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Chapter Text

"General Koon's faring best." Kix told Ahsoka, his soft voice echoing through the quiet medbay, "Followed by Sinker and Boost." They walked further into triage and Ahsoka observed the men inside, all neatly tucked into their beds with thick blankets.

The medbay was calm, much calmer than usual. No blood stained the floor, nobody was screaming in pain and none of the medics had reached the caf-dependent stage of exhaustion. Torrent's casualties were minimal, so the only permanent patients were the Wolfpack survivors and Master Plo who was sat up in his bed, reading a datapad.

He waved at Ahsoka, earning a shy smile in return. She was glad that her oldest friend was on the mend, but he wasn't the reason she paid a visit to the medbay.

The clone medic halted and the Padawan followed his gaze to the furthest bed that was tucked in the corner, "What about Wolffe?"

He seemed to be sleeping peacefully like the others, but Ahsoka had come to the medbay after feeling his intense, negative emotions in the Force- so strong that it made her nauseous.

Kix pursed his lips, "There's no cure for nightmares, Commander."

He didn't say anything else before Ahsoka was gravitating forwards. Wolffe's nightmares were what called her to the medbay. Dark, twisting images of the Malevolence sending Master Plo's fleet into a complete shutdown. The clone bodies floating in space, sucked out of their pods. The impending sense of doom.

"You got something to say, kid?" He asked suddenly, making her jump. "Or are you just going to stand there?" She didn't even realise she had made it to his bedside.

Words failed her. Wolffe had never introduced himself to her, despite their frequent encounters, and Ahsoka always felt like squirming under his harsh glare. Even with his eyes closed, Wolffe was scowling.

"H-How are you?" She found herself asking, leaning against the railing of his bed. Nobody had ever told her that the beds could move, and Wolffe jerked his eyes open when the bed scrapped across the floor, "Sorry!"

As she pulled the bed back into position, Ahsoka didn't miss the way Wolffe's eyes went wide and the heart monitor sped up. Awkwardness filled her, leaving her speechless. Master Skywalker once told her that clones have nerves of steel, so Wolffe's panic was... unsettling.

"I'm fine." He said eventually, breaking the silence, "Medic said I was affected more because I wasn't wearing armour."

"Well, you'll be alright now, and so will the rest of your men." She tried to reassure him, "Kix's the best of the best."

"Hm." He replied, scowling again, leading them into another painfully awkward silence.

Sure, Anakin could be difficult to converse with sometimes, but Ahsoka could easily walk away from her Master to find another source of entertainment. Now, she would've looked like a terrible person if she walked away. Besides, she wasn't talking to Wolffe to entertain herself, she was trying to help him.

"The first time I fought Ventress, I thought I was going to die." He glared at her with a raised eyebrow, causing her to stutter, "So, d-don't feel ashamed."

"Ashamed of what?" He spat, looking down at his feet. "Clones aren't afraid of death."

"Says who?" She asked, angry that he felt the need to act so unaffected even after nearly being vacuumed out of an escape pod. His only response was to cast her a nasty look.

She hadn't been near many clones during their final breaths, the medics and her Master always tried to shelter her from it, but their Force-signatures always projected fear before they passed.

"I wasn't afraid of dying, kid." He was lying. Every report about the mystery weapon stated that there were no survivors and any person, clone or not, would be terrified to face something like that. "I just wish there were more survivors."

That caught her off guard, and here she thought Wolffe was incapable of having emotional responses.

"I'm so sorry about your men." She rested a hand on his shoulder, and when he didn't flinch, she squeezed gently. "I... it's not the same, but after Teth..."

Her voice start to shake, but when the Commander nodded in solidarity and understanding, she didn't have to continue. Teth could never really compare to the Malevolence, even if the numbers of casualties were similar.

When the rest of Torrent found out that only three clones survived the Malevolence, shock rippled all the way up the ladder. Master Plo's men were some of the best in the GAR, and their reputation was well-known. The fact that the Separatists had decided to attack them, and succeeded, had shocked everyone.

"Sucked out of those pods like angry nerfs being released from a pen." She could tell he wasn't exaggerating, "They stood no chance of surviving, and I had no chance of saving them."

He turned his head towards her, "As Commanders, it's our responsibility to keep our men alive. You've been in this war, what? Less than 3 months? You don't know how much faith your men are putting in you, kid."

Ahsoka clenched her jaw, "My men put a lot of faith in my Master and I, but they also understand that sometimes, we can't promise survival. Sometimes," Her throat closed up just thinking about that horrible jungle planet and Ventress and Jabba's son, "Sometimes, we can only save the survivors."

"As Commanders, we have to accept this fact." She added with a bite in her tone. "Our all will not always be enough, but the best men under our command can understand this."

Rex had not once blamed Ahsoka or Anakin for their losses on Teth, even though they could've saved more men if their mandate to return Rotta to Tattooine hadn't been put under so much pressure.

They waited in silence for a while. Wolffe's walls were not penetrable like the men in Torrent. She could usually get Rex to crack if he had something on his mind, and it was easy to cheer up Denal or Kix when they felt defeated. There was no way to warm Wolffe's ice-cold heart.

"How about you mark their legacy?"

His eyes snapped up to her, "I've said my prayers of remembrance, what else do I have to do?"

"Honour them." She told him, "Create something in memory of them, like painting your armour."

"Painting what?"

"I don't know!" She threw her hands in the air before getting an idea, "How about a wolf?" He gave her an unimpressed look, "Yes! A wolf! Wolves are cool and tough, just like you and your men."

His lips flickered into what may have been a smile, but it was hard to tell, "Let me get this straight, kid. You're suggesting I honour my fallen brothers by painting wolves onto my armour?"

"And by encouraging your new men to do the same. You would quickly become a reputable name." She frowned, "Although, the 104th Battalion sounds a bit boring." She quipped a teasing smile, "You don't have a cool name like Torrent Company."

"You don't know the difference between a Company and a Battalion." He said, shooting her down again.

"Fancy some dinner, Commander?" Kix asked, appearing beside them with a tray of steaming food in one hand. At first, Ahsoka thought he was addressing her, but then the Padawan saw something she never thought she would see.

Wolffe smiled- a proper, real smile.

Ahsoka's jaw dropped open as the medic raised the top of Wolffe's bed and passed him the tray, all the while his eyes were lit up like a youngling being offered candy. "Meat and vegetable stew with rice, double portion." Kix lifted his eyes to her, "Ahsoka can help me in the office if you'd like to eat alone, Commander."

She recognised her cue to leave and straightened when Wolffe spoke out, "She can stay."

Ahsoka felt her chest swell with pride; Wolffe didn't hate her enough to make her leave whilst he ate his dinner. With one last tight smile, Kix left the pair and retreated to the office. Wolffe watched the medic until the office door closed before looking at the tray on his lap.

It was practically inhaled.

Ahsoka grimaced at the disgusting sound of lips smacking and meat being chewed, it made her want to gag. Wolffe paid her no mind as he devoured the mountain of food in less than three minutes. Honestly, Ahsoka thought watching Anakin eat was gross, but this was a new level of uncivilised mannerism.

"You eat like a pack of starved wolves..." Ahsoka trailed off before gasping, "The Wolfpack!"

He furrowed his brow at her, chewing one of his final mouthfuls, "The what?"

"The Wolfpack!" She repeated excitedly, "That's a perfect name to honour your brothers."

He started to laugh, revealing half-chewed food in his mouth which made bile rise in her throat, "The Wolfpack? Don't be ridicu-" He stopped laughing and murmured it under his breath, "The Wolfpack."

"See? I didn't even need to use a Jedi mind trick." Ahsoka was beaming as he genuinely considered her suggestion, "What made you feel better; having Kix wait on you, hand and foot, or having a squad named after you?"

"I'll tell you something, kid, might come in handy with your own men." For the first time, he made eye contact without looking straight into her soul, "The way into a clone's heart is pretty girls and hot food."

Ahsoka frowned, feeling slightly offended that she wasn't enough to cheer him up, "Kix is pretty, but he's not a girl."

Wolffe rolled his eyes, "Don't see you offering me any hot food, Soka."

A grin grew on her face, erasing any signs of irritation. She pointed to his plate, "You look like you could use seconds, Commander, let me get that for you."

Just as she went to walk away, Wolffe called, "Thanks for coming back for us, kid."

Glancing over her shoulder, she grinned, "I'll always come back for someone as cheerful as you, Wolfie."

He immediately scowled at the nickname, causing the Togruta to giggle. She left the medbay with a warm feeling in her chest, promising to never leave a clone behind.

Chapter Text

The choice was simple: board the gunship on the left with Anakin, or board the one on the right with Obi-Wan. Usually, the two Jedi remained inseparable during transit, but the circumstances were extenuating.

Anakin looked like he could snap his lightsaber in half as he walked with purposeful strides away from Obi-Wan. Ahsoka should go with him, take his side like the loyal Padawan and friend she was. He would inevitably break down as soon as they boarded the cruiser, and Ahsoka should be there to pick up the pieces.

Obi-Wan's head was also lowered, and guilt radiated from his Force-signature. How did she not know it was him all along? She had missed her Grandmaster, and sought his comforting presence, even if he still looked like Rako Hardeen. She should go with him, be the welcoming arms that he deserved after such a physically and mentally demanding mission.

Ahsoka looked between the two Jedi's retreating forms, trying to decide which route to take. It should've been a simple choice, but even the Force wasn't showing her an answer. Her lower lip stuck out involuntarily, and she didn't realise tears were brimming in her eyes until she saw a blurry clone appear in front of her.

Blinking rapidly, she forced a smile for the Commander whose armour was trimmed with orange. "Hey, Cody."

"Ahsoka." His helmet jerked with a nod. "Saved you a seat on the trooper transport."

Silently, he told her that she didn't have to choose between her Master and Obi-Wan. Her heart warmed at the gesture, "Thank you." She turned away from Anakin and Obi-Wan, "Lead the way, Commander."

They boarded the trooper transport and Cody guided her towards the back of the ship. She sat down near the window, allowing Cody to take the seat beside her.

Her mind was elsewhere, so she didn't notice them taking off until Cody was pulling a restraint belt across her hips, "Thank-"

"Don't mention it." The clone Commander leaned back, casually throwing an arm around her shoulders. Ahsoka leaned against the side of his chest, allowing his fingertips to gently rub her right shoulder like Anakin would do after a tough mission, "You want to talk about it?"

"I'm fine." She replied quickly, focusing on a spot on the floor. Cody was probably stressed enough, and he didn't need to worry about her as well. Ahsoka lifted her feet to rest on the edge of the seat, hugging her knees tight to her chest.

"You haven't answered my question, Soka." His voice sounded soft, even with his ventilator.

She wiped her eyes, demanding them to remain dry. The last thing her reputation needed was for her to break down in front of such an established officer. Especially one like Cody. He probably felt more betrayed than Obi-Wan's actions than her. She couldn't imagine having to fake her own death and then show up in front of Rex, expecting him to be fine with it.

"How do you do it, Cody?" She asked, her voice so quiet the clone had to tilt his head towards her to hear. She turned her head so her cheek rested on her knee and she could watch him.

"Do what? Pretend I'm fine when I'm not?" He clarified, causing Ahsoka's lips to part slightly. That was exactly what she meant. "Pretend I'm unaffected that my supposedly dead General was never dead? Pretend I understand that he didn't tell me to ensure the mission was successful?"

Maybe she had underestimated how much Cody cared. She uncurled herself slightly, "You don't have to."

"Don't have to, want to." With that, Cody retracted his arm from around her shoulder and removed his helmet. He passed it to her, much to Ahsoka's delight, whilst he fiddled with his belt. "One second."

Before she started fiddling with his helmet as she liked to do with Rex's, Ahsoka risked a glance at his face. Cody's brow was furrowed a little as he half-stood up to reach the back of his belt. Their eyes met from a split second, and she knew he only grinned to cheer her up.

Looking at the helmet in her hands, she marvelled at the feeling of rough plastoid beneath her fingertips. If she closed her eyes, she could see the many battles that accounted for every scratch and dent. Everything that made Cody the brilliant Commander than he was.

The sound of a bottle being unscrewed brought her attention back to reality. Cody had retrieved a small, metal flask from his belt and once unscrewed, an unpleasant aroma caused Ahsoka to scrunch up her nose, "What is that?"

"Whyren's Reserve Corellian whiskey." He told her, offering the flask for her to smell. She leaned closer and breathed in the scent, it smelt somewhere between woody and spicy. "This stuff, Commander Tano, is how I cope."

She managed to quip him a cheeky smile, "No offense, Cody, but you sound like you have an alcohol problem."

"Cheek!" He nudged her shoulder lightly, "Allow me to explain, kid."

He lifted the flask to her montrals and swirled it around. Ahsoka heard the liquid sloshing around quietly, "It's less than half full."

"You're right." He brought the flask in front of her, titling it just enough for her to see the glint of brown liquid inside. "I haven't filled it up since the war began."

"Gross!" Ahsoka pushed the flask away from her.

"It only gets better with age, kid." He explained, taking his helmet off her lap to rest on his left thigh.

"What? The older you get the better it tastes?" She teased, earning another playful nudge.

"After every mission that is considerably tougher than the others, I take a swig." As if to prove a point, Cody tossed some of the whiskey into his mouth, swallowing instantly. His grimace lasted half a second, "One swig, that's all I need."

"What's the point then?" She rested her cheek on her knees once again, watching him. She's seen members of Torrent drink enough alcohol to make the medics panic, and still make an appearance at training the next day. So a swig, at least by her knowledge, was nothing.

"When things aren't going as I planned, I have a look at this." He held up the flask in front of his own face, "It reminds me that, in the future, there will be many more times when things feel tough. But when they come, I'll be able to handle it."

Ahsoka chewed her lip as she thought about what he said. After thinking for a few moments, she knew that Cody was right.

Her and Anakin had taken on many tough missions before, but they always got out in one piece, more or less. It was no secret that the war was far from over, and there would be dozens of tough times ahead.

"Bittersweet comfort." She concluded, her voice just above a whisper. "Why drink the whole thing after a rough mission when you could have a little? You can see how many times you've pulled through."

"Exactly, you catch on quick." He offered her the open flask, and Ahsoka found herself extending a hand for it, "Just a swig, Soka. Skywalker will have my head if you stumble out of this transport."

"I've drank before." She rolled her eyes at his stern tone, "Dad."

Cody chuckled, passing her the flask. She felt the cool metal in her palm, certain spots were warmer where he had gripped it. Her stomach fluttered; she'd never had whiskey before.

"You don't have to if you don't-" Cody didn't finish, Ahsoka lifted the flask to her lips and tossed her head back.

The whiskey burned like acid down her throat, but the warmth it left in her chest was comforting. It tasted a lot better than it smelt, and Ahsoka drank a lot more than a swig before Cody pulled the flask away from her mouth, "Easy, kid, don't bite more than you can chew."

At first, she was confused by what he meant, until she felt a horrible sensation stirring in her stomach. It felt like fire and ice reaching up her throat, and panic settled in her mind. If she threw up and Anakin found out, he would disown her.

"I thought you said you've drank before!" Cody exclaimed quietly. Ahsoka grabbed his gloved hand, rubbing it across her tongue to get rid of the burning sensation on every taste bud whilst using the Force to suppress the urge to vomit.

"That stuff packs a punch." She murmured, releasing his hand. The alcohol finally reached her head and make the transport spin. She leaned back onto Cody's chest, letting him hold her upright, "Give me a second."

"You need a bucket?" He offered his helmet, making her cough out a laugh.

"Just a pillow." She turned to rest her face against his chest plate, "Found one."

"I'll wake you when we dock." He told her, shifting to accommodate her new position. Ahsoka quickly dozed off, and the alcohol numbed the reality of Obi-Wan's deception, making it easier to think about the fact that their mission was a success and the Chancellor was safe.

Cody rubbed a finger up and down Ahsoka's lekku as she napped, careful not to go too low and stir her. Before returning his hip flask to his belt, lest a member of Torrent caught him intoxicating their underage Commander, he raised it and whispered a toast, "To tough times ahead."

The Padawan only murmured in response, making him chuckle. Obi-Wan's deception hurt Cody, and only a sip of whiskey wouldn't take away all his pain. The Togruta curled against his chest, however, made it bearable.

Months later, when Ahsoka descended into the lower levels of Coruscant after leaving the only life she'd ever known, she went to a bar.

"One shot of Corellian whiskey." She told the bartender, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Any particular brand?" He gestured to the rows of bottles along the wall.

"Whyren's Reserve."

With the shot in hand, Ahsoka found a booth in a quiet corner and swirled the liquid around the glass, remembering what Cody taught her on the transport from Naboo.

She raised the glass and whispered, "To tough times ahead." Wiping the single tear off her cheek, Ahsoka tossed the whiskey down her throat, "Thanks, Cody."

Chapter Text

“Just patch me up and send me back.” Ahsoka told the medic sternly. “I’m fine, honestly.” She had walked from the hanger to the medbay alone, and the only pain she had was from her left elbow. Apparently, Anakin had called ahead, as the medic wouldn’t tolerate her protests to return planet-side.  

“You were buried alive for nearly half an hour.” He said bluntly, guiding her to a free bed, “So, if it’s all the same with you, Commander Tano, I’d like to keep you under observation.”

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest and refused, “I’m ordering you to check me over and discharge me, or else I’ll discharge myself.”

“I don’t think you’re old enough to discharge yourself, kid.” The clone on the bed beside Ahsoka said, not even looking at her as he rapidly typed on a datapad with one hand.

She glared at him, “Watch your mouth, trooper.”

The clone finally looked at her and offered a cocky smile, “What you going to do about it, Commander?”

Before she could threaten him with having a word with his superior, the medic had swiftly lifted her up and put her on the spare bed, “Sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to outrank you there. If you’re really fine, then this is your chance to prove it.”

Grumbling, she laid flat on the bed, allowing the medic to start his examination. She purposefully turned away from the clone on the bed next to her, “Kix could’ve patched me up in the field; this is completely unnecessary.”

“Cut the attitude before I tell your Master, little one.” The clone behind her said sternly.

“Excuse me?” Ahsoka spun to face him so fast that it hurt her head, “Cut the insubordination before I tell your Commander.” The medic applying bacta to the gashes on her exposed chest chuckled, “What?”

“Nothing, sir.” He was trying to not smile, but failing miserably, “We don’t get to deal with Jedi Padawans very often.” He pointed to her left elbow, causing her to flinch, “That’s fractured. I’ll put it in a sling so you can match with Jet.”

He nodded towards the other clone before walking away. She glared at him, “Who’s your commanding officer?” She wasn’t in the mood to be disrespected after the stunt she just pulled on the planet’s surface.

“General Ki-Adi-Mundi.” He replied without even looking at her, giving all the attention to the datapad on his lap, “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear that Skywalker’s Padawan has been causing trouble in the medbay.”

Ahsoka’s head had started to pound painfully, but it wasn’t something she was willing to mention if she wanted to get out of the medbay as soon as possible.

“I meant your Sergeant.” She hissed. If Anakin found out from Master Mundi that she had been quipping an attitude in the medbay, she would never hear the end of it.

After her left arm had been fixed across her chest, all the medics rushed away to prepare for a severely injured clone that was being evacuated to the cruiser.

Instead of asking for pain relief, she leaned her head against the bed, exhausting herself quickly by using the Force to eliminate the thudding sensation in her montrals.

“Shouldn’t sleep if your head hurts.” She squinted an eye open to see Jet watching her, no longer using his datapad. “Seriously, kid, head trauma is nasty.”

“I haven’t got a head trauma.” She mumbled, closing her eyes again as a wave of nausea washed over her.

“You going to call a medic, or shall I?” He offered.

“You shan’t do anything.” She warned, baring her fangs.  If she had a concussion, she would be out of the campaign for good.

“You just going to collapse on your Master later?” He shook his head, “I know two men who died from sleeping with untreated head injuries. By the time someone noticed, their bodies were cold.”

She knew he was only saying that to scare her, but the distant look in his eyes was unsettling. Settling once more, Ahsoka willed herself to not fall asleep, but she was so tired.

“Flinch!” Jet yelled, causing Ahsoka to snap her eyes open and growl ferally at the clone. He winked at her, “It’s been fourty-five minutes!”

The clone who treated Ahsoka earlier returned, but this time he went to Jet’s bedside. She closed her eyes against the painfully bright lights, only listening to the conversation around her, “I’m happy to discharge you once I redress this.”

Her eyes opened cautiously, wondering how Jet convinced the medic to let him go back to the surface. Then, she saw the mangled and burnt flesh on his arm that was previously slung across his chest. Calling it ‘flesh’ was a compliment. The skin on his forearm was charred black and weeping to expose raw tissue beneath.

Sleeping was out of the question and Ahsoka only heaved once before throwing up her meagre breakfast. “Commander Tano?” Flinch asked, concerned as he teleported to her side, Ahsoka could sense another medic approaching in her disorientated state.

“She has a head trauma.” Jet said casually.

“You di’kut.” She hissed, trying to glare at him, but her eyes landed on his bloodied wound and she vomited again before going unconscious from the pain.

She wasn’t sure how long she slept for, but when Ahsoka awoke with a clearer mind to take in her surroundings, she could tell it was late as the medbay lights had been dimmed. A few medics still milled around, checking on patients, but no more injured clones were being brought it.

“Be lucky to have woken up, kid.” Her sharp eyes allowed her to see Jet’s face, even with the lack of lighting. Her skull still pounded, but it felt like the banthas were walking over her montrals instead of stampeding.

“Weren’t you discharged?” She asked in a whisper.

“Contracted an infection on that dust ball.” He shrugged his injured arm that was once again slung to his chest, “Flinch wants me to be under observation until the morning.”

“And you’re okay with that?” If a member of Torrent were told to stay in the medbay overnight, they would definitely put up a fight, “What are you? A slacker?”

Jet laughed quietly, “I just know when to enjoy a break, kid. Nothing wrong with some prescribed bedrest.”

“So many things wrong with it.” She mumbled, turning when she heard the medbay door open. In walked Anakin, and it took him less than a second to find her bed. “Great.”

“Consider yourself fortunate to have someone visit you.” Jet added as Anakin walked closer.

“Medic commed me.” Was the first thing Anakin said, Ahsoka could see irritation on his face, “When will you learn to tell a medic if you have a headache, Snips?”

She couldn’t think of a reasonable response, so she just rolled her eyes, “It’s nothing serious, Master.”

Ahsoka sat up, ready to leave, but Anakin pushed her back to the bed, “Not so fast, my young Padawan, you’re still under observation until the morning.”

“Ugh, seriously?!” She groaned. It was just a stupid knock to the head; she’d overheard Flinch tell Jet that she had been cleared for a concussion. She wasn’t even in intensive care, so Anakin was just being dramatic.

“Guess that makes us twins, Tano. We get to eat breakfast together.” She heard Jet mutter.

Anakin looked at the clone suspiciously and Ahsoka smiled; he was going to be in so much troub- “I hope my Padawan hasn’t caused you any trouble, Commander Jet.”

Her mouth dropped open.

Sat next to her with an infected burn on his forearm was the Commander of the flametroopers. Despite being attacked in the caves by Geonosian warriors, the flametroopers were the first group to make the rendezvous point.

She’d heard stories about Commander Jet but her foggy brain hadn’t been able to put the pieces together. She felt her the chevrons on her lekku darken, “You’re Commander Jet?”

“You didn’t know?” Anakin accused, only worsening her embarrassment. “Wow, Snips, you’ve been sheltered.” He chuckled with the flametrooper, “Keep an eye on her, Jet, and don’t let her give you any lip.”

“Don’t worry, General.” Jet grinned at her, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t cause a nuisance.”

Anakin patted her shoulder that wasn’t in a sling, “I’ll be back in the morning to discharge you.”

Her lekku were nearly black. Under Republic laws, Ahsoka was a child and therefore, she had to rely on her Master to discharge her from the medbay, even if the medics cleared her.

Anakin knew how much this embarrassed her, and he purposefully went out of his way to make the whole situation more intolerable. This usually involved him saying something like; ‘Well, aren’t you going to thank the medics for looking after, cleaning and feeding you, Ahsoka?’, ‘This isn’t a hotel, you know’ and ‘Some poor Republic citizen is working hard to pay taxes for you to be treated in a facility like this, Snips’.

“I knew you weren’t old enough to discharge yourself, kid.” Jet muttered as Anakin walked away. She was about to respond with something just as snarky, but then she remembered who she was talking to.

All she could do was hope that Jet was discharged before she was. She was treated like a child enough, and if Jet saw Anakin in full dad-mode, there would be no way to salvage her reputation.

When Ahsoka spent her first night in a civilian hospital, a year after leaving the Order, she was told that she was free to discharge herself. Nobody had come to visit her, she didn’t need Anakin’s permission to leave, and there was nobody to talk to. For the first time in a long time, she wished she was a child again.

In order to be treated like an adult, something that Ahsoka had always wanted, she had to leave the only home she’d ever known. That hurt more than any injury.

Chapter Text

“This is our joint.” Blackout jerked his head towards the rundown bar. Ahsoka nodded once, allowing his arm to heavily drape around her shoulders as they entered.

Silence descended when they entered, and the atmosphere soon became sour at the sight of newcomers. Even in civilian attire, the two military officers were drawing attention.

She slid closer to Blackout as several Rodian men started to scan her scantily clad body up and down. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, confidently walking them to the bar.

“Rough night for business?” He asked casually, sitting on the stool and jerking Ahsoka to sit on his knee. She suppressed a squeal and tried to relax.

“Every night a rough night for business.” The bartender was hostile as he spoke to them, “People like you keep coming and thinking you welcome everywhere. No wonder my customers always on edge.”

Ahsoka scanned their surroundings as Blackout made conversation. They had been sent to the lower levels of Coruscant to deal with a case of illegal weapon dealing. The Republic authorities had been tracking a notorious dealer for months, but they hadn’t made a successful arrest. So, the job had fallen into the hands of a Jedi Padawan and a clone Commander.

Their target hadn’t made an appearance yet, and after ensuring there weren’t any immediate threats to deal with, Ahsoka tuned back into the conversation, “…You say Parid owes you money? Well, Parid used to come here all the time, but now he rich, he ain’t got time for little joints like this.”

“He’s more of a low-life than I thought.” Out of all the clones Ahsoka had met, Blackout was the best at acting. With his many facial tattoos and completely black outfit, he looked like a dangerous smuggler, and the addition of a young woman on his lap only added to the act. “We’ll get some drinks then, wait around for a bit.”

They sat in a booth for a while, Ahsoka keeping an eye on the door and Blackout communicating with the GAR to see where Parid had last been sighted. This bar had been the number one hotspot of the weapon dealer, and it was unlike criminals to change their spot.

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at an approaching Rodian. Blackout noticed her tense up and matched her glare as the Rodian placed a drink in front of Ahsoka, “How much for a night with you, princess?”

“More than you can afford.” Blackout replied darkly.

The Rodian looked at him as if he hadn’t noticed her escort yet. He raised his hands in surrender, “Togruta’s are rare, man, I lost the one I bought off Kadavo.”

The wounds that Kadova left were still fresh in Ahsoka’s mind and she didn’t try to stop herself, “Is that all we are to you?”

Blackout dug his nails into her back, making her squirm. He smiled at the Rodian, “Get lost, pal.”

Grudgingly, the Rodian left the bar and Blackout released his grip on her shoulder blade. “We need to keep up our act.”

“We can keep up our act without me being treated like a pleasure slave.” She hissed.

“You need to act promiscuous if you want to get close enough to Parid to arrest him.” Blackout told her, “Or were you not listening in the briefing?” The glint in his eyes was identical to Fives when he was teasing the Padawan.

“Of course, I was listening.” She reached for the drink that the Rodian left her, but Blackout knocked it over in lightning speed, “Hey! I was thirsty!”

“It was probably drugged anyways.” He replied with a shrug, watching the pink liquid cover the table, “Intel said Parid’s on his way.”

“What’s the plan when he does arrive? She asked casually, not willing to admit that she hadn’t paid attention to every detail of the debriefing.

“You have no idea what ‘promiscuous’ means, do you?” Blackout smirked at her.

The chevrons on her lekku darkened as she looked away from his intimidating stare, “Not exactly.”

He started to chuckle, catching Ahsoka off guard, especially when she felt the vibrations of his chest without touching him. Blackout stood, scanning the occupants of the bar, “Watch this.”

With confident strides, he walked towards one of the only women in the bar, a middle-aged Twi’lek. Ahsoka was too far away to hear what Blackout said but he was smirking, and the woman responded with a smile.

Within seconds, Blackout’s hands were on her hips and his tongue was down the Twi’lek’s throat. Ahsoka gagged, turning her head away from the scene. She had never watched people kiss, and she was honestly grateful that the Temple had shielded her from those sorts of things.

The pair separated, but their hips remained pressed together as the Twi’lek jerked her head to one of the back rooms, making Blackout chuckle so deeply that Ahsoka felt it more than heard it, even from across the bar. A hint of jealousy swelled in her chest, which didn’t make any sense. Blackout had the freedom to do whatever- or whoever- he liked, but it felt wrong considering he had just turned the Rodian man away from her.

“See? Easy as pie!” Blackout exclaimed; his cheeks slightly pink as he sat next to Ahsoka once again. She was certain her lekku were nearly black and she could only hum in response. Blackout placed a credit chip on the table in front of her, “That’s how you act promiscuously to get what you want.”

Ahsoka looked at the blushing Twi’lek woman and then at the credit chip, “You stole from her?”

“You’ll have to arrest Parid by doing that,” He said innocently, “I was showing you how to do it.”

How was she meant to seduce a weapon dealer if she couldn’t even watch Blackout kiss some random woman?

She had to tell him that she couldn’t do this, it was the right thing to do. Maybe, the GAR could find someone else to send to arrest Parid, but then the Council may not ever send her on another mission like this again.

Panic swallowed the Padawan and he instantly noticed, “What’s wrong?”

She’d faced Siths, masses of droids and Anakin in his bad moods; this was nothing. But what if he laughed? Or got annoyed? Or- “You’ve never kissed anyone, have you?”

Her eyes snapped up to his, “How did you know?”

The corner of Blackout’s lips turned upwards, “You’re an open book, Ahsoka.” His hand slid to engulf hers and he dragged her out of the booth, “Come on, let’s get this sorted out before Parid arrives.” He pulled her towards the exit, “We have five minutes, tops.”

“Where are we going?” She asked, following him down an alley not far from the bar. “Blackout?” Before Ahsoka could pull her hand away out of his grip, Blackout’s lips crashed onto hers.

Her first reaction was to scream in shock, but Blackout firmly held her hips in place, locking their lips together and preventing her from pulling away. He pushed her forwards until she felt the cold wall against her back, and they briefly broke apart for air.

Blackout didn’t stop for long. He took Ahsoka’s chin and tilted her head to the side, which made her automatically close her eyes. Their lips touched again- softer this time- and Ahsoka pressed a hand against Blackout’s warm chest to steady herself.

She became aware of how heavy her heart was thudding in her chest, and she could feel Blackout’s own beneath her palm. She could taste whatever alcohol the Twi’lek had been drinking when her tongue darted across his hard, chapped lips.

Both of his hands returned to her waist, pinning her hands to her side and she felt the heat of his chest evaporate from her palm. Seeking the warmth of him once more, she leaned forwards, hoping to feel his body against hers but a clicking sound pulled her back to reality.

Blackout chuckled as he pulled away just enough that Ahsoka could still feel his warm breath fanning across her face, “Easy as pie.”

Glancing down, Ahsoka gasped to see her wrists in handcuffs. Had she really been that easily distracted? Blackout lifted her chin so their eyes could meet, “Distract Parid the way I distracted you, and this mission will be easy.”

She swallowed hard and licked her lips, faintly tasting the booze and Blackout’s scent, “I can’t.”

“You can and you will.” He removed the cuffs and pressed them into her palm, “If in doubt, fake it until you make it.”

They both froze, their heavy breaths being the only sound as they heard someone walking past the end of the alleyway. They whispered at the same time, “Parid.”

Blackout glanced down at her, “You ready?”

She took a deep breath, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

With his hand around her shoulders again, they re-entered the bar and tracked down the Kessurian weapon dealer. He was alone, which wasn’t what they expected, so both soldiers were on high alert.

Blackout sat opposite the criminal, letting Ahsoka perch on his lap once more, “Mr Parid, it’s good to meet you at last.” Her partner said, playing the role of one of Parid’s clients. “What can you offer?”

“I can get you anything you need; detonators, guns, tanks.” He puffed smoke through a pipe, reminding Ahsoka of Cad Bane, but with less swagger. “In terms of pay…” He nodded at Ahsoka, “She’s a beauty.”

This was it. Ahsoka discreetly licked her swollen lips and wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt. Blackout nudged her off his lap, “She is. Show him, baby.”

She scurried to Parid with as much grace as a gungan. Parid stuck out his grubby hands, grabbing her waist and pulling her onto his lap. Ahsoka forced a smile whilst trying to get comfortable and calm her racing heart. Blackout was right behind her, and he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

Without delaying her torture, Ahsoka took Parid’s face in her hands and pushed her lips to his. Unlike Blackout, Parid didn’t take control and it was up to her to set a rhythm. Ahsoka closed her eyes and tilted her head to the right, trying to remember Blackout’s movements in the alleyway.

Accessing the Force, she enforced a slight suggestion on his undefended mind, one that would make him relax as she found his hands that were on her waist. His teeth carelessly caught her bottom lip, making her jump a little, but she tried to play it off by adjusting her position on his lap.

Ahsoka clicked the cuffs around his wrist, pulling away from Parid’s mouth. His expression turned sour quickly and Blackout chuckled, “I’ll give you the honour, Ahsoka.”

“My name’s Commander Tano of the Grand Army of the Republic.” She said, trying not to smile, “You’re under arrest for illegally dealing weapons to the Separatists under the Weapon and Safe Use Act, Section A21. You don’t have to say or do anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court.”

“Aren’t you a smart little thing.” She could tell Parid was embarrassed to be caught, even if he was trying to hide it. Ahsoka slid off his lap and hauled him upright. “I guess I had this coming.”

“Don’t try to guilt trip us, Parid.” Blackout sighed, standing up and taking the criminal’s arm tightly, “We can’t cancel reservations at the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Centre.”

Parid grumbled as Ahsoka and Blackout walked him out of the bar and towards the speeder. Once Blackout secured their friend in the back, he took the passenger seat whilst Ahsoka drove, “How did you know which section of the Weapon and Safe Use Act he had violated?”

“I didn’t; I took some of your advice.” She took her eyes off the speeder lanes to grin at him, “Fake it until you make it, right?”

Blackout laughed loudly and care-free, “Right.”

Anakin met them at the entrance of the detention centre, and Ahsoka couldn’t keep the smile off her face when she saw his proud expression. “Nice work, Snips.” He glanced at her escort, “Another successful mission under your belt, Commander Blackout.”

“All in a day’s work, General.” They passed Parid to the clone guards who led him inside the facility. “Hopefully, Ahsoka learnt something as well.”

“She tends to pick up on bad habits, at least she’s picked up mine.” Anakin teased, not sensing her embarrassment that she hid with a smile. Her Master frowned at her, “Did someone punch you, Snips? Your lip looks swollen.”

