Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I know that ooo-ooh, birds fly, in different directions
Oo-ooh, I hope, to see you again

Sunsets, sunrises,
Livin’ the dream, watchin’ the leaves,
Changin’ the seasons,
Some nights, I think of you,
Relivin’ the past, wishin’ it’d last,
Wishin’ and dreamin’

She awoke with the phantom pain of blaster fire striking her back and shoulders.

The shock of it kept Aayla from moving for a good minute, even as her nerves screamed over injuries there and then gone, the oh so brief brush of death as she’d fallen to the ground. And it wasn’t just her - the entire Force reeled with horror, thousands of Jedi caught up in their own awakenings from nightmares, no mere echo of pain and betrayal but a tidal wave.

It defied explanation.

Eventually, Aayla dragged herself out of bed and to the door, stumbling over the threshold as she always did after an extended period of time away from Coruscant. And this was Coruscant, the Jedi Temple, her own quarters- except, different. No token gifts from her men lined the counter that divided sitting room and kitchen; the holo-stills of her various friends cluttered up the low table by her balcony window, when Aayla remembered quite clearly moving them to an empty shelf the year before.

Rather abruptly, the twi’lek realized she herself was different as well. Once the pain of her phantom blaster injuries faded, no other dull aches made their own presences known. A swift inspection of her arms and legs revealed the utter lack of scars gathered during three years of war. Even the hardened layers of her mental shields, added on for self preservation when constantly surrounded by death and suffering, felt lighter than since she’d still been a newly knighted Jedi. As if- as if the effects of the years in-between were simply-

-gone.

Aayla bolted.

In the corridor beyond her quarters, other Jedi were emerging from their own doors, most of them wide-eyed with shock. A few merely looked blearily concerned, and Aayla heard snatches of questions as she darted past, queries as to whether everyone experienced the same distressing vision. But those who clutched at their chests or throats, their weak points- those Jedi bore a muted horror in their eyes, and Aayla didn’t doubt they’d just suffered their own betrayals from trusted men.

(Force, her men. What happened to them?)

By the time she reached the Great Hall, at least half the Temple’s population seemed to have gathered - the old population, before the war began so devastating their ranks of grown Knights and Masters. It took a bit of insistent nudging with the Force, but Aayla managed to wind her way through the upset crowd, until she nearly tripped over Master Yaddle.

The wizened Jedi looked up at her, frowning sharply. “No good, will rushing do you, young Secura. Answers, not to be found, not as of yet.”

Aayla breathed deeply through her nose. “I apologize, Master. Do you know where- Master Quinlan-”

Yaddle’s frown deepened. “Awakened from something unknown, most of us have. A dark something. But still caught in the vision, a few are.” On the far side of the hall, Aayla saw a flicker of careful movement; a handful of Healers carrying unconscious forms out of the dormitories.

Breathing at all, let alone deeply, became a sudden challenge.

“Come,” Yaddle said, tugging on the loose pants Aayla always slept in. “To the Healing Halls, you will join me.”

Once everyone settled somewhat, and an actual accounting of names and visions took place, they realized the obvious pattern.

A Jedi who perished during the war’s initial battle on Geonosis experienced their death only as a fleeting dream, a brief warning. One who continued on through the galaxy-spanning conflict itself saw flickers of their actions, their struggles, culminating in their own demise. Those who’d survived three years of warfare only to perish in ‘Order Sixty-Six’ suffered the strongest visions, the sharpest clarity; the elder Masters surmised it was likely that sudden sweep of death which triggered whatever event rolled them all back to a point four years prior, before the Confederacy of Independent Systems declared their secession from the Republic.

And yet, such a theory hardly explained the Jedi who remained asleep.

Not quite a full hundred, who slept through the initial midnight mass awaking and all subsequent attempts to rouse them. Master Windu ordered those still affected to be moved to the Healing Halls, and remain under close supervision. The man himself even took up a near permanent post within the halls as well; at first, Aayla half assumed him to be avoiding dealing with the issues of suddenly having a Council with twice the proper number of members.

Then she realized one of those still asleep, a tiny human initiate, was the boy who became Windu’s grand-padawan in the last months of the war. Aayla spent a great deal of time in the hall that housed Quinlan’s unconscious self, and more than half the time when she left him, she saw Windu standing beside or talking quietly with Depa Billaba. Or, late one night, sitting on a bench with his former student dozing against his shoulder, both of them positioned to look through an open door at the hall full of afflicted younglings.

Caleb Dume, Ahsoka Tano, Barriss Offee, Cal Kestis, Trilla Suduri, a dozen more... all of them still initiates or newly chosen padawans, not yet soldiers, not yet commanders.

Not yet victims of war.

Aayla didn’t know what anyone planned to do about young Barriss, if anyone held even the first clue of what to do. Or the others who Fell during the war, like Pong Krell. Even just thinking about what he did to his own men, the troopers entrusted to his care- And yet, in this time, the besalisk Master barely held more memory of his horrendous actions than a few, wispish nightmares, full of Darkness and disgust. Many argued, how could he be held accountable for actions not yet committed?

At least Master Windu gave the command for Krell to be monitored closely, along with a handful of other Jedi caught out for misconduct in their previous existence. Aayla fully intended to put herself forward to help with said monitoring... after Quinlan woke up.

Some of the afflicted Jedi awoke within a week. They typically jerked upright with pained gasps, only to stare about with dazed incomprehension until a familiar face appeared: a mentor, a friend, a student. And then, inevitably, without fail, the grief would surge; grief, and overwhelming relief.

Sheer chance allowed Aayla to witness one such reunion, when Sha Koon’s explosive awakening led to several Force-thrown beds before her uncle arrived. “It felt empty,” the younger Kel Dor mourned, clutching onto Plo’s robes with her forehead pressed to his shoulder. “The Force- the screams echoed, but the Order- you were all gone.”

“We’re here now,” Plo murmured, meeting Aayla’s worried gaze from across the hall. He managed, somehow, to project enough reassurance for her and his niece both. “We have all been returned, and this time, we will not be taken by surprise again.”

Stories began to circulate the Temple. Tales of being hunted by clones devoid of their warmth, of an Empire raised from the Republic’s ashes, of the galaxy brought to heel by Palpatine’s successful bid for power.

Of a new Sith Order.

“Inquisitors,” Luminara Unduli explained when she awoke, voice exhausted and body trembling from remembered pain. “They called themselves Inquisitors. Jedi who Fell purely for self preservation, and lashed out with all their fear and rage to avoid punishment falling onto their own heads.”

She named several of the still sleeping Jedi as those who’d turned to the Dark Side, including her own padawan. And yet, as soon as the Healers deemed her able to depart from their supervision, Luminara promptly packed off for the hall where Barriss and the other younglings remained. No one protested her commandeering an empty bed for herself; Aayla started bringing extra food back down from the refectory on her twice-daily trips.

Which was how she managed to be present when Trilla Suduri awoke with a whimper.

At first, the girl thought them to be ghosts, and resisted all efforts to get her to remain lying still. She evaded Aayla and bolted for the open doorway; thankfully, Master Jaro Tapal, visiting his own not-yet-padawan, moved quickly enough to intercept Trilla and tuck her against his massive chest. From that sudden height, she caught sight of the unconscious Cal Kestis, and froze.

Out of all the Healers and Masters who came to speak with the girl, she best responded to Tapal’s gently rumbled questions, eyes never leaving his small student. Eventually, the lasat returned to his earlier seat, Trilla sitting curled in his lap. Aayla very nearly started to offer to check on Master Junda for her, only to fall silent when Luminara grasped her arm in a grip tight enough to bruise.

The mirialan shook her head. Aayla instead offered to fetch the girl something to eat besides bland nutri-mush.

Once they knew where to look, the Order’s Shadows swiftly found hard evidence of Palpatine’s schemes. Deals through proxies with the Trade Federation, Techno Union, and other conglomerates who’d bribed their way into Senate representation. Recorded conversations with members of the Separatist faction, many of them known to be pushing for either drastic reform or dramatic departure from the Republic.

Sith artifacts housed within his home estate on Naboo.

Senator Amidala proved to be a sharp politician and staunch ally when Master Windu approached her directly; she called an emergency session to put the evidence forward and accuse Palpatine of causing the siege that so badly hurt their planet nine years before, purely for his own gain. Considering the Trade Federation’s blockade and subsequent hostile takeover directly led to Valorum’s resignation and the election that made him Chancellor, Palpatine didn’t have much room to protest. And even what little space to deny and protest he did have went out the window when the images of monetary transactions went up, flickering through one after another, painting a clear line between him and a planet called Kamino, where several million clone soldiers were put into production nearly nine years prior.

Six Jedi waited for the Chancellor’s pod to descend. He went upwards, instead, even maneuvering to cut Senator Amidala in half on his way out.

Except, Master Windu jumped up from his disguised position in the back of the Naboo pod, and ensured the Sith Lord failed both the murder and escape attempt.

They went to get the clones. They barely waited for Palpatine’s body to cool before demanding and securing Senate permission.

They only found empty cities and dead Kaminoans.

“No one feels certain if we should look for them or not,” Aayla murmured, curled into a chair at Quinlan’s bedside. “If we could truly help this time, or only drag them into strife all over again. Whether it would be better to let them find their own path.”

