Chapter 17: The Night
17 BBY- 2 Years after the Rise of the Empire
By the end of the next rotation, the Imperial compound on Raada would be blown to hell.
They just had a few more things left to do. The walkers had already been smelted to a lumpy ruin by their acid charges from a few weeks back, and they'd slipped through the wires to cut power again. In the black of night, they pushed on. The armory was laden with hidden charges. Mines decorated the eaves of the admin building.
The cause was coming to fruition.
Tomorrow night, when everyone was enjoying themselves at the festival, they would strike. All would be fine and dandy at the start of the festivities, but as the night dragged on and people began to get more and more drunk off corn liquor and wine, it would happen. Rex and Vartan, the two who would be carrying the charges, would press the trigger and blow it all to smithereens.
It will work, Ahsoka told herself. It will work.
"Ashla," came a soft voice—Chenna's—and Ahsoka looked down from where she sat perched on the chain link fence. Shadows cloaked the girl's face and veiled her fear, but it was still visible in the Force.
"What if this isn't the right thing to do?" She wrung her hands. "What if all of this is wrong?"
Her eyes fell to the rucksack full of charges slung across Ahsoka's shoulder, trembling at the thought that this was her own idea, her own plan to burn and destroy.
The poor girl had a bad case of the battle-jitters, as Echo would call it, although Fives always insisted shinie-shakes sounded better. Whatever the name, Chenna seemed to be going through it. All she needed was a little encouragement, a slap on the bucket, and maybe a cup of caf.
Ahsoka glanced at Kolvin to get an affirmative nod that he could take care of the rest of it from here. He did so, and taking the rucksack from her shoulder, hopped clumsily to the other side of the fence and disappeared to do some dirty work.
"Chenna," Ahsoka began calmly. She leaped off the fence and landed lightly next to her. "This is our best bet. The plan couldn't be better, and it's the safest for all the townspeople. None of them will be harmed."
Chenna nodded, but she didn't look convinced.
Placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, Ahsoka gave her a sympathetic look. "War is hard," she said quietly.
"But this isn't war," Chenna whispered back. "This is just a rebellion."
Ahsoka blinked. Her brain stumbled and her words plunged to a halt.
"Right," she stammered eventually. Then she hastily withdrew her hand and turned back to the fence to see if Kolvin was done yet.
They had plenty more sabotage to commit, and the sun had only just set.
Ahsoka and Rex got back to their home at about the same time. They greeted each other with a small nod of their heads, but the air seemed empty and disquieted as it floated in the room.
They cleaned up the shop a little, made a pot of caf. They went over the battleplan again. They updated each other on how their groups had done.
Rex reported that him, Hestu, Banji, and two other townsfolk had successfully ruined the circuits connecting the alarm system in the trooper barracks. He told her Vartan's group of a few townsfolk had managed to sabotage the durasteel doors of the maintenance bunker so that they were welded shut. Ahsoka informed him that her, Chenna, Kolvin, and Kolvin's three friends had lined the walls of the artillery units with mines and laced the communications bunker with blastpowder and magnetic charges.
"Chenna's got the jitters," Ahsoka said.
"Ah," Rex hummed. He took a sip of his lukewarm caf. "Shinie-shakes were never fun."
That night, Ahsoka didn't make any move to eat dinner, and this time, Rex didn't push her, because he wasn't eating, either. Her stomach felt shriveled and small. His felt torn out and stomped on.
In some not-funny joke, they'd reverted to how they would've been before a battle or a campaign: restless, quiet. Nervous, albeit with some butterflies, but this time without the excitement, the thrill. This time it was just sick dread.
They sat uselessly at their little wooden table, letting the minutes scrape by as they waited for an excuse to do anything but sleep.
They made a second pot of caf well after the first one went cold.
"It will work," Rex said.
"I know," Ahsoka replied.
But she didn't. How could she? They didn't have their generals, or their medics, or their hundred other brothers, or their fifty-odd military tacticians with detailed maps and battleplans and precise strategies on how to infiltrate and defeat the enemy, just when and where and at what time.
No, no. This time, they were on their own.
Hours after they'd finally forced themselves to crawl into their racks and get some shut-eye, Ahsoka still couldn't sleep.
She tossed. She turned. She counted blurgs jumping over her rack and recited ancient Jedi tenets and prayers. She rehearsed the plan again, over and over and over until the memory of the map of Raada was burned into her brain, the imaginary whiff of blastpowder cemented into her nostrils.
Sleep stayed far away.
She decided the best solution was to sleep in Rex's rack. She argued with herself that it was because she was cold, or because she needed a change of environment and wanted to see what the bottom rack was like, or some silly, stupid nonsense like that. Convincing herself of a proper excuse seemed irrelevant at this point. But under the cover of night, she climbed in anyway.
At first, Rex startled, but he didn't object. He laid still on the mattress, his back to her and face to the wall, politely scooching a bit to the right to give her more space. Ahsoka didn't miss the way his breathing grew a bit sharp or how he crunched his knuckles into his palms.
But when she flipped back the thin sheet to see that Rex was very much indeed without a shirt, and it dawned on her that she was very well going to be in a tight spot next to him, it was her face that went stark red. Regret swallowed her whole.
