Work Text:
It’s funny, Bo-Katan thought to herself, how quickly things in your life can turn around.
She could remember when Ahsoka Tano was nothing but a brief thorn in her side. An annoyance that she’d been glad to see the back of. A once-foe that for the longest time she had expected never to cross paths with again.
If you’d told her even just weeks ago that the Togruta would become someone she would seek out for help in the reclamation of her home, she never would’ve believed you. But now, her present self struggled to believe that she ever looked at this other woman and felt anything but fondness. The last weeks should’ve been one of the hardest times of Bo-Katan’s life, as she plotted and fought to reclaim Mandalore from the villain who had slaughtered her sister. And it hadn’t been easy, not by a long shot. But for every bad moment - for every horrendous, shattering moment that she thought would drown her beyond saving - there was a moment of warmth, of ease and safety. And every single one of those moments had been provided to her by Ahsoka.
They had spent almost every moment together, working and otherwise. Waking and sleeping. Bo could barely remember how the arrangement of having Ahsoka sleeping beside her had started, but she could also barely remember how she used to sleep alone. The comfort of having someone beside her, someone there to wake her if she had a nightmare, or to hold her when her emotions hit a little too hard while expecting nothing in return - absolutely nothing - was so incredibly foreign to her, and yet simultaneously she didn’t know how she ever survived without it.
She was about to find out, though.
Bo-Katan and Ahsoka’s time together had come to an end. Mandalore was won, sort of. Ahsoka was set to leave, and Bo had to find a way to say goodbye without hurting her already fragile heart.
She never even got the chance to say it properly.
She wished that they had time to themselves before Ahsoka had to leave. There was so much she wanted to say. So, so much. But none of it could be heard by prying ears. To her Nite Owls, to the rest of the Mandalorians, to Ahsoka’s Clones, their relationship was nothing more than business. They would never understand the deep intricacies of their bond, especially the speed at which they had formed. In their final moments together, they had to remain strictly professional, and that pulled at Bo’s heart more than the thought of saying goodbye ever could.
They walked side by side through the city, their conversation focused purely on their victory, though Bo wondered if Ahsoka longed for a deeper conversation as much as she herself did.
“Still, you succeeded where many failed.” She told the other woman, as Ahsoka belittled her success in a way that Bo also would have done, in her situation.
And not just with Maul, she wanted to say, you succeeded where many have failed with me. You got me to open up. You made me feel safe in a way no one has in a long time. You’re what’s been missing all this time. I wish you could stay.
“I’ve learned from the best,” came Ahsoka’s response, “including you.”
Bo felt as though she might cry. And if they were alone - if it were just herself and Ahsoka, alone in her room, sharing one of their more vulnerable moments, maybe she would have. But she couldn’t now. She swallowed it down.
“I wish I was good at something other than war.”
Maybe if I were good at something else, you’d find reason to stay with me.
She turned and walked away from Ahsoka, instead looking over at the Mandalorians below her. That was easier than seeing her reaction, easier than looking at the girl who was about to walk out of her life quicker than she’d come into it. She heard Ahsoka walk up to stand beside her.
“Your people need a new kind of leader.”
Bo hated the way her heart dropped when Ahsoka didn’t respond to her previous comment. Something else that would’ve happened if they were alone. If it was just them. If their final few precious moments together weren’t snatched away from them. If they were able to talk freely - and not just about the needs of Mandalorians and Jedi alike.
What about what I need?
“My sister tried that. I never understood her idealism.”
I’m scared. I don’t know how to do this. I never thought this far ahead. I don’t want to do this alone.
She wanted to say it. She wanted to disregard everyone around her, to turn to Ahsoka and admit everything, to ask if maybe, just maybe, she’d consider staying - if she’d even consider doing what needed to be done now, and then coming back, and continuing to stand by Bo’s side as she had done so well until now.
She didn’t get the chance. Another voice cut through the silence that had fallen between them before Bo’s could.
“Commander. I have the council waiting.”
