Longlivetheclones

Chapter 127: Watch for Traps

Fox had known General Vos for less than two days. In that time he'd been knocked unconscious by him, healed by him, (twice, actually), and watched him charm every guardsman he met with little or no effort. He'd seen him meditate with a stolen gauntlet pressed to bare skin and pull a vision out of the Force. 

He had not, until about four minutes ago, seen him fight.

Fox had watched it happen from the rappel line, descending into the smoke. Vos had simply leapt from the gunship like it was something he did on a regular basis.

He'd seen the rocket fire arc toward the cockpit where Crash and Grip were holding the ship steady. He'd seen Vos twist through open air like the laws that governed everyone else simply didn't apply to him, bat the shot backward into the launcher itself, and crash down hard onto the rooftop with no apparent concern for the fact that he'd just thrown himself off a hovering gunship with nothing but the Force to catch him.

Fox had seen men die for less reckless choices than that.

Then he was up and running, full sprint, leaping the gap between rooftops like the twenty-meter drop beneath him was an inconvenience rather than a death sentence. He took out the rocket launcher and somehow just knew another was targeting the ships still unloading.

Fox filed it away in the place where he kept things that didn't fit his understanding of the galaxy. That file had been growing very fast since yesterday morning, when a Jedi had put his boots on Fox's desk and refused to be called General.

He didn't have time to think about it further. He had his own rooftop to survive.

Less than thirty seconds and he was already involved in a heavy firefight and try to pull injured shinies to safety.

"Medic!" Fox shouted into his comms, ducking behind his riot shield as a heavy volley slammed into his position.

The blaster fire was relentless. It felt like a solid curtain of superheated plasma from a hundred droid weapons tracking across the rooftop in sweeping arcs. The air smelled wrong: burning durasteel, scorched plastoid, something chemical and acrid from the fire eating through the ventilation housings along the far parapet.

Fox had been at Geonosis.

It had smelled like this. And, many, many troopers had died that day.

He checked on Sixes. The trooper had been shot on the way down and his helmet had come off when he crashed into the rooftop. He hadn't landed anywhere near Fox, and from how hard he'd hit, Fox was sure Sixes would never rise again. But, the young trooper proved him wrong. Fox saw the moment. He was moving his arm, likely trying to find where he'd dropped his blaster.

Fox didn't think. He just scrambled out to retrieve the injured trooper. Fifty meters of open rooftop. Every droid in the elevated superstructure had a clear line of sight. Fox didn't think about it. He just moved, ducking and shooting and trying to crouch as low behind his shield as he could.

He made it back. He was still not entirely sure how he did, dragging an injured trooper and neither of them taking another shot on the way.

Sixes hadn't moved since they'd gotten back. Fox felt for his belt pouch, grabbing out a stim. If there was one thing the guard was given in ample supply, it was stims. He jammed one into Sixes' neck and the trooper gasped and opened his eyes.

"Don't you die on me," Fox growled. "I'll make you clean freshers for a month."

The shinies eyes fluttered open. "Point… taken… Commander." A trickle of blood slowly dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

Fox bit his lip. All the other battalions always sent him their shinies. Sixes had originally been a Marine. Bacara said he was 'too soft for the field,' as if Coruscant were a rest posting and everything there was ceremonial and clean and safe. They had no idea what they were sending their brothers into. Fox did everything he could to keep these troopers alive. The other battalions might not want them before they were guardsmen now.

"Justice, report!" He heard the edge in his own voice and couldn't stop it.

"Little busy at the moment, Commander." Justice's calm crackled back through the static. Around Fox, the rooftop was coming apart piece by piece. A support strut gave way somewhere off to his left with a sound like a cannon shot, trailing sparks and a gout of orange flame that billowed thirty feet into the air before the wind took it. "Two shinies down over here, but they're still breathing. I've marked your coordinates. I'm trying to get them back on their feet."

Fox pressed his back to the shield and took a fast count of what he had left to work with. It wasn't enough. It was nowhere near enough.

Thorn's LAAT was gone. The wreckage still burned at the far edge of the landing pad, a gutted metal skeleton spitting flame, scattering glowing debris across the plastoid surface in trails that were slowly joining each other, spreading. The fire was moving. It would soon reach their position and when it did, it would find them exactly as they were now: pinned, ammunition low, no resupply, no air support, and CorSec refusing to send anyone after them.

The SBDs held the high ground on the roof superstructure. They were interspersed among an elevated lattice of exhaust towers and antenna housings. They had cover, although a number of them had come down to try to take them out up close. B1s poured through the access hatches in an unbroken stream, like water finding cracks. For every droid that went down, three more stepped over it. They had no reason to be careful, no reason to conserve, no reason to stop. They were machines. They didn't run out of nerve.

The Guard did not have that luxury.

Fox counted six brothers down in his line of sight, some moving, some not. He counted ammunition: two spares left on his belt, one rifle at half-charge, his sidearms. He didn't count what he didn't have. Droid poppers. Zero. Thermal detonators, zero. Heavy ordnance, zero. The Guard were police, not infantry. Their kits reflected it. Up here, against an entrenched droid army with elevated fire and a burning roof closing in on all sides, they were making do with the tools of crowd control against weapons of war. 

And they were still fighting.

A blur of green light arrived from the direction of the neighboring rooftop, and Fox could just somehow feel that Vos was near.

Vos came in fast and low, robes still smoking faintly at the hem, and didn't so much enter the firefight as become the center of it. He was limping, favoring his left side, the same side that had taken the rocket blast, and it didn't slow him down by a fraction that Fox could detect. The green blade caught a SBD's heavy cannon burst and redirected it in a precise arc back into the droid's own sensor cluster. He stayed carefully out of the way of Fox's men, somehow able to sense where they were and not get himself shot by friendly fire.  Fox had never seen anything like it.

Vos spun through a gap that shouldn't have existed and came out the other side already moving toward the next threat, like the rooftop itself was rearranging to let him through.

It was, Fox thought distantly, the single most extraordinary thing he had ever watched a living being do.

He realized he had stopped firing.

His rifle was still up, his stance was still correct, but his eyes had gone soft and wide behind his visor and he was simply watching, the way a shiny watched anything for the first time, slack-jawed and useless. Heat washed past his shoulder. A bolt he should have caught on his shield instead grazed close enough to scorch the plating, and that, finally, was what snapped him back into his own body.

He forced his eyes back to his own sector, back to the wall of advancing B1s that did not care in the slightest how impressive the General was, and put two bolts into the nearest droid with more force than strictly necessary, as if he could shoot the embarrassment out of his system along with the droid. He was the Fox. He'd started combat training by age two. He did not gawk at Jedi tricks in the middle of a firefight like some wide-eyed cadet fresh off the transport.

He was also, he noted with some private disgust at himself, going to need a moment later to examine exactly why it had been Vos, specifically, that had managed to pull his attention clean off a battlefield. Later. Not now.

Fox was so focused on taking down droids he somehow didn't notice Vos until he was almost on top of him. Then, the Jedi came down hard and fast from a high backward flip, dropping into the narrow cover of Fox's position and slamming his riot shield down to lock edges with Fox's own. The impact was solid. Purposeful. The shields locked perfectly, an instinct Vos shouldn't have had, like he'd always been training with the Coruscant Guard.

Up close, Fox could see what the rooftop hadn't let him see from a distance. Vos's robes were singed black along one shoulder. A line of blood tracked from his hairline. Fox wanted to ask if he was alright, but none of them were alright. They were on this inferno of a rooftop and they might all be dead in the next minute or two. So, he bit his tongue to hold the question back.

Vos looked down at Sixes. He closed his eyes in that particular way Fox was already learning meant he was taking some kind of reading. Fox wouldn't have dare ask this of the General, but he was already taking an interest in Sixes.

"Can you help him?" Fox hated how desperate his voice sounded. He hated more that he couldn't help it.

Vos nodded. "I'll try, Fox. I can maybe buy him a little time."

Fox nodded, not sure what to say when someone offered to use their unnatural gifts to save one of your brothers. So, he simply went back to his comfort zone, and focused on shooting droids.

He tracked the droids by threat level, not by count. Counting the droids was useless as there were always more. It was as if this factory had been churning out droids, and not speeders. There seemed to be an endless supply of them. 

He worked the line in controlled bursts, conserving every shot. Two bolts for a B1, center mass. One for a droid that was already compromised by someone else's fire. He stretched his ammunition against an arithmetic that kept getting worse. Somewhere behind him a section of the roof gave a deep, structural groan. He'd heard that sound before, it was the the kind of sound that preceded collapse. He felt the vibration of it through the soles of his boots.

Very soon the rooftop beneath them would also be giving way. He did not look back. He could not afford to look back.

He shot. He moved. He held the line.

When he dared a glance down at Sixes, the trooper's color had already improved.

Justice slid in on the other side, adding his shield to the wall, completing the cover. "Sixes, you slacking off again?"

The trooper's eyes opened. "The commander is..." the young trooper grimaced, "... gonna' make me... scrub the... freshers."

Justice snorted, and then was back to all business, running a scanner over the wound with practiced efficiency. He sprayed it with antiseptic without pausing to warn the trooper. Sixes moaned. Justice didn't look up. "You give him any painkillers yet?"

Fox shook his head. "I don't have any to give. I gave him a stim when he started drifting. It brought him back."

Justice nodded. "Good call." He pulled a hypo from his belt and checked the dosage. "I don't have a lot of these, so I must really think you're going to live, Sixes." He injected him and the trooper's expression eased. Justice turned to Fox. "I think we can get him back on his feet. We're trying to get all the wounded walking again." He gestured around to the intense firefight and then to the wreckage of Thorn's ship. "There's no way we can evac yet. So, some wounded we may have to carry."

"I can walk," Sixes said, with more conviction than evidence.

"Book!" Justice signaled without looking up, and the Guard trooper fired his way sideways across the gap, shield up, staying low. He slotted himself into place.

For just a moment, Book registered that his brother was down. His shoulders dropped a fraction. Then they were back up. "I'll get him out."

Justice finished his work and was already moving. "I'll sort you properly in medbay. Don't get shot again." And he was gone, back into the firefight, moving toward the next downed brother with the calm urgency of someone who had already decided the math of this situation wasn't going to beat him today.

Sixes pushed himself upright, jaw set, and slotted in beside Book.

Book gave him a look up and down. "Sixes, brother, where's your helmet and shield?" He asked it like they were discussing the food in the mess. Calm.

Sixes looked toward the wall of droids. "Over there."

Book didn't miss a beat. "Right, then, they can keep it. You'll stay behind my shield, alright?" 

They held. The line held. But, the rooftop would not hold. The structure would be coming down soon.

Vos leaned in close. Fox noticed now that the Jedi's breathing was pained. He so badly wanted to ask: Are you alright?  And, he couldn't even begin to explain why he was obsessed with the Jedi's welfare. Vos, to his credit, seemed less concerned with his own welfare. "If we can breach that recessed stairwell," he pointed with his chin toward a reinforced doorway set back into the base of the superstructure,"we can access the lower manufacturing floors. Thorn isn't here. He has to be down there." He assessed the spreading fire with a glance. "We have maybe four minutes before this entire rooftop lose integrity and comes down."

Four minutes. Sections of it wouldn't even last that long. "We need a diversion."

"That would be me." Vos' tone brokered no argument.

"Alright, I'll leave a squad with-" "Just me." Vos stared into Fox's eyes, with a look that said: I'll make it an order if I have to.

Fox looked at the Jedi with a lightsaber and a riot shield and the unreasonable, bone-deep calm of someone who had already run the numbers on his own odds and decided they were acceptable.

Fox was not a man who trusted easily. He was the Fox. The cleverest of his brothers, the one who survived by never, ever taking anything on faith. Every time he'd trusted the wrong thing, brothers had died.

But he'd watched this one fly off a gunship into open air for men he'd known less than a day. He'd watched him come back instead of staying safe.

"Alright," he said.

