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It was their fourth night on Chaaktil, and Ahsoka was hoping that it would be their last. When she and her master had arrived several days before, she had been sure this would be an easy mission: in, ensure the return of the Republic hostages being held, out, back on their way to Coruscant in less than a full standard rotation. Nothing about it had screamed likely to drag on and go wrong to her, but then again, neither had the start of the war.
Perhaps ‘go wrong’ was putting it too strongly; nothing had ‘gone wrong’, in the sense that no one had died, or been injured. Things hadn’t even come to blows. And considering Anakin’s general approach to negotiation, hostage situations or otherwise, this could probably be considered a minor miracle of the Force. It didn’t mean that Ahsoka liked it, a fact that sat uncomfortably in her stomach as she lay restless in her bed for the fourth night in a row.
Chaaktil was a desert planet, and hotter than Mustafar, it seemed to Ahsoka. Cities weren’t meant to grow in places like this, she thought, though she supposed that sleeping out in the open probably wouldn’t be any better. Their first night, she had expected the temperature to drop off after dark, but to her dismay it remained unbearably hot and dry. They were staying, along with a small detachment of clones from the 501st, above a late night launderette at the edge of the city’s central zone. Each morning they traveled to a large and unfriendly-looking residential block, where they met with a frustratingly impassive and polite representative for the Separatists, who each morning calmly explained to them that the Republic hostages (a minor senator from Kiffu and several members of his staff), were being held at a secure location, were being treated with the utmost care, and would be returned into the custody of the Jedi in exchange for the release of several high ranking political prisoners. The representative would then project a holo transmission from this secure location, and the senator from Kiffu would confirm for Anakin that he and his staff were indeed being treated fairly, and that he hoped the Jedi would be able to secure their release soon.
After the first day, when they had left the block, Ahsoka had turned to Anakin and asked him what the plan was to break the prisoners out.
“You heard the Council, Ahsoka,” he said gruffly, “We are not to engage in any unnecessary conflicts.”
“Since when has that ever meant anything to you?” she had replied, eyeing him skeptically, “C’mon, what’s the real plan?”
“I’m serious, Snips. We are not starting a fight here.”
Normally, Ahsoka would have argued with him, pointing out every way in which this situation was exactly the same as countless other missions they had been on, every way in which it was actually less dangerous. But he was closed off from her in the Force, shielded unsubtly. Pointedly.
“Just because everything seems safe on the surface doesn’t mean that’s the truth of the situation,” Anakin said, intuiting her line of argument.
Well, four nights later, nothing had changed, and though his approach to the situation had not shifted, Ahsoka could feel him growing restless too. Like her, Anakin wasn’t built for downtime. Unlike her, however, he had no problem sleeping through the torrid Chaaktil night. Probably something to do with being from Tatooine, Ahsoka guessed. She squirmed in bed, kicking off her sheet. Across the room she saw Anakin asleep, shirtless atop a sheet that had never been untucked. She could see the beads of sweat on his chest through the dark. Shaking her head, she rolled over to her other side and pressed herself against the wall, trying to derive some coolness from it.
Normally, hot was fine with Ahsoka. But this wasn’t her kind of hot. She preferred the close heat of a jungle, the rain, the warm, damp soil beneath her feet. Not a city in the middle of a desert that baked everything dry as a bone. It was stifling, somehow sitting heavier on her chest than the most humid planet she could imagine. She had to get out.
Quietly as she could, she exited their room and climbed up to the rooftop. It was a tall building, tall enough to see out over the city. The hot night was alive below her, speeders zipping through the street, people stumbling out of bars, lights on in windows. Chaaktil’s moons shone bright in the sky, and Ahsoka thought longingly about the coldness of space.
She felt a flicker of worry across her bond with Anakin; he was awake. Ahsoka could feel his approach as he climbed up ladder from the stairwell to the roof. She didn’t turn around, keeping her gaze focused on the skyline before her.
“We’ll be out of here soon, Snips,” he said, joining her at the edge, “I promise.”
She huffed.
“Every single day has been exactly the same. What’s going to change tomorrow?”
“Maybe nothing,” he said, shrugging, “But we have to be patient.”
Patient! Ahsoka thought indignantly. The hypocrisy! She let him feel that, pushing her incredulity across their bond. Anakin sighed. He knew she was right.
“There are innocent lives at stake, Ahsoka. We can’t just rush headfirst into a fight we know nothing about.”
“Sounds like Obi-Wan and Senator Amidala are finally starting to rub off on you,” she grumbled, sensing that he was still holding something back from her. “Why aren’t we running recon on the hostages? At least assessing the situation for a possible extraction? Just because we can’t take action doesn’t mean we have to do nothing.”
