"Ow!" Ahsoka hissed under her breath, muttering a few choice words that Anakin had told her not to say, despite him using them constantly.

She let the broken glass land back on the tray it had come from, before grabbing her hand to staunch the thick stream of red dripping down her palm.

What in the world?

She glared at the broken cup before examining the damage done to her hand.

It really wasn't that bad — she had definitely had worse, she knew, so, rolling her eyes, she stuck her bleeding hand under the hot stream of water coming from the sanitizer.

Nice going, Ahsoka. Real attentive.

She shook her head slightly in exasperation at her own distracted mistake. Her thoughts had been so consumed with the Twi'leks warning of sorts, that she hadn't been paying enough attention to her exterior surroundings.

Honestly, Ahsoka really didn't know what to think about what the Twi'lek had told her. Immediately after the words had left her mouth, Darra had seemed almost as taken aback as Ahsoka, and fled quickly, leaving Ahsoka blinking in surprise for a few moments.

A lot of what the Twi'lek had said confirmed what Ahsoka had been feeling. Stay under the radar. Yep, that was definitely on Ahsokas list of objectives.

She wondered if the reason she was dwelling to much on Darras words was because she missed having the guidance that came with experience and age.

At the Temple, there had always been someone older, wiser, or more experienced whose reassuring presence alleviated the stress and anxiety that came with being alone and unsure, even if Ahsoka did not call on them directly for help.

Now, though, Ahsoka was alone.

And because of that, Darra was really the only basis of knowledge she had currently, even if the Twi'lek was a bit closed off and harsh. She figured it was almost like a substitute, of sorts, that at least gave her some idea of what was happening, no matter how vague or indifferent said substitute was.

Almost as a humorless joke, Ahsoka wondered if there had been some pamphlet or book that she had missed. How an Ex-Jedi Survives in the Lower Levels: a Guide. Maybe she should have double checked the archives before turning her back on the one stable thing in her life, amongst all the warfare and chaos.

Almost out of bitter irony she imagined the scene. Sorry, I'm not coming back, but before I go, could I just borrow that one book?

The pathetic attempt at a joke did nothing to lessen the hard lump in her throat that appeared whenever she thought of the past few days, the cold block of ice chilling her chest, suffocating her lungs, or the tight knot in her stomach that had appeared at the start of the ordeal, and had yet to be vanquished.

Of course, Ahsoka wasn't that naive. She just really wished she could have some guidance.

She missed the security of always having someone backing her up, or knowing someone who was more sure than she was about something.

She missed being able to ask Anakin, or Obi-Wan, or Rex, or even Yoda her questions; missed turning to them when she was unsure.

Now, she had no second opinion or reassurance that she was doing the correct thing — just her intuition — and maybe an indifferent Twi'lek, she reminded herself, though she wasn't sure how Darra would take to being asked any questions that she might deem irrelevant.

Ahsokas eyes glazed over as she was lost in thought again. The exhaustion of just everything was starting to impede on her focus. She would need to rest soon, she knew, but she convinced herself that she had enough energy, or willpower, to keep going until she had a firmer grasp on the situation.

She stared absentmindedly at the drops of blood dripping off the broken piece of glass. It was the same color as the pretty Twi'lek who had given her the instructions to clean the used dishes.

Upon reentering the kitchen, the red Twi'lek had passively pointed to the durasteel basin, had given the simple instruction of "wash the dishes," and then disappeared out the kitchen door once again.

Ahsoka watched as the clear water turned a light pink, and the pooling blood on her palm disappeared down the drain.

It was interesting, she thought, how something so painful could disappear so quickly — only to leave an ache behind. How something so physically prominent — so there — could just evaporate in a second.

Sounds familiar, she thought bitterly, refusing to let her mind drift back to whatever her life had been like mere days ago.

It almost made her do a double take. Just last week she had been assigned a new mission with Anakin, oblivious to anything and everything that would lead up to her scrubbing dishes at 0300 hours in the morning.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had been snippily exchanging banter with her Master while being inches from death-by-blaster-fire on a battlefield.

Now, instead of worrying about being impaled by General Grievous' lightsabers, or being electrocuted by Cad Bane, she had to worry about broken dishes cutting her hand. It didn't feel real to her, though part of that may have just been her exhaustion.

Remembering the dangers of her past experiences, she felt a strange sense of comfort in the familiarity they brought. Even though she was technically in a more immediately safer environment, she felt more exposed and lost than ever — more vulnerable and helpless and afraid than she ever had on a battlefield, one mistake away from death.