"Watch for traps." Vos said it quietly, directly. Not a general warning. Something specific. Then he launched himself upward.

There was no other word for it. He went up and out from cover like gravity was a suggestion, the green blade blazing wide, cutting across the entire elevated sightline of the droid superstructure in a single sweeping arc that drew every photoreceptor on the rooftop. The droids tracked him with mechanical unanimity, every weapon swinging to the single brightest, fastest, most kinetic target available. They were machines. They prioritized threat. 

Fox turned his back, swallowed something that felt uncomfortably close to dread on the General's behalf, and barked into the squad channels: "Move out! Secure the stairwell!"

He charged across the rooftop, leading the way.

They pushed through the smoke, through the heat, through the sick orange glow of burning sections of roof reflecting off visors, and they made the door.

Book had Sixes upright and somehow kept up with him. They were right behind him.

The stairwell was dark, unaccountably so, but they encountered no resistance. They charged down, weapons drawn, and Fox didn't stop to count his men until he reached the bottom. They'd lost two guardsmen on the rooftop, and the rest were with them as walking wounded, or being carried by their brothers.

It was almost too easy. 

The thought arrived cold and immediate. He stood in the dim of the lower manufacturing floor, surrounded by his brothers, the silence sudden after the roar of battle, and he felt it. It was the specific, tactical wrongness of a situation that had resolved itself without the cost it should have demanded.

Watch for traps.

Fox raised a fist. The Guard stopped.

In the dark ahead, something moved.

Rex received other visitors, although it was hard for him to stay awake for the visits. The fatigue persisted. If he wasn’t so exhausted, he likely would have worried he'd broken his body permanently.

The constant in his life used to be his duty. But, now the pace was completely different. He was here in this room and ordered to do nothing but rest. He was both surprised and not surprised by how much Ahsoka was willing to stay with him. 

At night, she slept curled up in the chair by his bedside, a strangely intimate act. Although for the few minutes he did wake up at night, he wished she could be even closer. He founded himself just watching her sleep.

For all the death and destruction he’d seen in his short lifetime, watching Ahsoka breathe deeply as she slept seemed to soothe something deep inside of him. He tried to memorize all of it, knowing these moments were fleeting. 

He’d be back out on the battlefield soon enough. Presumably. If he could ever manage to stand up again.

Ahsoka left during the day. He assumed this was to do her normal Jedi things. He didn’t ask. This was when Rex generally received a parade of visitors. He hoped none of his men took it personally when he fell asleep mid-conversation.

Kix came by two or three times a day to check on him, usually helped along by another trooper. More often than not, that trooper was Jesse.

Rex would pick up the pad containing Rex’s medical chart and study it intently.

Jesse met Rex’s eyes. “He’s not actually back on duty yet,” he gestured toward Kix.

“I’ve certified myself as being cleared to work half days,” Kix clarified.

Jesse rolled his eyes. “He’s still on leave until his leg heals. Don’t listen to him.”

Kix huffed and gingerly stretched out his leg. “I’m healing much faster now thanks to Mira.”

“Right, Mira.” Jesse folded his arms across his chest. “If you ask me, Kix is a bit too fond of his Jedi healer.” He leaned in toward Rex. “I’m a bit worried I’m going to lose him to the Jedi Healer Corps. He’s just going to run off and join their lot.”

“I’m not going to join the Jedi,” Kix grumbled, but then he and Jesse looked pointedly at Rex.

“What?” Rex asked, although he had a good idea what Kix and Jesse were implying.

Jesse leaned in. “We heard General Yoda came all this way because of you.”

“That’s on him,” Rex responded, trying to suppress a yawn. “Probably just wanted to investigate this whole Krell business.”

“I’m sure that’s why he’s here,” Jesse agreed. “But, I think he’s a lot more interested in you than the dead traitor chilling in two pieces in the morgue.” He gave Rex a significant look. “Everyone is still talking about it. The fight. What you did.”

“Alright, Jess, that’s enough,” Kix used the arms of the chair to push himself to his feet. He was getting into full-on defensive medic mode now. He grabbed Rex’s barely touched food tray and shoved it in Jesse’s hands. “He didn’t like this. Find himself something else.”

Rex wanted to object. It wasn’t the food. He just had no appetite. But, Jesse had already left, leaving him alone with Kix. 

“Sorry about that,” Kix said. “He means well.” The medic carefully eased himself back into the chair, not quite able to suppress a groan as he settled down.

“You alright?” Rex asked.

Kix laughed. “Says the person nearly sliced in half by Krell. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m healing. Just have a lot of broken bones, like most of the boys do after being tossed into a wall by Krell. Shatter injuries and whatnot. They take a while to heal.” He held up Rex’s chart on the datapad. “Hey, you get some of these numbers up, and maybe we can try standing up, yeah?”

Rex’s interest piqued, although in truth, he barely felt strong enough to even lift his head. “We could try it now.”

Kix lifted up an eyebrow. “According to these readings, you have a ways to go, Rex. Sorry.”

Rex sighed deeply. One stupid lightsaber battle, and suddenly he was weak as a newborn tooka.

Kix patted him on his good shoulder. “I’ll be by again later. Get some rest, alright?”

Rest was all he did. But, it didn’t seem to be doing much good.

Jesse did leave him another tray, but he ignored that one, too. He didn’t even look at the food.

Fives came in, accompanied by his healer, Mélé. He was in a fine mood, and it was a pleasure to just listen to him go on. “Mélé designed a custom therapy just for me. Something I’d find both interesting and challenge. So, I’m working with Feeeeeek and the boys to rewire an entire repo of deactivated B1s in the east wing.  Mélé comes by all the time to check on me and lend a hand.” He shot her another fond look.

Mélé chose to look straight ahead, although there was a slight flush to her cheeks. “Lieutenant Fives is making excellent progress. I discovered he recovers best when he is… enthusiastic about the task at hand.”

Rex chose that to mean the reconstruction of the droids and did not read any deeper into it.

“Hey, are you going to eat that?” he pointed to Rex’s food tray. Rex shook his head, and Fives left with the food tray in hand, already popping bites of food in his mouth. Rex missed the days when he had a typical clone appetite, always hungry. Yet another thing he seemed to have lost after the fight with Krell.

Echo came by daily to give him reports on the men. Repairs to the hangar were nearly complete from the battle with Krell, and morale among the men was excellent. “It helps a lot that the Jedi are here,” he admitted. “General Offee and her crew are going out of their way to make things better for us. General Yoda brought additional crew for the control center.” His brow furrowed. “I was told to take an afternoon off.” He looked at Rex puzzled. “What does one do on an afternoon off?”

Rex gave him a fond smile. “In your case, probably read a manual.” He yawned hugely. “For me, all I seem to do these days is sleep.”

Kix came by again later, as promised, this time helped along by his Jedi healer. Jesse was right. He did seem impressed by his Jedi healer, and Kix was not an easy one to impress. 

He fell asleep at some point during the conversation, and when he woke up again Ahsoka had returned.

“Good day?” she asked him.

“A lot of visitors,” he admitted, poking at the latest tray of food Jesse had brought by. He gave up and pushed his small table aside. “Where did all these Jedi healers come from? I thought all the Jedi were deployed on the front lines?”

"Many of them came from the AgriCorps," Ahsoka explained, taking interest in his tray. "It was the only place Barriss could find that many available healers not involved in the war already." She took a bite of something, looked thoughtful, and then handed another piece of it to Rex. He shook his head.

"Botanists?" Rex questioned, more interested in the conversation than the food.

It did explain why many of them had that healthy glow of spending a good deal of time outdoors. 

"In a way." Ahsoka set the food aside and made herself comfortable in her favorite chair. "There are four branches to the Service Corps of the Jedi Order. I won't go into too much detail because you'll fall asleep on me before I get through it all."

Rex huffed lightly at her dry humor and her subtle jab at his inability to stay awake. He enjoyed her teasing. He'd missed it. It made him feel whole again. "How does a Jedi end up in the Service Corps rather than..." He made a vague gesture toward Ahsoka with his uninjured hand. "Like you. Assigned at a very early age to the front lines to serve alongside Anakin Skywalker."

"They fail their Trials," Ahsoka said simply. “And, I was fourteen when I was assigned at Christophsis. Four years older than you.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I was more than old enough to be a commander.”

“You weren’t even as tall as my elbow-” started Rex.

“Not true! I’m sure I came up at least as tall as your shoulder. I was ready to lead-”

"There's more ways for a Jedi to help people than by leading an army." Barriss' voice from the doorway startled both of them. 

Rex had vague memories of Barriss coming to check on him, but he’d been barely conscious through most of her checks. Mostly, he remembered her from when they’d fought together at the Battle of Kaz’haria. 

She seemed different now, radiating a new sense of confidence, calm, and contentment that had not been there in the Barriss of old.

She came in and placed her hands above Rex's injured shoulder, not speaking for a moment, doing that human scanner thing that Jedi were so good at doing.

Her face revealed nothing. She moved on to his chest, and then the foot Krell had stomped. 

"How do you feel about your progress, Captain?"

"Slow," Rex admitted, somehow willing to be honest in the presence of Barriss, "normally I'm a fast healer. I can’t seem to shake this fatigue. Kix said my numbers are so low I can’t stand up.”

Barriss huffed with amusement. “Yes, Kix can’t seem to stop working.” She sounded more amused than annoyed by this fact, and Rex was very grateful for her tolerance of his medic's ways. 

She closed her eyes, focusing, as she continued her scan.

Rex watched her intently, waiting for her prognosis.

"Mmmm." Barriss regarded him with her calm gaze, and Rex always felt like she was seeing more than she let on. She studied Ahsoka, who met her gaze steadily  "Let's try something new. Nighttimes. Your door is closed. Twenty hundred hours to oh-eight hundred. No visits from healers. You seem to have others who…" She paused, meet Ahsoka’s gaze again, choosing her words carefully, “...watch over you."

Ahsoka and Rex exchanged a surprised glance after she left.

"I'll be right back." Ahsoka left, returning a few minutes later with a bundle in her arms. 

At 2200, she closed the door to the corridor, and disappeared into his attached refresher. It suddenly felt very intimate in the room.

He could hear her showering, which did all manner of things to his imagination. She emerged in a night garment, closing the door at exactly 20:00 with a wave of her hand.

"Bedtime. Healer's orders." She dimmed the lights and lifted up his sheets. "Do you mind sharing?"

Rex smiled broadly. He scooted himself over as best he could with his limited mobility and lifted up his good arm.

Ahsoka slid in and rested her head against his chest with a sigh.

"Let me know if I press on anything uncomfortable." Ahsoka's voice was already sleepy.

Rex huffed with humor. "Uhhh…. right." He leaned his head down so it was resting on top of her montrals and was asleep within seconds.

It was his best night’s sleep since being assigned to Krell.

Neither of them stirred until Barriss came in shortly before 0800 with a pot of caf and three cups. “Feeling better?” she asked, pouring them each a cup. 

Rex blinked at her blearily. Ahsoka and Barriss helped him set up and he took a long dreg of the caf with a satisfied sigh. He did a quick self-analysis. "I do feel stronger." He flexed his limbs, as best he could with his injuries. Everything that he could move was more responsive now. He looked at Barriss, puzzled. "Why did that work? How did you know?"

"Co-sleeping has all manner of benefits." She settled into the chair and refreshed her cup of caf. "I've been using it with Cody."

Rex’s choked on his caf, and then took another sip, more slowly. “With… Cody,” he repeated trying to suppress a grin.

“He, too, suffered from Force exhaustion, although we didn’t pick up on it, at first, as it was masked by his other injuries. He’s recovering much more quickly now.” Barriss sounded very pleased to give this prognosis.

The door was still closed and Rex realized they could speak openly. "Eh, thank you for thinking of it… as a therapy… for me, as well.” 

Ahsoka was sitting cross-legged now, next to him, a very Jedi pose. Yawning and sipping her caf.

"We will continue this arrangement." Barriss drained her cup and rose, proceeding to do her usual scanning motion of Rex. “I may need to write a paper about this form of healing.”

