Chapter Text
The setting sun of Coruscant bled the horizon into shades of 212th yellow and vibrant orange. The end of a day; and the end of a life she once thought had been everything to her.
Ahsoka felt lost and betrayed, but also determined and resolved as she turned away from Anakin. A good Jedi would have tried releasing all those tangled, messy emotions into the Force. Ahsoka wasn’t cut out to be a Jedi, as she had recently come to realize.
She had made her choice. She usually wasn’t one to second guess herself (sometimes to the detriment and sometimes to the benefit of her men). Ahsoka didn’t ponder her decisions, even when it might actually be better if she did. It meant that she often acted brashly, impulsively and with little regard to the consequences. It also meant that she more often than not, reacted quicker than the enemy was expecting.
And while her plans were hardly ever thought out, by some miracle or an instinct, or the Force’s interference, things mostly worked out fine nowadays.
Whatever the case, Ahsoka had learned to trust her instincts, and those instincts were currently screaming at her to get away from the Order.
She had made up her mind and usually nothing would be able to change that. Not some half-assed apologies from the Council, not the promise of knighthood, not even her master’s sad, almost pleading eyes.
Usually. The one exception to that rule was currently insistently pounding against her mental shields. The Force was basically screaming at her. Hollering wrong and danger and mistake so loudly that she couldn’t focus on anything else.
She faltered in her steps. The Force gave an encouraging nudge back towards the temple, and Ahsoka wanted to scream. She was done with the Order and the Council. She really believed that her path lied elsewhere, and her gut was telling her the same thing. Only, the Force didn’t seem to agree.
Ahsoka didn’t care what the Force thought. She took another step away from the temple. And the cacophony of wrongness started up again.
A Jedi she may no longer think of herself as, but she still wasn’t stupid enough to ignore a warning from the Force. Especially not one so insistent. She didn’t think the Force had ever screamed at her this loudly before.
It was with a lot of reluctance and a fair share of resentment that she turned around. She knew that she would eventually regret ignoring the will of the Force. Though, the regret she currently felt for not following her instincts was almost worse.
The way both trepidation and stress drained out of her training bond with Anakin, only to be replaced by hope made her feel guilty.
It wasn’t because of her master that she had turned around. Nothing he could have said would have changed her mind. Only the Force had been able to.
The steps back to the temple felt heavier than anything in the Coruscanti atmosphere should. Anakin’s hope blooming in her chest like one of Umbara’s flesh-eating plants made them feel even heavier.
“Changed your mind, Snips?” he asked with a wane smile.
Hardly, she thought. But the Force was ringing with rightness and approval, as she stepped up to her old master. She nodded, not trusting her voice not to project her reluctance. She was already leaking all of her conflicting emotions into the Force. No need to draw Anakin’s attention to them.
The hug he pulled her into was so forceful it hurt her still smarting bruises. He held her in that possessive way every watching master would certainly frown upon.
Ahsoka didn’t care. She still took comfort from it. She wasn’t mad at or disappointed in her master, after all. He had been the only one in the Order who had not let her down, never stopped believing in her or fighting for her.
Unlike Master Kenobi and Plo. The thought of the two Council members had bitterness twisting in her stomach. She’d have to face them again, soon. Even though she really wasn’t ready for that confrontation. Broken trust was a terrible thing. It reached so deeply inside ones being that not even releasing the feelings into the Force helped.
Accepting her Padawan bead back when Anakin held it out to her didn’t feel too different from accepting the binders from the Coruscanti Guard, Ahsoka found. The distinct feeling of giving up her freedom.
She was following the will of the Force, she reminded herself. The phrase rang almost hollow in her mind. Because she was beginning to doubt it. She had lost all faith in herself and the Order and without faith there was nothing anchoring her decision. It shouldn’t matter. The Force had made its will clear and that, Ahsoka should trust.
“Well, I’m glad to have you back. You won’t regret your choice, I promise you,” Anakin said as his smile grew more sincere and less shaky. And Ahsoka swallowed the bitter response that she wanted to spit at her master. Because she was already filled with regret, overflowing with it, projecting it into the Force like an inexperienced youngling; and yet Anakin was blissfully ignorant to that plight, or at least he pretended to be.
“Let’s just go back in and talk to the Council,” Ahsoka sighed tiredly. She was done with that day and wanted nothing more than go to bed with the faint hope that she would feel less… unbalanced the day after. Fat chance of that happening, but a girl could hope.
The Council, for once, seemed to have mercy on her, as they accepted her change of mind without question (though with the promise or threat of revisiting the topic, as well as the matter of her knighting the next day).
They seemed a lot less oblivious about her less than positive feelings than Anakin. Yoda and Shaak-Ti shot her looks that were a mixture of curious and concerned from the second she walked back into the chamber. Master Windu had mustered her with a raised brow and an unhappily pinched lip and Master Kenobi, while looking serene and at peace to an outside observer, had been releasing faint traces of worry and guilt into the Force.
Ahsoka wasn’t looking forward to the meeting that would happen the next day. A sentiment her master seemed to share. He had waited outside the Council chamber while she talked to them at her insistence.
She didn’t need him blowing up at the Council in righteous fury. This was something she had to sort out on her own. Something she would have liked to sort out away from the Order, in fact. But it didn’t seem like she’d be getting that luxury.
Still, she needed distance, and sleeping in their room at the temple like Anakin was suggesting wouldn’t grand her that.
“I’m gonna sleep in my room in the Venator tonight, Anakin,” she rejected. He seemed disappointed, but Ahsoka felt him release those feelings into the Force with a deep exhale.
“Alright. I understand. Sleeping in the temple probably isn’t the best idea for us, right now.”
“You’re gonna come to the Venator too?” Ahsoka asked, wearily. She didn’t want Anakin there, at that moment. She needed to be alone. To get her thoughts in order. To figure out the mess her life had become overnight. And to prepare for the meeting with the Council the next day would bring.
“Not if you don’t want me there, no. But after what happened today. Well, I guess we’re both in need of some distance from those stuffy Councilors.” Anakin’s tone had darkened when he’d mentioned the Council in a way Ahsoka had never heard before. She was used to her master being annoyed with the Council. He didn’t agree with them on many things. But this time, she detected a flaming note of something that almost resembled hatred.
