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Obi-Wan’s pretty pleased with his padawan.
He’s never had time for one before. As soon as Qui-Gon had died, he’d been knighted, and then he’d just… started moving and never quite stopped. He’s certainly considered taking a padawan before, like when he saw Quinlan’s pride in Aayla, or Siri ruffling Ferus’s hair, but he’s just… never had the time. Obi-Wan’s good at his job, good at what he does, good in the field, and those are all skills he’d love to pass on, yes, but it’s always been too dangerous to take on a student before. Nobody can keep up with him without their life being put into danger. Bringing a teenager into that, or even younger, would be… bad.
Beyond that, he’s never quite felt the pull to any student, like the others. He knows plenty of knights who saw an Initiate, or even a youngling, and just knew, but he’d never felt that until he’d been a knight for almost eight years, which is somewhat more than most knights give it. Then, two years ago, he’d passed by Plo’s little Togruta friend, and just… known.
So now he has Ahsoka. The timing’s absolutely awful, really, but at least he’d had a few years to teach her how to fight before the war really kicked in. This mess with the Hutts was her first real mission without him, and he’s been more worried for her in that time than ever before, but she’d made it through. She’d made him proud. He’s going to hug her so tight she can’t breathe when they get back on the ship, but that’s fine.
Obi-Wan lets Jabba talk, jaw clenched against the smell and trying not to show his distaste for the Hutt as a person. He hates this mission, for a lot of reasons, and it’s not the kind of hate he can just rationalize away. The Hutts are slavers, true monsters, but refusing to enact a non-aggression treaty for access to their hyperlanes is liable to result in billions of deaths, and that’s just on Republic planets. There are too many planets in Hutt and Separatist territories, and even if there weren’t… secure supply lines win wars.
He’d learned as much on Melida/Daan, and the year on Mandalore had only confirmed that. It’s a lesson he’s learned time and time again, and he’d stressed it to the Council and Chancellor. Of course, they’d then assigned him to this mess of a mission, which is really his own fault, but at least he’s minimizing the loss of life.
He tells himself that, over and over again, to make it through treating with Jabba.
“Jabba would be most appreciative if you bring Dooku to justice for his crimes against the Hutts,” the protocol droid continues, and Obi-Wan struggles not to roll his eyes. Yes, for Jabba’s sake, for crimes against the Hutts. “And as a sign of the mighty Jabba’s gratitude, he gifts you this slave to do with as you wish.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes widen, a breath sucking in between his teeth, though it’s still quieter than Ahsoka’s little gasp.
I can’t say that the Jedi don’t keep slaves, or they’ll try to argue about the clones.
“The Mighty Jabba does, of course, know that any slave he gives us will be freed,” Obi-Wan says, pressing his lips thinly as a guard brings forward a young human man with a scar over one eye and unruly blond curls. The man looks annoyed, side-eyeing the guard as they push him along, a bag of random belongings on one arm. “We will gladly see him to what life he wishes.”
Jabba speaks again, and Obi-Wan hates that he has to wait for the droid to translate. “The Mighty Jabba does not offer this whelp to you for your own use or his freedom, but to spite Dooku. The Count showed interest in him, believing he would be useful. The Great and Venerable Jabba believes that the Jedi would also like to keep a potential weapon out of Dooku’s hands.”
Oh, that’s already worse. Obi-Wan looks to the young man again—not only annoyed now, but tired of the politics, certainly—and tries to feel him out in the Force.
He shines. No wonder Dooku was interested.
“I see,” he says. “That is… most generous of you.”
“The Mighty Jabba agrees that he is most generous,” the droid says, “but he assures you that he would not be willing to part so easily with such a skilled slave, especially to its freedom, but for spiting Dooku and for the slave being… damaged goods.”
“Damaged?” Ahsoka pipes up before he can stop her. “Does he need medical treatment? I can comm a medic!”
Child, no.
That’s not what they mean.
The guard pokes the young man with the butt of their blaster. “Show them.”
The slave… rolls his eyes. His back is to Jabba and his lackeys, so presumably he’s not worried about getting punished for something they can’t see. He turns to Obi-Wan, disdain radiating from behind the mostly-placid expression, and opens his mouth. He sticks out… well. He doesn’t stick out his tongue, as there is not enough of it left to stick out.
It’s been removed.
Ahsoka gasps, louder than before, her hands coming up to cover her mouth in horror.
“I see,” Obi-Wan says, keeping his tone as even as he can. “That won’t be an issue.”
“This slave attempted to run from Jabba’s employ several years ago,” the guard tells them, grimly amused. “He was… mouthy when we got him back, and punished accordingly.”
