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Chapter Text

For years after the Purge, Ahsoka had no idea if Obi-Wan was still alive. Until one day, Bail Organa pulled her aside and asked her to memorize a set of coordinates on Tatooine, with the understanding that if the Empire captured her, she should die before giving them up. Following them had brought her to a small hut built into a cliff face in the middle of the Jundland Wastes, and the years had not been kind to him. He opened his door with a gaunt face and a beard mostly white, and it was not joy but worry that filled his expression when he recognized her. 

“Ahsoka?” he said, after a long silence. “How?”

That one word held so many different questions, but she settled for answering the one that would put him most at ease. “Bail sent me.”

“He did?” If anything, Obi-Wan only looked more anxious. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Well—” Ahsoka had to amend that statement. You couldn’t say there was nothing wrong, not while the Empire was still standing. “Nothing more than usual. I just… I just wanted to see you, Obi-Wan.”

“Ah.” There was a moment’s silence, and then Ahsoka rushed forward, wrapping him in a ferocious hug. Obi-Wan made a startled noise, but after a few seconds he returned the hug. 

“I had no idea you’d survived,” he said. 

“I had to go underground.”

“So did I.”

They were silent for a long time after that, Ahsoka refusing to be the one that ended the hug. Finally, Obi-Wan stepped away and gestured to the interior of his hut. “Would you like to come in?”

“Of course.” Ahsoka cast an eye around their rocky, desolate surroundings as she stepped over the stoop. “Why Tatooine? Of all the places you could’ve picked…”

“I had my reasons.” Obi-Wan’s expression turned oddly pained. “I’ll make us some tea.”

Ahsoka followed him into a small sitting room. There wasn’t much to see, just some bare furniture and accouterments that didn’t look much different from his room in the Jedi Temple. She recognized a tapestry as Obi-Wan’s weaving, and in one corner a small Mandalorian sigil had been carved into the wall. 

And then, unexpectedly, the Force rippled around her. Something in this room was calling to her. 

She zeroed in on it almost immediately. A small wooden box on a shelf across the room, just big enough to hold—to hold—

She recognized the familiar feeling as she reached for the lid. Obi-Wan, coming out of his kitchen with two clay mugs, froze. “Ahsoka—”

But Ahsoka was opening the lid as his warning tone reached her. She reached in, her fingers closing around cold metal, and she withdrew a very familiar lightsaber hilt. 

Anakin’s. 

Obi-Wan quietly joined her side as she stood there, speechless, only able to think of one reason why he would have this in his possession. 

“No,” she said. “No.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“He can’t be dead. He was the most powerful Jedi in existence.”

“Power is no guarantee of one’s ability to survive,” Obi-Wan said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Ahsoka shook it off, trying to hold back a sob. “But he was Anakin!” She’d joked many times over the years that her master’s unerring ability to find trouble would lead him to an early death, but to actually know that he was… 

Her grip on the saber tightened. “He can’t be.” 

“I was there.”

Ahsoka stiffened. Her entire world seemed to be shrinking to one singular point: the lightsaber in her hand. “You—But you were on Utapau.”

“He survived the initial purge. It was only afterward. I saw him die in front of me.”

“So who killed him—Palpatine?” 

“No. Vader.”

Vader. The name was enough to send a freezing chill up and down Ahsoka’s spine. She’d only heard that name whispered around her, and only seen that dark, unmoving visage in a few Imperial holos. But everyone knew just how dangerous he could be. The Emperor’s right hand seemed more mythological than real sometimes, but the stories of surviving Jedi cut down in seconds, unruly planets holding out against Imperial rule bending to his will in a matter of hours, and conniving Imperial administrators being brutally murdered for trying to undercut his power were all horrifically true. Bail, the only person she knew to have come into contact with Vader, simply described him as ‘malevolence incarnate.’ 

Ahsoka had long considered the possibility that someday, she would have to face him. She’d already killed one inquisitor. She was too powerful to be left to the devices of those two-bit Imperial goons for long. Sooner or later, the Empire would decide to send in real firepower against her. She could only hope she was ready. 

But now, hearing that Vader had cut down Anakin, the best fighter she’d ever known, what hope was there for her? A thought struck her very briefly, that maybe she should just give up and move out to the middle of nowhere, maybe become Obi-Wan’s neighbor and spend the rest of her life watching the sand dunes. She immediately felt ashamed for thinking it, but the thought stuck in her mind, refusing to budge. She shoved the lightsaber back in its box and slammed the lid shut.

“How did you survive Vader?” she asked.

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. The sound of a distant howling wind scraped at Ahsoka’s ears. 

“I wish I knew,” he said finally. The whistling of the teakettle undercut his last words.

Tatooine-type tea, even made by Obi-Wan’s skilled hand, was noxious and bitter, its only apparent benefit being that it could be used to stretch out sparse stores of water. Still, Ahsoka drank it deeply.

“I take it you’ve been working with Bail in the rebellion,” Obi-Wan said after some conversation, rubbing his chin. “I had no idea. He does well to keep his information compartmentalized.”

Ahsoka nodded. Very compartmentalized. Very few others knew she existed; not even Kanan Jarrus. “If you can even call it a rebellion.”

“All rebellions have to start from somewhere.”

In the uncomfortable pause that followed, it seemed that neither of them wanted to acknowledge that most rebellions also didn’t go anywhere. 

“And what have you been doing here?” Ahsoka said. 

“Guarding.” Obi-Wan put down his mug and gazed out over the landscape. “There’s something here that needs to be kept safe. As far from the Empire as possible.”

“What?”

“Our future.”

Ahsoka didn’t push. It was safer if she didn’t know. But there was one thing she could know…

“Why here?” she asked, running her finger along the edge of the mug’s rough rim. “There’s a million and one empty planets on the Outer Rim, most of them less populated than this. I’d know, I stayed on a few of them.” 

“That is true.” Obi-Wan inclined his head. “However… There’s one thing that drew me to Tatooine. I know that Vader will never, ever look for me here.”

“Oh.” Unwillingly, Vader rose up in Ahsoka’s thoughts again, and her mind seized upon something that she hated to ask, but absolutely needed to ask.

“Did Anakin suffer?” 

Obi-Wan looked up, startled. “What?”

“When Vader killed him. Was it at least… quick?”

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything, and that told Ahsoka all she needed to know. She didn’t remember much of the conversation after that. Just empty words, a vague feeling of wanting to vomit, saying she needed to get back to her ship, and then stumbling out into the desert.

She had never felt so lost as she did wandering through those sands, feeling as if she’d just been stabbed through the chest. For years, she’d managed to hold onto the hope that Anakin was just lying in hiding somewhere, or maybe operating rebel cells from the shadows, or perhaps he’d even just given up on the future and retired to a quiet farm life somewhere without expectation of anything better. Any of those things would’ve been better than this. 

If the Empire could take down Anakin, what hope was there for the rest of them? Bail had told her Yoda was in hiding just like Obi-Wan, and that was it. Ahsoka was the last and most powerful Force user in the galaxy opposing the Empire. And she was no Jedi. 

What chance did she have? As soon as she got pesky enough to really get the Empire’s attention, they’d bring their full might down on her, and that would be it. Maybe there was no point in fighting on. What could she do? She was alone.

It was then that the sandstorm began. 

A distant rumbling drew Ahsoka back to consciousness. She could feel harsh sunlight beating down on her, painfully bright even with her eyelids squeezed shut. Her face was pressed down into something tough and gritty, and an odd, shifting weight pressed down on one side of her.

Sand. The last thing she remembered was the sandstorm, a sudden and violent curtain slamming into her, then losing her bearings and sinking to her knees in a sand dune as stinging particles lashed at her skin. And then, nothing. She raised her head, feeling out the area with her montrals, finding nothing.

With no other option, she raised her head and eased her eyes open. The light was blinding, and at first all she saw was white, tinged by a faint yellow. She extricated one arm from the sand and raised it to shield her eyes. It was then that she realized the rumbling had gotten much louder. 

It seemed to be coming from all around. Too rhythmic to be another sandstorm, but what— 

Everything darkened, and for the first time, Ahsoka could actually see. She looked up and saw the outline of a sleek, gleaming ship. It blotted out the sun as it descended, almost directly above her. The shadow falling over her allowed her a moment to look around, and it was mostly the same as before; somewhere in the wastelands of Tatooine. The dunes looked different, but sandstorms could reshape anything in minutes.

The ship touched down, still shielding her from the sunlight. With one ferocious yank, Ahsoka pulled herself completely out of the sand and tried to get to her feet, only to nearly collapse, suddenly weak and dizzy. How long had she been out here…?

A clunk and a hiss signaled the lowering of a boarding ramp. Ahsoka had no idea what to make of her apparent rescuers. She was grateful to have someone—she felt about two hours from dying—but this was the middle of nowhere. Nobody went out here unless they had a reason. And usually, they were bad reasons. Steadying herself on her knees, she looked up again. Two figures appeared at the ship’s exit, still mostly obscured by the escaping gas from the hydraulics. Ahsoka’s mind jumped to her lightsabers, tucked safely in her boots, but only reserved for the most dire of emergencies. She wasn’t quite there yet. 

The two figures descended the steps—human males, one older, one younger, and—and—

Ahsoka’s heart nearly stopped as a familiar feeling rang out in the Force. They were Force-sensitive. And they were wearing… Jedi robes? What kind of mockery was this? What slain Jedi had they stolen those clothes from?

Ahsoka gritted her teeth. This wasn’t the first time the Empire had found her, but… Well, she wouldn’t be going down without a fight. 

She readied too-stiff muscles, her hands starting to go for her sabers, but just then, the older one spoke.

“Are you all right?”

Ahsoka froze. Those words had no malice in them, no sign of deception that she could sense.

“We sensed you when we were flying overhead,” he continued, coming closer.

Sensed? Ahsoka stared. Who just volunteered that kind of information without knowing who was around to listen? 

“Who are you?” she said, her hands moving closer to her sabers again.

The older one—tall, long hair, a neatly-trimmed beard—spread his arms, revealing empty hands. “It’s all right, stranger. We’re Jedi. And we’re a bit lost ourselves.”

Ahsoka didn’t hear the rest of what he’d said, because she was too busy choking on one word. Jedi. JEDI? 

What the kriff was going on?

“Who are you?” she repeated, liking this situation less and less. She only knew of two Jedi still in existence, and both of them were old and defeated, but certainly not stupid enough to call themselves a Jedi out loud.

“My name is Qui-Gon Jinn,” the older man said, and Ahsoka’s mind began to backpedal frantically as she dragged up old memories she hadn’t touched in years. Wasn’t that—

“And this is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Jinn continued, laying a hand on the shoulder of the younger man.

Ahsoka blinked, focusing on the other man. It took her a second, but she recognized that thoughtful, searching expression even if it looked several decades younger and considerably less bearded. What the—

At that point, Ahsoka had heard enough. Summoning a burst of Force energy, she leapt to her feet and drew her lightsabers in a flash, the white blade-light bouncing off the desert sand and refracting at the edges of her vision. 

“Jinn” and “Obi-Wan” both took a step backward, surprise evident in their eyes and their Force presences. Which only frustrated Ahsoka further.

“Is this a trick?!” she hissed. They weren’t lying. She could sense the truth in their words. Which meant the Empire had to be doing something well and truly kriffed up to trap her now. Messing with her Force sense? Brainwashing two lookalikes into actually thinking that they were Jedi?

She reached out into the Force again, almost throwing her senses at the ‘Jedi.’ And again, it told her something that shouldn’t be possible. Two strong Force presences. Honest confusion, honest concern. No darkness.

“I certainly hope not,” Fake Obi-Wan said, which didn’t help the situation at all, but also bothered Ahsoka immensely because it sounded like the sort of thing Obi-Wan would’ve said in a situation like this. Whoever was imitating him… 

…But the Empire knew Obi-Wan wasn’t this young anymore. This was… She’d only ever seen Obi-Wan look like this in pictures from before she was born. And they knew Qui-Gon Jinn was dead. One thing could be said about the Empire, they kept their facts straight. Especially when it came to Jedi hunting.

Then what? She lowered her lightsabers, ever so slightly, considering that maybe things were even stranger than they appeared. 

“That’s an impressive pair of lightsabers,” Fake Qui-Gon said, tilting his head at her. “White is a rare color.”

Ahsoka stared at him. Seriously?

“Show me yours,” she said.

“Hm?”

“I want to see your lightsabers!” It took every ounce of self-control to keep her voice from turning outright frantic. If their lightsabers were normal, it wouldn’t do much to reassure her, but if these two did have red lightsabers, she could get the talking part of this over with in a hurry. 

“I usually like to get someone’s name before I have to fight them,” Jinn said, and that also bothered Ahsoka because again, that sounded like something Obi-Wan would’ve said, which he could’ve very well gotten from his master.

“I don’t want to fight you,” she said slowly. After a few moment’s consideration, she turned off her sabers, still holding them at the ready. “I just need to know if you really are Jedi.”

The probably fake Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged a look, and then slowly reached into their robes and drew out gleaming hilts. Then, in a very non-confrontational stance, they lit their blades. Green and blue. 

Ahsoka’s breath almost caught at the sight. She wanted to believe this was somehow Obi-Wan in front of her. But she’d seen Obi-Wan Kenobi just an hour ago. She’d sat in his tiny little hut on Tatooine and stared at a face that seemed to have aged three years for every year since they’d last met. This couldn’t be him. 

And Qui-Gon Jinn… there was no doubt about it. She didn’t know the details, but she knew there was a body (unlike someone else from that fight, her brain thought unhelpfully), and she knew that body had been burned at his funeral. Not even Sith magic could bring back the dead. Obi-Wan had confessed to meeting his ghost on Mortis.

So. What. Was. This. 

She reached out into the Force again. It had stayed mostly quiet throughout their encounter, but now she was begging it for an answer. Something. Anything. Just a hint to explain. Maybe she’d finally gone insane. 

Who are these people? she screamed silently.

But then, feeling her question resonate in the air, she noticed something else. The Force felt different. It felt… more alive. There were… She blinked. It hadn’t felt that way since… before the Empire.

An answer floated back to her on the breeze, soft and somehow reassuring.

Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

There was something else in that breeze, the sensation of a million other souls, bright candles in the Force spread out through the galaxy. Some of them familiar, some of them not. Jedi. So many of them. Another whisper came to her from nowhere.

You are not alone.

This time, she believed what it was saying. At least a little bit.

Ahsoka took a deep, heaving breath, and lowered her lightsabers. Her arms suddenly felt incredibly heavy.

“Masters, do me a favor, please?” she said.

Jinn gave her a questioning look as he shut off his lightsaber. 

One who was supposed to be dead, one who was supposed to be old. Flying a flashy ship that would attract way too much attention. Neither of them hiding their Jedi status, or being concerned by running into another Force user. 

She’d been to Mortis. She knew that after that, nothing was out of the question. But this, this thing she was considering now felt almost too outlandish even in comparison to disappearing planets and Force gods.

“Tell me, what year is it?” she asked.

“You’re quite lost, aren’t you?”

“The year. Please.”

But Ahsoka had a pretty good idea of what the answer would be even as Qui-Gon said it. Several seconds of quick mental math later, she was resisting the urge to swear for about the fourth time that minute. 

If they weren’t lying, if she wasn’t somehow misunderstanding the entire situation, if this wasn’t some trap or vision or hallucination, then… she had traveled back in time. The Empire, the purge, the clones—all of it was years away. She was now older than Obi-Wan Kenobi. By several years.

She swayed on her feet ever so slightly, and the real Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both moved forward. 

“Do you need help?” Obi-Wan said.

“May we ask how you got here?” Qui-Gon added.

Ahsoka paused, words getting stuck somewhere in her parched throat. “Masters, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

And then she blacked out.

When Ahsoka woke up on a sofa, ensconced in cool conditioned air and a fleecy blanket, she was greeted by the sight of a teenage Padmé Amidala sponging her forehead. And this time, she actually did swear, because Padmé, the closest thing she’d ever had to a mother figure, was definitely dead. She’d been at Padmé’s funeral. The Empire, of course, had blamed her death on the Jedi.

Not-dead Padmé seemed unphased by the vulgarity. “How do you feel?” she said, withdrawing the sponge. “I can call for the Jedi. They performed healing on you while you were unconscious.”

Ahsoka stared.

“Who are you?” she said finally, even though she knew perfectly well.

“I’m Padmé,” she replied. “One of the Queen’s handmaidens.”

“The queen? Hand—” Ahsoka was interrupted mid-sentence by a tremendous protest from her lungs. When she’d finished coughing, Padmé handed her a cup of water. She nodded in thanks and sipped, racking her brains. Padmé, former queen of Naboo, the handmaidens—oh, right, Padmé’s bodyguards. Who all looked exactly like her. So much that at various visits to Padmé’s office, Ahsoka had accidentally hugged Rabé, Dormé, Eirtaé, and, yes, Sabé—Force, it’d been so long since she had to remember any of this. They’d done this switcheroo thing a few times, she could remember that now. 

“Hi,” Ahsoka managed. The closest thing she’d ever had to a mother figure was now… fourteen. She was the adult figure now. “Nice to meet you.” 

“We’ll take it from here, Padmé,” came a voice from the doorway, and Ahsoka glanced over to see Real Obi-Wan and Real Qui-Gon standing in the doorway. Jinn had his hands on his hips, watching Ahsoka carefully, but without hostility. Obi-Wan’s expression was more unreadable. 

Padmé nodded and slipped out, leaving Ahsoka alone with the two Jedi. Jedi.  Jedi. Ahsoka was in a room with multiple Force users for the first time in… too long. She wanted to hug Obi-Wan, relish the feeling of his strong, sturdy Force presence, but that wasn’t possible anymore. Obi-Wan didn’t know who she was. No one did. She turned her attention to Qui-Gon Jinn, who… Well, she had no idea what to expect. Anakin had only known him for a few days, and Obi-Wan did not like to talk about the past. Which was now the present, apparently. Kriff, that was going to trip her up a lot.

“Masters,” she said, pulling herself up into a sitting position. “Thank you for rescuing me.” 

“We got there just in time,” Jinn said, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to her sofa. “You were dangerously dehydrated when we found you.” 

Ahsoka nodded. “I got lost in a sandstorm.”

“Must’ve been quite a sandstorm.” 

“It was.” Ahsoka could hear the pointed question hidden in Jinn’s voice, and she wasn’t going to take the bait. Not because she was trying to hide anything, but because she had no idea how the hell to answer.

She looked over at Obi-Wan and nearly choked. He was looking at her with the slightly cautious, deferring demeanor of a Padawan, which was, no. What. She wasn’t used to Obi-Wan looking at her like she had seniority.

“Care to tell us your name?” 

“Uh—” Ahsoka hesitated, knowing all too well that people who hesitated when asked to give a name usually didn’t seem all that trustworthy. Fulcrum? Ashla? Probably best to just go with the truth. They would notice if she lied. She felt too tired to lie right now.

“Ahsoka Tano.” She took a long drink of water immediately after.

“Hmm.” Jinn tilted his head. “Pleased to meet you, Master Tano.”

It took a few seconds for those words to sink in, and when they did, Ahsoka almost laughed out loud in bitterness. They were addressing her as a Jedi. And why wouldn’t they? Instead of having a breakdown over the fact that her relationship with the Jedi was hopelessly complicated at this point and further muddled by the nostalgia of a time when everything she held dear still existed, she simply shrugged. 

“Pleased to meet you too.”

“Now, I can’t say I’m old—” Jinn began.

“I can,” Obi-Wan said.

“Padawan,” Jinn said quietly, chagrined. 

Ahsoka choked. That sounded exactly like Obi-Wan and Anakin. Except Obi-Wan was supposed to be the one getting called old.

“—Age notwithstanding, I’ve certainly been around the Temple a few times. And I never once met a Jedi named Ahsoka Tano. In fact, as far as I know, there’s only five Togruta Jedi in the order, and you definitely are not one of them.”

“I…” Ahsoka tried to stall by going back to her water, only to realize the cup was empty. “You shouldn’t,” she said finally. 

“Why is that?”

Ahsoka couldn’t answer this. Even if she did tell the truth, how could she possibly expect them to believe her? She wasn’t even sure what the truth was. 

“Master Tano.” Jinn raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you have any malevolent deeds planned—unless you’re very good at shielding your intentions—but I am rather suspicious of an unknown and powerful Force user popping up out of nowhere. As will be the rest of the Jedi Order.” 

“Well—”  Ahsoka faltered, only to be saved when the door opened again and a helmeted man slipped inside. He leaned down and whispered something to Obi-Wan, who turned to Jinn. 

“Master, it’s getting to be noon. We should head for the settlement if we want to be back by nightfall.” 

Jinn paused for a moment, considering, and then nodded. “Very well.” He turned to Ahsoka. “How are you feeling?”

Ahsoka tested her extremities. “Much better.” 

“Excellent. We have to go into town and buy some new parts for our ship. You’ll have to come with us.”

“What?” Ahsoka stared. “Why?”

“Because, regardless of what I sense in the Force, you are still an unknown entity, and it would be foolish of us to leave you with this ship, which you could easily steal without both of us around to guard you.” He inclined his head. “Seeing as I need to go, you’ll have to come along with us so we can watch you.”

“...Fair enough,” Ahsoka said, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and bending down to tighten the laces on her boots. Wasn’t like she could argue with that. “Who else is coming?”

“Just this astromech.” 

“Fine by me—” Ahsoka heard a stunningly familiar bleeeeep, and looked up to see Artoo, looking shinier and newer than she’d ever seen him, trundling into the room. She almost choked on her own tongue. 

Whatever was going on, it was going to take some getting used to.

Chapter Text

They’d taken her lightsabers.

Ahsoka understood why, but it was incredibly disconcerting, almost terrifying to not feel the reassuring weight of those hilts stowed safely in her boots. Her lightsabers were supposed to be her last line of defense, the emergency measures if the Empire really found her, and her instincts were screaming at her that no lightsabers meant something was seriously, seriously wrong. The years between getting rid of her old ones and building the new pair on Raada had been the worst of her life. She couldn’t stop herself from twitching every time the wind whistled over the dunes. 

They were almost to the settlement. Qui-Gon had one of her sabers, Obi-Wan the other. She could sense them strapped to their belts. Although Qui-Gon had been quite cordial about it, the undertone of suspicion was clear. 

And how exactly was she going to clear up that suspicion? Ahsoka had spent the entire walk trying to think of a way to explain her appearance here without telling them she was from the future.

“Master Tano?”

The sound of Qui-Gon’s voice pulled Ahsoka out of her thoughts, and she glanced up to find him looking at her expectantly. They had arrived at the outskirts of the town.

“Er, sorry?” she said. “I didn’t hear?”

“I was asking if you sensed anything unusual,” Qui-Gon said, folding his arms under his robe. 

Ahsoka extended a hand, reaching out into the Force. She breathed in slowly. The Force around them was calm, but two things in the distance leapt out at her. One, dark and debilitating, a distant cloud radiating hatred, far off beyond the horizon. And the other, much closer, slow and clumsy, but whispering of hidden depths. Like a krayt dragon rising from slumber.

“A disturbance,” she said. “And something else. Something that isn’t a disturbance. I can’t tell what.”

“Hmm.” Qui-Gon frowned. “I only sensed the disturbance.”

Ahsoka froze. Topping a Jedi Master’s Force sensing ability was not a good way to ensure she appeared as unassuming as possible. 

“What is this other thing you feel?”

Well, the loth-cat was out of the bag on that. Ahsoka reached out again, probing the second presence gently. It was strong, that much she could tell. And it felt strangely familiar… But then, so did the dark presence, and she wasn’t going to admit that right now.

“Don’t know. Very strong,” she said.

Qui-Gon rubbed his beard in a method eerily reminiscent of the way Obi-Wan did it, and then shrugged. “Well, let’s see if it wants to find us.” 

With that, he strode onward. They were a strange convoy as they entered the settlement—Qui-Gon towering over everyone as he walked, Obi-Wan skulking behind, clearly having the job of keeping a close eye on Ahsoka, and Padmé (still pretending to be a handmaiden), who had talked her way into the trip somehow. And Ahsoka. Being outsiders was bad enough, but there was a good chance she was the only Togruta on the planet right now. She could feel the stares directed at herself from all quarters. 

Tatooine was an odd place. Almost completely hostile to life, and yet it persisted in so many places, in so many pockets, and was impossible to root out. Even under the Empire life seemed to have gone on as normal there, looking no different than it did right now. That duality of hostility and stubborn life, it meant… something. Only Master Yoda would’ve been able to explain it easily. But Ahsoka could make at least some sense of it. And that sense was: If she had to pick a planet that would’ve thrown her back in time, she would’ve picked Tatooine. 

And she was almost completely sure this was time travel. The more she moved around, felt the Force around her, and interacted with her new companions, the more sure she felt. This felt real. Real enough, at least.

Hm.

Tatooine. Ahsoka stopped short, causing Obi-Wan to run face-first into her shoulder blades.

How could she have completely forgotten?! Anakin was from Tatooine. He was alive and on this planet right now! 

And he was so much younger. She reached out into the Force again, ignoring Obi-Wan asking her why she’d stopped, and this time she recognized the mysterious Force presence, which now felt much closer. 

It was Anakin. He’d never been one to talk much about how he joined the Jedi Order, and on the rare occasions between battles when Ahsoka had squeezed some backstory out of him, he was always frustratingly vague. What Ahsoka had gathered was this: He’d lived as a slave on Tatooine until Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, escaping Naboo, landed there and found him. And now, by the virtue of apparently traveling through time, she was getting a firsthand look at his past.

She muttered an apology to Obi-Wan for the accident and rounded a corner, only to almost run into Qui-Gon.

He gave her a curious look. “I’ve found a shop,” he said, motioning to the earthen door of the building next to them.

Right. Ahsoka took a deep breath and followed him in. This was fine. Wherever Anakin was, he would get to leave this planet soon, just like he’d told her. Unless… Unless her arrival had somehow messed up the sequence of events and maybe Anakin would be stuck on this planet forever.

As Qui-Gon conversed with a Toydarian, she drifted off to the side, noticing a small exit to some sort of courtyard filled with scrap. Stepping outside, she took a deep breath and collected herself. 

Hm. She glanced around. That presence in the Force, the non-disturbing one she’d felt earlier, was only getting stronger, but she still couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

“You’re not from around here.” 

Ahsoka spun around to face the new voice, was momentarily thrown off by the apparent lack of anything in the vicinity, and then looked down. Immediately, she felt like she’d been punched in the face on three different planes of existence. Anakin Skywalker peered up at her from below, blonde-haired, innocent-faced, a kriffing child.  

Ahsoka stared. Anakin was wide-eyed, taking in every inch of her. 

“Anakin?” she said, the name out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Anakin’s eyes bugged out, making him look positively Gran-esque. “How do you know me?!” 

Resisting the urge to curse loudly, Ahsoka tried to think of a suitable answer. Fortunately or unfortunately, Anakin kept talking.

He pointed to her armor. “You’re not dressed like anyone from around here. Are you from offworld?”

“I…” Ahsoka still couldn’t find words. He was here, he was alive again, and he had no idea who she was. “I am.”

She really wasn’t supposed to be talking to him! Whatever had happened to get him off Tatooine, she needed to step back and just let it happen the way it did. “I think you’re needed inside,” she added hurriedly.

Anakin didn’t seem to have heard a word. “Really? Wow! Where are you from?”

Oh Force… Ahsoka felt the bizarre urge to squish his cheeks, because he was an adorable child, but he was her master. She couldn’t squish the cheeks of her old master, no matter how young he was. 

But before Ahsoka could reply, a voice rasped from inside, “BOY! Get in here!”

Anakin glanced towards the voice, then up at Ahsoka with apologetic eyes. “Sorry! Watto needs me!” Then he darted past her before she could reply.

Ahsoka followed him inside, dazed. Just… hours ago, or twenty years before… or whatever, however her time worked now, she’d found out Anakin was dead, and now she was seeing him in front of her again, but he didn’t know who she was. If this was the galaxy’s way of fixing everything, it had a terrible sense of humor.

Watto spat a few words in another language at Anakin, and Anakin nodded frantically, bowing his head and scraping his foot against the ground. Obi-Wan was lurking inside near the door, one eye trained on Ahsoka from underneath his hood.

Ahsoka scowled at the shopkeeper’s backside as he flew out to the courtyard again, before glancing around the shop again, watching Anakin closely as he began cleaning one of the shelves.

He was a slave. He had an exploding chip somewhere in him. What did that do to Anakin, growing up knowing that there was something buried in him that would end him if he tried to take control of his life? She wished she could just reach out with the Force and yank that chip out of his skin. But that risked setting off the chip.

She looked away, her gaze bouncing around the shop. She was torn between wanting to keep her eyes glued to Anakin, and being unable to bear seeing Anakin as a slave and being treated this way. 

“Are you a pilot?” Anakin’s voice said at her elbow, and she jumped a kilometer, looking down to see him wiping grease off his hands with a rag.

“Sort of.”

“Where are you from?”

It took Ahsoka a few seconds to figure out a safe answer. “Shili.” 

“Oh.” Anakin squinted, thinking, and then brightened. “You’re a Togruta!”

Ahsoka barely held back a chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Yep. You know your species better than most human kids I’ve met.”

“I ask all the pilots that come here about where they go,” Anakin said. “I want to go to all of them someday.” He paused, but only for a moment. “Have you met any Jedi?” 

“...A few,” Ahsoka said, swallowing back a tangled mass of emotions.

“Really? Wow! What were they like?”

“Powerful. Honorable.” Ahsoka tilted her head, remembering the last things the Order had done to her, and then chose to focus on the best memories, the ones that counted for so much more. “Always helping others. Brave,” she said finally. It helped that the best Jedi she’d ever known was standing right in front of her. 

“Whoaaaa.” Anakin gave an appreciative nod before darting sideways to push a crate under a shelf. “I’ve always wanted to meet a Jedi. But I don’t think they’d ever come here.”

“You never know,” Ahsoka said, glancing over to Obi-Wan, who gave her a pointed look that was probably saying DON’T BLOW OUR COVER.

Unfortunately, Anakin noticed her looking. 

“Who’s that?” he said, inclining his head at Obi-Wan. 

“My friend.” Ahsoka left it at that. The less she said, the better for making sure nothing got messed up. Of course, this would be easier if she knew what had happened on Tatooine beyond a few vague sentences. She really, really wished Anakin had talked about his past more.

Qui-Gon and Watto re-entered the shop, and Ahsoka straightened, only to realize his face was lined with disappointment. 

“We’re leaving,” he said, nodding to Ahsoka and Obi-Wan. 

Ahsoka blinked, trying to remember if this was how it was supposed to go. Obi-Wan had mentioned this once; there was something about the shopkeeper refusing to sell, and they’d had to… Something happened that led to Anakin podracing for the ship and his freedom. So… keep quiet and follow Qui-Gon’s lead for now. She could do that. 

They’d been back in the harsh desert sun for a few minutes when Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon and said, “No luck, I take it?”

“He doesn’t deal in Republic credits,” Qui-Gon said, sidestepping a slow-moving speeder. “Is there anything on the ship we can barter with?”

“Just essentials, a few small arms, and the queen’s wardrobe.”

“Hm.” Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, and then he shrugged. “I’m sure another situation will present itself.”

Ahsoka shot a sideways glance at him. Had this been part of the original plan the first time around?  

“Excuse me, Miss?”

The group turned around as a familiar voice struck them, and Ahsoka found Anakin looking up at her. 

“You dropped your communicator back in the shop.”

Ahsoka looked at the thing Anakin was holding out to her. It was rusty, caked with dust, and looked like it hadn’t been working in years. “I didn’t—”

“How did you know my name?” Anakin burst out. 

Oh, kriff. Ahsoka could feel Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan staring at her. 

“Sometimes I dream about people coming and taking me away from here,” he continued, his eyes locked onto her. “Are you those people?”

Ahsoka looked to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan for help with a glance that she hoped would communicate she hadn’t planned any of this. 

“It’s best not to spend your life hoping for things like that, child,” Qui-Gon said, bending down to meet Anakin’s eyes. “You can waste a life like that, waiting for something that’ll never happen.” 

Anakin pouted, but only for a moment. “There’s a storm coming up. Where’s your ship?”

“On the dunes,” Qui-Gon said.

Anakin shook his head fiercely. “You’ll never make it back in time. Sandstorms swallow people up in less than a minute. Don’t go into it.” He turned back to Ahsoka, fixing a pleading look on her. “You can stay at my place until it’s blown over.” 

Ahsoka glanced at Qui-Gon, who looked to the sky in thought. There was a line of clouds gathering on the horizon—at least, Ahsoka thought they were clouds until she noticed them growing in size, taking up more and more of the sky at a deceptively slow pace. A sandstorm—how sandstorms were supposed to look when they weren’t throwing you back in time.

“I think we’ll defer to your knowledge, young one,” Qui-Gon said, nodding to Anakin. “Lead the way.”

Anakin broke into a huge grin. “Come on! It’s this way!” With that, he broke into a bounding run.

Qui-Gon gave Ahsoka an arch look as they followed.

“You know this child?” he said.

Ahsoka considered her options, and decided that the truth, on technicality, would be the only thing that worked. 

“Yes and no.” 

Qui-Gon stared at her. She could sense him probing with the Force, trying to get a read on her emotions, and in response, Ahsoka made no effort to hide the genuine exhaustion and the confusion that she felt.

Qui-Gon was silent for a long time. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with suspicion. 

“Once we’ve delivered the queen safely to Coruscant, the Council will have a long talk with you, Master Tano.”

It was easy for Ahsoka to nod her assent. She was used to long talks with the Jedi Council.

Ahsoka was at a table of ghosts. Ghosts that ate, drank, conversed, and didn’t know that she would outlive all of them. She ate slowly, her eyes darting around the table.

Qui-Gon. Dead before Ahsoka ever had the chance to meet him. Something of a looming legend in her consciousness. Seeing him flesh-and-blood was… disconcerting.

Padmé, listening intently to Shmi. Anakin, looking intently at Padmé. Both of them dead in twenty years. Never able to be out in the open about their relationship. She had no idea if they’d died together or apart. Padmé had been pregnant. Did they ever get a chance to see their children? Obi-Wan, old Obi-Wan on Tatooine, had been too reluctant to speak of any of that.

Obi-Wan. Dead in spirit when Ahsoka had found him. Technically alive, but only in a crude sense. She knew the expression of someone defeated, someone who could only wait for the tides to turn again. He was waiting for death. She’d seen that same emptiness in the younglings hunted by the Trandoshans.

Shmi. A woman Ahsoka knew nearly nothing about. According to Anakin, she was a kind person who would’ve done anything for him. The kindness was obvious from the first moments when Shmi welcomed them in. And from one passing glance at the mostly-bare pantry of the Skywalker abode, Ahsoka could tell there wasn’t enough food to spare for visitors. But that didn’t stop Shmi from doing her best to accommodate the newcomers, and somehow each place at the table had a bowl of food when they sat down. And to Ahsoka’s surprise, Shmi had known that Togrutas were carnivorous and given her meat only. She knew where Anakin’s kindness came from.

Anakin only talked about her once or twice, never about her death. All she knew was that she couldn’t come with Anakin when he’d left, and then ten years later she was dead despite Anakin flying home to save her. 

And now Ahsoka was sitting across from her, listening to her explain just how slavery thrived in the Outer Rim, and she found herself wondering, how could they NOT rescue Shmi too? 

She did know that Anakin had wondered that more than a few times. 

“At least I… I was able to bring her back,” he had said, his voice trailing off into nothingness as he spoke. He’d been alone on the bridge of the Resolute with her when he said that, leaving Coruscant for their first mission after she’d been rescued from the Trandoshan kidnappers. Ahsoka never pressed further on the subject. 

Ahsoka had mourned some of these people, and seen others mourn for the rest. And now, she had to learn to accept that they were here again. 

But despite how impossible it all was, Ahsoka was more and more sure that these people, this planet, this time, were all real. Which meant that every one of these people could be saved. She could save them from a fate they had no idea of. 

She looked at Anakin again. She couldn’t think of him as her former master anymore. He’d never know about that. He was a child now, looking up to her. She… What was she supposed to do around him?

It was then that Anakin noticed her looking at him. He turned to stare at her, his expression full of curiosity.

“Are you a Jedi?” he said quietly, his voice filling a sudden lull in the room. 

Something clenched in Ahsoka’s chest, and she had to take a minute to finish chewing her food, swallowing it slowly as she considered her answer. The last person to ask her that had been Bail Organa, his words tinged with sad irony as they conferred in his office. Are you still a Jedi? 

After a moment’s thought, she gave him the same answer she’d given Bail: “And what if I am?”

“Are you here to rescue us?” Anakin said, his eyes as wide as she’d ever seen them.

How similar to what Bail had said. His answer was, I’ve been in desperate need of one of those lately. 

Shmi was watching her thoughtfully. Ahsoka couldn’t outright say no, not when she knew Anakin was about to be rescued somehow. She looked to Qui-Gon for help.

“What makes you think she’s a Jedi?” he asked, folding his hands in front of him. 

“Jedi can read people’s minds. She knew my name before I said anything.” 

“Perhaps it was a lucky guess.”

Anakin shook his head rapidly, never looking away from Ahsoka. “Luck doesn’t happen here.”

There was a long pause, and then Qui-Gon leaned forward, a slight smile playing over his face. “There’s no hiding it from you, I suppose,” he said, fixing his gaze on Anakin. “We are, in fact, Jedi.”

Anakin finally looked at Qui-Gon, his eyes widening again, as big as Ahsoka had ever seen them. But almost immediately he turned back to Ahsoka, directing his question at her. “Have you come here to free us?”

Ahsoka swallowed hard. She didn’t know what the right answer was. She didn’t know what would get Anakin off this planet. She didn’t know how her presence here was changing events. What she did know was that she was the only person in the galaxy who could save everyone.

Saving everyone was impossible. That wouldn’t stop her from trying, of course.

One night later

Ahsoka laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling as her mind roiled with confusion. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all.

Earlier that day, Qui-Gon had approached Watto and arranged a bet with him, and that made sense, that was correct, but the content of the bet was all wrong.

The way Anakin had told it to her, once when he was in a jovial mood after seeing a podrace on Malastare, he’d said, “It was the most important bet in the history of the galaxy. Qui-Gon bet Padmé's ship on me, and if I won, he’d get my freedom and the parts for his ship. Good thing I won, or we’d be losing this war right now.” 

But the way Qui-Gon had just made the bet with Watto today, he was betting the queen’s ship, and Watto was betting the parts needed to repair the ship. There was no mention of Anakin or his freedom. Even if Anakin won the race, he’d still be stuck here.

This was the chilling proof that Ahsoka’s presence could and would drastically change everything. Anakin was focusing on her when he should’ve been catching Qui-Gon’s attention. If he didn’t know, he wouldn’t have any reason to rescue Anakin. 

It was too late to change the bet, and Ahsoka knew Qui-Gon wouldn’t listen to her if she tried to suggest rescuing Anakin. Something else would have to be done to get him off this planet.

An idea had been forming in her head for the last half-hour. A terrible, leaky, dangerous idea that could get herself killed if it went wrong, and could get all of them killed if it went catastrophically wrong. But as long as Anakin wasn’t coming along with them, things were already going catastrophically wrong.

If her presence meant that things were already being changed radically, then, well… she might as well lean into that and let herself change things too.

Ahsoka glanced sideways at Qui-Gon’s bed, a meter away from her. He was sleeping soundly on his back. She slowly raised herself out of bed and edged closer to Qui-Gon, her breath bottled up in her chest and her heart rate coaxed down to a near-crawl. She refused to allow herself to feel any nerves in this moment. Any step out of line, any emotional crack would resonate like a plucked string in the Force, waking Qui-Gon instantly. 

In the pitch-black, she was seeing only with her montrals, reading the dim outline of Qui-Gon’s sleeping body as she drew near. At his waist, his robe was thrown to one side, letting her recognize two distinct hilts that glowed brightly in the Force. One was Qui-Gon’s, and one was hers. Ahsoka paused, sensing the tightness of the elastic strap that held her lightsaber against his waist, and took a slow breath. No going back. With the most delicate application of the Force, she eased the strap upward, just far enough for her lightsaber to come loose, and then she urged it towards her, levitating it just millimeters from Qui-Gon’s side. She pulled it towards her, holding her breath as the lightsaber slid in her direction. 

Qui-Gon grumbled in his sleep. Ahsoka froze, her hilt in midair just above his torso, and considered calling it to her at full speed and making a run for it.

But he fell silent, and Ahsoka continued summoning the hilt to her, not taking a breath until it was solidly in her hand. She looked sideways at Obi-Wan and wondered if she should try taking her other lightsaber, which he still had. 

Better not to push her luck. 

She was almost to the door when her montrals picked up on something at the other end of the room. She stopped, tilting her head, and sensed a small, recognizable Force presence. She couldn’t see Anakin, but she could detect him in the doorway, watching her. Ahsoka turned to Anakin and then tilted her head towards the doorway, indicating that he should follow. He did.

Outside, the streets were quiet, the distant whistle of the wind and the occasional distant yell from the cantina the only signs of life.

“Where are you going?” Anakin whispered. His eyes went to the lightsaber in Ahsoka’s hand. “Are you going to kill someone?” 

Ahsoka shook her head.

“Then what?”

Ahsoka wasn’t quick to reply. She didn’t want to tell Anakin her plan yet, lest she get his hopes up and then come back empty-handed. Or not come back at all.

“I’ll tell you when I come back.”

“What do you need your laser sword for?”

Ahsoka couldn’t help but bare a ferocious grin in the moonlight, letting her fangs show. “Persuasion.”

Anakin nodded rapidly, understanding flooding his face. “Good luck.” 

Ahsoka nodded, tucking her lightsaber into her belt, and jumped straight upward, landing on the roof, and leapt forward again, landing neatly on the sand behind the settlements that marked the beginning of the wastelands. She took off running, a deadly spring in her step.

Getting an audience with Jabba the Hutt would’ve been a challenge for most people, but for Ahsoka, it was a matter of a few Force-suggestions to the guards and a chamberman, and several long minutes later the crime lord came slithering into the throne room, looking enraged. A weedy Iktochi hurried in moments afterward, bowed deeply to him, and listened as Jabba spat out something in Huttese. 

The interpreter turned to Ahsoka and said, in a quavering voice, “The illustrious Jabba demands to know who has aroused him from his slumber.” 

Ahsoka glanced around at the several Gamorrean guards already hefting their axes, and decided to dispose with the pleasantries. She turned on her lightsaber. 

Jabba recoiled, and several of the guards sprang forward, but Ahsoka turned to face them. One enterprising guard actually swung his axe at her in an atrociously telegraphed move, and she sidestepped the attack, slashing her saber through his axe handle as he stumbled forward off-balance. The weapon clattered to the floor, and the guard scrambled backwards, shouting something in an unrecognizable tongue.

The other guards suddenly looked much more reluctant to engage. Ahsoka turned back to Jabba and shut off her saber. Jabba, looking much more awake, shouted something at the interpreter, who could barely get his words out now.

“The mighty Jabba wishes to know why a Jedi has dared to trespass on his lands. He warns you to tread carefully with your answer, because although you are powerful, he can turn the might of an entire planet against you with a wave of his hand.”

“I’m no Jedi,” Ahsoka said calmly. “I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Then why do you carry a Jedi weapon?”

“I killed one.”

There was a long silence, in which Jabba suddenly appeared more thoughtful then angry, before he spoke again.

“The exalted Jabba regrets that he did not recognize such an accomplished bounty hunter.”

Ahsoka nodded. 

“And he would like to know what you want at such an inhospitable hour.”

Ahsoka lifted her lightsaber a little bit higher. “I want to make a deal.” 

It was close enough to sunrise on the dunes that the lightening sky gave Ahsoka more than enough light to see clear to the horizon. The land was featureless in all directions; exactly what she needed. 

She looked to the west, where the sky was brighter, more white than dark blue, and bent down to one knee, placing her hand in the sand. 

Closing her eyes, she concentrated, sending a powerful pulse deep into the ground with the Force. It could be felt from miles off by the right creature. 

She squinted, scanning the distant line between sand and sky for a telltale disturbance. Three failed attempts and hours of searching with the crude maps Jabba had given her had led to this moment. The Force was silent, except for that same strange, Dark, distant presence she’d sensed when they were entering the village. She had, at most, an hour before Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan would wake up and realize she was gone with a lightsaber. 

And then she saw it. A distant cloud, but not the walled cloud of a sandstorm, a single cloud rising from the ground like a spurt of water. At first, it seemed to move from side to side, but eventually it seemed to cease motion and hover. That only meant it was heading straight for Ahsoka, like an enemy fighter acquiring a missile lock. 

Ahsoka took a deep breath and reached into the Force, collecting herself. When making a deal with Jabba, one needed to offer him something he couldn’t get from anyone else. 

Like a sandstorm, the cloud was slowly growing bigger, but it was something even deadlier. At least with a sandstorm, you had a small chance if you hunkered down and tried to wait. 

There was a distant rumbling now. She closed her eyes and began to whisper.

“I’m one with the Force.”

The ground beneath her feet began to shake. 

“And the Force is with me.”

The rumbling was almost a roar. The air itself felt like it was vibrating around her.

“I’m one with the Force.”

She’d made a deal with Jabba that he couldn’t refuse.

“And the Force is with me.”

The sand beneath Ahsoka’s feet began to slip away from her, and she leapt straight up just as the ground exploded, an enormous head bursting out of the sand, a gaping maw passing just inches from Ahsoka’s twisting form, bone-white teeth larger than her glinting in the first rays of dawn.

There were very few people in the galaxy who could kill a Krayt dragon, after all.

Ahsoka ignited her lightsaber and turned as she rose, coming to fully face the dragon at the apex of her leap. The Force flowed all around her, sharpening her senses and rendering the world in one frozen moment, sand spraying around her in slow motion. The Krayt dragon was twisting too, slithering upward out of the sand as it tried to find the prey that had been on the sand moments ago. 

As it rolled, Ahsoka saw her chance, a gigantic black eye coming into view beneath her. She tightened her grip on her saber and called on the Force again. She plummeted with blinding speed, closing the distance between her and the dragon in an instant. Her aim was true, and the glowing white blade, even brighter than the jagged teeth beneath, plunged straight into the dragon’s eye. It kept going, deeper, deeper, and then Ahsoka was plunging her arm in too, as far as she could get it into the beast’s head. 

Her saber hissed and crackled, and Ahsoka knew she’d hit something delicate, something that already meant death for the dragon no matter how much it might thrash in the coming minutes.

A deafening roar shattered the silence of distant villages, and twenty kilometers away, Anakin Skywalker sat bolt upright in his bed. 

When Ahsoka walked back into Watto’s shop, Anakin was in the corner, cleaning a pit droid. He brightened when he saw Ahsoka, then paused when he realized she was covered in dust and scrapes. Ahsoka gave him an encouraging smile and marched past. Watto was at the counter, looking at something on a datapad. He looked up as she approached. 

He grunted. “Your friends around this morning? I want—”

Ahsoka interrupted him by tossing a pouch on his counter. Watto stared at it and then picked up, peeking inside. When he caught sight of its contents, his eyes bulged. 

“These ingots—”

“Real. One hundred percent pure.”

Watto started to reach into the pouch, but Ahsoka put a hand on his wrist, stopping him.

Watto put down his datapad and narrowed his eyes, really looking at Ahsoka for the first time. “Be careful walking around with all this money, lady. Someone might want it more than you do.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Ahsoka pulled back her cloak, revealing another pouch affixed to her belt. “There’s more where that came from.”

Watto’s jaw dropped. 

“I’d like to make a purchase.”

“Purchasing those ship parts?” Watto chuckled and leaned an elbow on the counter. “At least someone’s smart enough to realize how stupid yous’ friends’ bet was.” 

“No.”

Watto blinked. “Eh?”

Ahsoka glanced back at Anakin, who was still cleaning the pit droid and trying to pretend that he wasn’t listening to their conversation. She gritted her teeth, hating how she was about to have to talk about him.

“I want to buy their freedom. Anakin and Shmi.”

“Are you crazy? Why would I sell my most valuable property?”

Ahsoka swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat, resisting the urge to go for her lightsaber. Forcing calm into her voice, she spoke again. 

“Because I’ve got the money to buy them.”

It would be so easy to kill Watto right then and there, but that would only make things worse. She needed access to the transmitter that would detonate Anakin and Shmi’s tracking devices if they tried to escape, and he couldn’t give them up if he was dead. And killing a slaveowner to free slaves would not go down well on a Hutt-controlled world. They—and all the other slaves in this town—would have targets on their backs immediately. 

“Ha.” Watto snorted and shoved the bag back at her. “Even twice this amount wouldn’t be enough.”

“Good thing I’ve got more.” Ahsoka pulled her coat back one more time, revealing the other three pouches she still had hidden under her cloak.

Watto stared, his hand hovering over the pouch on the counter. “Why the sudden interest? If you wanted your own slaves so bad, there’s plenty of cheaper ones for sale around here.”

“I don’t want a slave. I want their freedom.”

“Huh.” Watto grunted, visibly unimpressed. “You’ve been here for what, two days? What do those two matter to you?” 

“I have my reasons.”

“Hm.” Watto squinted, pulling an ingot out of the pouch and inspecting it closely. “It’ll be a lot of trouble to get some more. A few days at least. That’s lost labor, lost profit.”

Come on, take the bait, you slimy pile of flesh, I’m giving you more money than you ever deserve to have.

Ahsoka could feel Anakin staring at her.

“If you don’t want to sell them, I guess I’ll just take all this money with me.” 

“Let’s not be hasty, eh?” Watto gestured to the pouches on her belt. “If you’re serious about this, then you won’t have a problem paying the full price.”

“Which is?”

“Everything you’ve got.”

“Deal.” Ahsoka reached for the pouches on her belt and dropped them on the counter. 

Watto chuckled. His smile was the worst thing Ahsoka had ever seen. “Pleasure doing business.” He held out a hand.

Ahsoka didn’t shake it. “I want the chip transmitters. Now.” 

“Of course. Give me a few minutes.” Watto turned and fluttered into the depths of the shop, and finally, Ahsoka allowed herself to exhale. She turned, leaning against the counter and gripping it tightly, almost unable to believe what she’d done.

Anakin had dropped the power coupling he was holding, his mouth wide open. “Miss Ahsoka?” he said, his voice quavering.

Ahsoka tried to think of anything to say to him, but she had nothing. Absolutely nothing. She glanced sideways, searching for words, and saw Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan standing in the doorway, staring at her in surprise not far off from Anakin’s. 

Qui-Gon had a hand on his hip, in the exact spot where one of Ahsoka’s lightsabers would be if she hadn’t stolen it from him. After a moment, though, he crossed his arms, straightening. 

Finally, Ahsoka found her voice. “Anakin?” she said. “Why don’t you go tell your mom what just happened?” 

Anakin nodded twice and then scampered out of the shop, squeezing between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan on his way out. Qui-Gon turned and watched him leave, waiting until he was out of view to face Ahsoka again. Ahsoka readied herself.

“Master Tano, I believe you took something off me during the night.” 

Ahsoka nodded.

“I’d appreciate having it back, please.” Qui-Gon’s weight shifted ever so slightly, just enough for Ahsoka to know that he was getting ready for trouble.

Ahsoka slowly withdrew the hilt from the folds of her robes, keeping it pointed at herself, and placed it on the floor before kicking it over to Qui-Gon. He bent down to inspect the hilt and nodded. However, he did not relax his posture. 

“Why steal the saber from me, and not Obi-Wan?” 

Ahsoka shrugged. “Just needed my dominant hand saber. Didn’t want to push my luck.” 

“A wise move. Obi-Wan is a light sleeper, and he would’ve been alerted to your nighttime escapade. Speaking of which, care to tell us what you were doing?”

“I killed a Krayt Dragon for Jabba the Hutt to earn the money needed to buy Anakin and Shmi’s freedom.” Ahsoka spoke the sentence without blinking once, staring directly into Qui-Gon’s eyes. 

Qui-Gon stared at her. Obi-Wan didn’t even try to hide his surprise.

“And why… would you want their freedom specifically?”

Once again, Ahsoka sensed that anything but the truth would be a dangerous answer here. Although the truth wasn’t much less dangerous. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure Watto or Anakin hadn’t returned, before lowering her voice. “He’s Force-sensitive.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. “I sensed it too. If he had been born in Republic space, we would’ve brought him to the Temple long ago.”

“And you were just going to leave him here? Especially after he knows you’re Jedi and thinks we came for him?”

“No, actually.” Qui-Gon took a step into the shop, tilting his head. “I was going to make another bet on the podrace, for their freedom.” 

Oh.

“I… didn’t know,” she said.

“Obviously. So you made your own plan, freed him and his mother on your own terms, going against our direct wishes in doing so… I certainly cannot find any dispute with the results of your actions, but my Padawan and I do find ourselves wondering why you have so many plans of your own, Master Tano, and why you seem to know so much.”

There was the slightest hint of a pointed question in the way Qui-Gon said master, and Ahsoka took a deep breath, her chest tightening. She’d been hoping this wouldn’t come so soon.

“You’ve been an enigma ever since our paths crossed. I think it’s time you were honest with us.” 

Ahsoka swallowed, her mind racing. “Maybe we should sit down for this.”

Qui-Gon glanced around the cluttered shop. “Where, exactly?” 

In reply, Ahsoka bent down to the floor, dusting off the floor before crossing her legs and looking expectantly at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, who nodded and followed suit.

“The truth, masters, is…” There wasn’t any room for the truth. Maybe there was a chance they—and the Council—would believe her, but even if she could tell them the entire story of Palpatine, the Clone Wars, the Purge, the Empire, they would ask how she had survived all this. And she would have to tell them that she’d left the Order. And then they would no longer trust her or her story of the future. The Council would be unable to believe what had made Ahsoka leave the order, because they wouldn’t believe that their future selves could be so wrong.

No, telling them the future would only bring endless suspicion on her. So, after so many truths, half-truths, and evasions, Ahsoka would have to lie. Thankfully, once upon a time, Anakin had given her some advice for lying to other Jedi.

“Make the lie match the truth, Ahsoka. If the truth is really boring, like ‘I dropped my lightsaber in the fountain during my exercises,’ then the lie has to be boring too, like ‘I left it in the repair shop.’ And if the truth is really weird, like ‘Chancellor Palpatine took me to a seedy dive bar to show me how lowlifes live,’ then the lie has to be weird too, like ‘I was spying on Master Yoda to see if the rumor that he eats live frogs was true.’”

Well, with how the truth was looking, it was time for her to get weird. “What do you want to know?”

“For starters—yesterday.” Jinn looked Ahsoka dead in the eyes, and she could feel his Force presence settling over her. “How did you know Anakin’s name? You said he looked like someone you knew, and I believe that. But there is something about him that makes me think this is more than just coincidence.”

Ahsoka nodded, concentrating on keeping her presence as untroubled as possible. “And you were right. I didn’t… tell the entire truth. I recognized Anakin as himself, not as someone else.”

Qui-Gon gave a noncommittal hum, signaling her to continue.

“I recognized him from… the future.”

“The future?” 

“I… have visions. I have visions of the future. I have had them for most of my life.” 

“Hmm.” Qui-Gon squinted, then looked sideways to Obi-Wan, who, after a moment, shrugged. “A Jedi with such a propensity for visions would be the center of attention within the Order, no? And yet…” 

“There’s a reason for that. Nobody alive knows who I am.”

Another look. “And why is that?”

“Well, Masters—” Ahsoka shifted, gathering herself. “Remember how you found me in the desert?”

“Another paradox. No water, no food, no weapons, the nearest settlement several days away.”

“Yeah.” Ahsoka sighed. “It didn’t make any sense to me either. Until I realized I was taken there.”

“By who?”

“Not who. What.” Ahsoka ran her eyes over the assorted machinery. “I… I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t even fully understand it myself. I’m not sure what brought me here. One minute, I was walking through the dunes towards my ship, and then the next minute, a sandstorm came up, and when it died down… I didn’t know where I was, and I was being approached by an unfamiliar ship…” She shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t sure who you were. So I had to be careful.”

“Surely you recognized us as fellow Jedi.”

“I thought you were Sith.”

“Sith?” Qui-Gon looked almost taken aback. “They’ve been extinct for a thousand years.”

“Oh.” Ahsoka closed her eyes and looked down, rubbing her face with both hands. She could thank her various undercover missions for giving her decent acting skills. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Afraid of?”

“Master Jinn, as far as I remember, the Sith are alive and well. In fact, I recall them being the dominant force in the galaxy.”

Qui-Gon’s brow furrowed. “I don’t follow.”

“Do you remember when I asked you what year it was?”

“Oh, that.” Qui-Gon exchanged another look with Obi-Wan. “We thought you were delirious.”

“No.” Ahsoka centered herself, focusing on complete calm. “I’m not from this time. Far from it.” 

The only response to that was dead silence. 

Another trick of lying Anakin had taught her: build your lies on as many truths as possible. Up until now, she’d been able to stick mostly to the truth, and he would’ve been proud of her. Now, it was time to see if she could sell the actual lie. No going back from it.

“Somehow, I’ve traveled through time.” Ahsoka opened her eyes, facing Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. “I’m from the past.” 

Chapter Text

“The past,” Qui-Gon repeated, disbelief creeping into his tone. “Which part of the past?”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get a word out, she sensed Watto approaching. She jumped to her feet immediately, and seconds later, he entered the room, a small metal box in hand. 

“The transmitter—”

“Thanks.” Ahsoka snatched it out of his hand, only taking the time to ensure that it wasn’t a counterfeit (the Force confirmed its veracity). She marched out of the shop towards Anakin and Shmi’s hut, not waiting for the other Jedi. Fortunately, they caught up to her. 

“Forgive me, Masters, but this can’t wait,” Ahsoka said, not slowing her pace. “I will free these people before I do anything else.” 

“Far be it from us to stop you,” Qui-Gon said, raising an appeasing hand. “But— the past?” 

“When was the last time the Sith ruled the galaxy?” Ahsoka said, rounding a corner and checking a crude signpost. Yep, right direction. 

“The closest thing to what you’re talking about came more three millennia ago during the Sith Wars, when the old Sith Empire briefly dismantled the Old Republic and became the dominant force in—”

“Sure didn’t feel brief to me,” Ahsoka said. That part, at least, wasn’t a lie. In terms of sheer numbers, the Galactic Empire’s rule was a drop in the bucket compared to how long the Republic had lasted, but every day she had to hide her face from Stormtroopers in the streets was an eternity to her.

Belatedly, she realized that her words might’ve come out with more bitterness than she’d intended. Far more. Although, that may not have been a bad thing, given how Qui-Gon had suddenly gone quiet. 

“Time travel is impossible,” Obi-Wan said, sidestepping a wayward mouse droid.

“I don’t know how else to explain what happened to me.”

That silenced Obi-Wan too. Which was about as much as she could hope for from her cover story at this point. It was ridiculous. It was less well-thought-out than Anakin’s most rash plans. And yet, there was a way it could all work, Ahsoka thought as she rapidly approached the Skywalkers’ hut. It would satisfy the Order’s curiosity as to why there was no record of her existence anywhere despite being such a skilled Force user. And technology was similar enough in the days of the Sith Empire that someone from that time could have a reasonable understanding of present-day technologies, like the slave chip transmitter in her hand. 

Speaking of the transmitter—she was at their hut. When she walked in, Shmi was sitting ramrod-straight at the table, holding Anakin close to her. She half-rose as Ahsoka entered, but sat down heavily as soon as she saw the transmitter, a hand going to her forehead. Wordlessly, Ahsoka handed it to her. 

Shmi shook her head, not disapproving, but disbelieving, before pressing the button on the transmitter that would deactivate her chip. She tensed as she did so, but there was no explosion, no slavers coming through the door to steal her again. At the same time, the Force, which had wrapped itself so tightly around Shmi’s ankle and pulsed warnings in Ahsoka’s mind, suddenly loosened, falling away from Shmi and leaving her unshackled. 

“It’s done,” Ahsoka said. “It’s turned off.”

Shmi nodded. “Thank you.” Something melted out of her expression as she straightened herself, smoothing over her wrinkled dress. Then she brushed the hair out of Anakin’s eyes with her free hand and pressed the other button on the transmitter. Ahsoka felt the same evaporation of danger in the Force and allowed herself to feel relieved. She’d done the hard part. 

“It’s done?” Anakin said, bending down to look at his ankle. When Ahsoka nodded, he yelled and leapt in the air, punching his fist and yelling something joyful in Huttese before breaking off into a celebratory frenzy of movement. 

Shmi turned over the transmitter in her hand, looked down to the spot on her ankle where the now-useless chip was hidden, and then fixed her gaze on Ahsoka.

“Why us?” she said finally. 

Ahsoka looked over to Anakin, who was in the corner of the hut, spinning in circles with his arms flung out, occasionally slowing to beam at Ahsoka and Shmi before losing himself in the dance again. 

She could relate, if only slightly. When Anakin and Rex freed her after her brief enslavement on Kadavo, she’d had the same reflex—just move, revel in the fact that you could move anywhere— it was a feeling of limitlessness. 

“He thought we came here for him,” Ahsoka said finally. “How could I leave him here after getting his hopes up like that?” 

“I don’t know what to say,” Shmi said. She set the transmitter down next to her, seemed to think better of it, and got up, heading for the bedroom with it. She re-emerged with a section of cloth, which she used to tie the transmitter tightly to her lower calf. 

“Thank you,” she said, completing the knot. “I… I’ve told Anakin that the biggest problem with the galaxy is that people don’t help each other, but…” She gave Ahsoka a small smile. “I don’t know if he’ll ever believe me after this.”

With that, she walked over to Anakin and picked him up, hugging him tightly. Ahsoka watched Anakin and Shmi, allowing herself to feel this moment of pure satisfaction. Sure, she’d made things a lot harder for herself, and she’d probably meddled with the timeline somehow, but it was very, very worth any and all future consequences.

Speaking of which…

Ahsoka looked across the room to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, who were standing in the doorway, watching impassively. They made a funny contrast with Padmé, who beamed at the scene from the corner of the room. It was just an act on Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s part, of course. She could sense the pleasure in their Force-presences at the scene before them. They may have been suspicious of her, but they were Jedi. They weren’t going to turn up their noses at a liberation. It was just that they had… additional concerns. She walked over to them, joining them in a rather crowded doorway.

“He is a unique talent,” Qui-Gon said. “I see potential in him. That was why I wanted to free him and his mother.”

Ahsoka looked straight ahead. “And what were you going to do if you lost the bet?”

“I had faith in Anakin’s abilities,” he said, his voice quiet. 

“Lot of faith to place in a child.”

“He’s far from an ordinary child.”

“If I’m going to gamble, I like to gamble on myself.” 

Qui-Gon didn’t reply to that, but Obi-Wan, standing on her other side, shrugged. “She has a point there, Master.” 

What Ahsoka didn’t say was that gambling on herself wasn’t just a turn of phrase, it was her actual survival tactic from the days of the Empire when there really was only one person she could fully trust—herself. Even the people closest to her could betray her, if the Empire found sufficiently coercive methods. It just felt like plain bad planning to pin all their hopes on something as unsure as a race. And from the look Padmé was giving Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan as she listened to their conversation, she agreed with Ahsoka.

“Seems you have trouble trusting other people, Master Tano,” Qui-Gon said reflectively. “Living through the Republic Dark Age would certainly justify that.”

Ahsoka let out a snort that she hoped sounded derisive. “Is that what it’s called now?” 

“What would you call it?”

“The worst kriffing time to be alive ever.” 

Qui-Gon nodded but didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned and walked out, motioning for Ahsoka and Obi-Wan to follow. 

“I, strange as it might sound, find myself beginning to believe that story, Master Tano,” he said when they were outside. “At the very least, I believe it enough to hold off further suspicion until the Council can speak with you.”

“What does the Council look like now?”

“What did the Council look like in your day?” 

Kriff. Ahsoka racked her brains. Her recall of history lessons at the Temple were fuzzy at best. “Twelve members. Although everything was so fucked up and Jedi died so quickly that it was hard to remember who was on the Council at any given point.”

“A correct answer. But also a safe one.” 

Ahsoka tried to keep herself calm. “Yup.”

“The Council still has twelve members, of course,” Qui-Gon said. “Tradition holds strong with the Order.” 

Believe me, I know, Ahsoka thought. 

“Time travel is supposed to be impossible, as my astute apprentice pointed out,” Qui-Gon continued. “But… the Force works in mysterious ways.” He trailed off.

Ahsoka stayed silent, wondering if this was about to really work.

“It’ll do for now. If you’re lying, it’s not to hide malicious aims from us. You wouldn’t lie so outlandishly if you desired to appear innocuous. You would’ve gone with a much safer cover story.”

Ahsoka said a silent thank-you to Anakin for his lying advice. “Now what, then?” she asked.

“We help Anakin get ready for his podrace. We still need a hyperdrive.”

Later

Ahsoka sat on top of the Skywalkers’ hut with her knees tucked up to her chest, still as stone.  The stars glittered above, but her eyes were on something much more terrestrial. Anakin’s podracer sat in the dusty courtyard below, and he was bent over one of the engines, oblivious to her presence. His small form was illuminated only by the light of a small lantern and the occasional spark of electricity from a shorting cable in the engine.

Ahsoka had done the right thing, kept Anakin on track to leave the planet. And he would win the race tomorrow, she knew he would. And then what?

The Anakin she loved like a brother was gone, but she couldn’t just leave this Anakin. She wanted to protect him. She owed it to her time’s Anakin, the one who she couldn’t protect. But how was she supposed to help Anakin when she wasn’t sure how much she should be around him? She knew the Jedi had been reluctant to let Anakin be trained, until something had changed after Qui-Gon’s death, and then suddenly he was Obi-Wan’s Padawan. It sounded delicate. Too delicate for her to involve herself in. She couldn’t risk Anakin getting rejected for good. Anakin was supposed to become Obi-Wan’s apprentice, and then… and then… And then what? She didn’t know much about the early years of Anakin’s apprenticeship—most of his stories came from later on, closer to the Clone Wars.

A door opened directly beneath her, interrupting her thoughts. She looked down to see Qui-Gon exiting, his backside illuminated by the lights from inside. He surveyed the darkness for a moment and then called out to Anakin, who ran over. They had a short conversation, and then Qui-Gon began doing something to Anakin’s arm as they talked. 

Ahsoka squinted, and then realized with a start that Qui-Gon was testing Anakin for midichlorians. Adult Anakin had mentioned that to her. He mostly just remembered being poked with a sharp stick without warning. She smiled. It seemed that things were going the way they should be again. 

But then another thought stirred deep in her head. Was it… a good thing that things were happening the way they had before? After all, this was the path that led to the Empire, to the death or disappearance of everyone she knew, to the clones—Force, the clones, what was she going to do about the clones and the inhibitor chips?

She couldn’t stop the sudden wave of panic rising in her. If she remembered right, the clones had begun production ten years before the start of the Clone Wars, which was— right now was ten years before the Clone Wars, the clones might already be in production, which meant that the murder of all the Jedi was already in motion—

She half-rose to her feet, almost hyperventilating, and then remembered that there was absolutely nothing she could do right now. She sunk back down as Qui-Gon pocketed the blood sample.

Qui-Gon, and she had to consider Qui-Gon, he was supposed to die but no way in hell was she going to let Obi-Wan’s master die, nobody deserved to lose their master— 

“Have you seen Ahsoka?” Qui-Gon asked.

“No,” Anakin replied as Ahsoka tried to quell her thoughts again.

“Hm.” Qui-Gon straightened his poncho and glanced around idly. “I suppose she’s alone somewhere. She’s got plenty on her mind, that’s for sure.” He stood up, patting Anakin on the shoulder. “Get some sleep. You need it.” 

With that, he headed back inside, and Ahsoka let herself start panicking again. She had to save the galaxy. What was she supposed to do, what was she supposed to do, what was she supposed to DO—

“Miss Ahsoka, if you want to work on my podracer, you can come down and help me finish this coupling.”

She froze and looked down. Anakin was staring directly at her. 

After a few moments, she rose to her feet and flipped down from the roof, landing next to him. She did want to work on the podracer, actually, and concentrate on something else besides the crushing awareness of the future.

“Thank you,” she said as Anakin handed her a hydrospanner. “You didn’t have to lie to Qui-Gon about me.”

“I didn’t lie, because I didn’t see you.” 

“Then how…?”

Anakin shrugged. “I just knew you were there.” 

Oh. 

“But you could’ve told him I was here. I wasn’t hiding.”

“But you didn’t want him to find you,” he said, climbing back into the machine, and Ahsoka found herself unnerved by just how much he seemed to know sometimes. He was so strong in the Force already, and he was just a child. 

“Is Mister Qui-Gon your friend?” he asked, his voice muffled by the forest of tubes and wires surrounding him.

“I hope so,” Ahsoka said after a moment. 

“He seems nice.” 

“What about Obi-Wan? Does he seem nice?” 

“Kinda. I haven’t really talked to him.” 

That made sense. Ahsoka remembered Adult Anakin telling her that Qui-Gon had wanted to train him originally, and… It hit her that if she was going to save Qui-Gon’s life, he’d train Anakin. Why was that so disturbing to her?

Anakin extricated himself. “Can you sit on the engine?”

“Hm?”

“I need to cut out this part, but it got bent really far up in my last crash. If you sit there,” he said, pointing to a dented panel on the top of the engine, “It’ll push it back and I can cut it out.” 

“Okay.” Ahsoka hopped on top of the engine and centered over the problem spot, listening to the sound of Anakin cutting away. She briefly wondered if a nine-year-old should be handling an angle grinder, before deciding that she probably couldn’t stop him. 

What exactly was she afraid of if Qui-Gon trained him? If that happened, it’d mean entering unpredictable territory. And she was definitely afraid of the unpredictable. The more things changed, the less she would be able to stop them. 

“Got it!” Anakin jumped back, holding a twisted piece of metal and wiping soot marks off his face. He bent down, switching it out with a considerably shinier-looking part on the ground, and held out his hand, looking expectantly at Ahsoka. “Hydrospanner, please.”

Ahsoka handed it over. Several clicking noises later, Anakin backed out again and surveyed the engine, patting it. “All set!” 

Ahsoka smiled and was about to jump down to the ground when Anakin spoke again. “What was Mister Qui-Gon doing?”

“Hm?” 

“He said he’s checking my blood, but I don’t feel sick.” 

“Sometimes the germs are there before you feel sick.”

“He didn’t test Mom.”

Ahsoka paused. She didn’t like lying to Anakin, but telling the truth would change things. 

…What was so bad about the future losing its predictability? It wasn’t like the predictable future was much better. The series of events that she was so worried about diverging from had led to nothing but disaster and sorrow. So with that in mind, she threw caution to the wind. 

“He was testing your blood for something,” she said, patting the space on the engine next to her, inviting Anakin to sit. “Have you ever heard of midichlorians?”

“No,” Anakin said, clambering up to join her. 

“They’re microscopic organisms that live in the blood of people who are Force-sensitive. Do you know what the Force is?”

Anakin shook his head, his eyes wide. 

“The Force is an energy that encompasses all living things. It’s in all of us.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. You, me, your mother, Padmé, your friends.”

“What does it do?”

“Most of the time, not much. It’s just there. But sometimes, when there’s a lot of it, things happen that couldn’t happen otherwise. Midichlorians like to gather where the Force gathers. They’re attracted to it. If a planet is rich in the Force, the creatures there are usually really big and strange.”

“Big as banthas?”

“Bigger. Much bigger.” Ahsoka thought back to Felucia, a planet she never wanted to go back to, and the enormous beasts they’d encountered in the jungle. 

“Wizard,” Anakin breathed. “I want to ride them.”

Ahsoka had to resist the urge to burst into laughter. What a perfectly Anakin thing for him to say. “Being a podracer isn’t enough for you?” she said, nudging his shoulder gently. 

“I want to ride everything,” Anakin said proudly, gazing up to the stars. “All the animals and all the starships. Is the Force in starships too?” 

“Huh.” Ahsoka had to think about that. She’d met some ships that sure did have minds of their own, minds of their own beyond what could be explained by simple mechanical unreliability or electrical gremlins. Ships that flew better if you took the time to be nice to them, ships that you could have a conversation with just by talking to their engines. Ships that behaved like beasts and ships that behaved like people. “Sort of,” she said finally. “They aren’t normally living things, but sometimes, if someone spends enough time around a ship, gives it enough meaning… the Force starts gathering around it too.” How else was she supposed to explain the Twilight acting the way it did?

“I want to fly a ship that does that,” Anakin breathed. 

“The Force gathers around lots of things. People too. Do you know what happens when it gathers around people?” 

“Nope.”

“They can become Force-sensitive. Which means they can feel the Force. They can see where it is, and if the Force gathers around them powerfully enough, they can control the Force. It lets us move things with our mind, sense other people’s emotions, and…” She trailed off, not sure how much she should say, lest she get Anakin’s hopes up. “It can make you faster than you should be, or able to react before anyone else can, or—”

“Jedi reflexes!” Anakin said.

“Yes! You got it!”

Anakin giggled at her enthusiasm.  

“All Jedi are Force-sensitive,” Ahsoka continued. “That’s why we’re such good fighters.”

“I bet!” Anakin scrunched up his face in thought. “So if Mister Qui-Gon was testing me for midichlorians, does that mean… he thinks I can use the Force?”

“Oh, he knows already,” Ahsoka said, waving her hand. “Force users can usually sense when someone else is Force-sensitive. He’s just getting the midichlorian count to make absolutely sure.”

“Sure of what?”

“If you have a lot of midichlorians, that’s proof that you’re Force-sensitive. To prove it to other people.”

“Oh.” Anakin blinked. “Who’s other people? Why does he need to know? I—” He stopped abruptly, gazing up at her. “Am I Force-sensitive?” 

Ahsoka looked skyward, tracking the red light of an orbiting ship transport far above. Force help me, she thought. I can’t leave him in the dark about this, but I can’t get ahead of Qui-Gon on this. 

Screw this, she decided after a moment. Qui-Gon’s known Anakin for less than a week and he tried to leverage Anakin’s freedom for a bet. I think I’m allowed to be a step ahead of him. 

“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes. 

Anakin sucked in a fast, excited breath, sitting stock-still and hanging on her every word.

“Does that mean I’m a Jedi?”

“Not all people who are Force-sensitive are Jedi.”

“Oh.” 

The door to the hut opened, casting a blaze of light on Ahsoka and Anakin and revealing Shmi.

“Ani, bedtime,” she called. 

“But I want to stay up—” 

“There’s nothing left to do with the podracer that can’t be done tomorrow morning before the race.”

“I want to keep talking to Ahsoka!”

Shmi’s expression softened, and she stepped out. “I’m sure you would talk to her all night long if you could,” she said finally. “But she’ll be here to talk to you again.” Her eyes flicked to Ahsoka. “Right?”

“Right,” Ahsoka said immediately.

That finally convinced Anakin to go in, and he slid off the podracer’s side, rambling excitedly to Shmi as she herded him in. Shmi gave Ahsoka a thankful nod before shutting the door behind her, and then all was quiet.

Ahsoka stayed where she was. What a strange, yet fun conversation. In some ways, it was just like talking to the old Anakin, but for the most part, it was like talking to a complete stranger. And that was almost… relieving to her. It would’ve been hard to make friends with the same person all over again. 

After the podrace

Ahsoka still thought that Qui-Gon’s plan was stupid, but in the one small fraction of credit she was willing to give him for this, she couldn’t ever deny that Anakin was a damn good podracer. The brand-new hyperdrive affixed to their ship bore testimony to that fact. In just a few minutes, they’d be heading for Coruscant. And as far as she could recall, the voyage back to Coruscant was smooth sailing after the podrace.  

What wasn’t smooth sailing, however, was the dewback she was riding on. Force, this thing was an unstable ride. She was relying on all her Force powers to not topple off this creature. Qui-Gon, riding next to her, was making it look infuriatingly easy.

“What did you tell him last night?” Qui-Gon said, his tone half-questioning and half-admiring. “I saw you talking to him after I went in.”

“We talked about the Force,” Ahsoka said noncommittally. She gently slapped the side of her dewback, pushing him to pick up a little speed. Anakin and Shmi were riding ahead on their own dewback, and Obi-Wan was bringing up the rear. 

“Talking about the Force pushed Anakin to win the Boonta Eve Classic by the largest margin of victory in the race’s history?”

“Did he really win by that much?” 

“Watto informed me of that factoid in the middle of an accusation of race-fixing.”

“I hope you told him to get lost,” Ahsoka said. 

“Unfortunately, I had to be a bit more diplomatic than that.”

They both chuckled at that, and Ahsoka found herself remembering that Qui-Gon was very much part of her lineage.

She opened her mouth to ask him what he’d actually said, but then a ripple in the Force caught her attention. She frowned, pulling her dewback up. 

Qui-Gon noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Ahsoka wondered for a moment if it was that strange dark presence she’d detected days ago (it had slowly faded, but she got the feeling it was still lurking somewhere), but no, the Force was whispering about something else. She slid off her mount, looking back in the direction of the settlement. Yes, there was definitely a thrum in the Force that meant… trouble. Big trouble, Ahsoka decided, as a cloud of dust became apparent behind them.

“What is that?” Qui-Gon said, hopping off his dewback. 

Moments later, he was answered when a mass of villagers rushed over the nearest dune. Ahsoka had one, two, three seconds to digest that most of them had some sort of ragtag armor and all of them had blasters before she heard Watto’s grating voice shouting, 

“THERE SHE IS! SHE’S THE ONE TRYING TO FREE OUR SLAVES!”

A hail of blaster fire lit up the air around them. Ahsoka cursed loud and long and went for her lightsabers, only to remember that she still hadn’t gotten them back. She ducked down to the ground and crawled over to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, who were side-by-side and deflecting blaster shots. 

“Get Anakin and Shmi to the ship!” she shouted, jerking back just before a shot hissed through the exact space her head had been occupying. “I can hold them off by myself! It’s me they want, after all!”

“It’s a small, undisciplined party,” Qui-Gon said between deflections. “And they’re on foot. As long as we stay between them and Anakin and Shmi—”

A distant whinny interrupted him, and then three riders on eopies crested the dune, pausing briefly to survey the battlescape below before breaking into a dead charge towards the three Jedi.

“You were saying?” Ahsoka said. 

Qui-Gon muttered something under his breath. Then, more loudly, “I’m putting a great deal of trust in your abilities!” he said, before nodding to Obi-Wan. Together, they unhitched Ahsoka’s lightsabers from her belts and tossed them to her. 

Ahsoka caught them, and the two raced towards Anakin and Shmi, catching up to their slow-moving dewback just before the villagers on eopies got to them, forcing them to break off the attack and regroup farther away. Satisfied that Anakin and Shmi were safe, Ahsoka turned her attention to holding back the villagers on foot. 

She ignited her lightsabers, and the hilts came alive in her hands, thrumming with energy that resonated through her body. She smiled, taking one microsecond to relish the feeling of having them both back in her possession, and jumped to her feet, swinging.

These weren’t exactly skilled marksmen, but kriffing hell, they had a lot of guns. She considered for a moment whether or not she should worry about killing them, and then she considered that they were slavers who were shooting at her and she would be perfectly justified in some active self-defense. But then she considered that although she might get away unscathed, the slaves in the village might have to deal with the rage of their masters if one of the slaveowners got killed out here. So she stuck to deflecting shots into the sand.

She blocked a shot that would’ve hit her right in the heart, dodged another that came inches from her face, and glanced over her shoulder to see Obi-Wan Force-shoving one of the armed riders off their eopie, while further ahead Qui-Gon was urging Anakin and Shmi’s dewback over the next rise. Ahsoka allowed herself a small sigh of relief because she knew that they were safe for now, and turned her attention back to the attackers just in time for the Force to scream a warning. 

She dove backwards on sheer instinct, and a glowing blue blaster bolt sailed just past her, slamming into the sand twenty meters away and sending up a burst of flame and a massive shower of molten sand. 

Ahsoka didn’t even have time to stare as she scrambled sideways, looking around wildly for her attacker. That was not a normal plasma bolt—

Her montrals picked up shapes on the dune to her right, and she turned just in time to see a new group of armored figures coming up over the horizon, led by a figure in burnt-orange clothes carrying an enormous sniper rifle.

Ahsoka would’ve frozen, if she could afford to freeze right now. She recognized that bright white skin and the oversized ponytail. 

Aurra Sing.

Sing turned and fired a shot over the heads of the villagers, which caused them to momentarily stop firing. Ahsoka stayed still, taking deep breaths. She brushed a hand over her forearm where the shot had barely missed her, and felt a thin line of charred skin. 

“Greetings, Jedi,” Sing called out to her. “Jabba sends his thanks for killing the dragon. He also sends his thanks for the lightsabers.”

Ahsoka’s grip tightened, and her eyes slid sideways to a tall dune not far away. “I never gave him any lightsabers.”

“You will now, as payment for disturbing his beauty sleep. Along with your life.”

Ahsoka considered for a moment, that maybe, she should’ve just trusted that Qui-Gon knew what he was doing and let his plans play out instead of barging ahead with ideas that were directly responsible for getting her into this predicament. 

To hell with that. 

“Come and get them!” she yelled, raising them over her head. 

Ahsoka could see the smirk on Sing’s face even from fifty meters away.

“With pleasure.” 

She turned to the villagers, who were still standing by, unsure of how to proceed in the face of Hutt authority. “If someone besides me kills her, you’ll get a case of Jabba’s finest rum!”

That sent the villagers into a screaming frenzy, and they jumped around for a few seconds, whooping and waving their rifles in a positively Tusken-esque manner, before breaking into a chaotic mass run towards Ahsoka.

Well, at least she’d succeeded in drawing all the attention away from Anakin and Shmi. She took off in a sprint, dodging and weaving between not just the haphazard fire of the villagers but much more pinpoint shots from the bounty hunters, which meant that she was going sideways as much as she was going forward, relying on nothing but the Force to tell her where to swing her lightsabers, and it was lighting up in pinpricks all over her body, so many spots that if she’d had only one saber she would’ve gone down a minute ago.

Finally, she got to the dune, and she threw herself over it, tucking and rolling as a rain of shots breezed overhead, along with a rocket— 

She gathered the Force around herself, focusing her senses. The others were probably almost to the ship now, so she just had to hold out for a few more minutes until they could rescue her. 

The dune shook, presumably due to another rocket slamming into it, sending a rain of sand down on Ahsoka. 

“Nothing for it,” she muttered to herself, and was about to rush out from cover when the Force stabbed painfully in her chest. She pulled back, gasping, and spun in a circle, finding nothing. What—?

The dark presence. It was back, and it was exploding into her awareness, fully tangible in the Force now. Something, some barely controlled wave of rage and hatred and malevolence was coming closer and closer. 

And Ahsoka still didn’t know why it felt familiar.

She was about to jump out from behind cover and face her foe when she realized it was coming up behind her other opponents. Maybe… She chose to stay down.

For her delay, she was rewarded with a confused murmur that quickly turned into angry shouts, and then panicked screams. Although the sound of blaster fire did not lessen, the number of blaster bolts above her head lessened and then stopped entirely.

Ahsoka could sense the darkness whirling through the desert, and although she couldn’t see it, she knew perfectly well what was happening from the way the Force roiled and flared. She dug herself into the side of the dune. 

An explosion. Another explosion. The screaming was getting quieter, the fire less rapid. The roar of a jetpack rocked Ahsoka’s ears—immediately followed by Aurra Sing flying rapidly overhead, flanked by two bounty hunters. She didn’t seem to register Ahsoka below, instead flying straight for the horizon, not even slowing to fire a shot behind her. Ahsoka watched them disappear. There had been five bounty hunters with Sing when she showed up.

And then the desert was quiet again.

The dark presence was not moving. Waiting. Where was the ship?

It took a single step towards her, and Ahsoka decided to act. She rose to her feet, stepping out from behind the dune. 

Bodies laid scattered throughout the desert, limbs and heads separated from bodies, hands still clutching smoking weapons. Almost directly in front of Ahsoka was Watto’s lumpy blue body, now dismembered, his wings still twitching. She stepped around him.

It was a hideous scene, but she wasn’t going to waste time mourning slavers. In the center of the carnage, a lone hooded figure stood. It carried a red double-bladed lightsaber with brilliant red blades. It was staring directly at Ahsoka when she emerged. As soon as it saw her, it reached up, lowering its hood, and—

Ahsoka stared. 

“Maul?”

Oh, kriff, had she just said that aloud? She had to stop doing that.

Although his posture never changed, Maul’s face lapsed into unabated surprise for just a moment. He was younger, the spikes on his head smaller and the tattoos a bit sharper, and he was considerably less mechanical, but this was undoubtedly Darth Maul. The surprise quickly vanished, replaced by a wicked sneer, and he leapt at Ahsoka without a word. 

Ahsoka brought up her blades to meet his swing, and almost staggered under the force of his first blow, forcing her to flip backwards, barely avoiding the tip of his blade as he stabbed it at her back. When she landed, she tried to slash at his ankles, only to be denied with a vicious parry, forcing her to retreat yet again.

She kept backing up, regaining her footing. She’d expected this Maul to be stronger than the one she fought on Mandalore, and… Yes. He was. She understood why Palpatine had picked him as an apprentice now. 

When Maul swung again, she was ready, settled in the hard desert sand; his swing pushed her almost to one knee, but she shoved back, the saberlock bringing them almost face-to-face… almost face-to-face because she had a good few inches on him. He glowered at her.

She remembered Maul as someone with an astonishing lack of emotional stability, quite prone to losing focus via outburst of anger, so maybe this was worth a shot—

“Aren’t you a little short to be a Sith?” she said.

