Chapter Text
This day, Talon decided, had rapidly found its way to the top of his Do Not Want list.
He could feel an ache in his very bones, the sizzling electricity of the stun shot still coursing through them, his muscles spazzing every few minutes when another aftershock came over him.
His head was actively trying to kill him, the spot where he’d been hit pounding so viciously that all he could hope for was that he didn’t keel over right in front of the Senate Guards, who were still dragging him and his fellow Padawans along to who knows where, but definitely away from the Temple and speaking of which–
The next guard who poked him with the non-electric end of his staff to make him walk faster was going to die, Force or no Force.
Judging by the aggravated snarls Ahsoka was letting out whenever she was pushed forward, the glares of certain doom Barriss was giving off and the way Raivis’ fists kept clenching despite the handcuffs, he wasn’t alone in making that promise.
He did have to give the Guard points for organization: Even with the war, there had been a couple hundred Padawans–and they’d still managed to shove them all into several transporters. They’d been brought into a building not too far away from the Temple and if Talon remembered correctly, then he’d set foot in a complex that was supposed to be another place for putting the most important war prisoners of the Separatists whom no one wanted to lump in with regular street criminals. The air smelled stale, like the building process hadn’t been finished all that long ago, but it seemed to serve its intended purpose, although in a maligned way. It was big enough to imprison a good few thousand people, certainly a fifth of that number.
And with the way the Coruscant Guard–whose numbers had grown exponentially fast in the Jedi Order’s brief planetary absence, it seemed–kept dragging teenagers off into corridors to throw two or more of them into locked rooms, the whole thing pretty much reeked of decision making prior to the actual act of taking the Order back to Coruscant.
The whole process didn’t take nearly as long as it probably should have. Talon was reasonably sure, even with a fuzzy head, that normally, procedures like this involved a lot more bureaucracy: Names, ages and species had to be accounted for at the very least, but for the most part, none of the guards really deemed it necessary to speak to any Padawan.
Until, of course, only Talon, Ahsoka, Barriss and Raivis were left.
Of course.
Of course, he and Ahsoka would be given more scrutiny–hells, what had he expected, having the Masters they had? Why Barriss and Raivis were treated the way they were, he wasn’t too sure about, but perhaps it had to do with the truly frightening look in Luminara’s eyes and the hasty reactions of Luzian at the mistreatment of their students.
“The last two cells,” Guard Number One announced, totally unnecessarily. “Hyrlell said to have two especially kept away from the others, right?”
Force, the Kenobi-Skywalker luck is coming out to play again.
“Unless you accidently took the wrong kids, then yeah,” Guard Number Two answered, the only one holding a datapad. The guards still holding on to them through their handcuffs and blasters didn’t say a word.
“Right then, let’s check this. I don’t want the guy raging at me for a mix up.”
Number Two hummed in agreement and stepped closer, apparently accessing a file, before apparently looking at the four Padawans very intensely. It was kind of hard to tell with the helmet and the black visor. After a few moments in which there was a tense silence, he finally spoke again, motioning to the ones holding on to Barriss and Raivis.
“Alright, these two aren’t important, just pack them into a cell like all the others.”
In any other situation, the deadpan expression on Raivis’ face at being deemed `not important´ would have been hilarious. As it were, Ahsoka and Talon only exchanged a glance that both said it’s us and of kriffing course it’s us.
As both the Mirialan and the younger Aketan were dragged into the cell they were standing close to, Number One removed his helmet, revealing a sharp, dark face and bored, brown eyes. He was seemingly unbothered by the things he was participating in, and Talon would’ve bet, had he had the Force, he’d feel nothing but boredom coming off the man in waves. Something that he only became surer of as the guard gestured to him and Ahsoka.
“Why these two then? They got any special power other than the whole Force thing?”
“No, you imbecile, these are the two kids running after Skywalker and Kenobi all the time!”
“Ah,” Number One said, then immediately shook his head, “no, I still don’t know who they are.”
Number Two groaned, raising his hands as if planning to grip his hair, before realizing that he was wearing a helmet. Instead, he took a step closer, pointing at both teenagers, first the Togruta, then the Aketan.
