thisavrou_log | [closed;] damn your love, damn your lies

[The information Ahsoka learned over her first few days on the Moira was...

Overwhelming didn't seem to cover it. She wasn't sure what to make of what she learned from Luke and Leia, but she knew it was the truth, all the same. She could tell they weren't lying, she just knew. The Force was good like that.

Still, it was a lot, and she couldn't help but notice that Anakin completely left it all out when she first talked to him. She had even asked what she was missing.

So, either he didn't know, or he left it out on purpose. And she was pretty sure it was the second option. Not that she could completely blame him, it was a lot. And she wasn't sure she would have believed him, even if he had told her. Which is why she didn't press him about it immediately. She was still trying to make sense of it, on top of everything else, after all.

Naturally, when she's actually ready to talk to him, finding him was a struggle in itself. After some searching, since he wouldn't answer his messages on his MID, she finally found him in the arcade.]

You're a hard one to find, Skyguy. [totally pulling out the name calling, since she had to work so hard to actually find him.]

All you had to do was ask, Snips.

[Oh, two can play at this game, and it's one they're both well acquainted with. Not that he's been terribly helpful in the asking scenario and hasn't actually checked, but that's a small matter when everything seems to have worked out just fine.

It's as close to an apology as he's giving as present, and it's nowhere near one.

He thinks then to explain the absence, how he'd meant to let her get acclimated on her own, and somehow that falls short when he turns to regard her and is faced with that telling annoyance. (Or was this confusion?)]

...What happened this time?

[Anymore, it's the only thing left to ask.]

I did. Multiple times. [Casually points at his MID that he's obviously neglected to check.

Is it a good thing or a bad thing that he can spot that annoyance so easily now? Either way, she's glad she doesn't have to outright say it. She has a lot on her mind, and getting to the point is the quickest way to get some answers.]

You forgot to tell me about Luke and Leia.

No, I--

[It takes a moment for the accusation to process before it really clicks, what she's saying. He blanks for moment after, eyes glazed and unfocused, and then suddenly he's awake and oh, sith take it.

He clears his throat, trying to keep the upper hand he doesn't have; his game has wound to a close as he throws the final ball and misses entirely, and he turns back, trying (and failing) to curb the regret in his glance that moves to Ahsoka and away and back again.]

It...didn't come up?

Right. And how was I supposed to know to ask about things that happen in the future? [Because children? Yeah, that totally crossed her mind. And anyway, he had to know she'd run into them. It didn't exactly take her long.

But that begs another question: what else was he not telling her? What else had he learned since he had been here that he hadn't shared yet?]

So what else did you not tell me? Because that's not all, is it? [She doesn't mean to sound a little put out, but she was. She's not mad, not really, because she's sure he has his reasons. But she doesn't like to be lied to, or spared for her feelings. She'd rather have the truth outfront.]

I haven't made a habit of pointing it out to anyone, Ahsoka. You know why. It slipped, I'm sorry.

[He does at least look marginally regretful. He knows that she knows about his numerous and continued fights with the Order about his shameful need for attachment that he's never been able to shake. He knows that she knows because she also feels it. That Obi-Wan is aware of it in them both. It was meant to be a test, he knows that too; Master Yoda was never half as subtle as he thought he was when he wasn't giving backward non-advice. And he knows that she knows that he knows that it's a test they've both failed. Himself moreso than she ever will.

That part, she doesn't know.

He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, trying to look anywhere but at her, and mutters:]

No, that's not everything. [A sharp inhale as his eyes slide closed: we were supposed to fix this.] But you're really not going to like it.

I know, it just. Would've been nice to have a heads up. [And as shocking as it was, it still wasn't that surprising. She knew Anakin struggled with attachments. It doesn't take her long to recount multiple times where Anakin blatantly clung to the people he cared about. But she struggled too, and she knows she's just as guilty as failing as he is.

His avoidance bothers her. If he's trying to convince her not to press this, he's really not doing a good job.]

