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swfanficbyjz · 6 years

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SW Rey Theory - Legacy of Light - Chapter 11

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(15 years after Revenge of the Sith, Rebels S2:E9)

“I know why you want the children,” Ahsoka spat through gritted teeth.

“Well,” the inquisitor replied, spinning her double bladed red lightsaber in a cocky manner. “Who doesn’t want to be a mother?”

She scowled at her to hide the chill that ran through her at the way she’d emphasized the word ‘mother.’ It was too personal. It was too pointed. It was her worst fear; the Empire did know about Ashla and had agents actively looking for her. She slashed forward angrily, hiding her pain through practiced motions. She’d been so careful, so calculated. She’d done everything she possibly could to protect her, but somehow they’d still found out.

Did that mean Vader knew too? She directed her fear into overwhelming the two inquisitors. They didn’t understand that purpose was stronger than power. There was too much at stake to give in to her emotions right now. Not just the children they’d rescued from them, but also her own daughter. Anakin’s daughter. That whether he knew or cared existed, she did.

“You are beaten,” she breathed deeply, bringing one of her white lightsabers to the female inquisitor’s throat. She’d already knocked the other one unconscious. She looked up as she heard the familiar sound of troops moving towards them. The inquisitor laughed in her face.

“It looks like you are the one that is beaten.” Ahsoka looked around her as a whole battalion converged on their location. Not good, really not good. “Hmm, your capture will please lord Vader.” She looked at her defiantly, hiding her surprise. She wanted to see Anakin again, but not like this, not right now. She dreaded seeing him as this Sith monster.

So, he knew she was alive then? That still didn’t answer her other question, did he know about Ashla? She heard the Phantom lift off and breathed a sigh of relief; she’d live to fight another day. It was time to tell Ashla about her father. Because next time, she might not be so lucky.

She force leapt to the top of the archway and then again into the back of the ship as it hovered overhead. Was she brave enough to warn her daughter about what he’d become? No, she wasn’t. She only wanted her daughter to know him as she had. She faked a smile as Ezra, Chopper and Zeb played with the recovered younglings. Her mind a million miles away already.

Oh Ashla. Please stay safe. Please keep your head down.

---

It took Ahsoka a few weeks to work up the courage to tell Ashla about her father. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of what he’d become. It had simply become an unspoken subject in her life. So few people of her past existed still; Rex was the only one left that she knew of and Rex hurt over it too. She didn’t want to spend what little time she had with him sobbing over things she could do nothing about. Every so often they’d reminisce, but otherwise they never spoke about Anakin. Since she didn’t feel comfortable talking about it with anyone else around her, it had become a very private battle inside herself.

She’d practiced what she was going to say a million times; weighing every statement from every angle she could. Did this make him sound too good? Did this make him sound too bad? Was this something Ashla might misconstrue? Everything she’d planned to say went out the window the moment she’d told her what they needed to talk about.

Ashla had shimmied right up to her. The anticipation that poured off her was palpable. Her daughter’s thirst for knowledge about her father scared her, and was a lot of why it had taken her so long to tell her the truth. She’d once thought Ashla would be in danger simply because her parents had both been Jedi, but it was clear, there was more reasons to keep her a secret. There was no hint that Vader suspected it, but did the Emperor know? Her mouth went dry as she thought back to all that had happened when she’d found out she was pregnant. Suddenly she was standing in that courtroom all over again, looking up at the Chancellor, begging for her life. He’d seemed so cold, he’d seemed… Why had she never suspected he was a Sith lord? His face had been expressionless, but his eyes had spoken something else entirely. He’d wanted her dead not for the crimes she’d been accused of but because she was a threat. If she’d been a threat then, she most certainly was one now. If Anakin was his apprentice, if he was evil… then clearly the Emperor believed she could do something that hurt everything he was building. And likely… it had nothing to do with the rebellion. If the Emperor knew, there was a good chance he did too.

Now it wasn’t Ashla she worried about going after him, it was her. She had to find him. She had to save him.

“Mom?” Ashla asked, touching her on the shoulder. She started, mind crashing back to reality. She looked at her daughter’s beautiful face. She was growing up so fast. It was hard to believe she was sixteen. But worse, that she’d been forced to stay away from her for so long. She was grateful that Ashla was as strong in the force as she was, otherwise they wouldn’t have these moments. Their bond was like nothing she’d thought possible. From the moment Ashla would have been old enough to start using the force, Ahsoka had reached out to her through meditations. It didn’t seem to matter where she was, or where her daughter was, the force connected them. In the beginning, she hadn’t been sure if what she was seeing was real; moments of clarity that felt as though she’d traveled across the galaxy to look down at her child asleep in her bed.

