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Chapter Text

        He entered the underworld of Coruscant, dropping further and further from the lights of the Jedi Temple as he retraced the steps of a chase that had nearly broken him.
        Anakin Skywalker was on a mission, and he wasn't going to rest until it was completed.
        The rusty old speeder bike he'd "borrowed" from the clone barracks gave a stutter, but he flew on silently into the night, the long cloak that concealed him billowing in the wind. Behind him, the lights of the main city began to blur together, and he marveled at the fact that even in a city full of beings, he could still feel so alone.
        Behind the hood of fabric that hid his pain from the world, tears began to fall.
        Jedi weren't supposed to cry. Anakin only had once, when his mother died.
        But the tears fell anyway, ripping open a hole in the Force where he had once felt the song, the soul of his Padawan. The connection between them was still there, but it was clouded, full of the pain and sorrow the master and apprentice shared, knowing deep down they could never go back.
        Wiping at his nose to catch the salty droplets on his gloved hand, Anakin descended down to the tunnels he'd chased her through, desperate, hoping that she'd change her mind. He hopped off the bike and left it there, fighting to see through the fog of polluted air. He stumbled through the tunnels, searching for a sliver of the signature he sought. The hum of kyber, tuned finely and cared for, burning bright in the Force. Closing his eyes, he let himself go, tapping into the Force as he searched for the last remnants of his Padawan.
        She'd been his responsibility. He'd never asked for a Padawan, but the feisty Togruta had somehow snuck into his heart with her snarky comebacks and teasing. And he'd let her down.
        He was close, he could tell. Kyber crystals were unique to their owners, and he'd been bonded through the Force to her for so long, he knew her Force signature almost as well as his own lightsaber. He moved along the pipeline, running along the bridge, and feeling a sense of deja vu, remembering how he'd watched the scared Padawan run right where he was now.
        He stopped right before he stepped off the bridge into the unknown. Scrambling backward, he moved away from the gaping yaw of the broken bridge. How had this gotten here? Then he remembered the rocket shot landing no more than three feet away from her, knocking her off of the bridge and-
        Allowing her shoto saber to drop over the edge of the bridge.
        Steadying his feet, Anakin tried to judge the jump. It was murky and hard to see, but he could still feel one of the last links he had to his Padawan pulsing through the Force.
        He gazed down. He could probably make the jump. The bridge had broken off just a little above solid ground. A ten-foot jump might seem- extreme, but it shouldn't have been a problem for a Jedi who had the Force with him. It definitely wasn't the first time he'd leaped into the unknown, with no guarantee of a safe landing. But something whispered in the back of his mind, an instinct, no, a feeling.
        He turned around, planning to leap backward, then tuck into a somersault to land facing the broken bridge. He crouched, reaching out with the Force, stretching into the time that had not yet happened, and launched himself into the maw of darkness.
        It was then that the feeling in his mind finally spoke.
        "Anakin…"
        And a thousand starry images burst through his consciousness. Memories of moments nearly forgotten, painted over and over again until time obliterated them into a sea of meaning.
        "I trust him with my life," said the apprentice as embers burned around her, and pain enveloped them both. So many smiles and jokes and daring rescues, surrounding them until the present became the past, and this time he saw moments he wasn't there for.
        "If you need to, you'll do what must be done. I know it," a younger, softer Barriss Offee murmured, the moments they'd shared not yet poisoned by her betrayal.
        "You already did everything you could. Everything you had to do," the Togruta reassured him, in one of the moments he'd been proudest of her. He'd felt so terrible, he'd done everything he could to rescue her. But in the end, all the hardships she'd suffered had been her choosing, no matter what he did to protect her.
        Anakin just couldn't seem to stop fighting for her, even now that she had surrendered.
        The Force moved through his life faster than a ship in hyperspace, switching from past and future, back to the present, slingshotting between what had been and what was yet to be. Instinctually he knew that he was still in the air with his knees tucked up, rotating. He'd learned his split-second visions often took less time in reality than a lightsaber igniting. But he still felt the urgency, the need to return to his mission. But the Force had other ideas.
        His vision blurred and swirled as flashes of what appeared to be the future shoved their way to the forefront.
        "You can't save your master, and I can't save mine," his apprentice whispered, and Anakin was shocked to see the tears in her steely gaze, the weight and wisdom of so many years pressing, and Anakin Skywalker wondered when they would ever meet again.
        "I'm asking you to let go," Ahsoka Tano said, looking directly at him, and in that moment Anakin snapped back to reality and came out of the tuck. But he didn't land on the solid metal ground of the industrial pipeline.
        Instead, he felt a sharp pain rip through his forearm as he slammed his arms back onto the platform to stop his descent.
        He was quickly shoved back by the weight of the impact, hanging by the fingertips of his metal hand. Against his better judgment, he looked down to see the jagged steel of the broken bridge below, spiking the night with its deadly glimmer. He turned, chilled at the idea that if he'd jumped down, he would have been cut to pieces, most likely bleeding to death before any help arrived.
        Pulling himself up from the precarious position, he shimmied so that he could lay flat on his stomach and look down, hunting for- there it was. The pale gleam of the rounded metal, subtly different to the naked eye from the sharpness of the blown-apart metal, but easy to spot once he'd seen it. The shoto lightsaber.
        He tried to reach it, but he knew there was no way- even with his toes hooked over the end and his body fully extended, the saber wouldn't yield so easily. And that's when it hit him.
        Kneeling on the platform, he took a deep breath, tapping into the Force.
        There were so many images of her, so many stolen moments of happiness in a world that knew only of hate. Yet, one stood out: something Master Plo had said, ages ago when she had been lost and captured, and Anakin had almost given up hope he'd ever see her again.
        "I am suggesting that perhaps, if you have trained her well, she shall take care of herself, and find a way back to you."
        At that moment, the lightsaber flew end over end through the cold night and snapped into Anakin's hand.

