⚠️ TW: again, not terrible but just in case — sensitive topics

::::

Darra wasn't stupid.

Far from it, really.

In fact, she prided herself on being decently intelligent (at least, compared to the majority of the slums who frequented the streets and taverns of the level — although, that wasn't exactly saying much).

She wasn't blind to the looks of the group of males aimed at the back of the Togruta — nor the corresponding bruises littering both the girl and the males bodies.

And, unfortunately, she also wasn't blind to the swollen red marks along the girls collarbone and neck, peeking through her shirt. Or the way she had refused to meet the eyes of the glaring men at the first sign of their malevolence (though Darra was proud to say that the girl had gotten over that part fairly quickly).

But the thing that really caught Darras attention was the raw fear that presented itself to the room as the piercing-adorned bartender entered the kitchens and spotted the small Togruta.

She stiffened, as if sensing his presence by the door even though her back was to him — though she seemed to forcibly relax her muscles as though nothing had even happened.

She turned, staring calculatingly at the man, as if judging more than his appearance.

His face paled and he turned, briskly forcing his way back through the double doors he had just come through.

The Togruta stared after him, the white face markings above her eyes furrowed, and her mouth slightly twisted in thought.

Then she turned back to her work like a fully grown man didn't just run away from her in fear.

Again, Darra wasn't stupid — but she was utterly confused on what was going on with this mysterious girl.

...

Ahsokas heart was pounding.

She wasn't sure whether or not she felt satisfaction from the bartenders fear or not — she really just felt numb.

It was nice, she admitted, that he most likely wouldn't be bothering her anymore.

But still — she really didn't know what to feel.

It was like her emotions were at war with each other — should she feel angry? Scared? What about shame? She didn't know, but she did know that she probably shouldn't feel proud or happy that she had caused his fear — otherwise, how was she any better than him?

The galaxy was confusing place, and Ahsoka was never one for philosophy — as proven by her abysmal Theory grade from her classes at the Temple (She had not wanted to face Anakin after that, though he hadn't even seemed too upset with her when he found out — though she guessed he just didn't want to be a hypocrite).

Even if the universe was too complex for her to handle at the moment, washing dishes was not. She got back to work, scrubbing the plates and ignoring the excruciating aches and the sharp burns of pain seeming to bring everything to a low buzz around her.

She heard footsteps behind her, but she didn't turn, too zoned out from her smarting body to really comprehend anything other than immediate problems.

She wished she had turned.

She heard shallow breathing line up next to her head, and felt sickeningly warm breath against the side of her face.

Warm breath wet the back of her montrals...

A cold hand wove it's way under her arm, gripping her hipbone.

And she realized that the cold thing on her waist was a hand...

She flinched. Her fingers went numb.

A glass slipped from her hands, shattering against the hard durasteel of the basin, but Ahsoka couldn't hear it over the roaring in her montrals.

Like an inundating wave going over her head, pulling her father and farther down into the darkness of disorientation, flooding her lungs with salty water with each strangled breath that was attempted.

She was paralyzed.

No.

No, no, no.

....

Darra snapped back to attention at the sound of glass shattering.

She had been picking up another order of food by the stove, but it was soon forgotten as she looked across the kitchens at the unfortunate scene unfolding by the sanitizer.

Darra set down the plate and felt her heart skip a beat.

"Hey!" She shouted out, but it was futile — it didn't deter the Devaronian from grabbing the Togrutas shoulders and turning the poor girl around to face him.

She seemed to be frozen, her eyes glazed over and her breathing shallow.

Darra yelled again. "Hey, slimeball, get away from the kid!"

He didn't seem to hear it— or more likely didn't want to.

He pressed the unmoving Togruta against the basin, using one hand to grab the side of her pale face.

Still, she seemed not to react.

"Hey!" She yelled more desperately, grabbing a fry pan and rushing across the kitchen toward the two.

She had fully intended on using it, but it seemed she didn't really need to.

