Hello, everyone! Katierosefun aka Caroline here! Now, I know I just released a story last week - I know, I know, I know - but this actually was a different personal project of mine. I started out with this idea about a year ago, but I never got around the courage or strength to write it until now. Mostly because this story is a very sensitive story to conjure up and tell, seeing that some experiences are similar to my own. But here I am.

I'm going to say it right now, too - I think this is going to be one of my most...mature stories in a while regarding The Clone Wars. Mostly because of themes. So I'm saying that if you have particular triggers, then I think it'd be best for you to take the safe route and avoid this story - I wouldn't be mad. Your priorities and your health comes first.

Now, with that said - here you go.

CD One.

He may have had a few good friends, but Anakin Skywalker didn't remember the last time he got a package from anyone. Maybe on Christmas – maybe on his birthday – but for the most part, the brown package sitting in front of his apartment door was all but foreign to him. The package was taped up sloppily at the sides – with multiple sticks of it making little xs on where the paper met. Anakin could see some of the paper sticking out in odd, awkward angles.

Bewildered, he bent down and picked it up. His first instinct was to shake it, to maybe guess what was inside.

But then he remembered he was still standing outside his door, and it was a Friday night.

And so, tucking the box underneath his arm, Anakin stuck his key in the lock and swung the door open. Instantly, he heard his dog, Artoo, bark frantically and race to him. Anakin grinned. He closed the door behind himself with a foot and crouched down to pat his dog on the head. "Hey, buddy," he said tiredly. "Missed me?"

He set the package on the couch – and with Artoo trailing behind him, he walked over to the pantry to dig out some of the dog food. Anakin pulled down his dog's bowl, shook some of the food in, and set it down in front of the excited dog. Artoo instantly let out a grateful bark and dug into the bowl.

Chuckling lightly under his breath, Anakin turned and headed back to the main room of his apartment, where the package patiently sat. He plopped himself beside the package – picked at the not-so-neat tape job – and after another minute, Anakin worked it out.

And instantly caught sight of a neat pile of CDs, all wrapped together with a worn, dirty-looking rubber band. He frowned and slowly undid the rubber band. The CDs, all placed in cheap plastics, had little numbers written at the top with a black permanent marker. Anakin couldn't make out how many there were – probably just a few – but he took them out anyways, looking through the CDs with growing interest.

Anakin dove back into the package, wondering if there was a note – only to find that instead, there was a folded up map sitting at the bottom. Frown deepening, Anakin dug out the map and folded it out in front of himself on the coffee table. Instantly, Anakin's breath caught in his throat.

He recognized that handwriting. No, he knew that handwriting.

Only he didn't think he'd ever see it again.

The as were messy – the os had little slashes through them, which Anakin always thought was funny when he was grading papers – the ts were a little too long. It was the endearing handwriting of a student that had disappeared from Coruscant High School. Disappeared without a trace.

Ahsoka Tano.

Ahsoka Tano, with dyed blonde hair and funny blue highlights and bright, wide eyes and light brown skin. Ahsoka Tano, with her loud laugh and wide grin before a camera shot a picture of her. Ahsoka Tano, sitting at the far right side of the classroom where Anakin taught in beside his own mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Ahsoka Tano, raising her hand and frequently challenging Anakin's little mini-lessons. Ahsoka Tano, casting sly glances with her classmates every time Anakin and Obi-Wan argued over something.

And then.

And then.

It was Ahsoka Tano, with dyed blonde hair and funny blue highlights and bright, wide eyes and light brown skin. Ahsoka Tano, with her lips pressed together and her eyes always focusing on her desk rather than at the front of the teachers. Ahsoka Tano, sitting at the far right side of the classroom, pressing herself against the wall as if she was trying to blend in with the environment. Ahsoka Tano, never raising her hand or speaking up to challenge Anakin's mini-lessons. Ahsoka Tano, staring straight ahead whenever the whispers started.

Anakin Skywalker knew what was going on. Of course he knew what was going on. He was there when the principal of the high school started questioning Ahsoka. He was there when the other teachers in the office started murmuring amongst themselves about a possible expelling on Ahsoka. He was there when Ahsoka was brought in.

And he was there when Ahsoka denied everything.

And he wasn't there when Ahsoka disappeared. He had been sitting in his classroom, staring at his student's desk when he heard the news. He was thinking over a billion things he could have said when the teachers and the principal accused her of a ridiculous crime that started with a whisper – he was thinking about how he could have possibly stood up for her – he was wishing that he spoke up sooner – he was wishing that he could have spent more time with this peculiar Ahsoka Tano – he was wishing that he could have done more than just smiled at her in the hallways and answered her questions.

