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Chapter Text

Dooku paced. His footsteps accompanied the sounds of blasters being fired just outside the large windows. The cries of battle droids and the yelling of republic clones and the pounding rain all worked together to create an eerie calm within the room itself. This place was large—It had an echo, something he had forgotten about since all his time was being spent on ships—In narrow passageways or briefing rooms, diplomatic council chambers and droid factories. 

He gnawed his lip: that was new, he never used to do that before. The war changed many things, after all. Many Jedi cracked under the pressure of constant turmoil in the force. He gripped his wrist tightly behind his back. He hunched in on himself. He continued to pace. He would not be touched by the clones, nor any jedi accompanying them, not today at least. If the battle droids didn’t stop them, then the tanks would. And backup would arrive long before any tank would be bested. But Dooku really couldn’t care less if he was captured or not. Rescues could be planned, mouths could be kept shut. His mind was elsewhere. There was a disturbance in the force. 

It was like a whisper. Nearly invisible, nearly non-existent. It was a silent presence in his mind. A heaviness. He didn’t know if any Jedi sensed it. Lord Sideous did, he had made that quite clear on the call they had before the clones attacked. 

“Stay alert, Tyrannus. Something is happening.”

And something was. Something that made Dooku very, very nervous. But alongside this anxiety, there was a sort of comfort. Pride. Something he had not felt since— He stopped pacing. He stumbled, touching his hand to his temple. That whisper had grown into a searing pain. Dooku closed his eyes. No amount of meditating could prepare him for what he saw. 

- - | - -

“Get down!” Obi-Wan yelled into the battlefield. His drenched, mud-covered men dove to the ground: if not for the words which they likely couldn’t make out, then for the urgency in their General’s voice. He dropped to his knees, not a second passed before an explosion shook the sky above them. It bathed the scene in heat and smoke and little bits of metal that rained down alongside the torrents of water. Obi-Wan took the moment to breathe, spitting a mixture of water, mud, and blood from his mouth. He doesn’t know how many times he’s been hit, how many droid’s he’s struck down, or how many of his men have died. He lost sight of Cody a while ago. Then Waxer was no where to be seen, and before long even Wooley and Boil were gone. Who knows, maybe one of them was the body he stepped over as he stood back up. He scanned the battlefield, deflecting an incoming shot with—what he would admit—a lazy swing of his lightsaber. 

The structure they were supposed to infiltrate loomed above them, menacing in its size. The rain filled the air with a weight that made Kamino look like a relaxing shower. He could hardly see ten meters in front of him, yet somehow the cutting edges of the hideout were still visible through the fog. A hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around. He slumped in relief: it was a clone, not that he could tell who, since the man was almost completely covered in gray mud. He deflected another bolt.

“Sir,” The clone was practically gasping for air, “Still no answer from backup. The Commander’s ordered a retreat.”

“I outrank Commander Cody.” Obi-Wan’s instincts said keep fighting. Argue your case. They can’t do this. We can win. His heart was beating quickly, he was bleeding from more places than he cared to admit, and he knew that not only were all of those wrong, but that Commander Cody had made a very good decision. He swallowed his retorts and nodded to the trooper. “I can find my way back to the camp. Go, help your brothers.”

The Trooper stumbled off to spread the news. Obi-Wan remained where he stood, his swinging blade offering cover for Troops clawing and stumbling their way through the thick mud and into the treeline. Soon, his blade deactivated. He helped a clone who couldn’t walk through the dense forest. He stumbled into camp, eyes stinging with mud and rain. He felt like he had just taken on Greivous on a tightrope, he was so sore. He handed the trooper off to a medic before scanning the camp. Thank Force, the rain had begun to let up. Locking his eyes on Cody—who was issuing orders to a group of mudless men who must have stayed at the camp—he was too tired to walk over. 

“Commander Cody!” His weary voice cut through the hum of the camp. Cody met his eyes, issued one final order, and started in the General’s direction.

That’s when he felt it. 

It was a nibble in the back of his mind, a whisper. He closed his eyes and steadied himself. Funny had told him about this. It was just adrenaline, or migraines, or something like that. It was aftershock from Kadavo. He just needed to focus.

Your focus determines your reality.

He inhaled sharply—the jolt of pain that had settled behind his eyes spread throughout the rest of his head. His knees gave way, his hands pulled close to his body. The Force came in torrents.

It hurt so much. 

A hand across his shoulders, saying his name. He looked up. A face that was not quite Cody, not quite Qui-Gon, looked back. He was saying something, probably some wise and life-changing piece of knowledge that only Qui-Gon could. Some banthashit about Anakin and a prophecy. This was Qui-Gon’s doing. Somehow, even from the afterlife, he figured out a way to torture his padawan.

“That’s enough, Qui-Gon,” He hissed into the drizzling rain. “Stop.”

Qui-Gon? What’s he talking about?

“Stop!” 

Someone get Funny!

He saw Qui-Gon. That day on Naboo. Maul. Red. Green. Fear. Death. Pain. Grief. Loss. The days after. Anakin. His knighthood, of which one key party was absent. The pity. Oh, Force, sometimes he thought the pity was worse than the grief itself.

Then he saw the powerstation on Naboo. His Master’s body. The plasma refactory, it looked different. Mold clung to the walls, there were cracks and scuffs in the previously sleek metal.

Obi-Wan wasn’t there. And Maul definitely wasn’t.

The body of his master opened its eyes, and exhaustion overcame Obi-Wan's senses. As consciousness drizzled away like blood from a cut, he saw his Master sit up and ask where the hell everyone had gone.

Chapter Text

“Master...” He groaned, voice quieter than a whisper. A jolt of surprise followed by concern sent a wave of pain through his aching body. The Force was thick, and he couldn't seem to ward off a single stray emotion, feeling, or memory. For anyone. Which sucked, considering the medbay was filled with bloody and bruised troops. The blurred silhouette rushing towards him said something he couldn’t hear. A hand brushed over his forehead, then a cold towel. 

“General Kenobi?”

As his senses sharpened, he slammed his eyes shut. The light was near-blinding. The hum of machines accompanied his lull into consciousness. He blinked rapidly as he became aware of his surroundings. Obi-Wan was facing the ceiling. His shoulder felt wet and stung with every involuntary twitch. He pushed himself onto his elbows.

“Funny?” The CMO of the 212th—CT-1031, better known as Funny—looked at him dryly. “We’re on... the ship.”

“Good to know your eyes still work, sir. What happened?”

“How long was I out?”

“The fact that you haven’t yet asked, demanded, yelled, or pleaded to be released from my ‘infernal lair of suffering’ tells me that something really is wrong. I’m going to ask one more time before I jab you with a sedative and make you answer. What happened?”

He sank back down. He hated when Funny brought that up. Funny's first run-in with Obi-Wan took place just after Kadavo. He'd been drugged up, exhausted, and said some things that he doubt he would ever live down. One being his opinion that the medbay was an 'infernal lair of suffering'. But Funny was right. His head pounded, his entire body felt hot, and he couldn’t help but think of himself as a young Padawan. That’s what he felt like more and more these days. 

“I’m just tired, Funny.”

“And?”

“And I have a massive headache.”

“And?”

“I’m sore. Everywhere.”

“And?”

“And nothing. That’s it.” Funny’s gaze pierced through him, trying to determine the validity of his stubborn General’s statement. He eventually came to a decision and picked up his datapad.

“Tired is an understatement. Which brings me to our second order of business. Dehydration, borderline starvation. Come on, sir. You can’t live off caff. And I thought I assigned you those protein shakes.”

“I have been drinking them.”

“My charts say otherwise. And my charts, unlike the di’kut jetii, do not lie.” Funny put down his datapad and gave Obi-Wan a look that made his stomach turn. “I know Kadavo took its toll, but you’re a General, sir. You’ve got responsibilities. We can’t have you dying on us. We might be handed to someone even worse than you, Force forbid. And trust me, you're one of the best. I've been around the park enough times to tell.” Funny paused, “Come to think of it, I don’t think General Skywalker has such a burning hatred of the medical field as you do. Maybe a change of pace would be nice.”

“Right, responsibilities.” Obi-Wan sat up and smiled at the medic, although despite his efforts, the smile couldn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Everything alright, sir?” Funny asked, eyes narrowing at such a degree that would be imperceptible to a non-jedi.

“When do you think I can get out of this infernal lair of suffering?”

“With that attitude? Not till the war’s over.”

- - | - -

Dooku paced. He hunched. Breathed shallowly. His lip bled. Qui-Gon was alive. He saw it. Or did he? This could be a test. Some cruel test from Sidious to test his loyalties. Sidious could do anything. Be anyone. Who’s to say this wasn’t just a cruel display of power? Sidious knew how it was Qui-Gon’s death that pushed him over the edge. Sidious knew how much Qui-Gon meant to him. Sidious knew everything.

Ergo, Sideous knew about this. No, not only did he know, he orchestrated this. That must be it. He was being tested. Sidious was watching.

Right?

Dooku stopped pacing. He stood still and ran over the possibilities, of which there were three. 

One: This is a sith mind trick done by Lord Sidious. It makes the most sense. It’s logical. It’s realistic. It’s probable. Sidious had determined that Dooku's loyalty was wavering, and he responded to this by creating a test. 

Two: Qui-Gon really was back. Makes less sense, but the Force does work in mysterious ways. It’s far from logical, farther from realistic, yet… possible. And if Qui-Gon really was back, then he... things would need to change.

Three: He was losing his mind. This was perhaps more probable than option two.

- - | - -

“Is he—” Funny held up a hand to his lips. Cody’s eyes darted into the medbay over his brother's shoulder. Every bed had a body. One, at the furthest corner, was surrounded by a curtain. The perks of rank. Cody spoke again. “How is he?”

“He’s sleeping.” Funny stepped out into the hallway. “I really can’t talk now. I’ve got a surgery in twenty. There’s a shiny with a piece of shrapnel in his eye. I bet the vod will start calling him something like Cyclops.”

“What happened to him?”

“The trooper? Stray piece of metal from an exploding battle droid, appar-"

"The General."

"Ah. Why don’t you tell me, Commander?” 

“What?”

“I only got there after he passed out. A little birdie told me he said something, but nobody wants to tell me what. Our vod seem adamant on me asking you. So. You wouldn’t by chance have heard what our General was saying... would you?” Funny leant back against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked at Cody accusatorially. The Commander pinched his brow.

Funny was new, he’d been here only half a month after their last Medic was transferred, and was still adjusting. He didn’t know all the rules yet, but somehow he managed to be just as intimidating as their last medic, if not more so. Yet another 212th specific rule that a newcomer would need to learn: The rest of the 212th had decided that any matter regarding the General’s personal life was for Cody to handle. And by extension, whenever someone had a question about the General that concerned something other than war, they were sent to the Commander. They had forgotten to involve Commander Cody in this decision.

“He mentioned his old Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. That’s all i know .”

“Was he talking about Jinn or to Jinn?”

“He was speaking to Qui-Gon. Telling him to stop. Through the Force or some… osik.” He waved his hand to represent the banthashit that was their Jedi’s Force shenanigans. “He was feverish, exhausted, probably hungry. Maybe it was some sort of hallucination.”

“He’s fine now, but I've been wrong before. I’ve been taking precautions, but… he seems normal. Normal mentally, at least. He took quite a few hits yesterday. Any more and he'd be better used as an organ donor than a Jedi." As the words left his mouth, Funny shook his head and lowered his eyes. With a sigh, he pinched his nose. "Didn't mean that, Commander."

"Glad to hear that." Cody crossed his arms. Cody knew his vod well, and he could tell when one was nervous. Funny only ever seemed on edge. But that's just another perk of being the Chief Medical Officer.

"He hasn’t had hallucinations like this before, has he?” Funny brought the conversation back to General Kenobi. Cody shook his head. “I’ll keep him here for another twenty-four hours. But the second he’s out of my doors, I want you on his back. If he so much as coughs wrong, comm me.”

“Alright. Listen, trooper," Cody lowered his voice, "Does this have anything to do with Kad—”

“Funny!” A vod called from inside. Funny gave Cody a nod of apology and disappeared into his lair. Cody stood outside the medbay, watching the chaos within. Right when he thought that maybe, just maybe, Obi-Wan could move on from the past—from that hellhole on Kadavo—this had to happen. But what was… this?

He had the sinking feeling things were starting to backslide.

- - | - -

“Yes, Don?” Funny asked the troop who had called out to him. Don stood just outside the curtains of the General’s bed, his white medic uniform stained with smires of red and brown. This had been a tough day for everyone, hadn't it?

“It’s the General, sir. He woke up.” Funny pulled back the curtains and prepared to scold Kenobi on the power of a good night’s rest. He stopped halfway to the bed. The sheets were tangled and damp. The General was sitting up, chest heaving, drenched, eyes clamped shut. Funny grabbed the water glass from the bedside table and practically forced his General to drink it. He let the man catch his breath after the water was gone.

“Another nightmare?” Funny took the empty glass from shaking hands. When Kenobi opened his eyes, Funny felt sad. He felt shock. He felt pity. Funny saw a type of grief that only happened in war.

“I must speak to the council. Now.”

Chapter Text

Cody stood behind his General. The room was empty, except for the two men and a myriad of holograms showing elderly jedi with stern faces. Needless to say, Cody disliked the jedi council. He was rarely allowed to listen in on meetings—even then, only if he knew something that General Kenobi thought would be worth mentioning. Today, however, he knew just as much as the council did. His sole purpose was helping his General stand. His General, who had woken nearly the entire ship as he harassed Funny into letting him comm the council. It was only after Funny practically forced a protein shake down his throat and tied him to Cody that Funny let him go. Hesitantly. 

Cody and Obi-Wan went straight to an empty briefing room and called an emergency meeting. One by one, the weary faces of the Jedi High Council flickered with a dim blue glow. 

“About the disturbance in the force, is this, Master Kenobi?” Yoda asked, his image leaning over his cane. Obi-Wan nodded. 

“I think I had a vision.” He squeezed Cody’s arm. “I thought It was just exhaustion. It wasn’t just exhaustion. I saw Qui-Gon. He’s alive, on Naboo—”

“Obi-Wan,” Mace interrupted, “Start from the beginning.”

Obi-Wan spoke. Quietly, hesitantly, and clearly unsure. Cody was awestruck—this wasn’t the General Kenobi he knew. Not the Kenobi who ran into battle head-first, saving his brothers, defending innocents. Fighting a war. Obi-Wan described the battle. That feeling he got— he called it a 'whisper in the back of his mind.' How it grew, got louder, got intense. Cody had to applaud him, he was miraculously calm. If he didn’t have to rest half his weight on Cody, you wouldn’t have been able to notice anything was wrong. Not once did the council interrupt, none said a word until Obi-Wan finished describing the nightmare. 

Qui-Gon on Naboo. Confused. Calling out to him.

“He’s alive,” Obi-Wan finished. There was a stillness to the air. It was Plo Koon who spoke next.

“Obi-Wan. Could this not have just been…”

“A hallucination?” Kenobi raised an eyebrow. “I’ve considered that. But I am not prone to hallucinate, even sleep deprived and dehydrated. In the few cases I have, I was feverish and in pain. And even then those hallucinations did not feel this… real. I am prone to visions. Or I used to be. It feels more logical to assume that this was a vision.” That was the General Cody knew. Shrewd and logical. “Speak to my CMO. He’ll tell you, I’m completely healthy.” Completely may have been an overstatement.

“Unknown territory, moving into, we are.” Yoda looked to Mace.

“If what Obi-Wan believes is true, then we must send someone—”

“Anakin is on Naboo,” Obi-Wan said, receiving a layered look from Mace. “He took the 501st there for shore leave. Let Anakin and Ahsoka check it out. If my vision really was just a hallucination then no time or effort will have been wasted. And if it isn’t, then…”

“Then we must tread carefully. This could be a mind trick from the sith,” Ki-Adi-Mundi said, “You are likely not the only one to sense this. They could be setting a trap.”

“Which is why we must move quickly. We need to get to him first,” Depa Billaba interjected, only to be interrupted by Kit Fisto, who also had some stunning bit of wisdom to add. The flickering blue holograms soon fell to chaos, and Cody bit back a sigh. Perhaps the other Jedi were just as disastrous as their own General. 

Mace broke the chaos. “Enough!” His voice cut through all others. “We are not children. This is interesting information. We will send Knight Skywalker and Padawan Tano to investigate. And Obi-Wan, we realize this must be very stressful.” There it was. The pity.

“If you ever need anything, then we are all—”

“Please. It’s been over a decade. I think I can handle it.” Plo Koon was interrupted by Obi-Wan's perhaps slightly too bitter words. Cody was not the only one to pick up on his harshness, because for once, multiple Jedi let their surprise show on their faces.

“Yes, well. I’ll call another meeting once Skywalker and Tano have reported back to me,” Mace said. The Jedi masters one-by-one ended their calls. Their flickering faces disappeared until it was just Mace, Yoda, and Obi-Wan (and Cody). “Just so you know, Obi-Wan—”

“Notice you and Qui-Gon, we did,” Yoda said, his words attempting to bring comfort. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. Cody felt his General’s body shift. 

“So you noticed and still did nothing?” 

“We—”

“Tell me what Anakin and Ahsoka find. Thank you.” Obi-Wan jammed his finger into the control panel, hanging up on the two Jedi Masters. After their images disappeared, Obi-Wan moved away from Cody and leant over the table. His absence brought a chill with it. Obi-Wan stood there, breathing steadily, for what Cody thought to be minutes. 

“General K—”

Obi-Wan looked down at the table, which had begun to light up. He clicked a few buttons before the incoming call was accepted. Plo Koon's static image appeared. “Master Koon. Is there something you’re confused about?” Obi-Wan asked, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“No. You just… You look sadder than the day he died.”

Obi-Wan’s back was turned to Cody, and the Commander wasn’t sure what he would see if Obi-Wan were to face him. Amusement? Melancholy? Calm?

“I’m not. Thank you for your concern.” 

The call ended quickly after that. Master Koon attempted to push the subject, but it was clear that Obi-Wan was not having any of it. Obi-Wan turned, looking at Cody with that calm serenity that he was known for. 

“When someone dies, you imagine going through every day for the rest of your life without them. At first, it feels… humorous. Fake. But that humor disappears quicker than you could dream. And you actually do it. You go to bed, you wake up. Time passes. And it’s worse than you first thought, because it’s real now. They’re really gone.” He spat out the words like they were venom. “Even if you hated them. Even then, you still miss him as though you loved him.

“General?”

Obi-Wan looked at him. Cody looked back. It took Obi-Wan a moment to realize who he was speaking to. “Oh. Cody.” He smiled. In fact, Cody thought he might laugh. “Sorry. You didn’t… I am quite tired, aren’t I?”

“Reinforcements took care of the Seppie base down on the surface. You can rest. We have time.” Cody didn’t know why this felt so… off. He usually felt comfortable speaking freely around his General. This... this feeling was not of comfort.

“I think I’ll go to my quarters now. Thank you, my friend.” He patted Cody’s arm as he passed. Cody watched him go. He narrowed his eyes. Obi-Wan still had that limp from Kadavo that he couldn’t seem to shake. 

- - | - -

“Lord, I request we postpone the kidnapping plot.”

“Why?” 

“I would like to go to Naboo,” Dooku said. The hooded figure on the hologram smiled a wicked grin. 

“Why?”

“I believe there may be someone worth speaking to there. And I must move quickly.” He squeezed his wrist behind his back. “But I’m not sure it may be... worth it, which is why I am hesitant to tell you. This could easily prove to be a waste of time.”

“Skywalker is on Naboo. Does this have to do with him?”

Dooku lodged that information for later. “No.” A silence thicker than smoke settled around them. Several minutes passed.

“Fine,” Sidious’s voice cut through the air. “But we can not afford to wait very long. The Box is already built.”

“Yes, Master. Thank you.” Dooku went to shut off the comm.

“Wait.” His hand stopped inches from the button. “Naboo. Why does that planet sound so familiar?” The words oozed off the old man's tongue like honey. 

“Skywalker is close with Senator Amidala. As you say, he's there now.” Silence. “And that’s where Qui-Gon died.”

“Ah. Yes. Qui-Gon Jinn. How many years ago was that?”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve years.” Sidious murmured. “How time flies.”

The Sith lord's image fizzled out. Dooku released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“We’re going to Naboo!” He called out to the droid around him, who immediately got to work on naviagtion. He stood on the bridge of his star ship, facing the infinite wilds of space around him. His eyes sharpened, and he filled with awe in the universe, its vast and endless wilderness. It’s unknowable size, incomprehensible wisdom. He will tread carefully. Whether or not this is real, whether or not Qui-Gon Jinn is truly... he hasn't decided. But for now, he would be very, very careful. Skywalker is on Naboo. And where there is Skywalker, there is usually Kenobi. Kenobi.

He realizes. Does Kenobi know?

Chapter Text

Anakin swung his lightsaber. It hissed against one of Ahsoka’s, yanking her left arm down. She dropped and rolled, pulling her saber from under his. Ahsoka blocked another incoming swing between her two blades. Electricity hissed and crackled, she felt sweat run down her brow. Ahsoka pulled her swords up and back. Anakin was yanked forward, Ahsoka took the opening to place her left foot on Anakin's hip. She pulled her other knee to her chest before popping up her hips, extending her leg, and jamming it into Anakin’s chin. Anakin let go of his saber, the hilt clattered to the ground as the blade fizzled out. 

“For a second there, I thought he had you, Ahsoka!” came Rex’s voice. The 501st had been on shore leave for no more than two days, and were already getting bored. Naboo had been chosen after much debate, but in the end it was one insistent, loud, and chaotic voice which had swayed the tide. Most had resorted to sparring in the gym for all hours of the day. The nights, however, were home to drunken fun and Nabooan bedrooms. 

Royal Naboo bedrooms, for some. 

“You didn’t have to break my kriffing nose!” Anakin moaned, checking for blood.

“You’re fine, Skyguy. I didn’t kick that hard.” Ahsoka scooped up her Master’s lightsaber and handed it back with a smirk.

“Force, Snips, when did you get so slippery?”

“Didn’t learn it from you. You’re like a brick on the battlefield.”

“Hey! I’m faster than Obi-Wan!”

“Obi-Wan isn’t here right now, Master. This is between you and me.”

“Best four of six?” Anakin activated his lightsaber again, which was set to its lowest setting.

“General, Commander Tano,” Rex said, looking up from his datapad, “You’re going to have to finish this match of the millennium later. Message from the council.”

They took the call in an empty briefing room. And after a very confusing conversation with Mace Windu, Anakin found himself and Ahsoka trekking the halls of the empty Naboo Plasma Refinery. As much as he was slightly annoyed for something like this to be sprung on him, he was excited to actually do something again.

Calm down, Anakin. It’s not even been two days, He told himself. Take the rest time when it’s given to you.  So Anakin made a vow: After tonight, he would spend the next few days doing nothing. Until something interesting came up, of course. 

The air was alive with electricity—it crackled and danced and hummed in a chaotic clutter of humidity and smog. Sweat clung to their skin, and their clothes were cold with sweat. Anakin could have sworn he felt… something was off.

“What did Master Windu say we’re looking for?”

“He didn’t. Just said in his usual animated way that ‘ we’ll know it when we see it’ .” He mocked the councilmember, remembering all the times Mace Windu said something equally as needlessly mysterious. 

“That could mean all sorts of things. I mean, are we looking for a person? An object? Do we have to check this whole place? Or just one level?”

“I know just as much as you, Snips. But from the way Windu was talking… I think there was a reason he didn’t tell us anything.”

“We should have brought Rex—”

“Shhh.” Anakin held up his hand. There was definitely something up. Something—someone—was watching them. A presence… a… “Ahsoka, hide!”