“Uh…” She lifted a hand and grazed her lips that were puffy and warmer than normal, “No, that’s just, um-” Anakin raised an eyebrow at her, and she cast a desperate look at Blackout.

“We followed the Council’s brief to the letter, sir.” The clone said with a shrug, “I didn’t let any harm come to your Padawan.” Thankfully, that was all that needed to be said.

“Glad to hear it.” Anakin started walking towards his own speeder, and the two Commanders followed without being told to. “You should be very grateful, Ahsoka, that you have so many fellow Commanders to teach you things that I cannot.”

“I am, Master.” She smiled at Blackout. She had a feeling she wouldn’t forget what he taught her. “Can you give me a minute to give Blackout my thanks?”

“Sure, Snips.” He patted her shoulder and then shook Blackout’s hand.

“I’ll tolerate her again if I have to, General Skywalker.” Blackout said before Anakin climbed into his speeder. With a mock salute, the elder Jedi drove away, leaving them alone. Blackout turned to her, smirking, “I feel like I owe you a drink after that.”

Anakin would be off galivanting around Coruscant, getting up to Force knows what, until the early hours of morning. Besides, he wasn’t the sort of Jedi to raise an eyebrow at his Padawan hanging out with clones off the battlefield.

“Maybe some pie?” She proposed hopefully.

“Now, that’s a plan!” He extended a hand to her, and she took it.

Chapter Text

“Remember your purpose.” Skywalker told Tano before he and Kenobi left the Togruta and clone Commander in the street.

Bacara scrutinised the Padawan, like he had been doing since they met before deployment to Onderon, and noticed a longing look in her eyes. She had been undoubtedly distracted by one of the young, male rebels who they were advising.

In Bacara’s books, having a distraction was the easiest way to be killed on the battlefield.

“I guess that leaves us.” Tano eventually said, turning to him, “We should go back to the others.”

“And watch you drool over Bonteri? No thanks.” He told her bluntly before jerking his head towards the market area, “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

She pursed his lips at his first comment, but at the proposal of food- good food- she softened her expression. “What about the others?”

“They aren’t exactly famished like the rebels I met on Tatooine.” He said with a shrug. It only took three steps until he heard the patter of feet behind him, and Tano was suddenly by his side, “You a meat eater?”

“I’m a Togruta.” She replied, a hint of confusion in her tone. When he glanced at her, she bared her sharp canines at him.

“I met a Jedi who didn’t eat meat once.” He explained, “Got real offended when he opened his ration pack.” The smile faded off his face before it had really formed. “Us clones don’t understand how you can pack muscle on without eating meat.”

“Hm.” Tano replied, paying him no attention whatsoever. He knew exactly who she was thinking about.

He watched her stirring the stew they bought from a market stall. It was a pricey broth, but it was worth it considering the amount of veg and meat in it. Bacara ate his portion quickly, not savouring the flavour in exchange for digesting the food as quickly as possible.

Jedi were strange creatures; he had always known that for a fact. Skywalker was reckless to the point of stupidity, although Bacara had a lot of respect for all the victories under his belt. Tano, from what he had seen so far, was also a good fighter and leader, but she showed a lot of compassion for the rebels, which wouldn’t help them take back their planet.

In the 21st Nova Corps, compassion was a foreign concept. In fact, any marine who was spotted making small talk with civilians would have pictures of the encounter posted across the mess hall walls.

Jedi were weird when it came to compassion. Their Code forbid attachment, but they were encouraged to help others at every opportunity, dedicating their entire lives to doing good for others.

“Remember you purpose.” He thought out loud, “What did Skywalker mean by that?”

“He meant that I should remember my role as a Jedi.” Her gaze slowly lifted to meet his, but she couldn’t hold eye contact for very long. Instead, Tano settled for looking at the collar of his jacket, “We’re not warriors, like you.”

“Like me?” He snorted, “I think Skywalker’s killed more sentients than me.”

“Possibly.” He was slightly surprised that she agreed with him. Tano tilted her head to watch the bustling market to the left of their table, “But Jedi always try to use diplomacy first. That’s where we differ from clones.”

“Right, diplomacy. Funny how we didn’t cover that when we were training the rebels.” Besides that point, he ignored her insult about the Jedi being superior over clones in the way they resolved conflict, “What’s your history with Bonteri?”

Her eyes shot back to his and narrowed, “Bit personal, Bacara.”

Bacara shrugged and rolled his wrist, “Would you rather I ask him instead?”

“No!” Defensive. A smirk flicked across his lips. Tano noticed her mistake immediately and let out a sigh, “Lux and I met on Raxus, but we were reunited when he dragged me along to meet up with Death Watch.”

“Mandalorian terrorists? Great.” Bacara leaned back on the bar stool, wishing he made his concerns about the Separatist boy known to Skywalker and Kenobi sooner, “I knew we couldn’t trust him.”

“After he dragged you, a Jedi, to pay a visit to the Death Watch?” Bacara grimaced; he had heard the rumours about the way Death Watch treated Force-wielders, and it was hard to imagine Tano’s body cut up into chunks with her head on a spike.

That’s what you got for trusting Separatists. Though, she had survived, so his respect for her increased a little. A little.

“You can’t say ‘Jedi’ without your gaze hardening.” She commented, catching him off guard. Even with his goggles on, she could read him well. This was another reason why he generally avoided Force-users; they were so damn nosy. “Does the word taste bitter in your mouth or something?”

“Like poison.” He said without meaning it, only backtracking when her face crumpled. He may have disliked their ideals, but Bacara did not want to face Skywalker after making his Padawan cry. “No offense, but clones should hate Jedi and Jedi should hate clones, even if we fight on the same side.”

She pursued her lips, unconvinced, and he sighed, “What do Jedi train and live for?”

“Peace.” She replied, her stare solid. In that moment, she looked nothing like a child as she defended her religion.

“And what do clones train and live for?”

One of her eye markings rose, “Again, peace.” So naïve.

“War.” He corrected, “Violence. Flesh killing-machines.”

Her expression changed from confused to appalled in a heartbeat, “Bacara, that’s a horrible thing to say!”

“Well, it’s the truth.” He said with a casual shrug, “The purpose of clones is violence, and the purpose of Jedi is peace.” Tano’s jaw clenched, like she wanted to protest, but she couldn’t. “Somewhere, something has gone wrong. Apart from Umbara,” He didn’t miss her flinch at the mention of that kriffing nightmare of a planet, “I’ve never heard of problems between clones and Jedi. It makes no sense.”

“Clones may have been bred to fight, but they fight for peace.” She replied coolly, levelling him with a glare that was worthy of his own, “Remember your purpose, Bacara.”

“Remember yours, peacekeeper.” He quipped back, “Clones were bred to be led into battle by Jedi. Which one of us has given up our beliefs- our purposes- to aid the other? All I’ve seen in my short lifetime is a whole lot of war, and not a lot of peace.”

“What even is peace?” Tano’s youthfulness returned as she gestured widely with her arms. How was she expected to remember her purpose if the Order didn’t even have a clear definition of what peace was to begin with?

Bacara subconsciously scanned the civilians surrounding them, aware that they couldn’t draw too much attention whilst on enemy territory, but nobody was paying them any mind.

“I can’t answer that, Commander.” His embedded inferiority to the Jedi returned at her direct question, but he shook himself out of it, “It isn’t the clone army, that’s for sure. And, by those standards, I don’t think the Jedi count as peaceful people either.”

Tano looked back down into her stew that was more than half full and probably cold by now. Bacara recognised the same confusion radiating off the Padawan that he saw in shinies who were thrown onto an unfamiliar planet. Wanting to help her understand, he looked around for inspiration.

“Doesn’t this look peaceful to you?” He nodded out to the street where civilians happily lived their lives; trading goods, eating and speaking cheerfully with droid patrols. The chaos that the rebels caused less than an hour ago was nothing more than a memory.

“It does.” She breathed, watching the scene with a slight smile on her lips, then she glanced at him, “I don’t get your point though.”

“Let me explain.” He pointed to a couple buying fruit less than twenty metres away from the two Commanders, “They seem happy, right? Peaceful?”

“Sure.”

“Well, what you can’t see is that their relationship is falling apart.” The smile dropped off her face instantly, “He just lost his job, and she’s tired of cleaning up after his lazy shebs all day. Not so peaceful anymore, right?”

For a moment, he worried that he had confused her even more. Tano’s brow furrowed, “Give me another example.”

“That old woman selling fish.” He jerked his head towards the frail civilian laughing with a customer as they handed her credits, “Seems like she’s got her life together, but really, she is earning for her entire family, after her partner was injured in battle.”

“So, what you’re trying to say is that… Forgive me, Bacara, philosophy has never been my strong suit.” Tano watched the woman for a few seconds longer before turning back to the table. He waited for her to try, “We see people as peaceful, but it could just be a façade?”

“Not could be.” He corrected lightly, “Some people are simply better at hiding their problems than others. Has there any been a point in your life where you’ve been utterly at peace with no problems at all?”

She frowned and thought for a few moments, “Not since the war began, but before than…” He raised an eyebrow when she struggled to find an example to disprove his point. Her shoulders deflated in defeat, “I guess not. That sucks.”

“No need to get upset about it.” He reassured, “Perhaps being entirely at peace isn’t as good as the Jedi think it is.”

“Life would be boring without any problems.” She admitted with a sigh, gazing across the market. He knew she was thinking about Bonteri again. “Although, I think there are too many problems in the universe right now.”

“I agree.” He drained the rest of the water from his canteen, “All I’m trying to say is that the Jedi have made their lives impossible by calling themselves keepers of the peace.” Laughter bubbled in his chest, “There was no peace to begin with. None that was worth fighting to keep, anyways.”

“I’d drink to that.” She said cheekily.

“Who’s been teaching you about alcohol?” He asked, feigning surprise.

“Commander Cody.” She replied with a grin. Bacara rolled his eyes; of course, the 212th Commander was showing the Padawan how to drink. “What about clones?”

“What about us?”

“Well, you just slagged off the Jedi Order and our core beliefs, but clones aren’t perfect either.”

“Clones aren’t perfect because we don’t tie ourselves down to unachievable goals, such as restoring peace to the entire galaxy and all its civilians.” He smirked, “We have the easy job.”

“Of being- quote- ‘flesh killing-machines’? Doesn’t sound easy to me.” She finally carried on eating her meal which would start being consumed by flies if she wasn’t fast enough.

He scoffed, “We do our jobs, Tano. We follow orders and kill whatever or whoever the Jedi order us to. Not my fault you guys get the blame for being warmongers.”

After Tano finished her stew, they started to walk back to the rebels’ temporary base. The Jedi had been slightly quiet since their heated discussion, and Bacara didn’t blame her. He had given her a lot to think about, and that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Do you think I look peaceful?” She suddenly asked as they neared the entrance.

Bacara frowned down at her, “I’d say so.” By that, he meant she would probably hesitate before killing another being.

“So, what am I hiding?” She looked up to him with wide, hopeful eyes that demanded an answer to her every question.

Now, he realised why the Jedi were so good at enforcing their beliefs onto the next generations. They picked the ones who wanted to be good citizens of the galaxy; the ones who would willingly sacrifice themselves to improve the lives of others.

Did she expect him to start guessing all sorts of interpersonal problems to her face? There would be no way of surviving Skywalker’s wrath.

He answered humorously, “Your crush on Bonteri, of course.” And instantly jumped away to avoid her first punch, “You asked!”

Chapter Text

Monnk had been working with General Fisto long enough to know that he hadn’t been doing his job right if he could get the water out of his ears after one attempt. The SCUBA clones liked to consider themselves as elite- up there with ARC troopers- and Monnk expected his soldiers to be as competent in the water as their Nautolan Jedi General.

When he heard that Torrent Company would be joining them on a mission to Mon Calamari, he didn’t even think about the potential issues of taking a group of land clones and their Jedi into the water. Everything went off without a hitch, and it wasn’t until their evac to the cruisers when Monnk noticed that something was wrong with Torrent’s Commander.

A skilled warrior, and a well-spoken diplomat, Commander Tano had impressed Monnk throughout the campaign on Mon Calamari. She obviously cared very much about her men, and that was evident in the way she was happily chatting to every clone on their gunship at the start of their journey.

Suddenly, she wasn’t.

Monnk caught a glimpse of her leaning against the back wall, arms wrapped around her middle defensively. At first, he thought she had been injured, and his feet automatically moved towards her, but then he noticed her quickly rising chest, drooping eyes and less than vibrant sienna skin.

“Commander Tano?” He touched her shoulder and felt the chill of her body through her saturated wetsuit and his gloves.

Tired eyes blinked at him slowly, “Hey, Monnk, w-what’s up?” Her lower lip trembled as she spoke. The fact that she wasn’t shivering, but felt like ice, put one word into Monnk’s mind: hypothermia.

He was no medic, and none of his men had ever developed the potentially life-threatening condition due to their naturally high body temperatures, so he was at a bit of a loss. There were lots of rules about how fast you could heat someone up if they were showing symptoms of hypothermia, and he didn’t want to make things worse. He wished a medic was on their gunship, but most of them had already been evaced with the worst of the wounded.

First thing first, he lowered Commander Tano to sit on the floor; she probably needed to save as much energy as possible. His panic heightened when the Togruta didn’t struggle, protest or even ask what he was doing, she was close to going unconscious.

Next, he activated his comm and contacted the cruiser, “This is Monnk, we have a suspected case of hypothermia on gunship 484. Can you put me through to a medic?”

“Copied, Commander, patching you through now.” A member of comms said.

By now, the other men on gunship had noticed that something was wrong and were all watching the Padawan who’s head kept on drooping backwards, her eyes partially closed, “Hey, Commander, stay with me.” Monnk tapped her cheek, but her eyes couldn’t even focus on him.

“This is Coric from Torrent, what’s the situation?”

“Commander Tano’s showing symptoms of hypothermia.” He said, “Feels like ice, she’s coming in and out of consciousness.” He took Commander Tano’s wrist, glad to find her pulse wasn’t slowing down- although it was weak- “We’re twenty minutes from the closest cruiser.”

Commander Tano’s eyelashes fluttered, “C-Coric?... I’m c-c-cold…”

“I know you are, Ahsoka, just hang tight until you get to me.” The medic replied, “Keep her awake, Commander, and if you can, use your body heat to raise her core temperature. Avoid putting pressure on her limbs, and don’t give her anything to eat or drink.”

“Roger that; meet you on the cruiser.” He lowered his comm just when Commander Tano slumped into his arms. “Kriff…” He muttered, feeling how cold her saturated wetsuit was. He needed to warm her up and fast. The medic said he should use his own body temperature to raise hers.

Monnk sighed, starting to remove his chest plate and undersuit, so only the bottom half of his armour remained on. Then, he was faced with the considerable harder task of getting Commander Tano out of her wetsuit.

He could tell the other clones in the gunship were turning from concerned to uncomfortable by the second. “Give us some privacy.” He ordered, noting that some of the veterans chuckled before turning around. His cheeks heated up; that was not what he meant.

He could ask General Skywalker to stop rumours going around, but he wouldn’t stand a chance if his Padawan didn’t make it. He had to do this; it was part of his duty to the Republic.

With delicate hands, he removed the suit, feeling Commander Tano stir as her already cold skin came into contact with the chill of the gunship atmosphere. Thankfully, her lack of body hair meant that the water easily slid off her skin and wouldn’t freeze her skull. Although, it probably wasn’t good for montrals to get too cold either.

Lifting the small, naked Togruta onto his lap, Monnk shivered at the contrast of cold against his warm skin. Commander Tano exhaled a shaky gasp before pressing herself to his chest, resting her cool palms on his shoulders.

“Easy, Commander.” He murmured when her breathing picked up. Panicking wouldn’t help her condition. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

He wrapped one arm around her back, and the other just under her rump to keep her off the cold floor of the gunship. Commander Tano settled quickly, gripping onto Monnk’s waist with her legs.

One of his reliable Sergeants unfolded a foil blanket and stepped forwards out of the group of spectating clones. Monnk gave him an appreciative smile, “Thanks, Club, you’re a lifesaver.” Literally.

Looking down at the Padawan in his arms, Moonk was relieved to see her lower lip wasn’t trembling anymore, but what did he know about how hypothermia affected Togrutas? He barely understood his own Jedi.

“How’re you holding up, Commander?” He whispered down to her, tightening his hold on her without nudging her limbs.

“You’re warm.” She murmured, no longer slurring her speech.

Monnk chuckled, “Clones are always warm, Commander.” She murmured again in response, resting her head just under his chin. Her montrals were pointy and the feeling of her lekku curling against his left pectoral felt peculiar against his skin.

He’d once heard the Twi-leks and Togrutas subconsciously moved their lekku when they felt pleasured, and his cheeks heated up again, catching Club’s attention, “You alright, sir?”

“Fine.” He forced out, trying not to think that he was holding a naked, female Jedi close to his chest, saving her life with his own body heat. “What’s our ETA?”

“Eight minutes, sir.”

“Right.” Just eight more minutes and then the actual medics could take over. It might have been his imagination, but Moonk could’ve sworn that Commander Tano was beginning to warm up.

The Padawan didn’t release her death-like grip on Monnk when the gunship landed in the Resolute’s hanger, he was sure to have some bruises on his shoulders that his brothers would raise eyebrows at.

The medic who he spoke to over the comm was waiting for them with a drip, gloves on and a fairly large needle in his hand. Monnk had to look away when the needle was inserted into Commander Tano’s arm, making her whimper, “It’s alright, ma’am, it’s just the medic.”

“You’ve saved her life, sir.” The medic had taken a temperature reading, and judging by their calm expression, Monnk had to assume Commander Tano’s condition was no longer life-threatening.

“Ahsoka!” General Skywalker sprinted towards them with Senator Amidala close on his heels, droplets of water flinging off the pair as they ran. The Jedi’s panic wouldn’t help the Padawan who was slowly becoming more alert, but Monnk didn’t stand a chance at keeping them apart. “Coric told me what happened, I’ll take her.”

Monnk was fully prepared to hand her over, but the medic stood between the Jedi and his student. Quite a risky position to put oneself in. “No changing position until her temperature rises. Commander Monnk is the only thing keeping her over 35°.” His face softened when he looked at General Skywalker, “She’ll be alright, sir, just needs to sleep under a thick blanket for a few hours.”

Coric was serious about no position changing. Monnk carried Commander Tano all the way to the medbay and once they were there, he had to sit on the bed with Commander Tano curled up on his lap like a loth-cat.

He knew he wasn’t comfortable, but he had no idea how Commander Tano could maintain such an awkward position for so long. He’d forgotten what having toes felt like, and the sensation of pins and needles was becoming normal.

Even when the saline drip finished, and Commander Tano’s temperature was borderline normal, she never released him. As she recovered, her snippy attitude returned and Monnk had to listen to her snarky remarks about how much she hated being cold.

“Okay, Commander Tano, fun’s over. You’re fine.” Coric said. He put a clean set of her usual attire on the edge of the bed, “You’ve made Commander Monnk miss the debriefing, and if you don’t leave now, Skywalker will think there’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“Aw, Coric.” Commander Tano pouted, only tightening her legs around Monnk’s waist. According to the HoloNet research he’s done whilst the Togruta napped, people tended to be overly affectionate and sensitive after suffering from hypothermia.

“It’s fine, really.” He protested, but he would quite like an opportunity to stretch his legs; his muscles were going stiff.

He met the medic’s eyes and a frown grew on Coric’s face. Without asking, he pressed his knuckles to Monnk’s forehead, his hand felt insanely hot. “Ahsoka, get off him. Kix, I need another 200ml of warm saline!”

“For kriff’s sake.” Monnk groaned; that explained why he felt so rough. He was meant to be Commander of the SCUBA troopers, and developing hypothermia wasn’t supposed to be on his list of achievements.

“But, Monnk…” Commander Tano’s tone was teasing as she finally climbed off his lap, wrapping a blanket around her tightly. “I thought you told me that clones are always warm.”

“You couldn’t have been that ill if you remember me saying that.” Monnk said as Coric was busy stripping off the bottom half of his armour. “Don’t think you’re just going to leave either. I expect you to at least return the favour of holding me for the next three hours.”

Commander Tano raised an eye marking at him, and Monnk groaned again. His face burned as heat rushed to his cheeks and stung against his cold skin; that was not what he meant.

“Don’t worry, Commander, I won’t let her get away so easily.” Kix approached with a needle that made him gulp, “Ahsoka’s going to hold your hand whilst I put in your IV.”

Both Commanders paled, and Monnk grabbed Commander Tano’s hand, refusing to let go. She squeezed his hand tightly, “Get it over and done with, Kix, before I change my mind.”

Chapter Text

Ahsoka was one minute too late.

Colt had called for reinforcements, and suddenly the only thing she heard over her comm was his strangled breaths. After ensuring her men could hold their own, Ahsoka had sprinted to where the Rancor Battalion Commander had been fighting.

His cheek was still warm, and the hole in his chest still glowed the orangey-red colour that she hated so much. She noticed a red smudge on his cheek that wasn’t blood. Ventress was the only warmonger who liked to play with her victims.

“I’m sorry, Colt, I wish I could’ve saved you.” A tear slipped down her cheek. Colt was a good soldier, and an even better man; he didn’t deserve to die such a horrible death.

“Commander Havoc!” She called out, approaching the blue-armoured ARC trooper on the landing platform. The celebrations of the Republic’s victory had already begun, and Havoc had his helmet off, smiling as he spoke to Rex and Cody.

“Commander Tano.” He greeted in response, “Nice work today.” There were singes of blaster bolts across his pauldron and the front of his helmet which was hooked to his belt. It looked like he’d had a close call, and now she had to tell him that his brother was dead.

“You too.” She tried to smile, but it came out as a wince. She hated this part of war with a passion. The universe should just go to sleep after a battle was won so nobody could find out which friends they had lost. “Rex, Cody, may we have some privacy.”

“I’m afraid I’ve come with bad news.” She said only when Rex and Cody were no longer in earshot. Instantly, the smile fell off Havoc’s face, “Commander Colt didn’t make it.”

Her announcement hit him like a stun bolt. Havoc staggered backwards, prompting Ahsoka to reach out and grab his shoulder. He was heavy and nearly pulled her down as the colour completely drained from his face, but Ahsoka used all her strength to keep him upright.

“Colt…” He gasped, sinking to his knees. Ahsoka was at a loss; she remembered reacting in a similar way when Tap-Nar-Pal died.

Clones had nerves of steel, but the bonds between close brothers were strong. She had learnt that from watching her own men in the aftermath of battle. If someone like Rex died…

She couldn’t even think about how it would affect her.

“Impossible.” He said, his voice weak as his forehead rested on the deck. “He couldn’t have.”

“I’m so sorry.” Kneeling beside Havoc, she rested a hand on his shoulder, wishing she could either take away his pain or bring Colt back from the dead. Both were impossible. “Would you like to see him?”

“I should.” He murmured.

She helped him to his feet. “I’ll come too, if you like.”

Havoc shook his head, “You shouldn’t have to see something like that at your age.”

Ahsoka pressed her lips together; she was four years senior of the eldest clones. “I’ve already seen him, Havoc.” She averted her gaze as his red-rimmed eyes widened, “He called me for reinforcements, and I was too late.”

She bowed her head, expecting him to shove past her to find his brother. Clones looked up to Jedi for always saving the day, and she had failed Colt and his men.

With a firm grip on her shoulder, Havoc spun her around to face Tipoca City. The Trident droids had all been dismantled, but some remained sticking out of buildings, and the bodies of B1s and clone troopers littered the decks. It was a disturbing sight at best.

“Colt grew up here, Commander Tano, and he fought to protect it.” Havoc said, squeezing her shoulder.

“It’s taken a beating.” She thought out loud.

“But it’s still home, and now, it’s no longer under threat.” He told her, “That’s what Colt gave his life for today.”

A shudder ran up her spine as she remembered the mark on Colt’s cheek, “You sure you still want to come with?” Havoc asked, taking on a soft tone that could have challenged Master Kenobi’s.

“Definitely.” Colt died alone, so it was only right that she went with Havoc to see him.

She watched in silence as Havoc knelt beside Colt’s body. There was no telling if he was about to cry or scream, and she only knew it was one of the two because his shoulders were trembling. With his helmet on, it was difficult to tell.

Havoc tenderly ran a hand down Colt’s cheek, stopping with his fingertips on the red mark and Ahsoka’s breath hitched.

“Bitch.” He spat.

She swallowed hard, forcing the tension out of her shoulders, “She has no regard for someone’s life or dignity.”

She could tell he was trying to calm himself, so she sent him a wave of tranquillity to him through the Force. It would go unnoticed, but it would help immensely. After several moments, she sensed that Havoc had composed himself enough to speak.

“Colt was always a ladies’ man.” He barked a laugh, but it sounded choked. Ahsoka kneelt next to him and put a hand on his shoulder, “The girls in 79s used to swarm around him, I would barely see him the entire night.”

“What about you?” She prompted.

“No.” His helmet shook slightly, “Always got nervous, could never hold a conversation with them. Colt and I used to compete, but I gave up. He was much better at it than I was.”

“Well, now you have a chance to catch him up.” She said with a smile. The Blue Shadow Virus had taught her that cracking a joke was the best way to shed a bit of light on a dire situation.

“I guess so.” Havoc laughed again- a real laugh. “Can you grab his helmet?” She called it to her hand with the Force, fingers brushing against the red paint as she passed it to him, “Thanks.”

“Would you like some privacy to say goodbye?” She watched him use a wipe from his personal medkit to get the red mark off Colt’s cheek with as much care as a medic would give to a child.

“Stay, please.” He said, sliding Colt’s helmet back on. Ahsoka felt Havoc’s hand wrap around hers, and she squeezed his fingers, offering all the support she could.

With his other hand, Havoc touched the crown of Colt’s helmet, and she heard him murmur quietly, “Ni cu’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.

She recognised the Mando’a prayer of remembrance and followed it up with her own, “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la.” She said, just as quietly.

Not gone, merely marching far away.

After laying Colt’s DC-15A across his chest, Havoc and Ahsoka stood together. She could tell her fellow Commander didn’t want to loiter or dwell, so she proposed an idea, “This is my first time coming to Kamino, could you give me a little tour?”

His helmet tilted down to her, “Certainly, ma’am.” She could hear the smile in his words. With one last look at Colt’s body, they headed towards the cloning facilities. “Kriff, his body’s only just gone cold and I’m already giving tours of Kamino to females.”

“No time like the present to start catching up with him.” She said, slipping her hand through his elbow. He accommodated her position after a moment of hesitation. Cocking his elbow out, he walked Ahsoka through the hallways, purposefully avoiding the ones where firefight had occurred.

Ahsoka wasn’t sure what to expect from the planet that created and trained every man under her command. She definitely didn’t expect it to remind her so much of her childhood in the Temple.

“We have cushions like those for the younglings.” She stated, pointing through the window of a classroom.

“Kids are kids.” Havoc said with a shrug. It was easier to read his emotions now he had removed his helmet, “Jedi or clone, we all sought some comfort whilst being bred to be soldiers.”

Ahsoka didn’t correct him about Jedi being peacekeepers. She was shocked at how enthusiastic Havoc became as they ventured between training rooms and classrooms. He became so alive when he talked about his home planet.

Havoc had an anecdote for every part of Tipoca City. If the Clone Wars ended and every soldier went out to find a job, he would have no problem reading stories to Jedi younglings. Every sentence started with ‘I have a funny story about this place’ or ‘I remember when Colt…’

Every time Havoc mentioned Colt, the light in his eyes dimmed a little. Ahsoka would reach out and squeeze his hand, waiting until his eyes refocused on her before letting go. She couldn’t heal his grief, only time could, but she could remind him that he wasn’t alone.

Hours passed of exploring and sharing stories. They approached the barracks and Ahsoka had a sinking feeling in her gut. She’d heard a rumour that some of the fighting had occurred there, and dead clone cadets was something that neither Commander needed to see.

“Havoc.” She said, feeling bile rise in her throat, “Are these your barracks?”

He glanced at the door, “No, but they’re all the same.”

“I’d like to see yours, if that’s alright.” She forced a smile to convince him. The Force stunk of death inside the barracks they stood outside, and it was making her dizzy.

“Sure.” He said, a little hesitantly. “Follow me.”

“Thank you.” She breathed, glad to be walking away from the graveyard behind the door.

He was right when he said that all barracks were the same, and she had to remind herself that hundreds of clones had lived there since Havoc and Colt had graduated. She sat on one of the benches beneath the wall of beds, wondering what it would be like to be a clone cadet.

Were they as brave and honourable as the men she fought alongside on the front lines? Or were they more concerned with their test results? When she was a youngling, all Ahsoka wanted was to be a hero- to be idolised. Havoc was a famous clone Commander, but there were also thousands of clones fighting in trenches who didn’t even have names yet.

“Did you always see yourself as an ARC, Havoc?”

He paused from where he was lightly running his fingers along the lockers, turning around to face her, “Colt and I used to talk about it every night, long after curfew.” He glanced up at the sleeping pods, “Kamino could train you for command, but they couldn’t train you to have the qualities of an ARC trooper. It was an honour to be promoted to one.”

Ahsoka nodded, noting the resemblance to her own life. Yoda chose her to be Anakin’s student; she wasn’t allocated a Master like the other younglings. She thought she had lived up to the role well enough. In some ways, she guessed she was an ARC Jedi, but without the pauldron and kama.

The sound of running had both Commanders reaching for their weapons. It was a good thing Ahsoka didn’t ignite her lightsaber as she stood back-to-back with Havoc, or else that would’ve traumatised the seven clone cadets who came rushing around the corner.

“Whoa, slow done, cadets!” Havoc said in his authoritative tone, causing all the young clones to halt. The Commanders broke out of their defensive stances, “What are you doing here?”

“These are our barracks, sir.” One chirped back, his eyes glancing between Havoc’s ARC gear and Ahsoka’s lightsaber, “The battle has been declared over, and we were told to return to our barracks to be counted.”

Counted. These cadets were nothing more than numbers to the Kaminoans- and the Republic. Until they did something seriously heroic, they would forever be their birth designations to everyone except their brothers and, hopefully, their Jedi leaders.

“General Skywalker is looking for you, Commander Tano.” A second cadet said, “We overheard that he was about to send out a search party.”

“Oh dear.” She knew she should’ve told Anakin where she was going. “Well, thank you for informing me.” She turned to Havoc. “Fastest way back to the landing platform, sir?”

“I better escort you back, Commander.” He said, holstering his pistol, “You got lost just going to the fresher between the birth chambers and the DNA room.”

“You’re terrible at giving directions.” It was embarrassing enough that Havoc had to find her wondering aimlessly near the armoury before walking her to the fresher himself. She looked at the cadets who were struggling not to laugh, “These barracks have housed ARC Commanders, cadets, so I hope you’re all on top of your training. Those are some pretty big boots to fill.”

“Yes, ma’am!” They all saluted. She couldn’t imagine Jedi younglings saluting anyone. In fact, children in the Temple were mostly snobby and poorly tempered.

“Good men.” Havoc walked around them, gesturing for Ahsoka to follow him, “Come on, Commander Tano, before the General blows a fuse.”

“Of course.” Before she left, Ahsoka met the eyes of every clone cadet stood in front of her, “I would be honoured to fight alongside any of you in the future. The Republic couldn’t have asked for better soldiers.”

She widened her strides to catch up with Havoc, lifting her chin slightly. “You sure are inspiring, Ahsoka.” He said.

She scoffed, “I wasn’t the one having my pauldron being drooled over.” She smiled at him, “I’m glad that the cadets have men like you and Colt to look up to, Havoc.”

“That means a lot.” He was trying not to grin, but failing, “I’m sure I’ll be able to say the same about you and the Jedi younglings after you give me a tour of the Temple.”

She laughed before realising something, “The 501st were supposed to be going on leave before we got called here. Fancy coming back to Corrie on the Resolute?”

“I don’t know, there’s a lot of clean-up to do here.” He gestured to the decks that they exited the buildings onto, “Then again, I think it gives the place character. Maybe I can leave it to the Kaminoans this time.”

Ahsoka squealed; she had never given someone a tour of the Temple before. “Come on, then!” She grabbed his arm, sprinting to where Anakin was pacing beside a gunship, “Master! Havoc’s coming home with us!”

Chapter Text

“Is the suit really necessary, Senator?” Neyo’s voice was so deep that Ahsoka had to strain to hear him from the lounge.

“Suit? Let’s see!” She said, gleefully grinning at Padmé who was shaking her head.

“No.” He growled.

“Commander, this is a formal event, and all guards and escorts are expected to wear formal dress.” Padmé said, smoothing out her peach coloured dress. It was flattering on her, and Ahsoka wished she could say the same about the crimson one she wore. It was alright and made her feel feminine enough, except that the pocket only held half her lightsaber and she was at high risk of tripping over the hem.

Neyo went quiet; he wasn’t the type of clone Commander to go against a Senator’s orders. Ahsoka turned her attention back to the HoloNet, occasionally picking at the graze on the back of her bicep. It was nothing more than a bruise and a small scab now, and it had stopped hindering her movements in sparring.

She wished she could’ve said the same for Padmé who was hardly using her right shoulder. The injury from their adventure on Alderaan, along with the attempt on her life, had worried Anakin- and the Jedi Council- enough to ask Ahsoka to join Neyo on escort duty. If she wasn’t trying to draw attention before, she definitely would be with two Commanders flanking her for the entire evening.

“It’s a little… tight.” Neyo’s voice was strained from the fresher, and the two women exchanged confused looks.

He walked into the lounge as if he were constipated. The cuffs of the black suit didn’t reach his wrists, and the material stretched around his biceps and shoulders. He looked hilarious.

“Well, why don’t you give us a spin.” Padmé said, hiding her amusement better than Ahsoka who had to turn away.

Neyo staggered around on the spot, revealing the back of his suit which was so taut that the seamline looked ready to give up and fall apart. Ahsoka’s gaze involuntarily landed on his rear, and she felt the chevrons on her lekku darken. She’d seen her men naked before- all Jedi officers had- but Neyo somehow seemed more exposed in this suit than any of the men in the freshers.

“I see what you mean, Commander.” Padmé stepped closer to tug on the front of his suit which wouldn’t fully close for the buttons to do up. Neyo grunted uncomfortably, “No matter; I have suits here that may fit you better.”

Neyo’s brow rose in confusion as Padmé walked towards her bedroom, but Ahsoka had her guesses as to why the Senator had male suits laying around- especially suits that could fit muscular and tall men.

The clone whipped his head back to Ahsoka when her camera let out a loud click, “Whoops…”

“Delete that.” He growled.

“No chance.” She laughed at the picture she had taken; Fives and the guys would find it hilarious. “This is perfect blackmail material.”

“I will gut you.” He glared at her, completely serious.

“Okay, okay; it’s gone.” She raised her hands in surrender, “No need to make threats.” Especially ones where it didn't sound like he was bluffing.

“Who’s making threats?” Padmé asked, gliding silently back into the room. She didn’t wait for an answer, knowing what type of banter Commanders tended to exchange, and passed Neyo a suit, “Here you are.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Did he just smile? Ahsoka rolled her eyes at his attempt of sucking up to Padmé.

