"Alderaanian." The word slipped from Anakin's mouth as they approached the ship, more of a muttered observation than anything else. Ahsoka wondered if he'd meant to say it out loud. He loomed beside her, even hunched in on himself, arms shoved into the sleeves of his saber-singed robe with a familiar sullenness that tugged at her heart, tightened the twist in her stomach.

"Yes," she confirmed softly, transmitting the clearance codes that would permit them to dock with the Tantive IV with a hint of trepidation, a cold knot of reluctant suspicion lodging at the base of her spine. She was taking a risk, coming here. The command structure of the rebellion, still barely out of its infancy, was a closely guarded secret for a reason. Kanan and Ezra shouldn't have been here, she herself shouldn't have come within a hair's breadth of the Tantive without any prior notice, even though she kept careful track of its whereabouts. She was breaking at least fifteen different sets of protocol just by showing up unannounced.

That was in addition to the protocols she'd already broken before they'd even left Atollon. Bail Organa wasn't going to be very happy with her, even before she reintroduced him to her guest. And the risk – it always came back to risk, how much was worth it to achieve their goal, how much they could sacrifice, how much they could get away with. How much was acceptable in pursuit of their goal. In pursuit of their personal agenda. Ahsoka swallowed harshly as the codes were accepted, as she guided the Phantom towards the ship's forward airlocks.

She'd bristled at Kanan's accusation before, but only because it held a measure of the truth. She wasn't – she wasn't doing anything wrong. Saving her master would save the galaxy, or at least twist it back into some recognizable shape. She held no illusions that the fate of the galaxy hinged absolutely on Anakin Skywalker, but it certainly seemed to pivot somehow. He was the Chosen One, after all. If he made a better choice, a different choice, then who could say that Palpatine's machinations wouldn't be successful, that the galaxy wouldn't be saved?

He didn't have to die.

She was certain of that much, even as every ounce of common sense she had was screaming at her in disagreement, even as her trusted friends told her the same. Bail might too, for that matter, but he wasn't a Jedi. He didn't understand the Sith the way the rest of them did, understand the dark side's undertow, the way its claws sank in and never let go. That was why she hadn't taken them to the temple on Lothal, why she'd kept them from Yoda's grasp, though she ached for his wisdom, for some authority to tell her what to do. She already knew what he'd have to say. Through the eyes of a Jedi, her master was already a lost cause. Something to pity and fear and then put down out of mercy.

But to Bail Organa, he would just be a man. A bit lost, too close to the edge of monster, monster, but still someone that could be saved. He would be able to fill in the gaps that she couldn't without insisting that her only recourse was to murder what was, for all intents and purposes, her family.

The Jedi might have understood family, in the way that all masters and padawans did, in the way that all groups of younglings raised together did, but never like Anakin Skywalker did. Not like she did.

Not like a man like Bail Organa did.

"Ahsoka," Kanan said, face still darkened in disagreement, stumbling slightly as the Phantom docked with the larger ship. He paused, mouth open as if about to speak. She braced herself grimly for another round of repressed, tense discussion, the likes of which she hadn't seen or participated in since the days she'd used to wander the Temple halls with Obi-Wan Kenobi. The taut, polite disagreements she'd occasionally been witness too, an increasing number as the war dragged on, had always disturbed her far more than the ridiculous, one-sided shouting matches her master and Obi-Wan had so frequently engaged in.

But his shoulders fell, breath escaping him in a resigned huff instead. She relaxed. Marginally.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she said, more certainly than she felt. What other option did they have? Her master wasn't the only one who wanted answers. She stood from the pilot's console, grasping his shoulder briefly. "Stay here with Ezra. I'm sorry I can't bring you aboard, but I'm already breaking more rules than I can count. The less you know about the rebellion's complete structure, the safer it will be."

He nodded, lips thinning.

"Don't go digging," she said, pinning Ezra with a dry look. "Stay in the Phantom and don't talk to anyone."