It baffled her how much her perception of the world had changed, especially since the start of the Clone War. Why was she panicking now, amongst the simple normalities of civilian life?

Well, Ahsoka knew the answer. It was because she had time to panic. Time to process the betrayal and the consequences. In the middle of a battle, surrounded by split-second choices that decide life or death, there is not time for grief. Or panic. Or anything. But now that her mind subconsciously knew that she could afford the slight delay in full cognitive function, it seemed to be the only thing Ahsoka could dwell on.

You'd think it'd be a good thing, she thought. Being at your best when the situation is at its worst.

I guess not in this situation.

Maybe it was because everything was happening too slowly — like a slow-acting poison; one that you don't notice until it's too late. The lack of a split second decision, or the absence of a tangible, short-term goal probably didn't help, either.

She sighed, her head almost dropping in exhaustion. Although her limbs were sore, her posture never faltered — it was an old habit from not only growing up in the Jedi Temple, but also from spending so much time working with military officials.

The bottom of her feet seemed to burn, as if pins and needles were numbing her nerves. Her muscles ached, though not from overwhelming exertion — just from lack of rest. She had to actively focus to keep her vision from going bleary, and every few minutes she found herself suppressing a yawn.

Just a while longer, Ahsoka. Come on.

But a little longer until what? She didn't have a plan beyond her shift, and it finally dawned on her that she didn't have a place to sleep.

Her mind raced as she attempted to come up with a solution, though she felt the exhaustion finally taking a toll on her executive functioning skills.

I dont know. I'll figure it out.

It was the best she could come up with at the moment.

Maybe I'll just crash in an alleyway.

Yes, it looked like that was her solution. It would have to be.

She sighed, glancing up tiredly at the chrono above her. 0293 hours. She recalled the Twi'lek telling her that their shift would end at 0300 standard time. Almost there. She thought half-heartedly, distractedly moving her eyes back to the slowly disappearing pool of crimson.

She shook her head again at her stupidity in her injury. She had been so lost in thought that she had failed to notice the broken glass, and, in her lack of conscience, she had grabbed it, slicing her palm open in the process.

Now, as she watched the bright red flow evaporate to be replaced with a transparent pink as the steaming water hit her hand, the heat turning it red, she recalled something a good friend had once told her.

Most of the time, injuries look a lot worse than they actually are, little 'un.

Despite the sadness seeming to tear a hole through her chest, Ahsoka had to smile at the bittersweet memory, the reassuring voice of Rex filling her conscience.

Some of the tension seemed to leave her shoulders, even as her stomach dropped in the tell-tale symptom of a bittersweet longing, missing, or wanting something, and the side effect of sadness that coincides with it.

She truly did miss Rex and the clones, but the pleasant, albeit painfully influenced smile soon melted away as two realizations hit her at once.

I'm never seeing them again.

Of course "them" was the clones. The 501st and company. The countless Kamino-born troopers who meant more to her than they would ever realize.

It was a harsh statement, not only because of its implications, but also because of the reserves she still had about realizing a statement so absolute.

The Jedi had warned against using such absolute, black and white, language, as it negated the opportunity for change. It also made observing something from an unbiased point of view less plausible.

But Ahsoka wasn't a Jedi anymore, and she wasn't held the the same expectations or code that she used to be. And as unfortunate as it was, she truly believed the statement to be almost fully true. That wasn't to say she didnt hope that she was wrong... but she had little influence to incite hope at the moment.

I didn't even say goodbye.

Ahsoka felt her eyes grow hot, stinging with salt — almost as hot as the scalding water that had started to burn her hand, as she hadn't been paying attention to it.

Hissing through her teeth again, she quickly yanked her hand back, her orange skin now an irritated red.

Although it hurt, the physical shock helped clear her mind for a moment, allowing her emotions to come back into to check.

"Nice one." She muttered under her breath, shaking her hand as if that would alleviate the pain. "Really nicely done." She spoke through gritted teeth.

She examined the cut on her palm, and found that, of course, Rex was right.

The cut was not so bad. It was a little deep, but not horribly. The blood was still seeping out, but it had slowed dramatically.

Upon further examination, Ahsoka did not see any glass residue in her skin, and, seeing that as a plus, she moved to cover it and staunch the rest of the beads of red from staining anything.

Quickly wrapping it in a towel to act as a bandage (just as Kix had shown her), she got back to work, disposing of the broken glass, and continuing with her previous task, lost in her thoughts once again.

....

