Archive of Our Own

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Mace fell. Down and down and down. The pain from the electricity and where his hand used to be was agonizing, but Anakin’s betrayal was worse. He’d trusted him, believed in him; he was a fine Jedi and a credit to the order. And now his choice would lead to the fall of the Republic and the Sith ruling the galaxy. Through the Force, he felt the clones’ minds suddenly go dark, and the bright lights of his fellow Jedi extinguishing. Below him, a platform rushed up. He braced himself and reached out with the Force to soften his fall. It hurt, but he lived. Now, to find a way to the temple to warn them, and to find medical treatment for his new stump courtesy of Skywalker.

Mace was deeply familiar with Coruscant and its twists and turns throughout the levels; the place he’d landed was familiar, and it wouldn’t take long for him to sneak back to the Temple. He would get there in time.

He didn’t.

Too late. He was too late. The Temple, his home, was in flames, with the bodies of dead Jedi slumped on the floor. Some bore the marks of lightsabers – Skywalker had been here too. Mace had lived here for almost as long as he could remember and now it was in ruins, a graveyard for his family. Overwhelmed, he fell to his knees and let the grief wash over him, all-encompassing.
Eventually and with effort, he got up again and made his way to the Halls of Healing – there would be some supplies there with which he could make sure his arm was taken care of enough for his next move. The Sith wanted to completely destroy the Jedi but they hadn’t; Mace, at least, was still here, and he was not going to let the Sith win.

As he swiftly bandaged his arm, he contemplated his next move. Where could he go? There would be few of their - (gone they were all GONE) - allies that would be willing to take him in. It would need to be someone with many resources. A Senator would be preferable but given Palpatine, most options were out. With Skywalker’s betrayal he couldn’t go to Amidala either – Skywalker would be keeping a close eye on her or worse, she was in on it. But who else could he turn to – oh! Obi-Wan’s friend Senator Organa. Staunchly against the war and Palpatine’s accrual of power, and always willing to back up the Jedi. Yes, he would be a good person to turn to. Best to make sure he hadn’t been followed, and not lead the hounds directly to Organa. He’d get his arm taken care of, find his own way away from Coruscant, then lie low for a bit. Let the Sith think he’d died. Then, Mace would reemerge and make his way to Organa.

When Depa woke up, she was in agony. Evidently, her men – (her men, they had shot her they had tried to shoot Caleb had they killed Caleb had she bought him enough time) – had thought she was dead. They weren’t entirely wrong; she was very close to death, that was for sure. From what she remembered, it had been dark when her men had turned on them, and dawn was just beginning to creep over the horizon. Wincing, she looked around to make sure she was alone, and then slowly, agonizingly, dragged herself away. She dragged herself across a stream, which should at least break her trail if someone came looking for her. She then staggered to her feet, stumbling further into the forest. Eventually, she found a hollow next to a log that was a serviceable place to spend the night.

Depa tentatively reached out into the Force and was overwhelmed by the absence of her people – where thousands of bright lights once glowed in the Force there were now only echoes of their dying screams. She flinched, but searched deeper in the Force for Caleb. Crushing nothingness was all she found. Her Padawan was gone. She had been too late. Depa buried her head in her hands and wept. She’d find a way off planet tomorrow, find a place to regroup. But for now, she grieved.

He couldn’t feel any of them. His Master, his Grandmaster, the entirety of the Jedi Order – gone in a blink. And Caleb was gone too. Caleb Dume had taken his last breath when his Master did. He was no longer Caleb Dume, no longer a Jedi – they were all dead.

Kanan Jarrus took his first breath and didn’t look back. There was nothing to look back at, after all.

It had taken much time and a very, very circuitous route, including stowing away aboard a cargo ship, but Mace had finally made it to Alderaan. He’d been to the Alderaanian royal palace a time or two; the place had not changed in that time, other than a marked increase in security. It was somewhat of a challenge to sneak his way into the Queen and Senator’s wing. His new hand, that he’d gotten attached in Coruscant’s lower levels, was serviceable for this task but frustratingly slow at times.

He found Organa was standing in a room that appeared to be a nursery of sorts, humming softly to himself while rocking a baby. Must be the child the Organas had recently announced they’d adopted. She glowed softly in the Force, drawing Mace to her like a moth to a flame. That would be something else to discuss with him. Organa was so absorbed in soothing the baby that he didn’t notice Mace’s entrance to the room. This was going to startle Organa, but needs must.

“Senator Organa, it is good to see you.”

Organa immediately spun around, drawing a blaster as he did so. Mace could sympathize with his twitchiness. Bail lowered the blaster slowly, bewildered, as he registered who had snuck up upon him. The baby fussed at the sudden movement. “Master Windu? I thought you were dead!”

“Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.”

Bail smiled, relieved. “It’s good to know that you survived. Reports were that you were among the Jedi killed when you ‘betrayed the Republic’ and tried to murder Palpatine; I’m assuming you were trying to arrest him?”

Mace sighed. “Yes, we’d received information that he was the Sith Master this whole time and went to stop him.”

“Yes, I had heard as much about him being a Sith. Makes one wonder how much of the war was a fabrication to do exactly this.”

Mace stared. The fact that the Emperor was a Sith was certainly not common knowledge. “Where did you hear of that?”

