By the time her first day rolled around the bruise on Ahsoka's cheek had mostly faded and her split lip had all but healed. The tiredness still weighed her down, long nights of checking the horizon and coaxing Luke and Leia to sleep through the night but she didn't resent it. She felt cheerful as they sped across the desert, the Chott salt flat glimmering in the distance. The twins were safely strapped in beside her, and the speeder was a far smoother ride ever since she'd gotten her hands on the engine. She was buoyant. It was hard not to be with the lingering feel of a fight still in her limbs, a fresh determination in her heart.
Beru must have seen her from a distance as she was still unstrapping the twins when the door opened.
"Ready for your first day?" She asked as she accepted Leia.
Ahsoka took her time untangling Luke. "Yeah, I think I am. Nothing I haven't done before."
There was a flutter of anticipation that belied her words. She had told Beru the truth; she was ready. Ready for work, ready to provide, and ready for some more security. But she would be lying if she said she wasn't a little nervous at the prospect.
Owen emerged from the house, already dressed for a day's work on the farm. She saw him look over her face, lingering on the bruise and split lip. She had commed the night of the attack to make them aware of a threat in the area but had added little more. He made no comment. He didn't wish her luck before she left but she didn't expect him to. Instead he cast an eye over her speeder, nodded at her repairs and told her she'd be expected at dinner tonight.
She watched for a moment as the Larses disappeared back into their abode, taking both of her children with them. She waited for fear or unease but felt none. She climbed back into her speeder, waited for the door to close behind them and set off for Mos Eisley.
She wouldn't go as far to say that the desert was familiar to her yet, but she adjusted her heading automatically and it seemed a shorter journey every time she went into the city. Mos Eisley grew from the horizon as it did every time and Ahsoka made her way through the outer streets without the anxiety that had accompanied her other trips.
Perhaps it was false bravado but it felt as though something had shifted in her since the attack on her home. She felt more equipped for this backwater town and she wondered if the people she passed could see it in her too or if it was her imagination. She felt purpose in her stride as she made her way through the streets, ducking through the doorway to the auto-shop, a bell going overhead to announce her arrival.
If she had expected Varn Abana to be there as she entered she would have been disappointed. The suns were only just beginning their climb for the day and from her impression of him she thought there was a decent chance he was still suffering from the previous night. There was a staircase going off from the backrooms, likely to an overhead apartment, and she wondered if he was still up there, dead to the world.
But she was not alone. The Twi'lek woman who had been in the office on her previous trip came to meet her at the door. Once more, Ahsoka placed her as older than herself and, despite her narrowed eyes and pursed mouth that gave her a somewhat pinched look, very beautiful. Ahsoka herself had never been particularly vain but for moment she wished she wouldn't be at risk of splitting her lip back open when she smiled.
She tried anyway and stuck out her hand. "Ashla Sokath." She said, and waited.
The woman looked at her strangely, and Ahsoka wondered if people shook hands here as a custom, but she took the proffered hand delicately and shook it once. "Ennen." Was all she said before going back to her silent scrutiny.
Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably. "Do you know what-"
The ceiling creaked and there was a muffled sound of footsteps above. In the blink of an eye Ennen disappeared from in front of her, ducking back into her office. Ahsoka heard more steps, a curse, and a squeak of the staircase.
Varn seemed surprised when he turned the corner to see her standing in the shop. He was wearing what might have been the same shirt she had seen previously and he squinted at her as though trying to place her face.
"Was that today?" He asked her before sighing and rubbing a palm over his face. "Right, come on then."
She followed him around the desk and almost ran into his back when he stopped abruptly at the doorway of the office.
Ennen was poised with her pen above a thick tome that, upon closer inspection, looked to be full of accounts. She laid her pen down and stood when he entered the room, bowing her head deferentially.
"This here is Ennen. Ennen, make sure you listen to…to…" He looked at her in askance.
"Ashla."
"You mind Ashla like you did the last one. Got it?"
Her eyes flashed but she dipped her head again. "Yes, Depur."
Ahsoka felt uneasy as they left the room, Ennen still standing behind her turned back, but Varn either didn't notice or didn't care. He led her back to the workshop and stood in the doorway.
"This'll be you then." He said and waved her through. If anything the space was worse than when she had fixed her speeder. It looked as though someone had gathered whatever they could from the shop floor and dumped them in the hope that she would know what to do with them. She turned on the spot, taking it in.
"You'll work on commission." He said. "10%."
Ahsoka looked at him. "40%"
She thought he looked a bit sick as he looked at her. "12%"
Ahsoka thought of the bandits, her home, and the two little children depending on her. "20%," she said, and waited until he visibly calmed before adding, "and a base rate per day."
His bloodshot eyes bugged but she waited for him to splutter his protests. "I can leave." She said flatly and waited. There were a few more moments of bluster before he deflated.
"Fine." He said.
She didn't smile when she held out her hand for the second time that morning, but it was a close thing. He shook it somewhat sourly and Ahsoka squeezed it briefly. No harm in letting him know, she thought to herself as he tried to discreetly flex some feeling back into it.
"Let's get started then." She said brightly, "Where's your project list?"
Her new employer seemed to have no wish to spend anymore time in her company than absolutely necessary. He all but threw the manifest at her and left. She heard his heavy footfall all the way back up the stairs into what she assumed were his personal quarters.
The manifest painted a sorry picture indeed. She wandered around her new workspace trying to match projects to entries. It was a wonder the doors to this place were still open at all, she thought in amazement as she noted some of the dates that the projects were listed. She guessed that her predecessor must have left around six months prior for it seemed nothing had been finished since. Anything that was listed as completed, upon inspection, seemed to be nothing more than a shoddy patch job. Ennen's hint the second time Ahsoka visited made more sense in hindsight. This place must be a money pit, she thought to herself. Owen and Beru had told her in no uncertain terms not to take favours or loans from any Hutts, or even anyone associated with them, and she hoped that at some point someone had given the same advice to Varn. She didn't want to know what they would do to a business that failed to make their payments.
She snapped the manifest closed. Before she could think about making repairs to anything in this place she needed to know what she was dealing with.
She began organising everything into simple piles: junk and not-junk. Occasionally she felt eyes on her back but she didn't stop. By the time midday rolled around she had sweat through her vest, but she also had a better idea of what she was working with.
There was a lot to learn but she wasn't alarmed. Learning was all she had done with her life so far, from the halls of the Temple to the command tents on planets she couldn't even remember the names of. It was a relief to see the sort of problems she was dealing with here; malfunctioning speeder bikes, rusted through axels and even the occasional droid that did nothing but stutter when she tried to turn them on.
The relief felt like a light within her, pumping in tandem with every beat of her heart. It felt foreign already, especially in a place like this, but she would take it.
As the suns hit their zenith she looked around in satisfaction. She would need to make a proper inventory, dig out the flimsies for most of the engines here or create her own, and many other things besides but it was progress. Real, actual, tangible progress.
And progress called for celebration.
The market was two streets away and if she left out the back door of the workshop then Varn would never even hear the bell go. In any case, she was getting the feeling that he might be as desperate as her, and he had the disadvantage of being worse at hiding it.
She hesitated before she went and popped her head into Ennen's office.
"I'm going to grab a caf, do you want-", but Ennen shot her such a dark look she ducked back out without finishing her sentence. Alright then, she was only trying to be polite.