She turned to leave, Anakin a shadow at her heel, ignoring the sullen 'yes, Mom' that Ezra muttered under his breath, and the ensuing muffled snort from the soon-to-be Sith Lord at her back. She had her work cut out for her, clearly.

"Ahsoka," Anakin said, as they exited the Phantom, distanced themselves from the earshot of their companions. "I don't blame them for being confused. Why have you brought me to an Alderaanian consular ship?"

"I told you I knew someone who might be able to fill in the blanks," she said, settling outside the airlock doors with her hands behind her back, waiting. The white walls of the Tantive were soothing, the architectural lines crisp and smooth. She didn't mind grunge, but it was nice, sometimes, to be reminded that some parts of the galaxy weren't singed with blaster fire and soot and weeks' worth of dust. "Bail Organa was there when the Republic fell. He tried to go to the Temple, but was turned away." She paused. "He's instrumental to the rebellion. He – he recruited me, I suppose. We've worked together for years now." Footsteps echoed down the corridor. "But he's never told me the whole story."

"You didn't insist?" She could feel his incredulity. Her lips twisted dryly, though the lump of suspicion at her back made it difficult.

"I owe him a lot. It's hard to talk about. Besides, some of us actually respect other people's boundaries."

He sputtered briefly, interrupted as the owner of the echoing footsteps finally approached, a lithe figure, small, clothed in white. Dark hair that shone in the harsh glare of the light panels. Anakin started, breath catching in his throat. She understood. The resemblance was uncanny, even though –

Well. She'd long ago discarded the possibility herself.

"Aunt Ahsoka!" Leia Organa threw herself into Ahsoka's arms, no longer a spitfire of a child, but a graceful young adult. So Bail was taking her along with him, now. That was news to her. "Commander Antilles told me you were here."

"And you thought you'd beat your father to us?" Ahsoka asked, teasing, a smile curving her lips. She held the younger girl out at arms length, examining her, the shine of her intricately braided hair, the newfound maturity in her youthful face. "You've grown."

"So have you," Leia said, gazing up at Ahsoka's montrals, marvelling. "I've thought for all these years that I was imagining how much taller you were than me."

"Believe it or not, there was a time when I was exactly the same height as you," she replied, laughing internally at the ensuing scowl of skepticism, so oddly familiar. "Isn't that right, Skyguy?"

She had to elbow him in the ribs to get him to reply, expected a bubble of laughter to escape from her niece in all but name as he stuttered out a belated response, but an odd silence had fallen over them. For a moment, Ahsoka felt almost out of place, as their eyes met and the world stilled. Like she was somehow intruding.

"Leia, this is my master, Anakin Skywalker," she said, interrupting the odd moment. "Anakin, this is Princess Leia Organa. Bail's daughter."

"How do you do," Leia said politely, curtsying without thought, ever the daughter of a diplomat. But her eyes, all of a sudden dark and somehow fathomless, didn't leave her old master's face. He nodded in reply, pained. Ahsoka had the sense that it was the only response he could manage. Frustrated but not surprised in the least by his behaviour, she bit her tongue and resisted the urge to elbow him once more in the ribs. At least he wasn't the only one being strange this time, though for Leia's reaction there was no obvious explanation. It was possible she was only picking up on the twisted sense of him in the Force.

"Does your father know we're here?"

Blinking, whatever connection they'd had snapped, Leia turned her gaze once more on Ahsoka. The heaviness was gone from it. She looked barely shaken.

"He's in a conference," she said. "I'll send someone to fetch him, but I thought I'd better take my chance to see you where I could. Everything's always such a secret around here."

"That's just the way it has to be," Ahsoka said quietly, embracing the girl one last time. "Will you tell him we're here? Myself and an old friend."

"Of course," she said, smiling, though her eyes were drawn again to Anakin's, flitting away before they could truly meet again. "It might be a few minutes. I'll leave you in good company."

"Good company?" That grin didn't belong on the face of any respectable diplomat.

