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Ahsoka wakes up to silence on Life Day. It's the sixteenth of her existence, and her second spent at war.
All around her are the Force signatures of Republic forces, from High General right down to the freshest shiny, armour still unmarked by the paint of their new battalions and as of yet untouched by battle. This is something she's gotten used to over the past two years: the ever-present hum of life in the vast emptiness of space. It's comforting, this constant chorus of vitality. Jedi are not made to be alone.
It's curious, though, that most of the signatures she feels are still asleep. She's not used to being awake before the men, who rise like clockwork after every sleep cycle, military time deeply embedded in their cerebral cortexes.
She pushes herself up on her elbows to check the chronometer by her bunk. Laser red digits flash behind her retinas as she squints to save her sleep-stunted vision in the darkness of her room.
0600 hours.
Huh. She blinks. The chrono blinks back at her.
While she wouldn't consider herself as punctual as the troopers, she's developed her own schedule of sorts aboard the Resolute. Often she'll wake half an hour after everyone else (it's a necessity for a girl of her age, Kix has reassured her, if she wants to have any hope of growing taller than them) and make her way to the mess before all the good provisions are gone. Anakin always saves her a light breakfast when she's late – a ration bar or two – while, unbeknownst to either of them, Rex does the same. As Torrent Company's Chief Medic and a close friend to the captain, Kix witnesses this breakfast smuggling each morning over a mug of caf, but says nothing. It's a necessity for a girl of her age, after all.
Curious, she clambers out of bed. She has the foresight to grab her lightsaber, but not her slippers as the morning chill reminds her.
She pads out of her quarters and through the empty corridors, her footsteps ringing through the metal halls in the stillness. When she reaches the bridge, she finds it unguarded. It sets on her edge and she reaches for the saber by her side. Its weight presses firm and reassuring against her hip as she opens the blast doors.
She needn't have worried. Inside are Anakin, Master Kenobi and, curiously, Commander Cody. Master Kenobi has one hand curled around a gently steaming mug (tea most likely; he's confessed more than once that the caf onboard tastes like hell). The three are sitting like younglings, crowded around a datapad like it holds the freshest holodrama.
Obi-Wan is the first to notice her.
"Ahsoka," he says without turning for confirmation. "Why don't you join us?"
Anakin's head rises at those words, his eyes torn from the screen with what seems to be great reluctance. "Snips. Hey."
He tries to smile, but it comes off tired. The corners of his mouth lift, but his eyes do the opposite. Kibo-dark circles bloom beneath them, though his enthusiasm for her is genuine enough.
"Hey," she says, sidling over. She rests her arms on the back of her master's chair and her chin atop his head. She feels his posture relax, however imperceptibly, at the contact. "What's up?"
"Dooku."
Ahsoka resists the urge to snort at that. She gets the feeling now isn't the time. "Isn't it always?"
"Well, you aren't wrong. But usually we have a little more warning as to his tactics," Obi-Wan says with a sigh. He turns the datapad to her and swipes open the holonews.
Count Dooku's face appears onscreen, flickering blue and every bit as imposing as ever. His cloak is fastened around his shoulders by a sturdy yet elegant chain, a less than subtle reminder of his nobility. Though the image is little more than a bust, his arms appear to be drawn behind his back, his chin tilted upwards, like he's a general to be respected and not heineous, murdering scum.
Ahsoka forces herself to pay attention to his words.
"As representative of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, I have the pleasure of announcing that Supreme Martial Commander of the Separatist Droid Armies, General Grievous, has declared a ceasefire in honour of the Life Day celebrations taking place across the galaxy. It is his hope that this truce may be the first step in recognising the will of the millions of sentients living within the CIS..."
There's more to the announcement, but Ahsoka can no longer parse it. The words rattle through her montrals but their meaning refuses to sink in.
Onscreen, Dooku's lips continue to move silently in a mockery of speech.
"A ceasefire?" She repeats.
"It would appear so," Master Kenobi says, at the same time Cody mutters, "And Mustafar just froze over."