And the clones were, undeniably, setting out on a path all their own. The armories on Kamino were just as empty as the dormitories, and not a single space-worthy ship remained anywhere on the planet. Aayla knew there wouldn’t have been enough for the original three million battle-ready troopers, let alone Force knew how many cadets and younglings and infants still in their growth tubes, but- if anyone in the galaxy could be capable of finding a way to evacuate millions of lifeforms without attracting the Republic’s attention, it would be her men and their brothers.

From the available records, the Jedi assumed every single Kaminoan cloner to be either dead or gone with the troopers. Same for the trainers hired to shape them into soldiers; some of the bodies left behind looked to have been killed swiftly, cleanly, while others... Well. Aayla knew a few stories from Bly, of cruelty masked as practicality, amusement in the form of harassment. She could understand some trainers being brought down with extreme prejudice, even if she didn’t like the viciousness of it.

Only a few remained unaccounted for, names that Shaak Ti assured them belonged to hard yet decent people. They’d likely gone with the clones gladly, or else been allowed to leave on their own terms unharmed.

No one could say for certain which had been Jango Fett’s fate. Or young Boba’s for that matter.

Force, no one could even say what prompted the clones to so violently rebel in the first place, eliminating their creators and abandoning Kamino completely. Aayla suspected - hoped - something of the event that restored the Jedi Order also affected their closest allies, inciting them to reach for freedom en masse. But without so much as a single message, or even a whisper of rumor, they couldn’t possibly begin to guess where the clones had disappeared to.

(Some, Aayla knew, felt perfectly willing to write off the whole matter with an attitude of good riddance. She did her best to avoid such Jedi, and the temptation of introducing her fist to their most sensitive facial features.)

“I miss Bly,” she admitted, in the quiet of the Healing Halls. “I miss all of them. And you, Quinlan. Please wake up soon.”

Before Quinlan, Cal Kestis and Cere Junda were restored to the Order.

The boy burst into tears the instant he awoke and saw his Master, still sitting in the youngling hall after two months. And Junda, when she stumbled in despite a fussing Healer at her back, very nearly did the same when she laid eyes on Trilla perched by Tapal’s side. Awkwardness abounded at first, of course, but the four of them eventually reached a stable enough state. Trilla had all but moved into the lasat Master’s quarters after attaching herself to him, and Junda didn’t hesitate to request a room transfer, putting herself next door, so that both younglings could be close to the other’s teacher.

Barriss Offee awoke next.

Alone of all the slumbering Jedi Aayla knew of, the young mirialan didn’t gasp or scream or exhibit any other sort of dramatic reaction. Rather, the girl blinked open her eyes, peered around the hall, and slowly sat up. Then she stood and walked towards the nearest medkit, and very nearly managed to stab herself with a vibro-scalpel before Luminara caught her wrists. Then the hysterics started, and didn’t end until well after both mirialans were sitting on the floor where they’d collapsed, clinging to one another, their tears mingling in a great outpouring of anger and sorrow.

Not until Aayla finally helped them up, and Barriss caught sight of Ahsoka still unconscious on another bed, did the realness of it all seem to click. She promptly began swearing up and down to do better, that she wouldn’t turn, she wouldn’t Fall, she’d avoid the same mistakes and the same wrongs and the same horrors-

“I believe you, padawan-mine,” Luminara whispered, arms still wrapped around the girl’s shoulders. “We will both do better, the two of us.”

The scalpel, half sunk into a wall, remained ignored.

Quinlan, the utter bastard, managed to wake up while Aayla was gone on a trip to the refectory to fetch dinner. She arrived back in time to find him out of bed, out of his hall, and pressing a Healer up against the wall via an arm to their throat and demanding to know where someone named ‘Korto’ was being kept.

Aayla didn’t hesitate to pick up the meiloorun off her tray and lob it at her former master’s head.

He ducked, of course, but in the process released the alarmed Healer. Quinlan spun with the clear intention of charging at her, but froze as soon as his mind made the switch from ‘unknown hostile’ to ‘that’s my padawan’.

One hand placed against her hip and the other holding her dinner tray aloft, Aayla scowled at him. “Are you going to get back into bed, or do I need to waste more of my food aiming at your thick skull?”

She stayed with him through the following check-up and debrief, and remained even when all others left her old master alone. To Aayla, and Aayla alone, he spoke of Khaleen Hentz and Korto Vos - a spy met during the war, and the son she birthed only shortly before the Jedi Order perished.

“We changed planets constantly,” Quinlan told her in a blank voice. “Kept ahead of the Purge troopers and Inquisitors for years. Then, I- I slipped up. Felt sentimental. Gave a lift to an old contact from the war and his family - they wanted to go join the Rebellion that was brewing in the Outer Rim. Turned out the grandson was sending everything back to his Imperial handler along the way.”

Aayla gripped his hand a bit tighter, and Quinlan allowed a few silent tears to spill from his eyes. “They caught you.”

“Killed, probably. I just assumed I’d been captured when I woke up here. Khaleen died right before I did, I felt her go, but Korto- I don’t know. I don’t know, Aayla.”

She made no comment on his further tears, simply sitting with her teacher and brother, both of them mourning long into the night.

Eventually, there were few enough Jedi still sleeping that the Healers placed them all within the same hall together. Despite her main reason for visiting presently up and moving on his own, Aayla still went nearly every day, Quinlan constantly by her side.

Obi-wan Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker. Ahsoka Tano. Caleb Dume. Master Yoda, and a tiny youngling named Grogu of the same species. A few Masters with the skill to escape their clone troopers. A larger group of young knights and padawans who did not.

Many Jedi would come and go throughout the day to check them, including Master Windu. He continued to sit at little Dume’s bedside with a datapad for an hour or two at a time, usually while Billaba needed to deal with other matters. But, Aayla felt surprised to notice, Windu also often stood by the foot of Anakin’s bed, watching him with a contemplative expression she didn’t much care for.

“I admit, I’m surprised he’s still here,” Quinlan told her one morning, when he sat on one side of Kenobi’s bed, Aayla on the other with Anakin to her left. “Kid was on the list of dead Jedi, right from the start. I figured he must have gone down trying to protect Amidala from whoever killed her.”

An unpleasant sensation of cold crept up the back of Aayla’s neck. “She died too?”

“Day or two behind the Purge. Lots of news sites on the holonet showed clips from the funeral for weeks afterward.” The man stared silently at the far wall for a long moment. “...she was pregnant, at the time. Apparently no one knew, until after.”

Aayla closed her eyes, and breathed through yet more grief for life cut short.

Three of the younglings turned Inquisitors awoke together late one morning, just as Aayla and Quinlan were about to leave to fetch some lunch. They ended up staying for a good long while instead; first to help with the initial reactions of shock and fear, then the scrambled apologies, and finally-

-a bit of an explanation, concerning some of the remaining sleepers.

“Ahsoka Tano,” one of the trio said, a mirialan girl with skin more yellow than green, who spoke of the older initiate with mixed awe and wariness. “She’s- a leader of the rebellion. A founder. There’s been a bounty out on her head for years, but no one’s ever- she’s impossible to catch. And Lord Vader- he made it clear, Tano and Kenobi were only to be captured, so he could kill them himself.”

A dark suspicion crept into the back of Aayla’s mind. They’d heard the name ‘Vader’ before, but none of the Jedi who’d become Inquisitors could say who he was, where he came from; not even what species wore the intimidating suit of black armor. But this was the first Aayla heard of his focus on Obi-wan and Ahsoka, and it didn’t sit well.

“We pursued them to Malachor,” the girl whispered, huddled at the head of her bed. “Tano and Jarrus; they were both Purge survivors. And the boy, Bridger, a new padawan. But it wasn’t just them - the old Sith, the red Zabrak, he cut us down like we were nothing-” A broken sob cut through her words, and the small mirialan buried her head behind folder arms. “We’re nothing, we’re less than nothing, we failed-”

None of them were old enough to have been padawans yet when the Purge took place. Rather than Masters, Trilla Suduri skidded into the hall, Cere Junda not far behind her. They took over comforting the younglings, providing reassurance, beginning the long road to overcoming remembered years of fear and pain. Soon enough, all three were moved away to their own room where the Mind Healers could work with some privacy, and the hall fell quiet once more.

Quinlan finally rose, from his deceptively casual slouch against one wall. He wandered past Aayla, to the chair on the far side of Obi-wan’s bed, and dropped into it with a deep sigh. “What did you get yourself into, Kenobi? And where the sithing hells did you end up?”

Aayla sat down next to Ahsoka, and wondered the same questions.

The matter of too many Council members eventually sorted itself out, with a few Masters deciding to gracefully step down, while others settled on an exchange; three seats became rotation positions, with one each month switching to a different Jedi. Some in the temple grumbled over such a break in tradition - others, like Aayla, applauded the more adaptable method. They could only become stronger by listening to differing opinions, after all.

Unfortunately, Caleb Dume managed to pick the first Council meeting when both Masters Billaba and Windu were attending to wake up.

“...huh.”

The faint rasp drew Aayla’s attention, and she blinked. It took a moment to place the unfamiliar voice; not until she spotted young Dume staring at the ceiling did the twi’lek realize who’d awoken. She rolled smoothly to her feet and approached. The boy didn’t appear to be in distress, unlike so many others - if anything, his expression spoke of bemusement more than anything else. When blue-green eyes caught sight of her, Dume shifted his attention. “Master Secura?”

