Merth
Ventress's "cantina" was little more than a knee-high table and a half-dozen bottles in the alley between a second-hand clothes shop and a grocery store. The middle-aged woman who ran the table produced two kneeling cushions for the bounty-hunting duo.
As Ahsoka approached, she felt a wave of warmth wash over her, chasing away the winter night's chill. She suspected there was a heating sphere hidden under the table. Little though she actually wanted to spend more time with Ventress at the moment, given her shame at her too-honest outburst, the prospect of a drink sounded like precisely the right kind of rebellion for the moment. The Jedi Order did not specifically forbid the consumption of alcohol (a loophole that Ahsoka suspected was championed by Obi-Wan), but its presence was forbidden in the temple. The force made her kill someone on accident, so she'd drink on purpose. Perhaps that wasn't a logical progression, but now hardly seemed the time for introspection. She knelt gracefully and properly on the cushion.
Ventress plopped down next to her. "I'll take two shots of your strongest," she said.
"And I'll take that one," Ahsoka said, picking a bottle at random.
The woman looked Ahsoka up and down, "Aren't you a little short for a Stürm Topper?"
"Ha, you should take the night off, Sil." A ruddy faced old man waddled towards the table. He waved off her protests before Sil could voice them, "I know, it's been ages, it will be wonderful to catch up tomorrow. But right now you need sleep, my girl. Don't fret, I'll keep your customers company. Shoo, shoo."
Sil made no protest and left the table's warmth.
"I am sorry to interrupt like that," the old man said. "But I shall strive to be a joy in this night's conversations."
"Don't bother," Ventress said. "We're here for drinks, not gossip."
"Oh, of course!" The man clapped a fat, dramatic hand to his forehead. "Ha, I suppose I'm better at drinking than tending a bar. But for one night, I can do this for you: you asked for a Stürm Topper, did you not miss? Well, I'm only too happy to oblige." The cheerful man knocked over two bottles as he filled a small glass with the third.
Ahsoka took the glass. It had a strange weight to it. This was it. The first real liquor she'd ever consumed. The occasion felt momentous somehow. A change of direction. She wasn't merely stepping away from the temple, stopping to find time to think. This was a step down a new path, one that she doubted would ever lead to the Jedi Council. She'd idly imagined it before, what it would mean to sit in that high room with Masters Plo and Yoda, with Obi-Wan and Anakin (for how could he not be admitted to the council in due time) and solve all that was wrong with the galaxy. It wasn't until now, when that dream was almost lost that she realized how much she still cherished it.
Ventress was given her drinks, specially mixed. The man began admiring the bottles aloud; perhaps he was some manner of connoisseur.
Ahsoka didn't bother to listen to Ventress's irritated reply, nor the man's joking rebuttal.
What was she doing here? If she wanted so badly to be among the greatest of all Jedi, why had she walked away? The council had all but told her she would be reinstated as a Knight. At only 16, that would be younger even than when Anakin was knighted. If she wanted a place on the council, she'd been on the right track. But sitting across from Masters Windu and Mundi just didn't sound right either. She had felt so impulsively certain that leaving the Order was the correct choice that she'd assumed she was simply feeling the Will of the Force.
But did she trust the Force now? Just yesterday it had guided her to kill when mercy was an option. When Yoda spoke of the light side, he said that the ideal Jedi has no will of their own, but in all things listens to the will of the living force, like its desires were entirely peaceful and good. But Ahsoka remembered Mortis. The light was not the Force's only aspect, and even it was capable of violence and defeat.
Surrendering to the will of the Force felt as wrong as trusting in the Jedi Council. But what other options did she have. Left to her own wisdom, she…what? Did this? Sharing drinks with the likes of Asajj Ventress?
Ahsoka glanced away from her drink at her partner. If Ventress had ever meant to continue their conversation from the ship, she certainly didn't look interested now. On the contrary, while the old man prattled on, Ventress looked as introspective as Ahsoka had been until a moment ago, elbows on knees, hands cupping her bald head.
"…but you know, I think you might be right not to touch that drink, miss." The old man said. "I get the feeling you don't do much drinking, do you?
Ahsoka politely shook her head.
"Didn't think so. Hardly have the belly for it," he said, clapping a hand to his own round stomach. He chuckled a bit to himself before continuing, "Stürm is a fine vintage to be sure, but it can do strange things to a person if they aren't prepared for it. I know you asked for it, but that don't mean you have to drink it. As you can see, there are many other choices right within reach. And if those don't strike your fancy, I'm sure I could find you just about any drink you'd like in a city like this.
"But, if I may…" he produced an additional bottle and poured another drink for Ahsoka. "I might recommend this for you. Straight from Shili. Made by a certain Jaantla Tano."