Just like that, Ahsoka’s attention was gone from Bo-Katan, as the former turned to face the Clone who had spoken. Bo swallowed down the hurt that stabbed at her.
I could still ask. Maybe I’ll still ask.
“And Master Skywalker? Were you able to contact him?” Ahsoka asked, hope and eagerness jumping through her voice.
Bo’s words died in her throat. She couldn’t ask her to stay. She had a life. A life so far behind Mandalore and Bo-Katan. Bo could barely even expect to be a part of her life, let alone its centre. Who was to say these past weeks had meant the same to Ahsoka as they had to her, anyway? Maybe Bo had just been an anchor in a storm. Useful in the moment. Useless once the moment had passed. She was used to being that, after all.
“He was at the meeting when I left to get you.”
I have to let her go.
She swallowed, and spoke the words she had to speak, locking the words she wanted to speak in a cage in her mind.
“Go on. I can handle this.”
Ahsoka’s attention was back on Bo-Katan again. She held Bo’s eyes in her own for could have been an eternity. Bo knew she was searching them for a hint of a lie. She wondered whether Ahsoka could see what she was really saying, what she really wanted, deep down.
Please stay.
Ahsoka didn’t stay.
She turned, and left.
Bo watched as she walked away, her heart aching more with each step the other woman took. She knew it would hurt. She didn’t know it would hurt this much.
She hated that it had to end like this. Like whatever existed between them was nothing. It only made her think that it was nothing to Ahsoka, reinforcing the fears that were already chipping away at her. She’d wished they could’ve at least shared an embrace. But instead, a lingering handshake from moments before now would be the last contact they’d share in Bo didn’t know how long; maybe ever.
She couldn’t take watching anymore. She closed her eyes and turned away, focusing instead on the people below her again, what she wished could be her final words burning a hole in her mind and her heart.
You always have a home here, Ahsoka.
“Auntie?” Her mind registered and recognised the voice a fraction of a second before her body recognised the hand on her arm. She started. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s just me.”
Bo relaxed, and covered Korkie’s hand with her own, exhaling.
“Sorry.” She swallowed, catching how her voice shook. “I was in my own world for a moment there.”
“I know.” She could feel her nephew’s eyes on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look at anything but the spot she’d fixated on. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Of course. I’m fine.”
“I think you and I both know that’s not true.” Bo closed her eyes and sighed. She heard Korkie take a step closer to her. “I’m sorry she had to go, Auntie.”
“She couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” Her voice cracked painfully. She took another breath.
“It wasn’t as simple as that. You know it wasn’t.”
Korkie and his stupid, rational words of reason. Bo suppressed another sigh. There was no use in trying to argue with him. “She cares for you. A lot. And I know you care for her too. That much is obvious. She left because she had to, not because she wanted to.”
“She still left.”
It felt pathetic, saying those words. Even more so with the fragility and smallness of her voice as she spoke them. It made her feel like a child. She despised that feeling.
“I know.” Korkie’s arm slid around her shoulders. “Why don’t we get you home? You should rest. I can make some tea.”
Bo shook her head, clearing her throat in a feeble and failed attempt to shift the lump forming within it.
“No. I have to talk to the people.”
Korkie chuckled sadly.
“You sound like Mum.”
Tears burned at Bo-Katan’s eyes at that. She inhaled shakily, and brought a hand to her face to catch a stray tear before it had the chance to fall. “But I understand,” Korkie continued, “so I’ll stay with you. We’ll address them together. But as soon as we have, I’m taking you home and you’re resting, alright? Does that sound fair?”
Bo nodded. Finally allowing herself to look at her nephew, she saw him looking at her with the very sympathy she’d dreaded to see in his expression. “You’re not doing this alone, Auntie. Not on my watch.”
Bo-Katan forced a smile she knew Korkie didn’t believe for a single second.
“Alright.” Her voice only briefly wavered, as she put every last bit of energy she had into steadying it. “Just let me do most of the talking.”
Korkie beamed.
“There’s the Auntie I know and love.” He took a step away from her, and bowed dramatically. “Come on. Lead the way.”
