fic: The Wild Chance of Living (Star Wars; Ahsoka/Aphra, Vader, Rex; adult)
The Wild Chance of Living
Star Wars; Ahsoka/Aphra, Vader, Rex; adult; 4,045 words
"Not like you to use a honey trap, though."
"That was not my intention."
Let's imagine Aphra was working for Vader pre-ANH. Set post-Rebels s2. Title from Denise Levertov. Read it at AO3.
~*~
The Wild Chance of Living
A hidden Rebel base
16:37 local time
Whispers have dogged Ahsoka since her unexpected return from Malachor. She's used to it--rumors and gossip have followed her since she was Anakin's padawan, and she learned then not to take it personally. The distrust is also familiar, if more unpleasant. She remembers the taste of it from the war--from civilian populations and unfamiliar clone troopers, and occasionally, from other Jedi who didn't like her master--and from the years after, when she'd had to make her way hidden and alone. It's new among the Rebels, though. She's worked with the Alliance since its fledgling days, but even Bail seems reluctant to give her any sensitive information now; she wonders if he already knows what she'd recently learned about Vader's previous identity, and if that's contributing to the distrust, or if he's just sacrificing her to appease others. It wouldn't be the first time someone's done it to her.
She supposes it doesn't really matter--she's still spent the last couple of weeks ferrying supplies around and making sure their small fleet of starfighters is ready to fly rather than doing anything more suited to her skills, and she'd still stay with Vader if she had it to do all over again, even though she doesn't think the outcome would change.
She doesn't think about what might have happened if she'd stayed the first time. What-ifs are a waste of time. She doesn't second guess herself anymore. It's kind of funny that it took leaving the Jedi and striking out on her own to give her the certainty and self-knowledge that all Jedi seek. (It's not funny at all, but she's learned to laugh instead of cry.) She thinks Obi-Wan, at least, would appreciate the irony, if he's still out there somewhere.
The Alliance needs her, even if its leaders no longer trust her, so she's not surprised to be called into a meeting with Bail and two of his advisors whose names she's never given. It's better for her not to know.
"Our agent will meet you on Taris," Bail says, wrapping up his instructions, "and you're to take them to Sedratis within ten standard days."
"Okay," she says, tamping down her curiosity and plastering a determined smile on her face. "You can count on me."
Bail's smile also looks tight but his eyes shine sincerely when he says, "I know." He touches her elbow briefly, gently. "Come back safe, and I might just have a mission requiring your skills ready to go."
She nods but doesn't speak. There's an ache in her chest from learning that he, at least, still trusts her.
*
A raucous cantina somewhere on Taris
Happy hour
Ahsoka sidles up to the bar at happy hour and stakes out a seat, nursing a drink and watching as the crowd changes from the one-drink after-work people to the out for the evening types and the regulars.
The increased Imperial presence when she arrived was a surprise and she's pretty sure it scared her contact away. Not that Ahsoka blames them. The Alliance is planning something, though Bail has been cagey about what, and enough rumors have circulated that the Imps are on an even shorter fuse than usual, just waiting for someone to set them off. Which is making everyone else even twitchier than usual.
The evening crowd is turning into the late night crowd, and Ahsoka doesn't need to be here for that. She's got a full ten days to deliver, so she can come back tomorrow night. She finishes off her drink and sets the glass on the bar with a click.
A human woman sits down next to her and says, "Bring her another and I'll have what she's having." When Ahsoka opens her mouth to protest, the woman says, "It's on me." She adjusts the goggles that are pushed up on her forehead and flashes Ahsoka a roguish smile. "I'm Aphra."
"Riyo," Ahsoka says, returning the smile. This isn't her contact and the Force isn't sending her any sort of warning, but she knows better than to give a stranger her real name; the bounty on her might have been lifted (it's possible Vader thinks she died on Malachor), but that doesn't mean someone wouldn't try to claim it if they could.
Aphra gives her a lingering once-over, her appreciation of what she sees visible in her eyes. "Okay." She raises her glass and downs the two fingers of whiskey like a shot. Her lips glisten with it. "That whiskey's not gonna drink itself."
Ahsoka laughs and drinks. The whiskey burns a path down her throat and she lets it heat her up. She loses track after the third drink, reaching out to the Force just enough to stay in that warm, bubbly place without ever tipping over into sloppiness or sulking. She's never been a maudlin drunk; that was always Obi-Wan. And it's been so long since she'd had the opportunity to meet someone without it being a mission or an obligation.
At some point, Aphra slips off her barstool to stand between Ahsoka's knees, her hands sliding up Ahsoka's thighs. Ashoka leans in and kisses her, licking the earthy, acrid taste of whiskey off her lips. She slips her fingers into the belt loops on Aphra's trousers and pulls her closer. Aphra's hands move to Ahsoka's waist, and then she runs the backs of her fingers up Ahsoka's lekku. Ashoka shivers and gasps, leaning into the touches, the kisses, the heat and softness of Aphra's body.
