#threads tag.

     3:00 am , the clock on the Batcomputer read. Damian sat in the chair facing the monitor, carefully monitoring the locations and activities of each member of his family while listening for signs of trouble through the earpiece he wore–a Blackgate break-out was an all-hands-on-deck situation.       All hands except for Damian, of course, who had been suited up and prepared to fight until his father barked a firm order to stay in the cave because to his – not even that badly, might he add – broken ankle. Five long hours of hearing the impact of fists on flesh, rapid-fire gunshots: the inglorious sounds of combat. He despised watching and listening to the fighting, unable to do anything but stare helplessly and shout out orders for backup over the comms, hoping that one of the many vigilantes at work would make it on time. It was grueling. Damian had not moved once from his spot, staring with rapt attention as his gut twisted with anxiety.

     There was a mechanical hum, a ringing sharp and irritating – Damian explained it away in his mind as a sleep-deprived hallucination until it suddenly came to a piercing crescendo that sounded like it was emanating from somewhere in the Cave, some hundred-or-so feet away from where he sat. Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the glaring monitors, armed himself with a throwing knife, and took cautious steps towards the strange noise. Just as he finished his approach, between one blink and another the noise stopped, leaving silence in its wake.

     And a boy. A boy in a cape, bearing a familiar insignia on the right side of his chest – not Grayson’s old colors, or Drake’s, or Todd’s, or even Brown’s, but still distinctly Robin. An imposter, then. How had he gotten into the Cave? Teleportation? Damian supposed that stranger things had happened. He gripped the throwing knife with white knuckles and spoke with undisguised venom:

     Damian stormed his way from the car, putting distance between himself and Drake – and how irritating that the Batmobile’s doors automatically opened upwards instead of outwards, depriving him of even the satisfaction of slamming one as he escaped its confines – as he threw up his hands in utter irritation.

sabers  move  in  a  flurry  of  white  light,  deflecting  the  hail  of  blaster-fire  that  descends  upon  ahsoka  and  kaeden.  several  stormtroopers  are  struck  by  the  returning  fire  as  ahsoka  ducks  behind  a  bulkhead  alongside  kaeden.  ❝  come  on,  ❞  voice  takes  on  a  teasing  tone.  ❝  it’s  not  an  entire  base,  it’s  more  like  .  .  .  half  an  entire  base!  ❞  

despite  her  levity,  ahsoka  understands  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  especially  with  kaeden’s  safety  at  stake.  as  one  of  the  rebellion’s  best  doctors,  her  work  has  saved  not  only  ahsoka’s  life,  but  the  lives  of  countless  soldiers.  kaeden  larte  is  important  to  the  rebellion  —  and  to  ahsoka  herself.  

this  assignment  had  seemed  straightforward  during  her  debriefing  :  an  infiltration  mission  taking  her  and  one  chosen  ally  to  the  heart  of  a  nevarro  imperial  base.  over  serval  weeks,  ahsoka  accumulated  intelligence  indicating  that  imperial  forces  were  planning  an  assault  on  the  dantooine  rebel  base,  the  exact  specifics  of  which  could  be  found  on  a  datastick  imperial  admirals  used  to  transfer  battle  plans  between  star  destroyers.  it  hadn’t  been  easy  to  retrieve,  but  .  .  .  

i  am  one  with  the  force,  the  force  is  with  me.    

all  ahsoka  can  see  is  the  glaring,  cold  light  above  her.  senses  fade  and  return  :  light  is  drowned  in  darkness  only  to  resurface  moments  later.  throat  too  dry  to  speak  above  a  whisper,  the  effort  too  great  for  her  tired  body.  ears  catch  pieces  of  sentences,  a  familiar  voice, 

❝  …not  one  with  the  force,  ahsoka  tano!  ❞

above  all,  a  throbbing  pain  in  her  ribcage.  her  sense  of  touch  returns,  and  ahsoka  can  feel  warm,  sticky  blood  on  her  hands.  the  memory  of  how  she  received  the  wound  comes  to  her  slowly,  muddled  by  pain  &  waning  consciousness.  the  inquisitors  defeated  on  malachor  were  quickly  replaced.  in  their  stead,  two  new  inquisitors  had  taken  the  mantle  as  vader’s  executioners.  ahsoka  confronted  them  on  vrogas  vas,  among  the  ruins  of  a  jedi  temple.  their  unsheathed  blades  glowed  crimson  like  lightsabers,  imbued  with  the  force’s  power.  but  when  they  pierced  skin,  the  swords  left  wounds  uncauterized.  ahsoka  rapidly  traded  blows  with  each  inquisitor,  though  skill  alone  could  not  shield  her  from  every  strike.  one  inquisitor  was  felled  by  his  own  destruction  :  when  ahsoka  evaded  an  attack,  the  blade  instead  struck  an  enormous  stone  pillar,  which  collapsed  upon  him.  the  other  inquisitors  had  soon  retreated.  left  alone  with  her  wounds,  ahsoka  could  do  little  to  stem  the  bleeding. 

i  am  one  with  the  force,  the  force  is  with  me. 

blue  eyes  close.  so  many  jedi  had  fallen  during  the  clone  wars,  and  even  more  perished  with  the  rise  of  the  empire.  many  accepted  their  fate  calmly,  peacefully.  they  spoke  of  becoming  one  with  the  force  in  the  jedi  code  :  there  is  no  death,  there  is  the  force.  to  vanish,  to  disappear,  to  slip  away  peacefully  into  the  afterlife  —  that  is  a  jedi’s  way. 

i  am  one  with  the  force,  the  force  is  with  me.  

all  ahsoka  has  ever  been  is  a  solider.  if  it  is  the  will  of  the  force,  she  will  die  with  acceptance,  as  all  jedi  did. but  she  won’t  go  down  without  a  fight.  in  the  silent  darkness  behind  her  eyelids,  ahsoka  takes  in  a  slow  breath.  thoughts  drift  to  the  temple  on  courscant,  her  days  spent  sitting  cross-legged,  struggling  to  center  her  mind.  though  her  extremities  are  numb  &  heavy,  ahsoka  feels  the  living  force  around  her.  the  air  almost  hums  with  its  presence.  i’m  not  done  fighting  yet,  she  tells  it.  it’s  going  to  take  more  than  that  to  finish  me  off. 

i  am  one  with  the  force,  the  force  is  with— 

ahsoka  is  jostled  from  her  thoughts  when  a  hand  touches  her  cheek.  her  eyes  open  blearily,  gaze  struggles  to  focus  on  the  face  in  front  of  her.    mouth  opens,  lips  form  the  name,  yet  her  voice  fails.  kaeden? 

❝   you’re  not  done  yet.  this  isn’t  the  end  of  your  story.  you  don’t  get  to  bow  out  on  me  again,  not  like  this! ❞

it’s not uncommon for Billy to be throwing a tantrum of sorts. they hadn’t quite created the bond yet that would come later, after months of therapy, so it was understandable that he lashed out in frustration and anxiety. his chest is heaving, very nearly whimpering with each exhale as he chokes back tears and the bile on his tongue; a threat of shouting at her once more, as he had a few times, and she took it in stride each time. he was acting out like a child would when being told no. “Fuck you. Don’t push me!”