"Ahsoka." He's known she's alive, could feel her on the edge of his senses, but actually seeing her standing tall and still on the balcony loosens the knot in his chest a little. "Ahsoka!" It's me. You're safe now, let's go." He steps closer, holding his hand out.
Her shoulders are set, rigid. "Are you . . . proud of me, Master?" Her voice is deceptively light.
"What?" Anakin squeaks. "Uh, course Snips, course I'm proud of you, now let's get out of here," Anakin rushes. The Force is a churning mist. Ahsoka doesn't speak, doesn't move—she barely breathes. "Ahsoka, come on, we don't have time for this."
"He's right. Right about everything. You must join us." Ahsoka turns to face him. "Don't you want what's best for the universe?"
Alarms blare in the Force. "Hey, what's wrong with you?"
"Always with the criticism, Master." She rolls her yellow eyes. "Never really believing in me, trusting me," she sneers, tone vicious. "Well, I don't need you anymore."
Anakin's heart pounds. "Ahsoka, listen to me. He has done something to you; snap out of it! This isn't you, Ahsoka!" His voice isn't shaking—it isn't.
"Isn't it?" she snaps and Anakin is stunned by the conviction in her voice. "I feel more like myself than I ever have." Her eyes darken. "You should have seen this coming, Master."
"What are you talking about?"
Ahsoka prowls closer. Anakin feels a rush of wrong wrong wrong.
He's starting to panic. "Ahsoka, just come back to the ship. We'll figure out what happened."
"What happened is I learned the truth. The Republic is corrupt, the Jedi are weak. And now they must come to an end." She ignites one of her lightsabers. "Starting with you."
How did this happen? How could he have allowed this to happen? How had he failed so completely?
"I don't want to fight you, Ahsoka." Ahsoka does not share his feelings. She's a whirlwind on the balcony and a storm in the Force.
She's fuming, striking again and again. "I'm surprised! Are you not a true Jedi? Disloyal, quick to turn on your own? Blind to your failures?" she snarls.
"I am a Jedi," Anakin says slowly, scrambling to block her sabers. "And so are you." Where is this coming from? The Order isn't perfect and Ahsoka has her complaints, but as far as Anakin knows, she loves it. It's her life. It's their life.
Ahsoka's scornful smirk—a vile mockery of her usual bright, warm smile—turns amused. "You confuse me, Master. I thought you of all people would understand the flaws of the Order. Of the Code," she says conspiratorially, like she's poking fun at him. There's an easy teasing look in her eyes but it just makes Anakin feel sick. She sweeps her arm out, knocking him down with the Force and her face hardens. "You know they don't really trust me, or even Obi-Wan. And they certainly don't trust you."
Anakin's heart skips a beat as he rolls out of the way of her saber. He muzzles a familiar spark of anger—at the Order, at the Council—and stands. "You don't mean that, Ahsoka."
Ahsoka just glowers and races at him. Her strikes are strong, movements precise, and she doesn't leave any openings for Anakin to exploit.
Not that he could bring himself to hurt her anyway.
"And now the student will kill the master."
He looks her in the eye. The light from their saber lock gives her face an infernal glow, illuminating the cracks in her montrals and the sickly green veins running up her face and arms.
"Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you, Snips?" Anakin reverts back to his usual way of easing tension.
It doesn't work. "Don't call me that!" Ahsoka screams. "I hate it when you call me that!"
Anakin pulls back, blinking rapidly. It's not her, it's not her, it's not her. She doesn't mean it. But as he knocks her lightsaber into the air, a dark part of him can't help but wonder if there's truth to the feelings the Son has twisted.
Because the Son has corrupted her. Anakin knows he did something—warped, perverted her somehow. A wave of fury washes over Anakin at the thought of the Son in Ahsoka's head. Because he did something. She wouldn't have—no. She'd never.
She'd never.
Anakin's relieved to feel Obi-Wan's calming, though troubled energy seep into the Force beside him.
Ahsoka looks happy too. "Two Jedi. Finally, a challenge."
Anakin shoots Obi-Wan a message across their bond: Something is wrong with Ahsoka and the situation is rapidly spiraling out of control.
Obi-Wan's heart twists.
"So kind of you to join us, Kenobi."
Obi-Wan nearly faints at how much she sounds like Maul.
"I was beginning to worry you couldn't feel my hatred through your little shields," Ahsoka says, downright gleeful and eager to torment another enemy.
Worry and sorrow battle in Obi-Wan's chest. "Ahsoka, please."
"Don't patronize me," she snaps. "And don't act like you care. There's no need to pretend here, Master. We all know your famed Jedi restraint has curbed any . . . undesirable emotions. Concern, love, attachment." She flips over Obi-Wan and continues fighting like she isn't shredding his heart. "Like I said: I'm beginning to think you can't feel anything past your shields."
Anakin glances frantically at Obi-Wan, whose face is stricken. Obi-Wan falters, Ahsoka's saber almost cutting his head off, and Anakin pushes her back with the Force, hoping to buy them a few seconds to regroup.
But Ahsoka hurls her shoto at Anakin's face. As he ducks, he thinks he'd be proud at the speed and power behind her throw if she wasn't trying to decapitate him. Even so, she's now down a lightsaber and getting tired.
"I still can't believe I was stuck with you two. I deserve someone who trusts my skill, my judgement." She grunts as Anakin elbows her in the face.
He feels a sweep of guilt. He hadn't meant to hurt her. How could he have hurt her?
But Ahsoka just bites a surprised, maybe pleased, laugh and says, "See, Master? I told you. So quick to turn on your own."
Anakin wants to scream. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants Ahsoka back, he wants to kill the Son, slowly and painfully, for what he's trying to take from him.
"Ahsoka, please. Whatever the Son did"—Obi-Wan sounds desperate—"whatever he told you, we can fix it."
Ahsoka playfully pouts. "Oh, why so serious Kenobi? Afraid you'll lose a Padawan like you lost a Master?"
Obi-Wan collapses and tells himself it's only because of Ahsoka's kick to his ribs, ignoring the onslaught of memories, pain, the flare of the shredded bond, the feeling of his Master fading into the Force—
"Enough of this."
Suddenly the Son is in front of them and Ahsoka drops to one knee before him, head bowed, and Anakin's hands are on Obi-Wan's shoulders.
But the world tunnels as the Son takes Ahsoka's lightsaber—the same one Anakin's spent hours sparring against, correcting footwork, feeling pride as it knocks his own lightsaber away. The saber he and Ahsoka have been modifying, tuning and adjusting the crystal, the emitter, the switch, the one that sings Ahsoka in the Force when he hears it ignited, sees it flashing on the battlefield because she's a soldier, even though she's too young to be on the front, too young to be here, on Mortis, kneeling in front of the Son, too young to—
Anakin feels everything and nothing when the Son places a careful finger on Ahsoka's forehead and she falls to the balcony floor, dead.
