'd sketched Anakin holding a pair of lightsabers: one on ether side of Dooku's throat. Obi-Wan laying on the floor nearby, And the Chancellor sitting with stuncuffs around his wrists, a prisoner.

Anakin looked powerful. Dooku looked frightened. The Chancellor looked surprisingly pleased, for a prisoner. Obi-Wan looked dead.

"Have fun," he murmured.

It was Anakin's idea that she try to have a vision of a potential teacher. Which was a good idea, except she had no idea how to dictate what her visions were about. She might be able to learn. If she had a teacher.

But she tried, anyway. Tried meditating, focusing. But if anything, it made her visions disappear altogether.

"They're from the dark side. Maybe you have to be angry," he suggested tentatively.

Ahsoka closed her eyes. "I think," she said slowly, "it might be time to visit the Sith Temple again."

Chapter Text

Ahsoka's description of the Sith Temple hadn't done it justice. It was a maze of hallways and staircases, many of which ended in dead ends or were riddled with sections of floor that would give way if you stepped on them and send you tumbling down who knew how far.

Which made sense. No doubt its architect had relished the idea of people getting lost and dying down here.

Ahsoka navigated it unerringly, though she was more apprehensive about being down here than he was. Sometimes he wondered if something was wrong with him, but dark side places had never instilled in him the fear they did every other Jedi he knew. There was always curiosity where there should have been fear. Not that he wanted to use the dark side, but he wondered about who had built this place and why and what they were thinking.

And if the dark side was so deplorable, why were so many so tempted by it?

Not to say he was without misgivings; his just weren't tied to this specific place. Was he doing the right thing, with Ahsoka?

Should he be asking someone else for help? Surely telling the Council was a bad idea. But if he was trying to help her use the dark side without Falling, maybe there were more qualified people to guide her. Mace Windu--

His comlink beeped.

"It's probably nothing," he said, answering it.

"Anakin," came Obi-Wan's voice, "Anakin, the Chancellor wants to speak with us."

"I'll be there," he sighed.

"Where are you, by the way? I've been looking all over the Temple for you."

"Uh, you must have missed me. I've been out walking," he lied. "You know, helps with stress. See you soon."

He clicked off the comlink before Obi-Wan could answer.

"Ahsoka. Guess that means we have to go."

His padawan didn't open her eyes. He walked over to where she was sitting meditating. "Ahsoka," he said loudly. Her montrals were glowing less brightly than usual.

He shook her. She remained unresponsive as ever. Was she having a vision? Or was something wrong? He had to go, before Obi-Wan--

He picked her up, using the Force to help carry her down the hallway he remembered coming through. Away from the focal point of the center of the Temple, her eyes fluttered open.

"Ahsoka! We've got to go, Obi-Wan is--" His foot barely missed a weakened section of floor that crumbled, revealing emptiness below.

"Kanan! Be careful," she said, vivid concern in her blue eyes.

"Kanan?" he echoed.

"The Inquisitors are enough of a problem without one of us falling and breaking something."

"Ahsoka, what are you-- No, Ahsoka. I'm Anakin. You're here. Now."

She didn't seem to hear him.

He turned left, down a set of stairs. She stopped. "No, we keep going straight," she said firmly.

"We turned right on the way here."

"Not here. It's further down. We went down a set of stairs, not up one, remember?"

He distinctly remembered going down them. Ahsoka wasn't even mentally here. She thought he was Kanan, how would she know--

"It's this way, Ahsoka."

"We have to go. They'll have called Vader."

"Come on," he said gently, guiding her down the steps. "Let's get back to the Temple."

She blinked. "But this is--"

"Our Temple. The Jedi Temple."

She furrowed her brow.

"Look at me, Ahsoka. I'm Anakin. Your master."

She stepped backward. "That- that can't be. You're dead. He killed--"

As they reached the bottom of the steps, a sharp crack pierced the air. The entire floor beneath them gave way and they plummeted into darkness.

Ahsoka opened her eyes. "Ugh, my montrals feel like I fell on a bunch of rocks and-"

She wasn't at the dark shrine anymore. She was in a hole, with dirt walls, protruding rocks sticking out from them. "Oh. Because I did. Anakin!?"

He sat up next to her. "Anakin! Finally!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He explained to her about how he'd interrupted her in the middle of a vision, how she'd called him Kanan, and how they'd fallen into one of the traps in the wrong hallway.

"Kanan," she said slowly, trying to ignore how unnerving it was that she'd done the equivalent of sleepwalking, but with a vision. Hopefully that wasn't going to become a thing. Probably it was just that Anakin trying to wake her up had only partially succeeded as a result of them being here where the dark side was so strong, she comforted herself. "I remember something about him. But..." she sifted through vague details in her memory, "Atollon! We have to go to Atollon. There's- I don't remember but it will help."

"That's great," Anakin said sincerely. "But right now we're stuck in a hole and I'm supposed to be at a meeting with the Chancellor and Obi-Wan is going to be wondering where I am."

"Ohhhhh. Yeah." She stood up.

She felt warily at the temple's darkness. Just like last time, it wove its map for her, but that didn't really help.

It was so omnipresent here, tangled and sticky like a spiderweb, strands curled around the walls, her hands...

Ladder, Ahsoka thought, grasping at the spiderwebs. But the darkness didn't obey thoughts. Think of Krell, think of the Kaminoans and what they did to my family, think of-

The thoughts lent the threads substance, something she could climb.

She was about a quarter of the way up, when Anakin called, "Um, Ahsoka?"

Oh. She'd...forgotten about him. How had she forgotten him? "I made us a ladder," she explained, a little guiltily. "Come on."

"What ladder?"

"Just feel where the darkness is and climb it," she explained.

"Ahsoka, I don't think I can. There's darkness everywhere, but--"

She shook her head. "It's like a spiderweb, here." The shadows pulled from and around her hands, ropes tugging her upward.

"Whatever you're seeing or feeling, I can't."

She looked down at him. The darkness seemed annoyed at her as she climbed back to the bottom. You don't need him. He got you into this mess in the first place.

She shook her head at the thought. She wasn't going to leave him here! "Hold my hand." She climbed again. Anakin tried to copy her, stepping into the air to no avail.

She closed her eyes, thinking. "I know. Use our Force-bond. Maybe if you can see it the way I can, it'll work."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course. I trust you."

Ahsoka felt him reach along their Force-bond to her presence, his eyes briefly looking through hers.

"Oh," said Anakin slowly. "I...wow. How do you do that?"

"I just do," she shrugged.

He climbed; she let him go first this time, so she'd have some hope of helping if something went wrong, trying her best not to think about the voice in her mind that had wanted to leave him.

After sprinting back to the Temple, they arrived to meet Obi-Wan, who gave the disheveled master and apprentice questioning looks, but said only:

"Well, you took your time. Come on, Anakin. The Chancellor is waiting."

"Good luck master," said Ahsoka. "I'll be...probably in the courtyard; I don't want to go to my quarters. I think I've had enough meditation for one day."

She said it nonchalantly, for Obi-Wan's sake, but Anakin could tell she was wary after what had happened in the dark side temple. At least they had a lead now, that they should go to Atollon.

He just hoped they found some help.

Chapter Text

Skywalker stayed behind after Kenobi's departure to talk, and stars did he have a wealth of information to offer.

Skywalker's worries were usually over the war, or his wife, but neither of them got so much as a mention. No, Skywalker talked about his padawan, how worried he was that the Jedi couldn't adequately teach her, that he couldn't adequately teach her.

There it was. In the end, it was about him; it was always about him. His fears for others, at their core, were fears he couldn't protect them, fears they'd abandon him, fears he wasn't enough. Anakin Skywalker was the most selfishly altruistic person you could find.

Ahsoka had a gift for perceiving the dark side. The Council would fear it, Anakin even feared it, a little.

Sidious, privately, was equally concerned. If this was so, if she was that attuned to the darkness, he was in danger of being discovered. He feigned sympathetic concern, but Anakin had barely left before he pulled out his comlink.

He was about to activate it, to tell Dooku she's too dangerous, kill her, she's become far too prevalent of an obstacle, even if Skywalker's Fall would benefit from keeping her around a little longer as an attachment to nurture his fear, we can't afford it--

Something made him pause. No, he was being paranoid. Too paranoid. The girl didn't have the trust of the Council, and even Skywalker had his doubts. If necessary, her immense power, particularly her visions could be put forth as reason to question her sanity. Even if she discovered him, she could still be just as much of a pawn, if not more of one. It would just have to be on his terms that she found out.

Sidious did activate his comlink, but it was not to Dooku that he spoke. Soon, very soon. The game was nearing its end. Victory was at hand.

Ahsoka spent the rest of the afternoon strolling around the Temple, delighting in being away from all that darkness.

As much as she found herself well able to navigate it, the dark side left her mentally exhausted. To sit in them sunlight in the gardens, surrounded by the quiet hum of life in the Force was rejuvenating after the way the Sith shrine echoed with death. Despite what she'd told Anakin, she actually did find herself meditating, albeit not a particularly in-depth session.

She hadn't quite realized how off she'd felt ever since she'd gotten back from Serenno. It was only now, when she felt properly herself that she was able to appreciate how wilted her spirit had felt.

Speaking of wilted spirits...

"You alright?"

Ahsoka wasn't the only one in the gardens. But Barriss didn't seem to be enjoying herself. She looked like Ahsoka was certain she herself had looked only hours ago; if Barriss' presence was visible like hers, Ahsoka was sure its glow would be just as stifled as hers had been after what had happened on Serenno.

They'd worked together on a couple of missions earlier on, but Ahsoka hadn't been able to see her, or anyone else for that matter, much in recent months. It was just a constant stream of missions. She'd liked the fellow padawan a lot though. She hoped they were still friends, even if it had been a while since they'd talked.

"Ahsoka!" she said brightly, before processing the question. "Yes. No. I don't know. I don't like that we're at war," she exhaled softly, tilting her head down toward the soil.

"No one likes it, Barriss." Lie. Ahsoka wasn't sure what Anakin would do without battles to occupy him. And some of the politicians certainly found it in their favor.

Barriss was well aware of this, ignoring the remark and continuing. "I'm not sure if that can coexist with what the Order is supposed to be. How can we be peacekeepers if we're fighting? If the people we're supposed to be taking care of are getting lost in that? The Temple doesn't feel as bright as it used to."

Ahsoka could definitely understand those sentiments. "The gardens are better." She gestured to the trees and flowers. "This makes more light than any of us ever could." She ran a hand through the grass. "If we didn't fight the Separatists, wouldn't they be worse? We don't torture people." It came out sounding more bitter than she'd meant it to, but the memory of Dooku's lightning was still all too fresh in her mind.

"Is that the bar by which we measure ourselves? Not formally torturing people? If that's our definition of good, Ahsoka, then we've truly lost our way."

"I understand how wrong that is," she agreed. "I think...it's okay not to let the Council tell you exactly what you're fighting for. If you see a better path, follow it. And guide those who follow you."

"I've led so many of them to their deaths, Ahsoka," Barriss whispered. "So many good soldiers..."

"Me too. That's why I have to make sure it wasn't for nothing."

"That's what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid that's what this war is. Who's war is it really? The Sith's. The one who started it."

Ahsoka nodded her head slowly. "But we can't let him win. What else are we supposed to do?"

"Exactly! Don't you think he knows that? That he's using that?" Her eyes held a wide 'I've been up all night thinking about this' look. "There are more ways of destroying an Order than simply defeating it in battle. If we lose our ideals...the Sith wins."

Ahsoka was positive that that was the truth, of the sort that left them both without words.

"Sorry," Barriss said at last.

"No, thanks for talking. It's good to know I'm not the only one who's afraid," Ahsoka replied. What would she say if she knew? About my darkness? Would she think I'm a traitor? Do I think I'm a traitor?

She gave a small smile and ambled back inside. Her footfalls were heavy, their vibration low and resonant in Ahsoka's montrals.

They left a faint uneasiness, but for now, she could quell it, full of peace and light as she felt, she was simply glad to have talked.

By Ahsoka's zealous greeting, it was evident that she was in much better spirits than she'd been. It made Anakin feel all the more guilty for what he had to say.

"The Council gave me an assignment," he said reluctantly.

"And here I thought you said today would be a quiet day!" she laughed.

There was a heaviness underneath, because they both knew it was increasingly becoming a reality that those quiet days were ever more a thing of the past.

"I know, you're technically on medical leave for two more days. But the healers said if you're feeling up to it...you could go with us."

Because there are never enough Jedi anymore, he didn't say, but Ahsoka knew that anyway. "What's the mission?"

"Apparently we picked up a distress call. But the frequency is one that hasn't been used in...2,000 years, I think Master Windu said? They want us to investigate."

Ahsoka frowned. "Sounds like it could be a trap."

A long, plaintive cry rang out through the air, and that same green convor glided to perch in one of the trees.

"The Council agrees. Rex is meeting us at the origin of the signal, for that very reason. If you don't think you can go, that's okay; Obi-Wan is coming, so-"

Ahsoka raised her eyebrows. "Oh I definitely should come then, with the talent you two have for trouble."

The convor hooted loudly, a foreboding sound.

Ahsoka frowned briefly before continuing, "When do we leave?"

The bird cried again. Don't, don't, don't, it seemed to be saying.

"Tomorrow morning. Ahsoka," he glanced at the convor, "I think it's saying you should stay here."

She narrowed her eyes a little, but didn't contradict him. "Why?" she asked.

"I don't know. I have a bad feeling about--"

"I'm coming. If something's dangerous, I should be there to help. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

She walked off to her quarters, her head held high in a way that he knew meant she wasn't going to change her mind.

"You're a bird, anyway. What do you know?" Anakin snapped. The words sounded hollow, even to him.

Ashla froze. "Coming here? With the Chosen One?"

Selfishly, she glowed inside with joy. But it was quickly quelled by fear. Ahsokah wouldn't be safe here! Not with Ashla's brother, who'd grown more desperate and angry than ever. And even Father... she could very well imagine him wanting her to stay here. And from what Morai had said, Ahsokah had a family of her own: the set of armored siblings, the Jedi. Asking her to abandon them would be cruel beyond measure.

That was never how this was supposed to go! The Chosen One was supposed to keep them in balance, not bring Ahsokah here of all places.

If Ashla had a heartbeat, it would be racing. She quickly volunteered to fetch the Chosen One when his ship landed, not that her brother wanted the job, anyway.

After that... she wasn't sure what she would do. Maybe the One would have ideas. She'd think of something. Somehow or other, she was going to make sure nothing hurt her daughter.

Chapter Text

"Rex. Rex, do you read me? We're at the rendezvous point awaiting your arrival. Where are you?" Anakin asked the hologram.

"Sir, we're at the rendezvous point and there's no sign of you on our scanners." Rex said doubtfully.

Anakin crossed his arms. "Oh, come on. That's impossible. Something's wrong. We're at the exact coordinates where the distress signal originated, but there's nothing here. Rex is at the exact same coordinates, and he's not here."

Ahsoka reached out, searching for Rex's presence. She could feel it, which meant he wasn't anywhere far away, but he didn't have the sense of actually being anywhere. It was like he suddenly didn't exist anywhere outside of her head.

"This is getting interesting," Obi-Wan responded, calm as ever. He couldn't feel Rex's weirdly distant but vivid presence, though!

The hologram flickered. "Unable to-- Where are--?"

"Something's blocking the signal!" Dammit, where are you, Rex?

The ship's hum suddenly ceased altogether, dead silence pressing against her montrals. "Not good." Anakin muttered, tapping at the unresponsive controls.

Everything's dead. Even the life support." Ahsoka said, still more worried about Rex than them, but if they didn't have life support, that was bad.

"This is really strange."

The ship hummed back to life, just as suddenly as it had stopped.

"There. See? Nothing to be concerned about after all." Obi-Wan said.

Right...except--

She looked up out the viewport and almost actually panicked. "Then what's that?"

An enormous pair of opposite facing pyramids opened in front of them, white light spilling out from between them. Things appearing out of nowhere was...usually bad. Worse still, the ship began to move forward, though Anakin hadn't touched the controls.

"It's pulling us towards it!"

"Everyone, strap yourselves in. Looks as though we're going for a ride." Obi-Wan said, still so calm, Ahsoka noted irritably before the white light flared brightly, blinding...

Anakin blinked. It took him a moment to remember what had happened; he had the distinct sensation of having woken up from some sort of dream, though he had no idea what it had been about. "I must have blacked out."

"Then who landed the shuttle?" Obi-Wan asked, stretching.

"Not me." Ahsoka said, frowning.

"Well, I always said I could land a ship in my sleep," he dismissed. "Where are we?" Anakin wondered. 

"Some kind of organic mass. All of our readings indicate that it's bigger than an asteroid. But at least the atmosphere is breathable." Ahsoka read from the computer.

"Well, this is getting more unusual by the minute. I can't even lock down where in the galaxy we are, or if we are even in our own galaxy." Obi-Wan said after fidgeting with the navigation for a moment.

Anakin sighed. "Well, the ship's systems seem fine, but for whatever reason, nothing's working."

They walked out of the shuttle and Anakin's breath caught in his throat. The planet was breathtaking, green hills in golden sunlight.

And, looking like she was simply a part of the whole landscape, stood a-- not a Human, a being, with green eyes, golden brown skin, and leafy green hair woven with vines trailing behind her. She wore a light green and cream-colored gown that only accentuated whole impression she had that she was glowing.

"Ahsoka?" she said, almost inaudibly.

Ahsoka's eyes widened. "Mother?"

It's a vision, but there's nothing remotely dark about it.

She's surrounded by light and warmth and...

Love. There's something so joyous about feeling this much of it from the light, (after everything the Order warns about love) familiar and singing.

Something in her sings back.

"Mother?"

The green in her eyes was bright. "You know me," she said in delighted wonderment.

How do I know her? There was something utterly recognizable about a person whose love had brought her to this moment. She would recognize the same thing from Anakin, or Rex, different because they were different people, but love. Hers was older though, Ahsoka traced it in her mind, finding a path back to the presences in the little wooden bird the convor had left her. Her mama and papa on Shili had both held it, she now realized. Then...this being.

The first three people to ever love her. "You were a family. You and...my mama and papa."

She nodded.

"What happened?" Ahsoka asked softly.

"They didn't want to-- couldn't-- raise a child here, cut off from the rest of the galaxy. But I can't leave. I'm the guardian of the light, Ashla, as my brother is the darkness. Our father keeps balance between us. And we must stay here, where that balance can be kept." Force, Ahsoka had heard that much sorrow from very few people. She's light, but I sense so much emotion from her. Abruptly it shifted to fear. "Ahsokah, this planet isn't safe for you. My brother seeks to control all power, whether it belongs to him directly, or to someone else."

"Then why pull our shuttle to your planet?" Obi-Wan demanded.

"That was not my doing. Father summoned the Chosen One here. I tried to warn you, but...Morai's ability as a messenger is kind of hindered by the fact that she can't talk."

"Morai?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Her covnor," Anakin guessed.

"Yes, Morai is...she is not me, per se, but her spirit mirrors mine. She's the only means by which I can influence the temporal world directly. But," she said quickly, "you are here now, and I must bring you to Father's monastery. My brother can do little harm there, at least."

She led the way up a path that wound along one of the cliffs, above a ravine. Anakin caught Ahsoka's hand, slowing his pace, so they fell behind Obi-Wan. "Don't take this the wrong way," he said quietly, "but I don't trust this Ashla."

"I felt her presence."

"Presences can lie."

"Love is hard to fake. I know--" she added quickly, "it's easy to display other emotions and pretend they come from love. But what I felt from her--"

"Ahsoka, your mother was Alina Tano, a Togruta on Shili--"

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"This isn't her."

"I noticed."

Anakin fidgeted with his comlink. "How is she your mother?"

She crossed her arms, letting her montrals glow brightly enough to be noticeable even in the bright daylight.

Anakin sighed. "Ahsoka--"

"Look, this doesn't make sense to me either, okay? I'm trying to process it, and part of me really wishes I was just. Back at the Temple, not having an existential crisis about having three parents. But I trust the Force, and my feelings. And Anakin, she probably knows why my presence does this," she gestured at her glowing head-tails, "and she might even be able to help me with my Sight. So yes, I'm going to trust her until I have a reason not to."

Anakin nodded, squeezing her hand. "And I'm going to be here for you, like I always am. But right now, that means," he sighed, "I'm being extra careful about who to trust."

He had a point. Anakin loves me too. And I know him, even if he's annoyingly...Anakin sometimes. "You're right. Someone has to," she agreed. "I guess all I was saying is that someone can't be me right now."

"Anything either of you want to tell me?" Obi-Wan said from in front of them.

Ahsoka felt a sudden sorrow. They'd been keeping a lot from him recently; he was probably even more confused about this whole thing than Anakin and her combined.

"Nope, actually," said Anakin irritably.

Ahsoka frowned, reminding herself to remind Anakin that as much as she appreciated his caution with trusting people, it wasn't justified with Obi-Wan.

For now though...she had enough problems without adding Anakin's friendship with his master to the list.

Chapter Text

Ashla paused, frowning.

"Please don't tell me you're lost," the Chosen One groaned.

"I am not 'lost', as you say. It does not work that way." Mortis was a fickle planet; nothing was in any definitive location, but whether walking or simply transporting themselves at will the same principle applied to its inhabitants: you could get anywhere by willing yourself to be there. Now though, Ashla could not for the life of her bring them to the monastery.

She reached out, expecting this to be some trick of her brother's, but--

"Father. Wants us elsewhere," she said doubtfully.

"What do you mean he wants us elsewhere?"

"I am not yet certain." It didn't bode well, especially when she realized where they were going. The Altar.

Why would Father bring us there? The dagger is dangerous. Though, the location housed other things, she knew. The Dagger was simply the only one she was specifically aware of.

"Why have you brought us here, Father?" Ashla asked sharply.

Ahsokah let go of her master's hand. "This is some kind of test. Isn't it."

The Father's blue eyes met hers. "Your insight serves you well, young one."

Indeed. She seemed quite certain, just as she'd known that Ashla was her mother.

She raised her eyebrows. "What am I supposed to do? Or were you planning to say something about me being your long-lost granddaughter and you being glad to see me, first?"

The ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I am glad to see you, granddaughter. Only sorry for what I am asking of you."

"Which is?"

"Go in," he said, "and bring me what you find there."

"No, Anakin, don't, it's fine," Ahsoka said as he reached for his lightsaber.

"Father, what is the meaning of this?" Ashla demanded.

He closed his eyes. "We shall see."

The altar burned with turquoise flames that emitted neither warmth nor cold. She swept her hand through one, feeling nothing.

Ahsoka trailed her hand along the wall, feeling the presence of the place for hints, but it seemed quite unsettled.

Don't be afraid, Ahsoka.

Trust the Force, she reminded herself. It will guide me.

She walked slowly down the steps. It would agonize Anakin, she thought, but his presence felt very far away here, and anyway, it felt wrong to walk too quickly.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking around the room. There was little else defining about it, save for etchings on the wall. She could not read them, but their were drawings too: a convor. A snake. A wolf.

Whatever she was going to find was atop the pillar in the center of the room, she decided, walking towards it more purposefully.

She stared.

She didn't blink, but she didn't see the two objects materialize there. Only, suddenly saw that they were there.

Bring me what you find there. 

A candle and a chalice.

Force, her vision on Tython! It had come true. Not that that helped much; it hadn't been a particularly lengthy one. Just the candle and the chalice.

She wrapped a hand around the candle in its silver holder. It seemed to be real silver; it was quite heavy. She reached for the chalice.

A burning pain shot through her hands. She tore them away, crying out softly, more in surprise than anything else. Ahsoka was no stranger to pain.

Experimentally she touched the chalice. It was cool stone.

She felt the candle again with similar result. The metal was cool, not having seen the light of day in...centuries, something told her.

She went to pick them both up and again her palms burned, forcing her to let go.

Choose, the Force whispered.

Which one should she bring? What even was the test? What was she trying to choose, which of the two was a better gift? Which one she preferred? As far as unnecessarily ornate ancient pieces of decor were concerned, she was pretty noncommital.

"I don't understand."

Exactly like in her vision. Which one had she reached for again? The candle. Had that been a warning? Or was she supposed to take the candle? She let out a sigh of frustration.

Usually her visions were bad; Rex trying to kill her, herself joining Ventress. But no, the Jedi padawan hadn't been malignant in any way as far as she could tell. Maybe that was better phrased as her visions about herself were usually warnings, not encouragements.

She reached for the chalice.

There was water in it. Huh.

She reached out with the Force, trying to sense what she could about the objects.

The candle she sensed little of. The chalice had a vague snaking history she couldn't read in depth.

The candle was...it was new. No one had ever held it before. There was no darkness or light about it yet. The chalice had both, powerfully.

The Father would send her down here to fetch a powerful artifact, surely that made more sense?

Unless he was hoping she wouldn't. That she didn't want power.

She reached for both again, trying to fight the burning to no avail.

She bit her lip. I'm overthinking this all.

Bring me what you find there.

She picked up the candle, a little reluctantly. She squeezed her eyes shut, putting it down. The chalice had water in it. She reached for it slowly, lifting it to peer into it. Drink from the chalice and bring him the candle?

It was sort of appealing. An answer to her indecision. But...

But.

She put the object down for the last time, grabbed the candle and ran up the stairs before she could change her mind.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka couldn't, for the life of her, sleep.

t wasn't even the Father's test that was nagging at her; that had been hours ago. She hadn't got a straight answer from him, but away from the altar it was much easer to be certain she'd made the right decision. You do not have to share our destiny, was the only answer she'd gotten.

She'd remembered Ashla couldn't leave and had shivered. But she didn't like dwelling on what-if scenarios. I'm not a prisoner here, and that had been pretty comforting.

Nighttime in the Father's monastery, on the other hand, was a waking nightmare. The whole place was still and ashen and, she was beginning to suspect, dying. The quiet was pervasive; Ahsoka felt she dared not close her eyes to sleep for fear of there being nothing, absolutely nothing to wake her: fear that she'd become so caught up in the quiet her mind would see no reason to. Simultaneously, it was suffocating, it made the simple act of breathing feel akin to shouting in the middle of a room full of meditating Jedi, nevermind actually walking, and making footsteps sound on the stone floor.

The shadows crawled like spindly spiders across the walls.

Ahsoka's Sight was problematic in plenty of other ways, but it usually didn't keep her awake. In fact, she often lulled herself to sleep watching the Force, but it was not so here. The place had a terrible, terrible emptiness, like parched soil, a nearly empty well. She wondered if it was keeping anyone else awake.

She closed her eyes. Maybe she could meditate instead.

The awareness of Anakin and Obi-Wan's presences helped (they definitely both felt asleep), except the Father's presence mirrored the monastery's, unsettlingly old and very weary. She turned her attention elsewhere, but the Force itself was loud in her head now, with its many many voices, overlapping and pulling at her.

I swear the emptiness is talking.

Disregarding the feeling of wrongness about disturbing the stillness as she decided this was worse, Ahsoka stepped out of her room. Making sure to shield her presence, including dimming its glow around her to almost nonexistence, she set off down the hall. It would be a little bit taxing, to keep herself from glowing, but it felt safer. 

The stone was so old its surface was all but dust when she touched it. The doorway at the hall's end was a relief, the cool air a welcome reprieve from the stillness that didn't feel like anything as she stepped outside, finding herself atop a long set of hundreds of stone steps that descended from the doorway; the monastery sat high above any nearby terrain.

It was storming, rain falling from the sky, cold but in a way that made her feel glowing warm by contrast. The landscape was astonishingly different, dark and lifeless, with glowing blue ghosts of trees. And lightning of the same color. She stepped tentatively down the set of stairs, taking it all in, trying to decide how she felt about it.

"I wondered if you might like to be outside."

Ahsoka startled, whirling around. Ashla was standing behind her, atop the steps.

"You were spying on me," Ahsoka accused.

She shook her head. "I was waiting for you."

"Oh." It sounded true, but then again everything she said did. Either her mother was a very good liar, or she was very honest.

I hate when the two likely possibilities are complete opposites, Ahsoka thought to herself.

"Has the dark side always called to you?" Her tone was perfectly conversational, as if she was asking if she'd always used two lightsabers.

Ahsoka hesitated. "I had a different master before Anakin. He was a Fallen Jedi, and he--" she stared at the floor. "He." Come on, Ahsoka, you haven't had a hard time getting your sentences out in months! 

Ashla regarded her seriously. "It's alright if you don't wish to talk about it."

"I do!" She shook her head furiously. "My voice just," she felt her cheeks darken. "It doesn't let me." Deep breath. "He made me use the dark side, and now it won't stop sending me visions. A," she took a deep breath. "A Je'daii. Her holocron, anyway. Told me I'm a Seer."

See? How hard was that? 

Very, Ahsoka answered herself ruefully. She registered several emotions on her mother's face. Her mother. It was still odd to think of her that way.

Anger. Concern. Uncertainty. "Are you alright now?"

"Except for the 'being a Seer' part. Anakin's a good master, he's been--"

"Henceforth, you will be known as...Darth Vader," laughed the Sith and the figure kneeling before him--

"From my point of view, the Jedi are evil!"

For hurting Ahsoka.

For imperiling Padme.

For never seeing his potential--

The dark figure stood before her, crimson saber drawn, a crack in his mask.

The eye looking out at her was Anakin's.

Chapter Text

The temple on Malachor collapsed, and she was pulled away surely by the Force itself to die--

"Ahsoka? Ahsoka, are you alright?"

Ahsoka opened her eyes, blinking in the bright daylight. At least she was outside, maybe Ashla had told him how unsettling she'd found the monastery, or maybe he just hadn't bothered moving her--

Him. The master who was going to try to kill Obi-Wan, and her, to become the Sith monster in her visions. He sat beside her now, hand reaching out; a low growl escaped her and she bared her teeth, getting to her feet and stepping backward.

"Ahsoka?" he asked softly, eyes full of concern. Concern-- Concern!? And hurt; he'd seen the display of her (quite sharp) teeth, directed at Ventress or the occasional bounty hunter. Part of her ached along with him: He hasn't done anything yet. He's a good person--

But Darth Vader had haunted her visions for months. And that was him, his future.

"Ahsoka," he said. "Whatever you saw-- We're not going to let you fall. It's going to be alright. You're--"

Her? Her!? Right, she had been worried about Falling, hadn't she?

But she wasn't the one who would kneel before a shadowed Sith, she wouldn't duel her former padawan, wouldn't-- I'm not keeping him awake with nightmares he's helpless to stop!

No. Breathe. Not helpless. What can I do about this?

I can't look into those blue eyes I just saw gold, I can't-- I can't stand here, I can't do anything, I can't remember ever feeling this numb and in pain all at once. I can'tlookatyoulikethisisn'tgoingtohappen--butit'sinthefuture--buitisn'titisn't I swear I'm not crazy would I know if I was is this what Rhea meant? Nonono itcan't be I know I'm here but here is a terrible terrible place.

Anakin realized what she was about to do before she did. "Ahsoka, don't--"

The plea was appealing to reason, but that was a futile effort. There was no reason. It wasn't premeditated. She just ran.

It was a relief: no thinking, just her legs methodically, automatically propelling her away, as if from an akul. Ahsoka ran until she couldn't anymore, because running was her only respite from thought. But eventually her legs refused to continue. Ahsoka sat, hands curled around her knees, and tried to cry, but she couldn't even do that.

All she felt inside was empty, lonely sorrow. Even tears wouldn't keep her company. She felt as though she might just become a statue here, and that emptiness inside her--

It reminded her of something. Or rather somewhere. And some...one?

Obi-Wan paced back and forth along one of the stone paths near the monastery. Ahsoka and Anakin were off...somewhere. Doing something. He'd felt lately that the two were quite distant, some thing he deeply lamented. While he in no way felt she owed him anything, Obi-Wan had felt deeply honored that he was the one she'd trusted enough to confide in about Krell, and he'd tried to keep that trust. And Anakin...well a decade of mentoring him...this silence didn't sit well.

And now Ahsoka had met her family and he hadn't had a chance to even exchange words with her about it. Was she overwhelmed? No one had said anything about them leaving, really, and no shuttle, but Obi-Wan didn't think they were prisoners either. It was a strange little paradox, and possibly quite unsettling.

"Could we go home now? If we wanted?" he asked. He didn't like his own meditation interrupted, but right now--

Ashla opened her eyes. "I believe you and the Force will know when the time is right."

"You mean Anakin and Ahsoka. I don't know anything," he quipped.

Unlike everyone else on the receiving end of his sarcasm, however, she caught the concern beneath it. "It must be difficult. Both of them in some capacity are at home here."

"And I'm not," he agreed.

"Skywalker, if Father is right, is the Chosen One. And Ahsokah," Ashla smiled. "Well--"

"She's your daughter."

She nodded. "Yes."

"Is there anything I should know? About her I mean?" He didn't trust Anakin to ask.

"I don't know," she admitted. "If it turns out she can change her form, definitely come back here, because that will be a small nightmare for the Order."

"That's good to know," Obi-Wan said, restraining himself from crying out 'you're shapeshifters too!?'

"And Force-suppressants are potentially lethal to her. She shouldn't shield all the time, her presence is growing, so she needs to draw Force-energy from her surroundings every so often, or she should at least."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Force-presences don't--"

"Grow? My stars, I'm glad we're having this conversation."

"So. Anything else?" Obi-Wan asked, feeling like his head was going to explode at the idea of Ahsoka having more of a presence than she already did.

Ashla folded her hands. "I don't know her as well as I'd like to, but...one of the only things my brother, father and I have in common is that we're very stubborn. Once a Force-wielder decides something..." she trailed off. "Like the clone commander? He's her family, you can forget lecturing her about the Jedi Code. I'm not saying she needs to get what she wants all the time. But I am saying you should be mindful. Maybe...more so than you are with the Chosen One," she added softly. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty."

"No," he acknowledged softly. But that would be hard to tell Anakin. Talking about things wasn't his forte, and he was the one who was Ahsoka's master.

So why am I the one having this conversation?

Despite the warm air, Obi-Wan shivered.

Anakin sat on the ground, head in his hands, not knowing what else to do. Why, Ahsoka? What did I do wrong?

"You've failed her."

He looked up, reaching for his lightsaber. The being looked like a Pau'an, at least as much as the other two members of his family looked Human. That was to say, he did also have glowing red eyes, and he was missing the ridges Pau'ans usually had on their faces; his reminded Anakin of a skull and had blood red markings as well. Not that Anakin cared. "What did you say?" he demanded. 

"You've failed her. You didn't find her a teacher and now you've lost her. If anyone had taught her," he said scathingly, "she wouldn't blame you for something you haven't done yet."

"Something I haven't...done yet?"

"She has Seen that you will betray her and everyone she loves; what do you expect?"

Anakin shook his head. "No. No, I wouldn't--"

"What was she running from, then? The Sith she's seen you become!"

"No!" Anakin cried. "I won't. I promise you, I won't!" He closed his eyes, resolution crystalizing inside him, along with the visions he saw. Whatever the Son wanted, he wouldn't get it, Anakin thought, filled with a deep certainty of what he needed to do. To keep her safe. To keep the galaxy safe.

He spent a lot of his time sitting with his eyes closed. It troubled his daughter, he knew, and no doubt his granddaughter as well, not his 'death' in its finality, but the way he was 'dying'.

Still, he was not dead yet, be that a blessing or curse. He opened his eyes when he felt Ahsokah's approaching presence.

"I think I understand now. Why this place feels so terrible. You're sad," Ahsokah said softly. "Except it's not the kind of sad where you can even cry, it's just quiet."

Perhaps. That was the problem with immortality. They felt until they forgot there was anything else. For his son, that had been anger. For him...

"I didn't mean to bother you. I just...I don't know, talking is good. I'm not very good at it."

"Is there something you would like to talk about?" he asked.

She crossed her arms, as if embracing herself in a protective hug. "If you're immortal...I don't understand how you can be dying." She winced. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have--"

"I do not resent the fact that I am dying," he assured her. "Or that you wish to know what, exactly, we are. Unfortunately, we ourselves know very little, and of that we have forgotten much."