Yes, Obi-Wan rather imagines that it isn’t easy, or even possible, to speak with such a mutilation.
The guard pokes the boy forward again, a gun to the back. “Go on, boy. Greet your new masters appropriately.”
“There’s no need for that,” Obi-Wan says, stepping forward before someone can get more rough than they are. “Ahsoka, can you take our new friend to the gunship and get started on the deactivation of his chip?”
“On… what?”
“We’re on Tatooine, padawan,” Obi-Wan explains. He wishes he didn’t have to. “The slaves here are chipped. Explosives. I’d like to get it deactivated before the medics remove it.”
“…oh,” Ahsoka says. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“I’m sure our new friend does,” Obi-Wan says. The guard is smiling at him, nasty and leering. Ugh. “If you can’t set up a line of communication for whatever reason, or can’t figure it out safely, just wait for me.”
“But Obi—”
“Ahsoka.”
She does as he says, leaving him alone with his highest-ranking troopers and Jabba’s court. He deals with the negotiation as he can, and then they finally get to leave. Cody bumps his shoulder with his own, and offers the helmeted equivalent of a grim but supportive smile, which is a very specific sort of nod.
They make it back to the ship, some awful and ugly rattling mess they’d stolen from Ventress. Ahsoka’s got a datapad between her and the young Tatoo man, and he’s pointing to something on it. Obi-Wan observes them for a moment, and then Ahsoka looks up and waves him closer.
“Master, we’ve got a communication issue,” she says.
He doesn’t make a face. He’d like to, but he doesn’t. “I’m not entirely surprised. What’s the situation?”
“Well, okay, first thing’s first, this is Anakin Skywalker,” Ahsoka says, pointing at the young man. “He’s about twenty right now, and he’s been with Jabba for the last seven years because he won a pod race when he was a kid, and then proved himself as a mechanic.”
Obi-Wan nods. “It’s nice to meet you properly, Mister Skywalker. I am Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, though you may refer to me as General Kenobi or Obi-Wan if that’s more comfortable for you. You’ve already been introduced to my padawan, I see, and these two are Marshall Commander Cody and ARC Captain Rex.”
Anakin waves, with a thin, what-can-you-do smile and a shrug.
“Right, so, we got a list down,” Ahsoka says, turning the datapad. “Anakin understands Basic and Huttese fluently in spoken and written forms, but his spelling’s a bit shaky for non-mechanical subjects. He can understand spoken Ryl and Jawaese, but has trouble with writing it. But the, uh, the incident with his tongue was only three years ago? And we’re on Tatooine, so, um… he doesn’t know Galactic Sign, Master. He knows Tusken Sign and Bocce, and since I only ever learned GSL and Bocce Sign, we’ve mostly been using the latter, and writing things on the datapad. He can fingerspell in GSL since it’s the same in Bocce, and a few other things that are the same from one to the other, but… yeah, GSL is mostly a no-go.”
Anakin pokes at something on said datapad again.
Ahsoka glances down, and then back up. “Huttese doesn’t have a sign language, but the slaves at the Palace had their own set of… I think it’s called home sign? They had their own set of signs for those that were punished the way Anakin was. But since Anakin didn’t really interact with offworlders unless he was fixing their ships after he got his removed, he did everything through Bocce Sign with them, and the main sign language on Tatooine is Tusken, so most of his communication at markets and stuff was Tusken Sign.”
“Don’t say ‘and stuff,’ padawan,” Obi-Wan says, a touch absentminded. “Alright. Anakin—may I call you that, or would you prefer Mr. Skywalker?”
A quick sign of Bocce, “Yes, Aurek is good.”
“Anakin, then,” Obi-Wan says. “Is there any family you have on Tatooine that you’d like to stay with? I recognize the expectation was to come with us, due to Dooku’s involvement, but if you’d rather find and live with your loved ones, we can arrange for it.”
“Safe?” Anakin signs.
“Well… no, I cannot promise you would be safe here,” Obi-Wan says. “But I fear that if you return to the Temple with us for the purpose of safety, then you’d be limited to the Temple, and you may feel just as trapped as you were here.”
Anakin rolls his eyes and grabs the datapad.
Obi-Wan feels oddly comforted by the disrespect.
Id rather spend a few years in your Temple than whatever this Dooku has in mind for me. Im pretty sure it will be better than Jabbas no matter what. but the Jedi are in the Republic, and the Republic doesnt do slavery. I’ll be free, really free as soon as your war is over, yes?
“You’re already free,” Obi-Wan insists. “If Ahsoka didn’t manage to deactivate your chip, I can do so now.”
Anakin taps the datapad pointedly.