A little more of a genuine smile crossed Bo’s lips. She shook her head at her nephew’s antics, and started the walk down to greet her people, Korkie only moments behind her.
—
Bo-Katan couldn’t sleep.
She had addressed her people, spoken of the battle that had taken place, paid respects to those who had passed, discussed next steps. She had ordered that everyone take the rest of the day to rest; to mourn; to be with their families. Korkie had, again, insisted that she, too, rest, once she was done with her talk. He’d walked her home, and made her tea, and sent her to bed, reminding her that the day had been taxing both physically and emotionally, and if she wanted to lead their people through the next few days, she had to be well rested.
But she couldn’t sleep.
Her bed had never been overly large. It had always been a squeeze to fit both herself and Ahsoka in it. But now it felt so empty and so spacious. It felt cold. She kept reaching out into the void beside her, clutching at sheets. Every time her hands reached out to find the absence of the woman whose company she had become so used to, her soul ached more.
She thought that there might have been one final interaction with Ahsoka. If she were honest, the rest of the day had been a dissociative blob. She resented herself for not being present in those actual final moments, only the memory of Ahsoka walking away from her to attend a meeting burned into her mind. What did she say, what did she do? She wished she could remember, but she didn’t.
The bed still smelled like her.
She thought that maybe, that should have been a comfort to her. But it wasn’t. Instead, it mocked her. It made Ahsoka’s absence a million times more apparent. Bo longed for the feeling of the other woman beside her. For the sound of her voice. For the comfort and safety she so easily provided.
She gave up.
She peeled the covers from herself and stood. She was exhausted. But she knew sleep couldn’t come easily. All she wanted was to talk to Ahsoka. It was a feeling that wouldn’t go away.
She left her room, and ended up in the main hall. The HoloNet News was up on a screen, as it always was, so she could closely monitor news as it happened across the galaxy. It was the best way of assessing potential threats, and where to find potential allies.
It looked like there might be something major going on.
I’ll look at that in a minute, Bo thought to herself, as her eyes scanned the room for her personal handheld holoprojector. This was a long shot, but Bo thought it was worth the risk if she could just talk to Ahsoka. Maybe it would calm her enough to allow her to sleep.
She found it within only a few moments. She held it in her hand, staring at it for a while , before setting it to call Ahsoka.
The real-time projection of the Togruta appeared after only a few moments. Ahsoka beamed.
“Lady Kryze,” she greeted, that tease that made Bo’s heart flutter present within her voice, “I was just thinking about you.”
Bo hoped that the heat rushing to her cheeks didn’t result in a blush.
“You were?” The corners of her lips tugged into a smile despite her best efforts to hide it. Ahsoka nodded.
“Yeah. I was just thinking about checking in on you, actually. How are things over there?”
“They’re… alright.” Bo decided not to go into detail. She didn’t want to waste more precious moments of conversation with her friend - was friend the right word? Bo wasn’t sure, anymore - on conversations of Mandalore. “How about your end? How was the Council?”
“Oh, you know.” Ahsoka glazed over her answer too, evidently having the same thought as Bo. The other woman studied her for a moment, then tipped her head to one side. “You look tired.”
“Yeah.” Bo cleared her throat. “That’s kinda why I called. I was struggling to get to sleep, I think I might’ve had to hear your voice.”
“You know, I can understand that.” Bo loved the softness in Ahsoka’s voice whenever she talked like she was now. It always made her feel so safe, so listened to. “I was struggling to settle too. Maybe I need to hear your voice.”
The women held each other’s gaze for a long moment, and then a simple, easy laughter was shared between the two, over their shared feeling; their shared anxiety; their shared missing of one another.
In truth, of course, there was no laughter. No conversation. No Ahsoka to look at.
Bo-Katan stared at the holoprojector in her hands, the conversation that existed only as a figment of her imagination turning around and around in her head. She wondered how a conversation with Ahsoka would really go. Would she even pick up, if Bo were to actually call?
She wasn’t sure she was ready to find out.
