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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Auntie ‘Soka and Little Leia (and Rex)

The counterpart to Uncle Ben and Little Luke (Original Post, Chrono)

Listen. You all knew this was coming.

This got... very long and detailed and I’m going to have to clean it up and post to AO3. As in, this was supposed to be 2-3k and is literally ten times that long. It crossed 25k. And the initial section actually glosses over a bunch, actual fic-style writing starts at “That, of course, is when things get interesting.”

Warnings: discussion of various canon traumas (most relating to being child soldiers), general PTSD, several scenes featuring dissociation or panic attacks upon being triggered, and canon-typical violence.

Rated T, gen.

I still want there to be de-aging nonsense involved so Ahsoka is physically a late teenager despite having a solid two decades of field experience behind her (we’re pulling her from Malachor).

Leia, much like Luke, is now six. She just came from being a rebellion general. She is not happy about being a child. She was already short, this is just mean. She’s a human espresso.

UNLIKE BEN, Ahsoka is not happy about this turn of events. Being seventeen-ish is not helpful in the outer rim. She’s a female togruta, young and healthy, and in the Outer Rim, caring for a small human child. Sure, she has her lightsabers and plenty of combat experience, and she can keep them safe, but she’s just one person, and a major target for those looking to make some quick cash. It doesn’t matter how good she is; she needs sleep at some point.

It makes my heart happy to treat Ahsoka and Rex as two halves of the same black ops specialist so you know what, he’s there too! He’s physically like... 10-12 in natborn, maybe. They’re not sure, because clones age weird. He’s moderately more useful than Leia (who is very competent but also physically six, and short for that age), but he’s still... very small.

Reminder that none of them have been born yet.

Ahsoka has a harder time explaining WHY she has children with her, since she's barely more than a kid herself, and clearly unrelated by species. She sometimes just says “Oh, my adoptive brother’s kids” since it’s kind of the truth for Leia and she’s not touching the actual truth about Rex with a ten foot pole.

Ahsoka definitely knows about Leia being a Skywalker, or at least has suspicions that Bail never outright confirmed but was conspicuously quiet about. She does tell Leia about it, but it’s not like that means anything, right? Just, you know, your dad was my teacher! I don’t have to tell you he became Va--oh shit, you already knew that part. Well, fuck. What do you mean he had a son? OH SHIT, PADME HAD TWINS.

Alt take for explaining why she’s got kids: She’s my foundling, I know her name as my child (Leia shut up!!!)

(Ahsoka can fake Mandalore. Sometimes.)

That said, there is... significantly less gambling and significantly more theft to get to Coruscant.

As previously stated, Ahsoka is a black ops kinda gal, and more importantly, she looks like a fairly attractive young woman in the Outer Rim, with two children in good health. She’s a target, and also not the kind of person one generally gambles with. If she does gamble, people get upset when she doesn’t lose, in ways they don’t get upset about Ben doing the same, because she’s, again, a cute teenage girl. It’s exhausting.

As things go, she largely ends up stealing from people who deserve it and/or smuggling herself and her charges into someone else’s ship. They’re small, they can hide. Sometimes she can get them all passage by working as a mechanic, she’s good at that.

Once they’ve got a handle on when they are, they have to decide on Names. None of them have been born yet, so technically they could use their own names without anyone Knowing. Rex and Leia might not even be born, depending on how successful they are at, you know, stopping the war and everything. Ahsoka, though, she’s going be born in two years, and there’s no reason to prevent it, so... she doesn’t want to steal baby-her’s name. That would be mean.

Leia is already calling her “Auntie ‘Soka” when she can for reasons like “selling the bit” and “manipulating adults” and “making us both feel better after we had a mutual breakdown about Anakin being Vader.” Ergo, she decides that whatever new name she picks better include that in some way, and decides on “Sokari” because it sounds pretty.

Overall, they don’t... they don’t actually make it very far before there’s an Incident. Again, teenager with small children. They spend a lot of time hiding out in space ports looking for an opportunity.

That, of course, is when things get interesting.

Specifically, Ahsoka spots a Mandalorian.

She doesn’t recognize the armor. She does recognize the sigil, and thinks ‘well, they’re more likely to help than some,’ because from what she’s heard, the Haat Mando’ade are Decent People Overall. Her view is a little biased, mostly on account of the sheer level of grudge she has against Kyr’tsad. It’s fine! The True Mandalorians have the same grudge, right? And Mandalorians like kids and Ahsoka hasn’t slept in five days and it’s fine. It’s fine! IT’S FINE.

“Oh shit,” Rex whispers, before she can suggest anything. “Oh fuck.”

“Stop cursing,” Leia hisses, elbowing him. “People are going to notice.”

“That’s the Prime,” Rex panics, mostly quiet. Ahsoka’s heart drops, because fuck is right. “That’s Fett.”

Leia isn’t impressed. Ahsoka just angles herself between Fett and Rex and hopes that he doesn’t see them. That’s just asking for trouble.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is in fact running on none sleep with left trauma, and doesn’t notice Fett walking up and dropping into a seat across from them until he’s actually done so, removing his helmet to glare a little more efficiently.

“Wanna explain why your kid has my face?”

Ahsoka later tells herself that he’s killed Jedi and that’s why he can sneak up on her, and that she can be forgiven some slip-ups with the exhaustion being what it is, and that she’s obviously going to be dealing with some emotional instability in light of the sudden return of teenage hormones and new forms of anxiety that are markedly different from those she was dealing with a few weeks ago.

What Ahsoka wants to say is “that’s kind of a long story,” or “maybe he’s a cousin,” or “kriff off, I don’t know you,” or maybe even “he’s a clone.”

What Ahsoka actually does is burst into tears, which is embarrassing for her, for Fett, for the kids, and for the entire rest of the bar.

It really is the straw that broke the eopie’s back. Even when she was actually this age, she didn’t exactly cry much. Objectively, Fett quasi-aggressively asking a valid question shouldn’t send her into a panic. She’s been through torture and worse. She shouldn’t be crying.

But she is, sobbing her eyes out with no control, and he’s just sitting across from her and looking uncomfortable while Rex wraps his little arms--oh Force he’s so small--around her, and both ‘children’ glare at Fett.

“So, I’m going to take it she didn’t kidnap you from a loving family or do something illicit with a blood sample,” Fett says, after it becomes obvious that Ahsoka’s not going to be ready to talk any time soon.

“She didn’t,” Rex says stiffly, with just the right emphasis for Fett to catch what’s implied. Ahsoka just keeps her head down, eyes pressed against the heels of her palms, trying to get her body to stop rebelling against her.

Fett’s eyes dart to Leia, who folds her arms and draws herself up, every bit the unimpressed princess. “My father claimed her as a sister, so she’s my Auntie ‘Soka.”

The man dithers a bit, the conversation clearly not going where he’d expected. “Right,” he says. “You--you’re all kids. I thought she was a little older, at least, but I didn’t have a good look at her face before.”

She is older, but actually admitting that is only going to make this worse, both for her pride and for her chances of making it out alive.

“Where are you staying?”

“What?” Leia bites out.

“You’re kids, you’re alone, and you’re clearly not okay if you were trying to hide the one with my face as blatantly as you did, and then... whatever this is, when I confronted you,” Fett explains. Ahsoka lifts her head to glare at him, but it’s probably not doing much with the way her eyes are rimmed with red and still wet. “Don’t give me that look, ad’ika, your kids looked as confused and horrified by that as the bartender did. They obviously didn’t think it was normal either.”

Well, kriff you too, Ahsoka thinks.

“And what do you mean by ‘blatantly,’ here?” Leia challenges. It’s adorable, but Ahsoka watched this tiny girl shoot a man last week, and wonders when people are going to start taking that seriously.

“There’s a lot of people in this galaxy, and I don’t exactly have the clearest memory of what I looked like at that age,” Fett says, slow and careful like he thinks they’re dumb. Ahsoka decides to chalk it up as being because Leia’s visibly six. “I would have thought it was just a coincidence if you hadn’t put in effort to hide him.”

Leia huffs, and Rex glares harder. Fett just sighs, like they’re all going to give him grey hairs.

“You can explain whatever the hell’s going on,” Fett says. “I’ll let you stay on my ship, there’s a spare bunk and you’re small.”

“For free?” Rex demands.

“A night on a bunk in exchange for information,” Fett clarifies. “We can negotiate from there.”

Ahsoka takes a few moments, notes that both of the others are waiting on her for the decision, and cringes. She doesn’t feel steady enough to carry that. She has to anyway.

“Rex?” she asks, voice rasping after the breakdown of the past few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“How much?”

He looks up at her, eyes calculating, and grimaces. “We don’t want Order 66. A warning is better, even if we... share information.”

She nods, and turns to Leia. “Any premonitions, princess?”

Leia glowers, cute and furious. “No.”

“No, don’t tell, or no, you aren’t getting any vibes about sharing info one way or the other?”

“The latter,” Leia clarifies, huffy to the last.

“Right,” Ahsoka says, and then just... hesitates. “Fett...”

“You’ve got conditions,” he guesses.

She bares her teeth in what could have, through a squint and perhaps a few drinks, been called an apologetic smile. “Just one, really.”

“Yeah?”

“No hurting, killing, or turning us in for bounties,” she says. “Any of us.”

“You’re children, I wouldn’t.”

She blinks at him, slow and careful. She hesitates. She reaches down, out of sight, sees him stiffen.

She unclips her sabers from her belt and puts them on the table.

His eyes are fixed on the weapons the second they enter his line of sight, and don’t move as he clearly realizes why she made the condition she did.

“I left years ago, because I couldn’t stay without it ruining me,” she says. Still slow. Still careful. She’s so tired. “But if I want to keep Leia safe, I have to get back to Coruscant.”

His eyes finally lift from the sabers, expression blank. “Just her?”

“Rex doesn’t have the same monsters coming after him,” she says. “If it were just me and him, I’d worry less. Leia’s a different kind of target.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith on the table by telling me that,” Fett says, voice flat and toneless. “Considering my occupation.”

“She’s a child,” Ahsoka says, feeling heavy and boneless. “Even with what I was and will be, even with what money you would get from the right buyer, you wouldn’t.”

“There are other risks.”

“There are.”

They stare at each other for too long, probably, and then Fett jerks as Rex kicks him under the table. The boys glare for a moment, and then Rex says, “If she weren’t good, I’d still be a slave to those who grew me.”

Fett blinks, and then nearly growls the word, “What?”

“She freed me,” Rex reiterates. “While I was trying to shoot her.”

Ahsoka lifts a hand and puts it on his far shoulder, pulling him into her side. She doesn’t meet Fett’s eyes again, because part of her is back on Mandalore, dodging her own soldiers and crying out as her family dies across the galaxy.

Fett breathes in. Breathes out. He puts a hand to his head, visibly frustrated. “Fine. A good Jedi kid, and two smaller kids, one of which is apparently in some way mine.”

Rex makes a face, which is fair, but also not helping.

“To the ship,” Ahsoka says, putting her sabers back on her belt and sliding out of the seat. “I’m... I’m Sokari.”

“You already know my name.”

“I do.”

---------------------------

Fett watches her like she’s a predator, which has the benefit of being accurate and slightly flattering. She lets other two take care of most of talking, and then Fett tells her to sleep first, and talk in the morning.

“You’re dead on your feet, jetii,” he snorts. “And that crying jag didn’t do you any favors. Sleep.”

So she does, and Fett doesn’t even wake her. He just lets her sleep. He watches her in the way of a guard. She sees him when she gets up to use the ‘fresher in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t even comment when she collapses right back into the mediocre cot she’s borrowed for the cycle.

Rex and Leia are safe, her hindbrain tells her, even in the depths of sleep. Her mind curls around theirs in the Force, and she trusts that they are here. They are not happy, but they are alive and unharmed, and that has to be enough.

When she stumbles her way to true wakefulness, groggy and loose-limbed, Fett greets her with caf.

“The kids wouldn’t let me near you,” he tells her.

“They’re good,” she says, cupping her hands around the mug. She feels wobbly, in every sense. Her body, her mind, her emotions, her connection to the Force. Nothing is on-kilter right now. “Did they tell you anything?”

“They waited for you,” he says. “But the little miss needed a nap of her own. They’re down in the other bunk.”

“I didn’t notice,” she admits. She should have. She’s Fulcrum. She’s a veteran of the Clone Wars. She’s... she’s supposed to be better than this.

“How long?” he asks, and then when she squints up at him, he clarifies. “How long did you fight?”

“My last fight--”

“No, whatever war you came out of,” he says. Her chest twists cold. “I don’t know if the Jedi sent you into it or if you waded in yourself once you left, but you move like a soldier.”

“I was,” she confirms. “But... but I don’t want to talk about the details. Not until the other two are here.”

He frowns at her. “Is there anything you can talk about?”

She shrugs and looks away, trying to take solace in the warmth of the caff she holds above the table, as if it can hide her, guard her, from the disgraced Mand’alor across the table.

“Jedi?”

“I’m not officially a Jedi,” she says, voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

“Then what do I call you?” he asks. “We’re not exactly close enough for names.”

“Torrent,” she says. “It’s not--I can’t claim my family name anymore. But I can claim Torrent, so I will. And if you want a title, I was a commander.”

“Bit young for that.”

“I got the rank when I was fourteen,” she says, and watches his face do something complicated and unpleasant. “Don’t. I know your own culture puts children on the field that young.”

“Not in command.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, well... the soldiers were technically younger. Adults, but...”

Ahsoka can see the way he casts about to figure out what species grows at that rate. He guesses a few, and she shoots all of it down.

She won’t tell him. Not until Rex is awake.

This part of the story is his.

--------------------------

When Leia tries to sit alone, a foot away on the bench like a proper adult, Ahsoka refuses to let it happen. She pulls the younger girl to her side and quells protests with a glance. It’s a decent skill, but she’s not sure how long it’s going to work on her niece-in-spirit.

“Your body needs the chemical release of skinship,” she says, and Leia glares at her. “I spent way too much time with the boys to not know about this. Deal.”

Rex sits close enough to knock their knees together under the table, and his warmth is the old comfort she needs.

“Do you want the story you’ll believe, or the truth?” Ahsoka asks.

“What’s the difference?”

“One of them involves something so impossible that even most Jedi wouldn’t believe it,” she tells him.

Fett folds his arms and leans forward to rest them on the table, challenging but oddly open. “Try me.”

“Time travel.”

He blinks, just once, fully controlled. “That’s a tough one.”

“There were only three Jedi left alive when I died,” she says. “Or... whatever it is that happened to me. I think I died. All I know is that one moment, I was thirty-two and dying, and the next, I was... seventeen again, and had these two with me. All of us younger than we were. None of us have even been born yet.”

She refuses to look him in the eye. “They both outlived me by... six years, maybe. Got caught up while traveling instead of dying. Leia was twenty-two. Rex was thirty-five. I’m not technically the oldest anymore. I mean, physically I am, but that doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not exactly doing us any good, and--”

Rex bumps his shoulder to her arm. “I dunno, Commander. I’ve spent a long time looking older than I should. Nice to look younger for once.”

She shoots him a small, pained grin. “Could be worse, yeah.”

“Let’s say I believe you.”

Her attention snaps back to Fett, who’s looking damnably blank, and is showing even less in the Force.

He waits a second for her to relax back into her seat.

“Let’s say I believe you,” he repeats. “How’s ‘Rex’ connected to me? What’s so special about Leia there? And what war did you fight in that has you acting like a veteran?”

“Three years in the clone wars,” she whispers, glancing to Rex and forcing herself to not go for her sabers to defend against an attack that her paranoia says is coming and the Force says is not. “Then almost all the Jedi were wiped out at once, and I spent a year... drifting. Then black ops for the next fifteen.”

“Black ops,” he repeats, still damnably flat.

“There was a Sith Empire,” she says, and she can hear her own tone growing somehow emptier. “Glassing planets. Enslaving entire species. Committing genocides all over. Of course, there was a rebellion, and of course I joined it. I was one of the only people left with Jedi training. For all that I’d left the Order, I still had a duty to the universe.”

His eyes flit to Leia, who shrugs and tries to look prim. “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

“That why you’re special?”

Leia smiles, thin and patronizing. It doesn’t fit on her little face. “I’m special because my biological father was one of the most powerful Force users in history, and his Fall to the dark side and choice to become a Sith is why the Emperor’s rise was nearly uncontested. I do not like power, but it’s in my veins and I can’t change that. Force users are... a lucrative trade, and I’m still the size of a child, so I can’t fight back. I’ll be safer in the Jedi Temple, even if I don’t want to be a Jedi.”

Fett looks to Ahsoka, makes to ask a question, and then shakes his head. Not the time, maybe.

“So, that’s all... very complicated and I don’t know how much of it I believe, but it doesn’t explain...” he trails off, and sighs. “My kid, or whatever you are. I heard you mention clones.”

Rex grins. It is not a kind expression.

“Let me tell you about Kamino.”

---------------------------

Ahsoka has no idea if Fett believes them. Either he thinks they’re telling the truth, or he thinks their delusional kids. Whatever the case, he offers to take them closer to the Core. Ahsoka quietly offers to take a look at his engine in return, and then pretends not to notice when Fett awkwardly drifts to and away from Rex.

“They put chips in our brains to make us kill the Jedi we respected, cared for, even loved. I tried to shoot ‘Soka, Fett. She was seventeen and risked her life to get that chip out of my head while I was trying to kill her. I have never hated myself more than when I woke up and realized what I’d almost done, and I was one of the few that were able to fight it. I heard the stories of dozens of brothers who woke with their chips having degraded and chose to eat their blaster rather than live with the guilt of the orders they’d followed without question because of a thrice-damned Sith slave chip in their head.”

“So no, I won’t call you father or acknowledge you as clan until you do something to prove you’re worth it, shared blood or not.”

What Ahsoka does get out of the arrangement, for all that Fett’s route mostly takes them on a meandering path that isn’t faster than their previous system, is sleep. She gets to rest. She gets to trust that Fett won’t kill Rex, out of guilt for something he hasn’t done, that he won’t kill Leia out of a worry that she’s just a delusional child, a real child, that he won’t kill ‘Sokari’ because it would ruin any chance of gaining Rex’s favor, ever.

She’s not safe, won’t believe she can be until she’s in the Temple and Sidious is dead dead dead, but she’s safer than she’s been in a long time.

Every night, Ahsoka wakes up and stumbles to the little galley, deaths and torture sparkling behind her eyes with the energy of a thousand lost Jedi, ten thousand mourned brothers and sisters.

She is not the only one of their little group to be a survivor of a near-total genocide, but Rex could not feel his brothers die in the Force, even if his nightmares featured what they heard of suicide missions by the emperor’s favored shock troopers, and Leia had... Alderaan had more off-world survivors than there had been Jedi at all.

It’s not worth comparing their pain. It’s stupid to even think it. Part of her can’t help but do it anyway.

“Caf?”

She feels a lek twitch in response to the voice of the only other person on board who can reach the top shelf. “I probably shouldn’t.”

“Whiskey?”

“That’s a definitely shouldn’t.”

“Hoth chocolate?”

“...please.”

She doesn’t lift her head from her arms until the mug clicks down in front of her, ceramic on plastisteel.

“Do I ask what it was this time?”

She shrugs. “It’s hard to explain to non-sensitives.”

“Try me anyway.”

Ahsoka twists the Hoth chocolate in her hands, takes a sip as she thinks. “The Force isn’t just one thing. It’s... energy and philosophy and spirit, a sense of being that ties the entire universe together. Sentient and inanimate and living and dead, empty space and lush forests and stifled cities. For those of us who are sensitive to it, it’s possible to feel the life of everyone around you, theoretically possible to feel entire systems. If you have a Force bond, like a master and padawan, that can stretch across planets, even systems if one or both are particularly powerful.

“So just... just imagine, for a moment, what it’s like to feel the screaming of all those Jedi in the Force as their trusted men shot them down.

“Some of them were close enough that I could feel them die,” she manages. “I... it’s horrible. It’s horrific. It’s not something I can ever forget, and I want to. I want to forget what that moment was like. Not that it happened, but...”

She can feel the tears. Fuck..

“You want to dull the edges.”

“Don’t we all?” she asks, scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes. “Leia lost her entire planet, billions of people, and she was forced to watch. Rex... Force, I can barely imagine, and I was there for most of it.”

Fett watches her, measuring. “From what he said, they were as much your brothers as his, by the end.”

“No,” she immediately denies. “They could have been, maybe, but the ones I was closest to died earlier, and then I left, and by the time the Empire rose, all but a handful were... no. Rex, I will claim as a brother in all the ways that matter, but I don’t get to do that with the rest. I don’t have the right.”

“You’re hard on yourself.”

“Fate of the galaxy, my good bitch. Guess who’s got it on her shoulders.”

He snorts at her, and nods at the mug. “Drink your Hoth chocolate. We’re landing in eight hours, and you’ve got kids to look out for.”

---------------------------

There’s a twitch in the Force when they land, something pulling at her in a way she barely feels. She’s had her shields up so fully for so long that it’s natural to hide away what she is to the point where she can hardly tell what anyone else is, either. It takes more than a moment to remember how to let herself spread out across the world.

“Auntie ‘Soka? Why’d you stop?”

She doesn’t have an answer to Leia’s prodding question. “I don’t know.”

It’s almost familiar. Old and half-forgotten, not the same as what she remembers, but--

“This way,” she says, and wanders off into the crowd. Leia and Rex follow without question. Fett curses and rushes through the rest of his transaction with the docking attendant. The sound of him jogging after them is almost funny, with the armor, but she can’t focus on that.

Ahsoka slips between people with the ease of a career built on such a habit, children trailing like ducklings. She knows this feeling, she knows this person, what is she missi--

“Oh,” she breathes, going stock still. She knows that face. She knows those braids. She even knows the presence.

Younger than Ahsoka had ever seen her, but unmistakably Master Billaba.

“Torrent, what the hell?” Fett demands, finally catching up. “You can’t just run off like that!”

“It’s Depa,” she says, eyes still fixed on the woman parsing through a datapad with an irritated vendor. She has a padawan braid. It doesn’t feel like Master Windu is on-planet, so this might be a solo mission, a... oh. Senior Padawan, Knight Elect. This is the kind of mission taken to test if she’s ready to be promoted.

Ahsoka feels light-headed.

Fett waits for her to elaborate, but she can’t. This was Kanan’s master. This was a member of the High Council. This was a woman who died and--

“You need to sit down,” Fett says, not a touch gruff. He puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her off the main walkway. “I’m... going to talk to the woman in the Jedi robes. You three just stay there and don’t get kidnapped.”

Ahsoka nods, feeling like she’s not quite inhabiting her own body.

It’s Depa.

Her eyes track Fett without conscious control, and her montrals pick up the sound.

Depa looks up when the armor comes close enough, free hand tensed in a way that says she’s preventing herself from reaching for a saber in reaction to the heavily-armored individual standing several feet away.

“Mando,” the woman says. “May I help you?”

“Are you Depa?”

Depa doesn’t do anything so dramatic as gape or step back, but she does blink rapidly for a moment. She then folds her hands down in front of her, drawing her spine up ramrod straight. “I am Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, yes. May I ask why it is that you need to know?”

Ahsoka imagines Fett grimacing, or rolling his eyes, or maybe dithering. She can’t tell from this angle, and he has a helmet on besides. It turns his awkward silences into judgmental ones.

“I’ve had some Jedi kids on my ship, hitching a ride,” he says at length. “One of them recognized you and then just... froze.”

“You have our younglings in your care,” Depa says, carefully not accusatory, but close enough to be a warning.

“Not quite,” he says. “The one that actually came from the temple is seventeen. One of ‘em isn’t Force Sensitive, and the last one is but hasn’t been to Coruscant before. They’re trying to get the little one to the Temple for her own safety.”

Depa considers that, and then passes the datapad to the vendor. “Lead on.”

It’s surprisingly simple, really. Fett did all the talking.

And then Depa is standing right in front of her.

“Like I said,” Fett sighs. “She froze up.”

“Hello,” Depa says, hands laced together inside her sleeves. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Ahsoka shakes her head. “I know of you. I’ve seen you spar. You’ve never spoken to me.”

All true. A little misleading, but it’s fine, it’s all fine.

Depa waits a moment, and then says, “You seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“Sokari T-Torrent,” she manages. The words feel clunky in her mouth, the sound abrasive for all that it’s just her own voice, no different from usual. A little shaky, maybe. She can feel a cool breeze on her upper arms. Shouldn’t she have armor? She should have armor. “It... it’s been a long time since I’ve seen another Jedi. I’m having a hard time believing you’re real.”

“I see,” Depa says. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private? You seem a little unsteady.”

Ahsoka lets herself be led back to the ship, in the company of Mand’alor Jango Fett, Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, Princess-General Leia Organa, and good old Captain Rex.

It’s like the start of a sick joke.

---------------------------

Fett and Depa talk where she can hear, but they rarely address her directly. Both seem to realize that she’s not particularly useful right now. Leia and Rex are pressing up against her at the little table in the galley, and Ahsoka lets them.

This is real. She can feel Depa in the Force, recognizes her energy even if it’s not quite what it will-was-could-have-been. This is happening.

It’s a textbook Traumatic Stress Response case, one of them says.

Fett has his helmet off. Ahsoka’s sure that’s wrong for some reason. She thinks he might already be on wanted lists. Should she worry about Depa trying to arrest him?

Depa asks about Rex at one point. Fett tells her that someone cloned him without his knowing, but the kid is more comfortable with Ahsoka so they’re still working on what that means for him.

It’s more or less true. Rex squeezes her hand the one time someone suggests separating them. She’s not letting that happen unless Rex wants to leave for whatever reason. They’ve worked apart before. They can do it again.

“Auntie Soka? You’re shivering.”

Is she?

Leia cuddles in closer, and Ahsoka runs a hand over her hair. It’s an absentminded motion, and for all that she knows Leia’s hair is fine as silk, it feels like plastic in the moment.

“I don’t think I’m okay,” Ahsoka announces. The words hang in the air like lead balloons, and she can feel Depa staring at her. “I haven’t been for a very long time.”

“Yeah, we noticed,” Fett says. “Do you need to lay down, Torrent?”

Does she?

“No,” she says. “I... I don’t know what I need.”

“The spicy drink,” Rex tells them. “It’s grounding.”

Right. That.

Fett goes to grab it, and Depa continues to watch.

“How long ago did you leave your master?” Depa asks. “Or... did he die?”

Ahsoka closes her eyes and shakes her head. She can feel the shivers now, tremors in her biceps and a shudder she can’t control in the height of her ribcage. Her teeth grind together, jaw like stone.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Depa assures her. “I’m... going to recommend you see a mind healer on Coruscant.”

That was a forgone conclusion.

A cup clinks onto the table. Fett’s back. “Drink.”

She does.

Depa and Fett continue discussing it as “the adults” at the table. She’s older than both of them. Rex is older than all of them. Ahsoka follows about half of what they say. She agrees with most of it. Rex bullies his way into speaking when she doesn’t, without her even asking, because he knows her mind as well as she does. Fett rolls with it. Depa lets him.

She’s going to reach out to the Temple and see about getting them a ride back to Imperial Center Coruscant.

Fett makes Soka go to bed, taking Leia with her.

---------------------------

She feels more like a person come morning.

Depa’s sitting at the table, datapad in her hands and caff on the table in front of her.

“Good morning,” Ahsoka says, rough and croaking, and Depa’s eyes flick up to meet hers. She nods a shallow hello.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” Ahsoka says, and goes about gathering a breakfast. There’s definitely some dried meat in here. She can get something fresh when they stop by the market later.

“I was hoping to speak with you about your options,” Depa tells her, once she’s sat at the table. “Fett and your friend Rex took care of most of the negotiation, and I feel like I have an idea of what would work best for you.”

Ahsoka nods slowly. “Okay.”

“There is a Master-Padawan pair a few planets away,” Depa says. “The Council informed me when I spoke with them about you and your wards. They’d be headed back to the Temple in a few days anyway, and the Council has agreed to extend an offer to Fett to handle the transportation. The presence of a Jedi Master on board will allow for him to get in and out of the Core unmolested, and we’d like for you and yours to have a Jedi escort, given what happened yesterday afternoon.”

Her complete spiral into nonbeing?

“I understand,” she says instead. “I suppose Fett agreed because he’s still trying to get Rex to like him?”

Depa shrugs. “That part isn’t my business.”

Of course it isn’t.

“Rex can stay with me for a while, right?” Ahsoka finally asks. “I know it’s not exactly protocol, but I’m...”

“In need of a support system until you’ve seen a mind healer, and against all odds, the child is part of it,” Depa summarizes. “Yes, I recognized as much. I think the Council will be able to allow some leeway there. I don’t know if he’ll enjoy it, given that all the others his age are Initiates, but we can adjust as necessary. On that note... Do you know Leia’s midichlorian count?”

“No,” Ahsoka says, and hesitantly adds, “But her biological father was my Jedi Master, and I’m told his count broke records even as a child. Given what Leia’s shown so far... it’s why I’ve been in a hurry to get her to the Temple.”

Depa frowns at her, clearly working through the implications of a Jedi having a daughter and still teaching... and then visibly dismisses the situation, eyes closing to breathe in the steam of her caff.

Biological father certainly implies a child that was raised by her mother or adopted out so the Jedi father could remain in their chosen career without a conflict of interest or duty.

She’ll tell the council the truth, or... at least Master Koon. Master Kenobi is still a padawan, but she can tell Master Koon.

She already told Jango Fett, of all people.

“Padawan Torrent?”

Her head snaps up. She hasn’t been a padawan in over fifteen years. It’s weird to hear. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted some time to think it over before I presented the offer to Fett,” Depa says.

Ahsoka gets the distinct feeling that Depa is planning a report to the Council that has ‘needs a mind healer’ underlined at least three times.

“No, I’m--I’m fine. That sounds like a good plan.”

“I’ll speak with him, then. Would you like to come with?”

"No, thank you.”

---------------------------

Fett agrees. Ahsoka’s pretty sure it’s all to do with Rex and maybe Leia. It’s probably nothing to do with ‘Sokari.’ She’s a Jedi, an adult in mind and in body, or at least close enough to count. She’s a damn sight more ‘enemy’ to Fett than the other two are. Not as much as Depa, maybe, but Fett’s been playing nice with her for Leia’s sake.

He plays nice with Ahsoka for Rex’s. That’s all.

They’re only a few planets over from the meeting point, and they have a few days to hang around before the escort meets them. Depa hadn’t given them a name--apparently it could have compromised the opsec for the Jedi team--but Ahsoka’s pretty sure she’ll be able to identify almost anyone. She gets the feeling that the Force is going to send her a familiar face, just as it did Master Padawan Billaba.

Ahsoka lets herself feel the world around her. It’s dark and dreary, in the sense that the beaten-down port is full of petty crimes and less petty horrors, but it’s still lighter than most of the Empire had been. She sneaks away from the ship at night, ignoring Fett at her back, and performs a bit of vigilante justice while she can. She’ll be banned from doing so as soon as she’s reinstated as a Jedi, probably, but for now... for now, she can look at the drug cartels and ‘they’re not slaves, really’ workers and do something to help.

She doesn’t use her sabers. She doesn’t need to. It’s been a long time since she has, for small fry like these.

“What are you doing?” Fett asks her, landing heavily behind her back.

“Chip removal,” she says, hand pressed to the slave’s leg. Her eyes are closed, but she can hear him shifting. “Let me concentrate, I don’t have a meddroid for this.”

He’s silent until she finishes, and waits until the people she’s helped are on their way to the planet’s freedom routes. He doesn’t ask what she did with the owners.

“You’ve done this before.”

“Regularly,” she confirms. “You?”

He doesn’t answer that, just ambles over to the the chains and stares down at them.

“Fett?”

“You go through this like it’s as easy as breathing,” he says. “It’s... impressive.”

“I guess?” she hesitates to continue. “I’m... I don’t think of it that way. This is the easy stuff. A time-waster that helps people. If I wanted to help for real, I’d been going after Jabba or Sidious or--”

“How old were you?” he asks, turning on his heel to face her dead-on. The vocoder of his helmet pulls the emotion from his voice. “When did this... these missions, the slavery battles, when did that start for you?”

“Fourteen,” she says. She’s not entirely sure, really, what counted as a mission for ending slavery and what counted as just a part of war, but she can round down. “Maybe fifteen. It’s a bit of a blur.”