Worry spiked through her for a second, but Ahsoka dismissed the emotion just as quickly as it had come.
Hatred was a dangerous emotion to be harboring. But she trusted Anakin to let go of it in time. After all, the happenings of the night were still fresh and Anakin often needed a while to process emotions before letting them go. This wasn’t anything to worry about.
Anakin seemed to interpret her silence differently. “Alright. Message received. I’ll leave you alone with the boys and see if Padme has a guest bed for me.”
Guest bed, sure. The amusement that usually flooded her when thinking about Anakin’s secret, horribly obvious relationship, didn’t quite want to come up that evening.
Though, she was glad that Anakin had someone he could vent his worries to. Chances were that Padme could help him untangle his own mixed feelings. Which was a good thing, with how unbalanced Anakin was feeling through their bond.
“Good… That’s probably for the best,” Ahsoka stated awkwardly. Force, she’d never felt so out of place next to her master.
“One more thing, Ahsoka. The Council meeting tomorrow. Do you want me to be there? I’d be happy to have your back when you face them.” Another flash of burning-hot anger.
Ahsoka shook her head. She felt like that was something she needed to do alone. Also, the risk of him Force-slamming their stubborn heads into the wall of the chamber was still there.
Anakin looked hurt by that refusal, but he nodded his acceptance. “Well then. Goodnight, Ahsoka. And good luck with the Council tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Anakin,” she parroted with a slight bow. Formalities that had never been them. Never felt right between them. But nothing felt right anymore, anyway. And just walking away without some kind of gesture felt even worse.
Ahsoka took a speeder back to the Venator. The familiar motions of piloting were calming, almost meditative, though she didn’t quite allow herself to fall into the currents of the Force for a moving meditation.
Instead, she focused on her surroundings. She took in the shiny skyscrapers that were glittering almost red as the setting sun hit them. Ahsoka couldn’t spot any police droids in the busy traffic. Still, no one around her was leaking feelings of fear or distress into the Force.
They felt safe even without the presence of law enforcement. It all stood in such stark contrast to the desolate lower levels Ahsoka had walked through mere hours before. Down there not even the heightened presence of the police force had helped the constant feeling of fear and wariness that hung over the streets. In fact, Ahsoka thought that their presence had made things worse.
It was like entering a completely different world. Not just taking an elevator a few levels down. Ahsoka had been aware of the lower levels, in theory of course. But she’d never ventured far enough into Coruscant’s underbelly to truly witness the misery that was grouting into the very foundations of Coruscant right underneath the Jedi Temple.
And the Order was content to ignore the rot amassing down there. Ahsoka had been content to ignore it too. She’d never paid her limited visits to the lower levels much mind. Too focused on the glory of the battlefield. The promise of knighthood.
How could the Jedi be so focused on battles on far away planets in the Outer Rim while their home was slowly rotting away? The question wasn’t fair, of course. It was a reflection of her own bitterness. Ahsoka was painfully aware that the Jedi would help if they could. They were cornered by the Senate. They had to continue fighting in this war. And besides, the lower levels had been lawless ground for centuries. To think that the problems down there could be solved by the presence of a few Jedi was naïve.
Still, they had to try.
Do or do not. There is no try. Yoda's voice rang through her in a playful voice that managed to sound scolding at the same time. Well then, why was it that the Council seemed to always choose the “do not” option?
Ahsoka finally made it to the barracks as the last rays of natural light disappeared from the horizon. The difference was barely seen, as thousands of streetlights seemed to blink on in unison.
The space before the barracks were illuminated by harsh, unforgivingly bright floodlights. They didn’t leave a single shadowed corner around the dozen Venators currently on the landing pad. Guard troopers were patrolling the perimeter in groups of five, checking every nook and cranny with practiced diligence.
Ahsoka parked her speeder in a free spot and promptly made her way towards the Resolute. Only to be stopped just as promptly by one of the patrols.
“This is a restricted area ma’am. We must ask you to vacate the premises immediately,” the clone said in a voice that indicated that he repeated that same phrase at least a few times a day.
Ahsoka sighed. She didn’t have the comm with her ID. She’d smashed it in the lower levels and of course hadn’t thought about asking for a new one until that moment.
“I’m Jedi Commander Ahsoka Tano of the 501st. I have clearance to be here,” she stated calmly.
“Understood, ma’am. Just let us scan your ID and we’ll leave you to your business,” the guard said. He’d fallen into a crisp parade rest before her. His squadmates copied his posture.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, trooper. I don’t have my comm,” Ahsoka lamented with a gesture towards the empty slot on her vambrace.
“In that case I’ll have to ask you to clear the premise. I’m sorry ma’am, but we can’t let anyone without the proper clearance pass,” the trooper repeated and Ahsoka resigned herself to a trip back to the Temple. It was then, that she picked up on a familiar Force presence rushing towards her from the barracks.
“Commander! You’re alright,” Jesse said, falling into a more than sloppy parade rest as he mustered her with worried eyes. He was missing most of his armor, only the leg pieces in place.
“I am. Thanks to Anakin,” Ahsoka said.
“That’s really good to see, sir. The boys were worried. Between us, I think Fives was about ready to storm the Senate building to get you out.”
“And I’m sure you tried your best to dissuade him from something so reckless, Jesse,” Ahsoka said with a grin that bordered genuine. Trust her Torrent boys to center her where not even Anakin could.
“I didn’t even bother. We both know that the only person alive that’s able to talk him down when he stops thinking is Tup,” Jesse said, shrugging unapologetically. He didn’t mention that he went along with Fives' near crazy ideas more often than not.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I must really insist that you leave,” the guard trooper cut in.
Jesse turned to his fellow clone with an incredulous look on his face. “Leave? What the kriff do you mean leave?! That’s our commander. She has clearance to be here.”
“Not without her ID, she does not,” the trooper replied. He didn’t even turn his head to look at Jesse.
“Are you serious right now? This is quite obviously the commander of 501st. What does it matter that she doesn’t have the flimsi to proof it on her.”
“Protocol dictates that no one without a clearance pass is to enter the barracks or one of the Venators. Your commander doesn’t have her pass, hence she isn’t cleared.”
