“The galaxy is a big place,” Bail Organa had said to them. “There are places we’ll never go to, planets whose names we’ll never hear. But there are also people who we’ll never meet, who are fighting for the exact same things as we are. If we’re fortunate, we’ll find them. If not, we’ll never know they exist.”
It was during a meeting with rebellion ‘leaders’ — a loose term given to whoever was available to spread news — in which Bail Organa said those words. And yet, hours later, Ahsoka still heard them echoing.
Starlight squirmed its way through a window on the Tantive IV, tumbling out over Ahsoka’s bed. It wasn’t that bright, but enough so to keep Ahsoka awake had she been trying to sleep. She wasn’t though, so she turned on her side to keep it from tickling her eyelids.
The galaxy was gargantuan. It was easy, as she’d found out after the purge, to disappear from everyone and everything she’d ever known. But that meant other people could disappear too. Even the people she wanted to remember.
“Will I ever see you again?” she asked no one in particular. While the room was empty besides her, in her mind was her image of peace. It was of a girl standing in a field with grass growing up past her knees. She wore a white shirt with a green, sleeveless jacket. Her brown hair was braided into a messy bun on the top of her head, framed by a yellow head scarf tied at her forehead. Dirt freckled her cheeks, but it was obvious she didn’t care. She stood facing the noon sun, painting her skin a light shade of caramel.
And when Kaeden turned to face her, a smile lit up her face.
It was a portrait Ahsoka couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried. She didn’t want to forget. It had been forged into her early on that thoughts like these were bad. They led to attachment, which led to evil. But how could anything to do with Kaeden be evil. When she smiled like that, there seemed to be no evil in the entire universe.
Ahsoka turned over on herself again so that she now faced the window and the many stars it framed. Kaeden was probably somewhere among them. Ahsoka wondered if Kaeden had thoughts like hers. She wondered if Kaeden thought of her at all. Perhaps the memory meant more to her.
In Ahsoka’s mind, Kaeden’s smile was brighter than the stars outside.
She was suddenly on her feet and heading to Bail Organa’s office. ‘Maybe this is why attachment was forbidden,’ she thought. But in a galaxy so big, with so much to be afraid of, her greatest fear was never seeing Kaeden again. And never seeing her smile. All reservations evaporated as she walked through Bail’s door.
He was at his desk, the same seat in which she had sat six months ago when she’d surprised him. That was the last time she’d been with Kaeden too. Before Raada burned, and before its survivors were sent off into the galaxy. Kaeden was like her in many ways, Ahsoka realized. Neither of them had homes any longer.
Perhaps Ahsoka was Kaeden’s home, like Kaeden was Ahsoka’s.
Bail glanced up from a holo, evidently surprised. He cleared his throat and confidence steeled itself into his jaw: a politician’s mask. His brow relaxed a little when he realized who stood in his doorway. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.
“Where were the people of Raada sent?” questioned Ahsoka, dodging the pleasantries. It had already been six months, and each second longer was one more step further away Kaeden could have taken. “The ones who survived.”
Bail raised his eyebrow. Gears were ticking in his eyes, and if he weren’t so dear a friend, Ahsoka may have been worried at what he schemed. “They were sent all over. Was there anyone in particular whose location you wanted?”
Ahsoka thought she saw his lips forming a grin, but when she blinked it was gone. “Kaeden and Miara Larte. I want to know their last known location.”
He focused back on the holo, searching through its contents. Ahsoka didn’t understand why, but her heart pounded. If they were gone, then all Ahsoka could do was live with the memories. Her image of peace, her sanctuary from the galaxy’s innate sadness, would be torn to pieces.
Bail talked while he sought their locations. “Any reason why?” Ahsoka’s lack of response was answer enough. Bail spoke quieter next time, but Ahsoka still heard. “For emotionless souls, you Jedi sure don’t hide your feelings well.”
“I'm no longer a Jedi,” Ahsoka reminded him loudly, ignoring her confession, “in case you’ve forgotten.”