“And you just kept doing it.”

“Of course,” she says. “If I have the time and the energy, if I need to do something and there’s nothing official on my hands, why not?”

He doesn’t answer her.

---------------------------

Rex greets them before she does.

Ahsoka, in her defense, is asleep at the time. It’s a restless sleep, but it’s enough that she doesn’t sense the nearing Force signatures until they’re almost at the ship.

She recognizes one of them.

“Auntie ‘Soka?” Leia questions, when she lurches to her feet and starts pulling on her boots with all the energy of a zombie. “Where are you going?”

“Jedi,” Ahsoka grunts. “Here.”

“I see.”

Leia dresses to follow her, in a little coat that’ll withstand the chill of the outside air, and Ahsoka makes it to the cargo hold just in time to hear Rex saying, “I’m not shaking your hand until you put your gloves on, Vos.”

She laughs to herself, breathless with the knowledge of what she’s about to find. She jumps the railing of the upper walkway, drops down just in front of the Master-Padawan team, and keeps her back to Fett and Rex. “Hello, there.”

One human, one Kiffar. She knows the latter.

“Would you be Sokari Torrent?” the Master asks.

“I am,” she says, with a slight bow. She can tell there’s a bit of judgement for how she’s dressed, but they’re covering it well. A Shadow and his trainee know the value of armor better than most Jedi bother with. “I’m afraid Padawan Billaba didn’t inform me of your names before we met.”

“And yet your friend knew my padawan,” the Master says.

“By reputation,” she says, as smoothly as she can. “I’ve encountered Quinlan Vos before, though I doubt he remembers--”

“I’d remember someone like you,” Quinlan interrupts, with a grin she’s sure is meant to be charming and rogueish.

He’s... very young for her, and not her type. Mostly, she wants to pat him on the head, but that probably wouldn’t go over very well. She still looks like she’s younger than him.

“Anyway,” she says, turning back to the master, “I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are, Master.”

“I am Tholme,” he says, with the bow that a Master gives a Padawan. She feels a little slighted, but it’s fine. She looks the right age, it’s fine.

It’s not like they know.

“It’s nice to meet you, Master Tholme,” she says. “My charges are Rex Torrent, the young man behind me, and currently coming down the ladder is Leia Antilles. I’m sure you’re aware of Jango Fett.”

“The Mand’alor,” Quinlan volunteers, and Ahsoka can almost hear Fett’s teeth grinding.

“Don’t call me that,” he says. She’s sure he’s got a hand drifting for his blaster.

“There isn’t a whole lot of room on the ship,” she says before the men can get into whatever weird contest she’s sure someone might start. Her bet’s on Fett. “But Leia and Rex are small enough to share with me, so I’m sure we can make it work.”

“There’s spare rolls for anyone comfortable with sleeping in the hold,” Fett grunts. “Or on the floor in the passenger room.”

“Well, I guess I could ask for a little help fi--”

“Vos,” Ahsoka snaps, letting her voice take on the kind of ‘obey me or get fresher duty’ irritation that she’d perfected back when the rebellion still had her managing people, before they’d realized she was more use in the field. “Do not.”

There’s a moment’s pause, and Tholme looks unimpressed with that raised eyebrow, but the kind of unimpressed that’s split between his own padawan and the stranger before him.

“Um,” Quinlan says. “I just--”

“No,” she cuts him off. “No flirting.”

It’s weird and uncomfortable and she’d have maybe been okay with it if she was actually the seventeen-or-eighteen-ish(?) that she looked, but she’s not. She’s in her thirties and Vos is... what, twenty? Twenty-one? No.

He stares at her, and she wonders momentarily if she’d gone too far in the direction of judging his intentions in the Force and preempted actual flirtations.

“I’m sorry?” He offers, looking confused, but ashamed. “I, uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

She definitely preempted the actual flirtation.

Fuck.

Ahsoka closes her eyes and breathes in. Breathes out. Opens her eyes. “Right. That was... I’m not sure how much Padawan Billaba told you about me.”

“Enough,” Tholme says. He moves forward and puts a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. Ahsoka has no idea if it’s to comfort him or hold him back. “I didn’t share most of it with my padawan, but I have a general understanding of what’s going on.”

Quinlan darts a look at his teacher, but Ahsoka doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Thank you for your understanding,” she says, and bows, and stiffly turns away to walk to the galley.

---------------------------

Leia squirms into the bench seat, shoving her way under Ahsoka’s arm like a particularly wriggly tooka.

“What was that?” Leia demands, the authority of a rebellion general rather useless in the squeaky voice of a child.

“What was what?”

“The whole thing with Padawan Vos,” Leia says. “You blew up at him before he even did anything.”

That’s pretty true.

“I felt the flirtation coming before it happened and reacted inappropriately because I panicked. I’m significantly older than him, but I can’t tell him that, so it’s just awkward and uncomfortable and... I’m not okay, Princess. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Yeah, we can tell.”

“Leia.”

“What? I need therapy too! Captain Rex needs therapy! I’m pretty sure Fett needs therapy! You, Fulcrum, you really need therapy. None of us are okay.” She huffs, wiggling impossibly closer. “I don’t like it, but it’s true.”

“I know,” Ahsoka groans. “I just... I just need to hold out until the Temple.”

“Will you be able to hold it together if you see someone you actually care about?” Leia demands. “What are you going to do when you see Kenobi?”

“Stop.”

“I’m serious, you--”

“Leia, that’s enough,” she snaps. “I was fighting that war before you were even born, and I’ve dealt with the consequences since. I know the risks and I’ll thank you to remember who taught you to control your own mind.”

Leia stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath. “That was uncalled for.”

“You’re not the child you appear to be,” Ahsoka reminds her, not a little sharply. “You want to dish it out, be ready to take it. What will you do when we see Bail Organa? When we see the toddler that is Anakin Skywalker?”

“I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Ahsoka mutters. She isn’t surprised when Leia ducks out of the embrace and leaves the galley. She lets the girl go, guilt warring with the memory of how Master Kenobi had more than once spoken that way to Anakin at the height of the war. The fact that she’s an adult in the body of a child isn’t an excuse for poking at Ahsoka’s open wounds. It was cruel and unnecessary, and unbecoming of a... not a Jedi. A princess. A politician.

She rests her head on her arms and zones out. She should meditate, but that seems like... too much effort.

She can feel Vos and Tholme setting up in the room they’ve been assigned. Neither seems particularly angry. Most likely, Tholme’s given the absolute shortest explanation of ‘child soldier, dead master, highly traumatized and emotionally unstable’ to Vos to smooth over the incident in the cargo hold. Rex is with Leia; he’s agitated, but less so than Leia herself. Fett’s annoyed, in the cockpit, but he seems annoyed as often as not. There’s a shudder at lift-off, and a few minutes later, they’re in hyperspace, headed for the Core.

Fett finds her, falls into the other bench in full armor, and drops his elbows onto the table. The helmet clunks down a moment later.

She doesn’t lift her head. “What do you want?”

“Do I need to keep Vos away from you?”

“What?”

“Vos. He made you uncomfortable. Was that him being someone that hurt you in the future, or just the interaction being awkward?”

She lifts her head. She stares at him. “What?”

He leans back and crosses his arms. “Do you need me to tell Vos to stay the hell away from you?”

She’s gaping. “You realize I’m thirty-two, right? I can handle my own battles.”

“You’re also traumatized as hell and everyone can see it,” Fett argues back. “If Vos himself is a trigger, I can handle it.”

“He’s not,” she tells him. This is strange. Fett’s being strange. “He was actually a friend of my grandmaster’s. I’m just uncomfortable with the flirting because I’m a lot older than he realizes, and I can’t tell him that.”

He nods sharply, and then looks away. The silence sits.

“Thanks for asking?” Ahsoka says, well aware of how her confusion over the offer turns it into a question. “I mean, thank you for... caring.”

I guess, she finishes in the privacy of her own head. Or at least pretending to.

Fett makes a face, still not facing her. He eyes the galley instead. She can guess where his thoughts are going. The galley is... not very big, especially with six people on board instead of one, but she’s sure they’ve stocked up enough. On the off chance they do go through more than expected, because of how many growing bodies are in residence, they can stop off and buy more. They have those resources now.

Jango never does ask what she did with the slavers.

“Who’s going to cry if I spice things properly?” he asks.

“Probably Leia,” she says immediately. “Vos will try to power through it even though he’s going to be overwhelmed. No idea about Tholme, but I think he’ll keep a straight face whether he likes it or not. Rex and I are fine, ‘hot’ was pretty much the only flavor of seasoning the GAR had.”

“GAR?”

“Grand Army of the Republic.”

He finally looks at her.

“You already knew I was a child soldier, Fett; don’t act surprised.”

“That doesn’t mean I like hearing about it.”

“I was fourteen. That’s old enough by Mando standards, Fett. Just think back, when did you get on the battlefield?”

“I take your point,” he says, lip curling unpleasantly. “It just hits different now that I’m old enough to look back and think of how damned young fourteen really is.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Yeah, well--”

“You said the clones were ten.”

There’s the rub, isn’t it?

Of course it was about the clones.

“...closer to seven, by the end. Kamino was just making speedies at that point. Triple growth on the average instead of double, but averages in that case meant they’d been growing at double rates for six years and then got forced through four growth cycles in a single year to beef up the army when we kept losing men.” She looks down at the table, picking at a scratch in the plastipaint with her nail. “Rex and the rest of the ones from the beginning were basically twenty in mind and body, even if they’d only been decanted ten years earlier. The speedies... I always wondered. They’d gone from functionally twelve to functionally twenty in a year. That’s not... even in Kamino, that can’t have been normal. They didn’t act like adults, not the way the originals did.”

Fett rubs at his face, groaning. He swears under his breath in three different languages.

She pities him, if only because he hasn’t actually done any of this yet. He’s paying for the crimes of a man he likely won’t ever become.

She kicks him under the table. “Wanna make tiingilar and see how long it takes Vos to start crying while he insists it’s fine?”

---------------------------

Dinner is when the questions start. Some are relatively easy. Others, not so much.

“My Master was Leia’s biological father,” is an easy truth to share. “She inherited his power, so I need to get her to the temple for her own safety, because home no longer is.”

“Yes, her adoptive parents were unfortunately killed rather recently. We’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Rex is with me. Where he goes, I go, and vice versa.”

That one gets her an odd look.

“I thought...” Quinlan trails off, gesturing between Rex and Fett.

Fett keeps his face impassive, but his discomfort and guilt leak into the Force. “I didn’t know Rex existed until I ran into these three in a spaceport cantina a few weeks ago.”

Quinlan blinks at him, looks at Rex again, and then turns back to Fett with a grin that might have been described as ‘saucy’ if he were less smug about it. “Wild oats, huh?”

“Are you shitting me right now,” Leia whispers, and Ahsoka elbows her.

“That was inappropriate, padawan.”

Quinlan’s grin fades as Fett just continues to eye him.

“Um, so--”

“How old is the kid?” Fett interrupts.

Darting eyes answer him, as Quinlan tries to gauge Rex. “Ten? Maybe twelve?”

“And how old am I?”

“...early thirties?”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

Quinlan’s grin fades further as he does the math.

“I’d have been between fifteen and seventeen when he was born,” Fett says, tone flat. “Between fourteen and sixteen at conception. I know damn well I wasn’t doing anything that could have resulted in a kid at that age.”

Quinlan rallies. “So, brothers?”

Tholme sighs loudly, hand over his eyes.

“I’m a clone,” Rex says, and Ahsoka can feel the amusement he gets out of Quinlan’s confused shock. They’d both had plenty of respect for Master Vos, but Padawan Vos was nothing but trouble. “Harvested genetic material, grown in a tube, inconsistent aging meaning I don’t even know how old I am for sure.”

“I broke him out,” Ahsoka adds, which is half true.

“There was a chip in my head,” Rex adds, with a bright smile. Quinlan’s discomfort grows. “She got it out. Also, lots of brothers. None of them are... around anymore. The creators were trying to make an army.”

Vos and Tholme have no response. Fett looks like he’s been carved out of stone. Leia’s just ignoring them and picking at her food.

Ahsoka lifts a hand and, without looking, Rex high-fives her.

---------------------------

“Drop your elbow.”

Ahsoka tries to cover her smile at the dirty look that Leia shoots Fett. Fett remains unimpressed by the glare of royalty, just gestures for the girl to do as he said.

“I know how to fight,” Leia grumbles. “I took lessons. I was good at them.”

“And I’m better,” Fett says, leaving no room for argument. “You want the Torrents to take over?”

The Torrents. Rex and Soka. She likes being referred to that way. Like they’re a team that never got split up.

Force, she wished they’d never gotten split up.

“Again,” Fett orders, and Leia moves through the Mandalorian kata with ill grace in her emotions and all grace in her sweeping limbs.

Well, as much grace as an undersized six-year-old can, at any rate.

“Think he’ll ask me to spar her again?” Rex asks, dropping down into the seat next to Ahsoka and passing her a drink.

“Maybe,” she acknowledges. “I think he’s wondering if it’s worth asking Vos to spar with her, so she gets more experience with size differences.”

“Hm?”

“She flinched at his face again,” she tells him. “The whole... thing with Boba, I guess. She still won’t tell me why Fett triggers her sometimes, but he’s not pressing her to spar with him, and there’s only so much she can get out of fighting me. Asking Tholme would be presumptuous, but Vos is just a padawan. I think it’d work out.”

“And you?”

She looks at him, already feeling a cresting wave of bullshit she doesn’t want to deal with. “What about me?”

“Are you going to spar with the Jedi?”

She should. She hasn’t sparred with a saber since she got tossed back into a body only half-familiar to her. She’s let Leia borrow the shorter one to learn some basic blocking moves, Shii-Cho and then, with hesitance, the first Soresu form. Another time, she loaned it to Rex to practice some attacks; they both know that the next time he picks up her saber in battle, having lost his weapons or she her grip, it will be neither the first or last time he wields a sword of light. None of that, however, is... sparring.

None of that is against someone who knows what they’re doing.

How long has it been since she sparred with anyone other than Kanan and Ezra?

How long has it been since she sparred without the looming specter of Darth Vader in the back of her mind, without fear of the Inquisitors, without the knowledge that any saber held by someone other than her two friends would be red as blood and twice as drenched.

Would she be able to hold back as she fought?

“I should,” she acknowledges, eyes on where Fett is nudging Leia’s feet into position for some kind of leveraging flip. She’s so small. “It would probably be a good idea to spar against a master at some point.”

“Do you think you can?” Rex asks.

“I never knew him,” she says. “And he isn’t Dark. It should be fine.”

Rex nods, taking her word for it. They watch as Leia stumbles on a final move, and Fett gestures for her to sit down and get a drink.

“That man is a terror,” she informs them.

(She’d once described him as a slave-driver. She had not made that mistake twice.)

“Least it’s not Kamino!” Rex tells her cheerfully. When Leia refuses to look impressed, he laughs at her.

Ahsoka has a half-second’s warning before heavy boots thud to the ground next to her. “What’s Kamino?”

“Hello, Vos, it’s nice to see you too,” she drawls. “I’m good, thanks for asking, and yourself?”

The boy-not-quite-man rolls his eyes. “Hi, Torrents; hi, tiny one.”

Leia glares at him next.

“So, Kamino?”

“Planet by Rishi,” Rex says.

“Why were you there?”

“They specialize in cloning.”

Ahsoka covers her mouth as the conversation drops into the same awkward gap that always happens when Quinlan stumbles into a subject he didn’t know to avoid.

“Like... you were made there, or you were researching how it works for your own--”

Ahsoka slaps a hand over his mouth. “Now’s a great time to stop talking.”

He licks her palm.

She bares her teeth and arches her fingers just enough to press nails into his cheek.

He bites at her palm, and she yanks her hand away.

“You’re all children,” Leia accuses, conveniently forgetting that Ahsoka and Rex are both over a decade older than her.

“I can throw you the length of a swimming pool,” Ahsoka tells her. “One of the fancy competition-ready ones that would make a Tatooinian cry. You are absolutely the child here.”

“Using the Force is cheating, sir,” Rex informs her.

“Only if there’s a competition,” Ahsoka shoots back. “And proving that a certain princess is a small child is not a competition. It’s a declarative fact.”

“I’m going to rip open the seams on all your tops except the ugliest one,” Leia decides.

“Try me,” Ahsoka challenges. “Adi’ka.”

A low, rough cough interrupts them. “Are you done?”

Fett has his arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised. He knows they’re all adults here, and is entirely unamused. As the silence drags, the eyebrow climbs a little higher.

“Done with what?” Quinlan finally asks, thereby volunteering himself to spar in hand-to-hand with Jango Fett, as one does.

“Poor, poor Vos,” Rex laughs, watching as Fett barks out orders at Quinlan every five seconds to fix his footwork, to stop dropping his guard, to stop wasting energy on flips instead of just dodging the easy way.

“Throw him!” Ahsoka calls. To her delight, Fett obliges.

The thing is, Quinlan isn’t bad at brawling. He’s got training, endurance, skill. The man knows what he’s doing, objectively. He’s just not a match for Fett, and is used enough to relying on his saber that his hand-to-hand skills are rusty. They are perhaps less rusty than those Jedi who don’t take questionable jobs in the Mid-Outer Rim, and Ahsoka’s got a suspicion that Vos regularly gets into bar fights in his downtime, but none of that is enough for him to actually do more than survive against Fett without his saber.

Even the saber wouldn’t help, if Fett had his armor.

“Whose idea was this?”

Ahsoka cranes her head back and smiles. “Hello, Master Tholme. Vos... volunteered.”

“Did he know he was volunteering?”

“No comment.”

Tholme snorts, crossing his arms and eyeing the spar in front of him. “I thought Fett hated Jedi. Giving us a ride for the sake of you three is one thing, but why is he teaching my padawan?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Constructive bullying?”

There’s a small twitch of a smile, quickly gone. “He said something wrong, I’m guessing?”

“There was no way he could have known,” she dismisses. “We’re just, like, ninety-percent tragic backstories.”

“You’d think the Force would warn him,” Rex notes.

“That’s not how the Force works,” Leia chides.

“No, no, he’s right,” Ahsoka corrects. “The Force does sometimes step in to stop a person from saying something stupid. However, Padawan Vos is at an age where people think they are very rational while being more irrational than they likely ever will be again.”

“Do I want to ask what you were doing at that age?” Tholme asks.

“Running bla...” she trails off, then whips around to gape at him.

He smiles, bland and unassuming. “Does Fett know?”

“Know... what?” Ahsoka asks.

“That you’re significantly older than you look,” he says, voice just low enough that the sparring duo can’t hear him. “All three of you.”

Ahsoka turns back to the spar, only catching Tholme out of the corner of her eye. “He knows.”

“Mm. Were you planning on telling the Council?”

“Yes.” That part was never in question. “How did you figure it out?”

“I am a good investigator,” he says. “And you rely a little too heavily on your physical forms to obfuscate. Were it just one of you, that wouldn’t be a problem, but the pattern repeated across three is a little easier to discern.”

“I hoped the whole ‘child soldiers’ thing would be a bigger distraction,” Ahsoka mutters. She glances at Leia and Rex. Both of them are used to being in charge to some degree, giving orders and making contingency plans, but in this... in this, Ahsoka is in charge. They’d decided that at the very start. It didn’t matter that Rex had lived longer and had more experience, or that Leia had held the highest Rebellion rank of the three of them. Ahsoka had been agreed as leader, and they were relying on her.

They’re waiting on her orders. Stiff and unhappy, in Leia’s case, but they trust her.

“Will you be telling Vos?” She asks.

“No,” Tholme says. “Your secrets remain your own unless they endanger us, and I’ve a feeling they won’t be.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rex jokes, smile not reaching his eyes. “I’ve been working with this family for too long to trust that trouble won’t find them around the next corner.”

“This family?” Tholme repeats.

“Sokari was telling the truth about her master being Leia’s biological father,” Rex says. He shrugs. “I worked with him, with his wife, with both of his kids, with his master and his padawan. All of them, to a one, are trouble magnets.”

“Ah, but that’s not the secret that’s putting us in danger,” Tholme points out. “Simply existence as a Jedi.”

Rex shrugs. “Fair enough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”

Ahsoka lurches to her feet, turning with a smile and dancing backward into the the stretch of empty cargo hold they used for such things. “A spar, Master Tholme?”

He looks past her, to Quinlan, and raises a brow. “Would you not prefer to spar with someone a little closer to your level first?”

She barks out a laugh. “Master Tholme, I’m afraid I’ve spent more of my life fighting to survive than having normal friendly spars. My style is more lethal than the average, and you’ve already seen what war’s done to my mind. I ask to spar with you because, if I lose control, if I slip in time or react on an instinct that isn’t appropriate, I trust that you’ll be more able to stop me than a senior padawan.”

He smiles. “Yes, I gathered as much. Still, better to ask. Shall we wait for them to finish up?”

Ahsoka shrugs, turns, and yells. “Clear the deck!”

Rex snorts behind her, and lowly mutters, “Sir, yes, sir.”

She smirks at him over her shoulder. “At ease, Captain.”

“That’s ‘Commander’ to you, I got promoted,” he sniffs, chin held high.

Heavy steps herald Fett’s arrival at their little group. “The hells are you doing?”

“I’m going to have a spar with a Jedi Master, and I want you and Vos to not get stabbed.”

“I’m not that easy to injure in an actual fight, let alone by accident,” Fett grouses. He looks up and over at Vos, who is already significantly taller, if a fair shot less built. “This one, on the other hand...”

“Hey!”

Ahsoka laughs and backs into the center of the cargo hold, drawing her sabers. “Don’t worry, Vos, I won’t play dirty. You’ll probably get your master back in one piece.”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you? He’s a Jedi Master and former Watchman. You’re... what, eighteen?”

Ahsoka raises a brow and activates her sabers, tapping the blades together and watching as more than one person winces. “Wanna bet on how long I last?”

“No,” he says immediately, stepping back to join Rex on the bench. “You’ve already blindsided me enough. I’m not dumb enough to fall for whatever you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“I don’t have sleeves.”

“Armwarmers-slash-greaves, then.”

“Greaves go on the legs, these are vambraces.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “I’m just going to stop talking now!”

“Good plan,” Leia snarks, and then literally hisses when Rex ruffles her hair.

Tholme lights his saber and sinks into an opening stance.

Ahsoka mirrors him.

---------------------------

She wins, but barely. She's had a few weeks to practice her forms, has sparred hands-only with Rex and Fett, but this is her first real try at using her sabers against a person, instead of a blaster or thin air, since she arrived in the past. She’s only mostly adjusted to her body.

But Tholme is a healer and a watchman, not a duelist. Ahsoka held her own against Ventress, against Grievous, against Maul when she was this age. Still adjusting to her body or not, her lineage is one of battle, and it bled true.

“You’re terrifying,” Quinlan tells her after they’re done, smiling like the sun as he hands her a towel. “Please never turn that on me.”

She laughs at him. “Would you believe that I’m out of practice?”

“Out of practice with what?” he asks, horrified and fascinated. “Fighting Sith Lords?”

“Among other things,” she says, and smirks when he chokes on his drink. “Multiple darkside users who claimed to be Sith, at least. One being a full Lord, one that was disowned by his master, and one that was apprenticed to a Banite apprentice, so she wasn’t technically allowed to be a Darth because of the rule of two.”

Tholme meets her eyes past Quinlan’s shoulder, head tilted and eyes half-shut in consideration. He’s taking her seriously. He knows what she’s not saying.

“How...” Quinlan trails off and shakes his head. “You know what, no. Asking you people questions never ends well.”

“Good plan,” Ahsoka says, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “Also, you need to spar with Fett more. Your footwork is shit.”

“It is not,” Quinlan gripes. “You’re all just scary good at this stuff.”

“You mean surviving?” Leia pipes up, and smiles innocently when Quinlan turns to pout at her.

“You’re getting bullied by a six-year-old,” Rex informs him.

“Yeah,” Quinlan sighs. “I know.”

Ahsoka laughs, and it’s fine. It’s all fine. For a week, everything is honestly great. She trains, she laughs, she works through the nightmares.

Then fucking Denon happens.

---------------------------

Denon is a city-planet on the intersection of two major hyperlanes. It’s the kind of place where they stop for two things:

Fuel.

Paperwork.

Technically, there’s a whole mess of paperwork they have to fill out to continue along this specific hyperlane, since they aren’t official Republic ships, and don’t have the licenses to just pass along like ships that are pre-registered to the Trade Federation or the like. They could sneak past--literally all of them know smuggler’s routes--but it’s honestly less of a pain to do things legally. They have a Jedi Master. They have cash. Some of that cash wasn’t quite legally acquired, but nobody needs to know that.

It’s supposed to be a pit stop. That’s all.

It’s just a pit stop.

But no, the galaxy isn’t that kind and Ahsoka’s luck is currently being compounded with a Skywalker, two Fetts, and Vos, which means that of course they run into trouble. Of course they do. There was never any other option, was there?

“Motherfucker,” Ahsoka snaps, lifting her head up and slamming her drink on the table.

The glass is empty. That’s good. They’re in a restaurant right now, a little splurging after weeks with only each others’ company, and spilling the sugary child-friendly juice with that move would have drawn way too much attention from the servers.

“Language,” Tholme says, voice idly unconcerned.

“Sir?” Rex asks, kicking Ahsoka under the table. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wr--that jackass,” she hisses, getting to her feet. “Rex, grab a blaster, I’ve got shebs to kick.”

“Okay,” Rex says, grabbing one out of Fett’s holster and scooting out of the booth before anyone can tell him not to. “Whose?”

“I didn’t even know that he was... osik, I don’t have jurisdiction,” she realizes. “I don’t have any record of wrongdoing. I can’t arrest him since we don’t have evidence of criminal wrongdoing...”

“Are you two going to explain what’s going on?” Vos asks. “Or sit down, maybe?”

Ahsoka makes her decision. She eyes the window--the restaurant in question is a little dingy, but it’s also several dozen stories in the air. “Rex, remember the thing we did on Geonosis that you hated?”

He pauses, and then sighs heavily. “Yes, sir. I remember the... yeeting.”

Hah. That slang doesn’t even exist yet.

“Great. With me!”

It’s a good thing the windows are forcefields instead of transparisteel. A bit of a twist to the energy and they’re gone.

She only hears a little screaming before the wind tears all noises away while they plummet.

They land lightly--of course--and Ahsoka wraps them both in a don’t notice me aura. Nobody even notices that they’ve just come from above. It’s great that she can just Do These Things again, and get brushed off as Weird Jedi Shit, instead of worrying about the Empire. She’s missed being able to jump out of windows without fear.

Rex follows her as she starts running through the city. They don’t have comms, and he’s still so small, which means he can’t keep up with her even if she runs at normal speeds without Force enhancement.

“Should you carry me?” he asks, before she can figure out if it’s worth suggesting. She did it a few times before they joined up with Jango.

“It’s not... urgent, I think,” she says. She hesitates to speak, even as she keeps jogging with Rex at her heels. “Honestly, I’m trying to figure out if there’s anything I can ding him for so we can attack him. It’s all well and good that I can beat him right now, but all the crimes I know about haven’t happened yet, so it wouldn’t be legal...”

“Commander?”

“Hm?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

She scrolls the conversation back mentally, considers, and says, “Oh.”

“Who’s getting steamrolled?”

“Uh, Maul’s here,” Ahsoka admits.

“Ah,” Rex says. He makes a face. “I understand the desire to jump out a window, now. I don’t agree with it, but I understand.”

Ahsoka laughs. “I mean, I just... every time I’ve seen him for almost twenty years, it’s been like... on sight, you know? We’ve never not attacked each other, except when I needed him to cause problems on Mandalore. But I always knew I was in the right, then.”

“So... what do we arrest him for?” Rex prompts.

“Um... carrying a lightsaber without a license?” she hazards. “We’ll need Tholme there. Hopefully I can just shout at him and he’ll attack me, but I think he only went full nutjob after Master Kenobi cut his legs off. He might be too controlled to try to kill me just for yelling at him.”

“...do we have to stalk him?” Rex asks, sounding like he’d most likely sigh if he weren’t mid-run.

She scoops him up and swings him around onto her back before she answers. “I think we have to stalk him, Rex’ika.”

“Don’t call me that.”

---------------------------

Maul is... exceptionally sneaky, actually. Either that, or he hasn’t done anything wrong yet. Ahsoka’s betting on the former, because she’s seen this particular skocha kung take over a planet before anyone realized he was the most dangerous person around.

Or maybe he’s just not committing crimes, and is in fact just here to buy groceries.

He’s examining a papaya.

She fantasizes about jumping across the market and greeting him with a heel to the cheekbone.

“Are you imagining a flying kick, Sir?”

“Yeah...”

“He’s examining a papaya, Sir.”

“I know...”

“Does he know we’re here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Do you think I should go hit him?”

“No.”

“Should I hit on him?”

“No, Sir. I would not advise that.”

“He’s looking at the neloms.”

“I can see that.”

“Why does he have to be so bo--did he just fucking bite a nelom?”

“It appears so, Sir.”

“Like... like rind and all. Just bit the little fucker.”

“Seems it.”

A scuff of metal. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

Ahsoka tips her head around to peer through the grate. “We’re spying, Fett, what does it look like we’re doing?”

Rex cranes his head. “We’re hanging upside-down from a fire escape to get a look at a suspected Sith Apprentice that is currently shopping for various fruits, Mand’alor.”

Ahsoka waves. “Hi, Master Tholme.”

“Sokari,” the master greets. “This seems a very conspicuous way to spy.”

She shrugs as well as she can from this angle. “Yes, but you see, this way’s more fun.”

“Is it now.”

Rex shifted. “He’s on the move!”

“To kill someone?!”

“No, to the deli meats.”

“Kriff.”

---------------------------

Apparently, Tholme and Fett had told Quinlan to take care of Leia, as Leia had wanted to finish her juice and refused to get involved in the Torrents’ nonsense. According to her, if they couldn’t be bothered to explain the nonsense, they didn’t need her.

This was true and accurate.

Quinlan shows up while they’re still stalking Maul, having moved to a low rooftop for a decent vantage point with less likelihood of being spotted. He’s giving Leia an eopie-back ride, and the pout on her face at needing it is adorable. She pouts harder when she sees them.

“Are you even trying to hide?” Leia scoffs.

“Not really,” Ahsoka admits. She’s got Fett’s binoculars out. “I’m not sure he’s caught wind of the fact that we’re here yet.”

“Or he has and he’s just biding his time to escape while we’re distracted,” Tholme points out.

“Meh,” Ahsoka says, avidly devouring the visual that is a teenage Maul glaring at leafy vegetables. “I just want him to do something so I have an excuse to beat his ass.”

“Do I get to know who?” Quinlan asks, setting Leia down on the roof. “Or are we going to keep being completely unwilling to share information?”

“Baby Sith Lord,” Ahsoka says. “He’s fifteen. A child.”

“A baby,” Rex agrees.

“You’re... that’s... ugh,” Quinlan groans as loudly and as dramatically as he dares, flopping down to the rooftop. “Master Tholme, please tell me this isn’t a real Sith.”

“He’s Dark,” Tholme confirms. “Sith is... up for debate until we have evidence.”

“He’s a bitch is what he is,” Ahsoka mutters. She observes the teenager in question stop to poke at some pink tomatoes. “E chu ta, break the law, already!”

“Does he have a lightsaber?” Quinlan asks. “If he has a lightsaber and no Jedi ID or specialty license, we can probably arrest him.”

“Auntie Soka doesn’t have a license or ID,” Leia points out.

“She’s got a Jedi escort,” Tholme says. “And if our supposed Sith is polite and plays nice, we can probably escort him to the Temple as well.”

Rex snorts derisively.

“Do you know why he’s on Denon?” Fett asks.

“No clue,” Ahsoka admits. “Evil reasons, probably.”

“You’re useless,” Leia tells her.

“Thanks, princess, how’s that attempt to open the jam jar by yourself coming?”

Leia says something very inappropriate for a princess, for a child, and for a lady. It’s fairly appropriate for a soldier, which is admittedly what she’s been for a few years now. Ahsoka sticks her tongue out at the girl like the mature operative she is.

“I wish we could still get him to lose his osik by just showing up and insulting him,” Rex mutters, low enough that Quinlan probably can’t hear.

