The halls of the Temple seemed empty and barren.
Anakin walked past the pristine white pillars, the carefully painted walls of white marble. His own footsteps echoed back to him, seemingly loud and harsh in his ears. Every step brought the urge
to physically recoil from the sound.
Step lightly, Anakin. Tread as softly as you can. That's the tipping point between life and death in war.
Isn't that what Obi-Wan told him, a million years ago? Soften your footsteps, avoid being detected, to the point where even you aren't sure if you're even really there. Isn't that how Obi-wan once joked about, stepping so quietly it's like you're meditating while walking?
But the last thing he needed was to lose himself. Everytime he meditated, he felt himself losing his conscious in his own mind, submerged in the memories of...that…
It happened half a standard year ago. Why was he still remembering it like it just happened?
Every time he closed his eyes, instead of becoming one with the force, he saw her. Her receding back, as she stepped down the ivory steps towards a cruel world, without a weapon or target. Not even looking back. Not a single tremor in her step. As strong as he'd taught her to be, hiding her sadness easily from the naked eye.
Not from the Force, though. He's sensed the pain, an emotional stab wound that was almost physical, pulsing with her heartbeat. She wanted to turn back, go back, take back what she said to the Council, to him. Ask to be a Jedi again, to go back to the life she knew. Why didn't she?
Another memory surfaced; he was asking Obi-wan a question: "Why did she leave?"
It was a question that should've come from nine-year olds Anakin's mouth, not his. But Obi-wan answered it as respectfully as if he was answering the Council's inquiry on a mission report. And as unemotional, bland, meaningless, and official as a mission report.
"It was her choice, Anakin. She understood the emotional onslaught turning back would bring, as well as the attacks of the media. Her insight is remarkable for her age; she saw the political issues it would bring if the public saw a convicted Jedi return."
"But she was cleared! Of all charges! That was announced to the public too!"
Obi-wan only smiled sadly, a bitter turn of the lip that held no happiness. "The public is...complex, Anakin. That's partially an unspoken reason why Jedi don't marry. Scandals will surface, accusations are made, support will fall, even farther down than where it is now. People have an interesting mind, and the tend to ignore the truth, even if it stares them in the face, in favor of a lie that benefits their state of mind."
"That's stupid." Was the only reply he could make to it at the time. In his mind, however, thoughts were flying, a whirlwind of stormy thoughts that crackled with fury and hatred. I could change that. I could silence the public, I'm popular enough right? Or, I'll do it by force. I'll protect her from whatever they say, I'll make it safe for her to come back, I'll-
Now, he stared out a window, at the artificial bio-dome of a sky, with it's unnatural pinks and blues receding to black. The lights of the city created a faint glow, visible even in the fading light of the sun. And as they brightened, Anakin thought about his ex-Padawan, somewhere out among those lights, or beyond the bio-dome above his head.
She was fine, he knew. She was strong, and smart. He had no doubt that she was safe somewhere right now, and living peacefully. But he had to wonder, where was she now?
Ahsoka stared through the dark visor of her welding helmet, observing the complex of metal engine parts above, each one coated with a noticeable amount of black, stinking oil.
Ugh. This was going to take all day. She slid out from under the speeder and sat up, stretching her back. The brief expedition in the belly of the racer had led to her blue jumpsuit being splotched with oil in every shade of brown and black, stinking, shiny stains that would take a long time to wash out.
"Aeso! Find the problem?"
The quavery voice belonged to Okar, an old Quarren man who was gracious enough to hire her when no one else would. Maybe it was that he had the heart to know she wasn't a twisted villain, or that he was lonely after his son left for Naboo to be a scientist. She worked with him as a mechanic in his garage, helping scrape together a living in exchange for a roof over her head. The only condition was, she had to wear the welding mask over her face all day, every day, and take the identity of a hideously scarred male Torgruten named Aeso, to keep from discouraging customers.
That was another problem. Ahsoka had had to wear disguises before; in fact, she'd done it often, on missions and whatnot, with a large hood or a heavy jacket. She'd never imagined, however, that she'd have to hide her face every day, but it happened. A hot, heavy slab of metal and vibra-glass over nose, eyes and mouth whenever in presence of, well, just about anyone.