“You look so grown up in that dress, Ahsoka.” Her friend commented, sitting next to her, “You must keep it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t, Padmé.” She said a little louder than necessary. Take that, Neyo. Ahsoka lowered her voice, “Anakin would kill me if I brought this home.”

“I’m very good at convincing Anakin to let things slide.” Padmé winked, nudging her gently, “You deserve a nice dress to show off your womanly body. And if your Master has a problem with that, he’ll have to come through me.”

The sound of someone scoffing brought their attention to the fresher door where Neyo stood, fiddling with his cufflinks. How did clones get changed so quickly? In the new suit, Ahsoka couldn’t help but notice how much better it fitted him, he was almost attractive.

“Womanly body.” He laughed. Ahsoka changed her mind; he looked ugly.

“Commander, that was uncalled for.” Padmé scolded tightly, glaring at the man, “Please apologise to Ahsoka.”

She smirked at the clone who tried to discreetly roll his eyes. Neyo wouldn’t apologise to a child he knocked over in the street- “I’m sorry, Commander Tano.”

Her jaw dropped open as Padmé patted her on the shoulder, “Thank you, Neyo. Now, let’s see about some make-up to cover that tattoo.”

It was Neyo’s turn to scowl. Ahsoka stuck her tongue out at him as Padmé stood and walked into the fresher that he had just exited. “Is she serious?” He asked lowly, coming closer to the sofa where she was sat.

As he walked, she caught sight of the DC-17 tucked under his arm and that reassured her that Padmé would be even more protected. Following Aurra Sing’s assassination attempt, Ahsoka had been paranoid.

“It does make you stand out.” She said, sympathising with him a little. She knew that clones were very attached to their tattoos for the very fact that they identified them from their brothers, but this was a formal event. Besides, Neyo didn't need tattoos to be intimidating.

“And your tattoos don’t?” He gestured to her face.

“I was born with these.” She protested, standing up in an attempt to challenge him, but the tops of her montrals barely reached his collar, “And all they do is identify which clan I’m from. Force knows what’s written in Aurebesh down your cheek.”

At the start of war, she made a habit of asking every clone what their tattoos meant, but Rex warned against it and Master eventually put a stop to it. According to Rex, most tattoos either commemorated dead comrades or expressed vulgar language.

“None of your business.” He spat menacingly, towering over her. Ahsoka bared her fangs, letting a predatory growl escape her throat; she didn’t appreciate being spoken down to by someone of the same rank.

“This’ll be a good match, Commander.” Padmé’s footsteps stopped suddenly, “I hope this tension between you two isn’t going to be a problem.”

Ahsoka waited for Neyo to step back, which he did, “Of course not, Senator.” He said.

“I was targeted by an assassin two weeks ago.” She came and stood in between them, the foundation bottle forgotten in her hand, “I understand that this is a low-risk event, but I want to be able to enjoy it without you two being at each other’s throats.”

Ahsoka noticed the line of stress on her forehead and gently touched her uninjured arm, “We won’t let anything happen to you, Padmé.”

“I concur with Commander Tano, ma’am.” Neyo said, earning a small smile from Padmé.

“Well, then,” She looked between them expectantly, “Shake hands and then we can get going.”

Ahsoka stuck out her hand, beating Neyo to making the first move. His hand encompassed hers, and she soon felt her bones grind together as he applied pressure- too much pressure. She kept her expression neutral, glaring at him until he released her, and then lowered her cramping hand to her side.

“Perfect.” Padmé clapped her hands and then remembered the bottle of foundation, “Pardon me, I completely forgot. Take a seat, Commander Neyo, it’ll only be quick.”

The tendons stuck out of Neyo’s neck as he reluctantly sat on the sofa. Instead of spectating, Ahsoka made for the door, “I’ll bring the speeder to the landing platform, Padmé.”

“Thank you, Ahsoka!” She called over her shoulder, shielding Neyo’s face from her view with her dress, “Such a sweet girl.” She heard the Senator say as she left the apartment.

Before meeting Neyo, Ahsoka thought Obi-Wan was the worst backseat driver in the universe, but Neyo put the Jedi to shame.

“You’re meant to signal before you manoeuvre.” He said for the third time since leaving Padmé’s apartment, “What the hell are you doing?! Did you not even use your mirrors before pulling into that lane?”

“She’s doing fine, Neyo.” Padmé said, even though Ahsoka knew Anakin never let the Senator drive ‘for her safety and everyone else’s’.

“Is she even old enough to have a license?” Oh, so now he wanted to get into the age argument.

“Shut up, Neyo, I’m trying to focus.” It was hard enough flying a speeder at this time of night with all the traffic and maniacs hogging the lanes. “Don’t stress yourself out or else your foundation will crease.” She teased.

In fairness, it was hard to tell that Neyo was wearing make-up as Padmé did a good job of blending it to match his skin colour. The only way someone would know was if they had to sit in the speeder and listen to him complaining about how much his face itched.

“Maybe he’s allergic.” Padmé murmured from the passenger seat.

Ahsoka stifled a laugh and raised her voice, “Let us know if your throat swells up!” Neyo groaned so loud that they heard it over the speeder’s engine.

They stepped inside the hall where the party was being held, Padmé turned to them with joy-filled eyes, “Do you mind if you let me on a long leash?”

Neyo and Ahsoka exchanged a look. The other Senators’ guards stood close to the politicians they were guarding, but Ahsoka knew that Padmé wasn’t incapable. Should anything happen, it would only take one Force-jump to be by her side.

Besides, she deserved a little freedom and the right to a care-free night after the disastrous refugee negotiations. Upon entry, the Senator had been eyeing up the champagne bar the same way Cody looked at his flask of Corellian whiskey after a tough mission.

“We’ll keep a low profile. Over there.” Ahsoka said, nodding to the buffet table. “Enjoy your evening, Senator.”

“Thank you.” She said genuinely, squeezing Ahsoka’s hand before floating into the crowd.

Neyo quietened when they entered the event, and she knew clones took their jobs as Senatorial escorts very seriously. Ahsoka tried to learn his routine of checking windows, keeping an eye on everyone who spoke to the Senator and conferring the comm channels.

“Shouldn’t you be using the Force or something?” He asked suddenly, “Instead of just copying everything I do.”

“Nothing wrong with double checking.” She shot back after swallowing the final bite of her second joganberry tart. There was a reason she chose to stand by the buffet table. “I tried to use the Force the last time Padmé’s life was in danger, and she still got shot.”

“You saved her in the end.” She felt his eyes on the mark across the back of her arm, “Sounded pretty badass in the report as well.”

“You read the report?” Ahsoka grabbed two Gamorrean pork filled rolls as she spoke, pressing one into Neyo’s hand. How did he not feel hungry being stood by the food table?

“I read every report regarding the Senators I have to guard.” He said, watching Padmé who was speaking with the Chancellor. Ahsoka noticed a scowl cross over his features. He glanced at the roll in his hand for several seconds before taking a bite.

“Yeah right!” She rolled her eyes playfully. Senator Amidala had a nose for trouble- or so Anakin tells her- so she must have hundreds of reports concerning the scraps she got herself into.

Thinking about her Master brought a question to her mind; “Do you think you can protect someone better if you care about them?”

“The Jedi would probably say no, right?” She shoved her shoulder into his in order to get a serious answer, “Fine. Yeah, I think you can protect someone better if you like or respect them. That’s why I never assign myself to protecting the Chancellor.”

“Neyo!” She hissed, glancing around, “You can’t just say that in a place like this!” The bad thing was, she knew other clones also cared little for the supreme leader of the Republic. It was slightly ironic, sacrificing your life for a guy you wouldn’t even care to protect at a party.

“What’s he going to do? Shoot me?” He shrugged, finishing his roll in the second bite. Before Ahsoka could respond, he hit her hard on the shoulder, “I’m going to do a perimeter sweep. Stay here.”

She watched him saunter towards the crowd of politicians and was glad she didn’t have to mingle with them. Instead, she thought about her last mission to protect Padmé. Ahsoka cared deeply for her friend and had done everything she could to protect her. Would she have done the same for the Chancellor or a Senator she had never met?

Possibly, but that’s just the type of person she was. Neyo was much colder and apathetic, so he must really care about someone to want to protect them. Everything suddenly clicked.

Oh.

“Commander Tano.” She turned to see Neyo with Padmé in tow, hanging onto his arm and giggling hysterically. “I think Senator Amidala is ready to leave.”

“We better take her back to her apartment.” Ahsoka said, noting that Padmé could barely walk in a straight line, and it wasn’t like the Senator to drink in excess. “She’ll have one hell of a headache in the morning.”

“Copy that.”

Padmé stumbled in her heels as they went down the steps to the landing bay where their speeder was parked. She would’ve slapped her face onto the concrete if Neyo hadn’t reacted with Jedi-like speed, grabbing her under the armpits to haul her upright.

“Careful, ma’am.” His tone was restricted as he steadied her. “No accidents tonight.”

“Thanks, Neyo…” Padmé slurred. It may have been the make-up, but Ahsoka could’ve sworn that Neyo’s cheeks took on a rose tint.

Getting her into the speeder had required more brute strength than Ahsoka imagined- and she even had to use the Force. She had to brace her hands on her knees to catch her breath, “You better ride in the back with her.”

“Sure.” Neyo said, wiping the sweat off his brow. His tattoo was starting to show, and several stitches on his suit had ripped- which Ahsoka was sure her Master wouldn’t be too happy about. She’d leave that for Padmé to explain to him.

Ahsoka drove more carefully on the way back to the apartment. It was Padmé’s speeder, but that wasn’t a good excuse to let her vomit on her own leather seats.

Padmé and her dress were bundled up on Neyo’s lap, as the backseat only had enough room for one person. She tried to focus on her driving, but it was impossible to not catch glimpses of Neyo looking at Padmé with concerned eyes.

Padmé’s eyes were closed, but a faint smile was on her lips, so Ahsoka left them be. She wasn’t worried about being attacked on the way back; Neyo would be able to protect her from Separatist invasion with the amount of care he was showing her.

They stood at the end of Padmé’s bed for over seven minutes, watching her snore quietly into the pillow. “Should we stay?” Ahsoka asked, wanting to make sure the Senator would be okay whilst remembering that it was late, and she had class early the next day.

“Might be better to call Skywalker.” Neyo said, sounding dejected.

“Okay.” Ahsoka lifted her comm to her lips, “Master, we’ve brought Senator Amidala back to her apartment. She’s a little… tipsy.” She decided that would be the best way to describe it after sharing a glance with Neyo.

“On my way.” Anakin replied almost instantly.

“Right.” Neyo said, fixing his gauntlets back into place, “Could you give me a ride back to the barracks?”

“I thought you didn’t like my flying, Commander.” She said sweetly, hefting her dress in her arms. “It was Padmé’s speeder anyways, so I guess we’ll have to be subway buddies.”

“No.” He replied, spinning on his heel and leaving the bedroom. Ahsoka raised an eyebrow, still facing Padmé and waiting for Neyo to return, but he didn’t. She heard the front door close and let out a sigh; that guy was impossible.

Sitting on the edge of Padmé’s bed, she decided that she would just take Anakin’s speeder back to the Temple once he arrived. The Senator had stopped snoring, leaving Ahsoka alone with her thoughts.

Could she save everyone she cared about? Force, that was such an Anakin-like thing to think.

Chapter Text

There were many problems in the universe that Bacara couldn’t solve as a lone man, but he felt a personal duty to bring Tano peace after Gerrera dropped to her death from the cliffside.

She was with the body. According to Gerrera’s brother, Tano hadn’t left the body since it was brought back to the palace.

Every Commander hated losing soldiers, especially when it was a preventable death. Bacara knew what Tano was going through from his own experiences. It never got any easier. Death probably wasn’t a new or foreign concept for the Padawan, but being responsible for a death more than likely made it feel like the walls were collapsing inwards on her. He knew how that felt.

“I’m going to find her now, General.” He said into his wrist comm, “I’ll get her to call you.”

“Make sure you do.” Skywalker was less than impressed to hear that Tano had been injured in the firefight, but he was also sympathetic towards the circumstances, “If you can, tell Saw that I’m sorry for his loss.”

“Of course, sir.” He lowered his comm and opened the door.

Tano’s back was to him, facing the covered body on a table. A body that should have been moving, breathing and celebrating the rebels’ victory, not laying motionless under a sheet.

He hadn’t seen the Jedi Commander since the battle begun as he led a strike attack. It felt good, having one of his people around. Someone who didn’t look up to him with such high expectations of safety and survival. War couldn’t guarantee either.

“What would you say if one of your men was sitting next to his dead brother for hours on end?” He started, standing in line with Tano and removing his helmet out of respect.

Bacara knew there was a big difference between mourning and dwelling. Mourning was necessary and healthy; dwelling was not.

“Depends on the context.” Her voice was hoarse from the dust and screaming orders, “Were they the one who killed their brother?”

“Ahsoka.” The use of her first name had her tilting her head to watch him. He extended a hand, “Let’s get out of here.” She hesitated for a moment before gripping his hand. He squeezed her fingers tightly, trying to ground her.

Bacara led her out of the room, and they immediately came face-to-face with Bonteri. A nearly silent gasp escaped Tano’s lips, and her grip on his hand tightened a fraction.

“Bonteri.” Bacara said, but the politician turned freedom fighter’s gaze only shifted from Tano to their interlocked hands. He knew that he had been avoiding her, and that made Bacara angry. “Excuse us.” He pulled Tano past Bonteri, not missing the way she looked over her shoulder afterwards.

“Where are we going?” She asked after several minutes of walking; this palace was kriffing huge.

“Somewhere quiet.” The cheering from outside was giving him a headache, and he wasn’t the one with montrals.

Eventually, he found the maid’s block that was free of rebels. From there, he scouted out a few different cupboards, his concern heightening when Tano showed little to no care about what he was doing.

Finding a cupboard that met his standards, Bacara gently guided Tano inside. The usually alert Jedi barely gave her new surroundings a single glance, and Bacara felt himself starting to panic.

“Say something.” He said, exasperated.

“Something.” Cheeky, but she wasn’t trying to make him laugh, and he didn’t feel like chuckling to humour her. “Why a cupboard, Bacara?”

That was better. “It has a sink.” He pointed out the feature, hoping to make her smile but failing. “And a draining board.”

“Rad.” She muttered, her hand coming up to touch her injured shoulder before she flinched, not even touching the wound, and dropped her hand back to her side.

Bacara couldn’t stand to watch this scene any longer. “Let me show you how it works.” Without waiting a moment longer, he lifted her up and placed her bottom on the draining board. Tano didn’t even fight, protest or squeal.

“What’s the Jedi helpline number? I need a refund because this one’s broken.” He poked her stomach, but his joke fell flat instantly. Tano just sighed and looked at the shelves of cleaning supplies surrounding them. Bacara grimaced, “Sorry; I’m not much of a comedian.”

“Now is not the time to be making jokes, Commander.” The rank card stung. She levelled him with a glare, “I’m tired, upset and in pain. Whatever you’re trying to say, just say it and then I can curl into a hole and die.”

Well, that was morbid.

“First things first.” He took the medkit off his belt and placed it on Tano’s lap, opening it promptly, “Pain. That’s the easiest thing to fix.” He prepared a hypo and noticed her flinch, “Need to hold my hand?”

She shook her head, the chevrons on her lekku darkening in embarrassment. “Look at me.” Once her eyes were off the hypo, he swiftly pressed it against her thigh, allowing the needle to pierce through her leggings.

Besides a small flinch, Tano barely reacted.

Bacara turned on the tap, and the rushing of water snapped Tano out of whatever daze she was having. She watched Bacara wet a clean rag and then gently press it to the wound on her shoulder.

It was a nasty blaster bolt wound that had both an entry and an exit point. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to hit the bone, but it would easily become infected if not treated. Sepsis was the last thing Tano needed right now.

She shivered as the cold water touched the raw, burnt flesh, but other than that, her face remained set like stone. If the circumstances weren’t so dire, Bacara would have been impressed. He’d seen clones rolling around on the floor after similar injuries, crying and screaming that their arm was going to fall off.

Shock had a way of masking pain, even after the adrenaline wore off. With one hand wiping the blood off her shoulder, Bacara lifted one finger of his free hand in front of Tano’s face, “Follow my finger.”

Surprisingly, she could understand his order and complete the task. Although, as soon as his finger left her line of sight, her gaze instantly dropped to her lap again. Frowning, Bacara pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. She was slightly warm than a Togruta’s normal temperature, but she didn’t feel feverish.

“I’m fine, Bacara.” She said, looking more exhausted than he had seen her throughout the entire campaign.

He scoffed, “Fine is not how I would put it. Take these.” He pressed two anti-shock pills into her hand. Tano chucked her head back to swallow them before he presented her with a water canteen, “Drink it all. Small sips.”

She must have been dehydrated because the entire litre was gone in a matter of minutes. Whilst she drank and the pills had time to take effect, Bacara cleaned all the blood away from her shoulder and could now see how bad the damage was.

“How far can you lift your arm?” He asked. She wasn’t paying attention; “Tano.” Her gaze lifted to his and he repeated his question.

She extended the limb outwards, nearly getting it parallel to her shoulder before it started quivering in mid-air. “That’ll do.” He pushed her hand back down when she didn’t do it herself.

He found a tube of bacta paste which would at least prevent any scarring and the sensation of skin burning. He washed his hands, subconsciously doing it the same way that the Kaminoans engraved into him. Then, he started to liberally apply the bacta on the entry and exit wound. Tano sat in silence until he finished.

He was finding a suitable bandage in his kit when he heard her sigh heavily, “Why does it hurt so much, Bacara?”

He knew that she wasn’t talking about the blaster wound. Forgetting about the bandage for a moment, he rested his hands on her knees, “You know that it wasn’t your fault.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?” He heard her sniff and despite his prayers to the Force, fat teardrops began to fall down her cheeks. No, no, no!

Crying teenagers were not covered in his training. Neither was dealing with upset Jedi who could easily throw him into a wall with the wave of a hand.

However, Bacara was a Commander and knew how to deal with panicked and upset shinies. With a low, stern tone and concerned eyes- which he didn’t need to fake right now- he should be able to manage.

“Gerrera knew the risks.” He said, refraining from resting a hand on her shoulder like he would do with his own men, “She knew that Jedi are not infallible, and they can’t save everyone.”

“I… I was jealous of her.” Tears started to flood down her cheeks. Of course, Bonteri had something to do with this, and if that boy had caused Tano to get upset again, then Bacara needed to have words with him. Big words. Or maybe he could just get his fist to talk some sense into him.

“But you tried to save her nonetheless.” He said, using his knuckle to wipe the tears off her cheeks. “For what it’s worth, Commander, I think Bonteri’s out of your league.”

She laughed, half-heartedly, but it was enough. Bacara went back to bandaging her blaster wound, being more careful than he had ever been when treating his own men.

“I should speak to Lux.” She said, grimacing when Bacara accidentally pulled too tightly. “He’s hurting.”

“Don’t let one mistake lead to another, sir.” He tied off the bandage across her other shoulder to make sure it would stay in place.

“Ahsoka.” She corrected, “I think that we can afford to be on a first name basis now.”

“I call you ‘sir’ because I respect you.” Unlike Bonteri. At the start of the mission, Bacara didn’t think much of Tano, but she had proved herself over the course of a couple days.

“What does that mean? Don’t led one mistake lead to another.” The meds had started to kick in as Tano became more alert and communicative. Small victory.

“You dropped Steela.” She violently flinched at how raw he sounded, “Not your fault; accidents happen. Now, you want to go and try to fix… something,” He gestured with his hands, unsure of what to call it, “With Bonteri. You can’t fall into a spiral; you just need to take a breather and wait until things settle.”

Her shoulders slumped, even her bad one. “Look, Ahsoka.” Her red-rimmed eyes lifted to his, “Focus on one thing at a time. Nobody is expecting you to do anything right now, so just relax and let me handle it.”

She perked up a little at his reassurance, “Firstly, General Skywalker wants to you to call him.” A small smile slipped onto her face at the mention of her Master, “So, I’m going to step outside and time an hour on my wrist chrono. You will call the General, and when you’re done, you’ll do whatever Jedi do to chill out.”

If she was a shiny, he would leave her in a gym to punch it out, but he’d never seen Mundi working out his emotions with his fists, so he assumed Jedi had their own methods.

“You mean meditating?” She asked. Thankfully, she was still smiling, so she wasn’t offended.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Collecting his medkit and putting it back onto his belt, Bacara prepared to leave. “After an hour’s up, then you can speak to Bonteri. When I know you won’t say something you’ll regret and cry about later.” She shot him an offended look, “If your Master finds out that you were crying, I will not live to see my vod.”

“You’re overdramatic.” She rolled her eyes, “He knows that you’ve been looking out for me.”

Bacara stiffened, his hand on the door handle, “How?”

She looked down at the comm in her fingertips, “I told him, so he would get off my back about Lux.”

He didn’t realise that he had been ‘looking out for’ her; he’d just been doing his job and keeping her alive. He nodded at her, “One hour. I’ll be outside.”

“Thank you, Bacara.” He heard just as he closed the door behind him.

You’re welcome, Ahsoka.

Chapter Text

“Commander Bly!” Aayla called out as soon as she left the pod where Skywalker was resting.

The clone jumped to his feet, making his General start, “Yes, Aayla?”

She tossed him a playful smile, “I’d like you to take Ahsoka on a walk.” He was so distracted by her accent that he barely registered what she said, “Try to get her mind off her Master.”

Counselling younglings about attachment wasn’t Bly’s job, but he couldn’t say no to Aayla, “Of course, ma’am.”

She touched his forearm before he turned away, “Be mindful of the creatures out there, Bly.” Her expression softened, “We’ve lost too many clones since we arrived on this planet, and I can’t bear to lose you as well.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He told her, wishing his helmet was on to hide his flushed cheeks,

Her hand brushed against his shoulder, barely lingering for a second, before she re-entered the healer’s pod again. Bly sighed, heading off to find the Padawan who had been nothing but panicked since they crashed.

He understood that Ahsoka was worried about Skywalker- as his injuries were extensive- but Commanders were meant to meet much higher standards of what was expected of them if their General was out of action.

“Kid!” He walked to where she was sat cross-legged on the perimeter of the village… meditating? “Oi, kid!”

“Oi, Bly.” She retorted dryly, opening her eyes and looking up at him. Her expression shifted from irritated to concerned in a heartbeat, “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Anakin?”

“The General’s fine.” He said with a sigh. Was she like this every time Skywalker was injured? “General Secura has ordered that we should go for a walk. Come along.”

He started to walk away, hearing her boots patter across the ground to catch up with him, “I’m not a dog, Bly.” When he didn’t reply, she carried on, “Why do we need to go for a walk?”

“To quote ‘get your mind off your Master’.” He said, attempting to do Aayla’s accent which, according to his Sergeants in the 327th, he was rather good at impersonating.

Seriously though, none of his men had ever needed to take him on a walk when Aayla got injured. Although, he rarely left her side when she was hurt, but that was different.

They lapsed into silence as he tried to figure out a short route that wouldn’t take them too far from the village in case those creatures showed up again. He’d seen the wounds of Rex’s arm, and he thought the two clones shared enough features as it was.

“Can we do something fun on our walk?” They exited the village and started on the track that they had arrived on.

“Do you see anything fun that we can do?” Bly gestured to the rolling grass plains and trees that stretched for miles and miles. Why couldn’t they have crash landed somewhere exciting like Zeltros?

“Fine!” She huffed, crossing her arms and storming ahead. Bly rolled his eyes at her immaturity. How Rex trusted her with his life, he would never know.

He followed her for about twenty minutes to see how long she would be able to hold a grudge. Ahsoka didn’t seem to be thinking about her Master anymore, so mission accomplished.

Maybe he could report her as mentally unfit for duty, and the Jedi could keep her at the Temple until she shows signs of maturing. Sure, she had stopped them from crashing into a star, but their landing on the planet was anything but controlled and she’d hardly been thinking with her head since the crash.

“Bly.” She halted after twenty-eight minutes of silence. “Do you know where we are?”

Kriff.

Bly looked around, trying to spot something familiar. How far had they managed to get in half an hour? Ahsoka turned to face him, a sly smile on her face, “Have you gotten us lost, Commander?”

“You were leading the pack.” He muttered, closing the distance between them, “And we’re not lost. We just have to follow the path back to the village.”

“Alright. Lead the way.” Ahsoka squared her shoulders. “But I’ll warn you, there’s one of those creature-things about 300 metres that way.” She pointed along the path they had just taken.

Bly scoffed, “How would you know that?”

“I’m a Togruta; I can smell it.” She said as if it were obvious. “I can also smell your fear, so I bet the creature can as well.”

“I’m not scared.” He hissed, pulling his blaster a little closer to his chest when he heard the distinguishable growls in the distance.

“I’m joking!” She exclaimed, looking far too relaxed considering the growls were getting louder, “I can’t smell fear, that’s a myth about Togrutas.”

Bly ignored her, “We’re too exposed.”

“You’re right.” Ahsoka clutched his arm and dragged him into the grass where they immediately fell into a ditch, “Is this better?” Bly was really starting to hate her attitude.

“So, now we just wait for the thing to find us and tear us apart limb from limb.” Out of all the ways to die, being mauled by an animal would be the least honourable way for a Commander to go. “I don’t know about you, kid, but I’m going to find a way back to that village- with or without you.”

Ahsoka tightened her grip on his bicep when he tried to climb out of the ditch, “I know I could outrun that creature, Bly, but you’re insane to believe that you could.”

It was kriffing annoying because she was right. Bly felt his panic heighten as the growling became louder, “Can’t you just use your lightsaber to kill it? It would take- what? Two seconds?”

“I left it at the village.”

Bly blinked, “You left your lightsaber at the village?” She nodded sheepishly. Not only was she immature, but she was also irresponsible. “I’ll contact Aayla-”

“Don’t!” She slapped the wrist that he rose to activate his comm, “The high-pitched frequency will only aggravate the creatures. Besides, don’t you mean General Secura?”

“Fine!” Now he was getting aggravated, “I’ll just shoot it then.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Bly was shocked- she was just like Skywalker, “Are you serious? Where’s the fun in letting it rip us apart and eat us for its dinner?”

“We’ll hunt it.” He definitely needed to report her to the Council. Ahsoka pointed to her headdress, “These are Akul teeth. On Shili, every adolescent hunts an Akul to progress to adulthood. And I can promise you, Bly, an Akul is much larger and deadlier than these creatures.”

“I thought Tag Woo said not to kill those things.”

“His name is Wag Too.” She corrected sternly, “I thought names were a big part of clone culture.”

“They are.” He hissed back.

“Then please understand that hunting is a big part of Togruta culture.” Her tone was smooth and hard; she had trapped him in a corner.

Bly considered his options. Togrutas were predatory, so taking out an animal wasn’t a completely wild concept; Ahsoka should be able to manage it. If they were both killed, at least he wouldn’t be alive to feel Skywalker’s wrath.

“What do we need to do?” He asked.

“This is going to be so much fun! You’ll love the thrill of the chase!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands, “It’ll be easy; all you need to do it play bait and I’ll do the hard work.”

“Okay.” Bly sighed; he could do this- “Wait! Play bait?”

Bly had been afraid before. He remembered shooting down his first real droid on Geonosis and feeling like the breath had been taken out of his lungs when the shot deflected and took out one of his batchmates, killing them instantly. His ARC training involved interrogation tactics, and he still had nightmares of Commander Colt screaming into a tin box that surrounded his head. Then, there was a time recently when Aayla got injured and Bly had to defend her from an entire platoon of SBDs.

He had been scared before, but his legs had never shook like they were when he stood on the path, waiting for the creature to get close enough for Ahsoka to attack.

He wished he brought his helmet so his lip couldn’t tremble so kriffing much. Ahsoka hadn’t let him take his blaster, leaving his hands awkwardly clenching by his sides. So far, he wasn’t feeling much of a thrill from the chase. In fact, he was starting to feel like he needed to relieve himself and he started to understand why so many of his men went for ‘nervous wees’ before battle.

He glanced to the grass where Ahsoka was hidden, he couldn’t even see the stubs of her montrals. If she had abandoned him, he would have a lot to say to Yoda- if he survived.

An orange hand stuck out through the grass, giving him a thumbs up. That was his signal to initiate the attack. Bly took a deep breath and imagined it was Aayla asking him to do this and not Ahsoka.

“Uh, come here, boy!” He shouted as if cooing a pet, “Uh, come and get me, big fella!” If he could see Ahsoka, he bet she would be face palming. “Come on, I won’t bite!”

Just over the mound of the hill, he saw the creature appear on the path. Kriff. Bly really needed to use a fresher. “Good work!” Ahsoka said from the edge of the path, “Keep it up!”

“Easier said when you’re not the one that the creature wants to eat.” He muttered.

“Bly.” She said, trying to be stern but it came out like a whine.

He sighed and moved onto stage two, jumping up and down whilst waving his arms in the air. He looked like an idiot, but it was only Ahsoka and this creature watching him- not Aayla or any of his men. “Come and get me! Come on, you ugly beast!”

The creature responded, kicking the ground to tear up dust as it started to charge. Bly stopped jumping- what the kriff did he get himself into? He wanted to turn and run, but it was already too late to try and escape.

“Steady, steady.” Ahsoka said from the grass, not revealing herself yet. “Easy, just a bit further.”

The beast was so close that Bly could see droplets of saliva flying out of its mouth and it was snapping its beak together viciously. Oh kriff. This was it.

Just when he expected to hear the creature’s beak snap around his neck and finish him, Ahsoka leapt for the beast and took it out with a strong kick to its side.

The Jedi and animal tumbled into the vegetation, leaving Bly on the path. He allowed himself to breathe and felt something familiar coursing through his veins: adrenaline. That must be the thrill of the chase, or whatever Ahsoka called it.

He watched the grass sway with the movement of Ahsoka and the animal, but the only sound was a snapping beak and little umphs that came from the Padawan. He quickly retrieved his blaster and took safety off but didn’t fire.

Then, silence descended, and Bly felt himself freeze. Ahsoka said she would call out when she killed it, but neither her nor the creature made a sound. If he returned to the village without her, Aayla would never speak to him again and Skywalker wouldn’t even give him the chance to explain, injured or not.

“Bly!” Thank the Force! “Could you come and give me a hand, please!”

“I’m coming!” He said, rushing into the grass and then being careful because there could be more creatures lurking around.

“Where are you, kid?” He called out when he came to the end of the flattened grass where they had been wrestling.

“Right here.” She replied from… beneath him? “To your left.”

He pushed the grass aside and sighed in relief when he saw her face poking out from beneath the slain creature. There was blood covering her mouth, making her smile seem sinister along with her gleaming eyes. The creature’s eyes were still open, and a long tongue flopped out of its open beak, nearly touching the large gash in its neck.

“Nice job.” Bly said with a laugh, starting to push the beast off the little Togruta.

“Thanks.” She coughed when he finally rolled the creature of her. He offered her a hand up, “Did you enjoy the hunt?”

“I enjoy shooting clankers more.” He said, stabilising her until she found her feet. They both looked at the creature, “I can see what you mean, about the thrill of the chase.”

“See? You don’t get that from taking down B1s.” She said, using her bracers to wipe the animal’s blood off her face. Bly took a wipe out of his belt and passed it to her. She gave him a grateful smile,

“You start having fun when you leave your comfort zone.”

“Do we just leave it here for other animals to eat?” He asked.

“We could.” There was still a line of blood beneath her jaw. “Or we take it back to the Lurmens as a thank you?”

“You expect me to carry that thing back to the village?” Bly rubbed his forehead; they were still technically lost.

“Teamwork makes the dream work, Commander.” Ahsoka lifted the animal’s front legs and started to pull. Despite Bly’s struggle to roll it off the Padawan, she seemed to move it easily across the ground, “Come on!”

“Wait!” Bly caught her jaw and tilted it upwards, using a second wipe to get rid of the rest of the animal’s blood, “Aay- General Secura will freak out if you come back covered in blood.”

He used the time to check her for any injuries, but she was clear of any mark. Perhaps she was a better hunter than he thought. “All done.”

“Good because it’s getting dark.” Bly hadn’t realised how long they had been away. The sun was low in the sky, and those creatures attacked their crash site at night. He was less afraid of dealing with them now, but he doubted if Ahsoka was up to killing a second, and he certainly couldn’t manage it alone.

It was nightfall by the time they brought the creature back to the village, but the long trek was worth it. The Lurmens were grateful for the offering and immediately planned a feast with the creature as the main course.

They were told that the beasts were called mastiff phalones, and their meat was rich and full of nutrients. Rex and Bly couldn’t but drool and they watched it being turned over a large fire, fat glazing across the muscle and flesh. It tasted even better than it looked, and Bly was shoving it into his mouth faster than he could chew.

“I didn’t expect you two to go on such a long and eventful walk.” Aayla said from beside him, daintily eating her portion with Jedi grace, “I was starting to get worried.”

Her eyes shimmered perfectly in the firelight and Bly made sure to swallow before replying, “We decided to have some fun.” And looking back on it, taking down the mastiff phalone had been fun.

“Oh, I can tell.” She leaned closer, “You’re grinning, Bly.” That explained why his face was hurting so much. “You got her mind off Skywalker, so thank you.”

He didn’t try to stop smiling, “You’re welcome, Aayla.”

“Bly!” There was the devil incarnate.

Ahsoka ran around the fire and pushed to sit between the Twi’lek and clone. Aayla gave him a small smile before turning her attention to the younger girl, “What have you got there, Ahsoka?”

“The mastiff phalone’s beak!” She exclaimed, showing them. Somehow, she had separated the beak into two parts, and they had even been polished, “It’s a present for Bly.”

“For me?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Shoulders guards.” She told him, demonstrating on herself, “Like my Akul teeth headdress. It’s a token of good hunting.”

The smile faltered on his face. She had been the one to take down the creature whilst he acted as bait, yet she was offering the prize of the kill to him.

“What’s wrong?” The light of the fire illuminated the concern etched onto Ahsoka’s face, “Do you not like them?”

Aayla narrowed her glare at him and Bly cleared his throat, “It’s very kind of you, Commander, but I fear how durable the beak will be in battle.”

“But they would look nice in your quarters.” Aayla said, her voice like ice, “Right, Bly?”

Ahsoka’s eyes were too hopeful to refuse. “Of course, General.” He took the beak shoulder guards and marvelled at their weight, running a finger along the sharp edge. “Thank you, Commander Tano.”

Maybe he would reconsider talking to the Jedi Council about grounding Ahsoka to the Temple.

Chapter Text

“Hold it, Ventress!” Anakin yelled, coming to a halt in front of the reactor room that the Sith was about to enter, “You destroy the reactor and this base will go down with it! We’ll all die!”

Ahsoka stopped to the left of her Master, lightsaber poised and ready for his signal. Wolffe raised his blasters on Anakin’s right, aiming for Ventress who smiled sadistically, “I’ve never had the pleasure of killing a clone before. Let alone a Commander.”

“You’re a liar!” Ahsoka shouted, feeling anger boil in her veins when Wolffe stiffened, “You murdered our men on Teth!”

“I beg to differ; that wasn’t my doing.” Ventress backed into the reactor room, “If you’ll excuse me, Republic dogs, I have a base to destroy.”