Darra watched as the Togruta, Ana, wrapped her bloody hand in a spare towel. The precision and the almost expert-like nonchalance in her demeanor made Darra wonder if she had done it before.

Shoving aside the thought that would most likely precede sympathy (which Darra did not want to feel), she placed another tray of dishes next to the durasteel basin Ana was working at.

The girl didn't even glance up at the rattling and clinking of the plates and cups being set down beside her. Either she was too focused, too tired, or maybe she just didn't care.

"When you're done with these I'll show you how to clock out." Darra told her, not waiting to get her attention.

Ana's eyes flickered to the new tray as she nodded, finishing up the last of the previous round of dishes.

She was efficient, Darra noted. She was a fast worker, and she didn't seem to complain much — from what Darra could tell, anyway. She hoped it stayed that way.

Darra, having nothing else to do (because she definitely wasn't going back into the outer room with only five minutes left in her shift), leaned up next to the girl, her back against the hard counter and her arms crossed as she studied the orange Togruta out of the corner of her eye.

"So, where do you come from, kid?" She found herself asking, more out of boredom than actual curiosity.

Ana didn't respond for a three count, frowning, before opening her mouth, though nothing came out.

"... It's... complicated..." she finally managed, her brow furrowed as she continued to scrub at the dirty plate in her hand.

Darra shrugged. She hadn't really been expecting a detailed response — most beings in the lower levels took it personally when someone got curious. Darra really couldn't blame her for her for her obscure answer.

Darra studied her again. She was pretty, Darra noticed, though it didn't look like she cared much about it, nor knew it either, and her features weren't even the first thing that drew the attention to her — it was her demeanor.

It was a confident, though calming sort of presence that was rare in the underworld — although she didn't seem terribly confident at the moment, Darra imagined she would if in a different environment.

She really did look exhausted, though she hid it well. Her clear blue eyes seemed dull in the harsh lighting, and the bags under them made her skin a deeper shade of tan.

Darra sighed and moved her eyes away — she was probably making the girl uncomfortable.

Besides, just looking at the Togrutas face made Darra even more tired than she already was (if that was even possible).

The Twi'lek herself was itching to get home to see her kids, as well as sleep. She couldn't wait to slip her shoes off and just collapse on her mattress after checking on her (hopefully) sleeping children.

She watched the chrono as the seconds ticked by, feeling antsy as she tapped her foot rapidly, waiting for the hour to end.

Her thoughts still in her family, she attempted to fill the silence between the two lekku-adorned coworkers.

"Got any family?"

She probably shouldn't have been prying so much, but this girl didn't seem the type to end a disagreement with her fists if things got too personal, so Darra let her boredom-induced curiosity get the best of her.

Besides, Darra thought, the girl probably couldn't do any real damage to her — she was a good head or so shorter than Darra, and slimmer as well; though something told Darra not to underestimate her.

"... No." Another hesitation and another frown. Darra wondered if there was anything this girl could be transparent about — anything that wasn't too complicated or painful for her to say.

"Well, you're just bursting with information, now aren't you." Darra grumbled, rolling her eyes. She really couldn't care less, though — it was just something to say.

The Togruta raised an eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth twitched, as though she were suppressing a smile... or an equally as sassy response — though she held her tongue, her eyes seemingly twinkling in a slight amusement despite how tired they looked.

Darra sighed again as her eyes drifted back up to the chrono. 0300 standard time. Finally.

The abrupt disturbance of a constant noise made Darra turn her head, realizing that the Togruta had turned off the stream of water.

Ana turned to Darra as the durasteel basin began to drain. "So... clocking out?"

She even sounded tired, Darra noticed, but also like she was trying to hide it. The slight rasp of her throat, or the softness of her speech, covered by her authoritative tone and calming demeanor gave the well-covered illusion of alertness.

"Right." Darra spoke, straightening up from the counter as she cleared her throat. "This way."

They made their way to the other end of the kitchen, brushing by the two male employees, feeling eyes on their backs as they passed — most likely because they hadn't noticed the knew member of the staff until then.

Darra slowed to a stop next to the back door where a small table was set up, providing the necessary technology to track their shifts. It was old (of course), but it did it's job.

"Just do what I do, okay? I'm not explaining it twice." Darra didn't turn to see if the Togruta had even heard her. Instead, she clocked out and stepped away, allowing the Togruta the space to do the same.

The girl studied the machine for a moment, as though she had never seen one before, but after only a moments hesitation, she seemed to figure it out.

Unknown to the Togruta, Darra had clocked her in earlier so her time that day would count toward her pay. She told herself that it was just to save the hassle of explaining it.