"He'll be along shortly. It was good to see you, Aunt Ahsoka."

"You too," she said, wistfulness curdling on her tongue. The past was always too far away. "Take care, Princess. Remember what I taught you." She'd need it, in the years ahead. The Force was telling her that much.

"Of course." The smile faded, the line of her mouth turning serious. There wasn't much room for gentleness, on that young, unblemished face. It made Ahsoka's heart ache, but it gave her reassurance. The daughter of the Organa's had a good head on her shoulders. The Force wove around her, though Ahsoka had long ago taught her not to touch it if she could help it, at Bail's own request. To reject the Force and not to love it, though she hadn't used those terms, forbidden and dangerous in the aftermath of the Purge. For her own safety, though it had felt like a violation, a sour rejection of everything she'd ever been taught. Leia was stubborn, determined. She would survive. "May the Force be with you."

The phrase almost carried more weight to it now than it had in the days of the Jedi. More pain, more meaning. More hope.

"And with you," Ahsoka answered quietly as the princess turned and left.

"Padmé told me the Organas were never able to conceive," Anakin said hoarsely in the stillness left behind.

"They adopted," Ahsoka said. "Not long after the Republic fell. Lots of children lost their parents. I always thought it was kind of them."

"She's strong in the Force. But she doesn't know it."

"That's a dangerous thing to be, in this galaxy." Ahsoka hung her head, ashamed though she knew everything she'd done – been asked to do – had been out of concern for the princess' safety. "I taught her to hide it when she was a child. Just – just vaguely. We spoke of it like it was about mindfulness, about meditation. She was an angry child."

"Angry? Her?" Anakin stepped closer to her, robes rustling against the floor, pale face quietly amused. He peered down the corridor as a small, trundling shape rounded the corner.

Ahsoka smiled, a bit grimly. "She always had very big ideas about right and wrong. About what people deserved. Not unlike someone I know, in fact." Her eyes narrowed. Good company. "Is that – ?"

"Artoo!" Anakin said delightedly, happier than she'd heard him in, well – decades. "Artoo, buddy, you're still alive – "

Never mind that droids weren't really alive in the first place. Though her master had always treated droids (even the ones with less sentience than Artoo and Threepio) with the same respect he'd treat a person. The small droid increased the speed at which he was trundling over towards them at the sound, beeping at first confusedly, and then with a determined shrillness that almost sounded like – reproach? She watched Anakin's face fall – he'd always understood binary better than most people she knew, too.

"Oh, not you too," he muttered quietly, eyes squeezing shut in resignation as Artoo put on a final, deliberate burst of speed and rammed straight into him with an electronic shriek of rebuke, causing his knees to buckle. The droid backed up, still quaking and shaking and beeping harshly, and ran over his feet before he could attempt to get away.

"Okay, okay!" Her master forced out, hunched over, hands up, eyes watering in pain. "I know, buddy. I know. I'm sorry."

The shrieking wail petered off into a series of quieter, sadder-sounding moans.

Her master placed a hand gingerly on the small droid's domed head.

"I missed you too," he said. "I'm glad you're here."

The answering beeps (less reproachful than the droid's initial stream of binary) were drowned out by the sound of approaching footsteps. Ahsoka glanced up to meet the ever more solemn face of Bail Organa. He looked more tired, more grizzled, every time she saw him.

"Fulcrum," he greeted, smile warming even as his eyes remained tight with stress. "This is somewhat unexpected. And – Leia said you'd brought an old friend?"

"Senator," she said, as warmly as she could manage. It was true that friendly faces were hard to come by in the galaxy at large, even if the prickling suspicion crawling up the back of her neck that this particular face hadn't been entirely truthful with her had returned in full force. "And, uh. Something like that. My apologies for the breach of protocol, however – " Anakin stepped forward slightly, hesitantly, cloaked in wariness. Artoo chirruped happily, at odds with the sudden shift in the air as Bail's face darkened, eyes widening in shock. "I can explain," she told him. "I know this seems impossible, but – "

His face wasn't in her field of vision, but she still felt the wash of resigned indignation through the Force, heard the grunt that escaped his lips as her old master was slammed against the ship's wall, head clanging into the outer part of the airlock, the metal ringing with the impact.