"I've got a room nearby," Aphra whispers.
"Let's go."
Ashoka doesn't remember much about how they got to the motel; it's a quick stumble from the bar, her clumsiness due more to not wanting to let Aphra go than the alcohol. The room is small and dingy, but it smells clean, and she doesn't sense any danger.
Aphra tugs her towards the bed and there's a couple of awkward moments when Aphra has to stop to unbuckle her boots before she can get her pants off, but Ahsoka doesn't care. She wants to kiss and touch all the smooth skin Aphra's revealing, and run her tongue down the dark line of hair on her belly to the curls between her legs, which beckon seductively.
Ahsoka's always been fascinated by hair.
They tumble down onto the bed, which creaks in protest at the weight, or maybe just the ferocity of their movement. They tussle a little and Ahsoka comes out on top with a feral smile. Aphra's dark hair fans out against the pillow and her mouth is red and swollen from their kisses.
Ahsoka licks the sweat from the hollow of her throat, the curve of her breast, before sucking a nipple into her mouth. Aphra lets out a low moan and arches into it, her hand coming up to cup the back of Ahsoka's head. She runs her fingers along Ahsoka's posterior lek and Ahsoka shudders.
She skims a hand down Aphra's body and then curls her fingers into the slick heat at the apex of her thighs.
Aphra pushes up into the touch and says, "Harder." She tangles her fingers with Ahsoka's and shows her how she likes to be touched. Ahsoka laughs, charmed by how well Aphra knows her own body and isn't afraid to ask for what she wants.
She loses herself to the sensations--the wet heat and textured skin of Aphra's cunt, the crisp curls tickling her wrist as she flexes it, the taste of salt of Aphra's sweat and the sounds Ahsoka's drawing from her. Those sighs and moans resonate down into Ahsoka's body, making her own cunt tighten in desire. Sex lets her exist purely in her body for long moments, the way combat used to, and she misses that, sometimes, the utter physicality of it singing with a rightness in the Force that rivals the deepest meditation she's ever managed. Sex is only a slightly less dangerous way of finding that.
Aphra comes with a guttural cry and the clamping of her body around Ahsoka's fingers. Ahsoka strokes her through it and then kisses her when she collapses back onto the pillows, spent.
Ahsoka's still revved up and aching, but she can take care of herself if Aphra's out for the night.
She's not, though. "Let me," she says with a wicked grin. She twists and shifts down the bed, putting her mouth exactly where Ahsoka needs it most. Then she swings a leg over Ahsoka's torso, inviting her to use her own mouth in the same way.
It's heady, distracting, all-encompassing. She can barely concentrated on the earthy, salty taste of Aphra's cunt while Aphra fucks her with her tongue. They move together like a powerful engine, and Ahsoka thinks she can feel the planet turning beneath her when she comes in a rush of pleasure and wetness that makes her whole body shake.
She plunges her fingers into Aphra's slick heat and crooks them in just the right way. Aphra lights up and comes again, shuddering above her.
Ahsoka lets herself sink into the blinding brightness of the Force at that moment, and feels better than she has in weeks.
*
A bedroom in a seedy motel on Taris
05:01 Imperial Standard Time
Ahsoka is still in that drowsy space between sleeping and waking, her body warm and languorous after a night of whiskey shots and orgasms, when the Force rings with warning.
She sits up and calls her lightsabers to her hands but her legs are still tangled with Aphra's in the sheets and she doesn't make it to her feet before the door explodes inward and Darth Vader stalks through it. He gives her a once-over that makes her stomach clench in humiliation, and then angles his mask away.
"Aphra," Vader booms, or maybe it's just the hangover that makes Ahsoka's montrals vibrate painfully, "when I said Lady Tano was to be taken alive, I didn't mean she was to be," there's a pause so minute that if Ahsoka hadn't known him for years, she wouldn't have caught it at all, "taken in any other sense of the word."
"She did her share of giving, too, boss," Aphra says, propped up on her elbow, chin cupped in her hand. Her hair is tousled but she's still neatly covered with the sheets, unlike Ahsoka, who crosses her arms over her bare chest, lightsabers still at the ready. She could fight naked, though she's never had to before, but she'd really prefer not to. "Very generous, and very good with her mouth."
Ahsoka hadn't thought her whole body could blush, but apparently it can. There's a tiny part of her brain that's mortified at being caught naked in bed with what is apparently the enemy, especially in front of her old master, but the rest of her brain is more afraid of dying than being lectured on her lack of vigilance, or possibly her loose morals. She can never tell with him anymore.
"Can I at least put some clothes on before you kill me?" she asks as flippantly as she can manage.
Vader makes an indecipherable noise that, under other circumstances, Ahsoka would say is a huff of exasperation, and gestures sharply. Her clothes jump from the floor to her lap. "Be quick about it."