"Yeah, I found the problem." She pulled off her thick mechanics gloves and gestures at the speeder. "It's choked with grease. I wouldn't be surprised if it's gotten into the ignition gearings too."
"Hmh." He wiggles his tentacles in thought. "The customer wants it by sundown tonight. Do you think you can do that?"
"Yeah, yeah. It'll cost some extra though." She groans and pulls on the gloves again, getting on her back to slide under the speeder once more.
In the dark shadow of the vehicle, she had time to think. As she performed the repetitive motions of cleaning, pulling off one part, wiping it down, and repeating, she recollected her time outside of the Order, a practice she used to remind herself how lucky she was to find a place to work and live.
It was rough living as a Jedi-turned-citizen. People avoided her as much as possible, crossing to the other side of the street as she passed by, ducking their heads when they caught sight of her, and even hissing if she looked at one place too long. Not even Tookas wanted to go near her, mewling fearfully and leaping away when she got too close. Jobs were hard enough to come by as it was, and who was going to hire someone who scared everyone away?
The most painful, yet bittersweet memory, however, was that one time. And as much as she tried to ignore it, it was difficult, and snatches of it flashed when she least expected it.
Only a month. One lunar rotation on Coruscant, and already she was struggling to keep her own head on her shoulders.
In hindsight, it was foolish to have tried to start out in the lower grounds, but that's where she went, to find a bounty or something to get started. Except, she should've known better not to stick her noses in places that didn't welcome her.
It was awful rude when she walked into a bar and was immediately chased out by alcohol bottles and gun fire.
The first few days she lived sparingly on the few credits she had in her pocket, sleeping restlessly on rooftops and out-of-reach places to avoid detection. Within a week, however, she had to find a source of income, and quickly.
She turned to scrap-hunting. Scouring the alleyways for old metal scraps and engine parts that she might be able to sell again. It was unforgiving work, paying little for whatever she could bring together. She sold her ware door to door, to droid repair shops, mechanics, and so on. It didn't help that many of her customers cheated her out of already sparse pay, out of need, greed, or simply because they wanted to spite her.
It wasn't long before she gave up.
Living on the meager scrapings she made, was hardly enough to get her a solid roof over her head. A small, dingy apartment was the best she could afford, with a leaky sink and rickety metal sheet of a bed. Whatever she didn't use on rent was used on food, but what she could get was thin and unsubstantial. And it showed, her clothes hanging pathetically off of her increasingly skinny frame as she struggled to hide her weakness under heavy cloaks.
It couldn't last forever. She knew that. And when she collapsed in a back alleyway from exhaustion one day, she wondered if her eyes would be closing for the last time.
There was a girl. A human one, looking a little like Padme with her brown hair and large eyes. A little like Steela, with dark skin and a determined set to her mouth. Standing silhouetted by golden light in a doorway in front of her, staring down without the slightest hint of surprise. Like she knew all along.
Her hand extends, except is it really a hand? It is, but its digits are cold metal and its nails are chrome, the palm is a burnished copper that gleams like fire and gold. Light danced hypnotically across the surface, holding Ahsoka's attention like a curious toy holds a child's.
The shining fingers suddenly gestured impatiently, causing Ahsoka to blink and twitch at the surprising movement. The girl is frowning, looking annoyed, like trying to get an old friend to hurry up."Well? You coming or not?" She snaps, hand still extended.
The memory faded away into darkness, leaving Ahsoka staring up at the engine cavity, with numerous metal tubes and wiring strewn around her, each one relatively free of oily sludge.
Well, at least it's all clean now… She huffs under the mask, successfully fogging her visor and making it all the more difficult to see. Picking up one of the pieces and pulling a spiral-shaped tool from her pocket, she starts attaching it in place, while Okar hobbled around dealing with another customer's speeder.
"Aeso, almost done?"
"Uh…" She looks at the gaping hole where the engine should be, and was not, and was instead scattered around her in many pieces. "Yeah."
"Good, the customer gave me a heads up. He's coming in a few minutes."
"Shoot!" Hurriedly fixing the tube on, she grabs the next sections and pulls out a small blowtorch, feeling the heat through the mask as she welds it in place. "Um, how many minutes, exactly?"