Anakin crossed his arms, staring out at the city parallel to her, his Jedi robe hanging open over his bare chest. Ahsoka wondered why he was even wearing it; it wasn’t like it was any colder on the roof than in their room.
“Not everything has to end in a battle, Ahsoka,” he said evenly, “We are here to reach a diplomatic solution. Violence is our last resort.”
“We are in the middle of a war, if you haven’t noticed. There is no diplomacy, anymore. You’ve said so yourself.”
“Well perhaps I have reconsidered my position,” he said, tersely. She could sense him shielding himself from her again.
“Whatever, don’t tell me what’s really going on here.” She let Anakin feel her annoyance.
“It’s late, Ahsoka. Let’s go back to bed. Things could be different tomorrow.”
He turned his gaze away from the city and was looking at her, his eyes straining through the dark.
“It’s too hot to sleep,” she complained, waiving her hand dismissively.
“Let’s take a walk, then.”
Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at him. She could see him clearly, her vision much better than his. He looked unperturbed, though she could feel his tension.
“It’s too hot to do anything.”
“I’ll get dressed,” Anakin said, ignoring her, “There’s nothing like a late night walk through an unfamiliar city to clear your head.”
Not so unfamiliar anymore, as long as they had been there, Ahsoka thought. Longer than they spent in most places, that was certain. But she followed him down off the roof and back to their room. They dressed quickly and left the building quietly. They nodded to the trooper on watch at the entrance, and went on their way.
Ahsoka wondered if this is what all Anakin’s assignments had been like as Obi-Wan’s padawan. Before the war. It seemed unlikely—both Anakin and Obi-Wan seemed to attract trouble, and despite his diplomatic rhetoric, she knew her grand-master was always secretly spoiling for a fight. But maybe they had been different then. The war had changed everyone, this much was undeniable.
She didn’t think this sort of mission suited her, and felt a swooping terror from her belly up through her chest that this is what life would be like after the war: laying low, waiting for things to work themselves out. Restless nights, empty rooftops, hot air.
“Don’t worry, Snips. When the war is over, do you really think I’d let our lives get boring?” Anakin said, sensing her anxiety as they turned the corner and headed down a vibrantly neon street.
“Well, you’ve let this week get this boring,” she snipped at him.
“I’m wounded,” he laughed, “You know, it’s not that bad, having a week of sleeping in a real bed, eating good food, not worrying about some droid trying to blast us off the face of the planet.”
“You say that, Master, but you’re just as restless as me. I can sense it,” Ahsoka replied.
She could feel the truth of it in the Force. Neither of them were good at this. Try as they might, they would never be.
“Let’s wait until the war is over before we start worrying about peacetime.”
Music pulsed out of an expensive looking club to their right. She could feel its vibrations in her montrals, and sensed the heady energy radiating from within. They stopped walking, a promoter trying to usher them inside. Normally, they would have ignored him and continued on their way, but it held an allure that Ahsoka had yet to spot elsewhere in the city: misters.
That was how she knew it was expensive, the abundance of misters and fans that were cooling off customers, and even blowing an unnatural and refreshing breeze out into the street. On a planet like Chaaktil, Ahsoka knew that the cold didn’t come cheap.
Anakin caught her eye, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged. Why not?
They approached the entrance, and the bouncer on the door looked her up and down, his eyes lingering a little too long to be assessing her age.
“No entry fee tonight, but a two drink minimum. Each,” he said gruffly, pressing an iridescent flower stamp to the back of their hands.
It was loud inside, and though it was crowded with bodies, it was much cooler than the night outside. Ahsoka sighed with relief, and followed Anakin to the bar.
“You’re not really going to buy something, are you Master?” Ahsoka asked.
“You heard the man, Snips. We’re borrowing their cool air, we might as well thank them for it,” he replied, and turned to the Twi’lek woman behind the bar, “Tsiraki for me, and your coldest, most refreshing cocktail for the lady.”
The woman fixed Anakin with a stern look, as if she disapproved of him buying Ahsoka a drink, but made no comment. Anakin paid her, grabbed the drinks, and moved further into the club. They found a booth table that looked out over the dancefloor below. The table was covered in empty glasses, but otherwise unoccupied, and they slid into the seats, which to Ahsoka’s disgust were suspiciously sticky against her leggings. She took her drink from Anakin, a mysterious green concoction, ice cold as promised.
Ahsoka eyed it suspiciously. Though she drank occasionally with her master and the troops, it was usually beer. Somehow a cocktail of unknown composition, seemed more daunting. But the glass was invitingly frosty in her hand, so she took a sip.
“Any good?” Anakin asked loudly, raising his voice so she could hear him over the music.
“Not bad, nice and cold,” she answered, “How’s yours?”
“Tastes like blue,” he said, taking a long drink, “Always does.”