“I wanna punch him in the face,” Ahsoka confesses. “I want him to try to punch me in the face, and fail.”

“Don’t bully the baby Sith,” Rex admonishes.

“He’s a Sith.”

“He’s fifteen, it’s tacky.”

“But it’s Maul.”

“I know, but you’re tw--significantly older than him.”

“But... but it’s the motherfucker himself.”

“...you can bully him a little, but only because he’s a Sith.”

Fett steals the binoculars. “You can borrow them again when you stop acting like children.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rex says, dry as Ryloth. “I’m ten.”

“Pretty tall for your age,” Ahsoka mutters, and then giggles.

“Don’t steal my jokes,” Rex says. He elbows her, hard.

“You know,” Quinlan says, slow and tired. “Master Tholme and I are trained investigators.”

Ahsoka and Rex look at each other, and then up at him.

“Okay?”

“...do you want me to find actual evidence of this guy doing something criminal?”

“Oh, yes please.”

---------------------------

Quinlan, as it turns out, is not overselling his skills. He does catch Maul doing something illegal later that day. It’s a little more ‘stealing corporate secrets in the dead of night’ and less ‘torturing people for kicks,’ but it’s still enough to legally arrest him. Quinlan attempts to do so.

Quinlan does not succeed, and is forced to jump out a window to avoid getting cut in half. Maul follows, steals a passing speeder by throwing out the driver, and takes off. Someone--looks like Tholme--drops back to save the driver, but the rest of them give chase. Ahsoka gleefully takes point on that, of course. She’s the best pilot.

(Rex looks bored, but someone is likely to puke by the end of the night. She hopes it’s not Leia, who insisted on coming for some fucking reason.)

“How the kriff is a teenager that good?!” Quinlan yells, clinging to the edge of the speeder to avoid getting tipped out as Ahsoka swerves around a corner with a wild laugh.

“He’s a Sith!” Leia shouts over the wind. “What do you think?”

Quinlan is not impressed by the claim of Sith.

Ahsoka screeches as she drifts across four lanes of traffic and into an alleyway to pursue Maul. He’s pretty good at dodging cross-building walkways, but she’s better. She bares her teeth, hissing, and tries to pick a plan.

“Vos, how’s your aim with Force throws?” She calls to the backseat.

“Uh, decent?”

“Great! Fett’s the projectile!”

Vos takes a second longer to process that than Jango does.

“I’m wh--”

He cuts off, screaming, and is flung forward by Quinlan to crash headfirst into a teenage Sith.

“Take the wheel!” Ahsoka commands, not waiting to see who follows the order, because Fett and Maul are both getting to their feet, the other speeder is about to crash, and she’s not sure who’s going to win that fight.

She jumps from the speeder they’ve been violently dragging around Denon, and lands feet-first on Maul’s... shoulder.

Hm.

That definitely dislocated something.

“You should wear armor!” she chirps at him, drawing both sabers and grinning as he whirls to face her, eyes wide with hate.

He’s utterly silent.

That’s disturbing. Expected, but disturbing.

“Did you just throw me?” Fett demands, higher pitched than she’d normally expect.

“No, Vos threw you.”

“Because you told him to!”

“Yeah, it’s a good strategy!”

“It is not!”

“Why not? Throwing people was standard practice in the GAR.”

She can’t see his face, but she’s pretty sure he’s about ready to strangle her.

Ahsoka cannot, at that point, continue snarking with the father of her best friend, because there’s a red lightsaber coming for her throat, and she should probably worry about that. Maul’s very good at killing people and she’d like to avoid becoming part of that statistic.

As she is quickly reminded, he is... fifteen. And shorter than she’s used to. And already injured.

It’s really, really easy to take him out, actually.

At some point, the other speeder was safely recovered before it caused property damage, and their own is landing a few meters away with Vos and the kids.

“You have Force-negating cuffs, right?” Ahsoka asks.

“No, Master Tholme has them.”

“Oh,” she says, and grimaces. “I guess I’ll just... keep sitting on him then.”

Maul snarls, and she raps him on the skull. “Stop that, it’s uncivilized.”

Rex snorts.

Jango makes a noise that is incredibly frustrated with the lot of them, and turns on Rex. “Was she telling the truth?”

“About?”

“Throwing people being standard practice for the GAR.”

Rex’s face goes pained. “It was in the five-oh-first. And a few others.”

“What’s the GAR?” Quinlan asks.

“None of your damn business,” Fett snaps.

Quinlan throws his hands up in the air again. “Come on! I just proved I know what I’m doing!”

“And their tragic backstory is none of your business, prudii!”

Quinlan blinks at him, and then glances at Ahsoka. “Um.”

“He called you a shadow since your training, um, seems to be pointing in that direction,” she says as carefully as she can. “We were theorizing.”

“Wh... you actually paid attention?” Quinlan asks, looking horribly confused. “I thought I was just annoying you.”

Ahsoka laughs at him. “Oh, Vos... I’ve been running black ops for... much longer than most would guess. Trust me, I know another spy when I see them.”

She smiles as kindly as she can, because she hadn’t actually meant to make him feel left out or unwanted or... well, she’d been pretty patronizing, especially for someone seemingly younger than him. The smile does not work. Quinlan just looks kind of horrified about how young she just implied she started spy work.

Granted, she’d been sixteen for Zygerria...

Deciding to ignore him for a bit, she shifts on Maul’s back and pats him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Baby Sith. We’re going to get you lots of nice therapy. Mind healers, no Sith tortures, all that fun stuff. Maybe some plushies.”

“You’re also getting therapy, right?” Quinlan asks. “Please say you are. I’m required for the specifics of my training and if anything you’ve said is true, I feel like you really need it and I’m scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Ahsoka laughs, knowing exactly how empty it sounds. “Oh hell, if I didn’t get therapy, I imagine Kix would rise from the grave to force me into it.”

The name means nothing to anyone except Rex, and... ah, yeah, she told Fett about Kix a few weeks ago.

“No more throwing me without warning,” Fett grumbles, dropping to sit on the ground next to her. “Especially not at baby Sith Lords.”

“I am not a child!” Maul spits.

“He speaks!” Ahsoka cheers. “Aw, I knew you could do it.”

“’Soka, I told you not to bully him,” Rex complains. “It’s tacky. You’re being tacky.”

“I’m allowed to be tacky,” Ahsoka declares. “I’ve died twice, that’s, like, permission from the universe.”

“You’ve died twice?” Quinlan asks, back in ‘fascinated horror’ territory. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t ask--”

“Too late! The first time was on a planet that doesn’t exist and my Master lost his mind, killed a god, and used the good favor of another god to have me brought back to life at her expense. Not in that order.”

“I--what? No, that’s--what?”

Ahsoka smiles brightly. “You asked.”

Tholme finally shows up with the cuffs.

---------------------------

“You should eat something.”

He glares at her.

“Baby Sith Lords need to eat.”

He keeps glaring at her.

“Maul, you’ll never get big and strong and ready to kill if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

He bares his teeth.

“No, I don’t eat my veggies, but I’m a Togruta, so if I eat too many vegetables I throw up.”

Rex kicks her thigh, right on the faulds. “What did I say about bullying the Sith Lord?”

“Not to.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Making him eat his vegetables.”

“Soka.”

“Rex’ika.”

He kicks at her again. “Get up, we’re swapping out the watch.”

“But I wanted to hang out with my favorite little criminal mastermind.”

Rex drops to the floor and presses his forehead to her shoulder. “How the hell is being around this guy the first thing to make you cheer up in weeks?”

“I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

“He’s going to bite you.”

“I’ll bite back.”

Rex jabs a finger into her ribs, and she squeaks. “Go get something to eat, Commander.”

“Fine,” she huffs, rolling to her feet and moseying along to the galley. She walks in on Tholme and Fett having an argument about the ways in which Jedi and Mandalorians differ. Quinlan’s on the side, watching with wide eyes, and little Leia’s drinking a juice box at his side, tucked up under his arm and occasionally saying things to fan the flames. Ahsoka assumes she’s enjoying herself.

She opens the cooling unit, looks over the contents, and pulls out a raw leg of eopie mutton. She leans against the counter, bites into the chilled-but-not-frozen meat, and uses the back of one hand to wipe the blood off her chin. The ‘real adults’ don’t notice.

“I’m like ninety percent sure you’re doing this to mess with me but also...” Quinlan trails off, staring at her with horror. “Why?”

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

“Yeah, but all the obligate carnivores I know are like... generally holding to basic rules of courtesy when it comes to not grossing people out,” Quinlan says. “Like, I don’t chew with my mouth open. You don’t... eat in the most intimidating--did you just crack the bone with your teeth?!”

Ahsoka smirks at him, using her free hand to take away the shard of bone so she can suck out the marrow without eating the bones themselves. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t polite society. We’re in a galley on a bounty hunter’s ship, and I’ve been living on the run or in an army for most of my life. Table manners are optional.”

“No, they’re not,” Leia orders. “Fett, it’s your ship, tell her to--”

“--and another thing!” Fett snaps at Tholme, clearly paying less than no attention to the food argument.

Ahsoka keeps on eating, trying to catch wind of where the discussion’s at. Mostly, it seems to be at ‘talking past each other.’ Neither of them seems to have fully grasped more than the absolute most basic parts of the other culture, and that’s only enough to insult each other, not actually have a constructive conversation. She’d have expected more out of Tholme, at least. He’s not exactly young.

“Hey, quick question,” she says, in a moment where both of them have paused for breath and the opportunity to seethe. “Fett, when’s the last time you worked with a Jedi, or any member of a Force-based religion, before I popped into your life?”

His nose scrunches up as he makes a face.

“And Tholme, when’s the last time you worked with anyone from the Mandalorian system?”

Tholme’s reaction isn’t any more gracious than Fett’s.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says. “Vos, were either of them actually interested in that conversation, or just looking for an excuse to yell?”

“Now listen here, jetiika--”

“Fett,” she snaps. “I am not a child.”

“And neither am I,” he growls right back. “This is my ship, and I damn well don’t need you treating me like a misbehaving youngling. You’ve got a problem, you bring it to my face, not get all smug about people’s tempers blowing over.”

Well, then.

She smiles thinly. “Of course.”

He stands with his arms crossed, in full armor save for the helmet. She puts aside the eopie meat and wipes her hands, smiling until she can put her hands on her hips and let it drop to a challenge.

“You know, I’m just--I’m just gonna go,” Quinlan mutters, pulling Leia out with him, the girl hanging from under one of his arms. “This, uh, this looks like a problem for... you folks. Um. Yeah.”

He sidles out.

Tholme doesn’t.

Fett rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then gestures at the table. “Sit.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

He drops his hand and glares at her. “We have another week on this ship together. We are going to have this conversation. Sit.”

She sits, right on the warm spot left behind by Quinlan and Leia. She crosses her arms, lifts a brow, and waits.

Fett takes the seat across from her. Tholme leans against the counter.

“We all know you’re older than you look,” Fett says. “I heard Tholme mention it, I know that much has been shared. You’re acting like an actual teenager, and I’ve... I’ve put up with a lot. I am trying to keep things civil, particularly with you. I’ve tried to be friendly. You’ve been fucked up since we met, fine, everyone’s got trauma. The thing where you’ve started talking shit to our faces for what seems like your own amusement? That has to stop. You’re older than me, Torrent. Fucking act like it.”

She blinks at him, slow and not exactly happy, and turns to Tholme.

The man shrugs. “I was planning to put up with it until we arrived to the temple and handed you over to some mind healers. Fett doesn’t have that kind of time.”

There’s a curdle in her stomach, defensive and angry and guilty.

“You’ve been... a bitch,” Fett finally says. “You know that. I’m not going to mince words. You’ve been holier-than-thou and rude and condescending, and aiming that at Antilles is one thing, when you’ve apparently known her since she was a toddler and taught her things. Aiming at the rest of us isn’t going to fly. We’re all adults trying to share a space. Stop acting like... just like you have been.”

There is no defense to be made that they aren’t both already aware of.

She closes her eyes and tries to strangle the burst of irrational rage.

Their accusations aren’t unfounded.

They deserve an apology.

She is in the wrong.

She’s felt freer than she had in years, and in that freedom allowed herself too much rein, let herself lace her words with barbed wires and poison instead of sparks and spices, comments that were cruel instead of just joking. Too familiar. Too comfortable.

“My behavior’s been inappropriate,” she finally says, the words clumsy and too big in her mouth. “You’re right about that. I’m sorry, and I’ll endeavor to keep a tighter rein on my less pleasant behaviors in the future.”

At least she only lashes out with words. It could be worse.

She opens her eyes, fixes her gaze on the wall behind Fett, wrestles her expression into stiff neutrality. “Am I dismissed?”

“...uh, no, not after that,” Fett says, sounding just a little horrified. “What the hell was that?”

Tholme hisses out a breath. “Let her go.”

“No, this needs to be discussed, that’s not a healthy rea--”

“Fett, let her go,” Tholme insists, low and heavy.

Fett looks between the two for a moment, seems to come to a realization he doesn’t like, and then gestures almost violently towards the door. “Fine. Go.”

She walks out, doesn’t sprint. She’s stiff. She’s controlled. She’s the one that fucked up, so it’s fine if she doesn’t feel great right now. Getting called out on one’s own failings as a person isn’t something to get upset about if the failings are real. The feelings are real and normal, but this was her fault, and so it’s up to her to fix it, and she can’t let them know it hurt her, because this was her mistake.

She goes to the cargo hold.

---------------------------

Ahsoka works out her frustrations on Fett’s punching bag. She does not augment herself with the Force, just uses raw strength and technique, ignoring the tears that press at her eyes.

She’s fine.

It’s not weird. It’s not odd. It’s not strange to not notice she’s been kind of a bitch since her mood came up with the whole Depa thing, and then Maul. She’s been mean, mostly to Vos and Fett, and nobody’s confronted her about it until now. They let her have room for her trauma, and she hadn’t reined it in. She’s just gotten worse.

‘Snippy’ she’d always been, but age apparently hadn’t fucking tempered it.

“Um.”

She catches the punching bag, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. She hasn’t worked out all the twitchy, nervous energy yet.

“Vos,” she greets, once she’s caught herself enough that her voice won’t waver. He’s on the other side of the bag, but she knows his voice. “Do you need something?”

“You’re kind of... projecting,” he tells her, drifting to where she can actually see him. “Not self-loathing, but, um, recrimination? You just don’t feel very good and I was hoping to help”

Why in all the Sith hells does he have to be nice.

“I got called out on my behavior and wasn’t ready to face the fact that I’d kriffed up,” she tells him. “I’ll be fine. And I’m... sorry. I haven’t been fair to you and was using you as an easy target for some of my ruder comments.”

“I mean, I kind of figured,” he admits, coming closer. “I’ve been tutored by Shadows before, and a lot of them act like you. I just assumed it was more of that.”

“I still shouldn’t have let myself run loose like that,” she says. “I’m... it wasn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she says. “Not with... not with you. Or anyone other than Rex and a mind healer, really. Most of it is...”

She trails off, distantly noticing that her eyes are tearing up enough to blur her vision, and her nails are digging into the bag in a way Fett won’t appreciate.

There’s so much that beat her down, never quite breaking her, that she doesn’t even know what made her act the way she does.

“Want to spar?”

She looks over at him, wonders what he sees that makes him want to fight her when she’s visibly unstable.

He smiles, kind and easy, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s genuine in intent, if not in energy. He wants to help. “You all keep saying I could work on my hand-to-hand. Just take off the armor so I don’t break a finger, maybe.”

“You’re serious.”

“No, I’m Quinlan.”

She’s going to wipe the floor with this boy. “You sure you wanna fight me?”

“You won’t be able to meditate until you do,” he says. He’s right, damn him. “The other option is that I go get your... vod, I think? I go get Rex and you two can talk it out since you trust him with more. I don’t want to do that, though, he’s still a kid.”

She eyes him, lips pressed together and mind awhirl with emotions and thoughts she’d tried to beat out of her head and into the bag. “Ever fought someone without the Force?”

“...yes?”

“Was it cuffs?”

“Oh, you meant me not having the Force,” he realizes. “Er, no. Is... is that something you’ve done a lot?”

She smiles at him. “You’re planning on Shadow work. That means getting captured and stripped of everything you are at some point, Force included. Unfortunately, the cuffs are in use on a very annoying Dathomirian right now, so we’ll have to make do with you shielding like your mind’s a Kessel Spice Mine.”

“...do I want to know how often you’ve been captured?”

“No, you don’t.”

When he comes at her, it’s easy to dodge. It’s easy to tap him on target points, little pokes that show she could take him out, but isn’t going to until he’s learned something. He stays grinning throughout, letting her take the lead, and he treats her like... like a knight. Like a teacher. He’s stepped back and gone from trying to impress her as a fellow padawan, to proving himself to a full knight.

She’s not sure when that change happened, or why or how, but it makes things much smoother. She wants to think that it would have even if she hadn’t gotten a wakeup call from Fett.

So she treats him the way she treated Ezra, for the year she’d spent traveling with Kanan. She treats him as a student that’s willing to learn, good but not yet great, competent but not yet ready to survive. She draws him into the kind of chest-heaving exhaustion that tells a fighter just how much energy they waste.

(Ahsoka may have had her own style, but her grandmaster had been the pinnacle of a Soresu user. She’d spent years on the frontlines of a war. She knew the worth of conserving energy, and she’d teach it to any who stepped in to challenge her.)

“Who taught you to fight like this?” He asks, when they’ve taken a handful of moments to circle each other. His steps are heavy, sure, planted. Her own are light and ready.

“Soldiers,” she says. It’s true enough.

“Not your Master?” he asks, just as he tries to kick for her upper arm. It’s a safe question. For anyone else, it would be a safe question.

But for Ahsoka, it’s another chink in the armor, after a maelstrom of emotion, a storm of self-loathing, a dervish of instability.

She doesn’t break right away.

She spirals. She fights Quinlan, but doesn’t quite see him. Her strikes get sloppy, her feet stumble. She can’t make herself meet Quinlan’s eyes, not when the scrape of his heel against the metal sounds like the rasp of a breathing machine. Her shields get fuzzy, she knows, and she leaks what she feels into the air, making it sour and thick. She doesn’t notice, because all she can see, all she can--all she can hear and feel and--

She drops to her knees and grabs at her head, trying to stop it.

“Sokari?”

She breathes. In and out, harsh and jagged but natural in a way that the damned respirator wasn’t.

Her master her teacher her brother the traitor the hound the executioner

Her face is hot. Something prickles. It might be tears.

She tries to say something, tries to say a name or a request, tries to make anything come out of her mouth that isn’t the broken wail of a woman who hasn’t let herself think about how she died.

She feels herself pulled into someone’s arms, and she can’t quite tell who, but they’re bigger than she is, and feel warm and worried. They care. They don’t understand, they’re scared, but they care.

Her hands shake, clutched to her chest and she can’t breathe she can’t make herself take in enough air to do a Force-damned thing the empire is going to feel her her shields are down and broken and her emotions are spilling and the empire is going to find HER ANAKIN IS GOING TO FIND HER AND--

“COMMANDER!”

Rex.

Rex is here.

Her breath is coming so fast that she’s hiccupping more than she’s actually inhaling. She feels small hands in gloves on either side of her face, and then her forehead presses to something warm.

Rex. A Keldabe kiss. Her brother, her partner, her other half. He’s here. He’s calm. If he’s calm, then things are fine.

“What happened?” Light voice, high voice, small and distant. Leia. Little Leia little princess Leia she’s in danger she’s in trouble Anakin will--

“Commander.”

No. Here and now. She needs to focus on here and now. Her throat feels cold. She breathes too fast, still. She can’t stop it.

“I don’t know.” That’s Vos. He was... they were doing something. He was here. Talking to her. “We were sparring, and she just--”

Right, sparring.

“I don’t know if I said something?” He offers, voice pitching up, unsure and worried. Is he the one holding her? He’s the one holding her. That’s embarrassing.

“Commander?” Rex prompts. “Commander, can you open your eyes?”

She tries. She can’t. She shakes her head.

“Soka?” he asks, voice quiet. “Where are you?”

“F-F-Fett,” she manages. It’s enough.

“And where were you?”

His voice is so soft. So worried. She held him the same way after Mandalore, after Order 66, after all his brothers, all her friends...

“Soka.”

Her mind is spinning, and suddenly all she can hear is Anakin Skywalker is dead. I destroyed him.

Her breath hitches, and she wails.

“Commander,” Rex tries again, but her head is a vortex of Then you will die and Perhaps this child and not the Jedi way.

Our long awaited meeting.

I destroyed him.

Then you will die.

She can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can only see that yellow eye that’s too familiar but belongs to a stranger can only hear a voice that shouldn’t exist can only mourn and break and--

“Soka?”

“Malachor,” she manages. “I--h-he--I died.”

“What did you say?” someone asks. A vod. It’s the right voice, almost, rough and business-like, not accusing anyone yet, and... and... no. No. Not one of her boys. It’s Fett.

“Um, right at the end? I asked her who taught her to fight like this,” Quinlan says, nervous. “And she said it was soldiers. And I joked, I asked that it wasn’t her Master, and she didn’t answer that. A couple minutes later, she just started...”

“Oh, Soka,” Rex whispers, pulling her closer. “Commander, just breathe with me.”

“H-h-he, he just--R-Rex, he j-just--and I c-c-couldn’t--”

“I know,” her captain whispers. “I know, just breathe with me.”

“He k-k-k-killed me,” she sobs, falling out of the Keldabe and into too-small arms. “I l-loved--he was my broth-ther and--and he just--he killed me, he didn’t even stop.”

“I know,” Rex whispers. “Soka, I know.”

Of course he does.

---------------------------

“It was just bad timing,” Rex says, once they’re in the room she’s been sharing with her little family, curled up under a blanket and watching the floor like it has all the secrets to how she lost her world three times over.

“Is there anything we need to keep in mind?” Fett asks, gruff and uncomfortable. She wonders if he’s angry that she took his necessary confrontation and turned it into this mess.

“Don’t bring up her Jedi Master,” Rex says, and pulls her in when she shivers. Her eyes squeeze shut before she can stop them, tears beading up again. “Just... don’t. It’s too soon.”

“He’s--”

“He Fell,” Ahsoka interrupts. “I thought he died, but he became a Sith. And fifteen years later, we ran into each other, and I refused to join him in the Dark, so he tried to kill me.”

Fett swears, low and muffled. She thinks he has a hand over his mouth.

Quin and Leia aren’t there. She thinks they’re keeping an eye on their Baby Sith prisoner. That’s good.

“Soka,” Rex whispers, and she buries her face in his shoulder. She’s too old to be this kind of mess. She’s thirty-two. She’s Fulcrum. She’s...

She’s in need of a lot of therapy.

“We can avoid the subject unless you bring it up,” Tholme promises. “Definitely until the Temple. Is there anything else we shouldn’t talk about?”

Ahsoka can practically feel Rex’s deadpan look. “Sir, we’re a trio of child soldiers ripped from everything we know. Every other sentence is a risk. We’re just... working our way through.”

There’s a knock at the door. Oh. Quin and Leia.

“Just figured we’d drop this off before we went down to visit Mr. Grumpy-Face,” Quinlan whispers. He still thinks Leia’s a child. He’s trying to make things less terrible for her. That’s nice. “We decided he’ll be less angry if he tries Hoth chocolate, and made some for everyone.”

They definitely made it for Ahsoka herself, and Maul was an afterthought. Still. It’s sweet.

“Commander?” Rex prompts, jostling her a little to try and get her to sit up.

“Gimme a sec,” she manages. It takes longer than it should to push herself away from him, to accept the mug that Leia gives her, too-serious worry in the furrow of her brow and the twist of her soul.

She doesn’t look six. She doesn’t even look twenty-two. This girl was always too old for her skin, forced to grow up in the hostile fear of the Empire.

“Thank you, Princess.”

She sips.

She can barely taste it beyond the ashes she imagines coating her tongue.

I destroyed him, her memory echoes. His slightest hesitation before he made the final move, it haunts her. She almost reached him. If only she’d tried harder, yelled louder, been better...

She shivers.

“Do you need help falling asleep?” Tholme asks. “I’m a regular healer, not a mind healer, but...”

She probably should.

She takes another sip of her drink, willing herself to taste it. It’s good. She likes it. She knows she does.

“Can you make it dreamless?” she whispers.

“It doesn’t always work, but I can try,” he tells her.

She nods. “When I finish the chocolate.”

“Of course.”

---------------------------

Everyone’s careful around her for days. The whole decision to be nicer doesn’t mean anything when she’s walking about in a daze of too few emotions, drained of everything she could feel in favor of a grey cloud of fluff in everything she does.

She does forms. Single saber and Jar’kai. Ataru and Djem so and Soresu. Reverse grip, regular grip, partial reverse on either side.

Again. Again. Again.

She loses herself in the motions, not meditating so much as just empty.

Rex worries. Fett worries. Vos worries.

Leia and Tholme keep their shields locked up tight, and she doesn’t know how they feel. She thinks Leia might be judging her. She think Tholme might be pitying.

Maul simply hates. It’s an old and familiar sensation to walk into, and she takes unthinking comfort in his rage. She’s silent instead of snippy, when she plays the role of guard, and they stare at each other in silence. His eyes burn, and she wonders how much he’s heard of her nightmares.

“You need to talk,” Rex tells her, when he finds her with a cold cup of caff, eyes fixed somewhere beyond it all. She lifts her head. “Soka.”

She just stares at him.

He sighs and pulls her into a hug. “Commander, please.”

She can’t.

Ahsoka stares at the wall behind him, resting her chin on his head. Her neck itches under the lek at the back of her head, a little tingle of a feeling that she can’t bring herself to do anything about. The pale light of the galley is sharp against the chipped paint of the metal that surrounds them. It hurts her eyes to look, but it’s not the deep and dark lit only by red--

Then you will die, her memory growls.

She flinches.

“Breathe,” Rex tells her, too-small hands clinging at her back. “Just breathe, ‘Soka.”

She curls in tighter and tries to just breathe.

---------------------------

“Tell me something good.”

Ahsoka blinks. She looks at Leia. She doesn’t have the energy to parse that.

Leia chances a look at Rex, who isn’t leaving Ahsoka’s side any more than he has to, and Fett on the other side. Tholme’s asleep and Quin’s on Baby Sith duty. It’s just people who know, right now.

The little girl across the table, the child senator, the spy, purses her lips and huffs in irritation. “You knew my biological father before he became one of the worst people in the galaxy. Both of you did. Tell me something good about him.”

Good things.

About Anakin.

“You fought a war as a Jedi,” Leia prompts. “Surely you must have done some good things with him, or at least thought you were.”

Did they?

Every mission ended in tragedy or was just a ploy of Palpatine’s. Every saved life was just...

Wait.

“He built Threepio,” she finally says. “Your father wi--I mean, Bail wiped Threepio’s memory after the Empire rose, for your safety, but Anakin was the one who built him.”

Leia sits up, eyes brighter. “I didn’t know that. I... was Artoo involved? Did he build R2D2, or...”

“No,” Rex says, “But Artoo was his favorite astromech, and they always pushed each other into stupid stunts. We risked a hell of a lot to save that droid, more than once, and I didn’t find out until you started working with the Rebellion full-time, but Artoo and Threepio were the witnesses for your bio-parents’ wedding.”

Leia gapes at him. So does Ahsoka. (Fett doesn’t know enough to care.)

Rex grins, and if it looks a little forced, that’s fine. “He had a holo recording. I was one of the few people left that knew about the marriage that might have wanted to see, so Artoo offered. It was... sweet.”

He waits, probably for Ahsoka to add something herself, but she has nothing.

“I think that’s when they swapped droids, since Threepio was more useful to a politician and Artoo did his best work when we set him loose on the enemy.”

“He never changed,” Leia muses. “Did he always swear that much?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka answers, as Rex laughs. “Always. All the binary I learned started with the best swears.”

She tries to think of another good memory, something else that Leia might appreciate. Her mind ticks back to saving Stinky, which is just a terrible option, because that mission started with Hutts and ended with the Battle of Teth. That massive loss of life, all for the son of the creature that had put Leia in chains.

She wonders if she has anything in her memory that doesn’t end in blood and graves.

“Soka.” Rex.

“Hm?”

“Remember that time Fives and Echo got lost in the undercity their first time on leave, and we had to get the General to help us find them?”

She does.

He’s right, that’s a good story.

“Okay, so what you have to understand,” Ahsoka says, already digging the faint details out and dusting them off, “is that these boys were ARC troopers, top-notch, terrifyingly competent once they got through specialty training, and loyal as hell. Echo had memorized the reg manuals front to back, and Fives was... well, Fives ended up being the only person to figure out the chips before they went into action. Point is, the Domino twins were good... eventually. Just like everyone else, though, they started out shiny.”

---------------------------

“Tholme’s hiding something.”

Ahsoka wonders if Leia will just leave if she ignores her enough. Probably not. This was the girl that got kicked out of boarding school for leading a sit-in at age seven. She’s got patience.

“His job requires him to hide a lot of things,” Ahsoka says instead. “Not as many as Vos will have to, eventually, but a lot.”

“He’s hiding something from us,” Leia insists, visibly frustrated that Ahsoka isn’t as upset about this as she is. “Something important.”

The way she says ‘important’ is clumsy and impacted by the missing baby tooth. She can’t say the r. It comes out as ‘im-poh-ten,’ which is adorable, and if Ahsoka comments on it, she’s probably going to get punched by a six-year-old.

“The Force doesn’t care,” Ahsoka says. “I trust his intentions, if not him as a person.”

“If you don’t trust him, then why trust his intentions?”

“Leia, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I trust one and a half people in the galaxy,” Ahsoka points out. “Me not trusting a person isn’t a sign of anything except my paranoia. The only person I trust fully and without reservation is Rex. Even you, I only mostly trust, because my brain starts screaming if I think too hard. That’s why you’re the half.”

“Okay, whatever, paranoia aside,” Leia barrels on, “He should tell us. Whatever it is that he’s hiding, we deserve to know. We’re not children that he can just hide things from for our own good.”

Ahsoka presses her lips together. “Leia. Princess. I know you’re used to holding all the cards--”

“This isn’t about me being a control freak!”

“It is, though,” Ahsoka soothes, and smiles. “Your mother--the bio one--was the same way. You spent years as one of the leaders of the Rebellion, so obviously you’re used to having all the information, and people reporting to you... but Tholme is a Jedi Master. He reports to the Council and the Republic. Do you know how many people I kept secrets from while I was a padawan? We’re an unknown, Leia. They have no proof that we’re on their side, especially since we’re traveling with Fett.”

Leia crosses her arms and glares as hard as she can.

“I’m not going to bother him,” Ahsoka says. “I’ve already had, like, five unrelated mental breakdowns. I’m putting this on hold until we get to the Temple and I can trust that there’s a healer on hand to sedate me or something.”

“You... want to be sedated?”

“Leia, this... really should be obvious, but a Force-Sensitive losing their osik the way I have been isn’t actually safe. I know I broke a weapons rack last week.” Ahsoka gestures vaguely. “If the Jedi Master isn’t telling me something for reasons that might relate to my clear and obvious mental instability, I’m going to assume he’s got a point.”

“So he should tell me or Rex.”

“We’ll be on Coruscant in four days,” Ahsoka soothes. “Just... let it be. They won’t hurt us.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “I don’t have to. The Force leads me in all things, including this.”

Leia isn’t impressed by that, but Leia isn’t impressed by much in the first place.

She strides off in a fit that is, perhaps, more influenced by her six-year-old emotional control than she’d like to admit. Ahsoka lets her. It’s not worth the argument.

It’s only a few minutes later that Fett strides in, takes the seat Leia was just in, and asks, “What would it take for you to teach me how to use a jetii’kad?”

She blinks at him. “You want to learn how to use a lightsaber?”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Viszla.”

“I see.”

She does.

Ahsoka taps her fingers against the table, eyeing him with the kind of interest she copied from Master Kenobi, years ago. Fett doesn’t fidget, but she thinks he might want to. He just looks back, waiting for her judgement.

“You’ll need to justify it,” she finally says. “It’s a significant difference from what you actually did, so I need to know your reasoning for doing it, and your plans for once it’s done.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s step one,” she corrects. She tilts her head, considering. “My standards for you aren’t built in a vacuum, and you know that. Explain to me what you plan to do and how you plan to do it, and if I approve...”