“Ahsoka Tano. Talon Craise.” At One’s uncaring shrug, he breathed loudly, before adding, “Both are pains in the ass if several Separatist prisoners are to be believed. And Hyrlell.”
“Don’t know why the guy’s making such a big deal out of this. They’re just teenagers.”
“Yeah, teenagers with the ability to rewrite your mind.”
Number One grinned sleazily, “Not anymore.”
“Still,” Number Two pressured, “you never know.”
One groaned, rolling his eyes for good measure, “This is such a waste if you ask me. Locking them away is a boring solution: I’m sure there are other things they could be doing.” He reached out a hand, gloved fingers running down Ahsoka’s lekku. “I can think of a few things Togrutas are good at.”
The next few seconds passed by in a strange, red-hazed blur.
It was like all of Coruscant had been thrown out of balance, becoming nothing more than a lost star amidst billions of others. The earth beneath Talon’s feet tilted as his sight, always so clear and defined and a hundred times more colorful than most species’ could ever be, became a fuzzy, tinted gray. Blue-wearing men turned into vaguely blue-ish figures, present and yet untouchable like smoke.
He didn’t notice that he’d moved, that he’d ripped himself free of the guard holding him back, or that honed reflexes and reactions of three long years made sure to land his knee in the weakest point of stomach-covering armor.
Next to him, in the corner of his eye, a strange colorful mix of orange, white, blue and red darted forward and in the next second, a cry of pain could be heard ringing through the hallway. A flash of white and deep red followed–something he would come to recognize as fangs sinking into flesh, only protected by the thin, black material of a jumpsuit, and drawing blood.
Next thing he knew, he was pushed inside a dark room, handcuffs ripped off him, landing hard on his back with Ahsoka soon following after. The loud ringing of a door mechanism finally broke through the haze and cleared up his sight–they’d been locked in.
To his left, Ahsoka let out an undignified curse, “Kriff, I’m tired of being thrown into cells.”
“This isn’t exactly my idea of a post-war party scene either,” Talon grumbled, slowly getting back on his feet and pulling the Togruta up with him. “Figures that this is what happens after we won. I don’t know why I expected anything else.”
“Well, that guard sure did expect something else to happen after that comment of his.”
He paused, uncertain, “Did you…bite him?”
“Ripped his vambrace off and then yes, right through the jumpsuit.” Ahsoka pulled a face, sliding her tongue over her teeth, still tasting the metallic flavor of blood. “I’d forgotten how disgusting this could feel.”
With a huff, Talon looked in another direction while stemming his hands in his sides, willing the blush on his cheeks to go away. There were many words running around in his head to describe Ahsoka’s action, but disgusting wasn’t one of them.
“So, uh, you think he’ll need stitches?”
“Don’t know, I didn’t really get a good look at the wound, I was just aiming for his arm and hoping it would hurt.”
The Aketan breathed a laugh, “I’m pretty sure it did.” Wrapping an arm around Ahsoka’s shoulder and holding her against his side for a few moments, he nodded to her, satisfied. “Served the sleemo right. I wish I could’ve gotten a few more punches in.”
“Ha, I don’t need you to defend my honor, you know.” She smiled at him. “But it’s appreciated.”
Both took a moment to inspect the cell they’d found themselves in. It didn’t look any better than the ones they’d become far too acquainted with over the course of the war, meaning dark grey in color, with stale air and just dark enough to feel claustrophobic, but not rendering them unable to see. Only, it was specifically designed to hold two people despite not being any bigger than those for one. A cot with barely any room to turn over on was attached to the left and to the right side respectively, a slit in the lower half of the door could be used to push food through and a lamp that had certainly never been used was hanging on a single thick cord from the ceiling.
“Mh,” Talon said, as he laid down on the left cot, “cozy.”
“Five-star recommendation,” Ahsoka agreed, “this gives my Resolute quarters a run for their money.”
Neither mentioned how badly they would’ve liked to be on their respective ships right about now. They continued to stare at their surroundings in silence before the slit in the door opened with a creak and one tray was shoved through it in a hurry, as if the bringer was scared of a wild animal snapping at him.