“Hello, young one,” Aayla murmured, settling to perch on the side of his bed. “You don’t seem very surprised to see me.”

A slight shrug. “Well, a little, I guess. Would’ve thought my Master would be the one to meet me first.”

“Meet you?”

“In the Force.” Dume’s gaze drifted back towards the ceiling. “It- doesn’t feel quite like what I was expecting. No offense, Master.”

“None taken, because we are not one with the Force, youngling.”

“...what?”

It took a good half hour for the boy to truly grasp the reality of their situation, and in that time Aayla learned that not only was young Dume the ‘Kanan Jarrus’ spoken of by others who’d awoken, he’d apparently lost his sight to the Sith lord Maul on Malachor, thought Ahsoka died there fighting Darth Vader, and sacrificed his life sometime later to save his loved ones. For someone who’d awoken so casually, so at peace with his prior death, Dume very swiftly became anxious and borderline hysterical, too many memories and emotions crowding his physically under-developed mind for space.

Aayla had seen the same effect on other younglings who awoke with years of experience abruptly thrust back into younger bodies. Outbursts came to be expected; they were, after all, suffering the equivalent of a protocol droid’s vast databanks of languages and cultural etiquette suddenly downloaded into a mouse droid with limited processor space. There simply wasn’t room to deal with it all, not right away.

Thankfully, once the healer on duty realized he and Aayla alone wouldn’t be able to calm the boy down, he sent an emergency call up to the Council chambers. Not ten minutes later, Depa Billaba strode into the hall at breakneck pace, robes billowing behind her, expression tight with concern.

Dume choked on a gasp, before throwing himself out of the bed in order to reach her that much faster.

Once assured the boy was in good hands, Aayla excused herself to fetch some food from the refectory; by the time she returned, Master Windu had also arrived, and situated himself on the floor, leaning back against Dume’s bed with the youngling snugly secure in-between him and Billaba. All three of them accepted at least one piece of fruit off the tray Aayla offered, though Dume did hesitate before taking the meiloorun his hand automatically reached for.

And then, at last, they received the final piece of a puzzle named Anakin.

“He became Darth Vader,” Dume murmured, gaze glued to the floor as he picked at the meiloorun in his lap. “Shook Ahsoka really badly, when we found out. I think- I think it’s part of why she stayed behind, on Malachor, when the Sith temple was about to blow up. Not just to hold him off so Ezra and I could escape, but- she couldn’t leave him. Not again. Rex almost broke when we came back without her.”

Aayla frowned, her mind sorting through the details, the implications, but first- “Captain Rex? The clone trooper?”

Dume nodded at her. “Him, Commander Wolffe, and a commando named Gregor - they didn’t have their inhibitor chips anymore. Ahsoka sent us to find them, after our crew officially joined the rebellion. They usually worked with her, but Rex came with us on plenty of missions, especially after- after Malachor.”

“What were you even doing there in the first place, padawan-mine?” Master Billaba asked, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her boy’s ear.

“Trying to find something, anything, that might give us an edge over the Sith.” Dume sounded downright exhausted as he explained. “The Inquisitors were running us ragged, and the first time Vader came around we barely got away. Ezra and I dropped a whole Walker on top of the guy, and he just got back up.”

Almost against her will, Aayla’s gaze dragged over towards Anakin, lying still on his bed across the hall. Dume’s story almost seemed too extreme to be true, and yet- there were moments, during the war. Stray words. Wavering control. If Aayla truly looked, she supposed the shape of a Sith Lord could, perhaps, be seen hiding in Anakin’s shadow.

Master Billaba seemed similarly caught on the edge of barely believing it. Windu, on the other hand... he hardly looked surprised at all.

Three mornings later, Quinlan woke her up with a call through the Force. When Aayla met him at the door of her quarters, her former master looked downright grim. “Obi-wan’s awake.”

Chapter Text

Seasons, they will change,
Life will make you grow
Dreams will make you cry, cry, cry
Everything is temporary,
Everything will slide,
Love will never die, die, die

It took over an hour for Obi-wan Kenobi to finish his story.

During that time, Aayla sat entirely silent. She kept her breathing steady, her emotions restrained. Quinlan sat beside her, close enough for their knees to touch, and every so often she could feel him twitch. When his old friend described leaving Anakin to burn on Mustafar; realizing the truth about Vader ten years later; receiving young Leia’s message and leaving Tatooine for Alderaan, only to arrive too late.

“Nothing remained except rubble,” Obi-wan murmured, hands clasped, head bowed. “I knew- something terrible had happened, but- the sheer scope of the destruction defied reason. The closest I can think to compare it to would be that warship Grievous used at the start of the war.”

“The Malevolence,” Master Plo rumbled, from across the room. “It would seem Palpatine’s grandiose weapons only grew in size with the passing years.”

Obi-wan hummed an agreement, briefly rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Thankfully, the larger they became, the easier to slip inside unnoticed.” He went on to detail sneaking aboard the Death Star, and committing just enough sabotage to ensure their escape without further tractor beams interfering.

Or rather, ensuring the others would escape.

“I suspect Vader felt me the instant I came aboard. He found me in those empty corridors, and we fought. At first I tried to keep moving, to get back to the Millennium Falcon, but when the doors to the hangar bay opened...” Obi-wan sighed. “The children were retreating towards the ship, shooting back at the stormtroopers pursuing them. I realized I- I couldn’t risk Vader cutting them off. So I distracted him a few moments longer, and when- when they were nearly all aboard-” A weak chuckle and small shrug. “I made my peace with finally moving on. His lightsaber came down, and then I woke up here.”

The man finally lifted his head, and Aayla felt her heart ache at the sight of the tears that had been silently spilling from his eyes. Master Eerin, the Healer who’d accompanied their group into a private room, immediately slid closer to wrap Obi-wan in a one-armed hug. He didn’t resist, leaning into the gesture; after a beat, Quinlan stood to walk over and join them, three old friends taking solace in one another. Aayla allowed herself the time to scan the other Jedi in the room.

Master Windu looked more pensive than usual, his gaze distant. Yaddle and Plo Koon kept their expressions impassive, but Aayla could feel the flickers of their sorrow in the Force. Depa Billaba seemed more focused on her former teacher, shifting to touch a hand to his shoulder, while Luminara Unduli held back tears of her own. “Nearly everyone in the Temple has needed to deal with the weight of their failures, Obi-wan,” the mirialan gently said. “You are not alone in dealing with that - but I think, out of all of us, you are one of the very few to have reason to be glad of what else you accomplished.”

“Accomplished,” Obi-wan echoed. “If you could call the rare moments of avoiding death and tragedy accomplishments, then certainly.”

Aayla huffed at that, and so did at least two of the Masters. Bant Eerin even reached up to tug on a strand of Obi-wan’s hair, making him wince. “You helped ensure the Order’s survival, Obi. If nothing else, be glad of that.”

He offered her a small, wry smile, clearly about to make another dry remark at his own expense- but before the man could, his attention swung towards the door, along with Windu and Billaba. A moment later, they all heard the tentative knock. Rather than waste time, Master Yaddle unlocked it with a nudge of the Force, and the durasteel slid aside to reveal young Dume standing hand in hand with another small Initiate.

Obi-wan made a startled noise. “Reva?”

The human girl promptly burst into tears. Quinlan got out of the way as she darted forward, practically throwing herself into Obi-wan’s hastily out-stretched arms.

“Sorry,” Dume apologized, still hovering awkwardly in the open doorway. “She said- I know we’re intruding, but I figured- couldn’t hurt, right?”

“I think you did well, Caleb,” Master Billaba reassured him. “Very well indeed.” Aayla couldn’t help but agree, considering how tightly little Reva clung to Obi-wan’s robe, and how softly he murmured to her in return.

Over the next few days, most of the remaining handful of younglings and Knights awoke, and from them came the confirmation of Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa escaping the Empire’s Death Star alive. Apparently, the boy even landed a shot that destroyed the entire monstrous thing only a scant few days later, making him one of the most Wanted people in the galaxy practically overnight.

“I can’t even say I’m surprised by that,” Obi-wan admitted, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Owen and Beru did their best, but I suppose the mere possibility of death-defying adventure brings out the Skywalker dramatics.”

The tales of Vader brought no such humor, however. Most of those who awoke did so reaching for necks broken by the Force or other injuries inflicted from a red lightsaber. “He was so angry,” one young pantoran whispered, curling into herself. “We missed Skywalker by an inch, and Vader- he- I couldn’t stop him-”

None of them recovered quickly from the trauma of their deaths, and the Mind Healers remained hard pressed to continue helping the newly woken younglings as well as those who’d risen weeks beforehand. One Initiate, at least, suddenly required far less attention - little Reva practically welded herself to Obi-wan’s side, constantly following his steps or neatly hiding in his shadow. Aayla would feel inclined to call it adorable, if she didn’t know how the pair knew each other from Before.

Looking after a child, at least, proved familiar for Obi-wan. Being able to focus on Reva’s needs helped distract him from grief, just as settling Anakin into Jedi life once distracted him from Master Jinn’s death. It seemed to be an arrangement that suited them both, though it did also raise the issue of limiting how much time Obi-wan could dedicate to looking in on those still asleep.