" – we need your help," she finished dryly, turning to see the senator's fists, a politician's hands, smooth and uncalloused, knuckles white, wound in Anakin's robe, expression furious. Helpless.

"You," he choked out, eyes glistening, the rest of the words trapped in the back of his mouth. "You – "

"I know," Anakin said, resigned, guilt broiling briefly across their bond. His eyes met Ahsoka's over the senator's shoulder. Help, he mouthed surreptitiously, though he wasn't fighting back, fists clenched at his sides, staying as limp as possible as Bail kept him pinned to the wall, despite the fact that he could have overpowered the slighter man without blinking. He was listening to her after all.

Ahsoka shrugged back at him, unwilling to intervene. The senator was shaking with anger. She'd never seen him like this. The hurt in his eyes was personal, and it confirmed the cool suspicion she had formed on their way here. A dull, resigned anger burned tiredly in her gut. They'd known each other for years, now, and he'd kept Darth Vader's face from her the entire time.

She was sympathetic, of course – Bail had been close to Padmé, close to a lot of the senators that had resisted the rise of the Empire and paid the price for it. He'd paid the price for it as well. He was paying it now, and would continue to pay for it in the future. She held no illusions that she was privy to even a fraction of the secrets he was hiding, likely for her own good. For the good of the people he loved. The good of what was left of the Republic. But this was different. It was personal, it was important, and she had been working with him for years and he wasn't the only one who had lost everything and it was Jedi business and her master and hadn't she deserved to know – ?

The light panel above them shattered, synth-glass raining down on their heads, bouncing sharply off her montrals. Bail's fists loosened their grip on Anakin's robe and he turned to face her, jaw tight, the past seething behind his eyes.

"You've been keeping things from me, Bail," she said, placidly. Her heart pounded at the base of her skull.

"Ahsoka," Anakin said warily, sounding almost – worried, as he peeled himself off the wall, jammed his hands back into the sleeves of his robe, shaking the glass from his hair. She glanced at him sharply, the 'shut up' implicit in the turn of her mouth.

Bail swallowed. His eyes flicked briefly to Anakin, a looming shadow once more.

"Come have tea," he said, meeting her eyes, tone as deceptively calm as hers had been. It wasn't a request. "It seems we have a few issues that could use discussing."

Coruscant's – no. Imperial Centre's star burned at her mockingly through the giant observation window before her, the firm synth-leather of her seat cool at her back. Anakin's hands trembled around a steaming cup of tea in her peripheral vision. Bail sat on the sofa across from them, his own tea untouched on a side table.

"You understand that this is – hard for me to believe," he told her, pointedly refusing to look at Anakin. "I've never heard of anything like this happening, there's no scientific precedence – "

"The Force doesn't need scientific precedence," she said, swallowing down her frustration with difficulty. "The how and why of this situation isn't relevant. I'm telling you we have a way to stop the last sixteen years from happening. I need you to tell us how."

"This is highly irregular," he said firmly. "Commander Tano, I trust you and I've trusted you for many years, but this – " He waved his hand vaguely, mouth pressing into a firm line. "It's too much. Not to mention all the protocol you've flagrantly ignored." Now his eyes did flick once, briefly, to Anakin, likely remembering where exactly she'd picked up that particular tendency. "This isn't like you. We have those rules in place for a reason. High Command back on Atollon says you left without informing them of the situation. You show up here, unannounced, in the Phantom, with two Jedi aboard, you get my daughter involved – "

His eyes went once more to Anakin, face darkening, grief spilling out in the clench of his fists, the corners of his mouth.