She remembered the first time she’d reached out and tried to touch her daughter, surprised at how real it had felt like she was really there. Which had never been true; she had never been there. A shame that burned at her daily. She’d watched in awe through the force as her daughter grew up. As she began to explore her own abilities. As she was able to reach out to her as well. She’d decided long ago, that even if it was some cruel trick, it mattered to her to continue it. She had no other explanation for how her daughter could tell her about things she couldn’t have known herself; like places her and Nyx traveled to, or the latest piece of machinery she’d put together.

Her and Anakin had once had a bond like this. She had felt him when he was far away; known the feelings he was experiencing. She hadn’t known, however, that she could reach through the force to him. The Jedi had only ever explained it as a sense of the other person. A vibration, a message; never something interactive. All the new things she’d learned bonding with her daughter across vast distances made her question how much the Jedi had known about the force. It made her wonder if things would have been different if she’d tried to reach him. Like that night she’d awoken from the nightmare on Mandalore. She was certain now it hadn’t been her nightmare at all, but rather his. If she’d reached out to him, would he still be here now?

It had been tiring to meditate this way. Unsurprising since she was mentally traveling lightyears from wherever she was at any given time. As Ashla grew stronger in the force, their connection became easier to reach and hold onto. She thought of it as meeting halfway, instead of one of them going to where the other was. Although that had happened too. According to her daughter, Nyx had been quite distressed and rather angry that Ashla could supposedly talk to her mother through the force. He’d hated Jedi mainly because they’d caused unnecessary complications to his business ventures. He was a smuggler, and though he’d tried to hide it from her, she’d known. Even though it was completely un-Jedi-like, she’d turned a blind eye to the things that he did and much to her chagrin, she’d helped him with plenty of pickups. Now with the Empire viciously hunting anyone that demonstrated any competency with the force, he told her daughter to hide it.

Ahsoka didn’t want Ashla to hide it. She wanted her to grow, learn and connect to it. She warned her to be careful how and where she used it, but never to be ashamed of it. Nyx had never said the words, but highly resented being left behind with a child that endangered everything he did, especially his life. Even more so if he was willing to believe that Ashla was really talking to her mother. She’d felt guilty that day that Ashla had mentioned it. She’d known Nyx wouldn’t be happy about the situation when she’d made the difficult choice not to return. She’d trusted her gut that he’d cared enough for Ashla that he would continue to raise her anyways. He did, she knew he did. Nyx had always been mostly talk with little action to back it up. Though it concerned her to find out he’d developed a pretty bad drinking problem and sincerely hoped it wasn’t because of her. She’d wanted to apologize to him on more than one occasion, but she didn’t dare try to reach out to him in case anything she did was being watched.

“I’m sorry, love,” she sighed finally. “As you can probably imagine, this is a difficult subject for me. Which is why I never told you sooner.” Ashla reached out and squeezed her hand and she tried to smile at her. She looked so much like Anakin sometimes, and she had his tenderness too. She tucked a curl behind her daughter’s ear.

“Is he still alive?” Ashla asked hopefully. Ahsoka felt a twinge of pain. Of course she’d start with the most difficult question to answer honestly.

“In a way,” Ahsoka whispered. “He lives in here.” She pointed to her heart. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Her love for him kept him alive all these years she thought he was dead. Just because he was something else now, doesn’t mean the person she loved is any less alive to her still. “The Jedi used to teach that when someone dies, they become one with the force. I like to believe that means they become a part of everything that we are and everything we do. So they’re not really dead after all, they live in us.” She tried to hide the grimace of pain her words caused her.

This was what she’d told herself for fifteen years; that Anakin lived in her, that he was a part of everything she’d done and everything her daughter would do. Now the words felt empty to her. Maybe his memory was a part of everything in her life, but he most certainly wasn’t. He was alive and he’d cut her off. Somewhere, for some unknown reason, he’d simply… detached… from everything that he’d once cared about. Which was why it had always felt like he was missing, rather than really gone. She’d believed that that is what it felt like when someone you loved died. She was wrong; she’d loved countless people that were now gone, and none of them had felt like this.

“How did you meet?” Ashla asked, leaning against her.

“I was a couple years younger than you,” her tone drifted nostalgic as better memories flooded her brain. The fear she’d felt all the way to Christophsis, the confusion on his face, the way she’d talked to him like she knew what was going on when really, she didn’t have a clue. His harsh, seemingly impenetrable exterior, that opened long enough to let her in. Every moment of sass followed by incredible tenderness and understanding.

“He must have been something,” Ashla teased. Ahsoka looked down at her in confusion. “You’re grinning like someone that just fell in love.”

“Oh, he was something alright,” she laughed. “He was a pain in the neck. Unpredictable, arrogant, powerful… but I adored him. I was just a youngling, probably just as much a pain in the neck to him too. Even though we got off to a rocky start, he agreed to train me. We became good friends, really good friends.”

“He must have had some redeemable qualities, or you have horrible taste in men,” Ashla commented, a hint of Anakin’s humor in her tone.

