Descent

"So tell me about Barriss."

The two had woken with the sun. Asajj had waited through a light breakfast and the simple breakdown of their small camp before holding Ahsoka to her promise of the previous night.

Ahsoka visibly flinched at the sound of that name. "Look, I was really tired last night, and the vergence's visions had me confused, and it really isn't very important, and you made me promise not to feel sorry for myself, so can we please not talk about her?"

"No." Asajj took note of the sting of hurt and betrayal on Ahsoka's face and amended her answer. "I mean, yes, obviously you don't have to, and I can't force you. But those reasons are weak. It's a sensitive subject for you, so you know talking about it will hurt. But last night you were sure talking about it would be a good thing. If you've changed your mind, that's one thing, but the Ahsoka I know isn't one to run from pain."

Ahsoka grimaced at the veiled compliment. "It's not that. Well, it's kind of that, probably. But that's not the big part. Mostly it's just...embarassing." Ahsoka took a deep breath, looking up at the morning's multi-hued sky for strength. "Next to you, and everything you've gone through, all my trials just seem so...tiny. Insignificant. Because really, my life has been pretty great. Surrounded by kind people. Always had a sturdy roof over my head and never hesitated to ask for a second plate of food if I was still hungry. Training was hard, sure, but it was also satisfying. Fun, even. What right do I have to complain? Plenty have had it much worse than me."

"Plenty have had it better. Doesn't change your life. You were a child soldier. And I'm right here, asking you to complain. If my life has been so much worse as you think, don't you think I'll have some kind of useful response?"

"...Do you remember Master Luminara Unduli? You fought her once, after we captured Gunray. Of all the Jedi who aren't on the high council-and really, more than most of those who are-she was the most...Jedi. The embodiment of everything we were supposed to be. I love Masters Skywalker and Kenobi, but Anakin was always much too passionate, too attached to his men, and Obi-Wan can't make it through a conversation without saying something that's only true from a ludicrous point of view. But Master Luminara...she was perfect. Kind, compassionate, and skilled, but always aloof, never attached, never invested. Beautiful, but never sexual. Noble, but never condescending. Wise, but willing to learn. Graceful. Confident in the will of the Force. And able to survive a fight with you with a Midichlorian count lower than Hondo Ohnaka. Did you ever meet him?"

Asajj hadn't the faintest idea who Hondo might be, but she didn't want to interject. Now that Ahsoka had started talking, she seemed almost unable, or perhaps unwilling to stop. Even if Asajj had wanted to get a word in edgewise, Ahsoka didn't give her a chance before going on.

"No, sorry, that doesn't matter. The point is, Luminara is who I was supposed to want to be. She wasn't. Before I met him, I wanted to be Obi-Wan, the first man in a thousand years to kill a Sith, and of course when I met Anakin he immediately became my idol. I wanted to be a hero, for generations of Jedi in the future to be told my story.

"And...this is all besides the point. That's all about me. I was never the problem. Maybe. Maybe if I knew what the problem was, there wouldn't be a problem. Ugh.

"Jedi aren't supposed to have friends, but Barriss was mine. Where I was Anakin in miniature, brilliant in a fight and terrible with authority, Barriss mimicked Luminara. She was a scholar first, warrior second. Almost all the stuff I've taught you about lightsaber forms, historical force users, vergences, philosophies on morality; I never would have learned that without Barriss. Before her, everything was very instinctual for me. Go with my gut, mimic people who do things well. I was in all those same classes with her, but the Force always came so easily for me that I never really felt I needed to know the theory behind its use. But spending time with her recently...it was like holding up a mirror to how my life could have been if I'd had a different master. If I'd picked different idols.

"If she fell as far as terrorism, murder, and betrayal despite trying so hard to be perfect, without ever realizing what she was doing was wrong, what hope do I have? I, who never studied philosophy or morality, who has always trusted other people to tell me what to do, whose only real skill in the galaxy is fighting, how can I hope to be the good guy if the only thing I'm good for is hurting the bad guys and I don't trust myself to tell who the bad guys are.