Darra glanced down at the chrono on her wrist before speaking, her eyes still downward. "Now just grab your things and you're done for the day. You can see the schedule for tomorrow in the back room — you need to sign up for shifts."

With that, she dropped her wrist to her side again, briskly making her way through the kitchen to the entry doors, heading for the back rooms once again.

She didn't bother to check if Ana was behind her, but upon entering the relative muffled-silence of the small hallway, she heard light footsteps behind her.

Her mind wandering as she was itching to leave, Darra shoved open the hinged-door with her foot.

Passively, she pointed toward a datapad hanging on the wall. "Sign up for shifts there. I suggest you take the 1200 to 1800 one tomorrow."

Of course, that was Darras shift as well, though she didn't mention it to the girl. It really didnt matter, in her opinion.

Ana nodded, her exhaustion starting to. show a bit, even in the dim lighting of the back room, as her awake-and-alert facade began to deteriorate.

"Thank you."

"Sure." Darra stated indifferently,  grabbing her bag and coat from a nearby shelf. She shrugged on her things as she headed toward the door, but something made her hesitate when she got there.

She turned, facing the girl again, studying her calculating, albeit tired, gaze, and her pondering look as she stepped away from the datapad she had just been using.

She looked a lot younger than sixteen in the dim lighting, and the too-large blouse did nothing to help that, as it slightly dwarfed her already smaller frame.

Darra could almost see the gears turning in the girls head as she crossed her arms, gazing unseeingly at the wall-mounted datapad.

She seemingly snapped out of her daze, as she shook her head slightly, arms still crossed, though seeming more like a tight hug than a nonchalant action now.

And then it dawned on Darra. This girl probably didn't have any place to go.

She sighed. "Take the storage room." She said, studying the girl again with an indifferent stare.

"Hmm?" The girl hummed, turning her questioning gaze toward Darra as she snapped out of whatever calculated daze she had been in.

"I said take the storage room. The one across the hall. Just make sure to lock the door," Darra emphasized. "You never know what could happen," she warned.

It finally seemed to click in the Togrutas mind. Her eyes brightened, and she nodded her head to Darra, a slight change in her demeanor suggesting her gratefulness.

Before she could verbally express it, though, Darra had already turned and seemingly fled the room, eager to finally get home to her family.

....

Ahsoka watched the bobbing lekku if the red Twi'lek disappear before grabbing her cloak and clothes, and making her way cautiously across the hallway.

The door creaked open, albeit a bit muffled from the noise of the adjacent tavern.

It was a small room, though it seemed to have more space than the room across because it was much more empty. There were only a few boxes shoved against the walls, and the the shelves were dusty and lacking any materials.

Although the room was a bit musty, Ahsoka was too tired to care. The door shut behind her as she stepped into the dark room, and Ahsoka wasted no time in finding a place in the corner to curl up under her cloak, using the rest of her clothes that she had changed out of earlier as a pillow, and with her back to the door.

The floor was cold and hard, but Ahsoka couldn't find it in herself to care — besides, she had slept on worse; she would live.

Something nagged at her in the back of her mind as she began to slip away, but she wasn't able to resist the pull of exhaustion and the lure of a quiet conscience any longer, and uneasily drifted off to sleep.

It wasn't until later that night that she realized what the nagging feeling was — but by then it was too late.

She had forgotten to lock the door.

::::

Alright... just a little look into Ahsokas phsych at the moment, and a little bit more of Darra... sorry if it's kinda boring. i promise i actually have an idea of what's going to happen, even if it's a little slow to start off... this is still just the beginning of the book!

(honestly though, this whole chapter could hypothetically be skipped over because it just reinforces ahsokas feelings of betrayal, etc. so let me know if the three days i spent on it were even worth it 😂)

Also, I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever!! Life's been pretty busy. School is definitely a big factor of that... it's 3am and i'm literally supposed to be doing my ap history homework right now but i'm doing this instead, so oh well 😅

On another note, I went to take my permit test the other day!! I had to wait outside the building for like an hour before i could even go in because of covid, but I still passed!! (somehow...) now only like a year until i can legally drive by myself... we're getting there...

Anyway, sorry it's kinda bad, i'm just kinda tired and i haven't updated in a while so i just wrote to get it done. Also, this took me so long that i already wrote a decent amount of chapter ten (like around 2,000 words), so that should be coming shortly!

thanks for reading! Bye!

*unedited

10/(20/21/22)/20 — when it takes me three days to finish it and it's not even good 😅

Word count: 3872