"Oh," she said softly.

"I am sorry. I should have more knowledge to offer my granddaughter."

"No, it...I don't think I'd be ready to hear most of it if you did," she laughed quietly. "I tend to learn things and then wish I hadn't. I'm...sorry you're so sad, though."

"I think I had stopped noticing," he admitted. "Loss is...very difficult for us."

"I can imagine. Or I mean, I can't. Sometimes I'm lonely and-- well I'm in a Temple full of Jedi. Can I ask who you lost?"

The Father hesitated. "I think that--" he sighed. "As you said, you would learn and wish you hadn't."

She bit her lip. "I'll take your word for it then, I guess. There is something else I'd like to ask, though."

She leapt down the steps to greet Anakin, wanting to apologize, and to tell him she had a teacher, to explain everything to him, but-- she froze.

There was something very very wrong. "Master," she said in horror.

"I'm sorry Ahsoka. I'm sorry for everything. It's going to be alright now."

"Wh-what did you do?" she whispered, already knowing the answer, but refusing to believe it. He hadn't. He wouldn't.

"I've made sure I can't become a Sith apprentice. I've cut myself off from the Force."

You didn't. No, no no, please tell me you didn't! The concept itself was horrific, maybe The Only Thing Every Group of Force-users Agreed On. To deny the Force, Jedi and Sith alike had declared, was to deny the self. Ahsoka shook, tried and failed to speak, closing her eyes and trying to understand.

But contemplation only made it worse. He couldn't be a Sith apprentice, but he couldn't be her master either, couldn't even be a Jedi. 

"It's for the best, Ahsoka," he pleaded. "I can't hurt you, I can't hurt Padme--"

But you have hurt me, master. This is worse than any vision because it's NOT A VISION!!!

Maybe it is, she thought desperately. She couldn't make herself say anything, again, why couldn't she ever say anything when she needed to?

Another pair of footsteps thundered down the steps behind her. "Anakin," cried Obi-Wan. "Anakin, I felt our bond--" His eyes widened in horror. "Why?" Calm, serene Obi-Wan was choking on his words.

"I'm sorry. You wouldn't understand, master."

And finally, finally, Ahsoka could cry.

Chapter Text

The second she let go of Anakin, she knew something was wrong.

Anakin's mouth hung open slightly, a soft sound escaped Obi-Wan and the intensity of his gaze brought uncomfortable warmth to her face. Her face. That was what they were staring at. She reached up, running a hand alongside her nose, feeling a dot of something warm and slightly sticky, and more substantial than water. Blood? She wondered for a fraction of a second before she pulled her hand away--

It's silver. Heavy and resonant and metallic, a tiny pool on her fingertip.

Her brain finally caught up, recognizing, It's a teardrop, and several painful moments later in which she didn't think she breathed, Oh, it's my teardrop.

"I." Not the start of a sentence, but a stuck and confused sound, an expression of half-formed thoughts that wouldn't move. Still, but not in a peaceful way. She exhaled, and the breath had hands and held on inside her, shuddering and not wanting to come out, and leaving a bitter taste at the back of her throat. It all pulled inward, dizzying, the air and blood and words and thought all lodged in her chest in a knot-- held there because they all lived inside her where her tears did and my tears are silver, is the universe prepared for anything else that might come out of me? Am I?

She breathed out again, closing her eyes. She didn't feel anything there, against her eyelids or her lashes. But she felt herself glowing brightly, getting the distinct feeling she was burning inside.

"It's alright. It's okay." Ashla put a hand on her shoulder, and, seeing an opportunity to hide her face, Ahsoka wrapped her arms around her mother and hugged her tightly. "You're upset. All that Force energy wants an outlet, that's all."

"Force energy?"

She nodded, her voice soothing. "I think you understand that your presence is more closely linked to your corporeal form than other beings'." Ahsoka nodded. 'More corporeal than it should be' was how the Healers had chosen to phrase it, but whatever. Ashla continued, "It would seem that it becomes more so when you experience strong emotions."

That, coupled with how abysmal she was at shielding was probably bad.

"You just need to find controlled ways of channeling that energy," Ashla assured her. So you're not a walking detonator, went unsaid, but she could feel it in her master's gaze.

"We'll work on it," Obi-Wan said. We. Like he was her master instead of Anakin, who said nothing. Who was just...staring at her.

"Master?" she asked tentatively. No getting upset. Calm.

"Ahsoka." There was a tension in his voice. He was staring at her like she was suddenly a stranger to him. Had she done something wrong? Was he angry with her? Her palms itched with sudden burning, and she clasped them together. Breathe in-- two, three, four five, six, seven, eight. Out-- two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. I'm calm. See?

They were still staring. "I'm fine now," she said firmly. "We'll work on it." He hadn't meant what Ashla had said, she realized. He'd meant her not getting upset in the first place. Controlling emotions was against the Jedi Code. Her silver tears, the literal light of her Force presence were ironically blasphemous. Let alone her Sight, but she wasn't even going to go there right now.

Wasn't that how she'd healed Rex? Not being calm? That had been a channeling of all the Force energy radiating from her presence. Okay, she hadn't been controlling it, exactly, but didn't the fact that she'd done it by accident mean she could?

Something told her the Council wouldn't see it that way. The Council. What was she going to do, with a master other than Anakin? Who wasn't like her, didn't understand any of it--

Did Anakin even understand anymore? Or was that all lost to her now?

"You have interfered in the path of the Chosen One," the Father declared. His Son scowled.

"Perhaps I didn't want him to replace you."

"Whether he would have or not, now we shall never know. You must not give in to your anger completely, my Son. All is as the Force wills it. Without balance, we are all diminished."

He could feel some of the anger quelled as the Son's thoughts turned to Ashla. For he did love her; even he understood intuitively that he was less without her.

"I believe," the Father continued, "there is a way in which you may redeem yourself."

His expression returned to bitterness.

"I believe you will find the task an agreeable one."

He sighed. "What would you have me do?"

Ahsoka eyed the Son warily. His appearance was certainly the most imposing of the three Force-wielders. The glowing red eyes were alarming on their own, but he was also noticeably taller even than Ashla, who wasn't lacking in height herself, and the echos to his voice were easily more disquieting than the resonance of her mother and grandfather.

"Do you have a name?" she asked softly. It was a bit uncomfortable still to think of the other two in relationship to herself; she was not ready to acknowledge him in that way.

"Names are a mortal construct. I am above such a thing," he said icily. "I need no title; I know when I am being addressed."

She shrugged, indifferent. "Fine then."

For some reason, his scowl only deepened at this. "Can you have a vision, any vision, on purpose?" he asked.

"Well I'm usually trying to do the opposite," she said. "So no, not that I know of."

"I cannot believe Father is making me do this," he muttered, as if his father wasn't in the room, overseeing the whole endeavor. "Try."

She frowned, hesitating. Not really because she wasn't going to, she was just dreading it. She definitely didn't trust the Son, but she didn't think the Father would let him endanger her.

"You will not become lost. I will awaken you. Now. Try. I need to know how you attempt to connect to the dark side.

Ahsoka closed her eyes, not thrilled at his apparent impatience, but, then, what had she been expecting? For the embodiment of darkness to be nice to her?

She thought about Krell. It was the easiest way to make herself upset. She reached out with that feeling, trying to connect it to the Force and waiting.

"No. No! The anger isn't an offering! You aren't placing a sacrifice on an altar! You are trying to wield the Force!" he cried.

She blinked. Wait, what? "I don't understand."

"Oh stars, she doesn't understand," he muttered to himself.

The Father stood. "Yes, explain it differently."

"There's nothing to explain! It's the Force!"

Something told her it was going to be a very long day.

Chapter Text

"She's so much like Father," the Son said bitterly. "No wonder he's letting her leave."

Ashla frowned. "How exactly is she like Father?"

"She's--" he closed his eyes. "She understands nothing. Like all Jedi, she speaks of balance but favors the light."

"I hardly think Ahsoka favors either. She seldom imposes her will on the Force at all, I've gathered. Usually, she is merely observing it," she noted.

"When she learns to use her Sight, she will only cement the Jedi's rule over the galaxy, and, as Father does, claim that her use of the dark side makes her balanced in doing so!"

Ashla blinked at him. "Brother, I think you are imagining what you would do with your Sight if your allegiance was to the Jedi Order." Her green eyes flickered with slight amusement. "I doubt my daughter is interested in enforcing anyone's rule over the galaxy."

He scowled. "You look at her and see only yourself-- but she is not you. I see no reason to trust her with my knowledge--"

Obi-Wan had to restrain a sound of dismay, not liking what he was hearing at all. Ashla was making Ahsoka sound like...not a Jedi. As for the Son, Obi-Wan had no idea what he was talking about, but it hinted at him teaching her to use the dark side? Uneasy, he turned away from the conversation he'd stumbled upon. He'd already lost his padawan-- and he was sure there had been something more to it than Anakin just deciding to abandon the Jedi path. He wasn't going to quietly wonder any more. He was going to find out exactly what was wrong this time, before it was too late.

Ahsoka closed her eyes.

A purpose. To anchor me in the present.

Simply wanting to know something wasn't enough, the Son had explained to her. It didn't connect back to the present; she'd become lost.

"I want to know who the Sith Lord is," she'd told him.

But the dark side was focused on action, not passively knowing. "Why do you want to know?"

She'd hesitated. She could think about wanting whoever had caused and would cause so much suffering dead, but she didn't want to go there. She set her attention on the outcome of defeating Darth SIdious, not on the defeat in and of itself. "So Anakin can be a Jedi again."

He'd narrowed his eyes in disapproval; she didn't think he liked Anakin, much. But then, he didn't like her either. He wasn't there to have opinions, the Father was adamant. He was there to teach her. The Father would have done that himself, but, he'd explained when Ahsoka had asked him why, he wasn't exactly a Seer. The Force offered him visions, and he was more than capable of wielding both the light and dark side. "But unlike you, the dark side obeys me because it has to."

She didn't understand what he meant. She didn't know if she wanted to. Her being a Seer was an unhappy accident. Beyond that--

She dismissed the thought, turning her attention back toward her practice. She probably wouldn't be able to See the Sith Lord's identity, he'd warned her. The Sith Lord would have powerful enough influence over the dark side that it would almost certainly be impossible to discern. But the meditation, and the attempt to, with a goal in mind, would discourage irrelevant visions at inopportune moments.

She gathered up her sorrow at losing her master. As it turned out, the whole way she'd been doing that part had been making her problem worse: offering up emotions and then trying to See as if her feelings were a bargaining chip. Apparently, that wasn't how using the dark side was supposed to work, at all. Emotions did technically strengthen it, but you didn't directly give them to the Force as she'd been trying to do. They were for strengthening focus and resolve, which in turn strengthened the Force. The way she had been doing it had been creating undirected dark side energy that had been part of the cause of her unwanted visions.

Still, she did allow herself to simply observe for a moment before trying to do anything specific. The darkness on Mortis was different than Coruscant. It wasn't overtly hostile, or reluctant to obey her, but its loyalty was all to the Son. The Father's presence she felt too, but it was different. He held the dark side rather than it wrapping around his presence, and there was no echoing of his will in its. That was what he had meant, maybe, about why he was not a Seer.

Reaching out farther, she searched, focus on missing Anakin, on wanting him to feel safe enough to come back. To be a Jedi and finish her training.

There was another imposing presence, distant, but within her awareness. Sharp and calculated and cruel.

The Sith, she thought. She couldn't sense the person to whom it belonged, or even a sense of where he was, but she might learn something. She studied it. The darkness emanating from it made it hard to place in the context of the dark side as a whole, but- She mentally revisited the comparison of the Father's presence to the Son's. The way the Father held it in hand like a sword, proud and true and controlled, but also limited. Or the sphere of endless influence radiating out from the Son's presence like the gravity of a black hole.

And the Sith's was the same.

She should have known, what it would take for one Sith to overthrow the Order as she had foreseen. She studied the presence, and abruptly she felt it regard her as well, aware of her gaze and gazing back. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped.

"Ahsoka?"

She ignored the voice for a moment, catching her breath. She'd seen enough. The Sith was a Seer. But now he knew the same of her, if he hadn't already.

She'd been, she realized, playing an absent-minded game of chess with the universe, this past year. But only now was she properly aware of it. The rules. And the stakes, so impossibly high--

"Ahsoka!" Obi-Wan said sharply. She looked up at him and found his eyes full of worry.

"Master?"

"Are you alright?" he studied her anxiously.

"I'm okay." What is this about?

"Ahsoka, the Daughter and Son spoke of you using the dark side."

She froze. "O-oh?"

"Padawan," he said gently. "Have they made you feel obligated to break the Code??"

She stared at him blankly, open-mouthed. "Wh--" And then it hit her. He thought she'd been manipulated or--

Because he doesn't believe I would do that. And he remembers Krell just as well as I do.

"That's not-- I-- I..."

He seemed to take that as an answer, his expression hardening. "We're going back to Coruscant."

Leaving? Now? But-- her mother. And her lessons. And when they got back to the Temple Anakin would be expelled from the Order!

Say something! "They- they're my family, they were trying to-- to help."

He hugged her tightly as her eyes filled with tears. "It's alright Ahsoka. They can still be your family without you following their view of the Force."

No! That wasn't what she-- "They're wrong? About the dark side?" she whispered. Because she needed to know if that was really what he thought, about her Sight.

"Oh, Ahsoka. Their philosophy, however well-meant is...misguided. And dangerous. It's okay. We're going home now."

She shook her head. "But--" This is what I was afraid of. "No! No, I'm not ready to leave. I just met my mother--"

His expression was full of sympathy. "You're a Jedi. Ahsoka, I know this is hard to hear, but I've been worried ever since we arrived here. The Order forbids attachments. You're going to have to let go, and staying here longer...it's not going to make it easier."

He wasn't wrong. She bit her lip. "Then maybe I'm not a Jedi."

He winced. She couldn't be angry, not really, when this was so obviously hard for him. "I know what Anakin did hasn't been easy for you. I know you're grieving him." He squeezed her hand. "We're leaving tomorrow morning. I can't force you to come, but... Our mission is complete. It's past time to return. That's my final decision."

She stared after him as he left, tears blurring her vision.

I'm trying to help you, his presence sang to her, but it made her want to cover her ears and scream.

Chapter Text

"Obi-Wan."

He turned around, searching for the person speaking. It was such a familiar voice...

"Obi-Wan."

He turned in a slow circle, a gleam of blue catching his eyes and--

"Master?" he asked in wonderment. Before him was the figure of Qui-Gon Jinn, translucent like a hologram, but his presence in the Force unmistakably real. "How are you here?"

"I am here because you are here."

Obi-Wan's heart sank. "I don't understand." You died. You're one with the Force now. "I don't even know where here is. I've failed Anakin. And Ahsoka..."

"Anakin has taken a different path then we had hoped," he agreed. "Much in the Force has changed as a result. Including her."

"You mean she can't help it?" he asked in horror. "She's going to Fall, because the Force...wants her to?"

Qui-Gon frowned deeply. "Nothing is certain, Obi-Wan. Especially surrounding her." He got the sudden sense his master could only say so much. That there was more, so much more, out of Obi-Wan's reach. Again. Just like with Anakin, and Ahsoka.

"What do I do?" he implored. Please, tell me what to do.

"Listen to the Force, my padawan. And to yourself." He vanished into the night sky dotted with the faintest stars.

Ahsoka stared listlessly at her reflection. She could actually See the darkness in her own presence, the flickers of shadow punctuating the glow around her. "I'm a monster."

He's right. I just believed my family's philosophy because that was what I wanted to hear. But really, what good person can't not use the dark side? 

"We are?"

She jumped backward, startled. Her own voice echoed in her montrals, but she definitely hadn't spoken. Her reflection wasn't a reflection, it was looking back at her sadly. "What are you?" Ahsoka asked nervously.

"I don't exactly know," she said a little sheepishly. "A monster, I guess, like you said," she added, looking a little sulky.

"Oh," Ahsoka winced. "I...I meant me though."

"But...I'm like you, aren't I?"

She blinked at her reflection. Well sure, it was a literal reflection, but that kind of felt to obvious. "I don't know. Are you?"

"I was hoping you knew."

Ahsoka frowned, slowly reaching to touch the surface of the water. Her reflection moved with her this time, and her hand met the mirrored one. She felt...something. A sense of warmth, of deepest belonging. Like something she'd been missing desperately without even realizing it. "Are you real?" she asked in wonderment, wanting the answer to be yes. Please, let her be real. But her heart sank, as her hand sent ripples across the water, distorting the reflection, and when it stilled again, whatever she'd been talking to was gone. Was it a dream? Something I made up in my loneliness?

Another thing to ask her mother.

Another reason not to want to leave tomorrow.

She recollected herself, standing up. The monastery was perched on a mountaintop, a valley between her and it. Today, anyway; the planet's features didn't seem to be consistent and she was pretty sure it wasn't strictly real, anyway. Ahsoka hesitated for a moment, but convenience won over her guilt this time.

The air was so full of Force energy. Seeing the wisps of darkness there, Ahsoka gathered them, shaping them diligently for a moment before she leapt off the edge of the mountaintop, wings invisible to anyone who wasn't a Seer, gliding over the valley and landing on the steps, albeit clumsily, letting go of the shadows, which dispersed, most of them sinking down into the ground.

Huh, she thought. Why was it always down? Probably because the darkness liked to hide.

Like how I'm hiding it. Is that what it wants? The thought made her shiver. So much to understand, and so little time for it. Her thoughts twisted in circles: the wants no Jedi should have, hiding her darkness. The conversation with her reflection. A monster, I guess, like you said. 

Something was wrong. Ahsoka could feel it. Terribly, terribly wrong.

"Something troubles you?"

She turned to look at the Son, who had appeared a few meters away, standing at the edge of the cliff that looked down into the valley Ahsoka had just flown over. "Nope. Just...thinking."

"It is a pity that you're leaving."

Ahsoka bit her lip. "I'm a Jedi. No attachments. The selfless thing to do is to go back to the galaxy that needs me."

"Oh, don't do that. You stop telling the truth the moment it's me you're talking to. It really isn't fair."

She crossed her arms. "Because I don't trust you. Especially not with my feelings; I know what you'd do with them."

To her surprise, he nodded. "Probably wise." He frowned at her for a moment. "You know, I met the two Togrutas whose ship crashed here. And their little baby. You seemed very very ordinary at the time."

Is that why she never looked for me? Ahsoka couldn't help wondering. "Yeah, I don't suppose you cared very much about me at all," she said ruefully.

He shrugged. "Mortals die too quickly to care about. I confess I was not sure why my sister subjected herself to such torture."

Ahsoka froze, fury mounting inside her. "We matter! You might think you're the most powerful being in the galaxy, but guess why 'your' galaxy isn't silent and empty! Yeah, right, because we--"

"We?" An amused smile curled across his face. "But, little one--"

"No! No, don't say that. I'm-- I won't-- Just. No." She wasn't going to think about dying. Or maybe even worse, not. Of watching everyone el-- Nope, she wasn't going to go there. Absolutely not.

He sighed. "I will stop irritating you. I get less joy out of it than I should. But I have a gift for you, before you leave."

"Remember how I said I don't trust you?" Ahsoka said icily.

"It's nothing dangerous, you have my word. Truly. Look." He held out a book, a real true book. "It is of a Je'daii who favored the dark side."

Ahsoka stared at it, and him, but mostly it. Paper. Force, how she loved paper. If it had been a holocron, she wouldn't have taken it, but she could feel its long history, and she hesitated a moment before she all but snatched it out of his hand. She skimmed through its pages, tracing the ink lines, delighted with how the paper held the ink, the grain of the paper against her hand. And even if she had been more wary of the information inside than she was, she would have taken it, just to hold it and see that someone else had put the Force onto paper too, as she so deeply felt called to do. "Thank you," Ahsoka added, as an afterthought. Not for the paper; paper in and of itself was hers and belonged with her-- and he knew it-- but perhaps she thanked him for the thought of it, or the potential usefulness.

He nodded, understanding, perhaps, more than Ahsoka did, for she could have put none of it into words, but if he thought 'goddess,' he hid it well. It was a gift, and, apart from the train of thought surrounding it, quite a simple gesture. He could hand her a book. He would not miss the Je'daii. The Son would let her have the paper too, claim it as hers, because he was not particularly attached to it conceptually, and he liked the idea of a little goddess who might cause a bit of helpful chaos in her emergence, and shuffle the order of the universe a little with incipient wings. If anyone would have had claim to such a relic of the past as paper, it would be Ashla, and Ashla wouldn't have denied her daughter paper, if her presence, or even the girl herself, wished for it.

In the moment, however, any significance was on Ahsoka. The paper book was nice, the other declaratory or insightful thoughts tossed aside or forgotten after a moment.

Mortis could do that to a person.

Chapter Text

Commander Tano wouldn't come out of her room.

Something had happened, Rex was sure of it. General Skywalker seemed to dread returning to Coruscant, even 'forgetting' how to repair the navicomputer when it malfunctioned. Several times he opened his mouth, as though to tell them something, but changed his mind. 

That wasn't to say he and his brothers had left the issue alone: they'd tried countless ways of getting Skywalker to talk, tried tapping on the Commander's door an inestimable number of times, to no avail.

After three days, their worry got the better of them. "Commander, if you don't open the door, I swear I'll steal General Skywalker's lightsaber and--"

There was the soft click of the lock and the door slid open.

"You could. He won't be needing it." She lay on her back; an absent flick of wrist having opened the door, which, in and of itself wasn't like her. She didn't use the Force so...casually. Her voice was a croak, probably from disuse.

"What's going on?" he asked softly.

Ahsoka sat up. "Rex?" She looked down, biting her lip, then back up. "Do-- do you--" She took a deep breath and finally looked into his eyes. "Do you love me?"

He froze, stunned, and a little taken back because there was something suddenly fiery about her blue eyes. He looked away, trying to make sure he'd heard the question right, then back at her and the earnestness of her gaze hadn't wavered. He honestly wasn't sure love in that context had ever even been in her vocabulary; what did she-- "Um...how do you mean?" he managed.

She burst in to tears. "I'm-- I'm sorry, I love y-you. So much and," her words were broken by a sob, "I'm so selfish. I shouldn't be. I'm a terrible Jedi."

"Commander, I'm sorry but I'm really lost right now," he said nervously. 

"I shouldn't want," she whispered, "people to feel a certain way about me. But I do. I do! I love you and Obi-Wan and Anakin, and that's-- that's bad enough but I want you to love me!"

Oh. Oh. "Commander, I-- that isn't selfish. If I got to decide," he took a deep breath. "You'd be my little sister."

Her sobs subsided a little. Poor Ahsoka, he thought. He understood the desperation in her eyes now...

"Look, just because we have to hide our feelings sometimes to stay out of trouble doesn't mean those feelings are bad. Ahsoka, sometimes the people in charge can be wrong," he said, for as he spoke it hit him that, although it would be unfair to call her naïve, she was, in fact, a child. Who maybe saw her creche masters and the Council as the definitive word on good and evil. Even if Anakin had countered that...he'd never really addressed the paradigm at its core.

He spent a few more minutes sitting with her while she stopped crying, but they were mostly silent.

The only answer Rex didn't get was where exactly this had all come from. And what she'd meant about Anakin.

Ahsoka couldn't get it out of her head, the way she tried to hug her mother, and then changed her mind, and ran onto the shuttle without a word.

She hadn't said goodbye. To her own mother.

The only person in the galaxy who loved her unapologetically. And maybe that was the problem, Ahsoka was so desperate to be loved. She hadn't even known it, because she'd never felt it from anyone, but that was why she'd so readily accepted it all. Until that conversation with Obi-Wan had her mind catch up with her heart, and she thought about how she hadn't slept in the weeks she'd been on Mortis, and the Son's unfinished sentence and what he'd said about mortals, and how bright her mother's presence was, and how she was out of time to ask all the questions she had but would have been to scared of the answers even if she wasn't leaving now and she'd panicked, feeling numb and dizzy and quite a lot as though she'd already left.

She certainly hadn't been there.

And she hadn't said goodbye.

"Maybe the whole thing was a dream," she whispered to herself. She stood, walking to her mirror. "Ahsoka Tano is a mortal," she said firmly, trying to get his voice out of her head. "With a weird glowing Force-presence," she conceded.

"Aren't...you Ahsoka Tano, though?" her reflection asked.

She dropped the cup of tea she'd made herself.

"I missed you," it said apologetically. "Anyway, why are you talking about yourself like you're not you?"

"I don't want to be me," she said morosely.

"Well, for the record, you're my favorite person in the galaxy."

She searched for a protest, but couldn't find one, secretly feeling pretty pleased. "Thanks. Most of the people I know aren't allowed to have favorites."

Her reflection rolled her eyes. "Their loss, I guess."

Ahsoka kind of wondered if she was going crazy.

She kind of didn't care.

Chapter Text

"Close your eyes."

No, she wanted to go back to lightsaber training, please, she would do better...

"I thought Togrutas were known for their hearing. I said close your eyes, apprentice!"

She closed her eyes. She knew this game: How long could she sit with her eyes closed without descending into a meditative state?

Answer: it didn't matter, it wasn't forever

And what part of the Force would he make sure was waiting to take her into its embrace?

Answer: the dark side

And how long, then, would it keep her there?

Answer: Longer every time they did this

What did that make her?

Answer: Not a Jedi, utterly powerless, his offering to the darkness...something hollow and empty, one day, when it got bored of playing with her, and decided to keep her soul forever

The thinking was too rhythmic, lulling. She was slipping...

He doesn't want to teach me to use the dark side, he wants to turn me into a ghost! Why? What good is that to him, to anyone? It didn't make sense; maybe she was supposed to be able to meditate differently, maybe this only happened because she was weak-- Ahsoka was no more of a darksider than she was a Jedi--

The choir of darkness rose in her mind to drown it all out.

Ahsoka's eyes flew open.

"NO!"

He should have been there sooner, but he didn't have to be Force-sensitive to hear the scream. Anakin leapt out of bed as soon as he did, pulling on a robe over his tunic, and tapping softly at her door.

It glided open, despite the fact that she hadn't moved, laying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes, trying to take slow deep breaths.

"You didn't have to come," she muttered. "It was just a nightmare."

"I don't care what it was-- are you alright?"

She sat up. "I don't think I'll sleep anymore."

"You need rest, Ahsoka. If you want, you can leave the light on, and I'm here if you want to talk about it, but--"

"I'm not three," she snapped, but she was lying back down. "Would you sit here?"

He nodded.

"What about when you leave the Order?" It was a barely audible whisper. "What will I do?"

"Close your eyes and try to think about nice things," he suggested. "Peaceful things." 

She visibly tensed, uncertainty clouding her face. "Like what?" she choked out at last.

"Like maybe walking through the gardens at the Temple. That makes you happy, right? Try and picture it: There are Alderaanian lilys. And roses. Snow-flowers, and a Jogan tree, and Turu-grass..." he listed off as many plants as he could remember that could be found in one of the gardens at the Temple, and her eyes slowly closed, her expression, to his relief, serene.

"Can my mother be in the garden?" she murmured vaguely.

Anakin paused, an ache rising up inside him. Mother... "Yes. Of course she can."

He didn't know if the words reached her through sleep, but he wasn't sure they'd only been for her.

Chapter Text

The Council might have been procrastinating on dealing with Anakin for as long as they possibly could, but evidently Ahsoka's inability to shield was, at this point, so glaring that they couldn't afford it the same inaction. Hence how she ended up in a meditation room with Master Windu.

"I don't think training is going to fix this," she said wearily once she'd sat down. "It's not that I don't know how to do it, but it's so draining..."

"That isn't why Master Yoda and I are intervening."

She blinked at him. "It isn't?"

"No, Padawan Tano. We're going to work on alternate ways of protecting your spirit and mind."

"I didn't know those existed. Master," she added hastily, trying to hide her surprise and confusion.

"Many of them are more difficult and involve interacting more directly with one's emotions than is safe for a Jedi to learn without careful guidance."

You have no idea, Ahsoka thought ruefully. In fact, why was he trusting her with this? He may not have known about her Sight, but he knew she'd used the dark side at a dark Jedi's behest.

Used being a vague term. More like drowned myself in.

What would a good Jedi say to that? She didn't know; she was too far removed from such a thing. All that came out was a nervous, "Oh."

"We've deliberated carefully. It's far more dangerous for your presence to remain so vulnerable than for me to instruct you. You're not going to use the dark side," he reassured her.

A shadow wound itself firmly around her ankle, as if in direct objection to this statement. Weary, all Ahsoka could conjure up was a "Yes, master," and a bow.

The Jedi are Lying to You

By: Sarah Pierce

The Jedi are nothing more than a reclusive (and guarded) cult, and they are taking over the galaxy. Our Republic has been at war for nearly a year now, with the galaxy losing nearly one billion lives as a direct result, with the self-described peacekeepers on the front lines.

Fellow, citizens, do not trust in an Order that keeps so many secrets from free thinking Republic citizens. They may have powers, but they fear us because we are no longer content to believe their illusions. How could this be, you may ask? How could peacekeepers of such repute betray us? The problem is, in fact, their power and close-knit community, and inability to relate to sentients who are not 'Force-sensitive.'

How could they? How could a group of individuals who can lift rocks with their minds, heal wounds, and see the future could possibly have our interests at heart, particularly when they grow up insulated from any semblance of normalcy? They can even manipulate our minds; how could they see us as anything but inferior beings to be discarded on a whim? This is why they cannot remain in power-- they are not like us, they are not normal sentients, and if not stopped they will lord over us like gods. It is time to dethrone them, before it's too late. 

We are rapidly approaching that point. The "Hero with No Fear" underscores the ever widening disconnect of the Order from the reality of normal sentients. Anakin Skywalker is allegedly the most powerful of the Jedi, with chilling effectiveness on the battlefield. Would you truly trust a creature so deadly, that could crush you the moment he felt like it? Beings who connect to the Force are inherently dangerous. But, some may say, are they not good? Power corrupts, and the Order's privacy shows a deep-seated need to hold on to every bit of power they hold over the galaxy. HoloNet reporters have been repeatedly denied crucial information regarding actions of members of the Jedi Order. Namely, a recent Council decision to enact 'disciplinary measures' against Skywalker. Knowledge of what these measures are and why they are being taken have not been made public. If they are to be trusted, why do they have so much to hide?

Trouble seems to surround Skywalker, in fact. His padawan, Ahsoka Tano, whose uncanny appearance the public is familiar with, reportedly struggles with headaches, fainting episodes, and even hallucinations. Padawan Tano holds the rank of Commander in the GAR, and no initiative has been taken to reevaluate her capabilities or rank in light of these concerning claims. Many assume that because her apprenticing to Skywalker was the beginning of her notoriety, it was the beginning of her career as well. However, the "Hero with No Fear" was not her first master. Tano was originally apprenticed to Former-General Pong Krell, who was quietly sentenced to a lifetime in prison for war crimes, among other charges. Padawan Tano was not investigated.

"Tano quite possibly needs admittance into a psychiatric ward. She should not be in command of a battalion of clone troopers," said Dr. Karina Wiln, an esteemed researcher renowned for her work on the biology of Force-sensitivity and its mental impacts, and was part of the team of researchers who developed the technology now used in restraining devices such as stuncuffs specifically designed to limit the abilities of a Force-user.

In fact, Wiln suggests that Tano's radiant appearance may not be involuntary as has been previously suggested, but a deliberate use of the Force intended to impress her audience. "I could definitely see the use of such an ability as a potential bid for attention, or even an outlet for narcissism," she told us. "Unfortunately, it's very likely this behavior was encouraged by her so-called mentors."

In fact, one of the deepest problems with the Jedi Order is their exploitation of our children. They claim any child with Force-sensitivity to be taken and taught and to forget their families. And they send them to fight in wars, apparently without concern for their wellbeing, the implications for others, or even their sanity. The most horrifying part of the dangers this Order poses, in fact, is that it comes from children stolen from the very society they now threaten.

The Jedi argue that Force-sensitives must be trained, and that attachments hinder that training, citing the dangers of uncontrolled  powers if their strictures aren't followed. However, research is being done into improved and more long-term means of neutralizing Force-sensitivity, and this may present a glimmer of hope, and the possibility of a future without the Jedi lording over us.

Anakin threw the datapad at the wall.

"What, did they find out about you and Padme or something?" Ahsoka asked, glancing in his direction.

"No! I mean-- What do you mean me and Padme?" he corrected quickly.

"Please. Even without a Force-bond I could have figured that out."

He frowned. "Does Obi-Wan know?"

"Absolutely," Ahsoka said lightly.

"You know I always thought if I got expelled from the Order for anything, it'd be that."

She was quiet for a moment, but then-- "So anyway, what made you so mad?" Before he could stop her, the datapad flew into her outstretched hand.

"Ahsoka?" he asked tentatively.

"It's fine." She turned off the datapad, setting it on the table, but she avoided his eyes. "It's just-- people being stupid," she dismissed.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked. It's about her. Why was I more angry than she is?

"It's the HoloNet. What can we expect? Anyway, I'm happy for you. You can go be with her now. I mean, if that's what you want." He didn't think she was lying, but she still wasn't looking at him.

"Is something wrong?"

"Just that I'll miss you," she said. He got the feeling though that it was more complicated than that, but he didn't say anything. It was too hard to guess her emotions with the Force there; she was too good at hiding them.

"Me too," he said.

Was it his imagination, or did she shake her head ever so slightly?

She felt betrayed in a way she couldn't quite explain. It didn't make sense.

In the holobooks she'd read with characters who were actually allowed to have feelings, people got jealous when they cared for someone but that person was with someone else. She certainly didn't feel that way about anyone, least of all her master or Senator Amidala, so what was the bitter feeling that filled her now?

Speaking of books... Ahsoka pulled out the admittedly forgotten pages of paper and began to read.

Chapter Text

"You didn't interrupt. I was just studying," said Tano. Fortunately there was no recognition in her eyes. Sensing his presence as that of another Seer was one thing, but connecting it back to him was entirely another. He was hardly worried.

"Let me remind you, the Force was born in the union between everything and nothing. And therein came the concept of any particular thing, in existence separate from but alongside all else," her unshielded mind projected.

"What truly are the light and dark side but complementary understandings of individuality? Ashla, of course is the sense of the self by context of the larger world in which it resides. Bogan, conversely, seeks understanding of what it regards as the true self, the self free of those external influences to which it is unendingly bound.

"This is why there can be no favoring of either side within the universe collectively, for this understanding of being in its purest form is essential, but no more so than the context in which the self lives. To fail to give due regard to either would be to fail to exist.

"In this way, with the blessing of our great Council, I pursue my study of the dark, for I believe this to be the path for which I am destined, but I seek above all else to hallow the light equally in all its sanctity. For when I should at last rest, I would that my legacy does not tarnish the harmony of the Force's whole, and I beseech my students to seek the same above all else."

What an interesting choice of study. Darth Sidious sat and motioned for her to do the same.

"May I ask why you called for me?"

"I wanted to warn you, I'm afraid. You see," he said, "in an effort to increase access to information and rectify tensions between the Republic government and its citizens, the Senate intends to make available to the public a list of the Force-abilities of all Jedi actively involved in the war."

Her eyes widened slightly.

And this was the delicate part. There were two assumptions she could make here. One would result in his having to kill her. The other... "This is a problem for you, as you could face legal repercussions for not revealing your Sight."

She tensed at this. "Anakin told you," she whispered. "I can't believe--" Her hands curled and uncurled around the edge of the table and left faint scorch marks. She gathered herself. "Forgive me. I was under the impression that I discussed that with him in confidence." She bit her lip. "With all due respect, why are you telling me this? Are you threatening me?"

"No, no, of course not," he said emphatically. "I know this is already a difficult time for you. I myself am deeply saddened by your master's departure." He was furious enough to bring the whole Senate Building collapsing on their heads. Over a decade's work, lost-- "But I thought having time to prepare might be of some small help."