Ahsoka started. She felt a brief moment of fear, going so far as to place a hand on her lightsaber. But she felt no ill intent at all from this pudgy old man and his unwavering smile.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I suppose I do have you at a disadvantage Ahsoka Tano," Merth said, pouring a drink for himself. "My name is Merth. Just Merth, mind you. Surnames went out of vogue centuries ago on Serenno."
"Serenno," Ahsoka said. "Isn't that—?"
"Count Dooku's once and current home, yes."
Ahsoka expected some sort of reaction from Ventress at the mention of her former master, but she seemed to still be ignoring Merth to the best of her ability.
"At least, I assume that was how you were familiar with my birthplace. Remarkable how a single person can change the perception of everyone in his shadow. Nobody in the core worlds seems to remember Serenno's long tradition of artistry. You would adore some of the paintings my ancestors and their kin have produced. Or, at least, I do. No accounting for taste really. And on that note, I'm not sure if I could ever forgive someone who denounced a traditional Serennese meal. Oh, I could serenade you for hours on the virtues of Serenno's culture. Ha! Serenade on Serenno." Merth chuckled at his own unintentional wordplay.
Ahsoka was not amused. She shook Ventress's shoulder, but her elder partner did not stir.
Merth seemed to find this even funnier.
Ahsoka began to panic, "Ventress, Ventress! Wake up! This is no time to be drunk!"
Merth's laughter was cut short, "You are genuinely distressed. I'm so sorry. You can relax, Miss Ventress is quite safe. I've merely slipped Somni into her drink. She'll sleep like a child for the next few hours, but shall awaken brighter and fresher than ever."
Ahsoka searched for deception in the force around him, but found none, "Why?"
"I wished a conversation with you, one without your companion's intervention."
"Why?"
Merth smiled, "Are we to play the game of 'why?' I do wish we had the time; I find it the quickest way to find gaps in one's knowledge. I wish I could say that filling those gaps reduces their number, but I fear it is not so." His laughter this time was of sadness, rather than glee.
"I'm in no mood for games, Merth," Ahsoka said. "What do the Separatists want with me? I'm not a Jedi anymore."
"Remarkable how little of what you just said reflects the truth. I am not aligned with the Separatists, although I sympathize with many of their goals. I do not believe they have any particular interest in you. And you won't find that walking away from the temple is enough to keep you from being a Jedi, Miss Tano. And I think there's little more in the galaxy that you need more than a bit of fun."
"Enough with the riddles," Ahsoka said, grabbing her hilt. "What do you want?"
Merth seemed entirely unimpressed by Ahsoka's implied threat, "Still not quite the right question, but I'll answer it nonetheless. I want you to be happy and satisfied with your life, and for everyone you meet to be happier for having met you."
Ahsoka was nonplussed. Her questions were only drawing more questions. She decided to play his game. "Why?"
Merth chuckled, "'Why,' once again? Well, I suppose I desire that for you because I desire it for everyone."
"Why?"
"Because I am rather selfish, and I desire for myself to be happy. And I find the most happiness in the company of happy people."
"Why?"
"Because I enjoy being happy. Or, if you were referring to my second statement, I'd attribute that preference of mine to be some combination of genetics, the philosophies of my teachers, and the conclusions I have personally drawn regarding the ideal role and temperament of a Jedi."
"You want to emulate the Jedi?"
"Breaking the rules of the game, but I'm glad you're attentive. Not 'the Jedi.' The ideal Jedi."
"Why?"
"I had thought that would be obvious by now. I am a Jedi."
Ahsoka waited for the laughter. For the punchline. None came. "You're a Jedi? A fat, laughing old man who doesn't carry a lightsaber? Very convincing story."
Merth raised his eyebrows, "Not carrying a lightsaber means I cannot be a Jedi? This war has destroyed more than I realized if you truly believe that. I supposed I should not be surprised, not when you've spent so much time idolizing Skywalker. Powerful with the force that one, and more compassion in him than any master on the council, but he always seems to solve his problems in the same way, doesn't he?"
Ahsoka found herself on her feet, her unlit saber pointed directly at Merth's heart. "Don't you dare criticize Master Anakin. Not to me. And you claim that you are a Jedi? I ought to—"
"I beg you, please put that away." Merth said.
His voice had changed, taken on a desperate tone, all playfulness abandoned. But not a fearful one, Ahsoka noted.
"Master Vos is eager for a chance to intervene. Don't give him the excuse. I apologize for being so infuriating. I promise to explain myself properly if you'll let me."
Ahsoka felt that fury pulsing against the back of her eyes for the second time that day. Ventress's words echoed in her head. "I'd do anything to not be me." Ahsoka didn't know what she was doing with her life, but this, threatening old men for being mysterious, wasn't her.