“Little gods, how does that matter? She’s Ahsoka Tano. Everyone with even half an eye and two functioning brain cells would be able to tell.”
The guard let out a sigh that was so quiet, she doubted Jesse or any other human would have been able to hear. “It’s protocol vod. There are dozens of ways someone could disguise themselves as your commander. Shadow holograms, changelings… the list goes on. If we make an exception and let her pass and something bad happens, we’ll be the ones to take the fall”
Ahsoka could feel his nervousness in the Force. He seemed almost afraid of something, though neither his posture nor his voice gave any feelings away. He addressed her again. “Not that we don’t think you’re who you claim to be… commander. We’re just covering our bases. I hope you understand, ma’am.”
Ahsoka was about to cut her losses and make the way back to the temple, so she could get herself a new comm and with it a new ID, when Jesse spoke up again.
“You really think I wouldn’t recognize my commander? I’ve been fighting by her side for as long as I’ve been with the 501st. Years. I would know when someone was impersonating her. This discussion is ridiculous, just let her pass.”
“It’s not like we don’t believe that it is her. However, we can’t let her pass without her ID. It’s protocol.”
“’It’s protocol’ Do you hear yourself, vod? You sound like a kriffing clanker repeating orders. Just think for yourself for a second.”
“Jesse, that’s enough!” Ahsoka heaved a great sigh as she glared at her friend. Fives was rubbing off on him in the worst possible ways. “It’s fine. There’s no reason to insult a trooper just doing his job. Guess I’ll just sleep in my room at the temple, and see you boys tomorrow.” Her mood was really souring at the thought of her small room at the temple. Anakin wouldn’t even be in the second bedroom as a soothing presence.
“Actually, commander… I was just thinking. This isn’t exactly according to protocol, but there is no reason why we shouldn’t allow you on the premises with one of us present to keep an eye on you. Just leave your lightsabers with the Sergeant and I’ll be your escort for your stay,” another trooper piped up. None of the other guard troopers seemed surprised, which Ahsoka took to mean that they had discussed the proposal over their bucket comms.
She smiled gratefully at the trooper. He’d just saved her from the trip back to the Jedi Temple and an undoubtedly sleepless night. The thought of leaving her sabers behind again left her with an uncomfortable tingling, but she thought that it was better than the alternative.
“That would be a great solution. As long as you won’t get into any trouble with your superiors.”
“No, ma’am. Commander Fox will understand when we explain the situation,” the first trooper explained. He seemed less nervous now.
Ahsoka nodded. “You’re the Sergeant, I assume?” she asked, as she reluctantly unclipped her lightsabers.
“Yes, ma’am,” the quick, precise salute he snapped at her seemed almost instinctive. And a little over-the-top for Ahsoka who was used to the laxer interpretation of protocol that Torrent was known for.
“Alright, Sergeant, please take good care of those,” she asked, holding out her sabers to the trooper, “I’d hate for them to go missing. Kyber crystals are kinda hard to come by.”
She smiled at the guard, not expecting for his nervousness to send another wailing spike into the Force. “Of course, commander. I’ll get them back to you in the morning.”
Ahsoka nodded her thanks to the Sergeant, then turned her attention to the trooper who was supposed to escort her. “After you, ma’am,” he asked, all professional determination, both in voice and in the Force. Ahsoka nodded and made her way towards the Resolute. Jesse and the guard both tailing after her.
“You’re not sleeping in the barracks with the boys, sir?” Jesse asked as he realized where they were headed.
“And disturb our shinies? No, I need some time alone and away from the temple, Jesse. You can tell the boys I said hello, though.”
“You’re hardly alone with that red tick, commander,” Jesse commented lightly, though Ahsoka could tell by the curl of his lip that he was just teasing his brother in red. Something, the guard didn’t seem to pick up on, if the spike of hurt that was clouding his presence for a second was anything to go by.
Ahsoka raised a confused eye-marking. She would have thought that a fellow clone would be the first to pick up on the signs of teasing. Perhaps Jesse had unknowingly hit a nerve with his comment?
“Don’t be rude, Jesse. Your brothers are going out of their way to help me. That’s no way to treat someone that’s doing you a favor,” Ahsoka lightly admonished. Something she’d never had to do before. No one in Torrent had ever taken offense to his teasing. They just quipped right back.
Jesse seemed to pick up on the worry she watched the Corrie with, as he didn’t protest her scolding. Instead, he turned to his brother with a sheepish smile that was just so Jesse. “Right. Sorry, vod. I meant no offense,” he stated genuinely, though his voice was tinged in confusion at having to explain that to a brother of all people.
“None taken,” the Corrie answered. There was confusion in him as well, but Ahsoka couldn’t tell what had elicited an emotion like that.
“So, anyway, trooper. Since it seems we’re going to be spending the next few hours together, I’d like to know your name.” He tensed almost imperceptibly. His steps faltered for not even a second.
“I’m CT-3489, ma’am,” he replied carefully. Which, what? Ahsoka hadn’t heard a clone referring to himself by his full number in years. Sometimes a shiny would tell her that he hadn’t chosen a name for himself yet and ask her to refer to him by number. Two digits, at most. But full designations? Ahsoka couldn’t even think of when that had happened to her the last time.
“Haven’t you chosen a name for yourself yet, trooper?” Ahsoka asked carefully. She couldn’t imagine that to be possible. The man before her was no shiny. The painting on his armor was flaking in places and the white plastoid was littered with scratches and a few black scorch marks he hadn't quite managed to scrub off. All of that hinted at the set being at least a year old.
“No ma’am, I have. But it is against regulations to give it to you. Please refer to me by my designation, or just keep calling me trooper. I don’t mind either.”
Ahsoka grimaced unhappily. Trooper was so impersonal. And designations… well Ahsoka was aware of how much the clones in the 501st hated them. However, she would defer to the trooper’s wishes. There was hardly anything more sacred to a clone than their name, after all. If he didn’t wish to share it, then Ahsoka wouldn’t be the one forcing him to.
Jesse seemed to be of the same mind. He didn’t say anything, even though Ahsoka could feel and see his barely concealed outrage. The reg manual doesn’t say anything about clone names anywhere. The sentiment was projected so clearly into the Force that Ahsoka was able to pick up on it.