As the Devaronian smashed his lips onto her, the girl seemed to snap back to reality.

She shoved him, with way more power than Darra (and probably the Devaronian) thought capable of her, and sent a strong kick into his stomach, sending him careening backwards into a stack of shelves, the whole thing crashing down onto him as he yelled in surprise.

Darra lowered her pan in a satisfied surprise. She looked around to make sure the girl was alright, but she had vanished.

Darra spun, looking for where she might have gone, and caught a flash of blue and orange slip through the double doors across the room.

She sighed, following her for better or worse.

...

Ahsokas head spun.

The only coherent thing in her mind was the painful echo of her ragged breath.

She felt like she was about to throw up.

The world was spinning, and the edges of her vision were tainted in the telltale signs of panic-induced adrenaline: it felt like the world was moving too fast, but she was moving too slow — like the feeling of a hovertrain rushing by in the opposite direction while you're only a foot away from the tracks.

In other words, cripplingly disorienting.

She tried to think.

She couldn't.

The only thing she was aware of was the burning imprint of the cold hands and rough lips, and the stinging echo of ragged wheezing creating a wall between Ahsoka and her senses.

She hadn't even realized she had made it to the bathroom until she felt the jolt in her knees from hitting the hard tile and the clench of her twisted stomach followed by the burn of bile in the back of her throat as she dry-heaved over the ceramic bowl.

She felt trapped — and Ahsoka hated feeling trapped. The whole situation was eerily reminiscent of her unfortunate time on Zygerria as an undercover slave — and that was something she did not want to remember.

Although there was no physical restraint around her this time, she almost felt as though she would have preferred one — a physical restraint could be seen. It could be destroyed and she could have corporal control over it.

Whatever this was, whatever she was feeling now, was not as simplistic as crushing an electric collar with the Force, or breaking a lock on a cage door. No — this was much worse.

After all, how could she get rid of something she couldn't even see?

She wanted to cry. No, sob was more like it, but she knew if she succumbed to the salty sting building in her eyes, the pressuring burn in the back of her throat, she might never stop.

Her lungs seemed to forget how to function (that was happening a lot lately, she noticed), but she took it as a victory that her dry heaving had died down to mere hiccups.

She leaned back against the same wall she had the night before, her eyes wet, but she refused to let her tears fall.

She squeezed her eyes shut once more and brought her forehead to rest on her knees as she hugged them to her chest, willing her breathing to cooperate with her.

It didn't.

What had Anakin said? She racked her still racing mind.

Cmon, Snips. Count to ten. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You got it. Breathe with me... I got you.

She could almost feel his presence, as if her were crouched in front of her, ready to comfort her but also prepare her for the worst.

She could almost imagine his hand reaching out to rest on her foot. It felt like a slight shift in the air above her shoe — a warm presence...

She was snapped out of her wishful reminiscence by a light pressure on her boot making her jump as her head shot up and her heart leapt, the erratic rhythm pounding through her montrals.

Not again.

...

Darras heart was racing, her stomach sinking.

She had a pretty good guess at where the girl had run off to.

Darra wasn't a very mushy, gushy, sentimental, or sympathetic person in general — but something about the young Togruta had made her abandon her mantra of mind your own business, and they'll mind theirs.

Maybe it was because of the similarity to her own daughter that made her follow the girl out of the kitchen. Maybe it was the quiet pull of memory that ignited like a match dropped on a trail of oil, reminding Darra of herself as a younger woman, that made her walk cautiously down the back hallway to the refresher.

No matter the reason, Darra found herself in the doorway of the small room, observing the disparaging scene from the open door which the girl hadn't bothered to close, it seemed, in her panic.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Ana?"

No response, though Darra hadn't really expected one.

She kept her forehead pressed to her knees as she hugged her legs to her chest.

Darra stepped carefully into the room, almost as if she was stepping across broken glass littering the floor.

As if the cool, hard tiles had turned to eggshells instead.