She has to put her weapons down to pick up her clothes, but given that he hadn't killed her on sight, maybe she can still get out of this alive. Still, she sighs when he confiscates her lightsaber and shoto and tucks them somewhere beneath his cape. She pulls her tunic on and does up the straps, and then shimmies into her leggings as quickly as she can, calling on the Force to help her keep her balance. The last thing she needs is to sprawl flat on her face in front of him with her leggings around her knees. The morning's already been humiliating enough and the sun hasn't even risen yet.
"I don't suppose I could have a glass of water, maybe brush my teeth?" Her mouth tastes like something died in it.
The mask swings back her way. "Don't try me, Ahsoka."
"Yeah, yeah," she says, "you're going to kill me. I've heard it all before." She looks over her shoulder at where Aphra is getting dressed now. "Not like you to use a honey trap, though."
"That was not my intention." He glances over at Aphra, his displeasure plain even without the ability to see his face.
Ahsoka doesn't know if it's that his body language is still Anakin's under that horror of a suit or if some vestige of their old bond is sparking due to proximity, and she's not sure she wants to. She decides to chalk it up to the Force. Her head and her heart hurt too much to spend more time thinking about it.
"I was multitasking," Aphra protests. "I know you like things done efficiently."
He makes an irritated humming noise before turning to Ahsoka again. "It is not like you to fraternize with strange women you meet in cantinas."
Ahsoka has to laugh at that. "No," she says, "it's exactly like me, these days." She knows it'll get a rise out of him, and possibly end her life more quickly than either of them would like, but she can't resist saying, "Obi-Wan was kind of a terrible influence, now that I think about it."
The temperature in the room drops, but she doesn't get Force-choked, so he must need her for something.
"I could have told you that years ago," Vader says, and if Ahsoka didn't know better, she'd say there's some amusement lacing the bitterness of that statement. "Now come, we have an interrogation to attend."
"Well, excuse me if I'm in no rush to get there."
"If you prove useful, you may yet survive." He clamps one large hand on her shoulder and turns her towards the door. How unfair is it that now that she's as tall as Anakin was, he's almost a foot taller?
She takes a deep breath and focuses on the Force, letting it ease away her hangover and the lassitude with which she'd woken up. If he's not planning to kill her immediately, she might still get out of this alive. She narrows her eyes at Aphra and thinks the same can't necessarily be said of her.
"So quick to shift from amorous to murderous," Vader says, picking up on her mood if not her thoughts. "You would make a powerful Sith, Ahsoka."
"Thanks but no thanks, big guy." It's hard not to fall back into familiar rhythms in her discombobulated state. At least she doesn't quite let the old nickname slip. "I spent too long in that Sith temple to be interested in buying what you're selling."
"We shall see."
"Oh, we shall," Ahsoka replies, unwilling to let him have the last word.
"This is going to be fun," Aphra says, and Ahsoka has to take another deep breath so she doesn't lash out in frustration.
It's going to be a long kriffing day.
*
The Imperial Shuttle belonging to Darth Vader
05:33 Imperial Standard Time
With Vader's hand clamped on her shoulder, the walk to his shuttle is quick and inescapable.
"Leave us," he says to the squad of stormtroopers it contains, and glares at Aphra when she makes no move to follow them. "You too, Aphra."
"Are you sure, boss? I bet I could make her talk." Aphra contorts her features into an exaggerated leer.
"You have done enough." Vader's displeasure is palpable, but it seems to have no effect on Aphra.
"It's been nice knowing you," Aphra says with a rueful grin, throwing Ahsoka a sloppy salute before exiting.
Vader turns back to Ahsoka. "Now, let us discuss the whereabouts of your old friend, Saw Gerrera."
Ahsoka lets out a bark of laughter. "I haven't seen him in years."
"I do not believe that to be the case." Vader crosses his arms over his chest. "The Rebellion is planning something and he is involved."
"He might be, but I'm not." She doesn't try to keep the petulance out of her voice. Let him think she's disaffected as well as distrusted. She is a little surprised, though. Mon Mothma doesn't like Saw; she finds his methods too extreme, and she usually has the final say in joint missions, even over and above Bail and the military leaders.
"Nonsense. You are a known leader of a rebel faction and we have intel suggesting you have all begun to cooperate." He says it like it's a dirty word.
Ahsoka shrugs. "I don't know. Since our little adventure on Malachor," she flicks her fingers between them, "I've been kept out of anything more high-level than supply runs."
"That they choose to cast you aside like so much refuse is yet more proof of how foolish the rebels are. Much like the Jedi before them."
That was meant to hurt, but Ahsoka's made peace with what happened all those years ago. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before responding. "Operational security is paramount. I don't take it personally." Though if she survives, this capture will count as another strike against her; she can't think of anyone else who's defied Vader as often as she has and lived.
Vader hums skeptically. It's possible he still knows her well enough to know that that's not one hundred percent true. Of course, that should mean he also knows well enough to know that this strategy isn't going to work on her. Not now, anyway.