Bail smiled. “You’re not the only Jedi I’ve encountered who survived the Purge.”

Mace’s breath caught in his throat. Logically, he knew that a handful of other Jedi must have escaped their destruction, but he’d seen no sign of that so far.

“A couple are in hiding, or looking after things. A few have approached me about working against the Empire as well.” Bail hesitated. “I’d tell you who, but I’m not sure if they would want you to know about them unless I checked. And in many ways, the fewer who know –”

“— the better” Mace finished. “I understand. But, if any of them wish to know about a surviving Jedi, you can tell them about me.”

Bail nodded. “I will.”

“And, I can guess that you came here for a reason?”

“I thought that out of all of the Jedi’s allies, you were the most likely to be plotting against Palpatine and the most likely to be able to keep that fact hidden as long as need be.”

Bail paused. “I can’t say that you’re wrong, but the fact you were able to deduce that is alarming for the secrecy necessary.”

“I was only able to reason that out because I know you. Your public cover works to keep suspicion away.” Mace reassured him.

“If you say so.” Bail still looked skeptical. “Still, I will have to endeavor to be sneakier, then. There is quite a bit at stake.” He glanced down at the baby he still held in his arms, and smiled.

“What’s her name?”

Bail’s smile widened. “Leia.”

“I can sense her in the Force – she’s Force-Sensitive.” Mace said gently.

Bail sighed. “Yes, that I do know. It’s part of how she ended up with us.”

Mace looked curiously at Bail about that, but sensed that he wasn’t going to get any more information out of him. “It’s going to be difficult to hide that from the Emperor.”

“Yes, it is.”

“If she ever needs someone to train her, tell me.”

“You’re not the first one to offer that. But I’ll ask you if the other doesn’t.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Here.” Bail passed Leia to him, and Mace gently cradled her to his chest. He couldn’t help but smile down at her. She slowly blinked her eyes open and stared up at Mace, enraptured. In a flash, a little hand darted up and grabbed his nose. Mace laughed – the first time he had since that dreadful day five months ago. “She’s a fierce one, isn’t she?”
Bail smiled. “That she is.”

Depa had been stuck on Kaller for quite some time, what with the Empire searching every departing ship. She’d hidden in the shadows and gathered news about the wider galaxy that way. Palpatine had declared himself emperor and the Jedi as traitors, whom were now being hunted down. In that time, she had also heard rumors about why Commander Grey and her men had turned on her so suddenly that night. Whispers of chips inside their heads, that took away their choices and turning them against the Jedi. As horrible as it was, she desperately wanted to believe that this was the case rather than the clones having planned to do this, but it had its own horrifying set of implications.

After a couple months of hiding on Kaller, the lockdown had lifted enough that she was able to stow away on a ship heading to Yaga Minor. From there, she hopped from ship to ship, creating more distance between herself and Kaller.

Depa posed as a common spacer now; using a fake name, wearing her hair in a simple braided bun, and had a blaster and spacer’s clothes in place of her lightsaber and Jedi tunics. She kept them tucked away, as a reminder of her previous life.

Soon, she’d find a way to fight back against the Empire. Find others who were doing so, and join their cause. But for now, the best Depa could do was to keep her head down and do her best to blend in so that the Empire’s attentions passed her by.

The rebellion Bail was making was tiny; it would take time and effort to build it into what it would need to be to topple the Empire. It was a worthy cause, and one Mace was eager to support. At his request, Bail had him in a rather low-key and low visibility position. Mace did small missions, causing minor aggravation to the Empire, as well as helping coordinate between the many small factions involved. Any hint of Jedi involvement would bring the Empire down on all of them, so Mace hid his use of the Force when on missions. It also warmed Mace to see how many of their number he knew – Cham Syndulla was fighting on Ryloth for freedom as fiercely as he had fought against the Separatists. The group of freedom fighters on Onderon that Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Skywalker had helped train. Small groups of resistance fighters that had fought with Republic forces against the Separatists, now standing up to the Empire. In some small way, it made it feel as though something worthwhile had come out of all the Jedi had done in the Clone War.

Some of the Alliance’s groups of Rebels included clones; from them Mace found out about the chips that had made them carry out Palpatine’s order, and he was horrified. Having not directly experienced the clones’ attacks, it was easier for him than it was for other Jedi to reckon with it and trust them, but it was still difficult.

Mace had met some of the fellow surviving Jedi in passing; mostly young Padawans or Knights that he had not had much interaction with previously. It brought him joy to see them alive, but sometimes Mace wished he could see someone he had known well. Depa, especially, was someone he missed dearly – his former Padawan’s steady presence and wry humor in bleak situations.

It had been years since the Purge, and Depa had felt that she had made enough distance between herself and those in the Empire that would be searching for Jedi Master Depa Billaba. And, in that time, she had also found a rebel group to work with. In her time as a smuggler, she’d come across a group of pirates that stole from the Empire and various crime syndicates, redistributing what they stole to the people affected and to their fellow freedom fighters.

