Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ahsoka’s not stupid. Young? Yes. Out of her depth? Probably. Stupid? Absolutely not.

It’s not the Jedi way to be prideful, but Ahsoka knows her value. She knows she’s clever, highly adaptable, and at the top of her classes as an Initiate. Master Yoda wouldn’t have assigned her as a padawan so early if she wasn’t capable.

Of course, there’s ‘not stupid' and there’s ‘knowledgeable’. And Ahsoka isn’t stupid, but after so many months she admits that she’s not... fully knowledgeable either. 

She keeps this thought in mind as she trails behind her Master, barely shoulder height and skipping to keep up. The Jedi pair weave their way through the mess, past hundreds of identical faces, grabbing their rations and sitting tensely across from each other. 

At least, Ahsoka thinks he’s tense. She’s certainly tense. The noise of the ship is an almost constant drone in her montrals, different from the buzz of the temple. She’s only just now learning to tune out the constant hum of the lights, clicks of gears, and faint electrical screech of the high power technology. She’s never been in a place so consistently loud, with orders yelled at top volume in every corridor and people laughing, joking or talking in every room. The Force, too, is loud here— hundreds of beings unaccustomed to holding their signatures inside, unable to politely mute their auras. 

Not to mention the bottled torrent of power that is her new Master, although he at least is careful to keep his presence as withdrawn as possible. His power is like a domesticated rancor on a leash—tame for now but impossible to ignore.

A Jedi should not lie, but since no one has asked if she’d broken down once or twice (or several times) from how totally overwhelmed she is by the comparably amplified sounds and sensations, she doesn’t think it’s a lie to not mention it. 

Master Skywalker’s face does...something, and he hums at her in what she’s pretty sure is a question. 

And here, here is the problem. 

Ahsoka had been at the top of her clan despite her young age and impulsive nature. She’d studied attentively, and struggled yes, but she’d overcome. She'd done exceptionally well in all of her classes. 

Including her class on Species-Specific Markers. 

But here in the wild, where the faces are moving organically and noises are made without intent, it’s so much harder. 

Master Skywalker’s face doesn’t move the way the hologram of the human face did in class. And none of the clones' faces move like the hologram OR her Master! The same is true of their voices, their gestures and...

Her Master makes the same noise again, raising one eyebrow and pointing his spoon at her uneaten food. That’s when she realizes that she’s been staring at him for who knows how long, probably projecting uncertainty into the thin, scrappy threads they call a training bond.

“Everything alright Snips?” he asks, and she only knows it’s a question because he tilts his head to the side, and that is something that she knows humans do. 

Her lekku darken and flick in answer, and it would give away her embarrassment/shame if any of her human companions could understand what the gestures meant. As it is, she meets Master Skywalker’s eyes confidently and pulls her mouth into a smirk. 

“Just peachy, Skyguy!”

The man across from her makes another face, one she almost recognizes, but then returns the smirk. 

It’s either good-natured or condescending, but Ahsoka chooses to believe the former.

Droids are easy because it doesn’t matter that she has no way of knowing what they’re thinking or feeling. The only thing she has to worry about with a droid is whether or not it’s trying to kill her, which is fairly easy to understand. 

....Actually, there are two things she has to worry about, the second of which is not getting killed. 

And, for a fourteen-year-old who’s still new to war, Ahsoka thinks she does a decent job. She is still alive, after all. But some days—some battles—are easier than others. 

Luckily her ankle isn’t too terrible, and she’s almost positive that she’s cleaned and bandaged it correctly. It’s stopped bleeding at any rate, and she’d figured out how to offset her limp with a clever Force trick. 

(She knows it’s most likely not allowed, but Master Skywalker hadn’t seemed to notice. Or if he has, he hasn’t said anything. Probably because she’s avoiding him as much as possible, but that’s beside the point.)

Kix keeps shooting her looks that she can’t interpret, but when she smiles at him he turns away. No one can see the bandage inside her boot, and no one can interpret the way her left lek trembles. Really, it’s better this way. Or...that’s what she’s telling herself. Some of the men—her men—were hurt much worse, and they deserved the care more than she did. She brought it on herself— she should have moved faster. 

The last thing Ahsoka wants is to be even more of a burden than she already is, so she can work around the pain until it heals naturally. All she has to do is keep up her little trick, smile at Kix and keep avoiding her master.  He’s always busy anyway, with the war and all.

Totally doable. 

She fakes it for three days. 

Master Skywalker fixes her with A Look, and she smiles at him. Whatever expression he’s wearing doesn’t change, so she doesn’t change her smile. 

They stay at the impasse for almost a minute, neither face changing. Ahsoka thinks she’s narrowed down his expression to either disappointment, anger, apathy, concern or teasing. Or some unholy combination of them. Or maybe he's just tired? It is late, and they’d just finished meditating...

“So,” says the human sitting across from her, “how are you”

(Lack of nickname, probably not teasing her then.)

“Um...fine?” she responds, carefully keeping her voice light. Her left lek is still trembling, but she doesn’t move to stop it. 

“Ahsoka” 

His expression changes minimally, but nothing gives him away. She waits for him to continue, and realizes belatedly that whatever else he’s communicating is in his tone. Which she can’t interpret, not when it’s this subtle. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out Skyguy.”

(Eyebrows down, that’s...humans do that when they’re angry, she thinks. Or...or was that questioning? Sometimes Master Skywalker does that when he thinks, so maybe concern? Or maybe he is teasing her, and she’s just not understanding.)

“You need to be direct with me,” he says, and she hopes it’s kindly. 

“Okay,” Ahsoka smiles, moving to get up. She knocks into her injured ankle accidentally, but she’s had enough practice keeping her face neutral. Only the way both lekku curl into themselves indicates she’s in pain, but she already knows most beings without lekku just think that’s how they move with gravity. 

Master Skywalker grabs her hand, tugging her carefully to the ground. His expression is different now, eyebrows close together and mouth turned downwards. 

(Almost certainly disappointment then, or anger. Maybe confusion? Whatever it is is...not good.)

“Ahsoka” he begins again, and he doesn’t sound disappointed or angry... she doesn’t think, “may I ask you a question?”

She nods carefully, doing her best to keep her face neutral.

“Where are you hurt, and why haven’t you mentioned it before”

“...What?”

The human exhales—sighs, she thinks— and closes his eyes. Tired , then. 

“How,” she swallows, scrunches her shoulders up to try and hide the darkening stripes of her lekku, “did you find out?” 

Her master opens one eye, and points to her still trembling lek. “You haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

Everything stops, the entire galaxy grinds to a halt at that moment. Except for Ahsoka’s heart which decides to go at four times its normal speed. She grabs at her traitor lek self-consciously, running her hand down it to try and smooth her deepening blush away. 

Master Skywalker hums but doesn’t say anything else. Ahsoka opens her mouth to say...something. To deny it, or call him crazy, or ask what he’s talking about, or...something! But her brain refuses to form the words in Basic, and whatever stuttered exclamation she’s trying to make comes out in Togruti instead. Her hands move from her lekku to her face, humiliation/embarrassment/horror causing her to hide desperately. 

“It’s okay,” Master Skywalker whispers, and Ahsoka chooses to believe that he’s being comforting and not patronizing, “I still end up using Huttese when my emotions get the better of me.”

She hears him shift and peeks through her fingers as he moves to be beside her. His smile is lopsided, which she knows is good. He’d given her a lopsided smile when he’d agreed to take her on as his apprentice, so she’s pretty sure it means something like “ acceptance ”. It’s not enough to shake the Basic from her tongue though, and so her question comes out high pitched, her lekku flicking to accentuate the point.

“I speak ‘lekku’,” her Master explains, answering her signed question, “well...understand it. The same way I ‘speak’ binary. I couldn’t, for example, do the signs myself but...”

“How long have you—” interrupts Ahsoka, recovering her words as her heart decreases its pace. She cringes instantly, berating herself internally for interrupting her Master.

“Pretty much forever,” Master Skywalker responds, and for some reason, he waves his hand around as though swatting a bug, “I learned it as a kid. Although to be honest, I’m better at the signed aspect of the language, the spoken parts of either aren’t things I ever really learned. 

“But anyway,” her Master continues, “you never answered my questions.”

Anxiety swells as he refocuses, blue-grey eyes staring unblinkingly at her. For a moment, Ahsoka considers hiding it, but...if he already knew...

She removes her boot with a hiss and turns away from him as he unwraps the bandage. 

“Oh Snips...” he says, and she knows she’s not in trouble because he uses her nickname, “why didn’t you tell me? Or Kix, for that matter?”

Ahsoka shrugs noncommittally, trying to play it off like no big deal. Heavy silence meets her response, and she knows that he’s waiting for her to say more.

“It’s not that big a deal...”

More silence, heavier now.

“Honestly Master, Kix has better things to deal with and you were busy and I can take care of myself— I may be young but I’m fully capable,” she’s rambling now, which is very un-Jedi of her but she can’t seem to shut up, “It’s just a minor injury, and I didn’t want to burden you when you didn’t...”

She can't finish the sentence, can't force herself to speak her secret aloud. That would make it real, and it would mean she has to face it. And she's not ready yet, not strong enough to talk about how—

“I didn’t what, Snips?”

(Is he being harsh, or gentle? His face gives her no clues, but his voice is soft so maybe gentle? Unless he’s one of those people who get softer instead of louder when they’re truly upset...) 

“When you didn’t choose me,” she whispers. Want me her lekku sign, the traitors. 

All of the troublesome emotions she’s been ignoring rise to her awareness. Ahsoka is not stupid, she knows she hadn’t been asked for, knows she isn’t needed. Knows she has to earn her place as Apprentice to The Chosen One. 

(And she hasn't yet, she knows that too. Kriff, after weeks of living and fighting together, She can’t even read his expression! She’s not worthy, and she knows if he ever realizes it he’ll send her away. A child, cast out in disgrace.)

The Force seems to reject the emotions she’s trying to release into it. Or...as Master Yoda would say, as she’s not releasing into it. The silence continues to press down on her, making the ‘background’ noises of the ship pound into her montrals like blaster-fire. She’s certain he’s preparing his dismissal speech. 

And then, suddenly, there’s a human arm around her shoulders. A warm hand rests above her ankle, and she feels the last bit of soreness melt away as Master Skywalker heals her injury.

“You know, Obi-Wan didn’t choose me either.”

Ahsoka nods because the way it’s stated makes it seem like she was supposed to know already.

Master Skywalker blinks at her silently and his mouth purses for a moment. 

All at once, like a light in the dark, there are...feelings. She can feel them float around him as he speaks, and what she thought was a stern lecture takes a sharp turn into comforting/reassurance.

“So I get it, I know the feeling. But... you never have to prove anything to me, alright? You’re allowed to struggle and make mistakes because you’re learning, and it won’t make you any less my Padawan. I’m here to guide you and teach you. And I don’t know if that’s...the greatest idea but... I may not have chosen you, but I do want you, and nothing you could say or do will change that.”

Another nod, because she understands it even if she isn’t quite ready to accept it. 

She catches him as they leave their quarters the next morning before her impulsive courage wears off and she loses her nerve.

“Master?” she begins, shifting her weight between her feet silently, “You didn’t grow up in the temple, right?”

He stiffens visibly but makes a noise she’s almost positive means he wants her to continue talking. 

“Well, I have to tell you something, because last night you said I didn’t have to prove anything, and you’re here to help but I wanted to know how to explain it. And if you did grow up in the temple then it would be redundant and I—”

“Yeah?”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Ahsoka plants her feet, rolls her shoulders back, and does everything she can to project confidence. She hadn’t planned on revealing this...weakness, but it feels right to speak it.

Terrifying, but right.

“Well, you know how all the younglings are separated into clans?” A nod. “So, the creche masters try to put similar species together when they can. Sometimes it doesn’t happen but mostly it does, when there are a lot of similar species. It makes it easier to cater to the dietary and language needs, as well as any specific environmental needs that younglings have. And the group you start with is the group you’re with, like... we don’t really change around? So typically we grow up with lots of similar beings—My group was about an 80/20 Twi’lek/Togruta split”

Ahsoka would describe her master’s face as ‘seriously curious ’. “Okay...”

She takes a deep breath.

“And we all take classes on learning other species’ expressions and communications, and I promise I did really well in the class! But—”

“But you haven’t grown up around humans, and you’re finding it hard to read us now that you’re surrounded?”

“Exactly!” she nods frantically, “At the temple, most of the people I talked with had lekku, or they were adults who were shielding their emotions. And Jedi emotions don’t really...matter so much at the Temple, I guess. But with you and the men it’s different, and I can tell that it’s different. Human expressions are so... different in real life, and I just...did you have the same problem? With other species?”

Master Skywalker stays quiet for a moment, breaking eye-contact and looking away from her.

“Not me specifically,” he states at length, and Ahsoka’s spirits plummet, “but only because I grew up surrounded by so many different species all the time. It was, however,” he shoots her a smile, “hard for me to get used to the Jedi at the Temple. So I kind of get it. But that’s not what you wanted to ask, is it?”

Ahsoka fidgets lightly under his knowing gaze. “Um...no. I wanted to know if you had any tips, because humans don’t have lekku to show their tone, and I think it would be good for my education and leadership if I could accurately communicate with the men—”

“And it would make you more comfortable”

“A Jedi doesn’t need comfort,” she recites automatically.

(It’s not totally clear if he’s rolling his eyes at her, or the statement.)

“Regardless, it would make you more comfortable, yes?”

“Well...yes.”

“Snips,” Master Skywalker says with a grin, his lopsided one again, “I have a perfect plan!”

Ahsoka isn’t stupid, and neither is her Master. Almost through determination alone, they figure things out.

Anakin teaches her his favourite meditation, a dual force-exercise/breathing technique where the user manipulates beads into larger and larger shapes, before shrinking them down again. Even for Ahsoka, who’s been meditating for as long as she could remember, it’s easier to release her tension, anxiety and insecurities when she’s focused on maintaining the pattern of ‘Inhale: triangle, square, pentagon, hexagon, heptagon, octagon. Exhale: reverse ’ than the feelings themselves. He has to move the beads at first, while she learns how it works, but it’s still one of her favourite exercises.  

They meditate together, focusing on each other’s energy and learning to identify it. Their bond grows, no longer the tattered, frail thread but a woven braid connecting them.

(This, more than anything else, convinces Ahsoka that she is indeed wanted .)

It doesn’t take long, once they put their heads together. And once the bond is established, their plan goes into motion.

At first, she’d thought that Anakin would maybe give her a cheat-sheet, or a classroom-style run down of human emotions in action. Instead, her Master kept his side of the bond cracked open whenever they were close enough to converse, letting his tone and intention float through it.

And oh, Ahsoka hadn’t realized how...emotional her master was. How much emotion and passion he pours into every word he speaks or task he takes on. It's almost overwhelming at first, but...

It's comforting too, to know that he isn’t a robot. This window into his soul, his psyche. Anakin cares about everything , and now she’ll be able to finally Understand. To know when he’s teasing or serious, or both. 

As homework (because Anakin is, first and foremost, her teacher) he has her practicing her awareness. Not on her physical surroundings, but the emotional ones. He shows her how to sense the emotions of those around her without invading their mind or privacy, and quizzes her at random.

“Kind of like giving everyone lekku. It’s not an exact science, but neither is reading facial expressions. It’ll give you an idea, at the very least.” Anakin had explained with a shrug.

The wave of feelings she receives when she hugs him gratefully speaks of his pride in her, and his care.

It’s the best lesson she’s ever received.

Chapter Text

The Jedi and Clones aren’t all that different. 

Even the least war-savvy civilians have a general idea of it. Jedi and Clones are both huge groups of connected beings, emotionless and interchangeable. Mysterious warriors who don’t belong, Beings taken directly from children's tales. 

Much of it, Ahsoka knows, is true. The Clones and Jedi are like two huge families, with stories and traditions and inside jokes. They don’t really belong to any one system or planet—they don’t really belong to anyone but themselves when it comes down to it. 

(She doesn’t know of any Jedi who wouldn’t sacrifice everything for their troops. That kind of loyalty goes both ways)

But for the most part, the rumours are wrong. Not a single member of the 501st— or any other battalion, for that matter— are interchangeable. Each individual brings something new and different to the field, despite their identical genome. And Ahsoka has heard some of the stories people tell about Jedi. They are, quite frankly, a little bizarre, although she can kind of see where the authors get their ideas. 

Most importantly, neither party is “emotionless”. The Jedi way can certainly seem emotionless, but really they embrace and control their emotions. Getting rid of them entirely would be...

Well, she’s not sure it’s even possible! 

Of course, when stray emotions bled out into the physical world, it was a necessity to learn to control them. Once when Ahsoka had had a nightmare, for example, she’d shattered the fluorescents in her Clan Room, bringing the glass shards around her in a protective sphere while still completely asleep. And she’d only been four! 

(How they’d fixed that particular scenario is still a mystery to her. She remembers waking up, seeing the crystalline structure along with several older caregivers, and then falling back asleep. They’d had a very long talk in the morning about meditation and control, and that she remembers.)

The Clones, her boys , are even more expressive. Sure, in battle they put their sabacc faces on, and there was always careful neutrality when they're around anyone they aren't sure about, but in general? 

Ahsoka sees a wider range of human expressions during meal times with the 501st than during her entire semester of Species-Specific markers! And each face, while identical, makes them differently—the same emotion shows up in vastly different ways. 

Which is...not overly helpful. For her part, Ahsoka doesn’t really need these little markings to tell her boys apart. They all shine so differently in The Force, so knowing that Rex scrunches up his lips and Hardcase drums his fingers doesn’t do much except confuse her.

Obviously, her boys are all different people, and logically it follows that they express things differently but...they all have the same voice! The same face! How did it...work to have ‘happiness’ as 400 totally unique markers?! And not a single unifying, standardized appendage to guide them! Yet somehow, someway, they all understood each other?

Watching them all flawlessly communicate creates a sharp longing somewhere deep within her, too deep to reach via mediation and too persistent to fully release. Watching Anakin blend in so seamlessly doesn’t help, even after their talk. 

Ahsoka is making progress. Her Master tells her so, often enough that she almost has to believe it. And, when it’s one on one, she can figure it out. One on one, with no other distractions or threats that demand her attention, she can tune into the emotional aura surrounding her human companions and make an educated guess about their feelings. 

(Anakin is easiest, even when he shuts their bond. Rex is next, then Kix, then Hardcase, then Ridge and Jessie.)

But the Clones rarely do things alone. And several people—several auras blending and interacting with each other—is so overwhelming that normally she just...shuts it off. Closes as much of her awareness as she can and does her best with her eyes.

There’s a strategy, one she’s developed over the almost-year she’s been with them. When Anakin joins their leisure time, she just sticks with him. Even if he decides to test her by filtering his emotions out of their bond, she knows his tells well enough to see what he’s feeling. When she gets overwhelmed and frustrated, or when she’s too tired to parse through the little tics he makes, her master opens their bond back up. From there, it’s just responding naturally. 

(Which is easy, because Ahsoka is naturally an expressive Being. It had been more of a problem at the Temple, but here it’s just...normal.)

When she’s on her own, it’s trickier. But no one comments about how she laughs at jokes a second too late. If they notice that she doesn’t react until someone else in the group does, they don’t mention that either. If she sticks a little closer to the troopers she’s more familiar with, well that's her business. 

And she doesn’t do badly! She knows that she doesn’t because she’s overheard several troopers talk about how much she fits in, just like one of them. 

“Basically a Cadet,” they’d said, “better than some of the shinies.”

So it doesn’t matter that her loneliness is basically a palpable thing inside her. Or that she’s nervous anytime they have downtime, terrified that she’s going to do or say the wrong thing at the wrong time. It’s really not important that no one understands her fully, and that she doesn’t fully understand them 

It doesn’t. 

Not...not even a little bit. 

She’s not bothered at all.

“What are you doing”

She’d heard him coming, the steady footsteps registering in her brain as the sound reached her montrals. She could tell it was him over the cacophony of noise whatever farkled machine they're installing in the med-bay is making. 

Even here, as far away as she can get from the noise while still close enough to be on call, the sound of the drill and metal-on-metal is more painful than blaster-fire. 

Ahsoka is certain the...thing is important, because they’d had to dock on Coruscant to put it in, and she’s glad to have it if it’s going to save more of her boys. 

But it’s so...loud!

Rex is still standing there, staring down at her. 

Grabbing the datapad beside her, she writes her answer as clearly as she can with how badly her hands are shaking.

Meditating.

The human above her snorts, either amused or annoyed and knocks on the counter above her.

“Is it protocol for Jedi to meditate inside cabinets”

Ahsoka feels her stripes darken, and the extra sensation is almost painful.  She shrugs nonchalantly.  

Even like this, she knows that he doesn’t buy it. She doesn’t care what he thinks (except that she does ), this was the best solution she could think of. 

Because it’s not just the noise. The extra, unexpected and jarring sounds may have been the straw that broke the gundark's back, but they’re not the only issue. 

There's some kind of virus making rounds throughout the Company. The other soldiers had gotten stuffy noses and mild headaches. A minor annoyance with no lingering effects. Apparently, the human illness has nastier effects on Togruta biology, resulting in a mostly lost voice and extreme fatigue. Kix is certain it will pass, and Skyguy had jokingly said that it would be a ‘nice change’ to have her silent. 

She’d made a very rude signal to him with her lekku, and he’d laughed, the bantha. 

But she’s still a Padawan-Commander, so she’d gotten up at the same time as everyone else and followed her normal schedule as much as possible. And she knows, knows knows knows that it’s helpful, that it boosts the morale of her men to see her—even when she’s sitting to the side instead of leading their drills. It’s helpful enough that Kix hasn’t sedated her (yet),  so she keeps going. 

Anakin had left when they’d docked, off to see Padme, she's sure, and left her in charge of the Resolute. Then he’d left Rex in charge of her, and she couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. She couldn’t tell if Rex’s response was cheeky or respectful, and her Master was gone before she’d even fully registered what was happening.

And it’s not the first time she’s been in command, she’s not...she’s not a shiny or a youngling or anything like that! But for some reason today the pressure had overwhelmed her. Completely and totally overwhelmed her. All of a sudden, the noise of the ship was pounding, and she couldn’t see properly and the cloth of her clothes was itchy and tight. Her shielding had dropped somehow, and there were feelings everywhere that she couldn’t interpret or push away. Her mind is a foggy mess, and no one noticed because she can’t communicate and— 

Rex makes a shushing noise, squatting in front of her and reaching out a hand. Ahsoka flinches instinctively, the sound sharp and the motion threatening. 

“Ahsoka”

Worst of all, she can’t understand . She’s too tired, too drained to try and parse out what the humans around her are trying to say. The mechanics installing the new machinery had said something—she doesn’t remember what— and she’d laughed, pushing the sound past her strained vocal cords. She'd fought her sickness in an effort to connect, trying to join in on the joke. They’d all turned and glared at her, which is when she’d discovered that it was not a joke and in fact something that was offensive to laugh at. As soon as she’d realized the mistake her lekku had shifted apologetically, but like most lekku-less beings they hadn’t understood the meaning and...

Even without trying, she knew she’d messed up. 

And now, Rex is looking at her with something in his eyes, what might be a frown, and his eyebrows furrowed. He keeps talking and the words could be teasing or angry, he could be poking good-natured fun at her or reprimanding her and she doesn’t know. Anakin isn’t here to help her, and she doesn’t want to disturb him by calling him for something this stupid and un-Jedi-like. But she’s so drained that she can’t push her senses any further, can’t focus her awareness or sort through what she’s learned over the past year.

In the next room, there’s a heavy banging sound that makes even the Captain in front of her jump, and that’s all it takes. 

Ahsoka bursts into silent, painful tears. 

Rex asks what’s wrong, but all she can do is shake her head while her lekku tremble and curl. What isn't wrong, they sign, Everything hurts and I can’t understand you and it’s loud!

But he asks her again, accidentally ignorant of her answers, holding out the datapad. But she doesn’t have the words to explain, can’t pull them out of her muddy brain to write on the screen. All she can do is cry, and try to make herself smaller so that maybe the noise won’t find her. Bury her montrals under her arms as much as she can, give herself some kind of barrier.

He must catch on somewhat because he taps her gently on the knee until she meets his eye, and draws a pair of perpendicular lines on his shoulder with two fingers. That is something she understands with full clarity: the battle-signal for medic. She nods, curling her own hand into a fist and bobbing it up and down for added clarity, watching as he comms Kix. 

When the Medic arrives, he takes one look at her curled up form— hands gripping her montrals and head sinking closer into her knees— takes the datapad from her and pokes her with it until he has her attention.

‘Too Loud? ’ he writes, messy medic-script replaced with clear printed letters.

Ahsoka winces as a high-pitched whine pierces the air. It’s enough of an answer apparently because Kix nods and writes ‘ I’ll be right back ’ before getting up and walking briskly into another room. 

He returns with something large and fluffy, and places it around her head above her eyes. Nothing happens until he moves the device up a little, poking his tongue out in an expression Ahsoka has labelled “I forgot how young you are”, and tightens it in place. 

Miraculously, the sound is muffled. It means that she can’t hear what Kix is saying to her, or what Rex is saying to him, but it stops the pounding and the piercing and suddenly she can breathe again. 

Ahsoka makes grabby-hands towards the datapad, and writes the biggest ‘ THANK YOU’ she can. Kix smiles with his shoulders moving up and down just a little, which means he’s happy/amused , pats her knee and gets up to leave. She thinks he says something to Rex, because the Captain's face changes to his “orders received” face, and then it's just the two of them. 

Rex makes another battle-signal, “move out”, and tips his head to the side. He’s asking her if she wants to leave, and the honest answer is that she...can’t think of that. Her brain is stuck on one thing, now that the pain is subsiding and her tears are dry. 

Instead of answering, she clears her hollow pad and writes her own question down.

‘ Are you mad at me?’

He opens his mouth to answer, but his eyes flicker to the miracle-headband and instead, he gently grabs her datapad.

‘ Do you think I’m mad?’

And she can’t tell even now if he’s curious or upset, and she’s feeling too fragile to guess. She’s also too tired to explain fully.

‘ No Lekku, can’t tell.’

Her Captain frowns, which should mean that he’s sad but...why would he be sad? He writes his answer down, clears it, and writes another down. Then he clears that one and writes a third answer, reading it over to himself before handing it back.

‘ No, I’m not mad. Is this related to the noise, or is it a Togruta thing?’

Ahsoka simply circles  ‘Togruta thing’ and hands the pad back. The adrenaline is fully gone from her system now and fatigue is making her dizzy. 

The human in front of her does the same thing that Kix had done, smiles with his shoulders moving (something he rarely does, but she’s pretty sure it means the same thing) and pulls her gently out of the cabinet. He carefully leads her to her quarters, writes that she should be far enough away to take off the muffler and that he’ll take care of seeing the mechanics off. He adds in the post-script that if she doesn’t nap, Kix has threatened to not only sedate her but also tell her Master she’d been hiding in a cabinet, and even if she’d been capable of staying awake she wouldn’t risk that. 

(She notes that there’s a happy face next to the words, and smiles to herself as she passes out.)

It’s maybe a month after her 15th life-day when they finally get downtime. 

The Jedi don’t celebrate, not really, but apparently, life-day’s (or uncorkings, as they call them) are big for her troops, because they insist on celebrating. 

“It’s something we’d do at Kamino,” Jesse explains, “the long-necks didn’t want us to but...” he shrugs, grinning impishly and projecting playful/wild/stubbornness .

And then there’s a pile of protein bars, all mashed together with a flare sticking out one side. It’s not lit, but someone has coloured a piece of flimsy and cut it out in the shape of a flame. They sing her some kind of song...chant...thing that she can’t make heads or tails of, Hardcase doing some kind of over-exaggerated dance as they present her with the plate. 

Ahsoka knows how much this means, that they’re giving up not only their leisure time but their food for her. So she laughs, lekku stripes brightening, and tries to project her happiness outside of herself. 

(Skyguy’s grin widens, so she thinks she manages it)

The datapad she’s given after blowing out her “candle” takes her even more by surprise. When she opens it, it’s just a list of emotions and dots.

“Rex told us about your ‘Togruta thing,’” Ridge starts, “so we did some research.”

Kix coughs pointedly.

“Kix did some research,” Koho corrects, “and I gotta say Commander, we never woulda guessed that your head tails are for showing emotion. Personally, I figured they were just for—”

“Anyway,” Rex moves, stepping beside her to scroll on the datapad, “we came up with a system. All of these dots are patterns, like code—”

“And we checked them against a whole slew of other codes,” interrupts Hardcase, “so we know they won’t conflict”

“It’ll take some time to learn,” Rex continues, ignoring the interruption, “but when you do, we can start to use it. We all already know it, so you’ll have to catch up, Cadet”

As the Captain finishes speaking, he takes his hand and taps it against his thigh. At Ahsoka’s confused expression, he points to a spot on the datapad and taps again.

Tap-tap, Tap-Tap. 

Teasing.

He is teasing her. And... telling her that he’s doing it.

Ahsoka’s eyes fill with tears, which she hastily blinks away. Her stripes brighten even more, lekku tips curving outwards in joy. 

She flashes her troops, her boys, her family a brilliant smile, scrolls one-handed until she finds what she was looking for, and begins to snap out a pattern.

Snap-Snap-Snap. Snap-Snap.

Gratefulness. 

(It’s the last time she feels alone in their company)

Chapter Text

There are many benefits to being apprenticed to “The Chosen One”.

Sure, there's his skill and experience. Her duelling is improving exponentially, and even just being around him seems to bolster her Force abilities. He's the most compassionate, caring person she has ever known, and Ahsoka was raised with compassion at the center of her worldview! Her Master has taught her how to think outside the box, and shown her how to channel her natural energy into creative solutions. 

But none of that is what Ahsoka really enjoys about being Anakin Skywalker's padawan. 

More than anything else, there are two reasons she's thankful to have been assigned this specific Master.

The first is temperature. Their shared quarters on the Resolute are always kept warm . Warm enough that when Master Obi-Wan visits, he always mentions the heat. Ahsoka had initially been self-conscious about having no less than three blankets in her pack at any given point in time, until the first time she’d bunked off-planet with Anakin and he’d pulled out five of his own. They both seem to be constantly cold when everyone else is comfortable, and there's a comfort in being able to...

Jedi don’t complain or whine, but she’d be lying if she said that they never express their displeasure about what most people consider to be the ‘ideal’ temperature. 

(Not that either of them wouldn’t—haven’t—given up their blankets for someone in need. She’d rather be cold than have someone else suffer, and Anakin's the same.)

The second thing, an advantage she’d never admit to enjoying, is Padme Amidala. 

And yes, Ahsoka has, in fact, noticed how often she and her Master are assigned to protect the senator. From her count, it’s about 60/40 times Skyguy has volunteered vs times Padme has requested. ...Well, maybe 59/40/1, considering there was that one time Ahsoka had—for lack of a better term—assigned herself to protect her friend. 

Clearly, something less than Council-Sanctioned is going on, but if it means more time with one of her favourite humans, Ahsoka isn’t going to look into it. Not looking an equu in the mouth, and all that. She’s pretty sure Padme had requested them for this particular trip because Anakin wouldn’t have managed to finagle two weeks planet-side. 

(She loves her Master dearly, but Ahsoka isn’t learning the finer points of negotiation from him.)

The trio walks into Padme’s apartment slowly, collapsing onto both couches with a shared, weary sigh. Anakin, Ahsoka notes, is careful to sit on the couch opposite to his female companions, but on the side closer to Padme. She also sees how the senator leans against the side of the couch towards the Jedi Knight. Disguising her mischievous smile is hard, but neither human companion pays her any mind. 

It has been a trying day, the third of a 10-day festival during which Senator Amidala is holding a weeklong ball to raise money for the survivors and refugees of war. While nothing particularly exciting has happened yet, all three know that it’s only a matter of time. 

Anakin is fond of saying that trouble finds those who do the most good, so really it’s just a waiting game. For the third day in a row, both Jedi had stood with the Senator, stretching their senses out and searching for the first inkling of danger.

Padme shifts to focus on her, mouth scrunched to one side and eyebrows furrowed. Even drained as she is, Ahsoka can feel the uncertainty/questioning/curious feeling leaking off the other woman. 

“I don’t know about either of you,” she announces, “but I’m ready for some real food!”

As she speaks her eyebrows rise and her mouth un-scrunches, tilting upwards at the corners. Her aura changes to happy/playful/teasing , so Ahsoka smiles back. 

“That depends,” teases Anakin, “on what kind of food you have.”

The young Togruta watches as her Master's eyebrows wiggle up and down, his Force signature projecting teasing/joke/mischief as he makes eye contact with the senator. Padme’s expression changes dramatically again, her own eyebrows shooting into her hairline, eyes wide as she glances at the teenager on her couch, and her mouth slightly open. But Ahsoka can see the laughter on her face too, and she hears the fake outrage in her voice as Padme smacks Anakin’s head lightly. 

She may not catch the joke, but she laughs because she feels included.

It’s a tradition whenever they’re together, even as her Master grumbles and gripes about not being included. 

Without fail, Padme will pull out a table and a deck of sabacc cards, kick Anakin to the curb and flash Ahsoka a genuine grin. 

It’s also tradition that Ahsoka never wins, but that’s not really why they play. 

Maybe she just knows more about Togruta biology, or maybe Skyguy had told her, or maybe she’d just noticed on her own, but Padme is clearly determined to help Ahsoka control her open expressions. 

“It’s not so much about creating a neutral expression,” the older lady had explained during their first game, “but about controlling what people see. If you’re anything like Anakin... and considering he’s teaching you, you’ll probably never really get your sabacc-face down.”

Then Padme had leaned in, face serious except for the crazed smile. Ahsoka could sense the conspiring tone, like Padme was projecting it intentionally.

“Luckily, it doesn’t matter if you can hold a sabacc face or not. Instead, you can weaponize your openness. Learn what your face and lekku do when you’re happy, sad, angry, calm, lying and truthful. Learn to do it even when you’re not , and people will mistake your clearness for genuine feelings. Don’t force yourself to hide: learn to fake convincingly.”

So they played at every available opportunity. Ahsoka looks forward to it, trying to trick the senator into thinking she has a losing hand and then flashing her excellent cards. And every time they play, she knows that she gets better. She can fool the other woman for longer, and express new emotions at will. 

(Plus, it’s fun to gossip with the other girl. Ahsoka loves her family, she really does, but being the only female on all of Torrent... well it’s nice to have some female-time when she can get it.)

“Right lek curled in,” observes Padme, “eyebrows down and slight frown. That seems like disappointment, the classic sign of someone who’s just traded a good card away.”

Looking down at her near-perfect hand, it takes the teenager colossal effort to not smile. “If that’s what you think, I’m not going to correct you.”

Padme takes another card from the deck and, after a moment's deliberation, discards it. 

“Ready?”

Both call out their number, and Ahsoka is very proud to have only lost by two points.

“Excellent!” Padme laughs, racing across the table to grab the younger girl's hand, “I had no idea—your stripes were brightening only a little, and I thought you’d done the math wrong. Well done!”

With a breath, Ahsoka lets her fake emotions go. Both lekku curl outward, and she’s sure her stripes are practically glowing. 

“I’ll beat you one of these days, you better start practicing!”

Challenge/joy/surprise floats away from the human lady’s aura as Padme laughs brightly. 

“I’m sure you will Ahsoka, I’m sure you will!”

Sometimes, she forgets that Padme is a Senator. It's easy to forget because Padme doesn't match her idea of what a Senator is.  Ahsoka’s always defined  “Senator” as “lots of talk, almost no backbone, even less action”

(Maybe she’s been spending too much time with Master Obi-Wan)

But then something like this happens. 

Ahsoka treads silently through the rafters, huntress instincts blending seamlessly with her Force ability to keep her undetectable. Only a few more feet and she’ll be in position to strike safely. She needs to be quiet, careful, or Padme could pay with her life. 

The last thing Ahsoka wants is to lose her ‘big sister’. 

Anakin is off disarming the bomb, his skillset making him the better choice despite how obviously he’d wanted to be the one tracking the Senator. But Ahsoka had managed to convince him to trust her, had pointed to her montrals and reminded him that Togruta were literally born to hunt. He’d wavered, torn until she’d promised that she would bring Padme back safely. 

Only she hadn’t promised, not really. She’d thought back to her lessons with Padme, looked her master dead in the eye and whispered “I’ve got her.”

 She punctuated the statement with her lekku, silently adding the words she couldn’t bring herself to speak. 

“This is more than a promise,” she signed with a flick, “it’s a certainty.”

(They both know that nothing is certain in battle, that a million things can go wrong, and then one more thing could top it off. They both know that as Jedi, they shouldn’t even be talking about a civilian like this, shouldn’t be feeling so strongly.)

(Neither of them care.)

Ahsoka doesn't recognize the voice of the kidnapper but tries to make a note of it anyway. She’s in position now, but hesitates, pulling on the Force and asking for guidance. He’s got some kind of blaster, and he gestures with it as he rambles about “good-for nothings” and “handouts” and “my money, that I worked hard for”. 

Honestly, he sounds like a laserbrain who likes to hear his own voice, and Ahsoka privately thinks that if he cared so much about not helping the people affected by the war he should just...not donate? Regardless, he’s a laserbrain with a blaster , and startling him could end badly for her and Padme. Recklessness is something she's been working very hard with Anakin on, and she won’t let that lesson go to waste over something so important.

As she waits for an opening, Ahsoka looks her favourite Senator over. A couple of bruises, and her elaborate hair-do is no more but otherwise no worse for wear. In fact, from this angle, Ahsoka can see her hands fiddling with her bonds behind her back, and can just make out the sound of a pin scraping against metal. 

Most senators may be all talk and no action, but Senator Amidala isn’t one of them. 

Togrutan eyes scan the human face, checking to see if Padme’s fair complexion is any paler than normal, or if there are any obvious head wounds, and that’s when Ahsoka notices. 

In the year and a half that she’s been Anakin’s padawan, she’s never seen Padme so...neutral. Empty, almost. Not a trace of emotion on her face, or any feelings leaking into her Force-presence. Her brown eyes are stony, making hard eye contact with the nerf-herder pacing back and forth, but there’s no fire in them. Well, no...there’s something there. Looking closer, Ahsoka can see it’s not that Padme is neutral, it's just that she’s...human. 

She looks human, in the confusing, subtle way that they emote. Her face is changing, and the way her eyes flash combined with the set of her mouth speaks of... something, but it’s subtle. Like with the clones and Anakin before they’d started to accommodate her. For the first time in their friendship, Padme’s expression doesn’t register in Ahsoka’s mind.

And it throws Ahsoka for a loop because she’s never once seen the senator as anything less than a passionate, expressive Being. And she’s never—

Anakin’s presence in her mind flares in excitement and draws rapidly closer—the bomb is disabled and he’s coming to her position. Ahsoka sends back a feeling of safe/ready/distraction? and receives affirmative/soon in response. 