“It’s possible I do anyways, but yes he did. He was rough around the edges, but he cared deeply for those around him. The others admired his prowess on the battlefield, I did too of course, he was amazing to watch. I only hoped someday, I’d be as good as him. I’m still not sure I ever was. He had a softer side though; he treated everyone he met with respect. He was wise beyond his years when you really needed advice. He was a good listener; always encouraging me to get up and try again. He was the type of person that when they believed in you, you’d stop at nothing to live up to their expectations. He loved machines like they were people; the happiest or calmest he was, was when he was fixing things. I guess I learned to do the same thing; working with my hands, working through the puzzle that pieces and parts made. From what I hear, you get that from him. He was self-taught, it was a way he meditated I think. He could feel how things should go together; often upgrading ships and droids that the regular mechanics couldn’t do.” Ahsoka stroked her daughter’s hair and watched the way she smiled as she imagined what her father was like.

“Was he good looking?” Ashla asked curiously.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Very. You have his eyes and his hair. Not that you could have my hair, I don’t have any. He was tall too, like you. I swear I was always looking up to him. Even though he towered over people, he had a way of making you feel like you weren’t being overlooked. He’d look you in the eye when you talked, he’d make you feel heard.” She felt a twinge of pain at how few people heard him. “Even though he could be arrogant sometimes, it was more because he had the skill to back it up. It wasn’t that he went around bragging about how much better he was than you.”

“He sounds dreamy,” her daughter murmured wistfully.

“He was, but not in the way you’d imagine. It was too easy to forget sometimes that he was my master; my teacher. He was five years older than me, but sometimes it seemed like he was still just a teenager too. He wasn’t like the other Jedi; in both good ways and bad ways. Jedi didn’t allow attachments, believing that they could cause jealousy, possessiveness and obsession. All things that create anger, resentment and hatred. In other words, suffering; and there was no quicker path to the dark side than to believe you were suffering. Especially at the hands of someone else.”

“But you were clearly attached and you’re not dark at all,” Ashla said, sitting up and looking at her. Ahsoka tried to smile reassuringly at her.

“I never gave into the dark side, no, but I have most certainly suffered for my attachment to him,” she replied. “That was what the Jedi believed, and I elected to ignore it. So did your father. I learned how to cope with the suffering it created, but he didn’t as well. He struggled with it a lot. He felt things more deeply than others, and I think that made it harder for him. You have to understand that we were fighting a war at the time. Obviously, there’s still one going on now, but this was different. This wasn’t rebel skirmishes trying to take out an oppressive government. This was full scale war waged on both sides. Every loss was extremely painful to him. He was a general, so he felt personally responsible for their deaths. It weighed on him heavily. He never slept well; it made him moody and unpredictable. In many ways, his inability to control his emotions made him dangerous. Jedi are supposed to control their emotions, to act with clarity. He never managed that. He was good, really good; a brilliant and compassionate leader, but he wasn’t perfect.”

“Did he turn evil?” Ashla asked, and Ahsoka immediately berated herself for bringing it up. This was exactly why she’d practiced what she was going to say, though that’s not at all what she’d ended up saying. She wondered how to answer it without telling her the truth. She thought of Luke. Shock her with something else entirely?

“He died at the end of the war, still fighting for the Republic and for the people. Hero until the end.” Ahsoka whispered, hoping that Ashla didn’t notice the change in her. It was true in a way, yet another one of those half-truths that lived in everything she said nowadays. Anakin Skywalker was a hero until the end… the end being when suddenly he wasn’t anymore. Suddenly he was something else. “Do you remember a few weeks ago when you told me about that boy you met on Tatooine?”

“Luke? Yeah, of course I do. I still think about him often. But what does he have to do with my father?”

“You and Luke have the same father,” she said finally, surprised she’d even made noise. It was so weird to say it out loud after hoarding the secret for so long.

“He’s my brother?” Ashla asked in excitement. “No wonder I sensed a connection with him! We kind of looked alike too!”

“Ashla,” she said sharply, trying to get her daughter’s attention back on her rather than Luke. Her daughter looked up at her surprise and she immediately felt guilty. She’d never wanted to raise her voice with her. Their time together was too precious. “You need to stay away from Luke.” Ashla was instantly disappointed.

“Why?”

“Because it’s better that way,” Ahsoka said, hoping that Ashla recognized the tone and knew better than to argue. She felt horrible squashing her excitement. Her daughter probably wanted exactly what she did, to belong somewhere, but Luke couldn’t know the truth. It would be like spitting on the memory of both Anakin and Padmé, and she wouldn’t do it. As far as Ahsoka was concerned, Luke was his real family. Her and Ashla didn’t really enter into it. Likely someday, he’d find out what happened to his parents, but that had to be his own discovery.

“But…” Ashla started, trailing off when Ahsoka gave her a stern look.

“Remember what I just told you about attachments? Your father struggled with them too and he suffered for it. I don’t want you to go through the same thing.”

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