This was intriguing to Depa, and she ended up joining them. Their leader, Enna Nest, had welcomed Depa with open arms for her combat experience, piloting skills, and negotiating abilities. Depa, of course, was still hiding that she was a jedi and using a fake name. She had a feeling that Enna suspected that there was more to her than met the eye, and was intrigued by that. Enna’s daughter, Enfys, was just barely young enough to not go out with the rest of the Cloud Riders on raids, and deeply eager to do so. Depa, as the newest member of the Cloud Riders, was a source of interest to her. She asked Depa many questions; about recent missions, planets she’d been to, and how Depa’s diplomacy worked, amongst others. Her curiosity and eagerness to help others reminded Depa of Caleb; she was around the age that Caleb was when Depa first took him on as her Padawan, which only strengthened the resemblance. This stirred up that old grief some, but that grief was never far from the surface anyways.

Kanan paused as he heard a scuffle in an alley he was passing, and peered in. A rodian was being threatened by a couple stormtroopers, and was clearly terrified. Kanan tried to keep walking past; it wasn’t his problem or concern. Couldn’t be his problem or concern, not if he wanted to survive. He found he couldn’t move; he was rooted to the spot. One of the stormtroopers glanced towards the mouth of the alley and saw him standing there like a fool.

“Hey!” the stormtrooper shouted and began raising his blaster towards Kanan. Swiftly, barely even thinking about it, Kanan rushed forward and tore the blaster from the stormtrooper’s hands, shot him, then spun around and shot the other stormtrooper who was threatening the rodian. Kanan lowered the blaster as he and the rodian stared at each other awkwardly. Without taking their eyes off Kanan, they backed away and fled down the alley.

Kanan didn’t stick around after that. With a stunt like that, it was time to leave and head elsewhere. Maybe he’d head to Gorse next.

Depa hummed to herself in her room on the Aerie as she embroidered to cover a recently mended tear in her robes. She was humming a Jedi meditation song she had learned as a youngling and had remained one of her favorites. It had been a while since she had embroidered, and the push and pull of the thread was as soothing and meditative as ever. Seeing the neatly mended tear being covered and reinforced with the radiant flowers (one of Caleb’s favorites, she remembered) she was stitching over it felt healing; a wound, brought together with careful stitches and then covered with something beautiful. The wound wasn’t gone, but something new grew from it.

“May I speak with you?” Enna called from the other side of the door. Bemused, Depa set aside her project and let Enna into her quarters.

“Tea?” Depa offered, rummaging around in her cabinet for her teas. She had been lucky enough that she had still been able to find most of her favorites and keep a good stock of them with her.

“Yes, please,” Enna said, setting down her mask beside her. Depa bustled around her kitchenette, absent-mindedly making the tea that Mace used to make for her on difficult days. Hmm. Instinctively grabbing that tea did not bode well for the direction of this conversation.

Depa settled back down at her small table, across from Enna, and passed a mug to her. They each took a sip, before Depa asked, “So. You wanted to speak with me? What about?”

“I know you have been . . . sparse, about the details of your past, and I understand that. Understand that I have not been actively looking into it, but, well . . .” Enna took a deep breath. “I’m not a fool. I can put together what I’ve seen you do when you think no one is paying attention with the stories I’ve heard.”

Depa winced; Weazel had gotten tangled in some loose cords and almost taken a tumble off the side of the Imperial base that they were attacking last mission. Depa had used the Force to help catch him, but had hoped that it had been subtle. Then again, Enna was clever and had suspected that there was something Depa was hiding for a while. Perhaps this had been inevitable.

Enna made eye contact and reached across the table to clasp Depa’s hands. “You’re a Jedi, aren’t you? Or you were one, once.”

Depa kept her head high. “Yes.”

To her credit, Enna only appeared slightly surprised that Depa did not contest the accusation. “That is not an issue for me, of course. I appreciate that you are helping us at great risk to yourself. The Jedi did as much as they could to help people while the Republic existed and during the Clone Wars, and I appreciate that. No reasonable person would have blamed you for going completely to ground.”

“I couldn’t just turn my back on the suffering of the galaxy.”

“And, from what I have heard about the Jedi, that is exactly how one would act.” Enna and Depa smiled at each other. Enna continued, “You are one of us, and we will look out for you. This place can be home for you for as long as you want.”

Depa dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Thank you. This has been a home for me for some time; I am glad to stay.”

“Is there a name you would rather use?”

“Depa.” She said, for the first time in years.

Gorse was full of mud, and overall not a pleasant place to live, but it’d do for a temporary stop in his meandering life. Kanan’s job as a pilot for Moonglow wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst either.
Okadiah was a decent landlord and co-pilot – and though Kanan would never say it out loud – a good friend too. The Asteroid Belt was shoddy and run down like the rest of Gorse, but it almost felt like home in a way.

It felt alarmingly comfortable – as though Kanan could stay and settle down for a long time. He didn’t like that feeling at all. Safety came from movement, from never putting down roots with people or places. And Gorse – and Okadiah – were tempting him to do so.

Bail had gotten wind of a group of Rebels that he thought could be good allies; the Cloud Riders in the Bheriz sector. A pirate group that targeted various crime syndicates and the Empire, but distributed what they stole to those affected and local resistance groups. Mace agreed that they could be a good asset, and help with distributing resources to the disparate groups that formed the Alliance. So, he went to Reesaria, where they had last been spotted, to hopefully find and contact the Cloud Riders.

