Work Text:
She is cold. That is all that is running through Ahsoka’s mind as she numbly wanders down the halls of the venator. She is cold. And she should be better than this. She is a Jedi, a padawan, sure, but a Jedi.
So why does it feel like her heart is being torn to pieces?
The Force rolls around her in waves of unbearable pain. Her men are battered, beaten, bloody. Her arms ache - all of her aches, really - from wielding her lightsaber for hours, days on end, just trying to make sure her men made it home safely.
She was not successful in her endeavor.
“Commander?” She turns around. She thinks this isn’t the first time her title has been called, but she knows for certain when she sees Rex’s worried expression. “Commander, are you alright?”
She’s better than this. She’s a Jedi. She’s their commander. She’s supposed to be able to be their touchstone when everything else goes awry and this campaign had done just that. It had been one disaster after another. The terrain was rough and the onslaught of Seppie forces even rougher. Her lips quiver and tears sting her eyes. “No. I’m not.”
The captain rushes towards her at a dizzying speed and she wonders, distantly, how he still has the energy to move like his life depends upon it. “Are you injured?” He is scanning over her frame, no doubt about to start another argument on how she needs to wear armor.
“No,” she rasps. “Just a little scrape on my knee.” From where she fell down by a trooper, CT-2153 - he hadn’t even picked his name yet - and held his hand while he took his last breath. She can feel agony bleeding into the force and she finally succumbs to it.
The tears that she has been desperately trying to contain spill over and trickle down her cheeks. She looks down at her boots, mostly to avoid Rex’s gaze. She doesn’t want him to think that she is weak. He finally started calling her ‘commander’ and meaning it. Before, when she had just landed on Christophsis, he had called her ‘litt’un’ or ‘kid’ and shortly thereafter when he had started calling her commander it had sounded so forced that she almost wanted to tell him to go back to calling her various diminutives. But now, when he says her title, he means it and she doesn’t want to lose his respect.
Gently, oh so gently, he reaches out and touches her elbow. “Come with me.”
She looks up from her boots to his face and finds nothing but pure, unwavering respect. Through the Force, she feels a small wave of warmth and she clings to it. She follows him without question, barely looking up from her feet so as to avoid the eyes of any of her men.
She doesn’t want them to see her cry.
“Hey, Captain, where you headin’?” She feels Jesse more than she hears him approach.
“To find a quiet spot. Anything you need?”
He shuffles. “A quiet spot.”
~
After a quick pit stop to grab an extra shirt they find a quiet spot in the back half of the venator, listening to the water heaters kick on and off and the thrum of the hyperdrive. Rex tells Ahsoka to sit and he folds up next to her, gently pulling a set of his blacks over her head and maneuvering her arms into the sleeves. It is about five times too big, but she folds herself up in it, nonetheless. She wipes her eyes with the sleeves and breathes in the GAR detergent. It is plain, but it smells like home.
“I’m sorry,” she rasps. He has lost the same amount of men that she has, but here she is blubbering like a youngling.
“It’s okay to cry,” he reassures her. “This campaign was harder than most. We lost a lot of good men, but…” he clears his throat. “But we will remember them and we will learn from this and we will do better in the future.”
She nods, her tears finally drying up. “I will do better in the future. I promise.”
He smirks, “I have no doubt. Come’re.”
He has shed the top half of his armor, and leans back against the wall, patting his chest. She has never been so eager to be wrapped up in someone’s embrace. That is one thing the Togruta and the Clones have in common - they show affection physically. She scrambles in between his legs and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer to his chest. She nestles in and listens to the steady rhythm of his heart.
“You’re okay,” he whispers, pressing his chin in between her montrals and rocking slightly back and forth. “You’re okay.”
No more tears are shed, but the sadness rolls over her like the oceans on Kamino. She has never been there, but she has heard stories. She clings to Rex’s steady presence - both physically and with in the Force - and tries to absorb some of his warmth.
“Mind if we join?” She twists around, and sees Jesse with his arm tossed around Kix and Hardcase loitering next to them.
She shakes her head. “You’re always welcome.”
He grins that typical Jesse smirk, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Good, I was planning on sitting here anyway.”
He sits on the wall perpendicular to theirs and rests his legs against Rex’s. Hardcase sits across from them and Kix joins them on the floor, his back facing them and an arm’s length away. There is a silent moment while Jesse and Hardcase take off the top part of their armor, but Kix sits there, rigid.
“Kix, how are you holding up?” Rex’s voice rumbles through her montrals. She doesn’t think she will ever tell him out loud, but she likes the sound of his voice. Whenever Rex is near, that means she is safe and when she is safe, she can relax.
She takes a deep breath in and rides the wave of agony arching through the Force. It is radiating from Kix like an ion cannon charge.
“What… is the point… of being a medic,” he sounds like he is speaking through gritted teeth. “When I can’t save any kriffing lives?!” The last part is a shout and she jerks up to look at him. In all of the months that she has known Kix, she has never heard him yell. Not once. He is gentle even when manhandling stubborn troopers - like Rex - into medical. Kix hiccups with grief and Jesse wordlessly pulls him closer and starts pulling off his armor plates.
It is then that she sees that he is covered in blood. With her face twisting up with grief, Ahsoka nestles back into Rex’s chest and focuses on his heartbeat.
“Commander, you okay?” She hears Hardcase ask, but she can hardly nod.
She will be okay, she just… isn’t right now. She needs to meditate, but that would require getting up and she is finally warm.
“Did I ever tell you about my first campaign?” She can hear the smile in his voice and she carefully shakes her head in the negative.
“Well,” the plastoid if his armor creaks against the durasteel of the hallway as he settles in for his story, “I was so fucking--”
“Language,” Rex chastises.
She snorts. As if she hasn’t heard Rex cursing up one side and down the other when he thinks she isn’t close enough to hear him. Her captain has quite a wide and colorful vocabulary.
“I was so kriffing sick when I got done. I think I was so scared my body decided to just lose my lunch, well, and my breakfast and maybe even dinner from the night before. Anyway! I ran into the ‘fresher and while I was hugging the bowl I crashed from the stimm I had taken and fell asleep… With my head in the bowl.”
She snorts.
“You’re lucky you didn’t drown,” Kix mumbles and Jesse chuckles.
“Yeah the Captain sent me everywhere trying to find him,” Jesse continues. “I was about to start searching the ventilation shafts when a very soggy Hardcase emerged from the ‘fresher and asked me what day it was.”
They all share a chuckle before the somber tone of the day settles back over them like a blanket.
“I guess, uh, what I’m trying to say is that it’s okay to be a little scared after your first rough campaign.”
She sniffles, feeling the tears rise up once more. “But… I… I’m your commander.”
“So? If anything I would respect you more if you fell asleep in a toilet and had the dignity to walk out of the ‘fresher like nothing happened.”
They all bust out laughing, even Kix.
“Wow, Hardcase, what sage advice.” She can hear Jesse roll his eyes.
“I’m just saying!”
“You’ll have our respect, no matter what, Commander,” Jesse interjects. “If anything, seeing you sad just reminds us how much you care and how hard you work to protect us.”
She sniffles. “Thank you… Because I don’t think I’ll be rushing off to sleep in a toilet any time soon.”
They laugh again and Ahsoka curls closer to Rex as he rubs a hand up and down her back.
Ahsoka feels warm, peaceful, and maybe- for the first time in days- a little hopeful. The last thing she hears as the world fades to black and she welcomes the sweet embrace of restful oblivion is Rex murmuring, “You’re alright kid, we’ve got your back.”