“Yes, if you’d like us to ensure your safety from Dooku and whatever interest he has in you, we can keep you at the Temple until the end of the war,” Obi-Wan says. He shifts, because this was not the plan. He hadn’t had a plan for Jabba giving him a slave, especially not one that Dooku had taken enough interest in for it to be obvious to Jabba. “Is… is there anyone you’d like to say goodbye to? I have no idea how long it’ll be before the war is over.”
The datapad again. My mom. I no how to get there with a speeder, if you can get me to Anchorhead.
“I… don’t know where Anchorhead is,” Obi-Wan admits. “But yes, we can do that, if you have directions. Is there anything else you’d like to get before we go?”
Anakin shakes his head.
“Right, then. Quick detour and then we’ll get back aboard the Negotiator.”
--
Rex isn’t the one piloting this bucket of bolts; he lets Ahsoka handle that part. When they land near the farm at Anchorhead, Rex just leans against the wall of the open cargohold and watches as Skywalker is greeted by a small, weathered woman with dark hair. He signs faster than Rex could keep up with even if he knew Tusken, and his mother responds in spoken Huttese, which Rex also doesn’t know. There’s hugging, even for a black protocol droid that totters unevenly across the sands. General Kenobi gets asked to come and speak with the woman, and the conversation continues.
There’s a husband, and a stepson. Those goodbyes are more awkward than the ones with the droid, even. Still, they’re sweet.
“Depressing,” Cody says, bumping their shoulders together, “isn’t it?”
Rex shrugs. “A bit, yeah. Ain’t much we can do about it, though.”
“True,” Cody says. There’s not much to say about it. “Think he’s the type to get annoyed with nothing to do? Might need to find him a job if he’s the fidgety sort.”
“Could always use more mechanics,” Rex acknowledges, “but I think he’ll be pretty busy learning GSL.”
“Tano’s taken a shine to him,” Cody points out. “Might learn GAR field sign before he gets GSL.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Rex says. He doesn’t add on anything else, and they pack up and leave soon enough. The protocol droid stays behind, which he’s vaguely surprised by, but Skywalker seems pretty keen on making friends with Artoo, which is… certainly interesting. The man communicates to the astromech via Sporse tap code in binary, and Artoo delightedly responds. Apparently, Skywalker knows binary and just… didn’t mention it.
They get to the Negotiator, and General Kenobi excuses himself to contact the council for a report. Ahsoka grabs Skywalker’s sleeve and tells him she’s going to give him a tour, because the ship is very large and everyone needs some help the first time aboard. Rex and Cody share a look, and Rex takes off after Ahsoka and her new best friend. Cody follows their General.
Rex is… fond of Ahsoka. She’s small and she bites, which is great, but she’s also already proven herself to be brave and aware of her duty, and fully dedicated to protecting any soldiers she gets paired up with. She’s young, still, and Rex hopes that it won’t last long enough for her to be knighted, but… everyone knows that if and when Ahsoka gets knighted, she’s getting the 501st. They don’t technically have their own Jedi; they have Admiral Yularen, and he’s natborn, but he’s Navy. The majority of his job is networking with other ships, and the supply and maintenance of the ship and onboard staff. The actual army, everyone knows, reports to Rex. In the field, he is the closest thing they have to a general.
Everyone calls him Captain, and it’s one of those things that makes most of the natborns miss his actual ranking. A clone captain, ‘everyone’ knows, commands a company, just a hundred and forty-four troopers. To lead a brigade, like the 501st legion, one needs a Jedi General and a brigade commander. From the outside, the closest thing they have is Appo, who came from a CC batch and shows it.
Rex, however, is ARC-trained. He has the kama and a decorative pauldron. He’s an ARC captain, not just a clone captain, and that puts him outside the normal ranking system of the army. Officially, he only commands a handful of ARC-trained lieutenants, and the regular trooper platoons they’ve taken on. Unofficially… he’s in charge until they get a Jedi.
Even the navy brothers, the engineers and medics and other non-field soldiers, know that the troopers are really his. It’s strange, to a degree, because most of the admiralty aren’t that open to the fact that troopers are actually skilled enough to take leadership positions, but Yularen’s more or less taken Rex’s command in stride. Rex thinks it might just be because, well, his closeness with Cody, and through Cody with General Kenobi, mean he’s got a Jedi’s ear anyway.
The 501st was originally a reshuffled child brigade of the 212th, and a few other major corps. The shinies that had shipped out to fill in ranks after Geonosis had bloated the 212th past capacity, because they’d lost less men than anticipated as the Jedi got their metaphorical balance, and General Kenobi had been more successful at keeping his soldiers alive than most of them. Rex had been given the surplus troopers, and then more from the other legions that had the same overflow, until the 501st had been declared.