The sound of a speeder crashing distracts this week’s lunatic, and the young huntress pounces.

Later, when things have calmed and the Jedi pair is on their way out of the senator’s house, the pieces fall into place. Ahsoka has never, not once, had problems reading Padme’s intentions. Not, as she’d assumed, because Padme was incapable of hiding them, but because the human had instead chosen to show her. Without Ahsoka asking, Padme had been over-displaying her emotions—exaggerating her facial expressions and pulling down her emotional walls so that it is easier for the Togrutan to read her. 

“Of course I do;” is the soft response Padme gives when Ahsoka asks, “does it bother you?”

“No! I just...why?”

“I had a Twi’lek friend growing up who struggled because I was the first human she’d known,” the Senator explains, smiling fondly, “She taught me her language, and I taught her mine. Then I discovered that Ani finds it easier too—when he knows how I’m feeling, so I’ve had some practice. I figured,” a pale arm pulls Ahsoka into a side hug, “that you might be the same.”

Ahsoka leans into the hug, trying to put all of her appreciation into the single squeeze she gives. 

The message comes across loud and clear. 

(“Hey Skyguy?”

“Yeah, Snips?”

“If you and Padme ever ended up in some kind of secret relationship, I'd totally cover for you.”)

Chapter Text

At times, it's hard to remember that Master Obi-Wan is her grandmaster. 

Because for him to be her grandmaster means that he would have had to train her master,  and that... 

It’s just that they’re so different? Master Obi-Wan is calm and refined, a strategist who plans his words as well as his actions. Compared to Skyguy, who’s passionate, wild, and brash. Ahsoka loves them both, she really does, but how did Obi-Wan “Civilized” Kenobi somehow manage to train Anakin “I-Eat-Bugs” Skywalker?!

It’s a mystery that Ahsoka doesn’t think she’ll ever truly uncover, not even now that they’re on a mission together. 

Just the two of them.

By Themselves.

And Jedi don’t get nervous, they ‘approach new scenarios with caution’ and ‘patiently search for the leading of the Force’. They are also ‘eager to learn new things’ and ‘willing to take on any challenge’. Ahsoka, therefore, would say her current mood is ‘eagerly waiting for the Force to show her how to get out of this’ as opposed to ‘freaking out and internally screaming.’ 

It’s just that diplomatic assignments aren’t something that she’s done in the past year-and-a-bit! When the occasional peace-keeping mission had been given to them, it was almost a guarantee that the planet would be in pieces when they arrived. 

Logically Ahsoka knows that the Jedi are peacekeepers first and warriors second, but functionally most of the time she’s ‘keeping the peace’ by cutting droids in half. 

(It seems to work, at least in the short term.)

But there are no droids to slice through, no bombs to worry about or brothers to protect. Not here. Instead, she’s sitting next to Master Obi-Wan in a room that’s too quiet, too bright, and too cold. She’s not unwrapping a ration bar, reading the ingredients to know if it was safe to share with her human companions and mentally calculating its worth in their barter system. She’s staring down at a bowl of soup, wondering if it’s polite to ask if it’s meat-based and trying to remember which of these crinking spoons is for soup versus which one is for dessert. 

The spoon on the right-hand side of the bowl shifts ever-so-slightly towards her and, frivolous use of the force or not, Ahsoka is beyond grateful that Master Obi-Wan is giving her this hint. If their hosts can read lekku (which she doesn’t think they can) they’ll see how hers shiver in relief and gratitude and hopefully mistake it as being directed at their hospitality. 

Somewhat belatedly she remembers that Master Obi-Wan can’t read lekku, so she turns to smile at him. Perhaps it’s for the best that he’s not looking at her, daintily sipping his soup and managing to nod along to whatever is being said. Ahsoka takes a taste of her own soup, concentrating hard on not leaning over the bowl but also not spilling on herself or the table. 

And remembering not to slurp. And to scoop from the side of the bowl that is away from her, not closest to her.

And not leaning over the bowl. 

And sitting still. 

Not spilling.

Sip, not slurp. 

Eating slowly, keeping her lekku still, focusing on the emotions of the people around her. Scoop away from you, keep still, don’t slurp, don’t spill, don’t lean over the bowl, focus on emotions instead of how bright it is and how cold she is and how unprepared she feels.

Is this a society that finds it rude to finish everything on your plate? She thinks it is, but...maybe it’s the other way? There are some places where you’re meant to finish everything so as to not disrespect your hosts, but then also there are places where you're not, and there are other places still where it doesn’t matter, and Master Kenobi had told her before this dinner but she can’t remember because she’s too busy thinking about her brothers helping around Coruscant and her Master still on med-leave and she’s so nervous because this is an important planet and— 

There’s a gentle tug on her wrist, and it’s a miracle that she doesn’t spill anything. A flutter of Force tugs softly at her wrist again, confirming what she already knows— Master Obi-Wan is once again giving her hints. She assumes it means ‘don’t finish this', and so with intense concentration Ahsoka puts her spoon on her napkin delicately. 

It takes her a moment too long to notice the quiet, and another second to notice that everyone is staring at her. Panic flares in her chest, lekku curling in traitorously before she manages to stomp hard on her emotions and return to neutral. Her battle-instincts itch, causing her to curl her toes in her boots as the urge to run/move/escape thrums under her skin. 

There’s a droid at her left, holding a pitcher of liquid. Its optics are pointed at her, and their emotionless glow only makes the urge to fight burn stronger. 

Deep Breath In. Deep Breath Out. 

Think, Commander Tano. 

This is an unusual situation, and it’s not going to plan but nothing’s actively burning. 

And if she’s not bleeding, otherwise injured, or unconscious (sometimes, even when she is) the situation can still be salvaged. 

How can she figure this out?

...By finding someone with more information, and using it to recalculate. 

Desperately, Ahsoka looks from the droid to Master Obi-Wan and back. She focuses hard on projecting questioning/curiosity/authorization in both her Force presence and her facial expression. Make it seem like she’s asking for permission instead of floundering. 

Master Obi-Wan picks up on it.

“No, I don’t think so Padawan Tano”

The droid moves on, pours the mystery liquid into her grandmaster’s cup and makes its way around the table. 

“Is the wine not palatable for the young Togruta We can bring out a carnivorous blend if that would be preferred, '' asks one of the feathered Beings seated across from them. Ahsoka is pretty sure they’re the leader, based on the elaborate headdress and commanding voice, but she’s not sure. Either way, their feathers are ruffled, and their beak barely open when they speak. But she can’t feel any negativity coming off of them and their words don't seem harsh, so it’s hard to tell if she’s karked it all up or not.

“That’s very generous of you,” the human next to her says suavely, “but we will have to decline. Padawan Tano is only 15 standard years, making her biologically 13 by your standards, and thus too young to drink. Even among the Jedi she’s considered too young, else she would— I’m certain— be more than appreciative”

The shift of attention back to her makes her flinch inwardly, but Master Obi-Wan’s slight nod reminds her of her present duty.

“I am terribly apologetic to have to decline,” she bows her head, trying to match her grandmaster’s tone and feeling her lekku flick with sincerity, “but I am honoured by the offer.” 

The feathered Being doesn’t change outwardly as far as Ahsoka can tell, but the conversation moves on. It’s incredibly hard to follow—these Beings don’t seem to project any kind of emotion through the Force, and neither does Master Obi-Wan. Perhaps they’re guarded due to the subject matter, or maybe she’s just tired. Luckily she isn’t called on once and never has to state an opinion or argue a point. 

Forever and a day seems to pass before all parties rise from the table (Ahsoka is a little bit late, having missed the cue that the conversation was over), and both Jedi bow to their host before retreating to their room. 

If this were a mission with Anakin, this would be the time that he would have put a hand on her shoulder, sent a wave of relief/pride/exhaustion down their bond and given her a lopsided smile. She would have fired back with her own mix of emotions, and flicked her lekku at him to mention how odd it was to not be fighting. 

But this isn’t a normal mission, and Anakin isn’t here. Master Obi-Wan keeps his space, walking briskly with his hands behind his back. 

(He’s not looking at her, so he doesn’t see her lekku twist in confusion/loneliness/anxiety. She knows that he wouldn’t be able to tell even if he had.)

She spends the walk trying to figure out his expression based on what she knows about Anakin and Rex but coming up empty. She then tries to focus on her own behaviour, what she’d learned and noticed during the two-hour dinner. 

The only insight she finds is that she’s much worse at non-verbal communication than she thought, and the only reward she gets is a headache.

They’re having tea in his quarters, and so far it’s going very well. 

She thinks. 

Ever so often, Master Obi-Wan will make a gesture she recognizes from Anakin, and normally Ahsoka has found that they mean the same thing. The way he grabs her shoulder when he’s happy with her and rolls his eyes when she says something ridiculous. Even the way that he swats at imaginary bugs when he dismisses an idea is familiar. 

All in all, Ahsoka is pretty proud of herself. 

Except now, his hands are holding a tea cup and he couldn’t look anything less like her Master. On top of that, his presence is muted, as it often is while they’re in the Temple, so she’s not getting anything! 

(She doesn’t blame him— her shields are as far up as they can go as well. The downside of living in a community of empaths is that it’s hard to have privacy, and she doesn’t want to broadcast her current emotions.)

Ahsoka takes a sip of her own tea— a blend of plants from Shili, something she can drink without getting sick— and considers the human across from her. 

He had almost been her Master, instead of Anakin. It’s an...interesting thought. On the one hand, she knows that under his tutelage she would have flourished—albeit in a different way. She thinks that, maybe, she would have been a good negotiator and strategist if Master Obi-Wan had trained her. Instead, she’s an accomplished warrior and...what did Skyguy call it? Thinking-on-the-fly...er. 

Once again Ahsoka is struck by how different her grandmaster is from her Master, and she finds herself wondering how it came to be.

“Credit for your thoughts”

She chokes on her tea, stripes darkening at being caught. 

“Just...reflecting is all.”

“Oh” Master Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow (she thinks he’s teasing) “I didn’t think Anakin manage to teach you that”

Despite herself, Ahsoka giggles. “To be fair, he is trying to make me into a ‘better version of him’. His words, not mine.”

Master Obi-Wan rumbles, and she thinks he’s laughing but can’t tell because of the beard. “I assume that statement is normally followed by the phrase ‘however impossible’”

“Well, it is Ana—Master Skywalker.”

“Please, Ahsoka,” he leans in, projecting amusement/awareness/comfort , “There’s no need to stand on ceremony when it’s just the two of us. I may be your Grandmaster and a member of the Council, but I’m not exactly Master Windu.”

She smiles and takes another sip. They sit in comfortable silence, although Ahsoka finds her thoughts turn to anxieties much easier than she wants them to. 

“You did quite well today, Little One.”

Surprise and pride flick her lekku at his words, and her eyebrows shoot into her headdress. 

“I was incredibly impressed with how you read the emotions of the Aukinger, they are not an easy species to get a handle on.”

The flicking of pride is immediately replaced by the twisting of confusion. She feels the emotion slip through her shields. 

“You displayed your own emotions very clearly as well,” he continues, “although I gather that it’s not as much of a struggle for you?”

“.....Anakin told you, didn’t he?”

Master Obi-Wan smiles at her gently, with his teeth showing in a way that only humans would assume is comforting, “Not in relation to this particular mission. He was...admittedly panicked when you were first assigned, and came to me for advice. You remember I was expecting to teach you?”

Ahsoka nods slowly.

“Well, I had prepared extensively. Brushed up on my knowledge of Togruta Biology, stocked the proper rations—I even began to...re-acclimate myself to Anakin’s preferred temperature so that you would be comfortable in our shared dorms.”

His emotions are carefully guarded, locked between his shields so tightly that she doesn’t think a bomb would release them. His face is...neutral she thinks. His eyebrows at least are ‘normal’, and there’s no crease on his forehead. She still can’t see his mouth past all the hair, but there’s no reason to think he’s emoting that way either. And his tone is even, far as she can tell. 

Despite his earlier praise, Ahsoka struggles to come up with an appropriate reply for several seconds. Then she thinks about how long and hard he must have worked only to have the work all be for nothing and imagines how she would feel if the roles were reversed.

How would she feel if she was going to train a young human, had done all the research and preparation to provide for them and then found out that they were passed to someone else?

... Defeated , frustrated , and angry most likely. 

“I think,” begins Ahsoka slowly, “that you would have made an excellent Master, Master Obi-Wan. I would have been happy as your Padawan.”

It seems to be the right thing to say because his shoulders relax and he sips his tea with a hum.

“That’s very kind of you, and I thank you, however, Anakin was certainly the better choice. Has he told you that he can read Lekku?”

Ahsoka nods.

“I’m... admittedly not as fluent — not for a lack of learning,” Master Obi-Wan laughs, “it seems that whatever part of my brain absorbs information is continually losing that bit. I know that your stripes darken with negative emotions, and brighten with the more positive ones, but that’s the extent of my knowledge.

“Regardless, Anakin commed me a few days into your apprenticeship asking for advice, because he had no idea about most things you would need. He then commed me frequently for the next few months, with every small problem he was facing. Daily, I believe.”

The grimace on his face is so over-exaggerated that Ahsoka knows exactly what it means, and she laughs. 

“One of the things he asked about, almost three months in, was how I handled his lack of understanding emotions.”

This is new information to her. “What do you mean?”

Master Obi-Wan strokes his beard one-handed, which she thinks means contemplation.  

“It’s...not entirely my story to tell, but when Anakin came to the Temple he was...not used to experiencing the full range of emotions from those he wasn’t familiar with. And he often mistook small, neutral acts as emotional reactions.

“For example, there was a day where I noticed he hadn’t folded his laundry, so I did it for him. It was something he found quite overwhelming, at the time, and I wished to lighten his burden. He came into the room, saw me quietly folding tunics, and burst into tears.”

Ahsoka squints, her lekku twisting and curling from bewilderment. “What?”

“Apparently, he thought I was mad at him.”

“.......What?!”

Master Obi-Wan shrugs, “I didn’t understand either, but apparently these kinds of ‘helpful activities’ were often-times used as passive-aggressive signals that something was wrong and further punishment was coming. There were several such incidents before we learned to communicate properly.”

Nodding, Ahsoka put the pieces together. “So you did the same thing we’re doing? Sending emotions through our bond?”

Red/orange eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “No! Well occasionally, in times of great distress, but not regularly. No, we danced around the issue for a long while before I asked him to be direct with me. It took time, but we learned to simply acknowledge when we didn’t understand each other. If one person did it, the other was to explain their emotions and intentions as clearly as they could. When we were out in public, we had a code to use as a way to ask for an explanation or to release our outer shields. You’re doing it through your training bond?”

Her stripes darken considerably, and Ahsoka starts trying to find patterns in her almost-empty teacup. 

“Hmm. How unsurprising that he asks for my advice and doesn’t take it.”

“Well...” Ahsoka turns the teacup around in her hands, “the Clones do something like what you two did. We have a code, tapped or snapped or sometimes we even blink it during a conversation. And each pattern is an emotion. Anakin uses it too, sometimes. Normally when we’re all together in a group.”

Master Obi-Wan nods and finishes his own tea. He looks at her, hard, and waits. 

“It’s...nice,” she admits when the silence is overwhelming, “to be able to understand and be understood. Earlier... I was guessing so much at the negotiations, and I...I just miss them. Non-verbals are so hard , and so many other species don’t have the same markers. I know I have to learn them, and I'm working hard at it, but having a system makes me feel valued and accepted. When I’m not with them...”

Ahsoka trails off, willing herself to not cry. To not think of Anakin, probably still unconscious in the Halls of Healing. Or her brothers, off doing Force-knows-what and getting into all kinds of danger. Some of the only humans in the galaxy who cared enough about her to include her instead of trying to make her change to them. 

Her grandmaster’s voice is soft, as is his hand clasping hers. With the contact, she can feel the acceptance/respect/warmth he feels, and it makes her smile.

“If you’d like, I’d be honoured to learn the system you’ve created. And if we have time to spare, perhaps I can tell you the story of Anakin’s first diplomatic disaster.”

His grey-blue eyes are gentle, and he squeezes her hand comfortingly. 

And, well, Ahsoka is not going to turn down a story about her Master’s misadventures!

(She realizes that, despite being seemingly opposites, her Master and Grandmaster really aren’t that different at their core.)

(Neither, she supposes, is she.)

Overall, it’s not unusual that she can’t sleep. 

Horrors of war notwithstanding, it can be hard to sleep when you’re a teenage empath on a ship full of people. When her own nightmares didn’t wake her up, the terror leaking off of a trooper —and occasionally her Master— could. Or it would be the ship itself: some nights the vibrations of the Resolute would travel to her montrals, and suddenly her whole world was overwhelmed with sensation. Or someone would be talking just within her range of hearing, thinking that they were being quiet. Then there was the occasional vision she received, the alerts that happened, and none of that even counts how hard it could be to reset after being planetside and having to be ready for anything.

So Ahsoka is used to functioning on little-to-no sleep.

What’s unusual is that she can’t sleep at the Temple. 

If she wanted, she knows that she could easily blame it on the cold. Master Obi-Wan had offered to turn the heating up, but she’d declined. It wasn’t fair to him that he’d have to be uncomfortable in his own room just so that her life would be marginally easier. He’d accepted her refusal graciously and directed her to a closet where, apparently, he kept several extra blankets. 

“In case of emergencies,” he’d shrugged, projecting nonchalance/indifference/boredom .

(She knows that Anakin keeps Master Obi-Wan’s favourite teas on hand, both here at the Temple and on the Resolute. She imagines they're prepared for the same kind of "emergency".)

Only Ahsoka knows it’s not the cold that has her curled up in the main area of the apartment, cocooned in blankets that carried Skyguy’s presence on them like leftover perfume. It isn’t nightmares or someone else’s stray emotions that have her digging in her pack for her meditation beads, specifically grabbing the ones Anakin had made for her. 

The real reason is not very Jedi-like, but Ahsoka doesn’t feel like a Jedi right now.

She lifts the beads into the air with the Force, inhaling as she lines up all twenty-four in a straight line. They shudder with her breath at the memory of him sitting with her, teaching her this new exercise, guiding her through it...

The beads float into a triangle as she starts over. Then a square, a pentagon, a hexagon, heptagon, octagon. The little spheres hum, vibrating as she manipulates them through the air in a way that’s soothing to her montrals. 

Exhale: Heptagon, hexagon, pentagon, square, triangle, flat. 

Skyguy had made them, had customized them with her biology in mind to be as calming and grounding as possible. She doesn’t know how he’d managed it, considering he couldn’t hear the vibrations himself and she hadn’t heard him making them, but he’d done it.

Inhale: Triangle, square, pentagon, hexagon, heptagon, octagon. 

She can’t see them with her eyes closed, but she knows that they’re painted an even mix of orange, blue, white, green, yellow, and red. Her colours. The same way that his are silver, black, blue, and burgundy. His colours. Makes it easier to use, he’d explained, when they’re uniquely yours.

Exhale: Heptagon, hexagon, pentagon—

The beads crash to the ground as she loses her breath, clenching her firsts where they rest on her knees. The sound of them bouncing makes her cringe, but she can’t muster the will to bring them back to her. Anakin has always said that it was appropriate, important even, to take a break and feel when her emotions got the better of her.  It had been so bizarre to hear after fourteen years of being told that she was to meditate continually until she had control, but well... 

Ahsoka is a diligent student, and her Master hasn’t failed her yet. 

After a moment’s respite, she finds the beads in her awareness, pulling them back towards her. Instead of a line, she forms a circle—spinning the beads around as fast as she can, making the circle bigger and smaller as she takes deep breaths. 

She’d made the exercise up on her own, and Anakin had been ecstatic. 

The circle falters, becoming egg-shaped as her breath hitches again from the memory. She’d been so nervous and excited at the same time, desperate to show her Master how she’d adapted yet sick at the thought that he’d berate her for it. Instead, he’d exploded with pride/excitement/impressed and told her that he was happy she’d discovered something that helped her. 

“If it works,” he’d shrugged, smiling his lopsided acceptance smile, “it works! If you find peace doing it that way, then I’m not going to stop you. ...unless you do it in front of the council, then I’ll absolutely disavow.” 

And he’d pushed teasing/happy/mischief at her, clapped her on the shoulder and offered to meditate with her. 

It’s what they should be doing now. It’s what they always did when one of them couldn’t sleep: meditate or spar or even just...talk. 

But Anakin is...is...

“Ahsoka?” comes the soft voice from behind her, “Is everything alright?”

She doesn’t answer, because a Jedi doesn’t lie and if she keeps silent she won’t be a bad Jedi. Her silence seems to be answer enough, and his footfalls draw closer. 

(Master Obi-Wan, she notes, is not quiet. Not just by her standards, but she knows humans are capable of moving much quieter. Anakin always walks so silently. They sometimes sneak up on Rex or Admiral Yularen, just because they can.)

The older master squats beside her to pick one of her beads off the ground. Ahsoka hadn’t even noticed she’d dropped them until she sees him squinting in the darkness at it.

“...well, this is surprising.”

(He doesn’t sound surprised, as far as she can tell. Surprise is loud and big, but his voice is soft and breathless.)

“I didn’t think he’d keep his own beads, let alone pass the tradition on.”

“...Master?”

Master Obi-Wan sits down fully, leaning back on his arms in what Ahsoka thinks is a casual pose. “When Anakin first came to the Temple, he had no idea how to meditate. We worked for months before I discovered this trick, and while he certainly enjoyed using them as projectiles, I wasn’t sure if he found any help with them.”

Ahsoka gathers the remaining beads into her bag and doesn’t look at her Grandmaster while she thinks. The beads Anakin uses are worn, dented, and the colours scratched in places, but they’re also his go-to meditation tools when he can’t work on a ship, or fix something physically. When she looks at Master Obi-Wan again, he’s still holding the bead, eyebrows down. She can’t see his mouth but thinks it’s possible he’s upset at her Master, which won’t do.

“They’re his favourite actually,” she says, trying to keep her voice soft, casual instead of defensive , “I’ve never seen him meditate without them. These ones are mine that he made for me; his are all dented and old.”

Master Obi-Wan tenses, his eyebrows going up, and then all at once relaxes. He turns to face her properly, and Ahsoka thinks he’s smiling underneath all that hair. 

“Are you worried about him?”

Ahsoka thinks of her Master, still in the Halls of Healing despite the Healers saying he’d be released two days ago. She’d run in to see him almost as soon as they were planetside again, and been told he wasn’t able to accept visitors. She thinks of how much he hates being alone, especially when he’s not feeling well. Thinks of how battered he’d looked when they’d come off the battlefield, how he’d forced himself to stay conscious until they were on Coruscant. 

Thinks of how he’d shielded her from the worst of the explosion, thereby taking most of the damage. 

“A Jedi does not worry,” she recites obediently, “they trust in the Force, no matter the path.”

The human beside her releases a soft breath and puts a hand on her shoulder. The contact provides a conduit, and she’s suddenly filled with peace/reassurance/security .

“That’s not what I asked,” he pushes gently, “Padawan Tano may not be worried, but I’d like to know how Ahsoka is doing.”

It’s all she can do not to cry, but the way her lekku tremble and curl as she hunches in on herself, and the way her stripes feel heavy and warm make up for it. Master Obi-Wan pulls her in close, the hand on her shoulder giving way to an arm, and before she can think about the unexpectedness of what he’s doing she’s curled into his side, and he’s rubbing her arm comfortingly. 

“It’s alright,” he whispers to the darkness, “I’m worried as well.”

They sit like that for what feels like a long time until Ahsoka regains enough of herself to loosen her tense posture and calm her lekku. She places one of her own hands overtop his, and projects gratefulness/embarrassment/drained at him.

“Would you like some space to meditate further?”

“Not really. I think I’m gonna try and sleep.”

She definitely won't sleep. Lie awake staring at her ceiling is more likely, or maybe work on some of her homework, but sleep is out of the question.

(Ironically, she’s too tired.)

“You are free to do so, Little One,” Master Obi-Wan says gently, leaning back from her slightly, “however if you’d like, I’m willing to suggest an alternate solution.”

From their shared contact, the slightest quiver of mischief/trouble/adventure floats into her awareness. It piques her curiosity, and since she’s not going to be sleeping anyway...“What did you have in mind?”

Sitting together in the Halls, watching Anakin’s chest rise and fall with her equally attentive Grandmaster is a memory Ahsoka will treasure forever. The adventure of sneaking through the Temple, past the sentries and Healers into the room that they don’t have access to, is an even more precious one.

Chapter Text

It’s a good thing no one has the capacity to hear the shrill words she’s chirping at her paper. The reaction would be half teasing, half outrage, and she would never hear the end of it. 

But Togruti curses are so far above the human and near-human hearing range that as long as Anakin isn’t here to read her furiously vibrating lekku, she’s in the clear. 

Her companion sits on the bed just above her, diligently working on her own homework. Based on her Force-signature, she seems serene enough and Ahsoka would guess that Barriss really is that calm, considering what she’s known of the girl. 

The younger teenager trills one more long, angry sound as she throws her head back onto the mattress above her, this time using sounds that the Mirialan will be able to hear and projecting her frustration/discouragement/obstruction into the air around them. 

“You should take a break and meditate if you are feeling that stuck.”

Ahsoka scowls at the ceiling and waves her datapad around in the air. 

“I’m not stuck, ” she clarifies, “I’m actually finished, but it’s not perfect yet!”

“A Jedi does not strive for perfection, but engages in a continual pursuit of progress”

Her responding eye roll is maybe a tad exaggerated, as is the way that she rolls her head to glare playfully at her friend, lekku flicking in a mixture of annoyance and teasing. Barriss, true to form, doesn’t react with much more than a small smile and an eyebrow raise. 

It’s how most of their conversations go when they’re lucky enough to have a casual conversation. Ahsoka will be dramatic and over-the-top, doing her best to draw the other girl out of her shell. Barriss, meanwhile, will counter with ideal-Jedi-attitudes and Senior-Padawan-Wisdom. 

Barriss drops her eyebrow but not her smile and folds her hands gently over her datapad. “Well, let’s hear it. Perhaps reading it aloud will help you discover what you need to change.”

Ahsoka pulses gratitude even as her gut clenches with anxiety . It’s not that she worries about judgement, not with Barriss. That’s why she’s here after all—to get her friend's help.

In truth, she’d finished this assignment a week ago. But just before she’d submitted it, Master Luminara had been assigned to a mission too dangerous for Barriss to go on, and the other padawan had been assigned to accompany the 501st on their more straightforward assignment. So Ahsoka had waited, even stalled for a couple of days to make it seem natural. 

It’s not often that she and Barriss are in the same class (Ahsoka is a Senior-Junior Padawan, on account of the fact that she leads troops and is responsible for the lives of hundreds. In practice, however, she’s still a Junior Padawan and doesn’t have the prerequisites for many of the more advanced classes) and even less often that they have time together. 

Taking a deep breath, Ahsoka straightens her posture and holds her datapad out in front of her. 

“The Inky Depths, unknown, unstudied,

Pulsing with wisdom, eager to teach.

The Zephyr accepts it, steady and patient,

aligns itself readily and swirls to the beat.

The Whirlpool shifts, it’s bright colours darkened

with Pride, drowning all those who come too close.

From it flows the Current, listening and learning

till suddenly ripped away from the tones.

The Tide reaches back to the Depths to find wisdom

then surges valiantly outwards to teach and protect.

The Waves are my teacher, power and strength,

roaring constantly upwards, preparing for peace.

And I, the last student, the Wind whipping through,

  the first one so different yet blessed nonetheless,

I pick up their droplets and carry them with me

to water the desert where new flowers will bloom.”

Ahsoka is out of breath when she finishes, setting her datapad in her lap with a heavy exhale. Barriss looks...well, she looks like Barriss. Nothing seems to be happening on her face, but Ahsoka knows that her friend is simply thinking and reflecting.

“And what did you say wasn’t right with it?” the Mirialan says, putting her own work fully aside.

“Well, it just feels...too emotional? Sappy? I don’t know,” Ahsoka shrugs, “but it’s not right. It’s harder to say what I mean in Basic, sometimes.”

“And what does your Master think?”

“Ana—Master Skywalker thinks it's a good representation of our lineage: The Force, Master Yoda, Count Dooku, Master Jinn, Master Kenobi, himself, and then me. Master Yoda and I are the only non-humans, and he thinks the parallels are clear but subtle enough that it’s not overbearing—he even helped me come up with the metaphors and everything!”

(And that had been a shock. She’d commed Master Obi-Wan first, thinking that with all his knowledge, his vast vocabulary, and his love of the more dignified things in life, he would be perfect. The Jedi Master had scowled, looking so much like his former Padawan that she’d actually laughed, and told her that Anakin would be much more helpful. 

Ahsoka would have thought he was joking, except for the pattern he’d tapped on his arm that showed he was being completely serious.

Anakin had literally jumped with excitement, his eagerness almost palpable through their bond, and she’d learned that her master, for all his hatred of most reading and writing, loved poetry. 

“It’s all structure and codes, Snips,” he’d exclaimed, “you say what you mean in a way that no one can call you on it, with predictable patterns that are simultaneously rigid and flexible. It’s basically robotics with words when you think about it that way.”

She’ll never understand his brain.)

In the present, Barriss hums, and Ahsoka doesn’t think it’s just her non-verbal struggles that make the tone register as neutral. “Well, I think that it’s well done. It’s certainly no less sappy than mine, so we’ll have marks docked together if it comes to it.”

Ahsoka smiles, lekku and shoulders relaxing in relief. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted the approval of a friend. “Can I hear yours?”

Barriss’s face twitches, the tips of her lips pulling very slightly upwards as she releases a soft exhale. “Of course, although it’s much longer than yours.” 

Barriss’s voice is strong and clear as she describes her own lineage in terms of ever-changing polygons and repeated geometry. When she finishes, the elder padawan asks Ahsoka for her constructive criticism. The younger girl shrugs reaffirms that is definitely equally sappy and tries to noncommittally suggest they spar together.

Her lekku are basically fluorescent, and she’s so happy to spend time with her friend that she doesn’t even groan audibly when Barriss recommends that they meditate together instead.

It’s times like these where Ahsoka is really upset at the galaxy. 

Well, not just times like this. Actually, in the grand scheme of things, these kinds of scenarios are fairly low on her list of “reason’s the entire universe is bantha fodder." This definitely isn’t as awful as seeing hungry refugees or dying children, and when she stops to think about it, complaints like this seem kind of silly. 

But Padme had once told her that problems exist in context, and a silly problem could still justifiably be a big, awful one. 

So Ahsoka mentally strikes another tally in the ‘everything sucks’ column, hardens her will, and knocks on the grey door labelled “Unduli and Offee”. 

It’s almost dawn, her chrono had chimed 0500 on the walk over, and she knows that Barriss and Master Luminara are relatively fresh off a mission.  She also knows that Barriss isn’t specifically a morning person. 

And really, it’s just a silly question that Ahsoka could probably figure out on her own, and she shouldn’t even be here because Barriss will be upset with her and— 

The door opens with a fwip , and Master Luminara’s emotionless face appears above her. 

“Good Morning, Master Luminara,” Ahsoka bows carefully, trying not to spill the two cups of caf she’s holding, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but is Barriss available?” 

Master Luminara’s face doesn’t move even an iota, and Ahsoka really hopes that she can’t read the nervousness that her lekku are traitorously displaying. When the Mirialan Master doesn’t move (and really it’s only been about two seconds, but it feels too long) Ahsoka holds out the cup of caf in her left hand. 

“I brought a peace offering?”

The older Master does smile at this, taking the cup and moving aside. Ahsoka could melt with relief if she wasn’t still so anxious. 

“Barriss is in her room,” Master Luminara informs her around sips of caf, “we have just recently finished meditating.”

“Thank you Master!” Ahsoka bows again, and quickly turns to the hall where her friend’s room is. 

She remembers at the last second that Barriss is not Anakin or Rex, and she can’t just waltz into her room. It’s torture to knock softly, to wait while she hears the other girl moving on the other side, to be so close and yet so far. 

But, well...that’s what she’s here for, isn't it?

“I brought caf!” tumbles out of her mouth in a rush as soon as Barriss’s blue eyes are visible, “Milk, no sugar but a bit of cinnamon—which they actually have in the commissary today, in case you want some later.”

Barriss takes the cup, the corners of her lips tugging upwards even as her eyebrows move down. “Good morning to you too.”

Ahsoka’s stripes darken, but she tries to smile anyway. It feels like more of a grimace, and a splash of embarrassment emerges from behind her shields. 

Luckily, her friend lets her in and sits on the floor. Ahsoka sits across from her, trying to match her perfect posture. 

“Is something wrong, Ahsoka?”

Her lekku flick forward, asking for Barriss to wait, I’m nervous and need to gather my thoughts . Ahsoka holds up her hand, one finger extended (the way Anakin has told her is the non-lekku way of communicating that particular need) and tries to rub the lingering emotions out of the stripped appendages with her other hand. 

True to form, Barriss waits, still sitting flawlessly straight and looking for all the world like she’s achieved perfect peace. It helps, kind of, because it accents the exact thing that Ahsoka is here to talk about, but it also makes her squirm with inferiority. 

“I have a question? Well, more of a comment and a question? Not a comment...an observation and a question.” Her words come out rushed, tumbling over each other. She could kick herself, that is not how she’d practiced it.

“And you’ve talked to Master Skywalker about it?”

Ahsoka cringes, “Not...exactly. It’s not something he could help me with, and Master Kenobi is off-world still, and...”

“Do you need me to get my Master?”

“No! No, I...uh, came to you specifically. The observation is, um, well it’s about you.”

The silence is suffocating, and Ahsoka doesn’t look at Barriss’s impartial face. Normally, Ahsoka doesn’t mind not being able to read her friend—something about the fact that they’re equals, and that Barriss is a fellow temple-raised Padawan makes it less...troublesome. Ahsoka had, early on in their friendship, decided she was just going to be in the dark about Barriss’s feelings unless or until the older girl told her, and for whatever reason, she’s just always been okay with that. 

(She thinks that the reason is that she trusts Barriss to tell her if something is bothering her. There’s no guesswork between them on the battlefield or in their casual talks.)

Right now though, Ahsoka would give anything to be able to actually see what’s going on inside her friend's head.

“Well...” says the Mirialan padawan slowly, “if I can help, I’m glad to. What would you like to tell me?”

Inhale, Hold, Exhale.

“So,” begins Ahsoka, “I’m gonna start with the observation.”

Barriss nods.

“I, uh,” another deep breath, “I really admire you Barriss. You’re one of my closest friends, and I think that you push me to be a better Jedi. You seem to have a good handle on your abilities, and I look up to the way you keep yourself in Balance.

“But I just wonder...how?” Ahsoka resists the urge to curl her knees into her chest, but doesn’t quite manage to stop her face from scrunching up or her lekku from trembling, “Jedi are meant to be in control of their emotions, to have complete mastery of them. And I know that it’s a lifetime pursuit! I’m not expecting to have it completely figured out yet but...

“Most times, my emotions just...come up. Something will happen and I’ll feel it all at once and super strong. And I don’t... always... act directly on them, but I can’t control how and when they come up or how strongly I should feel them or even how I show them! As soon as I feel, I react. And I know that it’s not a proper Jedi thing to do, but you’re really good at only feeling what you want to feel and not reacting so just... How? ”

More suffocating silence follows her question, and Ahsoka decides she’s going to find a pattern on the floor in front of her. 

“Ahsoka, look at me please.”

Blue eyes meet, one set significantly more watery than the other. 

“I am very grateful for your praise,” Barriss starts carefully, “but I’m afraid it’s unfounded.”

“Huh?” responds Ahsoka intelligently. 

“I don’t control how I feel, nor do I have mastery over the intensity of what I feel. Unfortunately, I’m just as much a ‘bad Jedi’ as you are if that’s the measure we’re being judged against.”

The younger girl feels her hope crumble.

“But—” as though sensing her despair (she probably did, Ahsoka realizes, tightening her shields) Barriss interrupts, “so is Master Luminara, and Master Skywalker, and Master Kenobi, and every other Padawan, Knight and Master in the whole Jedi Order.

“Finding balance isn’t about controlling your emotions—not the way you seem to be thinking. It’s knowing when to give in to your emotions, and when to release them. As Jedi, we must learn to master the art of knowing when the intensity of our feelings is justified, and when it is not.”

“But you—”

“I am less open than you because of my personality, nothing more. It is not better or worse to express one’s feelings more or less clearly—provided that it is appropriate for the situation. You’re not failing at being a Jedi simply because you laugh more often than me.”

Ahsoka lets the words sink in, turning them over in her head and inspecting them. It feels...right when put in that context, and it cools the ember of shame that’s been flaring up recently. 

(Sometimes, Ahsoka forgets how much older Barriss is than her. But at times like these, it’s easy to remember that the other girl is only a year younger than her own Master. Ahsoka feels painfully small, incredibly young for only-just-fifteen)

“Well said Padawan,” Master Luminara praises, entering the room, “and absolutely correct. Additionally, Ahsoka, guarded emotions have never been a strength of your particular lineage. Even Master Yoda is very open about his intentions and opinions when the situation allows for it.”

Ahsoka lets out a relieved laugh, “That’s true, isn't it? It’s not exactly hard to tell when something mischievous is happening with him!”

Her chorono chimes again, 0600, and she shoots to her feet. 

“Is that the time?! I have to go, I have to meet Sky—Master Skywalker at the confectionary. Thank you again, Master Luminara, Barriss,” she punctuates her statement with a hasty bow.

She’s out the door before they can respond, but she leaves behind her appreciation/sincerity/respect in the Force.

She catches her friend just before they leave, departing for Cato Neimoidia in less than an hour.

“Barriss?”

The other girl spins towards her, as inexpressive as always. “Yes, Ahsoka?”

“Are...you okay?” Ahsoka squints at the other girl.

“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”

“...It’s probably just me—you know how I am with human and near-human non-verbals—but you’ve seemed...off, the past couple of days. I just wanted to see if everything was alright.”

Barriss blinks at her, expression typically neutral until a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

“…Thank You Ahsoka, but things are fine. Better than fine, to be perfectly honest.”

Ahsoka smiles, but her lekku still curl with worry. She’s known Barriss for a long time now, and almost-seventeen is not so young that she’s incapable of noticing a change in patterns.

 “Good,” she says, keeping her voice even,  “You have my comm right? If anything changes...”

“You’ll be the first one I contact, provided I can’t solve the problem on my own or ask my Master for help. ”

As she watches her friend leave, Ahsoka can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. 

...Well...

Barriss hasn’t lied to her yet, and Ahsoka trusts her to keep that streak going. 

(Isn’t that what friends do?)

Chapter Text

Anakin knows his flaws. 

He does! He can be impulsive, occasionally irrational, sometimes paranoid, and he’s always hyper-emotional. He manages to somehow trust people too much and too little, his reactions are intense and often inappropriate, and he gives the people he cares about all of him—whether they want that much or not.