The Cloud Riders were not easy to track or find, which Mace had anticipated. Rebel groups had to make themselves hard for the Empire to find, which had the downside of making them hard for allies to find as well. Still, this wasn’t the first time Mace had done this, and he managed to track them to their ship. He arrived to see the Cloud Riders packing away their latest bounty onto their ship.

His arrival was clearly a surprise to the Cloud Riders, but they swiftly regrouped as he drove into their camp. Mace held his hands up in the surrender position as he slid off his speeder bike. “I come in peace.”

Reasonably, the Cloud Riders didn’t believe this and encircled him. Their leader, with the distinctive spiked mask, stood opposite of Mace. He kept a calm demeanor as he subtly observed the Cloud Riders around him. There was a wide variety of heights and shapes, all obscured by robes and masked helmets. Each was different, but there unity in the style of them. The spikes were limited to their leader; none of the others had anything so eye-catching that made them stand out from each other. And yet, there was one that Mace couldn’t help but take a second look at.
Something about the Cloud Rider third from the left of their leader seemed familiar to Mace, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about them was familiar. They were covered head to toe, with a rounded mask with a reflective visor and flowing robes that fit in with the rest of the Cloud Rider’s garb – but something about them vaguely reminded Mace of Jedi robes. The overall effect of the made it impossible to determine the species, age, gender, or any identifying features of whoever was under the mask. That did seem to be the point. But that made it much more difficult to figure out why Mace felt that they were familiar.

Their stance, perhaps. The way they held themself, the tilt of their head as though they were trying to figure him out. The way they leaned ever so slightly forward, like Depa had always done when she was listening intently to someone. Mace had teased her about it often when she was his Padawan – Wait. It couldn’t be?

Now was not the time, though. Right now, Mace needed to deescalate this situation so that he could come to an alliance with the Cloud Riders.

“I come here in peace, in search of an alliance with you.” He said.

“And why should I trust that? Who are you?” the leader snarled behind their mask.

Mace took a brief calming breath and got ready to settle in for a longer discussion. Before he could begin saying his response, the third Cloud Rider from the left – the hauntingly familiar one - stepped forward.

“Enna. Allow me to speak with him.” Their helmet distorted their voice as well, but the cadence was achingly familiar.

Enna Nest nodded, acquiescing to them. They strode forward, steadily and stately, full of confidence, just how Depa had. They stopped mere steps away, and seemed to stare intently at Mace. He slowly drew his hands out of the surrender position and gently pulled his hood down. The Cloud Rider twitched slightly – imperceptible unless you knew what to look for. They reached for their helmet and pulled it off gracefully, letting it drop to the ground beside them.

Depa Billaba smiled back at Mace, softly. The years apart had aged her, as they had him. There were a few more wrinkles on her face; her Marks of Illumination still sat upon her brow as they had since she received them on Chalacta. Her hair, still in its looped braids, had silver streaks in it now. But her smile and her eyes were as warm as they always had been.

“Hello, Mace. It’s been a long time.”

“Depa,” he breathed, as she drew him into a hug. He hugged back just as fiercely. Some of the grief of these hard years eased at seeing her alive and well.

Depa drew back slightly and turned called to her fellow Cloud Riders. “Stand down, he’s a friend.”

The Cloud Riders lowered their weapons and stepped out of their war footing. And with Depa vouching for his trustworthiness, Enna Nest was more than willing to hear him out.

“I’d love to be involved with more Rebel groups – we distribute most of what we steal to civilians, but it would be very simple for us to send some of it to other groups. We would need someone to coordinate between us and your cell.” Enna looked over at Depa. “Depa?”

“I would be honored to do so,” Depa said.

“Good. I trust you to know how our skills could be best utilized and your diplomatic skills would, I am sure, be valuable to the Rebellion.” Enna smiled wryly. “Just come back to us from time to time. You will always be welcome here.”

“Of course, Enna. I would never dream of leaving all of you behind.”

“Good. We’ll leave you to catch up, Master Jedi.” Enna said, nodding to both of them as she and the rest of the Cloud Riders left, returning to their tasks.

Mace blinked in surprise. “How? I thought I was fairly subtle.”

Depa laughed slightly. “Enna figured me out years ago, fairly soon after I joined the Cloud Riders. Given how I greeted you, it’s not that hard to connect the dots.”

“Fair enough,” Mace agreed.

Depa motioned for Mace to follow her, and brought him to her quarters on the Cloud Rider’s ship, the Aerie. Mace smiled when he noticed an embroidered wall hanging, clearly made by Depa, on the far wall.

“Tea?” Depa said, already pulling out what looked like the mint tea he favored.

“You keep a box of this on hand?”

Depa shrugged. “It reminds me of you.”

Mace smiled tenderly. “I’ve kept a box of your hibiscus tea as well, despite how terrible it is.”

Depa grinned ruefully. “Reminders of people who are gone help to keep their presence in our lives.”

“Yes.”

