Work Text:
知音: zhīyīn - intimate friend/soul mate. Component characters: 知 - know, perceive, comprehend; 音 - sound, tone, pitch.
天涯呀海角 From the ends of the earth to the bluffs of the sea
觅呀觅知音 Searching, searching for the one who knows her song
小妹妹唱歌郎奏琴 The young woman sings and the young man plays along
郎呀咱们俩是一条心 Oh! They two are of one heart.
嗳哟嗳嗳哟 Aiyah, aiyah
郎呀咱们俩是一条心 Oh! They two are of one heart.
From 天涯歌女 by 贺绿汀
Ahsoka was dying. And it was such a stupid way to die, too. Illness was one thing, but a short, brutal fever care of a virus manufactured by a madman? It didn’t feel like a very Jedi way to die.
Ahsoka’s chest heaved with a wracking cough and she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and focusing on taking slow, even breaths. From across the room she felt Padme and her despair, the emotions subtly recognizable as a minor version of Padme’s typical elegant melody. Ahsoka concentrated further and the steady beats of the two troopers who’d collapsed to the floor were still audible, though their steadfast rhythm was fading. Jar Jar’s loose, chaotic tune was more frantic than usual, reflecting his distress. Ahsoka managed a weak smile as she sensed one of her favorite melodies. She let Rex’s sturdy, earnest song wash over her. At least, even in death, she had the vibrations of the galaxy to comfort her.
“What a waste,” Padme’s soft voice sounded from across the room.
“With all due respect, Senator… it’s what these men were born to do,” Rex said.
Eyes still closed, Ahsoka frowned. She didn’t like that idea, and the fact that it was true only made it worse.
“I hope that their sacrifice brings us closer to peace.”
Padme’s melody faltered, a note of despair ringing through the grace. It was all wrong, and Ahsoka had to fix it. She struggled to her feet and coughed. “It will, Padme. You must… believe that…”
Her legs gave out just as her vision faded, and she collapsed. Barely aware of reality, Ahsoka felt stiff arms catch her, preventing her from hitting the cold, hard ground. Worried voices murmured around her but she couldn’t see anything, could barely form a coherent thought. Everything faded to a dull, empty grey.
Then… then everything changed.
Her eyes were still closed, her thoughts still feverish and confused, but the peace that washed over her was undeniable. With his arms around her, Rex’s consistent beat was stronger and it joined Ahsoka’s own rhythm in a poignant duet. New, soaring harmonies emerged from Ahsoka’s familiar frequencies and purpose surfaced from notes she’d never understood before. It was clear these two songs were meant to go together, and Ahsoka had never felt so complete.
Whatever energy to remain conscious faded away as the illness took hold of her, but Ahsoka only felt peace.
When she woke hours later, the precious antidote coursing through her veins, her memories of her last waking moments before nearly succumbing to the virus were foggy. But the way she’d felt, the wholeness and the source thereof, remained clear in her mind. She’d found her zhiyin, the one who understood her song, the person whose melody matched hers. And that was a problem.
Ahsoka bounced her knee and tapped her thigh while she stood at the doors of the transport, waiting for the landing sequence to finish. They were only headed back to Coruscant, but she had that same kind of nervous energy that she usually only carried into battle.
“You alright there, kid?” Rex asked, standing only a few feet away.
Ahsoka pursed her lips and closed her eyes. She tried without success to block out the melody that grew louder whenever Rex was near. It wasn’t an obnoxious sound, in fact it was exactly the opposite. Ever since she’d passed out in his arms on Naboo, Ahsoka and grown more and more in tune to Rex’s frequency, more aware of it and how it seemed to fit with hers like a kyber crystal in a lightsaber.
Rex had felt it. He had to have. Jedi were more sensitive to the resonance of the galaxy than other people, but a sound as powerful as the music of your soulmate was something anyone could hear. He knew Ahsoka was his zhiyin, and he hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t acknowledged it in any way.
It made sense. It was the right move, for a lot of reasons. Ahsoka was far too young for either of them to do anything about this knowledge, not to mention she was his superior officer. And on top of all that, she was a Jedi, and not supposed to have any kind of romantic relationship with anyone. Ever. It made sense, but it still hurt. Shouldn’t it be harder for him to ignore? Shouldn’t she have been more difficult to simply set aside?
“Kid?” Rex asked again.
“I’m fine,” Ahsoka said. “Just eager to get home.”
Rex looked at her doubtfully and nodded. “Yeah… You’ve got that Jedi council thing, right?”
“Yep.”
Rex waited for her to elaborate, but she remained stubbornly silent. Several Jedi had been called back to the temple to discuss strategy, but Rex already knew that. Did he expect her to chat with him about meetings and daily life back at the temple while he pointedly ignored the fact that they were zhiyin? No. No, that was not going to fly.
The landing sequence finally finished and Ahsoka hopped off, practically running away from Rex and the other troopers. Their trip had been scheduled to allow Ahsoka extra time to sleep and recover before the marathon of debriefs, non-combat Jedi training, and strategy sessions, but Ahsoka headed straight for Shaak Ti’s quarters instead of her own.
Master Ti was also on Coruscant for the conference, for which Ahsoka was grateful. Shaak Ti was known for being among the most devout and wise of the Jedi, and Ahsoka felt an additional affinity for her fellow Togruta. If anyone could give her advice, it would be Master Ti.
She pressed the panel outside of Master Ti’s quarters and waited, mind still not made up as to what exactly she would tell the wise woman. The door opened with a whoosh and Master Ti looked down at Ahsoka from the other side, her tall, imposing montrals casting a long shadow over the younger Togruta.
“Ahsoka Tano. What brings you here?” Master Ti said.
“I was… wondering if we could talk. I think I could use your advice.”
“I am always available to assist a Padawan in need.”
