Hello, everyone - it's me, katierosefun, aka Caroline. And let me just start off by saying that I started this story last night (around eight o'clock PM?) and didn't stop writing until it was nearly one in the morning. I'm halfway finished with this story - and essentially, I wrote over 6K words in one. Sitting. Which was pretty awesome - but when I woke up this morning, the lack of sleep and the energy I used up while writing just totally crashed into me. Oops.

After listening to Halsey's album Badlands (and reading the analysis on all of its themes), I just couldn't help but to extend that analysis into a story. I highly recommend listening to Halsey's albums (Room 93 and Badlands) - they're incredibly fresh for this age. However, listening to Badlands is not vital to this story - you can read this with/without knowing what those songs are.

Just a quick heads-up - while this story won't have any too-dark/too-explicit themes in this story, I feel like it'll be one of my heavier ones. I know I like to play around with all of the really cute, lighthearted aspects of The Clone Wars, but for today, I want to try something new.

Enjoy!

Badlands one.

Patriarchy

("and there's an old man sitting on a throne telling me I should keep my pretty mouth shut")

Ahsoka Tano didn't expect too many visitors. Besides that one time Anakin and Padmé came, there was relatively no one. She thought she caught a glimpse of Rex lingering around her cell once or twice, though he was never able to make any gestures of acknowledgement. Ahsoka tried not to resent that too much – she knew that he was in a terrible situation. (But then again, so was she. So was everyone.)

And Ahsoka wouldn't see Barriss – she probably wouldn't be allowed to talk to her, which didn't help Ahsoka with matters of loneliness. She longed to at least catch a word or two of encouragement from her friend…or at least deliver a proper goodbye.

Even Ventress coming to Ahsoka's cell would be a welcoming sight. Ironically enough, that harpy had been more help to Ahsoka than most members of the Order. (Ha. Fracking. Ha.) But it wasn't like Ventress would actually come – she was probably tied up in her own problems.

Not even Master Kenobi or Master Plo were coming to see Ahsoka, which rubbed her in all the wrong ways. She didn't know Master Kenobi as well as she did with Anakin, but…she had thought that they at least knew each other enough to at least see each other before the Senate's ruling. And Master Plo – out of everyone Ahsoka knew, she thought he would at least come to see how Ahsoka was doing.

"Tano."

Ahsoka's head jerked up. She narrowed her eyes past the dim, red lighting of lasers keeping her inside the cell. Even despite the angry glow, Ahsoka could recognize that face anywhere.

How could she forget it, anyways? She had only scowled at it hundreds – if not thousands – of times.

"Tarkin." Ahsoka's lips curled into an annoyed scowl. She didn't bother keeping out the indignant tones from her voice – out of all people, he should probably know how angry she was at the situation. "What are you here for?"

"I'm to make sure you aren't up to any of your old tricks," Tarkin replied, a cruel smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Only natural, you see, especially since your last escape took down a few men."

"I didn't take down any men," Ahsoka replied, standing up. "I might have knocked them out – but I didn't kill anyone."

"You inflicted some injuries on the very same men who you used to work with. I'm sure they don't care if you killed them or not."

At this bit of news, Ahsoka felt guilt settle into her stomach. She hadn't meant to hurt anyone – really, she hadn't – she just needed to get out of her cell. Find an answer for herself.

Still…

He's getting to your head, a voice hissed from the back of Ahsoka's mind. Don't listen to him. He's trying to make you feel small.

Feel small. That was one thing Ahsoka couldn't stand. When she was a youngling, she hated being one of the weaker ones in her class – in her weaker subjects, she'd force herself to practice and practice and practice until she was scrambling at the top. When she's with Anakin – when she was Anakin's Padawan, that is – she would try her best to show everyone that she wasn't a little girl anymore. When she was out on the battlefield, she was always sure to be out on the front lines, defending everyone from whatever was coming their way. She was so careful – so sure – to never let anyone see her as petty.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Ahsoka's voice was terse. She tried to keep her form relaxed.

"I don't think a simple apology would matter – especially after your fate's decided," Tarkin said dismissively.

"Huh," Ahsoka snorted. "I always knew you were the type of person to get dramatic. 'After my fate's decided' – I didn't think anyone else said that on Coruscant."

Tarkin clasped his hands behind his back. "You're foolish attempts to make the situation lighter for yourself are futile," he told Ahsoka coolly. "Pity. I thought a Jedi commander like yourself would put up a better fight."

"In case you didn't notice, I'm a bit limited," Ahsoka replied flatly. She sat down on the bench in her cell, arms crossed defiantly over her chest. "And just so you know, I think your attempts at trying to get under my skin are pretty weak, too." She pretended to examine her nails. "Yeah. I noticed that."

Tarkin waved away Ahsoka's comment. "No one will be able to help you," he whispered. "No one is coming for you. Surely, you know that by now – or are you still clinging onto a bit of hope that somehow, you'll get out of this alive?"

Ahsoka looked up from her nails. Unruffled, she replied almost sweetly, "Tell me, Tarkin – were you always this cheerful?"

"You're avoiding the question," Tarkin smiled again. "Because you already know the answer."

Ahsoka stood up to her feet. Walking to the front of her cell, she jabbed a finger at Tarkin's direction.