She crouched cautiously in front of the slightly shaking Togruta, reaching out a tentative hand, but hesitating centimeters above the girls mud-splattered boot.

On an impulse, and before she could back out of it, she pressed her hand down lightly, trying to garner a reaction from the girl to snap her out of whatever had possessed her.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide in disoriented panic. She startled away from the touch, not comprehending who it was in front of her quite yet — as though she were waking up from a nightmare in the pitch black darkness of a room.

"Hey, hey!" Darra attempted to break her from the hold of her crippling panic. "It's me!"

The girl stopped struggling away, her eyes clearing a bit.

Darra was surprised to find no tears — besides her wet eyes, her face was tear-streak free.

"You're okay." She obviously wasn't, but it was the only thing Darra could think to say — she was never any good with dealing with emotions — especially if they weren't even hers. "Hey, breathe, okay?"

Ana searched her face, as if wondering why Darra was helping her — or because she was so disoriented she didn't recognize her. Maybe a mix of both.

None the less, she took a slow, shaky breath. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than a wheeze.

Her eyes still looked a little lost, so Darra gently took her hand as not to startle her, and carefully unclenched it, placing the girls palm over her heart, which was still pounding in her chest.

"... Just... try and focus on my heart, yeah?" It came out more awkward than she intended, but Darra doubted social prowess mattered at the moment.

"It's fast."

Her words almost startled Darra, as she hadn't expected the Togruta to speak.

"Yeah." Darra would've cursed her awkwardness if it weren't for the situation.

The girl hiccuped in response, still staring into Darras eyes, her piercing gaze calculated, but foggy — like she was figuring out a riddle, but she was trying to say the answer in a foreign language.

"Are you better now?" She obviously wasn't, but Darra really had no clue what to say.

Though she didn't have to fret very much about her lack of social and emotional skills, as the girl just about defied all of them in the next second.

It was quiet at first — barely noticeable. Darra had thought it was another hiccup. But not a second later, the girls body was shaking. She drew her hand away from Darras chest and covered her face with them has her shoulders shook.

Oh, no. Was she crying?

"Hey! No, you'll be fine! Don't —," She froze, halfway through her sentence as the girls hands dropped away and she leaned her head back against the wall, her body racked...

... with laughter? Had she gone mad?

Darra fell back on her hands, startled. "What?" She hadn't even realized she'd spoken.

It took a minute for the girl to compose herself, her shaky breathes echoing around the room as her shoulders shook up and down in suppressed laughter.

"I-I'm sorry," she said, putting a hand to her head as she hiccuped again, her laughter dying down.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall behind her, a wry smile full of irony — almost spiteful — was aimed at the wall behind Darra.

"It's just... last week," she blew out another strangled laugh, "I had no idea how fast my life would go to bantha crap," she gave another suppressed snort, "in only a few days."

She brought her hand to her mouth to muffle another round of laughter, tears wetting her face — though they weren't from sadness — more from her ironic, almost humorless, laughter.

Darra didn't know what to do. A minute ago, she was ready to wrap the girl in a hug, offer a shoulder to cry on — now, however, she was completely clueless.

"I'm probably scaring you. I promise I'm not usually this crazy... it's just been a... different few days, is all."

Darra nodded slowly, still leaning back on her hands. "It's okay... but why are you laughing?"

She shrugged, rubbing her eyes with her hands. "It's better than crying, isn't it?"

"Fair enough," Darra muttered, still slightly taken aback.

They sat there in silence for a few moments, the girls once bubbly, ironic laughter gone in favor of glazed over eyes, small sniffs, and occasional hiccups.

Darra studied her. She looked terrible — her face was discolored with bruises, and her eyes were slightly red-rimmed. Her lips were swollen from the Devaronians actions, and still her neck and collarbone were not getting any less red.

"You can stand?" Darra questioned hesitantly — she didn't really have a plan of what to do with her yet.

