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Ahsoka’s body screamed in protest as she and Rex excavated the wreckage of the Venator in search of their comrades. The silence hung heavy in the air between them, words left unsaid, neither of them ready to express their grief, that was punctuated by the occasional groans of shifting twisted metal or the howling of the arid wind outside the starship's cracked walls. Hand over hand they climbed together, muscles burning as they pulled themselves over the walls and through hallways.
Untreated blaster burns twinged as Ahsoka brushed against the hull of the ship, reaching out to a lifeless hand to pull another man free from the rubble. They had been her men, her brothers, too. Their fate, determined by a sinister plot to tear apart the Republic, turned against her, and there was nothing she could have done to stop it.
She couldn’t help but feel guilty, sometimes she choked on it in the midst of their work, her breath catching in her throat.
They had survived, her and Rex. In the heat of it all she had barely managed to even locate the chip planted in his head and get it removed, but what if? What if she had figured it out sooner? Uncovered the report on Fives from Rex?
Could she have saved them all? Would she have understood?
It was hard to be the ones that survived, it didn’t seem fair that they got to live on while the brothers that they laid to rest had become one with the cosmic force too soon. The least they could do is remember them, and offer a respectful burial.
It was long, hard, uncomfortable work.
By day they moved like ghosts through the smoking ship, at night they rested in the makeshift camp pieced together from salvaged emergency supplies underneath a piece of the hull.
She remembered the name of nearly every clone that they were able to find. Although it wasn’t a requirement of her post to do so, Ahsoka had always felt that it was her responsibility as a Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic to know her men. If she came up short, Rex was always there with a memory to breathe life into them before they were laid to rest.
Each of their fallen comrades would be carried outside carefully through the empty, mangled halls of the starship, Ahsoka and Rex following safe pathways through the wreckage that would come to be well worn.
Not far from their camp was where they started their extemporary burial ground.
Outside of the starship’s hull, the grit and smoke-filled air burned their lungs as their shovels broke through the cracked earth over and over. They hefted heaps of earth over their shoulders in silence and reverence, blisters forming on their palms, and sweat dripped from their brows darkening the parched soil. The rhythm settled into their bones as they dug grave after grave. Breathing in, and out, shovels striking into the earth percussively.
After many evenings, exhaustion loosened their lips, and they found comfort in reminiscing about the earlier times.
Ahsoka remembered when she became Anakin’s Padawan, and the 501st had folded her into their family instantly. Rex had been a lot more uptight then, introducing himself with a ramrod straight back and a stern salute despite her small stature.
None of that military politeness lasted into the heat of battle when their lives were on the line.
All of the 501st were fiercely protective of her, so much so it prompted a lecture from her Master about their “helicopter parenting” and he had to assure them that she could hold her own. But as time went on they became more like her brothers, and less like her chaperones. They had friendly competitions on the battlefield, and they began to include her in their gentle ribbing and jokes, even if some of them made her blush deeply.
Off duty they asked her to join her for a game of sabacc, and she had even tagged along to 79’s a few times, much to her Master’s disapproval.
Kix would sneak her a sweet candy that was usually reserved for low blood sugar situations, just to see her smile during a tough day. Jesse would always volunteer to practice her defensive forms with her, offering blaster fire for her to reflect. Hardcase had a habit of challenging her to see who could take out the most clankers, Ahsoka almost always won, but she’ll never forget his expression the day that he finally outmatched her. Fives always wanted to play her in sabacc, insisting on testing his skill against her Force senses, even if Rex reprimanded them for encouraging Fives’ habit of tricking shinies out of their spare credits. Even Echo who kept to himself for the most part, would always be there with the perfect cup of fresh caf right when Ahsoka needed it whilst up to her eyes in reports.
Every one of them had a piece of her heart.
At this point there was only one holding her together entirely.
In the evening while trading stories and losing themselves in memories of the past, the firelight would flicker in Rex’s warm brown eyes and across his skin now darkened from the sun, and Ahsoka would drift off watching him. From her first day with the 501st, despite his rigidness, he had helped her feel safe. They grew closer through battlefields, conversations shared in confidence off duty, bonding over wild plans Anakin would devise. Ahsoka wondered now when the feelings she felt for Rex became more than just a brotherhood in arms. The moment they shared on the Venator before they executed their escape in the hangar would play in her head. She wished that there had been time for her to better comfort him, to show him how much she cared, to allow herself to be as vulnerable in front of him as he was letting her see him.
Did he feel the same? Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments, but she wasn’t a Jedi anymore, was she?
Their shared grief kept her from dwelling on it too long, it felt too hopeful, there was important work to do.
Towards the end of their work, Rex took salvaged pieces of metal to place each trooper’s helmet above their respective grave, ensuring that they were marked.
