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In retrospect, she shouldn't have touched anything, even though the crystal hadn’t seemed (quite) as malevolent as the other artefacts she’d come across in the Temple. In any case, it’s done. It – whatever it is – is aware of her now, and glowing somewhat ominously.
What do you want, Jedi? It asks, voice ringing in her head.
Not a Jedi, she thinks. And nothing from you.
There is a burst of amusement at her defiance.
Tell me and it will be yours, it says.
"Right."
She tries to put it back, and finds that she can't quite move. What do you want? It asks again, louder. Repeats, over and over.
She shakes her head in a vain attempt to clear her thoughts. Her fingers still won’t loosen around the crystal, and it occurs to her that she may be in trouble.
She reaches for her lightsabers, but they clatter to the ground as she drops to one knee, overwhelmed by the sudden pressure in her skull. It leaves room for no other thought than the unrelenting query.
Don’t answer don’t answer don’t ans—
What does she want?
To save Anakin.
The victory of the Rebellion.
To see the Emperor dead.
No. It sounds irritated, now. What do you want?
She’s cold, and tired, and she can feel it roaming around in her brain, looking at every thought, every memory.
She wants –
“I want to go home,” she hears herself whisper, only dimly aware of her lips forming the words.
The world goes red.
The disorientation lasts only a moment and as soon as she’s regained her bearings she knows where she is.
Her old room. The living quarters at the Jedi Temple.
It’s a good illusion, she thinks at first. Except it can't be. The Force feels right here, in a way it hasn’t in decades. It's clouded by the war, by the Siths’ deception, yes, but filled with such light, too.
It feels like –
Home.
And that means –
The door flies open.
“Ahsoka? What’s going – who the fuck are you?”
Anakin, staring at her with wide blue eyes, a hand on his lightsaber.
Blue.
“Anakin.”
She can feel his confusion and alarm in the Force. She’d half-forgotten just how bright his presence was, untainted – no, not untainted, she can feel a storm at the edges, in a way she never could’ve back then. But still good, and loving, and nothing like the twisted husk she’d faced in the Temple. This, this is Anakin Skywalker as he should be.
He’s not exactly happy with her at the moment, but the swirling feelings are so unmistakably his that she can’t help taking the three steps that separate them and pulling him into a tight hug. He makes a startled noise of protest but doesn’t struggle.
They’re roughly the same height, she realises. The armoured monster had been much taller, and when she’d been his apprentice he’d always towered over her.
“Ahsoka?! But you’re –” He cuts himself off, apparently too baffled for words.
He seems to have decided she’s not a threat, at least, because he raises an arm to pat her back, somewhat awkwardly. She clutches him tighter, and tries not to sob like a lost youngling.
Obi-Wan chooses that moment to make an entrance, undoubtedly drawn by the feelings Anakin is broadcasting, or the disturbance her appearance must’ve caused. She’s surprised they’re not being swarmed by Jedi, actually. This kind of – time travel? – can’t have gone unnoticed by the masters.
“Is everything alright with you two?” He sees her and pauses. “Oh.”
She realises she should let go of Anakin, but can’t quite bring herself to. Just a little while longer, she thinks. She can have this, at least.
“I have no idea what’s going on” Anakin says, gesturing as best he can with her clinging to his neck. Perhaps she should explain.
“I do,” she says, twisting around to face Obi-Wan. “But it’s a very long story.”
Seeing him is a different kind of shock. He’s no different from what she remembers him being like the last time they met, all those years ago. Before his death – because he must be dead, he would not have turned, would not have let Vader go free. She hopes he never knew what became of Anakin. It would’ve destroyed him.
She wants, suddenly, to tell him everything. Obi-Wan always knew what to do, when she was younger. Always had a word of encouragement, a bit of wisdom to share – except during her trial. But that hasn’t happened yet, has it? Anakin expected to find her in her quarters.
Looking at Obi-Wan now, she realises he seems tired. Would he even believe her? He’s always had faith in Anakin, in the Order, in the Force.
She takes a deep breath. The Obi-Wan she knew may be gone, but this one is still looking at her suspiciously and, against her, Anakin is growing impatient.
“Try us. And are you ever letting go?”
“Not if I can help it,” she says with feeling. “I’m from the future, I think.”
Obi-Wan sighs audibly but does not otherwise protest. Have they been to Mortis by this point? It might explain the relatively easy acceptance.
“…How?”
“Some kind of Sith artefact. I didn’t mean to use it. It called to me. If there are any – side-effects, I’ve yet to notice them.”
“How did you come across that sort of thing?”
“Visiting a Sith Temple. It turned out to be a bad idea for many reasons, but ‘know thy enemy’ and all that.”
“What about our Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan asks, brow furrowed in concern. He’s experienced Sith traps himself, she remembers.
“I don’t know. Was she here?”
Ahsoka can only hope she hasn’t been sent there, to that awful place. Her blood runs cold at the thought. But surely she’d have remembered this happening to her?
“She’s supposed to be studying in the archives – I just figured she’d come back earlier,” Anakin chimes in.
