"Updates on the districts?"
Satine passed along her touchscreen. She stared up at the television screen sitting in front of her. Kept her hands stiff at her sides as she watched the cluster of tributes scramble around the edge of the volcano.
"You're displeased," Qui-Gon said.
"We should have moved by now," Satine replied. She nodded to the screen. The girl from District 11 was pulling herself out from under District 8's body. "There's only a few of them left. Why are we waiting?"
"We need to be sure," Qui-Gon said. "If the others…"
"The others will pull through," Rex said determinedly. "You'll see."
"And I don't doubt that," Satine said, "but it's…" She gestured to the screen. "There's only four of them left."
"They'll pull through," Padmé said. "I know they will."
They were all quiet.
And then Ventress said, "Are you sure about that, sweetheart?"
They all looked to the screen again.
Anakin didn't know what he was doing.
That was the worst part, he realized.
The smoke stung his eyes, and his lungs felt too tight and not right, and he couldn't really hear what was going on around him. He could hear his own breaths, though. Hear his breaths and the distant clash of sword on sword. Someone shouting—shouting his name, maybe? He wasn't sure of that either.
And he saw blue eyes. Maybe blue eyes. Blue-grey, oddly familiar. Anakin remembered seeing a pair of eyes like those one before, only that had been a long, long time ago, back when he had been…standing on something. A chariot. He remembered a chariot, and he remembered lighting up.
He was lighting up now, Anakin realized. That was why his eyes were stinging—not just from the smoke, but from the flames that were creeping up around him. He was dully aware of some pain licking at his ankle—but then Anakin rolled over, stamped the flame out.
"Get away!"
Anakin looked up to find the owner of those blue-grey eyes. A face was swimming in front of him, a familiar face with eyebrows drawn in both anger and something that might have resembled sadness. But those words hadn't meant for Anakin, he realized. They had been meant for someone else, who Anakin could see hovering behind now—a girl.
She was familiar, too.
"It's not him!" the girl shouted. "We don't have to—"
But it didn't matter if they didn't have to—Anakin had to.
He surged up, heard the girl's yell of warning.
The person in front of Anakin spun back around, caught his blade. Shoved Anakin away, and Anakin nearly toppled over the edge of—oh, so that was the volcano. That was the lava spitting up at him and the fire starting around his feet. He didn't want to get in there.
Anakin snarled, looking back at his attacker.
"Anakin," his attacker said now, panting slightly, "if you're in there at all, please—"
Anakin launched himself forward.
"You don't want to do this," his opponent said through gritted teeth. Good. Gritted teeth meant concentrating, and concentrating meant that Anakin was forcing him to concentrate, and if Anakin was forcing him to concentrate, then Anakin must have had the advantage some way or another—
Anakin pressed forward. "I do," he said. "I do."
His opponent's face faltered.
Anakin took the moment to swing his leg around, kick as hard as he could.
This time, his opponent staggered backwards, crashed right into the girl behind him.
They both struggled upwards, and this time, when Anakin advanced, it was the girl who stepped up first.
"Anakin," the girl said. "It's us. Okay?"
"Ahsoka, get back—"
"It's him," the girl said determinedly. "Anakin?" She had knives at her sides, but Anakin noticed she didn't reach for them.
She could reach for them. She should reach for them.
Anakin steeled himself. She should reach for them.
He brought the sword down, and then in a flash, the girl had both her knives up, blocking the blow in a tight X. She slid from underneath, and then she was behind Anakin.
Anakin spun around, already lifting his sword to block a blow, but it never came. The girl just hovered on the rock, the expression on her face fierce and still locked in that ever-determined glower. "Anakin," she said again. "We've almost made it. Okay? So if you would just—"
Anakin's head hurt. She shouldn't be talking. Why was she still talking—
Anakin lunged forward, and the girl skittered out of the way. She scrambled up the ledge of the volcano—a dangerous place to be for someone so small and light, but if she was willing to take her chances, then so was Anakin. He started to go up, but then he heard the whistle of something sharp coming his way, and—
He turned around, clashed against the other opponent—the young man, the one with the blue-grey eyes. Their swords hit each other's with a strike hard enough to send vibrations up Anakin's arm, but he didn't care.