“We’ll let you know when something happens,” Quinlan reassured him. “Aayla’s practically become a permanent fixture down in the Healing Halls, anyway - she and I can keep an eye on Anakin and Ahsoka for you.”

“Thanks, Quin.”

“And Master Yoda too, of course, though it’s not like anyone needs to worry over the old troll.”

“Thank you, Quinlan.”

Aayla turned away to hide a stifled snicker as her former master continued, “I mean, look at the silver lining here, as long as he’s out of commission none of us are suffering from that gimer stick getting whacked against our shins, right?”

“Yes, thank you, Master Vos,” Obi-wan groaned, rubbing at his forehead. Aayla could sense his begrudging bemusement, though, and Reva’s small giggle was audible to them all. “If there’s any trouble besides a gimer stick suddenly coming for your kneecaps, do be sure to call us.”

They never got a chance to call, however, because when Master Yoda awoke in the middle of the night, none but a single junior Healer were on duty in the Hall. And said junior Healer didn’t notice Yoda waking up, because of course the ancient Master preferred to remain still and silent, his presence within the Force moving only gently, reaching out to brush over every single Jedi within the Temple. No one might have realized he’d been returned to them until the next morning...

...if it weren’t for Anakin snapping awake mere hours later.

The sudden tidal wave of alarm and panic caused Aayla to drop the pre-dawn cup of tea she’d been drinking, plain green porcelain shattering against the floor of her living quarters. Too many emotions to name rushed through the Force, before their source seemed to realize just how strongly he’d managed to broadcast them - and in an instant, all returned to stillness, to silence.

Aaya grabbed her favorite pair of slippers and took off out the door.

Quinlan met her on the way down into the Healing Halls, both of them sweeping around Jedi stumbling out of their own quarters who didn’t know what happened. It felt alarmingly reminiscent of the night when so many of them woke up from visions of the war. At least one key difference, however, rested on the heads of several former Inquisitors - Aayla could hear many of the younglings crying or screaming as she passed the doors of their smaller rooms, Healers racing about to calm those they could and sedate those they couldn’t.

“If he did this on purpose,” she heard Quinlan mutter as they took the final turn towards the hall containing the last of the sleeping Jedi, “I might actually kill him.”

Aayla very much doubted Anakin did anything of the sort, but she didn’t get a chance to say so. The two of them pulled up short, halted by the sight of multiple beds filling the doorway of their destination: frames warped and bent and wrapped together, forming a heavy barrier that blocked all sightlines within.

One rather dazed looking young Healer sat against the opposite wall, being looked over by Master Eerin. “Skywalker’s awake,” she informed them without looking up. “Master Yoda seems to be handling things. Do not cut your way in there with lightsabers, we need the situation to stabilize first.”

“Then what exactly are we supposed to do, Bant?” Quinlan demanded.

“Wait. Just wait - and handle Obi-wan for me whenever he manages to get down here.”

Aayla blinked, honestly surprised the man hadn’t appeared already. But then she thought of the little would-have-been Inquisitors, including Reva, and winced. Even if the girl didn’t die directly by Vader’s hand, feeling an overwhelming presence in the Force so much like the Sith Lord’s own undoubtedly pulled forth many unpleasant memories.

So. Quinlan began to pace, and Aayla sat to meditate.

She kept her focus inwards, at first, settling her heart rate to a calmer speed, identifying and setting aside concern, fear, muted anger. Anakin as an eighteen year old boy did not deserve to be looked at the same as Darth Vader, and Aayla needed to remind herself of it. Steady reassurance would be called for, just like with all the younglings tormented by half-recalled fragments of their older, Darker selves.

Once fully in control of her own mind, Aayla cautiously extended herself through he Force, looking first for Master Yoda’s presence. He caught her almost immediately, the same unchanging warmth every Temple-raised Jedi knew to trust. Yoda let her bask for a moment in his intense joy of the Order restored, centuries of community no longer lost to destruction and Darkness. But then, he drew her on further, to brush against another strong presence, currently curled into itself as tightly as possible.

Aayla touched the broken pieces of mental shielding, jagged with self-loathing. She reached past them, to press gently against Anakin Skywalker, and felt his mind shudder.

Master Skywalker, there’s too many of them! What are we going to do?

Ani, please-!

Stop this Anakin!

No, Lord Vader, I’m sorry- I won’t fail again-

If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.

I’ll never join you! You killed my father!

Father! Help me!

Father!

Aayla breathed in sharply. She didn’t shy away from the maelstrom of memories - rather, she leaned into them, wrapping her mind around Anakin’s own, waiting for something- anything- there!

Tell your sister... you were right, about me...

Anakin tried to flinch away from it, mind and body both. Aayla felt an echo of his head smacking into a wall, felt the faint sting of it. Then- an answering tap, against his chest. The pointed end of a gimer stick.

Master Yoda easily enveloped them both, his presence in the Force practically titan-sized, despite his physically diminutive form. The ancient Jedi layered his own shields around their minds, gentle as hand-knitted blankets, but stronger than the armor plating of a Star Destroyer. And then, he pressed forth a memory of his own.

A young man, barely more than a boy, reserved and serious but oh so brimming with hope. “I don’t believe you. There’s still good in him, I know it.” So stubborn, too reckless, and yet - so full of love. For one who’d wronged him, hurt him, and yet, Luke refused to focus on the Darkness.

He looked forward, towards the Light.

The heavy, insubstantial weight keeping the mangled bedframes pinned in place eased, just a tad. Just enough, that when Aayla rose to her feet and stepped forward, she could slip through the small gap opened for her. Quinlan cursed behind her, but didn’t try to follow - couldn’t, actually. His shoulders were too broad for the narrow space. She aimed a flicker of amusement back in his direction.

Once inside the room itself, Aayla didn’t try to hide the relief she felt at seeing the last few sleeping Jedi still lying on their own beds. Despite lashing out, Anakin maintained enough control not to fling his padawan or the other two younglings onto the floor.

Master Yoda, from his spot by the far wall, chuckled at her. “Good to see you, it is, Knight Secura.”

“And you Master.” Aayla slowly approached, keeping her footsteps light but audible, until she crouched in front of the teenager curled up in a corner. “Hello, Anakin.”

“Aayla,” the boy rasped. “What- what happened? This isn’t- why aren’t we dead?”

“Because the Force works in mysterious ways,” she said airly, drawing forth another chuckle from Yoda. “Which is to say, none of us have a single karking clue.”

A harsh, single bark of laughter escaped Anakin’s throat. “Great. Situation normal.” After a beat, he shifted slightly: an invitation. Aayla accepted it by plopping down beside him, opposite Yoda’s position. She was a little older than him, chosen to be Quinlan’s padawan not long after he’d become Obi-wan’s, following the Battle of Naboo. They hadn’t stayed close, not like their Masters, but there had been real friendship in those early years.

Anakin didn’t protest Aayla pressing her shoulder against his own. “You’re going to need to eat something, soon.”

“Not hungry.”

“You will be. I’ll make Master Quinlan go get us some trays from the refectory - he’s liable to pace a trench into the floor otherwise.”

Rather than prompt another laugh, her comment only served to send Anakin’s eyes skittering towards the barricaded doorway, and he winced. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Overwhelmed, you felt,” Yoda murmured. “Yet restraint, you still showed, hmm?” Long ears flapped towards the sole remaining beds, left untouched by Anakin’s outburst. “Solitude, you desired, but true harm, did you cause? No. No, you did not.”

“Tell that to the quartermaster,” Anakin grimaced. Aayla snorted at him. “What?”

“Trust me - you are not the only one of us to wake up and cause trouble. This might be, a little more dramatic than most others, but many other things in the Halls have needed replacing recently.”

The teenager clearly didn’t believe her, so Aayla let the topic go. They settled back into silence, giving Anakin time to continue calming down without burying himself in remorse.

Only well into the afternoon did Anakin finally relax enough to release his hold on the bedframe barrier. Master Eerin immediately bustled inside with her no-nonsense attitude, not saying a word about the delay as she went about checking Yoda and Anakin’s vitals. The wizened old Jedi let his amusement fill the Force around them; Aayla stayed close to the padawan in order to make certain he didn’t shut down out of sheer confusion. True to her earlier statement, Quinlan came in with two trays heaped with food, rolling his eyes when he set one down to ruffle Anakin’s short hair. “Don’t scare us like that again, kid.”

“I- won’t?”

“Good. Obi-wan’s outside, by the way. He’s managed to work himself into a tizzy, debating whether or not you want to see him.”

Fresh emotions immediately threatened to swell - remembered rage, remembered pain, but Anakin got a much faster grip on them than his initial awakening. A few deep breaths eased him back to mostly-settled, and the teenager tipped his head in a shallow nod. “Yes. I want- I want to see him. Please.”

“Alright. I’m gonna go keep an eye on the pipsqueak for him, then. Few more years and I think she might become your padawan-sister.” Anakin stared after Quinlan’s retreating back until the man ducked out into the hall, at which point he turned his bewilderment towards Aayla.

“Reva’s been his very dedicated shadow since he woke up,” she said. “They’re both looking after one another, keeping the grief at bay.”

Anakin managed a faint noise of surprise before Obi-wan himself appeared, and then he rather abruptly needed to focus on trying to breathe past the strong grip around his torso. Aayla simply smiled, and slid a little further out of Obi-wan’s hugging range.