“Hey, look.” Ahsoka’s voice was deadpan. “We get room service.”
“Any chocolate is for me!”
The Togruta chuckled, kneeling down to inspect the contents of the tray. “Sorry, Tal, no candy. But I’m offering you the choice between a soggy thing I’m not quite sure is bread and an interesting mutation of blue cheese.”
“I think I’ll take my chances with starvation.”
“If we’re going down that road, I’m almost certain actually eating the food will kill us faster than not eating it.”
“By the Force,” Talon huffed, lifting himself up to his elbows and glancing at the bluish cheese-like monstrosity Ahsoka was holding up with her fingertips, furrowing his eyebrows. “Alright, I haven’t seen anything that disgusting since our time on Jedha.”
“At least this isn’t still moving,” Ahsoka murmured, dropping the cheese back on the tray. Something seemed to occur to her then, as she paused in her movement to take a closer look at the bread, before turning back to the Aketan. “Did you ever think that maybe we’re taking this too well?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, most people would be clinging to each other out of fear, or they’d be crying and panicking, wondering if they’ll ever the light of day again, that sort of stuff.”
Talon smiled a half-smile, lifting an arm, “If you wanted a hug, you only needed to ask.“ At Ahsoka’s stare, he sighed, nodding slightly, “Yes, I have thought about that.”
“And? Conclusion?”
“We’ve been in and out of terrifying, potentially life-ending situations for three years,” he said with a shrug, “I suppose after everything we’ve already seen, we’ve just gotten used to it.”
Ahsoka made no sound to indicate she’d heard him, but she did shift off her legs to lean with her back against the cold metal wall instead. Holding her knees tight to her body and resting her chin on them, she stared into nothing, her blue gaze suddenly far away. She didn’t truly register the movement she could spot in the corner of her eyes until Talon came fully into view, settling down beside her, their shoulders touching. Neither Padawan made eye contact–the same ability to communicate neither with words nor with the Force that had gotten them through the darker days of the war now made the small cell seem a little bit less daunting.
Minutes ticked by if their inner clock was to be believed. It might as well have been a few hours, or a few days. Time really did cease when no indicator of it was available.
“Do you think that’s okay?” Ahsoka asked eventually when the silence had just reached a tipping point. “That we’re used to it?”
The question hung in the air like thick smoke, uncomfortable and suffocating.
“Well,” Talon replied vaguely, “I’ve never…really thought about it that way?”
“Not once? Really?”
The Aketan shrugged, looking away from her. “It was always easier not to.”
“I couldn’t think about anything else sometimes, especially towards the end,” Ahsoka murmured, voice still full of surprise, “I’d lie awake for hours on these nights, wondering if all that was just part of a Jedi’s life or if I’d gotten too used to a soldier’s life instead.”
“I was always better at compartmentalizing than you.”
With a side glance, the Togruta acquiesced, but didn’t let up, “Maybe you were more skilled at just knowing to keep going. I mean…we did end the war a few weeks ago, then the Senate put up all these restrictions, Petro got shot, the march on the Temple, our escape to Ilum and almost immediate recapture, now the imprisonment, it all happened so fast. Not even our missions were paced like this all the time.”
“…I guess so.”
“Hm, now I feel like at least one of us should’ve had a major breakdown at some point but didn’t.”
“What is this, a therapy session?”
“There it is, our old friend, your unending sarcasm. You resort to it a lot, have you noticed that?”
Talon huffed, a little put out, “We don’t have time for this right now, you know that. We need to find a way to get out of here.”
“I know…” Ahsoka sighed, leaning her head back against the wall, eyes stuck to the ceiling. “It just feels like we can never catch a break. I wish people would leave us alone for five minutes.”
“I’d prefer five months. Five years. Or five centuries.”
“Hm, that doesn’t sound so bad right now.”
In both their heads, a scenario formed where they weren’t called on for every little thing. Where they could spend time in the Temple without having to worry about not being there for the next class.
“You said something about sleepless nights back there…?”