They stare at each other for a long moment. He prods at the edges of her shields but makes no attempt to force his way inside them. She wonders how long it will be until he does, and how well she'll hold up against the intrusion. She considers and discards various strategies to protect her secrets while still allowing him to see that she's telling the truth, at least about Saw Gerrera.
The silence stretches uncomfortably between them. The fact that he lets it go on so long is yet another mark of how changed he is from the man she knew.
Finally, Ahsoka huffs, irritated and impatient, and breaks the silence. "What is it you're really looking for?"
He turns the full force of his attention on her now. "Where is Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
She reels back in honest surprise and not a little pain from the way the deep bass of his voice vibrates through her at that volume.
"Obi-Wan's alive?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Ahsoka. You know his bounty exceeds only your own."
"I thought my bounty was lifted, since I died on Malachor and all." She doesn't have to see his face to know what expression he's making under that mask. There's something viscerally satisfying about it.
"It has since been reinstated."
"Well, shit. There go my plans to finally settle down and become a nerf-herder."
She never gets to hear his response to that since his comm crackles to life.
"Hey boss, we've got a bit of a situation out here," Aphra says, her words punctuated by the sound of blaster fire. "It seems like one of the troopers has gone rogue?"
Ahsoka can't help the burst of hope that flares inside her. Could it be?
Vader makes another one of those disgruntled noises and points at her. "Our conversation is not done."
"I think it is," she replies, reaching out with the Force and taking back her lightsabers. They smack reassuringly against the palms of her hands and then she gestures again and the hatch slides open. "Aphra was right," she says over her shoulder as she somersaults off the shuttle and into the docking bay. "This is kind of fun." She lands on one knee and stabs her lightsabers through the control panel, bringing the door down behind her. It won't hold him for long, but it should give her an extra few seconds' head start, which might be all she needs.
She scans the area for allies and exits and finds both. She could tell Rex apart in a squad of clones when they first met; it's easy enough to pick him out of a group of stormtroopers now as he ducks out from underneath the tail of the shuttle.
He flashes a detonator at her and then grabs her wrist and pulls her along with him, hopefully in the direction of a ship. Three steps into their run, he presses the button and the back half of Vader's shuttle goes up in flames. It's not enough to kill him--Ahsoka doesn't know what would be, these days--but it sets even more pandemonium in motion among his troops.
They run halfway across the spaceport and then Rex chivvies her into a beat up old freighter. She feels a small pang of disappointment that he didn't come with the Ghost crew, but she supposes they have their own problems.
She slides into the pilot seat and starts the ignition sequence while Rex scrambles down the ladder to man the guns.
It's not necessary to shoot their way out, though, with the stormtroopers still chasing them on foot and Vader's shuttle in disarray. The star destroyer in orbit above the planet doesn't scramble its fighters in time, and they make the jump to hyperspace as the first TIEs launch from its ports.
"You came," she says, once she can focus on something other than escape. Her hands are trembling and her stomach either wants to be fed or wants to crawl up the back of her throat--she's not quite sure which, yet.
She throws herself into his arms and he holds her, his hands gentle on her back and his body solid and warm against hers.
"Of course," Rex replies, as if there were never any doubt.
She pulls away reluctantly. "But--How did you know?"
"There were rumors that the Imperial presence around Taris was being stepped up."
"There were? I hadn't heard them."
Rex makes a face; he's always had sources of intel he's kept to himself, so she doesn't press. "And you needed backup." Rex rubs the back of his neck and glances away. "I, uh, might not be here, officially."
Ahsoka's eyes widen in surprise. "I don't want you to get into any trouble on my account."
"I've never betrayed my Jedi," he says, "and I know you haven't betrayed the Alliance, despite whatever other people might think." He settles back into the co-pilot's seat. "The Alliance needs you, Ahsoka, and they'd be stupid not to see it." His calm solidity belies the words he doesn't say, about how much he needs her, but that's okay. Ahsoka hears them, anyway, and needs him just as much. She curls her fingers around his hand to let him know.
"I can't be much help if I'm constantly in Vader's crosshairs," she answers, subdued now that the adrenaline has worn off.
Another thing Rex doesn't say--he doesn't have to, because they've had the argument frequently since she's been back--but the fact that Vader is so focused on her not only helps the Alliance sneak beneath his radar, but it proves how much of Anakin is still in there, beneath everything. She can't let herself believe that means anything, though, can't let herself dream about getting him back.
"Though I think I've been replaced as number one on his hit list," she says finally. "He was asking about Obi-Wan when you interrupted."
Rex looks as surprised as she was. "General Kenobi is alive?"
Ahsoka shrugs. "Vader seems to think so." She shakes her head. There will be time to puzzle that out. "Do you have a secure channel on this thing? Can I let Bail know my mission was a bust?"
"Of course." He punches in the encryption codes while Ahsoka takes a few deep breaths and centers herself, giving her anxiety and depression over to the Force.
As long as they're alive, there's hope, and she's always been good at staying alive.