Depa set two steaming mugs of tea on her small kitchen table as they sat down. “So, Master, how have you been?”
Mace sighed. “It’s been rough times. Lost a hand trying to arrest Palpatine before he became Emperor, but at least he thinks the fall killed me. I thought Bail was likely to be planning a rebellion and I was right; I’ve been working for him since a few months after the Empire formed. Met several other surviving Jedi but you’re the first surviving Master I have found. How long have you been with the Cloud Riders?”

“A couple years. I posed as a smuggler before then to put some distance between myself and anyone looking for me before I started looking for ways to rebel against the Empire. And truthfully, I was running from what happened for some of that time.”

Mace already had an idea of what Depa had been running from – Caleb was conspicuously absent. So he asked, though he already knew the answer. “Caleb?”

“I tried to buy him time to run, but he didn’t make it.” Depa’s breath hitched as her deep-rooted grief echoed in the Force.

Mace scooted his chair around the table and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they sat there and grieved the youngest member of their lineage together.

Reuniting with Mace had been wonderful, and something Depa had never expected. She hadn’t encountered any other surviving Jedi at that point, and it had been rather lonely. Knowing that Mace was out there was not only the relief in that her Master was alive, but also that she was not the only survivor of her people. Mace had said that he had met a couple other surviving Jedi – that they were mostly Padawans and younglings, and that their generations – the Masters, the Knights – had sacrificed themselves to save the younger ones, leading to, as far as he knew, them being the only Masters who had survived this long. That made sense; Depa had tried and failed to do the same for Caleb, and Masters were more well known and more likely to be recognized and caught later. The mask Depa wore as a Cloud Rider was useful for many reasons, not just to keep dust out of her vision.

Still. It would be nice to see another Jedi survivor.

Sometime afterwards, Depa got her chance.

It happened during one of the Cloud Riders’ attacks on an Imperial supply convoy. Everything had been going smoothly, until another group showed up also trying to hijack the shipment.
The Cloud Riders were skilled, of course, but they had not been expecting another group to attack as well. Chaos erupted as they fought back to defend the shipment – they had to be careful, because anyone also attacking an Imperial convoy like this was an ally of some kind.

The other attackers were quick, and managed to grab both crates of explosives that the Cloud Riders were specifically targeting. While the other Cloud Riders secured some of the lower-priority supplies, Depa pursued the redheaded human who had grabbed their target. She was fast, but so was he. They raced along the top of the convoy, dodging blasterfire as the other group’s ship got into position to pick him up.

Keeping a tight grip on the two of the crates, he leapt up onto their ascending ship’s ramp, twisting around as he did so. Depa was struck by a bolt of recognition as she got a clear view of his face.
That looked like – Cal Kestis? Master Tapal’s psychometric Padawan? He and Caleb had been friendly in the Temple, exploring all the nooks and crannies they could find. Jaro and Depa had frequently scoured the Temple together, looking for their wayward Padawans. He sported some new scars on his face, but it was quite clearly Cal.

Startled, Depa removed her mask and looked up at where Cal was standing on the ship’s ramp. His eyes widened as he recognized her, but the ship was already rapidly rising. He ran to the edge and waved, tossing one of the crates overboard. Depa caught it and waved back at him, until the ship rose enough that he disappeared from view.

Well. Depa would have to tell Enna that they had only recovered half of the explosives payload, but had encountered another Jedi. And that, despite losing part of the shipment to him, was good news.

Mace saw familiar faces often; as head of the Jedi Council, he had interacted with many people, and those connections served him well in making alliances for the Rebellion. Sometimes, though, the familiar faces were familiar in a different way; a fellow Jedi, for instance.

Once, Mace was lurking in a corner of a marketplace, sipping a caf while waiting for a contact to meet up with him, when a tall togruta in a gray cloak passed by. Something about her seemed very familiar. Mace watched her from the corner of his eye as she wandered through the stalls. As she paused to pick up a pastry, she turned and her hood slipped just enough for Mace to see a familiar face.

Good. Ahsoka had made it off of Mandalore. She looked older and wearier than the last time he saw her, and her markings had started to split from stress. But she was alive. Mace went to get up to greet her – his contact wasn’t supposed to get here for a couple more minutes anyway, and he could always pass Ahsoka his comm information to contact him later – when a green twi’lek in a pilot’s uniform slid into the seat across from him. Adjusting the goggles perched on her head, she said, “The Cloudshape Falls are beautiful this time of year.”

Damn. His contact had arrived early. “Yes, but lovelier in springtime.”

By the time he'd finished passing information about the budding situation on Gorse to Captain Syndulla (she had definitely inherited Cham's fierce focus), Ahsoka Tano was nowhere to be found in the marketplace.

Enna had died from a wound sustained on the Cloud Rider’s last mission. Her daughter, Enfys, had taken over for her, and was doing an admirable job. But Enna had left big shoes (and armor) to fill, and

Enfys was only sixteen. The pressure was getting to her.

Depa elegantly crouched down beside her, peering down into the canyon that the Cloud Riders were staking out. “You’re doing well at a very difficult task, you know.”

Enfys snorted. “You really think so.”

“Yes. It’s different, of course, but I faced a similar challenge during the Clone Wars.”

“How so?”

“Jedi are not and were not meant to be military leaders. We’re diplomats, peacekeepers. We did not have a choice but to join the war effort – Palpatine did not allow that – but we wanted to and should have been diplomats. None of us knew how to lead an army, not really. We learned as we went. We made mistakes and felt overwhelmed by the responsibility we had to our men.