Only he didn't.

Of course, there were rumors circulating around the sixteen-year old's disappearance. Some students had said she killed herself – jumped in front of a train and was taken by her family to be buried in her hometown. Other students had said that she was kidnapped, taken to a place out of the country. Someone else said that Ahsoka had been killed by a serial killer and that was why she was gone.

Funny, Anakin had thought, listening to those rumors, that no one bothers to take this kind of gossip seriously but not the gossip that was actually aimed at Ahsoka herself.

But now, Anakin was staring down at the map – the map of the town of Coruscant – and looking at little stars marked at certain locations, with words written like, "the garage" and "where she kicked me to the ground – literally" and "our last conversation". That one sent shivers down Anakin's back.

Our last conversation.

What did it all mean? Why was Anakin looking down at this map? Who sent this to him? Was it Ahsoka herself?

Anakin frantically took up the package again, his eyes scanning the small box for a return address. Only he didn't find any. He was only left with the CDs.

He fingered the first CD – which had a neat 1 scrawled on the cover. Anakin pressed his lips together. He had a portable CD player – a Discman, only he hardly used it anymore. He remembered Obi-Wan asking him why he didn't bother throwing it out yet. ("I'm going to work on it!" Anakin had protested. "Besides, it's a perfectly good Discman. You never know when you might need it.")

Well, Anakin thought to himself, feeling his stomach pitch and roll, now I need it.

Standing up, Anakin walked towards his bedroom – dug through the back of his dresser – and managed to find the old Discman sitting underneath his shirts. He pulled it out – fingered the old earbuds which were still attached to the device – and walked back into the main room with it still in his hands.

Artoo, finished with his meal, had run back in, sitting on the couch and beaming up at Anakin with a slightly open, panting mouth. Anakin managed to give the dog another pat – but he sat down without looking at him. Anakin dragged forward the first CD – hesitated before opening the Discman – but before he could lose his nerve, he jammed the CD in.

And pressed play.

"Hello, hello, everyone. Ahsoka Tano here."

Anakin felt himself flinch. It was her. She sounded different on CD – everyone's voices did – but this was different altogether.

"If you received this, it's for one reason and one reason only. And guess what? It has something to do with the recent turn of events. I suppose by now, you had heard the news – or the gossip, whatever you base your facts on.

The reason why you got these CDs is because you, my dear listener, are one of the reasons why I'm gone."

What? Anakin thought to himself, staring down at the Discman. No. No, no, no, no, no. I had nothing to do with it! (But he could have said "hello" more often. He could have said something. He could have…done more.)

"No, you didn't hear that wrong. This isn't some crazy nightmare. Or dream. Again, that all depends on what you consider a dream or a nightmare. Who knows? I certainly don't, which I suppose kinda sucks. I won't be able to see your reactions. Or maybe I will. Who knows – I'm still around, after all.

Sorry. Did that scare you? I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just having fun."

This isn't fun, Ahsoka, Anakin thought to himself, closing his eyes and falling back into the couch. This isn't fun at all.

"There's only two rules here. First, you listen to the CDs. Then, you pass them on. Now, if you break these rules, trust me – they'll be released in an extremely public manner. Do not take me for granted…

Again.

Now, you just pass it onto the next person on the list – so if you're number one, you pass the CDs onto person number two anonymously – only I suppose it wouldn't be quite anonymous, because you just need to know who the person was behind you. And the lucky last person – well, you'll know what to do when you listen to your own CD.

I'm sure most of you are tempted to skip through the CDs to find your name. Well, I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to listen through all of them. You might not even want to stick around once you listen to your own CD…but if that happens, I'll know. Trust me."

Wait, wait, wait.

Anakin pressed his hands up to his face. He was tempted to throw out the CDs right there. There was a trash can sitting in the corner of the room – he could chuck them all in and that'd be it. No CDs. No memories. Nothing would be left.

And yet…

Ahsoka said that they'd be released.

And…

After everything she's been through, don't you think you owe her at least that? Listening to her last words? A small voice whispered in the back of Anakin's mind. You couldn't do shit before. What's keeping you from doing something now? Anakin pressed his lips together. He looked back down at the Discman – heaved in a deep breath – and picked it up again.

"Oh, and you should have received a map. On that map are a bunch of locations that were starred by yours truly – now, this part of the trip is completely optional, especially if you're not really the go-get-up type. Still, if you're curious about what I saw – about what I thought – go ahead. I'm not stopping you, either.