Rex’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Not naming the participants, of course,” Barriss clarified. She tapped his medical datapad. “For now, the orders in your records are very clear. You are not to be disturbed at night.”

For the first time, Rex was suddenly in no great hurry to be released from the medical wing. For the first time, he was willing to let recovery take its course.

"Thank you," he repeated again, at a loss for anything else to say.

Barriss nodded and rose. "Ahsoka." Her voice had a certain tone to it.

"Understood." Ahsoka rose, grabbed her bundle of clothes and headed off to the refresher.

Barriss continued her examination, taking notes on Rex’s file.

When Ahsoka emerged, Barriss pointed to a cabinet. "You can store your things there. As far as I'm concerned, you are part of the captain's recovery plan." She turned back to Rex. “Congratulations, Captain. You are significantly improved.”

With that, she retrieved their caf cups and left the room, leaving the door open this time.

Rex grinned. “I like this new therapy.”

Ahsoka grinned back. "The Force works in mysterious ways." Her smile disappeared. “I have to head up to the Resolute today. I trust the boys will keep you plenty busy.”

“Always, but anything I should be concerned about?”

“Maybe.” She glanced out the door to see if anyone was passing by. The coast was clear. She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “We’ll talk about it this evening.”

Kix came limped in on his own an hour, moving slowly and carefully. He checked the numbers on Rex’s chart. “Whoa. This is the biggest improvement to date. What did you do?”

“Eh…” Rex didn’t want to go into details on his co-sleeping arrangements with Ahsoka. “Healer Barriss suggested closing the door so I could get better sleep. It worked. I slept a lot more deeply.”

“Let’s give it another day, but tomorrow let’s get you up standing. This is the biggest gain you’ve had since you arrived here.” He patted Rex on his uninjured shoulder. “Well done.”

Rex wasn’t sure he’d actually done anything, other than hold Ahsoka all night long and have some of the best sleep he could remember. “Uh…. thanks.”

He was eager for Ahsoka to return and curious about what might be happening on the Resolute. With the return of some of his energy, he was eager now to be of use.

His appetite had also returned. Jesse came by a few minutes later, carrying a breakfast tray with an assortment of items. “I thought maybe if I brought you a little bit of everything, something might pique your interest.”

“That looks good, actually,” Rex said, surprising both Kix and Jesse. He made quick work of the food on the tray. As he finished the last breakfast fritter, he asked: “Did the Jedi bring this food? It tastes very different from what we usually get.”

Kix nodded. “The healers brought in many crates of it, and then General Yoda brought in even more. We’re well stocked now. And, all of it is loads better than our usual fare.”

Huh. It just took having a homicidal General for them to actually get us decent rations. Rex swallowed down the thought, not wanting to ruin the moment with his brothers.

“I don’t think Healer Barriss will mind if I make some notes in your file,” he typed away, looking very pleased to be doing medic things again. “Appetite has returned…” he muttered, and continued typing.

Jesse looked at Rex and then at Kix, his face shifting to something very different when he looked at Kix.

When Ahsoka returned in the evening, she looked tired. “What happened?” Rex asked immediately. Without even thinking about it, he made a casual gesture with one hand, and the door swished shut.

Ahsoka raised up an eyebrow, but said nothing, settling into her chair with a sigh. “Admiral Yularen still wants Appo to go through a formal trial because of defying his orders.” 

“He saved all of our lives!” Rex balked. His dinner tray was sitting several feet away, empty, but it rattled slightly with his ire.

Ahsoka lifted another eyebrow.

Rex growled under his breath, outraged on behalf of Appo, thinking he often did not understand Yularen and how the man thought.

The rattling grew louder.

“Rex,” Ahsoka pressed a hand on his bare chest, “listen to me. Breathe deeply. You’re upset. But, I’m not sure you realize how easily you channel the Force now.”

“What?” Rex looked at her confused, not sure what that rattling noise was.

“It’s very important you get this under control or we’ll have Master Plo, Master Windu and Master Yoda all in here in another minute.” 

Rex stared at her like she’d gone mad. She was not kidding. He closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing, just like she’d taught him back on the Resolute. It felt like years ago now. He felt a sense of calm flowing through him. The noise immediately ceased.

“That’s it. Very good.” Her hand lightly stroked his chest and now a whole host of new emotions started flowing through him. “You’ll need to learn to balance all of these emotions. I know both Master Plo and Master Yoda wish to help you with it. They were just waiting for you to regain your strength.”

Rex groaned. “I’m not looking forward to that…. The training part, I mean.” He put his hand on top of hers, brushing his fingertips across the back of her palm. “This new therapy from Barriss? I like that very much.”

Ahsoka smiled. “I’m going to get ready for bed, and then we can talk about Appo.”

Rex rolled his eyes. “Just what I want to talk about in bed. Appo.”

Ahsoka laughed. “Glad to see your sense of humor has returned. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared off into the refresher, and Rex tried to keep his imagination from going wild as he listened to her shower.

She returned, smelling of Republic-issue soap. It always smelled different on her, and somehow so much better than it did on his brothers.

“Tell me about Appo,” Rex asked, although he was already feeling sleepy. 

“I've got it under control, Rex,” she assured him. “He asked me to represent him in his trial.”

Rex frowned. “He shouldn’t be going to trial at all.”

Ahsoka yawned hugely. “But, Yularen wants to make an example of him. He can be… intractable sometimes in following regulations.”

“But, Anakin- General Skywalker- he released Appo and the others from their cell,” Rex objected.

“He did,” Ahsoka agreed, “and, unfortunately, Anakin has returned back to the Core on some business. He wouldn’t say what. So, this is falling to me.” She leaned up on his chest. “If it’s alright with you, I want to forget about it until morning. Just enjoy this moment of being with you. I don’t want to think about Appo. Or, Anakin. Or Yularen.”

Fair enough. The last thing Rex wanted to think about when he had Ahsoka in bed with him was Admiral Yularen.

He tucked Ahsoka into a comfortable position on his chest, kissed her montrals and they both fell asleep quickly.

Ahsoka was gone when he woke up the next day. He was disappointed with himself that he hadn’t heard her wake up. 

He considered trying to stand on his own and see if he could make it to the shower. But, Healer Barriss came in early to check on him. He could barely sit still for her exam. “You’re fidgety today,” Barriss observed.

“Ahsoka is up on the Resolute, overseeing a trial,” Rex said, hissing as Barriss pressed on his shoulder. He looked down. “That’s good, right? I could feel that?”

Barriss nodded. “Yes, your nerves are continuing to regenerate.” She poked and prodded his arm all the way down to the fingertips. “Still nothing below the elbow, though.”

“Will that come back?” He asked, getting terrible flashbacks of what had happened with his knee.

“Hard to say. Lightsaber wounds are very complex. With your strength returning, maybe we can get you more involved in the healing process.” Instead of binding his arm back to his chest, Barriss placed his arm in a simple sling. Rex sighed in relief from the greater comfort of it.

As soon as she left, Rex eyed the refresher again, wondering if he could safely walk that short distance.

Kix, Fives and Echo came in, wearing dress uniforms. “We’re going up to the Resolute for Appo’s trial.”

Rex threw his covers aside. “Not without me, you’re not.”

“We figured you’d say that,” Fives grinned. “Jesse is out trying to find more uniforms.” He tugged at his dress uniform. All of these were borrowed from the boys in the 104th.”

“While he does that, get me in the fresher. I don’t know when the last time I had more than a sponging off from a healer,” Rex griped.

“Lucky,” Fives muttered under his breath.

Rex ignored the comment.

Standing up was harder than he expected, and he would’ve fallen if not for the support of his brothers.

“Is he ready for this?” Echo asked Kix.

“I am,” Rex insisted. “Besides, I have you three to get me there.”

“Make that four,” Jesse said, entering the room, holding up an extra dress uniform. “Sinker and Boost came through again. We owe those boys.”

A quick shower helped tremendously, although he probably wasn’t in the sonic for more than 30 seconds. He was very eager to get going.

As the only uninjured ones, Echo and Jesse helped him along. Echo slid an arm around his waist and Jesse firmly gripped his uninjured elbow.

#

“They are moving fast,” Fives muttered, monitoring the court room proceedings on his datapad, as they made their way up to the Resolute. “Yularen is saying this is an iron-clad case and they should go ahead and proceed to the sentencing.”

He quickly swiped screens and tapped out a message to Ahsoka.

FIVES TO AHSOKA: Stall. I am bringing another witness. Inside the courtroom, Ahsoka interrupted Yularen mid-sentence. “Excuse me, Admiral, I wish to ask for a recess.”

Yularen’s face showed his annoyance. “This is highly irregular, Commander Tano.”

Ahsoka nodded. “Everything about this case is unusual, Admiral. Just twenty minutes, if you please.”

Yularen stared her down. “You have ten minutes, no more. We will take a short recess.”

He spun on his heel and exited the room. AHSOKA TO FIVES: I could only get you ten minutes. This better be good. Yularen is good and angry now.

FIVES TO AHSOKA: It will be worth it. I promise.

The ten minutes passed by much too quickly. Ahsoka tried to reassure Appo, but she had no idea what Fives was working on. With Fives, it could be anything. Yularen returned, giving Ahsoka a quelling look. “If there are no more interruptions, we will proceed with the plea and the sentencing. “Commander Appo, how do you plea-”

The door swished open and Rex and his four companions all came in as one clump of clone trooper. They hurried in and then pulled up short taking in the scene.

Rex stared at Yularen, then Appo, then Ahsoka. He decided to take charge. “Not guilty, Admiral! The plea is not guilty!”

Ahsoka smiled. Rex had a knack for a dramatic entrance.

In the end, Appo’s charges were dismissed. Rex had risen to high-war hero status now, almost equivalent to that of General Kenobi and Skywalker. It would be very difficult at this point to oppose him and Yularen knew it. 

With Rex vouching for Appo, he could not insist on the sentencing.

“I will have to insist on some form of punishment, though, you are hereby demoted to Captain, effective immediately.”

Rex gave Yularen a quelling look, but Appo held up a hand. “Accepted. Thank you, Admiral. And, I assure you, it will not happen again.”

“It better not, or there will be no eleventh-hour save next time,” he spun on his heel and left the conference room.

Ahsoka pressed a hand to Rex. “I’ll meet you back at the surface.” She departed the conference room.

Appo turned to Rex. “Thank you! I did not expect to see you here, Rex.”

“I’m sorry I could not save your title, Appo,” Rex clapped Appo on the shoulder. “You did a fine job on the bridge, and I will see if we can keep you there.”

“Actually, Commander Rex, if it’s alright with you, I would prefer to be back on the ground with the rest of you. What I realized in that moment when you were all almost wiped out is that I should be there. Even if it meant getting destroyed with all of you, my place was there. In the trenches. With the 501st.”

Rex and Appo locked eyes in understanding. 

“I could use another Captain, especially one I could trust. Thank you, Appo. You’ll be a valuable addition to the ground forces. Why don’t you catch a ride with us back down to Anaxes. Echo will find you some quarters.”

Appo hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the direction in which the Admiral had departed. “Should I… inform Yularen?”

Rex smiled. “He’s already good and mad at us. Let’s just add it to the list.” He looked over at Fives. “Lieutenant, compose a note I can send to the Admiral informing him of Appo’s transfer effective immediately.”

He looked at Appo in his bridge officer’s uniform. “You want to wear that or change into some armor? We’re headed back to the surface.” Appo grinned. “I’ll meet you at the hangar bay.”

“Make it twenty minutes,” Rex called after him Appo’s retreating back. “I could use a quick cup of caf.”

His energy was flagging, and he feared without caf he couldn’t even make the walk back to the shuttle. 

He hadn’t counted on being stopped by every trooper they passed in the corridor on the way to the mess.

“You’re the closest thing to a holostar we have in the GAR,” Fives observed with a grin. “You may need to sign my armor.” 