“You’ll help me achieve it.”

“Maybe,” she allows. “A lot of that depends on Rex.”

“I expected as much,” Fett says. “He is... an admittedly large part of the reason.”

“He would be,” she says. She gives the silence a few more seconds to sit awkwardly between them, and then stands up. “I’d guess you’ve been brainstorming already. Do you have it written down or is it mostly just in your head so far?”

“I’m still... debating options, so to speak.”

She grins, and the shape of the predator’s smile, the baring of teeth... that almost makes him step back. She can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Smart man.

“Follow me,” she says, and doesn’t wait for him to stand. She strides out with tooka-light steps, hears the heavy beskar tread behind her, and goes to the cargo hold. Fett’s confusion grows tangibly behind her, especially when she tosses him a wooden quarterstaff. She picks up the other and spins it in one hand.

“You’re going to fight me,” she tells him, stretching and letting the staff help with the process. “And while we fight, you’re going to tell me what your plans for Mandalore are.”

He mimics her, but there’s a frown on his face. “And why staffs?”

“You and I, we’ve only sparred bare-handed,” she says. “I need a feel for how you fight with a weapon anyway. These are a good start.”

“Not the beskad?”

She grins, and the twitch is back. “No. That can wait. We start with the staffs.”

He takes a stance, and she mirrors him. She lets him strike first with a weapon, but she’s the one that asks all the questions.

(He is the only one on the ship that can fight her one-on-one right now, and he can win. Still, she makes him work for every inch, and what she doesn’t win in bruises, she wins in words.)

(Fett might yet be a proper Mand’alor, but Ahsoka learned war from her brothers, negotiation at the knee of a general and in the shadow of a prince, and government at the side of duchesses and queens.)

(If he wants her help uniting his people, he needs to prove that he can hold them together once she’s gone.)

---------------------------

Ahsoka’s interrogation of Jango’s plans is thorough, and she’s not the only one involved. She brings Leia in, and has her join in on the grilling. She maybe laughs as the twenty-seven-year-old survivor of Galidraan, the Mand’alor, a man who has killed Master Jedi with his bare hands, gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly.

Still, Leia knows this better than any of the rest of them do. The girl might have grown up heir to a monarchy, but she got a classical education and was drilled on democracy and all associated forms of government. Where Ahsoka knows military protocol and law enforcement, intersystem relations and defensive measures, Leia knows agricultural subsidies and welfare programs, infrastructure and education.

Ahsoka may know how to find out if someone’s breaking a zoning law, but Leia knows why it exists in the first place.

“And I grew up in a cult,” Rex says, when an argument on that topic breaks out. Everyone that hasn’t heard the joke-that-isn’t-a-joke stares at him. “The Jedi grew up in a religious meritocracy; Leia grew up in a monarchy; and I grew up in a cult.”

Ahsoka elbows him. He’s not wrong, but still.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is about forty-seven percent sure that Leia will put her foot in her mouth when it comes to Mandalorian culture, blunt as the girl is. That prefrontal cortex isn’t anywhere near as developed as it should be, either, so impulse control for the princess isn’t great. Ahsoka refuses to let Leia and Fett talk about ways to mend the breaks between tradition and the pacifism of the New Mandalorians without either Rex or Ahsoka herself as a mediating presence. Tholme sits in a few times, but while he knows that Leia isn’t really six--though not about the time-travel, yet--Quinlan doesn’t.

They admittedly end up doing this while he’s on Maul-sitting duty.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care about making nice with the people that, at this point, make up the majority of his people!” Leia grumbles one night, as Ahsoka kicks over a step stool so the girl can brush her teeth. “He may not like the New Mandalorians, but from what I understand, it’s still early enough to prevent the majority of the cultural bleaching you brought up. If he stays this stubborn--”

“Leia,” Ahsoka says, and the girl’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m aware of your reasons for not trusting his intentions. But if I may say? Chill.”

“He’s not even trying!”

“He’s trying a hell of a lot harder than he did in the original timeline,” Ahsoka reminds her. “Brush your teeth.”

“I’m not a--”

“Teeth.”

It’s a little worrying, how the child’s brain affects Leia, but... well. That’ll pass in time, hopefully. Until then, Ahsoka gets to be the aunt she should have been. This includes tucking Leia in, which the girl grumbles about despite the fond waves of comfort that enter the Force around her. Ahsoka doesn’t call her out on it, just brushes back wisps of hair to plant a kiss on Leia’s forehead, and then does the same once Rex stumbles in, grumbling about the limitations of a cadet’s body, but far more ready to follow the protocol that is bedtime.

Rex doesn’t pretend to not like getting tucked in, for all that he’s sharing with a grumbly, already-asleep princess. He smiles up at Ahsoka, lets her hug him, and pretends they can be a normal family for five seconds.

Quinlan’s making a late night snack for himself in the galley. Tholme is guarding the Baby Sith. Fett...

Ahsoka goes to the cockpit, takes the copilot’s seat, and watches hyperspace pass them by.

It takes long minutes before either of them say anything.

“Do Jedi believe in souls?”

His shields are up, locked up tighter than the innermost chambers of the Imperial Palace. She has no idea where he’s taking this question. She has to cast about for an answer.

“That depends on how you define a soul,” she finally says. “Leia told me about Force Ghosts. A Jedi Master who underwent the right meditations and training could pass into the Force upon their death without losing their sense of self. They could remain themselves, to an extent, and interact with force-sensitive individuals. I don’t know if they could last that way indefinitely, but depending on your definition, I could argue those ghosts were evidence of a form of soul.”

“So you believe that the dead pass into the Force, but that what passes could be a soul. Something must exist for a sense of self to disappear at death in a way that impacts the Force as you understand it, and many would use the word ‘soul’ for that something.”

“Mm,” Ahsoka considers it. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“What about those not yet born?”

Her fingers feel cold, and she finds herself no longer able to watch the passage of hyperspace as passively as she had, and her eyes catch on streaks and motes of what is not dust, her vision unable to keep any more still than her heart.

“Oh,” she hears herself say. “The clones.”

It’s a long time before he answers, but the walls come down. He carries a confused sort of grief with him, guilty and a mite resentful. His questions have been building for longer than she’d thought. His voice is rough. “I’ve taken plenty of lives, but I’ve never known the name of someone I erased from existence before they were even born.”

“The stories we told Leia about the brothers.”

There’s a grunt of agreement from Fett, so those dots at least connect.

“I take it my answer wasn’t helpful,” she manages to say.

“Will they still exist?” Fett asks. “Will they be born elsewhere? Or is... is a soul something that only comes into existence after the body does?”

“I have no idea,” Ahsoka admits. “I want... I want to think that I’d be able to find them eventually, to recognize them, if their souls are still born into this world elsewhere.”

“And if your Sith finds someone else to build his army out of?”

Ahsoka looks at him, sharp and pointed. “You wouldn’t.”

“They’ll be doing it anyway, if their plans are as ironclad as you say.”

“You’re already associating with Jedi,” Ahsoka says, fighting the urge to break his nose. “They wouldn’t approach you, not now. They can’t leverage your anger against you. They won’t know everything, but they’ll know that you have friends among the Jedi.”

“You think they can’t come up with better lies?”

He has a point. He has more than one point and she hate hate hates it.

A Jedi does not hate.

I am no Jedi.

“You’re going to have to convince me,” she says. “Especially if you want to somehow balance this with the darksaber thing. I won’t teach you how to fight with it if you’re not planning to retake Mandalore.”

“That’s how they’d sell it,” he says. “Retaking Mandalore. An army ostensibly for the Jedi, and ultimately...”

“You’d build an army of slaves.”

“No, I’d be the inside man for when they build that army anyway.”

She holds his gaze. She looks away first.

“Torrent?”

“I’m thinking.”

He lets her.

“I’ll need to talk to Rex. Probably Leia.”

“Understandable.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m only just considering it. It’s an idea, not a plan.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t ripped your throat out with my teeth.”

“Hyperbole doesn’t suit you.”

She glares at him, and leaves, her mind chopping up and laying out every possible angle on Fett volunteering to do the exact same thing as last time, but somehow worse.

Great. Just what she needed.

---------------------------

Ahsoka isn’t there for the shouting match between Rex and Fett, but she doesn’t have to be. She can hear it form clear across the ship, and Rex comes to her afterwars. He’s been crying, which isn’t as surprising as it could be. These bodies are still prone to such things, and will be for years. She doesn’t comment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“We need to take out Sidious before he starts anything on Kamino.”

“Agreed,” she says. “It’ll be hard, though.”

“I don’t care.”

“What did Fett say?”

“That if it wasn’t going to be my brothers, it would be someone else’s. Either we stopped the cloning from happening at all, or we mitigated damage by being there.”

“I don’t think Sidious is going to tap him for it,” Ahsoka admits. “Not unless you’re willing to stage that kind of fight publicly enough for Fett to claim the Jedi poisoned you, family, against him. It could work, but it’s a gamble.”

He knows all of this.

“I miss them,” he says, and she cards her fingers though the curls he’s managed to grow in the past weeks. “I just... even at the end, I had Wolffe. I knew Boba was out there; I wouldn’t be surprised if the beskar let him survive a Sarlacc. I had brothers. Not as many as I used to, but there was always someone. I miss them all, so much it hurts.”

“It wouldn’t be them,” she reminds him. She pulls him closer, puts her cheek to his head. “It would be the same process, the same faces, the same training, even, but the boys themselves...”

He clings to her and shudders.

“Rex?”

“I can’t force them to grow up the way I did. I want them back. Sidious is going to make the army no matter what. Someone’s going to suffer, and I don’t want it to be my brothers, but they won’t exist otherwise, and...”

“And it’s an impossible choice,” she summarizes. “And it sucks.”

“It’s sucks Gungan balls, ‘Soka.”

She laughs, and feels him smile against her shoulder. Good. He needs to smile more.

“He’s still trying to get me to like him,” Rex says. "He’s still making an effort, and he never did that for anyone except Boba, and it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

“Gain a brother,” Ahsoka whispers, and she feels him jerk against her. “If that’s what you want.”

“He’s not vod.”

“Same blood as all the rest, and you’re older than him, so he’s not really in a position to be a parent to you like he was to Boba,” she says carefully. “You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to, but... I think he’s trying. I think this means a lot to him, and that he isn’t any more sure of what to do than you are. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did in the future, you don’t have to accept when he reaches out, you don’t have to ever talk to him again after we reach Coruscant if you don’t want, but I think... I think it’s worth at least considering what you have to gain. I think it’s worth looking at what he’s trying to give you.”

Rex huffs. “Why couldn’t he just be the shabuir I knew in training?”

“Something happened between now and then?” she offers. “I don’t know. I never met him in the original timeline. I just know the guy that keeps trying to get on my good side so you’ll like him.”

He outright scoffs. “Soka, that’s not the only reason he’s trying to get on your good side.”

“...I’m a former Jedi who talks trash to his face,” she says slowly. “And I cried on him. There is no reason for him to be nice to me, other than you.”

“He thinks you’re cool and a good person and wants you to be his friend.”

“Bantha poodoo.”

Rex grins in a way that goes straight to smirking. “Soka, I’m not joking. Jango Fett wants you to be his friend.”

“Kriffing why?” she asks, more than a little horrified. “I’m a mess, look like I’m ten years younger than him, have gleefully kicked his ass in front of an audience; I even told Vos to throw him at a baby Sith Lord. Putting up with me is one thing, but I’m... I’m only barely not a Jedi. I’m a historical enemy of Mandalore, and part of the community he hates more than anything, and--”

“And his reaction to you kicking his ass was pure Mando,” Rex says. “In that he now thinks you’re a badass, and thus worth being friends with.”

“I can’t believe that. I physically cannot.”

“Soka, just accept it. The Mand’alor wants to be friends with you.” He scratches at his scalp. “I mean, he met you while you were protecting what appeared to be children, and it’s apparently still early enough for him to care about that.”

She leans back in her seat, eyes on the wall ahead of her and back against the cool metal of the other side. Rex falls back with her. She wonders if Rex changed the subject so they didn’t have to talk about deciding how many of his brothers get to exist, and whether or not he can swallow the bitterness of his history to have a connection with at least one member of his blood. She doesn’t ask. If he wants to change the subject, that’s his right.

“I don’t... no.” She denies it as well as she can, and then the implications dig a little deeper. “Is this me accidentally signing up to be the Jedi Order’s official liaison to the Mand’alor?”

“I mean, this point in time... they’ve got Kenobi for the Duchess, yeah?” Rex shrugs. “Good relations with the system are probably a good thing, and you’ve got a stronger connection than Tholme and Vos.”

“Ugh,” she says. She rubs a hand against her head, and then lurches to her feet. “Fine! Fine. If it’ll get him to retake Mandalore before the Sith decide to bribe him with an army he doesn’t get to keep, I’ll teach him how to fight for the kriffin’ Darksaber.”

“That’s what makes the decision for you?”

“Well something had to!”

They only get one lesson in before Coruscant, but the lesson lasts a full day, and Ahsoka’s got his comm number. Fett’s a quick learner anyway, and Tholme was there to give pointers where Ahsoka couldn’t.

He won’t measure up to a Jedi in saber-to-saber combat, but he doesn’t need to. He just needs to learn enough to turn all those skills with a beskad to something that works with a jetii’kad.

(The balance of a saber is wrong to those used to a physical weapon. The inertia doesn’t work the way anyone expects. There’s no need to worry about damaging the blade.)

(Fett is good. Ahsoka is better. And, bless his heart, he knows it.)

(She will mold him into the shape of someone who not only can, but should rule a system with a history like that, and he damn well knows that too.)

---------------------------

“Dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus twenty seconds.”

The Slave I is not, in fact, a Venator-class starship, or anything else near the size and smoothness of the ships that Ahsoka grew up on. This is a bounty hunter’s vessel, and the drop to real space jolts like nothing else. Ahsoka’s in the copilot seat for the return, but Tholme’s going to swap with her as soon as they’ve got confirmation that there were no problems with exiting hyperspace, and nobody’s shooting at them.

“We’re not going to get shot at,” Tholme had assured her.

“I always get shot at,” she’d told him.

“I have our clearance,” he reminded her, seeming more amused than frustrated. “There’s no need to worry about getting shot at.”

“I also always get shot at,” Jango had thrown in.

“Okay,” Tholme had allowed, after several minutes of his trust in the Temple warring against Ahsoka and Jango’s learned paranoia. The looks Quinlan had darted around the room when Leia and Rex also claimed ‘chronic getting-shot-at disease’ had been a treat. The paranoia of a Watchman and a future Shadow was great, but the paranoia of three revolutionaries and a galaxy-wide criminal was greater. “You can take us in close enough to get in radio contact, but the second we have to ask for clearance and a vector, I’m in the seat.”

She’d agreed, of course. She was paranoid, not inexperienced.

“We’re much less likely to get shot down by ground control if you tell them we’re with you,” she’d said, to his hilariously apparent metaphysical exhaustion. “Obviously.”

“Good enough,” he’d sighed.

What that means is mostly just that Ahsoka gets to watch the distant star at the center of Coruscant’s system grow rapidly brighter. She can pick out the constellations she’d grown up with, the stars the creche had projected on the ceiling every night, the ones that she may not have seen from the surface, but had greeted her and then sent her on her way every time she left on yet another campaign that lost her men their lives for a Sith Lord's wretched plans. These were the shapes and stories she’d never seen again as Fulcrum, a woman so hunted that to come within a dozen subsectors of the planet was to court her death.

For sixteen years, she hadn’t ventured closer than Alderaan, save for a single trip to Chandrila.

And now, maybe twenty minutes away at this speed, was the Temple. It was home.

A home that didn’t know her, that had sentenced her to death, that had hosted the rampage of her former master... but home nonetheless.

“Stable?” Fett grunts.

“Thrusters are good,” she confirms.

“I meant you.”

Ah. “I’m... fine. As good as I could be, anyway.”

She hesitates, but manages to speak before he does. “You?”

“I’m not the one walking into an entire building of triggers.”

“Only because you’re not entering it,” she says. “It’s the home of your ancestral enemies who, bad info or no, killed off a whole lot of your friends.”

“I get to leave,” he says. “You don’t.”

She plans to needle him a bit more, maybe on something a little less based in both their traumas. She needs to talk, if only to fill up the silence and keep herself from reaching out to all the lights in the Force. It’ll be too much, she knows.

Tholme enters the cockpit. “Change of plans.”

“Better be a good reason,” Jango says, voice flat.

“Leia’s crying.”

Ahsoka’s unbuckling herself before she can process the words fully. “What?”

Leia doesn’t cry for no reason. Her emotional control is as difficult as the body makes it, but she doesn’t just cry. There’s always a cause.

“I don’t know. Rex said to get you,” Tholme explains. “She was saying a name. He seemed to recognize it.”

Not good not good not good. If Leia was feeling the Emper--No. She cuts the thought off there. No catastrophizing. Information first.

“What name.”

“Luke. Mean anything to--and she’s gone.”

Ahsoka ignores him, just sprints to where she knows the ‘young ones’ are. They’re all in Maul’s room, because nobody wants to be alone with him now, but it’s the worst time to leave him without supervision. It’s not the worst option; he mostly refuses to talk, still.

This holds true, because he definitely isn’t talking when she bursts in. He’s sitting on the bench, in a corner, hugging his knees and watching Quinlan try to calm Leia down.

“Captain, sitrep.”

“Vos and Tholme attempted to show Leia how to reach out to feel the Temple from a distance. They felt that it would be a good use of the time, and an interesting exercise at this distance. She attempted to do so, struggled for several minutes, and then reacted with shock. She has repeated the name ‘Luke’ several times since then, and we’ve been unable to fully calm her down. I asked Tholme to get you, as you are the only Force-Sensitive on board that understands the situation in full.”

“Understood.” She nods to him, and then goes to nudge at Quinlan. “Vos, move.”

“Torre--”

“You can sit behind her, hold her in your lap like you did when we had lunch the other day, but I need to get in her face.” She waits for him to comply, and then drops to her knees and takes Leia’s hands in her own. She radiates calm and assurance, even though she knows Quinlan’s probably been doing the same since this started. She dips her head enough to get in the girl’s line of sight, waits for her to meet eyes.

“Princess,” she says, and meets Leia’s eyes. “What did you feel?”

“Luke.”

From this distance... they’ve got half the system to go, at least, and Leia’s training shouldn’t reach that far for anything more than the fact that the Temple is there. Ahsoka could feel unshielded individuals from here, if she focused, but she’s also been doing this much, much longer. The twins theory holds more water than ever.

“Can you show me?” Ahsoka asks, instead of asking for more clarification. She squeezes Leia’s hands and smiles. “In the Force?”

Leia nods, and closes her eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s the first time in a while that Leia’s needed Ahsoka to guide her through.

Luke’s light, for all that it’s unfamiliar to Ahsoka, is brilliant among the rest of the signatures in Coruscant. Like Anakin and Leia, he’s a star in his own right, but he’s brighter. He doesn’t have Anakin’s bitterness or Leia’s righteous anger, just... light. Ahsoka had asked Leia to show her instead of looking for herself because she’d expected to not recognize the boy, but she needn’t have. He’s unmistakable.

He’s so bright that she almost misses the other signature that she does recognize. She shies away, knowing that it would be there, but... but it’s almost twinned with another nearby. Not identical, but different in a way that comes with age, with trauma, with... death.

Leia hadn’t arrived alone, after all.

Why would Luke?

Her eyes snap open, her hand coming up not-quite-fast enough to clap over her mouth as she gasps. She feels a shudder, one that starts in her shoulders and reaches deep into her ribcage, finds a home in her chest and doesn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” Quinlan whispers. “Torrent? Um, Sokari?”

Rex steps closer. “Commander?”

“That shabuir faked his death again,” she manages. “Three times, Rex!”

He blinks at her. “...I know way too many people who fit that description, Soka.”

“Master Ke--” she cuts herself off. He might have changed his name, just like she had. There’s already an Obi-Wan here. Rex seems to be figuring it out, but she needs to give him another hint.

“He pulled a Hardeen,” she stresses, and Rex’s eyes snap shut with a tired groan.

“Who?” Leia asks, her own tumult of emotion paused in the wake of Ahsoka’s shock. There’s a hope and relief to her, and Ahsoka belatedly realizes that her main worry had been that she’d misidentified what was going on, that she’d given herself a false hope. Ahsoka’s internal reaction, her approval and awe at Luke’s presence, had trickled over enough to give Leia the reassurance she’d needed.

Unintentional as it was, Ahsoka was glad that she’d succeeded in helping her charge.

“Er...” she trails off. “I don’t know what name he’s going by, right now. We’ve spent so long in hiding...”

“The man Luke knew as Crazy Old Ben,” Rex says, and Leia’s eyes light up.

“Oh,” she breathes. “General O--no, names. The High General, then.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka says, not a little soft. “Yeah, I guess death didn’t stop him any more than it stopped me.”

“I could have told you that,” Leia says, smiling far too widely. She squirms where she still sits on Quinlan’s lap. “He was... he taught you, right?”

“As much my master as the official one,” Ahsoka says. She glances as Quinlan, feels Maul’s gaze on the back of her head. “Your f... my official master was very young when I was assigned to him. He wasn’t ready to teach, wasn’t even ready to be a knight, entirely, so my training was split between him and his master.”

Quinlan pops in at that moment, “Your grandmaster was military, too?”

We all were, she thinks. Even you, in your own way.

“I landed in their care mid-battle,” she says carefully. “It was a complicated situation.”

He nods, and she vaguely notes that he’s got his arms wrapped around Leia, and his chin tucked on top of her head. She isn’t sure if Leia’s noticed, but Quinlan’s picked up ‘baby’-sitting duty so often recently that she’s fairly certain he’s all but declared her ‘little-sister shaped.’ It doesn’t matter that Leia’s older--she’s still taking the juice boxes and gummy snacks that Quinlan shoves at her every single snacktime.

“Do you think...” Rex trails off, something uncomfortable twisting in the Force, even though his face keeps it mostly hidden. “My brothers. If the General survived and... and made it back...”

“I didn’t feel any,” Ahsoka says, because she knows she’d have noticed if it was anyone she’d met, and likely any clone at all. They all felt different in the Force, but they all held a spark that made her know it was one of them. “I’m sorry, Rex’ika.”

“A long shot,” he says, that dash of hope shriveling up. He must see something in her face, because there’s a curl of warmth in him, even if his smile is brittle. “It’s fine, really. I have you, ‘Soka.”

Rex and Ahsoka. Two halves of one whole.

She can’t wait to hear the lectures on attachment, the way people who haven’t seen her wars try to criticize her for clinging to any chance at still having a will to live. She can’t wait to see them justify telling her that it’s selfish to hold her sanity in her hands and refuse to let the grief take it away. She can’t wait to stare someone down for asking her to ‘learn to let go’ after she’s lost her family, her life, her universe three times over.

Most of the Jedi are more sensible than that, are reasonable enough to see those shades of grey and how to approach rules in the spirit they are meant instead of the rigid letter, but there will be some.

There will be more than enough telling her she is wrong to hold her oldest, closest, best friend as dear as she can.

Attachment, they’ll say.

What they’ll mean is ‘codepedence.’

They won’t be entirely wrong.

She reaches out for him, lets him fall into her side and stay there, closes her eyes and reaches out for the man she’d long called father, when they’d still been in each other’s lives.

This time, past the deafening flare of surprise-love-hope of the little star next to him, she can feel him reach back.

---------------------------

The second the ship has landed, even before Tholme and Fett are done with the checks, Ahsoka’s waiting at the exit. She strains her hearing so she’ll know the second the system will let her open the massive door of the cargo hold.

Leia clings to her side, and the boys stand to her back.

Quinlan’s stressed enough that she can feel it like a cloud. She is very much not trying to feel that stress. Quinlan’s stress levels, back where he’s got Maul so he can keep an eye on Ahsoka and the Baby Sith at the same time, are so low on her priorities list that it’s a a little sad.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to punch the button and open the damn door.

It opens slowly. She bounces on her toes, because there’s a beacon of light and a steady, familiar glow on the other side, and she’s so, so close. She can’t see through the crack yet, because it’s day in this part of Coruscant, and the sunlight is blinding against the dark of the hold. So close. She’s so close.

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

Fett? Fett. He’s already here to get off? This door’s slow.

She doesn’t answer him, because the door is finally open enough to let her out, and she leaps through the gap.

She lands on a pourstone floor, feels pebbles and grit compress under her boots, frantically looks around as her eyes adjust to light and--

The High General, the Negotiator, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking just as he did when she first met him, if a little less armored and a little more fed. The hair, the beard, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. His spirit is a little older, his smile a little more strained, his posture a little more tired, but it’s him.

He spreads his arms, low enough that she could have dismissed it if she’d cared less for hugs, except she’s almost as small as she was when they met.

And every other hug she’d given back then had been, functionally, her being a living missile aiming her montrals for someone’s organs.

She’s a little more aware of how to avoid stabbing her friends in the intestine now.

“Master!”

She sprints for him, collides and sobs, feels him stumble back and then sink to his knees on the too-hard floor, and can feel the tears pouring out of her already. Her breath hitches, and she wails like a child, and that last part of her that couldn’t even grasp at safety shreds itself. His arms are tight around her, warm and strong and Master Kenobi don’t you dare leave again.

It doesn’t matter that Sidious is out there, that the Republic’s been building towards war for a century, that even now someone’s kicking up the Trade Federation. Her dad is here.

“I’ve missed you too, my dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, the bristles of his beard scratching along the skin of her forehead. Off to the side, the binary suns that are Luke and Leia grow brighter in proximity, so bright she can barely bear it.

(“Fett, why the kriff are you reaching for your blaster?!”)

(“Torrent said her master tried to kill her.”)

(“Different guy, that was a different guy, put the blaster away.”)

(“You could have just warned me.”)

(“I didn’t expect you to go for a shot on sight!”)

(”Calm down, Jetiika, if I was going to shoot on sight, we’d already be in a firefight.”)

She ignores everything.

“If you fake your death one more time, I swear I’m going to kill you myself.”

He tries to pull away to talk to her more directly. She does not let him. He apparently resigns himself to this, because he just adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls her in closer.

“In my defense, I was far from the only one presumed dead that took advantage of that status, by the end,” he says, letting her slump into his lap and cry herself dry. “I’m proud of you. You know that, I hope.”

She nods against his chest, smearing tears and snot across the linen and wool. She doesn’t care that they’ll need a thorough washing. She can have her public breakdown and it’s fine because Master Kenobi is here.

He doesn’t even know what she’s spent the past fifteen years doing. Luke wouldn’t have known. He doesn’t know she’s thirty-two and broken, beyond a shadow and cut down by her own master. There’s so much he doesn’t know but the Force rings with the truth of it: he’s proud of her anyway.

“I’m going by Ben, now,” he mutters against her montral. “There’s already an Obi-Wan here, after all. Still, I remain a Kenobi.”

She can’t make the words come out of her mouth. She’s overwhelmed, so much so that speech is a mite bit beyond her.

Sokari Torrent, she presses along the frayed bond that’s knitting itself back to life with every breath they take. Leia was already calling me Auntie Soka, and Rex and I both took Torrent, for...

“For the men you lost,” he mutters. “Yes, that’s fitting.”

He smells like sapir tea and a spiced beard oil.

There’s a whirl of activity about her, greetings and ‘a Sith apprentice?’ and introductions. She distantly notes when Fett almost shoots Dooku before Rex shuts that down and advises the Master to leave the area before things spiral out of control. She feels Ben stand, and she stands with him, clings to his side like a child and trusts that whatever happens, whatever needs to happen, he’ll take care of it until she can stand on her own two feet without swaying.

Rex grabs her free hand, and she feels herself settle back into her skin, bit by bit.

She’s back at the Temple. The twins are safe. Her grandmaster is here. She has her other half.

They can save the galaxy this time.

She’s alive she’s home she’s okay.

She’s okay.

Everything’s going to be okay.

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jotatetsuken · 2 years

Text

He Left Too Early (Tetsurō Kuroo x Reader)

Summary: You had a good friend that you'd lost touch with for years on end, and you receive one call about that friend that you were not able to process at all, at least by yourself. You knew that you needed to call someone that would be able to comfort you the most and that someone would be Tetsuro Kuroo.

Warning: Reader's going through an angsty situation (friend's death), there will be fluff, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks and crying. Please lmk if I've missed any other trigger warnings. You can block #shyna angst if it gets too much.

Shyna's Seiyuu Birthday Celebration

Number of words: 1482

Tagging: @akaashi-todorki @cuz-like-why-not @quirrrky @mrskenmakozume @ohtobiors @hyeque @jordyn-degas

Let me know here if you want to be tagged in more content like this :)

A/N: The Seiyuu birthday celebration week is still going on, but, when I wanted to post about Kuroo, it was kind of hard to think about what to write actually. I mean, he may not be my first Haikyuu crush but he definitely was someone that helped me get over a lot of pain from my previous relationships, and reading certain fanfics and headcanons made me fall in love with him, more, to a point where I'd ended up writing my first ever fanfic, dedicated to him. Last year, I'd learned that a good friend of mine passed away from a heart attack and he was 24. I didn't know how else to grieve, I cried and sobbed, and then, this story comes out. So, to be told that I was jumping on the I love Kuroo bandwagon just to copy someone, discredits the personal experience I underwent in loving him and it hurts (long story lol). Anyway, I miss you VT. You left too early. Also, anything related to Haikyuu (the character, the setup) belongs to Haruichi Furudate but the storyline is mine, so reblogs, likes, and comments are highly appreciated <3 This was cross posted from Quotev (attached the link too 😄)

Barbara: Hey.

Y/N: Oh, hey. What’s up?

Barbara: I don’t know if you heard about Victor?

When someone mentions the phrase, “I don’t know if you heard,” I feel a big sense of numbness in my chest. Because of course, there’s a negative connotation to it. And here, Barbara’s talking about Victor Tyler. My junior in school. Someone I’d called my younger brother. He’d been there through my tough times in high school and had never left my side even when people avoided me. I tried as much as I could to be there for him. In fact, it was him through which I got to know Barbara Boyd, another junior. She was kind and so was he. Their eyes were so full of life and joy that they’d inspire me to keep going in life. I’d last met Victor 4 years ago in a café to catch up with him. He seemed excited about what was coming in the future. I wish I could’ve been there for him more often. But life got busier. Wait? Why am I overthinking again? Surely, it’s because he’s getting married or something…did he?

Y/N: Wait. What happened to him?

No reply. Okay. Something is wrong.

Y/N: Barbara. Tell me. Barbara.

Barbara: He passed away. Last night.

Silence. All I could hear was silence. My ‘baby brother’ was gone. Guilt was seeping in, so was disbelief. This cannot happen. Wasn't he online just a couple of hours ago? I wasn’t in touch with him for so long. I wish I was. No, this can’t be happening. Surely this is a joke.

Y/N: Wait. How?! What happened!!?

Barbara: Cardiac arrest.

My brain couldn’t process anything. Guilt was starting to dwell and sadness was trying to find its way in. I needed to know what had happened. Barbara later called to explain the situation and what had happened. She was told that his heart had given away at night. He’d had heart issues for quite some time when he was a kid. (And I barely knew about this, although I could see him struggling with physical exertion even at a young age.) He even underwent surgery and he was slowly recovering. What was more irksome is that he was finally happy in every aspect. He seemed to be settling down in every way. But, he wouldn’t get to experience his happy ending ever. Why is life sometimes so unfair? Barbara had found out through a friend who posted a story on social media and that's when I was slowly starting to come to terms with it. I wanted to be strong for Barbara, so I tried holding my tears. But later on, after hanging up, I immediately called Kuroo ‘cause I needed to hear his voice.

The Tetsurō Kuroo. Yeah, the Nekoma High Volleyball Team captain. Although we’d graduated from different schools and started working in different places, it was quite recently that we started dating. We were getting serious. I was able to share stories about my life and he, about his. We'd experienced a roller coaster of emotions together. And while as a friend and a boyfriend he could get really cheeky with his sense of humor, he always provided a space for me to be vulnerable with him, and he’d not hesitate to be vulnerable with me. Hence, for this moment, I needed to hear him. I was trying to process it all, but I couldn’t do it alone. I needed him.

