#and yet the jedi taught her to leave them behind battle after battle; nothing

[firefly-fez]

nothing gets to me about star wars like the fact that ahsoka and rex were forced to leave dead brothers discarded and abandoned in the ruins of war literally day after day, battle after battle, and the first thing they do when the war is over is take the time to bury the dead.

#ahsoka #rex #captain rex #star wars clone wars #clone wars #ahsoka tano #ill bet you 100 republic credits it was ahsoka’s idea #rex was raised on war running on autopilot; compartmentalising; running through the mental mission checklist of a soldier #when he takes note of ahsoka standing there #rex has been conditioned to see leaving the dead behind as an act of efficiency; burials are a luxury you don’t have on the battlefield #he honestly doesn’t even think to do anythjng other than walk away from the rubble where his brothers lie #it might seem callous but it’s all he’s ever known; he’s done it a million times #but ahsoka? #honouring the dead is supposed to be a sacred part of jedi tradition because life itself is sacred #and yet the jedi taught her to leave them behind battle after battle; nothing #even while they insisted on the tradition whenever a jedi died like kalifa or master piell #but never for the clones; like they didn’t count #as if their fate wasn’t in glaring contradiction with everything the jedi stood for #so when the war is over #and she stands before the wreckage #she says to herself; no. no more. #i choose compassion #i will honour the dead #its not a victory. they didn’t win. they survived but it’s not a victory. #but this burial is a mercy they didn’t have in wartime #and; by the force; they take it

[subbing-for-clones]

The Defective Jedi

Chapter 1

Word count: 2.2k

Trigger Warnings: None really, just some fighting

Every day you tried to forget and yet almost every night you remembered. Wandering through the crystal caves of Ilum was horribly cold and felt so lonely. You were never particularly strong with the force but you always felt it. That connection between all things living and the energy it permeated, but when you entered the cave you felt, nothing. Why did you feel nothing?

You heard the other younglings yipping in happiness and laughing in triumph as one by one they found their kyber crystals and still, nothing called for you. Time was running out before the entrance became a wall of ice with no escape and even as a child you accepted defeat before you accepted death. You were the last to leave and the only one who was left empty handed. You would remember the disappointed look of Master Yoda forever, his eyes turned to the snow beneath his feet with a pained look before he looked back up at you.

It wasn’t long after that you were sent back home to Lothal. You had taken your parents pride and sullied it with failure and you don’t think they ever forgave you for it. It was true, you had failed before you even really got started. Your connection to the force just wasn’t strong enough to be a Jedi.

Still, you refused to let the connection go. You spent your formative years practicing the techniques you were able to learn in your short time studying under the jedi. Hours meditating every rotation searching for that warmth. You did find it; you could still feel it and so you taught yourself as much as you could.

Once you were able to venture out on your own you left Lothal and your parents’ resentment behind. Never really setting up a home; you joined a bounty hunter’s guild instead and used your abilities to become a fairly prolific hunter. It was during these years that all hell broke lose as war erupted all over the galaxy.

Only one year in and it wasn’t looking good. Hundreds of Jedi had fallen to the separatist forces and they needed help. This was when a desperate plea rang across the galaxy for the aid of anyone with force sensitive capabilities to come and join the fight for the republic. Whether it was out of the desire to help or need to prove yourself to the ones who threw you out you weren’t sure; still you answered their call.

You were tested and trained in a group of others with similar stories to your own under several rotating Jedi. At the end of your training, you were assigned to be exactly what you already were; a fighter. You were assigned to various squads as aid and back up; using your intuition, strategy skills and your fighting expertise on the battle field with the clones. You’d never hold a rank above a grunt but you didn’t care. Every victory was a curse on the Jedi for giving you up.

After months of rotating between battalions you were about to receive your permanent assignment. Clone Force 99, a rag tag team of four, apparently defective, clones. The irony didn’t escape you.

“Why are we getting a Jedi?” Hunter asked the hologram of Cody. The others standing back but still in view of the commander.

“She’s not a Jedi, she’s one of the force sensitives the Jedi asked to join the cause. She doesn’t hold rank over you, you’re still in charge.”

“I don’t like it.” Sneered Crosshair.

“Well, you don’t have much of a choice. The higher ups want these people sprinkled out through all the squads in case of a Sith attack. The Jedi worry about them rising up with the appearance of a few and quite frankly, no clone stands a chance agianst them. They can wipe out battalions.”

“When is she joining and for how long?” The Sergent was growing impatient and didn’t like the idea of a new member being added to their group.

“She’s waiting on Kamino for you now so you’ll meet her upon arrival, she’ll be with you until the war is over or until she runs as fast as she can away from you.” The commander had a small smirk on his face that Hunter mirrored. The idea of sending a Jedi, or whatever, running amused him.

            Once they touched down on Kamino three out of the four were sightly on edge with the exception or Wrecker who seemed rather excited. He was generally the most welcoming. The worry melted away as soon as they laid eyes on you. You really didn’t look like a Jedi at all. You looked like an operative. Instead of a robe you wore black armor and in the place of a lightsaber at your hip, you had a blaster and a large curved vibro-blade.

Crosshair couldn’t help but eye you up and down the armor looked good on you. You took each of them in once you took your helmet off and introduced yourself to your new companions, a dance you’ve done before. Wrecker was kind enough to grab the two crates of your belongings and load them onto the ship. There wasn’t much time for pleasantries before you received your first mission. You were to extract data from an outpost on Teth and upload it straight to Cody. Information about prisoners of war and where they were being held was your main objective. Anything else was an added bonus. You all loaded onto the ship after eating a hearty meal in the cafeteria.

In the back of the ship next to the bunks you unpacked a few things from your crates.

“Whatchya got there?” Wrecker asked excitedly.

“Ill eat a loth cat before I sleep in GAR issued blankets.” He laughed heartily at your response and left you to continue. You didn’t have any photos to hang or many personal items at all for that matter but that’s how you’ve lived for the last few years anyway.

            Once you were finished you made your way to the common area where the clones were discussing strategy. Quietly you took the empty seat between Tech and Crosshair. The outpost was situated in the middle of the jungle. Intel reported minimal guards as it wasn’t a main base but still enough that you all decided stealth was your best option.

            Once the plan had been formulated they all looked at you expectedly.

“What is it?” you asked.

“So why didn’t you become a Jedi?” Tech asked outright, Hunter elbowed him but didn’t faze the goggled soldier.

“I tried but, well they decided I wasn’t strong enough. I’m closer to the force than most people but not close enough to be a Jedi.”

“You’re defective like us!” Wrecker shouted with glee, earning an elbow from Hunter as well. You actually laughed a bit.

“Yeah, you could say that. I’ve used my abilities as a bounty hunter since I left Lothal until I joined the GAR.”

            Crosshair watched you out of the corner of his eye. You really weren’t what they thought you would be at all. You weren’t a religious zealot you were just someone trying to find their way in the galaxy like the rest of them. He admired that, the honesty too. You weren’t trying to be something you’re not.

            That night in hyperspace you tossed and turned in your new bunk. Nightmares from close calls on a hunt filled your mind. You were often reminded of the times you came close to getting killed before a mission. Eventually you gave up and made your way toward the cockpit. You enjoyed meditating under the blue streaking lights. You were surprised to see that someone had beat you to it. The lithe handsome sniper sat in the pilot’s chair cleaning his fire puncher and mouthing a tooth pick.

            He looked up at you slightly taken aback by your appearance. Quickly he composed himself and half waved his arm at the other seat as a silent invitation.

“Sorry for intruding, I just couldn’t sleep.”

“You’re not.”

You were starting to like the way words seemed to slither off his tongue. You nodded a thanks to him and turned to watch the stars soaring by at light speed. Both you sat in silence for a few minutes before he opened and shut his mouth, wanting to ask you something but Cross wasn’t sure if it was out of turn.

He mentally shrugged and asked, “So why did you join the GAR?”

“Is one part brave three parts fool a believable answer?”

“I doubt you’re a fool.”

“Well, we’ll see if you keep that opinion,” you chuckled and earned an upturn of the corner of his mouth.

“Honestly? I found it ironic that the Jedi needed our help now. I don’t hold too much resentment agianst them but I do want to prove myself as valuable. Besides, things make sense out here.”

“How so?” He turned in his chair to face you and put his rifle down for a moment. You glanced at him and shrugged your shoulders.

“There’s no confusion right now. We fight agianst Separatists and clankers. I’m sure there are good people on those planets but this is the side I chose to fight for so that’s what I’m going to do.”

Crosshair digested your words and offered “We didn’t get a choice.”

“If you did, what would you be doing?”

“That’s a difficult question to answer, I’ve never let myself be hypothetical like that before because there isn’t a choice. I.. We’re property of the GAR just like my rifle and this ship. Don’t tell Tech that though, it’s his ship in his mind.”

You giggled a bit at that and nodded your head in understanding.

“I spent so much time hunting and fighting bounties that this just seemed like a natural course of action. I can’t see myself doing anything else instead now.”

Crosshair picked up his fire puncher again and resumed cleaning it. You watched him for a while before turning back to the lights and closing your eyes. You reached out through the force trying to feel the Purgill you swore you heard. What you didn’t sense was Crosshair watching you intently.

            You were going over the mission plan one last time while Tech was putting down the ship a few clicks away from the objective point. The jungle terrain was difficult to get through but not too much of a problem. The closer you got the more the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Cross left your group close to the outpost to climb one of the giant trees for a better vantage point.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” you whispered to the Sergent.

He nodded in response, seemingly sensing something as well. The post was supposed to be guarded by droids with a few officers scattered throughout but something was off. No perimeter defense and no guards posted outside. Your group made their way around to a side door shown on the schematics and while Tech was overriding security, you Hunter and Wrecker kept watch. You could Feel Crosshair’s eyes on you and it gave you an overwhelming sense of security knowing he was watching over you.

            Three droids were posted on the inside of the door and as soon as you were in Wrecker crushed one agianst the wall, Hunter stabbed one in the chest and you took the last one’s head off with your long viroblade. Quickly you dashed in and made your way through the base looking for a data port. Tech found one on a lower level and plugged in, searching the database until he found what he needed.  

“It seems there are around fifty clones being held captive for questioning on a moon in the outer rim. There are also schematics for the spider droids here…” Tech prattled on interesting things he was downloading until Hunter shushed him and signaled for him to hurry up. That’s when the alarm sounded.

“We gotta go, now.” You stated with certainty. Trusting your instinct the boys packed up and started running back up to the way out. Once the door was insight, a wall of droids emerged and started firing at you. You fell back around a corner and started shooting them with your blaster looking for a weak point in the wall.

“Wrecker throw a smoke grenade,” Hunter barked.

“On it!” Wrecker tossed two creating a large fog that allowed you to step out, you reached out your hand and with a little struggle, used the force to loosen a wall panel until it flew into the side of the droid squad, pinning them to the opposite wall.

“HA HA NICE!” Wrecker shouted.

The four of you ran like hell out of the outpost to find several fallen droids, courtesy of the reliable sniper.

Once the five of you were back on the ship and Tech was taking off Wrecker was excitedly telling Crosshair how you threw a wall at a bunch of droids, taking out ten in one go. There seemed to be an impressed glint in his eye.

“That was good work back there,” Hunter told you sincerely. You smiled and thanked him, watching as the data was sent through encryption straight to Cody to do with as he saw fit.

Your first mission with the squad, a success you exchanged a smile with the sniper and sat in your victory.

#crosshair x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch #crosshair #no y/n

[jasontoddiefor]

If you're still writing from the list, how about 45 (pretending to hate each other au) with obikin?

Sent me a ship and a number!

45. pretending to hate each other au + obikin

Set in a rather flexible AU @shatouto and I have been brainstorming!!! I’ve been calling it Sith’ari / Daisha AU.

The armies were already retreating, picking up their dead for ritual or burial. The battle had been as pointless as it could be with no strategic advancement for either army.

Well, except for one.

“Can you move?”

Anakin looked back up at him, his leg still pinned under the debris and blood running down his temple, blue eyes burning like the flames around him. “Do I look like I can move? Help me up.”

Exhausted and drained as Anakin was, it would be easy to put him under a sleep suggestion, break through his walls and mindtrick him into becoming a hollow puppet at the feet of his throne. It would certainly break the spirit of the Jedi easier than ripping one planet after another from their grasp, more satisfying too. Anakin was meant to be at Obi-Wan’s side, the Force had tied them together for a reason.

But that hollow shell wouldn’t be Anakin at all and Obi-Wan had long since stopped aiming for Anakin’s head when they met on the battlefield. They never truly sought the other out when all around them people screamed, bleed, and died, but they were still inexplicitly drawn to each other, found themselves stumbling somewhere they couldn’t be seen or caught.

“Wonoksh su nun, nuya Sith’ari,” Anakin said, his pronunciation too kind on the harsh words. Sith wasn’t meant to be spoken with gentleness, with hope and warmth in your eyes.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. He was fairly sure the Jedi didn’t have a single word in their vocabulary that came even close to won, the act of breaking chains through the hollow hunger at the bottom of your stomach, urging you to conquer.

Maybe it was simply that the Jedi never felt such compulsions.

Then again, Obi-Wan had been taught to read the Jedi’s careful script by Darth Tyrannus’s hands.

“Haj Dai, Daisha kat fehl,” Obi-Wan replied with the mockery of the Jedi’s formal bows and lifted the stone from Anakin’s legs. It was strange that Anakin wasn’t able to do so on his own, he was stronger than that.

“Great, thank you,” Anakin wheezed. “Now, there’s also, ah, this metal rod piercing my back—”

“My Lord!”

Obi-Wan and Anakin both quickly turned their heads in the direction of the voices. Seemed like Obi-Wan’s guards had found them quicker than anticipated. If they saw him just standing here, with Anakin incapacitated but not yet begging for his life, then the game would be over. Their song would cut off right in the middle, their dance simply end.

No.

“My Lord, I— Skywalker! You caught—”

Obi-Wan didn’t let the guard finish. He was just a little glad that it hadn’t been Ventress. She was the most useful of his guards, even if she worked as a spy for Tyrannus, and Obi-Wan would have missed her presence at his Council. She was one of the few who dared to speak up against the Generals that Sidious had settled him with.

Impassively, Obi-Wan stared at the corpse to his feet, then, sighing, he returned to look at Anakin whose previously so open expression had closed off again. Nothing like a dead body to remind you of what really stood between your dyad.

“Don’t stay here for too long, Anakin. Time is running out.”

For you, me, us, this impossible bond that never should have been woven.

Not waiting for a reply, Obi-Wan turned around and walked towards his retreating army, leaving Anakin behind to meet in a new tomorrow, another unnecessary battle for an Empire Obi-Wan had never seen the purpose of and a Republic that had done nothing for a little slave boy from Tatooine.

Translations:

Sith: You will free me, my Sith'Ari [= Prophecized Sith Overlord] Dai Bendu: As the Force Wills, my Daisha [= Chosen One]

#obikin #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #sith obi wan kenobi #jedi anakin skywalker #sithari and daisha au #fanfic #ask #rynae reblogs

[snarky-badger]

‘Snapshots’ part 2

Grievous uh.. stuff. Part 2

This takes place immediately after Part 1. No smut in this chapter. Sorry. Next part. Promise.

.

.

Gasping for breath, his heart hammering in it's protected gutsack, Grievous barely managed to twist to the side as his climax wiped out every ounce of strength in him, leaving him to collapse next to Kyra instead of on top of her. Exhausted, but with a giddy little feeling coursing through him, he weakly gathered her into his arms, carefully sliding his fourth hand from between her legs and growling smugly when the movement pulled a soft gasp and a tremble from her.

Her own arms slowly curled around his shoulders, fingertips stroking the base of his skull and sending little aftershocks of dulled pleasure through him. He returned the caresses by stroking his lower hands up and down her back, his upper right hand rising to cup the back of her head and tuck her closer to him, murmuring appreciatively when she placed a kiss to his chest.

It was only when she shivered a few minutes later that he moved, shifting to stretch one long leg out and curling toe talons around the edge of his discarded cloak, pulling the heavy material into his reach. His lower arms left the soft haven of her skin, reaching around her to grasp his cloak and quickly remove the lightsabers from their hidden pouches before wrapping her up in it, part of him entirely too pleased to have her curled up in his cloak.

Slowly, and with great care, Grievous settled his lower arms around her waist, hands splayed across her covered back. His upper arms were still around her shoulders, flush with her warming skin. "Kyra?"

"Mm?"

He leaned back a little at the contended murmur, chuckling when he saw her blink up at him sleepily, a tired, yet warm, smile tugging at her lips. "Nothing. It can wait. Sleep, now. I'll watch over you."

"....promise?"

He hesitated a brief moment, then lightly touched his forehead to hers, his left lower arm rising until he could press his hand over her heart, feeling the strong pulse against his palm and taking comfort in it. "I promise," he whispered, an odd warmth encompassing him when she smiled and snuggled up against him, her body molding to his odd frame.

It wasn't until her breathing had slowed, her form relaxing as sleep took her, that Grievous dared to move and regard her.

He had once thought that he had resigned himself to never feeling real pleasure again. That his upgrades into a cybernetic body meant that he'd have to give up any hope of ever experiencing any sort of physical intimacy. It had been hard, at first. Just because his body was incapable of it didn't mean that his mind and soul didn't crave the caress of a lover, the warmth of sharing a bed with another. Being able to go without sleep had saved him from the rather interesting dreams he had suffered through before the final upgrade. Dreams that had previously left him painfully aroused without any way of release.

And now he found himself struggling with those lusts, craving the touches he'd thought lost to him. Even with his cyborg body, he now found himself lying in a happy post-bliss daze, his limbs giving a little twitch every now and again as aftershocks continued to remind him of his powerful climax. The reason for his current condition lay cuddled in his arms, sleeping peacefully under the warm comfort of his cloak.

He wondered if Kyra realised the gift she had given him. Wondered if she knew that she had inadvertently tied him to her. No other had ever been brave enough to touch him, and certainly not in the way she had. No other had found a way to give him a release to his frustration of having to give up any physical comforts. No other had cared enough to even consider it.

And she had wanted him. That thought alone pulled a rather happy growl from him, the sound causing Kyra to shift a little in his arms, a contented sigh leaving her as she settled once again. The heat from her body warmed his frame, relaxing him further, helping to chase away some of the stress that plagued him. Joints and armor plates that had previously sent aching signals to his brain fell silent, the calm frame of mind he was in echoed by his cybernetic body.

Oh, how he'd missed this. Stretched out on a bed with a partner curled up against him. Feeling boneless and saited after a particularly intense mating. Sleep still eluded him, but he was more than content to merely lie there and hold Kyra as she slept, basking in the warmth of her body, and the reassuring sound of her rhythmic breathing.

Grievous wondered if he'd be able to convince her to relocate into his private quarters. The room she currently had as her own was a quarter of the size of his own, without windows or access to the central computer and security system. Certainly, she'd be safer and more comfortable in his quarters. It was well hidden, protected from any intruder that dared to venture into his Citadel, with an escape tunnel that led to a small shuttle bay in case of emergencies.

Though, he realized that leaving her behind to go on missions for the Separatists would be harder now than it was before. Before, Kyra had just been refreshing company, someone who treated him like a living being other than a droid. She had joked with him, stood up to him where no other had dared to, offered a different view on things when he had been raving about a foiled plan, even helped him one time when he had returned to the citadel damaged.

She was more than just company now. More than the confines of a 'friend'. And oddly enough, he wanted it to be something more.

It still stunned him, that Kyra was able to look beyond his cyborg frame and see the person beneath. For someone who was able to tap into the Force as effortless as she could, she had a surprisingly open mind. Though, she hadn't been taken in by either Jedi or Sith, never had their teachings ingrained into her until all she knew were ancients codes of conduct. Maybe that was the difference. She had grown up in harsh reality, taught to adapt, to rely on her own knowledge and inner strength, to look at both sides of a problem before choosing a course of action. Taught to accept her emotions, be they anger and fear, or compassion and love.

Grievous had always thought the Jedi were a little backwards, and entirely too full of themselves. The preached peace, while teaching their younglings to let go of all emotions, to distance themselves and let go of everything and everyone they held dear. That their way of life was the only right way, forsaking all others. That any who could wield the Force were either with them or against them. So black and white. So rigid. Unable and unwilling to adapt.

Not that the Sith were any better. Power hungry maniacs that they were. Always backstabbing each other. Loyalty meant weakness to them, something to be exploited and used. Using anger in a battle was one thing, but to constantly bathe in rage and hatred turned one into a bloodthirsty maniac, unable to tell friend from foe.

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside. He didn't really care what either side did, so long as they kept their distance from him. He had an army to run, a war to win.... and now, someone to protect.

Kyra would have to remain hidden from both the Sith and the Jedi. The latter would be easiest, considering that he killed any Jedi that he encountered, but the Sith, well, that was a different matter entirely. Especially considering that they ran the Separatist movement. Lord Sidious and Count Dooku wouldn't hesitate to snatch Kyra away from him if they sensed even a minute amount of Force energy in her, or worse, if they learned of her importance to him. The Nemodian, Gunray, would have to be watched as well. The scheming coward was always looking for a way to undermine Grievous' position as Commander of the droid army.

But he couldn't expect Kyra to stay hidden in the depths of his citadel for the rest of her days. Caging her, while ensuring her safety, would undoubtedly kill her spirit and cause her to resent him. Maybe even hate him. No, he'd have to find another way. Assigning two of his personal guards to protect her whenever she ventured outside of the citadel walls would be prudent. Though considering that she always had her vatraal with her when she went to explore the surrounding landscape, one could argue that she was safe enough.

Granted, a dragonmount wasn't a match for blasters. Or lightsabers.

The last thought pulled a shudder from him, and Grievous frowned as he tightened his hold on Kyra possessively, murmuring another guttural Kaleesh endearment when she shifted, curling close to him in response to his movement. He stroked her back soothingly, waiting until she had calmed again before leaning back a little to look at her, his upper right hand rising to brush his fingertips across her cheek, his golden gaze narrowing as a radical thought entered his mind.

He'd teach her how to protect herself. After all, Dooku had taught him how to wield a lightsaber, and Grievous knew that he didn't have the slightest bit of Force-sensitivity. But Kyra, Kyra could could tap into the Force. Some things would come more naturally to her than him. And it wasn't as if procuring a lightsaber for her would be hard; he had over two dozen of the things.

And, his traitorous emotions whispered, what better commitment present than one of his own prized trophies?.

.

.

#grievous fuckery #general grievous #snarky is writing #wtf do i tag this #why did i write this #i don't remember #perhaps i was drunk #or overly medicated #grievous x oc #fanfiction #fanfic

[evabellasworld]

An Unforgettable Honeymoon

For @10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat , this is my gift for you as part of the @starwarsfandomfests event. Thank you to @lilhawkeye3 for organising this event. I really enjoyed it so far.——————————————————————————————

Summary:  Bly and Aayla head to a tropical island planet for their honeymoon, where they create an everlasting memory as a newly-wedded couple

——————————————————————————————

AO3 Link

Arriving at a tropical, humid planet, Bly and Aayla got off from the cargo ship as they had their suitcases in their hands, standing in a station full of tourists and locals from all walks of life. Bly noticed a blue Twi'lek girl, who shared similar resemblances with his wife and was around 4 or 5 years old, held both her parent's hands as they made sure that their daughter was well-protected from danger.

This might be us in the future, Bly let his lips curl upwards as he rested his head on his right palm, and he saw three Rodian boys in their shirts and beach shorts, carrying their own surfboards. They reminded him of his closest siblings, Ares and Ahri, who hung out with him whenever they’re on a break from war. Ahri and Ares would love surfboarding at the beach.

Aayla glanced at her husband's curiosity and placed her hand on his shoulder, prompting him to shift his focus towards her. “You seemed deep in your thoughts, dear,” the blue Twi'lek teased. “First time on a vacation, commander?”

“Yes, general,” he replied, his voice laced with doubts. “This is my first time I’m going on a vacation with you.”

Aayla let out a chuckle, leaving his cheeks turned pink. “Did I do anything wrong, general?”

“Bly, you know the war is over, right?” she grinned. “Besides, we just got married two days ago, so you can just refer to me by my first name.”

Scratching the back of his head, he nodded slowly as he squirmed his lips and released an agitated laugh. “My apologies, general, I mean, Aayla. I'm still getting used to this new life as a clone. Besides, you referred to me as commander, so I thought I was fighting battle droids on the battlefield.”

“Don't worry about it, dear,” his newly wedded wife smiled, caressing his tan, tattooed cheeks. “You'll get through with this. Besides, I'm also getting the hang of this as a Jedi Master. It’s really difficult to adjust myself after three years of chaos. It’s strange that I have to get used to a peaceful life.”

“Yeah, it is strange,” he bobbed his head solemnly as he reached out his arms and took her hands, reminding him just how lucky both of them finally got to spend quality time with each other, without any interruptions from protocols and orders from a higher authority. “Should we head to our hotel now? I can’t wait to have some privacy together,” he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows twice.

“Lead the way, my love.”

Placing their suitcases on the red, carpeted floor, Aayla sighed in relief as the couple were greeted with scarlet rose petals on their bed, making them feel welcomed. Feeling a bit of exhaustion from the journey from Coruscant to Moluqu, she slid open the balcony door and gazed at the picturesque view of the beach from their room.

With the warm breeze blowing from the west and the illuminating pink sunlight, she sat on the rattan chair with a delicate, pearly cushion, her legs crossed.

Listening to the cheerful laughter of children, she was brought back down the memory lanes as a young Padawan, who used to sprint around the garden, which was filled with a cherry blossom tree, honeysuckles that were grown in shrubs, and morning glories that tangled around the black, iron gates. Whenever she tried to pluck a blue daisy from a pot, Master Vos always caught her red-handed and chased after her, but Aayla always outran him in the Temple.

I was such a mischievous child in the past, Aayla snickered to herself, looking at the horizon. But I'm grateful for the lessons he taught me, walked me down the aisle and accepted Bly.

The clone trooper glimpsed his wife, who was relaxing on the balcony. Changing into his beach attire, he put on his shades and leaned behind the sliding door, clearing his throat. “Hey, Aayla. We're heading to the beach right now. Are you coming? We haven’t got all day.”

“Of course, dear,” she answered him and got up from her seat. "I'll be right there in a minute.”

As she headed inside, she drew the curtains and changed into an ultramarine strapless bikini top with a high-waisted bikini bottom, carrying her towel by her forearm. Putting on her blueberry flip flops which she bought yesterday at a Coruscant night market, the couple linked arms with each other as they left their hotel room and strolled leisurely towards the beach, feeling the fine, warm sand underneath their bare feet as they took off their shoes.

Despite memorising the colours of the ocean, Bly felt like it was the first time he had experienced the shimmering sea in front of his eyes. He fought at a beach during the second year of the Clone Wars, but his eyes glimmered at the turquoise and deep blue palette of the ocean, where children and adults alike of all species gathered and swam. Rows of coconut trees were swaying with the balmy wind as tourists lay underneath the cooling shade, forgetting all their troubles at the present moment.

Aayla spread out their lemon-patterned beach mat underneath the palm tree, which was stubbier than the coconut trees. The only worst thing that could happen to the couple was a bunch of squirrels invading their peace, which occurred once during a scouting mission. “Well, we found a perfect spot to rest,” he jestered, squeezing her thighs. “Don't you agree, general?”

“Yes, commander,” bemused the Jedi Master, finding his touch rather ticklish. “We managed to find a good spot for us to rest and have a little privacy from the rest.”

He raised one eyebrow at her reply, before realising that he addressed her in a formal tone, just like how it was during the war. “My apologies, Aayla. I swear to the Maker that it was a slip of my tongue.”

“To be honest with you, I still don't mind you calling me general,” she quipped, leaning against the bark of the tree. “After all, I was the one who proposed to you in the first place.”

His smile grew wider as Aayla brought him back to that particular day, one he would never forget. “I still remember that day,” Bly reminisced as he moved his eyes upwards, before gazing at her hazel eyes. “It's as if you got down on your knees yesterday and asked me to be your husband.”

“And you were hesitating to say yes,” she recalled. “It's like you weren't expecting that day to actually come to you.”

“I was overjoyed, but I didn't really know what to say. It's funny that I dreamed of settling down with you when we were secretly together, but yet, my mind went blank when it actually came true.”

Chortling, Aayla slapped her knees and covered her mouth, leaving his cheeks turned red as a beet. “That is completely valid,” she assured him. “Honestly, your feelings that day were valid. It is normal to be nervous about moving on to the next step in life. Believe me, I've been there before and it wasn't easy for me to adapt.”

His eyes widened. “You were jittery before? But you seem so confident and calm all the time.”

“Yeah, it's surprising to see me anxious, but it's normal, you know. Everyone goes through that when they have to step out of their comfort zone. I felt the same way as you did when I decided to marry you.”

“So, how did you cope with your overwhelming doubts?” he asked, leaning closer to her. “Like, what is your secret?”

Aayla took a deep breath as she felt his warmth and gazed at his burnt cocoa eyes, ready to pull him into the other side of her mind. “When I'm in doubt, when my inner voice tells me that it is impossible to do something, when I feel like I'm never going to make it through my obstacles in front of me, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I clear my mind, I remind myself of all the blessings that I have with me and my own strength. That's how I cope with my doubts.”

What an amazing woman, Bly praised, when he heard her smooth voice in his ears. I envy her for sharing her vulnerable side with me. She is as courageous as a lioness on a golden throne. “So what are your blessings in life so far?” he wondered, gazing at the cloudless, azure sky.

Aayla tilted her head upwards as she hummed softly, before shifting her eyes towards him. “Besides surviving the war and getting a chance to see the beauty of life, I am blessed that you have become part of my life. I will never regret meeting you on Kamino, I am glad to see you develop into a better version of yourself, and I am proud to call you my loving, sweet, husband. So thank you, Bly, for choosing to stay with me.”

For a moment, he was speechless. In his mind, he desperately searched for a word that would go well with hers, but for some reason, it was empty. He felt frantic and blamed himself for always keeping quiet in the tender moments with his wife, but then, he remembered every single word she told her, about how she overcame her doubts. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I clear my mind, I remind myself of all the blessings that I have with me and my own strength.