Which made no sense, because the trooper hadn’t lied. His words had rung true in the Force. Had someone lied to him about regulations?
“Alright then. Nice to meet you, CT-3489,” Ahsoka relented. The designation felt like a betrayal on her tongue.
It was at that point that Jesse decided to take his leave. He seemed uncomfortable with the usage of designation, which Ahsoka didn’t blame him for. She didn’t even know what Jesse’s number was. And she’d known him for years.
The boarding of the silent Venator went without either her or the guard saying a word. Which didn’t surprise her. He seemed like the professional type, and she wasn’t down for small-talk that night. Seeing the large ship without the usual hum of activity was beyond strange. If she was honest with herself, it kind of freaked her out.
There were many words to describe the Resolute, but quiet had never been one of them. The Venator had always been a hub of activity when Ahsoka was on board. In and out of battle. During the day or the night cycle. There were always troopers milling around. Some on the way to the mess or the barracks, some on guard shift or maintenance duty, some just using the space to catch up with friends they didn’t bunk with.
The place was always filled with voices and the slight creaking noises plastoid armor made when a clone on duty moved. All of it highlighted by the gentle but constant hum of the engines. Those were the sounds Ahsoka had come to associate with home. Not the peaceful quiet of the temple, but the mess of noise a battleship made.
That night, the only sound echoing through the ship were the footsteps of her and her (probably unwilling) companion.
The hallways were illuminated by the red emergency light, though no alarms were sounding. Ahsoka had chosen to engage the emergency generator, instead of powering up the whole ship. CT-3489 was a near silent shadow as they traipsed through the mace that was a Venator class battleship. He was projecting a mixture of intrigue and longing into the Force, looking around the ship with what were no doubt curious eyes behind his helmet. Every other night, Ahsoka might have asked him what had caught his attention. But that night was different.
Her quarters were deep in the heart of the ship. Close to the bridge, so it would be easy for her to get there in case of an emergency. It meant that they walked in silence for close to twenty minutes before they finally reached her room.
Ahsoka typed in her code and stepped into the familiar space without hesitation. Something that couldn’t be said for the trooper who was clearly wrestling with himself. At least, that was something he had in common with his brothers in the 501st. They were all reluctant to encroach on her personal space. In the mess hall, or Force forbid in her room, though Ahsoka had never quite managed to figure out if that was because she was their CO or because she was a teenage female.
Either way, the guard trooper stepped into the room as she waved him in, though the way he felt in the Force made it clear to her that he would never have even thought of entering the room, had he not been forced to not let her out of sight.
The room itself wasn’t big by any means, smaller even than the one she inhabited at the temple, but it was hers. A bunk with GAR issue pillows and blankets, a desk Anakin had painstakingly fastened to the floor when she’d started filling out her own reports, (not that that helped with the way risky battle maneuvers flung datapads across the room), and a small, barely used pillow for meditating.
Ahsoka gestured the trooper to the chair that was bolted to the floor in front of her desk as she let herself sink into a meditation pose on the pillow. He ignored her invitation and continued to stand at stiff parade rest by the door. His shoulders were so tense they had to be causing him some sort of discomfort.
Ahsoka really wanted to forget he was there to begin with and offer herself up to the currents of the Living Force surrounding her. Seek for clarity and answers in deep meditation. However, she was too aware of how vulnerable deep meditation left a Jedi. Meditation meant a disconnection from the here and now. It meant lapsing attention and an inability to protect herself.
Ahsoka had never let herself go like that in the presence of someone she didn’t inexplicitly trust to have her back. Not outside of the safety the Temple used to provide, at least. The list of individuals she trusted with that type of vulnerability was incredibly short to begin with (and had just shortened by three names… Obi-Wan, Plo and Yoda).
All of which was to say, Ahsoka didn’t feel comfortable meditating in the presence of a complete stranger.
However, she also felt too keyed up to sleep. While her body was aching with the bone deep exhaustion that Ahsoka was familiar with after years of long campaigns in the Outer Rim, her mind was still reeling with everything that happened that day. It didn’t seem like her brain wanted to even acknowledge her body’s fatigue as it seemed to rattle and scream in the confines of her skull.
Too much had happened that day for Ahsoka to process all at once. Her expulsion from the Order, Barriss’ betrayal, the Council’s offer to knight her. Ahsoka hadn’t even contemplated that offer before. Not with how she’d been planning to leave the Order. It wouldn’t have mattered with her original plans.
She pulled her padawan beads over her shoulder, gently brushing over each pearl Anakin had carefully pulled onto the string. Each of the beads represented a challenge overcome or a skill mastered. Her fingers halted on the small sphere that indicated her mastery of beast taming. It hadn’t been Anakin who had taught her that particular skill, but her grandmaster.
Obi-Wan who had so gravely betrayed her trust. He had been the one who had taken over the more traditional parts of her training, where Anakin’s weaknesses revealed themselves. Meditation, beast taming, the rare lesson of Soresu (though Ahsoka was absolutely hopeless with the form). He’d given her pointers on Ataru as well, telling her stories about his own master who had favored the same form. He’d seen her grow up. How could he ever have believed her to be capable of terrorism?
Maybe, he had never believed it and had just gone along with the Council’s decision. Ahsoka didn’t know what would be worse. Her grandmaster not trusting her or him not bothering to speak up in her favor.
Then there was the matter of Barriss. Serene, unshakable Barriss so torn-up by the war that she would result to terrorism and the Dark Side. How could something like that even have happened? How had Ahsoka failed to notice her friend literally falling to the Dark Side? How hadn’t the Council noticed?
Ahsoka was painfully aware of how the shadow of the war was darkening the Force. It made it harder to perceive things like Barriss’ fall. Which was a convenient enough excuse for the Council’s unawareness, but not her own. Barriss was (or had been?) her friend. Ahsoka should have noticed that something was wrong with her way before she had turned to more extreme methods.
The temple guards had apprehended Barriss after her confession. Ahsoka briefly wondered if they’d let her speak to her friend at some point. Not anytime soon. Barriss’ betrayal was still too fresh in her mind. But Ahsoka knew that she’d like to know why Barriss had done what she had done.