“But we kept going. Because if we hadn’t led, no one would have. At least, those leading the army would have mistreated the men.”

“And how does that relate to this?” Enfys asked, somewhat confused.

“My point is,” Depa said, “Having to lead in a way you were not prepared for is difficult, and you shouldn’t have had to have this must responsibility at your age, but you are holding up well.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Since meeting Hera and saving them both from that piece of debris on Count Vidian’s ship, Kanan eased his way into opening himself up to the Force. Not all at once; he was still feeling rather skittish about that. But slowly, steadily, reconnecting with a part of himself he’d locked away for years. The Force had felt like a phantom limb when he had cut it off – he could feel both its presence and its absence at the same time. Not a great feeling. Now, using it felt like sinking into a hot spring and getting set on fire at the same time – the Force was familiar and comforting around him, but agonizingly different from what it was. So much Darker – he couldn’t feel any of his fellow Jedi through the Force. They were all gone, after all, and the Sith ruled the galaxy.

Still. The Force was a part of him and he didn’t need to hide from Hera. It was best to refamiliarize himself with the Force – it had saved Hera’s life on that ship, and could do so again. And deep down, he was sick of denying who he was.

Kanan settled deeper into the Force, relaxing into it like a hot bath. It swirled around him and brushed against him, welcoming him back with open arms. He felt a brief flash of a familiar peaceful steady calm. It felt like – Master Billaba? No. She was dead. Kanan had felt her die, had seen her die. This was an echo or his imagination. He rapidly withdrew from the Force.
Alright. As much as Kanan knew he needed to work on reconnecting with the Force, he wouldn’t be doing that again for a while.

Sometimes, Depa thought she felt Caleb. A brief flicker of fear, or determination, or joy rippling through the Force but soon vanished. It was surely wishful thinking; he wasn’t on the list of Jedi the Empire was looking for as far as she could tell. He’d only been a Padawan, not yet ready to spread his wings on his own in the galaxy. Clones, inquisitors, bounty hunters, pirates, smugglers – any one of them could have gotten Caleb. Those brief bursts were her imagination, or the echoes of his life still ringing out in the Force he had become one with. Her bright, curious Padawan was one with the Force, and she had to keep moving lest she also become one with it.

Meditating had gotten easier for Mace over the years since the Empire rose; at first the Force had been screaming with the deaths of so many Jedi at once. The turmoil from the Jedi purge was still present in the Force, but it was more like background noise now. If Mace had not known what it had once felt like – full of Light and the presences of his fellow Jedi glowing softly within it – he wouldn’t have known what was missing. The Force felt empty, compared to how it once felt.

But sometimes, Mace felt a blip of a presence from another Jedi. He wasn’t sure if this was just echoes of their lives radiating through the Force now that they were one with it, or currently alive Jedi connecting with the Force themselves. He felt Depa often now, and he knew she was alive. Ahsoka’s presence occasionally emerged for a few moments, fierce and bright before fading away again. Yoda sporadically made an appearance, and seemed to settle next to Mace while he meditated. Group meditation across a great distance, it seemed like. Sometimes, Mace could swear he felt Obi-Wan, somber and sad, in the Force. That one made sense; Mace was fairly certain who Vader was under that mask (and that Mace himself had lost a hand to him) and if Obi-Wan had been caught, Vader would have made quite the fuss over that.

It was a nice thought, that Obi-Wan was still out there somewhere. Though it of course begged the question of where he was and why he was in hiding instead of in Bail’s alliance. Mace had a feeling he’d find out the reason some day.

Caleb flickered in briefly; more as the years went by, but he was certainly one with the Force. The flickers of his presence in the Force always brought a bittersweet feeling to Mace; his Grand-Padawan had been wonderful, eager, and so very bright. And as all Padawans were, complete vengeance on Depa for all her mischief as a Padawan. Her distraught amusement as to how to handle such a curious and inquisitive Padawan, and all the trouble he found for himself, had been one of the great amusements that kept Mace going during the Clone Wars. Sensing Caleb in the Force always reopened that wound, but it also reminded Mace of the good times with Caleb as well.

Zeb was a new addition to the Ghost. It was taking some adjustments, getting used to there being more than just himself and Hera and Chopper on the ship and on jobs. Kanan and Hera and Chopper had a rhythm that they fell into easily after all their time working together. A hostile rhythm on Chopper’s part, but a rhythm nonetheless. They were working on fully incorporating Zeb into this rhythm.
Kanan found Zeb sitting at the Sabacc table one night, contemplating the universe in his mug of tea. Kanan recognized that particular flavor of shaken post-nightmare tea staring from his own bad nights. His current bad night wasn’t exactly that flavor, but close. Treading more heavily so as to give Zeb a warning that another person was entering the room, Kanan shuffled to the kitchen to make himself his own mug of tea. Perusing the various boxes they had, he decided on the hibiscus tea that Master Billaba had favored; he had a feeling he’d need that comforting flavor by the time his and Zeb’s talk ended. After the tea finished steeping, he carefully maneuvered his way back to sit by Zeb.

“Nightmare?”

Zeb grunted noncommittally in response.