*
I am speaking of living
of moving from one moment into
the next, and into the
one after
"Another Spring" - Denise Levertov
~*~
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~*~
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Star Wars; Ahsoka/Aphra, Vader, Rex; adult; 4,045 words
"Not like you to use a honey trap, though."
"That was not my intention."
Let's imagine Aphra was working for Vader pre-ANH. Set post-Rebels s2. Title from Denise Levertov. Read it at AO3.
~*~
The Wild Chance of Living
A hidden Rebel base
16:37 local time
Whispers have dogged Ahsoka since her unexpected return from Malachor. She's used to it--rumors and gossip have followed her since she was Anakin's padawan, and she learned then not to take it personally. The distrust is also familiar, if more unpleasant. She remembers the taste of it from the war--from civilian populations and unfamiliar clone troopers, and occasionally, from other Jedi who didn't like her master--and from the years after, when she'd had to make her way hidden and alone. It's new among the Rebels, though. She's worked with the Alliance since its fledgling days, but even Bail seems reluctant to give her any sensitive information now; she wonders if he already knows what she'd recently learned about Vader's previous identity, and if that's contributing to the distrust, or if he's just sacrificing her to appease others. It wouldn't be the first time someone's done it to her.
She supposes it doesn't really matter--she's still spent the last couple of weeks ferrying supplies around and making sure their small fleet of starfighters is ready to fly rather than doing anything more suited to her skills, and she'd still stay with Vader if she had it to do all over again, even though she doesn't think the outcome would change.
She doesn't think about what might have happened if she'd stayed the first time. What-ifs are a waste of time. She doesn't second guess herself anymore. It's kind of funny that it took leaving the Jedi and striking out on her own to give her the certainty and self-knowledge that all Jedi seek. (It's not funny at all, but she's learned to laugh instead of cry.) She thinks Obi-Wan, at least, would appreciate the irony, if he's still out there somewhere.
The Alliance needs her, even if its leaders no longer trust her, so she's not surprised to be called into a meeting with Bail and two of his advisors whose names she's never given. It's better for her not to know.
"Our agent will meet you on Taris," Bail says, wrapping up his instructions, "and you're to take them to Sedratis within ten standard days."
"Okay," she says, tamping down her curiosity and plastering a determined smile on her face. "You can count on me."
Bail's smile also looks tight but his eyes shine sincerely when he says, "I know." He touches her elbow briefly, gently. "Come back safe, and I might just have a mission requiring your skills ready to go."
She nods but doesn't speak. There's an ache in her chest from learning that he, at least, still trusts her.
*
A raucous cantina somewhere on Taris
Happy hour
Ahsoka sidles up to the bar at happy hour and stakes out a seat, nursing a drink and watching as the crowd changes from the one-drink after-work people to the out for the evening types and the regulars.
The increased Imperial presence when she arrived was a surprise and she's pretty sure it scared her contact away. Not that Ahsoka blames them. The Alliance is planning something, though Bail has been cagey about what, and enough rumors have circulated that the Imps are on an even shorter fuse than usual, just waiting for someone to set them off. Which is making everyone else even twitchier than usual.
The evening crowd is turning into the late night crowd, and Ahsoka doesn't need to be here for that. She's got a full ten days to deliver, so she can come back tomorrow night. She finishes off her drink and sets the glass on the bar with a click.
A human woman sits down next to her and says, "Bring her another and I'll have what she's having." When Ahsoka opens her mouth to protest, the woman says, "It's on me." She adjusts the goggles that are pushed up on her forehead and flashes Ahsoka a roguish smile. "I'm Aphra."
"Riyo," Ahsoka says, returning the smile. This isn't her contact and the Force isn't sending her any sort of warning, but she knows better than to give a stranger her real name; the bounty on her might have been lifted (it's possible Vader thinks she died on Malachor), but that doesn't mean someone wouldn't try to claim it if they could.
Aphra gives her a lingering once-over, her appreciation of what she sees visible in her eyes. "Okay." She raises her glass and downs the two fingers of whiskey like a shot. Her lips glisten with it. "That whiskey's not gonna drink itself."
Ahsoka laughs and drinks. The whiskey burns a path down her throat and she lets it heat her up. She loses track after the third drink, reaching out to the Force just enough to stay in that warm, bubbly place without ever tipping over into sloppiness or sulking. She's never been a maudlin drunk; that was always Obi-Wan. And it's been so long since she'd had the opportunity to meet someone without it being a mission or an obligation.
At some point, Aphra slips off her barstool to stand between Ahsoka's knees, her hands sliding up Ahsoka's thighs. Ashoka leans in and kisses her, licking the earthy, acrid taste of whiskey off her lips. She slips her fingers into the belt loops on Aphra's trousers and pulls her closer. Aphra's hands move to Ahsoka's waist, and then she runs the backs of her fingers up Ahsoka's lekku. Ashoka shivers and gasps, leaning into the touches, the kisses, the heat and softness of Aphra's body.
"I've got a room nearby," Aphra whispers.
