In the back of her mind she hears him yelling, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins is drowning out most of his voice. Ahsoka is pretty sure that he's telling her not to do it, not to jump, and that's just foolish –hasn't this day, and almost all of the ones come before it proven that she does what she wants to, and only that?
In all technicalities, that isn't the best Jedi philosophy, or even in the top ten best wisdoms outside of the Order. Still, she's not the best Padawan, though she's tried so very, very hard to be it.
She is frozen in place, even though every part of her, save her muscles, are screaming "jump jump jump." Willing herself to move and breaking through the ice coating her body she faces her Master, faces the clones.
"What are you doing? We have to leave!" It's a stupid question, of course, and she wonders if he really doesn't know or he is just denying it for the sake of his sanity.
No, that isn't right –for the sake of hope. He is her world and she adores him, wouldn't give him up for all the power in the galaxy, but she's just a kid, a tagalong to him. He appreciates her in his own, perhaps brotherly, way, but he'll never care about her as much as she does him.
"I'm sorry. I-" What? Was there anything else to say? It didn't matter if it was heretical of the Jedi Order; she loved him. She loved him, and on some days she wanted to just stand atop the tallest spire of the Temple and scream it out, let the Coruscanti winds carry her voice to the ears of every Master, and to the ears of that one Senator –her friend, but so naive; on her political battlefield she was brilliant, but for her life she couldn't keep the secret of their marriage. A gallant try, perhaps –she had never spoken about him, never once mentioned his name, and maybe that was the most obvious clue, that blatant disinterest.
(And if that one didn't win for the clearest sign, than certainly their soft caresses did, or perhaps the burning desire she witnessed in Anakin's eyes each time after they've seen her.)
But he doesn't need to know that, how obvious they are. She's loyal to him, even in the end, and it is her duty to turn a blind eye. And he also doesn't need to know that she fell into the same craters that he did, made the identical mistake of falling in love. "I'm sorry."
She jumps from the platform of the ship to the hard, durasteel ground and dashes over to where Cad Bane lies; though he's scrambling up now, confident he will leave, with the holocron in hand.
"Ahsoka! What in the seven hells-" she hears more cursing but tunes out the voice she used to yearn to hear. Another one infiltrates the fuzzy, buzzing shield surrounding her, a clone's. He's saying that they have to leave; there's no time to go back; they're taking off already and I'm sorry but it's too late-
None of it matters, though. The most important thing is in the way she tackles the Duros bounty hunter, watched the beautifully designed holocron fly from his hand, the gentle blue lights it emitted a second ago burning out. "We die together, Bane."
He says something in his native language, a swear, probably, but she's holding on tight and there's nothing he or any of the other villains he entered with can do. "I said, we die together."
And they will die, a fate she hears before she sees, fire roaring closer and closer, and the horrifying crack of durasteel splitting apart.
(It isn't long before she does feel it, though, and it only hurts for a second, and she's glad for that, even if a Jedi is supposed to be above pain. Midnight comes quickly, her vision fading to black, and for Ahsoka Tano, this is the way the world ends.)
First -and probably last- venture at trying to write this pairing, even only a one-sided version. Feedback very much appreciated! Also, final line very much based on T.S. Elliot's poem "The Hollow Men."