Now they’re just… waiting, really. They work with the 212th often enough, but they’re usually just the backup brigade when someone else is in trouble, and there’s already a Jedi on the ground. Depending on how the war goes, someone else might get knighted. Rex should hope for that, because Ahsoka’s too young to be a General, no matter how precocious she is, and no matter the fact that she’s technically older than he is.
He catches up, and keeps his attention on Skywalker’s answer to Ahsoka’s question of ‘how do you sign your name?’
There’s a datapad clipped to his belt. Rex is pretty sure that’s going to see a lot of use until Skywalker learns GSL. He’s pretty sure most, if not all, Jedi learn GSL, so the Temple should be fine for him once he’s there. Maybe they can even get him a prosthetic tongue, if he wants one. Rex has heard that’s a thing.
Skywalker seems more bemused by Ahsoka than anything. They’ve apparently decided on him fingerspelling in Aurebesh whenever he needs a word that Bocce doesn’t have, which is most of them, and then she shows him the sign in GSL as she knows it. Here and there, she adds what it is in battlesign, which cheers her and brings a tight smile to Skywalker’s face.
Pitying, but not quite willing to show it. He had a harder childhood than she did, in many ways; Rex can tell that much. Going into battle to the point where it’s normal, even something to find pride in, isn’t… it’s not something a kid should have. Rex isn’t really an adult himself, but he wants better for her, wants her to be kept out of the firefights until she’s a little less tiny. She’d hate that, though, would hate not being able to help, would hate being told she’s too young, would hate the words she would hear as you aren’t good enough.
Skywalker, for all that this is new to him, isn’t going to insult her by admitting he feels pity. It likely never made him feel any better, either.
“—and we should probably swing by medical to get your chip removed,” Ahsoka says, right as they pass by the nearest nurse’s station. The junior medic on duty looks up, eyes narrowed.
Ahsoka grins nervously and waves.
“I’ll let Bones know we’re on our way,” Rex says, voice dry. “Unless you’d rather grab a shower first?”
Skywalker shakes his head. He fingerspells for emphasis, “M-E-D-I-C.”
“Oh!” Ahsoka chirps, looking oddly delighted. “Okay, okay, so we have four here that sort of mean the same thing. So this sign is GSL for doctor, and healer—that’s basically a Jedi or other Force-sensitive with medical training—and this one is nurse, and then this one is medic, which is field doctors in the army, like Bones and Kix and the other troopers with medical training. We’ve only got one battlesign, though, for medic, and then if you want to say healer, it’s the sign for Jedi—yeah, that one—and then the sign for medic, and if it’s a doctor or nurse, you do the sign for civilian first, which is like this, and then you add the sign for ‘less/lower’ if it’s a nurse, which looks like this.”
“To be clear,” Rex interrupts, “nurses aren’t actually lesser than doctors, but we needed a distinction, and that one came up since they have a shorter training period and usually rank lower in civilian establishments. I really do need to emphasize that.”
Ahsoka whispers loudly, “there were incidents.”
Skywalker raises a brow.
“Some of the troopers got a li’l annoying with a civilian nurse and she reamed ‘em out for it,” Ahsoka reports cheerfully. “So now they’re scared of nurses.”
Skywalker snorts and signs something Rex can’t understand at all. Even Ahsoka has her head tilted and brow furrowed.
“Bocce for, um… message received and logged… oh! ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ right?” She pumps a fist when Skywalker nods. “Score!”
It’s cute. Skywalker seems to agree, since he’s smiling a lot more softly than before.
They make it to medical without incident, and Ahsoka decides to wait in the entry room. Rex joins her.
“You seem to like Skywalker,” Rex notes.
“He shines like a sun,” Ahsoka tells him. She sounds almost dreamy. “Like… he’s angry sometimes, and he can’t hide himself in the Force, and he’ll have to learn more about how to do that, but when he’s feeling okay? It’s like being wrapped in a warm blanket. He’s so bright.”
“I’ll take it that’s a good thing,” Rex says, leaning against the wall next to the chair she’s taken. He drops a hand on her head and wiggles it as if he were ruffling a cadet’s hair, but the montrals just mean her head rocks from side to side. She squeals, laughing, and bats his hand away.
“Do you like him?” Ahsoka asks, peering up at him.
Rex shrugs. It’s not a question he has any kind of ready answer to. “Don’t know him yet. Probably won’t know him much, since he’s going to be staying at the Temple.”
“Yeah,” Ahsoka sighs.
He kicks at the leg of her chair. “Talk to me, kid.”
