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Chapter Text

They're heading back to base, the Separatist forces finally in retreat, when the General stumbles and falls onto the hardpacked dirt road. Captain Rex is at his side instantly, assessing, scanning for threats. This wasn't a stun bolt, or a blaster shot, and Skywalker had seemed fine just moments ago. But now... the General's eyelids are fluttering weakly, limbs twitching, skin hot and clammy. Too sudden for anything Rex can categorize, and he can't move the man on his own. Kix joins him quickly, runs the scanner over Skywalker, and curses. Rex doesn't ask; he merely helps get their leader to safety.

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There's no up or down, no dark or light, no sense of time or space or reality. Exhaustion makes his ears ring, but he's pretty sure he's already asleep. His stomach is churning, but he can't move to adjust to the discomfort. It's not pain, exactly, what he's feeling. It's a sense of wrongness in his body, an idea that things aren't right and he's in trouble. But he can't verbalize it, can't speak at all, can't open his eyes or make sense of the streaming colors and patterns playing across the insides of his eyelids. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows what's happening, but he rejects the idea. Everything is fine, and he just needs to sleep.

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Kix and Coric act quickly, strapping down Skywalker's arms to the sides of the cot so he doesn't struggle - not that traditional restraints would hold him for long, and not as though he seems to be in any condition to struggle - Coric holding his head still while Kix prepares the lavage kit. It's not something they've had to often use, but the scan had been clear so despite lack of practice, Kix allows his training to take over, ease the tubing down Skywalker's esophagus, making sure it's not in his lungs, then positioning a respirator as well in case he stops breathing. Skywalker gags a bit as the tubes hit the back of his throat, but to Kix's relief he doesn't vomit. Though maybe if he had earlier he'd be more responsive now. Kix is under no delusion that they might be too late for the lavage and activated charcoal treatments to be of much use, but if there's anything else in Skywalker's stomach that hasn't yet absorbed into his bloodstream, they need to get it taken care of. For the moment his airway is protected, at least. Skywalker spasms slightly, but the procedure goes on.

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He's vaguely aware of something holding his mouth open, a horrible pressure in his stomach. He's falling now, the deep pit that had opened up while he'd been walking back to the base now swallowing him like a Sarlaac. A thousand years, he thinks. He'll be here for a thousand years, being slowly digested, corroded, stripped away to nothing. But hadn't he already been? He can feel the darkness inside of himself, growing blacker, more bitter, more hungry every day. Nothing sates him anymore, even the touch of his wife's gentle hands can't truly calm whatever horrible dragon has taken up residence inside of him. He'd needed to get the thing out, to protect everyone around him. But he knows, truly, because he can feel it still in there writhing and squeezing his heart, that it's still there. Waiting.

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The General is still unresponsive, and the scanner shows a dangerous level of blood absorption despite the lavage, so Kix and Coric set up the dialysis machine to clean his blood completely. They've done this on Skywalker before, when he's been injured and in need of the machine's support while internal bleeding and tearing healed, so they know it won't affect whatever makes a Jedi a Jedi. The lavage tube comes out, the breathing intubation stays in, attached to a machine that will take over if Skywalker stops breathing entirely. Neither of them speak except where necessary, because neither of them know what to say. Still, brothers, they know the other is thinking it - something like this doesn't happen by accident.

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He thinks maybe he hears Ahsoka's voice, but that's impossible. He's glad for it too because she shouldn't have to see this. She's seen too much already, knows more than she should, and even though she's gone now he would hate to disappoint her. He knows he's Falling, the wound ripped open in the Tusken camp on Tatooine growing deeper, festering, as the war drags inexorably on. He'd felt it for ages now, a creeping rot, unable to stop himself, unwilling to try. He is powerful like this, and dangerous, and it wasn't until nearly beating a man to death with his bare hands in front of his beloved... he almost didn't stop himself, he didn't want to. Still half-wishes he had finished the job there instead of giving the man the satisfaction of becoming a martyr to his cause, to his love for Anakin's own wife. She'd been terrified of him, and part of him had relished it and that part, that part that grows stronger every day and in every battle, needed to be exorcised.

