An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Coming out of the woodwork 4 years later to post Ahsoka's POV. Honestly, a lot has happened these past few years, including going through a period of hating my writing, but I missed it and want to get back into my fics, so here's the final installment of Gone with the Rest of Me.
I've had a lot of people over the years ask me for Ahsoka's POV, and boy did she have a lot to say. So while it has been a few years, I'd still like to thank @jasontoddiefor for letting me play in their (now old) MTTT AU sandbox. To anyone still interested, I hope you enjoy:)
Summary:
When Darth Vader dies he has the unfortunate luck to wake up in his twenty year old body, which incidentally consists of an extra arm, two extra legs, a lack of burn scarring, functioning lungs, and hair. For all that he'll probably come to appreciate it later, coming to in a healthy body when you haven't felt a gentle touch in twenty-odd years isn't exactly a pleasant experience. Based in @jasontoddiefor Medical Trauma Time Traveling AU
Snippet:
Too late, she realizes as the Force swells. There’s more shouting, louder now, and the floor shudders. Coric yells. Pax curses. Something heavy bangs against the doors. Too late, too late, too late. Pop, pop, pop. Metal bursts. The men stumble back. Rex’s hand clenches around hers and Cody’s moves to her shoulder. They’re pulling her, but she doesn’t move. They’re saying something, but she doesn’t hear. The lights flicker. Everyone looks up. Oh, she thinks before she can’t think anymore. Anakin screams. Glass shatters. The medbay doors fly into the hallway. Bodies slam against the walls, the ceiling, the floor, reverberating through her bones. Armor contracts and splits. Rex and Cody press on either side of her, Fives shoved somewhere under them. The pressure is everywhere — atop, below, beside — keeping them from moving. Her montrals pound, but she can’t scream without air and there’s nothing for her to breathe. One more pop and the ship will buckle. One more pop and there will never be air again.