“Hm?” Ahsoka roused. “Oh, yeah…it wasn’t that often, really. Just after the bad ones sometimes.”
Talon looked at her strangely, “You…you could have called me. I would’ve answered unless I was in battle or something. You know that, right?”
“Of course I do! I just didn’t want to bother you with my thoughts running wild, I guess. Besides, training usually helped–and I did come to you once, when we were all flying back to Coruscant!”
“You did?”
“Yeah. It was, uhm, after Zygerria. Remember?”
“I remember.”
And he did. Zygerria had been bad. Not quite like the disbelief rooted in betrayal like Umbara, or the growing desperation during their stunt in the Citadel–Zygerria had hit elsewhere, had been more personal in a way. Togrutas were just as desired when it came to slavery as Twi’leks, there had been Anakin’s background to consider, Obi-Wan’s suffering and torture had not been easy to swallow, and Aketan eyes, while not as well-known a fact, sold well on the market.
No, leaving Zygerria behind as they’d jumped to hyperspace had been one of the greatest reliefs during the entire course of the war. Helix and other medics had nagged Talon out of the med bay to let Obi-Wan rest, so he’d ended up simply going to his quarters and fallen face first into bed. Anakin and Ahsoka hadn’t returned to the Resolute by then, preferring to wait until they arrived at Coruscant, and so, they’d all ended up recovering on the Negotiator for the entirety of the flight.
It had been a rough first night.
xxx
Ahsoka wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, but she did know that lying in her bed with her eyes wide open for hours on end wasn’t helping her with getting some rest.
When the door closed behind her and the pleasant heat of the quarters embraced her like an old friend, she stepped forward until she stood right before the bed. Talon let out a sigh-like breath and then rolled over onto his left side, blearily blinking up at her with dark eyes.
She didn’t need to say anything.
Wordlessly, Talon lifted the blanket with one arm, making just enough space to allow her to slip in. He turned onto his back, and as Ahsoka curled up into him, bedding her head on his chest and soaking in the warmth he emitted with a quiet sigh, he embraced her with his left arm around her waist.
“Nightmares?” he asked, voice so light it barely disturbed the peace surrounding them.
“No,” she said, “just couldn’t sleep.”
He hummed in understanding–he himself had barely been dozing despite being more tired than anything, “What’s on your mind?”
“Do you think all this will ever be over?” She looked up at the sound of him turning his head down towards her. “Because sometimes, I feel like it won’t.”
“Ahsoka,” he murmured, “of course it will be over someday. Nothing lasts forever, not even war.”
“I know I always said supervising the drafting of a treaty sounds boring, but by now, I think I’d give anything for one between the Republic and the Separatists.”
“’S not all bad. We never would have met the clones otherwise.”
The Togruta made a noise of agreement, burying her smile in his chest, “Still. It’s been almost three years. I’m starting to get tired of it. I want to stay at the Temple, and I want it to be like old times, when we didn’t have to worry about our next mission every minute of the day.”
Talon sighed quietly, tightening his embrace around her. Her pleasant warmth made it difficult to keep his eyes open, though his skin prickled slightly where her quiet breaths landed.
He’d made it a point not to think about how long it had been since the war started. Sometimes, of course, the thought would creep up on him, stun him for a while until he was able to shake it off again, but he refused to let the worries and the burdens of daylight chase him into his sleep.
Everything ends, he kept saying in his head whenever it became necessary again, war included.
“It will be like that again, ‘Soka, I promise. There’ll still be tons of things for us to do, but we’ll deal with them in peace. We’ll help the clones, we’ll go home and,” he hesitated, running a hand down her lekku as she shivered slightly, “we can talk about this, too. After the war.” One side of his mouth curled up, “Master Yoda says the future is always in motion. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Dooku will have a stroke and die in his sleep.”
Ahsoka chuckled, “Maybe Grievous will choke on his coughs.”
“Maybe the droid army will collectively malfunction.”
“Maybe the Chancellor will stop being a greedy sleemo.”
“I think that last one might be a little too unrealistic.”
“Shh. A girl can dream.”