“It’s nothing! Just… I dunno. Part of me feels like he’s supposed to be here, you know? I’ll have to meditate on it,” she admits. “I don’t know if it’s the Force telling me that, or me wanting it to be true, you know?”
“I do not, but I’ll take your word for it,” Rex says. “You decided on where to room him yet?”
“Mm, yeah, we’ve got a few diplomatic suites,” she says. “Nobody’s using them right now, and I think he’d feel safer if he were by the officers, right?”
“Solid thinking,” Rex says. “But would he feel more or less secure if surrounded by troopers who are armed and ready to defend him if someone shows up?”
To her credit, Ahsoka definitely gives it some thought. She chews her lip and considers it. “I think, since he doesn’t know you yet, and doesn’t know how to use the Force despite having it, he’d probably feel less safe with you than without, but we should probably ask him if he’d rather take a spare bunk with a squad.”
“Good job,” Rex says, wiggling her head again. She snaps her teeth at his wrist, and then giggles when he snatches his hand back. “Rude.”
“I’m a delight, Captain.”
“A brat, you mean.”
“Hey, is that any way to talk to your Jedi?”
“You’re not my Jedi. I’m 501st, we don’t have one.”
She sticks her tongue out at him. He reaches out and feints at pinching it. She jerks back, yelping. “Hey!”
“Oh, hush, that was never going to make contact and we both know it.”
Ahsoka giggles again, kicking her legs back and forth; her toes only barely reach the floor. “Hey, wanna learn some Bocce sign while we wait? That one’s useful even if Anakin doesn’t stay.”
This is true. Rex sighs and drags a chair around, dropping in across from her. “Alright, walk me through the basics.”
They cover a few phrases by the time Bones is done with the surgery and whatever else he’s doing to Skywalker, though Rex has to admit he’s never had the head for languages that Jesse or Bly did. He has to cycle through the phrases repeatedly with Ahsoka to make sure they actually have any chance of sticking, and he foresees downloading a Bocce module, spoken and signed, in his near future. It would be useful, and it’ll make Ahsoka happy.
When Bones finishes up, Rex has his back to the door that swishes open. Ahsoka perks up before Rex turns to see if it’s even Bones and Skywalker, or someone else entirely. There have been a few false alarms, and Rex doesn’t feel like turning around if he doesn’t have to. He’s got a crick in his neck.
“Skyguy!” Ahsoka says, which is… new. The nickname is new. She seems happy about it. “You look good!”
“I told him to grab a shower while we waited for the blood test to process,” Bones explains. “Which… I’m going to need a Jedi Healer’s input on something; I’m pretty sure his midicount is supposed to be physically impossible.”
“Sounds good,” Ahsoka says. “Skyguy, you okay? Wh—it’s a nickname! I think it’s cool.”
Rex finally works the crick out of his neck and turns.
Oh.
Oh no.
Skywalker’s pretty.
He’d been streaked with machine oil, earlier, and had the frizzed-grease look to his hair of someone who cleaned primarily with sonics; there’d been sand in too many places, too, and his clothes hadn’t been in the best shape either. A shower, probably with real water going by the dampness of his hair and droplets on his neck, and a new set of blacks, had done him wonders. He looks refreshed and clean and put-together.
He looks obnoxiously attractive.
Bones shoots him a look. It’s a knowing look, and cautioning. It’s ‘I know what you’re thinking, and don’t you dare.’ It’s ‘keep it in your pants, di’kut, the guy just got here.’
Rex fights down his blush and turns his look down to the baby Jedi he’s been escorting about.
“What? Who are you calling snippy?!”
She’s got her cheeks puffed out in a pout of irritation, and it’s adorable. Her hands are on her hips and everything. When Rex looks up again, Skywalker’s signing at rapid speed with a smirk that could curdle milk. Rex catches maybe one word in ten, and he definitely can’t keep up with the lightning-fast fingerspelled words that Skywalker throws in every little bit, for where the Bocce just isn’t enough.
“Nuh-uh!” Ahsoka protests, to whatever it is that Skywalker’s saying.
He signs again, smug as sin, in a way that Rex is pretty sure meant to be some sort of emphasis.
“Translation?” Bones requests.
“He said that if I’m going to give him a nickname, then he’s giving me one, and it’s gonna be ‘Snips’ and he made a name sign for me and everything,” Ahsoka huffs. “One for my real name, and one for the nickname, and it’s Snips.”
“I think it’s cute,” Rex says. He does not say, I think Skywalker is cute, or I think that smirk on him when he’s teasing you is also cute, and he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t.
“Did you… not have a name in sign before?” Bones asks.