Ahsoka felt a Force-push lift her up and throw her down the corridor. She braced to be slammed into a durasteel wall, but only felt the smack of plastoid instead. Wolffe groaned, “Get off me, kid!”

She scrambled to her feet. Anakin had defended himself from the Force-push and was racing after Ventress. She needed to learn how to do that. Ahsoka offered Wolffe a hand up but he knocked her away, swaying slightly as he stood, “I guess your helmet didn’t manage to protect your head.”

“I was trying to cushion your fall, you ungrateful-” He cut himself off, obviously deciding that he shouldn’t swear in front of her. She wasn’t sure why; Rex had occasionally been teaching her the Mando’a curses whilst Anakin didn’t even try to be discreet with the Huttese ones.

Trying was a funny way to put what he had done. Ahsoka could already feel the bruises forming on her arms, “Come on! We need to stop Ventress from blowing up this base!”

“Right behind you!” She called, sprinting behind him, slightly annoyed that he hadn't waited for her.

They made it to the reactor room and she saw Anakin duelling Ventress on the upper level. Ahsoka still got a little starstruck when she watched Anakin using his lightsaber- especially since Ventress had two blades- but she needed to focus on the reactor core that was malfunctioning and covered in lightsaber slashes.

“Wolffe, stabilise the reactor! I’ll help Skyguy!” Her Master had taught her a lot about electronics in the several months that she had been his Apprentice, but she stood more of a chance than Wolffe at taking down Ventress.

She leapt to the upper desk on Ventress’ undefended side, igniting her lightsaber and charging forwards. The Sith turned quickly, blocking her, and snarling in her face. She and Anakin hadn’t practised attacking an opponent from both sides yet, so this was new for the Padawan.

Then, Ventress lifted two fingers off the lightsaber hilt and sent a tsunami of the Force her way. She really needed to ask Anakin how to do that. Ahsoka lost her balance and fell, hanging onto the edge of the platform with just her fingertips. She tried to stop her legs from swinging before evaluating the situation.

Anakin was at the other end of the platform in a similar predicament, and Ventress had jumped towards the core reactor. Right at Wolffe. The clone didn’t stand a chance against her swinging lightsabers, and when Ahsoka saw that Anakin’s mechanical hand was sparking, she knew it was up to her to save Master Plo’s Commander.

Ahsoka stuck out a hand, lassoing the Force around Ventress’ lightsabers to pull them away from Wolffe’s head. It worked- he wasn’t decapacitated, but a bloodcurdling scream told her that somehow- somewhere- he had been hit.

She jumped down to the main platform, landing in front of Wolffe who was curled on the floor, cradling his helmet and whimpering. She’d never heard a clone whimper before. She could feel his pain through the Force as if she had felt the strike herself, and soon the stench of burning flesh and plastoid filled the air, making her gag.

Apparently, Ventress wasn’t interested in fighting anymore as she jumped over Ahsoka and sprinted from the room. Wolffe had managed to stabilise the reactor, so it didn’t make sense for her to leave unless-

“Master, there’s a bomb!” She shouted, crouching next to Wolffe and shaking his shoulder. He groaned weakly, “Wolffe’s alive!”

“Get him back on the ship!” Anakin ordered, landing several metres away from her on the main platform, “I’ll find the bomb.”

Ahsoka tried to hide her anxiety that Anakin would be all alone whilst trying to deactivate the bomb- that they didn’t even have a location for- but she would need time to get Wolffe back on the ship. His legs seemed fine, and even his torso and back were unsinged, but she just pulled away his arms and saw the injury that had sent him down.

“Good Force.” She whispered, touching the melted plastoid of his helmet and then wiping it onto her skirt as it burned, “Wolffe, are you okay?”

“Do I look kriffing okay?” There was a black line through the right-hand side of his helmet, completely going through the visor which meant his HUD was probably short circuiting as well. He was disorientated and in unbelievable agony- why did she ask if he was okay?

“You need to stand up.” She pulled on his arm because it would be impossible to lift him. Wolffe groaned, not moving, “Wolffe, come on! I need to get you back to the ship!”

“Hurts…” He whined. With one hand, he tugged on the bottom of his helmet, only aggravating the pain, “Get my bucket off!”

“The bomb’s deactivated.” She heard Anakin through her comm. When had he left the reactor room? “I’ve gone after Ventress, so prepare the ship for take-off and I’ll meet you there.”

“Yes, Master.” She muttered, stilling Wolffe’s hand as he tried to remove his helmet that was wielded to his head for all she knew.

“I’ll take it off when we get on the ship.” Sweeping Wolff’s arms around her neck, she called on the Force to give her strength to stand up, “Work with me, Wolffe!”

Somehow, he managed to find his feet, but his knees kept on buckling whenever he put weight through them. She would have to work with him leaning against her back with both arms weakly wrapping around her neck.

“Please keep your arms and legs inside the carriage at all times.” She tried to joke but got a low groan in response. There would be plenty of time for humour on the Resolute’s medbay, but not right now. She shuffled out of the reactor room, trying to remember the way back to the ship.

It didn’t help that Wolffe weighed a tonne and his armour was awkwardly stabbing into her back. Seriously, who thought that making the armour pointy was a good idea? The one time Ahsoka had fallen asleep on Rex, she had woken up with pauldron imprints on her cheek. Now, she was going to have a chest plate across her shoulder blades.

“Not much further, Wolffe.” She told him, ignoring how molten plastoid was irritating the backs of her montrals. Kix or Coric- or even worse, Anakin- would have to pick it off afterwards. They were nearing the landing platform where the Twilight was, “We’ll be back on a cruiser before you know it.”

“Feel sick.” He murmured.

Ahsoka scrunched up her nose, “Please, don’t be sick down my back.”

They made it onto the landing platform and Ahsoka had a startling realisation, “Where’s the Twilight?”

Either Anakin had forgotten about them and left already- which wouldn’t be the first time- or their ship had been stolen. Ahsoka started to panic when Wolffe murmured something, “Wrong platform, you di’kut.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened, “You’re right.” She half-ran, half-stumbled to the edge of the platform to see the Twilightparked on the one below, “Hang on, Wolffe.”

“What… Arghhhh!” Wolffe screamed out as Ahsoka leapt off the platform, hoping the Force would take into account the added weight and land them safely right beside the ship. She had to time it right, and Wolffe choking her as he hung on for dear life wasn’t helping.

They landed a little roughly- Ahsoka knew this when shooting pain went up her ankle- but Wolffe was still attached to her, and they were now next to the Twilight, so it was a success as far as she was concerned.

If the landing was rough, Ahsoka wasn’t even sure what to think when Anakin finally made the jump to hyperspace and it fell to her to remove Wolffe’s helmet. She was thankful that her Master hadn’t arrived too far after them as he knew where the medkit was stored. Still, there wasn’t a lot in there to deal with facial and head wounds caused by lightsabers. He had simply pushed a painkiller hypo into her hand and then vanished into the cockpit, hopefully calling the cruiser to have a stretcher ready when they arrived.

“Can you see?” She asked.

“Nothing through my right eye, but my HUD is kriffed anyways.” Unfortunately, she didn’t think it was his helmet’s problem that he couldn’t see. She reached out into the Force and retreated when she felt how much pain he was harbouring.

“It’ll be alright, Wolffe.” She crouched in front of him, resting her hands on his knees. “I’m going to take your helmet off, okay?”

“I’m suffocating in here, so yes!” He snapped.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” She placed her hand on the sides of his helmet, “I’ve never done this before, so it may be uncomfortable.” She had seen her own men put their helmets on and off repeatedly, but there was a knack to it so the buckets didn’t roll off whenever they went upside down. Also, their helmets didn’t usually have a huge crack in them.

“Just do it quickly, like taking off a bacta patch.” His hands found her ribs, just below her bandeau. His grip was tight as he braced himself, “I’ll try to not fight you.”

“Okay.” She said again, taking a deep breath. Getting tackled by a clone would make this a hundred times more difficult. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He said to do it fast, and Ahsoka didn’t want to draw out his pain any further, so in one sharp motion, she jerked upwards. It reminded her off the transport from Christophsis to Teth when Anakin got so sick of listening to her complain about a plaster over a blister on her heel that he ripped it off. She had screamed loudly then, but not quite as loudly as Wolffe did when his helmet came off.

He pushed her backwards, his helmet still in her hands and her montrals ringing with the sound. She blinked spots out of her eyes, trying to get the noise out of her head but she was certain it would stay there for several weeks at least.

“Ahsoka? What’s going on?” Anakin shouted from the cockpit.

“Uh, just some first aid!” She replied, lifting the helmet above her face to see how bad the damage was. It was all but falling apart in her hands; Wolffe possibly needed a new helmet.

Wolffe!

She scampered back into a crouched position in front of the clone who had his head burrowed in his hands and his shoulders were shaking. Was he… crying? No, clones never cried. He was just pulling himself together and the adrenaline was wearing off, hence the trembling.

“Wolffe.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, “Let me have a look.” He started to lift his head.

She had never seen a lightsaber wound before, only the aftermath scars, but she roughly knew what to expect. Generally, the Jedi Masters taught them that as long as the wound wasn’t bleeding, they should be fine. Fine wasn’t the word she would’ve used to describe Wolffe’s face.

The entire right-hand side of his face was inflamed, blistered and charred. It was a gruesome sight, like something on the HoloNet that Ahsoka would watch when Anakin wasn’t spending the night at the Temple. Except it wasn’t fake; it was very much real.

“H-How bad?” He asked, his left eye narrowed on her, “Because it feels pretty bad.”

The cut of the lightsaber went straight through his eye and cheekbone, indenting a line down his face. She doubted if his eye could be recovered at all. And the scarring… even bacta wouldn’t help.

“Let’s just say you have a good excuse to scar Ventress the next time you run into her.” She said, wincing. Beneath her, she felt the Twilight landing the hanger, “You certainly look tough, Wolffe.”

“Coric is waiting for…” Anakin trailed off as he walked out of the cockpit. “Oh, Wolffe, ouch!”

The clone turned his head away from the Jedi, so Ahsoka leaned down to catch his good eye, “Master Skywalker’s just jealous that his scar isn’t as cool as yours.”

He did something unexpected. Wolffe started to laugh, starting as a chuckle- that she was pretty sure he only did to humour her- and then becoming a genuine belly laugh. Ahsoka started to giggle as well, and Anakin could only his hold composure for so long before he began laughing too.

Ahsoka knew the image of Wolffe’s shredded face contorting as he laughed would give her nightmares, but in the moment, she didn’t care. They stayed that way for a while, finding humour in the fact that they survived an encounter with a Sith. Sure, Wolffe got hurt, but it was nothing serious if he could laugh about it. He would be back in the field with his usual grumpy and cold personality before Ahsoka knew it.

Chapter Text

The walls of the Resolute felt haunted. That was the only way Ahsoka could describe it. She ran her fingers along the cool metal and felt an absence of the life that used to fill the corridors. The men who had survived Umbara were hidden away in the barracks, and Anakin had forbidden her from invading their privacy, even though she just wanted to help.

She didn’t blame the clones for feeling like their trust in the Jedi had been broken- shattered- but she was hurt that they didn’t trust her.

Fives and Rex had tried to reassure her after the intense debrief. ‘Give the men time’, they said, ‘you’re not the one we’re upset with, Commander.’ She had forced a smile for the Captain and ARC trooper, telling them it was okay, and- more importantly- that she understood. She promised to give them space, even if it made her heart ache to hear them crying through the Force at night.

That was three days ago, and the men still wouldn’t get too close to Ahsoka or Anakin. They still saluted them- sadly out of fear instead of respect- but they were stiff, rigid and lacking the banter that they used to have. Ahsoka wished she had been on Umbara and saved them from Krell. Even if she lost a limb or her life, she would’ve turned back time in a heartbeat to defend her men from that traitor.

She found herself stood in the entrance of the mess hall, looking across the empty tables- which wasn’t unusual at 0300. Well, it was nearly empty. Her sharp eyes spotted Appo sat in the back corner, turned away from her as he looked between two datapads, occasionally sipping caf from a mug.

Ahsoka started to turn to leave when he spoke, “Took your time, Rex.” His voice was rough, sleep deprived.

She knew the Captain hadn’t been sleeping well since the 501st returned to the Resolute, but she didn’t know that the insomnia had infected all of her men. Ahsoka pursed her lips, “I’m sorry, Appo; I’m not Rex.”

He jumped, his shoulders going tense as he half-turned to face her, “C-Commander Tano.” Appo never stuttered. “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same question.” She said, not risking getting too close so she raised her voice, “Meeting the Captain at 0300, Sergeant?” He nodded, his expression emotionless. She was making him uncomfortable, “Thank you for being there for Rex, Appo.”

“Someone has to be.” He said, staring.

Ahsoka flinched. Rex had hardly spoken to her since Umbara, and when they did converse, it was strictly professional. She knew he was struggling more than the rest of the men, but her presence only made him distressed- or that’s what his Force-signature told her.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” She said, backing away. “If you like.” Part of her hoped that he would ask her to stay.

He turned away from her, “Do what you please. You’re a Jedi, after all.”

Heartbroken. Did they really believe she no longer cared about their feelings or opinions? As she left the mess hall, she remembered telling Rex that she outranked him on Christophsis because she was a Jedi. Was she still that naïve Padawan?

Anakin and herself had always prided themselves for listening to their men and treating them as friends- not flesh-droids. They weren’t just biologically engineered soldiers to her, they were friends, family. As of late, they felt more like family to Ahsoka than the Jedi did.

She kept herself even further from the men until they were deployed to some backwater planet ridden with tinnies. She didn’t understand why the Republic wanted planets like these- like Umbara- but at least the fighting was a good distraction from the tension on the Resolute.

Her and Appo’s squadrons were supposed to meet before hiking three klicks to meet Anakin and the rest of the Company. When she saw the Sergeant approaching the rendezvous alone, and she sensed his turmoil through the Force, she gravitated towards him, concerned. “What happened, Appo?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He bit back, “We were ambushed, and you didn’t come to reinforce us.”

“The Separatists have been jamming our signals.” She said, trying to contain her frustration over his accusation that she didn’t save his men, “We better get moving.”

“I’ll lead.” He said without any room for discussion, “You bring up the rear.”

“Yes, sir.” She turned to get at the back of the group, feeling him blinking at her back. She thought that calling him ‘sir’ would show some submission to him; was he not expecting that?

When they used to hike on missions, Ahsoka could always count on the clones to entertain her with stories and jokes, but not this time. The entire group walked in silence, or at least it was silent for her. Every clone had their helmet on, and their visors were occasionally turning to look at each other. She tried to not feel offended that they were talking without her- possibly about her- but she felt like she was back on Christophsis, trying desperately to not look like an outcast.

The Force sent her a warning, sending heat soaring down her neck and telling her- them- to stop. She recognised the sensation, “Land mines! Nobody move!”

The clones froze as soon as she gave the order- which surprised her slightly, but she was grateful. She made her way to the front of the group and stood beside Appo.

“What now?” He asked, visor tilted downwards as if he was ashamed for not knowing what to do.

On Umbara, Krell had sent the 501st on a death march through land mines which killed Oz and Ride. Fives had used his specialist ARC gear to sense the mines, but Ahsoka had something more reliable than equipment.

“I can use the Force to find a clear path.” She said before raising her voice, “Form a single file line behind me and watch where you step, men.”

Extending her senses, Ahsoka was about to take a step when Appo roughly grabbed her bicep. His voice was low, “The last Jedi who claimed to know things through the Force got most of us killed.”

“Krell was no Jedi.” She told him sternly, “And you should know from years of serving alongside me that I would willingly take a shot for any man in this Company, even if it killed me.” She dared him to challenge that, “If I didn’t care about you, why would I tell you that there were land mines in the first place?”

He released her bicep and pointed a finger towards her chest, “Any deaths will be on your hands, Commander Tano.”

Fury burned like fire in her lungs, making every breath difficult. “Of course, Sergeant.” She had to force a smile, “Would you like to flank me or bring up the rear?”

Appo didn’t answer, he just turned and walked to the back of the group. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by the rift between them when she was about to walk eight men through a trial littered with land mines. One miscalculated step could easily kill any number of them, and she knew it would be her fault before Appo told her.

“Follow me!” She called out, thrusting confidence into her voice as she extended the Force to the ground beneath her, hoping that it wouldn’t make the soil tremble.

With her eyes closed, Ahsoka could see the pulses of energy that the mines produced, and from there she mapped out a path. Falling into light meditation, she allowed her feet to guide her along, taking the necessary turns without her really realising it, putting all her faith into the Force.

It had been hard to focus on the Force after her men returned from Umbara. The clones, as well as every piece of equipment sent planet-side, was tainted with Krell’s darkness and felt cold. Anakin had supported her shields in the immediate aftermath, but he couldn’t keep it up for too long. Besides, she could feel the Darkside swirling within her every time she saw the hollowed eyes of her men.

Under Anakin’s suggestion, she had turned the Force off for a while, allowing it to float through her instead of interacting with it. Now, she was putting the lives in eight men and herself into the hands of the Force; she needed to trust it.

As she walked them through the mines, she tried to pinpoint Appo’s emotions. His anger towards her was obvious, even after she had told him how much she cared for the men. One of the Jedi teachings replayed in her head: Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.

Appo may have been afraid of Krell, but he had no reason to be afraid of Ahsoka. That meant he feared something else. Something that Krell and Ahsoka both had. She furrowed her brow in thought before realising that the ground was no longer littered with mines.

“We’re clear!” She called out, opening her eyes and waiting for the rest of the men to meet her. She was surprised to see a lot of helmets tilting towards her as they passed. They were thanking her.

Appo was the final man and he turned to look at the path they just crossed, “We didn’t set off any mines. How do you know there were any to begin with?” More accusations.

“The Force.” She told him, telekinetically lifting a rock into her hand, and then tossing it several metres down the trail. She shielded her eyes from the explosion that followed, noticing that Appo lifted her arm in front of her face for protection.

Finally, everything became clear. “You should not fear the Force, Sergeant Appo. The only thing to fear is the people who abuse the Force for their own self-interest.”

She heard Appo take a deep breath, “People like Krell.”

Ahsoka nodded, “Yes.”

He paused for several seconds, long enough for the rest of the men to get a head start along the trail, before saying, “Thank you, for getting us through those mines.”

A smile plastered over her face, “My pleasure.”

Later, when they were back on the Resolute, there was a new hum of life as she entered the mess. Gone were the cautious glares that she had become used to receiving. Now, as she walked to the table where Rex and Fives were sat beside Anakin, she caught snippets of the conversations around her.

“Commander Tano led them through land mines- using the Force!”

“She led them, at the front!”

“…She said to Appo that she would take a blaster bolt for any of us.”

“Ask Appo; he was there.”

Ahsoka caught the Sergeant’s eyes as she sat down opposite Fives. She smiled widely at him, and Appo replied with a tight nod.

“You did good, Commander.” Fives said lowly across the table, “You showed those men what a real Jedi is like.”

“A real Jedi uses the Force to help others.” She replied, smiling back at him, “To help their friends.”

Chapter Text

Fox wasn’t sure why he agreed to escorting Skywalker’s Padawan around Coruscant, but he knew immediately that it was a big mistake. Everything seemed to fascinate the youngling and she had questions about every little thing, from the guttering system to the differing species in every food stall.

“How long have you been living on Coruscant again?” He found himself asking to distract himself from the residing ache in his ankle. He wasn’t wearing a cast anymore, but it still needed to be taped and couldn’t be fitted into his boot which meant he was in his civvies for this expedition.

“Since I was three.” She said, eyes wide as she took in the sights of CoCo Town. He figured a quick stop to Dex’s Diner might be worthwhile. “But the Jedi Masters rarely took us out of the Temple. They said that these types of places would pollute our minds.”

Fox winced when two Cerean’s overheard her and gave them a dirty look. He wrapped an arm around the little dynamo’s shoulders and hurried her along, “Yeah, I can tell that you’re sheltered.”

The chevrons on her lekku darkened, “I’m not sheltered!” A second later, she had her face pressed to a shop window, “Wow! That outfit is wizard!”

Fox yanked her away from the exotic dance costume shop and glanced around, hoping nobody saw that display.

“You can try it on, if you like.” A blue Twi’lek woman said from the door to the shop, on her cigarette break judging by the smoke swirling around her.

“No, thank you.” Fox said before Ahsoka could get a word in. He tugged her away, despite her protests.

“Did you see the outfit, Fox? It was so cool!” She whined.

“I saw it.” And he felt like he needed to wash his eyes with bleach, “It wasn’t the type of outfit that Jedi Padawans should be wearing, sport.”

“When I’m a Knight, then.” She said, puffing out her chest. Fox was barely listening to her as he took the necessary turns to get to Dex’s. “Where are we going?”

“To get some food.” He told her, “Afterwards, we’re going to visit a convenience store.”

Her nose scrunched up in response. He assumed the Jedi Masters probably looked down on convenience stores for being dirty and cheap- which he wouldn’t disagree with. “Why?”

“Errands.” He said, “And for a Coruscanti cultural experience, Miss I’ve-lived-here-since-I-was-three-but-I’ve-never-left-the-Temple-walls.”

She giggled at him, “Your impression of me is terrible! And for your information, the clan leaders would take us out of the Temple, but we would stay on the upper level.”

“The best places on Coruscant aren’t in the Senate District.” Dex’s Diner was just ahead of them, “Get ready, racer, to taste your first Shawda Club Sandwich.”

The bell above the door rang as he opened it, filling him with nostalgia. Fox inhaled the scent of deep-fried meat and freshly baked pies and nearly forgot about the Padawan beside him.

“It smells in here.” She said, cautiously scanning the diner’s interior.

“I know; it’s amazing.” Fox strode up to the bar and smiled at the Besalisk giant, “Dex, my man!”

“Foxer!” The restaurant owner leaned across the bar and gripped his hand, his large hand engulfing Fox’s, “It’s been too long.”

“Sure has.” He gestured to the girl beside him, “I brought a friend. This is Ahsoka Tano.”

Dex looked at Ahsoka, “A Jedi youngling!” The little dynamo’s expression turned guarded, “Are you the Padawan that Obi-Wan was hoping for?”

“I’m Master Skywalker’s Padawan, actually.” Her face softened, “How do you know Master Obi-Wan?”

“Ah, a chef never tells!” Dex laughed, low and loud.

“We haven’t just come for a chat, unfortunately.” Fox said, digging through his pockets for credits, “Two of your finest Shawda Club Sandwiches, if we may, my friend.”

“If I could, I would!” Dex looked saddened, “Last night, my delivery of bread was stolen! Haven’t served a single sandwich today.”

“Stolen?” The little dynamo asked, glancing up at Fox with worried eyes, “Can we help, Fox?”

“I’m babysitting you today, sport, and I’m not exactly in the best state to chase down criminals.” He said before looking up at Dex, “I can have some guys come round and investigate though.”

“That would be great!” Dex clapped him hard on the shoulder, “I tried to call the local authorities, but you know what they’re like.” He rolled his eyes, “I can’t say what they’re like in front of the Padawan.”

He looked at Ahsoka and winked, “So, I can’t give you a Club Sandwich, but we have loads of Sic-Six-layer cake.”

“Cake?” Her eyes lit up like a cadet getting their first blaster. She tugged on Fox’s arm, practically jumping up and down, “Please, please, Fox!”

He chuckled, shaking her off, “Sure, sport. I’ll buy two slices, Dex, to go.”

“On the house for you, my friend.” Dex smiled, leaving to get their order before Fox could protest.

“On the house?” Ahsoka repeated, her forehead creased in confusion.

“Free.” He explained, “When you become a regular of a joint like this, you get a lot of stuff ‘on the house’.”

“Oh.” He could see some disappointment in her eyes, “Maybe I’ll ask Master Skywalker to bring me here so we can become regulars as well.” She shook her head, “Not just to get free food, but Dex seems like a nice guy and-”

“Racer.” He said, cutting her off, “Look.” He pointed to the wall behind the bar that was littered with framed, paper pictures.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for-” She stopped when her eyes landed on the picture of Dex stood in front of the bar- right where they were- with his arms wrapped around Kenobi and Skywalker, long before the war began.

Skywalker was still a Padawan in the picture, he had a braid similar to Ahsoka’s- except made from hair- and he was beaming at the camera. Kenobi looked young as well and was laughing along with Dex.

“He’s never brought me here.” She sounded hurt.

“You’ve only been his Padawan for a few months.” He said, watching Dex careen through the doors from the kitchen, “Maybe you should suggest a trip down here.”

“Maybe.” She seemed hopeful, but still disheartened.

“Two slices of Sic-six-layer cake.” Dex put a brown paper bag on the table. He noticed Ahsoka was still looking at the picture of her Master and he raised his voice, “FLO, grab my camera!”

The waitress droid came rolling towards them, the ancient device already in her hands. Ahsoka looked shocked for a moment before she processed what was happening, “We’re going to take a picture?”

“Of course!” Dex laughed, coming around the counter. “Like Master, like Padawan.” Fox stepped back, trying to get out of the way when Dex caught him with one of his four arms, “Not so fast, Foxer! You’ll be the first clone to be on my wall of fame!”

“I couldn’t, Dex.” He protested, “You don’t want my ugly mug on your wall.”

“Come on, Fox!” Ahsoka said from somewhere beneath Dex’s two arms, “We can show everyone back at the…” She trailed off. “At the Temple!”

Fox rolled his eyes, “I guess one picture won’t hurt.”

Dex brought him against his side, not noticing how tight he was holding them due to his natural Besalisk strength. Fox tried to smile- not being used to pictures- whilst FLO counted down, “Three, two, one; smile y’all!”

There was a bright flash and Fox resisted the urge to hit the deck. Dex tightened his grip after the picture was taken, making both Commanders gasp for air before he finally released them.

“Thanks, FLO!” Dex whisked the camera out of her hands and sent her away. “You want to see this picture being printed, kid?”

Ahsoka beamed, looking at Fox for permission and he gave her an encouraging nod, “Sure, Dex.” She followed him behind the bar and into the office, “Wait up, Fox!”

“I won’t go anywhere.” He called back. Holding the brown bag with their sweet treats, Fox leaned his back on the bar to give his ankle a break. It hadn’t been bothering him too much, but he thought that was because Ahsoka had been distracting him.

Whilst he waited, Fox keyed his commlink to the Corrie Guard. It didn’t take long for Thorn to get back to him, “I hope you’re keeping him occupied, Ahsoka.”

“Keeping me occupied from what, Thorn?” Fox asked coolly.

“Oh, it’s you, Fox.” His fellow Commander said nervously; did he not even check the frequency? “Just, you know, wanting you to not stress about anything whilst you’re still healing.” A brief pause, some panicked muttering in the background, “H-How is your ankle, sir?”

“It’s fine.” He forced through gritted teeth, becoming irritated. He understood that his brothers had been concerned about his injury since it required a trip to Kamino and he made quite a loud yelp when it happened, but he didn’t like being fussed over. “Look, Thorn, I need you to send a squadron to Dex’s; there’s a bread-knicker on the loose.”

“Bread-knicker?” There was a hint of amusement in Thorn’s tone.

“Yes.” Fox said, “And I know you like the Shawda Club Sandwich more than I do, and Dex has always been a good friend to us.”

“I’ll send a squad down tomorrow.”

“No- Thorn, today!” Fox sighed; why were all his men acting so incompetent since he got back? The line cut off and he groaned, someone was going to get an earful once he got back to the compound.

“All done!” The little dynamo appeared beside him, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sport.” He said with a sigh, turning around to look at the frame that Dex was putting up. “Well, would you look at that.”

For all the experience traumatised him, the picture came out as well as a picture of a clone could. Ahsoka was nearly completely covered by Dex’s arms, besides her face, but she was smiling, and her eyes were lit up red by the flash, so were Fox’s. They looked happy, and they were.

“Right by your Master.” Dex said, hanging the frame beside the picture of him, Skywalker and Kenobi.

“Thanks, Dex.” Fox nodded at Ahsoka, “We better get going. Come on, sport.”

The little dynamo said her goodbyes and Fox held the door open for her as they left, “You want to find somewhere to sit and eat the cake?”

“I’m not sure if I want cake right now.” She admitted sheepishly, “But you can have your slice, and we can sit if you need to take a break.” Her gaze dropped to his ankle.

“I can keep going.” He assured her, not wanting her to also fuss like his brothers were, “Let’s head to the convenience store and then call it a day, okay?”

“O-Okay.” She said, looking around CoCo Town from the outside of Dex’s diner, “I feel bad that you have to do all that walking. How about we get a taxi and go sightseeing?”

“That’s not how taxis work.” He told her, “Unless you want to get a huge fare.” Her brow furrowed, “You pay for distance and time in taxis.”

“I’ll put it on a tab.” She said with a shrug, “Master Skywalker does it all the time.”

“If you say so, racer.” He sighed, hailing a cab. The last thing he needed was for the GAR to reprimand him for earning a fine.

He thought she had been in a taxi before, but he had to stop her from getting in the front beside the driver. He pulled her into the back with him and called out, “Scenic route through the Federal District, to the Lower Markets District, please.”

“Federal District?” Ahsoka whipped her head around to look at him, “We can’t go there!”

“We’re only passing through because it’s a better sight than CoCo Town.” First it was Thorn, and now she was acting weird. Fox frowned at her, sceptical, “Why can’t we go to the Federal District?”

“Nothing, I just…” Ahsoka looked out of the taxi window as the upper level of Coruscant came into view, “Don’t want to run into anyone that I know.”

“Oh, sorry, celebrity.” He teased, lifting his ankle to rest on his opposite knee and then hissing. Ahsoka looked back at him, eyes concerned, “I’m fine, before you ask.”

“How did you do it?” A welcome change in conversation.

“Chasing a criminal in the Underworld.” He said, “Fell down a flight of stairs and fractured it in three places.”

The little dynamo bit her lip as she started to giggle, “Didn’t think you were the clumsy type, Fox.” He rolled his eyes, ignoring her, “A fractured ankle earned you a trip back to Kamino?”

“It needed to be op’ed on.” He said, looking at the Senate District that the speeder flew through, “They could’ve done the op here, on Corrie, but Commanders get special treatment.” He smirked at her.

“Corrie?” Her brow creased again. For someone who had been on the planet longer than Fox had been alive, she sure was naïve.

“Coruscant.”

“Oh.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence; Ahsoka watching the sights and Fox discreetly applying pressure to the inside of his ankle because it hurt more than he was willing to admit.

Their silence continued as they walked around the convenience store in the Lower Markets District. Fox had a mental checklist of things to get and Ahsoka seemed content to look curiously at the shelves of goods that they walked past.

He stopped in front of a stand of magazines and put a pile into the basket that Ahsoka held. “Uh, Fox?” She held one up, cringing at the image of a naked Twi’lek woman on the front. “What’s this for?”

She was more perceptive than he thought. “Oh, uh, it’s just for the boys.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding her gaze, “You know what clones are like.”

“Oh, they like this type of thing?” Much to his dismay, the little dynamo opened the magazine and flicked through a few pages, her expression shifting from shock to surprise every other page, “Maybe I should get one as a present for my men.”

Fox coughed, “You don’t need to do that, sport.”

“Don’t need to, want to.” She grinned, taking a few more magazines and putting them in the basket. Fox sighed; he would have to find a way of getting them off her before Skywalker found them.

“Whatever you say.” They headed towards the checkout and Fox noticed her trying to hide a yawn, “Getting tired, racer?”

“A little.” She admitted, “Can I do the scanning, Fox? Please!”

“Knock yourself out.” He stepped back, letting her excitedly use the checkout machine whilst he counted credits, “Where did General Skywalker say he would pick you up?”

“From the GAR compound.” She said, tapping the screen.

That meant the men would see her and undoubtedly become distracted by her. The little dynamo had the Corrie Guard wrapped around her little finger and they often invited her to the compound when she was on leave. Any hope of having a relaxing evening went down the drain.

She stepped in line with him, “Time for you to pay.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment as the taxi fare had been paid through her Jedi allowance. Fox was lucky to get fair amounts of pocket credits, but he didn’t like to spend it all on things for his men.

“All done.” He collected the two bags, passing one to her, “Want to head back?”

She nodded, “I just need to make a call. You know, let my Master know that I’m on my way back.”

“I’ll hail another cab.” He said, leaving her in the store. The sun was just setting and casting vibrant tones across the tin roofs of different shops. Sometimes, Fox, Thorn, Thire and Stone would sit on the roof of the GAR compound to watch the sunsets and sunrises. It had become a tradition of sorts.

Their ride back was uneventful except the little dynamo’s knee was bouncing up and down as if she was nervous. It wasn’t until they reached the GAR compound and opened the blast door to the common room when he realised how deceived he had been.

“Welcome home, Commander Fox!” The Coruscant Guard cheered from inside, a banner that repeated the message was above their head.

Fox’s jaw dropped open and he spun to Ahsoka, “Are you responsible for this?”

“Only as a distraction.” She told him, beaming, “Thorn recruited me.”

“We couldn’t have you come back from Kamino without a party, vod!” Thorn slung an arm around Fox, ruffling his hair.

“I was only there for two weeks.” His cheeks felt like they would split by the size of his smile.

“It’s a good enough excuse to get cake.” Stone said, carrying a box with Thire. Fox peered inside, his grin widening- if that was possible, “Your favourite flavour, boss.”

Fox finally understood why Ahsoka had saved her slice of cake from Dex’s, and he was glad that he didn’t eat his piece either.

The little dynamo thrusted him a small bag, “My present’s a little last minute; sorry.”

“You didn’t need to get me anything, racer.” He laughed, taking the bag anyways. He pulled out a copy of the picture from Dex’s and one of the mags from the convenience store that she said she would get for her men. Fox shielded it from the view of his fellow Commanders and ruffled the top of her montrals, “Thanks, sport, but you should save the picture for yourself.”

“No need.” She pushed away his hand when he tried to offer it to her, “Dex printed a copy for each of us so I have one to put up in my quarters.” She gestured to the brown envelope that she had somehow concealed from him, “I better get back to the Temple-“

“Woah!” Fox caught her bicep before she could leave, “Aren’t you going to stay for some cake?”

“You want me to stay?” Her eyes went wide, nearly glassy.

“Of course, racer.” He put an arm around her shoulders and welcomed her to the circle of Corrie Guard Commanders, “You’re one of us, after all.”

It really was the little things in life that sometimes bring the most happiness.

Chapter Text

“Ahsoka! Ahsoka, listen! Prince Lee-Char is engaging Tamson!” She froze at the panic in Anakin’s tone, “I repeat: Lee-Char is engaging Tamson! You need to stop the Prince from being killed!”

“I’m on my way, Master!” She started swimming before turning off her commlink, knowing that Lee-Char would stand no chance against the ferocious Separatist Commander.

She used the Force to propel her through the water which used up a lot of her sparse energy but was necessary if she wanted to get to the Prince’s location in time. The Karkarodon and Mon Calamari were having a stand-off next to the prisoner camp that was now empty.

She started to near them and ignited her lightsaber- as Anakin still had her shoto- when she saw how close Tamson was to tearing Lee-Char’s arm off with his teeth. “Hey, ugly!” With a boost from the Force, she delivered a swift kick to Tamson’s nose, dislodging his death-like grip from the Prince. Lee-Char fell backwards, clutching his shoulder but not bleeding- fortunately. The Mon Calamari were fast healers.