Kuroo: “Hey, kitten. What’s up, everything okay?”

Y/N: “Hey babe, remember I once told you of a close friend from school who was like a younger brother?”

Kuroo: “Oh, yeah. Victor was it?”

Y/N: “Yes, babe. Umm…he...he passed away.”

I could hear a gasp and some sniffles from the other side. Kuroo didn’t know Victor, but he knew my adoration for that boy, and I could tell he was crying. For me. Because I wasn’t able to. I could also hear some noises in the background. Traffic maybe?

“Kitten,” he sniffs, "are you at home?”

“Um, yes. Why?”

“Okay, I'm driving to your place now. Look out from your balcony, in about 10 seconds.”

“Huh-“ I could see in a couple of seconds, that he was there in his car waiting for me to sit next to him. I locked all my bedroom doors except the balcony one and found a way to sneak out and sit on the shotgun seat of his car. It's not that my parents were strict or anything. On the contrary, they were the best support system I could've asked for. However, it was weird that the environment I was in made me feel claustrophobic like I needed air to breathe. So, no sooner than I got to sit in his car than we drove around for some time, stopping at a beach nearby in the night because he knew how much I like the sound of waves.

The car ride was filled with silence mixed with some calming music in the background. Kuroo, initially being his introverted self, was aware of how everyone acted around him and as soon as he came out of his shell, he made it a point to stay attuned to people's emotions, so that he wouldn't lose touch with who he was. This was what made me fall in love with him.

We parked the car close to the beach. The sound of waves crashing onto the rocks seemed to have a calming effect on me. I looked into Tetsuro’s eyes and there didn’t seem to be any light in them like he always did. They seemed blank, staring into nothingness, but he had to steel himself up for me. His small, warm smile then sent me to tears, as if he was telling me it’s okay to cry. Dang you, Tetsurō Kuroo. He hugged my disheveled self and kept my face on his chest so that I could bury myself in it.

“Babe,” I start to vent out, “he was just a kid. He left this world too early. He didn’t have to die of an effing cardiac arrest. He was..*sniff* so *sniff* young…oh baby, this is so not fair. I wish I could tell him how much I loved him. But all I can say is that I miss him and I’m sorry that I wasn’t in touch with him...I..I..I didn't know he had a girlfriend until *sniff* the day he died. How am I supposed to *sniff* encourage her *sniff* when I am unable to *sniff* come to terms with it *sniff*...I...I.."

“I know, babe. I know. Kitten, I have a feeling he knows even if he’s not here in the world right now. My love, I’m sorry for the pain you’re in. This, however, doesn’t change the fact that there have been instances where you’ve made an impact in his life and he’s made an impact in yours. Focus on that moments. Make him proud. Don’t just tell your baby brother you love and miss him, show him. He’ll receive the message. And as for his girlfriend, if you know her, which you probably do,” Kuroo smiled again as he patted my head with his hand, lifted it, and said, "I know that you'll find a way to comfort her even if she doesn't see it that way. You've experienced loss before, and you will again, but these experiences should make you stronger and help people in need." He brought my face close to him, kissed me on my forehead, and then kissed me on my lips. It was a kiss of sincerity, of protection, of pure love. Something which I was craving for right now. He then hugged me, letting me bury my face in his chest again, as Fix You by Coldplay was playing in the stereo of his car.

“I’ll try, love. I’ll try. Hope you’ll be proud of me, Victor. Someday.”

Victor was one of the boys who knew about my struggles with relationships and I was waiting to tell him about Kuroo, but he was gone. He’d have been proud to know that there was finally someone to be my equal. And the girl that Victor left behind? I can’t imagine what’s going through Hannah’s head and heart. I knew her in school as well, and if I’d get to meet her, I’d offer her a hug and assure her that he’s with her wherever he is. A friend of mine told me this, "There is no right or wrong way to grieve, there's no timeline for grief, and it looks different from day to day." So, I'd tell her to take time to grieve as much as she needs to and I'd offer to be there for her whenever she needed something. That’s the only way she can cope. That’s the only way we can cope. By being there for each other.

#shyna angst #tetsurou kuroo #tetsuna #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fluff #haikyuu x reader #musings of an extrovert #shyna's seiyuu birthday celebration #coping mechanism #Spotify

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demonsandmischief · 3 years

Text

Keep Me Safe

A Bucky Barnes Story

Bucky Barnes x OC Character

2K Words

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, Mention of Body Weight, Past Abuse/Trauma

General disclaimers before you read: This is not an imagine. Also, I'm not a doctor, but I do my best to make things as accurate as possible. Please take into account the trigger warnings. I imagine this after TFATWS events just because I feel like that Bucky has finally found himself enough to actually have a relationship. It doesn't contain any spoilers, but it may later on.

----

Bucky already has enough to deal with, but adding Mia to the mix might not be so bad.

----

"You're the only one who hasn't tried," Sam Wilson whispered adamantly.

"No," Bucky Barnes shook his head. "That's a bad idea, Sam, and you know it."

"Listen, you're the only one who could possibly understand what she's been through. At least try."

Bucky sighed. Damn Wilson for being so convincing and good with words. He glanced into the hospital room, seeing the pale girl hooked helplessly to the chirpy machinery. He cringed. He hated it all.

There was no telling what the girl had been through. She had been found while Sam was on a mission, and she continued to panic every single time someone entered the room. Nurses had to give her a mild sedative just to tend to her injuries.

Bucky had avoided the place like the plague. He wanted no part, but Sam was his friend, his only one at that, and he asked for his help, hoping he could relate to the girl in some way.

He entered the room, glancing back at Sam skeptically as nothing happened, but just like with the others, the frail girl woke up with a terrified gasp. Her chest heaved as she pulled at the wires, desperate to free herself, until she saw him.

She stilled at the sight of him, and Bucky couldn't help but approach curiously. She had the most stunning eyes, wide and painful. He couldn't imagine what they had seen.

"Easy," he murmured, holding his gloves hands out in front of him in a calming gesture. He was sure he could hear her heartheat with how frightened she was. "My name is Bucky. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

He glanced back towards the door at Sam who was just out of view.

He eased himself in the chair by the girl's bed. She calmed significantly when his height wasn't as threatening.

She glanced at the glass of water, and at Bucky cautiously. He could tell she was in pain. He didn't know the extent of her injuries, but she had definitely exerted herself when she panicked.

He shifted to pick up the glass and she tensed. "I'm just helping," he whispered. "Here."

She attempted to take it from his grasp, but her shaking hands didn't have the grip, so he held the straw to her lips.

There was something about this girl. Something he couldn't put his finger on.

"I'm Mia," she said after a moment.

Bucky couldn't control the soft smile that pulled at his lips at the sound of her voice. The reaction was odd, something he had never felt.

At that moment, two nurses and a doctor knocked on the door, and entered without saying anything. Mia immediately began to freak out and he was not having it. For some reason, it pissed him off that they barged in on their moment.

"Bucky," she whimpered helplessly, reaching for him.

She wanted him? There was no way. He had just met her.

Either way, he stood to his feet, addressing the group. "There's too many of you. You need to leave. Can't you see you're causing her distress?"

"We saw she was awake. We just need to run some tests," the doctor said.

He felt the feather-like touch on his leather jacket, and a quiet, fearful whimper that sent lightning bolts of red, hot anger throughout his body. Why would they cause her more fear?

"You need to leave. I'll call you when it's time for you to come in," he said sternly, his gaze dark and protective. It was a strange feeling that surged through his chest. He felt something similar when he was fighting alongside Sam, but this felt more intimate.

"You don't have any authority to tell me what to do. What is your relationship to this girl?" the doctor inquired.

Bucky clenched his fists. He wanted to break the shit out of this man's nose.

Lucky for the arrogant doctor, Sam was able to diffuse the situation. He stayed in the entry of the door.

"Woah, what's going on in here? Dr. Smith, Bucky has been the only one to calm her. He's with me, and I have the authority. You need to do what he tells you, or we will just find a different person for the job."

Dr. Smith gave a huff, giving a glare to the angry man.

Sam gave a Buck a tense nod when the room was finally empty.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked Mia, who looked scared out of her mind, huddled in the corner of the bed closest to him.

A tear fell onto her cheek, but she wiped it away quickly.

"I'm okay," she finally said.

"No, you're not, and that's alright." Bucky sank back into his seat, watching her closely.

"You act like you understand," she relaxed slightly, and he noticed her palms were cut from where her fingernails had been digging into the skin.

He reached for her hand, and she accepted his touch, which was very surprising. He reached for a tissue to wipe away the blood.

"I do understand," he said it simply, wondering if there would be more questions, but it was quiet.

Mia's whole body ached. She could feel it now that she didn't feel defensive. It hurt to breathe, hurt to think. Everything pulsed with pressure, and burned like fire.

"Thank you for getting them to leave," she whispered, laying back in the bed with a wince.

"You should see a doctor soon, but I'll make sure it isn't that one."

She hated doctors, especially that one that was just in there. They reminded her too much of the one's at - .

Mia shut down the thought, squeezing her eyes closed to stop the flow of painful, horrid memories.

"You should sleep," Bucky said, distracting her from her internal struggle.

She nodded, "Will you come back tomorrow?"

He came back everyday for the next few days. The pair didn't talk much, but they were comfortable with each other's company.

Mia even decided the doctor could finally come in. This one was a woman, and she had a warm personality, almost like a mother.

"You have some breaks that have healed improperly. We might have to reset those if possible. You're also covered in cuts and stab wounds of all kinds. You're dangerously underweight. We need to do a CT scan to know exactly what's going on." The doctor smiled gently, looking up from her clipboard. "Maybe you could tell Mr. Barnes what happened so we can get you proper help."

Mia gripped Bucky's gloved hand tightly, watching the doctor's every move.

The smile never faded from her kind face, "I'll have a nurse come in and prep you for that scan."

As soon as she was gone, Mia panicked once more. "No, no, Bucky. I don't want to go. I don't want to be scanned," she whimpered.

"Shh," he soothed, wiping away the tears with the pads of his covered thumb. "It doesn't hurt. I wouldn't let them hurt you."

A nurse knocked on the door. She set a cup on the table near the bed. "This is contrast so the doctor can see on the scan. Once you drink that, we should be good to go in about an hour. Do you have questions I can answer for you?"

Mia managed just the slightest shake of your head.

"Okay, call me when you finish that, or if you need me."

Whatever was in the cup was chalky and bitter, and hard to get down.

Bucky couldn't contain a chuckle at the adorable, disgusted faces Mia made.

"Don't laugh," Mia pouted, a twitch of a smile threatening to form. It was the first smile she had in a very long time. "You'll go with me, won't you?"

"Of course I will," he said. "I won't be able to go in the room with the scan, but I will be watching. I won't let anything happen to you."

Except, Mia didn't know that, and as soon as she was seperated from Bucky, she could feel the pressure in her chest. Her heart pounded viciously as she tried to force herself upright. Her ears were ringing so much that she couldn't hear or see what was going on around her. All she could see was the fleeting image of the metal table she had been forced to lay on, day in and day out. All the pain and screaming.

The memories that were trapping her began to disappear when she heard her name, the ringing becoming pesky background noise as Bucky's blurry image focused.

"Hey now," he said, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. He was no stranger to panic attacks. "You're okay, Mia."

She wasn't okay. The only time she was ever okay was when he was around, and that scared her too.

"If you do this, they'll know what's wrong and you can get out of here quicker."

"I hate this table," she cried, gripping his hands. "It's just like the one-"

"I know," Bucky whispered. He didn't know, but he would eventually. He needed to make sure the problem was taken care of. "I know it is, but you can do it. Nobody's going to hurt you."

Sam had been watching the exchange. He had been bringing Bucky some food when he had caught the scene.

"What's all this about?" Sam asked curiously. He had never seen the serious man so soft before. Normally, this would be a cause for some teasing, but this was a bit too sensitive for that.

"Don't ask," Bucky huffed, taking the bag of food from him. "Thank you. They only serve garbage here. She's not going to be able to put on any weight with that shit."

Sam eyed him curiously. "You've been with her for almost a week, so it is something, and I'll get it out of you eventually. You have me to thank for this."

"Yeah, whatever," he rolled his eyes. "I do need something from you. I need to know where she came from. I plan on taking a trip."

----

"Do you have to go?" Mia whispered sleepily. The hospital room was dark aside from a lamp. Usually, she was asleep when he left, but she had been extra clingy after the severe anxiety from the day. "I hate it when you leave."

That pulled at Bucky's heartstrings. He had developed strong feelings for the sweet brown haired girl.

"I'll even give you my bed," she said, her doe-like eyes catching the light.

He smiled, bending down closer, "You need to get some sleep. I'll be here in the morning."

"Please." She squished herself to oneside and patted the empty space.

Bucky sighed, "I can't. I have nightmares. I don't want to wake you. Plus, the bed is small. You're going to get hurt."

"I have nightmares, too. We can wake each other." She bit her lip and his resolve was slipping.

The fact was, he didn't want to leave. Not one bit. He wanted to be by her side all of the time.

"Alright, but if you need me to move or if I hurt you, you let me know." He laid beside of her, his ribs pressing harshly against the arms of the bed. It was not comfortable, not until Mia moved close.

He helped her adjust so she was half on top of him, giving him enough room to move over. She pressed her cheek to his chest with a content sigh.He felt content, too, like he finally belonged somewhere.

"Take the gloves off, Bucky. You can't sleep in those," she mumbled.

He hesitated. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. He didn't know what she knew of him, or what she had seen.

"You're the only person I'm not scared of," she continued gently.

He pulled off the flesh one first, and then slowly the vibranium one.

She smiled up at him, reaching for his metal fingers, "I knew this one felt different."

Bucky chuckled, the sound vibrating and tickling Mia. He pulled the scratchy blanket over her tiny frame.

"Get some rest."

----

🥺🥺🥺 This was a long one but it's been circling in my head for a while. Part 2? Thoughts?

#bucky barnes #bucky imagine #marvel #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #sam wilson #tfatws imagine #tfatws #the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #marvel fanfic

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ccelinewritess · 4 years

Text

the distance between us

pairing- draco malfoy x reader

word count- 9.7k

summary- the first time draco uses the muggle post system, it goes so terribly wrong, and a letter falls into the hands of a girl who was never supposed to see it, a muggle at that.

warnings- curse words, ptsd, anxiety/ panic attacks, depression mention of death, murder, blood and burns aswell as insomia, seperation anxiety (?) and my grammar.if these may trigger you, i suggested not reading.

a/n- this took me a while to get out, sry abt that. the reader was set to live in a canadian town called kelowna, british columbia. it takes place in readers grade 11/12 and dracos 6/7 year. i hope it’s not to self inserted, and you guys can enjoy and relate to it. big thank you to @dracodear for the help on this, love you! also thanks to everyone who left owl name suggestions, all were awesome and i ended up going with @winnsmills suggestion ‘noctua’ ! tumblrs been acting weird, so i hope it lets me post the whole thing. letters are in italics. also please note, this is off the movies timeline! i tried to fit in as many details as possible but some didn’t make it.

the town was widespread. wineries and mountains everywhere, the okanagan lake splitting it down the middle, reconnecting the cities halves by a bridge. little snow and tons of rain. jeep wranglers in every colour roaring around into unholy hours of the night, bustling with life yet all to lonely at times. but hey, that’s kelowna for you.

rain was running down the windows of y/ns most boring class, last period biology. she knew she should be paying attention. she had a high gpa to maintain, and couldn’t afford to fail another class besides french. the last five minutes of blabbering ended after what felt like a year.

‘you are dismissed, ill see you all monday, have a good weekend’ and with that everyone rose, heading to the parking lot as fast as possible in an attemp to dodge traffic. despite pouring rain, the air was hot, and on the ride home y/ns mind raced over every single assignment she had to complete over the next two days, while her hands tapped the steering wheel.

‘english essay, math review, history paper, business management graph’ she muttered under her breath. the town was busy, many students often blew off class to go shopping, or hit a movie, or smoke weed, the possibilities were endless. her house was cool compared to outside, and empty. no one was home, not that it was a surprise to the girl, people weren’t usually home, siblings gone to university, and parents working absurd amounts.

something caught her eye on the counter, an envelope, an ordinary seeming one, but absolutely covered in small pictured stamps with ‘england’ underneath each one. eighteen of them, all different. she knew shouldn’t open it, so she didn’t. at first. but it was irresistible. there was a return address written in the smallest writing she’d ever seen. wogshell, no, wiltshire? she took it to her room, and locked the door before ripping it open. she didn’t want the one time she had something intresting going on to be interrupted by whoever might show up.

her mouth fell open at every line of the same scroll. who was snape? why was this draco boy sending him a letter? he didn’t need his help to kill who? what the fuck was an unbreakable vow and why shouldn’t snape sign it? why was his mum going to see snape? who was the dark lord and why did he pick draco for a task? what kind of name is dumbledore?

what she already knew was confirmed- this letter was most definetly not for her. but newly- she opened a letter from a potential murderer or maybe it was a prank, a sick prank if it was one.

so instead she crafted up quite the response, whoever wrote this was either hysterical or in distress, and needed some sort of company- she thought, atleast.

it had been thirteen days, why wasn’t the letter back yet? the owl still couldn’t fly even about the house without damaging itself further. maybe using the muggle post system was a mistake. but better have it land into the hands of a muggle, who would likely throw it out, than a wizard who would know a death eater would soon be wondering around hogwarts.

as if on que, the door bell rang and echoed through the empty manor. on the porch sat an envelope, with only one stamp, his name in the middle and another he didn’t recognize in the corner. shit, this couldn’t be good. his eye caught the stamp. canada? fuck, this was supposed to go to cokeworth not bloody canada. no one was home so he opened it right there in the foyer.

hello, draco.

i am not snape- nor do i know who snape is. i am also very unfimilar with some of the vocabulary you used. dark lord? unbreakable vow? you seem to have quite the situation going on, if i read correctly. im not exactly stupid, but i do know that this letter was most definitely not supposed to be in my possession. i didn’t know who to send it to, id send it back to you, but you probably don’t want a copy of your own letter. i also know you likely have enough on your plate, but if you’d like someone to talk to im only half a world away, have no sort of schedule and am a good listener, well reader in this case. good luck with whatever task you’ve mentioned. p.s. you had about seventeen stamps to many, first time sending a letter? unfortunate fate, huh ? what kind of name is snape and what the heck is a dumbledore? i suppose it’s none of my business, knowing you likely won’t respond, but if you do i wrote my address on the front. have a good day/ night/ whatever time it is wherever you are.

y/n l/n

tears were welling in dracos eyes, he was floored, in a good and bad way. his task was already going downhill. the letter he sent snape had fallen into the hands of a muggle, who did not throw the letter away, but responded. and snape was likely going to bine himself into the task through the unbreakable vow, which draco was more than able to complete. he wouldn’t have been chosen if he wasn’t, right?

not only had she responded, she offered him help, well distant company, to a stranger who obviously had quite a few problems and she clearly had no regard for her own safety. he couldn’t tell her about the wizarding world. not that he could tell her about anything, she could be lying. he had a task to focus on, he couldn’t write her back.

and that was true- at the time. he had no intent of writing the girl back. and yet he found himself reading the 201 words over and over, running his hands across the paper, expecting them to fade away as he wiped. counting and recounting. he surely couldn’t talk to any of the twats at hogwarts, maybe a stranger could help numb the pain. and as long as he didn’t tell anyone- she couldn’t get hurt, she was to far.

draco was packed for hogwarts, the response at the bottom of the trunk, underneath his clothes. he’d just have to get to the damn school, then he could write all he wanted- without his parents knowledge or ridicule. his mind jumbled together what he was going to say while his friends rambled on. the train pulled up to the castle after dreadful hours and he could barely sit still during the opening feast. his thoughts did falter though, when dumbledore gave his speech, he felt guilty- the shame of his family weighing on his shoulders. he looked around, all his classmates staring in adoration at a man who would be dead ten months from now, and they were sitting in the same room as his killer.

the singular room was nice, he knew it wasn’t for lounge, but for plots of death.

before he began he started making promises to himself. if i get behind on the plan ill won’t write, if snape notices anything about it, ill stop. the list went on and on.

he couldn’t put his pen down, the words continued to fly out the end, was he oversharing?

dear y/n

my deepest apologies that my last letter found it’s way to you. im sure you didn’t expect whatever you may have perceived from it. honestly, i don’t know how it arrived all the way over there. im almost positive you have better things to do than listen to my problems, and i know you had no control over the fact it arrived, but i ask you to please not share this information with anyone. i am unsure if i will take up your offer of amity, if you were serious that is. im at school now, so if you’d like to respond, not that you have to- you can send letters back with my owl, it’ll be faster (and i won’t have to worry about stamps- thanks for the tip by the way)

draco malfoy

and with that noctua was off into the night, and he could only hope that it would make it to her.

droll was running down y/ns chin and she was caught in a dream. suddenly a vigorous tapping on the window pulled her into consciousness, the sight of owl knocking her backwards in a scare. a crash sounded, if the tapping didn’t wake anyone up, that surely did. she almost considered just trying to ignore it, until she noticed a letter tied to its neck and reluctantly opened the window. she’d never seen an owl in real life before, but was aware from school that they weren’t exactly the kindest of creatures. this one just perched on the window while she removed the new enevelope, no stamps in sight. just a neatly printed address, and his in the corner.

from the new letter she learned even more- this wasn’t a prank, draco was a real person, was still in school, and whatever the first misplaced letter contained was true. he had some sort of task and didnt want help, but that was all. so with what she could, she wrote another response. it took an hour and she wasn’t exactly sure what she had written by mid morning.

draco

you’d be quite suprised actually, it gets lonely over here. i still haven’t exactly deciphered your original note, so if you would like to help me understand i think i’d be ready. and no worries about me, my lips are sealed. what is an unbreakable vow, im curious? you go to boarding school? and owls, really? what the hell is up with that? im pretty sure it’s illegal to own one here, but we are countries away, so perhaps it’s different all the way over there. send whatever you want. i do not- by the way- have anything better to do in the slightest.

y/n

he continued to write throughout the month of september, which bled into october before he knew it. he was avoiding questions about the task, just wanting someone to talk to. it wasn’t easy, she was curious, which draco couldn’t exactly be mad at her for that since he continued to write her, accepting the distant friendship that was forming.

he was learning a lot about her aswell. besides french, which he informed her he spoke fluently numerous times, she was a very good student. she was single, he didn’t remember how that came up but made a note in his mind- he couldn’t date her, nor did he know enough about her to be properly involved.

she read a lot of books, sappy romances mostly, couldn’t cook anything deemed edible by anyone, and her favourite colour was green, he smirked when reading that for the first time. she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her future, just not a doctor like her parents wanted.

y/n was sitting in english as her teacher reviewed about univeristy application requirements. only next year they would be getting accepted and denied from their dream schools. she’d spent years dreaming of it, university, and yet somehow a boy half way around the was racing through her mind. she felt horrible about it, the small crush. it was incredibly selfish, falling for a boy with so much going on, he certainly didn’t need her as anything more than a friend to talk to, but he was good with his words, and making her feel important too. her dismissal came and so did a classmate, approaching confident and cocky.

‘hey, l/n’ he said, a smirk on his face

‘oh, uh hey, will’

‘what are doing tonight?’ her mind went blank, any excuse, come on, say something

‘i have plans’ wow real specific, great job, y/n

‘like what’

‘fish funeral, real important stuff, my family is just devastated’ her voice was clearly sarcastic and that was all before she walked right out. no she didn’t exactly have plans, but waiting for dracos owl provided much more company than any date could have. the sight of dracos owl flying towards the pre-opened window was somewhat relieving, she didn’t know why, just the fact that he had not failed yet, and was still out there was nice. she hadn’t had this much company. since last year at least, when her supposed best friend started ghosting her because of some petty shit.

thankfully noctua ad gotten quite good at being discreet when delivering the letters. of all the things on y/ns junior year bucket list, explaining to her parents that she had befriended a british boy with an owl who flyed into her room while her neighbours had a clear view, wasn’t one. she also began keeping a bowl of water under her bed for the owl to drink when it arrived, knowing it couldn’t have been easy travelling back and forth.

y/n

im not fully sure you want to know the depth, yet you seem to want me to corrupt you with my villain with a task baggage. i suppose it couldn’t hurt if i told you about the unbreakable vow. it’s like a promise or a bond, but if you break it then you die. if you can stomach that i may be able to tell you more. how far away do you reckon we are?

draco

draco wasn’t falling behind too far, but his first attemp had failed, and panic attacks were taking up most his time. he never had any, at least not this bad until this year. at least once a day he would start sweating, no matter how cold he was, unable to control his breathing or tears, feeling like the walls were caving in upon him.

that is, besides writing y/n as much as he could. apparently she was being honest, she had no schedule of any sort besides going to school. he hated to say, but he was becoming attached, he didn’t exactly know how either, but everytime he recieved a letter a small weight was lifted from his shoulders, even just when he read it.

noctua was doing the weekly, almost daily round at breakfast with the other owls and draco watched with anticipation as a letter dropped on his lap and owl on his shoulder. he tried to conceal the letter into his robes but pansy had taken matters into her own hands. likely jealous that she’d spent collectively around six hours with him the whole year, and he never talked to her like he used to.

‘ou draco whats this’ twirling the envelope between her hands. the letter had no name, no stamp, only a small heart drawing in the corner.

‘hands off parkinson’ he said while taking the letter back. ‘a letter from my mother, if you must know’ he said knowing that neither his mother or father had written him anything, despite having all the time to do so.

he got up and left the second he was done, not wanting to draw snapes suspicion about who could possibly be more important than working on this task.

he rushed to his room, desperate for more of her words. he tried to picture her voice in his head, but had to remind himself she wasn’t british nor was she from southern america.

draco,

so you just die if you break the promise? intresting. it’s not as hard to stomach as you seem to think, very unique tradition i suppose. you are not a villain draco, you haven’t told me much about it but your to good of a person to have picked any of this for yourself. i calculated when we you were home, seven thousand three hundred something, i don’t know where your fancy boarding school where you have owls for pets is, so it may be further. im ready whenever you are.

y/n

her letter was relieving for him aswell, even in the slightest it helped, but she deserved some sort of answer for helping him take his mind off the task for a couple minutes. he could tell if she wasn’t scared off already, this would do it.

y/n

if you are sure, here it is. dumbledore is my headmaster, the dark lord is a very powerful wizard, and snape is my professor. if i don’t kill dumbledore before july, he will kill me and my family, if i can’t complete the task, snape will kill him under terms of an unbreakable vow. im not a very good villain that’s for sure, my first attemp failed, and my classmate is out cold. i understand if you dont want to write to me anymore, just don’t tell anyone about this, please.

dm.

the only words to describe the feeling that overwhelmed her senses as she read were devastation and shock. tears pooled in her eyes as she tried to imagine herself with that much responsibility to wildhold until july. another detail that caught her eye, wizard? what did he mean by wizard? is that the word for dictator in england? certainly he wasn’t talking about the wizards she read about in storybooks as a child. her hand shook slightly and she debated mentioning it.

draco

you’re silly if you think i’d stop writing you. you need company now more than ever. please don’t hold things back from your letters, you deserve someone to talk to. that is quite the situation, im sorry if i pushed you, you do have enough on your shoulders and i want to help you as much as i can. i hate to ask, but you mentioned ‘wizards’ and i am a bit confused.

all my love

initially, draco went into shock. he knew he was probably oversharing, but didn’t expect to slip up in that way. he begrudgingly admitted; knowing that if this went badly he would likely be banished from the wizarding world, which didn’t seem like such a horrible punishment to him anymore. and yet she was fascinated, by the coins he sent her, the subjects he learned- which she compared to her own much less exciting ones, and everything he told her about it. he could now talk to her about much more, since both his secrets were now out in the open to her. he told her about the about the houses, and they both agreed she would probably be in hufflepuff, well he thought so, her kind and accepting nature, and she didn’t know enough to disagree. and for the first time in the long time he was seeing things differently, completely diminishing the rude behaviour he often displayed towards the house.

she even sent him a picture, the first time he ever saw her face. a large smile spread across her beautiful features, she seemed to be laughing. eyes glistening in the sun even prettier than he could have imagined. he slept with it under his pillow, and could stare at the still image for hours. no it didn’t move around, but he couldnt care less. he only had one picture of himself in his possession and he was young, about four. she was facinated by the moving image, his blonde hair and attitude shining right through. he would owl his mother for a more recent one, but didn’t want to explain why.

the letters were helping him, but the task wasn’t advancing. his second attempt had failed, he was caught sneaking into slughorns party, and harry was onto him. they were also causing him doubt. say they did get the cabinet fixed, he couldn’t see himself killing dumbledore anymore, the more he talked to her he realized he couldn’t be a killer, as cold as he was to some people, but he had to, didnt he?

most importantly every letter she sent gave him a sense of hope. that the second this is over he could move. away from voldemort, and potter, his parents even, england in whole. perhaps not to canada, but it could be a change, half way across the world with the girl who was helping him stay alive through his letters. he just needed to stay alive long enough too see her.

the seasons changed around draco, but his room stayed the same. hot from mysterious potions, for himself and some for dumbledore, he had not had much hope after the wine, though. it was lonely, not that he’d like y/n here, he’d much rather be there, all the way across the world.

may came in a blur, and finals were creeping up. one week y/n sat at her desk, every night, waiting for a letter that didn’t come. on the fifth letterless day she cried. not exactly knowing why, it wasn’t her that had much of a reason to cry, but dracos company had filled her lonely life up with light of its own, leaving it darker than it was before she saw the first letter. she was silly to be so attached and silly to expect him to reciprocate the feelings she had proclaimed in the last one she sent, and should have expected him to stop eventually. so she continued on with school, finding it a bit easier to concentrate now that a draco sized whole was missing from her brain, and her heart aswell.

the next week, though, a letter came, very appreciated by y/n as the whole other universe, british boy forgetting thing wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

y/n

im sorry for not writing, the classmate i mentioned all those months ago woke from the curse, and the potter twat hexed me with a spell id never heard of before. i would have tried to contact with you but i couldn’t exactly trust what my brain was planning on writing, and the cuts are still a bit sore. the cabinets fixed, but even if everything works out okay i won’t be writing very much at all. i’ll be home in july, but the manor will be infested with death eaters and i can’t let you get hurt. thank you for everything l/n.

draco

it stung a little, knowing that the empty feeling the girl just experienced would be more frequent, he didn’t mention anything about what she had said, and that this could be the last time she ever heard from him if he didn’t kill dumbledore. in hindsight, practically telling her she loved him in a letter wasn’t what he needed, she knew that.

he left out the fact that he the spell put a him in a huge emotinal draught. he was exhausted constantly, crying even more than before. the cuts were sore, so he wasn’t holding everything back.

the last month of school came and went all to fast for dracos liking, and death eaters now roamed around the castle, causing havoc where ever they could. his trunk had been shurken so small it looked like a small muggle toy he put into his pocket easily. the dark mark that was stretched across his left arm was now hanging in the gray sky, and the headmaster was no where to be seen. he paced anxiously around a vacant corridor until he heard a pop in the astronomy tower. he didn’t think people could apparate into hogwarts, it would have made his job much easier.

‘harry, get snape, i need snape now’ he seemed exhausted, maybe this wouldn’t be as hard

‘sir im going to sit you down okay, and then ill go get madam pomf-‘

‘severus, harry, I need severus now, go get him and talk to no one else’ he said in a shallow yet somewhat urgent and angry tone.

draco waited for footsteps to disappear, before whipping the door open with his wand already ready.

‘oh hello, draco, nice to see you on this fine evening’ he said nonchalantly, leaning his weight against the wall.

‘EXPELLIARMUS’ draco boomed, successfully disarming the man without counter attempts before glancing around to see a second broom

‘who else is here?’ he said sounding confident but feeling the opposite

‘i could ask you the same question, acting alone are you? you don’t seem supported’

‘no, there are death eaters in your school tonight, and i got them here’ he snarked ‘they’ll be up, any minute now, their fighting down below. i’ve got a job to do’

‘well done boy, if you don’t mind me asking a few questions, before you get on with it, im very intrested’ was he kidding? he knew draco was about to kill him right? wanting to stall, and not fully wanting to kill him he nodded his head yes.