"She's not involved," Ahsoka reassured him, the protective tone of voice doing much to explain his reticence. She wondered how he handled him and Leia encountering Darth Vader in the halls of the Senate. Couldn't imagine how it might feel, to have your child walk in the shadow of that great a menace. "We only said hello."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. Looked up, finally, reluctantly, to meet Anakin's tired gaze. She wondered what he found there. If he saw what she did.

"A long time ago, I promised Padmé I'd take care of her family, if anything every happened," he said after a moment. "I told her I'd take care of you. She was – a very dear friend of mine." He breathed out, slowly. "I can't tell you what really happened, because I don't know. The only person who does wasn't all that inclined to talk about it, the last I saw him."

Ahsoka's skin prickled. "The only person who does?"

Bail looked away from her, resigned. He sighed. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said finally. "He didn't die on Utapau, or at the Temple. I – I helped him and Master Yoda escape the Purge, with – well. It doesn't matter. He'd confronted Vader. He was there when he fell."

Ahsoka's blood ran cold, betrayal like ice in her veins, sorrow tunnelling through her gut. All these years. Beside her, she could feel Anakin stiffen, painful joy stabbing through her head. It wasn't hers.

"Where is he now?" she choked out through bloodless lips, struggling to keep her tone mild and failing. Why didn't you tell me? "Is he – is he still alive?"

A pause. She could almost feel him thinking, weighing his options, the potential risks, the potential gains. She closed her eyes briefly, swallowing back inappropriate and terrifying thoughts about what she might do if he tried to hide the truth from her again. That wasn't her, that wasn't who she –

"Yes," he replied, reluctantly. "He's on Tatooine."

Anakin choked on his own spit.

"He's where?" he demanded, ignoring the way Bail drew back, wary of him as he reacted for the first time since they'd entered his receiving room. "Why would he – who in their right mind would – ?"

"He has his reasons," Bail said cryptically. "It's not for me to say. I'm not sure it's for him, either. But if you're looking for answers, for someone to tell you the whole story, I can think of no one better."

Ahsoka stood, massaged her forehead with the palm of her hand, head spinning. She wanted to be grateful, could feel the current of the Force flowing with them for once instead of against them, knew that this was the way things had to have been, but –

"Are there any other planet-shattering facts you'd like to share before we leave?" she asked, too sharply. "Is there anything else like this that you've been keeping from me?"

The slightest pause. Her other fist clenched.

"No," he said, and the lights flickered, cold seeping up her spine, because he was lying –

But that wasn't her. It wouldn't be her. She felt Anakin's eyes on her, wondered frustratedly if he knew how awful that gaze was, if he understood how he was both a deterrent and a terrible influence in the same breath. How badly his presence was upsetting everything she'd thought she'd ever known, about her life and about herself.

"Alright." Her voice was brittle.

"Ahsoka," Bail said. "You're a good friend. Someone I respect. I didn't want to hurt you."

"There's a lot of that going around lately," she said tiredly.

"I'm sorry," he said, truly sounding it. "About Obi-Wan, too, though he has his reasons for concealing himself. Force knows we're awfully short of friends these days."

Anakin stood too, a warm presence at her back. She was almost used to him again.

"Thank you, Senator," he said, the Force rippling with guilt. He didn't try to apologize and she was glad. It would only have been horrifyingly insufficient, even if he hadn't technically done anything yet. That was the problem with the future, she thought bitterly. There was no absolution in it. Only in the past.

Bail inclined his head in reserved acknowledgement. He'd had time to think, had finally seen what she'd hoped he would. Someone worth saving. A chance to change their fate.

"Take the Maria," he offered, a diplomat's rapprochement. "An Imperial shuttle will give you less trouble with planetary security."

"On Tatooine, it might give us more," Anakin muttered, but she elbowed him and accepted. "We'll leave Kanan and Ezra with you," she said. "Don't let them give you any trouble."

"I have met them," he said wryly. "So has Leia, for that matter. Between you and me, she wasn't very impressed."

"That's my boys," Ahsoka said, the ghost of a smile crossing her face. She turned to Anakin. "Well? Ready to come home?"