Chapter Text

        He left the underworld of Coruscant, speeding closer and closer to the lights of the Jedi Temple, as he retraced the steps of a mission that had somehow left him less broken than before.
        Anakin Skywalker had completed his mission, but he wasn't ready to rest just yet.
        He pulled up to the clone barracks on the speeder bike, carefully stashing it where he'd found it in the corner of the racks of bikes, some rusty and ancient like his, and some brand new, although those were almost all out being used. He glanced at the rental form he hadn't bothered to fill out and snorted. Sometimes, as his "snippy" former Padawan would say, following direct orders wasn't the best way to solve a problem.
        It was late when the senatorial taxi finally brought him back to Padmé's suite that the newlyweds shared. He paid the driver, a silent Quarren who was clearly very eager to get home, and stepped out into the bustling city.
        Coruscant was beautiful at night, even if it was a hollow beauty compared to the magnificent nights on Naboo next to the fire, or even the infinite stars in the blackness of Tatooine. The colored lights painted a dotted landscape of life and chaotic majesty, a grand scope of beings lighting up the night. Even if the artificialness of it didn't quite match nature, Anakin mused as he swiped his key card and entered the apartment, the beauty of one being in particular more than made up for it.
        "Anakin! Did you get the saber? I thought you were supposed to be back sooner, I've got a senate meeting tomorrow with Bail. I was about to go to sleep," Padmé Amidala strode out from the bedroom, and Anakin couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face. Padmé could be formidable when she was angry, but Anakin absolutely adored the disgruntled face she wore when she was worried about him. He tried not to make her concerned, obviously, but it was nice to know that she cared.
        "Yeah, I got it. Try not to worry so much about me," he smirked, and she swatted his arm. The knowing smile on her face, though, wore a different story.
        "You didn't have to wait up for me, Padmé. I know how much strain you're under, you really need the rest," Anakin chastised her.
        "I can handle it. You, on the other hand, look dead on your feet. What in the galaxy happened to you?" she asked, clearly hoping for details. Anakin held back.
        "Doesn't really matter. I'm just glad I got it back," he evaded. Padmé frowned, a crease appearing between eyes filled with determination. But she didn't question him further, just nodded and let him go over to the utilitarian desk he kept in the corner of the main living area, which he used when work from the Council followed him home like a Loth cat in the street.
        "It's right here," she murmured, flipping open the lid of a discreet wooden box.
        Inside, the shoto's twin gleamed on the sleek wood, like an old friend. Or the memory of one, perhaps. Anakin had done this routine of find-the-lightsaber already before, going deep into the warehouse when his Padawan had been forced to duel her best friend, Barriss Offee, to find the first. Anakin pulled the smaller lightsaber out from where he'd kept it safe on his belt, and placed the two side by side. The shoto had carbon-scoring along the sides, and sticky fingerprints marked the metal. Padmé smiled, but there were jewels of water in the corners of her eyes.
        "She never was very good about keeping them clean," the senator commented.
        "I did try and teach her, you know," Anakin told his wife. "But she always said, 'What's the point when I'm just going to go into battle and get them dirty again?'"
        "Why does that sound like someone I know?" Padmé said. "I'll let you get to work. There're extra meilooruns in the fridge if you're hungry- you missed dinner."
        "Alright, now get some sleep," Anakin mumbled, already going over the supplies he'd gathered. Padmé kissed him, and his fingers brushed the top of her ever-growing stomach as the two bade each other goodnight. After Padmé had gone to bed, Anakin went to the food prep area and grabbed some oi-oi puffs- there was no way he was going healthy tonight. On second thought, he grabbed the meilooruns as well and went to work.
        Coruscant was just beginning to grey with the light of its star when Anakin looked up from his work, at last satisfied. He set aside the polishing cloth and buffing oil, looking at the gleaming lightsabers of his Padawan. The carbon scoring had been tricky, but thankfully a little cleaning agent and a steel sponge had gotten the blade handles almost new. He'd picked off the mud and dirt, tried his best to fill in the scratches and nicks in them, until they were almost as good as they had been when she'd first brought them back from the Gathering.
        Almost. As the sharp morning broke into the sky above the hyperlanes, Anakin Skywalker carefully tapped into the Force, and the lightsabers began to unknit themselves into bits and pieces of shining, beautiful metal. Anakin opened his eyes, then set the sabers down into the palms of his hands. It was a bit dangerous to take apart another Jedi's lightsaber- they were tuned so specifically to their owners. If you didn't do it with extreme care, it could, at best, be impossible to put back together, or at worst backfire when you tried to ignite it. But Anakin knew his Padawan. Or at least, he knew who she had been.
        He wanted her back, even now, not knowing who she had become.
        The lightsabers half-open, he gingerly removed the two bits of kyber, sparking in the Force. These, he wouldn't touch. Simply cleaning them with a corner of the polishing cloth, he replaced them snug into their bed of metal. It might have been Anakin's bleary, exhausted brain, but he could have sworn that the crystals winked at him happily as the lightsabers clinked into themselves.
        "Anakin," Padmé called, walking in from the food prep area. "There's a message from the Council for you."
        "Can you tell them I'll get to it?" Anakin said over his shoulder, as he carefully set the sabers into their box.
        "Anakin- it's urgent," Padmé called again, but this time there was a quaver in her soft voice. He immediately set down the wooden container with a mellow thunk and rushed into the room. Padmé was holding out a datapad, with a summons from- Master Windu?
        "The Separatists, Count Dooku, they've-" but Anakin had already scanned the datapad, his gaze turning dark and frigid cold. "They've kidnapped the Chancellor."
        Several hours, nine hurried holograms, and one goodbye to Padmé later, Anakin was on yet another senatorial taxi, this time directly to the Temple. Strangely, it was the same Quarren driver from the night before, and he was still just as surly and impatient. That was fine with Anakin, he had too much on his mind for conversation.
        He looked out at the sunrise over the city and yawned. His mind felt like it was filled with sand, and that mental image made him flinch. Still, was it his fault that the Separatists had chosen the one day he happened to be a little sleep-deprived to kidnap the Chancellor? He made a mental note to grab a cup of strong caf from maintenance before he and Obi-Wan headed out.
He wondered where his former Padawan was now. Whether she was looking up through the same hazy morning light, the sun piercing through her brain as well.
        He did know that wherever she was, whatever she was doing, whoever she decided to become: Anakin would be there for her. She was out there forging her own path, and he'd made his peace with it. The master and apprentice had a connection that wasn't easily broken, and the Force would bond their stories together. So he'd watch, and wait, and let the Force guide them. And Anakin Skywalker had a feeling that someday, their destinies would cross again.
        He pulled out the lightsabers that he would always carry with him now, and opened the box. Humming softly to himself, he let the energy of the universe spring open the shoto blade, the one that had shown him everything, and examined the kyber crystal. It shone fiercer than a shooting star, and more powerful than a battle cruiser's hyperdrive. Anakin watched her through the kyber, and gradually, slowly, his apprentice began to burn with a new light that was all her own.
        "May the Force be with you, Ahsoka," he whispered.
         The taxi moved into a different hyperspace lane, and sped on.

Chapter Text

        The scum of Corescant that dared to cross him as he strode through the lower levels were easily dealt with.
        The scum of Sidious' thoughts, however, were not disposed of as easily.
        Usually, the master of Sith tried to avoid these levels, it was far too complicated to not attract attention here. Sidious had his cover, after all, and if that cover was blown too soon, it would be- catastrophic, in a word. But it was nothing he could not recover from. He had survived before, and this time he had allies, and pawns, beings that could be bent like hot doonium to his will.
        Except for one.
        And he would be Sidious' doom unless the dark lord acted.
        The lighting pulsed around and around in a blur of vision as Darth Sidious slipped into the alleyway and into the heart of the darkness. The contact he'd needed was already there.
        "Do you have it?" the young Mirialan asked.
        "Of course, my dear. And the information that we agreed upon?"
        "I have everything except for the coordinates-" She was cut off as the Sith lord lifted her into the deathly dance of a Force choke. He had too much rage accumulated for it to be contained, and this was simply the latest in a long, long list of disappointments.
        "That was not our agreement," he hissed. Surprisingly, the Mirialan kept her cool.
        "I figured you might say that. Which is why I brought something better," she stammered.
        Sidious sighed. It was far too often that his pawns brought him "better" information, and too often it turned out to be hopelessly muddled, insignificant, or in some cases, deadly. He tightened the grip he had on the dark shadow of the Force.
        "You're going to have to do better than that," he snarled. Now the Mirialan looked truly frightened.
        "It's true! I was on Oba Diah trying to locate the one you wanted, and I heard that there was-" the grip around her throat tightened- "please, I swear, it's the truth!" she gasped. "A Togruta- her name was Ahsoka-" and the girl fell to the ground, gasping.
        Ahsoka Tano. Sidious hadn't heard of her whereabouts in some time, but evidently she was still out there. Still fighting.
        And that could ruin everything.
        "Tell me everything," Sidious hissed. Surprisingly, the pathetic girl had recovered her wits.
        "And what do I get out of it? Our original agreement won't suffice-" and she was caught again in the deadly dance, writhing and turning in the air. Sidious walked up and grabbed her by the chin, pulling her close to the dark space of his hood, but not close enough that his true identity would be revealed.
        "You walk out of here alive," he growled in a voice tense with hatred. The Mirialan gulped.
        "Like I said, I was on Oba Diah, I'd tracked him that far. And I was trying to get around in the usual ways, but every passageway that was once secure was being patrolled. All any of the Pykes were talking about was this prison break, two sisters and the Togruta. Apparently they'd been in charge of delivering some spice- I don't know the details- and got caught trying to weasel out of it." She waited to see if the retribution she feared was coming. The dark lord of the Sith arched an eyebrow, not that she could see.
        "Interesting. Continue," he said, loosening his grip on the Force.
        "That's really all I- wait. I do remember that the one you wanted was talking to the Pykes. It seemed like they were working together, and that he was in charge. I overheard the Pykes discussing it with their leader,"the Mirialan said.
        "Did you track the prisoners once they had escaped?"
        "I did, I put a homing beacon on their ship."
        "And?"
        The Mirialan looked thoughtful, and she chose her words carefully, having gotten this far.
        "At first, it seemed as if they were simply heading back to Corescant. But I don't think that the Togruta stayed there, maybe the sisters did- but not her."
        The Sith nodded, and then pulled out the bag of credits they had originally agreed on.
        "You did well. But think about what you are doing next time you come to me with partial information," the evil one said. And he let a little more than a quarter of the credit chips spill out of the bag and down into a sewer grate beneath their feet. "Next time, you will not be so lucky."
        The Mirialan bowed, took the credits offered to her, and cautiously began to back away. When she was what she considered a safe distance away from him, she turned and fled into the underworlds of the galactic city, skirt billowing behind her as she put as much distance between her and the Sith lord as possible. That was fine with Palpatine, for the moment. He had bigger problems, she would be easily dealt with soon enough, and the Mirialan was a useful pawn in the time being.
        Pawns. He'd accumulated quite a few of them over the years. Some more intelligent than others, some he kept only for their reliable stupidity. Some who would kneel at his cause, and others who were only in it for themselves and the credits. Some he'd ruled with compassion, and others with fear. He'd kept some in the dark, as far away from his true nature as possible, holding out at arm's length and misdirecting his true intentions. And others he'd brought in close, almost to the very heart of his plans, though never allowing any one being to know the full scope of his vision.
        Now, he mused, there were certain pawns in certain places that could spell disaster.
        And those he had to obliterate.
        Getting out his private data pad, he scanned in the card that contained the information he'd wanted. Searching through, looking for patterns that could prove useful. But he wasn't truly paying attention.
        So. He was on Oba Diah. With the Pyke syndicate in hand.
        The one who Sidious had cast aside, perhaps foolishly, and now needed to locate.
        Maul.
        When he had taken Maul in as his apprentice, he had never expected this. Maul and Skywalker were more alike than they knew, in some ways- easily manipulated, simple to use in the chessboard he'd created throughout the galaxy. He had never guessed, though, that after Maul had served his purpose, and been wiped out by Kenobi, he would continue.
        Much as he had never guessed that the little boy from Tatooine, the keystone of his master plan, the Chosen One who would bring balance to the Force, might one day take an apprentice of his own.
        Maul...and Ahsoka Tano. Wild cards, each of them. Reckless, fierce, and formidable fighters- now out from under the protection of the powerful forces that had once guided their hands. He had hoped for that, of course. With Tano framed for the Temple murder, convicted and then let go, she was away from the Jedi Order and leaving Skywalker even more vulnerable than before. And Maul was cast away from Sidious' side, able and willing to wreak vengeance and destruction upon the galaxy, and in turn the people's already crumbling faith in the Jedi.
        Anakin Skywalker was weak, easily manipulated by his attachments and conflicting emotions.
        Tano and Maul had no such qualms.
        He had hoped that in moving them away from their orders, they would be where he needed them to be when the time came. But not now, and not where they had allies readily available.
        Pawns were useful, but only to a point. Only when they were separate, only when they needed him, relied on him, could he use them to reach his goals.
        Tano and Maul had once had a purpose that served him unwittingly, and which he must now utterly annihilate if his scheme was to succeed.
        For when pawns banded together, rallied as allies?
        Even a king could fall.