Alright, it looked like Kanan was going to have to start this conversation. “I get it, I’ve been there too. It’s quite the thing to have to reckon with.”

Zeb’s fur bristled, defensive. “And what is that?”

Slowly, Kanan grabbed the pieces of his lightsaber from his belt and clicked them together for the first time in a long, long time. Carefully, he set it lightly on the table – he didn’t want to spook Zeb, after all.

Zeb squinted at it, uncomprehending for a moment, before his eyes widened and his ears flicked forward in surprise. He slumped back into the seat. “A Jedi, huh?”

Kanan nodded as he took apart his lightsaber and clipped it back onto his belt.

Zeb huffed a small, mirthless laugh. “You would get it, then.”

Kanan made an encouraging noise. Zeb was silent for a long moment, staring blankly at the table, before he said anything.

“You’ve had longer than I have. How do you forget the sound of your world falling apart? All of the screaming?”

Starting with the hard questions, he thought, with the echo of Master Billaba’s screamed “run” reverberating in his head. But there were no easy questions here, were there. Kanan sighed. “You don’t. You never do. It will always be with you, but you have to not let it rule you. You can’t let their memory only be of how it was all destroyed. You are all that is left, and it’s up to us to remember all of it.”

Zeb sighed. “I suppose so. That’s not a simple thing to do.”

“None of it is.”

They talked late into the night, and a tension they hadn’t even noticed before eased. It wasn’t as though they suddenly knew how to work and exist together with ease, but it was a start.

“How did the raid on the coaxium shipment on Vandor go?” Depa asked Enfys as she returned to the Aerie after a minor mission run with Mace. It was always wonderful to work with Mace, no matter the stakes and the fact that they couldn’t openly act as Jedi. They were as in-sync as they ever were, and Mace could usually wrangle enough time for them to meditate together, or spar. Sometimes, they even had enough time to cook together. It helped both of them reconnect with themselves, each other, and their culture. They’d meditated together after this last mission, then made dumplings, and it had helped Depa work through some of her recent stress about Crimson Dawn’s growing power.

Enfys Nest hummed; her mask made it sound crackly. “We got the coaxium but – the plan went wrong almost from the start.”

Depa listened incredulously as Enfys explained exactly how off the rails things had gone – from the shipment crashing into the side of a mountain after fighting over it with Beckett and his crew, to following Beckett’s crew to Savareen after they stole unrefined coaxium from Kessel and confronting them there. Beckett’s newest crewmember agreeing to help, and coming up with a plan to outwit Dryden Vos. Dryden Vos’s death – which was very good news – and Beckett’s – which was unfortunate but would no longer be an obstacle. The crewmember declining Enfys’ offer of joining the Rebellion.

“I delivered the coaxium to Saw Gerrara, as promised. He brought his ward with him – which, I didn’t know he had one – but the hand off went well.” She paused. “I am disappointed that Solo didn’t join – he was a good pilot and fighter.”

“You gave him an opportunity to join the Rebellion and do good, and it sounds like he would have been a good fit in the Rebellion, but it also sounds like he was not ready to admit that and is running from something. I have a feeling that he’ll come around when he’s finished running.”

Enfys dipped her head. “Perhaps.”

“And you did a good job leading this. You got the coaxium the Rebellion needed, made allies to get it using diplomacy, and those allies could come in handy later. Well done.” Depa placed a hand on Enfys’ shoulder. “Your mother would be very proud of what you have accomplished here.”

“Thank you, Depa.”

Kanan smiled as he snuggled closer to Hera. It was nice to lay in bed, nestled under the blankets, and just be. Especially with the chaos of their expanding crew. They’d had Zeb for a while and he had settled in well, but their newest crewmember, Sabine, a young teenage Mandalorian, could be a handful at times.

“You know, love, we’ve got quite the family going here.” Hera said, breaking the comfortable silence they’d settled into.

Kanan stiffened slightly. “Oh?”

“In a good way, love” Hera soothed. “We’ve both lost a lot to the Empire, and it’s nice to see something being rebuilt from those ashes.”

“That’s true.” Kanan sighed. “It’s still hard to not think of who isn’t here and should be here.”

“For various reasons.” Hera said, and Kanan winced, thinking about Hera’s very strained relationship with her father.

“If he had any sense, he would be proud of what you’re doing and what you’ve accomplished.”

Hera smiled at him wryly, knowing that that was meant to comfort her as much as it was to deflect from himself. After a pause, she said. “They’d be proud of you. Happy that you’ve found this for yourself.”
Kanan knew this, deep down, but that didn’t erase the ache of Master Billaba and Master Windu and the rest of the Jedi’s absence. They would be happy, he knew, that he wasn’t just running anymore, and that he was letting others into his life. And as good as he was doing – as wonderful as it was to have this family on the Ghost – he fiercely missed his fellow Jedi. Even the knowledge that there was someone else who made it, that he wasn’t alone, would have almost been enough at this point.

Bail greeted Mace and Depa warmly as they entered his ship; a rendezvous in deep space, away from the many prying eyes watching him. “Master Windu, Master Billaba! It is good to see you well.”

Depa smiled wryly. “And you as well, old friend.”

“I have a mission for you, and a couple old friends I thought you would like to see.”