Ahsoka was thrown out of her thoughts by a faint shuffling sound. It was so quiet that a human more than likely wouldn’t have picked up on it. The distinct sound of plastoid armor didn’t raise any alarms with her, it was a sound she associated with friendly company, in fact. But it did alert her to the fact that the poor trooper had been standing by the door in stiff parade rest for a prolonged period of time.
“You’re free to take a seat, you know?” Ahsoka attempted. She didn’t turn around to look at CT-3489, however she could still feel how he stiffened even more at her comment.
“Thanks for your concern, ma’am, but I’m perfectly fine,” he replied blandly.
Ahsoka sighed, unsure of how to handle the trooper. She hated how stiffly he was concocting himself, and just wanted him to relax, but she didn’t know how to make that happen without ordering him to take a seat.
Ahsoka didn’t want to do that, she hated throwing her authority around like that.
“When was your shift supposed to end, trooper,” she asked him gently.
“0100, ma’am,” he replied in that same bland, emotionless tone. It sounded polite enough, but it lacked any of the personal inflictions Ahsoka was so used to from her own troopers.
A quick look at the chrono had Ahsoka wincing. The time was closer to 0200 than not. So, the poor man was supposed to be on his rest cycle. Had been supposed to be there for close to an hour, in fact.
“So, you’re not technically on duty anymore?” Ahsoka pressed.
“Correct, ma’am. Though, I still took over the task of guarding your stay on this Venator. That duty doesn’t end until you leave the premises,” he replied.
“Well, I’m not leaving anytime soon. And standing there for another four to five hours can’t be comfortable,” Ahsoka coaxed with a pointed look at her chair.
“I’m perfectly fine, ma’am, really,” he insisted, even as Ahsoka could feel his exhaustion swirling through the Force. It was like a gentle fog, swirling around him. Barely perceptible, but there nonetheless.
“I didn’t question that, trooper. But you standing there all stiff and uncomfortable, while you’re supposed to be off-duty is making me feel horribly guilty,” Ahsoka attempted, changing tactics. Making this about her own comfort and not the troopers' bore results for the most part with her own boys. They were conditioned to place their Jedi's wellbeing above everything else, and Ahsoka had used that little quirk all clones she'd met shared for their benefit more times than she'd like to admit. Did that count as manipulative? Perhaps, but Ahsoka didn't care, when a clone's health was concerned.
“Ma’am, we were engineered to withstand circumstances far more strenuous than this. There is no need for you to feel bad for making us do something we were made for.”
Made for. Created for. Ahsoka hated it, when the clones talked about themselves like that. Like they were tools made for a singular purpose, when they were people. Not that she was about to have that discussion with a clone she didn't even know.
“You weren’t made to babysit undeserving padawans that couldn’t even remember to bring their clearance codes, and are too cowardly to sleep in the Temple. No trooper. This was never your job, and you helping me out regardless is appreciated. Much. I’d consider it a personal favor, even"
“All that, being said, I’d hate for someone who helped me to stand by the door like they aren’t welcome. So please, take a seat.”
Ahsoka could feel him warming up to the idea, before he even answered. She didn't know which part of her statement had done it. But that didn't matter, as long as some part of it had worked. And thank the Force for that. Master Obi-Wan might have taught her a thing or two about negotiating, as he called it (Ahsoka always preferred to call it sweet-talking), but that didn’t mean that she was great at it. She would have run out of arguments pretty soon, had the guard not caved.
And cave, he did. “I suppose if you put it like that,” he hedged uncertainly, as he fell into a more relaxed stance. He still held himself stiffly enough that not a single drill sergeant in the 501st would have found anything wrong with his stance, but it was the most relaxed Ahsoka had seen him.
When he finally sat down on her chair, his posture was still ramrod straight, but… well, at least he was sitting, Ahsoka supposed. She’d count that as a win. Ahsoka sent the trooper an encouraging smile. It was brittle, and she was self-aware enough to know that she was in a way using his presence to distract herself from her own spiraling thoughts.
Which, of course didn’t mean that she didn’t want the soldier before her to be comfortable. She did, she was just focusing on him in a way that felt a little… extra. More than normal.
In a way, Ahsoka was using his presence. Something she felt distantly bad for. Not enough for her to stop, though. Besides, the trooper was technically still benefitting from what she was doing. It was just her reasoning that wasn’t… great.
“Now, would you like some tea, trooper?” she asked, defaulting yet again to what she had learned from Master Obi-Wan. Tea, at least the blends that she had gotten from her grandmaster, was calming. It would help put CT-3489 at ease and might do some good to her own frayed nerves as well.
“Tea, ma’am?” he enquired, confusion plain in the Force around him, even if his voice was only colored with the barest hint of the emotion. It was an innocent curiosity, almost childlike. Ahsoka recognized the feeling from some of his shinier brothers in the 501st. The wonder they felt when they encountered something the Kaminoans and their trainers hadn’t prepared them for. Small bites of local cuisine, playing their first game of Sabacc with their brothers, seeing Anakin joking around with the Captain and some other members of Torrent for the first time.
It was a reminder of how young and sheltered these men truly were. They hadn’t known anything but battle for so long, and watching them familiarize themselves with concepts that went beyond war was always bittersweet. A stark reminder of how little joy there had been in their existence, sure. But there was also something resilient about it. How they took things in stride, determined to learn and experience what the Kaminoans had denied them.
Ahsoka was already moving before she even answered the trooper, rummaging through her meager belongings for the tea kettle she usually only ever touched when she was visited by her grandmaster. Ahsoka was more of a caff person herself, but even she couldn’t deny the calming effect some of Obi-Wan’s blends had.
Caff was great at keeping her awake and aware, but it did very little to calm frayed nerves, neither hers nor the trooper’s.
Master Obi-Wan claimed that even the process of preparing the tea was calming. Ahsoka had always assumed that tea making had a similar effect on him that tinkering had on her and her master. She didn’t quite get the same enjoyment out of boiling water and pouring it over a bunch of leaves in the exacting way, her grandmaster insisted enhanced the flavor.
She could still appreciate the rote, practiced movements… and the curiosity they obviously continued to feed in her companion. He (or rather his helmet) was hiding it well, but the fledgling thing blooming to life in the Force around him couldn’t be denied.
