When she had been a little foundling, she fell off of the top bunk of the bed she had to share until Padawanhood. It was not a far fall, nor was it lethal, but the seconds between falling and landing caused her heart to stampede her chest, heat exploding in her mind. In those moments, she had been powerless. She could have gotten hurt, but she couldn't do anything about it. That little fall started her fear of falling- and by association, her fear of not being in control.

The second time she fell, she thought she was done for. She and another Initiate named Rhome had been playing tag, and they had raced onto the freshly waxed floors of the forty-fifth balcony. She had slipped, her frictionless shoes seeking grip on the sleek ground. Her small body had gone straight over the cautionary railings. Rhome had sprinted back into the Temple, calling for help. Ahsoka's fingers started slipping, and she screwed her eyes shut, refusing to look below her. As young and cocky as she could be, she knew she was not strong enough in the force to save herself if she fell. Tears slipped down her face- she was not yet above being afraid of death, and she did not yet welcome it. It was unbecoming of a Jedi to think such thoughts, but she was just a little girl. Only moments had passed, but it felt like eons by the time Rhome had returned with Madam Jocasta Nu. After that, she had stayed clear of heights higher than she was tall.

Perhaps having such a fear would not benefit on the battle-field. Nor did it. Every time something went amiss, her heart would race as a metaphorical ground hurtled towards her, her mind replaying those seconds over and over again. They reminded her what would happen if she were to fail. Except, for the failures, it would not be her on the ground, it would be those who she had sworn to protect. Her men, the ones who had no choice in being forced to fight, lest they be put down like dogs by the Kaminoans. Her men, the ones who, despite looking and sounding older, were as old as her, if not younger. Their children's hearts darkening with every atrocity witnessed.

Gradually, her fear of losing control lessened as her apprenticeship under Anakin Skywalker furthered. She was prepared for everything to go wrong- for structure-less battle. She was prepared for messy and unorganized, she did not understand what peace was anymore, only disorganized chaos. Perhaps she should have been trained for that. Who knew an organized battle could lead to her ultimate defeat?

Her fear of loss of control was gone. Unfortunately, her fear of falling was not. Every time she jumped from a ship or off a wall, her throat squeezed, and her mind played out a grisly end. When she and Anakin threw Rex off the wall on Geonosis, she wanted to throw up. She could only imagine the fear that gripped him as he screamed down the wall. How was she supposed to know that his greatest fear was not falling either? She had apologized profusely to him, until the point where he took her to Kix. She had not stopped apologizing, and tears had run down her face, and sobs racked her body until she eventually did throw up. Kix said it was not her actual fear that made her go through hysterics, but the built-up pain and rage since the war had begun. After that, the clones watched out for her because Kix had told them to look out for other fears that could trigger a break down. None of them had known about her fear, so how would they know about anything else.

As the war went on, her fear did not grow, but nor did it cease. She learned to control her breathing. She learned to not let it control her, but to embrace it. Whenever they had to climb a cliffside or jump from heights, the clones always made sure to keep her preoccupied with stories from Kamino. She loved those stories, and she learned to love falling.

Slowly, her fear became obsessive. Slowly, she began to love the feeling of her heart racing, love the feeling of her blood rushing through her, loved the feeling of her brain struggling against itself. Falling became the only fear she could control. Out of all her fears, falling was the least scary now. Everytime the opportunity arose, she took it. Flinging herself from lethal heights just to feel again. Coric warned them about it. That a child going into a traumatic experience such as war would cause such action. It wasn't PTSD, not even close. It was a release. Many found release in training or drinking, others found release through sex or brain-stimulants. Not Ahsoka. She found release through her fear.

Anakin's new fear was that she'd accidentally kill herself. Obi-Wan's was that she'd do it on purpose. The clones became hyper-aware of her. Noting every twitch or glance, they trained themselves to notice her tells. Trained themselves to protect their baby Jedi. After what she was put through, it was all they could do.

On Zyggeria, she was held in a cage, miles and miles above the ground. The wind would swing her cage occasionally. Molec would threaten to drop her sometimes. She wished he would. She laughed whenever he used the threat, because that would just be the greatest thing to happen to her. Then her fears would come to pass, and she would embrace it. Because not even Yoda using the force would be able to save her if she fell the distance. She wished he would drop her, because once he found that the threat of falling did not work on her, he used a different tactic. One that scarred her both physically and mentally.

When they had been rescued, she had not allowed herself to be helped. They would see her otherwise, and they would know. And then they would worry anew, would worry about more than just her falling obsession. They might worry about each other.

She thought she could hide her newest wounds from everyone. She was wrong. She couldn't hide it from Rex. How could she hide anything from Rex? He was her best friend. He found her sitting on a catwalk above the inventory cargo bay, toying with the idea of jumping. He sat next to her before she could do anything.

Rex knew as soon as he looked into her eyes what had happened. He knew and he whisked her off to the med bay, where Coric treated her. They were the only two people she saw for a while.

She found she could only blame herself and her stupid obsession with the fear of falling.

Her end came in the heat of battle. It was not a traditional battle, not by any standards. She knew. She knew it all. And her death would ensure the safety of millions, would ensure Anakin would not fall by the Chancellor. Oh, she knew, so she waited in the Chancellor's office for him to return. He did return. He knew she knew. He knew any action she took from there would be dangerous. He knew she would fight him. He knew she would lose. He didn't know how. Nor did he know that she forced his hand in her death. He did not know she had won when her body had broken the glass upon impact and flew out the window. He did not know she had won when she fell with her face to the heavens and tears slipping free, following her down, down, down. She had no fear as she fell. She could only see flashes of the best moments of her life. Could only see Rex and Anakin and Obi-Wan and Padme. Could only smile as her fall came to an end. Ahsoka Tano was not afraid.

He did not know she had won until days later, when Anakin had visited him in his cell with the expression of a broken and beaten man, but not one seeking revenge. He knew she had won then, and he cursed her name as he was fired down by clones.

He was shot by a firing squad. Five clones. Five clones of the 501st, who were all crying as a warm force signature wrapped around them.