His opponent pressed forward, causing Anakin to grind his feet deeper into the rocky soil. Ash and sweat streaked his opponent's face, but besides that, there was nothing weary or tired in his stance, his movements. This person wasn't going to back down, and neither was Anakin.
With a frustrated growl, Anakin shoved back against his opponent again. This time, his opponent anticipated it. He side-stepped, and Anakin staggered forward. He spun back around.
His opponent was panting slightly, but he held his sword high and ready, his eyes ever so focused on Anakin.
Anakin's head hurt again. It throbbed once, pulsed right behind his eyes, and for a moment, Anakin could just stare—but then he was back, he was back, and he had his sword in his hand, and he wasn't going to let anyone cut him down—not before Anakin cut down his opponent first.
He ran forward, but at the last second, his opponent stuck out his foot, and Anakin tripped forward. He swallowed dirt and ash and felt something sharp cut at his face, but he didn't care. He rolled over on his back, brought up his sword before he could get the blade to his face.
"Feel like fighting now?" Anakin whispered.
"No," his opponent replied, and he sounded sorry.
That made Anakin angry.
He brought up his leg, kicked his opponent back.
His opponent slipped backwards, just as Anakin had wanted, but before he could strike, there was another blur of black and silver, and then the girl was standing in front of him again—no, not just standing in front of him, but standing between Anakin and his opponent.
Breathing hard, both her hands wrapped around her knives, the girl snarled, "Don't."
Ahsoka hated this.
She hated everything. She hated the games, and she hated that she was born in a time and in a country where there were such thing as the games, and she hated the fact that she was in this arena, and she hated the fact that there were only four people left, and she hated that she was fighting Anakin, and she hated that she knew that this was how the games were supposed to be—this was how the games were always supposed to be, and she hated that she knew that somewhere, her dad and her brothers might even be rooting for her to get out alive, and she hated that getting out alive might mean that she might have to drive her knife through another person.
Killing the boy from District 10 hadn't been easy. Ahsoka had hated it, in the end. She had hated feeling the blood on her hands, and she hated seeing the light go out from his eyes, even if he had been the one trying to hunt her down first.
And killing Barriss—
Ahsoka was done with killing people today.
And the worst part—the worst part was that Ahsoka was almost certain that Barriss hadn't known what she was doing. Because when Barriss had looked at her, Ahsoka had seen a kind of blankness that she saw overtaking Anakin's eyes now.
No more.
Ahsoka spun the knives around in her hands. "Don't," she hissed. "Take one more step—I swear, and…"
Anakin just looked at her with that awful blank blue gaze. "Or?"
"Or…" Ahsoka didn't have anything.
"You'll hate yourself," Ahsoka finally said. 'You'll hate yourself in the end—because they all hate themselves in the end, but you'll hate yourself the most." She steeled herself, considered lifting her knives higher. Instead, she lowered the knives. "So don't. Please."
For a moment, Ahsoka could have sworn she saw something flicker across Anakin's face—something, anything. But maybe that was just the embers of the fires, or maybe that was just the passing clouds of ash, because in another instant, Anakin's face was blank again, and he had drawn his sword.
"Okay," Ahsoka said, her heart sinking, "fine."
She rushed forward to block Anakin's attack, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Obi-Wan already skirting around. Trying to get Anakin's other side—and for a moment, Ahsoka hated that too. She hated that she both wanted and didn't want this all to be over, because if this was over, then that meant that one of them had died—but in the end, two of them were supposed to die anyways. Well, no. Three of them were supposed to die—but Ahsoka didn't even know where the last tribute was—the boy, Ahsoka remembered. Some small boy who could be anywhere. Hiding in the trees, maybe already hiding out on the Cornucopia.
Ahsoka almost started laughing at that. Someone winning the games because he had just been hiding out during the actual bloodshed…
She shouldn't be laughing.