Bail blinked. “Oh,” he murmured, “I wouldn’t forget something like that.” He stopped typing for a second to let his eyes fall. A story was playing in his mind. It was probably Barriss’ trial. Ahsoka remembered it too. “We should’ve paid more attention.”
Regret was a horrible feeling, yet it surrounded them both. They did have a lot to regret, after all. Ahsoka especially. She didn’t want Kaeden to become one of those things. She didn’t want to wake up screaming in the middle of the night, asking herself what could have been. She did that too much already.
“Yes,” agreed Ahsoka,” but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing we can do now.”
“And that’s why we’re here,” Bail muttered before leaning back. He had their locations. Her location. “They’re on Alderaan. Exactly where we dropped them off.”
———
The trip to Alderaan was a blur. Her ship, a freighter she’d found in a scrap heap on Jakku, had enough room for her to stretch her legs, but she preferred to spend the time meditating. She did that often those days. It helped her find her center in a time when she didn’t truly know who she was.
Even in hyperspace, the image of Kaeden followed her. Whenever she closed her eyes, she envisioned a yellow head-scarf flapping in the wind. She knew it wasn’t truly meditating, but she didn’t mind letting Kaeden take up her every thought.
She drifted into sleep at one point, and Kaeden managed to appear in her dreams. It was just after they had escaped Raada. Kaeden embraced Ahsoka aboard the Tantive IV and she never let go. Her arm was wrapped around Ahsoka for hours after that. When she woke, Ahsoka expected her to be there still, and she nearly fell off her seat in an attempt to lean her head against Kaeden.
In her final moments at the speed of the light, Ahsoka examined her lightsabers. She’d gotten them on Raada, both made of spare parts and purified kyber crystals. She did miss her old ones too, her master’s last gift to her, but they were long lost to the galaxy. She would likely never see them again; the finality of never was haunting.
Perhaps that last realization was why she thought of Kaeden so much only then.
———
Alderaan was a beautiful planet, but its people were just like those from any other. The streets were crowded as waves of workers walked to and fro. On her way to the address Bail had given her, three people bumped into Ahsoka even though she walked on the road’s edge. They didn’t make any rude remarks though; they were used to it. It was how they lived. They didn’t look up often either, Ahsoka noticed. The mountains that stretched into the sky were invisible to the people. If Kaeden truly was there, Ahsoka knew she, at least, would appreciate them.
It didn’t take long for Ahsoka to find the address. She stood before a small home, made of marble like everything else but dwarfed by the structures around it, that potentially housed the woman of whom she dreamt. Three steps lead to the doorway, letting Ahsoka escape the mob of people bustling every which way behind her. Her footsteps pattered against the stairs, in rhythm with her heartbeat, and when she knocked, it was like the whole galaxy shook.
She took a few steps back to give the doorway space, leaving her just one stair above the busy road.
“Coming!” someone shouted from inside, and in less than a second, the door opened. Standing in its place was Kaeden Larte, who was glancing back into her home’s depth. Something was occupying her attention, but she was occupying Ahsoka’s.
Ahsoka’s image of her wasn’t perfect. At least it wasn’t anymore. She wore clothes made of fancy fabric — only a white t-shirt and shorts — that would have been hard to get on Raada and harder to keep clean. Dirt no longer coated her face. Her hair was still kept in a messy bun, but was no longer held together by a head-scarf. Perhaps the biggest change wasn’t physical, because standing before Ahsoka was a woman, not a girl any longer, who had the air of someone in charge of their fate.
Once whatever was going on inside her home had been settled, Kaeden turned to face her. It was just like in Ahsoka’s memory, though this time Kaeden didn’t erupt into a beaming smile. “Oh,” she whispered. Her eyes widened in shock at first, then narrowed in confusion. “Wha-” she began, right as Ahsoka realized she could talk too.
“I should’ve commed,” Ahsoka murmured. She offered up her hands in explanation but dropped them when no words followed. “I’m sorry,” she started again. “I just wanted to see you.”