The dark of the club was punctuated by colored strobes, illuminating their table in a rotation of colors. Ahsoka wondered what they were doing there, besides cooling off. She took a drink, and savored the cold air that was blowing from a vent above their table. The lights colored the mist that was spraying gently out over the dancers below them. Ahsoka thought it might have been beautiful if it weren’t so gross. She imagined what it would be like to be one of the dancers down there, six drinks gone and laughing as she swayed with her friends and with strangers, bending with the music, reveling in the mist.
It was a passing fancy, but she was sure that Anakin had sensed it, and she felt his eyes on her.
“Life outside of war doesn’t mean life without burdens, you know. And don’t think that just because those people down there are having a good time now means they don’t have hard lives to go back to tomorrow.”
He spoke like he was worried she wanted to be down there with them, unburdened by war. He spoke like he understood. Ahsoka supposed that maybe that was what she wanted, but the idea of a life beyond the Jedi was a terrifying abyss; she was scared enough of life as a Jedi without the war.
“Don’t worry, Master. I’m not going anywhere,” she said, and he smiled at her.
“I know, Snips.”
They sat and they drank, the conversation’s tone lightening considerably as they went. By the time she had reached the bottom of her glass, Ahsoka’s mood had lifted, though it darkened again when she considered the wall of heat that would hit them as soon as they walked back out of the club.
“Well, the man did say a two drink minimum, emphasis on each,” she said as Anakin drained his drink.
“Easy there, we’re still on duty, you know.”
“Two drinks, Master? I’ve seen you and Rex go through.”
“When you can handle your liquor as well as Rex, let me know,” he said, “But I take your point. One more round, and we’ll head out. Same again?”
Ahsoka nodded, and he turned to head back to the bar, which was now crowded several layers of customers deep. Anakin turned back to Ahsoka.
“There’s another bar downstairs, I’ll see if it’s less busy.”
“I’ll come with you,” Ahsoka said, unsticking herself from the booth and following him down the metal steps.
As they descended, Ahsoka could feel the exhilaration and intoxication of the dancers even more strongly, and shivered. Usually when they were in clubs, it was for an assignment and she was focused on finding someone or something, tuning out everything else. But she let it wash over her now, and found it a strange combination of overwhelming and pleasant.
The line for the bar downstairs was much shorter, and Anakin handed her a new drink, different from the first.
“I didn’t know what the other one was called,” he said, leaning down so she could hear him better, “And this guy made something different when I asked for a cold drink.”
Ahsoka took a sip, and blinked. It was strong, much stronger than the other drink, but just as cold. She liked it better.
Anakin sipped on his tsraki, and they lingered against a wall instead of returning to their booth. It was probably taken now anyways. The number of dancers continued to grow, and eventually they were shifted from their position at the edge of the room, flowing with the surge of the crowd—there was no use fighting it.
Maybe it was her second mystery cocktail of the evening talking, but it was a strange, almost meditative feeling Ahsoka thought, moving and being moved with so many people. Spiritual and carnal all at once. It was not what she had imagined from her seat above the dancefloor.
She felt both of Anakin’s hands firm on her shoulders, guiding her through the sea of bodies. She supposed he had a better view of the exit than she did, being as tall as he was. She felt a warm tinge of amusement skitter across their bond as he pressed her forward through the crowd.
Up the stairs they went, back past the bar, out to the entrance, which Ahsoka observed was also the exit. Deep breath and back into the crackling heat of the night, clothes still damp from the club’s misters.
“I was having fun,” Ahsoka pouted. Anakin laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“I know,” he said, “And as much as I’d love to stay out all night and join in the dancing, we do have work in the morning, Snips.”
Ahsoka steadied herself against him, her head spinning a little.
“That second drink was really something,” she remarked sleepily, “Two drinks and I feel ready to pass out.
Anakin steered her onwards.
“Well, good thing we’re going back to bed,” he said.
“Are we going to get them back tomorrow, Anakin?” she asked a few minutes later.
“I hope so.”
“Why haven’t we gotten them back yet?”
He hesitated.
“The council told me to be cautious.”
“I know,” Ahsoka said, “They always tell you to be cautious. It’s never stopped you before.”
He rolled his eyes.
“It was different this time. You weren’t there,” he said, “ They said that it’s a sensitive mission and—”
“Doesn’t seem too sensitive to me,” Ahsoka said, observationally.
“They said,” Anakin pressed on, directing Ahsoka down the street, “That I’ve been too reckless too often. That they’re worried I’ve passed on my bad habits to you. That if I screw this up that I won’t be able to take you on field assignments for some time. So they’ve given us an assignment that requires patience and restraint. It’s a test, basically.”