“Thanks,” Ahsoka said. She followed Shaak Ti into her quarters—a sparsely-furnished room of clean lines and soft light, perfect for meditation. Shaak Ti gracefully folded her long limbs into a cross-legged position on the floor, and Ahsoka followed suit. She sat across from Master Ti and breathed in. A light, spiced scent filled her head and eased the tension in her shoulders.
“What is it you need advice on, child?” Shaak Ti asked.
“I want to know about zhiyin,” Ahsoka said. She’d wanted to ease into the subject, but now that she was here she couldn’t think of a diplomatic approach.
Master Ti’s brow markings rose. “Zhiyin?”
“Yes! I… I’m confused because as Jedi, we are particularly in-tune to the frequency of the Force. We are meant to listen for it, to understand it, to try and move in accordance with it and be One with it. But we are also meant to forgo romantic relationships, so how do we reconcile that with zhiyin?”
Shaak Ti nodded, her eyes blinking long and slow in consideration. “Zhiyin are not inherently romantic in nature, young Padawan.”
“I know, but sometimes—a lot of the time—they are. What do other Jedi do if they meet their zhiyin?”
Shaak Ti folded her arms, depositing her hands deep into her voluminous sleeves. “A Jedi is first a hearer of the Force, and second a writer of their own song. It is vital that, in order to properly absorb the resonance of the galaxy without interference, we must remain detached from our individual wants and desires. We may very well meet a being whose soul sings to ours, but it is our choice to sing back or not.”
“So we just… ignore it? How is that the will of the Force? Didn’t the Force create the harmony in the first place?”
“It is not so simple as that, Padawan Tano” Shaak Ti said, her mild voice soothing Ahsoka’s mounting frustration. “Each soul is the author of their own melody. You may meet someone whose song matches yours now, but in a year or two the harmony is gone.”
Ahsoka’s lungs squeezed, a pang of loss hitting her with unexpected force. “I thought zhiyin lasted forever.”
“For most people, yes. But it is not some kind of prison of destiny. If one is determined to change, they can alter their song, and over millennia the Jedi have studied particular techniques to render one’s own song more removed from passion.”
“So if I use these techniques to change my song, I won’t have a zhiyin any more?” Ahsoka asked, her fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt.
“Perhaps. At the very least, it should make it easier for you to maintain your distance.”
Ahsoka’s lekku flushed. “I, uh, I was speaking hypothetically, I mean-”
“There is no need to tell me any details,” Master Ti said, raising her hand. “I will assume nothing.”
“Of course, Master.”
“I can train you to modulate your song, if that is what you wish. I have found that this alteration has also enhanced my own connection to the Force.”
Ahsoka thought of Rex, of his stern, kind face looking down at her without a hint of recognition in his eyes and no acknowledgment of their unique bond. She thought of the way he always called her “kid,” thought of his professional distance, and the logic behind it. It hurt, but he was right.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
The wind buffeted Ahsoka, countering the heat that radiated below her. She found a solid grip and let her weight hang down, her arms bearing the burden of keeping her on the wall. Then she made the mistake of looking down.
The livid magma surrounding the Citadel bubbled below her, angry and menacing. Electromines studded the cliff face, each one buzzing with barely-contained energy. This whole mission was crazy, and Ahsoka was beginning to regret conning her way onto the team.
She closed her eyes and focused on her melody, letting its soothing rhythm bring her much-needed serenity. Her song was different now, just as Master Ti had said it would be. Master Ti’s techniques and meditations had rendered Ahsoka’s song more measured and sedate—more independent, too. There were things Ahsoka liked about this new song and things she missed about the old one, but she couldn’t deny that Master Ti’s techniques helped with her little problem.
Ahsoka opened her eyes and reached for the next hold—a nice jug only a foot or so above her. From somewhere below, Rex’s familiar beat wafted up to her, unchanged in all the time Ahsoka had known him. There was still something achingly right about its sound, something that begged for accompaniment. But Ahsoka was better at tuning it out now. It wasn’t so insistent, and no longer felt like something she couldn’t do without.
It also helped that Ahsoka hadn’t worked in close contact with Rex for a while, but she was pretty sure the meditations were working, too. Rex’s distinct frequency grew stronger in Ahsoka’s mind, the resonance demanding attention. She reached for the next handhold and repeated the mantra Master Ti had taught her to herself.
A solo performance is just as lovely as a duet.
Her hold on serenity was beautiful but short-lived. She topped out over the precarious cliff and opened the ray-shielded entrance for her teammates. Then Charger slipped and fell from the cliff, killed before he even hit the lava below by the deadly voltage of an electromine.
Rex’s melody, ever-present in the back of Ahsoka’s mind despite her best efforts, ached in mourning. Ahsoka had known Charger, too. Not well, but they’d joke together on the transport. She felt for his loss, though it was nothing next to the heavy grief coming off of Rex.
“Well, they know we’re here,” Obi-Wan said.
Ahsoka stared at him hard. His words hadn’t been flippant, exactly, but couldn’t he hear the songs of grief from Echo? From Fives? From Rex?
He’s just focusing on the mission, focusing on keeping as many of us alive as possible, she reminded herself. And he probably can’t hear Rex the way I can…
She refused to linger any more on that last thought, on the reason she could hear Rex more clearly than any other being in the galaxy, and moved on. She needed to focus—The fate of the Republic was at stake.
The next to go was Longshot, another victim of electrified booby traps. He’d been in the 212th and Ahsoka hadn’t really known him. Rex’s pain was duller now but still noticeable.
They pushed on through the fortress, locating first Master Piell and then his subordinate, a pinch-faced Human named Captain Tarkin. They didn’t lose any more for a while but it was dicy. Commando droids and magnetized walls kept the whole team on their toes, and Charger and Longshot’s deaths were a painful reminder that this wasn’t a game. Her half truth about Master Plo returned to her mind and she grimaced. It had been so petty, coming here just to spite Anakin’s protective streak.