‘you seem scared to act until they join you

‘im not scared, you should be scared’ he snarled, unable to contain the fear in his voice any longer any longer

‘oh draco’ he sighed ‘while we wait for your friends arrive, care to explain how you smuggled them in here? i never imagined it possible, especially not by a student’

‘i had to mend the broken cabinet that no ones used for years, there’s another one in borgin and burkes. montague got stuck in told everyone stories about it, how he could sometimes hear what was going on in the shop and sometimes hear hogwarts like a passage, and i was the only one who discovered what it meant. not even borgin, not you either, i did it right under your nose, you didn’t realize anything’ he said

‘you are right, i didn’t know that. i do- on the other hand, know that you aren’t a killer’

he raised his wand a little higher, feeling wheezy and as though his legs would give in any second

‘how you know that, I’ve done despicable things, you wouldn’t even be able to fathom’

it was dumbledore’s time to pause, glancing up at the sky and looking around the room before continuing

‘draco i know you almost killed katie bell and ron weasley. you’ve been trying to kill me all year, forgive me for saying this, but they’ve been very feeble attempts. to be honest ive wondered wheather your heart has truly been in it’

‘it has, and if you knew why didnt you stop me’

‘snape has been watching over you on my orders’

‘ it’s not on your orders, he promised my mother-‘

‘ofcourse he would tell you that, but it happens to be that i trust professor snape’

‘your losing it then, he’s a double agent, he isn’t working for you- he’s been trying to get in on the action all year, helping me and all. doesn’t matter now- he probably doesn’t even know they are here yet, he will wake up tomorrow and no longer be the dark lords favourite, he will be nothing compare to me’ confidence was building within him

‘very gratifying, we all like being recognized for our hard work, but, draco?im standing here wandless and weak, unable to defend myself, and you have not made any move to kill me, dont blame me for believing you will not, but let’s discuss your options’

‘my options’ he laughed ‘im standing here with a wand, about to kill you’

‘oh dear boy, if you were going to kill me you would have when you disarmed me, not stayed for a little chat’

‘i haven’t got any options, don’t you understand, i have to kill you, or he will kill me’

‘okay, if you don’t want to join the order with your mother where we could protect you, i only have one more question’

‘better hurry, theyre on their way’ he almost laughed which was quickly replaced when Dumbledore said his next words.

‘who is y/n l/n’ at that a tear fell down dracos face, and he lowered his wand almost completely

‘i-i don’t know who that is, odd l-last words’ he stuttered

‘draco dont play dumb now, not after we discovered you are very intelligent. we left some of the security measures from last year that Umbridge enabled, and I couldn’t help but notice hundreds of letters flowing to and from her. i looked into student files, ilvermornies too, nothing, id never heard the name, a muggle i presumed. but of all the things, that had me the most confused. i couldn’t figure out why you would be contacting her, so i did some meddling’

‘WHAT DID YOU DO’

‘fiesty all the sudden, are you? i felt bad after opening this, it seemed very personal, and i probably should given it too you sooner, but i was a bit preoccupied double checking my drinks and all’ dumbledore said handing him the letter.

draco

how is the cabinet coming? it’s raining even more here than usual, all day and night. and don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. you are just a kid, you shouldn’t be forced to be a hero. you are protecting so many people right now, but i don’t need any. you have given my life enough light in the last few months than i ever recall, and im so thankful that letter came to me. i wish you were here with me right now, but i know you can’t be, so just stay alive, okay?

y/n

more tears fell, he hated being so weak at the mention of her, crying before he completed the blessing his father and bellatrix considered the task to be.

‘she’s right, draco, you deserve another chance’

he was speechless, and could tell Dumbledore knew he found his weakness.

‘i always pictured you and pansy, never in a million years imagined you to be in a relationship with a muggle’

‘no matter who does it, your about to be killed, and im not here to discuss my love life am i?’

‘so you do love her?’ before draco could even think he heard a door open and raised his wand, hiding the letter faster than he had ever moved.

‘shut up, they will kill her’ he said quietly and desperately

in walked fenrir greyback, yaxley, and bellatrix. they made banter of their own, but her words replayed. he couldn’t do it.

‘go on draco’ his aunt whispered into his ear, making him shiver.

‘DO IT, DO IT BOY’ she yelled, in a high pitched and annoying voice

he felt a strong arm over his chest, pushing him aside, and he saw the whoosh of snapes robes and an already pleading dumbledore

‘severus, please’

‘AVADA KEDAVRA’ snape shouted, a green flash producing from the end of his wand, hitting the old man square in the chest. draco rushed over to the edge, watching him fall. it was a long way down.

the rain had sudsided, sunlight leaking into her room during the day. watching the sky at night, failing to find constellations he described many times to her. her wardrobe was mostly untouched, remaining in pyjamas most of the week. the odd time she did leave, she saw her old friends walking and laughing out her car window. eating and socializing felt like a chore, and she hadn’t communicated with the boy since may. he could be dead, she didn’t know. there was no death on the ‘muggle’ news, and draco wasn’t on the top wanted list, not that he likely would be on the television all the way over here. he could be fine, in wiltshire, going to dinner parties and holding balls. or maybe, he too, was sitting in his room staring at the ceiling for days on end. she had now hung the picture of a young draco by her desk, not needing to worry about anyone seeing. her siblings were once again home, but out living their lives so much that it still felt like they were gone. for the first time she noticed his scroll on the back.

‘i was four when this was taken i believe, my hair is very similar, i was quite sassy, im sure that shows without explanation.’ she blushed while reading, it was true. his hands were on his hips whipping his head around.

every day was a surprise around malfoy manor. not the kind of surprise draco liked. not the feeling of butterflies in his stomach when he read y/ns letters, those were replaced by a pit as they were summoned around the large table in the dining room. the first one he attended was horrible, watching his muggle studies teacher being hung above their heads, pleading for the help of severus as she died. he bit his tongue in an attempt to avoid raging about about every comment surrounding muggle culture. each one tore his heart, as he imagined the girl all those kilometres away, the girl he had no contact with, but he looked at her picture as much as possible, and hoped one day he could make her smile again like she did in the image.

senior year was here, and y/n schedule picked up once again. her timetable was full, maybe it was best, a distraction, after a whole summer of thinking alone in her room. draco was on her mind at night, no matter how hard she tried to forget. she’d made friends with her creative promotions partner, logan. he was certainly not intrested in her in anyway besides friends, but company after all this time was enjoyable, just in the hour of class

draco had little privacy, with death eaters in every hallway, conversing with eachother. wherever he went someone was there, until he finally got sick of it and began going to the garden bench. with a book, sometimes, giving some of the sappy love stories y/n mentioned a try or even the poetry books she sent with noctua awhile back, they were okay, but his heart hurt at the feeling of relation in every line. he could only read one or two poems at a time, without tears forming in his green orbs.

sometimes he went with a pen and a notebook. he wrote about everything. the smell of the plants around him, the feeling in his chest when the dark lord called for a meeting. most of the notebook, though, was filled with poems of his own. and letters he had no intention of sending for her own safety. she wasn’t in harms way, though, other followers were preoccupied with ruining weddings and other things they considered fun. he blabbered on for pages, about how he missed seeing noctua fluttering towards him at breakfast. how he rereads the letter that dumbledore gave him the night he died. how she listened to him rant on and on, giving her support no matter how evil he felt. how he found love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

snow was falling once again, he had to dress in layers, making it hard to write often, the plants started dying as cold settled over and his mother no longer babied him like she used to before the death eaters began inhabiting the mansion. he couldn’t keep himself company any longer and gave into the pressure he put on himself. as long as they were careful, she’d be in no destruction- he prayed as he wrote what seemed to be an appropriate response after all this time.

like it had been decades, she flinched at the noise of the owl on the window, carrying a much larger scroll that he’d ever sent before, some parts scratched out and written above. his writing was much less tidy than she remembered, like the letters on the page were anxious for her reaction.

love,

after all this time, im sorry you are just now hearing from me. you have ever single right to be annoyed with me, after you listened to me for months, helping me emotionally in ways i never be able to repay you for. you do not need to forgive me, or write me back. i just wanted to keep you safe. but i needed to tell you everything before it might actually be to late. you’ve probably moved on and forgotten about me, like you should, but i guess im saying that i am alive. i didn’t kill him either. snape did. i thought i was going to be able to, but he started talking about you. he gave me a letter from you that he had already opened, the words repeated in my head over and over. you talked about how i deserved another chance, and how you wish I’d was there with you. right before he died he asked me if i loved you. i knew the answer but didn’t have time to say it. ive read your poetry books, they aren’t as bad as i once thought, i can’t read to many at once. i try to forget what dumbledore said that night, and that night altogether. but one day i read ‘that’s how you know you love someone, i guess. when you cant experience anything without wishing the other person was there to see it too.’ when i sit in the garden i imagine you smelling the flowers, myself picking one and putting it behind your ear. when i go on walks i imagine your hand in mine. youre in my dreams. my never ending thought. i remember the way i felt when we started talking a lot, and how I felt when we didn’t get a chance. you listened to me when no one else offered. not even my parents. i hope your doing okay, and smiling and laughing. i don’t care if we talk about absolutely nothing, i just want to talk to you. i know that’s unfair to you after all ive weighed on you. but i guess that’s all, i love you. draco ♡

well this certainly didn’t get him off her mind. she didn’t need to either. ofcourse she was going to write him back, but she needed time to think about her response. she missed the next day of school, and his owl was comfortably standing on her desk, nibbling away at the water and crumbs. she took an hour long shower, multiple naps, raided her fridge, and had to email the school pretending to be her mum, excusing her for the day. before she even knew what she was going to write, she began on a new piece of paper. she’d have thought longer, but was sure draco would be convinced she stole noctua out of anger.

draco,

wow. i don’t really know what to say. i knew you weren’t a killer, and i meant what i said about you deserving more chances. i will admit i was angry, and a bit confused. i sent that letter with high hopes. i don’t know what i was hoping for at the time, i was being incredibly selfish. but couldn’t help myself feel pained when you didn’t mention it in the next letter when you said harry hexed you. i know we can’t be together, especially not right now, but i love you too. i wish more than anything you were here with me right now, and it was you i’d be graduating with half a year from now. i wish you were in the passenger seat of my car while i drive through the city. i wish you could point out the constellations in the sky. i usually can’t read to many poems either, they get me thinking to much. im ready to write again if you are.

y/n

draco hadn’t felt more joy in a long time. around seven months. she loved him, and that was enough happiness for a life time. he just needed to stay alive.

they continued to stay in touch, almost as if they never stopped talking, entertaining eachother as much as possible, masking their separate misery and the distance between them. he could get time away from the reality that was his life for a while, he thought, until snatchers brought the trio he spent so long bickering with to the manor.

a very distorted looking harry fell before him, his hair tightly gripped by bellatrix.

‘well, is it him’ he knew it was harry. and yet a part of him couldn’t bring himself to letting the boy get killed.

‘i can’t be sure’ he lied

‘draco, look closely son’ lucius said loudly, getting a grip on the back of dracos neck before leaning in and whispering.

‘if we are the ones that hand potter to the dark lord, all will be f-forgiven. a-all will go back to how it was’

his father and the and a snatcher quickly got into an arguement. lucius was yelling something about the manor before narcissa calmed him with a hiss.

‘don’t be shy, sweetie come here take a closer look’

draco was know level with him. the scar was still visible on his forehead, and swollen eyes staring back at him, hopeless.

‘what’s wrong with his face’ draco said

‘yes what is wrong with the boys face’ a shrill voice repeated

‘he was like that when we got him, something he picked up in the forest i reckon’

bellatrix walked away, laughing away at something. the blonde boys eyes were still on harry, before he felt a tap on his shoulder. bellatrix began acting out, yelling about a sword, putting ropes around snatchers neck from the end of her wand. sword now in her hand she walked over to ronald weasley, grabbing his collar and demanding that the boys be put in the cellar.

a different draco would have gladly watched a mudblood be tortured by his aunt. but he flinched at every scream of hermione, unable to watch he went to the next room, resisting tears as he thought of the girl he fell for enduring the same. she had moved onto the goblin- ridiculing it about who got into her vault- and hermiones screams were now gone.

‘youre lucky, goblin, the same won’t go for this one’ he heard footsteps

‘like hell it wont’ he heard ron yell, followed by the expelliarmus and what must have been harry stupefying his father. draco rushed in, now dueling a more normal looking harry, until their attention caught on bellatrix, a knife to grangers throat. they dropped there wands, and he did as instructed, picking them up. lucius was summoning the dark lord when they heard a tittering on the ceiling, and the chandlier crashing. it all moved so fast and harry was now wrestling draco for his wand back. he tried, but harry had already pried it out of his cold and shaky hands.

‘STUPID ELF. THAT COULD HAVE KILLED ME’

‘dobby never meant to kill. dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure’ the house elf squeaked, and draco had never resisted a chuckle so hard.

‘HOW DARE YOU TAKE A WITCHES WAND. HOW DARE YOU DEFY YOUR MASTERS’

‘dobby has no master, dobby is a free elf, and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends.’ and with that they apparated out, not without bella throwing a knife into the mix.

meanwhile, y/n was receiving letters of her own. not from draco either. letters from the schools she applied to. so far everything was good, except for princeton, but she didn’t have the highest expectations. she was accepted to the university of british columbia, seattle university, even ucla. she only had one letter left, and the large stuffed yellow envelope sat in her hands. she wasn’t sure about it- would she even be able to go to the univeristy of london? it was far, but draco was there, well closer to there atleast. accepted- it read. it was an option, and she still had weeks to think about it.

draco was very hesitant to write after the incident at the manor, the screams of Hermione, and the terrifying looking potter still vivid in his brain and nightmares. he often woke from sleep in a sweat, yet freezing cold. whispers of the war around his house also haunted his mind and soul. he’d walk to the window and look up at the the stars, they were under the same sky, at least. eventually he had to write her, it had been half a month and he couldn’t leave her hanging alone again.

y/n

love, im sorry for being hesitant, but there is going to be a war. i hate to leave you contact-less, but i need you to be safe now more than ever. i couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt. potter and his friends were brought here to the manor, it didn’t last long- they escaped within the hour and a half. with that doped elf, and a goblin too. if you don’t hear from me again, remember i love you. and always will.

draco

of all the letters y/n had recieved, from draco in all, that was probably the most displeasing. a war? like with tanks and bombs? tears were shedding down her face as she wrote the shortest response yet. knowing he most definitely didn’t have time to listen to her talk about schools, and how she got accepted to london, but her parents deemed it to far, ubc would have to do, she’d find her way to him eventually, if they were meant to be.

draco

stay safe, i love you.

yn.

draco now stood at snapes new office, dozens of corpses on the floor, pooled in blood. the dark lord speaking parsel tounge to nagini. no one needed to speak it to know that the man was infuriated about something potter had done.

the information he left was lacking, was he serious? what did wizarding wars even look like? her graduation date was set, June 6th, but it all seemed irrelevant, suddenly picking out a dress didn’t seem as fun as she thought, same with getting portraits taken. should she have said more?

next thing he knew the protection spell was countered and he apparated in, grabbing zabani and goyle by the collar. rushing them into a corridor and waited for the door of the room of requirement to completely vanish before approaching himself. they successfully found harry, opening a box carefully before finally drawing attention to themselves.

‘well well, what brings you here, potter’ draco said, softly, much to his surprise as he meant it to sound snarky and rude

‘i could ask you the same’

‘i believe you have something of mine, and id like it back’ was he becoming… kind?

‘whats wrong with the one you have?’ harry replied

‘it’s my mothers, powerful but different, doesn’t fully understand me, im sure you know the feeling’

‘why didn’t you tell her. bellatrix? you knew it was me, and you didn’t tell her’ he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, nor did he know. harry really didn’t have anything to do with his feelings for y/n, maybe he should have just turned in him when he had the chance, it would all be over if he had.

‘don’t be a wuss draco, just do it now’ goyle whispered in his ear, making him chill the same way bellatrix did on the astronomy tower, almost a year ago.

‘expelliarmus’ hermione half shouted, causing narcissas want to fly out of dracos hands and run the other way.

‘avada kedavra’ goyle missed and weaslebee started chasing after them, yelling something about his girlfriend. turning back around after goyle unsuccessfully casted the fiendfyre curse.

fear was making his body almost rattle as he desperately climbed bookcases in an attemp to outrun the flames. he watched goyle fall, into the orange. yes, he was a complete and utter twat, but wasn’t a half bad friend during dracos bullying peek. his foot slipped, now just his hands were keeping him up, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. in the distance he saw the three, zooming off to safety in the distance, leaving them their to die. not that he blamed them, after anything he did to them, he would have probably left himself there aswell.

but potter was flying towards him, arm out-stretched, grabbing onto his own and hoisting himself on the broom. had he already died? must not have, because the heat had finally caughten up. feeling as though he was going to pass out, he gripped tighter onto harry, maintaining his position on the broom. so much for staying safe. the second they made it out, they crashed onto the ground. he wanted to thank harry, but found himself running off instead.

explosions and hexes were being sent everywhere. people dying left and right. giants and trolls and spiders helping, he found himself in the slytherin common room. partially because he wanted to say goodbye, as he never wished to return to the building again once he had the choice. and partially as he was now aware of a large burn on his arm, and he felt a need to put off fighting until absolutely necessary. he entered through the portrait, for the last time. it felt like an aquarium, looking out upon the lake filled windows, merpeople and the giant squid often zooming by. he sat down upon the sofa, where he spent countless hours avoiding homework, plotting against potter and swimming in lust of his pure-blood status that now felt like a curse. he went up to his dorm, where he did very similar things. he wondered as to what he would be doing if he was a muggle right now. picking out a suit for graduation, buying a corsage for his date, but he wasn’t, so he best get going. running his hands along the furniture before leaving, not looking back.

the noise in the entrance courtyard had completely been diminished and draco found his way into the crowd of students pooling in. death eaters swarmed towards them at a painfully slow place, his mother and father near the head of the group. he noticed hagrid, towering above them, carrying what could only have been harrys corpse.

he watched carefully as they approached, trying to wedge himself inbetween and behind other students.

‘harry potter is dead’ voldemort paused ‘from now on, you put your faith in me’ silence fell over the hundreds of people who were know gathered. he swished his robes and turned backwards facing his followers

‘HARRY POTTER IS DEAD’ obnoxious and deafening cackles erupted

‘and now is the time to declare yourselves. come to our side, or die’ even more silence fell.

‘draco’ his father hissed before repeating ‘draco’

he felt eyes fall all over him, gazing expectantly. tears ran down his face.

don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. was this what she meant? he’d been looking for another chance, maybe this was it.

he shook his head no, and noticed his father had fallen a shade of pale he didn’t know existed.

‘Draco, DRACO’ he yelled, clearly enranged, but before he could continue - a movement shifted in hagrids arms, and harry fell out. in a heartbeat draco threw his wand to the scar faced boy. he caught it, looking grateful as he could while casting some sort of spell at nagini. death eaters were disappearing into the air- including lucius, narcissa being dragged with him.

draco didn’t know what to do with himself, he was wandless and he couldn’t fight, unless he wanted to engage in an actual physical duel, which he didn’t. he found himself in the great hall, asking professor sprout if she needed help patching those up, she pulled him into a hug, unexpectantly. he never recalled such contact or connection with a professor. he spent the rest of the battle helping healing wounds with dittany, and caring for those left in the wake. it was a nice distraction from the fact he would most definitely be disowned, left a family-less orphan at 17.

y/n couldn’t blame him for not writing, he clearly stated that it might be the last time. but every night she cried until she couldn’t cry anymore, or until she fell asleep. how could she like him so much? they’d never even met. she didnt really need to see him to know him, his letters told him enough about him. and she could only hope- that if he managed through his six year without killing his headmaster, he could make it through the war.

he delayed going back to the manor for as long as possible, until he decided to apparate directly into his room. he considered packing his things up, but realized no one was home. he was thankful, he don’t think he would ever be able to fully confront his parents again. he fell asleep in his bed, and slept for 48 hours straight. he slept through very vivid dreams, ones of y/n being tortured the same way as Hermione, ones of the dark lord coming alive once again and killing his mother because of his choices. he couldn’t bring himself to sleep again purposefully, no matter how exhausted he was. the days weren’t much better, his mind raced at unbelievable paces. he saw the dead bodies laying around the great hall, the unrecoverable ones. maybe he should have just fallen into the fire, surely that would have been easier. he was slowly becoming thinner, and always needed multiple blankets to even stay at a somewhat warm temperature, his heart beat faster than normal. he often felt pains in his neck, and his eyes were almost always puffy from crying. he spent so much time in bed he almost didn’t hear his owl flutter onto his nightstand mid afternoon, a small package tied loosely around his neck.

he opened it to see a letter, muggle candies and a worn book. suddenly he felt more awake, and be shot up a little to fast then he should have, sitting on the edge of his bed.

draco.

i don’t know where you are, or if youre alive, if youre reading this now. i hope this doesn’t arrive at a bad time. but your 18 now, so happy birthday. if you are seeing this, i still love you. i think about you all the time. i hope you are okay, and safe. in case you don’t end up writing me back, i just thought I’d give you some random information to keep you company and away from your mind. i graduate tomorrow. i look at your picture everyday. I remember what you once told me about following my dreams, so instead of medicine, im going to study literature and business next year. im staying in kelowna aswell for now, hoping maybe you’ll be able to visit someday. im sure you’d like it. my favourite colour is still green. i don’t know what else to say.

always here to listen if you’d like to talk. yn.

was it actually his birthday? had it already been a month since the war? it felt like a year but the visions played over and over like it was yesterday. it took him awhile before it clicked. the war was over, Voldemort was dead and there was no one to stop him from seeing her. he completely disregarded the lightheaded feeling he got when he stood up to fast- and rushed to his wardrobe. it took him a bit longer than he thought to pack up all his clothes, including the thousands of letters he kept hidden in a large drawer. the trunk was a bit heavier than he may have thought, and he ended up needing to take a car, in fear that he may not be able to apparate successfully to the airport without injuring himself. he quickly found out that muggle travelling was harder than he thought, and security and customs were also apparently a thing that all people needed to get through.

he wrapped himself in his cloak and didn’t get a drop of sleep the whole plane ride. it was nighttime when they flew over montreal, and then toronto. the sun rose as they crossed through winnipeg, regina, and calgary. he didn’t know this himself ofcourse, but he aggressively hit the map on the screen in front of him, desperate to know where he was. he only got an hour of half decent sleep before he felt rattling of the plane landing, and he gripped tightly onto the arm rests. he struggled for half an hour before he even got sight of his luggage on the moving thing that went round and round. compared to London, kelownas airport was very small and easy to navigate. the air outside was hot, making draco feel even more self concious about his clothing choices.

y/n put her hair back into a twist with a clip taking a suprising amount of effort to make sure it looked okay. her makeup was natural looking, nothing crazy but she looked gorgeous none the less. she slipped into her black romper, some canadians didn’t wear their fancy dresses to convocation, only something simple to go with the cap and gown. she arrived at the ceremony, seeing everyone, with excited smiles and laughs, conversing amongst themselves. and every memory came rushing back. they sat in rows on a stage, listening to the heartfelt and extremely cheesy speech the staff made every single year. she’d never noticed how many kids were in her age group until they were being called up one by one.

‘alex can’

‘ruth lee’

and the list went on and on until finally

‘y/n l/n’ the moment had come, and she shook everyone’s hand, receiving her diploma and flipping her caps tassel to the left. ‘y/n is staying around next year, and attending the university of british columbia okanogan, good luck l/n’ her principal said and claps continued like they had and the rest of the list finished sooner, or seemed to go by faster, she wasn’t sure.

draco had never had to find a taxi by himself, but once he did he gave the driver the only place he knew, the address he saw on the top corner of her first response almost two years ago.

y/n pulled away from the school grounds, watching them disappear in her rear view mirror. it was hot with a breeze, but she smiled the whole way home. she’d done it, made it through every assignment and class, dealt with attention hungry bitches, and crappy teachers. the next door was truly opening. pulling up to her house, and closing her car door as she hopped out, she watched her feet carry her up to the house. turning the corner, she saw him, sitting there on her steps, a present wrapped horribly in his hands, looking very out of place in his black cloak. she stopped in her own steps and he hesitantly stood up, before she launched herself into his arms breathing in his cologne, finally together after all this time.

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco x you #draco x female reader #draco x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter headcanon #draco malfoy headcanon #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic rec #harry potter x y/n #cedric diggory x reader

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eyesaremosaics · 3 years

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TRIGGER WARNING:

The past few days, I have been shocked, saddened and disgusted with an artist who I have admired since I was a child. I remember seeing the sweet dreams video when it came on MTV in 1995 when I was 6 years old. I remember being frightened, but mesmerized by him. I pretended to hate him whenever he would come on TV, and my dad would tease me: “oh, there you go it’s your boyfriend Megan.” I would shriek in disgust and say “no!” Secretly I would watch his music videos when no one else was home, there was a hypnotic quality to his voice...something that drew me in. I know many females my age can relate. I bought his albums in secret, and until I was 15 years old I had this very real fear that if my family found out I listened to Marilyn Manson—they would stop loving me. Which seems silly and absurd, I often laugh about that.

However, once high school hit, he became more gimmick and less rock and roll. More self aggrandizing and less of a nihilistic commentator on society. He was once a major influence to me, my style of art, expression and creativity. The women he dated became icon’s to me, something to be emulated. I became a vintage girl because of my interest in Dita Von Teese at age 14. I wore high heels to school, seamed stockings with a garter belt, dressed like a 1950s housewife. I was voted best dressed in my high school senior year (2006).

I never had a crush on him or anything, it wasn’t really like that, it was more like he was a person I looked up to. After his interview in bowling for Columbine, all his interviews, his book, tv appearances etc. he came across as a highly intelligent and creative person who challenged social norms and societal constructs. I appreciated his androgyny, and admired his fearlessness. I listened to his music a great deal in high school, and it got me through some very dark and angsty times.

As the years went on, it became apparent he was losing his edge. I loved Rose McGowan, she was one of the women I modeled myself after as a young person (next to Winona Ryder of course), and she always spoke highly of him, saying he was a good boyfriend, but the drugs were something she couldn’t hang with. When he was with Dita, I fell in love with her too, and found her to be just as cool and interesting.

When he cheated on Dita with Evan Rachel Wood I was devastated. I felt like my idol fell. The stand-up man I thought he was—wasn’t real, and I am ashamed to say I blamed Evan, vilifying her as some “scarlet woman” who destroyed what was (to me) the perfect marriage. Little did I know that this poor girl was suffering. In ways many of us can relate to, and many we can’t begin to understand.

A few girls that I follow on IG have come forward with graphic accounts of the abuse to which they were subjected by Brian Warner (aka Marilyn Manson), and it made me sick to my stomach. I mean... I wrote him off as a has been in 2007, but I still thought he was an ok person, I still respected him for the art he made that inspired me as a kid. Now I feel like a huge chunk of my childhood was a lie. All the things I thought he stood for were merely conjecture.

All this background was necessary to get to what I really wanted to say: this whole ordeal was very triggering for me as a survivor of narcissistic/sociopathic, sexual, emotional and physical abuse. I stand with these girls, because though I can only begin to imagine some of the things they have described in their testimony... other things I know all too well. In fact many of the situations these poor girls were violently subjected to, have happened to me as well. It actually broke me down in tears to read.

My heart goes out to the survivors, you are strong and beautiful. It takes YEARS to survive this type of abuse. I know because I am living proof. I have been in more than one relationship like this, which led me to have zero self esteem, resort to substance abuse, risky self-destructive behavior, attempted suicide etc. I have been in extensive therapy for these traumas for over five years now, and only in the last two, was I able to get a full sense of self back.

There is so much to say on this issue. I am proud of the girls who came forward, it takes an insane amount of bravery to call out your abuser publicly... I still haven’t had the courage to call out mine. However it gives me strength to know there is a movement of women empowering each other to break their silence and speak their truth.

I am disillusioned and sad about this person I used to think highly of, but it’s the same feeling you go through when leaving a narcissistic/sociopathic relationship. In my own situation... I left feeling like Marion Cotillard’s character in “inception”. The top forever spinning...Not knowing when I would wake up into the real world....Not knowing which was the real world, and which was a dream. Wanting to die, so you can finally wake up.

There are stages of grief that you go through, accepting that this person never cared about you, and saw you only as narcissistic supply, or as “food” for their ego. They see matters only as a means for power and control. They don’t feel things the way you or I do. It is in this that you should pull power from. You are not the one who is weak, it is they who are weak. They who lack the emotional depth or compassion to function as a normal human being. They will never know love, or real friendship—and you should feel sorry for them. What a terribly lonely and meaningless existence that must be. To be a parasite.

You ( the survivor) still have a chance for life, YOU will love again. It may feel like you will never reach the other side of it, through the panic attacks, the sleepless nights, the terrorizing anxiety, the bouts of crying, the humiliation, the silence, the nightmares—but you will. I learned a long time to let things build and not destroy me. To any of you reading this who may be able to relate: you can do it too.

I never thought I would survive my demons, I have a history of abuse that goes back to my childhood, which is why I am so protective of children now. It’s almost like I have made it my personal mission to assure that no child will ever be hurt the way I was, not on my watch.

Keeping your inner child alive is so crucial to survive the darkness of this world. We have to be the architect of our own reality, and rebuild a new world, a safe one to live in. One where a man can treat us with love and kindness. That doesn’t mean we should forget. We forgive the abusers not because they deserve forgiveness, but because we deserve peace.

I stand with all women out there living with this kind of abuse. Living with domestic violence. You are not alone. I hear you, I see you. There is a deeper systemic problem going on here enabling this kind of violence, and it Must. Be. Stopped.