“What? Where? There’s n—”

“Skywalker.” Dooku’s footsteps sent an echo through the massive chamber. The Count stretched out the word as he rounded the entrance’s corner… alone? 

“Count Dooku.” He drew his lightsaber, felt the force run through his bones as it crackled to life beside him. Ahsoka did the same. Dooku did not. He simply raised his hands as he stood in the entranceway. The generator room’s light was dim, so the brightness from behind Dooku clouded his face in shadow.

“I come in peace.”

“Well we do not.”

“You are a Jedi, Skywalker. Peace is your duty.”

“Not where it concerns the sith!” Anakin pointed his lightsaber at Dooku, who did not flinch as the hiss of electricity stopped inches from his neck. “Why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Don’t test me, Dooku. I will kill you right now.” For ten seconds, the only sound was the buzzing of the three lightsabers and the faint hum of crickets outside. This was the last thing Anakin had expected. 

“How is Master Kenobi?” Dooku finally asked.

“Obi-Wan? What’s he got to do with any of this?” 

Dooku’s lips tightened. “I see. He is not here?”

“Enough. Count Dooku, I arrest you on behalf—”

A shout from deeper in the generator room sent a chill down Anakin's spine. That voice. It couldn’t be. He dropped his guard, turned his body from Dooku. He would later curse himself for his error. Skywalker wasn’t quick enough to notice Dooku slam the hilt of the lightsaber into the back of Ahsoka’s head, who had also turned to the noise. There was a crack and a searing pain as Anakin tumbled to the ground beside his padawan. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was a man coming up from deeper in the refinery, face seeping weathered and clouded with worry.

Qui-Gon Jinn.

- - | - -

“Padawan-mine.” Dooku clipped his lightsaber to his belt as Qui-Gon approached. He was the exact same man Dooku remembered. Not a thing had changed—his aging face, wrinkled robes, not even that look of soft melancholy had weathered with time. "It's good to see you."

“Master Dooku?” Qui-Gon stopped, eyes widening with realization. “You’re so old.”

Dooku smiled, and let a chuckle slip from his lips. It was his first real laugh since this cursed war began. “Yes, yes, I suppose I am, Qui-Gon.”

“Where’s Obi-Wan? And Maul? What’s going on? Who are—” He was stopped as Dooku raised a silencing hand.

“Maul is gone. I’ll explain everything. Sit.” Dooku gestured to the edge of the platform. He sat with his legs hanging over the edge. Qui-Gon joined him, and for a fraction of a second, Dooku forgot the war. They were not Count Dooku and late Jedi Master Jinn. They were Master and Padawan.

Dooku summarized the past twelve years through bated breath. Kenobi’s knighthood, Anakin’s padawan years. His fall. When he began to talk about how he lost faith in the order, he looked away from Qui-Gon. He talked about the war. Geonosis, the clones, who the unconscious—but quickly waking—Jedi behind him were. How he knew where to find Qui-Gon. How, at first, he thought it was a Sith trick to test him. How he’s still not convinced Qui-Gon is really... real. 

“Go on then, ask me something a Sith would never know,” Qui-Gon said in response. Dooku smiled softly.

“What did I tell you after we returned Senator Dagonet’s son from the kidnappers?”

“You're a much wiser man than I, Qui-Gon Jinn,”  The answer came immediately. “I took it to heart. Do you remember how I responded?”

“‘Thanks to your teachings.’”

“It's true, Master. It is a shame you no longer find peace in the Jedi Code.

“A shame indeed.”

Only when his tale was finished did he dare look at his old Padawan’s face. When he did, he felt a tug on his heart powerful enough to have gotten him expelled from the Jedi Order. Qui-Gon was somehow more exhausted than before. 

“So, I take it you’ll bring me to your separatist base? You and the Sith Lord will try and figure out why I am here. You’ll try and make me fall to the dark side. Or maybe you’ll just kill me after you’ve gotten what you need.” Despite his words, there was no hatred in the man’s voice. Dooku and Qui-Gon gazed over the generator room. It was beautiful in a way only similar to Coruscant. Not beautiful in appearance, but in what it represents. Metal that was forged by a living hand, assembled by living hands, and despite its materiality, flowing with the force.

“No.” Dooku sighed.

“No?”

“I am going to leave now. Skywalker and his padawan will bring you to the Jedi Council. They will decide how to proceed.” Dooku slowly got to his feet.

“Why?” Qui-Gon asked, quickly following his old Master.

“I can’t take you with me.”

“Why?” He asked again. “You can comm people from your ship.”

“You sound as though you want to be kidnapped.” 

“I just don’t understand, Master.”

Dooku turned around, scanning his eyes over the man he raised. His son. “You have no place in this war, Qui-Gon Jinn.”

Chapter Text

The consciousness that returned to Anakin was like sludge. When his body felt (mostly) under his control, he scrambled to his feet and drew his saber. The world spun, he toppled over again, and expelled his lunch onto the sleek metal platform. Anger surged through his veins. How dare that traitor lay a finger on Ahsoka. He pushed himself to his feet again, this time managing to keep his balance.

“Dooku! Show yourself, you—”

“Anakin.” That voice. Anakin spun around, his breathing ragged. He wasn’t losing his mind. He hadn’t been hearing things. There, in front of him, stood the long-dead Qui-Gon Jinn. Well, just because his hearing was okay didn’t mean he wasn’t crazy. He could just as easily have hallucinated this entire night. He wouldn’t put anything past the force. 

“Qui-Gon?” He said through gasps of air. He leant over, catching his breath. Force, Dooku had really hit him hard. 

“Anakin Skywalker.” He felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder, which then pulled back his hair as Anakin vomited more and sank to his knees. He definitely had a concussion. “Why, you were only ten… this war has not treated you well, my dear Padawan.”

“Ahsoka?” Anakin wiped the tears from his eyes and realized Ahsoka was gone.

“I sent her to tell your… clones… that we needed a speeder. You took a very long time to wake up. It’s nearly dawn.”

Anakin sat back, wiping the residue from his lips. He looked up at Qui-Gon. “You seem awfully calm about all this.” 

“Looks can be deceiving. I am, in fact… I’m the most confused I’ve ever been in my entire life. I think I’m in shock.” He smiled. It was a warm, comforting thing which Anakin only saw in his dreams. “We have some time until Ahsoka comes back. Tell me about yourself, Anakin. Share with me everything I missed. Who trained you?”

“I was trained by Obi-Wan.”

“Not another Jedi? How old were you when your training began?”

“Obi-Wan took me as a Padawan the day you died. He told me you asked him to.”

“I did, but in hindsight, I realize that it was an awful idea to let my Padawan train another, being so young himself. He never passed his trials?”

“I don’t know much about what happened that day, but according to him, the council said that his battle with Maul was his trial.”

“That’s—” Qui-Gon sighed heavily. “Did he do a good job?”

“The best,” Anakin smiled, thinking back to his padawan years, “Although, I can’t imagine he could have done a better job than you did. Obi-Wan never did enjoy speaking about you. Why don’t you tell me about one of your adventures?”

Qui-Gon's smile tightened. “Of course, Padawan-mine.”

Qui-Gon and Anakin spoke for twenty minutes. To Anakin, it was like speaking to the father he never knew. As much as he admired Obi-Wan, the man was merely a brother to him. A brother forced to play the role of father. Qui-Gon, he was different. He was the father Anakin dreamt of. When Qui-Gon laughed, Anaking felt joy bubble up inside him. When Qui-Gon got lost in his tales, and looked over Anakin’s shoulder as if he was seeing his friends once again, Anaking felt his melancholy. Only the clatter of approaching troops snapped Anakin out of the paralyzing awe he nearly drowned in. 

“Ahsoka,” He turned around, stood up, and straightened his tunic. 

“Master. You’re awake. The troops are sweeping the area for Dooku,” Ahsoka said, Rex following closely behind.

“Doubt we’ll find anything, sir. He could be halfway to Coruscant by now.” Rex’s eyes flickered to Qui-Gon, who loomed over Anakin’s shoulder. He bowed his head slightly. 

“It’s banthashit! We nearly had him.” Anakin clenched his fists, then gestured back to Qui-Gon. “On the bright side, I think we found what the Council wanted us to. I’ll alert Windu.”

“The Council sent you here?” Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, Master. I don’t know how they would have known.”

“Dooku told me—”

“You spoke with Dooku?”

“Why do you think he came here?” Qui-Gon clasped his hands in front of himself. “He told me he had a vision. Maybe Obi-Wan had one too.”

“He would have told me,” Anakin said quickly. Seeing Ahsoka’s look, he added, “But that’s possible. We were sent by the council, so he definitely knows about your… situation.”

“Obi-Wan… he’s on the council?” Qui-Gon asked tightly. Anakin nodded, then looked back at Rex.

“Get us out of here, Rex. Wouldn’t want to miss breakfast.”

- - | - -

Anakin's words created a pit in Obi-Wan’s stomach.

“Are you sure, Skywalker?” Mace asked. His voice was far off, distant. 

“I think so, Master Windu,” Anakin said bitterly, before gesturing to someone just out of reach of the camera. Obi-Wan hunched over the briefing room table, eyes darting over the holographic image in front of him. He hadn’t slept since the vision, and was officially running on twenty-four hours worth of caff. He smothered down any form of emotional reaction as the hazy image of Qui-Gon Jinn appeared beside Anakin. He moved the same way, carried himself the same way, even his distant, emotionless express carried the same harsh and disapproving undertones. Even though he smiled warmly at the faces of his old friends, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but see him as that uncaring, petty—

“Hello,” He said, his voice carrying the same Corucanti accent that Obi-Wan remembered. “It’s been quite a while, Anakin tells me.”

You are a much wiser man than I, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Obi-Wan was not alone in the briefing room. Cody stood against the far wall, Funny beside him, glancing down at his datapad every few seconds. The man had insisted on shadowing him after Cody expressed his unease at, in his words, 'Spying on the General.' Cody was here as his escape plan.

Obi-Wan scanned his eyes over the faces of his other council members. Some, like him, were emotionless. Others bore expressions of shock, intrigue, and curiosity. Some others suspicion. 

“Happy to see you, we all are.” Yoda smiled at his grand-padawan. “An unheard of occurrence in the Force, this is.”

“The Force works in mysterious ways,” Windu murmured. “There are many ways we could proceed.”

“I was thinking I would spend some time with Anakin and his padawan while I get used to things. This is all quite overwhelming, and he was supposed to be my Padawan. I must make up on lost years,” Qui-Gon said with conviction, as if the Jedi council had to agree with him. Just like he always did. 

“Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan moved his attention to Mace. “Our intel tells us that the plot to kidnap the chancellor has been postponed. You and Anakin head to Kaiscen. We've just discovered an old Separatist base there, though it should be practically abandoned. Make sure of this. It should be an easy mission, and it will give you all time to… get a feeling for things.”

Obi-Wan looked to Anakin. “How many days are you from Kaiscen?”

“Six.”

“Mace, if it’s as simple as you seem to think, then the 212th can handle it. We’re only a few hours away. And if I’m correct in assuming, Qui-Gon will likely not join the war effort. I don’t see a need for us to—”

“Well, Qui-Gon is your Master, Obi-Wan. And he’s been dead for over a decade.”

“Attachment is forbidden,” he insisted, throwing the code back at Mace. He refused to look at Yoda, whose eyes were reserved and knowing.

“Come on, Master,” Anakin said, nudging Qui-Gon slightly in the arm. “It’ll be fun.” Obi-Wan sighed, pinched his nose, and then crossed his arms.

“Fine.” Obi-Wan watched as the council began to talk about what could have brought Qui-Gon back from the dead. Obi-Wan tapped his finger against his elbow three times. Cody, taking their signal, stepped beside his General and whispered into his ear. After a second, Obi-Wan interrupted whatever the council was talking about now. “I’m sorry, I need to go.” then, to Anakin and Qui-Gon: “I’ll see you two in six days.”

And the holograms flickered away, the room fell into silence. 

- - | - -

“Sir?” Cody placed a hand on his General’s shoulder. He leant over the briefing table and shook his head. Cody shot a glance back to Funny, who was looking up from his datapad for once. “You feeling okay, sir?”

“I’m fine. Thank you, Commander.”

“You don’t look fine,” said Funny. “Why don’t—”

“Thank you for your concern, but I really do have to go. I’m just remembering, I forgot to put in orders for new armor.” Obi-Wan made to leave, but Cody grasped his arm. He felt his General stiffen in his grasp. Cody never liked it when they disagreed.

“I don’t like it when you’re secretive.”

“I’m not keeping secrets, Cody. I’m just… I’m very tired.” He pulled his arm away from Cody. And then he left. And Cody cursed himself for not trying harder. He always thought General Kenobi was the distinguished, put-together, calm Jedi that they teach you about. But Obi-Wan had always been like… this , ever since the beginning of the war, and Cody had only recently begun to notice.

“So,” said Funny, “How long have you two been a couple?”

“What?” Cody spun, a look only described as ‘incredulous’on his face.

“I’ve only been here for two weeks, and—”

“Tell me that’s another one of your stupid jokes,” Cody growled. “Where did you transfer from, trooper?” It was Funny’s turn to ask what the other meant. “Battalion. The 410th? 377th?” Cody wanted to get the name of whatever CO told the Medic it was okay to speak about the Jedi like this and file a complaint so terrible that he’d be stripped of rank and sent to work in the kitchens of Kamino. 

“Kamino.”

“But you’re not a Shiny.” That was not what Cody expected. He tried, and probably failed, in keeping the surprise from showing on his face.

“Far from it. I was a medic for the first battle of Geonosis, you know. I get passed around, battalion to battalion, to fill temporary positions while they send the actual replacement over. This is the first time I’ve been CMO.” Funny smiled.

“But you’re not here temporarily.”

“Nope. The new medic who I was filling in for’s transport got caught in a warzone. He didn’t make it.” 

“Were you sent to Kamino for decommissioning?” Cody knew very little about the 212th’s new medic, but didn’t realize that he really knew nothing until now. 

“No. It was the latest General, actually, who finally had enough and sent me back there. General Krell.” Pong Krell. He had been the General leading the 501st on Umbara. Funny must have been sent off just before then. Cody hadn’t been caught up in the friendly fire himself, but many vod died that day. He clenched his fists.

“What’d you do? Let me guess, expressed an intelligent opinion?” Funny shook his head.

“I was sent to bandage up one of his arms on the battlefield. I couldn’t stop laughing, and he thought I was laughing at him, rather than… he was furious. He thought I disrespected him infront of his clones, and the vod thought I was losing it.”

“Why were you laughing?”

“It’s how I got my name. Funny. When Krell sent me back to Kamino, they tried to figure out what was wrong with me. They dug up old reports of incidents like that. Laughing on a warzone, cracking jokes during surgery. Basically, my amygdala is... deformed. To cut the scientific terms, my emotions aren’t connected to the correct reactions.” 

“So when you’re scared or sad, it looks like you're happy? Why didn’t they decommission you?”

“They didn’t feel the need to.” He tapped the thin scar on his forehead. “Just wanted to make sure everything was in order with my inhibitor chip. It's... it’s easier to try not to feel anything than to feel the wrong things. I’m a bit like a Jedi that way.” Seemingly only now realizing they were alone, Funny pulled up his datapad, “I’ve gotta try and track down that General of yours before he gets himself killed.”

Cody let the CMO go. He still couldn’t find the right moment to ask anyone about Kadavo. It took a toll on his General, and the man was still feeling its aftershock. That much was evident, not only in the bruises under his eyes, but his closed-off posture, the way he walked, the look in his eyes whenever he entered a room with more than a few people in it. Cody wanted to help. He wanted to do what he could for his General. Not because of his programming, he liked to think, but because they were friends. Because they trusted each other. Or, at least, Cody trusted his General.

Chapter Text

Qui-Gon was supposed to be dead. The man died in his arms. His memory—everything he ever did to Obi-Wan, that was all in the past. It was buried, forgotten, ignored—it didn’t matter. All that was important was that Qui-Gon was dead and gone. If the universe has no rules, then anyone can do anything, right? If death—the one constant in this Force-forsaken hell that is this war—can be ignored and defied by something as small as Qui-Gon, then what’s the point? What’s the point in any of it? 

The crackling blue energy of his saber hissed as it clashed against the blade of his opponent.

Obi-Wan wasn’t content. But before Qui-Gon came, he wasn’t angry, either . Qui-Gon was a relic of a bygone era who had no place in the present. He was a marker of the independence and rebellion that not only disrupted this war, but also fueled the Separatists. When Qui-Gon was dead, he could be swept under the rug like the spider he was. But this war? This war was between Good and Evil, something that Qui-Gon didn’t believe in. To him, nothing was black and white. Which becomes a problem in war. Which is exactly why he should have stayed dead. 

He swung, he was deflected.

Mace and Yoda had said that they noticed. They noticed all of it. And still, they did nothing. They knew about Qui-Gon, whose lightsaber wasn’t set on a low enough setting during sparring.

Qui-Gon, who never spoke a single kind word to his padawan unless under the gaze of others.

Qui-Gon, who only ever made food for himself.

Who pushed his padawan to the brink.

Who never completed a single mission report.

Who was so overwhelmed with grief that he forgot about the child right in front of him. 

Qui-Gon Jinn, who sent a thirteen year old into an active warzone and left two lost, confused kids in his wake.

He rained a flurry of blows down upon his enemy, nearly landing a hit on its arm.

Anakin was probably over the moon at the return of his rightful Master. The man who should have trained him. Under the stresses of war and exhaustion of countless sleepless nights, Anakin and Obi-Wan had exchanged harsh words in the past. Anakin would bring up Qui-Gon, how he should have been the one to train him. He never said the words, but Obi-Wan knew what he was thinking.

You should have died on Naboo. Not Qui-Gon Jinn.

He brought his saber down and felt the jolt of resistance as it cut into the metal of the sparring droid. The light in its eyes flickered out and the machine went limp. Obi-Wan was damp with sweat, his chest heaved with every inhale. He deactivated his lightsaber and felt how heavy his limbs were. His back, which was still healing from Kadavo. The chronic ache in his right foot, which would be his companion until the end of this war, until he could finally sit down. The pull of gravity on the hilt of his lightsaber. The struggle to suck in every breath, fighting against his own lungs to keep himself breathing. 

He is the chosen one. He will bring balance.

He didn’t hate Qui-Gon. He used to spend every day trying to figure out how he could make his Master proud. No, Obi-Wan loved his Master. The problem was, Qui-Gon did not love him back.

Obi-Wan moved the broken sparring droid off the mat, exchanged it for a working one, and got into his ready position. Funny leaned on the doorframe, watching. It was late. The medic wouldn’t be surprised if they were the only two off-duty who were still awake. 

Obi-Wan activated his saber.

- - | - -

Dooku drummed his fingers on the table. He scrolled through the readings, eyes stinging from the bright light. It was long past midnight, and his ship was following Skywalkers at a slow crawl. One of their ‘bases’ was really used to measure the Force in the area. It was on Kaiscen—a wooded planet home to an ancient and long-forgotten Jedi temple. A report came through soon after Dooku returned to the ship: There was a spike of… something. It leveled the base, only a handful of droids were left. No living thing had set foot on Kaiscen since long before the bases construction, and it had fallen under both the Separatists and the Republics radar. Grievous was headed to scope out the planet. Dooku was trying to figure out what exactly had happened from the safety of his ship. 

He scanned over the readings, absorbing and filing every number. Every change, every fluctuation. He could get a droid to do it, but droids could make mistakes. He trusted himself to do a better job. That was yet another problem with this war. The Separatists relied on droids, mindless rule followers. That was one thing he still respected about the Jedi. They could think for themselves, and many did, eventually leaving the order after realizing the code's flaws, like he did. He had always been seen as a free-thinker, an independant, among the other Jedi. Dooku didn't hate the Jedi, like his own grand-padawan, who found comfort in and devoted their life to the Jedi code.

He just felt sorry for them.

He paused at a set of numbers. Two days ago. The spike in the Force. The disturbance. Qui-Gon. It would only make sense for there to be a fluctuation on Naboo, maybe the Jedi temple or the planet he and Kenobi were on. But Kaiscen? His ship was tailing Skywalkers—from a safe distance—and they were headed in that direction. Had the Jedi noticed something as well? He made a decision and sent a message to Grievous. 

“Anticipate possible Jedi,” he said, “I have a feeling things on Kaiscen will not be as simple as you expect.”

Not as if Grievous would heed his warning. The droid was powerful, but an idiot. A powerful idiot, the worst kind. 

- - | - -

“Spar with me,” Anakin cracked his knuckles before pulling on his gloves. They were in the training hall, Anakin had spent the morning on a call with Padmé before returning to the ship and sparring with his men. Qui-Gon shook his head, content enough to sit and watch.

“I’ve no lightsaber.”

“Use one of Ahsoka’s. Or we could go hand-to-hand.”

“I’m content watching.”

“Lame. Come on—”

“Anakin.” Qui-Gon leant back. “I said no.”

“Suit yourself!” Ahsoka jumped up, stretching her arms over her head. “Prepare to lose, Skyguy.” Ahsoka activated her sabers. They sparred.

Qui-Gon watched from the side, so did a handful of clones. He watched every move, his eyes followed their feet, the tips of their blades. They both used a variant of form V, Djem So, meant for dueling. Although, Anakin didn’t seem to follow all the rules of the form. He was fluid in a way unrestricted by forms and rules and technique. But that didn’t make the techniques he did use any less effective. He was clearly going easy on his padawan, who’s brow was once again thick with sweat. He was personally not impartial to Ataru: it ended combat quickly. The best defense is a strong and swift offense, after all. You can tell a lot about a Jedi and how they conduct themselves based on which form they weld.

Makashi, or form II, was used by Master Dooku. Graceful, refined. Makashi was for Jedi who viewed lightsabers as a tool of art as opposed to a weapon. Dooku treated everything about being a Jedi that way. To his Master, a Jedi was not a knight or a warrior, but an artist and a protector.

There was Ataru, which ended combat swifty. You are harmonious with the force, let it guide you and aid you. He wasn’t willing to devote the grace and patience required of Makashi to dueling. Ataru was commonly misconstrued—some saw it as a form for those who liked battle, who glorified violence. This was blatantly untrue. It ended combat swiftly. You got it out of the way without needing to dwell on it. It was harmony. It was mercy.

If anything, Soresu—Form III—was for those who relished in violence. The form of resilience, of defense. Qui-Gon thought it was banthashit. Soresu drags out the battle. The Jedi using it let their enemies struggle, maintaining the hope of winning before cutting them down with a single well-placed blow. It was for people who liked to feel superior. It was cruel. And Qui-Gon maintained the belief that the Jedi who studied it to a point of mastery were not following the will of the force—to protect, to be kind, to be merciful—but their own need to indulge their egos. 

“What did you think, Master Qui-Gon?” Anakin called, proudly standing over Ahsoka, who was catching her breath on the ground. 

“Form V suits you. It's a balance between the cowardice of Form III and the weaknesses of Form IV. It allows you to create your own openings, to end battle swiftly whilst also maintaining a solid defence."

"Cowardice of Soresu?"

"To practice Soresu, a Jedi must be able to drain their opponent of their hope. To watch them suffer and feel nothing. No empathy, no mercy, not even pity. It is cruel. I'm glad you don't practice it." Qui-Gon crossed his arms. "You seem very skilled. Perhaps we will spar, at another time.”

“Obi-Wan taught me well.” Anakin looked away from Qui-Gon and fiddled with his tunic. Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile at the name. He did care for his former student, all though he knew that he didn't do a very good job at showing it. Back at the temple, Mace and Yoda had come to him many times to ask if everything was alright between them. And things were alright, the boy was just being a teenager. Even the Jedi are not immune from the confusion of teenagehood. Qui-Gon knew that, no matter how much resentment his former padawan may hold for him, he had done a good job. 

“That he did.”