The market didn't seem as intimidating now that she could recognise familiar faces and she managed to find what she wanted quickly. She was back before she was even missed. There was a time, not so long ago, when a cup of caf wouldn't even have registered to her. But as it was she took her time to breathe in the scent before taking her first sip. It was scalding and she hummed in pleasure.
Master Obi-Wan had despaired of the amount of caf she and Anakin could drink between them but-
No, not today. Today was a good day.
She stayed in the workshop for a few more hours until she was satisfied with her progress. The place was nowhere close to being tidy but she could see the path of her work laid out before her.
As the suns began their descent she packed her belongings. She was glad she had insisted on the flat daily rate, even if it wasn't much. She was even gladder she caught Varn on his way out the shop to collect it. He grumbled but she smiled and felt the pull on her lip from the split. He handed it over with little further complaining.
She waved to Ennen before she left and, even though she didn't leave back, Ahsoka was still smiling as she climbed into her speeder. She thought she almost ought to temper her good mood; it was a very small amount of success that had made her feel so giddy. But more than her good day it was the promise of more to come that made everything seem less insurmountable. Her problems seemed more manageable with a few coins in her pocket and a safe place for the children.
She mellowed as she approached the Wastes. She wouldn't call Tatooine beautiful, at least not in her understanding of the word, but like this, alone in every direction for miles and miles, she did feel an odd sense of calm. The sky was a darkening blue, the dunes a rich yellow. In the far distance she could see a herd of Bantha and she resisted the childish urge to salute them as she sped past.
Eventually, she came to the Larses homestead once more. With a more practiced eye she could see things she hadn't thought to look for the first time she had arrived on their doorsteps. Their home was large and had enough vaporators to provide a decent income. On their doorstep a few hardy plants were potted neatly into ceramic planters.
She knocked on the door and crossed the threshold when she heard Beru call her in. Beru was in the kitchen but Ahsoka barely noticed before when she caught sight of the twins. They were both laying on rugs on the floor, merrily grabbing at a suspended mobile above them. Leia was closest and Ahsoka stooped to scoop her up. Still buoyed by her day she settled her on her hip and did a little half turn, bouncing her weight from side to side. She made a face and laughed when Leia patted her cheek. Beru came over with a smile and accepted Leia as Ahsoka bent down to say hello to Luke. He had a gummy smile and he was using it to full effect. Their minds were becoming less ephemeral everyday and the feeling of their contentment, such a bright mixture of comfort and happiness, was a balm to almost everything she had encountered on Tatooine so far.
She took his little hand in hers and blew a raspberry on the back of it.
Luke laughed.
Ahsoka turned wide-eyed to Beru, who looked back at her just as amazed. "Was that the first time he…?" She asked.
Ahsoka nodded.
"Do it again." Beru urged, leaning forward.
Ahsoka raised his hand again and blew a raspberry. Luke's laughter was bright and it made her want to laugh right along with him. Beru did. She could feel the happiness radiating from him; it was a simple emotion in that he didn't know why they were laughing with him, only that they were. The why wasn't important.
His happy burbles began to tail off after a while and Ahsoka was left just holding him as he tried to grab at her finger. It had been the first real joy she had seen since she arrived on Tatooine— no, further back than that. It had only been three years of her life but the war was a terrible obelisk in her mind, casting dark shadows where only the most fleeting of sparks could be classed as true happiness. She had been happy with the clones, with her master, but it was a different kind of happiness, wild and snatched. She felt her mood settle into something a little more melancholic around the edges as she looked at Luke. They were more settled here, but this, this, how could it be anything other than joy? Perhaps this was the true victory they had been chasing across the galaxy, across dunes and star systems alike.
Luke, as if sensing her sudden dour thoughts, blew a spit bubble.
Ahsoka gave a sharp laugh, drawn out of herself suddenly. She used the back of her sleeve to wipe his mouth and shook off the last of her reverie.
"You're good with them, you know."
She turned to see Beru staring at her, still holding Leia, an odd expression on her face. With her head tilted and her eyes shrewd, it gave Ahsoka the uncomfortable sensation of being studied.
"What?"
Beru straightened and jostled Leia, still in her arms. "The children. You're good with them."
"Oh…thanks?" She said, a little uncertainly, "I think I'm still learning a lot of it, I don't really feel like I know what I'm doing. Like, at all."
"Knowledge comes with time and practice." Beru said, "I think you've understood most important parts."
Ahsoka tried to keep smiling against the swelling emotion in her chest. Beru had heard what she had whispered to the children upon parting and there was no shame in it, not here in this new life she was building. She tried to force a chuckle but ended up just looking down at Luke. "I wouldn't have lasted more than a week on this planet without you and Owen. Not just the local stuff but…you know so much. I'd never even held a baby before them."
Ahsoka could feel the emotions shifting through Beru, muted as was usual for her, but in constant motion. She didn't look up from Luke as she tried to give her as much privacy as she could.
Beru spoke quietly, each word deliberate, and Ahsoka found herself looking despite herself. "You got them here," Beru said, "and you found us. You were doing just fine and I have no doubt you would have continued to do just fine. And as for knowledge, it is as I said before. It is practice. I have born two children in this desert though neither are living now. Trust me when I say it is no small feat to raise a child in this place."
Ahsoka's eyes snapped up. She didn't know what to say. Beru didn't looked distressed by what she had shared though Ahsoka felt the roil of emotions in the Force. It was a deep emotion but somehow settled, as though Beru had long ago accepted it but simply refused to release it until it had become a part of her.
"I'm sorry." She said eventually.
Beru smiled and hitched Leia a little closer. "I didn't tell you for sympathy." She said firmly, "But I want you to understand and I'm telling you because no one else will. You're doing well by those children and we both see it. You are enough, Ashla."
Hearing her new name was jarring, but perhaps not as much as it should have been. She tried to let the sentiment roll over her, to absorb it and believe it. She tried to return Beru's smile.
After that it wasn't long until Owen joined then, hands still dirty from the vaporators. With the twins settled and everyone around the table, Beru served up their meal. Ahsoka had once again provided her own, and though the protein pack was no more appetising for having been served on different plates it was at least more enjoyable with company.
Owen was taciturn by nature but over the course of the evening he interrogated her thoroughly about her new employment. He listened carefully when she described her impression of Varn and the shop and seemed satisfied when she had detailed her work load and rate of pay. She released her apprehension into the Force gradually as he nodded at her decisions.
"Any other workers?" He asked as the meal wound to a close and they sat with their drinks, water from the vaporators outside.
Ahsoka thought of Ennen with her lilac skin and squinting face. "One other." She said, and then paused before finding the words with difficulty, "She's a slave."
Owen didn't say anything but she got the feeling he was cataloguing her reaction. It made her uneasy to think of working beside Ennen day and in and day out, all the while knowing that she lived a life utterly beholden to another. When Ahsoka went home to her newly carved life, Ennen would continue under the thrall of another, even one as bungling as Varn. Every part of her moved her to speak, to act, to in some way try and help. As a Jedi, or as one who had been a Jedi, it was an imperative to feel injustice and act upon it. Simply as a sentient being in the galaxy the thought of inaction was abhorrent.
And yet, as the guardian of two children her actions were not wholly her own. She couldn't put them in danger, no matter how much she chastised herself for it.
She darted a glance at Owen across the table.
"Nothing you can do." He said eventually, "Treat her as kind as you can but don't draw any attention to her. She won't thank you for it."
Beru had already risen to clear the table as they talked and made to refill Ahsoka's mug with water. Ahsoka tried to refuse, now intimately aware of the work that went into dragging and coaxing water from the desert ,but Beru shook her head.