She stared at him doubtfully. She was different from her master, he realized, all though they shared remarkably similar painful pasts. Her reaction to what she'd endured had left her inherently mistrustful of unsolicited kindness, while Anakin had been desperate for anyone to trust. Hers was the more admirable quality-- she had an implicit understanding that selflessness was not in the nature of sentient beings. But it would make gaining her trust more challenging. At last she spoke. "My apologies. I assume Anakin's told you my past doesn't exactly lead me to trust easily."

She was so perfect. Whether she could replace Skywalker was debatable, but she would be wonderfully useful, regardless.

"Of course. I can only imagine. One other suggestion," he said. "If you do elect to keep your Sight private... well, from my perspective, you're staring at a blank wall now. I might find it odd, if I was another Jedi."

She frowned deeply. "I'm sure you're very busy, Your Excellency. I...thank you for your time." 

How wonderful it would be to see that glow replaced with a wreath of shadows.

Ahsoka walked through the hangar, forcing herself not to stare at the shadows.

They can't know you have Sight, and people don't stare at things they can't see.

"I wish I was going with you."

"I know," Obi-Wan said gently. "Once Anakin is expelled from the Order, I'll formally take you as my padawan and you'll be allowed to go on missions again."

Once Anakin is expelled...

A nagging itch was beginning to creep up in the back of her mind. She pushed it away. Bye, Obi-Wan.

She turned her head to look at the departing clones and stared in horror.

Echo was wreathed in darkness. It curled around him, taking the shape of a shadowy blade pressed against his neck.

'Bye, Echo,' the dark side mocked.

Ahsoka could feel his presence, hurtling toward nothingness, soon-- if he left, she would not be seeing him again...

"No!"

Ahsoka reached out with the Force and did the only thing she could think of.

Echo fell forward, arm twisting out at an unnatural angle with a sickening cracking sound.

She squeezed her eyes shut. I just hurt my friend who trusts me. I just--

Rex was cursing. "We're going to have to get him to a medic-- that was a really unlucky fall-- his elbow is definitely dislocated, maybe even fractured."

He can't go to Lola Sayu now. He'll live, Ahsoka told herself.

It didn't make her feel any less sick to her stomach.

"Are you okay?" Ahsoka's wide blue eyes were anxious.

Echo nodded. "It was nothing bacta couldn't fix. I'll just have to have it in a sling for couple of weeks."

"I'm sorry," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"Hey, don't worry, Commander. I'm alright," he reassured her. Ahsoka was a caring person, but she was also used to people getting injured. Such unnecessary worry was unlike her.

"That's good," she sighed. "I should go." She looked so...defeated.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Me?" she asked, like the question didn't make sense. "Me-- oh," she gave a nervous little laugh. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, you seem upset," he said softly. It wasn't really his place, but, "We worry about you too, you know."

Her gaze darted quickly around the room, locking on areas of space seemingly at random. "Thank you. Really. I'll let you get some rest." Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Hey, Ahsoka. You want to go for a walk?" That wasn't the sort of thing Anakin usually suggested doing, but they'd been spending a lot of time walking around the Temple recently. It wasn't like he could stand up to her in a sparring match now. Not having the Force unbalanced him too much; he could barely feel the lightsaber in his hand, he'd told her. Not to mention they had so little time left together. The Council was deciding what to do with him in three days, and they all knew what the verdict was going to be. He had flagrantly broken the Jedi Code.

"No thanks," she said dully over the comlink. "I'm not feeling well." 

She was wasting these three precious days and she knew it. But she didn't want to see anyone. It wasn't a lie either, she wasn't feeling well. After she'd left the hangar, she'd sat in the fresher vomiting her breakfast, and she definitely had a headache. Obi-Wan was right. The dark side was dangerous; it had made her feel that she had to do that. Why hadn't she just told someone?

Because you know the clone troopers. Echo would have still gone. If you'd asked Master Kenobi to find someone else for the mission, that would have been wrong in his eyes because--

Wasn't that essentially what she'd done? Sent whoever they'd picked to replace him to die instead so she could keep her friend? That was selfish and she knew it.

And it haunted her, the feeling of reaching out, the feeling of pushing him to fall just so, how her awareness had still been wrapped around his arm clearly enough for her to vividly feel the snapping of bone and tearing of muscle.

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. It slid down her face to mix with the silver tears that gathered on the bottom of her chin before they dripped into her sink. She looked up into the mirror. She hadn't turned on the light, and her face was illuminated only by its own glow. I look like some kind of monster, she thought. Like something younglings make up stories about to scare each other. 

'Monster, again?' her reflection whispered sadly. 

If any clone died on the mission, she would never know if that burden lay on her shoulders.

'Can I fix it?' the mirror pleaded.

"No," Ahsoka said. "But I can."

Ahsoka got to her feet, running to the hangar bay as fast as her legs would carry her. Obi-Wan and the others were already frozen in carbonite, being loaded onto the ship.

She took a deep breath. "I'm coming too," she told the Ugnaught manning the carbon freezing chamber. No one was going to be dying if she could help it.

Chapter Text

Her eyes were frozen closed. If she'd thought of carbonite freezing that way, before, she probably wouldn't have done it. Her eyes were frozen closed. Her breathing would have quickened if she'd been breathing.

Ahsoka hated how Krell's training still remained, even when he was set to remain in prison for the rest of his life--

She didn't like to think of him imprisoned. She didn't like to think of him at all.

But her mind repeated the pattern seamlessly, carrying on everything even without him there to oversee it: Eyes closed, fall into the waiting darkness for however long it would keep her. A routine just as automatic as her lightsaber katas. The Council had trusted that she wanted to be a good Jedi, and that she'd learn from Anakin and forget everything else. And she could do that, mostly. She could forget everything else, could forget the training of how to hold that darkness in a fist and command it. 

But not this. And Anakin was gone.

And Ahsoka drifted off into the darkness, and she was gone too.

Obi-Wan coughed, stretching his neck.

Definitely not the most pleasant way to travel, he decided.

"Commander! Commander, it's okay--" Fives was saying urgently, and Obi-Wan turned his head to find that he was talking to

Ahsoka?

Her breathing was fast and panicked, her eyes wide, and his hand on her shoulder was met with a yell. "Let go of me!" She pulled sharply away. "Please..."

Obi-Wan looked over at any of the others for help, but Master Secura was looking at him, clearly expecting he would know what to do. Rex was standing surprisingly still, and he hadn't said a single word. Just stared at her.

Ahsoka shook her head at him, but seemed to change her mind, stepping close enough to tentatively place a hand flat on his helmet. Then she threw her arms around him and cried.

That, Obi-Wan thought, should have been me. He'd been hoping to ask to take her as his padawan, once Anakin left, but a sudden doubt filled him as he watched her hug Rex. How could he ever equal that? Equal Anakin?

There was a boy, screaming on the ground, held there by an endless stream of lightning from the Sith Lord's hands. Ahsoka waited, on edge, knowing that someone was coming to save him, any moment, any moment--

No one came.

The Force was screaming too. She was screaming too, and now Obi-Wan was reaching out toward her.

"Let go of me!" Ahsoka cried.

"Commander," said Rex. "Commander, it's General Kenobi. He's trying to help."

She shook her head. The visions didn't help. They felt or caused agony.

"I'm not a vision, Sir."

Not...a vision? But-- she reached out to touch his helmet. The dark side was clumsy with the non-Force-sensitives in her visions. It wouldn't have gotten the armor quite right, the sound of his voice in her head. Ahsoka wrapped her arms around him, tears escaping her. It still didn't feel quite real.

But I never woke up. "I...I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan wore a look of uncharacteristic despair.

Ahsoka struggled, feeling that she wasn't quite grounded but not sure what to do about it. Intention, she reminded herself. Purpose. She was here to keep everyone alive. Because she loved Echo, but it wasn't fair to just protect Echo.

"Rex? I thought we weren't talking through the Force. I thought you didn't want anything to do with the Force. The Kaminoans--"

"Aren't going to make me watch you hurt without doing anything." 

Warmth radiated through her, and she tried to send some Obi-Wan's way too. He felt like he needed it. "I'm okay. Just...please tell me we aren't doing carbonite on the way back, too," she said, trying to make her voice sound light, cheerful. Unbothered.

"No," said Master Secura, who Ahsoka honestly hadn't noticed.

Obi-Wan's face turned stern. "Which you would know if you'd been assigned this mission."

Ahsoka sighed, wanting to put her head in her hands. "I needed to be here," she replied. And quite frankly, she couldn't wait to leave.

Chapter Text

Frankly the mission had had more logistical issues than Charger could keep track of. First, it had been assigned to clones from the 501st and the 212th, something no one had bothered to change given that their General had left the Order and their Commander wasn't...well no one was sure exactly what a Jedi padawan was without their master. Instead, his brothers had been given two other Jedi, which...frankly he wanted to grab whoever had sanctioned this mess as a good idea by the shoulders and shake them.

It left him with a bad feeling about the whole thing, and the height of the cliff and the oppressive temperature did nothing to ease that.

Climbing was...not his favorite, and it was with relief that he reached for Fives' hand. At least he'd only have droids to worry about.

It all happened so fast: Commander Tano turned her head sharply away from the quips she was exchanging with General Kenobi, her blue eyes wide and staring at him barely long enough for him to process it and wonder why. And before he could really think about it, a crack! sounded and he felt himself fall.

There was one terrible moment in which he realized he was going to die, followed near instantaneously by the moment he hit the mine.

Except it wasn't near instantaneously. The moment was drawn out long, longer, endlessly.

Charger wasn't falling at all. He was still, mere feet above the mine, as if someone had picked him up and held him. Above him, his Commander's head looked down at him, emphasized by her glow, her hand outstretched and her expression alarmingly strained given that she was apparently the one keeping him from falling to his death.

Then, her expression calmed, her eyes closed, and the feeling of being held became more secure.

He'd seen what the Jedi could do to some extent-- everyone had, but it was still strange to be suspended in midair by her will or power or whatever exactly it was. Actually, he thought as she pulled him upwards, it was kind of alright though. More comfortable than a rope that was for sure, because the pull was evenly distributed, so that it wasn't like being pulled so much as like floating.

"You can do that with people?" he asked, startled and still trying to process the last thirty seconds.

Fives laughed. Her head-tails darkened slightly, though the glow around them grew brighter. He wasn't about to interpret that. Commander Tano was a bit odd, but it wasn't really worth thinking about anymore than any other Jedi stuff.

"Sir," he added far too late. "I mean, I didn't know that, sir."

"You alright, Charger?" she asked him. That was another thing about her. She learned everyone's names. Her Togrutan hearing picked up subtleties and emphasis and inflections in their voices, and she could tell many of them apart just by listening.

"Yes. Thank you, Commander."

He felt her smile.

"Now," said General Secura, "we have a Jedi to rescue."

However misguided her philosophy, Ashla had been right about one thing, Obi-Wan thought as he turned his attention to the laser turrets: Ahsoka struggled to shield. She had to focus actively, and the second she was otherwise occupied, the barrier would slowly slip and her presence would spill out of it. Which it was now. She radiated prickles of worry, and an odd determination that seemed the slightest bit out of place somehow, like it wasn't about the mission exactly, but--

She whirled around, hands thrown out in front of her, worry blossoming into outright fear, but stopping energy was a lot harder than catching a falling trooper, and this time no amount of calm focus seemed to make it easier for her. He reached out, and Master Secura joined him, and together the three of them held the field. He tried to send her encouragement, and that was when it hit him:

Her focus was entirely elsewhere. It had nothing to do with Master Piell or the coordinates, it did not match with his and sing in the Force.

He frowned, unnerved, and the field exploded, throwing them all backwards. "Why are you here?" he demanded. "Ahsoka, what are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing?" she replied tersely. 

He reached out again, feeling the flow of her energy. It lacked calm, as she glanced around to check that everyone was alright. No, more than that: it was dangerously attached and fierce, and it was centered around one thing.

Protect her soldiers.

Chapter Text

Tarkin regarded her with a cold stare that settled on her glowing montrals. "Was it really prudent to send her on a covert rescue mission?" Ahsoka took a deep breath, trying to keep her face neutral. Sure, her presence was a hinderance when it came to stealth missions; she laughed about it with Rex all the time. But the way Tarkin said it was different: it wasn't spoken lightly, but with a weighty undertone of Is it really prudent to send her anywhere? 

To their credit, neither Jedi mentioned that no one had, in fact, sanctioned her presence here.

"Ahsoka can shield, if necessary," Obi-Wan

She tried her best to prove his point, walling off her presence. The glow flickered. Frustrated, she gathered up her presence itself and twisted it, arranging it to hide the light. Unfortunately, that left the shadows curling around her ankles and outlining the lines on her palms and fingers, incriminating. She tucked her hands behind her back and shook her head at Obi-Wan. 

"It's difficult for me, so I only do it if I have to," she said, letting the light come back to hide the darkness from everyone except herself. She could still See it. It wrapped around Tarkin like a cloak, and hung between them: a tension, and incipient hostility.

Futures flickered on the edges of her vision, but she wasn't here for Tarkin, she reminded herself, and with her indifference, they faded.

Still, she decided, someone to keep an eye on.

Ahsoka recognized the moment that was supposed to have been Echo's death. It was achingly familiar, though none of it had happened.

She tensed as they approached the shuttle, feeling Obi-Wan's gaze from behind her. He could probably sense all the fear she wasn't supposed to be feeling.

'This isn't going to work,' she projected to him.

People were going to die because this didn't work. Echo would have died if he'd been here. Someone else might now die in his place, because of her interference.

Her shields must not have been working, because Obi-Wan sensed what she was about to do the moment before she did it. "Ahsoka, no!"

Master Secura turned her head.

Well then, if all it was doing was exhausting her... Ahsoka dropped her shields, the glow around her brightening. She ignited her lightsabers. The turret. She leapt, sailing through the air. The droids started firing then, but they would've anyway, so she wasn't worried. She seated herself, hitting what she could from her position. But really, she wanted to be using her lightsabers. She burned a hole in the control panel, and then, satisfied that that would prevent anyone using it, she turned her attention to another--

Time slowed as she sailed through the air, making it feel like flying. A blaster bolt just barely missed her, but it wasn't cause for alarm. She knew where they would be and not to be in the same place. She knew to turn her head, and reach out her hand to pull Rex out of the way of a blaster bolt.

There was only one more turret.

She let the Force guide her, leapt a final time, but something was wrong this time, she felt it, panic coursing through her. She wasn't positioned right either, she was positioned horizontally, her arms flailing outward.

Ahsoka fell.

She was sitting in the infirmary, though looking happy enough, which was a good sign. Her arm was held stiffly at her side though, he noted.

"How did it go?" Echo asked anxiously.

"The mission was successful. Master Piell is back safe, and so is Tarkin." She sighed before continuing. Echo could tell she didn't like Tarkin. She gave him a grim nod, noticing his observation and confirming it.

"And evidently the 501st is suffering an epidemic of arm injuries," said Kix. "Can you all watch where you're going, please?"

"I was trying not to get hit by blasterfire! Anyway, you try leaping fifteen meters," she said, her tone playful.

"You fell?" Echo said in surprise.

"I was trying to do a long leap, guess I lost focus." She sounded annoyed, but Echo knew it was probably with herself. She took great pride in her skill as a warrior. By the standards she held herself to, messing up a jump was probably a childish mistake. She shrugged. "Oh, well, guess that'll keep me off missions a while longer.'

"I still can't believe you went on that one," he laughed. "That was daring, even for you."

She buried her head in her good hand. "Ugh, Obi-Wan's going to be having a talk with me later, I'm sure. Anyway, I'm just relieved this is all over."

Her smile this time was bright and genuine.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Evidently, her relief was contagious. 

He waited till they'd returned to the Temple, not wanting to scold her in front of Master Secura (After all, she was still waiting to be assigned a new master-- he didn't want to jeopardize anything). Then, he let her go get her arm seen to, wanting to make sure she was alright. But he couldn't let the way she'd behaved go unaddressed. "A Jedi does not allow fear to guide their actions."

Ahsoka curled her toes, her expression slightly ashamed. "I know."

"Ahsoka, Jedi are protectors of peace. Not of specific individuals. We fight to uphold the will of the Force, not our personal attachments." He sighed. "Ahsoka, I care about Cody, you know that. But we both understand that our priority is the Republic."

"I know," she said again.

At least she seemed to be listening. "Our goal was to rescue Piell and recover the--"

"We did!" she cried in frustration. "And no one died! Or would you rather have had to write a casualty report?"

Obi-Wan bowed his head. That hurt. It was hard fighting a war, as a child, but to suggest the loss of life didn't pain him to, that he didn't hear every death as an anguished cry from the Force... "The problem isn't with the outcome of the mission. The problem is that you joined a mission you weren't assigned, you acted out of fear, and you disregarded our plan without even giving it a chance to work," he tried to explain.

"It wasn't going to work."

"You don't know that."

She turned her back.

"I know you're upset about Anakin. But--"

She still had her back turned, and she was staring at the floor. "It's not just Anakin," she mumbled.

"Then what is it?"

"Do you...remember your family?"

So that was what this was about. He sighed. There was a reason the Order took only very young children. No doubt it was hard for her, to feel that she belonged in two places at once. "Only very vaguely, Ahsoka." He hadn't thought how significant losing Anakin as a master must be in that regard, because if anyone could understand the way she felt, it would have been him.

"It was hard enough being a Togruta," she said quietly. "There's no one else in the galaxy like me."

"You've always just been Ahsoka. Finding out about Ashla doesn't change anything, except that we know now. You're still..." She stared at him, unimpressed by the statement. He couldn't blame her. "Is there something specific you want to talk about?"

"The Son said--" she bit her lip. "The Son thinks I'm not--"

He waited.

She said it so quietly he didn't know how he heard her. Her voice was thin like paper, and flat and hollow. "Mortal. Not going to--" She curled her hands uncomfortably.

Obi-Wan stared at her, stunned. "Well," he said. Her panic over protecting the clones suddenly made more sense. "Well, you're sixteen now and fighting in a war; right now you focus on staying alive, alright? I don't want to test the Son's theory."

She nodded, but her blue eyes were still wide and upset. 

"The dark side seeks to sow doubt and fear. Don't pay it any mind," he told her.

She frowned deeply. Then she nodded again. "Yes, Master."

He sighed, relieved. That was that, then. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Well Ahsoka, I suggest you get some sleep. After all, tomorrow's an important day."

"Yes Master."

In retrospect, it hurt more that she'd missed Anakin's departure. She hadn't thought much of it at the time; she'd been thinking about Echo, but now she had time to reflect on how she hadn't said goodbye.

Just like she hadn't said goodbye to her mother.

And sure, he'd be with Padme, not far away at all, but really he might as well have been in another world.

She curled herself up in her nest of blankets. She wondered what her mother was doing. Although, if no time had passed while they'd been on Mortis, she realized with horror, were years and years passing by there while she spend merely weeks here? Would her grandfather be dead when she returned? If she returned?

She hugged one of her pillows tightly and tried her best to sleep.

Chapter Text

"What exactly can the Jedi do? After centuries of wondering, we're finally getting a definitive answer. The Senate released a report this morning that details many of the skills all Jedi learn as younglings, as well as some less common abilities and a list of their practitioners. Juni Houlner reports from outside the Senate where crowds of people are gathered. Juni, what can you tell us about the public's reaction?"

"Good morning, Alyssan," said a human woman, Juni, whose hair was done up, emphasizing the slightly heart shape of her face. "Well people have flocked to the Senate Building in the wake of this report. We can see, in front of the building, some security is stationed. So far everything's been peaceful. But there's definitely some tension; people are here for all kinds of different reasons: Some continuing to protest the war and the Jedi's involvement, others are decrying the age at which Force-sensisitve children begin their training, and still others are protesting the report itself, saying it violates medical privacy and poses a risk to the security of the Republic by making the information potentially accessible to the Separatists as well. Some are simply praising the report as a step forward in government transparency."

Anakin stared at his breakfast with little interest in eating it, feeling slightly nauseous. What did they think, that Jedi just had a set in stone list of magical powers like something out of a holobook?

On the holoprojector, Juni was now talking to a Twi'lek woman. "My nephew was sent to the Temple as a baby." Tears filled her eyes. "We're so afraid for him. My sister hasn't slept well ever since the war started. He's her only child."

Anakin turned off the holovid, and looked up the report, his heart racing.

Ahsoka's name appeared only in relation to Force Healing. He almost laughed; he'd all but forgotten she'd trained in Force Healing.

Sight wasn't even on the list.

He couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not.

"Did Skywalker give any indication he might be struggling with the Code?" asked Master Koth.

Two lost masters. What gives?

Oh Force. "Not-- Not aside from his difficulty following orders, or anything else I'm sure...you would have noticed." That you've probably noticed about me too. 

"Thank you."

Ahsoka trembled with nervousness as she bowed, and she had to clasp her hands together to keep them from shaking.

Padawans seldom had to be reassigned for any reason other than the death of their master. And this was the second time. What if they thought the problem was her--

"A problem, there is, Padawan Tano."

She froze. No. No, there was no way they could've found out. What was going to happen to her?

"Requested to mentor you, three Jedi have," continued Master Yoda. "Master Kenobi, Master Ti, and Master Windu."

Ahsoka stared blankly as her mind struggled to do a 180 and process the fact that three Council members wanted to train her.

"Agreed, they have, to allow you to decide."

Well Obi-Wan, obviously. She'd been expecting it to be him; she knew that was who Anakin would have chosen if he could have. Nothing would change drastically, except--

Was she sure that was what she wanted? For nothing to change?

"You don't have to decide now Ahsokah," said Master Ti, "if you need time to meditate on it." And Force, it was so strange to hear her name said correctly. 

Obi-Wan nodded and gave her a reassuring smile.

She glanced at Master Windu, wishing he'd say something, anything, and half expecting that any minute he was going to announce he'd changed his mind. He did neither.

She kept her gaze in she spoke. "Masters, I'd like to ask if-- if I could be allowed meditation leave. To make this decision."

There was a slight pause. Master Piell spoke first, "That sounds appropriate."

The other Council members gave murmurs of agreement. Master Gaillia gave a nod but frowned slightly. "There is the other matter we discussed..."

"Inform her, Master Kenobi will," said Master Yoda. "Dismissed, you are."

Inform me of what? Ahsoka wondered. But overwhelmingly, above all else, it was relief she felt as she left the Council chamber to wait for Obi-Wan. It was kind of an intimidating choice to have to make, knowing she'd have to turn down two Council members offering to train her, but she had time to think about it, and the fact that she had a choice at all was far better than what she'd been expecting.

And-- and she could travel for her meditation leave if she wanted to.

She smiled at Obi-Wan when he emerged from the room at last. He didn't smile back. "Ahsoka, before we grant you meditation leave, we have an assignment for you."

She frowned. "I thought I couldn't be given missions again until I had a master," she said awkwardly.

"As delighted as I am to find you do in fact understand that rule," he said, and she felt the tips of her head-tails darken, "it isn't applicable here. The assignment is not a military one."

"Oh," she said, slightly startled. "What is it?"

"As you may have noticed," he said, his voice grave, "the relationship between the Order, the Senate, and the public has been strained."

She nodded. "Yes," she said. "I've noticed."

"The Council has decided, to allow the HoloNet news to interview a Jedi. As Senator Amidala put it, the sense of mystery surrounding us isn't conducive to public relations."

She scowled. "The Temple is open to visitors."

"I know, Ahsoka, but right now it seems as though if we aren't willing to talk about ourselves...well you saw what the Senate did. Either we do it on our own terms, or theirs."

"I still don't get what this has to do with me," she said irritably.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes the way he did when he knew he was about to make someone angry, and she knew what he was going to say a split second before he did. "You're doing the interview."

"No. I'm absolutely not," she shot back. "No, Master," she cried when he just shook his head at her. "I'm not a model Jedi--"

"Which is why you're relatable."

Ahsoka wanted to scream, but anger made her thoughts swirl too fast to formulate into words. She wanted to find every single person who had helped come up with this idea and tell them how stupid they were.

"Please, listen to me. You have a lot of personality. No one would see the way you talk and immediately think 'Jedi,' and we need that right now."

She didn't really get a choice, did she? And then the HoloNet could write a hundred more articles about everything wrong with her. "Fine," she said. "If you don't need me, I'm going to go eat breakfast."

"Ahsoka," he stopped her. "What are you thinking? About a master?"

She whirled around. "Not you!"  There was silence. Profound silence that felt like it clawed at her insides. Please, she thought, don't let me have actually said that. What's wrong with me? "Obi-Wan," she pleaded. It was as though those words had hit him squarely across the face, leaving behind shock and hurt. "Obi-Wan, I--" Ahsoka hadn't felt like she'd had problems getting her words out, not for months, had almost forgotten what it felt like: the helplessness, as though a hand or a snake squeezed around her throat, the way her own mind utterly failed her. I...I...

What?

"Thank you for your honesty," he said flatly.

But it wasn't! It wasn't true at all! 

Obi-Wan, I--

She brought her breakfast to her living quarters so she didn't have to hide tears from anyone, and she sat down, crying.

You can apologize later, when you can find the words. He'll forgive you, she tried to reassure herself.

She replayed the moment in her mind: whirling around, the feeling of something else inside her. Cautiously, she reenacted it, turning--

She fell as her center of gravity inexplicably shifted to somewhere she couldn't pinpoint. Paralyzed by a mixture of shock, confusion, and breathlessness she lay staring at the ceiling for a moment. This, she realized, was the same feeling as when she'd fallen on Lola Sayu.

Maybe one of her montrals had been injured on one of her missions. That could certainly be messing up her balance. She'd have to get them checked if she had time before her interview.

"Just some talking. Then we can go to Atollon," she told her reflection.

It didn't answer. In fact, it didn't do anything else an ordinary reflection wouldn't do either, merely mirroring her.

Which left her alone with the disquieting feeling that the whole galaxy was upset with her.

Chapter Text

Alyssan Lee looked underwhelmed when she walked into the room. Or maybe Ahsoka was just paranoid.

"Good morning, Miss Tano? Padawan Tano?"

Ahsoka stared at her for a moment. You should answer her, she reminded herself. That's what you're here to do. Answer questions. Whose idea had it been to have her answer questions? Her, the padawan who had been in speech therapy on and off for the past year? "Padawan Tano's fine. Or just Ahsoka."

"Great. Just a couple things then, before we start--" And she instructed Ahsoka about things like the holorecorders and other things that didn't register in any of the four languages Ahsoka understood. Ahsoka tried to listen, but mostly she thought about how unfair this was. Alyssan Lee had been asking people questions for almost as long as Ahsoka had been alive, and had done this more times than even she could probably count.

And all Ahsoka had was the training Jedi did in case of a situation where they were captured and interrogated.

It didn't really help in a situation where she was absolutely free to run from the room if she wanted, and lose only her dignity as opposed to her life. 

"And we're here this morning with a very special guest: Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano. Padawan Tano, it's a pleasure to have you here."

"I'm glad to be here," she lied.

"So, there's obviously kind of a bantha in the room-- Jedi aren't usually open to things like interviews-- can you tell me what changed? And what does it mean for you to be here?"

"I guess, to a lot of people, our policy of avoiding this sort of thing is seen as arrogant? But really it's to guard against arrogance. If we acted like politicians do," Ahsoka paused as Alyssan gave a small laugh, "that would distract us from what we're really here to do, which isn't to get attention or please people. So I was really surprised when I found out we were going to break that tradition, because it seems really important."

"A lot of people would say that the public does have a right to transparency, and to know something about the people they're trusting to be peacekeepers."

"Then how come no one's asking for interviews with clone troopers? I mean, everyone fighting in the war-- we've all risked our lives more times than we can count. If that isn't enough for people to trust me, I don't know why knowing my favorite color or whatever would change anyone's mind." And...that probably sounded way too accusatory. 

Alyssan looked amused. "Incidentally, what is your favorite color? Green, I'm guessing?"

"Yes, actually," she admitted. She's trying to be nice. Making light of the slightly passive-aggressive thing I just said, Ahsoka realized. Maybe she's alright after all.

"In all seriousness, it sounds like you just want to be able to do your job. Is that something you take a lot of pride in?"

She hesitated. "Pride isn't really what we're about. But I think you could say fulfillment. I think my life would be empty if I wasn't helping people. But--" she paused, trying to find the words. "We're only sentients. Just like everyone else, we make mistakes. Sometimes we think something will help, and it doesn't."

"Is the war a mistake?" Alyssan asked.

Ahsoka frowned. "I'd be lying if I said I knew. I don't think any one person can know something like that."

"I'd imagine it's hard to fight without knowing."

"Not in the moment, when I'm protecting people. Then it's just my training," she answered, "and the Force."

"And by all accounts, you're quite a formidable warrior-- trained by The Hero With No Fear himself. Can you tell us about that?"

"About my master?" she asked, feeling a sharp ache. What could she even begin to say about Anakin, for all of the galaxy to hear?

"Anakin. Anakin, wake up. You're not going to believe this."

Anakin awoke from the dream he'd been having, in which he'd been on Ilum with Obi-Wan, who had been trying to convince him to wear a hat made of bantha fur that was several sizes too small and very itchy.

He'd been unsettled by the dreams he had in the absence of his connection to the Force. It had taken a lot of convincing from Padme for him to believe they were absolutely normal, and even so, they still made him worry for his sanity a little. He wondered what Ahsoka would think of that. Probably she'd be sad all over again for the lost connection with him. He had a hard time imagining she wouldn't be the slightest bit scornful.

Her dreams, when she dreamed, were gifts from the Force, a mark of her deep connection with it. She could sketch temples, could draw people who hadn't yet been born; she could glean innumerable pieces of insight from what she saw in her sleep.

She was a Seer. And a small part of her likely was the Force itself.

Just like how Anakin had been.

He couldn't help but think that she would wrinkle her nose at the disjointed thoughts and scenarios that now filled his dreams: the one where she'd said she'd had a vision of him rejoining the Order, the one where she'd made a drawing of Master Yoda with a garland of pink flowers on his head, or the one where she'd been demanding that they arrange a birthday party for her mother.

"Anakin, Ahsoka's giving an interview."

"What?" Was he still dreaming? Was this one of the ones where he dreamed about waking up?

She practically dragged him into the living room.

He was definitely still dreaming.

"Can you tell us about that?" Alyssan Lee was saying to his padawan, sitting across from her.

Her eyes flicked to the holorecorder to that she seemed to be staring straight at him. "About my master?" she asked. There was a moment of silence. "He was a great warrior, and a great person. He taught me to trust myself. I'm going to miss him a lot-- he was like an older brother to me."

Was. She was talking about him like he'd died.

Her eyes were glassy, and now she was talking about something he'd done on some or other planet. Was that how she saw it? The way she saw things was shaped by her connection with the Force. To what extent? Could she just...not process that he was still there and still the same when there was nothing there for her to feel?

She was talking about classes at the Temple now, and about her training, her voice happy and light, even if it held the slightest hint of nostalgia.

He turned off the holoprojector.

After she talked about Anakin, Ahsoka felt more at ease. She answered the other questions without much trouble at all, because she felt nothing could compare to that in importance. She talked to Alyssan about what the Order was like-- she mentioned a little pointedly that many parts of the Temple could be visited by the public if they were really so fascinated with the subject. She talked about how she felt about the report released by the Senate: "That's just not how Force abilities work." 

But the last question made her feel frozen. Stuck. "What would you say to your parents, if they were listening to you now?"

She'd been expecting something like that-- that was what everyone talked about, how children joined the Order at such a young age. She could imagine the Council holding a collective breath.

Ahsoka felt the tips of her head-tails darken in agitation. Again, she was going to lie. Ashla wasn't listening, her other parents were dead. But there were parents who weren't, and right now, for them...she was the voice of their own children. "Thank you?" she tried. "For loving me. It's a very generous thing to do, to love someone halfway across the galaxy who has a duty to love all sentient life equally. And it's not fair for you to have a feeling like that especially just for me when I can't for you, but you do it anyway, and that's really, really incredible. We can all feel it, even if it's something unnamable and far away, and we're grateful for it. And sometimes it makes the difference between life and death for us, that little distant feeling of being loved."

"Thank you, Padawan Tano."

"Thank you."

Her breath caught in her throat.

She kept her composure for as long as she was in sight of the recording studio.

She came barreling toward him so quickly he was sure she must be fleeing some adversary. Her face was streaked with what could have been silver tears or just as easily been war paint, that glowed-- impossibly-- bright enough to stand out against the brilliance she already radiated. Her head-tails flew out behind her, their tips impossibly dark, and a gray whirlwind trailed after her also, like wings or a cape or a regal train.

She threw her arms around him, and she was so warm it bordered on uncomfortable, but he was not in fact uncomfortable. He hugged her anyway, all the same.

'How'd the interview go?'

She reminded him a bit of a cat when she was angry for no real reason, and perfectly ready to admit it. She made a low hissing sound. "It was hell Rex." 'I'd rather have been fighting droids.' "On a swamp planet."

"You know the Commander's angry when she alternates between telepathy and words. You look..."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Like something out of a battle droid's nightmare."

She nodded. "My presence falls apart a bit. When I'm upset," she looked sheepish, like she expected him to back away in disgust. Where would she get that idea from?

A wave of worry swept through him. The state of her Force-presence had certainly seemed to devolve over the past year, if the healers were anything to go by. "Tano's 'condition' has worsened," he'd heard them say. "They talk about your presence-- about it becoming one with the Force."

She shook her head. "I'm not dying, Rex. This is just how I am." She frowned. "Condition? It's not really that kind of condition. It's more like being alive than dying. I'm not sure what they think getting better would mean."

Just as the hug shouldn't have been comfortable, neither should her nonsensical sounding explanation. But his worry abated. "I heard you're going on meditation leave."

"Yes," she confirmed. "I'm leaving tonight, actually." She smiled. "I really need it."

"I'm glad you get to escape for a bit."

"I'll miss you, though. Will you tell everyone I said goodbye? I don't know if I'll get time to come say so myself. I still have to pack and all."

"Of course I will. And we'll miss you too." He hugged her one last time. "Be safe. If anything happened to our sister--" He stopped himself. He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have hugged her. He'd been far too--

"Sister?" she echoed, and her smile was brighter still than even the tears clinging to her face. "Thank you. That means...more than I can put into words. And I will."

"You'd better. You're supposed to be resting. Meditating. Same difference. Not getting into trouble."

"Oh, um, Rex?" She closed her eyes for a moment, hesitating. "Tell Obi-Wan...tell him I said--" She took a deep breath. "Tell him I said sorry."

It was nice to be alone, Ahsoka thought as she glanced around the spaceport. "I'm just here to refuel my ship," she told said, handing over the credits. She could go for a quick walk while she waited. She turned and

She was overcome by a wave of dizziness, as in her mind she felt four legs, a long tail--

A hand caught her as she fell, and the face that stared down at her was similar to Ventress': pale, marked with grey. Her voice, too, resonated similarly as she spoke, making Ahsoka shiver. "Do not be afraid. I can help you."

Chapter Text

She wants to be a Jedi and that isn't a destiny that leaves room for family.

She wants to be left alone.

She didn't even say--

Ashla was lamenting again. The Son could hear her.

"Come, now, sister. It's time we had morning."

She turned away from her him. She was not bitter but, he sensed the thought: perhaps it was his darkness that had caused her abrupt departure. Perhaps--

"There is nothing to fight at night time," he complained, mostly to drown her out. "It's dreadfully boring. I want you to make the light come so that I can drag it below the horizon again, please. You are torturing me. I will die of boredom."

It was unlikely, though not entirely impossible, to die of boredom. Or at least, there was no proof that it was impossible. She closed her eyes. "I wanted her to see the waterfall, and my forest. I wanted her to see me in my winged form, and..."

The Son was not sure he could recall his sister ever using the phrase 'I want'. Except--

"I love them!"