She sat and clipped her saber back to her belt. "Talk."
Merth exhaled deeply and downed the drink he'd been holding. "Again, I am sorry for frustrating you like that. I needed to see your reaction. If it is any consolation at all, I never lied to you. My name is Merth, I was born on Serenno before being whisked away to the Jedi temple, and I do wish absolute happiness on your future. As you have noticed though, I am no warrior. Haven't even held my lightsaber in a decade. And I'm not very strong in the force either. Completely useless on the frontlines. I can't say I'm surprised you haven't heard of me.
"Have you ever heard of Xendor? Exar Kun? Revan? Not stories we teach very often anymore. I wish we would. They were all immensely powerful dark side practitioners who spread war and chaos across the galaxy. And all were first trained as Jedi. I have spent my life studying the lives and cultures of hundreds of species across the galaxy, but in every one of them that has ever historically produced a force-sensitive individual, I find one thing in common: the Jedi way of letting go of attachment and suppressing emotion is antithetical to their very existence.
"And I…I am boring you. I'll skip to the point. You have been a good Jedi. You helped a whole lot of people. But you've also gone through more hardships than anyone your age ever should have to, Jedi or no. And that was before being betrayed by Barriss. I…I see that that is still a fresh wound. In my research of your talents and exploits, I know that you know something of healing where the flesh is concerned. But your mind cannot be healed that simply. What you need now is bedrest for the mind. Friends. Happiness. A hobby. Not more violence. Your decision to spend time with Miss Ventress simply isn't conducive to a healthy psyche. If you were to return to the Jedi Temple, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you have time to heal. If you are determined to stay away—and I wish to be clear, I think it was both brave and wise for you to leave in the first place—I can arrange for you to spend time as a student in the Republic Academy on Hosnian Prime with people your age. Work as a doctor on Coruscant, aiding the sick and suffering in a way only you can. Or…" Merth pushed Ahsoka's second drink nearer to her hand. "I've spoken with your parents. They've been watching your progress from afar your whole life. They are so proud of you. They would like nothing better than a chance to reconnect."
Merth finally finished speaking.
Ahsoka took a moment to let her thoughts congeal. "So you're some kind of Jedi psychiatrist?"
Merth nodded.
"And you think that Ventress is going to turn me to the Dark Side?"
Merth shook his head. When he looked at Ventress, he actually looked…sad. "Not precisely. I told you I'm traveling with Master Quinlan Vos. He has been very interested in Miss Ventress for quite some time, and has shared his finding with me. Hers is a tragic tale, and I hold a great deal of pity for her situation. I doubt very much that she believes in anything, nor wants anything strongly enough to deliberately turn you. If she were, I think you are more than strong enough to rebuff her seduction.
"But—forgive my bluntness—you are lost. What Ventress could not do on purpose she may achieve on accident. You are a pair of immensely powerful young women who don't seem to have any idea how you wish to put your strength to use. One more emotionally traumatic event could send either of you into a spiral of self-destruction, and the amount of damage you could do to the galaxy around you before being consumed…that is what I fear.
"What you need right now is stability. Friends, family, peers, coworkers, an outlet to dispel the storm of emotions raging within you. Suppressing emotions can cause the best of us to lash out in the worst ways if they are unleashed, or can warp the mind if they are left untended and unresolved. The Jedi would take you back in an instant, but believe me when I say the Jedi's way of life simply isn't for everyone. Your work as a waitress, while unfulfilling, was very healthy for you. Bounty hunting is not a safe path for you. I know that you have engaged in a great deal of combat throughout the war, but you always had mentors and commanders to keep you pointed in the right direction. Now, all you have is Ventress. And bounty hunting is a dangerous profession. What will you do if she dies? What do you think she will do if you die? No matter what you do, keep in mind that you have most of your life ahead of you."
"...So, what, I'm supposed to just decide my life's path right now?" Ahsoka asked.
"We each decide what we are 'supposed' to do, and it's only our own decision which truly matter." Merth's way of making every sentence sound like a philosophical axiom made Ahsoka wonder how she had failed to identify him as a Jedi in the first place. "But you may of course take your time. But, if you'll allow the metaphor, I would advise thinking of it less like choosing a path which must be re-trod should the walker come to regret their choice at the fork, but, well, more of a drink." He toasted Ahsoka with another glass and downed it in a single gulp. "Be careful that you don't drink poison of course, but once you've tasted it, you can always pick up another bottle."
With a final chuckle, Merth set a personal communicator in front of Ahsoka and made his departure.
Ahsoka sat for a time, staring at the collection of bottles the laughing Jedi had left behind.
Midnight had come and gone when Ahsoka finally grasped the cup of Stürm and drank its contents. She then hoisted Ventress over her shoulder and returned to the Banshee for what was left of the night.