"Oh, I'm not sure. Any minute now. I think that's him outside right now."
Fantastic. Wonderful. Way to go Snips. She groans inwardly, pulling off her gloves. It was time to use a trick that she didn't like to use, but was handy for situations like this.
Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and drowns herself in her own consciousness. Feels the Force running throughout the garage, touching every last screw and misplaced tool, the parts around her, Okar moving about. She extends her mind towards the inanimate wires and tubes around her, the tools in her pockets, the engine cavity above that she needed to fill, and focused her mind to a knife-sharp point of concentration.
There was that familiar feeling of warmth flushing through her veins, the almost painful needle-point clarity of all her surroundings, and the Force. Just the Force, helping her, guiding the pieces under her command. She willed the waves to move, carrying the segments to where they were supposed to go, tools floating around to fix them in place. Wires bent and fused to metal, tubes slotted themselves into their spaces, screws twirled and squeaked into their holes. Everything as it should be.
It wasn't an easy trick. She'd only mastered it a few weeks ago, practicing at night on old engines and speeders that never did get fixed. She had meant for it to help Okar, but he refused to let her use it after she showed it to him, saying that it'd attract attention if she was caught. In reality, she suspected that the trick had spooked him a little.
"Aeso!"
Not a second too soon, the last wire twisted itself into place, and the tools clattered lifelessly to the ground. Ahsoka's eyes snapped open, and she takes one last good look at the set up, before pulling herself out from under the speeder to stretch and groan.
"Aeso! The customer is here? Did you finish?"
"Yeah, yeah. S'right here." She gestures toward the speeder, battered, dented, the red flame paint job long since faded beneath the film of filth.
The owner of the speeder (though Ahsoka thought it was just a piece of junk when it first arrived), was a gruff Twi-lek. As he approached, Ahsoka could've sworn she caught a glimpse of disappointment, but it's gone before she could double-check herself.
"Well, how'd ya do on meh speeder, eh? If it doesn't work, I'm suein' ya both." He huffs, a voice so rough Ahsoka had a hard time deciphering it.
"No, no, Ahs- Aeso, is my best mechanic. He can fix anything. Right, Aeso?" Okar wheezed, looking pointedly at Ahsoka.
She just nods in agreement, to avoid the trouble of changing her voice. A brief moment of silence paused, during which she wondered why the stranger was staring at her, until she realized: Oh yeah, he wants his key back.
Fumbling slightly, she digs around in the endless pits that were pockets in her mechanic's suit, before coming up with a small, slightly misshapen ignition key, attached to a keychain with a rubbery tab shaped like a Tooka face. Swallowing a question about the...design choice, she offers the key to the customer, hand outstretched.
He grunts and takes it, and climbs into the seat of the speeder. After a heart-stopping moment, during which Ahsoka wondered if there was some place she misplaced a tube, didn't attach a wire, didn't clean a gear properly, when there was suddenly the healthy purr of a fixed engine. She sighed in relief, allowing her shoulders to sag from the released tension.
The Twi-lek's face splits into a toothy grin, revealing yellow triangular teeth. "Ah, good job! How much do I owe ya?"
Okar seemed to deflate a little bit out of relief as well, a smile forming beneath his twitching tentacles. "Well, considering that you wanted to speeder to be fixed within a day, and that you inexplicably got grease in every possible section of the engine-right Aeso?" He aims a pointed look at Ahsoka, at which she nodded tiredly in agreement. At this point, the most she wanted to do was get a meal and go to sleep.
"Hey, that was because of a couple pranksters in my area, not my fault. And I think… nine hundred credits is a fair deal."
"Nine hundred? I was thinking fifteen hundred for the trouble you've caused us."
"Fifteen hundred, that's insane! Whatcha gonna do with the extra six hundred? I could buy a new vehicle with that money!"
"Not in this day and age, you can't. Not with all the bills going through the senate." At this, the Twi-lek smiled grimly and nodded in bitter agreement, and there was a pause as both of them contemplated the difficulties of what lay ahead, with all the laws coming through, digging themselves into their personal lives.