That had been close enough, perhaps. When the two mortals had been there, his sister had been different. Strangely elusive, at first, deflecting questions she normally answered unflinchingly. Hiding. He would glare and her glow would brighten with unparalleled radiance she could not contain, because it was not in her nature to hide things. Love complemented her being; all that was light and good became more of both.

It was infuriating, because want was supposed to belong to him. She wasn't supposed to be able to, let alone in a way that made it selfless and better and so much more beautiful. It wasn't fair.

Ahsoka kicked her, reaching for her lightsaber, and the woman retreated, her expression somewhat resigned, to stand next to her companion, another Dathomirian.

"Kasyn," she said. "I told you she'd--"

"Enough, Devra."

"What do you want?" Ahsoka demanded. "I don't take kindly to being--"

"We want to help," Devra, the one who had caught Ahsoka reiterated.

"I don't need help. I'm going to Atollon, and--" She silently wanted to hit herself. Why would she tell her destination to two dark side witches? Stupid. That was stupid.

They exchanged a look Ahsoka couldn't read. "What have the Jedi spoken to you of your spiritual needs?"

Ahsoka blinked. "You mean our presences? They're the Living Force within us that's uniquely us."

"No," said the other, Kasyn. "About your spirit."

She shrugged. "It exists physically.

"Part of it wants to take a separate physical form," Devra interrupted. "Probably an animal. All presences are multifaceted and become more so as time goes on. Just as your spirit currently has a corporeal manifestation, the more pronounced distinctions in your presence will also."

Ahsoka blinked. "I-- what?"

"Shapeshifting," she clarified shortly.

"But-- but--" Mother! You never told me that! 

"But this first one will want to be separate. You'll be more in harmony that way-- it will be able to be a companion without you having to actively make room for it."

Ahsoka's head hurt trying to understand, but that sounded better, to not actually have to turn into...whatever it was the with four legs and the tail. She tried to imagine. It would be like...Morai! Like that, just not a bird. That would be alright. She took a deep breath. "Okay. So what exactly am I supposed to do, then?"

They looked at each other. "It depends. Is there anything you've felt, anything at all, besides a shape?"

She frowned. "My reflection," she said slowly. "It talks to me."

Devra stared at her. "A reflection? That almost feels too easy. Do you have a mirror? A handheld one?"

Ahsoka shook her head. "Jedi aren't really big on carrying mirrors around."

Kasyn reached into her bag and dug out mirror with an ornate silver handle. "When you get to Atollon," she began...

"Ahsoka-- the Commander," Rex corrected.

Obi-Wan looked up. "You can call her Ahsoka in front of me," he said mildly. "I know you two are close."

"Right. Thank you sir. Ahsoka said she's...sorry?"

He frowned. "Did she say anything else?"

"No, sir, just said to tell you she's sorry."

"Thank you Rex," he said quietly. 

She couldn't have come tell him herself? He thought about her interview-- there'd been moments where the Council might hold their heads in their hands, but that was what they'd wanted. Her genuine...spirit, the Council would say to avoid the words that more accurately described it: passion, emotions.

He wondered, if asked, what she would have said about him.

Not you!

Flickers of memories came back to him, like memories of a dream: Ashla's urgent expression. "The only thing we have in common is that we're stubborn." And "If she's suddenly very temperamental, it's probably..." What had she said? Had she said that at all? Or was it something he was creating because he so desperately wished he knew how to help her. But Mortis was so hard to remember.

Ahsoka didn't have that problem. Ahsoka remembered. But then, that made sense. If Mortis was like a vision-- well, he remembered the carbonite incident. The Force sent her visions sometimes. When her eyes were closed...

Another memory came back from Mortis:

Ahsoka, sitting with her eyes closed, holding a paper in her hand.

He found himself walking more quickly down the hall, till he was at the door to her quarters. He opened it. He stepped into the room and opened the desk drawer.

It was stuffed with sheets of paper to the point where it barely opened. They rustled as he carefully prized them out. They were drawings. When-- how would she even have gotten paper and the things to draw on it? He didn't know. It seemed like she'd used colored ink, or paint maybe?

They were amazingly good. They could have hung in a museum among the works of ancient artists who had devoted their lives to the profession and not been incongruous. There was a portrait of her mother's convor, bright and happy. There was one of Anakin, and he could immediately tell she'd made it after he'd cut himself off from the Force. The colors, the lines, the sense of him being Anakin was just slightly dulled.

They grew less pleasant. There was Echo's helmet lying abandoned on the ground.

There was the Council Chamber with cracked stone floors, dark ink seeping upward through the cracks.

There was Ahsoka, small and without her glow, Krell towering over her. Her eyes were closed. Her outline was blurred, and his eyes were wide open, fixed hungrily on the fuzzy edges.

There was a sinister figure in black armor, a mask hiding his face. Again and again she'd painted him, his red saber clashing with that of an older Jedi with white hair and a slightly unkempt beard, or standing next to a hooded figure, or dueling Obi-Wan himself on a fiery volcanic planet.

She'd painted herself surrounded by shadows, her eyes glowing gold.

She'd painted a boy dueling a Pau'an with a double-bladed red saber.

There was an unfinished sketchy outline of a screaming human woman with eyes that turned Obi-Wan's heart to ice.

She'd painted so much suffering. But not all of her paintings were portraits. There were Sith Temples, masks, maps, a starship--a Corellian Freighter, he was pretty sure.

There were rows and rows of clone trooper helmets next to the wreckage of an enormous ship.

So much death and destruction.

How long had she been doing this? How long had she been seeing these things with her eyes closed? Some of them were memories, some of them were real. Were the others...?

There was something else in the drawer. He lifted it out, wondering what other horror he might possibly find.

It was a book. Writing, mostly, not pictures. And it was very very old.

"What truly are the light and dark side but complementary understandings of individuality? Ashla, of course is the sense of the self by context of the larger world in which it resides. Bogan, conversely, seeks understanding of what it regards as the true self, the self free of those external influences to which it is unendingly bound.

"This is why there can be no favoring of either side within the universe collectively, for this understanding of being in its purest form is essential--"

"Oh no," he whispered. "Ahsoka, where did you get this?"

There was a page that was ever so slightly folded over at the corner, marking it apart from the others. Heart racing, he turned to it.

"The Tython Observatory," it was entitled.

"Were I on the Council and in charge of such matters as the code of conduct we hold our members to, I would that the Je'daii Order pay less attention to the occasional curse, and more to the insensitivities I hear uttered by padawans all too frequently: "You're crazy! They ought to send you to the observatory," or "The two of you fight like a pair of old Seers!"

I am not, however, on the Council, and so the least I can do is inform you.

Sight is rare and little understood. Seers, such as myself, are often referred to abbreviatedly as "the Je'daii who dream without sleeping."

What often goes unmentioned is that our doing so allows the rest of you to sleep soundly.

I was lucky I had an attentive master, who noticed the emergence of my Sight before I did. She spared me much pain in doing so-- I was an avid daydreamer as a youngling, and had taught myself to dismiss my mind's wanderings. When the first glimmers of futures presented themselves, I paid them no mind. It was my master who first noted their persistence, bringing me to our Observatory Temple on Tython to be tested and to receive instruction.

Sight is an outlier among Force abilities. Though it is debated whether it's entirely predestined, or whether it arises from circumstance-- (someone had circled the latter, Obi-Wan noted.), it cannot be learned. No one is born able to See, and no one over the age of sixteen has ever developed the ability. Perhaps this is a blessing; children's minds are adaptable. An adult would likely be unable to adjust such a change in perception. But it is merely that. A difference in perception. We are not mad. We perceive things that can strain our spiritual wellbeing-- neglected Seers have lost their sanity. But Sight itself is an application of the Force. It is different from most others, and it is involuntary, but in nature it is no different from any other sensing ability. The Observatory is not an insane asylum.

As for our quarreling, yes. As we age, we often grow discontent among others like ourselves. It is a mechanism by which the Force leads us to learn from those who are not like us and for them to learn from us. Were it not present, our shared struggle would lead us to cling together. That was never the purpose of our gifts. For, when we are young, and for those very few among us few who are not called to teach and mentor young Seers, we are tightly knit. We support each other and take comfort in each other. Just as there is little that can match our quarrels, little can compete with our friendship. Though I cannot speak for everyone, we are generally inclined to love deeply those we consider to be our family. 

At the time of my writing this, there is a division within the Order, and I feel I must address it. To those masters advocating the dissolution of the Observatory, with all due respect, you do not understand, nor can you hope to understand the gravity of the atrocity you are suggesting. Young Seers need the training of others. Yes, we are prone to hostility among ourselves, but the familial nature of the Tython Temple is an antidote to this. To separate us would only make the problem worse.

Nor could a Seer be properly trained and accommodated under the tutelage of anyone who is not a Seer. How could they be? The things we See are not merely visions but the most dire warnings the Force can offer. When the visions first present themselves, they are utterly uncontrollable. Every single one of us has screamed and cried, clinging to the hand of a mentor and begging them for help even they cannot offer in an immediate form. Nor can anything parallel the utter certainty that the things we See are real, and inevitable; though this of course is an exaggeration, it is no less harrowing for the person experiencing it.

And outside of the visions, we begin to see shadows-- like ivy they grow around things we so love for their light. They are not always kind. They too give ominous warnings. They whisper to us. They too are real. We can reach out and touch them, shape them. Some of us can even interact with them in more tangible ways. Who among you could be prepared to train such an ability without experiencing it? No, that is too kind a way to put it. Who among you could truly stand to experience it? There is a reason the darkness withholds this from all but a precious few. We are your councilors, your advisors, your navigators. We suffer, so that you can steer us away from those futures. We experience horrors to spare others from them.

We deserve, at the very least, your respect.

With that aside, at the Observatory, (at least at the time of my writing this) Seers are trained, and guided through the precarious relationship they hold with reality. We learn to control the visions, to direct our Sight as we do our physical vision. Some of us learn to manipulate the shadows as well, if we show aptitude. Others are trained to ignore them. We find family and comfort among each other, and we ground each other spiritually. Though some of my worst memories reside there, it is a place I think fondly of. There, I have people who share them."

Obi-Wan stared at the page. He hadn't meant to read the whole thing, but it had held him transfixed in utter terror. Seeing shadows? Visions? Dreaming without sleeping? He felt ill.

"How long has she been hiding this?"

The book, of course, offered no answers.

"And how has she been managing without a teacher?"

And most importantly of all, "Is it too late to help her?" What if she wasn't really on meditation leave? What if she'd gone to seek out some dark holocron or teacher out of desperation?

What if that apology hadn't been about yelling at all? What if it wasn't about anything she'd done?

What if it had been for something she was about to do?

Ahsoka stepped out of the ship, Kasyn's mirror in her hand.

Start by giving her a name. Names are indicative of acceptance.

Ahsoka thought about it. She imagined what her parents might have come up with if she'd had a sibling, or a twin sister. "Ing-Soli," she decided. Small storm. Or maybe just... "Soli," she said more confidently, directing it to her reflection. "Soli, I want to...Force, this feels stupid. Um, I want to-- to give you the space to be everything you want to be. So. So, mostly so I can stop feeling dizzy, because it's going to get me killed in battle for sure. Get us killed, I guess. I don't know. I wish Ashla was here. I think you do too. But it'd be good to have each other. It was really great when you were my reflection and maybe this will be better. Maybe you can find Morai and properly talk to her, and tell her to tell Mother that we miss her and we're sorry we didn't say goodbye. And I know you have a tail, so maybe don't be, like, a tooka or something, because that will make it even harder to convince the Council that you're not a pet and that it's not an inappropriate attachment for you to be at the Temple with me. That'd help a lot, thank you."

She lifted the mirror over her shoulder, squeezed her eyes shut and turned, trying to recreate the feeling from before, and threw the mirror as hard as she could, shattering it.

The feeling of imbalance softened into a vague sense of warm energy, a thread of it, anchored somewhere deep within her, stretching out to connect to--

She opened her eyes.

Her jaw dropped. She took a trembling step backward, her breath caught in her throat. "S-soli?"

The tail slid back and forth, hissing in the sand.

"Ahsokah." It didn't even seem like it was in her head. It sounded spoken. Not at all like Morai's impressions of words and feelings.

A deep and furious sense of joy rose up inside her, and she wrapped her arms around Soli's neck, barely getting the words out as she buried her face in her fur. "I didn't mean a nexu!" But it wasn't Soli's fault-- Soli was a part of her. The giant cat curled herself around Ahsoka.

"I'm so glad! I'm something now, not just a reflection."

She was something. With a mouth full of needle sharp teeth and four spider-like eyes. And Ahsoka loved her. She felt her eyes well with tears. If Soli was a monster--

"I thought we said I'm not a monster," she sulked. "We're hunters. The teeth are for hunting."

"You're so big, Soli. How are you going to go anywhere with me? I don't even know if you'll fit in the shuttle. I can't leave you here."

The energy between them hummed. It felt too fragile, compared to its importance.

"And I can't believe we talked to Nightsisters! And that they said--"

"To call them if we ever needed anything," Ahsoka giggled in disbelief. "They were interesting. The way they used the Force kind of reminded me of our shadows."

She sensed Soli's agreement. "We should go on a scavenger hunt. Meet as many of the other Force-users we learned about as possible."

Ahsoka stroked her fur. That didn't sound like something she would say. She was confused again: to what extent were she and Soli the same? She sighed. The fur was surprisingly soft, much softer than it looked. She even looked more like Ahsoka than a nexu should have. Her russet brown was distinctly orange-y, with white stripes. The spines on her back and her tail were a dark blue. And, although her size had been initially alarming, she was quite small for a nexu. As much as Ahsoka was uncertain, she found herself happy. "What do you think?" she mused. "Did we come here just for this? Or is there another reason we're here?"

"We have a week. Let's use it for something."

"Fair enough. We might as well explore, then." She glanced at the shattered mirror. "Don't get any glass in your paws. I should probably clean this up. This planet is pretty untouched; I don't want to be the person to ruin it." She ran back to the ship to get a broom and dustpan, sweeping up the fragments and carrying them back into the ship.

She found herself getting used to the idea of Soli being a nexu. Then she glanced down and saw the footprints. And the claws.

She winced. Right. Just like Morai. This was going to take some getting used to. And some serious explaining when she got back.

Chapter Text

Time on Mortis passed in endless night.

Ashla seemed to be thinking of sleeping. She sat, mostly, in still meditation in her grove of trees. She did not make morning. He couldn't even sense much from her.

"If she is called to rest, the mandate is hers and hers alone to know and uphold," Father said stoically. Which was true-- of each Force-wielder, and even the other Elders of the universe, those beings who were also of the Force, but were more distant kin. Each had their own energies which awakened them, and those that sent them into dormancy again. That was the way of things.

But the three Ones slept far less frequently than other Elders. And this had never happened before: the light at rest while the dark remained awake. The Son was sure it wasn't time for his sister to go about resting-- she was confused, in her grief; she was misreading the signs. He was surprised too, that Father wasn't more concerned: surely it would offset the balance.

"Sister. There will be suffering without you."

She blinked. "What is it to you?"

He wasn't sure. This just felt...so wrong. But if Father wouldn't see it, if his Sister couldn't see it...

The Son would have to do something himself. But what?

She was still getting used to Soli being there. The nexu was more present than any connection she'd ever experienced before-- a thread of awareness that she could easily stumble into and forget her own.

Ahsoka mentally fidgeted with her shields. Master Windu had taught her to arrange her thoughts and feelings into a labyrinthine fortress, but she wasn't good at it. It was too much like holochess and it was too paradoxical: using the contents of her mind to protect...themselves.

She understood why it wasn't widely taught. It involved a lot more examination of one's emotions than the Order typically encouraged. But it didn't really help-- which made it all the more surprising that Master Windu wanted to train her. Surely all she'd ever demonstrated to him was hopeless inadequacy at using the Force in a way that favored pragmatism and minimalism over the expression of outright power. 

The problem was that Ahsoka wasn't terribly disciplined. Her strength in the Force had often afforded her the luxury of being clumsy.

Master Windu wouldn't, though. Maybe she should choose him.

Or maybe Master Ti. It might be nice to learn from another Togruta. But the idea frightened Ahsoka a little too. Because there was a part of her that wasn't Togruta at all, and nothing would bring it into sharper relief than the contrast of her standing next to Master Ti.

She took a deep breath, trying to re-center herself in the present. Atollon really was a beautiful place, the flatness of the desert made the corals stand out with beautiful dramatic contrast, in spite of their relatively dull color.

Soli sniffed the ground and promptly sneezed.

"Sand," she complained with fleeting annoyance. Then, suddenly, she raised her tail, the spikes on her back seeming to stand up even taller, and gave a low growl.

"Soli? What's--"

A moment later she saw what had sparked Soli's fear. Sunning itself on a rock, precariously near her leg, was a snake. Its presence was frankly just as baffling as it was terrifying; its dark color was at odds with the pale orange of the desert. It was the kind of snake that belonged among the undergrowth of a rainforest, waiting to startle and strangle whatever unfortunate creature walked by, all coils of deadly strength.

Then again, perhaps not. Now that she looked, it had brilliant red stripes all along its back, some outlined in pale grey so that they stood out even more sharply against the smooth black scales. How had she not noticed that a moment ago?

"Ahsokah?" Soli's growl had faded, her head tilting, and her tail curling, but Ahsoka didn't really notice her change in attitude. She was more concerned with the fact that the snake had opened its mouth in a yawn. It was shorter than her height, and yet somehow managed to have fangs as long as hers-- only where a Togruta's were for tearing flesh, these were thin little needles. And it was so close to Soli's leg-- she knew from too many treks across deserts and jungles with the 501st how quickly that distance could disappear--

"He says he is called Moros, and he is the Son's--" Soli paused. "Valkare?" Another pause. "Like me. Or Morai."

That made a kind of sense, given taht Soli seemed to be conversing with the creature, and all she could sense were the same vague impressions she'd been able to discern from Morai, though even fewer of them. It-- he, she supposed, had a presence that actually was reminiscent of the Son's. She wasn't sure if that made her feel better or not-- if she trusted a piece of the Son's presence more or less than a random non-sentient viper she'd encounter in the desert.

"He wants us to come back to Mortis."

"Why?" Ahsoka said, genuinely puzzled.

"Ashla...misses us." 

Ahsoka paused, emotions tearing at her at the thought of being missed. But she collected herself. It had kind of been an unspoken agreement with Obi-Wan when she'd asked for meditation leave that that wasn't where she was going. She did want to see her family again, but... "I can't." I can't go to you, mother, because then I might not be able to leave again.

Moros gave a sudden hiss, and Soli jumped backward, tail between her legs, but it was all for naught. He was gone, just as suddenly as he'd been there in the first place.

"Soli?" Ahsoka asked anxiously.

"It's alright. I don't suppose he can do anything now. Wherever he went. He was just angry, is all."

Ahsoka wasn't sure. She wasn't particularly used to anger from anyone, recently anyway, and it didn't sit well with her when she was on the receiving end of it again.  Still. "You're probably right. " She thought for a long moment, still a bit unsettled. "You...can't do that? Can you? Disappear, I mean."

Soli lifted a paw disdainfully. "I don't think so. Anyway, I wouldn't want to go anywhere you're not."

She was actually having a hard time understanding now how Ashla and the Son could send their...what was Soli's word again?...Valkare? so far away from them. She was pretty sure she would miss Soli impossibly. Evidently, Soli felt the same way.

As Ahsoka sat next to her, stroking her fur, she felt at peace for the first time in several weeks.

Barriss bit her lip, feeling nauseous.

She'd been putting off reading the casualty report all day.

172 dead

337 injured

And the Council would see it as a victory, wouldn't they?

What is this even for? Peace? Barriss swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. "Ow! What--"

She looked down at her leg to see two little dots of blood there. That-- that wasn't good. Suddenly, the room felt cold. Barriss shivered, a sense of dread filling her, and--

She blinked, and the two red dots were gone.

You're tired. You're tired and you're imagining things, she told herself, shaking her head.

She didn't see the snake vanish into the shadows.

Chapter Text

On their third day of wandering, the reason for the planet's resonance in the Force became apparent.

The being had blended into the landscape, armor-y body matching the planet's rocks and coral. She should have sensed the presence, though-- it was even more monumental than the creatures size.

Soli, who had been wandering ahead of her, nose to the ground, leapt back to stand next to her. Ahsoka suddenly found herself rather inclined to run away, which was unusual for her. As a Togruta, her reaction to danger was usually to fight-- to reach for her lightsabers. Now it took her a moment or two to even remember she had them. Not that they'd do much good.

The being regarded her, and she stiffened, feeling impossibly small under the gaze of the enormous glowing blue-grey eyes.

She waited. And waited. She was met, though, only with silence.

"Who are you?" she asked at last, trying to keep fear out of her voice. She had to stop herself from saying 'what'. "You feel different. Not...dark. Not light." Her grandfather was the light and dark as a unified whole. She could feel both here, though, distinctly separate. A different kind of balance.

"Jedi and Sith wield the Ashla and Bogan. The light and the dark. I'm the One in the Middle. The Bendu." Even his voice seemed like a part of the planet; she could hear the sound of moving rocks in it. "And what of you? What do you call yourself?"

"I'm Ahsoka Tano. And this is Soli," she said, still wary but less afraid.

"Why are you here, Ahsoka Tano and Soli?"

"I-- I don't know," she realized. "I had a vision. A while ago."

"A vision? Interesting."

She looked into his glowing eyes and wondered how much he knew. About her, about visions, about all of it. "This planet is yours, isn't it? It's nice. Quiet."

"Less quiet now that you've come to it. You bring chaos with you, Ahsoka Tano."

The observation made her heart sink. It was not something that would be said of a good Jedi. "You don't want me here."

"You are a child," his voice dipped slightly in almost-sympathy. "The first in a very long time. You have no contemporaries. Only elders. You must be lonely."

Elders? "Others? Besides you and my family?" Ashla didn't tell me about that either. Then again, she wasn't expecting me to leave like that. There was probably a lot she still wanted to tell me.

"There are more of our kind," he agreed. He snorted, clearing a small cloud of dust from his nostrils. "But we have had eons over which to become different from one another."

"My family is on a planet called Mortis. Do you know them?"

"Yes," he declared. He didn't elaborate, though. Again, she wondered what he was thinking. "You should go back to your parent, little one. It is not in my nature to begin conflicts. The same cannot be said for...many of your kin."

"I can't do that. I'm a Jedi."

He exhaled again. It seemed more like a sigh this time. "I see."

An sharp pain stabbed between her montrals, something about now and the words 'see' and 'Jedi' so close together in conversation rippled-- the darkness seemed to see a poetic irony in it, something evidently she should see too.

"It is the Council's opinion that Padawan Ahsoka Tano has committed sedition against the Republic. And thus, she will be expelled from the Jedi Order," declares Master Windu.

Don't cry, don't cry pleasepleasepleasedon'tcry. Not in front of them.

I've seen this before.

She's on a holocall with Barriss, who is saying something about a clue-- "Be careful Ahsoka." Something's wrong, there's something different about her voice, more than just her Core Worlds accent.

She's talking to the Chancellor again. The Chancellor, who Anakin told, so he could help her. He's warning, "Don't look at things that aren't there, Ahsoka. Don't give yourself away."

"Don't look at the shadows."

"Pretend they aren't gathering in the alley like birds whose cries echo in the sound of her voice. Barriss, perfect padawan Barriss who never had anything to do with darkness--"

Ahsoka gasped, leaning against Soli to keep herself from falling over. It took a minute to get her eyes uncrossed so she could see one Bendu instead of two. He was watching. Just watching.

"Soli, we're leaving."

Ahsoka didn't turn around to check, but she didn't think Bendu's eyes left her and Soli as they walked away.

There was something different about Ahsoka when she got out of the shuttle. Not wrong, but glaringly, noticeably changed.

Beyond that, it eluded him, though. He couldn't sense what it was, didn't even know if it was something there that hadn't been before, or something missing.

"Ahsoka."

She gave a surprised gasp as he hugged her tightly. He couldn't help it; he'd been wondering if he'd even see her again.

"We need to talk," he said.

At the same time she said, "There's something I have to tell you." She gave a nervous laugh. "I...probably need to go first. Um." She held her hands behind her back, looking sheepish. "This is hard."

He waited patiently. If she'd finally decided to tell him about her Sight, better to let her do that than bring it up himself.

"So. You know...Morai? My mother's convor?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, wondering where this could possibly be going.

"Right, well Morai's sort of a piece of her presence. Just with a different form. It's called a Valkare. The Son also has one, and I'm pretty sure my grandfather does too."

He nodded, wondering how she knew this.

She stared at the ground. Her lips moved, but she spoke so quietly and the words were so fast and blurred together he honestly couldn't tell what she'd said. She cleared her throat. "Soli?" she called.

"Who--"

He froze. There was a nexu stalking down the ramp of the ship toward them.

He stood, hands chained to the pillar, and Senator Amidala screamed, and the roaring crowd whipped the Force into a maelstrom of bloodthirsty madness so that he could barely think--

"No! No, Obi-Wan, she's not going to hurt you--"

He took a deep breath, centering himself in the present. It wasn't the same nexu. It didn't want to hurt him. "This is...a part of your presence?"

Ahsoka nodded. "She's my Valkare." She tipped her head, as if listening to something. "She says it's nice to meet you properly."

She talks? But only to Ahsoka? Obi-Wan's head spun. He swallowed. "Hi," he said, trying to sound calm, "Soli."

Chapter Text

Ahsoka stared out the window while she waited for him to gather his thoughts. He couldn't help but question it now: was she really looking at the cityscape? Or was it something else, something only she could see?

"Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan interrupted her thoughts. "I wanted to talk to you about your visions."

Soli, who had been asleep by her feet, yawned.

Ahsoka looked startled. "Is this about what happened on Lola Sayu?" she asked doubtfully.

"You're a Seer."

Her brow furrowed, and for a second he thought she was actually going to pretend she didn't know what he meant. "Oh," she said softly. "That."

She didn't seem too upset yet, so he tentatively continued. "How long have you been having visions?"

She rocked back and forth for a moment, standing on her heels and then on her tiptoes. "The Son was teaching me, when we were on Mortis, how not to get lost in them."

The memory flashed through his mind like lightning: concern and leaving because of that, not understanding why she would want to learn from him... and then it was gone. "Ahsoka, I don't--"

"Remember. I know. You can't help it," she said, more like she was reminding herself than comforting him. She stood on her tiptoes again. Forward. Back. Forward.

She wasn't answering his question. Well, if she wanted to talk about Mortis... "What was he teaching you?"

"I give myself things to focus on. It helps if I try to See what I want to See."

The nervousness she'd shown was fading away. Instead of sounding haunted and tormented, there was a confidence in her voice, a tone of voice that said 'I can handle this.' "That helps?"

Ahsoka nodded. "And my drawings."

They could have conversations later about addressing the fact that this was a dark side gift. Right now, Ahsoka needed his support. "I'm glad you have that. Do you need more supplies? More paper, maybe?"

She blinked, looking as confused as he must have looked when she'd brought up Mortis. "I don't...paper?"

"I assume Anakin's been giving it to you. Do you need more now that he's gone?"

"I...get my own paper," she said slowly and doubtfully.

"From where?" It was something of a rare peculiarity these days. It seemed odd that she would just be able to...

Her eyes were becoming glassy as she looked at him blankly.

"Ahsoka!" he cried anxiously. Was she having a vision?

She stared at him, snapping back into her usual focus. "I'm sorry. You...you asked me a question?"

"Where do you get paper from?"

She fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment. Then-- "Did you ask me something?"

He eyed her doubtfully. This wasn't typically her style of humor, and the confusion she was projecting through the Force? He knew her too well to mistake that. He'd have to try to ask Anakin about that.

"Were you...having a vision just then?"

She shook her head. "My eyes always close when that happens. That's...unfortunately how Krell mostly taught me to reach the dark side."

"Oh." Well, that was good to know. "I'm sorry. Can I wake you up if you're having one?"

"Not really. I come back when I come back." She gave him a small smile. "I'm glad we got to talk about this."

"Thank you for trusting me--" He stopped as Soli brushed her tail around his legs.

Ahsoka laughed. "She means she's glad too."

Chapter Text

"Padawan Tano seen with pet nexu!"

Rex couldn't say he was happy about the fact that he read it on the HoloNet before seeing with his own eyes. Ahsoka apologized; she'd been busy with the Council, so he tried not to let it bother him. It just made his stomach turn, though, every time he saw her name in a headline.

"So...you've got a nexu following you around because why?"

In retrospect, it was naïve to think her explanation would make him feel better.

He loved her for what she was, really he did, but sometimes he couldn't help thinking back to that first day she showed up on the Resolute with Anakin, not glowing, not crying silver tears, not apt to spontaneously fall into a vision trance, not talking to him telepathically, and definitely without a feline vanguard. He loved her for what she was, but sometimes he couldn't help thinking that things had been simpler back then.

If I went back and told my past self that in a year I'd be sitting here listening to her tell me that part of her presence is in a nexu--

And the HoloNet thought it-- she, Rex corrected himself-- was a pet. It was almost funny.

Almost.

"You wanted to see me?" the Chancellor asked.

Ahsoka couldn't quite feel comfortable with the reversal of roles-- that was usually her question.

Questions don't belong to people. Where would you get an idea like that? 

Ahsoka was finding herself with odd thoughts like that, lately. Obi-Wan had said something about getting her more paper, and she'd felt this flicker of unexplainable indignance, and a thought: As if you could offer me something that already rightfully belongs to me.

She had no idea where that train of thought came from-- when she tried to trace it, she hit a sort of wall.

But that wasn't why she'd come. "How do I get a nexu recognized as a sentient being?"

The Council could see, plain as day that she belonged with Soli. Even they wouldn't actively interfere with the Force when it spelled things out that clearly. But they wouldn't break Republic law, and Ahsoka didn't want Soli registered as a pet or a service animal. Soli didn't belong to her in that way.

Ahsoka took notes while the Chancellor talked about a the department of sentient services, and their qualifications. "Forgive my curiosity, but I've never heard of any Force phenomenon like this. Of course, I'm not nearly as familiar with the matter as a Jedi would be," he added.

"The Council hasn't either," Ahsoka said honestly, less because of any particular feeling that she was morally obligated to tell him the truth and more because she couldn't think of how to get away with lying. "Although I'm not really supposed to be advertising the fact," she added doubtfully.

"But why wouldn't they want to acknowledge something so remarkable? Surely your uniqueness is to be celebrated, not hidden?"

Ahsoka's voice caught in her throat. "I'm not-- Why are you flattering me? What do you want?" It was too blunt-- accusatory to word it that way, but the thoughts in her head weren't coming out right and she couldn't make it sound--

He frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"You said," she felt her head-tails darken with embarrassment. "Remarkable."

The Chancellor looked aghast. "That's not flattery, Padawan Tano, that's an objective fact. What in the galaxy led you to believe that you're incapable of receiving sincere admiration?"

"I--" She bit her lip. She couldn't believe she'd just let herself spiral like that because he'd given her a compliment. He must think-- "It's not what it sounds like. My master, and my grandmaster are supportive of me. It's just that Krell would say things-- and I've been in my head about it for the past eight months."

He frowned more. What was she doing?

"I don't know what Anakin told you about that, Your Excellency," she added with a pathetic attempt to return to formality, "but I didn't mean to...I can't seem to have a conversation now without"-- what was Barriss' word?-- "trauma dumping, because I can never talk about these things when it's contextually appropriate-- oh Force, I'm doing it again right now-- so I should probably just go. Thank you for your help."

She opened the door--

"Padawan," he began.

--and closed it before he could finish, finding herself gasping as if it was an Acklay on the other side of it, and not the Chancellor.

Ahsoka wanted Soli.

Rationally, she knew she was just one room away, and that this was necessary to prove a point, but that didn't mean she liked it. Besides, being able to run her hand over the fur would make her less tempted to touch the electrodes they'd placed on her head.

The scientist, looking like something out of a holofilm, with a white coat and a datapad, was talking to Obi-Wan as if she wasn't there. Even he looked bored. She cleared her throat three times, and his bald head remained firmly bent over his datapad. How long was this going to take? They'd made Soli comply with long sets of complicated instructions, had monitored her brain activity while she listened to music, had offered her a choice of eating a small piece of meat immediately or waiting half an hour for three more pieces to see what she'd do. Then, they'd wanted to give Ahsoka a Force-suppressant to see if she was acting only on Ahsoka's command, but of course Obi-Wan had had to tell them that wouldn't be happening. So instead, they'd used some sort of energy field-- something that seemed to make the Force feel blurry and hard to focus on, though it was still there.

"If you start to feel unwell, tell me," Obi-Wan had said anxiously. No one had been with her when Ventress had caused her to discover her adverse reaction to Force-suppressants, but she'd told Obi-Wan and Anakin, and they'd both been almost more worried than she was.

She wondered if she should mention that she was starting to have a headache. Though, what with growing montrals and stress, Ahsoka had a headache more often than she didn't. It was annoying not to be able to call on the light to help release her pain, though. She tried her best to relax and breathe, hoping that would help.

She felt kind of...light, floaty.

"Oh!" exclaimed a warm, female voice. Wait-- since when was there a woman in the room? Hadn't it just been Obi-Wan and the--

The human with long, silky brown hair, and an utterly blank face-- two curved lines where her eyelids would have been, two grey dots where she would have had a nose, and a tiny pair of blood-red lips.

Ahsoka tried to scream, but no sound would come out.

The lips smiled, and her eyelid-lines flipped upward into eyebrow lines as two grey circle eyes appeared in her face like holes punched in paper. She leaned toward Ahsoka reaching out a hand with colorless fingers like shards of glass towards her.

"Ahsoka?"

She blinked, and the apparition was gone.

"Are you alright?" Obi-Wan asked anxiously, looking at her.

Ahsoka nodded. "Yeah, just got lost in thought for a minute." She glanced wearily at the wall between her and Soli and tried to reach out.

(((Ahsokah...))) cooed a voice near her opposite montral. It was a terribly empty voice, that echoed endlessly like there was nowhere for it to end. She turned her head. The woman sat in the empty chair between her and Obi-Wan.

"Ahsoka, what's wrong?"

(((What's the matter, Ahsokah dearest?))) The echo-y voice said sweetly. The woman gave a little laugh that grew louder and louder until it was a knife cutting through her skull--

"Can't you-- she--"

(((I AM SPEAKING TO YOU, CHILD.)))

"Soli?" Obi-Wan asked, confused, somehow not seeing the demon whose hand was inching towards his throat.

Ahsoka struggled to reach for the Force, pushing desperately at the pressure against her mind, the pain in her head flaring with each attempt.

The monster's hand drew closer to him.

"No!" she screamed, and the control panel near the scientist sparked, the muddling energy vanished, and Ahsoka could call upon the Force with all her power to throw at the woman--

Who wasn't there.

Chapter Text

"Ashla."

His voice was so distant. She was falling asleep. Why she and not her brother?

"Sister," he pleaded. "Sister, I have seen Ahsokah. She has a Valkare."

She opened her eyes, startled. So soon? "Tell me."

The Son kneeled beside her, and now she saw the cup he was holding in both hands, so as not to spill it.

"Water? The same Water you poured at my feet on Dathomir, when I offered it? Need I remind you how it warped the very essence of that place?"

He sighed. "You must know what it took-- how begrudgingly I asked Father. Must I say it?"

Ashla gave the tiniest nod.

"I am sorry," he said, and the words sounded like they hurt to speak. Perhaps they did hurt him. It was hard to tell, anymore. She closed her eyes and sipped, handing the cup back to him. 

In her memory, faded with so much time, drinking Water had been an empty and hollow ritual. In her memory, her bond with her brother had never been much more than a very powerful Force-bond. Her memory had been wrong.

Yes, she knew now, it had hurt him to say sorry.

He was no less capable of regret than she-- nor was she any less capable of resentment than he was. The difference was in what their presences kept trapped, at their centers. He had to fight to express the very same things that, within her, were all she could show anyone. The things he hid were the things that, within her, kept her own secrets hidden. It was one thing to know she was a reflection of him. It was another thing entirely to feel it, as she hadn't felt it in eons.