"Every time I think this day can't get any worse, it does," he scowled. She waited expectantly. The scowl deepened.

"Alright," he muttered finally. "Home it is."

"Have I mentioned," Anakin spat, knuckles clenched white at his side as they trudged through hot sand, "how much I hate this Force-forsaken planet?"

"In the half-a-day we've been here, or in all the time I've known you?" Ahsoka asked, the air hot and dry with dust. It already felt like it was coating the inside of her mouth, her clothes, her montrals. Tatooine's two suns burned at her back, even through the thin robe she'd acquired to stave off the radiation. The cragged peaks of what her master had called the Jundland Wastes rose in front of them. They'd landed the shuttle as close to them as possible, hidden it behind a cliff face, but Obi-Wan lived deeper within them, at least according to Bail.

"Of all the places to end up, he chose Tatooine. And not even Mos Espa, or Mos Eisley! This is worse than isolated, this is insane. There's nothing out here but banthas and Tuskens." Anakin shook his head, face darkening, slogging ahead of her through force of will, ever vigilant. Tatooine had made him cagier, if that was even possible. He still looked half-dead. She'd had half a mind to punch him again on their way to here, if only because she'd thought the rest might do him some good.

And because then he'd stop trying to talk to her. She'd avoided conversation as best she could on the shuttle, feigning the need for a nap (which hadn't really been feigned, if she was being honest with herself) and then later meditation. Unfortunately, he had yet to take the hint.

"Hey, Snips," he started, slowing his pace so she could catch up. She did, begrudgingly. His stride was still longer than hers, though not by much. The sand, slipping and sliding underneath their feet, equalized them to an extent. "About what happened on Senator Organa's ship."

"You're gonna have to be more specific," she told him, lips tightening. She picked up the pace, stomping ahead of him so he couldn't see her face. So she couldn't see his. "And don't – call me that." It had been reassuring at first. A reminder that the man she was talking to was from a time and place where that name had still held some meaning to her, to him. A time before it had all been lost. Now it just felt wrong. She hadn't been that Ahsoka for a very long time.

And everything she'd lost had been dealt with and compartmentalized, before he'd come along and dug it all back up. Now it was only a reminder that she didn't want.

"You know what I'm talking about. That wasn't me that shattered that light." For once. She heard him pause to catch his breath. "This isn't like you."

"What isn't like me?" she snapped.

"That," he said. "The – the," he paused. "The snippiness. I mean. That's not what I mean." He caught up to her, scowling as sand flew up into his face. "You just seem – angry. About all this. That's all."

"Wouldn't you be?" she asked, feeling sour victory as he flinched slightly. "I'm not a Jedi, Anakin. I'm allowed to be whatever I want to be."

"I know, I know," he said, "it's just it can be dangerous – "

"I will not," she seethed, "be lectured about this by you of all people."

"It's not a – it's not a lecture," he insisted, wind whipping his hair from his face. "You're sixteen years too old for that, for one thing. But you're still – "

His throat bobbed.

"You're still my padawan," he said. "You can talk to me. And I don't – want – " He paused, something flickering in his eyes that she didn't recognize. Is this what you needed? she wondered fleetingly, grief and guilt a brick in her chest. Is this what would have helped you? "I always wanted you to be better than me."

They rounded the corner, a miserable, sand-worn hut coming into view before them. Her breath caught in her throat, heart pounding, twisting in her chest. She pushed down the part of herself that was still ridiculously, incongruously, desperate for his approval. He had no right, he was the last person she wanted to be hearing anything from, he'd been lied to and betrayed and his solution had been to become a Sith Lord and murder them all, he had no leg to stand on, no right –

"I know," she said quietly, spotting movement in the hut's tiny window. He wasn't wrong. He was only worried. "I know." They ground to a halt, in tandem. The suns left quiet shadows on the desolate ground. The Force trembled.