And for our first location.

Look at A-4 on your maps, everyone. There, you'll see the public garage. Yeah. You know, when random visitors need a place to park their cars? This town is so fucking crowded that we need one of those, only it's not one of those neat, nice ones that you sometimes find in the big cities. It's one of those dirty ones that are filled with cigarette smoke and bad dubstep music that make everyone's ears hurt."

Almost automatically, Anakin reached down and picked up the map. After following the numbers and letters, Anakin's eyes found the location – A-4. The garage.

That was all that was written there. Nothing specific. Just the garage.

And then, without thinking, Anakin was standing back up. He was jogging out of his apartment, ignoring Artoo barking after him. He slammed the door and sprinted out of the apartment building and into the streets. Ahsoka wasn't even talking, as though she knew – she knew – that he'd be running outside. That her listeners would be sprinting out of wherever because it was suddenly all very toxic to be inside.

It was June – and the summer sky hadn't turned dark yet. Anakin could see some students laughing on their walks home and a couple exchanging kisses on a bench. It was too warm to wear any outer layers – and Anakin was clad only in the tee that he had worn to school and a pair of old, thin jeans. He shaded a hand over his hand – looked around, feeling almost disoriented. His breaths were coming out quickly – he hadn't even realized it until now.

"Anakin?"

Anakin froze, his hands scrambling over the Discman to pause Ahsoka's upcoming words. He turned to see Obi-Wan standing in front of him, eyes bewildered and confused. And then Anakin saw his friend's eyes lower to the Discman in his hands. And something changed in Obi-Wan's expression – something almost sad, almost knowing.

God, Anakin thought to himself, was he on the list? Did he listen to these CDs? Did he send these to me?

"Obi-Wan," Anakin replied, closing his eyes briefly. "Sorry. I was just heading out."

Obi-Wan didn't seem fazed by that. He nodded once – and replied, "That's fine. I think you'll need it." His voice went soft at that. Anakin was tempted to run over and ask, "What does that even mean? What do you know?" Instead, he nodded back. He pointed a thumb behind himself – and added somewhat breathlessly, "See you around, then." With that, and not even waiting for a response, Anakin turned and sprinted down to meet whatever would be waiting for him in the garage.

And pressed play.

"Bane's Garage," Ahsoka said as Anakin skidded to a stop in front of the beaten-down garage. Sure enough, it was just as Anakin had remembered – dim, fluorescent lights, blinking and flickering on and off. He could see some sketchy looking employees, lighting cigarettes and guffawing loudly at arm wrestles.

"And though it's called a garage, I think everyone knows that Bane's Garage is just a hang-out for drug addicts and catcallers and the like. Only the police don't really do much about it. They don't usually do their jobs right, if you think about it. But that's a political problem, and I honestly hate talking about politics," Ahsoka mused. "But this particular garage is owned by someone. A particular someone."

Anakin knew the name even before Ahsoka said it.

"Cad Bane, I know you're probably one of the dirtiest and worst of the sleemos who live in this rotten town, but I think you should be ready for this turn."

Anakin's throat tightened. He slowly sat down on one of the street benches and fingered his Discman, all the while keeping a close eye on the employees swinging around the front of the garage. He heard the shatter of glass hitting the sidewalk – probably some bottle. The roar of laughter that followed afterward only confirmed Anakin's suspicions – and though he knew it was probably dangerous to stick around, Anakin couldn't help but to stay put.

"Now, there's a few benches in front of the garage. Go sit on one, if you will. Watch. Watch the men walking by – watch as the employees shout mean and cruel things after them. Can you hear their words? You can pause this if you want to hear. Because I did. I heard those mean words couldn't ever be said – some of them are downright bad – but again, no one seems to care." There weren't any men walking past the garage right now. Everyone was either still at work – or they just avoided this sidewalk, and for good reason. Some of the employees were fighting now.

"You stole my girl!"

"Nah, man, I didn't."

"Yeah, you fucking did."

"No, I fucking didn't."

A different employee just chortled, "Naw, man. He just fucked her."

Instantly, the three employees all tackled each other, punches being thrown and shouts echoing around the street. Anakin sighed and looked up at the sky instead. He put up the volume a bit – and though it made his ears and his head hurt, he needed to listen to something else.

"Now keep an eye out for the girls. Some of them are young students – with books clutched to the front of their chests, their bags slung over their shoulders and eyes trained on the ground. Most of them are in groups – but look out for the girls who are walking all by themselves, with their hands rigidly tucked in their pockets. Their jaws are set in squares. They're walking quickly – briskly – but you can sense an aura of alertness and alarm around them.