They separated after collecting Captain Tarkin, Obi-wan and Master Piell going through the fortress while Anakin and Tarkin’s group took to the tunnels below. They moved carefully and slowly and Ahsoka took point, waving the rest of the group forward when she was sure the way ahead was clear. Everyone was quiet and tense, which meant Ahsoka could hear Tarkin when he decided to voice his opinions to Rex.
“I am concerned that the Jedi have elected this child to lead the group.”
Ahsoka pursed her lips, but otherwise gave no sign of having overheard.
“I’ve served with her many times, and I… trust her, Captain.” Rex said.
He hesitated just the slightest bit on the word “trust,” his doubt directed more at his word choice than at the trust itself. Ahsoka’s heart squeezed at his defense, even if there was some uncertainty. Despite the strangeness between them, despite his denial of their bond, he trusted her.
Any such distracting thoughts evaporated when a group of super battle droids ambushed their party. They managed to escape, blasting through a wall and taking refuge in a pungent fuel line.
A squad of battle droids met them as soon as they emerged from the fuel line, and Ahsoka and Anakin covered the clones and Tarkin while they made their escape. They blew the fuel line, then made their way to the landing platform to meet up with Obi-Wan and his team.
Ahsoka counted, and Obi-Wan’s team was a man down. The mournful refrain in Rex’s song returned, but once again there was no time for sorrow. The reunited forces fought against the battle droids, struggling to both protect themselves and keep the shuttle in one piece.
Ahsoka deflected another laser blast back at one of the droids, but it plinked uselessly off of the droid’s shield. Across from her, Echo and Fives worked in tandem, expertly taking out another wave of battle droids. Ahsoka was too busy deflecting blasts from aerial droids to see it, but she heard the blast, heard Fives scream Echo’s name, and turned around just in time to see Echo’s charred helmet roll away from the disintegrated shuttle.
“We have to go now,” Obi-Wan said, and Ahsoka obeyed.
The next two to die were both strangers to Ahsoka—one of Piell’s rescued men and another from the 212th. “Keep moving,” Anakin said, and Ahsoka obeyed.
Another of Piell’s men died to a crab droid, then an unarmored officer took a blaster bolt for the odious Captain Tarkin. Then it was Master Piell, taken out by some kind of dog, of all things.
“We don’t have much time. Let’s take this moment to honor him, then we must move on,” Obi-Wan said gravely.
They lowered his body into the lava—something resembling a traditional pyre, at least. Then they moved on to the rendezvous point.
In the chaos of their final retreat, they lost the last of Piell’s men. They nearly lost Tarkin, too, but Ahsoka stabbed Osi Sobeck through the back before he could finish the job. Then the dropship finally arrived and they made their escape.
In the end, only Ahsoka, Anakin, Obi-Wan, Rex, Cody, Fives, and Tarkin survived. Tarkin was the only one that remained of the men they’d planned to rescue. In terms of manpower, it was a net loss. The Nexus Route information had better be worth it.
Ahsoka tapped her feet restlessly against the durasteel floor of the transport, her mind going a parsec a minute at their narrow escape. Cody sat across from her, deep in hushed conversation with Obi-Wan. Anakin talked military philosophy with Captain Tarkin at the far end of the transport, and Ahsoka wrinkled her nose. Fives and Rex were somewhere else in the transport—if Ahsoka had to guess Rex was comforting Fives about Echo.
So many dead. Ahsoka had been in high-fatality battles before, but this had been such a small group, it had felt particularly up close and personal. And these were the best of the best from the 501st and 212th. They were her men.
So many deaths, and only one funeral. How many clone lives were worth one Jedi? Would she have insisted on a funeral if it had been Rex who’d died?
Ahsoka shuddered at the thought. As much as she loved Echo and Charger and the other 501st men who’d been killed, Rex would have been different. He was her zhiyin. Even if her song shifted out of harmony with his, she would always know that at one time they had fit together like the pure notes of a perfect chord. His death would change her song forever, no matter when it happened or how.
The door to the passenger area hissed open and Rex stepped through, his helmet on his hip and a grim expression on his face. His gaze fell immediately to Ahsoka and he moved without hesitation to her side.
He sat down in the seat next to her. “How are you holding up?”
“Me?” Ahsoka choked out. “You and Fives lost Echo. How can you still worry about me?”
Cody looked disapprovingly across the aisle at Ahsoka’s outburst, and Rex shot him an apologetic look. “Let’s talk about this in the mess,” he said to Ahsoka.
Ahsoka followed him to the tiny kitchenette at the back of the transport, where quarters were cramped but at least there was some privacy.
“What’s going on, kid?” Rex asked, leaning against the counter.
A spike of irritation jerked Ahsoka’s brow upward, and she folded her arms. “What do you mean, ‘what’s going on?’ We just lost almost our entire team, men you’ve known since the start of the war, and you seem to think I’m the only one who would be upset.”
The stern line that frequently creased Rex’s forehead deepened. “Clones are used to these kinds of losses. And you were there when General Piell died.”
“Used to these kinds of losses? Don’t give me that, Rex. This was a disaster. A travesty!” Ahsoka said, flinging her hands up in frustration.
White circled the amber of Rex’s irises as his eyes widened. “We completed the mission. This intel could end the war, could save billions of lives.”
“So what are you saying? Are you saying that as long as we win you’re happy? Are you trying to tell me that clones don’t feel anything?”
“What do you want me to say, Ahsoka? Do you want me to cry? I can cry, if you want. I’m not heartless. But what would be the point?”
“I don’t know! But we should at least mourn! They deserve at least that!”
Rex stared at her, wide-eyed, and the anger drained from his face. His heavy brows drew together, pain and vulnerability finally piercing his strict self-control. “You’re right. They deserve that.”
And just like that, Ahsoka’s outrage vanished as well. Her shoulders slumped and she buried her face in her hands, her breath coming out in heavy, dry huffs.
“We can mourn them, kid. Together,” Rex said, his voice barely audible.
Ahsoka nodded. Then Rex’s bare hand rested on her shoulder.