“This is a Mandalorian blend,” Ahsoka narrated as she steeped the tea. It didn’t have to sit for long, or it would become too spicy. Something she knew most clones adored, but she didn’t particularly care for. “I hope you can handle spices, because this one packs a punch.”
“I wouldn’t know, ma’am. Can’t say I’ve ever tried spicy food, or drinks.”
Ahsoka hummed, not surprised. She had gotten a whiff of how closely the corries tended to adhere to rules. And trying food outside of rations was apparently against regs. Some worry or the other about how an unbalanced, unmanaged diet might affect the troopers. Like a prolonged diet of GAR rations wasn’t (at the very least) a mental health hazard.
“Well, most of your brothers in the 501st love their spicy food, so statistically speaking, you should be fine,” Ahsoka stated as she calmly poured tea into the two cups, offering one to CT-3489, who seemed to have tensed back up at least some.
Perhaps he had realized that he would have to take off his bucket to drink the tea. Against regulations as he was technically still on guard duty. Ahsoka chose not to address that discomfort as she took a measured sip of the hot liquid. It was spicy, almost too much so for her taste. Master Obi-Wan really loved that blend…
Ahsoka watched CT-3489 with expectant eyes, that made it clear that she was waiting for him to take his own sip of tea.
The clone sighed, the noise nearly swallowed whole by his vocoder, and placed his cup on her table, before reaching up to unlatch the clasps that held his helmet in place. Most people, especially those without Force-sensitivity claimed that there was nothing exciting or unique about a clone’s face. Ahsoka begged to differ. The features might be the same, but she found that the little ways troopers chose to set themselves apart were far more telling than whether someone had red or blonde hair.
The differences might be smaller than those between natborns, but the meaning they held was far greater. They told stories of personality. Of things that mattered to a trooper, of battles fought.
Sitting before her now, was what most people might call a blank slate. No facial tattoos or scars, and something that might have passed for a regulation haircut a week or two ago, but was now slightly too long. There were dark circles underneath the trooper’s eyes, which made her feel even worse for making him miss his sleep circle.
His facial features gave away no emotion, but Ahsoka could still feel his nerves through the Force. Ahsoka, yet again, chose not to acknowledge what was happening beyond a small smile and took another sip of her own tea.
This seemed to prompt the trooper to do the same, as he lifted his cup back up. Curiosity seemed to override nervousness as he took a small sip of the tea.
His reaction was massive. Both in the Force and on his face. And Ahsoka couldn’t decide what made her feel more pleased; the way his eyes lit up, or the way everything but pure bliss seemed to drain out of his presence like it was sucked out of the airlock.
“I really like this, ma’am,” he admitted. His tone still lacked the infliction that Ahsoka could feel inside every other part of him. The dichotomy between the bright emotions mirrored in his eyes and his bland tone was stark and unsettling, even more so without the helmet as a buffer.
It didn’t matter to her. She was just glad that CT-3489 liked the tea.
“Glad to hear it, trooper,” Ahsoka answered with a smile.
The silence they fell into afterwards was both awkward and terrible at directing her thoughts away from things she really didn’t want to confront currently.
Her earlier assessment that she wasn’t up for small talk was suddenly overwritten by a desperate need to fill the silence. Deep down Ahsoka knew that avoiding to think about what had happened and what would happen next wasn’t smart. She should be consulting the Force, not chatting with her guard.
Then again, she was struggling to fall even into light meditation. So, there was no point in trying.
“So, trooper. I never got the opportunity to talk with a Corrie, and I’ve been wondering what your posting is like,” she mused with a slightly strained smile, taking another sip of tea in hopes of hiding its fraying edges.
“I’m sorry ma’am. But I’m not allowed to disclose the workings of the Guard to an outsider. It’s too big of a security risk.”
“No specifics then,” Ahsoka shrugged, “I’m sure you have some stories that you can share.”
He still hesitated.
“I know I have some about the 501st,” she added, hoping to appeal to his curiosity. Most clones were both unerringly curious and terrible gossips. That was, unless a piece of information was classified. Then they suddenly turned into the best secret keepers in the galaxy.
It appeared that the Guard was no exception to that rule, as CT-3489’s eyes lit up at the prospect of getting some first-hand-accounts from the frontlines. He even let out a short, restrained chuckle.
“You sure know how to drive a bargain, ma’am. Fine. Can’t say I have too many exciting things to talk about, though. I usually work the day shift in the Senate. Really, I was only here tonight because your little escape stunt has the whole Guard’s shift schedule in shambles.”
Ahsoka winced. “So you are aware of that. I’ve been wondering.”
“No offense, commander, but your capture was high priority. Every guard on-planet got your arrest order the second it came out. Commander Fox is thorough like that.”
“Right,” Ahsoka said, stretching the word awkwardly. That really wasn’t what she wanted to talk about. It seemed that CT-3489 noticed the same thing, as he didn’t elaborate on the topic.
“Anyway, the day shift at the Senate. It’s probably as boring as you imagine. Not a lot of action. Sometimes we get to fight off an assassin, but Commander Thorn’s squads usually catch those long before they enter the Senate building”
Ahsoka could sense the wistful longing in his presence. This trooper was itching for some action. For the glory of battle, and his job at the Senate was doing nothing to fulfill that need.
“It’s just a lot of long, boring patrols,” he lamented, then his words seemed to catch up with him and a flash of panic suppressed the longing. “Not that I’m not happy to serve the Republic in whatever capacity is required of me. My daily routine just doesn’t lend itself to any exciting stories. Sorry, ma’am.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry, trooper,” Ahsoka said, gently shaking her head.
“Ma’am?” he asked, confused and maybe a little bit panicked.
“I’m a Jedi,” the words felt like a lie, “I can feel you aren’t happy with your posting.”
CT-3489’s eyes blew wide in a panic. He only just managed to swallow the tea he was in the process of drinking and shakily set the cup behind him on her desk. “Ma’am, I assure you that I wouldn’t-“
“CT-3489, it’s alright. I understand. I can’t say that I currently like my job much, either,” Ahsoka assured with a laugh that tasted bitter on her tongue. “Anyway, you wanted to know about the 501st, right?”