Now listen to the men calling after those girls.

Can you hear them?

Can you?

'I'm gonna rape you,' one screams.

'Hey, girl, why don't you come here and play me a number? Why don't ya?' another taunts.

'Hey! Why won't you answer me, huh? Think you're better than me, bitch?' someone from inside shouts.

'Hot stuff! Come in here and give this lonely old man some of that!'"

Oh, God, Anakin thought, swallowing. He could feel his stomach churning. He knew that it was common to hear those kinds of comments thrown at girls especially. And he knew it was impolite – his mother had drilled it into his head, saying, "Ani, if a girl doesn't want your attention, don't force it from her." And later on, his own friends who were girls would say, "Anakin, I swear to God, if I ever find you calling after someone, I'm gonna make sure you don't live to see another day."

And Anakin knew about how wrong it was.

Only listening to Ahsoka – a young girl – share something…was a different experience.

"And this is where you come in, Cad Bane.

Tell me, what were you thinking when you called after me?

Were you bored? Because I know that you weren't as loud as your stupid employees. I know that you didn't quite fit in with them – but they respected you. And you never really got into their activities, only that day, you did.

I was there. It was on an autumn day. I was walking home from school, already feeling down because I had flunked another stupid test about parabolas and some nonsense that I wasn't ever going to use in a few years. And I didn't want to walk past your garage, but it was the quickest way home. I had begged one of my friends to walk with me – only she left too early. Sometimes, I wonder if she did that on purpose.

You were standing in front of the garage that day.

And at first, I was almost relieved. I walked past your garage without trouble. I had been holding my breath. I was almost down the street when suddenly, I heard you say something. It was quiet – and I thought I could ignore it.

Stupid me."

Anakin felt a memory stir inside him. He had been starting up his car – and he saw Ahsoka walking home with her head down, scuffing her shoes against the sidewalk. He thought it was a curious sight, since she never seemed to walk home without a friend. She looked lonely – he remembered thinking that.

"Because I remember exactly what you said that day, Cad Bane. Every. Single. Fucking. Word.

'Come here, little lady.'

Hold on, Ahsoka. You're freaking out just because of four words? Compared to what everyone else screams? Why are you getting so huffed over four words?

No. You don't get it.

It doesn't matter if it's one word or twenty five words. It still stings. It still makes people want to run and hide and cover themselves.

I kept walking. Do you remember that, Bane? I kept walking, keeping my eyes staring straight ahead. I heard some of your employees laughing, saying things like, 'oh, we've got a defiant one here!' And I wanted to run back and sock you all where it hurt – trust me, I did. But I didn't.

I didn't want to make it worse.

But boy, would I have liked to kick you in the crotch. Boy, would I have liked to see your smug little smile disappear. Boy, would I have liked to see you on the ground, swearing that you'd never say shit like that to anyone. Ever. Again.

Only I didn't.

And that was when you ran after me. You grabbed my wrist…remember? And you turned me around to face you…remember? And you were laughing at me…remember? And your employees were laughing…remember? And they were asking me, 'why won't you answer him, sweetheart?'…remember? And then you began playing with my braids…remember?

You know, that braid was made by myself when I was in middle school. I was proud of it. I had gotten the top of my art class for making that braid – all out of pretty little beads. It was a pretty petty thing – but I liked it."

Anakin remembered that braid. It was pretty. Anakin remembered thinking that. There were quaint looking, triangular beads followed by a multitude of circular ones, and there seemed to be a second part of it, gracefully clinking together with the first part of the braid each time Ahsoka walked around. Ahsoka did that – she wore different, unique pieces of jewelry. Sometimes it'd be some kind of head decoration that fell to her forehead – other times, it'd be a choker. But the braid was always there.

Anakin always wanted to ask Ahsoka where it was from – compliment on how cool the beads were. But he had swallowed back his words, thinking that it'd be odd and that it'd make Ahsoka think he was odd.

"I froze. I couldn't breathe. And in a bad way. I wanted to break from you and run – run as fast as I possibly could, and then vomit in a place.

I remember you snapped off the braid.

I remember seeing the beads – miraculously – hold themselves together. I also remember you were playing around with them, commenting on how pretty they were. And you know, Cad Bane? I didn't think they were too pretty anymore. And I kind of hated you for it. That you decided to put your greasy, dirty hands on something that I made myself.

And now I'm never going to be able to wear that braid again without thinking about how you decided to take control over it."