The trooper nearest Rex, who was taking a bucket selfie, stared at Fives like he was a genius. “I’ll get a marking device!” He ran off.

“I’m not waiting,” Rex shook his head, as he spied another group of troopers hurrying toward them. “Come on, mess hall. I’m not standing here for more ‘bucket selfies.’”

Echo muttered to Fives under his breath. “Like it’s going to be any better in the mess.”

The mess hall erupted into cheers the moment Rex showed up with the others. And, word spread like rapidfire that he was onboard. The room started getting more crowded by the minute.

The only way Rex ended up getting any caf at all was Kix grabbing it for him and then pushing him down into a chair to rest. 

Fives and Echo kept the troopers at bay so Rex could at least drink a cup in relative peace. Fives kept the gathered troopers entertained with a vivid recounting of what it was like for him at the Battle of Krell. “I didn’t remember anything after he threw me into that ship,” Fives finished. He hooked a thumb back at Rex. “But, apparently, the Commander here saved my life. I’ve watched the replay of it several times.” He locked eyes with Rex. “It’s…. Incredible.”

Rex swallowed. He didn’t know that Fives had watched a replay. So much of the fight was still a blur to him. He had yet to watch a replay, although he heard there were numerous versions of it out there.

Kix placed a sandwich down in front of him and Jesse refilled his caf cup. He wasn’t used to this treatment. Echo glanced over, noticed that Rex now had something to eat, and stalled for time, launching into his vivid recounting of what it was like to be there when Krell had gone mad. All these troopers had been on the other side of the blockade so none had witnessed it firsthand. There was silence in the mess hall as they listened to the stories. And, Fives and Echo were both very good storytellers.

Getting back to the hangar deck did not turn out to be such an easy task as they ran into the original hallway trooper, who’d managed to find a traditional stylus. And, he’d brought his entire squad. Rex scrawled his name quickly on their chest plates, hoping that would be the end of it and he could make it back to the hangar. Before he’d gone another two corridors, the trooper was back with two more squads. 

Appo found them, and quickly lined them up, so Rex could sign, but then said loudly: “No more! We are due back at the surface. The commander must go. Consider yourselves lucky. Now back to duty. All of you!”

The authority rang from his voice and the troopers scurried off.

“Nice one, Captain,” Rex said to him, “keep that up and you’re going to get promoted again.”

“I think I’m where I need to be,” Appo said, his voice completely sincere. 

After they were settled back on the shuttle, he fell asleep almost immediately. He didn’t even remember clearing the shuttle bay.

Ahsoka was there when he returned to Anaxes, helping him walk back to his room. Their room. He enjoyed the walk, leaning into her, taking his time. “You were magnificent,”she teased, “barging in there like that.” She glanced over at him. “Wearing your dress uniform, no less.” She looked him up and down, in a look he’d come to realize was her appreciative look.

Rex chuckled. “This is borrowed. I have nothing except my armor, and that’s shattered. I’ll need to get most of it replaced. Anything else I own is still on the Resolute.” He realized then it hadn’t occurred to him to grab anything from his office or his quarters while he’d been back on the ship. Somehow the ship didn’t seem like home base anymore.

They arrived back at the small room he never shared with Ahsoka and he sighed with relief.

“Want me to help you get undressed?” she asked, eyeing the dress uniform.

He grinned. “That is tempting.” He considered. “I think I’ll keep it on, though. You seem to like it.” There was teasing in his eyes. He yawned widely, feeling he’d pushed himself past his limits. “I’m going to rest, and then maybe later we can have a meal in the mess?”

Ahsoka’s eyes lit up. She whispered in his ear, her lips so close he shivered. “Why, Commander Rex. Are you asking me out on a date?”

He stared at her. He wouldn’t even know how to do such a thing. He just thought since he was already dressed up, and it had actually been fun, in its own crazy way, seeing everyone in the mess aboard the Resolute, that Ahsoka might like- “Yes,” he said, looking into her eyes, determined to make the most of every moment. 

Without meaning to, the mad General Krell had granted Rex the closest thing he’d ever had to a genuine break from the fighting. Rex was not going to waste the opportunity by worrying and overthinking the future. For once, he was simply going to appreciate the moments as they came to him.

Because if there was one thing he’d learned in this war, these fleeting moments did not last. 

#

His dinner date turned into a promotion party.

They hadn’t been in the mess more than ten minutes before large numbers of troopers started showing up. First, it was all the troopers from Fort Anaxes. But, as time went on, Rex realized troopers from the fleet were coming down to join them. And, someone brought distilled alcohol. A lot of it.

Somehow, the mess hall accommodated all of it, with the droids constantly making food, although the party was definitely spilling out into the corridors. 

And, his new Captain, Appo, was already falling under the bad influences of Fives and Echo. The three of them rounded up every marking device on the base and started handing them out. 

Word had already spread from ship to planet about Rex signing a few pieces of armor, so this was now a hot item.

Rex decided to just go with all of it, accepting the latest drink shoved in his hand. 

“Brewed by the 91st!” a trooper told him proudly, before stumbling off.

Rex took a sip and it almost made his eyes cross. He set the cup down.

He signed whenever a marking device was pushed at him, and a trooper pleaded with him to sign their chest plate. Or, shoulder armor. Or, backplate. But, he did have his limitations.

“No, Fives, for the last time, I will not sign your butt plate.”

Fives, Echo and Kix had changed out of their dress uniforms, back into armor.  But, for once, Rex was content to be in a soft uniform. Maybe it was because Ahsoka was standing so close to him in the crowded room and he could feel her pressed up against him. There were things you could feel in a soft uniform that you could not feel in armor. 

Plus, Ahsoka kept smiling at him, giving him that look. That look that made him feel invincible. 

As the night wore on, and more troopers asked him to sign their armor, he noticed his scrawl was getting bigger and bolder, like he was openly defying Krell with just his name.

“Echo, for fek’s sake, will you hold Fives?” Rex’s voice was slightly slurred at this point and he’d lost track of just how many drinks had been shoved into his hand. He downed the rest of his current drink, a speciality brew made by the 104th, and called for a marking device. One was immediately shoved into his hand. He scrawled his name across Fives’ face while the ARC squawked in protest. “There. Now, you have another tattoo.”

The mass of troopers gathered found this to be uproariously funny. And, Rex tossed his head back and laughed with them. It was a good moment.

“And, what is going on here?” 

The music stopped with a screech. The authoritative voice from the doorway stopped everyone in their tracks, and troopers scrambled to stand to attention.

Rex did no such thing. He launched himself at his brother. “Cody!”

He embraced his brother, thumping him on the back and nearly setting him off-balance.

“Get off me, you big Bantha,” grumbled Cody, affectionately. He pushed Rex back, albeit more gingerly than normal and studied him head to toe. “And, here they told me you were injured. You look alright to me, other than this dramatic sling of yours.”

Every trooper in the mess hall was watching, still standing at attention, and most had a grin as they watched the scene.

“At ease,” Cody growled.

The music immediately started up again and the conversations resumed.

Rex grinned and tugged on Cody’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.” Cody walked with a limp, but somehow he managed to turn it into a swagger, and he was back in full armor.

He then noticed the Jedi standing behind Cody, looking a bit more flushed than usual. “Healer Barriss! So happy you could join us.”  

Ahsoka came forward and tugged on Barriss’ arm, drawing her forward into the room. The four of them settled at a table and were plied with drinks and plates of food.

“So, they finally made you a Commander,” Cody said between bites of food. “About fekkin’ time.”

Rex grinned, too deep in his cups to care about any of it. “I always had the responsibilities of a commander. Just not the title. It never mattered.”

“It mattered to me. I’m glad you’re getting the recognition you deserve.” He held up his cup and said loudly. “To Commander Rex!”

The room joined in. “To Commander Rex!” 

This turned into a number of toasts. Rex noticed Cody was different around Barriss. He was warmer. Playful even. Barriss, for her part, maintained the role of a good Jedi. But, her eyes drifted to Cody, especially when he tossed his head back and laughed. He looked completely different when he laughed and it was a look Rex had not seen on his brother in a long time.

By the time they stumbled back to their shared room, Rex could barely keep his eyes open, things were spinning a bit. He didn’t much care. It had been a very good night.

“Are you going to sleep in those clothes?” Ahsoka asked when he just flopped down on the bed.

Rex grunted, almost asleep already.

But, his body managed to wake up when he felt hands on him, tugging off his boots, and working at the belt on his pants. He peered open one eye. “Commander Tano, are you… undressing me?” he asked, sleepily.

“You’ll be more comfortable,” she said, although there was a mischievous note in her voice. 

Rex sat up to help with the effort the best he could. His one arm was still not functional, although now bound in a sling, which was a lot easier than being bound to his chest.

Ahsoka gently eased off the sling and tugged off his dress jacket and the crisp shirt underneath it, revealing his bare chest. She pressed her lips to the long puckered scar left by Krell’s lightsaber. Rex looked down at her in surprise, wishing he could feel all of what she was doing. The lightsaber burn had left him with numb areas.

She moved her lips over and kissed him in the center of his chest. He felt that.

He tipped her chin up and kissed her long and slow and deeply. 

Ahsoka growled and clambered on top of him, leaning down and kissing him back, revealing everything in her kiss.

Rex pulled back first. “I want….” He sighed. “I want… this… you.” He shifted his hips slightly, rolling them, letting her feel how much his body desired her. He brushed the back of his one good hand against her cheek, and then took one of her montrals and brushed his lips along it.

Ahsoka sucked in her breath.

“You know it’s because I want you so much that I won’t go any further. I… “ he wanted to say he loved her. But, it was too hard to get the words out. He hadn’t been raised with such words. He tried to show her with his actions. He continued to kiss and suckle at her montrals, finding it hard to stop.

Ahsoka moaned. “For someone who doesn’t want to go any further, you are saying one thing and your lips are saying another.” She rolled her hips against his own.

Rex groaned at the contact. “I know.” He shifted his hips, settling her more perfectly against him, enjoying the feel of her. They fit so perfectly together. He looked into her eyes. “Ahsoka, one day, when this is all over…” She stared at him intently in the dark. He tried to choose his words carefully. He had no idea how the war would end. It often felt like it would never end, as if those pulling the strings were intentionally dragging it out so the Republic was losing battles they should be winning. “I…. want to be with you.” He took one of her hands and brushed his lips against it. “I… “ OK, this would be a good time to tell her how he felt. And, instead he said: “I have nothing to offer you.”

Ahsoka leaned down and kissed him so long he wasn’t sure he could hold himself back from stripping off the clothing still remaining between them. It was Ahsoka who pulled back this time, and she looked into his eyes. “You have everything to offer me, Rex. And, I will go with you, anywhere.”

Rex’s heart filled with joy, at the same time as doubts and questions crept in. “But, your vows, the order, the Jedi…”

“The Jedi Order is not a prison. I can leave.”

Even as she said it, Rex could hear the pain in her voice, along with the conviction, and he knew he could not ask this thing of her, not ask her to give up such a fundamental piece of herself.

She sighed. “I see your doubts. We will work this out. But we don’t have to work this out tonight. You’re exhausted.” She peeled off her most of her clothes, dropping them carelessly to the floor, until she was just in her undergarments.

She leaned down again,  but this time just brushed her lips along his nose, light and teasing, before curling up against his chest, in her customary sleeping position. “We’re going to figure this out, Rex.” She traced her hands along his bare chest. “And, sometimes you just have to trust in the Force. It works in mysterious ways.”

#

Rex didn’t know about the Force, but Barriss Offee was a Force to be reckoned with. The morning after the party, and Appo’s trial, Barriss kept everyone away from their room. It was nearly 0930 before she came in with her usual pot of caf, startling them both awake with her booming greeting. “Good morning!”

She stood at the side of the bed. “Ahsoka! For Force sake, put some clothes on!”

Ahsoka sat up, and Rex had difficulties focusing on anything but staring at her. She rose from the bed, facing her fellow Jedi, looking regal, even in just her undergarments. “We were just sleeping. Nothing more.”