Ahsoka ducked another blow, and springing off from her rocky perch, Ahsoka kicked at Anakin's chest. He slipped backwards, but only slightly. He was already storming forward, and too late, Ahsoka realized that he was coming in too fast, and Ahsoka had overshot—she had kicked so that she would be closer than she would have liked
Ahsoka ran backwards, feeling along the incline of the volcano. Rocky bits of soil made their way into Ahsoka's boots. Her too loose boots. Ahsoka hated that, too.
She scrambled up to the top of the volcano, felt the heat of the Cornucopia below. If she toppled backwards, she might either hit one of the rocky platforms that had materialized here, or she might hit lava.
Ahsoka didn't bother risking a glance backwards. She didn't have that kind of time, because Anakin was closing in fast.
For a moment, Ahsoka saw herself teetering over the edge of the volcano. She saw herself shooting past Anakin at the last second, letting Anakin fall into the lava below.
And then she imagined standing over the crater as Anakin burned, and that was when she realized that she was already doing everything she could to quickly unravel that image, quickly burn it away, because she didn't want to see it—she couldn't see it—
But Anakin was getting closer now, and Ahsoka was still standing at the edge of the volcano.
Ahsoka blinked. The smoke and the fires were stinging her eyes, and she wondered if in the end, she would turn into Anakin. If she would also lose all control of her thoughts and her movements, and maybe she would wind up attacking Obi-Wan. Or maybe she would just attack whoever was left…
"Come on," Ahsoka said, forcing her voice to be even. "What're you waiting for?"
Anakin climbed up. Closer and closer, his steps came, and Ahsoka, contrary to her previous fight with herself, decided to look down into the crater. She saw the lava bubble down below, felt the heat of the gas that escaped its bubbles. And then she looked at the teleporters—the little bits of rock that had transported herself and all the other tributes into the arena. One of them was shining faintly—but Ahsoka couldn't quite tell if that was just from the light of the fire or maybe just the glimmer of the smoke or something—
Ahsoka spun back around. If she stepped aside now, Anakin would fall into the lava.
Ahsoka stayed.
She stayed even as Anakin brought his sword down on her, and she stayed even as she was forced down to her knees. She looked up at Anakin. He wasn't really looking at her—his eyes were on her, but he wasn't looking at her. She knew that.
Ahsoka reached up. And she found Anakin's wrist—the one that was responsible for the grip on the sword.
"Well?" she asked, even as one of her arms buckled under the now stronger weight of the sword against her knife. "Are you gonna do it?"
Ahsoka tightened her hand around Anakin's wrist. There was no way she could actually twist it or squeeze it hard enough for Anakin to drop the sword, but still, she tried—and she brought her foot up to kick Anakin away when suddenly, in a small voice, Anakin whispered, "Ahsoka?"
Ahsoka stopped.
"Anakin?"
But then that moment was gone, and that strange, cold look replaced Anakin's face, and he was suddenly pressing down with his sword again, and this time, Ahsoka actually did buckle under the sudden weight.
"No—" Ahsoka started, her heart thudding fast in her chest. "Anakin—I heard you—you're still in there—"
"Stop—talking," Anakin gritted out.
"Can't," Ahsoka shot back. And with that, she slid herself underneath Anakin's legs, scrambled up to her feet. She could feel the scrapes and cuts along her back as she spun around. She waited for Anakin to come charging after her, but instead, Obi-Wan was already there, his sword pushing against Anakin's.
"He was there," Ahsoka called. "Obi-Wan—I think Anakin's still—"
"Stop talking," Anakin growled, and he was breaking away from Obi-Wan, running down to Ahsoka—
Ahsoka started to lift her knives back up, but then she watched, both stunned and horrified, as Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin back.
For a moment, the two tottered over the edge of the volcano, their hands blindly gripping at each other's, twisting and turning, and Ahsoka thought they were both going to go over—and she started forward a step, then two, then three, and—
A burst of lava spat itself up from the crater, and both Anakin and Obi-Wan lit up in its glow.