She stuttered an apology and ducked her head. She turned to leave, back to her own bed, but Rex's hand snagged her wrist and he pulled her down on top of him.
Biting back a surprised yelp, she tried to land as gently as possible, so as not to disturb him, even though she clearly already had, and willed away the embarrassment simmering under her skin. She attempted to resettle herself, sliding her legs under the sheet, tried to shift her hips so she wasn't crushing him. Then she sank to the side, let her weight fall onto her shoulder, drew the sheet back up over them both. She let her head fall against the mattress, let her forehead rest against his arm.
But then Rex shifted, turned his whole body around so that he faced her. He looked her in the eye. The dimming candle she forgot to blow out seemed to trickle a flame into his eyes, all warm amber and honey.
He breathed out a little, and then, "Ahsoka."
And she looked at him, and there was something warm there, something vulnerable that she wanted to reach out and touch with her lips. So she leaned in and kissed him, kissed him softly until the creases in his brow smoothed and the tension in his shoulders all but melted away. It worked like a spell and he drifted into a light, hazy sleep.
She squeezed the hand left laying against her lekku and swallowed all the words unspoken between them.
Then she started to silently recite the battle plan again.
A murky stream of starlight filtered in from the dust-caked window, replacing the long-dead candlelight. She gazed at the little pink scars peppering Rex's back, lit faintly by the light, relics of a hundred battles and a life-long war.
Without thinking, she pressed her lips to a cluster of them on his shoulder blade. He didn't wake, but he shifted slightly and grunted in his sleep. Before he could slowly blink back to consciousness, she rolled over in the bed and tried again for sleep.
When he did rise moments later, he didn't bother her, but she felt his arm drowsily wrap around her waist and draw her close. His chest was warm and bare against her back. The nerve endings under her skin tingled and thawed like snow under a Raadan sun. She listened to him doze off a few minutes later, focusing on the feeling of his nose buried into her shoulder, breath slow and even as it swept down her neck.
Outside, the stars taunted her.
Hours later, the night was getting colder, dimmer, endless. Ahsoka shuffled closer to Rex, pulled the sheet tighter around them.
Her own breathing was getting too loud and obnoxious for her to listen to, so she resolved to listen to Rex's once more.
Even, placid. Like a pendulum or waves in an ocean. Breath caressing her cheek like a ghost. Fingers draped heavily over her hips. Chin resting against the dip in her montrals.
Softly, she reached out with the Force. Not to do anything, not to move, but just to feel the beating of his heart, to feel its gentle hum in the Force.
It was slow, steady. Warm like a stone drenched in sunlight and steady like a river. It trickled around her own aura, mingling in the fibers between them, brushing up against her fingertips and against her heart.
But it didn't stay—and when his blood started to pound and to race, Ahsoka knew immediately that he was having a nightmare. He'd had them before. She'd heard him and the men scream.
Before he could start to toss and turn, she woke him with a gentle shake and a whisper of his name. He shuddered awake, and, trembling, took her into his arms.
He touched her jaw and her lips and her neck with his fingertips, just ghosting over her skin, making sure that she was alright, that she was safe, that she was real.
It had been four years since Umbara, three since Ahsoka left, two since the Order and the death of all his brothers. Minutes since all of that and worse had played out in his mind.
Ahsoka traced lazy circles and idle spirals on his back, let him hold her close. She whispered his name and pressed her nose against his temple.
Slowly, he tumbled back into a fitful sleep. His arms were still around her, but his grip had loosened where his fingers had dug into the flesh on her waist.
Sleep mocked her in its cruel dance. It smiled and said, you will always be alone. Maybe you would've been better off as a Jedi, because then you'd be dead, just like the rest of your kind.
Sunrise approached slowly. But as soon as the tar-black sky gave way to dawn, Ahsoka rose to her feet and got dressed for the day. Rex followed quickly in her footsteps.
There wasn't much to do; everything had been set up in the nights past. It was just a waiting game, now. They played mechanics for the rest of the day, fixing broken astromechs, refurbishing old blasters, upgrading vibrospades and ion shovels and other outdated, pointless farming tools.
Ahsoka blew through her pile of work quicker than ever before. She sat hunched in one spot on the floor for hours, working hastily to complete everything, desperate to not let a single moment be wasted in uselessness. Her dark circles etched lunar caverns under her eyes, which were already getting red and bleary.
But she was alert. Her fingers moved fast and her mind faster, moving from bolt to screw to helical gear to durasteel spring with the speed of a youngling on their first-ever stolen cup of caf.
For most of the morning, the sinking, dragging dread of the night to come escaped her mind. But then she ran out of things to fix.
"Are there any ships in the yard we have to look at?" Ahsoka asked. She kept her gaze held to the pit-droid she'd just refurbished, looking for a single dent or ding out of place.
Rex, also working that morning, but not nearly at the speed she was, shook his head. "Finished up the last one yesterday."
"Blast."
So, Ahsoka started to clean.
