In the Shadows Where No One Can See

They move in the shadows
where no one can see
And they're chainin' up people
and they're bringin' em to me
askin' me,
"Kill them NOW, or LATER?"
Askin' ME!
"Kill them now, or later?"

"Pirate Jenny" – Nina Simone

It was so still at the factory.

It was late; the small hours of the morning left the fewest people inside. Technicians, drafters, scientists, engineers were all away for the night. There were a few maintenance droids about, as well as some measures of security. It was the latter that Ahsoka was concerned with. The best way of doing this little operation was the quietest. Rex, Echo and Fives all had positions without, ready to unleash chaos outside if she needed a distraction or a rescue. With a little luck, it wouldn't be necessary.

A guard walked steadily past, below her. Light and shadow cast stripes across her face, thrown from the slats in the grate she was peering through. She could hear his steps fading, pause, shuffle as he turned, then began to walk again, down another hallway.

She raised a hand upward, and watched as the four bolts that held the grate in place slowly began to spin counterclockwise, unscrewing themselves silently. As they slipped out, they began to fall towards the floor. A flick of her fingers, and they floated up through the grate and towards her. She set them aside, looped her fingers through the slats, and pulled the grate up and into the ventilation shaft.

It did not get her the whole way to her destination, but hiding out in the air ducts got her most of the way in, unseen, though she'd had to be careful with the security going through the outer portions. Getting sliced up by a few overzealous lasers was not her idea of fun.

She dropped down silently, the long, brown coat she wore trailing, then settling onto the floor behind her. Ahsoka cast a quick glance behind her, the direction the guard had gone. He radiated dull boredom, the result of repeated rounds of sentry duty and no expected surprises. She made a faint gesture towards her lightsaber, checking for its familiar presence. It did not rest, as it used to, at her hip, but rather in a modified shoulder holster. It had been over a year now, since she could wear it openly; instead, a blaster hung from her right hip, and a vibroblade had taken her lightsaber's place on her side.

It still did not feel natural, and she suspected it never really would. She had, however, grown accustomed to it. Also to the annoying white face paint that altered the markings of her skin, turning her eyelids solid white and her cheeks into white ovals. If caught, it would not take long to identify her as Ahsoka Tano, but so long as she was not caught, the small changes would help blur her identity.

She murmured to herself, "Here we go," as she slipped a circuit disruptor over the lock. After a moment, the door slid obediently open, the security measures overridden. It shushed to a close once she was inside the drafting room. She headed for the wall of computers.

Plucking a datastick out of a pocket on her belt, she slipped it into a dataport and began to hack the mainframe. Security from within wasn't so bad; trying to hack from outside the factory's intranet required slicing skills none of them had quite attained – yet. Echo was cheerfully reading every manual he could access. She would grab what information she could, but she mostly wanted any data on the new dual ion engine fighters they'd begun to see accompanying Imperial destroyers. Blowing up the entire factory was tempting, but would bring too much attention, too much security, and not really do much in the end. More fighters could be made elsewhere. Technical specs would be more useful. It would help if there were weaknesses in the design, but mostly it would be beneficial to be up to speed on the technology. Imperial enemies would be able to use the developments to create fighters of their own.

In and out. Nice and easy. She was thinking of taking the guys somewhere nice for a few days after this. Somewhere sunny. With good food. It had taken forever to get all the right intel on the factory, get the layout, make sure they could hack through doors and systems quietly, and know what Ahsoka was going to be crawling through to get the specs.

Which was why a hundred curses in a variety of alien languages raced through her head when she heard the door snick open. Some were for whoever was opening the door. The rest were for herself, for not paying enough attention. She should have sensed someone coming.

A guard stood in the doorway, dimly lit from behind. She was in a crouch, caught in the act. The man stood there, as though he did not see her, and seemed to waver a little. Ahsoka looked at him warily. Something was off; she could barely sense him. He was in a daze, hard to read.

A silky voice said, "You need to go check the lower floors. They're very unprotected tonight. It's not safe."

The man blinked once, and said, absently, "I need to go check the lower floors. They're not safe."

Ahsoka lifted a brow. Jedi mind trick. She was either going to find a friendly face or be neck deep in bantha poodoo in about two seconds. Whoever it was, she – the voice was female - was keeping her signature dampened. Ahsoka wasn't sure if it was wiser to pull her blaster, her lightsaber, or nothing at all. Reveal herself as Jedi or try to brazen it out as a mercenary having a bad day. It depended on who appeared. She tensed.

A second figure filled the doorway, all soft grey angles from a dark robe and a hooded head. She made a darkly amused snort, lifted her pale hands, and tipped back her hood.