And Ahsoka watched then as Obi-Wan's lips moved to say something—and she couldn't quite make out what he had said, or what he had meant to say, but then their hands were slipping away from each other, and—
Anakin fell over the edge first.
Ahsoka screamed—she hadn't meant to, but it came out, and for a moment, Obi-Wan looked like he was going to topple right after him, but—
She heard Obi-Wan's shout, and when she rushed up, she found Obi-Wan leaning over the edge, his arm extended—
And Ahsoka ran up to find Obi-Wan still holding onto Anakin.
Obi-Wan knew that he should let go.
He should let go—that was what he was supposed to do. That was how the games worked.
And yet he kept his hand wrapped around Anakin's wrist, and he knew that he wasn't about to let go.
His arm screamed in protest, and he was tired—everything in him was tired, and yet he still held on. Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin, found his face already clearing.
And then Anakin whispered, "I don't think…"
"I've got you," Obi-Wan replied evenly. As evenly as he could, even with his straining arm. "Anakin. We're coming back up."
Anakin only craned his neck, and Obi-Wan swore under his breath, dropping his sword and using his other hand to secure his grip on Anakin. "Stay still, otherwise I'll—"
But Anakin looked back at Obi-Wan, and this time, his eyes were completely clear. Back to the Anakin that Obi-Wan knew and had gotten to know over the course of…he didn't even know anymore. He didn't care.
"You know," Anakin said, and though he spoke quietly, Obi-Wan could still somehow hear him even over the roar of the lava. "This feels…kind of fitting." He craned his head back again, and Obi-Wan felt his fingers slip—just for an instance, but it was enough for his blood to run cold.
"Anakin, don't—"
"I mean it," Anakin said. "Like…before—the fire—you stopped it, even though you didn't have to. And now we're here…with all of this…" He gestured with a hand, and Anakin swayed dangerously lower.
"Anakin—" Obi-Wan heard the strain in his own voice. "Stop."
"Obi-Wan!"
Obi-Wan turned to find Ahsoka scrambling up to the edge of the volcano. She had cuts all over her face and her wrists, and she had taken off her jacket. Obi-Wan saw the cuts criss-crossing her shoulders, but she didn't seem to notice, not as she dropped to her knees. "Hold on—Anakin, give me your other hand—"
"If I do," Anakin said, "I'll just kill you both."
"Don't be cocky," Ahsoka said, her voice shaking a little. "You weren't gonna kill us. You couldn't stand a chance."
A corner of Anakin's lips twitched—a ghost of the same smile that Obi-Wan had seen Anakin give time and time again. That smile felt suddenly too familiar somehow, and Obi-Wan wished that it hadn't.
"So give me your other hand," Ahsoka said. "Okay? Anakin? Anakin—"
"Listen," Anakin interrupted. "It'll be easier this way, okay? Just—" He stopped. "If you guys see my mom—"
Another cloud of gas burst from one of the lava bubbles, and this time, Obi-Wan's grip slackened. His fingers slipped, and then, just as Anakin was about to slip from under his hands, Obi-Wan held fast again. "Anakin," he said. "This isn't up for discussion. Now stop moving—"
But then another cloud of gas came up from the lava, and Obi-Wan turned his face away, avoiding its sting. He saw Ahsoka do the same, but as he turned, he saw something else—the faintest glimmer of something, and—
The transporters.
Obi-Wan's breath caught.
Obi-Wan turned back to the gas. And there—through the gas, he saw something shine there, too.
Obi-Wan paused. And instead of just looking at the gas, he saw through it—and there, at the other end of the Cornucopia, he saw a small figure dart down to one of the transporters. A boy. The only other tribute left in the arena.
The boy lifted his head.
Another cloud of gas, and when Obi-Wan blinked, the boy was gone.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered. "There's a way."
"See, you keep saying that, but I'm trying to be very dramatic and self-sacrificial here, so if you could just—"
"No," Obi-Wan interrupted, looking down at Anakin. "There's a way." He couldn't trust himself to say anything else. The Capitol had to be watching—they had to have watched that boy disappear, and yet, nothing happened. No ships came down to snatch them all away, the arena didn't stop.