And when he did so, the words that he wanted to spill to her finally popped up in his mind. “Aayla,” he finally spoke, after a few minutes of silence between them. “When I first met you, I only saw you as my superior. Nothing more, nothing less. But then, you sparked a couple of conversations between us, and wow, I actually felt something for you. I mean, I didn't think much about it, though, but as time went by, as battles got brutal and as we spent more time hopping from one planet to another, I realized that I loved you so much. I accepted your flaws, I commend your strength, I acknowledged your quirks, and yeah, I adored your beauty but you know what I loved most about you?”

“What is it, Bly?”

“I cherished your heart. Your valiant, compassionate, heart. That's what attracted me to you in the first place. And you know what? I never regret choosing to love you as my partner, as my confidant, and as my plucky, unfaltering wife.”

As they let their lips brush together, Aayla stood up and dragged Bly for a swim in the shallow part of the ocean, underneath the rosy sunlight. Like their love, the waves flowed with the rhythm as they lived and laughed together, creating everlasting memories on their first day of their honeymoon.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfics #star wars fics #star wars au #blyla #commander bly #aayla secura #bly x aayla #jedi knight #jedi master #star wars ocs #clone ocs #intimacy #emotional intimacy #happy au #order 66 didn't happen #fluff #romanctic fluff #tooth rotting fluff #canon divergence #clone trooper ocs #married life #honeymoon

[chaoticevilbean]

What if....

Ahsoka decided to stay with the Order?

What if she looked at Anakin? Looked at her Master, the one who raised her and taught her, the one who told her what she needed to know and prepared her how he could. Looked at the one who she would die for in an instant, who she never wanted to leave. The one who battled tirelessly to save her, who she knew, despite the Jedi way, despite all the time he’d spent as a Knight, was attached to her.

What if she looked at him, as he held out his hand, hopeful, and decided she would do as he had done for her? She would be attached, but learn to be powerful enough to not fail. What if she took his hand, and stayed, not with the Order, but with Anakin?

Anakin is overjoyed, but also worried. He doesn’t know how being betrayed will affect her, how being hunted by clones will change her dynamic while fighting. So he decides to leave immediately to ‘scout’. A different yet familiar setting should help, and they’ll avoid actually battling for at least a little while.

They get on the ship, and Ahsoka sticks close to her Master. The clones are cautious. They all heard the stories and rumors, and also heard the accomplishments of the Commander. Wrongfully accused, wrongfully convicted, and still loyal, still strong. Her life, dedicated to helping others.

Ahsoka is fine, if a little quiet. She participates sparingly in the take-off briefings, and she’s absolutely silent when Anakin informs the Council of his entire plan.

Then Anakin sends her off to rest, so she can fully recover. He drops her off at her quarters, gives her the next day off. The night passes as it used to.

Then the clones comm Anakin in a panic. They say there’s something wrong with Ahsoka. “Come to the cafeteria! Quickly, general!” Rex’s voice is barely audible over the distressed shouts of his fellow soldiers. Anakin rushes over. He’s scared, scared that something has happened to the Padawan he only just got back.

He gets to the cafeteria to find all the clones outside a locked door. The key pad has lightsaber cuts on it, slashed the exact way he taught Ahsoka to do when she didn’t want anyone inside. Rex says that they were all heading to breakfast as scheduled, and Ahsoka was already inside. She seemed fine, but when she saw the clones, she freaked out. She started pushing the tables at them, blocking their way inside and forcing them out. She came closer only to slash the doors before jumping back.

Anakin tells them to go about their days as usual. They’ll have to skip breakfast for now, until Ahsoka is okay. All but Rex leave. Anakin accepts that. It takes a half hour to get inside, opening the door without the keypad and deciding against just cutting a hole through. Every table is piled haphazardly in the way, nearly falling on the duo.

Anakin moves them with the Force. Carefully but not gently. At this point, he can hear crying. He becomes less careful. It takes an extra ten minutes.

The moment he can, Anakin sprints into the cafeteria. It takes him two seconds to spot his Padawan.

She’s in the corner, curled as tight as can be, sobbing. She doesn’t react to the presence of her Master, but the moment she sees Rex, she wails, pressing further and further into the walls. Anakin motions for Rex to stand down, and the clone moves as far back as he can without losing sight of his friend.

Ahsoka lets Anakin walk over, eyes trained on the white behind him. She only looks away when hands start to gently pull her up, pull her in. She doesn’t fight, hiding in the safety of her Master.

“What’s wrong, Snips? What happened?’ She doesn’t respond right away, but there’s no rush here. When she answers, her words are broken, strained.

“I- I was- was back there, and I cou- couldn’t let them get me, but there were so- so many.” Anakin tugs her closer. His heart that had only begun healing from the recent events was breaking all over again.

“You aren’t, Snips, okay? I won’t let that happen again. As long as I’m around, you’ll be okay.”

Ahsoka takes a long time to calm down. It’s a good thing nothing was planned for this day. Rex stays back the entire time, thinking about the pain his sister-in-arms had been brought because he and his brothers refused to disobey orders. He wouldn’t do it again, he promised himself. He wouldn’t let anything like it happen again.

Anakin spends the day comforting Ahsoka. He asks her if she can stay in her quarters that night. She says she’ll be fine, but that’s their personal code for “I’ll push through it.” He lets her stay with him that night, taking the mattress from her room so she can have a bed.

Midnight comes, and Anakin wakes up suddenly. It isn’t a threat, so he stays still.

A smaller hand reaches up to grab his. It squeezes. He squeezes back.

The next day, Anakin never leaves Ahsoka’s side. Even when they have to, he waits for her, never letting her remain alone. The clones keep a bit back, the word having been spread about the Togruta’s fear. They don’t want her to be scared, not when she asks them for honest opinions, speaks to them like she does anyone else, knows each one of them by name and can tell them apart even when they’re wearing the same armor with no characterization.

The next night, Anakin learns about Ahsoka’s nightmares. She sits up, fast, and she’s crying again. He hugs her, whispering that he’s there, that she’s not in danger. They fall asleep like that, the Master and the Padawan, holding onto each other like they’d always done.

A month passes of the same routine. Ahsoka sticks close to her Master, and sleeps on the floor next to him at night. When the darkness gets too much, she grabs his hand, anchors herself with his presence. When the nightmares come, they wake up in the morning as if they hadn’t fallen asleep hugging. The clones gradually get closer, until it’s almost like normal. They’re lucky there haven’t been any battles.

Then the battle does come. They go up against an all-droid ship, and the droids manage to board. Ahsoka gets separated from Anakin, but they’re in the middle of a fight, there’s no time to find him, no time to panic. So Ahsoka goes to the next best comfort: the Force.

It takes all of two minutes to take down the remaining droids in that area. The clones are standing back in shock. In the moment she gave in to the Force’s power, she became a blur. Her mind was no longer filled with the memories of the very men she fought with turning on her. Instead, it was filled with thoughts of how each one had dedicated their lives to the cause, how every last one of the soldiers were literally born and raised for battle. So many had died thinking their sacrifice was worthless, unimportant. So many had died, period. Ahsoka would not let that number grow if she could help it.

With the Force guiding her every move, more powerful now that it was her second companion, she's ten times as strong. Without waiting for the clones to catch up, she rushes through the ship, taking down droids by the dozens.

Every last boarder is destroyed, with minimal casualties. The enemy ship blows up and they make it safely away. Anakin is glad when Ahsoka reaches him, perfectly fine. She’s still wary of the clones, but she can feel their good, their light.

The day after she tries again to let the Force guide her. She’s sitting near Anakin as he fixes a fighter ship. There are clones all around her. She feels the light once again.

Then she feels something else. A little switch in the minds of all the soldiers, one that will change that light to darkness in a heartbeat.

She tells her Master what she felt that night, just before they rest. He says they can tell the Chancellor tomorrow.

The holograph forms of Palpatine. Ahsoka slams her fist down to shut it off.

“What was that‽”

“He isn’t good.”

“What do you mean he isn’t good?”

“I.. don’t know. I saw him, and I just felt so much darkness. He isn’t good, Master.” Anakin accepts the answer for the moment. Then he calls Obi-Wan. The two relay their message about the clones. Obi-Wan promises to look into it. Ahsoka speaks up quickly, much more confidently than before.

“Don’t tell anyone but the Council. Please.”

Obi-Wan agrees.

The days keep passing. The nightmares are more frequent, if less painful. Ahsoka no longer sleeps on the ground. Anakin won’t let his little sister be in so much pain for nothing. The nightmares are better like that.

The clones get closer to their commander. They drop ‘hints’ about how they see her.

“Commander Tano is one of the best people I’ve worked under, hands down.”

“What about the general?”

“Listen, I’d die for either in a heartbeat, but if you forced me to choose, I’d pick Ahsoka every time.”

Ahsoka was sitting a table away in the cafeteria. Anakin smiled at her then, though it was more of a smirk.

“She’s basically one of us at this point.”

“I know. We might as well call her sister.”

Rex was walking into a briefing. Ahsoka hid her face in Anakin’s arm, blushing bright orange at the words.

She lets the Force guide her constantly. Anakin follows her lead, and they both find that their attachment to one another actually helps. They’re bonded through the Force, and they grow stronger as they grow attached to one another. There is no way they’ll separate anytime soon.

Ahsoka can temporarily leave her Master’s side. It takes a lot of courage, and Rex usually has to be nearby, but she pushes away her doubts.

One day, she’s walking with Rex, trying to see how long she can go before her fear grows too large. She still feels that switch, and she hates it. Hates that her friend could become evil in a second and she can’t even tell why. So she reaches towards it. Maybe she can get it stuck on the light side, or something of the sort.

Rex freezes when he feels it. The little voice in his head, the very reason he followed orders he hated, the reason he listened to Krell at all, suddenly disappeared.

Ahsoka didn’t mean to destroy the switch, but she was happy that it happened. The switch was meant for dark, and so the light destroyed it.

Rex looks at Ahsoka, who’s grinning that sharp-toothed grin at him. He’s glad the voice is gone, but he also wants to know what she did. He doesn’t want people messing with his mind unannounced.

“What did you do?”

“I got rid of the switch!” It doesn’t immediately occur to her that Rex doesn’t know about the switch. If every clone has it, then surely they know about it and simply didn’t know the use.

“What switch?”

“The one that was gonna turn you bad. Luckily I felt it after that big battle we had against those droids. Master Obi-Wan’s looking into it, but I wanted to see what I could do myself. I only meant to keep it from working. Apparently, I can get rid of it.”

Rex is still confused, but he’ll ask General Skywalker later. Instead, he grabs a passing soldier’s arm, pulling him into the conversation.

“Does he have one?”

“Yeah! Every clone has one!”

“Can you get rid of it?”

There’s a pause as Ahsoka’s eyes close, then the trooper stiffens. He was highly bemused, even more so now, but he can feel the difference. The constant need to follow orders now seems more like a choice.

Rex and Pint take Ahsoka throughout the entire ship, randomly dragging their brothers towards the Togruta and waiting for her to destroy their switches. Anakin finds them later, having gotten an update from Rex that the Padawan was fine. He’s happy for his men, and for Ahsoka. An hour into their crusade and the clones are coming to the trio, gathering to see what’s going on with only the assurance from their comrades that it’ll be worth it. It is.

Ahsoka doesn’t feel the need to find Anakin that day at any point. She’s ecstatic that she could help the troopers. Rex is glad his family is no longer faced with that voice compelling them. At least not on this ship. Not anymore. He tells her the thought running through each of their heads in replacement of that switch.

“Thank you, sister.”

Anakin almost completely panics on finding a crying Ahsoka, but she says they’re happy tears. Happy tears.

A quick visit from Master Windu is all it takes to undo so much work.

Ahsoka is silent as he visits. Windu asks how she’s recovering. She nods and moves behind Anakin just a little.

The clones notice the change in their sister. She tries to feel their light as she’s been doing for a while now, but the memories of that time, of when she thought no one cared anymore, no one but Anakin, they shove themselves into her heart, undoing the stitches that hold her together.

Windu only came for an update and a small resupply. He leaves within a day. It’s still too late.

Anakin starts thinking it all over that night, while he’s holding Ahsoka close and attempting to ward off her nightmares. Why would his Snips stay if she had so much pain associated with the Order?

He comes to the conclusion just before they have to get up. She stayed for him. If anyone else had asked, she would’ve left. She’d latched onto him for a reason, and they’d both helped each other recover.

If she was willing to stay for him, he’d leave for her.

He forms his plan mentally as he walks with Ahsoka to do their rounds. He’ll prepare a ship, stock it enough they can make it to a more neutral planet. He’ll leave a message for Rex to let him know what had happened. Then Anakin would breach the topic with Ahsoka and convince her that he was okay leaving. She probably wouldn’t mind never having to see the Council again.

It takes a week before Ahsoka can leave her Master’s side again. Rex is by her side as she leaves, but he glances back at his general in suspicion. The man had been acting weird.

Anakin records his message and leaves it on his desk. He goes to the hangar and starts prepping a ship. The clones ask what he’s doing and he brushes them off with a vague excuse. After all, he has a lot of work to do.

He goes to sleep knowing there’s very little work left to be done. Soon, he can help Ahsoka leave behind what has hurt her so much.

He doesn’t notice his message to Rex is gone.

Anakin sends his Padawan off with Pint and Fives before he goes to finish his preparations. None of the clones question him this time, but they seem to look at him in mild amusement. He wonders why...

... until he enters the ship to find it completely empty of the supplies he’d stocked.

He’s confused. It’s not like the clones to play a prank, at least not one like this. A throat is cleared behind him. He turns sharply to find Rex standing in the entrance.

“Uh, Rex. I thought you’d be on the bridge.” Rex doesn’t speak. He instead opens his palm to reveal a holodisk. Anakin’s message plays before their eyes. The Jedi says nothing, shocked that he hadn’t noticed the missing disk and nervous about his commander’s reaction. They both stand in silence for some time, until Rex finally breaks it.

“She’s our sister, and you’re our brother. She gave us freedom. We’ll use it to help you get yours.”

When the general and the commander walk off with smiles on their faces, the surrounding clones cheer. They’d all had to talk it over, and the agreement had been unanimous.

Ahsoka is briefed on what’s happening. She’s concerned, uncertain, and takes her time to think. She eventually agrees. With everything considered, it will be better.

They reprogram the ship, No one will be able to track them easily. Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex plan. They’ll go to an uninhabited planet. They’ll land the ship and start building. If they can grow or craft things to sell, money won’t be a problem.

Ahsoka reminds them that the loss of the ship and its entire crew will lead to the Republic suffering in the war. Rex suggests helping discreetly. Anakin suggests something a bit more... radical.

They have skill on their side. If Ahsoka and Anakin can make their way to different Separatist planets, then maybe the duo can find evidence of the Separatists’ more nefarious deeds that were kept hidden. Seeing that they were lied to could cause some of the planets to turn to the Republic or neutrality, thus aiding in the war.

They begin their journey, taking the more obscure and isolated routes. All calls to the ship were blocked, and there was a team of clones assigned to making sure they weren’t tracked. Ahsoka declared she would teach some of her brothers the finer points of engineering and tech. Anakin declared that she would not, but he would. Instead, she could help them learn to craft some things, or study subjects outside of their war training.

They soon find that some clones are incredibly talented at art, and others at engineering. Rex understands physics better than any of his brothers, and Six-Piece ends up having to be dragged away from his agriculture books just to eat. The clones better at building make a forge out of the incinerator, and some of the others practice smithing. And when that goes wrong, a medical droid starts teaching a small group how to heal small wounds (and not-so-small wounds).

Some clones find that they really are made for fighting. So Ahsoka helps teach them to fight with swords and staffs and knives and every weapon they have onboard.

It takes two months to get to their final destination. A planet void of any sentient species, but with plenty of edible flora and fauna. They land the ship in a wide open space, and the real work begins.

They spend the first few days drawing up plans and unloading what they can. A few dozen clones begin to gather lumber and clear land for buildings. The next few days, those dozen are joined by more, and supplies are organized. They build a storehouse first, basically just a huge room. It will hold whatever they collect for now.

Six-Piece leads some of his brothers in clearing more land for farming. Pint starts collecting seeds. Fives draws blueprints for different tools and crafts. Ahsoka and Echo disappear for several hours one day and return with canine creatures of a scaly nature. Anakin nearly has a heart attack at the sight of the green and purple scaled animals following his Padawan. Rex almost entered a similar state, but managed to avoid it by scolding the two.

The canines were kept, and Echo and Ahsoka started training them to guard against threats and help out on the construction sites.

Within the first month, they have several rows of edible flora sown. The storehouse is built and filled with lumber. They begin reinforcing it. The ship is restructured and reorganized. The forge is upgraded the best they can, and the hangar is converted into an enormous workshop. Fighters are moved around to accommodate the new order, and several clones begin setting up work areas and tables.

They begin separating. Anakin realizes that they’ll need more rations if they want to last long on the planet. He sends some of the men to gather food and some to cultivate the land further. Then he finds the clones that seemed only meant for battle. He tells them to hunt.

They take the canines, begin training them for the trips. There’s plenty of animals to track, and plenty more that seem trainable, if only in the future. They report back with plenty of meat and a list of the more docile creatures. Who knows, maybe they can domesticate them like the canines.

The men start building more rooms to the storehouse, so that they can put the supplies in separate areas. Tools begin to be stored, the food as well. Fuel goes next, and Rex starts making cranes with his new knowledge of physics and Pint’s knowledge of engineering.

Ahsoka helps make the workshop, using the Force to lift the heavier items. Her and Anakin compile everything that isn’t necessary and doesn’t have much value to the group. They load what they can onto a transport and head for the nearest outpost. Out where they are, there are four near enough, and each is neutral.

They sell their wares. It seems what isn’t valuable to them fetches high prices at the market. They use the money to buy tools and rations, along with several books for the clones to read and some textiles. They leave quickly, not wanting to be noticed.

Clothes are made with the textiles, mostly for Ahsoka and Anakin since they’ll be going off-world the most. But some of the clones discard their armor for cloth, and some repurpose the armor for the canines.

Ahsoka names the canines Flurrians. She thinks it sounds cool. Anakin doesn’t bother arguing.

The crops grow faster than expected. The clones are ecstatic to have so much to do and it isn’t fighting.

A few find strange rocks. They crack easily with the new pickaxes their brothers fashioned from spare parts. The smiths melt them to make nuts and bolts and screws and tools and buttons and all sorts of small and large things to help. The builders finish making the storehouse, only to have to build more with all the new supplies coming in.

With the hunters bringing back animals (some simply captured so they can be domesticated), a few clones learn to clean and tan the hides. Some learn to cure the meat. Some begin teaching themselves to cook, and some to sew.

The smiths work together with their new metals to forge Anakin a mask. It looks like that of the notorious Boba Fett, but simpler and softer in the features, painted blue and grey and white. They make a little headpiece for Ahsoka, to wrap around her montrals.

Ahsoka discovers she can see around her with the Force. Anakin can as well, but he doesn’t find the need to use it often. His Padawan trains herself to connect with that sight constantly. She finds her montrals capture more sound, more waves that give her a clearer view of things nearby. Both the Force and her natural ability give her a boost.

A boost that leads to several complaints and near heart failures.

Apparently, being able to ‘see’ so well makes her entirely silent while moving around, unless she’s purposefully making noise. More than a dozen times, Rex screamed at the sudden ‘appearance’ of his sister. Anakin didn’t think much of it until he had his own minor heart attack one day. He tells her to find a way to announce her presence before she gets too close. She does.

It starts with Leo giving her a small stone he found on the ground.

“It’s pretty,” he justified. “I thought of you.” She attached it to the headpiece with help from Pip.

Then Pint handed her a shell, and Echo a feather. Beads and pebbles and scraps of metal, all handed to her because they were shiny or colorful. She slowly began to accumulate long chains of the items. The weight didn’t bother her as she gradually gained more and more prizes. Then one day, Ahsoka looked in the mirror and saw a young Togruta with a beautiful headpiece and montrals and head-tails covered in strings of trinkets. She looked eccentric, but also free.

She finds Six-Piece and he helps her make paint. She uses blue to highlight her face markings, brightening her appearance further. She’s happy.

Rex and some of the others make more paint. They decorate their buildings in colorful pictures and draw on each other’s faces. Ahsoka nearly cried when she saw Rex with paint matching her markings.

Anakin wears his helmet on trips or at night. He puts it on his belt otherwise. He makes retractable staffs that include his and Ahsoka’s lightsabers in the handles. Ahsoka’s can be separated, but is better as a staff when used as one. They would allow the blades to be carried with them, but not noticed.

As they expanded and learned how best to utilize the land, the large group gained a surplus.

“We’re going to have to sell these,” Anakin announced one day, standing in the storehouse that was packed.

“And we still have to go after some of the Separatists,” his little sister reminded.

“You’ll need new names, otherwise there’ll be bounty hunters and troops crawling everywhere,” Echo added, petting his favorite Flurrian, Sil.

“How about Socks?” Anakin smirked at the glare sent his way, but felt pure dread when the look mimicked his own.

“How about Sky?”

“Sky and Socks, sounds good to me,” Rex commented as he walked by.

The two former Jedi attempted to protest.

Sky and Socks begin a routine that becomes well-known to those who meet them. Each of the four outposts are visited at different times. The duo sells their crafts and supplies each time, and always use their money to buy more tools and more materials and more books.

And their wares are always incredibly valuable. Plants that can be used to make fuel, food that can’t be found anywhere else, metals that are so rare some don’t believe in their existence. It seems that the siblings (for that is what they are, as they assured their customers) didn’t know their items were worth so much. They start coming every month to at least one outpost, with the fact that they now know that one of the plants they grow is a highly efficient fuel and they won’t have to buy some for every trip.

Ahsoka often listens to the gossiping beings around her as her brother handles customers. She gains information on nearby planets and the frequent visitors. There are many criminals and bounty hunters around.

The first planet to turn is small. A mysterious pair of beings are said to have broken into the governor’s mansion and found evidence of his misdeeds. They sent it to the entire planet. The Separatists had been separating families and quietly getting rid of the governor’s opponents. The Republic gained a new ally.

Anakin and Ahsoka kept up their work. All planets they could reach quickly, they went and managed to convert to the Republic or to neutrality. Usually, it was to the Republic after the Separatists were proven to be traitorous. Some turned without evidence after hearing tales of what had happened elsewhere.

Sky and Socks always made it back home.

They made their own small civilization, with a farm and stables and workshops and storehouses and barracks.

Sometimes, Sky and Socks came across clones while traveling. The switches were destroyed, and the clones always agreed to go back with the two, even though they never offered, only explained what had happened to Rex Chief and his brothers.

Asajj Ventress came across them at an outpost while they headed back from a newly-aligned Republic planet.

Ahsoka hugs her, much more energetic with all the freedom and light she’s had. She gushes about the many good things that have happened to her since those dreadful days.

Ventress joins them. It takes less than a week before Ahsoka calls her sister. It takes a month before Witch joins Socks and Sky, dressed in a blue and black version of the Nightsisters garb.

Word gets around about the Clone Snatchers and Separatist Traitors.

The Clone Snatchers steal clones from battles, without any signs of struggle. The Separatist Traitors turn Separatist-aligned planets to the Republic.

There are bounties for both in both alliances. Both are wanted alive by the Republic, the Clone Snatchers so they can get their missing soldiers back and the Separatist Traitors so they can meet and possibly join forces. The Separatists want the Traitors dead or alive, preferably dead, and the Snatchers alive so that they can... ally themselves.

After only a month of radio silence from Anakin and his ship, before they established themselves so well, Padme heard the news. All that was known was that the Separatists had nothing to do with the disappearance. The senator was not pleased, and proceeded to call her husband as quickly as possible.

He picked up on the second ring, despite Obi-Wan never managing to get a call through.

“Padme, are you alright?” Anakin is calm, collected. Not at all troubled, it seems.

“Where are you?” the woman demands.

“Um... on our way to an uninhabited planet that we can land on and then live there.”

“Without me?”

“... Do you wanna know the coordinates? I kinda had to deal with changing alignment and reorganizing and reprogramming everything, and I sorta assumed you’d want to remain a senator?”

“Of course I’m going to remain a senator, but I’m still going to visit my husband.”

“HUSBAND‽ Rex, did you hear‽ Anakin and Padme are married! I’ve got a sister! Rex!”

“Is Ahsoka listening?”

“Yeah, she wanted to know why I would answer a call when we’re on radio silence.”

“So, why the change? I thought being a Jedi was everything to you.”

“No. The people I care about are everything to me. Ahsoka wasn’t going to be able to recover while constantly around the Order. Our marriage went against the code. The clones were always dying for what felt like no good reason. It makes sense to get away from what causes so much pain.”

“I understand. I’ll visit as soon as possible.”

“I call you when we land.”

FEEL FREE TO ADD MORE BC I MIGHT NOT (or might, who knows)

#star wars #clone wars #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #rex #mace windu #asajj ventress #republic #separatists #clones #flurrians #may add more later

[limeflavoredlobotomizer]

Soooo... it’s here! Part 2 of the Sith Obi Wan fic, based off of @oifaaa‘s Sith Obi Wan AU. Turned out longer than I expected, and I’m not completely sure about some of the dialogue, but I’ve kept you guys waiting long enough. Hope you like this shit!

Anakin stalked out of the room, furious. How dare those Sith kill those clones? How dare they attack an undefended, middle-of-nowhere Republic base, just to make sure he couldn’t get back to the field. They hadn’t even had the guts to attack him out there, they’d resorted to sabotage and destruction, killing innocents to get at him. Anakin didn’t care if it wasn’t the Jedi way, he was going to murder those Sith. It didn’t matter how or why, but those Sith were going down. He was pretty sure he heard the Admiral call out to him, probably begging him to stop, to consider what he was doing, but Anakin didn’t care. Those clones had died because of him. Because his ship was going to stock up at that base, and those Sith had known it somehow. His fault. His fault. His fault. His masters had always said that Anakin cared too much, felt too deeply, and that one day it would ruin him, but if Anakin didn’t care about these clones, who would? Not the Senate, who sent them to die without a care. Not the Republic, who saw the clones as expendable and worthless. Not even some of the Jedi, who thought they were nothing more than droids, good only for following orders and saving lives. He knew he needed to calm down. Knew he was being irrational and impulsive, two things that Master Windu had always warned him about. He didn’t care. Those clones were dead because of him, and damn him if those Sith weren’t going to pay. 

He heard footsteps behind him and sped up, certain that it was Admiral Yularen about to try to talk him out of this, to claim that he was insane and insist that he came back right this instant to start planning their assault on the mid-rim seperatist strongholds. Anakin glared at the end of the hallway, pointedly not looking back. He would not be talked out of this. The footsteps approached again, and Anakin hurried, near-running now. The footsteps approached again, and he cursed. He couldn’t avoid the Admiral forever, and it was better to make sure the man got it through his thick skull that he was doing this, and that he had no power to stop him. He turned around, and had already opened his mouth when he realized that Admiral Yularen wasn’t there. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Rex, Echo, Hardcase and Fives were there, all standing behind him in full armor. Anakin closed his mouth then opened it again, then closed it, confused. 

“Uh... um... what are you doing here?” 

Hardcase rolled his eyes. “What, did you think that we were gonna let you have all the fun?” Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but Rex stepped forward, eyes flashing. 

“General, we saw that footage too. Those Sith killed our brothers. If you’re gonna be there, so are we.” Anakin blinked and opened his mouth again, not even sure what he was going to say, when Rex glared at him again. “Don’t even think about it, sir.” Anakin rolled his eyes. “You know, that borders on insubordination, soldier. Let’s go.” 

Five minutes later, Anakin stood in the hangar bay of the Resolute, steadfastly ignoring the Admiral pleading for him to just see sense or at least wait till morning. R2 whistled, and Anakin, still ignoring the Admiral’s furious demands, slipped into the cockpit, nodding at Rex and the boys to do the same. Anakin smirked, watching the Admiral from behind the tinted cockpit shield. He was screaming, having lost all sense of composure. “R2, plug in those coordinates.” The droid gave out a series of exasperated whistles that informed him that this was his worst idea yet, though with lots, lots more expletives. Navigation screens popped up on his display, giving him coordinates for the ruined base and a brief view of the terrain around-quite rocky, but with lots of good trees that could be used for cover. Anakin nodded, and grabbed the controls, hurtling towards the planet, executing a series of flips and spins without ever slowing down He loved the force, loved being a Jedi, but this was when he felt most alive, flying through space, hurtling towards that fast-approaching tree line. He waited for the boys to catch up, while R2 hurled some shockingly foul insults, even for him. Once the slowpokes caught up, Anakin headed for the tree line, his descent much more controlled as he located a clearing and made his way towards it, occasionally checking back to see if the boys were still behind him. Once he finally landed, determining that the clearing was a safe quarter mile away from the ruined base, he popped up the cockpit shield. He swung his legs over the side of the ship, and climbed out, leaving his helmet on the seat for his return. 

The instant his legs touched the ground, he gasped, assaulted by the most powerful dark side energy he’d ever felt, waves of hate and anger and pain nearly knocking him to the ground with their sheer force. He’d never felt anything like it, the fury and betrayal crashing into him like a herd of banthas. He heard Rex calling out to him faintly, but it was nearly impossible to move, the dark side radiating from this place in horrible waves. He’d faced Dooku, a former Jedi Master and second in command of the Sith Order, and even he couldn’t compare to this. What could have happened to make someone this furious, this full of hate and rage? He struggled to his feet, remembering one of the first lessons Master Windu had taught him. He’d been nine, just a few days into his training. “Shielding is one of the most important lessons any force-sensitive can learn,” Master Windu had told him. “You must focus. Imagine the strongest wall you can, protecting your mind, keeping anything you don’t want in out, and sealing all your thoughts in where no one can reach them.” Anakin closed his eyes and forced a wall around his mind, imagining his master there with him, lending him strength as he had that day, all those years ago. The dark side gradually retreated until he could see and move again. He sighed, relieved and took a moment to mask his force presence, but he knew there was no point. A force-sensitive strong enough to do… whatever that was would have sensed him the moment he got out of his cockpit, probably before he’d ever touched the ground. 