She's surprised by how composed Anakin seems amidst all of this. He's tired – exhausted, really – but beyond that she can see the general that she usually only witnesses in battle. The man the Jedi Council saw fit to lead an army at the age of nineteen. She feels a sudden rush of pride for her master, who'd die for his men just as soon as they would for him.
"Anakin?"
"We can't be sure this isn't some kind of trick Dooku's pulling, but we also can't take the risk of breaking his truce preemptively, no matter how much of a sleemo he is."
"Particularly when he's just made the announcement to the entire galaxy," Obi-Wan adds. "It seems likely he's trying to garner public favour, which makes it less likely that he'll go back on his word."
Anakin nods in agreement. "We decided to let the men sleep a little longer." At Ahsoka's questioning expression, he sighs.
"With a little Force persuasion. This is probably the only chance like this we'll get. It's better to make sure everyone's well rested, because I'd bet my last credit Dooku's 'generosity' won't last past tomorrow." He doesn't look happy about it; there's an air of resignation to his words.
Ahsoka frowns. She feels much the way Anakin looks right now. Doubt pools in her stomach like a growing weight. But if her masters have faith, then she should, as well. What's the saying – never look a gift gualaar in the mouth?
---
"A ceasefire?" are Rex's first words to her when he wakes.
He seems groggier, somehow, for the extra hour of sleep, like his body had finally been warming up to the idea of a full eight hours. He's still in his blacks, a sight that feels almost obscene despite the stretchy material covering his body from chin to ankle. It's not that Ahsoka hasn't seen him like this before, it just feels so out of place when only an hour ago she'd still been expecting a battle.
"'A gesture of goodwill from the Confederacy of Independent Systems to the Grand Army of the Republic'," Ahsoka confirms, sweeping her arms out in her best, most dramatic impression of the Separatist leader. She needs a cape, she thinks.
"That sounds like some seppie bantha–" He cuts himself off with a glance at Ahsoka. "Sounds like a whole pack of lies."
"You guys act like I haven't spent the last two years on a Republic Star Destroyer. I've heard worse than poodoo. But yeah, that's what I thought, too. Anakin and Master Kenobi think he's serious, though."
"I'm no gambler, but… well, I guess we'll see."
That makes Ahsoka laugh, surprising even herself. Reckless as he may be sometimes, she knows Rex's sensibilities better than her own at this point.
"Don't worry, Rexster, your credits are safe with me."
The conversation doesn't stray far from Dooku – and really, it never does on ships like theirs – and it isn't long before they've attracted a small audience, curious both as to the late wakeup time and the commander's presence in the barracks.
Ahsoka does her best to explain the situation to the rest of the men who've gathered round, though this time she chooses to leave out the Dooku impression. It doesn't feel the same without the cape, and she doesn't have the eyebrows or the facial hair to really do it justice.
"It's not like we're on shore leave. We can't just up and go anywhere. What do you do with an entire battalion who all suddenly have the same day off?" Jesse asks. His hand reaches up to rub over the tattoo on his scalp.
Ahsoka grins. "I'm glad you asked, Jesse. I have an idea."
She hadn't thought of it before, that the clones have never celebrated Life Day, and the realisation had hit her like a freighter. But she's had some time to think about it, and now, as she fills them in on the traditions, she can feel her own excitement welling up within her.
"It's about family, more than anything. Sharing food and drinks, and decking the halls!"
"What's decking the halls?"
"It's…" She pauses. "Good question. It's about decorating, but I don't know who came up with the term. Master Yoda would probably know."
"Did you say sharing food, Commander? I think Fives might have something to share."
Fives shoots Kix a glare for that, though there's no real heat behind the gesture. If anything, he seems more put out that someone else announced his intentions before he did than the fact that he's been outed for sequestering food in the barracks.
"It's no shaak steak or anything, but I did pick up a little something last time we were planetside," he says, producing something from under his bunk.
In his hands is a small woven bag. He tips it upside down and a number of round objects tumble out, each individually wrapped in flashy foil.
"Here," he says as he picks one up and holds it out. The wrapping glitters red and silver. "Finest chocolate this side of the galaxy."