There was something happening.
"We just have to figure it out," Obi-Wan said. "We can…"
He looked at Ahsoka, who had lifted her head. She was looking across the Cornucopia. She had seen too, he realized.
And then Ahsoka looked at Obi-Wan.
"We can," Ahsoka repeated. She looked down at Anakin. "You're not going to come down to us—we're going to come down to you."
"You're going to push yourself onto that rock," Obi-Wan told Anakin.
Anakin looked to where Obi-Wan was pointing. That wasn't just a rock—that was a transporter—one of the transporters that had brought the tributes up to the surface, but when he turned to say so to Obi-Wan, he found that strange, strange look on Obi-Wan's face that somehow told Anakin to keep quiet. Keep still.
"Guys, this really isn't—"
"Just for once," Obi-Wan said, "listen."
Anakin stopped. There was something oddly desperate in Obi-Wan's voice now: a new kind of desperation that wasn't there just a few minutes ago. He looked at Ahsoka who was also standing very, very still.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan said sharply. "Do you understand what you have to do?"
Anakin looked at their hands. Obi-Wan still had a tight grip on Anakin, and he had a sudden feeling that Obi-Wan wasn't going to let go unless Anakin gave his absolute word.
"What are you doing?" Anakin asked.
"You'll understand," Obi-Wan replied. "Just—you have to trust me."
Anakin stared.
"Well?" Obi-Wan asked. "Do you trust me?"
He really, really shouldn't.
Anakin nodded.
"Good. Now one…two…"
When Obi-Wan let go of Anakin's hand, he pushed himself off the edge and—
He hit the transporter with a loud thump. Anakin felt something tear at his stomach, knew that there were probably cuts and scrapes there, but he wasn't swimming in lava, so he supposed that was a start. He slowly stood up on the transporter and turned around to see Ahsoka steady herself against the edge, and then she leapt off.
Anakin backed away a half-step, already reaching out to grab Ahsoka in case she slipped, but she landed nimbly next to Anakin. Now there was only just barely enough space for—
Obi-Wan came flying forward a moment later.
"What now?" Anakin asked.
Obi-Wan dropped to his knees. "The other tribute," he said, his voice low. "Ahsoka and I saw him disappear through the transporter."
Anakin blinked. "What do you mean, disappear—"
"He disappeared," Ahsoka said. "Meaning he might have just gone out of the arena."
"How do you know he didn't show up at a different part of the arena?" Anakin asked.
"Think about it," Obi-Wan said. "He's young, and he's small. By all accounts, he should have been one of the first to die. He didn't have any weapons—he must have hid somehow. And if our theory is correct…"
Anakin looked down. The transporter was shining just faintly, and for a moment, Anakin remembered the steam from before—how that had shimmered too, and not in a way that had been normal. And he wondered…could they have always left the arena?
"Did you know about this?" Anakin asked in a low voice.
Obi-Wan's head snapped up. "What are you talking about?"
"Did you know," Anakin repeated.
"We just thought about the transporter now," Ahsoka said impatiently. "Anakin, help us figure this out—"
"Before," Anakin started, "with Maul—when the snow started melting—you knew something was happening."
"The snow?" Ahsoka asked, confused.
They both looked at Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan looked at them. "Now?" he asked, exasperated. "You want to discuss this now?"
"So there's something to discuss?"
"There's something to fix first," Obi-Wan said sharply. "The transporter isn't working."
Before any of them could react, there was a sudden boom, and then darkness—and at first, Anakin thought that the arena had erupted, but no—he heard the shriek of wind, and when he looked up, he found—
"Uh," Ahsoka said, her voice pitched, "I think the Capitol knows what we're doing."
Anakin and Obi-Wan swore.
"You said that the kid managed to get out?" Anakin asked, looking at Obi-Wan.