"Being betrayed wasn't the problem. I've been betrayed before. I remember Umbara. Being betrayed by Barriss was the problem. Knowing that all her knowledge didn't make her good. Knowing that for all we talked and laughed and learned and loved life together, I was nothing to her. Being betrayed by the council was the problem. Knowing that for all their experience and wisdom, they could be wrong. They couldn't always be trusted. Knowing that for all that I trained and sweat and killed and bled for them, they didn't trust me. They knew what I'm good for, what I am, what all Jedi are. A weapon, only worthwhile when pointed in the right direction.

"And here I am, acting like I'm innocent in all this, like I didn't turn my back on them when things went bad. Like I didn't run away from Anakin, like I didn't fight against Wolffe and his men. Pretending I'm such a paragon that I can teach you what's right and what's wrong, when I don't even know what to do with myself."

Ahsoka finally fell silent.

A lot of what she'd said spoke emotions Asajj had felt herself. Betrayal. Self doubt. Worthlessness. A horrible, hollow longing of pity and empathy split through Asajj's chest. Maybe that was what Ahsoka needed right now: someone to reassure her, to show her kindness. But that wasn't what Asajj had needed. She'd needed Ahsoka.

So she gave her Asajj. "Tell me, how much of that do you know is bullshit, and how much do I have to explain to you?" Too much Asajj, dial it back. "You're good in a fight, sure, but that's obviously not the only thing you're good for. You're a good pilot, whether you're fighting or not. You're a good teacher, and not bad at telling a story. You lead well, listen well, and you're apparently pretty good at bussing tables. On top of that-"

"Stop it! Please, just...just stop." Ahsoka hands had curled up and around her fractured montrals, as if trying to block out sounds she couldn't hear. "I can't even if you're mocking me or actually trying to be nice, but you're right: most of my issues are fake or petty. Just a bunch of dumb emotions in my head. They don't make sense. That's why I try to ignore them. If I was a proper Jedi, I'd be able to shut everything out. But I just...can't. I'm too weak."

Asajj was stunned. If she'd needed to operate her jaw to speak, she likely wouldn't have been able to manage. "...Is that how you try to live?" she asked, "just repressing everything and pretending nothing you feel matters? Emotions, good or bad...they make us...us. I always thought the Jedi were trained to process their emotions super quickly, but this is what you do? Just pretend you can't feel at all?"

"It's a Jedi's duty to do what is right, to help others. Emotions don't help with that. At best, they're a distraction. At worst, they make people self-centered, limiting their focus to only what they personally care about. They lose sight of the larger galaxy. Become selfish. Fear to lose what's in front of them. Cause more suffering by inaction."

Asajj remembered a conversation on morality she'd shared with Ahsoka, when they were first leaving Coruscant. How long ago had that been? It felt like months. She'd insisted that she was done taking anyone's word on faith. She'd wanted reason, and Ahsoka had accommodated. Best to return the favor.

How can you reason your way into emotion?

"I know emotions can get out of hand. I drowned for years in my own fury. But isn't fear of emotions just another kind of fear? Isn't the reason you fight a compassion for other living things? Nobody can escape emotions. But what your Jedi trained you to do, ignoring every complicated or confusing feeling...ugh. Maybe a person could survive like that, but I don't think they could live. I mean...I know Jedi aren't supposed to get romantically involved, but are you allowed to feel lust? Humor? Enjoy a good meal? Be happy at all?"

"Can't stop a bird from flying over your head." Ahsoka chanted with an air of practiced quotation, "but you don't need to let it nest in your hair."

"We don't have hair."

"You do, actually." Ahsoka reached out and ran her fingers over the fine stubble coating her scalp. An unexpected tingle skated from the points of contact to the nape of her neck and down Asajj's spine. "I didn't even know for sure you could grow hair."