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” Ahsoka called, poorly imitating the raspy voice of General Grievous. “Or are you ready for round two, Jedi?”

Chapter Text

“Are these plans accurate?” Anakin looked over the diagram of the Separatist base on Kaiscen. They were still three days out, but the details of the base had been sent from Coruscant, and you never could be too prepared. Obi-Wan and the 212th had already been there for a day, scanning the planet from above.

“The council first thought the base was new, since it’s never shown up before. But a scan of the place shows that the design matches with one of the original Separatist bases from the very beginning of the war. These are plans for the other base that this one matches. It could be different on the inside, for all we know. We’ll have to map it as we go along.” Obi-Wan explained. Alongside Obi-Wan stood his Commander, Cody. Qui-Gon was helping Ahsoka run her katas. 

“Any intelligent life on the planet?” Rex asked, the fourth member in the room. 

“No towns or cities nearby. There are ruins, though. It seems as though whoever inhabited Kaiscen is either long dead or long gone,” Obi-Wan gestured to a point on the map beside the base diagram. “There’s an old Jedi temple here, or what appears to be. Only one file in the Jedi Archives mentions anything about a temple on Kaiscen, and it’s… well, it’s old enough for the date to not be worth mentioning.”

“The base is small. How many droids are we looking at?” This was getting too weird for Anakin’s liking. Completely uninhabited despite the lush forest, a tiny separatist base, and a long-abandoned Jedi temple. But then again, his grandmaster did just come back from the dead. So maybe it wasn’t that strange after all.

“That’s the thing,” Obi-Wan, for once, sounded hesitant. “There may be a problem with some of our scanners since it makes no sense for the place to be left completely unguarded. We can’t see any droids on the outside. They could be lining the walls on the inside, for all we know.”

“Should we send a team to scout ahead?” Cody asked from behind Obi-Wan. The General looked to his second.

“The base is so small that a scout team should be able to handle it on their own. If we send a scouting team then we may as well capture the whole base while we’re at it.” He looked back at Anakin. “I really see no need for four Jedi.”

“You heard Mace and the others. It’ll help Master Jinn get a feel for things.”

“Mm.” Obi-Wan nodded to himself, “Are you taking him back to Coruscant after?” Anakin felt surprised.

“I assumed you’d take him.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well,” Anakin shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause you were his Padawan. You can’t just turn your back on him.”

“I get a feeling he’d prefer to stay aboard the Resolute with you.”

“Why don’t we ask him?”

“ You can ask him. And you’ll tell me his answer—which will be a resounding no—on Kaiscen.”

“You’re not going to speak to him on your ship beforehand?”

“I don’t see the need to.”

“You haven’t talked to him at all yet. He’s been dead for twelve years, Obi-Wan. I couldn’t imagine—”

“Be glad that you can’t, my young Padawan.” The use of the honorific signified to everyone that this stream of conversation was over. “How long until you arrive?”

“Three days. Obi-Wan, can I speak to you alone?” Anakin gave the signal for Rex to give them the room.

“No, Anakin.” Rex stopped mid stride. “You can speak to me on Kaiscen.”

“How about Qui-Gon and I speak to you on the Negotiator before we head down there? Maybe give the guy a warm welcome?” Anakin crossed his arms. Obi-Wan and Anakin—the two most stubborn Generals in the Republic—had a staring match. Eventually, a thin smile tickled the corners of Obi-Wan's mouth. Anakin realized it was the first he’d seen his master smile since before Kadavo.

“And they call me the negotiator. You better have something good to say, Anakin.”

“I always do.”

Near the end of the meeting, Commander Cody’s hologram disappeared. Moments later, it was back, whispering into General Kenobi’s ear. Anakin watched with dread as his smile faded. He watched as Obi-Wan patted the Commander’s arm in thanks.

“The Malevolence was picked up on our scanners nearby. There may be a fight, be prepared to turn the Resolute around.”

“Grievous? What’s he doing on Kaiscen? I thought the base was practically abandoned.”

Obi-Wan looked at a loss for words. Something flashed in his eyes. “I may know why the council sent us here.”

- - | - -

“What did you mean, General?” Cody rushed out, following at General Kenobi’s heel.

“Send a message to the council, let them know that Grievous may decide to throw us a welcome party. I want the men ready to hold off the Malevolence if Grievous decides to engage. Shuttles ready to evacuate onto Kaiscen if necessary.” 

Obi-Wan entered the bridge, moving to the large windows. Space surrounded them, an endless black abyss in every direction. Kaiscen was a lush green, surrounded by dense clouds. The records said that nearly the entire surface was foliage, the water flowing through deep underground lakes and rivers. From behind the planet, moving at nothing more than a slow crawl, drifted the Malevolence.

“General. What did you mean?”

“According to Anakin, Dooku was on Naboo. Meaning he knew. And then we get sent here, only for the Separatists to make an appearance?” He shook his head. “There’s something important on this planet. I don’t think this ancient Jedi temple is just a coincidence.” Obi-Wan turned around. Cody was calling out the orders just given to him to the various bridge staff. “Wait, Commander.”

“Sir?”

“Don’t deploy anyone yet. Let Grievous make the first move. If I am correct,” Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed on the ship, which kept creeping closer, “We may be able to postpone this for another day.”

————— [ o ] —————

“What do you mean, don’t engage?” Grievous slammed his heavy fist into the wall of his bridge, earning himself a look of disapproval. “I could easily get onto that ship and slit that Jedi’s throat!”

“Don’t overestimate your abilities,” Dooku’s hologram said, “I will be arriving in three days, along with Skywalker and too other Jedi. I expect that to be when they will attempt to take our base.”

“Why are you coming? Which other Jedi?”

“I’ve been trailing the Resolute. The readings from that base show that something happened on Kaiscen. I want to know what. So you will not touch the Negotiator nor any clone on it until I arrive and deliver further instruction.”

“Yes, Count.” Grievous grumbled. 

“Are they aware of your presence?” Dooku asked. Grievous nodded. “Then send your droids to the planet. They’ll be expecting some resistance from you. But, as much as you may want to, don’t try to kill Kenobi.”

The rest, Grievous could deal with. But that? It was simply unreasonable.

“Should I tell the droids not to shoot at the Jedi?”

“No. A battle droid will not kill a Jedi.” The hologram flickered off. Grievous stalked back and forth, contemplating—or doing his equivalent—what could be going on. He came to one conclusion: Count Dooku knew something that he did not. 

Which begged the question: Did Lord Sidious know?

- - | - -

The men were still technically on break until they arrived on Kaiscen and met with the 212th, but three days in and the troops were already prepping for a fight. Somehow, the Clones—Rex’s vod —had scrounged together a some semblance of a culture during the war. In times of crisis, stress, and violence, they needed somewhere to feel comfort. Someplace like their names, their tattoos or hairstyles. Another piece of their ‘culture’ was the treatment of their armor. Before a mission, the clones would spend laborious hours cleaning, personalizing, or repairing their plates and buckets. In a world where they each had so little, they needed to be proud of what they did. And Rex was nothing short of proud of his men.

Two nights until they reach Kaiscen and meet with General Kenobi. Their upcoming mission on Kaiscen was surprisingly not the topic of their conversation as Ahsoka and Rex walked the halls of the Resolute. 

“Qui-Gon’s cool. He taught me some Ataru moves.”

“He seems… I can tell where General Kenobi gets some of his habits from.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah. The way he stands. Sometimes he strokes his beard like Kenobi.” Rex shrugged. All in all, he thought something was strange about the suddenly-alive Jedi Master who Anakin seemed to dote on more than Padmé. “Qui-Gon reminds me a lot of the General, come to think of it.”

“You feel uneasy.” Ahsoka looked up at him. 

“Yeah. There’s something…”

“Off about him. Not sith mind trick off, but…”

“But just off.” Rex couldn’t put a word to it. Sometimes you just can’t with these things. Sometimes people are just strange. Sometimes without reason. But Rex new from experience that there was usually a reason, you just had to dig deep enough to find it. 

“Maybe that’s just how he is. I feel it too. But Anakin seems to like him.” Ahsoka shrugged.

“Maybe more than he likes Padmé.”

“Impossible. Listen, Rex, if it’s not too much to ask…”

“You want me to keep an eye on him. I understand.” They stopped outside the mess hall. “Things are rarely the way they appear.”

“Yeah. Anakin can be pretty… he can overlook things.” It looked like she wanted to say more, but stopped herself. “I’ll see you later. Thanks.” 

“See you, kiddo.” Rex didn’t wait for her to leave before turning and retracing his steps. Qui-Gon Jinn would be eating dinner right now. Probably with Anakin, probably in his or the General’s quarters. Clones weren’t allowed everywhere on the ships. Clones weren’t allowed to stand at the end of every hallway, with an ear to every wall. 

Luckily, when it came to rules and regulations, Rex was more Captain than clone. 

- - | - -

“General?” Commander Cody knocked on the door to his General’s chambers. A second passed before a muffled reply beckoned him inside. He opened the door hesitantly. 

“Good evening, Cody. How can I help?” Obi-Wan was sitting at his desk, hunched over a pile of datapads. 

“Close call earlier.” Grievous had not attacked the Negotiator. Instead, it had sent down a handful of shuttles likely filled with battle droids. No doubt the base would have a tank or two. The rest of the day Cody had spent briefing the rest of the 212th. He didn’t know what the General had been. Here, by the looks of it. 

“Indeed. This is shaping up to be an interesting week.”

“And a rough month.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan looked up from his datapads. His eyes were framed in bruise-like bags, his eyelids hung half closed. 

“Kadavo, sir.”

“Kadavo. What about it?”

“Are we going to talk about it?”

“What’s to talk about?”

“After we pulled you from that hellhole, you were delirious. You said things. Do you know what you said?” Obi-Wan glared at him. Cody’s tone was patronizing, he knew that, but sometimes there was no getting through to his stubborn workaholic of a General. Cody crossed his arms. “They were about this Qui-Gon Jinn I’ve been hearing so much about recently.”

Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It’s late. You should be sleeping.”

“You said some things that I need clarification on, lest I jump to some very uncomfortable conclusions."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Commander," Obi-Wan said, his voice steely. 

"If you don’t tell me, I’ll go to Funny. I don’t see how he couldn’t be aware of your nightmares. You were on bedrest for a week, and I doubt there's much else to do apart from sleep.”

“Nightmares?”

“You’re clearly only running on caff and Force knows what else. It’s affecting you. Funny knows, doesn’t he?”

“Knows what? ”

“Knows what the kriff happened on Kadavo!”

“Nothing happened on Kadavo!” Obi-Wan snapped, hitting his palm on the desk. Cody stepped back. The General sighed, took a deep breath, and lowered his voice. He’d been off since he came back—Cody had been on edge, waiting for something like this to happen. “Read the mission report. It's well within your power to do so.”

“I—”

“I’m talking right now, Commander. It would be good if you could listen. I appreciate your concern, I really do, but Kadavo was just a mission gone wrong. I’m okay. And I will not repeat myself again.”

“You’re a brilliant General, but a terrible liar.”

“Cody—”

“I’m off to medical. Let's see if Funny's story matches yours.” The Commander spun on his heel and stalked back the way he came. 

“Come on, Cody, don’t—” Kenobi’s protests fizzled out as he shut the door behind him. He was left standing in the empty, quiet corridor. There was a chill in the air. There was an eeriness to the ship when most of the troops were asleep. There was an absence of life. Like a battlefield after both sides had moved on. Dead quiet. Peaceful.

He sent a comm to Funny to meet him at the medbay, asleep or not. He was going to have a long-overdue conversation. His General was a tough bastard. But he was tougher.

Chapter Text

“Well?” Funny led Cody past the sleeping and unconscious troops and into his office. As the door shut, Funny couldn’t help but grin. “Sometimes I feel like a spy in my own medbay. Sneaking around, having quiet conversations in the hall with you. What is it this time? Did General Kenobi—”

“What happened on Kadavo, Funny? The General’s not been the same ever since he got back, and now with all this Qui-Gon nonsense? He’s not doing well, and I want to know what I can do.”

Funny looked at the door to the office, then back to Cody. A thin smile crept onto his face. “That’s confidential. You know I can’t break protocol. With an attitude like that, you might as well throw away the whole rulebook.”

“Well, Funny, if I’m asking you to break protocol, then it must be serious, eh?”

“It’s not that. If I tell you what happened,” Funny shook his head and let out a small chuckle. “You’ll talk to the General. He’ll know I told you. I’ll be sent back to Kamino. I can’t go back there”

Cody had only heard stories of what the Kaminoans did to clones sent back to retraining. He didn’t spend much time on the planet after he was deployed, and didn’t think he wanted to. The way Funny spoke of the place… he must’ve seen some of these stories. 

“The General isn’t like that. He’s never sent anyone back to Kamino.”

“But—”

“I’ll speak on your behalf. I’ll tell him I made you tell me. You will not go back to Kamino if I have anything to say about it. I don’t want to have to report the General unfit for duty.”

“You’d do that?”

“If it would help him.” Cody crossed his arms. If General Kenobi made a mistake, cost his brothers their lives, he could never forgive himself. He would do whatever he had to. Even if it hurt.

Funny pinched his brow. “I’ve been in more battalions than I can count but I have never seen a Commander as… relentless as you. Are you sure you and the General aren’t a couple?”

“Don’t make me rethink sticking up for you.”

Funny sat back in his chair. A looked entered his eyes, a look of uncertainty and hesitance. It soon gave way to one of reluctant sorrow. “How much do you know about Kadavo?”

“It was some sort of facility for slaves. The General got pretty roughed up. Rex, from the 501st, was there with him. And now the General looks to be in poor health and has been having nightmares.”

“You know about the nightmares?”

“I made an educated guess.”

“You’ve got the basics. On Kadavo, Rex and General Kenobi nearly died.” Funny began rifling through the datapads, found what he was looking for, and handed it to Cody. It was the file on General Kenobi, dated the day after he was recovered from Kadavo. Cody scanned over the injuries. He had to look away, realizing his eyes were beginning to sting. “On Kadavo, the General began… hallucinating. He believed he was having visions. Some were about the past, others about the future. He never told me what he saw, but the visions were clearly worse than the injuries. After he mostly recovered, he began to have little… blips. Moments of confusion, mistaking a trooper for someone else. Little things. We called it ‘aftershock’. Then, when he passed out… I should have seen it coming. And you’re right, about the nightmares. He talks in his sleep. Sometimes, I can get a good idea of what he’s seeing. Other times…” Funny bit down on his hand to stop himself from laughing. “Sorry.”

“Like what?”

“The nightmares? Sometimes, he’s back on Kadavo. Other times, he’ll mention names. Qui-Gon Jinn. Cerasi. Vader. He’ll say phrases: ‘I loved you’, ‘My friend truly is dead’. There’s a lot of pleading. It hurts to watch.” 

“Do you know what any of it means?”

“I was hoping you would.”

“So, trooper, what do you think we should do next?” Cody straightened up, handing the datapad back to Funny, who looked lost despite the grin on his face.

“I think we shouldn’t do anything.”

“What?”

“Qui-Gon is here in three days. Two, actually, given what hellish time of night it is. He and the two Generals will work something out. This is a bunch of Force- osik that people like us can’t even hope to understand.”

“We will be here if he needs, but let Skywalker do all the heavy lifting?” Cody said enthusiastically. He didn’t like the sound of that. Funny sighed.

“I don’t see any other solution. Why don’t we give the Generals a few days. If General Kenobi is… if he isn’t feeling any better, then we can do things your way, however meddling they may end up being.” Cody nodded, reluctantly. He patted the table.

“Thanks, brother.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

- - | - -

Obi-Wan Kenobi paced. Some of his men—far from all of them, but enough for it to look like a respectful welcoming—stood at attention in the landing bay. Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Rex had already boarded a shuttle. They were due any moment. Obi-Wan increased his pace. 

Anakin was right: He hadn’t said a word to Qui-Gon yet. He’d only seen a glitchy, distorted version of his master over comms. Even then, he tried not to look. He sounded the way he remembered, mostly. But was he the same man ? Did that experience in the power station all those years ago change him? 

He hated feeling conflicted. Peace came with being a Jedi: you knew right from wrong. They dealt in facts and logic, or the other extreme: the Force. And it was so easy to just push your emotions aside and focus on the mission, the beating of your heart, the logic. But when Qui-Gon's name was mentioned, he was a flood of contradictions. 

He shouldn’t be back - I can’t wait to see him

Will he be different? - I hope he’s the same

Does he see me as his Padawan still? - I hope he sees me differently

Will he realize his wrong? - I hope he doesn’t bring anything up

I hate him - I love him

Wasn’t war hard enough without something like this happening? 

But his anxieties didn’t lie solely in his old master. Anakin was coming, too. Their last mission together was on Zygerria, approaching three weeks ago. It had been very rough for Anakin, given his previous experience with slavers. And then Obi-Wan and Rex were whisked to Kadavo. After that, he’d been returned straight to his ship, the Negotiator. He hadn’t been able to check in with Anakin yet. Hopefully he and Rex confided in one another. It was not a light experience, and they could both relate to one another. Bottling up something like that, it would do no good for Anakin. And Rex was a good soldier, one of the best. He couldn’t be burdened by something like that. 

These last few days had been… he knew Cody was watching him. After their disagreement a few nights ago, Cody hadn’t left him alone for five minutes. And Funny was looking at him strangely, too, whenever they passed in the halls. His mind was wracked with guilt. 

Obi-Wan put the dots together quickly. 

A hand rested on his shoulder, stopping him mid-stride. “Cody?”

“You okay, sir?” Even with his bucket on, Obi-Wan could tell he was concerned. He flashed a smile. 

“How long unt—” The ship shifted around them. He looked up at the main hangar doors, which shook as they rattled open. Obi-Wan moved away from Cody and stood centered, releasing the mountain of dread he felt into the force. He closed his eyes and tried not to imagine facing down the metal beast that had brought Qui-Gon back to him. Tried not to hear the whirring of the shuttle as it approached. 

I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.

The shuttle landed with a harsh clank. He opened his eyes. He braced himself as the contradictions began flooding his mind. 

I hate him - I love him

Cody straightened beside him. The shuttle shut down. 

The door opened.

- - | - -

Qui-Gon was baffled by the sheer size of the Republic starships. Sure, they existed when he was still… before, but he rarely went in them. With Anakin leading the way and the clone… something with an R… beside him, he stepped into the larger open hangar. There, standing in that diplomatic way that he always did, was Obi-Wan. Behind him, three rows of troops, no more than twenty. They stood at attention. Qui-Gon felt a wave of pride wash over him. His boy was so grown up.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, my old padawan,” He said, hearing the pride he felt seep through into his voice. Obi-Wan’s cool exterior melted as he smiled warmly. 

“Master.” 

Anakin and the clone stopped a few metres from Obi-Wan, but Qui-Gon walked right up to his old padawan and wrapped him in a hug. He didn’t notice Obi-Wan begin to shy away before Qui-Gon could pull them together. He still felt their bond, distant and unused, hum happily at their reunion. 

“Anakin tells me you did a good job teaching him.” Qui-Gon stepped back, still holding Obi-Wans shoulders. 

“I’m glad he thinks so,” Obi-Wan’s eyes darted to Anakin, then back to those of his old Master. “How are you getting used to things?”

“It’s all a bit strange. This accursed war, for one. The poor padawans, growing up in war like this. I couldn’t imagine.” He shook his head, eyes settling on the clones behind Obi-Wan.

“Not all of us had to imagine.” Obi-Wan said softly. Qui-Gon darted his eyes back to his old padawan.

“Meaning?”

“You know.” 

Qui-Gon smiled tightly. “I have to admit, I was shocked when I learnt you were on the Jedi High Council.”

“You didn’t think I’d be powerful enough?” It wasn’t meant as an accusation, but as a truth. Obi-Wan was taken on as a padawan very late, and was frequently behind his peers in skill. Qui-Gon shook his head.

“I always knew you were capable. I just didn’t think you’d be so foolish.”

Obi-Wan bristled at that. He always knew of Qui-Gon’s disgust at the council. Why had he expected anything else? He saw Cody shift beside him, and imagined all the ways he was about to tell off his General’s old Master. Before Cody could say a word, Obi-Wan spoke up.

“I couldn’t exactly ask you for your blessing.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, even if I was alive. I just imagined you’d be a bit less… devoted to the code.”

“Without the code, the Jedi are nothing.”

“Yes, but a little independence doesn’t hurt now and again.”

“I thought you hated how rebellious I was.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Or did you just not like it when I disobeyed you .” Qui-Gon's thin smile disappeared.

“I didn’t like how you refused to see my logic.”

“You never had logic. You’d make a decision, be wrong, and say ‘the Force guided your actions’.” 

“Who taught you it was okay to speak to your Master like that?” Qui-Gon’s words were harsh more than anything. 

“Certainly not you. You made your opinions on the obedience of padawans very clear, many times.”

“Well clearly I didn’t do a good enough job at—”

“Pardon me,” Anakin cleared his throat, attracting glares from both of his… masters? His master and grandmaster? “Maybe you should continue this conversation in… in private.”

“I think we’ve both said all we needed to. Don’t you agree, Master Jinn?”

“I do. Why don’t you show me around the place, Anakin? I take it you spend a lot of time here.” Qui-Gon turned his back to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan nodded almost imperceptibly to Anakin, who was looking at him curiously. Reluctantly, Anakin looked at Qui-Gon and nodded. Anakin felt confused. Unsure. Obi-Wan watched as Anakin led Qui-Gon out of the hangar. 

“Sir?” Commander Cody started once the three had left. Obi-Wan shook his head. 

“Tell the men to get back to work.” He didn’t take his eyes off the shrinking shapes of Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Rex. Cody was about to protest. “Please, Commander.”

Cody turned to his troops. “That's enough of a show for today. You heard the General. Back to work.” When Cody turned to ask his General a question, the man was half way to the door. He could follow him, ask what the hell had just happened. But he was walking on thin ice with Kadavo already. And judging from the look on Rex’s face, this conflict was in good hands.

Chapter Text

Qui-Gon walked ahead, Anakin and Rex trailing behind him at a distance. The Jedi Master would stop every so often to ask Anakin and Rex a question about the ship, or to indulge conversation with a passing trooper. At one point, he turned around and asked:

“Are you still interested in pod racing, Anakin?” This brought out a smile in the Jedi Knight.

“Do you even need to ask that?” After a moment's contemplation, Qui-Gon continued.

“Have you been back to Tatooine?”

“Once, with Padmé.” Anakin’s smile faded. “When my mother died.”

“I’m sorry, my boy. That must have been tough.” 

“It was.”

“Why was Queen Amidala there?”

Anakin blushed, feeling a smug look from Rex. “She’s Senator Amidala now. And she was helping me. We’re… friends.”

Qui-Gon made a hum of amusement and stepped to the side as a group of clones passed. 

“What do you think about Master Qui-Gon, Rex?” Anakin whispered, keeping his eyes on the back of his master's head. 

“He’s…” Rex tightened his jaw. “I like him, sir.”

“Good. I know sometimes people tend to be a bit paranoid with this war and everything.”

“But, sir, don’t you think it’s a bit… I mean, what the kriff happened back there?” Rex was trying to keep his voice low enough that Qui-Gon couldn’t hear them. 

Anakin sighed. “Obi-Wan’s just on edge from Kadavo. And Qui-Gon’s overwhelmed. They’re both stressed out. Things’ll settle.”

Rex shuddered at the mention of that place. He’d been with General Kenobi, seen first-hand the hell the man went through. He himself was only beginning to shake off the dread, the urge to flinch whenever someone made a quick movement. The nightmares were only beginning to become bearable.

“If you say so, sir.”

“Rex, even if you’re not completely sold on him, don’t—just stay out of it. Both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon have a lot on their plates.”