"Yes, but—"
"It's because we're all standing on this damn thing," Anakin said. "Think about it. This works like a pressure plate, right? I mean, it's a transporter, but that's got to be the only way. We're too heavy."
"So—"
"So we have to do this one at a time," Anakin said hurriedly.
"The other transporters—"
Anakin looked. The lights had died from the others. Some were still flickering, flickering, flickering—and then—but the one they were standing on remained alive.
"I don't think that's an option," Anakin said.
"Right," Obi-Wan said. "Ahsoka, you're going first."
Ahsoka's face fell. She looked up at the Capitol's pod, which was looming closer. "What about—"
"Don't argue," Anakin snapped. "The longer we stick around here, the less time we have to get out of here."
Ahsoka stared. And then, with a sharp nod, she said, "You two better come back."
Anakin's throat closed. "See you in a second, Snips."
And then both Anakin and Obi-Wan leapt away from the transporter.
"Alright," Obi-Wan said when Ahsoka vanished. "Anakin, now you."
"If you really think that—"
"Yes," Obi-Wan said roughly, grabbing Anakin's arm. "I really do think. So stop arguing with me and just go." The pod above them was beating down now, hard enough for Obi-Wan to actually hear the thrum of the mechanisms working within. He didn't dare look up.
He started to push Anakin forward, but before he could, something shot down from the pod.
Both Obi-Wan and Anakin leapt backwards to avoid the metal claw that came down.
"I think," Obi-Wan panted, struggling up to his feet, "we're running out of time."
"I think so too," Anakin replied. They stared at the transporter they had just been standing on a moment ago—and when Obi-Wan lifted his head, the pod was already starting to move, already adjusting itself to grab hold of them again.
Obi-Wan looked around. They would have to jump over each of the broken transporters now, probably run in to complete the circle before they could get to the working transporter again—and that was only if the transporter would still be working by the time they got back.
Obi-Wan decided that it would have to work.
"We'll have to go in the other direction," he said.
"You don't mean—"
"Try not to fall in the lava," Obi-Wan said, looking down at the sea of red and orange and black below. "I'll do my best to catch you, but I think falling might just slow us down."
Anakin's face was lit up by the flames. "I'll try," he replied.
There was another crushing sound—but Obi-Wan didn't bother turning around to see what the commotion was. He pushed Anakin forward, and then the two were off.
Obi-Wan felt the transport crumble beneath him just as his foot left the surface—felt the sudden whip of air and flames around him as he guessed the claw had come so narrowly closed around him. Ahead of him, Anakin jumped from transport to transport.
They would make it.
They had to make it.
Obi-Wan leapt forward just as the claw came dangerously close again. And then the shadow looming over them started to move, and Obi-Wan saw a part of the pod shifting again: they were going to try to close in from the other side, Obi-Wan realized.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan started, but Anakin had gotten the hint. They picked up the pace—Anakin would jump onto another transport just as Obi-Wan landed. They'd only pause for a second—less than a second, before they'd be off again, and up ahead, Obi-Wan could see that the working transport was still flickering, still waiting for them.
Obi-Wan risked a glance upwards. The pod was closing down on them now, and then—
He slipped. He hadn't meant to, but before he could fall, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and yank him back.
"Pay attention," Anakin said, and he was smirking a little, but Obi-Wan knew that they were both running out of time—
They were running out of time.
Obi-Wan looked at the transport. It would need a few seconds to recharge in between transporting people. If Anakin went, Obi-Wan would have to wait, and by then, the pod would—
Ah.
Obi-Wan felt oddly calm at the knowledge now.
Pay attention, indeed.
"Go," Obi-Wan managed, letting go of Anakin's hand. "Go."
Anakin paused for another moment, but then he turned and jumped for the last broken transporter. The working one was still flickering.
And then Anakin stopped.
The pod was still bearing down on them.
"What about you?" Anakin asked, turning around. His eyes were wide, brows furrowed. "If I go—"
"There's no time for that," Obi-Wan said sharply. "Go, otherwise we both won't make it."
"No," Anakin said. "There has to be way—we're going to find a way—okay? We're going to find a way."