Depa’s breath caught. She still hadn’t encountered many other Jedi – none, really, since she ran into Cal Kestis that one time in passing – and while the phrase “old friends” could refer to many people she had known, the likelihood of them being Jedi was high.

“He’s been mostly focusing on The Hidden Path – getting Jedi and Force-Sensitive individuals away from the Empire. But we’ve kept in contact so that he can direct Jedi that wish to fight towards the Rebellion. He recently got wind of some information he thought could be of use to us.”

“Who is it?” Depa asked.

“See for yourself,” Bail said, then called to someone outside the room. “You can come in now.”

Quinlan Vos strode into the room with a swagger and waved cheerfully. Depa had never been so glad to see him as she was now.

“Hell-lo, Counselors!” Quinlan drawled. “Miss me?”

That startled a laugh out of Depa, and Mace’s mouth twitched into a semblance of a smile.

“It’s good to see the two of you alive, especially since dear old Palps is so pleased about you being dead, Mace. How’d you survive that anyway?”

“It takes more than losing a hand and a fall to kill me.”

Quinlan opened his mouth to respond, but Bail hastily interrupted in an attempt to keep this meeting on track. “Quinlan, you have some information?”

“Ah, I see how it is, all work and no fun. But yeah, I do. The Hidden Path has heard of a defected inquisitor.”

“What?” Depa said, confused. She had been lucky to only hear of Inquisitors or see them from a distance, but from all she knew a defection seemed practically impossible.

“I know, it’s unheard of,” Quinlan said. “She went after a Jedi and a kid he was protecting, ended up at a Hidden Path base and tried to tear it apart to get to the Jedi. The personnel escaped but didn’t have a lot of information to pass on about what happened – it sounds like when Vader showed up, she attacked him instead. Then dropped off the map for some years before reappearing a few weeks ago to attack an Imperial base. Figured I should let you guys know to be on the lookout for her.”

Quinlan tossed a holopuck on the table. It lit up to show a young human woman with cornrows neatly pulled back and out of the way. “Name is Reva Sevander, it looks like she used to be a Jedi youngling. Must have somehow survived the attack on the Temple.”

Mace winced, and Depa set a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, knowing he must be blaming himself for not finding her in the Temple when he got there. Or for not getting to the Temple in time, not that he could have done anything.

Bail nodded. “We’ll keep an eye out for her.”

Quinlan tilted his head, a calculating expression on his face. “I figured I would come in person and update you on this – figured your contact wouldn’t be up to date on this.”

Bail’s eyes widened slightly. “What contact are you talking about?”

“Why, the Jedi she was chasing, of course.” Quinlan’s grin widened as he looked towards Depa and Mace. “That was what I also came here to say. There have been a couple Jedi that popped up out of the woodwork lately. Hadn’t even heard about either of them until they showed up on the path.”

“Who?” Mace asked.

Quinlan’s smile softened from his usual confident smirk to something gentler. “Aayla popped up one day and insisted on helping with the Path. Somehow she’d survived all this time without even a hint that she’d done so, was even on the list of confirmed dead Jedi. That’s promising for the chances of others surviving. And, well, always good to know your Padawan survived.”

“That’s great to hear,” Depa said.

“I know that feeling,” Mace said, glancing over at Depa compassionately. Quinlan made an apologetic gesture and Depa waved it off.

“And this particular Jedi, I’m sure, already relayed some of the situation with Reva Sevander to you.” Quinlan said, spinning around to look at Bail, whose face was suddenly extraordinarily blank. “Imagine how surprised I was to hear that the Jedi Reva was hunting for so desperately, that had Vader chasing him to this base, was Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking after Bail Organa’s recently kidnapped daughter.”

“What the hell?” Mace said.

“Exactly. Organa, what happened there?” Quinlan demanded. Mace and Depa also stared at Bail, who shifted in his seat slightly.

“I had been hoping to keep this secret, because Obi-Wan did not want anyone to know, but yes, he is alive. When Leia was kidnapped, I reached out to him to rescue her because he knew what was at stake there.”

“He’s who offered first to train Leia, isn’t he?” Mace said, clearly thinking out loud. Depa looked at him with confusion, and Quinlan raised a questioning eyebrow at her, asking if she knew. She shook her head in response.

“Maybe.”

“What’s he been doing all these years?” Depa asked, with Quinlan nodding his head emphatically.

“Obi-Wan has something important to look after, that I am not at liberty to tell you. He is pretending to be dead so as to not draw attention to it, and I cannot tell you more than that.” Bail said carefully.

“Oh come on!” Quinlan groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “You’ve gotta give us more than that, we can keep a secret!”

“Obi-Wan specifically does not want any information to be shared. You’ll know when he decides to share it.”

“Force, why does he always have to be so cryptic?” Quinlan lamented.

“Is he even aware that we are alive?” Depa asked.

Bail hesitated. “Well, not as such. But I still can’t tell you anything about where Obi-Wan is and none of you can tell anyone that he’s alive either. Clear?”

They grumbled, with Quinlan by far grumbled the loudest, but relented.

One day Obi-Wan would surface and they’d see what he had been doing all of these years. But for now, the knowledge that he was alive would have to be enough.