“Well, that’s not my business,” Barriss remarked, in a tone that showed she meant it, “but, it is morning and you do need to get dressed. Come on, off with you to the refresher. Go!”

Rex watched her scurry off to the refresher, wishing it was the sight he could see everyday for the rest of his days.

“Stop staring, Commander,” Barriss blocked his sight. She handed him a cup of caf. He considered asking the healer if co-showering had as many benefits as co-sleeping, but decided against it. He sipped his caf in silence. He wondered if he could ask Cody.

Barriss had already finished her caf and was back to the business of being a healer. “So, Rex, your energy levels were good yesterday. The best they’ve been since you were injured. Today, we begin your therapy.”

Therapy did not sound like nearly as much fun as rescuing Appo, visiting his men on the Resolute, drinking until late in the mess hall, and rediscovering how amazing it was to kiss Ahsoka Tano. But, he nodded, fortifying himself with caf, like he was taking in a new battle plan. “Therapy, yes, of course.”

Barriss checked her chrono. “Ahsoka, finish up and get dressed. Then, find someplace to be.” She addressed Rex directly. “Rex, you have two visitors coming who have volunteered to take charge of your therapy.”

Rex did not like the sound of this, at all. 

#

Ahsoka just watched Rex sleep.

He'd been asleep nearly constantly since returning from the Resolute. Since the medbay was full, he'd been placed in a private room in the west wing of the fort. It was part of the designated area the healers had blocked off as the Healing Wing.

Ahsoka liked it here. It felt different from the rest of the fort. Less military, and more like the Jedi Temple. She hadn't realized she'd missed the Temple, the serenity of it, until she was surrounded by that feeling now.

She heard the familiar tap of a gimer stick coming down the corridor.

"Still sleeps, does he?"

It was a rhetorical question. Rex was very obviously asleep.

Yoda leaned on his gimer stick and joined her in her vigil, studying the 501st Captain with quiet attention. After a moment he closed his eyes. His breathing evened out. Ahsoka wasn't sure if he was meditating or sleeping.

"Awake, I am," Yoda confirmed, with his uncanny ability to perceive the thoughts of others. He'd told her long ago that he did not read minds without permission. It was simply eight hundred years of interacting with people.

"Experience is the best teacher," Ahsoka murmured, and then startled at the sound of her own voice, not realizing she'd spoken it out loud. It was one of the first things Rex had ever said to her.

"It is," Yoda agreed.

"That's my line," croaked a voice from the bed.

Rex's eyes had opened a slit. He was regarding the two of them. The look he flashed to Ahsoka was completely different from the one he gave the Jedi General. Ahsoka received warmth and something close to relief. The General was regarded coolly, distantly, as if Rex were still wearing his helmet even though his armor was nowhere to be seen.

"How do you feel?" Ahsoka handed him an electrolyte pouch. His hand shook when he took it. She placed her hand over his and guided it to his lips.

Yoda watched the interaction with great interest.

Rex drank slowly. Nodded to Ahsoka when he'd had enough. He sank his head back into the pillow and sighed. "Weak. Exhausted. I keep sleeping but I'm not getting my strength back." He made an attempt to push himself upright. His arm didn't cooperate and he didn't get far. "Maybe I need to hit the gym."

"Force exhaustion, you have," Yoda declared definitively. "Dangerous it is. Long time does it take to recover."

Rex's brow furrowed. "Never heard of it."

Ahsoka placed a hand on his good arm as she explained, an action that did not go unnoticed by the Jedi Master. "When you overextend yourself in the Force, push far beyond your abilities or training, you can fatigue your body so severely it causes organ failure. Adrenal collapse. A heart attack."

"None of that happened," Rex objected. "I'm fine. I just defended the men against Krell."

"Using the Force," Ahsoka inserted.

"Important it is," Yoda said, "for you to acknowledge what you did, Captain."

Rex gazed steadily at Yoda. “Am I to be court martialed, General Yoda? Is that why you came here? To oversee my trial?” 

Yoda looked genuinely taken aback. “Explain you will, your logic.”

"I struck a superior officer. Repeatedly. I am guilty of insubordination. Attempted mutiny. Sir, if I may, any actions the men took were on my orders. They bear no responsibility. It is all on me and me alone.”

Yoda and Ahsoka exchanged a look.

Rex’s brow furrowed, looking back and forth between them. “Am I missing something?”

Ahsoka put a hand on his arm. "We were going to wait until Anakin returns from Coruscant, but..." She paused, and now Rex sensed she was just drawing it out intentionally, for dramatic effect. His dread changed into curiosity.

“What?” he demanded. “Ahsoka, what is it?” In his curiosity to know, he forgot about titles and formalities.

Ahsoka smiled broadly. "You're being promoted to Commander."

Now it was Rex's turn to be completely taken aback. He was stunned into silence.

"A ceremony, there will be, once you have recovered," Yoda wore a look of satisfaction and amusement. "Planning a celebration, your troops are.”

"A large one, if Fives has his way," Ahsoka murmured.

Something shifted inside Rex as he stared at the two of them. General Plo had tried to tell him he would not be punished for his actions, but Rex hadn't let himself believe it.

"Time there will be to talk more of your future," Yoda said. “Much there is still to discuss. Rest, Commander."

He tapped his gimer stick twice against the stone floor and walked out, leaving the two of them alone.

Rex regarded Ahsoka, who could not stop smiling. He was not quite able to suppress an exhausted yawn. "You realize," he started, "how confusing it will be with both of us called Commander?"

She laughed. Actually laughed, and the sound of it did something good to the room.

He was asleep again before the echo of it faded.

Ahsoka was still there when he woke again, although she was curled up asleep in the chair next to his bed.

At some point, someone, likely General Offee, had located a more comfortable chair. The one Ahsoka was curled in now was bigger, padded, suited for someone who had essentially set up a vigil in his room. A folded blanket had been draped over her at some point. He didn't know when.

He didn't mind any of it. He'd missed her, and he would take every minute he could get with Ahsoka, even if he could not stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time.

Force exhaustion.

He mulled over the term. Did he really have such a thing? This did feel different from injuries he'd suffered in the past. His shoulder was still healing, still immobilized against his chest. He had vague memories of a healer coming in to work on him periodically, not General Offee, someone else. He was recovering. He was sure of it. He just couldn't test the limb the way it was bound to his chest and he hadn't been able to stand yet to test the rest of his limbs.

Normally, he would have been deeply bothered by being this incapacitated. The inactivity alone would have driven him halfway out of his mind. But Ahsoka was here. She'd been given leave. Time off after flying non-stop for nearly two months.

"Where I chose to spend my time is up to me," she said simply. "I choose to spend it here."

These quiet moments with Ahsoka meant everything even if he was only awake for a few minutes at a time.

He closed his eyes.

Commander Rex.

He supposed he should feel some emotion about the promotion. He did not. Maybe it was just the fatigue. Maybe it was everything that happened with Krell. He'd work it all out when he wasn't so tired.

Heroes of the Republic. The pose was unnecessary.

Obi-Wan knew this.

The defensive stance, the raised lightsaber, the precise angle of his boots against the temple platform. There was no immediate threat in front of them. The battle had shifted several streets west nearly ten minutes earlier.

And yet Anakin had ignited his lightsaber dramatically beside him, which meant Obi-Wan was now morally obligated to look equally composed.

Such were the invisible rules of mentorship.

A gust of wind swept through the towering city structures around them, carrying smoke, dust, and distant blaster fire across the platform. Behind him, the clones stood ready with rifles raised.

Obi-Wan sensed rather than saw the men straighten subtly at the sight of the Jedi standing calm.

That mattered.

War was often theater.

Confidence spread faster than panic.

Beside him, Anakin adjusted his stance by approximately half an inch.

Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh.

Predictably, Skywalker looked as though someone had commissioned a heroic Republic statue of him mid-battle. Chin slightly raised. Lightsaber angled perfectly against the fading sky. Robes fluttering in the wind with almost suspicious timing.

Honestly, it was a little impressive.

If one ignored how obvious he was being.

Anakin sensed the glance immediately.

“You’re judging me again.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Before Obi-Wan could answer, Master Yoda’s ears twitched faintly from where he stood between them wrapped in his small robe, cane tucked beneath one arm.

“Trying very hard to appear impressive, Skywalker is.”

Anakin looked offended.

“I always look impressive.”

“Mm,” Yoda murmured. “Debatable, that is.”

Behind Obi-Wan stood CT-8841, known throughout the battalion as Anchor. Quiet. Steady. Impossible to rattle. The sort of clone who instinctively became the center point of defensive formations because everyone trusted him not to panic.

Anchor remained perfectly still now, rifle steady, posture immaculate.

Professional to the last.

Further left knelt CT-1412 “Bog,” whose primary concern at the moment was that his foot still smelled horrific.

Bog had stepped into something during extraction operations three days earlier on a swamp world whose name he had intentionally forgotten. Whatever it had been, the odor had somehow survived armor cleaning, rain, bacta wash, and one near explosion.

He was beginning to suspect chemical warfare.

Bog shifted slightly.

Still smelled terrible.

Did clone armor trap odors forever?

Surely Kamino had tested this.

He risked the tiniest glance sideways.

No visible reactions.

Good.

Professional soldiers ignored many things during war. Casualties. Incoming artillery. Existential dread.

And apparently Bog’s foot.

Directly behind Master Yoda stood CT-5509 “Blink.”

Blink was currently experiencing what medical professionals might have classified as sustained spiritual distress.

Protecting Yoda sounded prestigious until one actually attempted it.

The problem was not enemy fire.

The problem was that Yoda appeared to sense danger before it existed.

Every single time Blink thought I should check that corridor, Yoda was already looking there.

Sometimes before Blink himself understood why.

It was deeply unsettling.

Also, the tiny Jedi Grand Master transformed in combat from “elderly philosopher” into “small screaming hurricane of violence” with approximately two seconds warning.

Blink had once watched three commando droids physically retreat after Yoda launched himself through the air shrieking with a green lightsaber.

Frankly, Blink understood their reaction.

Meanwhile on the far right stood Captain Rex.

Rex watched Skywalker posing again and chose, through immense personal discipline, not to comment on it.

The annoying thing was that it worked.

The men adored him.

Rex shifted his rifle slightly against his shoulder.

Truthfully, he understood why the Jedi mattered to morale. Troops fought harder when they believed someone extraordinary stood beside them.

And despite all regulations, military logic, and operational sanity…

The Jedi were extraordinary.

Even when they were ridiculous.

Especially when they were ridiculous.

Rex glanced briefly toward the final clone holding perimeter watch at the edge of the platform.

CT-2003 “Scope.”

Scope remained laser-focused on the distant rooftops.

Nobody mentioned the ventilation pipe incident anymore.

Officially.

Unofficially, the entire battalion remembered the day Scope spent forty straight minutes tracking what he believed was a hidden Separatist sniper nest before eventually realizing he had been aiming at industrial plumbing.

The shame nearly transferred him to logistics.

To his credit, Scope had become an exceptional perimeter scout afterward out of pure spite.

Now he scanned the skyline carefully while the Jedi stood behind him looking like they belonged on a Republic propaganda poster.

Skywalker especially.

Honestly, if dramatic music started playing from nowhere, Scope would not even question it.

The wind rolled across the temple platform once more.

For one strange suspended moment, nobody moved.

Not Jedi.

Not clones.

Not even Yoda.

Below them, the war continued across the city in flashes of distant fire and collapsing towers. Thousands fought. Thousands died.

But here, just for an instant, there was stillness.

Obi-Wan looked quietly across the men beside him.

Anakin, trying far too hard not to look heroic.

Rex, exhausted beyond words but standing anyway.

Anchor, steady as stone.

Bog, silently fighting for his life against whatever was inside his boot.

Blink, one nervous breakdown away from enlightenment.

Scope, eternally at war with infrastructure.

And little Master Yoda, carrying the weight of the galaxy behind ancient eyes.

Soldiers.

Generals.

Brothers.