He stared at her with the same understanding, and she knew he felt it too. She smiled.

There was no need for words. It was a feeling better described purely in the language of the Force.

"What form did Ahsokah's Valkare take?" Ashla asked instead.

"A nexu. Soli, Ahsokah named her."

A nexu. Fierce, definitely. A little on the temperamental side of things-- she could imagine Jedi Master Kenobi feeling uneasy, but it brought her more joyous amusement than anything else. A quieter illustration of Ahsokah's energy simply wouldn't have suited her. There was nothing pernicious or deceitful about a nexu, which would have concerned Ashla far more. If she felt troubled at all, it was over something else: "She should have been here. I told her master... Was she alright? Was she frightened?"

"She will be here soon enough, and you can ask her yourself."

She would? Ashla stared at him, stunned. "You have foreseen it?"

"Yes, I have foreseen it."

"When?"

Her brother smiled. "Presently," he assured her. "Patience belongs to you, does it not?"

Ahsoka's brush glided across the paper, painting in red for the lips. Then, she put it down with a perplexing air of finality.

"That's it?"

"That's what I saw." She was remarkably calm now, especially for someone who had overcome a Force-dampening field and destroyed the experimental prototype that had been generating it, much to the annoyance of the scientists. Soli's presence seemed to relax her immensely. Morai can be far away from Ashla. I wonder why Ahsoka and Soli are so reluctant to be apart.

He stared at the blank face on the paper. "Her eyes looked like that? Just lines?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen her before?"

"No."

"And she spoke to you."

Ahsoka nodded. "She got angry when I didn't answer her. She called me by my name...the way a Togruta would say it. The way my family says it."

Obi-Wan frowned. "I still don't understand how you could have a vision when you couldn't access the Force."

"It is odd," she agreed. "I'm never going in one of those again. I hated it."

She and Anakin were remarkably similar, he thought. In some ways. In others...

Abruptly, Ahsoka snatched the paper from his hand, crumpling it before he could react. "Get rid of it. I don't want her sitting in all my futures."

Barriss stared at the holographic image of the protest. She hadn't meant to click on the article. Actually, come to think of it...why had she--

"END THE WAR NOW" read one of the signs. "WHERE ARE THE PEACEKEEPERS?" read another. She frowned. I am a peacekeeper, part of her wanted to protest. But...was she? Keeping the peace by fighting? Allowing innocents to be harmed in a conflict most of them never asked for?

Are we really peacekeepers?

No, she realized. There was no denying it. They were just a part of the Republic's army. Not true followers of the Force.

But everyone around her was so consumed by the delusion that this was righteous, blind as she had been. They'd all lost there way, and no one seemed to see it save for her.

You are alone.

The control panel by her door chimed. Quickly, she shut off the holopad. Maybe it was Master Luminara; maybe she finally actually had time to talk to Barriss and she could answer these questions and explain everything the way she always did. "Come in!" she said.

Her heat sank. It wasn't her master who walked through the doorway, but Ahsoka. Well, she tried to cheer herself up, it would be nice to talk to her friend.

"Hi," she said giving a tentative smile. "Sorry, I know it's been a while. Um, I was wondering if you'd want to sit in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and catch up? I...well, I really need some friendly advice cause I'm supposed to choose a master tomorrow, and...yeah, I have no idea who to pick."

Barriss frowned. "Can't we just talk here?"

Ahsoka stepped aside slightly to reveal the nexu standing behind her. "A little crowded?"

An odd feeling came over her, looking at the nexu-- a confused mixture of pride and delight.

"Right. Soli. Of course, we'll go there."

Ahsoka frowned slightly. "How do you know Soli's name?"

"Well everyone's been talking about you." Although...Barriss tried to think of a time when she'd actually heard 'Soli' and not 'Ahsoka's nexu' and she couldn't. Well, she'd heard it talked about a lot of times; she was probably just forgetting. "She's so beautiful!"

"Huh," she said, surprised. "I didn't think you'd-- well, thank you."

"So," Barriss prompted as they walked. "It's Master Obi-Wan, Master Windu, and Master Ti, right?"

"Right."

"Have you tried making a list of the pros and cons of each option?"

Ahsoka gaped at her. "I-- no, I haven't tried making a list. Lists are terrifying! I'm already thinking about it; why would I want to stare at it too?"

Well that's Ahsoka for you. "Well, maybe you're overthinking it," she said. "I'm sure you could learn a lot from any of them. Besides," she heard herself say, "think how much you've learned about the Force just from your own experience. Maybe the master you have doesn't matter as much as you think."

A flicker of doubt crossed her mind, growing into dread. She'd said the wrong thing.

"I think you might be right. Thanks, Barriss."

"That's what friends are for, Ahsokah," she said brusquely. "I have to go." Ignoring the concerned look she could feel following after her, she fled from the room.

Chapter Text

Anakin had always loved Padme's presence in the Force; it reminded him of flowers, but not in a contrived way. Of course, he knew it was still there, but it was invisible to him now.

Before, he'd always woken up when she did.

Today, though, she was already in the kitchen drinking a cup of caf. "Good morning," he said, trying to tell himself that the new structure of his life, or rather, lack thereof, would come to feel normal. Eventually.

She didn't smile at him. "You need to look at the news."

Anakin frowned, connecting to the HoloNet, wondering what this was about, and doing his best to ignore the sinking feeling that he already knew who this was going to concern. "What, the Senate?" he asked, almost hopeful that maybe she wanted to talk about politics, after all, even when that led to uncomfortable disagreements like--

She shook her head. "Scroll down."

"Padawan Tano First Togruta to Be Designated Multiconscious Being - CoruscantDaily"

"Sentient Nexu? - GoodMorningGalaxy" The article was accompanied by a grainy holoimage of Ahsoka walking up the steps of the Temple, a nexu behind her.

"Oh Force." She goes on meditation leave, kriffing meditation leave, and--

The more her connection to the Force grew, the more he felt like she was slipping away. He stared into his cup of caf, trying to let the warmth on his face calm him. His face was reflected on the dark surface, making his eyes look like two empty holes. He shuddered.

"Ani? Is that alright with you?" Padme's voice said distantly.

"Sure," he said, tearing his eyes away from his reflection.

"Aren't you going to have breakfast?"

"I'm going to go lay down for a bit," he said.

She frowned. "If you're not feeling well, then we probably shouldn't have them over for dinner."

Oh. So that had been what she'd been asking him. "It's fine. I just didn't sleep well last night. Besides, I literally can't remember the last time Ahsoka was sick. I don't think Force-Wielders get colds."

Ahsokah?

Ahsokah?

Did her montrals deceive her? No, no, Barriss had drawn out the 'a', the pitch of her voice dropping just so.

Ahsoka frowned. No matter how many times she recalled the moment, she was sure that was what Barriss had said. Ahsokah.

Like the monster she'd seen in the lab had said.

The woman, Ahsoka couldn't quite get out of her head. She knew visions. She was oh so familiar with what a vision felt like, and this hadn't felt like that.

"Ahsokah," she'd cooed, voice dripping with apparent affection. Ahsoka couldn't stomach that the thing had felt that towards her, whether it was false or real in some twisted and terrible way.

And Ahsoka didn't know if it was, because she hadn't felt the woman. Not even a little. The Force had been as blank as her face. How could she be a vision without the Force?

Ahsoka did not want to follow that thought to its natural conclusion. She shifted her inner monologue back to Barriss.

Barriss, who shouldn't have known Soli's name. Barriss, whose presence had felt, well, just a little different, off in a way she couldn't pinpoint.

Barriss, who could not pronounce 'ah'. Barriss, who had uncharacteristically told her her master wouldn't matter.

"Padawan Tano, are you listening?"

"Sorry, Master Windu," Ahsoka said, forcing her thoughts back to the present. "I guess I'm a little distracted. The...hallucination I had earlier...I can't stop thinking about it."

He considered her. "Let's see if you can shield that thought, then."

Ahsoka closed her eyes to begin the task of organizing the contents of her mind. It was harder to hide a thought she was actively fixating on, so Ahsoka created a wall around some of her other thoughts: thoughts of missing Anakin. And within that, another wall around her conversation with Barriss. 

Then, a different set of concentric walls, around some other snippets of her day. More walls. Diversions. A maze. Then, the thought she truly wanted to protect, nestled just between where two of the circles touched.

"I'm ready," she said without opening her eyes.

His presence brushed against hers. Or it would have if hers was solid and well-defined like most people's but it might have been more accurate to say that it hovered in the fuzzy space that was not quite her and not quite the Force around her. He'd been very clear, from the beginning of her training that he would never look at her actual thoughts. Instead, he observed the structures she created with them, and critiqued. Usually, he found a lot to critique.

Of course, if he were really someone trying to invade her thoughts, her first line of defense would have been to shove the intruding presence away, a capability which she thought he discounted too readily. She didn't think most people, even Force-adepts, could get anywhere near her presence if she didn't want them too. Not to mention, the part of her presence that gave her her Sight could function as a particularly prickly barrier if she brought it to the edge of her presence. Admittedly, she couldn't do that in the Temple if she wanted to remain a member of the Order, but against a Sith? She had fewer reservations.

"Better. Now, try to visualize more variety than just circles. And you're ready to start thinking of three-dimensional constructions."

Ahsoka had been doing this long enough to know that this was practically a compliment. "Thank you for the lesson, Master," she said, inclining her head, and turning to leave.

"Padawan?"

She paused. "Yes?"

"Are you alright? After what happened with the Force-dampening field?"

Ahsoka nodded. "I guess...it's just...it scares me. What happens when I can't reach the Force. And...the idea of what Anakin did--" She involuntarily tugged on the place in her mind where their bond had been. "I think he can tell how I feel, and he thinks that I pity him, or that I look down on him for not having the Force. Those things are wrong. But I don't think that's what I'm doing, I just--" she sighed. "I don't understand. And I worry. The Force is in pain around him."

Mace Windu sighed. She'd never seen him look so...tired. "Your presence is different. Your reaction to being cut off from the Force is also different. But you are right: what Skywalker did was wrong. And dangerous."

She couldn't help but think, as she walked back to her room, that Anakin had always been more like her than anyone else.

There was a message waiting on her comlink, from Padme: "Hi, Ahsoka. I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner this evening. I know it's short notice, but Anakin and I would love to see you. Both of you, if you're feeling up to it."

Soli licked her paw. "I think a distraction would be great right now."

"Wait, there are other Force beings?" Anakin tried his best to look at Ahsoka while she recounted her visit to Atollon, but it was hard not to stare at the nexu, who was currently eyeing their mouse droid as though she wanted to pounce on it.

"That's what Bendu said."

Anakin frowned. The idea of there being more than just her family (which was already concerning enough in its own right, frankly) just wandering around with the casual power to upend the galaxy as they knew it was not an appealing one. "Are they dangerous?"

"Well think about it. My family lives on Mortis. Bendu lives on Atollon. I guess maybe most of them wouldn't interact with anyone unless their world was disturbed," Ahsoka pointed out, like that was supposed to make him feel better. "Anyway, Obi-Wan thinks that if something was going to happen, it would have happened by now."

Her logic was sound enough; her family had been around for millennia. Even Padme looked reassured. But Anakin couldn't shake the feeling that the universe had eyes, their gazes pressing on him from a thousand dark corners in the space around him.

"Anakin?"

"Ahsoka, what if the Force isn't good?" he blurted.

She stared at him.

"I mean, the Order talks about balance, but-- but all it seems to create is chaos. I mean, a galaxy full of creatures that can destroy us with a thought? Why would it do that to us?"

She furrowed her brow. "I don't know. But the Force has to be good. It-- Anakin, if it wasn't...I can't...I can't do what you did."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Thankfully, she didn't ask whether he was sorry for what he'd said, or sorry that she would sooner be able to survive without her heart than her connection to the Force. "I miss you," she said. Tears pooled in her eyes, trailing down her face like the tails of comets, because of course they would, dotting the rim of her dark plate like stars, pooling into a glittering lake.

For one brief and terrible moment, he imagined taking the plate from her and tipping the pool of silver down his throat.

"I miss you too," he said.

"Well. We should go," Ahsoka said. "Thanks for dinner."

"You're welcome any time," Padme told her.

Anakin watched her go in silent relief. All he wanted to do was lay down. Padme didn't say anything about him leaving her to wash the dishes by herself-- he certainly didn't want to look at Ahsoka's tears again-- but he still felt guilty. And she probably knew that, and that was why she didn't say anything. She was so good at knowing what he was feeling. How did she do it?

He avoided meeting the eyes of his own reflection as he got ready, and he didn't turn the light off as he climbed into bed. He laid there curled up, almost hugging his knees to his chest, but he didn't sleep.

He remembered why he'd done this. To save Ahsoka. So she could be a Jedi, free from the fear of him Falling. So why did it hurt so terribly to see her doing exactly that? Why did he wish she would follow him?

What felt like hours later (his sense of time had been so much better with the Force to help), he felt her sit down beside him. "You're still awake."

"It feels so strange. It's like she's a stranger to me, Padme. Ahsoka's not a dinner guest-- she's my padawan."

She turned off the light before laying down. He wished she hadn't done that. The darkness seemed to swirl in front of his vision. "Isn't it better than not seeing her at all? At least you can still be--"

"She was like a little sister to me, Padme."

"Was?"

"It's different now. So much of it was teaching her, and our bond, the closeness we felt in the Force."

Padme was quiet for a minute. "She's close with Rex, isn't she?"

He sighed. "Yeah, well, even they can sense each other. We're not really sure how. It started as her being able to speak to him telepathically, but after she healed him..." Anakin sighed, remembering how Ahsoka had been reprimanded by the Council for letting Ventress get away in the time she'd been saving Rex, and how she hadn't cared even a little. "Honestly? No one would ever admit it, but it's likely Rex is mildly Force-sensitive."

"Okay, why are you trying so hard to make everything about the Force?"

"I'm not trying!" Anakin protested. "Everything is about the Force with her."

"You're never going to be able to find a way to reconnect with her if you're that convinced that you can't. Look, Ani, I was there at dinner. And I'm pretty sure she still loves you like a brother."

Why didn't she understand? Ahsoka missed her master. He was just a ghost to her.

And there was nothing he could do to change that.

Ahsoka looked through the Force at Anakin as she left, but as always, there was no darkness. Just emptiness.

Shadows like all the other shadows on Coruscant, merely the manifestation of the whole place being under the influence of a Sith.

Wait--

No, there was something else. Not Anakin, but elsewhere, a flicker of something different. A darkness that did not belong with the rest.

She peered at it, searching for the presence it belonged to. It was so familiar, yet--

Ahsoka was pushed backward, out of her own vision.

Narrowing her eyes, she walked down the apartment steps, letting the emotions from seeing Anakin focus her Sight.

Again, the shadow pushed her away before she could look at it properly.

"What don't you want me to See?" she frowned. She looked again, and the darkness collapsed and vanished. Sighing, she walked back to the Temple. She needed to make a decision about a master.

"Wait," Soli said. "I sense--" She bolted back down the Temple steps, parting a crowd of evening sightseers.

And Ahsoka didn't need the Force to see Barriss disappearing round the corner.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka touched her hands to her glowing montrals, as if that might help lessen their brightness.

Unfortunately, her montrals were not one of the fires they sometimes lit when they had to make camp away from the ship, and all she achieved was to mess up her echolocation and make herself a little dizzy for a moment. Anyway, her hands were glowing too. All of her was glowing, more brightly than usual.

Ahsoka might have been a Togruta, able to walk almost silently, but Barriss would definitely notice the glow behind her in the dimming light.

She wasn't entirely sure what caused the inconsistencies in her presence, visually. Her emotional state definitely affected it, but sometimes, like now, she was pretty calm. Maybe it's just random chance. It did tend to be more prominent when she was engaged in some sort of confrontation, even if she didn't get emotional about it. Some kind of defensive reflex? But for what? It wasn't like it actually helped with anything. More often than not, it was like this; a nuisance.

She closed her eyes, feeling the overabundance of Force energy inside her too. She tried using her Sight again, staring at the alleyway Barriss had just vanished down, and--

A dizzying pain stabbed at her leg, and she shivered, a sudden cold--

Ahsoka leapt backward, feeling as if she'd been burnt. She saw visions from an outsider perspective, sometimes, like watching a holofilm, or through her own eyes, but never from the point of view of someone else like this. It felt wrong. Her stomach turned, and she fell to her knees with the distinct sense that the dinner she'd just eaten was about to end up in front of her on the duracrete.

"I'm here," Soli assured her. "Do you--"

Ahsoka closed her eyes again, reaching. She covered her face with her hands, pressing against her eyes until bright colors filled her vision, pushing against the wall she seemed to meet.

"Ahsokah, I don't think--"

A dizzying pain stabbed at her leg, and she shivered, a sudden cold blossoming in the Force. She looked down at the two dots of blood, and a black and red tail slid around the corner...

Ahsoka held onto the vision this time--even as she met that wall that felt like scorching iron, even as the twisted wrongness gnawed at her.

And suddenly, the barrier broke, the veil lifted, the pieces of a cold and merciless reality laying themselves out before her eyes.

The shadows looked like puppet strings.

They were not being held by the hand of a Sith.

What have you done?

The Son's gaze met hers through the Force for one terrible instant-- and Ahsoka looked at him in blank confusion, unable to fathom how or why he would betray her so utterly. And in that moment of uncertainty and feeling so utterly lost and directionless, the intentionality of looking crumbled. The control over her Sight she had practiced and refined for the past month slipped, and Ahsoka felt herself fade away.

"Twenty," said Fives triumphantly.

"Twenty two," Rex countered."

Fives made an exaggerated pouting face. "How come you always win?"

"I don't always win."

"He always wins," Charger countered.

"Maybe we let you win," Jesse suggested.

He snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Hey, at least the Commander's not playing," Briar said.

Rex crossed his arms. "Jedi shouldn't be allowed to play sabacc."

"Officially, we aren't allowed to play sabacc using our rations for bets," Echo pointed out.

"And where's the fun in that?" Fives protested. "I can handle missing out on some dessert rations. They're barely good anyway."

"I bet tomorrow he'll beg Ahsoka to sneak him some of those wasaka berry tarts from the Temple refectory," Rex told them.

"Ahsoka?" Echo challenged.

"Ahsoka?" Briar echoed.

Oh kriff. "I--"

"We call each other by our names while we're playing sabacc. Why should the Commander be any different?" Fives argued, giving Rex a 'seriously, what were you thinking' look, even as he leapt to defend him.

"Because we're clones and she's a Jedi?" Charger offered. "And she's not here."

"I don't think she'd be upset," Fives countered. "Jesse, what do you think?"

"Maybe you could ask Soli, because she's at the window," Jesse said, pointing.

Rex looked up with everyone else.

"Aaaaand I'm out," Charger said quickly, making for the door. "Not a cat person."

For a moment, Rex regretted the 'no rank at the sabacc table' norm he'd established, tempted to scold him for the comment. Soli wasn't just some annoying pet the Commander kept around. Maybe he'd talk to all the men about it tomorrow.

Echo was already up, opening the latch on the window. "How'd she get up here?"

"Not sure. Maybe she climbed the scaffolding?" Fives suggested.

The nexu leapt into the room, whining and leaping, pawing at his ankles. She ran to the door, then back to him. Then to the door again, tail waving, almost in a beckoning motion.

"Follow her," Rex decided.

Soli gave a sharp bark, maybe an affirmation? When Briar opened the door, she bolted out, and toward the lift. When the others made to follow her, however, she gave a low growl, pointing her tail at Rex.

"Just me?"

She barked again.

"Okay..."

He wasn't really supposed to be out this late, but he was pretty sure Soli wouldn't be doing this for some triviality.

A sense of fear welled up inside him. It took a moment to realize it came from her.

"Is she okay?" he asked anxiously.

Somehow he knew the answer. He quickened his pace to a jog.

Ahsoka was sitting on her knees, not far from the Temple steps. Her eyes were open but vacant; she looked like a statue. "Sir?" he said. "Ahsoka?"

She blinked. "Rex? But-- no, you're... You-- did you remove your chip?"

Chip?

"I was sure the Empire had killed you. I felt it."

"We need to get you back to the Temple," Rex decided.

Ahsoka shook her head. She was on her feet now. "I can help you." She stepped toward him, reaching out her hand until it rested on the side of his head.

"Ah--"

Her eyes closed, light gathering in her hand, and Rex felt something inside his head. Not her, telepathically but an actual physical feeling. It was like getting shocked by static electricity, except internally instead of on his hand, and it lasted only that long: a brief instant.

"What the kriff!?" he cried, leaping backward.

He didn't feel different.

"You're free now."

Somehow, he was struck by the profound feeling that this was true; a kernel of reality in her delusion. (Free from what?) he asked, wondering if she might respond better to telepathy.

Her eyes widened, filling with tears. "I missed you, Rex. I've been trying to talk to you all this time-- I knew it was the chip that was blocking our connection, I knew it wasn't you."

Chip again? What was she talking about?

"I knew," she whispered again, smiling. "I kn--"

She stopped. Opened her mouth. Closed it.

Then, her body crumpled to the ground.

Ahsoka regained her awareness painfully slowly, feeling what she could only describe as the psychic equivalent of pins and needles, struggling to readjust to the feeling of existing the way she was supposed to.

She couldn't remember the last time coming back had felt this difficult. Not since Krell, when she'd had no understanding of what exactly was happening to her and meditating was like falling asleep and not quite being able to wake up.

She tried to focus on Soli's fur against her legs. She could sense two presences. (Rex?)

(You with us, kid?)

(Mostly,) she said honestly. (Give me a minute. But keep talking to me; it helps.)

"Ahsoka, can you hear me?" Obi-Wan's voice said distantly.

(Yes, but I can't talk.) She tried to move, feeling as though she'd been frozen in a block of ice. (Can one of you do me a favor and just sort of lift my eyelids open for me so I don't have to stand here trying to figure out how to do it?)

"Stand? You're laying down," Rex told her. "She wants you to open her eyes, she says," he relayed to Obi-Wan.

Oh. Yeah, that explained why her back hurt.

"Okay," Obi-Wan said, and she felt something touch her eyelids and lift them. Ahsoka blinked a couple of times.

"Thanks," Ahsoka tried to say. It came out a cough. She hummed, and wiggled her toes and fingers. "Thank you."

There we go.

"Ahsoka, you were talking about 'the Empire' and a chip...?"

Ahsoka had been far too lost in the Force to have a memory of what she'd experienced, that was for sure. "I--"

"You used the Force to...I don't know what, but I felt a sort of spark in my head."

She sat up, horrified. "I did what?" Oh no, oh no...she'd used the Force? How? "But I don't know what I did--"

"You didn't hurt me. I can feel you enough that I would know," Rex said firmly. "Whatever you did, you meant well."

"Meant. But I might not even have known it was you." She clawed desperately at the empty space in her memory. If it had just been her and Rex, and he'd only called Obi-Wan afterward, there was no way of knowing, ever.

He shook his head. "You called me by name. You just acted like you hadn't seen me in a long time. I'll go see Kix and have him run a scan, Ahsoka, but I know you didn't hurt me. I just...know."

Could she have used the light side while her presence was so enveloped by the dark? Doubtful. So whatever she'd done...

What have you done?

The Son! Barriss--

"Master," she cried, struggling to gather her thoughts about anything other than Rex right now, "he possessed her-- or something like that, he's controlling her, we have to find her and..." And do what, Ahsoka?

"Mother will be able to help," Soli supplied.

"And bring her to Mortis-- to Ashla but you need to come with and distract him so he doesn't find her and do something worse. How long have I been out?"

They both stared at her in different variations of confusion.

Ahsoka got to her feet, pushing away what remained of her disorientation and dizziness. "The Son used his valkare to...cast a sort of shadow over Barriss' presence. I don't...know why, but...we have to do something." She swallowed. "Before she does."

Chapter Text

Anakin sat up gasping, the echo of fear in his mind leftover from a nightmare he couldn't remember. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, but he didn't feel tired.

Not wanting to wake Padme, he climbed carefully out of bed, stepping into the 'fresher to get a drink of water.

He cupped his hands and held them under the faucet, watching the water slowly spill out from between his palms.

"Skywalker..." a soft voice echoed.

A flash of red reflected in the water, and his eyes were drawn upward to the mirror.

A masked face stared back at him: a pale white mask with two grey dots for eves and cherry red lips painted on.

You're imagining things. He stared, waiting for the hallucination to go away.

"Questioning your sanity." The lips moved open and closed in rhythm with the words, but they didn't seem to shape any sounds. "Believing that nothing without the Force could defy your perceptions. This is a lie. I am real."

"What are you?" he choked out helplessly.

His own face stared back at him, the apparition gone.

Barriss Offee shifted uncomfortably in her seat. This place was uncomfortable and foreign to her; she never went out into the Undercity by herself. The patrons around her chattered-- some louder than others depending on how many drinks they'd ordered-- and Barriss couldn't stop her attention from wildly jumping to random snippets of conversation.

"Can I get you anything?"

Letta Turmond narrowed her eyes at Barriss. "I'll have a Jedi Mind Trick."

Was that meant to be an accusation? Or an attempt at humor? She didn't seem like the joking type. 

"I'll...just have a water," Barriss said.

"So." Letta stared across the table at her as if she wasn't quite sure what exactly she was looking at. "What do you want?"

Barriss wished she had an answer, but all she was having currently was a lot of second thoughts. Instead she said softly, "You're being watched by the Galactic Republic." Barriss pulled out the datacard from the pocket of her robes and pushed it across the table.

The gesture was met with a raised eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"

"No! No, I think it's wrong-- you haven't done anything, just criticized the war. And pointed out flaws in the Jedi Order-- legitimate ones."

"You're far more surprised by this than I am," she said mildly. "I still don't understand--"

She paused as the waitress returned. "Your cocktail, miss."

It was a translucent blue. Letta sipped it, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

"I agree that what the Order is doing is wrong. I want peace. I want to help you."

"Help me? A Jedi youngling?" She put down her glass. "Go back to your master," she advised.

"You think me a child?" The Order had taken that away from her-- the galaxy didn't get to send her to fight for them and then patronize her when she came back. She was to risk her life and they weren't even going to show her the respect of an adult. She flicked her wrist, channeling that rage.

Letta's glass shattered, blue liquid spilling onto her red top and the the yellow-brown table cloth. Heads turned in their direction.

The woman stared at her with wide, horrified eyes.

"I'm sure I can find a way to assist," she said, smiling cheerfully, sensing her fear-- something that had always felt like poison before-- and finding she enjoyed it.

She was still smiling when she left.

Stepping out into the cool night air, however, was like a slap in the face. Enjoying fear? That wasn't what this was supposed to be. "No, no, no." What are you doing, Barriss? This is about peace, isn't it? Of course it is, she answered herself. It won't happen again-- I'm just not used to controlling my anger instead of letting go of it.

She thought she felt a prickle of warning in the Force. Barriss looked up--

But there was no one there.

Rex frowned at her. "Am I supposed to understand any of what you just said?"

"There's no time to explain. Come on, Ahsoka. We have to tell the Council at once," Obi-Wan said.

The Council? Tell the Council about her family? Tell the Council both that she was part Force-wielder and that she was a Seer, that she'd taken lessons from the Son--

Ahsoka couldn't. "No. No, I can fix this."

He shook his head. "I've been lenient about telling the Council things, but this crosses a line. I'm sorry, Ahsoka."

She wouldn't.

But he took her by then hand, and they walked up the Temple steps.

(Ahsoka?) Rex sent across their bond.

(I'll be okay.)

There was nothing okay about this.

She let Obi-Wan talk, feeling frozen where she was, even when he looked to her for help for the parts he struggled to remember-- like fragments of a dream to him.

Listening to him talk was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She thought that anyway, until the Council started asking her questions.

"His valkare poisoned her?"

"Is this a capability all valkare possess?"

"Does Soli?"

"No!" Ahsoka cried, except all that came out was a wordless scream.

A crack split the stone in the center of the floor.

Twelve pairs of eyes widened.

"Ahsoka," Obi-Wan said warningly. "Ahsoka, you're making this worse." he whispered urgently for only her to hear.

Like he wasn't the one who had brought her here. "No! You're making it worse! You always make everything worse!"

With a sound like a thunder clap, the ceiling cracked along five lines radiating out from its center. "I'm not doing anything-- I didn't mean-- it's not me!"

Her voice rose, echoing through the room, met only by silence.

There was a final loud crack! 

"No!"

"Ahsokah?" a hand gently touched her face. "Was it another nightmare?"

Another-- the words sounded blurry, muffled.

Nor was she able to answer. It was her, and yet she was floating above herself, not herself. She was small-- I should be bigger.

But she couldn't place where the thought came from. Slowly, it faded away.

Mama? Mama. I'm scared.

"Efron, I can feel her fear. It's more than just my intuition-- she tells me."

"We might have to think about bringing her to Coruscant," another voice said. It was muffled too, but deeper. Her papa.

Her eyes fell on her cup on the counter. Maybe if she had a drink of water she could go back to sleep. She reached out a hand, trying to pull it toward her.

"No!" Mama cried. "No, I'm not giving my daughter to the Jedi!" Ahsokah didn't know what most of those words meant, but she felt a sudden ache in her chest. 

The cup fell to the ground and broke into pieces with a loud sound even her tiny montrals had no trouble hearing.

Efron sighed. "We can't teach her."

"We'll find Ash--"

Ahsoka's head almost fell forward from the new weight she found on it. Frowning, she reached up to feel that not only were her montrals were a lot larger than she remembered from a moment ago (no, wait, that didn't make sense-- why would they have been smaller only a moment ago?), but they were also adorned with something that wasn't her akul teeth-- something metal, with dangling stone pendants.

"Are you alright, Your Luminance?"

She blinked, looking at her surroundings. She was sitting on a sort of throne, on an elevated platform against a wall made out of-- was that kyber?-- so that the crystals amplified and distributed her glow all around the room.  In front of her were steps that lead down to the main part of the room. In the doorway were two people in red armor, who she could only assume were guards. She turned to stare at the woman standing next to her. She was a Human in a brown blouse and skirt with turquoise embroidery on the waist.

Ahsoka stared down at her own outfit. It was a shimmery turquoise with gold accents-- it practically hurt her eyes to look at-- and it looked so strange on her. "What?"

"If Your Luminance can find it in herself to forgive me, I only meant to ask if my goddess is prepared to speak with His Imperial Majesty's next subject."

Goddess? Imperial-- "I-- yes, I guess so?"

The woman placed a hand on a kyber pendant that hung around her neck, and it glowed.

Behind Ahsoka, the wall pulsed with the same light.

A moment later, a Twi'lek woman stepped through the doorway a young girl at her side. They knelt together at the bottom of the steps. Profoundly uncomfortable, Ahsoka wanted to tell them to get up, but just as she was about to, the mother lifted her head to speak to the woman standing next to Ahsoka. "I seek the aid and guidance of Her Benevolent Luminance, as a loyal follower of my Emperor, in humility and good faith."

"Speak, loyal follower," the Human said, in a manner that suggested she had said the words a thousand times.

Still neither of them looked at Ahsoka. "My daughter and I have had barely enough to eat ever since my husband joined the Infinite Song. If Her Benevolent Luminance would consider blessing us with a good harvest, it would be benefit to my whole community and we could better serve his Imperial Highness."

The spokeswoman frowned. "Only Her Luminance knows how you best serve." She turned to Ahsoka. "Does Your Divine Highness see fit to grant this follower your blessing?"

Ahsoka looked at her. She didn't want to say yes and validate whatever this...insanity that surrounded her was. But the woman's eyes were desperate.

In the moment of silence, the child's eyes glanced up for the briefest of seconds to peek at Ahsoka.

It was enough. The two guards stepped forward, blades drawn.

"No! I beg you, forgive us!" Even as she panicked, the woman's eyes remained devoutly averted. Ahsoka felt ill.

She stood. "Don't!" She called on the Force-- why did her connection feel dull as if she'd gone ages without using it?-- refusing to watch whatever horror was about to be committed in her name--

Ahsoka walked slowly down the staircase, the smell of rot and despair increasing with every step, until she reached the bottom, where she could scarcely breathe. Turning left, she found herself in a hallway awash with the glow of energy shields, reflecting slightly against the cold duracrete.

All the cells she passed were empty. Still, with every passing room she felt a rising sense of dread, because somewhere, somewhere, had to be--

"Hello, Padawan." Krell smiled at her, showing yellowing teeth. "Finally come to visit me?"

She swallowed.

"You were too late to stop me, Ahsoka. Even now, your mind reaches for the darkness of its own accord."

"I can control it now," Ahsoka hissed. "You've lost-- whatever you wanted, you didn't get it; I'm using my Sight to help the Order now."

"I was so close. One or two tries away from pushing you over an edge you couldn't just climb back up. But you were so stubborn. At least I have the pleasure of knowing, a year after thwarting me, you did succumb."

She stumbled backward. "What do you mean?"

"How did you get here, dear padawan? Can you tell me? Why did you come here? What events exactly lead up to this moment?"

Her eyes widened. "No. No!"

"This is a vision, Ahsoka. One you will not wake up from."

He gave a small Force-push, and Ahsoka fell backward, the prison cell dissolving into dust, into the endless embrace of the darkness.

Help me. Someone. Anyone.

Before I disappear too.

(Help me.) 

Sidious put down the report he was reading as he heard the cry echo through the dark side. Alone in his office, he raised an eyebrow. It appeared the poor Jedi was truly and properly lost.

Well, anyone could have seen that coming. She wasn't properly trained, after all. In fact, it was a wonder it hadn't happened sooner

He frowned, considering. On the one hand, she was the only one who might actually replace Skywalker as his eventual apprentice. She was powerful. But maybe too powerful. And not as easy to lure down the path as Anakin was. He hadn't had years to secure the role of confidant for her as he had for Anakin.

Her motives were not so easily guided.

And if she didn't escape-- if her presence was consumed by the dark side, he could gather up the resulting burst of energy to increase his own power.

He stared into the darkness, finding where she was-- oh, very much in the middle of nowhere and definitely far too distant from the Temple to find her way back. He traced the path it had traveled, searching through her visions. The clone's betrayal-- that was worrisome. A fiasco with the Council-- was the girl that afraid of herself? How pathetic. A sentimental memory.

He should just leave her--

"I only meant to ask if my goddess is prepared to speak with His Imperial Majesty's next subject."

How fascinating.

Darth Sidious closed his eyes, finding her in the Halls of Healing.

"She won't wake up. I don't know what else to do..." There was an idea in the back of Master Vokara Che's head, but it was still vague and fuzzy in her subconscious somewhere-- it had potential, and even better, it would likely leave Tano without any memory of her visions. He nudged ever so slightly.

"A Force-suppressant!" Master Che cried. "If she can't connect to the Force, she can't be trapped in a Force trance."

Obi-Wan hadn't mentioned that said trance was specifically a vision. He'd made a promise and he couldn't bring himself to break it, even when every logical part of him was telling him to do so. Somehow...

The meaning of her words sank in. "But she can't be without the Force! She almost died last time--"

Soli gave a low growl in apparent agreement. It was hard to tell. Rex was the best at interpreting for Soli. Obi-Wan could understand a litte, if he cleared his mind. Other than that, all anyone could get was a general sense of emotion.

"That's why I'll have the antidote ready. As soon as she's awake, I'll administer it. Master, do you have a better idea?"

He looked down at her. Lying there, she suddenly looked so fragile, even as one of the most powerful Jedi. It had been a day. A whole entire day. At first, she'd talked-- once she'd even almost woken up, addressing him and Rex, as if there was only a thin veil between her and reality. But as the hours had passed, she'd grown more and more still, and her breathing was becoming faint and shallow. There was nothing physically wrong with her, except that she seemed to just be fading away.

"No," he said. "I don't."

"Very well then."

