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Rex’s footsteps echoed heavily down the hall as he stormed through their temporary barracks on Coruscant. It was supposed to have been run of the mill. The men get a week or two of down time while General Skywalker and the Commander take care of this bombing investigation for their Council. But now…
Now…
He took a shaky breath and turned down a corner, completely on autopilot. He felt so angry that it was like his heart, his blood, and everything inside him had turned into lava and the only way it wasn’t all spilling out of him was because he was clenching his jaw so tightly.
The itch burning through him to fucking do something to fix this was completely at odds with the absolute truth that there was nothing to be done. They had cleared her of charges. She was still choosing to leave. With a herculean effort, he reined himself in from slamming his fist dead into the wall of the corridor.
He couldn’t do anything to fix it because what needed to be done was to turn back the clock and make this entire debacle not have happened in the first place. He closed his eyes as regret bled into the liquid rage coursing through him. How many times in his short life had he wished for a do-over on how something had played out? And now, like all those times, all that was left was to deal with the fallout instead.
He clenched his teeth harder. And apparently, part of that fallout included him being batshit out of his mind.
His swirling thoughts were useless. He was thinking and feeling so many things, all pinging off of one another, that he could process none of them. Nor, he realized bitterly, did he want to. He couldn’t fight this and he didn’t even want to pretend to fight this. The firing range was usually the first place he ended up after losing a soldier. Each bolt blazing across the empty space allowed his brain to focus on something else and pretend that this practice would save everyone next time. And in the meantime, his pain and grief and powerlessness could all swirl around in the background until it settled down enough for him to take it one thought at a time. But every time he considered turning back to the range now, his mind violently rejected the idea outright. He didn’t want to know what he was feeling, it wouldn’t matter to realize who all he blamed for this, he wasn’t interested in discovering why he felt nearly as angry about this as he had been on Umbara.
He swallowed around a renewed surge of lava that boiled up his throat over that realization, but it was true. And to hell if he was going to give that closer inspection right now. If staying angry let him draw a sheet over those mental boxes that he didn’t want to look inside—one of which was to begin grasping the impossible reality of moving forward in this neverending war without her—then he could just stay fucking livid. Forever, if he had to. Sorry General, since I don’t want to deal with even thinking about going back to the front without her, we have to stay here. Sorry Chancellor, the 501st can’t leave Coruscant without Commander Tano, so we’ll just have to press pause on the war effort. Sorry Separatists, no one showed up to fight today, I guess you’ll just have to do yourselves in. Congrats everyone, Captain Rex just ended the fucking war by being fucking angry.
He had stopped in the middle of a corridor and when he crawled out of his head to actually get his bearings he realized he was standing in front of her closed door.
He stared at it, not really seeing it, transfixed by the unblemished gray empty surface. This was the last place he should be. He wanted nothing more than to talk to her and had absolutely no idea what he should say. Besides, how could he ask her to worry about taking care of his feelings on top of her own right now.
The gray door stared back at him.
What was he supposed to do without her? What were any of them supposed to do? Skywalker had looked like he was going into shock.
He should knock.
No, he should leave.
His limbs refused to move towards either action.
Would he plead her not to go?
…
…Did he wish he could leave with her?
Abruptly, he felt like he was falling, like the gray void might consume him, and the anger that he had been gripping to so tightly was suddenly slipping through his fingers.
He lurched himself into motion, back the way he had come. He was in no condition to talk to her. She probably wasn’t even here. Needles pierced through his gut. What if she had left already?
“Rex.”
He stopped in place. For the first time since the news had broken, silence descended on his thoughts.
He looked down at the floor—how had he never noticed how completely gray everything was?—
“I was just leaving,” he said. If he didn’t turn to face her now, would he be able to stay frozen in the times before this horrible week?
“You can come in if you’d like,” she replied and her footsteps receded back into her room.
He turned around and followed her inside.
Her back was to him and she was looking down at her limited belongings on the bunk. She had a single bag—non-military issue—but it looked mostly empty. Probably just her change of clothes. She was standing tall but there was a slant to her shoulders, like her spine was stiffly holding all of the rest of her up from wanting to sink beneath the floor.
He set his helmet on the small table by the door. Now that he was looking at her, he wanted to be sure he could drink in every detail: the warm sienna of her skin, the bright striping of her montrals that almost matched the blue of the 501st, the colorful beading—
His brain stopped. Her padawan beads were gone. This was really happening.
And then she turned to look at him and the absolute loneliness in her expression was like a punch to the gut.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
In two steps he had reached her and wrapped her up in a tight embrace.
How could they have done this to her? This incredible and brave and fierce and compassionate young woman. Wasn’t she everything they claimed to uphold? Hadn’t they seen how much she had sacrificed for them? To be like them? Because she believed in what it was to be a Jedi?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, not seeming to mind that his armor was probably digging into her.
“No,” he shook his head. “No. You deserved so much more than how they treated you.”
He could actually feel her squeezing back through the rigid strength of the plastoid. She nodded slightly, then with more momentum, then she was trembling and he realized she must be crying. The room lost focus and he realized he was crying, too.
It was such a strange contradiction to feel like he had lost her and still be able to hold her close. The knowledge that this was the last time he would see her kept rolling over him but it was such a foreign experience to have a warning like this that his arms clung to her in blatant denial, as if to say “can’t you see she’s right here?”. But before today, they were either both going to survive the war or one of them would die in the blink of an eye first. There had never been a third option until now. Was this better? Should he be grateful that, for once, he was actually getting a chance to say goodbye?