Maybe not. But whatever it is, I can handle it. [The more vague he was, the more she felt like she really needed to know this.]

[He wants to quip back that he hadn't gotten a heads up either, but that seems so small and unnecessarily argumentative. Not here. Not with her. Be the adult, Skywalker.

He swallows thickly, and shuts his eyes for a moment, trying (mostly in vain) to shut out the din of noise around them. This is a poor place for this discussion, but then...this discussion is going to be a poor one to have, no matter where they are.

How do you soften any of this?]

I don't know where to--what's the last thing you remember? Before this.

[Everything about his body language bothers her. She's watching him carefully, trying to pick up hints to what must be so bad that he wants to avoid telling her so much. But she has no idea, and it puts her on edge. Her wanting to know doesn't change, but it certainly makes her more concerned about what she's about to hear.]

We just arrested Letta for the bombing at the Jedi Temple.

[There's an audible sigh that follows. She knows just enough and not enough all at once, and damn whoever decided he should have to carry the whole of this knowledge on himself.

Damn it happening in the first place. If the Council wants faith, they have to give it in kind, and it's been in such short supply...but that's neither here nor there anymore, not with no Council to uphold this decision or deny it.

But the prospect of speaking it is almost as bad as making the decision--something he'd wanted to protest since it had been given.

Family. Ridiculous. That's not how you treat family.]

Letta's killed, Ahsoka. I'm sorry.

[That it ever happened. That he has to say this. That she has to live this twice. He has to pause to find his voice again. His courage. He fixes his gaze firmly to the floor; her disappointment is going to undo him otherwise.]

You--end up framed for it.

[She didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't that.]

-- What? But I wouldn't-- I would never--

["Framed for it". So he knows she didn't do it. But the fact that he says that also implies that someone believed she did.]

But I'm cleared, right? You and the Council-- you find out who really did it. Right?

[She knows without a doubt he would find the real answer, because that's what Anakin always did. He did everything in his power to help his friends. And honestly, she has no reason to think the Council wouldn't either. That's what they were supposed to do, they were supposed to protect their own, because they were family. So why would she think otherwise?]

I know.

[The insistence is tired, but hard-pressed, his eyes dragging up from the ground, burning with intensity where his voice doesn't. He hadn't ever believed anything but. She has always been one of the best of them--even if he's never said as much--and they failed her.

There's another pause, but he can't force his gaze to shift away again, not when she deserves to hear this, no matter how much he doesn't want to say it.]

I would never leave you to deal with that alone, Ahsoka. Ever.

[It's what he doesn't say immediately that's so damning, and he knows it.]

The Council...didn't agree.

[And never seems to anymore, when it matters. Would that he could do it again, he'd take Yoda to task, and then...well, and then what? Leave with her when it was all done?]

[The news hits her like a punch to her chest. It's one thing to learn you were framed for a murder, but she knew Anakin would believe her. And she was so sure that the Council would too, so him telling her otherwise? It doesn't compute.]

No-- No, they would believe me-- they wouldn't actually think I would--

[No, no no no no--]

But Master Yoda-- Master Plo-- Master Obi-Wan-- they know me-- [how could this happen? How could they not believe her, she was one of them.]

You don't think I tried to reason with them?

[Granted, more often than not, his idea of reason rarely syncs with that of the Council, but there hadn't been a choice. If he'd been there, with them, on it even...]

You know how different Obi-Wan is when he's with them.

[There's still a piece of him, smaller now after so many months away, that seethes at the idea of that apathetically accepted complacency. The sycophantism that the Council seemed to inspire still rankles, and to think Obi-Wan had once been part of that without even beginning to think something was wrong?

But he's only a piece here when the whole problem, the real problem, is the Jedi Council's misled and misguided ivory tower.

Anakin sighs. There isn't any sense to be found in their once hard line, and he can't blame Ahsoka for her shock. He'd been just as angry. She was...is still his Padawan. If they had once been so willing to cut the cord with their brightest, what did that say for him? His training? Their trust?]