Echo scoffs at that, but Fives's expression remains just as self-satisfied. He divides the sweets between his gathered brothers, slipping Ahsoka an extra with an exaggerated wink. There aren't enough to share, really, not even amongst all of Torrent, but Fives's sacrifice is enough to inspire some of the others to part with their own stashed goods.
Rex raises an eyebrow at the volume. Barracks inspections are supposed to catch contraband, and yet the pile in front of him keeps growing. He opens his mouth to protest, rank catching up to him all at once, and then closes it again. He watches as his brothers' ill-gotten gains continue to mount and chooses not to ask how they got it. Plausible deniability seems like the better option.
Ahsoka pops one of the chocolates in her mouth while Rex by her side purses his lips. It's rich and decadently sweet. As it melts on her tongue she can taste different flavours, as though each one has been concealed behind a fresh layer of chocolate. It's a far cry from the ration squares she's grown used to.
"Thank you, Fives," she says. She has to raise her voice to be heard over the racket as the other clones share their own treats amongst themselves.
Fives, leaning against his bunk with one shoulder pressed against Echo's, grins. "Only the best for my vod'ika."
Behind them, another type of sharing has begun. Ahsoka is still too young to drink in most systems throughout the galaxy, but she recognises alcohol when she sees it.
Two of the younger men are arguing over it – ah, shinies – while Rex sneaks the bottle from them, unnoticed.
"That's cortyg brandy! How the heck did you get that?"
"I did a good turn for a Wookie."
"You've never done anyone a good turn in your life!"
"Let's just say I got them out of a pretty hairy situation…"
By the time the brandy has been portioned out, no one seems to care much where it came from, but they do seem a little merrier.
---
Although Ahsoka's descriptions of Life Day trees are vivid enough to almost conjure the images themselves, there are no trees to be found aboard a Venator-class Star Destroyer. This poses a problem for all of thirty seconds before Hardcase pipes up with a grin –
"There's a whole loada scrap metal in the armoury. I bet we could make one hell of tree outta that."
That thought finds Ahsoka frowning in concentration as she attempts to piece together several rough pieces of duraplast in the main barracks. Lifting the metal isn't the difficult part – she's lifted heavier things as a youngling, and her Force abilities have only grown in strength. Attempting to make a heap of scrap resemble a tree is the real challenge.
"A little more to the left, Commander."
"What are you talking about? You've never even seen a real tree!"
Ahsoka ducks her head to hide the laughter that bubbles up within her. There's something about being here, with her brothers, that feels so right. Even parsecs from her home on Coruscant or her birthplace of Shili, she feels more at home on this ship than she could have ever imagined.
The traditional Life Day trees are brown: the gorgeous wroshyrs of Kashyyyk. Their haphazard stack of metal falls somewhere between a deep, forest green and a murky brown once it's been lovingly, and messily, painted. It's a lot closer than Ahsoka thought they'd get, actually. A mixture of the 501st's blue and the pale orange of the 212th has given them something that, at the very least, resembles a tree in the abstract.
"Usually people hang Life Day orbs on their trees, but we didn't stock up on those last time we were planetside," Ahsoka tells them once the paint has been applied. Her smile is wry.
"Not to worry, Commander!"
She's forced to duck as several grenades are thrown her way. They clatter to the floor rather unspectacularly, and Ahsoka realises too late that she should probably be more concerned by the tossing around of munitions on the ship.
Before she can voice this, however, another voice reassures her, "It's okay! They're duds. Never had any charge in them anyway. We picked up a few of 'em while we were down getting the scrap, just in case. Ya never know when you might need a grenade or two."
It's not a very traditional use of the charges, but she has to admit as Hardcase and Jesse hang them on the makeshift tree, the whole scene actually looks kind of nice. There's a certain industrial charm to it, with its jagged edges and roughly painted 'branches'. If anything, it reminds Ahsoka of all of them. Sure, they might not be the most cohesive group, but there's something about the way they fit together regardless. She wouldn't have it any other way.
"What do you think, Commander?" Rex asks once they've finished. The other clones wait for her answer with expectant eyes.
"It's perfect," she says, and she means it.
It is the sixteenth Life Day of Ahsoka's existence, and the first she's spent with her family.