When the Ruping's calls begin to echo through the sky, Ahsoka knows it's time to go. Her heart sinks deep the moment she opens her eyes to the newborn dawn. It hurts already. Not the ideal way to start her day, but she finds herself oddly becoming used to the feeling. It's always like this now. She used to wake feeling whole and centered, the force already alive and pulsing around her. Guiding her. But now it's a danger to reach for it. Now it's a void where presences are a cold, dimming few. If any at all.

Today though, on this one soft morning, she gets to roll over in bed and play witness to the early sun warming Lux Bonteri's cheeks in a small, golden glow. It's more comfort than she ever thought she'd have again. His dark brown hair is all a mess now, a disheveled victim to their amorous play and the soft, silken pillows. The Clone Wars have ended, and they've both seen more than their fair share of disaster, but still his face keeps all those chiseled hints of childhood and youth. She loves that. Surely she's aged more visibly than him. Her lekku are longer now and her montrals have reached a new peak. But him... Looking at Lux makes her feel like the Galaxy's light hasn't been smothered. He's just the same as the image she's kept in her memories.

That's why waking up is so hard. The dreams are over.

Ahsoka does her best to slip out from beneath the covers unheard. She wills herself to be entirely silent. She can't chance the tiniest noises or gentlest movements waking her sleeping partner to her side. If he were to open his eyes to the sight of her now- slipping into her boots, clasping her bag of meager belongings- surely the young rebel would begin to protest. And she couldn't bear that. He would speak all the right words and her heart would yearn and beg and plead to stay forever as if they'd somehow earned this life... but she knew she couldn't. It would destroy them.

Stealth hasn't always been her strong point; or at least not one she was able to explore as much with a master like Anakin. Nearly every plan he had ended with explosions, running, and lightsabers drawn as if it'd been his calling card. Master Skywalker was just too great to go unnoticed by his enemies, perhaps. She hates to think she might now be disappointing her old master, but there is no way she can keep that boisterous trend of his now. This plan of discreetness and silence is the only one that will work if she is live in this world.

That's another thing she tells herself she has to stop thinking about so much. Master Skywalker is gone.

She finds her poncho by the door, with a hood big enough to keep her face uninteresting. The moment she fits the hood over her montrals, she feels perfectly foreign to herself. She's Ashla now, and Ashla has no business being with ex-senator Lux Bonteri. They don't know each other and they ever will.

Lux stepped down from the corrupt and faux-senate once the Empire reared its ugly head, refusing to uphold its ways in secret so as to avoid execution. And now she knows he has every intention of joining rebel cells. In a moment of such earnest and intense emotions, when they both could no longer hold all their secrets inside, he had admitted that to her and all of his plans for insurgency. Ahsoka may like a good fight, as he knows well, but Ashla can have nothing to do with that.

After all, a Jedi- no, a force-sensitive- still alive after Order 66 makes her incredibly appetizing to the new Galactic Empire. Lux is the only one who knows Ahsoka Tano is still alive. At least... in some manner. Most of her has died, as Lux sensed himself when he had felt her his arms. Yet, even so, he's the only one who can link her face to the force. She trusts him with that. She trusts him with the last bits of her hopeful heart.

She has no right to drag him into whatever danger she may run into. Sure, he'll be plenty able to find some trouble on his own. He's proven that more than enough times, and she smiles for a moment at the thought of it. He's so much stronger and wiser now because of those long-ago times. But it won't be as bright as the past if he sticks with her for any longer. It will be worse. She can't fight the fight he wants. And if anything happens to him because of her, Ahsoka will truly perish. Then there will only be Ashla.

He doesn't hear any of her dressing or walking about the room. Thankfully. He is still sleeping so soundly in the bed, blissfully unaware that the space beside him is now empty. The blanket just teases the sight of his scarred shoulders and the warm, wounded chest she had found warmth in last night. A gust of second-thoughts and regrets fills her suddenly. She's watching him so desperately, it seems for an instant like the force-connection might alert him to her need for him. She almost wants him to open his eyes and stop her. She bites her lips, thinking about his arms around her. He'd say that they would work through this. He'd say that they'd come up with a plan. Together. They're good at things like that- they always found a way.

But this isn't her moment to have. She knows that, and her desperation dissipates as her eyes drop to the floor with shame. Maybe if she were some average woman she would be allowed more of these incredible, amazing moments beside him, and all of their embarrassing, wonderful, powerful feelings. She'd be able to have him for herself. She's no longer a Jedi- she gave up that title. She no longer has the Code to prevent her from having this attachment. Alas, to simply shove away the Jedi teachings she's known her whole life the same way the Empire has extinguished them, would be shoving away everything she's ever been. She can't simply forfeit the force or her connection to it. And, though the temptation to stay in that bed beside Lux's kind warmth aches like no wound she's experienced before, she knows it's not her place. It never was.

The force has another destiny working for her.

Ahsoka slides her blaster into a holster at her side, a place near where her lightsabers would have been. It still feels odd to not have them at her sides, but this will do. Ashla, an ordinary, inauspicious nomad, would have a blaster. Her blue eyes perk up to the sight of her reflection in a mirror. She looks dull and title-less. That's the goal she supposes. Another quick scan around the room to ensure there won't be a single trace left her and she's set at last. There's nothing anyone will be able to find that will connect her to Lux. Not that she keeps many belongings with her anyways. Minimalism used to be simply a Jedi custom, but now it's a necessity for her survival.

She looks back at Lux one last time. This is it. While she knows the force works in mysterious ways, and that if Lux proceeds with joining a rebellion she may one day see him, or better yet, hear of his success, she also knows this will probably be the last she'll see of him for quite some time. If ever. And it is a beautiful sight of the man she begrudgingly adores. There is no stress, or worry, or fear anywhere on his sleeping face. His thick brows are free from cynical arches, and his lips do not talk of plots or battles. She wishes him to be free of all that, though unrealistically so. The care she feels for him will never go away, but she must let go of him now. She's already stayed far longer than she should have.

Solitude is instinct for her, and so she finally turns away towards the door. One step beyond and she will begin a new and separate path from that of Lux. She will save the sight of his content, untroubled face to her memory forever. She won't be able to dwell on it, but it may perhaps be of some comfort on nights she'll be cold or particularly alone. And just as she will cherish him, he will have to hold on to the ghost of Ahsoka Tano for her. Keep her safe. Love her and hold her in his memories.

That's all she could ever ask for.