“Are… are you okay, sir?” Hardcase asked, unusually quiet and concerned-sounding. 

Anakin forced himself to nod. “The dark side is strong in this place. Let’s move out.” The clones nodded reluctantly, and did as he asked, but Anakin could tell they weren’t pleased. They had fought side-by-side for years now, had saved each other's lives countless times, and they knew when he wasn’t telling them everything. They walked forward, squinting through the dark night, a yellowish moon the only true light in the dark sky. Eventually, they came to a break in the trees and Anakin signaled for the clones to stay there as he stepped forward, into the burnt clearing where the base had been. He gasped, shocked. It was.... awful. Anakin had been in plenty of battles over the course of the war, but he had never stayed on the battlefield afterwards like some of the soldiers did. He stared at the place, horrified. The wreckage was somehow worse from the ground, fires still burning, the horrible smell of charred flesh in the air. Death hung in the air, so terrible and close he could almost feel it. He wanted to barf. From the stench, from the sight, from the thought that someone could do this, that someone force-sensitive, someone who could feel the suffering and death and pain could do this and enjoy it. He blinked and nodded to the boys, letting them know that the coast was clear… so far. 

He concentrated, feeling for any other presences, any glimmers of life. He didn’t have to wait at all. Almost the second he did, he felt two horrible, dark presences, not even bothering to try to conceal themselves. Anakin frowned. They were undoubtedly Sith. He could feel the anger and darkness radiating off of them. So why weren’t they trying to hide themselves? There was no way two force-sensitives that powerful wouldn’t have felt him the instant that he had set foot on the planet without his shields up. It almost felt like they wanted him to find them. Like they wanted him to find him. Like they had wanted him here.  His stomach did a backflip and, for the first time, he began to have second thoughts about running off to a random alien planet in the middle of the night after witnessing the most horrific murder he’d ever seen after two years of brutal warfare. He shook that off. There was no time to be nervous now. He looked behind him, and, seeing that the boys had already fanned out and were looking for survivors, nodded at Rex, and walked forward, blade ignited, throwing strange amethyst light around the quiet clearing. He cleared a wall of rubble and frowned, looking around him. He could feel the Sith here, where were they? He heard a noise, like a twig snapping, but that didn’t make any sense, the boys were pretty far behind him now-he turned sharply, barely able to block two brilliant red blades from crashing down on his head. 

It was the younger sith, the one that had carried two sabers in the recording. She smirked at him through the gaps between their sabers, and smirked back. She was a togruta, pretty young by the looks of her, maybe 15 or 16, far too young to be so full of hate. He felt a stab of pity for her and wondered how she’d ended up here on this dark planet, so ready to kill people she’d never met. He blinked and refocused on the battle. No matter what had happened to take her here, right now, she was the enemy. He couldn’t let himself think anything else. She glared at him, her red-ringed yellow eyes furious and hateful, and he couldn’t suppress a slight shudder. She snorted, flashing long, sharp teeth threateningly and rolled her eyes. 

“You know, I didn’t think you would be stupid enough to come down, but Jedi always surprise me.” Anakin glared back at her, annoyed more at himself than anybody that he’d fallen into a trap so obvious.

 “And I thought Sith were smart enough to know when they’re outmatched. Guess we were both wrong.” Anakin forced his saber up, briefly stunning the girl and breaking the bladelock as he flipped over her head, striking and parrying. She returned with her own attack, which was nearly as fast as his own, though not quite as skillful. Her blades danced, deadly and mesmerizing, throwing bloody light and casting strange, angular shadows around the destroyed base. Anakin jumped back, letting her think she had overwhelmed him. She smirked coming forward with increased speed, her technique never slipping. Impressive. He ducked beneath the deadly arcs of red, briefly wondering at her unique Jar’kai style. Where had she learned that? He shook off the questions and refocused on the duel, blocking her spinning blades and coming up with a swift kick to her chest, stunning her and knocking her back. She growled, attempting to raise one of her blades in defense, but now he had the upper hand and easily disarmed her. He force pushed her back into a pile of rubble, pinning her against it. He picked up her fallen saber, a shoto, and held it to her neck, as a warning not to try anything. It was against the code to kill an unarmed opponent, even a Sith, but he doubted she knew that. Plus, if he could hold her here until Rex and the boys found him, she could make a valuable prisoner. 

“Like I said, outmatched.” Anakin said, still smirking. The Togruta glared at him, her golden eyes flashing. “Not yet, Jedi scum.” He turned just in time to raise the girl’s shoto to block a huge piece of debris that was flying straight at him. He turned, gaping at her. She was clearly more powerful than he had thought. How had she done that? 

“Wrong way, Jedi.” A voice said, furious and cold. Anakin spun around to find the taller Sith standing behind him, a red saber ignited.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #Star Wars AU #Sith #Sith AU #@Oifaaa #Anakin #Rex #Hardcase #Echo #Fives #Sith Obi-wan #Sith Ahsoka #Mace Windu #Qui-Gon Jinn #Zio speaks #Zio’s writing

[grumpyhedgehogs]

(you taught me) the courage of stars

Summary: “I know what it is like, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan tells her. “I know what it is to leave the Jedi with nothing more than the clothes on your back and the knowledge that you are doing the right thing.”

Or: Ahsoka Tano flees after a warrant for her arrest is issued, but not before receiving aid from an unexpected ally. (Ahsoka proceeds to go on a road trip filled with a bunch of strangers who all say the same thing: Obi-Wan Kenobi is much more than he has ever appeared to be.)

Warnings: Canon typical violence, abuse (childhood, emotional, physical, mental), mind control.

Pt. 1.

Pt. 2, Pt. 3, AO3 

Notes: 

This idea has been bopping around in my head for a WHILE, y'all. It's basically an amalgamation of my dreadful desire to put Obi-Wan through pain while also giving him some Therapy Because Boy-Howdy Does He Need It and my absolute adoration for Ahsoka Tano. The basic premise of this fic is: What would happen if when Ahsoka left the Order, she went on a road trip through all of the worst hits of Obi-Wan's childhood?

Bonding. Bonding is what would happen.

Title from 'Saturn' by Sleeping At Last.

Nautical Dawn

Ahsoka runs.

Rain sheets down around the togruta, digging into her skin like a million icy knives. Her soaked clothes weigh her down as she sprints blindly, plastered to her, dragging against her limbs. She is chilled to the bone, but not from the storm.

There is no one here to look closely, to separate her tears from the rest of the water obscuring her vision. She takes a turn, breath hitching beneath her ribs as she passes into a tunnel free of rainwater. There is a light at the end, beckoning, promising freedom. She’s almost out. She’s almost free.

She shouldn’t have to worry about being free.

Footsteps sound behind her as she runs, hurrying after her. Panic closes her throat and Ahsoka tilts, stumbling off balance. She throws out a hand, gasping as the Force rises to meet her command, buffeting her back to her feet. If she can just get to the end of the tunnel--

“Ahsoka, wait!”

Ahsoka had been prepared for Skyguy’s voice to ring out behind her. She’d seen the look on his face, knew he’d look for her when she ran. She’d been prepared for law enforcement, or even Master Windu or Koon to come looking for her--someone with experience hunting for Force Signatures on crowded planets. She’d thought she could do this. After all, if she could turn her back on Anakin, what couldn't she do?

Ahsoka hadn’t thought Master Kenobi would come for her.

“Stay back!” The words tear from her throat, scraping it raw. Her lips burn, her eyes burn. She whirls on him, knowing she must look crazed, deranged, animalistic. Good. Let him see what the Order has done to her. “Stay away!”

Further back down the tunnel, Obi-Wan Kenobi raises his hands to shoulder height and plants his feet. His fringe is plastered to his skin too, and his robes and armor drip rainwater steadily to the filthy concrete below, as if he’d simply bolted after her instead of manning a speeder or taking a transport. His chest heaves in time with Ahsoka’s. Her muscles clench and release, her spine a hot iron rod in her back. The Force whispers in her ears, loud, wanting attention. But Ahsoka pushes it away. It’s hard to hear the Force on Coruscant, sometimes almost painful; there are too many Force Signatures here, and too much turmoil clouding her perception. She can’t let it distract her now.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan says. His face twists with the words. Ahsoka wonders if he’s noticed her tears.

“Don’t come near me. I won’t go back to the Temple.” You can’t make me, she almost continues, but the words can’t be forced from her mouth. She bites her tongue instead, shuffling back, and ignores the tang of blood. The whole thing is almost laughable; in any other situation she’d sound like a petulant teenager. Master Kenobi wants her to go to her room. You can’t ground me because I’m not part of this family anymore!  

Ahsoka feels sick. She takes another step back. She sees Obi-Wan’s eyes widen. He does not move.

“I’m not trying to take you back to the Temple.”

The words make no sense; they sound like static in her ears. Nerves make Ahsoka snarl at him. It’s a trick, it has to be; the great Negotiator, giving up his prey without a fight, without argument? The Council no doubt sent him after her, and Ahsoka isn’t going to fall for it just because he has a friendly face. They’d have better luck sending Anakin.

“I’m not going to take the fall for something I didn’t do!”

“I am not asking you to,” Obi-Wan replies, and raises his voice over Ahsoka’s incredulous protests as she opens her mouth again, venom on her tongue. “I am asking you to listen to me now because we don't have much time before law enforcement realizes I’ve slipped them and begins searching for both of us. I think one of them might have put a tracker on me, so you’ll need to get as far away from here as possible after we’re done, am I making myself clear?”

No, Ahsoka thinks, mind swirling with questions and accusations, panicked. You aren’t being clear at all. “Why did you follow me if--if you’re not going to arrest me?”

“I need to give you this.”

Master Kenobi lowers one hand, his movements stiffly telegraphed, and holds out his open palm. From his damp glove float three items, bright enough to catch the low light but too small to make out in the shadows they stand in; Ahsoka catches them with the Force thoughtlessly, the movement second nature. It’s almost like the old games they used to play in the creche, rolling a ball back and forth with only the Force. She does not look down at what he’s given her, only closes her fists around them and stares. The Force pulses around the objects in her hand, curling around Ahsoka as she inspects Master Kenobi, looking for some reaction, anything to analyze how he's feeling or what he's thinking. But Obi-Wan's not moving, not making any motions towards her. His voice is clear and hard and not unkind. He stands as parade rest and makes sure Ahsoka can see his hands.

Ahsoka blinks, startled as she realizes that Obi-Wan does not have his lightsaber on him. Not that he isn’t a threat unarmed, but--has he underestimated her? Perhaps he hoped he could manipulate Ahsoka into coming back with him?

Or does he not intend to do anything of the sort?

“The datachip is encrypted,” Obi-Wan tells her like Ahsoka isn’t reeling. He speaks quickly, businesslike, as if he's about to lead Ahsoka into battle rather than--rather than help her run from the law. “But it’s nothing you won’t be able to slice into. I couldn’t get ahold of your sabers, I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve--but there was no time. Do you have a way off planet yet?”

Numb, Ahsoka shakes her head.

Obi-Wan nods and his hair flops with the movement, flicking water down his nose and cheeks. The urge to laugh hysterically bubbles in Ahsoka's chest, but she swallows it. He points over her shoulder, out of the tunnel. “Head to Dex’s diner, in the lower levels. He’ll be able to get you on a ship wherever you want to go. Check the chip if you can't think of somewhere safe. There will be papers waiting for you.”

“You--you’re letting me go?”

His lips twitch into a simulacra of his usual smile. It looks wooden. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Anakin wouldn’t do this. Anakin would ask her to stay, implore her not to leave. Does Obi-Wan want her to go? Does he think she really did it--that she hurt their family?

He wants nothing more to do with Ahsoka. He’s throwing her away like day old trash, just like the rest of the Jedi.

There’s a soothing wash of calm in the Force; it emanates from her grandmaster, rolling in waves towards her own nexus of grief and pain and fear. For a moment, Ahsoka lets it wrap around her, a comforting blanket against the cold that has enveloped her for days. Then she comes to her senses and, horrified at her own childishness, shakes it off. Obi-Wan is still smiling that awful, empty smile. “I know what it is like, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan tells her. “I know what it is to leave the Jedi with nothing more than the clothes on your back and the knowledge that you are doing the right thing.”

Unable to help herself, Ahsoka lashes out, cruelty squirming sickly in her stomach. She wants--she wants Obi-Wan to stop talking, she wants him to feel her devastation, she wants him to see how she is crumbling beneath the weight of what his Council has done to her. “You don’t know anything about what I feel!”

Obi-Wan loses his smile; his face looks strange; it is as if Ahsoka has never quite seen him before. He is old and worn. There is a deep sorrow carved into his skin. His gaze unfocusses for a split second, eyes far away while he looks at her. She shivers; it isn't Ahsoka Obi-Wan sees standing before him. There’s something else there too, down underneath the rest of it, something that makes the lump in her throat triple in size, something she can’t name. The gifts Obi-Wan gave her bite into the skin of her palms, the datachip and whatever its companions are drawing Ahsoka’s blood in the darkness of this tunnel. Escape looms at her back.

“Yes, Ahsoka. I do. Now you must go--flee!”

Ahsoka runs.

As she does, one question burns into Ashoka's mind: if she asked Master Obi-Wan to come with her, would he?

#sw #star wars #ahsoka tano #obi-wan kenobi #ahsoka #obi-wan #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars fic #tcw #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #tcw fic #obi wan #the prequels #Star Wars movies #obi-wan fic #my writing #legands

[hrtiu]

Do No Harm

Written for the 2020 @starwarssecretsanta, this is for @part-timewizard. Featuring Kix and some good ‘ol Blyla, I hope you like it! I think it might be my favorite thing I’ve ever written, so thank you for the inspiration! It’s also pretty long so you might want to read it on AO3. Happy holidays!!!

TW for some medical gore, non-graphic, star wars-y violence, canonical character death, and a vague mention of suicide

It’s not as sad as it sounds, I promise!

32 Years After the Battle of Yavin

The ordnance was supposed to be deactivated, but they’d all known that equipment this old was bound to be unstable. Salvaging the cargo was a calculated risk, and one that should have been mitigated by Kix’s experience with GAR resources. Unfortunately for the crew of the Meson Martinet, Kix was a medic, not a demolitions expert.

“We’ve got a hull breach in the cargo bay!” Reeg said, his large yellow eyes whipping back and forth as he looked from one monitor to the next.

“Kriff!” Quiggold said. “Well at least the goods can’t blow the rest of the ship up if they’ve been sucked out into space.”

“We should get to the escape pods!” Reeg said.

“No.”

Captain Ithano’s monosyllabic response was enough to completely shut down that line of thinking for the whole crew. Everyone, Kix included, looked to their sanguine leader for a long, silent moment. Then Sidon turned from them and took up his position in the pilot’s seat, his mask betraying no concern for their imminent demise.

“Well, you heard the captain!” Quiggold said. “Batten down the hatches! Lash anything that can move down!”

Kix jumped to attention, his soldiers’ instincts kicking in. He’d only been on the Martinet for six months, but he’d picked up his duties quickly and it didn’t take any additional prompting for him to rush to the engine room to secure maintenance tools and parts.

Kix tried not to think too hard about how impossible a landing Sidon was about to attempt. The Martinet’s captain had a knack for getting out of impossible situations, and as a crew they’d already decided to put their fates in his hands. There was nothing for it now except to prepare and hope.

“Everyone get in your seats!” Quiggold yelled from the cockpit. “Brace for impact!”

Kix sprinted for his seat in the common area, strapping in and holding his harness with two hands. They hadn’t yet entered atmosphere as far as he could tell—now it was just a waiting game.

Reveth clicked in next to him, her eyes wide but her jaw set.

“You ready to die, Kix?” she asked, her words full of bravado but her eyes betraying fear.

Kix gave her a humorless smile. “Already did it once. What’s there to be afraid of?”

The ship jolted as they passed through the upper atmosphere of a nearby planet—Felucia, if he remembered correctly. Their breached hull had compromised the ship’s insulation, leaving them at the mercy of the burning heat of atmospheric entry.

Sweat dripped down Kix’s neck and his grip on his safety harness tightened. A thrill of fear raced down his spine, and a feeling so unfamiliar to Kix that he almost didn’t recognize it accompanied it: he felt alive.

Kix let out a harsh bark of laughter and Reveth shot him a wary look. “You alright there?” she shouted over the roar of their rapid descent.

“Yeah!” he shouted back. And he was. Ironic that now that his life was in real danger of ending, he’d finally started to care if it continued.

The searing heat gradually ebbed and the ship ground with effort as Sidon attempted to wrestle it into a controlled descent. Kix greeted the twins of powerlessness and mortal danger like old friends, his mind calling back to dicey drops and aggressive assaults of decades past. This was something he understood.

“Getting closer!” Quiggold yelled from the cockpit.

Reveth’s breathing grew loud and labored, and Kix looked over at her, his instincts to assist and comfort overriding the sense of emptiness that had accompanied him since his awakening.

“It’ll be alright!” he said, loud enough for her to hear but somehow still imbuing his voice with the practiced compassion of a medic.

Her frightened eyes latched onto his, seeking solace in his peace. This is right, a voice from his past whispered. This is what you were meant to do. The voice was his own, from when he knew who he was and what he stood for.

BOOM!

The Meson Martinet made impact.

---

19 Years Before the Battle of Yavin

Bly dropped his head back behind the seat of the Separatist shuttle, letting it clunk hard against the durasteel wall. The distance between them and Maridun grew in proportion to Bly's sense of security. He closed his eyes, going through the steps General Secura had taught him for cooling down after battle. His breathing slowed, his racing mind calmed, and gradually the adrenaline of fighting for his life left him. His body was utterly spent, and now he could finally afford to let himself feel it. They were safe.

“Are you feeling better now, Master?” Commander Tano asked General Skywalker, the two of them seated next to each other across the shuttle from Bly.

“Yeah, not 100%, but close.” 

Commander Tano let out a sigh of relief. “Don’t scare me like that.”

General Skywalker chuckled. “Whatever you say, Snips.”

The young Padawan’s concern for her Master was palpable, and Bly couldn’t help but remember her and General Secura’s conversation from earlier.

As a Jedi, it is your duty to do what is best for the group.

Bly couldn’t agree with that sentiment more. It was their job as clones, too. It was why he couldn’t afford to stop to memorialize Cameron, Lucky, or Flash. It was why he didn’t have time to mourn the loss of almost the entirety of the 327th. It was why he was prepared to lay down his life anywhere, at any moment, for the cause. General Secura understood that. It was one of the things he respected most about her.

His wandering mind recalled his feet pounding the earth, running away from the Separatist weapon as fast as his body could manage. Then he was flying through the air, a slender, strong arm wrapped around his waist. His heart was in his chest, but he knew he’d make it. He had absolute confidence in his General.

The shuttle docked on General Skywalker’s flagship, jolting Bly from his meditations.

“There’re rooms for you and Commander Bly in the officer’s quarters,” General Skywalker told General Secura, and she nodded her thanks.

They disembarked, and Bly followed General Secura to the rooms Skywalker had indicated.

“Are you alright, General?” he asked. She didn’t look injured, but things had been pretty rough-and-tumble on Meridun. And if she was hurt General Secura was likely to ignore it as long as possible.

“I’m fine,” she said shortly. “Let’s debrief before rest and recuperation.”

“Yes sir.”

He walked behind her through the halls of the Venator, blaster held at ready despite their relative safety and his aching arms. General Secura marched ahead of him and he could sense her mood. He doubted anyone else would be able to tell, but there was a weight to her step and a tension in her shoulders that spoke plainly to her anger and frustration. Bly’s grip on his blaster tightened. It took a lot to shake General Secura.

General Secura reached her room and punched the control panel with more force than necessary to open the door. Bly stepped in after her, wary of what was to come.

“Take a seat,” she said, gesturing across from her as she pulled a chair out from behind a large desk at the back of the room.

Bly obliged, setting his blaster down first and slowly sitting down. He waited for General Secura to start the meeting with her typical no-nonsense efficiency, but instead she set her elbows on the table and rested her forehead in her palms, her eyes closed and her shoulders tense.

Well, he supposed he could get the ball rolling. “Meteor Company is on leave in Coruscant. We can work with them until our fleet is rebuilt.”

“Rebuilt with what?” she said, her voice muffled by her hands.

“Pardon?”

“I said, rebuilt with what?” General Secura said with more force, moving her hands away. Bly nearly flinched when he realized there were tears in her eyes.

“The shipyards are already at work on new Venators, and there are the next generation of trainees from Kamino-”

“Rebuilt with men,” General Secura said forcefully. “Nearly the entire battalion was wiped out. A battalion made up of men. Men who were my responsibility.”

Bly floundered for a moment, unused to seeing his General so conflicted. She was his anchor in the madness of the war. What would he do if she was unmoored?

“They were my brothers, and this loss is… difficult to bear,” Bly said, feeling strangely disjointed. 

He was gutted by the death of the clones in his battalion, but at the same time he felt an odd sense of disconnect. Maybe it was some anti-social characteristic inherited from Jango Fett, maybe it was genetic engineering courtesy of the Kaminoans, but either way he didn’t feel the sorrow residing in his heart in the way he intuitively knew he should.

“My apologies, Commander Bly,” General Secura said. “I’ve been so focused on myself when this must be so much harder for you.”

Bly shook his head. “No, I mean… They were my brothers, so I know they understood their sacrifice. Myself and every other clone in the GAR is prepared to sacrifice ourselves for the Republic. It’s like you said, it’s our duty to do what’s best for the group.” 

“That’s what I told Padawan Tano, and I believe it. But there’s a difference between not allowing personal attachment to cloud your judgment, and just standing back while tens of thousands of men die.”

“We did all we could-”

“But it wasn’t enough!” General Secura said, rising from her seat and slamming her fist on the table.

Bly fell silent, thinking there was no response he could give that would help. General Secura stared at him for a long moment as her frame shook with anger and frustration. Gradually, the rage melted and gave way to a deep, abiding sorrow. She sat back down again, her customary grace and stillness returning to her.

“Bly, I swear to you today that so long as it does not endanger civilian lives, I will do whatever I can to protect you and your men,” General Secura said.

“Ma’am, that’s not neces-”

“Yes it is! Each and every man who died in Quell mattered to me. You matter to me. It’s one thing to stop missing my Master too much. It’s another thing entirely to casually dismiss the deaths of my men. If that’s what it means to be unattached, then it’s not worth it to me.”

Her declaration shocked Bly into silence. Nothing was more important to General Secura than the Order, and he couldn’t imagine her turning her back on one of its precepts.

“General,” he ventured cautiously, “You’re distraught, and that’s understandable. But perhaps that’s not the best frame of mind in which to decide to leave the Order.”

“I’m not leaving the Order,” she said firmly. “I’m only recognizing that, as a Jedi, I have multiple ideals that, should they come into conflict, I need to prioritize. And my promise to you—my promise to myself—is that I will always prioritize compassion over detachment.”

Bly’s throat tightened. It wasn’t often a clone was told that he mattered, and for that sentiment to be coming from someone as beautiful, as kind, as gracious as General Secura? Even Jango Fett’s cold heart couldn’t help but be moved by something like that.

“I’m honored, General,” he choked out.

General Secura’s features softened and she rose from her chair, walking around the table to put a hand on Bly’s shoulder.

“I need someone I can trust, Bly,” she said. “I need someone to guide me and push back if I’m not thinking clearly or if my decisions are rash. I need someone to help ensure that this never happens again.”

“I can be whatever you ask of me, General,” Bly said staunchly.

“Please. Call me Aayla,” she said. “What I need is a friend.”

---

“Execute Order 66.”

General Skywalker and Commander Tano stood in front of Kix, their backs to him. Next to him, Rex, Fives, Jesse, and Tup slowly raised their blasters, expressions grim but determined.

“No! Wait!” Kix called out to them. “It’s a trick! Don’t shoot!”

But it was too late. All four of his brothers opened fire, catching their superiors—their friends—completely off guard. Skywalker and Tano both dropped in an instant.

“No!”

Then, to his horror, Kix’s hands raised his own blaster. As he watched on, eyes wide and mind unwilling, his fingers squeezed the trigger three, four, five times, sending burning blaster bolts into their prone bodies. 

“No!”

Kix thrashed in protest, and pain exploded from his legs and chest. He opened his eyes, frantic, but he didn’t see General Skywalker or Captain Rex or anyone else he’d just imagined. Dreaming, he’d only been dreaming.

Kix’s hazy mind still had no idea what was going on and he knew his body was in bad shape, but so long as the nightmare wasn’t real, that was alright with him.

“He can’t come in here, he’ll endanger my other patients.”

“Lady, he’s easily the most injured person here. Who the kriff is he a danger to?”

Voices sounded above and around Kix, noise buzzing in and out of his fuzzy head. He tried to sit up and a firm hand pushed him down.

“Just relax, friend. Don’t move too much,” came Reveth’s voice.

“That thing was made for violence, and I won’t serve him,” the voice said. It was female, but Kix didn’t recognize it. That wasn’t really unusual. He didn’t recognize most of the world he’d awoken to several months earlier.

“That thing is my crewmember,” came Captain Ithano’s raspy voice in harsh rebuke.

“Are you a doctor or not? I thought you weren’t allowed to refuse to help someone in need,” Quiggold added.

Kix’s blurry vision slowly cleared and the sight of blue skies, thick vines, and glowing fungi greeted him. The ordnance, the explosion, the crash—it all came back to him. They’d made it to Felucia, at least mostly in one piece.

Ugh. Thought I’d never have to see this blasted planet again.

“Fine. Bring him in. But as soon as he’s well enough to stand, he’s out of here,” the unidentified woman said.

Kix craned his head up, catching a clouded glimpse of a middle-aged woman with a stern look and odd, blue-ish hair.

“Suit yourself lady,” Quiggold said, and suddenly Kix was moving again.

---

It was past 0300 and the lights of the Venator had been switched to the flickering dim of the night cycle hours ago, but requisitions flimsiwork didn’t care how little sleep Bly had been getting lately. He signed off on a request for more medical personnel—there never seemed to be enough—and set his datapad down for a good stretch. He was closing in on the end and sleep was in sight, but there were still a few things left to do. There always were.

Bly’s office consisted of a small alcove open to the main hallway just off the bridge, and though he would have appreciated some privacy he understood that space was at a premium on a military vessel. The only person onboard who got a private office (or a private cabin, for that matter) was Aayla, her office connecting to Bly’s through a small door at the back. The layout made Bly feel like a glorified secretary at times, but he accepted it since it made it easier to get ahold of the General.

Bly checked what was next on his to-do list. Oh yes, order more munitions for the AT-TE division. Bly braced himself, then settled in for another round of tedium.

“Ahh!”

A loud gasp sounded from behind Bly, and he whirled around in his chair. It was coming from Aayla’s study. Without a second thought Bly jumped from his seat and sprinted through the door separating him from his General.

“General! What’s wrong!”

Aayla looked up from her desk, a hunk of mysterious food hanging from her mouth and a look of surprise on her face. Whatever was going on, she was definitely not in danger.

“Bly! I’m sorry, I was just reacting to this broadcast.”

“What broadcast? Is someone under attack?”

“No…” Aayla said, her lekku flushing a deep blue.

It was then that Bly decided to pause and actually listen to the broadcast.

“But how could Gorges be the murderer? He wasn’t even at the depot when Mr. Waxillium died!”

“He may not have held the blaster, but he set events in motion to cause the death of his supposed good friend, Mr. Waxillium. Didn’t you, Gorges? You were the one who told Mr. Waxillium to go to the depot that night, weren’t you? You were the one who gave Jasna the blaster, weren’t you?”

“You can’t prove a thing!”

Bly’s brow furrowed, the audio from Aayla’s transceiver only confusing him more. “What… what is this?”

“It’s a transceiver drama,” Aayla said with a sheepish smile. “It’s my guilty pleasure, I’m afraid.”

Bly pursed his lips, unsure how he was supposed to respond. It was difficult to imagine Aayla having any guilty pleasures, and he had no idea what a “transceiver drama” was supposed to be.

Aayla’s smile wilted the longer Bly went without responding. “You… don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

She grimaced. “It’s Aayla, especially when we’re not talking business.”

Bly coughed. “I’m afraid not, Aayla.” 

It was still so hard to call her Aayla. He’d managed to start thinking of her as Aayla in his head, but actually saying the words aloud? As if they were friends? As if they were in any way on equal footing? It was a struggle.

“Transceiver dramas are pieces of fiction that are broadcast over transceiver for entertainment. They’re just… fun stories to listen to,” Aayla said. “I don’t listen to them often, but I’m partial to the mysteries.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You never listened to any dramas? Or watched any holos?”

“Only for educational purposes, si-” Bly cut himself off with a curt shake of the head. “Aayla.”

“Well that just won’t do,” Aayla said, standing and pulling a chair from the corner of her study to rest next to hers. “Come, sit and listen with me.”

“I still have some requisitions-”

“Come on, Bly. Everyone needs to relax sometimes. It will help you work better tomorrow.”

Bly still hesitated for several heartbeats, though he knew he’d always end up doing what she asked. He sat carefully in the chair, as if it might eat him alive for slacking off, and slowly eased into the back cushion. Aayla watched him with an amused expression.

“You won’t know what’s going on in this one, but another starts up right after this. You’ll love it—there’s a detective who’s looking for the man who murdered his wife, and he’ll stop at nothing to find him…”

Aayla excitedly described the plot of the upcoming show, her eyes glowing with pleasure as she delved into the twists and turns of the detective’s search. Bly had never imagined that she had such a carefree side to her, never envisioned her indulging in melodramatic entertainment, but he was thrilled by the discovery. She looked so relaxed and at ease, and there was a simple happiness to her habitually world-weary demeanor that Bly desperately wanted to see more of.

The new show started and, despite the mess of names and plot points swirling around in his head, Bly soon found himself sucked into the story. He gasped when Aayla gasped and added to her theorizing when a new clue was discovered. It was fun, an emotion that Bly barely recognized.

Aayla gave him a piece of whatever she was eating and Bly inspected it carefully, discovering after some study that it was dried meat.

“Try it,” Aayla said.

Bly gave the hunk of meat an experimental chew. His tongue was met with an intensity of savory flavor that he’d never imagined could exist, and his eyes widened. “That’s good!”