"Amateur. He could have seen your entry point on a second sweep, brat."

Lightsaber. Green plasma erupted from the end of the hilt, illuminating the room in a humming emerald glow, punctuated by small galaxies of computer lights on the walls. Ahsoka bristled, saber in a solid reverse grip and ready to fight.

"Well, if it isn't the hairless harpy herself. Been awhile."

Ventress rolled her eyes and sneered. "You don't have any hair either, you obnoxious little ingrate." She swept further into the room, the door closing quietly behind her.

Ahsoka practically snarled. She almost charged, but Ventress' oddly cool demeanor gave her pause. The Rattataki had not yet pulled her own lightsabers, and in fact seemed quite content to ignore the threat Ahsoka posed. Why was she here? And how? Last anyone had heard of Asajj Ventress, she was a corpse being loaded onto a ship.

Ventress gave Ahsoka's lightsaber a bare glance before turning her attention to the display behind her. "Stealing files from the Empire?" Ventress' lips curled upward into a frosty smile. "How very troublesome of you." Now she turned to look at Ahsoka, and her ice blue eyes seemed to glitter with some emotion – Ahsoka recognized it, after a moment – satisfaction.

It was a strange sight. Ventress was not known for her restraint. The insults were familiar, the talking was not. A casual chit-chat before battle wasn't her style. Something had changed. But suspicion, and the memories of dozens of battles, overrode the compulsion to better understand the odd aura that now was pooling around her old adversary.

Ahsoka tightened her grip on her lightsaber. "I won't let you jeopardize my mission."

Ventress gave her a strange look, seemingly both amused and annoyed at the same time. "Your expectations cloud your judgment, brat." She returned her attention to the computers. A datastick appeared in her hand, and she slid it into the port beside Ahsoka's.

It sounded bizarrely like something a Jedi Master would say. Ahsoka fought the urge to let her jaw drop. Ventress was continuing to ignore her, and was simply downloading the same data Ahsoka was onto her own data storage. The entire scene felt weird, even surreal. Ahsoka tried to gather her thoughts together. Ventress had apparently followed her through security, had not attacked her, had even ordered off a guard, and now was stealing specs from the Empire, much as she was.

She tilted her head, and tried to get a clearer reading of the other woman in the Force. She was no longer trying to hide herself; she was unusually open, almost as though inviting the mental probe. Ahsoka couldn't help but mistrust her. Ventress was capable of almost anything. This could easily be a trap of some kind. She kept her saber raised and eyes focused. Ventress held very still, seemingly preoccupied with the computers.

Ahsoka let mind flow along the current of Force that was Ventress. She felt grey, the color of polished durasteel, caught between extremes of dark and light. Where there had been venom, rage, hate, there was now a veneer of control, of determination, will, certainty. They were raw feelings, harsh, but strong. That she was Ventress, there could be no doubt, but there was a shift in the Force around her, a different way of flowing. She seemed now to stand in the calm center of the tempest she was usually twisted in.

A Jedi was not supposed to feel hate. Ventress was one of the few people Ahsoka had struggled not to.

"Why are you here?" she asked, still not willing to relax her guard.

Ventress turned, face cast in the eerie green glow of Ahsoka's lightsaber. "Much the same as you. Espionage."

"I can see that," Ahsoka said, frowning. "But why are you doing it?"

Ventress registered as a swirl of agitation, disgust and more determination. She was startlingly easy to sense now, and Ahsoka, with some surprise, began to believe that the other woman was letting her read her so easily. She wanted to be read. To be understood. Ventress seemed to struggle saying the words, "I have grown tired of being used. Dooku is dead. His master is not." Her face contorted into a familiar looking twist of rage, then eased slowly, almost as though she had to force herself to control. "And I grow sick of the galaxy as it is."

She turned abruptly away, and there was an immediate clamping down of emotion around her. Still, a faint murmur of pain-loss echoed into the Force before going silent. The openness was gone.

Ahsoka still had her suspicion. But her master had turned to the dark side. Was it possible for someone to turn away? She bit her lip. She wanted to believe a dark night of the soul could end.

Her fingers shifted around the hilt of her lightsaber. She lifted one, paused, then flicked the weapon off. The room was plunged back into shadow.

Ventress yanked both of the datasticks out of their ports. She tossed one at Ahsoka, who caught it.

Ice blue eyes met sky blue ones. "I still think you're an obnoxious little brat," Ventress spat.

Ahsoka snorted, but gave her a feral grin. "And I still think you're a harpy. Just so we're clear."

It was the first time Ahsoka saw Ventress give a smile that was not cold.