Distracting both herself and the trooper with stories about some of the crazier plans both Anakin and some of her boys in Torrent had come up with was all too easy. It still wasn’t what she should be doing, but it felt right nonetheless.
Especially, when CT-3489 started relaxing around her. It didn’t happen all at once, and Ahsoka doubted the trooper himself was even aware that he was doing it. If he had been, he probably would have snapped right back to stiff attention, and wouldn’t allow himself to calm until the end of his “shift”.
Ahsoka didn’t know if it was the tea, or her attempts to project calm and serenity into the Force the way Master Obi-Wan had taught her. It didn’t matter either way.
CT-3489 still wasn’t chatty, exactly, but Ahsoka could already tell that he was far less stiff and by-the-books than he had first appeared. CT-3489, Ahsoka found, was bright-eyed and curious. He hungered for battle with a ferocity that seemed almost naïve, when she thought about the far less glorious realities of war. About the smells of burning plastoid and flesh that permeated every battlefield mere minutes after the fighting started. About the overfilled med-bays after a major battle. About the silent grief that overloaded the Force in the barracks with so much darkness that it lingered for weeks.
Ahsoka mentioned none of that to her audience. Realities like that had no place in what was supposed to be a lighthearted conversation. Instead she talked about Anakin’s love for throwing his poor captain around with the Force. (Rex would probably kill her for ruining his spotless reputation as a serious, respectable CO once the story spread through the Guard, but that was future Ahsoka’s problem).
“So that isn’t just a story for the cadets?” CT-3489 asked in absolute disbelief.
“What?”
“You Jedi being able to throw stuff around with your mind?”
Ahsoka raised one of her brow-markings. Mustering the clone before her with new eyes. Was the Guard really so separated from the main body of the GAR that they didn’t even have access to information that basic? Didn’t the clones talk about things like that with each other? “No? Have you never interacted with a Jedi, trooper?”
“Can’t say I have, Commander. Not like the Guard has a general.”
Which was true enough. Early in the war there had been talk of stationing a Jedi on Coruscant to serve with the Guard, but those plans had quickly been scrapped as the war grew in proportion and more systems required the assistance of the Jedi. Instead, Fox had been promoted to Marshall Commander and started directly reporting to the Chancellor, placing the Guard completely out of the Jedi’s jurisdiction.
“Sure, but I know how effective the GAR gossip network is. I just assumed you’d at least have found out from your brothers.”
“Well, Commander Thire, Sergeant Rys and Sergeant Jek always talked about General Yoda throwing around whole tanks with his mind when they were on a mission with him early in the war. Back when the Commander was still a Lieutenant. It just seemed so unbelievable… so we just always assumed they were pulling our legs.”
“I mean, whole tanks are a little much for most of us to just throw willy-nilly, but with Master Yoda I’d believe it. Just don’t expect the rest of us to keep up with that type of fire power.”
“Alright…” CT-3489 said, stretching the word to highlight his disbelieve, “So, telekinesis is a thing. Great.”
And they never thought about sending a damn space wizard down with Search and Rescue when there’s a building collapse in the lower levels? That’d make Finicky’s job so much easier.
Ahsoka winced as the stray thought brushed against her consciousness, straight past her mental shields like they didn’t exist. Being able to read thoughts, especially those a sentient felt strongly about wasn’t unusual, but it normally required for her conscious effort. Jedi were taught to prevent what had just happened in the Creche, both because it was a headache to deal with in crowds and because it was a major invasion of privacy.
She felt bad for having become privy to that thought without CT-3489’s knowledge. But she couldn’t deny that his sentiment resonated with her. A Jedi could do so much good with the Guard. The homefront had been neglected and ignored for too long.
“You know, I was wondering. How is the Guard faring without a Jedi? You’re the only Corps of your size without the assistance of the Jedi. That can’t be easy.”
And just like that, CT-3489’s semi-relaxed state disappeared, signified by how sharply his back straightened back up. “We’re also the only Corps of our size that isn’t engaged in active combat,” he pointed out.
“It’s Coruscant. This planet doesn’t need an army of Clankers to be a pain in the ass.”
“And we have a Marshall Commander that’s perfectly capable of dealing with that,” the trooper sighed as he seemed to force himself to stay calm. His panic was still buzzing around them in the Force like a swarm of flame beetles. Volatile and explosive. “We’ve been managing on our own for years, ma’am. Commander Fox knows what he’s doing, he’s got systems worked out that make up for a missing general.”
His words strayed far from what Ahsoka had gathered from his thoughts, and yet he wasn’t lying. He didn’t seem to think that the Guard needed a Jedi, though deep down he was still longing for it. Not that he would admit that out loud.
An idea was forming in her head. A purpose. And the Force seemed to agree with the crazy plan that she was in the process of hatching. It was purring in her ear with silent, impossible approval.
Coruscant needed a Jedi. The Guard needed a general. She needed… something. A new purpose. And Ahsoka didn’t think that she’d ever be able to continue on like nothing had happened. To join back up with the 501st seemed almost more impossible than taking command of her own frontline battalion as a general.
The Guard, though… Perhaps it was just the Force’s vocal expression of its will, but something about helping them on Coruscant felt right. Like that was where she was needed.
There were thousands of Jedi fighting the Separatist forces out there. One more or less would make no difference. But how many were on Coruscant? Keeping the peace in the upper levels and attempting to reduce the suffering in the lower levels? The answer was none. Master Yoda, while he stayed on Coruscant for the most part, hardly ever left the Temple.
So, Ahsoka knew that she could make a difference here. The question was, was she in any shape to do so? Ahsoka didn’t feel like she was the right person for the job. She wouldn’t be able to fully devote herself to the Guard with how fractured she was.
She didn’t even feel like she could be trusted with her own path going forward, nevermind being placed as the head of the Coruscanti Guard. The fact that she was even contemplating the thought in her condition should tell her how unqualified she was for the job.
And yet, the Force seemed to disagree. It was niggling at her, seemingly insistent on pushing her in a direction she didn’t want to go in. Again.
Ahsoka had already followed the Force’s will into a situation she didn’t want any part in, and she’d never been one to quit halfway through something she had started. She had already chosen to remain with the Order because of the Force’s meddling. Why not start helping out with the Guard because of its insistence as well?