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They - and Captain Rex - agree to inform the Jedi Council that General Skywalker has taken ill and is unable to be in command. They agree not to elaborate, not even to General Kenobi - at least not yet, not until Skywalker is awake and they know for certain. The man has enough trouble with the Council, they certainly don't want to add to it without reason. Although should reason dictate, Kenobi will be their first call.

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He wonders if Obi-Wan will mourn him, if his former Master will stand stoic by his funeral pyre, if he will release a memory moth in the Halls of Remembrance. He wonders if Obi-Wan will feel a fraction of the pain Anakin had felt when he'd thought Obi-Wan to be dead, or if in true Jedi fashion Obi-Wan will move on. The more he learns about his friend, the less certain he is of the answer to that question, and through the swirling, spinning blackness of this place he has found himself, he realizes that perhaps he should have asked a long, long time ago.

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The hours drag by, and Skywalker remains asleep. The scanners show improvement, healing; the poison is no longer at dangerous levels, but the man stays eerily still as the rest works its way out of his system. They've been able to pinpoint the dosage, and have extrapolated that Skywalker was exposed (none of them say it, none of them admit how they know it really happened) just before the short battle began, giving the poison time to render him insensible by its end. He'd planned to go down in glorious war, Kix surmises, not realizing the fight would end before he did. The others agree. They fall back to silence.

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Sweaty nausea has replaced spinning blackness as Anakin's main point of focus. He feels lost, unable to find his moorings in a vast expanse of space. He misses Obi-Wan. He misses Padme. The thought of never seeing them again makes him twitch slightly, because it feels like that is all he can do. He knows he needs to protect them from what he is becoming, but selfish as he is he has realized he doesn't want to do that at the cost of him being able to see them again. And though his life is a lie, and though the war seems like it will never come to an end and although it feels like the darkness is closing in on every side, he is still a Jedi, and he knows he needs to push back the darkness instead of allowing himself to drown in it.

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It's two days before Skywalker fully wakes. At first he seems confused, disoriented, but that's expected. He complains of nausea, and vomits twice into the basin they shove under his head. He's pale and shaky and seems entirely embarrassed by the lengths they have gone to in order to save his life, apologizing, insisting it was an accident. They don't believe that for a moment. Rex insists on speaking with Skywalker privately and when he is done he tells them that the Council and Kenobi need not be involved, that Skywalker had given his word, that Rex will take responsibility for their General's well-being. They trust their Captain, and their General, so they agree.

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He's glad for the Clones' discretion, but is still privately mortified that they bore witness to his desperation. They won't truly understand, he thinks, not the darkness or the threat of Falling, but they understand battle fatigue, they understand compassion and empathy. They are men, after all, flesh and blood just as much as he is. Moreso, he sometimes thinks. They have been kind to him, and Rex has promised to always have his back. Maybe that is enough, for now, until a better solution presents itself. It will, he decides, be okay.

Chapter Text

Before he leaves, Captain Rex has a meeting with Sergeant Appo. Ostensibly it is to give him the run down on his new responsibilities as second in command of the 501st, but in reality it is a briefing on the General.

Appo has been around for a while, but nobody knows General Skywalker as well as Rex, except possibly General Kenobi. And even then, Rex knows things even Skywalker's former Master is ignorant of. Rex knows Skywalker is different, and Appo needs to know... "Expect the unexpected," he says and while once those words were positive, almost whimsical, they have recently taken a darker turn. After all, nobody had expected General Skywalker to try and kill himself. Not that any of them say it in so many words, of course. But that's what had happened, what Rex had, at the time, promised to prevent. His transfer, he tells himself, has nothing to do with that.

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It all started with Fives. While the General's emotional state had been deteriorating since Commander Tano's departure - and maybe before, but it was her loss that threw it all into sharp relief - Rex didn't start doubting until Fives died. It had been a terrifying prospect, the idea that all he is and all he's been trained for boiled down to one terrible purpose. And sure enough, he and Kix and Coric removed the chips, and things changed.