"You're not under any obligation here." She said and filled it.
Ahsoka took it gratefully and sipped the water. It was warm and brackish, and yet it seemed finer than anything that had ever been served to her at the Temple. For a moment, her thoughts returned to Ennen as Beru's words turned in her mind. What would a mug of caf look like to someone who had nothing to give in return? How far would obligation stretch in such an unequal exchange? Ennen's dark look flashed through her mind before she forcibly put the ordeal to rest.
The night wore on, and before long she was gathering the children and trying once more to find the right words to express her gratitude. Once more she was waved off into the gathering night.
With both children drowsy and content the journey back to their own home seemed shorter than usual. With a little trepidation of fully waking them, Ahsoka carried them both to their cots and laid them down gently. There was a hairy moment when Leia seemed to wake but her eyes were heavy and, with a snuffle, she settled back into sleep. Ahsoka released her breath.
She smoothed a hand over their heads, brushed the little wisps of Leia's hair and ran a finger over Luke's fat little fist. It felt like a stolen moment which she shouldn't have been privy to witness. Padmé should be witnessing these little firsts and Anakin should be the one hovering over their bedsides, marvelling at each breath. She was only beginning to scratch out a life for them here and while she could play at being guardian and protector it felt like a veneer over the terror that lurked within her.
None of it should have been her, but here she was; last man standing.
With the sound of their easy breathing and a day's work behind her, she allowed herself a moment to release her doubt into the Force. Today had been a good day, there was no need to sully it.
Eventually, she walked silently from their room. Her own nighttime routine felt paltry after the logistics that were required to corral two babies into sleeping, and in no time at all she slipped into her own bed, exhausted. She was still settling into her new life on Tatooine in so many ways but today had been a victory, even if only in the smallest and most ordinary of ways. Endless days stretched out before her with just as many challenges and heartaches, but she put them aside. Tomorrow she would deal with them all, for tonight she was done.
Slowly, her future began to unspool before her and time was no longer measured in days, but in weeks and then, eventually, in months. Ahsoka wouldn't say, even to herself, that life had become easy only that she was beginning understand the pattern of it.
As her first year on Tatooine came to a close she found she had collected many things: a newfound respect for the intricacies that trading quart of water could require on the market, the mechanical skills needed to repair an engine choked with sand and three more challenges on her home.
None of the interlopers had been as well prepared as Cen and his men and she had chased them off easily. She knew they appeared an easy target so far from civilisation and so near to the Wastes, and though she wished she could say that the message was received after the first attack it took a little while for people to realise. Slavers mostly, a few belligerents and an opportunist or two.
She saw them off with her lightsabers hanging untouched at her belt and two more in a box under her bed that she still couldn't bring herself to look at. Her blaster had sufficed and the one and only time it had jammed (the damed sand) she had thrown it aside and won anyway. The last attempt had been half-hearted at best and her main concern afterward had been that she wasn't sure at what age human children started to retain their memories. She hadn't wanted them to see her like that, but when she reentered their homestead Luke had babbled at her happily and Leia had patted her cheek when she reached down to check on her. It wasn't until Ahsoka made it to the 'fresher and looked in the mirror that she saw the spatter of blood on her face. She sighed.
Still, by the time she had made it a complete year in the desert there were no more unwelcome visitors and it seemed they had learned not to appear at the Sokath homestead without prior invitation.
A whole year. It seemed madness to believe that a year had passed. Worse than that, it was absurd. She blamed the children. It had been easy to let time pass unmarked during the war when her concept of the future only stretched as far as the end of her mission but that was hardly an option now that Luke and Leia seemed to change every time she looked away for a moment. Leia's hair had thickened into a dark brown cap on her head, curling at her ears, whereas Luke's remained stubbornly blond. He was a cheerful little soul with the most utterly contagious laugh Ahsoka had ever heard. Leia was all determination and the first to pull herself up onto her chubby little legs for her first tottering steps. It had almost given Ahsoka a heart attack to turn around and see her standing under her own power.
Sometimes she forgot— as stupid as it sounded in her own head— that they would not be babies forever. She was looking after two children who would become their own people completely independent of her.
But not just yet.
It was easy to lose herself in the rhythm of work and the minutia of raising the children. To her faint amusement, it was not the teachings or ideals of the Jedi that got her through the late nights and occasional tantrums, but the determination of a soldier. If someone had told her a year ago that she would go hungry, cold and tired for these children who were no relation to her she would have believed them. She would, however, have doubted that she would be happy to do so. It was impossible to hold herself separate from them, and she could no more do so than carve her own heart from her chest. In some distant part of her heart she still remembered the old maxims on attachment but they contended with a lurking truth; that with every day that passed, she saw them less and less as the children of Anakin and Padmé and more as her very own.
But it was easy to put thoughts like that aside when they were only ever one disaster away from destitution. On that particular morning the disaster had come in the form of a call from Owen.
"You checked the weather warnings?" He asked when she answered.
There had been a moment of dread when she had seen his strained expression and then a second subsidiary moment of dread when Leia tried to turn on her arms and rub mashed pallie fruit on her lek, but she tried to smile. She spared a thought to be grateful she lacked hair.
"Saw it this morning." She told him. "Sandstorm hitting sometime tonight, right?"
He grunted. "Category two, but it'll hit hard from the Wastes. You got everything you need?"
In many ways Owen was less emotive than his wife but Ahsoka could never doubt that he cared about the children, probably all three of them. Behind the grainy picture of Owen, she saw Beru in the background.
He listened as she listed off their supplies. "Bring your speeder in before it hits or it won't start tomorrow."
"Will do." She said.
"And bar the doors."
"Uh-huh."
"And don't forget to close the ports on the vaporator."
"Got it."
He looked at her for a long moment before relaxing. "Alright." He said eventually.
"Oh, one more question." She said brightly, and he leaned forward. "Should I bother closing the windows?"
She couldn't hold back a grin and she heard Beru laugh in the background. Owen turned to his wife. "You see this? Seventeen and thinks she's an expert already." He was grumbling, but Ahsoka caught the edge of good humour in his voice.
"Eighteen." She said, taking Leia's hand in her own to stop it from smacking her in the face. Suspiciously sticky. She decided not to think about it. "The extra year makes all the difference."
Her birthday had passed unmarked a couple of months prior but she hadn't minded the lack of fuss. Her last birthday had been at the Temple, and the two before that had occurred on a relief mission to the Outer Rim and a medical evac ship respectively. She didn't feel any older than she did then. Master Obi-Wan once said in her hearing that she was barely more than a child. She didn't think he'd meant for her to hear and at the time she'd felt greatly offended but she thought she understood better now. She wasn't even done growing yet. She'd used to tease them both that she'd be taller than them one day. Master Obi-Wan had taken it in good grace, likely from having been outgrown by a padawan before, but Anakin had taken it to heart. She'd laughed at the time.
The transmission wavered again.
"You should have said something, Ashla." Said Beru, leaning over her husband. "We could have packed you off to one of the cantinas for you to be young while you can!"
It was a kind sentiment and mostly a joke so Ahsoka laughed, but in truth she had no desire to pursue it. She had done her fair share of sneaking from the Temple with some of the older Padawans down to the lower levels but it felt like another life. Or rather, it felt like a long-distant youth that she could barely remember. She tried to picture what a night out would look like now but couldn't, so she tried to remember instead.