Ashla frowned. "Brother?" she called, cautiously stepping over the threshold of the doorway to his castle. "Brother, I made the day anew, like you asked."

That she was even allowed to be here...she should have been repelled by the force of his darkness, unable to set foot in his domain. His presence felt weak, and the renewed sense of wholeness and unity had dulled.

"Why don't you fight to pull my light from the sky?" she whispered.

She found him in his throne room, staring out at the courtyard. Green plants were even beginning to sprout up there. It was wrong.

His hands clasped the windowsill as if it was some sort of anchor.

"You said Ahsokah would be here, and I--"

He inhaled sharply, as if suppressing a sob.

"Sister," he whispered voicelessly. "I-- she's...gone."

She reached out, stretching her awareness as far as she could to where she knew intuitively her daughter should be--

Ahsoka felt the Force torn from inside her, and a scream escaped her throat.

--and Ashla felt nothing.

Chapter Text

Barriss stared at her reflection.

She couldn't stop thinking of the way Letta had looked at her with utter terror and how wonderful it had felt.

This was supposed to be about peace. About reminding everyone what the Order is for.

No, but she could see what was happening now. She hadn't realized before, but if the dark side was going to make her forget that, then she was running out of time and whatever she was planning she needed to plan it now while she was still her and she could still convince herself that it was wrong to want people to fear her because that was against the thing she was trying to fix but that was where the power to fix it had to come from because the light side had abandoned them because they'd turned their backs on it when they'd agreed to become soldiers and now this was the only way and it was all the Council's--

"This isn't right."

Of course it is.

She didn't feel like herself. She wasn't herself, but it was a necessary sacrifice to make-- she was a sacrifice, her conscience was a sacrifice.

It wasn't new.

That was what she'd been every time they'd sent her off into battle.

Enough. She'd had enough, she thought feverishly. Looking down, she realized the report she was trying to write had lost its coherence five lines ago and her finger had been holding the same letter for the past minute.

She cursed, hurling the holopad across the room.

Sighing, she walked over to pick it up, bending down--

A jet black serpent with crimson stripes had somehow replaced it, triangular head lifted to hiss angrily at her, red eyes gleaming.

Barriss leapt backward, reaching for her lightsaber, pointing it at--

--at the holopad.

The Force was gone-- nothing-- she couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she reached out frantically and...

Soli.

Ahsoka was holding onto Soli, her hands touching the soft fur on the side of her neck, below her quills.

To look at her Valkare and feel nothing. Ahsoka could not have imagined anything more fundamentally wrong if she'd tried.

Master Che was saying something about an antidote...

The Force came back, not gradually at all, but suddenly, painfully, a blinding flash of awareness that left her stunned and dizzy, staring into Soli's eyes.

"I'm here. I'm here."

"Ahsoka?" She hadn't even noticed Obi-Wan. He was looking at her like...oh no, he was giving her that look. The look he always gave her when he'd been slapped in the face particularly hard with her lack of normalcy. What did I do this time?

"Padawan Tano?"

Ahsoka looked at the three of them. She couldn't bring herself to let go of Soli yet. "What happened?"

She'd been unconscious for almost a full day.

They thought she couldn't meditate properly, that her spirit had somehow strayed too far from her body when she'd reached out to the Force--

The dark side, Soli clarified for her. A vision. Or a series of visions. She'd been walking back to the Temple after her visit with Anakin, she'd tried to divine why Barriss had been leaving the Temple. She'd encountered some sort of wall, blocking her perception-- Soli could only assume she'd overcome it and then gotten stuck.

They'd had to block her connection to the Force to wake her up, Obi-Wan continued, giving her a significant look: I have to lie in front of her, but we are going to be talking later--

And that was all the answer she was going to get, because her own memory was providing nothing, and Master Che was now interrogating her as to how she felt, and saying she needed to take this seriously because she'd almost died. And she needed to be more careful because her spiritual and physical existence were more intertwined than most people's and while some Jedi might be able to maintain trances for days on end, teetering between life and death, "You, clearly, have to be more careful." Master Che sighed, her voice softening. "There are some limits we aren't meant to test. Venturing that far into the Force..." She shook her head. "You're only a Padawan."

I'm worried about you.

Ahsoka did what she was apt to do with other people's worries when they pertained to her. She brushed them aside. "I'm alright, Master Che. Really."

Never mind the feeling that came with having been immersed in the dark side like that. It wasn't as bad as she'd ever experienced, certainly not as bad as a couple of the times when she'd been led there by Krell, but it was the worst she'd felt since then. It was difficult to actually look at things; using her actual eyes felt odd and so much more exhausting than it would be to just use the Force and her echolocation. There were pins and needles in her feet when she walked, her head ached, and she felt nauseous.

She knew from experience that the best way to handle the last thing was to eat, but everything else she simply had to handle until it abated.

If she wasn't alright, she would be. She could manage.

She just had to make sure this didn't happen again.

Barriss had admitted to herself that she was hallucinating.

It was the same thing, every time. Everything the wrong colors was a serpent, briefly: a black holopad with the red buttons on the side, some poor initiate's black pair of boots with red stitching, a quilt hanging in one of the hallways.

She'd studied healing for too long not to know that that wasn't normal.

What she didn't know was what to do about it. If she went to a mind healer, they might sense that she was using the dark side. And there was nothing to say this wasn't directly related to using the dark side... She didn't know. She really didn't know anything about the dark side at all. And she couldn't exactly ask--

Except. There was--

Can I trust her?

Barriss took a deep breath. I'll get some rest-- nothing bad can happen while I'm asleep. I'll decide what to do in the morning.

To Ahsoka's relief, Master Che let her leave the next morning.

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan wasn't as easily placated.

"I'm telling you again, I don't remember anything; I only know what Soli told me. But I know better now--"

He looked at her carefully. She looked down at her paper, making another smooth stroke with her paintbrush. "I want us to go back to Mortis. Just to be sure."

Were they really about to have this argument on opposite sides as last time? She stared at him. "You want to go back," she echoed.

"I only remember pieces of what I was told on that planet, and I'm certain that some what I'm forgetting is important."

She couldn't help but give a snort of amusement at that. "Now you know how I feel. All the time."

"Ahsoka, you almost died. You can't expect me not to take that seriously. I thought you wanted to go back."

That's the problem. Now more than ever, Ahsoka felt a longing so profound it was like closing her eyes might transport her there. "Maybe you could go."

Immediately after she said it, she knew he couldn't. She found herself with an unshakeable certainty that the planet would not be there waiting for him if he went alone.

"He's right. You know he's right." Soli said.

"Ahsoka--"

"Let's leave tomorrow morning," she agreed reluctantly.

Barriss couldn't believe she was here. To ask Ahsoka about...this.

You could turn around and go back to your quarters.

Too late. She tapped on the doorbell button.

"Enter."

Ahsoka's quarters were rather messy. Papers and datacards and holobooks were scattered across her desk. So many papers. She seemed to be trying to clean and pack at the same time, Soli watching uhelpfully as she lay in a patch of light coming in through the window.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Mhm. It's a training thing. With Master Obi-Wan. I told the Council yesterday-- I think he's the best person to carry on my training."

"That's great," Barriss said, trying to sound interested. "So are you still going to be with the 501st, or?"

She bit her lip. "They haven't figured out what to do with the 501st yet," she said anxiously.

"Oh. Ahsoka, I...was wondering if I could ask about your experience with the dark side."

Ahsoka's demeanor changed instantly, her posture shifting from relaxed to defensive, her presence prickly. I could have asked that more tactfully. "Why?" she asked sharply.

"I want to understand better. I want to hold less judgement. Given my aspirations to be a Healer," she explained hastily.

She considered Barriss with narrowed eyes. She turned away, clearly aware of the lie.

You messed that up. And possibly your entire friendship

But then she said quietly, "okay. What do you want to know?"

"Just...what was it like? What did it feel like? Is it the way they describe or--"

"No," she responded adamantly. "No, the Council people have no kriffing idea. Cold? Angry? That's not how it feels when you use it. It feels like...drowning. Like everything around you is falling away. Like you can't tell if it's them or you that's getting farther away but there's a distance where there didn't used to be, and you can't think clearly anymore, and you can't make eye contact with strangers anymore, because you think they're all having the same terrible thoughts you're having, and people aren't people anymore, they're just reflections of your own fear and guilt."

"How did you stay yourself?"

She responded as before, without a moment's hesitation. "I didn't."

Barriss swallowed. "But you--" She hadn't known Ahsoka, had she? Before. It had never occurred to her that the Ahsoka she knew was in any way a product of the dark side. The room seemed to tilt. "So it's hopeless."

Ahsoka seemed to catch on that Barriss wasn't asking about her, really. "For who?" she asked carefully.

"Ahsoka, I--"

Her right leg burned with pain. She stifled a cry. No, no, no, I have to-- f--

Chapter Text

Ahsoka had never felt anything quite like this in the Force.

It worried her, the particular sense of wrongness in her friend's flickering presence. She was trying to pinpoint it, but it was too overwhelming. Too chaotic. She couldn't look at it clearly. It made her uneasy.

"So it's hopeless."

Ahsoka frowned. That...wasn't what she'd been trying to say. "For who?"

Are we talking about me? Because it sounds like you're talking about--

"I--" Barriss fidgeted with the hilt of her lightsaber. "How did you stop using it?"

Uh oh. She definitely didn't have an answer to that one. Suddenly feeling like she'd already said too much, Ahsoka averted her eyes. "Well, I..."

"Talk about Anakin," Soli suggested.

"My master...having someone who actually cared about me..."

"The dark side is about fear and Anakin made me feel safe,"

Ahsoka copied that verbatim-- anyway it was mostly true. Mostly.

Barriss' brow furrowed. "The other padawans are talking about how he abandoned the Order."

Of course they were, she thought, turning away. She didn't care. She resolved not to care. She-- she wished Barriss hadn't used the word abandoned.

"It is a bit odd that both of your masters left, isn't it?"

Ahsoka whirled back around. Barriss may well have punched her.

Her green eyes widened. "I didn't mean--"

"I have to finish packing."

Ahsoka could feel her emotions overwhelming her. She tried to calm herself, to remind herself that this was her subconscious mind's way of trying to protect her, by turning the energy of her presence into something fiery that felt like spark is her fingertips.

Barriss was still standing there. Isn't it odd? Did they leave because of you?

Soli growled, and Barriss finally stumbled out the door, trying to say something, but Ahsoka couldn't hear because she was thinking of his voice, constantly battering against her montrals, trying to make her angry enough to create the power he wanted from her--

She flung out a hand, and shadows burst from the floor like a miniature fountain.

She didn't have to voice the feeling of betrayal. Soli felt it too. She was subdued as she settled herself to watch Ahsoka continue packing.

"Dissolve the 501st?"

Rex tried to keep his voice calm like everyone else's in the room, but it was the future of his entire legion! And they were all talking as if this was a conversation about the weather.

"We're already short on Jedi," General Ti said. "There's no one we can reassign to serve as a General."

The Chancellor looked bored.

General Windu nodded. "There's no option except to reorganize. We'll find places for your men in other units."

"Sir, we've spent a year-- some of us more-- training together. That's not a dynamic that can be easily replaced--"

"I understand, but it's simply not possible to keep you all together," General Windu said gently.

"Have you consulted Commander Tano on this matter?" he demanded.

Was it just him or did the room respond to this question with a collective sigh? The Councilmembers looked at each other doubtfully.

"...It might be possible to reorganize in a way that would allow more of them to remain together," General Fisto said.

The Chancellor raised a hand. "If I may make a suggestion, perhaps we should give Captain Rex a promotion."

"Your Excellency?"

"You and Tano will each command a division of the 501st."

Heads turned in his direction. General Windu cleared his throat: "But Your Excellency--"

"Is that even allowed?" Rex wondered.

He held up a hand. "I lead the Grand Army of the Republic, do I not? The 501st has an outstanding record; it would be a shame to...what was it, General? Ah, yes...reorganize?"

Ahsoka stared out of the viewport. She'd always enjoyed doing so, as far as she could remember-- Master Plo even said she'd found the kaleidoscopic light of hyperspace entrancing as a child when he'd brought her to the Temple.

Soli liked hyperspace travel too; she had curled up and quickly fallen asleep to the sound of the engines, purring occasionally. "Ahsoka? There's a holocall for you. It's from Rex."

She leapt out of her seat. His new assignment! "How'd it go?" she asked earnestly as she struggled to read his expression in the hologram. Hopefully--

"If I'm being honest, it was kind of odd."

"In what way? Just tell me what they said?"

"They made me a Commander."

"Oh? That's...good. But...who will you be--"

"Basically, we'll be answering to General Kenobi and Commander Cody, but we won't have our own General."

Ahsoka frowned, trying to contain her elation. It sounded too good to be true. "We? You're not being reassigned? If I didn't know better I'd say you were joking. The Council is never so accommodating."

"It wasn't the Council. It was the Chancellor's idea."

"The Chancellor?" she echoed. Huh.

"The Council wasn't too happy about it. That's what was weird-- he claimed it was about not wanting to disband one of the best legions in the GAR, but it seemed like he was doing this for you. I don't think he was even paying attention until I mentioned you."

The Chancellor rearranging commands just to make her happy? Yeah, right. "Don't be silly."

"I'm serious. I don't like this. It just seems too...convenient."

"Look, I'm sure he had other reasons. Force, what are you doing looking for things to worry about? You just got promoted! Go and celebrate!"

She could still hear the reluctance in his voice as he said, "Alright, I guess there's no reason to complain. Good luck with training...where did you say you were going?"

"Tython."

"See you soon, then."

"You too, Commander Rex."

Ahsoka grinned at Obi-Wan, who did not return her smile. "Oh, not you too," she groaned. "Did you really want me commanding the 212th? Can you imagine mediating arguments between me and Cody?"

That elicited a laugh. "No. I can't, actually. You know, this means you can't tell Rex what to do anymore."

"That never really did feel right," she said seriously. She was glad for Rex as much as herself-- she hoped he knew that.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, blinking, and turned to find his padawan doing the same. Just as had happened last time, the last thing he could remember was the monolith and the flash of light, and then...

Well, consistency was good.

A flash of lightning briefly lit the silhouettes of dead plants outside.

"I think we're staying here for the mom-- Ahsoka?"

She was making her way toward the ramp, undeterred.

"I don't think we--"

Her frowned at the way her glow cut through the darkness, at Soli flicking her tail back and forth, anxious to leave the cramped shuttle.

"I'll wait here," he said instead.

She frowned, not understanding.

"Ahsoka, I can't."

It dawned on her then. He expected impatience, or maybe annoyance, but she sat down, legs crossed. "Then I'll wait with you."

Chapter Text

Ashla had never wanted to leave Mortis before.

Her daughter had apparently vanished from existence, only to reappear as if nothing had happened, and she was completely helpless.

Father had explained to her and her brother how there were ways of separating a living being from the Force.

The Son hadn't been paying attention. He seemed distracted. Guilty, almost. He still seemed convinced he'd done something, but he wouldn't answer her questions.

Ashla hadn't been able to stop listening. She tried to imagine what it would be like to feel nothing. To have her very being taken from her.

She wanted to go to Ahsokah, to ask her if she was alright, to warn her.

She'd pleaded.

Father had been unmoved. The balance required her here.

"Daughter. You must trust in the Force that all is as it should be."

How can I trust in the Force if there are ways of taking even that from her? Ashla wondered.

Ahsoka waited, doing her best to ignore the way the darkness called to her. Obi-Wan was watching, and she wanted to appear patient and serene. She didn't want him to regret bringing her here.

She watched Soli with some degree of envy. When she'd realized they weren't disembarking, her Valkare had curled up again and promptly gone back to sleep. 

In truth, Mortis was no less beautiful to her at night. She liked the way she could feel the energy gather before each bolt of lightning, and the distant hum of the life force of the dormant plants was vaguely calming.

It was transformative, and intense, but it hadn't really occurred to her to associate it with death, not since the day they'd first arrived when her mother had reassured her that it was safe.

It hadn't occurred to her that she'd only meant it was safe for Ahsoka. But, then, there had to be a reason the plants withered and curled their presences tightly away, just like her master insisted on staying inside the walls of the shuttle.

She blinked against  a flash of lightning and saw

(Rex, chained to a stone wall, his eyes halfway closed)

its leftover glow-- spiderweb cracks across her vision.

"I would have thought they could sense our presence," Obi-Wan was saying. "Shouldn't someone have--" He paused, seeing her face. "What is it?"

The vision didn't feel imminent. It was a distant thought more than a prophecy. Better to leave it be.

His expression turned to one of admonishment and she realized she'd forgotten to speak. "Ahsoka, if your Sight is getting worse--"

"Worse?" echoed the voice of the Son, who stood in the shuttle, seeming comically tall. Ahsoka frowned. Although walls were of no significance to them, she couldn't help thinking that the other members of her family would have waited to be invited in. The Son, meanwhile, smiled at Obi-Wan. "You mean more powerful."

Ahsoka felt a sense of disquiet that she couldn't quite place.

Soli, who had finished with her nap, made it a point to yawn, showing her needle sharp teeth.

'Will you quit being irritable?' Ahsoka scolded.

She licked her paws. "You're the one feeling anxious. I was sleeping."

'I don't like how he talks to Obi-Wan.'

"Were you expecting them to get along?"

'Well, no,' she conceded.

The Son regarded her thoughtfully. His face had a stillness about it-- Ahsoka felt that there was more warmth in it than when he'd smiled. But then, where her mother was assurance and certainty, everything about the Son felt like a tentative theory. "Your Valkare-- her form suits you. Ashla will be so glad you've come back," he said.

"Where is she?"

"At night, Mortis is my domain and it is my prerogative to greet our guests," he explained. That made sense, or at least, it fit with the logic of this place. "But worry not, I will take you to her."

"We were waiting for the storm to pass," Obi-Wan said, looking doubtfully out the window again.

Ahsoka imagined leaping between each jagged column of electricity as easily as running through a forest. She imagined seeing her mother.

The Son's face shifted into a frown. Outside, the sky cleared, revealing stars. Ahsoka wondered if they were even stars from their galaxy. If they were even real. "Is that acceptable to you?"

"Yes, thank you." Obi-Wan ignored the taunt in his voice.

It would have bothered Ahsoka more if she hadn't been preoccupied by how still the darkness was. It gave her the feeling something was hiding in it. She liked the chaos better; it was honest.

The Son had almost felt guilty, until he saw her.

First, there was the obvious way in which it had gone terribly wrong: it was supposed to be a simple thing to hide the Padawan's corruption from her, if she'd known her own limits. Instead she'd been so hellbent on overpowering him, she'd almost gotten herself completely lost. Would have, if not for the twisted sorcery of mortals.

Then, there was the more subtle way in which he'd begun to wonder if there had ever been a way for it to go right. The Padawan was meant betray the Order and frame her for the betrayal. In essence, remove the Order from the picture, and Ahsokah would realize she belonged here. With Ashla. And Ashla would be happy.

For the tiniest of moments, in the wake of her almost-death and realizing that he had in fact caused it while the Jedi had saved her, he had wondered if perhaps the plan was wrong in more than its failed execution.

But seeing her, now--

The Jedi had stifled  her. Her presence curled around itself like the roots of a plant with no space to grow. She had taught herself to think small thoughts, to build pathetic mortal armor around her mind; her attempts to reach beyond it wither at their correction, her power sank under the weight of her own guilt. They were not merely ignorant of her nature, but fearful of it, actively trying to train it away.

The Son seethed. He did not have shields; his mind intertwined freely with the Force, and Ahsokah felt his rage boiling in the stillness. She stepped between him and her Jedi companion with a glare.

Why do you protect someone who chains you? 

But then again, she was barely even a child yet. The Son tried to imagine what it was to have known the universe only now, in its most recent moments. In her mind, perhaps she did not see the Jedi's repression for what it was.

They reached the steps of the monastery. Ahsokah stood on tip-toes, her glow brightening.

She froze for an instant, reaching out tentatively, finally daring to reach through the darkness... Her eyes lit up at the brightness she found.

It would be nothing to hurl herself up the steps in an instant, a blur too fast for her master's watchful gaze. Spacetime shivered around her--

Go, he thought. Be whole in the joy of your reunion.

She grabbed hold of her elation, stumbling as she struggled with the pull of it-- forcing it into a shape befitting of mortal subtlety. She carefully weighed each step, her footfalls of immaculate heaviness, her gait a respectable sprint.

The Son imagined changing into his winged form, picking up the Jedi and dropping him into the Well of the Dark Side headfirst.

"Ahsokah?"

She didn't realize immediately that her mother was surprised. The joy surpassed everything else; Ahsoka found herself simultaneously embraced literally and in the Force, and for a brief moment the entirety of her existence could be summed up neatly as warmth and love and safety.

"I didn't think you would come back."

"I didn't mean to leave so suddenly. I'm sorry. It wasn't because of you."

Before she could answer, her green eyes found Soli, and she brightened, her expression returning to a smile. "How beautiful you are," she murmured.

When Soli smiled, she squinted her eyes and opened her mouth slightly, and lolled out her tongue in a manner that reminded Ahsoka more of an akk dog than a feline. It was one of her favorite of Soli's expressions; there was just something so endearing about it.

"Forgive me. I meant to tell you about taking on other forms, but I wanted to wait, so you would be less overwhelmed. And then--"

Then I left.

She turned to Obi-Wan. "I owe you my thanks. You must have helped her. I didn't think the Jedi still knew of Valkare."

Oh no. Of all the ways for the conversation to go-- The walls around her narrowed.

He frowned, puzzled. "But I had no idea. Ahsoka was away."

With that, all possibility of escape evaporated. She was honestly happy to tell her mother, but...

Ashla's eyes widened with horror. "You mean to say you were alone? No one told you what was happening? But you must have been terrified. And it must have..."

She had to say something. "There were two Nightsisters--"

"There were what?" This was why she hadn't wanted to tell her master. "Ahsoka, please tell me I misheard you."

Her mother's face relaxed as she recounted how they'd explained everything to her, how she'd gone to Atollon and how Soli had finally appeared in her proper form.

"I am grateful," she said when Ahsoka had finished, "but surprised. We have not visited the Nightsisters in thousands of years. That they still possessed the knowledge to help you is stunning." She considered for a moment. "But be cautious of them; whatever they remember of us has no doubt faded with time, interwoven with their own desires and reshaped, as belief systems are apt to be. Their beliefs surrounding you will also be distorted, perhaps harmlessly, or perhaps not."

"And there's no need to put ourselves in a position to test that," Obi-Wan said, giving her his sternest look.

It wasn't necessary. Ahsoka's Temple classes on religion and mythology across the galaxy had taught her enough to imagine myriad ways in which being part of a group dark side witches' belief system, even a minor part, could go horribly, horribly wrong.

"I think I'll just avoid them if I can," she said, subdued. It shouldn't be that hard to avoid one of the most insular Force sects in the galaxy. Right?

"In the future, I hope you would come to me for help."

Ahsoka nodded. "I would. That's why I'm here." She described the vision she couldn't remember: the strange power blocking it from view, how she'd overcome it, but then been to overwhelmed to return to herself. Obi-Wan told her about how they'd woken her, and her mother frowned.

"It saved me," Ahsoka put in.

She did not look convinced. Her mouth was set in a grim line, her eyes skeptical.

Ahsoka took a deep breath. "Look. I came here to learn so this doesn't have to happen again. We can all agree on that, right?"

Some of the tension in the air abated. Ashla inclined her head.

Soli brushed against Ahsoka's leg, nudging her presence through the Force too.

"And maybe you can tell me more about Valkare."

She smiled, and the Force filled with warmth again, because this was always how their conversations ended.

She looked at her master. To him, this place was only an enigma-- it wasn't that it wasn't that to Ahsoka, too, but at its core were rhythms, patterns that made perfect, comforting sense.

Time was not real, not here, so she tried not to think about leaving.

The Jedi Council could be infuriatingly perfectionist and critical sometimes.

The Son could give them a run for their money, actually. Extra points for a phenomenally temperamental personality that meant his sky high expectations weren't even stationary targets. In the same breath, he scolded her for not following directions closely enough and somehow also for lacking imagination.

And then there was Obi-Wan. Ahsoka had only herself to blame; she'd suggested he be present for her lessons. To his credit, he held his tongue in a surprising display of self-restraint, but the Son's speech was punctuated by occasional sighs of righteous disapproval.

Come to think of it, she didn't think that could be doing anything to help with her instructor's irritability.

"You are too emotionally invested in your visions," the Son told her.

Ahsoka took a deep breath. "I thought," she said, "I was supposed to use my emotions to help me focus."

Obi-Wan sighed.

"Emotions that ground you in the present help you focus. What good does grief do?"

Another sigh.

"I'm supposed to not feel grief when I see terrible things happen?"

"Things that may happen," he corrected. "Grief is for the past-- by allowing yourself to feel it, you are muddling the distinction between vision and reality."

"So--"

"So, find a way to frame it differently. Try again."

She started over. She reached out to the Force, focusing on the Sith this time. She thought mostly of wanting his defeat for the suffering he caused, but she allowed herself a flicker of anger of the more personal sort: for his intrusions into her mind, for hurting those she cared about. Lastly, it would be dishonest not to consider her fear.

Ahsoka's crimson blade slashed through the air to sever the head of a robbed figure. She stepped over the shadowed outline on her way to the throne, seating herself, face curling into a smile.

She supposed that guilt was analogous to grief. Find something different.

It hasn't actually happened. It hasn't happened. It hasn't--

"Hasn't it?"

Ahsoka froze at the sound of that voice.

"You've used the dark side before," Krell continued.

"That's not the same as being a Sith," said Ahsoka. Be rational. Be--

Krell laughed. "Not yet. Perhaps, if I cannot be remembered as a great Sith Lord--"

"Ahsoka!"

She opened her eyes. Oops.

The Son didn't ask what she'd Seen. It was a tacit agreement between them, something that-- unlike shuttle walls or the Jedi Code-- he seemed at least able to understand. He narrowed his eyes. "Guilt," he said flatly, "is poison."

Obi-Wan sighed.

"For Force's sake, does nothing make you angry? Or even frightened-- that could at least be a starting point." He actually sounded exasperated.

In a shocking display of innovation, Obi-Wan inhaled this time.

"Again."

Chapter Text

The days were longer here than on Coruscant. At least, Obi-Wan thought so, but there was no way to actually measure; the ship's chronometer didn't work. He'd tried to check it twice.

There was an order to the day. Mornings were for lessons with the Son, a frustrating way to start each day. The Son hated Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan could hardly stand to listen to him advise Ahsoka without saying anything, to watch his padawan tip her head thoughtfully, critically, listening. Sometimes agreeing.

Usually not. He wasn't used to seeing her stubbornness from an outsider's perspective, and in this context it hardly seemed a fault. He couldn't help delighting when she argued about semantics, when she misconstrued directions with an air of deliberate disregard, when she debated the Son as if she wasn't drawing from only a decade of lived experience compared to his eons.

It was exhausting just to listen to. But Ahsoka was never exhausted. Frustrated, yes. But not tired.

Afternoons, Ahsoka spent with her mother. Obi-Wan was never not invited, but sometimes he felt he was intruding. He stayed at the monastery. He meditated. He even asked Ahsoka if he could use her pencils and paper to try drawing. She looked at him as if he'd asked if he could use her lightsabers. Then she presented him with them, her demeanor so uncharacteristically solemn that he stared at them for several minutes before he dared pick them up.

He didn't have her talent for it, but it was sort of relaxing.

Somehow, the trio procured food for them. The table was in the main hall, and it would be piled with something different each morning and night. Some things were identifiably fruits or vegetables, some even resembling food at home: greens, berries, some sort of grain that reminded him of rice but wasn't quite. Other things were stranger-- once there were giant fruits that had shells like eggs but whose insides were tart like citrus. Some of it even reminded him of meat, but everything still seemed to come from plants. Which made sense, he supposed; the food had to come from the planet, and there were no animals here that he knew of except the Valkare.

Sometimes, Ashla sat with them, but it was a little awkward given that she didn't eat.

He didn't ask Ahsoka if she thought the days were longer, because he knew she didn't. Nothing seemed to tire her. She went out at night with Soli-- they both enjoyed the thunderstorms for some reason-- and in the morning, she was awake before Obi-Wan.

"Ahsoka, you are...sleeping, right?" he asked when he again found her already awake on their third morning there.

She gave him a disbelieving look. "Of course I'm sleeping, master."

It seemed genuine enough. Ahsoka could lie convincingly, but why would she about this? "For eight hours?" he pried.

"How long is an hour?" She wasn't even being snippy, she was genuinely asking.

Right. Right. Time was a construct or whatever.

She stood. "We'd better go; things certainly won't go any better if he's already impatient before we even start."

Time wasn't real, yet somehow they were apparently running late.

Ahsokah held her breath for a long moment, and despite the strength of the wings bursting from her shoulders, Ashla felt as if she were teetering at the edge of a cliff.

For a long moment, her daughter simply stared with her eyes and through the Force--

It's still me.

She leapt back a little, startled. "I can hear you speak. But you're not--"

The planet echoes my thoughts, Ashla explained. She opened her wings, and flew in a single circle.

Ahsokah paused again. Her contemplative expression was so much like Efron's: the stillness of her face in the absence of judgement, the way she stuck out her bottom lip ever so slightly, but her face itself resembled Alina's. She'd said she barely remembered her family, and yet she herself was in so many ways their memory incarnate.

Mortal existence had a poetry interwoven about it, repetition and rhyme.

"I wish you'd told me about this last time."

I am sorry. She landed, claws retreating back into her presence, feathers melting away. She had meant to. She hadn't known Ahsokah was going to leave, but she didn't contest this point. After all, this had gone so much better than it could have; Ahsokah could have been frightened or disgusted. "I didn't want to overwhelm you. My winged form is a protector, which is not a role I take on often, here. Father changes forms even less-- and you can scarcely tell the difference between his. Only my brother particularly loves to shapeshift-- he invents new forms for himself whenever it suits him" Ashla had never understood it, frankly, how he treated a way of being as a mere disguise to be created and discarded at will. "But I warned him not to until I could talk to you about it."

Ahsokah listened, and paused, mentally organizing questions. "A protector?"

"The forms we take are not merely shapes. They have..." Ashla considered. Being a griffin wasn't the same as being a humanoid because inhabiting a different form was simply different. She didn't know how to explain it other than to state it as fact. "it is difficult to explain," she admitted. She had never liked metaphor as a rhetorical device; it was terribly imprecise. But such was the nature of words. She searched for a comparison. Perhaps... "If one pours water into a glass, it remains water, but shapes itself to that which holds it. The nature of one's presence doesn't change, but one does experience it differently. As a griffin, I am more able to accept that conflict is sometimes a necessity, and can be justified to defend that which is good, than I am in this form."

"What if I don't want to be anything different?" she asked. The idea seemed to frighten her-- Ashla paused, trying to understand.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked directly.

Ahsokah averted her eyes. "What if I'm dark?"

She blinked. "Ahsokah, darkness isn't something to be feared."

"Not for you." She sounded almost bitter. Almost...

Ashla resisted the urge to contradict this immediately. It was true that she was not in the same position-- perhaps she was being too dismissive. She posed a question instead: "How are your lessons?"

She flinched. Ashla reminded herself not to take that as an answer in and of itself, to let her speak. Ahsokah dug her hands into the ground, uprooting handfuls of grass. "I don't know."

"Is he being helpful?"

Ahsokah turned away. "Not really."

Therein lay the problem, she supposed. As much as he might like Ahsokah-- and Ashla knew he did because it was impossible to miss when he didn't like someone-- it was not in his nature to be helpful, even when he perhaps wished to be.

"He hates Obi-Wan," she added.

Ashla hadn't actually thought about that, much. It just seemed expected, that he would. Not to mention, she too had some reservations about the Jedi Master. But he was important to Ahsokah. "I will speak to him about keeping his opinions to himself."

"Brother."

He ignored the tell-tale tone of voice that indicated she was about to scold him. "Sister. What a pleasant surprise."

"The Jedi is a guest," she said, straight to the point. "You should be more polite."

"Have you seen what he's done to her?"

His sister averted her eyes. "She loves him."

"He doesn't deserve it!"

"It isn't that simple. He is trying. You of all people should be sympathetic to that."

He turned away. "Don't compare me to him."

"You are in no position to pass judgement," she maintained.

Like hell he wasn't.

Their fifth day there, by Ahsoka's count, was a good one. The Son was less irritable than usual, and Ahsoka only struggled with reconnecting to the present one time.

After her lesson, Obi-Wan asked the Daughter where the food came from, and she brought them to her part of the planet to show them.

It was safe to say the Temple gardens would never impress Ahsoka again.

Normally plants were quieter in the Force than sentient minds. A soft hum of vague, nondescript life.

Ashla tended flowers with presences like kyber crystals, vines that performed a ballet if you watched on the timescale of eons, trees that spoke in verse.

"They are whatever I ask them to be," she explained.

Ahsoka wound through the trees, studying each one. Some reminded her of things; one grew fruit that made her think of meilooruns, only those didn't grow on trees. She almost laughed, but that felt impolite.

Another grew apples-- and they reminded her of the way younglings drew apples: exaggerated, brilliant, glossy red skin. It made a kind of sense; she didn't suppose any of them would have seen these things in person, held them or eaten them. They had only vague ideas. Ahsoka wondered where they even got those from...

"How much do you know about what it's like? The rest of the galaxy, I mean," she asked, while Soli tried to climb a tree with papery bark and large oval leaves.

"We did not always reside here. Long ago, we traveled the galaxy as we wished. Now...our Valkare tell us of the galaxy, but only so much."

The abundance of trees suddenly made sense. Morai was a bird, after all.

Speaking of Valkare, Soli seemed to be enjoying herself. She balanced on a tree branch and leapt to the ground. A gentle breeze stirred the fallen leaves from the ground, and she stared for a moment, tail twitching, before running after them, trying to leap into the air and catch them between her paws.

Something else caught Ahsoka's eye, standing out against the mostly green landscape. "Is that turu-grass?" Tall orange and white stalks grew in a wide circle around one of the trees. It had once been prevalent Shili-- Ahsoka's orange and white skin was meant to camouflaged with it-- it was less abundant on her homeworld now, crowded out by green species from offworld. But she remembered stories from the village elders about how it had once covered the land as far as the eye could see.

And then there was the tree. It had wide green leaves, sharp pointed thorns, and from its branches hung drupes of lacy white flowers, some of which had already grown berries of the same color that Ahsoka knew would turn purple-grey, then deep black as they ripened. "Cloudberries," she whispered. Where the other plants were distorted interpretations of concepts that had been lost in translation, the ones from Shili were perfect. She smiled. "I haven't seen those in a long time."

"How long?" her mother queried.

Ahsoka considered. "I don't know...I might have been four?"

"Ahsoka was brought to Coruscant when she was three and a half," Obi-Wan answered.

"It's funny; I have some memories of Shili, but I don't actually remember arriving at the Temple. I do know Master Plo brought me though; we still talk sometimes." Or they had, when she'd been an initiate. She'd sort of stopped talking to him once she'd been apprenticed to Krell, and then...maybe she should pay him a visit when she got back to Coruscant. "He kinda kept an eye on me as a youngling; he says I cried a lot when I first came to the Temple. The crèche masters worried about me a bit I guess."

Her mother averted her eyes. "I see," she said softly. "Do you remember why you cried?"

She shook her head. "Nope. As a youngling, I mostly just remember--" Her throat caught for a moment. She closed her eyes, willing her voice to work while they both waited patiently. "--playing hide and seek and lightsaber training and stuff," she managed a few seconds later. "I was pretty happy most of the time. I had friends back then too."

"Do you not have friends now?" Her mother looked more than a little concerned.

Oh. Yeah, that had kind of come out more casually than she'd meant it to. At first, it had just been that everyone was busy adjusting to being padawans. But eventually people had started comming each other again. Everyone except Ahsoka. Because she hadn't been very good at lying, not back then. The easiest way to hide her failings had been to not talk to anyone at all.