Three younglings remained. Little Grogu. Young Ahsoka. And one final initiate, barely out of the creche, who awoke a day later.

“Kill Skywalker,” was all he would tell them. “The Emperor said, kill Skywalker.”

Aayla began inviting Anakin to meditate with her each day, to give Obi-wan a little more space. They’d managed to find a precarious balance, with the man dedicating set lengths of time to both his padawan and little Reva, but even grown masters needed some portion of the day to rest their own minds.

So. When Reva went to join other would-have-been Inquisitors for group therapy, Aayla brought Anakin with her to a quiet balcony overlooking the Room of a Thousand Fountains. They got off to several rocky starts, but as further time passed, the teenager found some measure of balance within himself again. He still avoided certain areas of the Temple, as well as certain Jedi within it, but Aayla came to think they were beyond the reactive outbursts.

Ironically, Mace Windu crossing their path with his grand-padawan one morning proved to be the true turning point.

“Anakin,” the steadfast man greeted, tipping his head into an acknowledging nod. Aayla paused, half a step further on from where Anakin had frozen in place. “I’m glad to see you up and about once more.”

“...right,” the teenager said in a faint voice. “Thank you, Master Windu. I’m- glad to be moving.” He hesitated for a long moment, before blurting out, “I- I need to apologize to you, sir.”

“No,” Windu replied immediately. You do not. Because you have done nothing to warrant it, Anakin, no matter what memories of another life you can recall.”

Aayla looked back and forth between them, wary. Neither master nor padawan seemed inclined to explain, however, so she internally sighed, accepting yet another mystery. And then young Dume popped out from Windu’s shadow. “You can apologize to me, if you want!”

“Uh.” Anakin’s dumb-founded blink nearly made Aayla burst out laughing. “I’m, sorry, who are you?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Figures. He nearly slices right through my shoulder guard and almost beheads my kid with his own lightsaber, but that’s just another day on the job, I guess.”

“Caleb,” Windu chided, nudging the youngling’s shoulder. “Mind yourself.”

“Wait- you’re not- one of the Lothal Jedi?”

“HA!” Dume punched a fist into the air, grinning. “Yes! We dropped that Walker on you, remember?”

“...vaguely,” Anakin admitted, which made Windu snort. “But I know you were on Malachor, with Ahsoka - how the kriff did your kid open that door for her at the last second?”

It turned into Dume’s turn to blink with confusion. “Huh?”

Aayla accepted that there would be a great many things she encountered in her life that defied explanation, just as there would be people with their own myriad stories who refused explanation. She could accept the frustration of Not Knowing, aware that nothing and no one owed her the details of their existence.

But such a blatant mystery of how a teenager went from escaping an exploding Sith Temple with his injured master, to suddenly pulling another Jedi through a doorway that didn’t exist? Aayla couldn’t help but feel the Force must be laughing at their incomprehension.

...at least on the bright side, Master Windu began to sometimes join her and Anakin’s meditations, whatever tension that existed between the two of them fading with every calmly exchanged word.

Master Yoda resumed his duties on the Council, as well as teaching youngling classes, and sometimes meeting with little would-have-been Inquisitors to meditate. But, when not engaged with any of these activities, he could most often be found sitting beside the beds of the last two Jedi to remain asleep.

And as such, he was the first to intervene when tiny Grogu awoke with a wail.

All Aayla knew of the initial few hours was that Yoda requested Master Yaddle’s presence, and the three of them remained isolated in a private, shielded room. And then, when Yaddle eventually emerged, an exhausted expression on her face, the old Jedi asked Aayla to gather a handful of others to come join them.

Quinlan. Anakin and Obi-wan. Windu, Billaba, and young Dume.

Aayla went, and tried not to think about what they were about to learn.

People in white and blue, bright, burning lights, his family falling and everything screaming and he tucked himself down into a ball, don’t see me don’t see me don’t see me-

Alone.

Alone by himself, no touch of a greater mind to curl around him and reassure, no others his size to all mingle together with giggles and happiness...

Alone except for the hard, cold ones, who dropped food in with him but nothing else, no warm hugs, no cuddles, no smiles. Until. Until he felt them disappearing, their sparks going dark, and a single burning flame came closer. He cooed, and a hand reached down, curious.

Someone to play with. Someone to watch. Someone who cared, when he came back and they left the scary minds behind. Someone who searched and searched and found, he found another of the shining minds, and Grogu leaned into the presence that wrapped all the way around him, cautious, but welcoming.

A new home. A new place, filled with others who shined, who could talk to him without words and practiced sitting and feeling and playing push-pull, which he’d missed for so long. They shared food and games and hugs, as freely as in his first home.

...and then the Bad Night happened. Again.

People in white and black, bright, burning lights, his friends falling and everything screaming and he tucked himself down into a ball-

Hands grabbed him up, desperate, terrified. She ran with him, stumbling and ducking, trying to stay out of sight, don’t see us don’t see us don’t see us! They reached the path. They slid to a stop. People with blasters turned, and shouted, and he raised his hands to do what he could - but someone else got there first. One of the older shining minds, not as old as Grogu but more than enough, with a burning-singing blade of his own. He whipped it back and forth, turning the blaster fire aside, not moving so much as an inch from where he stood.

But it couldn’t be sustained. Grogu knew it couldn’t, he’d been here before, he’d seen and heard and felt them all die.

And then another older mind arrived, furious and blazing. She came down from a great leap, and cut through the people shooting, slicing through their weapons as well as their armor. A second shining mind, much younger, came running past her as she finished, to crash into the one who’d defended Grogu and his friend and cling.

“Ahsoka?”

“Get to my ship. Don’t wait for anyone else, just take off and get to safety.”

The one who’d defended them turned, and helped Grogu’s friend stand up. “Alora? Where’s Pypey?”

She shook her head. Grief swelled. But they didn’t have time to mourn, didn’t have time to cry, there were still enemies everywhere and they needed to go. No one else tried to attack them, not until they reached Ahsoka’s small shuttle - more blaster fire, and their defender stopped to hold it back, yelling for them to get the ship in the air.

“Jacen-?”

“Yeah, I got it, come on Alora! Ezra’s right behind us!”

Grogu’s friend never put him down as she ran for a seat. The other youngling threw himself towards the pilot controls, firing up the engine and bringing shields online before anything else. Thrusters flared; landing gear lifted; navigation controls brought to life.

The ramp remained down until they all felt the thud of Ezra jumping aboard, and then Jacen hit the button to retract it. Their defender rushed into the cockpit, tense, his mind locked down so none of them could sense the rest of his emotions. He let Jacen stay in the pilot’s seat, taking the co-pilot spot instead and hastily entering a set of coordinates into the nav controls.

“Where are we going?” Alora asked, arms tight around Grogu.

“Mandalore. Either Djarin will take us in for the kid’s sake, or we can find Sabine’s clan, they’ll hide us for sure.”

“But what about- the school- the others-!”

“Luke’s got his own X-Wing behind the Temple, remember? And there’s another shuttle at the top of the mountain, the rest can head for that - or even if they don’t, Korto’s supposed to be here in a couple days for another supply drop, he’ll find anyone hiding in the forest. They’ll be okay, Alora. We’ll be okay.”

The relief only lasted until they got above the planet’s atmosphere. Because then the alarms blared over incoming ships, and Jacen yelped, yanking at the pilot’s yoke to drag them out of the way. Ezra cursed, grabbing for the controls to bring their solitary gun online, and Alora cried out, drawing her legs up to curl completely around Grogu on their shared seat.

He reached out for all of them. He’d been in this situation before, he was older than all of them combined, and he did for them what others had once done for him: wrapped his presence completely around all their minds, holding onto every scrap of warmth and reassurance he could find.

Alora’s hands stopped trembling quite so hard. Jacen’s panicked breathing slowed down. Ezra turned, looked right into Grogu’s eyes, and smiled. “The Force is with us.”

Everything exploded.

Aayla came out of the youngling’s memory with tears in her eyes.

Quinlan’s hand found hers, and squeezed, hard. Across from them in the meditation circle, Anakin had bent nearly double, with Obi-wan’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. Masters Yoda and Yaddle continued to look grave, as they’d already seen little Grogu’s experience before calling everyone else.

When Aayla looked to the left, her heart broke all over again.

Caleb Dume sat rigid, gaze distant, his face cracked down the middle with shock. He only managed to whisper “Ezra,” in a broken voice, before crumpling completely. Master Billaba caught him, and Windu pressed in close on the other side, both of them holding tight to the boy as he mourned.

They decided, as a group, not to inform the Temple at large about the second Jedi Order collapsing much as the first did. But they did record every name little Grogu could recall, and vowed that the children they belonged to would have a safer home to come to, in time.

Aayla couldn’t say for certain what woke her up in the middle of the night.

She remained in bed for a while, eyes closed, mind open. Nothing nudged her, pulled her; nothing trembled in the Force, requiring her attention. Even so, she sighed, and flipped the covers aside to rise.

Making a cup of tea didn’t take long. Rather than remain in her quarters to drink it, Aayla stepped into her slippers and went wandering. The Temple rested, quiet, full of sleeping or meditating Jedi. A few other awake minds brushed casually against her own as Aayla passed their rooms, but no one emerged, and she didn’t intrude.