Actually, now that Anakin thought of it, he did compliment on Ahsoka's beads.

She hadn't smiled. She only replied, "thank you" and didn't talk to him for the rest of class.

Anakin had been puzzled by her reaction.

God.

"But then I snapped. I grabbed my braid – stumbled back – and glared at you. You had smiled. Your lips curled into a disgusting, slimy smirk. And I remember wanting to punch you so bad – push you into the cars speeding by. I was tempted to do it.

Because people who do that aren't good people. They don't…deserve to be around.

But hey." Ahsoka's voice sounded oddly light now, which unnerved Anakin. "Who am I to determine who lives and who dies? I can't play that way – can't pretend to be some higher upper power, if that's what you believe in. But I was tempted. I couldn't help but to wonder, you know. I couldn't help but to wonder what exactly was going through your head when you snapped my braid off. I couldn't help but to wonder what exactly was going through your head when you called after me.

I grabbed my braid back, though. And you just laughed in my face. Told me to calm down. Told me that I was getting too mad about something that was considered casual.

So."

Anakin felt his hands tighten in his lap. He watched as some of the employees spat on the ground in front of a passing girl with a dark ponytail. He watched as the girl quickly stepped out of the way, her arms crossing over her chest. She seemed to shrink as the men screamed after her. Anakin watched as the girl paused – no, he thought, keep walking. Don't stop.

And then, her lower lip jutting out, she whirled around and stuck up her middle finger, earning herself a bunch of oohs from the men.

"You like it rough, girlie?"

"Aw, look at her, guys!"

Anakin kept watching as the girl backed up a few steps. Her eyes went wide – and then she turned and ran around as fast as she could.

"Well, Bane, I've heard about idiots like you. They don't stop, you know? They don't. Stop.

And if I ever told someone about it, the typical answer would be, "the victim asked for it." Like it was my fault that you decided to think it was okay to cross my personal boundaries.

But tell us, Ahsoka – why's he there? There are thousands – if not millions and billions of catcallers in the world. Isn't it unfair to call just him out?

Wrong.

So fucking wrong.

Because later, Bane, you might not have realized it – but your comments continued to follow me around, especially after what happened…but that's for a later CD.

Because later, Bane, you kept shouting after me. Those quiet four words? Those words you thought were worthless and just for fun? You repeated them all the time. Whenever I walked past your place, you were there. You always seemed to be there. Waiting for me. And after those tired, long days in school – when it seemed that everyone seemed to be turned against me – you were there. Calling after me.

I fucking hate you for that."

Anakin narrowed his eyes at the employees, still swinging their arms and calling after people who weren't there any longer. He stood up slowly – and wondered in Cad Bane was in there right now. What was he doing? What had he thought? Did he take these words seriously?

"I don't know what the fuck you thought gave you the right to make me feel like I was less than any other person in the world, but I'll leave with this message.

If. A. Girl. Tells. You. To. Stop.

You. Have. To. Stop.

Stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop! Your words don't do shit for her. It crawls under her skin and makes her feel unsafe in a world. It slithers in the back of her mind and she's frozen in place.

Your words don't appeal to her. She won't throw herself at you. She'll wish you were dead. She'll wish you could stop.

Just stop."

Anakin heard Ahsoka take a shuddery breath. There were a few beats of silence.

"But that's it."

A/N - Okay, let me back this up. This story was also inspired by 13 Reasons Why, a book written by Jay Asher - and I would recommend in a heartbeat. Now, of course, I couldn't imagine thirteen people responsible for Ahsoka's leaving - so I narrowed it down to four, instead. I understand that Cad Bane wouldn't be an automatic choice, but I think I tossed him in because of the experiences I've heard people talk about - and how those little things can actually send more people off. And I also wanted to shed some light into this matter. (Calling. After. A. Girl. And. Threatening. To. Harm. Her. Is. Not. Romantic. Or. Sexy. It. Is. Disgusting.)

I've personally always seen Ahsoka as the kind of girl who wouldn't take that rough kind of treatment from people. (Hey, let's look at how she treated Atai in the Zygerria Slave Arc. Or how she looked at Bane after he took her braid. Or even how she told the Zygerrian Queen that she wasn't owned by anyone. The list goes on and on and on and on.)

Again, I think this is going to be one of my biggest projects of the summer (because yay, I'm done with classes! I'm going to have finals coming up soon!) and don't worry, I will be releasing happier stories.

As always, reviews would be great! Constructive criticism (regarding the actual content, not my opinion on catcalling, thanks) is tolerable, but flames are not!