Rex let Anakin strike up a conversation with Qui-Gon as he slowed his pace and dipped into a doorway. He opened his comm and sent Ahsoka a message. Ahsoka, who had stayed back on the Resolute and was to lead a small group of their men into the base. The 212th Commander and the four Jedi would accompany them. 

I think you should come aboard the Negotiator once you've briefed the men. I’ll tell you everything tonight.

After the message was sent, Rex jogged to catch up with Anakin and Qui-Gon. Anakin shot him a look over his shoulder, but Rex didn’t acknowledge it. 

- - | - -

Count Dooku’s ship stayed far enough away so that neither the Resolute nor the Negotiator were in sight. The Malevolence, however, was. Grievous would put up a faux defence on the base whilst Dooku kept watch from afar. He would let the Jedi do the work. He didn’t want to hurt any of them—not today, at least—but just know what they did. 

His mind, as it always seemed to do nowadays, wandered back to Qui-Gon’s padawan years. Even before he knew about his revival, he had been visited by the young boys serious gaze in his dreams. He took on Qui-Gon Jinn because of the boys independence. He admired it, saw himself in Qui-Gon. He had always been wise. 

Dooku remembered the ordeal with Senator Dagonet’s son. The mission was trivial enough, but its memory had stayed with him all these years. That was one of the first times he truly felt angry. He had nearly killed the senator, and if it wasn’t for Qui-Gon’s quick thinking, he would have. He remembered using the force to slam his padawan against the barn doors. He shuddered in a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. That was the only time he had ever intentionally harmed Qui-Gon. It still haunted him, despite the knowledge that Qui-Gon had almost certainly not thought of it in a very long time. 

Helping the boy grow into the Jedi he turned out had been the best years of his life. Eventually, he had stopped seeing him as a padawan, but as a son instead. And his boy was back. He was alive. And he could do nothing but lurk in the shadows and watch. Qui-Gon had asked him why Dooku didn’t take him with him. The answer was simple. Qui-Gon Jinn belonged with the Jedi, not the Separ—not the sith . And Dooku was certainly no Jedi.

Yaddle had proved that.

When he first realized Qui-Gon was alive, his mind flashed with the things he needed to tell him. The places they needed to visit. But then he came back to reality. He knew now that Qui-Gon was no trick. He was real. What Dooku didn’t yet know was whether Sidious knew. 

What was he even doing? Sneaking around behind his lord's back. He had postponed the Box for this. Dooku wanted to have an answer to that question, but he just… he just didn’t. He wanted to know why Qui-Gon was back. He wanted the Separatists to know what the Republic did. He wanted to see Qui-Gon’s face. 

He needed to come up with a good excuse as to why he was meddling with a destroyed base on some backwater planet called Kaiscen instead of winning a war.

- - | - -

Cody was scared. 

Funny told Cody not to get involved. To stay out of it. To leave the Force- osik to the Jedi, where it belonged. Cody just couldn’t do that. He spent the day keeping eyes on General Kenobi. With the incident that morning, the strange fight that almost broke out between the two Jedi, he was expecting his General to lock himself away in his room and work on obtaining armor for the troops, working out food shipments, ready the recent list of casualties. Cody had eyes on the General most of the day, excluding the short period after the incident that morning where he was no where to be found. This would not have scared Cody.

What scared Cody was that his General did none of that. He was completely normal. Well, for the General. He still hardly ate or drank, but that was normal (although it shouldn’t be).

He spoke with troopers, practiced katas, and he did work on the datapads for a good chunk of the day, but not in the solitude of his chamber. No, in a corner of the mess hall. A trooper would come round ever so often, they’d talk, and Obi-Wan would continue working with a content smile on his face. 

Cody was more than scared. Cody was kriffing terrified. 

Near the end of the day, Cody gave a small group of troopers the briefing for the trip down to Kaiscen tomorrow. He lost eyes on General Kenobi, but heard a familiar voice as he passed medical.

“I don’t think I need it, Funny.” That prim Coruscanti accent nearly made Cody jump. He looked in medbay and took in the scene. The General was staring at a small bottle being handed to him by their chief medic.

“Big day tomorrow. You need rest.”

“But—”

“No buts.” 

General Kenobi then leaned forward, whispering something to Funny that was lost beneath the loud hum of the medbay. It was emptier than when Obi-Wan was here before, but not by much. A bad flu had been going around, caused by the bad weather and freezing mud of their previous mission. When Obi-Wan had his vision.

Not his first. 

Funny responded quietly, Obi-Wan sighed, and came towards Cody. As he passed, the General smiled at him. “Hello, Cody. Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel fine, sir. Why?”

“Well,” General Kenobi gestured behind him. “This is the medbay, my dear Commander.”

“Yes. It is. I just need a quick word with Funny about this flu that’s going around. When we can expect the men to be at their best and all that.” Cody felt warm as the General placed a hand on his soldier.

“Good man, Cody.” The Commander watched his General go with butterflies in his stomach. 

Good man, Cody. 

“Are you just going to stand there gawking like a Gundark?” A vod called—Funny, he assumed. He was proven correct as he snapped his head to the senior medic who looked at him with a grin. “Or are you going to join me in my office?” Cody followed Funny into the back office. As the door swung shut, Funny bit down on his fist to stop himself from laughing.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing? I leave the medbay now and again, you know. I’ve seen you following the General like—”

“Why a Gundark?” 

“What? I’m scolding you right now, Cody.” 

“Gawking like a Gundark. Do Gundark’s gawk?”

“It’s— it’s because their jaws open really wide, and hang open. And so I’m implying that your mouth was hanging wide open for him.”

“Hm. Okay. Well, I’ve decided to actually do something with the information you gave me.”

“Force, Cody, I thought I told you to stay out of it!”

“Why? Did you see what happened this morning?”

Funny shook his head. “I’ve heard, though.”

“News travels fast. Qui-Gon and the General got into an argument. And then the General acts completely normal for the rest of the day? That’s not normal, Funny, and definitely not healthy.”

“Anakin will handle it. He and the General are close. He can do more than we can.” 

“Why are you so kriffing intent on leaving this to the Jedi?”

“Because he talks to me, Cody!” Funny snapped, followed by a bubble of laughter he failed to suppress. “Sorry, Commander. The General talks to me. Not about everything but about enough to let me know that it is not our place to intervene. But who am I kidding.” he slumped back into his chair. “You know the General better than I do. Maybe it’s just not my place.”

“What the kriff is going on, Funny?”

“I shouldn't have told you about Kadavo. I don’t feel good about telling you anything else. I don’t want to betray that trust.” Funny put up a finger, stopping Cody as he opened his mouth to protest. “However. The ship has a digital archive synced with some areas of the Jedi archives. If you look in the right places, search through the right reports, you’ll find things. You’ll understand exactly why I’m so hesitant to tell you anything, and why I think this is a matter for the Jedi to deal with.”

Cody absorbed that information, only becoming more confused. “What do I need to search for?”

“Anything from before Qui-Gon’s death. But that’s all you’re getting out of me. Thank Force I’m not a soldier, eh?” Funny said, standing up and leading Cody to the door. 

“What?”

“If I got captured, I'd spill all of our secrets before they could even say the word 'torture'. The Republic would fall in a day. Me and my big mouth.”

Funny proceeded to practically kick him out of medbay, murmuring some half-hearted excuse about Cody needing sleep. Standing in the hallway, he mulled over everything Funny had told him. What had the man been so hesitant about telling him? There was something going on here. Something that made a lump form in his throat. Commander Cody had the feeling that this would be a very long night. He turned and set off for the ship archives.

Chapter Text

“And then Qui-Gon asked Anakin and I to give him a tour.” Rex finished summarizing the day's events to Ahsoka, who leant against the wall. They were in Rex’s quarters, and it was late. 

“How did they act later? Did Qui-Gon do or say anything else strange?”

Rex shook his head. “He didn’t say another word about General Kenobi.”

“And Anakin? Oblivious as ever?”

“Yes, Commander. But by the look on my vod’s faces today, the 212th knows something's up.”

“Good. I’ve been thinking… These starships usually have an archive room. Rarely used, but there. I’ll do some research on Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan never spoke about him, and I doubt Anakin knows anything more than the things Qui-Gon has said, which could be lies.”

“I’ll keep an eye on Jinn.” 

Ahsoka smiled thankfully, and was about to leave, when she turned back to him. “You don’t think I’m paranoid, do you?”

Rex shook his head. “Not at all. I don’t know much about the Jedi, but I don’t think that’s the way you’re supposed to treat your… padawan?”

“You’re right. Anakin’s never used that tone with me, and I’m willing to bet that Obi-Wan never did with him.” She smiled. “You’re catching on to the lingo.” 

Rex smiled. “Have a good night, Ahsoka. Tell me what you find.” 

- - | - -

The door whooshed open, and a blast of cold air made him step back. The doorway opened into a void of darkness, distant lights blinking sleepily. He swallowed, turned on the flashlight on his vambrace, and stepped inside. 

His light illuminated only a few meters in front of him, and what Cody assumed to be a small room quickly became a large hall. The walls were lined with shelves filled with datapads, and Cody spent nearly ten minutes trying to locate—there it was. A table showing a dimly flickering holographic image of the digital files. He approached and skimmed over some of the files. A lot of it was information about nearby systems and their corresponding file number, but according to Funny, there would be something in here that could dispel some of his confusion.

Cody was getting mixed signals from Funny. First, the man knows nothing about the General’s hallucinations and seems just as in-the-dark as Cody. Then, he’s told to keep an eye on the General. Then to leave well enough alone. And now he’s being sent on a wild goose chase through the ship archives, a place Cody hadn’t yet set foot in. How did the medic even know—

He turned, heartbeat spiking. He heard a creak, or something. A noise. A door shutting. He shone his light but found nothing but shelves of datapads. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and began to type.

Qui-Gon Jinn

As soon as he pressed enter, the screen flashed a warning.

Confidential. Please Enter Jedi Access Code.

Kriff. Funny hadn’t mentioned anything about needing a passcode. He drummed his fingers against the table but came up blank. He gasped as he heard a sound behind him— right behind him—but as he turned, fist clenched and ready, he heard a familiar voice.

“Cody?” Ahsoka Tano, General Skywalker's padawan, stepped back. He dropped his fist. 

“Commander Tano. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same to you,” Ahsoka’s eyes glanced over his shoulder, “With the additional question on why you’re trying to access confidential Jedi files.”

He let his shoulders slump. “It’s a long story, I—”

“Is it about Qui-Gon Jinn?” He nodded. “Then no explanation needed. Here.” She stepped forward, her fingers danced across the keyboard until the warning disappeared. The Jedi files on Qui-Gon began to load. Cody’s eyes widened.

There were countless mission logs, spanning multiple pages. He probably should have been more specific. 

“The most recent one is about his death. These include his missions with Dooku, his time at the temple, way before he took on Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka said. “We want logs dated after Obi-Wan was taken on, but before Qui-Gon died.” Ahsoka tapped the keyboard a few more times before the files decreased by nearly two-thirds. “Here.”

“What in particular are we looking for?” Cody asked over her shoulder. 

“I guess we’ll know it when we see it.” Each file was given a short name, some of them being planets that Cody recognized. Ahsoka clicked on one. They read a few sentences of the report written by Qui-Gon. It was a routine mission on some isolated outer-rim planet. Nothing stuck out to Cody or Ahsoka.

So they opened the next.

And then the next.

And something became very clear to Cody. 

“Something’s not right here,” He said as Ahsoka loaded page two. “The first few, when General Kenobi was younger, they’re written way differently from the later ones.”

“I noticed it too. Maybe they weren’t written by the same people?”

“One set written by Jinn, the other by Kenobi?” Ahsoka nodded. “Do padawans fill out mission logs?”

“Only if the Master is unable to.” There was a note of resignation in Ahsoka’s voice. “This… this isn’t right.”

The file she’d opened was nearly empty, much of it redacted. He read the name:

Melida / Daan

“Why’s so much of it gone?”

“Someone must have—”

“There,” Cody said, pointing to a note in the upper right corner. There was a message detailing how the file had been edited only a few years ago.

“That’s definitely not right.” Ahsoka leaned forward, reading what little she could. 

The mission report, written by ‘Qui-Gon Jinn’ had only a handful of facts. Jinn and padawan Kenobi had been sent to rescue Master Tahl after a failed negotiation attempt with Melida. Whilst on the war-torn planet of Melida / Daan, Master Tahl was discovered on the brink of death. Qui-Gon Jinn returned to Coruscant without his padawan, who… who left the Jedi Order to stay and fight in the civil war. 

Cody closed his mouth, realizing it had fallen open. 

Left the Jedi Order.

The General… he’d never mentioned anything like this. Cody stepped forward and clicked on another file. 

Redacted.

Then another.

Redacted. 

Another. 

Redacted.

Nearly all of the missions after Melida / Daan, the ones written differently, had been edited and redacted around the same time a few years ago, near the very beginning of the war. Cody swore and looked down at Ahsoka, who had been oddly quiet. She looked devastated. 

“I think something very bad happened on Melida / Daan.”

- - | - -

The Comm shut off. Funny breathed deeply, letting his head fall into his hands. His hands which shook. He wanted to cry. Instead, he choked out a laugh. Funny was sitting alone in his office, datapads sprawled on the desk. Another late night. He bit down on his fist, begging his mind to just work right for once in his force-forsaken life. He clenched his jaw, feeling nothing but laughter bubbling up in his throat. He bit harder.

What have I gotten myself into?

“Kriff!” He slammed his other hand onto the table as blood stung on his tongue. He cut his hand again. He was bandaging his wound when his comm rang. He swore, expecting to see a certain number as he went to answer. What he saw, he did not expect. Within five minutes, he pounded his bandaged fist against the General’s chamber door. He was wary of being seen, and glanced down the hallway every other second. After what felt like ages, the door swung open.

“Funny,” Kenobi stood in the doorway, a smile fracturing on his face. Funny pushed his way inside and closed the door before looking either way down the hall one last time. 

“I got your comm, sir. What happened?” He asked. Kenobi sat at his desk and leant back.

“Those pills didn’t work. They just made it worse.” Funny felt a lump settle in his throat.

“Another nightmare?” his General hesitated, then nodded. “Do you want to talk about it.”

“No,” His General didn’t seem tense, like he did during their previous late-night meetings. He just seemed exhausted as he dragged his palm down his face. “I just want to sleep.”

“We’ve tried everything I can get my hands on. Maybe talking would help.” Funny said softly, trying not to come off too strong. 

I am counting on you, Funny. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Kenobi looked at something just over Funny’s shoulder. Kenobi opened his mouth, but a moment passed before he spoke. “I’m so scared. The way of the Jedi is not one of fear. Fear leads to hate, hate leads to suffering, and suffering leads to the darkside. I feel like I’m counting down the days until this… terror I feel will give way to hate.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with being scared, sir,” Funny said. His voice was light, and he spoke without realizing exactly what he was saying. “I’m scared all the time. I’ve been scared ever since I was born. First the Kaminoans, then the war. Yet that fear hasn’t led me to hate. It's only led me to... it's led me to enlightenment.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes. A long silence passed. When they opened, Funny saw a rare kind of grief he hadn’t seen since… he swallowed.

“I feel less and less like a Jedi these days.”

“And more like what?”

“A soldier.” Kenobi sighed. “I think I want to try and sleep now. Thank you, Funny, for humoring me. I’m sorry to have woken you.”

“It’s not a problem, sir.” Funny was halfway out the door when he turned back to his General, who was still sitting at the desk. Funny remembered what Cody had said. If it helps him. “Sir… maybe… maybe it might be helpful to take a little break.”

“Pardon me?”

“To take a break. From the war, sir. I could—”

“No.” Kenobi realized his voice had been harsh, and continued with a softer tone. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. When you live one way for so long, it’s difficult to…” He was struggling to find the words.

“I understand, sir. Sleep well.” He closed the door.

Funny slumped his back against the dark hallway wall. He let his head hit against the wall, the pain a welcome distraction from the shit he was drowning in. He looked down at his bandaged hand, where the blood had already began to stain his bandage. He'd need a shot or two. The mouth contains bacteria that could put him out of this war for good. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Obi-Wan Kenobi’s words stuck with the clone trooper.

Funny himself was feeling less and less like a medic, but more and more like a soldier.

Chapter Text

“And if you say a word of this to Count Dooku,” Sidious’s voice slithered through the air. “I will personally tear you bolt from bolt and drain the oil from your desecrated scrap. Do I make myself clear?” He enunciated each word, tossing them over in his mouth, before spitting them out at General Grievous. Grievous was on the surface of Kaiscen, awaiting the incoming assault from the Republic now that the Resolute had arrived. 

“Yes.” He shut off the comm. Dooku was somewhere nearby, whether on his ship or the surface, but it didn’t matter. Grievous would crush the Jedi. At first, he had been sent to discover the source of the disturbance which had caused their base to nearly fall, and most of their droids to deactivate. When Sidious first told him to go to Kaiscen and handle it himself, he was confused. Why would a General such as he be sent on a mission like this? He’d been quite offended, at first. 

But then Dooku got involved, and he realized why Sidious sent him . He rested his arms around his back and began to pace in front of the entrance to the base. Sidious had told him many things. Many very interesting things. 

Kaiscen was still around the chaos of the camp. The trees were massive, looming far above. Their branches twisted out, bundles of dark green leaves spreading out across the clear blue sky. It was distinctly laking in any sort of life whatsoever, apart from the plants. It was completely silent. Grievous had been unnerved at first, but easily brushed it off. He chuckled to himself, earning a look from a passing battle droid. He would have kicked it, thrown it, or stabbed it, but restrained himself. There were four Jedi on their way. Luckily, Grievous had one lightsaber waiting for each of them. 

- - | - -

The shuttle rattled around them. Obi-Wan gripped the hanging strap so hard his knuckles turned white. Anakin and Qui-Gon stood beside him, along with a handful of 212th troopers. Ahsoka, Cody, Rex, and a group of the 501st were in the second shuttle, alongside a smaller group of medics and extra equipment in shuttle three. 

The mood was tense. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan practically refused to speak a word to one another if it wasn’t necessary or pertaining to the mission. Obi-Wan rubbed at his eyes. After Funny left, he actually had gotten a good few hours of sleep. But he wasn’t his typical edgy, adrenaline-filled tense. Now, he was a tired, heavy sort of tense. Anakin and Obi-Wan were to lead in the front. Ahsoka and Rex would each lead a small group to their left and right to catch Grievous off guard through the treeline. Qui-Gon would be with Cody and the 212th taking up their flank. He had reluctantly accepted a blaster. He would get a new lightsaber made once on Coruscant after they dealt with Kaiscen. Obi-Wan hoped this ordeal could be over soon. They could finish up here quickly, drop Qui-Gon off on Coruscant, and finish this blasted war. 

The council had been alerted to Grievous's presence, but Obi-Wan had refused the offered back up. There were two battalions and four Jedi. They could take on that scum. 

They landed at dusk, and an hour passed before everyone arrived at the rendezvous point. They set up a small camp, unloaded the equipment, and pulled up a small tent for medical care. The camp was quiet. Anakin and Qui-Gon stood beside the spare-armor filled crate and had a hushed conversation. They were to head out in a few minutes. Obi-Wan couldn’t help himself, he’d had enough of watching from the side through bated breath. He gathered his courage and approached. 

“Master Qui-Gon. Anakin.”

“Are we heading out now?” Anakin asked, looking between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

“Not yet, but soon. We’re just waiting on a couple more things. Master, I just wanted to say,” he met eyes with his Master, who seemed to sense the sombre melancholy of the camp. “You’ve never seen war before, and might be overwhelmed. You’re staying on the flank with Commander Cody. If you need to, don’t be afraid to alert Commander Cody and head back here. The medics will help if you’re injured.” 

Qui-Gon smiled warmly, something that filled Obi-Wan with hope.

Maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. I will keep that in mind. However,” And that was it. Of course there was a but. “Anakin and I were thinking, maybe I join you two up front. I’d love to see what you two are capable of.” Obi-Wan released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. That wasn’t as bad as he thought.

“But you don’t have a lightsaber, Master.” Qui-Gon held out his hand, revealing the hilt of a lightsaber. “Where did you get that?”

“It’s a training lightsaber from one of the sparring droids on the Resolute. Anakin gave it to me. I know they’re non-lethal, but that’s against living things. It can still cut through a droid.”

Obi-Wan looked at the lightsaber. It may be fun to fight alongside his old Master again. He smiled. “Of course. I’ll tell Commander Cody.” Obi-Wan walked away, holding his breath. They had been civil. Maybe—
“General Kenobi?” Cody appeared beside him out of nowhere. He smiled at the man, indicating for him to continue. “We’re all ready, sir.”

“Good. And Qui-Gon will not be with your troopers. He’ll be up front with Anakin and I.” Cody seemed to hesitate, something that sent a spike of confusion through Obi-Wan. But the Commander, quickly becoming aware of his lapse in stoicism, nodded. 

“Yes, sir. Good luck,” He added, signalling for his troopers to round up. 

“Cody,” Obi-Wan called back. “There’s no such thing as luck.”

“Right, sir. May the Force be with you.”

Obi-Wan’s smile wavered. “May it be with us all.”

- - | - -

Ahsoka crept between the dark silhouettes as darkness fell over Kaiscen. The group of 501st troopers she led through the trees became outlines. At this moment, Rex would be leading his troopers to the either side of the Separatist back to attack Grievous from behind. Cody’s men would be behind Anakin, Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan, who would be engaging Grievous from the front. 

As the outline of the base appeared, blaster fire started up. She signalled for her men to advance. Once Rex was in position, he’d send her the signal, and they’d attack the Separatists flank. Her men gathered, and just through the treeline she could see the faint blue light and hear the crackling of lightsabers as her Masters fought. Then she heard it, the call of a bird native to Shili, the Togruta home planet. 

“Go, go, go!” She hissed, activating her lightsabers. With her men following right behind, she leaped head first into battle.

She struck down one droid, then two. A shot flew past her head. She deflected another. A clone fell to the ground beside her. Another screamed behind. She deflected. She lunged. Something exploded to her right. She heard Anakin yell something. A shot. A deflection. A lunge. She was doused in sweat, grime hung to her skin. Something hard and metal hit her in the face. She tripped, pushed herself to her elbows. Spat out blood. Grabbed her weapons. Lunged.

- - | - -

The crackling of electricity was deafening as Obi-Wan deflected hit after hit from Grievous. Grievous was furiously trying to fend off the three Jedi, but couldn’t keep up between the violent assault of Ataru, endless defence of Soresu, and whatever Anakin was doing. Obi-Wan flinched back as something exploded behind Grievous. He wasn’t on his game today, he knew that. He kept glancing at Qui-Gon, who looked like a padawan with the white training blade. But Grievous was easy to defend against, especially in this overwhelmed state the Jedi held him in. 

Obi-Wan would deflect, then glance at Qui-Gon, then deflect. Every now and again, he’d lunge and clip Grievous’s metal exterior. The fact that three of Grievous's sabers were shared between Anakin and Qui-Gon and not Obi-Wan, who he had a burning hate for, said a lot about his performance. He just couldn’t focus. 

The only other war Qui-Gon had ever seen was during his short stay on Melida / Daan. That brought Obi-Wan’s mind back. He had gone behind his Masters back, fought for the Young, and Qui-Gon had left him. He remembered the Young. Cerasi. Children fighting against their parents. Parents cutting down their young. All these years later, it made Obi-Wan's heart hurt. He remembered fighting against the adults, blaster in hand. Qui-Gon had taken his lightsaber with him back to Coruscant. 

He snapped back to reality and realized Grievous was slithering away on all fours. Anakin glared at him. “Why’d you stop? I almost had him.”

“What?” The world felt foggy. Anakin’s voice didn’t sound like Anakin. He didn’t look like Anakin. He looked like… “Cerasi?”