At a junction in the corridors, she paused. One direction would take her down towards the Healing Halls. Another led towards the Temple’s entrance, and the last...

She turned towards the training salles.

Still, no warnings tugged at her attention, but Aayla felt something nonetheless. And her instinct proved true - stepping out onto an interior balcony, she spotted a single, solitary figure kneeling on the floor below.

Rather than backtrack towards a staircase, Aayla smoothly leapt down, without spilling the last few sips of tea from her cup. She eased closer, one slow step at a time, until reaching a point where she knelt herself.

Ahsoka didn’t so much as twitch the entire time.

The young togruta kept her breathing slow and steady, hands loosely clasped atop her folded knees. Aayla would think her meditating, if she hadn’t felt the sharp attention of Ahsoka’s mind the moment she entered the wide hall.

“...Sidious did his best, to fill this place with Darkness,” the other Jedi eventually spoke. “Pain. Fear. Misery. Hate. The one time I visited, after we beat the Empire- I could barely stand to enter the Temple, let alone inspect it. Luke listened, when I cautioned him against establishing the new Order here. But if he hadn’t...”

“They still would have come,” Aayla murmured back. “They would have found a way. A group of Jedi students, no matter where they learn, will always be too great a target for the Sith to ignore.”

Ahsoka breathed deeply, before opening her eyes. They looked far older than Aayla remembered. “I logged into a holoterminal, in the Healing Halls. I know I’m the last to wake up, but I don’t know what’s changed.”

“Palpatine is dead,” Aayla said immediately, and the togruta practically sagged with relief. “The Order is working very closely with his replacement to ensure another war does not take place. We’ve also begun restoring a few hidden locations around the galaxy, as safehouses, to keep partial copies of the Archives secure and shelter our members, should the need ever arise.”

A short nod. “Kamino?”

“...that, is more complicated.”

Aayla explained, about the emptied cities, the bodies left behind and those unaccounted for. Ahsoka listened closely, and when she finished, replied with a short phrase: “Yavin-Four.”

“What?”

“That’s where they’ll go. Yavin-four. It was a primary headquarters for the Rebel Alliance for years, and after we beat the Empire, several people went back to found a real settlement. That’s where Rex, Wolffe, and Gregor lived out their retirement - it’s where they’ll be waiting for me.”

Well then. That sounded like a trip was in order.

Chapter Text

Seasons they will change,
Life will make you grow,
Death can make you hard, hard, hard
Everything is temporary,
Everything will slide,
Love will never die, die, die

The debate over who should go to Yavin-Four took the better part of two days, with so many Jedi volunteering that Aayla honestly thought they’d be better off putting names inside a hat like some street fair raffle. Ahsoka never said a word throughout the entire process, not even to insist on her own inclusion, which seemed quite odd to several of those who knew her.

In hindsight, Aayla realized the youngling only waited so long in order to give at least one hug to every friend she had in the Temple.

(The reunion with Anakin and Obi-wan went... roughly, to say the least. Barriss, even more so. Plo Koon the girl could thankfully embrace without reservation, and Padawan Dume she smacked upside the head before pulling aside for a long, emotional conversation.)

Aayla found herself following the togruta around for most of her brief visits, picking up small tidbits from the different interactions, and gradually building a more complete picture of the new Ahsoka in her mind’s eye. Which was why, at the end of the second day, Aayla slipped into one of the Temple’s smaller hangars, and found the youngling busy preparing to fuel up a hyper-capable shuttle craft.

Their eyes met. Ahsoka’s face remained impassive. Aayla crossed her arms, bringing a little more attention to the bag hanging from her shoulder, but didn’t say a word. They could have remained like that another ten minutes, easily, if Caleb Dume hadn’t suddenly poked his head out the rear hatch. “Hey, do we need to bring- oh. Uh. Hi, Master Secura?”

“Hello.”

“...aaare, you coming with us?”

“That depends,” Aayla hummed, still staring at Ahsoka. “How much room does your ship have for passengers?”

Ahsoka’s eyes narrowed, and Dume glanced back and forth between them, clearly conflicted. “Well. Uh. Not, that much? We’re, mostly planning to meditate, on the way.” One of his friend’s lekku twitched with annoyance, and the boy winced. “I uh, I’d better finish the pre-flight checks... or something... yeah.”

He disappeared back inside. Aayla fought hard to keep from smiling, though a small hint of her amusement did manage to slip past her mental shields. After another moment, Ahsoka took a deep breath, and let it out again in a dramatic sigh. “Who else are you going to call?”

“His master, to start. I realize you both remember becoming fully recognized Jedi in your own rights, but I doubt Master Billaba will take it well if her padawan disappears in the middle of the night cycle.”

“I left her a note!” Dume hollered from within the ship.

“Not good enough,” Aayla called back. “And, similarly, Master Plo will be most distressed that you left in such a manner. He’s visited you almost every day for months, Ahsoka.”

The togruta did wince at that, her shoulders slumping. “Alright. Plo and Billaba. But not Anakin or Obi-wan.”

“Of course not. Anakin’s going to need his master to lean on while I’m gone, and if they both came we’d have to bring Reva as well - which would not, I imagine, work out for the better. But, I would like to include one other member of your lineage...”

And so, within half an hour, Depa Billaba, Plo Koon, and Master Yoda all made their way into the hangar, small traveling bags in hand. Dume sheepishly welcomed his master aboard, after she finished thanking Aayla for the call. Plo drew Ahsoka into a quick hug before going to stake out his own spot in one of the tiny cabins, and Yoda outright laughed in his odd way when he joined them. “Patient you were, to have waited so long, hm? And yet, not enough patience, to wait for the Council’s decision.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing we have three Council members coming with us,” Ahsoka replied. Yoda chortled a second time, jabbing his gimer stick towards her shin. The togruta neatly side-stepped it.

“A youngling, you have become again, Ahsoka Tano,” the ancient Jedi hummed. “A master, you will need, to grow into a Knight once more. But not Skywalker this time, hmm?”

“No,” she whispered, both sad and wistful. “Not Anakin.”

Yoda nodded, his ears fluttering, his face a little more somber. “Trust him, you no longer can. Years, it may take, for enough new memories to replace the old. And other lessons, you require. So- your teacher, I will be, in this life. If a Jedi, you still wish to remain.”

Aayla blinked.

Ahsoka didn’t react for a long moment. But she did, eventually, bow to the shorter Jedi. “May I have some time to consider it, Master Yoda?”

“Time, yes, time you may have. Several days, this trip will take, hm? And only meditation, I have been informed, to keep ourselves occupied. Consider it, young Tano. Reflect you must, on where you have been, and where you are going.”

With that, Yoda shuffled up the short ramp.

Aayla watched him go before glancing at Ahsoka, who appeared- thoughtful, more than anything else. A console on the side of the ship beeped, signaling fuel and other fluid levels to be at peak capacity. Ahsoka disengaged the hoses, slid the panel shut, and returned to the rest of their departure checklist.

At first, meditation meant immersing themselves within the tranquility of the Force as hyperspace spun around the small ship. Trillions of lives glittered near and far, clustered together or separated by vast distances, all humming steadily in their shared existence. Time and light and gravity spun together, locked in their paths to continue moving the entire galaxy forward, and the rest of the universe beyond it.

But embracing the vastness around them could only last for so long.

Early on the second day of travel, Ahsoka and Master Plo were checking the navigation system in the cockpit, Master Billaba and her padawan were sleeping in the smaller cabin, and Aayla sat with Master Yoda. She’d been thinking about Bly, the first time he’d tried meditating with her - which had very swiftly turned into only Aayla meditating, with the commander slumped against her, sound asleep. She’d stayed like that for nearly three hours, amusement softening into contentment, until not so distant blaster fire startled them both into full awareness.

Master Yoda chuckled gently. Aayla felt his presence settle a little closer, offering a memory of his own. Three clones, wearing armor decorated with Coruscant Guard symbols, shining with exuberant joy as they cheered - a massive shelf of stone collapsing, crushing several Separatist tanks into rubble - the ancient Jedi finding himself a spot to sit and wait, local birds fluttering around him without the slightest trace of fear...

...he walked past them without the slightest trace of fear, no concern at all for Jedi or Sith... a dual bladed lightsaber came out of the cane and ignited, struck- they had no choice but to join the fight, three on three, red and blue and white blades clashing in the darkness-

-that same line of blazing, screaming plasma coming straight towards his face-!

Aayla jolted, eyes snapping open. Across from her, Master Yoda bounded swiftly to his feet, and hurried out the open door to the cabin across the hall from them. When Aayla got there as well, the lingering shadows of the dream were all but dissipated, young Dume upright and gasping. He kept one hand pressed across both eyes; the other clung to his master’s arm as she practically wrapped herself around him.

“Kanan,” Ahsoka barked.

“I’m okay,” the boy managed to say. “I’m- okay.” After a tense moment, he lowered his right hand, slowly blinking in the artificial light. “...I am okay. Kriff.” He seemed to finally notice the rest of them all gathered around, and winced, mouth opening again to most likely apologize.

“Nightmares, we all suffer from, youngling,” Master Yoda said to cut him off. “Moments of fear and pain, lashing out, when safe, we consider ourselves to be. Be not ashamed of them, hmm. Acknowledge the memory. Learn from it, and be better prepared in future, yes?”