Chapter Text

        The scum of the Senate’s petty arguments that disturbed Palpatine as he waded through endless paperwork were not easy to dispose of.
        The scum of Palpatine’s thoughts, however, would be simple to dissolve.
        The Chancellor of the Galactic Senate sat in his office building, musing over scores of bills that had piled up in his absence. He liked to keep his work area neat, but the pesky Senatorial aides never took the time to properly set all of the new propositions and various petty squabbles of the Senate neatly onto his desk. Of course, he had other reasons for trying to keep the smooth, metallic workspace as neat as possible- he couldn’t risk anything falling into the wrong hands.
        He frowned at the newest article he held in his weathered hand. Resolution B5328-NB. The code at the end indicated that it had been submitted by a senator from Naboo, and Palpatine was confident that he knew exactly which one.
        Sure enough, not a moment after he’d set down the document, one of his guards stiffened and turned.
        “Chancellor, Senator Amidala is requesting an audience.”
        Palpatine rubbed his temples.
        “Are there other senators with her?”
        “No, Chancellor. She appears to be alone.”
        The face of the Galactic Republic sighed.
        “Very well, let her in.” This was going to put a wrench in things. But Padmé was another pawn that had proven to be exceptionally useful. Compassionate, idealistic, and, most importantly- one of the few proven ties to Anakin Skywalker.
        The guard pressed the control panel, and Padmé Amidala, Senator for the sovereign system of Naboo, walked in. Elegant and eloquent as always, today she sported a dark jacket and slacks embroidered with traditional blue-gold Naboo stitchery. Her hair was tied up in a severe bun covered in a golden net of chains, accenting the heavy golden jewelry that made up the rest of her ensemble. She must have just come from the Senate floor, and clearly she was not here to play the traditional games politics usually required. Palpatine fought to keep the anger out of his face.
        “Senator Amidala, what an unexpected pleasure,” he smiled.
        Padmé didn’t smile back.
        “Chancellor, I’m sorry to be taking up so much of your time. But I have just raised my newest proposition to the Senate floor, and I was hoping that you and I could discuss the merits of such action on behalf of the Republic before the vote goes to committee tomorrow,” Amidala said, keeping her face polite. But Palpatine could still feel the cold tension she held in the air.
        “Of course, my dear, I was just looking at it- Resolution B5328, was it not?”
        “Yes, your Excellency. As you are no doubt aware, I’ve been an active member in basic rights for beings for many years now,” the senator replied smoothly.
        Palpatine tried to make his smile carry just enough kindness and sincerity. Yes, he was well aware of Padmé’s actions, and although it would have been simpler to have her out of the way(indeed, he’d tried it), it was something he had learned to deal with and, occasionally, exploit.
        Maybe this was one of those times.
        “You are, of course, referring to the clone personhood dilemma that has cropped up in recent times?”
        “Well, yes, Chancellor. We’ve relied heavily on our brave troops in the Grand Army of the Republic. Over the years that we’ve been fighting this terrible game with the Separatists, the clones have become more than soldiers-they’ve become beings in their own right.” She straightened up as she reached the climax of her argument. “Resolution B5328 legally recognizes all clone troopers as citizens of the galaxy, and affords them the same rights and protections as non-engineered citizens. It will be a groundbreaking achievement in the fight for clone personhood.” Amidala looked directly at Sheev as she finished her plea.
        And that it was. A plea, and surely a futile one. The Chancellor stood.
        “Walk with me, Senator.” He gestured to the windows. Padmé looked, for a moment, as if she was about to argue, but then strode over to the window. The two examined the heart of Coruscant, and the mid-noon traffic whizzing by.
        “I think you have already seen, my dear, why I cannot in good conscience support such a resolution. Even if it comes from a place of honesty and decency- which I applaud you for- I doubt the Senate will see it that way,” he smiled, patting her arm.
        “I don’t see any risks that aren’t manageable, Your Excellency,” she added. “Most of what I’m proposing already has years of precedent in law.”
        “Of course, Senator, and therein lies the problem. Aside from the social dilemma that would be created, you would propose giving clones the same access to basic public amenities. Precious tax credits, resources of every planet- can you see why the Senate might find such measures objectionable?” He strode back to his desk, and Senator Amidala followed. “I am afraid that, as much as it pains me, my hands are tied. Although I wish I could support this measure, I simply cannot give sway to such a controversial topic until it is drawn out more completely. Certainly not ‘till after the war.”
        And by that time, no one would agree that the clones deserved any mercy.
        Ever the politician, Amidala simply smiled. “Well then. I am sorry we could not reach a more valuable conclusion, but I nevertheless thank you for your time.”
        “Oh, I can always make time for you, my dear. And as a private citizen and, I hope, an old friend- I am glad to see you taking such strides. Rest assured that you have my private support,” he smiled. Padmé smiled and bowed.
        “Thank you for the audience, Your Excellency. If you’ll excuse me, I have urgent news for Master Kenobi and Master Skywalker on the front lines. I’ll convey your greetings, if I may,” she told the Chancellor.
        Palpatine straightened, and it was only from long years of practice that his face remained pleasant, mildly concerned.
        “Where are Master Kenobi and Skywalker these days?”
        Padmé frowned, but then, stepping forward and speaking in a softer tone-
        “I’ve had word from both of them. They’re on Mandalore, Excellency, tracking down an old enemy- the renegade lord Maul,” she whispered. “And- again, as an old friend- they appear to have made contact with Anakin’s former Padawan.”
        Palpatine won the struggle to keep his hate and anger in check.
        But barely.
        “Really. Skywalker’s Padawan, Ahsoka- Tano, wasn’t it?” Padmé nodded affirmation. “Well, do give them my regards. And thank you for stopping by, Senator, but I just remembered I have some urgent business to attend to. I’ll see you in the Chamber.”
        Padmé, looking disappointed but resolute, bowed deeply and left the office. As soon as she was out the door, Palpatine nodded to the other guard in the room. The guard sealed off the door using a panel concealed behind a portrait, and the blinds went down.
        When the room was in near total darkness and the activities within would be thoroughly concealed, Palpatine went over to one of the seating areas and pulled up the third cushion from the right. Inside the furniture was a hidden compartment, and from this he took a long, dark robe, throwing it over his usual senatorial finery.
        “Barriss Offee,” he commanded the holoprojector built into his desk as he strode back over. He sat down just in time.
        The slight form of the Mirilian appeared before him.
        “This is an unexpected gift, Lord Sidious,” the girl said in her clipped accent
        “Don’t waste time with the pleasantries, my dear,” Palpatine returned coldly. All of the darkness that he’d kept so carefully hidden was beginning to unravel. “What information have you been receiving about Mandalore?”
        “My hypothesis was correct, my lord. The former Jedi-” her voice cracked- “Ahsoka Tano has been confirmed to be working closely with the insurgent Bo Katan.”
        “And the Republic?”
        “Staying out of the way for now, my lord, given Mandalore’s neutrality,” she spat. “But I knew Skywalker and Tano- I knew Ahsoka personally. It won’t stay that way long.”
        “Thank you, my dear. And Maul?”
        “I’ve only heard rumors, of course. But what I learned on Oba Diyah seems to be matching up so far,” she answered smoothly.
        “Good. I’m sending you a contact- get a ship and go to her immediately. Your mission is to recapture Maul- at any cost. You’ll be covering as his getaway. Comm me when the job is done,” he spat.
        Offee paled, but nodded.
        “Rest assured...if you fail me in any way, the punishment will be your life on my hands,” he hissed. Barriss paled even more at this pronouncement, but managed a stuttering curtsy and the hologram blinked away.
        It took Palpatine a few minutes to collect his thoughts into order, time he used to wipe away all records of the holocall. By the time he’d finished mopping up the last trace of it from his personal database, he had an answer.
        In the past, he’d needed pawns to keep him in the game. For protection, for alliances, and for favors. Now, however, the board was plain to see. If Sheev himself was to be the king, he would need to systematically destroy these former assets, now opponents. But he was far too careful to have the blood on his own hands. No, he needed to pit them against each other, let them be locked in endless combat that would destroy them both.
        Tano and Maul were simply too dangerous to be kept alive any longer. He was confident in his ability to capture Maul, he’d bested him once before on Mandalore, along with that brute Savage. Kings would always best pawns at any rate, that was part of Palpatine’s reason to choose them. It made no sense to have servants stronger than himself. Tano would attempt to involve the Jedi, which was somewhat of a risk. The Jedi, of course, would refuse any infringement on the treaties that separated the Republic from Mandalore. But the trio’s loyalty and attachments could make things a bit tricky.
        “Ironic,” Palpatine mused to himself. For Skywalker and Kenobi’s emotions toward the wayward Padawan could, in the end, save the whole endeavor. Anakin would inevitably want to go help Ahsoka, and Kenobi would inevitably go with him. Kenobi also had his own reasoning to want Maul dead. Kenobi was less susceptible to the strings Palpatine tried to pull- but that was part of the reason he’d sent Maul after Kenobi and his master all those years ago. Kenobi was far too sensitive to that long-ago pain. And that would be his downfall.
        But Palpatine was far too cautious to rely on the Jedi pawns to reach his goals. However, even if they didn’t go to Mandalore- so much the better. Tano and Maul would almost certainly destroy each other, which would handily put both of them out of the way. If by some miracle one of them survived, he had Barriss on hand.
        The issue would be if his little pawns decided to change their destinies. If they decided that it was time for the king to topple. If they joined together. Tano and Maul, as allies? Some would think it improbable.
        But that did not mean that it was impossible.
        The Chancellor turned on the holoprojector once again.
        “General Grievous,” he commanded. The hologram flared with blue light.
        The metallic overlord appeared moments later. He appeared to be on his ship, The Invisible Hand. Grandstanding, to be sure, but it would suit very nicely for Sheev’s purpose.
        “My master,” Grievous wheezed. “How may I serve?”
        “Events have recently been set in motion that are...unexpected,” Sheev Palpatine responded. He pitched his voice so all of the malice modulated the tone to make it unrecognizable. “We must set my kidnapping sooner than anticipated.”
        Grievous looked surprised, but accepted it with a nod.
        “The Hand will be battle-ready within the hour, my lord,” he wheezed again.
        “Good. Stage your attack for the main Senate building,” the Chancellor said with an oily smile. “This war will come to an end very soon, my friend.”
        “Excellent,” Grievous replied. “I look forward to the dawn of our new empire.” He was seized by a round of hacking, but bowed to the Chancellor before cutting off the hologram.
        Chancellor Sheev Palpatine of the Galactic Republic sat back in his chair and smiled beneath the hood of his cloak. Yes, it would be the dawn of a new empire.
        But it would be his alone.
        And with the Republic’s king stolen right off the board?
        He would have created a perfect opportunity to destroy every single pawn.