He knows his flaws, but he also knows better than to broadcast them. Much better, he’s learned, to hide them behind arrogance and seeming ignorance. That way when people correct him he’s not surprised, and when he actually puts in the effort to change it’s something to be celebrated. 

Anakin's tried suppressing his flaws, tried hiding them and pretending to be perfect. It never seems to take, and right now he can't spare the extra energy—between getting his men through Battle with as few casualties as possible, teaching Ahsoka, discreetly keeping in touch with Padme, watching out for Obi-Wan, and proving he's not the failure the Council secretly thinks he is...his plate's pretty full.

Additionally, the people most important to him don’t actually mind his flaws. He knows this as a fact.

...Because he’s asked.

(Another flaw: he cares too much about people, and cares what they think of him even more.)

Padme had told him “Your flaws are part of why I love you, Ani, and while I’ll support you choosing to change anything you’re not happy with, I’d never love you less if you decide not to.” 

Obi-Wan had looked at him all confused like he’d grown a second head. And yeah, Anakin stopping them directly after a random mission briefing to ask ‘would you change anything about me, if you could?” was probably a little unexpected, but honestly, it isn’t like his master hadn’t heard stranger questions!

After the confusion, Obi-Wan shook his head, smiled his exasperated but not-unhappy smile, and said “No, I can’t say that I would.” Then he’d walked briskly away like he didn’t want the conversation to continue. 

(Which was fine, because Anakin hadn't been expecting that answer and was honestly kind of surprised, so he didn’t want to keep talking either.)

Ahsoka had very firmly insisted that she was glad to be his student, and he knew she wasn’t lying because her lekku had flicked as if to say ‘ obviously, stupa’ and he’d felt her rather forcefully push sincerity/clarity/stubbornness at him through the bond. 

...And yeah, maybe he was still healing and very much on painkillers at the time, but she’d still said it!

So he’s decided that he’s going to keep certain flaws, thank you very much, because there are bigger things in the galaxy to worry about than fixing his unstable and imperfect personality.

Like this, right now. 

A couple of his beads float in front of his face as he paces, swirling in deliberately lazy infinity signs. It’s the only thing keeping Anakin grounded, but he has too much energy to sit and meditate properly. 

(He adds it to his list of flaws) 

Something bad is going to happen, he’s certain of it. Something absolutely devastating is going to happen to someone he cares about, and he doesn’t know what it is.  He also knows that he’s likely being paranoid, that everything is probably fine, but that doesn’t change how scared he is.

Snips is in bed, asleep like she should be. A quick peek through their bond confirms it, and her psyche is clear of any fear or depression. Obi-Wan and Padme are both on Coruscant, and the Resolute is still a few hours away from reaching the city-planet. 

But Obi-Wan’s presence is still there, in his mind. He can’t feel anything from it, not at this distance, but he’d know if it was gone. 

Padme is...uncheckable, at the moment. But she can take care of herself, mostly, and she’s so recognizable and important that it would be inter-planetary news if something happened. 

(The trust thing...he’s working on that. He’s trying so, so hard to trust that she’ll be okay without him. Sometimes he even manages it.)

There are no visions, no nightmares, there’s no darkness pulling at him like what happened with his—like what happened last time. He hasn’t taken any mysterious, Mortis-style detours, no gaps in time or memory. 

There's nothing but a feeling of dread/doom/wrong that won’t leave him alone, he doesn't need to meditate to know that it has nothing to do with the bombing of the Temple. 

Sure, it’s disconcerting to think that someone managed to bomb the Jedi Temple, but they are at war. Honestly, Anakin’s surprised it hasn’t happened sooner! He doesn’t expect the mission to be easy—anyone who manages to infiltrate and bomb the Jedi Kriffing Temple is not someone they’re just going to run into. But they’re Anakin and Ahsoka: they work together like a well-oiled machine, and there’s very little they can’t do in tandem. 

Except for this feeling , itching in the back of his mind relentlessly, like a shadow that he can’t make out fully. Something is wrong and...

He hasn’t felt so out-of-sorts since the Rako Hardeen incident. When Obi-Wan had...

When he and Ahsoka were kneeling there, over the body, and Anakin had frantically searched for anything to show that his master hadn’t...hadn’t... There was just no way, it all felt so Wrong and he’d been sure that it wasn’t just his inability to let go. He’d known something was not right, he just needed to find the proof.

As he’d searched, Ahsoka had inhaled sharply, posture stiffening and lekku flickering. She’d suddenly been filled with confusion/disbelief/HOPE and he’d been so angry, so so so upset with her for feeling anything remotely positive when the world was unravelling at the seams. 

And he’d gone to berate her, but his padawan had snapped like a cut cable, grabbed his head in her hands and almost headbutted their foreheads together. 

She’d pulled him into the Force, connecting them as though they were meditating, and Anakin had...heard? Felt? Whatever word Togruta use to describe the sensation of sound reaching their montrals, he’d...done that. And there’d been a steady pattern.

Taptaptap. Taptaptap.

Their code. The one that the 501st made up, to make her more comfortable. He was ‘hearing’ it through her.

 The pattern for All Is Well . 

At first, Anakin had thought his apprentice had been consoling him, but then she pulled away and her lekku, still trembling in pain, had curled in confusion/doubt/desire. 

That was the proof he needed.  The justifying evidence that he likely hadn’t lost his master, that he was right to suspect something was off.

And the feeling had lingered, had itched just like this current feeling and not left him alone. Ahsoka told him she’d heard the pattern again, at the funeral, even as flames engulfed The Body. His instincts pulled at his broken Bond with Obi-Wan, had found it missing but not torn: numb. 

It wasn’t right , it wasn’t like when his Mom had...it wasn’t like any loss he’d experienced, and the feeling had clawed at him until he couldn’t ignore it. He’d followed that feeling, had let it drown him in hope until they’d gone to arrest Hardeen and the criminal—Obi-Wan in disguise— had gone Tap-tap, Tap-Tap with his foot. I’m teasing you . 

The ‘something’s-not-right’ feeling had been right back then. His instincts, once he'd been pulled from his grief, had been correct. 

There’s no grief holding him back now. Only instinct remains. 

Anakin, for all his flaws, knows better than to ignore a compass already proven to be correctly calibrated. When whatever Bad Thing happens, he’s going to be ready.

(He refuses to lose anyone else)

“Why is she asking for Ahsoka?”

The Feeling swells, a cyclone of shadow all around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that no one else is put on edge. The Force in the room is quiet, calm. Anakin could have asked about the weather, for all the emotion around them. 

“Not exactly sure, but Commander Tano is the only person the Prisoner will talk to.”

Anyone else may have missed the way Ahsoka’s stripes darken or the twitch of her back lek. His student is doing so well, learning so much in terms of keeping herself balanced, but he still knows her. And he doesn’t miss the way her lekku scream: ‘I don’t want to do this’ even as Ahsoka replies with the opposite.

“I’ll report back with whatever I find out,” she growls, moving confidently out of the room. 

The Bad Feeling crashes into his brain, almost blotting out his vision. When he catches his breath, Tarkin’s hologram is gone, and so is Ahsoka. 

Anakin doesn’t even glance back at the Jedi masters as he tears out of the room. 

“Ahsoka!” he yells, and notices how she hunches slightly at the volume, “Wait!”

It takes only a few long strides to catch up to her, and when he does he has no idea what to say or do. His flesh hand finds her shoulder, and he squeezes it firmly both to ground him and to keep her from leaving. 

“...master?” Ahsoka’s stripes are still dark, and both her frontal lekku twist freely now that they’re alone in the hallway. 

“Hang on, I just need to figure out what I want to say.”

His padawan nods, the tips of her lekku flick outwards and inwards a couple of times. ‘ Take your time.’

“Something’s not right, Snips,” he whispers eventually, making sure to send blamelessness/trust/plotting to her, “but I think I have an idea about how to fix it.”

He’d meant what he’d told Tarkin: in many ways, Ahsoka is still very young. He sees it sometimes when she takes off her ‘Commander’ persona and becomes his Padawan in earnest. Sometimes, seemingly in between blinks, there’s a teenager at his shoulder asking for guidance. 

(He doesn’t mean it as an insult; he’s also very young. Skillful enough to make up for it, but twenty-two is still young in the grand scheme of things)

And Ahsoka is not sheltered or inexperienced in the tragedy of life. She’s experienced more horrors in the last three years than many people do in their lifetimes. Even so, she’s young and remarkably unjaded . Anakin suspects that she’s kept her trust and optimism alive through sheer force of will, and he’s proud of her for it. 

That said, he knows this is a heavy blow for her. 

Perhaps made worse by the fact that it was, in the end, her idea that led to Barriss’s arrest, trial, and imprisonment. 

He’d wanted to just leave—to pull in a favour with Padme and have his wife find them an emergency. The prisoner would be there when they got back, and he’d have time to either figure out exactly what was wrong or make a better plan. 

Ahsoka had, in hindsight very wisely, pointed out that a ‘strategic retreat’ wouldn’t be proper, and suggested an alternate solution: deception. 

Apparently, when Padme had been nearly assassinated but needed to speak at some event and refused to reschedule (the time with Ahsoka’s visions, he thinks. It’s hard to keep track sometimes) they’d used a droid fitted with a speaker and covered in one of Padme’s cloaks in order to give the impression the senator was actually there. 

(Ahsoka didn’t tell him that the plan hadn’t worked at the time. Not until after he’d agreed to it, but that was also probably wise. )

Luckily, the Jedi have a reputation for hiding in the shadows and wearing long, concealing robes. They’d attached a pair of cone cups to the top of the droid, put the robe on, and called it a day.

...But his young, trusting, Temple-Raised Padawan had wanted to tell the Council of their plan. She’d claimed it hadn’t felt right to do something this major without their knowledge. 

And Anakin...he’s tried not to fully condemn the Council in front of her. He hasn’t been shy about his disagreements, and he’s certainly passed on his penchant for ‘creative interpretations’ of their orders, but he’s never outright told her they were a bunch of nerf-herding blaster brains. Thought about it, once or twice, but never said it. Even so...

He doesn’t trust the Council, not as a whole. The individual Jedi he trusts, at least on the battlefield, but as a group? He trusts them about as far as he can punt Jabba the Hutt. 

Only Ahsoka hadn’t asked for him to gain their permission, only suggested they alert them to the plan. And Anakin appreciates that, so he’d agreed with two conditions. 

One: They go together. He hadn’t mentioned it at the time, couldn’t make the fear real by saying it out loud, but he didn’t want something to happen to her while they were separated. He couldn’t have handled being so close to keeping her safe only to lose her at the last second. 

He couldn’t have done that—it would have broken him. 

Two: they only talk to master Yoda. And his Snips...she’d looked at him funny then, but agreed without question. 

The thing is, for something this massive, there are only two Jedi he would totally trust. Maybe three, because he knows that master Plo is close to Ahsoka. But he doesn’t know much else about the Kel Dor master, and this isn’t the time to learn. 

And Obi-Wan has a nasty habit of nit-picking Anakin’s plans, or back-seat driving them. Anakin doesn’t think his former master means to—Ahsoka has pointed out that he himself sometimes does this and it’s always a surprise to him—but it makes it hard to... it just wouldn’t have worked, and Anakin doesn’t want to let Obi-Wan anywhere near this mess anyway.

Master Yoda, on the other hand, doesn’t nit-pick. Anakin knows he’s unconventional enough;  has seen the ancient master assemble younglings to do his dirty work—there was a memorable incident where a whole clan of small Beings tackled Mace Windu to the ground, just because master Yoda had asked them to. And master Yoda obviously cares about Ahsoka, because it was his idea to assign her to him. 

Plus, Yoda is his great-great-Grandmaster. Functionally his Grandmaster, considering the gap in their lineage. Basically his Grand father , and that means family. As much as the Jedi say they're against that kind of thing, family and attachments and love, they don’t seem to count Linages. And Anakin knows that family is important, that its strength and that for better or worse, you can always count on your family. 

“A trap, you suspect?”

“No. Well...not really,” Ahsoka had looked at him, flicked her lekku to ask if she could reveal their reasoning, and only continued at his nod, “master Skywalker says he has a bad feeling—like there’s danger down this path.”

“Hmm. Right, you are, to proceed with caution,” the ancient master hummed, ears drooping, “when the Force speaks, listen to it, we must, no matter the supposed safety. Help, you need?”

“No master,” he’d interrupted before Ahsoka could suggest anything, “but if something goes wrong, we wanted someone to know.”

“Wise, that is. The Force be with You. End our lineage's streak of mishaps, you may, hrmm?” and long green ears had lifted, a rueful smile on the small face. 

Anakin stayed by Ahsoka’s side as they went down to the Prison with the droid. He’d stayed with her in a hidden area as the droid walked to the cell, staying close enough to listen but far enough to not be seen. They’d heard Letta mention that there was more than meets the eye...

And he’d felt his Padawan’s shock when the droid seemed to Force-choke Letta. 

The only time he’d been separated from his Padawan is when they’d taken her away and thrown her in Jail . They’d both been so shocked that they’d let it happen, and the next thing he knew he’d been threatening troopers (on-world troopers, basically shinies. They don’t know, don’t understand ) to let him see her. 

The trial ended up delayed because master Windu had informed them that the Chancellor requested Ahsoka be tried in the Senate instead of by the Jedi Alone. Windu had refused, but that refusal resulted in a stalemate that meant his student would be trapped until it could be resolved. It’s the only time Anakin has ever agreed with the Council over Sheev, and the whiplash on top of everything else shatters him.

As much as he felt he needed to, Anakin didn’t go see Sheev. He didn’t storm the Senate and demand the Chancellor change his mind, because he didn’t (doesn’t)  want his friend to see him lose control. Ahsoka had to stay in that karking cell for almost a full week, and he visited her every single day.

He’d promised that he’d find a way to fix this, and pretended not to notice the way her lekku trembled in FEAR/CONFUSION/HURT and how her stripes were almost black.

(Padme dived into the Law the literal second he told her and commed him almost hourly with updates. She’d been positive that they couldn’t pin anything on Ahsoka, and the young Togruta had actually smiled when he relayed that Padme had offered to “physically fight anyone who tries to take her away from us, so help me!”)

Obi-Wan came back as soon as he’d been able to. His master had somehow managed to end the stalemate, living up to his title of Negotiator, and they’d gone together to get Ahsoka, Obi-Wan keeping a steady, grounding presence in his mind. They’d stood on either side of Ahsoka to escort her to the Council, technically as a ‘precaution’ but actually to protect her. Because they’re family, and that’s what family does .

(Before they’d stepped into the chambers, he’d sent her comfort/loyalty/control and whispered “I won’t let anything happen to you.” Her lekku had flicked at him in acknowledgment, but in truth...he’d said it just as much for his benefit.)

He’d stood by her side, defended her when the Council tried to condemn her when the Senate representative had called for her immediate execution. He’d seen Obi-Wan taping patterns onto his beard, trying to support them both silently. He’d felt master Plo’s flash of desperation as he begged the Force to show them another way. He’d watched master Yoda quiet them all, explain that it wasn’t possible for Ahsoka to have murdered someone, had claimed the plan was his all along and that they had just been acting on his orders. 

(He’d been angry, for a moment, until he realized that master Yoda was giving them validity. Suddenly, it wasn’t two young, inexperienced Jedi whose plan had gone wrong: it was a clever trick by the Grand Master of the Order to expose the true culprit.)

It was Anakin who’d taken her back to the prison to search for answers. He’d done something that he wasn’t fond of doing: released his iron grip on his power and dived into the Force. He’d sat in the eye of the hurricane, and pulled Ahsoka gently into it so that they could search together. Ahsoka recognized Barris’s signature, and Anakin singled in on it like prey.

It was Ahsoka who duelled her fallen friend, desperate for answers and wanting above all else to bring Barriss back to light, but it was Anakin who’d dragged the Mirialan girl in front of the Council, throwing her down onto the floor. 

Obi-Wan had sent him peace/gentle/patience through their bond and subtly gestured to Ahsoka, looking wide-eyed at the other girl. He’d calmed down for her sake because he knew he could be angry later—when he didn’t have to be strong for his Padawan.

Ahsoka had never looked so young, so defeated, as she did right then. As she watched her friend confess to setting her up, to using her as a pawn to bring down the Jedi or whatever drivel it was that she’d used as a reason. 

Anakin’s blood threatens to boil when the Senate guards come to escort Barriss to prison, physically biting his tongue to stop him from suggesting they skip the Senate Trial and just kill the girl here and now. That was almost his Padawan on trial by bureaucrats, spoiled and rich Beings who wouldn’t understand. It was almost His Padawan that was stripped of her rightful place, shamed and made to be a villain. It was Almost His Padawan ! 

Luckily, it isn’t. Ahsoka is safe, proven innocent, and she’ll never have to be thrown to the unforgiving wolves outside his safety net. He puts a hand on her shoulder, offering up comfort/congratulations , and is shocked to find her shields are almost completely down. He extends his own around her, protecting her as much as he can, and examines her closely.

His Padawan is unbreakable, but he's sure she comes close when he leads her out of the Chambers and into their rooms. 

For the first time since he's known her—in all three years of their apprenticeship—she's quiet. Ahsoka has always been energy , when her huntress biology keeps her physically silent she manages to fill a room with her presence and personality. Even sleeping, or forcefully knocked unconscious, she's full of twitches and spasms, like her body can't keep itself motionless. But now...

 She’s quiet the whole walk—voice, face, Force-aura and lekku totally still.

Chapter Text

Three weeks. 

That's how long it takes her to process... everything. 

Three weeks. 

They don't get Leave—your CO being framed for murder isn't a good enough reason, apparently—and they're back on the battlefield the next day. 

Ahsoka goes through it all on autopilot. She laughs with her troops, saves Anakin's butt at least once, jokes about how bad the rations are, and does her homework. They help Master Obi-Wan relocate Duchess Satine, give her a new identity and give her a place to lie low so that the people who tried to kill her (the... Night-Shadow? Owl-Collective? The details are fuzzy) can’t find her, and Anakin wiggles his eyebrows the whole trip. Rex trips over open air one day while they’re walking together. Somehow, Ahsoka’s specialized rations go missing, and she spends several rotations playing Digestive-System-Roulette with the human rations until they land on a planet she can hunt on. Some of her boys (Rex, Fives, Jessie, Tup, and at one point even Anakin) come with her, and she laughs at all of their miserable attempts at stalking through the brush. 

 She doesn't feel present for any of it. 

Torrent, at least, know what happened. Anakin told them because...well it doesn’t matter why. They look out for her when she’s too overcome with...everything to focus properly. Rex especially—she can feel his eyes on her both on and off the battlefield. He never says anything, just keeps close and offers his support.

Together, they get through the mission. Somehow. They go hom—they go to Coruscant, and she doesn't leave the Resolute except when she absolutely has to. When Anakin goes off on ‘errands’ (aka visiting Padme, which almost makes her smile) she sits in their quarters by herself. Master Obi-Wan finds her the second day they’re back and sits with her for a bit. He doesn’t offer to meditate, or give some weird Jedi-wisdom, he just hands her a large, deep mug of tea and drapes a soft, orange-red blanket over her shoulders. It’s fluffy with white stripes, and Skyguy’s presence hangs off it so heavily it’s almost like he’s here in the room. Master Obi-Wan’s signature is in the blanket too, and the scent of Padme’s perfume, making it extra comforting.

(But what’s best is that it’s a perfect match to her skin. She burrows in it and disappears, like her ancestors in the Turu-grass back on Shili. For a moment she doesn’t even exist—and that’s the first time she feels )

At one point, before they leave, Ahsoka looks into the mirror in the ‘fresher and feels anger/fear/disgust rise like a tidal wave around her. Whoever that is in the reflective surface...isn’t her. That little girl, the one who trusted too easily and got hurt, that’s not who she feels like anymore. And she can’t be that person, can’t look like her anymore or else...or else she’ll...

She doesn’t run to Anakin, doesn’t beg him to fix it or break down in tears. She walks calmly into his room, where he’s taking some droid apart, and he just...knows.

“What do you need, Snips?”

“...I think I need a new look.”

“Okay. You know, if you were a human I’d suggest a haircut, but I don’t think that’ll work for you.”

She smiles at that, it’s small but it’s there. Her lekku give a feeble tremor, half cry, half laugh. “No, I don’t think it will. Got a plan B?”

“Yeah, actually, I do. But we’ll have to go into the Temple for it,” Anakin sends her casual/unconcern/patience, putting his droid parts away and cleaning his hands meticulously.

Ahsoka doesn’t know about that. She’s not sure she’s ready to go back into that place, back where she was betrayed. For a split second she hears the Jedi Council calling for her excommunication, absolutely convinced that she’d...

The sound of Barriss thrown to the floor, palms hitting the ground as she caught herself. Twin, blood-red lightsabers coming at her. How cold and empty her cell was.

 The memory of “Thank You, Ahsoka, but things are fine. ”

Her Master must see something, or feel something change in her because he doesn’t wait for a response.

“If you have an idea of what you want, we can just request it. Kix can measure you, I think Tup has one of those fancy measuring things since you’re probably taller than last time. Either I can pick it up on my own, you can come with me, or I could even do a holo-call when I’m with the Quartermaster.” he gets up, puts both hands on her shoulders and squeezes gently, “It’s totally up to you.”

An aura of peace fills the room, and she knows that he’s projecting it out for her benefit. She tries to be a good, strong, unhurtable Jedi for all of four seconds before Skyguy tugs her into a hug, and she totally breaks down.

She does go with him, in the end.  She decides not to use the Togrutan Huntress as her inspiration for the first time since becoming a padawan and finds something simultaneously freeing and horrifying about losing that part of her identity. But the idea of Jedi-robes isn’t appealing either.  (Anakin jokes that she’d look like Obi-Wan, which is kind of too strange to think about.)

The outfit she chooses is soldier-like, and it feels right as soon as she puts it on. She picks out something Blue because Red belongs to the Girl She Used To Be. Plus, it’s a nod to her true family: halfway between the blue of her stripes and the official 501st blue. 

Most importantly, it covers everything except her face and arms. Her back is covered for the first time in three years, and that more than anything brings her some peace. 

She’s done leaving her back exposed—the next time someone tries to stab her, she won’t be left vulnerable.

It starts with the Shinies.

And, at first, it’s not a big deal. When new troopers join the 501st, it takes everyone a second to readjust. The Clones are fast learners by design, so they take to the little codes they’ve created and adapt pretty quickly. Transfers would figure it out in a few days, but Shinies typically took a little longer. And Ahsoka gives them grace—they don’t have to learn it, she’s made it clear that she won’t look down on anyone who decides not to. But they always do, so she gives them as much time as possible for them to get used to a whole new way of communication.

So when the first dozen conversations seem...off, she doesn’t make too much of a note of it. It’s typical, unconcerning, and frankly refreshing to have something so normal happen after the last few weeks. 

When she finds she can no longer read the veterans, some of the troopers who’ve been with them since she was first assigned, she’s concerned. But...it happens, sometimes. They’ll forget, or use the wrong sequence, or sometimes even she forgets, and it changes the conversation. And... Ahsoka knows that when she’s tired or especially stressed it’s harder to remember something unnatural—no matter how second-nature it’s become in the last three years. 

She meditates on it, decides that she’s probably anxious over nothing, and moves on. 

It doesn’t click until the end of that month when they have enough downtime to celebrate not only her life-day but also Anakin’s. It’s been a crazy time, the war seems especially non-stop, so they combine the celebration of both Jedi into one event, despite the fact that they’re normally quite a few months apart. Ahsoka honestly doesn’t mind—she hadn’t exactly been in a celebratory mood when her own life-day had passed anyway, and seventeen seems heavier than sixteen had. 

Anakin’s kept their bond fairly open since the Barriss Incident, which is how she knows something is wrong. Because all around her, people are congratulating her on surviving and expressing their happiness that she’s with them. They’re tapping out patterns that mean Joy, Sincerity, and Excitement. And she feels those same emotions echoed through the Force: her own awareness amplified via the living conduit she calls Master. 

At first, she thinks it’s the noise interfering with her senses: the entirety of the 501st is here celebrating, so there’s a lot of noise and movement and activity. Then she reasons that it must be her own knowledge: she must be mixing things up, confused because her brain is tired from all the stress of the last few weeks.

Then everything clicks into place, and the realization is crushing. 

Her senses are fine, her memory is accurate, and her awareness is correct. But she doesn’t believe any of them. 

Rex catches her as she’s making her way to refreshments. They don't need to use the signals so much anymore, because they’re close enough now that they know each other's tics and markers. She knows that he’s truly happy when his left eyebrow raises up just a little, and he knows that she’s teasing when her lekku swish back-and-forth. They still use it, mainly when he’s in his full kit and she can’t see his face or when she ends up speaking Togruti, but it’s so rare now. 

When Rex catches her arm and says “Congratulations, Cadet. You’ve almost caught up to me in experience now,” his mouth is crooked and his left eyebrow is raised and she knows that he’s genuinely teasing her. Even if she couldn’t see it, she feels it in him.

She still doesn’t believe him. 

All the signs are there, and she has no reason to think that he’s lying to her. He has no reason to lie to her, why would he do that? What did he have to gain from it? It doesn’t make sense and yet Fear spikes inside her so hard it causes actual, physical pain. 

(Across the Room, Anakin turns sharply towards his Padawan. She’s not quite tall enough yet to be seen over the men around them, but he manages to see Rex with her. The elder Jedi makes a note to ask her about it later, but trusts that if there’s danger, the Captain will either handle it or get him.)

Ahsoka knows that Rex notices, sees his ‘Captain’s Face’ take over the more relaxed, leisurely expression and tenses further. Here it comes, the lie bearing fruit but at least this time she’s prepared for— 

“Would you like some water, Commander?”

His face does...something. He looks more gentle, she thinks. He’s certainly taping out the pattern for casual but...

Ahsoka stomps her fear down, forces her lekku and face to make a casual expression and nods.

It’s quieter here, in the galley, and Ahsoka lets go of the breath she was holding. Even after three years, sometimes all the noise and motion of that many people all in one place can start to overwhelm her. She focuses on the sound of a cup filling with water, pushes all her panic/distrust/paranoia deeper (into the Force or into herself, she’s not sure and doesn’t care) and accepts her glass gently. 

“Thanks, Rexter,” she says, and her fingers go Tap Tap-a Tap in sincerity. Then she changes to Tap-tap, Tap-Tap as she continues, “although I’m hardly a cadet anymore. Only two years till I’m officially a Senior Padawan, and I can already do more than some of them anyway! Besides,” she flicks her nearest lek at him, “I’m almost full grown.”

“Is that why you were inching over to the moonshine when you thought the General was distracted?” Tap-tap, Tap-Tap. Teasing. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Tap-tap-tap. Innocence. 

“Of course not. Also, I happen to know that you’re going to get much taller, your lekku are going to get much longer, and I’m pretty sure you still have adolescent markings. So yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re still a cadet, Cadet.” Tap-tap, Tap-a Tap. Sincere teasing. 

Ahsoka bares her fangs and punches him lightly, but all Rex does is laugh. They stand together in comfortable silence for a few minutes before her Captain nods back toward the party. 

“Ready to go back?” The code for Question is more of a flick, but Rex ends it with two long taps to tell her she doesn’t need to respond right away. 

And that’s when it hits her. 

She’s not ready to go back, because she’s expecting each and every one of those troopers to suddenly turn on her. She’s expecting Rex to turn on her still, to find out that this is all some elaborate plan or prank. She feels out of place like she’s changed but no one else did and as soon as they realize it they’re going to throw her out. 

Ahsoka is suddenly aware of how...un-Jedi-like she is. It hasn't bothered her in a long while, but now the knowledge is crushing. She's too emotional, too energetic, too open. She likes to fight, she’s a terrible negotiator, and not much better at strategy. 

These men, her boys , they’re expecting a Jedi-Commander. They’re expecting a leader and she’s a...a...

She’s just a broken teenager.

Maybe they’ve already realized what she is, even before she had. Maybe that’s why they’re lying to her, the way Barriss had, and convincing her that everything is okay when it’s not. After all, Barriss hadn’t felt off when they’d spoken, even after the bombing. She hadn’t felt off during their duel, during the trial... all her emotions had reeked of honest/genuine/sincere and that’s exactly what she feels all around her on the ship. 

What if they’re just waiting for her to screw up so badly, or maybe they’re waiting for Anakin to leave her alone? If he hadn’t been with her, hadn’t stopped her from going to the jail alone...

It’s not logical, or reasonable, and it’s barely even plausible. But Ahsoka would have said the same thing about Barriss if she’d been asked even up to the day it happened. If she’s been caught blindsided before, it can happen again. 

Well... let them tap away. Let them project their feelings earnestly and show her what they want. She’ll stick by her Master as much as she can, double-check everything and give out only the trust required to be safe on the battlefield. 

“Yeah, let’s go celebrate.”

Let them try to set her up—this time, she’ll be ready. 

People notice, which is perfectly fine. In fact, Ahsoka wants them to notice—if they notice, then they’ll know she’s onto them. As long as she keeps one step ahead of them, she’ll be safe. 

It’s weird at first, but she finds she’s more comfortable with the Shinies. They haven’t learned yet, don’t know her flaws and it’s easier to breathe around people she doesn’t have to worry about. 

Plus, she has Anakin...kind of. 

Her master has...been acting strangely. They, along with several other Master-Padawan teams, have been assigned to guard some of the important senators at some conferance. It was supposed to be her and Skyguy protecting Padme, except that the Chancellor had requested Anakin to be his personal guard. 

Not Anakin and Ahsoka, just Anakin . 

Which peeves her off, certainly. Maybe because it’s a brutal reminder of her lack of Proper Jedi Skill. Or maybe because Anakin is someone she knows she’s safe with, and Padme had fought for her too, and having them both around her would have been good and normal and she kind of needs that right now. 

Maybe it’s because he keeps shutting their bond, closing himself off more and more with every passing day of this farkled conference. Growing further and further away, leaving her behind, and if she doesn’t have him then who is she? How is she supposed to be Padawan Tano without Master Skywalker? 

(Her only consolation is that Padme is just as upset as she is. When the boring, senatorial parts of the conference are over, they complain and mope about war and life while they play sabbac. Padme even teaches her how to properly drink wine, and they giggle over how much Anakin would not approve.) 

The conference ends, but Anakin becomes...colder? He’s not mean, or uncompassionate, just...distant. He pushes her more in training, he keeps their bond closed—and she knows it’s not locked but the distance is something she hasn’t felt from him since they first solidified their partnership and it hurts. 

Ahsoka, however, is determined to be a Proper Jedi, a Proper Leader, and to prove to everyone that she’s fully capable. So she doesn’t mention how much she misses her Master, and she doesn’t give in to her desire to relax with her Troops. She keeps her chin up, meditates traditionally, does all her homework by herself, and pushes herself further than anyone else. 

And she makes it a full month. 

Three months after Barriss’s betrayal, Ahsoka’s meditation session (which is mostly just her going over her faults, and reviewing the week's interactions to make sure she’s not blindsided again) is interrupted when she finds she can’t breathe. Her mouth is open, gasping out air in short, sharp gulps, so she’s probably breathing but no air is making its way to her lungs. She’s choking, drowning in the open air of her quarters.

Something is painfully, obviously, wrong but there’s nothing she can do to fix it. Her lekku feel like they’re bleeding, or burning, or both at once. Her skin is hot and cold, clammy to the touch and she can feel her heart pounding like the marching of a droid battalion in her montrals. 

Everything hurts, badly, and it makes her want to rip her heart right out of her body. For a split second, she tries: her claws tear at her chest, leaving holes in the fabric of her tunic and lightly scratching the skin underneath. 

That’s when she thinks poison, neurotoxin and maybe this is it: this is what she’d been waiting for. They’ve finally found a way to get rid of her, now that her Master doesn’t want her and she’s isolated herself from the clones. 

And then she thinks maybe it’s not just her, maybe she’s been wrong about this whole thing and the whole ship is under attack. Maybe something else is wrong, and everyone is feeling this, and shouldn’t she have noticed? Shouldn’t she have heard or sensed, shouldn’t she be out right now fighting for her troops, for her boys, for her family ?! 

Except whatever poison is in her body, it’s sapped her strength. Even as the pain continues to course through her, robbing her of breath and causing her thoughts to spiral, she’s too weak to get up off the floor. Her hands won't cooperate, and her arms are like sand. She goes for her comm, but can’t manoeuvre her fingers to push the right buttons. The little grey device swims in her vision, and no matter how hard she rubs her wet eyes it doesn’t help. She’s stuck, weight like a Hutt crushing her and keeping her prone. 

The datapads containing her homework lift into the air, hovering shakily as her control on the Force loosens with her emotions. 

Ahsoka is ashamed, but she’s also terrified. Not just for herself, but for everyone. And she’s trapped here and doesn’t know what to do. The lights start to flicker, almost like the whole ship is crashing down, and Ahsoka uses what’s left of her strength to roll herself onto her stomach and curl herself into as small a ball as possible. 

It’s instinct really, to hide and try to blend in. Something biological, because Togruta aren’t at the top of the food-chain on Shili and sometimes it’s better to hide than fight. And she knows she’s just giving in to her genetic code because Togruta hunt in packs and she’s alone alone alone and that means she’s dead dead dead. 

It’s instinct too, then, to use all the resources she still can to call her pack towards her. By accident, she calls out in Togruti, so high-pitched that it almost hurts her. But Ahsoka is a Jedi, and she has more than verbal abilities at her disposal. The datapads around her tremble violently and the light in her room pulses an S.O.S pattern. It makes her feel like a crecheling having a nightmare and she’s so, so ashamed to have to resort to something like this, but she’s also desperate and she doesn’t want to die here, not like this. Not alone and weak and paranoid. 

(She doesn’t want to die at all)

So she pushes everything, all her fear/confusion/panic/shame, at Anakin. Pushes hard, like a battering ram slamming into the door that he’s closed between them. She feels the door resist (she’s not strong enough!) before it flies open. 

There’s a tidal wave of question/concern/alarm from her Master and it’s too much, too much with everything else she’s feeling so she slams the door closed on her side and cries. Silent tears rattle her body, making her curl into herself even more. 

Anakin shows up exactly seven-and-a-half seconds later, lightsaber blazing. The light and sound burn Ahsoka’s tender senses almost as much as the roar of fire in the Force he brings with him. 

She hears his footfalls come gently closer, quieter than any other human she knows, and it takes everything in her to not throw herself into his embrace. But he doesn’t get close enough to touch, and she feels like she’s encroached on his boundaries enough as is, so she stays put against every urge. 

He maybe asks what’s wrong, because that’s certainly what Ahsoka hears except that the words don’t process at all so she’s not really sure. She whimpers out a response, struggling to keep it in the human hearing range and likely managing it because he mumbles something she’s pretty sure is “Kix, meet me at Ahsoka’s quarters yesterday !”

Slowly, just like when she had a nightmare in the creche, the Force around her calms. There’s a gentle clamour as the datapads are stacked neatly on the desk, and the lights dim halfway—no longer flickering but not too bright or too dark either. It’s not peaceful, there’s too much lingering emotion in the air for the Force to be quiet, but it’s so much better, Ahsoka would laugh or sigh if she could catch her breath long enough to do either. 

It takes Kix four minutes to get to her, but only fifteen seconds to figure out the problem. 

“Commander,” he says, and whatever tone he’s using doesn’t make it past the fog in her head, “I need you to look at me, please.”

Ahsoka tries, she really does, but the idea of looking Kix in the eye is equivalent to asking her to duel Dooku blindfolded without her lightsabers. She shakes her head and swallows a whimper. 

“Comman—look, Cadet, you’re going to be okay, I promise,” and he taps out the right pattern, and she believes him because Kix never lies about that. When he lies, he says “you’re going to be fine” and everyone knows it. But when he’s not sure, he’ll say “you’re going to be okay” and tap out hopeful instead of promising because he only promises when he’s 100% certain. It’s part of the duty-of-care for him—he wouldn’t break that self-inflicted code. “I need you to look at me, or at least sit up a little because I’m going to give you something that’s going to help you. I can’t do it when you’re curled up like that.”

“Can’t,” she gasps, “I can’t!”

“Ahsoka—” Anakin cuts off sharply, the way he does when someone glares at him so hard he shuts himself up. Somehow, the image tugs at the corners of her mouth even while it punches her in the stomach. 

“Can you not sit up, or look at me?” Kix’s voice is quieter, he taps out ‘patient’ and flicks ‘question’ all at once.

“Look!”

“Alright, that’s okay. Don’t look at me, look at Genera—okay, okay you don’t have to look at him either. Look up at the ceiling, or close your eyes when you sit up. There we go. Now, there’s going to be a prick, right here on your thigh.”

As promised, the needle stabs into her thigh with a sharp sting. It hurts more than normal, probably because her body is still on fire . And then things start to settle, nothing is as loud and she regains feeling in her fingers and toes. Her lekku and montrals hurt, but only with exhaustion. Kix coaches her through several deep breaths as her heart stops trying to break through her chest. Her eyes are closed, but she hears Anakin’s quiet steps walk away briefly, stop, and return. Then there’s a soft blanket around her shoulders.

(She doesn’t have to look to know it’s her orange one. It still carries whispers of Master Obi-Wan’s presence, and still smells faintly like Padme’s perfume. Skyguy’s aura is on it too, warmer than his current feel, and very vaguely the idea of her troops—Rex and Kix, Jessie and Fives—show up in her mind. This blanket feels like safety/home , and all she wants to do is burrow inside it and sleep forever.)

(Unfortunately, she can’t.)

“Ahsoka...what happened ” Anakin presses at her through their bond, knocking gently at the door she’s still got closed. 

...Maybe her half-shrug is a little bit insolent, but she doesn’t know and for some reason, she’s...angry? 

Anakin sighs, and then she imagines he turns to the medic in front of her. “Kix?”

“Standard panic attack, sir. Seemed like a big one, but nothing to be concerned about unless it starts to happen more frequently.”

Instead of relief (she hadn’t been poisoned, everyone else is safe, she should be relieved) Ahsoka goes numb. “Panic attack?”

“Yes sir.”

“But,” and she scrunches her eyes tighter, lekku flicking wildly as she struggles to keep her words in Basic, “but doesn’t that only happen after battles? I’ve never had one before, and we haven’t even done anything dangerous lately!”

Kix frowns at her, frowns hard enough that she hears it in his voice, “It’s not only after battles, sir, they can happen during any period of high stress. And...” the pause makes Ahsoka open her eyes, just in time to see Kix look back at her after glancing at Anakin, “considering how you’ve been isolating yourself, it’s not really surprising.”

The air around them fills with confusion/disbelief as Anakin pipes up, “What do you mean?”

Kix sighs, “I know you’re aware, Commander, but I’ll go over it for the General's sake. Togruta aren’t meant to be alone, not just physically but emotionally. In younglings, it can stunt growth, in adolescents and adults it causes severe psychological trauma. Humans are similar,” he adds, looking her in the eye, “but not to the same extent.”