Fives came to him in his dreams, those awful nightmares that Rex now knows they all have. Fives warns him, tells him to get away from the General. At first Rex resists; Skywalker is doing a good job of pretending he didn't poison himself, but that doesn't make Rex any more comfortable leaving him to his own devices. Besides, he'd made a promise, and he couldn't very well keep it if he left, especially the way Skywalker has been taking on the kinds of missions he has been.

"It's a suicide mission," he'd heard Kenobi say, just before they'd gone to rescue Echo.

"So what?" he'd heard the General respond, and wishes then they had told Kenobi the truth months ago. But then Skywalker remembers himself and adds, "When has that ever stopped us?" It's enough to make Kenobi's shoulders relax, but Rex knows better. He wishes it made his decision any easier.

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He's a chuff-sucking coward for not telling Skywalker to his face. Instead he goes through strictly military channels, requesting a transfer, recommending his replacement. The process takes a couple of weeks and he can barely look his General in the eye in all that time. He's a little surprised Skywalker doesn't sense something is wrong, but he supposes it's possible that SO MUCH is wrong it's hard for the Jedi to differentiate between one wrong thing and another.

He doesn't even have it in him to say goodbye. Instead, at the end of the mission, he salutes and says, "An honor to serve with you, Sir." And then he walks away before he can see the expression on Skywalker's face, leaving Kenobi to explain what has happened. He thinks, as he walks away, that he really should have warned Kenobi.

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He doesn't see Skywalker again for months. His new battalion doesn't take on anywhere near the number or complexity of missions as the 501st, but anything new is always a challenge. The Jedi General is fine, but no one understands the men like Skywalker. Sometimes he has to remind himself that he made this decision himself.

It's reinforced when he does come across the 501st again, on some far-flung Outer Rim cess pit of a planet. Skywalker pretends not to notice him; it's not like he's unrecognizable now - still got the jaig eyes and kama, just in a different legion's colors. His former General looks rough, Rex thinks, and it's when he realizes that Skywalker - though clearly trying to hide it (and succeeding, apparently) - is drunk throughout the entire engagement that he realizes he made the right decision. Maybe.

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He hears about the accident through Kix at 79's, some more months after the last time he'd seen Skywalker. "It's been rough without you, Captain," Kix admits. "General Skywalker needs help and nobody's doing anything about it. And he's stopped listening to me, anyway." The medic lets out a sharp sigh. "Explosion was probably the best thing that could have happened."

Rex raises an eyebrow. "And how's that?" Last time he checked, nearly getting blown to pieces wasn't a good thing.

"He's grounded until the Jedi clear him," Kix explains. "And I told their people about... well, I told them everything." The suicide attempt, the recklessness, the drinking, he means. "He's gonna get what he needs from them, I think." He shrugs. "I hope, anyway."

Rex hopes so too; Skywalker is a good man, despite his flaws, and while his decision to leave had a lot to do with the General's behavior, Rex has never wished him ill. Still doesn't. "Think he'd be receptive to visitors?" he asks.

Kix shrugs. "Who knows?" he replies. "Can't hurt to try." His tone suggests Kix himself is tired of trying.

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As it happens, Skywalker isn't able to have visitors, even if he'd wanted them.

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When Order 66 comes through, Rex is deployed to the mid-rim. He, and the few others who had removed their chips, do what they can but they're too late to save their Jedi General and her Padawan. Rex feels a pang of grief; he's sure somewhere out there in the Galaxy, General Skywalker is fighting against the men he'd fought beside for so long. He wonders if Skywalker ever really recovered, if he's got Kenobi with him. Of all the Jedi in the galaxy, Rex would bet money those two are going down fighting, together, or not going down at all. He vows to go look for them, once the dust settles.

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Skywalker, he learns years later, apparently never did fully recover himself and Rex realizes with a shock that makes him have to sit down, and Wolff ask if he's all right, that he'd been right all along.