Ahsoka shakes her head. “I sort of had an official name? And I told him that earlier, but it was like… the automatic ‘here’s your initials’ thing that everyone does when they’re learning GSL. I’ve never had a proper name sign, because you don’t pick those yourself unless you’re deaf or mute, you know? Someone you’re close with that uses it as their main language is supposed to pick it for you.”
“Skywalker’s main language isn’t GSL, though,” Rex points out. He glances at Skywalker when he says it, just to see what he thinks, and finds himself being just… looked at. Bright blue eyes and full lips and the faintest furrow in his brows. “It’s… I guess spoken Huttese and Tusken sign?”
Skywalker blinks placidly, and it’s very mocking, in a quiet sort of way. He signs something, slow and careful, and Rex can’t follow it at all.
“He says that all that matters is that his primary language now is sign of some sort,” Ahsoka reports dutifully. “Also he wants to know if there are any deaf or mute clones so he can figure out what they do.”
“I think most of the clones with communication disabilities that can hamper fieldwork either got corrective surgeries or ended up in non-field assignments like Clone Intelligence,” Rex says. “I think any profoundly deaf clones were given cochlear implants as soon as it was identified, and ended up medics or doing data analysis. A few are snipers, I know.”
Skywalker frowns. He signs again, eyes on Ahsoka.
“Uh, do they actually like that?” Ahsoka asks, and she seems as confused as Skywalker, because she tacks on her own question, “I know a few deaf Jedi, and most of them declined corrective surgeries, especially if they were born like that. A few got it fixed if it was a mission injury, like an explosive blasting the eardrum? But… just doing the surgery on every clone seems…”
She makes a face.
“Ahsoka?”
“Ableist,” she finally says. “Because they treated disability as something that needs fixing, instead of something that just is, which I said and then just went ‘oh duh, Kamino,’ because I shouldn’t keep being surprised at how they treated you, but I am.”
Bones grimaces. The medics have definitely seen more of those modifications than most. Rex twists his mouth to one side and claps Ahsoka’s shoulder. “It is what it is. We were made for war, and it’s a lot easier to have your army work in concert when everything is standardized.”
“It’s not right.”
“Not much about our lives is,” Rex says, “and I’m including yours in that, Commander.”
She crosses her arms and huffs. “Still.”
“We’ll get to make decisions about our own healthcare once we’re legally people,” Rex reminds her. “So maybe focus on that part.”
And now her bottom lip is trembling, and her eyes are getting all glossy like she wants to cry. Great.
Rex sighs. “This isn’t new, Commander. Don’t get too cut up about the corrective surgeries for shit that didn’t really need correcting when there’s bigger fish to fry.”
He looks back up at Bones, who’s looking supremely uncomfortable and like he wants to be dismissed as soon as possible, and Skywalker, who’s looking at Rex like he’s a puzzle to figure out.
That’s… a problem for later.
--
“—so, until we get back to Coruscant, Mister Skywalker will be placed with the 501st.”
“Um… Master? Should we really be bringing him to Christophsis at all?” Ahsoka asks.
Obi-Wan wants to rub at the bridge of his nose. He does not, because that would be unprofessional. “No, Ahsoka, we really shouldn’t be bringing a civilian back to an active warzone, but the supply routes aren’t secure to Coruscant, and we don’t know how invested Dooku is in getting ahold of him yet. If he has any idea of the midicount Bones reported, he could be… not desperate, I think, but he is a Sith, and so is Ventress. Unhealthy fixations are… common.”
It’s an understatement of the Sith mindset and an overstatement of the danger, but Obi-Wan doesn’t think he really needs to explain further. They’re all smart people, they know what he means.
Skywalker signs, “I should stay with you and 212, I think.”
It’s mostly Bocce, still, but there’s at least one or two GSL signs that Obi-Wan is sure were introduced by Ahsoka instead of built into the actual pidgin. It’s a bit hard to keep track of, sometimes, given how Bocce actually works, but he thinks he’s got the measure of it.
“They’d be expecting that,” Obi-Wan says, not for the first time.
“They can S-E-N-S-E me, you said,” Skywalker signs. He frowns and looks to Ahsoka, who quickly shows him the GSL for ‘sense’ and ‘feel,’ and then comments that she’s pretty sure the Bocce for ‘detect’ would work in a pinch. Skywalker shrugs in response, because she’s right, but it’s not really that important. Obi-Wan knows that spoken Bocce has a word for ‘sensors,’ but they’re right that the verb is more accurately ‘detect,’ and usually only used in relation to radar maps.
