For just a moment, she closed her eyes and let the despair well up inside her.
Barely a few hours away from the Order, and already she was being held captive. This time, there would be no friends searching the lower levels for her if she went missing. No SkyGuy showing up with his usual grumpy scowl to haul his apprentice out of the latest mess she'd managed to stumble into. No lightsaber hidden nearby, waiting to be reclaimed.
She was on her own.
Ahsoka forced herself to breathe evenly. Whoever these people were, they weren't small-time thugs. Anyone bold enough to put bounties on Jedi—and brave or stupid enough to try collecting them on Coruscant itself—wasn't someone she wanted to meet under ideal circumstances, let alone restrained and disarmed. Coruscant authorities took a very dim view of Jedi hunters, but that didn't stop desperate or reckless people from trying.
She reached slowly for the binders resting on the bar in front of her.
"Slowly," a voice warned from behind her. "No quick moves, or I add a hole to that pretty little head of yours."
She froze mid-motion.
Unfortunately, that was precisely the moment Harry chose to set down his datapad with a quiet sigh and a faint shake of his head. He reached out and casually plucked the binders off the bar, lifting them as though they were nothing more than an idle distraction. Almost absently, he passed them from hand to hand while staring off into the middle distance, his expression thoughtful, as if the entire situation had somehow slipped his notice.
Ahsoka stiffened.
What was the stranger thinking? Getting involved now would only get him shot—especially since he didn't appear to be armed.
The man holding the blaster on her blinked, momentarily startled by the movement. "Hey," he snapped, shifting his aim. "Buddy. Give those back to the girl."
Ahsoka hadn't moved, but Harry finally turned around to face the man threatening her. He clasped his hands together loosely, the binders resting between his palms. Ahsoka turned her head just enough to watch him, expecting another shouted warning—but none came.
That slight shift gave her a clearer view of the room.
At least three people stood behind her, blasters raised and trained on her back. One of them had already redirected their weapon toward Harry. Through the subtle sensory feedback of her montrals—hollow structures evolved to gather ultrasonic information—she could tell there were more people just outside her direct line of sight. She resisted the urge to turn further; drawing attention to herself wouldn't help.
Most of the room's focus had shifted to Harry.
She sent up a silent hope that the distraction would buy her a chance to escape—and promised herself that if she survived this, she'd try to get the foolish stranger out alive too.
Then she felt it.
Harry's hands shifted slightly, and a faint surge rippled through the Force.
No one else reacted. If they'd felt anything, the men with blasters would already have fired.
The apparent leader snarled, reasserting control. "Unless you want to eat a blaster bolt, hand over the binders. Or better yet—put them on her."
"What binders?" Harry asked mildly.
He opened his hands, palms cupped together as he leaned forward toward them.
Ahsoka's eyes were drawn to his hands despite herself. She recognized the move immediately—perfect misdirection.
Instead of binders, a small pile of black, faintly glinting powder rested in his palms.
"What?" the man barked. "Where did you put the binders?"
His blaster snapped fully toward Harry now.
Harry appeared utterly unconcerned by the weapons aimed at him. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hands higher, giving everyone a clear view of the strange substance. The powder didn't reflect light normally—it seemed to drink it in, shimmering in a way Ahsoka had never seen before.
Then, without warning, Harry inhaled sharply and blew.
The black powder burst outward in a sudden cloud—and Ahsoka felt another surge in the Force as the entire area was swallowed by complete, unnatural darkness.
Gasps erupted from all around them.
"Who turned off the damn li—" someone shouted, the sentence cut short.
Ahsoka didn't need her eyes.
Her montrals fed her a stream of spatial information, mapping movement through sound and vibration. She sensed Harry moving immediately, stepping into the cloud without hesitation. Several more subtle pulses rippled through the Force as he closed with the bounty hunters.
Then came two blaster shots.
Screams followed—from startled patrons more than pain—and the bar erupted into chaos. Some people ducked under tables. Others reached for concealed weapons.
Ahsoka didn't wait.
She rolled sideways out of her chair and dropped low, putting distance between herself and where she'd been sitting moments before. She hadn't seen who fired the blaster bolts or where they'd struck, and she had no intention of staying upright long enough to find out.
Then—silence.
The darkness lingered only a heartbeat longer before another gentle surge of the Force swept through the room. The black cloud collapsed inward, folding neatly back into itself and flowing toward Harry's outstretched hand.
Light returned.
Ahsoka stared.
Six people lay unconscious in a heap near the bar, sprawled where they'd fallen. Further out among the tables, another figure slid bonelessly from his chair to the floor. His chest rose and fell steadily—alive, at least.
She stood, stunned, her mouth opening to speak—
Movement behind the bar caught her attention.
The bartender had slumped against the wall during the chaos. Now, instead of standing, she stared at Harry and Ahsoka in shock, one hand pressed tightly to her chest. The acrid smell of burned fabric and flesh reached Ahsoka's nose a second later.
A blaster bolt.
Ahsoka's heart dropped.
Harry noticed it at the same time. "Oh, hell," he muttered.
He was already moving, vaulting the bar in a smooth, economical motion that reminded Ahsoka painfully of Jedi she'd fought alongside for years. She followed an instant later, though she already suspected there was little she could do.
Harry knelt beside the woman and gently but firmly pulled her hand away from her chest.
Ahsoka took one look and knew.
Two years of near-constant combat had taught her to recognize mortal wounds. The bolt had burned straight through. The only thing that might save the bartender would be immediate immersion in a bacta tank—and there wasn't one within kilometers.
The woman tried to speak, lips trembling, but no sound emerged. Then her strength failed, and she collapsed fully behind the bar with a weak, broken grunt.
Ahsoka swallowed hard.
Whatever Harry was… he hadn't meant for this.
And neither had she.