The last time she had had a sip of any kind of alcohol had been…it would have been on Shi'so. A Mid-Rim mining colony that had appealed to the Senate for aid over an encroaching Separatist presence. She had gone with Anakin and the 501st, only to rendezvous with the 212th on their return. It had become a joint operation and was swiftly dealt with. It hadn't been much of a threat for the joint forces of the Open Circle Fleet but the local settlement had been grateful and thrown a small celebration in their honour. Rex had taken her mug from her with a disapproving face, and Anakin had nodded solemnly before letting her have a sip from his. She'd only been 15 but it was a celebration and the mood was raucous.
"Anakin!" Had come a shocked voice from behind both of them and she had nearly spat the drink back out in surprise. Master Obi-Wan had radiated disapproval as he took the mug from her.
"Honestly," he muttered, reaching for his own canteen, "I raised you better than that. She's a commander for Force's sake, you can't give her that swill. Here, try this."
It had only been the smallest of sips but she had felt like the warmth of it settled in her chest. She wasn't stupid, she knew it wasn't the alcohol but it had felt like acceptance of her as an adult, or at least something close to it.
The night had carried on and she remembered laughing so hard she thought she was going to be sick. Anakin had had much more than a single sip and had spent his last hour pretending to panic as his arm fell off in front of horrified Shinies who hadn't been around long enough to know to ignore him yet. He was happy like that, flushed with victory, and Ahsoka could remember how free he'd been with his touch as Master Obi-Wan struggled to keep them walking in a straight line with Anakin's arm slung around his shoulder and bearing half his weight.
"Learn from the bad example your master is setting, Ahsoka." He'd said as he struggled to keep them walking in a straight line.
She couldn't remember what happened next but it was probably another mission or down time at the Temple cut short again. She couldn't have known it at the time, but that night was a shining jewel studded in her memory, one last moment before everything went irreparably wrong. That was the Anakin she wanted to remember. She wished that there was someone left in the galaxy she could tell that story to who could understand what it was to have loved him once.
But memories belonged in the past.
She'd carried on with Beru, laughing where she should but letting the conversation wind down. It wouldn't be many more hours before the storm and already the transmission was growing patchy. Before they left Owen asked her one more time.
"You're sure you've got everything you need? It's not too late to come over."
She smiled at him, touched. "We're all set, I promise."
He nodded once and let her say her goodbyes. The transmission winked out and the house was still for a moment. She looked up at the light well in the ceiling. The darkening sky didn't look particularly foreboding to her, but she wouldn't be able to read the signs even if she could see them.
"Come on." She said to the children, struck by a sudden idea, "We've got a couple of hours yet."
Carefully, she carried them both up to the roof, where she kept a steady hand on them as she looked up. She didn't know why it seemed so important but she wanted them to see the stars as they emerged from the gathering darkness of the night sky.
"I don't know what they call the constellations here." She told them both, "But where I come from we call that one the Martyr." She traced a hand along the line of it and watched as the children followed the line of her finger. They were too young to understand but they watched her with rapt attention. She hoped one day they would do this again when they were old enough to understand. She hoped that they could look up at the stars and feel the same wonder she had once felt. "And that one there, we used to call that the Burning Snake. It looks different here but…"
She tailed off as she sat with her head tipped back. This far into the desert the stars would soon light the night sky, pinpricks of far off life in the inky expanse of Tatooine's sky. Perhaps it should feel lonely but Ahsoka prayed that everything would stay far away, that they could remain here safely hidden.
She started suddenly when Luke grabbed her hand and bit her finger. She laughed and, on impulse, gathered them both close.
It was easy to close her eyes and breathe them in.
"Right." She said eventually, when Leia began to squirm, "Time to batten down the hatches I think."
It didn't take long to bolt the doors and shutter the windows, nor to stuff rags in any of the cracks where wind or sand might whistle through. She cheated with the light well on the ceiling and it barred itself with a flick of her wrist.
She thought about putting the children into their own room but in the end she carried them both through to hers. She told herself it was for their comfort but, in truth, she wouldn't feel at ease unless she could see both of them as the storm passed overhead.
She had them mostly settled by the time the storm reached them. The shutters rattled in their frames as the wind howled past and she could hear gales of sand battering the doors. Leia was sleeping tucked into the crook of her neck, and, if she didn't wake at the slightest noise every morning, Ahsoka would have thought she was deaf. Luke was clinging to consciousness though barely. His eyes drooped lower and lower. Ahsoka found herself humming over the sound of the storm until he too dropped off.
She wasn't sure if she slept; she must have done so in snatches she supposed. She drifted for the most part, the weight of the children a comfort to her. Her mind felt sluggish and her limbs heavy, but in time she opened her eyes to silence from outside. Both of the children were still asleep and she carefully extricated herself from them. The air was still. The storm was over.
When she removed the shutters from the windows she thought for a moment it was still night when no light came through. She squinted and then sighed. It was merely covered in sand and she realised what a laborious job it was going to be to once again dig out their home.
The day's tasks were already casting long shadows but she took a moment for breakfast. She was still rubbing the grit from her eyes as she forced herself to eat her own protein rations. She'd managed to scrounge together the money for a few scraps of meat from the market once or twice since they'd settled, but it was an infrequent occurrence. Even more so since the children had slowly begun to progress onto solid food. Despite no longer buying formula in bulk their economic margins were still thinner than she would like.
The children were still asleep for the moment but Ahsoka knew it wouldn't last long with their breakfast on its way. She unbarred the rest of the windows, pulled the rags from their ledges and tried to raise the Lars household. The call didn't go through. She sighed but was unsurprised. When she went to open her front door she had to shove at it to get it to open past the buildup of sand. She peered outside. Their communication array had survived. The fault must have been on Owen and Beru's side.
There was a grizzling from the twin's room and a thin cry that would grow into a full tantrum if left unchecked. Both of them were awake when she entered and Luke reached up his arms to be picked up.
"Well, kids," she told them seriously, "looks like you'll be coming into work with me today."
The thought of it kept her preoccupied while she fed them their breakfast and wrangled them into acceptable clothes. She wasn't worried for the Larses, they had been far better prepared than she, but she couldn't leave them with two toddlers when they were trying to get their communications back up and running and their home functioning again. Besides, she'd never been explicitly told that she couldn't bring Luke and Leia into work with her. Varn wasn't the type to see past the end of his own nose so long as the day's work was done. He'd be fine with it.
Right?
Right.
It would be fine. Absolutely fine, she told herself as she strapped an extra blaster to her hip under the fold of her poncho. A little of her old wariness began to creep in at the thought of the children coming to town with her now that they were less content to simply be carried and hidden under her clothes but there was nothing to be done.
But there were advantages too: only last week the last of Cen's men, the boy she had let live, had walked past the shopfront and seen her. He'd all but fled, his skin a pasty white. Nobody was going to try anything, she told herself and tried to believe it.
Despite the general mayhem and Leia's loud disinclination towards socks, they were in the speeder and on their way earlier than Ahsoka usually left. She thought furiously all the way over the dunes. She'd pull up around the back and use— well, what was there? She was sure she had some corrugated sheeting left over from the Windchaser's old vaporator, she could make some sort of pen or…?
She hadn't figured it out by the time she pulled up around the back of the shop. She got the bag of hastily thrown together supplies out first and cast a critical eye around. It was a lot more organised than it had been when she had first started, with some semblance of order peeking out through the chaos, but it still took a few minutes to clear a space and gather what she wanted. A few more minutes and she had a rudimentary playpen, or at least that was what she was sticking with. She stood back and shook out her cramping hands. It was a clear space with no sharp corners or small objects that she was sure Luke would try and put in his mouth. It was cordoned off from her work floor and strewn with every remotely soft fabric she could find.