“I know that,” Anakin snaps, running a hand through his hair as the air around them takes on a frustrated feel, “I mean, what do you mean about ‘isolating’? Ahsoka hasn’t been in isolation, she’s been here with all of you. I’ve seen her, eating meals and training with everyone like normal!”

The medic in front of her pulls his mouth down to one side and raises the opposite eyebrow. Ahsoka’s seen this look before, only it’s normally directed at the people who are in obvious need of medical care and yet refusing it. Probably the last time was when Master Obi-Wan had been with them, and the 212th medic was unavailable so Kix was called in. If she remembers right, the Jedi had been actively bleeding and still somehow insisting that others get care before him. 

...She’s pretty sure Kix had tranqued him or something, but this specific look had preceded whatever the resolution was. 

Her companions meet eyes, the tension so thick it threatens to send Ahsoka back into her panic attack. Instead, she burrows into her blanket, trying to become as invisible as possible. Especially when Anakin hurls his stare towards her, likely sensing her distress even with their bond still shut. Kix’s eyes follow his general’s, and it doesn’t feel so cold but Ahsoka can’t tell if there are any positive or gentle emotions in them. 

“I think,” Kix says slowly, “that’s something you two will have to talk about. From a medical standpoint, I’d suggest doing so now. Unless there’s something else you need?”

“No, thank you Kix,” her Master says, not breaking eye contact with her, “You’re dismissed, and tell your brother’s not to worry—I can feel their concern from here.” 

“Understood. Cadet, after your...talk... try and get some rest. Even a ten-minute nap will help your body reset itself, and you have time for it now so take it .”

Ahsoka nods, grips her blanket carefully so she doesn’t rip holes in the soft fabric, and watches Kix pack his small medical bag. He seems to be hurrying, and she wishes he wouldn’t. Almost urges him to go slower, or asks him some kind of question, or even uses a bit of the Force to pull something from his bag. 

This isn’t a conversation she wants to have. 

But Master Skywalker’s glare is unwavering, so instead, she watches Kix get to his feet and walk out the door. Hears the swoosh of the main door opening and closing, and his footsteps fading briskly down the hall. 

Deep breath in.

Hold.

Deep breath out.

Hold. 

Deep Breath in— 

“So,” Master Skywalker’s voice is above her.

Deep breath out.

Hol— 

“What was Kix talking about, Ahsoka”

Another shrug. Deep Breath in, Hold, Deep Breath out, Hold. 

“Ahsoka, if something is wrong—”

“Nothing is wrong, Master.”

Anger fills the room. “Don’t lie to me!”

The blanket won’t hide her anymore. “I’m not.”

The gears in his mechanical hand squeal slightly in protest as he clenches his fist. His footsteps are heavy, and the stomping swallows her tiny whimper. 

She watches while he paces, silently begging him to just leave and let her be. Or to come back , to be her Skyguy again instead of whatever angry, aloof person he’s been since the conference ended. Either or both options are acceptable. But instead, Master Skywalker marches back-and-forth, back-and-forth in front of her, and the air in the room gets heavier and heavier. 

The dam she’s been building for three months starts to leak.

“Nothing is wrong,” she eventually whispers, “except for me.”

That stops him. Master Skywalker doesn’t move, keeps totally still and Ahsoka is absolutely positive he’s about to explode. She braces for impact, looks away and prepares to say “Yes Master” or “No Master” to whatever he’s going to say so that they can get this over with.  

(She doesn’t see Anakin’s face break, doesn’t recognize his stillness as panic/defeat/desperation . She misses how he rubs his hands down his face slowly, and how he shudders as he exhales)

His footsteps become quiet again, coming closer to her. And Ahsoka panics, for a second, irrationally thinking that he’s going to hurt her even though he’s never ever done that before. The surprise of feeling his body sink down beside her, almost touching but not quite, hurts just as much. 

“Are you gonna share with the class?”

And that makes her blood boil. “What, you want me to tell you so that you can finally get rid of me?”

“Ahsoka—”

The dam breaks.

“No, alright, if that’s what you want Master !” she focuses on the wall in front of her, imagines drilling a hole through the durasteel, “I’ll tell you! Three months ago, my closest friend in the galaxy betrayed me. Killed people, innocent people and then tried to set me up for it. And I was imprisoned, assumed guilty, almost convicted by a council of people I’ve respected and idolized my whole life, and handed over to a bunch of Being’s who would have sacrificed me without a second thought no matter how illegal it was!”

“But it—”

“Yeah, it all worked out, but it almost didn’t!” her stripes burn as they darken, “If you hadn’t stopped me; if we hadn’t come up with a plan, I don’t know what would have happened! No, I know what would have happened: best case scenario is ex-communication and separation from everyone I care about, and worst-case scenario I’d have been execute—”

“But I did stop you, and we did fix it, and you know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“That’s not the POINT!”

“Then what IS the point, Ahsoka?!”

“The point is you shouldn’t Have To !” Ahsoka can’t sit anymore, she needs to move and jump and scream. Her blanket falls off her shoulders in a heap as she leaps to her feet, staring down at her master. “I should be able to take care of myself! I’m a Jed!  I’m a Commander! I shouldn’t...shouldn’t...”

The fire starts to die a little inside her, replaced with an icy numbness. “I should have known about Barriss. I should have felt it, but I didn’t.”

Master Skywalker doesn’t move, other than to reposition himself so that he can see her without craning his neck. “Barriss is—was an accomplished Padawan, with years more experience than you. Not even Master Luminara could sense the change.”

“Maybe she couldn’t,” Ahsoka concedes, “but I should have! I knew something was wrong, I asked before we left. And Barriss told me she was fine, and it was all fine and I believed her. And do you know why  Master?”

“No, Ahsoka,” his voice is either gentle, stern, or angry and she cannot tell to save her life, “I don’t.”

“Because she looked normal.” Ahsoka hugs her arms around her trembling lekku, trying to hide the emotions they’re displaying, “Because I still can’t tell. Everyone has done so much to help me and I still can’t figure out the non-verbals of other species unless it’s in a static holo. Even with you and the Clones I still struggle sometimes, and I hate it. I don’t understand and I don’t know why I can’t seem to figure it out!

“If Barriss had been a Togruta, or even a Twi’lek, I could have figured out she was lying. I’d have seen it. And if you had been close to her, if you knew what to look for, then you would have seen it in her because Humans and Near-Humans are so close!”

“Ahsoka...”

“And the worst part,” she can’t keep the tears out of her voice, or hide how dark her stripes are, “the worst part is that it’s not even...

“I asked after we rescued the Togruta from the Kiros colony. And it’s common to have problems reading species without lekku, but not like this ! Most Togruta adapt and learn, they figure it out really quickly if they spend enough time around others and I haven’t. In three years I haven’t been able to figure out expressions or tone or anything!”

“Ahsoka, it’s oka—”

“And NOW,” she rolls over his words like a tank, gripping the hem of her shirt until her claws rip into the fabric, “now I can’t...I can’t even use what I do know. I’m so scared, Master, so scared that another betrayal is waiting for me. I can’t trust Rex, or Kix, or Jessie, or Fives because they could be lying to me too! And I don’t think they are, but I didn’t think Barriss would bomb the Jedi Temple or murder someone in cold blood and FRAME ME FOR IT but that happened, so what’s next?!

“And then— then you decide to shut yourself off from me too. The one person I can trust, and you decide that you’ve had enough of me! And I don’t even know what I did , because you said... because I can understand the Clones. They want a leader, not the mess of a teenage girl that they got, but you ...”

Her lekku flick and tremble, saying rejected/unwanted/forsaken over and over again. 

“I’ve been keeping my distance, trying to keep safe, and you didn’t even notice. And it hurts , Anakin! I want to trust them, I want to trust you, but I don’t know how anymore.”

Skyguy gets up, and crosses the room to where she’s standing with fists clenched and bowed head, crying into the floor. He hugs her tightly, rubbing soothing circles just underneath her back lek, and rocks her gently. 

“Oh Snips, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Ahsoka shudders a sob into his shoulder.

“There are Being’s like you all over the galaxy, and everyone struggles with expression sometimes.”

“But—”

“But nothing!” He pulls back, and taps her chin with his knuckle gently. Ahsoka responds, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “Nothing is wrong with you, just because your brain works different. My brain works different, and Obi-Wan had to actually fight some of the big-wigs in the temple about it.”

Disbelief moves her lekku and appears on her face.

“It’s true! And I’m going to tell you the same thing he told me: Different isn’t worse, and it isn’t better. It’s not lesser or more. It Simply Is.”

She turns the words over in her head. “I...don’t know what that means.”

Anakin laughs. “Don’t worry about it, it took me a while too. Just remember it, and you’ll figure it out in time. Okay?”

Ahsoka nods, still confused. 

“As for trusting, well...I’m the worst person to ask about trust. I can tell you right now that no one is planning on getting rid of you, least of all me!”

Anger/confusion/frustration leaks through the closed door of their bond as she exclaims, “Then why have you been so distant?!”

“Uh, honestly,” Anakin rubs the back of his neck and makes the same face he does when Master Obi-Wan catches him flirting with Padme, “I...thought maybe I was smothering you?”

“...What.”

“Well, you’re very...grown up. You’re almost to the age where I was knighted, and the Chancellor reminded me of how stifled I felt with Obi-Wan at that age. He was so controlling and involved and I didn’t want to be like that. I wanted to give you room to become your own person outside of me, so... I guess I started weaning off our bond? But I wasn’t going to break it! I just thought you might not want me so...involved anymore.”

A weight lifts off Ahsoka’s shoulders. “Skyguy, I’m okay with you being ‘involved’. I’m not ready to be knighted yet, not by a long shot! And even when I am, I hope you’re still connected and present in my life.”

She gets a lopsided smile from her Skyguy. In her head, she feels him poking and prodding at their bond, kindly asking “ let me in?” It’s kind of scary still, she almost feels like this might be another trap, but decides to open her side of the bond anyway.

Immediately, the charge in the air changes. Love/acceptance/relief coats every molecule inside and outside of her, and it’s not totally clear to who the emotions belong. 

The contrast buckles her knees, but Anakin catches her before she hits the ground. He guides her to her bed and calls the fluffy orange monstrosity on the floor over to him with a wave of his hand. Her master tucks her into bed like she’s a youngling in the creche, and normally she’d be upset but right now it’s so perfect she could cry. 

Ahsoka feels more than hears the lullaby he hums, something low and soft and unfamiliar. His fingers—the flesh ones—trace her forehead and cheek markings and the pleasant sensation causes the leftover tension in her body to ease out. 

(She’s pretty sure that he’s planting a sleep-suggestion in her head, but for once she isn’t complaining.)

“Snips?” Anakin breathes just before she loses consciousness.

“Mmrm?”

“You wanna know how you learn to trust other people again?”

She squints one eye open at him.

“Learn to trust in yourself.”

Ahsoka learns to ‘trust herself’ the same way she’s learned every other skill she’s needed in this war: quickly. Because the other option is death. 

It’s not that she wakes up from her nap and decides she’s ready to trust in herself, crisis over, happy ending. Unfortunately, there are several jarring and slightly painful bumps along the road. 

Every time they end up on Coruscant, Ahsoka feels off-kilter. She ends up doing more solo patrols than she’s ever done before, just to be able to avoid the Temple. For some reason, Anakin always grows distant and angry when they’re in the City-Planet, which never stops being confusing and painful. 

Every time her Master starts to drift into some dark pit of sadness, she pulls him back out. And whenever some Temple-bound padawan or crotchety Teacher suggests that Ahsoka is less than the Jedi standard, Anakin is there to build her up again. 

(It’s awkward and hard, especially at first, but they make it work)

She starts choosing to believe that people are telling the truth. Makes it one of her daily goals: don’t die, finish her homework, and believe in others. Sometimes she has to mentally kick herself, or catches herself withdrawing when she gets overwhelmed, but pretty soon Ahsoka realizes with a shock that she actually does know when people are being genuine. Like a bone reinforced after a break, she re-learns to lean into her abilities and discovers that they’re sharper. 

Smiles seem brighter, and the taps of their code are louder. Not overwhelmingly so, but they don’t seem...hidden anymore. The Force seems to pulse and glow more obviously when she makes the effort to look for the light instead of the dark—and it’s refreshing even as Anakin rolls his eyes when she tells him. It’s easier to slip into meditation, and the humming of her marbles maneuvering in the air lifts her spirits consistently. 

(Rex nods at her as they pass each other in the hall, "It's good to have you back, Cadet")

While Ahsoka wouldn’t say she “trusts herself” completely yet, she certainly feels more like herself than she has since...well... for a while. 

One day she wakes up and she’s not Padawan Tano or Commander Tano. She’s not a Youngling in over her head, or a broken teenager leading stronger Beings to their deaths. She’s not the ‘Framed Apprentice’, and she’s most certainly not an easy target for betrayal. 

 She’s Ahsoka. 

And that’s enough.

Chapter Text

Just when she can breathe again, things get...weird. 

Well...weird isn’t the right word. Anakin has a phrase that she thinks would fit the latter half of the year perfectly, except it’s in some Hutteese dialect that he won’t teach her and won’t translate. But the way his voice snarls, the way he bares his teeth and pushes out hate/frustration/helplessness wherever he uses it makes Ahsoka pretty sure that specific phrase would describe everything that happens perfectly.  

Wanachay huttuk amausachiy .

She’d first heard it right at the beginning of the war. He’d been badly injured, worse than tiny fourteen-year-old Ahsoka had ever seen. Anakin smiled at her, trying to be arrogant and play it off, but she could feel his pain/anger/desperation in the Force. In retrospect, he hadn’t been close to death at all, but the way he’d mumbled “This is such... wanachay huttuk amausachiy ” definitely made her think she’d be master-less.

(The word ‘huttuk’ means Hutt-Sized , so she knows whatever the whole phrase means is a lot of bad.) 

She has a nightmare one night that she doesn’t really remember once she wakes up. But there’s a high-pitched warble of alarm on her lips, and Skyguy meets her in their common area with a cup of tea. He mentions a nightmare too, but when she asks him what was about he growls out the unfamiliar phrase and refuses to elaborate. Their feelings are the same in the Force, scared/desperate/waiting , and Ahsoka commits the moment to memory as their last moment of clarity.

They depart for Ringo Vinda the next morning, and Tup starts to look...off. No one else notices, but Ahsoka...

Ahsoka has spent three years learning everything she can about human expression. Most of that education comes from her Clone brothers, and she can see a change even when she can’t identify it. Tup is so naturally expressive, and the whole trip he’s quiet. He flickers in and out of the Force—the presence of a Being is there but the thing that makes it Tup winks out for a few minutes ever so often. And his face goes blank for just a few seconds even when he’s laughing and joking. 

She brings it up to Rex and Anakin, but they assure her that she’s just reading into things. They’re not dismissive by any means, they watch as casually and carefully as they can, but they don’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Happens sometimes,” they say, “human faces just sometimes forget to emote. When we’re tired or thinking deeply. Don’t worry about it, he’ll be okay.” 

She asks Tup himself and he gives her a smile that feels wrong . Everything is technically fine and she believes him when he says he’s okay. He taps out the pattern for cheerful/genuine and she believes that too, but it doesn’t change how wrong his face is. How different he looks even though he doesn’t . 

Somehow their rations get mixed up and Tup ends up with her food, which isn’t digestible for humans. It’s not her fault that he eats before she does, and ends up sick because of it. And if he has to stay behind on their mission, that’s because Kix said ‘severe food poisoning’ is a liability on the battlefield and has nothing to do with her. Anakin’s look is equal parts knowing/disapproving but she shrugs it off. 

Mostly. 

...Ahsoka goes to apologize when they’re done with the mission because she does feel bad about (technically) poisoning him. 

Wanachay huttuk amausachiy is on her tongue when Tup attacks her , and it’s a genuine struggle to subdue him without hurting him. She’s confused and hurt— physically and emotionally because why would Tup betray her? Then Anakin comes in and Tup breaks through his bonds to attack him too. It’s insane, but Ahsoka knows something horrific has happened—Tup would never attack Anakin, not if the Jedi had a lightsaber to the trooper’s throat. 

(She doesn’t believe he’d attack her willingly either. The darkness returns, the idea that maybe he doesn’t trust her and decided to get rid of her. But she pushes it down, chooses to look at the light and decides that Tup is just sick. He’s going to be fine, and he trusts her. She’ll choose that thought every time.)

Wanachay huttuk amausachiy is what she thinks when Fives volunteers as the ‘control participant’. It’s what she thinks when the scan goes through and nothing shows up on either of them. When Tup comes to from the sedation—both Jedi behind one-way glass as Rex interrogates the younger trooper—and describes how it felt like his free will was stripped away momentarily, “like something inside me took control”,  Anakin mutters the same curse under his breath.

Wanachay huttuk amausachiy is in the expression on Anakin’s face four hours later when he asks Kix if he can modify a scanner. Tup is transported away under heavy guard, and both Jedi spend the night tinkering. Ahsoka follows his direction carefully and accepts the feelings of doom/dread/remembrance he pushes towards her instead of explaining what he’s doing. 

Fives and Tup go under the scanner again and it reveals something new. A tiny chip, mostly organic, in both their brains. Ahsoka’s lekku curl so tight that they hurt, and Anakin’s teeth grate with enough violence that she feels it in her montrals. Fives and Tup are from different batches, and Kix doesn’t know what the chip is or why Tup’s seem to be firing and Fives’s isn’t. 

Rex has it too. So does Jessie. So does Kix , and why would a medic need...whatever that is? None of them have ever been prisoners of war, and it’s not like the Geonosian brainworms that had a mind of their own. This chip in all the others is totally worthless and inactive, but Tup’s is pulsing electricity in the perfect way to shut down his decision-making. They remove the biotech immediately, and Tup can see them without flying off the handle. He curls into Ahsoka’s chest when she hugs him, sobbing frantic apologies until Kix sedates him. 

“ Wanachay huttuk amausachiy,” Anakin growls when they’re alone, and Ahsoka thinks if he had lekku they’d be deep-space black with rage, “I should have known. No slave is sent to a task without a chip.”

(She learns the phrase comes from his past on Tatooine. The dialect is a Slave-dialect, similar enough to Huttese that the masters would allow it, but different enough that it could be used for private conversations. She still doesn’t know what it means.)

They remove as many chips as they can. It’s not nearly enough for anyone to be comfortable, they don’t even make it all the way through the 501st. Anakin doesn’t want to go through Kamino because he doesn’t trust them, and Ahsoka agrees. The necessary payment is that they only have a few machines capable of doing the surgery, and they keep getting sent on missions while they work their way through the ranks. Ahsoka comms Master Obi-Wan because Anakin is too angry to communicate it clearly. She sends him the schematics so that her Grandmaster can scan his own troopers. The 212th is infected, and so is the 104th...who she’d commed behind Anakin’s back. 

She’s been worried about Master Plo for reasons she’s sure are selfish, but she trusts him not to rat them out. Anakin doesn’t exactly... but he doesn’t not trust Master Plo either. And she hadn’t lied about it, just...hadn’t brought it up. It’s a trick that Skyguy himself had taught her, so he can’t even be mad that she’s using it!

Both Jedi Masters are sworn to secrecy, and Ahsoka can tell even without reading their non-existent lekku that it’s a promise they won’t break.

(Maybe if they had, things would have been different.)

 A month passes, maybe less, and they find out that Echo is Alive. Alive and being kept by the Seppies, mined for information like a droid.

Wanachay huttuk amausachiy seems more appropriate for each passing rotation. She repeats the phrase over and over in her head because Anakin had forbidden her from saying it out loud with such ferocity that she’d actually listened. But the words seem fitting, their hidden meaning fits with the uncertainty all around her.

Ahsoka has to stay behind. She’s furious, can’t even get the words out in Basic to express how angry she is about not being allowed on the rescue mission. Anakin argues with her, and there’s a hot minute where they’re arguing in different languages: Ahsoka chirping out arguments in Togruti and Anakin barking back rebuttals in Huttese. The crash of emotions through their bond, white-hot and thundering, is enough context that they don’t need words to understand.

“Ahsoka,” her Master says when his Basic comes back, “I need you here!”

“But—”

“No! Ahsoka you don’t understand,” and she thinks he’s angry at her until he basically bleeds desperation/planning/dependence through their bond, “I need someone here. Someone I trust. If the council calls, you need to find a way to ignore them. And if...if something happens—”

“It won't .”

“But if it does , someone needs to be here to protect the 501st. We can’t let the Kaminoans find out about our alterations, and we can’t split up our boys. I need you here to make sure that doesn’t happen! Please, Ahsoka, you need to stay.”

Anakin hasn’t been hard to read for years now, but Ahsoka is still sometimes shocked by how earnest his emotions are displayed. For a human, a species with the incredible ability to hide and pretend, her Master is so open when he knows he can be. Right now, Ahsoka can almost imagine what his lekku would be doing: his front lekku trembling and curled in pain, back lek flicking to and fro in agitation, stripes dark and desperate. Her own lekku feel heavy, but she channels calm like she’s playing sabbac with Padme, and keeps them still. 

“...Okay, Anakin, but bring him home. And bring yourself and Rex home too.”

There’s a wave of promise/authority/security before he’s sprinting away. 

(Rex tells her later about the disaster of a holo-call, and Master Obi-Wan’s reaction. She spits her water out from shock.)

It’s a harrowing few rotations, with no news possible and no updates. Fives is beside himself with worry, so she has him spar with her hand-to-hand. She teaches him, and some other restless members of Torrent, to meditate. They come up with more and more outrageous excuses to give any hailing ships or summons and don’t laugh at any of them. It’s good for all of them, but even Ahsoka can see that it’s not enough. She’s not sure what would be.

When Echo comes back there’s a celebration, Fives cries and Echo cries and Ahsoka doesn’t think she’s seen so many tears in such a short amount of time. Anakin looks like he’s been dragged underneath a Rancor but he gives her a lopsided smile. Rex sags in a chair, looking almost as bad but equally as joyful, and things start to look up again. 

Then Echo leaves, and Fives goes with him to join the “Bad Batch”. It hurts like she’s been stabbed, but the Force sings and she knows it’s the right path to follow. Anakin calls it “a lesson in letting go” and she tells him he’s “full of dwang”. 

“ Wanachay huttuk amausachiy,” explains her Master while they meditate, trying to release their raw and tangled emotions, “something like that...you don’t come out the same person. Sometimes, when you put the pieces back together, they don’t fit the same way. Echo needs to find a place where he belongs, where he fits in again. Fives will help, probably in ways we can’t. It’s best to let them go, that’s the best way to care for them both.”

“Sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself of that.” Ahsoka prods carefully.

Anakin’s laugh is breathless, and Ahsoka doesn’t sense any humour in it. “I suppose I am, Snips.”

“Master?”

“Yeah?”

“What does that phrase mean?”

Anakin is quiet for so long that she thinks maybe he fell asleep, except for his erratic breathing.

“...We say it when something bad happens when no other words quite fit. What?! ...You know if you pout too hard your face’ll get stuck like that.”

She bares her teeth and lets her lekku show how frustrated she is with him, “That’s not what I asked Skyguy.”

He deflates, runs his flesh hand through his hair and scrunches up his face. Unwillingness/pain/exhaustion float between them, heavy emotion almost suffocating her in its intensity.

“...Wanna spar?” she suggests clumsily, shifting her lekku to apologize and getting to her feet.

“Only if you’re ready to lose again, my very young padawan.”

Ahsoka is on Coruscant when Maul takes control of Mandalore, and it’s purely coincidence. She’s been having visions, strong ones, of doom befalling the Jedi. Anakin had wavered, not wanting to part with her any more than she wanted to be away from the front, but ultimately sent her to the Temple to talk with Master Yoda. 

Her great-great-great-Grandmaster has been an excellent help, genuinely listening to her and meditating with her to help her find clarity. 

“An interesting tool, you have,” he’d noted when she’d taken her marbles out the first night they’d been together—it was a habit, she’d forgotten it was Master Yoda and not Anakin she was with—although she didn’t think he’d sounded upset, “the work of your Master, no doubt!”

“They help keep me focused and grounded, especially when my emotions get the better of me.” it was a battle to keep her stripes their standard colour, even as amusement/peace filled the room.

“Helpful, that is, for Jedi such as yourself. Unique, Knight Skywalker has always been, and his solutions to problems, reflect his nature, they do. Continue to use them, you should. Teach me, perhaps?”

“Of course, Master!”

Together they’d prepared for...something. Prepared an evacuation plan for the Temple, in case of an emergency, drafted plans for after the war to restructure the building with a hidden escape route, and assigned a few Knights and Masters to be on rotation to drive shuttles to safe-spots around the galaxy. 

When Anakin comms her to explain that they’re going after Maul, she has to stop herself from saying wanachay huttuk amausachiy right to his face. She can’t come, can’t even ask because it’s too far and there’s not enough time.  All she can do is trust he’ll be safe, and that he and Master Obi-Wan will look out for each other.

(They always do, but she worries sometimes anyway.)

Then Grievous abducts the Chancellor. Ahsoka doesn’t take part in the battle against the invasion fleet—she’s too busy directing an evacuation of the more vulnerable Jedi. She overhears Master Windu’s comm to Anakin and Master Obi-Wan, but doesn’t know who they call in to replace the ‘Legendary Team’ on Mandalore, because it’s not her. Grievous isn’t a threat to ignore, but even she’s faced him without dying (she hadn’t won, either, but she’d lived) so her Master and Grandmaster will be absolutely fine. Her only request is that some of the 501st come planetside to help with the evac, and Anakin is more than willing to split the battalion to aid her. 

(He only sends her chip-less Clones, she notes. It makes her roll her eyes fondly, but she appreciates his care.)

By the time the Chancellor is rescued, the Temple is free of most Younglings, Elders, and recovering Jedi. Only Knights, Padawans, Masters, those too injured to transport, and a few lingering Initiates old enough to run messages and carry lightsabers remain. Ahsoka is happy to see her Master and Grandmaster alive and mostly uninjured, but Anakin looks...haunted. Wanachay huttuk amausachiy, she thinks, looking into his eyes and seeing the ghosts that seem to dance there. He’s closed off enough that she knows he’s hiding something, and Ahsoka wants to press but...

She trusts him. If he has something to tell her, he will. 

And he does, a few days later. Tells her about Padme’s pregnancy, about his dreams. Asks if she’ll stay with his wife ( his WIFE) and keep her safe and happy. 

“On Tatooine,” he explains slowly, gripping her shoulders tightly, “sometimes it...it wouldn’t be the...”

She pushes peace towards him as he swallows.

“I know that...here there’s a drukload of medical tech that will help the birth go smoothly. And I’m sure Padme’s already done everything she can to keep our...our child safe,” there’s wonder/desperation/fear in his aura, strong enough that Ahsoka can even hear it in his voice, “I’m not worried about that. But sometimes, On Tatooine, mothers would decide to just...die, instead of raise a child in slavery. The hope,” he swallows again, hard, “was that the child would die with them instead of suffer.”

“Padme is free, Anakin,” she tries to be gentle, to soothe even as she’s floundering, “you don’t have to worry about that either.”

“I know, I know. But I can’t get it out of my head, and Chancellor Palpatine refuses to end the war until Grievous is caught—no matter that Dooku is dead. You know how opposed she is to the War and I...

“Just...stay with Padme. Keeping hope alive is one of your specialties, something you do better than almost anyone I’ve ever met. You can keep her safe from threats outside and inside, and I...I can’t...”

On her shoulders, his fingers go ‘TapatapaTap’ over and over. ‘ Help. Help.’

“Of course, I’d be honoured. You asked her already though...right?”

It’s not surprising that he hadn’t, and Ahsoka honestly feels genuine fear watching a heavily pregnant Senator Amidala berate her master. Especially when the Lady turns to her, no trace of the fury from less than a second ago, and tries to hug her around the planet at her stomach. 

“I’m so sorry Ahsoka, I don’t know what Anakin was thinking of pulling you away from your duties!”

“Actually,” Ahsoka pulls away, smiling at the human duo who are family to her in all but blood, “Most of my duties at the Temple are finished now, and Skyguy and I are planet-side for a while anyway. I don’t have in-Temple classes right now either, so it’s really no trouble.”

“C’mon, Padme,” Anakin moves, and Ahsoka gets the sense that he’s trying to use whatever negotiation skills Master Obi-Wan had tried to teach him, “it’ll give you two some time to catch up, and Ahsoka is good with kids! She volunteers at the creche all the time!”

“It’s an unborn baby. Not even I’m good with it yet!”

“........It’ll be good for her education to learn about other species?”

Padme snorts, amusement and exasperation clear in the Force.

"Please, Padme?"

“Alright, Ani, if it’ll give you peace of mind, I’ll allow it. But—” she points at both of them, lowering her eyebrows and baring her teeth in what Ahsoka thinks is a threat, although with how dull human teeth are it’s hard to tell, “we will do it my way, with my rules! That means no fretting, no pampering, no fussing. I will not sit and let you treat me like some fragile doll who’s going to break at any second. Am I understood?!”

“...Padme,” Ahsoka marvels, “I’m pretty sure you could beat me in combat, even considering you’ve swallowed an entire planet . I’d sooner fuss over Master Yoda!”

The human woman's laugh is sincere and bright, “Well said Ahsoka! Alright then, let’s get you settled.”

Anakin’s foot taps out grateful as he moves into the kitchen to make some tea. 

It’s just Padme and Ahsoka that evening, the former kicking her husband ( her HUSBAND) out for a while because of ‘excessive coddling’.  Ahsoka is allowed to stay because "she respects my abilities” and she absolutely does not stick her tongue out at the retreating figure of her Master because that would be unbecoming of a Jedi. ....Or it would be, if someone other than Anakin was there to see it. 

“He’s worried because he cares, although I’m sure you know that.”

Padme gives her a small smile, rubbing her eyes to show she’s tired, “I do. I have a shorter temper now, with the hormones, and...I appreciate it, I do, but sometimes it’s...”

“Overbearing?”

“Exactly.”

The women sit together on the plush couch for a few minutes, Padme helping Ahsoka correct some of her grammar in her latest essay. 

“Thank you for doing this, Ahsoka,” pipes Padme randomly.

“My essay?” she asks ungracefully, stripes darkening as soon as the words leave her mouth. Luckily the human beside her laughs, shaking her head and pulling the teenager into a side-hug.

“No, staying here. I’m sure you’d rather be doing something more exciting, but it means a lot to both of us that you’re here.”

“You’re my family,” Ahsoka shrugs, “I’d do anything for my family, it’s how Anakin taught me.”

‘Anything’ includes waking up Anakin from a nightmare in the early hours of the morning. It’s awkward, walking into the master bedroom to find Anakin and Padme together in bed, but the DISTRESS she feels echoing in his Force-presence demands to be dealt with. 

“ Wanachay huttuk amausachiy,” he mumbles drunkenly, “no more, please! No more.”

It takes everything she has to wake up, and while he doesn’t quite break down his eyes are definitely filled with tears. She hums him a lullaby, halting her way through the one he often hums for her when she’s injured or distressed and floods the room with as much peace as she can. 

That night she learns the meaning of the phrase: Massive, Unearned Suffering. A plea for mercy. 

In Ahsoka’s mind, it’s the perfect descriptor for the times they find themselves in.

(She doesn’t know how right she is.)

Chapter Text

Anakin is an only child by blood, but even before he joined the Jedi his family had been large. It was an untrustworthy, ever-changing, cut-throat kind of family, but that was expected considering their... circumstances. 

So while Anakin has never cared for a natural sibling, he has spent a lot of time with babies— newborn and otherwise. He's even witnessed or helped with several births! His mom always made sure to set some extra portions aside for pregnant and nursing slaves (always hers, she never let him contribute). If she knew early enough she’d scrounge for scraps to make them a swaddling blanket or sling, and she'd always try to be there so that no one gave birth alone. Pregnant and nursing women were almost off-limits to swindling and cheating—at least by the other slaves. He’s not really sure why: he’d never asked and no one had ever offered an explanation. It was just something everyone seemed to know. 

He must have been about seven when his mother had pulled him off their normal route to some brothel. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; Shimi liked to help everyone in any way she could, and the slaves at the brothels needed as much help as they could get. It wasn’t the first time Anakin went with her either, or the first time he’d seen a birth go wrong. But the girl they’d come to help probably wasn’t even Ahsoka’s age, certainly not older, and seeing someone so young in so much pain... there was so much blood and everyone was hurrying and whispering, people coming in and out as Masters requested certain girls. He remembers helping one woman change into another outfit because hers was so blood-soaked it had to be trashed, and the girl’s boyfriend (or closest equivalent, when there was the constant possibility of being sold away) rushing in covered in dirty sand and having to be chased out because he was so unsanitary. He doesn’t remember if mom or baby survived, only that they hadn’t gone back to that brothel for a while after. 

Then there was the memorable moment late in his apprenticeship when he and Obi-Wan had been stranded with a family of refugees—escorting them to safety when the main bridge had collapsed. The woman had begun her labour midway through the suddenly extended journey, causing the husband and Obi-Wan to panic. (They were beyond useless, and Anakin still likes to bring up how his former master had thoroughly lost his head.) Anakin had stepped up, calmed the frightened woman and pulled on every memory he had to coach her through the delivery. Mother and daughter were just fine, and the baby had been named “Laelynn-Sky”-- the former meaning ‘flower of hope’ and the latter after him.

Obviously, Anakin knows that neither of these situations applies to Padme. She’s not a slave: fearful and tired and unwilling to subject another Being to the life she finds herself living. And she’s not a refugee: weak from anxiety and uncertain about what the next day will bring. Padme is a powerful, important woman with the best care money and influence can get. She’s in no danger, not really. 

But...

But he knows these dreams. He recognizes them for what they are: Visions of Fixed Events. Last time he'd ignored them, and it was a costly mistake. 

Anakin isn't willing to take a chance again. 

That's why Ahsoka is with them now. It's why he isn't fighting to go to Utapau with Obi-Wan, as much as it hurts his heart to leave Obi-Wan to lead the mission alone. And he could go with him: Sheev had been the one to request that Obi-Wan go, and the Chancellor knows how much Anakin cares about his former master. If he asked, the young Jedi knows his friend would pull the right strings so he'd be allowed. 

But Padme needs him here. With her. Protecting her. Being with her. She's always alone in his visions, just like Mom had been. And his Mother had been alone, so certainly now by sticking to Padme's side (and with the added insurance of Ahsoka) he'll stave off the darkness. 

When Obi-Wan comes back, probably with Grievous's stolen lightsabers, Anakin will come clean about his marriage. He'll introduce his child to its "Uncle Obi" and his former master will roll his eyes but smile and pulse with warmth/acceptance/pride. Padme will get to say "I told you so" and Ahsoka will demand to hold the baby and pass on her snarky attitude. 

Anakin is going to make sure of it. No matter the cost, he's not going to lose his family again. 

(Not even if it kills him)

Anakin is not like Padme, who can soften the edges of her words without making them any less deadly. He's not like Obi-Wan, who can make a winning strategy out of nothing. And he can't stare headlong into the abyss and find a single shred of light the way Ahsoka can. 

Anakin isn't talentless by any means. He can manipulate with his words, make a plan up on the fly, and he at least knows when he's looking into the darkness. But he doesn’t have the fluency of skill that his family does.

What can Anakin do? 

Simple: he knows how to predict . 

It's a lesson he'd honed after nine years of painful trial-and-error. Learning the most common patterns of behaviour and being able to know which actions and words will provide results, and which ones will create a negative reaction. 

Padme is the hardest, despite knowing her so well. He can normally predict the general way she's going to react, but never the specifics. Like when he opens his heart to her, sharing a little bit of the darkness inside, she'll typically be distressed, and then compassionate. But sometimes she'll set him straight with a hard talk, let him know when he's being an idiot. And sometimes she'll distract him, sometimes she'll validate his struggles, and sometimes she'll do some combination of everything. It's terrifying and bizarre, but it's also one of the things he loves about his wife. 

Obi-Wan is the opposite. Anakin can almost always predict the older man's reaction, sometimes down to the sentence. He uses it to his advantage: telling his former master only the parts of the story that'll go over well, and letting Ahsoka tell the rest—Obi-Wan tends to take some things better from the teenager. Then Anakin pretends to be surprised/offended that Ahsoka would rat him out, Obi-Wan gets to talk about how "you finally know what it's like to have a loud-mouth Padawan", and most times Anakin is largely in the clear. 

Ahsoka is... somewhere in between. Normally Ahsoka reacts within three subsets: optimistic, impulsive/upset, or plotting. Figuring out which one he'll trigger can be tricky, but once he narrows down the most likely subset it's easy to figure out her specific reactions. Rex and his brothers tend to be similar if a little more on the side of "easy to predict" than Ahsoka. 

Strangers are also pretty easy, once he's able to decipher the culture. Just about everyone follows whatever bizarre norms they're used to, and that makes predicting reactions uncomplicated.  Additionally, Jedi typically attract the same responses from different cultures: people react with awe, fear or hostility. And each of those probabilities isn't hard to figure out—no matter the species, people aren't typically very subtle. 

So this...situation is...fairly far out of his comfort zone. 

And he doesn’t have time to think . Improv is one of his specialties, but watching master Windu fall some twenty stories because his friend—the man who’d made special time for him when he was still a frightened and lonely child, who’d listened to him when no one else would, who’s always supported him, his Friend —had pushed him out a window with Force-lightning...

Well, it’s a little more than he can handle.

Anakin doesn’t have time to think and yet he feels frozen. Windu had fallen because Anakin had cut off his hand. But he’d had to because Windu was going to kill the Chancellor. And that’s illegal, it’s treason and the Jedi don’t do treason. But Sheev had been shooting lightning at the Jedi master, and only Sith can shoot lightning. And the three dead Jedi behind him certainly didn’t all have simultaneous heart attacks! He hadn’t even known Sheev was Sensitive until now, let alone a fully manifested Sith Lord. 

(How had he not known?! He can tell a Force-Sensitive from clicks away, he can feel their energies like they’re calling to him. Normally it’s overwhelming, bright and loud and intense, but Sheev has always been quiet and calm and barely in the Force at all. Anakin's supposed to be the Chosen One, how could he have not known ?!)

His voice scratches, echoing and distant as it rips from his throat, “What have I done?”

He stumbles back, sitting ungracefully on...something. He can’t tell, his brain is on a constant loop of “What have I done”s punctuated by master Windu screaming and lighting popping and the dull thud of Dooku’s head hitting the floor. Over and over again, and it’s like being back on Mortis when the Son had... had... had done something to him that ripped his head and his heart and all Anakin can think—the only thought above the symphony of horror—is how much he wants his Mom. 

(Mom could take it away. She always took it away, whenever it was too hard to bear she took it on. When he was punished too severely, or too sick to work the way he needed to, or scared to do what was right... Mom was right there for him. Sharing the burden and keeping him safe. But Mom isn’t here now, she’s dead because of him and it doesn’t matter how much he WANTS , she’ll never be able to take his pain away again.)