Anakin's expression changed as Obi-Wan wavered on his feet. His head hurt, sending waves of nausea through his body. “Obi-Wan? Are you okay?”

Qui-Gon, who was closer to him than Anakin, placed a hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan stepped back and took a deep breath. 

I am one with the force and the force is with me. 

When he opened his eyes, Anakin was Anakin again. He was back on Kaiscen. Qui-Gon was here. He grit his teeth.

“Well, Anakin?” He broke into a sprint after Grievous. “We can’t let him get away, can we?”

- - | - -

Anakin ran after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon hot on his heels. Despite the head start, they were gaining on Grievous, who was headed further and further into the woods. The General stopped suddenly, returning to two feet and activating his four blades. He spun them, making reaching him nearly impossible. Obi-Wan stopped, Anakin caught up, and Qui-Gon stumbled to a stop behind them. The three Jedi were panting. Anakin saw a large wall of stone behind Grievous. The Jedi temple. Obi-Wan raised his saber, a strength in his form that had been lacking earlier. 

“Surrender, Grievous. You seem to have trouble killing one Jedi, let alone three.” Obi-Wan said, his voice echoing through the forest. Grievous growled. 

“You are nothing, Kenobi. Your Order is nothing. We will crush you Jedi like ants!” 

“You talk a lot, Grievous, but can you deliver?” 

“I don’t need to. He will.” Grievous broke into a laugh, then a wheezing cough. Anakin’s heart leaped.

“Who will?” He said, voice breathless, as he raised his lightsaber. 

“You know, Kenobi. You’ve seen it,” Grievous’s voice was teasing. “You’ve seen the downfall of the Jedi.”

Obi-Wan gasped, his arm lowering slightly. Anakin’s eyes darted to his Master. Grievous took his lack in concentration to deactivate his lightsabers and crawl up the vertical wall of the ancient temple. Anakin swore, trying to think of a way to follow him. He ran forward, looked for a foothold on the wall, but found none. A Separatist shuttle passed overhead, stopping above the temple. Anakin cursed and threw his saber hilt onto the ground. 

“What was he talking about?” Qui-Gon’s voice was low as he looked at Obi-Wan. “You’ve had another vision?” 

When Anakin looked at his Master, his anger faded. It looked like he’d seen a ghost. Obi-Wan was pale, practically gasping for breath.

“I don’t know how he knew.” His voice was quiet. Hoarse.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “You’ve had another vision? Have they started again? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—” Obi-Wan leant over and vomited on Qui-Gon's feet. 

“Let’s just get back to the base,” Anakin said, urgency in his tone. “The battle’s not over yet.”

- - | - -

The fight lasted upwards of thirty more minutes. But, eventually, the battle fizzled out and the clones returned to camp. When the three Jedi arrived, they were greeted with silence. Clones had died. More than expected. The atmosphere after a fight like this was always sombre. Respectful. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon hissed, grabbing his former padawans arm as he attempted to wriggle away. “I’m your Master, I need to know these things.”

“Who are you trying to kid, Qui-Gon?” Adrenaline surged in Obi-Wan's veins. Clones had died. More than expected. “I’m not your padawan. I never was.” Obi-Wan ripped his hand from Qui-Gon’s grip. Their short exchange was in high contrast to the quiet of the rest of the camp. That quiet only seemed to grow, and Obi-Wan was not unaware when Anakin and Ahsoka stopped as they emerged from the medical tent.

“What are you talking about?”

“Yoda forced you to take me on! Yet you couldn’t move on from Xanatos, I was always second best! Couldn’t realize the fresh start you’d been given!”

“This battle has clearly taken its toll on you.” Qui-Gon’s voice was kind, a strict contrast to the cold look in his eyes. “Why don’t you sit down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to sit down! I am not your padawan and you will not treat me like one!” Obi-Wan raised an accusatory finger at his master, stepping away. What bothered him the most was that he thought the man was right. This battle had taken its toll, he was sweaty, exhausted, in pain, and thought he might pass out. 

“I admit, we may not have been a perfect fit, but I tried my hardest. I love you and none of this banthashit you’re trying to pull is going to change that.” Obi-Wan almost laughed. This was the first time Qui-Gon had ever told him that. 

“Then you did an awful kriffing job at showing it.” 

An explosion echoed in the distance. The ground shook. Obi-Wan’s legs trembled. He collapsed, but Qui-Gon caught him and pulled him to his feet. The night flashed brightly, like the sun was rising. 

“Xanatos never could have made me half as proud as you do,” He whispered into Obi-Wan’s ear as the loud boom finally arrived at the camp.

As if it meant everything in the world. As if finally telling his Padawan the words he wanted to hear made everything okay.

As if.

The troops covered their ears. When the dust settled, it was Anakin who broke the silence. 

“Something tells me there was something they did not want us to find in that base.”

Chapter Text

The clones searched through the rubble of the base. The medics collected the bodies of those who didn’t make it. Cody flinched at the sheer number. Rex was off, digging through the stone and metal with the rest of their vod. Cody was keeping his eyes out for someone. 

“Funny!” He called over to the clone, who was kneeling over something that used to be alive. He stood up and looked away from his datapad. He was smiling, but his eyes were grim. The man seemed to be glued to the thing.

“Yes, Commander?” He approached. 

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Cody hushed his voice. “I went to the archives last night.”

Funny’s eyes widened. “I-I don’t think we should be talking about this here, sir.” He sputtered. 

“Nobody's listening. We found the file on Melida / Daan. Half of it is edited. How was that supposed to answer my questions? It just made more.”

“I’m putting you down the right path, Cody. I’m showing you what to look for. I can’t give you the answers!” He hissed. 

“Why? This isn’t a game. Why can’t you just tell me?” 

“I’ve already said why. I feel guilty every time I look at the General, knowing that I betrayed him.” Funny began to walk away, but Cody grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“But I’m trying to help him, Funny.” Keeping his voice low was a challenge. 

“Commander Cody!” A voice from the other side of the rubble made his heart leap. He quickly pulled back his hand and looked in the direction of the noise. Rex was making his way towards them, holding something grey in his hand. “We’ve found what looks to be the remains of a machine of some sort. We don’t know what it could have been used for, but I’ve never seen anything like it before. There are lots of broken datapads, probably used…” Rex looked between them. Cody had clearly not done a good job at hiding his annoyance, and he didn’t even want to know the look on Funny’s face. “I’ve interrupted something.”

“You’re close to Commander Tano, right, Captain?” Cody asked before Rex could walk away. 

“Yes,” He replied hesitantly.

“I get a feeling you knew where she was last night.” Rex’s expression hardened.

“She did nothing wrong. The archives are public.”

“I know. I ran into her there, actually. We were both there for the same reasons, more or less. Funny here told me to go to the archives, and I’m trying to figure out what he wanted me—or, Commander Tano and I—to find there.”

“Ahsoka told me what you found this morning.”

“I was just asking Funny what it meant.”

Funny seemed to collapse in on himself. “And I’ve given you my answer.”

Cody sighed. “Where’s Commander Tano, Rex?”

“In the tent with the Generals. They’re all having a big heart to heart about what the kriff happened back there.” Finally someone was actually doing something about all this.

"There's something off about Qui-Gon, don't you think?"

"Ahsoka and I have been trying to figure out what." This made Cody smile. It rejuvenated a speck of lost hope. Ahsoka was a good kid.

“Funny, you’ve been all across the Republic, right?” Cody said, turning his attention back to the shrinking medic.

“Yessir. I never forget a battalion.”

“Before I let you get back to it, I just have one more question. It’s been on my mind since we found that file.”

“Yes?”

“How did you know about the archives?”

Funny shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ve been on many ships. One thing they all have in common is the archive room. It’s pretty closed off, always quiet. Sometimes I go there when I need some space. I got curious, I searched a whole bunch of things up.”

“And the passcode? How did you know it?”

Funny bit down on his bandaged fist in an attempt to stop himself from laughing. “I’m sorry. It was given to me by a Jedi.” He managed to say. 

“Who?”

“General Plo Koon.”

Cody raised an eyebrow. “You served with the 273rd?” 

“Yes. As I said, sir, I’ve been all over the place. I even spent a few weeks with the 501st. If you’ll excuse me?” Cody nodded and Funny scampered off. 

“He’s strange.” Rex watched him go.

“He’s a liar, too.”

After a second, realization dawned on his face. “General Koon leads the 104th.”

“And according to him, Funny ‘never forgets a battalion’.” Cody’s eyes narrowed. He had a very bad feeling about this.

- - | - -

The four Jedi sat on the very edge of camp, hidden from the troopers by a stack of equipment crates. The hum of the camp, of voices, life returning and the happiness of still being alive setting in, it was usually comforting. Not today. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” Ahsoka asked. Ahsoka was sitting with her back to a crate. Anakin was leaning against one, Qui-Gon too, and Obi-Wan paced just in front of them. 

“If by ‘it’ you mean what Grievous said, then yes. I thought that’s why we’re here.” Obi-Wan asked. He was stroking his beard, deep in thought. 

“What did he mean about you seeing the downfall of the Jedi?” Anakin asked. Qui-Gon had been quiet ever since their argument. He’d been contemplative. Obi-Wan had just been downright embarrassed. He didn’t regret a word of what he said, but the timing. In front of all the troops, men who had just lost their brothers, and he was making a scene like that? He stood by his words, but was ashamed nonetheless. 

“As a child, I used to have visions.” Obi-Wan stopped and faced the others. “They went away for a very long time, but they’ve come back since… since Kadavo.” He shuddered at the word. Anakin and Ahsoka nodded in understanding. Obi-Wan expected Qui-Gon to interrupt, to ask what Kadavo was, but that interruption never came. “I’ve seen some things. But I’ve told nobody. I have no idea how he would have known.”

“Have you been projecting into the force accidentally?” Qui-Gon asked. “Sometimes it happens without you being aware. When you were a youngling, you’d have terrible nightmares, and sometimes the other children would have them too. Granted, a far more tame rendition.” Obi-Wan shook his head.

“As a child, even your padawan, I couldn’t control it. But now I can. I can feel one coming, I know how to hold them at bay. I would know.”

“Then it must be the Sith,” Anakin said, as if it were obvious. “Maybe they did something to you. Maybe on Kadavo—”

“I believe that the stress I faced on Kadavo was the inciting incident, but there were no Sith there. We often get so caught up in this war, believing all evil is done by the Sith. But regular people can do evil, too. I’ve been in no contact with any Sith since or during Kadavo, not even the likes of Ventress.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “I don’t think we’re going to find any answers just standing here and talking. We should focus on the mission.”

“But we captured—or, err, destroyed—the base already. It’s over,” Ahsoka said.

“But I still have questions. I want to know why they sent Grievous of all people, and why they didn’t attack the Negotiator for days. Why did the council send us here of all places? And then with the additional detail of there being a long-abandoned Jedi temple…”

“I think you’re overthinking—”

“It will do no harm to scope out the temple. It won’t take more than a few hours and we can be back before sunrise,” Qui-Gon finally spoke. Anakin lightly banged his head against the crate and cursed under his breath.

“Fine!” He crossed his arms. “But we’re bringing a medic in case something happens. I thought you were going to pass out earlier. And don’t think we’re done here. Once we get back aboard the Negotiator, I’m locking us in your quarters until you tell me who the hell ‘Cerasi’ is and everything else that’s been going on. I’m not oblivious as you all think I am.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan saw Ahsoka clamp a hand over her mouth and try not to laugh. Obi-Wan himself let out a small chuckle, eyes darting to Qui-Gon. “Whatever you say, Anakin.”

"I'm going to get Rex."

"And Cody. And if you insist upon bringing a medic, then get Funny. He knows about... what's been going on. He can help."

Anakin nodded, then left. Ahsoka, smiled quickly and muttered some half-hearted excuse before leaving the Master and Padawan alone. A heavy silence on unsaid words settled overtop them like a blanket. 

"You don't use Ataru," Qui-Gon said finally. Obi-Wan nodded.

"I thought Soresu better suited me." Qui-Gon did not respond for a while. 

"I never knew you felt that way. About being second to Xanatos."

"I blame you, but at the same time, I don't. And I've been feeling this... thing. I thought it was hate. But the more I feel it, the more I'm realizing that I don't hate you. I just feel sorry for you. I think we both need to face reality. Neither of us were ready to take on a padawan: not you with me, and not me with Anakin. You should have been his Master," Obi-Wan kicked at the dirt. "He resents me. And I'm worried for him. I think it's my fault he's the way he is. Maybe I didn't tell him he was good enough as much as I should have, or I didn't support him, or... or something. I fear he may fall to the dark side."

"I don't see what you're saying, but I understand your insecurities." Qui-Gon made a non-commental hum. "It's hardly good advice to tell you to not get attached. We're both living beings. Attachment is inherent with life. The best advice I can give is to trust in the force. It is Anakin's destiny to bring balance, and balance in the force means the eradication of the sith. I believe he will achieve this, whether he uses the light side or the dark side to do it. He will always find his way back to the light, you just need to be there to welcome him. If his fall is what is necessary for balance to come, then we must let it happen."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I can't do that to Anakin. I can't just stand back and watch him go down that path."

"Then don't stand back. Get involved. Make him to open up to you. Tell him how you feel. But realize that your fear of the man Anakin is turning into may only fuel his hatred for you."

"You're telling me to encourage his fall? Let it happen?"

"No. I am not telling you to encourage him or support him in this journey. But refusing to accept that Anakin is this way will only make him hate you more. Accept it, show him that he will always have a place if he chooses to come back to the light. That you are still proud of him. That will do more good than trying to help him when he doesn't want to be helped. If you fear that it may be too late for Anakin now, then all you can do is wait until he's ready to come back. It's a waiting game. This is the closest a Jedi can get to parenting. It's tough, isn't it?"

"Do you think the Sith lord has these conversations about his apprentice?" Obi-Wan humored the thought, and suddenly was overcome with the ridiculousness of it all. He, a Jedi master, was asking his no-longer-dead Master parenting advice in the middle of the night on a strange, deserted planet. He laughed. Soon Qui-Gon joined in, and Obi-Wan remembered those handful of times as a padawan they'd done something like this. Been on some strange planet in a ridiculous situation tired and hungry and he'd said something slightly funny and they'd broken down and laughed together. 

It made him laugh harder. 

- - | - -

Dooku watched from a distance. Far enough away so that they wouldn’t sense his presence, but close enough to notice things. With the spike of energy on the planet, he knew something must be important here. And he thought that the Jedi knew something strange was afoot, too. Multiple times he asked himself what the hell he was doing. Every time, he came to the same conclusion: He was protecting his padawan. It was the reason why he hadn’t told Sidious yet. The man would want to do who-knows-what, and Dooku was certain it would not end well for Qui-Gon. He couldn’t let that happen. But he also couldn’t keep Sidious in the dark forever. Hell, Sidious may not even be in the dark. He probably knew something was wrong. He definitely did. It was only a matter of time until he did something that directly affected Dooku. 

The man shook his head and dispelled those thoughts. He would cross that bridge when he got to it. For now, he was a passive observer, waiting for the right moment to act. This war changed a lot of things about him. It changed things that had been a part of him for his entire life. But it could not change the love he had for his son.

Chapter Text

The Jedi temple on Kaiscen bore a vague resemblance to the one on Coruscant. It was the same square pyramid shape, with pillars of stone reaching to the sky. Only every wall was covered in intricate markings. On the few walls where there were no symbols, there were faded and worn images. Partnered with the absence of life of Kaiscen, the silence was eerie and unnerving. The seven of them stood in front of the temple, its darkness an alluring pull. 

“Cody, Rex, Funny, stay out here. If you don’t get a comm from me in thirty minutes then go back to the camp and get back up. We don’t know what could be in there, but there’s gotta be a reason we’re here.” Anakin barked out the orders. “Ahsoka, stick with me.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms. 

“I still think we should just get off this planet,” Anakin muttered to himself as Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon started towards the temple. Ahsoka looked at him, gave him a smile, and ran after the two Jedi Masters. Anakin turned back to the three clones.

“Be ready if we need you. My master almost collapsed during our fight with Grievous.” The medic nodded. Anakin looked back at the temple. In the darkness of the night, the only lights were from the stars and the flashlights on their vambraces, which casted long shadows across the ruins of the once-great Jedi temple. 

Anakin felt some niggling at him. It was a hint of nausea, a knot in his throat, or maybe a heaviness on his shoulders. He wasn’t synced to the time on Kaiscen, to him it felt like midday, so he couldn’t be tired. For once, Anakin understood Obi-Wan’s ‘bad feeling.’

“I’ve never heard of a temple on Kaiscen before,” Ahsoka was saying as Anakin joined them. The path to the door was long, the sides overcome with branches and weeds.

“Neither had I. I looked it up in the ship archives, and only found one mention of it. The illusion of one being here, anyway. The file was the oldest I’ve ever read,” Obi-Wan explained. 

“Do any of you feel that?” Anakin asked, feeling the pit in his stomach grow. Ahsoka shot him a look.

“Feel what?” 

They approached the base of the temple. Stairs snaked up the side of the crumbling building. Anakin planted a foot firmly on it, only to feel that nausea blossom into something of dread. The word seemed to shrink. His thoughts got louder, his heartbeat screaming in his ears. His breath came out in strained pants. Obi-Wan stopped a few steps higher up, and Qui-Gon just behind him. 

“This is no Jedi temple,” Qui-Gon wavered on his feet, placing a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder for balance. So they all sensed it, but Anakin wasn’t sure if they felt it to the same degree that he did.

“We must tread carefully. Perhaps you should go back to Rex and Cody, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan suggested. She shook her head. 

“I can handle this. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you all and I wasn’t here to help.”

And so they continued. The wind howled, bits of stone crumbled down from the temple with every heavy step. Anakin only felt worse and worse the closer to the entrance they got. Soon enough, the four Jedi stood facing down a void of darkness. The entrance was an archway leading into a long hallway, the walls of which were covered in… something. Anakin couldn’t make out what. 

“You three should wait closer to the temple. It’s a long trek to the top,” Obi-Wan said into his comm, before stepping through the threshold. It was freezing inside, in strict contrast to the humidity of the outside. There was a wall of cold air, almost like a barrier. And as Anakin followed Obi-Wan in, he gasped. 

The darkness was overwhelming. It clouded everything. The others felt it too, he saw their bodies tense up. 

“What is going on here?” Obi-Wan murmured.

“Could this be a sith temple?” Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan shook his head furiously. 

“I looked for that, too. There are absolutely no records of a sith presence on Kaiscen. Only this Jedi temple.”

“But there’s so much darkness,” Ahsoka protested.

“The archives may be incomplete,” said Qui-Gon.

“We should call the council,” Anakin heard his voice come out strained. Hoarse. Exhausted. There was a pause of silence. 

“You can, if you want. I’m going to figure out what’s going on. According to Rex, the Separatist base had a strange machine. Maybe they were measuring something in the area. That would explain why Grievous is here, if they were monitoring… this. I want explanations. I believe this is where we’ll find them.” Obi-Wan approached the wall, a determined fire in his eyes. The man clearly knew something Anakin didn’t. He had had enough of this. Whatever secrets Obi-Wan was keeping, he could deal with them on his own.

“I’m leaving. Come, Ahsoka.” Anakin stepped back, putting a protective arm around Ahsoka.

“Anakin, you don’t understand. This feeling, I’ve—” The darkness screamed, making his ears ring. Before Anakin slammed his eyes shut, he saw the others fall to their knees and bring their hands to their ears. The temple shook. He forced his eyes open, only to see the other three in a similar state. Just as Anakin felt as though he could breathe, he felt the ground give way beneath him. His stomach entered his throat as gravity pulled him down. The last thing he saw before he was consumed by darkness was the arch of the entryway caving in. 

- - | - -

Dooku gasped as the temple shook beneath him. He was headed up the side of the temple, just low enough so the Jedi at the entrance couldn’t see him. He heard a cry, and raced to the top of the steps. His breathing was heavy. He drew his lightsaber, ready to strike down whatever was there. But all he saw, instead of the gaping mouth of the temple, he saw rubble. 

“No!” He gasped. He had just gotten Qui-Gon back and would not lose him again. Sinking to his knees, he began digging through the rubble. As soon as he stepped foot on this temple, he knew there was something wrong. There was an air of darkness, a strange feeling of dread, that he rarely felt. He was looking for a sign, something to show him that Qui-Gon was still alive. That he hadn’t died like this, crushed by rock and rubble.

He stopped, catching his breath and organizing his thoughts. Who was he kidding, Qui-Gon wouldn’t be killed like this. But how to get inside? He sat back and cross his legs. 

I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.

A back entrance. Maybe, just maybe. If his suspicions weren’t valid before, this had confirmed them. This was no Jedi temple, yet it was not of the sith. 

And what did this have to do with Qui-Gon?

- - | - -

Cody tapped his foot. “Time?”

“Three minutes left,” Funny said wearily, resting his head against a tree. Rex leant against that same tree, watching the timer on Funny’s datapad.

“I think we should check on them now. It’s been long enough.”

“I believe General Kenobi said ‘get back up.’ Not ‘run in and help us yourselves.’”

“He should have commed us by now. What if something disrupted his signal? Or there was some creature? Or—”

“Calm down, vod. The di’kut Jetii can handle themselves. Let’s get back to—”

“Screw it. I’m going to find the Generals.” Cody broke free from the spell holding him still and headed down the path the Jedi had disappeared down twenty-seven minutes earlier. His fast pace quickly broke into a run.

“Cody! Don’t—kriff!” Rex started after him, closely followed by Funny. In less time than it had taken the Jedi, Cody stopped at the foot of the temple. He kneeled over, panting and catching his breath. He heard Rex and Funny stop behind him. “Cody, we don’t know what’s—” Cody planted a foot on the first step. Feeling nothing, he began the long trek up. “Cody, listen to me!”

Cody paused, made a decision, and continued to climb. “You can talk while we walk.”

“What’s gotten into you? You’re not… you’re not the Cody I remember.” Rex went two steps at a time, grabbed Cody’s arm, and turned the Commander to face him. Cody’s face was hard. 

“Something is wrong with my General and I want to figure out what. You can follow me, we can help them now, or you can run back to the camp. Are you with me, Captain, or are you against me?” Cody spat out the words, his voice louder than he expected. Rex looked taken aback.

“I… I’m with you, Commander, but I’m not sure I like this new you.”

“Are you coming, Funny?” Cody called down to the medic, who had stopped with one foot on the first step. His face was pale, his eyes searching. “Funny?” Cody said, a little louder. Funny’s eyes darted up to Cody and he smiled softly.

“Sorry, sir. I’m coming.” Funny took a moment before pushing himself on to the second step. “Just a bit nauseous. I think it was all that running. Thank god I don’t go out in the field. They should have called me—”

“That’s enough, Funny. Let’s just find the Generals.” Cody’s voice hitched in his throat at the thought of General Kenobi. Something was wrong with him. He had enough of playing these games with Funny, Rex, Ahsoka, all of them. He just wanted to help. And he would do whatever he had to. 

Cody was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice the look that was exchanged between Rex and Funny. And Rex was too concerned with Cody to notice how Funny struggled to breath, how a weight had settled on his shoulders, and how his eyes contained a darkness that was not there earlier.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka gasped for breath. She sat up, only to be pushed back down by a throbbing pain in her chest. Her mind felt sluggish, and a heaviness crushed her leg, sending shockwaves of pain up her spine every small move of her body. Her eyes stung, dirt and rubble clouding her vision. What the hell had happened? One minute Anakin was ushering her out of the temple, the next… Anakin. Was he okay? And Obi-Wan? Qui-Gon?

Ahsoka twisted her head, forcing her eyelids open. Anakin—she saw Anakin, unconscious, a few meters away. He was bleeding. Like she probably was. 