For one fleeting second beneath the fading light of the Republic, they did not look like warriors awaiting the next battle.

They looked like a family.

Obi-Wan first noticed it on Boz Pity, and then again on Christophsis.

Not the battle itself. Battles blurred together after enough campaigns. Smoke, noise, shouting, blaster fire. Entire worlds reduced to the same exhausted rhythm of survival.

No, what he noticed was Commander Cody kicking a battle droid directly off a landing platform.

Not shooting it.

Kicking it.

The droid pinwheeled backward into the foggy abyss below with an electronic shriek that ended several seconds later in a distant metallic crunch.

Obi-Wan blinked.

“Commander,” he called over the chaos, “you are aware you possess a blaster rifle?”

“Yes, sir!”

Another B-1 lunged around a cargo crate.

Cody pivoted cleanly and drove the heel of his boot into its chestplate hard enough to snap the droid backward over a railing.

The movement was alarmingly elegant.

Obi-Wan frowned thoughtfully.

The Commander fired three precise shots into advancing super battle droids, ducked under incoming fire, then casually swept another clanker’s legs out from beneath it before stomping its head into the deck.

Rex and Cody both had ARC training, but they approached hand-to-hand combat completely differently. That is, to say, Cody didn't always use his hands. Another droid charged him with raised blaster rifle.

Cody sidestepped, caught the weapon arm, and redirected the droid straight into the path of Obi-Wan’s returning lightsaber throw without even looking.

The droid exploded behind him.

“Thank you, sir,” Cody said.

“I’m still unclear on why you insist on doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“The kicking.”

Cody paused just long enough to blast two B-1s apart.

Then, perfectly seriously:

“It lowers ammunition consumption.”

Obi-Wan stared at him.

Another droid rushed from the smoke.

Cody kicked that one too.

The strange part was that it worked.

The Commander’s movements were compact and controlled, never wasted. He used momentum the way a practiced martial artist might. A pivot here. A strike there. Armor and body weight turned into leverage against thinner droid frames.

Clone armor was designed for war.

Battle droids, Obi-Wan reflected, were apparently designed to be punted off elevated structures.

A droideka rolled into view ahead.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan sighed, igniting his lightsaber properly. “Perhaps avoid kicking that one.”

“Understood, General.”

The droideka deployed shields with a rising whine.

Cody immediately grabbed a loose chunk of durasteel debris and hurled it directly into the destroyer droid’s projector array instead.

The shield flickered.

Obi-Wan cut the droideka neatly in half.

For a moment, side by side, they advanced through smoke and blaster fire together.

Master and commander.

Jedi and clone.

Then Cody abruptly booted another battle droid off the walkway.

Obi-Wan finally laughed.

Not politely. Not diplomatically.

An actual laugh that escaped before he could stop it.

Cody glanced back, faintly confused.

“Sir?”

“Nothing, Commander. I was merely admiring your form.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Another pause.

Then, with complete sincerity:

“I’ve been practicing.”

Obi-Wan believed him immediately.

The strange part was that it worked.

Commander Cody moved through combat with a style Obi-Wan had never quite managed to categorize. ARC training encouraged aggression, individuality, battlefield independence. Alpha-17’s influence was obvious in the Commander’s willingness to improvise, adapt, and occasionally solve tactical problems by physically launching battle droids off elevated surfaces.

And yet Cody did not fight like most ARC-trained men.

There was restraint in him.

Precision.

His movements were compact and economical, never wasted. A pivot here. A strike there. He flowed through combat with an efficiency that bordered on elegance. Not unlike a Jedi, Obi-Wan thought privately. Though he suspected Cody would be deeply offended by the comparison.

Another B-1 lunged from the smoke.

Cody stepped aside without even looking at it fully and drove the heel of his boot square into its chestplate. The droid toppled backward over the railing with a fading mechanical scream.

Obi-Wan watched it disappear into the abyss.

“Once again, Commander,” he called, unable to suppress faint amusement, “you are aware your blaster remains fully operational?”

This time, there was a pause before Cody responded. “Uh, yes, sir. It is... fully operational.”

“Then why do you continue doing that?”

Cody paused mid-firefight, considering the question with complete sincerity.

“It feels faster, sir.”

Another droid charged him.

Cody kicked that one too.

Obi-Wan exhaled softly through his nose, somewhere between disbelief and admiration.

Remarkable.

That was the word for Cody.

Not merely competent. Not simply loyal.

Remarkable.

There were moments, usually in the middle of battle, when Obi-Wan caught glimpses of the man beneath the armor. The dry humor. The discipline. The impossible calm under pressure. Cody had taken the ferocity ARC training tried to instill and tempered it into something controlled. Refined.

Like a blade sharpened so carefully it no longer needed to hack.

Another explosion rattled the platform.

Without warning, Cody caught Obi-Wan by the upper arm and pulled him backward half a step just as blaster fire scorched through the space where his head had been.

Their helmets nearly collided.

“Careful, General.”

Obi-Wan blinked once.

“…Quite right.”

For one brief second, neither moved.

Then Cody released him immediately and resumed firing as though nothing had happened.

Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber again, though he found himself smiling despite the battlefield around them.

Yes.

Remarkable indeed.

-----

The General never noticed me.

That was the strange thing about serving under Jedi. They saw everything on the battlefield except the men standing two feet behind them.

I tightened my grip on the DC-15 as Kenobi’s blue blade crashed against the Sith’s crimson one, the light so bright it burned white at the center. Sparks spat across the durasteel walkway. The air smelled like ozone, smoke, and rain.

“Hold the line!” Cody shouted through comms.

Easy for him to say.

The Separatists kept pouring through the lower avenue in endless waves of metal and red optics. Clankers didn’t get tired. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t stare for half a second at the impossible sight of two beings moving faster than thought itself.

Kenobi stepped forward. Calm. Precise. Like he already knew how this duel ended.

The witch, the one known as Ventress, snarled and drove her saber downward hard enough to split the duracrete.

I fired over the General’s shoulder. Three blue bolts punched into advancing battle droids. One dropped. Then another. Then a third kept walking without a head because apparently the Maker enjoyed irony.

“Green Squadron, left flank!” Cody barked.

I pivoted and kept firing, not sure how many in my squad were even still left standing.

Truth was, most battles weren’t heroic charges. They were noise, confusion, and trying not to die while the ones who would get remembered fought in front of you. History would remember Kenobi making a brave stand against this "Ventress" at sunset. Nobody would remember the clones holding back the droid line long enough for the duel to happen.

That was fine.

We were made for this.

Another blast clipped the wall beside me, showering sparks across my armor. I steadied my rifle and kept firing while the two lightsabers flashed in front of me like colliding stars.

The General never looked back. He didn't acknowledge those of us who were still covering his back.

But he never needed to.

We were there.

The next shot was the one that got me.

Not clean. Not fatal. Worse.

The bolt punched through the seam beneath my shoulder plate and hit hard enough to spin me sideways into the duracrete. My rifle spun out of grasp, and I immediately registered the loss. But, there was no way I could go after it.

Suddenly the battle sounded far away, muffled beneath the roar of blood in my ears.

I couldn't move. I lay there gasping.

I remember staring at the sky.

Pink clouds above the city towers. Smoke drifting upward in black ribbons.

Then the blue glow vanished from in front of me.

General Kenobi turned instantly.

Not later. Not after the duel. Immediately. I later learned Kenobi nearly lost his head when he turned back toward me, but then he pulled some insane move that finally drove the witch back. She retreated, like she always did.

“Trace!" Kenobi shouted, dropping to one knee beside me. “Stay with me.”

He knew my name? How was that possible? My armor was just like all the others. I hadn't painted it. There hadn't been time since I'd been deployed with all the fighting. And, now I would die in shiny white armor.

"Don't... bother with me, sir..." I managed. Blood was already pooling through my plates and beneath my back. Sometimes the Seppies mixed it up and used rounds that tore the flesh instead of cauterized it.

“Medic!” Kenobi called over comms.

Static answered first. Then frantic blaster fire.

Finally the voice of Keller, my favorite of all the medics we had. (And, there were so many. Damn the Seppies for targeting the medics.) “Can’t get to you, sir! We’re pinned down!”

Kenobi looked toward the clone lines. Then toward the advancing droids.

Then at me.

For one strange second, the entire battle seemed to pause.

He looked apologetic. “I'm truly sorry, but this is going to hurt."

Before I could ask what that meant, he hauled me over his shoulder like a supply pack and took off running.

I yelled despite myself around the site of the injury.

Blaster bolts screamed toward us.

Kenobi moved anyway.

One arm locked me in place against his back while his other hand spun that blue lightsaber in impossible arcs behind him, deflecting shots without even looking. Red bolts ricocheted into walls, droids, open sky.

Backward.

He was defending us running backward.

I remember thinking no human could possibly do this.

But, a Jedi could. Kenobi did it, for me.

Step by step, impossibly, we reached the clone line alive.

Hands grabbed me. Keller was there, slipping a breather on me, and giving me a painshot. Blessed relief. It all happened in seconds.

I wanted to thank the General, but he'd ignited his saber again and ran back toward the battle.

I slipped the breather off. "He knows my name," I gasped to Keller.

Keller patiently slipped the breather back on. "He knows all our names."

Years later, on Utapau, the order came through.

I was manning the large gun.

The chip screamed inside my skull like a knife driven into my brainstem. Every instinct forced obedience. Every thought narrowed toward one command.

Kill the Jedi.

Kenobi rode up the cliff face on his lizard mount, unaware, and Commander Cody gave us all the order. It was a direct order. I had to obey.

“Fire.”

My hands pulled the trigger, but I missed. Not by much. Just enough.

Because somewhere beneath the programming, beneath the pain, beneath the thing they buried inside our heads…

I remembered the man who'd carried me out and knew my name.

Day 4 of my writing challenge where I randomly pull a card from my collection and write a drabble, canon be damned. IT WAS QUIET FOR THE MOMENT.... Rex flexed his hand, feeling the creak of his glove and the reassuring rigid back of the armor plate protecting his knuckles and hand bone. He did a scan.

Nothing. No signs of droid activity. He dared to pull off his helmet, and tuck it under his breath, breathing deeply for what felt like the first time in days. Their buckets had a cooling system, tiny little fans, but it still got stuffy in there. And, when you haven't had time for a proper wash or a chance to clean your teeth, well, the smell inside there could get pretty strong, too.

The air of Christophsis was slightly better. There was the burning smell of buildings still on fire, somewhere off in the distance. They were the casualties of when their tanks had been firing on the droids, and well, sometimes the droids moved. They'd left a lot of cities on a lot of planets in much worse shape than when they'd arrived.

Sometimes he wondered exactly what it was they were doing. Were they really making the galaxy a safer place? Were the people of Christophsis better off because they were here? They were all hiding in underground shelters and had been down there for weeks. When they did finally come up, some of them would find their apartment blocks or offices in ruins.

The alternative was leaving this planet to the Separatists and then who knew what would happen to the citizens. Count Dooku promised them "safety," but his idea of safety sometimes meant selling off entire populations to slavers.

So, maybe they weren't perfect as soldiers. As a Republic. But, the alternative was worse. "Rex!" Jesse shouted. "We've got incoming! Get back here!" Rex shoved his helmet back on in one smooth motion and dove behind the barricades just as a shell completely destroyed the street where he'd been standing seconds before. He covered his head as bits of duracrete rained down on all of them, feeling sharp bits of it managing to find their way into the gaps in his armor. He sighed, doing his best to brush it all off again, and did a quick once over. He wasn't bleeding anywhere. Not too much anyway, and not of his men were injured. Or, injured from this latest round, at least.

"Alright, boys, come on, let's move out!"

No one except for my brothers knows who I am behind this helmet. OK, my brothers and the Chancellor.

Sorry, I tuned out for a moment there as I was resisting the urge to go put a blaster bolt through his sorry skull. Yes, my brothers and the Chancellor, whom we seem tasked with protecting, even though he has his own damned personal Guard. And, the Senate has their own troopers. Yet, somehow they still need us there, too, even though we also have a whole city we are supposed to protect. And, a giant prison.