"Let's go."
Ashoka doesn't remember much about how they got to the motel; it's a quick stumble from the bar, her clumsiness due more to not wanting to let Aphra go than the alcohol. The room is small and dingy, but it smells clean, and she doesn't sense any danger.
Aphra tugs her towards the bed and there's a couple of awkward moments when Aphra has to stop to unbuckle her boots before she can get her pants off, but Ahsoka doesn't care. She wants to kiss and touch all the smooth skin Aphra's revealing, and run her tongue down the dark line of hair on her belly to the curls between her legs, which beckon seductively.
Ahsoka's always been fascinated by hair.
They tumble down onto the bed, which creaks in protest at the weight, or maybe just the ferocity of their movement. They tussle a little and Ahsoka comes out on top with a feral smile. Aphra's dark hair fans out against the pillow and her mouth is red and swollen from their kisses.
Ahsoka licks the sweat from the hollow of her throat, the curve of her breast, before sucking a nipple into her mouth. Aphra lets out a low moan and arches into it, her hand coming up to cup the back of Ahsoka's head. She runs her fingers along Ahsoka's posterior lek and Ahsoka shudders.
She skims a hand down Aphra's body and then curls her fingers into the slick heat at the apex of her thighs.
Aphra pushes up into the touch and says, "Harder." She tangles her fingers with Ahsoka's and shows her how she likes to be touched. Ahsoka laughs, charmed by how well Aphra knows her own body and isn't afraid to ask for what she wants.
She loses herself to the sensations--the wet heat and textured skin of Aphra's cunt, the crisp curls tickling her wrist as she flexes it, the taste of salt of Aphra's sweat and the sounds Ahsoka's drawing from her. Those sighs and moans resonate down into Ahsoka's body, making her own cunt tighten in desire. Sex lets her exist purely in her body for long moments, the way combat used to, and she misses that, sometimes, the utter physicality of it singing with a rightness in the Force that rivals the deepest meditation she's ever managed. Sex is only a slightly less dangerous way of finding that.
Aphra comes with a guttural cry and the clamping of her body around Ahsoka's fingers. Ahsoka strokes her through it and then kisses her when she collapses back onto the pillows, spent.
Ahsoka's still revved up and aching, but she can take care of herself if Aphra's out for the night.
She's not, though. "Let me," she says with a wicked grin. She twists and shifts down the bed, putting her mouth exactly where Ahsoka needs it most. Then she swings a leg over Ahsoka's torso, inviting her to use her own mouth in the same way.
It's heady, distracting, all-encompassing. She can barely concentrated on the earthy, salty taste of Aphra's cunt while Aphra fucks her with her tongue. They move together like a powerful engine, and Ahsoka thinks she can feel the planet turning beneath her when she comes in a rush of pleasure and wetness that makes her whole body shake.
She plunges her fingers into Aphra's slick heat and crooks them in just the right way. Aphra lights up and comes again, shuddering above her.
Ahsoka lets herself sink into the blinding brightness of the Force at that moment, and feels better than she has in weeks.
*
A bedroom in a seedy motel on Taris
05:01 Imperial Standard Time
Ahsoka is still in that drowsy space between sleeping and waking, her body warm and languorous after a night of whiskey shots and orgasms, when the Force rings with warning.
She sits up and calls her lightsabers to her hands but her legs are still tangled with Aphra's in the sheets and she doesn't make it to her feet before the door explodes inward and Darth Vader stalks through it. He gives her a once-over that makes her stomach clench in humiliation, and then angles his mask away.
"Aphra," Vader booms, or maybe it's just the hangover that makes Ahsoka's montrals vibrate painfully, "when I said Lady Tano was to be taken alive, I didn't mean she was to be," there's a pause so minute that if Ahsoka hadn't known him for years, she wouldn't have caught it at all, "taken in any other sense of the word."
"She did her share of giving, too, boss," Aphra says, propped up on her elbow, chin cupped in her hand. Her hair is tousled but she's still neatly covered with the sheets, unlike Ahsoka, who crosses her arms over her bare chest, lightsabers still at the ready. She could fight naked, though she's never had to before, but she'd really prefer not to. "Very generous, and very good with her mouth."
Ahsoka hadn't thought her whole body could blush, but apparently it can. There's a tiny part of her brain that's mortified at being caught naked in bed with what is apparently the enemy, especially in front of her old master, but the rest of her brain is more afraid of dying than being lectured on her lack of vigilance, or possibly her loose morals. She can never tell with him anymore.
"Can I at least put some clothes on before you kill me?" she asks as flippantly as she can manage.
Vader makes an indecipherable noise that, under other circumstances, Ahsoka would say is a huff of exasperation, and gestures sharply. Her clothes jump from the floor to her lap. "Be quick about it."