Aayla chuckled. “A lot better than what they serve in the mess, I’d wager.”

“Definitely.” Bly paused to chew the meat, not expecting it to be so tough. Then a thought occurred to him. “Wait a second, I thought Jedi were vegetarians.”

Aayla looked at him blankly then burst out laughing. “Certainly not! Take Master Yoda, for example. His species is carnivorous. If he was vegetarian he’d starve.”

“Oh…” Bly said, heat rising to his cheeks. “Well I… how was I supposed to-?”

“Shh! We’re missing the next clue!” Aayla said, still trying to hold back her laughter.

Bly slouched into his seat with an undignified pout, and Aayla leaned over and patted him on the arm. The motion should have felt patronizing, but By couldn’t bring himself to resent anything that resulted in her touch.

The drama continued, ending the episode on a cliffhanger with the detective about to be captured by the Hutt crimelord. Advertising played and Bly sighed, bracing himself to get up and finish the requisitions forms.

“...There’s another episode after this one, if you’re interested,” Aayla said with forced indifference.

He really shouldn’t. He was constantly running short on sleep—he needed to finish his work and hit the bunk as soon as possible. He opened his mouth to say as much, then noticed the hopeful tilt of Aayla’s brow. 

“Sure, I could stay for one more,” he said.

What was a few more hours of lost sleep?

---

Kix came to in an aged hospital bed, both legs in splints and his chest aching from what could only be broken ribs. For half a moment his eyes sought Coric, or Rex, or someone else who could tell him what was going on. Then he remembered.

Kix sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back onto his pillow. Maybe it didn’t really matter that much where he was or how he’d gotten there.

Reveth stirred at Kix’s bedside, her eyes widening as she noticed Kix.

“You’re up!” she said, sounding almost cheery.

“Yeah,” Kix said, struggling to sit up without hurting his ribs. 

Reveth jumped to her feet and lent Kix a hand, stacking a few pillows behind his back so he wasn’t staring at the ceiling. They were at the far end of a long room and he was lying in one of several beds partially cordoned off by screens and curtains. The familiar sight of medical equipment provided Kix with a sense of comfort, though the equipment was old and the furnishings dingy.

“How long have I been out for?” Kix asked.

“Just a day. The doctor says you’ll be all better pretty soon.”

“Any other injuries?”

“Us in the common area got it the worst. I had a concussion and a broken wrist,” she said, raising up the bandaged appendage. “Everyone in the cockpit was fine.”

“And the Martinet?”

Reveth grimaced. “She’ll fly again, eventually. Progress is slow because there aren’t any major starports nearby. Kriff, we’re lucky this clinic is even here. I think the doctor is one of those do-gooders who goes to the ass-end of nowhere to serve the needy.”

“Hmm…” Kix said, recalling the way the doctor had at first refused to treat him. She hadn’t seemed particularly charitable then. “How angry is the captain?”

“Ehhh…” Reveth hedged.

“Am I dead? Or just kicked off the ship?” Kix asked. Sidon Ithano was a fair captain, but even he couldn’t just look the other way when a crewmate led them to treasure that ended up tearing apart their ship.

Reveth waved a hand. “The captain seems tough but he’s softer than you’d think.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d avoid him for a few days if you don’t want another broken limb. But he’ll get over it.”

Kix tried to sit up taller but his ribs protested. He fell back into his pillows with a grunt. “Thanks for the advice.”

“It helps that Reeg thinks he can salvage the explosives from the other cargo bay. Only by the grace of the Force did they not blow up in the crash.”

Kix raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Reveth shrugged. “Probably. He said he can extract the titanoid from the charges without setting them off if he soaks everything in moletan first. Still sounds risky to me, but it’s his leather hide.”

Kix nodded thoughtfully. The deconstructed charges wouldn’t be quite as valuable as they would have been whole, but much safer to transport. And that amount of titanoid should make their excursion profitable enough that Sidon probably wouldn’t decide that Kix had to pay for their losses.

“Oh yeah, and your box of stuff was in cargo bay two as well,” Reveth said, reaching for a crate under her chair and kicking it over to Kix.

Kix leaned over the side of his bed with a wince, confirming for himself that the crate really was the one he’d recovered from the crumbling Republic medical center a few days earlier. It was this modest collection of possessions that had brought Kix to back to the old base; the explosives had just been a monetary justification for the trip. The entire crew of the Marinet had understood that, which was why Kix’s concern for Sidon Ithano’s ire was real. They’d risked carrying dangerous explosives onboard just because Kix had wanted to recover a tiny box of worthless personal effects.

Reveth grabbed the crate and set it on Kix’s lap.

“Thanks.”

“So what’s in there?” Reveth asked, leaning forward to see. “What was worth all the trouble?”

“Not much, really. Just a few odds and ends,” Kix said vaguely.

Reveth looked doubtfully at him but didn’t press. 

Kix opened the box and pulled out the first item, a medal he’d been awarded in medical training on Kamino. Medals didn’t interest him much—he still remembered the swell of pride when it had first been awarded him, but now it seemed more like an empty method of placation. He dug further, rummaging around his Phase I helmet, a field medicine guide for venomous creatures and poisonous plants, a musty pair of gloves. He finally found the old pauldron he was looking for,the faded blue painted over with designs of starfighters and explosions—the result of an energetic, easily-distracted mind.

He held the pauldron up to Reveth. “My friend painted this. He sacrificed himself for our company, crashing an enemy fighter into their ship to break a blockade.”

The gently mocking angle that always seemed to tilt Reveth’s mouth disappeared. “Sounds like he was a great man.”

Kix nodded, putting the pauldron carefully back in the crate. “He was.” 

He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do with all this stuff, but the idea of it left to turn to dust on some distant, abandoned base was unacceptable. Despite the crash and despite Captain Ithano’s anger, Kix was glad he’d gotten it back.

The door at the end of the room whooshed open, and the doctor Kix vaguely remembered from before walked in.

“Hey doc! He’s up!” Reveth called.

The woman walked across the room and fully opened the screen that marked Kix’s territory, her nose scrunched up like she smelled something foul. Now that Kix got a better look at her, he realized she was a Twi’lek hybrid. Stubby lekku extended from the back of her head down to her shoulders, barely visible through a shock of thick, blue hair. Her skin was a distinctly human hue of tan.

“He’s conscious? Good,” the woman said, looking Kix up and down. Her eyes narrowed disapprovingly at the crate that still rested on his lap, and without comment she picked it up and pushed it under his bed. “How are your ribs?”

“Broken,” Kix said.

The woman nodded. “They’ll hurt for a while. Some nysillin will help, but time is the best healer.”

Kix groaned his agreement. The splints on his leg looked good and the room, though out-of-date and spartan, was well-maintained. Whoever this woman was, as a man of medicine Kix could respect her.

“Well, try to get some sleep,” the woman said, making some notes on her datapad. “You’ve got a punctured lung, a few broken ribs, and two broken legs, but considering the state of that ship of yours, you’re in pretty good shape. I’ll be using some bacta on those legs and you should be able to get around fairly easily in a day or two.”

Kix closed his eyes again, performing a mental self-examination to confirm her diagnosis. It all checked out.

He opened his eyes again. “I’m Kix. Who are you?”

The woman pursed her lips like she didn’t want to tell him. He remembered what he’d heard when they were bringing him in. That thing is made for violence.

“You can call me Dr. Bosc,” she said eventually. “Pleased to meet you.”

---

“Bly! I need you to get over to that ridge and bring down those turrets!” Aayla shouted over the din of blaster fire and mortars.

“On it!” Bly shouted back, motioning for two ARC troopers and two heavy infantry to follow him and sprinting out from behind cover. 

Bly. Bly. Bly. She never called him Commander anymore. Everything would be so much easier if she would.

His team made short work of the turrets, moving with the grace and efficiency Bly drilled into them day in and day out. It was that skill that would hopefully keep them alive.

Until the day Aayla had broken down after Maridun, Bly had just assumed he’d end up dead before the war was over and hadn’t thought too much about it. Now he thought differently. He wanted to live and he wanted desperately to ensure that every man under his command lived too, no matter how impossible that sounded. It was harder to live this way—harder to maintain hope every day only to have it dashed by the devastation of each casualty his battalion suffered—but Bly could live with the pain. Anything was better than the empty detachment of resignation.

Other things had been different, too. Now that he’d convinced himself he’d live beyond the end of the war, he’d started thinking about his life after. And that was dangerous, dangerous thinking for a clone like him.

“Get down!” Quark yelled.

Bly barely had time to throw himself to the dirt before a hail of blaster fire tore through the air. He crawled through the gravelly earth to the base of the turret they’d just destroyed, using the low platform on which it rested for cover. His team stayed pressed to the ground for several minutes while Bly looked for an opening, but it was no good. A whole company of battle droids had followed them up the ridge, blocking their way out.

“General Secura,” he said into his comm, “We’re pinned down on the ridge. Requesting backup.”

“On my way,” came her snappy response.

I didn’t mean you had to come personally, Bly thought. She surely had more important places to be on the battlefield. He knew she had more important places to be—he could hear that from the comms. 

“Sir! They’re flanking us!” Broadside yelled, and sure enough, a squad of clankers was coming up the other side of the ridge, boxing them in against the steep dropoff beyond the turret.

“Damn,” Bly said. “Alright, we’ve gotta go over the edge. Clankers are worse at covering terrain.”

“Sir?” Broadside said, alarm evident in his voice. “We’ll be totally exposed!”

“I know, but this is our only chance. I’ll try to provide covering fire as long as I can.”

“Sir-”

“That’s an order, soldier!”

Broadside saluted sharply, then pulled his WESTAR M5 from its harness around his back and handed it to Bly. He and his fellow ARC trooper attached their grappling hooks to the base of the turret, lashed themselves to one infantryman each, and started a rapid, precarious descent down the steep face of the ridge. 

Bly grabbed the M5 and switched it to burst mode, then unleashed a spray of blaster bolts on the advancing droids, trying his best to draw fire away from the exposed troopers. After a minute or two of concentrated fire, he chanced a look down to check on their progress. Three troopers were dashing back to the safety of the rest of the battalion, while a fourth lay broken at the bottom of the ridge.

“Karking hell,” Bly hissed. He’d lost another one.

A blaster shot singed a glancing blow off the top of his helmet, and Bly put a halt to his self-recriminations. One of the ARC troopers had helpfully left his grappling hook attached, so Bly grabbed it with two gloved hands and barrelled headfirst down the steep incline. He let his momentum carry him, his feet finding their next hold by instinct and sheer luck, and in less than a minute he was at the bottom. His hands tangled in the wire of the grappling hook, and in the split second it took to free himself, a high-powered blaster bolt nailed him right in the ribs, cutting straight through his plastoid armor.

Bly was on the dirt, face up, waiting for death, when a pair of arms grabbed him under the elbows and dragged him away.

“You’re not dying today, sir!”

The chaos of battle sounded around him, but Bly had very little sense of what was going on. Then the unmistakable whirr of a lightsaber cutting through air and metal filled his ears, and he started to believe that he might make it out alive.

The trooper dragged him into a somewhat sheltered alcove, and suddenly Aayla was by his side.

“What happened, Bly?” she demanded, her elegant features hovering tense and fierce across his field of vision.

“Clanker nailed me,” he managed to get out. “Forgot to duck.”

She narrowed her eyes at his attempt at humor, then sliced the chestplate right off him with several expertly-placed cuts of her lightsaber. She let out a sharp hiss at the sight of the wound, and Bly couldn’t bring himself to tilt his chin downwards to look.

The sound of fighting grew near again, but Aayla didn’t seem to notice. She knelt over him and carefully placed both hands just around the searing pain emanating from his ribs and closed her eyes, her breath coming in deeply through her nose. Nothing happened.

For several long moments all Bly could hear was the not-so-distant crackle of blaster fire and the slow, even breaths of his General. 

“They’re closing in on our position, sir,” a clone voice called out, and Aayla cursed under her breath.

The hands on Bly’s torso pressed down with slightly more force and Aayla gritted her teeth. He could practically feel the force of her will urging his body to knit together, but nothing happened.

“Why oh why can I never heal when I need to?” she muttered, her accent growing thick with frustration.

The sound of blaster fire drew closer, and the shuffle of nervous clone feet reached Bly’s ears. Expending nearly all of his remaining energy, he forced a hand up to grab Aayla’s wrist.

“Aayla. You told me to tell you when you’re being rash.”

The harshness of her expression held for a moment, then melted into resignation. She looked up to some trooper outside of Bly’s field of vision.

“Broadside, I want a medevac for Commander Bly right now.”

“Yes sir!”

She placed a hand on either side of Bly’s face and pressed her forehead to his, her breath warm and comforting against his face. “Don’t die on me, Bly.”

He muttered something about promising and that he’d be fine, but his vision was already starting to blur. More friendly arms lifted him up and onto a stretcher of some kind, and suddenly he was moving again.

All he could see was the sky above him, fixed and immovable as terrain warped and shifted in his peripherals. His thoughts were muddled and confused, but they always seemed to end up returning to the same fact: he was in love with Aayla Secura.

---

It took four days for Kix to be able to put weight on his legs again. 

“It would have been faster if I could spare more bacta,” Dr. Bosc said as she helped him out of bed. “But my resources are limited.”

Having watched her clinic operate the past four days, Kix had to agree. Dr. Bosc was the only medical professional for miles, and she was regularly inundated with patients seeking treatment for a variety of maladies ranging from eye infections to traumatic brain injuries. Kix imagined the unpredictability was also difficult to manage—some days were slower and other days she was entirely overwhelmed.

“I understand, doctor,” Kix said, gripping Dr. Bosc’s forearms firmly to steady himself.

Dr. Bosc gave him a curt nod, then stepped backwards, urging him to test his newly-mended legs. Kix took a tentative step forward, his leg shaking slightly under his weight but ultimately holding firm.

“Looking good there, Kix!” Quiggold called from his seat in the corner, and Kix thanked him with a small smile.

At least one member of the crew had come to visit Kix every day, which he appreciated. It still wasn’t close to approaching the feeling of having his brothers at his back, but Kix was beginning to feel a genuine camaraderie with his crewmates. It was one of the only things about his new life that gave him any measure of comfort.

Dr. Bosc led Kix in several wobbly loops around the clinic, past a Felcuian laid up with a high fever, a Human with a broken leg, and a Weequay woman suffering from dementia. The clinic had really filled up in the past day or two, and Kix had to give it up for the doctor for juggling all her patients with no help.

They passed by Dr. Bosc’s desk, where stacks of paperwork and prescription orders towered, some teetering precariously close to the edge. The only other thing on the desk was an odd sort of T-shaped wooden totem with a chain of connected wooden ornaments dangling off each end.

“Now that I’m mobile I could lend a hand with your clinic, doctor,” Kix said.

Dr. Bosc shot him a contemptuous look out of the corner of her eye. “No, thank you.”

“I’m a medic. I have training. And it looks like you could use the help,” he said, looking pointedly at the desk.

“No,” she said, leaving Kix to balance on his own for a moment to straighten out the stacks most in danger of falling. When she was finished she picked up the totem and placed it in the neatest corner of the desk, careful to keep it safe distance from the edge.

She returned to Kix, and he pursed his lips but said no more. If any of these patients died because their doctor was too stubborn to accept help… 

They finished their final loop around the room and Dr. Bosc helped Kix back onto the bed. Kix started to get settled back into his pillows, but Dr. Bosc disappeared into a storage closet and returned with a set of crutches.

“Good job,” she said, handing the crutches over. “You’re discharged.”

Kix held the crutches and blinked up at her in surprise. Surely she wasn’t serious.

“He can barely walk, doc. He can stay another day, can’t he?” Quiggold asked.

“Does this look like a daycare center to you?” Dr. Bosc said, gesturing to her other patients. “I said he could stay until he could walk. He can walk now, so he’s no longer welcome here.”

Quiggold got to his feet. “What is your problem, lady? If you have a problem with Kix, you have a problem with all of us.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dr. Bosc said, her golden-brown eyes flashing in anger.

“It’s ok, Quiggold,” Kix said. Then he turned to the doctor, curious to understand the mystery that had been eating at him since his arrival here. “My friends know what I am because I told them. How do you know what I am?”

Dr. Bosc glared. “Because you look exactly like my father.”

Kix froze, his brain short circuiting. Father. Father. You look exactly like my father.

“What?” said Quiggold.

Kix’s fingers tightened around his crutches, his knuckles turning white. “Your father was a clone soldier?”

“Yes,” Dr. Bosc spat. “So I have firsthand knowledge of the violence and deception hard-coded into your DNA.”

Deception? Violence Kix could understand, but deception?

“Well hey there, that’s uncalled for-” Quiggold started.

“It’s alright,” Kix said, struggling to his feet. “I’ll see myself out.”

Kix hobbled to the exit as fast as his busted limbs would let him. If this woman really was the child of a clone, then she probably had some justifiable grievances. Her father was likely a very limited part of her life, and perhaps he’d been more than simply negligent. But that did not mean that Kix was about to sit here and listen while this woman disparaged millions of his dead brothers.

Quiggold followed after him, lending him a hand once they were out of the clinic and guiding him through the musty town to where the Meson Martinet had landed. 

“What was that all about?” he asked. “Is she really the child of a clone?”

“I don’t know,” Kix said shortly. “It’d be a strange thing to lie about.”

“I guess that makes you her uncle.”

Kix leveled a flat look at Quiggold, and he raised his hands in self defense. 

“Hey, just an observation!”

Kix entered the cracked-open shell of the Martinet’s living quarters, stubbornly ignoring the ache in his leg though his medical expertise told him he couldn’t afford to.

“Just hand me an arc wrench so we can fix this ship and get off this miserable planet.”

---

“Get back!” Aayla yelled as the blast doors to the control room burst open.

Bly reflexively ducked for cover, knowing better than to hesitate when it came to his General’s orders. 

They’d been pushing to take out the Separatist base for days now, and they’d finally reached the control tower where intelligence told them the Separatist general would be. The nearness of their goal only reinforced the need for caution in Bly’s minds—those who led from the back often fortified their positions with the toughest security.

Bly used his viewfinder to sneak a peak over the duracrete barrier he’d claimed for cover, his alarm spiking as he realized why Aayla had warned her men away.

Aayla was locked in heated battle with the bald, malicious Sith assassin, Ventress. The dark Force user was wielding her twin sabers to great effect, and though Aayla was a famed duelist, her skills were clearly being put to the test.

“Hold your ground,” Bly repeated over the comm to his troops. He understood that they all had the same instinct he did to rush to the General’s defense, but Aayla had given Bly very specific instructions should this exact situation arise.

“If I meet another Force user in battle, I want you and the men to steer clear, you understand? Those abilities are above your pay grade and my opponent will not be above using you as sentient shields to get to me.”

Bly understood this in theory—had agreed with her, even—but putting it into practice now was a different matter.

Bly had seen Aayla spar thousands of times, frequently against other Jedi. She was undoubtedly more technically skilled than Ventress. But as Bly kept watch over the duel through his viewfinder, it became clear that Ventress had a ferocity—a raw, hateful power—that the General lacked. 

Back pressed against the duracrete, Bly’s fists clenched as he watched the duel progress. He fought the instincts that screamed at him to intervene, to assist, to defend—over all of those urges was the ultimate tenet of obedience.

The duel had moved its way down the hallway and away from the blast doors, and Aayla was now backed up against a wall of transparisteel with nowhere to go. There was a fatigue in her shoulders that Bly knew well, and she didn’t hold firm against Ventress like someone who knew they were going to win. Something snapped in Bly’s mind, and a decision was made.

“Everyone else, continue to hold your ground until I or the General say otherwise,” he said into his comm.

A chorus of “Yessirs,” followed him, and he leapt over the barrier and sprinted towards the duelists. When he was still a good 30 meters away, he pulled out his rifle and aimed carefully. All he needed to do was distract the assassin for a brief moment, enough to give Aayla an opening.

The shrill whine of blaster fire tore through the air as Bly opened fire, squeezing off five shots in rapid succession at Ventress’s back. 

Ventress whirled around, dodging and deflecting with sinuous grace. None of Bly’s shots struck true, but that hadn’t been the point. He’d wanted to get her attention, and he’d succeeded.

Behind Ventress, Aayla noticed her opening and lunged, but Ventress was already gone. She was sprinting full-tilt towards Bly, a sneer on her lips and murder in her eyes. Bly kept shooting at her, using his knowledge of Aayla’s movement patterns to predict where the assassin would dodge. One of his bolts singed her arm, but that only enraged her even more.

In an instant she was on him, his blaster tossed to the side and her hand around his throat. Bly resisted the urge to close his eyes, memories of what had happened to Colt passing through his mind. At least it would be quick.

“You dare to attack me?” Ventress hissed, her voice low and smoky.

Her fingers tightened around Bly’s windpipe, squeezing the air from his lungs. Bly summoned up the last of his breath to respond to her.

“Always.”

Ventress’s sneer turned vicious, and her fingers tightened further, completely starving him of oxygen and summoning black spots to his vision.

“Get away from him!”

The fingers around Bly’s throat disappeared and his body crumpled to the ground. Bly’s hazy world tilted sideways, and through his distorted vision Aayla pounced on Ventress with the ferocity of a gundark.

She slashed downward onto Ventress’s head and Ventress lunged sideways to avoid the strike. Then Aayla swung her blade around for a second strike, faster than lightning, this time aimed at Ventress’s midsection. The Sith assassin jerked backwards, but only far enough to avoid a killing blow. The tip of Aayla’s saber dragged a searing slash across Ventress’s torso, and she howled in pain and fury.

Aayla pressed her advantage, moving in on Ventress, but Ventress simply leapt away, switching off her lightsabers and disappearing out a nearby window.

Relief flooded Bly’s cloudy head, and he closed his eyes, letting himself relax. His blessed rest was interrupted when a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Bly? Bly, can you hear me?” 

Bly opened his eyes, the beautiful sight of a healthy and whole Aayla Secura greeting him. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then get back to the med tent ASAP.”

“Sir, I can fight-”

“Now, Bly.”

Aayla directed a trooper to help Bly to a medic, and several hours later found Bly waiting in his blacks, still foggy and dazed, in the corner of the med tent along with the rest of the non-critically injured. 

The comms told Bly that their operation was over, and not long afterwards Aayla herself marched into the tent, looking tired and angry. She scanned the room, finding Bly quickly and coming to fetch him.

“Debrief in my office. Now,” she said

The harshness of her tone cleared Bly’s cloudy mind, and he jumped to attention, following after her like he always did. They entered the tent that served as Aayla’s office in the field, and as soon as the flap closed behind them, she rounded on him.

“I was very explicit about what to do if I engage an enemy Force user, was I not?”

“You were,” Bly conceded.

“And yet my orders were not heeded.”

“All due respect, sir, I followed your orders until it looked like following them might get you killed.”

“It was a direct order, Bly.”

Anger bubbled up in Bly’s chest, a foreign feeling to him, especially when it came to Aayla. “I made a judgment call! You told me you needed not just a Commander, but a friend. If we’re going to be equals in any way, you need to trust my judgment.”

Aayla took a step towards him, her whole body tilting forward like she was still on the battlefield. “Well I don’t trust your judgment when it puts you in mortal danger!”

“I’m a soldier, Aayla! It’s my job to be in mortal danger!” he said, his voice rasping as his vocal cords reminded him of the abuse they’d been put through today.

Aayla stopped herself from saying more, though she was practically vibrating with anger. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the tactic successfully calming her after several breaths.

Bly eyed her warily, though when she opened her eyes again there was a calm resignation there that assured him their friendship would survive. There was something else in her bearing, though, that gave him pause. Not hostility or anger, but something charged and weighty. It made Bly nervous.

She took another step towards him and lifted her hand to his chest, her fingers not quite touching though Bly could swear he felt the impact. She raised her hand further and pressed her fingers tenderly into the skin of Bly’s neck, and any remaining frustration from their argument was instantly erased.

“Are you alright?”

He swallowed, and he knew she could feel the muscles in his throat constricting under her fingers. “I’ll live.”

“You’d better. Hold still.”

Aayla closed her eyes and hummed in concentration, her entire body calming and entering a state of perfect stillness. The air buzzed with energy, but  the flowing, peaceful energy of the ocean rather than the frenetic energy of lightning. Bly had never felt so complete.

Her hands remained on his neck, and under her touch his skin warmed, then the ache gradually lifted, the tenderness melting away. 

Bly expected her to step away, but she stayed close, her hand sliding down his neck and landing on his shoulder, one thumb resting along his collarbone.

“I know you’re a soldier, and I know that means you’ll always be in harm’s way,” she said. “But if you died to protect me? If you died because of me? It would kill me, Bly.”

This couldn’t be real. Aayla was so much more than Bly was. She was more powerful, more beautiful, more important. How could he matter so much to her? Bly stared hard at her and shook his head, willing thoughts of kissing her, of loving her, out of his unworthy brain.

“That’s… silly,” he said lamely, not knowing what else to say.

“Why would that be silly?” Aayla asked, her beautiful hazel eyes going wide with confusion. She was still so close to him he could see the subtle shift in color of her irises. He’d never been close enough to anyone besides his brothers to see that before.

Her body leaned further and further into his as he floundered for an answer, his training on Kamino providing absolutely no insight. “I don’t matter that much,” he said eventually. “I’m just… Bly.”

She smiled, the motion crinkling the cerulean skin around her eyes. “Exactly.”

Her nose brushed his, but she didn’t move any further. She just stayed there, breathing the same air as him, teasing, taunting. For several tense, protracted moments Bly resisted. This was definitely not the kind of relationship he was supposed to have with a superior officer. This wasn’t the kind of relationship he was supposed to have with anyone.

Then Bly looked down into Aayla’s eyes again, and the love and affection there overwhelmed him. His brothers loved him, but this was a different kind of love—it was warm and fierce, possessive and generous, selfish and selfless all at the same time. She was so close to him, and she wanted him. Who was he to deny her?

Bly surged forward, catching Aayla’s lips in his. She gasped a little, as if she hadn’t actually believed he would kiss her, but she recovered quickly. She held his face in her hands, her thumbs stroking across the golden tattoos on his cheeks, and her careful, tender kiss made him feel like the only thing that mattered in the galaxy.

It was Bly’s first kiss and he had no idea what he was doing, but he thanked Jango for whatever instincts kept him from making an utter fool of himself. He sensed some uncertainty from Aayla, too, though she was better at hiding it. He decided not to worry too much and to just do what felt good and natural, so he slid his hands down to her waist and pulled her flush against him.

She sighed, the action heaving her chest against his, and he tightened his hold. Aayla slid her hands into his hair and deepened their kiss, her mouth moving against him with greater purpose and intensity.

Even though she was brave and strong and could kill him in a second if she wanted, she felt small and vulnerable in his arms. He wanted to envelope her completely, to protect her and love her and be her place of rest. He wanted to do some other things to her, too, that felt less pure but still mutually desirable.

One of Bly’s hands crept up her waist, his thumb hesitating at the bottom of her ribs, and the other moved to cup the back of her head under her lekku. She moaned and the sinful sound demanded retaliatory action. Bly took several steps forward, backing her into her desk, and he pressed himself against her hard. Her fingers tightened in his hair and her mouth opened, her tongue meeting his.

“General Secura! ARC trooper Broadside here with a status report!” a voice called from just outside the tent.

Bly and Aayla shot away from each other like two identically polarized magnets.

“Come in,” Aayla called, fussily sitting herself behind her desk and trying to distract from the azure blush to her cheeks.

Broadside came in and saluted sharply. “Sir! No more Separatist forces found in the area. Casualties are high and our medical resources insufficient to treat them. Requesting backups from the 361st.”

A slight frown crinkled her beautiful brow. “Of course. Stitches should have requested it even if I’m not there—there’s no need to wait.”

“We’re not allowed to request medical aid without your permission, sir. Stitches was looking for you for a while but couldn’t find you.”

Aayla’s flush deepened and she looked down at her desk, shuffling a few pieces of flimsi around pointlessly. “Well he has my permission now. Dismissed.”

Broadside left the tent and Bly stood awkwardly in the corner while Aayla rested her elbow on her desk, all signs of the happy, eager woman of a few minutes ago gone. Bly knew what she was going to say before she even said it. Hell, he even had to agree with her.

Aayla’s eyes flicked up towards Bly. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

---

The first person to show up to the Martinet looking for Kix had a broken toe.

“I went to see Doc Bosc, but she told me Mrs. Xelaut is having a baby today and to come back tomorrow. It really hurts and I don’t want to wait that long!” the young Tholothian boy said, balancing precariously on his good foot just outside the Martinet’s main port.

Kix showed the kid mercy, letting him inside and finding him a chair. It had been two weeks since their crash landing and the crew was still in full-on rebuild mode, working long hours and getting creative with their supplies to put things back together with limited resources.

“I dunno, kid. I think the good doctor might not like it if I start treating her patients,” Kix said, his hands on his hips.

The boy’s face fell. “I’m not going to stop seeing her. I just need someone to wrap up my foot, and she’s busy right now!”

Kix studied the boy’s hopeful face, trying to weigh out exactly how much trouble he’d cause by lending a hand. Then his eyes fell to the foot the boy kept hovering a few inches off the ground so as not to jostle it. His shoe was off and his big toe was swollen black and blue. Kix’s jaw set. He was a medic, and it was his responsibility to treat the injured, no matter what anyone else said.

“Alright then,” he said, helping the boy to his feet. “Ship’s got a small medbay. I can get a biocast for you and get you some meds that will take the edge off a bit.”

The boy whooped and Kix couldn’t help but smile as he provided a steady arm for the boy to balance with while hopping through the ship. A half hour later and the boy walked out of the ship with a pair of makeshift crutches, a tiny biocast for his toe, and a smile on his face.

Word spread quickly of Kix’s services, and soon locals who couldn’t find a spot at Dr. Bosc’s clinic were showing up to see Kix at the Meson Martinet on a regular basis. Quiggold grumbled and Captain Ithano silently disapproved at first, but they changed their tune once grateful patients and their families started making an extra effort to get them the supplies they needed to fix the ship. 

At first it was only one or two people a day, and sometimes nobody at all. Dr. Bosc was an excellent physician, after all, and most of the time she could see her patients as soon as they needed. But then a nasty bout of the flu made its way around town, and soon there were five, ten, fifteen people coming round the ship a day.