“Yes, Master.” Dume slumped back against Billaba. “No letting my guard down in front of any more Sith Lords.”

Ahsoka snorted. “Still reacted fast enough to keep him from taking your head off, didn’t you?”

“Well. Yeah. But I’d really rather not go blind a second time if I can help it.”

Master Plo eventually drew Ahsoka back towards the cockpit, and Yoda went with them. Aayla chose to remain with the master and padawan pair, neither of whom could quite bring themselves to attempt another nap. So, instead, she asked young Dume if he felt willing to share more about his previous life.

The coaxing paid off. He spoke of survival, of minor bits of resistance; of true rebellion gathering at the corners of the galaxy, aided by agents as far away as the Core worlds. Tales of Hera Syndulla, Garazeb Orrelios, Chopper and Sabine Wren- and Ezra Bridger.

“He was a pain in the butt,” Dume said fondly, “But a quick learner. I thought trying to teach a teenager the lessons I’d known since I was a toddler would be hard, but... turned out to be easier, in some ways. Even if there was a stretch when we had some issues with the Dark Side tempting him.”

Billaba hummed. “Do not discount your efforts, padawan-mine. Even Temple raised Jedi can have those same challenges in their adolescence. Or later years.”

Dooku, for example. (Anakin, for another.)

“Okay, fair point,” the boy grimaced, likely thinking the same names as Aayla. “But I don’t think he’ll have anywhere near as much trouble this time, if he’s in one of our creches to start with.” A pause. “Um. We can go get him in a few years, right? Even if I don’t become his master again, Ezra still deserves to be a Jedi-”

“Yes, we can go to Lothal and fetch your student,” his teacher promised, smiling as she reached to ruffle Dume’s hair. “And all will be as the Force wills it, Caleb.”

“And right now,” Aayla cut in, “The Force wills that you share more about your Rebellion.”

The boy grinned wider, and kept on with his storytelling.

Ahsoka did her best to go without sleep for most of their journey. She remained awake for long stretches, meditating frequently, and taking short ten or fifteen minute naps to stave off exhaustion. Perfectly necessary, for a lone agent sneaking about the galaxy, raising up and uniting rebels against an oppressive enemy who could bear down upon her without a moment’s warning.

But not remotely called for, when surrounded by a group of fellow Jedi, which made Aayla suspect the girl rather wanted to avoid any of her own nightmares coming to call.

Master Plo wound up resorting to dosing Ahsoka’s tea with a bottle Aayla recognized from the Healing Halls, and carrying the togruta to bed when she practically passed out in the pilot’s seat. Following young Dume’s prior experience, all of them remained ready, just in case.

Just over three hours later, a sense of fear slowly spread throughout the ship, like ink spilled into clear water. Aayla, seated on the floor, glanced up to where Master Plo sat on the edge of the cabin’s lower bunk, Ahsoka’s head carefully pillowed against his leg. The togruta trembled, once. Twice. The fear deepened, and Aayla took a deep breath before letting herself sink into the Force.

Anakin Skywalker was weak... I destroyed him...

Then I will avenge his death

Revenge is not the Jedi way

I am no Jedi

Movement too fast to be seen, only sensed, white plasma crashing against red, electric blasts crackling through the air

He was larger, and stronger, but he had always been larger and stronger, and she was faster- but that advantage began to waver, as she slowed, her muscles flagging, barely able to reach for the Force for help in a place so steeped with Darkness

His saber crashed down against both of hers, and she strained, keeping the weight of him back- back- he shoved her back, too quick, too hard, over the edge and d o w n - !

Off the platform, away from the fight, slamming into the stone- reeling from the sudden shift and struggling to catch herself- she needed to get back up, she NEEDED to go back UP, he would cut the others apart far too easily, she had to stop him, she Could Not Leave Him-

Plo caught her, when Ahsoka jerked upright. As soon as there was room, Aayla slid onto the bunk as well, both of them bracketing the youngling as she shuddered. And once again, Master Yoda tap-tap-tapped his way into the cabin, coming up directly in front of her, with Billaba and Dume taking their turn to linger in the open doorway.

“The rest, you will show us,” the ancient Jedi insisted, softly. After taking in a few more deep, heaving breaths, Ahsoka nodded. She took a moment to arrange herself in a proper meditation position, centered and upright, though Aayla and Plo remained close enough to touch should she require the reassurance.

And together, the five of them bore witness to the last Temple-raised Jedi’s memories.

The impact left her dazed, stunned. Only a dramatic increase of noise and light from above managed to rouse her, and she struggled upright through sheer strength of will. It took too long to regain the upper platform - Kanan and Ezra were attempting to retreat, stolen holocron in hand, Vader inexorably drawing them back. She didn’t think- she didn’t need to. One rapid charge, a leap, a slash: Vader cried out, collapsing, and she fell to the ground beyond him.

The others kept moving, thank the Force. Because when Vader spoke, with Anakin’s voice, Ahsoka knew she couldn’t walk away a second time.

So the fight continued. Even with the walls closing shut around them, the other Jedi gone, the massive central obelisk about to explode... they fought. Master and Apprentice, together at the end. Up until the moment Ahsoka shoved him back, and drove her ‘sabers into the ground, intending- something, ANYTHING, and then- then a hand, from nowhere, catching hold of her shoulder. Vader fell away, the entire world fell away, and she collapsed once more.

“...Ahsoka?”

Wrong. Or- not right, at least. Ezra, but not, hair too short and body too tall, and- Black, all around them, except a few distant stars, and the far closer paths and doors formed only of seemingly insubstantial white lines. He tried to explain, and she tried to understand, but more questions rose up even before the first ones could be answered.

“You’ve... missed a lot.”

“...and five years after that, Luke managed to bring enough of Anakin back to the surface for him to turn on Sidious at just the right moment,” Ahsoka said in a hushed tone, back straight but head bowed. “I think- I tell myself, he was the only one who could have managed it, but-”

Yoda grumbled, tapping his stick once upon the floor. “But nothing, young Tano. In the Force, a beacon, Luke was. A goal, for Vader to strive toward. Only the past, could he see, in anyone else.”

The togruta didn’t say anything to that, but her expression turned contemplative, rather than guilty.

Further nightmares tried to darken their journey. Master Plo’s featured his starfighter going up in flames, falling towards the far distant ground, but with all of his Wolfpack’s ships exploding around him, dying clones and Jedi alike tumbling from the blazing wreckage. Billaba, similarly, went through her own final moments on repeat, but each time she turned to yell for her padawan to run, he or another member of the Order took on blaster fire instead, collapsing too far out of reach.

Aayla also dreamed of dying. Of the moment she heard her men bring up their weapons, causing her heart to jolt, because they’d clearly noticed a threat that slipped beneath her notice. But instead of something in the jungle, their shots slammed into her, knocking her forward and into a great dark void, spinning uncontrollably as an overwhelming voice laughed with every distant star to disappear.

Only Master Yoda’s solitary nightmare stayed silent. Utterly silent, devoid of any sound, as he stood within the halls of the Temple, surrounded by the bodies of the fallen. Crechelings, initiates, padawans, knights, masters; all the other members of the Council, including Billaba and Plo and Obi-wan; Jedi who hadn’t died in the attack, Jedi who’d perished years beforehand; and at the very end, a pair of human children, similar enough to be siblings. The girl’s hair was long and brown - the boy’s short and blonde.

Ahsoka sat next to the ancient Jedi for a long time after he awoke, neither of them saying a word.

“Have you considered Master Yoda’s offer at all?”

Aayla studied the togruta beside her, just the two of them in the cockpit. Ahsoka didn’t say anything for a long moment, her gaze pinned to the nav readout: less than two hours before they reached Yavin-Four.

“...I have,” she finally answered. Aayla tipped her head, encouraging. “I think- I think I will. Accept, that is. I do still want to be a Jedi. One who prevents wars, instead of fighting in them.”

“Don’t we all,” Aayla murmured. “Don’t we all.”

“Inbound vessel, identify yourself.”

The voice came as an undeniable relief. So much so, that if Aayla hadn’t already been sitting down, she might have dropped to her knees. From the way Master Plo suddenly gripped the steering yoke, she didn’t think herself alone in that reaction.

Ahsoka leaned forward between them, grinning, as she flipped a switch to broadcast back. “Yavin-Four, this is the Jedi shuttle Dorn-Zerek-three-zero-two, requesting landing coordinates.”

“...Jedi shuttle?” The clone’s voice took on an unmistakable startled tone.

“That’s right. Could someone please inform Captain Rex of the five hundred and first attack battalion that Fulcrum and Spectre One are here?”

“Uh.” Muffled words flew between at least three individuals, a hasty conference, likely with someone’s hand hastily placed over the microphone. “Copy that. Hold your orbital trajectory, Dorn-Zerek.”

“I suspect,” Master Billaba hummed, “That someone of higher rank is being summoned.” The Force around them practically glowed with amusement, overtop the sheer joy of Ahsoka’s guess being correct.

It took less than five minutes for the comm to crackle back to life, just long enough for their ship to have curved far enough around the gas giant to see the moon in question. The new voice, similar enough to the first to be another clone, rang with much stronger emotion. “‘Soka.”

Plo Koon made a pained noise. “Wolffe?”

“Commander,” Ahsoka said, reaching to grasp hold of the Kel Dor’s shoulder. “We came with some extra company.”