She nodded, her piercing blue gaze still clouded, but meeting Darras eyes none the less.

Darra stood, knees cracking from the sudden movement, before helping the still slightly trembling girl to her feet, though she still seemed more graceful in her movements than Darra would ever be.

Darras mind was racing. She had too many questions to count, but she decided to let it be for the moment.

First things first — what was she supposed to do with the kid?

The girl seemed to answer the question for her, though, as she turned on the sanitizer and let the steaming water flow across her hands as she splashed it on her face.

"Thank you, by the way."

Darra started slightly again, not really expecting the girl to talk. She was surprised at how much better and more in control she sounded.

The only thing she could do was nod — she was never any good with gratitude or feelings. She watched from behind as the girl shut off the dripping facet.

Ana rolled her shoulders back, correcting her posture, though Darra didn't miss the slight wince as she did so — she wondered how many other injuries the girl had, but then again, it wasn't Darras business.

They stood in silence for a few moments, the only sound was the dripping water plunking periodically into the stone basin the girl was leaning against, and then, "What's his name?"

"Huh?" Darra furrowed her eyebrows, glancing inquiringly at the girl through the mirror.

"His name. You know, the guy that ... the Devaronian."

Darra raised her eyebrows in surprise. Why does she want to know his name? Why would anyone want to know the name of someone like that?

"I don't know. He doesn't talk much."

"He talked to me." She told Darra, but almost as an afterthought — like she wasn't even aware she was saying it.

Darra shivered. She didn't want to know what he had said.

The girl seemed to snap back to reality. "Sorry for holding you up... we should probably get back to work soon."

She wants to go back in there? After all of that?

Darra furrowed her brows. "Are you sure you want to go back in there?"

Ana turned away from the mirror to look at her directly, now, and her startling eyes seemed brighter than they had in her dingy reflection.

"Well, do I really have a choice?"

She had a fair point, but still, Darra hesitated. "Alright... If you're sure."

She shrugged, giving her head a slow shake as she spoke more to the floor than to Darra. "I'm not sure of anything anymore."

With that, she met Darras eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards in a sad smile, before walking purposefully out the door, her chin up and shoulders back.

Darra stared after her in almost disbelief.

What in Coruscants four moons?

...

"You're either really brave, or really stupid."

Ahsoka heard the words of the Twi'lek behind her, following her back into the kitchens.

"I get that a lot," she responded, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly at the banter — it made her feel almost normal. How often had she faced an unbearable situation, only to resort to quick quips and banter to release the tension in the air? Too many times, she thought — but no matter, it was something familiar, and she appreciated it.

"Yeah, I bet you do," the Twi'lek woman muttered under her breath. Ahsoka could almost imagine the eye roll that followed.

She glanced at the chrono on the wall as she pushed open the double doors, a warm wind filled with a mix of scents brushed her face as the two females entered, and the time revealing only fifteen minutes left in their shift.

It was an interesting sight, to say the least. Although Ahsoka still felt a little tense walking back into the room, the corners of her lips quirked up in a semi-smirk for half a second upon seeing the Devaronian slumped against a wall with an ice pack to his head, the shelves in pieces around him.

Learned your lesson yet, Sleemo?

Her shoulders stiffened slightly at his glare, but she didn't waste too much time on him.

She felt a warm hand rest it's grip softly on her shoulder, as Darra gave a gentle squeeze.

She didn't really need the gesture, but she was thankful for it anyway.

"I'll help you with the dishes," she offered. Ahsoka realized it was her own way of offering her support. She gave a slight nod as Darras hand dropped away and they stopped at the sanitizer, Ahsoka turning on the scalding water, ignoring the dazed Devaronian not ten feet away.

She breathed out a steady breath.

Just keep your chin up, Snips.

Yes, Master.

...

"Here we are."

The door slid open with a slight squeak from the pressure of the durasteel on the tracks.