Maul growled and pushed hard in a burst of Dark Side energy, sending Ahsoka flying backwards. She landed on her feet and met his next swing, parrying and almost getting in a swipe at his midsection as he sidestepped.

Hang on. That felt familiar.

As Maul turned his sidestep into his next attack, Ahsoka took a gamble. Probably too much of a gamble for someone fighting alone in the desert, but she had a feeling. She swung for a place that would’ve made absolutely no sense for a strike to someone who hadn’t fought him before. It should’ve killed her.

And yet, it caught Maul completely off-guard. He had to abandon his attack, make an off-balance block, and retreat. He glared at Ahsoka for just a moment and then charged again. However, just as they started to clash again, at long last, the sound of ship’s engines reached her ears, and she glanced sideways to see the Queen’s ship flying low and slow over the desert towards her. Summoning a burst of Force energy, she sent Maul flying backwards and ran for the ship, where a boarding ramp was already lowered for her. She took a flying leap, landed safely, and the ship began climbing immediately.

Maul stood motionless on the dunes, watching her escape without turning off his lightsaber.  Ahsoka stared at his shrinking form, and finally, lying on the ramp, she burst out laughing. 

In the ten-plus years between Tatooine and Mandalore, Maul’s fighting style had not changed one bit. 

The ramp hissed, lifting her up into the belly of the ship, where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were staring in disbelief, not at her, but beyond her, toward the spot of desert where she’d fought Maul. Anakin came running in a few seconds later, practically dragging Shmi with him, his eyes wide with worry. 

Ahsoka looked up at them. Her plan was to wait for the Jedi to say something, but at the last moment something occurred to her that would do a great deal for her cover story. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, lacing her tone with artificial bafflement. “I thought you said the Sith were extinct?”

Chapter Text

After days of heat, the inside of Padmé’s ship was heavenly to Ahsoka. She’d draped herself over a couch as she explained the encounter with Maul to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, leaving out the part about her knowing him already. 

Qui-Gon leaned forward, folding his hands together. “You’re sure he was a Sith?” 

“I fought a few of them in my time,” Ahsoka said, which was… kind of true thanks to Ventress, Maul, and the inquisitors. “Glowing yellow eyes, red lightsaber, Force presence practically on fire with hatred, the fact that he massacred nearly everyone who was standing in his way…”

Qui-Gon winced. “I see what you mean.”

“He… he just felt like a Sith.” The Jedi had underestimated Darth Maul before Qui-Gon’s death, and it had occurred to Ahsoka that she might save his life by convincing them sooner that he was a serious threat. 

“Hm.” Qui-Gon rubbed his beard, and then shrugged. “I’ll trust your judgment on this one.”

“Really. That’s a welcome change of pace.”

“Well, you claim to be from a time when there were quite a lot of Sith running around the galaxy,” Qui-Gon said. “And you’ve certainly acquitted yourself quite well to us.” He glanced at Obi-Wan, who nodded. “Safe to say, we won’t be taking custody of your lightsabers again.”

Ahsoka nodded, patting the spots in her boots where she’d already tucked them back in. She hadn’t been planning on giving them up again, but the confirmation was nice. Then, she realized something Qui-Gon had said. 

“You believe that I’m from the past?”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “I am keeping an open mind. The Force works in mysterious ways.”

Well, that was progress, at least.

“I do have to ask, why don’t you keep your lightsabers on your belt?” 

“It’s harder for them to get stolen that way.”

“Ah.” Qui-Gon leaned back. “Hidden lightsabers, a duel-wielder, white blades… You certainly have peculiar methods, Master Tano. But I cannot argue with the results. Anakin and Shmi may not have made it to the ship without your rearguard.” 

Ahsoka nodded. “I tried my best.”

“Of course, that rearguard was only necessary because you antagonized every slaveowner in the village and also Jabba the Hutt himself.”

Ahsoka almost got her hackles up, but then she saw the slight smile on Qui-Gon’s face and realized that he was joking. 

“I stand by my decision,” she said. “Your plan was terrible.” 

Before Qui-Gon could reply, Padmé entered the room with a tray of drinks. “The Queen agrees with Master Tano’s course of action,” she said, offering the tray to Ahsoka and giving Qui-Gon a dignified yet hawkish stare.

“I’m sure she does,” Ahsoka said, barely fighting down a smile as she took a drink. “The Queen is an incredibly intelligent woman, after all, who would pick the obviously correct choice in this situation.”

To Padmé’s credit, she only twitched very slightly as she turned and offered a drink to Obi-Wan. After that, she gave them a polite bow and exited. 

“I see you’ve figured out the Queen’s identity,” Qui-Gon said when she was gone, his tone saturated with mirth. “I also see that she didn’t offer me a drink.”

Ahsoka turned down a side hallway in the spaceship, only to find a dead end leading to a viewport. The only person here was Jar Jar, asleep in a chair and snoring rhythmically. She sighed and turned around, heading for the main chamber. She’d been looking for Artoo for ten minutes without success. She’d been hoping to find him by herself, but it was looking like she’d have to ask a crewmember. Discreetly.

However, coming back into the main chamber, her attention was diverted by two people who hadn’t been there last time: Anakin and Shmi. A mound of blankets had been piled on Anakin as he laid on one of the couches, resting his head in Shmi’s lap. Shmi was slowly running her fingers through Anakin’s hair. 

Ahsoka smiled at the sight. “How are you two doing?” 

Anakin gave her a sleepy smile as he cuddled deeper into the makeshift bed. “Padmé helped Mom find some blankets for us. They’re the fluffiest things ever!”

“I forgot how cold space can be,” Shmi said. After a moment, she added, “This is my first time offworld in decades.”

“Mhm. I didn’t go in space for a long time as a Jedi youngling,” Ahsoka said. “When I finally did go, it surprised me.”

That got Anakin’s full attention. He sat up, staring at her. “Qui-Gon says that I’m going to become a Jedi.”

Ahsoka nodded, trying to look appropriately surprised. “Really? That’s wonderful!” 

“He was surprised to hear that you’d already told him he was Force-sensitive,” Shmi said, giving her a meaningful look. 

Anakin pulled one of the blankets up to his face so that only his nose and eyes were peeking out. “Do you think I can be a Jedi?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled by the cloth.

“You’re already doing the most important thing that a Jedi needs to do. You’re helping people. You helped us get offworld.”

Anakin squinted in thought. “Helping people? I thought the most important Jedi thing was swinging your laser sword.” 

Ahsoka let out a small laugh. Some things about Anakin never changed. “Nope,” she said, reaching down and giving him a playful tap on the nose. “It might be the most fun, but sometimes what’s fun isn’t the same as what’s important.”

Anakin nodded, drinking in her words. He didn’t ask any more questions, but he curled up, pulling himself closer to Shmi. His Force-presence fluttered a bit, suddenly restless. Ahsoka reached out with a gentle tendril of connection, just to see what he was feeling, and found… fear. Not a lot, but…

“Are you afraid?”

Anakin nodded slowly. “Little bit.”

“Don’t worry. That’s normal. You’re going to a new planet for the first time ever. An entirely new life. You don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s okay to be afraid of things you don’t know.”

“Mhm.”

“The Jedi don’t like fear. They think it can control us. Force us to make bad decisions that hurt other people because we’re so caught up in the fear that we’d do anything to make it go away.”

Anakin scrunched up his face. “I’m not that afraid.”

“That’s awesome!” Ahsoka said. “You’re doing great! But… I say this because… You shouldn’t worry about what the Jedi would think about fear. Because they don’t like fear, some Jedi think that means you should hide your fear and never tell anyone about it… And that’s wrong. Because a really good way to get rid of fear is by telling other people about it.”

Ahsoka may have been telling this to Anakin, but honestly, there was another Jedi she’d known once that she wished she could give this advice to even more. 

“And when you feel fear, there’s always something you can do about it before you get to the point that you’d do something terrible. That’s one way.” 

Green skin, diamond-patterned tattoos, and a desperate, sorrowful expression flashed through her mind. Barriss, this time around, I hope I can tell you this before it’s too late.

Ahsoka had been blinded by fear of the Empire once, fear of Vader, until she remembered that there was something she could do about it.

Anakin nodded. “I just talked about my fear.”

“Did it help?”

“Little bit.” 

Ahsoka smiled. “You’re doing great.”

Anakin smiled back, and she felt his Force presence settle again. He didn’t ask any more questions after that, and soon his eyelids began to droop. In minutes, he was fast asleep, Shmi still combing her fingers through his hair. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve heard the Jedi are trained from birth,” Shmi said, looking up at Ahsoka. “Will that be a problem for Anakin?”

Ahsoka sighed internally. “You’re kind of right, and I don’t know. The Jedi are usually strict about it, but… I think they’ll make an exception for Anakin.”

“And if they don’t?”

Ahsoka hesitated, thinking of Qui-Gon’s faith in Anakin, remembering how Obi-Wan had immediately taken on Anakin as an apprentice in her timeline…

“He’ll be trained. I promise that.”

Shmi nodded. She didn’t look particularly surprised by the promise. “I know he’ll have good guidance.” She was looking directly into Ahsoka’s eyes as she said that, and it felt as if she was staring into her soul.

“I noticed something,” Shmi said abruptly. “Obi-Wan addresses Qui-Gon as Master, and they both address you as Master.”

Ahsoka waited for Shmi to say more, only to realize that was all. Clearly, she expected some sort of response, but…

Oh. 

How had that never occurred to her? Had that occurred to Obi-Wan? How had Anakin felt the first time Ahsoka called him Master? Why hadn’t he ever said anything about it? 

“You should talk to Qui-Gon about that first,” she said carefully. “He’s the one who wants to train him. Using ‘Master’ as an address is Jedi custom, meaning master of a discipline, but… I think that should go out the window in this case.”

Shmi nodded. “I will.” She leaned down to pull a slipping blanket back over Anakin’s shoulders. “Why would Qui-Gon Jinn train him, and not you?”

Ahsoka froze, then slowly lifted her gaze to meet Shmi’s. “Because…” She trailed off, unsure of how to explain that this was how things were supposed to go. She had a feeling that Shmi wouldn’t accept that. 

“I think he would be better qualified to train Anakin than I am,” she said finally, hoping that was enough.

“Mhm.” Shmi glanced away, and Ahsoka knew that answer hadn’t been enough. 

Suddenly, she heard a familiar bloop and turned to see Artoo trundling through the room, away from the cockpit. She jumped to her feet, almost grateful for the distraction.

“I’m sorry, I need to talk to this astromech—be right back.” 

Shmi nodded. “We’ll be here.”

Ahsoka gave a grateful tilt of her head and dashed after Artoo, catching him just before he got to the droid lift. 

“Artoo! Er—R2-D2!” she said, not sure how to address him and also feeling utterly ridiculous for calling him by his full name. 

He turned and gave her a questioning whistle. 

Ahsoka glanced around. “Look, I need to tell you a secret, and it might sound crazy—is there somewhere more private we can talk?”

Artoo let out an excited series of beeps and turned, rolling away while spinning his dome, indicating for her to follow. 

She did. Even if Artoo had no idea who she was, at least he still had the same thirst for adventure and chaos that he’d always had. Which was what she was counting on. 

He led her to a small storage room which had been locked when Ahsoka tried it earlier, but now he unlocked it and ushered her inside. Once the door was shut behind them, he flashed a light questioningly.

“Can you keep a secret?” she asked. 

Artoo beeped an eager affirmative, which was thankfully what she’d expected.

“Okay.” Ahsoka sat down on a stack of cleaning supplies and took a deep breath. “I’m a time traveler from the future, and the galaxy’s going to fall apart unless I do something to stop it, but if I tell anyone I’m from the future, they’re going to get suspicious and they won’t believe me, and I need a cover story to explain why a powerful Force user just showed up out of nowhere, so I need your help making a cover story.”

This stream of information would’ve been utterly incomprehensible to any organic being, but a wonderful thing about Artoo was that he could make sense of a lot of things that organics couldn’t. Ahsoka watched as he tilted back and forth, processing the information with a few confused beeps.

Beeeeeep!

Ahsoka relaxed at his eager tone. “Oh, thank the Force.” Of all the people to tell about this, Artoo was the one most likely to believe her, but she’d still worried a little bit about telling him. That worry was gone now.

Bleep?

Ahsoka couldn’t help but giggle at the question. “Yes, I knew you in my future! You were a really good friend for years and years… That’s why I sought you out…”

Arto made a little pipping noise, and then he rolled forward, gently bonking her knee. It took Ahsoka a second to realize that he was giving her one of his signature gestures of affection. 

“...Thank you,” she said, patting his dome. “I know it must be strange for you, but you can help me. I need to convince people that I’m from the past, not the future.”

Artoo whistled sharply, informing her that he thought this was a terrible idea. 

“Can you think of anything better?”

Silence.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. So I need you to do me a favor. If I’m going to make my cover story stick when the Jedi Council questions me, I need to pick up some knowledge that only they would know. So… When we get to Coruscant, I want you to go into the Jedi Temple archives and steal a holocron.”

Artoo was silent for so long after that that Ahsoka wondered if she’d actually caused him to crash, but then he made a loud, incredulous blat that needed no translation.

“Yeah, I know, but here’s the thing: No one will pay attention to you, because you’re a droid, and besides, I have security credentials that will get you into the archives.” 

Artoo only sounded slightly less doubtful as he asked his next question.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ahsoka said. “If you get caught, you have permission to blame everything on me.”

Beep. Bloooop?

“Okay, so… I need you to find a holocron about the Great Galactic War.”

Beedleoop?

“What do you mean, which Great Galactic War? Wasn’t there just one? Okay, it’s the one where Coruscant was sacked.”

Beedle-whee.

“That’s happened three different times?”  

Bloop.

“Okay, um…” Ahsoka ransacked her brains for a date. “The one I’m thinking of was… around three and a half thousand years ago. More than that, actually, but I’m not sure how much more.”

 Artoo blipped happily and announced he’d figured out which war Ahsoka was talking about. 

“Wonderful. Okay, here’s the credentials.” Ahsoka tapped them into his keypad. 

Artoo asked why she had the Jedi login credentials for Obi-Wan Kenobi despite only having met him a few days ago.

“He was another very good friend of mine in the future,” Ahsoka said. What she didn’t say was that she wasn’t even supposed to have those credentials in the future—Anakin had ‘stumbled upon them’ and given them to Ahsoka too, telling her to use them if she ever needed to do something in the archives that wasn’t quite aboveground.

Blipbip?

“Of course I’m going to give it back! I just need it for a little bit of time.” 

Artoo made a satisfied hum and turned to leave, before spinning around and asking one last question.

“Yes, actually.” Ahsoka suddenly had to blink back tears. “Thank you.” She leaned down and wrapped her arms around Artoo, hugging him as tightly as she could. “You were such a good friend. It feels so good that I can tell even just one person what’s going on.” 

But even as she said that, a part of her deep inside mourned, fully aware that this was also a reminder of how many people she couldn’t tell.

It had been so long since Ahsoka had visited Coruscant. And as the ship descended towards the twinkling planet surface, she knew she was going to have trouble holding herself together. She could already sense the glowing beacon of Force energy that was the Jedi Temple.

“Okay, Artoo,” she whispered, patting him. “You know the plan. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” With that, she turned and joined the rest of the group as they prepared to disembark. Artoo followed behind, keeping a short distance.

“— And after you meet with Valorum, hopefully his emergency session will be enough to rally the senate to send aid to Naboo,” Qui-Gon was saying. “With him and Senator Palpatine—”

Ahsoka stumbled. 

Palpatine. Palpatine. Force, how could she have forgotten? He was still a senator right now, he wasn’t at the height of his power, maybe there was some way she could— 

“Master Tano, I’d appreciate it if you accompany Obi-Wan and I to the Temple,” Qui-Gon said. “The Council is waiting for us.”

“Of course.” Ahsoka forced her features into careful neutrality as the hiss of the landing gear signaled their arrival. The boarding ramp lowered, and as they descended, Ahsoka was greeted with the sight of robed Coruscant Guards, Valorum the gray-robed precursor to Palpatine, and Palpatine. 

He stood there at the end of the ramp with an expression of genial concern, still wearing senatorial garb instead of Chancellor’s robes. It was all she could do to hold herself together as she came face-to-face with Darth Sidious. In that moment, she was pounding every single emotion she could possibly feel into submission. She wiped her mind clean, leaving it a blank slate, her demeanor in the Force a perfect wall of Jedi impassion. And because every instinct, every synapse in her body was screaming at her to do something about the incarnation of evil right there, making herself unnoticeable to Palpatine was the hardest thing she’d ever done. 

With great effort, Ahsoka managed not to stare, instead surveying the surroundings, milling behind Padmé as she exchanged pleasantries with him. Just from a casual (casual because anything more would risk her life) dip in the Force, there was nothing in his being that suggested an ounce of darkness. He was so very… nondescript. Even with the full knowledge of what he was, Ahsoka could identify nothing that marked him as the Dark Lord of the Sith.

“And who’s this?” Palpatine said, turning to Ahsoka. His eyes passed over her, taking in nothing in particular. “You don’t seem to be a member of the Queen’s security detail.”

“Jedi. We picked her up along the way,” Qui-Gon said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “She was in need of rescue, and she happened to be on our path.”

“Ah,” Palpatine said. “I regret that I have not made your acquaintance, Master…?” 

It was all Ahsoka could do to get a normal answer out. “Tano. Ahsoka Tano.”

“I welcome you back to Coruscant, Master Tano.” He bowed, and somehow, Ahsoka bowed back. 

It would be so easy to kill him right here and now. No one would expect it. She would have more than enough time to summon her lightsabers and stab him through the chest, or decapitate him, or both for good measure. And then, whatever consequences she faced after that, at least she would’ve ended the threat. It might be the best chance she’d ever have. 

For one second, she was sorely tempted to do it. But already Palpatine was turning away and conversing with Qui-Gon, putting a Jedi between her and him. She didn’t know what had stopped her from doing it.  Maybe because it wasn’t a good idea to make impulsive decisions when dealing with a Sith Lord. Maybe because she’d spent too much of her life being a wanted criminal already. Maybe it was because she wanted to not just make a better future, but also live in the better future. 

So she let the opportunity pass by, and she already knew she’d spend the next few years kicking herself for not doing the deed right then and there. She had a feeling it wouldn’t ever be this easy again.

Chapter Text

Sitting in an open-air speeder, Ahsoka was almost dizzy with anticipation as they approached the Jedi Temple. But also apprehension. Because remembering the last time she’d been in the Jedi Temple only left an ache in her chest.

So when they rounded a corner and the four spires came into view, pristine and untouched by the Purge, she felt so many overlapping emotions at once that they all seemed to cancel out, leaving her sitting frozen. She was unable to do anything other than watch with wide eyes as the Temple loomed closer and closer, taking up more and more of her vision. She felt a sudden instinct to run, but she couldn’t tell if the instinct was to run away from the Temple or toward it. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Qui-Gon watching her. But this was one thing she didn’t have to hide. She could take all of her grief, all of her mourning over the Jedi and the fall of the Republic, all of her feelings about the immense tragedy that she’d witnessed, and she could express it in all its authenticity, because she was claiming to be from a time when something very similar had happened. Those feelings would probably do more to convince the Council that she was from the past than any number of facts she could memorize. At least, that was what she hoped. 

They were pulling up to the steps of the Temple now, about to disembark. Ahsoka rose to her feet shakily, still unable to stop looking at the Temple. She’d mourned this temple. She’d long since given up any hope of returning to it. And now… it was before her again, like nothing had ever happened. 

She closed her eyes, reveling in just how energetic the Force felt here; so many glowing Jedi presences in their own various shades, interacting and pulsating… and the Temple itself, a brilliant central star around which the Force swirled. It was beautiful. It was listening to a song that she hadn’t heard in so long. Ahsoka swayed. She could stand here all day. 

“Master Tano?” 

Ahsoka’s eyes flew open. She was the only one left in the speeder, with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan watching her curiously from solid ground.

She gave them an apologetic smile and stepped off, hesitating only briefly before setting foot on Jedi Temple grounds for the first time since the day she’d left the Order. Qui-Gon was saying something as they ascended the steps of the Temple, but she couldn’t concentrate. She was coming up to the doors of the Temple as… a Jedi? Not a Jedi? 

She didn’t know what she was anymore. Pragmatically, she had to be a Jedi for the best chance of saving the galaxy, but… 

The Temple doors swung open. Ahsoka kept her eyes trained on Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s backs as they entered. She didn’t trust herself to keep her composure if she recognized someone.

To keep herself distracted, she turned her thoughts to Artoo. He’d quietly slipped off the ship behind everyone else exiting, and she would bet on him arriving at the Temple before she did. Which meant he was probably headed towards the Archives right now. It wasn’t unheard of for astromechs to go there on their owner’s orders. His target wasn’t a high-security holocron; since this only contained non-sensitive historical information, it was one of the holocrons accessible to even Padawans. Hopefully it’d be easy in, easy out for him. 

“We’ll be making a full report to the Council first,” Qui-Gon said as they approached a turbolift. “We have much to talk about. It may be a while before you’re called in.” 

Ahsoka nodded. That was what she’d been counting on. “Will they want to see me alone?”

“Hm.” Qui-Gon pressed the up button. Luck was on their side—the doors opened immediately. “Hard to say,” he said as they stepped in.

They were silent momentarily, watching the floor display tick upwards.

“You were surprised when we arrived,” Obi-Wan said. “Does the Temple look different than you remember?”

“You have no idea,” Ahsoka muttered. 

That seemed to leave the two Jedi at a loss for words for the rest of the ride up. When they stepped out at their destination, Ahsoka immediately recognized the antechambers of the Council meeting room. They hadn’t changed a bit between now and the end of the Clone Wars.  

“And this is where we go ahead,” Qui-Gon said. “There’s refreshments in the room that way, if you need something. Please don’t go off on any more odd errands while you’re free from our supervision.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ahsoka said with complete honesty. After all, Artoo was coming to her. And speaking of which… She watched Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan disappear into the comm room, counted out a period of time, and then retreated to the far corner of the room and tapped her comm. 

“Come in, Artoo,” she said quietly. “All clear?”

He gave an affirmative beep in reply. She relaxed. “Okay. Trace this comm and meet me here. I’ll—”

The doors swung open. Ahsoka had just enough time to adopt a nonchalant pose before Obi-Wan stuck his head through. He raised an eyebrow upon seeing her all the way in the corner. “Actually, the Council would like to see you now, Master Tano.” 

Oh, kriff. Ahsoka scrambled to her feet, her mind racing, and then raised her arm to her face, faking a coughing fit. “Abort mission,” she hissed to Artoo in between coughs. With that, she followed Obi-Wan in.

Up until now, she’d been able to avoid seeing Jedi that she recognized, but that became impossible as soon as she entered, as the first Jedi she saw was Plo Koon. 

Plo Koon, the one who found her and brought her to the Order. Plo Koon, her oldest friend in the Order. Plo Koon, who may or may not have voted for her expulsion from the Order. Plo Koon, dead in Order 66, shot down by his own soldiers. 

She’d felt his death in the Force. It was one of the first and by far one of the deepest pains she’d felt. And now he didn’t know her. 

She forced her gaze off of him before it became suspicious. Unfortunately for her, her gaze then landed on the Jedi next to him: Mace Windu. Killed just before Order 66 while fighting Sidious and Vader, she’d learned later from an Imperial contact. She wondered how close it’d been.

“Sense great turmoil in you, we do, Master Tano.” 

The unmistakable voice pulled Ahsoka’s attention to the seat next to Windu, where Yoda sat, squinting at her. “From the past, Master Qui-Gon says you claim to be. Yet, recognize Master Koon, you do.”

Yoda. Bail had promised her that Master Yoda was alive after the Purge and in exile, and that was some small comfort even if Ahsoka had never actually seen him again. Now here he was again, unaware of the gathering storm.

She gave herself a mental shake, a reminder that she had more important things to think about.

Ahsoka took a deep breath and decided that the only way this would ever work was if she went on the offensive. “I recognized Master Koon because—” It felt strange, to not be able to call him Plo. “—I saw him in my visions.”

That sent a murmur around the Council room, and Ahsoka took advantage of the distraction to glance at Plo again. He had brought her to the Temple right around this time. She couldn’t remember if it was before or after the invasion of Naboo, but she was really hoping it was after. It would make her life a lot easier. 

“A Seer, you are?” Yoda said.

“Not a very good one,” Ahsoka said, and again, that was a truth. She hadn’t seen the future; she’d lived it. “My visions never seemed to be helpful because they showed people that didn’t exist and things that never came to pass.”

“But recognize us now, you do,” Yoda said. 

“Yes.” She turned in a slow circle, taking in each Council member. It was a bombardment of one emotion after the other. These people—her last memories of them and this room were not pleasant. But these people had been dead. She was in a room of people she'd grieved deeply. Victims of criminal activity before the war, of the Clone Wars, of Order 66, of the Empire. She almost couldn’t bear to look at Even Piell, the one Jedi in this room whose death she’d witnessed personally. She couldn’t stop the memory from springing to mind, when she’d held his shaking hand and listened to him whispering the Nexus Route coordinates in his ear on the rocky surface of Lola Sayu. But she forced herself to delay the grief, let it trickle out of her, rather than flood out, so that the Jedi wouldn’t notice that Piell had triggered it. 

And then there was Eeth Koth, on the other side of her, who had actually survived Order 66 before being murdered by Vader a year or so later. His survival had given Ahsoka a little bit of hope. The day she’d seen the news of his death had been a dark one.

“In my visions, I stood before this council,” she said.

“A Seer with visions from far beyond the horizon, brought to the time that her visions sprang from,” Windu said. He didn’t sound as if he was agreeing with that concept, but rather as if he was trying out the description to see how it sounded.

“Has that happened to Jedi before?” Ahsoka said. 

“No.” 

Ahsoka didn’t say anything in reply, instead being careful not to let any worry leak out from behind her shields. She was having to control her shielding almost as much as she’d controlled it in front of Sidious.

Ki-Adi Mundi, who had worn an expression of disbelief from the moment Ahsoka walked in, finally spoke up. “Forgive us for doubting your story, but it’s rather extraordinary.”

To Ahsoka’s complete surprise, it was Qui-Gon who responded first. “Hear her out, Master Mundi. I, along with my Padawan, certainly bore witness to her feats of Force ability. She has a significant amount of training in the Jedi arts.”

Ahsoka gave him a grateful look. Mundi crossed his arms, looking pensive, but didn’t speak further.

“Closed off, your mind is, Master Mundi,” Yoda said, poking his stick toward him. “Tried to sense her, have you? Tried to meditate on her, have you? Tried to commune with her, have you? Open your mind, you must.” 

Yoda hopped off his chair, approaching Ahsoka. “Take my hand, young Tano, and I will decide for myself if you are strong in the Force.”

Ahsoka stared at him as he put his hand in hers. Yoda had voted her out of the Order, overseen the Order during the period when a Sith Lord was undercutting their entire existence, and then effectively abandoned the rebellion out of what she presumed to be shame. And now she was putting all of her hope in him.

“Hm. Know me, you do,” Yoda said. 

“Yes,” Ahsoka said without hesitation. “I’ve seen you in my visions.”

“What do I do in your visions?”

“Make bad decisions.” 

Yoda’s brow jumped. There were several audible gasps, and Windu half-rose out of his seat. Perhaps Ahsoka shouldn’t have said that, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care about the repercussions right now, because that had felt cathartic beyond all measure.  

And then, unbelievably, Yoda cackled.

“Criticize me, you do? Make you Grandmaster, perhaps I should? Seniority over me, you have. Three thousand years old, you say you are.” 

“No thank you,” Ahsoka said, somewhat giddy. 

Yoda nodded. “Fully explain your turmoil, visions alone do not. More at work, there is.” He grasped her hand, closing his eyes. “Much grief, sorrow, and shock I sense in you,” he said. “Witnessed powerful catastrophes, you have.” He paused, and then reached up with his hand, beckoning her, and Ahsoka knelt down, letting him place a leathery palm on her head. “Hmm. Yet, overwhelm you, these emotions do not.”

“I couldn’t let that happen,” she said. Then, considering that might not have been the most Jedi-like thing to say, she hastily continued. “In the face of so much that was wrong, I couldn’t help anyone by being paralyzed by grief.”

“Hmmm. Tell us your story,” Yoda said. “Into your past, you must bring us.” 

Ahsoka knew that he’d chosen those words intentionally. It would not do to simply tell them. She had to show them.

“Well, truthfully, Masters, the last time I saw this Temple, it was in ruins.” She closed her eyes, recalling the hideous images she saw on the HoloNet of the burning Temple, the bodies piled up on the front steps, lightsaber slashes littering their bodies, and she let those images resonate across the Council. She sensed Yoda’s presence in tandem with hers, amplifying what she saw for the entire Council to see. “Sacked by the Sith and destroyed. Too many dead Jedi to count. We were in ruins. The Republic was in ruins. Everything was in ruins. I didn’t think anything could save us. I mourned for months—we all did—and now I’m standing here as if nothing ever happened, and as if all my mourning was for nothing.” That last word came out harder than she’d intended, but she didn’t particularly regret it. Several Jedi shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“The Jedi went into exile, but I couldn’t. I had to do something. I fixated on my visions. I thought they somehow held the key to stopping the Empire—the Sith Empire. So I went out into the galaxy, letting the Force guide me. It was not an easy journey—it was a lawless time. I was hunted, as all Jedi were.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes, reaching deep into herself and drawing out carefully selected memories, images that she now revealed to the probing presence of the Council. Something about Yoda’s hand on her head made it easier too, like she was speaking directly to the Council with her mind in addition to her voice. The Temple, burning at a distance. The body of a Padawan she’d been too late to save during the Empire’s time. Helmeted clone troopers firing on civilians. Her duel with a disguised Barriss. Hiding in an alley from an Imperial patrol during a covert mission in pouring rain. And then, possibly against her better judgment, a glimpse of her duel with the Sixth Brother. All things that could’ve taken place during the Sith Empire; nothing that could’ve been clearly identified as the future.

“And eventually, the Force led me to Tatooine, where I got lost in a sandstorm.”

Then, without warning, it was as if she’d been thrown back into it—the sound of the wind roaring in her ears, dark clouds all around her, even the stinging sensation on her skin from sand lashing against her—and the Council, distantly present in her senses, felt the exact same thing. The roaring grew louder and louder and the clouds closer and closer until there was nothing but darkness and nothing but that enormous roar—

Ahsoka’s eyes flew open. The entire Council was staring at her, wide-eyed. The Force vibrated with shock from all directions.

“...And then I woke up to Master Jinn and Master Kenobi’s ship landing in front of me.” 

A long silence punctuated the room, and Ahsoka realized she had done something that had to be incredibly rare—stun the Jedi Council into silence. Indeed, the person to break the silence wasn’t a Council member.

“We sensed her in the desert, and stopped for her,” Qui-Gon said. “I don’t believe she intentionally put herself there. She was a few hours from death when we found her. It took a great deal of healing to bring her back from the edge.” 

“And you’re sure of that?” someone from behind them said—Ahsoka didn’t recognize the voice. 

“Very.” Qui-Gon paused. “For what it is worth… I fully believe her. The Force works in mysterious ways,” he said in an intonation that sounded oddly familiar

“Of course you would say that, Master Jinn,” the same voice said behind them—Ahsoka was decently sure that was Oppo Rancisis—“You’re the one who’s used that as an excuse far too many times in the past.”

Jinn didn’t blink. “With all due respect, Master, when have I been wrong to let the Force guide my decisions?”

“I can think of at least one occasion.” 

“That depends on your point of view.” 

“Masters.” Windu rubbed his forehead vigorously. “Now is not the time to rehash old conflicts. Your stance is noted, Master Jinn.”

Qui-Gon smiled, folding his arms, and seeing Ahsoka giving him a surprised look, shrugged.

“Hmm.” Yoda tapped his stick against Ahsoka’s leg, as if to assure himself that she was actually there. “Consider this, we must.” 

The Council fell silent, and Ahsoka sensed the Force presences of the Council swirling around her, seeking out something in her. She kept her presence quiet and her shields at her absolute highest. The Order would not see anything in her mind that she did not want them to see. Every doorway she’d hunkered from Imperial patrols in, every time she’d lowered her head to get around ISB officers in a spaceport, every minute of living in the Empire had prepared her for this.

The silence stretched on for some time, until Yoda signaled for it to end.

“About what else occurred on Tatooine, tell us, Master Qui-Gon.”

“After our initial search for a hyperdrive was fruitless, a local child offered his help, and Master Tano recognized this boy on sight, despite the boy not knowing her.” 

All eyes swung back to Ahsoka. 

“Another vision,” she said. “I saw him multiple times, heard the Force whisper his first name, 'Anakin.' I was looking for him on Tatooine in my time.”

Oddly enough, she sensed a flash of surprise in Qui-Gon at her words, which quickly shifted into contemplation.

“Anakin recognized us as Jedi and offered to help us,” he continued. “Master Tano decided of her own volition to free the boy and his mother.” 

All eyes back to her. “He offered to help us. It was the least I could do to repay him.”

“How kind of you,” Plo murmured quietly. Ahsoka snuck a glance at him, resisting the urge to smile gratefully. If any other Council member had said that, she would assume it was sarcasm, but she could recognize Plo’s genuine tone.

“And how did she free them?” Windu asked.

“Well—” Qui-Gon glanced over to her. “She can explain better than I can.”

Ahsoka sighed, knowing there was no way to downplay this. “I killed a Krayt Dragon for Jabba the Hutt to earn the money needed to buy Anakin and Shmi’s freedom.”

“Shmi is the mother’s name,” Qui-Gon added, rather anticlimactically, in the silence that filled the room.

“Verification of this, you have?” Yoda asked.

“We saw the payment,” Qui-Gon said. “Robbing every dwelling in the village wouldn’t have given her that much money.”

Yoda hummed and nodded, and the rest of the Council seemed to accept that.

“We were preparing to leave the planet when the Sith attacked. It was actually Master Tano that fought him, as we were occupied with escorting our companions to the ship. But there was no doubt this was a Sith. We had sensed the disturbance in the Force, and he was skilled in lightsaber combat.” He nodded to Ahsoka. “And she fought him off successfully.”

Yoda squinted at Ahsoka. “Not the only Dark Sider you have fought, this stranger on Tatooine is.”

Ahsoka nodded.

“Your lightsabers, please.” 

Ahsoka reached into her boots and handed the hilts to Yoda. She watched with bated breath as he turned over the hilts in his hands. She knew that there wasn’t any rule against Jedi having white lightsabers, but it was highly uncommon because—

“Master Billaba.” Yoda summoned her with a wave of his hand and gave the hilts to her. “Your impression, please.”

Depa Billaba scrutinized the hilts and then, holding them at arm’s length, ignited them.

There was a gasp and another murmur as white light filled the room. Billaba inspected them for a few more seconds before speaking. 

“These crystals were taken from a Sith. Or at the very least, someone affiliated with the Sith.”

For a second, Ahsoka thought she was done for, what with how half the Council seemed to be reacting to that, but Billaba held up a hand for calm. 

“Let me clarify. Someone defeated a Sith in battle, took the crystals from their lightsabers, and then healed them from the torture that a Sith crystal is subjected to. This crystal bled under the scorch of the Dark Side, and as a result, even when healed it is completely white, as you can see.”

More murmurs. 

“It’s certainly uncommon these days. But it was more well-known in the days of the New Sith Wars, when it was actually quicker for a Jedi to take a crystal from a fallen Sith instead of going to Ilum for a new one,” Billaba said.

“And with no Sith in living memory…” Windu said. He glanced at Ahsoka. “You wouldn’t have been able to get these crystals in many places.”

“It is also an entirely Light ritual,” Billaba said. “Let me emphasize again that it heals the crystal from the atrocities the Dark Side inflicts upon it. Rarity does not equate transgression.” 

“I lost my lightsabers,” Ahsoka said. “Ilum was in Empire territory. I couldn’t risk going there for more.”

Saesee Tiin spoke up, his voice full of shock. “You killed a Sith without lightsabers?” 

“He… wasn’t much of a Sith,” Ahsoka said. “More of an acolyte.”

She couldn’t help but notice the meaningful glance that the Council exchanged, even if she had no idea what it meant.

Billaba extinguished the lightsabers and handed them back to Ahsoka. “Fine craftsmanship,” she said. “I commend you.”

“Thank you.” Ahsoka tried not to think about what she’d heard about Depa’s death as she pocketed her sabers and turned back to Yoda and Windu.

“You mentioned that the Jedi Order went into exile after the ceasefire in the Great Galactic War,” Windu said, folding his hands together. “Although you did not relocate with them, you must know where they relocated to. Tell me, which planet was that?”

Ahsoka knew this. It was one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Order, a planet so strong in Force energy that it was unsafe for non-Force-sensitives to spend more than a few days there before the immense energy of the planet began to cause hallucinations or worse. 

“Tython,” she said. “Where the Jedi Order was founded.” Only a Jedi, or an ex-Jedi, would know of this planet.

A murmur swept through the room, although Windu remained impassive. 

“Who was your master?”

“Rafa Trace,” Ahsoka said without hesitation. She hoped the Martez sisters didn’t mind her using their names for a cover story.

“Hm.” Windu gestured to a Jedi behind Ahsoka, and she turned to see Eeth Koth typing something onto a datapad. 

A few moments later, Koth looked up. “There is no mention of a Jedi Padawan, Knight, or Master by the name of Rafa Trace in the Archives. Or Ahsoka Tano, for that matter.” 

“A lot of records were destroyed when the Temple was attacked,” Ahsoka said. 

Windu nodded. “Entirely plausible. Somehow, that’s one of the less questionable things about all this.”

Be calm, Ahsoka told herself. They still haven’t thrown you out. 

“Master Yoda, what do you say?” Windu said, turning to him. 

Yoda didn’t say anything for a long time, long enough that Ahsoka started to wonder if he was purposefully leaving them in suspense—and then finally he tapped his stick sharply on the floor. 

“From the past, Master Tano is.”

The Council exploded into chaos, overlapping shouts and questions and interjections; several masters stood up as if to challenge Yoda.

Yoda slammed his stick on the ground, and the rest of the Council all jumped.

“Sense undeniable facts in her words, I do,” Yoda said.

That silenced most, but Ki-Adi Mundi made a noise of concern. “Master Yoda, even if you are correct, consider the implications of what you are saying. Time travel is beyond the knowledge of the Jedi. If we are accepting that this really is possible, then surely we must consider that the Dark Side has a hand in such an event?”

“Hm.” Yoda frowned. “A point, you do have.” He turned to Ahsoka. “Know of a way to travel through time, the Jedi do not. At work, is the Dark Side?” 

“Is she really the person we should be asking about this?” Mundi said as Ahsoka tried to figure out how to best respond. 

“I…” In the end, all she could do was shrug helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t ask to be sent through time. I don’t understand any of it.” It was as if the galaxy was giving her a second chance, but… the galaxy couldn’t possibly be that kind, could it?

“Perhaps she wasn’t the one intended to be sent through time,” Even Piell said, speaking for the first time. “Could the Sith on Tatooine be a time traveler as well?”

That got some curious mumbles throughout the chamber, but Windu was shaking his head as soon as the words were out of Piell’s mouth. “It would be naive and wishful of us to think that,” he said. “It’s much more prudent of us to assume that this Sith has been lying in wait for years, planning something.” 

“Well, Master Tano?” Yoda said. “Thoughts, do you have?”

“I don’t know how any of it happened,” Ahsoka said. She was lost, and she made no effort to hide that from the Council. This had been her home for so long, and now she didn’t know if she had anything left. They didn’t know her. They didn’t know what had happened to her. They didn’t know what they’d done to her. It was as if she’d never existed. 

The Council felt it. Even the more disbelieving members seemed moved; they turned to look at one another, searching but failing to find the bottom of the feeling. 

“An unwilling time traveler, Master Tano is,” Yoda said, and to this at least there was no murmur of dissent, which Ahsoka found very funny. The Council had some doubt that she was a time traveler, but if she was a time traveler, then they were quite sure she hadn’t done it on purpose. 

When there was no rebuttal, Yoda nodded, and then his expression turned pensive. “Ahsoka Tano, your name is.”

Ahsoka blinked. “Yes.”

“And you’re absolutely sure of this,” Windu said.

“One hundred percent,” Ahsoka said. She could only think of one reason why Windu would ask this, and that reason was exactly what she'd been afraid of. “Why are you asking?”

“Because of what Master Koon knows.” Windu nodded to the other side of the Council.

“As we said, there is no Jedi in the archives named Ahsoka Tano,” Plo said, leaning forward. “However, there is a three-year-old youngling named Ahsoka Tano currently living in one of the créches.”

Ahsoka steeled herself. Time to do this the hard way.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka could feel the scrutinizing gaze of every member of the Order on her. Next to her, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan shifted in surprise, but remained silent. And for her part, she kept staring at Plo, trying to keep her emotions under control. Plo was the one person who could recognize her right now and potentially figure out the truth. And the way he was watching her closely didn’t give her much confidence. Furthermore, with how well she’d just convinced the Order that she’d traveled through time, they might not need much convincing from him to believe she was from the future. And then, well… the bad decisions would start.

Ahsoka tamped down her alarm, recognizing that her cover story wasn’t blown yet. She wouldn’t be revealing anything unless she was forced to. And Plo was talking again.

“I am familiar with the youngling named Ahsoka Tano. I brought her to the Temple,” he continued slowly. “When I heard your name, I knew we had to see you right away.” And then he stopped there. If he recognized her, he wasn’t saying anything yet. 

Time to bluff, Ahsoka decided. “What does this have to do with me?” she said, projecting a confidence she didn’t entirely feel.

“The same name, the same species, the same place, the same time. It is a strange coincidence,” Windu said. 

“Well, what do you think’s going on?” she said. 

Windu arched an eyebrow. “What do you think is going on?” 

Well played, Master Windu. Time for Plan C. “This… Ahsoka… Is she from the Styx province of Shili?” 

“Yes,” Plo said.

“Well. I think that explains it. I’m from the Styx province.” Ahsoka crossed her arms, hoping it lent her words an air of finality. “She’s named after me.”

Anakin wouldn’t have been satisfied with that lie—it wasn’t nearly outlandish enough. But she’d spent an hour or so in hyperspace trying to think up a contingency plan for this scenario, and all the outlandish ideas were too questionable even for this. Claiming that Baby Her was a reincarnation of her ran into the issue of her still being very much alive. Saying that Baby Her was her daughter who’d also been sent through time raised an entirely different host of questions she felt much less qualified to answer. Saying Baby Her was her twin didn’t even make any sense. A clone? No way.

“Named after you?” Windu said. 

“This might be a surprise, but when a child gets sent off to join the Jedi Order, it’s a pretty big deal. Parents want to name their kids after the kid in the next village who became a Jedi. I mean, when I went to Krevas to deal with a piracy problem, I met so many people named after Vodo-Siosk Baas that I couldn’t count them all,” she said, pulling a random name from Temple history lessons. “And Togruta culture already likes to reuse names, first and last, so this especially doesn’t surprise me.”

“Hm.” Windu squinted, thinking. Then he raised his wrist, activating his comlink. “Patch me through to Master Ti,” he said. A few moments later, he began to speak quietly, too quiet for Ahsoka to hear. After a few exchanges, he shut it off and nodded. 

“I had to confirm some of those facts with another Togruta, but I have confirmed them. I apologize for my lack of knowledge of your culture.”

Ahsoka nodded. “No offense taken.” In fact, it was a relief to see the Council doing due diligence and not accepting things at face value.

Windu was silent for a moment. “So you believe she’s named after you, a Jedi from three thousand years ago.”

“Yes.” Ahsoka’s words hung in the air, and she wondered if she was closer to leaving the room, or being tossed out of it.

“Hm.” Windu folded his hands together, and then looked over to Yoda. 

“Convinced that Master Tano is from the past, I am,” Yoda said. “However, a strange occurrence this is. Convinced, others may not be.”

“I don’t necessarily doubt that she’s from the past.” Windu leaned forward, his eyes boring into Ahsoka. “It’s that I am considering a very simple explanation for why you have a youngling’s name.”

Ahsoka stared in confusion.  

“It isn’t your real name.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth. And then closed it. She hadn’t considered that.

“And?” she said, just so she couldn’t be accused of being left speechless. 

“That’s where I was hoping you could answer.”

“I don’t know what there is to say.” Ahsoka crossed her arms. “My name is Ahsoka Tano. That’s the truth.” If she could just ease them off of this… Well, she might be able to actually get away with it. Technically, she wasn’t being accused of being from the future. But it was debatable whether or not that was worse than being accused of identity theft. 

A voice spoke up from behind her. “I think I see where Master Windu is going with this. Forgive us for perhaps a baseless speculation, but… What if you sliced into our records to find an identity to steal? Without realizing that you were stealing the identity of a three-year-old.”

Ahsoka spun to face the source, only to realize it was Even Piell again. She swallowed down the remembrance that he’d died on her watch and pushed out a clipped reply. 

“That would make me the galaxy’s worst identity thief.” 

“But you must see why we have to consider this,” Piell said. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there’s no such thing as a coincidence.”

“Fair. It’s not a coincidence, I agree with that, but that’s because she’s named after me.” Ahsoka paused. “I can see why you’d have a hard time believing that, but come on, identity theft? How is that any better?”

“That… is true,” Piell said, to the nods of the rest of the Council, making Ahsoka’s heart leap. “It would be an amateur mistake to make. However, if you were desperate… As much as I dislike bringing this up, I can think of one reason why you would be desperate.” 

If this was headed where Ahsoka thought it was headed—

“Maybe you were trying to conceal another name…” He trailed off, and then his features seemed to sink. “One which you were afraid that we’d recognize.”

“Tano.” Windu again. “I’m sorry, but we have to ask. Are you a Jedi?”

“Yes!” Damn it all, she couldn’t suppress the slightest of hitches in her breath.

“Hesitation, I sensed in you,” Yoda said. Another murmur spread through the Council, and several Council members looked more than a little concerned. 

Of course he would notice that. She’d almost started to hope that Yoda could be on her side.

Ahsoka had known from the start just how easily her plans could fall apart, but she hadn’t expected them to fall apart like this, with everyone becoming more suspicious of her and—

“Master Tano? Is there something you need to tell us?”

No, she couldn’t have this happen like the Temple bombing, not when she was trying to save everyone—

“Tano?”

“Maybe I started questioning how much of a Jedi I was if I couldn’t stop the Sith from ripping apart the Order!” 

A deathly silence fell over the Council. Ahsoka snapped her mouth shut. That was. More truth than she’d intended to let out.

“I’m sorry,” she said, crossing her arms and looking down—not out of deference, but because right now she just needed to look at something besides dead Jedi. 

Nobody was saying anything. She really didn’t like it when that happened. 

She traced the lines of the tiled floor with her eyes, waiting. “Masters?” she said after another long moment had passed.

“I believe we have been out of line, Master Tano,” Windu said quietly, sincerely. 

She looked up. “Come again?”

“Forgive us for doubting you.” 

“I…” Ahsoka trailed off. She knew what Windu meant, but those words…  Forgive us. In that too-brief moment between the end of her time in the Order and the rise of the Empire, she’d dwelled on those words too much, had them rattle around in her brain endlessly, because she’d wanted nothing more than to hear them from the Council. And now she was hearing it for something that had absolutely nothing to do with the Temple bombing, and she never would be able to hear the apology she wanted, because the Council couldn’t apologize for something that hadn’t happened. 

This wasn’t closure, but it was probably the closest thing she could get. That certainly did not hurt at all.

She nodded to Windu. “Thank you.”

“Many things we sense in you,” Yoda said. “Amongst them, much guilt. Guilt for us. Shame. Plenty of shame. Seen our disintegration, you have.”

And you saw it too. You felt shame, too. How did you deal with it, Master Yoda? Is that why you went into exile? Maybe I should’ve gone into exile. 

“Unreal, this must seem. Unworthy to be a Jedi, you feel?”

“You… have no idea,” Ahsoka said faintly.

“Why you hide your name from us, this is? Failed us, you think you have? A fresh start, you hope for, with this new name?”

Sensing only genuine curiosity in Yoda’s words, Ahsoka gave a very slow nod. They really think I’ve got a fake name, huh?

“I—” She looked around the Council, and instead of suspicion and resentment, she saw consideration and thoughtfulness. Maybe… she could roll with this. If she couldn’t convince them otherwise, was there anything wrong with letting them think this? It would make them less likely to think she was the same person as Baby Her. 

“My name is Ahsoka Tano,” she said, letting out a breath, making it look as if she was deflating, flagging.  

“Hm.” Yoda looked around the Council. “Feels that she does not deserve her name, Ahsoka Tano does not. Our place to question this, it is not. Ahsoka Tano, she is to us.” 

This statement received several assenting nods. Ahsoka took another long look around the Council, almost unable to believe her luck.

“Look—we cannot force your name out of you, but until you feel it is right to give it to us… Could you by any chance choose a less confusing name?” Windu said, rubbing his forehead. 

“No,” Ahsoka said immediately. 

“People will think she’s your daughter.” 

“I’m fine with that.”

“We are giving you our explicit permission to do this.”

“I’m not changing my name to something that it isn’t.”

From the looks of slight pity the Council tried to hide, Ahsoka had the feeling she was succeeding. Every insistence that she was Ahsoka Tano would only seem to them like she was trying to maintain her cover story.

Windu sighed. “I know it feels as if you’ve failed the Jedi Order, Master Tano. But we rebuilt ourselves after that disaster. There were others, too, from which we rose just as quickly and forcefully.” He paused, looking clearly unaccustomed to talking about such a thing. “You have quite a bit of galactic history to catch up on. But the Republic has had a thousand years of peace and stability. Until this recent evidence otherwise, we believed the Sith to be wiped out. You are in a new time.”

Ahsoka chose to simply nod at his words. Any more of a reaction, and she would’ve been tempted to say something reckless.

“Settled the question, we have,” Yoda said, sounding much more sure of himself than anyone else. “Further questions for Ahsoka Tano, we will not bother her with at this time. Learn her name in due time, we will. Digressed from the objective of this meeting, we have. Continue with your story, Master Qui-Gon.”

She could see that there were several Council members who looked like they did not consider the matter settled, but Yoda’s word signaled the end of this matter. At least, for now.

Thankfully, the rest of the debriefing had gone without incident, and Ahsoka was following Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon towards the turbolift—at least until the sound of Yoda’s cane rapping on the floor stopped her. 

“Talk to you, I would like to, Master Tano,” Yoda said, shuffling forward. “Alone,” he added, making a shooing motion at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. “Fetch the boy, you two must. Delay, you should not.”

Yoda waited until the turbolift doors had closed on the other two—Obi-Wan giving her a pitying look just before he disappeared from view—and then fixed a piercing gaze on Ahsoka. She swallowed, suddenly very aware of the fact that Yoda, for all of his oddities and strange decisions, was the senior Grand Master of the Order for a reason. 

“Who was Grand Master of the Order in your time, I would like to know,” Yoda said. 

Ahsoka opened her mouth. And closed it. She had no reply. After a few long seconds, she shook her head. The jig was up. “I don’t know.”

Yoda didn’t seem too surprised as he shook his head. “Work on your memory, you must.” 

Ahsoka stared, her eyes widening. “Master…?”

“Nothing more I will say for now. The Council I must attend to.” And with that, he turned and walked back into the Council room faster than she’d ever seen him walk. 

Ahsoka was left alone in the antechamber. Immediately, she began to hyperventilate. What had any of that meant? She had no idea if he trusted her, or if he was about to send out the entire Council to arrest her. What—what—

Focus. Focus, she told herself, trying to fight a familiar wave of anxiety that was beginning to well up in her stomach. She wasn’t in immediate danger. If Yoda truly thought she was a threat, he would’ve had her in handcuffs long before this. Or worse. Her cover was intact. Now she had to make sure she could keep it that way.

She turned towards the turbolift, activating her comm. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were going to retrieve Anakin, and whatever happened after that would probably take a while, so she figured she had a good few hours before the Council would want to see her again. She raised her comm. Time to follow Yoda’s advice. “Artoo?” 

A very exasperated series of beeps greeted her. She smiled slightly. “I’m sorry for almost getting you arrested. Can you meet me at these coordinates I’m sending you, on the fifteenth level?” 

If Ahsoka was going to save the galaxy, she had to do a better job keeping her story straight. Which meant no more forgetting things that should’ve been perfectly obvious. No more scrambling for the barest excuse every time someone asked her a question.

And the best place to start with all of that was memorizing the time period she was supposed to be from. For the past several hours, dates, names, events, battles, ideas, concepts, facts, stories, and everything else had streamed through her mind as she studied the contents of the holocron Artoo had borrowed. Now she let the stream slow and sat up straight, pushing the holocron aside and slumping back against the wall, surfacing from a deep meditation session.

“The Grand Master of the Order at the time of the sacking of Coruscant was…” she muttered to herself. “Zym,” she answered immediately.

She nodded as she sifted through heaps of information in her brain. So far, so good. If the Council questioned her further (they undoubtedly would), she was starting to like her chances.

A pulse of pain arced across her head. She grimaced. Learning from a holocron wasn’t exactly like learning from the average book. With a good bit of meditation, you could learn… faster, for lack of a better word, with the tradeoff being that sometimes you got a splitting headache when you did that. Ahsoka took deep, slow breaths, rubbing her forehead and trying to dispel the pain into the Force.

She looked over to Artoo, who had been watching with what had to be a judgmental look. And then he made a series of smug blipping sounds that didn’t even have any meaning in binary. 

Ahsoka grimaced. “Yes, I’m in pain. Does that sufficiently absolve me of making you hide in a broom closet for an hour?” 

Artoo dipped his dome in a slow nod. 

“Good. We’re even.”

Ahsoka had just turned to the holocron again when something tickled at the back of her montrals. She’d tucked herself into a little alcove in a hallway she remembered as being always deserted, but now she sensed someone was approaching.

She quickly handed the holocron off to Artoo for safekeeping and got to her feet, which only made the floor wobble questionably under her. 

Whoever this was, their presence—now drawing near—seemed more curious than anything else. A tentative tendril of Force energy brushed against her, and slow, unhurried footsteps came down the hallway. Moments later, Plo Koon rounded the corner. 

When he made eye contact with Ahsoka, his entire form seemed to tense and then relax, and again Ahsoka sensed that probe of Force energy. Then she saw something in his eyes, and a sense of dread overtook her as he took another step closer, and then stopped, his expression turning contemplative. 

“The rest of the Council does not know this youngling with your name name the way I do,” Plo began slowly. “For the time being, they’ve been convinced that you two are separate people. However, I have been keeping an eye on young Ahsoka ever since I brought her to the Temple, and we have developed a connection.”

Ahsoka was very, very still.

“A connection that allows me to sense something that not even Master Yoda or Master Windu would be able to notice.” He tilted his head. “When I sense you, it’s as if I’m sensing her.” 

Ahsoka nodded slowly, shifting her weight, considering that she might have to run. “And what of it?”

“You recognized me in the Council chamber. I saw it in your face, if only for a split second, but I saw anguish, grief, determination.” He paused. “You looked at me like I looked at my Master when I lost him.” 

“What does that mean to you?” 

“You know me, but I do not know you. You share a Force presence with another girl, a similarity that should not be possible. And yet, I still believe you when you say you traveled through time. Therefore… I can only conclude that you are from the future.”

Ahsoka couldn’t breathe. 

“And you come from a future where I apparently die tragically,” Plo said abruptly. “A future where you have apparently seen horrors on par with the height of the Sith. A future where you apparently could not venture to Ilum to find crystals. A future which clearly traumatized you so badly that even in the safety of the past and the Temple, you move like a cornered animal.”

It was then that Ahsoka realized she’d been slowly backing up without conscious action for the last half-minute, more than doubling the distance between her and Plo. She stopped.

Plo’s voice had picked up speed and intensity with each observation, but now, he suddenly returned it to gentleness. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to overwhelm you.”

“I—” Ahsoka was trying very hard to make herself breathe normally again. Plo was listening to her, he wasn’t going to accuse her without hearing the whole story, even if the Council with Plo on it had accused her without hearing the whole story—

“I only want to know, why not tell the Council the truth?” Plo said; his voice flooding with genuine concern. It almost hurt Ahsoka to hear that. He didn’t know what the Clone Wars would do to the Council’s judgment—he didn’t know what sharing a city with a Sith Lord for years and years and years was doing to all of their judgment—he still believed in the infallibility of the Jedi Council, and that hurt because Ahsoka felt as if she could never believe in that again. 

She desperately wished she could tell the Council. She desperately wished she could trust them. But she simply could not. Half of this Council was the Council that had voted to expel her and then asked her back with a straight face. Even Plo was not free from suspicion—the Council’s vote had been secret; she would never know who had believed her and who had not. If anyone had believed her. She simply did not trust them to make the right decisions about saving the galaxy.

“I—” Ahsoka took another step back, this one obvious and conscious, a wild hope occurring to her despite all her reservations. “If I tell you, swear to me you’ll keep it secret.”

Plo shook his head sadly. “Regardless of whether or not I was your friend in your future, I cannot promise to keep what you tell me secret. If I determine it to be in the Order’s best interests, I will bring it to the Council,” he said, crossing his arms.

“That’s fair.” And that’s also proof that I can’t trust you yet. 

“Is there nothing you can tell the Council?” 

“Not until you understand.” 

“Understand what?”

Ahsoka didn’t want to say anything that could put Plo in Sidious’s crosshairs. Too much information, and he’d go looking too quickly, not understanding how close the noose was around them all.

“Nothing is as it seems,” she said finally. “If you think what happened in what I showed you is impossible? Then think about what it would take to make it possible.”

Plo was silent for a long time, his expression unreadable behind his goggles and mask as Ahsoka’s heart thudded in her chest. 

Finally, he spoke, tapping his chin tusks. “...You are not that old. Still much younger than me. There cannot be more than three decades between the child and you.” His next words had an almost awe-like quality to them. “What could possibly happen in that amount of time?” 

Ahsoka didn’t reply. She couldn’t reply. If anything, Plo was confirming her worst fears. If Plo couldn’t yet bring himself to believe that the Republic and the Jedi were this close to destruction, then neither could the rest of the Council right now, and she had no idea how to convince them of what she’d lived through.

“I wonder the same thing all the time,” she said, because saying nothing wasn’t an option.

Plo stepped back and steadied himself against the wall, apparently grappling with the information he’d been given. “I have never considered such a thing in my life.”

“Are you going to tell the Council?” she asked. Then something else occurred to her. “...Why didn’t you tell them already?”

Turmoil rippled through Plo like a stone thrown into a pond. “I should have told them this, and yet… It is odd. You are trying to help us. You are trying to prevent whatever cataclysm you have lived through. And you believe it best to keep the Council in the dark. I do not understand that.” He shook his head. “But the only one who fully understands what is going on is you.” 

Oh, how Ahsoka wished that last thing was true.

“I think, if I told them now, they would not believe me,” Plo said. “I would need to gather more evidence if I were to convince them.”

Well, why was he telling her that? That would just make it harder for him. Wait—

“But, more importantly… I promised to help the child that I brought to the Temple,” Plo said gently. “And you are also the child I brought to the Temple. Therefore, I have a promise to help you.” 

Oh.

It took everything Ahsoka had in her to hold back tears because that gentleness in Plo’s voice felt so familiar, and it was the first time she’d heard that warm tone in so long—

“I am not one to break promises easily. So, for a little while, I do not see the harm in keeping your secret,” he said. “You have my word on that. Unless I come to believe that you are working against the best interests of the Republic.”

She almost went limp from the release of tension in her body. “Thank you.” 

“However, I cannot keep this from them forever.” 

“I understand.” She knew that at some point the truth would have to make itself known, but she would do everything she could to delay that day.

Plo nodded. “Is there anything I can do to assist you?”

“I…” Ahsoka didn’t know how to reply. She didn’t know how to tell him that dragging him into this might only put him in more danger. She didn’t know how to tell him there was a Sith Lord right next door that could cut the entire Council down in an instant. “I don’t want to tell you anything else about how I knew you—about—” She cut herself off, trying again. “I don’t want you to feel as if you have to get to know me, because you don’t have to. I’m not going to make you do that.”

“I help you not because I feel obliged to, but because I want to.”

“But I can take care of myself.”

“I would hardly say that taking the entire burden of the future solely upon your shoulders is good self-care.”  

Yes, maybe he was right, but Ahsoka didn’t have a choice. 

“...I’ll think about it,” she said finally. 

Plo nodded. He clearly wasn’t convinced by that, but he was, at the very least, not pressuring her further, which was good enough for now. 

Now that Ahsoka was confident Plo wouldn’t tell anyone the truth (for now), her adrenaline was draining out of her, and so was her self-control. “Master Koon?” she said, trying and failing to keep her voice even. “May I—just once—not because I—it’s okay if you don’t want to—I just—A hug?”

Plo, who had been listening in confusion as she tried to get her words out, suddenly straightened in understanding. He held his arms out, and Ahsoka practically crushed him in an embrace.

She wanted to cry with joy. He was here, he was real, he wasn’t dead, she could feel him, she felt at home again. 

But when Plo returned the hug, it was a jolt of reality. Although it was well-intentioned, his motion was unsure, halting, unfamiliar. He was just humoring her out of his deep-rooted kindness.

Another strange fact of reality: the last time she’d hugged Plo, she’d buried her face in his chest, but now she was almost level with him, her chin landing on his shoulder, entirely different than what was familiar.

And once again, Ahsoka was seized by a feeling of being deeply, deeply alone. 

Chapter Text

Ahsoka was done with the holocron, and Artoo had safely returned it to the Archives before sneaking back onto Padme’s ship. If Obi-Wan ever checked his access history for the archives, he wouldn’t think anything of a random low-level holocron being checked out under his name.

She still had a little time before she was due back at the Council, time which she was using to see the Temple again, in all its glory. She’d heard rumblings, of course, of what had happened to the Temple during the Empire—Palpatine’s personal palace, what a horrifying fate—and as such, had never been able to bring herself to look at what’d been done to it. The things her imagination came up with were just as bad. 

The roof was the first place she went, passing slowly through the shadows cast by the massive spires of the Temple. Aside from a few Jedi seated on a bench, their heads bent together in conversation, Ahsoka had the roof to herself. Her eyes wandered the perimeter before falling on a tree with gnarled branches, and her breath caught. The Great Tree. 

She approached it, tilting her head back to look at the uppermost leaves rustling against the faded blue sky of Coruscant, and let herself reminisce. The Great Tree was said to be even older than the Temple itself, and not even Master Nu could come up with an exact number for its age. Ahsoka could remember countless classes next to this tree, listening to Master Yoda explain how to meditate in its shade, nearly chopping off one of its branches while sparring with Anakin. And also… this was where Barriss had fought Anakin. And lost. Badly. 

She stood there for a few more moments, letting her heartbeat slow, soaking in a very simple thing.

It was quiet.

Not just because of the noise-dampening technology that blocked Coruscant’s ceaseless rumble, but the Force was quiet. There was no distant, unending scream resonating through space and time that had been so familiar, so omnipotent in the time of the Empire. The scream that meant a million different atrocities happening at once on a thousand different worlds. The Force had bled so much that it was a wonder she hadn’t drowned in it. 

The cacophony of the Empire was gone. And this was the first time that Ahsoka could let that beautiful, delicious silence wash over her, soothe her, comfort her.

Footsteps came from behind her, but Ahsoka remained transfixed by the tree, watching the branches wave in the breeze. Only when she could sense a presence next to her did she turn, upon which she sucked in a fast, discreet breath and tried to remain calm. 

A tall, imperious figure with a trim white beard and a regal, very un-Jedi-like cloak stood next to her, his eyes also on the tree.

“Comforting, isn’t it?” Count Dooku said, folding his hands behind his back without looking at her.

“Yes. Very,” Ahsoka managed, resisting the urge to stare openly at the Count. Well—he wasn’t a Count yet. He was still a Jedi. Technically. He hadn’t left the Order until after… after… Qui-Gon’s death. 

Dooku was just a few months away from becoming a Sith. Like when Ahsoka had come face-to-face with Palpatine, a wild thought occurred to her that she might slice his head clean off at that moment and save the galaxy, but she dismissed it as quickly as it’d appeared. Killing Dooku would not stop Palpatine, and besides, this was broad daylight in the heart of the Temple. 

“I haven’t seen you in the Temple before,” Dooku said, still looking straight ahead. 

“That’s… correct.” 

“If I were a less observant person, I’d ask what your business is here, but you are staring up at this tree like a drowning man sighting land.”

“...Okay.” She couldn’t argue with that. 

Dooku didn’t say anything else, leaving Ahsoka to wonder if she should say something (what could she possibly say to this man) until a shout from behind them drew their attention. 

“Master Dooku!” 

A Jedi in a headrobe pulled up next to them and bent over, putting her hands on her knees and sucking down great gulps of air.  “Message—for—you—Master,” she said between gasping breaths, reaching for a datapad that was clipped to her waist and holding it out to Dooku, still bent over. 

“Thank you.” Dooku accepted the datapad and gave it a cursory glance before tucking it away. “Did you run all this way, Knight Unduli?” 

Unduli? 

The other Jedi finally looked up, and Ahsoka clamped down on a fresh wave of emotion as she recognized green Mirialan skin and tattoos.

“The turbolift was broken,” a much younger Luminara Unduli said, rearranging her headrobes and making a valiant effort to collect herself. She actually sounded sheepish, which was a foreign concept to Ahsoka. Luminara Unduli did not sound sheepish. 

“There are other ways to scale a building that do not require wasting your breath,” Dooku said. And with that, he turned on his heel and departed at a brisk walk, leaving Ahsoka to try and piece together the meaning behind any of his words.

Luminara was watching her closely, almost to the point of uncomfortableness. 

“Was Master Dooku talking to you?” she said, her voice almost awed. “Of his own free will?”

“Yes?” Ahsoka said. 

“Consider yourself lucky. He doesn’t talk to anyone anymore unless he has to.” 

“Oh.” Ahsoka was having trouble paying attention to the conversation as she took in Luminara, processing the weirdness that was seeing yet another former mentor figure now the same age as her. This couldn’t have been long after her knighting.

“What did he say?” Luminara asked. 

“Nothing much. Small talk.” 

“Oh.” There was a pause, and then Luminara straightened. “Forgive me.” She bowed, her voice taking on the composed tone that Ahsoka was much more familiar with. “Luminara Unduli, Jedi Knight.” 

Ahsoka bowed back. “Ahsoka Tano.” 

She didn’t know what rank to give herself, and she could tell from Luminara’s questioning look that the other Jedi had noticed, but thankfully Luminara didn’t ask about it.

“Small talk from Master Dooku?” she said instead. “He doesn’t seem like that kind of person.”

“What kind of person is he?” Ahsoka said, trying not to sound too blatantly curious. 

Luminara furrowed her brow in thought. “It’s hard to say. I’ve never exchanged more than a few words with him. There are rumors about why he’s become so withdrawn, but I’m not one to speculate.”

“Please speculate,” Ahsoka said. At Luminara’s dubious look (another familiar thing), she shrugged. “It’s… Everything about him is speculation at this point.”

Which was true. Dooku’s turn to the Dark Side had been a mystery to the Order right up until his death. 

“I—” Luminara paused, her next words careful and deliberate. “The word around the Temple is that he believes the Order could be doing more to intervene in galactic affairs.”

Well, Ahsoka agreed with him on that, at least. Maybe she could do something with that. 

Working with Dooku. The thought was surreal enough to make her head spin. It was probably impossible. Probably.

She’d think about it later—it was time to return to the Council.

“I have to go. It was a pleasure to meet you, Master Unduli,” Ahsoka said. And then, realizing her verbal slip,  she decided to leave immediately. 

Luminara’s receding voice carried through the air to her, confused but also with a tone of slight flatterment. “Thank you, but I’m still a Knight.”

“Ah, there you are,” Qui-Gon said, turning to look as Ahsoka stepped out of the turbolift and back into the Council antechamber. “We were just about to go looking for you.”

“Oh?” Ahsoka said, raising her brow. “And how were you planning to find me?”

“I put a tracker in your boots on Tatooine,” Qui-Gon said.

Ahsoka let out a peal of laughter, and then stopped when she realized Qui-Gon wasn’t laughing with her. She stared at his half-smirking expression, and—

“You aren’t kriffing serious.”

“Check the flap on the left shoe,” he said, turning to face the Council doors. 

Ahsoka reached down, fiddled with her boot, and sure enough, there was a slit in the leather that hadn’t been there before. Reaching two fingers in, she withdrew a small metal disk. She stared at it for a few seconds.

“In my defense, I never actually used it,” Qui-Gon said.

“I’m flattered.” Ahsoka thought about it for a second, and then glanced sideways at the other Jedi. “Did Obi-Wan use it?”

“No!” Obi-Wan said, looking almost affronted. 

“Had to check.” 

“Now really, what have you been up to?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“Touring the Temple,” she said in reply. “I wanted to see how the architecture has changed.”

“And?”

“It’s changed.” 

Qui-Gon’s questioning glance only deepened. 

“I got lost.”

Qui-Gon rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should keep the tracker.”

Ahsoka smacked the tracker into his still-outstretched hand.

And then the doors to the Council Room opened. The first thing Ahsoka saw was Anakin standing in the center of the room, watching them with wide eyes, but what she had not expected was for Shmi to be there with him, her hands planted firmly on his shoulders.

“See you now, the Council will,” Yoda said, inclining his head for them to enter. 

Ahsoka gave Anakin a smile as she entered, and she was rewarded with a nervous-but-not-hysterically-so smile from him and a nod from Shmi. That was definitely an improvement over the emotional state of “So scared I almost kicked Master Yoda in the knee,” which was how Old Anakin had once described his first meeting with the Council to Ahsoka.

“Greetings, Masters,” Qui-Gon said, bowing. “I’ll get right to it. What have you decided about Anakin?”

There was no pause before Windu replied. “We will not train him.”

“What?” Qui-Gon’s mouth fell open, displeasure plain in his Force presence. 

“He is too old.”

Once again, Ahsoka reminded herself that this was supposed to happen. She remembered Anakin telling her about this. The Council had rejected him the first time, and then after the Battle of Naboo their stance had changed. Even if Anakin didn’t really know what had changed.

Qui-Gon put his hands on his hips. “He is the chosen one. You must see it!”

Yoda leaned forward as if to speak, but he was beaten to the punch by Shmi. 

“The Chosen One?” She stepped towards Qui-Gon, putting herself between Anakin and him, and stared him dead in the eyes. “Chosen to do what?” 

Ahsoka could hear the knife-edge in Shmi’s voice, and had the feeling things were about to go very wrong. 

Qui-Gon heard it too, but he couldn’t do anything except press his lips together in a tight line and reply. “It’s an ancient Jedi prophecy.”

“What does this prophecy say, exactly?” Shmi said.

“There are… contested wordings.” 

“Contested wordings,” Shmi repeated. “In other words, you don’t know what it says.” 

“The prophecy states that the Chosen One will be born of no father,” Qui-Gon said, shoring himself up. “You yourself said that—” 

“I know what I said about Anakin’s birth.” Shmi laid a hand on Anakin’s shoulder in a way that made it clear she wouldn’t be talking about it in detail with him present. “Have you also considered that there are a thousand ways to interpret something like that?”

Ahsoka looked back and forth between Shmi and Qui-Gon, wondering if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Anakin needed to be a Jedi, but… Well, she wasn’t going to contradict Shmi. 

“What about those born from a species that has more than two sexes, and therefore can be born of no father? How many Jedi are there like that in the Order? What about those born from a species that reproduces without mating, and therefore have no concept of a father? What about those born from two mothers, rather than a mother and a father? What about a clone?” Shmi glanced down, squeezing Anakin’s shoulder, and then looked up again, her eyes glittering with something deadly. “How do you know I did not lie to you about Anakin’s parenthood in an effort to make him seem more mystical to you and therefore more likely to be freed?”

“You wouldn’t—” Qui-Gon broke off, gathering himself, and spoke in a much softer tone, folding his arms together.  “Finding him was the will of the Force.”

“Oh, and was finding me also the will of the Force?” Ahsoka said. She’d meant it half as a joke, but then Qui-Gon gave her an incredibly strange look, while Shmi looked triumphant, bolstered by her words. 

“Who’s to say she isn’t your Chosen One?” Shmi said, gesturing to Ahsoka. “You found her alone in the desert, half-buried in the sand, as if the wind itself brought her to you. I would certainly find more mysticism in that.” 

Ahsoka had to resist the urge to burst out laughing. Oh, if Shmi knew the half of it—

“Do you have a father?” Shmi said, turning to look fully at Ahsoka.

“Uh.” Ahsoka stopped, thought about it, and decided to answer with complete truthfulness. “I don’t know. I was taken to the Jedi at a young age. I never knew my parents, and the Jedi who took me to Coruscant only ever met my mother.” She couldn’t help but notice Plo Koon’s amused twitch out of the corner of her eye. 

“I repeat, Qui-Gon Jinn,” Shmi said, her voice growing quiet, “There is as much proof for Ahsoka being the chosen one as there is for Anakin.”

…Shmi was making a weird amount of sense. More than it should’ve. And time travel was rather mystical. Was she…? 

Ahsoka decided to think about that later. 

“I think it bears mentioning that there is another interpretation of the prophecy where there is no reference to fatherlessness at all,” Oppo Rancisis said from behind them, his voice crackling with merriment. 

“Master Rancisis,” Qui-Gon groaned, as Shmi rounded on him yet again, looking every inch his match. 

“And what exactly is the Chosen One chosen to do, Qui-Gon Jinn?”

Qui-Gon didn’t reply immediately, instead casting a helpless glance around the room. When his eyes passed over Ahsoka, she shook her head. 

Not getting any help from me, buddy. She was thoroughly enjoying this, actually. She wasn’t a fan of prophecies, after all. The last time she’d dealt with talk about a prophecy, it had been on Mortis, where the Father, Son, and Daughter also thought Anakin was the Chosen One, they’d been Extremely Weird to him about it, and things went very, very badly after that. The ten minutes that Anakin had been on the Dark Side after being turned by the Son were terrifying. She’d never been so glad to get off a planet. 

Qui-Gon, finding no help in any corner, sighed. “The Chosen One is prophesied to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force,” he said to Shmi.

Shmi raised an eyebrow. “The Sith would be the ancient enemies of the Jedi Order, who can throw lightning from their palms and drain life from entire planets at a time?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka said, before anyone else could reply. “And they seem to be making a comeback.”

“How convenient,” Shmi said. She turned and moved herself closer to Anakin again, facing Yoda and Windu with a deep breath.

“Members of the Council,” she said, and Ahsoka couldn’t believe how calm her tone was just seconds after all that. 

“We give you much gratitude for freeing us,” Shmi said. “However, I am also thankful that you refuse to train Anakin, because I will not have him associated with the prophecy in any way.”

Windu blinked, and then nodded. “Well, Madame Skywalker, I’m glad you don’t disagree with our decision not to train him, but… I feel obliged to mention that the Council does not consider Anakin to be the subject of the prophecy.” He glanced down at Anakin, and his tone softened. “And even if we did, we would not force him to conform to the prophecy. Whoever we believe to be the Chosen One, we will treat them as we would any other Jedi. We would not ask them to do anything they cannot do.”

Shmi inclined her head. “I do believe that, Mace Windu. Consciously, you would not do such a thing. But unconsciously… The prophecy would be in your thoughts. It is a dangerous thing to have in your thoughts. I have watched prophecy hold people captive just as powerfully as any slaver, with far less substance. There is a prophecy of legend that has circled Tatooine since before the Hutts, telling of a warrior who will walk out of the desert with the power to slay dragons, who will free all the slaves in one single blow. There are some of us who spend their lives watching the dunes, waiting for someone to emerge from them. It eats at them. It roots them to the same spot. After a time, it is all they have left.” Shmi was quiet for a moment, and then she looked aside to Ahsoka. “I saw the warrior come out of the desert, I saw her slay a dragon, and she only freed two of us.” 

Ahsoka’s breath caught in her throat as Shmi’s words sank in, and twin waves of shame and confusion rose up in her. 

“There were others who walked out of the desert. There were others who slayed a Krayt Dragon, or had the power to. And there were many, many others who did not free all of us. Perhaps Ahsoka Tano will go back and free the rest of Tatooine’s slaves,” Shmi said. “And perhaps she won’t. It would be cruel of me to assume either of those things.”

Ahsoka almost looked away again, but Shmi met her eyes and gave her a nod before returning to a straight-ahead gaze, staring down Windu and Yoda. “I cannot predict how much the prophecy will unconsciously influence your treatment of him, and I will not take such a risk with my son.”

The Council exchanged looks, curiosity and questioning and maybe a little bit of embarrassment resonating throughout the room. Yoda, for his part, was smiling knowledgeably. “Teaching us much, you are, Shmi Skywalker,” he said, sounding oddly reflective. “Meditate on this, we all must.”

Shmi smiled. “Good.” 

Qui-Gon cleared his throat, pulling all attention back to him. “That doesn’t solve the issue at hand. Anakin is incredibly strong in the Force. He must be trained.” 

Ahsoka wasn’t sure if he was appealing to Shmi or to the Council, but it was Shmi who replied, swinging back to him.

“And who exactly would train him?” 

“Well.” Qui-Gon seemed all too aware of the dangerous look on Shmi’s face. But then, sensing that not answering Shmi right now would be akin to poking a sleeping rathtar, (a fact which she was practically broadcasting to everyone in the room), he swallowed and pressed on. 

“I wished for a member of the Council to train him, but since they refuse, I will train him myself.”

“Over my dead body,” Shmi said. 

“Mom!” Anakin said, speaking for the first time, half-afraid but also half-embarrassed. 

“Master Qui-Gon, an apprentice you have already. Forbidden, taking two is,” Yoda added. 

Qui-Gon, visibly grateful for the chance to respond to someone beside Shmi, practically sprang to reply. “Obi-Wan is ready to face the trials.”

Ahsoka blinked. She didn’t remember Anakin or Obi-Wan ever telling her about this. She’d always just assumed that Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship had naturally come to an end, but this… this sounded like Qui-Gon was pushing Obi-Wan out to get Anakin. And sure enough, glancing sideways at Obi-Wan, she knew he hadn’t seen this coming either. 

Oh sure, Obi-Wan was putting up a very good facade in the Force right now, but she’d seen the surprise that flashed across his face for an instant, and she didn’t even need to see that. The Obi-Wan she knew wouldn’t have even let the surprise show, and over the years, she had gotten very good at recognizing when he was swallowing down a maelstrom of feelings. Sometimes there was one muscle in his neck that twitched just like how it was twitching now. 

She couldn’t tell if this was how it was supposed to go or if something was different, but either way she felt obliged to defend him. Obi-Wan stepped forward, making as if to speak, but Ahsoka cut him off. 

“Have you asked him if he’s ready?” she asked. 

“He’s ready,” Qui-Gon said, at the same instant that Obi-Wan said, “I’m ready.” They both glanced at each other, and then just as quickly looked away. 

“He’s not ready,” Shmi said, saying the words that had been on Ahsoka’s lips. “And even if he was ready, I will not leave him to your tutelage. You think too much about this prophecy. You cannot even say you’ll try to treat my son equitably, because you do believe he is the Chosen One, and that will influence your every action towards him. I will not let my son, who has just become free, be taught by someone who thinks his destiny is so set in stone. It will shrink his freedom.”

Qui-Gon had gone deathly pale, his face sunken. He had no reply. Shmi glanced around the Council, her voice clear and bold. “I think we are done here.”

Wait. No. Ahsoka’s silent cheering for Shmi came to an abrupt stop as she realized where this had led. Anakin wouldn’t be trained at all. If Qui-Gon couldn’t do it, neither could Obi-Wan, and no one else in the Order would want to do it—and that would leave Anakin defenseless against… against… Everything. This wasn’t a friendly galaxy. What if the Sith got their hands on Anakin? Even if she couldn’t stop the Empire, the least she could do was give her friends a fighting chance! This was the opposite!

Her mind raced, searching for something, anything to keep the conversation going. At least something that would prevent the Skywalkers from leaving the room. And then she had a terrible idea. She spoke before she could convince herself not to do it.

“Masters?” she said, drawing almost every eye in the room toward her. “What do you mean, he’s too old? He doesn’t look more than nine standard years.”

Shmi, halfway to the door with Anakin, whipped around in surprise, and Ahsoka winced, remembering the conversation she’d had with her on Padme’s ship about Jedi age requirements, which clearly demonstrated that she should know much better than to ask such an obvious question. She dearly hoped Shmi wouldn’t blow her cover.

But Shmi only made a noise of agreement. The Council, meanwhile, had a distinct sense of concern.

Windu looked at Yoda. Yoda looked at Windu. Finally, Windu sighed and spoke. 

“Master Tano,” he said slowly, looking quite unaccustomed to doing this. “We’ll do our best to summarize this, but later on we will need to fully explain to you something called the Ruusan Reformations.” 

Ahsoka nodded, barely able to keep her expression blank.

“To summarize, the code has changed dramatically. For about a millennium, we have required the training of Jedi to start within the first several years after birth. Initiates older than several standard years, or their equivalent in other species, are not allowed. Anakin is too old by six or seven years.”

Ahsoka stared at Windu and Yoda, letting mock disbelief flood into her expression. “You can’t be kriffing serious.” The swear set off a disapproving cluck from several masters, but she ignored it. “That’s what’s keeping you from training Anakin? What kind of idiotic rule is that?”

“Master Tano, we had our reasons, and this may not be the time—”

Ahsoka raised her voice to a level of indignation that wasn’t entirely fake, because kriff it, Anakin deserved to be trained. “No. This is the time. This is absolutely the time. I want to know what in the eleven hells the Jedi Order was thinking when they came up with that.” 

Thankfully, Shmi looked content to watch Ahsoka have it out with the Council, even if she wasn’t really sure where she was going with this.

“Learned much after the New Sith Wars, we did. Too easily led astray, older initiates are. Impossible for them to receive proper training, it is,” Yoda said.

Ahsoka shook her head violently, her lekku almost smacking Obi-Wan in the face. “Grand Master Zym is rolling in his grave! He didn’t join the Order until he was fifteen!”

“Look—” Windu held up a hand, thinking. “I understand how it looks to you. But in the six thousand years before we enacted this rule, there were almost countless Jedi who crossed over to the Order of the Sith. And since enacting this rule, while there have been a few fallen Jedi, none have risen to the level of the Sith of old.”

Damn. He had a pretty compelling point. Good thing Ahsoka had some of her own. “Yeah, well, now they seem to be rising again.” She paused, remembering how the holocron had detailed the enormous size of the Jedi Order in the centuries leading up to the Great Galactic War. “How can you possibly have enough Jedi to keep peace and justice in the galaxy when you’re removing ninety-five percent of potential Jedi from consideration? How many Jedi are there now?” 

Windu, visibly reluctant, told her. Ahsoka let loose a ferocious swear in response, and she wasn’t doing much acting there. The size difference was… Well, she would’ve liked to see Palpatine try to destroy the Jedi Order of the Old Republic.

“Master Tano, language, please.”

“A resurgent Sith Order could destroy us in a matter of years! If there’s one, who knows how many more there could be?”

“Please try to remain calm. I understand that you are coming from a time when there were an unimaginable number of Sith, but this reoccurrence has every indication of being much, much smaller than the Sith Order of your time.”

“You don’t know that.” Ahsoka knew she wasn’t exactly being accurate, but if she could induce more wariness of the Sith than last time, maybe that would help. Anyways, help Anakin. That was her real objective right now. Besides, if she kept talking about the Sith, Shmi was going to end up thinking Ahsoka just wanted Anakin to be one more warm body to throw at the Sith. 

She took a deep breath, refocusing. “Look, even if I ignore numbers, even if I ignore the Sith, an Order made solely of people raised amongst the Jedi from birth is a terrible idea.”

She’d spent years trying to figure out how they’d never noticed Sidious when he was right there, not a single Jedi out of the thousands on Coruscant, and sometimes she considered maybe it was because every single Jedi grew up in the Temple, just a few klicks away from Sidious’s base of power. That constant presence of the Dark Side would’ve dulled their senses, maybe to the point that they couldn’t recognize it until it was screaming in their face.

“Yes, growing up in one of the Temples is wonderful. That’s how I grew up, and it was perfect for me. But you need Jedi who grew up elsewhere. Jedi who know other ways of life. Jedi who can offer a different perspective. Jedi like Anakin. He grew up in a place the Republic has paid little attention to.” She broke off, thinking, trying to draw a line through her whirling thoughts. “—How do you find children that young, anyways? I always felt like it was easier to find a Force-sensitive kid when they were older.”

“The Republic tests for midichlorian levels at birth.”

“What about planets the Republic doesn’t reach? When was the last time you had a Jedi from Tatooine?”

Windu was silent for a moment. “I could look it up, but I think the fact I need to do that tells you what you need to know,” he said finally. 

“What about just Jedi from the Outer Rim?” Ahsoka shook her head before anyone could offer an answer. “I know it’s not enough. You’re not getting many initiates from there without accepting older ones. How can the Order serve all of the galaxy? When was the last time the Republic paid any attention to Tatooine?” 

No reply.

“One of the chief goals of the Jedi has always been to eradicate slavery. I don’t know for sure how much progress has been made, but Tatooine still has slavery. Without Jedi from the Rim, you’re not going to end it there. You need older initiates. Like Anakin.”

She stopped there, waiting for a response, but none came. Instead, a glance around the chamber revealed that the Council was listening. They didn’t seem entirely convinced, but they were hearing her out. 

This was so different from the Council meetings she remembered. Those had always been uptight, hurried, on edge. Now she realized she’d been seeing the eroding effect of the Dark Side in action. The Council’s senses had been dulled so much during the war, each of them ground down into nothingness, and now Ahsoka was finally seeing them in all the sharpness they deserved.