She needed to get help. Comm someone. She went to raise her arm, but found it too heavy. One last option:

“Help!” She croaked out, her voice nothing more than a whisper. 

And then she felt it. 

That darkness. 

“Ahsoka Tano.”

That voice… she’d never heard it before. The weight on her leg lifted, and she barely managed to drag herself away from the hovering stone before it crashed back down. She turned to her side, and saw it. The shadow.

“Who… are you?”

“I am a friend.” She couldn’t see his features, his face or body. Only the outline. Tall. His voice was soft, a whisper.

“I don’t know you,” She said, louder and with more conviction.

“Not yet.” He grinned, teeth flashing through the dark. He took a step forward, metal clanking on stone. “You’ve had enough of this war, haven’t you, child?” 

“Don’t come any closer!” She spat out the words, the darkness making it difficult to think.
“You want this war to end. You want to destroy the sith. I do, too.” He crouched to his knees, cocking his head to the side. “Your Master is falling. Don’t you want to be there for him?”

“The… Anakin?” Her eyes darted to her Master, whose eyelids were flickering. He was murmuring something… he was having some sort of… nightmare?

“I can help you, Ahsoka. I can help you end this war. Defeat the sith. Save your master.” Ahsoka felt her eyelids droop. Everything hurt, everything was heavy, and she could hardly suck in a full breath. “You hate this war for taking away your childhood. You were raised as a soldier, Ahsoka Tano. Not as a Jedi.” His voice morphed into something far more familiar that sent a burst of longing through her. “Join me, little ‘Soka. Let us put an end to this war.” 

This was wrong, some sort of… some sort of trick. There was so much darkness in the temple, in the force. Anakin was in pain. So was Obi-Wan, so was Qui-Gon. She felt them screaming for help like she had. She exhaled a shaky breath—she would not give in to… this. “Never.”

The words left her mouth, images flooded her mind. Noises, voices, faces, places. Mandalore, explosions, a raspy voice over comms. A face of red and black pleading and screaming and a ship crashing on an icy moon. She tried to fight these thoughts that she couldn’t begin to understand away, but no solace would come. The images did not ceased, but no sense of what any of it could mean came, either. Soon, after Anakins cries grew louder, calling out for Padmé, Obi-Wan, a boy named Luke, her own vision cleared. The darkness settled around her, flowing over her like water. Anakin quieted.

She let sleep take her. 

- - | - -

“Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, wake up!” He shook the shoulders of his padawan, sweat slick on his skin. So was ash, rubble, a smear of blood. The ground had caved in beneath them, the Master and Apprentice were separated from the other two. Qui-Gon’s head was heavy, his mind dizzy, vision blurred. Obi-Wan was breathing, he thought. Obi-Wan’s mouth was slightly agape, whispering a word every few minutes. His eyes darted around underneath his eyelids. Qui-Gon had seen this before, when Obi-Wan was still a padawan. He’d been prone to visions. Qui-Gon sat back, pulling his hands away and dragging them over his face. They were trapped beneath rubble, one dark doorway to their right. Further into the temple, he guessed. 

Qui-Gon Jinn heard a voice, making him jump. He turned. He was not ready for what he saw.

Xanatos. His fall. Bandomeer. The acid. The grief. 

He smelt the same things he did during that moment. Saw the same things. The air felt the same. The tears on his face felt the same. His body shuddered. 

He saw it all again.

Xanatos. His fall. Bandomeer. The acid. The grief. 

And again and again until, eventually, the image shifted. He saw Obi-Wan, a child. Urging him to stay on Melida / Daan. Qui-Gon’s choice, which he still stood by to this very day. Then Obi-Wan grew, the boy’s face lacking that youthful rebellious spirit of his childhood. Anakin, a small, funny little boy with that same rebellious spirit. Qui-Gon watched in suppressed horror as Anakin grew with his hate. Qui-Gon watched him cut down obstacle after obstacle, some unknowable, unreachable goal just on the other side. He watched Mustafar. He saw so much, but understood so little. He was not a wise man, he just relayed words spoken to him by Master Dooku.

He watched the consequences of that fateful day on Naboo unravel infront of him. The Empire. Luke. Leia. Palpatine. All of it. And after that moment passed in which Anakin was once again one with the force, Qui-Gon finally understood. 

He understood why he was here, and exactly what he had to do. He looked down at Obi-Wan, who must be having a similar vision, only what exactly he was seeing, Qui-Gon could never guess. Perhaps his time as a padawan, or training Anakin, or… or the source of that darkness that Qui-Gon had sensed on his old padawan. That heavy weight on his shoulders. Qui-Gon smiled softly. He pushed the hair out of his padawans face. He was grateful for the Force. More grateful than he’d ever been. 

Maybe once in his life, he would do something good.

- - | - -

Cody stopped at the top of the temple. His eyes darted over the rubble, not understanding what it meant. He heard Funny and Rex stop beside him, both panting. So was he. He stepped forward, the world spinning. “They’re okay.” He said, turning back to Rex and Funny. “They’re okay.”

Rex looked from Cody to the rubble. His eyes widened. “Cody, why don’t you sit down, brother?”

“They’re fine, Rex. They’re going to be fine,” Cody murmured, looking back at the temple. This was his fault. This must be. Everything was, nowadays. It was all his fault. He felt tears well up in his eyes. “They’re okay.”

Rex put a hand on his shoulder. “ They’re Jedi. Trust in… trust in the Force.” Cody nodded, brushing the tears from his eyes. Why was he crying? Of course they’re okay. Why did he feel so sad?

Because it’s your fault. 

“It’s this temple. Something’s wrong with it,” Funny said. “You guys’ve gotta feel it too. There’s a darkness.”

Cody nodded. It was suffocating. And if someone like them, who were completely disconnected from the force, felt it this much, he could only imagine what the Jedi were feeling.

Your fault.

“Cody, Funny, we’ve—” Rex stared off to the other side of the temple, something changing in his eyes. 

“Rex?” Funny nudged the clone, who didn’t move.
“Look,” Rex said, raising his arm lazily. Cody did, and felt his breath hitch. It was General Kenobi, standing beside the rubble. He smiled, stumbled towards him. He felt so heavy.

“General!” A shot rang out. General Kenobi dropped to the ground, robes singed. Cody cried out, catching the body. The General dissapeared. In his hands lay a blaster, instead. Cody looked back to Funny and Rex. Rex’s eyes were still locked on the place the General had stood, muttering something to himself. Funny’s hands were clasped over his ears, his eyes clenched shut.

“No, no, no, no. Stop, stop…” he pleaded, shaking his head. Cody took a deep breath, steadying his racing heart. Something really was wrong. He dropped the blaster and pushed himself to his feet.

End this war. Save your brothers. All it takes is one well-placed shot. 

Cody felt a heaviness in his hands. The blaster. Utapau. Good soldiers follow orders. He tossed it aside again, running to his brothers. They had to get out of here. He grabbed Rex by the arm, only to be thrown to the ground. Good soldiers…

“Drop your weapon, traitor!” Cody heard a crack as his head hit the rocky temple. When he opened his eyes, he stared down the barrel of Rex’s blaster.

“Rex, stop! It’s Cody!” 

You deserve this. It’s your fault. You could have stopped it. Cody blinked, saw a wrinkled, smiling face say three simple words. Execute Order… “Jedi scum!” Rex’s foot crashed into his jaw. Cody rolled, pulling himself to his feet. 

“The Jedi aren’t here, Rex. Focus on me! Look, It’s Cody,” He said, holding up his empty hands. Rex aimed his blasters, but there was pain in his eyes. “It’s Cody .”

“Ahsok… Cody.” He shut his eyes. His blasters were shaking with his hands. “Cody. It’s you.” The blasters clattered to the ground as Rex rubbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry. We need to get out of here, it’s messing with our heads.” Rex looked at Funny, who was still pleading to himself. Cody looked back at the temple. His eyes were blurry, his head dizzy. Rex looked unstable on his own feet.

“No,” He said with conviction. “We need to help them.”

“We need to go. Look at Funny! He’s not well,” Rex argued. Force, was he right. Funny had sunk to his knees. Cody just shook his head. 

“If they die, I’ll blame myself, Rex. I can’t leave them.” You can bring Funny back to camp, but I’m staying. Rex put his head in his hands. 

“ Kriff Cody!” He clenched his fists. “I’m not about to leave you here, either. Let’s help Funny, then find some… some back entrance, or something. Or start digging.”

Cody nodded. Rex helped move Funny to lean against a stone, and clasped his hands tightly. Rex spoke to the medic, tried to get him to realize what he was seeing, whatever it was, wasn’t real. Cody sighed, trying to forget the things he’d seen. The pain he’d caused, will cause. He felt all of it. All the grief. 

Good soldiers follow orders.

Chapter Text

When Anakin’s eyes snapped open, he first thought he was back in his bed on the Resolute. It was suffocatingly dark, the heat was a heavy blanket. Ahsoka’s whimpers and the faint drip - drip - drip of water soon snapped him out of it. 

“Ahsoka?” He sat up and wrapped her shaky figure in a tight hug. She was so small. Smaller than he remembered. She was more child than teenager. He was hit with a wave of horror: How had he let someone as young as her on a battlefield? “Ahsoka, shhhh, it’ll be okay.”

“I— I— I don’t know what’s going on.” 

“Hey, it’ll be okay. The temple must have caved in. I knew I was right: Obi-Wan just couldn’t help but—” Shit . “Wait, where’s Obi-Wan? And Qui-Gon?”

Ahsoka pulled away from him, revealing a tear and grime streaked face. The only source of light came from a thin crack in the roof above. “It's just us. And—” Her eyes settled just over his shoulders. He turned, saw nothing. 

“We’re alone, Ahsoka.” He turned back to her, Ahsoka’s eyes still wide and petrified. “Whatever you’re seeing, it’s the temple playing tricks on you. This may not be a sith temple, but the sith don’t own the dark side of the force.” A weight of dread settled over him, and he let the words slip out unconsciously: “this could be anything.”

“You…” Ahsoka wiped her nose. “You were having a vision. You were distressed, pleading, yelling.” 

“Really?” He lifted a hand to his head: it came away damp with blood. “I don’t remember a thing. Come on, snips. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon may not have been as lucky as us.”

He stood, stumbled, caught himself against the wall, and took a deep breath. Outstretching a hand to Ahsoka, he helped her up. She looked up at him, impossibly small, impossibly frail, impossibly young. 

He’d seen something. He knew he had. He could only remember flashes: a face, a flash of lightning. Padmé. Heat. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan and Chancellor Palpetine. He felt different, too. Strange and fluttery, like he wasn’t really here. Standing and looking at Ahsoka, all he felt was anger. Not at her, but at himself. At Obi-Wan and the Jedi Council and Yoda and himself. 

What the hell was he doing?

- - | - -

Funny was alive. That was all he really seemed to feel these days. Alive. It seemed strange to him, how he kept feeling so alive yet so empty. Empty wasn’t quite the right word, really. There was something there. Something in his heart. He had thoughts, and thoughts had emotions, but Funny had none. 

You shouldn’t have told Cody about Obi-Wan.

That was a thought, and that thought came with guilt. But Funny himself—no, who was he kidding, CT-1031—was empty. 

You are a failure.

You are a liability.

You are broken. 

These thoughts came with sadness and pain and heartache. And that sadness and pain and heartache made his head hurt, made him bite at his nails, made his eyes red and tired. But he never felt a thing inside, not really. Everytime he laughed, chuckled, smiled, grinned, told a joke or tried to be funny, he just felt emptier. The wound on his palm was yet another casualty. Yet another example of what can happen when you’re too numb. When he’s too numb. 

Funny had lost awareness of his body. He couldn’t tell if he was sitting, standing, laughing, crying. He couldn’t understand anything anymore. 

He wasn’t totally sure if he even wanted to. This war, all the pain. Some of the vod were, in a twisted sort of way, grateful for the war. Grateful for having been created. 

Easy for them to say. 

Funny always knew there was something wrong with him. But up until that fateful day on Kamino, he’d been happy enough to pretend it was nothing. A minor defect. He remembered those times and almost saw them again. The endless tests, rigorous examinations, harsh and disappointing stares and cruel punishments and all the banthashit the kaminoans but him and his vod through. He, unlike most other clones, wished the war never happened. Wished he never happened.

But who was he kidding?

It was interested in him. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know what it meant. But at least it was interested in him. 

For once, someone was interested in him. He was special, and not because of some deformed amygdala and unexplainable emotional issues. Someone—some thing —out there made him feel more than just empty. 

It was enough to almost make him feel happy.

- - | - -

Obi-Wan Kenobi had lived through two wars. First, Melida/Daan. Now, the Clone War. He was surprised he didn’t get the two confused more often. More and more these days he felt less like a Jedi and more like a child soldier. 

Battle raged around him. Little kids and clones running in tandem, charging adults and looming droids with red blades. He stood in the center of it, not quite sure what to do with himself. He was an adult, he was a child. He was a clone and a droid and a sith and a Jedi, too, somehow. 

He feared Anakin's fall to the darkside, but maybe Qui-Gon was right. Maybe he had to push away every ounce within him that wanted to talk to Anakin and plead with him and do his best to save the boy. 

Maybe he had to surrender to the force, like Qui-Gon had tried to teach him to do. Qui-Gon. It’s funny, in a way, how you can muddle intention with action. You can have good intentions, but do bad things. People will never judge you on your intentions: that’s not their responsibility. They can only judge you on your actions. And yet so much about the Jedi code was about intention over action. 

Qui-Gon always insisted he had good intentions. Obi-Wan was inclined to believe him. Qui-Gon thought, by doing everything he did to Obi-Wan, it would help his padawan grow strong and independent and wise. Not like Xanatos. 

But his actions? His actions had been anything but noble. And he would forever insist to be judged by his intentions, and not what he actually did to his padawan. This was Qui-Gon’s true fault. He, so lost in his intentions, forgot to imagine what his actions would look like. 

And that wasn’t Obi-Wan’s problem, was it?

The war around him grew louder and louder, but Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to cover his ears or fall to the ground or close his eyes. All he could do was watch in morbid curiosity as the images merged around him. He saw Cerasi. He saw Rex and the Togruta. He saw Anakin. Maul. A sandy-haired boy, the very same from his dreams. Visions, apparently, according to Funny. The medic always reminded Obi-Wan of the ones at the temple. The ones who he found himself at the mercy of all too frequently, whether for sleep deprivation or malnutrition or burns from Qui-Gon's sparring. 

He saw it again: frantically defending himself against Qui-Gon’s ‘simple’ sparring practice. Staying up late filling out mission reports as Qui-Gon slumbered in the other room, his minds on Xanatos and his past failings. Abandoning the order and everything he knew to fight on Melida / Daan. The war. The death. They had been mere children at the time. Feeling worthless. Feeling like a failure. Feeling the exact same hopeless dread then as he did now. And it was that same dread, only now it was weathered and beaten and morphed into quiet reflection. Into a serene little picture. Into a model Jedi. 

He blinked, and felt himself gasp for breath. He was so small, lying on his back in the Halls of Healing. It was quiet: all except for his heavy breathing and the steady rhythm of a heart monitor. He struggled to sit up before realizing he was not alone.

“Obi-Wan, dear, lie back down. You’re weak.” Vokara Che gently lowered him back down. He offered no resistance.

“What happened?” His mind was blank: he was a child again, for all he cared he was back in the temple decades ago. 

“You had a vision.”

A vision. Is that what all those years had been? The endless war and fighting and torment, merely a vision? He found that rather hard to believe, but shrugged away the doubt. So what if it was, so what if it wasn’t. 

“Where is Qui-Gon?” His voice sounded so meek, he didn’t completely realize it was he who spoke.

“In his chambers. I’ll fetch him.”

Qui-Gon would comfort him and make everything better. He’d pat his back and hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay. How long has it been since he got back from Melida / Daan? It was no matter. Qui-Gon would arrive, and they’d be happy again. Obi-Wan would be happy again. Finally. 

He couldn’t stop the grief from washing over him as he realized what could have been. What Qui-Gon had never given him the chance to experience. 

The little room morphed. He shook his head, willing it to stop. To remain as it was. He didn’t want to go back to war. He didn’t want to face Qui-Gon or Anakin or Satine or Maul or all his other failures. He just wanted to sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good sleep. He grasped at the little room, pulling its warmth around him like a blanket. Obi-Wan lost himself in the memory of sleep. That dark, warm friend that was always there at the end of the day. An escape from the failure. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. 

He opened them just as quickly, staring into the ceiling of a pitch-black, suffocating, damp little room. His head hurt, his heart was racing, and he realized he was gasping for breath. He sensed Qui-Gon was beside him, but not yet aware of his awakening. 

Obi-Wan was a stand-up Jedi. A prime example of peace and harmony and all that the Jedi Code stood for. But lying there in the dark beside Qui-Gon Jinn, a man who should very well be dead and forgotten about, Obi-Wan finally felt his fear turn into anger.

Chapter Text

The temple wasn’t big on the outside. Not really, not compared to other temples Dooku had seen. He still found it strange, how there was virtually no record of this temple. He’d never known of one whilst still in the order, and Sidious certainly hadn’t told him of one here. Upon stepping through the dark archway, he gasped. The dark side was strong here. Strange how he didn’t notice it before. 

The walls were covered in ancient runes and drawings, but now was neither the time nor the place to decipher them. There was a spike of energy here when Qui-Gon came back, and he was willing to bet the Jedi knew that too: why else would they be here? This temple had some sort of hand in his padawans return, and Dooku was intent to find out how. 

But he didn’t have the faintest idea of where to begin. What was he even doing? Sneaking around, forgetting about the war he was supposed to be leading. No doubt Sidious knew he was up to something by now. Dooku was surprised, really, that Sidious had yet to do anything. 

Dooku stalked up the thin corridor, of which smaller halls snaked off every few meters. There must be something here. There must be. The Force called them all here for a reason. 

Dooku stopped, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. 

“Dooku?”

He turned, cloak tangling in the sudden breeze. 

“Yaddle?” He found his hand resting on the hilt of his lightsaber. Yaddle stared back at him, the faint light of the doorway making her shadow long and deformed. 

“What are you doing, Dooku?” She stepped forward, pain in her voice. 

“I—” He stopped himself. “You are not real.”

“There is a difference between alive and real. I am not alive, but I certainly am real.” She stepped forward again, only for Dooku to step back. His face betrayed no emotion, nor did his voice. 

“I don’t need a lesson from the Force. I made my choice, Yaddle.”

“Are you scared?” She ignored him. 

“No.”

“Scared of what you’ve done? Allowed to happen? On your quest for peace throughout the galaxy, you’ve started a war. Are you scared of what you’ve become, Dooku?” She stepped forward again. This time, he stood his ground. She was dead. “You should be. I certainly am.”

He sighed. This was a distraction from why he was here. He turned to continue deeper into the fortress, but felt a hand on his shoulder. An icy chill ran up his spine, and he looked behind himself, coming face to face with a wrinkled, old, scowl.

“My lord.” He stumbled back. It was just the temple. 

“I’m proud of you, Tirannus. You’ve been a great asset.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Dooku, slowly, turned around and walked deeper into the temple. A cold sweat stuck to his skin, The little light behind him eventually disappeared, and so did the faux figure of lord Palpatine. 

It took a while for Dooku to realize his hands were shaking.

- - | - -

On the right side of the temple, Rex and Cody found an overgrown entry way. Funny had calmed down, but they were all still on edge. Each clone was quiet, trying to decipher what they saw. It felt like a dream to Cody. Those things he’d seen so vividly were fading quickly. Something about Obi-Wan, a shot… a pale face… 

He shook his head: he needed to focus on the here and now. Getting the Jedi out of this Force-forsaken place was top priority. They walked through the dark labyrinthine innards of the temple, their vambrace lights leading the way. 

“How’re we gonna find our way out of here?” Rex asked from behind Cody. 

“That doesn’t matter. We need to focus on finding the Generals.” Cody turned a corner, nearly tripping on an uneven rock. He caught himself against the wall, coming face to face with a strange carving he couldn't begin to decipher. “Then we’ll get back to camp and we’ll tell them what we saw.”

Quiet, except for the echo of their footsteps. The heat down there was heavy, dense, near-suffocating. This is what Cody imagined it to feel like on Mustafar, not a lush planet like Kaiscen.

“What…” Rex cleared his throat. “What did we see?”

Cody stopped and turned, accidentally shining his light into Rex’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… It’s all a bit foggy. And confusing. All I remember is… well, Kadavo, for one.” He shuddered as he said the words. “But… there was more. I think I was trying to hurt Ahsoka.”

"I saw something similar. Listen, Rex..." He didn't know how to ask it. This was obvious, in hindsight, and he was struck by his own stupidity. Why didn't he do this earlier? "What happened on Kadavo. You were with the General the whole time, right?"

Rex's expression hardened. "Now's really not the time to have this conversation."

"What? Why? It surely couldn't have been that ba--"

"It was worse." Rex sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know this is all to help General Kenobi. I know how much he means to you." Rex quieted Cody's protests with a pat on the shoulder. "Come on, Commander Cody, it's obvious you care about him. And there's nothing wrong with that. Look: I'll tell you everything about it once we're safe at camp again. After all you've tried to do for him... You deserve to know. Maybe then you'll really be able to help him, once you understand." Cody was silent, so Rex took it as acceptance and began to walk. He didn't get far before Cody piped up again.

"Everyone is treating me like some sort of outsider! I'm the Commander. My General won't tell me a thing, neither will you or Funny or Commander Tano. What the hell happened to everyone!? I haven't grown a second head, have I? I haven't lost my mind or anything? Because if not then I see no reason as to why I'm being left in the dark about everything." 

"I'll tell you when we're out of this hellhole. Then you can cozy up to your General as much as you want," Rex barked back. Cody was glad it was too dark for them to see the blush creeping up his neck. 

"It's not like..." Cody just sighed and followed Rex. “It will all be okay. We just need to find them.”

A long silence elapsed before Rex spoke: “We should have followed orders like good soldiers do and gotten back up."

“Last time I checked, I outrank you,” Cody snapped. "And what happened to wanting to help the Jedi?"

“Well this isn’t exactly official, is it? And what if this whole place collapses when we're in it. Then we'll really be screwed.” Rex hissed back. “I say we have a vote. Cody opts to stay, I say we go and get backup. What about you, Funny?”

They both turned around to face Funny, who had been lagging behind them. The CMO pulled his eyes away from the gibberish on the walls and met them with an empty stare. 

“We should stay,” He said, not stopping and walking straight past them. “They might need urgent care.” He reached out and tentatively touched the wall. A piece of stone crumbled underneath his fingertips. “I have a bad feeling about this. Best we get them out as quickly as possible, before any more of this place falls apart."

Cody nodded and let Funny take the lead. The CMO had lied before, and Cody got a sick feeling in his stomach that the man knew something he didn’t. Like everyone else. Rex and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and General Skywalker. But the look on Rex's face kept coming back to him, kept forcing its way to the front of his thoughts. That fear. The weeks following the Generals return when he was bed bound and nearly had a heart attack every time someone looked at him wrong. The look of terror in his General's eyes whenever someone tapped his shoulder. The conversations with Funny before Qui-Gon had arrived on the Negotiator. Had Kadavo really gone that wrong?

They walked for what could have been anywhere from five minutes to an hour. Time felt weird. Cody found his body getting heavier and heavier the deeper they walked. His throat tighter and tighter, lungs wheezing more and more. Each thought of his General made him feel weaker and weaker. Force, all he ever wanted was to help. And now they were here. Cody couldn't help but feel like some of this must've been his fault. Pretty soon, he had to stop for breath. To his relief, Rex and Funny had to do the same. He dropped to his knees. He wasn’t just going crazy, then. They all were. He chuckled at the thought, earning him a look from Rex as Funny continued forward.

“What’s got you laughing?”