She might have tried to make amends after that, but it had just been one thing after another and by the time she got around to it...being the former apprentice to a traitor had been bad enough. Being the former apprentice to a traitor who also had a weird glowing Force-presence made her pretty unappealing as far as friend material went. A couple of them had tried to invite her to sit with them at meals and stuff, but she could tell they were doing it out of pity or to make a display of being compassionate people, not because they actually wanted her there.

"Some of the 501st are my friends. And--"

"It is a bit odd that both of your masters left, isn't it?" She had seemed like she didn't care who Ahsoka's master had been the way the other padawans did. But now Ahsoka wasn't so sure.

"--Barriss," she finished. She wasn't about to make them sit here and listen to her friend problems. Besides, it wasn't like she was really interested in being friends with the other padawans. Honestly, most of them irritated her. It was little things; their hushed disbelief over what her master had done, as if it was all some tragic accident.

Disbelief was never a luxury Ahsoka had possessed and she couldn't help resenting them for it a little.

Their belief that the Order was fundamentally right and good by nature. Ahsoka didn't hate the Order; the Order was her home, her way of life, but it was also difficult for her in a way that automatically alienated her from almost everyone else in it.

"I don't need any other friends," she concluded firmly.

She didn't like the look they both exchanged, so she changed the subject. "Mother?" Ahsoka queried. "When I went to Atollon...there was a being there who called himself Bendu."

"Bendu? I didn't think he was awake." She hummed. "He is safe enough, as long as he isn't disrespected."

"He warned me about other Force-beings throughout the galaxy."

This seemed to give her pause. "No one is interested in picking fights with mortals anymore; even our less...principled kin have long since tired of that. I failed to consider the possibility." She gave Ahsoka a concerned look. "But he may have a point." She hesitated. "I will have to discuss the matter with Father; I am sure he will know what to do."

For now, Ahsoka decided not to worry.

That evening, even her master's presence, which had radiated consistent uncertainty, brightened when she suggested they had a sparring match.

He didn't go easy on her, which was fine. She was getting more used to his fighting style, even though it was vastly different from Anakin's, and his patient defensive tactics weren't doing him any favors; she wouldn't get tired, not here with so much Force energy to call on.

Her favorite thing about sparring was that she could enjoy it without feeling guilty for enjoying a battle. She made a mental note that she should practice deflecting blaster bolts when she got ba--

His blade hit her leg.

Their lightsabers were depowered, like they always were for training, but you could still feel getting hit with one, and Ahsoka leapt backward so quickly it took her a moment to realize she'd done so only in surprise and not in actual pain. Yes, there had been the white hot burning feeling one would expect from a lightsaber, but it had been oddly neutral, alarming only in that it had startled her. She frowned.

"Ahsoka? Are you alright?"

"I-- yeah. I yield." She hadn't even been aware of deciding to lie to him. She wasn't exactly sure what she was even lying for or about.

"Remember to remain focused, even when you believe you're winning."

"Yes, Master." She glanced at the dimming sky. "I think I'll go to bed now."

Her raised an eyebrow in surprise, but seemed to decide he had no cause to protest. "Alright, then. Goodnight, Ahsoka."

Hours later, Ahsoka lay awake staring at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, she tried for the hundredth time to close her eyes. Just like every other night since they'd gotten here, the light of her own Force-presence burned blindingly against the inside of her eyelids, keeping her awake.

Barriss sat across from her master, trying to meditate. Her thoughts wouldn't quiet.

Why would you say that?

Ahsoka was her friend. Ahsoka was good and kind, and Barriss had chosen to hurt her, as willfully as if she'd picked up a dagger, a cruel stone blade wreathed in mist, feeling the cold handle in her trembling hands, and it's such a quick and simple motion, but she can't-- 

Where do you get these ideas from, Barriss?

"I don't want to!" she choked out, opening her eyes. And it was just her mind playing tricks on her, so why could she hear it clatter to the floor, the ominous sound of stone against stone?

"Don't want to what?" her master asked, concerned. "Padawan, are you alright?"

"I think I'll retire to my quarters if that's alright."

There is no dagger, she told herself as she walked through the halls, timing the words in rhythm with her steps, trying to make them sink in. There is no serpent. There is no emotion, there is peace.

She opened the door to-- that wasn't her quarters, what was she doing, this was a storage room, not even on the right floor and she'd gone down the stairs instead of up them and "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" she called out.

There was a flash of light, illuminating a silhouette with two large horns atop its head.

"Ahsoka?" she whispered.

The voice that answered her was strange and distorted, echoing over itself as if she was hearing it from a broken speaker. But it was hers, and Barriss could just barely make out the words: "What are you doing?"

And then the echo dissipated. At least the darkness left her alone, too.

"What are you doing?" asked Ahsokah.

The Son snapped out of his trance. How could he have not sensed her? Ahsokah could barely even shield.

It was just...this was more difficult than he'd thought. Poisoning Barriss Offee had been one thing. Getting her to do what he wanted was another. Translating his own will into something compatible with a mortal mind would have been hard even if she wasn't constantly fighting. Why did they have to think in such confining patterns of electrical signals? To take the sacred qualities of thought and consciousness and will and make them into something corporeal. It was so claustrophobic. So...

He turned his attention back to Ahsokah and the Jedi. "Forgive me, I was meditating."

"Where exactly are we?" She glanced around warily, peering into the fiery chasm before them.

"A place where all that is dark is channeled."

"Let me guess," Obi-Wan interjected. "You want us to go down there. I don't think so."

Ahsokah took longer to think about it, her expression thoughtful. She glanced at Soli, and he guessed the two of them were conversing. "Why have you brought us here?"

"I thought," he said, choosing his words carefully, "that Soli could stay up here and you could practice reaching out to her presence as a way of grounding yourself." It wasn't untrue; he thought she might be more amenable to using her Valkare as an anchor to reality than anger. But he didn't think being here would hurt, either, in terms of her connecting with her emotions.

As he'd imagined, she liked the idea a lot, he could tell, but she forced herself to consider it for a moment, still. "Master, I think it's alright."

"Well, some of us can't teleport at will. How are we even supposed to--"

Ahsokah stepped carefully off of the edge. She had no trouble gathering the dark side energy into something solid. It was one aspect of her power she did not seem to mind calling upon; she'd often taken advantage of the prevalence of dark side energy on Mortis for no other reason than to amuse herself, 'flying' being a favorite pastime as far as he could tell.

Evidently, she had not shared this with her Jedi, who reacted in utter dismay. "How are you doing that?"

She seemed to find his astonishment mildly amusing too; rather than explain she just smiled at him.

Though, when they finally reached the bottom, where he was waiting for them, she looked less amused at having had to carry him, while he held onto her for dear life, the only solid surface for him to stand on being her feet.

The Jedi redoubled his shields to keep out the darkness, his face paling slightly with the effort. Typical.

Ahsokah's did not have the ability to shield her presence completely. It darkened, mirroring what surrounded her. Not completely; there was probably about as much light as darkness-- though direct comparisons like that were always dubious.  But it was noticeably less.

Yes, the Son thought to himself, that would do nicely.

Chapter Text

Admittedly, when Ahsoka had thought that her visits to the Sith temple on Coruscant prepared her for this, she'd been wrong.

The darkness here was a hundred times stronger-- she felt as if she was drowning in it, except that drowning connoted fear, and she didn't feel afraid per se, just very very awake. The world around her seemed to sharpen. The shadows were a blur of constant motion, like fire or smoke, their shapes ever-changing.

Beside her, Obi-Wan recoiled, as if considering trying to climb back up the walls. She wondered what all this felt like to him. She tried to imagine what this place would look like without its shadows, and flickers of half-formed visions.

She thought about not Seeing, about the first few times Krell had made her use the dark side, and she hadn't been able to stop shivering with cold, how it had exhausted her and made her head hurt, and how she'd sat in the mess hall afterward with no appetite whatsoever.

It felt like so long ago. Was that how Obi-Wan felt now, here?

"Master?"

"I'm alright," he replied too quickly.

She wondered if that could have been her, if she might not be a Seer in some alternate universe where-- what, she hadn't been assigned to Krell? Where she'd reported him sooner? She wondered if the Son had ever chosen the dark side, and if her mother had ever chosen the light, or if they'd just come into existence that way without any choice at all. Would Ahsoka's darkness have emerged on its own just like her glowing presence?

There was something beautiful about it, as she looked around the cavern. It reminded her a little of Anakin-- the hint of fire and ash trailing behind his presence that had frightened her at first, but that she'd come to accept as a part of him. She missed it, even.

"Are you alright?" Obi-Wan asked.

What did he see when he looked at her? She was darker here, definitely; did he see in her eyes the same coldness he felt in the air surrounding them?

She wasn't sure. She felt warm, something inside her was alight. The thrum of power was less subtle; it did not match her slow, measured breaths the way the light did. It did not even match her heartbeat. The beating wings of a hummingbird might be closer.

In so many ways, it was a part of her: the part that protected her from feeling its cold, the part that whispered insight, maybe the part that gave her her quick temper, so ill-befitting of a Jedi. Yet on a fundamental level, it was still intrusive.

She tried to make herself close her eyes and invite the visions. Get on with it. She reminded herself of her purpose in being here, but it didn't help. Ahsoka couldn't bring herself to fulfil it. But she couldn't quite stomach the defeat of asking to leave either. Instead, she stood frozen. She didn't dare so much as blink.

The darkness didn't wait for her to. It seemed to her as if the shadows reached out like a guiding hand, a pressure compelling her to turn her head so she gazed across the fiery river.

A procession of nightmarish figures floated above the lava: armored Sith in battle masks, creatures that had been left withered husks by the dark side's power. It was as if she was witnessing a parade of villains from every cautionary tale, every horror story told to frighten younglings.

She swallowed, taking a deep breath, and turned back to her master--

A different Jedi stood before her, a bearded man with graying hair, and hollow, sunken eyes. When he saw her, he knelt down on the ground, his hands clawing at his face in anguish. "Am I not to find peace even in death?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

He didn't look up, or even speak to her, but instead muttered to himself: "Sorry? Poor girl will be sorry for more than that before she is fortunate enough to die. Oh but the universe is too cruel. To think they found another unwitting servant who shares my affliction."

"Your-- are you a Seer?"

He tugged wildly at his beard, his voice rising hysterically. "We are a gift to them, miserable creatures like us. You'll see. You'll see." He tugged at his beard, rocking back and forth.

Ahsoka stared at him, feeling a mixture of pity, confusion, and utter revulsion. "To...who?"

"The Sith, padawan, the Sith!"

"I'm not a gift to anyone. I'm fighting the Sith."

"I thought the same-- I will not beg you to understand. I know you can't help it. Every struggle against our fate makes it only more inevitable. For all I tried to save you, I, Sifo-Dyas, shall be remembered as the man who laid the groundwork for your destruction!"

"So you want me to lose my mind as you have? How will I help anyone then?"

"You cannot help! Your every touch tips the scale of the universe in favor of darkness! Such is our curse!"

I won't accept that. I can't accept that.

She turned away, trying to bring herself back to reality.

She called the thought of Soli into her mind. She thought of nothing else except Soli, concentrating with all her might until she could feel her again.

"You're here," Soli reminded her gently.

And she opened her eyes.

The Son's voice greeted her first: "Well done."

Praise? From him? Ahsoka did a double take, half convinced for a moment that she hadn't made it back to reality at all.

"Can we go now?" Obi-Wan's voice was faint. His face was terribly pale, and he looked as if his legs might fail him at any moment.

"I'm sorry, master!" she said in horror, and she gathered the shadows into steps, any ounce of pride she'd felt evaporating on the spot.

To her relief, he seemed to feel better once they reached the planet's surface. His face regained its color almost at once, and by that evening, he was more than happy to spar with her.

It didn't quite erase the unease she felt.

"Obi-Wan, may I speak with you?"

His name sounded strange in Ashla's voice, and it fully occurred to him how rarely anyone here said it. He was always 'the Jedi,' as if Ahsoka wasn't one.

He glanced at Ahsoka. She barely looked up from her drawing, shrugging her shoulders. Her presence had brightened again since they'd returned to the monastery, but the way it had felt in the Well of the Dark Side still disturbed him.

"Of course," he replied, hoping it was about that.

Instead, when they stepped outside into the bright landscape, she asked about him. "How are you adjusting to having a padawan again?"

It was such a typical question-- anyone at the Temple might have asked it trying to make small talk. He almost laughed. And then he thought of Anakin. Anakin, who had been his first padawan. Anakin, who had been a much better master to Ahsoka than he could ever hope to be. I think she liked him better. Even worse, I think she was right to. I don't know what to do. I never know what to say or how to help. I-- "I don't know how to replace him," he thought out loud.

She frowned slightly. "Replace the Chosen One? Is that what you aim to do?"

"That's what she needs. She needs--" he tried to formulate his thoughts, to explain. That's just it! I don't even know. Anakin understood her, but "I'm not of the Force like they are."

"All living beings are of the Force," Ashla said sharply. She laid her hand against a tree and magenta blossoms burst from its branches.

"I can't even remember this planet once I leave."

She gave him a look he couldn't quite read. "Last time you were here, you were not her guardian."

What did it take to get a straight answer out of these people? What did that have to do with anything?

A single petal fell from above him, floating through the air a moment before landing in his palm. He didn't know why, but it felt like an answer.

At first glance, it looks like a moon.

But the surface is too perfect, too uniform and featureless. It isn't a moon at all, but a space station.

Sometimes it's above Coruscant, sometimes Mandalore or Alderaan, sometimes planets she doesn't recognize from space. 

It doesn't matter. Whichever planet it is is obliterated and the Force screams unendingly.

Sometimes it's Dathomir.

Ahsoka opened her eyes, frowning.

She shouldn't know Dathomir from space. She hadn't had to memorize it in her classes at the Temple or even looked at a holo, that she could recall.

She got to her feet, abandoning yet another futile attempt to sleep, walking out the door of her room, down the hall, down the steps.

She tried to think of what she would say as she walked. It wasn't the things she saw when she closed her eyes. It was he feeling of it being impossible to stay still, the feeling that she was on the precipice of something terrible, perpetually. She hated to think of herself as a haunted person.

But she couldn't say that. Not to him.

Either the journey was shorter than it ought to have been, or the lack of time here was messing with her-- she did not feel as if she walked far to reach her destination.

The Son was in his castle. Ahsoka studied the imposing structure for a moment, hesitating. Well, it wasn't as if he couldn't keep her out if he wanted to. She took the fact that she was able to open the door as invitation enough.

The space was hollow, and her footsteps echoed, confusing her montrals, leaving phantom feelings of obstructions where there were none. She kept to her path resolutely, wary of distractions. Something told her that should she indulge any impulse she might have to explore, she would not at all like what she found.

His throne was a jagged thing, its back cruel and pointed. It faced a glass window which overlooked a sort of courtyard.

He was watching the lightning.

Ahsoka cringed at the familiarity the image evoked.

Ahsoka remembered the first time she'd seen a lightning storm. That she could remember, anyway. There had probably been some on Shili. But on Coruscant, there hadn't. It had been a field trip to a desert world, a world without weather controls for the first time in years. She'd sat in front of the window, mesmerized enough to have unnerved the master who'd brought them there; he'd asked if she felt alright.

She'd thought him silly at the time. Now, she sympathized.

Perhaps there was something wrong with her.

Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and she found herself involuntarily reaching forward, as if she might try to hold it.

Something was definitely wrong with her.

The Son turned his head. "Where's the Jedi?"

The Jedi. Like she wasn't one. "Obi-Wan is asleep. I came to tell you I won't go back to that dark side nexus again."

He frowned. "Because of him?"

"Why am I welcome there and my master isn't?"

The question seemed to strike him as a foolish one. "He's a Jedi."

"I'm a Jedi," she pointed out.

He rolled his eyes. "You aren't like the other Jedi."

"Yes, but why? Because the dark side is a part of me-- that's not a real answer, it's just a circle!"

"What is it you want to know?"

"Would I have been a Seer anyway?" She thought of her first master, remembered the feeling of using the dark side for the first time, the startling power that had thrown him backward, shattered one of the windows. It had felt cold then. Had something inside her shattered in that moment? Or was her fascination with the spiderweb lines of the lightning an indication of some part of her that had always been fundamentally broken? "Or did he make me one?"

Ahsoka didn't like pity, and she especially didn't like the Son's. The expression hardly belonged on his face, even mixed with disbelief as it was. "But of course not, Ahsokah. That monster would have had the Force destroy you. The dark side made you a Seer in order to save you from such a fate."

That was a matter of semantics, Ahsoka supposed. She took it as rather an affirmative answer-- after all, it was Krell's doing that she'd needed to be saved.

"Why?" she asked. "Why save a Jedi? What does it want?"

The Son's red eyes gleamed. Lightning flashed across the sky again, and Ahsoka stared at the jagged line, half-convinced that if one were to see the very center of her presence, it would look exactly like that: the darkness cleaved in two by a jagged, branching line of light.

"Now that is the right question."

She shouldn't be here.

"We decide," he said in a conspiratorial whisper. "We don't merely See the future. We have the power to choose it."

She'd done a very bad thing. She could practically hear Obi-Wan's voice admonishing her for even listening to this. The knowledge was foreign and unwelcome. She didn't want it.

"I could teach you how. It would take time, but only time."

"No, thank you," she said. It lacked the forcefulness she'd intended. She might have been refusing a dessert at one of those accursed formal events Anakin always used to drag her to with the Chancellor.

Miraculously, the Son didn't take advantage of this apparent lack of conviction. He didn't look surprised. "No. I suppose you mean to go back to the Jedi."

"I do."

"Perhaps one day you will see reason. Until then, I take it we are finished with your lessons?"

"Yes."

"I look forward to your return, then," he said, because of course he couldn't let her go back to the Temple without some small display of protest.

She closed her eyes. "You may be waiting a long time."

He laughed and Ahsoka realized her mistake. It was not a very good retort to direct at an immortal.

Thank the Force. Obi-Wan had not wanted to be the one to bring up leaving, but he thought he might lose his mind if they stayed on this planet a day longer.

"Father doesn't think any other Force beings would want to provoke us by harming you, even if he isn't as powerful as he once was," the Daughter was saying. "All the same, be careful."

"I'll try," Ahsoka replied.

"I love you."

"I love you too," his padawan said without hesitation. "Goodbye, Mother."

Ashla turned to look at him. "I am trusting you to take care of her."

"Yes," he said. "I will."

She lowered her voice, stepping closer. She handed him a single green feather. "Should you need anything."

"Thank you," he said, doubtfully. "Er...what is it for?"

"It will help Morai to hear you, if you call for her."

It was rather astonishing to receive such a practical piece of advice. "Oh. Thank you."

She smiled.

"Ready?" he asked Ahsoka.

"Ready, Master."

"The Son didn't want to say goodbye?" he asked, half joking.

Ahsoka made a face. "We spoke last night." Judging by her expression, the conversation hadn't been pleasant.

"Is everything--"

"It's fine," she said shortly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Let's go back to the Temple now."

He couldn't help noticing that she didn't say 'home'.

Chapter Text

Name: Ahsoka Tano

Species: Togruta

Date of birth: 7941.312

<Entry type: Report>

<Author: Master Shaak Ti>

<Date: 7944.845>

<Subject: Possible Force-sensitive youngling on Shili>

I have recently been in contact with a resident of Shili who claims his daughter has displayed Force-abilities. The youngling is just over three standard years of age. I recommend a Seeker be sent to evaluate her for admittance to the Order as soon as is reasonably possible.

<Entry Type: Report>

<Author: Master Plo Koon>

<Date: 7944.863>

<Subject: Evaluation of potential Jedi candidate>

Ahsokah Tano (aged 3.5 standard years)

Background: Raised in remote village on Shili by Efron Tano (father). Alina Tano (mother) died a little over 2 standard years ago.

Assessment: Did not require M-count to confirm sensitivity as Tano demonstrates ability in the areas of telepathy and telekinesis. Despite her age, upon speaking with both her and Efron Tano, I do not see any cause for concern.

Recommendation: The youngling in question appears to meet the criteria for admission into the Order. Upon approval of the Council, I will bring her to the Temple.

<Entry Type: Correspondence>

<Author: Master Kyra, to Master Plo Koon>

<Date: 7944.982>

<Subject: Concerns About New Arrival>

Ahsokah Tano does not appear to be adjusting well to the crèche. She cries intermittently and does not interact with the other younglings. She's also shown a concerning overreliance on telepathic communication, and seems to prefer projecting her emotions and desires rather than speaking aloud. Do you have any recommendations?

<Entry Type: Correspondence>

<Author: Master Kyra to High Council>

<Date: 7946.601>

<Subject: Request to Advance Students' Training>

Pa'ehni is ready to rejoin the rest of her age group in telekinesis; she's made excellent progress in the past few months.

Ahsokah's skill with the training sword is excellent. With your permission, I would like to have her practice with the group a year ahead of her; I believe she is more than ready for a training saber-- the sooner we can get an actual training blade in her hands the better, in my opinion. She's definitely at a point where the discrepancies in balance and weight that come with using the wooden sword are a hindrance.

<Entry Type: Report>

<Author: AUTOMATED>

<Date: 7949.325>

<Subject: INITIATE LIGHTSABER EVALUATION RESULTS>

Ahsoka Tano placed 3rd overall in initiate lightsaber evaluations.

(This entry was placed here automatically. If you wish to remove it, please enter your access code, and then press 'REMOVE ENTRY')

<Entry Type: Report>

<Author: Padawan Eli Rosid>

<Date: 7949.348>

<Subject: The Gathering>

I am pleased to report that initiate Ahsokah Tano successfully completed the Gathering along with the rest of her group. I believe she will go on to be an excellent Jedi Knight one day.

<Entry Type: Correspondence>

<Author: Efron Tano to High Council>

<Date: 7951.312>

<Subject: Gift>

I know you have not been giving Ahsokah my messages. I know you claim you cannot, that attachments are dangerous. I write them for myself more than her, though I take delight at the idea that I am causing you great irritation in the process.

And then I remember Jedi don't become angry. Not over threats or provocations-- certainly not over petty annoyances from a dying man.

Have you taught her not to feel yet?

Today I write to you directly. It is my Ahsokah's tenth birthday and I have a request: that you give her the enclosed Akul tooth headdress. It is not a gift-- it was already hers by the custom of our people. Having slain one of the creatures, she earned the right to wear its teeth as a trophy, but I had to keep them for her until she was old enough. You don't have to tell her I sent it, just please give it to her.

Please, at least write back with your answer.

Yours,

Efron Tano

<Entry Type: Directive>

<Author: Master Shaak Ti, on behalf of the High Council>

<Date: 7951.319>

<Subject: Decision Regarding Headdress>

It is the finding of this Council, upon serious deliberation, that the Akul tooth headdress sent by Efron Tano is an item of cultural heritage, and therefore an exception to our policy against gifts and nonessential possessions. It will therefore be given to Initiate Tano with appropriate explanation of its significance.

<Entry Type: Status Update>

<Author: AUTOMATED>

<Date: 7955.014>

<Subject: STATUS UPDATE>

Ahsoka Tano has achieved the rank of Jedi Padawan and been apprenticed to Master Pong Krell.

(This entry was placed here automatically. If you wish to remove it, please enter your access code, and then press 'REMOVE ENTRY')

<Entry Type: Correspondence - CLASSIFIED>

<Author: Master Pong Krell to unknown recipient>

<Date: 7955.025>

<Subject: no subject>

Tano continues to show unexpected resistance to being immersed in the dark side, though I do observe it to be waning, however slowly. I have surmised that your design is for her spirit to be consumed by it entirely-- to what end? If you told me what the true purpose of this endeavor is, perhaps I could make more progress. 

<Note>

<Author: Master Mace Windu>

I obtained and decrypted the above transmission during our investigation of former Master Krell on 7955.741. Though a recipient could not be determined, we believe the message was sent to somewhere in Separatist space. I have retroactively added it to Tano's file. Master Yoda and I have elected not to share it with the rest of the Council-- it has been given the highest level of classification out of concern that the information it contains, or at least alludes to, would cause panic and disarray.

<Entry Type: File Update Request>

<Author: Ahsoka Tano>

<Date: 7955.435>

<Subject: Name>

I request that my name of record be changed from 'Ahsokah' to 'Ahsoka' to be consistent with common pronunciation outside of Shili.

<File update request granted. All automated portions of the file will be changed to reflect the update. Manually entered text will not be altered.>

<Entry Type: Report>

<Author: Master Mace Windu, on behalf of the High Council>

<Date: 7955.752>

<Subject: Results of Investigation>

The findings of this Council are as follows:

-That Master Pong Krell fully and willingly embraced the dark side

-That he conspired against the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Order

-That he caused willful and deliberate damage to Republic property and interests

-That he deliberately caused physical and spiritually injury to the padawan placed under his care

-That Padawan Ahsoka Tano assisted in some of these efforts

-That she did not do so willingly

-That, at times, she acted in opposition to the most egregious efforts

-That Padawan Tano seeks atonement, and has no desire to continue in using the dark side

We therefore declare that Master Pong Krell will be subject to trial for his transgressions, to determine appropriate punishment. We also recommend that Padawan Tano be reassigned, and that she be given any counseling and support she may require as she moves forward with her training. We do not call for any disciplinary measures to be taken at this time.

<Entry Type: Status Update>

<Author: AUTOMATED>

<Date: 7955.767>

<Subject: STATUS UPDATE>

Padawan Ahsoka Tano has been reassigned to Knight Anakin Skywalker

(This entry was placed here automatically. If you wish to remove it, please enter your access code, and then press 'REMOVE ENTRY')

<Entry Type: Report (Medical)>

<Author: Master Vokara Che>

<Date: 7956.101>

<Subject: Anomalous Manifestation of Force-presence>

Tano's Force-presence has manifested itself physically, in the form of a visible aura of light around her. At its onset, this phenomenon appeared to cause physiological distress-- patient appeared to go into shock and was unconscious for approximately 24 hours. I can explain neither the symptoms themselves, nor how they resolved themselves.

I do not have any means, established or theoretical of treating this condition. Further, I would speculate that, with the patient having apparently acclimated, any attempt to do so would pose intolerable risk to her.

I will continue to research the matter, but I cannot claim to be optimistic. It might help if I had access to her entire file. I have no further recommendations, other than continuing to monitor her condition.

<Entry Type: Status Update>

<Author: AUTOMATED>

<Date: 7956.440>

<Subject: STATUS UPDATE>

Padawan Ahsoka Tano has been reassigned to Master Obi-Wan Kenobi

(This entry was placed here automatically. If you wish to remove it, please enter your access code, and then press 'REMOVE ENTRY')

<Entry Type: Correspondence - CLASSIFIED>

<Author: Master Vokara Che to Master Yoda and Master Windu>

<Date: 7956.486>

<Subject: Request for Additional Information>

Padawan Tano's history over the past year, including this latest occurrence is deeply concerning to me. Admittedly, I have only suspicions. But you know I would not jump to such conclusions and share them with you lightly. I believe I am right, or at least that I cannot be entirely wrong.

First, I have come to the conclusion that neither she nor Obi-Wan (or her prior masters for that matter) have been forthcoming with me. Particularly about this latest incident-- I don't know what it was, but I don't think it was a simple case of becoming lost during meditation.

Second, I have come to the conclusion that the state of Padawan Tano's Force-presence was not an isolated incident, but is a progressive condition. Here, you must forgive me for speculating wildly, but I believe she is gradually becoming one with the Force. Yes, I understand the irony. I know she is hardly a model Jedi. I do not know why this is happening, but you cannot deny she is losing the ability to separate herself from it.

I am asking-- no, I am demanding that the Council provide me with access to the classified parts of her file, particularly pertaining to her time as Krell's padawan. Know that with any information you continue to conceal from me, you are preventing me from doing my job, and assigning yourselves partial blame for any harm that may befall her. You cannot look me in the eye and tell me that his influence and that of the dark side didn't affect a connection to the Force as powerful as the one she possesses.

I am also asking that you attempt to reach out to any living family members in search of any pertinent information. If I am right, I'm missing a piece of the puzzle and it's one I fear I'm running out of time to solve.

Chapter Text

Most beings, in order to psychologically process sensations in the Force, associated it with a physical sensation. In short, it was nearly impossible to find a Jedi who was not, in that particular regard, a synesthete. They'd done some studies-- in humans it was often, though not always, touch. No one knew exactly why this was, but it was a noticeable pattern that had popped up time and time again. Visual associations weren't uncommon either. The Force was light, or it was dark.

Some non-human species had reported interpreting it as taste or smell, or a sense Humans didn't even have. And although Togruta were less common and therefore less studied, given their echolocation and all that, it made sense why Ahsoka flip-flopped between touch and sound; the two senses were very intertwined for her species anyway.

As Obi-Wan teetered between consciousness and dreams, the Force was not a feeling, nor a sound, nor light, nor any sensation he could put a name to. In an unfolding flash before his awareness, it simply was.

And then, he opened his eyes, and the feeling was gone.

He felt as if he'd woken into a dream, not from one. The past two weeks were perfectly vivid and clear in his mind; it was the present that felt fuzzy. He struggled to get his bearings-- it was strange after it being so overwhelming, for the Force to be something he had to actually try to reach out to.

"Ahsoka?"

She smiled. There was nothing knowing in it. She couldn't tell.

He stared down at the feather still in his hands.

Obi-Wan didn't usually hear the Force, but for some reason, right now, he imagined quiet, gentle laughter.

Barriss Offee knew three things.

First, that the Jedi Order was not as it should be. That they had collectively Fallen. That they had become soldiers instead of peacekeepers, complicit in the suffering of millions.

Second, the Force was asking her to do something about it (why me? please why me?). The visions, all of it, it was trying to tell her something.

Third, she was sure, completely sure, that Ahsoka would understand. Ahsoka was supposed to help her, she just knew it, ever since she'd seen that vision of Ahsoka standing in the doorway of the storage room. All she had to do was somehow get Ahsoka to see the Order for what it was. Somehow...but carefully. If she simply said it, Ahsoka would think she was crazy. She would say something to the wrong person, and then... no, she would have to be delicate about it.

Letta said they needed to do something that would make a statement. Barriss needed something to alienate Ahsoka from the Order, to create a distance that would allow for honest introspection. Perhaps, she thought, they could kill two birds with one stone.

What are you doing? Barriss, no. This is wrong.

What the Order is doing is wrong.

Will this really solve anything?

Enough!

On some level, she was distantly aware she was Falling. Part of her dreaded her meetings with Letta, and yet another part of her delighted in Letta's fear. Not just Letta's. Fear in general was more satisfying than the food she seldom felt well enough to eat anymore. Even her own fear filled her with a strange, distant sort of gratification, as if she wasn't really herself at all, but just another person to be punished.

And perhaps she was. It felt as if there was another part of her that abhorred all of it.

Is this really what it's like to Fall? She didn't want that to happen to her. She didn't want to hurt Ahsoka. She didn't want to betray the Order.

Barriss wished this part of her would vanish. Then she wouldn't be in such pain. She could Fall in peace.

But it wouldn't let her. She delayed coming up with a coherent plan. She tried to ask Luminara for help, twice, but she couldn't get the words out, because the Fallen part of her wouldn't let her.

In fighting the dark side, she couldn't win. Or lose. She could only suffer.

Please, she thought. Please let someone find out what I'm doing and stop me.

She tried to leave her comlink on the table, to be as careless as she could.

But no one seemed to be paying attention. Certainly not her supposed master.

No, the only thing watching Barriss was the serpent, its beady red eyes staring straight into her soul.

The Council wasted no time in sending them on their first mission-- formal mission, that was-- together as master and padawan. Ahsoka did a double take at first. "We're going back to Felucia?" Hadn't they decided it was a lost cause?

But it wasn't her job to critique Republic strategy. It was her job to fight battle droids. And she was glad to do it; honestly, she'd been starting to get antsy having spent so much time letting the war carry on without her. Not that she missed the battlefield, but it hadn't felt right.

After some debate, they agreed to let Soli go with her. Although Ahsoka noted that she was more comfortable with Soli being out of sight than she'd been at first, the idea of being light years apart filled her with dread. It was hard to imagine how the rest of her family members were content to let their Valkare wander the galaxy while they all remained on Mortis.

"Maybe one day we won't mind. But not yet," Soli agreed.

Anyway, Soli was more than used to space travel by now; she was just happy not to be crowded into a tiny shuttle. And the 501st took to her presence better than a lot of the Order.

Rex frowned slightly though upon hearing that she'd be coming. "What will she do? While we're fighting, I mean?"

"She'll probably just follow a little ways behind us. Anyway, it's a jungle, and nexus are really good at climbing. She can hide from anyone she doesn't want to be found by."

Fives grinned. "She doesn't want to help?"

"Claws only do so much good when your enemies are made of metal," Echo pointed out.

"I don't know; I bet she could find a way."

Ahsoka heard their laughter distantly.

"I'm going to go try and get some sleep before we arrive," she told everyone.

"Seriously? You were just on leave. What are you so tired for?" Fives teased.

She shrugged. "Can't hurt to be well-rested."

Echo stared. "Who are you and what have you done with our Commander?"

She laughed, and finally managed to excuse herself. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Felucia, Rex had decided, was definitely cursed. The plants provided plenty of cover for them, but unfortunately, it did the same for their enemies.

It took days to reach the outpost, and they arrived only to find that the Separatists had sent reinforcements.

"I say we attack before they get a chance to regroup," Ahsoka said. For once, her 

General Plo Koon nodded, and General Kenobi agreed as well.

It took Rex several moments to figure out why they were both looking at him. Force, he wasn't used to be an authority figure. "I think Commander Tano's right. We should launch our attack as soon as possible."

And finally, for once, something was going well. They split into three groups: each of the two generals, and then he and Ahsoka were scaling the back wall.

"Race you," Ahsoka grinned at her master. And really, one could forget for a moment that Anakin had just left, that Rex had just been promoted, that everything had changed. Here was Ahsoka, trying to have races, eyes gleaming playfully even as they were all exhausted.

"Oh, you'll regret that," General Kenobi teased, and they were off.

"Alright. Rex, how about you lead and I'll bring up the rear."

And he didn't argue.

(Why hadn't he argued?)

Ahsoka was tired. After Mortis, her body had seemed to realize it hadn't slept for two weeks; and although part of her had been relieved to find that she was still capable of sleep, the exhaustion had hit her like a ton of duracrete. She'd tried her best to catch up on sleep, but an hours long trek through the jungle every day hadn't helped.

Her glow dimmed until it was virtually nonexistent-- well, at least it would make it a little less likely for a droid to get a blaster trained on her.

She watched Rex and the rest of the clones begin scaling the wall, waiting her turn.

Maybe I could close my eyes for just a second...

Behind her, something moved. Before she could even turn her head, she felt a jolt of pain and then nothing at all.

Lo-Taren was having an excellent day.

The Jedi youngling had been staring blankly up at the wall; she hadn't seen him coming at all. Still, it was best not to push his luck; where there was a youngling, there was a full grown Jedi somewhere nearby, and he did not want to be around when they arrived. He quickly tossed aside her weapons and comlink.

He considered dragging her through the forest, but then again, Garnac didn't like the prey injured before the hunt. So, he bent down to carefully pick her up--

A furious growl rang out from the trees above him, and he leapt backward only just in time as a nexu leapt down from the canopy, hissing and snapping its teeth.

They aren't native to Felucia! 

He fumbled for his blaster. "Eat the girl! She's right--"

It leapt toward him, standing in front of the unconscious Jedi, pacing back and forth, almost as if it was guarding her. Then, it seemed to change his mind, and it lunged, teeth missing his arm by only a centimeter. Finally, he managed to raise the net gun, and fired.

The creature leapt out of the way and Lo-Taren cursed. It swiped at him, claws tearing into his leg. He howled, kicking it away, and it yelped in pain again, hesitating for a moment.

He fired the net gun again, and again, somehow the creature avoided it, almost as if it--

I shouldn't have missed that, he thought angrily. I never miss. At least Garnac and the others weren't here to see. It's a stupid nexu that isn't even supposed to be here.