Chapter Text

        Aayla always looked for the best in people. And she was usually right.
        She was there when tiny Caleb Dume pulled Master Billaba out of her bacta-filled coma, the two needing the light and life that drew the master and apprentice together in the Force. She witnessed the push-and-pull of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, and how much Obi-Wan wanted to be the perfect Padawan. And she saw him fight to be the perfect master, for Anakin, who Aayla never doubted was the Chosen One. She recommended Shaak Ti to be the Jedi general on Kamino, because she’d seen how much her colleague cared for the men under her. She wasn’t naive, she knew that the universe wasn’t perfect, and that beings weren’t either. But Aayla had trust in the Force, and she had her faith that light was stronger than the dark.
        Which was why she hesitated to incriminate the Jedi Order for entering the Clone Wars in the first place. But since then, everything seemed to have gone so desperately wrong.
        The Jedi were meant to keep the peace. And war was the exact opposite of peace. Aayla had seen what war could do to people, how it could break them, and make things so that they were never the same. She tried to see the good in people, but war leeched it out of them.
        And the Force was clouded. She’d had dozens of conversations. With Master Plo, with Master Yoda, with anyone she thought would listen. But the majority of the Jedi Council still believed in winning the war at all costs, and they couldn’t sense the danger.
Aayla just hoped that they wouldn’t sense it too late.
        “Master Secura!” Aayla spun around, hearing a familiar tone, but laced with grave fear. She scanned the hall of the Temple she’d been pacing to see Kit Fisto running up to her.
        “Aayla, they’ve caught the person behind the Temple bombing, it’s-” he paused, breathing hard. Aayla wasn’t sure if it was because he’d been running or if it was because he didn’t know how to tell her the news.
        “It’s Ahsoka, Aayla, it’s Ahsoka and they’ve caught her. She’s going to be put on trial!”
        Aayla put her fingertips to her mouth in shock.
        “When did this happen? I was only on assignment for two rotations!” She’d been sent out directly after the bombing of the Temple, through heavy protests. She hadn't been willing to abandon the Jedi, who she had dedicated her life to, over a tense situation. Public opinion was not exactly in favor of the Order at the moment- another reason Aayla regretted the course they'd taken. If they weren't here to serve and protect the beings of the galaxy, what were they doing?
        But she was a warrior, and she knew how to follow orders. So she'd taken the assignment two rotations ago, trusting the Jedi that were tasked with catching the criminal to protect her home.
        Never, ever, would she have expected this.
        "This lady they captured, I don't remember her name, was in custody. She was their only lead, and Skywalker and Ahsoka were interrogating her. Ahsoka was in the cell with her, and the video feed showed-" Kit looked devastated. "Commander Tano executed her with a Force choke, the video feed confirmed it. After that she went on the run, and Skywalker was ordered to capture her...dead or alive," the Nautolan said calmly. But Aayla knew her friend, and that kind of calm gravitas in his voice was something the Jedi master only ever used when he was going into battle.
        The kind of battle where he was absolutely destructive to anything that got in his way.
        "And then they caught her, just last night," Kit Fisto continued. "Tarkin wanted to put her on trial before the Senate, but Master Yoda said that it was an internal affair. But Tarkin wouldn't budge, so now she's going to both."
        "Can they even do that?" Aayla whispered through the shock. But the initial numbness was starting to fade, replaced only by an ever-growing dread.
        Aayla knew Padawan Tano. And Ahsoka was one of their best. Compassionate, fearless, and quick-witted- Ahsoka was one of the best up-and-coming they had. Aayla remembered one of the missions she'd been on with the Padawan learner. Anakin had been gravely injured, and Ahsoka had asked Aayla about the difference between attachment and compassion. It was a lesson that Aayla had learned the hard way, and it hurt to see the young Togruta have to go through something similar. But she'd learned in a day what it had taken Aayla years to understand.
        The Ahsoka that Aayla knew would never even consider doing this. The Ahsoka Aayla knew had been forged in this war like no other Padawan Aayla had seen, remaining resilient while keeping her mentality strong. The Ahsoka she knew had gone to the Citadel willingly, because she knew that her master would need her. The Ahsoka she knew ate holding her fork backward, because "it just feels better that way," and worked out in the gym with the clones, laughing and talking, just teasing each other playfully. Ahsoka had saved younglings from pirates, and from Trandoshan, had refused to kill Barriss Offee, her best friend, when she was possessed, and had learned "to fight like myself" from Master Yoda. Ahsoka Tano had gone up against droids, capital ships, senators, and Grand Masters. She'd put more effort into her training than Aayla ever had at her age. And Ahsoka had never turned away from someone in need. So why would she now?
        And then it clicked, and Aayla could breathe again.
        "She didn't do this," she stated. "Ahsoka wouldn't do this. Ever."
        Master Fisto simply nodded. "I know.”
        “When is her trial?”
        “The Jedi Council is convening right now, but she’ll need to be brought up to the Chamber of Judgement. We must hurry if we are to reach the masters before they enter the chamber.”
        So Aayla started running. At first it was a brisk walk, purposeful but not noticeable enough to attract attention. Then a light jog, and now she could see stares from students and younglings as she turned through the corridors, Master Fisto keeping pace beside her.
        “If Ahsoka didn’t do it, then who did?” Aayla asked.
        “She was found conspiring with Asaji Ventress, near a warehouse where the 501st discovered boxes of the nanodroids used in the explosion. So that is another possibility,” Fisto added.
        “But you don’t sound convinced,” Aayla pushed.
        “Well, unfortunately, General Skywalker claims she and Ventress were working together when he found them, though I’m not sure if she wasn’t under duress. Leaving that idea mostly out of the question,” he panted. Aayla was moving faster.
        “Is there anyone on the Council who seems open to acquitting?”
        “Master Plo, obviously. He and Ahsoka have always been close, and he did say that he didn’t believe Ahsoka could have fallen so far. But Master Windu is pushing hard for her expulsion from the Order. I don’t know what anyone else thinks,” Kit Fisto said.
        “We have to do something. I don’t know what we can do, there’s just so little evidence-”
        “And we might not make it in time-” The rest of whatever Fisto was trying to say was swept away. Now Aayla was in a dead sprint, which for a trained Jedi with the power of the Force flowing through her was incredibly fast.
        She knew it was probably futile. The evidence she’d heard from Kit was pretty iron-clad.
        But there was a chance. There was always a chance.
        Because Aayla always looked for the best in people.
        She flew down the hallway, not caring about the strange looks she was receiving from the few knights wandering the hallway, breathing into the Force-
        And then suddenly she slammed hard into a dark, imposing figure. Scrambling back up to her feet, she saw it was Master Skywalker. Ahsoka’s master.
        “I’m sorry, masters,” he murmured.
        Aayla had seen Anakin react in a lot of ways to the world. Working as hard as he could, recklessness, sadness, even something close to anger. But now? He just seemed lost.
        “There wasn’t anything you could have done, the evidence-” he broke off, throat thick with emotions hidden like gold treasures in the sand. “The evidence was against her from the beginning, and I think they were already decided by the time…” Anakin trailed off, and said no more.
        Aayla felt like she’d been punched in the gut, and judging by Master Fisto’s face, he did too.
        “I don’t know what I thought we could do,” she said. “I just know she’s innocent. I can’t explain, it’s less than a thought. But I just can’t believe the Council would do that.”
        Anakin nodded, his face looking blank. “I have to go,” he threw out.
        “Why don’t we go see Master Kenobi? He can probably tell us more,” Kit mentioned.
        And Aayla was left alone in the Temple, with an Order that was broken, a master and apprentice who were lost, and little more than hope and faith that the Force would set things right.
        “Ahsoka,” she said out loud.
        “Let’s bring you home.”