“I don’t know. What if I just tripped and hit my head, and this is all some big dream. What if war's gotten to me and I've finally lost my mind. What if...” Cody sighed. “Who am I kidding, this is the Jedi’s realm. No place for clones like us here.” 

Rex knelt down, coming eye to eye with Cody. “Well, we’ve come this far. We must be near the center by now. They’ve got to be around here somewhere. Who cares if we don’t understand the crap on the walls and all that Jedi shit. We understand that they need our help, and that’s a good enough reason for us to be here. Think of your General.”

That was exactly the problem: He couldn't stop thinking about Kenobi. What if he was injured? Dead? Cody just nodded, managing a small smile in an attempt to force the thoughts from his mind. This was not how he envisioned tonight going. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep, especially after that day’s battle. The argument between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. He pushed himself up, something strange overcoming him. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan could be stuck together. He didn’t know anything about his General’s time as a Padawan, but he knew Qui-Gon must have made some pretty big mistakes. Who’s to say he wouldn’t make them again?

Cody would find his General and finally achieve what he set out to do a week ago: figure out what was going on and put a swift end to it. There was a war going on, and they’d already wasted enough time on the likes of Qui-Gon Jinn and his mysterious return. His General deserved a break, and Cody would give Obi-Wan that break even if he died trying.

He opened his mouth, about to thank Rex, when Funny called out something from up ahead. Both clones looked in his direction. He came running up, panting. 

“I— Phew, I—” He coughed, laughed a little. “I found Skywalker and Tano.” He looked up at them, bit down hard on his fist to suppress another bubble of inappropriate laughter. “They don’t look good.”

- - | - -

Anakin carried Ahsoka through the dark passageways. They were almost at the exit, he could feel it. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon must’ve found their way out by now, too. It must be morning already. Force, his men must be confused. First thing he’d do when he got back would be to scold Rex for not doing what they said and gotten back up. If those three clones had followed orders, he and Ahsoka would have been found already. Nope. Instead, he was stumbling through oven-like heat and darkness and grime trying not to topple over. He could feel Ahsoka’s small body growing heavier and heavier in his arms. He didn’t remember when she passed out, but he’d been carrying her for a while.

“Don’t worry, Ahsoka, we’re almost out.” He mumbled absent-mindedly. Force, this had been a rough month. First Zygerria with that slave-trading scum, then Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s groundless fighting. Obi-Wan was acting like a toddler. His master must feel threatened by Qui-Gon, fearing Anakin would replace him. Of course Obi-Wan felt that way: the man had always been envious of his status as the chosen one, envious of his power, and now he was jealous of the attention Qui-Gon was giving Anakin, too! It was almost laughable how—

Ahsoka started to cough. Really cough. The sort of hacking that made Anakin stop in his tracks and look down at her in horror. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, threatening something that made Anakin’s heart leap. He fell to his knees. No. 

“Ahsoka? Hey, hey, Ahsoka, wake up. Come on, Snips.” He set her down softly, but her body didn’t stop convulsing. Her eyes never opened. They didn’t open as he pleaded for her to be okay, as he begged the universe to do something. For someone to help. 

But nothing happened.

Nobody helped. 

Ahsoka stopped convulsing, stopped coughing. Her eyes did not open. Her heart wasn’t beating, her skin was growing cold. 

“Hey, hey, come on, Ahsoka. No. Ahsoka.” He shook her arm. Nothing happened. Anakin wanted to cry, scream, punch the wall, burn this whole temple to the ground, but couldn’t even bring himself to stand up. So he sat and stared at Ahsoka’s little body. 

This was the war’s fault. Dooku’s fault, Grievous's fault, the Republic’s fault, the council’s fault, Obi-Wan’s fault, his fault. Ahsoka was gone. He clenched his fists. He would make them all pay. 

“Oh, my dear boy, what’s happened?” The chancellor said from behind Anakin. He turned, his eyes finally filling with tears. The Chancellor: perhaps the only man who truly believed in him. He’d come when Obi-Wan hadn’t. He’d come when Qui-Gon and the clones and the rest of the republic hadn’t. 

He would help. 

“Chancellor, Ahsoka, she—”

“Hush now, dear boy,” He outstretched his arms, and Anakin ran forward, wrapping him in a hug. The Chancellor was so cold, a welcome slice of ice in the dense and sticky heat. Anakin cried in his shoulder, his sobs echoing through the eerily quiet hall. He couldn’t seem to cry hard enough. Ahsoka was dead. 

Nothing mattered anymore. 

Not winning this war, not bringing peace to the galaxy, nothing. His little Ahsoka was—

“Let me see her, the girl. Maybe I can…” Chancellor Palpatine let go of Anakin and carefully stepped towards asked. He knelt down, joints cracking, and placed a hand on her arm. He looked over at Anakin, who had barely pulled himself together. “Come now, Anakin. Let me tell you a story.”

“What?” 

“The story of Darth Plagueis the Wise. I think we’ll find it quite helpful for our predicament.”

Anakin was so tired, his body moved on its own volition. He slumped beside the Chancellor, looking at Ahsoka and seeing his mother. Seeing Padmé. He closed his eyes and fought back another wave of tears. 

The Chancellor told his story, and by the end of it, Anakin's tears were dry. 

Chapter Text

“They’re both stable now. General Skywalker has a pretty bad head injury, and Ahsoka’s leg is broken, but they’ll both be okay. If we can get them out of here, that is.” Funny finished bandaging Ahsoka’s leg. They were both out cold, with no signs of waking up. Cody leant against the wall—or what once was a wall—and sighed. 

“You’re going to hate me for this, but go back to camp, Rex. bring more medical personnel. We can’t carry these two back ourselves, and Force only knows what kind of condition Obi-Wan and Jinn could be in.

“You’re not serious? Can’t we send Funny?”

“Funny has to stay here and make sure nothing else happens to Skywalker and Tano. I’ll go ahead and keep looking for Obi-Wan and—”

“But—”

“He’s my General, Rex, and this is not up for debate. Go.”

Rex opened his mouth to argue, but bit his tongue. “Aye, sir. Good luck here, then.”

Rex turned and disappeared back the way they came. 

“What did you do that for?” Funny didn’t look up from the two Jedi, tending to some new wound. 

“I meant what I said, Funny. You stay here and make sure neither of them get any worse. I’ll go look for my General.” Cody watched the CMO like a hawk, before finally moving towards the passageway. The passageway moving further into the temple. “Don’t leave them. Don’t go anywhere else. Anything happens, you yell for me. Do you understand?”

“Why— Sorry, Cody, erm…” Cody turned. Funny was looking down, trying to ask him something.

“What is it?”

“Why are you speaking to me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your enemy.” Cody didn’t know how to respond to that. He shifted his weight. He didn’t trust Funny, of course he didn’t. The man was clearly hiding something. He was clearly…

“How much do you know about Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon?”

“I know everything you do.”

Cody barked out a laugh, “No, you don’t. You told me once—a few days ago, Force, it feels like years—that Obi-Wan talks to you. Not only does he talk to you, but he also has nightmares. He speaks to you, whether he knows it or not. Now, I don’t know what the kriff is going on, but someone dead came back to life. I have a bad feeling that you know way more than you’re letting on. That you know things that could help us put an end to all of this! This karking war has spread too far and killed too many people and has worn my patience down to a point. I have no time for your banthashit, no time for Obi-Wan’s secrets, and certainly no time to chase everyone around like you’re children! So, Funny , when I ask you how much you know about Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn I expect to be given a truthful Force-forsaken answer!”

Funny bit down on his bandaged fist. It took him a few tries before his voice was still enough for him to talk: “I—I— I can’t. I’m sorry, Commander Cody, but I… None of this was supposed to happen. It surprised him too!”

Cody’s breath hitched. “Surprised who?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry. He’ll—”

“You’re a traitor! You’re a spy!” Cody stabbed the air with his finger, “You’d better savor tonight because the minute we get back to camp you will be court marshalled and sent straight back to Kamino!”

“No,” Funny stood up, “No, that's not what... you said you wouldn’t— You said—”

“Enough!” Funny shut his mouth. “That’s enough, Funny. Stay here.”

Cody turned and left before Funny could say anything else. 

All he wanted was answers. Why was that so hard for people to understand?

- - | - -

Rex thought he heard something. Just the rubble, probably. Just the temple falling apart around him. 

He not-quite-ran down the passageway, willing for that thin speck of light to appear. Wishing to find a way out of the temple. It had become almost suffocating. There! There was the light, small but flickering, the—Shit.

Rex stopped. He pulled out his blasters. 

There was a figure, too tall to be a clone, silhouetted. Walking steadying towards him. 

“Stop! Stop right there!” The figure stopped. “Identify yourself!”

The figure lifted his hands up, “Count Dooku. I’ve not come on behalf of the separatists.” Rex breathed steadily. But who was he kidding? Count Dooku was a sith. And he was, what, a Clone Captain? Count Dooku said, “I want to help.”

“Help?” Rex scoffed, knowing he was in no place to rile the man up, “Help who? Yourself? Grievous?”

“Qui-Gon Jinn.” Dooku had started walking towards Rex again. “He was my padawan once. I was a Jedi, too.” 

“Don’t come any closer!”
“Please, Captain,” Dooku chuckled, “We’re going to have to cross paths. Unless we both turn back the ways we came. I am not going to hurt you. I swear on my life.”

“That’s grand coming from—” 

The temple shook, stone crumbling around them. Rex flung out his arms and braced himself against a wall. As soon as they had begun, the tremors stopped. Anakin and Ahsoka were defenseless, Dooku could kill them easily. And Cody. And Funny. 

“If I wanted to kill you, why would I be talking to you? I come with only good intentions,” Dooku was so close that Rex could see his face. He seemed… genuine. “I love Qui-Gon more than I hate the republic, Captain. I don’t want to see my boy injured or… I can help more than a clone medic.”

Rex supposed he was right. And there was something about this place… he just wanted to get the hell out of there. “Fine, but… but if you hurt anyone, I’ll kill you myself.”

They both knew the threat was empty. As they passed, Rex broke back into a run. 

Talking to separatists wouldn’t make Ahsoka and Skywalker any better.

Chapter Text

“Are you proud of yourself?” Obi-Wan sat against the wall, staring up into the darkness. Qui-Gon sat somewhere else. He didn’t know where. It was too dark to see. 

“Should I not be?” The voice came from the darkness with hesitance.

“No,” the anger in his voice surprised even Obi-Wan. “You shouldn’t. You should be ashamed.”

A long silence passed.

“I suppose I am, somewhat. I always thought you’d be… smarter, when it came to the Jedi Code. I knew you were always very susceptible to their dogma but… I thought it was a phase.”

Obi-Wan thumped his head against the cold stone. He took a very deep breath and pulled his heavy body from the cold stone floor. The world did a somersault, but Qui-Gon caught him. His old Master was warm. 

“Now, now. Sit. Your clones are probably looking for us already. We should wait until—”

“No! I am a General! Although that doesn’t mean much to you … We should be looking for them. We should…” It felt like his mouth was filled with sludge.

“You must have hit your head.” Obi-Wan felt a hand on his brow. “You're bleeding. Sit down, Obi-Wan.”

“No, don’t tell me what to do…”

“Stop being an idiot and sit—”

Obi-Wan struggled free from Qui-Gon and blinked away his pounding headache. He was a General. A Jedi General. He’d been through worse.

He traced his hand along the perimeter of the room. Two doorways, one to the right, one to the left. It was completely silent, except for the faint trickling of water. The periodical crumble of stone. Qui-Gon’s heavy breathing. His shuffle footsteps. He pulled out his lightsaber and ignited it, bathing the room in a cool blue glow. It reveal the whole right side to be covered in a pile of rubble. There were markings on the wall. The ground was slick with blood. Obi-Wan risked a glance at Qui-Gon. His robes were matted with blood, too. He walked with a limp. Obi-Wan took a deep breath. Survival came first, he’d find time to be petty later.

“Two doorways,” he said, “We’ve got a fifty-fifty chance.”

“What’s the Force telling you?” Qui-Gon came up beside him, standing tall despite the limp. 

The lightsaber hummed in the silence. The Force told him nothing.

“Left,” said Obi-Wan.

“Left it is.”

- - | - -

The light on his vambrace wouldn’t work no matter how much he fiddled with it. Cody even smacked it a couple of times, but nothing. He traced his fingers along the walls, feeling the ridges where words were carved, feeling his way deeper into the darkness. It was so intense. The darkness felt less like the absence of light and more like the presence of… something else. 

“General Kenobi?” He called, hearing nothing but his own echo. “Master Jinn?”

Thoughts swirled around his head like a hurricane. Cody’s heart pounded like thunder. A storm was raging under his skin. Cody tried not to think about Funny, but found himself unable to resist. 

What was he up to?

He knew the code to the restricted Jedi archives.

He lied about serving under General Plo Koon.

He knew about Obi-Wan’s nightmares, he knew about Kadavo, he knew about Qui-Gon and the visions and didn’t tell anyone. 

The temple had clearly affected him badly. And with the conversation they just had?

Commander Cody was certain that Funny was a spy. A traitor. That’s how he’d known the code: Dooku told him. But… why? 

That was the trouble. Why Funny? Why would anyone care about Obi-Wan Kenobi’s nightmares? 

Cody was too exhausted to make any sense of it. All he knew was that Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had to be somewhere. And as long as he kept walking, he’d find them eventually. 

“Obi-Wan!” He paused for a breath. “Qui-Gon Jinn!” 

He kept walking. Stopped. 

People were talking. 

“General Kenobi?” He called again. The voices stopped. 

“Cody?” So distant it was almost a whisper. “Commander Cody?” Louder. Obi-Wan. Cody broke into a run. Turned the corner. A faint blue light danced further down the corridor. Oh thank the Force.

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn were okay. Or, as okay as they could be. They walked back to Funny, Cody supporting Qui-Gon. 

Funny didn’t once look at Cody. He just tended to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon in silence. The mood was tense. Cody felt sick. 

This whole thing had been a very bad idea. A terrible idea. They never should have—

Obi-Wan hissed in pain as Funny dabbed a cloth against his head wound. But that wasn’t what had made Cody’s palms sweat.

He’d heard footsteps. 

“Shh,” He held up a hand. “You hear that?”

Qui-Gon stood up, wobbled, caught himself on the wall. It happened again. 

A faint pitter patter. 

“Maybe it’s Rex with the other medical staff?” said Funny, continuing to dab at Obi-Wan’s wound. 

“No. It hasn’t been nearly long enough. Could—”

“It’s Master Dooku,” Qui-Gon spoke with conviction. “I’m certain. I can feel it.”

“Dooku? What’s he doing here?” Cody shot back. 

“Let me talk to him.” Qui-Gon, with trembling hands, began to walk towards the passage the noise had come from. 

Funny finished with Obi-Wan, who was staring down at his hands. “You can hardly walk! I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you go off on your own. Cody,” He looked at his Commander and immediately brought his eyes down to the floor. “Erm, Commander Cody, could you stay here with Obi-Wan? I’ll make sure Qui-Gon doesn’t… strain himself.”

Cody couldn’t help but nod. He hated the idea of leaving the two on their own, but hated the prospect of leaving Obi-Wan with one of them even more. “Fine. But I want to know about every word you say to him.” He looked at Qui-Gon. “I outrank you both.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Of course.” 

With that, Funny got to his feet and helped Qui-Gon into the darkness. Cody sighed, felt his shoulders slump, the fatigue hit. He sat beside Obi-Wan.

“How are you feeling?”

Obi-Wan leant against the wall. “I just want this blasted war to end.” 

Cody just nodded. “Rex is getting back up. We’ll go back to camp. Rex and I can take care of things tomorrow: you and General Skywalker and Commander Tano can just… sleep for a while. I know that Funny won’t want you to be up and about.” Cody took a deep breath: He’d have to tell his General sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. “Listen. Speaking of Funny, I—”

“I like him.”

“What?”

“Funny,” said Obi-Wan. “He’s… I don’t know. I feel like… there’s something about him that’s so…”

Cody thought some very bad curse words. “He gives me the creeps.”

“Yes, well. I like him, nonetheless. Not that I don’t value your opinion, Cody.”

“Right. Of course, sir.” 

“He’s very easy to talk to.”

And I’m not? Cody almost said. He slammed his eyes shut. 

“I get what you mean, sir,” he lied. Why did the universe hate him?

- - | - -

Rex ran through the woods. It was pouring rain. The smoke from their campfires was visible in the sky, merging with the rainstorm. They’d been briefed on the weather on Kaiscen, but… this wasn’t just a storm. It was a hurricane. 

Mud crawled up his armor like hands trying to drag him into the dirt. Splattered across his armor like blood. He was soaking. Everything was black. Everything was silent.

No wildlife. That was something else they’d been briefed about. 

Dooku must have run into them by now. They’d be talking. Fighting, probably. He shouldn’t have let Dooku pass. He should have fought him! Even if he’d lose. He should have tried. 

But he was doing a good thing. He was getting help. He’d seen Anakin and Ahsoka: pale, bloody. Funny said they’d be okay, but… 

Rex kept running. The rain sounded like blaster fire. Deafening and horrifying. A harbinger of death.

He pushed off a tree, slipped, grabbed a branch, pulled himself up, ran, slipped, ran. The lights from the camp were visible through the trees. He broke into the clearing and stopped dead. The camp was in chaos, people running to and fro.  

“Where the hell are the Jedi?”

“Man your stations!”

“We’ve beat them before and we’ll do it again!”

“How’d they know—”

“Captain Rex!” Everyone stopped. They looked at him, expectancy in their eyes.

“What…” Rex panted, wiping the water from his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Grievous, sir!” said a trooper. “The separatists. They’ve just sent five transports down, not a kilometre away!”

Rex brought his eyes up to the sky. The looming shadow of the Malevolence was a black silhouette against the clouds, lit up every few moments by a shatter of lightning. A raging beast of rain and black, endless clouds. It was impossibly loud. A million lives screaming. 

A voice rang out, above the cry of the night.

“Get to your stations! They’re attacking!”

Chapter Text

Rex was many things, but a coward was not one of them. He’d fought countless battles. Seen hundreds—more like thousands at this point—of his brothers killed. Respect, especially that of a clone, was not to be taken lightly. So the responsibility he held over his men, over this war… he liked to think he knew how to handle it.

He knew how to handle everything else that came with this lifestyle, too. Breathing through the nightmares came naturally, keeping his mind focused was second nature. Of course his hands still shook when he faced down an army of droids, his chest still felt tight as he and his brothers sat in silence, shoulder-to-shoulder in a transport, heading off to a battle which most of them won't survive. He dealt with it unconsciously now. That’s what made him so good.

But standing there, cold to the bone, water blinding his eyes, mud dripping from his worn and dented armor… the pale, directionless faces of his brothers staring at him… no Jedi, and Grievous launching an attack… for the very first time in his admittedly short life, Rex had to remind himself to breathe.

“Ok.” Deep breath. They need you now. “You heard the trooper!” If they believe you have a plan, maybe one will come. “Battle stations. You, you, and you—With me, now.”

And just like that, the spell of stillness broke. Everyone burst into action. The three troopers he’d picked up stood at attention in front of his, hair plastered to their soaking faces. Two were clad in the yellow of the 212th, the third he recognized as one of his men.

“Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, along with Commanders Cody and Tano and the CMO are trapped and injured in the temple. We'll grab whatever medical gear we can carry and head out there.”

Then, if they’re good enough to fight, then they will.

But from what Rex saw?

It was more likely they’d have to flee Kaiscen. Get off this rock. 

“Sir?” One of the 212th troopers asked, slouching his shoulders. “Don’t you think you should stay here?”

Should Rex… right. He was the highest-ranking officer not trapped in that temple.

“Yes, trooper. Now you’re in charge of getting the Jedi back here safe and sound.” Rex stared them down. “That place will try and screw with your mind. Don’t let it. ” Rex checked the time, looked out over the dark horizon. Distant Gunfire graced the now-empty camp, distant explosions lit up the sky. It was beautiful, in a horrible kind of way. Breathe, Rex. You can do this. “Go.”

The guns felt heavy in his hands. Breathe.

- - | - -

“Master Dooku,” Qui-Gon said, and raised a hand, stopping Dooku in his tracks. “Have you come to help, or are you here on behalf of war?”

Dooku’s shoulders slumped. “My padawan, I thought you knew me better than that.”

Funny watched from behind Qui-Gon, ready to jump in should he be proven right and Qui-Gon be not adequately healed. 

Qui-Gon seemed to think about something, before coming to a decision and saying, “My padawans and Ahsoka Tano are injured. I’ll show you the way.” He held out an arm to Dooku, who took it and helped his old padawan stand.

“We need to get out of this temple first. It’s something very bad.”

“What? This is no Jedi temple. And it doesn’t look like a Sith one.”

“That’s because it’s not.” Dooku sighed. “We don’t know what it is.”

Qui-Gon pursed his lips. Neither the Separatists nor the Republic seemed to know what they’d stumbled upon. That must have been why the Separatists were monitoring the place: they were stumped. A temple of the Force, neither of the light side nor the dark side… “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Padawan?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Just tired.”

The three silently walked back to where Cody, Obi-Wan, and the others were resting. Qui-Gon took note of how, upon seeing Dooku, the Commander stepped in front of Obi-Wan.

- - | - -

“What the kriff?” Commander Cody said, “Why would you bring him here?”

“He wants to help.” Qui-Gon tried to keep his voice steady. The Commander had been getting on his nerves ever since they first met. “I trust my Master with my life. You would be wise to do the same, clone.”

Cody bristled at that. Then tightened his mouth into a firm line. “He’s killed hundreds of my brothers.”

“He can help.”

“Help? How? Some weird Jedi banthashit? Funny has got this handled until Rex and the backup arrive. Don’t you, Funny?”

Eyes turned to the medic, who laughed awkwardly. He seemed to shrink away , eyes glancing nervously between them. Notabley skipping over Count Dooku. “Well. Erm. If the... if the Jedi thinks that he can help, then I don’t see why—”

“And what do you have to say about this, Obi-Wan?” Cody turned, stared down at his General, who was slumped lazily against the wall. All Obi-Wan could do was blink at Cody: Funny must’ve given him more pain meds than Cody initially thought. The Commander turned back to Qui-Gon. “General Skywalker and Commander Tano are in more critical condition than Obi-Wan. Whatever you’re going to do, do it on them. General Kenobi,” Cody crossed his arms, “will be fine without your ‘ help’. ”

Dooku smiled an unhappy smile. “I’ll see what I can do.” He walked over to Anakin and Ahsoka’s unconscious figures and got to his knees, Qui-Gon trailing him. Cody sunk back to the ground and let his head thump against the cold stone behind him. 

Rex would arrive with backup. They’d get back to camp, safe and sound. He’d get down to the bottom of whatever Funny was up to, Qui-Gon would be dumped back at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to do whatever Jedi like him do, and Cody could go back to fighting alongside his General. 

Beside him, Kenobi shifted, then let out a groan. He really didn’t look well: Pale and glistening skin slick with sweat. He was shivering. Blood matted his hair. Strange, he’d been so lucid not five minutes earlier. Without thinking, Cody grabbed his General’s hand and squeezed. 

Things had been so simple a week ago.

Which is when a distant echo itched Cody’s ear. He stood up, let Obi-Wan’s weak hand drop from his grasp. 

“You hear that?” He asked nobody in particular. Funny appeared at his shoulder. 

“It’s about time Rex got here.”

As if on cue, three troopers appeared, silhouetted at the back of the dark hallway. Cody expected more to follow, but none came. And then that sinking feeling in Cody’s stomach on got worse when he realized Rex wasn’t among them.

“Troopers,” Cody called, “Where’s Captain Rex?”