“You are fulfilling your Destiny, Anakin,” Sheev’s voice floats through the air, and it’s soothing but wrong , like a sedative on the battlefield, “Become my apprentice. Learn to use the Dark Side of the Force.”

Anakin knows how to predict, especially when it involves a command from a Master. The correct response is always “yes Master” and “it will be done as you have asked, Master” and it’s always followed by a show of submission. On Tatooine—and on the battlefield—it’s a nod. Here, it’s a bow, or a kneel. He’s supposed to kneel, and agree. 

And Anakin has another talent, born from the same place in his life as his first. He knows how to read people, how to know what they mean despite what they say. And right now, Sheev is saying he can save Padme. He’s saying that he can make Anakin stronger, that by becoming one with the Dark he can control it and lure it away. 

Master Sheev is telling him that he’s the only one in the galaxy who can help. 

Anakin can’t live without Padme, he won’t lose his family. Padme was the first free Being to see him as a person —someone with thoughts and feelings and rights. It was the first time he’d felt like an equal and he loves it. It’s addicting, falling into her arms and not being worth more or less than anyone else in existence. No titles, no expectations, just love. 

If Anakin loses that he’ll be no more than a slave. And he can’t go back, won't go back to that life.

Master Sheev is saying that there’s no one else, that he’s trapped.

And Master Sheev is right.

 Because Padme can’t protect herself, not from this kind of threat. She can’t speak to it and dismantle it with her words alone. She can’t pull a blaster out of her skirt and fire a deadly bolt with practiced precision. Anakin trusts his wife, he really truly does, but she can’t protect herself the way she needs to. And Obi-Wan is off-world, he thinks. Utapau isn’t too far, but there’s so much clean-up after that kind of battle, and Obi-Wan could be injured or away from a reliable ship. There’s no way he’d be back in time to help, and Anakin can’t even tell him yet because... well he just can't! The 501st is planet-side with him and Snips, but he has no way of mobilizing them, and Ahsoka...

Ahsoka is with Padme.

That’s what he’d asked her to do, and he knows she wouldn’t fail him. Not with this. 

But Ahsoka is a Padawan. A strong and capable Padawan but a learner nonetheless. She’s not as strong as he is, not yet. Not as strong as Master Sheev, not if the Sith Lord could kill three Jedi and best master Windu in a duel. He trusts her, and he doesn’t doubt her loyalty but could she really take on Death itself?

His mind is still reeling, instincts screaming at him to get up and do what needs to be done. He needs to give the right answer to protect himself from pain, and protect his family from ruin. And he knows what the right answer is, he knows just like he knew with Watto and Gardulla and any other Master who wanted to ‘rent’ him. 

But as he gets up to move, unable to meet the eyes of his new Master, a memory rises unbidden to the surface. 

Before he’d gone to master Windu, he’d stopped at home. He needed to check on Padme, needed to know she was still okay after the hours he’d spent away from her. She’d been fine, of course, but he needed to check anyway. And he’d spoken to Ahsoka just before he’d left, privately because he knew that her enhanced hearing would alert her to any threats while they talked. He’d told her what he knew about the Chancellor being a Sith and admitted his certainty that whatever Doom he’d been foreseeing was almost upon them. 

“I can’t lose her, Ahsoka, I can’t!”

And Ahsoka had responded, “You Won't.”  

But it wasn’t just her words that put him at ease, it wasn’t just that she was taking his concerns seriously and helping him be proactive in preventing a problem. 

Ahsoka has never been able to lie very well, especially not to him. It doesn’t come naturally to her—her personality is too open to allow it—but it's also partly because of her genetics. Togruta as a species don’t lie very well because their lekku tend to give them away—if you can read them. Most can’t, so for the majority of the galaxy Togruta are very good liars, but to anyone who knows how to interpret the little flicks and curls of the extra appendages, it’s fairly simple. 

(She’d explained it once to Torrent Company, and he’d overheard. Apparently, lying isn’t very helpful when the creatures wanting to eat you don’t speak your language. You can’t talk an Akkul out of a meal, and when your survival depends on being honest about your skills, your body adapts.)

At first, Ahsoka hadn’t been able to lie to him out of ignorance. And then she hadn’t had the skill to control her lekku. Now, though, Anakin knows that Ahsoka can lie—however badly—and chooses not to. She chooses to be honest as a show of trust/care/duty and does everything she can to never be in a position where she doesn’t have to say something she doesn’t believe. 

And when Ahsoka said “You Won’t”, she didn’t flick her lekku dismissively. She didn’t push soothing/peace/gentle at him or pat him on the back as he left. 

Ahsoka said “You Won’t”, and grabbed him firmly around the shoulders, launched determination/responsibility/truth through their bond, and signed with her lekku. The left lek curled up tightly and then flicked out towards him, the right lek mimicking it almost a full second behind. It’s a sign that’s somewhat sacred, it’s meaning heavy and binding. 

Her mouth said “You Won’t” and her Force-presence said “I’m ready to make sure of it” but her lekku? Her lekku said, “I Declare It with Authority”. 

She’d more than promised him, she’d told him that it had already been determined. It wasn’t a goal she was hoping to get to, but a fixed event on par with “the sun will rise tomorrow” and “it will be hot on Tatooine.” 

There’s an almost audible crack, and Anakin finds himself staring at the misshapen face of his former friend. It's like all the evil inside him has been forced outwards, the outer layer peeled back to reveal the hidden truth. And Anakin wants to kneel before Master Sheev, wants so desperately to give in to what he knows—what’s familiar and safe. All he wants is to keep his family safe, and Master Sheev is offering him a chance to do just that. 

Before he kneels, Anakin tugs on his bond with Ahsoka. He doesn’t let any of his emotions slip through, and he doesn’t yank it to tell her he’s in trouble. He tugs it like he used to tug on Mom’s tunic when he was scared when Gardulla was about to punish one of them and he didn’t know what to expect. He just wants to see if she’s Still Here, Still Safe.

Ahsoka nudges him back somewhat playfully like nothing is wrong. It’s the same way she nudges him with her shoulder after a battle, bumping into him almost carelessly but throwing a smile over her shoulder as she walks away. 

“I’m Still Here,” is what that nudge means, “Still Safe With You.”

Master Sheev’s face starts to contort in a way that’s all too familiar to Anakin. It means his answer has taken too long, that soon his choice will be made for him and it will be painful. 

So Anakin chooses. 

He turns and flees.

For the first time in his life, he refuses his Master.

(He’s finally free)

They leave under cover of night, but Anakin knows better than to think they got away. 

He’d barely made it out of the Senate building, flinging panic/DANGER/hurry at Ahsoka as soon as he was close enough. And when he was closer, the hazy idea of ‘hanger’ had entered his mind, which was where Ahsoka had met him. Padme, R2, and C3PO were inside a ship that made the Twilight look like a luxury cruiser, but his Padawan assured him that it flew like butter and he was too drained ( scared/unravelling/Free) to question it. 

Rex and Kix were inside as well, the former giving out heavily coded orders to the rest of the 501st and the latter pouring over a datapad. Anakin didn’t have to look to know it was an instructional pad on childbirth. 

They make it out of Coruscant just before the planet goes into lockdown. Padme cries, sobbing and holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded, and he feels her thoughts turn to the people she’s left behind. 

Ahsoka drives. Rex co-pilots. Kix studies. 3PO fusses and R2 keeps their ship hidden. Anakin has no idea where they’re going and doesn’t care. 

He’s so scared he thinks it might kill him, and he knows it’s leaking into the Force around him but he can’t do anything to stop it. 

At least if he dies here, he'll be surrounded by family. And if they all die, they’ll do it together. 

(He won’t have to be alone)

He and Ahsoka get a call sometime later, on the comms they haven’t been able to discard yet. It’s a summons back to the Temple, directed at all Jedi. 

It’s a trap, and they know it. 

Minutes later, there’s a disturbance in the Force so great it’s like an abyss opening. Anakin feels his legs give out, causing him to fall heavily and leaving him panting and breathless for several agonizing seconds. Rex’s swearing is easily heard from the cockpit, so he gathers Ahsoka’s reaction is equally as visceral.

Anakin wants to turn around. He wants to stop whatever is coming, wants to end this whole affair. The Jedi are his family, the same way that the Slaves are his family, and he can't leave them behind. For a second, he’s so angry at his former friend, and at the galaxy as a whole, that he gets up to demand they go back and destroy the summons. The words die on his tongue when he sees Padme, finally sleeping on the modified bunk Rex and Kix set up. He can’t leave her, not even to save hundreds. Instead, he summons his meditation beads (Ahsoka had packed an emergency bag for everyone, and he’s so unspeakably thankful) and works on calming himself. 

They cross paths with Obi-Wan on his way to the temple. He boards, lightsaber ignited when he sees Rex, and relaxes so visibly when he notices both Ahsoka and Anakin that for a second, Anakin is sure he’s going to fall. It’s Obi-Wan who tells them about the Clones, about how most of the 212th suddenly fired on him. A small squadron had turned on their brothers, Cody helping the General escape and making him promise to stay safe. 

They tell Obi-Wan about the trap, and Anakin tells him about the Chancellor. 

He thinks the elder Jedi will be smug, will mention something about how slimy politicians are and how he never trusted Palpatine. Anakin can almost hear the lecture; anger and frustration instinctively rising in preparation.

He’s totally deflated when his former master pulls him into a hug , fills their bond with regret/sorrow/sincerity and whispers “I’m so sorry, Anakin.”

(Maybe he's not as good at predicting Obi-Wan as he thought.)

And then Obi-Wan is off, taking their comms so that he can dispose of them and turning back to go into his ship. 

“Someone has to shut that beacon off, after all.”

Anakin wants to cling, wants to tie his former master to himself and force him to stay. He only doesn’t because Ahsoka launches herself into her Grandmaster’s arms. 

“Make sure you come back, master Obi-Wan”

The ginger Jedi nods, patting her back and tapping out sincerity instead of answering verbally. Then he removes himself tenderly from the teenager's embrace and reaches into the pocket of his robe.

“Cody gave me these, they’re a kind of comm-unit Hotwire was making. They send coordinates only, and he was sure that they are largely untraceable—given that no one knows they exist.” 

Anakin takes one of the devices gingerly, strapping it on his flesh wrist in case his mech one interferes with the circuitry. 

“I’ll send you Aldeeran’s coordinates when I disable the beacon and am safe again, " Obi-Wan's voice is hard, ready for battle and giving commands, " Only then should you send me your coordinates, and I’ll meet you there. Promise me, Anakin, that you won’t do it sooner. No matter how long it takes—I don’t want your location to be known by those who would hurt you.”

Anakin nods numbly but knows that Obi-Wan will feel his promise/responsibility/understanding. 

“I’ll be with you again soon, padawan-mine.”

The rest of the journey is...long. It’s hard to be cooped up, unable to help or even know what’s happening. Kix mentions that Padme is likely going to give birth soon, and Anakin’s anxiety spikes so hard that a dent forms in the wall. 

(He passes out soon after, the worry is too much for his body to handle.)

The Galaxy is in chaos, and that’s the only reason Anakin finds why they make it so far without being stopped. Three or four rotations pass before Obi-Wan sends the proper code, and Ahsoka takes them to some tiny, Mid Rim planet so that they have something to send back. Anakin almost faints with relief. 

That’s where they hear about the Empire. Palpa—Sidious’s address is holo-vised, and they watch the Republic crumble. Ahsoka snarls, Rex tightens his hold on his blaster, and Anakin has to fight down nausea. No one speaks for several seconds, until Padme whispers, “so this is how liberty dies...with thunderous applause...”

Obi-Wan arrives at their location maybe two rotations later in a ship that’s decently nicer than theirs and definitely stolen. He arrives just in time to help them commandeer a medi-bot from the local hospital. They take a spare on Padme’s behest because she’s unwilling to deprive someone else of care. 

It’s two more rotations before they leave because Anakin and Ahsoka decide to swap the ship's engines. Their dingy transport transforms into a dingy-looking transport: banged up enough to pass by without being suspicious, but fast enough to carry them to safety. They sell the rest of the parts and hope the credits will still be usable wherever they end up.

Luke and Leia are born in a cramped room as they race to the Outer Rim. Luke comes first, screaming and hollering until Ahsoka goes to soothe him through the Force. Leia comes shortly after, refusing to be quieted until both she and her brother are nestled in Padme’s arms. 

Anakin is in awe, tears streaming down his face and his heart beating painfully. His fear isn’t totally gone, and watching Padme curse and yell and squeeze his mech-hand so hard she’d broken a finger is a memory he thinks will haunt him. 

But...she’s still here. Exhausted, voice hoarse and skin sweaty, but alive . Kix and the medi-bot fix her up, and they both assure the anxious room that she’s going to be okay. Anakin does weep then, openly in a way he’s never done before. It’s like the darkness lifts from around him, resting at the edges as they normally do instead of clinging around him and climbing down his throat. 

He holds his son and his daughter. Counts their fingers and toes, commits their faces and Force-signatures to memory. Kisses them both on their foreheads and places them in the basket they’d stolen from a market and placed a pillow in. It’s a poor nursery, but his children don’t seem to mind.

He kisses Padme too, no less gently than he’d kissed his newborns. She chuckles, and sounds almost asleep when she mumbles, “told ya”

Obi-Wan squeezes his shoulder in congratulations and sits down in a meditative pose next to the baby basket. Anakin feels the other man reach out to the twins through the Force, lock onto them and set a watch that is better than any nanny-droid. 

Ahsoka hums, something he recognizes as Togruti but can’t think to translate, and reluctantly goes back to the cockpit. But he feels her in his head, gently brushing against his mind so that if anything happens, she’ll know. 

Rex, who’d piloted through the birth, comes in briefly not long after. He looks wildly uncomfortable, and Anakin would laugh if he didn’t want to risk waking any of the three sleeping forms in the room. But the trooper gives Anakin a nod and a smile, taps out the pattern for cheerfulness and mouths “victory” before he returns to his duties.

(3-PO tries to hover, fussing over everyone the way he’s been programmed to do. R2 chases him out, beeping fond expletives that made the golden droid sputter in horror.)

And Anakin, surrounded by his family, lets go of his breath for the first time in years.

Finally, Finally , he’s safe.

Chapter Text

They’re on the run for almost six full months, jumping from planet to planet trying to stay ahead of the Empire. Most of that time is spent on their little ship, only stopping planet-side long enough to restock supplies—with maybe an extra rotation or two so that they can regain their sanity. 

They’re stopped by the Empire often, but not as often as Ahsoka would have thought. The checks are random: they’re not stopped while entering or exiting a system, only when they’ve been in one place for more than a few hours or days. It’s almost like they’re being tracked, but whoever is doing the tracking isn’t sure what they’re looking for.

After four surprise ‘inspections’, two planetside and two in-space, Master Obi-Wan figures that they’re probably looking for Anakin. He doesn’t tell her Master, only her, Rex and Kix, because he doesn’t want Anakin to “do something drastic, like give himself up for our safety.”

(It's always Ahsoka, Rex, or Kix answering questions anyway—they’re the only ones who weren’t public figures. Ahsoka has to laugh because during the war she’d almost resented how Anakin was the poster child of victory and she was barely a footnote despite being right there . How the tables have turned.)

After six stops, maybe one month in, Rex changes his look. He’d been keeping his hair tied, unwilling to cut it without a proper razor, then suddenly there’s wavy blond locks falling to his ears. He grows a beard which is also blond but feels so different that it shocks her awake from where she’d been falling asleep on his shoulder. (Upon further inspection, Master Obi-Wan’s beard is also different from his head hair and Ahsoka feels somehow cheated.) And then Rex takes the final step and shaves his eyebrows. If they hadn’t been flying through space with no way in or out of the ship, Ahsoka would have drawn her lightsaber at the first sight of him. 

Sufficient to say, he looks different enough from Jango Fett that no one looks twice at him.

Kix decides for something much more subtle: hair just shorter than Rex’s and dyed to match, fake glasses he picked up from...somewhere, and pierced ears. Ahsoka is beyond thankful that he’s not as unrecognizable, and if she buys him a pair of blue-fang earrings as soon as she finds ones that suit him, it’s her business. 

Both clones look convincingly like brothers, and that piece of normalcy is soothing. 

Anakin and Obi-Wan functionally switch appearances: Obi-Wan shaves his beard and Anakin grows one, Anakin shaves his head and Obi-Wan grows his hair out. It’s like walking into an alternate universe, and for a few days, Ahsoka has to find them in the Force to be sure she hasn’t fallen into some wormhole. 

Padme stops wearing makeup, puts her hair up for practicality instead of elegance, and switches out her standard wardrobe for a few plain outfits. It’s the simplest disguise excepting Ahsoka’s, and yet she’d managed to go shopping without being recognized so it’s clearly effective. 

(Granted, Senator Amidala hadn’t had children, hadn’t even been pregnant or married. Two babies strapped to one’s body is a pretty convincing disguise all on its own.)

Ahsoka...doesn’t change. Well, her outfit changes slightly—she keeps the blue but purchases a short-sleeved shirt and pants that Anakin says make her look like a mechanic. She switches her akkul-tooth headdress for a brown leather one, and Padme helps her find a pair of matching fingerless gloves and a belt similar to what she wore when she first started as Padawan. 

She doesn’t have any hair to change, to colour or cut or grow, and at first, she feels...naked. All around her, people are changing drastically and she...can’t. She can’t even put on makeup to disguise her markings—trying to alter them symmetrically is too hard, and she can’t just hide them entirely since Togruta are born with the distinguishing streaks. It’s frustrating, and even though no one recognizes her the anxiety plagues her whenever anyone stares for a second too long. 

Two or three months in (Ahsoka begins to lose count) Obi-Wan compliments her and randomly congratulates her on growing up. Then Padme pipes up to say she likes how Ahsoka’s face has started to change, and Rex says “I’m still going to call you Cadet”, so Ahsoka takes a closer look at her face in the mirror. And does a double-take. Her facial markings, which have been the same for years, have started to change. The streaks on her cheeks are longer and sharper. The ones above her eyes are thicker and just barely starting to curl around the bottoms of her eyelids. Even her lekku are beginning to lose their solid chevrons and move into the more abstract bolts. It’s subtle, her adolescent markings are only just starting to morph into her adult ones, but it’s there.

(She doesn’t feel so out-of-place anymore)

Luke and Leia grow so fast it shocks her.

Leia is more obviously fussy, projecting her wants and needs directly into the air around them, but is also much more easily calmed. Once she gets what she’s after, she’ll settle down into the sweetest baby Ahsoka has ever laid eyes on. As soon as she senses any kind of sadness/tiredness/upset , she won’t settle until she feels she’s fixed the negative emotions.

Luke is not quite opposite. He rarely fusses, but when he does it can be hard to tell what’s wrong. He projects less—something no one is sure is normal or not—and tends to have specific preferences. More than once they have to pass him around until they find the person he wants to be held by. His smile is infectious and freely given; Ahsoka can already tell he has a generous heart. 

Both children are good-tempered, playful and energetic. Luke is the first one to cut a tooth, but Leia is the first to reach for a bottle. They cry when the other is out of their sight, which at first is sweet but soon grows exasperating. Eventually, Anakin manages to plant a very rough bond—reinforcing the threads naturally tied between the twins so that they’re aware of each other almost always. It’s fragile enough that they’ll be able to break it naturally when they’re old enough to develop their own shielding but strong enough that it won't accidentally unravel. 

(Ahsoka loves them both enough to travel to the ends of the galaxy and back, and promises herself that they’ll grow up safe, loved, and surrounded by family)

Jessie contacts them maybe an hour before they get stopped for the who-knows-how-many-eth time. He talks to Kix and Anakin while Ahsoka deals with the soldiers. 

The news is revealed at the same time, although Ahsoka has the bigger shock. 

This time, it’s not some nameless, foreign human that demands to see her identification— it’s Voca. 

Ahsoka knows Voca, he’d been part of the 501st. He’d been under Appo, somewhat shiny before everything went sideways but nowhere near fresh-out-the-tube. The two of them had shared a meal during battle, he’d asked if her rations were as bad as his, and they’d each swapped a little of each other's to check (they hadn’t swallowed any, just tasted. Both species' rations were equally terrible.) 

She almost smiles, relaxes, and hugs him. Almost shifts her weight so that she’s not ready to incapacitate him at any moment, almost starts telling him that everyone’s okay and invites him in.

Almost.

She doesn’t, because this is nauseatingly wrong.

Ahsoka knows Voca, and she recognizes him even after the distance of time. She knows his eyes and his stance, and she knows that it’s him standing in front of her with his arm outstretched waiting for her to hand over a datapad for him to read. 

This is him, and yet it’s not . Voca is clearly here in body, but he’s not there in the Force. She can see him, hear him, even smell the chemical he used to clean the paint off his armour. But she can’t feel him, and that scares her.

As she hands over the datapad, her mind goes to Tup, how he’d flickered in and out of the Force right before his chip had gone haywire. Thinks of the 212th firing on Obi-Wan, almost an entire company suddenly acting totally out of character

She holds her breath while he scans the files. 

All the men of the 501st are resistant to Force-suggestions, but even if they weren’t Ahsoka doesn’t think she has the heart to take away the will of any of her family.

But...can she incapacitate him? Can she willingly hurt a vod? 

What if...what if she has to kill him?

Would she be able to do that, if it means keeping those under her protection safe?

(She would, she knows she would, but the thought makes her sick.)

He doesn’t recognize her, not even a little. He just hands the datapad back, says “you’re good to go, Ma’am” and watches as she climbs back into the ship. 

She doesn’t release her breath until she’s back on the ship, the doors secure behind her and the telltale whirrs of the engine starting up buzz in her montrals.

Voca hadn’t recognized her.

He hadn’t existed in the Force, despite being right there.

He hadn’t even tapped out a code, which she knows he knew, to let her know that things were okay. 

...Voca hadn’t had his chip removed, they hadn’t had time.

Anakin bumps into her just as Ahsoka puts the pieces together.  Their words tumble over each other in their rush to share the information.

“It’s the chip’s—”

“The Clones have all been—”

Both of them stop, take a deep breath, and wait awkwardly for the other to begin again. After several seconds, Ahsoka gestures for Anakin to continue.

“Remember how the 212th turned on Obi-Wan? Jessie managed to find out why. It’s the biochips, the one—”

“The one we found in Tup,” Ahsoka rushes, “I know!”

Anakin closes one eye, “You know?? How?!”

“Voca was the one doing our ‘random inspection’.”

“Voca?!”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka runs a hand down her lekku, willing the emotions darkening her stripes to lessen, “he didn’t recognize me, and I couldn’t find him in the Force.”

Anakin runs a hand over his fuzzy scalp and lets out a sigh. His emotions are careful as they run between their bond, mindful of the highly-sensitive babies with no shielding sleeping not far away. Regret/guilt/pain floats across, and Ahsoka echoes them.

They’d lost one of their own. If they’d had more time if they’d looked into it more, or requested time off...

“Did...did Jessie say anything else?” Ahsoka puts as much false normalcy in her voice as she can, desperately trying to ease the tension of ‘what-ifs’.

“Yeah. The galaxy is basically sithspawn right now—wherever things aren’t in outright anarchy, Sidious has a durasteel grip on everything.”

She can’t help the primal growl that crawls instinctively out when she hears that name. 

“Padme is considered dead, the funeral is set for next week. It’s going to be holo-vised apparently, with a parade and everything. You’re also considered dead, although there’s a bounty on your body that doubles if it turns out you’re alive.”

“What, I don’t get a parade? I’m offended.”

Anakin rolls his eyes, “I’m on the top of the wanted list, directly above Obi-Wan. Which may be the first time I’ve ever been listed above him for anything.”

“Not true, my young apprentice,” Obi-Wan interrupts, “you were at the top of the Council’s list of ‘most consistent padawans’”

“How did I manage that?!”

“Simple,” Obi-Wan tucks his hands into the dark sleeves of this overcoat, “you were consistently causing trouble.”

Ahsoka bursts out laughing, humour doubling when the younger human throws her a half-hearted glare. 

“Don’t be so smug, Snips,” he punches her lightly, “I’m pretty sure you’re second on that list.”

Obi-Wan exhales sharply, “Third, actually.”

“Who...who’s the second?” Ahsoka manages as the last of her laughter fades.

“Me.”

Anakin and Ahsoka gape at him. He doesn’t elaborate, just turns with a smirk towards Anakin and Padme’s room, where Leia has just begun to cry. 

“Wait... What?!”

The first five months are spent losing their Imperial tail, but the last month is spent trying to find a way to avoid acting on Anakin’s idea.

Not because it’s a bad idea. It’s an excellent idea—which is why they ultimately have to take it. 

When Anakin first suggests hiding on Tatooine, Obi-Wan and Padme react with outrage.

“You cannot go back there—”

“I know you still have nightmares—”

“It can’t be healthy for you to live there again—”

“And Sidious knows your past with the planet—”

“Exactly!!” Anakin is tired/resigned/exasperated, running his hands down his face and interlocking his fingers behind his neck, “Shee—Sid—He knows how much I hate that place. He knows I won’t ever return willingly or bring the people I care about there. It’s the last place he’d ever think to look, and even if he does...”

Anakin shrugs, “It’s nearly impossible to find anything there if you don’t know exactly where to look.”

Obi-Wan’s presence shimmers just under the surface, frustration/fear/desperation threatening to bubble over. Padme is almost vibrating, Ahsoka recognizes her ‘Senator Face’ but can’t discern the cyclone of emotions within her. 

Leia kicks and wiggles from her place in Anakin’s arms, and all three Jedi feel her attention shift to Padme—the only one not shielding her distress. (Not that she can’t but Ahsoka suspects that she doesn't want to . The elder woman is probably not shielding out of spite) Anakin hands his daughter to her mother wordlessly, shoulders dropping their tension as he makes the transfer. He doesn’t move away, putting his arms around his wife’s shoulders and holding her close. 

Seated on Ahsoka’s lap, Luke lets out a glowing laugh when Anakin forcefully exhales peace into the room. 

“Ahsoka?” Anakin calls after a moment, not taking his eyes off his daughter as she pats Padme’s face and babbles knowingly, “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, what do you think?”

Ahsoka shifts Luke so that she’s supporting him with one arm, and holds up a finger. The baby reaches for it so she gives it to him, flicking her lekku more obviously instead to let the waiting humans know she needs to gather her thoughts. 

“I...can see the logic in it,” she starts, locking down her fear/uncertainty in the Force but letting her stripes darken, “but maybe we should try and find somewhere else first? We can keep Tatooine as a backup if we can’t find anywhere else that’s safe.”

So they try. They fly all over the Outer Rim and even revisit the outskirts of the Mid-Rim. Not everywhere is Empire-Controlled just yet, and they consider several of the more hospitable planets. But every time they make plans to stay, Luke kicks up a fuss. Screaming and crying his lungs out, he even manages to float tools and small pebbles around. The very Force around him seems to contort and spoil whenever he discovers they’re thinking about laying down a homestead. 

They try not telling him, not speaking about it in front of either Twin (Ahsoka swears they’re communicating somehow). Then they try not moving the nursery out until everything else is off the ship. Even staying in one place without moving things off for a rotation or two, just to let him get used to not being in motion.

It doesn’t take—the second Luke discovers that they’ve decided to settle down, he makes his indignation very known. 

No one wants to, but they end up on Tatooine anyway. 

They’re all ready for Luke to start his usual antics, braced for the tears and sense of WRONG from the infant. 

It never comes. 

Luke decides that this is where he wants to be, squealing with delight and grabbing at the twin suns. Leia, not to be outdone, projects her contentedness/happiness/pleasure for all the world to feel, and snuggles into Obi-Wan’s chest. 

After an extra day, just to make sure neither twin was going to change their mind, they decide it’s permanent. No one older than six months is particularly happy, but they manage to make it work. 

Ahsoka gets to meet Anakin’s family —his brother and sister-in-law that she didn’t know existed—and is absolutely floored . Completely speechless, and for a second she’s fourteen again and struggling to read the strange humans in front of her. Her lekku twist and flick nervously, but Kix and Rex look out for her as always: tapping subtle patterns so that she can follow along with the flow of the conversation. 

When Owen lets them know about a homestead not far from the edge of his farm, one that’s for sale , Ahsoka labels it down to coincidence. Or luck. She doesn’t actually believe in either of those things, but the world is so upside-down that she figures they’re just as likely explanations for how there’s a large property available just as they come planet-side... and one that’s close to the only people they know as an added bonus.

Then it turns out the seller, some laserbrain with delusions of grandeur wanting to “make it big in the Empire”, is only accepting Republic Credits . Obi-Wan mumbles “Will of the Force strikes again,” and Ahsoka is inclined to agree. Anakin manages to haggle the price down significantly, which is impressive to everyone watching. She’s seen him do this before, but never for something this big and never this much.

(Obi-Wan may be the negotiator, but Anakin can barter with the non-negotiable)

Luke laughs as they hand over the credits, and his presence is blindingly bright. 

They fix up the house, Owen and Beru help them set up the vaporators and agree to teach the non-desert-raised to use them. Beru comes back the next day with a proper crib, a dozen baby slings in assorted colours and sizes, and some kind of weird machine Ahsoka doesn’t recognize. 

Padme’s tears of gratitude envy Anakin’s. 

Owen and Beru also help them choose new names, vetoing any that seems too unusual or unpopular on Tatooine. Anakin chooses Kinaan fairly easily, claiming it comes from the same family of names as his real one. Padme chooses Pyla out of a list of popular girls' names because it “feels right”. They decide to keep the name Skywalker mostly because neither of them is willing to part with it—Anakin refuses to give up his heritage completely and Padme expresses that she wants to use it as her last name after so long keeping it a secret. Rex raises the strongest objections, but Owen calms him down by informing them that it’s a popular enough name to not raise any eyebrows. 

“People use it when they don’t have another name to go by—mostly slaves to be honest, but it’s not uncommon for freed people to keep the name either.”

(Anakin’s mouth squishes and his shoulders come back lightsaber hand twitching, but Padme squeezes his hand and the anger in him starts to fade.)

Obi-Wan decides to go by “Ben” for reasons he refuses to share. “Just Ben,” he says, “and if someone needs a last name, I’ll figure something out.”

Rex and Kix don’t change. Their names are too deeply embedded in their identities, too personal to give up. No one pushes the issue.

Ahsoka is given free rein to choose—as a non-human, her name can be as obscure as she wants it to be. She chooses “Ashla”: the name of the Light-Side of the Force in Togruti when written out and pronounced like Basic.

(Of course, they keep Luke and Leia’s names the same. No one knows they exist, so they can’t be recognized.)

After a month on Tatooine, they manage to have a speeder, working electricity, plumbing, and a couple of decent sources of income. There’s the moisture farm, which is hard and exhausting but profitable nonetheless. Kix ends up working as a mobile doctor mostly by accident—word somehow spreads that he was a medic in the Clone Wars and before anyone can blink he becomes very popular. An extra comlink later has him travelling to different homesteads, 3-PO tagging along as a translator more often than not. 

Jessie and Cody are the only ones allowed to have access to their secure comm channels, so naturally, they become their off-world contacts. Padme and Anakin both try to find a way to help the rebellion with mad desperation, practically begging their clone confidants to find a way for them to help. They get shut down by everyone, including Bail Organa and Mon Mothma. 

It’s not that the others don’t want to help, Ahsoka is practically dying to go out and fight the Hutt-spawn ruining the galaxy. But...

“Patience in the face of Injustice has never been a strong suit of yours,” Obi-Wan advises them all, “That’s why we’re here, to keep you grounded until the right time.

“Then, we take back what’s rightfully ours.”

(Not long after Mothma becomes the unofficial leader of the unofficial rebellion, Cody caves. Or rather, Bail caves and sends the work through Cody. Padme ends up proofreading speeches, Obi-Wan and Rex look over their covert-ops strategies, and Anakin points out engineering flaws in both Rebel and Imperial schematics. Ahsoka keeps the channels secure and tests their cyber-security. Everyone breathes a little bit easier and sleeps a little bit better.)

(They find their footing, keep their eyes and ears—and montrals— out for the Empire, and watch the Galaxy move.)

(They do it all together)

It doesn’t matter that it was Ahsoka’s idea, or that the Force becomes jarring and jagged when she almost breaks her rule. Not knowing the fate of the other Jedi—the Younglings, Elderly, Injured, and the few Knights that made the journey away from Coruscant—is torture. It doesn’t help that a good portion of the 501st were sent to escort them to safety, because now she’s worried about both of her extended families. 

She gave Jessie the contact info—the one with both Appo and Master Yoda’s com numbers on it. It was safer considering Ahsoka, who was a fugitive being actively hunted, was in far more danger than Jessie, who could pretend to be on the Imperial’s side.

 Appo will have to give updates to his brother, not her. And she trusts Jessie to let her know if something had—or has—happened. 

Like if the ships had been attacked.

Or if the safe houses were found.

Or if they’d accidentally assigned some of the chipped clones to escort them, and the chips have been activated again—or maybe they just received the order late, and are only acting on it now. 

The Force-shielding alloy they’d been developing had been more theory than fact when they had to evacuate, what if they weren’t able to build a hidden shelter at all? Then Sidious would be able to find them and hunt them all down, and Jessie might not even have the time to tell her!

...

...Ahsoka has the numbers memorized, she could easily just call. As a check-up. The line is secure, she’s been working on buffing it all week. She’ll be quick, just call to see if she even really did anything—if her half-formed visions and hastily constructed plans had saved lives. 

The Force jabs at her, a gentle but insistent prodding trying to nudge her away. 

But...she’ll be quick. It probably won’t even matter! Just a check-in, on a secure channel...

The Force pushes her again, harder this time. Ahsoka ignores it—she’s been meditating for almost a half-hour on this and is no closer to answers! If the Force won’t tell her the difference she made, she’s going to find out herself!

“No!”

Luke, who’s been sitting on the floor between her crossed legs quite contentedly for the last 10 minutes of her meditation, slaps his small hands on the backs of hers. “No!”

“...No?”

“No!” The 10-month-old pushes himself up and turns around, reaching his pudgy hands to squish her cheeks, “No!”

“...You think it’s a bad idea too?”

“Bad! No!”

Ahsoka sighs, feels her stripes warm up as they darken and flicks her back lek dramatically. “Well...alright. What do you think we should do instead?”

“Fly!” Luke punctuates his demand by lifting his hands straight up, “Fly!”

Ahsoka has, in the few months since they’ve made their home here, become the go-to Twin-sitter. Watching the ‘precious cargo’ (Rex’s code name hasn’t yet faded from her mind) is the job she’s... “best suited” for isn’t the right word... 

When they’d first arrived at Tatooine, Anakin had explained to them that desert life requires a certain kind of delegation different from living almost anywhere else. 

“We have to play to our strengths, and stick to them,” he’d bled serious/dire/command so heavily Ahsoka had stretched out her senses to look for oncoming attackers, “Even the environment here wants to kill us, which means we have to play it smart.”

“Divide and conquer,” Rex nodded.

“Yes and no,” Anakin clarified, “No: we have to teach each other because we all have to be able to do everything. Yes: there’s no use in doing things you’re terrible at either. For example, Obi-Wan will not be cooking unless absolutely everyone—including Luke and Leia—are unavailable.”

The ginger man rolled his eyes so hard Ahsoka thought they might get stuck. 

“By the same vein,” Anakin smirked, patting his former Master on the shoulder, “I will not be going to sell our harvest. The people we need to sell to are...not the kind of people I get along with.”

“The kind of people you’ll yell and fight with, you mean.”

“Yes, Ahsoka, thank you for your contribution. Obi-Wan’s strengths mean that he can actually talk to those sleemos and get us a good deal, and mine will ensure that we don’t all die of food poisoning.”

“That was one time!”

“At least ‘ one time’ every year !”

So they’d split the tasks into pairs. Padme and Obi-Wan meet the higher-status locals and do their business. Obi-Wan also paired with Kix to manage the house—which mostly consists of making Anakin clean up after himself. Anakin and Padme cook, an arrangement Ahsoka’s almost positive is code for “flirt and make out in the kitchen”. She’s definitely walked in on them eating candied fruit in secret “where the kids can’t see”. ...Or, well, she hadn’t seen it on account of the slice of pear she’d been offered in exchange for her silence. Rex paired with Anakin to work on the vaporators, and Ahsoka will tag along sometimes to learn the skill too. (They’ll all learn it eventually, Ahsoka just managed to wiggle her way in first.) Once a week, Ahsoka and Rex go to the market. Anakin came with them at first, to teach them the language and the “art of the haggle”, but now it’s uniquely their time.

Kix has his medical practice, and the extra income more than makes up for his singular household duty. 

And Ahsoka watches the kids. Often with Padme and Anakin, when they can spare the time (more often than they should, she knows). Between her enhanced hearing helping find the very mobile and surprisingly quiet pair of infants, her empathic abilities in the Force, and her experience in the creche, it just kind of...fits. 

 And, of course, they spend most of the day distracting “Uncle Obi, Uncle Rec, and Uncle Kick”.  

“Fly!” Luke yells again, Leia making her way over to join in. 

“Hmm...that doesn’t sound like the magic word...”

“Fly...Thanks?”

Ahsoka laughs when Leia’s annoyance/exasperation/impatience leaks into the room. She looks at her brother, who frowns at the change of atmosphere, and then stands to mimic his pose. 

“Fly Peas!” she exclaims, and shrieks when Ahsoka obediently lifts her off the ground with the Force. 

“Me! Me! Peeeeeas!!!” Luke amends, and their shared joy as they drift slowly through the air — just high enough that their feet don’t touch the floor—  is nearly blinding. 

Booted feet have barely landed when Luke bolts from the room as fast as his little legs can take him. Leia pauses for a moment, tilts her head like she’s listening, and then crawls speedily after him. 

Ahsoka, who can feel Anakin’s presence coming closer and knows exactly where the younglings are headed, follows at a slower pace. 

“DADDY!” 

When Ahsoka turns the corner, Anakin has both his son and daughter securely in each arm. He’s radiating contentedness , but Ahsoka can feel the tired/annoyed/weary lurking just underneath. She can also hear the grind of sand in his mech-arm and see the telltale scratches from where he’s scrubbed his face too hard in an attempt to be free of the pesky grains. 

“What a pleasant surprise,” she says, and her lekku twist with concern. “Are you okay?” they ask silently. 

“Well, I wanted to see my favourite minis,” he responds with a smile. Ahsoka interprets his answer: a big fat ‘no’.

Leia reaches across to her brother and pats him on the foot. They make eye contact, seem to come to an understanding, and Leia reaches back to Ahsoka. 

“Hunt?” she asks when the Togruta has her securely. 

“Make, Daddy? Peas?” Luke asks simultaneously, using the same hopeful tone as his sister. 