A bent, huddled figure, barely the shape of a man, swathed in a robe that was sun-beaten and worn, shuffled out of the miserable hut. Ahsoka watched, anger building in the back of her throat, sharp, painful, from where it stemmed in the hollow places of her heart. Anakin stilled beside her, trembling. With exhaustion or emotion, she couldn't tell. Both, probably. The hood was flipped back, Obi-Wan Kenobi's weathered face revealed from underneath it. The blood drained from his cheeks.

"You're still alive, you bastard," she said, the sharp edge of the words scraping her throat, unable to stop herself. "All this time – "

But he barely had eyes for her, though she couldn't blame him. His mouth moved, but no words came from it as he stepped ever closer, a dry and calloused hand outstretched. Like he was looking at a ghost. The Force buffered and shook with the sand-strewn wind.

"Are you going to hit me as well?" Anakin asked, the attempt at levity undermined by the shake in his voice. "Not that I would blame you, Master, it's just it's been happening a lot lately and – "

The outstretched hand finally reached his face, traced the bruising on the high point of his thinly-carved cheek with trembling fingers.

"Master?" Anakin asked, voice swallowed up by the howl of the desert wind, sounding lost. Obi-Wan drew him in slowly, wrapped a still-shaking hand around the back of his head and swallowed him in an embrace, eyes damp and a little desperate.

"I've gone mad," he said finally, voice a thin, hoarse rasp, gruff with disuse. Closed his eyes in disbelief when her former master's arms closed tentatively around him in return, the Force twisting with something that felt like despair, unearthed from where it had been determinedly buried. "This cannot be."

"Through the Force all things are possible," Ahsoka quoted at him dryly, voice still too sharp. "Even time travel, apparently. Or – whatever this is."

"Time travel?" Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He didn't seem nearly surprised enough. Rex would have rolled his eyes. Jedi.

"Yes," she said, mouth tightening as the two men parted, Obi-Wan's hands white knuckled around her former master's elbows. "Our working theory is that the Force flung Skyguy forward into the future, right before the fall of the Republic." The words weren't quite spat; she was still too much of a Jedi for that. Too filled with sorrow, though she couldn't seem to keep it from spilling over, leaking out as spite.

She'd learned that trick from the best. She loved him even still, but he was a hypocrite. Even after all of this, his jaw was still clenching in what she knew was internal denial, eyes pained, the Force flecked with grief and hate.

"You knew," she ground out in Obi-Wan's direction, ignoring him for now. "All this time, you knew. He's out there right now, wreaking havoc, hunting me, and you know who he is – "

And you never told me.

"I thought you were both dead," she said, swallowing back her tears. She'd spared enough for them, though now that she'd opened her mouth she couldn't seem to stop, every thought she'd had since that moment in Bail's office, since that first inkling of suspicion, since she'd heard Anakin's voice in the temple on Lothal spilling out, coated in vitriol. "You let me believe that you were dead. I thought you'd both died defending – defending what we loved. I've lived with that for years. And instead – "

"Ahsoka," Obi-Wan said, and his voice was a tired, rasping shadow, only shades of its former authority creeping in, dredged up from the past. Tatooine, in all of its ragged, dusty, heat-scoured glory, was not the Jedi Temple. And Obi-Wan Kenobi, this robed, weathered hermit, hiding from the galaxy, was no Jedi Master.

And she was no Jedi.

He looked to Anakin, grief shuttering his eyes. "Things are – are more complicated than you've been led to believe," he said. "I'll tell you what I can. But it's not – "

He dragged a hand down his face. He looked impossibly old. Impossibly sad.

"It's not a very happy story," he said.

hello again!

the next few weeks are gonna be a bit nuts, so I thought I'd better get this chapter up - it might be a while before the next update, though I'm happy to say that this story is technically finished! just in bits and pieces that need to be stitched together by yours truly

as always, thank you so much for reading and commenting and please let me know what you thought! I'm terrible at replying to comments but know that I read and appreciate absolutely everything. your words mean a lot 3

enjoy!

- W

cross-posted to ao3