"No," she replied harshly. "No – that's just what you want to think. Do you want to know why I'm avoiding your question?" When Tarkin didn't answer instantly, she repeated, "Do you?"

"It appears I don't have a choice."

Ahsoka dropped her hand. "I'm avoiding the question because I don't want to waste my time on someone like you," she spat out. She would spit at Tarkin if she could. If he got into her cell. Ahsoka would spit right there – right at the side of his cheek, where the muscles under his face would bob up every time his lips curled into his trademark smirk.

"You think you're being clever," Tarkin said coldly. "You think you have the upper hand."

No, I'm just bluffing, Ahsoka thought to herself. But she had to keep up the show – she had to keep being poised.

"So what if I do?" Ahsoka shot back. "Someone has to be on the winning side. Sadly, Tarkin, it's not you." She headed back towards the end of her cell. She let the rest of her words slip out of her lips. "Hate to break it to you, but it never was you – and I doubt it never will be."

There. She said it – words she had been keeping in for so long.

And there – Ahsoka heard the rays dissolve and then close up again.

Ahsoka turned around just in time to see Tarkin stop directly in front of her. He was taller than her by a few inches. He had always tried to make a point of that even before Ahsoka was framed for the bombing – and it had always bothered her to no end. It wasn't even like Ahsoka disliked her height in general. For example, whenever she was standing next to Anakin or Master Kenobi or even Barriss, she never felt small. She never felt insignificant or suffocated.

But Tarkin always made a point of trying to make himself tower over Ahsoka. It was his profile, she thought. Or his nose. Or maybe just the way his eyes made a point of looking down at her whenever they were up close.

Tarkin's hand shot out and grabbed Ahsoka's chin. She stiffened. It had been a classic move on Tarkin's part – only she wasn't expecting it to happen again.

"I suggest you keep your silly mouth shut," Tarkin seethed, his colorless eyes narrowed. Ahsoka couldn't see her own reflection in his eyes. She felt a shiver run up her spine as Tarkin's fingers rubbed just a little from underneath her chin. His fingers felt cold. His nails were little cuticles of ice. "You're nothing now – and you will remain that way, just like every other stupid girl who thought she could have actual power or freedom."

Ahsoka bristled. She yanked her chin away from Tarkin, walking back a few steps. She was breathing hard, trying to get rid of the feeling of Tarkin's fingers still on her face. She would rub it off with acid if she could.

"Every other stupid girl?" Ahsoka asked, her voice low. She bared her teeth. "You think girls are stupid? You think girls are weak?" She could feel her hands curling and uncurling with anger. "Girls are made with fire – all girls." She took a few steps up to Tarkin, not even caring if he would stand over her. (Ahsoka would tower over him. She'd have to. She'd always have to scramble to the top – practice and practice and practice until she was finally where she was supposed to be.)

"This stupid, silly girl happened to have gone through years of training and discipline," Ahsoka hissed. "This stupid, silly girl happened to get into a top-secret mission and deliver a dying Jedi General's message – I know that bothered you." She didn't miss the way Tarkin seemed to flinch. Fueled by this, Ahsoka continued furiously, "This stupid, silly girl happened to be beaten, bruised, interrogated, burned, poisoned, and gone through every ridiculous and dangerous situation there ever was. This stupid, silly girl happened to have grown and matured under the heels of people who were already born at the top." She jabbed a finger at Tarkin's chest. He took a half-step back.

"And this stupid, silly girl," Ahsoka whispered, smiling, "happens to be absolutely done with whatever you, a bumbling, old man – has to say."

With that, Ahsoka stepped away. She walked to the end of her cell and faced the wall. She could feel Tarkin's energy radiating off of him, coming in waves of simmering red and orange.

And then she heard his footsteps going up the steps – and then there was the faint buzz of the lasers – and finally, Tarkin's words were blocked out.

For the first time that day, Ahsoka allowed herself a real smile.

Who knows? She might be going to her grave – she might become one with the Force – but right now, she felt victorious.

A/N - In case you couldn't tell, this was what I thought would be a deleted scene in the season finale arc between Tarkin and Ahsoka. Obviously, Tarkin's kind of the love-to-hate (or...just plain hate) character of the fandom. I thought it was fitting to embody Tarkin as a symbol of patriarchy, since he's always seemed to have this weird habit of looking down on powerful women. (E.g. Ahsoka, Leia...)

Of course, not all men are extremely patriarchal or selfish or patronizing - but I thought it was still important to point out that despite the fact that there's been many changes in history, there's still a somewhat patriarchal element in our world today. It might not be as outright or as blatant as women not being allowed to vote/go to school - but patriarchal society is shown in cases of sexual assault, power play...even most school dress-codes. (Because girls must cover their shoulders and wear pants/skirts up to their knees because we must not tempt boys. Instead of just teaching boys to control themselves, it's the girls who are taught to cower before them.)

But at the end of the day, no matter what people says, patriarchy is just like Tarkin - a slimy, annoying bastard who in the ultimate end, doesn't get remembered for anything except being an asshole.

Reviews are always nice! Constructive criticism is alright - but flames are not! (And please, if there's any negative comments, at least let them be about the story's content, not so much on my personal opinions.)