Chapter Text

        Aayla used to look for the best in people. But she wasn’t always right.

        Over the days to come, she saw things that would have been unimaginable just a scant few years ago. The death of Satine Kryze, the ruler of Mandalore, at the hand of renegade Sith Lord Maul- with Obi Wan forced to watch her dying breaths. The tragedy of her friend Shaak Ti on Kamino, with the clones Tup and Fives turning upon their Jedi. Master Yoda hearing voices, whether from the dark side of the Force or not, and leaving the Temple, coming back with only a heavy heart and misgivings- misgivings Aayla shared. And of course, the absence of the Force. 

        Aayla could no longer feel the Force. She still retained some awareness, and her skill as a warrior ensured that none of her men would notice the difference. But the deepest mysteries of the universe were lost to her mind. Aayla Secura was now a Jedi in name only.

        It hurt her more than anything in her life up to this point. And it only reaffirmed to her that the Jedi should never have entered the Clone Wars. They were poking holes in the democracy, justice, and peace that they had sworn to protect. 

        Worst of all, they had darkened the life force of the galaxy with death and destruction.

        If they had broken the Code that badly, how could there be any victory at all?

        It was with a heavy heart that Aayla took the mission to Felucia. The campaign was a hard one, but Commander Bly and his men performed admirably under the heavy fire. Aayla was at the front line, every blaster bolt she deflected nudging at her like a warning. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong , her mind sang to her.

        It was a relief when a trooper ran up and told her that the Council was going to be in session later that day, if she could spare time from her front.

        Later, as she brushed the native dust of Felucia from her tunic, Aayla hurried to the center of command. Ducking her lekku under the command module's entrance, she keyed for the hologram imagery.

        "Thank you, boys," she added absentmindedly to the clones guarding the entrance. The two men saluted her and exited the compound, closing the heavy door behind them as they took their posts outside.

        The Jedi Council sprang to life, although attendance was minimal. Only Master Yoda, Master Mundi, and Master Windu, as well as Knight Skywalker, had been able to take time from the various battles raging across the Outer Rim.

        "Master Windu, may I interrupt?" a voice interjected as Commander Cody of the 212th flickered into view.

        "General Kenobi has made contact with General Grievous, and we have begun our attack."

        "Thank you, Commander," Mace Windu replied. Cody nodded, flickering out of view. Mace began to brief Skywalker on his report to the Chancellor, but Aayla shivered. The dark side...it was so close, and yet so far away. The news from Utapau was gratifying, but hardly a major victory. The Jedi had been this close to ending the Clone Wars before, and Grievous, not to mention Dooku, had slipped through their palms like the greasy scum they were. Aayla took a couple deep breaths, disturbed by those words that had slipped into her mind unbidden. Perhaps it was the presence of the Sith Lord, or maybe it was the ever-growing cloud of darkness that every battle and lost fight seemed to be contributing to. 

        Aayla brought her attention back to the meeting. Skywalker had left, evidently to deliver the news to the Chancellor personally. Mace Windu looked grave as he stepped forward.

        "I sense a plot to destroy the Jedi," he intoned in his deep voice. "The dark side of the Force surrounds the Chancellor."

        Aayla should have been hurt, outraged. She should have spoken out, telling Master Windu that this was what had concerned her all along. But she didn't. There was no longer any time.

        Master Ki Adi Mundi, however, did.

        "If he does not give up his emergency powers after the destruction of Grievous, then he should be removed from office!"

        Master Windu shook his head. "The Jedi Council would have to take control of the Senate in order to secure a peaceful transition," he noted.

        Suddenly, Master Yoda spoke up. He usually stayed out of Council meetings, only giving his thoughts on topics of great importance or when the Council was divided in the extreme. Aayla was of the opinion that he was well aware that the Council respected his views to the point where they would obey him without debate, and that Yoda wanted to keep the Council as a place of democracy.

        "To a dark place this line of thought could take us, mmmhhh," he mumbled. "Great care we must take." Aayla looked over, and the green being's wizened face was taut with concern.

        Yoda was right. The worst of the world was coming, and neither the Jedi, nor the clones, or even the Senate would be prepared to meet it. 

        That was when the door swung open. The last person Aayla would have expected to see.

        Ahsoka Tano, former Padawan of the Jedi Order, strode confidently into the room. She was a bit taller than Aayla remembered, her montrals and lekku were taller and longer as well.

        But for everything the world had thrown at her- and it had done its worst- Ahsoka Tano still carried herself with the strength, determination, and caring that Aayla fought so hard for.

        She entered the command module- most likely onboard a Republic cruiser. Captain Rex entered behind him, carrying his helmet with stoic professionalism. Behind that, however, Aayla could see his true facial expression. Rex was smiling so hard it was a wonder he was able to keep calm. 