She dug out the broom that had been lost in an astral abyss somewhere for the past few months and swept the entire floor. She rearranged every stack of gears and every bucket of bolts, putting them into neat, tucked-away places on the shelf. She found a rag and rid the counters of any dust there was to be seen for the first time in the better part of a year. She organized all of their client's items they'd been asked to fix on the shelves on the back wall, sorted by size and by category and arranged alphabetically by last name of client, left to right and top to bottom. She stripped the racks of their thin sheets and washed them in the 'fresher with cold water and a bar of cheap jogan-scented soap before hanging them on a line outside the front door to dry. The neighbors gave her weird looks, but she deduced it wasn't because she looked frazzled and sleep-deprived, but more likely that they'd never seen her do laundry before. She scrubbed the sink and the showerhead and the dull, metal-sheet excuse of a mirror with a rag and rubbing alcohol, and then, for good measure, she used her thumbnail to dig the grime out of the crevices between the tiles of the 'fresher floor.
Good, Ahsoka thought. There was nothing wrong with a bit of escapism.
Rex came into the 'fresher, holding a fresh cup of caf and wearing his oil-stained work clothes. He leaned against the doorway and took a sip of the steaming drink.
"I just fixed—what are you doing?"
Ahsoka didn't look up from the floor. She rubbed her knuckle against a particularly rough patch of dried soap.
"Cleaning."
Rex didn't reply. He stood and watched for a moment, taking in the sight and enjoying his caf. It was a well-deserved break from fixing a pneumo-plough that had proved to put up a bigger fight than a gundark on spice.
The sound of Ahsoka's knuckle squeaking on the tile bounced off the 'fresher walls and filled the silence.
"I made a fresh pot of caf, if you're running out of fuel," he offered.
"No, thanks."
Rex hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should ask again, then decided against it. It was probably best not to interfere. Ahsoka was cleaning, which was something to be thankful for, even if it was entirely derived from a bad case of the shinie-shakes.
Silver linings. Or something.
Afternoon came and went, and then it was evening, and then dusk. Then another cup of caf, then another dusting of the shelves. Then a cleaning of the caf machine, because Ahsoka couldn't quite remember the last time it was cleaned, if ever. Then some more sweeping, then a quick shower.
Then a knock at the door.
"Ashlaaa, Rex! C'mon, c'mon! Let's go! We're gonna be late!"
"That's Banji," Rex said, and Ahsoka's shoulders slumped in relief.
More pounding on the door.
"Come on, guys!"
"Coming!" Ahsoka answered. She grabbed her boots and yanked them on, tossing Rex's towards him. He grabbed his decee, his coat, and his shoes, then started towards the door.
Ahsoka caught his elbow before he could twist open the knob.
"Do you have it?
Her eyes searched his before he nodded his head.
Then he turned the knob and let the door swing open.
"Ugh, what took you guys so long?" Banji complained immediately upon seeing their faces, but she grinned nonetheless. "The Lunar Festival is the only holiday on Raada, so you absolutely can't miss it!"
"Leave them be, Banji," said Chenna, ever-mothering. "It's only just started. We still have plenty of time."
"Plenty of time indeed," Vartan grunted lowly, hovering behind them all in the dark and making his presence known for the first time. "Are you both ready for the festivities?"
Ahsoka raised a brow at the double-entendre but nodded anyway.
Banji grabbed onto her hand and pulled her forward. "Then let's go!"
Outside, the sky was obsidian, but there was a bit of a cloud cover that left it muddled and smudged with grey. Vartan, Luda, and Chenna chatted lightly with Rex on their way. Banji and Hedala dragged Ahsoka by the hands and begged her to hurry up in between their excited squeals.
In the corner of her eye, Ahsoka saw Rex and Vartan communicate through silent nods and dull glances with hands tucked into their pockets, hands gripping something probably shaped like a detonator.
The festival was being held on the edge of town, right where the jagged line of old buildings melted into the waving, golden fields of grain, although Vartan made sure to gruffly point out that the fields wouldn't stay so waving or golden if the Imperials had their way. There were hundreds of candles strewn about, like someone had reached into a bag full of stars and tossed them haphazardly over the ground. Ribbons of bright orange and deep indigos draped the clearing in a garland, a bit jumbled and disorganized in design. Lazy, jaunty music wafted through the atmosphere, sounding something like gasan strings, marcan drums, and a harmonica. There was the aroma of a hearty stew and a couple of stands with bottles of wine and beer. Amidst it all, laughter, charming and almost mythical, floated on the breeze, a sound almost more beautiful than the old Jedi hymns that echoed through the temple.
"It's a shame we can't see the stars on the night of the Festival," Chenna murmured, gazing up at the sky. "That was always my favorite part."
"You don't need to see the stars to know they're there, sweetheart," Luda chuckled next to her, patting her on the shoulder. "Besides. I know you like the dancing even more. I'm sure Kolvin would dance with you if you asked!"
"I'd what?" Kolvin asked, coming up to stand next to them all. On his arm was an older lady, a wrinkly, blue-colored Rodian whom Ahsoka had never seen but assumed was his mother.
"Luda!" Chenna gasped. Her face scrunched up in embarrassment and she lightly shoved a chuckling Luda's arm away. Ahsoka smirked and Banji snickered.
