The Bad Batch - One shots

Embers - Part 1

Ahsoka fell into a hunched position, pressing herself as far out of sight as possible, which only made the pain in her leg amplify. What was a crackling fire suddenly became a roaring flame, stealing her breath away as she resisted the urge to grab at the injured limb, wishing she could just make it go numb.

The troopers would've spared her some trouble if they shot her leg clean off, but then again, it wouldn't be right for something nice to happen to her. Sometimes, she wondered if this was punishment for leaving the Order, and this shift in the galaxy would've never happened if she had put her selfish emotions aside. She knew the hypotheticals were crazy, but that didn't mean she stopped thinking about them.

Three wounds were visible- blaster grazes too close to be comfortable, scorching her leggings into melted threads and tearing through her skin like paper. She'd be lucky if her femur were still intact. She had to drag herself through every alleyway in this city to avoid being spotted. The amount of bacteria and pesticides that had taken up residence in her bloodstream could put the slums on Coruscant to shame.

She wondered what might kill her first: infection, or the troopers on her tail. It might be nice to die here, undisturbed in the small dumpster alley between an abandoned garage and barely operating convenience store. It would certainly be a more dignified death than getting slaughtered by clones who she used to joke around with both on the battlefield and in the mess. Not the most original way to go either, considering every member of the Jedi Order had gone down from their men's fire.

She actually cracked a smile at her darkly humorous thoughts, but it fell quickly. The state of the universe could be laughed at after she established whether she was in the clear.

Hopefully, she lost the troopers in the metro system. That trick spared her time on Coruscant when her face was plastered across every billboard. Only that time, she had people backing her up, or that's what she kept trying to tell herself. Her previous time on the run must be paying off if she was still alive.

Wounded, but alive.

Coric would be able to tell by sight alone if she'd need a bacta tank, but the thought of the medic was enough to have tears springing to her eyes, teeth clenched around the edge of her cloak to stop herself from crying out.

She wanted Rex, or Anakin- either would do. But the clone was probably lightyears away, dealing with his own problems, and Anakin was, well, he may as well be dead considering she felt their bond snap like a rusty durasteel cable at some point amongst the blur of events.

Everything that happened after Rex raised his blasters at her, Fives' name trembling off his lips, felt like a dream. No, that was putting it too nicely. It was a nightmare.

A nightmare that she wouldn't ever be able to wake up from.

"Are you okay?"

Ahsoka blinked away the wetness in her eyes, trying not to think about how much the voice sounded like her clone brothers. A blonde girl was stood in the street, watching her concerningly. She didn't seem afraid like the other civilians who had caught sight of the dishevelled Togruta running around with dark eyes, mismatched clothes, and draped in a singed, bloody, and torn cloak.

She could imagine Anakin telling her that she had more dignity than this. Fighting, instead of running. But how could she fight? She had no weapons besides a single knife, no plan, and most importantly, no contacts beyond Rex and the Martez sisters. Fighting the clones would only bring her more trouble, and more heartbreak.

They were still her men, even under the unpainted armour and stiff salutes. She saw Cody from a distance a few weeks ago, only recognising him from his CT number being belted by some nat-born officer. The sight of such a respected Commander, and more importantly, a close friend and confidant, saluting some fascist scum had Ahsoka's appetite take a sharp nosedive towards non-existent for several days.