It made her… hopeful. The Dark Side was present now, of course it was, but it wasn’t constantly on the edge of everyone’s senses the way it had been towards the end of the war, and maybe she could convince them of what needed to be done. Eventually.

Ahsoka took a breath, centering herself and pulling back the frenetic undertone to her voice before speaking again. “You need Jedi who have grown up in the heart of what goes against everything you stand for and have survived despite it all. You need Jedi who know the inner workings of an institution you cannot even begin to comprehend. You need Jedi who have made themselves all the more kind and compassionate despite what they have suffered, who have resisted hardening. Jedi like Anakin.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anakin standing a little straighter, and she was proud.

“He knows things we don’t.”

Some of this lecture came from Old Anakin’s mouth, some of this she’d thought of on her own after listening to him, and some of this stuff she was thinking up on the spur of the moment. When she’d started talking, putting together disjointed thoughts from years of experience, she wasn’t sure how much of it she’d believe—she’d never given much thought to this issue, but now… Why shouldn’t the Jedi accept older initiates? After all, her master was a shining example of what was possible.

“My master wasn’t found by the Jedi until he was Anakin’s age,” Ahsoka said, her voice even. “And he was the best Jedi I ever knew. By far. I know Anakin can be the same.” 

With that, she waited for the Council’s answer, watching them.

“Congratulate yourself, you should,” Yoda said, leaning forward, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

“Why?” Ahsoka’s heart leapt. 

“Made a compelling argument, you have. Debate it, we must,” Yoda said. But then his smile vanished, and he pointed a wizened finger at Anakin. “However, unfit for the Order, he is. Clouded, his future is.”

“Clouded?” Ahsoka glanced back at Shmi, whose exasperated expression suggested that she’d heard this already. “My master’s future was clouded. My future was clouded. Why look into the future when you can see what’s right in front of you?” 

“Too much is in motion.”

“I disagree.” Ahsoka threw up her hands. “I’ll tell you what’s not in motion. Anakin took us into his home on Tatooine—not an easy task to do when your home is a tiny dwelling—without a second thought, because we would’ve been caught in the sandstorm. He was ready to enter a podrace for us, risking his life to help some offworlders he’d only known for a few minutes, and he offered that before he knew we were going to free him. He’s selfless. He wants to help. That’s what’s at the core of every Jedi.” She glanced back and forth, and then abandoned her last pretence of restraint. “I don’t know what it says about the state of the Jedi today if nobody sees what I see.”

The torrent of words over, Ahsoka closed her mouth, suddenly feeling very tired.

The Council exchanged unreadable glances with the exception of Yoda, who had sank back into his chair, deep in thought. Ahsoka watched him carefully. She could never predict what he thought, but if they still refused to train Anakin after this, then… then…

And then Shmi Skywalker stepped into the breach.

“That is exactly what I hoped for,” she said, her voice resounding through the room. “Members of the Jedi Council, I want Ahsoka Tano to train my son.” 

Ahsoka froze as if struck in the spine with an electrostaff, Shmi’s words washing over her. She turned, trying to shake her head, but she seemed to have forgotten how to work her neck muscles, and when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. She could not find the voice to say no, to say I can’t.  

Long after that, Ahsoka would remember the expressions of pure surprise on every Council member, the sheer betrayal on Qui-Gon’s face as he put his hands on his hips, Obi-Wan looking anywhere except at his master, Anakin watching Ahsoka with a starry-eyed gaze, Shmi smiling with extreme satisfaction, the feeling of a great tidal wave rising up in the Force, and then—

And then the arguing began.

Chapter Text

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Focus. 

Don’t think about—damn it, you’re thinking about—

As the engines of Padmé’s ship warmed up and the last of her detail climbed aboard, Ahsoka stood on the landing platform, trying to center herself. But balance was frustratingly out of reach. When she reached for the Force, the blatant differences of this new Coruscant prevented her from settling. Everything felt less frantic, more natural. No sickly tinge of exhaustion, fear, decay, weariness yet. That should’ve felt like paradise, but it was actually throwing her off. She was bracing for a punch to the stomach and receiving a gentle caress on the cheek instead. 

“Master Tano?” 

The tentative voice drew her out of her trance, and she looked up to see Obi-Wan standing at the top of the ramp.

“We’re about to lift off,” he said.  

Ahsoka nodded. “Coming.” 

When she didn’t immediately move, Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. “You… might want to hurry. I don’t think Master Jinn particularly cares if he leaves you behind.”

“Right.” Ahsoka stared at Obi-Wan. Right now, there was almost none of that assured ease that was so familiar to Ahsoka from the years she’d known him, and its absence made him look so much younger. He didn’t look ready to rescue a planet. Even knowing what had happened, she found herself desperately wondering, how had Naboo been saved by him, Qui-Gon, teenage Padmé, and a boy? How was she supposed to save Naboo this time?

And this time around, they didn’t even have Anakin to help—he was staying on Coruscant with Shmi—and unfortunately, that was exactly how she wanted it. She didn’t care that Anakin had blown up the droid control ship himself! He was a child. No matter what, he did not belong in a war zone. She’d just have to make things work without him.

Her current plan was to prevent Qui-Gon’s death, kill Maul as fast as possible, and then blow up the droid control ship herself. She hated how shaky that felt. 

Force, she wished there were other Jedi on this mission. She wanted to demand the Council send some of its own to fight Maul. But everything had happened so quickly after Shmi’s declaration. The Council had begun arguing ferociously (with Shmi or with Ahsoka or with themselves, she couldn’t tell) and then Windu had silenced all corners by reminding them there was still a planet to be freed—and then Qui-Gon, his face scrunched like he’d just received the worst news of his life, had declared that the Queen’s shuttle would be departing immediately and that anyone who wanted to come would need to follow him or they would be left behind. Ahsoka immediately sensed his words were aimed at her, and only her, so without any other choice, she’d followed Qui-Gon out of the Temple before she could spend so much as a sentence telling the Council to take the threat of Maul seriously.

Qui-Gon just had to make it harder to prevent his own death, didn’t he. 

She heaved a sigh and started for the ramp. At least she had plenty of experience in outgunned, undermanned, overmatched missions. 

She had only taken three steps when Obi-Wan saw something over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Ahsoka turned—what now?— and saw… Shmi and Anakin?

“What… What are you doing here?” she said, noticing all at once the pack on Shmi’s back, the bandolier she’d affixed to her clothing, and the new blaster holstered at her side.

“We would like to go to Naboo with you,” Shmi said. 

Ahsoka stared at her. Then she stared down at Anakin, who was looking up at her with big eyes. He’d acquired a new set of clothing, one that was more suited to… suited to the climate of Naboo. At least he didn’t have a blaster. 

“No,” she said immediately. “I can’t take either of you into an active warzone.” 

“We know the risk. And we want to come in spite of it,” Shmi said.

“Is this because I said I won’t train Anakin?” 

In the Council room, in between the loud protests of various Jedi (“She’s not part of the Order yet!” “A parent cannot choose a teacher for her son!” “Tano is not following the code!” “We don’t even know who she is!” “Are we sure she’s a Jedi?”), Ahsoka had managed to find her voice. And Shmi had not liked her answer. 

“Can’t,” Shmi said.

“What?”

“You said that you can’t train Anakin, not that you won’t.”

Shmi was right, and Ahsoka was wishing she’d chosen her words better.

“Why can’t you do it?” Shmi said, shifting the weight of her pack. “Is it something about Anakin?”

“No, it’s not him, it’s…” Ahsoka looked off to the right, tracking a random speeder as she struggled for an answer. Telling Shmi ‘Anakin was my master and my dear friend and I wouldn’t trust myself to turn him into as good a person as he was’ wasn’t an option, but she also didn’t know if anything else would satisfy her.  

“I’m just not the right person to do it,” she said finally. “There must be another Jedi who will be a better fit.”

Shmi shook her head. “If this is about you being from the past… I certainly am not worried about it. You were quite up to date on the Jedi codes of today when I talked to you. Even if you felt the need to hide that knowledge from the Council.” 

“See, that’s why I would be a terrible choice to train him,” Ahsoka said hurriedly. “If I can lie to the Council, who knows what else I’m capable of?” 

Shmi gave her a stony look. 

“Okay. Yeah.” Ahsoka felt ashamed for even trying that. “Never mind.” 

Shmi didn’t say anything, leaving it to Ahsoka to continue. Something else she’d said was pulsing in the back of her head. 

“Shmi,” she said. “How do you… believe I’m from the past so easily? Everyone else has so many questions.”

Shmi gave her a considering look. “You wouldn’t be the first person in the history of Tatooine to become lost in time amongst the dunes. The Tuskens were always very careful to avoid that.” She paused, Ahsoka sensing more words on her tongue. “And there’s something else.” 

Ahsoka tilted her head questioningly. 

“You feel… different from everyone else.”

“Different.” 

Shmi nodded. “I can’t explain it beyond that.”

Ahsoka looked at Shmi for a long moment, and then decided that was a matter for another time. 

“Master Tano! We’re lifting off!” Obi-Wan sounded more than a little stressed.

“Okay! Coming!” Ahsoka gave Shmi a shake of her head that she hoped was both apologetic and firm. “I’ve got to go. And, I’m sorry, but you can’t come.” 

Shmi didn’t budge. “I think being from the past is your greatest strength, Ahsoka Tano. It’s freed you from a fascination with destiny.”

“I—” Ahsoka resisted the urge to reply that technically, she was the most fascinated with destiny out of everyone.

“I’ve never cared for destiny,” Shmi continued. “The slavers always used it as proof that we were meant to serve. You view my son as a person who has his own choices.” 

“I’m sure there’s other Jedi that see him that way,” Ahsoka said. “Maybe I could help you find one. Like Obi-Wan! Uh, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I think he would be a great fit,” she said, silently wishing she had more finesse in changing topics. 

“Him?” Shmi raised an eyebrow. “He seems courteous, but Qui-Gon Jinn just tried to use Anakin to replace him. He wouldn’t respond well to being asked to train him.”

“Oh.” That left Ahsoka at a loss for words, because what was supposed to happen if she couldn’t reunite Anakin and Obi-Wan?

“I know it’s something about Anakin stopping you,” Shmi said. “And I know it’s not his age.”

Ahsoka looked down at Anakin again, trying not to let a memory rise up in her mind for once. “...You’re right about that.”

Shmi folded her arms. “Which is why we are following you to Naboo. If it’s familiarity with Anakin that you need, he can prove himself quite well.”

“Prove himself—” Ahsoka worked through the meaning of that. “You want to help with the invasion?”

“Master Tano!” Now Qui-Gon had joined Obi-Wan on the ramp. “I am raising this ramp in sixty seconds!”

“We want to help the Queen, after how she has helped us,” Shmi said.

“Okay. I get that, but—I’m sorry, I cannot,” Ahsoka said finally. “Even if I did want to train Anakin, I just could not let you come to Naboo in good conscience. There is going to be a Sith Lord there. He will not hesitate to kill you both. There is going to be a droid army capable of taking an entire planet prisoner. They will not care about the lives of two civilians.”

Shmi frowned in thought as Ahsoka’s words hung heavy in the air with unspoken implications; Ahsoka hoped that she wasn’t pushing Shmi away. However, the solemnity was somewhat ruined by Qui-Gon shouting, “Forty seconds!”

Finally, Shmi nodded. “I understand. That is more than fair.” 

“Thank you.” Ahsoka was about to turn and head for the boarding ramp when something else occurred to her. “—Do you have a place to stay?”  

“Thankfully, yes. The Queen is letting us stay in her quarters indefinitely, and she said that we’d be provided for no matter what happened.” 

Ahsoka nodded. “Oh. Good.”

“And Senator Palpatine has kindly offered to guide us through the process of acquiring Republic citizenship.”

The words hit Ahsoka like a battering ram, leaving her genuinely speechless as Shmi took Anakin’s hand and started for the Temple steps, where a speeder awaited. A speeder that would take them directly into the hands of Sidious.

“Twenty seconds!” Qui-Gon called.

Ahsoka tried to get her words out so quickly that they only formed as an unrecognizable shout, which at least stopped Shmi. She turned, giving her a questioning look. 

“You can come!” Ahsoka finally managed, struggling to make herself heard over the hum of the engines spooling up. “I’ve changed my mind!”

Shmi’s face morphed into confusion and then pleased surprise, and she didn’t waste a second in returning.

Ahsoka ushered them towards the ship, and she had to resist the urge to pick them up and carry them inside. Nausea roiled through her. Sidious would easily sense Anakin’s Force power. What if he tried to kidnap Anakin and make him his apprentice? If he had—if he’d—No, she wasn’t going to think about that. She wasn’t ever going to think about what he could do to Anakin. 

They hurried up into the ship just in time. Ahsoka had just gotten both feet on the ramp when Qui-Gon jabbed the ‘close’ button on the control panel, which sent them all tumbling to the floor.  

“This doesn’t mean I’m training him,” Ahsoka said warningly as she helped Anakin to his feet, checking him over.

Shmi only gave her a knowing smile that she really didn’t know how to respond to.

With several hours of hyperspace travel ahead, Ahsoka needed sleep. She made a beeline for the sleeping quarters and, finding a room that looked unoccupied, slipped inside. 

Only to find Padmé curled up in one of the bunks, her back to the door and her body shaking almost imperceptibly. 

Ahsoka stopped, realizing she was intruding on something very vulnerable, but Padmé noticed her before she could back out. She rolled over just enough to crane her head at Ahsoka, and there were hints of redness around her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Ahsoka said. “I’ll go—”

“No, it’s fine.” Padmé pushed herself into a sitting position and smoothed over her robes. She wiped rapidly at her eyes, her features melting into an impassive mask. “I just needed… a moment.” She paused, and then gave Ahsoka a tense look. “—How long have you known I am the Queen?” 

Ah. Oops. Padmé was still in her handmaiden disguise. 

“Jedi senses,” she said immediately, because that wasn’t even a lie. “It’s fairly easy to tell you and your handmaidens apart through the Force.”

Padmé relaxed somewhat. “And it was only because of that?”

“Yes. You might be very different in the Force, but on appearances alone…” Ahsoka cocked her head, calling up Sabé’s face in her mind. It stunned her that they weren’t related. “You’ll fool anyone who isn’t Force-sensitive.”

“I suppose that means the other Jedi have not been fooled, either.”

“Nope.” 

“Is there a way to fool a Jedi into thinking we’re the same person?” 

“Uh. I have no idea. I’m probably not the one to ask about that, though.” 

“Hm. Perhaps Master Yoda may be able to answer that.”

“Oh, definitely. He knows everything.” Ahsoka found it a little odd that Padmé thought immediately of Yoda, but he was the Grand Master, so maybe she’d heard of him already. And she didn’t doubt he could answer the question. The hard part for Padmé would be getting a straight answer out of him.  

There was a rustle from the hallway, and then a new voice came.

“Heard my name, I did.”

Ahsoka blinked, and wondered if the insanity of time travel was starting to get to her. Because that voice and that grammar had belonged to someone who wasn’t here right now. She felt her surroundings with her montrals, which told her that there were two people of normal height in the hallway, and someone of very small stature in the doorway directly behind her.

She took a deep breath, counted to three, and turned around. 

Master Yoda, leaning on his stick and peering into the room with an arch stare, nodded in greeting. “Talking about me behind my back, are you, hmm?”

“I—well—”

Before Ahsoka had to sputter out a confused reply, Padmé stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Forgive us, Master Jedi. We were simply discussing how you might have knowledge that could be beneficial to my security team.”

Yoda chuckled and said something in reply that Ahsoka didn’t really hear, because she was too busy staring at Yoda and the two people behind Yoda, both of whom were also not supposed to be on this ship: Mace Windu and Plo Koon. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, gathering herself. “What are you doing here?” 

Mace looked at her like she was the one who had to explain herself. “I’m still not entirely sure why. Ask Master Koon how he convinced us to come with him.” 

Ahsoka turned her stare on Plo, who was trying to hide a smile under his mask.

“After you left, I suggested to the rest of the Council that perhaps we should take your word seriously when you say this Zabrak is a Sith. After all, you are the only one of us who knows what a true Sith looks like.” 

“Raised a very good point, Master Koon did,” Yoda said. 

“Besides,” Mace added, “Master Koon told us that regardless of what the rest of us thought, he would be going.” 

“Lively discussion, there was.” 

Ahsoka’s mouth fell open. 

“You believe me?” 

“Why wouldn’t we? You are… from the past, after all.” The words came out of Windu’s mouth like he was still having plenty of trouble believing them (but at least he was saying them). “Aren’t you?”

“Yes! Absolutely! I just… Uh. I’m not used to… the Council… I mean, the Council from my time, I’m not used to them making good decisions.” 

Suddenly, Plo turned away slightly, hiding his expression from them, and Ahsoka had to wonder what was going through his head at that moment. 

“What exactly were the decisions that the Council made, Master Tano?” Plo asked.

Oh, she wasn’t in the right state of mind to answer that. So she went to the Anakin Skywalker Truth Evasion Playbook for another tactic: Answer a question with another question. “When did you get on the ship? I was on the landing pad until we took off and I didn’t see you.”

“We boarded just before it left,” Mace said. “We actually passed by you.”

“Huh?”

“You were talking to Shmi Skywalker and her son,” Plo said. “It seemed to be quite an engrossing conversation.” 

“Oh.”

“Speaking of which.” Windu glanced down the hall. “Why are they with us?” 

“Uh.” Ahsoka couldn’t really tell them because there’s a Sith Lord waiting for them on Coruscant. There was only one thing that would work as an excuse, and it was exactly what she didn’t want to say. “I’m… thinking about training Anakin. So they’re with me. So I can. Observe him.” Oh, that was rich. 

Windu stared. Yoda looked mildly amused. Plo looked suspiciously deep in thought. 

“You thought the best way to evaluate his talent was to bring him to the site of an incredibly one-sided planetary invasion?” Windu said. 

Ahsoka opened her mouth to reply, and then immediately closed it when her montrals alerted her to yet another individual approaching. Only for Shmi to come into view, carrying a tray of food. She didn’t stop as she walked past, but she turned her head, making eye contact with Ahsoka, and the triumph in her eyes told Ahsoka that she’d heard what Ahsoka had just said. Great, now it was going to be even harder to tell her no. 

“Said you could not train him, you did,” Yoda said. 

Ahsoka was thoroughly out of words to reply with. She really wanted to rest. And she was considering just asking everyone to leave her alone.

“Excuse me.” Padmé’s voice cut through Ahsoka’s daze, and the four Jedi all turned to look at her. “I may be misunderstanding, but did you say she’s from the past?” 

There was a dead silence. Ahsoka looked to Yoda, who, being the most senior Jedi in the room and someone who had probably seen weirder stuff than time travel, would know how to handle this situation. Apparently, that was what Plo and Windu were thinking, because they were also looking at Yoda.  

Yoda cleared his throat. “Jedi business, that is.”

Oh, come on.

Naboo

From where Ahsoka was perched on a boulder, she could see directly onto one of Theed’s main thoroughfares, while still camouflaged by the forest. The forest abutted the city so closely here that they could wait for Jar Jar and the Gungans to engage without being spotted by droid patrols. Still, Ahsoka kept her eyes closed, perusing the Force for any sign of a threat. The forest was free of danger, but Theed itself was a maelstrom. Suffering cried out, the prison camps overflowing with bitter pulses in the Force and the pinpricks of unjust deaths. It reminded her of the Empire. In addition, somewhere out there, Maul’s dark, dense presence was waiting, perfectly still.

Previous memories of Naboo drifted through her mind, all of them unwelcome. After trying to stop a kidnapping attempt on the Chancellor, rescuing abducted Younglings from Cad Bane, and getting infected with a deadly virus, there was an argument to be made for this being her least stressful trip to the planet. Sure, they were about to wage a battle against a foe that hopelessly outnumbered them, and there was a Sith Lord waiting for them, but she knew the future. She knew exactly what had to be done.

Something was approaching somewhere to her left, and she opened one eye just in time to see Obi-Wan stumble out of the trees, flush with sweat and carrying Yoda on his back. Right behind him were Mace Windu and Plo, who had gone elsewhere to scout the Federation’s movements. If they were back, the battle would start soon.

Obi-Wan crouched down to let Yoda hop off his back and then remained in that position, catching his breath. “Master Yoda—was it really necessary to—carry you like that?” he gasped out. 

“Very necessary, it was,” Yoda said. “Tall, these roots are. Navigate them, I cannot.” 

Ahsoka slid off the rock, joining the Jedi. “You could just use the Force to jump over them.” 

“Inappropriate use of the Force, that would be.”

“That looked like inappropriate use of Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

Yoda chuckled and looked to be on the verge of some clever rebuttal when Windu spoke.

“And I hope you know just how much inappropriate action this entire operation involves, Master Tano,” He brushed a leaf off his shoulder, and then looked around. “Where are the others?” 

“Further back in the trees.” Ahsoka didn’t miss a beat with her next words. “Something’s wrong with the galaxy if the Jedi were forbidden from intervening in this.”

“It’s not forbidden,” Windu said. “It is contingent on an official request from the Senate as a body, or a petition from an individual member.” 

“So, forbidden.” 

He sighed. “I know that does not seem right, but I don’t think it’s worth having this argument again. It may be incomprehensible to you that our missions need Senate approval, but that is the only way of business in the Order that any of us have ever known.”

“I sure don’t remember the Senate ever being quick to respond to something. And it looks like it’s gotten worse.” Ahsoka considered the suffering radiating from Theed, and amended her statement. “Much, much worse.”

“I don’t deny that.”

“So why are you okay with it?”

“The Republic and the Order as we know it is built upon the thousand years of stability that the Ruusan Reformations have given us.”

“Just because it’s old doesn’t mean it still works. Are you sure this Ruusan wasn’t a Sith trying to kneecap us all?”

Mace gave her a strange look. Obi-Wan leaned over and whispered loudly, “Ruusan is a planet.”

Ahsoka gave a theatrical blink. “Oh.” 

Plo coughed in the background, possibly to disguise a bark of laughter. 

Well, it helped her cover story, but that was a genuine mistake on her part. She’d fallen asleep in class the day they covered the end of the New Sith Wars.

“I’m just saying,” she added after a moment, “It wouldn’t hurt for the Order to retain the ability to work outside the boundaries of the Senate. In case, you know, the Senate ever decides to do something that isn’t in the Republic’s best interest.”

Abruptly, Plo’s mild amusement in the Force shifted to thoughtfulness and then slight alarm. She’d been waiting for that to happen. 

“I’m not sure I like where this conversation is going,” Windu said, crossing his arms. 

“And you have reason to fear that the Senate might act against the Republic?” Plo said. 

Ahsoka dipped into her newly acquired holocron knowledge. “Are you familiar with the treaty the Senate was forced to ratify after the sacking of Coruscant in my time? The one where hundreds of unwilling star systems got handed over to the Sith Empire? At least they had no choice in that.” She waved an arm towards all of Theed. “Nobody’s forcing the Senate to ignore this. And yet.” 

Windu was silent for a long time. Ahsoka watched him with bated breath, wishing she could see what he was thinking. Sidious controlled the Senate. If the Jedi could be convinced to operate beyond the Senate’s control, that would make them far less vulnerable. 

Plo, meanwhile, had only grown more obviously worried as he worked through the meaning of Ahsoka’s words. And whatever he was thinking about the future, Ahsoka would bet it still wasn’t as bad as what’d actually happened!

“We’ve ascertained that the sector is clear,” Windu said finally. “It appears that the droid forces have been fully committed to the Gungans’ diversion.”

Ahsoka nodded, accepting that she wouldn’t be getting an answer anytime soon. 

“I also sense… many shatterpoints.” Windu turned to Ahsoka again. “Whatever happens here, it’s going to be significant. More significant than anything I’ve felt in years.” 

“Significant how?” Ahsoka said. Significant as in people dying? 

“I wish I knew.” 

“We should move on the palace as soon as possible,” Plo said. “The Gungans will sustain heavy losses.”

“You’re right.” Windu glanced left and right, tilting his head to listen to some distant current in the Force. “For all the political trouble we are risking, I am quite thankful we are here.”

Ahsoka let herself feel a glimmer of satisfaction as the three Masters (plus Obi-Wan) continued towards the rest of the infiltration force. She watched them go, not moving yet, considering the road ahead. A Grand Master, three Masters, a Padawan, and whatever the hell she was. Maul… wouldn’t know what hit him.

There was a thud followed by an oof behind her, and she turned just in time to catch Anakin before he fell headlong into her, his feet caught in a low-lying root. 

“You okay?” Ahsoka said, setting him upright. 

“Yep,” Anakin said, staring up at her with a captivated expression. Ahsoka tried, and mostly succeeded, to keep her emotions steady. He had been making that face at her almost nonstop since Shmi’s declaration to the Council.

“Be careful, Ani.” Shmi came up behind them, pushing a branch aside. “The ground here is very different.”  

Anakin huffed. “I like it. It’s not flat. And there’s so many things to climb!” 

“Please don’t climb anything,” Ahsoka said immediately. Why did Anakin’s death wish have to be a lifelong thing?  

Well, she didn’t regret this. Given the choice of bringing Anakin to an active battle or letting him share a room with Darth Sidious unguarded, she would pick the battle every time. 

“What should I do when the battle starts?” Anakin said, and the question was so out-of-the-blue that it took Ahsoka a few seconds to figure out how to respond.

“You’re going to stick as close to me and the Jedi as you can. You’re not going to go anywhere on your own. You are not going to try to shoot anything—” She stopped, thinking about it, and decided that was a little too harsh. “—unless it shoots at you first.” 

“What if a battle droid jumped out behind you and it was about to shoot you and you didn’t know, so I had to shoot it even though it didn’t shoot first because it was going to shoot you?” 

Oh Force, that sounded so General Skywalker it hurt.

“...You don’t need to worry about that, because I promise you that none of these droids are going to get the jump on me.” She cocked her head at Anakin. “Also, you don’t have a blaster.”

“What if I picked one up?” 

“Don’t pick one up.”

“Then how can I shoot at someone who shot at me first?”

Ahsoka was officially wondering how Obi-Wan had lasted ten years of training Anakin.

“I will take care of the shooting at those who shoot at us first,” Shmi said. “Am I to assume your rules apply to me as well?” 

“Yes,” Ahsoka said. “Except you can shoot.” 

On the way to Naboo, she’d taken a few hours to show Shmi how to shoot. Sabé had given them permission to use several outfits from Padmé’s wardrobe as target practice due to them being ‘no longer in fashion.’ It had been a surprisingly productive lesson.

Shmi nodded. “I will be careful.” 

“Can I use Jedi powers to fight?” Anakin said.

The easy answer was no, but Anakin asked so eagerly that Ahsoka decided it couldn’t hurt to run with the train of thought a little. “And how would you use your powers to fight?”

“Uh.” Anakin looked around. “Jedi can push people away without touching them. I’d do that. I’d push all the bad guys away and yank the guns out of their hands. And then push them over a cliff. Watch!” Without warning, he thrust his hand out towards Ahsoka. 

Ahsoka waited with a small smile. She briefly wondered if she should anchor herself to the ground with the Force, but it turned out she didn’t even need to do that. Anakin pushed his other hand at her with even more effort, scrunching his face in concentration.

“Any luck?” Ahsoka said.

Anakin frowned and let his arms flop to his side. “Why can’t I move you?”

“Well, for starters, you might have better luck if you tried moving someone who wasn’t strong in the Force. Because just as much as we can make something move, we can make something not move.” She kicked over a dead branch leaning against a nearby tree, and then froze it midair. 

“Wow,” Anakin breathed. He reached out and poked at the suspended branch, and looked even more amazed when it didn’t immediately fall. 

“Sometimes, to make an enemy run, all you need to do is not run.” Her mind went to all the years hiding without a lightsaber. That knowledge had saved her a few times. 

Anakin nodded, rapt.

Ahsoka looked to Shmi to make sure she wasn’t overstepping, only to feel a pulse of alarm when she realized Shmi was watching with an approving smile on her face.

“Anakin,” she said immediately. “Could you go to Captain Panaka—” Said captain was conferring with Padmé and the Jedi. “—and ask to borrow his scopes? I need them.” 

“Okay!” Anakin shot off, and Ahsoka watched him only long enough to ensure that he’d found Panaka, where he would stick around to listen to the strategy discussion and/or talk everyone’s ear off for a few minutes before returning. Then she turned to face Shmi, who seemed to have guessed what Ahsoka intended, because she waited until Anakin was out of listening distance before speaking.

“And you think you can’t teach him,” Shmi said.

“I would be a terrible teacher. I’ve never taught anyone—” A very unhelpful corner of her brain chose that moment to remind her of teaching cadets on Mandalore, saving younglings on Wasskah, and leading the Gathering on Ilum. “—Every kid I’ve ever had to take care of has ended up in mortal danger.” There! That wasn’t a lie! 

“Somehow, I think that Anakin is going to face danger no matter who teaches him,” Shmi said.

“He needs someone who can actually protect him.” The words came out of Ahsoka’s mouth without much thought, spoken more to try and discourage Shmi than anything else, but then—

“And you don’t think you can?”

Ahsoka froze. 

Shmi had no idea how deep those words cut into Ahsoka, no idea just how true they were. Unbidden, the image of Anakin’s lightsaber in her hands flashed through her mind, the metal cold and heavy, the crystal silent and mournful. 

“I know I can’t protect him,” she said, her voice tight and low. She turned away.  

Because I already failed once. 

“I don’t understand,” Shmi said. 

Before Ahsoka could scrape together a reply out of the depths of her self-loathing, Padmé’s voice echoed through the trees: 

“Master Tano. We’re about to move.” 

Ahsoka nodded, grateful for the distraction, and jogged towards the rest of the group, feeling Shmi’s eyes on her the entire time.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka was no longer worried about fighting Maul. In fact, the presence of more Jedi meant she wasn’t even thinking about fighting him anymore. The best place to be now was a starfighter. Partly because of her piloting experience, and partly because Anakin had told her, with incredible detail, the story of flying into the ship. Multiple times.

So, when they burst into the hangar, Ahsoka had her eyes on the ships. She didn’t even have to concentrate on deflecting the shots from the battle droids. These shots followed obvious patterns, coordinated by a central computer that was laughably predictable in comparison to the independent-minded droids of the Clone Wars that could deliver a shot from anywhere, anytime. 

If only the Separatists had tried using these droids to fight, Ahsoka thought grimly as she laid waste. The war would’ve ended before Palpatine could take over the Republic. 

After the first few shots, she didn’t even need the Force to deflect—she could simply swing her lightsaber in the direction of the next volley in the pattern. It almost went without saying that she was sending them straight back where they came from. 

Although she didn’t plan it, she ended up at the front of the group. She summoned a nearby piece of machinery and bowled over the nearest row of droids, and then checked on Anakin and Shmi—they were taking cover behind a nearby crate. Still in one piece.

“Stay down!” she hissed to them (more to assure herself that she was doing something to protect them) before jumping out to resume her assault. She slashed through one droid, deflected another shot into a retreating droid, and then realized the hangar had fallen silent. She looked around, seeing nothing but fallen droids. 

Well. That part was easier than how Anakin had described it. Then again, there hadn’t been four other Jedi with him.

The other Jedi extinguished their sabers as the Naboo pilots scrambled into their fighters, but Ahsoka kept hers ignited, scanning the hangar for any new surprises. She knew just how much could happen after someone thought a battle was over. 

The Force undulated around her, whispers suddenly growing to a quiet frenzy in her ears. She tilted her head, listening. 

Anakin’s head popped out from behind cover. “Is it safe to come out?”

“It’ll be safe when the Federation is gone,” Ahsoka said. She watched the last pilot scramble into her cockpit, and counted three ships still left in the hangar. Whether it was because Naboo lacked enough pilots to command its navy, or because some had been killed already, she wasn’t sure. But she had her opening. 

Shmi and Anakin, apparently taking her non-answer as confirmation that they could move again, were out from behind cover and following her. 

“Watch the droids,” Ahsoka said. “A rogue servo can still set off their blasters.”

Just a couple meters away, Windu nodded at the advice. “Good thinking.” He kicked at a twitching chassis, and then looked askance at her. “You have experience with battle droids?” 

Ahsoka shrugged. “The Sith liked to use them in their armies. Easier to replace than organics.” 

Windu had no response to that. 

Ahsoka strode toward the remaining starfighters, which required her to pass through a pile of still-sparking metallic torsos. She kicked aside a blank, disembodied droid head and frowned at the unfamiliar blaster type the droids used. Something felt… familiar, and not familiar. She’d never lived this battle before, but—

Suddenly, Ahsoka was fourteen again, trudging through the scorching plains of Geonosis, ignoring exhaustion and a bruised rib thanks only to the adrenaline of conquest. Blaster fire came not from over a distant craggy ridge, and the droid bits underfoot were half-buried in that gritty, sour-smelling Geonosian sand that got in every crack, corner, and crease, it was impossible to keep anything clean on that planet—lightsabers in hand, ready to— 

—But of course, she’d only had one lightsaber on Geonosis. The weight of a second lightsaber in Ahsoka’s hand was unmistakable, her most solid tether to reality in that moment, and it pulled her out of the memory. 

She blinked, staring at her surroundings. She’d stopped moving, and the Force was humming louder in her ears than ever before. But nothing appeared different, just the strike force hurrying towards the blast doors.

Her thoughts churned, trying to get a brain ensnared in recall to peer into the Force. Something was about to happen. Like a gunship hanging in the air the second before antiaircraft turbolasers blasted it apart. It felt like… the Force wanted to warn her about something, but couldn’t.

…When was Maul supposed to show up?

Ahsoka took one step towards Shmi and Anakin, feeling as if her body was responding more slowly than it ever had. 

“Shmi,” she said. “Get out of here.” 

Shmi furrowed her brow. “I thought you wanted us to stay close to you.” 

“Not now.” 

Ahsoka didn’t have time to explain why, because just then the blast doors opened, and Darth Maul was behind them. 

Maul lifted his head, and a great tidal wave of darkness rolled out from him. He’d been shielding himself until that moment. It made Obi-Wan flinch, and Mace and Yoda and Plo raised their still-unlit lightsabers. 

“Go,” Ahsoka whispered to Shmi, not taking her eyes off Maul. “Hide. Don’t come out until I find you.”

Maul was standing in a ferocious silence that unnerved Ahsoka. The one she’d known would’ve had half a diatribe done by now. Her first encounter with Maul on Tatooine had been absurd, tinted by her last strange interactions with the old one and that allowed her to distance herself then from the seriousness of facing a true Sith Lord. But here, knowing a Jedi was supposed to die and the planet was at stake, there was no oddity and no humor defanging this. She could not ignore the grim reality that if he could, he would murder them all without losing a breath.  

Either Shmi perceived the new hardness in Ahsoka’s tone, or she recognized the malevolence in Maul, because without another word she swept Anakin up in her arms and ran, straight for the other end of the hangar.

“Go on without us,” Windu said to Padmé, igniting his lightsaber. “We will take care of him.” 

With that, Yoda, Plo, Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon followed suit, igniting their lightsabers. Ahsoka, set back from the main group by her proximity to the starfighters, took a moment just to watch Shmi and Anakin slipping out a side door. When they were out of view, she allowed herself a small sigh of relief before searching for the nearest starfighter’s boarding ladder. When she found it, she looked back to consider the action. 

The strike force split in two and began moving towards opposite sides of the hangar. Maul glanced back and forth between the Jedi, taking in each of them without apparent reaction.

“You are outnumbered. Surrender,” Windu said, as he and the other Jedi moved into a wide semicircle around Maul. 

Ahsoka had her foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. The situation was under control. The droid control ship had to be blown up, and without Anakin, there was no one else to do it. And yet… She couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she should be fighting Maul. Why else would the Force warn her like this? She knew him. She knew she could beat him. Was it the right choice to ignore a guaranteed victory? 

She looked to the starfighter, looked back to the standoff, and then Maul made the decision for her. 

The Force cracked like a whip being lashed in the Force, and Padmé—just about to reach the other entrance doors—was yanked back by an invisible hand, landing at Maul’s feet, and before anyone had time to react he’d pulled her upright and pressed a suddenly-lit red saber to her throat. 

“It is you who should surrender,” Maul growled, bringing the blade so close to Padmé’s throat that Ahsoka involuntarily sucked in a breath. “Or else the Queen will die.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Ahsoka dropped off the ladder. Couldn’t go in the air now. Couldn’t risk Padmé dying. She saw only one way out of this—

“You make a bold assertion for someone who cannot tell the Queen from her own decoys,” Padmé said, her voice calm, with just a hint of confidence that had even Ahsoka wondering wait, really— 

“You are a fool,” Maul said, taking a step back, dragging Padmé with him. “I have been instructed on how to identify you and your escorts in ways that you cannot even begin to understand.” 

And Ahsoka had enough of listening to him already. Unfortunately, the only way out of this was…

“Darth Maul!” she shouted, igniting her lightsabers.

Exactly as she’d predicted, Maul recognized her voice. He lifted his gaze beyond the immediate circle of Jedi and his eyes landed on her, a mask of rage slamming down over his features. For one moment, he was completely focused on her, his saber arm lowering slightly. And exactly as Ahsoka had predicted, that one moment was all Padmé needed to fire her blaster directly into Maul’s foot and duck straight down, avoiding the jerk of his lightsaber as he staggered back with a roar of pain. 

Padmé dashed straight for her retinue, and they wasted no time in exiting the hangar as Windu, Yoda, and Plo leapt forward, slicing their sabers down at Maul in a coordinated maneuver. 

But Maul recovered in the blink of an eye, blocking the incoming blows with astonishing speed, and then he flipped over the three masters, landing in the center of the hangar. He ignited his second blade in midair, just in time to avoid a lunging strike from Qui-Gon, and didn’t even give Jinn a second glance as he hurled himself at Ahsoka before she could even think about getting into the starfighter.

“You,” he snarled, swinging first for her head and then her legs in quick succession. “You know my name. How.”

“Lucky guess.” Ahsoka ducked and then rolled, putting distance between herself and Maul—and unfortunately, putting him between her and the starfighters.

She backed up, joining the other Jedi, and now Maul seemed more cautious of approaching them, breathing like a cornered animal as he spun his lightsaber from one hand to the other, his glare never lingering on one Jedi for long.

Ahsoka glanced at Maul’s foot. There was a scorched hole in his boot where Padmé’s shot had hit, and somehow, just moments after it’d happened, he was acting like it’d healed already.

“Take him alive, we must,” Yoda said. “Reveal the truth of this matter, he will.” 

That got a nod from everyone else but Ahsoka, who—while freely admitting it was a fantastic idea—had to come to terms with the concept of leaving a Sith alive. This really was the past, huh.

“Take issue with that, you do, Master Tano,” Yoda said. 

Oh, for the love of—

“I’m used to shooting to kill, but I’ll defer! Can we talk about it later?” 

Yoda nodded. 

There was a moment of silence, all four Jedi looking to Yoda for assistance, and then the Force pulsed, and they closed the distance on Maul as one. 

He leapt at Obi-Wan, which was unfortunately the best opening move he could’ve picked, because for all the mastery of swordsmanship he’d have later in life, right now he was just a Padawan being hammered at by a Sith, and Maul was through his defenses, slamming an elbow into his face. The blow sent Obi-Wan staggering backwards, and Maul would’ve landed a killing blow if Plo hadn’t been there, blocking the downswing.

Maul disengaged and ran past a still-reeling Obi-Wan, headed for the other side of the hangar, forcing the others to follow. However, that also gave Ahsoka a clear path to the starfighters again, and this time she didn’t hesitate. 

It occurred to her as she clambered up the ship that this would probably look strange to the other Jedi, but oh well—

She had one leg in the cockpit when abruptly her entire world was yanked out from underneath her, some great force tossing her into the air. Immediately following this was the sound of an enormous crash, although she couldn’t tell where from because she was too busy lying on the ground and trying to remember which way was up.

When her head stopped spinning, the first thing she saw was the starfighter she’d just tried to board, in flames and leaking plasma on the other side of the hangar, resting where Maul had hurled it with the Force. With a twist of his hand, jagged spears of metal tore off the side of the ship and flew at the Jedi in waves, pushing them back. 

But all the Jedi were still standing, and that was all the confirmation Ahsoka needed to get to her feet and run for the next closest starfighter. 

Before she was even halfway there, it rose up in the air and then soared across the hangar, just barely missing Qui-Gon and Plo—both of whom had to dive to avoid it. It crashed in a shower of sparks next to the first wreck, landing upside down. 

And Maul was charging at her again, just barely leaping over a strike from Windu. He would’ve closed the distance with her if Yoda hadn’t landed in his path with an onslaught that stopped him in his tracks.  

“Face me, strange Jedi,” Maul snarled as his blade collided with Yoda’s and then Windu’s. “You will not escape this time.” 

His voice echoed in Ahsoka’s ears as dread began to well up in her stomach. There was only one starfighter left in the hangar.

It was in a bay much farther away, and she didn’t know how she could get to this one without Maul noticing. Even as Windu and Yoda advanced on him, she could feel his eyes on her. But if the two masters could keep Maul distracted for long enough—he’d already switched to Force-throwing dismembered droid parts at them to repel them—

The Force rumbled a warning. 

Ahsoka turned her head just in time to see the danger.

Both starfighters, in flames and leaking copious amounts of plasma, had landed very near to a full rack of fuel cells. So near that a single explosion would set everything off, and that would spread to the other fuel cells and artillery scattered around, and that would… 

She didn’t have the chance to finish her train of thought, because Maul had noticed the same thing—and the only reason why Ahsoka knew Maul had noticed was because he’d summoned a blaster to his hand. 

Ahsoka reached out, her first instinct to try to push the blaster away with the Force even just enough to throw off the shot, but there was no chance.

Maul squeezed the trigger, and a blaster bolt slammed into the underside of the nearest starfighter, directly into its fuel tank.

Ahsoka didn’t really see what happened next so much as she felt the aftermath of reflexes that could only belong to a Force user springing into action.

There was a blinding flash and an enormous clap of sound like all the thunder on the planet crashing down on them at once. The Force screamed above in Ahsoka’s head, and she threw her hands up, summoning everything in the Force, just as an immense weight crashed down on her—or, would’ve crashed down on her, if she wasn’t holding it back with the Force—and between secondary explosions, the entire palace seemed to reverberate with a deep, crackling roar which was… all too familiar to her.

It was the sound of a building collapsing. 

Ahsoka opened her eyes, only to be engulfed by a cloud of stinging dust, blinding her again. The floor abruptly tilted, throwing her sideways, and she had the abrupt sensation of however many tons of wreckage above her also being thrown sideways. With what remained of her strength, she shoved, and shifted the path of the rubble just enough that it avoided her. 

Amidst the deafening rumble, the Force shouted move, and she leapt upwards just as the floor gave way completely. She let the Force guide her landing, and she landed on ground that while, not quite stable, was at least solid. 

Then, everything was silent, both in the Force and around her. Ahsoka remained in a crouch, waiting for the dust to clear while she reached out with her montrals, trying to make sense of her surroundings. No one approached.

As the dust cleared and light began to filter through the air again, she became aware of something different about the light, something making it… deeper. It took her a moment to place it, and then she looked up. Blue sky. The hangar was gone.

Theed Palace had been built on a cliff, and the explosion had not only broken open the palace, but crumbled the lip of the cliff, sending half the hangar tumbling over the edge. What remained was an enormous smoking crater brimming with wreckage, twisted metal collapsing into exposed sub-floors.

Ahsoka was perched on the remains of the blast doors. There were no starfighters. No Maul. No Jedi. 

She fell to her knees. 

“No,” she whispered, staring at the rubble, feeling as if the bright sunshine was taunting her. “No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” 

And then, out of the corner of her eye, something burst out of the wreckage. 

Ahsoka whirled, her sabers immediately in hand, but then she realized it was a person—turned away from her—pushing a dented panel aside while pinned down across the waist by a beam. It took a moment to recognize the short-cropped hair.  

Obi-Wan!

She sprinted to his side and immediately realized the beam was too embedded in the wreckage for her to try moving it with the Force. 

“Hold still,” she said, igniting her shoto and putting the blade to durasteel.

Obi-Wan nodded silently, and Ahsoka had to hold back a sob of relief as she began to cut through. Perhaps more than anyone else, if she’d gotten Obi-Wan killed— Obi-Wan, her last friend standing—she wouldn’t have been able to forgive herself. And if he was alive, then there was still a chance that the others were. 

“Are you hurt?” she said as she finished the first cut. 

“Not really.” Obi-Wan shifted, wincing slightly. Then his eyes widened. “My Master.” 

He started to get up, but Ahsoka caught him by the shoulder and gently pushed him back down without looking up. “Nope. You’re not moving until I know you don’t have a neck injury. First rule of battlefield triage.”  

She wasn’t nearly the medic that Kix was, but… she knew the basics of triage, and people who got buried under wreckage tended to have pretty serious internal injuries even if they weren’t bleeding.

Ahsoka finished the second cut and shoved aside the ensnaring piece. Then, turning her full attention to Obi-Wan, she scanned him with the Force as best as she could, and thankfully, she got a clear answer: he was fine. 

She nodded, and Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet. “Thank you. We need to find my… Master. He’s around here somewhere. I can sense him.” 

“Thankfully, I don’t need to be found.” 

The new voice came from above, and Ahsoka whipped around to see Qui-Gon climbing gingerly down a mound of wreckage towards them, bruised and scraped but still in one piece. 

Once again, relief flooded Ahsoka. If Qui-Gon had survived, then the others… “Master Yoda? Master Windu? Master Koon?” 

Qui-Gon shook his head at each name, his face grim. “I was thrown clear of the wreckage. I didn’t see anyone else when I landed.” 

Ahsoka looked around once more and then looked skyward, her mind jumping to the other thing rapidly slipping out of her control. Did the Naboo Royal Navy stand a chance in the skies alone? 

She had no idea. All she could do was hope. 

“I sense them.” 

Qui-Gon’s voice again caught her attention, and she turned to see him focused on the crater, his eyes closed. “The others?”

“Yes. All three of them.” Qui-Gon’s voice was tight with concentration. “They’re… very far underneath the debris. It’s very faint. They may be using all of their strength in the Force to keep the wreckage from collapsing on them…” Qui-Gon wrinkled his brow, concentrating harder, and then sighed. “...Or they may be dying.”

Relief. Not a lot. But some. They could still save the day. “How fast can we get them out?”

“I don’t know. There’s no telling how far down they are. It could take hours to safely move all this.” 

“We don’t have that time. I can do it in minutes.”

Qui-Gon looked askance at Ahsoka. “You’re serious?”

It had been known for thousands of years that Jedi were excellent at search-and-rescue, but the Clone Wars had pushed those skills to new heights. Ahsoka had learned to pull apart wreckage dangerously fast when she was under a barrage of enemy fire and at constant risk of getting blown up. 

Before she could size up the wreckage, though, the Force screamed danger danger danger in her head, and on sheer instinct, she leapt forward and tackled Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. A nanosecond after all three of them had slammed into the ground, a glowing red light flashed through the space they’d just been occupying.  

When Ahsoka leapt back to her feet, Maul was standing not ten meters away from them, his hand outstretched as his double-bladed lightsaber flew back into his grasp, completing a path through the air that’d nearly taken off their heads. He lowered it, facing them in a guard pose, inviting them to attack.

Ahsoka bit back a curse, looking back and forth between the two Jedi and Maul. She was acutely aware that she was the only thing standing between the death of not just Qui-Gon, but Yoda, and Windu, and Plo, and… 

She forced the train of thought to stop there.

Qui-Gon looked askance at Obi-Wan as he ignited his saber. “Padawan,” he said after a moment. “Where is your lightsaber?” 

There was something in Qui-Gon’s words that apparently bristled Obi-Wan, because she saw that muscle in his neck twitch again. 

Before he had a chance to reply, Ahsoka deactivated her main saber. “Obi-Wan.” When he looked her way, she tossed it to him. “Catch.” 

Obi-Wan caught the lightsaber and stared at it like it was a primed thermal detonator. “Don’t you need this—?” 

“I’ve fought with one blade plenty of times.” Ahsoka flipped her shoto, opting for a two-handed grip. “Besides, would you rather fight a Sith Lord with no lightsaber?”

That quieted Obi-Wan.

“Are we still trying to take him alive?” Ahsoka said as they turned to face Maul.

“I have a pair of Force-dampening cuffs,” Qui-Gon said, but the absence of a clear yes was heavy in his words. And from the look in his eyes, Ahsoka knew it was intentional.

The Battle of Naboo had been on a rapidly ticking countdown since the first shot was fired, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d already run out of time. 

The three of them advanced. They drew close, Maul lunged, and Ahsoka’s world melted into a blur of spinning lights and clashing blades. 

She went in on Maul straightaway, and almost as quickly was rebuffed by a vicious slash, one that she could not effectively counter without her second saber. Instead, she had to settle for a retreat, and there laid the problem with this fight. She had no chance at a finishing blow—for that, she was relying on Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

But there was something off in their movements as they attacked Maul from the other side, and whether that was because Obi-Wan was fighting with an unfamiliar blade or because Qui-Gon seemed to be favoring his right leg or something else entirely, Ahsoka already saw they were not giving Maul the pressure needed to end this fight. 

Maul threw his hand back, and Ahsoka recognized the motion of someone about to hurl a half-ton of debris at them.

Nope, she thought, going in for a vicious slash at his neck. You’re not pulling that fucking trick again.  

The slash was a risky move with two sabers. With one saber it meant Maul nearly skewered her with the parry, only missing because Ahsoka had the foresight to spin at the last second, and she yelled silently into the Force for someone to get Maul at that second, she could feel all his attention on her—

And Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon did see the opening, and green and white swung towards Maul’s midsection, but they were too close together— it was as if they’d somehow failed to notice they were fighting together, and it gave Maul an opening to escape. Which, of course, he took.

He flipped backwards, slicing the ground and sending a shower of sparks their way as he retreated. 

Maul’s retreat was unhurried. She could see in the way he sauntered almost lazily backwards that he was drawing them in further towards whatever ground laid ahead. But at least he was giving ground, something which she knew he loathed. She could take a kernel of grim satisfaction in that. 

So they pursued, leaving behind the wreckage of the hangar, rubble giving way to still-standing walls and then intact hallways. And then they were chasing Maul into an enormous room somehow bigger than the hangar, with glowing columns of plasma and narrow pathways bridging a yawning pit.

As Ahsoka lunged at Maul once more, she realized she had been here before. During one of her previous ill-fated visits to Naboo, Padmé had given her a tour of the palace, and Ahsoka dimly remembered this cavernous room, the generator complex, Padmé had called it. Somewhere in the stories reluctantly shared by Anakin and Obi-Wan, she’d learned this was where Qui-Gon died.

She didn’t know where, she didn’t know how, she didn’t know when. All she knew was this was where it had to be stopped. 

And so the fight went. Amidst the reactors, white and green collided with red again and again, no one able to land a killing blow. 

Was the droid control ship down? Were the Gungans still fighting? Had Padmé found Gunray yet? Was anything going to plan?

The skinny platforms they were fighting on now meant the three Jedi had to navigate around one another as much as they navigated around Maul. Qui-Gon, his blade colliding with Maul’s, bumped shoulders with Obi-Wan, interrupting a swing that might’ve taken off Maul’s shoulder, and Obi-Wan actually hesitated in the middle of the fight to stare at Qui-Gon, and Ahsoka nearly screamed at Obi-Wan to get his head screwed on right because that would’ve gotten him killed if Maul had been looking in his direction at that moment, and what was he thinking— 

And of course, that was a distraction of its own for Ahsoka, and her reward for losing focus was a slash from Maul that came so close to connecting that it left a thin line of singed fabric on her vest.

She swung at Maul’s throat more out of sheer frustration than anything else, and that frustration must’ve leaked through in the Force because Maul just batted it out of the way, throwing her so off-balance she would’ve been a sitting duck for his next move if not for Qui-Gon leaping over her and locking sabers with Maul. They held that position for one, two seconds and then Maul pushed Qui-Gon back before Ahsoka could flank him.

Maul didn’t engage immediately, instead, stalking backwards deeper into the generator complex, where there were more hallways, glowing gateways of plasma, more chances for Maul to use the environment to his advantage. 

The three of them advanced on Maul slowly, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan on either side of Ahsoka.  Ahsoka glanced back and forth between her fighting partners, sensing fatigue in both of them. Sweat beaded on Qui-Gon’s forehead. How long could they keep this up?

Suddenly, the Force tightened, like an elastic band being pulled taut, and for one moment Ahsoka felt the atmosphere grow colder, and then the ground rocked under her feet, a deep, muted boom echoing through the air.

Before anyone had a chance to react or even steady themselves, the Force snapped, and a blast of pain pain pain tore through Ahsoka’s mind.

She stumbled, all the air rushing out of her lungs, tried to make sense of what was happening, failed—a twinge at her montrals warned her just in time to throw her shoto up and block Maul before he brought his saber down on her head. 

As their sabers locked, there was another boom, and the Force itself was screaming. Ahsoka gasped for breath, a horrible realization occurring to her, and when the third distant explosion sounded, she knew what was happening. 

How dare they. How dare they. 

Refocusing, finding new strength coursing through her limbs, she drew on the Force and shoved at Maul, throwing him far backwards into the opening of a small hallway. Immediately she chased him, and he backed up, baring his teeth. She had almost closed the distance between them when a plasma gate activated out of nowhere. Ahsoka skidded to a halt, breathing hard and staring at the glowing barrier just inches from her face, thankful that she’d noticed the flaring of the emitters just in time.

Another explosion shook the palace, but by now Ahsoka had deadened herself to how the Force cried out around her. Because she’d lived through this nightmare before. 

She didn’t realize Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan weren’t with her until they staggered up to her side, both deathly pale.  

“What is going on?” Obi-Wan gasped out, wobbling slightly. 

Ahsoka didn’t take her eyes off Maul as she spat out her reply. “Orbital bombardment.” 

As if for emphasis, another explosion sounded—more distant, but still unmistakably violent. And there was no mistaking the new suffering and death that erupted in through the Force. 

“They’re bombarding the city,” Qui-Gon said in disbelief. 

If the Federation was bombing the city, that didn’t just mean the Naboo Royal Navy was losing the battle. It also meant Gunray hadn’t been captured yet. Worse still, Ahsoka had a suspicion why this bombardment was happening. It would be a despicably effective way to extract compliance from a recaptured queen.

Obi-Wan looked genuinely lost. “But then why are they getting further away and not closer? We’re right in the center…” When the next explosion only sent minor vibrations up their legs, he trailed off in thought and then choked. “The prison camps.” 

The vanishing lives in the Force practically flooded them now. It was far too similar to the Empire. She’d barely escaped one orbital bombardment and walked through the scorched aftermath of two others.

Ahsoka’s heart began to race. She hadn’t stopped Maul. She hadn’t stopped the droids. And now she might not even save a single fucking person on this planet.  

No. There was still a chance. There had to still be a chance somewhere. But—

She looked at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, still reeling from the horrors of an atrocity they’d never experienced before, looked at Maul prowling back and forth on the other side of the plasma gate seconds from opening, and came to a brutally calculated decision.

A desperate plan coalesced. She raised both arms and called on the Force for two opposite actions. With one hand, she summoned her other lightsaber from Obi-Wan’s grasp and the Force-binding cuffs from Qui-Gon’s belt. With the other hand, she unleashed a powerful wave of Force energy, sending them both flying off the platform. 

Knowing they’d land on their feet, she turned to Maul just as the gate opened, ignited her lightsabers in her familiar, ferocious double grip, and leapt. 

This time, she attacked with authority, her second blade giving her the advantage she’d sorely missed this entire time. And she made no attempt to hide her knowledge of his bladework. So she blocked with precision that shouldn’t have been possible, stabbed at blind spots that should’ve been well-hidden, and slowly the snarling arrogance on Maul’s face turned to a frustrated concentration and then finally a disbelieving rage as Ahsoka forced him backwards at blinding speed, finding holes in his defense again and again that he couldn’t cover for. 

When he tried to jab at her, she sidestepped and went for a low sweep at his legs that his natural backswing left exposed, forcing him to jump back yet again. Now they were in some tiny chamber around a giant pit, but neither of them took much notice of it. 

More impacts, more rending pain—how many times had the bombardment hit now? She’d lost count. She slashed at him and caught a parry with her shoto without looking, trapped his blade with her other saber, stepped in close as if going for a protracted saberlock, and then rolled sideways, tossing him off-balance just as he’d thrown all his weight toward her. 

She came up again immediately, pressing her advantage with everything she had. The Force roiled around Maul, unreadable, but her montrals told her much more in that moment. Her montrals told her that both his hearts were racing, that he had a slight strain in one knee where he’d twisted unnaturally to block a leaping blow, that his foot with the blaster wound had a tremor, that he was afraid. 

On her next attack, she shifted right when Maul lunged left, her senses sharpened and registered an opening, and she twisted her shoto straight down and cut off both of Maul’s hands. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi stared through the shimmering plasma gates as a lightsaber duel raged in plain sight, unable to intervene. 

Even if he could intervene, he had no lightsaber. Even if he could intervene, debilitating nausea rolled through him every time he touched the Force. Even if he could intervene, did Ahsoka Tano need the help?

She danced around the Sith like she could predict every move he’d make. Obi-Wan watched Tano’s strikes, far more fluid and confident with her second saber, and silently reconsidered his ire at her for tossing him over a ledge. Qui-Gon stood stiffly next to him. His angry mutterings had long since trailed off into complete silence. 

The duel moved to some corner out of their view, and for now all they could hear was the sound of lightsabers clashing. And the explosions. Force, the explosions. They hurt. The Force hurt. How many people were dying every time another turbolaser battery hit? Obi-Wan could sense a a sea of bright candles going out in the Force all at once, and it was all he could do not to cry out. 

Qui-Gon, tight-lipped and resolute, seemed to be handling it better, but Obi-Wan could see how his master—if he could call him that anymore—had a white-knuckled grip on his saber.

Suddenly, a much louder sound assaulted Obi-Wan’s eardrums, and it took him a moment to realize it was a guttural roar of pain. And then, as abruptly as it’d started, it broke off. Leaving a pronounced stillness.

Ahsoka Tano stepped into the doorframe, a gash on her right cheek, three lightsabers clipped to her belt, and dragging the body of the Sith behind her. 

Obi-Wan stared. 

Tano bent down and heaved the body over her shoulders. When the plasma gates cycled open, she broke into a run, and cleared the last gate just before it closed again. She shrugged off the body, dumping it at Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s feet. Only then did Obi-Wan realize the Sith was alive. He was motionless and his hands were gone, but his chest rose and fell faintly. Qui-Gon’s Force-binders were clamped around his ankles. 

“Don’t let him get away,” Tano said. There was something thunderous in her expression. “He’s dangerous even when he’s dismembered.”

Neither of them had time to think on the strangeness of those words, because Tano immediately turned as if to leave.

“Where are you going?” Qui-Gon said, halfway crouched to inspect the Sith. 

“To save this planet,” was all Tano said before breaking into a sprint, leaving them behind without so much as a backwards glance. 

Obi-Wan looked down at the Sith, looked at Tano’s disappearing form, and then looked at Qui-Gon, who looked as stunned as he felt. 

This was the most powerless Mace Windu had ever felt. 

Every few moments, the ground—just overturned dirt and dust—shook underneath him, and with the shaking came fresh waves of horror in the Force, so sharp that he could hear the individual screams. They were like needles through his brain.

Theed was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it because he was trapped. 

The explosion had brought the entire hangar down on him, Yoda, and Plo, and it was only thanks to Yoda’s reflexes that they’d survived. 

In fact, Yoda was still keeping them alive—he was crouched on the ground, his eyes closed in fierce concentration and his hands thrown skyward, keeping hundreds of tons of rubble at bay just inches from their heads. Mace could hear the groans of metal as it shifted above them, desperate to fall the last few feet to the floor. Plo was kneeling next to Yoda, giving him all the strength and stability he had. 

That left it to Mace to find an escape. And so far, he had found nothing. In the first place, he had to be excruciatingly careful—their small dome of relative safety was so unstable that if he moved the wrong thing, he could set off a deadly avalanche. 

This was his specialty. Debris piles like this were filled with shatterpoints—places where just the right movement in the Force, or the right nudge of a hand, would open up a passageway for escape. But so far, hunting over every inch of this chamber and relying on the glow of their lightsabers and the Force to guide him, he’d failed to find a single shatterpoint. That was abnormal. He tugged experimentally on a beam at chest-height, which only succeeded in bringing down a cascade of dust on his head. 

“Damn it all,” he muttered, wiping plaster out of his eyes.

Another enormous blast from outside shook the floor, and for a moment he hoped that this would be the one that shifted the wreckage just enough for him to be able to find something.

Nothing. Nothing except more monstrosities bleeding through the Force. 

“Orbital bombardment,” he said, still not quite able to believe what was happening. “What is the Federation thinking? Even for them, this is beyond the pale.”

“Something greater is at play here,” Plo said, his voice strained with the effort of assisting Yoda. “The Federation would only take a step this drastic if something exceptionally vital hung in the balance.” 

Mace nodded. Occupying Naboo, as horrific as it was, wouldn’t stir the Senate to great action. But orbital bombardment would incite a genuine galactic fury towards the Trade Federation. The Republic, even in the strange, listless form it’d taken as of late, would not look kindly upon a ruthless wartime tactic the galaxy had not witnessed since the New Sith Wars. 

The New Sith Wars. What a coincidence that was. Now Mace was thinking of the Zabrak, and the cold feeling that’d crept over him when they met. 

“Either this is far more important than we realize… or the Federation fears something else more than the full wrath of the Jedi and the Republic,” he said. 

He and Plo considered that in sober silence for a few moments, until something tickled at his senses. 

“Hang on. I’ve got something.” He leaned forward, searching, and finally saw it. A ghostly web of cracks floating in the air just ahead of him. A shatterpoint with no physical anchor, but rather located entirely in the Force. All he needed to do was reach out and touch it.

He brushed against it with the Force, and a jolt of energy flowed through him, making him straighten almost reflexively. Sensations flowed into him as he realized he’d found another Jedi. Jinn? Kenobi? Tano?

“Somebody’s looking for us,” he said. “Actually, scratch that. Someone’s digging for us.” 

The other presence in the Force, drawing near, was begging for assistance, and Mace, somewhat hesitantly, provided it. He only hoped this person knew what they were doing with an unstable debris structure. 

The walls around them rocked, and he winced, but the presence kept pushing decisively, urgently, and then the sound of shifting metal reached his ears. 

Mace was taken aback. How could anyone get to them that quickly? It was either an act of astonishing precision or extreme recklessness. He channeled the Force again, focusing it into wherever that shatterpoint originated from, and pressure seemed to build and build around him until there was an immense crunch. 

At the sound, Mace threw his arms up, expecting the entire planet to come crashing down on him, but all he felt was a rush of air buffeting his face. 

He lowered his arms. Sunlight flooded in from a steep, narrow tunnel that had opened up before him. When he peered into it, blinking at the sudden brightness, at the other end he saw nothing but the silhouette of a Togruta.

“Tano?” he said, at a loss for words. 

“Are you hurt?” Tano called down, her voice strangely hard. 

Windu was about to reply when he noticed a tickle in the Force like the first one he’d felt, pressing enough that he looked again for shatterpoints. Up until now, he hadn’t been able to get a good read on Tano in the Force—she wore her shielding around her like a tightly drawn cloak, and he may as well have tried to read a brick wall. Now though, she had a wild look in her eyes and the Force teemed around her. He knew he’d see something. 

When he opened up his senses, it took an immense effort not to show an outward reaction. 

More shatterpoints surrounded Ahsoka Tano than he’d ever seen in one location in his life. So many she seemed to be drowning in them. So many that they continuously faded in and out of existence around her. So many, it occurred to him that just standing near her could trigger at least several. 

Another explosion, this one closer than anything else, sent a shower of dust down on Mace, and he pushed aside his amazement.

“We’re fine,” he said crisply. “What’s going on? Is the Sith—”

By the time he’d finished his sentence, he was talking to empty air. 

Padmé Amidala felt as if she was dying.

And with every impact that rattled her planet and snuffed out countless numbers of her people while she stood cuffed and surrounded by droids, perhaps she really was dying. 

The holoscreens and windows of the throne room gave her an unflinching view of the destruction being wrought around her, and there was nowhere for her to turn away.

“Perhaps now you might feel more partial to signing the treaty, your highness?” Gunray said, his voice oily with smug delight as he paced slowly in front of her.

Padmé kept her expression stock-still as she replied, refusing to meet his eyes. “The galaxy will have your head for this atrocity, Viceroy.”

Gunray shook his head. “No, no, my queen, because when our occupation is legalized, this will be written off as an unfortunate accident.” His eyes flicked skyward. “A malfunction in our starship’s firing systems, caused by…  bombardment from dissident elements in the population mounting a suicidal attack.” 

A fresh burst of explosions, nearer than anything else yet, punctuated his final words. Padmé saw a fresh plume of smoke rise several streets over, and resisted the urge to suck in a panicked breath. That was the Royal Archives. The entire sweep of Naboo’s history was preserved in that building, and where there had been proud steeples, there was nothing.

“No one would believe such a barefaced lie,” she finally managed, her words unwavering. 

Gunray glanced over the holoscreen, watching the explosions with a detached interest that made Padmé grit her teeth, and then turned back to her. “I have allies who can make even the most unfortunate of things disappear.”

I wish you would disappear, Padmé thought. Aloud, she said, “I will not hand over my people to you. It would go against everything I stand for.” 

Gunray stared at her. “You would let millions die to satisfy your own pride! You can end all this suffering with a single word!” 

The words cut deeply, and for a moment, a horrible moment, Padmé found herself wondering, was she doing the right thing? Was it foolish to let principle take precedence when millions of lives were at stake? She knew that no one would fault her for doing anything to stop this horror, and with no other end in sight… 

But her decision was about so much more than just principle. It was about the future of Naboo. 

On the holoscreen feed, she saw a fresh crater, and a mass of twisted bodies thrown about within, the transmitting camera just close enough that she could make out individual—

It would be so easy to give up. Despicably easy. She tore her gaze away, feeling more lost than ever before. She had to look at something else. Anything else. 

She looked at her handmaidens. Sabé, Eirtaé, Rabé—all of them—watching her and Gunray, and after a moment Padmé noticed that each time their eyes flicked from her to Gunray, their facades broke just a little bit—unable to disguise the hateful glares that flickered over their faces when they looked at the Viceroy.

Just like her, her companions were breaking. And Padmé knew which choice would break not just herself, but would also break her companions, and all of Naboo.

“No,” she said quietly, but firmly. “You are murderers. You alone bear responsibility for this. I will die before I let Naboo become subservient to a rapacious corporate interest who only values our natural resources.” She paused, thinking, and then stepped closer to Gunray, ignoring how the battle droids raised their guns warningly. “In fact, that is exactly what I want. Find some other figurehead to follow your orders. It will not be me. Kill me.”

She did not fail to notice how every member of her strike force stiffened at her words, but she also noticed how Gunray seemed to suddenly falter.

And then he spoke rapidly. “Surely you must see the madness in holding out!”

Padmé tried not to think about the routed Gungans being rounded up in the fields, the charred civilian bodies lying in the prison camps, the wrecked starfighters drifting in the vacuum of space, the gaping craters in every street, and instead focused on something curious. Gunray’s voice had taken on a slight edge. She would almost call it worry. 

What could he be worried about, when he held all the cards?

“I will not yield,” she said, her voice rising. “Let history judge me. Let history judge us.”  

“You will be known as a fool—”

“Uh, sir?” Gunray was interrupted by the nasal voice of one of the battle droids, raising a hand in alert. “There’s a situation in the plaza.”

“What?” Gunray said, rounding on the droid.

“It’s a Jedi, sir.” 

Gunray went stock-still. Rune Haako, his right-hand man who’d been standing silently to the side, spoke for the first time. “I thought the Sith was supposed to deal with them! We should’ve had the other one come here and deal with this himself!” he said, wringing his hands. 

The other one? Padmé blinked in thought and filed that away for later. 

Now visibly agitated, Gunray hurried over to the nearest holoscreen and fiddled with its adjuster, bringing up a feed of the palace plaza.

Initially, there was nothing to see except wreckage and patrolling battle droids, but within moments they were raising their blasters and firing them at something offscreen. Then there was a blaze of bright light, a streak of white across the screen, and then the feed glitched. 

The screen resolved in seconds, but by then there was nothing to see in the plaza except dismembered, sparking droids in a place where there should have been an entire squadron. 

Padmé’s heart rose.

“I want every droideka in this building to converge on my location,” Gunray said, a tremor creeping into his voice. “And track that Jedi!”

“Squadron Nine just sighted her on Level One, sir,” the commander droid said. It tapped the side of its head, apparently listening to some invisible transmission, and then tapped harder. “Squadron Nine? Squadron Nine, come in—Squadron Eleven just sighted her on Level Two, sir. Squadron Eleven? Squadron Eleven, come in—Squadron Thirteen just sighted her on Level Three, sir. Squadron Thirteen? Squadron Thirteen, come in—”

“Shut up!” Gunray hissed. “What level are we on?”

“Level Eight, sir.” 

“Where are those droidekas?”

The holoscreen switched to an internal feed, this time showing a camera in a darkened room at eye level with a Neimoidian officer bending over it.

“Viceroy, there’s a Jedi coming this way!” he said, glancing furtively at something out of view of the camera. “She’s cutting through our forces like nothing!”

“We know!” Gunray snapped, beginning to pace rapidly. “Hold her off. How much can she do?! She’s just one person!”

The Neimoidian officer didn’t reply, because at the moment Gunray finished speaking, there was a shout offscreen and the officer unholstered his blaster, aiming at something behind the camera. He began firing rapidly—apparently without success, because he backed up, nearly tripping over himself, and plastered himself against the far wall. He was still shooting when a brilliant white blade flashed across the screen, followed by a leaping figure, and then the camera went dark. 

“Status report!” Gunray practically screamed at the nearest droid.

“Last spotted on Level Four, sir—” The droid paused, tilting its head again. “The Jedi is not on any level now, sir.”

“She’s disappeared?”

“No. She seems to have found one of the turbolift shafts. And she didn’t wait for a turbolift.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Padmé allowed herself a small flame of hope. A hope that could not be extinguished even when a ceaseless clacking sound echoed through the hallways as a full squadron of droidekas rolled around the corner. She saw that there was no relief in Gunray’s face as he watched them take up positions and raise their shields.

“Close the blast doors,” Gunray said in a quavering voice as he toggled the holoscreen’s feed once again, bringing up the hallway crowded with droidekas. 

“This will stop your foolish Jedi,” he said as the gray doors slammed shut, his voice devoid of any confidence. “I saw two droidekas drive off two Jedi! What will one do against an entire hallway?” 

Padmé didn’t dignify him with a reply, instead fixing her eyes on the feed. 

Hurry, please, she thought. Every second, another hundred citizens die.

She didn’t have to wait long. An orange blur came flying around the end of the hallway, and immediately the droidekas opened fire, the feed erupting into chaos. 

It was the Togruta Jedi. She advanced slowly, inexorably down the hall, her two lightsabers a ceaseless blur that deflected the hail of blasterfire concentrated solely on her. She never once backed up, her deflections appearing effortless.

In moments, she was so close to the first droideka that she could reach out and touch it—which she did, skewering it with her lightsaber. Then she turned to the other one and, with a flick of her hand, it was yanked between her and the other droidekas—shielding herself from her blasterfire. She advanced and then threw the droideka under her control at the two nearest to her, crumpling all three of them in a shower of sparks. 

The remaining droids ramped up their barrage, the shots so numerous that the hallway began to look as if it was on fire. But Ahsoka Tano remained unbowed amidst it all, and then with a wave of her arm two more droidekas were thrown out a window, the hallway suddenly looking much emptier than just a minute ago. 

Then, a stray blaster bolt slammed into the camera. The holoscreen buzzed and went dark. Gunray tapped frantically at the screen for a few moments before he threw his hands up in despair and retreated behind one of the few battle droids still in the room. 

Padmé tried to puzzle out the course of the battle by the muted sounds that filtered through the blast doors. Even with a thick slab of durasteel sealing them off, the blasterfire was growing more intense, interspersed now with small explosions and breaking glass. And then, abruptly, it stopped. 

In between the distant explosions of the continuing bombardment, dead silence reigned in the throne room. Everyone stared at the door, waiting for something. 

A hissing sound crept into the air, slowly at first and then more insistently, until the center of the blast door began to glow. Padmé furrowed her brow—what that was, she had no idea—but Gunray seemed to recognize it, because he exploded into a panic. 

“No!” he cried. “No! Impossible! This cannot be happening! Haako, recall our forces from outside the city! Get the control ship on the line—”

The glowing tip of a lightsaber burst through the door, and then with purpose it began to move to the right, cutting a deliberate arc. 

“I will not—” Gunray gasped, before jerking sideways, grappling briefly with one of the battle droids, and yanking the blaster out of its hands. He scrambled over to Padmé, fumbling with the rifle, and stood directly behind her, pointing it at her head. “If she steps in here, you die!” 

By now, Padmé felt a dark sense of amusement. “Viceroy,” she said, watching the lightsaber complete half a circle, “You aren’t the first person to try and hold me hostage today, and you are by far the worst at it.” 

With that, she ducked and drove the point of her elbow backwards with as much force as she could muster. It was with immense satisfaction that she made hard contact with something soft and spongy. 

Gunray staggered back with a cry of pain, and then Sabé was springing forwards, snatching the blaster out of his hands before anyone else had a chance to react. With three pinpoint shots, she downed the last battle droids, and now they had the upper hand again. 

But this felt nothing like a victory for Padmé, because the orbital bombardment was still going—

The Jedi had finished cutting her way in. Padmé knew this because a chunk of metal flew past her at astonishing speed, embedding itself in the opposite wall. 

Ahsoka Tano stalked into the room, lightsabers held behind her and grim determination radiating off her. Looking at the blood smeared across her face and the dust that coated most of her body, for one moment Padmé felt as if she was face-to-face with one of the specters from her sister’s childhood ghost stories. 

Lieutenant Haako made a halting move to step in Tano’s way, but she pushed him aside without so much as a glance. She marched straight up to Gunray—still doubled over in pain—and kicked him backwards into the throne.

Before Padmé could say anything, Tano was leaning in close, growling into Gunray’s face. “Call off the bombardment and lower the shields on your control ship.”

“What?” Gunray gasped out, trying to back away from her even as there was nowhere left to go. “They’re still under fire from your starfighters! The ship would be destroyed in moments!” 

Tano twirled her sabers around with a deadly casualness. “Do you think you have room to bargain here?” 

“No—no! I only mean to say that they would never voluntarily lower their shields! Even if I ordered them to!”

“Figure out a way,” Tano said.

Gunray visibly swallowed, and then tapped his comlink, waiting. A voice crackled. 

“Captain,” he said after a moment. “Cease bombardment and lower your shields.” 

The crackling, amazed reply was instant. “You cannot be serious! We’ve almost dealt with the fighters, but we’re still under heavy fire! It’d be suicide.”

“That is an order!” 

“Why?”

Gunray looked desperately to Tano. “You see? I cannot—”

In a lightning-fast motion, Tano snapped both of her lightsabers to Gunray’s neck, trapping him just millimeters away from the deadly blades. “You better think of something, fast.”

“Please, Master Jedi, have mercy,” Gunray whimpered. 

Tano bared her teeth, her fangs glinting in the light of her sabers. “I will show you exactly as much mercy as you showed the people of this planet.” 

Gunray made a panicked noise, looked around wildly, and then shouted into the comlink—

“Lord Sidious! He ordered us to!”

There was a silence from the other end of the line, in which Padmé tried to puzzle through the meaning of those words, and then she could not believe the reply.

“Lowering shields,” the captain said, his voice suddenly listless, his previous disbelief completely absent. There was a pause, and then— “They are firing on us! We're taking heavy damage! I don’t know how long—”

The transmission broke off into static. Padmé ran to the nearest window and looked out, seeing a bloom of fire far above in the sky. It took her several seconds to process what that meant. 

It was over. 

For the first time in a virtual eternity, there were no explosions. She staggered back towards the center of the room and fell to her knees next to Sabé, suddenly unable to keep herself upright. They had won. Somehow. All she could think about was how many must be dead, how many homes were lying in ruins, how her city and her planet would never be the same again.

She looked up, trying to make some sense of any of this, and her attention fixated on something relatively unimportant: Even as Captain Panaka and the rest of the Royal Guard scrambled to secure the area, Ahsoka Tano had also fallen to her knees.

Chapter Text

“Clear!”

Ahsoka stumbled back from the stretcher, her heart pounding as she pulled herself out of the healing trance, feeling as if she’d just yanked her head out of a bucket of water. She placed a hand on the human lying in front of her, and let out a small sigh of relief as she felt the pulse, thready just a minute ago, now strong and steady.

“She’s stable,” she said to the medic standing by. “I’ve stopped her internal bleeding, but she needs to get to a medcenter soon.”

The medic nodded and wheeled the stretcher away. Ahsoka took a deep breath, turning to survey the area. The hastily assembled field hospitals were doing everything they could to tend to the wounded, but with shortages of everything, they could only help so much. 

She wished she could be talking to Maul right now. But that wasn’t an option because, quite understandably, the other Jedi didn’t want a mostly-unknown figure in the room during the interrogation of the first confirmed Sith in a millennium. Besides, her Force-healing skills were possibly the most valuable thing on the planet right now. As it stood, only Qui-Gon had been left to guard and interrogate Maul—Yoda and Mace Windu were in field hospitals closer to the decimated civilian camps, Obi-Wan was at a medcenter in the city, and Plo was right here with her. The five of them were a big reason the death toll wasn’t much higher. 

She was glad for that. She couldn’t take any more death today.

Ahsoka took another deep breath. And then another. She could barely catch her breath. She stumbled sideways and then slumped against one of the tent poles, then let herself slide slowly down to the ground. Whether she could afford a break or not, her body was forcing her to take one.  

There were still people dying every minute. Sidious was going to show up at some point. And she had no idea where Anakin and Shmi were. 

This was her fault. This was all her fault. 

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” she muttered, balling her hands into fists and pressing them into her forehead. She couldn’t have messed this up anymore than she did. Maybe she should’ve gone all-out on Maul sooner. Maybe she should’ve stayed by Padmé’s side. Maybe she should’ve let a nine-year-old fly a starfighter into a ferocious space battle. There were a million places where she could’ve gone wrong. Maybe she’d gone wrong in all of them. Reality was staring her in the face: She really was powerless to stop everything bad from happening again. 

“Are you all right?” 

She barely had the strength to lift her head when she heard Plo’s voice above her. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she said. A lie. “Healing’s just taking a lot out of me.” It was very much not her strong suit.

“Are you sure?” 

“Look, even if I wasn’t, I can take care of myself,” she said. She fixated on a bloodstain on her sleeve. “There’s way more important things to worry about right now than me.” 

“There are. However, I need a moment as well,” Plo said. “It wasn’t until I saw you collapse that I realized I was overtaxing myself, too.” 

Ahsoka let out a weak laugh. “We don’t really have a choice. When are the aid ships supposed to get here?” 

“It’s anyone’s guess.” Plo was silent for a moment, and then he sat down next to her. “Did this… happen in your time?” 

It took Ahsoka a moment to realize what he was asking. She looked out at the immense tent, filled with groaning patients and shouting medics, and shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice choked. “No, it didn’t.” 

“Ah.” 

“It was… It wasn’t perfect. People died. But nothing like this.”

Plo laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. The touch, which would’ve been appreciated by Ahsoka any other day, did nothing to improve her mood.

“Somebody… Somebody important died. I thought if I interfered, I could save them.” 

Plo didn’t reply, tilting his head in thought.

“And you know what? I did save that person! At the cost of Force knows how many other people!”

“If I hadn’t known you were from the future…” Plo began slowly. “I would not have convinced the Council that more strength was needed on Naboo. Which means it would’ve been Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi alone against the Sith. Is that correct?”

“Yep.”

“How did they do it?”

You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. “Luck,” she said helplessly. 

“Luck?”

“I’m serious. If their mission had actually gone according to plan, it wouldn’t have succeeded.”

“I cannot say I believe in luck,” Plo murmured. 

Yeah, that was something a lot of Jedi liked to say. But for Ahsoka, luck was something she was positive existed, because… what other explanation was there for why she’d survived when so many more capable Jedi died? It sure couldn’t be the will of the Force to make her suffer the agony of being the last of her kind. “Yeah, well… I’m pretty sure it was luck because I’d have to be insane to try and recreate the circumstances that led to the victory the first time around,” she said, trying and failing to prevent bitterness seeping into her tone. “So of course I tried to do it all better, and I failed miserably. This is all my fault.”

“That could not be farther from the truth.”

The forceful note in Plo’s voice made her freeze. 

“You assume that without your presence, the battle would have unfolded as it did before, whether it be luck or the will of the Force.” 

Ahsoka nodded slowly.

“I do not agree. The Force works in mysterious ways, but it is unwise to simply sit back and expect it to do all the work for you. The way of a Jedi is to create opportunities with the help of the Force and then act on them. Today you had the opportunity to help thanks to the Force throwing you back in time, and you cannot blame yourself for acting on it. If you had done nothing at all for fear of making things worse, then I am quite confident that Naboo would not be liberated right now.”

Ahsoka tried to think of a response, but suddenly she found it hard to form words. Tears welled up in her eyes. 

“And if you still believe in luck, then you could think of this as making your own luck.” 

Make your own luck. The words resonated in Ahsoka’s head. 

Plo must’ve noticed the tears in her eyes, because he spoke again. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing,” Ahsoka said, with much more honesty. “It’s just… that’s exactly what you would’ve said to me back in… When you were my friend.” 

“Ah. I would like to think I can be friends with you again,” Plo said. 

She gave him a weak but genuine smile. “That’d be nice.” 

The Plo she’d known was dead. This Plo was also that Plo and also a different Plo. She still had to mourn someone, but she had a friend again. A different friend, but still a friend.

Ahsoka took a steadying breath and had just risen to her feet when she noticed someone ducking into the tent: Captain Panaka. He looked around hurriedly, and then made eye contact with her.

Qui-Gon had a fresh bruise on his cheek. It hadn’t been there before the fight with Maul, and it occurred to Ahsoka that he’d probably received it when she’d tossed him off the balcony.

She was going to apologize to him for that. Really. It wasn’t his fault he’d only been getting in the way of defeating Maul. But at this moment, an apology was very much not in her thoughts because Qui-Gon was making her night far, far harder than it needed to be. 

She stared at him. He stared back. 

“When are you going to let me talk to him?” she said once again, inclining her head at the blast doors behind Qui-Gon. Although she couldn’t see or sense anything behind them, she knew Maul was imprisoned behind those doors. Qui-Gon had told her this bunker deep underneath the palace, an operations base for Naboo intelligence services lucky enough to have functioning backup generators, had the only secure prison cells in a sixty-kilometer radius. 

Qui-Gon looked askance at her. “Once you answer my questions.”

“Whose interrogation is this again?”

He didn’t reply. Ahsoka wished Yoda was here—he would’ve let her talk to Maul just for the entertainment potential alone—but no, it had to be Qui-Gon.

She leaned back against a computer console, trying to give off an air of casual disinterest which she absolutely did not feel right now. “Generally, when a Sith Lord who’s refusing to say a word asks to speak to someone, it’s a good idea to, you know, see what the hell he wants.” 

When Captain Panaka had informed her Qui-Gon needed her presence because Darth Maul had specifically requested to talk to her, she thought this was their big break. Except, Qui-Gon was being…

“Do you have any idea why he wants to talk to you?” he asked.

Ahsoka knew exactly why, after how Maul had fixated on Obi-Wan the first time around. Of course, she couldn’t answer him with that.

 “I humiliated him. He probably has to swear vengeance on me now. The Sith like to do that.”

“Fair enough.” 

 “Or maybe he wants to spill his secrets, but only to the Jedi who defeated him.” Knowing Maul, she highly doubted that, but it was always worth a try. “In which case, can we hurry up before he changes his mind?” 

Qui-Gon rubbed his beard, and then looked up as if something had just occurred to him. “If you’ll answer that, perhaps you’ll respond to my other questions.” 

Ahsoka gritted her teeth and took a step towards Qui-Gon. “I already did. But I can go over it again in case you missed something.” She began to tick things off on her fingers. “I knew Maul’s name before he ever said a word to me because I saw him in my visions, almost as much as I saw Anakin. I beat him so easily because I foresaw the fight, too right down to the rooms we fought in. I saw every move in my sleep for the last ten years.” 

“Yes. And I do believe you,” Qui-Gon said slowly. “But I sense you are holding something back. Something… important.” He gave her a critical look. “Important enough that I won’t let you talk to Maul until you tell me what you’re not saying.” 

Oh, she didn’t have time for this.

The conviction in Qui-Gon’s words told Ahsoka she couldn’t simply deny everything. There was perhaps one thing she could tell him that’d satisfy him, but… She glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at Qui-Gon, trying to formulate a reply as she fought off the thought of him dying at Maul’s hand. Finally, she looked him in the eye. In the red emergency lighting of their surroundings, Qui-Gon looked pale and tired, and he probably was exhausted. No one had gotten any sleep in a day. 

She couldn’t tell him he’d died. It was her responsibility to protect him and everyone else from her future, and that included the knowledge of the future. If she saved the Republic, no one else would ever have to know how horrifically things went. 

What could possibly happen? Plo had asked. She would do anything to make sure that question stayed unanswered. 

“Fine,” she said, deflating. She had people to heal, friends to look for, Sidious to watch out for. There were better things she could do with her time. “I won’t talk to him. Good luck getting something out of him.” 