The Prince tried to put himself between them as Tamson recovered from the blow. She understood that he was trying to prove himself to his people, but he couldn’t prove anything if he was dead. Extending a hand, Ahsoka sent a burst of Force towards him, pushing him into the camp and allowing the electric shield to activate with him behind it. Her job would be a lot easier now she didn’t need to worry about him.

“Surrender, Tamson, it’s over!” She pointed her lightsaber at the Commander, hoping she wouldn’t be forced to kill him. It was scary to watch Anakin kill out of rage, and she didn’t want to pick up on his bad habits.

The Karkarodon laughed, revealing all his teeth, “Is a little Jedi Padawan asking me to surrender?”

“I’m not asking.” She replied, pushing her blade closer to his face, “Your army has been defeated, and I can promise you that Dooku won’t send you any reinforcements. The Republic court may be merciful if you come quietly.”

He opened his jaw and roared, managing to hit the hilt of her lightsaber with something that made it short circuit and spark. Ahsoka dropped it as a jolt of electricity went through her hand, burning through her gloves.

There was no time to retrieve her weapon as Tamson swung at her and managed to hit her helmet with his big fist. There was a horrible cracking sound and suddenly water was filling her mouth and nose. Ahsoka kicked his stomach, temporarily winding him as she tore off the rest of her helmet so no shards of broken glass would impale her face.

She slammed her mouth shut and tried to hold her breath, throwing more punches towards Tamson’s chest and stomach. If she could injure him, then Anakin could come and finish the job. But he was halfway across the city. Maybe locking Lee-Char in the prison wasn’t her brightest idea.

Tamson grabbed her arms, easily pinning them to her sides, “Let’s see how long it takes you to drown, youngling!”

That struck a nerve. When Ahsoka was first brought to the Temple, she would constantly have nightmares of drowning in the middle of an ocean. It got so bad that the clan leaders couldn’t bathe her without getting covered in scratches and teeth marks. This was a living nightmare.

Ahsoka kicked him where she knew it would hurt, breaking his hold as Tamson curled inwards on himself. Her lungs burned; she needed oxygen. She blamed her species for having smaller lungs than humans meaning that they couldn’t go for as long without air.

But if she left, Tamson would kill Lee-Char.

Maybe she could draw Tamson to the surface and fight him there- he seemed determined to kill a Jedi. One commlink call to Anakin would ensure that the Prince would be rescued from the prison camp. It was a good idea, and considering her limbs and head were starting to ache from the lack of oxygen, it was the best idea she had.

With one last punch to Tamson’s big nose- hard enough to spill blood- Ahsoka propelled herself off his shoulders to launch herself upwards, relying entirely on her final energy reserves.

She barely got ten metres closer to the surface when something sharp pinched her left calf. She felt piercing teeth tear through wetsuit, flesh and muscle before connecting with bone. A scream ripped through her lungs and the water around them quickly clouded with blood. It filled her mouth, quickly gathering in her lungs. Tamson still had a vice-like grip on her leg and if she wasn’t careful, she could end up needing a prosthetic.

She did the only thing she could.

Master, help! I can’t breathe! He’s holding me down! Help me!

Her panic and fear swarmed their bond and Ahsoka realised she was fighting to stay conscious as Tamson tugged her down deeper.

I’m coming, Ahsoka! Hold on!

Anakin was coming. Ahsoka tried to think straight, but black spots were crowding her vision. In her oxygen-deprived state, Ahsoka remembered a lesson from Shaak Ti when the elder Togruta Jedi was teaching her how to take down an Akul before she returned to Shilli for the right of passage.

The difference between a predator and a prey is that the prey plays dead and the predator fights back.

Jerking her leg back, Ahsoka didn’t have the energy to cry when she felt chunks of her leg getting torn off. All she focused on was freeing herself from Tamson’s grip and using her remaining strength to flip down so they were at eye-level.

She could see scraps of her wetsuit in his teeth and it made her feel sick. Leering forwards, she grabbed the sides of his big head, pushing her thumbs into his eyes until he roared. Knowing that she would soon collapse and die- unless Anakin made it to her in time- she dug her bared fangs into the side of Tamson’s neck.

She slid them through the crucial carotid arteries, feeling hot blood spill over her face, blinding her. Tamson went slack in her arms- dead instantly- and Ahsoka knew she would be joining him shortly as her eyes started to close.

Ahsoka!

There was a whooshing sound and Ahsoka felt herself soaring upwards as her head rolled back. Next came the sensation of biting wind on her face and two fingers being pushed against her neck.

She snapped her eyes open, coming face to face with Anakin. They were above the water surface, and that registered one word in her mind: oxygen.

She started gasping for the air that was so much crisper than what they were breathing in through their oxygen tanks. It would’ve been the nicest sensation in the universe to breathe again except her lungs were in agony and her head continued to spin. She started to hack the salt water out of her mouth and nose, wincing as it irritated her throat and made her head pound.

“Easy, easy, you’re safe now.” Anakin said, sending reassurance and calm to her through their bond. “Just focus on breathing, it’s okay.”

He put a hand just below her breastbone and Ahsoka felt the familiar sensation of the Force working internally. Anakin was relieving her lungs of the water that was preventing them from working properly.

She tried to orientate herself. She was half-leaning on a destroyed SBD that was somehow floating. Anakin was treading water, one arm under her armpit to keep them together and afloat.

“My… lightsaber…” She rasped. Kriff, it hurt to speak.

“Easy. I’ll get it later.” He said before smirking at her, “Good job taking care of Tamson, Snips.”

His foot lightly tapped her left shin and she yelped, “My leg!”

That explains the blood. Can you hold yourself up?” She nodded, feebly holding onto the droid behind her as Anakin dropped below the surface. She felt him gingerly touch her foot and knee, avoiding the injury, which told her how serious it was- in case the pain wasn’t doing that already.

He appeared in front of her again, fiddling with his suit, “Just hang on, okay? I’m getting you some help.” She just nodded again, too weak and tired to speak. Anakin activated an emergency flare into the sky and raised his comm, “This is Skywalker requesting immediate medical evac for Commander Tano. She’s oxygen deprived and her leg has been severely injured in battle.”

She caught his eyes as he waited for an answer, and he sent her a reassuring smile. “Lee-Char… he’s…”

“He’s okay.” He put his arms back around her again, allowing her to relax and keep them above the surface, “He’s out of the prison camp that you oh-so-unkindly locked him inside.” She gave him a look, making him laugh, “I’m kidding, Snips, you did an excellent job of keeping him safe.”

“Nearing your position, General Skywalker!”

The voice of Hawk usually reassured Ahsoka, but not when every movement hurt, and he was one of the pilots who liked to show off with fancy manoeuvres.

“Will you... be okay…”

“We can manage clean-up without you.” Anakin said, understanding what she was trying to say, “You need to get your stomach pumped and be on pure oxygen for a while, not to mention the state of your leg. It’ll probably need to be operated on.” He sensed her fear through their bond, and more than likely saw it on her face, “If it does, I’ll be there before you go under. I promise.”

She nodded, hearing a gunship overhead. “Hey... Master…” She coughed more of the water from her lungs, “Tamson… was a fool…” She saw a medic being lowered on a grappling line, “He shouldn’t… shouldn’t have bit something that could bite him back.”

Anakin laughed, “If anyone was going to teach him that, it would be you, Snips.”

He helped the medic attach the harness to Ahsoka, being as careful as they could when it came to her leg. She rested her head weakly against the clone’s chest, feeling sick, nauseous and tired, but managed the strength to give Anakin one final smile before they were hoisted onto the gunship.

“You look rough, Commander.” Kix said as he secured an oxygen mask to her face. “But you’ve had worse.”

“I would… disagree…” She coughed, felt something warm and sticky on her chin and Kix’s expression became serious, “On… that…”

“Stay with us, Commander.” She tried but she was so tired, “Hawk, get a move on!”

She peered through the slits of the gunship’s doors as her consciousness slipped away, watching the tumbling waves disappearing beneath them. She wouldn’t be coming back to an ocean planet any time soon, that was for sure.

Chapter Text

“I don’t think this is allowed, Ahsoka.” Ponds tried for the fifth time, but his words fell on death montrals. She continued to tug and pull on his fingers like the Twi’lek children on Ryloth.

“Why wouldn’t it be allowed?” She looked up to him, eyes wide and confused, “I think the Jedi Temple library should be open to everyone.”

Ponds sighed, “It’s nice that you think that, but I know lots of Jedi who would disagree.” Mace Windu being one example. “We could’ve done this in the barracks.”

She stiffened and turned her face away from him, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He frowned at her, not commenting on the way she was sniffing every few seconds and she was paler than usual. He’d read the report about the disastrous relief mission that she went on with Padawan Offee after the Second Battle of Geonosis, and it sounded like a nightmare. He didn’t blame her for wanting to keep her distance from the clones for a while.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Ponds.” She said, looking up at him again, “I’m sure one of the Jedi Masters will help me.”

An image of Windu’s face when Ahsoka asks him to give a testimony of the First Battle of Geonosis forced Ponds to put his preferences aside, “It’s fine, Commander, I’ll help you.”

She perked up, “Thank you, Ponds,” she sounded genuine. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

He nodded, following her into the Jedi Temple library and trying to not look out of place amongst the small groups of younglings and Jedi Masters. It wasn’t too busy, which was expected with the war raging across the galaxy and Jedi being needed on every frontline.

Ahsoka led him to a booth with a computer terminal and pulled up a second chair, offering him the one that was already there out of courtesy. He nodded in gratitude; clones didn’t know much about libraries, but they knew that they were usually quiet places where one wasn’t allowed to make a lot of noise. He was at a loss of what to do when Ahsoka sneezed suddenly and the high-pitched sound echoed around the room.

“We can talk, you know.” She said once they were sat down, her eyes sparkling with amusement, “We just have to be quiet.”

“I can do that.” He said in a low tone. When Ponds wasn’t screaming orders across active battlefields, he was trying to be as quiet as possible whilst sneaking around on enemy territory. “Shall we use hand signals?”

Ahsoka giggled, giving him the signal for ‘enemy not spotted, we’re clear.’ He responded cheekily with ‘what’s the plan of attack?’

“Right.” She sat upright, using a voice that was only slightly quieter than her usual one, “I’ve been set an assignment in my History of Outer Rim Conflicts class and I need to interview someone who had a lead role in a battle where the casualties were over two thousand for each side.”

“The First Battle of Geonosis.” He said with a nod, “I’d hardly call that a historic battle. It only happened- what? A year ago?”

Her eye markings flattened, “That’s historical enough, Ponds. I picked it because it’s the only pre-Clone Wars battle that I actually understand.” He didn’t tell her that the Battle of Geonosis started the Clone Wars, not wanting to burst her bubble.

Ahsoka wiped her nose with her bracer in a very un-Jedi-like way. “Let’s begin.” Despite her apparent exhaustion, she smiled kindly at him, “The questions aren’t hard, I swear.”

“Don’t swear over it.” He grinned at her, earning an eyeroll in response, “If it’s just questions about the battle, then it won’t be difficult.” He tapped the side of his head, “Clones have excellent memories. Not that I don’t enjoy your company, Ahsoka, but can’t you just access an official report?”

“If I just needed facts, that’s what I would’ve done.” She smiled at him a little sheepishly, “My teacher wants us to speak to people, understand their emotions as they recall the events.”

“Oh.” Everything clicked, “You’re going to look in my head.”

Her eyes bulged, “No, no, not like that. I’m only going to get a feel for your emotions- with your consent, of course.”

He understood a little better; it was just like when Windu automatically knew when he disagreed with a strategy without even needing to ask. Surface emotions.

He couldn’t exactly say no to her pout either, “Okay, you can do that, but no scavenging around.” He pointed a finger at her, “I mean it, little one.”

Ahsoka held up her hands in surrender, “I swear on my Master’s life to not invade your thoughts.” Then she did what he thought might be a salute, but it was a poor excuse for one.

That settled his nerves a little. He trusted her enough to carry on with the interview. Ahsoka chewed her stylus as she read off her datapad, “What is your name?”

“CT-411.”

She blinked at her datapad before writing, “I’ll just put ‘Ponds’. Okay, next, rank. Commander of…” She trailed off, looking up at him expectantly.

“Commander of Lightning Squadron, 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps.” He told her, a hint of pride in his voice. “Grand Army of the Republic.”

“Such a fancy title for Windu’s lap dog.” Ahsoka snickered, “Right, age at time of battle.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “Ten standard years.”

“Ten times two…” She put her stylus and datapad on the table and Ponds felt a healthy amount of concern when she started counting on her fingers.

“Twenty.”

“Thanks.” The chevrons on her lekku darkened as she wrote down the number, “I’m still not quite with it after that awful supply run mission.” He nodded, completely understanding as she frowned at her datapad. “Twenty still sounds young, doesn’t it? Do you think it’s believable?”

“It’s the truth!” He exclaimed with a loud laugh before lowering his voice, wincing. “You can attach my file to your assignment if your teacher doesn’t accept it.”

“It’ll be fine.” She assured him, wiping her nose yet again. She would make it sore and red- redder- if she wasn’t careful. “What was your role in the First Battle of Geonosis?”

“I arranged five commando squadrons to follow General Windu’s orders and then I led troops on the north side of the battle.” He said, trying to ignore the light probing that he felt in his mind. How Ahsoka was listening, writing and using the Force- whilst sniffling and occasionally coughing- was beyond him.

The questions about the battle were easy to answer. Although the First Battle of Geonosis was nearly a year ago, the little details remained ingrained in his mind, even more so than some of the more recent operations he’d been on. Ahsoka would ask a question and the answer slipped through his lips before he really had to think about it; that’s how natural it was. He didn’t even notice the casual mind probing after a while.

It was also nice to talk about the battle as most of his men weren’t deployed to Geonosis. Ponds would’ve been lying if he wasn’t showing off about his heroics a bit.

“So, I lifted both men over each shoulder and I said to them; ‘I know I don’t look like much, but I’m your kriffing guardian angel right now!’” He was stood up, mimicking the pose of having his arms wrapped around two invisible wounded clones.

“Wow!” Ahsoka’s eyes were wide as she looked up at him, “Did they both live?”

“You bet they did!” He sat back down, no longer trying to be cautious with volume. “I ran back to our lines, their legs and arms hitting into me like a sack of tubers. I didn’t make it all the way though! A droid got a lucky shot and a Captain had to come out to help me carry both men back.”

“You got shot?!”

“Nothing a bit of bacta couldn't fix.” Nearly every man under Ponds’ command had been shot at some point in the Clone Wars, and he was fairly certain Ahsoka had taken a hit or two before, but it seemed to impress her nonetheless. “Do you want to see the scar?”

She nodded frantically, making him chuckle as he removed his glove, vambrace and bracer. He rolled up the sleeve of his undersuit to reveal the scar of a blaster bolt graze along the inside of his forearm. It was pale and faded with age, but Ponds would never ignore it. Every clone honoured their first battle scar, and he was no different.

“Can I touch it?” Ahsoka looked like she was trying to restrain herself, so he nodded her on. She ran her cold fingertips along the scar as if it were wet flimsy and she was afraid of tearing it, “Did it hurt?”

He laughed, “Once the adrenaline wore off, it did. Have you never been shot before, Ahsoka?”

“Of course, I have.” She said defensively, releasing his wrist in order to half-turn and show him the angry mark on the back of her bicep, “It’s not as cool as yours.”

He didn’t think it would be right to touch her scar like she had touched his, so he put his armour back on instead.

“You’ll get plenty more.” He said as she turned back around. “And if you’re really lucky, you’ll be able to tell people about them instead of having them recorded in a post-partum.” He didn’t think she really understood the joke, but a new voice spoke before he could.

“Who’s your friend, Tano?” A high-pitched voice asked from behind them, followed by some snickering. Ponds knew it was three teenage girls before he even looked at them.

It appeared to be a human girl who had spoken, judging by her position at the front of the triangle. Ponds noticed her lightsaber- making her a Jedi- but she lacked a Padawan braid in her blonde hair- making her a youngling, or an Initiate. Flanking her was a Twi’lek and a Patitie, both younger than the leader of the little gang.

“Oh, hey, Ters.” Ahsoka said before sneezing violently, making the girls erupt into giggles. Ponds noticed that Ahsoka’s lekku were nearly black. These girls were a threat to her, and that made them a threat to him.

Did these girls even know who they were dealing with? Ponds didn’t hesitate to show them.

“Commander Tano, maybe we should complete these battle plans somewhere without children running around?” He said, looking directly at Ahsoka and putting on his most battle-hardened voice, “Mistakes and pathetic distractions can cost lives.”

Her eyes were filled with unrushed tears and her voice came out quiet, “I think that’s a good idea, Commander Ponds.” She mustered some confidence and played along, “I think Master Skywalker’s quarters are empty. We’ll be free to work in peace there.”

At the mention of the famous Jedi General, Ters’ ego started to falter, and she stuttered, “C-Clones aren’t allowed in Jedi quarters, Tano.”

“Really?” Ahsoka asked, slowly crossing her arms over her chest. It was funny how a 5,1” Togruta with a runny nose could suddenly become intimidating, but that’s what command could do to people.

“Well, why don’t you go and tell Master Skywalker that?”

The two girls flanking Ters exchanged worried glances and each took a step backwards. Even the human girl looked a little afraid. Ponds spoke up, “Why can’t Ters snitch to her own Master, Commander Tano?”

Ahsoka smiled as Ters started to furiously blush, “Unfortunately, Commander, Ters hasn’t passed the Initiate Trials, so she doesn’t have a Master.”

Ponds feigned shock and offered the girl a sad smile, “That’s disappointing to hear, but I’m afraid that only the best can lead clones on the battlefields.” He passed Ahsoka her datapad and stood up, easily towering over Ters, “Here, you can play on this computer now we’re done with it.”

There were probably rules against terrorising younglings, but Ponds wouldn’t allow Ahsoka to be walked all over by these goons. She deserved better than having to put up with it.

They walked past the madly embarrassed younglings, towards the exit of the library. Once outside, Ponds glanced at Ahsoka to offer her a nod and gasped when she threw herself into his arms.

“Thank you, Ponds.” She whispered, and he wasn’t sure if the wetness on his cheek was tears or snot. “You didn’t need to do that for me.”

“That’s what friends are for.” He assured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders once she released him. They carried on walking, “Let me know if they cause you any more trouble, and I’ll put in a word with General Windu.” Ahsoka laughed, but he wasn’t joking. “Were you serious about heading to Skywalker’s quarters to finish your assignment?”

“I only said that to make Ters jealous.” She said with a sheepish smile. “I think I have everything I need.” She turned to face him, making both of them stop, “What can I do to thank you for giving up your time and helping me, Ponds?”

He sighed, thinking of all the things her Jedi allowance could afford that his meagre clone one could not. “You really want to thank me?” She nodded eagerly at him, “Get some rest.”

Her eye markings shot up, “What?”

“You’re sick, Ahsoka.” He told her seriously, “You’ve caught some sort of flu, or cold, from freezing yourself to wipe out those brain worms,” she flinched at the mention of the parasites, “and running around- doing assignments- won’t help. So, as a thank you, I’d like you to follow my advice and get some rest.”

She blinked at him; he could see the exhaustion plain as day in her eyes. “You really think so?”

“You ever heard of shiny flu?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She frowned, giving him an answer. “When a shiny goes from the clean, antiseptic world of Kamino to a filthy slum to fight all day and night, they get sick with cold-like symptoms. I’ve dealt with many cases in the 91st, and the best remedy is lots of rest and some tea.”

She looked crestfallen, “I didn’t know that my men could get that.” Ahsoka was the only person who would get more upset with her men getting shiny flu then herself getting sick.

He gave her a tight-lipped smile, “Well, now you do.” He nodded in the rough direction of the Jedi quarters, “Go and get some shut-eye; I’ll be around later with the tea that we give our men, but I’ll drink it all myself if you aren’t asleep when I arrive. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir!” She saluted- still incorrectly but he let it slide- beaming widely before sneezing again. He watched her walk away and vowed to protect that precious Commander. She was the ray of sunshine that every clone needed in their command structure.

Chapter Text

Fox watched the footage of Tarkin interrogating Ahsoka, trying not to scowl. His fists clenched when the Admiral took her chin in his grubby fingers, speaking down to her like she was nothing- like she hadn’t saved his life at the Citadel.

He may have just arrested her for killing a prisoner, but Fox found that he couldn’t muster any hatred towards Ahsoka.

He rubbed his eyes, remembering how the little dynamo had been close to tears when he cuffed her, and he hadn’t even offered a word of sympathy. Skywalker had come to see her- just to speak to her- but Fox had to refuse. Karkin’ Tarkin didn’t want anyone visiting her which went against the rules for juvenile offenders, but Fox knew that he called insubordinate if he challenged the Admiral.

Hopefully, this was all a big misunderstanding, and Ahsoka wasn’t in the wrong. A small part of him knew that Ahsoka wasn’t in the wrong.

Maybe he could go and speak to her. He and Ahsoka were friends, and he was certain she’d be more willing to talk to him- someone of the same rank- than the Admiral.

Stepping out of the office into the security room, Fox jumped when he saw Ahsoka speaking into a commlink on the other side of the glass.

A prisoner has escaped. Subdue the prisoner.

His hands landed on his pistols out of instinct, “What’s going on here?”

“It wasn’t me!” She looked petrified.

Prisoner is lying. Prisoner is using Jedi mind trick and that is why she sounds convincing.

He hit the emergency alarm and watched Ahsoka run, lifting his comm, “Alert! Alert! The Jedi prisoner has escaped!”

His training flashed before his eyes: Chase the prisoner. Subdue the prisoner. Suddenly, he was running as well.

“She’s heading north in the prison corridor.” His comm blinked at him. “Cut her off!”

“Copy that.”

Ahsoka was stood in front of three men that laid motionless. Her lightsabers were on her belt and her shoulders were shaking. If she had killed them, why did she stop and put her lightsabers back on her belt? Why wasn’t she stood on the other side of them, running away?

Fox raised his blasters and purposefully shot to miss.

Ahsoka saw him and started to run again. He wanted to call out to her to stop, but his voice didn’t work. Instead, he rushed forwards and kneeled by his fallen men. His wrist comm was suddenly activated and he was talking into it.

“Suspect has killed three clones. Code red.” No, no, no! Why did it feel like he had no control over his actions? “If you see the target, shoot to kill.”

“Belay that order, Commander Fox!” He’d never been more grateful for Skywalker’s presence.

“She’s killed troopers.” No, somebody had killed troopers, not necessarily Ahsoka.

Fox stood and was quickly joined by Skywalker and Captain Rex. His legs were shaking, and his throat felt like it was closing up from the smell of burnt plastoid and flesh in the air. There was so much to take in that he couldn’t think straight.

“I know Commander Tano.” Rex said, leaning towards him aggressively. “She would never do something like this!”

Fox wanted to agree, but the genetically engineered part of his brain that fed off facts instead of emotions was too strong for him. “Then who did?”

“Quiet.” Skywalker said, pushing in between them. “Ahsoka!” He was using the Force to amplify his voice, “It’s me, Anakin. Stop running.” He sounded as desperate as Fox felt.

You’re smart, sport, listen to your Master.

Then, “You can’t help me, Master. Someone’s setting me up.”

“I believe you, Ahsoka.”

Fox wanted to push his Commander of the Coruscant Guard persona away and support her as well because he did believe her. Everything was too cleverly done. It had all fallen into place as if someone had planned this, and solo prison breaks were usually anything but organised.

“But no one else will.”

Fox was trembling as Skywalker turned back to the two clones, “Keep searching until we find her. Rex, call security. Tell them we need to-”

He felt himself losing the battle in his mind. As the conversation droned around him, Fox lost control to his training.

Find and eliminate the threat. Ahsoka Tano wasn’t a threat. Find and eliminate the threat. Ahsoka Tano could be a threat. Find and eliminate the threat. Ahsoka Tano is the only identifiable threat.

The next hour was a blur. He was vaguely aware of setting his blasters to stun, screaming orders at his men and the sensation of water getting in the cracks in his armour on his shins. The clones’ efforts were futile; he knew they stood no chance of tracking Ahsoka down.

Why did he press the emergency alarm instead of giving her the chance to explain in the prison complex? All he was doing was making a potentially crazy Jedi feel cornered and wearing down his men.

When he finally regained his perception of reality, he was racing through the tunnels of the sewer system and he finally found Skywalker who had let Ahsoka escape into the Underworld. He remembered that Ahsoka wasn’t as streetwise as he was, and now she was alone with the vermin of the lower levels.

Skywalker shook his head, “We’ve lost her. Regroup the clones.”

Members of the Coruscant Guard stepped out of the way for their Commander as if they could sense the tension in the air. Fox kept his visor pointing down, making his intention to be alone as clear as glass.

He heard a murmur of conversation between two men who had been attacked before he hit the emergency alarm, the ones who had only been knocked unconscious.

“…A black shape came from nowhere, didn’t it?”

“Yeah… and when we came to, it looked as if Commander Tano had just arrived…”

“That’s Jedi mind tricks, I bet.”

Once inside his office, he removed his helmet and threw it against the wall in a fit of rage. It bounced back, hitting him on the knee in its rebound. He barely registered the flare of pain and he clenched his fists so hard that the plastoid threatened to crack and splinter.

He was so angry.

He was angry that his men had been murdered. He was angry that all the evidence pointed towards Ahsoka being the killer, the same little dynamo who helped organise a welcome home party for him when he kriffed his ankle. He was angry that Skywalker was reacting irrationally and letting his emotions cloud his judgement.

Most of all, he was angry at himself for letting it all happen.

When Ahsoka had come to the prison complex to speak to Turmond, he’d nearly went into the cell with her. He hated Turmond, but he would’ve stopped Ahsoka from killing her.

I don’t know what happened! Her voice was shaky: shock.

Commander, she’s dead. Ahsoka’s eyes widened when she heard the news.

Can’t say I blame you, Commander Tano, but all the same, you’re under arrest.

He slammed his fists on his desk, trying to erase Ahsoka’s fear-filled eyes from his mind. If she had just Force-choked someone to death, why did she not resist arrest and throw them against a wall?

He’d held a kriffing gun to an unarmed teenager’s head; what the hell was wrong with him?

A knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts. Somehow, he’d ended up on his knees, forehead resting against his desk and fingers gripping his hair. Some chunks fell out as he stood up, wiping a hand down his sweat soaked face.

The knock sounded again, followed by a short, “Commander?”

“Come in.” He barked, turning around to face the door but leaning against his desk. He felt too weak to stand. Hound entered, his helmet off and a worried expression on his face, “What is it, Sergeant?”

“Commander Fox, sir.” Hound was nervous; great. “Admiral Tarkin has ordered you to interrogate General Skywalker to better understand his involvement in Commander Tano’s escape.”

Kriffing fabulous.

Tarkin wanted him to interrogate one of the most powerful and well-known Jedi Knights in the Order who threatened Fox when he didn’t let him see Ahsoka. Fox found that he couldn’t blame Skywalker for helping his Padawan escape, even if she was the filthy murderer that the evidence was suggesting she was.

For the first time in his career, Fox found himself wanting to pass the job onto someone else and just collapse onto his bunk, but there was a crazed Jedi on the loose. Having clones killed was one thing; dead civilians was another.

“Tell Tarkin to contact the Jedi Council. They’ll speak to Skywalker.” He forced out, “I don’t wish to be disturbed for a few hours.”

Hound tilted his head to one side curiously- he was spending too much time with Grizzer. “Were you injured during the chase, sir? Are you not feeling well?”

“Never better.” He muttered, trying to not look like he was halfway through a breakdown, “Tell the men to stand down for now. We’ll wait until the Council clear us to persecute Ahso- Commander Tano.”

“Yes, sir.” Hound said, finally leaving Fox in peace.

Stepping around his desk, Fox opened the bottom drawer and started scavenging through the odd things he’d collected during his time on Coruscant. There were some dusty medals, tourist brochures and the occasional gift that a civilian had given, but he didn’t even glance at those.

Instead, he pulled out the picture that he, Dex and Ahsoka had taken near the start of the war. It was slightly crumbled as it was shoved to the bottom of his drawer, only being pinned up to his bulletin board when he knew the little dynamo was coming to visit.

How could someone with such a contagious smile, big eyes and kind heart be a criminal? Fox dealt with bad guys every day, and Ahsoka was no bad guy. Even when they had entered Turmond’s cell and seen her dead, Ahsoka looked saddened. If only the sound had been operating on the footage, they could-

The sound!

Fox ran out of his office, picture in hand. He raced to the barracks, scaring the life out of his men who were trying to get some rest before the inevitable chase they were sent on, “Where’s Lecky?!”

Everyone blinked at him- he must’ve looked like he was losing his mind. Fox growled, “I said, where is Lecky!”

“I’m here, sir.” The shiny scrambled out from his bunk, standing stiffly at attention for only a second before Fox grabbed his arm and pulled him out into the corridor, “Sir! What are you doing?”

“My job, which is to analyse the evidence.” Just like what Ahsoka had been assigned to do right after the Temple bombing. He held up the data rod with the footage on it, “The sound was disabled. I need you to lip read.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” The good thing about shinies is that they didn’t question orders.

Fox connected the datarod to a terminal on the wall, running a hand through his hair as Lecky stared at the recording of Ahsoka seemingly Force-choking Turmond. The prisoner was undoubtedly killed by suffocation, but Ahsoka wasn’t the type of Jedi to Force-choke someone who committed a crime that was worthy of the death penalty.

Ahsoka wasn’t the type of person to even raise a hand to someone who was unarmed.

On the recording, Ahsoka turned and reached out for the door, as if trying to signal someone. As if she was trying to signal to Fox. Why didn’t he wait outside the cell? Another mistake made.

Lecky leaned back, scratching his head, “Commander Tano seems to say the same word four times, sir. It’s a name, beginning with an ‘l’ and it has a ‘t’ in the middle.”

“Letta.” Fox said, “That’s the name of the prisoner.” This was proving unhelpful. “Is that all she said?”

“Whilst the prisoner was being Force-choked? Yes, sir.”

That gave him an idea. Fox recorded the clip to when he left Ahsoka in the cell, “Tell me what you see, Lecky.”

He pressed play and the lip-reading clone payed close attention, translating only a moment after Ahsoka’s and Turmond’s lips would move.

“Commander Tano said that Letta should get whatever she needs to say off her chest as she doesn’t have much time. Letta said that feeding… someone’s name- the nano droids wasn’t her idea.”

Then whose idea was it?

“Commander Tano asked why Letta was saying this now and why she didn’t reveal this before?”

Fox couldn’t help but smile at Ahsoka’s attempt at playing detective. He had taught her about interrogation.

“Letta said because her life is in danger.” Fox paid closer attention. Turmond knew someone was going to kill her. “Sir, if the prisoner-”

“Stay focused, Lecky.” Fox barked, startling the shiny into concentrating again.

He knew from dealing with criminals that they were more cooperative with answering questions when they knew their life was on the line. Terrorists were different. They usually didn’t give a bantha about their lives. This only told Fox that Letta was a puppet of something- or someone.

“Letta said that the person behind this will be able to get to her unless Commander Tano knows the truth… Letta said that a Jedi showed her how to make the bomb.”

Fox felt his heart rate pick up, “Does she say a name?”

“No, sir.” Lecky shook his head, trying to understand the silent conversation between the two women, “Letta started talking about the Jedi Order, about how they’re all warmongers and a Jedi agreed with her. Letta said she would only tell Commander Tano who it was if she promised to protect her. She said she’s been set up.”

Fox felt himself starting to tremble again; why hadn’t Tarkin asked someone like Lecky to investigate the recording? At what stage in his advanced training did they tell him that it was normal for the sound to be disabled right before a murder?

“Commander Tano demanded to know who was behind this, and Letta was choked before she could reveal the name.” Lecky stood upright.

That meant that someone had been watching the exchange and they had been the Jedi responsible for Turmond’s death; not Ahsoka. Everyone was chasing the wrong Jedi.

Fox felt his hands curl into fists, screwing the picture from Dex’s into a ball. Ahsoka’s escape had been set up as a distraction. By now, it would be impossible to find who had killed Turmond. They were probably long gone.

“Thank you, Lecky.” He forced out, closing his eyes, “You’re dismissed.”

Once the shiny was gone, Fox activated his wrist comm to the Jedi Temple, “General Skywalker, I have critical information regarding Commander Tano’s case. I need to speak to the Council.” He uncrumpled the picture, smoothing out the creases over Ahsoka’s face.

“Tarkin already told us, Commander.” There was bitterness in Skywalker’s tone, “Myself and General Koon have been tasked with finding Ahsoka. Have your men organised into search parties.”

He wasn’t going to give up, “Sir, wait-”

“Have your men ready to find my Padawan, Commander Fox!” The Jedi Knight snapped, “Skywalker out.”

There was nothing he could do. Fox couldn’t disobey an order. Hopefully, Ahsoka would stay on the run long enough for the Jedi to figure this out. And maybe she would forgive him for being such a di’kut.

Until then, he had a duty to his fallen men. A duty to find who was responsible for their deaths and punish that person accordingly.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Chapter Text

“General Secura, Commander Bly, thank you for coming at such short notice.” Windu’s greeting was slightly dryer than normal.

“Happy to help where we can, General.” Bly said when Aayla stayed silent. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her looking worriedly over the refugeed Twi’leks. “Where will we be most useful?”

“There is a lot of reparations to be done planet-side. Have your men sent down in gunships.” Windu turned to Aayla, “Secura and I must negotiate a new treaty with the Twi’lek leaders.”

When she didn’t move initially, Bly discreetly reached out and brushed a hand on her elbow, drawing her gaze back to him. He could see it in her eyes; she was concerned about her people, and also saddened by the ordeal they had endured. “I’ll organise the men, General.”

She blinked, blushing a little when she realised that she dazed out, “Thank you, Commander.” Then, with straight shoulders, she followed Windu out of the hanger, leaving Bly amongst the refugeed Twi’leks. Some were receiving medical care whilst others talked in groups in hushed tones or slept under GAR blankets on the hanger floor.

“Get yourselves onto transports.” He told his men through his helmet comm, “We’re going planet-side to help rebuild the city.”

A series of replies could be heard, along with some grumbles of the pilots who had just got out of the cockpits. He was about to turn back to the LAAT’s when the blue tips of a pair of montrals caught his eyes. In the centre of a group of Twi’lek children, Ahsoka Tano was sat cross-legged.

He hadn’t thought that Ahsoka would be helping with clean-up after she led the assault on the blockade. Yet, here she was, and Bly found himself walking towards the group of youth. It had been a few months since their adventure on Maridun and he wondered if she was enlisting these kids to take down some wild beast like she had with him.

She looked up when he got closer and smiled, showing her teeth which made him shudder inwardly as he smiled back. He remembered her teeth being covered in the mastiff phalone’s blood, looking up at him from underneath the slain creature. “Hey Bly!”

“Ahsoka.” He greeted her with a nod then glanced at the wide-eyed Twi’lek children staring in awe at his armour. He passed his helmet to a red-skinned boy near his feet who tried putting it on and nearly toppled over from the weight.