Ahsoka was only too painfully aware of what was happening. When looking for a housing complex that would take her, she found that the ones that would take her, couldn't, because of the recent Public Protection Decree 134: Any citizen or being with a criminal record on their file, be it stealing a speeder or forgetting to return a borrowed toy at standard age three, as long as it was reported to the officials, it would be put on record. Any recording of criminal record meant it was illegal to live in a housing area within a three sector radius of a public area. And considering how most of Coruscant was public space, it was rather difficult for anyone to live anywhere.
"Aye, it's like they're trying to rip away whatever freedom we have left and cover it up with promises of safety." Said the Twi-lek, before smiling cruelly. "So how about it? I can compromise with a thousand one-fifty."
"A thousand one-seventy five, and you have a deal." The two shook on it, and the customer drove away out of the garage.
The moment the growl of the speeder faded away, she took the moment to pull off the heavy mask, to relish the cool air on her face. But the moment barely lasted, when another speeder pulled in, even more filthy and trashy then the last. Ahsoka barely had time to flip the slab of metal back on before the new customer stepped out, a towering, rust-colored Trandoshan whose head almost brushed the ceiling.
Her stomach twisted unpleasantly as she had to tilt her face upward to stare at the newcomer. After being kidnapped and used as sport on Felucia, she hadn't exactly been fond of the alien species, even when she tried her best not to hold it against all of them. Still; every time she looked at a scaly face or clawed hands, she saw a pale, dirt-smudged face, framed by short, brown hair singed by blaster-fire.
She forced the memory away as she dragged herself back into reality. Later, she'd meditate and pay her respects, but for now she had no quarrel with this Trandoshan, as big and ugly as he might be.
"Welcome, welcome." Wheezed Okar, shuffling forward. "What's the problem?"
The being didn't reply, simply looking around the room with distaste. He lands his gaze on her, and for a moment she thought she saw recognition, or something, flitting over those slit-pupiled eyes. But it's gone just as quickly, before she could be sure.
"Right, right. Here-" He kicks the speeder, causing it to shudder and dip a few centimeters down before shakily reverting to its original height. "It's slow. I need ya to make it faster, before tonight." He hisses, punctuating his sentences with clicks at random intervals.
Okar took his time looking over the speeder, examining everything from the cracked leather seats to the dented, rust-covered hood. After a few practiced minutes: "I don't see the problem."
"What?"
"Other then the, er, appearance." Okar gestured towards the speeder, and Ahsoka silently agreed. While colors and patterns were never anything of particular interest to her, the ugly clashing of badly painted orange flames and brown mud stains wasn't particularly appealing. Not to mention, the overall smell. Like cheap alcohol and smoke.
The Trandoshan didn't seem to hear the comment on his design taste. "I know it's not broken. But I need you to make it faster. And by tonight."
"Uh, what? Why?"
He rolled his eyes, showing yellow webbed with bluish veins. "Race tonight. Grand prize is twenty thousand credits. You'd have to be an idiot to miss on that."
"Street racing is illegal." was Okar's only remark. Okar had a surprising tolerance for such actions, as long as his customers didn't link him to their deeds. In times like this, he needed as much money as he could get, regardless of the source.
"What's yer point?"
"Nothing. How much would you be willing to pay for an upgraded engine exhaust system? It'd clear the filth out quicker and go faster, as you wanted. For a speedy completion, it'd be twelve hundred."
"Twelve hundred, eh?" He scratched the scales on his skin, producing a rather irritation skrtch skrtch sound. "Guarantee me a win and you have a deal, old man."
"Alright. Aeso can have it for you by sundown. Is that alright, mister, er...?" At the sound of 'his' name, Aeso stepped forward, hand extended for the ignition key. The Trandoshan took one more long, curious look at her. And while she was sure she was disguised adequately, she still felt uncomfortable.
"Tooth's the name. Say, why's that kid got a mask on? He's been wearing it the whole time."
The question was so sudden she didn't know how to react, just froze and held her breath as she matched his gaze through the darkened visor.
"Ah. Well…" Okar shifted awkwardly. "Aeso here's got a bad scar on his face. Got it from a Wookie fistfight a while back. Not the smartest choice on his part, of course but...can't change the past, can ya?"
"Hmm. What's with his hands then? Awful skinny for a boy like him."