        "I understand your mission was a success," Master Windu said by way of greeting.

        "Yes," Ahsoka stated, and then she said, "I have Maul in custody."

        Aayla began to recover from the initial shock of seeing her wayward friend again, just to be hit with the thermal detonator of all information. Darth Maul, in custody?! Already?! Aayla knew about the mission to Mandalore, she'd been briefed earlier by a very disgruntled Council, with Obi-Wan and Anakin being delighted to have their way. But this soon? Aayla's already high estimation of Tano rose another couple of notches.

        "I will escort Commander Rex when he delivers him to Coruscant," she went on. Aayla frowned. Commander? Apparently Rex had received a promotion.

        "A great service to the Republic, you have done," Master Yoda said, inclining his head to Ahsoka.

        Ahsoka hesitated just briefly, it was the kind of thing only a Jedi could see, even Jedi with diminished Force powers. "I did my duty as a citizen," she responded.

        Master Yoda looked up at her with large eyes. Aayla glanced over too, as Yoda inquired, "Not as a Jedi." He phrased it as a statement, but all the Council could see the hopeful question within.

        Ahsoka Tano looked heartbroken, and Aayla could feel the emotion swelling within her as well. The goodness inside people, inside her, had failed. And Aayla could feel the fight between her personal feelings about the Order and her resolve to fix the Code fall to piece again.

        Eventually, Ahsoka tilted her head. "No," she whispered.

        But then she added, "Not yet."

        And Aayla could breathe again.

        The rest of the meeting went by in a blur. There was discussion of General Skywalker, Master Kenobi engaging Grievous on Utapau, and the war. Always the war.

        But this time, when Ahsoka mentioned that the war could be over soon, Aayla allowed herself to believe it. She allowed herself to dream of a world where the good in people outweighed the bad, where the Jedi could keep the peace, not destroy it, and where she could make this work. Where she would make it work. Because Ahsoka would not be gone forever. She believed that.

        Just... not yet.

        Eventually, the meeting came to a close. It was time to get back to the front.

        But before Aayla let her hologram blink away, she glanced at Ahsoka. Their eyes connected, the memories of times gone by flowing between them. Ahsoka crossed her arms, and slowly blinked a message of gratitude. Or at least that was how Aayla interpreted it.

        Aayla Secura bowed her head to her friend, lekku bobbing. Renewing a promise that she swore to keep.

        By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force.

        And by her belief of the good in people.

        When Aayla headed back out to the battlefield, she fought with ferocity and grace, hope and destruction. She fought with emotion and peace, passion and serenity, the likes of which she had never experienced before. Aayla and Commander Bly, along with her forces in the Grand Army of the Republic, fried the Separatists. Word had already spread among the ranks that the war was coming to an end, and there were triumphant yells as they gave the seppies a thorough routing.

        Aayla, for her part, felt more balanced than she had ever since the Force had been lost to her. She forged a strong path into the resistance, and her men, emboldened by their leader, followed.

        Aayla stopped at the entrance to a clearing, or what passed for one on Felucia, catching her breath. Among the colored ferns, she almost dared to smile-

        When she heard the click of blaster safeties behind her.

        Turning, she looked for Commander Bly, only to discover her ally and friend standing behind her with his DC-15A rifle trained onto her back.

        Aayla reached for her saber, but immediately the blaster bolts seared her skin, giving her no time to cry out in pain. She expected them to stop, but they just kept coming as she threw up her hands in a futile gesture of surrender.

        Strangely, as Aayla plummeted to the ground among the soft ferns, she felt at peace. She'd thought she'd feel like a failure. After all, hadn't she been unable to complete her mission? To finish off the war? Most importantly, hadn't she failed Ahsoka Tano?

        She wasn't, though. She wasn't ashamed- she was proud. Maybe people were good, maybe they weren't. But Aayla had brought out strength rather than weakness, hope rather than fear, and light rather than dark. 

        The worst forces in the universe had killed Aayla. But in the people she'd helped, or tried to help, in that moment of goodness- Aayla Secura would live on. 

        A final searing of light closed Aayla's eyes for the final time, and the blue-skinned Jedi entered the cosmic Force along with so many more in the Order.

        Aayla Secura died at the same moment that she finally lived; forever.

Chapter Text

        Captain Rex, CT-7567, of the 501st Legion under the command of General Anakin Skywalker, jammed his helmet over his head for what was to be one of the most important missions of his career. The stakes were high, and, no matter what- they could not be caught.

        They had to make this count.

        He signaled Kix and Jesse to start their run, marching swiftly down the hallway in search of the supplies they desperately needed. If they were lucky, he had timed it correctly, and the generals would still be in the war room. And if he was wrong...well, Rex had gotten out of several sticky situations before. He could do it again. 

        "Jesse, what's your status?" he said, scanning his post again for potential threats to the mission.

        "Approaching the target area now, sir," came the reply.

        "Copy that," Rex said, then shut down the comm channel. To anyone else, he would have appeared the perfect, loyal soldier- standing on guard against the wall, scanning for possible threats while awaiting to execute the next batch of orders. 

        Inwardly, however, he was tense against the dirty white of his armor, breathing heavily behind the royal blue accents of jaig eyes. Waiting for the worst.

        And then it came. Boots, down the corridor.

        "Kix, Jesse- you've got incoming. I'll try to stall," he hissed into the channel before cutting it off again. The steps were just seconds away from Rex when he made it back to attention at the wall.

        Generals Kenobi and Skywalker came, rounding the corner. Kenobi had his face in a gloved hand at something (probably stupid) that Skywalker had said, while the younger Jedi laughed his head off. At any other time, this would have been a welcomed sight in the midst of war. But this was the worst possible timing for this mission. And that was when Anakin spotted Rex.

        "Rex!" The normally calm, collected general scrambled the last couple of steps. "REX! Ahsoka- she's back, Rex, and alive, and you've gotta come right now, Ahsoka's back, Rex -"

        Suddenly, General Skywalker barreled right into his captain, who was already sweating over the state of the mission, and was almost knocked senseless as he was thrown into- a hug ?

        The clone army wasn't exactly brought up on affection. Practically their entire lives were sterilized of any sort of human emotion, it was easier that way. Over time, Rex and his brothers had to learn how to speak with this bizarre, speechless way of communicating. A clap on the shoulder here, a high-five sitting in the barracks. They were brothers, after all- the only family they'd ever had.

        Now, feeling the squeeze of his ribs and the clunk of General Skywalker's artificial hand on his pauldron, he mourned the idea that he'd had to wait this long for some kind of family.

        But now that he knew he was here, that he belonged- it seemed like the world opened into new colors.

        Colors . Damnit. Just as he remembered the real reason he was here, his comm started spitting static, and then- oh karabast. Kix's voice. 

        "Captain? We've acquired the materials; oh-" A steady stream of swearing emitted from both Kix and Jesse. The hug ended awkwardly as Anakin stepped back with an arched eyebrow and a look of utter confusion. Thankfully, Master Kenobi stepped forward.

        "Anakin, do try not to crush your chief officer to death before he has a chance to say hello to his commander again. Now, what exactly is going on here?" he directed the question to Rex.

        "Well..uh...sir!" Rex said, removing his helmet. "We were, uh, just- doing maintenance! On the mech droids...some of them needed, uh, a quick tune-up." He scratched the back of his head. Clones weren't very good at lying, given that it was in their genetics, but Rex could tell he was doing a horrendous job even by their standards.

        Of course, it really didn't help that at that moment, Kix, Jesse, and a newer brother they'd brought along to help out came crashing through the doors to the droid repair facility aboard the Resolute, arms full of paint in spray cylinders, stencil cuts, brushes, and all the supplies that, ordinarily, the mechanics and engineers used to spruce up the little astromechs. The new kid- who Rex was pretty sure didn't have a name yet, and he sure as heck didn't know his number- slipped on a cylinder of orange paint. The same color, Rex realized, as Commander Tano's distinct Togruta skin. Unfortunately, the shade of umber was their downfall. The kid went down hard. But not before crashing into Jesse, who stumbled into Kix, and soon the lot of them were stranded in the corridor with painting materials everywhere.

        For a moment, all was silent as the last paint cylinder wobbled its way to the sleek, soot-colored floor with the sound of metal on metal. A few clones had heard the commotion, and came rushing around the corner.

        Just in time for a random canister to decide to make Rex's carefully planned operation fall into even more disarray than it already had. Whether it was old, malfunctioning, or just plain bad luck, the results were the same: the can exploded, the top coming off and wildly spraying the wall with a brand new layer of hot pink paint. It clashed terribly, though that was probably the least of their problems.