Luda ignored her and moved over to Kolvin's mother. "Krissa, my dear," she greeted warmly, wrapping her into a big hug. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm well," Krissa sighed. She was frail and spindly and leaned heavily on a cane, but she smelled like daisies and musty lampshades. Ahsoka thought that if a too-strong breeze came by, she'd topple over. The resemblance between her and Kolvin was strong in the sharp jawline and the eyes.
"Are you looking forward to the festival?" Luda went on.
Krissa looked up at her questioningly. "What festival?"
"Kolvin's mom forgets things sometimes," Banji whispered, leaning towards Ahsoka. "Chenna said it has something to do with getting old."
A sinking feeling in her stomach, Ahsoka nodded her understanding.
"Let's find somewhere for you to sit, Ma," Kolvin said gently, stepping up towards his mother and placing a warm hand on her shoulder. Luda nodded once, a sweetness tinged with sorrow in her eyes. She took Krissa's hands in hers and squeezed them once while Kolvin went to find a chair to pull up.
"There you all are!" came a jovial holler, and the group of them all turned to see Hestu approaching them, clutching at least three more tankards than any man, or Bothan, should be able to hold at once.
"Getting the party started without us, I see," Vartan said, but he left Luda's side to give his friend a sturdy shake and a brotherly hug, complete with an unnecessarily-heavy thump on the back.
"Ready for the night?" Hestu asked, a gleam in his eye.
"Never been readier," Vartan answered lowly.
Ahsoka felt like she was going to be sick.
With a renewed bounce to his laugh, Hestu started to pass around the tankards. If he was nervous at all about the night's predetermined events, he didn't show it. He handed one to Vartan, one to Rex, one to Kolvin, who had found a chair, and one to Luda, who politely refused with a wave of her hand.
"You've gotta drink somethin', Luda—it's the night of the festival!" Hestu insisted.
"Oh, I'll drink somethin', but it sure as hell won't be your nasty moonshine," she sassed in reply.
"I thought you ran out of the moonshine," Rex said warily. He peered into the tankard. "Is this—"
"Oh, you betcha! Only Raada's finest!"
Next to her, Luda sniffed and shook her head. "Come on, Ashla," she said, taking her arm, "let's go find some wine."
Thinking she would probably need it, Ahsoka accepted.
Ignoring the way Rex's jaw hit the floor, she wordlessly let Luda take her arm and lead her away. Trailing behind her was Chenna, who still occasionally cast a glance back at Kolvin.
Behind them, she heard Hestu chuckle and say, "what, does your woman never drink?", followed quickly by Rex's flustered "w-what? I don't—she's not my—!".
"I'll tell you," Luda started as they walked over to the beverage stands, "this festival has gotta be the best thing about our little home here. It's one of the few times that everyone gets along and has a lovely time. And it's also one of the only times we take a holiday—which, if you ask me, just means we should take more holidays! It's absurd, really. The folks out here just work too hard."
"They'll only be working harder from here on out. Imperial hours are supposed to get longer," Chenna sighed.
Luda clucked her disapproval. "Not if we can help it."
The sick in Ahsoka's gut twisted back up again. She forced a small, brisk nod of her head to portray every bit the determined leader she was supposed to be that night.
Luda found the three of them some wine while Chenna and Ahsoka found glasses. The bottle was handed to Ahsoka, who, for all her strength from years of dedicated training, could not open it. With a tsk, Luda plucked the bottle back from her hands and withdrew a spiral-shaped screw from her pocket. The cork popped free moments later.
"Hmm," Luda considered, swirling the wine in her cup once she poured it. She took a whiff then went in for a sip. "Fairly strong, full-bodied. Rich aroma, if a bit tannic."
"I can taste the barrel," Chenna observed. "It's a bit smoky."
Luda hummed her agreement.
Ahsoka thought it tasted like how the ethanol smelled on the bacta patches Kix used to slap on her blasterburns after a battle, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
"It's good weather tonight. We really got lucky, unlike last harvest. It rained the whole night," Luda chatted lightly, eyes watching the townspeople milling about.
"Rain's never fun," Chenna said. "At least, not when it's cold out. I don't mind the humidity as much."
"I know a planet where it rains nonstop," Ahsoka put in, letting herself fall into the ebb and flow of casual conversation. She watched as a Sullustan farmer filled his tankard with beer from the tap. He cursed as the foam rose up and spilled out all over his hand. "I've never been, but Rex has. He told me it's cold and wet there all the time."
Chenna grimaced. "Sounds miserable."
"Probably was."
Minutes full of nonchalant conversation later, Ahsoka was still trying to fight the unease bubbling up in her stomach. She was running on low sleep, and it didn't help that everything they had been working towards for the better part of the last year was going off tonight in a big boom, quite literally. The cause had reached its most pivotal moment. Everything on Raada, absolutely everything, would change after tonight.
For better or for worse.
"So, Ashla," Luda began finishing her first glass and pouring herself another, "are you and Rex planning to stay around a while yet?"
Ahsoka tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you two usually move around a lot, don't you? I wasn't sure if after…" she made a funny gesture with her free hand that Ahsoka assumed meant the mutinous blowing up of all Imperial presence on Raada, "…all this, you two might move your shop elsewhere. A bigger planet, maybe, where you could make more money."
Ahsoka hesitated before answering. Her thumb traced the rim of her cup. "Well… we'll stay as long as we can, most likely. So far, there's been good business here. As mechanics, that is."