If it was the Force’s will, who was she to reject that? She’d do it, though she still doubted that she was making the right decision for herself.
Which shouldn’t matter. As a Jedi, she had been taught to always put the needs of the collective before her individual wishes. If she could help the thousands suffering on Coruscant by denying herself something she wanted for herself, then so be it.
“Ma’am, are you alright?” CT-3489 asked. He had lowered himself to the floor of her room at some point, kneeling directly in front of her as he waved a gauntleted hand before her eyes. There was worry shining in his eyes.
“Commander?” he repeated, sitting back on his haunches when Ahsoka’s gaze focused on him. That position couldn’t be comfortable with his greaves still on.
“I’m fine trooper,” Ahsoka assured him.
“Are you sure? You zoned out for a second there.”
She gently shook her head. “Just lost in thought. It’s been a long day.”
CT-3489 let out a wry laugh. “That we can agree on, ma’am.”
Ahsoka contemplated sharing her, or rather the Force’s, plans with the trooper for a second. She chose against that for two reasons. The first was that a part of CT-3489, well-hidden as it was, was desperate for the help of a Jedi general. Ahsoka didn’t want to get his hopes up, only to destroy them, should the Council decide to dismiss her proposal. Ahsoka wouldn’t put it past them to do that, not anymore. The second reason was more selfish. Ahsoka suspected that the trooper would try to change her mind out of some sense of misguided obligation.
Ahsoka had only met CT3489 a few scant hours ago, but she could already tell that he was the type of person to put what he felt was best for others, especially natborns, before what was best for him and his brothers. That was a common disposition in troopers. The Kaminoans had managed to beat that lack of self-worth even into the most independent of troopers. And CT-3489 definitely wasn’t what Ahsoka would call independent.
He was almost as focused on protocol and regulations as the shinies fresh off Kamino.
No, he’d likely try to talk her out of the decision, citing that the Jedi were needed out in the Outer Rim and that he and his brothers in the Guard would be fine.
So, Ahsoka simply didn’t tell him to avoid conflict. Instead, she launched into another story of the mischief her Torrent boys got up to. CT-3489 eyed her suspiciously for another few seconds, but eventually let the topic drop and settled back into the chair at Ahsoka’s insistence.
At some point she made them another pot of tea, a milder blend that agreed better with her delicate taste buds, that time.
The night passed like that, and by the end of it Ahsoka decided that she liked what little of his personality CT-3489 let blend through during their conversation. He was different from her boys in Torrent, sure. Less rambunctious and more uptight, but Ahsoka quickly got the feeling that that was more a result of circumstance than anything else. A trooper’s personality was molded by his environment. Not formed, Ahsoka found, but twisted into something that would allow him to survive.
Troopers inevitably adapted to the COs they were stationed under and the circumstances they were thrown into. Adapt and survive or die failing to do so.
The 501st, and Torrent especially so, were filled with independent, flexible soldiers. They had seemingly assimilated Anakin’s penchant for improvisation and reckless bravery. Those who thrived in that environment had either already been predisposed to the kind of personality that appealed to Anakin’s idea of strategy or they had twisted themselves into a version of themselves that could survive in Torrent.
CT-3489 reminded her of Echo, in a way.
Echo certainly hadn’t been the type of trooper Ahsoka had expected to fit in with Torrent when she had first met him. Not with how stuck on regulations, how inflexible he had appeared. He’d quickly proven her wrong. Adapted and survived. Twisted himself from someone who’d always follow the rules into someone who knew how and when to bend them. And with his personality, his strategies had changed as well. Going from something he might have learned while playing Dejarik with how by the books they were to some of the most flexible and brilliant tactics Ahsoka had ever seen.
Echo had shaped Torrent as much as Torrent had shaped him, but there was always a bitter-sweetness attached to that statement. The question of what Echo would have been like if he hadn’t needed to twist the very core of his being to fit in with Torrent. Because Echo had fit, but he had never done so effortlessly. He hadn’t been a missing puzzle piece that simply slotted into place like it had always meant to be there. Not like Fives. Instead Echo had chipped away at pieces of himself until they fit into place.
But not even all that work could hide who he had been at his core. No matter what, there had been facets of his character that had always felt slightly amiss with the rest of Torrent. Things that simply didn’t fit with what people expected of her boys. Which hadn’t been a bad thing. Just a reminder of Echo’s strength and adaptability… and a reminder of another thing the war took from her men.
CT-3489 struck her as a trooper that was similar to what Echo had been like, in a sense. Someone that didn’t naturally fit in with the environment the COs on Coruscant had created. At his core, Ahsoka thought, he would have probably thrived in a frontline battalion. There was a need for action within him, a part that would never not be bored with the routine Coruscant provided.
CT-3489 was actively stifling that part of himself to survive on Triple Zero.
Ahsoka could relate, in a way. She’d always struggled with attachments. Had been forced to distance herself from her troops, because the council members had been worried her friendships would lead her towards her Fall. That’s why Ahsoka had pulled back. Kept all her boys at arms-length and grieved connections she never had been allowed to fully form instead of people.
In the end, she’d forsaken all those connection for nothing. The Council still had refused to trust her, even if she’d followed their absurd rules.
Ahsoka silently vowed not to let that happen again. She’d never deny herself connection just to please the Council and their idea of what a Jedi ought to be again. She was imperfect and untrustworthy in their eyes anyway. What did it matter if she refused to pull back from the clones anymore? It wouldn’t make a difference in how the Council Members saw her.
The only indicator of how much time had passed, was the chrono on her wall, which told her it was almost time for her meeting with the Council. Ahsoka didn’t feel ready for what was to come, and yet there was resolve growing in her.
She wasn’t in this for herself. Hadn’t been from the start really (not with how the Force had meddled with her decision). But now, she had a better idea of her purpose. There was something for her to fight for, now. The people of Coruscant. The thousands of Guards that struggled through their days and nights without a Jedi to rely on. Ahsoka always did better when she had someone to protect. She wouldn’t take a “no” from the Council. She couldn’t. Not with how strongly the Force was pushing at her to do this, and do it right.