“You’re…” Qui-Gon blinked, took a step back, and nodded slowly. “I hope you will find the confidence to tell us what you’re hiding.” 

If only he knew. Ahsoka rose to her feet, wondering if the Royal Guard might be able to help her find Shmi and Anakin—

And then another set of blast doors on the far side of the room opened, and Padmé walked out with her handmaidens.

Ahsoka stared. What was she doing here? 

“Master Tano,” Padmé said, her tone displaying equal surprise and then satisfaction. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

She peered into the hallway Padmé had exited. Then she realized it was actually another cell. Inside the cell, behind a ray shield, was Gunray, curled up in a corner and shaking. She saw no signs of physical harm, but he looked haunted. 

“How is your interrogation going, Master Jinn?” Padmé said, turning to Qui-Gon. 

Qui-Gon, looking thoroughly unsurprised by Padmé’s presence, shrugged. “He has a strong will. But he’ll crack eventually.” 

Padmé nodded. “Good.” On the far wall, a blank rectangle slid away, revealing a waiting turbolift. “Master Tano, will you accompany us back up to the palace?” 

“Gladly.” There was something very loaded in Padmé’s tone, with the implication that this was more than just a simple request for an escort. 

Ahsoka caught one more look at Gunray before she stepped into the turbolift, and remembered how he’d let slip Lord Sidious’s name in the throne room. She had nearly dropped her lightsaber when he said it. 

“We have been questioning the Viceroy,” Padmé said as the doors closed. “He is a fearful man.”

Padmé paused there, words hanging in the air, and Ahsoka waited, listening to the floor indicator tick upwards.

“I did not hurt him in any way. No law was violated. I simply asked him questions, and he was more than willing to answer. I do not expect anything he said to stand up in a Republic court. I will turn him over to the Judicial Forces in short order, and I will let them do their own work. What I asked him today was for Naboo alone.”

Ahsoka felt as if the Force was frothing around her, sending her into a solar storm without instruments. She knew where Padmé was taking this, and she had no idea how to respond. 

“I wanted to know who Lord Sidious was.” 

This wasn’t part of Ahsoka’s plan. The floor of the turbolift was glossy. 

“He didn’t know.” Suddenly, Padmé’s voice was dripping with disgust. “For a year Gunray followed the orders of a shadowy figure who he never once saw the face of. Among his many characteristics that appall me, I cannot fathom his gullibility.”

The turbolift jerked to a stop, and the doors slid open, revealing an expanse of shining metal in strange shapes, shrouded by emergency lighting. Only when Ahsoka saw a sink to her right did she realize they were in the kitchens. 

“Please forgive the location,” Padmé said. “I cannot wait any longer to talk to you, but I have to prepare for Chancellor Palpatine’s arrival.” 

Ahsoka’s nerves pricked at the mention of Sidious, her senses suddenly on high alert again.

“He is sending every ounce of aid he can find, and he promised he would be on the first ship, which should be arriving within the hour.” 

Ahsoka limited her outward reaction to a nod as her stomach dropped. She wasn’t delusional; she knew capturing Maul would draw a response from Sidious, but this was faster than she’d anticipated. And she hadn’t missed the other piece of bad news in Padmé’s words—Sidious was Chancellor now. Which meant his plan was proceeding exactly as before.

She couldn’t make Maul spill anything in less than an hour. She couldn’t trust anyone but herself to guard him, and Qui-Gon wouldn’t let her near him. Could she get Maul off the planet before Sidious arrived? And there was always the option to tell the Jedi that Palpatine was the Sith Lord and they needed to kill him as soon as he set foot on the planet, if she was feeling utterly insane. Well, she was used to dealing with situations where all the options looked bad. 

The rest of Padmé’s handmaidens had joined them sometime while Ahsoka was lost in thought, including one (Yané, the Force said) who had a pile of the Queen’s robes in her arms.

“Your highness,” Ahsoka said. “You were saying about Gunray?”

Padmé was silent for a moment as two other handmaidens came forward, producing a makeup kit. As they began applying it, she spoke slowly around each brushstroke. “Gunray told me that Lord Sidious delivered multiple covert assassinations to strengthen his political position in the Federation. Sidious orchestrated every step of this blockade. Every step of this plan was this man’s doing. He set his sights on destroying Naboo, and I have no idea who he could be, or why he would do this.” Padmé’s face was painted white now, and she waited while Rabé carefully applied one decorative dot to each cheek. “Sidious told the Viceroy that he was a Sith Lord.”

Ahsoka struggled for a measured way to reply as Rabé placed the regnal hairpiece on Padmé’s head. 

“That… doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “Do you know what a Sith Lord is?”

“They cultivated brutality and destruction, and were ideologically opposed to the Jedi. Am I correct?” Lifting one foot, then the other, the handmaidens switched out Padmé’s shoes. 

“You are.”  

“Then you may be able to help me figure out the identity of this man.”

“It’s not easy to find a Sith,” Ahsoka said. “You’d be better off asking Master Yoda or Master Windu.”

“Allow me to clarify. I am asking you for your help because you are the one who rescued Naboo,” Padmé said. Her eyes bored into Ahsoka.

“I… I understand,” she said.

Now a distant possibility was blooming in the back of her mind. Something unthinkably farfetched, something which would surely get her thrown off the planet, and yet… playing things safe hadn’t been a winning strategy in the Clone Wars. 

Padmé nodded. “I could go into great detail about exactly what Sidious ordered Gunray to do, how he seemed to know the exact strategy needed to destroy this planet with ruthless efficiency, how he ordered Gunray to massacre the Gungan army, or a hundred other things. But there is one particular thing which I am struggling to understand above all else.” She raised her elbows as three handmaidens began the process of transferring the robes from Yané to her, everything fitting neatly over her handmaiden’s outfit. “Sidious knew I was returning to Naboo long before the rest of the galaxy did. The moment when Sidious told Gunray of my return was roughly around the same time I boarded my ship. I did not make my departure public. I don’t understand how he could have known, unless he was…”

“In a position where he could get that information,” Ahsoka said. 

The grim implications of that hung in the air, even as her heart beat faster and faster. This conversation was leading down a path she almost didn’t dare to pursue.

“Who did you tell you were leaving?” she said at last.

“The Jedi Council,” Padmé said. “The Senate was likely informed next. If he is in the Senate…”

Sabé pulled the last sleeve of Padmé’s royal robes neatly into its place, and almost at the same moment, something beeped. Yané withdrew a comm from her pocket, listened to a garbled transmission for a moment, and then nodded to Padmé. “The initial aid ships have arrived, my lady. With the Chancellor.” 

Ahsoka stiffened. 

“We’re almost out of time,” Padmé said. 

No, they were out of time. She had to do something right now or Maul, her best opportunity to expose Sidious, would be gone.

“Do you have any idea who Lord Sidious might be?” Padmé said. “Or even where we might start looking for him?”

Ahsoka didn’t reply immediately. Plo’s words from earlier were echoing louder and louder inside her head. 

Make your own luck.

She reached out into the Force, scanning the room for bugs, microphones, cameras, anything that might let Sidious listen in on them. She wasn’t being paranoid—this was Sidious’s home planet, and he could have surveillance devices anywhere. But, thankfully, there was nothing. The room was blissfully innocent.

“Tell me exactly what you did after you decided to leave for Naboo,” she said as a way of probing just how far she might get.

“I talked with Captain Panaka to ascertain what allies we might have in the city. I inspected the layout of the royal palace. I consulted with the Senator before informing the Council and boarding my ship, and we—”

Ahsoka felt a sudden ferocious surge of protectiveness at how Padmé skimmed right over the mention of Palpatine, and how the handmaidens took no notice of the significance of those words, how clearly absent the suspicion which should’ve been there was. Just how deeply had Palpatine sunk the lie into their minds that he meant no harm? Well, she knew how thoroughly he’d made everyone believe he was a kindly old man trying to make the galaxy a better place. It sickened her.

Believing those lies had cost Padmé her life. Ahsoka looked at the child in funerary dress standing in front of her, the same age Ahsoka had been when she first set foot on a battlefield, and the memory of Padmé’s funeral—that pale, lifeless face in the coffin—seared her mind. 

She knew she had to try. 

“I think I know who Lord Sidious is,” she burst out before she could change her mind.

Padmé’s eyebrows rose. “Who?” 

“Who profited the most from this?” she said, her words almost sharper than she intended. Even if she didn’t believe Ahsoka after this, Padmé would never look at Palpatine the same. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to make a difference. If she could see Palpatine’s true colors just a little bit sooner…

“Has anyone profited from this? The Federation will be in shambles after…” Padmé trailed off, looking carefully at Ahsoka. “You don’t think Sidious’s goal was to strengthen the Federation.” 

“Sidious was using the Federation. And what I’ve learned about the Sith,” Ahsoka said slowly, “Is that when the Sith move pieces on the board, if they get what they want, they don’t care what happens to their pawns. He got what he wanted.”

“You say that as if this Sith has already received his reward.” 

Ahsoka nodded once in reply.

Padmé frowned slightly. “If Sidious is somewhere in the Senate, that makes no sense. There has been no action from the Senate in response to the invasion except for—”

Abruptly, all sound ceased to come from Padmé’s mouth. She stood, frozen, her eyes slowly widening, until suddenly a torrent of words flew out almost all at once.

“He was elected Chancellor. He was elected Chancellor on the strength of sympathy for Naboo. He urged me to call for a vote of no confidence. I told him I was returning to Naboo before I told anyone else. He told me we would have to accept the occupation for the time being.”

Ahsoka, standing on a knife’s edge, felt a distant sensation of something unraveling in the Force, and hoped it was a good sign.

“The man who destroyed my planet is now the leader of the Republic.”

The handmaidens, normally unflappable, were exchanging looks of bare horror. Padmé gave a very small shake of her head, and then spoke in a voice quiet yet so full of venom it sent a chill down Ahsoka’s spine.

“I will kill him.”

Padmé whirled and stalked towards the door, and it wasn’t until she snatched a carving knife from one of the counters that Ahsoka realized she was not exaggerating in the slightest. Thankfully, the handmaidens were quicker to react than her. Sabé caught her by the elbow just before she reached the door.

Padmé tried to shake her off with a violent twist. “Let. Me. Go.”

“My lady—”

“I am going to slit his throat. I am going to tear his limbs from his body with my bare hands. I am going to feed his offal to the sando aqua monsters. I am—”

Eirtaé and Rabé grasped her other arm, which only made Padmé struggle harder. “He will not leave this planet alive!” she roared, somehow dragging herself closer to the door despite the resistance. 

The rest of the handmaidens closed in, forming a tight circle around her, and Sabé leaned in close to Padmé, speaking softly into her ear. “My lady, think of your safety—”

“Safety be damned!” Padmé made another fruitless shove towards the door, absorbed by the circle. “He’ll underestimate me enough to let me get close, and then I do not care what happens after that!”

“My lady,” Sabé said again, her voice even softer, more insistent, more calming. “If you kill Palpatine now, the galaxy will only ever remember him as a hero.”  

That finally made Padmé cease her struggling, and she was silent for a few moments before she took a deep, shuddering breath, buried her face in Sabé’s shoulder, and began sobbing in great angry heaves. 

“I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.”

“I know. I know. I know,” Sabé whispered, rubbing circles into Padmé’s back as the rest of the handmaidens surrounded her completely, now a human shield against the outside world. Saché took Padmé’s hand which held the knife, unwrapping each clenched finger from the handle before gently pulling it away and placing it aside. 

“We do too, your highness,” Eirtaé said. 

Ahsoka turned away to stare at her reflection in the hanging pots and pans, suddenly guilty for seeing Padmé like this as the sound of her mournful rage filled the room. 

Yané’s comm beeped. She immediately muted it, but the sound seemed to pull Padmé back into herself. She lifted her head, the last of her sobs and a single hiccup trailing off. There was a smear of white on Sabé’s shoulder where Padmé had laid her head. Saché wiped it clean, while Eirtaé and Rabé quickly reapplied Padmé’s makeup. Once it was done, she turned back to Ahsoka, the blanket of regality settling over her again.

“I apologize for you having to see me in this state,” Padmé said, not a trace of unevenness remaining in her voice.  

Ahsoka felt a rising urge to give her a suffocating hug. “You don’t have to be sorry. I know exactly what it’s like to lose everything.”

“What do I do now?” Despite a clear effort on Padmé’s part to speak normally, her voice was as small as Ahsoka had ever heard it.

It was probably rhetorical, but for once Ahsoka had an answer to a hopeless question. With an encouraging, gentle tone, she said, “There’s something we should do immediately.”  

Padmé looked up, surprised and daring to hope. The hope in her expression brought warmth to Ahsoka’s heart. 

Padmé didn’t waste time. As soon as the turbolift doors opened, she strode out into the bunker, making a beeline for Maul’s cell, and punched a code into the blast doors. They slid open, revealing Qui-Gon on one side of a ray shield and the shackled form of Maul on the other side.

Ahsoka followed her in, watching Maul. In addition to the cuffs she’d slapped on him, there was now a Force-binding collar around his neck and several sets of hardened durasteel bindings trapping his arms at his side. He was slouched against the far wall, but he straightened as soon as he recognized Ahsoka. Even with everything Force-dampening on him, she still felt the fresh wave of rage that rolled off him. Qui-Gon, meanwhile, was mildly surprised.

“Master Jinn,” Padmé said, not waiting for Qui-Gon to speak. “On my authority as the elected sovereign of Naboo and with this prisoner currently under my jurisdiction, I am ordering you to let Master Tano speak to the prisoner without further delay.”

Make that majorly surprised. Qui-Gon’s mouth fell open. He glanced from Padmé, to Ahsoka, and then back to Padmé. 

“Your highness,” he said. “This prisoner is a Jedi concern. It could mean the safety of the entire Order.”

“Need I remind you that technically, no Jedi presence on Naboo was ever officially authorized? Which means, no matter how important this is to the Jedi Order, Naboo’s claim to him as a prisoner takes precedence. I will officially release him into your custody, after Master Tano is allowed to speak to him.” 

Qui-Gon crossed his arms and looked at Ahsoka. “I don’t suppose this means you’re going to tell me what you’re holding back.” 

Ahsoka shook her head. 

Qui-Gon fell into an interminable silence. Ahsoka considered the merits of just picking him up and tossing him out. Every second that passed reminded her Sidious was somewhere in the city with a precise and deadly plan for extracting Maul. 

“Very well,” he said finally with a sigh. “But I request to stay here while they talk.”

Padmé looked to Ahsoka, who nodded immediately. “Fine by me.”

Qui-Gon had actually started moving towards the door before her reply, and surprise rolled off him when he processed her words. “—Well. I appreciate it.”

Ahsoka took that as her cue to start and deactivated the ray shield. Ignoring Qui-Gon’s noise of protest, she crossed the room to Maul.

“You,” Maul said, his voice hoarse. 

“Yes, me,” Ahsoka said, carefully choosing every word for maximum incitement. “Don’t look so surprised. You asked for me.” 

“You believe yourself to be powerful,” Maul said, and he seemed to be on the edge of launching into some tirade, but she didn’t let him get any further. 

“When did you figure that out? When I kicked your spiky ass six ways to Serenno?” 

Maul jerked forward, growling, but his restraints held. 

“Feeling feisty? Do I need to beat your ass again? This time, I won’t stop until it’s concave.” 

“You won by mere chance—”

“You’re looking a little grumpy.” Ahsoka tilted her head. “I blame it on your posture. That can’t be comfortable. How long have you been sitting like that? Want to get up?” When Maul’s glare only deepened, she reached out to him. “Need a hand?” She glanced down conspicuously to Maul’s bandaged stumps and let a smug smile spread across her face. “Oh, wait.”

There were several choked noises from the other side of the room, probably stifled laughter, and one of them sounded suspiciously like it came from Qui-Gon.

Maul roared impotently and twisted against his binders, nearly butting his head into her knee, but came up just short. Ahsoka silently resolved to not let Maul escape, if for no other reason than he would spend the rest of his life being an unbearable annoyance to her and trying to kill everyone she cared about.

“So was there an actual reason you wanted me here?” she said.

“If you think you have defeated me—”

“I do, thank you.”

“—You will quake under the power of my master,” Maul rasped, his tone only growing louder at Ahsoka’s interruption. “Even as we speak, he is coming for me. And he is coming for you. I will be liberated, and you will be destroyed. Know that the Dark is inescapable.” 

With that, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. Ahsoka could tell the conversation was over, but it didn’t matter, because Maul had just given her exactly what she’d been hoping for. 

She reached into her utility belt, withdrew the hypospray she’d commandeered from a first-aid kit in the kitchens, and jabbed it into Maul’s neck in one swift motion. His eyes flew open and he struggled for a moment, snarling incomprehensibly at her, but Ahsoka had already pressed the plunger down all the way. His gaze turned glassy as Qui-Gon leapt forward. 

“What have you done?!” he said, shoving her aside and bending over Maul, feeling for a pulse.

“I sedated him,” Ahsoka said, holding the empty hypospray tube out to him for inspection. 

Qui-Gon took it with a look of intense suspicion, turned it over in his hands several times, and looked up, barely mollified. “What in the Force for?”

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Ahsoka said. “You’re going to pick up Maul, take him to the turbolift, and take it up to the courtyard, where the Queen’s ship is waiting. It is unstaffed, but it’s capable of being flown entirely by its crew of astromech droids. You’re going to get on that ship with Maul, get out of Naboo’s gravity well as fast as possible, and make a jump to Coruscant. When you get there, you’re going to bring him to the Jedi Temple and put him in a secure cell.” 

“Have you gone insane?” 

“Did you hear what Maul told me?” Ahsoka said, letting the genuinely real panic she was feeling leak into her voice. “A Sith Master is coming to this planet.” 

“That’s troubling, but—”

“And why do you think he’s coming to this planet, a nice vacation? We’ve got his apprentice in our hands who might spill all his secrets to us, and this Sith is either going to rescue Maul or silence him!”

“We don’t have the security to move him yet!” 

“So you’re going to keep him here? In a building with gaping holes in it? In a prison cell running on emergency generator power?” 

“How is putting me alone on a ship with him any safer?”

Ahsoka really wished he hadn’t asked that, because it conveniently reminded her she was putting Qui-Gon on a ship with the man who had killed him. Was she tempting fate? Maybe, but they were out of time and they didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t put Maul on a ship alone.  And she couldn’t be on the ship with Maul because she had to find Anakin and Shmi and also keep an eye on Sidious. Force forbid, Sidious could find them before she did. 

“I don’t think you understand how dire the situation is. If somebody says a Sith is coming, you assume the Sith’s already arrived. Keeping him here is the least safe option. You just don’t realize it yet. And if it’s safety you’re worried about—” Ahsoka reached into her pack and withdrew two more hyposprays she’d looted from the kitchens. “There’s more sedative on the ship, enough to keep him zonked until Coruscant. Don’t worry about overdosing him. If he’s any good at being a Sith, you’ll need more than what the average Zabrak can take to kill him.” 

Qui-Gon didn’t take the hyposprays. “This is ridiculous.”

“Listen—” Ahsoka cast about for some way to make her point. “—How many Sith have you fought?” 

Qui-Gon looked incredulous at the question, but answered nonetheless. “One.” 

“Congratulations. You’ve accomplished as much as the average Padawan in my time. Until you’ve fought as many Sith as I have, you should probably follow my advice.”

Qui-Gon frowned—but at the very least, it was a frown of contemplation, and Ahsoka’s heart rose as she wondered if maybe she was finally making progress. 

At that moment, Sabé’s comm went off. Qui-Gon took no notice of it, but suddenly all Ahsoka could pay attention to was Sabé quietly answering her comm, listening to a transmission, and then whispering into Padmé’s ear. When Padmé’s expression hardened, Ahsoka realized their Plan B was happening. 

“Master Jinn,” Padmé said, stepping up to his right. 

At the moment Qui-Gon turned to Padmé, Sabé stepped to his right and pressed the fourth and final hypospray they’d taken from the medkits into his side. 

Qui-Gon gasped, and then collapsed. Padmé, Sabé, and Ahsoka caught him before he hit the ground. 

“Sorry,” Ahsoka muttered to his still-troubled countenance as she slung him over one shoulder and Maul over the other shoulder. “I wish it hadn’t come to this.” To Sabé, as they squeezed into the turbolift: “You only gave him a quarter-dose, right?”

Sabé nodded. “On someone his size, he should be awake in ten minutes.” 

“Perfect. Palpatine’s at the temple?”

“His procession is pulling up to the main gates. I ordered Panaka to do a full security scan of their speeders to slow them down, but that will only get us a minute.”

“That’s all we need,” Ahsoka said as the turbolift opened and Padmé’s shining cruiser greeted them. And waiting on the boarding ramp was Artoo. 

“Hey, little guy,” Ahsoka said as normally as she could manage while carrying an unconscious Jedi Master and an even more unconscious Sith Lord. “Is the ship ready?” 

Beepbeep!

Ahsoka handed Qui-Gon’s lightsaber to Artoo. “I knew I could count on you. Make sure this guy wakes up, okay? And make sure this one—” she dumped Maul into a waiting gravsled and pushed it up into the ship— “Stays asleep. This should be enough sedative to keep him knocked out, but you have permission to electrocute him if he moves a muscle.”

Artoo accepted the last two hyposprays and gave a whistle of glee.

“That’s the spirit.” Ahsoka patted his dome. “I’ll see you on Coruscant.” 

With a final beep, Artoo rolled up the ramp, and no sooner had the ramp closed behind him when the ship lifted off, pointing its nose skyward before the landing gear was fully retracted and making a climb probably faster than what would be considered safe, but Ahsoka didn’t mind right now. She didn’t relax until the ship was indistinguishable from any of the stars in the night sky, and then… With a little luck, Qui-Gon and Maul would arrive on Coruscant before the other Jedi noticed they were gone. 

She almost collapsed with relief. Kriffing hell, she’d done it. Darth Maul was in Jedi custody. She’d somehow salvaged one good thing from this disaster. 

Well… maybe two things. She glanced over at Padmé.

“I feel as if I am going utterly insane,” Padmé said, still looking skyward. “And perhaps I am. I do not trust myself to be in Palpatine’s vicinity at the moment. So the Royal Council will have to greet him by themselves. My handmaidens and I are going to be with the people of Naboo. And I would like you to come with us, Master Tano.”

The speeder ride was slow as they made their way over immense craters and piles of rubble still being cleared. It was still night, and in many places the only light came from hastily erected floodlights, bright beams cutting through air still thick with dust and smoke, illuminating search crews crawling over wreckage. More than once, they had to slow to a crawl as they passed through huddled crowds. Ahsoka scanned every face she saw, looking for Shmi and Anakin. Those two were basically the entire reason she was staying on the planet and not escorting Maul to Coruscant herself. She had to find them.

Their destination was the prisoner camps, where the casualties were the worst and where the first aid ships were arriving. As they left the city proper, the building rubble thinned out, but the craters did not. Padmé remained quiet throughout the ride, looking out at the destruction with a stony expression. It was only when they drew near the camps that she made a sound, a horrified gasp as they passed the first pile of corpses.

And then she spoke, her voice ragged with despair. “My planet is in shambles because of me.”  

Ahsoka’s reply was instant. “No. None of this is your fault.” 

 “It was my refusal to sign the treaty—and my decision to return at all—that led to so many deaths. It should be me dead, and not them.”

“And what do you think would’ve happened if you didn’t come back?” It wasn’t until the words were out of her mouth that Ahsoka realized she was basically repeating what Plo had said to her barely an hour ago. Now she wondered if this was how he’d felt listening to her blame herself.

“I…” Padmé trailed off.

“Naboo would be starved into nothingness,” Ahsoka said. “Or forced into subservience to the Trade Federation. Probably both.”

And yeah, Plo was definitely right. 

“I cannot argue with that conclusion.” 

“There are very few people who would’ve had the strength to resist the Trade Federation’s demands, your highness.” Looking at Padmé right now, Ahsoka couldn’t help but be reminded of her earlier days in the Rebellion, when there’d been a seemingly endless gauntlet of hard choices with only bad and worse outcomes, and plenty of guilt despite the literal impossibility of achieving anything more than small victories. In fact, Padmé brought to mind one particular word from her past. “If it wasn’t for you, your planet would not be free and everything here would be so much worse. You were the fulcrum that tipped this conflict in favor of Naboo.” 

Padmé didn’t reply, and as they approached the outskirts of the prisoner camps, Ahsoka wondered if there was nothing left to say. 

Several freighters and medships that had touched down in a circle signaled where the epicenter of activity in the camps was, and as their speeder made a beeline for the ships, Padmé brightened suddenly.

“The Refugee Relief Movement!” 

“Hm?” Ahsoka squinted, noticing a large “RRM” logo stenciled on ships’ sides. “What’s that?”

“The largest aid organization on Coruscant. Of course they would be the first ones here. Besides—” Padmé’s smile turned slightly sad. “—My father is the RRM’s president.”

“Oh.” Ahsoka struggled to think if she’d ever met or even seen Padmé’s parents, and then it hit her like a brick—the first and only time she’d ever seen them was at her funeral. 

“My father might even be on one of these ships. But I almost hope he isn’t. He always took comfort in being able to return to a peaceful home after working on ravaged planets. But now—what will seeing this do to him?” Padmé fell silent, and then turned to Ahsoka. “You spoke of this fight as if it was a victory for Naboo, but it feels like anything but that.”

Ahsoka wondered, at what point in the Clone Wars had the galaxy accepted high casualty counts as the price of victory? And how much did Palpatine have to do with that acceptance?  “Just remember, the Trade Federation will never be able to do this again,” she said.

Technically, that hadn’t been true the first time around. The Federation certainly had no problem plundering planets during the war. But she was going to make damn sure they never regained their strength this time. 

Padmé smiled tightly, her tone suddenly grim. “I intend to make sure of that.”

The speeder stopped. They were at the aid ships. Padmé quickly disembarked, and within moments a crowd of civilians was gathering around her. Ahsoka watched her go, caught up in remembrance for a moment, and then jogged towards the ships. This seemed like a place where people would gravitate—potentially a place to find Shmi and Anakin, or find someone who’d seen them. 

She’d just passed the first ship when a voice called out. 

“Master Tano.”

She recognized the voice before she saw its source—Mace Windu, sitting on a stretcher in the open belly of the ship, being examined by what appeared to be a Jedi medic, and Yoda next to him. Initially, she was concerned, but there was nothing in their expressions to suggest anything was wrong. Although they did both look a little wan.

“Masters,” she said, approaching. “Is everything all right?” 

“Absolutely not,” the Jedi medic said before Windu had a chance to reply. “These two were healing until they literally passed out. I would have them both hooked up to an IV right now if those weren’t in such short supply.” 

“Busy, we have been,” Yoda said. 

“And you’re not allowed to be busy again for at least several hours,” the medic said, unwrapping a blood pressure cuff from Windu’s arm. “I’m going to go make some rounds. If you try to leave before I come back, I’m strapping you to this stretcher.” With that, she hurried off. 

“Thirty minutes of rest and then I’m getting back to healing,” Windu said as soon as the medic was out of earshot. 

Ahsoka knelt down to retie the laces on her boots, turning her thoughts to how she might find Anakin and Shmi. She was confident they weren’t dead—she absolutely would’ve sensed it—but they could be trapped somewhere, hurt. Maybe it would be a better idea to go back to the palace, help look for survivors in the wreckage. It was entirely possible Shmi had been caught in the explosion.

She opened herself up to the Force, looking for some hint in its currents, but unexpectedly felt a set of eyes looking at her. She looked up to see Windu staring at her. 

“What?” she said, more than a little defensively.

Windu blinked as if he’d been lost in thought. “Nothing.” 

Ahsoka was suspicious, and made no effort to disguise it. Mace Windu wasn’t the type of person to have his head in the clouds. As she finished tying her first boot, he reached out a finger into empty air, and then immediately withdrew it as if he’d touched something hot. 

“Are you sure you don’t need more rest?” Ahsoka said.

Once again, Windu looked like he was being pulled out of a reverie. He rubbed his forehead, let out a long sigh, and then fixed a clear-eyed gaze on her. “What you did today was extremely impressive.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that in my life.”

Windu didn’t know this, but these were words that she was etching into the inside of her brain. 

“I have to admit, even in the absence of any other plausible explanation, I was struggling to believe you could be from the past,” Windu said slowly. “But now, I am convinced.” He shifted his position on the stretcher, never taking his eyes off Ahsoka. “It has been a long time since Jedi were soldiers. Long enough that it has faded from the Order’s memory. Yes, we have been in many conflicts, fought many battles, but those were all isolated incidents. We have always had a respite, a peaceful center and status quo we could quickly return to. We cannot imagine ourselves as anything but keepers of peace. But you…”

“A soldier, you are,” Yoda said. 

Ahsoka stayed quiet, working on the knots of her other boot and pulling them extra-tight. 

Windu nodded. “You operate differently from us. War is brutal, and you are familiar with its  brutality in a way that none of us are.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. But the strange transformation of the Jedi Council into its tired, worn form in the final days of the war suddenly made much more sense. A thousand years of peace, and then three years of constant hell. It wasn’t just Order 66 she had to prevent. The entire war had to be stopped. 

Laces tied, she stood back up and stretched. “I wish I wasn’t,” she said.

A light tap on her knee—from Yoda’s cane. “Unlearn war, it is possible to,” Yoda said. “Time is all you need.” 

Can’t. Not yet.

Ahsoka didn’t say that out loud, of course, but Windu and Yoda could probably sense what she was feeling. She was more than happy to let the conversation lapse into silence, until suddenly Windu glanced over Ahsoka’s shoulder and said in a flat tone, “What is that.”

She turned. ‘That’ was a battle droid, walking out of the next ship over, with a dented bucket over its head. Someone had drawn a smiling face on the bucket and punched out two holes for its visual sensors. Her first instinct was to go for her sabers, but she immediately realized the droid was carrying a crate of supplies, and nobody around it seemed phased by its presence.

She stared at the droid, trying to make sense of it, and then something occurred to her. That looked exactly like something—

“Ahsoka!”

Ahsoka sensed a small mass barreling into her at full speed, and spun just in time to catch— 

“Anakin?” She stared at Anakin, who she was holding upright because he’d jumped towards her and she’d caught him in midair on reflex. 

“Ahsoka!” Anakin cheered. “You’re safe! I was so worried after the big explosion but Mom said you know how to take care of yourself and then there were a lot more explosions so we just kept running until we ended up here and there’s a lot of hurt people and I thought maybe you were hurt too, did you get hurt? Did you fight the big scary guy with horns?” 

“Ani, give her time to say something too.” 

Ahsoka recognized Shmi’s voice and sagged with relief as she joined them, gently taking Anakin out of Ahsoka’s arms and setting him on the ground. 

“Don’t worry, Anakin, I’m not hurt,” Ahsoka said before Anakin could launch back into his frantic questioning. “Are you and your mom okay?”

“We’re fine,” Shmi said. “Shaken, but fine.” 

“You’re really okay?” Anakin said, squinting at her. “The guy with horns looked really mean. Worse than Sebulba.”

Ahsoka stifled a wild laugh. “Yes, Anakin, I’m completely okay. Not even a scratch.” 

“Good.” Then, without warning, Anakin bolted forward and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Oh,” Ahsoka said, and it was all she could say because some part of her had thought she wouldn’t ever be able to hug Anakin again. Tentatively, she reached down and hugged him back, and Anakin made a happy noise.

“You seem to have done a very good job of protecting us so far,” Shmi said, her voice pleasantly self-assured.

Oh, kriff. 

“Did you see my droids?” Anakin said, pulling back. 

“What?” Ahsoka stared at him. “You mean the battle droid with the bucket on its head?” 

Anakin puffed up with pride. “Yeah! Hey, VVM-6!” 

Apparently, that was the droid’s name, because it put down its crate and walked jerkily over to them. 

“VVM, meet Ahsoka. Ahsoka, meet VVM,” Anakin said. 

The droid turned to Ahsoka and held out one of its grabbers. “Pleased to meet you,” it said nasally.

It took Ahsoka a moment to react because of the utter weirdness of being greeted politely by a voice which usually came from something trying to shoot her. Overriding reflexes honed by countless battles from the Clone Wars which screamed at her to snap this droid in half, she reached out and shook. The droid’s hand was cold and not really suited to a handshake, but its grasp was surprisingly gentle. 

“Hello,” she said. She looked down to Anakin. “How?” 

Anakin patted the droid’s leg. “I wanted to help out, but there wasn’t anything I could do, so I reprogrammed her! She’s carried a bunch of boxes! And Mom said that people might be scared of a battle droid walking around, so I made her a different face so she’d be less scary.” 

Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile at that. “Well, it’s definitely less scary.” 

Then something Anakin had said earlier caught up with her. “Wait, did you say droids? As in, more than one?” 

“Yeah! I had three! They’re really easy to reprogram. But the other two ran out of battery and VVM’s going to run out of battery soon.” His face dropped into a pout. “I can’t find any other droids in good condition to fix.” 

Ahsoka ruffled his hair. “You did a good job!”

Anakin brightened. “Really? Did you hear that, VVM? We’re doing a good job! You should go move some more crates!” 

The droid nodded, a motion that looked like it’d never been designed for, and walked off again. 

As Ahsoka watched VVM go, she noticed Windu and Yoda were watching closely, and with a start, she realized they were watching with approval. 

“That was a good idea, young one,” Windu said. 

“Even when small, always a way to help, there is,” Yoda added. “Found a way, you have.” 

Anakin beamed.

Ahsoka took a deep breath and surveyed the area, watching the thousands of people helping other people. All of her despair from just an hour ago felt as if it was dissipating. Some good had come out of this. Anakin and Shmi were safe. All of the Jedi were alive. Darth Maul was in custody. And Padmé knew exactly what Palpatine was capable of. Maybe, just maybe, she could make things better.

Once again, she remembered Plo’s words. Make your own luck. Whenever she stopped caring about how things were supposed to go, things got better. So she’d failed to protect Anakin once—why should she let what’d happened in a different time prevent her from trying again? 

Shmi just wasn’t going to let anyone else train Anakin. It was either Ahsoka, or no one. Things were well and truly off the rails now. Time to embrace it. 

She looked over to Shmi, who was hugging Anakin to her side in a relaxed but protective stance, watching the stream of activity around them. As Ahsoka continued to watch, Shmi turned her head as if hearing something, and then looked directly at her. 

An unspoken question passed between them. Shmi looked down at Anakin and then meaningfully back to Ahsoka, raising an eyebrow. 

In reply, Ahsoka gave a single emphatic nod. 

Anakin would be her Padawan. Force help her. 

Shmi smiled. It was a smile that said she’d seen this coming. 

Chapter Text

The Judicial Corps cruiser functioning as Ahsoka’s temporary sleeping quarters was far more comfortable than any Republic ship she’d ridden on during the Clone Wars. Which made it all the more irritating that she couldn’t fall asleep.

Sufficient aid was arriving on Naboo. More Jedi were here, helping. There was no shortage of medics now. Maul was off the planet. She could rest. And yet, as she stared up at the gray ceiling of her bunkroom, her mind wouldn’t stop reeling through a hundred different things. 

She didn’t feel safe as long as she was sharing a planet with Palpatine. She had Darth Maul’s lightsaber clipped to her belt and she didn’t know what to do with it. Every minute that she was lying here was another minute closer to the apocalypse. She’d have to do something about the clones at some point. She was going to train Anakin. She was going to train Anakin. She was going to train Anakin. 

What the fuck was she thinking. 

How was she supposed to be responsible for the growth of someone who she’d known as a fully grown adult? 

Something clanged on the outside of the ship. She rolled over and jabbed at her pillow, trying to mold it into something more comfortable. Of course they only had human-style pillows on this ship. 

She closed her eyes, reaching out into the Force. She could sense Anakin and Shmi just down the hall in a bunk, both of them having no trouble sleeping. She lingered on their presences, taking comfort in how they seemed to radiate warmth. 

Okay. She just had to treat Anakin like his own person. That was a good starting point. He was going to be different. He wasn’t the same person she’d known. That was okay. That was what she was trying to tell herself, at least. 

Finally, she decided sleep wouldn’t be coming anytime soon, and she rolled off her bunk. Food time. There was a small galley in these quarters, nothing fancy, but enough to make something that wasn’t horrible. She opened a cabinet and discovered a crate of ration bars—a good starting point. 

Just as she began unwrapping the bars, her comm beeped.

“Tano speaking,” she said, flicking it on. 

“Tano.” Mace Windu’s voice came through with a clear note of worry. Ahsoka stiffened, wondering what new disaster— 

“Master Jinn and the Sith have vanished from the intelligence bunker, and we haven’t found a trace of them anywhere.” 

“Oh!” Ahsoka sagged with relief, and also a little sheepishness. Qui-Gon and Maul had almost made it to Coruscant before their disappearance was noticed. They might even be dropping out of hyperspace right now. “That’s not a problem.”

“Do you know where they are?” Windu said. 

She rummaged around in the cabinets for a water heater. “Yeah, so. About that. Qui-Gon brought me into the interrogation because Maul asked for me specifically, and then he told me that his master was coming to rescue him and kill us all.” 

“That’s concerning,” Windu said flatly. 

“And, well, I didn’t like the sound of that, so we decided we needed to transport Maul to Coruscant as fast as possible. So I sedated Maul and put him and Qui-Gon on a ship headed to Coruscant. They should be at the Temple in a few hours, and he should be secure there, right?” Technically, none of that was a lie. Ahsoka and Qui-Gon had agreed to transport Maul, it was just that Qui-Gon hadn’t had a very active role in agreeing. 

“Right…” Windu’s tone was odd. “And you didn’t think to tell us about this sooner?” 

She’d found a water heater. “Anything involving an unknown Sith is a comms blackout for me. I won’t say anything over a channel they might be listening in on.”

“Tano, we were literally standing next to each other last night.” 

“In a very crowded area with ships landing! The Sith Lord could’ve been right next to you or me!” That wasn’t even idle speculation. Windu had gone to talk with Palpatine a few hours later. “I wasn’t going to say anything until we were in a secure location!” 

“You’re telling me this over a comm channel now, though,” Windu said. 

“That’s because they’re about to land on Coruscant.” 

Windu started to reply, but a knock at the door drew Ahsoka’s attention away. “It’s open!” she called. 

Obi-Wan (also supposed to be resting on this ship) poked his head in, a datapad in hand. “Why is Qui-Gon sending me messages saying he was knocked out and kidnapped by you, Queen Amidala, and an insane astromech droid?”

“Good news! They’ve arrived!” Ahsoka said to Windu. Secretly, she was quite relieved Qui-Gon was okay, but she wasn’t going to admit that anytime soon. 

“What did Padawan Kenobi just say?” Windu said.

Obi-Wan opened the door all the way. “Aren’t you going to deny it?”

“Ask him if Maul’s in a secure cell yet,” Ahsoka said.

“I don’t know what that means, but…” Obi-Wan tapped out a message. “He says yes, and that still doesn’t mean he was a willing participant at any point in this kidnapping plot. He is quite emphatic about the kidnapping part.”

“It wasn’t a kidnapping,” Ahsoka said. “He’s free to go wherever he wants.” 

“That doesn’t mean—” 

Windu spoke up again. “Is this why you didn’t tell us about moving Maul?”

“ “Look, there was a Sith Lord, and I learned a long time ago you just don’t take chances with them.” 

“...We’ll talk about this when we get back to the Temple. I need to speak to the Queen. Good day, Master Tano.”  

Well, that was a sentiment she’d heard quite a lot during the Clone Wars. 

“I—Oh, that’s a long message,” Obi-Wan said.

Ahsoka leaned over and peered at the screen. 

—An incredible offense, an assault on my person, a barefaced breach of every protocol we have in regards to handling prisoners, a mockery of my duty, a—

“Here, I’ll take care of that.” She pulled the datapad out of Obi-Wan’s hands and dashed off a reply. It was actually incredibly tiring being the only person who could see the real threat. Given enough time, it might even drive her insane. 

I did what I had to do. Half-measures CANNOT be taken where Sith are concerned. You’ll see the wisdom of my choice eventually.

“You could’ve at least told him the message was from you!” Obi-Wan sputtered as Ahsoka handed the datapad back.

“Sorry. I think he’ll guess.”

She tossed her comm onto the bed and turned her full attention to her food. Obi-Wan didn’t leave, instead watching her as she tore open flavor packets and emptied the contents into a bowl. 

“You seem oddly unconcerned about being in trouble about this,” he said at last. 

Ahsoka shrugged. “If I get in trouble for doing the right thing, so be it.” 

“How do you know…” Obi-Wan trailed off. “What are you doing?” 

“This?” Ahsoka was emptying the last of the flavor packets onto the ration bars. “Adding flavor.” 

“Yes, but… do you know that you’re only supposed to use one of those packets at a time? Each one is supposed to give it a completely different flavor.” 

She knew that perfectly well. In the Clone Wars, the army had learned fast the only way to give their rations any flavor was to use all the flavoring options at their disposal in a rations pack. It didn’t necessarily taste good, but at least it was interesting. But of course, being from the past, she wasn’t supposed to know that, so…

“Huh.” She cocked her head at the bowl and then shrugged and reached for a spoon to mix it. “It’s fine. I’ve eaten worse. Being a galactic fugitive taught me not to be picky about meals.” 

She stirred the flavor powder in without another word, very aware that Obi-Wan’s eyes were still on her. She waited for whatever he wanted to say. 

“Are you afraid of the Sith?” 

If Ahsoka had pushed the spoon into the bowl any harder, it would’ve cracked. “I saw them destroy my way of life. What do you think?” 

“And the ones who did that are gone,” Obi-Wan said. 

“And there’s others who are equally capable.”

“The Order beat them before,” Obi-Wan said. “If they come back, we will beat them again. I can promise you that.”

Ahsoka put the spoon down, took a deep breath and met Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Look. I get what you’re trying to do. I appreciate it. I really do. But it’s just not going to help. There’s nothing you can say that will reassure me.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, sounding like he’d just now realized how far out of his depth he was in this conversation.

“Grab that water heater for me, will you?”

Obi-Wan silently handed it to her, and Ahsoka poured the boiling water over her ration bars, watching the food sizzle and rise.

Most days in battle, they hadn’t had the luxury of hot water. Or even just spare water.

Suddenly, she realized how tense she was—every muscle in her body was taut. She rolled her shoulders, trying to relax, and looked over to Obi-Wan.  “I’m sorry for snapping at you.” 

“No, I shouldn’t have pressed the subject,” Obi-Wan said. “I apologize.” 

“I just…” Ahsoka sensed an opportunity here. A chance to nudge Obi-Wan in the direction of… well, she wasn’t sure. Being more alert about the Sith? Doing more to seek them out? She wasn’t sure, but the Force urged her words on. “I thought I woke up in a galaxy without Sith. But then, out of nowhere, the first Sith in apparently a millennium are attacking and carrying out plans none of us understand. That tells me the Order never fully beat the Sith,” she said. “All they did was drive them underground.”

“Drive them underground…” Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, and then he muttered something that sounded like: “I know somebody who could stand to learn a similar lesson.”

“What was that?” Ahsoka said. 

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan said, too quickly. 

Ahsoka raised an eyebrow but didn’t press it. 

“Also, don’t worry about getting in trouble for, er, the kidnapping. Qui-Gon never goes to the Council when he has issues with another Jedi. It’s a matter of principle for him.”

“That’s good.” Ahsoka stirred the rations one last time, and was about to dig in when something about Obi-Wan’s words struck her. That was several times now that he’d called Qui-Gon by his name instead of referring to him as his master, which was a marked change from the first few days of knowing him. Concerning.

She propped her head up on her hands and regarded him carefully. “Something wrong between you and your master?”

Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth like a landed fish before shoving his datapad in his pocket and looking away. “It’s nothing.” 

“Come on, kid. Doesn’t sound like nothing. You asked me an armor-melting question, it’s only fair I get to ask you one in return.” 

“You’re calling me kid? How old are you?” 

Okay, that had slipped out by accident, but she was rolling with it now. It would at least help her stop overestimating Young Obi-Wan’s abilities. “Old enough that I’ve called people your age ‘kid,’” she shot back. Which was true. Kanan Jarrus was a kid in her eyes even if he had a wife and kids of his own. “But I won’t call you kid if you tell me what’s bugging you about your master.” A bargain she had no intention of upholding.

Obi-Wan sighed. “...I suppose it’s hard to say if I can call him my master anymore,” he said, his tone even. “After he declared to the Council that I am ready for the trials and said there is nothing more I can learn from him.”

Ahsoka had suspected as much. “Do you think there’s nothing else he can teach you?” she said.

“Does that matter? Qui-Gon is the one who decides if I’m ready for knighthood.”

“Is that what they teach these days?” Ahsoka said, trying to pump a Worried Old Jedi tone into her voice. 

“Well—” Obi-Wan seemed caught off-guard by the question. 

“Let me rephrase. Do you feel ready for knighthood?” 

Obi-Wan hesitated. That was all Ahsoka needed to hear. 

“Tell him you’re not ready to become a Knight,” she said. “It’s a Master’s duty to make sure their Padawan feels ready to be knighted.” 

And I sure as hell didn’t feel ready to be a Knight when the Council offered it, Ahsoka thought sadly. That’s part of why I left. 

  “When Qui-Gon makes up his mind, it’s not easy to change it,” Obi-Wan said, the faintest tinge of worry creeping into his voice. 

“What’s he made his mind up about? Anakin? I guarantee he won’t get the chance to train Anakin.” 

“Yes, but—” Obi-Wan stopped, apparently sensing the sureness Ahsoka radiated. “You want to train him,” he said in a hushed voice.

“I’m going to train him.”

“I suppose that means…” Obi-Wan sighed. “I still think he might just have me take the trials anyway, and there’s no shame in that. I believe I can pass them as is.”

“I’m confused,” Ahsoka said. “If he can’t train Anakin, you think he doesn’t want you back? That can’t possibly be right.” This was… so different from the Qui-Gon Anakin had told her about. In all of Anakin’s memories, he’d been a kind, wise man who knew how to think for himself and always knew the right thing to say or do. And now she was starting to realize everything Anakin told her was through the lens of a starstruck nine-year-old who’d been rescued by him and knew him for less than a week before he died.

Obi-Wan shook his head violently. “No, no, not at all. It’s not that he doesn’t want me back. It’s almost the opposite of that. He wants me to succeed. He wants me to succeed more than anything. It’s always been like that...” Obi-Wan trailed off. “I guess that’s because of Xanatos.”

Ahsoka blinked. “Who?”

“His second Padawan.”

Qui-Gon had other Padawans before Obi-Wan? That was news to Ahsoka. She waited for Obi-Wan to say more, but nothing came—she sensed a clear reluctance from him to say anything more. 

“Well, if he wants you to succeed so badly, then he should be happy to make sure you feel ready for your trials,” she said finally. 

Obi-Wan’s gloom dissipated, replaced by a thoughtfulness. “I can’t say that’s a conversation I’m excited for, but… I’ll give it a try. Thank you, Master Tano.” He raised an eyebrow. “Although… I think I’ll pass on telling him this was your idea.”

Ahsoka smirked. “Good thinking.” 

With a stomach full of food, sleep finally came to Ahsoka, and she dreamed of sand dunes.

In the time of the Empire, dreams were something she dreaded. They were filled with feverish visions of horror and destruction, pain and suffering, reminders of just what the Empire waged every day. Vader’s brutal visage loomed over everything in her dreams, those empty eyes watching her every move. She didn’t understand why Vader was so prominent in her dreams. Yes, she feared him, but she’d never even seen him with her own eyes. All she had were the holonet images of his few public appearances and terrified rumors.

But Vader was absent from these dreams. Instead, Ahsoka found herself in an endless sandy expanse, reminiscent of the desert she’d first woken up in. The wind whispered over the dunes in a frenzy, sounding like a cacophony of voices just out of reach. She looked around, then skyward. High above her, something circled, so distant it was just a dot. It was the only thing that moved, so she watched it, and slowly it spiraled closer until she could see a shape and colors: a small white bird. No—a convor. 

It fluttered down to the ground and looked up at Ahsoka. She stared. She had the distinct sensation that she’d seen this bird before, but without any idea where or when. 

After a few moments of silence, the convor took off, flying a path straight at the horizon, and as she watched it vanish, the ground beneath her began to shake. 

The tremors were almost like when she’d slayed the krayt dragon, except a thousand times more powerful. When she tried to steady herself, the sand liquefied, pulling her ankles down. Then an immense mass of sand rose out of the ground before her, at first indistinct, then shapes and lines emerging from the sand, until suddenly Ahsoka realized she was seeing herself. The sand had sculpted itself into an immense and unmistakable profile of her. 

It loomed over her as the shaking intensified and she sank even deeper into the sand, and then—

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

Ahsoka sat bolt upright in her bunk, the dream dissipating immediately, her hands drawing her lightsabers on pure reflex, and it took a few seconds to realize someone was knocking on the door. 

“What?!” she said. 

“Tano. We’ve got a situation.” 

Windu. Ahsoka threw open the door. “What happened?”

He turned as soon as she appeared and started down the hall. Over his shoulder, he said:

“Viceroy Gunray is dead.” 

Ahsoka stumbled, and then immediately straightened. Sidious was acting fast. 

“How?” she said, following him into the ship’s comm room. 

Inside, a holocall was in progress, the holo projecting the flickering blue forms of the Jedi Council. Yoda and Obi-Wan were seated already. He nodded to Ahsoka as she entered but remained focused on the call. 

“Master Koon can explain best.”  He inclined his head at one of the holograms. “He was there.” 

Ahsoka whirled to face him, feeling a rush of relief when he showed no sign of being hurt. 

“I was transferring the Viceroy from the prisoner cell to a Judiciary shuttle, which would take him to Coruscant, but en route, we were surrounded by a mob of furious citizens. They were calling for the blood of Gunray. I tried to calm them, and the guards tried to push them back, but they were only becoming angrier.” He paused, his gaze growing distant. “It was then that I sensed the Dark Side.” 

“Someone was urging that mob on, taking advantage of their justified anger and grief and twisting it into uncontrolled, violent rage. I could feel the Dark whispering around them, inflaming their minds beyond reason. We were armed and they were not, but not even violence would have dissuaded them.”

“I tried to counteract the forces acting on the mob, but at the moment I began to concentrate, the mob surged forward. Gunray was snatched from the guards’ hands before any of us could react, and he was swallowed by the mob almost immediately.” 

“To attempt a rescue would’ve meant killing a great number of civilians who were not in their right minds. The only choice I had by then was to evacuate the guards and return alone, which I did. When I returned, Gunray’s body was in the middle of the street, and the mob had dissipated. And there was a lingering trace of the Dark Side which felt almost like a taunt.” 

A grim silence greeted those words. Ahsoka looked around at the Council, taking in expressions of consternation and shock, and realized she was the only one who knew what to do.  

“It was the Sith Master,” she said into the hush. 

The response was not immediate, but a silent ripple spread across the room. 

Windu nodded. “It could not have been anyone else.” 

“Gave us a name, Queen Amidala did. Darth Sidious,” Yoda said,  

Those two words hung heavily in the air.  

Windu shook his head. “He was right under our noses.”

“Speaking of Sith,” Ahsoka said. “Is Maul secure?” She’d already asked Qui-Gon that, but it didn’t hurt to ask again.

Windu nodded. “He is in a cell in the Temple. And that is… entirely thanks to you. As… unorthodox… as your actions were, if you hadn’t done so, he would not be in our custody right now. With how little security we had, there’s no doubt Sidious would’ve found a way to kill his apprentice as well. Likely killing whatever Jedi that stood in his way.” 

There was a cough from someone else on the holocall. Ahsoka turned and was greeted with the sight of a very awkward-looking Qui-Gon. 

“I suppose I owe you an apology, Master Tano,” he said, looking as if he was grinding his teeth between each word. 

“And I’m sorry, too,” Ahsoka said. At Qui-Gon’s look of surprise, she added, “I’m not sorry I did it. But I’m sorry I had to do it that way.” 

Qui-Gon made a grumbling noise. “I can’t argue with that, since I’ve certainly felt that way more than once—I have to ask though, why couldn’t you have taken Maul to Coruscant yourself?” 

Ahsoka shrugged, and then a sequence of words slipped out of her mouth before she could think better of it. “Well, I had a duty to keep watch over my Padawan.” 

“Your Padawan?” Genuine confusion coursed over Qui-Gon’s expression, and then suddenly recognition. “You’re not serious.” 

Ahsoka could almost hear the rest of the Council putting it together. She hadn’t meant for the reckoning to come right now, but it was as good a time as any. 

Saesee Tiin was the first to answer. “We haven’t even made a decision on what to do with him!” 

“You haven’t. I have,” Ahsoka said. “I don’t care what you all say, I’m going to train him. Inside the Order or outside the Order.”

The Council exchanged discomforted looks. Ahsoka held out her hands. “Your choice.”

And then something devious occurred to her. 

“You know, since Sidious is on this planet,” she continued, “And since he’s apparently been closely watching our movements, he’s definitely noticed Anakin. Or at least sensed him. So I’d really prefer if you let me train him in the Order. Because if I train him outside of the Order, he’ll be a young, powerful, inexperienced Force user alone in the galaxy with only one Jedi to protect him. And there’s a Sith Lord on the loose who knows about him and just happens to be in need of a new apprentice.” 

It was almost funny how quickly the disbelief in the room switched to horror, and then resigned acceptance. Force, it had hurt to say that though. She didn’t want to think about Anakin in Sidious’s hands any more than necessary. He’d been friends with Palpatine once—and she was going to make sure that never happened again.

“When you put it in that light…” Windu sighed. He exchanged a look with Yoda. 

“No choice, we have,” Yoda said. “Take young Skywalker as your Padawn Learner with the approval of the Order, you may.” 

Qui-Gon made a spluttering noise, but said nothing. 

A thrill ran through Ahsoka. She’d done it. Somehow. Now for the hard part: actually training him.

Yoda let out a wry chuckle. “Appeared for the first time in a millennium, the Sith have. Now the oldest Padawan Initiate since before the reformations, we will train. Stir up anything else in your wake will you, Master Tano?”

“I hope not.”  

Adi Gallia spoke up. “Is this your first Padawan?”

Ahsoka found the question odder than she probably should’ve. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Usually, when a Knight becomes a Master, they take a Padawan soon afterward. Although, given your circumstances, it’d be quite understandable if—” 

“Hang on. What did—are you calling me a Jedi Master?” 

Gallia raised her eyebrows in honest surprise. “I am. Are you not?”

Her head beginning to spin, Ahsoka spun to the rest of the Council, then Windu and Yoda. “I’m sorry—is that something—do you all think I’m a Master?”

“Tano,” Windu said, speaking slowly. “You do realize that we have been addressing you as Master Tano this entire time, and that’s because, well… We assume that you are.”  

Oops.

“And Master Jinn referred to you as Master Tano when he introduced you,” Depa Billaba added. 

All eyes swung to Qui-Gon’s hologram, who shrugged. “She carried herself like a Master. She killed a krayt dragon. What was I supposed to think?”

“And you did not object to being called a Master,” Billaba said to Ahsoka.

Double oops. “I had more pressing concerns at the time than what you were calling me!” Ahsoka said. “And I just assumed it was common courtesy!” 

“The common courtesy when you don’t know a Jedi’s rank is to ask how to address them,” Oppo Rancisis said. “We didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ahsoka said. She’d realized a long time ago that being taught by Anakin Skywalker The Social Disaster meant she missed out on learning a lot of Jedi customs and traditions. Which became a lot more painful after the entire history of the Jedi was wiped out. 

“Tano,” Windu said. “What was your rank in the Jedi Order?”

Ahsoka’s chest tightened slightly. This was a question she shouldn’t have to be afraid of. There was no shame in what she was about to admit, and yet… 

She took a deep breath. “I was a Padawan.”

Dead silence fell over the Council. A flurry of glances were exchanged between its various members, disbelief obvious in some of their expressions. Ahsoka inevitably found herself checking Plo’s reaction, and the shock twisting his expression was a distinctly different shock than the rest of the Council. He met Ahsoka’s eyes, and his gaze held a thousand questions. 

“A Padawan?” Ki-Adi Mundi said. 

“I wasn’t knighted before the Order was massacred,” she said. “After the fall of Coruscant, my Master was dead, so I didn’t really have that chance anymore. So I guess I’m still a Padawan,” she said. She offered a weak smile. “Galaxy’s oldest Padawan, reporting for duty.”

The joke could not have fallen more flat. The Council was still performing some internal communication, its members clearly working through some unknown ramifications of what she was saying. Ahsoka did not try to speak again.

“A Padawan did all this,” Oppo Rancisis said, dazed. 

“Hmph! Hardly a Padawan, she is!” came a new voice, and Ahsoka had to turn to see the source. For a moment she wondered why does Yoda have a hologram when he’s right here and then remembered—no, this was Yaddle. A Jedi she hadn’t thought about for a long time. Once upon a time, she’d always had a kind word and a piece of candy for any Younglings she crossed paths with, and once Ahsoka had even stolen her stick in a fit of mischief—one of her earliest non-Plo-related memories. And then, when she was nine or ten, Yaddle died on a mission, a mission Anakin had apparently been on, although he never talked about it. Yaddle hadn’t said anything during Ahsoka’s two previous meetings with the Council, which was why she was only noticing her now. 

“Promote her in my style, we should,” Yaddle added. The suggestion was met with a murmur from the surrounding masters, and Ahsoka, who honestly had no idea of Yaddle’s history, sensed this was no small proposal.

“You had a hundred years. Tano has only had a fraction of that,” Yarael Poof grumbled. 

“Or many times that, depending on your measure,” Yoda said with a chuckle. 

Obi-Wan leaned over to her. “Master Yaddle was held hostage on a planet for a century as a Padawan after losing her Master,” he whispered. “When she defeated her captors and returned to the Order, she was promoted directly to Master.” 

Ahsoka honestly had no idea how to react to this knowledge. 

“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting you to be the same rank as me,” he added with a wry smile. “You have no right to call me ‘kid.’”

“All you have to do is watch your entire world collapse around you and spend at least a decade afterward trying to find meaning in your life!” she said brightly. Probably too brightly. 

“...Right.” Obi-Wan gave a single nod and quickly turned back to the Council’s discussion. They were voting on something. What were they voting on—

Seven hands raised in favor, Windu, Yoda, Plo, and Yaddle among them. Five raised not in favor. 

“It is decided,” Windu said.

What was decided?

“Ahsoka Tano, if you so desire, we would take the very rare and mostly unprecedented step of… promoting you directly to masterhood.” 

What. 

Ahsoka resisted the urge to break into crazed laughter. She would be missing out on her knighting. The knighting she’d walked away from and wondered ever since if it was the right choice. Of course it had been—it’d probably saved her life—but she’d always wonder, what if she stayed, what if she’d been there when—and even aside from that. Knighthood had been an insult to her once, a poor apology for a horrific ordeal. She’d never had the chance for a knighthood she could take pride in. And now she was being offered the option to just… skip over it entirely. 

She didn’t like that. 

Masterhood wasn’t even half as important to her as that wound the offer of knighthood had left in her, and… she couldn’t just leave it. 

“Tano?” Windu said, and Ahsoka realized the room had been waiting for her response for some time. 

“No,” she said. 

Windu furrowed his brow. “No?” 

“I want to be a Jedi Knight. It was something I never had the chance to be.” 

“Attachment to a title, some might call that,” Yoda said. 

“I call it closure,” Ahsoka said. “Picking up where I left off.” 

That pleased Yoda. Some looked surprised with her decision, but the five Council members that’d voted against masterhood looked satisfied. 

“I don’t think we need to vote on this, but—all in favor of knighthood for Ahsoka Tano?” Windu said. 

Twelve hands raised. A unanimous decision. 

“The Council congratulates you, Knight Tano,” Mace Windu said with a genuine smile. “We will knight you when we return to the Temple. Normally, your Master would do this, but since they’re no longer with us, you can choose who will knight you. Do you have anyone in mind?” 

“Yes,” Ahsoka said, and looked directly at Plo. 

Ahsoka had been standing outside Shmi and Anakin’s room for the last five minutes, working up the courage to knock. There was no going back now. Well, there had been no going back the minute she told Shmi she was training him, but now there was really no going back. Still, never too late for a last-minute crisis. 

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing Shmi. 

“Um, hi.” Ahsoka blinked, wondering if she’d somehow knocked without realizing it.

“It’s okay to be nervous about this, you know,” Shmi said, gesturing for her to enter. “It’s not easy to take on an apprentice of any kind. On Tatooine, the guilds always treated the bond between teacher and learner with the utmost seriousness.”

Caught off-balance by how ready Shmi seemed, Ahsoka took a centering breath and walked in and sat down gingerly on a footstool. “I am a little jittery, yeah.” Anakin was asleep on one of the bunks, drooling all over a pillow.

Shmi considered her for a moment. “You’ve convinced the Jedi Order to accept him.” 

“I—Yes. How did you know that?” 

“Intuition.” 

Ahsoka gave Shmi a long look, and decided it was finally time to think in-depth about what was going on here.

Shmi folded her hands neatly and sat down next to Anakin. “I knew it the same way I know you will be a good teacher.” 

“You don’t know anything about me,” Ahsoka said.

“I know that you stand up for what you believe in. I know that you try to correct injustice where you see it. I know that you defended my son’s personhood in front of the Jedi Order.” 

“I… have things that I’m hiding,” Ahsoka said weakly. “Things I can’t say. Yet.” 

“Everyone has something to hide. Most of the time, it does not prevent them from being a good person, and I think that is true for you.” 

“I…” Ahsoka trailed off and then decided to surrender. “You sure know how to win an argument.” 

“I wasn’t aware we were arguing,” Shmi said. 

“Hm.” 

A small vibration resonated through the ship, and an almost imperceptible thrumming reached Ahsoka's ears. They were lifting off, returning to Coruscant and an unknown future.

Shmi brushed a strand of hair away from Anakin’s face, and then spoke again, quietly. “There is one thing I do not know. What will happen to me?” 

“Sorry?” 

“Will the Order provide any assistance to me?”

“I… don’t know,” Ahsoka said. “It’s not like this is something they have plans for. I don’t know why they wouldn’t help you, and if they don’t help you, I’ll help you. Or I’ll make them help you.” She paused, thinking. “What do you want to do?” 

Shmi’s reply was slow. “I don’t know yet. I never devoted much time to thinking about what I’d do with freedom. Slaves learned quickly not to waste away their personal time on impossible dreams.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka said. She didn’t know how to respond to that. 

“Will I still be allowed to see him?”

“I don’t know,” Ahsoka said yet again. “I’m guessing they wouldn’t, but you’re a special case. I… I’ll figure something out.” Planning ahead wasn’t her strong suit. She couldn’t ask the Jedi in advance to let Shmi stay in contact with Anakin. What she could do was figure out a way for Shmi to see Anakin in secret when the Council inevitably tried to block off contact between them. 

“Allowed or not, I will stay in contact with him,” Shmi said, radiating certainty. 

“I’ll make sure it’s allowed,” Ahsoka said. 

She considered Shmi, really considered her. Every aspect of her Force-presence, how quiet and muted it was, how oddly quiet and muted it was, how even despite its inertia it still interacted with Anakin’s, with the room around them, even with hers a little bit.

“You’re Force-sensitive,” she said. 

There was no visible reaction in Shmi’s expression or body language.

“I suppose that is what it should be called,” she said finally. “It was easy to see Anakin’s special abilities from a very young age because it was not unlike what I can do, and that made it all the easier to help him hide it.” 

She straightened, and suddenly there was the sensation of something unfurling in the Force, like a long-tightened muscle finally relaxing, and Shmi’s Force-presence was no longer quiet and muted because she was no longer shielding herself.

“I suppose, like him, I don’t have to hide it anymore.” Shmi looked around as if taking in her surroundings for the first time. “This is what freedom is. The ability to be seen as what I am.” 

Coruscant

The Council chamber was completely darkened. The only illumination came from the lightsabers of each member of the Council as they stood in a circle around Ahsoka. In front of her was Master Plo, his blade raised level with his face as he spoke the ancient rites of Knighthood. 

Ahsoka was on one knee. From one of her headtails, a Padawan braid dangled. It was a feeling familiar and disconcerting all at the same time. She had only worn these beads for a small fraction of her life, and yet the feeling of the beads gently brushing against her skin was burned into her memory. As was the memory of them being ripped away. 

Now they were back, but only for a few moments. 

Ahsoka had spent the previous night reconstructing her Padawan braid from memory, trying to remember the smallest detail of every bead and knot. She had added three new beads to the end, though. 

On the first bead, she’d etched her Fulcrum callsign emerging from a flame—surviving the tribunal, surviving the Purge, and emerging from it hardened and dangerous. On the second bead, she’d put the symbol of the Empire, with an arrow piercing it—to remember her resistance of the Empire, and remind herself to do everything she could to prevent its rise. On the third bead, she’d painted an ouroboros—the strange restart that she’d found herself in, her past, present and future all tangled up in one another now. 

Plo lowered his blade. 

“By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, I name thee Jedi, Knight of the Republic,” he intoned.

The humming of the blade changed its pitch as it flashed by Ahsoka’s head, and for the second time in her life she felt the sensation of her braid falling away, but now in a much gentler manner.

She was a Jedi Knight. 

She lifted her head and met Plo’s eyes. In them, she saw something unexpected: pride.

She was expecting worry in his eyes—worry for the future that had formed her into what she was. Was Plo feeling pride because the little girl he’d promised to help was standing before him, now a Jedi Knight? Or was it because she’d chosen him to knight her? Maybe it was both. 

“You may rise,” Plo said.

Ahsoka stood, and a strange feeling flooded her. Grief? Longing? She wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, she felt filled to bursting with it. 

The Council extinguished their sabers, the windows became clear again, and light flooded the chamber. 

“Welcome back to the Jedi Order, Knight Tano,” Windu said.

“Long and strange, your journey has been,” Yoda said. “But only just beginning, it is.” 

You don’t know the half of it, Ahsoka thought.

Windu tapped his comm, and the chamber doors opened to where Anakin and Shmi had been waiting outside. They entered the chamber, Shmi with a protective hand on Anakin’s shoulder as always.

“And now we can finalize your Master-Padawan training bond,” Windu said.

“About that,” Ahsoka said. 

She had the distinct sensation that every set of eyebrows in the chamber had just shot upwards. 

“Is something wrong, Knight Tano?” Windu said. 

This was a ridiculous idea, one she’d only thought of over the last day. She was already breaking enough rules. But really, why not break a few more, then? Adult Anakin would’ve loved this idea. Kid Anakin was going to love it, too.

“Not at all.” Ahsoka was fighting to keep a smile off her face. “I just wanted to inform you all of a slight change in plans. I am going to take a second Padawan Learner. In addition to Anakin, I will also be training Shmi Skywalker.” 

In what was becoming quite habitual for Ahsoka, she’d stunned the Council into silence again. She turned to Shmi and Anakin. Anakin looked like he’d just won the Boonta Eve Podrace all over again. Meeting Shmi’s eyes, she saw nothing but immense surprise. 

She offered Shmi a genuine smile. It probably would’ve been a good idea to tell her in advance, but now they were even.

Chapter Text

If Ahsoka had thought she’d seen the Jedi Council arguing before, that was nothing compared to this. 

“Two Padawans—?”

“An adult—?”

“His mother—?!”  

“Attachment—”

“Unprecedented—”

Instead of waiting out the barrage of words, she simply turned and headed for the exit, nudging Shmi on her way out. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” 

Shmi cast a glance backward as she and Anakin followed her out. “Does that mean they won’t approve of this?” 

Ahsoka hit the button for the turbolift. “They don’t have a choice.” 

“They were even more opposed to this idea than when I suggested you train my son.” 

Ahsoka shrugged. “Did you need their approval then?” 

Shmi tilted her head, smiling slightly. “Very true.” 

They waited for the turbolift in silence. Anakin was shifting from foot to foot, staring up at both of them with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. Which, yeah, that was understandable. 

“—Do you want to be trained?” Ahsoka said to Shmi.

“Yes,” Shmi said evenly. “It would certainly give me something to do next. And now I know I won’t be separated from my son. And…” She trailed off, lost in thought. “I can learn what I need to make others free. You truly think the Order will accept my apprenticeship?”

“They might not be accepting it right now, but they will.” Ahsoka began counting off on her fingers. “One, they know I grew up in an Order with adult initiates, and all those initiates were fine. You’ll be fine. Two, they’ll figure out it would be worse for Anakin’s attachment if he was completely separated from his mother after you raised him for nine years of his life. He’s such a unique case that the Council can’t just make one exception and then expect him to fit in with all the other requirements he’s got. Three, his training will go a lot more smoothly if the person he trusts most is training alongside him. Four… They already know I’m not taking no for an answer. Either I train you both in the Order, or we take our chances in the greater galaxy. And they don’t want the second option.”

“Correct on all counts, Master Tano.” 

Ahsoka almost jumped at the new voice, and realized Windu and Yoda were behind them. Windu was rubbing his forehead, and Yoda was leaning on his cane, watching her with… that was the slightest hint of a smile, wasn’t it? How long had they been there? 

“You’ve done a remarkable job of anticipating the Council’s conclusions,” Windu said. 

“Oh, reached a verdict, have you?” Ahsoka said, crossing her arms and leveling a resolute stare at Yoda. 

Yoda looked at Shmi. Then at Ahsoka. Then at Anakin. Then back to Ahsoka. Finally, he chuckled. 

“Train them both, you may. No objections, I have. Obstruct you, the Council will not.” 

In spite of her unyielding attitude, Ahsoka’s mouth nearly fell open. Was it that easy?   

“Trust your method, I do.”

Those were words she never, ever would’ve expected to hear from Yoda. She almost wanted to blurt out one time I tried to steal your walking stick on a dare just to see if he’d still think highly of her. 

Yoda turned to Shmi and gave her a careful look. “Wish to be Padawan Learner to Knight Tano, do you?” 

Shmi nodded, her single-word answer unhesitant and clear. “Yes.” 

“Settled, it is,” Yoda said, his words ringing with finality. “Dismiss the Council, I will.” 

Ahsoka looked over Windu’s shoulder to the Council chamber. She wondered how many Masters still disagreed, but—Yoda’s word was pretty much final.

Windu was doing the thing again where he seemed to be looking at her yet looking at something else entirely. “...I still don’t understand you, Knight Tano. But you saved a city. That, at least, is easy to understand.” 

“Thanks?” Ahsoka said. 

“Understand Tano either, I do not,” Yoda said. Then he turned to Ahsoka. “Many questions, I have. But wait for answers, I must.” Then he raised his cane, poking Ahsoka in the knee. He narrowed his eyes, and suddenly his voice was grave and echoing in her ears with a whisper of immense Force power. “Betray my trust, you must not.” 

Ahsoka swallowed hard. “You have my word, Master Yoda.” She wasn’t used to having this much trust. 

With that, Yoda hobbled back into the Council chambers. There was silence for a moment, and then Windu spoke again. “Welcome to knighthood indeed, Tano. Do you plan on making us question the core tenets of our Order every day?” 

“Yes.” 

Windu went back to rubbing his forehead. “I shouldn’t have asked.” His eyes flicked to Shmi and Anakin. “Can we discuss your… Padawans?” 

Ahsoka could hear how strange that plural form sounded coming off his tongue. “What’s there to discuss?” 

“Logistics, mainly. Their situations could not be more unique. You’ll need to meet with one of the Temple schoolmasters to figure out how their education will work. And living quarters—most of our rooms in the Temple are set up for one or two people; you should talk to the Quartermaster to find a suite. And I’ll put you in touch with Jocasta Nu, our Chief Librarian—she can give you the materials you need to catch up on galactic history, and also learn about the modern methods of training a Padawan.”

“Oh. Good point.” Ahsoka began making a mental to-do list, and then slowed halfway through as she realized that most of these kind of conflicted with trying to save the galaxy. “That’s… a lot I’m going to have to do.” 

Windu gave her half-smile. “Welcome to the discovery that training a Padawan is not all bringing them on life-or-death missions.” 

Ahsoka nodded slowly. A slight problem: Anakin’s training of her had consisted entirely of bringing her on life-or-death missions.

“I’ll try to remember that,” she said. 

Since they did need a place to sleep, their first destination was the Quartermaster. As they walked through the Temple, Anakin took in their surroundings with endless amazement, his eyes wider than moons.

“So when do we go on life-or-death missions?” Anakin said, his voice full of glee. 

“Not yet,” Ahsoka said.

Anakin’s face scrunched up in disappointment, but only briefly. “Okay, I need to learn fighting first.”

“Not yet either.” 

“When do I start? Tomorrow?”

“Too soon.” 

“Next week?”

“Think longer than that.” 

“Next month?” 

Shmi laughed. 

Ahsoka resisted the simultaneous urge to sigh heavily and pat him on the head. “Anakin, when I was growing up in the Temple, it took me years of classes and training before I got to hold a lightsaber.”

Anakin pouted. “I’m old enough for one. I promise I won’t cut anything in half.” 

“I think—” Ahsoka cocked her head, listening to a distant sound rapidly coming closer. “—Is somebody shouting?”

“Out of the way! Out of the way! Clear the area immediately!” 

She turned just in time for a bizarre sight to round the corner: A blue-skinned Twi’lek wearing a bio-containment suit, leading two humans also wearing bio-containment suits, carting an empty stretcher, plowing through a group of Jedi and heading straight for her. 

“Are you Ahsoka Tano?” the Twi’lek called out as she approached. 

It took Ahsoka a few seconds to realize she was looking at Vokara Che, the head Temple healer, and she looked like she meant business. 

“Yes?” she said. 

As a reply, Vokara thrust a gas mask onto her face. 

“What—” Ahsoka said, her voice muffled by the mask as Vokara rapidly secured the straps. 

“I just got word that you’re a Jedi who’s somehow traveled in time from thousands of years in the past—” 

“What—”

“—And I don’t care how or why that happened. The only thing I’m worried about is making sure you don’t die! And it’s a miracle that hasn’t happened already! You have absolutely no natural immunity to any of the pathogens that have developed over the last three millennia! We’re putting you in quarantine until you’ve gotten a full round of vaccinations and you’ve been tested for every disease in the archives!”

Ahsoka was so taken off-guard that she didn’t even think to resist as Vokara and her two assistants lifted her up and into the stretcher, and by the time her brain caught up with what was happening, Vokara was activating some sort of shield around the stretcher, effectively sealing her inside a bubble. 

And it wasn’t like she could disagree with this without blowing her cover. Was it dangerous to get a bunch of vaccinations she’d had already?

“Excuse me,” Shmi started to say, but Vokara cut her off.  

“I’m sorry, ma’am, But unless you’re also from the past, you won’t be allowed to come into contact with her for the next several days.”

Shmi nodded. “I understand, but we were accompanying her to get a room assignment. We have no idea where to go without her.” 

Vokara gave Shmi a closer look. “You’re Outer Rim, aren’t you? Have you been offworld before?”

“No,” Shmi said, her tone becoming slightly guarded. 

“You’ll need vaccinations, too, then—not as much as her, though. Follow us to the healing wing. We’ll get you those, and a basic medical examination while we’re at it. And then we’ll find someone to help you out. Sound good?” 

Shmi nodded.

“Alright. Let’s get a move on,” Vokara said to one of her assistants. “Do you have any symptoms currently?” she said to Ahsoka. 

“No,” Ahsoka said truthfully. “Master, can I—”

“Master Che!”

Ahsoka recognized Plo’s voice instantly and twisted her head just in time to see him run up to them, clutching a datapad in his hand. “She’s been vaccinated already.” 

Vokara stared. “All of it?” 

“We stopped at a medstation on our way back to Coruscant, and she received everything. Which is not an exaggeration in the slightest.” He pressed the datapad into her hands. “This is the certification. I apologize for not getting it to you sooner, but I didn’t think you would receive the news about her so soon.”

“News travels fast in the Order, Master Koon.” Vokara inspected the datapad and then nodded. “Well… That’s all in order, then. Crisis averted.” She pushed a button on the side of the stretcher, and the shield dissipated. “Apologies for that, Knight Tano, but with a case like yours, I wasn’t going to risk anything. I still want you to come in for a full medical examination. Preferably soon.” 

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” Ahsoka silently resolved to avoid the healing wing as much as possible. Of all the people in the Temple who might notice the link between Ahsoka and Baby Ahsoka, the healers were one of the most likely to do so.

“You two should still come with me now,” Vokara said, nodding to Shmi and Anakin. “You’re not in actual danger like she was, but the sooner you get those shots, the better.”

Shmi looked at Ahsoka questioningly. 

“You go on ahead,” Ahsoka said, pulling off the gas mask. “I’ll meet you outside the healers’ wing. I want to talk to Plo for a second.” 

“Excellent; I wanted to talk to you too,” Plo said. 

Shmi nodded, and followed Vokara and the healers down the hall with Anakin in tow. 

As soon as they were gone, Plo spun to Ahsoka. “You were a Padawan,” he whispered, his tone full of horror. “You were still a Padawan when the galaxy crumbled.”

Ahsoka nodded. 

“That means…”   

Ahsoka finished the thought for him. “There’s even less time between us and disaster than you thought.”

“How?”

It would be so simple to tell him. But even as Ahsoka considered just saying aloud, Palpatine is the Sith Lord, the Force whispered it was a terrible idea. If they knew now, the Jedi would act too quickly, spring a trap that was too poorly planned, and that would bring disaster. They did not yet understand just how deeply the Dark Side had sunk into every recess of the Republic—the Clone Wars had only brought all that darkness to the forefront. In some ways Palpatine was only one of many things that had to be stopped to prevent the rise of the Empire. The Republic itself was one strong push away from becoming a fascist state, and she suspected the Jedi killing or arresting a popular sitting chancellor could be that exact push. Or worse, dissolve the galaxy into a structureless chaos.

“If you’re still asking that, I still can’t tell you,” she said at last. 

Plo hummed sadly. “I suspected.”

“The next time something big and bad happens, don’t be satisfied with what looks like the answers for it. Keep digging. Because I can guarantee the Sith are doing more than you think. What do you think they were able to do while they were in hiding for the past thousand years?”

“I have no idea.”

Ahsoka nodded. “Exactly.”

“...I see what you mean.”

“Good.” 

“You wanted to ask me something, too?” Plo said. 

“Oh. Right.” Ahsoka crossed her arms, looking back in the direction Vokara had come from. “She knows I’m—Does the whole Order know I’m from the past now?”

“Better that than knowing you’re from the future.”

“Fair.” 

“Is there nothing I can do to help you?”

“Actually, yes,” Ahsoka said. “I want to talk to Maul.”

Ahsoka had never seen this part of the Temple before. Which, considering how high-security a prisoner was being kept here, was a good thing. 

Maul sat in a far corner of the cell, and he glared at the one-way window which Ahsoka was looking through, his eyes completely unblinking and his body still as stone. 

“Any luck?” Ahsoka said, knowing full well what the answer would be.

Plo shook his head. “Nothing yet. He hasn’t said a word since he woke up. We had Quinlan Vos, one of our Jedi Knights, take a look at his lightsaber. Vos has the power of psychometry—letting him sense memories through inanimate objects by simply touching them—and we hoped he’d be able to learn of the Sith’s past, but he simply could not learn anything from the lightsaber—he said it was too shrouded in darkness to sense a single thing, and just trying to probe it for too long caused him physical pain.”

Ahsoka grimaced. “Figures.” She watched Maul for a bit longer. “I want to talk to him.” 

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“He seems to hate me so much that he doesn’t want to stop telling me how much he’s going to kill me. Maybe I can get something out of that.” 

Plo considered it for a moment. “...That’s fair enough.” He raised his comm and spoke quietly into it. After a quick response, he nodded. “The guards will open the door for you in a minute.”

“Fantastic.” 

Plo was giving her a careful look out of the corner of his eye. “Did you fight him in your time?”

“I waged a whole planetary campaign against him.”

Plo physically couldn’t drop his jaw to signify surprise like a lot of humanoids could, but Ahsoka got the feeling that if he had that ability, he’d be dropping his jaw right now. “As a Padawan?” 

Well, technically, she hadn’t been a Padawan by then, but… The real answer was even worse. Maybe this wasn’t the best line of conversation to go down. “Long story,” she said finally. 

“Can you at least say which planet?” 

Ahsoka wondered if this information could be dangerous in any sort of way, and decided it wasn’t. “Mandalore.”

Silence. She could feel Plo struggling to make any sense of that information, which was what she’d hoped for—the more she could change his worldview, the sooner she could tell him everything. 

“Mandalore has embraced a peaceful future,” Plo said at last. “Its leadership is pledging neutrality in all future conflicts.” 

“Yeah, and there’s a lot of people who don’t like that peace.” 

“...I can certainly understand that,” Plo said. “So Mandalore plays an integral part in… in the catastrophe that came to pass?” 

Ahsoka thought about it, and shrugged. “You know, funny thing, it wasn’t really that important. Everything would’ve fallen with or without it. It was sort of just… caught in the crossfire.”

At the moment she finished her sentence, the cell door whooshed open, leaving nothing but a ray shield between them and Maul. Ahsoka stepped into the cell, feeling Plo’s eyes on her the whole time, and hoped he’d do something smart with that information. 

As soon as Maul saw her, a sneer crept across his lips. 

Ahsoka leaned against the shield, giving him a casual look. “Viceroy Gunray is dead.” 

No response. 

“Your master killed him. The same fate awaits you. Unless you give us a reason to protect you.”

“I am far more valuable than that sniveling coward,” Maul said evenly. “My master will come for me.” 

“You sure about that? He probably wants an apprentice who won’t lose a fight,” Ahsoka said. 

“Fool,” Maul snapped. “You were only lucky. Four of the Jedi’s finest masters could not defeat me.” 

“But I did.” 

“Luck.” 

“I must have the best luck in the galaxy, since you’re sitting in a cell with no rescue coming and also no hands.”

“You insignificant whelp. You may not realize this, but your ultimate defeat is already assured. It is only a matter of time. Your precious Republic is being undermined as we speak. I will endure this trial, and then I will be the victor.” 

Ahsoka looked back at Plo, giving him a meaningful look to make sure he was taking note of those words (he was), and then turned back to Maul, grinning. This was going exactly as she’d hoped.

“Hey, I’d fight you again,” she said. “Wouldn’t be much of a fight this time, though—I think I’d want to go for your legs next, since you need a little cutting down to size.” 

“It is laughable that you think you can unnerve me with threatening words.” 

“And then I’d fight you again. And again. And again. And I’d win every time. And maybe somewhere along the way, you’ll learn that you shouldn’t be afraid of me. It’s your master you should fear. Because unlike me, your master will not let you live.” 

“I am not afraid of you, Jedi,” Maul said, and although he showed absolutely no sign of any emotion physically or in the Force, Ahsoka knew that would get to him.

“So why are you trying so hard to scare me, if you’re not scared?” 

“I do not want to scare you. I want to destroy you. I will make it the sole object of my existence to hunt you down. And I want you to know I am coming. I want your false sense of security to be completely and utterly shattered. I will make your pitiful existence a living hell. I will show you what the Sith are truly capable of.”

Oh dear goddess, Ahsoka thought. I really am his new Obi-Wan. 

“This would be a lot more intimidating if you weren’t saying it from the wrong side of a ray shield.” 

“It is not only you who is the object of my hate. I will make it my mission to seek out and destroy everyone you cherish.” 

“Well, nobody in the galaxy knows who I am, so good luck with that,” Ahsoka said. 

That… maybe wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but then—for the briefest of seconds, a different emotion rolled off Maul, and then it disappeared so fast Ahsoka briefly thought it hadn’t even been there at all—but she was pretty sure that was confusion she’d just registered.

Now he was looking at her with a strangely… thoughtful expression. For the first time, Ahsoka felt some trepidation, because this wasn’t ever an expression she’d seen Maul make before. 

“You are not a Jedi,” he said finally. 

“What?” Immediately Ahsoka regretted that reply slipping out, because suddenly Maul sensed that he had an edge. Which, he did, because that sentence struck right at the heart of too many insecurities. Long ago—or long ahead, maybe—when she’d been about to fight the Sixth Brother on Raada, he’d taunted her with something similar, saying I told Kaeden that you weren’t a real Jedi. Of course, she’d been able to laugh it off in the moment because she killed him minutes later, but—those words stuck with her in the worst way. She was a Jedi. Was she a Jedi? She felt like a Jedi. Did she feel like a Jedi? She wanted to be a Jedi. Did she want to be a Jedi? 

“I had a suspicion from the moment you defeated me,” Maul said, smugness flooding his voice. “No true Jedi could defeat me.” 

Windu and Yoda had told Ahsoka how different she felt to them. Maybe the rise of the Empire had twisted her into something incompatible with the Jedi. After all, Cassian Andor, fellow agent of the rebellion, had told her once: “Surviving doesn’t make you a better person. It just makes you a survivor.”

She’d done horrible things to survive. Like murdering her own soldiers when they were turned against her. Watching atrocities happen and forcing herself not to act or even react. Killing in cold blood in the name of maintaining secrecy. Acts of sabotage that were probably closer to terrorism than to civic resistance. Things that no Jedi would do, things that she’d accepted she would have to do to stay alive and bring down the Empire. 

Well, if Maul thought she wasn’t a Jedi, she could work with that. There were plenty of times when she didn’t feel like one, either. 

She leaned forward. “You’re close.”

And now it was Maul’s turn to say, “What?”

Ahsoka smirked. “I am different from the other Jedi,” she said. “But not in the way you think. I went through things that no Jedi can imagine.” At least, no Jedi from this time. “Things not even you could imagine.”

Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned and left the cell. The door shut behind her as soon as she departed, cutting off all trace of Maul’s Force presence—but the last thing she sensed was surprise. Good. 

Plo was waiting for her. “Your interrogating skills are… unorthodox.” 