Congratulations, they said, you've been assigned to Coruscant, Fox. You get to protect the jewel of the Republic.

Given a choice, I'd rather be in the Outer Rim with the others, protecting the shebs end of the Republic.

But, this is my lot in life. And, my assignment. And, fek, I have to go. He's comming me again. No, no, resist the urge. Do not put a blaster bolt into him...

Writing challenge. Day # 2. Where I randomly pull out a Clone Wars card from my collection and write a drabble based on the picture, canon be damned. Feel free to add your own drabbles in the comments. ----- "We're headed down into the caverns beneath the planet, Cody." Cody tilted his head to the side, studying his General for a moment, carefully considering his reply. "Sir, there are... unknown hostiles down there." "Yes, well, I'm quite sure we can handle anything that comes our way. Besides, Anakin is coming with us." As if summoned, the General's maniac ex-padawan appeared out of the growing sandstorm. "Alright, I'm here, Obi-Wan. Let's go down into these dark, scary tunnels of yours." "Don't know why everyone suddenly wants to give me ownership of the tunnels. I merely suggested we should search for our missing people down here."

Trapper messaged him on a private line. "It's a great way to add us to that list of missing people. We've scanned it, sir. There are multiple hostiles down there."

Obi-Wan had already opened the entrance and hopped down into the shaft. Anakin disappeared after him a half second later. "Guess we're going in," Cody sighed, more to himself than anyone else.

--- He'd half-expected to be attacked by the undead, something that was rumored to be lurking beneath the surface of this Force-forsaken planet. What he hadn't expected, though, was the enormous tunnel worm. "Commander, run!" Trapper came barreling down the passage, nearly taking Cody. Cody knelt down instead, taking aim. "It's impervious to blasters!" Trapper shouted, still running.

Cody remained in place as the massive slug came toward, so close he could see the single glowing eye... The mouth of the massive creature opened and Cody leaped up, using a short boost from his jetpack. Too much because he felt his skull crack into the top of the cave. But, he had already squeezed off the shot.

He heard the creature scream in pain and came down on top of it as it thrashed in agony. At some point, he slid off and under it.

So, this is how I die, he thought as he blacked out.

It's not so bad. I'm not in any pain. I'll get to see all my brothers again...

---- He awoke in medbay with a splitting headache and Trapper pacing worriedly by his medbay bunk. "What part of run did you not understand?!" Trapper gave him a most uncharacteristic hug, squeezing Cody until he almost couldn't breathe. "I thought I lost you. I thought you were dead."

Me, too. Cody thought, but didn't share it. He sniffed. "Have you showered since returning shipside?" Trapper stared at him. "No, I've been right here waiting for you to wake up." Cody nodded, a small grin tugging at his lips. He wasn't dead. The afterlife would surely smell a lot better than this. ------- He later found out Kenobi and Skywalker managed to rescue all of their missing troopers. There were some undead down there, sure, but they were so distracted by the screams of the dying worm creature that the Jedi were able to slip away unnoticed.

Maybe the caverns had held more of a monstrous surprise than he'd imagined, but he'd handled it.

I was cleaning out my hobby shed and found my box of Clone Wars trading cards, (Topps, 2008.) For anyone up for a writing challenge, I thought I'd post one of these every day and suggest a writing challenge based on the image. I didn't look at the back until I was done. I just did my own thing. I wasn't too concerned about canon. If it's better that I don't post the backs, let me know. Here's what I came up with... just a drabble....

Ahsoka never liked it when someone referred to her as “little girl.”

“Hah! Little girl! You’ll never take down that Vulture Droid!” Taunted a nearby B-1, not even bothering to raise its blaster. It had likely calculated her odds of surviving the encounter with the Spider Droid as zero. More B1 piled in behind it, none even bothering to raising their weapons. “Little girl. Little girl.” They echoed.

Ahsoka gritted her teeth and moved her feet, ever so slightly angling her body so the chattering droids were perfectly centered behind her.

“Come and get me!” She taunted the vulture droid, make what seemed like a clumsy swipe at it. The nimble fighter pulled back on its servos, safely getting out of reach of the blade and charged up its main blasters. They glowed red as they prepared to belch out deadly fire.

Behind her, the B1 continued their tittering and teasing.

She felt the release of the blast before she saw and leapt up and over the vulture droid.

The blast took out the B1s in a shower of shrapnel, leaving very little left. She ducked down low, as Rex had just taught her, protecting her head and face with the gauntlets on her arms.

She was immediately up again, this time allowing her blade to slice directly through the droid. It fell apart in two neat pieces, the red dome light immediately going dim.

Rex came around the corner, blaster draw, and pulled up short. He took in the scene. “Nice one, Commander.” 

Ahsoka felt the warmth of the praise wash over her. Not “little girl.” But, a title of respect. Commander.

“Come on, then,” Rex gestured for her to follow, “there are more droids this way. You can show me how you did that.”

Chapter 108: Breaking Through

Ahsoka's fighter shuddered as another volley of fire streaked past her canopy, close enough that she could see the superheated plasma distorting the stars beyond. Her hands were cramped around the controls, fingers aching from hours of constant maneuvering. How long had she been up here? Six hours? Eight? Time had lost all meaning somewhere between the third wave of vulture droids and watching Blue Five’s fighter explode into nothing.

"Blue Seven, on your six!" she called out, her voice hoarse. How many times had she given that warning today? Too many. Always too many.

"I see them, Commander. Thanks." Blue Seven's voice was tight with fatigue, all the earlier enthusiasm long since burned away by the relentless grind of this battle.

The Separatist blockade was a wall of durasteel and spite, Admiral Trench's flagship squatting at the center like a spider in its web. Every time they pushed forward, every small gain they made, the blockade adjusted. Tightened. Pushed back. It was like fighting the tide itself.

And Rex was down there. Badly hurt. Maybe dying.

Ahsoka forced the thought away, channeling her fear into her flying. Sharp bank left. Roll. Fire. One vulture droid spun away trailing smoke. Two more took its place immediately.

"Commander, we're not making progress here." That was Blue Three, his transmission crackly with interference. "We've been at this for hours and we haven't gained a meter."

He wasn't wrong. Ahsoka's tactical display showed the brutal truth: the blockade was as strong now as it had been at the start of her shift. Maybe stronger. Trench kept pulling in reinforcements from somewhere, fresh ships replacing the ones they destroyed. Meanwhile, Blue Squadron was down to eight fighters from their original twelve. And, that eight was only because they’d pulled pilots from other squadrons and had two on loan from the 212th. 

"I know," she said, hating how defeated she sounded. "But we keep fighting. The 501st is counting on us."

Rex is counting on me.

Except Rex might not even know she was up here. He might not know anything at all anymore.

No. Stop it. Focus.

"Blue Squadron, form up on me," she ordered, pushing her fighter into a steep climb. "We're making another run at the command cruiser."

"Commander Tano, no offense, sir, but we've tried that six times already." Blue Four, one of the pilots on loan from the 212th, sounded as exhausted as she felt. "Their point defense is too strong."

"Then we try a seventh time," Ahsoka snapped, immediately regretting her tone. These pilots had been fighting just as hard as she had. They'd lost brothers today, too. "Sorry. I know you're all tired. But if we can take out that command ship, the whole blockade might falter."

Might. Maybe. Possibly. She was running on hope and desperation now, and both were wearing thin.

Her squadron formed up behind her, their fighters moving with the sluggish precision of pilots who'd been in combat too long. She could feel their exhaustion through the Force, a weight pressing down on all of them.

"Blue Squadron, we're going in. Watch your spacing and-"

The transmission cut off as her entire instrument panel lit up red. Proximity alarms shrieked. Missile lock warnings. Her fighter's computer was screaming at her that she was about to die.

Ahsoka yanked the stick hard right, the sudden g-force slamming her against her seat restraints. The missiles streaked past, so close she could feel the heat through her canopy. But they weren't following her. They were locked onto-

"Blue Four!" she shouted.

The explosion was silent in the vacuum of space, but she felt it through the Force. Another life extinguished. Another brother gone. Another apology she needed to make to the 212th for losing another of their pilots.

"Dammit!" Blue Three's voice cracked. "That's it. We can't keep doing this. We're just throwing our lives away!"

He was right. Ahsoka knew he was right. This was suicide dressed up as strategy. But what else could they do? Retreat? Leave the 501st trapped on Anaxes with no support, no supplies, no hope?

Leave Rex?

"Blue Squadron, pull back," she ordered, the words tasting like ash. "Reform at-"

Something changed.

It was subtle at first, just a shift in the battle's rhythm that Ahsoka couldn't quite name. Then her sensors registered it: six Separatist frigates had just exploded. Not been destroyed in combat - just suddenly, catastrophically exploded from within, as if something had torn through their hulls.

"What the-" Blue Seven started. "Commander, are you seeing this?" His voice held confusion and hope in equal measure.

More ships dying. Not from Blue Squadron's attacks. From something else. Something they couldn't see.

"It's a trick," Blue Three said immediately. "Has to be. Trench is trying to draw us in."

Ahsoka reached out with the Force, trying to sense what was happening. The battle was chaos in the Force, all violence and fear and death. But underneath it...

There.

A presence. Familiar. Attacking with devastating precision.

Her heart lurched.

"That's not a trick," she whispered.

A Separatist destroyer suddenly listed to one side, its engines going dark. Then another. Whatever was out there was carving through the blockade like a vibroblade through silk.

"All squadrons, this is Blue Leader," she transmitted on the general channel. "Unknown friendly is engaging the enemy. Coordinate attacks and watch your fire."

"Friendly?" Blue Seven sounded skeptical. "Commander, we can't even see them."

"Trust me," Ahsoka said, pushing her fighter forward. Because she could feel him now, clear as anything. That reckless, brilliant, absolutely infuriating presence she knew better than her own.

Anakin.

But how? He'd been called back to Coruscant. Unless...

Admiral Trench's flagship was turning, its massive bulk swinging around to face this new threat. Point defense cannons opened up, firing at empty space. Some shots hit something - Ahsoka saw the shimmer of energy shields deflecting fire - but whatever ship Anakin was flying, it was cloaked and moving too fast for the lumbering cannons to track.

"Blue Squadron, attack pattern Delta-Seven," Ahsoka ordered, her exhaustion burning away in a surge of hope. "Hit the flagship's starboard side while they're distracted."

Her pilots responded instantly, forming up with renewed energy. They could feel it too, the shift in momentum. The impossible suddenly becoming possible.

Ahsoka dove toward the flagship, her targeting computer locking onto the shield generators. She could sense Anakin on the far side of the ship, feel his intent through their training bond. He was going for the engines. She'd take the shields. They'd done this dance a hundred times before.

The flagship's point defense turned toward her squadron, belching fire. But half the cannons were still tracking the cloaked ship, confused and ineffective. Ahsoka jinked through the incoming fire, her hands moving on pure instinct, and fired.

Her torpedoes struck true, punching through the weakened shields. Explosions blossomed across the flagship's hull. And then, from the far side, a massive detonation as Anakin's attack found the main reactor.

The flagship shuddered, listing badly, atmosphere venting from a dozen hull breaches.

"All ships, concentrate fire!" Admiral Yularen's voice came over the fleet channel, energized. "We have them!"

The Resolute and the other Republic cruisers surged forward, finally able to push through. The Separatist blockade, suddenly leaderless and confused, began to scatter.

It was breaking. The blockade was actually breaking.

Ahsoka's comm crackled. "Miss me, Snips?"

Relief and annoyance flooded through her in equal measure. "Where have you been?" she demanded. "The 501st needed you! Rex needed-" Her voice caught.

A pause. When Anakin spoke again, his tone was different. Heavier. "I know. I'm sorry. I was... handling something. I'll explain when I land. How is he?"

