Ahsoka Tano One-Shots

Too Young, Too Mature, Too Much

Ahsoka nodded nonetheless. "It's hard."

"I know," Rex soothed. He wanted to wrap her in an embrace and tell her everything was okay and that the war would be over soon and she didn't have to worry about a thing.

But that would be a lie. It would be a whole bunch of lies. Because everything wasn't okay, and because no one knew how long the war would drag on, she had to worry about her duties as an officer.

Rex wouldn't have blamed her for bursting out into tears right there. Maybe he wanted her to... it would be a regular response and perhaps relieve some stress and tension.

"I'm okay," Ahsoka repeated, dragging herself to her feet. She stood tall with her head held high and marched off as if nothing happened.

Rex knew this was far from true. He knew how badly she ached on the inside. But, he also knew better than to say anything. He followed her back to their temporary base and watched her order the men around to their duties in a firm, yet somehow graceful manner.

He could've sworn she was 27 at that point, all her authority and responsibility shining. And that was so wrong. It wasn't a good thing. The Jedi Council could wait until she was 27 to let her act 27. They shouldn't make her be an adult at 14! She was too mature!

Calm down, Rex, he thought to himself. There's nothing you can do but makes sure she lives past today or tomorrow.

And it hurt him at how much that was true.

*         *         *

How dare they!

And they called themselves Jedi.

Rex couldn't just stand there as the three snobbish girls in front of him mocked his commander. They had neither reason nor right to do so.

None of them had fought in the war. None of them had to lead men into battle, and oftentimes death. None of them had to lay on rough, rocky ground each night, wondering if she would live past the morning. None of them had to walk through blood-soaked battlefields littered with dead bodies after each fight. None of them had to watch men die, hear the cries of dying and injured men, sit in the med-bay surrounded by men in comas, or bury dead brothers.

None of them had to stare death in the face, day after day, and gaze into its black pits of eyes and force herself to say, "I am not afraid."

None of them were Ahsoka Tano.

So how dare they. Rex opened his mouth to intervene, but Ahsoka, sensing the movement, held up her hand.

"I'm glad you're all doing well. Have a nice day, I'll see you later," Ahsoka told the girls. She grabbed Rex's arm and pulled him in the direction of the archives.

Rex and Ahsoka walked in silence for a minute.

"Commander?" Rex broke the silence.

"I'm fine, Rex, I'm used to it," Ahsoka tried a reassuring smile.

Rex wasn't convinced. "You sure?"

"Really, Rex, I'm okay," Ahsoka said. But she hung her head and looked at the ground with large, sad eyes, and Rex knew it was far from the truth.

*        *         *

Anakin bit his lip, holding Ahsoka's cold hand in his own and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He so badly wanted her to wake up.

She was too still. Her face was relaxed and perhaps peaceful, but her skin was dusky and covered in wounds.

What number was this? Four? Yes, four sounded about right.

Ahsoka was only 14 and she'd already been in four comas.

Anakin's heart ached and his throat tightened. None of them had been for more than a week or so, and twice they'd been less, but they were still unhealthy. Ahsoka shouldn't have to go through this. War was too much for any teenager. She deserved a childhood.

She deserved to have speeder races with her friends, watch late-night holo-films with her family, and volunteer to work at children's daycares and animal shelters.

She deserved to go shopping at malls every weekend and eat ice cream on hot days.

She deserved to know her family. She deserved to play with her little siblings and say good morning to her parents and go out with her older siblings.

She deserved to live. To really and truly live. Not scale the battlefield and nearly die 348 times each day. To live!

Hot tears stung Anakin's eyes. He caressed her hand and pressed the cool knuckles on the bridge of his nose and the back of the hand against his forehead. Anakin squeezed his eyes shut tightly and felt the tears leaking out of his eyes.

Anakin opened his eyes, hoping against hope that Ahsoka's brilliantly blue eyes would flutter open and meat his. They never did. Ahsoka's face remained stony still and dusky.

Anakin gazed at her longingly. Longing for her to have a childhood. Longing for her to have a good life. Longing for her to have anything but this.

He shut his eyes. One day, he thought. One day, I'll get her something more than this.

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Word Count: 1,492

Published: Apr. 20, 2022

Am I being dramatic or is that sad? 

I tried to make it sort of poetic in some parts. I don't think I'm a fabulous poet, however, so bear with me. 

Sooooo I don't know what else to say. Except...

Requests are open feel free to message me or make a comment if you have any ideas. 

Bye, peoples!