Leveraging all of his scrappy field medicine skills, Kix jury-rigged together a tent with some cots and set up a clinic outside the ship. Captain Ithano’s patience was limited, and Kix figured the more he could keep patients from getting underfoot during the repairs, the longer the Captain’s good graces would last.

The flu was a particularly nasty strain, but thankfully as the ship’s doctor Kix had insisted that the whole crew get vaccinated for a wide variety of ailments several months ago, so none of them fell ill. The rest of the town was not so lucky, and soon it seemed every family had been affected one way or another.

By day four of the outbreak, Kix was more tired than he’d been since waking from cryo-sleep. He was constantly inserting IV’s, taking temperatures, changing sheets, getting bedding, and preparing bacta capsules. He was so busy that it took him awhile to realize something strange: he was happy.

Each discharged local felt like a personal victory. The relief writ clear on his patients’ faces when he told them he could help filled, at least partially, the hole inside of Kix that his brothers had left behind. He was in his element, using his skills and expertise to assist those in need.

That newly-discovered happiness deflated when he saw Dr. Bosc marching up to his tent clinic with narrowed eyes and balled-up fists. 

“I need to speak with you immediately,” she demanded as soon as she was within hearing distance.

“Certainly,” Kix said, first making sure his patient was comfortable, then leading Dr. Bosc away from the tent where she wouldn’t cause a scene.

“How can I help you, doctor?” Kix asked once they were a reasonable distance away.

“You know exactly why I’m here,” she accused, her tan features taking on a reddish hue.

Now that Kix knew her father was a clone, he could see the resemblance. The lekku were obviously not part of her father’s legacy, but her light brown eyes, thick, dark hair, and the way her mouth set in a wide, flat line all reminded him fiercely of his brothers. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be specific, doctor. I can’t imagine why anyone would be angry at a medic providing medical treatment.”

Dr. Bosc’s eyebrows rose, as if to question the audacity of his statement. Kix had to admit that raising her ire was somewhat satisfying.

“You are stealing my patients. What kind of a person takes advantage of sick people for profit?”

“I don’t charge my patients anything beyond the cost of materials. They are getting my time for free,” Kix said as calmly as he could manage.

“But money isn’t the only problem! These are patients who I’ve developed a rapport with! Patients whose medical histories I know! They’re happy you’re helping them now, but what happens in a month or two, when you’re not here anymore? Did you even think about that?”

“Yes, I did think of that, which is why I offered to help you over a week ago. But you said no. Then what was I supposed to do when people who couldn’t find a spot in your clinic showed up asking me for help? Turn them away? I swore an oath to heal the wounded and restore the weary, and I will not break it just to sooth your wounded ego!”

Dr. Bosc recoiled like he’d physically attacked her. She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, her expression shifting between rage, guilt, and confusion.

“Maybe when you’ve figured out what you’re actually upset about we can talk,” Kix said.

He turned on his heel and walked away, trying his best to just leave it at that. He didn’t know what this woman’s father had done to her, but it didn’t justify the way she was treating him. It didn’t justify her judgment of all of the clones.

“Wait!” Dr. Bosc called from behind him, but Kix just kept walking.

She caught up to him and blocked his path, arms spread wide. “Just wait a second, ok? I’m sorry.”

Kix raised his eyebrows at her. “Is that so?”

“Yes, you were right. I haven’t been fair to you.”

“Fine,” Kix said, moving to walk past her. “Apology accepted.”

“No, wait, please!” she said, grabbing him by the arm. “I really am sorry, and the truth is… I could really use your help.”

“Really?” Kix said flatly. “Now you want my help?”

Dr. Bosc took a deep breath, then exhaled, her posture relaxing and her expression contrite. “Look, I have a lot of problems with my father, but that’s not your fault, and I apologize for letting it affect the way I treat you. I have resources you could use. Set up your tent outside my clinic, and together both our lives will be easier.”

Kix narrowed his eyes at her, attempting to gauge her sincerity. And even if she was sincere, would they be able to work together peacefully?

“Alright. I’ll move everything tonight,” he said.

He’d treated patients in the middle of open warfare. How hard could it be to get along with one middle-aged doctor?

---

Bly was back to calling her General.

He knew it hurt her feelings, but if he was supposed to forget the way she tasted , the way her body felt pressed up against his, then there was no way he could continue to call her Aayla.

They left the GAR headquarters on Coruscant together late one night, the details of their strategy meeting still buzzing around in Bly’s head. The war wasn’t going well. The GAR had seen some decisive victories recently, but it wasn’t enough, and there was no sign of hostilities ending any time soon.

“I’m shipping out tomorrow, but you should report to the Coruscant Guard in the morning. I agreed to lend you to Commander Stone to help oversee the training of a company of new arrivals from Kamino,” General Secura said as they approached the speeder that would take her back to the Jedi Temple.

Bly stopped in his tracks. “More training, General?”

General Secura turned her head back to Bly, her eyebrow raised. “Is there a problem?”

Bly’s jaw clicked. “No, sir.”

“Good.”

She opened the door to the speeder and slid inside. This was the part where Bly stood on the landing pad and watched while General Secura flew away, then turned back to the GAR headquarters and went to sleep in his tiny bunk in his tiny quarters. This was the part where he obediently listened to orders and did what he was told.

Bly slid into the back of the speeder after General Secura, shutting the door behind him and signalling the driver to depart. The driver shot General Secura a questioning look, and she first looked doubtfully at Bly, then nodded to the driver.

“Got something to say, Commander?” she said.

“You’ve got to put me back on the front lines, sir. It’s where I belong.”

“You’re just as much use to me here, Bly.”

“That’s not true and you know it. Please don’t do this out of some misguided attempt to protect me. This is what I want. This is what I was meant to do.”

A pained expression crossed General Secura’s face. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, and there’s no shame in it. I’m a soldier. I’m good at it. I enjoy it. Let me be what I am.”

“You are an amazing soldier, Bly, and I’ll bring you on this next campaign if that’s what you want. But are you sure… Are you sure you’ll never want anything else?”

The question gave Bly pause. “...I’ve never really thought about it.”

“I think that sometimes we have different purposes at different times in our lives. Maybe now you were meant to be a soldier, but some time in the future you can be something else. Maybe now I am meant to be a Jedi, but some time in the future…”

Bly stared at Aayla like she’d grown an extra head. Was she suggesting she might someday leave the Order?

Aayla shook her head and she rubbed at her temples.  “Don’t listen to me, I’m just feeling… out of sorts.”

Bly had noticed. Before their strategy session the General had come from a meeting at the Jedi Temple, and he’d seen the tension in her shoulders and the distant look in her eyes. 

“Is… something wrong at the Temple?” he asked tentatively.

General Secura looked sideways at him, her gaze hard and measuring for a moment before she relented. “Not wrong, exactly. I was just coming from the tribunal for Ahsoka Tano.”

“Oh.” Bly had heard about that. The young Jedi he’d first met at Quell had been accused of planting bombs at the Jedi Temple. It seemed unlikely to him, but you never knew. People could surprise you. “What was the result?”

“She was ejected from the Order.”

Bly remained silent. He’d known men who’d died in that blast.

“She wasn’t ejected because we found her guilty. She was ejected in order to stand trial in a GAR court. She hasn’t been found guilty yet,” General Secura clarified.

“I’m sorry. She seemed like a really good kid.”

General Secura sighed. “I don’t know if she did it. Maybe we’ll never know. But if one thing is clear it’s that something isn’t quite right within the Order. And I worry for Ahsoka and the other young Jedi. I worry what they’ll face in the years to come.”

The idea of the Jedi Order being less than perfect was entirely foreign to Bly. The Order was beyond reproach, it was the source of leadership for the entire GAR, the font of their moral authority. That General Secura would confide in him her doubts was both incredibly unsettling and a sign of immense trust.

“Well… You are a part of the Order. So I know it must be good,” he said, his eyes flitting shyly up to meet hers.

She smiled a soft, sad smile and rested her hand atop his on the leather seat between them. “Thank you, Bly. And thank you for… understanding.”

She didn’t elaborate, but Bly knew what she meant. He felt the same way. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for understanding the things that are important to me. Thank you for understanding why we can’t be together. Thank you for understanding me.

“Of course, Aayla.”

---

Dr. Bosc and Kix got used to working together surprisingly quickly. They were both medical professionals used to setting aside the minor problems to focus on the life-threatening ones, and cooperation was an absolute necessity due to the severity of the flu season.

At first Dr. Bosc was constantly checking over Kix’s work, grilling his patients about his bedside manner and double-checking that he’d given the right medication at the right time. It grated on Kix’s patience, but there was no place for ego on the battlefield, and he refused to let his irritation with her harm any of the people coming to the clinic for help.

Kix also felt the urge to be on his best behavior to prove Dr. Bosc wrong about clones. It rankled him that he cared what she thought, but he couldn’t get himself to let it go. It wasn’t fair to have to serve as an ambassador for all of his kind, but then again he was the last living clone. He was quite literally the only representation of who they were left in the galaxy.

Over time Kix’s consistent competence combined with the sheer amount of work to get done meant that Dr. Bosc stopped hovering and gave him more and more freedom to treat his patients as he saw fit. His grudging respect for her grew as well, as he witnessed her medical knowledge and the kindness and compassion she showed to everyone who stepped through her doors. Everyone but him, of course.

After another week of taking temperatures, replacing fluids, and administering medicine, the flu outbreak finally abated and the deluge of patients slowed to a trickle. Kix packed up the tent and temporary cots, but he kept on helping Dr. Bosc at the clinic. Work on the Martinet was progressing slowly, and Kix felt more useful assisting at the clinic than guessing at the right wrench to hand Reveth on the ship.

“Kix, can you get the maternity med unit ready for me?” Dr. Bosc asked one morning not long after the wave of flu patients had ebbed. 

Kix looked up from the sterilizer he was using to clean their bio-injectors. “Another one?”

Two women had already delivered at the clinic since Kix had arrived—both Felucians. Kix had been busy with the fever patients at the time so he hadn’t assisted with delivery, but he’d seen the women walk out of the clinic the next day with their tiny, rotund babies.

Dr. Bosc shrugged. “Felucians have a cyclical mating season. And seasonal mating-”

“-means seasonal birthing.”

“Exactly. And I’d appreciate it if you lent a hand on this one since we’re having a slower day.”

“Sure thing,” Kix said, finishing up with the sterilizer and going to get the maternity med unit out of storage.

“I won’t need help with anything too complicated.” Dr. Bosc said when Kix returned. “All you’ll need to do is-”

“Actually I’ve delivered a baby before. She wasn’t Felucian, but my understanding is the process is pretty similar.”

Dr. Bosc’s eyebrows rose. “Really? I didn’t realize you were trained in that sort of thing.”

“We focused on field medicine, yes, but we got a rough overview on everything else, too.”

“And when did you run into a woman in labor on the battlefield?”

Kix gave her a secretive grin. “Oh, it’s a long story.”

Dr. Bosc frowned, but any further questioning was halted by the arrival of the expectant mother, her round eyes wide with fear and her hand clenched tightly against her very pregnant belly.

They got to work, ushering the woman to her bed and giving her painkillers while explaining how the long process would go. Kix had only just gotten her settled when a panicked voice shouted out from the entrance.

“Hey! I’ve got a badly injured kid here!”

Kix and the doctor whirled around and a disheveled man staggered in carrying a young boy in his arms. The boy’s leg had been mangled almost beyond recognition and was covered in blood, his face ashen white as he clutched tightly to the man’s shirt.

“Oh my goodness!” Dr. Bosc rushed over to him and directed him to the nearest bed while Kix ran to get some bacta and a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.

“We were out on the combine when his leg got stuck on one of the beams and…” the man who’d brought the boy in said, choking off into sobs.

Kix grimaced as he tied the tourniquet tight and examined the leg. Some white was visible through the red, and his skin was torn to shreds.

The Felucian mother shrieked from somewhere behind Kix, and he jumped. He’d forgotten her in the rush.

Dr. Bosc put a hand on his shoulder. “You handle the kid. I’ll come over to lend a hand whenever I can.”

“You sure?” Kix asked. She’d been fiercely protective of her most serious cases so far, feeling ultimately responsible as the founder of the clinic.

“Yeah. You’re much better at trauma than me.”

Kix nodded, then turned back to the kid. “Alright. Now we’re going to stop the bleeding, then see what we can do to save the leg. What’s your name, kid?”

The kid was shivering, his eyes wide and his skin clammy with shock. “K...K...Kin.”

“Well that’s almost like my name! I’m Kix,” he said as he set bacta patches on the pieces of skin that wouldn’t need sutures to heal. “You’ve been very brave so far, and I know you can do this, alright? We’ll get through it together.”

“O...Ok.”

By nightfall the boy was resting peacefully in his hospital bed, a bio-cast over the entire length of his leg and a stuffed convor tucked under his arm. A tiny Felucian baby slept in a bassinet in the corner while his mother rested on the med unit. Kix and Dr. Bosc checked one last time to make sure there was nothing more their patients needed, then they both retreated to the storage room and nearly collapsed onto the futon at the back of the room.

“Ugh, what a long day!” Dr. Bosc said, stretching her arms wide and cracking her neck.

“I thought things would get easier after flu season,” Kix said.

“That’s the life we signed up for. At least every day is different.”

Kix’s mouth quirked upwards into a weak smile, and he shrugged his shoulders. “Better than the battlefield.”

Dr. Bosc leaned back in the futon and eyed Kix appraisingly, her stubby lekku fitting just over the backrest. “You’re a good doctor, Kix. Kin would have lost his leg if not for you.”

Kix’s smile grew into a smirk. “I’m a medic, not a doctor.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “That kind of certification only matters on a planet like Coruscant. Out here the only thing that matters is your ability. And by that measure you more than qualify.”

Kix didn’t need her approval. He hadn’t even really wanted it. But there was still something pleasant about knowing that working with him had increased her respect for him. “Thanks, doc.”

Dr. Bosc twisted her hands together nervously, and Kix noticed for the first time the blue shade of the palms of her hands. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to trust you. But I do now. Thank you for helping me.”

Kix laughed and let his head fall back over the top of the backrest. “Well, what else was there to do?”

She chuckled softly, and Kix closed his eyes, a deep fatigue setting into his bones. During the war this was when he would have busted out the stims, but Dr. Bosc didn’t have many of those and he didn’t want to keep them from people who really needed them.

“How are you still alive?” Dr. Bosc asked, the curiosity strong in her voice.”You should be much older. You should be dead.”

“I was in cryo-sleep,” Kix said, stifling a yawn. “From right before the end of the war until a year ago. It’s… a long story.”

“For another night,” Dr. Bosc said, getting to her feet with a groan. “You can sleep here overnight if you want. On the futon.”

“You just want me to take care of the baby when she wakes up in an hour.”

“The thought had crossed my mind…”

Kix wanted to say no. He wanted to get up and walk down the hill to the Martinet and collapse into his tiny bunk. ...But it was so far away.

“...You get first shift,” he said.

“Deal.”

---

Tomorrow might be the last day of Bly’s life.

That was technically true every day, but the possibility felt especially distinct tonight.

Bly looked over the holo displaying the plans for their assault, the blue glow of the projection appearing so benign compared to what it all might mean for him and his men. Each of those dark blips on the holo represented a full company of battle droids, and each battle droid was more than capable of firing the shot that killed any one of his men. But the munitions factory the droids guarded was key to their victory, so tomorrow they’d launch their assault.

“Everyone clear on the plan?” General Windu asked.

Commander Fisk nodded smartly next to Bly. “Yes sir.”

Bly found himself distracted momentarily by his fellow commander, the man who had replaced Ponds. Fisk stood with one arm behind his back, just like Ponds always had, and Bly wondered how much a clone’s Jedi General influenced his personality. He wondered if Fisk felt like just a replacement to the ever-stoic General Windu.

“Bly?” General Secura asked.

“No questions, sir.”

“This is likely to be a long, difficult battle,” General Secura continued. “But our victory will protect the lives of millions of Republic civilians, and help our other GAR battalions, too.”

General Windu nodded his agreement. “We’ve got a tough day ahead of us tomorrow. Rest up. Dismissed!”

Fisk and General Windu left the bunker they used as a portable command center and Bly turned to follow them.

“Hold up a moment,” General Secura said from behind him.

“Sir?” 

She was standing behind the holo, the Jedi robes she rarely wore draped loosely around her shoulders to ward against the cold of the frigid planet. Her hands twisted tightly in front of her and she bit her lip. “Tomorrow… could be a bad day.”

She was as radiant as ever, her beautiful azure skin glowing luminescent through the lights of the holo, but there was something heavy and serious about her demeanor.

“Yeah. But… we’re prepared,” Bly said, trying to find some words of comfort.

“We’re as prepared as we can be, yes. But even so, many men won’t live to see tomorrow night.”

Bly set his jaw. “We’ll both do everything we can to save as many lives as possible. That’s what we do.”

Aayla stepped out from behind the holo, wrapping her arms around her midsection. “I know, and I’m not pessimistic. I believe in our men, and I believe in the Force. But there’s something I want to give you before tomorrow.”

“Give me?” Bly asked, confused. He wasn’t really in the habit of owning things.

“Yes. I was waiting for the right time, but considering the dangers, I don’t want to miss my opportunity waiting for the perfect moment.”

She took another step towards Bly, but he stayed put by the door, ready to escape if he needed to. It had never been easy holding back his feelings for Aayla, but lately it’d been getting harder. She’d been closer, more familiar, always aware of him in a way that thrilled and tortured him. But he had to stay strong, for both their sakes.

General Secura noticed his caution, a look of hurt briefly flitting past her face. She stopped with a healthy distance between them, and she forced her hands to her sides .

“As soon as the war is over, I’m going to leave the Jedi Order.”

Bly’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking it over for some time now, and I’ve made my decision. I can’t leave now, not with the Republic and the 327th depending on me, but once the war is over I will renounce my vows.”

“But… why?”

She pulled something from a pocket in her robes and stepped just close enough to reach out and hand him a small wooden cube. He turned the cube in his hand, its smooth surface interrupted by precisely carved designs. Three sides depicted a yellow rectangle, identical in design to the tattoos on his cheeks. The other three sides were painted with diagonal blue stripes.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Among my people there is a tradition. We pass down a wooden totem from mother to daughter, and when a woman gets married she adds a piece to it representing herself and her partner. As a Jedi, I never expected to participate in this tradition, but now that I am leaving the Order…” 

Bly froze, his eyes still trained on the wooden block in his hand. The golden-yellow of his tattoos, the deep blue of her skin.

Aayla closed the distance between them, setting her hand on his and closing his fingers around the cube. “When I leave will you go with me? Will you be part of my family?”

The textured sides of the cubes felt sharp and distinct under his hyper-sensitive fingers. It was like watching his own life from above, from the side, from anywhere else. Because how could this be real? How could this be happening to someone like him?

When they had kissed before it had made a strange sort of sense. General Secura was under a tremendous amount of stress, and though she talked tough and didn’t let it affect her command, she’d always had a soft spot for her men. Under those conditions he could understand her momentarily forgetting herself and misplacing her emotions onto him.

But this? Taking the time to carefully consider and then choosing him?

“I don’t understand,” he said, the understatement of the century.

Her head tilted to the side and her eyes softened as she stepped even closer to him, resting a hand on his cheek. “Oh, Bly. Why should it be so hard to believe that I love you?”

He melted at her touch, all of his defenses instantly neutralized. He closed his eyes and turned his cheek into her palm, the hand that wasn’t holding the wooden cube coming up to rest on the back of her hand. Still, he could not speak.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever met, Bly,” she said, her voice now a whisper, “And I would be honored to spend the rest of my days with you.”

A decade of training on Kamino, thousands of meetings about discipline and regulations, even the very structure of his DNA weighed against him, holding him back, pulling him down. Then he opened his eyes and looked into her powerful, fierce, compassionate, beloved face, and he found the strength to speak.

“Yes!” He gasped. “Yes, I want that. I want you. Aayla Secura.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight, a feeling of breathtaking, unbelievable joy taking hold. His cheek rested on her lekku, and her fingers anchored into the lines of his back. 

“When the war is over, we leave together,” Aayla said, nuzzling gently into his neck. “No matter what anyone says.”

“Together,” Bly agreed.

---

It took two months, some elbow grease, and a lot of creative use of scrap, but eventually repairs on the Meson Martinet were finished. 

Quiggold insisted on a going-away party, both to celebrate the Martinet’s repairs and to thank the locals who had generously lent a hand. Reveth and Captain Ithano were against it, but Reeg was excited for any excuse to drink and Kix thought it might be nice to spend one last evening with Dr. Bosc, so the three of them outvoted the rest.

A generous spread of grilled fungi, nysillim soup, and other local delicacies filled up the small counter space in the ship’s mess, and the crew crowded around the table with Dr. Bosc, several local scrappers, and a farmer Reeg had grown close to. It was the Martinet’s way of saying farewell to the town they’d called home for two months.

The conversation was friendly and the food comforting, and Kix found himself relaxing, his mind called back to similar camaraderie in the mess hall and simpler times.

“And then Reeg came home with a power converter he bought off a Jawa, and he was surprised it didn’t work!” Reveth said, crowing with laughter.

“That power converter did work. It’s not my fault you broke it!” Reeg protested.

“Back me up here, Kix,” Reveth said.

Kix leaned back and laughed, feeling light hearted for the first time in what felt like ages. “It was busted from the beginning and you know it, Reeg.”

“Don’t listen to him, the hole in his head has turned his brain to mush!” Reeg said, his eyes glowing the particularly vibrant yellow that always accompanied an Arcona who was well in his cups.

Kix gave Reeg a mostly playful shove. He didn’t mind some good-natured ribbing, but Reeg’s joke hit too close to topics Kix would rather leave alone.

“I noticed that incision, Kix. What happened there?” Dr. Bosc asked curiously between sips of wine.

Kix grimaced. He’d thought his hair had grown back enough to cover it up, but he supposed it was inevitable that a trained eye like Dr. Bosc would pick up on it.

“Just a minor procedure. Not a big deal,” Kix said, eyes trained on the wall across from him.

“Not a big deal?” scoffed Reeg. “I’d say removing a mind control chip in your brain is a pretty big deal!”

“What?” Dr. Bosc asked, alarmed.

“Really, Reeg. Cut it out,” Kix warned.

The table fell silent, and Kix looked down at his plate and unenthusiastically pushed his fungus steak around. Out of the corner of his eye Dr. Bosc kept shooting him worried looks, like he might break out into a violent rage at any moment. Great. And I was just finally getting her to trust me.

“Doc, there’s really nothing to worry about,” Reeg said, noticing Dr. Bosc’s disquiet. “Good ol' Palpatine had a finger in every clone’s brain, but Kix figured out how he was doing it and had the chip removed.”

“I don’t know what you’re-” Dr. Bosc started.

“Got them to do all sorts of things they wouldn’t have done otherwise. How else do you think the Republic got every clone to summarily execute the Jedi without so much as a hearing?”

Kix’s grip on his fork tightened, whitening his knuckles. He really did not want to talk about this. The clatter of metal on ceramic echoed around the mess, and Kix looked up. Dr. Bosc had dropped her fork, and she looked about two seconds from throwing up.

“Doc, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Reeg said.

“Would you shut up already? Haven’t you done enough?” Reveth hissed.

Dr. Bosc shot to her feet, face sickly pale and eyes wide, and fled from the table without so much as a goodbye. Kix stared after her for a long moment, completely at a loss as to what to do.

The rest of the table fell silent and Kix swallowed, turning back to his plate. He started to take another bite of his fungus steak, but a cough from Captain Ithano forced his gaze upwards. The Captain was lounging comfortably in his chair, but his arms were crossed and his masked head tilted sideways. He caught Kix’s eye and jerked his head towards the door. Kix got up and started out the door after the doctor. The Captain wasn’t the kind of person you said no to.

Outside the ship, Felucia’s legendary night sky painted the heavens. It was a little cold, and Kix rubbed at his arms as he followed Dr. Bosc to a small clearing not far from the ship. She stood in the middle of the clearing, looking up at the sky with an oddly blank expression on her face.

“Hey, Dr. Bosc, I can leave if you want, but I wanted to make sure you’re ok-”

“Is it true, what Reeg said?”

“Is what true?”

“That there was some sort of mind control involved in the execution of the Jedi Order?”

Kix shifted from one foot to the other, unconsciously scratching at the still-puffy scar above his ear. “Yeah. I was in cryo-sleep when it happened, but I found out about it beforehand. I wanted to warn the others, but the enemy learned I knew and captured me. As far as I can tell, none of my brothers had any ability to resist when the order came through.”

Dr. Bosc stayed turned away from Kix, her oval face tilted up at the full moon. Kix maintained a respectful distance between them, though the shimmering reflection of moonlight on Dr. Bosc’s cheeks suggested she might be in need of comfort.

“Do you know why I hated you at first?” Dr. Bosc asked eventually, her voice cracking slightly on the words.

What did she mean? Kix had thought it was because her father had treated her poorly. “I’m… not sure.”

“My mother was a Jedi General, and my father was her second-in-command. When they sent me to my uncle and aunt, they said that they loved me, that they loved each other. But only a few months later when the Republic accused the Jedi of treason, my father killed my mother. Shot her in the back without a second thought.”

Kix’s heart stopped, and he stared at Dr. Bosc as if seeing her for the first time. Her stubby lekku extended just beyond her blue, curly hair. The palms of her hands were tinged with color like she’d been writing with a leaky indigo pen. She was tall and elegant, her doctor’s hands moving with a warrior’s grace.

“I came here to Felucia because this is where it happened,” Dr. Bosc continued. “I don’t really know why. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe I just wanted to understand why it happened. But now, maybe I finally have an answer.”

“Your father didn’t willingly kill your mother. That I can promise you.”

“That’s what I’d like to think, hearing what Reeg said about the chip in your brain. But I don’t think I’ll ever really know. How can I know what he was thinking?”

“Is your first name Ayy?”

She froze. “How did you know that?”

“Wait here,” Kix said, then he rushed back to his bunk on the Martinet, locating the crate of personal effects he had stowed underneath it. He rummaged around, then found what he was looking for at the bottom of his crate.

He turned around only to find Dr. Bosc waiting in the doorway to the crew quarters. Kix walked over to her and handed her the object, placing it carefully in her hands. She opened her fingers slowly, revealing a small wooden cube with yellow rectangles on three sides and blue stripes on the other three sides.

“There’s something I should tell you,” Kix said.

---

Bly thanked the Force and whatever gods there were that he was there when Aayla collapsed.

“Ahhh!” she moaned on the hard durasteel floor of her office on the Venator, her hand grasping at her abdomen.

“What is it?” Bly asked, alarmed. Aayla was tough, and he’d seen her take blaster fire to the back without flinching.

“I’ve been having these pains all day, but I took some stims and painkillers and brushed it off. But now- Ahhh!” she cut off with a sharp cry.

“Aayla? Aayla??” Bly crouched down by her side, unable to get her to her feet. She clutched tightly to his arm.

“Find a medic, please,” she said between gasps.

Bly rushed out of the office, and blessedly one of the first men he saw walking the halls had the red medic cross on his arm.

“Medic! Yes, you there! I need assistance immediately!”

Judging by his blue painted armor, he was one of the medics on loan from the 501st for training. If anything that might be for the best—Bly preferred as few troopers as possible see their General in her weakened state.

“What’s your designation?” Bly asked as he punched in the code to get back into Aayla’s office.

“CT-6116. Kix, sir.”

The door whooshed open and Bly and Kix rushed to Aayla’s side. 

“What happened?” Kix asked.

“I don’t know…” Aayla said through gritted teeth. “My stomach… hurts.”

Kix pulled off his helmet and set it on the ground, a grim expression on his face. 

“Could be appendicitis. Let’s get her to the medbay-”

“No!” Aayla said. “No… Just… Find out what’s wrong first. Here.”

Bly shot Aayla a confused look, but she just shook her head. Not now.

“If you say so, sir. Commander, help me get her onto the couch.”

Together they lifted Aayla onto the couch in the corner of the office, and Kix stuffed a few pillows under her shoulders to keep her head elevated. Kix knelt by Aayla’s side and began asking her a series of rapid-fire questions and Aayla answered as best she could between gasps and moans of pain. Bly hovered uselessly overhead, shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to the other.

“Commander, would you go to the medbay and bring me a portable med unit?” Kix asked.

“Right away,” Bly said, understanding that Kix was probably just trying to get rid of him but wanting to be useful all the same.

When he came back with the med unit, the door to Aayla’s office was shut and locked. He knocked on it, and Kix opened it only long enough to pull the med unit inside. When Bly tried to walk in after him, Kix shook his head.

“It’ll be just me and the General here for a bit, Commander.”

“You can’t order me-”

“General’s orders, sir.”

The door shut in front of Bly’s face, and he blinked uncomprehendingly at it for a long moment before going to his desk and sitting down. The longest thirty minutes of Bly’s life passed and Kix opened the door and motioned for Bly to come in. Aayla lay in the med unit, hooked up to various sensors and drips, but looking much calmer and at peace.

“So do you know what’s wrong? Will she be alright?” Bly asked.

Kix nodded to Aayla. “She can probably answer that better than me, sir.”

Aayla opened her eyes and reached a hand out towards Bly. He shot a sideways glance at Kix, but took her hand in his.

“Bly,” Aayla said, her eyes full of a strange mixture of fear and delight. “I’m in labor.”

Bly’s brain stuttered to a halt. In labor? Aayla? Aayla kept talking in front of him, but he heard her words as if through water. Did this mean she was about to become a mother? Did this mean he was about to become a father?

“Bly! I need you to focus!” Aayla’s sharp voice cut through the haze.

“Yes sir!” Bly barked.

Aayla let out a weak chuckle and squeezed Bly’s hand. “I know this is strange, but we have to figure this out. We won’t have much time if we want her to have a good life.”

“Her?” Bly asked.

Aayla nodded towards the medic. “Kix says It’s a girl.”

“How have you been pregnant this whole time, and nobody ever noticed?” Bly asked.

“I suspected... But I was so busy, and it seemed impossible…” Aayla said.