They didn't take the time to ask. Following your... expulsion, I went looking for the truth. No one else seemed all that interested in it. It's beneath us to look for a scapegoat, but "politics."

[It's already been hard to look back at the last three years in hindsight and not comes away with little but bitterness, but this decision above all else leaves an acrid taste in the back of his throat.]

I wish I could that it back, Ahsoka. Lie about it. Change it. They tried to offer you the same thing. A place back, like they hadn't made a mistake.

Edited 2016-07-26 18:52 (UTC)

[So rather than stand behind one of their own, they turned her over for a crime she didn't commit? They ignored her pleas, content to let a Padawan rot even though she insisted she had no part it in? For what? Politics? To please the Chancellor? Just so the Republic would stop breathing down their necks?

She knew the Order had changed throughout the coarse of the war. The Jedi were supposed to be about peace, but so often they got wrapped up in the politics, in the violence, that the real peace didn't seem to matter as much anymore. And this was another example of just that.

Anger didn't seem to cover how she felt. Anger wasn't a feeling befitting of a Jedi, but at the moment, she honestly didn't care. How could she sit there and try to follow their teachings when they wouldn't follow them to protect her?

She felt betrayed, not even just by the Council, but by her very way of life. The Jedi Order was more than just her home, it was her life-- it was who she was. And it all turned it's back on her.]

I didn't accept it, did I? I walked away. [He doesn't have to tell her for her to know her choice. The hurt and betrayal she feels just by him telling her was bad enough. But living it out? How could they honestly expect her to come crawling back after treating her like that?]

No, you didn't accept it.

[And yes, you left. Me. The thought still hurts, even with her here in front of him. Their hurts mingle together until he's not sure if its her sense of betrayal he feels, or the one he'd imagined all those months ago.

...But she's here. Which is more than he can say for anyone else in the Order. And she's had as little choice in this that he ever has, and even less knowledge of it. Can he honestly hold that against her?]

...I'm not sure I would have either.

[She knew it. She didn't have to live it to know how she felt, and it sucked. And she's not sure who seems more disappointed, her or him.]

...I'm sorry, Ma-- Anakin. [she starts to say Master, but it feels almost wrong, in a sense. He's still her Master, definitely, but she feels a disconnection to that at the moment. And who could blame her?]

Thank you. For being honest with me. [She feels terrible now, but she did ask for it, did she not? But she would rather know, then have it kept secret from her.]

You don't need to be sorry, this isn't your fault.

[He used to hold her up to it: to leaving. Used to worry if this disappointment he felt was reasonable, and whether it was with her or the Order itself, but in all the things he's learned, the scant details that don't quite fit, he knows enough.

The Order started this, and the Order failed. (And has been making a habit of it, lately.) He doesn't like the idea that Barriss might have had a point--she certainly hadn't gone about it right way--but...there is something to be said for the mishandling of this entire war they shouldn't even be a part of.]

So, what now?

[It feels like a question he should be answering, not asking.]

I still left you. [She knows how much of a struggle that had to be for him. How hard it had to be for her. Keeping attachments was something both of them struggled with, so breaking a bond like theirs had to have left a mark on them both.

At his question, she hesitated. What now? She didn't even know how to answer that, how she even felt. This was all so fresh, she didn't know what to think, what to do.]

Honestly, I-- I don't know. I need some time... to think about everything.

[Despite knowing that it's coming, despite knowing he'd ask (not near as nicely) the same thing in her place, it's like a knife shoved into his side and twisted. The expression that follows, a bitten back grimace that does little to hide the conflict under it, makes that pain plain.

And yet, all he can do is simply...nod. He can't demand she stay, can't offer a distraction (especially when he's not feeling it anymore either), can't do anything but offer platitudes on platitudes, and he's never been one for grovelling.

"I need some time" is still better than anything that starts with "I'm sorry." He remembers, plainly, her walking away the first (and hopefully only) time. That decision had been clear. Necessary. This is infinitely more complicated.]

Of course. [It doesn't sound certain at all.]

[closed;] damn your love, damn your lies

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