"I shave." Old habit. On Rattatak, after Narec's death, before Dooku, when the Jedi had abandoned her and she had nothing else to define her, the light tattoos across the back of her head had been a strange source of comfort, of identity. After meeting those who'd given her those markings, they mattered less. "Haven't had a chance for that since Corellia."

Stupid. This was a distraction. The girl, so bold with an array of blasters pointed at her, was quick to flee when faced with herself.

"That was another Jedi maxim?" Asajj asked.

"That doesn't make it wrong."

"Do you think it makes it right?"

Ahsoka didn't respond. They walked together for a time. The mountain, so massive from below, was not that large, in truth. None of the impossible geometries or ranching paths they'd seen during the ascent. Their path down was straight, smooth, and easy.

Except the conversation.

Asajj tried to sigh. Her damaged throat's success in such a small task was the first use it had found since Corellia. The spike of pleasure at the victory was immediately smothered under her annoyance that such a paltry labor was the extent of her current abilities.

"I don't know what to say to make you change your mind. I guess nothing I say could do that: you're mind is too strong to change for anyone but yourself."

Ahsoka scoffed. A beautiful, derisive sound, the sort Asajj had made every waking hour of her life for a decade, but which her throat couldn't now manage. Asajj wondered with a bit of strange pride if Ahsoka could have made such a sound before they'd met.

"I just know that you deserve to be happy. And if the Jedi say you shouldn't be happy, then they are wrong. And I know that you're in pain. I know pain. It doesn't go away. You might learn to ignore, think that you're healed, but when you think back upon it, you'll find the wounds raw, bloody, and as agonizing as they've ever been. It doesn't go away. It doesn't heal. It's a part of you now.

"That doesn't mean you deserve it. And it doesn't mean you can't grow past it.

"If the Jedi say you shouldn't feel pain after they hurt you, then they don't know the first thing about life. Life is loss. No, that isn't right. Life after loss is still life. Maybe Jedi teachings work for someone who's never lost anything, but that won't work for me. And it won't work for you.

"You've felt now. Really felt. You understand more of what the galaxy really is. Tell me truly: now that you know this pain, know what other people mean when they talk about how it feels, how the world around you reacts when everything falls apart, would you give it up? If you could, would you give up the knowledge, the experience, go back to pretending that life is simple and loyalty is absolute?"

That was the question she'd meant to ask, but somehow she'd asked a second one along with it. One even more personal, one she'd never voice, one she didn't dare even think. But when Ahsoka looked at her, Asajj knew she had heard it. Asajj wasn't just asking about giving up knowledge, experience, and feelings, but also about what came along with them.

About who came along with them.

The longest silence of Asajj's life followed that question. An eternity packed into a single, terrible, doubt-filled second. The new world, the new life Asajj was striving to build waited upon Ahsoka's answer. The capstone that would let her keep progressing, or cause everything to crumble and force her to start again. Again.

"No." Ahsoka stopped, taking Asajj's hand. "I…" A dazzling smile split Ahsoka's face. "I'm no Jedi."

"You're becoming something more. Something alive."

Ahsoka kissed her.

Asajj flinched back, flabbergasted. Her world bucked underneath her, twisting, warping, turning upside down and inside out. But it didn't break. Yet.

"What are you...why did you...you've never...I didn't mean...not that I...but you shouldn't...I'm too...bwuh?"

Ahsoka had the audacity to giggle. "If I'd known that was all it took to get you to stop making sense, I'd have done that ages ago."

Anger sprang up amidst Asajj's confusion. "Is this some kind of Jedi joke? Do you even know what it means to do what you just did?"

Ahsoka put a finger to Asajj's lips, despite her "speech" no longer needing them. The casual, soft contact did nothing to calm Asajj, and an amused twinkle still danced behind Ahsoka's eyes. "Of course I know what it means. That wasn't my first kiss. I'm sorry, I should have asked first. But if I'm throwing away the Jedi's rules about emotions, then I have a lot of time to make up, because romance sounds amazing."