It would have to do.
She needn't have been so worried about how it turned out. In their short lives Luke and Leia hadn't seen very many new places. They knew home, they knew the Larses and the knew the speeder which was used to ferry them between the two. She'd thought about it before, the need to expand their circle beyond the three of them, but there always seemed to be more immediate problems. Looking at the both of them and their curiosity over her dingy little workspace she wondered if she hadn't been doing them a disservice.
She stepped back and looked at them once more before she started with her work. She spared a moment to be grateful that she didn't have anyone coming in until mid-afternoon. Although it felt a little like cheating, she she felt for them in the Force. A bright spark of curiosity, an eagerness to explore and an underlying thrum of energy. General restlessness, she thought to herself, of all the things to inherit from their father.
The thought didn't hurt as much as it usually would have, not with the day stretching out in front of her and the feeling of the twins' coalescing minds beside her.
She worked as quickly as she could, ignoring the sounds of Varn and Ennen in the office and overhead. She talked as she worked, walking the twins through the finer steps of flushing a fuel tank and draining the knock-off gas that Geta Biggs had been conned into thinking was the real thing. Mid-morning she stepped way from her work and fed them, half her mind on the door as she watched them take sips of water. It was a good thing too; no sooner had she returned them to their cushions and meagre toys than the door was flung open.
Leia shrieked, and her brother soon joined her as Varn stormed in.
"Sokath, where's the Mardar hover bike compressors? They were meant to be done two days ago-" he broke off as he caught up with his surroundings and the two pairs of eyes that were following his every move curiously.
Ahsoka took advantage of his speechlessness and gave him the project list. "They're on your desk, where they've been for two days. Horo Windchaser is coming by this afternoon to pick up their vaporator and Biggs is coming by the day after next. Anything else?"
She stared at him, daring him to mention the children. Varn was mostly bluster, she knew, but he enjoyed exercising the modicum of power he had. He was incompetent, almost entirely so, and Ahsoka never made any comments about the long stretches of time where he disappeared to the cantinas in case he took it into his head to stop. It was a push and pull but right now she was banking on the fact he liked completed projects more than he liked inconveniencing her.
He looked uncomfortable as he angled himself away from the children. "No. No, that's fine. Just…" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "I don't want to see a drop in productivity."
Ahsoka narrowed her eyes and then pointedly looked at the flimsi still in his hands. He caved easily and, after a moment, all but fled the room. She heard his heavy tread all the way up to his apartment above. She was willing to bet he'd be at the bar within the hour and likely stay for the rest of the day.
Sure enough, the bell over the door went just as she was finishing up siphoning the engine. She worked through until she felt the children's mood begin to tip into irritation and then stood upright. She leaned back against the sudden head rush until she heard her back crack and wiped her oil-stained hands on her overalls.
"Right." She said brightly, "What do we have?"
She had packed lunch for all of them that morning but the majority of her break was spent trying to corral them into eating their food and not simply smearing it on their faces. By the end of her break she barely had enough time to tear off a chunk of her own rations and choke it down as she searched for a semi-clean rag to try and wipe off the mashed fruit that Luke had managed to get in his sister's hair.
She was feeling pretty successful, all things considered, as she felt their minds slow after they'd eaten. They usually took a nap in the early afternoon, during which she'd try and get as much of the intricate work out of the way as possible and then-
The door cracked open an inch.
Ennen's face peered around and when she saw it was only Ahsoka she opened it fully. Varn must have already been settled at the cantina then; Ennen never went walkabout when she thought there was any chance of her master noticing.
"Master Varn said you had brought your children in today." She said. She had a bag clutched in one hand but Ahsoka couldn't see what was in it.
"Before he fled?" Ahsoka asked asked with a smile but Ennen did not return it. Her lips thinned and she nodded. Ahsoka fought the urge to sigh. "Yeah, I couldn't get in contact with the Larses because of the storm. They usually take care of them during the day." She added.
"I know of them." Ennen said absently, as she began to drift over to them, "May I?"
Ahsoka motioned her over, and Ennen went without a backward glance. The children had caught on that someone was there to see them and were duly excited. Leia was waving and Luke was smacking a hand to his mouth and then at Ennen, his best attempt at blowing a kiss that Beru had taught him.
Ennen laughed to herself.
Progress of a sort, Ahsoka thought. Ennen had never quite warmed to her, despite her best efforts. She would nod if Ahsoka nodded first and she would allow conversation about work, the weather and the price of water but she would shut down if Ahsoka smiled too much or tried to extend the conversation with anything past that.
It was fine. Ahsoka had the children and Owen and Beru. She didn't need friends as well, not really.
Still, it was harder to remember that when she could see Ennen being enchanted by the children despite herself. She'd seen a few children around Tatooine by now, but she'd been told rightly when she was told that they weren't common.
"Master Varn sent me with these." She said, handing the bag over without looking away. Ahsoka took it and looked inside. Two faded red cushions. They must have been from his office. She took them out slowly and put them in front of the children. She thought back to the way he had looked at them—was it truly only in discomfort? She quickly shook herself from her thoughts and flexed her hand to get rid of the returning cramp.
"They look healthy." Ennen said quietly, almost like a peace offering.
Ahsoka puffed with pride despite herself. "I try to do right by them." She said. It was true, they did look healthy, with a good layer of puppy fat to them, bright-eyed and both of them sporting a few new teeth apiece. "It's why…it's why I was glad to find work here. I need it for them and…well, there are worse places."
Ennen looked away from the children then, if only for a moment. It was the closest she had ever come to letting Ahsoka acknowledge the part she had played in securing her the job.
"There are worse places." She agreed as she turned back. And then, "What are their names?"
Ahsoka laid aside her hydrospanner and placed her hand on Leia's head. "This is Leia, and this here is Luke."
Ennen actually smiled as she looked at them. "Luke and Leia Sokath." She said quietly, almost to herself.
Ahsoka gave a small laugh, "Oh, it's actually Luke and Leia Skywalker."
Ennen drew her hand back sharply and looked at her with all of the goodwill of a moment ago suddenly fled. Her gaze was piercing. "How did you come by that name?"
Ahsoka found herself suddenly feeling wrong-footed and more than a little confused. "They're my niece and nephew." She said, uneasily, "They're related to the Larses."
Ennen looked at her for a long moment and Ahsoka couldn't quite dispel the disquiet she felt between them. She flexed her hand again and saw Ennen register the movement.
"I should go." Said Ennen eventually, and Ahsoka didn't stop her. She turned to the children and pressed a hand to the side of their round cheeks in a gesture that seemed oddly deferential. When she turned to Ahsoka she bowed her head quickly. "Goodbye Ashla, may the desert winds bring you good fortune."
Ahsoka didn't know how to respond to her stilted words, the cadence too formal for two colleagues, and so settled for nodding back. "You too?" She managed. She saw something flicker in Ennen's expression—disappointment?— before she was gone once more.
Ahsoka looked at the children, who looked equally confused as her. But there was little time to sit around and ponder when she had an appointment in two hours, requisition paperwork and a house to get back to.
The afternoon passed apace and soon Ahsoka found herself gathering the children up to take them home. Strictly speaking, it was earlier than she would have left normally but Varn was away and likely would be all night, Ennen was silent in her office and she was unwilling to bet on the children's continued good behaviour. For a moment she debated heading straight to the Larses but she was hesitant to arrive uninvited, even now. She'd check if they had their communications up and running when they got back, she decided.