#breakthesilence

#me #marilyn manson #break the silence

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the-lavender-creator · 3 years

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warning: euphoria spoilers, tw alcohol, drugs, sex, vague mention of suicide, abortion and sorry if i forgot any of the other common trigger tags

during there grad or dance or whatever they went to the bathroom together and they were in the stall and jules told rue i want you to want to kiss me so bad that you don't even ask and that lines lives rent free in my head 😭😭😭 rue didn't kiss her tho bc she's a shy little bottom smh 🙄 so they went back out to the dance floor or i think they went outside to sit and talk and long story short rue suggested they just run away to new york and jules said yes so they went back to rue's house for her to grab her stuff and then they went to the chain station where rue chickened out and jules kissed her on her hand and told her goodbye and that's pretty much where the season ended well after rue walked back home crying in the rain and then there was the notorious all for us dance part. i really relate to rue bc she has anxiety she was diagnosed with anxiety, ocd and i believe bipolar disorder all of them like between early childhood and her teens and like she also does really chaotic spur of the moment stuff like suggesting they run away but then she chickens out and i relate to tht a lot in terms of anxiety bc well same and also i feel like most characters with anxiety are portrayed as shy and and like anxiety is there whole personality whereas rue's portrayal seemed more realistic at least in terms of my own xp. like once she had a panic attack the first day back at school when she had to talk about her summer in front of the class, she also had a panic attack at a party but we also see her like being that wild and chaotic teenager and i think it's very important that they portrayed that those things are not mutually exclusive

rue says drugs are kind of cool - ik there's a lot of criticism that the show glorifies drugs but i think it just shows an accurate representation of the life of a drug addict like she admits that she knows it's bad to say. her addiction stemmed from her taking care of her very ill father and she had to give him pills and one day she took one or two i think and yeah and that's understandable bc she was really close to her father his death hurt her a lot and like the stress of taking care of him and just the whole situation ofc wld've emotionally impacted her negatively and one day she tries a pill and suddenly everything feels better so she wld obvi continue and ofc it got out of hand. there's also a really popular quote abt the 2 seconds of nothingness of smth like tht i cant remember it off hand

fav jules x nate - jules and nate had a very toxic and complicated relationship and i do not support it in any way but uhhhhthtpartwaskindahotsorry. anyways nate is typical school bully and jules is the new girl but plot twist nate who pretends to be the definition of straight is a jock has a gf etc likes or had a thing for ig mtf and jules and him formed a close relationship on some dating app and then she met him and yeah disappointment the clip is from the meeting she didn't actually stay she pushed him away and went back to rue's and rue hugged her to sleep and it was very sweet

another iconic rue quote - this was at the party i mentioned earlier where rue got a panic attack and jules' behaviour she was acting distant lately kind of contributed but jules had a lot going on with nate blackmailing her and her mom wanting to see her and then i think the night of the party she found out her mom was back in hospital so she was going thru a lot and not communicating with rue and rue felt like things were slipping and she had become sort of co dependent on jules and she was the reason she was staying clean sort of and all tht so rue took the change in behaviour hard ofc and yeah the quote was relatable

another quote from the party after her panic attack - her best friend from childhood lexi hugged her and reassured her she wasnt a burden and it ws very sweet again i love the duality of the crazy unhinged rue and the vulnerable rue it's chef's kiss

enby icon - rue usually dresses very casually and for the aforementioned dance thing she wore a suit she looked so good and jules did her makeup and she commented tht she was scared she messed with rue's gender presentation of smth like tht which is like all i need to confirm that rue is non binary UwU

chris mckay x cassie howard - kind of toxic relationship also kind of real he was older than her and the post is what he said when nate asked if they were dating there were a lot of weird stuff tht happened between them in the end she got pregnant and had an abortion and they broke up and she swore off dating for a while lol also cassie is lexi's big sister but my half a brain cell self watched the whole of season one thinking lexi was actually older and it was only when watching a fan edit on youtube i realized akjdf;ajdf;ka

rue being relatable again talking abt anxiety and why alcohol and drugs help - from personal xp and my friends' xp with anxiety like ppl can criticize the show for drug glorification but she's not lying and i believe anyone with anxiety who has a similar xp can testify to that however it's a slippery slope bc then ppl with anxiety and other mental illnesses may be inclined to also try drugs and alcohol but at the same time i think the show also portrays why you shldnt do tht so yh

rue special edition commentary - i nvr related to rue more than the things she said in this episode it was just her sitting down talking to ali her mentor and like she was spitting some real hard facts about being mentally ill and how it changes your perception of life and sometimes even when you're not in the worst spot anymore you still dont really care to live no matter how many people love you etc n felt

i live watched jules' special episode

some thoughts on rue being an unreliable narrator which she really is someone commented smth on this post tht changed my opinion of what i wrote abt not trusting her but i cant remember wht it was rn

rue manic rep - she was trying to figure out what was up with jules being distant and omg in this scene she also poured coffee into the coffee maker to make more coffee i believe smth like that but it was iconic lol but she did figure out nate was blackmailing jules and lexi was helping her

uhhhh i dont relate much to jules but these are the ways i do :(

jules' trans xp - so in her special episode speaking with her therapist she talked about performing feminity in a way to like please the male gaze and she realized she doesn't want to do tht anymore and tht like that isnt what being a girl is abt yk and the best thing abt this is usually she dresses very feminine and she wore a short skirt n crop tops on the first day of school in season 1 but for season 2's trailer she's wearing just sweats and a tee

hahahahha you might enjoy this post :)

ok this is long welp sorry

I wish you could put a read more line in an ask

#virgil rambles #tw long post #long post tw #long post #euphoria #euphoria spoilers #tw emoji #tw alchohol mention #tw suicide #just tw everything

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girlmounter · 3 years

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URGENT QUESTION TO ALL MY FOLLOWERS, I NEED YOUR FEEBACK!

Okay so here's the situation. I am asking you all to please please read this through and like, maybe tell me if I made the right decision... because I feel terrible about this. I would love it if someone told me if this is correct or wrong and I should've done something else. I'm not a popular blog, so whoever this post might reach (which is not going to be a lot of people) please please take some time out to read this through. I know it's a really long post, but I really really need your opinion on this. If you don't have the time right now, maybe just reblog it and save it for later. It would also help this post reach more people. Also please check the tags for the trigger warnings.

I have been going to a therapist for about 5 months now. My mom, as you probably know by now, is narcissistic and my dad enables her, along with my mom's parents who we live with. I have no siblings, and I just turned 17. Since we live in Asia, all you desi people know how hard society is on us when we go against our parents, who are supposed to be godly figures.

So all along, my therapist, (for confidentiality's sake we'll call him Sam, 21), has been bent on making me talk to them. I dont know why. I've tried explaining so many times that talking to my mom is not an option because 1) NARCISSISTIC PEOPLE DON'T EVER CHANGE and 2) my mom WILL use all my words against me and twist them into whatever she wants and later bring them up to bring me down. You guys with narcissistic parents know this shit too well.

It's not like I haven't ever even tried talking to them, I have! I've done it so many times, with a calm tone, in the most diplomatic way possible. There were times I tried to get the point across by crying and being desperate too. There were also times where I thought anger might work out.

It never did. It doesn't. It won't, because she is not looking for solutions or for mending the bond between us. All she wants is to infantilize me and keep me under her control forever. Mom and dad both want this. They don't ever want to let me out of their sights. They don't let me out of their sights.

A very long story short, I am supervised 24/7, I don't have much of a phone, I don't have friends, I don't have any family members who would support me, I don't have much of a family either tbh. I am monitored like crazy, gaslighted every single day, lied to, manipulated like hell, and babied to the point where it's just narcissistic infantilization and not concern anymore. To them, I'm a baby when it suits them, and I'm an adult when it suits them better that way. She doesn't care about what I think because apparently I'm a liar and to all those people out there who know the smear campaigning and the flying monkeys and the triangulation....yeah. All of that happens on a regular basis. I know I'm not providing any concrete proof and situations but please believe me. Please believe me. My memory is so shot I can't remember anything and i know it doesn't work out in my favor but please please believe me I'm telling the truth...

I have made three suicide attempts, I used to cut and was very badly addicted to it, and now I don't cut, but yeah I'll be sharing the reason in a little bit. Please hold on, this means a huge deal to me. Please don't scroll past this.

So Sam never really even had a smidge of doubt that my mom might be narcissistic, and I wasn't given the benefit of doubt either. After months of research when I myself figured that it might be narcissism, I told him and he went along with it. He does believe me now. But somehow I don't feel very understood. I dont feel better after I talk to him. I feel like my problems are trivial and that I'm just not working hard enough. I feel misunderstood and I never feel satisfied. I asked him for tips to deal with crushing loneliness and panic attacks and stuff like that, but I never receive real answers. When I asked for help with my suicidal thoughts, he just said that it's never an option and that's it. That's the only answer I got. When I asked for help with cutting, the only answer I got was that if I even tried to cut again, I'd lose him.

Like. Is that really how therapy is supposed to work?

Half of the time we just while time away, talking as if we're friends and I mean, it's a paid session. We're not very financially well off right now, what with the pandemic and everything, and we're paying him 2000 INR a week. It's a lot for us because we ain't exactly rich. That's like 10,000 INR a month.

I try to talk, I'm told that I don't stop talking and don't let him speak. When I don't speak, I'm not speaking enough. I dont feel comfortable anymore in a way that I think I should be with a therapist. I have recieved more helpful advice from actual PhD psychologists who are making videos on dealing with narcissism on YouTube. I feel more understood by them than I ever have with him. So many times I have left the session crying and hours later I'd still be stifling tears. So many times I don't feel heard and I feel like if I told him something he'd be angry. Sometimes he snaps and is like way too straightforward and it just doesn't do well with me. He doesn't support a lot of stuff that I support, like anti body shaming, especially for overweight people and stuff like LGBTQIA+ too, really. I'm mocked in an underhand way if I express that I support stuff that he doesn't really like. It's not straightforward but... I can't shake the feeling.

I do sometimes look forward to the sessions, if only because I'll have someone to talk to...but that's pretty much it. I'm not getting anything out of this. He claims that no one will understand me the way he does, and he keeps comparing my life to his, which I don't like. He says that in a way he and I both very similar and he relates to me and then proceeds to tell me about events in his life. He says that I'm his favorite client and now a good friend too, but I feel like that's not how it should be. And I do make an effort to listen to him tell me stuff about his life but...shouldn't it be the other way round?

Now I'm not saying that he is a bad person. I have loads of my own issues too; severe depression, crippling anxiety, overthinking every freaking thing, I'm like 100% sure I have complex PTSD from this childhood trauma, constant pain everywhere, crazy headaches, flashbacks, nightmares, hallucinations sometimes, and major emotion repression. I'm dealing with a million and one things right now and yes that might be causing me to feel worse about this situation than I should. I admit that I'm not exactly thinking about this in a diplomatic way...but somehow it doesn't feel right, and hence this really long post.

If you're still here, thank you so much. Your reading this is doing something that means a lot to me. Truly.

He exercises a lot, and he gave me a whole schedule to follow with the meals I should eat and the exercise I should do and somehow I never feel like I'm doing enough. If I miss out I can't tell him because he always reprimands me for messing up. I dont feel comfortable about opening up and then he forces me to do that and then when I do I don't feel better.

Lately, we'd been talking about how I need to tell my parents to their face what I feel is wrong with their actions, and how without that happening there's no point to our sessions anymore. Straight up went that if I don't talk to them on this Sunday, then we're not going to have sessions anymore.

I tried explaining to him many times how my mom will never change, how I don't want to enrage them further, how I don't want to give her more information on my life that she can use against me again...but no use.

He insisted over and over again on how she has no idea what she's doing to me, and if we just talked it out, my whole situation will be fine. This is just a huge misunderstanding.

I tried so hard to make him understand that that's not how it works for her, she doesn't want to resolve things and she'll just jump at the first chance she gets to use all my information against me, but no. I tried telling him that I have talked to her before and that I also used to think that if I just told her what they were doing wrong, then they would understand and mend their ways, I mean it took me YEARS to convince myself that it was never gonna happen! I tried it so many times and everytime I fell for this trap and everytime I regretted it but he doesn't get that! At all! That they're never gonna change!

Instead of helping me get over them, instead of telling me how to move on, instead of helping me grieve over my entire childhood... he was forcing me to talk things out with them, because if I didn't tell them I would be keeping it inside me and letting that fester would be bad.

I agree that it's not healthy for me to keep things to myself, which is why I talked to him right? And the things which are troubling me cannot be resolved with them because they refuse to change their ways!

The only thing that would come out of that family discussion is me at a disadvantage and them at an advantage by having all the latest scoop on my life and then have my mom (who is a doctor who has also done a course on CBT) psychoanalyse me even more than she does now. I'd be tailed harder. It will get worse and I know it. I've seen it and I promised myself that I would never make the same mistake of opening up to them honestly ever again. And here Sam wanted me to that very thing.

And I agreed initially, I tried convincing myself that maybe it'll work out and after all, Sam will be defending me and everything (even though he did say he would support them if he found them correct) but I didn't feel good about it. I remembered that a therapist is supposed to make you feel more at ease and let you take your own time to process through things and never force a client to do something if they had doubts about it.

And so I texted him today, and I refused. He said we won't have any more sessions, but I said it's fine. Because I don't want to go to him anymore anyway. I think I would rather have no one to talk to, than have someone belittle my experiences and just overall make me feel worse than I did when I first entered the session.

There's more stuff that was related to this, and if you guys want to know something before making your judgement of this situation, please please please ask me, message me, but please just have a bird's eye view on this whole thing and tell me if I made the right decision...please.

I would really appreciate some feedback right now.

Thank you so,so much for sticking with me till the end of this post. It means the world to me, honestly. I couldn't thank you more.

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fandom-puff · 4 years

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Rules for Requesting

What I write

Shorter works eg imagines, drabbles

One shots

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X reader fic (default is female reader- please specify if you want male/non-binary reader :))

X character fic eg: Sherlock x John

Longer/multi chapter fics- anything longer than 2 chapters will be posted on my AO3 page

Fandoms I write for:

Harry Potter

Peaky blinders

Game of thrones

Sherlock

Bridgerton

The hunger games

Criminal Minds

Doctor Who

I DO write...

Smut (both mild and spicy 😉)

AU where a character lives/dies (eg Snape lives)

Violence (inc sexual violence)

Certain mental health issues such as Depression, anxiety, SH, panic attacks, (these are the ones I’m most familiar with, as I suffer/have suffered from them. However, if you are unsure, please drop me a quick message before making your request♥️)

Things like smut and content that may be triggering to some readers such as violence/mental health issues will be put in a warning in bold at the top of any given fic, BEFORE the GIF/image

I don’t write...

Soulmate AUs

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Ships (eg: ‘hi I’m a female ravenclaw with this appearance and this personality, who do you ship me with?’) unless it’s within a follower milestone event

Detailed descriptions of suicide attempts or self harm- particularly anything that involves a noose. If necessary, it may be mentioned in a sentence in a relevant work (eg- an Arthur Shelby fic) but do not expect a full paragraph of detail. Metaphors or reference, maybe. But not actual physical description. This is something very important to me, as it is potentially something that could trigger a depressive/trauma episode due to personal experiences.

Super-detailed requests. I don’t mind some specifics eg ‘can I have HCs with a short reader who is shy and (character) hears her singing and thinks it’s beautiful’ but I do not accept SUPER detailed eg ‘... with a reader who is 5’4 with long blonde hair who likes (...) and dislikes (...) and studied (...) etc etc’ this is COMMISSION LEVEL DETAIL- as in, something written SPECIFICALLY for you which no one else can relate to.

Things to keep in mind

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I write smut. All warnings are at the top of the fic in bold so you know what’s included.

if you are using prompts from a prompt list, please make sure you mention which list it’s from. If you just say ‘2 and 6’ I won’t know what to do. ‘2 and 6 from the fluff list with x character please’ is MUCH BETTER- even better if you copy and paste the actual prompt into your request

remember your Ps and Qs- your fic writers are human beings too- we love and cherish our readers dearly, but occasionally there will be someone who is quite standoffish in requests and it puts a downer on us all. Be nice to us plz we are DELICATE

These rules are subject to change as I continue to write. If you are ever unsure, please drop me a message so I can help out ♥️♥️

Last updated: 24/6/23

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particularemu · 4 years

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Insanity | A Hwang Hyunjin Series | Part 5

Parts: [Prologue] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Epilogue]

Word Count: 4605

Type: ANGST, FLUFF

Warnings: insanity, self-harm, suicide, drugs, mentions of rape, nightmares, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, physical violence

Tag List: @alightiny @cheonsali, @jisungsjheekies, @channiesmixtape

Author’s Note: Okay, so this chapter was originally 13K words, but it felt ridiculous to post a chapter that long when all the others are around 4-7K. I decided to split that giant ass chapter up into 3 chapters, so you guys are going to get pretty regular updates over the next few days.

WARNING: I know I have this up in the warnings, but I want to make it VERY CLEAR in case this is triggering for people. This series is very dark and very horror based and since we’re starting to dive deep into the plot, very triggering topics are going to start popping up in the future chapters.

THIS CHAPTER MENTIONS RAPE. It is very brief, and it passes in conversation, but I feel like this needs to be said in case it’s triggering for some people.

“I love you!”

Hyunjin’s heart skipped a beat at your sudden confession. Surely you didn’t love love him right? There was no way…

Hyunjin pursed his lips as his mind swarmed with possibilities. There was a real chance that you didn’t actually love him.

There’s this thing called The Suspension Bridge Effect — where trauma victims mistake the feeling of trust, security, and admiration for a feeling of love. All of your small confessions — your little phrases, “I trust you,” “I adore you,” and “I care about you,” could be a HUGE sign that you just felt safe with him. Odds are… you’ve fallen into this trap.

But if you really did love him…

God, if you really did love him, Hyunjin would have to admit to himself that he loves you. Then he could finally kiss you, hold you, and love you the way you should be loved but… it would also force the two of you to keep your relationship hidden from the institution — which would be really difficult judging by the nosey people who work in the building. You two would either have to keep your relationship a secret, or he would have to work hard and come up with an escape plan, so the two of you could finally be happy out in the real world.

But what if this feeling wasn’t love? What if Hyunjin loved you as a friend? The boy never truly experienced love the way many other people do when they’re younger. His family didn’t take care of him — he took care of himself. He didn’t fall in love as a teenager — he studied to become a doctor.

After thinking a bit longer Hyunjin decided that no — no he didn’t love you in that way. You were his friend — a patient, not a lover. Besides, you were probably just telling him you loved him as a friend. “I love you too sweetheart.” Hyunjin smiled softly. “I’m glad you trust me. I promise I won’t let anything else happen to you.” Hyunjin ran his thumb across your cheek. “You’re the best patient I’ve ever had.”

Oh…

Did you just get friend-zoned? Well actually, the two of you had a professional relationship, so you technically got patient-zoned.

You were still just a patient in his eyes. Every fiber of your being was fighting the urge to facepalm and yet… you were completely and utterly embarrassed about blurting out your love for the beautiful man. Hyunjin clearly didn’t understand what you were telling him. That boy was a genius but he’s got to be the world’s most dense guy.

Well, you couldn’t fault him for it. From what Hyunjin has told you, he’s been alone most of his life. He was either taking care of his mother or studying to be a doctor so he could dedicate his life to helping those who suffer from mental illnesses. Hyunjin was such an amazing guy. He was so relatable, yet — so untouchable. You wouldn't be surprised if Hyunjin confessed that he wasn’t interested in romantic relationships.

You would still love him anyway.

Sure… you could just confess once more — hold his cheeks in your hands, plant a kiss on his lips, tell the boy that you loved him more than life itself — tell him that he’s the reason you’re alive to see the moon rise and the stars sparkle. You could do all of that but… you wouldn’t dare ruin the soft moment. You enjoyed the feeling of his arms around your body, the feeling of his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your arm, listening to the soft thumping of his heart as you curled up in his chest. You didn’t want to ruin that. Besides, if he didn’t love you back, you just dodged a bullet.

“Can we just talk?” You mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward at the silence. “Your voice sounds nice.”

As if you could be more obvious…

“Sure. What do you want to talk about?” Hyunjin smiled and ran his fingers through your hair. The soft strands slipped effortlessly through his fingers, making his heart swell.

You sighed, searching your brain for any answers. No particular topics came to mind — you really just wanted to hear his soft voice as he talked about everything and anything. “Anything.” You leaned closer in his embrace as you grabbed his other hand, tracing one of the veins with the tip of your finger.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile as you fiddled with his hand. It felt oddly nice, being this close with someone. Throughout his life, Hyunjin never really felt physical affection. His father was out of the picture from a young age, having committed suicide when he was a young boy, and his mother lost her mind soon after. Most of his childhood was spent taking care of his mother, and/or making sure she doesn’t kill herself. When he wasn’t taking care of others, he had his nose in a book. Feeling soft touches, hugs, and small caresses were brand new to him — and he enjoyed it more than he was willing to admit.

In fact — the boy was practically touch-starved. Every single time you had your arms around him, Hyunjin felt safe, cared for, and loved. When your arms weren’t on him, he felt lost. “I want to hear about you.” Hyunjin smiled softly. “What can you tell me about yourself?”

You paused for a second, fingers stilling on Hyunjin’s hands as you tried to remember something — anything that would give him an idea of who you were. Unfortunately, your mind was blank. There was nothing. You couldn’t remember a single thing about yourself. “I don’t remember much.” You sighed. “I guess there is one thing.” Your fingers started to move against Hyunjin’s hand once more. Wait... was that weird? You quickly dropped his hand, mumbling a quick, “Sorry.”

“Hm?” Hyunjin’s brow raised as he looked down at your hands. “No, keep going. It feels nice.” Hyunjin slid his hand back into yours as he asked, “What do you remember?”

You pressed your thumb into Hyunjin’s palm gently as you kept talking. “I keep seeing flashes of something.” You sighed. “I think it’s a kidnapping…” You trailed off, trying to find the right words. “It might be mine.”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched as the words left your lips.

So you were kidnapped…

Of course, there was a chance that this was just a frequent recurring nightmare you were having, but… Hyunjin always had a feeling you didn’t belong in the institution. Someone at the asylum kidnapped you and brought you to the hospital… Who could that be?

“I always get a really bad headache and I get scared when I think about it.” You paused, taking a deep breath to control your emotions. “Hyunjin… I’m scared to find the truth.”

You were terrified. What if you found out your entire life was a lie? Your mind was filled with memories of the institution — almost none were from your past. You could remember meeting Minho, Chan, and Changbin. You also remembered the day your eyes met Hyunjin’s — the chocolate orbs driving deep within your soul immediately.

“That’s understandable sweetheart.” Hyunjin’s arms tightened around your frame. “Do you…” The boy paused, wondering if he should even ask. “Do you remember murdering someone?”

“No.” Your eyes welled up with tears. “No, I don’t.” Your breathing started to speed up as you wiped your eyes, hoping to hide any traces of tears. You were so sick of crying, sick of being afraid, of being alone… You just wanted to get out of Rosewood so you could live a normal life. That wouldn’t be possible if you were a murderer — and if you were a murderer… God, that means you’re a horrible person. “Hyunjin what if I did?”

Hyunjin rested his chin on your head. “Shh, it’s okay sweetheart. You aren’t a horrible person.” Hyunjin rubbed soothing circles on your back with his thumb, hoping the small gesture would make you feel less afraid. “We don’t know anything right now. There’s no use in worrying about it until we figure out what happened. For all we know, Dr. Douglas could have been lying.”

“Can we please talk about something else?” You mumbled into his chest. You needed to change the subject before you wound up having another attack. “Tell me something about you.” You paused, wondering what to ask him. “Something deep.”

Wait… would he even want to talk to you about his life? Sure, you tell Hyunjin everything but, he was your doctor. Maybe it’s weird for a doctor to share their stories with a patient… Fuck, you never should have asked. “Only if you want to though.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Hyunjin smiled. “It’s only fair. I’m always in your business.” Hyunjin chuckled, the deep laughter sending a wave of calm over your being.

“Yeah, but you’re my doctor.” You giggled, “I’m just nosey.”

Hyunjin smiled softly, eyes crinkling as he mentally snapped a picture of your bright smile. Ah, but you were right. He was your DOCTOR. Nothing more, nothing less. Hyunjin needed to start treating you more like a patient.

But was it that wrong to be close with your patient? You were getting so much better thanks to the way he treated you. But was he treating you like this because he cared about your mental stability? Or was it something deeper? Perhaps it was just pure instinct. Hyunjin couldn’t tell.

No… Hyunjin knew exactly what this was, he was just in denial about it. He loved you with all his heart. He trusted you with all this information. Something deep inside him WANTED to tell you everything.

“You’re not nosey.” Hyunjin chuckled. “I guess I’ll tell you about me and my family.” Hyunjin took a deep breath, scanning his brain for memories worth sharing. “When I was young, my mother discovered that I was a bit different from all the other kids.” Hyunjin smiled. “I was reading at a much higher level, I could solve complex math problems in my head, and I knew the entire English dictionary back to front.” Hyunjin’s eyes crinkled as he grinned at you. “That was when we found out that I was classified as a genius.”

“Wow.” You smiled. “That must have made school pretty easy.”

You couldn’t remember anything about your school days. Perhaps you were a closet genius? Nah, that wasn’t possible. Judging by how complacent you are in the institution, you were probably one of those kids who went through the motions just so they could get out of school.

“Yeah…” Hyunjin paused. “It comes with its own set of problems. My father worked in a dead-end job. From what I heard, he was always unhappy.” The boy sighed. “One day he just decided to end it all.” Hyunjin pursed his lips. “I was five-years-old when I found him dead on the bathroom floor surrounded by tons of pills.” Hyunjin’s hand ran across his jaw as if to wipe away any emotion from his face. “He always smiled when he was around me, so it felt like his death was out of the blue.”

“God, Hyunjin.” You looked up at him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” You adjusted your position, straddling his hips so you could hug him.

“Thank you.” Hyunjin wrapped his arms around your frame. “But don’t worry. This happened such a long time ago. It doesn’t really bother me now. Besides, I don’t really think he was my real father. I didn’t look like him at all.” Hyunjin chuckled darkly.

“Jinnie, he was still your father.” You pulled away to look him in the eyes. “That shit doesn’t just go away. It always sticks with you.”

Hyunjin’s cheeks flushed slightly as he pulled you closer. “Thank you. I still had my mother at the time.”

“Had?” Your face fell. “Is your mother?”

“No.” Hyunjin interrupted you. “My mother is alive.” He smiled. “I miss her very much.”

“How did she handle your father’s death?” You asked.

Hyunjin’s eyes shifted away from your gaze. “Not well.” He sighed. “Her anxiety slowly started to eat her away. When I was young, I didn’t really have any friends because I was either studying or taking care of my mom. It was my job to make sure she didn’t kill herself.”

Oh, God…

That shouldn’t have been Hyunjin’s job. Your heart broke for the boy. He never had a chance to be a kid — to go fall out of a tree and break his arm, to play tag with all the kids on the playground, to enjoy a bunch of toys during Christmas. The poor boy was trying to keep what was left of his family together.

“Hyunjin, you’re such a good person.” You rested your hands on his cheeks. “Please remember that.” God, you wanted to kiss him right now. “Minho and I couldn’t imagine a life without you.”

Hyunjin froze. Sure, Minho had been a good friend to him so far, until… Until it really mattered. Until he was about to risk it all to break you out of the padded room — then Minho decided to bail. Suddenly his reputation at the institution mattered more than justice.

Was Minho really trustworthy? At this point, Hyunjin didn’t know. Anxiety was slowly bubbling in his chest. If Minho really wanted to break out of the asylum, he wouldn’t care about his reputation. What if the older boy was planning to rat Hyunjin out?

Part of Hyunjin knew he was being unreasonable. Of course, it would look suspicious if all the doctors started to act out. They need someone on the inside to help them escape that godforsaken place. Still…

What were Minho’s intentions?

For the first time in his life, Hyunjin had a friend — someone he trusted with his life. He’d be devastated if Minho decided to rat them out. At Rosewood, who knew what would happen. With all the trouble Hyunjin has caused, he wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up dead in a ditch.

“Hey, you okay?” You tilted your head, the cute movement shaking Hyunjin out of his negative thoughts.

A sad smile took over Hyunjin’s features. “Minho and I just had a little spat.”

“I’m sure you two will figure it out.” You hugged Hyunjin once more. “Anyone can tell that the two of you care about each other.”

“I hope you’re right.” Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile as your body grew heavy on top of him. “Did you fall asleep on me?” Hyunjin chuckled when he heard no response. His eyes drifted shut as he held you close, exhaustion making him pass out underneath you.

---------------------

After having back-to-back shifts, Hyunjin was exhausted. He slowly trudged back to the dorms, ready to plop in bed and sleep for a whole damn day. Thank God Chan agreed to cover him for the night shift so he could get some much-needed sleep.

Hyunjin opened the door to the dorms and headed down the hallway, eyes widening when he spotted Minho unlocking his door. The older boy looked worn out, stressed, and upset — like he’d break down and cry any minute. If Hyunjin wasn’t so tired, he’d consider hiding behind the corner until Minho disappeared in his room, but frankly… Hyunjin was ready to drop any second. The boy strolled down the hall, heart dropping when Minho’s eyes landed on him. “Hey.” Minho waved, a fake smile taking over his features as he turned towards Hyunjin. “Long day?”

“Long day and night.” Hyunjin chuckled as he entered the code to his room, mentally cursing at himself when his index finger pressed the wrong number. “I stayed for the day shift after breaking her out of solitary confinement.”

“Wow.” Minho’s brows creased as he fiddled with his thumbs. “Do you mind if I come in for a bit.” Minho paused. “I know you’re tired… I won’t stay long.”

“Sure.” Hyunjin entered the correct code to his room, sighing as he pushed the heavy door open.

Minho walked in and plopped on the bed, ruffling the neat blankets — something that would have seriously irked Hyunjin if he wasn’t so tired. The boy was known for keeping things nice and neat. Every single morning, he made the bed, put his clothes in the hamper, tidied up, and then every night Minho would pop in and disrupt the clean environment by bouncing on the bed and checking out every picture frame Hyunjin had in the room. Oh, but Hyunjin enjoyed the boy’s company.

“Yeah, make yourself at home.” Hyunjin chuckled as he neatly hung his jacket in the closet. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping tonight anyways.”

Minho smiled — a genuine smile that made Hyunjin feel a little bit better. “Don’t be salty.” Minho’s face dropped as his gaze shifted to his hands. “I wanted to make sure we’re good.”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin figured it’d be best to play dumb vs. telling the boy how frustrated he was.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Minho scoffed. “You left the room all pissed off. I didn’t want to upset you but —”

“I get it.” Hyunjin pulled his uniform shirt off, tossing the garment into the laundry hamper neatly tucked in the corner.

“No, you —” Minho paused, eyes widening as he scanned Hyunjin’s body. “Hey, are you taking care of yourself?”

Hyunjin frowned as he looked down at his body. Sure he’s thinned out a bit, but he’s had a lot going on. “Yeah.”

“No, you’re not.” Minho rolled his eyes and stood up. “I’ll be right back.” Hyunjin sighed as Minho ran out the door, cocking it open with one of Hyunjin’s shoes so the boy wouldn’t have to let him in again.

Hyunjin quickly pulled on one of his hoodies, yanking the hood off his head before he slipped out of his work trousers. After throwing on some sweats, Hyunjin plopped in bed, fighting to keep his eyes open while he waited for Minho to get back from doing… whatever he was doing.

Hyunjin was fighting a losing battle.

“Oi, wake up.” Minho smacked Hyunjin’s shoulder, startling the boy awake.

“I wasn’t asleep, I was just resting my eyes.” Hyunjin chuckled as he sat up, yawning.

“Eat this.” Minho handed Hyunjin a bowl of ramen, decorated with various seasonings, hard-boiled eggs, and tons of vegetables and meat.

“Did you seriously cook this for me?” Hyunjin took a big bite of the noodles, closing his eyes at the delicious taste. “It’s really good, thank you.”

“Well, I put it together, but don’t give me too much credit. I just fancied up the packaged stuff.” Minho waved off Hyunjin’s compliment. He sat beside Hyunjin as the younger boy devoured the food. “I know you want to take care of her, but you need to make sure you’re eating properly. You’ll drop dead on the ground if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Hyunjin sighed. “I know. You’re right.” Hyunjin set the empty bowl on his night-table, instantly dropping his head on Minho’s shoulder. “I just feel like something bad will happen if I leave her side — even for one second.”

“If you need a break, come get me.” Minho leaned his head on top of Hyunjin’s. “I’ll watch her for you. You can trust me.”

“Can I?” Hyunjin’s heart shattered as he sat up. “Oh my God, I didn’t —”

“No, I get it.” Minho chuckled at Hyunjin’s pure panic. “I get it. It looks bad.” Minho sighed. “This institution is more fucked up than you know.”

“What do you know?” Hyunjin’s eyes bore into Minho’s.

“When I first started working there, Jisung was my best friend.” Minho sighed.

“Wait… Like your new patient Jisung?” Hyunjin’s eyes widened.

Minho nodded. “Actually, Jisung has been my main patient for years. I took over David’s care as well because his caretaker disappeared.” Minho pursed his lips. “Jisung and I found one of our coworkers, Dr. Greg, arguing with Dr. Henry in the hallway. Dr. Greg was trying to quit and Dr. Henry told him that wasn’t an option.” Minho sighed. “Security came in and took out his knees Hyunjin. They almost beat him to death.”

“Oh my God.” Hyunjin rested his hand on Minho’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“The next week, Dr. Greg was a patient in a wheelchair.” Minho chuckled darkly. “No one fucking questioned it. Jisung and I decided that the institution was fucked up and we needed to leave.” He sighed. “We knew quitting and walking out wasn’t an option, based off what happened to Dr. Greg, so we came up with a plan to escape and we set a date to leave.”

“Jisung found another doctor who wanted to get out of there, so he met with us a week before we left and changed up our plan a little bit.” Minho sighed. “I didn’t really trust him, and he changed our plan…” Minho trailed off. “I was afraid that he was sharing our plan with security or something. I couldn’t stop seeing flashbacks of Dr. Greg getting beat near death.” Minho’s hands shook as he grabbed Hyunjin’s forearm. “I decided I wasn’t going to go with them.”

“You were scared you’d get killed.” Hyunjin held the boy’s hand. “That’s understandable.”

“Jisung didn’t think so.” Minho scoffed. “He got upset and he said that he’d leave without me. I told him that was fine.” Minho started to tear up a bit. “I tried to look out for him the best I could, but when he tried to climb the gate, the guards found him.”

“Oh, God…” Hyunjin trailed off. He knew this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending.

“I watched my best friend get beaten and I couldn’t find the courage to go help him.” Tears ran down Minho’s face.

“No.” Hyunjin grabbed the boy’s shoulders. “Don’t you do that to yourself. If you went down there, you could have gotten killed.”