His chest contracted again and he tightened his hold on her as more tears slid down his cheeks. It would seem that saying goodbye didn’t make loss any easier. She was still about to be completely beyond anywhere he could reach her.
Her breathing was eventually becoming steadier and he began moving his hand up and down her back, realizing the motion was helping to calm him as well. If this really was the last goodbye then he would make sure she left knowing there were still people who loved her, who would always have her back.
Deep breath in.
Deep breath out.
At last, she took a step back and dried her face on the back of her hands. Her eyes were puffy and a little glassy when she looked up at him.
“You can still trust them,” she said, her voice scratchy from crying.
Rex lifted his gaze and looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. It was like she had peered into the swirling thoughts inside his head that he was refusing to identify and easily plucked out the one that mattered the most. She had named his molten anger—accurately—and by doing so, made him powerless to stop it from rising through the cracks that had cooled over the top of it.
“After this?” he replied, meeting her gaze again. He recognized the rarely-heard defiance in his tone.
A small furrow pinched between her eyebrows. “This war has been so long, and the right course of action is so clouded to see right now. We’re all just trying to do what we think is best.”
And they thought it was best to alienate their own allies? His pulse was rising again. Their own people?
“It’s ok to be angry with them,” she continued, and he barely caught a humorless smile that flickered at one side of her mouth. “But…they are trying to do what is best for the Republic.”
He sighed. He was starting to think that what was best for the Republic discarded a lot of people in the process. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
She nodded in quiet understanding. “Then maybe… Maybe just trust that you can trust Anakin.”
Anakin Skywalker. His general. A Jedi, but also…somehow different from them.
He sighed again but this time more in acceptance. “Ok.” Trusting General Skywalker might be all he could manage right now as far as the Jedi were concerned…but he could manage that.
“And Rex,” her expression trembled for a second. “It’s also ok for you to be angry at me, too.”
“I’m not. I’m…” he looked down and away, struggling to find the right words.
“But if sometime later, you find that you are,” her voice began to wobble again, “because you have every right to be—”
He took a breath to interrupt but she gently put a hand on his vambrace and continued on, in spite of her eyes filling again. “I hope you can remember how very, very sorry I am,” her breath hitched, “because I know you all trusted me to not just leave you.” As her tears spilled over again, he scooped her back into his arms just in time to hear a muffled “And I’m so s-sorry.”
“Shhh…” was all he said, his hand moving soothingly up and down her back again while she cried quietly. Was he angry at her? He didn’t feel like it; there were so many better candidates to assign blame to right now. Her apology echoed through his thoughts. He certainly didn’t want to be angry at her, but did he have a right to be? Beneath all this rage, was he hiding from himself that he was mad at her, too?
Her sobs began to take on a despondent edge that had been absent during their first hug and the answer came easily to him.
“Ok,” he said, leaning his head down closer to her ear. “Ok, I’ll forgive you. Shhhh…” He took a deep breath and felt some of his tension lessen. “I do forgive you.” Because it was easy to. “It’s ok, Ahsoka. We’re gonna be ok.”
And they could be. For her. They would be extra vigilant knowing she wasn’t there to look out for them on the field. They would remember her strategies, remember her leadership, and look after her general. They could be ok.
When she sounded like she had regained a bit of control over her emotions, he leaned back slightly so he could look at her without releasing his embrace. “Are you gonna be ok?” he asked, seriously.
She took a deep, steadying breath while she considered his question, staring at his chestplate without really looking at it. After a moment, she gave a resolute nod.
He felt another notch of his tension let go and he nodded back, realizing he believed her. He had seen her be independent and strong, but also personable and caring. She would find her path because she had to, and others would help her when she needed it.
And yet…
“You ever need anything,” he said. “—Anything at all—you comm me. And I’ll…I’ll figure out a way to make it happen. Ok?”
She gave him a wan smile but didn’t say anything.
“Ok?” he said again, with more emphasis and her smile widened.
“Ok,” she said earnestly, finally reading how sternly he needed her to understand him. After a second, her lips pressed together in a fractional tremor. “You watch your six, ok?”
A half-smile pulled at his mouth, which morphed into a full chuckle when she said “Ok??”
“Ok,” he promised.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
“You too,” he said, quietly.
This was it. He could feel their time was down to seconds left and his thoughts began to scatter at the prospect. Was he supposed to be able to walk away while she was still here and alive? Is that what saying goodbye meant? Leaving when you still actually had time left? How? Why?
What was he supposed to say that would be his last ever words to her? What could possibly encompass everything that she was? That they were to each other?
“May the Force be with you.” He spoke before really realizing it. He’d never said the phrase before, only heard it exchanged, and the words felt funny in his mouth. For a second, he almost regretted it because she looked like she may cry again, but she launched her arms around his neck and he caught her in a final hug.
“And with you.” She said it with such feeling that he could tell she meant it. She emanated warmth through his gloves and he closed his eyes to commit this feeling to memory.
He found himself thinking on it later, the smell of ozone crisp as he fired bolt after repetitious bolt into the target at the end of the range. The Force had always been something other—a Jedi thing that didn’t apply to the rest of them—but he found himself hoping her prayer really did extend to him too. He missed her fiercely already, but she didn’t feel gone. If the Force was with them, and she was connected to the Force, did that mean she would still be with them, too?
The memory of her lonely expression surfaced in his thoughts but it was quickly chased away by the feel of her embrace.
He hoped so.