"Of course," Luda concurred.
"Farmers do need things fixed often," Chenna put in.
"I'm glad to hear that, hun. Vartan really likes you and Rex, and I know the little girls—not you, Chenna, I know you aren't little anymore, you're very much a young adult, but just your sisters— do, too. Plus, Raada's a good place to settle down, have a family. It may be quaint, but—"
Ahsoka choked. She felt the wine go up her nose as she spluttered and tried to regain her sense of normalcy. "Wh-what?"
"Oh, too far ahead? My bad. You two are young, so no need to rush."
Ahsoka swallowed and cleared her throat. She nodded weakly.
Luda went in for another sip of wine. Mauve lips hidden behind the glass, the woman smirked.
Still feeling the alcohol burning in her nostrils, Ahsoka tried for another sip of her own, swallowing back a cough and shuddering as it went down.
"We should head back to the others," Chenna said, glancing back towards where Vartan and the others stood. "Banji and Hedala are probably driving Kolvin nuts by now."
"I'm sure he can handle it, but for my husband's sake, we'll head on over," Luda chuckled.
When they returned, Banji and Hedala were indeed bouncing on their heels and pulling at Vartan and the others to go do or see something or another. Rex and Hestu had bottles of ebla beer in their hands, either having thrown away the moonshine or finished it, probably the latter. Vartan still sipped from his tankard.
"Let's go, Kolvin! Just one dance. Please? You won't regret it. Or maybe you will, I dunno—but it'll be fun, promise!" Banji pleaded, tugging on the sleeve of the older Rodian. He glared and tried to shake her off like a wompfly buzzing too close to his ear.
"The dances haven't started yet, little one," Hestu broke in, patting Banji's crown of curls, "but as soon as it does, I call first dance with you and Hedala!"
Elated, Banji dropped Kolvin's arm and pumped a triumphant fist into the air. Beside her, Hedala giggled and squealed.
Ahsoka moved over to resume her place next to Rex, keeping her eyes on the girls. He leaned over and murmured something to her, but she was too caught off guard by the alluring scent of moonshine and cedar that drifted off his skin to register what he said. She wanted to lean in further and taste it, put her lips on his jaw or his neck.
Ahsoka cleared her throat, heat stinging her cheeks. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"I said Vartan and I decided to wait until the end of the festivities. We want people to be able to enjoy their time."
"Oh—oh, yes. Of course."
Yes, right. Imperials. Sabotage. Bombs. Explosions. That's where her mind should've been.
Rex peered at her closely. "Are you buzzed?"
"What?" Ahsoka snorted. She looked down at her glass of wine. It was nearly drained, but she'd only had one. Was she really that much of a lightweight? It's not like she'd ever had the chance to find out. But that would be a little sad. "No, I'm not buzzed. That's absurd."
"Hmm."
Ahsoka started thinking about the cause. About Imperials and bombs and explosions. She stared down at the remaining wine in her glass, having lost interest in drinking it and swirled it around instead. It formed a purple vortex that she wished would suck her away like a black hole.
She turned to Rex to say something, to ask him about the plan one more time, but he was deep in conversation with Kolvin about work and farming and other meaningless things she didn't want to bother with. They were starting a rebellion tonight, setting things ablaze tonight, and she wanted to talk about that. Not farming.
Ahsoka knew the plan was going to work. It was solid, it was robust, it was well-worked. Detailed inside and out, traced over and over again until perfection. It would be fine.
But what ifs and maybes slept on the back of her tongue, bitter and brooding.
Then the music started, or got more intense, rather, and things started to pick up. The festival was filled with a sudden spry and merry delight that made it feel like the air was sparkling around them. Ahsoka was dragged out of her dark and convoluted thoughts by sounds of strings plucking and feet thumping and people laughing. Unbidden, a smile touched her lips.
Huddled together on the edge of town, the people of Raada celebrated. They gathered and played like grown-up children. They dragged around itchy hay bales, compared their ridiculously swollen hubba gourds and blumpkins, and dunked their faces in pails of water to swap spit in a fishing trip for meilooruns.
But they also played the marcan drums and the fiddle, linked arms, and danced. As Ahsoka watched, some of it was achingly familiar; she could catch a whiff of the archaic lightsaber forms in the side-by-side, two-lined dances the townspeople performed. But there was something much more carefree about their movements, as though their joints were unhinged while their limbs dangled gleefully with their grins all toothy and wide.
At first, Ahsoka stayed put next to Rex, watching rather than participating. Hestu had already disappeared into the throng of dancers, taking a squealing Hedala and an embarrassed Chenna with him. Banji had finally managed to drag Kolvin into it as well, though Ahsoka felt his change of heart had more to do with how many times Banji told him he was "being a weenie" more than anything else. Vartan and Luda danced as well, swinging to a rhythm practiced for decades, their hands clasped together with his arm wrapped rightfully around her waist and hers tight across his neck. They were lost in each other's gazes, smiling as they danced as one under the stars.
Eventually, Banji came back to beg Ahsoka and Rex to join them, quite unsuccessfully, Hedala at her heels. Rex remained rigid in his position not to dance, but ultimately, and much to the joy of the girls and the amusement of Rex, Ahsoka started to crack. With triumphant cheers, the girls dragged her out by her elbow to the wobbly circle of dancers.