His ever-present melody swelled in her mind, reaching out to her in search of its counterpart. The connection was there, but warped and disjointed by Ahsoka’s self-inflicted isolation. She could still feel how the songs could—should—combine, but it didn’t quite work. And that not-quite-working grated, like 97 degree angles in a square room.
A heaviness built behind her eyes, like she was about to cry. She jerked away, her shoulder escaping his grip, and rubbed at her eyes to mask her discomfort. “I’m sorry, I just… I think I need to be alone.”
“...Alright, kid.”
The hesitation in Rex’s voice was clear, but there was something else, too. She reached out with her feelings and listened for his song, though she couldn’t hear it as clearly now that they didn’t quite match. What she felt there alarmed her.
She looked up and met his eyes, and the hurt shone through their amber depths. He was confused and wounded, and she understood why. Why would she withdraw from him? Why would she want to break something that rang so true? Ahsoka looked away and tightened her arms around her torso. Sometimes she didn’t even know.
“Well, umm, I really should go see how Fives is doing…” Rex said, slowly backing out of the kitchenette. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Rex,” Ahsoka said. Then he was gone.
Ahsoka hopped onto the counter and tucked her feet up on the edge, hugging her knees to her chest. It wasn’t sanitary, she knew, but she didn’t care. She was completely and utterly alone.
Zhiyin was about a spiritual sort of compatibility more than anything physical. To be someone’s zhiyin meant to understand them in a profound way, to fit with them in mind and thought. That didn’t always translate to physical attraction or lust, and plenty of zhiyin were asexual or platonic. So it was entirely under Ahsoka’s own free will and choice that her eyes followed Rex’s body around the training gym.
He grunted with effort, hauling Commander Bly over his shoulder and flipping the other clone onto his back. The wind flew from Bly’s lungs and he gasped, but he smiled and clapped Rex on the shoulder once he’d found his breath again.
“Nice one!” Bly said.
Rex’s mouth barely moved, but Ahsoka could practically feel his smirk from across the room. It was teasing, taunting—the kind of confidence that didn’t need to boast or shout from the rooftops. A bead of sweat trickled down his beautifully angled jaw and he wiped it away, the motion nicely displaying the definition in his arm. Ahsoka couldn’t help but stare. She almost never saw him out of his armor.
Rex looked up from Bly and his eyes met hers. She jerked her head in a different direction—any direction. And instead she was staring into Aayla Secura’s knowing eyes.
“Uh, I think I’m done with our break, Master Secura. Shall we continue?” she asked. She hopped up to her feet, drew her lightsabers, and hoped that Master Secura would give her this out. She’d been wanting to learn from the master duelist, anyway.
Master Secura shook her head. “Dueling requires a clear head, and thoughts free of distraction.”
“I can do that, Master, I swear!”
Master Secura motioned Ahsoka into a practice hall off the main gym that was generally reserved for lighstaber training, and Ahsoka heaved a sigh of relief. But once inside, Aayla didn’t draw her saber. She sat down in the middle of the hall and patted the padded floor next to her, an eyebrow raised expectantly.
Sighing in defeat, Ahsoka extinguished her sabers and folded herself down next to Master Secura.
“Did you talk to Master Tii already?” Master Secura asked.
Ahsoka looked at her askance. “...About what?”
“She is one of the best among us at conquering attachments, and I thought you might have sought her advice.”
Ahsoka’s shoulders sagged and she clasped her hands together over her ankles. “Yeah, I talked to her.”
“And have you been using the techniques she taught you?”
“Yeah.”
Silence reigned between them for a while, and Ahsoka looked out the transparent door that separated the saber hall from the main gym. Rex was still there, going another round with Bly. It was strange, she knew that Rex was nearly identical to every other clone in the GAR, but somehow he looked different to her. She looked away.
“It’s not easy, what we try to do.” Master Secura said. “Attachments can feel natural. Sometimes we may even feel as if the Force itself wills them.”
Something about Master Secura’s tone hinted at personal experience, and Ahsoka tilted her head up towards her. Master Secura was smiling, but her mouth had a slightly bitter taste to it. Ahsoka reached out for her song, but she got nothing from Master Secura’s restrained, steady beat. It reminded her very much of Master Tii’s song.
“But we aren’t like other people,” Master Secura continued. “We’ve been given a great gift, and that gift can either bless or curse the galaxy, depending on our actions. To feel closest to the Force, to embrace the Light and turn from the Dark, we must learn to school our passions.”
Ahsoka’s eyes squeezed shut and she grabbed the feet folded in front of her and squeezed. It might be presumptuous to ask, but she had a hunch, and she had to know. “Does it get easier?”
Master Secura looked down at Ahsoka, one delicate eyebrow raised, then her eyes flitted for the briefest moment back to the main gym where Rex and Bly were still sparring. She sighed, the sound a deep, heavy sound Ahsoka felt in her bones.
“I hope so.”
Anakin’s office on the Venator was cramped, as all space on a naval ship was, so Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Cody, and Rex crowded around his table for the debrief.
“And then General Kenobi and I were able to take out the slavers,” Rex said, hands behind his back and expression firm despite the abuse he’d endured at the hands of his captors and mounting sleep deprivation.
Ahsoka pursed her lips and tapped her finger against her forearm. If it were up to her Rex never would have come on this mission in the first place. It was a dark, wretched assignment—a front row seat to the very most depraved beings in the galaxy. It wasn’t something she wanted for Rex right after Umbara.
He’s tough, Snips. Don’t underestimate him. Ahsoka’s grimace only grew at the memory of Anakin’s response to her concerns. She didn’t question Rex’s abilities. She had no doubt that he would complete the mission, and better than practically any other clone in the GAR. But just because he could do something didn’t mean he should. She didn’t want to subject him to unnecessary pain.
“Excellent work there, Rex. I have to admit, things didn’t quite go according to plan. But you and Obi-Wan made it work,” Anakin said.