Ahsoka cursed inwardly. Her hands, slender and long fingered, are the last things you'd expect on a mechanic. It was stupid of her to take them off, but right now she couldn't do anything. Just froze in quiet regret and hoped some miracle would gloss this over, and quickly.
In the end, it was Okar who saved her. After an awkward moment of quiet passed, he suddenly stepped forward, partially putting himself between Tooth and Ahsoka.
"Listen, do you want the modification by tonight, or no? If you waste any more time, you'll be losing the race altogether." He snapped, tentacles cracking whiplike as he spoke, a not-so-subtle sign of his waning temper.
Tooth nodded reluctantly, and made a motion as to hand the key over. Ahsoka turned her hand, palm up, expecting the key.
Suddenly, the hand flicked lightening fast at her face, so fast she could barely react when it grabbed her mask and tried to wrench it away, claws scraping the metal on both sides. She'd reacted just in time and reached up with both hands, pressing the metal against her face, feeling the surface of the metal grow wet against her face from her hyperventilating breath. Her visor was almost completely fogged, so she could hardly make out shapes or colors. Tooth was pulling with enough force to pull her forward a step, one of his hands biting painfully into her shoulder as he tried to pull the mask away. After a brief second of grappling, the hand released and Tooth backed off, face contorted into what might have been contemplation, or disappointment.
"Sorry 'bout that… I'll go somewhere else." He growled, stepping into the speeder and driving off. Before long, there's nothing but a dust cloud lingering in the distance.
There's silence. Nothing but the distant rumble of pedestrians and vehicles, a white noise to Coruscant citizens. After a moment, Okar breaks it, placing a rubbery hand on her shoulder in somewhat-awkward condolence.
"Ahsoka. Take the rest of the day off, okay? You need a break. I'll call you down for dinner." And with that, he moves away, to tend to the other projects around the garage.
Ahsoka trudged upstairs, feeling defeat. It didn't take long to free herself from the blue jumpsuit and clean herself up, but she didn't change into her pajamas immediately, as she would usually do. Instead, she found her old outfit from the Jedi Temple, sitting innocently at the bottom of a messy pile of clothes.
Bad idea. Bad idea. Good idea? Bad idea.
She puts it on. She smiles, touching the front of the tunic and smoothing out a few stubborn wrinkles. It felt like sparring with Anakin on the Temple grounds, when she make a particularly good move and he was smiling as he whirled his lightsaber. It felt like playing holo-chess with Obi-Wan, when she found herself stuck in another clever pit trap and he was making not-so-subtle hints as to what to do next. It felt like meditating with Plo-Koon on a long mission, when the pent-up energy was turning into anxiety and he noticed, sitting down cross-legged next to her and motioning for her to do the same. It felt like jumping with her, leaping over the buildings of Coruscant, watching how the artificial light catch and dance on her hand as she leapt and dodged and weaved around the obstacles, with the gracefulness and fluidity of a Naboo swamp eel. It felt like, it felt like;
Home.
And right now, that was what she needed. Something of home, again. Wearing the outfit was nice and all, but it needed something to make it feel right, again. A rare breeze blew against the window, rattling quietly. A soft beckoning towards the outside.
Didn't Tooth mention a race tonight, somewhere? And while she couldn't race in it, she could sure watch, couldn't she? She remembered how once, Anakin dragged her to a pod race, telling her about how he used to race like that, how all he wanted to do when he was younger was race the pods that he built and free other slaves. At first, it was a bit dull, but Anakin's ecstasy of watching it was contagious, and she found herself inevitably hooked on it.
Bad idea. Bad idea. You need to stop. Why do you do this?
Let's go.
"Why isn't she answering?"
Okar grumbled, annoyed. He stumped into the hall and tapped on the door, expecting a "I'm coming" or "Give me a bit". Instead, he was met with a curious silence.
The door opened, and he peeked in. There was the room, as messy as always, despite his constant reminders to clean it. A small picture of his son, Oster, hung by the window, now open for some reason. There was a message typed out on her holo-pad, sitting on the bed.
Out for a bit. Be back before midnight, don't worry.
~Ahsoka.
That child… But a grin tugged at his mouth, as he reread the brief message. She really was just like Oster, wherever he was. He went to sleep, mind at peace. He had no concern for Ahsoka.
After all, he was sure that she could take care of herself.