With every passing rotation, the twins’ personalities break through a little more clearly and their interests become a little more obvious.

Luke had walked in on Anakin and Ahsoka tinkering with R2 one day and was instantly enamoured. He could watch someone fix, upgrade, or make something mechanical contentedly for hours, and Rex had made some wooden tools for the little boy to use. It was a common occurrence for Luke to waddle over and ask someone to “make” with him, which mostly consisted of handing the youngling spare parts and watching him stack them together and hit them with his wooden wrench. 

Leia, on the other hand, loved to accompany Ahsoka on her hunting trips. The elder girl had taken both twins separately, but Luke hated not being able to run and explore. Leia loved being carried through the tall, dry grass of Tatooine. She would be entirely silent, and sometimes even point to a creature she wanted to stalk. Ahsoka would occasionally take her out even when they had enough meat, just because it seemed to give the little girl a sense of peace. 

(Padme had, at first, been concerned about nightmares. But Ahsoka had explained—verbally and through demonstration—that Togruta were capable of killing without violence. “It’s our specialty. We have a reputation of being venomous since we keep kills so clean.” And Leia always came home full of quiet joy, so Padme had given her permission)

Former-Master and Former-Padawan exchange a look, surprise/curiosity/amusement passing through their unbroken bond. It’s also not unusual for the twins to decide to ‘cheer up’ their adult caregivers, by typically splitting up and requesting activities they know are enjoyed by all. How they manage to read past the carefully constructed shields, communicate, and then enact their plans is still a mystery, but it’s also very sweet. 

Anakin shrugs, “Obi-Wan took my place with Rex, Padme is still working on that paper for Mothma, and Kix is in town, so I have nothing else to do. It's okay with me if it’s okay with you.”

Ahsoka flicks her lekku forward in agreement and instructs Leia to “blow a kiss bye-bye” to her father and brother.

Their life certainly isn’t ideal, and it’s not what Ahsoka envisioned for the end of the War. She’s almost more tired now, constantly on guard for when the Empire finds them. She’s scared of losing more than she already has, and not a day goes by without her mourning the dead and worrying about the living. Her Padawan Beads rest with her Lightsabers in a pouch designed only to open when it recognizes a sequence in the Force only she knows, something she’d designed with Anakin while they were travelling. The symbols of her former life are too dangerous now to wear, but she can’t bear to be without them all the same. 

Her life at eighteen is nothing like she planned, and not even in the same solar system as what she wanted.

But the sparkling aura of their homestead—drowned in Light despite the Darkness that has tried to smother them—makes her certain that the path they chose was Right.

Chapter Text

Things change just before the Twin’s sixth life-day.

Luke starts to get restless, sleeping fitfully and eating less. He won’t talk about why, only shakes his head and shrugs when asked. His presence in the Force dims, and he clings to Leia more than usual. 

(Which is impressive, because the siblings are already inseparable.)

Leia becomes her brother’s protector with war-like focus— grabbing his hand and standing between him and any adult who pushes him too hard. She makes him eat and shoves their beds together so they can sleep together like they did when they were toddlers. 

“It’s a Force-Thing,” she shrugs when Ahsoka asks what’s wrong with Luke, “It’ll get better just like it always does. Just like Uncle Obi’s lesson.”

“...Which lesson was that?”

“About being patient. We have to be patient and then it’ll get better.”

Shortly after their conversation, Cody contacts them on behalf of Bail. 

“That’s right, sir,” the Clone Commander hasn’t changed much, except he’s in the garb of an Alderaan guard instead of his plastoid armour, “and the Senator is quite adamant that you accept.”

“Bail has never been one to take ‘no’ for an answer,” Obi-Wan smirks, but his stance is defensive.

“And you’re absolutely positive it’s safe?” Anakin is sitting on the bed he shares with Padme, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Worry/disbelief/fear swirl around him, but Ahsoka can sense he’s holding it in. She can also hear his deep, steadying breaths as he tries to maintain control. 

“Affirmative, sir. It’d be Jessie coming to get you, and we’ve tested our shielding with several other Jedi. With respect, sir, I wouldn’t be on board with the idea if I could see even a potential flaw with the plan. I want to keep you safe just as much as you want to stay safe.”

“We trust you, Cody,” Padme wraps an arm around Anakin’s shoulders, and Ahsoka can hear her tapping the code for ‘it’s okay ’ a few times, “it’s just...it feels too good to be true.”

“I understand,” she’s never been good at reading Cody, but his face twitches and the atmosphere around Rex changes to fond/sadness/hope and she suspects the other clone is expressing something similar, “but I can assure you that it’s the truth. Jessie can be there in a standard month if you decide to come.”

“We...don’t need to decide now, do we?” 

“No, but how soon do you think before you know? This window won’t last long, and I don’t know when another will open.”

All three Jedi look at each other, reaching out for guidance. Padme and Rex watch them, and Ahsoka is in awe of how much trust pulses from them. 

“A standard rotation should be enough,” Obi-Wan nods, “we’ve made bigger decisions in less time before.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Cody salutes before his holo fades away, and the room is left in silence. Ahsoka glances at the clock and notices with a start that she’s late to wake the Twins from their nap. Anakin’s head pops up as she turns to leave.

“Kix is in there with them,” he states, “he got back not long ago, and they’re still asleep.”

Ahsoka nods, reaching and feeling for herself that Kix is indeed watching their ‘precious cargo’, and moves instead to sit just beside her older brother’s feet. The air is heavy, thick with the desert heat and the weight of thought all around them. 

“I think we should go.”

All heads snap to Padme as she continues, “Bail is offering us a chance to actually help, to be fighters instead of refugees in hiding. I think we should take the offer.”

Her face is stone, determination etching every line of her face. Ahsoka hasn’t seen this look in a long time, not since the fall of the Republic, and it fills her with Light. 

“Agreed.” Rex stands at attention, ready to move out. 

“As much as I want to get off this Force-forsaken husk of a planet,” Anakin speaks slowly, unsure, grabbing his wife’s hand and squeezing it tightly, “I’m...not sure—this is—I mean—I don’t...” Desperation/Loneliness/Pressure oozes past his shields.

Obi-Wan crosses the room in a couple of short strides and kneels to be level with Anakin’s downcast face, “Why don’t we meditate together? You don’t have to make this choice alone.”

Anakin nods, relief pouring out of his body as the burden lifts off his shoulders. Ahsoka nudges his knees lightly with her shoulder, projecting support/encouragement/belief toward him. Ever dutiful, her friend raises an eyebrow and tilts his head at her, silently inviting her to join. 

“I think I’ll try and meditate with the Twins,” she answers, shaking her head, “I won’t be able to go for a long session just now, I’ve got too much...”

Her mouth twists as she searches for the words that express her thoughts. Instead, her leku flick and twist: ‘ this new information is too confusing, and I don’t know what to think’ . 

Anakin nods, tapping understanding on her thigh with his foot. 

Luke is waiting for her, sitting straight up facing the doorway when she walks in. It’s eerie to see the boy whose favourite pastime is racing his sister to the roof and back keeping so still. Kix is asleep in a chair in the corner, and Leia is gently tucking a sheet around his legs. 

(Kix, of course, needs to be told too. She should wake him, send him to Rex so that his brother can catch him up. But old habits die hard, and Ahsoka still can’t bring herself to wake her troopers for anything less than a life-or-death situation.) 

“Auntie ‘Soka?” Luke whispers, “Are we gonna metidate now?”

“Would you like to?” she whispers back, sitting in the space where Leia’s bed used to be and not bothering to correct his mispronunciation.

Luke and Leia look at each other, and Ahsoka feels something pass between them. The bond between them hadn’t broken when they developed their mental shields, instead growing stronger. In the Old Way, it would have been discouraged, broken as gently as possible and labelled as a ‘dangerous attachment’. But Anakin certainly isn’t about to return to the Temple’s teachings, while both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka sense only Light coming from their connection to each other. 

(In Ahsoka’s opinion, the Old Way didn’t work well enough to continue to enforce anyway.)

Leia scowls as they come to an agreement but obediently sits cross-legged in front of Ahsoka. Luke hums quietly as he scoots off the double bed, sitting next to Leia and putting his hand on her knee.

“Luke says that we probly should, ‘cause it’s Important Right Now.”

“Oh?” Ahsoka’s lekku curl with curiosity, “And why’s that Luke?”

“Mm.”

“‘Cause he says you have to make a 'portant choice, and that you should say yes to it.”

Luke shoves his sister, scowling. 

“What? S’what you said, and we know she’s just gonna find out herself soon. I’m trying to speed up the process so we can go do other stuff!”

For her part, Ahsoka adds ‘ Luke may be having visions ’ to her list of new information. Then, reaching mentally for her tiny students, she pours calm/focus/soothe into the Force around them. Their squabbling stops immediately, both children in tune enough with the Force to feel the change. 

“Luke is right, there is a big choice we have to make. But I don’t yet know which way the Force will lead, so we’ll need to search and ask for guidance.” Luke and Leia both turn wide eyes to her, and she smiles, “Do you think you can help?”

Two firm nods respond with their agreement. Ahsoka calls her meditation beads to her and pulls them all into a meditative trance. In the distance, she can feel Obi-Wan and Anakin travelling along the same path.

When Cody calls back at the scheduled time, the household is agreed. 

Only a few rotations after the Twins turn six, the Skywalker household arrives on Alderaan.

Luke and Leia are very conscious about what Padme had labelled ‘Stranger Danger’.  Starting about when they were four or five, they’d wanted to go to town with Ahsoka and Rex. That luxury comes with a hefty list of rules, and neither twin is keen on having the privilege taken away. 

So they’re very intentional about keeping each other in check. They practice using the fake names, never use the Force in a visible way, and dutifully recite the rules before every trip. When Luke starts to wander, trying to see whatever new droid or shiny object has caught his fancy, Leia is right there to grab his hand and pull him back. When Leia lingers behind, trying to listen in on an off-worlders conversation or study some new game, Luke makes sure to alert An Adult and tug her along. 

(Anakin had pulled them aside one at a time and told them that they had to protect their sibling. “It’s your duty to keep them safe, can I trust you?” “Ya-huh, I’ll be the best protector ever!”)

The trip to Alderaan doesn’t really change that, and Ahsoka isn’t really sure why she thought it might. In her head, the Core World is so much safer, and it’s so much harder to remember that she’s a fugitive when surrounded by lush greens and familiar faces. Neither child has the same experiences of course, and the Force around them is taut with warning, but seeing the sheltered siblings interact with new people in the same way they’ve always done is...surprisingly shocking.

They’d been wary of Jessie until Kix had hugged him and introduced the other soldier as his “little brother”. From that point forward until the end of the trip, Jessie had two small, curious shadows at his heels.

(Ahsoka overhears them one day while they’re in flight, talking about what it must be like to live for years without your sibling. “I dunno how Uncle Kix did it,” Leia confesses, “I don’t think I could live without you for even a minute!” She walks in on them asleep, as close as they can be physically and leaking connection through the Force.)

It takes them a little bit longer to warm up to “Uncle Bail” and “Aunt Breha”. The royal couple is often busy, and doesn't have the time to be gaining the trust of two six-year-olds while they’re running a planet, supporting a rebellion, and organizing the continued care of several safe houses for fugitives across the galaxy. They try, and Ahsoka sees how much of an effort they make to engage either twin in conversation.

So the older couple has to be content with half-smiles, one-word answers, and mostly-hidden faces for a few weeks. Until Leia wakes up one day, marches straight up to Bail and Breha, and announces that they are “connected by the Force”. Luke keeps his guarded attitude for a good while longer—it’s obvious he's bothered by the ‘connection’ his twin shares with the almost-strangers that he isn’t a part of. Then Breha brings him cookies decorated like R2D2, and he declares them both “The most trusted-est in all of the world”. 

After the third introduction (Cody is so completely out of his depth with children, she’s never seen him flounder so much), Ahsoka figures out the pattern. Warriness when they first arrive, caution when they’re clearly known to one of the ‘Safe Adults’, and acceptance when given permission to be themselves. 

Of course...three isn’t a huge sample size, so maybe Ahsoka should have known she hadn’t figured it out. 

Not that she expected to see Satine on Alderaan. It’s a miracle that Satine is even alive , let alone willing to relocate now that things have calmed down enough that she could potentially be recognized. 

Yet here she is, looking as regal as ever despite her plain clothing. Ahsoka is sure her expression is “stern”, because Satine has always looked stern, but there's too many different auras here to pinpoint her exact feelings through the Force.

(Of course, from what Padme and Obi-Wan have told her, the former dutchess isn’t exactly one to be idle when she could be fighting for her beliefs. Bail’s offer of work in the rebellion alongside trusted allies had likely lured her in the same way it had all of them. Still, it’s surprising to see her.)

Beside her, Obi-Wan is clenching his teeth so hard she can feel the vibrations as they grind together. He looks more like himself these days, short red stubble coating his chin and a long coat draped around him, but Ahsoka doubts he’s worried about being recognized. Not considering the way his eyes dart to Satine, then down at the datapad in his hand, and then back again. 

(Ahsoka should probably do something, but she’s having too much fun watching him try to work up the nerve.)

“Is that her?” Leia whispers loudly, pointing at Satine. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan answers, anticipation/anxiety/excitement palpable in his voice and aura, “it is.”

“Oh... Are you gonna do somethin' then?”

Obi-Wan clears his throat and rubs at his stubble, “Yes, I suppose that’s...yes.”

Ahsoka bites her cheek to keep from laughing, but from Obi-Wan’s glare, she figures he sees the way her lekku stripes are brightening. 

Satine looks their way, and Obi-Wan stiffens as though shot. Ahsoka does let out a giggle then, but turns it into a polite cough at the last second. 

Neither human adult moves. They just stand, rooted to the spot, looking at each other. 

Leia looks from Ahsoka’s twitching lips and bright stripes to Obi-Wan’s pale face and wide eyes, to Satine’s flat mouth and twitching hands. 

Ahsoka sees the look that crosses the younger girl's face, recognizes the expression as the one Anakin used to make (still makes) before doing something sithspiting insane, but doesn’t connect the dots quite fast enough to prevent what happens next.

(In hindsight, her slow processing was definitely a blessing.)

Letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand, Leia struts confidently to Satine. The motion seems to jump-start Obi-Wan, he and Ahsoka are only a few steps behind the young girl. Ahsoka knows her older friend is nervous because he pulls his presence back into himself completely—something he only used to do during battle.

From here, a few paces away, it’s easy to feel the Mandalorian’s emotions spike into nervous/confused/curious as she looks down at the six-year-old standing at her feet. Obi-Wan stops suddenly, glancing at the datapad again and turning just slightly away from the feminine duo. Ahsoka keeps half an eye on him while she closes the gap to her charge.

“Are you Lady Kazuko?” Leia asks, “Because you look just like the holo my Uncle Bail showed us this morning. We’re supposed to be looking for a Lady Kazuko, and I think you’re her.”

Satine kneels down to be at Leia’s level, “I’m not sure if I am, did your Uncle Bail give you a passcode as well as a holo?”

“Oh yeah! It was...uh...”

“Where light resides,” Ahsoka supplies when Leia turns, pleading eyes her way.

“Hope blooms afresh,” Satine’s smile still looks stern, despite her soft volume, “It’s good to...meet you, Lady...?”

“Ashla. And I can see you’ve met my niece, Leia.”

“Indeed.”

Leia bounces on her toes, eager/inquisitive/energetic pulsing into the Force around them, “You still have to meet my brother Luke, and my Mama and Papa! You’ll like them lots. We should go home so you can meet them, and say ‘Hi’ to Uncle Bail.”

Satine laughs, standing up and allowing Leia to grab her hand. “It seems you’ve a grand welcoming committee waiting for me.”

“Yeah, but you’ll have to wait because it’s kinda a long ride. Oh! But you can meet my Uncle Ben right now!”

Obi-Wan turns at his fake name, and Ahsoka is honestly surprised he doesn’t fall from the speed of it. She’s positive the only reason he doesn’t fling the datapad out of his hands is that he uses the Force to discreetly catch and pull it back to him before anyone notices. 

Satine’s eyebrows skyrocket into her hair as they make eye contact, which is...curious. Neither says anything, allowing a happily chatting Leia to lead them to their speeder. 

Ahsoka splits her attention between making sure they end up in the right speeder, checking they aren’t being followed, and trying to figure out whatever weird thing is happening in front of her eyes.

It’s not until they’re home, after the twins have been put to bed and the adults are gathered for a proper catch-up that the reaction is addressed. 

“ So ,” Satine starts, locking her attention onto Obi-Wan, “ you go by ‘Ben’ now, I hear .”

Obi-Wan clears his throat and taps out uncomfortable as subtly as he can. “I do. I’ve always been rather fond of the name, and it’s common enough.”

Satine’s eyes do something Ahsoka doesn’t recognize, “ That is why I suggested it, all those years ago .”

Anakin chokes on his drink and is ignored by all.

“Yes, well...” Obi-Wan’s cheeks start to turn red, “Being on the run once again, I thought it would be fairly fitting.”

“ It suits you .”

“As does your name—Jeneth Kazuko: Blessed Child of Peace.”

“ Well ,” Satine swirls her drink before taking a sip, “ I couldn’t very well use the nickname you gave me .”

“No,” Obi-Wan chuckles, “I suppose not.”

There are exactly four seconds of expectant silence.

“...What was the name?”

“Anakin—”

“C’mon Obi-Wan, you can’t just leave us hanging like that!”

“Anakin! It—”

“ It was ‘Sarad ’,” Satine’s mouth curves in a way that reminds Ahsoka of the look Padme gets before leaving Anakin with two hyper children, “ which means ‘Flower in Bloom’. Master Jinn, I believe, took ‘Joseph’ as his moniker, although if memory serves it was self-assigned. ”

Rex’s shock is palpable, and Anakin’s heavy inhale turns into coughing too loud to be subtle. Both Satine and Obi-Wan are completely red in the face, although Padme smiles and pats Satine’s knee.

(Ahsoka flicks her lekku at Anakin, too nervous to ask the question out loud. He answers with the clear thought of I’ll tell you later , which isn’t overly helpful)

“In fairness,” Obi-Wan taps defensive on his glass, “‘Sarad’ was the first Mando’a word I learned. It seemed fitting that I bestow the name on the one who taught me.”

“ A logical path, and one that served us well .”

“Indeed. I recall it getting us out of a fair share of troublesome situations.”

Satine nods, “ That it did, although the situations it caused were not always less troublesome. ”

“But much more entertaining,” Obi-Wan smiles, “for Qui-Gon, if no one else.”

“ Yes ,” Satine breathes what Ahsoka thinks is a laugh, “ Master Jinn did seem to enjoy that particular kind of trouble. ”

She’s ready to burst with curiosity, the desire to know more almost overcoming the awkwardness of asking, when Luke appears in the doorway.

“Papa?” he calls, rubbing one eye, “I can’t sleep. Can you come metidate with me?”

“Sure, Sunlight,” Anakin kisses Padme before walking over and gathering his son into his arms, “Is Starshine up too?”

Luke’s response is lost in the bustle of noise as the rest of the adults say goodnight. Ahsoka pads silently to the twins' room, brushing against her bond with Anakin and waiting the few minutes it takes for Luke to fall back asleep.

He guides her to her own quarters before answering her earlier question, which is initially confusing. At least, until she has to quench a scream upon learning why Satine definitely couldn’t use Obi-Wan’s nickname.

Why Satine would ever teach Obi-Wan a romantic pet name is a question Ahsoka isn’t sure she wants an answer to.

Satine occupies a...unique role in Ahsoka’s life.

On the one hand, they’re in similar positions. They’re both only somewhat recognizable—Ahsoka was never a prominent figure in the War Propaganda and Satine wasn’t popular here on Alderaan—so they’re often part of the team doing the more public work. It also means Ahsoka tends to be assigned together with her. Additionally, Anakin involves the entire Skywalker clan in setting up a “proper courtship” between Obi-Wan and Satine, and naturally, she ends up involved in that too. Anakin insists on getting them together before Satine is sent off-world, for reasons Ahsoka doesn’t even try to decipher.

(“But only if they want it, Ani.”

“Angel, anyone with eyes can see that they’re still crazy about each other.”

“Be that as it may, not everything can be solved by your meddling.”

“Not with that attitude it can't!”)

On the other hand, Ahsoka hasn’t had to read new humans in a half-decade. So she’s a little bit out of practice, and Satine is...

Bail and Breha are hard, but Padme acts as a kind of ‘alarm bell’ for their emotions. Ahsoka reverse engineers their expressions and mannerisms from how her friend reacts to them, and it’s slow but doable. She does the same thing with Cody and Rex. 

Initially, Ahsoka was going to use Obi-Wan as her point of reference. They seemed to have the most history, so it would be a strategic move except that Obi-Wan’s responses are always...unusual. 

One second they’ll be arguing, the next they’re civil. And not like Anakin and Padme do, where Anakin will suddenly blaze in the Force and Padme will meet him head-on until both their fire is spent and they realize they were just tired or stressed or spending too much time cooped up together. Those fights are explosive and can have a long period of de-escalation, but always end in a sincere apology and a gentleness Ahsoka isn’t entirely sure how to describe.

Obi-Wan and Satine seem to...aggravate each other intentionally. Provoking each other passively, then passive-aggressively, and then actually aggressively. They’ll scowl at each other, but Obi-Wan always seeps playful/normalcy/comfort while it happens, and Satine always has the same look on her face, one that Anakin roughly translates as being mischievous/cheerful/enjoyable. The next minute, without any kind of cooldown, Obi-Wan is pulling out her chair and asking about her day. Or Satine will gesture to the nearest seat and ask about his day.

It’s bizarre, and Ahsoka doesn’t know what to make of it.

If all that wasn’t enough, Satine has the same kind of unreadable expression that Padme has where all the emotion drains away, leaving a neutral, unmoving statue in its place. Except Padme only uses that face when Luke or Leia (or more often both) are in trouble, and the rest of the time she keeps her emotions surface enough to be felt. 

Satine doesn't. Rex has mentioned that most Mandalorians in positions of power are somewhat trained to be resistant to “Force-Tricks”, which apparently includes being able to sense emotions. And Satine keeps that skill at the front line of her brain, letting very little emotion escape unless it’s something very strong and she’s in safe company. 

(Or, Ahsoka learns, when she's with children. Satine always seems to be open with children. It's very sweet but makes Ahsoka wish for the time when she could be mistaken for a youngling)

Which is not the situation they find themselves in currently.

Satine makes the same signal again, lips in a straight line while her eyes alternate between their target and Ahsoka’s face. In response, Ahsoka holds up one finger and swishes her lekku to ask her partner to hold on a second, please . She can’t hear anything, nor can she sense anyone else in their immediate vicinity, so she nods to Satine and moves out. 

These kinds of assignments are always the hardest for Ahsoka—she's more in her element on the front lines, cutting down droids and freeing settlements. But a recon mission, gathering information as discreetly as possible? Anakin hadn’t exactly taught her the art of subtly. Add in a pacifist partner—even one as resourceful as Satine—means that she has to watch both their backs, be extra careful and means she can’t even resort to using violence as anything other than worst-case-scenario self-defence. 

(If Rex were here, or better yet if Anakin would be allowed to go on these kinds of outings, they’d have already been done. But Ahsoka knows better than to question Mothma—if this is how she and Bail say it needs to be done, then this is how it needs to be done. ...Probably)

The routine, at least, is familiar enough. Ahsoka syncs her datapad to the main hub, sneaks through a crack in the security and begins her download. Satine assumes a position that is deliberately casual—making it look like a routine maintenance check instead of a hacking. But the way the human scans the room, eyes alert and hand resting over her hidden deactivator, give away her true purpose.

Or, well, it does to Ahsoka anyway. It’s the only reason she knows that Satine is faking her informal attitude, and not goofing off. Because she’s seen Satine relax, and it’s normally much louder than this.

(Satine is very similar to Anakin, as it turns out. Loud, passionate and opinionated. Ahsoka likes to joke with Obi-Wan that he attracts vibrant people like moths to a flame.)

“ Ashla ,” Satine’s voice reaches her with half the download left, “ I believe something is amiss ”

Ahsoka pauses, squinting at the datapad. ‘Something is amiss’ could mean several things: it could mean that something is coming, or that they have the wrong room, or something unrelated to the mission is on her mind. The true message is in the tone, and Ahsoka can’t ask directly, because there’s always the possibility they’re being listened to.

“Yes, my Lady?” she says instead, channelling curiosity/duty/eagerness into her lekku and tone. 

“ I don’t believe it’s an urgent matter but perhaps we could begin finishing sooner rather than later ”

This, she understands. Someone is coming, but if it’s not urgent then they will likely have enough time to finish the download. 

“Understood, Lady Kazuk—”

“Hey! What are you doing here?!”

Ahsoka curses under her breath in Togruti, something hopefully pitched that neither the Being or the droids behind her will detect it. So much for "not urgent"

“ Currently my servant is completing a routine maintenance check .”

“Like hell you are!” the Being takes a heavy few steps towards her, and a rough human-feeling hand yanks her around, “no dirty kriffing alien shutta is gonna so much as breathe on my machine!”

Her datapad clatters loudly on the ground as Ahsoka lets herself be thrown violently to the side. She manages to catch her head before her montrals hit the ground, although she lands somewhat awkwardly on her left lek. It doesn’t hurt compared to the things she endured on the front lines, but there's still a second of white-hot pain that rings in her head.

(Just like his words. She’ll deny it to her dying day, but hearing other species talk about her like she’s less than worthless just because she’s not human does hurt. It hadn’t really, before, back with it was just the occasional sleemo making an offhanded comment. The Empire’s new ‘pro-human’ legislation makes the vitriol easier to see and harder.)

(When she gets her stab at Sidious—after Padme and Obi-Wan, but before Anakin finishes him off—she’s going to show him exactly how equal “other-than-human” Beings are)

“Excuse you, sir!” Satine explodes with fury/wrath/power , “My servant is providing you a service, one that you yourself cannot do! You have no right to treat her this way!”

“I’ll treat her however the hell I want!”

“You will treat her with respect, or so help me, I can shut this entire operation down so quickly it will never be picked up again! And I will make absolutely certain Grand Moff Borwatl knows exactly who was responsible for the many failures I foresee arising in this facility!”

Ahsoka starts to crawl back towards her datapad, and sneaks a look at the commotion happening. Satine has her ‘Senator face’ on, unsurprisingly, and despite her clenched fists her face retains its pale complexion. Her back is lightsaber straight, eyes locked onto the sputtering man cowering in front of her.

If looks could kill, that man would have died two weeks ago. 

“How you treat my staff directly translates to how you treat me,” her voice is lower now, calmer but so frigid Ahsoka has to suppress a shiver, “so if you do not want to disrespect me, and by extension the collective intellect of the Empire, you will apologize immediately!”

“I—I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the man falls into a deep bow, “I meant no offence, truly! Please don’t—”

“Not to me,” the corners of Satine’s lips twitch upwards for a half-second when she interrupts, “you will kindly apologize to my servant.”

“What?! No! that’s too much, how dar—”

One blonde eyebrow lifts pointedly upwards. 

The man turns to Ahsoka, bows not as deeply, and mumbles something that is only an apology because her enhanced hearing can pick it up. 

Satine doesn’t have that ability, so she takes a step closer to the man. Ahsoka (still sitting shocked on the floor) has to blink away the image of Padme scolding a very sullen Luke.

“Excuse me?”

The man grimaces, lets loose a low snarl, and bows again. “I apologize for any disrespect.”

“And...?” Satine prods.

“...And—and I ask for your forgiveness.”

Ahsoka nods, gathers up her datapad, and hurries to stand at her partner’s side.

It’s like a switch has gone off, Satine is back to her regular self, emotionless in the Force and in her body.

(It gives Ahsoka whiplash)

“ Much better. You know, I think my initial assessment was incorrect. Operations here are quite functional, and an asset to the Empire. Don’t you think so, Ahsla?” 

“Yes, my lady.”

“ Wonderful. Then we will be on our way. Thank you for your time. ”

They walk briskly to the waiting shuttle, and Ahsoka makes her way to the cockpit. R2D2 beeps at her as she sits.

“What kind of amateur do you think I am?” she responds playfully, “Course we got it, and with barely any confrontation too.”

A high-pitched beep and a whistle.

“Just some schulag xenophobe. I’m alright, and so is Satine.”

Several angry clicks.

“I’m sure you would have. Next time, I’ll take you so you can taser ‘em.”

R2 whistles happily, while she inputs the controls. She listens to him ramble creatively about how bored he was, and how stupid some humans are, while she guides the ship into hyperspace. 

“ R2 ,” Satine’s voice startles her, “ Would you be able to put the ship on auto-pilot, please? I’m afraid I’m in need of Ahsoka’s assistance. ”

“Uh...” Ahsoka hesitates to translate, “he says he will on the condition that it’s not too long. He doesn’t want to be bored again, apparently.”

“ I wouldn’t dream of it .”

Having received R2’s permission, Ahsoka follows the elder human to the main area.

“So, what can I help you with?”

“ To start ,” Satine pulls a med-kit out of the wall and retrieves an ice pack, “ you could put that on your arm before that bruise gets worse. ”

Sure enough, there’s a hand-shaped bruise forming just below her shoulder. She’d noticed it, but hadn’t really thought much of it—occupational hazard, and all that. It’s so minor that she hesitates to accept the ice pack, flicking her lekku in appreciative dismissal.

Satine, apparently, misinterprets her lack of response, “ We’re fresh out of bacta patches, unfortunately, but I assure you this will work almost as well. ”

“...Thanks,” Ahsoka takes the ice pack, stripes darkening in embarrassment, “although it’s just a minor bruise—I’d rather not waste supplies.”

“Nonsense!” there’s a flash of indignation/headstrong/care from Satine before blankness comes back, “ If it’s needed, it’s not a waste. We’ll simply remind Bail to stock his shuttles before the next mission. Besides, what will your family think if I return you home with untreated injuries ?”

Ahsoka smiles, flicks amusement/appreciation/acceptance with her right lek, and straps the ice pack on. She wavers for a second, embarrassed to voice her thoughts, but the Force pulls at her so she follows it. “And thanks for, you know, what you did back there.”

The same anger/disgust/disbelief from their confrontation blinks into existence for a moment, “That piece of shab deserved a good deal worse than a talking to!”

“Well,” Ahsoka laughs, “we are going to demolish his outpost.”

“ And it will be immensely satisfying. ” Satine puts a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder, and her eyebrows come together slightly in the middle, “ Besides the bruise, are you alright ?”

Ahsoka shrugs the shoulder Satine isn’t holding, “Yeah, it happens.”

Satine’s eyebrows move closer together and her mouth twitches downwards (which is Human for concern , Ahsoka remembers). “Are you sure, my dear? You seemed quite surprised despite my warning.”

“Ah, well... I figured since it wasn’t urgent...”

“I see,” her face changes slightly, and Ahsoka isn’t entirely sure what that means. From the contact, it’s a little bit easier to sense the realization from Satine. “And the words, you’re truly not bothered by them?”

“Not anymore,” her lekku brush against Satine’s arm when she flicks them, “it helps to have someone stick up for me. Not to mention the look on his face when you made him apologize!”

The responding smile splits the human's face nearly in half, “Yes, it was gratifying to watch him humble himself. But, Ahsoka, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“...Yeah?”

“You are worth more than an entire planet full of those monsters, and I will do my best to make sure you are never subjected to something like that again.”

Ahsoka’s stripes warm as they darken further, reacting to the sincerity/assurance/determination pouring out of the woman in front of her. She almost drops the ice pack to try and rub the emotions out of her lekku, but R2 beeps through her communicator and all but commands her back to the cockpit. 

“That’s our cue for time, it seems,” Satine pulls her hand back, and her emotions with it, “I think I’ll lay down for a bit. If I’m not awake when we pull out of hyperspace...”

“I’ll come get you.”

They exchange nods and part ways.

The Force pulls at her again, so Ahsoka calls out before her partner is entirely out of sight, “Satine?”

The blonde stops, half turning around.

“If anyone ever says anything like that about you, I’ll find a pacifist-friendly way of dealing with them.”

Satine’s true, genuine laugh echoes in the ship’s interior.

(Ahsoka smiles the whole way home.)

Chapter Text

 Most people assume Leia takes after her mother.

And Ahsoka sees it, in a way. Or at the very least, she understands where they’d get that impression. They—supposedly—look alike, but other than hair colour and dress-sense...Ahsoka’s not sure. There are stronger, more telling similarities that Ahsoka counts at a higher value.

Leia absolutely takes after her mother in regards to her words. She'd learnt to command the attention of a room almost as soon as she learnt to speak. The young human holds her head high, her shoulders back, and demands to be taken seriously. She crafts her words quickly and carefully—sharp when they need to be and gentle otherwise. 

That said...when asked, Ahsoka always says that the young girl takes after her father.

Leia inherits Padme’s pattern of conduct, yes, but she gets Anakin’s demeanour. 

Father and daughter are like droids of the same programming. Leia fights her battles to win and never knows how to back down. She sees the world in stark black-and-white, with little to no shades of grey.  When confronted with something she feels is wrong, she attacks it with extreme prejudice, doing the dirty work herself to be sure it’s “done right”. She’ll design a meticulous plan of action (something Anakin does but pretends he doesn’t for reasons unknown) and trample anything in her way. For Father and Daughter, it’s their plan or no plan until the bitter end.

It’s almost a scary combination: Anakin’s brash style with Padme’s cutting vocabulary. Almost, because Leia’s goal is first-and-foremost to make the galaxy a better place. 

The twins are both enrolled at the local school just before their seventh life-day. They’re a little bit late, entering in what would normally be the third year of school for children their age, but the delay is necessary. It takes that long to figure out if it’s possible to keep them out of the compulsory, Imperial-taught system.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Ani,” Padme’s signature is full of frustration/fear/tolerance, “but...this is the best we can do.”

Anakin growls, but Ahsoka can hear how defeated/desperate/uneasy he is, “I still think we can keep teaching them at home!”

“It’s for their future,” Ahsoka puts a hand on her friend’s knee and pushes soothing/understanding/apprehension at him, “We don’t know how long it’s going to take to overthrow Sidious, and we need to make sure they’ll be able to thrive no matter how long it takes, and that means getting them citizenship and formal education.”

“I know I know, but—”

“Ani,” Padme’s ‘Senator Face’ makes an appearance, “you have to be able to let them go.”

Something private passes between the couple, and Ahsoka doesn't try to interpret the silent conversation. Instead, she goes back to double-checking the fake records they’ve created for the twins, painstakingly going over the serial numbers to make sure they won’t raise any flags in the system. 

“...But...” Anakin’s eyes go large, and he puts his head down to look at his wife through his eyelashes, “we can send them to the half-day program, right? Use the rest of the day to un-teach them whatever propaganda they’ve been fed... and all that?”

Padme laughs, the air around her immediately becoming Light, “Put the puppy-dog-eyes away, you scoundrel! Of course we’re doing half-days!”

Luke and Leia depart for school every morning hand-in-hand, whispering “The Rules” to each other, absolutely shining with duty/excitement/protection . They’re so excited to learn and explore, and it warms Ahsoka right to the tip of her lekku. They come home equally animated, sharing what they’ve learned “tattling” on their teachers for “saying dumb things.”

(They spread rumours in the schoolyard about Jedi bravery and Imperial Cowardice. Anakin tells her about how he overhears them one day rehearsing their tales and practicing excuses in case a teacher overhears. They consider themselves the ‘youngest rebels in the Empire’, and take their self-imposed ‘mission to tell the real truth’ very seriously. It’s not the life anyone wanted for them, but they’re all very proud.)

Leia makes friends quickly, her words and confidence attractive to even the other younglings. 

She makes enemies just as quickly. 

When Ahsoka greets them at midday, she expects the same bouncing joy/energy she’s seen every weekday for the last month. Instead an unusually quiet ( guilty/hurt/proud) Luke crawls into the speeder, followed by an equally still ( defiant/hurt/unashamed) Leia. At first, Ahsoka assumes it was just a bad day—the novelty of school was going to wear off eventually, after all. Then Leia hands her a slip of paper and looks the Togruta in the eyes.

Ahsoka’s been through enough battles to know what the precursor of a black eye looks like, although only rarely has she seen it on a face so small. 

She doesn’t take them directly home, driving instead to the field a few blocks away and parking the speeder. Taking a deep breath, she reinforces her shields, centers herself, and projects as much peace/gentleness/neutrality as she can muster. Then she opens the door, takes both twins by the hand, and leads them to a secluded spot of greenery.

(She sees how Leia watches her brother and glares at anyone who so much as looks at the trio. She also sees how Luke keeps close to his sister, moving to squeeze himself in between his female companions. It gives her an idea of what must have happened, but she keeps her assumptions to herself.)

“So,” she starts when they’re settled, “how was school?”

Leia pipes up immediately, “Luke’s having a Quiet Day. It started right when we got to school, ‘cause today was Loud”

Ahsoka nods, flicking her lekku in understanding. 

“Which part was loud?”

Luke looks around slowly, and Ahsoka feels him reach out into the Force cautiously. She has to resist a smile—she knows that Luke prefers to communicate through his sister on his “Quiet Days”, and a sudden wave of pride brightens her stripes to see him check his surroundings before he does so. When he spots some of the other patrons not too far away, he scowls and begins to sign his answer. 

“Everything. Ms.Talista, and the guards...and my clothes,” he removes his outer jacket and tosses the blue uniform to the ground with a scowl, “were itchy today, and that was loud too.”

Leia nods, “And Ms. Talista wouldn’t let him use his language! They kept trying to make him talk!”

Ahsoka barely manages to keep the anger/annoyance/helplessness out of her lekku, “That sounds like a lot, I’m very sorry you had to deal with all of that. What happened after?”

“Nothing,” Luke shrugs.

“We were fine until snack,” Leia radiates exasperation, bumping her brother with her shoulder, “and then Crymoh took Luke’s snack, and said he had to talk to get it back.”

“Oh? And what did you do then?”

“I didn’t ask her to—!”

“—I told Crymoh to give it back,” Leia interrupts, a hint of apology peaks through her otherwise challenging aura,  “and he didn’t. So I asked him again, but made sure to say please ‘cause I figured maybe I forgot the first time or he didn’t hear me, but he still didn’t give it back. Then, I asked him again but told him he was being very mean and it wasn’t a good ‘flection on his person to do that.”

(Ahsoka has to bite back another smile, and makes a mental note to let Obi-Wan know his lessons on confrontation are taking root with at least one Skywalker.)

“And he...he said,” Leia balls her hands into fists, her whole body shaking. 

Luke scoots closer to his sister, putting his hands on hers.

“He said that Luke doesn’t d‘serve snacks, cause he’s too dumb. And that he was a mistake, which is why Mama and Papa had to hide us away till now.”

Leia looks Ahsoka right in the eyes as she speaks, fire roaring behind her brown irises. Ahsoka has to fight to keep herself at peace in the face of such raw emotion. 