She took a deep breath, keeping the holoprojector in her hands. She would call, she decided, once she’d calmed herself down a little bit. She turned her attention from the handheld device to the screen in front of her.
Her blood turned to ice.
The holoprojector in her hands clattered to the floor as she dropped it.
She was frozen, in space and in time, her breath caught in her chest, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her.
No. Oh, Stars, No.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t tear her eyes away from the words and the images plastered across her screen. Her eyes started to burn.
No. This isn’t happening.
“Auntie?”
Neither body nor mind registered or recognised the voice, or the hand on her arm. As far as Bo-Katan knew, she was alone; her nephew may as well have been absent. “Auntie, are you okay?”
Bo didn’t answer. She still couldn’t tear her eyes away from the horror in front of her. “Oh— oh. I see. Fuck. Um. Auntie?”
Bo’s mind recognised the voice beside her. Her body became too aware of its own existence. She felt sick, and as though she could pass out at any moment. She wished she would. It would hurt less.
Her knees buckled, and she subsequently lost the strength to stand. She felt Korkie grab a tighter hold of her, and throw her arm over his shoulders, and hold her up. “Easy. Come on. Sit down. I’ve got you.”
Next thing she knew, she was sitting down. Korkie’s hand was on her shoulder. The screen that was in front of her was gone. She blinked.
“She’s gone.” She heard her voice, broken and shaking, before she even knew she’d spoken. “They… they’re all gone.”
They’re gone. All of them. The Clones wiped them out.
“Alright, Auntie.” There was a shake to Korkie’s own voice. Of course there was. He had friends within the Jedi too. Ahsoka was one of them. His father, the man he so desperately wanted to know more, he was a Jedi, too. All of the Jedi were gone. They were all gone. “Just keep taking deep breaths, okay? I’ll make you some tea.”
“No.” Bo grabbed hold of her nephew’s arm. She felt like she was on autopilot. “Stay here please.”
She felt Korkie sit down beside her. An arm around her, hand on her back. She still stared into the space in front of her.
“Okay, Auntie. I’m here. Just take a deep breath.”
Easier said than done.
“She’s gone.” Bo repeated. She felt something wet and hot slide down her cheek. Tears. Fuck. “I— I don’t like this. I don’t feel good.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Bo.”
“I— I don’t— I don’t get it.” She frowned. “She was— she was only just here . And she was fine. How— I feel sick.”
The ache in her soul was back. It was worsening. “Korkie, this really hurts.”
“I know.”
“Why does it hurt?” You know why it hurts. “I… I barely knew her.”
Ahsoka Tano was new to her. She may have known of her for a long while, but they’d only come to know the real, true selves of each other in the last few weeks. And Bo couldn’t remember the last time she’d bonded with someone so quickly. Ahsoka had become so important, so fast. Bo had thought that maybe, if they got more time, she could grow to truly love the other woman.
That was what hurt. The lost possibilities. Bo knew that.
“I think you and I both know that’s not true.” Korkie’s response was so softly sympathetic that it broke the dam completely. Bo sobbed, and then couldn’t stop. “Oh, Auntie…”
Korkie pulled Bo towards him. She didn’t fight against it. The ache in her soul worsened again. “It’s alright, Auntie. Let it out. I’m here.” He ran his hand up and down her back. It reminded her of the comforts Ahsoka used to provide her. She sobbed more. “I’m here. You’re not going through this alone, Auntie. Not on my watch.”
Bo curled up into herself, and into Korkie’s comfort. The sobs showed no sign of letting up any time soon, and she was past the point of feeling embarrassed at her display of emotion. She hurt. She’d lost someone close, and it hurt, and she didn’t care if they’d only known each other for weeks - it fucking hurt, and she didn’t care who knew it.
She remembered when Ahsoka Tano was nothing but a thorn in her side. She couldn’t believe she ever looked at her with anything other than fondness. But now she wouldn’t look at her again. Not ever.
It’s horrifying, Bo-Katan thought to herself, how quickly things in your life can turn around.