        Rex sighed and hung his head as Master Kenobi surveyed the damage. General Skywalker just looked utterly shocked and was apparently struggling to hold back tears of laughter.

        The captain tried in vain to brush some pink mist from his uniform, mouthing at Jesse, Really? Hot pink? Jesse just shrugged and pointed to Kix, as if to indicate that this was all his fault.

        Finally, Obi-Wan Kenobi turned to Rex, and with the same amount of resigned dismay in his voice that the Kaminoan instructors used to give cadets who acted up every single meal, said:

        "Well, captain, would you mind telling us what exactly is actually going on here?"

        The only reply was a wheezing chuckle from behind him, as a doubled-over Anakin Skywalker finally lost it. Kix and Jesse nervously joined in, and soon all the clones present were rolling on the floor with laughter, Skywalker was leaning against the wall as he pressed a hand to aching ribs, and even Rex was wiping a tear or two of laughter from his face as he smiled so hard his cheekbones began to feel like a gundark was sitting on them. 

        "Sorry, sir," he began. "But Yularen told us Commander Tano was back, and, well...we wanted to do something for her."

        And although color bloomed across his face in embarrassment, he knew it was from the loyalty that filled his brothers' and his heart.

Chapter Text

        Captain Rex, CT-7567, of the 501st Legion under the command of General Anakin Skywalker, slipped his helmet off of his head for what was to be one of the most important missions of his career. The stakes were high, but this time they had help on their side.
        

       They were going to make this count.
        

       Around the barracks, total chaos had broken out. The 501st legion of the Grand Army of the Republic was engaged in a war of art. Jesse and Cody were throwing loaded paintbrushes at a target they’d drawn on the wall, Cody’s yellow dot in the center far outstripping Jesse’s erratic red splotches. Kix, having completed his helmet to perfection within five minutes, was instead painting an intricate mural of their Republic flagship moving through the deep depths of hyperspace. Rex made a carefully wide circle around Cody and Jesse’s splash zone and crouched down next to Kix.
       

       “Didn’t know you were this much of an artist,” he lightly chuckled.

       “Don’t know that I am, but I appreciate the compliment,” Kix said, absorbed in his work. He took a stiff-bristled brush and dipped it delicately into a creamy white paint, then flicked it back with his finger to add more stars to the glistening landscape. Rex was gazing at the newly created pricks of paint when he felt cold wet droplets hit his nose.
        

       “Kix!” he complained. “Y’know, if I wanted paint on my face I could have just walked in front of those two idiots over there,” he said as he jabbed a thumb over to Jesse and Cody.
        

       “Think it suits you, Commander, it’s like you’ve got freckles,” Kix joked. Setting the brush aside amidst Rex’s groaning, he picked up another paint can and selected a new brush. This one was significantly wider, about the width of Rex’s palm. Prying open the lid, he plunged the brush into a color that was-
        

       “Why is it clear?” The question was out of Rex’s mouth before he could stop himself. Kix stopped what he was doing and carefully positioned the brush so it wouldn’t fall into the colorless mixture.
        

       “Well, it’s actually a top coat to protect this little thing I’ve got going here,” he said carefully. Rex felt ashamed of having indulged himself in one little moment of unprofessionalism, asking pointless curious questions like a cadet would.
        

       But then again, the entire scene of helmet-painting for Commander Tano was childish and unprofessional, completely against standard clone soldier protocol. So he supposed it didn’t hurt.
        

       “This is in the middle of the barracks, so you’re going to have people walking all over it and eventually all of that dirt and wear is gonna make the paint look bad or even flake up, even though it’s pretty sturdy. This is a polyurethane epoxy paint that’ll keep that from happening.”
        

       “Alright,” Rex said thoughtfully. “But then why is it clear? Why not just mix your other colors with it to get the same effect?”

       “Now, there’s a question. Well, partially it’s for a whole set of complicated reasons about the integrity of the paint, but I suppose the main reason is, well...the colors look better when there’s nothing in their way. Sometimes the clear coat makes them more vibrant. It’s like when you put a rock under some water. Here, I’ll show you,” Kix said, and picked the brush back up. With one swift stroke, he spread a layer of the paint across his finished masterpiece.
        

       Suddenly, Rex could see every color in detail. Every blue was more vivid, every star seemed tiny but significant. The sweeping stroke across the middle of the ship shone a soft silvery-grey. The clear coat appeared almost dewy overhead.
        

       “It’s really something, Kix, I’ll give you that,” he murmured. Kix smiled and busied himself with obsessively staring at his paint can, stirring the liquid around and around.
Rex turned around and stood back up. Kix left his work and watched as his commanding officer strode back to the center of the chaos.
        

       “Alright brothers!” he said. No one was paying attention, all busy chattering away, getting into fights with the paint, and every clone under his command had some kind of color splashed across a blank background of the same exact face. Rex tried again. “Listen up, men!” A few shinies responded, but no one else seemed to even notice he was there. Finally he grabbed a rations crate that stood nearby. Clambering up on top of it, he cupped his hands around his mouth.
        

       “ATTENTION!” he bellowed. That did the trick. The whole room fell into silence. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare, and Rex realized belatedly that he might have gone a little overboard. He heard Jesse snicker and Cody reprimand him quietly behind his crate.
        

       “Uh, so, good, we’re all…uh, paying attention,” he added, color rushing into his face for the second time in- well, it had been a while since he’d embarrassed himself as thoroughly as he had throughout this little art project of his. But he brushed it aside, there was work to do.
        

       “We have less than an hour thanks to all this fooling about, so let’s get down to business. We have canister paints over in the corner- remember, only use the orange and white. I don’t care what Kix and Jesse and, um-” he struggled to remember the younger kid’s name.
        

       “Arty, sir,” the shiny responded. Rex gave Cody a side-eye, who only shrugged.
        

       “It seemed appropriate enough, sir,” he dead-panned to mild chuckling.
        

       “Arty, then,” Rex continued. “I don’t care how many colors all of you brought back, we want to be unified. If anyone wants to customize they can do so later.”
        

       “Remember...this is for Commander Tano.”
        

       Rex continued going over how to work with the stencils, paint, and how everyone should finish their own helmet before helping out their brothers. Just then, the blast doors slid open and everyone jumped.
        

       “Relax, it’s just me,” Anakin Skywalker strode confidently into the barracks. “Well, Captain?”
        

       “Good to see you, General. Good to see you too, Master Kenobi,” he added as the other Jedi entered into the barracks just after Anakin.
        

       “Well, it appears I’m going to be caught up in this wild scheme of Anakin’s anyway, so I’ve volunteered as well,” Kenobi groused.
        

       “I made him promise very nicely not to tell anyone except Yularen,” Anakin shot back.
        

       “Excellent. Alright, men- you know the drill. Helmet goes to General Skywalker, General Kenobi, or me, you spray it orange in the front. Wait for it to dry, get a stencil and get back in line, spray it white. Remember every minute counts! Everybody ready?”
        

       “SIR YES SIR!” A chorus of the same voice belted out.
        

       “Let’s do this,” Rex added, and Arty tossed his helmet toward the captain.
        

       Forty-five minutes later, all the colors of blue and white and orange had begun to blur together into nothing in Rex’s brain. General Skywalker had sprayed the last helmet with its distinct Togruta pattern a few minutes ago, and now everyone was working quietly in the middle of the floor, doing quick touch-ups with detail brushes. Rex leaned back, looking forlornly at his helmet, still bearing the jaig eyes in royal blue. He’d wanted a helmet too, perhaps with the eyes painted atop, but Skywalker had said no.
“We need everyone to still be able to recognize you in the field. Same with Jesse,” he’d pointed out. So Rex had to be content with a spare that he could have at the presentation.
        

       Obi-Wan perked up slightly as his wrist comm started blinking. He picked it up.
        

       “General Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano has arrived with Bo Katan Kryze,” Yularen’s dry, matter-of-fact voice came through. The room was still.
        

       “General Skywalker and I are on our way,” Kenobi calmly answered, then cut off the comm. Pandemonium broke out.
        

       “Alright, alright! Everyone settle down. No need to panic yet,” Rex yelled. “Generals, I’m sure you’ll have lots to talk about with the commander, so go do what you need to and let’s finish this war.” A bout of cheering broke out. “The rest of you, grab a heater and let’s see if we can’t get this paint to dry. Everyone in the spare hangar at ten hundred, understood?” An answering cheer went up around the room as heaters were brought out. Rex looked around to make sure everything was in order, handing a heater over to one of his soldiers and checking his chronometer. Good, there was still some time. Then he noticed Kix over in the corner again, attending to his painting. He called over.
        