Rex simply nodded his thanks, and Ahsoka looked at him sideways. Maybe she’d been wrong. He seemed fine. Just as stoic and powerful as ever. She closed her eyes and listened for his song, trying to judge how he was really feeling, but it didn’t work. She could hear him, but the melody was opaque and cryptic. That was her fault. She’d continued her meditations, continued pruning and molding her song away from his, and she’d grown increasingly distant from him.
“Ahsoka?”
“Huh?” Ahsoka said.
Anakin looked up at her expectantly. “It’s your turn to report.”
“Oh…” Ahsoka’s lekku flushed blue. “Um, sorry, it’s been a long day.”
“No problem. Go ahead.”
“Well, you were there with me for most of the assault on Kadavo, Master. But as for when we were separated, I found the Togruta colonists and opened up the floor underneath them. I helped them get to the cables and caught one who nearly fell. Then everyone got aboard the cruiser and we left.”
“Great. I’ll compile these debriefs and send a report to the Chancellor. I know he was personally interested in these colonists,” Anakin said. “Dismissed.”
Ahsoka left Anakin’s office, her thoughts still in a muddle. Was this how it always felt to separate oneself from their zhiyin? By now there was no doubt her meditations were working. Her song was different now, still her but more reserved and composed. When she meditated and sank deep into the chords of her melody, it reminded her more and more of Master Ti’s. Ahsoka knew if she continued down this path, eventually she wouldn’t feel anything special from Rex’s song at all. That was the goal, and it now felt attainable.
It was late and she should probably get some sleep, but Ahsoka knew if she went to sleep now her thoughts would scatter and ward away sleep. She went instead to one of the small meditation rooms the ship provided. She sat down on the soft carpet—the only carpeting that she knew of aboard the cruiser—and closed her eyes. Her mind had only barely begun the process of emptying when a knock sounded at the door. Ahsoka opened her eyes.
It was Rex, but he didn’t seem himself. Uncertainty wrinkled his forehead, and his cheeks were ruddier than normal. She opened the door to the meditation chamber for him.
“Hey, what’s up?” She asked.
He drew his mouth to a line, his jaw setting like he was about to dress down an unruly shiny. Ahsoka’s brow markings rose.
“...Rex?”
He clasped his hands behind his back and his chin fell to his chest. He didn’t meet her gaze. “Umbara was… tough.”
“Yeah, I heard. I’m so sorry. That a Jedi would… I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Commander.”
“Maybe I didn’t do it, but it was one of my Order that did that. I can’t believe Anakin asked you to go on this mission, right after Umbara.”
“I told General Skywalker that I was perfectly fit for the mission.”
“I know that, but I still don’t think he should have asked you.”
“Well, I have to respectfully disagree. This is my job, what I was made to do.”
Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at him. “Then what did you come here to talk about?”
He shut his mouth, a heat high on his cheeks. “I, uh, just wanted to sit with you, Commander.”
“...What?” she said.
Rex avoided her gaze and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I know you’ve been keeping your distance from me, and I respect that, but I… I feel better when I’m near you. I’ll be alright soon, I can stay on active duty, I swear. But just today… Can I sit with you?”
Ahsoka’s eyes softened. “Of course,” she said, her voice barely audible in the silence of the noise-cancelled room.
She pulled another meditation cushion from a shelf in the corner of the room and dropped it to the ground next to her. She sat down and patted the cushion, and Rex carefully lowered himself down at her side.
A healthy distance separated them in the small room, but Ahsoka felt Rex immediately relax. His song shifted to a slower, more even tempo and some of the oppressive bass notes receded. He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath through his nose.
Ahsoka looked at Rex out of the corner of her eye, her heart dropping at the sight of his clenched jaw. She couldn’t think of a single time when Rex had shown his distress before, to anyone. He’d been through some difficult campaigns, had toughed out some of the harshest, most brutal missions, and held back any sign of burnout. Until today.
Ahsoka set her hand down on the floor between them, then inched her fingers closer and closer to his. She braced herself for the dissonance that might result when they touched, now that she had altered her song, then rested her hand on his.
The painful discord she expected never came. There was still some dissonance, a result of Master Tii’s meditations, but the peace and comfort were stronger. A bruise Ahsoka hadn’t realized was there in her heart eased, and she saw that even if they were no longer zhiyin, she and Rex would always be friends.
“Thank you,” Rex said, and Ahsoka couldn’t tell if he’d said it aloud or if she’d heard it through their duet. The sentiment was communicated regardless.
She squeezed his hand and let her eyes fall closed. She settled further into her meditation pose and let her mind empty, simply bathing in the luxury of her song and Rex’s combined.
The balance of Ahsoka’s gait felt off without the weight of her lightsabers at her hips. She’d get used to it, eventually.
She marched towards the RCMO along the neon-lit, chaotic streets of Coruscant. She’d barely ever gone on foot in the giant city before, but the RCMO wasn’t far from the Jedi Temple, and she couldn’t use Jedi resources to call a cab or borrow a speeder any more.
She’d left the Jedi Order. She could hardly believe it, though the absence of her Padawan beads dangling at the back of her lekku was a constant reminder of her new lot in life. Her new lot in life, which was… unknown. What was she now, now that she wasn’t a Jedi?
Ahsoka shook her head. It didn’t matter, anyway. What’s done is done. She only had one thing she needed to do before leaving her life here behind.
She reached the RCMO and skirted along the perimeter towards the side entrance nearest the 501st’s barracks. She didn’t know how she’d be able to contact anyone in the GAR now that she’d left the Order, and she needed to say goodbye.
And maybe it could be a new start as well as an end? She was starting her new life outside of the Order, a life without the Code. A life where attachments are no longer forbidden, a voice she’d been holding back for years whispered. She still felt too young and inexperienced for anything so heavy as soulmates, but maybe a foundation could be laid.
Her gait showed and a silly smile rose to her lips as she thought of Rex—his odd hair, his beat up helmet he refused to replace, his firm jaw, and his warm eyes. Amidst the terror and sadness of leaving the Order, the thought of singing her song unburdened with him was a shining beacon of hope, the only light illuminating a future she could imagine.