Evening slipped away with the darkening sky; the Larses had their comms back up and running, the twins were tired from their day of new sights and faces and Ahsoka herself felt spent. She laid awake that night, her mind turning. Perhaps it was time to branch out from their small circle of acquaintances. It was easy to believe that all she had to do was keep the twins from any physical danger, but what kind of a life would that be for them? Her own earliest memories were crowded with other people, initiates, padawans, even the knights and masters, though Master Plo loomed tall above them. She knew here were dangers past the physical. It wouldn't do to isolate them from the rest of the world. Besides, she was beginning to think the twins represented a unique social opportunity; it seemed all she had to do was brandish them at unsuspecting co-workers, wait until they weakened, and start making conversation.
She rolled over and closed her eyes. Her dreams were full of uneasy impressions, faded cushions and disappointed lilac eyes.
Over the next few weeks Ahsoka made a new concerted effort to integrate into her new surroundings, not only the physical landscape of Mos Eisley but also in the milieu that surrounded her. She had been right in her initial impressions of the Force, there was mistrust breeding in many a doorway and shadowed room, but there was also so much more when she made the effort to look beneath.
It helped that she brought the children with her to the shop once or twice a week. Even her more taciturn clients lingered when they saw Luke happily clapping away or Leia's face furrowed in concentration as she struggled with her new set of blocks, gifted by the Larses. Ennen was a frequent face though her visits were often fleeting; Varn was always around when she brought the children though he seemed unwilling to share a room with the three of them for long. He often walked into a room only to repeat the instructions he'd already given her or harass her about projects she'd already signed off on. He always left quickly and without a kind word, but he never asked for his cushions back.
All in all, she thought she'd made a rather decent job of it. People had learned to be as wary of her as she could have wished, what with the whispered stories passed around about Cen, but only now that she could be seen more often with the children were they beginning to warm to her. It probably didn't hurt that she'd taken to softening some of Varn's more obvious price gouging either, strictly off the record.
It was that very taking down of his racket that found her desperately trying to delicately manoeuvre around Tatooine social etiquette and refuse a second offer of tea.
"Honestly," She said for what must have been the fifth time since she walked through the door. "I drink less than baseline humans anyway, but thank you."
It was a blatant lie, but Ahsoka couldn't bring herself to accept it. The woman who had offered it to her, Kuna, placed it hesitantly on the table between them.
Kuna Shule rented a small patch on the market where she sold old programming units and basic code patches. Ahsoka had little need of either and would hardly have stopped if it wasn't for another thing that Kuna was also in possession of: a small four year old child. Ahsoka had barely seen any children apart from her own around town and had approached her cautiously. Kuna had been suspicious until she heard her name.
"Ashla Sokath? The woman with the two children?"
Ahsoka had smiled weakly, "That's me."
Kuna had a smile for her in passing ever since, and it was to Ahsoka she came when her processing unit began churning out illegible code.
"I won't be able to pay you much." Kuna said nervously, "But if you could even just take a look-"
Ahsoka looked at Kuna's wringing hands and then at the boy, Kham, clinging to his mother's leg.
"Of course." She had said, which was how she had ended up trying not to offend Kuna by not accepting payment when she clearly had little to spare.
Their dwelling was rough-cut stone into bedrock and close to the city slave quarter. It was practically barren of possessions but fastidiously clean.
She had come straight from work rather than have Kuna bring it to the shop to save from running into Varn. She had once again used Luke and Leia to great effect, and Kuna was kept from watching her nervously by two energetic toddlers who were hellbent on falling face-first onto the ground in their ongoing quest for forward motion.
It was an easy fix, crossed wires and rusted casing, but Ahsoka worked slowly. It would do the children good to have some company other than her, and she was pretty sure that she had heard Kham giggle once or twice.
Still, by the time she had fitted the casing back together and wiped down her hands and arms, it was time to go. It had been delicate work and she was tired. Her hands cramping again.
"How much do I owe you?" Asked Kuna eventually. Her shoulders were square and tense, and even her son was no longer smiling. There was a hard sort of pride in her bearing, one that Ahsoka was loathe to offend.
In the middle of the barren room, stripped bare of any comforts Ahsoka saw the half-filled mug, still on the table. She thought of how close the slave quarters were and how small a patch in the market Kuna had.
Slowly, she reached out and picked up the mug. She raised it to her lips and took a sip before replacing it.
"Thank you." She said as Kuna looked at her wide-eyed. "Perhaps the children could come and visit again some time?"
"Yes." She said eventually, "I think Kham would like that."
Kuna was quiet as Ahsoka gathered the children but thanked her lowly once more before she stepped out the door.
The temperature dropped surprisingly sharply at night, and somehow it always managed to surprised her even after a year. There was a chill in the air and Ahsoka lengthened her stride to reach the speeder. Leia was asleep in her arms, but Luke stirred and only quietened when she murmured to him.
"Sh, go to sleep Skyboy."
It was awkward carrying them both but she was soon around the back of the shop to where she had left her speeder, tucked away and undercover. She hadn't bothered asking Varn if he minded, she doubted he would be home the night and she had had more important things to consider. She was soon bent over the speeder door, securing the children into their seats.
They'd be home soon, and her mind was already cataloguing the list of tasks she still had before she too could crawl into bed. It had been a long day, but a productive one. Hopefully the children-
Something moved at the edge of her vision.
She reacted before she had even consciously made the decision. She sank into a crouch, every muscle tense as a shadow of a figure, wrapped in a cloak and carrying a bag of some sort, closed the door of the shop silently and crept towards the back alley that would lead them away from the street. Ahsoka watched, unblinking, as the figure stopped and cast a glance across the road in both directions. Ahsoka, through long instinct, stayed perfectly still.
The figure looked away.
Ahsoka looked at the children and made a decision. She would not go far.
She slipped forward on silent feet. It reminded her of being on her first hunt. She was close. She waited in the shadows for the figure to move.
They were heavily bundled, but from here she could tell they were taller than she was. They clutched something in each hand, the bag in one and a small metallic device in the other. She wondered if they had been in the shop, if tomorrow she would have to go through all of her tools and materials to see what had been stolen. She moved closer still, so close that she could almost touch that clothed shoulder if she stretched. She waited, body thrumming and breath silent, for the figure to make a move.
The figure turned to check the empty road once more and under the weak moonlight Ahsoka caught a glimpse of a high cheekbone and straight nose.
She dropped out of her crouch.
"Ennen?"
Her voice had been soft but Ennen whirled on her as though it had been a shout. Ahsoka was unprepared for the panic in Ennen's expression but battle-born instinct meant that she caught the hand that went to strike her. The device she had noted in Ennen's hand clattered to the ground. She looked at the wrist she had caught in her hand in bafflement and then at Ennen herself. She could hardly think of what to say when Ennen wrenched herself free and fled. Ahsoka barely had time to see the expression of dread on her face before she was gone.
She was left standing there, utterly confused. She couldn't think of what she could have done to put that expression on Ennen's face, nor the lance of terror that she had felt through the Force when she called her name.
She bent to the ground to pick up whatever Ennen had dropped. It was hard to see in the low light, some sort of fob, no bigger than her palm, a button the only feature in the middle.
She felt sick.