Ahsoka followed Darra into the small apartment, taking it in like she had done countless times before on other missions.

Window, twelve o'clock. Two exits from main room, six and three. Vents —

She blinked, stopping herself.

You're not on a mission. You're not a Jedi. You're not in danger. Knock it off.

She blinked again as her stomach twisted, realizing that Darra was saying something.

"... take the couch for the night."

"Thank you," she said hesitantly, having completely missed the first half of Darras statement. "I really appreciate your help, Darra."

Darra shrugged before giving her a short nod, turning to open the only other door Ahsoka had seen in the apartment.

"Stay here."

Upon the ending of their shift, Darra had pulled Ahsoka aside and offered her hospitality. Ahsoka had been hesitant at first, not wanting to intrude or be a burden, but the Twi'lek had almost ordered her to accept, with the feeble excuse of "I don't want you breaking anymore shelves — don't think I didn't see the storage room, kid."

She was relieved not to have to spend another night in the bucket of bantha dung that was the tavern, but she still didn't want to come across as helpless to Darra — though then again, she wasn't complaining.

Now that she was here, though, she felt out of place — awkward. Ahsoka had never lived in a house before. She doubted the Temple counted as a house — it was more of an impersonal shelter, even if is was — had been — her home. Really, her home has been more with the people she knew than the actual structure itself. She'd had her quarters, which were identical to the thousands of others who lived there. Sure, she had stayed with senator Amidala on multiple occasions, or been on missions that brought her to homes, but for some reason this time felt different. Maybe it was because she didn't have a constant in her life anymore, no where to go back to at the end of the day. Maybe it was because she didn't have a choice — it just made her feel helpless that it was her only viable option. Though then again, it was better than the alternative.

She felt uncomfortable, getting an inside look at a strangers life — picture frames and little piles of trinkets sang out a personal song, humming with a connection to the living Force.

"Ana."

Ahsoka snapped back to attention at her pseudonym. It felt strange to hear herself being addressed by it, but she decided it was better than Darra finding out her history.

Darra was standing in the doorway of a hallway, holding up a pack of bacta-patches and some bandages.

"Thought you might need these."

Ahsoka studied Darra carefully, cautiously. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude, or —"

Darra interupted Ahsoka with a huff. "Just follow me, kid." She almost sounded resigned, like how Kix or Anakin had sounded whenever she refused a checkup after a battle.

Ahsoka relented, and allowed herself to be led deeper into the apartment by the red Twi'lek.

...

"Oh my God."

Why does she keep saying that? What is a 'God'?

Ahsoka quickly shook the thought out of her head as a bubble rose in her chest and she had to fight down a laugh. It was not exactly the most appropriate time for hysterics.

"How did you not complain the whole entire day? Why did you even work?"

Ahsoka was sitting on the rim of the ceramic toilet, the Twi'lek crouched i'm front of her, examining her bare torso with a look a flinching disbelief.

"Oh great. I thought it would be bad," Ahsoka muttered in response — no matter how old she got, she didn't think she would ever lose her snippy attitude.

"What happened?"

Ahsoka raised her white eye-markings.

"I mean, I know who did it, but what...?"

"Probably a kick. I don't really remember much. I think I blacked out for a bit." She gave a shrug but immediately winced from the movement.

Darras face paled. "Blacked out? They didn't... you know... did they?"

Ahsoka felt her montrals darken and her face flush. "Um... I-I don't think so, no." She felt the same burn in her cheeks that she had felt after Anakin had asked her the same question after escaping from Zygerria. Force, that had been a mortifying conversation to have with her Master and Kix.

Darra released a tense breath before studying Ahsokas face. "You're positive?"

"Yes." She wasn't, but she didn't want to be wrong, so she tried to convince herself she was right.

The floor was still cold. I was still dressed.

Darra nodded, the color coming back to her face slightly. "Okay. Okay, that's good."

Ahsoka almost felt bad for the Twi'lek — and a little guilty too. The poor woman certainly didn't ask for the burden of a random injured girl.