       “Hey Kix, what are you doing over there? Are you coming?” Rex asked.
        

       Kix looked up from his work and gave him a half smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there, Captain. Hey, come look at how the top coat dried,” he smirked. It took quite a lot of discipline for the 501st’s leader to keep from rolling his eyes. Hurrying over, he looked down at the floor mural and gasped.
        

       The top coat of paint was now fully in place, every edge of the painting crisp. The details on the ship and the pull of hyperspace were incredible. The colors were vivid, but what really drew Rex’s eye was the Fulcrum symbol etched into the clear poly-whatever Kix had shown him.
        

       Just a subtle thing, carefully drawn out and detailed. No color. Simply etched into nothing.
        

       “See what I meant?” Kix noted. Rex thought about how much time Kix had put into every shade, every pigmentation, and all of the different colors. And yet, something you could barely see made it all complete.
        

       “Yeah, I get it now,” Rex murmured.
        

       Then he smiled. “C’mon. Time to bring the commander home.”
        

       Everyone was in place. The formation was crisp, perfect. If General Shaak Ti had been there to witness it, she would probably have expected that these were brand-new shinies with trooper medallions still pinned to their blacks rather than battle-hardened veterans who were serving on the front lines. Rex stood in the middle, facing the doorway, a strange and unfamiliar helmet on his hip.
        

       The blast doors slid open, and Commander Ahsoka Tano stepped through into the colorless light of the porthole windows high along the hangar walls.
        In that moment, Rex didn’t see the colors they’d worked so hard to obtain, the hours of effort it had taken to organize, and the last scramble to the finish line in the barracks. He saw the colors you couldn’t put in, the parts of the art you couldn’t see. He saw Jesse and Cody with a target drawn on the wall, Cody’s shoulder shrug about Arty’s new name. He saw Master Kenobi taking an extra helmet for when Anakin had to go return a comm, the two Jedi rushing off to finally welcome their missing Padawan home. The beautiful chaos and pandemonium of all his family working together to make Ahsoka’s welcome truly shine.
        

       Rex cleared his throat.
        

       “Company! Attention!”
        

       Sometimes it wasn’t the colors that were important.
        

       Commander Tano still heard the message of loyalty perfectly clear.

Chapter Text

        Everything was silent, now.

        The comm rang with heavy stillness, and Obi-Wan knew, because there she was, and everything inside him was screaming. But he didn't speak.         

        She hesitated, slightly, with a half-glance at the two of them. There was new wisdom written in her face.         

        "Hello, master," she finally said, turning to Anakin. "It's been a while."         

        * * *         

        It was a self-imposed exile, he supposed. He'd cast himself out of her life, made sure she couldn't be harmed by his mistakes. Obi-Wan was there at her Judgement, hell, he'd judged her. He should have said something, done something, as the Council exiled her from their hallowed halls. Every corridor felt more hollowed than hallowed now, without her exuberant spirit just around the corner.         

        Anakin had spoken at the trial. Obi-Wan had condemned him for it at the time. Fighting wouldn't save his apprentice, but Anakin was reckless, impulsive, keen to blurt out whatever nonsense came into his head. And yet his former padawan had, it seemed, done the right thing.         

        He hadn't spoken to her after the Council's trial. Obi-Wan couldn't seem to find the words. To explain that it hadn't been his choice, to tell her he didn't agree with what the Counsel had done, to say that he tried. But every time he followed Anakin to where Ahsoka was being held for her appearance before the Senate, he found himself falling back. Fading away. Every time, he found himself back in the Temple, and seeing his tears in the mirror- tears for the padawan he'd come to think of as his own.         

        He'd spent his leave time in the Temple, what little there was of it these days. It was rather more painful, though. He'd turn, sometimes, expecting a swish of maroon fabric and the bubbling sound of her laughter. But more often than not it was simply a creche of younglings, blissfully unaware of this damn war, and Obi-Wan would walk on with the sound of Ahsoka's laugh echoing into nothing. So he hurried off, to the Archives, or to meditate, or to the garden. But everywhere, the walls sang to him that it was his fault, his fault, and he stifled the silence and pretended that his mind didn't whisper to him of how he couldn't stay in the house that betrayed her.         

        The quiet grew heavier as Obi-Wan sat high above the courtroom and listened to Tarkin's booming voice pound through his skull, as it broke down any last shred of doubt towards Ahsoka Tano's guilt: treason, against the Republic and the Jedi Order.
The only crime, there, Obi-Wan thought bitterly, was the fact that they had failed her. That he had failed her.
He thought, perhaps, that she might have glanced up at the balcony for a moment as she was led out of the room, searching out the Council. Obi-Wan tried to call out to her, the name frozen in his throat-         

        "Master Kenobi, all right, are you? Troubled, seem you, hrmm," Master Yoda appeared behind Obi-Wan's knees.         

        Ahsoka, it was my fault, my fault, his mind said. But she'd slipped out the door, and the chance was gone.         

        The last he saw of Tano was standing in the Council room after her exoneration, Anakin by his side.         

        The Council offered their excuses, their reasons. Windu went so far as to name the event her "Great Trial". The words Obi-Wan desperately needed to say never left his mind. Master Kenobi stood there, watching helplessly as she folded her master's hand over the silka beads she'd worn for so long. Ahsoka Tano, former Padawan of the Jedi Order, turned and walked away from him, and Obi-Wan stepped forward, Anakin exclaiming "Ahsoka, wait!". He moved to follow his apprentices until Plo Koon caught his shoulder, and he let her go.         

        She didn't deserve his apology. She'd turned to her grandmaster to believe her, to trust her. And he'd never, for a moment, spoken up. He'd had his chance to speak, and fell silent at every turn. All he could do was watch her shadow disappear, and let the void of sound consume his guilt.         

        He kept going, through the battles where Commander Cody pulled him off the field and begged him to let the medics heal over the pain ripping through his body, and who plyed him with gentle patches of bacta when he refused. The war ceased to let up, and every day became just another new challenge: more dangerous, more chaotic, more deadly. He pushed through the pounding of his brain that spoke in voices of his enemies, hissing that it was Kenobi's fault, Kenobi's fault that there were no twin blades leaping across the battlefield in front of his adversaries.         

        Over time, the space between Ahsoka Tano and Obi-Wan Kenobi became a silence of his own choosing, though that didn't make it easier to bear. He entertained the idea, in moments of true desperation, of reaching out. Of finding the frayed Force bond that held him to her, forged by many years of meditation and instruction and laughter. He never did. He told himself that it hurt too much, that she'd made her choice, and that his focus was needed elsewhere, usually on the war front. It sounded callous even to himself.         

        It didn't stop his mind from replaying her face as Anakin's voice shook the room, it didn't stop his thoughts from whispering your fault, your fault.         

        Anakin had spoken, while Obi-Wan had sat tight-lipped on his Council throne and been silent.         

        Obi-Wan Kenobi knew his worst regret would be his failure in the Judgement Hall. Somehow, in all of the ways he remembered that moment, his mind always came back to when he'd sat in the dimness and sent Ahsoka away forever.         

        Master Yoda, a tremor in his soft declaration of her guilt. Your fault.         

        Anakin, fists raised against the pale yellow of Guardian sabers. Your fault.         

        Ahsoka, her eyes shut with pain as her beads fell from her lekku. Your fault.         

        * * *         

        No one spoke for a long moment, the comm channel ringing into the void. Then Anakin jumped in.         

        "Ahsoka, I- I don't believe it…H-how are you? Where are you? Are- are you ok?" he managed.         

        It hurt less than Obi-Wan had expected, being faced with his worst failure again.
He'd wronged her, and now, no matter the personal cost, he had to make it right. He glanced to Anakin, the same display of painful recognition written on his face.         

        She looked well enough, if a little taller, a little harder. Wiser- far too much wisdom to hold in her youthful face. But she'd walked away, and survived. She'd made her choice, and she'd survived it. More than that- she'd lived.         

        Obi-Wan knew he too had a choice, written in the Force. He could keep his mistakes close to his heart, and lose his padawan all over again. Or- he'd reach out.         

        Obi-Wan leaned in to the control table, and asked, "What is it, Ahsoka?"         

She glanced at him, and in the heartbeat before plans were made and apprentices fell and Obi-Wan forgave himself, they both knew.         

        He chose to break the silence.