“They can sense your power if they know where you are already, but actually finding you would take some effort. They’d need to be closer than just ‘on the same ship’ to know, and that means obfuscating with which ship you’re on will work. If you’re open to it, I’d also recommend using your time aboard the ship for learning to hide said power,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ll be sending Ahsoka with you and Rex, just in case, and she can teach you how to do basic shielding.”
Ahsoka, when Anakin looks at her, grins brightly and offers him two thumbs up.
Anakin, for his part, casts a glance to Rex, who blinks and shrugs, and turns away.
The casual response is not at all matching the rile of excitement and guilt the captain is experiencing, but Obi-Wan’s fairly certain that is not his business. Anakin’s practically radiating smug curiosity, so that’s… well, that’s not Obi-Wan’s business either. They’ll figure it out, and he’ll just tell Ahsoka to keep an eye out for miscommunications. He’ll give Cody a heads up about it, if he hasn’t noticed already—he probably has, but it’s good to double-check—and then Cody can handle reminding Rex to be careful about whatever strange and uncomfortable power dynamics this might involve, because it sure isn’t simple.
They’ve only just met. It’ll probably pass.
It might not, though. If it doesn’t, and these boys find themselves falling… well, there’s nothing in the books about a soldier and a civilian having a relationship. They can be commpals, maybe, or just meet up whenever the 501st circles back to Coruscant. There are plenty of soldiers who have that kind of friendship with someone back ‘home’ already, or more. It’s usually with other soldiers, granted, since most of them haven’t had the leave time to meet any civilians, but… they’ll figure something out.
“Affirmative,” Anakin signs. “With Captain and—” he does a sign that Obi-Wan doesn’t recognize, something that looks like an amalgamation of ‘little’ and ‘cut’ and maybe one more, though not one he knows.
Ahsoka pouts, and Anakin grins down at her.
Obi-Wan raises a brow at the little group. “Do I want to know?”
“The Commander nicknamed him Skyguy,” Rex explains, “so he’s nicknamed her ‘Snips,’ apparently.”
“Sni—ah! That’s why I saw ‘little cut’ in there,” Obi-Wan realizes. “That’s… yes, I like that. It suits.”
“Master!” Ahsoka whines, face red. “I’m not snippy!”
“You kind of are, little commander,” Cody says, not showing an ounce of his humor as Ahsoka turns her pout on him. “And I imagine you’ll have plenty to snip about as you transfer ships.”
“But—!”
“Cody’s right,” Obi-Wan says. “You should gather your things; you’ll be based with their camp once we reach Christophsis.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
--
Anakin doesn’t hate it here, which is better than he’s had to say about any living situation in the past twenty years, which is his entire life.
It’s not safe, and he doesn’t have his mom, but he’s not going to be killed by the person who owns him, because nobody does own him. He’s pretty sure this is what he once heard a Core-worlder refer to as ‘protective custody,’ which is basically when a victim gets arrested to protect them from the person trying to hurt them. He’s sure the Jedi would argue that, but it’s the quickest analogy he’s been able to come up with.
He got full medical care, instead of just the vaccines Jabba’s people had run to make sure their staff didn’t all randomly keel over and die if the wrong off-world visitor stopped by with a bad virus, and a real, actual water shower, which had felt absolutely glorious. He’s still not sure he used the products correctly, but nobody’s commented on his hair or anything, so he’s pretty sure he got it at least mostly right.
The clones are… definitely slaves. The Jedi may or may not be here willingly, and Anakin still isn’t sure if they’re chain blind or just… putting it off? He thinks they were ordered to be here and agreed because it was the right thing to do, in their minds, but weren’t really given a choice, and probably would have been punished if they hadn’t agreed. He has no idea how to process the Jedi’s role here. He’s not sure how he feels about arguably being the least enslaved person on the ship, somehow. It’s weird and new, and he’s not sure he likes it, just on account of how messy everyone else’s lives seem.
Still, there’s one unexpected bonus to all this:
Captain Rex has definitely been checking him out.
Anakin is well aware that he’s a pretty attractive guy. He’s got his fair share of scars, sure, and the situation with his tongue is… not exactly something that draws people in, unless they’re the kind of people he wouldn’t want around in the first place, but the real important part is that Anakin’s hot and he knows it. He’s got ‘I work with ship repairs and lug around heavy parts all day’ muscles, and some callouses and scars that, in his opinion, only serve to make him look better. He’s gotten second glances from people plenty of times, and he’s taken up a few of the fellow slaves on their offers before.
He hasn’t slept with anyone free, though, because the good freeborn don’t get invited to Jabba’s, and the assholes were usually disgusted by the idea that they’d found him attractive at all.
