Chapter Text
The wild patter of the children’s footsteps mingled with an all-too-synchronized, all-too-unnaturally-perfect thunder steadily approaching. It made him think of the droids, lifeless, mindless, cold. He wished these were droids.
Appo, Kickback, Longshot…
…What happened…?
This time he listened to the tiny voice screaming that there must be some mistake because these were his boys, his *brothers*, the men who’d had his back battle after battle and year after year through a war they had no choice but to fight. This couldn’t be a simple betrayal, it just wasn’t because his boys weren’t like that.
He let the tears out this time.
A bolt nearly the same shade as his saber flew at him and missed by about a foot.
Another reason this can’t be them.
He scoffed at the thought.
My boys don’t miss.
He heard the tiny twi’lek girl’s scream and turned his focus back to helping the children that had put their trust in him (in the wrong place), throwing out his hands to slam the door shut the moment he saw the last child slip into the dark.
Ashla’s eyes lit with blue flame again and she let out a cry, flinging her tiny body at the crack right before the massive stone door hid her from view, desperate not to leave another behind. He could almost hear her mental cry of “No, not you too, not anyone else.”
“I’m sorry…” He whispered, a near-silent promise to another he would have to leave, another promise likely broken.
He wondered if she’d live to hate him for it.
Another plasma bolt whizzed past his head, much closer now, and the attackers came into full view for the first time. Bolts flew down the hall in rapid bursts, and the aim was getting better with each shot.
All he could do was pray that they hadn’t seen the children or noticed the door shut.
All he could do was hope he would live long enough to keep his latest promise, even as he felt anger rising in his throat again.
A bolt slipped past his defenses and grazed his wrist, not enough to be serious but enough to bleed, and a sign that he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer. He swore internally as another flew just over his shoulder.
Not good.
Blood from the wound in his wrist was dripping down to his hand, making his grip on his ‘saber slip just enough to be way too risky.
Time to get out.
He waited, blocked what he could, and the moment he saw a chance (a gap in their middle) he threw out his uninjured hand and the Force sent them flying back. Some hit the wall and slumped in heaps, others seemed just dazed enough for a break in the fire.
Anakin ran.
His thoughts raced as he reached the threshold of a nearby room, glancing back for just long enough to make sure that those who were getting up were coming for him, not the children, and slammed the durasteel door shut tight.
About five injured or unconscious, six or so still on their feet. Should take them a bit to hardwire the door or break it down. Speaking of-
He checked the door to see if it could be locked and breathed a quiet thanks to the Force that it could. The lock slid into place with a satisfying click.
Now I have a minute.
His gaze swept around the room and fell first on a large window (hopefully not transparisteel), and likely his best means of escape, so he turned his gaze to the rest of the room in hopes of spotting something to break it.
Mostly empty, except…. Force, that’s Tal and Ker…
Death was something he'd seen a million times before, cold and ruthless and without favorites to leave untouched. He already hated watching the color drain from an already pale face and feeling the heat fade from fingers wrapped in his, hated it, but to feel so many people he'd grown with, lived with, known for years, fade like this…
“Your luck finally ran out, huh.” He whispered. “You were supposed to outlive us all, you di'kute.”
The cold was back.
He felt so numb.
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the clones were still not through the door and figured from the blurred voices and sound of pulling wires that he still had about two minutes. More than enough time.
The twins were still holding hands, fingers wrapped tightly enough that all blood flow had surely been cut off even before they perished, and he place his hands on top of theirs.
“Ni su'cuyi…”
He remembered the first time Tal had found him in a hallway, only a year or so after he’d joined the order, with tears on his face and eyes on the barely visible stars above Coruscant, the way she’d sat down next to him and just waited for him instead of pressing, and swallowed hard.
“Gar kyr'adyc…”
He remembered Ker’s initial reluctance and snark, unwilling to accept an ‘outsider’, until Tal convinced him that Anakin really wasn’t and the first time Ker named the stars with them.
“Ni partayli, gar darasuum.”
The lump in his throat swelled.
“Tal, and Ker.” He smiled weakly. “You’ll live longer among the stars than you ever would’ve here, I guess. I hope your luck follows you.”
When he pulled his hands away he saw that the blood on his hand from the wound on his wrist had left a red handprint on top of theirs. It felt right somehow, that he left something behind with them, marked them with his blood.
He got up to go, then stopped. It didnt feel right to leave yet, not when his brothers - because they were still his brothers, even through treason, and this couldn’t be simple betrayal, it just. Couldn’t. Be. - were being left behind, no mark, no remembrance.
The body of a fallen 501st trooper lay nearby, and he wondered if he’d recognize the face behind the helmet, but there wasn’t time. He pressed his palm against the armor and whispered a quick apology, before pulling the nearest heavy piece of debris across the room and into his hands.
The window shattered on impact.
Not transparasteel, then.
There was a pounding on the door and a hiss came from the edges as they un-sealed before it started to slide open.
He jumped.