Ahsoka was going to find a way.
When she materialized into the transporter room, she found Rex and Riyo already waiting for her. She didn't even bother asking questions—didn't bother wondering why it was that there weren't any Capitol people closing in on her.
"They're still in there," Ahsoka said, scrambling to her feet. "We have to get them out."
And to Ahsoka's relief, Rex didn't bother asking any other questions either. He knew, she realized. He knew all along.
"We're going to," Rex said. "But the game makers—we managed to get into the system, but with the other transporters…"
Ahsoka's stomach clenched. "Where," she said.
"They're still in their room—above—"
Ahsoka didn't bother listening to the rest. She dove past Rex and Riyo, her hands already reaching for her knives. She was semi-aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and then she came to a short stop as Ventress stepped out from around the hallway. Ahsoka paused, and for a moment, she wondered if Ventress might—since she was a Capitol person—
Ventress only tugged out twin blades of her own. "Well, sweetheart," she drawled, "tell me you at least have a plan."
Ahsoka's heart thudded. "What about the others? Are Anakin and Obi-Wan's—"
"Damage control," Ventress replied, nodding up the stairs. "They've got their own people to worry about. Turning off the cameras from the rest of the districts isn't an easy task, darling. So we've got to multitask."
Ahsoka nodded. "I can do that," she said. She turned around to find Rex and Riyo standing a little ways behind her. "I might just need a distraction."
Rex and Riyo gave Ahsoka matching wicked smiles.
Ahsoka decided that was enough.
She found herself hiding in the vents a moment later. That felt oddly familiar, even though Ahsoka had never hid in the vents before. But it was simple—just like hiding on the beams of the training room or hiding amongst the branches back home. Ahsoka could hear footsteps below her, the sudden cry of Capitol guards as Rex and Ventress caught them by surprise.
She crept her way forward, and then—below, she saw the game makers. They were moving around quickly, all of them wearing equally panicked and frantic looks as they tried to regain control of whatever was going on in the arena.
Ahsoka smiled grimly to herself.
They wouldn't ever have that control again.
That was what she told herself as she popped open the vent, dropped down right on top of the main controls. Surprised shouts chorused around her, but Ahsoka didn't stop.
"You don't have to do this," she said to the first game maker she saw.
She was met with a hurled fist to the face.
Ahsoka ducked. "Okay," she said. "I get it."
She let her knives fly.
She hated the sounds that people made as they dropped to the floor, their little gasps and cries for help that wouldn't come, and Ahsoka hated that this was what happened in the end.
But at the same time, Ahsoka looked—she turned and looked at the main viewing screen. Found Obi-Wan and Anakin frozen on two separate transports. They were saying something—shouting at each other, she realized, as the last working transport flickered behind them.
Ahsoka didn't have to hear them to know what they were arguing about.
The doors slid open behind her, and Ahsoka whirled around, already reaching for her knives, but it was only Rex and Ventress.
"Well?" Ventress asked. "What are you waiting for?"
Ahsoka turned back around to the controls. Transporters, transporters…she could direct them here—
She slammed her hands down and activated the rest of the transports.
When Anakin and Obi-Wan appeared, Ahsoka was the first to run forward.
"What—"
They both looked lost, hilariously so, and they kept blinking—probably at the brightness of the game makers' room, but that didn't matter in the end, because Ahsoka was there to guide them away from the transports. Their hands were cold, even despite the fact that they had been standing in a literal volcano—hands cold, and when Ahsoka flung her arms around both Obi-Wan and Anakin's necks, she realized that they were shaking.
And then she felt arms cling tightly around her shoulders—Anakin and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, as it should be.
Anakin didn't really remember the rest. Just that they had all been led away to some place, and Anakin remembered seeing a few semi-familiar faces before sinking into sleep. He remembered hearing people talking above him, and he remembered feeling something sting at his wrist, and he realized dimly that that was the tracking device that all tributes had worn before going into the arena—and that was being taken out now, huh—
And he remembered feeling someone's hand brush back his hair, and that hand felt oddly familiar, and he remembered feeling warmth gather behind his eyes, but he couldn't quite understand why.
