Coruscant, about 10 BBY

Asajj Ventress padded through the bar's smoke-hazy doorway, into the gaudy neons and hushed crowds of the underworld. As she stepped onto the pedwalk, her hand went to her vibroblade. She carried it openly, in lieu of a lightsaber. Force users had begun attracting…inconvenient…attention since the rise of the Empire.

A body jostled her, from the side, and she felt a scaly hand slip into the pocket of her tunic. Asajj pivoted, bringing her blade up under the chin of a disheveled weequay. His beady eyes widened. He began rasping something in his native language, possibly a prayer. Asajj leaned in close, nose to nose.

"I'm not planning to kill you—this time. Pitiful excuse for a pickpocket." She shoved him backwards with her free arm, and continued on. Her stomach clenched in hunger. She had spent her last credits on a few rounds of Corellian ale, back at the bar. Need to find another job, one that pays in advance.

Ventress turned a corner, deftly stepping over a pile of broken lum bottles. It was difficult to find work as an assassin if you didn't hunt Jedi. Asajj was a mostly amoral being, but something kept her from signing on as an enforcer of the New Order. As much as she disdained the narrow, dogmatic Jedi, there were a few knights whom she had respected. And in the Empire's indiscriminate slaughter of its opponents, Asajj found discomfiting echoes of the Nightsisters' massacre during the Clone Wars.

In Asajj's mind, anarchy was ideal. There could be no betrayals if there were no promises of security in the first place. Every being for itself, all with a fair shot at survival. She coughed, stepping into the street.

Among the surviving Jedi was Kenobi, she was certain of it. Asajj had always relished their flirtations, his pitiful compulsion to redeem her. It had been flattering, in a way. Only a complicated game, of course.

A game in which he had almost bested her.

She still couldn't comprehend the concept of redemption—it was merely a euphemism for conforming to Jedi dogma. And, in the end, that proved impossible. Recently free from Dooku's machinations, she had wanted full control over her destiny. Submitting to an arcane code that prohibited revenge had been unappealing.

And she would have made a terrible Jedi.

Ventress laughed bitterly, not caring who heard her. You never had a chance with me, my dear Negotiator. You know how much I enjoy my autonomy.

I still believe in you, Asajj. The words floated into her head, fuzzy, unobtrusive. Nonetheless, she started, whipping her head around by reflex. The street was empty. She sincerely doubted that Kenobi was speaking to her—yet his force-signature hung about the words like a fog.

Kenobi? She ventured, incredulous.

Please lose the skepticism. My abilities have…grown since the fall of the Republic.

What—

I know that you refuse to hunt Jedi. I'm proud of you, Asajj.

She could almost feel his abominable grin. Why don't you karking leave me alone?

I can certainly do that—

Wait! Ventress heard laughter. She imagined him hunkered down somewhere, on the run, disheveled but still ludicrously handsome. She supposed that she could spare a few minutes.

Yes?

You know why I don't hunt Jedi, Kenobi?

There was an empty silence.

Because of my…regard for you.

He didn't answer. The force felt tense, charged. Maybe I embarrassed him, she thought, amused. She found herself returning to their old antagonisms, rediscovering a forgotten pleasure.

No, you didn't embarrass me. I'm…flattered. Things might have been different between us…

I know. So your Padawan is Palpatine's toady now? I'm not as surprised as I should be.

How did you know? Obi Wan's presence was saturated with a resigned sadness. Asajj almost regretted the jab. This was Kenobi, after all; she was hitting him where it hurt.

Because I'm not stupid .In my field, dear one, knowledge is power. She grinned seductively.

Your field…

Yes. I'm certainly glad that I didn't become a Jedi!

Asajj, please.

What? No one wants to push up t'iil blossoms. That's probably what led Skywalker to the Dark Side. Self-preservation.

You're wrong, Asajj—but I don't want to discuss this. The connection between them began fading.

Take care of yourself, Kenobi.

I will certainly try. Goodbye-It's always a pleasure, my dear. In that last moment, his voice filled with a nebulous tangle of emotions- bitterness, hurt, regard, acceptance, anger, hope. She sighed through her teeth as the last shadow of him disappeared into the Force.

Yes, things could have been different.