The red lights above the high-security door of the side entrance pulsed menacingly, but Ahsoka approached the control panel with confidence. She held her expression steady in front of the scanner and a green light whirred up and down over the contours of her face before blinking red with an angry beep.
What?
Ahsoka checked the console. Access denied. Unauthorized personnel.
That was strange. She tried entering her manual code, but was met with another angry beep. Ahsoka Tano: no rank, no position. Access denied.
No rank, no position. She was no longer a part of the GAR and not allowed into their buildings any more. She’d known that would happen, but this fast? In the time it had taken her to walk from the Jedi Temple to the RCMO?
She punched in Anakin’s code, but she failed when the console asked for a follow up key. She guessed his follow up key until the console locked her out. She considered finding one of the Coruscant Guard to let her in, but there was no way they’d agree to it. Their unit was notoriously disciplined and didn’t particularly like her right now, acquittal or no.
Rex’s rare, hard-earned smile faded from Ahsoka's mind and she grit her teeth. She rested her forehead against the cold metal door, utterly defeated. Their debrief a few days ago would be the last time she saw him for the foreseeable future, and she hadn’t even known it. What had been the last thing she’d said to him? Something stupid and petty, like if I’d been there it would have only taken twenty minutes to clear the clankers out!
She slowly let her head slide down the door as she collapsed to the floor, legs akimbo and back bent. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to cry as the reality of the very concrete way in which her old life was now shut off to her sunk in. Her fevered, wishful thoughts from earlier returned, bringing a bitter laugh to her throat. How had she ever thought that she and Rex could be together? As zhiyin? The only way to associate with a clone was to be a part of the GAR, and the only way Ahsoka could be a part of the GAR was as a Jedi. Whether she was in or out, she could never be with him like that.
She closed her hands into fists and her hard knuckles pressed against the immovable door. Maybe this was for the best, that she couldn’t say goodbye. It would only make things harder, anyway. The Jedi Order had become too proud, was too convinced of its ability to fix everything and of its unassailable righteousness. But some things couldn’t be fixed.
The yellow light of the sun gave way to the neon glow of the Coruscant night, and Ahsoka found the strength to leave. She turned her back on the RCMO and walked out to one of the main lifts to the lower levels. A solo performance is just as lovely as a duet, she thought to herself while her lift sank deeper and deeper beneath the upper levels of Coruscant. But never before had her song sounded so plaintive and alone.
Everything on the Venator felt familiar in the strange way of dreams. The same but not the same, a piece of the past that didn’t quite mesh with the present. Then she saw the orange-and-white of Rex’s new helmet, and though it wasn’t an image she’d seen before, it felt like home.
Which was why her face fell when she met Rex in the briefing room en route to Mandalore.
“Oh, what happened to your new helmet?”
Rex—Commander Rex, now—looked down at the helmet at his hip and shrugged sheepishly.
“I’m just too used to the old one, I suppose. The newer models updated the HUD and I’m not as fast with it,” he said. “Plus, I wouldn’t want to mess up the paint job on the new helmet.”
Ahsoka smiled. “I can understand that. Change can be hard.”
“Can we get started, already? We’re dropping out of hyperspace in only a few hours,” Bo-Katan said, her tone as sharp as her bob.
“Of course,” Rex said, back to business.
They went over the plans for the siege, a map of Mandalore hovering over the console and marking Maul’s strongest defensive positions. Ahsoka forced herself to focus, resisting the temptation to reach out for Rex’s song. She didn’t have time to wonder how it had changed, how he had changed over this past year.
“If we’re all clear on the plan, I’ll go get my team up to speed,” Bo-Katan said after a thorough discussion of angles of attack, flanking positions, and more.
“Sounds good,” Ahsoka said, and Bo-Katan left the room with a nod and a sneer that Ahsoka was beginning to interpret as affectionate.
“Let me get you set up with a 501st comm,” Rex said. “Or, I suppose the 332nd now.”
He led her to a supply room a few hallways down from the hangar bay. Dim lights illuminated rows and rows of white helmets, black undersuits, and blaster rifles. He walked her to the back of the room, where the communications equipment was stored.
Now that the serious business was done, Ahsoka indulged in her senses, reaching out to Rex and listening for his song. It wasn’t easy to hear without touching him, and she wondered if maybe Anakin had taught him to guard himself. Or maybe she was rustier than she’d thought.
“Got it,” Rex said after rummaging around in a storage bin. He pulled the strap with the comm attached out of the bin and approached Ahsoka, raising an eyebrow in question before tying the strap around her forearm guard.
As soon as the warm fabric of his gloves touched her skin, the music of his soul overwhelmed her. It was different from before. He’d learned a lot in the past year, and so had Ahsoka. Both of their melodies had matured and deepened, with subtler harmonies and more complex progressions. Somehow, despite these changes, they seemed to fit together better than ever. Ahsoka hadn’t consciously tried to alter her song since leaving the Order, and this was the result. This harmony, this symphony of souls, this euphony of the heart.
In the duet of their combined songs, Ahsoka saw herself more clearly. She was older now, more experienced and more determined than ever to use her skills to protect the weak. There was a fierceness to her that she hadn’t even seen herself, and it was beautiful, if a little frightening. And then Rex, his melody was full of hope—not the naive hope of one who didn’t know any better, but the stubborn belief of a man who has seen the darkness of the galaxy but refused to give up. It was beautiful. They were beautiful.
The comm was securely wrapped around her forearm, but Rex didn’t move his hand away. Ahsoka’s eyes fell first to his fingers grasped tightly around her guard, then trailed up to his face. His amber eyes bored into hers, a confusion and a sense of wonder drawing his pupils wide.
“...Ahsoka?”
She couldn’t look away from his amber eyes. Ahsoka. Not “little’un” or “Commander.”