Ahsoka felt another cool drop of water run down her bare back and she shivered. She had been practically ordered to bathe by Darra, who had leant her a clean set of clothes after she had stepped out of the shower, her skin bright red from the scalding water she had used to try and rid her body from the memory of unwanted touches.

She had been given a pair of black shorts and another large shirt — though the shirt was sitting folded beside her on the floor while she donned only her undergarments as Darra tried to help her with her injuries.

She felt vulnerable in the cold, steam filled bathroom sitting shirtless in front of a stranger, but at least said stranger was the same gender as her — it had never not been awkward when she was forced to do the same in the presence of a clone medic like Kix, or even her Master. Though then again, it was war — and war didn't care about dignity.

Her cheeks flushed slightly as she remembered the time she had come down with a fever, and, while delirious, had been stripped down to practically only her undergarments in the med bay in order to regulate her body temperature — Fives had never let her hear the end of that one — it had been mortifying once she had come to from the delirium. (Thankfully, Kix had spared at least some of her dignity by leaving her in shorts instead of underwear).

The squeak of the door opening and light footsteps padding through the appartment made Ahsokas hearing perk up.

"Mom?" A female voice echoed through the apartment. She sounded around Ahsokas age, maybe older.

"Mom, guess what —?" A light red Twi'lek seemed to bounce into the doorway before freezing, seemingly taking in the shivering, half-naked girl covered in bruises.

Ahsoka crossed her arms over her chest self consciously and gave a strained smile to the girl, bordering an apology, though what for, she didn't know.

"Oh! Um... Sorry. I'll just..." she pointed weakly down the hallway as her eyes flickered questioningly to her mother before scurrying away, her cheeks slightly flushed — matching Ahsokas at the moment as well.

"My daughter, Elena." Darra explained apologetically after noticing Ahsokas discomfort. "Sorry, I forgot what time she would be home."

"It's alright." Ahsoka assured her, her cheeks returning to her normal skin tone.

"Now, let's get this sorted before we eat, yeah?"

"Yeah."

...

After a tedious few minutes of Darra attempting her best at first aid, she soon discovered that the Togruta seemed to know a great deal more than her, and so she surrendered her medkit to the girl and let her do her thing, occasionally stepping in when the Togruta wasn't able to.

She studied the bruised teenager, watching her nimble, bruised hands work at wrapping the bandages like it was second nature — almost absentmindedly, as if it was out of habit.

Darra really didn't know why she had taken an interest in the girl — it wasn't like Darra had the space or the credits to raise another child — she already had her hands full with a fifteen year old and a seventeen year old, and she wasn't sure she wanted to add a sixteen year old to the mix.

Though something stopped her from listening to the seeds of doubt and ingrained habits of fending for only herself. Maybe it was because she was a mother. Maybe it was because she could relate to the girl.

Though none of those things had ever been a reason for Darra to help someone before.

She decided it was just fate.

It took her a moment to realize that the girl had stopped moving, seemingly finished wrapping her hands and torso. Darra had spread a thin layer of bacta-cream over the bruises on her face, and placed a flimsy bacta-patch on her bruised montrals and lekku earlier, so it was almost comical how lathered up in medical supplies she was.

She was studying Darra, almost apprehensively, or suspiciously. But the most unsettling thing about her piercing gaze was how she seemed to be really seeing Darra, not just looking at her, or observing. Like a mediator judging the balance between one thing or another — it wasn't a judgmental stare, but more of a brutally honest one, like she could see Darras conscience, both good and bad.

"Why are you helping me?"

Darra hesitated. I dont know.

"Because... I dont want any more shelves being destroyed down there. They're a pain to fix." She kept her expression neutral and her tone flat and uninterested — she really hoped she wasn't getting attached to this random child off the street — after all, that wouldn't be good for her reputation. Taking kids off the street, what was she, an orphanage?