Around them, the music and thrill of the night rang in the air, bouncing off the stars as it tinkled around stomping feet and clapping hands. Hedala giggled at Ahsoka's awkwardness while Banji promised her that dancing was fun, even if it looked a little funny.
At first, Ahsoka struggled to let go of the stiff, pinned movements of the dance she'd been raised in, of kyber crystals and saber hilts, of marble temple walls and meditated postures. But slowly, very slowly, she eased into their liquid movements, her spine uncoiling and her narrow hips swaying to the thrum of the melody, her palms clammy and wrapped tight around the tiny ones of Banji and Hedala.
It was a bubbling, prickling feeling of excitement and bliss that she knew she hadn't felt in years.
In her heart, it just felt right. In the tipsy, candle-lit dancers around her, the Force sang.
Ahsoka danced her way from circle to circle, clutching the hands of dozens of strangers and twirling under the arms of shadows. Surrounding her like an unseen cloak, laughter and smiles rang all around like the Temple bells on a holy morning. She jumped and she skipped and she dipped and she spun, like a leaf let loose in the wind, whirling in and among the branches, brushing the ground but never quite touching it.
After what felt like minutes but easily could've been hours, Ahsoka reluctantly fell out of step for a much-needed break. She staggered her way back over to Rex, who remained not-dancing next to Kolvin's dozing mother, a recently-retired Vartan and Luda, Kolvin, and Chenna, who were deep into people-watching the crowd.
Breathless and sticky with sweat, she leaned in close to Rex. She pressed a palm against his shoulder, sagging her weight into his. Her nose got dangerously close to his chin. She hated the air that was between them.
"Rex," she gasped, "you've got to try dancing."
"Not a chance."
There was a spark in the deep amber of his eyes that hadn't been there before, something like a want, or a need, something that made her insides feel all twisty and tingly and excited.
"Banji will call you a weenie," she teased. A trace of challenged glistened in her voice, daring of something more than just dancing. Her arm twined its way up his chest and around his shoulders. Her fingertips tapped to the rhythm of the music on the nape of his neck.
"Maybe I am a weenie."
"Now, that's not the Rex I know."
"Then maybe you've got him all wrong," he said, and suddenly, his voice was a deep and husky growl that burned like embers and set fire to her belly.
His fingers hooked into her beltloops and he tugged her forward by her hips, drawing her even closer, so close that her chest was pressed against his and she could feel his heartbeat on her own. As if surprised by his own actions, his face went crimson and his knuckles went slack as though to meant let her go. But Ahsoka would have none of that. She fisted a hand into his shirt and dared him with her eyes to even think about trying it.
She looked up at him with desire dripping off her tongue. "Are you so sure about that?"
Her head was spinning, and she wasn't quite sure what she was doing, and it was clear he wasn't, either, and she couldn't help but remember with itching embarrassment how absolutely sweaty and sticky and gross she still was from the dancing. But a devious smirk pulled at the corners of her soft, dark lips, and she just wanted him closer, closer, and this must've been what it felt like to be half of a whole, because her entire body was trembling with want. She pressed her thigh harder against his leg.
In the corner of her eye, she could see Luda's smug grin and hear Vartan's knowing chuckle. She could see Banji making a face, too, something funny with her eyes criss-crossed and her tongue sticking out in disgust.
Rex let out a held breath, bringing her back to him. She melted into the way she felt his fingers spread across her hips and squeeze. She heard her name in his voice, but she knew he never said her real name in public, and it was so hushed and so quiet that she was sure it was just the late-night wind. But then he took her chin in his fingers and drew her so close that his lips brushed against her montral.
He said her name, breath hot on her cheek, and she felt like she'd lost her ability to breathe.
"Ahsoka."
His hand traced its way from her chin to her neck, to her collarbone to her lekku, to the side of her chest, to the small of her back, fingers dipping a bit lower, wrinkling into the fabric of her tunic, sending chills tingling like stars across her sienna skin the entire way down. Her breath hitched in her throat and she visibly shuddered, biting down on her lip, feeling like her chest was full of fireworks and blast charges and she was certain she was going to explode if he just flipped the switch.
Then his other hand was cupping her face, bringing her back to see him once more. His knuckles grazed against her cheekbone and his thumb brushed against her lips.
She was caught. She was lost, drowning in this pool of browned amber and gold, of drizzled honey and gilded sunshine, swirling with warmth and tenderness and want and need and love. Something so lost to her up until that moment, something that been missing, was right there in front of her, staring at her and touching her lips and saying her name.
Rex, she thought, Rex, Rex, Rex.
She was trapped. She was still drowning.
And then, slowly, he tilted his head towards hers. He pulled her closer, closer, his fingers feather-light against her jaw and sinking into her waist, and she let him. Her eyes fluttered close and she felt a wanting breath escape his lips.
In a sweeping movement, he kissed her.
Gentle, at first, almost hesitant, but then they sank into the touch, let their lips press into each others.
Ahsoka leaned back, sucked in a breath, let her eyes flare open. Then she crashed into him with full force.