Ahsoka knew he was trying to be polite. “Thanks.” It wasn’t the Clone Wars that’d given her those interrogation skills. It was the Empire. 

She knew Plo heard every word of that conversation. She could sense many questions on the tip of his vocorder. But that wasn’t what she wanted to do right now. She wanted to go find Shmi and Anakin, and also a change of clothes and a comfortable bed. And a few hours to meditate. 

“Can we talk about this some other time?” she said. “I’m tired.” 

Plo nodded slowly. “Could I meet you in the Room of a Thousand Fountains tomorrow morning?” Seeing the look on Ahsoka’s face, he added quickly, “Not to discuss this. I want to show you something.” 

Ahsoka raised a brow, but there was something… anticipatory in Plo’s tone.

“And here’s the room code. Need anything else?” 

The Iktochi clerk from the quartermaster’s office handed Ahsoka a sheet of flimsi, and she looked it over, memorizing the passcode before handing it back. Meanwhile, Anakin dashed into their new quarters, letting out shouts of glee as he peered into cabinets and behind furniture.

“Nope,” Ahsoka said. 

The clerk’s eyes flicked back and forth between the three of them, watching Shmi methodically unpacking. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but… is it true?”

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” Ahsoka said, and she wasn’t even joking. She didn’t know if this clerk was referring to two Padawans, or two Padawans far beyond the age limit, or maybe even Anakin being the Chosen One—

“They’re saying in the halls of healing that there’s a new Togruta Jedi who’s come out of the past,” the clerk said, folding and unfolding her hands. 

—Or that. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, and then fixed her best Disapproving Elder Jedi look on the clerk. She didn’t look much older than Ahsoka had been when she left the Order—probably still a Padawan. “Don’t you know better than to ask personal questions like that?” 

“Right. Sorry.” The clerk turned away, tapping at her datapad. 

Keeping an air of mystery and deflecting every question was probably the best way for Ahsoka to go about this. There would always be rumors, so neither confirming nor denying would probably keep them at their quietest. 

It had occurred to her more than once that word of a Jedi from the past could very well reach Sidious.

“Oh, by the way—” The clerk turned around again. “There was a delivery for you, so I had it routed into your room. It should be there already.” 

“A delivery?” Ahsoka’s instinctive reaction was suspicion. “From where?” 

“The Queen of Naboo.” 

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” At a loss for what Padmé could’ve sent, Ahsoka turned and entered the room. Only to stop short as she saw a strangely familiar droid head sitting on a bookshelf. With only bare wires and metal and none of its gold plating, it took her a moment to recognize it.

“What…?” she said, staring at the disembodied head of C-3PO.

Shmi looked up. “Oh, that’s one of Ani’s droid projects. He was building him to help me out around the shop, but now… Well, he couldn’t bear to leave behind someone he’d worked on for so long.” 

“Now I can finish him!” Anakin said, bounding out of one of the bedrooms. “And I won’t even have to use scrap! I bet there’s lots of great spare parts around here. Here, you can say hi to him!” He reached up and flicked a switch on Threepio’s neck, and his photoreceptors lit up. An extremely familiar voice greeted Ahsoka.

“Hello. I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. How might I serve you?” 

Slowly getting over the strangeness of yet another friend looking nothing like she remembered, Ahsoka nodded hello. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ahsoka Tano.” 

“It is a pleasure! I—Oh, good heavens, where is the rest of my body?!”

“Sorry, Threepio,” Anakin said, rubbing his neck. “There wasn’t room on the ship to bring your whole body along…” 

“What ship? Where are we?” The unconnected servos in Threepio’s head whirred rapidly, and Ahsoka had the sense that he would be looking around wildly if he could move. “Oh—are those droid parts in the next room meant for me? Thank heavens!” 

Anakin’s eyebrows went up. “What droid parts?”

“My sensors detect other droid parts in the vicinity, although I cannot ascertain if they belong to another droid or—Oh, it’s another droid. Pleasure to meet you! I am—”

Ahsoka turned just in time to see R2-D2 trundle into the room. Rolling up to Ahsoka, he chirped and activated his holoprojector. A miniature image of Padmé sprang to life, sitting on her throne, her hands clasped together.

“Ahsoka Tano. As a token of my gratitude for what you have done for Naboo, I give you this droid, who has served me well and will doubtlessly continue to do so for you. You will also be able to contact me at any time through him. I would like to speak to you again at some point in the future. This is a secure channel.” 

The message clicked off, and Ahsoka blinked. She would be sharing a room with Artoo, Threepio, and Anakin in the Jedi Temple for the foreseeable future—something that she’d done many times before, and then afterward wished many, many times to experience again. Now her wish was granted, in the strangest way possible.

“Looks like we’re working together again, Artoo,” she said, reaching out with a smile and patting his head. It also didn’t escape her attention that Padmé wanted to talk again, and she would be taking up that offer soon. 

Artoo blipped happily and then turned to Threepio, letting out a derisive chirp. 

“What do you mean, I’ve lost my head?” Threepio said, his voice crackling. “No, it’s quite the contrary! I’ve lost my body!”  

“Hmmm…” Anakin looked back and forth between the two droids. “I could attach you two together!”

“No,” Ahsoka said immediately. 

As tired as Ahsoka was, she was completely unsurprised when she couldn’t sleep. When she laid down and closed her eyes, the Force began to whirl ceaselessly amongst her thoughts. She sensed the lives of so many Jedi in the Temple, and she couldn’t tune them out. Maybe it was because she was unaccustomed (and would be for a long time) to the vibrance of the Temple. Or maybe it was because some small part of her would never again let go of the beautiful sensation of so many Jedi in the Force. She’d already lost that sensation once. 

Naturally, meditation was out of the question, so she went to her Plan B for sleeplessness: lightsaber katas. Which was how she ended up in the training salles at one in the morning, Coruscant time. 

She was alone—exactly what she wanted. There was no need to turn on the lights, so she drew her blades and contemplated the hilts for a moment before igniting them, the brilliant white light illuminating a pitch-black room and throwing eerie shadows everywhere. 

She settled into a rhythm quickly, striking out at the blackness and defending against empty air, letting the Force flow through her limbs and cushion her movements. Her style, a strange combination of what she’d learned from Anakin, Plo, and Obi-Wan and what she’d learned after the Purge, would’ve looked quite odd to anyone watching. Some sabermasters compared the various lightsaber styles to different animals, whether that might be the rancor or the akul or the keeradak. But if Ahsoka’s style could be compared to an animal, it didn’t matter which animal—only that her style was that of a cornered animal. 

Movement—escape—was of paramount importance, and yet nothing was riskier—exposure. She did not wish to kill, but she would kill without a second thought. She had no strategy, except for the most simple one. It was a style of contradictions. After all, nothing made sense to a cornered animal except survival. 

When Ahsoka finished an especially complicated set of movements reminiscent of a run-in with Purge Troopers on Devaron, landing in a crouched position with both blades held at her side, she registered that someone was watching her. 

It was someone who wasn’t making any effort to hide, simply standing perfectly still in one of the observation balconies, concealed only by shadow. 

Ahsoka turned towards the observer, keeping her sabers alit. “Yes?” 

There was no response, and then the lights in the salle came on all at once, and Ahsoka found herself staring up at Count Dooku. 

Master Dooku, she reminded herself, while also wondering why the hell she was reserving any sort of respect for the man who was apparently a step away from the Sith. 

“Most peculiar,” Dooku said, his arms folded behind his back and his expression only slightly less snobby than Ahsoka remembered. 

Ahsoka blinked away the sudden brightness and extinguished her sabers, arching a brow. “Care to repeat that?”

“The Jedi from the past,” Dooku said. He turned and descended from the balcony, stopping at the landing, his stare boring into her. “If the rumors are to be believed.” 

“You don’t seem like the type to listen to rumors.”

Dooku continued as if she’d said nothing at all. “If this is a deception, your lightsaber form does not betray you. You were not taught by anyone in this Temple.” He strode towards her, and Ahsoka fingered the buttons on her saber. “Even in the sloppiest of techniques, an echo of the master can be seen. I recognize no one in yours.” His hand went to his belt, and then in a nearly indiscernible action, he snapped his lightsaber out to the side, igniting a blade of deep, regal blue. “At least, not by sight alone.” 

Ahsoka had honestly been expecting a red blade. The innocuous color nearly surprised her into lowering her guard, but instincts saved her when Dooku leapt. 

She crossed her sabers in front of her to meet Dooku’s first strike, and blue clashed with white. He briefly scrutinized Ahsoka’s face, and then spun away.

She’d never fought Dooku before, which made her slightly nervous, but that was balanced out by knowing she was a student of the man who’d killed Dooku. If only she could tell him that.  “I don’t know how much etiquette has changed, but I’m pretty sure it should still be polite to ask before sparring,” she said. 

“This is not a spar,” Dooku said. “This is a test.” 

“Of what?” 

“Your—” 

Ahsoka didn’t wait for him to finish before she jumped straight up, extinguishing her lightsabers mid-leap and killing the lights with a wave of her hand before she landed in one of the rafters far above. Immediately, she quieted her mind, burying all her Force presence behind her strongest shield, rendering herself as invisible and shadowy as she’d been during any mission for the Rebellion. She knew survival would let her hide even in the face of Dooku’s Temple training and mastery.

Below, Dooku turned slowly, keeping his saber lit. Then he too shut it off, and Ahsoka felt his Force presence vanish. But what she didn’t feel vanish was his presence in her montrals, her echolocation sense clearly pinging off his body as she felt him moving towards the other end of the room, toward one of the balconies. 

That was all she needed to intercept him, leaping across the rafters to one just above him and swinging around before dropping straight down. She didn’t turn on her sabers. Instead, she kicked him in the head. 

The feeling of her foot connecting with Dooku’s forehead was one of the most satisfying sensations she’d ever experienced. She hadn’t had the time, energy, or security to feel satisfied about cutting Maul’s hands off, but this… she was going to remember this. 

She’d knocked Dooku to the ground, and before he could react, Ahsoka was on top of him, planting a knee on his chest and crossing her now-lit sabers over his neck, leaving him no room to move. 

“Do you yield?” she said. 

Dooku was silent for a moment, blinking rapidly. That in itself was possibly the most perturbed she’d ever seen him. “I underestimated you.”

Ahsoka didn’t move, the reality of the moment sinking in. She had a chance to rid the galaxy of a future problem. It would be so easy to just slash her sabers downward. Despicably easy. 

Why couldn’t she bring herself to do it? Was it because Dooku was, for all this snobbery and reclusiveness and standoffishness, still a Jedi, and therefore still innocent? Was it because he deserved a chance to do better just like anyone else? Was it because she might be able to use him somehow? 

It was probably a bit of those things, but it was mostly because Ahsoka knew it would be impossible to get away with murder in the heart of the Jedi Temple.

“I’ll let you have a rematch if you tell me what you want,” she said finally. 

Dooku was silent for a moment, staring at the blades at his neck. Finally, his expression shifted. “I yield.”

Wordlessly, Ahsoka shut off her sabers and stood, watching as Dooku got up and dusted himself off, straightening his robes. He looked askance at Ahsoka, before igniting his saber again, holding it out to one side in an opening stance.

“You going to start talking?” Ahsoka said. 

“Patience.”

Ahsoka sighed and ignited her sabers. 

“Do not think you can pull the same trick with your Togrutan abilities,” Dooku said as they began to slowly circle each other. “I failed to consider the detection skill your montrals offer you. I will not make that mistake again.” He struck, lightning-fast, and Ahsoka put more effort than was comfortable into blocking. 

“You’re not holding up your end of the deal,” she said. 

“When I heard rumor of a Jedi stumbling out of the past, fresh from the darkest days of the Republic, my interest was piqued.” 

Dooku leapt at her again, this time leading with a flurry of strikes placed in just the right spot to make Ahsoka twist awkwardly to block, never letting her regain her balance, and when he stepped back again, she knew it wasn’t because she’d successfully fought off the attack. 

“I was not entirely surprised when I realized this so-called Jedi from the past was the same one I’d greeted just a day ago. You carried a unique presence, and now I see why.”

Ahsoka stayed silent, breathing slowly, waiting for more.

“I see someone free from the convention and complacency that stupefies our Order.”

Wonderful, he was sounding more like the Sith Lord she was familiar with. 

“You were most certainly not taught by anyone in this Temple.” An impossibly precise slash from Dooku nearly got through her guard. “What is this defense? It’s as if you were trained by someone who cared only about attacking.”

“My master always said the best defense was a good offense.”

“Appalling.” Dooku stepped back, adopting a defensive stance. “Demonstrate it.” 

Ahsoka didn’t attack immediately, instead watching him. “What are you looking for?” 

“Competence,” Dooku said. “What do you know of the Republic’s situation?”

Ahsoka considered her words carefully. “Not much,” she began, advancing on Dooku, feeling him out with a swing that he deflected easily. “But I saw a planet being starved out by a senseless invasion, and a Republic that was either unwilling or unable to do anything about it. Apparently the Jedi weren’t even supposed to be on Naboo.” 

“It was an unauthorized mission,” Dooku said as she weaved around him. “And even then… It would not have been enough, if not for you. I’ve heard of what you managed on Naboo, and seen footage.” 

Ahsoka took a stab, both literally and figuratively. “You sound like you’re trying to recruit me.” 

Dooku blocked with an irritating effortlessness. “You rely on tricks and deception to win. Can you not win on even ground?” 

Suddenly, he parried with such force that it threw Ahsoka off-balance, and then he came at her with an attack that forced her backwards three steps, and then her back hit a wall as Dooku’s blade landed against her sabers again. She was cornered.

“Do you yield?” he said.

“What do you want?” Ahsoka said. 

Dooku studied her for a long moment, pressing the saberlock closer to her, sparks dancing off.

“The Republic is dying,” he said after a moment. “Choked out by its own stagnation and corruption. Lawlessness is on the rise. The galaxy will fall into chaos.” 

“You think you know chaos?” was all Ahsoka could think to say, and she meant every word of it. How could the same person who claimed to be against chaos also ignite the Clone Wars? 

Dooku leaned in even closer, and now Ahsoka could feel the heat radiating from her sabers. “The Jedi Order has the power to bring order. But they are too weak. They will not consider more radical actions, and refuse to unleash the true power of the Force.”

Every single alarm bell in her head was ringing at full blast.

“But there are no such limits on you.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said through gritted teeth. This felt less and less like a test with every additional ounce of force Dooku added to the saberlock. 

“I believe the only way to save the Republic is to tear it down with the power of the Dark Side.” 

There it was.

Her heart began to race. “And what do you know of the Dark Side?”

“Nothing yet,” Dooku said, and to her complete astonishment there was nothing but truth in his words. At least as far as she could tell. 

Huh?

“The Sith Master who was behind Naboo—I plan to seek him out and become his ally, his student. And I would take any like-minded Jedi with me.” His eyes met hers, and she once again was surprised to see only brown, no sickly yellow. “Of which there is only one.” 

Ahsoka stared. This wasn’t Dooku as a Sith Lord. This was Dooku looking for a Sith Lord. And suddenly, she was disgusted. 

“There’s only one thing I can’t stand more than an inept government,” she said. 

“Oh?” 

“Some idiot who thinks he can fix the whole thing by himself.” 

Dooku arched an eyebrow, and Ahsoka made her move. 

She deactivated one of her sabers—not both—and with all the weight that Dooku was pushing against her with, he lurched just a tiny bit, his saber sliding slightly against the other still-activated blade—and it was all Ahsoka needed to dart sideways, kicking him in the knee as she spun away. 

She turned her other lightsaber back on as Dooku turned to face her. “You want to join the Sith for political reasons,” she hissed, circling him. “Pathetic. You’d be chewed up and spit out. You know nothing.” 

Dooku was frowning now. “What do you know of the Dark Side, then?”

“I know it tore apart the galaxy and left nothing better in its wake. I saw it. I lived it.” She met his eyes again, and this time she held back none of what she knew—the horrors of the Empire, the anguish of Order 66, burning cities, scorched planets, bloodied corpses, the desolation, the destruction, the obliteration the loss the pain—

Dooku recoiled. 

It gave her some small comfort to see him step back like that. Even if it was just a reflexive action, it meant maybe he wasn’t yet a monstrous murderer. But honestly, maybe it was just that he was soft. He’d always had a preference for the refined in the Clone Wars, letting others do his dirty work for him.

“I knew of somebody like you once,” Ahsoka said. “Somebody who thought he knew best in all the ways of the Force, somebody who thought he could use the Dark Side like he was shooting a blaster, somebody who only brought more and more destruction into the galaxy in the name of creating perfect order. And my master killed him.”

She knew her words rang with truth, and the pulse of surprise from Dooku confirmed it. “My master cut off both his hands and decapitated him. Just like I cut off the Sith’s hands on Naboo. The only thing that stopped me from finishing him off was knowing he could be useful to interrogate. The same Sith which you think are so superior.” 

She felt nauseous for having considered working with this lump of cells. He was so deep into apathy and callousness that the Dark Side appealed to him. And maybe it was his desperation over the crumbling Republic that’d driven him to this point, but she couldn’t muster any sympathy for that right now. 

“Consider that, and ask yourself if you could defeat me.” She took a step closer, falling into a ready position. Dooku shifted as well, his saber tilting towards her in a posture that was ever so slightly defensive. “Because you’ve just announced your intention to join the Sith, and I have no reason to keep you alive.” 

“You are trying to intimidate me into remaining in the Jedi Order,” Dooku said coolly. “That is not a particularly Jedi method.” 

Ahsoka’s grip on her sabers tightened. “Mercy doesn’t apply to someone who would scorch the galaxy to remake it in his own image.” 

Silence reigned. She watched Dooku. His expression was unreadable. The Force felt as if it was balancing on a precarious point, and she didn’t know which way to tip it. 

“The man like you that my master slayed. In the end, he accomplished nothing. Just as you would, if you pursue the Dark Side.” 

Dooku didn’t react. Ahsoka realized she didn’t want to be here anymore and didn’t want to let Dooku regain an initiative. So she jumped upwards, landing in the rafters once again.

“If you actually want to accomplish something, you wouldn’t be asking me to follow you. You’d be asking to follow me,” she called down from her perch.

Leaving him was a gamble. But she knew she was a riddle to Dooku, maybe even a challenge. And she was betting Dooku wouldn’t leave the Order until he’d solved her—his arrogance wouldn’t let him. Good thing she didn’t plan on letting him solve her. 

Besides, if he did leave the Order anyways and went looking for the Sith, then she’d have an actual excuse to kill him and maybe expose Sidious in the process.

She extinguished her sabers, and had just cloaked herself in the Force again when Dooku spoke into the darkness. 

“What are you?”

Ahsoka thought for a moment before letting loose a reply as she slipped away. 

“I’m a survivor.”

She needed to leave. She didn’t even know where she was going—she just let her feet and the Force carry her, leaping onto the side of buildings and prowling her way through darkness until she was far enough from the Temple that she could entirely block it out with a raised hand.

Then she stopped, bending over to catch her breath, and wondered why in the Force she was even trying this. 

Ah yes, what a great way to convert someone to your side, call him an idiot and threaten to kill him, some little part of her brain piped up. 

Well, it’s not like he’ll respond to anything else, Ahsoka snapped back. 

Good point, the little part said, and went silent. 

She gave a small, satisfied smile and took stock of her surroundings. She’d landed on the roof of a deserted hovertrain stop—no, wait, there was somebody standing off to one side, waiting for a train. 

Ahsoka was about to leave before she could be spotted when suddenly, the Force tickled her senses. 

She blinked and turned back to the lone figure on the platform. Focusing on him, she realized his presence was familiar, and—Oh. She was staring at the junior senator for Alderaan, one Bail Organa. 

Bail. It seemed the Force had guided her here for a reason, then. Ahsoka watched the man for a moment—he looked far younger and less tired than she’d last seen him, which was to be expected. Without the weight of the Empire and the stress of running a rebellion pressing down on him, he looked positively carefree as he looked over a datapad in his hand, munching absentmindedly on some sort of pastry. 

She watched him for a moment, and then decided to act. Forget Dooku—this was the kind of ally she needed.

When Bail turned away slightly to inspect a glowing schedule board, she silently jumped down to the walkway leading up to the platform. Adopting a casual posture, she entered the platform, standing a respectful distance away. Bail’s gaze briefly flicked over her, but he returned to his datapad within moments. Ahsoka waited one, two, three beats, planning what she was going to say, and then spoke. 

“Senator Organa,” she said, using her Agent Of The Rebellion voice. Bail wouldn’t recognize her, of course, but he would know that tone meant business. 

Bail looked fully at her, startled. “Ah—Pardon?” His eyes immediately landed on the lightsabers at her belt, and then he adopted a diplomat’s posture, nodding. “Master Jedi. I was not expecting to find anyone else out and about at this hour, but I suppose the Order never sleeps.” 

Ahsoka smiled, while also inwardly being amazed at just how easily Bail accepted that carrying a lightsaber meant she was a Jedi. Of course, he had no reason to think otherwise, but wow. 

“I can’t say I was expecting to see a senator out so late, either,” she said.

“Early.”

“What?” 

“I’m up early,” Bail said, nodding to the clock on the schedule board. “I’m hoping to speak with some colleagues about a draft of a trade bill this afternoon, and I wanted the time to prepare some notes.” 

Ahsoka nodded, noting the sky was just starting to lighten in the east. She’d been awake for longer than she thought. “It’s my work that brings me here, too,” she said. “Do you have a moment?” 

Bail gave a slightly helpless smile. “Well, my hovertrain seems to be delayed, so… How may I be of assistance to the Order?” 

“Well…” Ahsoka thought for a moment about how to frame this. “This isn’t actually official Order business. I’m here on my own.” 

His expression turned pensive. “Master Jedi… What is this about?” 

“I wish the Order would act on this, but the Senate would never allow it, and yet I can’t just stand by and let it happen…” 

She’d chosen her words right. At the hint of injustice in her tone, Bail perked up, his misgivings fading slightly, a genuine curiosity rising in him. “What is it?” 

Ahsoka wanted to say Naboo, just because she knew that Bail had the smarts to uncover some dark secrets there that not even she could see, but she also knew she couldn’t push a yet-unknown senator into Palpatine’s crosshairs. She chose something safer. 

“The Trade Federation,” she said. “With its viceroy dead, there is a power vacuum. Doubtlessly, the Senate will step in to try and manage it. But… I don’t trust them to manage it with the slightest bit of fairness.”

“Hm,” Bail said, and Ahsoka couldn’t hold back a smile at just how familiar that noncommittal noise was. What it really meant was that he was strongly considering it. “Do you fear consequences?”

“I’m not sure,” she said—mostly truth. She knew Sidious had squirreled away some resources—droid foundries later seen on Geonosis, for example—when the Trade Federation went into a brief state of turmoil after Naboo last time. But this time, with Gunray dead, who knew how much he could get away with? 

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” she continued. “I’m just making you aware.” 

“And why me, Master Jedi?” Bail said. “I am honored, of course, but surely there are other, more prominent champions of integrity you could approach?” 

Ahsoka knew for a fact that at least one of the “champions of integrity” that Bail was thinking of were, in fact, corrupt despots who would flourish in the Empire. Most of the rest ended up dead. 

“The Force has guided me,” she replied. A perfectly Jedi answer. Obi-Wan would be proud. 

Bail let out a startled chuckle. “I suppose I cannot argue with that.” 

A pulsing horn alerted them both to the approach of the hovertrain.

He tucked away his datapad as the blaze of the headlights washed over them. “I apologize for ending this conversation so soon, but I must depart,” he said, bowing to her. “Unless you’d want to come along…?” 

Ahsoka shook her head. She trusted Bail to do something with what she’d said. Putting him onto this would still be opposition to Palpatine’s agenda, but there would be nothing noteworthy to the Sith Lord about an altruistic senator attempting to stabilize a corporation in disarray. 

“You should talk to Queen Amidala of Naboo,” she said abruptly. 

Bail blinked. “Any particular reason why?” 

She smiled. “I think you two will get along.” 

“Well… If I were to push for greater oversight of the Trade Federation, it would certainly be prudent to talk to her,” Bail mused as the hovertrain came to a stop. He nodded. “I will consider your advice and see if there is anything I can do. Thank you.”

Ahsoka waved to him as he entered the train. Then, suddenly he turned abruptly. 

“I apologize; I never asked for your name.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ahsoka said. Bail raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything else, the doors shut between them.

She watched the train whoosh away. It was starting to get light. Time for breakfast somewhere, preferably a diner with at least three different tookashake options, and then back to the Temple. She still had to meet Plo.  

It was several hours after sunrise when Ahsoka found her way back to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, picking her way between delicate rock gardens until she found what she was looking for: her favorite spot. 

Tucked between two small waterfalls was a stone staircase that was less steep than she remembered. Ascending it took her to a small grotto which the two waterfalls flowed out of; between the channels feeding the falls was a raised precipice just big enough for four or five people to sit comfortably on, with thick beds of moss offering a natural cushion. 

Ahsoka settled down on the moss and crossed her legs, watching the water rush past on either side of her and tumble out of sight. Several lanterns hung from the ceiling of the grotto, and bioluminescent moss coated the walls. The combined effort created a soft warm glow all over. She closed her eyes, not meditating, just soaking in the gentle noise of the water and the luminosity against her eyelids.

Footsteps reached her ears, followed by the sound of someone coming up the staircase. She looked up just in time to see Plo’s head come into view. He stopped when he saw her and smiled. “Good morning.”

Ahsoka inclined her head in greeting. “You never said where to meet, but you still found me.”

“I had a hunch,” Plo said. “After all, this is her favorite spot, too.”

With that, he crested the stairs, and that was when Ahsoka realized he had someone with him, someone he was leading by the hand. A small figure hid behind Plo’s robes, only an orange-skinned arm and half of a striped lekku visible. 

Ahsoka’s breath caught in her throat. 

“It’s all right,” Plo said to the figure behind him. “This is my friend.” 

Finally, the face of a young Togruta girl emerged from behind the robes, and Ahsoka Tano’s eyes met Ahsoka Tano, with decades between them. 

Ahsoka felt rooted to the ground as she looked at the much younger version of herself, who was now looking at her curiously, stepping out in front of Plo and then letting go of his hand, slowly crossing the gap between them, her wide toddler eyes taking in everything about Ahsoka. 

Time felt as if it’d slowed down. She was completely unable to think of a single thing to say. She couldn’t even think of a greeting that would do this justice. 

Fortunately, Baby Her took care of that. 

“Mama?” she said, reaching out to her. 

Ahsoka couldn’t restrain a startled burst of laughter, one which went on for much longer than she was expecting as a rush of nervous energy escaped her. 

“Oh, nope, you’ve got it all wrong, kid, I am absolutely not your mom,” she said, shaking her head. 

Baby Ahsoka didn’t look convinced. “You feel… close.”

Well, that was fair. She’d wondered how it would feel to sense the presence of herself. And, well… it did feel strange. It was like sensing herself and sensing somebody else all at the same time. Even her montrals felt a little confused. 

“Here.” Ahsoka held out her hands, and Baby Ahsoka took them, the Force pulsing gently between them. Ahsoka felt her studying her in the Force as fastidiously as a three-year-old could manage. 

“I’m more like…” She tilted her head, thinking. “A big sister. Think of me that way.” 

Baby Ahsoka’s face lit up. “Sister!” 

Ahsoka broke into a grin. “Yeah, that works. It’s nice to meet you. I'm Ahsoka.” 

Baby Ahsoka gasped and leaned forward, propping herself up against Ahsoka’s knee. “Same name!” 

“Yeah. Isn’t that cool?” It was also far too disconcerting, and Ahsoka came to a decision. “I’m sorry, I cannot call you Ahsoka,” she said. “That is going to be too weird for me. I need to call you something else, even if it’s just a nickname only I use. How about…” Almost immediately, the perfect choice popped into her head. “Ashla. I’m going to call you Ashla, if that’s okay?”

Ashla smiled widely and repeated the name slowly, nodding. “Ashhh-la.” 

“You like it? It means the Light Side of the Force.” 

An agreeable hum from Plo told her he hadn’t missed the meaning of that name, either.

“Mm-hm.” Ashla proceeded to sit down next to Ahsoka, her attention turning to the cave and the reflections of the lanterns dancing in the water. 

Okay, the different name helped a lot in thinking of Baby Her as a completely different person. Because this was a completely different person. Hopefully, Ashla wouldn’t grow up to be exactly like her, because if she did, that meant things were going just as terrible the second time around. 

Still, as necessary as it was to see Ashla as someone different, something about it created an ache deep in Ahsoka’s chest. Maybe it was the knowledge that she was so out of place and time that she wasn’t even the same person as herself anymore.

But it also made her happy, seeing Ashla and knowing there was a version of her who was going to get chances at things she never had. 

Unexpectedly, Ashla looked up and gave her another toothy smile, before putting a hand on Ahsoka’s side. “Let’s be friends.” 

Ahsoka laughed quietly. “Sounds good to me.” 

Ashla hummed happily and began poking in the moss. Ahsoka looked up at Plo and gave him her most grateful smile. “Thank you.” 

Plo nodded, rumbling with satisfaction. “I thought you might need this."

Chapter Text

Ahsoka was just re-entering the suite when her datapad beeped. She glanced down and saw a message from one of the Masters in charge of teaching—he understandably had quite a lot of questions for her. She began to type out a reply, and then in the midst of that, another message arrived. 

This one was from the central Jedi server which handled requests from persons outside the Temple wishing to speak with Jedi. It was a forwarded message from somebody else, and Ahsoka was immediately on guard, because who outside the Temple could’ve possibly known she was here, unless—

And her fear was confirmed as soon as she opened the message and saw it was from the Chancellor’s office. 

The message was short and polite—the Chancellor wanted to meet the Jedi who had saved his home planet, and was inviting her to tea in his office. 

She closed the suite’s door behind her and deleted the message immediately. It would be quite easy to claim she’d never received it—so many message requests just got caught up in the Temple network’s filters… And not even messages from the Chancellor himself were immune to the jaws of digital bureaucracy, imagine that!

But having that excuse did nothing to fix the real problem here, which was that she was on Sidious’s radar. 

Well, in fairness, she had just singlehandedly ended a planetary siege and kicked his apprentice’s ass in solo combat. It would’ve been more unusual if she hadn’t received a message from him. 

Now she was wondering if old Obi-Wan had received a similar message in his first days after Naboo. And, with none of the knowledge she’d had, he would’ve accepted the invitation, and Anakin was probably invited too on account of blowing up the droid control ship. 

Was that where Anakin and Sidious’s friendship had started? With him being a starstruck child catching the attention of the head of the Republic and being drawn in by his eloquent geniality? 

It was a horrid thought. Nine-year-old Anakin would’ve absolutely loved the chance to talk to the Chancellor and make friends with him—make friends with the man who would ultimately be responsible for his death. 

The thought made her want to vomit. She had to glance over at Anakin and Shmi’s sleeping forms just to reassure herself that they were still here, unharmed and blissfully unaware of the danger they all faced. 

Her gaze passed over a freshly healed scar on Shmi’s leg just above the ankle where the chip inside her had been removed yesterday; Anakin had an identical scar. Seeing that, and knowing they were truly free, was a wave of reassurance.

…For that matter, why had the Chancellor made friends with Anakin? There was something strange about him making friends with Anakin specifically. Shouldn’t Obi-Wan have noticed that, too? It wasn’t as if the Chancellor normally went around making friends with Jedi Padawans. 

Her second question was more easily answered. Obi-Wan would’ve had so much on his mind in the years after Naboo. The death of Qui-Gon, his ascension to Knighthood, taking on a Padawan unlike any other in thousands of years, dealing with the attention that surely would’ve come as a result of defeating the first confirmed Sith in a millennium… Had Obi-Wan functioned at all? Anakin and Obi-Wan had never talked much about the early days of their Master-Padawan relationship. Maybe there was a reason for that. 

 So, yeah, she could easily forgive Obi-Wan for being too tangled up in his own issues to notice Palpatine and Anakin becoming friends. And, she had to remind herself, there was no reason for anyone to doubt Palpatine’s intentions right now. It had taken years for the Jedi to start doubting Palpatine’s intentions. Right now, he was still universally seen as a good-natured, respectable politician with the galaxy’s best interests at heart. 

Blegh. 

The original question, however… Much harder. The obvious answer to why Sidious would befriend Anakin was: Anakin was powerful. Powerful enough to kill a Sith Lord. It would’ve been useful for Sidious to have one of his most dangerous opponents close to him—to throw him off the trail of the Sith, or to glean information about the Order, or even to make it easier to kill Anakin when the time came. Or all three. 

Or… 

A chill ran down Ahsoka’s spine as she remembered something she’d said to the Council just days ago, as a threat to get them to accept Anakin’s training. 

With Maul assumed dead and Dooku not yet a Sith… had… had Sidious considered stealing away Anakin, young and untrained, as an apprentice? Thank goodness, that hadn’t happened last time, but… Was he considering it now?

She shuddered, violently. 

Anakin hadn’t garnered any attention this time around—there was no reason for him to be on Sidious’s radar at the moment, unless he already sensed Anakin’s Force-sensitivity—Yeah, she had to assume he’d noticed. It was dangerous to underestimate the Sith Lord’s abilities.

Suddenly, she was darkly grateful that Naboo turned out the way it did, because it didn’t give Sidious any more reason to take notice of Anakin. She was much more likely to be the subject of his attention now. She would do her absolute best to keep it that way. 

An ache in her fingers alerted Ahsoka to the fact that she was clutching the datapad so hard it seemed to be on the verge of cracking. She took a deep breath and forced her fingers to loosen their grip, trying to calm herself.

Here was something she could take comfort in: Even with no one suspecting anything, and even with years and years to craft an approach, and even with all the power in the galaxy, Sidious couldn’t turn Anakin into a Sith. 

The thought filled her with pride. Even under the direct influence of a Sith Lord, her master’s goodness shone through. Of course, it hadn’t deterred Sidious from his plans in any way. Instead, his next apprentice was Vader. And then Vader killed Anakin. 

The memory of that cold lightsaber hilt in Obi-Wan’s hut flashed through her mind again—she could almost feel its weight in her hand. 

There was so much she didn’t know about Darth Vader. Where did he come from? How could he have remained undetected for so long? She didn’t even know his approximate age. Or his species. Or his identity before being a Sith—if he’d even had one.

This was a mystery she needed to unravel. Vader was a merciless Jedi-killer. No one, not even Anakin, was a match for him in battle. He had to be taken out before he got too powerful. 

It occurred to her that perhaps Vader was already being trained by Sidious. Multiple Sith apprentices was nothing new—Wait, did Maul know about Vader? 

If he did, he wouldn’t exactly be eager to share his knowledge. Still, she had to ask. 

Now the voice of Obi-Wan on Tatooine, exhausted and deadened, echoed through her head.

I saw him die in front of me. 

And then that two-syllable name falling out of his mouth like a boulder. 

Vader. 

Maybe that was why Obi-Wan had looked so thoroughly defeated, so completely unlike the Obi-Wan Ahsoka knew. She could almost call it hopelessness, (something she’d never seen in Obi-Wan before), and maybe that was because Obi-Wan had watched his friend and ally, who was maybe the Order’s greatest hope, die at the hands of the rising Sith, and maybe that had convinced him there was nothing more which could be done.

She could feel a building pressure in her face which meant she was about to cry. What was she supposed to do? What was anyone supposed to do in the face of such immense and apparently unbreakable evil?  

She hunched over to the point of almost curling in on herself, feeling as if she wanted to do nothing except crawl into bed and stay there for a very long time. And that was when she realized Shmi and Anakin were awake, and watching her. 

“What’s wrong?” Anakin said. 

Ahsoka unfolded herself and managed to sit mostly upright, trying to find words to reply. She didn’t want to lie to Shmi and Anakin. But she couldn’t tell them this. She couldn’t tell them they’d both died, and she certainly couldn’t tell them she didn’t know how to stop it from happening again.

“I…” 

“You don’t have to tell us right now,” Shmi said carefully. 

Ahsoka nodded. “No, it’s fine, I…” She faced them, and finally landed on something which felt like a genuine answer. 

“I feel very powerless right now,” she said. It was exactly what she was feeling right now, and exactly what she didn’t know how to solve.

Shmi nodded, saying nothing.

“The Sith feel infallible,” Ahsoka continued. “They just… they don’t stop coming back, even when we think we’ve defeated them. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know how I’m supposed to beat them?”

“And you think you have to be the one to defeat them?” Shmi said gently.

What kind of question was that? “I think I’m the only person alive right now who has a hope of beating them! Nobody else in the Order has ever seen a Sith! I’m our only hope right now, and I don’t feel very hopeful!”

“What rule is there which states you must do this alone, even if you are the most experienced and skilled?” Shmi said. 

“I—” Ahsoka paused, rummaging for a good answer. “I don’t… Who else will do it?”

“On Tatooine, the only ones who believed that a task must be done alone were the slavers.”

Ahsoka stopped, and realized… damn it, Shmi was right. This wasn’t something that anyone could do alone. But… How could she ask for help? Who could she ask? Could she risk anyone dying again? “It’s… I wish it was that simple,” she said. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” 

“But what if you get hurt because you try to do everything by yourself?” That was Anakin asking that question, looking almost insulted by the possibility of Ahsoka getting injured. 

Ahsoka let out a long sigh. “…Okay.” She lowered her head, looking Anakin in the eyes. “I will try to ask for help with fighting the Sith. I promise.” 

Anakin nodded, and then jumped forwards, plastering Ahsoka in a hug. 

Ahsoka made a noise of surprise and steadied herself. “Thanks, kid.” She couldn’t see Anakin’s face right now, but she could feel him smiling. 

“We’ll help!” Anakin said decisively, his voice somewhat muffled by Ahsoka’s shoulder. 

Shmi was watching them both with a contented smile. “The more you have by your side, the less powerless you will feel,” she said. “That’s how the slaver operates. Divide and make them feel alone, and powerlessness will follow.”

That really was exactly what Sidious wanted, wasn’t it? That was what he’d done to the Order—spread thinly through the galaxy, leaving most Jedi alone and unable to stop what was coming. 

She laughed quietly. “Shmi, I’m supposed to be teaching you, not the other way around.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shmi said. She paused, and then her smile took on a mischievous twist. “I am older than you, after all.” 

Oh Force, Shmi was right, Ahsoka hadn’t even realized—a weird situation just got even weirder. 

“And you don’t mind that?” she said, wondering if Padawans ever decided they didn’t want to be trained. 

“Not at all,” Shmi said, gently lifting Anakin off of her. “After all, the best teachers have just as much to learn from their students.” 

Ahsoka smiled. “Hey, my master’s master used to say that too. So… I guess that means I’m doing great?” 

Time to talk to Maul. Again. Ahsoka hoped this was just as excruciating for him as it was for her, but for different reasons.

She stepped off the turbolift onto the prison level somewhere deep in the Temple, and nodded to the Temple Guard that greeted her. After a quiet request, the guard disappeared into a side room, leaving her alone. 

She wasn’t alone for long. The turbolift dinged again, and Ahsoka turned just in time to see Dooku step into the hallway. 

They noticed each other at the same time. It annoyed Ahsoka that even when coming to a sudden halt, Dooku managed to keep his dignified manner. 

Silence reigned between them, the turbolift door silently sliding shut. It occurred to Ahsoka that she stood between Dooku and Maul’s cell. She wondered where on Coruscant that Temple Guard had gone. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said finally. 

Dooku said nothing, watching her archly as she unsubtly shifted into a defensive position. 

“I know exactly what you’re doing here,” she said after a moment. “You want to talk to the Sith.” 

Still no reply. She pressed on. “You’re going to ask him about the secrets of the Dark Side. Maybe you’re even planning to free him, so he can take you to his master.” 

She put her hands on her hips, her fingers conspicuously twitching toward her sabers. “Let me give you a bit of free advice before you try that. If Maul takes you to his master, either you’re going to kill Maul or he’s going to kill you. Which one do you think it’s going to be?” 

Dooku’s eyes followed the movement of Ahsoka’s hands, the rest of his body perfectly still. 

“You presume a great deal,” he said. 

“As someone who’s fought you both, I can say…” Ahsoka called a saber to her hand and ignited it, snapping the blade upwards, the tip just inches away from Dooku’s chin. “Even with no hands, Maul would beat you.” She let her gaze bore into his eyes, searching for a hint of darkness. “You were the easier opponent.”

Dooku made no visible reaction to the lightsaber at his face, his eyes briefly flicking to the blade and then back to her. 

“But forget Maul. Good luck getting past me.”  

A long, tortured silence dragged out between them, Ahsoka’s blade never wavering, and Dooku never moving so much as an inch. He watched her closely, his Force presence roiling yet somehow unreadable. 

She hoped he understood just how deadly serious she was right now. If Dooku decided he truly wanted Maul and the Sith, she would literally kill him right now and deal with the consequences later. 

Just as she started to wonder how this was going to end, the turbolift opened again, and Mace Windu stepped out.

The first thing he saw was the ignited lightsaber, and then his head whipped to Ahsoka, and then Dooku, and then he simply stared for one, two seconds, and spoke.

“What,” he said, his voice dangerously flat, “Is going on.” 

Oddly enough, Ahsoka wasn’t too worried about how this looked for her. So she didn’t say anything, instead tilting her head at Dooku in a way that was almost mocking, very curious as to what he’d say. 

Dooku, in turn, was only staring stonily at her, looking the most like the dour-faced murderer of the Clone Wars she remembered. 

“I need someone to tell me what’s happening,” Windu said, exasperation growing in the Force. “I really don’t want to have to figure this out myself.”

After a few more moments of Dooku not saying anything, Ahsoka decided to speak. She did not move her lightsaber.

“Your Order should keep a closer eye on its wayward disgruntled masters.”

“Knight Tano, what are you implying?” Windu said. After a moment, something seemed to occur to him, and he swung to Dooku. “Master Dooku, do you have anything to say about this matter?” 

“I do not,” Dooku said. He stepped back from Ahsoka’s blade and into the still-open turbolift. “This is a personal matter.”

“A personal matter,” Mace repeated in possibly the most unamused tone Ahsoka had ever heard. 

“Yes,” Dooku said without an ounce of irony. “Knight Tano and I will keep it between ourselves.” He inclined his head at them, and pressed a button in the turbolift. 

Belatedly, Ahsoka noticed there was still a faint purplish-red imprint on Dooku’s forehead where her boot had landed last night. 

“You should put something on that bruise,” she said. 

The doors closed on Dooku.

Mace muttered several things in another language, and then turned to Ahsoka.

“I would like to inform you that if I had walked in on any other Jedi besides you holding any other Jedi besides Dooku at saberpoint, I would have reacted with considerably more alarm.” 

Ahsoka smirked, extinguishing her saber. “So it’s not just me noticing his issues, then?” 

Mace sighed deeply, and nodded slowly. “You are my number one headache in the Order, but Dooku is my number two headache.” 

“Go on.” 

Mace nodded towards the other end of the hall, indicating for Ahsoka to follow. “He may have withdrawn himself from most of the Orders’ activities, but he has been quite… vocal elsewhere about his criticisms of the Republic and the Order.” He winced. “It has been detrimental to our public image.” 

“I can imagine,” Ahsoka said, while also wondering what the current Windu would think of the voracious anti-Jedi protests from the end of the war. 

“And yet, for all his objections, he has seemed… oddly reluctant to do anything about it,” he said.

“Makes sense.” 

“How do you figure that?” 

“It’s pretty easy not to do anything when you’ve convinced yourself you can’t do anything,” Ahsoka said. 

Almost immediately, a little voice in the back of her brain reminded her that this was something she would need to remember, too, for the next time she felt powerless. 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, she said to the little voice. Let me know when you have some advice I don’t already know.

Windu, meanwhile, seemed deep in thought. 

“Can’t say that surprises me,” he said finally. “What was he doing here?” 

Ahsoka let out a warning hum—her instinct was to keep that information to herself for now, but then she remembered Shmi’s advice, and decided this was something she could share, but carefully. “Do you want to know?”

“I suppose I have an idea already,” Windu said. “There’s only one reason why he’d be here. Maul.”

Ahsoka nodded. “And why’s he here?” 

Windu looked at her, as if expecting her to answer that, and then blinked. “Ah. If a Jedi feels as if they can’t do anything…” 

“…Maybe the Dark Side starts sounding pretty tempting to him,” Ahsoka finished, as understanding and then dread flooded through Windu’s Force-presence. “Why do you think I was holding him at saberpoint?”

“…I don’t know what’s more concerning,” Windu said slowly. “That I can so easily believe this about Master Dooku… or that I’m so easily believing you.”

“Is that so bad?” 

“I still haven’t decided if you’re exactly what the galaxy needs, or if you’re going to be the end of us all.” 

“I’m not sure either,” Ahsoka said, and although she tried to keep her tone light, she couldn’t hide the hard edge that crept into her voice. Windu had no idea how right he was. 

She didn’t really want to think too much about that, actually. She cast around for something else as they came to a stop in front of Maul’s cell. 

“So what do we do about Dooku?” she said finally. 

Mace gave her a careful look, and then seemed to reach some sort of understanding. “What can we do?” 

In turn, Ahsoka gave him a look that she hoped conveyed the question of isn’t it obvious? without being too rude. “Stop him from being a Sith?” 

“How?” 

Ahsoka opened her mouth. And then closed it. Truth be told, she’d been kind of hoping Dooku would’ve started tossing around Force lighting back there, because at least that would’ve given her a genuine excuse to cut his head off, and then she wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. 

“I assume the solution would’ve been much simpler in your time,” Windu said, and the sympathy in his tone was so clear it made Ahsoka’s heart ache. Because, damn it, he was right. 

“But we cannot punish someone for something they are only considering. Thinking about the Dark Side is not a crime. If it was, we would have to immediately arrest several hundred of the Order’s archivists. Along with every Padawan who’s ever wondered if there was an easier, stronger way.” 

“He was about to sample the Dark Side like a food critic and probably help our prisoner escape,” Ahsoka said. 

“Yes, and you changed his mind. He still has done nothing; the most we could do at the moment is expel him from the Order. Which…” Windu grimaced. “Something like this would probably merit expulsion, but it would be even worse publicity for the Order if we expelled a Master who’s been publicly criticizing us. Our hands are tied.” 

Ahsoka let out a grumble of frustration. “Sometimes I really do wonder if your Order is doing any better than mine was.” 

Windu didn’t answer. He looked down at his datapad and pointedly tapped away at something. 

Unfortunately, he was right. Dooku still had the potential to do good, just like Reva once upon a time. She needed to remember that. Still, that didn’t mean she had to enjoy dragging the good out of him. It would probably be very annoying. And at least the Council would be on high alert to any Dooku nonsense now.

The door to Maul’s cell slid open, and Windu entered, Ahsoka following. 

“What are you doing here, anyways?” she said. “I came down to ask Maul a few questions.” 

Windu didn’t reply immediately, in a way that made her decide there was some sort of bad news coming. 

“Ask quickly,” he said. 

“Huh?” 

“The Senate ordered us to move the prisoner into the custody of the Naboo.” Windu’s tone made it clear he wasn’t happy with this decision in the slightest. “The Chancellor discovered we have one of the perpetrators of the Naboo atrocity in our custody, and so he very publicly demanded that this be handled as a Naboo affair, not a Jedi one.” 

Ahsoka glanced over at Maul—thankfully, he was asleep—and ground her teeth together. Oh, this was a devious move by Sidious. It was so incredibly understandable to any observer that the sitting Chancellor would demand the attackers of his home be tried on that planet. She knew exactly what was coming next. 

“I don’t like that,” she said. “I don’t like that one bit.” 

“Neither do I,” Windu said. “But the Order cannot disobey a near-unanimous order from the Senate.” 

“I can’t believe this.” Oh, of course, the Senate was already in a frenzy over Naboo, and all Sidious had to do was give them a little push to get what he wanted. All while looking completely innocent. “This is exactly what the Sith Lord wants, you know,” she added. “Maul will be vulnerable when we move him. Ripe for assassination.” 

“Yes,” Windu said, his tone almost absent. “It’s… unfortunate.” 

“Not unfortunate,” Ahsoka snapped. “Intentional.” 

Windu’s gaze whipped to her, his eyes widening as a realization dawned on him, both visually and in the Force, and Ahsoka felt a grim sense of satisfaction as she felt the ripples of future events changing dramatically. Had she…? 

“The Sith Lord can manipulate the Senate,” Windu said, his face growing pale. “In such a distressing time, Chancellor Palpatine would’ve easily been pushed into giving the Sith exactly what he needed,” Windu said. “And then the Senate would do the rest. It’s… unfortunately brilliant.” 

Ahsoka almost wanted to scream at Windu that he was so close, yet so far from the truth. But she forced herself to remain composed. She hadn’t put Palpatine on his radar—in fact she might’ve unintentionally distanced him from suspicion—but the Senate was a start. A very good start. Ten years ahead of where they’d been the last time around.

“And you thought the Sith were extinct,” she said, letting a dark note of humor into her tone. “Seems more like they’re running the Republic.” 

“Don’t even joke about that.” Windu put a hand to his forehead. “I was going to escort Maul to Naboo myself, but I need to discuss this with the Council.” His gaze landed on her again. “Could you—”

“I was coming along even if you didn’t ask,” Ahsoka said immediately. 

Windu gave her a wry smile. “Somehow, I expected that.” 

The first dose of sedative they’d used on Maul was wearing off by now, and hopefully he’d be groggy enough to give Ahsoka some genuine answers. 

She deactivated the ray shield around him and picked up his limp body, Maul’s head lolling back and forth with the rhythmic rocking of the prison transport they were in. They were almost to the spaceport where his transport to Naboo awaited. 

Holding him up by one shoulder, she slapped his cheek a few times. “Hey. Wake up, ugly. I’ve got some questions for you.” 

Maul’s eyes snapped open, yellow irises focusing on her instantly. “What do you want, woman?” he croaked.

“Vader,” Ahsoka said. 

His scowl only deepened. “What are you talking about?” 

“You’re dumb, but not that dumb. Vader. I know you know about him,” Ahsoka said. “So why don’t you make this easier for yourself and tell me where I can find him?” 

Maul growled, which seemed to be his default response. “I have never heard that name in my life.” 

Ahsoka stared at him. Kriff, he was telling the truth. The Force told her as much. 

“You really don’t know anything about Vader?” she said. “You don’t know anything about your master’s other apprentices?”

Maul snorted. “I alone have the favor of my master.”

 “Keep telling yourself that.” Ahsoka plucked another sedative hypospray off her belt and jammed it into Maul’s neck. He went limp immediately. She nudged his body back into a sitting position and reactivated the ray shield, taking a seat on the bench and watching him dispiritedly. 

Well, that was a dead end. Either Vader wasn’t a Sith yet, or Sidious was just excellent at keeping him a secret. The second one seemed far more likely. 

Honestly, at this point, she kind of wanted the assassination attempt on Maul to happen just so he would realize Sidious didn’t care about him anymore. 

Her comm beeped. Shmi.

…And Ahsoka had a pretty good idea why she was calling, because she hadn’t told anyone except Windu that she was going along with Maul. She'd told Shmi she’d only be gone for an hour at most.

Suddenly, she understood why Anakin had a habit of running off somewhere without telling her until she noticed he was missing. It was distressingly easy to forget about your Padawan, as it turned out. Or maybe it was just an Anakin behavior that’d rubbed off on her. And in turn her behavior might rub on off Anakin, which would mean his behavior was rubbing off on himself, and that was strange and she wasn’t going to think about it—

She answered the comm. 

“Ahsoka? Where are you?” Shmi said.  

“...Bit of a long story,” Ahsoka said. “But I’m fine! Sorry if I worried you! How are you doing?”

“We’re fine,” Shmi said. “We’re getting a meal now. I assume you’ll be out for a while longer?” 

“Yeah. How did you know?” 

“Well, with the hostage crisis all over the news—”

“The WHAT?” 

 Ahsoka dropped her comm and snatched up a nearby datapad, frantically scrolling through to the HoloNet News, where— 

BOUNTY HUNTERS STORM SENATE! HOSTAGES TAKEN, GUARDS DEAD, ARMED BOMBS PLACED THROUGHOUT SENATE BUILDING

Oh, she recognized this plan; but it wasn’t supposed to happen for another decade. She skimmed over some of an article—the bounty hunters were demanding the release of some politician she’d never heard of—and then it made perfect sense to her. This was a distraction. Of course the whole Order would be focused on this, and… She’d figured Sidious would wait until Naboo to make his move, but damn it, he was doing it now. 

She stood quickly, eyeing Maul’s unconscious body and calling her sabers to her hands. 

“If Anakin could see me now…” she muttered to herself. “Defending a Sith...” 

The last time she’d had to defend a ship carrying an imprisoned Maul… Well, she hoped this went better than that. 

Chapter Text

After three seconds of thought, Ahsoka decided the best course of action was to kidnap Maul. 

She opened the door to the cockpit and laid a hand on the pilot’s shoulder. “Hey. You need to change course.” 

The pilot—wearing some sort of Judiciary Corps uniform, which did not give Ahsoka a lot of confidence in his piloting abilities—threw an incredulous look over his shoulder. “I’ve got orders, ma’am. This ship isn’t going anywhere except the Judiciary spaceport.” 

“Cool. And I’m ordering you to divert your course.”

The pilot did not so much as twitch the joystick. “On whose authority?” 

Ahsoka ignited her lightsaber and raised it to eye-level with the pilot beside his head, deliberately twisting the emitter control just enough to make the blade crackle loudly. “Mine.” 

“Ah.” Glancing at the blade and then displaying remarkable composure, the pilot tilted the controls hard to the left, and they dove out of their speederlane.

Ahsoka really hoped this could be over before the squad of Senate guards in the back realized they were being hijacked. She glanced over to the copilot, who was staring very intently at the turned-off navcomputer, and then began planning a course back to the Temple. “Head for the lower levels. There’s a warehouse—”

Her comm beeped, and she picked up without thinking. “What?” 

“Tano—” Windu. “—You’re seeing the hostage crisis, right?” 

“Yep,” Ahsoka said. “It’s a diversion. Our Sith Lord friend is acting fast.” 

Windu cursed. “The Senate somehow didn’t inform us of what was going on until after we saw the news broadcast. How is it possible he’s made us feel so outclassed amongst the heart of the Order?”

Because this is his home turf too, Ahsoka thought. “Just get me any Jedi Masters you can spare over here,” she said aloud. “We cannot lose Maul. We can take down the entire Sith conspiracy with whatever he’s got stuffed in that tiny little brain of his.” 

Windu made a noise that sounded like a snort. “Triangulating your position now. Where are you headed?” 

“Back to the Temple. I’ll—”

Ahsoka stopped mid-sentence as a warning suddenly rose up in the Force, all of her senses screaming danger—

And then something crashed into the transport from above.

Something big, because amidst an earsplitting screech of metal, suddenly the entire cockpit was pitching straight upwards, but immediately a great force yanked them back downward—

Ahsoka sensed the ground just before it hit, and braced herself and the pilots as best as she could in the Force, hoping it would be enough. 

She’d had a few hard landings in her life, but this one came very close to topping the list as the entire planet seemed to be collapsing above them suddenly, the roof crumpling inward and the viewport shattering and the pilots would’ve gone flying if Ahsoka hadn’t yanked them back with the Force while desperately trying to keep herself stable, until from behind there was a thud-boom which she registered as an explosion in the nanosecond before a curtain of heat slammed into her. 

It didn’t knock her out, but it threw her out of the cockpit and left her flat on the ground outside, a shrill ringing in her ears and her montrals feeling like they’d been turned inside out, and by the time she could see straight again, she could hear blaster fire. 

She rose to her feet (no sign of the pilots), her knees wobbling dangerously under her (still working though), registered a crunch in her right palm (her now-useless comm), and called her lightsabers to her hands—

They weren’t there. Ahsoka froze, reaching out with her senses. Nothing. They were probably buried somewhere in the wreckage, but—no time. Because that blaster fire… That wasn’t the sound of a pitched battle. It was the sound of quick, deliberate shots which meant people were being executed. 

Another shot echoed. 

She took a deep breath and ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she fought without lightsabers. 

It looked like an entire freighter had been crashed into the transport, and there was a gaping hole in the side of the transport—where the shots came from. 

Her montrals had finally stopped freaking out, and now Ahsoka could get a reading on just how many people were inside the ship—thaaaaat was a lot of lifeforms. 

None of them seemed to have the smooth outlines that Senate guard armor created in her montrals’ sense. And one of them, while humanoid, had a very peculiarly shaped head, which seemed more like it was… wearing a… hat.

Ahsoka really, really hoped this wasn’t who she thought it was. Probably was, though.

Edging closer, she peered around the wreckage and saw an unfortunately familiar brown hat against blue skin.

Cad Bane. 

The bodies of Senate Guards were scattered through the wreckage, several of them with a fresh blaster hole in their helmets. There was one guard still alive, on his stomach and barely moving, and Bane was walking over to him, raising his blaster. 

Ahsoka’s eyes widened, and then on instinct she stepped out into the open. 

Bane paused, his blaster halfway raised, staring at her. 

Of course, it wasn’t just Bane here. She recognized a whole rogue’s gallery of the galaxy’s most notorious bounty hunters staring at her, all heavily armed. Somehow, the ray shield surrounding Maul’s unconscious body was still powered up, but it was wavering badly and the way two of the bounty hunters—sentinel droids—were fiddling with it, it wasn’t going to last another minute. 

Bane then gave her a frown which seemed oddly reserved for running into a Jedi, at least until he said, “Move along, buddy. I don’t know how you found out about this job, but the bounty’s ours.” 

Ahsoka blinked, and then realized—with her armor, no Jedi robes, and no lightsabers, Bane thought she was a bounty hunter.

However, before she could even attempt to take advantage of that, another voice hissed out from behind her. 

“Bane, you numbskull, this is a Jedi!” 

As she heard those words, the cold barrel of a rifle pressed into her back. She recognized that voice. 

“You again?” Aurra Sing said from behind her, pushing her forwards with the tip of her rifle. “What, are you following this tattoo-head around or something?”

“Unfortunately, he’s following me,” Ahsoka said. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the bounty hunters had trained their weapons on Ahsoka as soon as they heard the word Jedi, and she didn’t like her chances right now. Besides Bane and Sing, she recognized Bossk, Embo, Sugi, Dengar, two bounty hunters from the original hostage crisis whose names she couldn’t remember, and then there was a Siniteen and also the sentinel droids, which were a bastard to deal with. 

“This isn’t Windu,” one of the other bounty hunters said. “Who’s this?” 

“I don’t know,” Bane said. “But it doesn’t matter. We have her at our mercy. We‘ll just kill—”

“Whatever Sidious is paying you, I’ll quadruple it,” Ahsoka said.

Bane startled, but only slightly, his blaster still trained on Ahsoka. “How did you get that name?” 

“Quadruple the pay,” Ahsoka repeated, practically biting the words out. “The Jedi Council will personally bankroll it. And if they don’t, then you can shoot me. I could probably convince them to go even higher.” 

Sugi lowered her weapon slightly. “I don’t think she’s joking, Bane. And quadruple what we’re already getting paid is a hell of a score.” 

Just then, a loud crackling sound rattled her head, and the ray shield around Maul began to visibly flicker. 

Bane shook his head. “A good bounty hunter doesn’t go back on their agreements. Besides, the man who hired me… It’s a good idea not to upset him.” 

The Force shrilled a warning just as Bane finished talking, and by the time his finger began to squeeze the trigger, Ahsoka was in motion.  

She ducked down and rolled backwards, sweeping a leg under Sing and snatching the rifle from her as she fell. She came up firing at the two droids working on the ray shield, and they ducked away from the fire—not a moment too soon as it turned out, because the ray shield around Maul chose that moment to disintegrate.

Immediately, Ahsoka yanked Maul’s still-inert body towards her with the Force, still firing the rifle with one hand as she quickly backed up. Then, tossing Maul over her shoulder, she turned and ran. 

Before she could even think about making for the skyline, the roar of a jetpack made her dodge and roll (which was hard as kriff while carrying Maul, she practically had to juggle him) just as a barrage of blaster fire swept around her.  Bane soared overhead on a jetpack, firing down at her with dual blasters. Ahsoka dodged again, and then realized she was coming up on the edge of a rooftop. There was only one direction to go: down. 

She jumped off the roof and down into a dim canyon of metal, something exploding behind her close enough to rattle her teeth. 

She landed on a narrow rim and nearly staggered under the extra weight. 

“How can you be so heavy when you’re so short?” she muttered to Maul, before jumping again. 

This time, she fell for much longer, and when she landed, it was on an actual street—well, more of an alleyway. Too narrow for speeders, lined with shops with flickering signs, and filled with all manner of sentient beings. At least, it had been filled. As soon as Ahsoka landed, the alleyway cleared out in stunning time, passerby disappearing into shops or down even narrower side passages, or even just flat-out fleeing. Down here, when something looked like trouble, people cleared out.

A quick scan of the Force told her the bounty hunters hadn’t found her yet, but it would only be a matter of time. 

She took a deep breath, checking Maul’s pulse to confirm he was alive. Without any more sedative, he’d be waking up soon. At least the Force-binding cuffs were still intact. 

She couldn’t just keep going deeper. She needed a way out. Or a way to contact the Jedi.

She eyed the nearby shops, with several faces peeking out of them. The second need was easier.

Trying to make herself look as friendly as possible, she opened the nearest door—some sort of noodle shop—and slipped in, closing it silently behind her. 

Ten heads and twenty-eight eyes stared at her from various corners of the room. Nobody said a word. 

“Hi,” she said, smiling slightly. Belatedly, she slung Sing’s rifle over her shoulder. “Anyone have a comm I can borrow?” 

There was no sound except the hiss of boiling water in one of the noodle vats. One of Maul’s arms twitched. 

“I’m not trying to rob anyone,” she added. “I just need to make an emergency call.” 

Before that had any chance to sink in, the sound of Bane’s jetpack filled the alleyway, rattling the windows, and then moments later the sound of a blaster.

Immediately, Ahsoka dove behind the counter—except that wasn’t exactly what happened, first she had to toss Maul behind the counter and then she dove after him, ignoring how sticky the floor was as she took cover and grasped her rifle again. 

More blaster shots—but they didn’t sound like they were hitting anything, which meant they were firing into the air, which meant—

“Attention, good citizens of Coruscant,” boomed Cad Bane’s voice over some sort of amplifier. “There is a wanted criminal somewhere in this alleyway. Potentially inside one of these establishments. She is an armed Togruta, and she may also be carrying an unconscious Zabrak.”

Every eye in the shop swung towards her again. The Twi’lek chef also cowering behind the counter looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on the rifle and then Maul.

“Ten thousand credits to whoever turns them both in,” Bane continued.

The chef’s eyebrows went way, way up.

Oh, this wasn’t good. 

He wasn’t saying anything yet, but—Ahsoka peeked around the corner to see several of the bounty hunters passing by outside, their weapons raised. Not spotted. Yet. 

“Twenty thousand credits.” 

The chef let out an audible gasp, and then shifted like he was about to stand up. 

Ahsoka whirled around in desperation. 

“I’m not a criminal,” she hissed as urgently as she could while staying mostly quiet. “He’s the criminal—” She gestured to Maul. “He’s a mass murderer. And they’re trying to break him out of prison. I’m trying to stop them.” 

“If somebody doesn’t give her up in the next minute, we’re going to start feeling far less generous.”

“If they free him, he’s going to do horrible things,” Ahsoka said. 

Well, they wouldn’t free him, they would kill him, but that wasn’t relevant right now.

The chef glanced back at her, and then suddenly his eyes focused on something between them. 

He reached out, slowly enough that it didn’t alarm Ahsoka, and touched one of her wristguards. He said something in Huttese, a word she’d never heard. 

“What?” she said. 

He tapped her wristguard again, and repeated the word. Then he switched to Basic. 

“Dragonslayer.”

“Huh?” Ahsoka twisted her arm, inspecting the guard. “What’s…” There was something scratched into the wristguard. Someone had scratched a small, curved shape, with a lightning bolt going through the middle. 

The chef was moving again, but slowly, and in a way that clearly showed he wasn’t going to give Ahsoka away—instead, he was crouching down and dragging a mat on the ground backward. And underneath, there was a trapdoor. One which he immediately opened to reveal a staircase leading down, and he motioned her inside. 

“Hide in here,” he whispered. “It’s the least I can do for a Dragonslayer.”

There was a certain gravity to his words that made Ahsoka realize there was something very important about that symbol scratched into her armor.

“I don’t…” She trailed off as she realized she had, in fact, slayed a dragon. And the last time she’d left her armor unattended, including her wristguards… was Tatooine. After the krayt dragon.

Shmi, she knew instantly. It had to be Shmi who’d scratched this in, and it meant… something. 

She scrambled down into the cellar without another word, but just before the trapdoor was shut behind her, she turned and asked, “Why?” 

The chef paused, and then patted a spot on his ankle. “I know you will always help.” 

Then he let go of the door, but just before it slammed shut, Ahsoka caught sight of a pale white scar that stood out against the blue skin of his leg. The exact kind of scar one would get from having a slave chip removed. 

She didn’t think about it for long, though, her mind turning to the next step of escape. Find a comm as soon as the bounty hunters cleared out. Call the Temple. And then take Maul somewhere where no bounty hunters, no Sith Lords, and certainly not the Senate would be able to touch him. It occurred to her that the Citadel on Lola Sayu was now in Republic territory. Maybe—

A groan emanated from Maul, and with dismay she realized he was stirring. Those Force-deadening cuffs were still holding strong, but what she really wanted right now was a gag. 

Just to be safe, she rolled him onto his stomach and rested the muzzle of Sing’s rifle against the back of his head. 

Maul groaned again, and then his head slowly moved from side to side—she could sense he was mostly awake now. 

He was silent for a few moments, and then he chuckled hoarsely. “Now you learn that the Sith can reach anywhere, even into the Jedi Temple.”  

“If you think your master’s rescuing you, you’re delusional,” Ahsoka snapped. 

Maul’s tone turned mocking. “Then why am I in a storage room, Tano? Where is the security of the Jedi Temple?” He shifted, and Ahsoka pressed the rifle into him harder. “When you cannot contain me for even a week, how can you believe that you are safe from my wrath?” 

Ahsoka was about to fire off a snappy retort when a sharp banging echoed through the room. She froze. Someone was knocking deliberately on the trapdoor. Then, after a moment, the last voice she wanted to hear:

“We know you’re in there, Jedi. You better come out before anybody gets hurt. Bring the prisoner. In front of you.” 

There were several possible reasons why Bane had found her, and all of them made her nauseous. She stayed silent, not saying anything, and then—

“You can’t fool us anymore. I’ve got a tracker on my rifle.” 

From the sound of Sing’s tone, Ahsoka knew she wasn’t kidding. 

“Unless you come up in the next ten seconds, we’re throwing a thermal detonator down there and we really don’t care what happens after that.” 

“Throwing a thermal detonator? At a Jedi?” Ahsoka barked out a laugh. “I can just throw it right back at you!” 

A pause.

Ahsoka couldn’t help but smirk. It would’ve made things much easier if she’d let them go ahead and make that mistake, but the ensuing explosion would’ve almost certainly taken out a few of the civilians upstairs as well, and she really didn’t want that. 

“How about this?” Bane said. “We’ve got a whole bunch of civilians ready to be killed unless you’re up here in the next fifteen seconds.”

Ahsoka stiffened, and realized that she didn’t have a choice anymore. 

“Always a way to scare out a Jedi, like wild creatures flushed out of the bush during a hunt,” Maul said. His Force-presence radiated an infuriating smugness.

“Be quiet.” Her mind racing, Ahsoka yanked him to his feet, positioning him in front of her.

The trapdoor opened as soon as she set foot on the stairs, and an arsenal of blasters stared down at her. 

“I’ll take my rifle back, thanks,” Sing said. 

Ahsoka kept the rifle firmly grasped in one hand, staring up at Sing. 

“Hey, maybe if you give it back without me having to ask again, I might let you have these.” Sing waggled something in her hand, and Ahsoka’s heart stopped as she realized Sing had both of her lightsabers. Of all the—

“You lost your lightsabers to bounty hunters,” Maul said, amusement plain in his voice. 

“Give her some credit,” Sing said as Ahsoka tossed the rifle up the stairs to her. “She lost them when we crashed a ship into her.” 

“Come up. Slowly,” Bane said. “Any funny business and we’ll start shooting.”

Maul’s Force-presence suddenly shifted, suspicion spiraling out from him at those words, and Ahsoka wondered if maybe he was finally catching onto reality. And the Force was whispering to Ahsoka that there was something not entirely true about Bane’s words, and she realized she had to act now or lose everything. 

She drew on the Force and, at the exact moment that six different shots rang out, she launched Maul up the stairs and into the crowd of bounty hunters, three shots thudding into Maul in midair.

Ahsoka was braced for utter chaos, but the primal roar Maul let out as the shots hit him still managed to make her flinch, even if just briefly, and it seemed to resonate wildly through her ears as she charged up the stairs and through the crowd of weapons and bounty hunters scattered by Maul’s flying body. 

The civilians had been lined up against the wall, and it was exactly the formation Ahsoka needed them to be in—with a mighty heave of the Force, she picked the whole group up and tossed them through the storefront into the street—which would hurt, and probably injure some of them, but that was infinitely preferable to them being dead. 

Another deafening roar rattled the shop, and Maul staggered to his feet, smoking blaster wounds in his shoulder, his lower ribs, and one in the middle of his chest right where one of his hearts would be, but the flaming hatred in his eyes and the deafening scream he unleashed told her he was very much still alive—

—And one of the shots had broken the cuffs binding his legs together, because now he lowered his head and charged straight into a still-reeling Bossk and bashed him into the wall, the horns on his head sinking into Bossk’s chest with a sickening squelch. When he pulled back with a snarl and charged at the rest of the group as they got to their feet, blood dripped from his horns and Bossk did not move from where he’d fallen. 

In the still-ensuing chaos, Ahsoka picked up one of the noodle vats with the Force and heaved it sideways—Bane and Sing dodged the boiling water, but the Siniteen wasn’t so lucky, as he caught the full wave and went down screaming. 

And then Ahsoka would’ve loved to snatch her sabers out of Sing’s hands, but at that moment Maul got shot again somewhere in the leg, so she settled for Plan B, which was to unleash a wave of Force energy that knocked everyone back, pick up Maul—who appeared to be on the verge of toppling over—then toss him over her shoulders, and run. 

The street was thankfully deserted, meaning all the civilians and the chef who’d recognized the symbol had fled to safety. Ahsoka heard shots behind her, but the Force told her none of them would hit as she rounded a corner and once again jumped deeper into the lower levels. 

She landed on the roof of a slow-moving freighter, and Maul made a groaning noise as she landed. 

With a few seconds of breathing room, she shrugged Maul off and checked him over. He’d actually been hit multiple times since the opening volley, but the heart he hadn’t been shot in was still beating, even if only faintly. She had a few seconds to do a little bit of healing. Maybe? 

“Come on, you moron,” she muttered, closing her eyes. “I would kill you if I could, but I actually need you alive.” 

No response. She focused on the Force and let it flow from her into his body, focusing on the largest wounds and the most vital internal organs, and breathed a sigh of relief as she felt his condition move away from “actively dying.” Thank the Force for Zabraks having two hearts. 

She stepped back, and Maul’s eyes snapped open, but almost immediately began to close again. 

“They were… sent to kill me,” he gasped out, his voice rasping like an old man’s. “My… Master sent them to kill me.” 

“Finally you get it,” Ahsoka said, scanning the area. “He doesn’t care about you anymore.” 

Maul took a deep, rattling breath. “Not even… the dignity of killing me… himself.” 

“Yeah, that’s what happens when a Sith Lord decides you’re not useful anymore.”

“Betrayed… me.” 

Truth be told, Maul’s words were making her ecstatic. Finally some progress. Sidious might’ve just turned his most devoted underling against him, and she’d seen just how much chaos Maul could cause when he went against Sidious. But her excitement was dampened by the sound of Bane’s jetpack. 

She heaved Maul onto her shoulders again. “Yes, I know, it’s very horrible. Now be a good prisoner and stay still, will you?” She jumped off the speeder just as Bane and the remaining pursuers rounded a building.

She’d landed in some sort of busy lower-level speeder lane, which was exactly what she needed. She leapt from speeder to speeder, dodging blaster shots, sensing the distance between them and her slowly growing. All she needed to do was find a fast enough speeder to commandeer and get back to the surface— 

A speeder just behind her exploded, and Ahsoka had barely enough time to wonder what now before a rocket slammed into the speeder she was on. The explosion sent her careening downward again, nearly tearing Maul out of her grasp, but she held onto him and stabilized herself, landing heavily on solid ground. Seconds later, she dodged the burning speeder crashing just in front of her and turned to run again. Only to realize she was facing a dead end. 

When she turned again, Bane and his crew stood between her and any escape route. 

Bane now had her lightsabers on his belt, which somehow annoyed her even more than Sing having them.

“I thought the Jedi were supposed to hate the Sith,” Bane drawled, unholstering his blasters. 

Ahsoka shifted into a defensive stance and considered her options. “You can’t kill him,” she said. “He has information that’s going to save the galaxy from ruin.” 

“And that must be why he’s got the biggest bounty I’ve ever seen,” Bane said. 

“You’re going to doom the galaxy just to collect a kriffing bounty?” Ahsoka said.

“Somehow, I doubt it’s that important,” Bane said, and opened fire. 

She dove behind the crashed speeder, barely avoiding a barrage of shots, and crouched down, trying to catch her breath as she dropped Maul onto the ground. 

“Give it up, Tano.” 

Because of the actual usage of her name instead of “woman” or “whelp,” it took a second for Ahsoka to realize it was Maul talking to her.

She snorted. “You’ve got more holes in you than an asteroid, and you’re still trying to tell me you can kill me?” 

“No.” He turned his head slowly and with what appeared to be extreme effort to look at her. “I am simply stating that these bounty hunters will kill you. If I was at full strength, I could defeat them easily, but you do not even have your lightsabers.” 

“Don’t need them.” Ahsoka hastily redid the straps on one of her vambraces. She could feel Maul staring at her.

“You are going to extraordinary lengths to ensure my survival.” The Force was starting to drain away from Maul in a way that made her wonder if he was actively dying again. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, you’re way more useful to me alive.” 

“Such confidence in your pathetic abilities even when weaponless and surrounded.” 

She could sense the two sentinel droids drawing near, the blaster fire on her cover intensifying. But none of the organic bounty hunters approached. 

She rose to her feet, centering the Force on herself, and shrugged. “The only thing I’m surrounded by is fear and dead bounty hunters.” 

With that, she charged. 

She pounced directly on the first sentinel droid just as it rounded the corner, and ripped its head off its chassis before it could even fire off a shot, and then she whipped the sparking body around, thumbing the blaster around the still-twitching claws of the droid, hitting the other droid with three shots in its central photoreceptor as it turned toward her.  

 The Force alerted her to imminent danger, and she darted sideways, taking the droid’s blaster with her, and slid under a barrage of fire before running straight up the wall. Plasma bolts hissed and snapped at her heels as she sprinted sideways towards the rest of the bounty hunters, who were rapidly backing up. She sensed genuine fear coming from them at the sight of the two droids dismembered so quickly. 

Good. 

She landed in front of Dengar and dodged two shots from him before she caught the barrel of his rifle between her hands, and with a surge of Force power, she bent the barrel backwards with a crunch. 

She let Dengar stare in disbelief at the deformed blaster for a half-second, then shoved the rifle butt into his chest, sending him staggering backwards. 

Before he had a chance to recover, she jerked him upright with the Force and pulled him back toward her, closing an arm around his neck as soon as he was in reach. Now with a biological shield, she turned to face the others, tightening her grip on Dengar’s neck almost to the point of cutting off all blood flow to his head. A bit more pressure and she could knock him out near-instantly, if needed. 

“Want to surrender?” she said to Bane, who’d stopped firing. His only reply was a snarl as he reloaded his blasters. 

Dengar scrabbled madly at her arm, clawing uselessly against her armor as she scanned her remaining opponents. Behind Bane and Sing were Sugi and Embo, and even further behind were the two bounty hunters from the previous hostage crisis, and… Those two had thermal detonators hooked to their belts. Bingo. 

Dengar’s arms suddenly went limp and his head lolled sideways, which confused her because she knew she was leaving him enough room to stay conscious—

The Force pulsed a warning just as his arm became a blur of motion, and on pure instinct Ahsoka shoved his elbow away—Dengar screamed in pain as the vibroblade he’d hidden in his robes and was about to stab her with was driven into his own side—the bounty hunters opened fire again—Ahsoka threw Dengar aside and leapt away, and reached out with the Force—just a little twist—there—

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

“BANE—” one of the other bounty hunters yelled, his voice abruptly cut off by every thermal detonator on his belt exploding. 

The explosion threw Ahsoka back, but she was ready, and she landed neatly as the entire building rocked and buckled beneath her in a way that really didn’t feel stable. She sensed two less life forms than she had ten seconds ago. 

As the flames and dust cleared, the first thing she saw was Embo and Sugi struggling to stand up, the open air of the speeder lane immediately behind them. She shoved, and the Force sent them both tumbling over the edge into a long, long drop. 

Two left. 

She turned to Bane and Sing, who were having even more trouble getting to their feet. She leveled her borrowed blaster at them and raised a brow. “How about now?” 

Sing looked back and forth between Ahsoka, Bane, and the wreckage Maul was hidden behind. Then, wordlessly, she activated her jetpack and flew straight up and away. 

Bane didn’t seem concerned in the slightest by her exit. Instead, he lowered the brim of his hat slightly and raised his blasters. 

“She’s going to regret that,” he said idly, and opened fire. 

With only one opponent to focus on, Ahsoka’s style of combat changed. She simply dodged Bane’s shots, moving to one side or the other, or twisting her torso, the Force warning her of where the shots would land even before Bane was pulling the trigger. And all through the barrage, she kept walking slowly forward, her eyes narrowed and fixed on Bane. This was personal. 

This was Sidious’ favorite bounty hunter during the Clone Wars. The holocron heist, kidnapping Force-sensitive children, the endless skirmishes with the Republic, the assassination attempt on Palpatine (how she wished now that he’d succeeded though), the hostage crisis, his complete and utter disregard for sentient life, and his seemingly endless cruelty… Sidious would have one less favored pawn when she was done. 

A plasma bolt buzzed past her face, just barely skimming flesh, leaving the faintest trace of heat. It was time to end this. 

With a ferocious twist of the Force, one blaster was wrenched out of Bane’s hands. She took another step, dodged another shot, reached into the Force once again, and the other blaster went flying. 

Ahsoka kept advancing. Bane activated his wrist-mounted flamethrower, but deflecting that with a Force shield was easy. 

“Last chance to surrender,” she said, just meters from him. 

Bane paused for a moment, and then snatched her lightsabers off his belt, igniting them. “This ain’t the kind of job I can leave unfinished.” 

Ahsoka nodded as Bane fired his jetpack and launched himself at her. “I figured.” 

Time seemed to slow down as she watched him close rapidly, both lightsabers raised above his head and ready to strike, and she could feel the discontent in her crystals at how they were being used against their wielder.

Right as Bane struck, she lunged, and caught both of his wrists, stopping him dead in midair, the blades inches from her face. 

She dug her feet in as the jetpack strained against her, Bane staring with an emotion she’d never seen on his face before: disbelief. 

She shifted her grip upward and squeezed harder on the hand holding her dominant saber, harder and harder until she felt something crack and Bane grunted in pain. His hand loosened, the hilt slipping from his grasp, and Ahsoka caught it. 

As soon as it was solidly in her hand, she ignited it, sending the blade straight through Bane’s chest. 

“You were right about this being the biggest bounty you’ve ever seen,” she said to his rapidly paling face, lowering him to the ground and plucking her other lightsaber from his fingers. “The price was your life.” 

Bane made one final choked noise and went still at her feet. 

Ahsoka stared down at him for a moment, and now in the abrupt quiet she realized just how much adrenaline was flooding her body, how hard her heartbeat was echoing in her head, how much her legs ached, and she suddenly felt very, very exhausted. 

A blaster bolt whizzed over her shoulder. 

She whirled around—oh, she was really drained, she should’ve felt that shot coming—and saw the droid whose photoreceptors she’d shot standing upright again, aiming its blaster at her but moving in a curiously jerky motion. 

She blinked as she brought her lightsabers up to deflect more shots—the droid had missed an easy shot, that didn’t seem possible—and then the droid rose slowly into the air, and she saw Maul lying on the ground behind it, one arm outstretched and his entire body trembling with effort. 

Ahsoka’s brain temporarily shut down from surprise, and then she remembered she still had to do something; she leapt forward, closing the gap in an instant, and sliced through the droid’s neck.

Maul collapsed even more quickly than the droid did. Ahsoka scanned the area one last time before running over to him and checking his pulse—still alive. But in dire need of more healing. If she had any energy left. 

“Aren’t you trying to kill me?” she said, kneeling next to him and reaching into the Force once more. The building creaked ominously underneath them. 

Maul only opened his eyes a crack to reply, gasping for breath between each word. “If… it killed you… it would… kill me next.” 

“Can’t argue with that.” She honestly didn’t even know where to start the healing at this point; holding back the assassin droid might’ve put him in a worse condition than before. 

Maul opened his eyes more fully, which would’ve been encouraging except his gaze was glassy and distant, and—

“Dathomir… Dathomir…” 

“What?” Oh, he did not sound good, that voice was wavering like he was using the last of his life force to power his vocal cords. 

“Dathomir…” he muttered once more, his voice dissolving into a gravelly groan. 

Ahsoka took a deep breath and channeled the Force into Maul, and sighed with relief as she heard his rapid, almost frantic gasps turn into a more measured breathing. But just this bare minimum of healing was already making her lightheaded, and she had to pull back. She dropped her head into her lap and tried not to black out, while also wondering how long it would be before the Jedi showed up. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Ahsoka sat bolt upright. Where— 

Her eyes fell on one of the droid corpses. A trapdoor had opened on its chest, and inside was a blinking red light—

Self-destruct function. 

She grabbed Maul and sprinted towards the ledge, not even caring how far the drop below was, they just needed to GET OUT OF THERE—

She almost made it to safety. 

She woke up in possibly the last place she wanted to wake up: the halls of healing. With Vokara Che standing over her. 

She opened her mouth to say something, but Vokara beat her to it. 

“Master Koon wasn’t lying about your immunizations,” she said, tapping at a datapad in her hand. “You’ve got every antibody you need… along with quite a few I don’t recognize.” 

Ahsoka looked down at herself. All limbs intact, a bacta drip going into her arm, no real aches in her body aside from dull exhaustion, her lightsabers sitting on the bedside table… She’d come out of smaller explosions feeling worse. 

“I need to talk to the Council,” she said, starting to push her blanket off.

Vokara placed a firm hand on the lip of the blanket and sighed. “I see you’re one of those patients.” 

“It’s actually really kriffing important.” Vokara was someone Ahsoka didn’t want to get on the bad side of, but… fate of the galaxy and all that. 

“Can I convince you to stay on bed rest for at least a little longer if I tell you that Master Windu and Master Yoda are waiting outside to speak with you?” 

“Actually, yes.” She sank back into the bed. 

Vokara made a grumbling noise and spoke quietly into her comm, and a moment later the door opened, and Windu and Yoda entered. 

“Where’s Maul?” She had to ask even though she had a feeling what the answer would be. 

“No idea—” Windu made a surprised noise as a small shape darted around his legs and into the room, and Ahsoka had just enough awareness to brace for impact before Anakin, once again, barreled into her. 

“Hey, kid,” Ahsoka said, trying to hug him as best she could with a tube in her arm. Shmi followed him into the room, ignoring a muttered “this room isn’t a spaceport!” from Vokara. 

 “I hope I didn’t scare you too much,” she said to Anakin. 

Anakin looked up at her, his lip trembling slightly—oh Force that was adorable—and squeezed her midsection even tighter. “They didn’t know how long you’d be unconscious! I heard you got blown up…”

“Yeah, well… can’t keep me down for long.” She looked up at Windu and Yoda, content to talk to them with an apprentice glued to her. “Maul?”

Windu glanced at Shmi with clear reluctance. 

“They’re my apprentices,” Ahsoka said. “What you tell me, you tell them.”

Windu seemed to wrestle with that for a moment, and then he nodded and pulled up a chair as Yoda hopped up onto her bed. 

“We’ve been combing the lower levels for him the last couple days, but we haven’t turned up so much as a single footprint. What’s the last thing you remember?” 

“I was trying to get away from the explosion, and I was carrying him…” She poked through her memory, calling up the boom and then flying through the air—and Maul being torn out of her hands, falling away from her, just before everything went black. “That’s when I lost him. He was definitely alive.” 

“That’s what I was hoping you wouldn’t say,” Windu said. He paused momentarily to listen to a crackling transmission on his comm. “There’s no chance that he died and his body was stolen by someone in the lower levels, is there?” 

“Nope. Trust me, when you’ve got Sith, you can’t assume they’re dead until you’ve got their corpse on the ground in front of you. Especially when it comes to the ‘spiky, horrid little man’ variety.”

“How… descriptive.” 

“Remember that advice, we will,” Yoda said, suspiciously stonefaced.

Windu sighed. “So wherever he is—almost certainly off-planet—we’ve lost him.” 

“Not necessarily.” Ahsoka sat up straighter, more details of the last minutes before the explosion returning. “Dathomir. He’s on Dathomir. I need to go there.” 

“Dathomir?” 

“He was rambling about it. It’s the only lead we have.” And Ahsoka knew he would be on Dathomir, that was where he was from—but of course she couldn’t say that part. “Where do I get a ship?” she said, starting to get out of bed despite an outraged sound from Vokara. 