"And I happened to be close?"

"Yeah. You also happened to be you: the woman who picked me up when I was at my weakest, who opened my eyes to the world around me over and over again. A breathtaking warrior, teacher, and student. A confounding conversationalist. And the person who has done the most for me, purely for the sake of helping me, of anyone in the galaxy. And honestly, pretty sexy to boot, as much as I can understand what sexy even means."

Asajj shook her head, trying to end this conversation without thinking about it. "This can't happen. I'm too old for you."

"By what, five years?"

"A quarter of your life."

"And since when do you care about other people's rules?"

"Not other people's rules. My rules. I don't do romance with people I'm not attracted to."

"So you're saying you're not attracted to me?"

"No." Asajj's answer was too fast, she knew. She hoped Ahsoka wouldn't read anything into it.

The flat refusal did nothing to spoil Ahsoka's high mood. "Well, then I guess I'll just have to seduce you."

Asajj scoffed, but found Ahsoka's mood infectious despite herself. "What do you know of seduction?"

"Nothing at all! But I do have a really hot friend that I'm hoping can teach me."

Asajj smiled, then sighed. "Look, Ahsoka, I really do think this is a bad idea."

"You're probably right. Which is why I'm dropping it. For now. But I just want you to know that if you ever-ever-change your mind. Well, I don't plan on being far away."

The remainder of their descent proved uneventful. The path was not overly steep, and clear of debris. Asajj broadcast a few songs from her memory; the Jedi temple did not encourage musical pursuits. As they neared the mountain's base, they made no celebration, felt no outstanding victory, and made no ceremony crossing the arched threshold.

Immediately upon the other side, however, they felt a third party speak into their minds. "The council of elders, in light of your failure, insists that you depart our planet immediately." The Miralukan emissary was ready for them, standing stiff, mouth pursed, some fifty feet away. "You may not appeal this decision, as the location of our village is a precious secret. Respect their decision, or suffer the consequences."

"Oh, right." Asajj had half-forgotten why they'd faced the vergence in the first place. "Ship is still busted though, so we can't really leave. We won't bother you though, if you're worried about that."

Ahsoka eschewed the mental connection, yelling aloud, "Making threats now? I thought your society was too high and enlightened to do that sort of thing."

The emissary's face-or at least, the parts visible around the thick blindfold-filled with color. "A reasoned argument is only a viable alternative to violence when the opposing party can comprehend and respond in kind. When dealing with babes and wild animals, a more direct solution must be sought."

Ahsoka's retort was quick in it's coming, "So we're babes and wild animals, are we? Then maybe-"

Asajj had never known Ahsoka to have such a fierce temper, and wondered for a moment whether her revelations of the past day were positive developments. She interrupted before more harm could be done, "We didn't fail. We reached the summit."

"Lies. There is no summit. The path leads to a cave. I applaud you for surviving, but I have no time for your decep-"

The Emissary's jaw dropped as Ahsoka produced one of the two blood-red kyber crystals. "Impossible. A forgery."

"A forgery of what, precisely?" Asajj asked, displaying her own, equally red crystal.

The Emissary could only whisper, "Marr." After a moment, she began muttering rapidly through their connection, clearly enough to be understood, but likely only for her own benefit. "The two of you should not have been able to achieve this thing. Neither of you are near powerful enough. Yet somehow, together, you have prevailed. Two useless things, made useful together. A wheel and an axle. A lever and a fulcrum."

She seemed to gather her composure, visibly straightening her neck and back. "To hell with the elders. I'll deal with them. My people would be honored if you would visit our village. You may stay as long as you like, as long as it takes to repair your ship. There is much we can teach you. And much, I feel, we can learn. Please, come with me."

Ahsoka shrugged to Asajj, and they left together.