“Careful, Mica.” Ahsoka laughed, standing up. “Guys, this is my friend, Commander Bly.”

“Hello Commander Bly!” Came the chorus of replies including Mica’s distorted voice from the voice modulator on his helmet.

“Hello everyone.” He replied in their native tongue, smiling at each colourful face in turn.

“You can speak Ryl?” Ahsoka said, picking his helmet off Mica’s head and handing it to Bly. She was slightly taller than the last time he saw her, and her lekku were just reaching her collarbones, but she still had a lot of growing to do.

Bly nodded, “Aayla taught me a little.” Then, he cringed, remembering how Ahsoka had commented on the way he referred to Aayla several months ago.

She definitely noticed his slip up, but she didn’t say anything, instead turning to the children around them, “Right, who’s hungry?”

“You’re taking them to the mess?” Bly asked when all twelve children jumped out, complaining in Ryl about how hungry they were. “Can’t we give them ration packs?”

“And let them burn themselves on the self-heating meals?” Good point. “I would’ve taken them earlier, but I was worried about some getting lost or separated, but now you’re here.” She gave him the cheeky grin which implied she was about to do something reckless or unorthodox when really, she just wanted to make sure the children were safe.

Gone was the youngling who only wanted fun and adventure and in exchange was a responsible Padawan who cared most of all about looking out for others. He had to say, he was impressed.

“I’ll join you.” He agreed, slamming on his bucket and contacting his Second, “Dauxer, I’m staying ship-side for a while to assist Commander Tano. You’re in charge.”

“To assist Commander Tano’s babysitting duties, sir?”

Of course, they could see him from the gunships. Bly groaned, and cut off the channel, not having the energy to act all tough and stern. He removed his helmet again- the Kaminoans had taught all clones that helmets distressed children and should be kept off when out of combat. “Ready, Ahsoka?”

“Yep.” She stepped back, revealing a chain of children who were all holding hands. Again, he was stunned by her organisational skills. “Let’s get going. Can you make sure nobody gets left behind?”

“Yes, sir.” He slid to the back of the group, just behind Mica and a blue-skinned girl who reminded him of the young Aayla that he’d been shown in photographs.

Bly accepted his task with his usual flare, walking behind the children and doing regular head counts as Ahsoka showed them a few points of interest between the hanger and mess. The children made ‘oooo’ and ‘aaaa’ sounds at the different sights and only twice did Bly have to help with the slight language barrier. These kids were smart, and could confidently speak Basic, even to each other. It reminded him of being on Kamino and murmuring Mando’a to his vod at night. The Kaminoans despised the language of their genetic template, but they couldn’t stop it being spoken after curfew or in the freshers.

“So,” Bly began once they were sat in the mess. Ahsoka was opposite him, playing her food whilst encouraging the children around them to eat up. They drew some attention when they entered, but the clones gave them space when they saw the Commanders. “How did you get put on clean-up duty?”

Ahsoka smiled meekly, “Master Skywalker sent me here. I think he was getting annoyed with me.” The chevrons on her lekku darkened in embarrassment.

“Why’s that?” Bly asked, chewing on some overly processed meat. Sure, Ahsoka could be a bit of a handful at times, but he wouldn’t quite call her annoying. Easily excitable and short tempered, maybe, but not a pain to be around.

She shrugged, showing off her youthfulness as she gazed down at her hands. When she did speak, she was quiet, “Did you hear about the assault on the blockade?”

“I heard that you led it.” Bly paused to help the blue-skinned girl, Sarra, cut her meat into smaller pieces. Ahsoka watched him, not saying anything. “There was an ambush, apparently, and you had to retreat.”

"Yeah,” her dejecting answer caused him to look back at her, a little concerned, “but I disobeyed my Master when the orders to retreat came through.” She looked spaced out, as if she couldn’t see him sat in front of her, “By the time I actually listened, most of my squad had been killed.” She made a sound as if she were about to laugh before taking a long sip of caf.

Bly leaned forwards, not liking her saddened expression one bit. He’d lost men due to his own mistakes before, and it never got any easier, but he always had Aayla there to pick up the pieces. He’d done the same for her. Now, he needed to help Ahsoka.

“You broke through the blockade, Ahsoka, and you helped save the Twi’leks.” He gestured to the children around him as if to prove his point. “That’s all that matters, in the end of the day.”

“Maybe.” Her eyes finally focused on his again, but they seemed dimmer. “But the lives of my pilots wasn’t a necessary price to pay for peace.”

“No.” He said bluntly, reaching out and lightly touching her hand that was resting on the table, “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Those men knew what the price was to secure peace for Ryloth.”

Ahsoka didn’t reply. Her gaze flickered to his fingers on her wrist and he pulled back regretfully. That type of physical contact could ground Aayla, but he got the impression that it made Ahsoka feel smothered.

He was about to apologise when Mica, sat beside Ahsoka, choked on his water and started spluttering over the table. Ahsoka snapped out of her gaze and turned to the child, concern illuminated on her features.

Bly watched her pat the boy’s back as he started to heave, tears threatening to fall. Immediately, Mica was swept into Ahsoka’s arms and was clinging to her arm. “Bet that scared you, bud.” He heard her murmur. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

“Calm down, little one.” He said in Ryl, making Mica’s eyes flash to his, “Ahsoka’s got you.”

“When you said you knew a little Ryl...” Ahsoka said, smiling a little as she rocked the boy in her arms.

“Maybe more than a little.” Bly said, smiling as well. “I didn’t want the General to not be able to speak her native tongue at all, so I started learning.”

Her expression softened, “That was very thoughtful of you, Bly. I don’t think Anakin knows a word of Togruti.”

“From what I’ve heard from your men, he’s being teaching you the Huttese curse words.” He teased, chuckling when she blushed. Not that he’d expect her to fight a war without knowing a swear or two. “Teach me some Togruti, Ahsoka.”

She instantly perked up, “You want to learn?”

“Why not?” Bly said, suppressing another chuckle. He enjoyed learning new languages, even if he only knew a couple words or a greeting.

“Well,” she shifted Mica in her lap, so he wasn’t snivelling on her bare shoulder. He wondered when she would start wearing something a little more appropriate for the battlefield. “There’s ‘Koh-ta-ya’ which is a friendly greeting. Something like…” she thought for a moment before her face lit up, “Like ‘su cuy’gar.”

Bly nodded, the use of the Mando’a making it easy to understand. “So, between family or close friends?” She nodded, beaming, “Koh-ta-ya, Ahsoka.”

Her smile widened, “Koh-ta-ya, sa’daar. That means brother.” She glanced down at Mica, “Koh-ta-ya, tungu.”

“Child?” Bly guessed, earning an excited nod in response. He was still feeling fuzzy that she called him brother.

“Sa’daar.” Mica repeated, swiping at his slightly red eyes. He cocked his head at Ahsoka as if he were trying to figure something out. “Nerra.”

Ahsoka cast Bly a confused look, “Brother.” He told her.

Aayla used to call him ‘Nerra’ before, well, before they became something else to each other. Something that Bly wasn’t sure what to call.

Mica pointed between Ahsoka and Bly, gripping onto her left lek to stay steady. A brief wince flickered over her face; he knew that those organs were sensitive. “Your brother?” He asked in Ryl.

“Not by blood.” He told the child, also in the Twi’lek’s native tongue, “But still family.”

Ahsoka couldn’t understand the language but she seemed to understand. Gently, she pried Mica’s fingers off her lek and sat him back down beside her. She leaned on her forearms towards Bly, looking less sad but also serious.

“You’ve got something on your mind?”

He quirked a brow, “Do I?”

“You’re confused about something.” She smiled sweetly, “Want to talk about it?”

“I’m good, Ahsoka, thanks,” because she was too young to understand anything about love. “Shall we get these kids back to the hanger?”

She seemed a little disheartened but didn’t throw a tantrum like he feared she would at any point on Maridun. They walked back to the hanger, Mica riding on Ahsoka’s back and Sarra clinging to Bly’s waist and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

These were good kids, and they didn’t deserve to have their lives disrupted by war. Most of them probably didn’t know they were now orphans and were expecting their parents to greet them on Ryloth.

“Ahsoka.” He caught up to her as they boarded the children onto a shuttle, each one wanting to hug them goodbye, “What happens to these kids now?”

For the first time, he was the one with the questions and expected her to answer. How the tables had turned.

“I’m sure no one would hesitate to foster kids as great as these.” She said, tapping Sarra on the nose before straightening and looking at Bly. She smiled, noticing his unease, “They’ll be fine, Bly.”

He offered her a stiff nod. She may have not changed in terms of appearance, but Ahsoka was a hell of a lot more mature than the last time they worked together. Then again, he couldn’t expect a child to go into war and be unaffected by it. Ahsoka hadn’t cracked under pressure, and she was taking every battle in her stride, even if things didn’t work out the way she intended.

“Commander.” He whipped around at the sound of Aayla’s voice, nearly giving himself whiplash. His Twi’lek General and closest confident- and something else- approached, looking happier than she did when they arrived on the cruiser, “I thought you went planet-side with the others.”

“Negative, sir.” He struggled to maintain his professionalism, especially when Ahsoka glanced between him and Aayla with a knowing look on her face, “I was assisting Commander Tano.”

“Bly helped me look after a group of orphans.” Ahsoka said, emphasising every word whilst slapping him on the shoulder. “He’s great with kids, Master Secura.”

He knew exactly what she was doing, and he ought to be embarrassed, but Aayla’s lips curled up into a genuine smile, “I always knew you had it in you, Bly.” They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment too long before Aayla glanced at Ahsoka, “Your Master is waiting for you, Padawan.”

“He’s here?!” Suddenly, the old Ahsoka who looked like a caf addict returned and she started bouncing on her heels, “On the cruiser?”

“In the briefing room.” Aayla said, her eyes back on Bly. If he didn’t know any better, he would say she was trying to get rid of the Togruta. He enjoyed Ahsoka’s company, but Aayla’s was better.

“Wicked!” Ahsoka started to run before pausing, offering Aayla a quick bow and sending a wink at Bly, jerking her head towards his Jedi. “Thanks for hanging out with me, Bly!”

“No problem, kid.” He winced a little; she was hardly a kid anymore. “Ahsoka, wait!”

She spun on her heel, “Yeah?”

“Tell General Skywalker that…” he thought for a moment, figuring out what to say, “Tell him that I think you’ll make a fine Knight one day.”

A grin split her face apart, “I will, Commander, thank you!” Then, she was gone, just as fast as she was when she hunted the mastiff phalone.

Aayla stepped in line with him, “Skywalker already knows that she will be a great Jedi, Bly.”

“I know.” He carried on watching the hanger doors after they closed behind Ahsoka, “Hopefully, they can hurry the process along.” Aayla frowned, silently asking him to explain, “It’s easier to think about a Jedi Knight going into battle- witnessing all these horrible things- instead of a Jedi Padawan.”

Chapter Text

Rex struggled to keep the grin off his face when Ahsoka walked towards him to board the gunship. Sure, she had grown up a lot over the past few months away from the GAR, and she’d looked nothing but serious since she’d been on the cruiser, but it really was just like old times.

“You’ve been promoted.” She said, matching his grin with one of her own. Her lips were darker, more filled out. “Congratulations, Commander Rex.”

The smile fell off his face. Since he was a cadet, Rex wanted to become a Commander, but now it didn’t feel right. Anakin had purposefully not promoted him after Ahsoka’s departure because they didn’t want to pretend that she was never there. Nobody wanted to replace her.

Commander was her title, not his.

“Did they make you General?” He asks hopefully as they stepped onto the gunship.

She scoffed, “I’m an advisor,” she used an accent that Rex didn’t recognise, but it was clear that she wasn’t exactly pleased. “Got to do what I say, Rexster.”

“Yes, sir.” He quipped cheekily, enjoying her eye roll in response. Somehow, her eyes were smaller than before, but he gave that to her being less eager to learn things. “Any tips for the new position?”

“Do exactly what you’ve already been doing.” She told him, “You’re the best and most experienced CO to lead this siege, Rex. Anakin put faith in you, and so have I.” The flattery was a nice reminder of the times they used to hype each other, but he was never usually the one who needed convincing that they were capable.

“More experienced than the Generals?” He asked, raising a brow.

He wasn’t expecting her to scoff, “The Jedi have spent half of the time in this war just playing politics.” Her dislike towards the Order was new, but not unexpected.

“I don’t know how to be a Commander for the men, Ahsoka.” He said, still protesting his promotion. “They have more faith in you than they’ll ever have in me?”

“Right… the former Commander who was trailed for terrorism and murder?” She leaned towards him, giving him that cocky smile that he had missed so much.

“Remember it was you who first showed me the ropes on Christophsis, Rexster. Everything else I learnt about my role was taught to me by other clone Commanders; Wolffe, Cody, even Fox.” Her smile faded at the mention of the Coruscant Guard officer who chased her around the city.

“Don’t look at me like that, Rexster.” She said, looking up at him through her lashes, “You’re giving me the same look the Council gave me after my trial.”

“It’s a look of guilt.” He told her, naturally stiffening from the seriousness of this conversation, “Guilt that I let them hunt you down- that I joined in- when I knew you hadn’t committed any of the crimes they accused you of.”

She was silent for a few minutes before she turned her head away, “Maybe… we should talk about this later.”

Had she tried to avoid a conversation like this earlier in her military career, Rex would’ve pushed her to speak in the moment, but now she wasn’t his CO; she was his friend. When Bo-Katan boarded, the tension between them could just about be ignored as the Mandalorian warrior addressed her soldiers.

In the corner of his eye, Rex could see Ahsoka was thinking about what he said, and he regretted bringing up her trial at all. They were about to deploy into possibly one of the most important missions of the entire war, and they couldn’t afford any distractions, no matter how much he needed to speak to her.

He noticed Ahsoka didn’t have to reach so far to grab the overhead straps, and he swallowed the urge to tell her to hold on as the gunship lifted out of the cruiser. She looked equal parts beautiful, powerful and experienced as she overlooked Bo-Katan’s holomap of the city.

She wasn’t the naïve kid that he met on Christophsis several years prior, but she also wasn’t as battle-hardened as he remembered her being before the Temple bombing. There was a softness to her gaze, like she was examining this upcoming siege with a different perspective than she used to have when she was at Skywalker’s side.

“Ahsoka.” He said her name lowly, drawing her attention to him, “Are you battle ready?” She frowned, gesturing to the lightsabers on her belt. That wasn’t what he meant. “When was the last time you fought?”

She rolled her eyes at his concern- still cheeky even after she had matured, “I haven’t exactly been a pacifist in my time away from the Order. I’ve kept myself busy and fit.” As if to prove a point, she flexed her free arm, showing off her sharply defined biceps.

“Yeah?” Rex reached out- enjoying the teasing, especially now there was no tension between them- and grabbed her bicep. He dug his fingers into her arm which made her squirm and writhe. “Hm, I don’t believe you.”

“Tough enough to take you on.” She leapt at him, managing to get him into a reverse chokehold in front of Bo-Katan and the clones. It was slightly embarrassing, but Rex didn’t care.

This is what he had missed so much. He remembered the last few months before Ahsoka left, and how she, him and Fives would make the worst puns they could whilst being deployed. The good old days.

“Brat.” He said over his shoulder, breaking her hold and straightening his pauldron. He scoffed, “And here I was thinking you had grown up.”

She pulled a face at him, “As if you want me to grow up.” He didn’t, mostly because it only reminded him of how old he was getting, if his sore joints didn’t remind him enough.

He leaned back to scan her body up and down, “You couldn’t gain another half foot if you tried, kid.” He hadn’t used that nickname in a while. He couldn’t even say it to shinies without getting choked up.

He pointed at her lekku that were nearly reaching her waist, “These things must get in your way. You’re getting old.”

She feigned offence, “Me? Have you seen your wrinkles?”

“Blame your Master for these wrinkles.” Immediately, he realised his mistake, “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

“It’s fine.” She waved a hand, dismissing his apology, “Anakin will always be my Master to me, no matter what.” She frowned, “I didn’t really get the chance to speak to him.”

“You’ll have to when this is over.” He said, matching her frown as he leaned closer to her, “He’s been… weird recently.”

“How so?” Ahsoka was probably under the same impression that nothing could beat the invincible Anakin Skywalker. Rex had been like that as well, for a long time, until recently.

“Too calm at times.” Her eyes widened in worry slightly, “Then, he gets too worked up.”

So worked up that Rex was sometimes fearful of the General’s lightsaber when it wasn’t even in his hand. His actions on Yerbana where he had the entire 501st hidden under a bridge for nearly thirty minutes whilst he negotiated with the Seps was very… unlike Skywalker.

Ahsoka cocked her head, worry already etched onto her features. He regretted bringing it up. He needed her full attention now more than ever, and he’d kriffed up by bringing Skywalker into it. Still, Skywalker needed someone- like Ahsoka- to put him back in his place.

“He’s been a part of this war for too long. I’ll always regret not asking him to come with me.”

“You were going to ask him to leave?” Rex asked, surprised.

“For a moment.” She glanced out of the gaps in the gunship doors, “He said he… understood what I was feeling, and that he had wanted to leave as well, before.” Her gaze returned to Rex’s, sadness swimming in her eyes which only used to harbour happiness. “I’ll never forgive myself for not coming back to say goodbye.”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t sad that Ahsoka never visited him after making her decision to leave. He was worried more than upset. Worried he hadn’t taught her well enough to be able to survive on her own. Worried she would blame him for not trying harder when she was on the run.

“Commander.” It took him a moment to realise the pilot’s voice was coming from his commlink and not Ahsoka’s, “I have Prime Minister Almec of Mandalore on the comm.”

With one final exchanged look between himself and Ahsoka, Rex did his best to portray a confident Commander’s tone, “Put him through.”

The conversations he needed to have with Ahsoka would have to wait. Although, he had a feeling that after this siege, nothing would ever be the same again.

It was one thing to learn how to take care of herself after leaving the Order, but Ahsoka was completely out of her depth when she suddenly had to care for Rex in the aftermath of… whatever the kriffing hell happened on their way to Coruscant.

She all but dragged Rex to a rundown motel on the closest civilised planet, stripped to nothing but his undersuit in an attempt to blend in. He was like an unmoveable brick wall. Nothing she said could lift his gaze from his boots and his hands were twitching as if his fingers were still on the triggers.

Ahsoka was deeply worried about her friend, and that was why she stayed.

“Go and lay down.” She said gently, pushing him towards the single bed in the middle of the room, “I’ll keep watch.” She had a lot of things to do and people to contact; it would be best if Rex was asleep through that.

Maybe she could reach Obi-Wan. Even though she’d felt his Force-signature falter slightly, she knew he was alive now. She wanted to reach out to Anakin, but whenever she nudged their abandoned- yet still intact- Force bond, all she got in response was a flooding sense of darkness, so much that it made her nauseous.

Besides, another Jedi wouldn’t help Rex. He needed one of his brothers, but whoever she tried to touch through the Force felt like a stranger, even Cody. They were all blank slates, like their entire minds had been wiped.

Ahsoka shuddered, distracting herself by pulling a thin blanket over Rex, remembering him telling her that people in shock often got too cold. His eyes were open, and she knew he wouldn’t shut them. Every single one of his brothers flipped like a switch and turned on them. She knew she wouldn’t want to close her eyes after witnessing that.

Taking a knee beside him, Ahsoka put a gentle hand on his forehead, gently rubbing the gauze patch with her thumb, “I’m just going to dive in the shower.”

“Don’t hit your head.” That was the first time he’d spoke since they buried the bodies, and she would’ve laughed at his joke if he didn’t look so… shattered.

“Be right back.” She said, her voice cracking as she stood up.

A shower would do her good. Her clothes stank of war and betrayal, and her montrals were ringing like they used to after any battle, except there was no Anakin to encourage her to get some rest whilst he handled everything else. She wondered where Kix was, maybe he’d been sent with Anakin to Coruscant.

Thinking about her Master- former Master- sent icy pain through her chest, so sudden and sharp that she gasped, leaning against the sink in the dingy bathroom. Tears gathered in her eyes. Anakin wasn’t dead, but he also wasn’t alive; he was somewhere in between.

Wherever he was, it wasn’t a nice place.

Ahsoka whispered an apology before slamming up her shields, cementing them against the overwhelming darkness in the Force. This was a dark day for the Republic, and for the entire galaxy. And yet, motels like this one were probably unaware of the Jedi being murdered by their own soldiers on every frontline.

Master Plo. Ahsoka had felt his life been snuffed out before Rex even opened fire on her. Her oldest friend was gone.

Aayla. Could Bly have killed her? Ahsoka saw the way he looked at the Twi’lek Jedi, yet she was dead in the Force, and he was alive, just a blank slate.

Master Yoda? Surely the Grandmaster hadn’t been killed in the slaughter?

The water was cold, which helped. It ran dark brown as the blood and grime was scrubbed off her skin with her short nails. She’d feel better once she was clean, that’s what she kept on telling herself.

It wasn’t much use. Ahsoka doubted if she would ever feel ‘normal’ again.

After showering, she got re-dressed in her sweaty, dirty clothes. She noticed the absence of the feeling of her lightsabers hitting her hips with every step, but those were the last thing she wanted right now.

Rex hadn’t moved at all. His eyes didn’t even swivel to her when she perched beside him, which was highly unusual for clone troopers. She hoped that removing the chip hadn’t taken part of his personality with it.

If her Rex was gone, she didn’t know how she would…

She didn’t even want to think about it.

“I didn’t think this was how our little reunion was going to end.” Ahsoka said, eventually breaking the silence. She didn’t even notice that she had been running her fingers through Rex’s buzzed hair.

“I didn’t think this was how the war was going to end, Commander.” He said, his eyes finally closing.

Ahsoka’s throat closed up, “Please, don’t call me that.” It hurt too much to hear him say that.

Rex sharply inhaled and turned her head away from her, leaving her fingers hanging loosely in the air. Fresh tears travelled the same tracks on his face from their discussion above the hanger deck.

You’re a good soldier, Rex, so is every one of those men down there. They may be willing to die, but I am not the one who is going to kill them.

“I’ve failed them,” Rex said, his voice a hoarse whisper, “all of them.”

Hearing him sound so broken- so shattered- didn’t sit right with her. He was Rex. The one who taught her that experience outranked everything on the battlefield. The one who reminded her to hang onto the gunship as they crashed onto Aayla’s cruiser. The one who believed she was innocent all those months ago, even though he had to track her down.

He was a Commander, and possibly a better one than she ever was, and it wasn’t fair that his heart had been shattered into a million pieces.

“Not everyone.” Ahsoka said, keeping her voice soft as his shoulder started to tremble. “You haven’t failed Fives.” At the mention of his brother’s name, the Captain-now-Commander whimpered. The sound made her own chest hurt.

The comm calls could wait.

Right now, Rex needed her just as much as she needed him.

She slid onto the bed behind him, felt him tense as her shaking arms wrapped around his torso. For a while, she just rested her face between his shoulder blades and used her remaining energy to support him as much as she could through the Force.

She played back memories of their banter and the knowing looks they would give each other during briefings with Anakin and his crazy plans. She played back memories of their men, saluting the Captain and Commander or just having a joke with them. She played back a rather blurry memory of Cody and Rex arm wrestling in 79s one night.

When her final energy reserves ran out, Ahsoka simply existed as a solid weight on his back and whispered, “You haven’t failed me.”

Chapter Text

Doom hates her.

And that’s saying a lot, considering he couldn’t give a flying kriff about what anyone else does off the battlefield.

She’s so… okay, with everything she’s done.

He gets it, she was innocent in the end, but that doesn’t negate the rather shady (and downright illegal) stuff she did on the run.

The Republic and the gaggle of brothers she has wrapped around her little finger might’ve forgiven her and moved on, but Doom doesn’t forget how readily the young Togruta allied with Ventress when under enough pressure. 

It makes him sick. The Knight (Padawan, Knight, whatever- they’re all soldiers) willingly allied with a witch who’s killed too many of his brothers to count. He heard how the bitch killed Colt during the Battle of Kamino, and he’s willing to bet Tano remembers that too. How she can still team up with that monster is beyond him. 

Innocent of terrorism or not, Doom can’t stand Sith-negotiators.

And yet, here he stands at perfect parade rest for her, listening to her banter with Skywalker, because the Jedi decided two battalions are better than one.

Unfortunately for Doom, those two battalions are the 501^st and 3^rd.

Amazing! Wonderful! Fan-kriffing-tastic!

He keys into the 3rd’s commlink channel, hears nothing but silence. Surely, he can’t be the only person here who feels uneasy about her presence?

For what it’s worth, she’s a brilliant strategist. At some points during the briefing, he almost begins to admire her, but then he remembers the exact number of troopers whose lives were at risk when she escaped from her holding cell.

Innocent people don’t run, he remembers his trainers pummelling into his skull.

Hot rage boils through him as he thinks of Fox and his men, burnt out and all sporting injuries of some kind from the chase, watching and waiting for a conviction only to find she wasn’t guilty of any crimes and that all their hard work was worth shit.

Tiplee twitches next to him, shooting him a worrying glance before returning her attention to the meeting.

The young Togruta finishes up her briefing, and Doom watches as the men of the 501^st- her boys in blue- surround her, smiling and laughing like they don’t realise half of them aren’t going to make it through this one.

He wants to punch something. Preferably, her.

“Commander, a word.”

Kriffing mind readers.

“Right away, General.”

Tiplee leads him away from the rest of the group, her not-quite-hair-not-quite-tentacles flowing through the air as if they’re underwater. Look, he’s not Gree; he doesn’t memorize random species’ body parts for fun- even if it’s for his own General.

They stop a short distance away from the others, and Tiplee fixes him with a glare. “You are angry.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and Doom feels his lips curl under his bucket. There’s no point in denying it, so he doesn’t say anything.

“Why?”

“Let’s not forget, sir.” He starts, trying to maintain his composure through a clipped monotone and gritted teeth. He’s a Commander, after all, and he makes sure to act like one. “You voted against her.”

“I did not believe she was innocent at first, that much is true,” Tiplee says, her voice low as if she's afraid of someone overhearing the truth,, “but I trust the Jedi Council, and I trust Skywalker. The true culprit, though not the expected one, was brought forward. Knight Tano has taken her trials and passed; the youngest to be recorded, if I may add.”

It’s bantha-shit, all of it.

Doom knows she was knighted out of pity and publicity. As soon as she was cleared, the rest of the Republic was more than willing to forget her tribunal to avoid HoloNet gossip.

Doom’s not a droid; he deserves and recognises respect. Tano hasn’t earned his yet, and until she does, she’s a traitor, foreigner, outsider.

Aruetii.

Tiplee raises an eyebrow wearily, peering into his thoughts, “Ahsoka went through a lot to be reinstated in the Order; the Council didn’t make it easy on her.”

More lies: why do all the Jedi lie?

Tano was on the field with her own men within two weeks of her tribunal; not nearly enough time to take the supposedly ‘long and hazardous’ trials.

“I hope this isn’t going to affect your performance on the field, Commander.” Tiplee says, her voice hard and cold.

“It won’t, General.” He promises; nothing will distract him from protecting his brothers.

“Good.” She was a hand, head-tendrils seeming to relax a bit more. “You are dismissed.”

He isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just barks, “Yes, sir!” and salutes, then turns to rally the men.

It’s going to be a hell of a massacre out there.

He hopes the deceitful Togruta doesn’t make it any worse; some of his men can be more than a little trigger-happy when given enough motivation, and nobody wants to deal with a dead Jedi today.

Doom watches Tano fight, and he’s anything but impressed.

The young Togruta isn’t trying to push forward or destroy droids. No, she’s hanging back with the men, just standing there, lazily blocking blaster bolts. At this rate, they’re never going to take Ringo Vinda.

Then again, that may be a slight exaggeration.

Skywalker’s leading the assault from the front, and if Tano hadn’t stayed behind, a quarter of the 501^st would already be gone.

It isn’t that Skywalker is reckless with the lives of his troops (well, maybe he is, considering he left them in the hands of the aruetti), but he seems to have become too reliant on his former Padawan covering things in his absence.

That will cost lives, one day.

“Less thinking, more blasting, Commander!” He hears Tiplar shout, and he suppresses a chuckle from under his helmet as he powers on. She’s always been the more impulsive one of the two sisters, jumping in front of the troops to save their lives at every opportunity.

They reach the next checkpoint- somehow- and Doom hears Skywalker address his men, “Don’t get too comfortable. This battle hasn’t been won yet.”

Doom switches his blaster to safety, starts checking on his men. He lost a fair amount, and a few are walking wounded, but they’re stubborn enough and good enough to get through the rest of the battle.

They have to be; failure isn’t an option.

He spots Tano across the room, kneeling next to a 501^st trooper who’s getting patched up by one of Doom’s medics. Her eye-markings are furrowed in concern as she rests a hand on the clone’s shoulder, lips forming words he can’t make out.

“Master Skywalker, we must get to the command post,” Tiplee says, walking past Doom to speak to the Jedi. He follows her, brushing Tano to the corner of his mind. “Admiral Trench has sent for reinforcements. We must take this post before they arrive.”

“It’s time for phase two,” Skywalker responds, kneeling beside a holomap of the space station.

Doom takes up a position behind Tiplee, then tenses as Tano comes to a stop next to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Aruetii, aruetii, aruetti . . .

The word circles around his skull, and he shakes his head quickly.

“We’re at this position.” Skywalker points to a spot on the holomap, “Tiplar, you’ll take your men down this passageway. Tiplee, you’ll move along here.”

Doom purses his lips at the plan, sceptical. He’s working with two thirds of the men he started with.

“They’ll have to divide their forces to counter us,” Skywalker carries on, “and when they do, Rex, Ahsoka and I will press through the middle. If we time it right, we’ll all converge on this spot at the same time and the droids won’t know what hit them.”

Doom crosses his arms over his chest, “If we’re making a run, we’ll need backup. My men are severely depleted.”

Skywalker nods, acknowledging his concerns. He looks to the 501^st ARC trooper. “Fives, you and Tup take ten of your best men and support Master Tiplar.”

“We’re on it, sir.” The ARC, Fives, replies. Doom’s just glad Skywalker isn’t sending Tano with them.

“Good luck out there, Commander.”

Speak of the devil.

Doom barely turns his head towards the Togruta who thought it was acceptable to speak to him. “Thought Jedi didn’t believe in luck, General.”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Tano blink at him in surprise. She better get used to his bluntness; Doom isn’t friendly to aruetiise.

“Let’s move out,” Tiplee touches his shoulder as she moves past him, lowering her voice, “Focus, Commander.”

“Yes, General.” He replies, turning away from the Togruta. 

He won’t let Tano distract him, not when so many of his brothers need him to keep his head in the game. Enough clones have gotten hurt because of the fake-Jedi already.

“Don’t fall back! Push forward!” Someone in 501st blue yells. 

Adrenaline pumps through his veins, and all Doom focuses on is the anarchy surrounding him; blaster fire echoing in his ears, complemented with the shouts of his brothers through his helmet. 

It's chaos, but he knows this like the back of his hand.

“On your right!” He doesn’t pay any mind to Tiplar; she isn’t talking to him. Focus-

“Sister!” 

There's a single, distinct fire of a blaster, and then someone screams. 

No.

He jerks his head around just in time to see Tiplar fall. His gaze immediately falls on the smouldering black mark on the back of her head, glowing red against yellow-green skin.

A hole.

In the back of his General's head.

His world descends into a waking-dream, and he notes, distantly, that he’s dropped his rifle. His head swims with why on an endless loop, and someone’s yelling at him to get a move on but he can’t, that’s his General-

Rule #1: no soldier left behind.

His body doesn’t seem to work anymore. 

“Doom!” Someone (feminine, he barely registers) shouts, and Tano grabs him by the arm (aruetti, aruetti, aruetti), practically dragging him along with her. “We have to go!” 

He shakes his head, backing away from the battle zone, then breaks into a sprint.

She’s gone.

It isn’t until they make it to the safe room, and he sees a 501st trooper being restrained by the ARC and the Captain, that Doom realises what happened.

“Get Tup somewhere enclosed,” Skywalker orders, his voice croaky from stress and shouting over blaster fire, “Cuff him, Rex.”

His head spins. 

A clone has killed a Jedi. His Jedi.

Doom’s always considered himself a calm and collected leader, but he feels nauseous when his troopers pour their questions into his helmet; what happened, who shot her, why did a clone turn on our General?

He doesn’t have an answer, but he won’t admit that.

“Shut up, the lot of you!” He belts through a private channel, effectively silencing them. 

He scans the room for Tiplee, heart practically pounding out of his ribcage. His General- her sister- is dead. He can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now.

Kriff, his knees haven’t felt this weak since he was a shiny on his first real mission.

He spots her entering the small storage closet with Skywalker, Fives, and Rex. There’s muffled conversation for a bit, and then- is that chanting? 

Even with his audio receptors turned up to the max, he can’t hear what’s happening over there.

“Any idea what’s going on?” Tano's voice behind him nearly makes him jump. Kriffing sneaky Jedi. 

"You tell me." He mutters before remembering she's his superior. "CT-5385 shot General Tiplar, immediately killing her during the battle."

She purses her lips, "Unprovoked?"

Is she serious? 

"Yes," he struggles to keep the annoyance out of his tone, "General Tiplar did not provoke him to kill her."

“That can’t be,” her brow markings furrow together. “I know Tup. He would never do something like this.” She casts a worried glance at the Generals who are exiting the closet, the 501st Captain and ARC trooper not far behind. “Well, not on his own free will.”

Doom takes off his helmet and frowns, “You think someone’s making him do this?”

It's not like clones just go around shooting Jedi. Their loyalty to the Republic is biological and can't exactly snap at any given moment.

Well, that’s not true, a small, rebellious part of his mind whispers. You can see it in your dreams, can’t you?

“I . . . can’t be sure. His mind feels . . . clouded. Chaotic.” Her eyes pierce his, “Almost like it’s at war with itself.”

Well, that’s just amazing.

Doom has never understood the Force (not that he’s ever tried), but what Tano is saying doesn’t seem great by any stretch of the imagination.

“Snips,” Skywalker joins them, addressing Tano with her childish nickname, “I need you to contact the closest medical centre with Kix; organise a secure room for Tup to be examined in.”

She nods obediently, “Yes, Master.”

“Commander Doom, I’d like you and Captain Rex to supervise Tup until we get out of here.” Skywalker adds, “Tiplee and I need to contact the Council.”

“With all due respect, General,” Doom says (because he actually has some respect for Skywalker), “Shouldn’t a Jedi stay near the highly unpredictable and violent trooper right now?”

“I don’t think that’s wise until we know what we’re dealing with,” Skywalker’s eyes flit to Doom’s- remaining- Jedi General, “Tup tried to attack Tiplar. He isn’t getting as violent around his brothers.”

Tano nods in understanding and Doom salutes. “Understood.”

“Good.” The General sighs. “I’d . . . better go tell my men what’s happened.”

Doom waits outside the medbay impatiently, foot tapping out a staccato beat against the hard floor of the space station, the sound filling the seemingly too-large hallway. It feels . . . empty.

They’re taking too long. He paces for a few steps, having half the mind to barge in himself, before the door slides open and reveals the three Jedi and three troopers. They file out of the room and form a small semi-circle, all of them wearing identical grim expressions. 