He wasn't sure how long he had stayed asleep either—not until Anakin opened his eyes.
At first, all he could see were white lights and glass walls.
And then he heard a quiet intake of breath—and when Anakin turned, he saw—
"Mom?"
Anakin's voice came out too small, but his mom heard him.
Anakin buried his face into his mom's shoulder a moment later.
Ahsoka was awake the whole time. She remembered being led away into a pod—a bit like the Capitol's, and yet not—and then they were taking off into the air, and an hour later, there was only darkness. Some place underground, that was what Rex said they were.
And at first, Ahsoka couldn't see anything. She had given up trying to wake Anakin and Obi-Wan—and she had been the first one to walk out into the hallway.
She found her dad first.
She ran straight into his arms, and then she heard her brothers' laughter, and there was nothing but warm arms wrapped around her.
She looked over her dad's shoulder once to see Rex and Obi-Wan's stylist—Cody—hovering a little way away, wearing smiles that were similar and yet not the same. Rex gave her a little nod, and Ahsoka nodded back.
When Obi-Wan awoke, Qui-Gon was already waiting for him.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
And then Qui-Gon lowered himself on the bed. The mattress dipped and squeaked a little under the sudden weight, but Obi-Wan didn't mind. He sat up slowly. Waited.
And then Obi-Wan asked quietly, "Are they all…"
"They're safe," Qui-Gon replied. "Thanks to you. You did well."
You did well. Obi-Wan only shifted against the bed.
And then he nodded.
And after a while, he asked, "Did you know? From the start?"
Qui-Gon paused.
"When you decided that I would be in the games," Obi-Wan said slowly. "Did you already know how it would end?"
"I wasn't entirely sure," Qui-Gon replied quietly. "We had some time to plan and prepare, but—we gambled. Hoped for the odds to turn in our favor."
Obi-Wan stared down at his lap.
"Why now?" he asked at last.
Qui-Gon only looked at Obi-Wan. "Would you rather it wasn't now?"
Obi-Wan tried to imagine someone else in his place. Someone else who would have gone into the arena and come out victorious—no, not victorious. But just a repeat of the last year's games, and the year before that, and the year before that. Alone, standing on top a pile of corpses.
"No," Obi-Wan replied honestly.
They were quiet again.
"The others…there was a boy—"
"Yes, Caleb." Qui-Gon's eyes wrinkled briefly. "He's bright. And Mace Windu and Depa Billaba are rather fond of the boy."
"So there was one other," Obi-Wan said. He looked around the room for something else to concentrate on. "Why not all of them? Or the others?"
Another pause. This one more pained, and when Obi-Wan looked, he only saw shadows on his father's face.
"There are still games to play," Qui-Gon said at last.
Obi-Wan let those words sink in.
"So what now?" he asked. His throat hurt, whether from all the time in the arena or something else, he wasn't sure.
"Now." Qui-Gon let out a breath. "Now, we start playing the games on our terms."
But before our heroes could start playing the games—the real games, a moment of reprieve:
Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka stepped out of their respective rooms in the end. They were tired and worn and frankly, their heads were all still reeling from the fact that, in the end, they had been pulled from the arena in order to end the tradition of the games once and for all.
But in that dark underground space, they found each other.
Hands fumbling a little in the dark, their faces lit only by the dimmest of lights, they found each other and waited.
Let the games begin, they thought.
A/N: thank you all so, so, so much for the support of this fic! i was rather nervous posting this fic at first, because i hadn't ever written a hunger games/tcw au before-and quite frankly, i don't think i've ever re-translated tcw into another franchise before...so this was a bit of a challenge for me. i wanted to make sure that i was still doing the characters justice, but still tweaking them just enough so that they could fit in this new environment.
i've loved all your support so much, and i'm so grateful that so many of you followed along with this story, whether you found it when i posted chapter one or just a few minutes ago. thank you, thank you, thank you! 3