“She didn’t hit him first,” Luke signs confidently, “she told Ms. Talista, and Ms. Talista said to ‘deal with it herself, instead of tattling’.”

“So I did.” Leia lifts her chin, “I told Crymoth that if he ever said anything bad about my family, he’d better think twice! Then I hit him as hard as I could in the nose.”

“There was blood everywhere!” Luke is suddenly much more animated, “Crymoth fell down, and Donovan ran to get Ms. Talista. Then Siljon tried to punch Leia, only she dodged it. Except then, when Crymoth got up he hit her in the head.”

“And Ms. Talista said that Mama and Papa have to come meet with her and Mr. and Mrs. Parhusb,” Leia starts to fiddle with the grass, “to ‘scuss what happened.”

“Ah,” Ahsoka tries to channel her inner Initiate-leader, even as her stripes alternately lighten and darken at the story, “and how do you feel about that?”

Leia looks at Luke, exchanges a smile with her twin, and then looks back at Ahsoka.

“I feel proud. Papa always says to look out for each other, cause family is the most m’portant thing we have. And I looked out for Luke, just like family should. I’ll do it again, even if I have to forever!”

It’s like a flash grenade has gone off in the park—one second she’s sitting with the twins, and the next it’s Anakin sitting before her, desperation/horror/determination emanating from his every breath. 

“I was going to do it,” he’d whispered as they sat on the cramped, dingy ship—their first moment alone since leaving Coruscant. 

(They were both supposed to be sleeping, giving their overtaxed minds and bodies the break they so desperately needed. Padme had all but ordered them to rest, and Kix had threatened to sedate them. Instead they’d sat on the floor, pretending to meditate but really just breathing —making sure the other was still there. They’d huddled together in a corner, shoulders and hips touching like the contact would keep them alive. It could almost have been one of their regular post-defeat moments, except for the way Anakin trembled, and how Ahsoka’s blood felt thick from fear. The way both their senses were stretched as far as they could safely reach, keeping ever-vigilant awareness over the ship and its passengers.)

(It could have been a normal mission-gone-wrong, except that Haunted/Empty/Betrayed poured from Anakin’s side of the bond, the river of GUILT flowing faster as he spoke.)

“I would have joined him if it would have saved them. I’m glad I didn’t but...” she remembers the way his eyes had shifted, blue irises bright and powerful, “if there hadn’t been another choice? I’d have done it. I’d still do it if I had to.

I’d devote myself to the darkness forever if it kept them safe.”

She blinks to clear her vision, and exhales the leftover grief/fear/love the memory stirs up and leans forwards. Gently, she puts her hand over Leia’s almost-swollen-shut eye and focuses on blocking the pain. She can’t heal it—not without blowing their carefully crafted cover—but she doesn’t think the young girl should suffer for doing what she thought was right. Luke and Leia both smile at her, eagerly describing their plans for the afternoon, and she makes sure to project her pride/approval/support as they travel home.

If she gets them ice cream while Anakin and Padme are out, it’s their secret.

(After all, Family does have to stick together.)

Ahsoka knows something is wrong when Leia knocks. 

Neither twin knocks on the door to her quarters unless there’s something they need to say and can’t tell their parents. They both know that her door is always open—even when she’s not around Ahsoka keeps it unlocked for them. There’s been more than one occasion where she’ll walk into the small room to see Luke or Leia sitting on the bed, doing their homework or (rarely) meditating. Oftentimes, they just come to spend time with her, to be in the company of someone familiar and not busy. Sometimes Anakin or Padme is also in her room, pulling some prank or trying to canoodle her into taking part in whatever crazy scheme they’ve come up with. 

(Kind of like she used to do with Obi-Wan, whenever they occupied the same space.)

(...Still does with Obi-Wan, occasionally.)

So when Leia knocks on the door instead of just typing in the access code, shielded as best as a nine-year-old can, Ahsoka is worried. She’s less worried when Leia walks in injury-free, dual braids hanging loosely past her shoulders. 

“Auntie ‘Soka? May I ask you a question? And you have to promise to be honest with me.”

Ahsoka’s lekku flick with acceptance/sincerity as she scoots to the side and pats the space beside her on the mattress. Leia responds with a smile and moves her braids to swing the way Ahsoka taught her meant ‘ gratitude’ .

(Leia had, about a year ago, separated the twists and sways of Ahsoka’s lekku from the feelings in the Force that normally accompanied them. She’d been confused and amazed, so Ahsoka told the young human about the Togruta language and its emphasis on lekku-signs. Leia had, in turn, decided to keep her hair in braids so that she could mimic the signs as much as she could. Ahsoka’s stripes still glow when she thinks about it.)

“What’s on your mind, Skylady?”

Beside her, Leia takes several deep breaths. She undoes and redoes one of her braids, mouth twisting in an expression Ahsoka knows means deeply thinking. When Leia gathers her words and speaks, Ahsoka is centred enough to not be taken by surprise.

“How come we didn’t help the slaves while we were on Tatooine?” the young voice isn’t accusatory, not really. The confusion/hurt/anger leaking past her shields are very accusatory, but Ahsoka’s proud of Leia’s progress towards diplomacy. 

Still...Ahsoka has to blink several times before the information fully processes, “What makes you think that?”

Leia huffs, “I don’t remember helping anyone, and neither does Luke. And don’t say we were too young,” she points her braids inwards and narrows her eyes, “because we weren’t! I remember lots about Tatooine, and so does Luke. One of us would definitely remember if some random Being was in our house hiding out from slavers!”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Ahsoka puts a little soothing/willingness into her words, “and I’d tell you even if you were too young to remember. But let’s back up for a moment—take me down the path that led you to this question.”

“At school this morning we were talking about ‘ the duty of servanthood’, and how everyone has a responsibility to give the Empire their best blah, blah, blah,” Leia wraps the Force around one of Ahsoka’s pillows, floating it slowly towards her outstretched hands as she speaks, “the typical poodoo of our Citizenship class. And Mr. Maxbow said that it was an honour for us to serve the Empire however we could, and that next year we’d be choosing classes that are supposed to point us to our ‘True Calling.”

“Okay,” Ahsoka nods, keeping her voice, lekku and Force signature as open as she can.

Leia hugs the pillow to her chest, “Then he started to talk about how privileged we are to get the opportunity to ‘realize the gift we’ve been given’,” the girl rolls her eyes with a very Anakin-esk scowl, “unlike some other Beings—human and non-human—who have to be forced to serve. So I asked him what he meant, and he said that sometimes there are people who are born... some kinds of people aren’t able to think properly for themselves, so other people have to think for them.”

“Well, that’s a terrible thing to teach.”

“I know!” all of Leia’s frustration/anger/determination explodes into existence around them, “and it’s not even true! 3-PO and R2 both think for themselves, so it’s obvious that all Beings should be able to! And...and he said it like there are Beings who are worth more than others, and it made me so angry I almost got up and screamed right in his face!”

Ahsoka opens her arms, and catches Leia when she crashes into her chest. She tries to pour as much understanding/calming/validation into the air as she can, knowing that whatever Leia doesn’t catch through the Force she’ll feel in the twitching lekku she’s leaning against. 

(In her Montrals, Ahsoka hears Luke’s breath hitch from the other side of the door. She tries to project an added element of safety/care for him)

“I looked it up when we got home,” Leia whispers between angry/frustrated sobs, “and I figured out that ‘thinking for Beings’ is pretty much the same as slavery. But I couldn’t find a place for where slavery was still a thing, so I asked 3-PO.”

“And he told you that there was lots of it on Tatooine, right?”

Leia leans back and nods, “Yeah. And he told us about the Underground Hyper-lane, and how they help people escape slavery. Except neither me or Luke could remember anyone ever doing anything about it, but...how could we not?! How are we better than the Empire if we sat around and didn’t help people who needed it?!”

The brown eyes looking up at her are so full of feelings , sparkling ferociously as they meet Ahsoka’s blue ones. It’s not hard to wipe the tears away, nor is it hard for Ahsoka to tell the full truth—not when she sees how much genuine need is in the young girl.

“We helped, Leia. As much as we could while keeping you, your family, and the former slaves safe.”

“But—”

“You wouldn’t remember us bringing anyone home because we never did,” Ahsoka interrupts, trying to be as gentle as possible, “it was too dangerous and we didn’t have the resources to be an official stop at the Underground Hyper-lane. But there’s more to helping than being a safe-house.”

Curiosity threads its way past the confusion/indignation around them, “There is?”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka smiles, her stripes softening, “There is.”

Leia wipes her cheeks and waves her braids around to show her eagerness, “So what did we do?”

“Mostly we scouted, when Rex and I went out to market we’d try and see who we could help. There’s a whole other language and a set of coded Basic the slaves use to talk about Freedom, and we’d use that to make plans.”

“Really?”

“Ya-huh,” Ahsoka leans forward and lets her lekku twitch with mischief, “Uncle Kix would make the trip to ‘check up on’ them, and give them...well...whatever they needed to escape,” she stops herself before she goes too far into detail, not knowing what Leia had discovered about the reality of Outer-Rim slavery. No need to scare her by revealing how they temporarily disabled the explosive chips if she didn’t know explosive chips were even a problem. 

“Then we’d comm your Uncle Cody a date, time, and place. He’d pick them up and be ready with a new identity and a team of medics to transport them to wherever was safest.”

“Wow,” Leia breathes, tears forgotten, “Did Mom and Dad help too?”

“Course! Your Dad taught us the language—he knew it from when he grew up on Tatooine,” she also carefully glosses over why Anakin had needed to learn the secret slave language, “and he taught us what to look for. Your Mom helped Bail and Cody create the right kind of paperwork, and made a cruiser-load of blankets and sweaters to send with them.”

“...Blankets and—oh!” Leia’s eyes go wide, “Because it’s so cold before you get used to not having two suns!”

“Exactly.”

“But then, how did you not get caught?”

“We had to be extremely careful,” Ahsoka pushes gravity/perilous/difficult into her words, “everything was always done a few days or weeks apart. We used distractions and the Force to hide, and used more disguises than I could ever count.”

Leia’s aura shifts further, until her Force-signature and posture both show the awe/attentiveness/relief she feels, “And...it worked?”

“Absolutely,” Ahsoka grabs the pale hands in front of her, loosening the fists and running circles along the backs with her thumb, “We helped a lot of people. There’s still more we didn’t get to help,” (the sting of failure doesn’t make it into the room past her shields, but Ahsoka feels it all the same) “but there are entire families that are free to think and act in a way they hadn’t ever before. Uncle Obi-Wan even wrote a book to help them adjust to life in freedom.”

“How many people did we help?”

Ahsoka bites her lip, flicking uncertainty/indistinction/apology with her lekku, “I’m not sure exactly, but your Dad has the exact number, so you can ask him?”

Leia is silent for several seconds, ease a palpable thing in the Force around her. It’s so thick that Ahsoka can pinpoint the exact second it turns into determination .

“Do you think that...I could help? Like you guys did? Would that be...okay?”

Pride/Joy/Encouragement erupts from Ahsoka, “Skylady, I know it would be absolutely wizard.”

The youngling leaps off the bed and bolts out of the room. Ahsoka gives Luke a thumbs up when he peaks through the door as his sister leaves, and holds back a snicker when Leia turns back to grab her brother's hand and drag him to her destination. 

(Padme’s joy/surprise when her daughter asks to learn to knit is so strong that Ahsoka feels it past the focus she's channelling as she spars with Anakin, and he trips when the wave of positivity hits him. Ahsoka absolutely uses his moment of distraction to her advantage, and adamantly denies cheating in any way, shape, or form)

At dinner, Leia proudly presents her very first knitted ‘square’. It’s wonky, full of holes where it shouldn’t have any, and everyone gushes over how well she did. She calls it her “freedom square”, and hangs it up in her room.

“It’ll remind me to keep fighting,” she explains, “for everyone who needs me.”

The twisted string pulses with Light , even from behind its place inside the frame-box. Her first full blanket carries the sense of comfort/safety/dedication and goes to Cody, with instructions to give it to “the next Being you think could use it.” The second blanket sits on the couch in their sitting room, because it was “made for Family.” On her twenty-sixth life-day, a green blanket with yellow stripes finds its way onto Ahsoka’s bed.

She’s never quite sure if the gratitude/love/appreciation that fills her when she lays underneath it comes from her or Leia, but it makes her smile all the same.

Ahsoka would like to believe that she’s hard to surprise. Between the Clone Wars, six years on the run, and another three running active missions for the Official Rebellion, she’s seen it all. 

(Not to mention her misadventures as Padawan to Anakin ‘Trouble-Finds-Me’ Skywalker)

None of her experiences prepare her for Master Yoda and Plo Koon showing up on their doorstep. 

For her part, Ahsoka is floored/relieved/confused . Anakin’s anxiety/surprise/dread, and Obi-Wan’s reassurance/curiosity/readiness mix with her own whirlwind of emotions to create a storm she can’t even begin to classify.  The interest / marvel emanating from Luke and Leia, and the shock/apprehension from Padme float almost outside her awareness, like her heart is too full to accept their feelings on top of everything else. 

There’s a second where the seventeen-year-old Padawan comes to the surface of her brain, adding its input for the first time in nearly a decade and suggesting that she should gather up the loose threads of emotions and offer a detached bow to the Jedi Masters. 

Instead, Ahsoka pounces at Plo and tackles him in a hug. Love/rejoicing/thankfulness pours out of her, and Plo’s gentle rumble in the Force absorbs her aura the same way his tunic is absorbing her tears. 

“It’s wonderful to see you too, little ‘Soka.”

Most of the rest of the afternoon is a blur, as they catch up on the past decade of separation. A piece of her soul settles when Master Yoda informs her of how successful the evacuation was, how many colonies of Jedi are still alive and in hiding. Padme, Obi-Wan, and Plo go over some of their upcoming plans, ironing out any last flaws. They all mourn the Jedi who were lost, burn a symbolic pyre that isn’t nearly big enough, and give themselves a moment to acknowledge their grief. 

(Ahsoka’s most shocked about her grief for Barriss. She’d have liked to ask the other girl why , to try and understand, to ask how the Jedi could have improved, to make a plan for the future.)

(Most importantly, she’d have liked to look Barriss in the eye when she formally, verbally forgave her)

They’re sitting together for dinner, crowded at the too-small table in the too-small dining room. Luke and Leia are having some kind of silent conversation, their faces twitching occasionally as their thoughts pass between their bond. Ahsoka looks to Padme, flicking her lekku to ask if they should be gently reminded that ‘we don’t Force-Talk at the table’, but Padme shakes her head with a smile. Her eyes drift pointedly from the two younglings to their two guests, and then she goes to ask C-3PO to bring out dessert. 

Ahsoka turns next to Obi-Wan, blinking uncertainty when she catches his eye. His smile feels like a mirror, and it comforts Ahsoka a little to know that she’s not the only one uncomfortable with how Luke and Leia are so openly defying the Jedi Code—everything from their very existence to their blatant attachment to each other is opposite to the ideals Ahsoka associates with the two eldest Jedi. 

Whatever discussion they’re all ignoring comes to an end with Leia’s scowl, and Luke's fingers curling around his sister’s as he locks eyes with Master Yoda. 

“Something to say, have you, young one?” green ear tips twitch, betraying an emotion Ahsoka’s forgotten how to interpret.

Luke nods, “You’re here early.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. The shock/confusion explodes like a bomb in everyone except Master Yoda.

“Hrmm... Change a great many things, your father has. Years in safety, I have had, that I would otherwise not. Years to think, and seek the Will of the Force. Ready, I am, to follow where it leads.”

“...does that mean...?”

Master Yoda’s ears twitch again, “Unsure, I am, of the future. Your father... the Chosen One, he remains. Balance the Force, he will. Your part in this new path...uncertain of it, I am. Wait and see, we must, and follow his leadership, before we proceed.” 

All eyes turn to Anakin. He swallows thickly, eyes darting around the room. 

“Ah, 3-PO,” his gaze lands on the golden droid who’s just barely visible, “perfect timing! I’m really craving that Shuura pudding!”

He floats the dishes across the room to each person, ignoring C-3PO’s sputtering protests. The way he immediately stuffs his mouth is less subtle than blaster fire on a quiet day, and no one really knows what to do.

Until Obi-Wan boldly challenges the Twins to a pudding-paint-off. Their responding enthusiasm/playfulness mix with Padme’s protests and Master Yoda’s so-called encouraging suggestions. The chaos masks the amused/worried/spiralling presence Anakin is still exuding. 

Ahsoka nudges their bond gently, reinforcing the shielding around it so that whatever Anakin responds with is kept securely between them. His answering bump is less a feeling, and more an impression of the shuttle sitting in their hidden garage. Her lekku flick in agreement, and she manages to slip unnoticed out of the room with her former Master. They’re tinkering with the inside of the ship before anyone notices. 

(Ahsoka can pinpoint exactly when their absence is noted because she sees Anakin’s steady hand falter momentarily the way he only does when Obi-Wan is probing their bond. She watches, catching the faint wisps of their telepathic conversation: concern/anxiety/distraction leak just barely out of Anakin, and while she can’t feel what Obi-Wan is projecting in response, she notes how her human companion’s emotions dim. Wordlessly, she hands him the wrench he was reaching for, and goes back to her own mess of wires.)

Times like these...it’s easy to forget all of the sithspit that’s happened to them. Working on some project together in the quiet with the Force humming with contemplation/willingness/companionship around them...Ahsoka can almost believe that they’re in between victories: on their way home and unconcerned with the future. 

(Her Padawan beads brush against her collarbone, hanging around her neck as a reminder of those happier times. For a moment, Skyguy is her Master again, and it’s...right.)

“So,” Anakin begins, keeping his aura light/casual, “I, uh...have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“How would you feel about being Knighted? Before Yoda and Plo leave?”

Ahsoka stifles a swear as a spark nips her fingers, “Come again?!”

“It’s just,” Anakin isn’t looking at her, closing off the way he does when he’s nervous/ashamed and can’t decide if he wants her to know or not, “Yoda is your lineage-head even if the Jedi are technically disbanded, and I know Plo is important to you so I figured... it’d be good to do it while we’re all in the same place.”

“Anakin—”

“And the last decade has been more than a worthy trial,” his words speed past, “so it’s not like it’d be underserved! Obi-Wan and I never had a former trial, and you’ve technically been targeted by a Sith Lord and lived so I’m sure Yoda would let it slide. We have everything we need for the ceremony and celebration here, I’m pretty sure, so it’d be an easy set-up”

“Skyguy—”

“I mean, I was really only knighted for the War anyway, and Obi-Wan was knighted ‘cause of me so it’s almost a lineage tradition. You definitely deserve it, probably more than I did at the time... although if you tell Obi-Wan I said that I will be denying it. The point is, you don’t have to worry about not meeting the technical requirements for knighthood. There were heaps of classes and stuff I didn’t finish, and it didn’t matter. Plus—”

“Master!” Ahsoka finally manages, kicking him lightly. Anakin pivots towards her at the honorific, momentarily startled silent.

“Skyguy,” she quietly states, “I...where is this coming from all the sudden?!”

He shrugs again but doesn’t turn away, “It’s not ‘all the sudden’.”

Ahsoka flicks her lekku at him and raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“I’m serious!” Anakin’s cheeks go red, “I’ve been thinking about it since your twentieth life-day, but there hasn’t been a good time to bring it up...”

Her lekku curl, but she doesn’t verbally call him out. She’s long since learned that “ waiting for a good time” is code for “I was too scared to do it.” But she’s also learned how unhelpful it tends to be to point it out.

(For Anakin, anyway. Obi-Wan is a totally separate story)

Instead, Ahsoka quietly blinks, schooling her face into the expression she uses when either Twin tries to lie to her. 

As always, it doesn’t take long for Anakin to explain his thoughts.

“I mean...Ahsoka, you’ve been through so much! Everything with the war, then the Republic falling and being on the run... You deserve to be knighted—you deserve to have been knighted years ago! It’s not fair that you’re achieving this milestone late just because I’ve been too preoccupied to suggest it.”

Abandoning her wires, Ahsoka scoots to sit beside her former Master. She leans her head on his shoulder, shifting her lek to fall in her own lap instead of his. Pulsing calm/understanding, she exhales once and tries to match his false casualty, “Well...there are two problems I find with that logic.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm.”

“You gonna share with the class?”

Ahsoka laughs, “Well for starters, I would have been knighted terribly early at twenty.”

“What!?” Anakin's shock/disbelief rockets through her, “No you wouldn’tve! Most knights I knew were knighted in their early twenties—I was only considered ‘early’ because I started late!”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka rolls her eyes and flicks her back lek at him. “And most knights you knew became padawans at...”

“I dunno? Like...eleven? Twelve?”

“And I was?”

“Based on your height and attitude? Probably about six-and-a-half.”

“Ha-ha,” the elbow she jabs into his ribs doesn't disrupt his laughter, “I was fourteen and you know it! But I was considered early by Togruta standards ‘cause our youngling-adolescent stage is slower than yours, and if my math is right, I was closer to ten Human years.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Anakin’s countenance turns soft/fond/nostalgic , “Master Ti gave me this whole lecture on remembering that you were younger than you looked, and sent over like fifty holopads just to make sure I didn’t permanently mess you up. Obi-Wan drew me a timeline of milestones. It was impressive.”

It’s Ahsoka’s turn to laugh, “I'd have loved to see that.”

“No you wouldn't,” she can hear his smirk, “It had a section called ‘reproductive awakening’ that was entirely meant so that I could give you ‘The Talk’...”

“Anyway!” Ahsoka ignores the disgust/surprise/embarrassment that leaks past her shields along with the non-subtle snort Anakin makes, “You can put your guilt in storage: You have always been an excellent Teacher, but I was an early padawan and I didn’t particularly want to be an early knight. If things were...like before, I’d have been knighted around now.”

“Fair,” Anakin hums, “so then what’s your second argument?”

Ahsoka has to take a deep breath, has to count to ten in Togruti and Basic. Her lekku give her emotions away, she has no doubt the man beside her knows that the trembling means “ I’m not sure I want to say this”. 

She can’t quite manage to string the words together right in her head—everything sounds judgemental/accusatory/dismissive —so Ahsoka goes around the topic.

“You know, Leia and I had the most fascinating talk yesterday.”

“Snips...” Anakin warns.

(Sometimes she forgets... he knows her avoidance tactics just as well as she knows his)

“What? You don’t wanna hear about it?”

Anakin rolls his eyes but flicks his hand forward for her to continue.

“She was asking about the Jedi,” Ahsoka exhales again through pursed lips, “Specifically, she was asking about what ‘being a padawan’ actually means.”

“...Oh.” Anakin’s shields are at full strength now, and without looking at him it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking.

Ahsoka continues anyway, “And I...didn’t know what to say. I mean, I didn’t have the most...typical padawanhood.”

“Sorr—”

“Nu-uh, no way Skyguy!” Ahsoka lifts her head up to look Anakin in the eyes, pushing at their connection until he lets her in, “Not your fault, and I wouldn’t have preferred being a ‘normal’ padawan. I was honoured to be your student, and I still am!

“The thing is, Anakin, Leia...To answer her questions, I had to think about what the Order was, and who the Jedi were. And I realized,” Ahsoka turns the words she’s about to say over in her mouth, tasting them to be sure they’re not too bitter, “I don’t...want to be knighted.”

It’s not clear which one of them explodes with Confusion/Offense/Guilt, but the negativity folds over them heavily. They withdraw from each other at the same time, fortifying their shields and reconnecting with apology/embarrassment. 

(She keeps talking partially for his sake, and partially for hers.)

“It has nothing to do with you, or your teaching! It’s just that...When I finished answering her questions...I realized that I don’t...I wasn’t...Barriss had a kind of point about the Order and the War. She shouldn’t have killed those people and she shouldn’t have framed me for it—” 

Anakin’s mouth snaps shut audibly.

“—but she made some good points. The Jedi of the past died long before the fall of the Republic, and I don’t want to be knighted into an Order that doesn’t allow all of...this!” she gestures around them, and even though they’re still huddled together in the bowels of their ship, she knows that he understands what this is. 

Beside her, Anakin is disturbingly silent.

“All my life, I was told that this kind of life would lead to Darkness. But now that I’m living it? All I can sense is Light. Light around you, around Obi-Wan, around the Twins...and the light is so different from what was at the temple. Not brighter but...”

“More vibrant and colourful,” he suggests.

“Exactly! I don’t want to go back to the Order of before, and if that means I stay a 'padawan' then...so be it.”

Anakin twirls a wrench slowly through the air, and Ahsoka doesn’t try to read his expression. There are curtains over the window of their bond, and she knows they’re cracked open (the way they’ve been ever since they first solidified their connection) but she doesn't dare peek into them. What she’s said could easily be a rejection of him as well as the Order—he was a gear in that machine after all. 

She’s almost sick with worry about his reaction but doesn’t bother offering any apologies. She’s proud of what she said, even if the truth isn’t as gentle as pretending would have been.

“So,” Anakin replies at last, “I take it my secondary question of ‘do you want to take either Twin as a padawan’ is a moot point?” 

Ahsoka has to laugh at the acceptance/understanding/banter he pushes her way, “Even if it wasn’t, I think that shuttle has left the station.”

“Huh?”

“Luke isn’t ready yet—”

“I know that,” Anakin elbows her in the ribs, “and I’m not about to force him into an apprenticeship until he wants it. I mostly meant Leia.”

“Obi-Wan already asked her,” Ahsoka rolls her eyes, getting casually to her feet. She hasn’t taken more than a step before there’s a human hand around her wrist.

“What did she say?!” Desperation/curiosity/excitement bleeds from his face and his presence. 

“She managed to convince him to co-teach her so that she can also do the senatorial apprenticeship Bail offered her,” Ahsoka turns her arm so that she can grab her friend by the wrist and hoist him up. They walk back to their family together, and Ahsoka nudges Anakin playfully as they walk.

“Came up with a brilliant argument about ‘the skills of negotiation being fundamental to the Jedi’, and I swear Obi-Wan was almost in tears.”

Anakin’s laugh is full of Pride/Satisfaction/Respect, “That’s my girl!”

Chapter Text

It’s easy to see Luke’s resemblance to his father. 

Even the casual passerby can tell—Anakin’s consistently getting comments and compliments about how his son takes after him. Obi-Wan in particular is notorious for slipping up, calling Luke by his father's name and—vice versa—when either is being especially reckless. 

Ahsoka sees it...in a way. 

Luke is energy personified—luminescent in the Force and animated in everything he does. He tends to leap first and look later, much to the delight of his more mischievous-minded sister. It isn’t uncommon for Leia to get an idea, and Luke to execute it...no matter how bantha-brained the scheme. The young boy is almost continually “on” until he’s completely “off”; Ahsoka’s lost count of the times she’s found him fast asleep in his chair reading, or with a screwdriver in hand and pieces of model ships scattered around. 

In some ways, it’s like having a smaller version of her former Master running around.

But for all their similarities, Luke takes much more after his mother. Because while Leia may be the more well-spoken and future-minded of the twins, Luke inherits Padme’s disposition. 

He tends to be more composed than his sister, causing most people to assume he’s calmer. But Ahsoka knows better than to assume passivity is the same as calm . Like his mother before him, Luke will simmer under the surface, keeping his thoughts to himself until the most deadly moment. Even as a baby he would keep his feelings close to his chest, projecting them on his terms. Not that he’s closed off or cold: simply waiting until he knows his thoughts will be best received. 

(In fact, it’s impossible to say that Luke is cold or closed off at all: he has the friendliest personality Ahsoka’s ever seen. The child will, and often does, go up to strangers just to offer them a flower, or a silent smile, or just to say hello. It’s endearingly frustrating—they’re always having to chase after him when he wanders too far, but no one can ever really punish him for his acts of kindness)

Ahsoka’s seen Padme leap into the heart of a dangerous situation more times than she can count, but she knows the human woman is always prepared. Luke, it seems, has inherited that calculated impulsivity: choosing a course of action immediately, and working every angle until they’ve accomplished their goals. When one idea fails, they’re ready with a backup plan, and a backup for their backup plan.

So really she shouldn’t be surprised that she’s hunting Luke through their modest apartment, stretching her senses for any sound that could be the six-and-a-half-year-old. Her lekku twist with anxiety/apprehension despite how the Force is free of any danger/fear/caution . He hasn’t been gone long, not enough time to worry about kidnappers and Imperialists. She’d think he’s napping except for the buzz in her mind where his presence normally sits, a gap in the Force that makes sensing him almost impossible. 

She should have suspected something was amiss as soon as the boy had declined to go with his sister and parents to run errands. Luke views everything as an adventure and staying home while the others get to go out and experience the world is normally reserved as a punishment. 

But...he’d been quieter than normal this past week, and while Kix—along with a very vocal Leia—assured them nothing was wrong, they’d mostly assumed that he was coming down with some kind of illness. Having him stay home and rest seemed the most logical course of action at the time.

Ahsoka lets her lekku curse when her hindsight kicks in and the pieces fall into place: Luke has some kind of mission in mind and wants to have free reign to do it. His ‘quietness’ of the last few days has most likely been plotting, and he’s probably been waiting for this kind of alone time.

He never backs down from what he believes is right, nor does he shy away from doing the dirty work himself. 

She has to bite her tongue to keep another curse in when she realizes the reason he’s vanished from her radar at this exact moment. The twins had learned to hide their presence in the Force the same way that children in the creche did: by playing hide-and-seek. Unfortunately, their raw strength in the Force tended to turn ‘hide’ into ‘disappear completely’. It wasn’t something the Temple would have encouraged, but for a family in hiding, it was a blessing. As they grew older, they'd honed the skill until they could vanish from the Force-awareness of anyone... except their opposite sibling. Typically, finding one was simply a matter of asking (or bribing) the other. 

Knowing this, Luke had probably been waiting for a time when Leia wasn’t around to tattle on his whereabouts. 

( Pride/Frustration swirls around inside her as she searches. On the one hand, Ahsoka’s been teaching them about intentionally hiding their Force-presence since they first came to Alderaan and she’s remarkably proud with how well Luke seems to have been listening. On the other hand, finding a light as brilliantly bright in the Force as Luke is would be much easier if he hadn’t been paying as much attention to her.)

Luckily, their home isn’t overly large. She’s only searched a few rooms before a distinct sound reverberates off her montrals: small footsteps in a rapid pitter-patter coming ever closer. 

She meets him halfway, putting a soft cushion of Force in between them to keep the child from running headfirst into her waist. “In a hurry, Skylad?”

Luke nods, pulling his coat closer around him.

“Why’s that?”

The part of her mind where Luke’s presence normally rests sparks back to life and the air around him contorts to rush/important/secret .

(It’s always amazed her how Clear Luke is in the Force. Like controlling it is in his nature, impossible to separate from his very being. At this age, Ahsoka couldn't project this clearly unless an instructor helped her during structured meditation. Luke does it as easily as breathing.)

Ahsoka kneels to his level, flicking her lekku to say ‘ you can trust me , “You on a mission?”

“Mhm.”

“What is it?”

Luke swivels his head to survey the hallway, turns around the check behind him and then leans to the side to check behind her . When he’s satisfied that they won’t be overheard, he leans in. 

“Leia was sad,” he whispers, “and I don’t want her to be.”

Ahsoka nods slowly, “Okay.”

“And Mama got a letter once.”

“Yes, she did.”

“It made her happy.”

The lights start to turn on in Ahsoka’s head, “Yes it did, I’m proud of you for noticing that.”

Luke’s smile is blinding for a moment, and then his stoic/grave/determined face returns, “So that’s my mission.”

“Your mission,” Ahsoka enunciates slowly, “is to see your Mama’s letter?”

“No!” the air is frustrated/impatient around them, “I want Leia to be happy, and Mama’s letter made her happy, so I’m gonna write a letter to Leia!”

(For a split second, Ahsoka loses focus. Her thoughts drift briefly to the faded orange blanket folded at the foot of her bed. She remembers mentioning to Padme once—exactly once, because she’d been embarrassed at the time—that she sometimes missed the turu-grass of Shilli. That as a child she would hide in the soft grass because she trusted the colours to keep her safe, and that she occasionally craved that kind of security. She imagines when Padme discovered how scared and broken she was after her trial and near excommunication, the human woman wore the same determined expression that Luke is fixing Ahsoka with now.)

“Ah. And why are you sneaking around to do that?”

“Cause it’s a secret,” Luke opens his coat to reveal a slightly crumpled piece of blue flimsy with various wiggles drawn on, “I drawed us in our Tat-een room and our Here room, and I wanna say ‘you’re the bestest sister every-place’ on it. Only I need help cause I don’t know how to write all that.”

Ahsoka’s stripes turn fluorescent, “That’s very sweet, Luke.”

“Auntie ‘Soka, there’s no time to be sweet! We gotta move, move, move!” 

Luke doesn’t appreciate her fit of laughter, but he certainly appreciates it when she shows him how to make a flimsy-envelope to put his letter in. Rex walks in on them glueing everything together and is somehow roped into pretending to “check the mail” when the other members of clan Skywalker arrive.

(Which is an impressive feat because they don’t have a mailbox and Rex hates acting, even for the twins. If she didn’t know better, Ahsoka would swear Luke had used a mind-trick to make that miracle happen.)

Anakin and Padme are, of course, suspicious when Rex shiftily constructs a story about a mail-being delivering an incredibly important, top-level flimsy correspondence, but Leia is none the wiser. 

“You do-ed this?!” the girl demands as Padme helps her read the note, emotions turbulent but positive as she spins around to face her brother, “You forgot your name at the bottom!”

Luke shrugs.

“‘Course I knowed it’s from you, I’m the only sister you have!”

Another shrug, but the air around the young boy takes on a nervous/insecure/happy tint.

Leia tackles her brother in a hug, “You’re the bestest brother every-place too, Luke!”

(At that moment, it’s impossible to say which member of the Skywalker-Clan is happiest.)

As a family, they’ve prepared for a lot. 

They have contingency plans for every scenario remotely plausible, from the mundane to the absurd. If someone recognizes Anakin on the street, they’re ready. If Sidious disguises himself as a clown to come to the life-day party of one of Luke and Leia’s friends and abducts one or both of the twins, they’ve got a plan for that. 

(Luckily, or perhaps by the will of the Force, they’re not recognized as often as they’d been worried about. Additionally, Luke and Leia take pride in reporting that no clowns have tried to lure them into a speeder.)

But they couldn’t be prepared for everything.

Luke had only just returned, Master Yoda harrumphing some private instruction and giving the young human a thump to the ankle with his gimmer stick—something Ahsoka remembers as a gesture of affection—some odd hours ago. Ahsoka had felt him reach for his sister instinctively, and felt how quickly he’d pulled his presence back when his prodding went unanswered.

(Leia is still on her trip with Obi-Wan, travelling through the galaxy on their own version of ‘The Gathering’. Ahsoka’s somewhat envious: her own Gathering had been exciting, of course, but she’d have traded the pressure and hyper-intensity of a clan of younglings for the security of a hyper-lane-trip with a Master. )

It’s been a hard summer season for the Twins, the first they’ve ever spent apart. As excited as they were to begin their training, the undercurrent of uncertainty/anxiety/fear has been impossible to miss. But when the time came, both children had put on their bravest faces, parted with a long, hard hug, and took the first steps in their separate journeys. 

Luke had, just before they’d parted, consoled his sister with the knowledge that they’d get to spend the full next school year together. Leia had smiled and promised they’d have at least one class together, even if they had to take something neither of them liked. 

Ahsoka has to kick herself and then kick herself again as a reminder that she couldn’t have known the future. It wasn’t foolish to allow them the hope and comfort in that moment, as much as hindsight plagues her with guilt. 

Honestly, she’s not sure how they hadn’t prepared for this. 

She’s not caught totally off guard though. War has groomed her for many situations, and calming a sulking Skywalker is high on that list. So when Luke storms off after breakfast, throwing his shock/disbelief/resentment into the air around them, she waves off Master Yoda’s offer to bring him back. The Elder Being hesitates, and she can sense he’s about to argue, but Anakin says “She’s got this, Master Yoda. You can take the second shift” and that’s all there is to it.

(The plan goes unspoken between her and her former Master. Right now, Luke doesn’t need to be told to let his emotions go, or that his anger is 'the path to the dark side’. Right now, Luke isn’t a Jedi-Padawan in need of a lesson, he’s a ten-year-old boy who needs a listening, non-judgemental ear.)

(Or montral, as the case may be)

Ahsoka could track him through the Force, his signature is bright and familiar enough for her to find and follow even if he wasn’t bleeding pain/confusion/anger . But she knows that Luke, like his father, probably needs some space to process before he’s ready to talk. So Ahsoka doesn’t rush her search. 

It’s hardly a real hunt; it’s not hard to imagine where her favourite nephew has gone.

It’s common knowledge in the Skywalker/Kenobi/Tano household that if you can’t find Luke, go to the highest possible place. The boy has a knack for finding them, slipping away and sitting silently with his thoughts and feelings while the rest of the galaxy rushes on. 

“There’s a freedom, a...clarity that happens when things are just...up high,” he’d attempted to explain, “with my feet off the ground everything else seems so far away and...manageable.”

So even though she’s intentionally taking her time, it’s not long before she’s sitting down next to the fuming boy, looking out over their hidden garage from the top of the shuttle she and Anakin have just finished repairing. 

Over the three years she spent with Anakin in a confined space, Ahsoka’s discovered the best way to get her human companion to talk. When his temper flared or his emotions became too much, all she had to do was plop herself at his side, lean her head on his shoulder, and project as much companionship/security/attentiveness through their bond as she could. In the beginning, he would resist, trying to keep up the facade of the Unshakable Chosen One (and, she thinks, trying to imitate Obi-Wan) but he’d always cave eventually. 

Luke is too small to rest her head on, but when Ahsoka hugs him into her side he melts into her easily. 

(Sulking Skywalkers, of any generation, are her specialty)

It’s quiet for a few more moments, the air around them shifts as Luke works up the courage/determination to share what’s bothering him. Ahsoka knows exactly when to brace because the tension snaps like a cord just before the words leave his mouth. 

“I didn’t get into the school.”

“Hm?”

Luke's hands clench and unclench in his lap, “The school that Leia got into. I didn’t pass the exam to get in.”

Understanding hits Ahsoka like blaster fire, “Oh...oh Luke, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, but his aura twists darkly, “I didn’t wanna go to politics school anyway, it sounded like a lot of talking and bossing people around, which is...well it’s whatever.” Another shrug, “The school I’m getting sent to is a good one too. It’s the civilian academy for pilots, engineers and soldiers. There’s an acrobatics class that looks pretty wizard.”

“But you won’t be with your sister,” Ahsoka rubs her thumb over his shoulder softly.

“...We were supposed to have one class together,” his anxiety/disappointment/frustration sings in her awareness, “we promised. I was gonna get her to take a language class with me, so we could talk in code around the house. It...it was gonna be so fun, and now...”

