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She’s on Mustafar again, the heat burning her skin and the roar of the lava filling her head. She’s alone, or at least, she should be. But she can feel the presence of another—dark and thick; swallowed in hate and anger and rage.
She’s not sure why she goes after it, but she does. Because though she feels those dark and violent emotions, she feels something else.
She feels pain and fear—whoever or whatever is on Mustafar with her is terrified and even though they might try to kill her, it wouldn’t be very Jedi-like to ignore a soul in pain.
So she follows their dark and hollow Force Presence into the large structure and tries not to let her eyes stray on the bodies of the Separatists that litter the floor, struck down and covered in wounds she recognizes as having been caused by a lightsaber.
So whoever she senses is a Sith yet she’s not afraid. They’re scared and she cannot leave them alone any longer. It’s odd, she thinks. She should be drawing her weapon and preparing for battle yet all she feels is…sad.
Like the only reason this Sith has fallen to the dark is…because of her.
She’s not sure how long she walks before she finds him—a figure all in black with a gleaming red lightsaber at his side. Mechanical breathing fills the halls and Ahsoka listens to it for a few moments as she looks him over. A mask covers his face, concealing his identity, but she knows who he is all the same.
“Anakin.” It has been a long time since she called him master. Seeing where they stand now, it hardly feels appropriate.
“Apprentice.” His voice is much lower, clearly modulated by something below the helmet.
He does not extinguish his blade and she does not draw her own. They stand there, silent, staring at one another until Ahsoka takes a small step forward and says,
“I’m so sorry.”
She can feel him tremble, in the Force, but physically he remains unmoved. “You side with Kenobi.”
“I side with good ,” Ahsoka corrected. “Can’t you see that what you’re doing is wrong?”
“I’m doing it for her.”
“Who?”
“She’s going to die and the Jedi won’t help.” His voice shakes—even with the modulation keeping it mostly even, she can tell. “They can’t know and I can’t let her die. You don’t understand, Ahsoka, this is the only way.”
“Who is going to die?”
“Padme.”
Ahoska pressed her lips together. “How?”
“In childbirth.”
“She’s pregnant?” He nodded. “How do you know this? Have you been told?”
“I’ve had…visions. Dreams. Just like the ones of my mother.”
“How do you know the Jedi won’t help?”
“How do you know they will ?”
That was a very fair question. “Has someone else offered to help you?” She asked instead. “Has someone told you the Jedi wouldn’t help or did you make that conclusion on your own.”
He shifted and she knew she’d found her answer—not from a telling reply but rather because of the lack of one. Instead of speaking, he lifted his lightsaber.
“I’ve had enough of talking,” he said. “That’s all you Jedi do. All you ever do is talk .”
“And what about the person who said they’d save Senator Amidala?” Ahsoka asked, still not drawing her own weapon. “Have they started helping Senator Amidala? Or have they just talked about it.”
“In order to help her, the Jedi have to die.”
Ahsoka frowned. “Doesn’t that sound a little backwards to you?” She asked. “A life for a life, I mean. Doesn’t that feel wrong ?”
“If it saves Padme-”
“Who told you?” She cut him off and crossed her arms over her chest, trusting the Force to help her be fast enough in defending herself, if he decided he’d had enough of their talk and decided to go for her head. “Who said they could help her and the Jedi couldn’t? Did they tell you the Jedi couldn't or did they say that the Jedi wouldn’t ?” He was silent for so long that she thought he just wasn’t going to reply. So she gently prompted, “Do you really trust this person more than Master Kenobi?”
“Obi-Wan is a Jedi.”
“Yes,” Ahsoka agreed. “But he’s also your master . He raised you, Anakin-”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Your name ?” She asked, trying not to laugh.
“That’s not my name. Not anymore.”
“Okay, then what is it?”
“Darth Vader.”
“There is no way you named yourself that.” She felt Vader bristle through the Force as he lifted his weapon towards her. She just raised an eyebrow. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said calmly.
“It doesn’t matter if you are,” Vader said. “I will strike you down regardless.”
“So do it,” Ahsoka taunted. “Kill me.”
Still, Vader did not move. “The only way to save Padme-”
“Is to kill hundreds of us?” Ahsoka asked, raising an eyebrow. “In case you’ve forgotten, Anakin , we’re at war. If the Jedi die, guess who wins? Not the Republic, that's for certain.”
“The Republic is dead. I serve only the Empire now.”
“Alright, let me ask something else,” Ahsoka decided. “Are you trusting this person instead of Master Kenobi because he’s promised you power?”
“I will do whatever it takes to save Padme.”
“Have you considered that if you kill the Jedi, you kill her too?” Vader was silent. “Have you considered that maybe , if you go down this path, this is the exact thing that causes her death?”
“Enough.”
“You haven’t, have you? You haven’t because you’ve become corrupt .” Her fingers itched for her weapon but she knew the moment she drew her sabers, it was over. Anakin would be lost to the darkness and one of them would die here amidst fire and lava. “ Anakin . Do you really think Padme would want you to do this.”
He flinched—a violent, full bodied movement that made it look as though he’d been punched. Even with the helmet on, Ahsoka felt like she knew the exact expression of pure distress on his face.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she decided. “Don’t do this. Don’t kill the Jedi, don’t follow this person. If you can’t trust Master Kenobi or the Order, fine, but trust me .”
“I do.”
Ahsoka smiled. “So trust me when I say that you don’t have to kill the Jedi to save Padme. I promise. However, if I am wrong and something happens…you can strike me down first. I won’t even fight back.” Her expression grew serious. “I swear on the Force.”
Ahsoka woke and it took her too long to realize that the events she felt she’d just lived through had been nothing more than a dream. Rolling onto her side, she saw the clock on the table read that it was still late enough to be considered night-cycle.
So she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she whispered, “Please be okay, Skyguy.”