Few have been as oddly flustered as Captain Rex. A few of the maids, once or twice, but nobody that’s got that kind of muscle, that gorgeous jaw, that I’m here and in charge kind of walk. Anakin’s aware that the clones all have the same sort of face under the helmets, because that’s how clones work, but he’s pretty sure there’s more to it than just the face. He hadn’t been quite so interested in that medic, or in Cody. Maybe it’s a subconscious thing to do with the Force, since he’s apparently got that.
Maybe he’s just impressed by how good Rex is with the Jedi kid.
The point is, Anakin’s interested, and he’s hoping that Rex is just as interested back. The wandering eyes are a good sign, but the man is trying to hide it whenever Anakin notices, so… maybe? The entire situation is a solid ‘maybe.’ Anakin’s hopeful, here.
By the time they get to Christophsis, and get Anakin on this other stupidly massive ship, Ahsoka’s chattering away at him again. He’s signing back what he can, but the communication barrier is a massive pain in the—
“A civilian?”
Anakin looks up from Ahsoka, and blinks as Rex stands straighter and salutes, crisp as anything. He doesn’t stay in the position, which maybe means something but maybe doesn’t, and Ahsoka just waves hello to this new person. Said new person is in a military uniform, but definitely not a clone and probably not a Jedi.
Ahsoka handles the introductions. Anakin waves when she introduces him.
“Anakin’s gonna be hanging out with me when I’m not in the field,” Ahsoka says. “Do you know any sign, Admiral?”
The admiral raises a brow. “I know battlesign and am proficient in signed Bocce, but nothing more.”
“Great!” Ahsoka says. “Anakin understands spoken Basic, but he can’t talk, so mostly he communicates in Bocce.”
“I see,” the admiral says, clearly bemused. “Commander Tano, I’m… glad to meet your new friend, but I don’t see what that has to do with me. You and Captain Rex appear to have things well in hand, and I’m rather more concerned with the upcoming battle than with micromanaging an adult man who appears to be more than capable of looking after himself.”
“Just, you know,” Ahsoka waves vaguely, “in case?”
She’s adorable. Anakin wants to tuck her under one arm and give her a noogie. It’d be good for her, he’s sure.
Still, he could give her some support here. He hooks the datapad to his belt—apparently it’s designed for that, even built with a clip—and taps Ahsoka’s shoulder. She’s probably faster than the Admiral, since he only called himself proficient. “I don’t know G-A-R ships, but I’m a good mechanic. I can help if there’s an emergency. I have a variety of skills, and know most engine types.”
Ahsoka translates dutifully, and the admiral seems unimpressed. “Should such an emergency arise, I will keep it in mind. Until then… you said protective custody? I can have one of the attaché rooms marked down for him.”
“Sound good?” Ahsoka asks, looking up at Anakin. “Or, uh, would you feel better sharing with some of the troopers?”
Can I share with your Captain? Anakin thinks but does not ask. He barely knows the guy; he has no idea what he’d do if they agreed.
“What is an A-T-A-S-H-A-Y?” he asks, and he’s definitely spelling it wrong, but he has no idea how to even start.
“Attaché,” Ahsoka says, and then fingerspells it—it’s got an accent mark, ugh—and shows him the sign in GSL, and follows it with, “but in battlesign, it’s usually just the sign for politician, which is this, and then the word for assistant, which is this.”
She could have just said that.
“I’ll leave you to handle the rest of this,” the Admiral says, turning away. “There’s a supply transfer taking place in a few hours that I need to ensure makes it to the ground.”
Ahsoka rolls her eyes, grabbing Anakin’s sleeve and dragging him out. She introduces him to a handful of clones she seems particularly friendly with as they go along. Anakin’s not sure how he’s meant to feel about being a teenager’s shiny new friend, but he supposes things could be worse. She’s a sweet enough kid.
He feels eyes on him, and turns just enough to look behind and spot Rex’s helmet snap up.
As if he were embarrassed about looking down.
Because he was looking at Anakin’s ass.
Anakin wasn’t sold on the mostly-skintight trooper undersuit when it had been offered to him, in part because he’s taller than their standard, and not quite beefy enough to fill it out. Apparently, though, it’s doing him some favors in at least one place. He feels smug about that. He doesn’t let on that he saw Rex looking, though. He just jerks his head and gestures with one hand for Rex to walk up with the two of them, instead of behind.
There’s the sensation of a sigh, like Rex isn’t letting himself make the noise but is feeling it strongly enough that Anakin can sense it. That means Ahsoka probably can, since she’s actually trained in this stuff. Going by the grin she has for the captain, this is correct.
Anakin doesn’t bother to hide his smile as he’s led to the room he’s apparently going to be using until they can get him to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant for his own safety.
It’s right across the hall from Rex’s.
What a coincidence.