“It helped that Twi’leks bear smaller children, and on top of that this one’s premature. It’s still pretty surprising that nobody realized, though. We can only hope that the child will be healthy,” Kix said.

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Bly that his child might be in danger, but as soon as the words left Kix’s mouth a fear he’d never before experienced took hold of his heart. How strange, that a being he hadn’t even known existed mere minutes earlier had such power over him already.

“I’m about to get to the hard part. I want you here with me,” Aayla said, her fingers tightening around Bly’s.

“Of course,” Bly said, kneeling by her side.

“The silver lining of such a premature birth is that labor will probably be relatively easy,” Kix said, moving down to Aayla’s feet and helping her get into position. “That being said, a lot can go wrong, and the General has requested that we bring no other medics in unless absolutely necessary. Be ready for anything.”

Bly held Aayla’s hand and offered her encouraging words while the 501st medic coached her through her pushes. He felt powerless to offer any real assistance, but Aayla seemed to take comfort in his presence, so he tried not to let his feelings of inadequacy show. Aayla was beautiful and fierce, her warrior spirit showing through in spite of the sweat and blood and roars of effort.

When the child finally came, Kix wiped the mess of childbirth off and handed her to Aayla, her tiny pale form shaking from the shock of her grand entrance into a new world.

She was gorgeous. She had wispy, blueish hair and tiny lekku nubs on the back of her head, and her delicate hands faded in color from a pale tan to a greyish blue. She cried and cried, but to Bly they were the miraculous sounds of a brand new body working, and he’d never heard something so melodious in his life.

“She’s so small…” Aayla whispered. “And pale.”

“She’s quite a bit smaller than the average Twi’lek newborn, but her vitals are good,” Kix said. “And newborns are always born looking pretty pale. She’ll get her color soon enough.”

Aayla held the little girl out to Bly, and he took her delicately in his hands, handling her like a live grenade about to explode. Her tiny face scrunched up and her cloudy grey eyes blinked open and closed as she turned her meandering gaze on the room, her eyes never quite focusing on anything. Bly held a finger out to her, and her tiny digits wrapped around his index finger, her grip surprisingly strong. Bly’s heart rose to his throat, and he didn’t know what to say.

“She’s perfect,” he choked out eventually, handing her back to Aayla.

Tears were coursing down Aayla’s cheeks. “She is,” Aayla said. And for five perfect minutes, they simply basked in that fact.

The little girl’s crying stopped, and she blindly snuggled into Aayla’s chest. Aayla looked up at Bly, the tears of joy in her eyes turning cold and full of regret. “And now we have to find a way to keep her safe.”

“She doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, but this ship doesn’t really have the facilities to care for a premature newborn,” Kix said.

“And if anyone finds out where she came from, I’d be decommissioned, you’d be kicked from the Order, and who knows what would happen to her,” Bly said.

“I have family on Hosnian Prime who will take her in,” Aayla said, arms cradling her child even as they talked about sending her away. “I can issue the order to Kix now, give him whatever authorization he needs. I’ll send them word and ask that they watch over her until the war is over.”

“Until the war is over…” Bly repeated. He’d only just met this child, but he might not see her again until the end of this seemingly endless war.

Aayla hugged the child to her tightly, and she started to cry a tiny, mewling cry. 

“We don’t have any other choice,” Aayla said.

“I know,” Bly said, resting his hand on Aayla’s shoulder. “But… we should enjoy what little time we have with her now. What should we name her?”

Aayla held the little girl out in front of her, careful to support her neck, and looked into her adorable, slightly-smooshed face. “How about Ayy? It means star.”

Bly smiled. “I love it.”

They had thirty minutes with her. That was all. Then they handed her to Kix, who’d made a makeshift bassinet for her that he could use to transport her without drawing too many questions. Kix left them in Aayla’s study, and Bly held Aayla as she lay crying in her med unit until she fell asleep.

He knew it was for the best, but it felt wrong on a deep, visceral level to be sending their child out there into the universe without anything to help guide her way. If Bly had held any reservations about leaving the GAR after the end of the war before, those reservations vanished with the birth of his child. Anything that kept him from being in his daughter’s life was not worth the sacrifice.

An idea occurred to Bly and he jumped up from the med unit, kissing Aayla on the forehead and murmuring to her that he’d be right back before leaving the office. He jogged down the halls of the Venator to the shuttle bay, where he knew Kix would be headed with the baby to catch the first available flight off the ship. Hopefully Bly would be able to catch him in time.

Kix was already halfway up the gangplank to the shuttle when Bly found him.

“Hey, Kix! Wait up!”

Kix looked back, his hands still carrying the piece of cargo that looked like a simple crate but actually held Bly’s newborn child.

“Yes sir?” he asked.

Bly fished around in his utility belt for something, an object he kept with him at all times. It would be hard to see it go, but he wanted Ayy to have some piece of her parents to keep with her, so she’d always know that they loved her. He found the small wooden cube and placed it in Kix’s hand.

“Will you give this to her? Or to her caretakers, to give to her?”

“I’ll see to it personally, sir,” Kix said.

He knew it wasn’t a good idea. It would look strange to anyone watching, and might bring up questions. But Bly didn’t care. He knelt down next to the crate Kix was carrying and set his hand on it, leaning forward to rest his forehead against its cold metal surface.

“Know that you’ll always be loved, Ayy.”

---

“After I left General Secura and Commander Bly, I went straight to your aunt and uncle on Hosnian Prime. They took you but they wouldn’t let you keep the cube. They said that to other Twi’leks, it would be obvious what it meant. It would be too incriminating,” Kix said, sitting next to Ayy on his narrow bunk aboard the Martinet.

She fingered the cube in her hand, silently studying its painted surface. It had rested, untouched, in the vacuum of space for most of its existence, so it didn’t show any of its fifty years’ wear.

“They were right. This was definitely meant for my mother’s kalikori,” she said.

“Kalikori?”

“You know, the figure on my desk? It’s a wooden totem that Twi’lek families keep. A sort of genealogical record.”

“Ah,” Kix said, remembering. “Well I’m glad I could finally return it to you. I’m sorry it took so long.”

Ayy’s fingers curled around the cube, and her expression hardened. “Brain chip or no, if he loved us how could he have killed her?”

Kix pursed his lips. This was the hard part. How could anyone who hadn’t experienced Order 66 themselves truly understand? How could Ayy come to know the intentions of her long-dead father’s heart?

“You know that we were manufactured, right?” he said eventually.

“Yes… On a planet called Kamino.”

“That’s right. The Kaminoans created us to be the perfect soldiers. They tweaked our DNA, gave us specialized training, and even included a sort of failsafe. A chip in our brains that, when called on, could override our individual agency and force us to follow certain commands.

“I’ve read accounts from fellow troopers who were part of the destruction of the Jedi Order. It was an impulse that was impossible to overpower, completely inescapable. And afterwards, most troopers didn’t even realize what they’d done. Only a very few were able to break free, years later.

“I know it might be hard to believe but… I don’t want you to have to go through life believing your father willingly killed your mother. None of us had a choice. None of us ever had a choice, really.”

The sound of laughter coming from the mess of the Martinet penetrated their quiet bubble, and Ayy closed her fingers around the small cube and shut her eyes. She bowed her head, and for a moment Kix wondered if she was meditating, or praying, or somehow trying to commune with her departed parents. He wondered if it was working.

“Did you keep the chip after you had it removed?” she asked eventually, eyes still closed.

“Yes, in storage in the medbay. You can examine it, if you like.”

“I would like that.”

She leaned back against the cold metal wall of the ship and folded her arms, her eyes distant and contemplative.

“What were my parents like?” she asked. “My uncle and aunt didn’t really know my mother very well, and they didn’t know anything about Commander Bly.”

“I didn’t know them as well as I knew the people in my battalion, but from what I saw, General Secura was very disciplined and dedicated to the Jedi Order. She understood the sacrifices required of war, and prioritized the mission over individuals, including herself. Bly was the same, and he was also extremely loyal to General Secura. To be honest, I was shocked that they were involved. They were alike in a lot of ways—the last two people I would have suspected of breaking any rules for personal reasons.”

“Really?” Ayy asked, eyes alight with curiosity.

“Yeah. When I was helping with your delivery, and I realized that Bly was the father?” Kix shook his head at the memory. “Well I guess it’s just a testament to how much they loved each other.”

“Perhaps....”

She held the cube up to her face, examining it carefully with her golden-brown eyes. It was amazing how much things could change. He’d seen her as a brand new infant, only minutes old, with eyes a cloudy grey and skull still soft and malleable. There was something gratifying about having seen her then and now witnessing the woman she had become.

“Why is your name Bosc?” Kix asked. “If you’d gone by Secura I would have realized much sooner who you are.”

“My uncle and aunt’s cover story for me was that I was a distant cousin. They were trying to protect my mother, trying to prevent anyone from realizing who she was. And then after she died they heard rumors that the Empire was hunting down anyone related to the Jedi, so they kept it a secret.”

“And they were the ones who told you about your mother and father?”

“They heard about her death, but it wasn’t until later that they found out it was my father who’d pulled the trigger. When I was older, I looked up his service record. I thought I might find something to help me understand. Or I thought I might find that there was a mistake—that it was someone else who’d actually killed her.”

“Did it help?” Kix asked.

“Not really. He was a model soldier, even more decorated after the fall of the Republic than before...” she trailed off, her eyes going distant as she stared into the wall opposite Kix’s bunk. 

Then her brows furrowed, and she grabbed Kix’s arm in a vice like grip. “You know what he did after the war?”

“...What?” Kix asked.

“‘Above and beyond the call of duty,’ it said. ‘Exceptional bravery,’ it said. He was killed in combat not very long after my mother, rushing an enemy’s fortified position without backup.”

A terrible sense of dread built in Kix’s chest as he realized what Ayy was suggesting, what his brother might have been driven to by the dissonance between the screaming of his heart and the chip in his brain.

“The man I knew wouldn’t have been able to stomach how the war ended, even if his mind wasn’t his own,” he admitted, his gut tying in a knot of mourning that resurfaced any time he stopped working long enough to think about his lost brothers.

Ayy’s grip on Kix’s arm tightened until her nails dug into his skin, and her jaw clenched and unclenched as an understanding of who her father was and what he had done slowly dawned on her. She bit her lip, and a single tear slid down the bridge of her nose—a strong, arched nose that could have been copied right off her father’s face. Kix thought of how the older cadets had comforted him each time he’d failed in training, and he reached the arm she wasn’t holding over to her and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

The dam broke, and Ayy collapsed onto Kix’s shoulder, her sobs quiet but powerful. The physicality of it all was unfamiliar to Kix, but he wrapped his arms around her and held on tight, hoping that his simple proximity might help in some measure.

As his brother’s daughter cried in his arms, Kix noticed something strange. The knot in his stomach, the twisted coil of sorrow and regret and thousands of lost faces, slowly began to ease. The coils loosened and some pieces even slipped free, and he realized that Ayy Secura was perhaps the only person left in the galaxy who might mourn as deeply as he for his lost brothers.

“It’s not fair,” Ayy said, her voice hoarse from her tears.

Kix nearly barked in gruesome laughter at how well she’d summed up the past several years of his waking life. “No, it’s not.”

He pulled back from her, holding her shoulders so she could look him in the eye. “But they have some small scrap of justice, now. Something I think would make them happy.”

“What?” Ayy asked, wiping at her eyes and looking to Kix for guidance as if she wasn’t almost thirty years’ his senior.

“You know that they both loved you. You know where you come from.”

The corner of Ayy’s mouth turned up into a smirk that Kix had seen a thousand times on the faces of his brothers, though the skin of her lips had a distinct blue tinge to it.

“In the GAR we used to always say we were brothers. Same heart, same blood. You’re part of that brotherhood now, Ayy. So long as you want to be. Always.”

Ayy’s smirk turned into a full blown smile, and she wiped at her eyes again. “I’m glad your ship blew up over my planet.”

Kix laughed, though the more he thought about it he had to agree with her. Before coming to Felucia he’d begun to doubt that there was anything of importance left for him to do in the galaxy. Now he realized his brothers had left behind a great work for him to continue, and a legacy to protect.

That night he walked Ayy back to the clinic, and they talked about everything Kix remembered about Bly and Aayla as they strolled through the humid night air. When Kix ran out of things specific to her parents, he told her about the GAR, about his brothers and the Jedi who commanded them, about their camaraderie, skill, and passion.

When they reached the clinic, Kix lingered a long while. He didn’t know how good his odds of coming back to Felucia were, and it was hard to say goodbye to the person who felt like the last vestiges of his old life in the galaxy. In the end he didn’t have to say goodbye, because Ayy invited him in to help her with something important.

Kix followed Ayy to the corner of the clinic, unsure what to expect, but Ayy’s intentions became clear when she reached for the kalikori still standing watch from her desk. She pulled the wooden cube Kix had given her out of her pocket, and skillfully inserted it into an empty link in the chain of one branch.

“I used to have a fake one here, for the people who were supposed to be my parents,” Ayy explained as she worked. “But once I decided nobody cared who I was I took it out. It felt wrong.”

She stepped back and revealed the updated kalikori, the blue-and-yellow cube hanging between an intricately carved unpainted block and another block below it with symbols Kix recognized as both traditionally Twi’lek and Human. The kalikori was complete, the gap in her family tree filled.

“Thank you, Kix. I hope our paths cross again,” Ayy said.

“Me too.”

The next day as Felucia disappeared in the rear window of the Meson Martinet, Kix’s thoughts turned to the future for the first time since he’d awoken. He was ready to move forward now, doing what he always did. Healing.

Epilogue

Kix hadn’t meant to join another army, but somehow or other his wanderings brought him into the Resistance. He no longer fought, instead spending his days in the Resistance base’s medbay on D’Qar treating freedom fighters and researching improved procedures for restoration.

He never found out how she found his holonet address, but one day he received a message from a far-away friend on Felucia.

Dear Kix,

I realize that I never apologized for how I treated you, and I’d like to do so now. You’ve made my family whole. You’ve helped me be proud of myself and where I came from—both halves. In many ways you’ve given me back my parents. I wish you well in all you do, and know that you will always have a place here if your journey ever takes you back to Felucia. I am proud to have an uncle like you.

With my whole heart,

Ayy Secura

#swsecretsanta2020 #star wars #the clone wars #fanfic #tcw #kix #blyla #aayla secura #commander bly #holy crap this is a long one-shot #i honestly love this story so i hope you love it too

[gabriel4sam]

Old wars, old regrets and new beginnings

Master Windu and Master Gallia are not very happy about Qui-Gon's decision to leave Obi-Wan on Melida/Daan. The logical answer is to go back for the lost Padawan. And since they're at it, there are a few things which had gone for way too long, like the Melida/Daan civil war....or denying their feelings.

Under the cut, a little Alternate Universe of one of the Jedi Apprentice books, that mess with Melida/Daan

Once upon a time, there was a young Jedi Initiate with dimples, red hair and a temper which needed work. And Mace Windu wanted him, so, so hard for a Padawan. He wanted to help him grow, he wanted to be there to show him how to open to the Unifying Force, in which the two of them were gifted. Sadly, Master Windu had been used to listening to Yoda more than his own instinctual trust in the Force, like entire generations of Jedi.

Yoda meant well.

But his age and his experience didn’t make him never-failing.

So, Mace Windu let go of his yearning to teach Obi-Wan, hoping he would see the young child flourish under Qui-Gon’s tutelage. For a time, a too short time, it seemed Yoda had been right.

Then Qui-Gon Jinnn came back from Melida/Daan with Tahl, and no Padawan and Mace Windu came under fire from the Remedial Council for putting the other Jedi Master on his ass, right on the tarmac, as Qui-Gon still was covered in Melida/Daan’s dust.

“Did you see that!?” Qui-Gon had said, as Master Mundi had helped him to his feet.

“Yes, it was really a shame he was quicker than me,” Mundi had dryly remarked and Qui-Gon had wisely decided to shut up, because all the welcoming committee was watching him with angry eyes.

Roughly an hour later, Mace was plotting his way to Melida/Daan on a ship borrowed from Master Tholme, because he knew what sorts of ameliorations the man put on any ships he had more than ten minutes on, when Master Gallia found him.

“Tahl is in the healers’s hands. She will live, but we don’t know more for now. Also apparently, you loosened one of Qui-Gon’s teeth.” She announced.

“Good,” Mace said, without looking at her.

“It will certainly cost you your place on the Council.”

“Then I can go back on missions instead of having to handle the Senate.”

The computer beeped to signal it was working on its course and Mace finally turned to his friend….to realize she had her pack on her back, her travel cape and that Siri Tachi, her Padawan, was busy stacking medical packs everywhere she could fix them, helped by Master Tholme, his Padawan, and what seemed to be all the Jedi they could have on hand in the short time Mace had needed to start prepping the ship.

“What, did you think you would be going alone?” Adi Gallia said, with that tone of her which make people fall in line and obey her as if she was the Force itself.

“This is an unauthorized mission,” Mace observed despite himself.

“I know.”

“I will be in even worse trouble than for attacking Jinn.”

“I know.”

“And everyone who helps me-“

“Mace!”

She put a hand on his shoulder.

“Obi-Wan is one of our children. We’re going to get him back. And all the Council, or at least myself, is only jealous you were the first to put your hands on Qui-Gon.”

“Not very Jedi of you, Master Gallia.”

“Master Windu, I have a secret for you, Jedi are way more feral than we let the Senate believe.”

Mace couldn’t handle eye contact this instant, he turned his head, but Adi only put her other hand on his other shoulder, in a sign of comfort, instead of forcing the issue, like most sentient would have, even a few Jedi.

It took three days to travel from Coruscant to Melida/Daan, three days they spend asking themselves if the Order had lost another child. Padawans died, sometimes, but every child who joined the Force seemed to Mace and Adi, sitting on the Council, choosing Jedi for missions, like a personal failure.

During those three days, they spent most of their time in meditation. Who knew what they would find in arriving, better to immerge themselves in the Force all they could, to prepare themselves for battle, for heartbreak. Siri had been quite displeased to be left behind, but it was necessary. The Jedi Order already had abandoned one child in a war zone, they wouldn’t risk another.

“I’m happy you’re coming with me,” Mace had admitted on the second day, “You, my oldest friend. Perhaps I’m selfish, but if I must be expulsed from the Order and tried as a war criminal, there is nobody else I would be right beside.” And Adi had snorted on a laugh and bumped their shoulders amicably.  

*********************************************************

Obi-Wan was exhausted. His training had always been oriented by Qui-Gon’s own specialities, so his healing training was a lot behind his friend Bant, for example. But the Young hadn’t had any medics in their ranks at his arrival: this was something who required long training, disqualifying people possessing it for their ranks.

So, Obi-Wan has done his best to help, counterbalancing his lack of formal training in Force Healing by taping harder in his own strength, siphoning his own strength to heal the Youngs and their adult prisoners when they had some. . Between that and the tactical advises he gave, and the way the Force made him a valuable asset to the Youngs in their plotting to stop the war, as an undetected spy or as a saboteur, it was not exactly surprising he was a little frayed…. Sometimes he even thought he was a rope ready to snap.

So, when he saw Master Windu and Master Gallia, for a moment he thought he was hallucinating.

For a long, long moment.

In fact, it wasn’t before hours later when he woke up from a surprising refreshing sleep with his head on Master Windu’s knees, the Master’s big hands a comforting, warm weigh on his back, than he realized they were really there. He would later suspect this suspiciously deep sleep had been helped by a little push in the Force from the two Masters. Two members of the High Council had broken all the rules in coming to his rescue on a world where they definitely weren’t supposed to be.

“I’m not a Jedi anymore!” He had thrown to them, oscillating between despair, anger and panic for the two adults Jedi. He knew enough of the Republic laws to understand there would be consequence for them.

A lot.

And for him! Him who wasn’t a Jedi anymore, who had never been worthy of the name, if Obi-Wan listened to the little voice in his head, the voice sounding very much like Qui-Gon on his bad days.

“I’m not a Jedi anymore,” he repeated, broken.

“If you don’t want to be a Jedi anymore, you’re not,” Master Gallia said, “We don’t force people to serve. But you’re a child of the Jedi and we don’t abandon our own.”

“So, now, you will be punished because of me, in a war without end,” Obi-Wan had despaired.

The two Masters had looked at each other, doing this thing Obi-Wan had observed between Jedi who had worked closely together before. It was like its own language, told in a few milliseconds and micro expressions.

“We should really take Obi-Wan and go,” Master Windu said and the teenager hadn’t time to protest before the Korrun was adding:

“On the other hands, we’ll already been punished. What could they do, expulse us two times.”

“Also, it would be a waste of resource, two members of the High Council on this planet-“

“Are we still?”

“Well, I consider I am until I receive notifications of what the hell they will do to us after….So, as I said, the two of us and nothing to see for it….bad press for the Jedi.”

She gave Master Windu a smile which Obi-Wan had vague ideas he shouldn’t have seen, even if he had difficulties putting his finger on the why….They turned to him on perfect ensemble and he felt a ping of pain on his chest. He had been so sure he was made to become a Jedi and now he would never have this perfect coordination with another Knight, perhaps another Master, like he had dreamed on younger.

Obi-Wan looked down at his hands, dirty and scrapped, thinking hard.“I….I suppose I will present you to the Youngs,” He said.

 Cerasi immediately adored Master Galia but Nield was much more cautious of this help arriving from nowhere.

“They’re adults, we can’t trust them,” he insisted to Obi-Wan and Cerasi and Obi-Wan spluttered, peeved by this accusation to members of the High Council.

“If they are so good,” Nield would grumble after a plan hatched by Master Gallia worked without trouble; “Why is the galaxy in such a sorry state?”

“Sometimes, I forgot you have never left Melida/Daan,” Obi-Wan said, looking at him.

“What does that mean?”

“The galaxy is big.”

“Hmpff,” Nield said and for once Cerasi seemed of the same opinion. Obi-Wan started to explain, trying to convene everything he had seen since leaving the Temple for the first time:

“Yes, it seems idiotic said like this, doesn’t it? But it’s just so so enormous, there aren’t words for it. And every planets, or almost all planets, are populated, by species born there or by colonisation. And it’s not even starting on the people living on moons, on space stations, in ships… The world is big and there isn’t enough Jedi, more planets don’t see one more than every generation.”

His mood turned darker.

“There never was enough Jedi but they taught us, it’s getting worse. People don’t let their children be chosen anymore, they don’t see why other children’s people can’t do it, and since the Senate reduced the help we receive from Judicials, more Jedi have been killed in action.”

“And yet, you still left them.”

Obi-Wan turned, ashamed, but Nield didn’t let him go, slipping an arm around his waist.

“I didn’t meant it like that. I am…I’m more than honoured than you choose our cause, even with how important the Jedi Order is for you.”

“We,” Cerasi said, “We’re very grateful.” And she embraced the two of them, so close it was difficult to know where which teenager started and where the other ended, and they stayed like that a long time, taking comfort in each other’s warmth and presence.

Without realizing the two Jedi had been there too and where discreetly leaving.

“Ah, young love,” Master Gallia sighed with a smile.

“Do you think….the three of them?” Master Windu said, so surprised he almost missed a step on the ravaged pavement.

“More daring than we were, aren’t they?”

“I always regretted it, you know.”

She stopped walking, looked at him.

“I always asked myself what would have happened this night, if …if I had asked you to share your bunk in this ship, instead of stopping at a few kisses and spending the night next to the Bacta tub of my Master.”

“I would have said yes,” Adi admitted. With a cautious hand, she touched his cheek. The stubble hadn’t been there, the first time she had done that, all those years ago, when they were themselves no more than Padawan.

“I think through the years, I would always had said yes,” she continued, lost in the incredible warmth of Mace’s eyes.

“You already took terrible risks in following me to this world…”

“Oh please, it’s you who followed me!”

Mace had a small laugh, which died against his older friend’s lips.

#jedi apprentice #star wars #mace windu #adi gallia #obi wan kenobi #my fics

[nimsajlove]

The new ones

Brothers-AU  Ao3

Hug resisted the urge to tap nervously with one foot. He had trained so hard to get this under control! Crick next to him suppressed a smile every time he looked over at him, the two had only known each other for a few hours. "Welcome home.", the pilot called from the front and the two shinys felt how they were leaving hyperspace and looked curiously through the cockpit outside. In front of them lay the cruiser, quiet and sublime.

"General! The shuttle just left hyperspace.” Ahsoka nodded and climbed off the fighter she was working on, some of the skills Anakin Skywalker had taught her were really useful! And it had its own charm when you could patch the ships back together yourself. She was just putting the tools together a little and was still looking around for her jedi robe when Rex came into the hangar and pressed a rag into her hands. "Ah, thank you.", she smiled and wiped her hands clean, her brown robe lay over his arm and she took it with clean fingers. "It was still on the bridge.", the clone smiled and a little confused, the young Jedi pushed the toolbox closer to the fighter. "Yet again? I'm sorry.” She really was sorry, she had rarely worn her robe during the beginning of the war and since she tried to at least have it with her, she left it everywhere and looked for it practically all the time. Usually it was Rex or Jesse who then picked it up and brought it to her. Rex was about to reply, when the hangar opened and the shuttle floated inside. Immediately his eyebrows drew together. "Do you really think it's a good idea, to bring these kids in here?", he muttered and Ahsoka shrugged her shoulders a little, he was kinda right. Somehow she would have to explain the story with the chips to the two new clones, and she had no idea how! Still, it was good that they were here. She had spent many years with her brothers and at some point picked up the one or other story. Of accidents, victories, losses and cadets who disappeared. The men weren't stupid, and neither was she. “Shaak Ti thinks they would fit in well. Give them a chance!", she encouraged him and pushed her shoulder against his, grinning even that she didn't really feel like laughing, that she swallowed quickly. She had read the reports about the two new clones and Master Shaak Ti was right, the two men were better off with her than in the great mass of the other battalions.

A small favor, requested from Plo Koon, had been enough to sort out clones in Kamino for them that did not quite meet the standard. That only suited her, the clones who had already had to fight their way through on Kamino had mostly proven to be extremely clever and she loved to see how the individual personalities blossomed. The shuttle shut down the drive and fell silent, then the ramp came down and at first the pilots came towards her. "General.", greeted one of the two and she returned the greeting. The other glanced at the fighter instead and shook his head. "You can't fix that anymore." Ahsoka raised her eyebrows and grinned, arms crossed over her chest and with a challenging look, with that she looked much younger than she was and not like a Jedi at all. "Give me 5 hours.", she challenged him snippily and he laughed. "Good, one more dessert for me.", he laughed and nodded to her again before hurrying after his brother. Ahsoka was happy, most of the men had known her for a long time and it was good to just be treated like everyone else from time to time. When she turned her gaze to the front again, the two shinys had already got out and were standing near the shuttle, unsure of where to go without a supervisor. Immediately she came over to them, Rex right behind her and still thoughtful. She had already internalized the names, Hug had a fine burn scar on his chin. After years of dealing with the clones, Ahsoka couldn't miss it!

 Hug saw the two figures as soon as they started moving. Suddenly his nervousness reached a new high and his fingertips were tapping restlessly on the helmet under his arm. Crick rolled his eyes but remained silent. However, he too seemed tense. Except for the jedi master Shaak Ti, they didn't knew any of the generals, but the clone in front of them was nothing new to them. Anyone who had ever caught a glimpse of the reports on the 501st remembered the captain. There was only one thing, this wasn't the battalion in blue... Only at second glance did Hug understand, that the rich bronze reflected the skin of the Togruta in front of them. "Crick and Hug, right?", asked the young woman, almost still a girl, and smiled openly. Both nodded. "Yes Sir.", they answered and the two superiors exchanged a quick look, Hug didn't knew exactly what it was but they seemed to agree on something, because the captain nodded and disappeared. The new general stayed behind. "I'm Ahsoka Tano, I hope Master Ti didn't tear you out of somewhere.", the slim figure smiled and turned her full attention back to them, her face slightly contracted in concern. Hug's fingers tingled, it was more than uncomfortable to stand so still. Crick glanced over at him briefly and took over speaking, Hug didn't knew if it would do any better. "No Sir, we are happy to be with you.", he explained and General Tano's face suddenly lit up, making her look even younger in an incredible way. "Good, the 332nd is happy to have you." Although the words were warm, the realization made Hug cold. He hadn't heard of Ahsoka Tano yet, but the older clones in Kamino, who were in regular contact with their brothers at the front, spoke of the 332nd very often in the last few months. Nothing particularly bad, but little good either.

“Come on, I'll show you where you're staying. It's important to know your home well.”, the Jedi smiled, then she led the way and they followed her out of the hangar. Apparently the cruisers were no less busy than Kamino, soldiers were everywhere in the corridors and greeted their general. It just wasn't really like they where supposed to do with the way they laughed, nodded or patted the woman on the back. Woman? Girl? Hug couldn't really make up his mind, the Jedi was a little smaller than the clones, but not that small either! The wide robe obscured her figure and Hug did not yet know exactly, what to think of such a young leader. When they passed the canteen and General Tano gave them a brief overview, he caught his fingers again as they nervously drummed on his helmet and forced them to remain still. His mind was so focused on the things he'd heard about the 332nd that he couldn't keep a word from the general. That started well! Only at the quarters did he get a grip on himself and listened a little more closely. "Home sweet home.", she smiled and instructed the two men to go ahead. All berths appeared occupied, except for the last two in the back. As the two men went to their bunks, the general suddenly bent down and sighed and picked up something, a helmet. Shaking her head, she laid it on a bunk by the door, the small smile on her lips made no sense! Leave a helmet on the floor, nobody smiled about it on Kamino!

She looked up and met his confused gaze before he could lower it. "Don't blame Mad.", she said and just sat on the floor between Cricks and Hug's bunks. Jedi, a general, on the floor... Crick gave him a doubtful look, good. Then at least he wasn't the only one.