“I’ll comm her,” Obi-Wan says, and they breathe in collective relief when she answers.
It’s – odd, hearing the younger version of herself speaking, sounding puzzled when she’s asked to come back from her assignment immediately.
“So, the future,” Anakin prompts. He’s given up on trying to extract himself from her arms, apparently resigned to his fate for the moment, but is clearly uncomfortable with Obi-Wan being a witness to it – because this is very definitely attachment.
It doesn’t matter. She’s left the Order’s rules behind long ago. Besides, Obi-Wan, under the eternal impassive façade, seems too wary to be thinking about propriety at the moment.
Anakin’s worry is, perhaps, unjustified, but she can’t help wondering how much he’d been holding back, during the war. She’d known some of it, of course. Partly because she’d been the same: too caring, too angry, too passionate. But he’d been her Master, and for all that she’d questioned him every chance she got, she’d always admired him, and trusted him above everyone else.
She wonders now how afraid he’d been, all this time. How much those fears had contributed to his fall. She feels none of it in him now, only curiosity and cautious enthusiasm at the thought of insight into the future. That, and boundless youthful energy.
She has about ten years on him, she realises with a jolt.
She’d always been aware, back then, that he wasn’t much older than she was. But she’d also thought it was fine to be battle-hardened at sixteen.
They’d been so young.
“I love you,” she says into his shoulder.
“What?”
He manages to sound both utterly outraged and bewildered. She laughs, pulls back a little without letting go.
“Not like that. I just – no matter what happens, remember that. You too, Obi-Wan”
She can feel them exchange uneasy glances over her head. Eventually Obi-Wan clears his throat.
“Given your reaction to Anakin, I can only assume unpleasant things have happened between this time and yours.”
She flinches. Unpleasant.
“Yes. Yes, you could say that.”
The unease grows, and she knows they’re debating the value of asking her about it as opposed to the potential consequences of doing so, when her younger self appears in the doorway and breaks the tension.
“What’s going on? Are we being deployed somewhere?”
She freezes as she takes in the scene.
“I—"
Anakin, somewhat recovered from his own shock, cracks a smile.
“Good of you to join us, Snips. We’re having a bit of a situation.”
“Um. The Force is telling me that she’s – uh, me. But that has to be wrong? Right?”
“Not that we know of.”
“Okay, that’s – okay. Is… she alright?”
Ahsoka realises that it can't look good, the way she's clinging to her former master. Hugs are a life-or-death situation kind of thing, and even then only the really awful ones.
“I am, thank you.”
She forces herself to let go of Anakin, to take a step back -- though not so far that he's out of reach, she's not quite ready for that yet -- and looks at her counterpart.
“Hello, Ahsoka.”
“Right back at you, I guess.”
The younger version of her is still looking at her with understandable distrust. Ahsoka remembers the vision on Mortis, the one who’d warned her about Anakin. She expects questions, of course, but the one that comes blindsides her:
“Did you let something happen to him?” she asks, eyes going between her older self and her master.
It’s like a punch to the gut, and Ahsoka closes her eyes for a second. Yes, she wants to say, even though she doesn’t know what went wrong.
“Snips! Uh – don’t answer that.”
“But if she doesn’t tell us what happens, how can we stop it?”
It's odd, seeing herself being arguing with her master. She's missed it.
“What if we stop it -- if anything happens, we don't know that -- and it causes something worse? This is dangerous, we can’t just decide to mess with that sort of thing.”
“We could be careful about it. It has to be better than doing nothing.”
The younger Ahsoka crosses her arms, stands her ground. She’s seen a lot of things, by then, but not nearly as much as she thinks she has.
This is an Ahsoka who believes in the Order, in her master, in the Republic. Who believes that the war will be over, one day, that the Grand Army will prevail and that life will go back to normal.
She has no idea that the Order will cast her aside without a second thought, and that things will go downhill from there.
The two of them are both the same and worlds apart.
And yet – maybe the younger Ahsoka’s right.
She thinks of all the things she could prevent, being here. The rise of the Empire, for one.
She could denounce Palpatine as a Sith Lord.
Warn the Council about Order 66 and save the Jedi – and oh, the clones.
Stop Anakin’s Fall, however it came about.
Force, even Barriss might not be too far gone at this point in time, might still be reasoned with.
Her younger self might never have to live through any of those events. And yet, what untold horrors could she bring about by meddling with the timeline?
It takes her breath away, the weight that has been put on her shoulders. Whether she acts or not, she will have to live with the consequences. And that, she supposes, must've been the cost of her wish.
She looks at the other three, who are still debating, and thinks.
She’s been careful for so long, helping the Rebellion from the shadows, planning her every move, and accomplished very little. It may be time for a change in strategy. Sometimes, her master’s taught her, you just have to wing it and hope for the best.
No Jedi worth the name would carelessly affect the timeline because of an opportunity given by the whims of an ancient Sith artefact.
But… She’s no Jedi.
She can hardly make things worse than they were, can she?
She breathes, and takes a leap of faith:
“Masters," she starts, "there are many things I have to tell you.”