“You mean the enemy could have made him do this?” Skywalker asks a clone with lightning bolts shaved into his head. Doom joins them, removing his bucket.

“It’s a possibility,” Tiplee answers, head-tendrils waving in the air agitatedly. “There have been rumours that the Separatists have been trying to develop an anti-clone virus. Biological warfare.”

“Listen, we’re not equipped to deal for this kind of situation,” says the medic (Kix, if Doom remembers correctly). “He’ll have to be taken back to Kamino. Only then will you have your answer.” In the corner of his eye, he sees Tano freeze.

“You can’t possibly be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.” She snaps.

“General-”

“Kix.” She cuts the medic off, “We are not going through with that option. Never.”

“As… much as I hate to say this,” Doom speaks up, “we were trained to send all faulty troopers back to Kamino for reconditioning by order of the Republic. We… don’t have a choice.” 

She rounds on him, canines bared and eyes flashing. 

“We always have a choice. Tup is my friend. We are not abandoning him.” She snarls out, and Doom is reminded of a rabid tooka protecting their litter.

“Ahsoka, calm down. Nobody’s getting reconditioned.” Skywalker puts a hand on her shoulder and Doom can see Tiplee frowning in his peripheral vision.

“This trooper has caused quite a bit of trouble for us within the past few hours.” She says, brushing over the fact that Tup murdered her sister, “Are we sure we are to just... let him go?”

“Perhaps we could send him to Kamino, but under the care of Master Shaak Ti,” Skywalker muses, “The doctors there could find out why he did this.”

Rex nods, “That could work. After all, this… whatever this-” the Captain gestures towards the med bay, “-is, could pose a threat to all of us.”

“Then we’re all in agreement?” Tano demands, still not entirely calm.

Doom looks around the circle, trying to read everyone’s expressions. Fives, who’s stayed silent until now, nods. “Yes.”

As the group starts to walk from the med centre, discussing how to best transport Tup to avoid any more collateral damage, Doom notices Tano slipping away, moving in the opposite direction.

“Excuse me, General,” he murmurs to Tiplee only, not wanting to draw everyone’s attention away from the problem at hand. 

She grants him permission with a wave of her hand, fully invested in the conversation around him. Something about an escorted transport.

It takes him longer than he would’ve hoped to find Tano, and after nearly three laps of the med centre, he’s ready to give up.

Then, he catches a glimpse of orange against the backdrop of a white wall.

Of course, she’s waiting by the caf machine.

“There’s caf on the ship,” He calls out, watching her shoulders jolt with surprise.

Tano turns to him, an exhausted look on her face which wasn’t there after the battle, “I know.”

He crosses his arms over his chest as he stops beside her, “Then why are you still here?”

“That was a poor attempt at disguising an accusation as a question, Doom,” she sighs, hitting a button on the machine to add sweetener to her drink.

He suppresses a snarl. Tano’s been acting weird since Tup’s… breakdown (he still doesn’t know what to call it) and Doom would be a crap Commander if he didn’t speculate the aruetti’s involvement in this.

It’s highly unlikely she orchestrated this, but still…

Aruetti are unpredictable.

She barks out a laugh, not yet turning to him, “You think I made Tup kill Tiplar, don’t you?”

“I think you know more about this than you let on,” he says, choosing his words carefully. She’s a Jedi, after all, and this one tends to run if she’s backed into a corner. He doesn’t want to chase for answers. “You seemed very adamant that Tup shouldn’t go to Kamino.”

She whirls around to him, “I don’t want one of my troopers to have their brain dissected, Commander.”

He recoils slightly, uncomfortable from her words. What happens to disobedient clones has always been somewhat of a touchy subject for him, as it is with most of his brothers

“What’s the other option?” He asks, “Let him stay on the field and brush this off? Tell him he’s a good soldier if he follows orders?”

Tano draws back, eyes clenched shut. Doom frowns, reaching out when her whole body shudders but not quite touching her. She starts massaging her temples with her fingers.

What the kriff?

“That’s what he keeps chanting,” she mutters, leaning against the wall as if she’s dizzy. “Good soldiers follow orders, good soldiers follow orders. Over and over and over on repeat, like it’s as vital as oxygen. Like someone’s force-feeding it to him and the only thing he can do is swallow it down.”

Doom nearly rolls his eyes.

“Here,” he passes her the cup of steaming caf. The last thing he needs today is for Tano to faint. “He wasn’t chanting that when I was with him.”

“You wear your insubordination on your sleeve, Commander." She snaps, snatching the cup away from him.

"Noted, sir." He replies in a bored tone, leaning against the wall beside her. “What do you think is wrong with him then?”

She takes a long sip of caf, holds it in her mouth before swallowing. “Kix thinks it’s combat stress, like a nervous breakdown.”

“I didn’t ask what Kix thinks; I asked what you think.” He re-emphasises, adding on, “General Tano.”

“Just because I’m a General, doesn’t mean I have all the answers.” She says, glancing at him before returning her gaze to her boots, “I think it’s something in his brain. On Shilli, there’s a tradition of expelling inner demons through big ceremonies. The Togruta people chant a lot, believing it will eradicate the evil.”

He frowns, “What’s that got to do with Tup?”

“Well, these people, they were different.” Doom notices her sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, and subconsciously does the same, “There’s a word for it in my language, but I don’t know how to phrase it in Basic. Outsider, maybe, or foreigner-”

“Aruetii,” he says before he can stop himself.

“No, not aruetti; these people weren’t traitors.” She sighs, taking another sip of caf. “Just different. Like, hunting akul is a big thing on Shilli,” she lazily points at her headdress as if it’ll mean anything to him, “and these people didn’t hunt akul. In fact, they worshipped them as near god-like figures.”

“They were wired differently,” he muses after a moment of thought, “They don’t follow the same unwritten social rules as everyone else.” He glances her way, “Like Tup?”

“Well, it’s a fairly obvious rule that clones shouldn’t kill Jedi, so yes.” She shrugs, “I’ve seen clones in bad mental states before, but they’ve never acted differently than their brothers. Even after Umbara,” Doom tenses, “they were damaged, but none were completely broken to the point that they didn’t behave like clones.”

He doesn’t understand where she’s going with any of this.

“What’s your point?”

“Well,” she sighs- she seems to be doing a lot of that, “Breakdowns and PTSD and all that may change people, but they don’t turn good soldiers into psychotic murderers. I think it’s something more biological.”

“Biological?” He repeats, “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all bred in the same facility with the same genetic coding. Abnormalities are sifted out before we’re sent out to the frontlines.”

“Unless the abnormality doesn’t develop until after you’re dispatched,” she proposes, “Maybe Tup was fine, and then something, I don’t know… malfunctioned?”

It isn’t a long shot.

Clones are artificially engineered. Granted, the scientists on Kamino are specialists in cloning, but they aren’t perfect at what they do. Ninety-nine is one example.

Maybe Tup was fine and normal, and then he became an…

Kriff.

Tano isn’t the aruetti, Tup is.

One of his brothers. 

“Yeah, maybe something in his head did malfunction,” Doom says quickly because it’s too hard to think about his vod betraying them.

She frowns, and he feels a light probing around his mind before the sensation abates. “Nothing like that. Tup isn’t a traitor.”

“How can you be sure?”

She sets down her mug, leaning against the wall once again. “I’m sure you know already, but when you’re around people long enough, you start to pick up little things. Their tells. Their favourites. Speech patterns, quirks, habits even they haven’t realized yet; it’s all there.”

“And?”

“And the closer you are to a person, the better you can predict what they’ll do.”

Suddenly, it dawns on him. “It’s that thing, right? The . . . Force-thing?”

“Sort of. Only Force-sensitives can form real Force-bonds, but I know Tup well enough to feel his thoughts and emotions as well as I can feel my own. He’s not a traitor.”

“You seem certain,” he says, “even after he just obviously murdered a Jedi.”

Her expression darkens, “I've been accused of treason too, Doom, and the evidence didn't support me either. I won’t subject Tup to the same fate. It’s not nice, having nobody believing in you.”

Something flickers in his chest; he thinks it might be sympathy.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Okay. Then what’s wrong with him?”

“Like I said before, this doesn’t feel like Tup,” she says, her blue eyes dimming, “Tup was always . . . warm. It’s . . . not easy to explain, but lately, there’s been this anomaly in his mind. He still feels like himself, at least on the surface, but there’s a pinprick of something strange if you dig deep enough. It’s not even entirely of his body, from what I can tell. All I know is that when I touch it-” she shivers. “It feels . . . cold.”

Because Doom didn’t have enough problems already.

“Fine,” He straightens. “We’re getting to the bottom of this. You and I, and we don’t tell the other Generals anything. If we’re wrong-”

“Wait, back up to the part where I agreed to look into this?”

“You mean to say you won’t?” 

A pause, and then she sighs.

“No. No, I will.”

“Good.” He takes a deep breath and musters up his courage. “I feel like there’s a lot more to this than there seems.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” she snorts, then sets down her cup. “I think there’s a lot we all don’t know.”

“Well, we’re figuring it out. For Tup, Tano.”

“For Tup,” for a brief moment, she smiles, but it disappears before her next breath, “Vode an, right?”

He nods, “Brothers all.”

Chapter Text

Gree wakes to whispers.

"We must be on alert,” General Unduli is murmuring to Commander Tano. “I fear we do not yet fully realize the extent of the Separatists' reach into the Republic command.”

“I’ve heard of something like this happening before,” the young Togruta whispers back. “Someone called . . . Slick?” Gree’s stomach seems to twist uncomfortably in his chest.

Traitors, all of them, he wants to spit, the back of his head still stinging from when Gunray knocked him out. A medical droid wanders over and begins to assess him for wounds. Scum.

“You have sustained a few injuries due to your excursion,” the droid says in a cool monotone. diverting his attention away from the two Jedi. “Including a minor concussion and relatively insignificant bruises. Avoid looking into bright light or socializing too much. You should be able to function normally with a few days of relaxation.”

The doctor drops some kind of pill into his hand, then wanders off, and Gree pushes himself to his feet unsteadily. A small headache begins to bud, probably from lack of his prescribed rest, but he stumbles his way to the Jedi anyway.

“General,” he nods to the older Jedi, then the younger one. “Commander.”

“Commander.” She parrots back at him, lips pulling back to reveal sharp canines. Species: Togruta. Widely believed to have venom stored glands behind their teeth, though this has been disputed by many scientists over the centuries. Of a mammalian class, descended from an unknown apex predator that used to roam the plains of Shili-

“Gree,” His General acknowledges him, dipping her head politely. “Ahsoka and I were merely discussing how best to deal with this unfortunate incident. Would you like to provide your own input?”

He shifts a little in his place, head beginning to feel light. “Yes, General. Might I suggest we contact the GAR Compound on Coruscant? The assassin and Argyus looked like they took a Republic ship to escape, and, assuming they haven’t already destroyed it, it should be able to be tracked by Command.” The young Padawan beside him brightens, whipping out a datapad from seemingly nowhere.

“It’s plausible,” she chirps, and something about her cheerfulness makes Gree take a small step back as if she’s a nuclear accident just waiting to occur.

“You and Padawan Tano will contact Command.” Unduli delegates, “I must speak to the Council and make them aware of the situation.”

The girl cocks her head, “Do you think Master Skywalker will be there, Master?”

The little cub misses her mentor.

“I doubt it, young one.” Unduli’s usually blunt tone breaks into something softer.

“Oh . . .”

Great, we made the kid sad-

“All due respect, General Unduli,” he interjects, partly to increase efficiency, but mostly because he doesn’t know how to deal with children. “But maybe Commander Tano should accompany you to the briefing? She should be getting more experience reporting to the Council instead of GAR Command.”

Unduli gives him a look, one he’s seen on the faces of other clone officers when they get extra men dumped on them.

Don’t make me look after her, the elder Jedi’s expression reads.

“I have an idea,” the little cub chirps, “How about Master Unduli and I speak to the Council, and then I go with Commander Gree to speak to Command? The med droid said the Commander needs his rest anyways, so everyone wins.”

Gree admires how she’s trying to find a compromise- she’s a people pleaser.

Still, they both have jobs to do and not a lot of time to complete them.

“Go with the General, Commander.” Suck it up, Unduli. “I’ll handle Command, and we’ll meet in the briefing room at 1400.”

Ahsoka snaps what he thinks is supposed to be a salute, “You got it, Commander.”

“Fine.” Unduli scowls (damn, he didn’t know she could do that), obviously not pleased but not willing to discuss the matter any further. “Come along, Ahsoka.”

The Padawan follows General Unduli obediently, then turns to give Gree another salute. “Bye! I’ll find you later!” 

“Yeah,” he mutters, resisting the urge to correct her form. “That’d be amazing.”

Right, he spins to the empty corridor, which way is the communications room?

The communications room, whilst essential to life aboard the ship, was never actually used very often. The bridge was just easier to access and had better quality equipment. Gree suspected their old comms hadn’t been touched since the ship had been built.

“This is Commander Gree of the 41st Elite Corps. GAR Command, do you copy?” He says into the small screen in front of him, though he feels stupid without a hologram to talk to. There’s static, and then the tell-tale crackle of another speaker getting on the line.

“This is GAR Command; we read you.” A voice identical to his own replies. The screen remains black. “State your business.”

“A Sith assassin has breached our security and captured our prisoner- Nute Gunray. She had assistance from a Senate Guard called Faro Argyus, and we believe they escaped on a Republic ship. Can you track it?”

There’s another crackle, and then a response. “Negative. We do not have a lock on their signature.” A pause. “Apologies, Commander.”

Gree sighs a little too loudly. “It’s fine. We got our hopes up. Commander Gree, signing off.”

“GAR Command, signing off.”

Gree leans back against a nearby wall and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing in his skull. Well, that was a waste of time, he scolds himself, brows furrowing. Better update the Jedi.

He enters the bridge when the Jedi Council is still on the holo, so he holds back. His head hurts like a motherkriffer, and the last thing he wants to do is report to Yoda and Skywalker about this mess.

The little cub’s stood next to Unduli, her head lowered as he catches the tail end of her Master’s words, “It’s okay, Snips. I know you did your best.”

Ahsoka stutters, “Master, I-”

“Troubling is the treachery of the Senate Guard, Captain Argyus.” Yoda says, cutting her off.

Gree frowns. He might not know much about how to raise children, but he has enough common sense to understand that when an impressionable kid is looking for support, you don’t rub in their failure or cut them off when they try to explain.

Betrayal in war . . . it’s not something easily recovered from.

“Gree,” he turns to the Commander of the bridge. “Heard you took a bit of a hit to the head.”

“It’s nothing,” he assures his vod, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Everyone in the room has had worse; there’s no point in getting fussed over because of a minor concussion.

“Shame that Gunray got away,” the Commander sighs, “Especially with the aid of Captain Argyus.” 

Gree hums in agreement, his attention diverted to Ahsoka and Unduli as they step away from the comms table, saying their farewells.

“Commander, let’s get underway.” Unduli says, walking over to them.

Gree keeps his eye on Ahsoka as his vod answers, “Yes, General.” The Commander turns to face the viewport, then addresses his men. “Ahead full.”

“GAR Command didn’t have any success with tracking the ship, sir.” He cuts in.

The Mirialan sighs. “Thank you, Commander. Let’s hope Master Fisto has better luck.”

Gree hopes so too.

As Unduli makes her way to the front of the bridge, Gree catches up with the Padawan before she leaves, “Hey! Kid!”

Ahsoka turns, her eyes a little too watery for his comfort, “Sorry, Gree; I forgot to say goodbye.”

Goodbye, he thinks to himself. Always about the goodbyes. Force forbid she goes anywhere without properly sending someone off- it would probably take her weeks to say farewell should she ever depart from the GAR.

“I was just going to say that you did good today.” He says, giving her a smile.

She breaks out into a grin, “Thanks, Gree.” Her expression falters slightly, “I just wish we didn’t lose Gunray.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder, “We all do. It wasn’t our fault though, it was Argyus’ fault.”

And his own, for not being able to hold the Captain off.

“You did good too,” She says as if she’s reading his thoughts. 

He forces a tight smile, taking his hand off her shoulder. “I hear you’re leaving.”

“Master Skywalker is rendezvousing with me.” She smiles slightly at the mention of her mentor. “I’m just headed to the hanger now- once I find it.”

“Let me walk you there.” He offers, just to be courteous. He doesn’t want to have reports coming to him of a lost Togruta wandering around the ship.

“Of course.” Ahsoka smiles brightly, “I enjoy your company.”

He doesn’t need to think about where he’s going as he leads the little cub through the many corridors of the Tranquility. The many routes have become second nature to him.

Gree’s so invested in letting his feet move without telling them where to go, that he doesn’t realise how quiet Ahsoka is beside him. All she’s done since she was assigned to the 41st is talk, talk, talk. 

Now, it’s as if she’s lost the ability to speak.

“Something on your mind?” He asks, the silence finally getting to him. He slows down so he matches her pace.

“I just don’t know why Argyus betrayed us.” She mutters, head lowered. “He was my friend.”

Gree nods, “He was a good Captain, too. It came as a shock to all of us.”

“But why?” She asks, tone bordering on whining.

Gree shrugs- he’ll never understand why someone would want to betray the Republic. “Money, I guess. I think he said Dooku was paying him out to deliver Gunray’s- and I quote- slimy carcass.”

Ahsoka shakes her head. “Must’ve been a lot of credits if Argyus called him that. Why would you bother saving someone who you don’t even like?”

Gree chuckles. “Beats me. Argyus said a clone would never understand. Said he wanted a life filled with more than empty servitude.”

“He should’ve gotten a new job if he didn’t want to be a Captain anymore; not betray the Republic.” Ahsoka huffs. “Force knows, out of all of us, he’s the only one who gets to choose his path in life.”

Gree keeps his mouth shut. The GAR is his life. He could never imagine being able to just . . . walk away.

“There was a traitor in the 501st, just before I joined.” She says, her voice low.

“Slick?” She glances up at him, eyes wide. “Commanders talk; Cody told us.”

“Oh.” She looks away. “I… had to get Master Skywalker to tell me.” 

He wishes he hadn’t opened his mouth.

“Slick wanted more than . . . this.” She gestures all around them, her voice echoing throughout the hall. The Tranquillity seems so much larger than before. “An existence with meaning; something to live for. He said . . . he said the Jedi had enslaved all of you.”

Gree frowns, “We don’t all think like that.”

“I know.” She gives him a quick, tight smile. “You’ve got to be one of the most loyal soldiers I’ve ever met, Commander.”

Pride blooms in his chest, “Thank you, sir.” She’ll never know how much that means to him.

“I thought you were dead when Master Unduli and I found you,” Ahsoka says, snapping Gree out of his thoughts. “He could’ve killed you. I shouldn’t have left my post.”

Gree frowns, resisting the urge to put a hand on her shoulder again. She’s a Jedi Padawan, not a shiny. “If you hadn’t left, the General would’ve been killed-”

“Don’t-” She rounds on him suddenly, jabbing her index finger into his chest plate with more ferocity than he was expecting, “you dare try and tell me your life is worth less or some other self-righteous bullshit. It’s so- ugh, you can’t even imagine-”

“Bic ni skana’din?” He offers a Mando’a expression, getting a frown in response. “Ticks you off?”

“Yeah,” she fumes, markings contrasting more against her ochre skin. “It just- it makes me feel guilty, I guess. When you think your life is worth any less than mine.”

He bites his tongue: her life is more important than his.

“How about this, then” he proposes, choosing his words carefully as he gently nudges her finger off his armour. “Fighting a Sith assassin was more imperative than helping take care of a paid-off Senate Guard. Better?”

She takes a deep breath, as if trying to calm herself down. “Yeah, but I still think I should’ve helped you. You told me yourself that I shouldn’t disobey orders and leave my post.”

“Was General Unduli angry?”

Her head snaps back up to him, “Huh?”

“Was the General angry that you disobeyed her orders and left your post?”

Her eye markings furrow, “Not really….”

“See?” He grins down at her, “You did the right thing, Ahsoka.”

“Master Unduli isn’t always right though.” She sighs, “Not every Jedi is omnificent.”

He stops in his tracks, trying not to laugh, “Do you mean omniscient?”

She frowns, “What’s the difference?”

“Omniscient is all knowing. Omnificent is unlimited powers of creation.”

Her eye markings rise a little, “Oh…”

“You are right about the Jedi not being omniscient though.” He says, starting to walk again. “Otherwise, General Unduli would’ve asked for your help from the start.”

She peers up at him, “Do you really think I’m helpful?”

He snorts, “Can an Alpha-3 Nimbus-class V-wing reach speeds of 1,450 kilometres per hour?” She pulls back slightly, confused. “Yes, kid, you’re helpful.”

She breaks into a grin that could fuel his motivation for a week. “Thanks, Gree.”

“Your Master should be very proud of you.” He tells her as they reach the doors to the hanger. “Here we are.”

“Cool,” She takes a step forward, then turns back to him. “Thank you. For the . . . encouragement.” Her smile is softer this time, almost gentle. “You don’t realize how much it means to me.”

She leaves before he can say anything back.

Traitors, left and right, he thinks bitterly, nursing a shot of some mystery liquor. And here I thought we had done the whole song and dance already.

His office is colder than he remembers, the slate grey of the walls and the blanket of dust that coats almost everything in the small cubicle giving off an eerie sort of feeling. A small radio is sat at the top left of his desk.

"We have just received confirmation that Jedi Padawan Barriss Offee was indeed the mastermind behind the Jedi Temple bombing, an act that cost almost . . .“ The news broadcaster drones on, and Gree tries his hardest to tune her out.

Commander Offee, he had once called the Mirialan. 

Friend.

He peers into his glass, his features reflected back to him in the blue liquid. If he tilts his head just right, it almost seems as if he’s trapped behind an azure screen.

He downs it all in one gulp.

“-and we have also learned that former- that’s right folks, former- Jedi Commander Ahsoka Tano has left the Order, though she has been given the chance to return. More on this at-”

The alcohol burns its way down Gree’s throat, leaving a line of fire trailing down his body. His eyes begin to water- from the aftertaste or from his unwelcome emotions, he isn’t quite sure.

He switches the radio off and sets down his shot.

“Guess you really were meant for better things, little cub.”

Chapter Text

Senate meetings are, in Neyo’s opinion, a waste of time.

Sure, he’s not dodging blaster bolts on a battlefield or stuck training the new shinies, but it’s still a chore, even if he can spend the first half of the meeting examining the lace bordering Senator Amidala’s new dress. 

When Ponds died and Neyo took on the Commander rank, he did not think he would be spending his leave in a conference room full of snobby politicians- not including the Nabooian woman, of course.

Neyo’s not a man of high maintenance, but all clones need some sort of mental stimulation, and listening to the bickering politicians is simply not entertaining enough (as well as leaving room for other, more . . . painful thoughts).

The only other clone in the room is Commander Fox, who actually seems to be participating in the meeting. Unfortunately, he and Fox haven’t been on the best of terms lately, so making conversation with him is hopeless.

It’s not like they have their helmets on to chat anyways.

Neyo lets out an internal sigh, then begins to try and pay attention to the Senators he’s supposed to be guarding.

“Why can you not see it?” Senator Chuchi is practically spitting at Burtoni. “We need to stop letting large corporations monopolize necessary products like seeds and fertilizers, and take this topic in front of the full Senate! This behaviour is highly illegal, and yet the practice has practically thrived under Chancellor Palpatine’s administra-“

“Senator Chuchi, are you proposing the notion that Chancellor Palpatine is somehow to blame for the decline of farmer income and the rise of genetically modified seeds?” Senator Aang interrupts, and Neyo tries ridiculously hard not to fidget. Fox is practically fuming from across the room, as if he’s half ready to commit homicide over a debate.

The Pantoran glares, preparing to fire a retort back, but Senator Amidala motions for her to sit and rises from her chair. “Senator Aang, no one is implying that the Chancellor is somehow involved in these grand schemes, but what Riyo says is true. Farmers located in the Outer Rim, and even on planets like Naboo or Alderaan-“

“Forget about the farmers; everyone with sense knows Pantora’s main trade is crop! Let the corporations have the money; what we really need to focus on is the blatant accusing of Republic leaders-“

The shouting grows louder and louder until Neyo’s blood begins running cold and his fingers twitch as if to pull a non-existent trigger-

Everyone abruptly quietens and turns as the doors slide open with a sharp hiss, and Neyo nearly grabs his blaster until he sees who is so rudely interrupting.

Force, kill me now, he thinks as the self-absorbed Togruta Padawan flounders into the room. Out of everyone who could’ve attended this meeting, Skywalker’s annoying student has to turn up.

He watches with disdain as her face lights up, eyes focused on the Nabooian Senator. “Pad- I mean, Senator Amidala!”

“Ahsoka,” the Senator responds, a soft smile gracing her features, though there is an underlying tone of confusion. If it were Neyo, he wouldn't have humoured her like this in a room full of politicians, but he’s just a clone, so what does he know? “What do you need?”

“Master Sky-“ She stops herself mid-way through her sentence, lekku flushing a deep shade of blue as she realizes the room’s atmosphere. Several older men are glaring at her, whilst Mothma and Organa just look amused. Chuchi exchanges a worried glance with Fox (what is up with those two?) before flashing a reassuring smile in Ahsoka’s direction. “Er, a Jedi Knight requires your . . . assistance. With a problem.”

What kind of problem? Neyo wants to ask, the implications behind her words itching at the back of his mind.

“Well,” Amidala’s features are now skewed with something that falls between loving and thoroughly annoyed, though Neyo is pretty sure the annoyance is directed towards whichever Jedi Knight needs her help rather than the situation at hand, “Can it wait?”

“Not really.” Ahsoka scans the room, “It’s more important than this.”

Neyo feels his eyebrows shoot upwards. Did she just-

Organa’s laughter suddenly cackles through the room like thunder, and the Senator smacks his hand on the table, “You’re well-humoured, Padawan Tano. Senator Amidala, you may be excused if you are needed elsewhere.”

The Nabooian nods, graciously standing whilst a light rush of colour reaches her cheeks, courtesy of the brash, tiny Jedi who is acting like this Senate meeting is some sort of unnecessary social.

Well, it is to Neyo, but he won’t say it out loud like Ahsoka did.

He wonders what’s changed her from a somewhat reserved- if snarky- Padawan into a menacing little git who has an ego several times larger than her own body, but then he remembers the events of the past week.

Geonosis.

Word around the barracks says Ahsoka and Luminara’s student- Offee, or something like that- were responsible for bringing the droid factory down on that dustball.

The rumours were exaggerated, of course. Some say the Padawans were trapped under the collapsed structure for nearly an hour, but Neyo highly doubts that. They were probably buried for no more than five minutes until their Masters got the rubble lifted.

Whatever happened, the attention on Ahsoka’s actions must be giving her a confidence boost. Unneeded, in Neyo’s opinion. She was cocky enough before she made it on the front page of the HoloNet.

Amidala puts a hand on the Togruta’s shoulder as she passes, “Maybe you can fill in for me, Ahsoka. This may seem boring to you, but it is an important meeting.”

Ahsoka opens her mouth to protest- and Neyo dares her to argue with the Senator- but Amidala is already at the door, “You can leave the notes on my desk at the end of the day.” She walks out, and Ahsoka is left standing uncomfortably in the middle of the room, Senators practically leering at her from every direction.

She looks about ready to curl in on herself from embarrassment, but to her credit, she straightens her back instead, taking up a position close to Fox.

The Commander gives her a fond sort of look, one almost similar to that of an older brother caring for an irresponsible sister, before turning his attention back towards the meeting- and, Neyo notes, back to Chuchi.

Neyo stares.

Fox has feelings?

Fox has sibling relationships?

Fox has feelings and siblings relationships with Ahsoka?

He lets out an undignified snort, which, thankfully, goes unnoticed in a room full of bickering Senators.

Well, almost unnoticed.

Across the room, Ahsoka twitches just slightly, a little movement no one really notices but Fox and Neyo. Soldiers know soldiers, and tiny signals could mean the difference between life and death in a war zone.

A brief flash of panic courses through his veins before he realizes she was simply reacting to his behaviour, not a hidden bomb or unseen assassin. Right, Neyo reminds himself, the initial survive-flee-protect instinct coded into his human nature fading away, Gree’s voice replacing it- Togruta have better hearing than we do, brother.

Fox returns his gaze to the meeting, but Neyo keeps a close watch on the young Togruta. After all, he realizes, she’s basically an alarm system. If anything dangerous is in the area, she’d hear it before any of them.

The Padawan, however, takes notice of this, and begins to gaze right back, a challenge glimmering in her eyes. What is it? She seems to be daring him, taunting. What do you think I know?

He scowls, not blinking. Two can play that game, you obnoxious child.

They get locked in a stalemate, both sides just as stubborn as the other and neither willing to concede. To any outsider paying attention, they might have laughed at the hilarity of the situation; a fully-grown soldier and a fourteen-year-old space wizard caught in a staring contest like they aren’t in the middle of an extremely important Senate meeting.

The conversation drones on around them, but it may as well be white noise for all Neyo cares. He’s never been one to let something go, and he isn’t about to look away from Ahsoka’s predatory glare.

The corner of her lips tug up slightly, though somewhat strangely; she’s getting a kick out of this.

Resting his fist on the table, Neyo pushes down so his knuckles click. It goes unnoticed by the other occupants of the room, but Ahsoka’s lekku twitch from the sound.

She raises a white eye-marking in question, her eyes not leaving his as she silently asks- is that supposed to be threatening?

Yes, he wants to retort, but that would be an indication of weakness, and he’s not about to give her the satisfaction. He stares harder.

When he feels something prodding at the side of his head, Neyo scowls- sneaky little thing. Does she know that clones are trained to defend themselves against those type of attacks? What’s she trying to do, muddle his thoughts around?

Ahsoka furrows her eye-markings, obviously caught off guard by the resistance. She stops prodding, and her mouth parts in a frustrated sigh. Neyo smirks inwardly- that’s what you get, little one.

“Padawan Tano,” Organa starts, and for a moment, Neyo thinks she’s about to look away.

The rat only tilts her head towards the Senator, keeping her eyes on Neyo, “Yes, Senator?” Her tone is polite, respectful, gentle- but Neyo knows that it’s all an act.

The 501st boys like to boast about their kind-hearted and friendly Jedi Commander, but from what Neyo’s seen, the brat has a perfect mask to hide her true nature behind. 

Is he the only one who really knows how annoying and self-centred she is?

“You were on Geonosis, correct?” Organa continues, not commenting on how rude it is that Ahsoka’s not making eye contact with him.

“Yes.” Ahsoka replies, and Neyo’s pissed she doesn’t add a polite ‘Senator’ or ‘Sir’ to the end. All Jedi like to think they’re on top of the universe, but Ahsoka likes to show that obnoxious behaviour- she flaunts her status.

“It was rumoured that you and Padawan Offee were responsible for bringing the droid factory down.” Neyo can hear from Organa’s tone how impressed the man is, making him scoff. “I understand that you were trapped underneath the rubble for quite some time.”

“Fifteen minutes, give or take.” Tano replies, and Neyo’s a bit shocked to hear the lack of self-loathing in her tone. Instead, there’s something else there he can’t quite identify- nervousness, or . . . skittishness? “I was able to rewire a broken commlink to give General Skywalker our location, and he got us out.”

Calling your Master by his military title doesn’t make you look more like a soldier, kid.

“You must’ve been quite scared, young one.” Motham says, her voice soft as if she’s speaking to a youngling. “It was a good thing Commander Offee was with you. She’s an experienced Jedi.”

So, Ahsoka is Padawan whilst Offee is granted her correct military rank. Interesting. Neyo wonders if these Senators know which Jedi is always being talked about in the barracks, and which one is just a shadow of the detached General Unduli.

A flicker of annoyance passes over Ahsoka’s face, as well as something he can’t quite identify, and even Neyo frowns. He doesn’t like the Togruta brat, but he knows an experience like that wouldn’t shake her (or so he thinks), and she definitely didn’t need another Padawan to help her.

He’s only met Offee once, and his general impression of General Luminara’s student was that she acts far above everyone else, and yet pretends to be humble. In some ways, her personality is more annoying than Ahsoka’s, even if she is more reserved.

“If I may interrupt,” everyone- besides Neyo and Ahsoka- turn to Fox, “According to the report, Commander Tano was the one who suggested using the super tank to destroy the reactor, and she knew what the consequences would be.”

Neyo’s surprised. The Coruscant Guard Commander is standing up for the little rat?

He watches Ahsoka’s face, seeing a hint of appreciation spread across her features, and some of the tension leaves her shoulders.He clears his throat, not breaking eye contact with her as the attention of the group is drawn to him, “I’ve heard from a reliable source that Commander Offee was the one fearing their situation. Commander Tano not only managed to establish contact with the General, but she also reassured her fellow Padawan that they would run out of air long before they starved.”

Ahsoka’s lips part in both minor offence and shock. Neyo returns her gaze with an emotionless expression whilst the politicians murmur amongst themselves. 

“How did you know?” Ahsoka mouths to him.

He shrugs, tapping the side of his head. She rolls her eyes- somehow not breaking eye contact with him.

Believe it or not, Neyo sometimes listens to Gree.

The meeting ends on a rather boring note after the whole Geonosis discussion- which was definitely the most intriguing part- and Ahsoka and Neyo have long since abandoned their little staring contest. The Senators file out of the room, and Neyo sees Chuchi lay a comforting hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder before shifting closer to Fox.

The young Togruta almost leaves too, but Neyo grabs her arm before she can step a foot out the door. “What was that?” He asks, careful to keep his voice at a low volume and his posture stoic.

She stiffens, not meeting his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Tano,” he hisses. “Your act. The unusual cockiness, the glaring- you’re afraid of something, I know it.” Silence falls over the two, and the Padawan begins to tremble from under his grip.

So, he was right. Soldiers can read each other.

“I don’t follow,” she seems to force out, finally, voice wavering unsteadily. “You’re confused.”

“You know I’m not.” He leans in closer, examining her features for any signs of fear. Her eyes are wild, almost panicked. It’s almost poetic; she’s a hunter, and yet she has never looked so much like prey.

There is quiet again for one, two, three beats, before she practically rips her arm from out of his hand and punches him square in the nose, the force behind the blow causing him to stumble backwards, blood already dripping onto his lips.

“Ow! What the absolute fu-“

She bolts out before he can finish his sentence, the erratic thumps of her pulse still burned into his fingers. What is-

His eyes widen, and the realization hits him all at once. He’s seen this before; hell, he’s felt it too.

Something changed on Geonosis.

Something big.

It takes a while for him to hunt her down, but he eventually finds her tucked away in a secluded corner of the Senate building, her breathing unsteady and broken sobs shaking her small form.

His heart clenches painfully at that. He still remembers the beginning of the war, when it was him who was pushed up against dingy walls and covered in the darkness of a cabinet or storage closet, crying so hard his eyes could barely open the next day.

He doesn’t announce his presence, just sits beside her until her breaths even out and her tears stop falling. It takes about an hour, maybe two, but Neyo isn’t nearly cruel enough to leave a child alone with only her trauma for company.

