Chapter Text
Ahsoka ran, feet pounding against the metal, through the allies and shafts of the Coruscant underworld, breaths coming out in gasps. She had to get away from them: the Jedi, the clones, even though all she wanted was to sob on Rex’s unyielding plastoid shoulder and to hide in the shadow of Anakin.
But, she couldn’t go back.
She ran faster, for ahead of her was an outlet into Coruscant, a possible escape.
She came to a slipping halt, almost falling from the slickness of the metal, grabbing onto the doorframe for support.
Her eyes widened as she sharply inhaled, for there was only a dropoff through screaming air traffic into the dark underworld of coruscant.
“Ahsoka, what are you doing?!”
She turned, anger clouding her vision, “You didn’t even try to come and help me!”
There was Anakin, eyes desperate and angry, tall and authoritative, “They didn’t let me in to talk to you.”
“You could have if you tried!”
“How would that look, Ahsoka?” Anakin said, “That would make you look even more guilty!”
She screamed, her voice painfully hoarse, “I’m not guilty!”
Anakin held his hands out, placating, beckoning, “We have to prove you’re innocent,” he pointed behind, “We can only do that if we go back.” He walked towards her slowly, eyes pleading, “I would never let anyone hurt you Ahsoka, never.” He swallowed, “But, you must come back!”
She seethed, her fists clenched, “No! I am not going to take the fall for something I did not do!”
Anakin’s presence shifted, and Ahsoka stepped back.
Anakin stepped forward threateningly, “I am ordering you to put down your lightsabers and come with me, now!”
Ahsoka stepped back, eyes narrowed.
Anakin’s eyes softened, “Please, Ahsoka, trust me.”
Then, Rex shouted, “General Skywalker!”
Their time had run out.
“I do trust you, Anakin.” Ahsoka swallowed, “But, although you believe me, no one else will.” She turned and looked down into the air traffic, the lights swimming as if through a veil of tears, “Now, it is time for you to trust me.”
“I do trust you, Ahsoka!” Anakin said, hand on his heart.
She met his blue eyes one last time, “I know.”
She turned her back on him.
“Please, Ahsoka!” Anakin screamed, raw and painful and grinding, and her montrals shuddered.
Then, she stepped off the ledge and through the door.
As she fell, the grey metal changed to green trees, and the electric lights turned to stars.
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When Ahsoka regained consciousness, the first thing she knew was dampness and softness. She opened her eyes to see the stars, not city lights, brighter than she’d ever seen, far above her head, swimming back and forth in a drunken dance.
She sat up, pressing her palms against her aching eyes. After a long moment, the pain was bearable, and her vision stopped shaking.
She was sprawled in a grassy field by a group of four-legged animals with long hair and glossy sleek coats, like no creatures she’d seen. They were harmless; their force signatures peaceful and subdued.
Ahsoka stood, legs shaking like jelly, and slipped her lightsabers into her hands. She called out, “Rex! Anakin?”
She began to run, throwing stealth aside, crashing through the grass like an uncoordinated bantha, “Anakin! Rex!” Tears gathered in her eyes as she ran, searching for anything, anything at all like Coruscant, which, perhaps only moments ago, she never wanted to see again.
There was nothing but silence.
Now, she would give anything to hear the sirens, the speeders, the pounding songs, and the slams of construction. She would have even been glad to hear her pursuers again, for anything was better than utter isolation and ignorance of how she came to be here, at this place, in this time.
To her growing horror, she recognized she had no recollection of landing on her own two feet.
Ahsoka always landed on her feet.
But no, all she recalled was an endless fall through metal, trees, lights, and stars.
She ran until her right leg cramped and her eyes swam with confusion. She stopped slowly, chest heaving, and collapsed onto the ground.
Clutching her throbbing leg, she screamed into the empty world, her voice breaking. But, no one heard her cry, not even a Coruscant guard, for she was alone.
The scenery was unchanged, the rolling hills, speckled with groves, stretching on until they met the distant horizon, the long grass dancing in the cold wind like a cloudy Kaminoan ocean.
She closed her eyes and turned to her last resort: the training bond.
But, there was only echoing emptiness where once resided Anakin’s profound presence. The bond was not torn with bloody ends, as if he had died, but was utterly empty, a home without a family.
She had lost him.
Her grief was too strong for her to stand. She curled up and sank into a deep healing sleep, unable to face a world without Anakin.