Quiet, but honest laughter rang through the darkness. Deep inside, Ahsoka felt something that had held her heart, her lungs and her spirit in a stranglehold finally give and dissolve. The healers had checked her over, of course, both Kix and Helix almost fretting over her like two concerned lothcat mothers, but she hadn’t noticed how tense she’d been until now.
Hm, she thought to herself, figures I can relax now.
“Thanks, Tal,” she murmured drowsily.
“Anytime. Just remember what I promised, okay?”
“Mhm.”
“Hey. Look at me.”
And even though the exhaustion had finally caught up to her, the warmth of the quarters and Talon’s familiar, comforting scent aiding it in letting her fall asleep, Ahsoka still lifted her head a little to catch his gaze with her own. She felt her breath catch in her throat for a moment as she took in the brightness of his eyes, the way deep brown overlapped with amber patches and gold-colored sprinkles. Still just as pretty as the day she’d first seen them. And more so than ever, confidence gleamed in them. Talon had never lied to her since she’d known him–she breathed easier, knowing he wasn’t about to start now.
“After the war?” Her voice wasn’t more than a whisper.
She felt his right hand coming up to her left, briefly holding it to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it.
“After the war.”
xxx
That night seemed so far away now. Just like earlier, happier times before the war seemed like they’d happened in another universe. Right now, it just felt like someone had taken a knife to time itself and ripped right through it, separating the last three years from the moment the people of Coruscant had marched on the Temple.
Ahsoka was still trying her best not to think about the latter.
A look to Talon made her smile slightly: The Aketan’s eyes were slightly glazed over, staring at something only he could see–he was lost in memories. His voice speaking the promise had rung through her at odd times during campaigns and shore leaves both. It had never failed to brighten her day at least a little, no matter where she’d been or how bad she’d been off. Thanks to Anakin and Obi-Wan being deployed together far more often than any Jedi team, she’d never lost touch with him either. And during truly trying times for her personally, like the Temple Bombing, it had once again served as a major reassurance.
After the war, after the war, after the war…
But they weren’t done fighting it, were they?
“You said something to me,” she said quietly, “about…after the war.”
“I did.”
A few seconds passed in silence, before Talon turned his head to look at Ahsoka with something burning in his eyes, “The war’s not over yet.”
“No,” she said, gaze locked on to his, “it isn’t.”
“But it will be.”
“And then we’ll have time?”
“And then we’ll have time.”
She seemed to look for something in his eyes, staring into them for much longer than one would normally find comfortable. Whatever it was that she was searching for, she found it, a smile appearing on her face as she turned to take a small cup from the tray still laying by the door.
“Come on, the guards were nice enough to give us one drink. If the food’s killing us, maybe the” – a quick look inside the cup – “jogan juice is drinkable at least.”
“Jogan juice, really? I expected unfiltered water.”
“Maybe someone is trying to make up for the food,” Ahsoka chuckled, about to hand the cup over. “A sip each?”
“Wait.”
The Togruta stopped, lowering the cup again and then passing it over when he reached for it. Talon frowned as he took in the deep purple color, tipping the cup a bit so the liquid sloshed against its sides.
“This isn’t jogan juice.”
“What?” Ahsoka inched closer, scanning the juice intently, finding nothing wrong with it. “But it looks exactly like it!”
“I imagine to most species, it does, but to my eyes…it’s almost perfect, off by just a shade. But whatever it is, it’s not made from a jogan fruit.”
Breathing in sharply, Ahsoka’s own blue gaze flew to Talon’s multicolored one, the brown, amber and gold intensely focused on the not-juice once more reminding her that Aketan eyes didn’t just look pretty.
“Drugs? Poison?” She took a deep breath. “I don’t smell anything off about it. Are you sure it’s not just some other kind of fruit?”
“Pretty sure,” Talon murmured, “why would they give us some kind of exotic juice when the bread and cheese is already apparently a plot to kill us? Plus, they wouldn’t have tried so hard to mask it as actual jogan juice–like I said, almost no one would ever spot the difference.”