Ahsoka's hands tightened on her controls. "I don’t know. Communication keeps getting cut off. Master Plo is down there. I don’t know anything. He could be-” “Ahsoka,” Anakin cut her off in the way he did when she was spiraling, “we’ve cut a hole. I’m heading down to the ground. Join me. We’ll see for ourselves. Tell your pilots to get some rest.”

The comm clicked off before she could respond. She reached for him through the Force, but his presence was already fading, moving away.

"Blue Squadron, the blockade is broken," she transmitted, her voice steadier than she felt. "I’m headed dirtside. You can join me or head back to the Resolute.”

Every one of her fighters banked with her toward Anaxes. They were just as desperate as she was to see the men on the ground, and she saw a wave of LAATs leaving the Resolute headed toward the surface.

Before she entered the atmosphere, she caught a shimmer in space-- the briefest outline of a ship she'd never seen before. It emerged from what looked like a cloaking field just long enough for Anakin's starfighter to shoot out of the back. So, that's how he'd done it. A cloaked ship. A stealth ship. It almost looked like... a pirate raider? As soon as Anakin's ship shot free and peeled away, the ship cloaked again and vanished as if it had never been there.

"Commander, did you see-" Blue Three started. "We didn't see anything," Blue Seven cut him off immediately.

"Copy that," immediately confirmed Blue Two.

So, that told her a great deal. Blue Seven and Blue Two, two of her most experienced pilots, recognized the ship.

Where had I seen that before? She was too exhausted to call that information forward at the moment, but something was missing here. Something important she wasn’t understanding.

Where had Anakin been? Who had helped him?

And why did she have the feeling that whatever had happened out there, it was just as important as everything that had happened down on Anaxes? She entered the atmosphere with her full squad on either side of her, just as eager as she was to rejoin the others down on Anaxes. Rest could wait. They finally had an opportunity to get down to Anaxes and see what had become of the troopers trapped down on the surface.

[Author's Note: The full story of where Anakin was and who helped break the blockade will be revealed in "The Clone Planet (The Moon of Ando)" series, currently being rewritten and updated. For now, we return to Anaxes and the long road to recovery. ]

OK, mostly I just post my fanfic here on Tumblr, but sharing a favorite trooping pic from last year. Mainly because I am so bendy. I'm the trooper on the left. This was a pediatric cancer run at Stanford. And, yes, I ran.

The AfterMath

Rex's world had narrowed to a series of sensations that didn't quite connect into a coherent whole.

Pain in his shoulder. It was white hot. Searing. Relentless.

Kix's voice, close and urgent. "...stay still... need to stabilize..."

Was he moving? He didn't think he was moving. Jesse's voice, low and urgent, conversing back and forth with Kix as they cataloged his condition. Jesse spent so much time with Kix that he was turning into a medic of sorts in his own right.

The deck plating, cold and hard beneath him. The coolness seemed to be the only thing bringing him relief. He tried to burrow into it, like it was one big ice pack, but that just brought more pain. He groaned.

"Hold still, Rex." Kix had a lot of patience as a medic, but it wasn't endless. He also didn't sound like himself.

Rex tried to get his eyes open so he could focus on Kix and figure out what was wrong with Kix.

His medic was many things, but he was not indestructible. In the back of his mind, he suspected there was something he should remember about Kix, but right now, he couldn’t pull that information forward. He also couldn’t get his eyes to open more than slits and the hangar bay was spinning. “Fek!” he growled out in irritation, “hold still!” At least, that’s what he thought he said. The words may have all jumbled together as a single sound.

Jesse leaned and gave him a confused look.

Kix leaned in with a penlight, unphased as usual. "He wasn't talking to us."

"Ow." Rex complained, trying to swat it away like he always did, but that brought a flare of agony through his upper body. He ended up mewling a Loth cats. At least, that's what he thought he sounded like. He’d never had one. Or, held one. He’d like to have a Loth cat one day. 

“This is not good,” Kix murmured, leaning in again with the penlight.

Rex swatted at the light again, but it made his vision go grey around the edges, and it suddenly became very hard to breathe. He forgot all about wanting a Lothcat.

"Jesse, hold him still here and here." Kix directed Jesse's hands, placing one on Rex's uninjured shoulder, and the other down on his belt. "Rex, I need you to stop moving. You're only going to injure yourself further, and Krell did enough of that."

Rex tried to make sense of Kix's words. He really did, but everything was disconnected and made less sense. "Krell," he repeated numbly.

"Yeah," Jesse acknowledged, "fekker's finally dead. General Plo took his head clean off."

Right. Rex knew that. Krell was dead. Why was he having such difficulties holding thoughts in his head? "Head," Rex repeated numbly.

Kix frowned as he took his readings. "You've got blunt force trauma to your head, Rex. This is not good."

Something was wrong with his head. That made sense. It also explained why it felt like a Hutt was sitting on his head.

"Head... hurts," Rex acknowledged.

"He's admitting he's in pain." Jesse murmured. "That's not a good sign."

"Yeah." Kix rooted through his pack. "I have nothing to give you for the pain, Rex. I'm out of everything."

Rex reached for an image. Something that had helped. No. Someone. "General... Plo.”

Kix nodded, understanding right away, as he seemed to have a way of speaking injured clone. “Jess, see if you can find General Plo and get him back here. Rex isn’t doing well, and all my scans are telling me is that he’s getting worse. We’ve got nothing to treat with.” Rex drifted off to the frustration in Kix’s voice. He wanted to assure his medic, tell him they’d figure this out. Find some supplies. Or, improvise, or do something. But, he just couldn’t….

Plo Koon found a quiet spot to make a call back to the Temple. His gloves were sticky with blood. He'd done some quick triage on both Rex and Wolffe, but both clone commanders were badly injured. They would need a great deal more care. Iron and Rusty were both with Wolffe at the moment, doing what they could for his head injury.

"Saw all of it, I did," Yoda said, answering the call so quickly he'd either been waiting for Plo to call, or he instinctively knew the call was coming. "The Captain. Does he still live?"

"Yes," Plo said quietly. He reached out for Rex's presence and felt an answering response. Confused. Weak. In pain. He wasn't sure the Captain was aware of the extent of his Force abilities. He wielded it so naturally, it probably had always been a part of the way he functioned. It would explain why he was so effective on the battlefield and had such a reputation for following his instincts. Plo had read up on him in detail after their encounter outside the Council Chambers.

He was a great asset to the Republic.

No, not an asset. That was the problem. They thought of these men as...

"Plo," Yoda's voice managed to be stern and patient at the same time, drawing him back.

"Sorry." Plo inhaled deeply to help gather his racing thoughts. "A great deal has transpired. I am still processing."

"Captain Rex, great care must he take," Yoda warned in that way he did when he saw great challenges in someone's future.

Plo could see it too. Word of this fight would spread, if it had not already. Their enemies had already shown interest in cloning the clones. Word of a Force-sensitive clone would start a frenzy.

Plo reached out to Rex again, feeling his pain worsening with each passing moment. "I need to get back to him." Plo's tone changed from factual to bitter as he reported on the state of the clones. "He's getting worse. And Wolffe. Both are in critical condition. Pong did not show any restraint. He sought to maim these clones. And, kill them. En masse.” Plo could not keep the bitterness out of his tone. How could a Jedi have done such a thing?

"A Force healer, they need," Yoda said, in the way he had of simplifying everything.

Plo felt a rare surge of annoyance with the Grand Master. What good was a single healer when there was a hangar full of injured men?

"It won't be enough." Plo said bluntly. "There are too many injured. Pong let loose his anger on all these men even when they tempered their response back to him."

Plo had lost track of how many times during the fight Rex had given Pong a chance to stand down.

He turned his holo device and swept it slowly side to side so Yoda could fully see the extent of the damage and the number of injured troopers. The clones were already trying to make order of all of it, forming triage areas, and using pieces of broken crates for temporary splints.

"The medics have nothing to work with." Plo's frustration came through as he focused on the injured trying to sort through all of the even worse injured. "The Separatists have kept this planet barricaded trying to starve us out. How can we treat this many injured if..."

"Master Plo," Yoda interrupted his tirade, "called me already, Mace has. Already on the way, the new medical ship is."

New medical ship?

In the field, clones injured were treated at RMSUs, then transported to their Venators before being taken to medical stations. But, a medical ship?

He was about to inquire further about the ship when the hologram flickered and split. Mace Windu's image appeared beside Yoda's.

"Plo," Mace greeted simply. He was dressed in standard Republic issue medical attire. Behind him, Plo could make out what looked like the shelves of a supply closet, though they barely contained any supplies. Beyond the shelves, the crowded interior of a Republic Mobile Surgical Unit. The temporary field hospital setup spoke volumes about the state of Anaxes.

"Mace," Plo returned, wanting to ask about his state of health, but there was no time for such things.

"As you know, Commander Cody shared his live feed with me," Mace updated.

"And you shared it with the Council," grumbled a voice off-screen, though there was no heat to it.

Plo had seen the report. Mace Windu claimed Commander Cody saved his life under the data center, while the Commander claimed the General had done the same for him.

Obviously, something had significantly changed in the relationship between Mace and Cody. It was a remarkable turnabout, given the tension between them after Commander Cody defied regulations to rescue his men.

Mace's voice was strong, despite the physical evidence of his injuries. "What Captain Rex did was... extraordinary." He paused to tilt his holo feed, giving Plo and Yoda a view of the 212th Commander in a RIMSU bunk less than a meter away. "But not altogether surprising."

Without making eye contact at the holocam, the Commander grumbled something under his breath that sounded like: "That wasn't me."

Mace turned the cam so it was focused on his face again. "We have much to discuss as a Council."

Plo paused to take in this new information.

So there was another.

His mind spun with the implications. But maybe he'd already known.

Perhaps it explained the protectiveness he'd always felt toward the clones, the same protectiveness he had toward Jedi padawans. The feeling was especially strong with his own clone commander, Wolffe. Though he'd not witnessed Wolffe do anything like the behaviors exhibited today from Captain Rex. It was as if the Captain had received some training already.

The training of clone troopers with the raw potential of Jedi.

He suddenly couldn't breathe. If the Sith found out...

"A shatterpoint, this is," Mace told Yoda and Plo.

"Yes," Plo choked out. Even without Mace's gift for both recognizing and exploiting shatterpoints, it was crystal clear to him something monumental had shifted in the Force.

Yoda straightened up, the way the elderly master did when he was about to announce something big. "Come, I will, to Anaxes with additional troops. The Solace, already it is en route."

There had been talk of deploying a medical ship by that name, but Plo hadn't been aware it had gotten past anything more than the talking stage. That was usually where the Jedi stopped these days. Endless conversations and little action.

"The Solace?" Plo questioned, his tone lifting slightly with surprise. "I hadn't realized it was ready for deployment."

Yoda nodded serenely. "Proven themselves capable they have. Taken on relief missions, protected by the forces of the 41st Elite. Ready, General Offee is for this mission at Anaxes."

This time, there was a choked gasp from the direction of Commander Cody.

Mace's head turned sharply to the side, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are you alright, Cody?"

Mace tilted his cam again.

"Yes, General." The Commander's voice sounded strained. "General Windu, General Yoda, apologies for the interruption." He could barely get the words out. He was pale and wide-eyed, this time staring directly at the cam. 

More testament to how injured all of these clones were and the great need for the medical ship. Barriss Offee could not arrive soon enough.

Plo addressed Yoda and Mace. "It is settled, then. Barriss Offee and the Solace are coming to Anaxes."

The comm cut, and Plo closed his eyes. Healers were on the way. It was good news. He looked around the devastation of the hangar bay.

The sounds of the heavy guns had faded once again, evidence that the battle had moved further up into orbit. Help would not be coming immediately. They were still on their own for now.

He looked around the devastated hangar, and the clones helping clones.

They could make this work. They would have to make this work. They just had to hold out a little longer.

Hope. He just had to give these men hope.

One of the 501st troopers was waiting to speak to him. “General Plo, I’m Jesse, sir. Could you come with me? It’s Captain Rex. He’s getting worse.”