She knew what it was. Owen had mentioned the chips that all slaves from Tatooine carried in their bodies, and the consequences should they stray from or disobey their master. Sometimes just a failure to please could be just as fatal.
The detonator felt absurdly heavy in her hand and Ahsoka could hardly bear to touch it. She slipped it into her pocket and returned silently to the speeder where the children slept on. She wished she could follow Ennen, give back the detonator and perhaps even help with whatever had her fleeing in the night. She wondered if perhaps Ennen was running away for good. Where did escaped slaves go? Did any of them ever manage to escape the bonds that held them here? She hoped so. She wished she could help.
But the children needed to get home and while she could justify risking herself she could not risk them. They drove silently through the dunes that night and headed home.
She went through the rest of her evening mechanically. She fed the children, bathed them and put them to bed. She went through her own checklist for the evening, barring the windows, attuning the vaporators and sweeping the floor before she went to her own bed.
The detonator weighed on her like beskar. She wished she had never seen it, and she certainly wished that it wasn't under her roof. Even as she crawled into bed she was sure she could feel it across the room, something coercive and venomous in the home she had tried so hard to build.
She slept badly.
In the early hours of the morning she stumbled from her bed, unable to feign sleep anymore, even to herself.
She gave up pretending and pulled the detonator from last night's clothes. It looked so unassuming but Ahsoka honestly couldn't tell if it radiated malevolence in the Force or if she was projecting her own feelings on to it.
It was small in her hand.
She closed her eyes and accepted the source of her true horror.
Would Anakin have had one of these? He must have done. He would have had a chip in his body somewhere, and spent his childhood knowing that somewhere there was a device that would end his life with the simple press of a button. Had it been in his leg? His arm? His neck? It made her feel sick to think about it.
She tried to picture him as she knew him. She had to wade through her tangle of emotions, the guilt and terror and disgust until she could reach the man that she had loved as a brother, to whom she had looked for guidance and reassurance and everything else in her life. She couldn't imagine that man beholden to a switch, a mere whim of a master.
He was born a slave, she had known that ever since Master Obi-Wan had given her the pieces to work out for herself. She had accepted it with due horror, but only now did she feel true revulsion at the fact. He had been born a slave and now he would live as one for the rest of his life.
She put the detonator down carefully. She would start her day early. It was better than allowing her thoughts to continue to run away with her.
She took the children to Owen and Beru that morning and if she looked out of sorts Beru was kind enough not to mention it. Or more likely, she was preoccupied with the two toddlers who were both waving furiously at her.
Ahsoka managed little more than a weak smile and a thank you before she was driving once more.
The detonator was heavy in her pocket.
By the time she pulled into the back of the shop she felt as though it could have weighed a ton.
She walked into her workshop and paused for a moment. She listened. There was the usual noise from the street, of a city beginning to rise for the day and venture out the door. She couldn't hear anything from above her head. She reached out with her mind just to be sure; there was a globular sort of feeling from Varn's apartment, sickly yellow and green. She doubted he would be roused.
She left her bag by the floor and walked through to the shop. She didn't leave the backroom that often and she ventured into Ennen's domain even less. She pushed the door open and then stopped at the threshold. The room was stacked with flimsi, mostly accounts and invoices, piled haphazardly on every surface. Ahsoka had the feeling a sudden gust of wind would end this place for good.
But it was not to the chaos she was paying attention.
At the centre of it all, at her desk and refusing to look up, was Ennen. She was pale and drawn, her eyes narrowed and her lips thin. Ahsoka wished she had been right. She wished Ennen was halfway out of the system by now instead of sitting there like she was waiting for her own execution.
Slowly, Ahsoka took the detonator from her pocket and placed it in the middle of the desk. Ennen looked up sharply. There were bags under her eyes. Ahsoka could well imagine that they had slept about as well as each other that night.
"You know what it is then?" Ennen asked eventually.
"I do." Said Ahsoka, looking at her carefully. Ennen was still squinting, her entire body was a line of tension.
"Then I thank you for returning it."
"What were you doing last night?" Ahsoka asked. It looked so unassuming sitting on the desk between them. Ennen must have stolen it for a reason, Ahsoka wasn't sure precisely how it worked but perhaps she had taken it with her as a precaution? For all she knew there was a fail-safe if Ennen breached a certain perimeter. She looked once more at the accounts that surrounded them both, every peggat this place managed to make must have passed through this office. It was certainly more trust than she had seen most other slaves be afforded. "You can tell me." She added, "I won't tell Varn."
Ennen looked at her severely. Ahsoka looked back. "I thank you for returning it." She repeated, somewhat stiffly.
"Where were you going?"
"I apologise for my actions last night." Ennen said, as though Ahsoka had not spoken, "You startled me. Should you wish to report them to Depur I will corroborate your account."
Ahsoka wanted to wave away whatever invisible barrier lay between them but Ennen was still taut with tension. "Ennen, what were you doing sneaking around?" She pressed, "Are you in some kind of trouble? I understand, I can help you."
Ennen's grip on her stylus tightened. "It is no concern of yours."
Ahsoka leaned back "No concern?" She asked incredulously, "You looked ready to jump out of your skin! I could help!"
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why? I thought we might be…"
She trailed off awkwardly but it seemed Ennen had reached her breaking point. "Thought we might be what?" She asked, her voice hard.
"I thought we might be friends." Ahsoka said, somewhat weakly. Ennen had never been particularly warm towards her but a year of small talk and her interest in the children had made her think that they might at least be on friendly terms.
"I'm a slave." Ennen said flatly.
Ahsoka felt wrong-footed but she ploughed on. "I know, I just thought…it doesn't matter. Tell me what's going on and I could help-"
Looking at Ennen's singularly unimpressed face she felt abruptly helpless. It was sometimes easy to forget that Ennen's life was not her own. Ahsoka had been so wrapped up in the twins and making sure that they were safe and hidden that sometimes she would look up and realise that they lived on a planet where corruption had made a home in the heart of society. That half the people she passed in the street might be deprived of the most basic rights belonging to all sentients and the other half were doing the depriving. She used to command armies. She used to have some small measure of a say in the shape of the galaxy, and now she couldn't even get one woman to trust her when she offered her assistance.
"You cannot help. I do not need your help."
It stung more than it should have. "Just tell me what's going on!" She burst out.
"Is that a demand, mistress?" Ennen snapped back.
Ahsoka reared back as if hit. Ennen was looking at her with such vitriol that Ahsoka could barely recognise her.
"You know it's not." She managed to say.
"I know nothing." Ennen said lowly, "All I know is that I could lose my hand for raising it against a freeborn. I know that you returned my detonator and made demands in the same breath. I know that you are raising Ekkreth's children and yet know nothing about their heritage. You don't get to come in here and demand answers just because you're used to getting them. You don't know anything about it, Sokath. You were born free and, mothers permitting, you'll die free. You may live on Tatooine with the rest of us but I hardly think that leaves you qualified on understanding hardship."
It was the most she had ever heard Ennen speak in one go. She felt frozen in place, unable to refuse the volley of accusations slung at her. She felt shame, though she did not know what for and a burning injustice that she couldn't put into words.
Horrendously, she thought she might cry. She hadn't cried since those early days when it seemed she could not stop. Is this what Anakin had thought of them. Is this how he had suffered? How could he have left this behind? She knew he had come to the Temple late, and for a moment she wondered if he had ever managed to truly leave this place in his heart.
She had no reply. Ennen was both right and wrong, and Ahsoka had no idea which one she was herself.