" As soon as Rex and the guys knew you were back they got to work. "
" The paint job's a little crude but we think it gets the idea across. Glad to have you back, Commander. "
Ahsoka’s heart broke each time they unearthed a helmet with her visage painted across them, the 332nd Company, her division, and seeing them now staring back at her it was a reminder of everyone that she had failed. They had faith in her, they loved her as their Commander, and there was nothing that she could do to keep them from the evil fate that had been chosen for them.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t all of the 501st that went down with the Venator, she could only imagine that the unit that went with her Master befell a similar fate, either way she was under no illusions that she would see them again. If only she could have done more.
The grief lapped at her heart like ocean waves threatening to pull her under, but Rex would always be there with a hand on her shoulder to pull her out and back to the grim task at hand. Breathe. Save your tears.
They’d helped each other through battlefields, dodged live fire from legions of droids, scraped by on one of Anakin’s outlandish plans, they would make it through together. Somehow.
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Rex had been born in war, engineered to serve the Republic, he never expected it to come crashing down around him like this. He never expected that the war would end with just him and his (former) Commander burying his brothers, fugitives of the Republic.
He never expected that he might have been the only one to survive.
From his “birth”, Rex had been selected for leadership, he would be the responsible one. The Kaminoans selected him for extra courses on strategy and troop management, putting him on a path for commanding his own squad before he got formal blaster training. But the desire inside of him to take charge ultimately arose from his wish to protect his brothers.
Nearly everyone viewed them as disposable, the names they gave themselves and differences between every brother he met proved otherwise. So Rex promised himself early on that he could help make sure that as many of them made it back as was possible.
After completing his training and earning his title of Captain, he was able to become the leader of the 501st.
Overseeing them was like wrangling wild monkey-lizards, especially his Domino Squad, but Rex always felt a tremendous swell of pride at their every accomplishment and victory.
He did his best to prepare them for every battle that they would face, and even if he wished that he could have thrown his own body between every blaster bolt that took another one of his comrades, there was only so much that he could do. Learning to accept those losses was a topic the Kaminoans never breached, he supposed that that wasn’t a consideration on their part.
It got easier, in a way, even if the guilt danced in the back of his mind when the roll call went out in the field. New names would filter in to replace the ones that filtered out.
Under the command of Anakin and Ahsoka, the list of names that he carried with him didn’t have to be so long. None of them were under the illusion that their lives meant much to the birthers around them, they were a flesh and blood mass produced army to send out against the hordes of droids. And the weight that their entire existence was predicated on this war rested heavily on all of their shoulders, some of them bore it better than others.
But it was people like Ahsoka and Anakin that proved otherwise.
None of his brothers had to be cannon fodder. His commander’s tactics were...unconventional to say the least. But they knew every one of the 501st by name, calling out to individuals directly on the battlefield, they mourned fallen comrades like they were their own.
A rumor went around the barracks at one point that Commander Skywalker had been a slave before coming to the Jedi temple. They were all aware of slavers throughout the galaxy, but they couldn’t imagine a Jedi, whose mystical existence was paid such reverence, coming from such humble beginnings.
Many of his brothers brushed it off, it was forgotten in favor of juicier Senate politics or bragging of lascivious conquests. But Rex sat silent remembering the moments where he saw his Commander’s anger break over a slaver planetside. The times he had to field dress Skywalker’s wounds before Kix could navigate the blaster fire from clankers to reach them. The way that Anakin would avert his eyes as Rex would peel back the layers of his clothing to find gnarled old silvering scars spidering around raw blaster burns, seeming to Rex like he was saving himself from some psychic pain.
He wondered if his Commander understood what it meant to be treated without humanity, too.
He had endless respect for him, so watching Commander Tano grow under Commander Skywalker’s guidance was a gift in itself.
Despite being their Commander, the 501st had folded her into the family as they had done with Skywalker previously, and Rex’s pride for his men mirrored the pride he felt for the youngling.
Even from the get go they all would have happily taken a blaster round for the young padawan. At first she regarded them all cautiously, unsure of where she fit in among them, but over time she was joining them in all of their in-jokes. Rex grew to love her like one of his own brothers, and it wasn’t until she left that he realized that he loved her differently.
When she left the Order and the 501st behind Rex couldn't help but feel betrayed. Hadn’t they offered her the only safety and family in the galaxy? Was he wrong in the connection that he felt that they had?
Ahsoka’s absence felt like a phantom limb, watching her back, working together, helping to protect his troops, she had become so near and dear to his heart.
They had gotten closer by sharing stories of life after deployments. Late at night when the paperwork was done and the crew was resting in the barracks they even worked through the growing pains of being asked to be more adult than they felt they were ready to be. Words were said in confidence knowing that they both trusted one another to take them to their graves. Despite Rex’s appearance they were close in age in standard years, neither of them knew anything other than war and the responsibilities that were hefted onto them because of it. Ahsoka confided in him the struggle that she faced growing up without ever knowing her family. She had Plo Koon as a surrogate father, but war made people hard and the Jedi’s practices kept him distant. Rex understood, the Kaminoans weren’t family, no where close to a parent, all he had were his brothers, his service to the Republic.