They sit in silence a little longer, Ahsoka continuing to rub small circles on Luke’s shoulder. She keeps her desire to pry into his emotions in check, consciously pulling behind her shields instead of examining the boy beside her. 

“Auntie ‘Soka,” comes the whisper eventually, “why am I so bad at...people?”

Years of training (and living with Anakin’s moods) are the only thing that keeps her lekku from curling violently at the weakness/hatred that darkens the Force briefly. Then she processes the question and lets out a questioning trill. “What do you mean?”

Luke grabs her hand, tracing the scars and calluses as he explains, “You know how Leia makes friends so easily?  And keeps them? She can talk to people and they just...” He closes his fingers in hers. 

Ahsoka squeezes their joined hands.

“Leia doesn’t even like people half the time! But it’s like she talks to them and they just get her, and she gets them. Why can’t I do that?”

The bright blue eyes that finally meet hers are watery, and it breaks Ahsoka’s heart. She goes to respond, lekku twisting in sympathy, but Luke’s voice rushes out.

“Half of the friends I have are because Leia feeds me their intentions through the Force, and I know we’re not supposed to but we’re really careful! And it helps cause I can’t tell otherwise and I don’t know why! Like sometimes they smile but they’re not happy, and they laugh but it’s not kind? And I always think it’s kind-laughing but then Leia tells me it’s not so I hang out with her friends and,” he removes his hand from hers, distractedly rubbing his palms from his knees to his ankles, “It’s all so confusing when I’m on my own, ‘cause they’re not consistent even though they should be, and I never know when a laugh is kind or not, or when something’s a joke or not, and I always end up saying the wrong thing!

"That's why I didn't get into the school," he sniffs, "'cause I failed the diplomacy and social skills tests. Leia's really good at those and she doesn't even care, so how come I fail when I care so much?!"

Ahsoka pulls him in, hugging him to her chest and trilling softly. “Oh, Luke...”

He doesn’t seem to hear her, “And what about my Quiet Days? Or when things get too loud or bright or... What ‘m I gonna do in a new school where I’m by m’self and I don’t have her to help me? And who’s gonna keep her calm when people try to make her mad, and who’s gonna remind her that they’re only upset cause she’s right and they’re not, and—””

“Hey,” Ahsoka pulls away slightly, tapping the top of his head until Luke meets her eyes, “we’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

“But how?!”

Ahsoka thinks back to the beginning of her apprenticeship—memories of newly-formed bonds, fledgling codes, and games of sabbac colliding in her mind. She can feel her lekku lighten as the plan comes together, and she pours as much of that understanding/hope/reassurance / LOVE into the space around them.

“Trust me Skylad, I have a plan.”

It’s a unique challenge to teach something she barely knows, but it’s something Ahsoka’s more than willing to attempt. Several strategies come to mind, all taken from her own lessons in emotional expression. But codes won’t help Luke at a school where he knows no one, and he’s losing his emotional-awareness-conduit, so neither of those options are available.

...She doesn’t teach Luke sabbac, because he doesn’t have time to learn that way. Plus, a gambling game isn’t something a ten-year-old should know.

(The twins can wait until they’re twelve, just like she did.)

There’s some trial and error to find a workable solution, but maybe a week after they start planning, Ahsoka figures it out. Ever so often, she takes Luke for “outings”, just the two of them. They go to the local vendors' market, the park, and anywhere else people tend to gather. She teaches him to find the general aura of the area, to touch the emotions in the air without examining them. Then she shows him how to pinpoint specific emotions, and helps him lock onto a target. They sit together, eating whatever treat they’ve purchased for the occasion, and watch the people. Luke will point out a person and say what he thinks they’re feeling, unsure but determined to learn. Ahsoka will either confirm or gently redirect his guess, and then point out what they’re doing.

(“See how tense their shoulders are? You can tell because they’re almost touching their ears.” “Did you see how he was rubbing his neck while he laughed? Sometimes humans and near-humans do that when they’re nervous.” “Oh! That lady all hunched over? She looks scared, but do you see her mouth? She’s actually hiding a smile, so you’re right: she’s probably very happy!)

Luke, she knows, hates every moment of it. His hands twitch and he holds his breath for the first few minutes, Too-Much/Loud/Uncomfortable escaping his shields. In these moments, Ahsoka makes sure to project her own emotions—not the ones she wants to feel, but the anxiety/overwhelmed/hesitance she still feels around people she’s unfamiliar with. They relax together, safe in the knowledge that they’re not alone in their struggles. 

Her student hates it, but he goes with her every time. He never truly complains, except when his fear/shame boils over and he starts doubting himself. Ahsoka lets Yoda and Anakin reach through to him those times, the former teaching him to release the unhelpful emotions and the latter explaining how to keep them from hurting as much. 

When Leia and Obi-Wan return, Luke all but demands to take his sister on the next outing so that he can show off what he’s learned. 

(Leia is impressed with her brother's skill, until she learns the reason behind his unconventional lessons. She manages to send a very passionate message to the school-selection committee detailing exactly why their test had failed her brother, instead of the other way around. Padme and Anakin are both equal parts proud/aghast , but Ahsoka hears Obi-Wan congratulate his newest padawan, and helps her write a follow-up message detailing the accommodations that Luke should be provided.)

The entire clan comes together to get the Twins ready for their new adventure. Encrypted emergency comms and tracking devices join the typical supplies of holopads and new cloaks. Both twins are gifted, to their immense delight, a Padawan Bracelet, given in place of the traditional—recognizable—braid and woven from a material that will help disguise their intense Force Signatures. 

Each child gets a special gift as well. For Leia, it’s a new title. Bail presents her with paperwork officially declaring her as his government protege, which claims her as family. 

“Not to replace the family you have, of course,” he explains when her face gives her confusion/hesitation away, “but to give you some extra leverage at school. Your records will bear my name and family symbol, which means that anyone who tries to discredit you won’t be able to do so based on your past. They’ll have to face your arguments as they are, and come to conclusions based on your convictions.”

“You mean, they’ll have to recognize that I’m right.”

Bail laughs, “Yes, exactly.”

Luke’s gift comes from Rex, Kix, Jessie and Cody. The brothers gift him a holopad, wrapped in 501st blue, that contains all the common markers for human and near-human expression.

“Give us a list of the other common species at your school,” Rex promises, “and we’ll add ‘em in.”

Luke bounces, relief/surprise/awe brightening the room as he hugs each identical Being.

“Thank you, Thank You, THANK YOU!”

“Trust us kid,” Kix snorts, “it was way easier than what we did for Cadet back in the day.”

“Yeah,” Jessie elbows Luke and whispers loudly, pointing directly at Ahsoka, “she was a real piece-a-work. Had to involve the whole company just to set her straight”

“Hey!”

(The day before the new school year, both twins are noticeably clingy. Ahsoka goes to check on them the night before, just to make sure they’re ready, and finds Anakin and Padme standing in the doorway. They shift to let her see into the room, and the sight of what the children have done has her wishing for a holo-cam. The beds are pushed almost together, a single blanket tied so that it creates a canopy between them. Inside the makeshift tent are two small bodies, surrounded by pillows, tangled up in each other more than the blanket that cocoons them.)

Leia leaves in the morning first, getting into the shuttle with Padme and promising to come back with the skills to make the galaxy a better place. When it’s his turn to leave, Luke is pale and trembling. Ahsoka cools her lekku, bringing some lightness back into the darkened stripes, and gives him a solid hug. 

“Remember Skylad,” she whispers, pouring support/compassion/encouragement into the words, “Being different isn’t worse, and it’s not better. It’s not lesser or more. Different is just Different, and anyone who says otherwise is a bantha-brain. You can do this, and we’re all behind you.”

Her young charge nods, determination swelling over the steady stream of fear he’s been projecting, and Ahsoka knows that even if he doesn’t believe it yet, he soon will.

Chapter Text

The beginning of the end starts the way things often do: with the sudden reappearance of a familiar face. Of course, Ahsoka hadn’t taken the mission because she knew it would trigger the Fall Of The Empire. It just kind of...ended up that way. 

She’d taken the mission because there were so few Rebels who understood Shyriiwook, and she was near-fluent. Plus, it was a stealth-based solo mission that required a non-human operative. Padme and Anakin were both on home holiday, the twins were occupied with school, and Rex, Obi-Wan and Cody were all planet-side, so she wouldn’t have to worry about leaving for who knows how long. It was a perfect time—and the perfect mission—so she couldn’t exactly turn the opportunity down! After all, the Rebellion needed her!

(And maybe she was a little bit bored. There’d been a bit of wanderlust tugging at her, a tiny seed of longing for action. But those reasons were...less important.)

Honestly, it’d been as much of a shock for Ahsoka to see Chewbacca again as it was for him to see her. It was less shocking to see that the Wookie was protecting yet another vulnerable teenager, but the snarky human did complicate the mission a little bit. It wasn’t too troubling—nothing at all like the chaos that used to happen during The War— but it certainly made for an interesting conversation when she arrived at her Base. 

Young Han Solo had, however, made himself right at home as a Rebel. Despite his cavalier attitude and many, many sarcastic comments, he was quickly recognized as a competent pilot and an invaluable asset. He and Chewie easily became two of their most valuable operatives for mid-rim and outer-rim information. 

But the information they gathered wasn’t their most valuable contribution to the Beginning of the End.

Luke and Leia had accompanied their respective Masters on a trip to one of the planet-side bases and come home with pleas that their “new friend Han” come over for dinner immediately. 

In the blink of an eye, the Wookie-Human duo became a regular fixture in their home. Luke eagerly shows off his collection of model speeders and ships, while Leia is delighted to add Shyriiwook to her repertoire of languages. And, of course, Luke enjoys Chewie’s steadfastness/loyalty in the Force, his willingness to listen and his solid hugs. Leia enjoys verbally sparring with Han, radiating challenge/entertainment/satisfaction despite how often their spats end with her in a huff. 

(Sometimes the sarcastic teasing grates on Ahsoka, not that she’ll ever admit it. Surely she hadn’t been this childish as a teen??)

(Then again, Anakin had branded her “Snips” hours into her first day as his Padawan)

(...)

(...Force, she owes him an apology...)

Ahsoka’s not entirely sure if she can pinpoint the exact moment the Force begins to sing a different tune about the future, but she knows it’s because of the three youngest rebels.

Nothing lasts forever. 

And Ahsoka hadn’t expected it to: she'd always known that their cover couldn’t last, that the Empire would find them eventually, that living on Alderaan increased their chances of being discovered. 

But she’d always pictured it would be Anakin, or Obi-Wan, or even herself being correctly identified by some soldier. Maybe even captured on duty. Her Clone brothers could blend in, disguise themselves and disappear. The few Clones who were on the Empire’s-Most-Wanted list were expected to be in the bodies of old men—with the Imps unaware that the Rebellion had engineered a fix for the rapid-ageing they were created with. In her darkest moments, Ahsoka had even entertained the idea of Padme being recognized. It was unlikely, given that “Senator Amidala” has been legally, officially dead for over a decade, but it wasn’t an impossibility. 

(The Twins were, ironically, the only ones she’d felt were safe. How could they be discovered when no one knew they existed?)

So it wasn’t that Ahsoka had expected a life of safety, or that she hadn’t entertained (planned for) the inevitable moment when their life took a turn for the worse. 

She just hadn’t thought it would go down like this . 

There’s a sound like the roaring of a waterfall, like blaster fire all around her and the static of a lost comm signal as she watches the hologram again. Leia’s translucent face is steady/solid , perfectly casual to anyone who doesn’t know better. But Ahsoka sees how she bites her lip between sentences, the way her eyes dart away to keep watch on something no one else can see. She’s nervous/scared/determined and Ahsoka can almost feel it despite the distance separating them. 

“Uncle Ben,” her niece whispers, “something...not good has happened. I couldn’t get in contact with Uncle Bail but...”

Ahsoka watches as Leia cringes, looks over her shoulder, and turns back. The holo-device doesn't pick up on whatever she heard, but Leia's reaction reveals it can't be anything good.

“I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have been snooping but...well I found something, something that...it’s bad. It’s really bad. I downloaded it to R2, deleted the file, and I managed to put one of our viruses on the system to make sure they can’t get it back. R2 helped me with that part too.” 

The human smiles, but her eyes don’t crinkle the way Ahsoka knows they should. 

“You have to make sure Uncle Bail sees what R2 has. It’s Important! Make Dad look at it too, but the...club that Uncle Bail helps run needs to see it first. I don’t think—” someone yells angrily off-screen, and Leia’s smile falls. Her voice speeds up, her words coming out harsh and strangled, “They have sensors that check for life-forms entering and exiting the Starship, so I can’t leave. But R2 can. He’s going to make it back to you guys, and you’re going to come to get me. I know it. But you have to do this first. Hurry Uncle Ben, you’re my only hope.”

The visual blinks out. Ahsoka feels the room close in around her. 

Beside her, Padme breathes in a shaky breath. Anakin sits heavily onto the floor. Obi-Wan runs his hand over his face slowly.

The room reeks of despair/regret/FEAR.

It was supposed to be a simple school trip. An outing to Coruscant so that the up-and-coming diplomats and politicians could see the capital and experience politics on a large scale. Leia had begged for weeks to go, had promised not to use the Force for anything and to keep her head down. 

They’d only agreed because Bail was on Coruscant, and he’d be able to keep an eye on her when she arrived and because the teacher allowed her to take R2 with her under the guise that Bail had left him behind. R2, who would be able to alert them from the ship’s control room if something went wrong. 

R2, who was beeping sadly on their living room floor. 

It was supposed to be a simple trip. So simple that the family had taken a brief vacation from the house, staying at the Organa's lake home for a few days. It helped take everyone's mind off of their missing member, and Luke was happy to have some unique stories to trade with his sister upon her return. Only Obi-Wan had stayed behind, in case of emergency. 

This is more than an emergency.

It’s a nightmare . 

(Distantly, through their bond, Ahsoka can feel Anakin’s rage/panic/desperation . R2’s explanation of the events—finding the plans for a superweapon, not being able to contact anyone beyond the ship, getting caught by familiar-faced soldiers, Leia commanding him to “go home and get help”— is even more distant. Nothing quite reaches past the roar in her montrals.)

Someone asks “What are we going to do?” but Ahsoka isn’t sure who it is. 

Anakin nearly explodes at the voice, a painful shock in her mind. It grounds her momentarily, enough for her to notice a pale-faced, teary-eyed Luke standing in the doorway with his schoolbag still around his shoulders. 

How long has he been standing there? She hadn’t heard—or felt—him come in. 

Padme goes to placate him, kneels to his level and pulls him into a hug. She tells him she understands his worry, but that they’re going to fix it. The boy nods twice, does an about-face and walks away. There is a quiet moment as they all watch him disappear down the hallway.

Then they’re fighting about the plan. About who will go. Obi-Wan says it’s his responsibility, as her Master. Anakin claims the same responsibility as her father. Padme argues that she’s the least recognizable. Ahsoka...she can’t speak, her grief too overwhelming to parse through. Her stripes are burning and heavy, and she can see that they’re passing into navy blue. Her back lek swishes aggressively across her shoulders. She’ll go with whoever, she’ll go alone, it doesn’t matter so long as they go soon because if they discover who Leia is...

The arguing stops and Ahsoka realizes she’s said her opinion out loud. It’s tense, like the air is heavy and toxic.

(She can feel Anakin biting his tongue, both their shields are so shattered by desperation that his thoughts of “I shouldn’t have let her go”, “I knew this was a bad idea.”, and “Why didn’t she listen to me” float through as easily as if they were her own.)

It takes her a minute, but she purposefully pushes cool/soothing/strength into the room, running a hand down one lek to help steady her own emotions. 

“We can’t help her like this,” she reasons aloud, “we need our heads on straight.”

Obi-Wan nods, tapping gratefulness into his newly-grown beard as he adds his stream of peace/planning/security to the atmosphere, “Well said Ahsoka.”

Padme’s exhale exudes unsteady/confident as she pulls her shoulders back and wipes the tears from her eyes, “We haven’t lost her yet, there’s still time.”

Anakin’s aura is dangerous. Almost Dark. His hatred/fear/loss pulses in her mind like a living thing. Ahsoka wraps her light around it and holds her hand out to the human on the floor in front of her. His eyes are lifeless when they meet hers, and it silences the words that were on her lips. 

She lets her lekku communicate instead. “ I promised I’d keep them safe,” they say, “ and I will keep that promise .”

Anakin takes her hand, the darkness around him present but no longer all-consuming, and hoists himself up. “Alright,” he commands, “let's do this.”

They split up to cover all the options. Padme and Obi-Wan start to hunt down Bail—Leia may have reached him, the authorities who caught her may have taken “Leia Organa” back to Coruscant and handed her over to her apparent namesake. Meanwhile, Ahsoka and Anakin run to their garage, planning to take R2 and go to Leia’s last known location as fast as physically possible.

She doesn’t even notice the missing ship at first. Her brain latches onto the first thing she sees: Han’s Millenium Falcon. Her stripes lighten with gratitude that Luke will have someone to support him during this crisis. 

Then Anakin comes in, swearing about how he can’t find R2, and her brain catches up to reality.

The Falcon is here, but their ship isn’t. R2 is unreachable. She hasn’t seen Han or Chewie anywhere in the house.

Ahsoka feels a tug, the kind she’d occasionally get back at the Temple before a vision. She follows it to the twins’ room, Anakin hot on her heels.

The room is empty. 

She stretches her senses—physical and Force-variety—to scan the house and feels Anakin do the same beside her. She’s in denial, and she knows it. It’s desperation that pushes her senses further and further, looking for anything that will argue against the truth. 

Anakin’s hand points to the door, “Did Luke take his poncho to school today?”

Ahsoka shakes her head and lets out a sorrowful trill. The tan poncho had been Leia’s life-day present to Luke—hand knitted and woven with Leia’s unique aura. It was the boy's favourite article of clothing, and he never took it to school out of fear it would get stolen, lost, or ruined. 

He often wore it when Leia was off on a mission or packed it to go on his own. Padme called it his “surrogate twin”, and for it to be missing now...

(They can’t deny it any longer.)

Master and Padawan connect the dots simultaneously, meeting each other’s eyes before running to hijack the Falcon.

(Luke is a Skywalker , and his family is in danger)

Luke has gone after his sister.

Ahsoka is only partially present at The End.

Chewie sends their coordinates attached to a message explaining that he hadn’t realized this rescue mission was “unsanctioned”.

Droids and armed guards are waiting for them when they land. For a moment she’s 14 again, cutting down clankers and incapacitating organics on a mission-gone-sideways. Anakin looks at her out of the corner of his eye, mouth twitching, and she knows he’s debating whether or not to comment on the return of her reverse grip.

(He doesn’t. The situation is too dire, and—for once—neither of them are in the mood for teasing.)

First, they try to find the kids by Force Signature: both Luke and Leia’s auras have been branded in their minds, and neither should be shielded so deeply they can’t be found. As expected, two familiar lights blink into her awareness briefly. 

Briefly.

As soon as they appear, they’re smothered in darkness the likes of which she’s never experienced—darker than Barris during their duel, more poisonous than Ventress at the height of her hatred. Its fear made tangible, tendrils of shadows trying to crawl down her throat like Geonosian Brain-Worms. It’s hundreds of Jedi cut down by those closest to them, Brothers stripped of their free will, billions of Beings learning to tolerate whatever tortures are thrust upon them because it’s easier to be complacent.

It’s the chaos/fear of more than a decade of tyranny given form and exploding in her mind, wrapping itself around her and sapping her of strength to try and preserve itself.

Anakin places a steadying hand on her shoulder (his flesh one, she knows) and anchors her in his Light. It wraps over her protectively, making the shadow flicker around her. 

(She almost asks why he’s not as affected, but they’re moving again before she can form the question. It’s not until after, when she’s had time to reflect, that she realizes he’s fought this specific darkness before.)

Finding Leia isn’t overly hard: most of these kinds of ships have a standard layout, and halfway down the third hallway Ahsoka hears the telltale, familiar sounds of bickering teens. She doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry: knowing that Leia is not so hurt as to be incapable of calling Han a “nerfherder” is almost too much. 

Until they catch up to the group and notice that Luke is missing. 

And Ahsoka...

Ahsoka has been through a lot. She was a child soldier, she’s been captured, tortured, threatened, and framed. She’s held her family close while they died, consoled those without hope, and delivered the killing blow. She’s lived in exile for just over a decade, and seen the worst of what the Galaxy has to offer. 

None of that compares to hearing that Luke ( her Luke ) has been taken away. Chewie warbles (the sound strikes her montrals as mournful) and Han shrivels under Anakin’s glare. Leia turns her tearful ( angry/scared/hurt ) eyes to her guardians and explains that he’d snuck off, had made a distraction so that the others could rescue her and been captured as a result. They were arguing about whether to launch a counter-rescue or retreat and call for help.  

Between heartbeats, Ahsoka makes a choice. 

Early in the Rebellion, when they were still on Tatooine, Ahsoka gave herself the codename “Fulcrum”. It was a throw-away name—she’d been doing a lot of the communications work and Fulcrum was the name of her secret com-line with Anakin. She hadn’t thought about it, just picked a name and called it a day. Anakin had even made fun of her lack of creativity under pressure, but she’s kept the name because it felt...right, somehow. 

In between heartbeats, Ahsoka takes the co-pilot's seat in her brain.

It’s Fulcrum who commands Anakin to find his son. She’s the one who puts her hands on her Brother’s shoulders, turns him around, and pushes him away. Her face is still, stripes dark and serious, senses stretched to keep from being ambushed.

(It’s Ahoska’s lekku that give her away. All three flick and sway, saying “Please come home. Please be safe. Let me see you again.” Fulcrum doesn’t touch these silent pleas, but she doesn’t echo them either.)

Then she picks Leia up, ignoring how the younger girl punches and kicks and demands to be allowed to go with her father (“I can help Auntie, please ”) and leads the remaining party back to the Falcon. Ahsoka cries, but Fulcrum doesn’t respond. She just presses on, putting her niece down only after Han has successfully calmed her down (“Princess, if you don’t shut up every guard on this base is gonna be firin’ at us”) and they’re at the hangar. 

She and the fledgling Jedi-padawan fight their way back to the Falcon, guarding her young human as Chewbacca guards his own. It’s Fulcrum's voice that orders Han and Chewie to fly them out, and Ahsoka is distantly impressed that she’s still speaking in basic.

Fulcrum is the one who checks Leia for injuries, healing the cuts, scrapes and bruises acquired. She praises her niece for her strength, commends her bravery, and scolds her recklessness. Ahsoka had packed meditation beads, and Fulcrum helps the younger padawan calm her rapidly spiking panic/frustration/helplessness as reality catches up to them both. 

Ahsoka isn’t present for The End—Fulcrum takes the lead so that she doesn’t have to be.

They’re not followed, miraculously. She’d expected they would be, but she’s not going to look a gift nerf in the mouth. They haven’t gone far anyway: out of weapon range but close enough to be backup or evac when needed. Fulcrum is willing to temporarily believe that they haven't yet noticed, or that the enemy believes them to be stranded and unthreatening. 

Of course, she suspects the real reason is that the Imperials on the ship are simply...preoccupied.

The battle of Light and Dark has been growing, rising to an intense crescendo ever since they left Anakin. It’s electrifying, the pressure before a thunderstorm, and impossible to ignore. Likely every Force-User in the Galaxy is aware of the long-awaited clash. Fulcrum paces restlessly as she waits on the shore of the coming wave, and debates turning the ship around to sneak back on. 

(Years ago, Ahsoka would have. But she’s been through enough now, knows that sometimes being still is just as important as diving into action.)

She settles for keeping watch over Leia. Days of exhaustion and adrenaline have finally caught up to her niece, who has fallen asleep sitting up and holding the holo-device that responds solely to a frequency used by their family. 

It doesn’t take long for the restless/uneasy/unsettled feeling to return, and the itch to go out and do is on the forefront of her mind. She needs to help, somehow, from where she is. 

She reaches for Anakin.

His side of the bond is quiet, alive but muted by distance. For several moments, it remains stagnant. Just before she retreats, it spikes with darkness/rage/fear , hot as a ‘saber but unfocused. Something she knows instinctively Anakin is not sending intentionally. 

Fulcrum snaps back at the blow to her psyche, and Ahsoka is left grasping at the straws. 

She calls Obi-Wan out of habit, tries to determine whether to lead with the good news or the bad and is no closer to a decision when he picks up on the first ring. 

He ends up choosing for her.

“Is Anakin with you?”

“No, Master... he went after Luke.”

Obi-Wan’s face is blank—truly blank, not “negotiations” blank—which is how she knows he’s afraid, “...He went...alone?”

“I—” Ahsoha’s not sure how to respond, “Yes? Is that a—”

“Ahsoka, you have to go back,” his fingers tap rapidly, highlighting the urgency of his words, “he can’t go there alone!”

“Why—”

“Sidious is there.”

A piece of Ahsoka dies, there and then.

“We found Bail,” Obi-Wan continues, the pattern he’s tapping increasing in speed, “he told us. The plans Leia found are for a planet-destroying superweapon, and when they went missing...”

“Sidious was going to try to go into her mind,” Ahsoka breathes, stripes black and spasming, “to find the Rebels.”

Obi-Wan’s hologram nods, “It’s not a skill his Inquisitors would have.”

“We don’t know that! He could have—”

“Ahsoka,” the tapping stops, “you can feel the tension in the Force.”

She doesn’t respond other than to investigate the dent in the wall beside her. Suddenly, it’s the most fascinating thing in the room.

“...Have you forgotten what Anakin is? Who he is fated to be, destined to do?”

Yes, in fact, she had. Anakin hasn’t been “The Chosen One” in Ahsoka’s mind since her first year as his padawan. Instead, he’s been Skyguy: the goofy, loving, passionate powerhouse of a Big Brother. He’s been a teacher, a general, and a father. A confidant, someone she depends on and supports. He has her back, and she has his. Whatever grand “destiny” he’s had placed on him hasn’t mattered to her in thirteen years.

She doesn’t say any of this to her Grandmaster. She squares her shoulders, turns back to Obi-Wan and flicks her lekku with finality , “He can do this.”

“It’s not that I think him incapable, but—”

“No, Obi-Wan,” she pours all of her determination/belief/HOPE into her words, “This isn’t something we can help him with.”

“The prophecy never said he had to fight alone!”

“Kark the prophecy! Anakin can do this. He’s battled the darkness his whole life, you know that better than I do!” her hands tremble at her sides, and her lekku shake just as violently, “He’s going to be alright, and the best thing we can do to support him is keep...keep his family safe.”

Obi-Wan’s face contorts, and Ahsoka’s vision is swimming too badly for her to make out the specific expression. She scrubs roughly at her eyes, only continuing because of the persistent nudging of the Force, “This is a battle he has to fight, and we...we can’t help him. But he’s going to come back. With Luke. Not because he’s ‘The Chosen One,’ but because he’s Anakin. And...and that’s what he does .”

Whatever Obi-Wan is about to say is cut off as they both collapse, a wave of Energy passing violently through the Force. Through her training bond, Ahsoka feels white-hot power burn through her, like a supernova exploding inside her brain. Obi-Wan’s cry is a distant thing in her montrals, but somehow she registers that he’s feeling the same... whatever it is .

The pain makes her dizzy, but she can see Leia’s sleeping form remains undisturbed. Whatever Anakin is doing, he’s funnelling it away from his children. And Ahsoka will gladly take the pain if it spares the twins, but a part of her wishes that Anakin would put his shields up slightly thicker.

(Obi-Wan’s Pain/Confusion/Worry bleeds into her own emotions directly through Anakin. It’s never happened before, even when the three of them were meditating together unshielded. Her Master has always been a buffer between the three of them, and the thought of him no longer being there is horrifying )

She wakes up on the floor, blinking the spots from her vision. The holo-device is still online, and she can make out one of Obi-Wan’s boots on the feed. There’s no sound of attack, only Padme’s slightly panicked voice asking if he’s alright before the holo shuts off.

Ahsoka is drained, but not entirely empty. She can feel Leia beside her and see the lights representing Han and Chewie in her mind's eye. She knows she won’t be able to reach Luke, not from this distance, but...

Hesitantly, she reaches for Anakin. 

Nothing.

She reaches further...

He springs to life in her mind, his bright aura pulsing with the steady beat of his heart, and a welcoming Light/Safety/Completion that fills her with a comforting warmth. 

She scoots slowly over to Leia, wraps an arm around the still sleeping girl, and allows herself to rest.

Ahsoka doesn’t think they’re okay, she knows they’re safe.

There’s some official story, Bail and Mon Mothma spin the kind of tale that manages to keep the galaxy from spiralling too badly into madness. 

Ahsoka hears it, she knows that she does. But she doesn’t retain it, there isn’t room in her brain for whatever propaganda the public believes. It’s not nearly as important as the immediate aftermath of the truth. 

Luke had sensed Sidious, had felt his presence and reached out instinctively. Sidious had, in turn, reached back and drawn Luke towards him. Anakin had arrived sometime later and fought to protect his son. Neither Anakin nor Luke go into the specifics of their battle with Sidious, other than to say that the Sith was determined to have either Skywalker as an apprentice, and didn’t seem to care which prize he won. Luke quietly reveals that he’d engaged Sidious when it appeared that he was going to electrocute his father, and Anakin confesses to killing the Monster when he’d cut off Luke’s hand in retaliation—managing in a burst of adrenaline, instinct and Power to force the Dark-Lightning back onto the Sith and throw him down the reactor shaft they were battling on. 

No one pushes for a more elaborate explanation. The Force-Sensitives in the area all confirm the Lightness of the Force, and when the colonies of Jedi in hiding report back with the same Lightness, the matter of Sidious's survival is put to rest.

 Only Ahsoka and Obi-Wan are privy to how close Anakin came to Falling, and they’re the only ones who hear of Sidious’s threats and promises to Anakin. Anakin repeats them with haunted eyes and a hollow voice, admitting how tired he was—is—of fighting the shadows in his soul. Obi-Wan breaks into undignified sobbing, startling both younger Jedi, and holds Anakin as though he’s trying to absorb the younger man into himself.

“I am so, unspeakably proud of you, dear one.”

“Didn’t you hear what I—”

“You kept fighting,” Obi-Wan murmurs into Anakin’s hair, sincerity/empathy/comfort seeping into the room, “You kept fighting, and didn’t give in. That’s all I have ever wanted from you, to remain in the light. And you accomplished it where many who haven’t struggled as you have would fail.”

(Padme hovers near both her Boys and Ahsoka sees all the soft, innocent touches she gives her husband as he heals from his physical and emotional injuries. Padme’s tight/relieved/careful smile shows the Togruta that Anakin has shared some of his struggles with her, and another piece of her sanity settles into place)

Luke speaks very little about his ordeal. Ahsoka knows that he has to have told at least Leia because the second she was allowed to see him her niece had launched herself at her twin, demanding to know “what in the FORCE were you thinking” and “what about the RULES; we’re supposed to Look Out For Each Other” and several other questions so loud Ahsoka was forced to leave the room briefly. She’d come back to see both younglings curled under a blanket, the Force around them heavy with intent/communication/understanding.  

(Leia repairs Luke's poncho and knits him a matching hat. Protection/Love mixes with her aura, braided into the strands of yarn. Luke cries when she presents it back to him.)

It’s not until almost a week later that she stumbles upon a more detailed view of his thought process. She’s meditating near where the twins are playing push-ball, floating the ball back-and-forth like crechelings so Luke can get used to feeling the Force through his prosthetic. The air ebbs and flows with electricity, passing between siblings with the ball as the two young humans communicate with each other silently. 

(They’ve been doing that more, Ahsoka knows, since The Incident. Luke claims it’s because he finds signing difficult with artificial fingers, but Ahsoka suspects the connection between them is comforting. Neither of their Masters has challenged it, though they’ve clearly noticed, so Ahsoka certainly isn’t going to be the one to take it away from them.)

“It seemed like a good idea at the time...” Luke’s voice is soft, like he hasn’t quite realized he’s speaking out loud, “I honestly thought—”

“I don’t care how much ‘goodness’ you thought you felt in him,” Leia snaps, “I don’t understand why you tried to...” 

She pushes the ball to her brother and the air twinges with exasperation / annoyance/fear , “You can’t just... go chasing after every speck of Light you sense!”

“Well,” Luke accepts the ball and the emotions, holding them briefly and sending back his own frustration/skepticism/weariness , “why not?”

“Because!”

“Because why?!”

“Because...” Leia stops, and Ahsoka feels her deliberately reign in her turbulent feelings, “because sometimes the Light isn’t really there.”

Curiosity/confusion follows the ball as Luke passes it back, “What do you mean?”

There’s a long exhale, and Ahsoka tries to project peace/patience/calm discreetly into the room. 

“You’re so...Light,” she starts, petitioning/tension/nervousness rippling in the air, “and you see Light everywhere because of it. But that doesn’t mean it’s there—sometimes it just reflects off of people. But it’s not their Light, it’s Your Light that you’re seeing reflected off of them.”

Leia grabs the ball from the air, spinning it in her hands. The young girl’s shoulders shake slightly, but her voice is steady as she continues, “Not everyone deserves to be saved, or forgiven.”

Luke is quiet for several long seconds, but he stretches his presence towards the ball in his sister's hands. She releases her hold on it but rolls in on the ground to Luke. He picks it up, floating it in front of himself and whispers, “You might be right, Ley, but what if they Are? If I don’t check...who will?”

Leia’s countenance darkens, “If you keep trying to bring out the good in everyone, you’re going to get lost, Lu.”

 Luke floats the ball halfway, and his sister’s reluctant/begrudging presence moves to take it. He doesn’t release it, brushing against her aura tenderly.

“How about,” he offers, agreement palpable in the air around them, “I’ll make you a deal?”

“...What kind of deal?”

“Help me to Lighten the galaxy, and I won’t ever get lost without you.”

The atmosphere is heavy as Leia thinks, but it rains acceptance when she smiles.

“I accept your offer, it will be a pleasure adventuring with you.”

(Somehow, Ahsoka knows that she’s going to be chasing after two wayward padawans in the future.)

(Somehow, she can’t bring herself to mind.)

It’s finally over, and Ahsoka can barely breathe. 

It hadn’t really hit her until just now: celebrating with the entire Rebel Alliance, the Brothers who survived the decade, and her family solidifies the completeness in her mind. It’s incredible to be free, the galaxy closer to peace than it’s been for most of her life. 

It’s incredible... but horrifyingly overwhelming. 

Ahsoka’s not stupid, she’d expected to be overwhelmed. After all, she’s never been a Jedi during peacetime, she’s not sure what place this galaxy has for her. Beyond all of that, when Obi-Wan’s teachings remind her to focus on the “Here and Now”, she still feels like she’s out of her depth. 

The noise of so many Being’s around her is deafening after so many years of being more-or-less isolated. The joy/excitement/Freedom that radiates around the room is even more intense. It’s almost like she’s a shiny-padawan again, everything is bright and loud and hard to pin down. 

(Only this time, she’s happy too. She doesn’t doubt her place in this group, isn’t striving to prove that she’s a worthy addition. Some of the exuberance is hers, although that doesn’t make it any less crushing.)

Anakin tugs on her re-attached Padawan beads as he moves beside her, matching her casual pose against the wall, “You hangin’ in there, Snips?”

“Yeah,” she pushed warmth/appreciation/honesty through their bond, “just...loud.”

She feels his hum more than she hears it, and then there’s a familiar buffer around her awareness. Her lekku relax, hanging loosely and comfortably as her surroundings become more manageable. 

“Thanks.”

“Hey, what’re Masters for?”

The duo is silent, watching Han try to arm-wrestle Jessie while Luke and Leia cheer them both on. Rex, Cody, and Tup sit one table over with a small pile of credits in the center. It seems to be a stalemate, which means Jessie is holding back considerably. After maybe seven seconds, Appo ‘casually’ strolls by and kicks Jessie’s chair out from under him. Han whoops his victory while Leia collects the credits from her uncles.

(Anakin and Ahsoka laugh when they catch Leia dividing the spoils into three piles, handing the smaller one to Appo. Rex’s scowl in particular has Ahsoka nearly in hysterics.)

The tail-end of a thought brushes against Ahsoka’s awareness, fuzzy but deliberate. She flicks her lekku questioningly at the human beside her.

“Just..” he answers, “Thank you.”

Her lekku flick again, more forcefully.

“For...Ya know...” Anakin shrugs, “staying. Helping keep us safe. Agreeing to be my padawan again officially. Helping restructure the Order. I don’t know, take your pick.”

Ahsoka smiles but doesn’t verbally reply. Her near-fluorescent lekku are a good enough marker to her thoughts. 

Anakin smiles, mischievous/teasing/playful travelling across their bond, “Actually no, I’m thankful for how you managed to convince Yoda to consider changing the Order and thankful you’ve never used those kinds of negotiation tactics on me.”

“I didn’t think it would work, to be honest.”

“I’m still surprised it did!”

“No, not with Master Yoda,” she smirks, throwing the same teasing/fun/playful feelings at him, “I didn’t think it would work with you! Otherwise, I’d have bartered for way more of those berry-flavoured protein bars.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Obi-Wan joins them, standing opposite Ahsoka and glowing peace/contentment , “Anakin is, unfortunately, immune to persuasion via cold, hard facts.”

“Even more than Master Yoda?!”

“Much more, I’m afraid.”

“Har-dee-har,” Anakin interrupts, his aura bright and fulfilled , “you’re hilarious.”

“Why thank you, my young apprentice. It is good to see you’ve finally humbled yourself enough to admit it after all these years.”

The laugh she lets free at her Master’s over-exaggerated eye roll is lighter than any she’s had in recent years. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Ahsoka sees Padme wave at them from the table where she, Master Yoda, Luke, Leia, Han, and Chewie are already seated. She waves back and tugs the two bickering men along to take their seats. 

From the podium, Mon Mothma congratulates their victory over tyranny and compels them to join in the preparations of a New Republic. She speaks of the horrors of war, the shadows of corruption, and the poisonous lies that led them down the path they’d recently emerged from. She encourages them with the hope of a new dawn where choice, peace, and truth will reign longer than any figurehead. 

Ahsoka listens, but only out of politeness. The Force is clear and Light for the first time in her memory, and she’s surrounded by her family—safe, healthy, and together. 

Soon, Luke and Leia will take their first missions as official Jedi Padawans: the first of the New Order. Padme has plans to go back into public office, Rex is with his brothers again.

Somehow, she knows that Anakin is going to find some kind of trouble to involve the two of them in. She suspects Obi-Wan will have to pull them out, rescuing them with the kind of fond/exasperation he’s perfected.

(Hopefully, he’ll leave Leia behind when he does. If her niece is called on to ‘rescue’ them, they’ll never hear the end of it from either twin.)

And at the end of it all, they’ll return home to Love, Light, and each other. 

Exactly the kind of Victory Ahsoka’s been waiting for.

END