They turned towards the door, paused, senses reaching beyond it. There was no one nearby. The two women quickly slipped back down the hallway, back through the air vents, back through security measures, one by one, resetting them in silence.

They passed out of the factory's perimeter, and into a maze of sewers. Rainwater dripped down from a grate overhead, and flowed past their feet. Ventress lifted the hood of her cloak back over her head. Ahsoka had a strange urge to thank Ventress for the help she had ended up offering, but knew gratitude would not be welcomed. Ventress resettled her cloak around her, turned, and began to walk away.

"Ventress," Ahsoka said, feeling as though she were taking a great risk. The Rattataki paused, turned slightly, enough for a dim profile of her face to be seen beyond the edge of the hood. Ahsoka bit her lip, took a breath. There was something inexplicably changed about Ventress. And no hint of what she said was a lie. Still, it felt strange, what she was about to offer. She said, "My ship. It's called the Drake." She frowned. "If you need anything."

That much should be more than enough information for the assassin to find her again. She only hoped it wouldn't be to hunt her down. Risk. Enormous risk, but if it were true, that she had turned from the dark, enormous hope. She could see Ventress' expression, and it was, for just a moment, surprised. Then she looked away, the cloak hiding her again. She stood still. Ahsoka began to leave, but then Ventress spoke.

"Did he die well?" A beat. "Kenobi."

Ahsoka turned back. Ventress had not moved. It seemed a strange question. "No." There was a barely perceptible stiffening of Ventress' back. She stood slightly straighter. Ahsoka shifted, tilting her head to the side and wondering why it was being asked. Carefully, she added, "He didn't die at all."

There was a stab of something so complex that shot through the Force, Ahsoka could not make sense of it. It was tamped down just as quickly as it appeared.

The dark space was very quiet when Ventress said, "Good. That's good."

And then was gone.

Ahsoka lifted her commlink, turned it on and said, "Fall back guys. I'm on my way up. Let's go home."

It was a cheap cantina. A cheap, crowded cantina.

A band was playing in a corner, noisily. Smoke drifted in stinking clouds overhead, as members of a dozen different species worked their way around the room or sat in corners. Ahsoka hoped whatever she'd been called out for was worth it. She leaned on the bar, trying to look interested in the amber colored ale sitting before her, and ignore how dirty the glass was. She lifted it to her lips and pretended to drink.

A human man leaned himself against the bar beside her, grinning tipsily and facing her. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, and became very interested in her alcohol, hoping the idiot would just go away.

Of course, he didn't. He began to reach out, aiming for her lekku. "Hey," he said, and as his fingers came close to touching her, she smacked them away and glared.

"Kark off, sleemo," she snarled, revealing predatory teeth.

The man smiled wider, hand reaching out again. "Don't be like that…"

He got about that far before it turned into a yelp of pain. Ahsoka's hand shot out, wrapped around his, flipped his arm over while twisting on his thumb. She jerked the hand upward while pushing back on his wrist. Bones grated against each other while she pressed down on nerve endings. He went down. A few people crowded nearby skittered away in case a fight was about to begin.

"What part of 'kark off, sleemo' sounded like 'please touch' to you?"

He tried to jerk his hand free, but all it did was make the lock tighter. Ahsoka bent his hand back further, causing a wild screech and for him to fall backward from his knees to his ass. She sighed. What was it? The facial markings? Her being small? Did she really look like such an easy target? Sleemo. Did all females have to put up with this? Seriously. She sighed again, looking down at the man as he tried to wriggle his way out of her grip and failed. He flopped around on the floor rather comically. A few snickers and giggles could be heard from those watching.

A voice sounded close to her. "You draw too much attention to yourself."

Ahsoka turned enough to see the hooded figure of Ventress step beside her, head tilted down to watch the struggling man on the floor. She was frowning, a brow raised in distain. The man caught sight of the pale woman, stared for a moment, then turned a ghastly shade of white as he looked between the two.

"Sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know she was with you! I'm sorry!" Ahsoka blinked in surprise, then noticed how the crowd had drawn further back, and a great deal of the cantina had gone silent. Music from the band sputtered and died. The man began yanking on his own arm, desperately trying to get away.

Ventress turned, cloak rippling slightly at the motion. "Come with me," she said, beginning to walk away. A path quickly cleared for her as people scattered.

Ahsoka gave the man a final, irritated glare, and released his hand. He scrambled backward into the legs of a stool, cradling one arm in the other, looking up at her fearfully, entirely sober now.

Ventress led her into an alleyway outside. Music began to slowly strike up again, hesitantly at first, then more normally as the event began to pass. Ahsoka frowned as Ventress turned back to face her. "You're late."