She has to put her weapons down to pick up her clothes, but given that he hadn't killed her on sight, maybe she can still get out of this alive. Still, she sighs when he confiscates her lightsaber and shoto and tucks them somewhere beneath his cape. She pulls her tunic on and does up the straps, and then shimmies into her leggings as quickly as she can, calling on the Force to help her keep her balance. The last thing she needs is to sprawl flat on her face in front of him with her leggings around her knees. The morning's already been humiliating enough and the sun hasn't even risen yet.
"I don't suppose I could have a glass of water, maybe brush my teeth?" Her mouth tastes like something died in it.
The mask swings back her way. "Don't try me, Ahsoka."
"Yeah, yeah," she says, "you're going to kill me. I've heard it all before." She looks over her shoulder at where Aphra is getting dressed now. "Not like you to use a honey trap, though."
"That was not my intention." He glances over at Aphra, his displeasure plain even without the ability to see his face.
Ahsoka doesn't know if it's that his body language is still Anakin's under that horror of a suit or if some vestige of their old bond is sparking due to proximity, and she's not sure she wants to. She decides to chalk it up to the Force. Her head and her heart hurt too much to spend more time thinking about it.
"I was multitasking," Aphra protests. "I know you like things done efficiently."
He makes an irritated humming noise before turning to Ahsoka again. "It is not like you to fraternize with strange women you meet in cantinas."
Ahsoka has to laugh at that. "No," she says, "it's exactly like me, these days." She knows it'll get a rise out of him, and possibly end her life more quickly than either of them would like, but she can't resist saying, "Obi-Wan was kind of a terrible influence, now that I think about it."
The temperature in the room drops, but she doesn't get Force-choked, so he must need her for something.
"I could have told you that years ago," Vader says, and if Ahsoka didn't know better, she'd say there's some amusement lacing the bitterness of that statement. "Now come, we have an interrogation to attend."
"Well, excuse me if I'm in no rush to get there."
"If you prove useful, you may yet survive." He clamps one large hand on her shoulder and turns her towards the door. How unfair is it that now that she's as tall as Anakin was, he's almost a foot taller?
She takes a deep breath and focuses on the Force, letting it ease away her hangover and the lassitude with which she'd woken up. If he's not planning to kill her immediately, she might still get out of this alive. She narrows her eyes at Aphra and thinks the same can't necessarily be said of her.
"So quick to shift from amorous to murderous," Vader says, picking up on her mood if not her thoughts. "You would make a powerful Sith, Ahsoka."
"Thanks but no thanks, big guy." It's hard not to fall back into familiar rhythms in her discombobulated state. At least she doesn't quite let the old nickname slip. "I spent too long in that Sith temple to be interested in buying what you're selling."
"We shall see."
"Oh, we shall," Ahsoka replies, unwilling to let him have the last word.
"This is going to be fun," Aphra says, and Ahsoka has to take another deep breath so she doesn't lash out in frustration.
It's going to be a long kriffing day.
*
The Imperial Shuttle belonging to Darth Vader
05:33 Imperial Standard Time
With Vader's hand clamped on her shoulder, the walk to his shuttle is quick and inescapable.
"Leave us," he says to the squad of stormtroopers it contains, and glares at Aphra when she makes no move to follow them. "You too, Aphra."
"Are you sure, boss? I bet I could make her talk." Aphra contorts her features into an exaggerated leer.
"You have done enough." Vader's displeasure is palpable, but it seems to have no effect on Aphra.
"It's been nice knowing you," Aphra says with a rueful grin, throwing Ahsoka a sloppy salute before exiting.
Vader turns back to Ahsoka. "Now, let us discuss the whereabouts of your old friend, Saw Gerrera."
Ahsoka lets out a bark of laughter. "I haven't seen him in years."
"I do not believe that to be the case." Vader crosses his arms over his chest. "The Rebellion is planning something and he is involved."
"He might be, but I'm not." She doesn't try to keep the petulance out of her voice. Let him think she's disaffected as well as distrusted. She is a little surprised, though. Mon Mothma doesn't like Saw; she finds his methods too extreme, and she usually has the final say in joint missions, even over and above Bail and the military leaders.
"Nonsense. You are a known leader of a rebel faction and we have intel suggesting you have all begun to cooperate." He says it like it's a dirty word.
Ahsoka shrugs. "I don't know. Since our little adventure on Malachor," she flicks her fingers between them, "I've been kept out of anything more high-level than supply runs."
"That they choose to cast you aside like so much refuse is yet more proof of how foolish the rebels are. Much like the Jedi before them."
That was meant to hurt, but Ahsoka's made peace with what happened all those years ago. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before responding. "Operational security is paramount. I don't take it personally." Though if she survives, this capture will count as another strike against her; she can't think of anyone else who's defied Vader as often as she has and lived.
Vader hums skeptically. It's possible he still knows her well enough to know that that's not one hundred percent true. Of course, that should mean he also knows well enough to know that this strategy isn't going to work on her. Not now, anyway.
They stare at each other for a long moment. He prods at the edges of her shields but makes no attempt to force his way inside them. She wonders how long it will be until he does, and how well she'll hold up against the intrusion. She considers and discards various strategies to protect her secrets while still allowing him to see that she's telling the truth, at least about Saw Gerrera.