It was a battle, push and pull, like a surge of waves in an ocean; his hands grabbing at her sides, fingertips flickering across her neck, palm pressed against her, and she leaned into the movement, ached as though his touch burned her with a delight that she craved. She whispered his name in between breaths, as though she couldn't get it through her head that he was real and this was happening and he was still here, she hadn't lost him. And she wouldn't. He'd always be there.
They kissed, harder, hungry and desperate and needing more. His eyes met hers for a moment and she glimpsed a flicker of desire in a sea of gold.
She was still sticky with sweat and she knew she had pit stains, and dammit she knew Luda would never let her hear the end of this later, and this definitely wasn't helping her case in telling them that she and Rex weren't together, but she didn't care. She fisted her knuckles into his not-blond hair and dragged him down closer, closer, closer, demanding his touch.
Rex caved and grunted as his hands came back up to cup her face, thumbs caressing the arcs of white on her cheeks, lifting her to her toes so that he could kiss her, properly, at the right damn angle.
She let him for a moment before yanking his arm back to her hip and pressing her tongue against his lips.
It was everything. He was everything.
Then there was a scream.
Rex lurched backwards and Ahsoka whirled around, her stomach heaving as everything warm and igniting inside of her was replaced with hazy confusion and firey dread.
"It's this one, I swear it! This is the force-wielding brat I told you about!"
She took up a fighting stance, dazed with vision blurred as she swung her head around the clearing to search wildly for them, whoever it was, whoever had found her out, who had ruined everything, who had spilled her secret, spoken her death sentence.
In the corner of her eye, she glimpsed white. There was another scream, this one more of a wail, and Ahsoka whipped her head to face it.
When her eyes met the storm troopers, her heart stopped.
Behind her, Banji shrieked.
"Hedala!"
The troopers were reaching for her, grabbing her tiny wrists and yanking her to a standstill. She writhed and thrashed and cried out, innocent eyes wide and terrified. A few steps away stood Tibbola, drunk, sadistic, and jabbing a wobbly, gnarled finger in the child's direction.
Before Ahsoka could act, before she could do or say or think anything, Vartan appeared. He charged up to the storm trooper—troopers, there were at least six—and demanded to know what was going on.
"All force-sensitives are to be brought to Coruscant, under order of the Emperor," one trooper replied. Ahsoka was still shaking.
Vartan snarled. "She's just a child!"
"All force-sensitives are to be brought to Coruscant, under order of the Emperor," he repeated rigidly. Then added, almost derisively, "immediately."
Ahsoka didn't even have time to blink before everything went to hell.
Vartan's hand flashed to under his coat. The trooper was fast, but not as fast, and his blaster rifle was much bulkier than Vartan's pistol.
Then a shot sounded in the air and chaos erupted.
There were bullets. Screams, running. Dust clouded in the air from stampeding feet that had abruptly stopped dancing. Someone knocked over a candle and the hanging ribbons caught fire.
Before Ahsoka realized, she had thrown herself at the nearest trooper and started throwing punches and kicks. It took him off guard and he poorly tried to dodge her blows. Her fist landed on the black cloth between his chest plate and shoulder pauldron, sending him stumbling, and she gave him half a second before spinning on her heel and roundhouse kicking him in the jaw.
He fell to the ground, and she moved on to the next one.
It was mechanical. Her training pulsed through her, everything Anakin had ever taught her, and she took down one after another after another. A well-placed strike to the head. A sweeping out of her leg knocking them off their feet. A front flip and then a knee to the groin.
Beside her, she saw Kolvin aiming his blaster at a nearby trooper. Chenna ducked behind him, aiming hers as well, something Ahsoka didn't even realize she had, but she couldn't dwell on it before another trooper came at her and her attention was diverted.
She heard more than saw Hestu roaring in the throng of fighting, and a moment later, she saw him push a trooper to the ground using only his brute strength and sheer size.
There must have been reinforcements. There must have been more troopers. They must have been nearby, because now they were all there.
Somewhere, lost in the crowd, she heard a voice that she thought might be Vartan's call out.
"Now, Rex, now!"
And like an awful, horrible groan of death, explosions rang out in the distance.
Stunned, the chaos came to a standstill. Fighting villagers looked up in fear, even the ones who had known. Cowering children clamped hands over their ears. Shooting storm troopers went rigid with surprise.
And for a moment, Ahsoka breathed, because this was all going to work and the troopers would run to the explosions and they could grab Hedala and escape to their refuge in the caves.
But it didn't.
Someone fired a blaster, and the staggering thrall of violence continued.
With a battle cry full of fury and horror, Ahsoka pushed on. She fought. She fought and she ran and she clawed and she bled, desperately scanning the clearing for a sign of anyone, to make sure they were okay, that no one was hurt, no one was getting dragged away, no one was dying under her watch.
Blood crashed like a tidal wave through her body, about to burst out of her skin. She sprung back in the air, dodging blaster fire in a weightless arc, but a blast grazed her shoulder and sent her tumbling to the ground. She managed to get out of the dirt and on her feet just in time to avoid the next round of fire, aimed at her heart, and she threw herself to the right. She sprinted in a dance around the trooper, dizzying him and herself, but at least she knew what she was doing. She was trained for this. She was raised for this.