Kaeden blinked as the words settled in. She rubbed her forehead, and all of a sudden she looked exhausted. “It’s just…” she paused, “it’s been so long. I-I thought you were gone.”
“Six months isn’t that long,” mused Ahsoka, avoiding Kaeden’s implication that she too realized they might have never seen each other again.
“I know, I know,” Kaeden replied. A grin was coming to her lips, bringing back memories of early morning chats and late night games for Ahsoka. Those days were an eternity ago. “It just felt like it was.”
Ahsoka had never known that such a lively street could sound so quiet. But Kaeden seemed to be the only thing that existed. She gulped to make sure she was still breathing.
By that time, Kaeden was leaning against the door frame, propping herself up on her elbow. It was obvious she was trying to appear casual, but she was failing. It was like they were young again, when Kaeden would seek out Ahsoka at every possibility, when tragedy hadn’t yet stained both of their lives. But Ahsoka looked out of place too. She was blocking foot traffic after all, and her tattered cloak was a stain compared to typical Alderaan fashion.
She got out of the way by taking a step up, leaving her one stair below Kaeden. Their eyes met; Kaeden’s seemed to glow as the sun reflected down. The two were close enough that Ahsoka could see herself in Kaeden’s pupils. She hadn’t imagined them ever being that close to each other again.
“Well,” Kaeden said, still resting on the doorway, “now that you’re here, do you want me to show you around? Alderaan is a beautiful planet.”
She didn’t know what compelled her to do so — perhaps a strong gust of wind, or the force leading her — but Ahsoka took one more step forward. Her boots reverberated against the marble stair. The fronts of them brushed Kaeden’s sandals. Now they really were close. There was a slight upward tilt to Kaeden’s gaze, though her eyes were wide. Ahsoka felt Kaeden breathe against her face. Kaeden would’ve felt Ahsoka breathe too, though she wasn’t breathing at all.
“I’ll pass,” whispered Ahsoka, “I’ve got all I need to see right here.”
Kaeden’s perched elbow slipped from the door and she stumbled, somehow staying in place so as to not fall into Ahsoka and send them both cascading onto the street. Then she shot upwards, back straight, hands at her sides, eyes traversing Ahsoka’s face. Her own face was bright red.
“Oh,” she murmured. In one smooth motion, one smooth memory, her face transformed from shock into satisfaction. “Well, thanks.”
Ahsoka remembered too, and she covered her face in her hands. “I-”
Kaeden cut her off before she could say any more. “But you should know, that won’t be enough to woo me.” Her voice was oozing with playfulness, and she wore a sneering grin to match. “You’re not really my type.”
When her hands fell, Ahsoka tilted her head to the side. Her lips stretched into a confident smile. She crossed her arms, and despite the impulsive decisions and longing that had led her to Alderaan, she somehow felt at home. If Anakin was there, he would’ve realized just how correct he had been in calling her Snips.
“Oh I think I’ve already wooed you.” Unless time had altered more than she’d thought possible.
Upon hearing those words, Kaeden’s grin softened into something warmer. The edges of her lips, instead of turning upward in jagged points, rounded out. Her cheeks relaxed, and her eyes grew hazy. The sun reflected in them; to Ahsoka, they looked like gold.
It was just like her portrait of peace: Kaeden’s effortless smile staring at her like a long lost friend. Time had changed a lot — grass wasn’t tickling their ankles, dirt didn’t spot every surface, and they both seemed to have found a larger purpose — but it hadn’t changed Kaeden. She was still Ahsoka’s home, the person who made a big galaxy feel small.
“Unless your feelings have changed.” It was posed as a question, but she believed she already knew the answer.
Kaeden’s smile dropped, and her face grew into one of casual acceptance. To Ahsoka, she looked even more beautiful. “Honestly,” she admitted, “I don’t think they can. Or ever will.”
She didn’t know her plans for the future, but at that moment, Ahsoka didn’t mind being blissfully unaware. She merely wanted to stay with Kaeden, who gave her world color.
It seemed Kaeden had similar ideas; and when she led Ahsoka inside, their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, it was like no time had passed at all.