The silence stretches uncomfortably between them. The fact that he lets it go on so long is yet another mark of how changed he is from the man she knew.
Finally, Ahsoka huffs, irritated and impatient, and breaks the silence. "What is it you're really looking for?"
He turns the full force of his attention on her now. "Where is Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
She reels back in honest surprise and not a little pain from the way the deep bass of his voice vibrates through her at that volume.
"Obi-Wan's alive?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Ahsoka. You know his bounty exceeds only your own."
"I thought my bounty was lifted, since I died on Malachor and all." She doesn't have to see his face to know what expression he's making under that mask. There's something viscerally satisfying about it.
"It has since been reinstated."
"Well, shit. There go my plans to finally settle down and become a nerf-herder."
She never gets to hear his response to that since his comm crackles to life.
"Hey boss, we've got a bit of a situation out here," Aphra says, her words punctuated by the sound of blaster fire. "It seems like one of the troopers has gone rogue?"
Ahsoka can't help the burst of hope that flares inside her. Could it be?
Vader makes another one of those disgruntled noises and points at her. "Our conversation is not done."
"I think it is," she replies, reaching out with the Force and taking back her lightsabers. They smack reassuringly against the palms of her hands and then she gestures again and the hatch slides open. "Aphra was right," she says over her shoulder as she somersaults off the shuttle and into the docking bay. "This is kind of fun." She lands on one knee and stabs her lightsabers through the control panel, bringing the door down behind her. It won't hold him for long, but it should give her an extra few seconds' head start, which might be all she needs.
She scans the area for allies and exits and finds both. She could tell Rex apart in a squad of clones when they first met; it's easy enough to pick him out of a group of stormtroopers now as he ducks out from underneath the tail of the shuttle.
He flashes a detonator at her and then grabs her wrist and pulls her along with him, hopefully in the direction of a ship. Three steps into their run, he presses the button and the back half of Vader's shuttle goes up in flames. It's not enough to kill him--Ahsoka doesn't know what would be, these days--but it sets even more pandemonium in motion among his troops.
They run halfway across the spaceport and then Rex chivvies her into a beat up old freighter. She feels a small pang of disappointment that he didn't come with the Ghost crew, but she supposes they have their own problems.
She slides into the pilot seat and starts the ignition sequence while Rex scrambles down the ladder to man the guns.
It's not necessary to shoot their way out, though, with the stormtroopers still chasing them on foot and Vader's shuttle in disarray. The star destroyer in orbit above the planet doesn't scramble its fighters in time, and they make the jump to hyperspace as the first TIEs launch from its ports.
"You came," she says, once she can focus on something other than escape. Her hands are trembling and her stomach either wants to be fed or wants to crawl up the back of her throat--she's not quite sure which, yet.
She throws herself into his arms and he holds her, his hands gentle on her back and his body solid and warm against hers.
"Of course," Rex replies, as if there were never any doubt.
She pulls away reluctantly. "But--How did you know?"
"There were rumors that the Imperial presence around Taris was being stepped up."
"There were? I hadn't heard them."
Rex makes a face; he's always had sources of intel he's kept to himself, so she doesn't press. "And you needed backup." Rex rubs the back of his neck and glances away. "I, uh, might not be here, officially."
Ahsoka's eyes widen in surprise. "I don't want you to get into any trouble on my account."
"I've never betrayed my Jedi," he says, "and I know you haven't betrayed the Alliance, despite whatever other people might think." He settles back into the co-pilot's seat. "The Alliance needs you, Ahsoka, and they'd be stupid not to see it." His calm solidity belies the words he doesn't say, about how much he needs her, but that's okay. Ahsoka hears them, anyway, and needs him just as much. She curls her fingers around his hand to let him know.
"I can't be much help if I'm constantly in Vader's crosshairs," she answers, subdued now that the adrenaline has worn off.
Another thing Rex doesn't say--he doesn't have to, because they've had the argument frequently since she's been back--but the fact that Vader is so focused on her not only helps the Alliance sneak beneath his radar, but it proves how much of Anakin is still in there, beneath everything. She can't let herself believe that means anything, though, can't let herself dream about getting him back.
"Though I think I've been replaced as number one on his hit list," she says finally. "He was asking about Obi-Wan when you interrupted."
Rex looks as surprised as she was. "General Kenobi is alive?"
Ahsoka shrugs. "Vader seems to think so." She shakes her head. There will be time to puzzle that out. "Do you have a secure channel on this thing? Can I let Bail know my mission was a bust?"
"Of course." He punches in the encryption codes while Ahsoka takes a few deep breaths and centers herself, giving her anxiety and depression over to the Force.
As long as they're alive, there's hope, and she's always been good at staying alive.
*
I am speaking of living
of moving from one moment into
the next, and into the
one after
"Another Spring" - Denise Levertov
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