She leaped, letting the wind carry her, and landed on a hand and two feet a breath away from the trooper. Before he could re-adjust his blaster, she swung out low with a leg and knocked him to the ground. She pounced, snatched up his blaster, and put a well-aimed shot to his leg.
He cried out and she turned away.
In the blur of chaos, Ahsoka paused for the only moment she could grab to look for Hedala. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, and she became all too aware of the blood rushing through her veins. Like the dancing, she was sticky with sweat, but this was mixed with dirt and blood and grime. She tasted it, bitter and metallic, in her mouth, felt it trickling down her shoulder from the blaster, felt sweat rolling down her spine. Felt every swollen bruise building in her bones.
But Ahsoka didn't have time for this. She stumbled dazedly to a halt, searched the clearing with desperate eyes. There was smoke, flames. Blasters. A painting of white plastoid and dull colors whirling about in the chaos.
She couldn't see Hedala. Her screams were drowned out and Ahsoka couldn't find her.
Out of nowhere, someone shoved her, and she was sent flying to the ground elbows-first. Something heavy landed on her a heartbeat later, crushing her to the dirt and knocking the air out of her lungs. The weight disappeared and she rolled onto her back, gasping relentlessly for air she couldn't get. In the corner of her eye, she saw Rex staggering to his feet.
He must have pushed her. He landed on her. What bullet did she miss?
She watched as he took up a defensive stance to face the trooper shooting at them. He reached for his blaster, but it wasn't there.
Ahsoka felt something shaped like a decee pressed under her thigh.
Rex didn't have time to waste. He lunged for a beer bottle on a nearby table and, with a shout, grabbed it and whirled, smashing it into the weak spot on trooper's cloth-covered neck.
The bottle shattered and the trooper tottered backwards, legs wobbling. His blaster clattered to the ground and a gloved hand flew to his neck. Crimson pooled in the cracks of his black-leather fingers and dribbled down his knuckles.
He collapsed to the ground.
Head reeling, Ahsoka dragged herself onto her stomach, fighting every urge to wretch onto the ground and failing. Coughing and spluttering the contents of her stomach, she wiped the sick off her mouth with the back of her hand and pushed herself to her knees, then unsteadily to her feet.
She turned to shout something at Rex, she didn't know what, but maybe something like thank you, or your blaster is here, or I love you, but he was gone, and so was the decee. He'd disappeared into the smoke storm of battle. Something she'd seen him do for years on end, something once so natural, but this time, it was infinitely more terrifying.
Trembling, Ahsoka stared at the clearing. She gave herself two seconds and before throwing herself back into the fight.
One, two.
At some point, lost in the chaos of fire and shots and striking, she saw Hedala. The troopers maintained an iron grip around her tiny wrists.
She took a step forward, ready to pummel them to the ground or kick them to oblivion, but as always, Vartan was one step ahead of her. He charged the troopers, arms outstretched and blaster aimed.
Then there was a shot and his body was sent staggering backwards.
With blurred vision, Ahsoka watched him fall to the ground. She stared with rippling horror as he did not get up. She felt more than heard Luda's bleeding shriek. Her body was numb as sheer dread stilled her body in a curse, swaying on shaking legs.
She had to get to Vartan. She had to get him on his feet.
She teetered and wobbled as she lurched in his direction. But her foot tripped on something lumpy and she toppled to the ground, just barely catching herself on weak elbows as she scraped them to the bone. Ignoring the stinging of fresh wounds, she tried to yank her foot out from under whatever it was, but it stayed stuck. She whipped her head around to find the problem.
Chenna's lifeless body stared back at her, gaze dull and sightless and full of stars.
Ahsoka's blood withered and she choked.
Her arm lay twisted out, knuckles bruised and fingernails bloodied, palm stretched towards where Hedala struggled, as though even in death, she wouldn't let anyone take her little sister away.
Enough, Ahsoka decided.
Enough.
She rose to her feet. In the ashes, she saw Hedala, and clarity struck her like lightning.
She reached out to the Force, felt it spark in her blood. Felt it bleed in the very fibers of the air and the earth and the sky around her.
She let it course through her veins. In one movement, she let its power surge.
The storm troopers went flying.
It happened all in an instant. The smoke was pushed out of the small little clearing, forming an unearthly dome and leaving a still, silent scene of destruction scattered with licking flames and a crystal night sky. It was unreal, as though time itself had grinded to a halt. The troopers were strewn across the ground. They did not get back up. Hedala sprawled, free, on the dirt. Ahsoka's breath caught in her throat.
Then the little girl flinched, pushed herself to her elbows.
Across the way, Ahsoka met Rex's gaze. Warm brown trickled a sanctuary into her stormy sea of blue and she felt an overwhelming, brilliant, tearful sense of relief.
He dropped his blaster took a limping step towards her. He stretched out his arms, reaching for her, and started to run.
Then his eyes went wide with horror and his shout carried through the air with her name—her real name— on his tongue.
Pain, sharp and harrowing, struck her skull.
She saw stars. A dizzying, inky darkness flooded her vision.
In a deep and forgotten cavern of her mind, she heard Anakin's voice.
"Ahsoka."
And then all she saw was black.