But there was no time in which to formulate a reply. There was an almighty racket from above as Varn came stumping down the stairs.
The anger in Ennen drained away and she looked in horror at the detonator on full display on the table. Ahsoka made a decision.
Varn thundered into view just as Ahsoka turned her back on Ennen and leant back on the desk. She kept her posture casual and, with one hand behind her back, grabbed the detonator.
"Morning, boss." She said casually as he glared at the two of them. He was dressed in the same clothes she had seen him in yesterday, with his outer jacket still thrown over the top, and even half way across the room she could tell he hadn't made it to the 'fresher since he got home.
"What the fuck is with all the noise?" He demanded. He was always nastier if he didn't get the chance to sleep off the previous night but she wasn't phased.
He looked between Ahsoka, seemingly at ease, and Ennen, still ashen.
Ahsoka grinned, "Just asking about when the Jawas'll be back around, we're running low on power cells that won't fry anything more recent than a C-14 unit. Say," she said suddenly, as though the idea had just occurred to her, "while I've got you here I wanted to ask whether or not the Ghudis have settled up their account yet. The old man came by the other day asking if I could take a look at his son's hover-bike but I said I'd have to talk to you before we take on anymore of their projects."
She almost saw the moment he stopped listening. She walked forward, still taking pains to look casual, and gently herded him back to the stairs to his apartment. She kept up a stream of inane chatter while she led him. She peppered him with a few questions and then carried on without waiting for his answers.
She could all but feel the hangover rolling off of him. His eyes were dull and he smelt no better up close than he did from across the room. She didn't even need to nudge him with the Force before he broke in.
"Uh, yes. Yes to…all of that. You seem to have a pretty good handle on things here. I think I'm just going to…" He gestured back up the stairs to his apartment. Ahsoka smiled.
"You want me to look after the shop for the day?" She asked sweetly.
He actually looked at her gratefully. Master Obi-Wan wouldn't have even been proud of her for this one; it was far too easy.
"If you would. And um, excuse me." When she only leaned backwards he squeezed past her to clamber up the stairs and back to his rooms. He never even noticed her slip the detonator into his pocket.
She waited until she heard his door close before releasing her breath. He might wonder why he had Ennen's detonator in his pocket, but she didn't know where he usually kept it. At any rate, she had a suspicion he wouldn't be remembering the events of the evening before. A gap in his memory could easily account for such a small irregularity.
A door clicked into place behind her. She turned to see Ennen's door firmly closed.
She sighed.
The day passed slowly after Ahsoka returned to her workshop. There was no noise from overhead, which meant Varn must have taken her at face value about looking after the shop but even that wasn't enough to occupy her thoughts. She made little headway in her workload but it was a secondary concern.
Ennen's door remained closed.
Ahsoka looked at it occasionally before turning away. Her mind was abuzz and she spent most of the hours fighting to keep herself under control. She didn't want to imagine Anakin in this place. She didn't want to imagine him at all but Ennen's anger had reminded her of him and now it felt like she could hear him if she listened hard enough.
It was hard to banish his voice when some small and terribly young part of her still yearned to hear him call for her again. It felt like a betrayal, and yet the thought that no one was ever going to call her Snips again still ached in her chest.
The day crawled by, but eventually Ahsoka packed her tools and wiped her hands on her overalls. Ennen's door was still closed when she walked past, no sound coming from within.
She was still feeling out of sorts when she first saw the Lars homestead rise on the horizon. It was the unsettled feeling of knowing she was in the wrong but not knowing exactly what for.
It lasted right up until Beru opened the door and Leia shrieked with excitement when she saw her.
Ahsoka grinned, greeted Beru, and plopped down on the floor with the children. Luke was still full of energy and barely consented to a hug before he was already trying to wriggle away but Leia seemed determined to show her every last one of the toys that Owen and Beru had laid out for her. Ahsoka oohed and ahed at the appropriate intervals and took the carved building block that Leia gave her with all the solemnity it deserved.
"I swear," said Beru, watching them, "if I had half their energy we could retire next year."
"Were they good today?" Ahsoka asked.
"Terrors."
"Business as usual then." She said, and scrounged up a smile.
There was a long moment and when Ahsoka looked up it was to see Beru studying her. Somehow it was easy to forget, now that they knew each other better, just how piercing Beru's gaze could be, and just how heavy her attention was. For a moment, Ahsoka was convinced that Beru would glean whatever she wanted to know from that look alone, or that she would just come right out with whatever question she wanted answered.
Abruptly, the day weighed down on her. She felt terribly tired.
"How was work?" Beru said, and it would have been a causal question if not for the narrowing of her eyes.
Ahsoka swallowed and looked down at Leia, still seated in her lap. She had never been terribly good at prevaricating. Master Obi-Wan had called her terminally candid once, and she wasn't entirely convinced he had been paying her a compliment at the time. Anakin had just laughed and said there was nothing wrong with having her heart on her sleeve. In hindsight, she wondered if it wasn't an argument that had been going on a lot longer than she had been a padawan.
"It was fine." She said. Oh what was the point? She was tired and Beru was going to get it out of her at some point. She might as well save them both the time. "I got into an argument."
"Oh?"
Beru's voice was mild and leading, but Ahsoka didn't explain further. Instead she went with a finer point, but one that had been niggling at her all day. "Someone said a word I didn't understand." She said instead. She finally looked up. "She said I was raising Ekkreth's children. What does that mean?"
Beru had taken a sharp breath at the mention of a name but she hadn't moved. Ahsoka felt her attention like a physical weight. "Ekkreth?"
"I'd heard it used before but I never thought anything of it. What does it mean?"
To her surprise Beru picked up Luke and sank to the floor as well. "It's Amatakka, the language of the slaves. It means Skywalker, among other things. What were you talking about at the time?"
Ahsoka found herself reluctant to go into the full details of their altercation, partly out of certainty she had misstepped somehow, but also because she didn't want to know what Beru would make of Ennen's secrecy and midnight ramblings.
"She said I didn't know about the children's heritage, that I wasn't raising them right." And a lot of other things besides, Ahsoka thought to herself. But it bothered her nonetheless. She didn't like the feeling that she might be isolating them, raising them separate from their own culture. She had been lucky, the Temple always made a concerted effort to keep children connected to their birth cultures. She still missed her Akul teeth sometimes. "But I don't know how to fix it."
"Anyone with eyes can see you are raising the children well." Beru said firmly. She should be beyond needing validation but sometimes she was still so terribly unsure that it was a balm just to hear Beru's confidence. "You know, before I married Owen I was a Whitesun." Ahsoka to tried follow the train of conversation but she must have looked a little lost. Beru's mouth twitched into an almost smile. "It's an old slave name." She told her, "Stay here long enough and you'll be able to tell the difference. Of course, we were freed generations ago so I can't tell you their stories or their myths and legends."
"Why not?"
"I don't know them. I never learned Amatakka, I don't know their culture."
Ahsoka deflated. Of all the accusations Ennen had hurled at her this one lingered, perhaps because of the children. Even when she had first joined Anakin as a padawan she had been able to see he was somehow disconnected from the Temple. She knew he had joined the Order late and had assumed that to be the reason. She didn't want that for the children, she didn't want to see them isolated and cut off from a culture that should be theirs by right.
She felt defeated once more. Just one more thing in the growing list of things that were not for her to understand.
"But I know who does." Said Beru, cutting across Ahsoka's downtrodden thoughts. "Ashla, I think it might be time for you to pay a visit to the Grandmothers."