“Rex…”
She took a half step closer to him, breaking into the circle of professional distance they’d nearly always maintained between them. She hardly noticed. The movement had felt as inevitable as a moon falling constantly towards its planet. Rex’s grip loosened on her forearm and he slid his fingers up her arm, to the bare skin of her upper arm. The music crescendoed and Ahsoka fell further into his orbit. He moved his hand to her lek, his fingers resting gently against it near her cheek, and she stopped breathing.
Before she knew it her mouth was on his, her hands holding his face and her front pressed against his chestplate. She hardly knew what she was doing, but the music guided her, easing her further into his embrace and deeper into his heart. Their duet swelled and soared, like the whole universe was in celebration. The melody seemed to guide Rex as well, as his tentative kisses gradually transitioned to something deeper and more full.
Ahsoka sighed and slid one hand to the back of Rex’s head, her fingers savoring in the drag and pull of the short hair there. Hair was still so foreign to her, but nothing about Rex could feel foreign in this moment. He was the one who understood her song.
She gently scratched her nails along his scalp and he gasped, the unexpected sound sending a thrill of excitement through Ahsoka’s stomach. She was pretty sure no one living had ever heard that sound before, and she wanted to inspire it over and over again.
Rex pressed her backwards and her back thudded against the shelf of helmets behind her. Rex pulled away from her in surprise, his face flushed and his breath broken. His comm crackled to life and he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Capt- er, Commander Rex? This is Jesse. Equipment check is completed, sir.”
“Oh, uh, yes. Thank you Jesse, I’ll be right over,” Rex said into his comm, the fluster obvious in his voice.
Ahsoka grinned at him, and his flush deepened. “I should, uh, probably get going,” he said, his hand rubbing nervously at the back of his neck.
“Go ahead, Commander. Wouldn’t want to keep your men waiting,” Ahsoka said with a smirk.
“Ah, yes. I’ll go do that,” he said, giving her one last sidelong glance before retreating from the storage room.
Ahsoka watched him go, a stupid smile on her face. It was a shame they couldn’t continue this now, but there would be plenty of time later. What a thought. How long had it been since she’d been genuinely excited about the future?
Hyperspace hurtled past the front window, but Ahsoka was at peace. Maul was imprisoned, Mandalore was free, the war looked to be on the brink of ending, and she was with Rex. She thought back to their conversation just now on the bridge, about the war, what they regretted, and what they didn’t. As much as Ahsoka and Anakin had in common, she no longer felt like he understood her. She and Anakin had grown apart, while she and Rex, despite their long separation, had grown together.
Then suddenly, the peace shattered. The Force raged and roared, a cacophony of discordant sounds battling for supremacy. Voices—Anakin’s, the Chancellor’s, and was that Master Windu’s?—echoed through the Force in a web of explosive chaos. Then suddenly, the Force fell silent.
Ahsoka reached out for Rex’s reassuring beat, a sound she’d become increasingly familiar with over their past few days together, but it was gone. It wasn’t muted, it wasn’t dissonant, it hadn’t drifted over time along with the vicissitudes of his life. It was just gone.
Ahsoka ran for the briefing room and the doors opened in front of her to reveal Rex, his back turned. Relief flooded through her. He was alive and well. She didn’t know why she suddenly couldn’t hear him, but they could figure that out later.
“Rex, it’s Anakin,” she said, “I feel like something terrible has happened.”
Rex kept his back to her but his fingers trembled in their vice-like grip on his helmet.
“...Rex?”
The clones flanking her turned towards her and brought their blasters to firing position. Ahsoka backed away slowly, afraid to startle anyone in the increasingly intense atmosphere.
“No!” Rex’s voice cut through the tension, harsh and cold. He turned around, his eyes devoid of warmth. “I’ll do it.”
Ahsoka’s eyes widened, her heart clenching with an all-too-familiar loneliness. Whatever was happening, her zhiyin was gone.
The whole fabric of the Force felt off. Out of balance, off-kilter, out of tune. And that wrongness extended to Ahsoka’s relationship with Rex.
“Are you sure this is the right docking bay?” Rex said under his breath, pulling his drab brown cloak tighter over his head.
“Yeah. They said they’d meet us here at three,” Ahsoka said. Her eyes darted right and left and she prayed that her contacts hadn’t led her into a trap. The people she’d met during her time with the Martez sisters hadn’t exactly been reputable, but they needed to offload this Y-Wing yesterday. There was no way they could travel unnoticed in a stolen Republic bomber,
Rex nodded and returned to his surveillance of the docking bay door, his eyes sharp and vigilant. He made no move to close the healthy gap between them. They hadn’t touched since their crash landing on that unknown moon two weeks ago, and that didn’t seem likely to change any time soon. You could fill a black whole with all the unspoken pain between them.
A noisy whirring filled the air and Ahsoka looked up to see an rusty Alderaanian light freighter descending from above. She raised her hand to block off the windy landing, then eyed the freighter with a judgmental eye. It was ugly, and definitely worth a lot less than their Y-Wing, but they couldn’t afford to be picky right now. A piece-of-junk ship would be less conspicuous, anyway.
A trio of shifty-looking Rodians emerged from the freighter, their clothes greasy and their tech mismatched. Ahsoka walked up to them and Rex trailed behind, tension radiating off of him as he shoved his head further into his cloak.
“You Ashla?” one of the Rodians said.
“That’s me. Latti, right?” Ahsoka said.
“Yeah. We saw your Y-Wing over in docking bay 20. Looks good. If you want we can make the trade right now.”
“We’d like a tour of the freighter first.”
Latti nodded. “Fair.” She turned and led them up the ramp and into the dank freighter. Rex followed closely behind Ahsoka, his hand on his blaster and his eyes constantly darting around.
The freighter was old and run-down, but all the essential parts were there. There was still a chance they were being swindled, of course—Ahsoka had only learned so much about hyperspace-capable ships during her time with the Martez sisters. They’d just have to risk it.