“...how many,” Wolffe rasped, the words rougher than mere static could account for. She rattled off their names, and Aayla rather thought she could hear someone else’s sudden gasp in the background. “Alright. Sending coordinates. We couldn’t- it’s not quite the same. As before.”

“Understood,” Ahsoka reassured him. “We look forward to seeing you soon.”

“Likewise, ‘Soka. General.” With that, the transmission cut off a second time, before their comm chimed with a received databurst. Master Plo didn’t hesitate to adjust course, bringing them down and around the small moon.

In the following silence, young Dume unexpectedly spoke up. “If Gregor is there, you get to distract him.” Ahsoka promptly snorted a laugh, and some of the earlier humor bubbled back up.

By the time they reached the designated landing site, at least two hundred men had gathered in a crowd around it. Through the shuttle’s small viewscreen, Aayla could see a decent number of them in painted armor, but many and more of the clones instead wore clothes in a riot of colors. She idly wondered where in the galaxy they’d gotten ahold of so much fabric.

Then a smaller knot of men moved closer to the ship, the Force trembling with anticipation, and all Aayla could focus on was getting out and around to them.

Bly met her three steps from the ramp.

He skidded to a stop, mouth opening to speak, but she tackled him before the man could get a single word out. They didn’t quite topple over from the impact, but- it was a near thing. Fortunately, with Bly swiftly backpedaling and Aayla extending a touch of the Force, they managed to remain upright, even as she wrapped herself as fully around him as possible, arms and legs and lekku.

A choked laugh shook its way loose from Bly’s throat. Aayla hugged him even tighter.

Someone nearby whistled, and she sensed more than saw her commander shift an arm in their direction to raise a single finger. Snickering, Aayla dropped her feet back to the ground and eased back. Just a little. One arm stayed firmly around Bly’s waist. He left one of his own curled around her shoulders, a single lek looped over his elbow.

By that point the rest of the Jedi had disembarked, and Aayla got to watch the blurred shape of Ahsoka go hurtling towards another clone, who dropped to one knee in order to catch her with a tad more grace than Bly’s frantic recovery. Neither Masters Plo or Billaba ran quite so quickly to their own commanders, but- close enough. Even Master Yoda stumped his way out, towards a few men who started to tentatively smile when he headed in their direction. More clones began to pull in from the crowd, forming hesitant circles around each Jedi, practically the same hopeful wariness emanating from every single man.

Someone let out a shaky breath.

Shifting, Aayla peered back at Caleb Dume, who’d yet to have stepped off their ship’s ramp. “Padawan?”

“...almost twenty years,” the boy eventually responded, gesturing towards the clones. “And this still- makes me nervous.”

Of course. He’d spent longer than any of them being actively pursued by troopers - of course the boy needed a moment longer to steady himself. Aayla started to reassure him to take as long as needed, but-

“Caleb!”

A young clone, one likely not deployed until partway through the war, jogged towards them. Rather than the trepidation most of his brothers displayed, he looked overjoyed, and Aayla could only glean a sense of steady determination from his mind.

Dume blinked, clearly taken aback. Then he apparently recognized the approaching youngling, as the boy’s eyes widened dramatically. “Stance!”

Laughter, from both of them, as Dume jumped off the edge of the ramp into his friend’s outstretched arms. Shorter than yourself and you don’t know the half of it and further delighted comments flew back and forth between them; Aayla settled back to lean against Bly, content that Dume didn’t need much reassurance after all.

“That’s the Lothal Jedi we’ve been hearing about?” Bly asked, murmuring practically next to her ear cone. “Janus?”

“Jarrus,” Aayla corrected absently. “He called himself Kanan Jarrus.” And now, with any luck at all, the boy wouldn’t need to ever go by his alias again. She smiled, and turned with Bly to face the 327th troopers waiting their own turns to say hello.

“-so Rex and Gerrera shoot the bridge loose, and the whole thing comes down in one piece. I grab it with the Force, and rotate the rock so it mostly spans the distance between us and the far side of the chasm.” Dume spun his hands as he spoke, the gestures rather more exuberant than usual to accompany the story. “And I hold it there, even as they tip-toe their way across, pieces starting to crack and break off- yes it was hard, thank you Soot- anyway. They make it. Then I jump across, and start to go on, because we’re supposed to be in a hurry after the Geonosian, right?”

“I still hate that planet,” Bly muttered, half-smiling, and Aayla smacked his chest with the back of her hand to forestall any further comments.

“Behind me, Gerrera says ‘I always forget they can do that’, and then Rex goes ‘yeah, but he’s no Skywalker.” Several dozen clones burst out laughing. Possibly more at Dume’s peeved expression than the actual story, but still. The large underground hall where they’d gathered no longer felt the slightest bit tense or hesitant; rather, Dume and his master managed to create an almost celebratory atmosphere. Aayla could just see the top of Billaba’s head as she moved about the fringes of the crowd, speaking quietly with any clones who held themselves apart, spreading the reassurances that they needed to hear.

Yes, more Jedi want and likely will come.

No, they do not hold their troopers responsible for the Purge.

...no, not all of them are alright, just yet.

“But we are making progress,” Aayla had told Bly, when he asked the same questions. “The younglings who were captured and tortured into Falling... they will require the most time. But they are healing, along with the rest of us.”

It served to satisfy him. Eventually, it satisfied all her men who were present, and enough of them drifted away again that Aayla felt comfortable settling in a cozy corner with Bly.

They did not do anything, of course, but it- it felt nice, getting to fit herself against him, content with the knowledge that they did not need to prepare for another campaign, that no droids would attack in the dead of night. Bly clearly appreciated the sense of safety just as much, his head tipped to rest against hers, both of them simply observing the hall rather than holding themselves alert to keep watch.

Elsewhere, Ahsoka and Plo and Yoda were engaged in debate with Rex, Wolffe, and others, to both determine a visiting schedule for Jedi who wished to see their men and an avenue of Republic citizenship for all the clones. Perhaps Aayla could let herself worry about that, about the end results, but- it was only a first step in a long road. The Force hummed with contentment, and she did not fear to do the same.

A small party waited, when their shuttle returned to the Temple on Coruscant. Quinlan, of course; Obi-wan and Anakin; Masters Windu and Yaddle; and Luminara with Barriss half-hidden towards the back.

Aayla smiled at them all as she disembarked, Bly half a step behind her.

Outtakes:

“Master Yoda offered to take me on as his padawan, just before we left. I decided to accept.”

“That- that’s good, Ahsoka. You’ll do great.”

Hesitation. “...you can still call me Snips. If you want to.”

A pause. A smile. “Only if you still call me Skyguy.”

“Deal.”

“You really don’t need to feel obligated to follow me around anymore, Cody-”

“All due respect, Obi-wan, who the kriff else is going to snag your lightsaber when you drop it? And besides, your new shiny is going to need acclimation to help her get used to more clones being around the Temple.”

“...you may have a point.”

“I have two points.”

“I can’t fight. I can’t trust myself yet not to- to go too far. Overreact.”

“Understood, Com- Barriss. If, you don’t mind, I’ve taken the liberty of creating a roster of men who’d like to expand their medical knowledge here. Maybe you can help teach some of them?”

Fingers hover, outstretched, uncertain. “Master?”

“It sounds like a fine idea to me, Padawan. Certainly within your capabilities - but if you aren’t comfortable doing so, then it is also perfectly alright to decline.”

“No, I- I think I’d like to. Healing and teaching sounds, better than anything else, in all honesty.”

Another hand catches the first, squeezing gently. “Then healing and teaching it is. And thank you, Gree, for suggesting it.”

“Anytime.”

Muffled giggling and hissed orders to keep quiet. Young men fail to sneak down a corridor, delighted younglings perched upon shoulders or draped across backs. Many an older Jedi hears or sees or senses them, but all turn away with hidden smiles and their own, internal, laughter. No one would begrudge the little ones a late night snack, after all, nor their exceedingly diligent if painfully obvious minders.

“-with a primary focus in the Outer Rim, especially the areas around Hutt space. Supply distribution, infrastructure repairs, and definitely laying the groundwork for pipelines to smuggle runaway slaves into the Republic.”

“Very good, Wolffe. I will personally bring this to our allies in the Senate; they may edit the language somewhat, but I have no doubt our funding will come through.”

“If you say so, sir. I’d still just as soon rob the Banking Clan and set up shop for ourselves.”

“All in due time, my boy. All in due time...”

“Wait. I thought Kestis was Junda’s padawan and Suduri’s with Tapal?”

“No- well. Maybe?”

Yavin-Four gains a new Jedi Temple. One with a back-up Archive, extensive physical training facilities, and fully stocked workshops for assembling lightsabers and blasters alike.

The main temple on Coruscant doubles in population, many empty halls suddenly bursting with life, identical faces of all ages coming to learn from those who would happily teach them - and inspire some lessons in humility for those who would not.

“Uhh... Master Krell?”

Paint with glitter. Fast-hardening glue. Tiny pieces of confetti in a dozen different colors.

“You are to keep quiet about this incident, Initiate.”

“Well... I would sir, but-”

A holorecorder at the far end of the hall.

(In some ways, it will never be enough.

In others, it is more than any of them could have ever dreamed.)

I know that ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh,
Birds fly, in different directions
Ooh, ooh, ooh, oooh,
I hope, to see you again