The Unchronicled Adventures Of Ahsoka Tano, Book Ten

Chapter Fifty-Five: Grieving

AHSOKA TANO

Ahsoka felt like she was in a dream; like everything she was experiencing was happening in some sort of alternate reality to an Ahsoka Tano that wasn't her. She was but a spectator in the life of a stranger.

The alternate-Ahsoka had caused an uproar as she had finally limped onto the bridge of the Liberator, coated in dust that was in places streaked with tears. Ezra had recoiled even before he had seen her, and she knew exactly why: she was projecting an aura that was painfully calm, and as grey and unfeeling as the fine layer of ash that covered her.

Just like the planet where the body of Kaya Ti Areeko now lay dead – if there was even a body left of her.

Ahsoka had succeeded in separating herself from her grief almost completely. Making herself think everything was happening to someone else was the only way she was able to stop herself from losing it.

She had rehearsed what she was going to say beforehand, and recited her mission report like a lecture while her thoughts wandered off... somewhere. As soon as she tried to touch the barrier of mental white noise keeping her emotions at bay, it pushed her gently back to the present. But the present was too full of reminders to manage, so she stayed somewhere in the middle.

At some point, the tiny cuts carved into her skin by flying shrapnel from the exploding Gozanti-class cruiser had started to bleed again, and she had been excused to go tend to them.

She had skipped the medical bay and gone straight back to her room. As soon as the door closed, she began working away at the layer of white noise and towards all the things that were already so close to driving her insane.

First came the presence. It had felt like a flower blooming; a dark, twisted flower unfurling itself for all those keen enough to pick up on it to see. And, worst of all, she recognized it. Somewhere near its maimed, tainted heart, she had sensed...

"No. That's not true. I'm delirious," she whispered to the empty air. "I'm not thinking straight – I can't be, because that's impossible."

But it was...

"No."

Anakin.

The entire fighter had felt like him, in a way – the only difference was that it was so polluted by the Dark Side of the Force it still made her sick to think about it.

Ahsoka got in the sanispray and spent a long time under the water. Even if the ash stung her cuts, she didn't care anymore. Perhaps the sharp bursts of pain would help her remember she was still alive.

Next came Kaya.

She summoned an image of her apprentice laughing as pulled her long dark hair into its usual braid. She pictured her as she had been before Valunn: staring boldly into the face of danger, her hands on her hips and mouth pulled into a confident smirk. Then, she would blow a strand of hair out of her face and ask what the plan was, regardless of the odds that were stacked against them.

I should have promised her to be careful. I should have asked her exactly what happened in that dream. I should have let her use her lightsabers. If not for what I did, she would still be alive.

Ahsoka was breaking at the seams. She couldn't hold herself together anymore. She tore off her armor, threw it at the wall as hard as she could, and screamed. She screamed until her voice was hoarse.

And him... I left him... I left him behind and this happened...

Only then did the tears finally come. They were hot and messy and somehow sharp, as if each one was a tiny needle, pricking Ahsoka's cheek as they rolled down. She could taste them on her lips.