“Even that would have been better than me standing there and watching him take all those punches.” Minho wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“No. Don’t say shit like that.” Hyunjin pulled the boy into his chest, comforting him the best he could. “I would have been murdered the first week if I didn’t have you.”

Minho couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah probably.”

“So don’t say stuff like that.” Hyunjin rubbed soothing circles on Minho’s back, making the boy’s eyes drift shut.

“You’re a natural comforter aren’t you?” Minho chuckled, trying to change the subject. “You’re good at this.”

“I’ve had to be.” Hyunjin smiled sadly. “I used to have to do this for my mother when I was a kid…” Hyunjin trailed off. “If I didn’t, she’d lose her mind.” Hyunjin paused. “She’d get violent and hurt me…” He couldn’t find the right words. “But it wasn’t her fault. She had PTSD from the time she was raped.”

“Oh my God, Hyunjin I’m sorry.” Minho sat up, looking the younger boy in the eyes. Hyunjin looked lost, sad, and afraid.

Hyunjin’s eyes dropped down to his lap. “I think I’m a rape baby.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “What? No that can’t be true.”

“There were so many signs Minho.” Hyunjin pursed his lips. “I don’t look like my father, my dad wanted nothing to do with me, my mother was afraid of me.” He scoffed. “I had to put her in a home because she tried to kill me one day.” Hyunjin leaned back against the headboard. “I must look just like him.”

“Is that why you took this job?” Minho’s brows creased.

“Yep,” Hyunjin mumbled. “I could work anywhere, but I couldn’t afford rent since they were all entry-level jobs.” He sighed. “This one gave me room and board and enough money to survive.”

“Fuck.” Minho sighed. “We’re both fucked up but you take the cake.”

“What a fucked up competition to win.” Hyunjin chuckled darkly.

“You know you’re nothing like your father, right?” Minho rested his hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “If your theory is true, you’re nothing like him.”

Hyunjin smiled at Minho. “Thanks.”

“Seriously. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met, you care so much about others, you’re the prettiest guy on earth, and you’re super smart.” Minho tried to comfort the boy the best he could.

“So are we going to kiss now or what?” Hyunjin burst out into a fit of giggles when Minho pushed him off the bed.

“I try to be nice and you gotta do me dirty.” Minho crossed his arms over his chest.

“Thank you.” Hyunjin smiled and hopped back on the bed. “Can you stay the night?” He felt awkward asking the boy to stay over, but he really didn’t want to be alone. “I feel…”

“You don’t need to give me a reason.” Minho chuckled. “Just give me clothes to wear and I’ll stay the night.”

Hyunjin laughed. “Just go through that dresser over there and pick out whatever you want lazy bones.”

Minho panned through the dresser before picking a pair of shorts and a hoodie. After changing Minho plopped next to Hyunjin. “I hope you know that you’re a ray of hope in that damn hospital.”

“Hm?” Hyunjin cocked his brow. “How so? It feels like all I’ve done is fuck everything up.”

“I always figured I’d stay at the institution until I died, but you gave me hope. After you showed up I started to think that maybe, we have a chance. Maybe we can live normal lives outside this place.” Minho sighed. “I miss my family.”

“I bet.” Hyunjin sighed. “I’m scared too.”

“Who said I was afraid?” Minho scoffed.

“Your eyes.” Hyunjin laughed. “Your eyes are the windows to your soul. I can always tell how you’re feeling through your eyes.”

“Well damn.” Minho chuckled. “That was straight-up poetic.”

“I try.” Hyunjin shrugged. “But when it comes to Y/N, I fumble like an idiot.”

“Oh?” Minho leaned forward and wiggled his eyebrows. “Did something happen?”

“Well, she told me she loves me.” Hyunjin grinned, a light blush coating his cheeks. “I don’t think she meant it in that way though. I’m happy she trusts me.”

Minho physically facepalmed. “You’re kidding me right?”

“What?” Hyunjin chuckled.

“You realize she like, love loves you right? Like, she wants to make out with you under the stars and marry your dumb-ass and live the rest of her life with you.” Minho rolled his eyes and leaned back into the headboard. “Oh my God, you seriously don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” Hyunjin flushed darker. “She doesn’t love me like that.”

Minho grabbed Hyunjin’s shoulders and shook him. “Yes, she does!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter.” Hyunjin sighed. “I don’t love her in that way.”

“Bullshit,” Minho smirked. “You grin like an idiot every time you talk about her. Plus, what you do for her isn’t normal.”

“I would do those things for any patient.” Hyunjin chuckled.

“Nope. I doubt you would.” Minho laughed. “Please just admit that you love her so Chan and I can stop trying to get you guys together.”

“Oh my God, please tell me you haven’t —” Hyunjin groaned.

“Yep.” Minho chuckled. “I’ve been telling her how awesome you are during my shifts.” He laughed. “I’ve hyped you up, so grow some balls and kiss her or something.”

“It’s complicated.” Hyunjin giggled. “But thank you.”

A comfortable silence passed, until Minho asked, “Do you want to meet Jisung?”

Hyunjin smiled. “Of course. Can she come?”

Minho chuckled. “Yes, the love of your life can come too.”

“Hey, she’s not the love of my life.” Hyunjin couldn’t stop the stupid grin that took over his face.

“Mhmm. Keep telling yourself that.” Minho chuckled as he laid down, turning his back to Hyunjin. “Get some sleep so we can function tomorrow.”

Hyunjin laid beside Minho, the feeling of the older boy’s back against his being oddly comforting. He couldn’t help but wonder if Minho was right. Did he love you?

Yes — yes he did, but how on earth was he going to tell you? Before Hyunjin could come up with an answer, exhaustion took over, putting the boy to sleep instantly.

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lukehemss · 3 years

Text

( i will follow you into the dark - luke & ashton. )

WHO: luke hemmings & ashton irwin & michael clifford.

WHEN: 03/13/21

SUMMARY: luke and ashton have a heart-to-heart after luke wakes up.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of a car accident, mentions of drunk driving, cursing, hospital setting.

@xash-bloomx & @clifford5sosx

Ashton: Luke was supposed to be home at midnight. Now he knew better than to truly count on that. It could be one or two, but there was also the prospect of dinner, or maybe Ashton just wanted him home. He tried not to be the clingy boyfriend, but he didn't want to overdo and wake old habits when they went out to party. He also didn't want to tell Luke what he thought he should do since it was a personal choice. There were just a lot of things on his mind lately. He wasn't sure what set him off the way it did when Luke didn't show up, but there was something that felt off. As time wore on, a cute text became more frantic, and soon he was a ball of panic. By pure luck he remembered how to use the Find My app to locate his missing boyfriend. He could feel his heart tighten in his chest. The hospital. He knew. There was something, likely the paranoia that came with a missing boyfriend, that told him Luke wasn't a visitor. Michael had agreed to pick him up as Ashton was making the phone calls to find Luke's room, confirming what he feared the most. While Mikey tried to convince him that Luke wasn't dead, Ashton's mind was doing a thousand miles an hour, trying to fend off the worst thoughts. Mikey had to help him in the car. He actually didn't remember the trip to the hospital at all. He's only remember that it was really one of the first times Michael's car wasn't full of chatter or music. He stumbled out, dressed in sweats and a hoodie and made it to reception to find the room. He was informed that visiting hours were over, but since this was a new patient just brought in, they allowed the frantic boyfriend to go down the hall. Ashton informed the nursing staff immediately that he would be staying.Once he had heard about the injuries and was finally left alone, he pulled up his chair and dropped his head against Luke's for a minute, avoiding the wires and tubes still connecting him to machines. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not sure why he was apologizing at all. The tears fell that he'd been holding in. He was exceptional at keeping his feelings bottled up, but now they weren't about to be contained. "Why, baby? I love you. I do. You even said that to me. Why?" He really wasn't going to get an answer very soon. According to the next nurse to check, the morphine would keep him out for several hours. Ashton curled up in the chair and she brought a pillow and blanket. It didn't matter that he was entirely too tall and cramped. This was home for the duration. He wasn't sure when he drifted off, fading in and out when the staff wasn't checking up on Luke, but he did manage a little sleep.

Luke: luke was exhausted.it had been approximately fourteen hours since he had arrived at the hospital, a mixture of morphine and other various pain meds keeping him under from the moment he had been wheeled past the ER doors. his nose had been set and his arm had been placed in a sling to keep him from moving and disturbing his broken collarbone. his once flawless face was adorned with stitches, a chest tube settled between his ribs on his naked torso. to say he looked like hell was an understatement, but his appearance was the last of his worries. as he woke, glad the hospital lights had been dimmed, luke’s first worry was alex. his friend had been seriously hurt and it was entirely luke’s fault. the guilt squeezed at his heart, reminding him over and over about how bad the previous night had been. he had fucked up. bad. mouth dry and throat sore, luke could only assume that he had a breathing tube in earlier but it had been removed at some point during the day. thankfully. “ -- alex?” he mumbled, still hazy from the drugs in his system. blue eyes flickered around the room, circled in a ring of a bruises. yeah, his nose had definitely broke from the impact. “alex?” he lifted his head, careful not to disturb the tubes and wires that wrapped around his body like vines. it wasn’t alex that his gaze settled on, but ashton.fuck. fuck. fuck. if luke didn’t hate himself before, then he did now. “ashton?” he didn’t dare raise his voice above a whisper, afraid that speaking louder would only unleash the wrath he was so afraid of. he deserved it, though. he deserved the anger and the hurt. he knew this. “fuck, ash. i’m so sorry.”

Ashton: Ashton didn't really know about Alex, or that they had been together. Not that way, but hearing the other name as the first one out of Luke's mouth had an impact that wouldn't be quite evident by his face. Ashton was the master of hiding pain. Listen to the album, then look at his face. The two didn't match, but they did. A green eye opened under the dark curls that flopped over it. He brushed it away and sat up. He swallowed thickly and shoved that lump in his throat back down. "Hey. You're awake." He took the unsuspended hand, and held it. All those tubed looked terrible. "It's okay." No, it really wasn't. "They say you are going to be fine. The wreck was pretty bad." He didn't know exactly. Technically he wasn't family, so they couldn't tell him everything. "Do you remember what happened?" He looked down after a moment, unable to handle all of this. He knew Michael was angry, but he still lurked around the hospital. Michael was like a sentinel, always the vigilant watchman until it was time to attack. His presence had helped a lot.

Luke: "i'm awake." luke confirmed, letting his head rest back down against the soft pillows. his head was killing him, a faint throb always present. it would've been so easy to slip back under and let sleep claim him again, but he didn't dare. he wanted to be with ashton. "mmm. i wish i didn't, but yeah. left jack's party and hit a cement pole on the way home." he gave ashton's hand a squeeze, thinking over his next words. luke's main worry, aside from alex and his condition, was ashton's reaction. "i was ... uhm." he paused, swallowing. fuck. luke didn't want there to be any secrets between them, but it killed him to be truthful. "i was drunk behind the wheel."

Ashton: Ashton swiped at his cheek where a stray tear had fallen. He was angry. Really he was hurt, but there wasn't much difference. He was being selfish and stupid and he chastised himself silently. Of course the hour of sleep that he had dozed off wasn't doing him any favors. Green eyes stared back at his boyfriend while he chewed the inside of his lip until he tasted blood. Slowly he let go, and stood and walked to the window. For a minute, he just couldn't look at Luke. It was way too much. He wasn't surprised. He was more surprised that it hadn't happened sooner, but he was hoping that it would change while things were good between them. They were both healthy, or in a much better place, so those things would follow. He was wrong. He was at a complete loss for words. "You are going to be fine. That's the biggest thing, but then what?"

Luke: luke's fingers curled around the open air before he let his hand fall back to his side. there it was -- that moment of abandonment that he feared. he had always been his own worst enemy. emotions were buried in drugs and liquor, keeping himself comfortably numb. he always had to be the life of the party, always had to make sure everyone had their eyes on him. it was finally catching up to him. he watched ashton walk towards the window, silent before he let his own eyes focus on the wires that were taped to the back of his hand. he was nervous, wondering if he'd be leaving the hospital single and more alone than ever. "-- then what?" he frowned, finally glancing up at the back of ashton's head. "then i get to go home. i get to fix this mess."

Ashton: Ashton didn't have any plans on leaving, but he just couldn't look, couldn't touch or anything right now. He was overloading, but he wasn't going anywhere. He'd stay, kind of like the Greyhound in his song. He ran around and around never getting anywhere until Luke broke them up. He rested panes on the cool glass. He forced himself to breathe. "What about me? What about us? Didn't we even matter to you? I swear," he turned to look, catching his breath at the miserable mess that he was, "Were you gonna just leave me like that, or go to jail or what? Then what? Do you even think before you do stupid shit what it could do to us, or does it even fucking matter?" There were tears that came and slipped past the defenses.

Luke: there it was. there was the verbal lashing he had been expecting. luke glanced away, taking in each and every single word. usually such anger would be met with his own, but he didn’t have it in him. ashton had every right to be angry and all luke could do was sit there and take it. “ash...” his chest ached, but not from anything related to his injuries. “i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.” he could say it until he was blue in the face, but he wasn’t sure it mattered. ashton deserved better. “of course you matter. you’re the only one that matters. i never meant to hurt you. i wasn’t thinking. i—“ anxiety took over, that empty feeling in his chest very present. “i never wanted you to doubt that. i never wanted you to question if i cared. it literally kills me that you are. i just — i understand if you don’t want to be here.”

Ashton: Ashton looked at him and exhaled, close to a sob that wasn't as hidden as he liked. "You don't get it, do you? I'm not leaving. I love you." His voice caught and he shook his head. "I fucking love you. I can't - ." His hand was in his hair, pulling down curls to cover tears. "You're always sorry."

Michael: "Hey," came a voice from the other side. Michael had two cups of coffee. He came around the bed to Ashton, seeing the upset in his face. "Take this. Go calm down for a few." He wrapped a large hand around the back of Ashton's head and kissed his forehead. "Give me a few okay." Ashton seemed reluctant, but he left, watching Luke every second before he hit the door. "Good morning, Sunshine," Mikey smiled sarcastically. "What is up with the look on his face?"

Luke: luke knew the arrival of michael wasn’t good news. he knew his friend, knew how he reacted to such situations. he bit his tongue, the familiar taste of blood returning. “he’s upset with me. and understandably so.” he replied, silently trying his best to calm down. it felt like everything was slipping through his fingers, getting closer to tears with each passing second. he needed to relax, needed to remember how to breathe. “how long have you been here?” luke asked after a second, eyes on michael.

Michael: Michael also looked pretty ragged. They were the oldest friends. Michael was the original rebel, the punk that didn't fit in except here with this band. He was the awkward turtle, but also the protector. He sipped at the mocha, and rubbed tired eyes. "He loves you. You scared the fuck out of him. You should have seen him though. He came flying in here. If I didn't let him out of the car, he was going to jump out and run in on his own. He was up here before I even came in the door, and he was telling the nurses he was staying the night." He exhaled and came a little closer. "I've been around, mostly drinking coffee and doing some puzzles that someone left on a table. Oh and late night infomercials. They're great." He took another drink. "Now what the fuck would you have done if that was Ashton in the car with you?"

Luke: luke didn’t bother with the other drink, too distracted and distraught to really care. “thank you for driving him.” luke replied, forcing a small smile. he was at least thankful for that much. “why are you asking me that, mikey? i would’ve fucking hated myself for that mistake. you know that.” luke shifted in his bed, uncomfortable with the entire situation. “it wasn’t him and i’m thankful for that. but it was my friend and i’ll have to live with that regret for the rest of my life.” he could feel the emotion building again, hate blooming deep within him. not towards anyone but himself. “i fucked up.”

Michael: "Because I don't believe you," Michael shrugged. His aloof attitude could rattle people. He didn't show anger until it exploded and hands were thrown. "See I thought about him before I got him in a car, or got in a car myself. I knew he couldn't drive because he wouldn't be paying attention, and all he wanted was to see you." He shook his head, taking a drink again. "When do you stop being a selfish prick? Maybe that's the real question. You do whatever the fuck and you don't care who you hurt then go back and apologize for your mistake. Dude, that was a fucking choice, not a mistake. Your friend could have been Ashton, or Cal, or me. I wish them the best, but fuck, you just don't fucking get it. Being sorry doesn't make up for you if that other person is dead because of you. We all party and get all wasted, but you are just fucking stupid about it." That was Mikey, blunt and to the point, protective of Ash who was a mental health twin in a way.

Luke: luke didn't know why, but everything always seemed so much worse coming from michael. maybe it was the bluntness of it all. "you're not wrong." he rubbed at his face, careful not to bump any of the stitches. "i get it -- i'm a selfish prick. i ruin everything for everyone, and i'm ruining ashton now. you got your point across, so you can go now." maybe he was being rude and selfish, but he was exhausted. fighting with his band mates was the last thing he wanted right now. "we can argue it out when i get home, mikey. just ... not right now."

Michael: If that was all it took, that would be great, but it wasn't. Michael was way too stubborn for that. "Look at you playing the sympathy card. I ruin everything. Shut the fuck up and listen. What you do, all this bullshit, affects all of us. This band is all I've got, and honestly, it saved me. My head was never in the best place, and here we are, and I'm doing this good because we've stuck together. Calum too. We didn't know about Ashton until after that album then whoa, there's shit going on. I knew a little but not all. We all need this, and you give no fucks. You can decide to give a fuck after you've already fucked up. Now you lay there and fucking think about it." He was about to walk away and then turned back. "He really does love you. He won't leave here until you leave. You better know what you have. Sierra and the thing were temporary. Ashton - you better fucking fix this." He turned again, "I'm going to check on Alex then I'm going to take a shower."

Luke: luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes, keeping his gaze straight as he listened. michael was right about it all. maybe luke was trying to play the sympathy card, but he hadn’t been lying when he said he was exhausted. he’d been awake for only a short time, but he felt entirely drained both emotionally and physically. “thank you for your input, mikey.” he mumbled, watching as the other headed towards the door. he was slightly happy that his friend was leaving, not quite enjoying being called out and put in his place. “i’ll fix it. i promise.” he would stay true to his word, of course. he wouldn’t lose ashton. he couldn’t.

Ashton: Mikey walked out and combed a hand through his hair. He leaned against the wall and breathed. He didn't like being a hard-ass. Hated it in fact. He was angry, but deflating fast. Where were they when he struggled? Likely right where they always were when he wasn't talking about it. Fuck it. He did what he had to do. He needed to go sleep somewhere. He'd probably have to find Cal first. "Are you alright?" Ashton asked, looking at the blond who was adjusting the hat on his head. "Good," he said, but the real answer didn't matter anyway. He'd live. "He's waiting for you. Sleep when he sleeps, okay. I'll text you later." Ashton was back in the room a moment later. "Hey," he said. "Looks like you didn't lose any more blood." With Mikey who knew what would happen. "The nurse was going to bring you a tray of liquids in a little bit. She warned me against smuggling in the good stuff."

Luke: the sound of the door opening made luke glance up, not surprised to see ashton had returned. it was nice to have him back, but luke didn’t really have any words. he let himself get comfy, pulling the blankets over his torso. “thankfully. think he wanted to punch me, but maybe he’s saving it for when i get home.” he chuckled, able to find a bit of humour in it all. “sweet of her. hopefully i can find my appetite for it. if not, at least i’ll be getting a jump start on my tour diet.”

Ashton: Ashton really had needed a minute to just breathe. All the emotions were swelling, making him want to dive into a bar until he couldn't see straight. He pulled the chair over and reclaimed the hand that he let go of. His head leaned against what he could. He was angry, but he loved his boyfriend, and likely had for years - really had for years. The last two weeks he'd been so happy, just staying together. There were concerns, and this brought them all to the front. They had similar demons, and a deep fear of being left alone, and a very similar crutch in the booze and other things. "Everyone's got room for Jello," he mumbled. "I'll help. Maybe the nurse thought I was cute enough to bring me a tray too." He tipped his head up to look into blue eyes. "I'm gonna have Mikey bring back some clothes."

Luke: there was a sense of relief when ashton took his hand again, emotions extra high. luke had been convinced he was going to be left alone, that his band had truly had enough of his bullshit. he wouldn’t have blamed them for it. everyone needed a little break every now and then. “look at us having a romantic lunch date in the hospital. it’s practically peak romance.” he chuckled, winching a little at the effort. broken ribs really were the most painful thing he ever had to deal with. “think you can talk him into bringing me my toothbrush, comb, and other hygiene stuff too? i feel like hell. maybe a shower will do me some good.” he wasn’t entirely sure how he was meant to shower with his new little body additions, but he would figure it out.

Ashton: Ashton would have to admit it was strange when he had more time to think about it. He'd really never been in love. He'd take breakups with his usual shots at the bar, then he was kind of over it in a very detached way. Now he found himself sticking like glue. Yes, he was hurt, but he didn't want to go anywhere. He wanted to stay, and he wanted them to be okay. "Oh it's so sexy. We can share a straw." He waggled his eyebrows at Luke and his other hand found the curls that showed through bandages and tubes. "He's pretty stubborn. I'll have him bring it though. I get to help with the shower. I don't want the nurses doing all that. This body is mine, tubes and everything."

Luke: luke was silent for a moment, watching ashton as he spoke. he had always been fond of the older boy, always looking up to him and seeking his approval. he had been able to convince himself it was because he saw ash as an older brother, but it had obviously been so much bigger and deeper than that. now, sitting together in the silent hospital room, he was finally able to take it all in. he loved ashton. it was different with him than it was with sierra or anyone else. well, yes, sierra did hold a special place in his heart, he wasn't foolish enough to turn a blind eye to the ways that she had ruined him. but ashton was different. ashton was gentle and kind and sweet. he looked at luke in ways that had the lead singer falling head over heels all the fucking time. "can't say it's not original." he smiled, coming back down to earth. he was glad that ashton hadn't left him, his anxious heart slowly settling. one day at a time, one step at a time. they would get through this and come out stronger than ever. "look at you stealing their chance to see me fully nude. bet they're gonna be heartbroken about it." luke teased, the hand in his hair making him visibly relax a little. "you should fully join me. shower might help you relax and feel a little better."

Ashton: Ashton shrugged and smiled as much as he could. He hated the situation, hated the tubes and wires everywhere. He was trying to ignore it and ignore the reason he was angry in the first place. It didn't matter. "It's pretty sexy. That straw is getting a lot of tongue," he teased. He probably didn't need to make Luke laugh, but he tried. "Hey, I'm not sure that's what we should even do in the shower at this point, not that I don't need one. I do. But I think giving you a blood pressure boost is probably not the right thing to do. I'm going to be there though. That I promise, breaking hearts one shower at a time." He stayed right there, both hands occupied. His face turned serious after a minute. "I can't lose you, you know. You can't do this to me again. Not once." His voice was barely over a whisper and there was a grittiness to it while he battled another flood of worry.

Luke: he appreciated the light moment, appreciated that ashton was kind of making an attempt to make him laugh. it worked, of course, and a little chuckle escaped his lips, but it quickly died out as the conversation turned serious again. "i'm not going to do it again. i promise, ash." he was determined to stay true to his word, already swearing off liquor and drugs. he could do this. he could keep himself in line and make his band proud. "you don't have to worry about losing me anytime soon. you've got me. i'm here to stay. i know it sounds like a load of shit considering the fact that we're sitting in a hospital room right now, but i mean it. i want to do right by you, ashton. you deserve better than the bullshit i've been pulling these last few years."

Ashton: Ashton smiled sadly. "I wish you wouldn't but I'm not sure you won't." That was just the truth. Trust was earned, not free. He trusted Luke in a lot of things, but not this. "I need you to try. You know how much it would hurt if you weren't here? Mikey, Calum, me -- we wouldn't be us without you." He bit his lip. "Sometimes I wonder how much I matter to you because you just go away like this. I'm trying to be healthier, but I want to do it together. I wouldn't be healthier without you. I'd be worse." He was worried that Luke might push him away, or think he was bad for Ashton who was managing his own recovery. "I don't want to have to be okay without you."

Luke: "can i ask you something? and i want you to be one-hundred percent honest with me." fuck it. might as well rip the bandage off now. luke was determined to be the best version of himself, but it was growing increasingly clear that nobody really had faith of him. did he blame them? well, no, because this was his biggest fuck up yet. he made a horrible choice and it resulted in horrible consequences. taking a deep breath, he did his best to keep the self-deprecating thoughts at bay, nervous about falling back into that familiar dark place. his fingers twitched, resisting the urge to pull his hand away. "do you even trust me at all? it's fine if you don't and i understand if that's the case. i'm just ... curious."

Ashton: Ashton sighed, but looked at him. It was important to see someone's eyes when you are saying something important. "Yeah, I do, most of the time, except stuff like this." He gripped curls a little harder just to draw attention. "I've been through bottles, done a lot of stupid shit that none of you know about. I thought I was being so sly for a lot of years. When you dropped on my doorstep, I was wrecking day by day on my own, but you needed me, and in a way you pulled me out and I had to be a better man. That sounds like a song someone sang." His own - Scar. "I had to pull myself together not only for me, but for you. I know how amazing you could be if you wanted to. I know I can't give up on you, and I won't. I just wish you'd think of me sometimes instead of the next drink."

Luke: luke noticed the tight grip in his curls and said nothing of it. the moment was tense, his heart beating furiously as ashton spoke. he knew this little confrontation was needed. ashton had a complicated history with alcohol, one that had been planted from a young age, and luke hated that he had added to it. sometimes it was easier to replace emotions with vodka, letting the alcohol numb him and keep him from having to deal with anything. it was a cheap way out. "i'm not going to argue it. i know i'm quite .... messy when it comes to drinking. always being cut off and dragged home. i just -- i never meant for it to go this deep." the confidence he usually held had faded, blue eyes flooded with tears that he refused to shed. "i'm sorry, ashton. i can sit here and promise that i'll do better, but i know it won't matter until you actually see it happen. i'm going to stay true to my word. no more drunk nights. no more putting you after whatever drink i'm going to have next. i promise. i really fuckin' promise."

Ashton: "I know you promise." Ashton was staying right there. He was showing him that he wasn't going to run. "It was funny that when you came, I was pretty low. I needed something to focus on other than all my bullshit and you were there. I could focus on what you needed, and heal myself at the same time. You didn't need to know all that, but I did. Taking care of you helped me." He leaned in as far as he could, and kissed his forehead. "I started writing my album then. I didn't do all of it, but I started. I wanted to be that for you. I wanted to be that one that kind of gave you enough so you could start to come out of all that. I need you to be okay." A rogue tear slipped out. He knew he didn't quite believe all the promises. Hell, he'd promised himself that long before he'd toned it way down and he'd broken all the promises. "I want us to be okay. Not just as us, but all of it."

Luke: luke sighed, a feeling of defeat washing over him. maybe it was just the overall exhaustion of going through something so traumatic. "you liked taking care of me?" a frown crossed his lips, surprised at the little confession. he didn't know why it was so surprising, but it was. "i mean -- why? i was never really any fun to be around. always crying about the end of things and how fucking shitty it turned out to be." he shook his head at the thought of it all. luke hated his low moments, hated that he usually dragged someone down with him. "don't get me wrong, though. i appreciate that you took care of me and let me stay with you. it's truly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me." he reached for the hand in his hair, taking it into his own. "we'll get better. one step at a time, ash. now kiss me again."

Ashton: "I did. I needed that, and I really needed to be needed. I also wanted you to be okay. When you were feeling better, so was I." He hadn't minded in the slightest. It wasn't an invasion on his life, not that he really had one at the time. "It wasn't a burden at all. I'd do it all again, and I don't even have to think about it." Ashton would consider this a much lower moment than that, and obviously he was now going to do it again. He leaned in and kissed him again as told. "I can't wait until we lose some of these machines. They are in the way."

Luke: "you're too good to me." it was a simple statement that held so much truth to it. luke had never really been the best person around. always so caught up in his own devices and his own plans. he was just grateful that ashton was willing to take a chance on him then.... and now. he probably didn't deserve it. "it was nice living with you the first time. i'm glad we're doing it again. we've got a place together, a dog -- i don't want to be the one to fuck that up." he smiled at the kiss, feeling a little better with each passing second. well, emotionally. "mmm. fingers crossed that they take a few off on their next rounds."

Ashton: "I know," Ashton teased, and to him it was just a tease. "I know it's not going to be easy, and I'm not going to try to control you, or make you do what you don't want to do. I'm going to help with whatever you need." They had a place together and a dog, almost two dogs, and likely would once Luke was back to moving around again. Those good moments had become priceless to Ashton. "Yeah, you better not. We have another dog on the way. We have to take care of them." He considered the space for a moment. "Maybe if they move enough of them I could fit up there with you." It was likely not allowed, nor could the bed accommodate two six foot tall boys, but it was a nice idea.

Luke: "another dog on the way." luke chuckled, already knowing that petunia was going to hate it. she was much too spoiled to share, but that was all going to change. "makes it sounds like we're expecting a child or something. it's cute." he really couldn't wait until he was released and reunited with his dog again. something about the animal always made luke feel better, petunia proving to be 'home' for him. "i could move over and you could take up the space on my good side? i mean, i should be getting the green light to go home tomorrow, so we'll be back to sharing a bed soon enough. thankfully. hospital beds are by far the worst beds i've ever had to lay in, and that's saying a lot considering how many hotel beds i've slept in. i'm sure you know that, though."

Ashton: "Have you ever tried a chair? This chair is way too small even if it reclines a little." It was an older recliner, not in the best shape. Ashton managed with legs hanging off the end. He'd probably be stuck over there again. "We are expecting another, so you better behave yourself, Mister. We have a growing family." He'd have to text the boys and have them make sure Petunia was fed and let outside. Mikey might have done that already, but he didn't know if he had a key. "I could probably get up there for awhile. Talk puppies, and stuff." It might not be the best idea until some of the hookups were removed, so he was patient.

Luke: “i’d rather the floor. looks way more comfy to me.” however, depending on certain things, luke knew the broken collarbone might have him sleeping in a recliner for a few weeks. lame. “i’ll be on my best behaviour. for you, the new addition, the band, and tour.” he wasn’t going to promise it, but that part really went unsaid at this point. “any names for the dog in mind?” luke asked, happy for the small talk. he was calm, relaxed. any tension had left his body, just happy to be having a conversation where someone wasn’t yelling at him.

Ashton: "We can do one more night. It will make our bed that much better when we get home," Ash told him. If he needed the incline, Ash would go buy one from the medical supply store. That way they could sleep snuggled up. It was funny how quick he adjusted to having someone there every night and had no desire to sleep alone. He just nodded and continued the affections that came with the relief that his boyfriend would be okay. There would be consequences, but they were fine. He'd wait and see on the rest and hope Luke could do it for himself and for them. "I'd love to name one Kitty. Is that overdone too much."

Luke: "gonna have to keep petunia off the bed for a bit. you know how she loves to be a spoiled baby and wake us up." luke smiled at the thought. he was already longing to go home, hating the hospital setting and the heavy cloud that hung over his head. was he stupid enough to think that it would go away upon his release? no, but that didn't stop him from thinking about it. "a dog named kitty? i like it. don't think i've ever met one with that name before, so i'm gonna say no to it being overdone. it's cute, original." he let himself get comfy, careful of everything connected to him. "thanks for coming, ash. it's nice having you here." he mumbled, words soft and just above a whisper as though their perfect little moment would be ruined if anyone heard them. "i love you. maybe it's too soon to say it, but it's how i feel. you don't have to say it back. i just ... -- it feels right to me."

Ashton: "You tell her that. Good luck." That dog had a mind of her own. She was lazy, but persistent when she wanted something, and if they were sleeping, they couldn't stop her. He couldn't wait to go home, even if he wasn't in the bed he was here for all of it. "I think a dog named Kitty is perfect. Here Kitty!" It was cute. Of course the name would have to fit the dog. "I've seen it twice." He shook his head and almost missed the words. Luke didn't have to thank him, like somehow it was a choice. He HAD to come, it was that simple. He didn't miss them though. "Not too soon," he whispered back, eyes bright as they could be on no sleep. "I love you, too. We've known each other forever anyway, but yeah." Now he felt awake and happy. They would have a lot to face, but they could do it.

#para: i will follow you into the dark.#para: ashton.#car accident tw #drunk driving tw #hospital tw #005

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