A/N: Tell you what, I cried over this a little bit. And I listened to "Hell Hath No Fury" from the "Wonder Woman" soundtrack on loop while I wrote it. Feels. Pretty sure this is a hot mess, but here it is. Fictober Challenge Day 10: Dream.
Snips and Skyguy: The Last Time
Ahsoka knew that tomorrow she was going to die. She didn't fear it. She didn't want to fight it. She knew that he would be there, but she didn't dread it. Not really. It was supposed to be this way, she thought. He had trained her, had unknowingly molded her into the person she was. It was right for him to be the one to finish her; poetic, somehow. Anakin had promised her one more sparring session, after all. Who had won their last? She couldn't remember.
Ahsoka's evening was normal. She ate dinner on the Ghost with the crew, and she took a long walk with Rex. They talked about everything and nothing, remembering old friends, and dancing around their final goodbye. She praised Sabine's newest artwork and showed Ezra the power cells in her lightsabers. She helped Hera check and re-check the Phantom, preparing it for tomorrow's voyage. And then, for the very last time, Ahsoka went to bed. The war had taught her to rest when you can, where you can, no matter what. So she went straight to sleep, and the Force was waiting for her there.
It had to be the Force; her conscious mind would not have allowed this.
She's on Christophsis. It's fitting; that was the place she first met him. He looks exactly as she remembered: young, strong, full of fire and conviction. There's a young girl beside him, someone Ahsoka doesn't recognize anymore, not even in the mirror.
But there they are: Anakin and Ahsoka. Tano and Skywalker. Snips and Skyguy.
The sight of them is almost too much.
They're engrossed in their own conversation and Ahsoka watches with a heavy heart. Knowing what she does now, would she still have been so eager when Master Yoda sent her to be Anakin's apprentice?
"Don't tell them," a voice advises wryly from behind her. "If they knew how it all turned out, they might do something stupid. Try to save the galaxy, get themselves killed."
Ahsoka knows that voice, but she's not ready to turn around and look at him. "They did that anyway," she murmurs. "They're gone now."
"Yeah." He sighs, and Ahsoka doesn't have to be looking at him to know an irreverent grin is on his face the next second. "But we had fun first, didn't we, Snips?"
Her breath hitches; no one has called her that in over fifteen years. "Yeah," she manages to whisper. "We had fun."
She turns slowly then, afraid that it'll really be him. Afraid that it won't. Her face falls when she seems him because he just looks so like himself, like nothing ever happened. A sob catches in her throat and she throws her arms around his neck in an impulsive hug, holding on to him in desperation. It's exactly the way he hugged her all those years ago, after she was redeemed from the clutches of death on Mortis.
They hold tight to each other for just a moment, because they both known that no one will be redeemed from the clutches of death today.
Ahsoka is the first to step back, swiping errant tears from her cheeks. They're not tears of sorrow, but of something much more profound. "I spent—I used to lie awake at night—after it—after everything—" She stops, taking a breath to steady herself. "We saw each other just days before it all came crashing down, Anakin. Do you remember that?"
He nods. "You were on your way to Mandalore. Obi-Wan and I were on our way to go save the Chancellor."
Ahsoka wraps her arms around herself and starts to pace. "I thought of that a thousand times—what I would have said if I'd known it was the last time—what I could have done—"
"There's nothing you could have done." Anakin's voice holds a firm edge that would have stopped Ahsoka in her tracks at fifteen, but she's thirty now, and she can stand toe-to-toe with him; he taught her how.
"I could have stayed! I could have helped you!" Her eyes are blazing and his are sad.
"I was already beyond help, Snips," he says quietly. "The trap was already laid. I just didn't know it."
Tears begin to spill again. "I—I abandoned you when you needed me the most," she whispers. "Master, I—"
"Don't you dare apologize, Ahsoka." He steps toward her, catching her elbow to make her stop and look at him. "You have always been exactly where you were supposed to be. And I—I could not be prouder."
She nods, tears coursing freely. There's a long, heavy silence. Then she sees the lightsaber on his belt and she laughs half-heartedly. "I'm impressed you managed to keep up with it for so long."
He grins and calls it to his hand, igniting the blade in the space between them.
It's blood red and Ahsoka steps back with a gasp. She'd almost forgotten.
"Vader," she chokes.
Anakin stares at the thrumming blade, startled himself by what he sees. Then his eyes snap to hers. "Don't give up on me, Snips. Please."
She blinks rapidly, and she makes a promise. "Never."
Ahsoka woke at dawn, a strange serenity coursing through her veins. She'd dreamt of Anakin often, but this had been different. Whatever remained of him, whatever remained of their connection to each other had resurged long enough for their minds to twine together in the middle of the night.
It made sense; they always had worked well under pressure.
They still did.
As they fought on Malachor, they were two parts of the same machine. It was a graceful, deadly choreograph of swings, thrusts, and parries. His frustration and her determination grew with every block, every inch of ground given.
Anakin Skywalker was weak. I destroyed him.
Then I will avenge his death.
It was as simple as that and Ahsoka never wavered until she saw his face, half-unmasked by her own blade. She heard her name from his lips, and the weight of it told her it had been forbidden for a long time. For the shortest second, Vader was gone. Don't give up on me, Snips. "Anakin." She knew he wouldn't relent, she knew it was about to end. "I won't leave you! Not this time."
And she didn't.
