Work Text:
The used clothing store was in an out of the way corner of the station, big enough to have stuff for humanoids in general rather than just near-humans, but small enough that the Empire wouldn’t have tapped into their security system.
Not yet, at least. She hoped.
Ahsoka examined a rack of coats with large enough hoods to fit anyone with horns or lekku or head tentacles of some kind, faking a level of comfort with the whole situation of clothes-shopping that she didn’t feel. Jedi didn’t really shop for clothes, but then again, Ahsoka wasn’t a Jedi, and it wasn’t her first time buying an outfit out of a desperate need to ditch the one she was wearing. Back then she’d had more money, but less idea of how much things were supposed to cost. Maybe the factors would even each other out and she’d have the same amount left over.
No. Trace and Rafa had trained her well in the art of figuring out how much things were worth and paying only a little more than that. Rafa could usually achieve slightly less, but Ahsoka had only been able to learn so much over a couple months of staying with the Martez sisters. They’d taught her things about living life outside the Order that would have taken Ahsoka years to learn on her own.
Maybe that was why she was still alive when so many were dead.
Ahsoka shook her head, resisted the impulse to keep shaking it as if she could somehow shake off everything that had happened, how empty the Force felt now, without the Jedi and clones in it, and made herself focus on the jacket in front of her. It was black synth leather with a zipper down the front. It would blend in well with travelers, but when Ahsoka tried it on, the hood was too small to fit her montrals. And besides, it didn’t even reach her waist. If it was a big enough coat, all people would see was the coat, and if push came to shove, she’d be able to take it off and look different.
Also, it smelled like disgustingly sweet cleaning fluid. It was probably nice for species with less acute senses of smell, but it would drive Ahsoka up the wall until she got a chance to wash it, and that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
She put the coat back with a sigh.
There were cloaks, but Ahsoka needed something that didn’t scream ‘Jedi’ the way a cloak did. Other people wore them, sure, but Jedi were known for it, and it was very dangerous to look like a Jedi right now.
Ahsoka had given her cloak to Rex. It was a soft purpley-grey thing they’d found in the Venator’s stores, one of those larger cloaks Rex and Anakin had taken to keeping on hand in case she had a growth spurt. Someone had moved it to their Venator when half the 501st had left for Mandalore. Rex hadn’t known who.
Ahsoka had insisted that he take it, because both his face and his helmet were easily recognizable, while Ahsoka might actually be less recognizable without it. Splitting up had been a mutual decision, since Jedi and clones were so closely associated in people’s minds after years of war, though neither of them had been happy about it.
Rex could still be on the station. If she reached out, she might be able to sense him. She could go find him, and then she wouldn’t be alone.
No. What was left of the Jedi were almost certainly being hunted down as traitors. Ahoska had left the Order, but the Empire clearly didn’t care. The Empire might not know that either of them were alive, but they were looking for people like Ahsoka, not people like Rex. He’d be safer without her.
And besides, she could handle being alone. She’d done it before, after all.
She tried another few jackets before something dark green caught her eye. The fabric was heavy enough to provide decent protection, not on the level of actual armor, but the best normal fabric could provide. It had a few pieces of faded silver detailing, and the cloth was worn in places, but not so much she’d have to patch it unless she started dragging her elbows along rough walls on purpose. It fastened with snaps, and there were two roomy pockets on the outside, plus two hidden ones on the inside. It was a little loose on her, going past her knees, and the hood was huge, but that meant it would last her through another few growth spurts. Her montrals were already almost even with Rex; maybe she’d be taller than him by the time she was fully grown.
If she ever saw him again.
No, she would. She was sure of it.
Ahsoka took a few deep breaths, discovered that under the less intense citrus-y cleaner that had been used on it the coat smelled like starfighters, like carbon scoring and exhaust and metal and machine oil, and had to fight back tears. Anakin had smelled like starfighters, and now he was gone and she couldn’t feel him in the Force at all, really, she thought she’d at least be able to sense her own master now that he was part of the living Force, and she hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.
She’d really thought they’d both make it out the other side. Like they always did. Like they always had, before Order Sixty-Six.
But if she thought about that right now, she’d start crying in the middle of a second-hand clothing store, and that would be the exact opposite of inconspicuous.
Ahsoka bought the clothes, noting that she had more than enough to buy passage to another system, and might even be able to make it another two systems before she’d have to start finding work. She found a laundromat, fairly sure that unlike Rafa’s, this one was actually just a laundromat and not a front for something, and stuck the clothes in a machine, counting the minutes until she could get moving again. She found a restroom and changed, concealing the beskar Bo-Katan had given her in her pack and hoping she’d never get desperate enough to sell any of it. The Mandalorian would kill her if she ever found out. The fabric would be a much better candidate for selling, but Ahsoka wanted to move a few systems towards the Outer Rim first, so no one might think to connect the dots between a Y-wing arriving at the station and the sale of a Mandalorian outfit.
She was keeping the boots though. It was easier to disguise them than find another pair of good ones. She wrapped them in cloth to hide the beskar before putting them on. The coat went over the simple shirt and pants she’d purchased, followed by the pack. A blaster would be good to have at some point, but she didn’t have the credits for one right now, and she could make due until then. Blaster training wasn’t exactly a standard part of the Jedi curriculum, but Rex had insisted, and the rest of the 501st had been happy to give her pointers. Not all of their suggestions had been serious, but she’d appreciate the help nonetheless.
They’d helped her get better at blocking blaster bolts too, by setting their blasters to stun and effectively using her for target practice. They couldn’t have known what they were preparing her for, right? Or had a part of them always known what they might one day be ordered to do, and wanted her to be as ready as she possibly could?
Well. Whatever their intentions, because of their actions, she was alive now. And if she wanted to do anything, she’d have to stay that way.
Ahsoka drew the hood of her coat over her head and walked out into the masses to put all her fugitive-ing experience into practice.