"Do you two still have questions?", she asked and seemed to lean back, relaxed, supporting herself on her hands. Hug hesitated; his strange questions were never well received! Crick seemed to have less inhibitions and started. "Captain Rex is no longer with the 501st?" Hug rolled his eyes, of course that was Crick's biggest concern! General Tano let out her breath in amusement, but didn't seem surprised. “No, he was so free to join my command. Which I really appreciate!“, she emphasized and Crick sank into thought, now Hug would probably have to ask his questions himself. "Don't worry Hug, just ask.", she suddenly demanded and Hug looked up, was he that obvious? "Your head is quite loud.", she grinned and it looked so oddly out of place compared to General Ti. "I heard things on Kamino..." He broke off when the Jedi's face darkened and she straightened up again, arms crossed over her chest and eyes directed downwards. "Of course you heard things...", she muttered and looked up again, she seemed more sad than angry. "Go on.", she asked when Hug hesitated further. The request loosened his tongue again, even if he would mess it up with his general on the first day. “Well, some of the men said the 332nd would be a bad deal. A unit for those who can no longer fight. Who is too weak, ends up here.", he confessed to her the rumors that wandered among the clones on Kamino. Ahsoka Tano's face didn't relax, but she tried a smile. “I can guess where that came from. What is the best place to start for you... We'll fight like any battalion. I have brought in very capable and experienced men, each of whom is able to fight a battle without me. Unfortunately, I don't like to hang around the back and just hand out commands. I also take care of my men, but I don't want puppets that never say anything. The rumors probably broke out after the trouble with Fives.", she mumbled softly and Hug perked up. He'd heard the name a couple of times. "The traitor who defied General Ti?", Crick asked, Hug was glad that the other clone had quickly made the right connection too. His stomach felt queasy when General Tano nodded. “Yes, I brought Fives over here. He's saved my life time and time again, so it's only fair if I do the same for him. He's part of the family.“, she explained openly and there was a deep passion in her voice, Hug believed her every word. Though Shaak Ti had never spoken of the clones like that. For a moment everyone was quiet, Crick seemed to weigh the general's words and Hug tried to rearrange his thoughts. "But officially he is defective.", he followed up, General Tano nodded and now her face no longer looked sad. She seemed angry, he immediately closed his mouth again. But when she spoke there was so much calm in her voice that the contrast to her gaze was almost painful. “Yes, it was rated that way on Kamino and in the Senate. I judge differently. Droids have defects, living things don't.” Something in Hug's head finally snapped into the empty space, the question of why he had been sent here. “We weren't just divided up. You requested us?", he asked carefully and her face smoothed again, she nodded. “Yes, Master Shaak Ti shares part of my view and thought that you have a better chance here. Without someone to report every little thing.” Now she smiled again and seemed very pleased with herself.

 Crick scratched his neck, so was it a collection of faulty soldiers? He knew that it had not been easy for him and Hug on Kamino, he learned this pretty fast about the other. Hug could never sit still, his fingers were constantly moving! Even now he could see it out of the corner of his eye. Himself... numbers just didn't made sense to him! Without one of his brothers he would not have survived longer than the age of 4 or 5, he knew exactly how sorting out worked on Kamino, especially at a young age. "And what faults do the others have here?", he snapped, briefly forgetting that the girl in front of him was his new general. He wanted to take the words back immediately, but she seemed to be thinking seriously. “Nobody here has faults, after all, each of the men is very good at what he does. Hevy has a hard time holding back his strength, but that's okay. Mad leaves everything scattered around, but never in his life would he simply forget something important. And Tilt…” She nodded to a bunk in the upper row, a datapad was there. “He's got a bet with Kix, who'll get the stupidest injury during the week. But hey, that's how they both are.” A gentle smile made her face shine and Crick wondered briefly what she had seen to enjoy this simple life so much. "Then why are we here?", Hug asked and Crick nodded. All the men here were experienced, what did the general want with two newcomers now? Because he had to give her one thing, her casualty figures were among the lowest in the last few battles. “Hug, stop cramping your fingers like that. That makes me nervous.", was her first answer and Crick swung his head around, in fact Hug had clasped his helmet unnecessarily tight and now loosened his grip, immediately his fingers returned to the soft clatter on the helmet and the clone looked everything else than happy about it. "Hey, it's okay. I know that Master Shaak Ti noticed that you have problems with all the sitting and standing still. But I heard that you didn't make a single mistake deciphering codes. I think it's good, I can use someone who can concentrate on one thing that way.", she smiled and Hug visibly breathed a sigh of relief, Crick wondered what he was worried about.

“And that you, Crick, can't read anything out of the whole tangle of numbers is okay too, there is a reason why I avoid decoding. I can't, so I prefer to leave it. But! I saw how well you did with the whole mess of cables!” The first praise in what felt like an eternity caused a warm feeling in his chest, suddenly it didn't matter how young the general in front of him was! She had seen what he could do!

 Hug was infinitely relieved that there was someone who didn’t ask him to sit quietly! He and Crick just smiled briefly at each other, until a fine squeak was audible. General Tanos comlink. "Sir, I need to get Hevy and Cutup to the medbay. They tried Hardcase's special stunt.", came an unfamiliar voice, but it seemed familiar to the general and she froze for a moment before grimacing. "Of course they have..." Then she hesitated and rubbed her face once, Hug put the expression somewhere between tired and restless. "How long has it been since the shuttle arrived?", she then asked and now the other clone laughed. Hug was not quite sure how one could laugh so openly at his general, but he thought he was slowly understanding. "It’s about the bet with Gut, right? Good luck, you still have exactly three hours.” Cursing and laughing at the same time, the girl got to her feet and cut the connection. Then she grinned. "Come with me."

It was harder than expected to quickly follow a Jedi down the hallways. How was he supposed to keep pace in a battle? They way led them back to the hangar, now that he already knew it, the fighter, not from the republic, could not be overlooked. “We picked something up and it would be a shame to just let it rot. Besides, the data is encrypted, so it can only be interesting.” While she spoke, she took off the wide robe and simply hung it over one of the wings of the ship. Hug had to smile. Then a datapad was shoved into his hands. She crawled onto the ship and put her hands in one of the open flaps. Crick stood next to him, a little surprised. "Come on, we don't have much time left to save my dessert.", the girl grinned down at the two of them and for the first time in his life, Hug had the feeling that he belonged.

#star wars #clone wars #ahsoka tano #clone ocs #brothers-au #clone trooper hug oc #clone trooper crick oc

[greenygreenland]

Wannabe Chap 13: Star Wars x Reader

-we are so close to blowing that space station out of the galaxy -let's get this b r e a d -okay, so like, I get sound doesn't travel in space, but this is Star Wars -this is the longest chapter I've made so far (roughly 3,611 words, or 9.1 pages long) PREVIOUS CHAPTER

'𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐨...' -𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐈'𝐦 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐨

CHAPTER 12 <-- here

The buzzing energy was the first thing (Y/n) sensed in the rusty hanger of the base. Pilots and mechanics rushed about, shoving carts into storage rooms or tweaking X-wings in the remaining half hour before lift-off. (Y/n) awkwardly stood in the midst of the Rebels, rubbing her arm and fiddling with her sleeves. She fit right in, yet didn't at the same time. Internally, she knew this wasn't the place for a Jedi, but her mind told her this was the environment she grew in. Jedi weren't supposed to get involved in wars, that was all she knew as a padawan. She grew up around clones, learnt their ways and spoke a bit like them, and became a 'saint' of Kamino. 

(Y/n) shook her head uncertainly and made her way over to Han's ship. It fumed with smoke as sparks flew from the control panels, but besides that, the hunk of junk looks to be doing well. "Han," she greeted. "You are leaving?" He pushed a cart towards Chewie with a dismissive roll of his eyes. "Yeah, you here to stop me like Luke?" 

"Stop you?" (Y/n) shook her head with a short sigh. "If that is your choice, I cannot say I can change it." Han paused and eyed (Y/n)'s bright orange suit. He looked like he wanted to say something deep, but it came out as, "Orange doesn't suit you." (Y/n) chuckled a little to keep the mood light. She raised an arm, grimacing at the plastoid material. "I know, it makes me look like a can of spray paint." Han pursed his lips together, briefly turning to Chewie and motioning for him to push the crates onto the ship. "You know, I thought Jedi were legends until I met you."

(Y/n) blinked in disbelief. "Is that...is that so?" Han nodded. "Guess the Empire has a fad for brainwashing the people. Take care of yourself, Space Wizard. It'd be a shame for you to die out there." 

"I do not plan on doing so. I have unfinished business that cannot wait." Han nodded in understanding. "Well don't go around getting yourself killed. Take care, alright?" (Y/n) smiled warmly. "Same to you, Han, Chewie." She waved them goodbye, turning on her heel and making her way across the hanger. Once she set eyes on her dingy X-wing, she wasn't sure if it would hold up in a space battle. It was quite rusty and needed a good touch-up on paint. "It doesn't look like an 'x'." she mumbled to herself. 

"(Y/n)!" 

She whipped around, catching sight of Luke as he sprinted over with a bright grin. A familiar R2 unit followed behind, sprouting bleeps and bloops too fast for (Y/n) to understand. "Luke," she greeted. "I was not expecting to see you." He smiled, stopping in front of her as R2 pulled up behind. She didn't need anyone to tell her that her face had lit up like a star, the corners of her lips were already pulling into a grin. Even though she had seen him a week and a half ago, it felt like forever since she'd actually gotten to talk to the droid. "Someone told me I've been switched onto your team." he said. "Oh, and R2 wanted to say hi. He told me he knows you." (Y/n) bent down with a smile. "Hello there, buddy. How have you been?"

"Beep boo-boo-beep!"

She patted his head affectionately. "That's wonderful to hear." Luke smiled fondly before casting a glance to the X-wing. He raised his brow teasingly and said, "You sure you can handle this X-wing?" (Y/n) nodded, a smirk painting over her grin. "Of course. I was taught how to fly by the best pilot in the galaxy."

"The best pilot in the galaxy?" he echoed. (Y/n) patted his shoulder just as Anakin did to her when they were joking around. "Your father." She Force-jumped into the cockpit as Luke gasped and blabbered out gibberish. "You--how--my father--he was the best pilot in the galaxy?"

The smirk didn't leave (Y/n)'s lips as she added, "I also reviewed all protocols needed for today's mission. I appreciate your concern, but I am sure I am as up-to-date as possible." He composed himself with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head. "Oh I see. Uh, may the Force be with you then!" (Y/n) pulled on her helmet. "Likewise. Now, I suggest you go before you are left behind." Luke paused. "What do you--" He did a double-take around the hanger, awing at the X-wings zooming through the hanger's front doors. He made a mad run back to his starfighter with an 'oh shoot' as R2 teased him for being so careless. (Y/n) may have snorted, but she'd never admit that. She turned to her control panels and flicked a few buttons, quickly fastening herself in. The cockpit closed with a satisfying 'click' as the engines gave a healthy rev. 

Perhaps this X-wing was worth more than she initially thought. Her mic went off, her group's leader chiming in for everyone to lift off. As she pushed the lever forward and eased her X-wing through the hanger and into the skies, she realised how much she missed all the colour of the world. Compared to all the gray and white of Kamino or the industrialised cities of Coruscant, all the green was a breath of fresh air. She forgot how much of there was in the galaxy after being cooped up in the clone facility for so long. 

(Y/n) heaved in a deep breath that was as still as the air in Kamino. She loved soaring through the skies, but it just didn't feel the same without her men. There was no chatter from Vaughn complaining about how high off the ground they were, no scolding from Vaughn, or no arguments between the youngest boys Nimbus, Sapnap, and Grav. Clay, one of the oldest, wasn't yelling at the boys, and Icee wasn't making any snarky jokes about the mission while the middle boys, Halo, George, and Storm, weren't teasing (Y/n) about Fives.

The line was completely dead, and that made (Y/n) uncomfortable. Her squad was never quiet, but that was the beauty of them. They balanced out (Y/n)'s dry personality with joy and laughter that she knew couldn't be achieved without their help.

The group broke out of Yavin's atmosphere and into the darkness of space. As (Y/n) navigated by the side of her team, it was as if she were on autopilot. She couldn't seem to focus, and maybe she didn't want to. She was alone in this wide galaxy of different places and planets, so even after this mission was completed, what should she do? Was it okay if she continued on as a Rebel? (Y/n) kept her grip tight on the steering. There was a disturbance in the Force that sent ripples of worry into her heart. Something was going to happen, but she couldn't figure out what.

She was alone. She didn't know what to do.

The galaxy spun as she placed a hand to her helmet, and it continued moving, swaying from side to side like it was doing the Cha-cha. 

"Red Four, you're veering off course."

Someone was coming and (Y/n) knew exactly who it was. He was behind her and the last of the squad, racing towards her like two opposite ends of a magnet.

"Red Four, do you copy?"

(Y/n)'s breath hitched and she frantically steered her X-wing back into the fray. "Someone is coming," she grimly said, "break forma--" The starfighter behind suddenly exploded into fiery bits of floating durasteel. (Y/n) placed her hand on a lever and sped towards the space station. She couldn't remember how many groups had gone before hers and failed, but that didn't matter. She didn't have time to think about the risks she took as she eased her starfighter towards the thin lane leading to the main reactor. A group of TIE fighters emerged from the space station, shooting up her squad into nothing but ash and loose durasteel. 

(Y/n) heaved in a short breath and said, "Red Four, I am heading in." 

"Red Five, I'm heading in too." 

She sent a nod to Luke as she steered out of the way of the TIE fighter. The wreckage was like an obstacle course of dead bodies and X-wings. The graphic scenes sent chills down her spine as she continued on. No matter how many times she'd seen dead people, it was always hard to look away. Those people probably had families and friends waiting for them back at home, she didn't want to imagine how terrible their reactions would be. "We have only a single shot," she quietly said, "so beware of the TIE fighter behind." 

"Copy that Red Four." 

(Y/n) navigated through the little space she could in the shaft, avoiding the blasts of the towers and floating debris that might as well cause her early demise. Luke tailed (Y/n) from behind, staying close enough to brush her starfighter. He veered left and right, shouting, "He's hot on my tail--I'm not sure I'm gonna make it!" He paused with a loud gasp. "I've been hit!" (Y/n) spared a sharp look behind her shoulder. "Pull up!"

"I'm fine, I--"

"Pull up or else he'll shoot you down!" Luke yanked his X-wing up just as (Y/n) cut her engines. She passed over the TIE fighter before frantically starting the engine again and setting herself back on course behind it. "The main reactor should be up ahead Luke, I will deal with him so you can finish the job."

"But--"

"I'm counting on you! GO!" 

Luke speeded ahead as (Y/n) heaved in a deep breath to centre herself. She knew who was in the TIE fighter, it was no mistake. She trailed behind the TIE fighter, fingers hesitating over the buttons on her steering. Her brain told her to fire, but her heart told her to have mercy on the man who saved her life more times than she could count. She couldn't shoot him down--what if she accidently killed him? Anakin seemed to follow her train of thought, because he lingered behind as Luke disappeared down the tight lane.

"Did you get him (Y/n)?" Luke questioned through the mic. (Y/n)'s jaw tightened as she swallowed harshly. "No. He's...he's fast."

"Just blast him, you can do it!"

"I-I can't." She really couldn't no matter what her brain or Luke said. Even if Anakin looked, felt, and sounded different, he was still Anakin, her brother and best friend. He had to be there somewhere under all that armour and darkness. He just had to be. (Y/n) heaved out a long sigh and shut her eyes tight. There was a coldness in her chest as she lifted a hand, reaching as far out as she could to the man in front of her. 

Anakin...

His presence was colder than Hoth. It sent shivers down her spine.

I know you're there...

He was resisting her, shutting any access to his mind as if he knew she could bring him back.

Anakin, please....

All his anger and hatred began flowing into her like a ship crashing out of hyperspace. She felt his burning anger, icy hatred, and an overwhelming amount of sadness. He was there--she knew it. 

I know you're in there, come back.

This time, she wasn't met with darkness, but another voice that chilled her to the bone.

I will end you.

Anakin rounded on her so quickly that (Y/n) didn't have time to react. His engines cut, he circled overhead, and then he was behind her, blasting her X-wing like it was no one's business. It gave a lurch as smoke rose from the back. "I've been hit." she quietly grumbled. She frantically tapped a few buttons on the dash, but when a familiar 'beep, beep, beep' filled her ears, she sighed. This was her fault alone, not Anakin's and not bad luck. Leia told her of the horrors 'Darth Vader' committed to the galaxy, she told her of his slaughters and crime that were more vile than the number one bounty hunter, but (Y/n) refused to believe any of it.

Even now as he shot up her X-wing, she told herself that it wasn't Anakin doing it--it was Vader. And so she hesitated, fingers frozen over buttons and steering jerking around wildly.

There was a 'tch' over the channel. "What in Malachor do you think you're doing?" A familiar pile of junk shot through the inky space, soaring towards the Death Star at the speed of light. "Don't worry," Han said, "I've got you covered. Now get out of there so we can all go home!" He fired on Vader, allowing (Y/n) to squeeze her way out of the shaft and towards the junk pile of a ship. Not even five seconds later, Vader's TIE fighter lurched and smoked. He pulled out of the battlefield, turning tail to flee like a coward.

"Han, you came back!" (Y/n) exclaimed. He chuckled. "Couldn't let you two take all the credit now could I?" (Y/n) sighed to herself. "Of course." She paused. "Luke, how are you doing?" There was an eerie silence on the other end that seemed to last for decades. When the line stayed quiet, (Y/n) steered towards a group of TIE fighters and shot them out of the playing field. She then slammed a few buttons on her dash to stabilise the X-wing before lingering by Han's ship.

There was a long silence as Luke's X-wing retreated from the Death Star. It suddenly burst near the narrow shafts, continuing on until the whole thing lit up like a fire. A loud whoop suddenly broke the silence on the line, and Luke came barrelling towards the last of the Rebel forces. The Death Star tore into chunks before a satisfying, 'BOOM!' finished off the spectacular view.

(Y/n) couldn't stop the proud smile growing on her lips. Luke had done what was said to be nearly impossible. "Great shot kid!" shouted Han. "That was one in a million!" (Y/n) released the grip on her steering with a long sigh, relaxing into her seat as cheers echoed across the channel.

---

The clapping and cheering filled the large throne room with cheerful energy full of hope. The ceremony had ended only moments ago, leaving the Rebels in crowds around the exits. As everyone filed out of the room, (Y/n) stared down at the heavy medal on her neck reflecting the evening light onto the walls. It was a beautiful, shiny piece of metal, but it didn't feel right to be rewarded for something so insignificant. Sure, Han and Luke deserved it, but what did she do besides distract Darth Vader for five measly minutes? He had gotten away, and that left such a deep pit in (Y/n)'s gut. 

I will end you. 

That wasn't Anakin anymore. She knew him better than that, and he would never dare lay a finger on her, much less attempt to murder her in cold blood. Luke cast a glance towards her, eyes still as bright as the stars and galaxies far away in the inky black of space. He gave her shoulder a good nudge with an innocent smile. "I couldn't have blown up the Death Star without you or Han. Thank you, for...for having my back (Y/n)." She evaluated his relaxed expression curiously. That sure wasn't something she expected him to say. In fact, she thought he'd say something like, 'Are you okay?' or, 'What'cha thinking about?'. 

"It was nothing Luke," she forced a smile onto her lips. "I am glad we are a step closer to defeating the Empire once and for all. I wouldn't have...I wouldn't have escaped if you hadn't found..." she paused in thought. Blowing up the Death Star was more than taking a step forward, it meant going against everything she stood for. She didn't want to think about all the thousands upon thousands of deaths of prisoners, staff, and officers. It was immaculate, and that caused a disturbance in the Force she hadn't realised until now. Her senses were becoming clouded--but why? 

"What's wrong?" Luke swiftly inquired. (Y/n) placed a hand to her head, rubbing at her temple to ease the pain throbbing in the back of her skull. She blinked, shaking her head. "I-I'm fine, just...thinking is all." 

"Oh I see. A lot's happened in the past four days, it ought to be overwhelming." he said with a thoughtful nod. "I understand. How about we get something to eat before it's all gone?" (Y/n) smiled apologetically. "I will retire for the night. A bit of rest is should do me the trick." (Y/n) sensed Luke's disappointment as he folded his hands in front of his stomach. That made (Y/n) feel guilty, but she wasn't one for parties or crowded places. In the past, if there were ever a party, her men would keep her company in her room. They would all crowd on either the floor or her bed in pjs, sipping on juice and laughing about ridiculous stories.

There was a pulling in (Y/n)'s gut that made her frown. She didn't realise how much she missed her boys. Luke mimicked her frown and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're sad," he blurted out. "Do you, I don't know, want to talk about it? I can keep you company if you want." (Y/n) wanted to decline, but the soft look in his eyes that reminded her so much of Anakin made her say yes. The two walked made their way out of the throne room and through the winding halls of the quiet base. 

Before the mission to blow up the Death Star, Leia had shown (Y/n) what room she'd be staying in. According to her, it was one of the more roomier ones because it used to be a storage room for crates and supplies. Now, it was what (Y/n) had to accept as her new home. She punched in her code and flicked on the lights. Luke followed after, eyeing the empty space before him. "Wow, you have a nice room." (Y/n) chuckled a little. "It looks like a generic room back at the Temple. I would like to make it more homey, but that would only make me attached to this space." 

The door closed behind Luke with a light 'swish'. "That's not a bad thing, you know."

"But against the Code." (Y/n) quietly added. Luke fiddled with his yellow sweater and motioned to a lone chair in the corner of the room. "Can I sit here?" (Y/n) nodded as Luke took a seat. She followed suit, settling on the bed and leaning against the wall behind. An awkward silence followed that made (Y/n) crawl into herself. She wasn't sure how to start a conversation besides one about battle tactics, so she stayed quiet. 

"Uh," Luke began. "Ya like jizz?" 

(Y/n) chuckled at the lame attempt at conversation. "I had a wonderful friend who had the smoothest pick-up lines. He was funny and always made my day so much better. All my friends used to say we'd be cute together, but I knew that wouldn't be." A sad smile made its way onto (Y/n)'s lips. "He was great though, and I miss him dearly. He...was likely one of the most loyal people I had ever met. Sorry, I'm rambling." 

Luke shook his head. "No, I get it. I recently lost my aunt and uncle. They were killed by the Empire, and...it had to be the hardest thing I've been through. They didn't deserve to die. They were innocent people who were fair, kind and caring. I just...I miss them so much now."

(Y/n) nodded in understanding. "My friend was innocent too. He was so kind, always made me smile, and...he was great. I loved him dearly." 

"What was his name, if you don't mind me asking?" 

"Fives," she said. "His name was Fives. 

next chapter -->  CHAPTER 14

Annnnnnnd that's a wrap! We are at the end of a New Hope and are now transitioning to The Empire Strikes back! How exciting is that? I'm so sorry I'm always late with publishing my works now. I try to publish within 4-7 days between each chapter, but it's been hard. I've been studying a lot lately. Anyway, do you guys want a chapter about you and your men? I'll write a bit about their different personalities, backstories, etc., so tell me what you think of that :))) Stay safe everyone, and happy autumn!

#star wars the clone wars #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars the clone wars x reader #Anakin Skywalker #Luke Skywalker #han solo #Princess Leia #darth vader

[evabellasworld]

I Give You My Heart

Chapter 12

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

——————————————————————————————

Summary:  When Riyo Chuchi’s life was threatened, Commander Fox and Jedi Knight Ava Lira and Eva Bella Young are assigned to bring the senator back to her home planet Pantora, where she will be safe from harm. But when the assassin knows her whereabouts, it’s up to Fox, Lira, Eva, and Riyo to work together and stop the assassin.

————————————————————————————

Applying a drop of antiseptic onto a cotton pad, Riyo took a deep breath and dabbed tenderly on Lira's bare chest, much to the child's soft whimper. Lira could barely breathe as she felt her heart was about to fall off. Her ribs were on fire as her cheeks were scalding with splinters of the durasteel door.

“It's alright, Lira,” Riyo held her hand, as she reapplied the antiseptics on a different cotton pad. “You'll get better eventually, I promise.”

That's what the 11-year-old Jedi Knight has to hear whenever she gets bruised. Being prone to accidents and injuries, Lira does her best to be extra wary and watch her steps, before she would smack herself on the blank wall. She's seen with a cast more than often, and gets signatures on them, praying for her speedy recovery.

Eva would be the one who instructs her when there was a wall in front of her, or when the floor is wet. She was the only reason why Lira hasn’t even died from her ludicrous accidents, such as walking out of the window and toppling down a few stories of stairs. 

Though Lira was used to being battered, she felt that it had gotten worse. She was shot in the back with a cannon, she was trapped underneath the debris of sandstones, and was hit in the head by a sniper. She wondered why the Angel of Death never claimed her soul instead of the clones that fought side-by-side with her. 

As a youngling, Lira dreaded death as she didn't want to leave Eva all alone, but now, she finds herself yearning for her life to end. Having to watch her comrades succumbing to death on the battlefield, she frequently gets night terrors on the clones whom she has never gotten to save on time, despite her game plans. 

Grave after grave, she questioned when her time would be up. When will it be her turn to be buried and mourned by the others? She was always close to death, but death always spared her no matter how much she begged for it. To her, the world around her is already over. She doesn't know whether the war will end or when peace will prevail. She doesn't even know whether this battle would be worth it at the end of the day.

Commander Fox may not be a Jedi, but he recognizes that look that Lira gave to Riyo when she was receiving treatment. He has seen his brothers’ and sisters’ reactions whenever they lasted. Some would whimper like Lira did, some just tell the nurse to leave them alone, and others just pleaded for their miserable life to end.

“It's painful,” Lira sobbed, rubbing her eyes. “Can you make this less painful, senator?”

“It's alright, dear,” Riyo said, stroking her hair. “You will be okay, I promise. The pain will go away eventually.”

“Can't you make it go away right now?”

Fox watches as Riyo tightens her lips, shaking her head. “I'm sorry, Lira. I'm not a doctor, so I don't really know how to soothe your pain.”

He sighed as he sat beside the kid. He knows what it was like getting hurt when he was a child. His first injury was when he was just four years old. As usual, he was having physical training with his comrades when he slipped and fell from a high platform, shattering his left leg.

Usually, an adult supervising a child would rush them to the med bay, leaving them under the care of a kind-hearted nurse. But since Fox was only a clone, he was told to report himself to the med bay and follow whatever the medical droid stated to him, even though he could barely walk at all.

He didn't get the empathy he deserved when he was younger, but at least he was glad someone like Riyo would take the initiative to check on Lira and make sure that she's safe and sound. 

“We'll get you to the doctor once this is all over,” he assured her. “I promise that you'll be healed in no time, princess.”

Lira gave him a slight smile as Riyo temporarily draped her wounds with her bandage just to cover them from further infection. She may not be medically trained but at least she has the basic knowledge of the first-aid kits from her parents.

She remembered when she was around six or seven years old. Riyo was sledding down from the mud hill when she tumbled on a rock, causing her to fly from her sled and land on her face. Her body was soaked in mud and her nose was bleeding, much to the horror of her father, who was plowing the rice fields.

Her mother freaked out on her that day, giving a stern lecture on her reckless act and how hard it is to wash her stained clothes. Her father, on the other hand, just wiped her clean and taught her how to patch up her own wounds, just in case. “If you get yourself hurt, just wash your wounds, dry it, and apply some ointment on your cut before patching them up. That way, you will heal faster than you know it.” 

“Riyo?” Fox called her name, making her snap back to reality. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm alright, Fox,” nodded Riyo, clearing her throat. “I'm just having a moment, that's all.”

He let out a chuckle, much to her delight. “Well, can't say I blame you, especially whatever happened today.”

“Yeah, today is a terrible day. First, Bibi was hurt, then we were targeted at least twice, and last but not least, Lira got herself hurt in the process of protecting me.”

“Senator,” Lira spoke, pushing strands of her hair behind her ears. “It's not your fault. Things just happen, you know.”

“I just feel that whenever I go, I somehow bring trouble along with me, and it ends up hurting everyone around me, including you and Fox.”

“Ri,” Fox placed his hands on her shoulder. “You can't blame yourself. Our assassin is just smarter than all of us combined here. He is really hard to catch.”

Lira raised one of her eyebrows, noticing that he didn’t acknowledge Eva, who was still out there, catching their killer. “So what about Eva? She hasn't even returned yet.”

Her questions made him bite the tip of his tongue. Usually, Fox would just tell them that things won't work out, even if he knows that it would sadden them, but this was different. He isn't talking to an adult, he's talking to a child.

A child who has seen most of it, but still is inept with dealing with complex emotions. How is he going to explain that her twin sister, who shared the same womb, might not be able to make it? The last thing he wants is to hurt a child’s feelings, which he won’t forgive himself for that. But sometimes, it’s not good to hide the truth, even if it’s too painful to bear.

“Kid,” he gathered his thoughts, with a frown on his face. “I hate to tell you this but-”

Before he could tell her, the door hissed opened, and Eva staggering into the med bay. The side of her tunic was soaked in blood and her hair was disheveled. Lira's face gleamed for a moment, before realising that her younger twin was grasping onto her wound.

“Eva, are you okay?” Lira got down from her seat as she held her sister underneath her shoulder. “Goodness, you're bleeding.”

“I'm sorry, guys,” she moaned, as she clung over Lira's neck. “I let him get away. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it.”

Fox could only clench his fist tighter as he took a deep breath and approached Eva, who collapsed on her knees. He wasn't mad or disappointed in her, but towards the assassin instead. To hurt a senator he truly cared is one thing, but to hurt a child is something that irked him.

Eva may have been the one who screwed up, but he’s aware that it isn't her fault. He knows that she did everything she could to stop him, but was overpowered by his strength and agility. No matter how much they sought to protect Riyo, the killer will still find a way to take her down, even if it overstepped their moral boundaries.

“It's alright, kiddo,” Fox said, wiping the tears off her cheeks. “You did your best.”

“But I let him get away,” Eva shook her head. “I almost had him, but I let him manipulate me instead. I should have ignored his words and arrested him immediately instead. I-”

“Eva,” Riyo shushed her as she placed her index finger in her lips. “You're not the one to blame. What matters is that you're safe and sound, that's all.”

Eva sniffled as she let Riyo swaddle her arms around her. She screwed up real bad this time. Even with Fox and Riyo persuading them that it wasn't their fault, they both can't help but feel immense guilt within themselves. Now that the assassin has gotten away from their grasp, Riyo's life is still in danger, and they have to do everything they could to protect her from further harm. 