He fired again, and this time, finally, the net hit the stupid thing, and it blinked at him for a moment before it collapsed to the ground.

He left it. Nexus were boring to hunt. He already had the head of one on his wall at home.

"Now, where was I?"

Chapter Text

Soli?

Nothing.

No Soli.

There was a pulling sensation somewhere inside her, like a string tied to her presence. Soli was there, only far too distant.

Ahsoka didn't like it. Her head was too quiet, too empty.

Where am I?

She reached clumsily for the Force, and it answered her the same as ever. This provided enough reassurance to convince her she should open her eyes.

She was in a cage. Metal bars walled her in on all sides, and a cold metal floor pressed against her aching back, beneath which she could hear the hum of engines. Beyond her cage were others, and numerous prisoners, some unconscious like she'd been, others awake, their despair and fear hovering heavy in the Force.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"They're Trandoshans," said the man in the cage across from her, like that explained it.

"Okay, and--"

"They're going to release us and hunt us down for sport," he said heavily.

Ahsoka turned in a slow circle, a low growl wanting to leap from her throat. She didn't see any sort of door-- they must have put her in here somehow. She didn't have time for this. She had a war to fight. Her men--

So escape.

First things first, glowing wasn't going to help her hide, that was for sure.

A lot of things came more naturally to Ahsoka than her peers-- sometimes shaping the Force was a simple thought. This wasn't one of those times. The light didn't want to be hidden. Ahsoka visualized, imagined folding wings, imagined a veil, imagined the glowing light was inside her instead of around her. She tried pleading, tried reasoning, tried through sheer willpower to create a traditional shield, which lasted for about sixty seconds and gave her a terrible headache.

Ahsoka imagined the force that drew the stars together.

That did something. The light curled, tucked itself away, only it burned there, as if it really was a star beneath her skin.

She cringed, and waited, expecting something to happen. Tentatively, she reached a hand up to touch her forehead. It wasn't warm. The warmth existed only in her mind, or at least, it didn't exist physically.

Later, she could work on rearranging it so it didn't hurt. For now, she needed to try to See.

Comfort was a luxury, anyhow.

Soli was fury personified. Her blue eyes burned like two stars, each breath doubled as a growl, and her spikes stood fierce and sharp.

Obi-Wan was almost transported back to Geonosis, facing the snarling nexu in the arena. But none of Soli's rage was directed at him.

"Soli!" Plo had finished securing the outpost, and frowned at the nexu. "Soli, calm yourself."

He reached out a hand and she snapped her teeth, hissing, tail whirling away. Her anger wasn't a carefully pointed sword so much as a thunderstorm. "No! I will not!"

She didn't say it in words so precisely, but her defiance rang through the Force.

"What's wrong?" Obi-Wan asked. "What happened? Where's Ahsoka?"

"Ahsoka."

She echoed the thought, an echo of Ahsoka's presence projected through the Force.

"Gone!"

The absence conveyed that much; it ached, it hurt like a thorn driven into her chest. The anger sharpened. "They took her."

He was less sure of this thought, but it seemed like what she was trying to say. There was a sense of agency-- that there was someone responsible, that this was something someone had done. He was already testing the complexity of what he could understand from her, but he had to at least try. "Who?"

But he couldn't feel anything, save for Soli's feelings toward the person. Nothing objective about them. Nothing that would help him rescue Ahsoka.

"Valkare can only talk to the person they're tied to," Ahsoka had explained to him on Mortis. "Mother can't hear Soli, and I can't hear anyone else's Valkare either. Valkare can talk to each other, but the most they can do with another person is project emotions."

Emotions wouldn't convey who had taken Ahsoka or where she was now. "Someone took Ahsoka," he told Plo.

His fellow Jedi Master frowned.

"I can't understand enough for her to tell me who."

"We'll send the men out to search the forest. Maybe they'll find a clue."

Ahsoka fell asleep trying to See.

She dreamt of Soli, of holding her, feeling her fur, and the warmth of her presence where it belonged.

She awoke and chided herself for her carelessness. She was lucky she hadn't become lost in the Force.

The sound of the ship coming out of hyperspace had woken her, she realized. The engines hummed, a low droning sound.

Then, the floor fell out from beneath her and the world descended into chaos.

It was like being thrown into the middle of the battlefield without her lightsabers and without Rex or Obi-Wan or anyone.

And then she stopped thinking about what it was like and she ran.

Her battle training kicked in; she ran toward the only thing she could put between herself and her attackers: the trees.

As she looked back on the moment in retrospect, she was glad she'd been acting only on instinct. Her rational self might have hesitated a fraction of a second before leaping through the briars with their needle sharp thorns. Luckily, her rational mind wasn't there.

The briars cut her legs and her arms, and then they bent aside for her. They wove themselves tightly behind her, and she did not question this miracle. The forest sang with darkness, and it pressed against her presence, echoes of her fear mirrored in the landscape around her, settling somewhere in the back of her consciousness as she ran. She slowed, and then stopped, listening urgently.

The trees sighed.

The forest was still now, only the rustling of trees, or the stirring of birds perhaps. There was a heaviness in her chest. She felt for the burning stars of presences which were fewer in number than they had been mere minutes ago. She should have helped, should have done something. She was a Jedi; that was her job, not to run like a frightened tooka cat.

The island felt strangely close in her mind, like feeling a pulse beneath her fingertips, or hearing someone's heartbeat when she hugged them. The forest reached toward her, welcoming, anticipatory.

Ahsoka blinked. A vision flashed before her eyes, but not the kind she was used to. Not the kind that showed futures she could get lost in. No, this was her mind trying to understand the present. Her surroundings remained. The only thing that changed was her: a mess of iridescent black thread fell from her palms and her fingertips, light and sticky like spider silk.

Understanding dawned on her. This place could be hers. Most of the planets she set foot on had the deliberate influence of darkness someone else had shaped. Coruscant was the Sith's domain; the darkness there bent to his will; it helped Ahsoka only begrudgingly, taunting her all the while. The darkness on Mortis was less hostile, certainly, but it was the Son's.

And most other places had definitive auras. Their darkness had its own particular whims.

This was no one's, yet. It was undefined potential, wild fear that had never solidified into anything else.

Ahsoka could shape it. Could turn the Trandoshans' forest against them. The possibility of it was there, she could feel it.

The spider silk extended, not just from her hands; it bubbled out from every cut on her skin. Perhaps the darkness wasn't so untouched after all. The forest was hungry in the same twisted way as the hunters who terrorized its inhabitants. There were hunters, here, and then there were the hunted. The island had tasted Ahsoka's blood, it--

we know your power, your rightful place, they are nothing next to you, we could devour them together

--wanted her soul now too.

But it could help her.

It would be wrong to say that there wasn't a part of her that was captivated by the promise she felt in it. Anyway, all she wanted was to get back to Rex and Obi-Wan. That couldn't be bad--

She stared down at the black spider silk, and suddenly she imagined them seeing her like this, and it she couldn't believe what she'd been considering as a sense of revulsion and horror caught up with her. Force, this place was as monstrous as the beings who lorded over it.

The forest howled. The dark threads curled toward her, tightening against her own skin, wrapping around her throat.

It's not real, she reminded herself, and she concentrated on the thought of her master, of getting back to him, pushing the darkness from her mind.

She blinked. No more darkness. Just cuts on her leg, throbbing fiercely.

Someone was coming.

She froze, tensing, but the trio of presences didn't feel hostile.

A girl dropped down from a tree branch.

A Human girl, no older than herself, and definitely Force-sensitive. Trained too, if Ahsoka were to guess, though the light around her was...

"You need to come with us."

She looked up at the other two: a Cerean and a Twi'lek. Their presences matched the girl's, mostly.

Ahsoka frowned. "Who are you?"

The girl looked almost indignant the question, and the hint of skepticism in it. Evidently she didn't like her authority challenged. Or maybe she'd expected Ahsoka would implicitly trust her because of her light side presence, which, yes, to a point, but she wasn't going to not ask questions-

"I'm Kalifa. That's Jinx and O-Mer," she said, gesturing to her companions. "We used to be Jedi younglings. Come on; we can talk more when we get somewhere safe."

Soli stared out into hyperspace.

Ahsokah was there, somewhere. 

She was calling on the dark side. Soli could always feel when she did that: the echoes of the power that was not the steady current of light side energy, but something that hummed with a furious vitality that was simultaneously enthralling, and jarring such that set her teeth on edge. Normally she would feel Ahsokah's state of mind too: hopefully the still, singular focus which she channeled to call upon it properly and not a flash of impulsive fear or anger that would get her hurt.

But Ahsokah was somewhere far, far away. It was odd. Soli could feel the energy of her, for it was the source of her own, but she could not feel Ahsokah's thoughts.

She whimpered.

"I know. We're going to find her. But it wasn't doing any good to stay on Felucia," Rex told her.

It was harder to understand the others than it usually would be, because she couldn't listen to Ahsokah's mind making sense of the sounds, sorting them into meanings. She'd spent enough time listening to Ahsokah's thoughts that she'd learned a lot of them herself, but she had to think about each word.

She tried sending him a mental image of the reptilian alien that had taken Ahsokah. Soli didn't even have a word for it because Ahsokah hadn't been awake to think it for her.

Rex was better at listening to her than Obi-Wan was. Jedi weren't supposed to have favorites, but Soli couldn't help it. She liked Rex the most; liked the sound of his voice, the way he looked at her and talked to her directly more than anyone else and looked her in the eye and wasn't the slightest bit afraid of her.

But she couldn't tell him about the alien either.

"You do know where she is, huh?"

No.

"But you know who took her?"

Yes!

"Maybe we could get out a holopad and let her spell something somehow?" Jesse suggested.

Ahsokah can barely even spell.

"She's a nexu, Jesse. She can't spell things. Even Ahsoka can barely do that."

Ha.

Jesse frowned. "Okay, sorry. I'm just trying to come up with ideas. Ugh, if only she could draw or something."

I don't have hands.

"Wait," said Rex slowly. "That might actually work."

Her name was Ahsoka. She was strange; alternating between quiet and fierce and sometimes both at the same time.

She wanted to fight. She seemed astonished that they didn't.

It was going to be difficult to talk her out of getting herself killed, Kalifa thought. Ahsoka just didn't get it.

Normally, she would assume that with time it would sink in that she was stuck here now and the best she could hope for was to survive, but somehow Kalifa couldn't see that happening.

Right now she had averted her eyes, frustrated in the wake of their argument, but begrudgingly allowing a salve to be applied to her scratched legs and arms.

"Have some food," Jinx suggested.

She turned, her eyes falling on the cooking meat. "No thank you."

"You'll need your strength for tomorrow," O-Mer protested.

"Birds are sacred to my people. We can't eat them," she explained.

Kalifa could no longer bite her tongue. "This isn't the Temple; you're not gonna have a choice here! Acting like it is will get you killed."

She blinked. "I can catch my own food," she said coolly, enunciating her words just so to show her pointed teeth, as if reminding her they were there. "I've gone without eating way longer than this on the battlefield; I can call on the Force to help if I have to."

"Battlefield?" O-Mer asked curiously.

Ahsoka waved a hand impatiently. "In the war. I'm a padawan."

"War?"

She looked between them, disconcerted. "How long have you been here?"

She talked for a bit about the Separatists, about the war. Jinx and O-Mer listened eagerly, but Kalifa turned away. What did it matter what was happening? That world was lost to them now; it was best not to think about it, as far as she was concerned.

"You must be good at fighting!" Jinx's eyes lit up hopefully.

Ahsoka sighed. "It's too bad I don't have my lightsabers. I really hope my master found them and the sleemo that took me didn't get them at least. Anyway, escaping without them will be trickier. I need to think." She yawned.

"You should get some rest," O-Mer said quickly.

Kalifa did not like the way they were both looking at Ahsoka, expressions bright and eager.

You aren't going to get my friends killed in some reckless escape attempt. We know how to survive here. Isn't that enough?

"Okay. Ready?"

Fives stepped forward, holding the largest of Ahsoka's paintbrushes that he'd been able to find.

Soli twitched her tail.

"You've gotta hold still," he reminded her.

She sighed heavily, but allowed him to hold her tail and tie the brush on.

There hadn't been a lot of paint on the ship, but they'd managed to find a container of 501st blue used to paint armor.

Soli clumsily dipped her tail into the paint, submerging the brush up to its handle, and set off at a trot across the cargo bay. She painted a shape across the floor, lifted her tail and made dots-- so, a head? With eyes? Then a line-- a horn? Or antennae? Or... a tongue flicking out form its mouth?

"What has a head shaped like that?" Echo asked.

"It looks like that lizard Ahsoka caught and ate on time that made her throw up for two days afterward."

Rex blinked. "That's right! No, not the whole thing. She--" he frowned. "A lizard? Yeah, that part's right."

"Okay, so something reptilian," Echo said.

"Great, that narrows it down to like a whole three hundred species, let alone individual people--"

Soli hissed in frustration, and bolted out the door, dripping a trail of blue paint behind her.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka made herself a nest in a corner apart from the others, and curled up.

The shadows bent toward her, the forest's dark whispers prickling in the back of her mind. She did her best to block them out, and sleep claimed her fairly quickly.

"Hey, Ahsoka, wake up."

She jolted awake in response to the voice, a split second of fearful confusion making her reach out to the Force, preparing to fight for her life before she remembered where she was and why.

It was still dark, though not completely. Jinx was standing over her, holding a stick with a ball of brown fur at the top of it. "We've got to leave once the sun rises," he explained. "If we stay in one place during the day, the Trandoshans will find us."

She rubbed her eyes, and sat up. Another protest against their 'run and hide' mentality formed on her lips and died just as quickly as she discovered that yesterday's situation with the light inside her had not improved.

She burned. It needed somewhere to go. On the bright side, the pent up energy seemed to make her less tired, so there was that.

Jinx held out the stick to her. "I didn't have time to cook it, but I thought I remembered learning that you can eat meat raw?"

Ahsoka stared at the mass of brown fur. It was actually some sort of a small rodent, and the stick was a pointed spear, which he must have pierced through its body. "Yeah I can. I... Thanks."

She took a bite. She didn't usually eat things uncooked; she'd honestly grown accustomed to and preferred the texture of cooked meat. But she wasn't adverse to eating things raw, particularly at a time like this when she was especially hungry to begin with.

As she ate, she tried to address her Force presence, but she couldn't come up with any good solutions, other than pushing it further inside her, away from her skin, away from the places it was burning. She wondered how long she could do this for-- a star could only collapse so far before--

"Is it alright?" asked Jinx who had been watching her with an anxiety Ahsoka couldn't quite make sense of.

"It was very nice of you," she added quickly. "But I can catch my own food too."

He didn't seem to take offense. "I'm sure you can."

"Time to go," Kalifa called.

Soli didn't quite seem to know what to do with herself on Coruscant without Ahsoka with her. When they landed in the afternoon, she spent the rest of the day following General Kenobi around the Temple.

At night, though, she somehow found her way to the barracks, and sat down decisively at the foot of Rex's bed.

"No," he told her.

She looked up at him, radiating what he could only interpret as please, please I won't cause any trouble.

"No."

I'm lonely.

"Fine," he caved. "Just don't go wandering outside, alright? I'm pretty sure you being here is against regulations."

Soli's feelings about regulations would have been abundantly clear even if he couldn't feel her emotions, just from the way she slowly blinked all four of her eyes at him. He reached out and scratched her head, and she laid down, her eyes closing with a small sigh.

Rex reluctantly climbed into bed, and tried to banish his worries so he could fall asleep. If anything happened to Ahsoka, Soli would know.

"Shh! Someone's coming."

Ahsoka peered down through the canopy. She felt the fear in the Force, could practically hear the woman's pounding heartbeat. Or the forest could; it was sort of hard to tell the difference.

She frowned, recognizing the Human woman.

"She was on the same ship as me! We need to help her!" Ahsoka cried.

"We can't," Kalifa hissed. "We're not heroes here Ahsoka. Just survivors. Ahsoka, there were others with us, who thought like you, and they were all killed. Don't--"

A blaster shot rang out through the trees.

Ahsoka leapt.

She tumbled into the undergrowth below and got to her feet, reaching out. "Here lizard, lizard," she taunted in a loud singsong voice.

Above her, she could sense their three presences watching intensely. Kalifa's was resigned and regretful, as if she'd already died. O-Mer and Jinx watched with a mixture of terror and awe. She pushed them all from her mind, annoyed.

How could they just watch all this without even trying to do anything?

The Force jolted in warning.

A Trandoshan was grinning at her through the trees. Ahsoka charged toward him, calling on the Force to leap into the air, tearing his blaster from his hands. He grunted in surprise, then shoved her to the ground.

He's stronger than I thought.

He reached for his blaster.

Ahsoka lunged forward and tackled him. Or, she tried.

He threw her off of him and pinned her to the ground, hand smashing into her face.

She saw stars, and the sounds around her briefly turned to underwater static.

She sank her teeth into his arm.

Ahsoka, as a general rule, did not bite anyone. The largest reason for this was that usually she was fighting droids. Also, it was uncivilized, particularly when she had lightsabers-- too angry, not very Jedi proper at all.

There was nothing detached about it. The tactile sensation of it. The taste of blood in her mouth. It was visceral-- not that she liked any of it, no danger there, but something about it was wrong--

Now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure what.

She was about to die, anyway.

He had the blaster in his other hand now and she kicked, and the pain of the impact jolted through her leg, making her finally open her mouth.

His arm free, he got to his feet, pointing the blaster at her chest.

And then, inexplicably, he flew backward. She sat up to find Kalifa standing there, hand held out, Force sharpened into a point of rage.

The Trandoshan clutched his throat, legs kicking in the air, arm still bleeding.

Ahsoka threw her hands out in fury while Krell watched, smirking--

"Don't kill him out of anger," she protested, but her voice came out less insistent than she'd meant it to. It was so dark. The forest was saying something, and her head was spinning. She looked down at her leg, and for the first time realized there was a blaster wound there.

That was bad. If she couldn't walk--

The tree branches bent toward her.

We can help.

Was it wrong? She was prepared to accept death; she'd faced it before, but not like this.

She closed her eyes. Squeezed her hands into fists. The pain was surprisingly minimal, though; the forest was surprisingly careful about it. The tip of the vine must have been sharp. She didn't know for sure because she didn't look while it stitched her leg closed. She didn't mind watching while Kix treated her injuries, but this felt different. She didn't open her eyes till it finished.

The vine was just there. Rather innocent looking. She might not even have noticed it if the green didn't stand in such sharp contrast to the orange of her skin.

Won't it just die?

Even as she thought it, she felt a little thread extend outward from the pinprick of white hot light burning inside her. That was one place for the energy to go, she supposed. She tied some moss around it, more to hide it than anything else, because she didn't think Kalifa would react well to--

"Look. See how well that went?" Kalifa glared, hands on her hips. "You almost got yourself killed, and now we'll have to carry you around the forest."

Ahsoka stood. "But I didn't. And you won't."

That caught her off guard. "He shot you."

"The blaster bolt just barely grazed my leg," Ahsoka lied smoothly, gracefully. "I can walk."

"We should get out of here," called O-Mer. He was crouched down next to the Trandoshan's limp body. "He's not dead."

Something inside her relaxed at that, and Kalifa seemed to too.

"Come on, then," she said quietly.

Soli dreamed of the color green.

When she woke up, the first thing she did was look for Ahsokah.

Was she a little more there than she'd been yesterday? Soli couldn't tell if it was just desperation or if it was true. She could feel that Ahsokah was alive; the Force around her was tinged with green. The Force was living, growing, intentions were vines. That wasn't usually how either of them experienced the Force. Hm.

And there was fear, not sharp urgent fear, but a low hum of it.

And that was all. But the green was something and it hadn't been there yesterday.

Rex sat up. "Good morning," he said. "Any news?"

Sometimes, when she talked to Ahsokah, putting things into words helped her understand things, realize what they meant. Now she found that Rex's question did the same.

"She is with someone, or something, strong in the Force. The green is their presence."

"Green?" Rex echoed. She wondered how much he'd understood. "The person who took her?"

"No. Someone else."

She wondered for a moment about Mother, or Morai. But they would feel more distinctly, unmistakably light. Which this...didn't.

"What does green mean, Soli? The place she's in? A forest? Did you see it? Did she talk to you?"

"No," Soli answered. She blinked slowly, thinking of her dream, and changed her mind. "Maybe," she thought.

Chapter Text

"Any leads?"

Obi-Wan looked up from the database of bounty hunters known to have been employed by the Separatists, and was surprised to find his fellow Master and councilmember, Plo Koon, standing across from his at the other end of the table.

"No, not yet," he sighed. "Soli told us it was a reptilian alien, but that's not much to go on. You don't know Ahsoka, though. She's probably figuring out a way to escape as we speak." He said the words hoping they'd provide more comfort out loud than they currently were in his mind, to no avail. What if she's hurt? What if Dooku has her? What if she's lost in some vision again, without Soli there to help her wake up?

Plo inclined his head slightly. "I know her quite well. I was the one to bring her to the Temple," Plo said in a low voice. "She used to visit me often when she was a youngling."

Obi-Wan frowned. Ahsoka had never really mentioned him; he hadn't even offered to train her after Anakin had left. "I didn't realize," he said carefully. A strange sensation emerged on the periphery of his awareness in the Force. It was sharp, suddenly, wary. Its brightness was dulled; it had curled into itself, away from the Jedi Master, distant and aloof. "As much as I would love to reminisce, I'd best get back to my search."

"Yes, I came to ask if there was anything I could do to help."

"I don't think so," he said, and the words came out surprisingly curt. Somehow the idea of accepting his fellow Councilmember's help suddenly seemed outrageous; he was overcome by a vivid sense of certainty that Plo couldn't or wouldn't help at all.

Why do I think that?

"Well. May the Force be with both of you."

"Thank you," he said halfheartedly before turning back to the console.

Kalifa paced back and fourth, replaying the moment over and over again in her mind.

The feeling of the darkness thrumming at her fingertips. The unbridled rage she'd felt.

She couldn't get it out of her head. This was why it was better not to reach out to the Force here. It invited calamity. And death. Stupid Kalifa. Won't make that mistake again.

"Hi," Ahsoka meandered over to her.

"Go away."

"I wanted to say thanks for saving me. Maybe I should have listened to you."

"You think?" she said, rolling her eyes.

Ahsoka tipped her head, as if considering something. "You didn't, though."

"What?"

"I mean, you saved me. If you were taking your own advice, you'd have thrown up your hands and let that Trandoshan kill me."

Kalifa frowned. She does have me there. Why did I rescue her? "I think you're shortsighted and reckless. But I might be reckless too if I was as powerful as you. You can afford to be," she said, and even she wasn't sure if it was an accusation or an accolade. "We can't."

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. The forest air was cooling, and a faint breeze stirred the trees. "I understand."

If it had been a flippant comment, she might have let it slide, but given the earnestness with which the statement was spoken, it was impossible not to meet this assertion with some skepticism. "Do you?"

"I do. I have been faced with people I didn't think I could afford to challenge." She sucked in a breath. "What you did in the forest-- is that going to happen again?"

The question seemed meant to be taken at face value; it wasn't harsh, it wasn't condescending, it wasn't even chastising. It was just a question. And yet Kalifa couldn't keep herself from questioning the intent behind it, or rather, its coupling with the prior statement, about facing people she couldn't afford to challenge. Either Ahsoka had come here intending to ask her about using the dark side all along, or one thing had made her think of the other. Kalifa had an inkling it might be the latter, and she found herself quite curious as to why that might be.

"No," she said firmly. "So. Your Jedi training didn't quite prepare you for getting in fistfights with murderous Trandoshans, huh?"

Ahsoka answered seriously: "Not quite." Kalifa felt a flicker of something from her presence-- shame, maybe? It was hard to say, when she was so damn guarded and Kalifa was out of practice at using the Force to sense anything.

"What do they teach padawans?"

"Depends on the master," Ahsoka shrugged.

"Your master?"

"Fancy saberwork. Mechanical skills. More advanced Force techniques: different forms of meditation, mind tricks, and--"

"Mind tricks?" Kalifa echoed, a thrill running through her. "Are you any good at them?"

She cringed slightly. "Not really. They make the Force feel all sticky, like I'm trying to swim through honey."

"What are you good at, then? Because if you really are hellbent on getting us out of here, what you tried earlier isn't going to cut it."

"Point taken. I'm a better fighter with a lightsaber, or-- if we could get one of their blasters--"

You really think we wouldn't have thought of that before you got here? "They can deactivate them. If anyone else gets ahold of one."

Ahsoka tilted her head. "They must have a base, somewhere. If we could find a way to get in, there'd be communications there-- a way to call for help."

What do I do?

She'd tried fighting the usual way, and it had almost gotten her killed. And Kalifa had almost Fallen.

Seeing her standing there, her eyes so desperate and full of fear-- it had--

"Oh, Ahsoka." Krell smiled down at her, shaking his head. "You know who decides battle plans, don't you? You know who decides how many clones make it back from this mission. So I suggest you cooperate."

"No," she whispered to the forest.

It was still watching her. She could feel its presence, not one thing, but a web, a scattering of light and shadow through a multitude of leaves.

When she reached out to it, it resonated, like plucking a string, a note vibrating through the Force, only for her to hear.

Don't do it Ahsoka.

She could practically hear Obi-Wan, his imagined council interrupting her thoughts for a moment.

But what else could she do here, forced to hide her light away? What else was there?

She reached out, more resolutely this time. The Force quivered, and an answering note rose inside her.

The forest replied in kind, singing back to her, beckoning her forward, towards what, she didn't know. She knew only that it could help her--

You don't need help; not from something that will corrupt you.

But she did. Obi-Wan's advice would mean nothing if she never saw him again. And she would be corrupted anyway if she stayed here long enough, what with the way her presence drew energy from her surroundings.

She stepped forward again, toward the place from which the forest seemed to call to her.

And the music inside her grew louder too. At first it was soft and delicate as a note hummed to herself. But it grew into a resonance like the striking of a bell. She felt inclined to put her hands over her montrals, even though the sound was not something she perceived through them at all.

She stumbled forward resolutely, until she was sure her head was going to explode. She was the bell; the sensation in the Force struck her and rattled painfully against her.

She forgot about music. It was a clap of thunder, and she was the thing struck by lightning as she lowered her shields and let the forest in.

Chapter Text

She found herself curled in fetal position on the ground.

It was no longer night. Daylight filtered through the leaves above her, but the canopy had grown dense, and undergrowth surrounded her on all sides to hide her in her moment of vulnerability.

She blinked slowly, extending awareness through networks of roots and mycelium. She thought she was looking for something. There was something she wanted. She couldn't remember, but she was sure she'd know it when she found it. Only she didn't find it.

What would I want that isn't here?

But she hadn't always been here, had she? She had been somewhere else-- had been someone else. She remembered the roots' impressions of her footsteps walking over them, that she had been separate from them-- She tried to remember which parts of her didn't belong to the forest, wriggling within herself, trying to separate out what she had been.

Ahsoka Tano, Jedi Padawan.

She blinked again, and sat up, newly aware of the motion, of being in her own body. So very small, it was-- tight and constraining, and yet the feeling of it was cathartic somehow; like an embrace. 

It occurred to her to try to stand; she could remember standing, but the execution of it was harder. After a few tries, she figured out that her muscles sort of seemed to remember how to do it. Her mind definitely didn't, but she was remembering other things, enough things. The forest was helping, though it could have just as easily not reminded her at all, could have stolen her away and used her as a puppet and she would never have known she was supposed to be anything else.

"Kriffing idiot," she chided herself.

The sound of her voice made her jump, and promptly lose her balance, falling onto all fours. The position wasn't right, but somehow it felt almost comfortable, almost familiar...

Soli walked on all fours. "Soli!" she cried. She wanted Soli, she missed Soli. Soli was home. She was trying to go home.

Something clicked into place in her mind. She was trying to get the Trandoshans off her island. Her island? But it wasn't her island; she was meant to go home, back to the Temple, and rescue the younglings, and Ahsoka was supposed to just be Ahsoka and the forest was supposed to just be a forest.

The cocoon of undergrowth around her separated itself. At first, she only felt up to walking, but as she reacquainted herself with the movement of her legs, she found it easy to traverse the canopy. Her legs were no longer foreign to her, and she could leap easily between most branches. Where she couldn't, she could plant vines, or make the branches grow where she wanted them, bridging any gaps she encountered.

She was acutely aware of the forest around her; she felt every nearby bird nesting in a hollow, every creature skittering through the undergrowth, even the pinprick bites of insects feasting on leaves. If the Trandoshans' base were in the forest, the trees would tell her about it, so she made her way to the edge of her awareness, where the trees ended and she could see the sandy beach.

In this fashion, she searched the perimeter of the island, her frustration increasing as she found nothing but barren coastline.

The first night after Ahsoka vanished, Kalifa held out hope, even taking the risk of having them stay in the same place so she might find them again. But by the second morning, she was convinced she must have been found and killed. Jinx and O-Mer seemed dispirited too, but these things happened. There was nothing to do but carry on.

Still, the though of Ahsoka lingered in her mind. Her discontent seemed to have been contagious. For the first time in-- oh, a long time, Kalifa wondered if their might be a way off the island.

She was right. They must have some kind of a base.

Back when they'd first arrived, they'd tried looking. They'd been here long enough to know the forest very well indeed. She'd assumed that if it could be found, they'd have found it, and so she'd given up. But the forest wasn't small, and now a new thought occurred to her. We move around during the day to avoid being found. Whose to say they keep their headquarters in the same place constantly? What if they move every few days? Gritting her teeth, Kalifa stared off into the expanse of trees.

She turned to Jinx and O-Mer. "I'll be back," she told them.

She closed her eyes, and reached out to the Force as best as she could.

There was life everywhere, and echoes of fear that made her head spin and throb painfully. But she was no stranger to fear. She reached further, focusing, and began to walk.

For a long time, there was nothing. Nothing, nothing.

Go back, something in her mind whispered. But she pressed onward, resolute.

No.

She thought she might be able to use the Force at least for something as simple as sensing another presence.

She was a fool. She didn't even sense the Trandoshan watching her. She only realized he was there when she saw him with her own two eyes.

Bang!

Kalifa turned to run, and the Force was with her. The blaster bolt didn't hit.

Instead, it hit the dead tree above her. In a split second, her relief died away as she looked up.

The Force did not hate her. If it had, the tree would have crushed her.

Instead, she tripped over a hollow in the ground, landing sprawled on her side, and the tree fell over her ankle, right where the hollow was. She didn't even here a snap. If I'm really lucky, it's just a really bad bruise or a sprain, she thought.

Of course, none of that mattered. As she attempted to move her leg, she found it to be completely stuck.

The Trandoshan leaned against a tree, steadying the blaster as he took aim, and Kalifa held her breath, waiting for him to fire.

For the third time, Kalifa resigned herself to death.

Instead, he screamed, Pulling, flailing wildly, as if caught in an invisible spiderweb. He turned the weapon he'd been pointing at her and began hitting the tree frantically.

Kalifa stared, trying to make sense of what the kriff was going on. The tree trunk he'd been leaning against had grown a burl where he was touching it-- or had been. His left arm was now embedded in the wood. It was as if the bark had grown around it, devoured it.

Kalifa laughed in relief.

"Need some help?"

Ahsoka strode through the trees, her expression unphased. She didn't look like she should've: half dead from being alone in the forest for days running from the Trandoshans. No, her montrals were wrapped elegantly in ivy, and her eyes gleamed brightly.

Kalifa glanced nervously at the fallen tree pinning her leg. "I'd love to get out of here if the trees are eating people now."

"Don't worry." Her voice was different. It was almost melodic, rich and layered. The cadence fell in perfect complement to the breeze rustling the leaves. "They won't hurt you."

"That was you," Kalifa realized, torn between horror and delight. "You did that."

She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, another voice spoke. "You did this?" The Trandoashan had stopped his frantic struggles, eyes darting to Ahsoka.

She turned her head. "You did this. You brought your hunger and bloodlust here, seeded the forest with it, and now you reap its harvest." For such a condemnation, it was spoken surprisingly mildly, as if admonishing a child.

He tilted the blaster towards her. "I'll have your head, Jedi."

"You will not. Put down your weapon, and I'll let you go."

Ahsoka turned her head, staring into the forest. Another Trandoshan's voice called out: "Dar? Are you alright? I heard--"

Dar fired.

Ahsoka leapt out of the way, and the blaster bolt singed a smoldering hole in the tree trunk behind her.

Ahsoka gasped as though the blaster had hit its intended target, and she fell to the ground, on all fours.

The blaster fired again, but it went far astray, burning through another tree branch. "Stop!" he shouted. Fuzzy brown vines had begun to grow out from the tree bark, climbing up the part of his arm that wasn't already trapped.

"I can't concentrate when--" her voice rose to a shout as he fired again. "Put down the blaster!"

He fired wildly, and all Kalifa could do was hope nothing hit either of them.

The vines continued their progress, having reached his shoulder, they were thickening, becoming strong and woody stems, spreading across his chest and neck now.

"Dar!" The voice called again.

The blaster slipped out of his hand, clattering to the ground as the vines grew along that arm. His fingers twitched wildly. His eyes slid closed.

Ahsoka leapt to her feet. "No," she breathed, reaching out a hand toward him. The tips of the vines uncurled slightly--

"WITCH! That was my SON!"

Another Trandoshan came barreling out of the forest.

Ahsoka jumped. "He's not dead! I can--"

He seemed to forget his blaster was a blaster, swinging it through the air and slamming it into her head.

Astonishingly, she remained conscious, stumbling out of the way. She leapt forward, her hand brushing against the log that had pinned Kalifa's leg, and yellow orange fungi spread across the bark like wildfire. Kalifa pushed, and the rotting wood gave way.

"Run."

She didn't need telling twice.

She grabbed Ahsoka's hand and they bolted through the forest.

Ahsoka stared at the burning bits of wood.

("Will it hurt you if we gather firewood?"

"Just...dead things, if you can. If not, I'll live.")

It wasn't the same as shooting one of her trees with a blaster bolt.

And even that hadn't hurt her so much as made everything around her panicky and wild. The plants she'd been careful coaxing had seized on the energy of her presence, no longer to obey her, but fighting for their own lives.

And killing Dar.

It hadn't been her choice-- she'd been trying to regain her control over them, to get them to listen.

Still, though. It was my Force energy that let them do that. Normal plants can't just fight Trandoshans without help.

She was not used to this way of being. The part of her that was the forest was still reeling from the concept of giving orders as an individual. Being an 'I'. Existing as something other than the hum of energy between everything.

The others were being kinder to her now. Kalifa was grateful, and almost envious. Jinx was watching her in quiet awe. O-Mer was curious, and just relieved to see her.

"The base isn't in the forest."

Three heads turned sharply towards her.

She cleared her throat. She'd found nothing. Felt nothing. There was only one conclusion she could come to. "It's up there." She pointed a finger towards the stars.

"Shit. How are we going to fight them there?"

"You won't have your tree magic or whatever," Jinx added. "We don't stand a chance without that."

Ahsoka nodded. He wasn't wrong. "No," she agreed, thinking slowly. There was something that felt familiar; memories passed through her mind of planning battles with her master, with Rex. She wanted to go home. She was going to go home.

She scrunched her eyebrows together, trying to lean more into that part of her mind. Strategy.

She wished she could use her Sight.

The shadows didn't want to take shape for her. They didn't like the foreign presence intertwined with hers-- astonishingly something both her darkness and light agreed on. But their reactions were different: while the light sat still buried, waiting to defend against the intruder should she let it out, the dark had just turned lazy and uncooperative. It was hard to use either directly, except to feed energy to the plants in exchange for their assistance.

And what resident of her forest wouldn't want to grow a decade's worth in the span of seconds? She had an army here, and nothing at all in the sky.

The answer was suddenly quite clear.

"We need to get them to land it here"