“What happened, out there?” He asks finally, and it’s almost too long before she answers, voice hoarse and so soft he can barely hear. All traces of the cocky, arrogant kid he had faced down in the Senate meeting are gone, wiped from the galaxy like it was never there in the first place.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Not happening today, kiddo.

“Bottling up pain only makes it come back ten times harder.” He waits for her response, and this time, she’s even quieter.

“I almost died.” He knows this, but motions for her to continue. “I was ready, so ready to die. Barriss- we were both so weak, I could barely feel her in the Force. It was scary, being trapped under there for so long.” She takes a small, shuddering breath. “And-“ She chokes.

“And that’s so fucked up.” The words fall from her tongue almost easily, and he finds himself slightly taken aback by her language. She begins to spiral out of control- days, maybe weeks of stopped up trauma flooding out of her mouth and spilling into the air like the tsunamis that would shake the cloning factories every so often on Kamino.

“I mean, I’m a kid! I’m fucking fourteen, and I was ready to blow myself to kingdom come for a war that doesn’t even mean a single fucking thing!” She‘s angry, driven to the very edge of sanity. “Force damn it all- I’m not even old enough to drink, and I’ve held dying men in my arms! I’ve watched entire companies be obliterated, fortresses be knocked over like figurines, my brothers be blown apart like rag dolls- hell, I’ve killed people!”

She glances over to Neyo with a frenzied look in her eyes, and he feels something twist painfully inside him.

For one, excruciating moment, she is completely silent. Then, her voice comes again, and he has to strain to hear her. “I’ve killed friends.” 

His heartbeat stutters in his chest, and his very first mercy kills flashes through his head-

The red earth shifts beneath his feet, and heat festers throughout the air- blood coats his fingertips and Neyo screams himself hoarse, a form identical to his own lying limp in his arms. There are two wounds located on the corpse’s body- one sloppy shot through his side, and one clean, intentional hole through the forehead.

One done through cold-blood, one done out of love.

Neyo decides, in that moment, that love hurts worse.

“That sucks,” he hears himself croak, voice hoarse and broken. Ahsoka says nothing, only looks down at her fingers and curls them into fists. She unclenches them quickly, and all her energy seems to be sucked out of her in one quick motion. She slumps against the wall.

“Yeah.”

They spend the next three hours with their faces tilted to the heavens, and hell raging through their heads.

A few politicians pass by, but Ahsoka and Neyo don’t try to explain themselves. The politicians here would never understand, even if they cared enough to ask.

Ahsoka takes him back to the barracks. He doesn’t comment on her poor use of indicators, and she doesn’t flip other speeders off along the journey.

They’re silent- two soldiers without a care in the universe for the war they’re fighting, finding comfort in each other’s company.

They aren’t friends. In fact, they aren’t even particularly friendly.

It’s more . . . understanding, Neyo guesses. They have something in common, now.

Of course, it still hurts. He suspects it will always hurt, in some way. Maybe his mind will never fully heal, maybe his wounds will never truly close, but . . .

But it’s better now. Maybe not good just yet, maybe not remotely healthy in any way, but . . . better.

The weight of the galaxy feels just a little lighter when it’s spread across two sets of shoulders.

“Here we are, Neyo’ika.” She says, pulling the speeder up to the barracks and scraping the paint against the curb. He needs to get her license revoked someday- preferably before one of them dies on the field.

“Don’t call me that.” He grumbles, climbing out, “Cheers for the ride.”

Ahsoka says nothing as he walks away. There’s a lot on his mind, so her lack of a goodbye doesn’t bother him.

“Hey!” 

He glances over his shoulder, “What?”

Ahsoka flashes a tight smile as she puts the speeder in gear, revving it loudly, “Thanks.”

His heart twists- maybe painfully, maybe not, he’s not quite sure- but the soft curve his lips turn up to feels easier than before.

“Any time.”

Chapter Text

The dark walls of the compound are suffocating, to say the least. 

Ponds can tell this is the internment camp they’ve been looking for. There are bars on every door and window, ray shields surrounding the broken-down compound, and the stench . . .

Force, it’s awful.

The filters in his helmet are supposed to filter out toxic gases and the heaviest pollution in the galaxy, and yet the smell of rotting flesh, urine, vomit, and faeces is making him gag. His stomach tightens as a draft moves towards them, pushing the smell further up his nose.

He spares a glance at his partner to see she’s not faring any better.

Without a helmet, Ahsoka has resorted to covering her nose with the sleeve of her cloak, which he doubts smells any better, given they’ve been on this planet for Force-knows-how-long without proper sanitation supplies.

“I thought internment camps were supposed to have standards,” Ahsoka mutters, her voice muffled by the fabric.

Ponds snorts, which is a mistake because he just inhales more of the vile stench. “The Seps don’t care for standards when it comes to war prisoners, Tooka. I would know.”

He feels Ahsoka look at him, but he keeps on staring straight ahead. Being in a Separatist compound brings back a lot of memories, none of them pleasant by any means.

“I’ll be glad to get out of here,” Ahsoka says after the quiet stretches for too long, fidgeting at the lack of noise. Ponds is surprised she can stand this hellish place. The eerie silence, the debris . . . this is certainly not a job for the faint of heart.

Why Windu decided to send the Jedi Padawan along on Ponds’ scouting mission to search an abandoned prisoner of war camp for survivors is beyond him. 

They walk on for a little longer, careful not to make too much noise. They’ll have to enter the cells soon, but for now, Ponds is more than happy to stick with the more tolerable (though not by much) halls.

“What’s that?” Ahsoka points to a courtyard where the southern wall is adorned with scorch marks.

Ready-

Ponds swallows hard, fighting the urge to grab the kid and bolt out of there before it seems too similar to his own experience.

Take aim-

“That’s where they do the executions.”

Fire.

“Oh.” The Togruta frowns, “I thought they hung people.”

He shakes his head, “Firing squad is far more efficient.”

They follow the building’s many twists and turns. Every corridor is dark, illuminated only by the flashlight on Ponds’ helmet and the green glow of Ahsoka’s lightsaber. Ponds’ breaths become shallower the deeper they walk.

Eventually, Ahsoka stops in front of a door, cocking her head and staring intently for a few tense moments. “Here,” she says after a few seconds pass.

Ponds doesn’t bother asking how she knows.

They don’t know the codes to open the door, nor do they have the time to find out, so the Padawan simply gathers her hands closer to her body and pushes, the sheet of metal standing in their way crumpling in on itself and falling down with a loud clang. Ponds winces.

The smell inside the cell forces Ponds to turn away, eyes burning- how is the smell so bad that his eyes burn? Beside him, Ahsoka clears her throat, and he hears her take a steadying breath- preparing herself for what’s to come, most likely, or perhaps just so she doesn’t have to breathe the foul air for too long.

“Wait,” he holds a hand in front of her before she can take a step. He taps the side of his bucket twice, the wordless command brightening his flashlight, pointing it in the direction of the cell. There’s no way he’s letting her walk inside without knowing what’s inside.

The floor of the cell reflects the light, and Ponds winces when he realises it’s slick with bodily fluids. On the far wall, chains droop from a small metal ring, the metallic ropes clinking together in a sickening melody with every shuddering breath that the prisoner takes.

The man is Nautolan, probably around Ponds’ perceived age. He’s sitting- well, slumping- against the wall, his breaths so faint Ponds would’ve thought he was dead if not for the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. 

“Fucking hell,” Ahsoka mutters.

Ponds knows the amphibious species is capable of surviving in extreme conditions, and the prisoner proves that. This camp has been abandoned for three weeks, and judging by the state of this cell, the prisoner hasn’t left- or even moved, for that matter.

Once again, Ponds finds himself questioning how much crueller the galaxy can get.

POW camps aren’t the problem (kind of). The problem is when the guards abandon camps without either taking the prisoners or releasing them back to their people.

Ahsoka darts towards the man before Ponds can stop her, dropping to her knees. She carefully inserts the needle of a hypo into the Nautolan’s neck, so fast that the clone didn’t even see her open the med-pack. 

She casts a worried glance at his tentacles, and Ponds wonders if her anatomy’s close enough to his that she can accurately pinpoint his physical state.

Probably not, Gree would snap his neck if he tried asking that.

The man doesn’t react to the hypo. His eyelids don’t even twitch, which is never a good sign. Ponds is no medics, but even he knows that no response to stimuli is never good news.

“We need to get him back to base,” the young Togruta is saying as she cuts through his chains with her lightsaber. Ponds is less rash than she is- choosing to slowly walk closer to the prisoner. “There’s not much we can do; he needs to see Coric.”

“What about the Force-healing thing?” He asks, remembering a foggy memory of Windu’s eyes tightly closed as he applied pressure to the gaping hole in Ponds’ stomach. Whatever his General did, it saved his life, and he wonders if Ahsoka is capable of the same powers.

She shakes her head, somewhat guiltily, “I . . . was never good at that.” There’s a crack in her confidence that wasn’t there before.

He kneels beside the Nautolan, reaching out with a steady hand to take the man’s pulse. It’s faint, but there; the only signal of life in this compound besides him and the Togruta.

“Yeah… yeah, let’s get him out of here.” He tries to ignore the knot tightening in his stomach as he starts pulling the man upright. He’s nothing but skin and bones, but Ponds’ knees nearly buckle from the unexpected weight.

Bracing himself to hit the floor with the man in tow, Ponds clenches his eyes, only for something to stop them from toppling over.

“Force, he’s heavy,” Ahsoka mutters from beneath them, shifting so the Nautolan is hanging in between them, “And he stinks of fish.”

“And he can probably hear you.” He chastises the youngling lightly, trying to take as much of the prisoner’s weight as possible so Ahsoka’s spine isn’t crushed.

They half-carry, half-drag the prisoner out of his cell, leaving the broken chains and used hypo behind. It’s not like anyone’s going to come and track them down anyway.

They only make it a couple of steps from the cell before Ahsoka stops them in their tracks, a whispered, “Fuck.” setting Ponds on high alert.

“What is it?”

“We can’t go out there.”

He frowns, glancing at the Nautolan man currently being towed between them. “We don’t have much of a choice, Tooka.” She gives him a withering glare, then sighs.

“He’ll never survive if we leave this compound.” She closes her eyes, and the frustrated breath she huffs comes out as fog- since when did it get so cold? “This place is rigged.”

“Rigged?” He repeats in a hiss, a sudden rush adrenaline surging through his system. “Rigged how?”

“I… I don’t know,” her shoulders shudder, and Ponds subconsciously takes more of the Nautolan’s weight, “I feel heat- like fire. And explosions.” Now I get why Windu sent her along for this one.

He unholsters his blaster, flipping the safety off in an instant, “Any droids?”

Her eye-markings furrow, “I can’t see any.”

“Booby trap, then,” he concluded, exhaling slowly. It’s funny how a bit of stress can make him forget about the stench for a little bit. “That… complicates things.”

“It does.” Between them, the Nautolan lets out a soft whimper, “And our friend here seems to be waking up.”

“Can you sense your way through?” He asks, wondering if her Jedi magic is advanced enough. He heard that Skywalker once pushed his men away with the Force seconds before a landmine was set off.

Foresight, he thinks Windu calls it.

Ahsoka opens her eyes, managing a smile, “There’s a reason they’re called booby traps, Ponds.”

He grunts in a way that reminds him of Neyo. “This guy doesn’t have long, Ahsoka.”

Not long enough for them to tiptoe through this entire compound to get out. Coric’s a good medic, but he can’t do anything with a dead body.

“We could bolt?” She proposes, and Ponds remembers painfully how young she really is. 

“Not with him.” He jerks his head towards the Nautolan hung between them. He furrows his brow, trying to think, think, think- “Oh Force, I’m a di’kut. We have to find the medbay.”

“Medbay?”

“For prisoners- they should have one here.” He clears up, blinking thrice to activate the map of the compound inside his helmet. “Medbays are safe zones; planting explosives in them is a war crime in over two million systems.”

“I’ve never understood war crimes- what’s the point in having them if they’re broken every other week?” Ahsoka shakes her head, coming out of her thoughts before Ponds can verbally agree with her, “What if the Separatists don’t follow that particular rule?”

He shoulders the quickly stirring Nautolan once more. “You got a better idea?” She groans, tilting her head back.

“Where is the damn thing?”

“Two lefts and a right.”

Another groan. “Let’s get going.”

It takes them a surprisingly long time to reach the medbay, but that’s probably because the haunting feeling of not right, turn around keeps whispering in the back of his mind, and the Nautolan seems to get heavier with every step towards their destination.

The prisoner is getting weaker by the minute, he knows. Ponds suspects if they’d gotten to his cell just a couple hours later, he might’ve already passed.

“Why’s this guy important anyway?” Ahsoka grunts out as the medbay door comes into sight. “I get that we want to rescue as many people as possible, but doesn’t this mission seem like something the Republic wouldn’t waste its time on?”

Ponds shrugs. “To be honest, I really don’t know. His files are classified; I doubt even the Jedi could get access to them.” They stop in front of the doorway, and Ahsoka slips out from under the Nautolan, leaving Ponds to shoulder the man’s weight all by himself.

“That’s a bit suspicious, don’t you think?” She pulls his hands close to her chest once more, then pushes down the door. He wonders how much concentration it takes her to complete that feat. According to Windu, Ahsoka is strong with the Force- whatever that means to a clone.

She helps lug the prisoner inside as Ponds answers, “Whether his files are classified or not, he’s still a sentient being in an abandoned prisoner of war camp.” He looks at the Nautolan through the side of his visor, “It’s our job as peacekeepers to protect people like him.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to leave him, Commander.” She frowns, then pauses, “I’ve never heard a clone call himself a peacekeeper before.”

He tenses, “I don’t like to think of myself as nothing more than a killing machine.” Then, he steps into the medbay, pulling the prisoner behind him.

It’s a basic facility, equipped only with the necessities to keep a sentient being alive. Surprisingly, the circuits are still intact, so it’s just as brightly lit as a Republic medbay, except some of the lights are flickering and there’s a certain metallic smell that certainly isn’t blood lingering in the air.

Besides two cots and a wall of cabinets, it’s pretty much deserted of all equipment. Ponds guesses the droids tried to make it look as abandoned as possible, which explains the secondary scent of bleach which makes his eyes burn.

“Lay him down on a gurney.” The Tooka instructs him, suddenly all business, “I’ll see if there are any medical supplies we can use.”

“We shouldn’t stay long.” He says, hefting the Nautolan onto the nearest cot. The man lets out a pained groan, black eyes half-lidded. Ponds takes the man’s hand, gives it a light squeeze. “How are we gonna get out of here?”

“With a brilliant plan that I haven’t come up with yet.” Ahsoka turns from a cabinet she’s scouring through, tossing him a wink.

Ponds frowns, absentmindedly pressing two fingers to their friend’s wrist to confirm he’s still with them. Ahsoka’s confidence unsettles him- she has the naïveté of a child and the arrogance of a Jedi, seemingly still believing the age-old (and false) tale of omniscience the Order seems to wear as armour instead of actual plastiod when it comes to battle.

If he’s honest, she reminds him a lot of Windu, or at least Windu when Ponds first met him. She carries a cocky, careless air about her, like the galaxy rests on her every whim and fate itself will twist in her favour should the story grow too tragic.

It’s stupid, and tiring, and annoying.

“Here we go.” Ahsoka dumps an armful worth of medical supplies on the edge of the gurney. “There’s got to be something that can help.”

Optimism, Ponds notes. It’s not a bad quality to have, especially during a war, but there’s nothing a clone hates more than false hope.

“I doubt much of it can be used on Nautolans.” Ponds sighs, running a hand through the supplies. She managed to find bacta patches, some pouches of fortified energy gels, and some rolls of bandages which have obviously been used already.

He picks up one of the energy pouches, tearing it open, “Try to find some water, Tooka. Clean, if possible.”

“Yes, sir,” she snaps a sloppy salute, already running across the medbay to where a dripping faucet sits. 

Ponds scans the Nautolan, making a quick decision, “Fill a bucket as well.” The man’s covered in his own filth- and Ponds has grown tired of having to turn his head away to breathe properly.

Ahsoka’s silent as she cleans the man. Ponds is half-tempted to give her another task- granting the prisoner some privacy whilst he’s nude on a gurney- but another part of him wants her to witness such vulnerability. Not for the man’s dignity, but for her own privilege.

Jedi are seen as the leaders of the Republic in this war. They’re in the briefing rooms and on the front lines. What Ponds wants to know is what right does Ahsoka- a teenager with magic hands- has to lead her men into the heat of battle. How can they trust her with their lives when she’s barely trained to be there?

This has only fuelled Ahsoka’s self-worth to become warped. Jedi are supposed to be humble creatures, and now, they’ve become so modest about their abilities that nobody questions their right to be here.

They aren’t expected to carry out the more unsettling aspects of combat. Ponds has never seen Windu collecting the dead men off fields which have become swamps of mud and blood. He’s never seen Windu cradle a brother ridden with nightmares. Heck, he’s barely seen his Jedi touch a wounded man before, though Ponds himself has been an exception from time to time.

Maybe he can make sure Ahsoka doesn’t pick up this bad habit of being so un-human that she doesn’t feel a need to make an effort in places which don’t have the same excitement as a battlefield or civilisation of a strategy meeting.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” Ahsoka asks, breaking the silence as she wrings out the cloth he’s using, the water turning a darker shade of murky scarlet.

“A brother and I spent a week in a POW camp after Geonosis.” Ponds replies, taking the rag and wiping down the Nautolan’s legs. Thankfully, they aren’t half as severely damaged as his tentacles. “Good hygiene can keep you alive in these places.” 

He pauses, shrugs. “Well, I guess it was only good enough to keep one of us alive.” The next time he cleans the man’s shin, his hand is shaking.

For a moment, Ahsoka says nothing, and then a blurred orange hand reaches out for the rag, “Want me to take over?”

Ponds blinks rapidly, not lifting his head as he shakes it, “I’ve got it-”

He’s cut off by the definite sound of a blast door being pried open. His head snaps upright, one hand aggressively moving to rest on his blaster whilst Ahsoka puts a hand over the semi-conscious prisoner’s mouth.

South door, she signs to him.

Ponds nods, trusting the Togruta’s hearing. They entered via the north side, so hopefully, whichever beings are forcing their way inside the compound don’t know they’re here. Yet.

Scout out the intruders, he signs back, taking the lead on this one. After all, he’s the one with the experience of these hellholes, Mind the booby trap.

Keep him alive, Ahsoka replies, releasing her hand from the Nautolan’s mouth and darting for the door- her movements silent. Ponds guesses that’s a benefit of being a Jedi with excellent spatial awareness. Clones are trained for stealth, but plastoid is never quiet, and there’s always one buffoon who forgets to mute his audio.

Ponds turns back to his patient, suppressing a sigh. His medical training is basic, and he doubts the man will walk out of here on his own feet, but he can at least make him more comfortable.

Don’t think like that, he chides himself, this man isn’t going to die here if he can help it. He applies a few bacta patches to the Nautolan’s tentacles, trying to remember everything Monnk’s ever told him about the species. 

The tentacles. Save the tentacles. He chides himself, and if the man weren’t currently in the process of dying, Ponds might’ve laughed at the absurdity of the thought. He tries elevating them- isn’t there something about blood flow? Fuck if he knows; maybe he should’ve taken those extra anatomy courses Gree had once tried talking him into-

Focus, di’kut. He begins cleaning around the prisoner’s gills- surely that’s good, right? The Nautolan moans pitifully underneath him, the alcohol probably stinging at sensitive tissues and barely closed wounds. It’s a wonder they’re not infected, honestly; Ponds doesn’t know what he’d do if he had found swollen skin instead of scarred flesh.

The man blinks, his dark eyes clouded with fever. With the bodily fluids washed down the drain, Ponds risks taking off his helmet. He knows how it feels to wake up somewhere unfamiliar and be surrounded by masked faces.

“You’ve got to stay quiet.” He says lowly, “We’re not out of the compound yet.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” the man slurs, and Ponds bites back a smile at how mildly frustrated he sounds considering the circumstances. “That kid sure can talk.”

Ponds snorts- too loudly to be safe, “She’s got good intentions.”

A ghost of a smile flickers across the Nautolan’s face, “I don’t know why you came here. I was hours away from dying, and that blasted hypo gave me more time.” He pouts, “The Republic’s always trying to be the fucking heroes.”

Ponds’ lips flatten into a line. It’s true what he’s saying. The Republic had no purpose scouring through this compound- it’s not like there were any Jedi here, and if there were clones, they would just accept that as extra casualties.

“How long until Tooka comes back?”

“Not long.” Ponds replies, feeling a blush reach his cheeks as he realises that the war prisoner has caught onto the nickname he’s subconsciously given to Ahsoka. 

“Long enough for you to inject me with a shot of promethazine?” At Ponds’ frown, the man explains, “It’s poisonous to Nautolans, painless and fast-acting. She won’t even know- you’ll just say I was too dehydrated or some shit.”

“I’m not doing that.” Ponds shakes his head, “My mission was to find survivors and bring them to our Republic base- not euthanize them.”

He knows he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he killed this prisoner- even if it was done out of mercy. Also, he dreads the look on Ahsoka’s face as he bantha-shits his way through the man’s death. She would be crushed.

Speaking of the kid- where the hell is she?

“You clones with your orders, eh?” The Nautolan flashes his teeth, no longer a brilliant white like General Fisto’s, but now a dark green from weeks without proper oral hygiene. “How come you got dumped with the kid instead of being sent with your brothers?” 

“Commander Tano’s a capable soldier.” Ponds jumps to her defence. He may think of her as a kid, but the way the Nautolan says the word makes it sound like she’s some sort of runt. “General Windu thought she was the most suitable person to accompany me here.”

“Well, you shouldn’t always listen to us Generals.” Ponds’ eyes widen- this guy’s a General? “The promethazine, if you please, trooper.”

It’s an order this time, not a question.

Ponds is a good soldier, but is he really willing to kill this man, even at his own request?

He shakingly takes a step towards a medicine cabinet, about to open it, before-

“Ponds!” He whips his head around to the door, where Ahsoka is slumped against the empty frame, chest heaving, and the colour drained from her face. “We have to go. Now.”

“But-“ He glances at the prisoner. 

“What part of ‘now’ do you not understand, Commander?” She snaps, pushing herself off the frame and flinging the Nautolan’s arm over her shoulders haphazardly. “The droids are re-entering the base, most likely to set off the bombs and blow us all to kingdom come. Unless you want to end up as no more than ash smeared on the floor, we have to go. I closed as many blast doors as I could, but it won’t take them long to find out we’re here.”

He stands uncomprehendingly for a few moments before shaking his head, “There’s no way we get out of here alive.”

“Not with that attitude,” she grunts. “A little help?” He stays rooted in his place.

“Ahsoka, there’s no way we can get out of here alive.”

She lets out a hiss of pain as the prisoner goes limp in her arms, then readjusts herself to carry more of his weight. She shoots a glare at Ponds. “Care to explain, or are you just going to say cryptic sentences for the rest of our grand escape?”

“Think about it, Tooka,” he wrings his hands. “We’re carrying an injured man, whom we can barely lug around even with two of us at our full strength. There’s a bunch of droids blocking our way, bombs just waiting to be set off, not to mention the fact that we’re neck-deep in enemy territory without working comms! It’s insane to even think of making it out of here without missing at least three limbs.”

“Then what do you propose we do?”

He swallows, looks at the Nautolan. The man nods slowly, and if Ponds peers closely enough, he thinks he can see relief flooding into his onyx-like eyes. “We’ll have to leave the prisoner.”

He expects dramatics, most likely a lot of shouting, accusations, and typical Jedi arrogance- she’ll probably tell him he’s heartless, then walk out the door and try to save them all anyway, without weighing the risks. He wonders how quickly he can grab the promethazine.

He really, really does not expect her to say, “I understand.”

Both Ponds and the Nautolan’s eyes widen in surprise. Nobody’s ever heard of a Jedi agreeing to let a life slip between their fingers, and not a soul has heard of a clone’s idea being taken by a Jedi without any sort of question or protest.

Ahsoka’s knees buckle from the man’s weight, and Ponds barely lurches forward fast enough, just helping lower the Nautolan to the ground before the Togruta manages to hurt herself.

“He’s awake,” Ahsoka whispers, one hand gently running over the General’s head. Without the Force, Ponds can feel the doubt and regret piling on her shoulders. “We can’t-”

“Kid,” the prisoner coughs lightly, held between their arms on the dirty floor, “you’re doing the right thing.” Dark eyes flicker to Ponds, “You too, trooper.”

Ponds looks directly at Ahsoka, “We know.”

They hear another blast door being forced open, and Ahsoka inhales sharply, her hands twitching, “I- I can’t heal with the Force, but I can… speed up natural processes.”

“Put me to sleep, then,” the Nautolan closes his eyes, and for a moment, Ponds thinks the man smiles as Ahsoka settles one hand on his forehead and the other on his chest.

The clone’s unable to snuff the pride in his chest as he watches Ahsoka sink into a trance-like state. He wonders if she’s ever done this for her own men, then remembers seeing the 501st come back after a disastrous mission where a medic was counted in the casualties. Ahsoka had a hollowed look in her eyes as she walked across the landing platform that day, and her loyal Captain was hovering closer than usual.

He’s never seen Windu step forward to use his abilities to help another soldier pass smoother into the afterlife. Maybe it’s an image or reputation thing. Putting down one’s soldiers could make a leader appear weak, or too compassionate, in the eyes of the enemy.

Ahsoka certainly looks compassionate as she harnesses her powers to slow the man’s heart rate- Ponds is holding his wrist, so he knows- but she sure as hell doesn’t look weak. She looks tough.

There’s another bang from the compound, and Ahsoka doesn’t twitch. Ponds isn’t even sure if she’s aware of anything. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of her chest, he would be checking her pulse too.

Another bang.

They don’t have much time left. Ponds reaches out for Ahsoka’s shoulders, only for her eyes to snap open. He swears they seem a little more luminous for a brief moment before returning to their usual shade.

Her eyes flicker to the man draped over their knees, limp and slowly going cold, “We need to get going.” She says, drawing back her shaky hands.

Ponds nods, gently placing the prisoner onto the ground. It would be respectful to give him a funeral of sorts, but they don’t have the time, and he knows the Nautolan would understand.

Ahsoka stands- trembling slightly- and takes her lightsaber in hand, “Let’s get out of here.”

If Ponds thought the corridors of the compound were dark, suffocating, and smelly, then he wasn’t prepared for the vents.

It was a tight fit, his shoulders brushing against the sides and the top of his helmet constantly dinging the metal above him as they crawl. He’s sure Ahsoka’s dulling the sound with the Force- an ability he’s never seen a Jedi do before.

Being slimmer and more flexible than him, the vents are less of a squeeze for the Togruta, but that doesn’t mean she feels any less claustrophobic. Her body temp is higher- according to his HUD- and kriff, these vents are freezing.

She’s also quiet, but that could be because she’s focusing on finding a way out of here. Ponds could use the map in his helmet, but he doesn’t know what type of scanners the droids could be using, and getting blown up inside a cylinder vent isn’t on his list of preferred ways to die.

Ahsoka lets out a suppressed whimper, which brings them to a grinding halt. Ponds crouches forwards, putting a hand on her shoulder to turn her his way. What does he say? ‘You did the right thing’ and ‘the guy was dying anyway’ only go so far.

To his surprise, it wasn’t her emotions and conscience that caused Ahsoka to stop. With a blank expression, she presents her palm which has been sliced, courtesy of the rust gathering in this vent.

Ponds frowns within his helmet, saying nothing as he wraps her palm with a bandage. It’ll stop the blood from making her grip slick, and hopefully, she won’t catch some deadly infection, although he’s certain she’ll need a tetanus shot now.

Coric won’t be impressed.

“Alright?” He whispers, giving her fingers a slight squeeze once he finished wrapping the wound, “We’re nearly out of here.”

“I’m fine,” Ahsoka seems to shiver slightly as she turns back around, placing her hands more carefully as they continue to crawl. 

“Six.”

Ponds lifts his head, “Huh?”

“He was the sixth one.”

She doesn’t provide any further explanation. He doesn’t need any more context. Six is too many people for one teenager to kill out of mercy, but there’s nothing anyone can do about that.

“What are we going to tell the General?” Ponds asks as they walk towards the Republic base.

They barely got out of that compound in time. If Ahsoka didn’t pull him out of the air vent with the Force, Ponds would be nothing but a pile of ash.

Ahsoka was unusually quiet during their stealthy escape from the POW camp and the trek back to their own lines, and Ponds didn’t press for conversation. Her act of mercy killing the Nautolan took a lot of her energy- judging by the way she’s dragging her feet- but there’s also a sunken look in her eyes which isn’t from the exhaustion.

Letting someone die can eat you up inside, he remembers a medic telling him once, tired golden irises identical to his own seemingly seeing straight into his soul, and you never quite forget about it for a long time.

“I’ll handle it.” Ahsoka replies, flashing him a tight smile.

Ponds raises an eyebrow, “Thought General Windu wasn’t your biggest fan?”

“He isn't.” She winces, and he isn’t sure if she’s in pain or just imagining the lecture- and possible punishment- that she’s about to receive. “But he’ll go easier on me than you.”

“We could just say we didn’t find any survivors.” He offers before scoffing at himself, “That General was as good as dead anyway.”

“I’ve learnt that it’s not wise to lie to Master Windu.” Ahsoka replies, and for a moment there’s a flicker of mischief in her eyes before they return to their hollowed state, “I don’t regret what I did back there, Ponds.”

She gives him a sharp glance, as if expecting him to judge, “Do you think I did the right thing?”

“Kid,” he reaches out to lay a hand on her shoulder, “We did the right thing- there’s no doubt about it.” He smiles tightly, grateful she can’t see his expressions through his helmet- he’s always been bad at faking things. “You’re a lot tougher than I thought, Tano.”

The corners of her lips turn upwards slightly, but he can see a haze begin to cloud over her eyes, “And you’re a lot more caring than any other clone Commander I’ve met, Ponds.” She pauses, then gently removes his hand from her shoulder. Her fingers are so cold. “You’re no killing machine.”

“Ponds, Tano.”

They look ahead to where Windu’s marching towards them, “You two have been gone for a while.”

“Master Windu,” Ahsoka steps forwards, features suddenly morphed into a professional expression. “Shall we talk in the privacy of the command room?”

“Certainly.” Windu half-turns, raising a non-existent eyebrow, “Are you joining us, Commander?”

“Of course, sir.” Ponds steps in line with Ahsoka, lowering his voice to a pitch he’s sure only montrals will pick up, “I would never let a Tooka face a dragon alone.”

“Snips, come here a second!”

Wrapping her arms around herself, Ahsoka walks into Anakin’s room with her eyes down. “Yes, Master?”

“Before you leave with Master Plo, can you put some water bottles in the fridge?” He asks, laying on his bed in his sleep clothes despite it being midday. “Master Che keeps fretting over dehydration.”

“Sure, Master,” Ahsoka drags her feet back to the kitchen in their apartment. She isn’t used to having to baby Anakin when he’s on medical leave- he’s usually adamant to do everything himself. Apparently, being trapped under a cruiser for hours and suffering horrific surface burns to most of his upper body has really taken a toll.

Ahsoka completes the task, trying her hardest to not think about the tape from the bounty hunters sent to the Temple that morning. She tried to turn away when Aurra Sing aimed her blaster at the back of Ponds’ head, but the assassin was too fast. 

She shakes her head quickly as tears burn into her eyes, a cold feeling she can’t quite place settling into her heart and digging itself a hole to stay in. 

She’s no stranger to death, and yet the grief hits her in waves every few minutes like the ocean itself has a personal vendetta against her.

“Ahsoka?”

She turns sharply, blinking to get a clearer image of Anakin’s concerned expression as he surveys her from across the room. “What’s wrong?”

“You should be resting, Master.” She replies, turning away quickly. He’s too injured to be worrying about her feelings towards a man who’s already dead.

“Hey,” Anakin walks over- carefully, of course, he’s still on bed rest. “Talk to me, kiddo. What’s this about?” Ahsoka has never wanted to sever a Force-bond so badly in her life.

“I-” a lump lodges in her throat, and Ahsoka feels like her knees might buckle. She clings onto the counter behind her, avoiding Anakin’s eyes, “I feel bad for Ponds.”

Anakin’s silent, and she immediately backtracks, “I know he’s just a clone, and- and I shouldn’t get attached, but…” she looks up at her Master, “but he was a good guy, Master, and-“ She chokes a little.

“He didn’t deserve to die.” She whispers, her throat raw. She feels the cool countertop against the thin scar against her palm, remembering how vulnerable she felt when she revealed how many friends she had killed to end their suffering.

The first was a veteran. He, like the Nautolan prisoner, knew there wasn’t a way out. Anakin and Coric were with her at the time- her Master taught her what to do.

The second was a shiny. She was on her own- a jungle patrol gone terribly wrong. She was so ashamed of what she did that she never told anyone. She just said the shot killed him before she could get help. Everyone believed her.

The third was a civilian- a teenager. It was her first mission providing relief aid to a community, and they couldn’t arrange a life support machine to be brought down. That time, the family asked the medics what could be done to ease the boy’s suffering, and Ahsoka volunteered, knowing that Anakin could never handle the death of children.

The fourth was a medic. A 501st trooper. She didn’t like to think about that one too much. Rex didn’t speak to her for a week, and Kix couldn’t look her in the eyes. Coric had patted her shoulder once they landed on Coruscant, but nobody ever mentioned it again.

The fifth was one of Wolffe’s men. The Commander came to her quarters in the dead of night, asking if she could do some Force-healing. She learnt on the way to the medbay that Master Plo wanted to leave the man to die naturally, but Wolffe didn’t want to see his vod suffer slowly. He was the only witness.

The sixth was the Nautolan prisoner. By then, Ahsoka was well-practised in the art of easing someone into death. It was one of the only skills she hated to have. Windu raised an invisible eyebrow when she revealed that she’d ended the man’s life, but Ponds stood forward, saying he encouraged it, and then the elder Jedi was more subdued about it.

Ahsoka’s vision is filled with Pond’s soft smile, his cautious gaze. Mottled green skin supported by gentle tan hands, dark walls with ticking time bombs hidden within their depths, sad eyes seemingly both suffocating and warm at the same time- all so long ago, and yet the memories feel as if they had been formed just yesterday.

“I miss him.” She wipes her nose with the back of her hand, “I never got to say goodbye.”

“Ponds was a good man." Anakin consolidates, resting a large hand on her shoulder, “He was a great Commander, and I always thought highly of him- I know you looked up to him, Snips. It’s not fair that he died.”

“He didn’t say his name.” Ahsoka whispers, “Aurra asked his name, and he said his number.” She clenches her eyes closed, “He told me that he thought of himself as more than some killing machine- he called himself a peacekeeper.”

“Then that’s how we’ll remember him,” Anakin promises. Then, he takes her shoulders to look at her face, “And we’ll find a way to save those other hostages, in his honour.”

Ahsoka nods, letting Anakin wipe under her eyes with his thumb, “Master Plo’s probably waiting for me.”

“Go and get ‘em, kiddo.” Anakin helps her to her feet, offering a reassuring smile, “Make the Commander proud.

A light breeze flows into the room, and words seem to whisper themselves against Ahsoka’s montrals.

You already have, Tooka.