“We’ll steer clear of it then.” Ahsoka put the cup back down, gazing at the food with a scoff leaving her lips. “Thank the Force I got my own personal color detector.” Her words settled in, causing her to lift her head in a flash, “Do you think it could be a Force suppression drug?”
“I don’t know. I suppose the only way to test it is to not drink it and see what happens.”
“But the others…”
The Aketan looked at her, mouth twisted, “Raivis will most likely recognize it and keep Barriss from drinking it, but…” No further words needed to be spoken. Few species had as exact an eyesight as the Aketans when it came to colors.
Ahsoka gulped. There were hundreds of Padawans who’d likely been given the same tray. Most of them would, hopefully, not touch the contents for a time, distrusting of anything their captors gave them, but depending on how long they’d be stuck here…and what of the others? Anakin and Obi-Wan, and Master Plo, all the other Knights and Masters?
Talon seemed to share her thoughts, “I think we might need to get out of here a lot quicker than planned.” He turned to her. “Tell me you stole a lockpick or something at some point that could get us out of here.”
“Uh…no.”
“Shame.” She watched him shake his head with incredulous eyes, like he was actually disappointed. “Because for the moment, I’ve got nothing.”
She leaned against him in support, nodding to herself like everything was already falling into place, even though she was as clueless as him right now, “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way. We always do.”
Well.
This wasn’t quite what he’d expected to happen after they’d won the war.
Quinlan sighed, rubbing his shoulder with an annoyed grimace on his face. That damn electro staff had hurt like hell, even more so now that he couldn’t use the Force to filter the pain.
He’d been dragged off eventually, same as the others, when Hyrlell had finally finished his little speech and just in time too–the guy had to be aware that his nasty voice was a prime candidate when it came to causing headaches. The Senate Guard, and its number had grown in the past twenty-four hours, he was sure of it, had split up the Masters from the Knights and then forced them into different parts of the Temple, seemingly throwing them into random quarters. Some were lucky to be locked in with company, others, like him, were alone.
And now, he was imprisoned in what he believed to be Stass’ quarters, waiting for something to happen. At least they’d taken the handcuffs off.
The rooms were stripped of anything personal Quinlan had quickly noted. No decorations or pictures were left, no sign of Tholothian culture or spare Jedi robes to be found. He tried his best to convince himself that Stass had taken these things with her to Ilum, but in light of their quick escape, it seemed highly unlikely.
Just like the rest of the Temple, all their quarters had likely been looted.
The Kiffar had walked over to the opposite wall, hand outstretched and fingers gliding softly over a big burn mark: a sign of forced entry. The mob had gotten this far then, before the clones had showed up.
Anger was running rampant in his blood–he could almost hear it boiling. The Force still eluded him, lingering just out of reach when he grasped for it, and it just made him angrier. Couldn’t anything ever go right nowadays?!
The door behind him opened, a blue-clad guard slipping inside. Nothing that could have helped him calm down as he turned around, clenching his teeth at the man.
Quinlan was prepared for any eventuality: more beatings, perhaps, or electricity. Or a speech about how low the Jedi had fallen. Even torture. But never in his wildest dreams had he expected the guard to throw down his weapon and run right up to him, throwing his arms around his neck on a whim.
“Kriffing hells, you’re alright–“
A punch to the stomach quickly ended the guard’s sentence as he doubled over.
“I don’t know what games you think you can play,” the Kiffar said, quiet and forceful, hands wrapping themselves around the man’s neck. “But I want you to know, you piece of–“
“Quin, for Force’s sake,” came the gargled voice, “it’s me.”
Hold on. That sounded oddly familiar.
In a swift move, he ripped the blue helmet right off its wearer and stared into deep brown eyes. Curly black hair, having outgrown the strict military cut just that much, and a face he would’ve been able to recognize out of millions–millions that actually existed, in this case–came into view and for the first time since he’d woken up on a venator, locked inside a cell, he truly felt relieved.
“Vixen,” Quinlan grinned, slightly shaking his head in disbelief, “I’ve never been happier to see you.”
Fox lifted an eyebrow, but the smile on his face didn’t let up, “Could have fooled me.”