The girls mouth twitched. "I guess I should've said this earlier, but sorry about the shelves."

"Yeah, you will be tomorrow when you have to fix them." Darra couldn't stop the corner of her mouth from twitching this time.

"Noted." The girl responded, her eyes twinkling with humor.

Darra stood from where she was crouched in front of the teen. "Cmon — I want to introduce you to my kids."

...

Ahsoka hugged her arms around her heavily bandaged midrif as she followed Darra back down the hallway.

After a few failed attempts at pulling the shirt over her head without disrupting her bacta-lathered skin and montrals, they decided they didn't want to risk it.

Really, Ahsoka was so bandaged around the middle that she could have passed for wearing a shirt anyway. And to be honest, she was so tired and sore that she found she didn't care very much about her vulnerable appearance at the moment — she just wanted to sleep.

She shivered. The apartment was cold. Their footsteps echoed through the dark hallway as they approached the illuminated room at the end where a few muffled sounds of domestic life could be heard.

Ahsoka found herself stepping into the soft light of a living room, a kitchen adjacent filled with the lively sound and smell of cooking.

Although Ahsoka was hungry, she really wasn't in the mood to eat after everything that had happened — she had lost her appetite.

Ahsoka followed Darra almost in a daze, allowing herself to be lead across the small room to the stove, where the light red Twi'lek was cooking some sort of soup.

"Smells good." Darra placed a caring hand on the shoulder of her daughter, and Ahsokas heart clenched.

She wondered, and not for the first time, what it would feel like to have a mother — someone who was to care for you and love you unconditionally.

What even was love? Ahsoka didn't know, but it felt like a taboo. She almost felt guilty for thinking about it, her stomach sinking and her chest weighed down, but she was no longer a Jedi — she didn't have to avoid it like the plague anymore.

She wondered if she had ever been loved before. Was it something that was said, or felt, or both?

Was it an action or a mindset? She didn't know, but she did know that Darra definitely loved her daughter.

She wondered if Anakin had loved her. The thought almost startled her, but then she wondered if she loved him.

No, right? She didn't like him that way — he was like her best friend, her brother. But as she watched Darra talk and laugh with her daughter, she wondered if there were different kinds of love, not all romantic.

Well, she knew Anakin felt something for a certain senator from Naboo, but she couldn't be entirely positive, as she didn't even know what love really was like.

Though as she watched Darras interaction with her daughter — the soft touch of a hand, the proud, caring looks, the gentle smiles and laughs, and the look in their eyes... one of unconditional understanding — she was reminded of her Master.

His reassuring hand on her shoulder, or his challenging smirks and laughs turned into soft smiles, or the look of determination in his eyes whenever she was in danger. Does he love me?

But more importantly, do I love him?

She hoped so. She knew he would travel across the galaxy and back just for her, and she would do the same for him in a heartbeat, but she just didn't fully understand the concept of it.

It wasn't at all like what she felt for Lux — she didn't think she loved him, but she had felt something for him — like a slow burn of want that interfered with her mind and judgment. Though she thought she was over that now — the flame gone out long ago.

But what about Anakin? How did she know if she loved him? I think so... right?

So then why did you leave?

The unwanted thought startled her into taking a panicked step back.

I had to. I couldn't stay!

Tell that to Anakin.

Stop it.

You deserted him. You left him.

No. I had to!

Is that really love?

Ahsoka felt a salty sting teasing her unfocused eyes, but she quickly shoved her emotions way back into the corner of her mind — the little locked box that she had been trained to use by the Jedi.

She shook her head, coming back to the present as a soft sniffly sound filled the room.

A boy, maybe the same age as her, almost stumbled into the room, wrapped in blankets but still shivering profusely.

"Arodi! What are you doing out of bed!"

The boy, who seemed to be named Arodi, ignored his mother as he stared curiously at Ahsoka.

"Who are you?"