But the Battle of Umbara changed his feelings toward the Republic and cast doubts on the whole purpose behind the war. When he had shared his thoughts with Ahsoka, questioning his purpose in life, she admitted that she was starting to feel the same. But what would both of their lives be without the war, she wondered? Without the Republic?
They both felt alone.
He could only imagine that she felt as shattered as he did, it had all come crashing down around them. The Republic, the safety they had felt in their found family.
He had turned on her, pursued her through that Starship, driven by a near primal command to follow the orders he was given. It had been tortuous, like watching himself in a mirror. His heart had ached, knowing that he loved and cared for her, but his hands kept moving to the triggers of his blasters. The thought of her not saving him in time, his warning to her not being enough, her life coming to an end as a result of his actions was enough to take his breath away.
Nothing would ever be the same.
It would take a lot of time for him to process how to even move forward.
Though he and Ahsoka didn’t talk much doing the somber work of laying all of his brothers to rest, Rex felt the unspoken gestures in the gentleness of her every move.
From when they were in the hangar, to crashing down onto this parched planet, Ahsoka’s actions spoke of forgiveness.
When the suns set below the horizon at night and the temperature dropped, they would hole up in an alcove where the starship’s hull came away. It wasn’t easy at first, Rex didn’t trust himself not to harm her. The chip was gone, but how could he know what else they had done to him without his knowledge?
But slowly, he let himself get closer to her, this was his Commander, Ahsoka Tano. She had saved him, chose him, he could let himself trust her. There was comfort to be found, where every evening they could settle into each other’s arms to rest after sharing stories. Even if one of them began to shake, surely it was from the cold, they could sooth one another with gentle caresses. The tears staining Rex’s blacks and Ahsoka’s shirt going unmentioned.
They would share the burden together, they shared their pain, and when the final helmet came to rest over Jesse’s grave, Rex knelt in the dust and dirt.
All around him were the ghosts of his brothers, all of the faces he couldn’t save.
It was only him left, and he hardly felt that he had deserved to be the only one of them to survive.
Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes, and this time he let them go. He hadn’t allowed himself time to let the grief spill forth before now, but now they were done with their work here and it was time to say goodbye.
His shoulders shook with the release, the loss hitting him in waves.
The cruelty of it all. The war, its futility, the lives cut short.
He let himself cry for all the lives he couldn’t save, every man in the 501st that had been under his command. He let himself cry for the forgiveness that Ahsoka continued to offer him.
Rex buried his face in his hands, still covered in dirt and blistered, smudging more mud on his cheeks as he gasped through a hard sob.
A gentle pair of hands came to rest on either side of his head sending hot shame lancing through him as Rex thought of his training, he had to be strong, his men couldn’t see him break like this. In a couple of beats he realized again that it was only him and his Commander.
Rex leaned his cheek into them, Ahsoka’s thumb rubbing comforting circles, seeking their warmth. The dirt crunched behind him as she slid down to her knees and her arms encircled him from behind. She embraced him tightly, he would have complained about the force of it otherwise, but he leaned into the comfort feeling like she was holding him together. He could feel her shake with quiet sobs through his plastoid armor and wondered if she was the one holding onto him for dear life.
They kneeled together until the sun fell on another day, feeling wrung out.
Tomorrow they would finally leave and face the new and unknown galaxy ahead, but tonight they needed to rest. They skipped the pleasantries by the firelight, eating rations quietly, watching the flame. When it came to bunking down for the night Rex folded Ahsoka into his arms easily and without fear.
This time their lips brushed each other as the wood burnt down to glowing coals, having shed enough tears to fill one of Courasant’s lakes. Too tired to do much of anything else, they tucked into each other, and felt a little less alone.
When the sun peeked over the horizon they salvaged what they could from the wreck of the Venator. Although there wasn’t much in the name of long term emergency provisions, they found stim packs and dry rations to help with the trip to come. It was just as well since the bomber they escaped in wasn’t equipped for long hauls either. They would have to find a planet that they could lay low on for a time to try to find out what had happened while they went off the grid.
Rex packed the rest of their gear into the Y-Wing, turning to watch Ahsoka, her cloak billowing in the gritty wind. She stood looking out at the sea of Trooper helmets, the wind howling around her.
The sunlight glinted off the metal of her lightsaber as it fell from her hand, falling into the dust.
She was no longer a Jedi, he was no longer a captain of the Grand Army of the Republic.
They would never be the same, but at least they could face the galaxy ahead of them together.