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Ahsoka held Anakin in her arms. Really though, it was more like he was strewn across her lap; he was much too large for her to simply hold. He was gasping for air, blinking rapidly. A blaster wound had created a hole right through his heart.
“Anakin, Anakin you’re going to be okay. I’m going to fix this, I’m gonna-” he grabbed her hand, stopping her frantic rambling.
“Snips, look at me.” She did, though he was bleary through her tears. He whispered something too quietly to hear, so she leaned in closer. “Why-” he gasped. “Why’d you leave Ahsoka? Why weren’t you here? You should have- been here.” Then his head went limp, and Anakin Skywalker was dead.
Ahsoka bolt upright in her cot, panting.
Just a dream. It was just a dream. But despite her knowing that it wasn’t real, she couldn’t convince her racing heart to slow. Because the Anakin in her dreams (nightmares) was right. She should have been there. She should have died with the rest of the Jedi, should have been there to protect her family. But she wasn’t, and now she was a lone soul wandering the galaxy.
She padded through the halls of the ship quietly, making sure to not wake Rex. She arrived at the ship’s hold which served as a makeshift gym when it wasn’t full of (totally legal) cargo. She removed her shoes and stood barefoot on the mat. Ahsoka closed her eyes and tried to quiet her mind.
She fell into moving meditation, flowing through her katas without a second thought. They were so ingrained in her that they didn’t require her to think much, which was good. She couldn’t think right now or else she wouldn’t be able to stop. But these katas, the ones she learned when she was just a youngling in the temple and then perfected when she was a Padawan, these she could do practically in her sleep. Ahsoka allowed her mind to drift as she swept through the motions.
“Feet wider, Snips,” Anakin’s voice echoed through the training room on the Resolute.
“My feet are fine, Master!” He smirked.
“No, they aren’t.” Quick as a flash, he moved his foot forward, hooking it around Ahsoka’s ankle. With a slight pull, her legs were pulled out from under her, and she fell to the ground. She looked up to see Anakin shaking with mirth. “Told you.”
Ahsoka snapped out of the memory. Okay, she thought. No katas tonight. She moved to the other end of the room, where a battered punching bag hung from the low ceiling. It had definitely seen better days. Then again, we all have .
She fell into her stance, the one that her men had taught her during her first days on the Resolute . With each punch, her men’s faces flashed through her mind.
Axe . Punch. Echo. Punch. Hardcase. Punch. Fives. Punch. Jesse.
Her knuckles bled now, but she kept going. She had to remember their names, because if she didn’t then who would? She and Rex were the only ones left. The war had taken so much from them, and for what? It had taken the lives of so many troops, men who deserved more than to die for war. It had taken every last one of her family. It had taken Obi-Wan, it had taken Anakin. With a sob, she fell to the ground, forehead leaning against the abused punching bag.
How long she knelt like that, she didn’t know. Eventually she heard quiet feet walk into the room, heard a whispered, “Oh, Ahsoka.” Then Rex was on the floor with her, arms wrapped around her in a tight hug. Safe in his arms, she began to cry anew.
They stayed like that the rest of the night, grieving for the family they never had a chance to save.