“They threatened to separate us?” Ahsoka’s voice was soft, and then filled with anger, “How could they threaten you like that? You’re the best Jedi they have! ‘Screw this up’?! How often do you fail them?”
“I think it’s not my results that are the failures. It’s the methods,” he said, “So I’m behaving. I won’t lose you.”
The way he said it, firm and fearful, made her want to cry.
“Not sure Master Windu would see buying me mystery cocktails while on active duty as behaving, Skyguy,” Ahsoka pointed out, poking him in the ribs.
“You know what I meant!”
“Yeah, I know what you meant,” she agreed, dropping the faux levity from her tone, “You could have just told me, you know. I won’t lose you either.”
She could feel his anxiety, which he had hidden from her so well the last several days, pulsating in the Force, hanging around them as they walked in silence. Ahsoka found that her sleepiness had faded, her alarm at the Council’s threat clearing her head and shocking her awake. Bed had lost its appeal.
“Do we have to go back already?” she asked Anakin.
He peered down at her suspiciously.
“No,” he said, “I guess we don’t.”
And so they continued walking, winding their way through the city, talking sometimes but mostly just observing. Though it was late, the city was more alive than it had been during the day. That made sense, Ahsoka thought; the desert itself bloomed after the sun went down, so why wouldn’t a city built in one do the same?
“This place isn’t so bad,” Anakin said, “There are no cities like this on Tatooine.”
Sometimes Ahsoka forgot that he had had a life before the Jedi. That he had a life outside of the Jedi even now, though he wouldn’t admit it. It was alien to her and she wanted to ask him about it, but sensed that he wouldn’t give her the answers she wanted. She wondered if it would make life easier for him when the war was over. She suspected it wouldn’t.
They were beyond the city center now, passing a night market filled with late night shoppers and diners. Familiar and foreign smells mingled and Ahsoka sighed deeply, reflecting on the fact that it had been a very long time since they had had their dinner. Her stomach grumbled, betraying her to Anakin. He rolled his eyes.
“This evening is turning out to be unexpectedly expensive for me,” he complained, reaching into his robes to give Ahsoka enough credits to buy them some food.
“It’s not like it’s your money, Anakin.”
“Just get us something to eat.”
Ahsoka took the money and left him on the street. She returned with three boxes of food: the local delicacy of curried lizard, a fragrant mélange of noodles and vegetables, and some bite sized pieces of something that had been deep fried beyond recognition. She handed Anakin the noodles and balanced her curry on top of the third box.
“Not bad,” he said, digging into the noodles, “How’s the lizard?”
“Really nice!” Ahsoka said between mouthfuls.
They ate as they walked further and further from the city’s center. As they got closer to the desert, the noises of the city began to fade away. Anakin finished his noodles and grabbed for the box of fritters. Ahsoka swatted his hand away.
“I thought you got those to share!” he said accusatorily.
“I did!” she replied, “Just wait and I’ll give you some.”
“Whatever.”
They lapsed back into silence as they found themselves on the edge of the city, the vast darkness of the desert spreading out before them. It was strange how the city just ended abruptly, she thought, no lights from settlements beyond its margins. Out of the city blocks, where the tall buildings shielded them from the wind, a light breeze picked up, cooling the night.
“That’s more like it,” she said, breathing deeply.
It was hot and dry, but cleaner than the city air had been, and tinged with the scent of some desert moonflower that was growing wild. She plopped down on the ground beside a large boulder, and Anakin joined her, reaching stealthily for the box of fried food, which this time, she let him take.
“We should do this more often,” Anakin commented, “It’s nice.”
They were both staring out into the dark, though neither of them could see anything. Ahsoka supposed there was nowhere else to look.
“These are delicious,” she said, popping another battered ball of something into her mouth.
“They really are,” Anakin agreed, “What did you say they are?”
“No idea,” she replied.
“Helpful, Snips.”
Ahsoka looked at him out of the corner of her eye, observing how his curls, no longer damp from the misters in the club, moved gently in the breeze. He felt less tense than earlier. She leaned into him, trying to get as close as she could to the source of the warm, sleepy affection that he was radiating towards her.
Closing her eyes, Ahsoka saw the world after the war ended, a galaxy at peace and an endless expanse of nights like this. The future wasn’t empty, it was full of possibility. Ahsoka felt completely at peace, and extended that feeling to Anakin, who sighed.
Her head grew heavy, the slight rise and fall of Anakin’s chest lulling her closer to sleep.
“We should head back,” she mumbled into him.
“Let’s stay a while,” Anakin said, sensing her reluctance to get up.
He leaned back against the boulder, wrapping an arm around Ahsoka.
“Go to sleep,” he told her, “I’ll wake you when we have to go back.”
Ahsoka happily complied.
As she drifted off, the comforting buzz of the Force surrounded them. The desert night was full of life.