"I was detained," came the reply, and then Ventress tossed something small and dark at her. Ahsoka caught it, turned it over in her palm.

"A datastick? What's on it?"

Ventress shrugged. "Something that interests me little, but I thought you would find useful."

Ahsoka shot her a skeptical look. "You called me all the way out here for this?"

She received a glare. Ahsoka tried to look affronted, lifting her chin and folding her arms.

"As I said, it's something you'll find useful." She glanced around as though somewhat disgusted at their surroundings. A pile of the cantina's garbage sat not far from them, giving off a most unpleasant odor. A bit of dull light slashed across the alley from the cracked open doorway.

Ahsoka jerked her head towards the cantina. "You seem popular."

A familiar, wicked smile curled up the lips of Ventress' face. She put on an almost pompous air. "They understand my charm."

Ahsoka snorted once with laughter, then caught herself. It still felt bizarre, talking to Ventress instead of trying to not get herself killed. Her mouth twisted into a deliberate frown, not wanting to suggest a state of companionability. They seemed, for the time being at least, more or less on the same side, but it was an uncomfortable truce, to Ahsoka at least. She tucked the proffered datastick into a pocket on her belt.

There was a scream in the night. It was not from the cantina, but in the distance, and it was laced with fear. Ahsoka took several steps forward, down the alley. "A fight?" She paused, looked back at Ventress, who was staring out towards the sky in the direction of the sound, still with a faint kind of grin on her face.

She told her, evenly, "I suggest you leave quickly, brat. Either that, or stay in the cantina until it's over. It's one of the safe locations."

"What's happening?" The words were followed by a distant rumble, the ground trembling underfoot for a moment. It happened a second time, closer, further to the west. It was not the steady drumming of cannon, but it was the distant blasting thrum of ordinance detonating. A third blast boomed in the distance. Over the tops of roofs, streams of smoke began to form, blotting out the sky. A siren picked up, wailing in the night. "What have you done?"

"I lit a match," Ventress said. "And gave a little guidance. There seems to be none. Perhaps they'll survive the night."

"You started a rebellion?" Ahsoka stared, shocked.

"No. I merely gave one a focus. Direction." Ventress looked at her, hard. "They still will not succeed. One group on one planet is not enough. But it is a start, and it must begin somewhere."

A part of Ahsoka wanted to be horrified. There was another detonation, another explosion. Lives were being stamped out. They guttered through the Force and were gone. Another part of her knew this was the only way of striking back at the Empire. They were outgunned, outmatched, overwhelmed. This was a scream of defiance. Still, a small group, a small cell. Buildings being destroyed in the night, unwarned, outside of battle. It would be called terrorism by the Empire. She shuddered.

Ventress moved back towards the door and waited. The cantina had quieted again, as the ground shook. There was something akin to pity on her face as she looked at the young Togruta. "This isn't your kind of fight. Noble heroics and daring deeds." She seemed sad. "Your hands are better kept clean."

The door was held open. Quiet talking could be heard inside, fearful talking, whispers. Ahsoka shook her head, looked up at Ventress. She gleamed with determination, sorrow, certainty.

"Doing what is necessary," Ahsoka managed, quietly, unsure of how she meant it. She could not share in the certainty. The faith that such actions were right. Or wrong. She squeezed her eyes shut. The Empire would retaliate, doing what they thought was necessary. It would not end. She looked to Ventress, then away, left unsure. "I'll head back to my ship."

As she ran, she did not hear a voice behind her say, "May the Force be with you."

It was a list.

Names scrolled across the computer screen, and it took the four of them only a few seconds to recognize what it was of, once the datastick's files were unloaded into their computer.

Ahsoka's name was on it. So was Obi-Wan's. They were both marked as dead. Yoda was marked as missing. Other names, names of those not yet even in the Order, scrolled by. Dead, dead, dead. Missing, dead. Dead. At large.

There were not many, but there were some.

"Survivors," Ahsoka breathed.

If anyone is interested in having the songs to this fic, I've uploaded them online. If you'd like the link to them, please drop me a line and I'd be happy to send it along.

This chapter was another hard one. I love Ventress as an antagonist, and really wanted to bring her back – she's a great foil for Ahsoka. It would have been fun writing this chapter from Ventress' point of view, I think, as well as Ahsoka's, to try to explain her behavior. Nina Simone's Pirate Jenny really has that dark, eerie feeling I associate with Ventress, and a kind of wicked ambiguity in its morality. It's always difficult writing characters for the first time, so hopefully she's in character.

Hope you enjoyed.

~Queen