“Tano.” Windu put a hand out, stopping her. “You’re forgetting a few things.” 

She stared at him. “Like what—Oh, I’m not going alone, Shmi and Anakin are coming with me, and I’ve got some other Jedi I want coming along too, can you—”

“You’re still forgetting the important thing.” 

“What?” She looked around, and remembered she was still hooked up into an IV, and Vokara Che was still watching her archly. “I feel fine.” 

“Tano.” Windu looked genuinely unsettled now. “You killed five bounty hunters.” 

“Four. Maul killed one.” 

The look Windu and Yoda and Shmi gave her said that had maybe been the least reassuring way to respond. Yoda looked sad—was he sad for the bounty hunters or was he sad for her? She didn’t know which was worse, actually. At least Anakin looked excited about that. 

“What?” she said, more defensively. “Don’t tell me I did something wrong.” 

“Not at all; we know you were acting entirely in self-defense and to protect the prisoner. Rather, it’s…” Windu looked askance at her. “You have had to harden yourself to certain things in a way that no Jedi in this age has. Even for us, it is jarring to see.” 

Yoda nodded in assent.

“Tracking down Maul takes priority, but we’d like you to debrief the Council on what exactly happened during the fight.” Windu paused, and then his tone turned grave. “Cad Bane had previously killed two Jedi. It is not often that a Jedi’s killer is killed by another Jedi.”

As far as she could tell, the unspoken undercurrent in Windu’s words was that he didn’t know what to think of any of this, which was understandable. 

“Sure. I’ll do it on the way to Dathomir.” 

Windu paused, looked at Yoda, and then nodded to Vokara, who sighed and began removing Ahsoka’s IV. 

“We’ll have a ship ready in thirty minutes. Have you been to Dathomir?”  

“No, but my Master did. He told me what to expect.” 

“That’s more than anyone else in the Order can say. The mission is yours. Who else do you want?” 

Ahsoka opened her mouth and then stopped, wondering if this was really a good idea. Maybe it wasn’t, but every alternative was worse. 

“Master Dooku, Master Jinn, and Padawan Kenobi,” she said finally. 

“Have you gone mad?” Windu said over the sound of Yoda’s cackling.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka wasn’t sure if she was more surprised by Dooku agreeing to come along, or by Qui-Gon agreeing. And honestly, Obi-Wan joining hadn’t been a sure thing either. But all three of them were on the ship, silently watching while she was on a holoconference with the Council. They were also very pointedly not looking at each other.

At the moment though, she was paying less attention to them and more to the holocall and also the task occupying her hands as she listened: lightsaber maintenance. Lightsabers didn’t react well to being picked up by a wielder’s enemies. So she wasn’t turning her sabers on until she was sure they wouldn’t blow up in her hands. 

 She’d just finished disassembling her shoto, pieces and tools balanced on the edge of the holotable, as Windu filled in some missing details about her battle. 

“…Dengar is in custody, in a stable but critical condition. There has been no trace of Embo and Sugi, so we must assume they escaped.” 

Ahsoka nodded, gently tapping the shoto’s crystal with her fingernails to check for imperfections. “I wasn’t sure if I killed them. They could’ve survived the fall, so they probably figured it was smart to stay away.” 

She wouldn’t trust any bounty farther than she could throw one, but she at least remembered working with Embo and Sugi on Felucia that one time, and Sugi did have a hand in saving her from the Trandoshans, even if it was a paid hand. There were worse bounty hunters to be loose in the galaxy. As for Aurra Sing, well… She had good survival instincts. Hopefully that would mean she’d never work for Sidious. 

“Bane, Bossk, and Dengar were three of the Republic’s most wanted criminals,” Windu said. “The others are not far off. Four bounty hunters dead. Six if you count the two droids, but we’re not sure if they were independent bounty hunters or just under Bane’s control. Either way… They were a formidable group. Prepared to face me. And you dispatched them like they were nothing.” 

Testing one of the circuits revealed a loose connection. “Yes,” she said, reaching for the precision welder. 

The Council exchanged silent looks as Ahsoka deftly re-welded the circuit. They were very clearly having an internal conversation about her. And Plo was looking at her with immense concern and maybe even apprehension. She often wondered what went through his head at moments like this. 

“Did you get anything out of Dengar?” she said to Windu.

“He hasn’t regained consciousness yet. The only thing we can be certain of is the employer—Darth Sidious.” 

The name seemed to echo through the cabin, leaving a chill which Ahsoka refused to shiver at. She put down her welder and stared directly at Dooku through the holograms, almost daring him to have a reaction to that name. He made no outward reaction. His expression as troubled as it’d ever been since setting foot on the ship. 

“As for the hostage crisis—”

Oh. Right. She’d completely forgotten that’d happened too. 

“They surrendered after a few hours when they realized the other half of their team was taken out. Two casualties, both Senate Guards.” 

She inclined her head, thinking of the guards the bounty hunters had shot down in cold blood. “I’m sorry.” 

“The pilots and the surviving guard from your ship are expected to recover,” Windu said, as if sensing what she was thinking of. “The guard was particularly eager to tell us that you saved him from being killed despite being weaponless and outnumbered.” 

Ahsoka turned her reassembled shoto over in her hands, feeling the once-again comfortable glow of the crystal. Her reply was almost reflexive. “A Jedi always has the Force.”

The Council fell into silence, and even after all this time, there was still a tiny part of her that was desperate for the Council’s approval. And that tiny part was being very loud right now. It was making her wonder what the Council thought of her right now. Did they only see a killer? 

She put a mental wall around those thoughts, shunted them sideways before somebody else noticed, and looked down at her lightsabers very intently.

“There is a Sith operating without restraint in the Republic,” Depa Billaba said, her voice heavy with discontent. “Masters, we need to examine ourselves and ask what we have done to let things come to this point.” 

Ahsoka nodded, and pounced on the opening. “And what you haven’t done. How many people in the Outer Rim think the Jedi are just a myth?” 

She didn’t wait long for a reply, only pausing long enough to disassemble her main saber—a task she could do with surprising speed. “Too many,” she finished. “You don’t realize it, but we’re playing right into the Sith’s hands. You know what they want? Discontent. Strife. And what leads to those things? Suffering. I don’t know what else our mysterious Sith Lord has done besides Naboo, but I bet a lot of suffering in the galaxy can be traced to him.” She briefly swiveled to Dooku, arching her brow, perhaps with an insultingly obvious amount of emphasis, but it was better to assume Dooku was stupid than to have him not pick up on her point. She pried off the cover for the emitter control.  “Master Yoda, I have a question for you.”

Yoda’s ears tilted towards her. 

“Would you say it seems as if the situation in the galaxy has worsened with each successive generation?” 

“Hmmm.” He dropped his head down in thought as the rest of the Council watched him closely. 

“I think Master Dooku would say so,” she added, hearing a huff from him as she wondered how much it annoyed him that he wasn’t part of this conversation. 

Finally, Yoda lifted his head and nodded. “Increasing darkness in the galaxy, there is. It has crept in over the centuries.” 

A murmur swept through the Council. 

She nodded, tapping the opened emitter against the table to knock out some metal dust. “So for the citizens who have seen a Jedi, who are they going to blame for the galaxy’s problems?”

A brief pause, and then Adi Gallia spoke sharply. “Us.” 

“Yes. Just like Master Dooku does.” Ahsoka said, gesturing at him with her empty saber hilt. “He’s a perfect example of how anybody can be hoodwinked into thinking the Jedi are the problem.”

“I beg your pardon—” Dooku rose to his feet, but she kept talking like he hadn’t said anything. 

“If things keep going like this, Sidious might be able to tear down the Order without ever laying a hand on us.” Which was exactly what he’d done. 

Inspection of her saber over, she started reassembling it, while a quick dive into her knowledge of her cover story gave her what she needed next. “The Sith of my time sacked planets with armies of red-lightsaber-wielding soldiers, destroyed stars, proclaimed themselves conquering emperors. But the Sith of this time are way more difficult. Because it was easy for the galaxy to oppose the Sith of my time. But here… we’re fighting a ghost. And he’s doing a fantastic job making the galaxy think we’re the enemy.” 

She loudly clicked a circuit back into place and stared down the holograms of the Council. An uneasy silence fell. And then, Obi-Wan’s voice pierced the despair. 

“So what do we do?” 

“I’m glad you asked!” Ahsoka smacked her hand down on the holotable, making everyone jump. “Master Dooku’s got about one-fourth of the solution, I’ll give him that much. The Jedi can do more. The Jedi need to do more. We need to be helping everywhere. We need to help without being asked. We most certainly need to be helping without waiting for a request from a senator.”  

“So you believe the Jedi should be more efficiently cleaning up the Sith Lord’s messes?” Dooku said, his tone suddenly derisive. “That is your plan to save the Order and the galaxy?” 

“Didn’t your master teach you to let someone finish talking before responding?” Ahsoka snapped, knowing full well that Yoda was Dooku’s master. A choked noise from somewhere on the call told her she was not the only one who thought of that.

“Answer my question, Tano,” Dooku said stonily. 

Ahsoka gave him a feral grin, letting her fangs slip out from behind her lips. “That’s half the plan. The other half is me. I’m going to destroy the Sith.” 

She spoke with such conviction that Dooku stepped back. Ahsoka turned back to the Council without another word. 

“So, Masters, you need to tell me if anything bad, weird, or inexplicable happens to a Jedi. Because chances are, the Sith are involved, and I need every lead I can get to track them down. Honestly, if anything weird in general happens, tell me.”

Well, she didn’t need to do any ‘tracking down,’ Palpatine was right there, but she did need evidence. Which was close enough.

A fiercely contested discussion followed, ending with yet another vote which barely passed seven to five, and then Windu and Yoda nodded. 

“It will be done,” Windu said. “You will be privy to any information we have in relation to the Sith. As for what we can do… The Council has much to discuss.” 

Ahsoka tightened the last screw on her lightsaber’s outer shield and patted it. Good as new. “My suggestion: just go out and do stuff whether or not you have the authorization to do it!” she said brightly. “The only ones who care about the legality is the Senate, and how exactly are they going to stop you?” 

Without waiting for a reply, she reached for the disconnect switch. “I’ll contact you after we reach Dathomir.” She shut off the holoprojector and stepped back, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Kriff, talking to the Council really did take a lot out of her. Even when it went well. 

She started to undo her vambraces, and realized all three Jedi in the room were still staring at her. Dooku looked like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. Qui-Gon had a completely indecipherable emotion written all over his face. Obi-Wan was just flat-out impressed. 

“What?” she said. 

“Why did you choose us?” Qui-Gon said. 

“Why did you come?” Ahsoka shot back.

While Qui-Gon chewed on that reply, she considered the three before her. It was hurting her head a little bit to have most of her living lineage together on a ship with her. Dooku (who she hadn’t met on account of being a Sith) had trained Qui-Gon (who she hadn’t met on account of being dead), who had trained Obi-Wan (who didn’t know her anymore), who had trained Anakin (who didn’t know her anymore), who had trained Ahsoka (and now there was two of her) who was training Anakin (and trying not to mess it up). And Shmi (who she hadn’t met on account of being left behind on Tatooine). That wasn’t hard to wrap her mind around at all. At least Yoda (impossible to read) wasn’t here. 

“I've sparred with Dooku, and you two have fought by my side in a lightsaber battle, which means you’ve got more battle synergy with me than anyone else in the Order,” she said when no answer was forthcoming from any of them. “But also. Dooku’s here because I don’t trust him if he’s out of my sight. Qui-Gon, you’re here because you need to talk to your Padawan about how you abandoned him for somebody you thought was more important, and I’ll make the two of you talk come hell or high water. Obi-Wan, you’re here because—Well, you’re fine. No issues. But you need to be around Qui-Gon if he’s going to talk to you.” She crossed her arms. “Satisfied?” 

Dooku’s expression hadn’t changed (something was very wrong if he didn’t already realize she distrusted him); Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon looked rather appalled. 

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, staring at him in something rapidly shifting into sorrow. “You think I abandoned you?” 

“Why did you say that?” Obi-Wan said to her. 

“And I’ll let the two of you take it from here,” Ahsoka said, heading for the door. It wasn’t until she turned to close it behind her that she realized Dooku had followed.

“You take me for a fool,” he said. 

Ahsoka walked briskly towards the utility cabinets. “Because you are. Your plan is to run to the man who’s setting things on fire and ask him for a bucket of water.”

“Your perspective is far too simple.” 

“Except you don’t really want the water,” Ahsoka said. She could sense Dooku standing directly behind her. She whipped around and jabbed her unignited lightsaber hilt into Dooku’s chest, leaving it pressed firmly. “You want the fire.” 

Dooku said nothing, his eyes focused on the saber at his chest. 

“But what makes you think the man with the fire will share it? Be careful playing with forces beyond your control.” It was said in the exact tone she would use if she was admonishing a child for playing with matches.

Then she lowered her hilt and opened a storage cabinet, dropping the borrowed tools back inside.

“Why do you want the fire? What does it say about you? If you want to survive, think about it.” 

She didn’t really have much hope that introspection for Dooku would lead him to better choices, but… at least it would keep him occupied, hopefully buying her enough time to fully figure him out. She already had a better understanding of him, but it felt like she was still missing a piece. A very important piece. 

I wish I was better at the whole ‘figuring people out’ thing.

“I’m going to the cockpit to talk to my apprentices.” She brushed past Dooku. “And you’re not invited, so shoo.” 

Even though it was a short trip to the cockpit, memories bubbled up in her head as she walked down the hall. It’d been a long time since she was in a T-6 shuttle. The standard ship for Jedi missions until the second half of the Clone Wars, at which point they’d been replaced by faster, better armored ships with more weapons. Well, ‘more’ weapons being any weapons. She hadn’t remembered that unfortunate detail about the T-6 being completely unarmed until they were an hour into hyperspace and she’d started looking for turret controls. 

In the cockpit, she found Anakin and Shmi as she’d left them: Gazing up at the swirling brilliance of hyperspace, their Force-presences pulsing with equal amounts of awe. Anakin’s head rested against Shmi. Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile as she settled into the captain’s seat. “Majestic, isn’t it?” 

“It’s so cool,” Anakin breathed, never taking his eyes off the viewports. “I didn’t know being a pilot could be this awesome.” 

“I went through hyperspace when I was much younger,” Shmi said. “However, I was being taken to Tatooine by my captors, and I did not see any of this. Now, looking out at this, with a new future and infinite possibilities… I’ve never felt more joyful.” She turned in her chair and gave Ahsoka a wide smile. 

She looked like a completely different person in her Jedi robes. To see Shmi, who usually kept her emotions reserved and her smiles small, being so expressive… It was like a beam of starlight shining into Ahsoka’s soul. 

The Force glowed brightly around the three of them, and in that moment, it was the most sure she’d been since waking up on Tatooine that she was taking the best path. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Ahsoka pulled herself and looked at the blinking navcomputer. “Oh. We’re approaching Dathomir.” Reaching over and flipping a series of switches, she swung the captain’s chair forwards and nodded to Shmi and Anakin. “Strap in. We don’t know what we’ll face when we drop into realspace.” Followed by her hollering into the ship’s loudspeaker: “Dathomir time! I want everyone in the cockpit with their heads up and ready for anything, we could be landing on a planet full of Sith for all I know!” 

Moments later, Obi-Wan entered the cockpit, holding a hand to one ear. “I don’t know if loudspeakers were invented in your time, but the whole point of one is that you don’t have to shout into them to be heard.” 

“I’d rather have your eardrums vibrate a little bit harder than have you not know what’s going on, kid,” Ahsoka said, turning her attention back to the navcomputer. “—How did the conversation with Qui-Gon go?” she added before he could object to being called ‘kid’ again. 

“Well, uh…” Obi-Wan shrugged. “We didn’t really… talk about anything? We just kind of stared at each other and every time I tried to say something I lost my nerve.”  

Oh, come on. Well, this was Obi-Wan. Maybe she should’ve expected that.

Qui-Gon chose that moment to join them, ending any chance of getting more details from Obi-Wan. Still, she sensed a slight difference in how the Force moved between them—at least they’d taken the step of starting to acknowledge the issues between them. 

The last member of their party walked in at a sedate pace and spoke. “Do you even know where on the planet we need to go?” 

“Nice of you to join us, Master Dooku,” Ahsoka said, laying a preparatory hand on the throttle. “The Force will guide us.” 

Dooku snorted derisively. 

“Dropping out of hyperspace in three, two, one…” 

The streaking light all around them juddered to a halt, the sky abruptly resolving itself into fixed points of light, and the rosy surface of Dathomir appeared. 

Immediately, a wave of darkness slammed into Ahsoka’s senses.

Anakin cried out, Qui-Gon and Dooku flinched, Obi-Wan stumbled sideways into a seat, Shmi hunched over as if shielding herself from a blow, and through the cacophony of movement Ahsoka threw her mental shields up, gritted her teeth, and kept the ship steady. 

“What…” Dooku trailed off into a stunned silence and moved to the front of the cockpit, peering out as if he expected to see some enormous inferno on the planet’s surface. 

“It… feels like Naboo,” Obi-Wan managed, slowly getting back up. “But… worse.” 

“That’s because it is worse,” Ahsoka said. “Naboo was conventional weapons. But this… this is the Dark Side.” 

The ship vibrated unnaturally. 

“The witches?” Qui-Gon said.

“No,” Ahsoka said. “The Nightsisters have been here for thousands and thousands of years. But this is new. This darkness feels raw.” 

They all watched Dathomir rising bigger and bigger, and Ahsoka began to notice dark… smears on the surface, like some colossal artist had haphazardly dragged an enormous black paintbrush across the planet. 

“Something terrible happened here,” Shmi said quietly. 

“Darth Maul did this?” Dooku said. 

“…No,” Ahsoka said after thinking for a moment. “I fought him. Defeated him. He doesn’t have the ability to do this.” 

She could think of someone who did have that ability, though. Especially when immense Dark Side power clashed with the chaos of Nightsister magick. 

“I think our big fish got here first,” she said, pulling back on the throttle ever so slightly. “Sidious.” 

Everyone, even Dooku, tensed upon hearing the name. 

“Do we… turn back?” Obi-Wan’s voice was full of uncertainty, and it took Ahsoka a few moments to realize everyone in the cockpit was looking at her to make the decision. 

“No.” She reached out with the Force, and found none of the roiling maelstrom she would expect if an undisguised Sidious was still on the planet. Besides, he wasn’t the type to linger. “The worst thing we’ll have to deal with is Maul. If he’s still alive.” She also… didn’t feel any trace of Maul, but she wasn’t going to say that aloud just yet. She pressed the throttle forward again and dove toward the planet’s surface. 

The lines of darkness on the planet seemed to converge on one point in particular, and it was that which Ahsoka steered towards, the cockpit silent as everyone watched the surface grow closer.

A whimper floated across the cockpit, and Ahsoka spun to see Anakin curled up in Shmi’s lap, shaking uncontrollably. Shmi herself had her eyes squeezed shut as she held onto Anakin tightly. 

“It hurts…” Anakin whispered. 

Oh, kriff. Ahsoka jumped out of her chair. “Obi-Wan, pilot us to that settlement on the surface,” she said before kneeling next to Anakin and Shmi and taking a deep breath. 

Okay. This was her first real test of whether she could train a Padawan. She laid a hand on his and Shmi’s shoulders, pulsing reassurance through the Force. 

“I know it hurts,” she said, her words meant for both apprentices. “The Dark Side of the Force hurts for every Jedi. That’s what happens when someone twists the Force into something it shouldn’t be—the Force nourishes life, helps it to prosper in all its forms and shapes—and a Dark Sider takes all that and makes it into unnatural destruction and suffering and ruin. It’s one of the things all Jedi learn to deal with.” 

“How do we do anything when it’s here?” Anakin said. 

That was a question Ahsoka had asked herself many times, and although she wasn’t sure if she had a good answer for herself, she sure needed a good one for Anakin. 

“You remember it’s not always going to be this way,” she said, her words coming out slowly, gaining sureness. “There’s always going to be people who do things to counteract it, who bring back life and vibrance. And although anyone can do it, we as Jedi are at the forefront of those who fight against the darkness. Just remember, sometimes all it takes is one person to push back an entire galaxy of darkness.” 

Like herself. 

Anakin nodded, still sniffling. “We’re going to make it better. Because we’re Jedi. That’s good.” Then he frowned. “But… it still hurts.” 

“I can help with that. There’s a thing Jedi do called shielding.”

A thing which Anakin had been an awful teacher of—most of her shielding knowledge came from Obi-Wan, and from figuring it out herself during years on the run.  

She glanced up at Shmi. “This will help you, too. It’s usually one of the first things Jedi learn.” 

She held out her hands to Anakin and Shmi, who each took hold of one. 

“Imagine yourself as a rock,” she began, letting the Force flow between them in a cycle, from her to Shmi to Anakin to her and back again. “You’re in the middle of a raging river. There is water flowing all around you. It may even be over your head. But the water flows around you, and it doesn’t move you. And if the water does get so powerful that it moves you, you’ll find a more stable place to land, where it’ll be even harder for the water to move you again.” 

With a gentle push, she sent her own energy into them, giving them assistance. 

“The Dark Side is the raging river. And we are the rocks. We will endure.” 

She felt the tension go out of Shmi’s grip, and Anakin’s shaking slowed almost to a stop. 

“How do you feel?” 

The landing thrusters fired, signaling the ship was landing. 

Anakin took a deep, shaky breath and gave her a somewhat teary smile. “Way better.” 

“As do I,” Shmi said. 

“Wonderful.” Ahsoka clapped her hands together. “So! Ready to track down a Sith?” 

“Yeah!” 

The three of them got back to their feet, and Ahsoka turned back to the others. They’d landed in a clearing just outside the settlement she’d seen from the sky. Well, what had used to be a settlement. The ground was scorched black as far as she could see in both directions, and the houses and huts which made up the settlement were reduced to burnt husks, most of them collapsed. 

And this was just what she could see from the inside of the ship.

“Let’s get moving. We won’t find anything if we stay here.” She patted Artoo’s dome as she moved past. “Stay with the ship, buddy. Don’t let anyone steal it.” 

Artoo whistled eagerly. 

“You are not authorized to use lethal methods!” she added over her shoulder.

Dooku gave Artoo a dubious look, and then followed the rest of them toward the boarding ramp. 

“You have a peculiar astromech,” he said. 

“He’s easier to deal with than you. At least I can actually trust him.” She turned her attention to the outside world as the ramp lowered with a hiss of steam.

She was prepared for the darkness. She was prepared for the stifling heat. But what she was not prepared for was the smoke. 

It hung in the air like debris floating in space after a battle, and clung to the inside of her nostrils and her lungs like she was breathing adhesive, and from the way breathing in felt, it seemed as if the planet had been burned to the core. 

She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, and squinted at the desolate village. And then she saw a body on the ground. The body of a Zabrak.

She broke into a run, but even before she’d gotten halfway, she knew it wasn’t Maul just from the very different skin coloration. Still, she inspected the body just to see what had happened to him, and it was unfortunately obvious. A lightsaber wound, where someone had slashed through his chest with perfect accuracy to take out both of his hearts in one swing. And that confirmed it. 

“Lightsaber marks,” she said to the others as they came up alongside. “Maul doesn’t have a lightsaber. This was Sidious.” 

“What in the Force would he want here?” Qui-Gon said, looking around. “The Dathomirians aren’t particularly powerful. The Order has left them to their own devices for millennia; it’s not as if they would be a threat.” 

“The problem is you’re not thinking like a Sith,” Ahsoka said. “Although. More importantly, his former apprentice who he’s actively trying to kill was also headed here.”

“But who was the victor?” Dooku said. 

“We’ll see. Let’s—” Ahsoka broke off, feeling a tingle in the Force. “Huh.” She looked around, and got back to her feet. “We’re being watched.” 

The other Jedi cast glances around in confusion, while Anakin looked somewhere off to their left, furrowing his brow.

“No idea where they are, or what they’re thinking of doing with us, but someone’s definitely got eyes on us right now,” she added.

“Over there!” Anakin said suddenly, pointing. 

He was pointing to a grove of burned-out trees, more barren sticks than anything else at this point, which were devoid of any sign of life and also could not have concealed anything larger than a loth-cat. 

Ahsoka squinted fruitlessly, and shrugged. “Well, whoever it is, they’ve got some tricks up their sleeve. Let’s keep moving.” 

They continued further into the settlement, and soon it wasn’t only Nightbrothers that they were seeing, but Nightsisters also lying in the streets, lightsaber wounds littering their bodies, limbs missing and their expressions frozen in fear. And the more dead bodies Ahsoka saw, the worse she felt about what’d happened here. Had anyone survived? 

Dooku bent down on one knee to inspect a peculiar yellowish burn on the ground. He was still for a moment, hovering a hand over the scar in the dirt, and then stood slowly, his expression contemplative.

Ahsoka didn’t like that look, especially not on his face. 

“Such power,” Dooku said after a prolonged silence, quietly enough that only Ahsoka heard it. 

“Power to do what?” she growled. “What could Sidious build with this kind of power? And maybe he’ll just turn that power against you. After all—” She cast her hand in a wide arc around them. “—This is what the Dark Side does to other Darksiders.”

“I would prove my worth to him.”

Ahsoka snorted, and shoved aside a downed tree with a flick of the Force. “Keep telling yourself that.”

She was pretty sure she’d zeroed in on her missing piece of Dooku: What did Dooku want? Sure, he’d said he wanted to remake the galaxy, destroy corruption and rot in the Republic, blah blah blah, but why? What had brought him to this point? There were thousands of Jedi who’d witnessed the immense failings of the Republic without falling to the Dark Side. What made Dooku different? 

Maybe he was just an idiot. 

Approaching one house that still seemed relatively intact aside from the door being blown off, she peered inside, only to see an archer lying on the ground inside—and what looked like one of her own arrows embedded in her chest. 

It was… exactly Sidious’s style to stop an arrow mid-flight and kill the archer by sending it back at her. 

She kneeled down for a closer look, and then recoiled as, for one moment, the face looked horribly familiar. It took her a moment to compose herself as she realized she was not staring at the corpse of Asajj Ventress—this was only a woman who looked like her. 

Ventress. Force, where was she? All she knew was that Ventress hadn’t grown up on Dathomir, and… that was it, really. This woman on the ground looked like she could’ve been Ventress’s mother. And maybe she was. 

She silently added “find Ventress” to her endless list of things to do as she rejoined the group. 

“This was a massacre,” Qui-Gon said, shaking his head. “Whoever our Sith Lord is, the witches didn’t stand a chance against him.” He looked askance at Ahsoka. “Do you think we’ll find anything here?” 

At that moment, Shmi spoke for the first time in a long while. “If there are survivors, they won’t be here. There’s no shelter. They would be somewhere that survived the destruction.” She raised her head, shading her eyes against the sunlight with a hand. “I think there might be caves at the base of that ridge. We should look there.” 

When they left the village behind, the trek to the caves was a long one with no path, and navigating with the Force was made confusing by the ebb and flow of the Force on Dathomir, so they were going on sight alone. Which meant sometimes they dipped into a small valley and came out on the other side somehow going in the complete opposite direction. So it was a relief when they crested the last small hill and saw the ridge looming up before them, and what was even more exciting was the fresh footprints Ahsoka could see in the soil ahead. 

She kneeled down, inspecting them. “Someone’s been here in the last few hours. Can—”

There was a SNAP-twang and on instinct she dropped to the ground, not a moment too soon because something big and white whistled over her head. From behind her, Dooku shouted in surprise. 

She whirled around and saw that some sort of giant spiderweb had landed on the ground, trapping Dooku and Qui-Gon (presumably, she couldn’t really see through) underneath it; their forms were struggling madly against the webs but appeared to be having no success at all. 

“Dooku! Qui-Gon! Can you hear me?” she shouted, scrambling for cover behind a boulder. 

In response, she heard a muffled yelling which she couldn’t really understand at all, but it at least proved they could breathe. 

“Don’t move, I’ll figure out a way to free you as soon as—” Another spiderweb whistled overhead, fortunately missing them. “—Just sit tight!” She looked back at Shmi and Obi-Wan, who had taken shelter behind the same boulder. “Well, they know we’re here! How do we let them know we’re friendly?!” 

“You don’t look friendly.” 

Ahsoka let out an extremely undignified yelp, because directly in front of her an entire head and shoulders had popped out of the boulder and just started talking.  

“YENNA! We said wait to spring the ambush!” 

It was a credit to just how shocked she was that she barely reacted when a ring of Nightsisters popped out of nowhere around them with weapons drawn. Although, it didn’t seem to be the most disciplined attack, given that they’d given themselves away to yell at the girl who was sticking her head out of a boulder like it was a perfectly normal thing. 

“Surrender or leave at once, Jedi!” one of the Nightsisters declared, brandishing a glowing purple sword. “We have you surrounded!” 

Ahsoka was noticing a few things that seemed… off. Their weaponry was a little haphazard—one of the Nightsisters had dual blades which did not match, and another had only one arrow in her quiver. Some of the Nightsisters seemed smaller than she was expecting. And their apparent leader sounded like a teenager. 

Oh. This was—

“Are you the only ones left?” Shmi said softly, apparently having reached the same conclusion at the same time. 

The lead Nightsister’s sword wavered ever so slightly, and then she snarled. “So what if we are? We know more magick than all of you combined, and we will make you regret ever coming here!” 

“We don’t want any trouble,” Ahsoka said hastily. Then, some gears turning in her head, she continued. “We’re also not leaving, so… I guess we’re surrendering.” She laid her lightsabers down next to her and raised her hands in the air.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan hissed.

“They probably know what happened here,” Ahsoka whispered. “But they’ll never tell us unless they feel safe, and what’s the best way for them to feel safe around us? If we’re their prisoners. So put down your lightsaber.” 

“I can’t believe this makes sense,” Obi-Wan muttered, before reluctantly placing his saber on the ground and raising his hands. 

Immediately, the Nightsisters sprang forward. Someone yanked a hood of rough cloth down over Ahsoka’s head, and then someone else rapidly tied her hands behind her back with some sort of twine which was oddly cold to the touch. However, she could still get a good picture of what was going on with her montrals, which told her that Obi-Wan had received the same treatment. But when someone went to put bindings on Shmi, she recoiled and spat a word in Huttese at them, which led to a short conversation between her and another Nightsister that Ahsoka couldn’t make out, and that resulted in neither Shmi nor Anakin having their hands bound as the Nightsisters led them up towards the base of the ridge. 

Her montrals became hazy beyond a certain distance, so she couldn’t say for sure where exactly they were being led, but it was definitely into a cave on the ridge, then down a series of increasingly narrow passageways, until they came to a large enclosure. There, they were prodded into a group, their backs all to each other, and made to sit down. 

Ahsoka sensed more moving in and out of range, heard hushed exchanges, a few curious hissing sounds, and then finally, someone crouched down in front of her and pulled the sack off her head. 

It was the same Nightsister who’d ordered them to surrender. Now she’d pulled down her hood and mask, which meant Ahsoka could see… oh Force, she was young, she couldn’t have been much older than she’d been during the Clone Wars. Her eyes glittered with fierce anger, but there were far too many lines of exhaustion in her face, and even by Dathomirian standards she looked pale, as if she hadn’t slept in a week. Which was probably accurate. Her hair was in a mostly spiky mohawk, except for some strands at the front drooping into her face.

“Who are you?” Mohawk said. Behind her, there were several more Nightsisters silhouetted against the torchlight, with arrows notched and aimed at them

“Ahsoka Tano, Jedi Knight.” 

“And them?” Mohawk indicated Shmi, Anakin, and Obi-Wan with a jerk of her head. 

“Shmi and Anakin are my apprentices. And Obi-Wan is a fellow Jedi.”

“Hm.” Mohawk briefly glanced at Shmi and Anakin with a mostly neutral expression, but as soon as her gaze landed on Obi-Wan, her lip curled and she gave him a sneer before turning back to Ahsoka. 

Ah, right. The Nightsisters very much preferred men to be subordinates, which… that could be a problem. 

“And the two men outside?” Mohawk said. 

Ahsoka’s mind raced. She had to avoid antagonizing them any more, so she needed to make Dooku and Qui-Gon seem like her subordinates somehow… “They’re my servants.” 

Obi-Wan broke into a sudden, loud coughing fit. 

“Good,” Mohawk said. “Now tell us what you’re doing here.” 

“We’re looking for somebody. We think he’s the person who did this to your people.”

Mohawk squinted suspiciously. “How do you know what you’re looking for is the one who…” She trailed off, her voice cracking ever so slightly. 

Ahsoka saved her from having to finish that sentence. “Because there’s only one person in the galaxy with this kind of power. And he’s our enemy, too. Given the chance, he’d do to the Jedi what he did to you.”

No response. 

“We want to kill him. Can you tell us what happened?” 

Mohawk stared at Ahsoka before stepping back and conferring quietly with the others in tones Ahsoka couldn’t make out until one of them said, her voice agitated: 

“Maybe we should tell them, Luce.” 

“Shut up!” Mohawk—real name apparently Luce—snapped, before whirling to Ahsoka. “He’s not here. He’s gone. Go look for him somewhere else, and be lucky you’re leaving with your life.” 

Shmi spoke up. “And then what?”

Luce scowled at her. “I don’t know. That’s your problem, not ours.” 

Shmi shook her head. “I meant, what happens to you? Will you and what remains of the Nightsisters be able to live here, by yourselves?”

“What do you care?” 

“We’re Jedi. Our purpose is to help others,” Shmi said. 

“Your help won’t be much of anything now.” 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stop him,” Ahsoka said. “We didn’t know he’d be here until it was too late. But I can still track him down. And I can kill him. I can be your vengeance.” She raised her head, meeting Luce’s piercing gaze and returning it with equal intensity. “But you have to tell me what happened.” 

Luce’s expression shifted into something unreadable. Ahsoka watched her carefully. She had the ever-so-slightly-strained voice and just-a-little-too-stiff demeanor of someone who was being forced into a role that should’ve been filled by someone much older than her. 

How could Ahsoka recognize that so easily? Simple, that was exactly the situation she’d been in for all of her teenage years. 

And she would do anything to make sure anyone like her didn’t have to go through that again. 

“You don’t have to face this alone,” she said. 

Luce spun away and clutched the sword at her belt tighter, tighter, so tightly Ahsoka thought she might hurt herself—and then nodded. 

“I’ll tell you. But only you.” She nodded to another Nightsister. “Talia, take her to the shrine. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Talia nodded and pulled Ahsoka up—with much more gentleness than a few minutes ago—and ushered her down a side passage. She was led past rock walls painted with murals of blood-red paint, strange symbols etched into the floor, all the while having the way lit by a comfortable glow which seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. At one point, the Force pinged in her head, and she looked to her left to see a pair of wide eyes peering out at her from a side room. It was a Dathomirian toddler, just barely able to stand up, but she was leaning against the doorframe and staring intently at Ahsoka.

“Go back to sleep, Merrin,” Talia hissed, and then they rounded a corner, the child disappearing from view. When Ahsoka looked forwards again, they were standing at a dead end. 

Talia stepped forward and pressed her hand against the wall. A glowing white triangular sigil rose out of the wall, wrapping around her wrist, and began to spin slowly as she muttered under her breath. The ground began to vibrate—

And the sigil abruptly sank back into the wall, the vibrating ceasing. Talia cursed, loudly. 

Ahsoka almost asked sarcastically if that was supposed to happen, but she immediately realized someone with far more experience should’ve been opening this, except that anyone with more experience than Talia was probably dead. She kept her mouth shut.

When Talia tried the sigil again, Ahsoka gave the Force a little nudge—Nightsister magick was just a different aspect of the Force, so Talia could probably use the help, right? 

This time, there wasn’t any vibration—the stone slab in front of them simply shot upwards with terrifying speed and crashed into the ceiling. 

Ahsoka and Talia stared at it with equal surprise as she was let in. Note to self: be careful mixing even small amounts of Jedi and Nightsister ability.  

It wasn’t until she was inside when she realized where she’d been taken. They were in a cavern of hundreds of natural stalagmites, and on each stalagmite was a Nightsister’s hood. Lanterns were interspersed throughout, and at the base of each stalagmite were weapons, clothing, effigies, personal items, and on and on.

It wasn’t just any shrine. It was a shrine for Dathomir’s fallen. 

Ahsoka walked slowly up to the nearest stalactite, and noticed the hood placed on it had burn marks. She turned to ask Talia about the shrine, but she was gone. 

It seemed almost to stretch on farther than she could see, and the Force echoed through the chamber, bouncing off rock and cloth. It made her head spin. All of them… gone. 

“He was here before.” 

Ahsoka spun at the sound of Luce’s voice. Somehow, she’d crept up behind her unnoticed, and was standing over a smaller stalagmite, trailing her hand across the cloth placed there. 

“Who?” 

“The hooded man who did this.” Luce inclined her head for Ahsoka to follow, and walked deeper into the cavern. “He came here for years before. He made deals with Mother Talzin. I didn’t like him.” 

Ahsoka nodded. Those few sentences were enough to give her a hundred more questions, but she stayed silent, watching Luce pick her way through the shrine, a purposeful direction apparent in her steps. 

“I didn’t know anything about him. Mother Talzin didn’t talk about him with anyone other than the most senior Sisters, and I never heard him speak a word. He never even showed his face. His visits were never frequent, but it’d been a long time since I saw him. Until a few days ago.” 

Luce came to a stop in front of what had to be the largest stalagmite in the cavern, reaching so far up beyond the lanterns’ light that its point was indistinguishable from the ceiling. This one had a set of tattered red robes laid carefully at its base, and further up it was painted with black and white colors, creating a ghostly face that looked over them. 

“He was angry. You could feel the anger when his ship flew over us.” She took in a deep, shaky breath. “I’ve never felt anger like that from anyone. Mother Talzin must’ve been expecting him, because she’d already brought a man out from one of the Nightbrother villages, but I don’t think she expected how angry he was. As soon as his ship flew overhead, her mood changed. She called all the Nightsisters to the center of the village, and sent word to the Nightbrothers to bring all their warriors as fast as possible, and then she told all the youngest Nightsisters to go hide in the caves, as far in as we could go without getting lost. She sounded… tense.” 

“Do you know what happened after that?” 

Luce shook her head. “I was the oldest of the youngest, so I was in charge of the kids. We sealed the entrance up behind us, and stayed together in one room, all of us listening—I don’t know what we were listening for, or how long it was—and then everything started shaking. There was dust raining down on us, and that started the kids crying, and the babies wouldn’t stop screaming, and then there was… I don’t even know what to call it except a roar. It sounded like a mythosaur, and it just kept getting louder and louder and it came up through all of us and shook our bones like the thing making that noise was right in there with us, and it… it almost felt like a storm.” 

She reached out to the mural, scraping her finger around the edge, and withdrew a finger now blackened with paint, which she daubed on either side of her face, leaving a teardrop shape under each eye.

“And then it stopped more suddenly than a lightning strike. We were waiting for one of our sisters to come tell us it was safe to leave… for days. It took us a long time to realize no one was coming. I don’t think any of us wanted to believe Mother Talzin, the most powerful being any of us had ever known, could be… killed.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ahsoka said, those two words feeling hopelessly inadequate. Those were words she’d said far too often and despised. 

“When we did leave the cave, we found exactly what we’d expected. Utter destruction. Not one of our Sisters outside were alive. And Mother Talzin… We could hear her voice on the wind, saying things we couldn’t understand, but we couldn’t find her. At least, not until the strange Nightbrother showed up.” 

Ahsoka blinked. “Maul?” 

With the shadow of Sidious looming over everything, she’d almost forgotten Maul was the original reason why they were here. 

“I think that was his name. We didn’t go near him. But Yenna—she’s one of us—she can hide from anyone, and she followed him.” 

“Yenna? Is that the one who was hiding in a rock?” 

“Yep! That’s me!” 

Ahsoka let out another embarrassing but completely justified yelp, because this time the voice came from below and that same girl’s head was sticking out from the ground and the Force had given her absolutely no warning, what the hell—

Yenna leapt out of the ground like she was jumping out of water and landed in a seated position, crossing her legs. She hadn’t moved a single crumb of dirt until she sat back down, suddenly solid. 

Ahsoka stared. Was this something Ventress could’ve done? “What.”  

Meanwhile, Luce just looked extremely tired. “Don’t tell me you were eavesdropping.” 

“I just got here,” Yenna said in the kind of  innocent tone Ahsoka would’ve used when she and Anakin were trying to convince Obi-Wan they hadn’t been teaching their troops to use a lightsaber. 

Luce sighed and rolled her eyes. “Did you hear back from Karis?” 

“Yep!” Yenna chirped. “She checked their ship. Nothing except an astromech that knocked out three Sisters before Karis trapped it in a net.”

Luce muttered something with the word “Jedi” in there somewhere, but Ahsoka didn’t pay attention to it because she was too focused on Yenna. This girl—at least a few years younger than Luce—felt like nothing else in the Force. In fact, she didn’t feel like anything in the Force at all. For all she could sense in front of her, she might as well have been trying to sense a rock. All the other Nightsisters had pale skin, but Yenna’s was a dark maroon—the exact color of Dathomirian soil. 

“Anyway—just explain to the Jedi what happened at the altar, will you? I need to sleep.” Luce was already leaving before Yenna could answer—which didn’t seem to be a problem, because Yenna bobbed her head up and down excitedly, and leaned forward. 

“I know the Jedi aren’t our friends, but I’ve always been curious about them, and now I’m actually meeting one!” She dropped her hood, and Ahsoka once again was surprised, this time by the girl’s eyes. With her hood up, they glowed like any other Nightsister’s eyes, but with the hood down and her face fully in the light… they looked like seashells. 

 She tried to act like she wasn’t staring. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Yenna gave her a wide smile. “Want to know why I look different from everyone else?” 

“Uh—” She had no idea how to respond to that. 

“I’m made of clay!” she said, and immediately changed topics as if that explained everything. “So when the red-and-black Nightbrother showed up, I followed him through the ground—being made of the ground lets me pass through the ground like I’m part of it—and he was in really bad condition, he was bleeding all over the place, and he dragged himself up to the altar, and then Mother Talzin’s spirit appeared to him—”

“But, how are you made of clay?” Ahsoka said, her head spinning from way too much information too fast. 

“Nightsister magick!” Yenna said, as if that explained everything, and then kept going. “They talked for a while, and he kept saying he needed vengeance, and then she told him the Sith took his brother—”

“His brother?”  

Yenna tapped her chin in thought. “The Nightbrother Mother Talzin took into the village just before the Sith showed up. We couldn’t find him when we came out of the cave.” 

 Ahsoka nodded, filing that information away for later.

“So the red-and-black one asked Mother Talzin to help him, and she… she…” Yenna’s words suddenly slowed, and she shuddered. “She… She healed him with her magick, but… it took all the life force she had left, and… she just faded away. She was… gone.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. “I miss her.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ahsoka said, once again despising how powerless that phrase sounded as it came out of her mouth. 

“She was the one who let me into the clan,” Yenna said, her voice quavering. “She was interested in me because of how I was made.” 

“Why did…” Ahsoka’s brain staggered back to the original topic. ”Why did someone use magick to make you out of clay?” 

Yenna brightened at the question. “My mother wanted a child!” she said, as if that explained everything, and then kept going. “So Talzin healed him, and after that he had metal claws instead of hands, and… Wait. There was something Mother Talzin said to him, just before she… faded away...” She faltered, and then despite the pain in her voice, scrunched up her face in thought. “On Rattatak, find Dathomir’s lost daughter. That’s what she said. I’m sure. Does that help?” 

Ahsoka’s heart sped up. Ventress. That had to be Ventress. The Force pulsed around the words Dathomir’s lost daughter with too much significance for it to be anyone except Ventress.

Running feet echoed down the tunnels towards them; Ahsoka and Yenna turned just in time to see a child, who couldn’t have been older than ten, sprint into the chamber, nearly tripping over herself. 

“Luce says there’s pirates landing in the village and they took Karis—”

Ahsoka launched into motion before the kid was finished gasping out her news, and the first thing she wondered as she flew down the tunnels was, where were her lightsabers—

“Tano!” Luce yelled, appearing in front of her as if answering a call. “You brought these pirates here, so you’re getting rid of them yourself!” With that, she tossed both her lightsabers to her. 

Ahsoka caught them without breaking step. “This isn’t my fault! But we’ll talk about that later!”

She burst out into daylight and blinked for one, two seconds against the sunlight before she spotted a fresh plume of smoke rising from the village, and the distant sound of blaster fire. 

A Nightsister pulled up on a rickety speeder next to her—she didn’t look old enough to drive the thing—and Ahsoka hopped on, scanning the battle as they rapidly approached. A ship had landed in the center of the village, and the Nightsisters were flitting between the huts, firing arrows but never staying in one place. It was a good tactic, and the pirates were retreating into their ship, but she sensed desperation from her side. Moments later, she saw why: two pirates disappearing up the boarding ramp were carrying the cuffed body of a Nightsister with them. 

Ahsoka jumped off the speeder and sprinted down the street just as the ship began to rise into the air, the boarding ramp closing behind it. She crouched and leapt, flying in a perfect arc that brought her through the narrow gap above the ramp just before it shut. 

Five pirates (two of them still holding the captured Nightsister) gaped at her until she unleashed a blast of Force energy, sending them flying backwards. The blast forced the Nightsister out of their hands, and Ahsoka caught her just before five skulls cracked into the wall.

“You’re Karis, right?” she said, bending to cut her cuffs. “Grab a blaster, shoot anything which isn’t me that moves, and hang on tight. I’ll be right back.” With that, she hopped over the unconscious bodies of the pirates and ran towards the cockpit. 

Thankfully, the pirates hadn’t had time to close the blast doors to the cockpit, otherwise getting in would’ve taken much longer. She only had to kick the door in with one Force-assisted blow. Once inside, she landed a punch to the pilot’s head before he’d even turned around, and as he slumped over the controls, she took the steering yoke and shoved it straight down. 

The ground rose up in the viewport, and they hit with a tooth-rattling impact, a massive spray of soil erupting and obscuring everything outside as Ahsoka tried not to be tossed around the cockpit. 

Then, silence. She hit the button for the boarding ramp, and heard more shots, but the Force murmured that the danger was over, so she took a few moments to catch her breath. Then she picked up the still-unconscious pilot and tossed him over her back. When she re-emerged into the main hold, she was greeted with pirate bodies lying all over, and a ring of Nightsisters hugging Karis as tightly as organically possible. 

Luce was poking through the bodies. She looked up, her gaze almost accusing. “What are they doing here? Pirates and slave-traders know to be afraid of this planet. We kill all unwanted visitors.” 

Ahsoka looked around the cabin, noting a lack of precious cargo and some rather ramshackle weaponry. “This isn’t a big-time crew. Maybe they were desperate, malicious, and stupid?” 

The pirate she was carrying stirred, letting out a groan. 

“Hey,” Ahsoka said, layering Force-suggestion into her words. “Tell me what you’re doing here.” 

“Comm…” the pilot muttered. “Comm…” 

“You got a comm? Cool.” Ahsoka dumped the body at Luce’s feet and walked back to the cockpit. One more blaster shot echoed through the ship behind her. 

Unfortunately, the ship’s comm was locked. Slicing it would take… a few minutes. 

A couple of the Nightsisters, glancing curiously around the cockpit, joined her as she began working. 

“I don’t suppose any of you could use magick to slice into this?” she said to the older one.

“Yenna probably can,” the younger one said. “Where is she?” 

Ahsoka didn’t know how walking through walls was going to be helpful right now, so she went back to slicing. Pirates were terrible at a lot of things, but unfortunately cyber-protection was not one of them. They understood perfectly well the risk of being sliced at any time, on account of them also being the ones doing slicing all the time. She had plenty of slicing experience, but that was with Imperial technology, not the hodgepodge of stolen computers and bizarrely-coded programs facing her right now. 

“What do you need from the computer?” 

This time, Ahsoka did not yelp. Either because she was getting accustomed to it, or because Yenna hadn’t jumped out of a wall this time. “Can you slice into this and check the recent comms?”

“I think so.” Yenna kneeled down in front of the console, and then stuck a finger into a dataport.

Ahsoka blinked. And looked over to the other two Nightsisters, who were acting like this was normal. 

“She does this sometimes,” one of them said dismissively.

“What?” 

At that moment, Yenna opened her mouth, and a series of rapid beeps came out, which—was that binary? before she shook her head like she was shaking something out. “Sorry, I forgot I wasn’t talking to the computer. Which comm transmission do you want?” 

“Most recent one. How are you doing that?” 

“Dathomirian clay conducts electricity and Nightsister magick lets me do things with it!” Yenna said, as if that explained everything. “One second… got it!” 

The holoprojector powered up, and the image of a hooded figure rose up before them. All of Ahsoka’s amazement at Yenna was wiped away in an instant as she recognized the visage of Darth Sidious, something she’d seen in a thousand imperial holos. 

“This is a message to any interested parties,” Sidious said, his voice infuriatingly smooth and tinted with smugness. 

A low growl built up in Ahsoka’s throat, and almost unconsciously she pulled her lips back, baring her fangs at the hologram.

“The population of Dathomir has been exterminated. The planet houses ancient treasures and artifacts of an incalculable value, guarded fiercely by the Nightsisters for millennia; but no more. The riches are free for your taking. As proof, I give you this: The leader of the Nightsisters was the now-deceased Mother Talzin, and this is her head.”

It was just before the word “head” that Ahsoka realized what was about to happen. She dove for the console, but she was just a half-second too late—there was a glimpse of something brought into the projection—the Nightsisters’ screams echoed through the cockpit—and then she slammed her hand down on the power button. 

Yenna had backed up into a corner of the room, the light in her seashell-eyes dimming noticeably as she hugged herself again so tightly it seemed like she was afraid she’d fall apart. “Who was that?” she said, so quietly Ahsoka almost couldn’t hear it. 

“That was the man who destroyed our planet.”

Ahsoka hadn’t noticed Luce come in sometime during Sidious’s message, but she noticed her now, the hatred rolling off her so ferociously that it lashed against her in the Force like fire. 

“I’m going to rip him limb from limb the next time I see him.” Luce’s voice was so vicious that Ahsoka didn’t doubt her in the slightest. 

“Why did he send that?” Yenna whispered, still flat against the wall.

Ahsoka could think of several reasons—to cover his tracks, to ensure any survivors would be killed or enslaved, to cause further chaos to the Order by letting dark magical artifacts disperse throughout the galaxy—but it honestly seemed equally likely to just be… spite. Sidious did like to savor a victory over rivals.

“He must’ve sent this message out to every pirate in the vicinity,” Ahsoka said. “There’s no telling how many more raiding parties like this are coming. We need to evacuate the planet. Now.” 

The reaction—disbelieving stares from the Nightsisters—wasn’t what she was expecting. 

“And leave our home to be desecrated?” Luce snarled, clutching her sword. “No. We’ll die before we let the pirates claim our lands and steal everything that has belonged to Dathomir since before time.” 

Oh. She was not lying in the slightest, and none of the other Nightsisters, except maybe Yenna, disagreed.

She’d seen this many times during the Clone Wars and the Empire. A population, terrified of giving up their home even in the face of inevitable destruction, because of what it meant to them. Because, for them, giving up their home felt no less destructive than actual physical annihilation. 

The hardest task in Ahsoka’s life wasn’t something like learning to survive under the Empire, or hiding from the inquisition, or any battle she’d fought in, or any of her lightsaber duels. No, this was the hardest. Convincing people that there was something worth fleeing for. Sometimes… she hadn’t been able to do it. 

She eyed the Nightsisters carefully, trying to figure out what to say to them, what could possibly convince them to leave before more pirates arrived. 

And if she couldn’t convince them to leave… Would she be able to leave? 

Once upon a time, during the Empire, the choice would’ve been forced upon her. Leave, or be bombed into a spray of plasma. It was easier then, to break away at the last minute with whatever stragglers she could convince to leave… and then whisper live to fight another day to herself as she felt lives flaming out in the Force. It was times like that when she felt as if she was no longer a Jedi. 

But now… this was a gentler galaxy, one not quite yet warped into something horrifying. Hordes of unorganized, undisciplined pirates as opposed to the brutal, dispassionate relentlessness of the Empire. She could convince herself that she stood a chance if she really tried. 

But… it was still her and a gaggle of inexperienced apprentice Nightsisters against however many heavily armed pirates were within an hour’s hyperspace ride. And one Jedi could only do so much. And… could she really risk her own life? If she died, who would stop Sidious?

What was her duty? To help some people in the right-here-right-now and risk losing the chance to help many more people later on? Or to do just the opposite?

Before she could sink any further into an impossible choice, the ship’s comm beeped. 

She blinked, looking up, and realized there was an incoming call. She looked around at the Nightsisters, who looked equally unsure, and decided to accept the call. 

A blurry hologram, so blurry she actually could not tell who was speaking, jumped to life. 

“Greetings, greetings!” the hologram crowed, beginning to resolve itself into something vaguely humanoid. ”If you are a pirate, a scoundrel, a smuggler, or any kind of ne’er-do-well, please listen carefully to this announcement!” 

“Oh, fuck me,” Ahsoka muttered. She recognized that voice. Unfortunately.

“I hereby declare my unlawful claim to all the treasures of the planet of Dathomir! As the first claimants, I and my crew have the sole and illegal right to anything of value on this planet. Any pirate in the vicinity who tries to steal what is disrightfully ours will face the full wrath of Hondo Ohnaka!”

Chapter Text

Hondo. Why did it have to be Hondo. This was the first time in Ahsoka’s life where she would’ve preferred running into Maul on a planet over somebody else. 

Stalking back into the center of the village, she found the rest of the Nightsisters and the Jedi, including Dooku and Qui-Gon—who still had some spiderwebs stuck in their hair. 

Four Jedi, two untrained apprentices, and a gang of inexperienced Nightsisters against a potentially enormous number of pirates. She could only think of one way they could repel an invasion, and she really didn’t like it. 

“What is going on?” Dooku said, looking as if he very much wanted to leave. 

Luce came up beside her. “You let your servants speak out of turn?”

Dooku looked so ferociously insulted that Ahsoka thought he might turn to the Dark Side right then and there. She held up a warning hand just as he opened his mouth again. 

“Look, Dooku—we’ve got an entire horde of pirates about to descend on us, can we worry about the more important thing right now?” 

“Pirates?” Obi-Wan said. 

Luce crossed her arms, giving them a defiant look. “We’re not going anywhere.” 

How long was she going to have this argument—

“Luce! We found someone!” 

The entire group whirled around as several Nightsisters came running out of the ship, dragging between them a cowering Zabrak who didn’t seem much older than Luce—and he looked oddly familiar…?

“Where is he?” the Nightbrother shouted, sounding somewhat hysterical. “Where is my brother?” 

“Hey. Hey.” Ahsoka gestured to the Nightsisters to bring him over. “Take a breath. We’ll help you find him. But you have to tell us what happened.” She pulled him gently upright and met his wide, panicked eyes. “How did you get into the ship?” 

“We found him tied up in the hold,” one of the Nightsisters said, and was about to say more until Ahsoka waved firmly at her to be quiet.

The Nightbrother took a deep, shuddering breath and spoke. “Mother Talzin took my brother here… I had to know what was to happen to him, so I followed, and… when the… when Mother Talzin told the youngest to flee into the caves… I was afraid, and I hid, too… I couldn’t protect him. The pirates took me. I’m sorry, Savage…” He broke down into sobs

“Savage?” A bad feeling tickled at the base of her skull. “What’s your name?” 

The Nightbrother wasn’t meeting her eyes anymore. “Feral Opress. My brother is Savage Opress.” 

Savage Opress. Kriffing hell. 

Ahsoka looked back to the other Jedi. “Well, we know what Sidious was doing here. Getting his new apprentice.” 

And his apprentice was no longer the most annoying Zabrak in the galaxy, but the second most annoying. Also apparently Maul’s brother? What kind of blood ran in this family? 

Feral perked up. “Sidious? Who is he? He has my brother?” 

“Sidious is the one who destroyed our planet,” Luce snapped. “You’re not getting your brother back.” 

“Luce—”

All further discussion was cut off by the roar of repulsorlifts above. Ahsoka didn’t even have to look to know whose ship was landing—there was only one pirate in the galaxy with engines as obnoxiously loud as that. 

A giant circular craft touched down in the town’s center, crumpling a few huts and barely missing several of the smaller Nightsisters as they scrambled out of the way, the sound from the engines making pebbles at their feet vibrate. Ahsoka rolled her eyes. Honestly. The damn thing was louder than a Venator-class cruiser at takeoff. 

A boarding ramp extended from the ship with a hiss, digging into the dirt just a few meters away from the main group. A lone figure sauntered down the ramp, tapping his krayt dragonskin boots against the metal. It was the man himself. 

Hondo Ohnaka, looking a little shorter and much less wrinkled, came to a stop and surveyed the group before him, folding his arms behind his back and taking on a look of theatrical surprise. 

“I was told there was no one here,” he said. “Unless you’re pirates? In which case, I’ll have to shoot you unless you leave immediately.” 

He was younger for sure, but his swagger was just as intolerable as ever. Sometimes, Ahsoka honestly could not believe this man had managed to capture Dooku, Obi-Wan, and Anakin all together.

“Get out of here before we kill you,” Luce growled. Out of the corner of her eye, Ahsoka saw her notch a glowing blue arrow into her bow.

“Ah. Nightsisters, then.” Hondo only sounded disappointed. “I had a run-in with one of your kind once. It was not very fun.” 

Ahsoka decided it was time to take control of the situation. She stepped forward, putting herself between Luce and Hondo. 

“Hondo Ohnaka,” she said firmly. “You should leave before things get even less fun.” 

“Oh! She recognizes me!” He squinted at her. “Do I know you? Have I robbed you before?” 

In response, Ahsoka ignited her lightsabers in a guard stance. 

“A Jedi knows who I am! I didn’t know I was that famous.” 

She heard three more lightsabers ignite behind her. 

“A lot of Jedi know who I am!” Hondo didn’t look the least bit fazed. 

“You have no right to anything on this planet,” Ahsoka said. 

Hondo waved it off as carelessly as if she was asking him if he wanted a meal. “I know! And I don’t care, because I’m a pirate! It’s my job to take things I have no right to!” He waved a hand at somebody behind him, and several pirates emerged behind him, carrying heavy repeating blasters. “Now, you Jedi may feel as if you can drive me off with your laser swords, and perhaps you are correct, but let me remind you, I have every gun on my ship pointed at you, and I imagine at least a few of the less well-defended girlies here might die. I know you Jedi would not like that.” 

Punctuating his words, every gun turret visible on the ship swiveled towards them.

Ahsoka gritted her teeth and turned to Luce. “Unfortunately, he’s right.” 

“So what? Are you just giving up?” 

“Nope. I’ve got a plan.” An unfortunate plan. She faced Hondo again, putting on her most diplomatic expression. “Look. We all know you and your crew are… some of the best pirates in the galaxy.” Forget any of the Sith she’d fought, buttering up Hondo might’ve been the hardest thing she’d ever done. “Which is why we’re asking you for a deal. If you help us drive off all the other pirates, we’ll give you free rein over the treasure.” 

“What kind of deal is that?!” 

And now Ahsoka thought Luce might actually shoot her. “Just trust me on this right now, please?” she muttered. 

“Yes, you should trust her, leader girl! Because the Jedi is planning to cleverly double-cross us and leave us with no treasure once we have driven off all the pirates! But regardless, I will accept this offer, because I know I am cleverer than any Jedi, so I will double-cross the double-cross, and we will all go home happy!” 

Ahsoka stared at him. Somehow, even when he was being smart, Hondo still wasn’t making sense. 

“This is your plan?” Dooku whispered, derision dripping off his words. 

“Do you have anything better?” she shot back. The lack of reply told her all she needed to know. 

“So what will it be, Jedi and Nightsister?” Hondo held out a hand. “Will you accept the deal and hope you can outsmart me? Or will there be lots of violence and bloodshed and shooting?” 

“I have a plan,” Ahsoka whispered to Luce. That was… kind of a lie. At the moment, she didn’t really have a plan beyond ‘Fight pirates, trick Hondo.’ 

Luce stared at Ahsoka, then Hondo, then the armed bandits, then back to Ahsoka, and then lowered her bow. 

Ahsoka nodded. “It’s a deal, Ohnaka.” 

“Wonderful! Let’s shake on it.” 

Hondo was still holding out his hand. Ahsoka stared. Force knew where those hands had been, did he actually expect her to—

“Ah ah ah, Hondo Ohnaka never makes a deal he can’t shake on.” 

“Oh, for the love of the Force,” she said, before stepping forward and stiffly shaking his hand exactly once. Hondo let out an uproarious laugh and gestured to his crewmembers. “Inform the rest of our crew that we have a new business venture!” He was still shaking her hand. 

Then he clapped Ahsoka on the shoulder. “I like you, Jedi! The last one of you I ran into wasn’t nearly this much fun. I think this will be a most profitable venture for the both of us.” He was still shaking her hand. 

Ahsoka gave him the barest minimum of a smile. “If you don’t release my hand, I will break your wrist.” 

Good news: Hondo assured them that any pirate worth their spice wouldn’t bother with a hot tip more than a few hours old, so they wouldn’t have to worry about an endless stream of pirates. 

Bad news: A lot of pirates had received this hot tip while it was still hot. 

Good news: they had the perfect place for a giant ambush.

Ahsoka shaded her eyes against the midday sun and gazed up through the smoky haze at the towering pillars of the ancient temple before her. Carved straight out of the rock face at the end of a deep, narrow ravine with sheer cliff faces on either side, it was the perfect stronghold to take refuge in while funneling enemies into a chokepoint. 

“This looks like it could be the oldest thing on the planet,” she mused aloud.

“It probably is,” Yenna said, popping out of the ground beside her, carrying a jar of glowing red liquid. Ahsoka managed to only jump a little.

“It was built long before the Nightsisters rose on Dathomir,” Yenna continued. “Mother Talzin would take us here sometimes when…” She trailed off, closing her eyes, and suddenly the jar in her arms began to shake. 

“Yenna?” Ahsoka said, suddenly wary of the Force circulating around them. 

Yenna’s eyes flew open. She shook her head violently, and the jar ceased shaking.  

“Sorry. I just… I remembered she’s gone. But I never forgot she was gone, I was just keeping it in the back of my mind where I didn’t have to think about it—but then when I said her name, it was back in the front of my mind, I don’t—” 

“Yenna.” Ahsoka gently cut in before the girl had a full-on panic attack. “It’s okay. You just lost your… your everything.”

Yenna nodded rapidly, still looking very unsteady. 

“Okay. Take a deep breath—Uh. Do you breathe?” she blurted out, despite realizing halfway through the sentence that maybe she shouldn’t have said that. 

Some of Yenna’s despair melted away, and she giggled. “Nope.” 

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked that.” 

“It’s fine! It took the Nightsisters a while to get used to me, when I joined them. They had the same questions!” 

Ahsoka nodded. “I still want to help you stay calm, though… is there some sort of repetitive motion you can do with your body that’s easy? Because I’m not sure if any of the things I would do can apply to you?” 

“Huh, you’re right, um…” Yenna brightened. “Maybe this?” She placed her jar on the ground, straightened up, closed her eyes, and held her arms out. After a moment, a bright green fire the exact color of her hair leapt out of her chest, circled her torso twice, flitted around her arms and head, and did one final spin before disappearing into her chest again. 

She opened her eyes, looking expectantly at Ahsoka. “I think that works!” 

Ahsoka goggled. “What was that?”

“My life force! Mother Talzin taught me how to do that,” Yenna said, as if that explained everything. “I think it worked, too. I feel calmer.” 

Ahsoka nodded dazedly, glad that her advice had somehow worked even if said advice didn’t account for someone who might bounce her soul around like it was a playful pet. 

“Okay, I should go give this bomb to Luce,” she said, and dropped into the ground.

“That’s a bomb?” Ahsoka said to the silent ground. 

Ventress, I know you didn’t actually grow up on Dathomir, but I’m beginning to understand a lot more about why you were the way you were, she thought, before turning away and discovering Anakin standing directly beside her carrying an armful of explosives just like the one Yenna had. 

“She’s cool. I wish I could walk through stuff too.” 

Ahsoka mostly managed to keep a calm face at the thought of an Anakin who could walk through the ground, which would send her into insanity, she was sure of it.

And then something occurred to her. Yenna was definitely the one who’d been following them when they first landed. And Anakin had noticed her. How? 

“Anakin, can you sense her?” 

Anakin only looked confused. “What’s that?” 

Ah. Right. Untrained Padawan. 

“Okay. So. Why don’t you give me those bombs, I’ll put them wherever you’re supposed to put them, and then—why are you carrying bombs, anyway?”

“The Nightsisters are doing it.” 

Well, okay, even if some of the Nightsisters carrying explosives looked the same age as Anakin, they were defending their home! They had an excuse. Also, Anakin was… Anakin. Give him bombs and things would go boom. 

She switched to a stronger line of questioning. “Does your mom know you’re doing this?” 

Anakin was silent. 

She reached down and plucked the jars out of his hands. “I’ll take that as a no.” 

“She said to help out and be safe,” Anakin said. “I’m helping out. And I’m not dropping these, so I’m safe.” 

“That doesn’t count as safe.” Ahsoka turned around and (carefully) ascended the temple steps. “Come on, I’ll show you what I mean about sensing things,” she added before Anakin could protest further. 

Just inside the entrance of the palace was the weapons stockpile, which Luce and a couple of the older Nightsisters were carefully arranging. Ahsoka placed the bombs with infinite care, and then nodded to Anakin. She reached out with the Force and felt a tug towards a narrow spiral staircase. Leading him up it, they emerged onto a small terrace overlooking the ravine. 

“Take a seat.” Ahsoka kneeled down on the faded mosaic floor and tried to put herself in Good Jedi Teacher mode. “You know how you can sometimes tell when someone’s nearby even if you can’t see them?” 

Anakin nodded. 

“That’s because you can sense them. All living things leave an impression in the Force, a presence. Because we’re Force-sensitive, we can feel those presences, and they tell us things we wouldn’t know otherwise.” She tilted her head, spreading out her senses over the entire ravine. “For example… right now Luce is now outside the temple, and she’s very frustrated with something.” 

“I felt that too! But only when I was near her. I can’t feel her now.” 

“That’s okay, that’s normal for someone who hasn’t learned how to do it intentionally. The fact that you can do it a little without even trying is great!” Ahsoka gave him a smile and held out her hands. “Here. I’ll guide you through it.”

Anakin put his hands in her palms—oh Force, they were so much smaller than she remembered—and closed his eyes. Ahsoka waited a moment to gauge his Force-presence, and then closed her eyes, too. She stretched out her senses, and gently prodded Anakin’s presence. 

He giggled. “I can feel you poking me.” 

“But I’m not touching you,” Ahsoka said.

“You are! With the Force!” 

“Exactly. Now can you do that?” 

“Hmmm.” Ahsoka could feel Anakin’s face scrunch up in concentration, and she had to forcibly resist the urge to go awwwwww. Moments later, she felt his Force-presence poking back. 

“I did it! I did it! I did it!”

And now Ahsoka couldn’t help but laugh. Anakin was so excited about doing something that her Anakin could’ve done in his sleep. She didn’t think the contrast would ever stop being strange. 

“So! Now try stretching out with your presence like you just did, except all around you—and see how far you can go. See how much you can feel.” 

Anakin’s presence washed over her, and then it just kept going and going and going. He was a natural at this. 

“Mom’s down there… she’s feeling worried, but not a really bad worry, just worried about everyone around her… She doesn’t like the pirates. I don’t like them too. They don’t feel nice. They feel like sand. Qui-Gon’s on the ridge. He’s watching us.” 

“Oh, is he?” Ahsoka tilted her head, and indeed she could sense him above, watching them without any attempt at concealment. His Force presence was tinged with genuine curiosity. She could almost envision him rubbing his beard thoughtfully, Obi-Wan style. 

“He’s probably wondering what we’re doing,” she said. “What else can you sense? What about inside the temple?”

“Nightsisters,” Anakin said. “Luce, she’s inside again, Obi-Wan’s just walked in, and Yenna, she’s sitting down, she’s tired.” 

That was what Ahsoka had been waiting for. “So now I have a question for you. How do you sense Yenna? Because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?” Anakin said, as if it was a perfectly obvious thing. 

“I don’t know why. Yenna is very clearly alive and a sentient being. The Force should flow through her, but… it’s like she’s not there.” 

She felt Anakin shrug slightly, his hands turning over in hers. “She’s a person. She feels like any other person to me.”

“Hm.” Now she was the one being taught. Just like old times. “Maybe I have to learn to sense her, just like you’re learning to sense other people.” 

“Yeah! Here, I’ll show you!” Anakin’s grip tightened, his Force-presence shifted, and suddenly Ahsoka felt as if she was sensing things through him and seeing through his eyes, and then she was back in her own head, sensing things her own way, and… and… she could sense Yenna. 

Yenna’s Force-presence was a rich red-and-green, and it churned around her like rapids in a river, and it felt just like the Force would around everyone else, which of course made sense because she was still life, just life in a different form—

“How did you do that?” Ahsoka said to Anakin. 

“I showed you,” Anakin said, demonstrating a Yenna-like ability to explain himself. 

Ahsoka was about to ask further when something in Yenna’s Force-presence gave her pause. She frowned, recognizing a growing turmoil. She drifted closer, and felt grief, so much grief, hurts, can’t hold it in, it’s going to swallow me up— 

And then the Force did the equivalent of a flashbang, and Ahsoka sprang to her feet, her head spinning as she was abruptly thrust back into the real world, feeling a wave of fear and alarm from downstairs.

With a muttered warning to Anakin to stay there, she practically flew down the stairs, and bursting back out into the main chamber, she saw Yenna backed into a corner with her back flat against the wall, her robes pulled around her knees, and her head buried in her arms. Hovering around her was a violently lurching cloud of stones and rubble, clattering off the ground and the wall and each other and producing a deafening cacophony. And in the middle of it with Yenna was… Obi-Wan?  

Ahsoka came to a stop as she realized she couldn’t get past the flying debris, and settled for bouncing on her feet and anxiously watching Obi-Wan as he knelt down next to Yenna, speaking quietly to her, the words not quite reaching Ahsoka’s ears. 

Moments passed, feeling like years, and Ahsoka had to dodge several rocks that came near her. But then the rubble began to slow, and then they came to a stop, the rocks shuddering in midair for a few moments before it all fell to the ground. 

“There we go,” Obi-Wan said. “How are you feeling?”

Yenna gave him a weak smile. “Better, I—I think.” 

“That’s good.” Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, and then he said, “You have a great deal of grief within you.” 

“Y—yeah, that makes sense. I… I started thinking about Mother Talzin again, and also my other mother, the one who made me, they’re both gone, and it all started hurting again, and I tried to use the trick Ahsoka showed me, but it wasn’t enough, so I just tried holding it in… and then things got bad.” 

Obi-Wan nodded sympathetically. “Grief isn’t easy to hold inside you. It’s best to let it out when it needs to be let out.” 

Yenna nodded slowly. “When I get that many feelings, this always happens. I lose control. Mother Talzin was trying to help me with it.” 

Obi-Wan was looking at the dropped rubble around them with a contemplative expression, and he made eye contact with Ahsoka, raising his eyebrow, before turning back to Yenna. 

“You’re Force-sensitive,” he said. 

“The Jedi power?” Yenna tilted her head. “Is that why none of the Nightsisters could help me control it?” 

“Maybe?” Obi-Wan said. “If they knew as much about the Force as the Jedi know about Nightsister magick… that makes sense.” 

Yenna looked him directly in the eyes. “Can you keep helping me? Ahsoka showed me something that helped, and then you told me something that really helped, and I want to actually control my powers, not just hide in the ground where I won’t do any damage every time I get like this.” 

Obi-Wan nodded. “I need to finish something outside, but I’ll be here in a few minutes?” 

“Okay. I’ll be right here.” With that, Yenna dropped into the ground, leaving Ahsoka and Obi-Wan alone.

“She needs to come back to the Temple with us,” Obi-Wan said as soon as she was gone. “Even if not to be a Jedi, just so she can have our help.” 

Ahsoka nodded. “Full of grief, just lost her entire home, needs help controlling her Force powers? And she wants our help? Never any doubt, Obi-Wan.” 

“I wonder what the Council will think of this.” 

“They’ll deal with it.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “I never thought anyone could match Qui-Gon’s ability to inflame the Council, but you’re getting up there.” 

“Good.” Ahsoka paused. “Speaking of Qui-Gon, actually, have you talked to him?” 

“…No.” 

Ahsoka gave him her best ‘deeply unamused’ look. Which she had actually learned from the old Obi-Wan. 

“There hasn’t been any time since we stepped on this planet!” 

“Make some time,” Ahsoka said. “Help him carry a cartload of bombs or something.” 

“Have a talk we both don’t want to have while carrying unstable explosives. Wonderful idea. Why are you so invested in clearing the air between us, anyways?” 

“Well—” Ahsoka stopped short. You used to be a father figure to me wasn’t an acceptable answer. So she settled for something just as true. “I know how awful it feels when a Master and a Padawan don’t part the way they’re supposed to part,” she said softly. 

“Oh.” Obi-Wan seemed to not know how to respond. They were silent for a few moments, watching the focused, tense preparations of the Nightsisters. 

“You seemed to know exactly what you were doing with Yenna,” Ahsoka said. 

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I helped a group of child soldiers fight a war for several months when I was younger. It taught me a great deal about keeping children calm and stable in a stressful situation.”

Ahsoka stared. Obi-Wan had never, ever mentioned anything about this. What the hell.

“And this was—” She cut herself off, because she’d almost asked when which would’ve been far too strange a question, and hastily regrouped. “—this was where?” 

“Melida/Daan, about a… decade ago? Over a decade ago?” Obi-Wan shrugged. “It wasn’t a very pleasant time, but I did manage to end the civil war—Why are you looking at me like that? You’re the one with the horrifying past.” 

“Yeah, but it sounds like something that would’ve happened to me, and that’s not good.” 

Obi-Wan crossed his arms and sighed. “Fair point. Now, shall we go back to helping these child soldiers?” 

Ahsoka watched the sky. The plan was… more complex than she would’ve liked. 

Hondo’s ship was sending out his comm warning to other pirates on a loop. As Ahsoka expected, it would not actually warn off any other pirates—but draw them to the location of his ship when they traced the signal. Because where Hondo was, the real money was. 

The rest of the plan relied on a mix of strategy, supernatural skills, pirate stupidity, explosives, timing, Yenna, and luck. 

Shmi and Anakin had taken refuge deep in the palace with the Nightsisters that were too young to fight. Ahsoka was pretty sure she’d seen one of the infants gazing longingly at a rack of throwing knives. 

For now, the sky was free of pirate vessels, but she could sense them coming. They didn’t have much time.

Footsteps behind her. Dooku. 

“Is everything ready?” she said without looking at him. 

He stopped at her side. “I fail to understand why you are so set on this course of action. If we want to rescue these witches from the pirates, it would be far easier to stun them all and bring them to Coruscant before the pirates land.”

“And then what?” Ahsoka said, still not looking at him. “We get to Coruscant and you’ve got a bunch of angry Nightsisters who don’t want anything to do with us ever again. We’ll be lucky if they don’t stab us before they take off for Dathomir or parts unknown.” 

“How is staying here to help defend the burnt ruins of their home and allying with the scum of the galaxy any better?”

“Because then they feel like they still have a choice. And once we’ve dealt with the pirates and helped give them that choice, then maybe they’ll listen to us when we say we want to help them.”

“And?” 

Now she turned to look at him, giving him the most displeased look she could muster, because fucking hell, this man was denser than durasteel. “Do you not understand the significance of a potential Jedi-Nightsister alliance? Something which has never happened before in the history of the galaxy?” 

“Perhaps the Nightsisters of before would matter, but a gaggle of uncoordinated and trigger-happy children is not worth the risk we are taking.” 

When he said that, Ahsoka’s first instinct was to tear out his throat with her teeth, her second instinct was the slightly less violent option of breaking his nose, and her third instinct was to think carefully about how to respond in the most armor-piercing way possible. 

Thankfully for him, she listened to her third instinct. There was something interesting about his word choice. Risk, he’d said. 

And then she figured something out.  

Once she’d calmed down, she spoke. “And you think getting in bed with the Sith isn’t risky?”

Dooku didn’t reply, which she’d come to understand was his way of saying ’I haven’t been called out on my banthashit until now.’

“You’re afraid of failure,” Ahsoka said. She let those words hang in the air, and watched Dooku very carefully. He showed no outward sign of a reaction, but she felt his pulse pick up.

“You’re afraid of failure because of how many times you, and the rest of the Order, have failed already. You’re so afraid of failure that it’s eating you up from the inside. So you’ve stopped trying to make the galaxy a better place. And you think you can satiate your fear with the Dark Side, because it’s an easy guarantee of success. Or at least, what you think is success.”

She could practically feel her words getting under his skin. 

“I wonder what makes you so afraid of failure,” she said, musing aloud. “It can’t be that you’re afraid of the consequences. Because a lot of the time, not doing anything is just as bad as trying and failing. So. What is it?” 

Dooku, as expected, was silent. 

“I know!” Ahsoka clapped her hands together in a mock display of surprise. “It’s because if you fail, it might force you to acknowledge that you’re not perfect! Very far from it, in fact! Does that sound right?” 

And this time, Dooku actually did go for his lightsaber. Ahsoka was a step ahead of him, though. She watched him grasp at empty air on his belt, and then when he looked up she waved his curved hilt at him. “Be careful thinking you’re perfect, Dooku. Some people will take much more advantage of that than I am. Like Sith Lords.” 

She tossed his lightsaber back to him. There had been no murderous intent behind his move—he’d just wanted to somehow reassert some sort of control over his situation, and drawing a lightsaber apparently felt like the best way to do that for him. 

Dooku caught it and stared at her. “What do you hope to gain by speaking to me in this manner?”

“I’m trying to turn you, of course.” 

The startled look he gave her was one for the ages. 

“Turn you away from the Dark Side, that is,” Ahsoka added with her most cheerful smile. 

Knowing Dooku’s flair for the dramatic, there was some sort of huge failure in his past that was fueling most of this fear of failure. The problem was that she had no idea what it was. Zero chance he’d talk about it, so… She’d have to do some detective work. And then make him confront it. 

The Force rippled above them. Ahsoka and Dooku looked up just in time to see a dot appear in the distant sky. The first pirates. 

“Okay. Let’s do this.” Ahsoka turned to leave, and patted him on the shoulder as she went. “If you’re not in position when the battle starts, I’ll kill you.” 

“Tano.” 

Ahsoka stopped mid-stride and glanced back. There was something… different about his tone. “What?” 

“How are you without hatred?”

Ahsoka raised her brow and said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Your power. Your skill. You have dispatched Jedi-killers and a Sith Lord. You appear to be singlehandedly dragging the Jedi Order into some sort of reformation not seen since the likes of Ruusan. You do not stop for anything. But I cannot believe in you until I know what you hate. Because there must be some darkness in you somewhere. Something that is fueling you which no other Jedi would dare to touch. There is something that makes you unlike the rest of them. What do you hate?”

Ahsoka cocked her head. Stared at him. Thought about a thousand different ways she could answer. And then decided to answer honestly. 

“There is exactly one thing that I hate,” she said. 

When the first pirate ship landed, Hondo was waiting for them. Not Hondo’s crew. Just Hondo. Ahsoka thought this was a terrible idea, but Hondo had assured her this was perfectly in character for himself. 

“Hello, hello my friends!” Hondo said, sauntering down his ship’s ramp and holding his arms out in greeting to the small group that had disembarked from the ship. “What brings you to this fine planet?” 

The lead pirate, a Twi’lek with an eyepatch, grunted. “Same thing that brought you here. Money.” 

“Oh?” Hondo said. “Then I am pleased to tell you that I have assured myself of the greatest prize already!” 

The lead pirate started to lift his rifle, but before he could even finish the movement, an arrow had embedded itself into his chest. 

“I have made a deal with the native population,” Hondo said as a flurry of arrows rained down on the pirates—a small enough crew that the first volley was enough to deal with them. “Unfortunately, you all are the collateral.”

The Nightsisters rushed out from behind cover and rapidly stripped the corpses of their weapons. Hondo chuckled at the sight. “Take it easy, girls! There is plenty more where that came from!” 

Ahsoka jumped down next to Hondo from where she’d been hiding on top of his ship. “They’re not arming themselves against the pirates. They’re arming themselves against you.” 

“Oh, I know,” Hondo said. “Why do you think I’m telling them to take it easy? And also—are the shields down on that ship now?” 

Ahsoka shrugged. “They should be. They’ve landed, and no one’s left in there.” 

“Excellent.” Hondo made a signal to someone in his ship, and suddenly one of the gun turrets pivoted and fired a laser into the just-landed pirate ship, destroying it in a fiery explosion that barely missed some of the Nightsisters. “Don’t think I plan on letting any of you get your hands on a ship with weapons that might be able to match mine.” He tapped the side of his head, flashing her a toothy smile. “There are lots of brains in here, you see!” 

“You are definitely smarter than you look,” Ahsoka conceded.  

“Thank you!” Hondo paused and then frowned. “Wait.” 

The Force rippled again, and Ahsoka spotted another ship high up in the atmosphere. “Forget it,” she said. “Round two is here.”

The rest of the afternoon was a series of similar scenes. Lone pirate ships landing and being taken out by a surprise Nightsister attack (and one Nightbrother too; Feral broke a few necks) while being distracted by Hondo. If it was a bigger crew, the Jedi would jump in to assist. But mostly the job that the Jedi had was cleaning up. Because nothing would be more suspicious than the burnt-out wreckage of a ship (Hondo was continuing to blow up every abandoned ship)  and a mound of corpses nearby. So they kept moving Hondo’s ship around, and using the Force to quickly hide the wreckage and bodies in the previous sites. 

Somehow, all of this was working. To this point, their element of surprise was so thorough that they had not taken a single casualty. But there was an implication of that which Ahsoka dearly hoped the Nightsisters hadn’t figured out yet. Unfortunately, during a lull in the action, those hopes were dashed. 

With the Force telling her she had a few minutes to breathe, Ahsoka had gone inside the Temple to check on Shmi and Anakin. It wasn’t until she was most of the way there that she noticed Luce was behind her. 

“Shouldn’t you be outside with the others?” she said.

Luce shrugged. “If you feel safe enough to take a break right now, so do I. I want to check on the kids.” 

Ahsoka couldn’t argue with that.

Everything was indeed fine with Shmi and Anakin and the children, but Luce went slowly around the room, gazing into hastily assembled cribs and letting her gaze linger worriedly on the toddlers. Her Force-presence radiated despair. 

At one crib in particular, she stopped and stood for a long time, her body tensing up to a point that had to be painful. 

Ahsoka slowly walked up next to her and stood silently, simply waiting for Luce to say something.

“The pirates keep walking straight into our trap,” Luce said finally. She was clutching the baby’s fist like she would be burned if she let go. “They aren’t expecting any Nightsisters or Nightbrothers.” 

Ahsoka nodded. This was exactly what she’d already figured out. 

“The pirates have lifeform scanners. They must’ve scanned the planet before landing. And…” Her voice quavered. “If all they expect to see is that pirate Hondo and his crew… they must not be picking up any sentient life anywhere else on this planet besides here—where the number of sentients detected is so small that it really does look to them like there’s nothing but one pirate gang.” She let go of the baby and then turned to Ahsoka, slumping. “This is… all that’s left of us. The sisters that were too young to fight, but old enough to run and hide.” She was silent for a long time, and then she whispered,  “Dathomir will die with us.” 

Ahsoka had been expecting this exact reaction from the Nightsisters, and she had been preparing herself to respond. Because she had been in exactly this situation once. “Are you sure about that?” 

“Uh. Well. Yenna might live for a really long time, so I guess that means Dathomir will live on through her, but… this is the end of us. The Nightsisters.” 

“Is it?” Ahsoka said. 

“Well, how the hell do we continue it?!” Luce snapped. “I’m the leader of the clan now because I’m the oldest, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing! I don’t know any of the things that Mother Talzin knew! I can’t even coordinate an ambush!” 

“Who says you have to be the one to do it all?” 

Luce’s only reply was to give her a look that clearly said she thought Ahsoka was stupid. 

“We would help,” Ahsoka said. “The Jedi Order would help. We’d be honored to help you.” 

 Luce scoffed. “We’re not joining the order of emotionally stunted people who refuse to have sex.” 

Ahsoka burst out laughing, which clearly caught Luce by surprise. Once she’d caught her breath and managed to stand upright again, she spoke seriously. “We would not ask you to join us. We would find you a safe place to live, make sure you’re provided for, make sure you can reconstruct as much of your way of life as possible. And for what you can’t reconstruct… the Order would make sure the Nightsisters are recorded and remembered. We’d send archivists, researchers, archaeologists, librarians, every kind of person who might be able to help preserve Dathomir’s history. And we will protect you, because I guarantee once that Sith Lord finds out you’re still alive, he’ll want to finish the job.”

“…The Nightsisters have never allowed outside help before.” Luce sounded more unsure than standoffish now. 

“And?” Ahsoka spread her arms. “What help is tradition now? Might as well break tradition, since everything else around you is broken.” She leaned in, letting some of her Force-presence uncoil in front of Luce; the part of her that had lived through the Empire, the part that had become a spymaster and an assassin and a soldier and a thousand other things. “You can let Dathomir die, if you think it’s inevitable, or you keep fighting for that better future by adapting. Evolving. Whatever it takes for the Nightsisters to survive.” 

Luce was silent for a moment, her expression practically blown wide open with uncertainty and fear and exhaustion. 