“So, what do we do now?” Lira asked.

He rubbed his temples, figuring out a way to stop the assassin. With everything he planned to safeguard Riyo failed, he had to find an alternative method that may or may not work for all of them.

The bunker is not secure for them anymore, since the assassin had discovered them there in the first place. The hospital is also not safe, since patients and nurses were affected by the attack as well. He's not even sure if Riyo's apartment would shield her from an imminent threat against her, or the girls as well.

With nothing coming up in his mind, Fox would have no other choice but to discuss it with the Chancellor, even if he hates him so much. He hates how much he made him stay up late at night just to fill up that paperwork and how he hardly cares if his siblings got hurt, but what other choice does he have? The Chancellor himself was the one who is the commander-in-chief in this war, and he is the one who runs the show in the first place, so what can he do about it?

Even if he lamented, the Chancellor would just shrug it off and force him to focus on a more important task instead, which Fox despised.

“I'll call for backup,” he answered Lira. “I'll call for backup to pick up the three of you and send you ladies back home. That's the only option I can think of right now.”

“You mean the Jedi Temple?” Eva raised her eyebrows.

“No, to Senator Chuchi's apartment,” he shook his head, putting on his helmet. “You both will be staying with her for a night or two.”

Riyo's brow furrowed as she glanced at the twins, who were holding each other's hands. To her, they both are in no good condition to fight or even get up. What is Fox even thinking? She thought.

“With all due respect, Commander, Lira and Eva need to be treated as soon as possible. They shouldn't be protecting me right now.”

“I'm not asking them to protect you,” he defended himself. “I'm just asking them to stay with you while I'm away. Besides, I'll be sending in the medic along the way as well just in case anything happens.”

“But what about the assassin?” Eva asked. “Won't he come after Senator Chuchi?”

“Commander Thire will take over my shift in the meantime so if there's any doubt, he'll be more than willing to help you. Am I clear?”

Riyo nodded as she took his hand, staring into his deep brown eyes. “Be careful, alright? I don't want you getting hurt as well.” 

“I will, Ri, I promise.”

#star wars #star wars ocs #star wars original characters #star wars fics #star wars fanfics #star wars fanfictions #clone trooper #clone trooper ocs #clone ocs #female clone troopers #commander fox #clone trooper lip #clone trooper yves #jedi #jedi knight #jedi ocs #eva bella young #ava lira young #senators #riyo chuchi #senator riyo chuchi #foxiyo #foxiyo week #riyo x fox

[laciefuyu]

After the war.... (that will never happen)

Summary:

Obi-wan after the briefing with Ahsoka. A character study.

(I re-write most of it and suddenly it already reach 2k word, 1k words than before. I hope you gave this a chance again.)

AO3 (Disaster Lineage feels) (With Codywan if you squint)

Tell Anakin…..

I will.

Obi-wan watched his former grand-padawan give him a slight nod and then rushed out of the room followed by Rex and Bo-Katan. He bit inside his cheek and tried to calm himself down as his anxiety started to rear his head on again. He was worried. There was no question about Ahsoka’s ability, he trusted her ability. After all she was taught by Anakin, while he helped here and there a little bit. So yes, it’s not her ability that made him worried. It’s Maul. The Sith Lord, as he said to Ahsoka, he didn’t seem to stay dead. Maul, in a way, had always been unpredictable like that. He just hoped she managed to capture Maul without any complication.  

Obi-wan turned off his holo and checked his chronometer. There would be still a time before he had to go to the bridge, briefed about their plan and went to Utapau ahead to serve as a distraction before the rest of his men arrived. He let himself relax for a little bit and sat on his bunk. He felt a persistent headache on his temple and pinched the bridge of his nose, in an attempt to appease it. And then after a bit time passed, he sighed.

Truth to be told, he felt a deep bone weariness after having to fight in this war for years. It was an endless cycle of battle and loss. As the fight unlikely ceased to exist, the death toll kept climbing. So many deaths. It took life without discrimination and left the one that left behind grieving. He lost his fellow Jedi, his family and grieved over them all this time. He had to see his men keep losing their brothers, grieving for them and he couldn’t do anything about it as he felt guilty for not doing more to help them surviving this war. And Satine, he would never get over her loss, for not being able to save her would always be one of his biggest regrets. Not to mention people who were being invaded by separatist or the one that got caught in this war. This war consumed everyone. He sighed tiredly. Every loss he faced weighed his shoulder more and more as years passed. It was always hard to be one that survives.

Obi-wan was tired of loss. He wanted this war to end as soon as possible, so maybe, something would be able to heal, to be better. Just something toward a better, hopeful path. That was why he had to bet his hope on this fight with Grievous. That this fight would help them to end the war and if Ahsoka managed to capture Maul, they would be able to learn the truth of Darth Sidious. The mysterious Sith Lord who orchestrated the entire war.

If they were able to find out the truth, they might finally be able to put a stop on this Darth Sidious machination.

And if it comes to that, they might be able to put the war to rest.

Maybe his former padawan and grand-padawan finally could take a break.

Maybe Obi-wan could finally talk about the unspoken problem between them, repairing their relationship slowly but surely. He knew he had hurt his former grand-padawan, after all he was part of the Council. The Council was not perfect; he could admit that, they all knew that and that time there was nothing that could do except make that bad decision because there were only bad decisions but he knew that would only sounded like an excuse. And that was why he decided not to contact her because he thought, the very least he could do  was to respect her decision. She deserved to have her space and figured things out for her own sake. To find a place in this galaxy.  

But he was not sure it was the right decision in the end because he could see that the lingering hurt fester, and everything that was between them went unsaid. It left them with so much tension. She might have thought that he didn’t try to contact her proof that he didn’t care. He didn’t want things to stay the way it was. He wanted and would do better for her. Ahsoka deserved that.

And there was Anakin.

Obi-wan almost sighed again but resisted, instead the previous headache came back. He was worried for Anakin. Very worried . Ever since the Battle of Coruscant and they saved the chancellor, there was an underlying feeling of restlessness in Anakin. It was persistent and made him more moody and detached. He didn’t know how to make his former padawan talk to him because Anakin, in some way, is very secretive around him. Even for things that he already more or less knew. He tried to give him an opening but nothing would budge him. It left Obi-wan feeling helpless. He wanted to help Anakin, he really did but it felt like he wouldn’t want it if it came from Obi-wan. And then, the request to spy on the chancellor. After being told about his special assignment Anakin was feeling especially irritated about it which Obi-wan could understand where did that come from. Obi-wan might be wary and couldn’t trust Palpatine, he never tried to hide it but for Anakin, that man was his friend. Obi-wan knew that Anakin sometimes confided in him. (There was some part of him that was sad that Anakin trusted Palpatine more than him.)

It was not like Obi-wan was happy about the special assignment. If anything, he felt unhappy about it. He didn’t like to put Anakin in this position. Even so, he  also understood why they had to resort to such a decision. It might be less than wise but at this point there were no other choices. There was too much on line. They had to know whether Palpatine had to do with the prolonging of the war. His worried feelings aside, he decided to trust Anakin as he always had because Anakin never disappointed him. He never had. He knew that Anakin eventually would always be able to do what he had to do. He had always been.

Even then, he still reached out for Padme and Ahsoka. He hoped that both of them would be able to have a better chance of appeasing the restlessness that dwelling in him or actually talk to them about the problem that bothered him. If Anakin couldn't talk to him because he couldn’t trust him enough, sure he could talk to them right?

(And the fact stung. A lot. Anakin was more likely to confide in them than him. He felt lost sometime. Did he was such a bad friend that Anakin refused to confide in him? Lately Obi-wan always felt there was an invisible barrier between them and he didn’t know how to put the barrier down.That was why, he really hoped after this war ended, he could talk what was it that made it hard for him to talk to him. He had been respecting Anakin’s space that was why he never pushed but he didn’t want it to fester any longer. So yes, after the war he had to push Anakin a little bit so they could actually talk.)

Before Obi-wan departed to go to Utapau, Anakin told him that he recognized in hindsight, he was just too frustrated that was why he reacted like that in front of the council. The fact that Anakin managed to point it out himself made a warm smile bloom on Obi-wan's face. He was proud of him that he was able to look into himself and reflect on it. For a bit, he thought it would be alright then. That his friend would be alright even if he were not there and he knew that Padme would be there to talk to him. Anakin would be alright. He had to believe it.

And yet , Obi-wan couldn’t get rid of the feeling of worry he had. It was persistent and the force was not exactly helping at the moment. The force tried to nudge him about something but he was not sure exactly what the things that were being referred to were.

Obi-wan caressed his beard in frustration. He had to trust Anakin and the force. For the force to look after Anakin and for Anakin to be alright and make the right decisions, whatever decisions it might be. He had to trust that everything would be alright. He had to focus in the moment. After all, he also had duty that had to be done. To hunt off Grievous.

But first of all, he should try to contact Anakin. After all, he had a message to deliver.

Tell Anakin….. We’ll catch up soon.

I will.

Anakin would be delighted. Obi-wan knew he would. He chuckled, thinking of how Anakin would react. He knew that Anakin just wanted everything to be alright again between them. Those words were as good as Ahsoka accepting Anakin’s back in her life. He hoped it would be able to cheer up Anakin.

But in the end, none of his attempts reached his comm. Obi-wan frowned. How subtle, he thought dryly. He had an idea why his friend didn’t pick up his comm and sighed. It was not really surprising but he hoped Anakin realized they were far from being subtle, if anything they were terribly obvious that their attempt at hiding it just seemed silly. He might not really be sure what exactly was their relationship but he knew that it was definitely romantic in nature. He couldn’t find him to be annoyed because he went to Padme’s place. That might be a good thing, maybe Padme would be able to help Anakin.

Obi-wan decided he would comm Anakin later. He didn’t want to interrupt them if they were in the middle of talking or worse, less talking.

Obi-wan checked the chronometer and straightened his robes. He had not realised that he had been thinking for quite a time. Well, it was time for him to focus on what was in front of him. It was the time that he should head to the bridge, preparing to brief his men, he must not let them wait. He was about to leave, only to almost collide with his commander. For some reason there was feeling a little disappointment around Cody.

“Cody.” He grinned with a teasing smile ready on his lips.

“Obi-wan.” Cody huffed, there was fondness and exasperation in his tone. He had a little smile on his face.

“You know you could just comm me, right?” Obi-wan asked, amusement laced in his tone as he arched one of his eyebrows.

Cody huffed. He knew Obi-wan only teased him, arched his eyebrows too. “Is it too much that I hoped you had a nap, Obi-wan?” It was a teasing, an amusement was obvious but there was also an underlying concern there. Obi-wan realized Cody might really wished he had some rest which also a little disappointment he felt earlier, his commander might hoped to find him asleep.

Obi-wan chuckled a little (which earned him an amused glare from Cody) and smiled fondly at Cody.  He grabbed his commander’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I will have a nap as soon as we are able to hunt down Grievous. It’s a promise.”

Cody gave him a skeptical look, he should have felt offended but his track record not exactly helping his case. “If you say so, General.” He shrugged but there was an unspoken understanding and knowing his commander, he would make sure that Obi-wan would actually come through with his promise. (He really meant the promise though. He might usually avoid it but if the fight with Grievous ends up in their win, he could finally rest.)

“So much faith in, Commander.” Obi-wan huffed.

“Always.” Cody smiled.  

And Obi-wan smiled back easily. It was always nice that he would always had his commander’s faith. He took a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself as they walked to the bridge. It was time to focus on his task at the moment and then when the war ended….

He let himself hope for peace once more time descended upon the galaxy again.

And then, maybe the future would finally take care of itself.

Everything would finally be alright.

(But it didn’t. It never came as his hope for peace burned along with the galaxy.)

#sw #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #commander cody #clone wars #laciefuyu fic #i re write stuffs #and it give it 1k more words lol

[fromxthexdepths]

So as I’m still lacking the bios, I’m going to throw a blurb here.

From left to right: Jedi Master Kit Fisto, Captain Aliza Organa, Sparks, Razor, Edge, Chatterbox, Chuckles, and Haywire.

Aliza Organa—a rather distant relation to Bail Organa—was a captain of the Senate Guard before Order 66 went down. She spent a great deal of her time there and often saw several Jedi in the building or around the city. She found most of them to be either a bit naïve or snobbish, but overall, she respected them.

Two of the ones she always enjoyed seeing were Jedi Master Plo Koon and Jedi Master Kit Fisto, the first for his calm and polite demeanor and the second for his good sense of humor and affinity for laughter. They seemed quite different to most of the Jedi she saw. (Though Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi were close seconds.)

She was on patrol the day the Jedi entered the Senate, and she was passing when she felt something wasn’t right… and then heard the sounds of battle and shouts.

Going through the passageways known only to the Guard, ways they were taught for safety, she entered the room just after Palpatine and Windu had moved from it only to see the bodies of the other three Jedi—including Master Fisto!—on the floor. She was horrified but she didn’t have time to consider. She could hear the sounds of battle in the other room and there was only a split second to make a decision.

She checked the first two Jedi, but there was nothing to be done. When she reached Master Fisto, she expected much the same result and yet… there was a pulse!

In another instantaneous decision––the fight seeming to begin moving again––she dragged a grievously injured Kit from the room and into the passageway, closing it behind her. Rather than take the time to think, she cast off her helmet and bulky shoulder plates and properly picked him up, carrying him through the corridors. She didn’t understand what was going on but something was wrong, and she didn’t need the Force to tell her that.

She went to ground.

The next few hours and days were difficult, for her and for Kit. She wasn’t a medic by any means, but she was able to contact her relative, Bail, and he was able to obtain the necessary supplies for her as well as to give her explanation, which struck her like a lightning bolt.

The Jedi had been branded traitors, and she had saved one of them, which meant she, too, had committed treason.

Kit was not in good shape for several days, running a fever and nearly delirious with pain, though with the supplies brought to her, a serious infection was avoided and he pulled through it. (Though he would have a permanent and horrendous limp for the rest of his life from the damage done when the lightsaber sliced his side/hip.)

The next time Bail contacted her, it was with a means of getting them off-world and to somewhere else, somewhere beyond the Empire’s reach. By then, Kit was more aware and they narrowed down the possibilities based upon the traits of his species. Takodana was decided between them, though Bail did not wish to hear their location, for the sake of everyone’s safety.

Once on Takodana, Kit reunited with a dear friend—Maz Kanata—and she agreed to allow him to stay there, earning his stay as a bartender named Orrus Rindit.

While Aliza does spend a great amount of time there, too, she does take up work as a bounty hunter to cover any necessities. She doesn’t much like the job but. Beggars can’t be choosers and that plays closest to her skill set. It also allows her to keep an ear to the ground, so to speak, on bounties and on her fellow hunters.

Of course, Kit’s clone troopers, once upon a time jokingly referred to by others as Kit’s Kids—Sparks, Razor, Edge, Chatterbox, Chuckles, and Haywire—retired post Order-66. They were good at what they did, but they hadn’t quite made a name for themselves the way some did, like Cody, so they weren’t asked to train the new military. They simply retired and vanished.

Through sheer coincidence or the Force at work, they went to Takodana because they knew of Kit’s friendship with several of the… rascally types, including Hondo Ohnaka and Maz Kanata. They wished to relay the news to them in person. Maz, of course, received their sad news after closing time and with great somberness. She even offered them a round of drinks on the house before they left… and called the order out to the bartender who had heard it all.

As soon as The Kids saw that grin, they knew exactly who it was and they were both shocked and overjoyed—Chuckles perhaps a bit too much so as he jumped the counter and bear-hugged Kit. [Chuckles is particularly attached to Kit as he saved his life a few times. He even tattooed Kit’s markings onto his own shoulders as a sign of loyalty and respect. Whether Kit knows about it or not is anyone’s guess. His armor was similarly painted.]

From there, the clones usually split and take turns when Aliza leaves to go on a bounty. Half go with her and the others stay with Kit to keep him safe take a break.

————————

Fun Fact Number 1: Aliza has managed to keep Kit alive this long, and she doesn’t intend to change the plan this late in the game. She is very protective of him, and she gives a lot of side eye.

Fun Fact Number 2: After they thought they lost him once, The Kids don’t plan on losing him for real. They are very protective of him also.

Essentially, if you approach the bartender on Takodana, prepare to receive some side eye from multiple directions.

#|| master fisto || { about kit } #|| captain organa || { about aliza } #|| the kids || { about kit’s kids } #// They will all get individual tags before long #// But that is their collective tag #// This also turned into longer than a blurb but #// 😂😂😂 #// It is what it is.

[essays-for-breakfast]

Battle of Stars

Melizabeth Week Day 7: AU

Author’s note: This is a Star Wars AU - for self-indulgent reasons - with almost no semblance of the original plot, and the author flexed all her nerd muscles while writing this. Forgive me!

The Manta class troop transporter tilted sideways as the pilot battled against the harsh winds of Ruusan’s upper hemispheres, and Elizabeth swallowed a wave of nausea from the sudden jolt. Her hands found their way to the lightsaber at her side all on their own, and the cool metal calmed her stained nerves. Fear was an unnecessary emotion for a Jedi to harbor, especially for a newly appointed Jedi Knight. Elizabeth had earned this title through hard years of training and field missions on the most outlandish terrains the galaxy had to offer, always under the guiding hand of her master, Hendrickson.

If her master could see her frightened face, he would surely remind her of the pure light of the Force that protected every Jedi and led them through even the most difficult times.

The Force is with you, Padawan, even when your fear prevents you from seeing it, was his favorite mantra, and he had made sure Elizabeth could recite his teachings in every situation, no matter how precarious. Including the smoldering battlefields of Ruusan.

But despite the calm stream of the Force inside of her, Elizabeth tensed when a projectile exploded a mere armlength away from the outer shell of the transporter as the shields absorbed the bulk of the damage. The ship tumbled sideways like a confused Aiwa, and Elizabeth dug her fingers into the leather handle above her head. In the cockpit, separated from the troop compartment by an open bulkhead, an alarm howled, a warning that the shields had dropped under twenty percent. Another hit and they were done for.

And despite the cacophony of nearby explosions and the constant up and down of the troop compartment, Jedi Master Diane stood unmoving between the Republic soldiers, as firm as a rock in the raging seas of Glee Anselm.

The older Jedi offered Elizabeth a reassuring smile. “There is little to worry about,” she said, “the Sith don’t have the resources to hold a crossfire like this up for long. Their troops will need to spare their blaster fire if they want to stand any chance during the ground assault.”

As if on command, the sound of laser artillery penetrating the sky and the handful of republican transporters faded to be replaced by the buzzing of engines as their unit continued their descent without further troubles.

“I wish I had your confidence, Master,” Elizabeth said.

“It is all a matter of experience,” Diane said. “The more battles you fight, the better you will learn to understand the nuances of warfare and what aspects you should focus on to gain the upper hand. Didn’t Master Hendrickson teach you these things?”

“He did, and we assisted our troops in a few skirmishes along the Tingel Arm. But Master Hendrickson values the role as peacekeeper more than that of a general. Whenever possible, he dragged me to some distant planet to study the local fauna and help those in need.”

At the time, Elizabeth had found these trips into the Outer Rim boring and unfitting for a Jedi, after all, the war with the Sith threatened to destroy stability all throughout the galaxy. And as soon as Elizabeth had traded the Padawan plait for the title of Jedi Knight, she had volunteered to join the constant stream of supply units headed for Ruusan, one of the most heated and most crucial battlefields, to support her fellow Jedi in the fight against the Dark Side. But the grueling minutes before the fight, during which she could do nothing other than trust in the pilot’s ability to land his vessel safely, almost made her miss the peaceful fields of Dantooine.

Diane nodded thoughtfully. “Your master is a wise man. With priorities that are sadly becoming more and more rare among the ranks of the Jedi. Even the council grants Master Ludociel more freedom to carry out his feud with the Sith than necessary.”

“But aren’t the Sith and especially the Emperor an evil that must be destroyed to bring peace to the galaxy?” Elizabeth asked. The Jedi temple was filled with nightmarish stories about the Sith and their dark arts, and she had been warned of the tempting yet destructive nature of the Dark Side since her days as a Youngling.

“Some Jedi would say that, yes. But fighting for the sake of fighting is meaningless – I would rather avoid the path that leads to more conflict.”

A jolt went through the transporter that made Elizabeth’s teeth smack against one another, and a second later, the bulkheads opened to allow Rusaan’s sandstorms to enter.

Elizabeth squinted but jumped into the open as the first hail shower of blaster bolts rained onto the transporter to leave smoldering marks on its shell. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me, Elizabeth recited the ancient saying of the Guardians of the Whills, and activated her lightsaber. The blue bolt of pure light sent the blaster fire back to its marksmen; one Sith trooper went limp behind the makeshift trench he had used as cover.

Diane was leading her troops forward, green lightsaber in hand, and soon their unit advanced through the enemy lines and towards the goal of their mission: the ancient temple embedded into the mountain range ahead. Before the war had come to Rusaan, the stone structures had represented a shrine to the local population sited amidst a prospering forest, but the Sith had since burned down the trees and had turned the temple into one of their strongholds – where the forces of the Republic planned to secure crucial data about the enemy’s plans and tactics. Elizabeth had garnered this information from the official report handed out during the mission briefing, but the burned earth in the mountains’ shadow still turned her stomach upside-down. Master Hendrickson would have shed a silent tear had he been tortured with this view.

Elizabeth silenced the cries of injustice in her heart and filled her mind with a feeling of peace the way she had been taught. Guided by the Force, she pathed her way through the enemy defenses and the dunes of sulfur-heavy sand, swung her lightsaber in a perfect display of Soresu, the third form of lightsaber combat, and never halted until she reached the entrance of the temple, a gaping chasm filled with the stench of the Dark Side.

When she failed to detect enemy presences in the immediate area, Elizabeth turned to meet Diane’s eyes across the battle field. The Jedi Master briefly paused her chain of heavy-hitting attacks, and called out to Elizabeth over the buzz of laser artillery that announced the arrival of enemy reinforcement.

“Take a few of my men and advance into the temple. We will join you shortly.”

Elizabeth waited for three heavily armed republican soldiers to catch up and offered them a nod, before they climbed the final steps and entered the shadows. Inside, the howling of the storm faded to distant background stereo, like interference on a flawed comm channel.

A chill befell Elizabeth in her light Jedi tunic, but she fought the unease with a few calming breaths. Water dripped from the detailed reliefs on the wall, hinting at an underground spring located deep within the mountain that collected Russan’s sparse rainwater. The tiny streams reflected the glow from Elizabeth’s lightsaber and the small search lights attached to the soldiers’ helmets, but apart from that, the hallway with its high ceiling was cast in shadows. Somewhere in the dark, a stream of water gurgled along. Always in expectation of an ambush, their squad crept forward.

“No heat signals up ahead,” one of the soldiers informed after performing a scan via his HUD. With the anonymous helmet, Elizabeth had difficulties identifying the soldier, but she believed the voice to belong to a man named Howzer, one of Master Diane’s top commandos. “Thanks to the storm, the comm’s already dead. The sand could’ve messed with the scanners too.”  

“Stay on guard,” Elizabeth said and followed her own advice by dropping into a defensive pose as she placed step by step forward.

The Sith were well known for their traps designed to take out unexperienced Jedi. One of her training partners during her temple days, a kid named Mael, had run into such a trap on one of his first field missions, and he was declared missing by his master ever since. In all likelihood, the Sith had long disposed of his corpse. Or they had taken him to their outpost on Korriban to use him in their experiments. Separate mind and body, mutate the flesh of their victims, or turn them into weak-willed puppets to add to their army; Elizabeth had read reports on these and crueler methods of torture when her master hadn’t been around to see.

She shook the thought off and concentrated on her environment. The Force might offer you glimpses into the future, but you can only use this advantage if you remain in the present, as Master Hendrickson liked to say.

Her crono confirmed only a few minutes had passed, but the walk through the dark felt like hours before Elizabeth and her squad came across a durasteel gate too technological advanced to fit into the old hallways and high-rising pillars around.

Howzer ordered his men to take cover with clipped gestures before he tapped the control panel embedded into the stone next to the gate. The bulkhead protested with a shrill squeal as the opening mechanism pulled the durasteel aside to reveal the chamber beyond. A multitude of screens enlightened the room to give the impression of a control center, but before Elizabeth fully realized the situation, a shadow rushed past her, followed by one and then a second outcry.

Elizabeth spun and skidded on the polished floor tiles as she caught a glimpse at their attacker. Two of her men had slumped lifeless to the ground, and above them towered a male human with a cold grin on his face. The red of his lightsaber painted bloody hues onto the walls. He was no doubt a Sith, his poisoned aura like a nexus of evil appalled Elizabeth to the core.

She had never faced a Sith before, and all her passionate preaches about fighting and destroying the scoundrels of the galaxy vanished, washed away by the cold imprint this man left in the current of the Force around her.

The blaster bolts hurrying past her head tore Elizabeth out of her paralysis as Howzer targeted the Sith with mechanical precision. The Sith’s face remained unflinching, and he deflected the shots with arrogant ease until the play bored him and he reached out with his unarmed right hand. Elizabeth could almost see the Force as it twisted between his clawed fingers. Howzer gargled but still managed to pull the trigger while the air was ripped out of his lungs by the hands of the Dark Side. His efforts amused the Sith more than anything, and he sidestepped the laser bolt without a change in expression.

Elizabeth finally regained her sense of self and jumped into the fray with a parade of swings aimed at the Sith’s head. His green eyes widened for less then a second before he raised his weapon to deflect. A mix of red and blue danced across his boyish features.

“Send for reinforcements, I’ll hold him off,” Elizabeth yelled, and Howzer, who had dropped to his knees as soon as the Sith’s attention no longer rested on him, obeyed and staggered towards the exit.

Elizabeth and the Sith parted, and his lips twister into a malicious grin. “How bold of you, Jedi, to think you can hold out until your unit arrives.” In his mouth, the word Jedi sounded like an insult rather than a title to command respect.

Instead of an answer, Elizabeth dove into the stream of the Force and allowed its wise hands to guide her next moves. She charged and turned her forward momentum into a chain of short swings with varied angles but minimal countermovement. Despite his smaller statute, he parried her attacks with enough physical strength to sent a quiver down her arm muscles every time their blades clashed. He retreated with quick steps that always allowed him to meet her with the advantage of a strong stance. Elizabeth’s best chance of victory was to pin him down and prevent him from dealing out hits himself. A small hope at best.

While she had trained all variants of combat her teachers at the temple and later Hendrickson had to offer, Elizabeth had never battled an opponent as versed with their lightsaber as this Sith. Each movement was a perfectly calculated effort, each shift in stance a display of uncounted practice sessions. More than one with the Force, he became one with his lightsaber the longer the duel proceeded. Elizabeth had seen Jedi Masters enter a fighting trance that reduced their reaction time to a fraction of a heartbeat, and the speed of this Sith rivalled the best of them.

If he had intended to end the fight, he could have done so numerous times over. But for some reason, Elizabeth’s efforts seemed to entertain him.

He allowed her to push him back with an endless loop of the same hits in slight variation, amused by her inability to alter from the patterns she had learned at the beginning of her training; his dark aura had disabled Elizabeth’s ability to strategize, and those fight patterns ingrained into her muscles were the only tactic she could rely on.

But apart from a physical and speed benefit, her opponent had another advantage to use in his favor: knowledge about the terrain. And as Elizabeth dared to hope she might corner him between the wall and her blade, he dropped low, struck for her legs, and stood behind her in one single motion. Elizabeth evaded the hit but tripped on the slippery tiles. She expected to stumble into the wall, but the ground beneath her suddenly vanished and she fell into the canal hugging the wall that had been obscured by shadows. The water didn’t run deep, and Elizabeth’s joints protested as she absorbed the impact with a roll.

Soaked and on wobbly legs, Elizabeth met the eyes of her opponent standing several meters above with a relaxed posture that screamed victory.

“Don’t try it if you want to make it out alive,” the Sith said, and Elizabeth gritted her teeth. With the aid of the Force, she could have catapulted herself back to ground level, but he had a point, he would cut her down if she tried.

“You fought valiantly, Jedi,” he continued, “but I’m afraid your efforts were in vain. Thanks to our little dance, my troops have gained enough time to destroy any information you and your pathetic ensemble of light bringers could have used against us.”

“You never intended to uphold this base.”

The Sith grinned. “No, my master generously surrenders these empty halls to the Republic. There are far more interesting targets worth pursuing. I look forward to face you on another day on a different battlefield, Jedi. For the time being, I must take my leave. My master is not a man of patience.”

Disheartened, Elizabeth lowered her lightsaber. The entire operation had been a failure from the start; the Sith had anticipated the advancements of the Republican army. But if Elizabeth stroked her opponent’s ego, perhaps she could gain at least some information of value.

“Your master must be a great figure in the war if he polished your skills with a lightsaber to these impressive degrees.”

The twitch of amusement in the corners of his eyes showed he had seen through her charade. But he stooped to an answer regardless. “You might have heard of him as the one who stands above the Ten Commandments, the elite of the Sith Empire. I merely carry out his plans. So long, Jedi.”

He saluted mockingly and disappeared out of view. Elizabeth remained in the canal while the water brushed past her boots, too shocked to speak or move. The man she had fought was no ordinary Sith, no distant servant of the Dark Side without prowess or knowledge of the enemy’s plans. The man with the blond hair and the excellent footwork was Meliodas, apprentice of the Emperor himself.

By the time Master Diane and her men arrived, Elizabeth had regained her composure and confirmed the failure of the mission and the destruction of valuable data. But her thoughts kept circling around Meliodas and the ease with which he had defeated her; he thought so little of her he had revealed his identity for the sole purpose of his amusement.

And while the soldiers searched the control center for minute clues the Sith might have overlooked in the haste of their departure, Elizabeth swore to herself to train harder and learn the fighting trance technique.

The next time she would face Meliodas, she would best him. To bring the galaxy one step closer to peace. So that the light of the Jedi might withstand and cast away the darkness of the Sith Empire.

#melizabethweek #nnt fanfiction #nnt au #nanatsu no taizai #star wars #my writing #meliodas #elizabeth #what am I doing with my life? #legends lore #bonus points if anyone knew Rusaan beforehand #fanfiction