Work Text:
There’s little calm in a war.
Alright, to be fair, this isn’t quite a legal war just yet, but for all the loosely connected rebel cells and constant attacks and espionage and missions and whatnot—well, it sure feels like a war, that’s for certain.
Ahsoka feels the heat of this quasi-war all too fully; as Senator Organa’s informant and the shadowy purveyor of information to the rest of the rebellion, she and her team are almost always occupied at every moment of the day—scanning the galaxy, getting into fights, passing the information on to as many cells as physically possible.
If there’s one thing that’s worth all of this hardship, it’s the ends of the days, where she and Kaeden relax in the control room, doing a clumsy job of patching themselves up and being more careful in how they bandage each other. Kaeden gently applies bacta gel to a nasty blaster burn on Ahsoka’s arm, while she patches up the singed holes in her lover’s jacket. They eat a meager dinner of flatbread with cheese and look at the star charts haphazardly strewn across the table, charting out tomorrow’s endeavors.
“I heard there’s rebel activity happening on Fest,” says Ahsoka, gingerly leaning against Kaeden. “Might be a good place to check out.”
“Maybe,” says Kaeden, typing away at her datapad. “There’s also the food shortage on Onderon, maybe Organa could help out with that somehow if he knew.”
“I’ll make sure to tell him, then.” Ahsoka hums, resting her eyes shut. “You ever feel like there’s no life outside of the Empire?”
Kaeden laughs hollowly. “You’re telling me,” she says, “after all that went down on Raada?”
“But see, that’s what I mean,” says Ahsoka, slinging an arm around her love’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a fighter or just a farmer doing your job, the Empire will always be everywhere.”
“And I guess back then, there wasn’t much we could do,” says Kaeden, “aside from lose yourself in a few rounds of Crokin and pray they don’t take you away.” She continues to tap on the datapad with her free hand. “But now, we finally have a chance to put a stop to them, so they’re all that matter.”
“I suppose,” says Ahsoka, taking another bite of bread. “I just wish we had time for a normal life once in a while.”
Kaeden hums her agreement. “Maybe one day, once this entire war is over, we’ll be able to properly settle down,” she says, leaning her head against Ahsoka’s shoulder. “You know, find a nice uninhabited planet somewhere, start a farm, raise a child or two.”
Something warm stirs in Ahsoka’s heart. “I’d like that,” she says, holding Kaeden closer to her. “Whenever that times comes, of course.”
They don’t talk for the rest of the night; conversation is limited to the clearing of the table and bidding each other a good night as they settle in. Still, Ahsoka can’t help but notice the slow air of domesticity that has developed between them, from the way they roll up the star sheets, to the comfortable silence of their evening rituals, to settling into the same bunk completely casually, resting their bodies next to each other as if they had already been married for years. It’s a soothing sort of quiet: the kind that comes when no words need to be exchanged in order to be understood. It’s the rare moment of peace in the middle of the storm.
And, perhaps one day, it could become the rest of their lives.