“I know what it’s like to be the last of my kind,” she said, ignoring how dangerous it might be to confess that. Then she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It felt… good to say that out loud. 

The Force tickled at the back of her neck, warning her that pirates were once again coming through the atmosphere, headed their way. 

“…You’re a survivor, too. Like me,” Luce said. “Because I actually believe you when you say you’re going to help us.” 

Ahsoka nodded. “I can’t say the other Jedi will love giving shelter to Nightsisters, but I’ll make sure they treat you like they’d treat anyone else who needs help.” 

Luce was looking down at the ground now. One of her fists was clenched, but not in a way that seemed violent—it was more stressed. 

“Luce?” Ahsoka said cautiously. “Are you—oh, okay, that’s… Sure, that’s fine.” 

In the middle of her sentence, Luce had bolted forward and wrapped her arms around Ahsoka.

“Is this a yes?” she said even more carefully. 

“I’m allying Dathomir with the Jedi,” Luce mumbled, her face buried in Ahsoka’s shoulder as she kept hugging her. “I’m the worst leader of the Nightsisters in history.” 

“Hey, there’s going to be a lot of Jedi who aren’t happy with me for this, either,” Ahsoka said, trying to keep her tone light. “I, uh… thought that Nightsisters weren’t big on hugs?” 

Luce snorted. “We never hug outsiders.” 

“Huh?”

“You feel like one of us,” Luce said. “And if the Nightsisters are going to survive… I guess we need to start thinking differently about outsiders.” She stepped back and swiped a hand over her drooping mohawk, flattening most of the hair against her head. “I should get back to the others. You coming?” 

Ahsoka nodded. “Be quick. There’s another ship coming in. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

As Luce exited the room, Ahsoka turned to Shmi, who sat in a corner of the room with her back leaning against the wall, her eyes closed. Some sort of meditation that looked quite Jedi-like.

Ahsoka hesitated. She had something she wanted to ask Shmi, but she looked so peaceful right now that it felt wrong to disturb her. 

Fortunately, Shmi took care of that for her. She opened her eyes, meeting Ahsoka’s stare. “What did you want to ask me?” 

Ahsoka blinked. “Uh.” She was still trying to understand Shmi’s senses. “After I hunted down a Krayt Dragon on Tatooine, I think you added something to my wristguards.” She held up her wristguard, displaying the etched symbol of the lightning bolt piercing the curved shape. 

A small smile crossed Shmi’s face. “I was wondering when you’d notice that.” 

“I didn’t notice it. Somebody else did.” 

“Ah. Did they call you a Dragon Slayer?” 

Ahsoka’s only reply was a nod. 

“On Tatooine, for as long as it has been run by the Hutts, there has been a language of symbols for those who are trying to free themselves. It has spread into most of Hutt Space and the Outer Rim as well. It is not a language that you will find in any database, but it is a language that almost anyone who has worn chains in this part of the galaxy will understand.” She reached out and gently tapped the symbol on Ahsoka’s wrist. “This is one of its  most recognizable marks. A Dragon Slayer is someone who will help anybody who needs help, without asking questions, without any demand for recompense, without reservation or fear. It is a symbol of a protector, a liberator, a fighter. It is the symbol of someone who has the power to slay a Krayt dragon and uses that power for good.” 

Shmi took a breath and looked meaningfully into Ahsoka’s eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you knew the symbol already and were simply trying to earn it.” 

Ahsoka traced a finger over the symbol, thinking back to Tatooine and the dragon and the sands and… 

“Shmi,” she said suddenly. “I—The prophecy you mentioned. The Tatooine one. About the warrior who comes out of the desert to free the slaves.” She swallowed heavily. “Do you think that’s me?” 

“No.” 

The simple sureness of Shmi’s answer was like an enormous load lifting off Ahsoka’s shoulders, and she almost sagged with relief. 

And in that moment, she was struck by the fact that she was younger than Shmi. Of course she’d realized that already, but—it was really apparent right now, because she wanted really badly to just ask Shmi if she could hug her right now. She looked like she was good with hugs. 

Kriff, how sleep-deprived was she right now? 

“I should go,” she said abruptly. “Pirates.” 

Shmi nodded and closed her eyes again, settling back into meditation. As she walked out, one more thing from Shmi floated to her ears. 

“I don’t believe in prophecies,” she said. “I think they’re usually made to give people hope where they have none.” 

Hondo, somehow, was bored. 

“You’ve got all the Nightsisters doing the shooting!” he moaned to Ahsoka while she was in the middle of kicking a pirate’s body to see if it was still alive. “And then you Jedi pick up all the leftovers! I never would have agreed to a deal if I’d known I would be nothing but a distraction!”

“Really?” Ahsoka said, and she genuinely was baffled by this. “I thought you would love that you just have to stand around and don’t have to do any actual work.”

Hondo drew himself up. “After my dear mother, there are three things that I love in this galaxy, madam Jedi. The first is money, of course, but the second are excitement and action! Neither of which I am getting right now!” 

“Calm down. Just think about how you don’t have to risk the life of yourself or anyone in your crew right now.” 

“You insult the great Hondo Ohnaka!” he cried, placing a hand over his chest. “None of us would be at risk if we were allowed to fight! The mettle of my men in battle is unmatched!” He paused. “And my women. And my nonbinaries. I believe in equality in my crew!” 

“All right.” Ahsoka rubbed her forehead, which unfortunately did nothing to relieve the headache Hondo was giving her. “If you want some excitement and risking your life, how about I do that for you?” Punctuating her words, she ignited one of her sabers. 

“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Hondo said, immediately sounding much more reasonable. 

“That’s the spirit.” Ahsoka sensed someone approaching behind them, and turned just in time to see the Nightsister named Karis approaching them. 

“Luce wants to know if it’s over yet,” she said. “There’s only been one pirate ship in the last half-hour.” 

Ahsoka looked at Hondo. “You’re the pirate. Is anyone else coming?” 

“Excuse me, just because I am a pirate does not mean that I will be able to understand the motivations and actions of every other pirate in this galaxy!” 

She kept looking at him. 

“…But yes, I do think that the dust has settled. Except… Hm.” He stroked his chin. “I have several particularly esteemed colleagues who have not yet made an appearance, which surprises me. I suppose they could have taken the news as a hoax…”

Hondo kept muttering, but Ahsoka stopped listening. There was something poking at her in the Force, and… She turned and looked skyward just as the Force erupted into a full-blown warning. She didn’t see one single dot in the sky this time. She saw a lot of dots. 

“Oh, dear.” Hondo must’ve noticed it too. “I do believe those are my colleagues who have not shown up yet. It seems that they’ve recognized this is a trap and are banding together to overwhelm us.” He wiped away a tear from his cheek. “How brilliant of them! If I wasn’t allied with you right now, I would be cheering for them!” 

“Get Luce and all the Nightsisters together,” Ahsoka said to Karis. “Tell them we’re going to Plan B.” 

“What is Plan B?” Hondo said as Karis ran off. “I was not aware of a Plan B!” 

“Good news! You’re part of the action now!” Ahsoka started not-so-lightly shoving him towards his ship. “When the pirates land, new script. Tell them you’ve already made your claim to this area and that all the treasures in the temple are yours. Get in an argument with them. Let them drive you off, get to a safe distance in your ship. Wait for the big explosion, and once that happens, circle back and block the end of the valley with your ship. Then you can start shooting!” 

“Exciting! Are we all going to die?” 

Hondo wasn’t getting an answer to that, though, because Ahsoka was already sprinting down the valley towards the stone temple. 

The Nightsisters were setting up behind the fences of the temple, thick boulders that the Jedi had dragged into place with the Force making up a defensive line. 

“Where’s Yenna?” she said to Luce, who was casting some sort of blood-red magical flame on her sword which looked frankly terrifying.

“I don’t know. Underground.”

Ahsoka gave her the most unamused look she could manage.

“I really don’t know!” Luce added hastily. “It’s not like we can see her!” 

“Here!” 

This time, Ahsoka managed not to jump at all when Yenna hopped out of the ground, which was possibly one of the greatest achievements of her life. 

“Yenna. You’re ready?” Ahsoka said. “You still think you can go through with this?” 

Yenna nodded. “It’s gonna take me a while, I’ve never tried to drag nearly this much stuff through the ground before, but… I think I can do it.” 

“Perfect.” Ahsoka picked up a backpack laying against a nearby rock and handed it to Yenna. “Don’t hurt yourself.” 

She had gotten this idea earlier when she found out Yenna could make other things incorporeal as long as she was touching them. Unfortunately, the more things she had to make incorporeal besides herself, the slower she would move through the ground. Which meant this had to be timed perfectly. 

Yenna gave her a nervous smile and then dropped into the ground. The backpack dropped down with her, but much more slowly. Where Yenna seemed to drop like a rock into water, the backpack was more like an overloaded boat slowly sinking. Ahsoka didn’t take a breath until she had completely disappeared. 

Now half of their plans rested on a teenager with a backpack full of thermal detonators. And this was the best thing she’d come up with. 

“Wait until my signal to attack,” she said to the Nightsisters, before leaning back against the boulder and taking a deep breath. She could hear the ships landing now. 

Next to her, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Dooku were crouched. Ahsoka glanced at them briefly and wondered, how good would they be at blocking immense amounts of blaster fire in close quarters without the experience of the Clone Wars.

Hondo Ohnaka’s voice drifted down the valley towards them—he must’ve made contact with the pirates. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but the voices quickly dissolved into shouting, followed moments later by blaster fire and then, almost immediately after, Hondo’s ship taking off.  

Ahsoka nodded. So far, so good. She peered around the rock, and saw the pirates starting to filter into the valley. There were several ships at the mouth of the valley behind them—and no sign of Yenna. More pirates were coming out of the ships, too. That was… a lot of pirates.

Ideally, Yenna would blow up the ships with most of the pirates still inside, but as the seconds ticked by, Ahsoka realized they wouldn’t be that fortunate. Could they catch at least some of the pirates still on their ships? Hard to say, because some of the pirates that’d entered the valley were getting really close to her position. 

She thought about it, and then decided the two pirates carrying heavy repeating blasters were too close for comfort, and yelled, “FIRE!” 

The Nightsisters unleashed a rain of explosive jars from behind cover, and Ahsoka was more than a little impressed as she watched enormous fireballs tear through the first line of the pirates. 

She stood up and ignited her lightsabers, stepping out from their cover with her fellow Jedi. They spread themselves out evenly, forming a defensive line in front of the Nightsisters. The pirates did not seem particularly fazed but the appearance of five lightsabers—starting to recover from their surprise, they were pouring out of the biggest ships now and pressing forward, perhaps sensing that where there was Jedi, there would be the mother of all treasures.

Ahsoka turned to the Nightsisters. “Keep throwing everything you’ve got at them!” she called. “Don’t stop for a second!” 

It looked like the ships were mostly unoccupied now. Shame. At the very least, sabotaging them would still prevent any escape and also prevent the pirates from rearming themselves. Ahsoka turned her full attention to deflecting the storm of blaster fire.

Her gaze passed briefly over the skies. Huh. She knew she’d told Hondo to get his ship to a safe distance, but… She couldn’t see his ship in the sky at all.

KA-BOOM

There was Yenna, Ahsoka thought as she watched the biggest pirate ship go up in an enormous fireball, followed moments later by the one next to it, and then the one next to that, and then… it was a glorious chain reaction. The only disappointment was that it seemed nearly all of the pirates were not harmed—only very surprised.

Okay. Any moment now, Hondo’s ship would land at the mouth of the valley, and then it would be a bantha shoot. 

Ahsoka watched. And waited. 

Any day now, Hondo. 

The pirates were collecting themselves again, regrouping and realizing that they still had a very large numerical advantage. 

“Fuck,” Ahsoka said, slowly realizing that Hondo would not be showing up. 

Time for Plan C.

“Hey!” she called out to the other Jedi as blaster bolts started to land around them again. “Go out the back entrance to the temple, circle around, and flank them.”

Obi-Wan stared at her. “And leave you alone to face the pirates?!”

“Yes.” 

Qui-Gon spoke up. “Obi-Wan, this is the only option we have.” He fixed a piercing gaze on Ahsoka. “You are a reckless, domineering enigma of chaos. But I trust you to hold the line.” 

Ahsoka grinned as she deflected a shot aimed at her head. “Thank you.” 

That seemed to convince Obi-Wan. Dooku, for his part, seemed to have no qualms of any kind. He was probably hoping she’d be shot.

The other Jedi left without a word, and Ahsoka signaled to Luce. 

“Get everyone inside the temple. Seal the door. It’s getting too hot here for you all.” 

Luce made a loud noise of protest, but then something in Ahsoka’s expression quieted her. With a hard expression, she waved the other Nightsisters inside.

She was alone on the battlefield against a sea of pirates, with nothing but rocks at her back and no escape ahead. 

Familiar odds. 

Ahsoka took a deep breath and twirled her lightsabers in her hands, drawing the Force tightly around herself like a spring coiling. This would be a terrible place to die, with a too-bright sun beating down on her and the smell of smoke in her lungs and perpetual clouds of dust making her eyes water.

The galaxy would not be saved if she died here on a desecrated planet, defending a tiny sliver of an obliterated civilization. 

And yet, she had no regrets about the course of events that had brought her here. Sidious had chosen to destroy this planet himself, perhaps out of sheer spite, and if he’d had his way, every last Nightsister and Nightbrother would be dead right now, and pirates would be pillaging everything on this planet that had ever meant something to somebody. 

But Ahsoka refused to let Sidious have his way anywhere, no matter how insignificant the place or the people. If she couldn’t stop him from having his way on Dathomir, she couldn’t stop him from having his way with the galaxy at large. 

She faced the pirates, and silently resolved not to step back a single centimeter. 

Dooku slipped away from his former Padawan and Kenobi midway through the temple, and backtracked to the entrance, taking care to stay out of sight of the huddled witches’ children. Quieting his Force signature, he ascended to one of the crumbling balconies, where he was afforded a perfect view of the subject of his immense mystification. 

Ahsoka Tano. 

At last, a chance to witness her in action. He had hungered to see this.

Dooku had been on the verge of leaving the Order—really, he had already made up his mind and was just waiting for one more fumble by the Council to give him a pretense to depart. 

And then Tano had appeared. 

He fully accepted that she was from the distant past now. No current Jedi could possibly act the way she did. 

He had given up on the Order already, decided they were too weak and indecisive to act, that the only path to salvation would be the Dark Side. Nothing else was strong enough to save the galaxy. 

And then Tano had appeared. 

There was something she’d done—he wasn’t sure Tano had even been aware of what she’d managed. During her holocall with the Council earlier, she’d said… 

“Masters, you need to tell me if anything bad, weird, or inexplicable happens to a Jedi… Honestly, if anything weird in general happens, tell me.”

That was not a request. It was an order. And the Council had agreed to her order without question. In other words, they had obeyed her.

Did Tano even realize the significance of what she’d done? Jedi Knights simply did not give the Council direct orders. 

The sound of intensifying blaster fire shook him out of his thoughts, and he realized he was missing the action. Collecting himself, he focused on Tano. All of the pirates’ attention was on her, and yet she was deflecting every one of their shots almost effortlessly. 

The pirates were still collecting themselves, regrouping and spreading out, creating a wider and deeper field of fire that would have proved deadly to any Jedi… and yet, Tano withstood it. Her two white lightsabers whirled around her faster and faster, until they were simply glowing blurs that looked like the wings of an avenging angel wrapped around her. 

Dooku stared, something akin to amazement beginning to percolate inside him. He still thought that to be so strong she must be a Darksider. Which was why he had asked her what she hated. He was not expecting her to answer honestly. 

The pirates, perhaps realizing that their current rate of fire wouldn’t be able to overwhelm Tano, were beginning to press closer to her, closing the distance and further intensifying the barrage. Unfortunately for them, it also put them in range of the shots Tano was deflecting, and as he watched her position shifted, and she began to send the bolts back at the miscreants firing at her with deadly precision. 

“There is exactly one thing that I hate,” Tano had said.

“What?” 

“War,” she’d said. “I hate war. And you should, too.” 

Dooku sensed the first signs of nervousness amongst the pirates, as they realized their assault on the lone Jedi was not succeeding.  

“Why?” 

“When you allow yourself to hate war, despise it with a burning passion, hate it for what it brings upon the galaxy… Then, when you are forced by circumstances to wage war, you will do anything to end it. And there is no one in the galaxy better at ending a war than someone who hates it.”

At this point, thermal detonators began to fly through the air towards Tano. But without breaking the frenzied rhythm of her sabers, without letting a single blaster bolt by, she sent them all flying back towards the enemy. More explosions rocked the valley, and now Dooku sensed a growing fear amongst the pirates. The ones at the rear of the pack, who were too far back to shoot, turned and broke for the valley’s exit… only to be stopped short as the distant figures of Jinn and Kenobi appeared and ignited their sabers, trapping them. 

“I know I will win because two passions as great as any emotion in the galaxy are propelling me to victory: My hatred of war, and my love of peace.” 

The re-appearance of two more Jedi sent the remaining pirates into a full panic, and they abandoned all semblance of organization in favor of a blind mass charge towards Tano, apparently believing that if they could just overwhelm this one Jedi and get into the temple then they would be saved.

“And when you hate war and love peace, the Dark Side will never appeal to you, because the Dark Side loves war and hates peace.”

At first, Tano repelled the stampede with waves of backbreaking Force energy, but as through sheer desperation they closed the distance on her, she began to slice through them like they were being served up on a conveyor belt for destruction. 

“And that is why the Dark Side will never be stronger,” Ahsoka had said, staring directly into Dooku’s eyes. The deep blue of her irises startled and unnerved him. They seemed to speak of millennia, and of things he could never guess at. “Love of war will never beat hatred of war, and hatred of peace will never beat love of peace.” 

And finally, finally, the pirates’ offensive failed entirely. The ones that had not been cut down by Tano backpedaled and tossed aside their weapons, raising their arms above their heads and crying for mercy. 

For a moment, Dooku thought she would grant none, but then Tano lowered her blades and barked an order at the pirates to kneel, before signaling to the temple. The children rushed out from behind cover and began rapidly cuffing the few remaining pirates, and that was it.

The battle was over. They had won. Without taking a single casualty. 

Dooku stared at Tano, who was taking deep, even breaths and slowly surveying the landscape. Even after sparring with her, after watching footage of what she’d done on Naboo, he was stunned. 

If he was in her position, he would have died. Unless he drew on the Dark Side. But there had been no darkness in Tano as she stood tall. She had not even taken a single step back. 

After seeing the Sith Master’s nearly successful attempt to eliminate the Zabrak, a single pang of doubt had crept into Dooku’s mind about the efficacy of pursuing tutelage from this Sith. Now that doubt widened as he watched Tano walk slowly through the shadows of the valley, checking that every pirate was unarmed and restrained. 

For the first time in years, Dooku was witnessing a Jedi that seemed capable of saving the galaxy from ruin. 

But this was still only a hypothetical. He rose out of his crouch, dusting himself off. Before he could even begin to believe in Tano, she would have to begin to undo the Order’s worst failures. In the meantime, the Sith still necessitated consideration. But as he watched her, those words she’d said continued to resonate in his mind. 

Suddenly, the Force whispered something in his ear, pulling his attention up to the cliff-edges far above. It took him a moment, and then he saw a lone figure prowling along the cliff’s edge with a rifle in hand. A straggler pirate, who had escaped without surrendering. He was tracking something with his rifle—

He was tracking Tano. Who was walking back towards the temple entrance… completely oblivious to the sniper. 

For a fraction of a second, Dooku considered doing nothing, waiting to see if Tano would sense the threat. After all, if she could not save herself from one sniper, how could she possibly save the galaxy? 

In the next moment, he threw aside that thought as sheer idiocy. If there was a test of Tano’s ability today, it was already over. 

He drew his lightsaber and leapt, landing directly behind Tano just as the pirate sniper fired, and deflected the shot headed for Tano into the ground. 

Immediately after, he felt a snap of Force energy behind him and watched the pirate be yanked over the cliff’s edge to his death. 

He turned, and saw Tano with a hand outstretched… and neither of her lightsabers ignited. She stared at him with an expression of undisguised shock. 

Dooku did not wait for her to speak. 

“If you are to have any hope of saving the galaxy or retaining me as an ally, you must atone for the Jedi Order’s immense failure on Galidraan.” 

With that, he turned and walked away. 

Chapter Text

“What the hell is Galidraan?” Ahsoka said to Dooku’s back.

No reply. 

“Nope, nope, nope,” she snapped out, catching up to Dooku in a moment and grabbing his elbow, nearly knocking him over as she spun him to face her. “You don’t get to say something like that and just walk away. Now tell me, what is Galidraan?” 

Dooku stared at her, his lips pressed together in a thin line. When he did speak, he sounded as if the words were being extracted from him with pliers. 

“Twelve years ago, the Jedi Order dispatched a mission to the planet of Galidraan to answer a plea for help from the planet’s governor. He claimed that Mandalorian terrorists were menacing the planet.” 

It was all Ahsoka could do to stop herself from saying aloud, the Death Watch? They were already active? 

…Actually, what was the situation on Mandalore right now? Because the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t know anything about what had preceded Duchess Satine. Bo-Katan hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with information about that specific part of history, ever. 

“When the Jedi task force arrived, they were indeed met by heavily armed Mandalorians. Nearly all of the Mandalorians were killed in the ensuing firefight.” 

“And?” Ahsoka didn’t like where this was going. 

“It was not until several months after these events that the Order discovered that they had been grossly deceived by Galidraan’s governor,” Dooku said. “The Mandalorians that the Order cut down were, in fact, not terrorists. The worst that could be said about them was that they were hired mercenaries—paid to be there by the governor for the purpose of planetary peacekeeping. The governor had conspired with an actual separate faction of Mandalorian terrorists to entrap and exterminate these mercenaries, who were sworn rivals of the terrorists.” 

Ahsoka stared at Dooku, words completely failing her. One: She had never heard of this. Two: What the fuck.

“Do these factions have names?” she said. “Or are they all just Mandalorians to you?” 

“The terrorists call themselves the Death Watch. Their rivals, when they were still a cohesive entity, called themselves the True Mandalorians.” 

Well, at least one thing in all this mess was familiar to Ahsoka. She now understood why Bo-Katan had never mentioned the True Mandalorians or Galidraan to her. It didn’t sound like the sort of thing she would’ve been proud of.

Dooku’s head was bowed now, and his Force-presence roiled with shame, and anger, and disgust, and… something else which she couldn’t quite place. “I consider it to be one of the Order’s darkest hours.” 

Yeah, that was a fair assessment. She needed to look into the True Mandalorians now, but if her surface-level understanding of the conflict from Dooku’s mouth was accurate, then the Order had unintentionally decapitated the one faction of Mandalorians who could actually put up a fight against the Death Watch. 

Satine had been an incredible person, but she never stood a chance in Ahsoka’s time. There was a very fine line between being a deeply principled pacifist and being someone who refused to take the full measures needed to deal with a threat to democracy, and… Satine had fallen on the wrong side of that. She was trying to play a fair game on a playing field that was being endlessly tilted by a Sith Lord. 

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. 

She tilted her head, and at that moment Dooku suddenly seemed reluctant to meet her eyes. 

“Were you on that mission?” 

“Any further information about the disaster at Galidraan can be found in the Temple archives,” Dooku said. “I do not wish to speak of it further.” 

Ahsoka smirked. Bullseye. 

“You were on that mission,” she said. Then she paused, thought through something that still didn’t make sense, and then the final puzzle piece dawned on her: 

“You were in charge of that mission!” 

Dooku actually turned and started walking away, which was perhaps the most ridiculous thing Ahsoka had seen him do yet, and that was a high bar to clear. 

She caught up to him again (if the old man thought he could outrun her, he had another thing coming), and was completely unable to keep the glee out of her voice as she matched his pace. “So this is your great big failure!”

“I beg your pardon.” 

“This is the thing that’s been eating at you from the inside out! This is the thing that really makes you think the Jedi Order is broken and beyond help! I knew it had to be some big incident that you were personally responsible for!”

No reply. But she could feel it. The Force was so withdrawn around Dooku that he was clearly shielding himself.

“You—” Ahsoka broke off as she processed yet another thing. “—and you EXPECT ME TO CLEAN UP YOUR OWN MESS FOR YOU?”  

Dooku stopped short and faced Ahsoka for the first time since saying the word Galidraan. His face had taken on a pallor, and there was an odd spark in his eyes—not darkness. She would almost call it desperation. 

“I have spent years trying to find a way that I, or the Order, could atone for Galidraan. I have found nothing.” 

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.” 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were approaching from the opposite direction, and Obi-Wan gave Ahsoka a questioning look, but Ahsoka not-so-discreetly waved him off before he could join what felt like a conversation that couldn’t be disturbed. Thankfully, Dooku was too lost in thought to notice her motioning. 

“What is there to find?” Dooku said. “The True Mandalorians are wiped out. The Death Watch are nigh-invisible and impossible to locate. Mandalore itself has found peace and stability.”

“Do you think Mandalore of all places is going to stay stable for long? Will the Death Watch stay invisible forever?” 

“That is beside the point. Mandalore’s current regime is vocally against accepting martial assistance from the Republic.”  

“That’s stopping you?” Ahsoka said, crossing her arms. Dooku had started walking again, but without any apparent purpose in mind. They were on the verge of exiting the valley. 

“Of course. If Mandalore wants to manage its own affairs, the Republic and the Order are legally obliged to respect that.” 

“So, do I have this right? You’re refusing to do a good thing because that would be breaking the law… So as a result, instead you’re planning to break the law to do bad things.” Ahsoka patted him on the shoulder as if placating a small child. “You should follow my lead, Dooku. Do good and worry about the consequences later. It’s actually much more fun that way.”

Dooku did not reply immediately. “Perhaps I should.” And then suddenly he was all business again, his tone brokering an urgency that Ahsoka had never sensed in him before.

“If you can find a way that the Order can atone for Galidraan, then I will believe you are capable of anything.”

With that, he turned and walked away. This time, Ahsoka let him go, because she believed him. 

“Madame Jedi! Are we too late to offer assistance?”

And there, with the most impeccable sense of timing, was Hondo. Ahsoka turned to see him entering the mouth of the canyon with his band of pirates, all of them armed but also not looking particularly militant. 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up after you broke our deal,” Ahsoka said, not-so-subtly resting her hands on her lightsabers. “Where the hell were you?” 

Hondo put on what was probably meant to be an apologetic expression, but just looked more like he was having his leg chewed off by a lothcat. “Madame Jedi, we did our best! But when you set off all those explosions, my ship’s repulsorlifts were damaged by flying debris! We barely avoided crashing as it was!” 

He gestured behind him, and Ahsoka climbed the last few steps out of the canyon to see in the distance… Well. Hondo’s ship did look like it’d had a very hard landing. And the smoke coming out from underneath it looked very real. 

“We had to walk all this way!” Hondo added. 

“How convenient for you,” she said, only half-sarcastic. “Just in time to avoid all the actual conflict. You could’ve at least run!” 

Hondo waggled a finger at her. “Ah, ah, my dear mother always told me to never run while holding a weapon, because that is how nasty accidents happen!”

“Mm.” Ahsoka sighed. “Mostly out of a desire to avoid further conflict, I’m going to take you at your word.” And also a desire to avoid further headaches.

“Wonderful! Now, shall we move on to the second half of our agreement?” 

“We’re not giving you anything, pirate scum.”

Ahsoka sighed once again as she sensed (and heard) Luce, along with most of the other Nightsisters, coming up behind her. They were now all heavily armed with various weapons taken from the pirates. Luce, coming to stand by her, was somehow carrying a rotary cannon, Hardcase-style. 

“Don’t, Luce,” she said. “I don’t want anyone else to die.” 

That had an impact on Luce, as her Force-presence wavered with sudden uncertainty, but she didn’t lower her blaster. 

“Yes!” Hondo said. “Thank goodness for some sense! If a fight were to break out, people will most certainly die! I am fine with that, as is my crew. Are you?” 

“Boss, I don’t—” one of the pirates started to say, only to be cut off by Hondo clapping a hand over their mouth.

“What do we do?” Luce said. 

Ahsoka tried to let a little calmness and reassurance pulse out into the Force. “We’re going to listen to Hondo’s demands. And then we’re going to figure out a way to double-cross him,” she said, since there was no point in disguising her intentions.

“Yes! And then I shall thwart your attempt and depart with my loot!”

“Why should I have any confidence in your plan?” Luce said to Ahsoka. 

Ahsoka leaned over and whispered into Luce’s ear, quiet enough that Hondo couldn’t hear: “Who do you think is smarter, me or him?” 

Luce looked back and forth between Ahsoka and Hondo, and then snarled and lowered her cannon. “Okay, wrinklyface, tell us what you want.” 

Hondo’s demands were simple, and his terms were… surprisingly well-thought-out. 

Ahsoka watched the Nightsisters as they loaded up the Jedi shuttle with the last of the first (and only, she hoped) load of loot. High above, Hondo’s now-repaired ship hovered, keeping watch over the proceedings with its guns pointed at them. Although, Ahsoka noted, its flight looked a little shaky. Which unfortunately gave credence to Hondo genuinely being the victim of an unlucky bit of flying debris. (Unlucky for her, not him). 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Obi-Wan said from behind Ahsoka. 

Ahsoka’s only reply was to nod. Anakin had taught her long ago to ignore Obi-Wan’s ‘bad feelings.’ 

“Okay—stop struggling, you stupid bucket of bolts—Ahsoka! Tell your droid to calm down!” 

Ahsoka turned around and saw Luce, Karis, and two other Nightsisters trying to make their way towards her while dragging a net behind them—a net which Artoo was tangled in, beeping and whistling enragedly while also shouting things in binary that she didn’t even know how to translate. 

“It might help if you take him out of the net,” she said. 

Karis shook her head violently. “No way. I don’t trust this violent little contraption. He knocked out three of us. We’ll release him from the net when he’s inside the ship.” 

Ahsoka sighed and bent down to Artoo, patting his dome through the net. “Hey, buddy. You good?” 

Artoo wailed at her that he was being kidnapped and strangled and electrocuted and burned alive and stabbed and cut in half.

“Yeah, I know, you don’t like being trapped. Nobody does. But can you just deal with it for a little longer? You’re scaring these kids. Once you’re on the ship, I promise you’ll get to take out your frustration on some pirates.” 

Artoo made a grumbling noise and stopped struggling, letting himself be dragged aboard the now-loaded Jedi shuttle. 

Artoo was the first part of her plan. The second half was… 

“Where’s Yenna?” she said to Obi-Wan. 

He furrowed his brow. “I don’t know. She told me to wait here, actually.” 

Ahsoka raised a brow, and looked around—only to see a very odd sight: Qui-Gon, heading towards them, but looking as if he was tripping over the ground with every step while also loudly protesting the direction his legs were taking him. 

After a few moments, she realized why: He wasn’t actually moving himself. He was being pulled along by a hand sticking out of the ground, which had firmly latched onto his ankle. 

“Unhand me—what is this madness—”

Obi-Wan looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh as Qui-Gon was pulled up next to him—only to cut off abruptly as another hand appeared and grabbed his ankle. And then Yenna’s head popped out of the ground between them.

“I heard you say that you two are fighting!” Yenna said brightly to Obi-Wan. “So I’m not letting go of either of you until you make up!” 

“What?” Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon yelped simultaneously. 

Yenna’s seashell eyes suddenly looked very sad and shimmery. “I think a teacher and their student should always try to get along, because my teacher’s dead now and I don’t want to see other people lose their teachers in any way at all too.” 

“Well.” 

“Er.”

The master-padawan pair suddenly looked incredibly bashful. 

“Could you at least let go of us if we promise we’ll talk to each other?” Obi-Wan asked finally. 

“Nope!” 

Ahsoka took that as her cue to leave the two Jedi alone. She turned and headed for Shmi and Anakin, who were on the other side of the ship, helping the Nightsisters. It was time for a teaching moment. 

“Hey, I’ve got a question for you two,” she said, gently placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “You already know I’ve got a plan for dealing with the pirates, but have you figured out what it is yet?” 

Anakin looked very disappointed. “You’re not going to fight them all with your lightsabers?” 

Ahsoka could barely suppress a giggle. “That would be nice, but I don’t want anyone on our side to get hurt.” 

Shmi tilted her head, looking up at the sky. “Hondo wants the artifacts flown up to his ship, and he wants nobody but our astromech on the ship to pilot it… With his ship’s organic lifeform scanner, he would be able to tell if we had anyone hiding on the ship to ambush them.” She shook her head. “The only thing I could think of is somehow tricking the scanner, perhaps with Nightsister magic?” 

“Close!” Ahsoka gave her a thumbs-up. “Good logic, uh, Padawan.” She’d almost said young Padawan out of reflex built upon hearing that phrase thousands of times before, but that was just incorrect. And saying old Padawan didn’t sound proper either. “We’re going to sort of do that. Hondo’s scanner will be working just fine. But our ambush on the ship is going to be made entirely of inorganic lifeforms.” 

She nodded to the ship, where they could see Artoo trundling around just inside the cargo bay, finally free of his net and still grumbling very loudly. “Him.” 

And then she nodded to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, who were finally talking to each other as Yenna showed no sign of letting go of their ankles, looking immensely proud of herself. “And her.” 

“Oh.” Shmi’s eyebrows went way up, and Ahsoka sensed doubt. 

“The ship has a skeleton crew. Just enough pirates to pilot the ship and point the guns—the rest are down here, watching us to make sure their plan goes smoothly.” 

Shmi nodded very slowly, still looking thoroughly unconvinced. 

“Sometimes you just have to trust the Force when you’re making a plan. What’s the Force saying to you?” 

“The Force is saying that’s a child and an astromech.” 

“Nothing ordinary about this astromech and this child.” 

“Hmm.” Shmi looked like she wanted to say more, but Hondo was approaching. 

“Well, madam Jedi, I do believe that this ship is fully loaded! My ship is ready to receive the treasure, and I cannot wait to see how I will foil your foiling of me!” 

“Hold your banthas. There’s still some room.” 

Ahsoka glanced over to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, and was relieved to see Yenna had disappeared. 

“Hm.” Hondo gave her a look of blatant suspicion. “You are oddly eager to make sure that we receive as much treasure as possible.”

“I’m hoping your ship gets overloaded and crashes,” Ahsoka said matter-of-factly. 

He let out a bark of laughter and clapped her on the shoulder. “You are funny! Have you ever thought about abandoning your stuffy boring Jedi life and becoming a pirate? I would certainly make a spot for you on my crew.” 

“Trust me, I’ve had enough excitement for two lifetimes.” 

Hondo shrugged. “Ah, it was worth a shot. So, is the treasure ready?” 

Over Hondo’s shoulder, Ahsoka saw Luce giving her a discreet thumbs-up. Bingo. “Yes, actually.” 

“Good!” Hondo signaled to one of his crew, who walked up into the ship carrying a blaster and a scanner. After a few minutes, she walked back out and nodded to Hondo. 

“Excellent, it seems nothing is amiss… Yet.” 

Ahsoka said nothing as she watched the boarding ramp close, the ship rising into the sky. Right now, Artoo would be in the cockpit, and Yenna would be hiding inside a boulder carved with runes—just big enough to hold her—that’d been rolled into the ship. 

“All right.” Hondo put his comm to his ear, listening to a transmission that Ahsoka could eavesdrop on without trying:

“Nothing’s showing up on the scanners except an astromech, Boss.” 

“Hmm.” He squinted at Ahsoka, who kept her face perfectly blank. “Proceed with caution.” Then, to the pirates around them, he called out, “Be on your guard, my compatriots! There may yet be trickery!” 

Ahsoka couldn’t help herself. “Don’t be so paranoid,” she said. “Do you really think the word of a Jedi means nothing?” 

“I trust the Jedi as much as I trust anyone in this galaxy, madam,” Hondo said, looking almost affronted. 

“…You don’t trust anyone?” 

“Correct! Are you sure you don’t want to join my crew?” He raised a pair of scopes to his eyes, squinting at the Jedi ship as it approached the much-larger pirate craft, and then lowered them after a few minutes, apparently satisfied with whatever he was looking for. “I would not be opposed if any of the girlies wanted to join my crew, either. With their demeanor, they would fit right in!” 

Before he even had a chance to look around hopefully to see if anyone would take him up on his offer, Luce was saying, “We’d rather stab ourselves through the eyeballs.” 

“See! You prove me right!” However, he did not pursue that line of thinking any further.

The ships were docked by now, and a silence fell between the Nightsisters and the pirates as they watched the transfer taking place. The Force hinted at nothing. 

Hondo’s comm crackled a few more times with updates from the pirates onboard, but the important one took some time to arrive: 

“Nobody on the ship, Boss! And no tricks, the loot is the real deal! We’re almost done unloading!” 

“Excellent!” Hondo crowed, apparently having convinced himself of his success. “What are you waiting for, nutso? Finish unloading!” 

Ahsoka waited, her entire body tensing ever so slightly as she waited for some alarm to burst out of the comm, or for the ship to suddenly explode, or for anything else to go wrong. But the comm was silent, and a few minutes later, the two ships separated. 

The T-6 gave a little wiggle of its wings as it disengaged—the signal she’d been waiting for.  

Hondo turned to her, practically preening with pride. “Now, we repeat the process until my ship is full, Madam Jedi!”

“Nah.” Ahsoka called her lightsabers to her hands, ignoring the sound of several pirates cocking their blasters. “You’re going to start walking west, or my companion on your ship is going to carpet-bomb you all to kingdom come.”

“Eh?” Hondo blinked at her. One, two seconds passed, and then alarm dawned on his face. He spoke hurriedly into his comm. “Tukko, report!” 

The voice of Yenna floated through the comm. “I’m not Tukko, but I can report that your ship is stolen!” 

“What?!” Hondo stared at Ahsoka. “The score of a lifetime! Enough treasures to retire on! You have stolen my beautiful SHIP! You deceived me, Jedi!” 

Ahsoka smirked. “I mean. Did I ever try to hide it?” 

“You weren’t supposed to succeed!” He looked so crestfallen now that Ahsoka almost felt bad for him. Almost. 

Several of Hondo’s underlings looked rather twitchy now, glancing around at the Nightsisters every few seconds and fingering the triggers of their weapons. 

“And in case any of you think you might start shooting…” Ahsoka lit her sabers. “Forget getting bombed, I’ll just remind you all that a Jedi knows exactly how to make people die very slowly and painfully.” 

Thankfully, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Dooku had the good sense to not say anything out loud despite the dumbfounded looks they were shooting at Ahsoka which very clearly conveyed a message of what the fuck, no we don’t. 

“Er…” Hondo took a nervous step back, eyed his airship which now had all of its guns pointed at him, and then sighed heavily. “Give it up, my loyal henchpersons. We have been outclassed, outfoxed, outmaneuvered—and now, we are outgunned! By my own ship!” 

Ahsoka rolled her eyes and nodded to the Nightsisters. “We’re going east, everyone. The ships will follow us. And no funny business, Ohnaka.” 

Without waiting for anything else, she turned and began walking away, the Jedi and the Dathomirians trailing behind her. 

“Madam Jedi!” 

At the sound of Hondo’s pleading voice, Ahsoka glanced over her shoulder without stopping. 

“You are leaving us without a ship! How are we going to depart this planet?!” 

Ahsoka shrugged, and gave him her most innocent smile. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, since you’re so smart.” 

Between the Nightsisters, the distinct lack of four other Jedi, and the ramshackle pirate comm system they were using to call the Temple, Obi-Wan knew this was going to be an eventful talk long before Qui-Gon activated the holoprojector.

Mace Windu’s form stuttered into existence, along with barely recognizable outlines of the rest of the Council. Obi-Wan sighed as soon as he saw the terrible quality, and hoped they wouldn’t lose their connection. 

“Master Jinn,” Windu said, surprise evident in his tone. “Why are you calling from an unrecognized transmitter?” He tilted his head, trying to see behind them.  “…Where is Tano? And the Skywalkers? And Dooku?” 

Qui-Gon gave a helpless shrug. “Knight Tano has chosen to send myself and Obi-Wan back to Coruscant while she continues her pursuit of Maul. Master Dooku remains with her, as do her apprentices.” 

When the Council’s visible confusion only grew at those words, Qui-Gon sighed. “I will now explain what transpired on Dathomir.” 

A great deal of explaining had to be done, and as Qui-Gon talked, Obi-Wan’s attention wandered around the room. The Nightsisters refused to sit down in the presence of any Jedi, so they were crowded around the perimeter, squinting suspiciously at the holoconference. Actually, there was one Nightsister sitting down—Yenna, cross-legged in the corner and playing absently with a metallic trinket. She noticed Obi-Wan looking her way and gave him a small smile, which he quickly returned. 

She’d been peppering him with questions about the Force since they took off, and he’d done his best to answer them, while occasionally wondering if perhaps he should find an adult for her to talk to—that was always followed by him remembering with alarm that to Yenna, he was an adult. 

An adult who would soon be a Jedi Knight, in fact.

Obi-Wan had been extremely reluctant to do it, but now that it was over with, he could admit he was very glad he’d talked to Qui-Gon. About a great deal of things. 

His Master was a brilliant man who believed deeply in doing what was right regardless of consequence. But he could become so thoroughly wrapped up in doing what was right that he was prone to being completely unaware of the fallout of his actions. One such consequence, which Qui-Gon only realized when Ahsoka Tano said it to his face: Declaring without any warning that he would train Anakin and that Obi-Wan was ready for the trials had felt like abandonment. It made Obi-Wan wonder if his Master had lost faith in him. 

Of course, he would’ve rather died than actually talk to Qui-Gon about that, but he hadn’t been given a choice. Somehow, it’d worked out for the best. Qui-Gon truly did believe that Obi-Wan was ready to become a Knight; he’d been mulling it over for weeks and had simply announced it with the worst possible timing and context. Obi-Wan could easily forgive that; he’d forgiven his Master for worse. 

Did Obi-Wan feel like he was ready to be a Jedi Knight? 

He still wasn’t sure, but Qui-Gon assured him that was a common feeling amongst senior Padawans—it was apparently a running joke amongst masters that the last person to know about a Jedi’s knighting was the Knight themselves. 

Qui-Gon was retelling how Ahsoka had held off the pirates singlehandedly. Which made Obi-Wan wonder how she was faring right now. The group’s parting ways had been quite simple. Ahsoka had taken her apprentices and Dooku (the way she was making him follow her around, it was like she had a third apprentice) and hopped on the T-6, bound for Rattatak—a planet Obi-Wan had never heard of; it had no representation in the Senate and the shuttle’s onboard archives contained only its navigation coordinates and a one-paragraph description characterizing the planet as “lawless” and “irrelevant to greater galactic politics.”

Ahsoka had directed Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon to return to Coruscant on the stolen pirate ship with the Nightsisters, and furthermore had ordered them to not let anyone except the Council come into contact with the Nightsisters. Her exact words had been, I don’t care if the kriffing Chancellor himself wants to talk to them, you don’t let ANYBODY near these girls. 

He thought that was perhaps an exaggerated amount of caution, but then again nothing Tano did was ever a half-measure, and everything that was happening only seemed to be justifying her vigilance. 

He noticed Qui-Gon coming to the end of his account and straightened, preparing to re-enter the conversation. The Council exchanged looks of consternation, although it was hard to say exactly what they were in reaction to.

“Speak to Nightsisters’ leader, I would like to,” Yoda said. He paused, and then added, “If they have one.” His ears drooped noticeably as he said that.

Qui-Gon nodded to Luce, who stepped forward, eying Yoda’s hologram dubiously.

“Greetings, young one.” He inclined his head to her. “Deeply sorry about the loss of your people, I am.” 

“Are you really?” Luce said. Her tone was steel. “I thought the Jedi would be celebrating when they heard a whole planet of Darksiders got knocked off.” 

There were several delicate, untraceable coughs from elsewhere on the Council, but Yoda took the jab fairly well, his expression and Force-presence remaining solemn. 

“No quarrel with the Nightsisters, we have,” he said. “Content to leave you to your own devices, we have always been.” 

“Hm.” Luce crossed her arms, but didn’t say anything else. 

“A common enemy, we have,” Yoda continued. “Finish what he started, this Lord Sidious will surely seek to do. Offer protection, alliance, preservation, and knowledge, we can.” 

“Ahsoka promised you would give us a home. A place where we could keep being ourselves,” Luce said, meeting his gaze. “You’re not going to try turning us into Jedi?”

“Not at all,” Windu was the one to reply, looking genuinely offended by the suggestion. Then a look of exasperation crossed his face. “...Did Knight Tano promise you anything else?”  

Luce shrugged. “She said you would help preserve our history.” 

“Ah.” Windu visibly relaxed. “We would gladly do that.” 

Luce nodded, and then curled her lip. “She also told us any Nightsister who wants to train with the Order and become a Jedi is welcome to do so.” 

She looked positively insulted by the suggestion, but Obi-Wan saw it was the Council that had the sharper reaction—that universal dismay and consternation that they seemed to exude whenever Ahsoka Tano did anything. 

Windu was pinching his brow again. “In no way did Tano have the authority to declare such a thing.” 

“Don’t worry about it. None of us want to be anything except a Nightsister.” 

Obi-Wan glanced around, and saw that most of the other Nightsisters shared Luce’s attitude on their faces and in the Force. A few of the younger ones looked more thoughtful, but then glanced around at the expressions of their older peers and immediately deferred to the unspoken choice. 

“Well. I suppose the point is moot, but we will need to have a talk with Tano about how much authority she has the right to exercise.” 

“Do you think she’ll listen?” Ki-Adi Mundi said, in the tone of someone throwing their hands in the air.

“No. But we cannot give her any reason to interpret our stance as approval. Imagine what she would do if she believed she actually had our explicit and unconditional support?” 

“By the Force,” Mundi said faintly, and fell silent. 

“Well. We’ll wait to hear from Tano, and until—” 

“I would like to be a Jedi.” 

The sudden sentence, spoken rapidly, surprised everyone in the room. Obi-Wan, though, was the least surprised of anyone, because he’d been thinking something like this might happen. And he’d been more surprised when she didn’t speak up earlier and ask to be a Jedi. 

Yenna was standing up, her fists clenched at her side and staring into the fuzzy holograms. 

A frenzied bout of muttering broke out amongst the Council, and then Windu nodded. “Come forth, child.”

Yenna stepped into the view of the holoprojector, standing as straight as possible as she faced the Jedi. Several of them raised their eyebrows when they sighted her. 

“You are different in appearance from the other Dathomirians,” Depa Billaba said. 

“Uh, yeah…” Yenna shifted from foot to foot. “I’m made out of clay.” 

That was met with a dead silence, followed by Windu saying, “What?”

“She is strong in the Force,” Obi-Wan said, cutting in before the Jedi could overwhelm her. “The Nightsisters tried to train her, but she is outside the domain of Nightsister magic. She needs Jedi tutelage.”

“Needs?” Oppo Rancisis said, and although it was hard to tell through the blurred hologram, he looked like he was raising an eyebrow archly. “No one needs to be trained in the Force.” 

“She is a unique case,” Obi-Wan said. “Her upbringing means she has some control over her powers, just enough that when she is overwhelmed, there is a danger to herself.” 

“And to others,” Yenna added quietly. 

Instinctively, Obi-Wan laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I have witnessed her, and will vouch for her ability to be a Padawan. She is curious and caring.” 

“Hmmm.” Yoda fixed a penetrating stare on Yenna, leaning forward on his stick as if he might try to reach through the hologram. “Hypocritical of us, it would be, to make an exception to the age limitations for one Padawan and no more. Exceptionalism should not have a place in the Order.” 

There was a silence that felt rather stunned, and then Adi Gallia spoke up. “Master Yoda, do you realize the logical conclusion of that line of thinking?”

“Consider that conclusion when we arrive at it, we will. For now, still a distant consideration, it is.”

Several Councilmembers exchanged uneasy looks, and it took Obi-Wan a moment to realize why: If it was hypocritical to make just one exception to the age limit, then making an exception for Yenna couldn’t be any different, unless… 

Unless the age limit was taken away entirely. 

Suddenly, Obi-Wan understood why Yoda did not want to think about the ramifications right now. 

“Consider your admittance to the Order, we will, young witch of Dathomir,” Yoda said. “A name, you have?” 

“Yenna.” She looked like she was trying very hard to keep an enormous smile off her face. “Yenna… Yenna Talzin.” 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, I am.” 

Ki-Adi Mundi spoke again. “Who will train her? Unless Tano wants to try taking a third apprentice…?”

“Oh! I talked to Ahsoka about that!” 

When Yenna said that, Obi-Wan’s first thought was, dear gods, how many apprentices does she want to have? Nothing prepared him for what Yenna said next, though. 

“She thinks there’s a Jedi who would be the perfect teacher for me.” She turned and pointed directly at Obi-Wan. “Him.” 

Suddenly, all eyes on the Council were on him, and he could feel every Nightsister in the room staring at him, too, and of course Yenna was looking right into him with her seashell eyes that somehow managed to be pleading even though Obi-Wan really didn’t think seashells were supposed to do that. With so much attention on him in such a critical moment, everyone clearly awaiting his response, Obi-Wan put together the most intelligent reply he could manage. 

“What?” he said. 

Him? Training her? The perfect fit? What was Tano thinking? He hadn’t even been—

“She said we fit together well!” Yenna said, as if that explained everything, and turned back to the Council. “Can he?” 

“Well, that’s ultimately—” Windu started to say, before he caught himself and switched tracks. “Child, Kenobi is a Padawan. Padawans cannot take a Padawan themselves.”

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. “About that, Masters…” 

Oh, no. 

“My soon-to-be-former Padawan and I have talked through our differences of opinion, and we both agree he is ready to take the trials now, if you will allow him. I truly believe he is a Jedi Knight in everything but name.”  

“Master,” Obi-Wan said quietly. The Council did need to be informed of this development, but why now? 

Qui-Gon gave him a half-smile. “I am not saying that you have to take her as a Padawan. I am simply pointing out that it is very much an option for you, if you desire.” 

Obi-Wan gave him his most unamused look. Qui-Gon was definitely enjoying this—Tano dropping a surprise on someone besides him for a change. 

“You would take a Padawan so soon after attaining Knighthood?” Ki-Adi Mundi said. Obi-Wan noted that his question held a notable lack of no, and realized that this was all tilting towards a situation where he could set the record—in all of recorded Jedi history—for the shortest time between being Knighted and having a Padawan. If he desired such a thing. 

That was a very important if. Ultimately, it was the teacher’s decision. Jedi did not simply have Padawans foisted on them, which meant that for all of the momentum facing Obi-Wan, it was his choice that would decide it.

“I…” He trailed off into silence, looking at Yenna. 

His thoughts flashed back to Melida/Daan, and just how similar Yenna’s pain felt to some of the children, loss they weren’t ready to process, leaking copiously out into the Force like a wound, and yet also a fierce desire to survive. And he remembered his own uneven journey to becoming a Padawan, himself being unable to properly control himself or his emotions, and how much he had hoped that someone would choose him. 

And then he knew what his decision would be. Somehow, Ahsoka Tano had done it again.

He bowed his head to Yenna. “If you would have me as your Master, then I would be delighted to take you as an apprentice, Yenna.” 

Yenna squeaked and began bouncing up and down on the tips of her feet, before she bolted forwards and hugged Obi-Wan tightly, her clay arms molding themselves slightly around him.

“Er. Thank you?” Obi-Wan said, wondering if it would be against the Code to return the hug. She didn’t seem to plan on letting go anytime soon, so he settled for patting her on the back. 

He looked around, and found Qui-Gon looking at him with a bemused expression. 

“My soon-to-be-former Padawan, how is it that you took on a rule-breaking apprentice before I could?” 

Obi-Wan gave him a wry smile. “What can I say, Master? You trained me well.” 

For just a moment before he schooled his features into appropriately faint approval, Qui-Gon looked prouder than Obi-Wan had ever seen him. 

As Ahsoka’s ship hurtled through hyperspace, she kept coming back to one thought: By nudging Obi-Wan towards the first Nightsister Padawan in the history of the Jedi, she might’ve just given him the one apprentice that could have an Anakin-level penchant for causing headaches. 

…Although, Nightsister or not, she would still give Anakin the headache advantage any day.

The door opened. She looked up from her spot lying on the couch, and saw Dooku stepping into the lounge, carrying a tray of rations.

“Am I interrupting anything?” he said. 

 It took her several moments to realize he was voluntarily joining her. “Nope,” she said, pulling herself up into a sitting position. “Speaking of headaches…” she muttered quietly to herself. 

“Pardon?” 

“Nothing.” She wondered for a moment if maybe she should dial back her attitude towards Dooku, lest he stop talking to her entirely, but it seemed to be the only thing he’d respond to. Plus, it was cathartic.

Dooku gave her a pointed look, and then sat down, arranging utensils on his tray. He took a bite of the rations—Ahsoka almost burst out laughing at the sight of him using a knife and fork on something which ninety-nine percent of clone troopers ate with their hands or with whatever nearby object most resembled a spoon—and then gave her a long, contemplative look as he chewed.

“Yes?” Ahsoka said after several long moments had passed. 

Dooku swallowed, looked down at his tray, and then sighed loudly. “I am here to offer you more information on Galidraan.” 

“Oh, okay, you want to talk about it now.” Ahsoka was genuinely surprised. “Tell me about the Mandalorians. Were there any survivors?” 

“One.” Dooku glanced upwards, thinking. “A man named Fett.” 

And then Dooku was saying something about how they hadn’t been able to locate him afterwards, but his voice was rapidly fading into the background as the name echoed through Ahsoka’s head. 

Jango Fett. 

The last remaining link to a tragedy which Dooku’s allegiance depended on just happened to also be the template for the clone army. Really, nothing in the galaxy could ever be an isolated event.

Chapter Text

“The Force is a limitless tool.” 

Ahsoka held out her hand and let the burnt-out datapad she was holding lift into the air, spinning in a slow circle as Anakin and Shmi watched. Anakin was rapt, and although Shmi was an adult and therefore better at keeping her outward enthusiasm at manageable levels, her curiosity burned just as brightly in the Force as Anakin’s. 

“It can be an incredibly precise instrument.” Ahsoka concentrated for a moment, slowly disassembling the datapad, panels and wiring and circuitry coming apart until it was just a cloud of parts. Then she reassembled it in a matter of moments, pieces flying back together and wires re-knitting, leaving her with a datapad which looked exactly the same as before.

“It can also be a powerful weapon.” She clenched her hand into a fist, and the datapad crumpled in on itself with a visceral crunch, sending shards of metal flying. She caught them with the Force before they hit the ground. 

“There will be times when you need the Force to be a weapon. There will be times when you need it to be an instrument. And there will be many other times when you need it to be something in between. It’s a Jedi’s job to know how to best apply the Force to any situation.” 

She stopped there, letting her words hang in the air as their ship hurtled through hyperspace, almost to Rattatak. She didn’t have a plan yet for teaching. She was just showing things to Anakin and Shmi when they became relevant, or when she thought of them. Maybe that wasn’t how most other masters did it, but she blamed it on Anakin, who had never once had a plan for anything in his life. She’d turned out fine, so doing it again would probably work, right?

Still, though… She needed to find out just how many Jedi customs she’d missed out on due to Anakin never bothering to introduce them to her. 

“Is there anything the Force can’t do?” Anakin (child) said—once again ignorant of Jedi practices but for a completely different reason than before.

“Well.” Ahsoka put away the wrecked datapad, thinking on the question. “You know, for a long time it would’ve been much easier for me to say it has limits, but…” She shrugged. “I just time-traveled through a few millennia. So who knows? It’s the life force that binds together our world, our existence. Maybe anything is possible.” 

Anakin nodded, looking as thoughtful as a nine-year-old could look. “So can the Force bring people back from the dead?” 

Ahsoka blinked. 

“Um,” she said. 

She didn’t know how to respond. Because the answer to that question was yes. An unequivocal, resounding yes. Ahsoka witnessed proof of it every fucking day. One of the many parts of the proof was the person asking this question. 

But also, Anakin was probably talking about the individual level. Intentionally bringing back one person. And that, she didn’t know—

Oh. Wait. That had literally happened to her. Mortis. 

…In her defense, she didn’t technically remember being brought back to life. There was a yawning gap in her memories of Mortis that ended with her gasping for breath next to the Daughter’s body as her heart hammered back into a living rhythm and Anakin (adult) hugged her as tightly as possible.

So, theoretically, the Force could bring someone back from the dead… but only if—

Mortis. 

Ahsoka nearly choked on her own tongue as reality caught up with her. The Daughter, the Father, the Son, they were alive now. Were they the ones who’d made her travel through time? Well, no. They couldn’t be. They’d been dead for years before(?) Ahsoka was thrown back in time, but—well, they were Force gods, could they bring themselves back from the dead? Or had they turned back time  so they would be brought to life—wait, that didn’t make sense—

“Ahsoka?” 

Ahsoka startled, and realized Shmi and Anakin were staring at her with more than a little concern. 

“I take it that’s not an easy question to answer?” Shmi said. 

You have no idea, Ahsoka thought. She decided to worry about Mortis later. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that could be investigated immediately. 

“I don’t know,” she said, because that was always a good answer. “If it can… it would take a lot of Force energy. Think about it. If you’re bringing back someone from the dead, you’re going against the cycle of life and death. That cycle’s been going uninterrupted for billions of years in every corner of the galaxy. How much Force energy do you think you’d need to take all that momentum and turn it around?”

“A lot?” Anakin said. 

“Yup. It’d be like trying to stop a planet from spinning. Actually…” She tilted her head, looking at the interminable swirls of hyperspace. “I think stopping a planet’s rotation would be easier. Because that’s just stopping one thing. But if you’re trying to bring someone back to life, it’s not only about power, how much you can shove the Force around. You’ve got to bring every single cell in someone’s body back to life, at the same time, and that takes finesse, control, more than anyone in the galaxy has.”

The threshold for revival seemed to be channeling the Force through a literal Force goddess’s dying body, which was what Anakin said they had to do to bring her back on Mortis. So… she wouldn’t be counting on ever being able to bring somebody back from the dead. 

Anakin and Shmi didn’t say anything else. After a few moments, Ahsoka reached for the next part of her lesson. “So! On that cheerful note, I’m going to have you try what I did with something simpler than a datapad.” She held out a wooden puzzle cube, the kind of thing that would be given to a child to amuse them for a few minutes. “I want you two to work with each other and try to take this apart.” 

Unbidden, a familiar phrase from a certain green Jedi echoed through her head. Do or do not. There is no try. 

Yoda could whack her on the knees with his stick all he wanted, but she would not be passing that utterly stupid bit of advice onto her apprentices. A decade-plus of trying to take down the Empire had taught her just how much trying could happen without any doing. 

“And then try to reassemble it,” she added, pulling herself out of her thoughts again. She floated the cube through the air towards Anakin, who clumsily took hold of it in the Force and pushed it towards Shmi, the cube bobbing and spinning in the air between Ahsoka’s two apprentices. 

“How is this helping us fight bad guys?” Anakin said, his brow adorably scrunched with concentration. 

“Precision. If someone was pointing a blaster at you…” Ahsoka shrugged. “You could crush their windpipe with the Force, and that would sort of solve your problem, but usually we try to keep people alive. Maybe the blaster wielder is someone you need to get some information from, or somebody you might be able to convince to help you, or someone who’s being forced to do things against their will, or… There’s a million good reasons not to kill someone, and not very many good reasons to do it.” 

Unfortunately, during the Empire… there had been so many reasons to kill. All of them despicably necessary. One example: A random stormtrooper. In the wrong place at the wrong time. Saw her using the Force. He got a blaster bolt through the head. Maybe that soldier posed no threat, but she could never, ever let herself be spotted. 

Things like that, just one of many, made her wonder if she could ever call herself a Jedi again. 

Anakin and Shmi had mostly succeeded in getting the puzzle cube taken apart by now. It was really nice to have a prodigy and an adult as apprentices. It meant that she’d been able to skip over some of the more mind-numbingly simple tasks that Younglings had to go through, like “Can you hold a feather in the air with the Force” (answer: they could, after about four minutes). 

The last wooden block slid smoothly into place, and Anakin giggled with glee.

“Why not simply use the Force to pull the blaster out of the attacker’s hands?” Shmi said, handing the puzzle back to Ahsoka. 

Ahsoka could feel Shmi’s concern again, so she took a deep breath and pulled herself back in. “That’s a possibility. But if the attacker knows they’re facing a Jedi, they might be able to anticipate that. So, consider this: what if you used the Force to detach the ammo cartridge from the blaster? Then they’re just holding a broken weapon.” 

Anakin’s eyes went very, very wide. “Whoa! Coooooool…”  

Internally, Ahsoka let herself preen a little bit. Oh, if Adult Anakin could’ve known that he was calling her cool right now. She would’ve never let him live that down. 

A beeping from the navcomputer caught her attention. She looked over, and realized they were about to drop out of hyperspace. 

“Oh, Rattatak already.” She took back the controls just as realspace surrounded them again. Rattatak loomed ahead. Ahsoka’s first impression was that it looked… drab. Although it had a strange feeling in the Force that she couldn’t quite pin down. Ventress? 

There were a lot of things she didn’t know about Ventress. She’d thought Ventress grew up on Dathomir with all the other Nightsisters—but no, this was a backwater planet that probably hadn’t seen a Jedi in centuries. Had she been a Sith all along, then? Hidden away and raised to be an acolyte who would be unleashed against the Jedi? 

Before she could ruminate any further, a shrill beeping filled the cockpit.

She snapped to attention, looking around. It didn’t sound like any of the ship’s alarms she recognized, and so it took her a few extra moments to track the source to… the transmitter? 

The door to the cockpit slammed open. Dooku strode in, his face drawn. He went to the transmitter without taking a single notice of anyone else, and bent over it, rapidly tapping out something she couldn’t make out. 

Shmi asked the question on the tip of Ahsoka’s tongue. “What’s going on?”

Dooku didn’t look up. “There is a Jedi distress beacon active on this planet.” He pushed one more button, and the beeping was replaced by a hiss of static. 

Well, no wonder Ahsoka didn’t recognize that alarm. She hadn’t heard it in over a decade. 

They listened in tense silence for a few moments, and then—

“Hello?! Is someone there? This thing just started making a new sound, I don’t even know what it means, just please be something good—”

It was a voice younger, higher, and much more desperate than what Ahsoka remembered, but there was no mistaking it. 

Asajj Ventress. 

She leaned over the microphone, not-so-gently herding Dooku out of the way, and spoke to yet another ghost from her past.

“This is Jedi Knight Ahsoka Tano. Who am I speaking to?” 

“Oh, thank the Force!” 

It wasn’t the relief in the reply that shocked Ahsoka. It was the fact that Ventress was replying at all. The Asajj she knew never would have been so easily and immediately trusting of a mysterious transmission. And thanking the Force? She’d only ever heard Ventress curse it. She wasn’t sounding very Sith-like yet. 

“Child,” Dooku said, not-so-gently pushing Ahsoka back to get in front of the microphone again. “Why are you in possession of a Jedi distress beacon?” 

“It’s my Master’s—You have to help him! This—this beast took him!” Asajj’s tone abruptly veered into something Ahsoka had never heard from her: Franticness. “It’s—I don’t even know what to call it, it’s got tattoos and a red lightsaber and it cuts through people like a scythe through grass and it might be a Sith but my Master said the Sith are extinct but it took him!”

It’s my Master’s. 

The words pinballed around Ahsoka’s brain, and several things abruptly fell into place. Ventress wasn’t talking about a Sith master. She was talking about a Jedi master.

She forced her disbelief down, looked up, and found Dooku looking at her already. 

“You’re about to get that extra-close look at the Sith you wanted,” she said. “Prepare to be disappointed.” 

The beacon led them to a dilapidated landing pad at the edge of a small settlement. Fat drops of rain splattered against the viewport as Ahsoka touched the ship down.

“Well,” she said after a few moments of staring at the storm outside. “Time to do some Sith hunting.” She could sense Maul already, a swirling cloud of incandescent rage somewhere on this planet. 

As she stood up and stretched sore muscles, she noticed a different sensation in the Force, this one very close to her. In the cockpit, in fact. It was terror, but the strangest sort of terror she’d ever felt. Joyful terror, if there was such a thing. 

Then she turned, saw Shmi and Anakin completely frozen and staring at the rainstorm outside, and understood. 

“…Never seen rain before?” she said to the two freepeople newly liberated from a desert planet. Anakin was hiding slightly behind Shmi, clutching her hand and watching the rain. His Force-presence, not muted in the slightest, radiated awe and hunger. 

“It doesn’t feel right,” Shmi said. “I should be catching every single drop of this water. And yet, we’re just standing here.” She twitched, like she was about to sprint outside. “On Tatooine, to hear of places in the galaxy where water simply falls from the sky… It was mythology to us.”

“You… can stay with the ship? If you want?” Ahsoka offered, not knowing if that was anything close to what they wanted. 

Shmi shook her head violently. “We wouldn’t miss this for all the gold in the galaxy.”

Ahsoka nodded. “Do you want ponchos?” 

They both stared blankly at her, and then she realized that they’d never used a poncho for anything besides protection from the desert. 

“To shield yourselves from the rain,” she added. 

Neither of them looked any less confused.

“Why?” Anakin said.

“Believe it or not, young one, some people in this galaxy do not like getting wet.” Dooku came up beside them, cloaked in a dark maroon poncho that looked like it cost more than the ship they were flying. “Shall we find this wayward child and her master before our ship drowns?” 

When they arrived at the open boarding ramp a few moments later, Shmi and Anakin paused, staring out at the sheets of rain. 

“At this moment, I would be the richest person on Tatooine,” Shmi said faintly, before reaching down and picking up Anakin. She hugged him to her. “Let’s revel in our fortune, Ani.” 

With that, they walked out into the driving rain, Shmi’s movements slow at first, and then suddenly faster. An ecstatic burst of laughter escaped her throat as she turned her face skyward, letting the raindrops splash off her face. Anakin was twisting around endlessly in her arms, reaching out wildly as if he could grab the raindrops—and honestly, given how the Force wavered around him, he might actually be doing that. 

Shmi lifted Anakin above her and spun in a circle, holding him at arm’s length, making water fly off his body. They were both laughing now, laughing and crying a little bit until Shmi came to a stop and crouched down, the mother and child hugging each other as tightly as possible. 

The Force glowed so brightly that it lit up the rain around them, turning the drops a faint orange and making it look as if it was raining sparks. 

Ahsoka closed her eyes and reveled in the warmth and happiness that the Force radiated in that moment. She let a large smile spread across her face. 

And then she noticed Dooku. His arms were crossed and his face was impassive, but there was no missing the satisfaction and the surprise that he felt as he watched Ahsoka’s Padawans. 

Ahsoka nudged him gently. “The Force sure does feel nice when good things happen, huh?”

“He is strong with the Force,” Dooku said.

Apparently he felt that was an acceptable way of replying, because he didn’t say anything else. Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Yes, I have found that is a common trait amongst members of the Jedi Order.” She let a little bit of Obi-Wan’s dry wit slip into her voice. 

Dooku huffed. “You are perfectly aware of my meaning. This child is unusual.” 

“So is his mom.” 

“There has been a rumor circulating that he is a child of prophecy, the Chosen One.” 

“Banthashit,” Ahsoka said.

She would never say this aloud, but she had her own very personal reasons for believing Anakin wasn’t the Chosen One. Although, it was probably more like knowing. How could Anakin be the Chosen One if the Sith had won? How could the Chosen One die in a galaxy that still very much needed saving? 

Honestly, the more she thought about it, the more flawed the idea of a chosen one felt. What kind of galaxy was this if it could only be saved by one specific person?

She wondered if Anakin’s propensity for throwing himself into danger came from a belief in destiny making him feel invincible. She wondered if that was why he’d faced Vader. She wondered if it was the reason why her Anakin was dead. 

Of course, she didn’t say any of that. Instead, she said, “He’s a kid that wants to help people.” 

Dooku studied her for a moment, and then nodded. “Good.” 

Oh good, he wasn’t going to be weird about it. Which was refreshing, given how weird he could get about things. 

She put up her hood and stepped out into the rain, silently promising herself that she wouldn’t let Anakin fall to a Sith this time around. 

Some people had gathered at the edge of the landing pad, watching the Jedi curiously. Their outlines were indistinct in the rain, but a quick pass of the Force told her that Ventress wasn’t among them. She turned in a slow circle, scanning the perimeter. It seemed that Ventress had realized it would be smart to be suspicious of them, and was likely lurking somewhere, watching them.

A flurry of movement from next to her caught her eye, and she turned just in time to see Dooku grasping wildly as his cloak flew away from him. Anakin was a few meters away, his arm outstretched and giggling madly as the cloak flew into his hands and a spluttering Dooku was suddenly drenched with rain.

She smirked, and then stiffened as the Force tickled at her neck. 

She didn’t respond immediately, not wanting to make a sudden movement, instead turning slowly to see a shed at the corner of the landing pad. There was a slight shift of color, like someone who’d been peering around the corner had abruptly pulled back to avoid being spotted. 

When she began to walk slowly in that direction, the Force shifted. Someone was trying very hard to conceal themselves and subconsciously convince Ahsoka to go look somewhere else. As she moved closer, the presence rapidly turned into outright terror. She took that as her cue to speak. 

“Hello,” she said. “I’m here to help you.” 

There was a pointed silence from around the corner, the only sound the rain drumming against the ground and Anakin’s distant laughter. Just as she wondered if she should try coming closer, Ventress spoke, her voice sounding even smaller than over the comm. 

“Prove it.” 

After a moment’s contemplation, Ahsoka unclipped her lightsabers and tossed them around the corner. They clattered against something. She sensed movement, and then heard the sabers igniting. A pause, and then: 

“White blades?” There was a dubious tilt to Ventress’s voice. 

Ahsoka nodded. “It means I killed a Sith.” 

There was a gasp, another blade ignited, and suddenly, Ahsoka was facing Asajj Ventress. Her breath caught in her throat. Ventress was so young. 

She was looking into a rounder face, less skeletal than Ahsoka remembered, a short curtain of hair sweeping across one side of her head—and even that short length was longer than anything Ahsoka had seen on Ventress before. She was… eighteen at most? She didn’t actually know Ventress’s age—there were a lot of things she’d never learned about Ventress—and now she was realizing that this was an almost perfect reversal of roles. Once upon a time, she’d been a traumatized teenager thrust into a terrifying situation way above her head, with Ventress the unlikely adult appearing out of nowhere to help her. 

“What are you doing here?” Her face was pinched with fear and suspicion as she sized up Ahsoka. She would’ve fit right in with the rest of the traumatized teen Nightsisters, if not for her Jedi-style tunic and the glowing green lightsaber she clutched. And the Padawan braid nestled in her hair. 

She’d arrived at this conclusion already, but she still couldn’t make it fit inside her understanding of the galaxy. Asajj Ventress, Padawan Learner. How? 

“You’re a Jedi?” she said, and there was no keeping the disbelief out of her voice. 

She sensed Shmi and Anakin and Dooku joining her, and put out a hand to warn them off getting too close to a delicate situation. 

Ventress bristled. “I have been trained for over ten years by Master Ky Narec.” She shifted her lightsaber slightly, making it hiss violently in the rain. She was in an attack stance—a clear warning. “Are you?” 

“Ky Narec?” 

The name meant something to Dooku, because he was stepping forward with a suddenly ashen expression. “He went missing twelve years ago, and has been long presumed dead.” 

“You are Jedi!” Ventress relaxed with relief so suddenly she looked as if she was about to collapse, and now her tone was full of hope. “You’re here to rescue my Master?” 

“Absolutely. The Sith who kidnapped him—we’ve been tracking him, and, well…” Ahsoka gave Ventress her cockiest smirk. “I’m the reason why he’s got prosthetic hands now.”

Ventress stared at her. “You couldn’t have finished the job?!” 

Now that outrage sounded more like the Ventress Ahsoka knew. “We need him alive.” 

Ventress made a disgusted noise and turned away. “Sure. But I’m doing whatever it takes to rescue my Master.” 

“I don’t understand,” Dooku said as they bounced along in a rickety speeder that seemed older than the dirt which caked its floor. “The assignment which Master Narec went missing on was in an entirely different part of the galaxy.” 

“Yup.” Ventress didn’t look away from the controls when she replied. The speeder was careening through a narrow canyon, barely dodging piles of rocks and jagged overhangs. Ahsoka had the impression that this had once been a much larger canyon now reshaped by rockslides. 

“Followed some smugglers here, got stranded. Found me when I was a kid. Took me as his Padawan, trained me. You follow?” 

You’re still a kid, was the only thought Ahsoka had in response to what was being said.

“You couldn’t simply leave?” Dooku said, sounding utterly mystified.

Ventress snorted and yanked the speeder sideways to avoid a large boulder, nearly sending everyone careening across the cabin. “The only people who leave this planet are the pirates. Believe me, we tried to steal their ships. But there was always too many of them, too many guns and not enough time.”  

“But we saw settlements, life, people,” Shmi said. “They hardly looked pirate-like. No one would let you use a ship?” 

Ventress shrugged. “They’re like me and my Master. The detritus of piracy and slavery and violence and whatever else is terrible in the galaxy, washed up on this planet over the years with no way to leave. Some of them are good people. Some aren’t. But there isn’t a single spaceworthy ship on this planet.” 

“This planet is weird,” Anakin said. Honestly, Ahsoka agreed with him. 

“It’s just a pirate hideout,” Ventress said. “If you actually live here… The galaxy’s forgotten about you. Everything you see is scrounged up from what the pirates leave behind. Including me.” Her shoulders slumped visibly as she pulled back on the throttle, slowing their speeder. “My Master and I, we’ve tried to make something out of all this. Help the good and fight the bad, but we’re only two Jedi. There’s only so much we can do.” She paused, and then shuddered. “And then that thing showed up. Speaking of which. We’re here.” 

Ahsoka didn’t know what to say, except that she suddenly understood a lot more about Ventress. This explained a lot of her “the only person you can trust is yourself” attitude. She’d never heard of Ky Narec, so she was guessing he’d died in the original timeline. Probably violently. And from there, a lost and traumatized Jedi Padawan? It almost seemed inevitable that she’d ended up being Dooku’s apprentice. Speaking of which…

Ahsoka eyed Dooku and Ventress as she climbed out of the speeder. She had not missed the irony of these two working together as Jedi. And actually, with Maul somewhere nearby, that made three of Sidious’s former Dark Side pawns running around on the same planet. Funny that. 

…Of course, it would be a lot better if it was four pawns. Every day she didn’t track down Vader was another day he could be growing stronger somewhere. 

She spotted Anakin struggling to climb over the edge of the speeder and leaned over to lift him out. 

“He’s back,” Anakin said as she set him down. 

“Who?” 

“The scary guy from Naboo.” 

“Yup. Good sensing.” Ahsoka ruffled his hair and surveyed their surroundings. The canyon had opened up into a large pit, and in front of them was a yawning hole in the rock face, containing nothing but impenetrable darkness. A mine, she realized, as she spotted a pile of dilapidated equipment near the entrance. 

“He’s in here,” Ventress said. “I can sense him, but he’s not even trying to hide. It’s like he’s taunting me. Daring me to go after him.” She kicked aside a piece of scrap and squinted at the entrance. “The worst part is, I was really fucking tempted.” 

“He’s trying to recruit you,” Ahsoka said. 

Ventress whirled and stared at her. “What?” 

Ahsoka took a deep breath. This… was going to be a lot to explain. But before she could get a single word out, an immense rumble filled the air around them, so loud it shook the ground. At least, that was why she thought the ground was shaking, until it gave way under their feet and sent them all tumbling down into a void.

For what felt like an eternity, Ahsoka was operating on a level that couldn’t really be called conscious thought. Yes, she was aware of her body falling through space amidst an avalanche of rock and dirt, and she could sense everyone else in freefall around her, but it wasn’t her brain which was reacting to everything. It was some level of herself so deep and instinctual that she didn’t even know it’d existed until now, some raw reflex firing in her body and sending out a shield of Force energy and surrounding everyone, protecting them from the rockfall and pulling them closer to her, bracing herself and everyone—

She didn’t even notice the impact. One second they were falling, and the next second she was on one knee and she could feel a single rock pressing into her back. It was just the very tip of the avalanche which threatened to crush them all. Somehow, she was holding it all back with the Force. Some indeterminate amount of time later, actual thoughts began to flow through her head again, and she became aware of her rapid panting and the pulse throbbing in her ears. 

They’d fallen into a mineshaft. She could see the glow of green and blue lightsabers just ahead—Dooku and Ventress. Two more dim outlines beside them gave her peace of mind—Shmi and Anakin were also safe.

Abruptly, she heard Dooku’s voice saying, “Don’t resist.” 

Before she had time to ask what that was supposed to mean, she was yanked forwards with astonishing speed. Everything she’d been holding back collapsed as she flew through the air, pebbles clattering off her armor plates. 

Then she was lying on the ground and notably not being buried alive. The rumble trailed off in the background, fading into creaks and groans of shifting but somewhat stable ground. Dooku and Ventress stood above her, and in her dazed state, she couldn’t fight off the instinctual surge of alarm at seeing those two faces staring at her with their hands raised. 

“The tunnel is intact here. We’re not in immediate danger.” Dooku said, apparently sensing her fear. 

What? Danger? Why would a Sith Lord and his apprentice be worried about danger—Oh. Right. The rational part of Ahsoka’s brain finally caught up with her instincts. She managed to collect herself with a few deep breaths and slowly got to her feet. Her arms and legs were tingling strangely, and she had to shake them out several times to get normal feeling back. She ignited her lightsabers and looked around. There wasn’t a single trace of daylight, only the multicolored lights cast by their sabers. In one direction, a wall of tightly packed rock. In the other direction, a tunnel with no end in sight. 

“Everyone’s alright?” she asked, trying not to grind her teeth too hard. She really, really hated being underground. Maybe it was her Togruta blood; after all, her ancestral people lived on grasslands and slept under the stars. Yenna would’ve been really helpful right about now. 

“Was something glowing near you?” Shmi said. 

Ahsoka blinked at her, genuinely unsure what she could be talking about. “My… lightsabers?” 

“No, it was before you turned them on.”

“Huh.” Ahsoka reached into the Force, but sensed nothing. “Well… If it’s something, we’ll deal with it whenever it shows up.” 

There was only one direction they could go, so after a few moments of hesitation, they started down the tunnel. Ahsoka was very aware of the sensation of the tunnel sloping down, bringing them deeper into the planet. Their lightsabers cast undulating shadows over the rock walls which only put her further on edge. 

A tap at her waist. She looked down and saw Anakin staring at her with worry. 

“Are you okay?” he said. 

His tone was so serious that she had to seriously consider her entire body for a moment, just in case there was a gaping wound on her body she’d somehow missed. But she was fine. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked finally. 

“You felt different,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know.” There was a little bit of frustration to his voice now, like he’d already tried to figure it out and failed. “You were just… different. It’s gone, but I felt it.”

“Good different or bad different?” 

“I don’t know. Just, different.” 

“Huh.” Ahsoka decided she’d deal with that later. “Let’s concentrate on chasing the bad guy through the abandoned mine, okay?” 

That got a little giggle out of Anakin, and the matter ended there. A few minutes later, they arrived at an intersection with another mineshaft, each possible avenue looking equally desolate. They stopped and looked around, the Force being very unhelpfully silent right now. 

“Hey.” Ventress was looking at her. “You said this lunatic wants me on his side?” 

“...More likely, he wants you as his apprentice,” Ahsoka said. 

Ventress snorted. “If he lets my Master go, then we can talk about it. He showed up and made real short work of a bunch of warlords we’ve been fighting for years. You know…” Her tone turned thoughtful in a way Ahsoka didn’t like. “When he came after us, we didn’t stand a chance. What did we do wrong when this thing came in and did in two days what we couldn’t do in a decade?”

Suddenly, Ahsoka was looking at Ventress much more sharply than a minute ago. Because this was exactly how… Exactly how bad choices started happening, really. 

“Because you care about helping people before you care about hurting people,” Shmi said. “And that will always be more important.” 

“Okay.” Ventress did not sound reassured in the slightest. 

“Maybe we should be—” Ventress started to say, before cutting herself off. “Sorry. That’s not very Jedi-like of me.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Ahsoka said. “You can think things like that. Every Jedi does. What were you going to say?” 

“I…” Ventress trailed off. “I—” 

Then she froze. Her eyes went incredibly wide, focusing on something behind Ahsoka. 

“What—” Ahsoka started, only to be cut off by Ventress’s cry of “MASTER!” 

She whirled around, only to see nothing and feel nothing. But Ventress was staring down that tunnel like she could see something under a spotlight.

“Master!” she gasped again, stepping forward. “What—what happened to you?! What did that thing do to you?” Then she winced violently, like something new and horrifying had just happened in front of her eyes. “No—I’m coming!” 

She was off, sprinting down one of the tunnels, her saber swinging wildly and flashing through the darkness, completely ignoring Ahsoka’s shout of “Asajj, NO! It’s a trick! Don’t—” 

And then the light of her saber abruptly vanished, a shriek piercing the air and then rapidly fading away. A fraction of a second later, an enormous metal door slammed down in front of Ahsoka, close enough that the breeze rushed by her face, cutting off that tunnel and any hopes of giving chase. 

“Fuck.” Ahsoka turned to the rest of the group. “We stay together. If Maul’s—”

She was drowned out by a familiar voice echoing through the mine, deep and booming and darkly satisfied. 

“Do you sense my strength, young one? It is the strength of the Dark Side.” 

Maul. She spun in a circle, seeing nothing. 

“I heard every word of what you said to those Jedi weaklings. You are so very right to question everything that you were taught, because none of it is true. It is a rare and valuable thing indeed to see through the lies of the Jedi and recognize the Dark Side for what it is: The stronger, better way.” 

Suddenly, Ventress’s voice cracked the air like she was right next to them again. “SHUT UP! Give me my Master back!” 

Wait, if they could hear Ventress, could she—

“Ventress?” Ahsoka shouted at the top of her lungs. “Ventress, can you hear us?” 

Silence. 

“Yes, your Master. Who you failed to protect with your Jedi teachings,” Maul said. “What would you do to save him?”

“I’ll kill you, you bastard,” Ventress’s voice hissed across Ahsoka’s brain, sounding so much like the cornered Nightsisters on Dathomir.

“Spirit and determination. I do not doubt you will try, young one. Your Master told me as much. Would you like to hear him?” 

Now a new voice, ragged with exhaustion, floated through the air. “Asajj… Don’t listen to a word he says. He’s only trying to take advantage of you.” 

“Master Narec,” Dooku whispered, his voice approaching something like awe. “I truly believed he was dead.” It was an entirely new emotion to hear in his voice. 

There was silence—it seemed everyone in the mine was waiting for Ventress to reply. But aside from a choked sob, there was nothing. 

“Think on it,” Maul rumbled. “And as fuel for your thoughts…” 

His words were punctuated with a cry of pain from Narec, and nothing else.

They stood in silence once more, Shmi hugging Anakin close to her as genuine fear played over their expressions. Dooku appeared lost in thought. 

Ahsoka, meanwhile, was letting the echoes wash over her, using the Force to seek out the source of the soundwaves, the direction where they’d come from—

Her eyes flew open. They needed to take the left tunnel. 

“Follow me,” she said to the others. “And Do. Not. Get. Separated.” 

They plunged once more into the unknown.

Chapter Text

Twenty seconds of running later, the light from Dooku’s saber abruptly vanished, and so did his Force presence and his outline in her montral-sense. 

“Dooku!” She whirled, putting a firm hand on Anakin’s shoulder, and called into the darkness. “Dooku!”

Nothing. Her heart sank as she realized if Dooku could disappear so quickly, then it would be even easier for Shmi and Anakin to be separated from her—their only light source.

She extinguished her saber and took their hands in hers. “Shmi. Anakin. I’m going to show you how to see without your eyes. Can you concentrate with me?” She tried to keep her voice as calm as she could manage for Anakin.  

They were in complete darkness. No problem for her, but her Padawans… Anakin radiated fear. 

“The Force is all around you,” she said. “So it can tell you what else is around you.” 

She got two quick nods in response.

“Listen to the Force like it’s the wind blowing across your body, and build an image of your environment in your mind.” 

She felt the Force moving sluggishly around Shmi and Anakin, groping tentatively out from them as they felt out their environment. 

“Think of it like echolocation. What do you see?” Ahsoka said.

“Uh. Rocks,” Anakin said.

“I would hope so, Padawan.” Ahsoka bopped him gently on the head. “We are underground, after all.” 

Anakin giggled, and she felt his fear diminish a little. 

 “There’s a big one ahead of us.”

“How big?” 

“Um… blocking the tunnel.” 

“Well, that’s not good.” Ahsoka shifted. She’d already sensed the boulder, and a way around it, but she wanted to see if they could find it themselves. “Shmi? What about you?” 

“I think there’s enough space by the wall to squeeze through.”

“Yup!” She straightened, letting go of them, and ignited her lightsaber again. “I’d love to spend more time on that lesson, but we need to keep moving.” 

“Where are we going?” Anakin said. 

“Maul.” 

They arrived at the aforementioned boulder, and Ahsoka pushed herself through the gap first, scanning the tunnel ahead. “All cl—”

And then everything around her disappeared. 

On complete instinct, Ahsoka slashed out in a wide arc, but her saber connected with nothing. A sinking feeling gripped her stomach. She’d been standing right next to a boulder several seconds ago. Her saber should’ve run right into it. 

“Anakin? Shmi?” she shouted, but she knew it was futile even as the names left her mouth. Their Force presences were entirely gone from her senses.

She ignited her second lightsaber and turned in a circle, and the darkness became stranger with every moment. 