Latti finished the tour in the cockpit and dropped herself into the pilot’s seat, swiveling it around to face them. “Well? Do we have a deal?”
Ahsoka exchanged glances with Rex. He nodded.
“We’ll take it,” she said.
She held her hand out to Latti and the Rodian took it and shook. Ahsoka expected her to get up and leave them to their new ship, but she stayed seated, her eyes sliding over to Rex.
“He’s a clone, right?”
Ahsoka’s jaw clenched. “Our business is done. Let’s leave it at that.”
Latti’s protruding mouth twisted over to the side. “I’m no informant, but if he’s the main person who needs a new ship, I might have a place for you on my crew.”
“...What?” Ahsoka said.
“You heard me. I’ve heard good things about you, Ashla. The clone will probably get farther on his own, anyway.”
Ahsoka blinked blanky at her. Leave? With this crew of shady Rodians? Before she even had a chance to process the question Rex stepped between her and Latti.
“No, thanks. You should probably get off of our ship, now,” he said.
The Rodian shrugged. “Your choice.”
She got to her feet and dropped the ownership chit onto the chair. Then she and her crew left the ship, and it was just Ahsoka and Rex in their very own, decades-old Alderaanian freighter.
The silence was deafening.
Rex dropped into the copilot’s seat and swiveled the squeaky chair around to face Ahsoka. She kept standing in a daze, her sightless eyes staring out the cloudy front window.
“We’ve got the docking bay for the whole night cycle, so we can get settled here before leaving,” Rex said.
Confused images seemed to play out across the murky surface of the window, images of clone troopers, orange helmets, Maul and his yellow eyes. Other images communicated less concrete ideas—guilt, pain, regret, the knowledge that she had permanently destroyed something beautiful, the absence of any idea how she could have done things differently.
“Ahsoka?”
“Maybe I should go with them,” she said.
Rex’s chair stopped squeaking. “...What?”
“She’s right, you have a much better chance of avoiding attention without me.”
Rex leaned forward in the chair. “Don’t give me that, what is this really about?”
“I just think you might be better off without me.”
The muscle under Rex’s eye twitched, and as much as Ahsoka tried to block out his song the painful lento washed over her. She squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around her middle.
She couldn’t see his face but she could imagine it, his mouth clenched tight and his amber eyes icy despite their warm color. “Better off without you? Ahsoka, I… I don’t understand what’s going on. I’ve just lost everything, do I have to lose you, too?”
“You lost everything because of me, Rex!”
“No, that’s-”
“Tell me. Tell me the ship wouldn’t have crashed if I hadn’t let Maul out. Tell me you weren’t forced to pick between them and me.”
“I was forced, but not by you.”
“I may not have forced you, but what choice did you have? I know you only picked me because I’m your zhiyin!”
The crease between Rex’s eyebrows deepened and he frowned at her, genuine confusion clouding his eyes. “My what?”
Ahsoka blinked. Whatever response she was expecting, it wasn’t that. “Your… your zhiyin.”
Rex looked up at her, his eyes wide and innocent. “I don’t know what that is.”
Understanding slowly dawned on Rex. Why would the GAR bother to teach their soldiers a concept as romantic and unproductive as soulmates? And if they didn’t learn it from the classrooms on Kamino, who would teach them? Certainly not their Jedi generals.
“Zhiyin is… it’s a person who understands you, a person who can hear the music of your soul. A person whose song matches yours. I could tell from the time you caught me when I was sick with the Blue Shadow Virus that you were mine. You didn’t feel it?”
Rex clasped his hands together, his knuckles going white from his tight grip. “I felt something, but I didn’t know what it was. I knew it was special, but I had no idea there was a name for it.”
So many things made sense in Ahsoka’s head now. How could Rex have acknowledged their connection if he didn’t even know what it was? He’d been working purely off of her cautious, cagey signals, signals she’d always been very murky with until they’d reunited for the Siege of Mandalore. But as much as this revelation illuminated the past, it did little to change the present.
“Regardless, you have these… unique feelings, because of this connection. So… so picking me over your brothers was never really a choice. It’s not fair. I can feel your anger, and I’m drowning in my guilt. I don’t think there’s anything we can do but go our separate ways.”
“It was a choice, Ahsoka!” Rex said, rising to his feet. “And it wasn’t a choice between my brothers and you. It was a choice between doing what’s right and what’s wrong. I would never kill an innocent just because it was easier. And neither would any of my brothers, if they had had the ability to choose. Choosing to protect you, as painful as it was, was the best way I could think to honor them. To honor the clones, and the kind of people we were.”
“Can you really say you don’t blame me, even a little bit? Even about Maul?”
Rex winced and turned his head to the side. “I do, a little. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Maul hadn’t escaped. But you had no way of knowing what would happen, and I won’t let it take you away from me. If I hold that against you, I gain nothing and I lose what little I have left.”
Ahsoka’s fists balled at her sides as she felt the last strings of determination that had held her together these past weeks fall apart. She stumbled forward, nearly falling to the ground, but Rex caught her. With his arms around her, unarmored and blood-warmed, their powerful duet returned. Comfort, peace, understanding, it all surrounded her like a warm bath of bacta.
“How can you forgive me?” she sobbed into his chest.
“I nearly shot you. If you can forgive me for that, I can forgive you.”
He wrapped his arms around her and she let her full weight rest against his broad chest. “It’s not just because… You don’t feel stuck with me just because we’re zhiyin?”
He set his hands on her shoulder and pulled back from her, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “I don’t need to know anything about zhiyin or complementary songs or the Force to know that I love you. Whatever comes, I want to face it together.”
She rested her hands on either side of his face and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. His face, so beloved, smiled back at her. He was alive. They were both alive. And she was done denying either of them happiness.
“I love you, too.”
He pulled her close and kissed her, a soft, passionate kiss. His heart beat against her chest, the steady rhythm providing the beat for their melded melody. She knew that this was how she wanted to live the rest of her life.