Ahsoka opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She hesitated, her eyes shooting nervously toward Darra, hoping she would mediate the situation out of its awkwardness.

"This is Ana — but you need to go back to bed. Now." Darra emphasized, pointing sternly down the hallway, but the boy still didn't move.

He reminded Ahsoka a bit of herself — disobeying simple directions from Anakin when she didn't think they were important (she usually found she was wrong, but that never stopped her from doing it, unfortunately).

"Can't I just stay up for dinner? Please, Mom?" His voice was horribly nasally, and his nose was a darker red than the rest of him — though he did look pretty pale in general.

Darra crossed her arms, giving a resigned huff. "Fine. But straight to bed after."

"Thanks, Mom." He have her a cocky smirk. "I knew you would cave... eventually."

Darra rolled her eyes with a huff, turning back to the stove as she muttered under her breath while the boy sat down at the table — though Ahsoka didn't think she was that annoyed from the small sparkle of humor in her eye.

"Ana," Ahsoka snapped her attention to Darra. "Put this on the table."

Ahsoka complied, carefully taking the pitcher of blue milk and carrying it over to the wooden table.

She felt the boys eyes following her — though not like the Devaronians at the taverns — more in a curious way.

"So, who are you?"

Ahsoka straightened up from where she had bent down to place the pitcher on the table.

"I'm Ana." She said shortly. She wasn't much in the mood for conversation, though she felt she kind of owed it to him, seeing as she was the one intruding on his life.

He rolled his eyes and then sniffled. "No, really? No, I mean what's your deal?"

Ahsokas mouth twitched slightly, his sarcasm familiar and welcoming. "It's complicated," she said, matching his tone and cocky demeanor with a hand on her hip — she felt more like herself now that she was bantering with someone who appreciated sarcasm.

He raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it always?"

"I would say so," she agreed with a shrug, her eyes twinkling.

"So where do you come from?"

"Nowhere."

"Everybody comes from somewhere."

"Not me."

He snorted, opening his mouth to retort, but at that moment his sister walked over, hitting the back of his head as she went.

"Hey!" His outcry was ignored, though.

"I hope you're not grilling the poor girl, Arodi. We don't want to scare her off already." She gave Ahsoka a warm smile. "I'm Elena, by the way." She stuck out her hand.

"Ana," Ahsoka smiled back with a nod, doing her best to shake the girls outstretched hand with her bandaged and swollen one.

"Sorry about this loser — he never knows when to shut up." She elbowed her brothers side as she sat down, to which he promptly elbowed her back in retaliation.

Ahsoka grinned at the siblings, letting out a short laugh even though it hurt her rib cage. "Don't worry," she assured her. "My M— um, older brother was the same way." She inwardly winced at her fumble, but tried to play it off with a smile.

It seemed to work, as neither of the siblings questioned it.

Elena laughed. "Yeah, brothers are annoying, but you gotta love 'em no matter what, right?" She pulled her brother into a headlock as he struggled out of her grip in annoyance, scowling as he punched her arm, though his eyes still sparkled.

"Yeah," Ahsoka smiled sadly. "I guess you do."

::::

Hey, guys 👋 Sorry it's been a hot minute since i've updated. The quarter ended so I was literally run over by tests and school work.

So here's an extra long chapter as an apology for disappearing, even if it actually sucks so bad — my brain is fried from school and thinking about all the homework i'm procrastinating.

By the way, I want to make it known that I legit just ate an entire pizza by myself (it was a small, but still, an accomplishment in my book). Am I stuffed? Yes. Do I feel like I'm about to hurl? Maybe. But was it worth it? Absolutely.

Also, sorry again for the sensitive topics — just message me with any complaints/requests — I can always tell you what happens or change it.

And let me emphasize this again: IT IS NEVER YOUR FAULT if something like this happens, and don't be afraid to speak out. And of course I am here if anyone needs to talk

Alright, thanks for reading! Bye!

*unedited

11/(12-15)/20

Word count: 6512