Before, the white glow of her sabers had thrown shadows and cast shimmering light on everything, but now there was nothing. Just an infinite blackness. The only thing catching any light was her own body. Not even the ground below her feet was visible. She could feel herself standing on something, but she could’ve been floating in deep space for all she sensed. 

Actually, this was more disorienting than deep space, because here there were no stars.

“We meet again, Tano.” 

Upon hearing Maul’s unmistakable voice behind her, Ahsoka threw her lightsaber at the sound as hard as possible. She turned just in time to see it pass harmlessly through a ghostly image of him. 

“Too scared to face me in person?” she said, calling her lightsaber back to her hand. Sickly green smoke surrounded Maul… which looked a lot like Nightsister magic. 

Maul only gave her a ghoulish smile before he began to move in a slow circle around her. “What an unfortunate situation I have found you in. Without your friends… Without your apprentices… Without the girl. All alone. Nobody to help you in the face of my newfound power.” The smoke around his image flared brightly.  

“Interesting,” she said blandly. So it was Nightsister magic, and for the first time, Ahsoka felt a genuine surge of uncertainty as she considered Maul. She’d never fought something like that before. So, faced with the genuine possibility that he might have an advantage over her for the first time, she went on the verbal offensive. 

“Are you stupid? You’re still trying to kill me? What about Sidious? You know, the guy who betrayed you? And tried to kill you? And committed a genocide on your home planet?” 

Oh, she’d hit a nerve. He was angry. He was so angry. The Force was crackling around him like he was about to dissolve into nothing but lightning. But somehow, he managed to keep his features in a state of nothing but mild annoyance. 

“Make no mistake, Tano. I will kill Lord Sidious. I will destroy all of his carefully laid plans and prove myself the true Master.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. “But you will die before anyone else.” 

His magical hologram was close enough that Ahsoka had to reach out and poke it with her lightsaber, just to check if it would affect him now. 

It didn’t. Maul stared down at the lightsaber piercing his chest, and then went on like she hadn’t done anything. “You will be my first revenge. That is the oath I have sworn.” 

Ahsoka sighed and retracted her lightsaber. “Hey. I want to kill Sidious. You want to kill Sidious. Did it ever occur to you that we can team up to kill him, and then you can kill me?” 

Maul made a sound which she could’ve called a chuckle if she went mildly insane. 

“A Jedi so eager to ally with a Sith? What a rare thing. A surprisingly tempting offer, I will admit, but… No.” 

Ahsoka was once again struck by a painful bit of irony. In her old timeline, it had been Maul asking her to work with him against Sidious. She’d wondered many times over the years if turning down his offer had doomed the galaxy. 

“Why?” she said. “How could the order of your revenges possibly matter?!” It was a futile question, because Maul’s entire existence was just one big unanswered ‘why.’ Which was why she was so stunned when he gave an answer that felt honest. 

Maul raised an eyebrow, as if she’d just asked a painfully obvious question. “I know I cannot defeat Lord Sidious until I have defeated you.” 

“What am I, your measuring stick?” There was something in his tone now that unsettled her. 

“Precisely. When I kill you, I will know I can kill Sidious. You are my test.” 

Ahsoka gave a short, sarcastic laugh. “How many times do you have to fail your test before you get the message?” 

“I assure you that I will no longer underestimate you.” He began to circle her again, folding his arms behind his back. “I now know your secret.”

Suddenly, Ahsoka felt as if a poison-tipped needle had been placed at the back of her neck, just barely touching her skin. She couldn’t even muster a reply as Maul kept circling. If Maul could discover the truth, what was stopping Sidious—

“Mother Talzin’s spirit called you a Jedi out of place and time, and now it all makes sense. You are a Jedi of the Old Republic.” 

Ahsoka stared at him, and tried desperately not to burst out laughing and possibly give away how fantastically close Maul had come to the truth while missing completely. Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite stop a half-snort from escaping. She covered it up immediately in her most casually mocking of tones. “Not much of a secret when half the Jedi Temple knows about it.” 

“My senses did not mislead me when I felt something different about you. You are a Jedi after all, but I was right in surmising that you cannot possibly be one of this era’s spineless weaklings. You hail from a time when the Jedi were more akin to lords and soldiers. Your mettle was sharpened by Sith who wielded power beyond what even my Master could dream of. You were trained by a Jedi Order which believed in fighting for their creed, rather than timidly obeying the will of the weak, as today’s Jedi do.”

Ahsoka shrugged. “So?” Oh, if only he knew. 

Maul suddenly turned and walked away from her, his smoky form growing more indistinct. The Force was frustratingly muffled in this shadow realm they were in, but Ahsoka suddenly had the sneaking sensation that she was being moved even as nothing around her changed. 

“The path you have carved through this rotting, stupefied galaxy in such a short time is a testament to your ancient prowess. You are the only Jedi in this galaxy that I will feel honored to strike down, rather than irritated and disgusted.” 

Maul had his back to her, but at that moment, the Force shrieked to Ahsoka that she needed to block behind her right now—

She crossed her sabers behind her just as a red blade appeared out of thin air, catching it only inches from her backside. 

The shadow realm dissolved as she spun away, and sensation flooded her again. She registered new surroundings: a giant underground chamber, a bonfire with bright red flame providing the only light, crisscrossing catwalks overhead, rusting excavation vehicles, and Maul directly in front of her. 

She backed up, eyeing his single-bladed lightsaber. “Oh, hey. New lightsaber. And new hands.”  

“These were Dathomir’s last gifts to me,” Maul said, his eyes flicking to the blade for a brief moment and then back to her. “I found them amongst the ruins. And with it, I will strike down everyone responsible for the destruction of my people.” 

He leapt, and Ahsoka blocked a downward strike, landing in a saberlock. “You couldn’t strike down a tree if it handed you the axe,” she snapped out through gritted teeth. 

“It was not my only gift.” 

The bonfire flared, its flame tripling in height and lashing against the ceiling. Ghoulish faces faded in and out of existence inside, frozen in fear and pain. Then Maul stepped back, and the fire leapt downward, wrapping around his body like an enormous snake, the blood-red of the flames perfectly matching his tattoos. 

He raised a prosthetic hand, as if to strike, but abruptly he paused, looking at something above and behind Ahsoka. 

“We have an observer, Tano,” he said, a note of amusement creeping into his voice. “I believe one of your companions has managed to find us.” 

What? Ahsoka turned slowly—the Nightsister magic still wasn’t playing nice with her senses—and then she saw it. On one of the catwalks above, Dooku stood, his cloak billowing in the updrafts from the fire. 

“Hey!” she yelled. “Want to come down and help out with this?”

No response. Apparently, this was one of Dooku’s “pick a side” moments. Wonderful. 

She’d done this before. She could do it again. She’d survived the Purge, the Empire, the Inquisition, nearly everything that evil could throw at her. She could survive Maul even if he’d learned a few magic tricks. 

Shmi was somewhere in this mine with Anakin. And Ventress was somewhere else, lost and afraid and desperate. They were all relying on her for protection. Dooku might choose Jedi or Sith depending on the outcome of this fight. Those were considerable weights to bear, but it didn’t scare Ahsoka. Instead, it filled her with a red-hot purpose which burned brighter than the fire in Maul’s hand. 

Sabers in hand, she spread her arms, leaving her guard wide open, and tilted her head at Maul. If Dooku wanted a show, he would get a show. 

“Come on, then.”

The fire coiling around Maul suddenly blazed towards her in a blindingly bright column, and it was by a matter of inches that Ahsoka brought up a Force shield, the heat of the blaze skimming her skin as it passed by. It dissipated harmlessly into the rock wall behind her.

If Maul was disappointed by that, he wasn’t showing it. Wordlessly, he raised his saber, gathered the magic around him, and charged. 

Ahsoka let him attack. Unlike their last duel, she was in no hurry. Maul was the one who needed to end the fight early and impress Dooku—and the longer this fight went on, the higher the chance Anakin and Shmi and Ventress could find their way to safety. So she slipped into the Soresu style Obi-Wan had painstakingly taught her. The Nightsister magic curling around Maul’s wrists gave extra power to his swings, making the ground shake whenever their blades met. But Ahsoka, having no need to fully meet the strikes or attempt any counters, was able to avoid what might’ve been overwhelming power to anyone fighting in her place. Maul’s confidence grew in the Force as they fought in circles around dilapidated excavators and rock trucks half-sunk into the ground. But what looked like a constant retreat was just an execution of Obi-Wan’s favorite strategy: leading the enemy to the perfect ground for defeating them. 

She could dimly sense Dooku’s presence somewhere above, but could glean nothing about what he might be thinking. She dodged around a stalagmite, which was sliced in half moments later by the path of Maul’s saber. 

“Why are you holding back?” she said, knowing that was exactly the opposite of what Maul was doing. She received a growl in response, and a downward slash that she sidestepped. 

Block, move. Block, move. Block, move. Maul hadn’t left a single cut on her. She hoped Dooku was impressed. She could sense a growing frustration in Maul, too, as it became clear her complete lack of offensive moves was by choice. An unmistakable taunt.

And then she found the ground where she’d make her move. It wasn’t much different from the rest of the ground, except for one thing Maul would not notice as long as all his focus was on her. 

She stopped, and when Maul’s next strike came, she caught it between her blades and leaned into the saberlock. Maul’s expression had become progressively more unhinged over the course of the fight, and now an unsettling mixture of rage and glee filled his features. 

“You cannot run forever,” he said. 

Ahsoka gave him a small, crooked smile. “Can you?”  

With that, she reached into the Force and twisted it just enough to swing the rusty pickaxe lying at their feet directly into Maul’s ankle. 

Maul roared in pain, so loud it made Ahsoka’s skull vibrate as she lunged and snatched his lightsaber out of his fingers while he staggered back. His leg gave out under him, and he collapsed to his knees.

She crossed her lightsabers over his neck and intoned, “You are defeated.”

“You won’t kill me,” Maul said. Ahsoka wasn’t sure whether he meant it as a question or an observation. 

She let her sabers slip closer to his neck. “Believe me, I want nothing more.” She really did want to kill him. But Maul knew exactly who Sidious was and had mountains of evidence to back it up. She could destroy Sidious right now, if she could somehow—by agreement or by force—make Maul tell the Council what he knew. That was a big if. But it felt like her best hope right now. Maul exposing Sidious was an instant-win scenario in a galaxy where her most optimistic plans for victory took at least half a decade. She just couldn't let that opportunity disappear by killing him.

“You still hope that I will ally with you. I will make you regret that hope.”

Before Ahsoka could respond, the bonfire—which had nearly gone out during their fight—roared back to life with a new flame, this one a nauseating orange which hurt to look at. 

She was confused as to this fire’s purpose until a fraction of a second later, when the flames molded themselves into a tall, looming figure, and Darth Vader stepped out of the fire. 

Vader. 

Vader. 

VADER. 

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. The logical part of her brain knew this was an illusion of Nightsister magic. The logical part of her brain knew Darth Vader could not possibly be here in this mine with them. The logical part of her brain knew Darth Vader was not supposed to appear for another decade. 

Ahsoka was not listening to the logical part of her brain. Because Vader was here and he was staring right at her and he was invincible—

Her mouth was moving. She was making sounds she couldn’t even process as she whirled to face the hulking threat marching closer to her, his empty black eyes boring into her and his cape billowing behind, and he wasn’t making a noise at all, he was just advancing slowly, not even igniting his lightsaber, this thing—  

She felt Maul’s lightsaber slipping out of her hands, pulled away by someone, and heard it ignite behind her, but could not find a reason to care. Vader would kill her before Maul could—

The sound of another lightsaber ignited, and Vader disappeared. 

Ahsoka blinked away the afterimage of the flames. Her panic fell away as she realized she was staring into empty space, crouched and sabers held at the ready and her teeth bared. She’d been growling without realizing it.

A moment later, it hit her that she should be dead. Maul had taken his saber back, and she couldn’t have fallen harder for the distraction. So why—

She turned and saw Dooku standing between her and Maul, his blade raised in defense. In defense of her. 

Maul curled his lip. “You have chosen your allegiance.” 

Dooku glanced back, saw that Ahsoka was aware of her surroundings again, and stepped aside. “I have chosen nothing,” he said solemnly. He gestured to Maul, clearly inviting him to resume the duel. 

Ahsoka stared. Honestly, she wasn’t sure which one of these idiots was giving her a bigger headache right now. 

The disgust on Maul’s face only grew, but after a moment, he turned to Ahsoka and gathered another pillar of fire in his arms. And then, without breaking eye contact with her, he launched it at Dooku, catching him squarely in the chest. 

He flew backwards, smacking into a stalagmite, and did not move from where he landed on the ground, a faint wisp of smoke emanating from his clothes. For the first time in Ahsoka’s life, she felt a wave of alarm for Dooku’s wellbeing. He’d just saved her life. Again.

“Foolish old man. I will not tolerate hypocrites.” Maul advanced lazily on her and twirled his lightsaber. “What did you see in the fire, Tano?” 

Ahsoka swallowed down the fresh growl that rose up in her throat at the mere thought of Vader’s hulking visage. She would not reveal anything. She hated how thoroughly unsettled his appearance had made her; all of her calm from earlier was shredded and Maul could tell. 

“That is the Beholder’s Fire,” Maul said. “Anyone who looks into its flames will see their most deeply held fear.” He tested her defenses with a quick strike before backing off and coming to a stop in front of a boarded-up tunnel entrance, apparently content for now with not fighting. “Whatever you saw, it turned you into nothing more than a cornered animal. I am disappointed. I would have hoped that a Knight of the Old Republic would not be so easily conquered by her fears.” 

“Have you looked?” Ahsoka snapped. Not even trying to get an edge now; just genuinely wondering. 

“I have,” Maul said. “And I saw nothing. Because I fear nothing.” 

He stepped closer, the relaxed movements draining out of his posture and the Force starting to coil tightly around him. The fight was about to resume. “And if you knew who Sidious was, you would fear him far more than whatever you saw in the flames.”

Ahsoka stared at him. A new idea rose deep in her mind, insistently making its way to the precipice of her throat. 

“Why should I consider your offer of alliance when you cannot even find your greatest fear?” Maul continued.

There was a terrifying irony in his words. He was wrong about her greatest fear, and he was also right; he knew nothing of Vader and yet he knew she couldn’t find him. Sidious was an entirely different matter. He was known. Ahsoka felt the Force shifting around her again, whispering that a great many things hung in the balance of whatever words she chose. 

She checked in the Force to confirm that Dooku was unconscious, and then she went all in. 

“Who cares about finding Sidious?” she said, shrugging. “It’s pretty easy to find the Chancellor of the Republic.”

Maul’s eyes went very, very wide. The aggression primed in his stance seemed to drain out of him all at once, and he lowered his lightsaber.

When she’d told Padmé that Sidious was Palpatine, the Force had felt like a ball of twine unwinding, spreading out new and infinite possibilities. Telling Maul, however, was like a chain being stretched beyond its capability and snapping. He was a heat-seeking proton torpedo, driven by one purpose that he would always return to: Revenge. The only question now was: Could she point him at Sidious before herself? 

“Your Master might think he’s good at hiding. And maybe he is. But he only knows how to hide from an Order which hasn’t seen a Sith in a thousand years.” She stepped forward, flipping her grip on her sabers so they were behind her, letting their glow illuminate her in silhouette—a little trick her time’s Anakin had shared. “He cannot hide from me.” 

“I underestimated you,” Maul said, and his voice was all bare honesty.

“It was plain as day from the moment I saw him. The only reason I didn’t murder him on the spot was because the Jedi themselves had no idea what laid under the smiling facade of the honored Senator from Naboo they were introducing to me.” 

She liked this. She liked that Maul was silent. 

“So,” she finished, trying not to show any sign of desperation or overeagerness, “How’s that alliance feeling now?” 

Maul had lowered his lightsaber completely, and was studying her with an expression Ahsoka had last seen on Mandalore when he was trying to convince her to join him and also spouting some utter nonsense about Anakin. 

“Let me go free,” he said abruptly, and it took Ahsoka a moment to realize he was negotiating. “And I want the girl.” 

Ahsoka shook her head violently. “You might be able to talk me into letting you go, but you will never take Asajj Ventress.” 

Maul smiled. “You don’t think she’ll choose to come with me?” 

Before Ahsoka could demonstrate just what she would do to prevent Kid Ventress from ending up like her Ventress, a rumbling filled the cave. Her first thought was what did Maul come up with now, but Maul seemed just as caught off-guard. A cave-in?

And then the boarded-up tunnel behind Maul exploded in a burst of splintering wood and a massive excavator burst through, belching smoke and fumes and lighting up the cavern with blazing floodlights. Maul barely escaped being run over by one of its treads which were almost as tall as him, but he could not dodge the enormous scoop that descended on him in a screech of metal and pinned him to the ground between its teeth. 

Ahsoka called Maul’s lightsaber to her hand while backing away, and briefly wondered if the mining machines had become sentient and were about to hunt them all down. Then she saw Anakin and Shmi at the excavator’s controls.

Anakin was sitting in Shmi’s lap, operating the excavator bucket and smiling ecstatically while Shmi steered the machine to a groaning halt. 

Ahsoka stared. She had the best Padawans ever. 

“I have the power of the Force and being a mechanic!” Anakin shouted, sliding down the side of the excavator and kicking Maul’s captive body before running over to Ahsoka. 

“Anakin?” she said, trying to blink away the surprise of watching Darth Maul get run over by her apprentice. 

“Ahsoka! We got lost and we couldn’t find you and then I sensed you so I just followed my senses and we remembered how to see in the dark and then we heard the fight and we were right next to this excavator and it was really easy to fix so I fixed it and then we drove it in here! Was that cool? Did I do good?” 

“First of all, take a breath, kid!” He looked dangerously close to passing out from excitement. “Second of all, yes. That was incredible. Are you okay?” 

Anakin nodded. Shmi hadn’t joined them—she was still at the excavator’s controls, keeping a close eye on Maul. And speaking of Maul…

Ahsoka crouched down next to him and tried not to look too smug as she pulled a pair of Force binders off her belt and snapped them around his ankles, which stuck out from under the massive bucket. 

“You know, if you’d just accepted that you can’t have your own apprentice-slash-pawn, I might actually have let you go. But nope, you’re coming back to Coruscant with me and we can talk about your master in a nice comfy prison cell.” 

Maul snorted. “All this care for the girl, and you don’t even know where she is.” 

“We’ll find her.” 

“No need. She’ll join us in a few moments.” 

“What?” 

As an answer, she heard running feet from somewhere above them, followed by Ventress’s Force-presence bursting into her awareness. She looked up and saw a shadowy figure sprinting down the catwalks. Ventress came to a stop directly overhead before jumping off and landing next to Ahsoka, panting for breath like she’d just run across the planet. 

“Where’s my master?” she gasped without preamble. Then she noticed Maul pinned beneath the excavator, and she pulled out her lightsaber. “Where is he, you bastard?!”   

“Ventress,” Ahsoka said carefully, suddenly very aware that this girl was a lit fuse and Maul was doing his best to fan the flames. “He’s still trying to trick you.”

The sound of Ahsoka’s words seemed to pull Ventress out of her spiral, and she took a deep, shuddering breath, turning to face her. “You can make him talk?” 

“There is no need, child,” Maul rumbled. “I will show you exactly where your Master is. But you will have to free me.” 

“Nope,” Ahsoka said immediately. “You are not in a position to bargain.” 

Maul gave her an infuriatingly smug smile. “That was not a request. To free the captive Jedi requires both my unencumbered use of the Force and the ability to move.” 

Ahsoka stared at him, and then looked at Ventress, who gave a slow nod. 

She sighed heavily, and motioned to Shmi, who moved the excavator bucket off of Maul.

“If you so much as blink without warning, I’m chopping your legs off,” she said, releasing the binders. 

Maul smirked at her and moved slowly to the bonfire, which was nothing more than a pile of embers by now. He held his hand over the center, speaking a few words in a tongue Ahsoka didn’t recognize, and suddenly the flames flared bright green again. An image flickered within, as if a hologram was being projected into the fire: a broad-shouldered man with bushy eyebrows and a goatee. Ahsoka didn’t recognize him, but Ventress sure did. 

“Master,” she half-whispered, half-screamed, her voice tight with horror. She spun on Maul. “If you’re hurting him—”

“He is unharmed.” 

Asajj lunged toward the flames, only to cry in pain and pull back, clutching an arm to her chest. 

“The fire will hurt anyone else who attempts to remove him, though,” Maul added smoothly.

Asajj glared at Maul as Ahsoka moved in front of her, raising her lightsabers once more. A surge of protectiveness pulsed through her. “What do you want?” she growled, speaking for Ventress.

“I only want one thing in return for letting your Master go.” Maul wasn’t talking to her—still to Ventress. “Your apprenticeship to me.” 

Ventress’s gasp was like glass shattering. She looked back and forth between Maul and the fire, uncertainty and fear battling with anger in her eyes. 

“Asajj. Don’t listen to him.” 

The Jedi who Ahsoka assumed was Ky Narec was speaking for the first time. He sounded exhausted and afraid, but clearly resolute. “Don’t throw your life away for a promise he will most likely break.” 

“But I can’t just desert you!” 

“And how do you think I would feel if I was let free while you gave yourself over to this monster?” Narec said gently. 

Ventress made an anguished noise and buried her head in her hands. 

Ahsoka surreptitiously checked to see if she could just pull Narec out of the fire with the Force. Answer: Nope. She didn’t know what would happen if she tried knocking Maul unconscious or extinguishing the fire, and honestly, it felt like too much of a risk to try finding out. And Maul knew she needed him alive, so no threat would make him release Narec. 

“Master Tano?” Ventress said. She sounded so much younger at that moment, a completely different person than the Ventress Ahsoka had known. 

“I feel your frustration, child,” Maul said, his tone dangerously quiet. 

“Shut up or I’ll cut your tongue out,” Ahsoka snapped at him. 

Maul regarded her with a cold glare, and then suddenly his hand flicked. Ahsoka tensed for a wave of Force energy that never came. A green flame erupted directly under her, the same shade as the fire imprisoning Narec. It felt like she’d been plunged into ice-cold water even as the fire engulfed her and lifted her into the air. 

She struggled fruitlessly against an immovable force keeping her suspended, and cursed. Fucker—she should’ve seen this coming! She couldn’t even see out of the flames—the only clue she had to what was going on was the voices. 

“Let her go! This isn’t part of the deal!” 

“Know I am a lost child of Dathomir, too.” 

“What?” 

Ahsoka tried to speak, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. It was as if her vocal cords had been paralyzed. As much as she hated it, the only thing she could do was wait.

“You are tired of defeat. I can sense it. Tired of being powerless in the face of so much injustice. Tired of being unable to change anything. There is a way to get everything you want, and more. That is the promise of the Dark Side. It will give you the power you truly need.”

“Master… What if he’s right?” 

“Asajj…” Ky Narec’s voice floated through to her, and she hoped he would be enough. 

“We can’t do anything! We’ve been stuck on this planet for years fighting the same warlords and the same battles and the same failures and what are we supposed to do if being a Jedi isn’t enough?!” 

“The Dark Side gains its strength from hurt and suffering. What about all the people we’ve helped? The towns and villages that are free because of us? Our protection? The Dark will not care for such things.” 

Ventress’s voice pitched even higher. “I don’t want to just help people! That’s not enough! I want to hurt the bad guys! I’m tired of feeling like we’re always fighting a losing battle!”

You can do that and still be a Jedi, Ahsoka wanted to scream. You can hurt people and never touch the Dark because you take no pleasure in it. Maul wants you to revel in it. Maul wants you to lose sight of others in the name of pursuing your own power for nothing more than the sake of power. If you delight in hurting people, you might do it to someone who doesn’t deserve it. If you delight in hurting people, you might stop caring about who gets hurt. Don’t do it, Ventress. Please. I saw what the Sith did to you. 

But none of it would come out of her mouth no matter how much she snapped and bit at the air, and she hated it. 

She tried to calm herself. It wasn’t easy. And Maul continuing to talk wasn’t helping. 

“The Light is waning, child. Your planet’s plight is just one symptom of this galaxy’s great illness. The Jedi cannot save anyone or anything. But perhaps we can. Together.” 

There was a long silence, and then Ventress spoke, her voice so shaky that she sounded like she might fall apart at any moment. 

“You’ll let them both go unharmed if I go with you?” 

“I swear it on my own head,” Maul said. 

“Asajj.” Narec’s voice had a strange tone; it took Ahsoka a few seconds to recognize it as defeat. “If you have made up your mind to save me, I cannot stop you. But please… don’t convince yourself that this is the right thing just because it’s what you chose to do.” 

Asajj made a frustrated noise, almost a screech of despair. “I’m saving your life! How could that ever be a bad thing?!” 

Ahsoka sensed the way this was going, and decided to try one last thing while Ventress was still here. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the Force, thinking back to that incident on Dathomir with the door to the shrine. Nightsister magic plus Force power… 

Instead of doing anything with the Force, she just gathered it around her, pulling more and more in, until it began to swirl around her like a fire of its own. The Nightsister fire started to waver, and Ahsoka kept pulling more and Force more energy into this small space, even as the Force began to vibrate unsettlingly, making her eyeballs bounce around in her skull. It wasn’t enough—she needed to break these flames. 

It was at this point that she heard Maul saying something, low and angry and urgent, but she tuned it out, squeezing her eyes shut as pressure built all around her. There was a faint glow coming from somewhere, she had no idea where—and then she felt something change in the flames, like they were about to give way, and she took all that energy around her, and finally she pushed. 

Nightsister magic plus Force power… Equaled chaos. 

Her prison exploded around her, and for one moment nothing around Ahsoka seemed to exist. Then all the light and sound and heat rushed back in and she was flying through the air. The cavern was pitch-black now, the fires vaporized, but she sensed the ground rushing up to her and twisted, landing neatly, lightsabers already lit.

“Let her go!” she shouted into the darkness. “Let her GO!”

Then she noticed the glow of Ventress’s lightsaber off to the right, and a moment later the three faces illuminated by it. 

Her heart nearly stopped. Ventress was holding a lightsaber to Shmi and Anakin’s necks. 

“Don’t move,” Ventress hissed, sounding more scared than anyone else in this mine. Her eyes met Ahsoka’s, and she sensed a hundred conflicting emotions.

“I can help you,” she said. “Maul is—”

“Don’t!” Ventress’s voice cracked. 

Ahsoka closed her jaw with a click.

“Tano.” Maul’s voice boomed once again from somewhere behind. “You tried to deny me an apprentice. If you do not tread carefully, I will deny you yours. Turn off your lightsabers.”

Ahsoka couldn’t sense anything in the Force, and one look at the terror in Shmi and Anakin’s faces told her she had no choice. 

She shut them off, and a moment later, Ventress’s saber shut off. 

It wasn’t just the Force; her montrals were blinded too—Maul was doing something else with his magic, but she had no idea what. She waited in the darkness for another instruction, but none came. She heard nothing except the drip-drip of groundwater above.

Several minutes passed in silence without anything occurring, until she couldn’t take it anymore and flicked her sabers back on. 

Light returned to the cavern, and her senses with it. Immediately she found Anakin and Shmi, and relief flooded her as it became clear they were unharmed. They were tied to the same excavator they’d commandeered, but that was all. Dooku was still unconscious. Master Narec was in a heap not far away, pale and bruised, but she could see the unmistakable rise and fall of his chest. 

Maul and Ventress were gone. 

Ventress…  

Ahsoka understood all too well why Ventress had chosen this. It still wasn’t too late to help her. It would never be too late. 

Master Narec stirred and let out a groan. She took a deep, unsteady breath. How could she possibly tell him that his Padawan had chosen the Dark Side? 

It was a pain she wouldn’t wish on anybody.

Chapter Text

Mace Windu looked to his fellow Council members, gauging the current mood in the room, and then met Ahsoka Tano’s gaze once more. 

Tano had been sent out to capture an escaped Sith. She had not succeeded in capturing the Sith. However, she had brought back the only surviving Nightsisters in the galaxy, promised them shelter, and apparently forged a burgeoning alliance with them—if the way their leader talked breathlessly of Tano was anything to go by. And she had found a Jedi who’d been officially declared deceased four years ago. And somehow made the shatterpoints around Dooku appear less foreboding than a week ago. And healed a rift between Jinn and Kenobi which he hadn’t even been aware of. 

A failed mission, turned into a different kind of success. That was a rare thing for the Order in this time. Their successes rang ever hollower, and their failures increasingly felt merciless and compounding. And yet, here was Tano, wrapping up a mission debrief that would’ve sounded impossible if not for Ky Narec, very much alive, standing next to her. 

Before he could ask a question of his own, Ki-Adi Mundi spoke, his tone incredulous. 

“You had the opportunity to kill the Sith and you didn’t take it?” 

Mace took a deep breath, preparing for a storm as Tano gave Mundi a stare that he could only describe as withering. 

“Please use your extra brain for a moment, Master Mundi, and think about why I would be immensely motivated to keep Maul alive at almost any cost.” She continued almost immediately, not waiting for a response even as noises of disbelief spread through the Council. “He knows our mysterious Lord Sidious better than almost anybody in the galaxy. With Gunray dead, he is our only lead that we have on uncovering this Sith Lord. If we can recapture him and place him under proper security, in time, we will be able to extract exactly what we need to know from him. Or… We may even get him to give up that information voluntarily, now that he’s fully aware of just how much his master betrayed him.” 

“You are putting an extraordinary amount of faith in a Sith,” Mundi said. “And one who, quite frankly, is insane.” 

“It’s not faith,” Ahsoka snapped. “It’s being pragmatic. We don’t need to make friends with him. We just need to convince him that we have a common enemy and we can make his revenge on his Master much, much more gratifying than chasing a Jedi for decades.” 

“Whatever you may think, the end result of your refusal is that we have a Sith loose in the galaxy with a new apprentice and designs on going to war with the Jedi. I am not pleased with that.” 

“Master Mundi.” There was a new venom in Ahsoka’s tone which surprised even Mace. “There is a Sith already at war with us. Lord Sidious appears to be operating at the highest levels of the Republic without restraint, which means he already has the power in his hands to destroy us all. If we can do anything that even slightly increases our chances of finding him before our fate is sealed, then I’m going to take it, come hell or high water.”

And suddenly Tano was looking at Mace again, and he had the very bad feeling that she was about to—

“Why is this idiot on the Council?” 

He had anticipated correctly. And he had to do something to defuse the situation before Tano came to blows with a colleague. 

“Knight Tano, I appreciate your diligence and your concern, but—”

She interrupted him. The odd thing was, Mace couldn’t particularly find it in himself to be offended. 

“None of you understand. I’m trying to save all of you. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve seen the Order destroyed because they thought they were infallible.”

“But we have always persisted.” That wasn’t Mundi replying—instead, Oppo Rancisis, the third-oldest Jedi on the Council after Yoda and Yaddle.

Tano gave him a look which was suddenly far less venomous, and more… sad. Mournful. Mace, once again, reached for his shatterpoint sense, and was greeted with the same sight as always. A veritable storm of possibility and potential centered entirely around her. The late afternoon sun slanting through the windows met the shatterpoints at just the right angle to momentarily create the illusion that Tano was erupting into flames. 

“Will you?” Tano said to Rancisis. 

An uncomfortable silence fell. Mace was only too aware that it had been a millennium since the Order had faced the Sith. It was time to stop wondering how much capability the Order had lost in that time, and start getting it back. 

Even after all this, he still marveled at her wellspring of shatterpoints. What did someone have to do, to have so much fate resting on her shoulders? 

Ahsoka Tano acted as if she was the only person in the galaxy who could save it. And, to Mace, it seemed that she wholeheartedly believed that. He wasn’t sure whether that should make him more worried about her or about the Order. 

“So! Have you found a sanctuary for the Nightsisters?” Tano said, as if the last three minutes hadn’t just happened. 

Mace, however, was grateful for the change of subject happening before another argument could break out. 

“Not in the slightest,” he said. “Every suggestion we’ve made to them, they’ve rejected. Even though we’ve tried to find planets that match Dathomir’s climate.” 

Tano tilted her head in thought, and then smiled as if someone had just told her a joke. “Let me guess. You’ve only suggested planets with democratically elected governing bodies.” 

“Yes.” Windu frowned. “That would seem a basic requirement.” 

“Even with the ones that have a female leader, the Nightsisters aren’t going to accept that because they’ll refuse to live on a planet which might someday be led by a man. You need a planet with a matrilineal monarchy.” 

Her smile grew a little bit larger, and as Mace watched, several of the shatterpoints surrounding her shimmered and dissipated into the air, radiating out long wisps of light that faded more slowly—the sign that something had changed. Of course, he had no idea what. 

“I’ve got just the place in mind,” she said. 

Bail Organa was usually one of the first people to enter Alderaan’s senatorial offices each morning. Today was no exception as he walked through the main chamber, nodding to an aide and taking an offered mug of caf. Stepping inside his office, he placed his datapad down on his desk, paused for a moment to glance over the day’s agenda, and then turned around to lock the door behind him. When he turned back, someone was sitting on his desk. 

For one moment, Bail deeply regretted making his office soundproof in the name of privacy, and wished that the panic button was somewhere else besides directly underneath his desk. In the next moment, he realized that this was the peculiar Jedi he’d met at the hovertrain station. Which saved him from having a heart attack, but only barely. 

She wasn’t saying anything, just watching him with a slight tilt to her head. 

“Master Jedi,” he said once he was sure he could talk at a reasonable volume again. “To what do I owe the honor for such an… unexpected visit?” 

She gave him one of those mysterious smiles that so many Jedi seemed to excel at. “I’m here to ask you a favor. But not just from me, on behalf of the Jedi Order.” 

Bail blinked, and reflexively took a seat as his diplomatic instincts took over. “I’d be happy to help the Order in any way I can,” he said. “But first, I really must ask how you got in here and what your name is.” 

Something about the question seemed to amuse her. “Ahsoka Tano,” she said, before nearly jumping off the desk and landing in the seat opposite him. She did not say anything else. 

Well, that was still one more answer than he had hoped to get.

“Would Alderaan be willing to take in a small but extremely unique group of refugees for permanent settlement?” 

Bail leaned forward. This was not the request he’d expected, but it was a relief to be discussing familiar ground. Alderaan’s history of directing refugee assistance and resettlement was a millennia-long tradition. He already anticipated his answer would be yes, but even so, the proper channels had to be followed.

“What is the nature of these refugees?”

A small number usually meant political refugees. Who might need additional protection and certain diplomatic considerations—

“Are you familiar with the Nightsisters of Dathomir?” 

—Or it could be a near-mythical people whom Bail had never seen in person. 

His job had taught him how to prepare for the unexpected. Now if only it could prepare him for Ahsoka Tano. 

“Alderaan, huh?” Luce picked at the laces on her boot, and shrugged. “Never heard of it.” 

The Nightsisters had made a temporary home on the Temple’s roof, setting up their tents around the Tree of Life to the consternation of quite a few Jedi. It was in the shade of this tree that Ahsoka and Luce sat, talking about the future of the Nightsisters and watching the younger children chasing each other in the early morning sun. 

“It’s very different from Dathomir,” Ahsoka said. Anakin was here too, playing with the Nightsisters his age. He was throwing a ball back and forth with them. It would’ve been cute, if not for the fact that he was using Force powers and the kid Nightsisters were using magick, which were combining in a way to make the ball zigzag and weave and vibrate in a way which didn’t look entirely safe. 

Luce shrugged. “Anything’s better than this.” She looked around, curling her lip. “There isn’t a single bit of real nature anywhere on this planet. How do you Jedi live like this?” 

Ahsoka let herself lean back, the twisted bark of the ancient tree pressing into her back with a comforting hardness. “I like it.” And she did. Being in the Jedi Temple again after so long was like bathing ins life itself. “I like how vibrant Coruscant feels in the Force, how full of people it is. How many different souls you can sense at any given moment. It’s a reminder of everything worth fighting for in the galaxy. Everything worth protecting.” 

Luce leaned back against the tree and stared up into its branches, and didn’t reply, 

“That includes you and your people, you know,” Ahsoka said. 

Luce only grunted, but Ahsoka felt the shimmer of appreciation radiating off her in the Force. 

“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Luce said. “You’d be a great leader. And we’re way more fun than the Jedi.”

Ahsoka took a moment to digest the fact that she was being offered leadership of the Nightsisters, and then smiled and shook her head. “Unless you and the rest of the sisters want to be running around the galaxy with me for the next few years, I don’t think you’d like it.”

Luce huffed. “Okay. But if you change your mind, it’s a standing offer.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Ahsoka would not keep it in mind. Two apprentices was enough. For now, at least. 

“I still can’t believe you’re a Jedi,” Luce muttered. “I feel like everyone in this place is looking at us like we’re diseased. Except you… And him, I guess.” She pointed to the edge of the camp, and Ahsoka followed the path of her finger to find Ky Narec, who was quietly watching the Nightsister activity. The grief could not have been more plain in his face. 

“He’s just sad,” Luce said. “I don’t know what his deal is, but he’s sad for us. Better than nothing.” 

Ahsoka rose to her feet. “I need to talk to him, actually.” 

She could feel pulses of mourning in the Force, coming off him in waves. He noticed her approaching, but kept his attention on the Nightsisters. Ahsoka came to a stop next to him and waited. 

Eventually, he broke the silence. His voice was thick with exhaustion. “Well?” 

“What?” 

“You’re here to tell me that you’re sorry about my apprentice. So get it over with, please.” 

“I’m going to get her back.” 

The gloom over Narec broke, replaced by a frank surprise, and he turned to look fully at her. “How?” 

“No idea. Yet. But I know Asajj is a good person. I know she’s trying. I know she thought this was the right thing to do. Sure, she’s running around the galaxy with a physical incarnation of violence, but… I believe things are going to work out for her in the end.” Even in the original timeline, Ventress had turned out okay in the end! Mostly.

She let her gaze drift over the camp again as she waited for a response. Apparently Anakin and the Nightsisters had tired themselves out, because they’d flopped down in the shade of the Tree of Life to converse animatedly. She watched that interaction happening, and it was impossible to draw any other conclusion except that Anakin was making friends with them. Once again, something that could shatter an entire timeline’s worth of future happenings. It still surprised her, how quickly she’d become used to the rapid disappearance of the future that was familiar to her. She’d been terrified of changing anything in those first few days, but now… trying to get Anakin to be an apprentice of Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon felt like a distant dream already. 

Honestly, she liked that. It wasn’t like her future had anything worth keeping. Every little change she made at least ensured she wouldn’t be living the same nightmare again. 

“Asajj had no memory of her home planet,” Narec said at last, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Once, I promised her that when we finally left Rattatak, the first thing we would do was travel to Dathomir so she could be reunited with her people. But now… how can I keep that promise when this is all that remains?”

“I’ve got an idea, actually.” 

Going by the look of bare shock, Narec had clearly not been expecting an actual answer. 

“The Nightsisters are going to need protection. Permanent protection. Why not be one of the Jedi helping to protect them? I think that would mean the world to Asajj. And you can learn more about them, for when she comes home.” 

Narec opened his mouth, and no sound came out. He stayed that way for several seconds, and then his mouth closed with an audible click. 

“I think that’s going to mean more to her than any amount of searching for her could, because she’s probably terrified of facing you right now and would just run away if you came near.” 

Narec took a deep, shaky breath, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “You are wise beyond your years, Knight Tano.” 

“You have no idea.” 

He barked a laugh. “Of course. I forgot. The Jedi from the distant past. Well—I cannot claim that twelve years is anything similar to three millennia. But if you ever need a kindred spirit… I know what it feels like to discover that the galaxy has changed immensely in one’s absence.” 

Ahsoka cocked her head. She hadn’t thought of it that way, but it made a lot of sense. When Narec had become stranded, he would’ve thought the Sith were extinct, practically mythology… until a living, breathing one showed up on his planet. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, for you, this is a significantly more upbeat reintroduction than it is for me.” 

“Not really.” Ahsoka shook her head. “Between my Sith and your Sith? I’ll take the enemy I know over one I don’t know, a thousand times out of a thousand.” 

Narec winced, but said nothing. 

“Here, I’ll introduce you to their leader. It’ll be good for her to meet a Jedi she can trust.” 

“Besides you,” Narec said. 

“Besides me.” Force of habit could be a real bastard sometimes. She still wasn’t fully used to being a Jedi again. 

As she worked her way between tents, back to the tree where Luce was still sitting but with a toddler in her lap, Ahsoka felt two familiar Force-presences approaching from the opposite direction. She arrived at the tree at the same time Yoda and Plo did.

“Preparing your transport, we are,” Yoda said. “Begin gathering your things and your sisters, you should.” 

Luce nodded. She yelled something in an unfamiliar language to another Nightsister, but made no move to get up. Instead, she began murmuring to the toddler—who was clearly trying to grab at the knives hanging off Luce’s belt. 

“No, Ilyana—” 

Any thought Ahsoka had that Luce could be trusted with children evaporated as Luce guided Ilyana to a different knife and closed her fingers firmly around the hilt. 

“Not that one. Too heavy. This is better for someone your size.” 

Ilyana gave it a few way-too-energetic waves, and then dropped it on the ground and clambered out of Luce’s lap. Luce smiled in her direction as she ran off before looking up to see Ahsoka, Yoda, Plo, and Narec all staring at her. 

“What?” she said. “I was handling knives at her age.” 

“Nightsisters,” Ahsoka muttered. 

“Jedi,” Luce shot back in a considerably louder tone. 

Yoda was cackling quietly. “Allied with you sooner, we should have.” 

“Look, is there anything else you were going to tell me? Because we already knew about the ship, we’ll be packing up soon, and if you really are the Grand Lord High Master Leader of the Jedi or whatever, you didn’t come up here just to tell us that.” 

Plo cut in, probably because he didn’t trust Yoda to carry on the conversation right now. “We wanted to ask, are there any others who are considering joining the Jedi?” 

Luce snorted. “Well, he does.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, and Ahsoka turned to see Feral, the Nightbrother who was the younger brother of Darth Maul and Savage Opress and she was not going to get over that fact for a while, standing not too far from them, staring at them almost pleadingly. 

“Okay,” Ahsoka said before anyone else could object. 

Feral was clearly listening in, because as soon as Ahsoka spoke he almost sprinted over to them. He looked around at the Jedi, his eyes wide and unsure. 

Ahsoka gave Yoda a meaningful look. He was the Grandmaster; he should be doing this, not her. Thankfully, he must’ve understood what she meant, because he cleared his throat and stepped forward, examining Feral. 

“Want to be a Jedi, you do?” 

Feral was standing as straight and stiff as seemed possible for a Zabrak. “Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“I want to save my brother.” 

“Hmmm.” Ahsoka knew Yoda was just squinting in thought, but wow, he really should have tried to make it look less like he was narrowing his eyes in suspicion. 

“Need saving, your brother does?” 

“No one in the galaxy cares about him besides me.” Feral clenched his fists. “I’ve always been the runt. I want to be strong. Then maybe I can save him.” 

“Strong? Ha!” Yoda reached out, poking Feral in the knee with his stick. “Size matters not, young one. Grand Master of the Order I am, while being much smaller than you.” 

Feral stared at him dubiously. “You? Even I could pick you up!” 

Oh, no. Ahsoka discreetly dropped her face into her hand. This was not going to end well for the kid. 

“Oh?” Yoda’s voice was dangerously neutral. “Try, then.” 

Feral put on his sternest face, which… honestly wasn’t very stern. And then did nothing. Followed by continuing to do nothing. 

“Well?” 

He now looked thoroughly alarmed. “I… can’t move.”  

“Oh? Too afraid to pick up the little old Jedi, are you?” There was no disguising the glee in Yoda’s voice anymore. 

“How are you doing that?” 

“Many ways to end a conflict, there are. Rarely is raw strength the answer.” Ahsoka felt the Force-power surrounding Feral dissolve. 

Yeah, that went about how she’d expected. 

“Maybe that’s why I never passed any of the Nightbrother trials. They wanted me to be strong in a way that I… just can’t be.” Feral’s shoulders slumped. “I’m a terrible Nightbrother.”

“Yes, but a good Jedi you may still be.” 

It took Ahsoka a moment to realize Yoda was saying yes. She turned to him as Feral started hopping around in joy, and decided to push this timeline even further in the direction of the unknown. 

“That’s four Padawans defying the age rule. Anakin, Shmi, Yenna, Feral. So, Master, I think you should stop calling them exceptions and start calling them what they really are: the end of a rule which was stupid from the moment it was made.” 

“Hm.” Aside from that noncommittal noise, Yoda said nothing. He placed both of his hands atop his stick and looked downward, deep in thought. 

Plo looked as if every bit of his knowledge about Ahsoka’s future was weighing heavily on him at that moment. Narec looked more surprised than he had at any point since rejoining the greater galaxy, which was quite funny to Ahsoka. Sure, the Sith had returned, but clearly the more out-of-place thing here was somebody being rude to Master Yoda. 

“Hmmmm. Yes.” 

Ahsoka stared. Was he actually—

Yoda looked up at Ahsoka again, the dappled sunlight which filtered through the tree branches dancing across his aged skin. “Shown us a new way forward, you have. Repealed, the age rule is.”

His tone was utterly serious, and the Force thrummed around him to confirm it. 

Oh, Force. The Padawan who had been kicked out, who’d rejected a chance to come back, who had been one of the only survivors… was shaking the Order to its core. 

Different was good, she reminded herself. Different meant avoiding the mistakes of before. But this was an entirely new kind of different—a thousand-year-old rule, crumbling into nothing in a matter of moments. 

Suddenly, the Force around them resonated with a clear, high tone, like someone had plucked the largest harp in the universe. It made the bones deep in Ahsoka’s body vibrate in a strangely pleasing way, and she could feel it spreading through the roof beneath them, down into the Temple and then undoubtedly to the rest of Coruscant. Everyone around them—Nightsister or Jedi—was stopping what they were doing and looking around in amazement.

“What was that?” Ahsoka said.

“That was the Force,” Plo murmured, and Ahsoka could hear just a little bit of her Plo’s affection and familiarity in his tone. “Telling us we have made a very, very good choice.” 

A good choice, which no Jedi on the planet could’ve missed.

Yoda was smiling widely now as he turned back to Feral. “Lead by example, I will. May I have the honor of being your teacher?” 

Feral’s mouth fell open. “I… Would you? Truly?”

“Be careful not to become fixated on saving just one person, you must. But an instinct to save someone is an instinct to save someone. A good instinct for a Jedi, it is.” Yoda stepped forward, placing a clawed hand on Feral’s side. “Convene the Council, I must. Come with me, my Padawan.” 

Ahsoka watched Yoda lead Feral away, and slowly shook her head in disbelief. Optimism was something she wouldn’t allow herself to feel until she was standing over Sidious’s lifeless body, but right now she felt a little less terrified of everything. 

A tap at her elbow pulled her away from contemplation, and she turned to see Luce standing next to her. 

The girl fixed a pleading look on Ahsoka which seemed vastly out of place compared to her normally dour expressions. “Even if you don’t want to be our leader, I want to teach you our ways. You’re worthy of knowing our magic. Do that, at least.”

Ahsoka turned the offer over in her head. It was tempting. On the one hand, it could give her an advantage. On the other hand… Damn it, she couldn’t think of any downsides. So she nodded. 

“That offer, I’ll take. On one condition.” Ahsoka grabbed Ky Narec’s shoulder and swiveled him to face the Nightsister. “Make friends with this guy.” 

Luce raised an eyebrow, looking the startled Narec up and down before shrugging. “It’s a deal. See you on Alderaan sometime.”

“Wonderful.” She gave Luce a warm, genuine smile. Luce wouldn’t want to hear her say this out loud, but Ahsoka was proud of her. She was going through exactly what Ahsoka had gone through… and was probably handling it better as a whole than she had. 

And that’s likely only possible because of the difference I’m making. 

She turned away before she could start crying, and found herself looking at Plo. Who was standing farther away than before, watching her. When their eyes met, he nodded towards her, an invitation to join him. 

The most direct path to Plo meant passing within earshot of Anakin, who was still deep in conversation with some Nightsister girls his age. 

“You can raise people from the dead?” Anakin was saying. 

One of the girls, with her head shaved except for a skull shape made from a buzzcut, gave him a gap-toothed grin in response. 

“Yeah! But they’re not really back, they’re just corpses being puppeted by our magic.” 

“Oh,” Anakin said, sounding thoroughly disappointed, while Ahsoka kept walking and tried to put a normal expression on her face for talking to Plo, which was quite hard to do on account of what she’d just heard.

“Master,” she said, biting down on her tongue before she added “Plo,” to the end of that, reminding herself they weren’t close enough yet to call him that. 

Plo gazed at her for a long moment, and then spoke quietly.

“Did Anakin become a Sith in your time?” 

Ahsoka choked on thin air, tried to take a breath to compensate, and ended up coughing so hard she thought she was about to lose a lung. 

“What?!” she gasped as soon she was capable of forming words again.

Plo’s eyes flicked to something behind Ahsoka, and she knew he was looking at Anakin. “There was the way you so fiercely insisted on him being trained… Which by itself was not enough to make me wonder such a thing, but then you warned the Council that Sidious would seek him out if we didn’t take him in. I wondered if you were speaking from concrete knowledge. And In conjunction with everything I know about the future… In your time, without you there to convince us, it seems quite likely that we would’ve turned him away, and made it all too easy for the Sith Lord.”

Ahsoka felt like she was about to throw up. When he put it like that—it hurt to think about, but she could see exactly how he would think such a thing. But it was wrong. It was so wrong. It wasn’t Anakin—

“He is quite powerful,” Plo Koon said. “If he was part of the Order’s downfall—”

“No,” Ahsoka said. “No. That’s not it. At all.” She’d never been so eager to tell Plo he was wrong. Her heart clenched with a deep-seated terror. Would Plo distrust Anakin now? Would he try to get him kicked out? Would he believe her about anything? Was he believing her right now? “Not even close. He was a Jedi. It’s not—He’s not—He wasn’t—I’m sorry. I should’ve—” 

“‘Soka.” 

Plo laid a hand on her shoulder, and the comforting touch was exactly what Ahsoka needed to realize she was babbling and helping absolutely no one right now. So she went quiet and looked at Plo, hating how scared she felt. 

“I believe you.” 

She almost melted with relief. 

‘Soka. He called me ‘Soka. Just like before.

“But then why, may I ask? Why did you fight so staunchly for his acceptance?” 

Ahsoka weighed her options, and decided there was no harm in sharing this piece of information. Especially because it’d clear any lingering doubt Plo might have about whether Anakin had ever been a Sith or not. 

“I think you should try asking a different question,” Ahsoka said. 

“And what would that be?” 

She turned so she was standing shoulder-to-shoulder to Plo, nudged him gently with her elbow, and looked straight ahead to Anakin, who had now fallen asleep under the Tree of Life with his new Nightsister friends. 

“Ever wondered who my master was?” 

The question caught him off-guard. “I thought it was… Me…” He trailed off, following the path of Ahsoka’s gaze to the sleeping form of Anakin. He paused, then swiveled his neck rapidly back and forth between the master and the apprentice. Finally, he just stared at nothing for several long moments. 

And then he began to laugh. 

His laugh was deep, rumbling, almost beyond the range of her hearing but most definitely felt. The sound was strange to Ahsoka; she hadn’t heard Plo laugh in so long it was like hearing it for the first time all over again. But it was a wonderful sound, a sound that reminded her this was home, and she committed it to memory, promising herself there would be no cause to forget it ever again. 

“Once the learner, now the master,” she said, misquoting an old Jedi adage about apprenticeship, finally allowing herself to joke about this. “Literally. More literally than anyone in the history of the Order.” 

Although Plo had stopped laughing and was catching his breath, her joke was not lost on him. He gave Ahsoka a mirthful smile, and went back to silently contemplating Anakin. He was probably doing the math in his head and realizing how close Kid Anakin and Baby Ahsoka were in age. 

“I got assigned to him right after he was Knighted,” Ahsoka said. “Neither of us asked for it, but we made it work.”

“Was he a good Jedi?”

“One of the best. I wouldn’t have survived without him.” 

She didn’t realize what she’d said wrong until Plo’s good humor disappeared from the Force.

“Survived what?” he asked, his tone suddenly careful. 

What a deceptively simple question. Ahsoka let her gaze linger on the Tree of Life. Its leaves fluttered gently in the breeze. Those leaves were the same wan yellow they’d always been, and for the first time, she wondered if they were supposed to be that way. Maybe they were supposed to be a different color, and all the poison and rot in the galaxy was draining the color out of them. 

She gave Plo the only answer she could.

“Everything.” 

Plo Koon’s heart broke every time he looked at Ahsoka Tano. 

What exactly had forged her spirit into something hard and glittering like the oldest kyber crystals? Her presence in the Force burned like a supernova—hot, spectral, endlessly luminous, under immense pressure—where had that stress come from? What had forced the evolution from the energetic and happy youngling he’d brought to the Temple into the exhausted and paranoid warrior who never took off her armor? Sometimes, he could barely believe they were the same person.

However, there were also times when he didn’t understand how no one else in the Temple saw what he’d known since the moment she’d first seen him. 

He had suspected nothing but a peculiar coincidence of names until that moment in the Council chamber, when Ahsoka’s eyes briefly met his, and he felt a hundred different emotions thunder through a connection between them. A connection which felt decades-old and just barely formed at the same time. 

That wasn’t the only moment when the likeness between the two Tanos jumped out at him in stark relief. She was incomprehensibly adept at keeping her emotions shielded, but on the rare occasions when fear made its way onto her face, she looked so much younger and so much more like the child on Shili who he’d held a welcoming hand out to. And it seemed to be only around him that Ahsoka was willing to—or able to—show any fear. As if he was the only person for whom she could let her guard down the slightest bit. 

The likeness was also in the smile she wore when she was about to do something bold and reckless which would somehow turn out better than it had any right to. It was the same kind of smile—fangs slipping out from behind her lips just a tad—the younger Ahsoka had when she was sneaking into a place she was most definitely not supposed to be.

The older Ahsoka wore something akin to that smile now, as she sparred with Master Dooku while Plo watched from across the training salle. Along with a great number of other Jedi. 

Master Dooku choosing to spar publicly was greatly surprising news in itself. He had not done such a thing in years. But Plo wasn’t convinced that any of the onlookers were here to see Dooku. That was because everyone’s attention seemed focused almost entirely on Ahsoka. Their curiosity was understandable. A Jedi pulled from the time of the Old Republic, hailing from a very different kind of Jedi Order. He would’ve been here to watch even if he’d known nothing of the truth.

He considered that perhaps he was even more curious about this spar than any other Jedi present. Because he knew exactly how relevant Ahsoka’s skill was to the state of the Order.

He was looking for what had allowed her to survive when he and so many other Jedi did not. Whatever the difference between her and the rest of the Order was, it could be the key to their survival. 

He watched her fighting style carefully, taking note of how she never stopped moving. It was almost as if she needed to be in multiple places at once. He wondered if she tired quickly, or… Had she spent so long running from something, that her stamina exceeded anyone in the Order? 

He watched her pressing Dooku, outlasting him—the greatest duelist alive—and realized the second possibility was much more likely. 

Ahsoka whipped past Dooku, catching him ever so slightly off-balance in the Force, but in such a way that her back was to him, and then she flipped her lightsabers in a blindingly fast move, and suddenly Dooku was trapped between her sabers. 

“Yield.” Her tone was… far more authoritative than what was normally taken for a Jedi speaking to a master like Dooku. But not unexpected for Ahsoka. Plo had noticed, she always looked at Dooku a little more sharply than the rest of the Jedi. As if she was waiting for him to do something unfortunate. As if he had done something in her time. 

Plo knew how close Dooku was to leaving the Order. How dissatisfied the aged master had become with the state of affairs and the actions of the Jedi. How he questioned if the Jedi were going far enough. 

It seemed quite likely to him Ahsoka was preventing a future Sith from taking shape, and now he knew it wasn’t Anakin. 

He watched Dooku yield and bow to Ahsoka before stepping aside, and wondered what she’d seen him do. A smattering of applause spread through the salle. Ahsoka blinked slowly at the audience, as if surprised by the number of people, and then smiled that same confident smile. She spread her arms. 

“Would anyone else like to spar?” 

Shock rippled through the Force at the open invitation, and Plo found himself genuinely considering it. What would—

“I will.” 

It was Ki-Adi Mundi who stepped forward first, the crowd parting for a member of the Council. 

Plo could no longer sense any ire in Mundi, which was a relief after how that had flared in the Council chamber during his… exchange of opinions with Ahsoka. And his expression was mostly genial as he waited for her to accept or decline. Even so… Plo had a bad feeling about this. 

Ahsoka nodded. “Go for it.” 

“No one will dispute your martial prowess,” Mundi said. “But that is only one aspect of being a Jedi. I am curious about your skill in other areas.” 

“All right. What are you looking for?” 

She didn’t seem particularly put out by the statement, which somehow only increased Plo’s concern. 

“What can you do without a lightsaber in your hand?” 

Ahsoka’s face was unreadable, but in her presence Plo could feel the faintest tinge of… glee?

“Sure. Shmi, can you watch these for me? Thanks.” She handed the hilts off to the older of her Padawans, and then turned back to Mundi, cracking her neck joints and shaking out her arms. 

“All right, Master Mundi. Normal sparring rules?” 

Mundi looked quite doubtful about this arrangement, but he nodded and took up his opening stance all the same. However, Plo noted that he did not bow to Ahsoka before doing so. He took a deep breath to center himself, and in that moment, Ahsoka—

It was difficult for Plo to put words to what Ahsoka was doing. One moment, she was standing there, a hand on her hip, watching Mundi, and then in the next moment she was… 

She’s somewhere else, the Force whispered insistently to him.

But he hadn’t seen her move. She was still standing right where he’d seen her. 

Is she? the Force murmured. Or are your eyes playing tricks on you? 

His gaze slipped off Ahsoka like skidding off ice, and every time he refocused his attention on her, she seemed a little blurrier, a little harder to make out, as if this really was an illusion and she was hiding somewhere else. 

He couldn’t help but reach into the Force to sharpen his senses, to understand where she actually was. He closed his eyes to rule out a sensation much more fickle than what the Force could tell him. Yet, as soon as he did so, the faint trace of her in the Force vanished completely. 

He opened his eyes, and found Ki-Adi Mundi alone on the training floor, and a large number of Jedi looking around in bewilderment. 

“Do you yield?” 

The sound of Ahsoka’s voice was so thoroughly unexpected that Plo looked in three different directions before he realized she was in plain sight, wrapping an elbow around Mundi’s neck and pinning his lightsaber arm to his side.

A shocked silence reigned, broken only by Anakin Skywalker cheering wildly, and Shmi Skywalker clapping slowly but emphatically. 

“What?” Mundi said, and there was no frustration or combativeness in his voice, just genuine amazement. “Where did you go?” 

“I’ve been right here the entire time. Do you yield?” 

Plo didn’t doubt what she was saying for a moment. He was thoroughly impressed, and full of apprehension. One question loomed in his mind.

It was as if she’d erased herself. What had Ahsoka Tano lived through, to have to learn to hide herself like that?

After that, the spars continued, and no one asked Ahsoka Tano to fight without her lightsabers. 

She defeated almost everyone who stepped onto the training floor, but it was the ones she lost to which were maybe the most surprising to onlookers. After all, how could Ahsoka outclass multiple members of the Council, but then falter against two newly-made Knights? But Plo saw deeper. 

Against Luminara Unduli, Ahsoka seemed unable to fully defend against her sweeping strikes, and only Plo saw the tiny glint of sorrow in her eyes, and the invisible weight of something on her shoulders. When Unduli put her blade to Ahsoka’s neck and asked her to yield, Ahsoka seemed only too happy to oblige. 

Against Obi-Wan Kenobi, it appeared that he was doing an excellent job keeping her off-balance, but Plo saw something else: Ahsoka anticipating tendencies which simply weren’t there, swinging for weak spots which did not exist. What ended the duel was when she bit hard on a misguided attack, and before she could recover her balance she was sent to the ground by way of Kenobi’s elbow. 

Ahsoka had known these people—that much was clear. It was her knowledge of them which was her weakness. It made Plo wonder what would happen if she sparred with him.

“May I have the honor of the next spar? It’s not often I get to face off against someone with the same number of lightsabers as me! Even if I do still have an advantage in blades.” 

As a jovial voice pulled Plo out of his musings once again, he turned to see a tall Besalisk, whose name he couldn’t recall, ambling through the crowd towards Ahsoka. She turned to meet him, and then something changed in her demeanor. 

She wore the same easy expression of competitive curiosity as she looked the new challenger up and down, but… her face suddenly seemed to be disconnected from the rest of her body. The perfectly casual way she twirled her sabers and the slight tension that rippled through her shoulders felt anything but casual to Plo. It was hard for him to identify, and it was so faint he was sure he was the only one who could notice it. But it unsettled him. 

And then Ahsoka spoke, and he most definitely knew something was wrong. 

“And who is it that I will be facing next?” she asked. Her voice was just the same as it’d been for every other opponent—even Mundi. But there was something unnervingly flat in her undertones which made him wonder just what she was holding back, what eruption of emotion and instinct she was locking up deep inside. 

“Pong Krell, Jedi Knight,” the Besalisk replied, his enthusiastic smile growing wider as he realized she was accepting the offer.

Once reminded of the name, the rest of Plo’s knowledge about Krell came to him again. A seasoned Knight, with a booming laugh that could fill an entire room. Quite popular with Younglings, from what he understood—he could think of several initiates who spoke quite highly of him and who planned to ask him to be their master when the time came. 

He could not think of any reason why Ahsoka would react to him as if he was a threat of the highest order, and so he resigned himself to looking for yet another hint of the future. 

Ahsoka nodded. “Two double-bladed lightsabers?” she said, sizing him up. “Impressive. I wonder…” 

“Hm?” 

She replied so quickly, it was as if she’d been waiting for him to take a bait. 

“How do you feel about a test?” 

A murmur spread through the room.

“A test?” Krell shifted his weight, unsure, but nodded after a few moments. 

“Right.” Ahsoka turned to one of the equipment lockers and began rummaging through it, looking for something. “You must be one of the best in the Order at deflecting blaster bolts,” she said without looking at him. Her hand went to her leg for a moment, as if she was looking for something on her person. 

“One of the better ones, for sure! But having more arms also makes me a bigger target.” Krell punctuated his words with a chuckle. 

“Mmm.” Ahsoka stood up and waved a hand at the locker. Out of it floated at least a dozen blaster training modules—the orbs used to teach Younglings how to deflect blaster fire. 

“Let’s see exactly how good.” 

Krell glanced around at the modules as they moved into a circle around him, and ignited his lightsabers. He deflected the first few shots easily, but then the modules began to rotate slowly, their rate of fire increasing. Ahsoka watched with her arms crossed. 

And then the modules began to move up and down, bobbing and weaving wildly without letting up their fire. Krell briefly raised his brow, but he was still blocking everything, even if his movements were growing more ragged and the near misses were nearer. And Ahsoka was still cranking up the difficulty—he could hear the shots coming faster and faster, until—it was inevitable by now—one slipped through Krell’s defenses and caught him in the back. 

Of course, this was only a training module, so the bolt would do nothing except register as a small shock, only enough to let Krell know he’d been hit. He grunted in surprise, but shook it off. 

At that moment, Ahsoka ignited her lightsabers and leapt forward. Krell barely had enough time to bring his guard around, and as their blades clashed, a volley of shots thudded into Krell’s back, sides, and head. 

Ahsoka flipped away and snapped, “Keep blocking!” as Krell staggered backwards, the modules following him. “Do you think they’re going to stop shooting at you just because I’m here?!” 

She launched herself at Krell again without waiting for a response. A tide of concern rose rapidly in the room as every Jedi, including Plo, realized they had no idea when Ahsoka would stop. 

“You’re dead,” Ahsoka said as a laser caught Krell in the side. “You’re dead,” she repeated, intentionally turning a strike which would’ve taken his head off into a swipe that passed inches from his unguarded neck. “You’re dead,” she said again. And again. Not a single one of the modules’ shots hit her. 

Finally, Krell, looking thoroughly worn, unleashed a wave of Force energy which sent the training modules flying into the walls and ground in a shower of sparks. Ahsoka didn’t so much as flinch in the face of it.

“This is impossible,” he said, breathing slowly but heavily. All of the good cheer was gone from his voice. 

“Then why haven’t I been hit once?” she said. 

Krell hesitated, but only for a moment. “You’re the one controlling them.” 

“Nope. As soon as I went at you, they were autonomous.” 

Krell snorted in disbelief.

“Search your feelings. You know it to be true.” 

Plo already knew she was telling the truth. And a few moments, Krell seemed to arrive at the same conclusion. He slumped, extinguishing his lightsabers. “That you did. I yield.” 

“Yield?” Ahsoka let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Surely you remember this isn’t a spar, Knight Krell.” She flicked her hand at another equipment locker. The door smacked open with a resounding bang, and this time, a far larger number of training modules than before flew out, all of them aimed at Krell. “It’s over when I say it’s over.” 

Before Krell could object or even just step away, the modules opened fire, too far out of reach for him to cut them down with his lightsabers.

Ahsoka, Plo whispered into the Force. What are you doing? 

She heard him. He knew, because he saw one of her lekku twitch, but that was the only sign of recognition she offered. He sensed no malice or hatred in her—just a grim sort of determination.

She was turning up the power of the shots. They were lightly singing Krell’s robes, and any impact on bare skin drew a faint noise of pain from him. 

“I’ve failed!” Krell roared, the volume of his voice surprising everyone except Ahsoka.  “Why continue?” 

“No, you haven’t. Not yet.” 

There was something in the way Ahsoka said that which sent a chill down Plo’s spine. She was waiting for something. What was she waiting for?  

Then Ahsoka did look at Plo. And she shook her head once, very clearly. Don’t, she was asking. 

Before he could decipher that, she reached into one of her boots, drew a blaster pistol, and fired at Krell.

There was a collective gasp, because there was no mistaking the brightness of this blaster bolt. That was a pistol at full power. Lethal power. 

Krell deflected it into the ground. The barrage stopped entirely. He, along with everyone else in the room, stared at Ahsoka with wide eyes.

“I am turning the training modules up to full power,” Ahsoka said, perfectly calm. “Any hit will momentarily paralyze you. You have civilians around you whom you cannot deflect the shot toward.” She raised her pistol again. “And I will not stop shooting unless you make me.”

It was at this point that several Jedi reached for their lightsabers, but before anyone could make a move, Ahsoka pulled the trigger. 

Krell deflected the first several shots straight into the ground, but as the training modules ramped up their fire again, his swings rapidly became desperate. Fear burst forth from him in the Force as the situation became clear. 

Krell would need the Force to take down the droids firing at him. But such a concentrated wave would require enough focus that it was a real danger Ahsoka would get a shot past his defenses. And no one wanted to intervene right now for fear of causing someone a serious injury. 

“I’m still shooting,” Ahsoka snarled. She was walking forwards slowly, closing the distance. “What are you going to do?” 

But the droids’ barrage was still intensifying, and at a certain point, likely much sooner than before, a shot would paralyze Krell. It was anybody’s guess what Ahsoka would do after that.

“What are you going to do?” Ahsoka’s voice was thunder rolling across a distant horizon. 

Plo moved forward, deliberately not drawing his lightsaber. No matter what Ahsoka was thinking, this could not go on. But just as he was entering her field of vision, Krell made his move. 

With a yell, he sent out another wave of potent Force energy, this one even stronger than before, sweeping up all the training modules in a rush and sending them flying—

But then, there was one final shot from a falling droid as it shut off, the bright blue bolt streaking in from an impossible angle and slamming into Krell’s unprotected back. 

Krell gasped, and fell forwards onto his knees, his lightsabers clattering out of his hand and his body sagging as his legs went limp, and then Ahsoka was saying—

“I’m not stopping.” 

She’d lowered her blaster, but only slightly. So that it was still aimed at Krell’s chest. She was less than a meter away from him. Plo, too far away to do anything, saw the muscle flexing on her hand. The trigger finger starting to squeeze. The—

The Force snapped. 

Plo reeled as a wave of malevolence slammed into him, a wave of make her hurt and wipe her from this galaxy and crush her into dust and—

A terrible scream pierced the air, and in the same instant Krell sprang to his feet and seized Ahsoka by the neck, lifting her into the air like she weighed nothing. With two free arms, he wrenched the blaster from Ahsoka’s hand and flung it aside, and shook her entire body like a discarded robe. 

“You are a creature of SUFFERING!” he roared, his hands visibly straining as he gripped her neck, squeezing tighter and tighter. “Your mere presence besmirches this Temple!” 

There was a savage gleam in his eyes as he tried to crush Ahsoka’s neck with his bare hands. Great waves of darkness and rage poured off him like a waterfall, and his usual broad smile had warped into a cartoonish rictus. He was completely oblivious to his horrified audience as he reveled in the Dark Side.  

“I will make your existence agony,” he growled. “You will welcome death when—”

“KNIGHT KRELL.” 

The voice which now boomed through the salle came from everywhere at once, and yet everyone knew exactly where to look as Yoda strode through the crowd. His usual hobble was completely absent, and the only function of his stick seemed to be to smack on the floor like an explosion with every step. 

The darkness positively engulfing Krell dissolved, and suddenly he was just a scared man holding Ahsoka Tano in the air, recognition and disbelief and dread and regret flooding him.

That was when Plo realized Ahsoka was pressing her blaster to Krell’s side even as he gripped her. She’d somehow recalled it to her hand in the chaos… with no apparent concern for anything else happening. 

“Now you’ve failed,” she said quietly.

Krell dropped her unceremoniously and staggered back before falling to his knees once more. He stared at his own hands in unvarnished terror, silently mouthing the words he’d just said moments ago as if he couldn’t believe his mouth had formed them. The assembled Jedi now stared at Krell like they’d been staring at Ahsoka just a few moments ago. 

Ahsoka brushed herself off, and rubbed her neck in an almost dismissive manner before she fixed a hard look on Krell. There was no satisfaction in her expression. Just an immense exhaustion. 

The sound of another lightsaber igniting marked the arrival of Mace Windu as he came between Ahsoka and Krell, leveling his lightsaber at her.  

“Tano. Stand down,” he said flatly. “Even for you, that was too far.” 

Ahsoka stared at Windu for an excruciatingly long second, and then turned around and fired her blaster at herself. 

Plo could not stop himself from crying out, a hand going forward as if he could somehow rewind time—

Ahsoka was still standing. She was still moving. Still breathing. Still completely unharmed without so much as a scratch on her clothes. 

Plo stared. Windu stared. Yoda stared. Krell stared. Every Jedi in the room stared. They had all seen the bright blaster bolt hit Ahsoka in the chest, and nothing had happened. 

“What?” Windu said finally. 

“It’s harmless.” Ahsoka spun the blaster around and held it out to Windu, grip-first. “Every shot was less dangerous than those training orbs. It’s a little trick I learned a long time ago. If you puncture a tibanna gas canister the right way, the shots lose nearly all their strength while still looking exactly the same as before. Pretty useless… Unless you want to trick somebody.”

“You… tricked me?” Krell yelped. “You weren’t actually trying to kill me?”

Windu eyed her and then took the blaster. He scrutinized it, before firing into the floor. Then—very carefully—he grazed the edge of his arm with another shot. It didn’t even singe the sleeve. Finally, he fired a shot into his open palm. No damage. 

“Why?” he said finally. “What was the point?”

Ahsoka raised her brow, and then leaned around him, indicating the still-kneeling Krell with a jerk of her head. When Windu turned to look at him again, she slid past and crouched down opposite Krell. 

“Pong Krell,” she said. Her voice was so soft, dangerously so, like a volcanic vent letting off steam just before an eruption. “The worst of circumstances can twist even the kindest of people into something unrecognizable. You’ve just found out what happens when you run headfirst into your limits. What are you going to do about it?”

It took a mammoth effort for Krell to look up to her, his throat working to form words that never made it to his lips. 

Yoda, now next to Krell, laid a hand on his shoulder. “Talk, we should, Knight Krell,” he said sadly. 

Ahsoka jumped back up and faced what was essentially a captive audience. 

“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” she said, her voice ringing out. “The Sith have returned. Whether we like it or not, we are at war. Our limits are going to be tested. Broken down entirely. Every one of you needs to find out what you will do when that happens to you.” 

She looked down at Krell one last time, and started for the door, brushing past a still-shocked Obi-Wan and Yenna and not even sparing a backward glance at her own Padawans. 

“The crucible of war will melt even the gentlest of Jedi into a violent shadow of themselves if they aren’t prepared,” she threw over her shoulder, almost to the door and to Plo.

It came out choked, a sob nearly drowning out the last word. He didn’t try to stop her from leaving, but he reached out as she passed by. 

“Ahsoka—”

No reply. He hurried into the hallway after her, not even sure what he was trying to do now. His instinct was to comfort her like the child he’d brought to the Temple, but he already knew it wouldn’t—

Ahsoka stopped short, glaring at him through tear-stained eyes. 

“Don’t ask me what happened to General Krell,” she snapped. 

With that, she stalked away. 

Plo didn’t try to follow her this time, a deep sadness filling him. There was a ceaseless tension in her form as she disappeared around a corner, as if she thought she’d be crushed by the weight of the world if she relaxed for even a second. 

Ahsoka hadn’t even noticed the slip of her tongue. But it was impossible for Plo to miss it. One word in her parting sentence which stood out painfully. One word which was paradoxical in its context. One word which filled him with fresh apprehension and prompted another brigade of questions. 

General Krell. 

General. 

The Jedi were not military commanders.

Ahsoka wondered what had happened to the Room of a Thousand Fountains during the Empire’s rule. With Palpatine taking the Temple for his own personal palace (the thought still made her nauseous), had he let the fountains stay intact, carefully maintaining them so he could revel in the fact that he’d stolen all this beauty from the Jedi? Or had he simply destroyed any trace of the Order’s peace in this building? Or had he just abandoned the fountains, leaving them to run dry and rot and crumble while the plants grew out of control, snarling their surroundings until everything withered away?

You don’t need to think about that anymore, she reminded herself. You’re going to stop it from ever happening, and everything will be okay. 

She hated how much she felt like she was lying to herself sometimes. 

She tried to keep her focus on the things which actually mattered right now: the soothing coldness of the water around her feet—sitting on the edge of the precipice in her favorite hideaway, letting her lower legs dangle in the water. The soft pillowy moss under her. The smooth metal of Artoo’s side as she rested her back against him, listening to the whirs and hums of his internals. And most importantly: the hologram projected from Artoo’s dome, displaying a miniature image of Padmé Amidala as she conversed with Ahsoka. 

“—starting to encounter resistance in the Senate—” Padmé was saying. 

Ahsoka wasn’t going to say this out loud, but it was comforting to be talking to Padmé again, even if this was Traumatized Fourteen-Year-Old Padmé instead of Super-Politician Adult Padmé. There was someone else in the galaxy with the same burning desire to take down Palpatine—and it was the one person who might be able to beat him at his own game of politics. More and more, telling Padmé about Palpatine being Sidious felt like the most important thing she’d done in this timeline. 

They’d been talking for a while—about Naboo’s recovery, about Padmé’s efforts to get reparations from the Trade Federation, about the political fallout of everything. And, naturally, Sidious. 

“—I just hope I will be able to accomplish everything before I’ve lost the initiative. I don’t know how much longer I can rely on the bombardment to galvanize the Senate.”

“Yeah.”

“And I cannot tell you how immensely frustrating it is that I am racing against some sort of unidentifiable countdown to get anything done.” 

“Have you considered just… ignoring the Senate?” 

“What?” Ahsoka wasn’t looking at the hologram at that moment, but she just knew Padmé was blinking at her in surprise. 

“Do you really need their approval to get what you need?” It was the same thing she’d been telling the Jedi, and she was right, so why not try it with Padmé? The Senate was the thing Palpatine had the most direct control over. The less her allies (or anyone) relied on it, the weaker Palpatine would be. “You want reparations. The Trade Federation just lost their entire navy, and Naboo still has a functioning one. Why not just… seize some of their assets?” 

Padmé’s face went tight. “That would be tantamount to war.” 

Ahsoka shrugged. “If the Senate’s not doing anything about Naboo, they sure aren’t going to do anything about that. Besides, the optics. It’s one thing for the Senate to slow down some reparations bill, but it’s another thing to actually stop the poor grieving queen of her planet from bloodlessly taking what she’s owed from the corporation which bombed her home city.” 

“Bloodlessly?” 

Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile a little bit. It was such a Padmé thing that this was the word she was latching onto out of all that. 

“Well, yeah. Navy versus no navy. And the Trade Federation’s under a magnifying glass right now, so they’re going to be careful about getting any other bad publicity.” 

“Hm.” Padmé went silent. In the ensuing pause, Ahsoka ran her fingers slowly through the moss, listening to the babble of the water around her and letting the calm soak into her bones. 

“It is certainly a compelling suggestion, but I would like to avoid any course of action which might lead us back to war. For now, I will keep my tactics to those which are unquestionably legitimate.”

Ahsoka nodded. Before she could say anything else, the Force tickled at the back of her head, warning her someone was approaching.

“I should go,” she said. “We’ll talk again soon, though.” 

Padmé bowed. “I look forward to it.” 

“Great.” Ahsoka reached for the holoprojector switch on Artoo, and then stopped. “Hey, Padmé?”

Padmé gave her a questioning look. 

“You’re doing amazing,” Ahsoka said. “I mean it. Just a little bit of what you’ve gone through would’ve broken a lot of good leaders. You’re an inspiration for your people.” 

The main reason she was saying this was: when she was Padmé’s age and she was jumping from battle to battle with a Master with questionable teaching skills and her mistakes meant lives lost, she wanted nothing more than someone to tell her she was doing well. For someone to tell her all of her trying was for something and wasn’t futile. 

It was still something she wanted to hear, honestly. She’d just gotten much better at ignoring that desire. Padmé, though… probably hadn’t.

A small, genuine smile crossed Padmé’s expression. “Thank you. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve broken and haven’t realized it yet.” 

With that, her hologram blinked out, and Ahsoka was left alone with Artoo as two sets of footsteps made their way up the stone stairs towards her. She turned her head just as Master Plo appeared at the grotto entrance with the younger version of herself in tow.

She tilted her head. “I don’t recall telling you I was here.” Her whole point in being here was to brood in solidarity. 

Plo shrugged. “I had a feeling.” He let go of Ashla’s hand, letting her pad carefully across the moss to Ahsoka. 

Ahsoka watched her plop down at her side, her legs dangling over the side of the rock, not yet long enough to reach the water. Then she looked up at her, giving her an enormous grin. “Hi.” 

“Hey, kid,” Ahsoka said softly. “How’ve you been?”

“Good.” Ashla turned her gaze to the swirling currents below. 

“Still okay if I call you Ashla?” 

That got her to look up at Ahsoka again, nodding eagerly. “Yep!”

“Not just with you,” Plo said with a small laugh. “She’s asking others to call her Ashla, too.” 

“Huh. Okay.” Ahsoka didn’t know how to feel about the fact that she was maybe fundamentally changing the identity of her younger self. She was having trouble convincing herself it was a bad thing, though. 

Her musings were interrupted when Artoo rolled up to her side and let out a confused whistle as his dome swiveled back and forth between Ahsoka and Ashla. 

Ahsoka couldn’t help but giggle. “Meet another one of my secrets, little guy.”

Artoo scooted closer to Ashla and extended one of his utility arms to poke at her, which in turn made Ashla poke him back. A small poking match ensued before he pulled back and blipped in approval. 

Ahsoka looked over her shoulder. “Did you bring her here just to try and cheer me up?” 

Plo didn’t meet her gaze. “...I suppose that is how one could interpret this, yes.” 

“Well…” Ahsoka went back to watching Ashla. The Force around her was so unapologetically bright and unburdened. She was humming contentedly, kicking her legs energetically in the air while grabbing random tufts of moss and tossing them into the water. 

“It’s working,” she said. 

Ashla. 

Ashlaaaaa.

Ashhhhhhhhhhhla. 

Ash-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-la. 

Ashla liked the name. It sounded gentle, happy, like the sounds people made to help her fall asleep. Every part of it could be as long as she liked. She could say the name quickly, or slowly, pulling out all the sounds until she ran out of breath. 

She watched the water spinning under her feet, amazed. It just kept going and going and going… like her name. 

Ashla, Ashla, Ashla. 

And Ahsoka gave her this name! That was important. Ahsoka was Ashla’s big sister. Ahsoka felt warm. Ahsoka felt safe. Ahsoka felt like home. 

Ahsoka also had a lot of sadness swirling around inside her. Ashla wanted to make the sadness go away, but she didn’t know how. 

She tried taking all her happiness and pushing it towards Ahsoka. That made Ahsoka smile, which was really good. 

Ashla yawned. This cave made her sleepy, but good sleepy. It was hard to keep her eyes open, though. She leaned into Ahsoka’s side and relaxed. 

There was a faint beeping sound. Not important, but insistent. She didn’t pay attention to it. That was for Ahsoka to deal with. Ashla was going to sleep.

Ahsoka was trying her absolute hardest to hold back tears as she watched Ashla fall asleep against her, her head lolling and eventually coming to rest in Ahsoka’s lap. She could feel Ashla’s heartbeat against her skin as her chest rose and fell. 

There was just something about Ashla, the version of herself who hadn’t been hurt by the galaxy yet, that stirred up a powerful protective urge in her. It was like Ahsoka Tano had run out of hope, and then the galaxy turned on its head and now there was an Ahsoka Tano who hadn’t run out of hope. Ashla gave her hope. 

Plo’s comm had beeped an incoming message a minute ago, and now he was listening closely. Finally, he lifted his head.

“That was the Council. There’s someone who wants to talk to you,” he said. 

“Who?” Ahsoka murmured, doing her best not to wake Ashla. She really didn’t want to do anything else right now except relax with her other self. 

“Aurra Sing. And she’s saying she’ll only talk to you.” 

“What? You’re serious?”

“She didn’t actually mention you by name, but she is asking for, quote, ‘the Togruta who fights like all the devils in the galaxy bundled up into one bag of flesh,’ so I do think it’s you she wants.” 

Okay, that had Ahsoka’s attention. She sighed and carefully navigated her arms around Ashla’s sleeping form to pull out her comm, flicking it to hologram mode. “Patch me through.” 

That sure was Aurra Sing who popped up on the screen. She squinted at Ahsoka and then breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Fucking hell, you’re harder to track down than a ghost. I need your help,” she said. 

Ahsoka tilted her head. “Excuse me?” 

“You know the guy who hired us to kill your spiky friend? Sidious? Well, I don’t know what we did to royally piss Sidious off, but he’s smoking the survivors one by one. Dengar’s dead. Embo’s dead. And I know they weren’t accidents.” 

“Got any proof?” 

“Sure.” Sing’s voice dropped to a hiss. “I used to be a Jedi Padawan. I can sense danger. And this is the biggest danger I’ve ever sensed.” 

“Fair enough,” Ahsoka said. She didn’t press further, waiting instead for Sing to keep going. Which she did, hastily.

“I’m hiding with Sugi on Oba Diah. But somebody’s tracking us here, and the Pykes aren’t any help.” She paused to glance over her shoulder. “I watched you chew through my colleagues like a scrap shredder. I know what you’re capable of. I need your protection.” 

Ahsoka nodded slowly, pretending to look thoroughly bored. She already knew what her answer was going to be, but she wanted to dig a little deeper first. “Why should I help you?” 

That reply was enough to make Sing look genuinely surprised. “Because of your bleeding-heart Jedi principles which mean you’ll help anybody who asks for it?” 

“You know, you are a highly dangerous criminal who’s wanted by the Republic, and I’m fine letting the criminal underworld take care of its own problems—”

“Okay! Okay! Damn it.” Sing crossed her arms, looked over her shoulder one more time, and then leaned so close to the camera it distorted her image. “I’ve got some intel on a dead Jedi. Find me on Oba Diah and guarantee my safety, and you’ll get everything I know.” 

Ahsoka raised a brow. Now that was a trail worth following.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka had a bad feeling about this. 

For many reasons. The Pyke Syndicate, the rulers of Oba Diah, were no friends of the Jedi, and there was a palpable tension in the air, so thick she could almost chew on it. She’d sensed a sinister presence on the planet from the moment they’d dropped out of hyperspace. But her most immediate problem: Aurra Sing hadn’t said where to find her.

Shmi and Anakin were so far following her instructions to stay close. It was just the three of them on this mission, their first adventure on their own. She’d found proper sets of armor for both of them just before leaving. It made her feel better to see them wearing decent protection. Shmi was smart and Anakin was Anakin, but any random twit in the galaxy could get one lucky shot in.

She led them to the edge of a street market, where she stopped and crossed her arms as she scanned the area. The Force was silent as she passed her gaze over racks of glistening cuts of meat and baskets of exotic fruits being sold at outrageous prices. 

With her armor and a “leave me alone” glower she’d perfected a decade ago, most people assumed she was a bounty hunter, and a deadly one. So she had no trouble clearing a space in the crowd for the three of them.

“What do you sense right now?” she asked, nodding to them. This felt like a good time for a lesson. Maybe they could sense something she couldn’t. 

“It’s really noisy,” Anakin said, shifting on his feet and looking quite confused. “How can I feel anything when there’s… so many different things to sense?” 

“That’s where I can help. Shmi?” 

Shmi had a more thoughtful expression on her face, and took several seconds before answering. “If I focus on one person nearby, it becomes easier to recognize their mood, but I don’t see how that helps us right now.”

“You’re on the right track.” Ahsoka held out a hand, and after a moment, Shmi and Anakin placed their hands in hers. “You can look for something in the Force just by focusing on it, no matter what it is or whatever else is going on.”

“Okay, but I’m thinking about Aurra Sing and I don’t feel her anywhere!” Anakin groused.