The one in the lead stopped a foot away from Cody, panting. Cody recognized him: Cousin, named after another forgettable inside-joke. “He’s leading the battle. Ernie, Crys, get Skywalker and Tano.” Dooku stepped away from the unconscious Jedi.

“When they wake up, they’ll just be a little sore. No lasting damage,” Dooku said.

Cousin nodded, eyes lingering on Dooku. “I’m going to assume we're all on the same side here since nobody's blasting each other yet. Is General Kenobi stable?”

“What? Er, yes, mostly. Battle?” Cody felt a weight pull his lungs towards the cold stone floor. “There’s a battle? Against who? What’s going on out there?”

Cousin moved past him, got to his knees beside Obi-Wan, and began to help him to his feet. The Jedi’s eyes were foggy and distant. Cody had so many bad feelings about so many different things that he was beginning to lose track of them all. 

“Grievous. We don’t have much time. By the looks of things… without the Jedi, we could be gonners. Can I have some help?”

Cody obliged and came up on the other side of Obi-Wan. He was lighter than Cody expected. Add 'talk to Kenobi about his eating habits' to the list of things to do.

“I should be going now. My absence will likely have not gone unnoticed.” Dooku again.

“Yes. Please. Good riddance,” Cody barked out, then looked at the trooper again. Then at Obi-Wan. The words he said next were more fitting for a Shiny who'd just gotten off Kamino. “So we’ll get the Jedi back to base, and then everything will be fine.”

Cousin chuckled, a weary and uninspiring noise. “Considering the shape these Jedi are in, we’re going to be gonners with or without them.”

Chapter Text

Cody pushed against the wall, stumbling out of the temple. Rain deafened all else. It came down in torrents, slamming against Kaiscen as though the ocean was falling from the sky. The water seeped into the ground, causing everything to turn into dense mud. With every step, Cody felt his foot sink deeper into the muck, till it reached his ankles. He was instantly soaked, water seeping into his bones. Every breath he took, water came alongside air. Heavy dark clouds clouded above, the sky pitch dark. The only light came in distant explosions far ahead of them, and the dim flashlights on the end of their vambraces. Cody couldn’t see a thing unless he pointed his light at it. But the sounds? 

All there was was rain. 

He turned back into the temple corridor. Obi-Wan was walking on his own, but just barely, supported on one side by Cousin. Lagging behind them were Qui-Gon and the other two clones, Ernie and Crys, who were carrying Commander Tano and General Skywalker. Both were still unconscious. Funny was moving between each Jedi, ensuring they were all alright. Cody panted, supporting himself against the side of the temple. He swallowed another gulp of air, letting his eyes close for only a second. Despite the heavy rain, the air seemed lighter out here. He felt drained, out of energy, despite the anger he’d felt not ten minutes ago. He opened his eyes, pushed away from the temple, and shook his head. 

He felt different already. Better. Something was wrong with that place. But whatever it was could wait: from what Cousin had said, they needed to get back to camp. Pronto. He looked back to them, yelling over the gale. His words were barely audible.

“Everyone good to go!?”

He received a scatter of nods, Funny trudging to his side. Funny winced under the glare of Cody’s light, holding a hand over his eyes. They might as well have been underground, it was so dark. He, too, had to yell to be heard. “Everyone’s stable, but I don’t know if we can get all three of them back to the ship! We’ll follow you, but as soon as you get back to camp, send a shuttle!”

Cody stood still for a second, breathing in deep gulps of freezing air. Staring at Funny. Part of him still felt that anger he’d had not an hour ago, but it was different. Mellower. 

Cody felt like himself again. 

He nodded, looking back at them. “Just do the best you can, officer!”

He turned away from the temple, beginning the trudge through the mud to the front, through the roots and flooding water. In the distance, every now and again, came a flash of white. Distant specks of green and red blaster fire. He took a deep breath, and leaned against one of the twisting trees beside the path. Every step he took away from the temple, he felt weaker. But he also felt more and more like Cody. The anger left, but so did his energy. Soon, the battle to even lift his foot became nearly impossible. But he kept going, kept up his pace, pushing through it all with grit teeth. Because whenever he looked behind him, the others were further away. And in front of them, his men were fighting blind.

Cody couldn’t help but wonder about how many had already been lost.

- - | - -

Everything felt like it was moving in double time. Every explosion came too soon after the last. Every brother fell too soon. The rain came down too hard. More droids. More ships. The light was lit up by large floodlights which they’d installed upon first descending to Kaiscen, casting the night in a sterile, impersonal light. Glinting off each drop of rain. Making the blood glow.

This wasn’t a battle. It was a bloodbath. 

But why would the Separatists attack like this? 

Why, unless they’d been certain there would be no Jedi to fear?

To his left, an explosion shook the ground. He took it as his opportunity: the tent he was using as cover was hardly going to help him against the incoming wave of droids. Rex leapt into open space, sprinting through the shower of shots, sliding on the mud and diving behind a pile of crates, their fronts blackened by blaster fire, coming shoulder to shoulder with two 212th troopers he didn’t know the names of. One was peering over the edge, blaster resting against the corner for support. The other was ducking down, watching Rex. Rex gave him a nod, resting with his back against the crate, trying to get an idea of what the hell was going on. Everywhere he looked, he saw bodies. Whether those belonged to droids or clones, he couldn’t be sure. All of their brothers had found cover, whether that was behind the crates, shuttles, or treeline. They were doing their best to keep the droids at bay, but they were still advancing far too fast. They’d already been pushed to the very back of their camp. 

The mud covered everything. He turned his attention to the sky, where the lights of the Resolute and the Negotiator could be seen distantly behind the dark clouds. With every shatter of lightning, the silhouettes of the cruisers lit up, two black masses looming above them. The Separatists were jamming their comms–Rex had already tried to reach the few still on the cruisers. It was no use. All they had were the handful of shuttles that the Separatists hadn’t yet destroyed. 

And the Jedi still weren’t back.

He sighed, giving his head a firm shake. 

Focus, Rex. Get your head in the game. You’ve been here before. You’ve gotten out of worse scrapes. 

Rex held his blaster tight, trying to calm his shaking hands—Force knew where the other one had gone. Rex closed his eyes, the rain deafening all else. The explosions, the screams, the blasters all faded into a dull hum. His heart felt like it was going to burst through his armour. 

Breathe, Rex. 

In, out.

In, out.

When Rex opened his eyes, he wasn’t calm, but he was focused. He turned to the troopers beside him. 

“Troopers!” He yelled over the wind. One turned to him, then nudged the other, who was peering over the top of the crates. They both looked at him, helmets stained with blood and crusting mud. “Can you pilot a shuttle!?”

They both nodded.

“Get to the nearest ones and start them up! We’re retreating, understand!? Fit as many brothers in as you can, then get the hell out of here!”

The troopers nodded again, one giving Rex a quick solute. Rex thought he’d heard him say something, but whatever it was was lost to the wind. One turned to the other, and before any could move, a hot burst of light somewhere to their right knocked Rex onto his back. Shrapnel and debris exploded into the air– Rex buried his face into his arms, curling in on himself, mud and water and blood soaking through the cracks of his armor.

The sound of rain was gone, replaced by a harsh and constant ringing. His breathing was strangled and shallow, his chest burning with each inhale. He opened his eyes, darting them around the battlefield, lurching back into a sitting position. Then to the troopers beside him. 

The one nearest to the end of the crates, who’d soluted Rex, was slumped against the second. Rex watched, paralyzed, as the trooper shook his friend, yelling something silenced by the ringing. Rex watched the man dip his hands under the trooper's helmet, against his neck. 

Watched his hand come away slick with blood. 

Then, the man looked at Rex. His helmet obscured her face, but Rex didn’t need to see it to know the look in his brother's eyes. 

There was no question to answer, no reassurance to be given. Just a look to confirm it was real.

Rex shook away the cold weariness, somehow managing to push himself away from the crates, locking a hand onto the arm of his brother, who was stuck staring into the empty helmet. The ringing was quieting. Rex shook the trooper’s arm, the only sign that he was even being listened to was a small turn of the trooper’s helmet.

Rex yelled, raising his voice above the gunfire. Above the rain and explosions and shouts and cries.

“ Go! ”

Rex wondered if he’d even been heard, till the clone trooper looked at his friend again. Then grabbed the blaster from his limp hands and disappeared into the darkness. Rex sat, panting, trying to think. 

After one shuttle started up, their brothers would understand that this was a retreat. They would exacuate. Cody and the Jedi would be here any second. They had to be. Then they’d all get off this Force-forsaken planet.

He rested his body against the back of the crates, sinking into the mud. Thumping his head softly against the metal. He was so tired. It wouldn’t hurt, just to rest for a second. They’d be evacuating, and all he’d do is get in the way. His mind found itself returning to the darkness of the temple. 

He knew he’d seen… he’d seen something. But what exactly was it? He hadn’t forgotten, but it was as though… as though he’d never known it to begin with. Fog was rolling into his mind in waves, a splitting headache already beginning to cut through his head. He didn’t realize how long he’d been sitting there, breathing, until something shook his shoulder. 

He opened his eyes: a clone trooper, dark blue paint peaking through the dark mud.

“Sir? Captain?” 

Rex sat up, trying to put a name to the trooper, but couldn’t make out the design on his armor. Far away, over the troopers shoulders, Rex watched a shuttle lift off the ground. It dipped beneath its own weight, but managed to recover and rise into the darkness. 

“Yes, trooper?”

The trooper flinched as, somewhere, something exploded. 

“Most shuttles are off world. We’ve got two still loading, and one on standby for the Jedi.”

Rex felt his heart quicken, if that was even possible. “They’re not here yet?”

“No, sir.” the troop wiped some muck off of his visor. “But I just got word that someone saw Commander Cody coming up on the left of the separatists, along the treeline.”

Rex nodded, tracking another ship take off over the trooper’s shoulder. He pushed himself to a crouching, giving the trooper a pat on the shoulder and a nod. 

“Get yourself aboard a shuttle, trooper.”

“Yes, sir.” The trooper nodded, giving as much of a solute as he could manage, before turning and sprinting back to a shuttle. The shuttles were docked behind their camp, in the treeline. The camp had been reduced to a sea of rubble, crates, bodies, and mud. Rex was on the left of the camp, not too far from where Cody was said to be spotted. In the distance, shrouded by trees, Rex could make out the faint glow of the last shuttle: the shuttle waiting for the Jedi. 

He peered over the crate, towards the Separatists, and quickly ducked back down. 

An ocean of droids, all marching steadily forward. Pelting them with blaster fire. Every now and again, they’d return the fire, but for the most part, the Republic was focused on retreat. Rex swallowed, grip tightening around his blaster, digging his heels into the mud. 

Taking a deep breath.

Counting down from three. 

When he got to one, he pushed away from the crates, sprinting into wide open space.

- - | - -

Cody leant against a tree, catching his breath. He gave his head a firm shake. 

Get out of that temple, Cody, he told himself. Be a soldier. Focus. 

From everything he’d seen, they needed a soldier. Everywhere he looked, there were signs of death. Singed leaves, scarred trees, broken helmets and cracked armor, discarded blasters.

He shuddered in a deep breath. He was far in front of the others–they would still be behind the Separatist tanks and droids. What were they even doing, attacking them so brashly like this?

Cody took a few steps away from the tree, staring into the sky and watching a transport rise about the fight. Rain was visible in its lights, glittering. It would have been beautiful, if not for what was going on on the ground. 

But shuttles meant retreat. And there was no way either battalion would retreat without their commanding officers, let alone the Generals. 

So there must be… Cody saw it: far in front of him, shrouded behind trees, was a lone shuttle. He could make out the movement of a few troopers, but that was all. He wiped off his visor, mud clouding his vision. He was in the middle of taking a step when he heard it, off to his right, where the camp used to be.

“Cody!” 

It was the voice of a brother. Who, Cody could only guess at. He squinted, watching Rex practically dive into the forest, a hale of blasterfire missing him by centimetres. Cody watched him stumble closer, leaning against the trees.

“Rex. What the—”

Rex silenced him with a shake of the head. “They must have known the Jedi wouldn’t be here. That’s all I know.”

Cody frowned. He jerked his head in the direction he’d come from.

“The others are back there. We need a pick up. Please tell me you already ordered a retreat.”

“One step ahead of you, Commander. The shuttle’s just—”

Far above them, the shuttle Cody had watched lift off was shattered into a million tiny scraps of metal. For a brief second, the sky shone white. Then, the light died. 

Alongside countless brothers. 

Cody and Rex looked met each other's gazes at the same time. Neither said a thing, but both understood. 

They were standing in a graveyard.

“We’re not out of the woods yet.” Rex moved towards the shuttle, offering a hand to Cody. “We gotta go.”

Beneath the trees, the mud was less sticky, making the walk easier to manage. Unluckily for them, the Separatists had caught on to the fact that most of the clones still on the ground were using the trees as cover. They’d begun shooting through the trees, though most of their shots were far off. But some managed to blast off pieces of bark next to them, or singe the dirt they were about to walk on. 

After what seemed like too long, they made it to the shuttle. There were three injured troopers sitting inside, with four more standing upright. A man from the 501st, Fives, Cody thought, stepped out with one foot.

“Thank Force you’re here! We’ve been…” He trailed off, realizing it was only the two of them. “Where are the Generals?”

“Change of plan!” Rex yelled over the combined forced of rain, wind, and shuttle engine. “We’re picking them up. They’re somewhere between the Separatists and the temple.”

Fives looked at him. He’d taken off his helmet some time before—and his eyes could only be described as hollow. 

He looked how they all felt, Cody thought. He nodded, taking a step towards him.

“I know w—”

A shot. A flash of red light. 

Pain in his side. Cody stumbled against Rex, feeling his legs go weak. But as quickly as it happened, the adrenaline kicked in again. He straightened up, bringing his hand to his left side. It felt warm, a stark contrast to everything else. 

“I–” he tried again, Rex helping him into the shuttle, still holding one hand tight against his side. “I know where they are. Just-just get us behind the Separatists!”

As soon as they were in, the shuttle heaved itself off the ground. Cody leant against the side for support, focusing on taking slow, deep breaths. Ignoring the burning pain in his side, the weakness travelling up his knees. Rex took off his own helmet, coming up in front of Cody. 

“Hey, Commander, you okay?” 

“I’m…” Cody couldn’t look away from his side, eyes looked on the crimson beginning to stain his armor. A chunk of armor was missing entirely, the rugged white edges seared black. All there was in its place was red. Red and oozing. His vision was going fuzzy at the edges, tunneling in on the blood. It fell to the floor, running down his leg. “I’m fine.”

He looked up at Rex, trying to make his words sound confident. Yes, it hurt, but the adrenaline numbed it. He was fine, to a certain extent. Rex looked like he was going to protest, but was interrupted by a call from the cockpit: “I’m passing the Separatists: Where should I head?”

Rex came up to the Commander, lifted Cody’s helmet, and tossed it to the side. He guided Cody’s face away from his wound. “Look at me. Where are the others?”

Cody swallowed, adjusting himself against the wall, realizing just how much he was relying on it for support. He fought away the fog. “They’re…” his words felt like molasses. “About a klick away from the temple, north. Maybe a bit more West than where we took off from. Look for… go along the path heading towards the temple. There’s a tree along the way, split in two. Maybe there.”

Rex nodded, giving Cody a firm pat on the shoulder and disappearing towards the cockpit. Cody let his eyes close, swallowing a deep breath of air. 

He was fine. Everything was going to be fine. 

It took them five minutes to find them, not too far from the tree Cody had mentioned. Anakin was stirring, he’d wake up soon. Ahsoka was still unconscious–Funny kept insisting she’d be okay, despite this. Qui-Gon resigned himself to the side, watching the clones try to keep his fellow Jedi alive. Obi-Wan, upon boarding the shuttle, tried to insist upon being briefed about the mission. Luckily, Funny got to everyone first, and ordered them not to say a word. As he’d described it, General Kenobi was ‘two sneezes away from passing out.’ 

For once, Cody didn’t think it was hyperbole. 

The shuttle quickly descended into silence—except for Funny, who would mutter something to a clone now and again. Make note of this, make sure of this, other things Cody’s head was too clouded to make sense of. Cody just stood to the side, keeping his hand clasped tightly against his side, managing to keep the medic’s focus on the ones who really needed it: the Jedi. 

Another five minutes later, they passed Kaiscen’s barrier of clouds, into the hectic docking bay of the Resolute. Setting down into the landing bay was like entering a whole nother war zone. They’d lost two shuttles on the way up, leaving twelve or so split between the Resolute and the Negotiator. But that wasn’t what made everything so messy: no, it was the troopers. 

Few had gotten out without some sort of injury. Stretchers were being brought in and out of the doors at lightning speed, and some medics were performing checkups, wrapping bandages, handing out pills, in the bay itself. 

Despite it all, Cody couldn’t help notice how few people there were. He stepped out of the shuttle shakily, Rex supporting him, but the two of them were immediately bombarded by a small crowd of soldiers. 

The med bay is overflow… …more casualties than we do cots… …uttles was hit on the way up–it’s leaking gas. It’s a fire hazard, but we can’t… …lost valuable cargo…

What do we do with the bodies?

Cody took a breath, trying to come up with something to say. But no words came to him. He felt their eyes on him. Confused. Hopeful. Desperate. Scared. 

But no words would come. Their babble faded away, replaced by the loud thumping of his heart. The heat on his side started to burn, the fuzziness behind his eyes grew, spreading over the faces of his brothers. Making everything distant and far away. He closed his eyes, taking another shallow breath. 

“Okay, okay,” He heard himself say, causing things to get a little bit quieter. “We need… just…”

The medbay was overflowing: obviously bad. They needed to prioritize, right? Have the sickest get the beds, and give everyone else cots. But where would those cots go? Did they even have that many? And what about the shuttle—what if it caught fire? That would cause even more injuries, maybe even more deaths. But where to put it? Could they spare someone to try and repair it, or—

“Redeye!” Rex hissed to a soldier somewhere around them.

“Sir?”

“Commander Cody’s been hit. Find a medic. Now.”

“But—”

“ Now, trooper!”
Cody felt a hand come to his other side, and rested heavily against him instead, feeling Rex let go of him. Redeye, apparently, kept a firm grip on the Commander, leading him away from the shuttle. 

Cody was too focused on the pain that jolted up his side to focus on where exactly they were going. 

“...edic!? I need a me…!” 

They’d lost so many. Too many. When he’d looked out over the bay, standing in the shuttle, the biggest thing to catch his eye was just how many were missing. By all accounts, there were still tons of them, but in comparison to the amount from the beginning of this week? First, there’d been the battle against Grievous, and now this?

In the past week, the 212th alone had lost a quarter of their men. Maybe even a third. 

Cody scrunched his eyes shut tighter, finding his legs getting heavier. His feet like weights.

And of course, this wouldn’t do any good for General Kenobi. He cared so much about his men, more than any other Jedi Cody’d met. 

Learning how many had died when he was… was unable to do anything, it would break him.

A cry to their left brought Cody back to reality, just a little bit.

“I need hands over here, now! ” 

Cody heard Redeye swear under his breath, and did his best to keep his eyes open. Redeye walked him to the side, sitting him against a pile of crates.

“I’ll get a medic when I can, Commander but— shit, I need to help. Someone’s—damn it. Okay, just, stay here, Sir.” Redeye insisted, backing away. “Just wait here!”

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into a sea of identical faces smeared with dirt and blood and exhaustion and fear and sadness. 

Cody rested his head against the crates, sucking in another breath of air. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus on anything except the noise. 

Force, it was loud. 

Just as loud as the rain on Kaiscen. 

He tried to take another breath, but his lungs contracted against his control. And again. And all he could think about was the deafening, deafening noise. 

Cody forced his eyes open, darting around the massive hanger. Searching, and—and finding. He struggled to his feet, leaning against the crate for support. 

He prayed nobody was looking at him. 

Prayed nobody was there to see… Commander Cody, unable to even stand up straight . 

He tried to take a step forward, but his leg gave out beneath him, and he toppled back onto the ground. Both legs were fuzzy now, along with his head and hands. Everything was…

“Commander Co–”

“I’m fine.” Cody spat the words out through grit teeth, not knowing who it was he was talking to. The adrenaline had all but run out, leaving nothing but pain. It was a struggle not to succumb to his rapid breathing. 

Whoever it was he was talking to knelt beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder and maneuvering him to a sitting position. Cody hated it, feeling so weak that other people needed to move for him. He forced his eyes open again, battling with the heaviness of his eyelids. 

It was… Funny.

“You need to help the others. The… some people are critical.”

“Yeah. You .” Funny wasn’t laughing, somehow, despite everything going on around them. He just looked focused, albeit with a distant smile. “Most other people too injured to walk didn’t make it to the escape shuttles. I’m surprised how far you got. Thought you could fool me, huh? Pretend you’re fine before slinking off to some lonely corner to die in. Too bad, Commander.”

Through the fog of his brain, Cody saw the Funny he knew a week ago. Calm. Collected. Authoritative. A little more laid back than typical, maybe, but didn’t you want that from a CMO? He was far from the nervous wreck on Kaiscen. Though, there was still something in his eyes that hadn’t been there when they’d first landed. 

“Even if it doesn’t look that way, all the vod who did make it are being looked after. Except for you. We’ve got both the 212th and the 501st’s medical teams working full time. They can survive without me for ten minutes.”

Cody swallowed another gulp of air, too tired to try and say anything less than what he thought. “Something’s… different about you.”

Funny looked at Cody’s side, stained with blood. Cody watched him, becoming two Funnys, then one again, then two… “I don’t do well in combat. Even just off the ship. With the Separatists looming over us like that… I didn’t know it was a crime to have a bad day or two.” He chuckled, but it seemed genuine. “Just another way I’m defective.”

This was the Funny from a week ago. From before Qui-Gon. So why was he so disconcerted? Now that they were out of the temple, Cody had to admit that he’d been rash. Really rash. He had no evidence Funny was a traitor, just that he lied about a few things. It was that temple. There was something dark about it that they’d all felt. Cody kept staring at him, the pain in his side making him sweat. But at least he felt less fuzzy. More… present. The noise wasn’t as loud as it used to be, now just a dull hum in the background. But… Force, his side hurt. Force, it—

“Commander Cody, you have two options here.” Funny looked into Cody’s eyes, bringing Cody back from the fog he’d almost disappeared back into. He spoke plainly, but managed to keep himself professional, if not slightly reassuring. “You can either keep panicking, refuse my help, and bleed to death, or you can listen to me and let me do my job. What’s it gonna be?”

Cody looked at him for a few moments more, feeling himself come dangerously close to passing out.

“Fine.”

Funny couldn’t hide his relief, flipping open his med pack. “Thank Force. I really did not want to have to try and sedate you. I’d be the one in the med bay if I tried that. Lift up your shirt, let me see what I’m working with.”

Cody obliged, hiking up the left side of his shirt, up to his armpit. It took a surprising amount of work, his arms were so heavy. He looked away–there was blood. Too much blood

Funny practically went pale. “We need to get you to the med bay.”

Cody glared at him. The world felt light, as though all the blood from his head was gone. “No. Some people need…”

A smile spread over Funny’s face, uncontrollable. “No, Cody, this is… this is bad.”

Cody stared at him, not understanding. But his body did, lungs picking up pace again. “No… no med bay. They need it more”

“Cody–Its… kriff. Fine. Fine. Okay. Just breathe in counts of four. In for four, hold for four, and out for four. If you really don’t want to go to the med bay, I can do this here. But don’t blame me if you get an infection and die. Do you want a sedative? ‘Cause this will hurt. I need to stop the bleeding, which means lots of pressure. I’m going to have to stuff the gause into the wound, which is about as painful as it sounds.”

Cody shut his eyes again in a response to the world returning to a distant blur. “What… did you mean… back there?”

Funny looked up at him, a chuckle escaping him. “What?”

“In the temple, about things supposed to… not happen this way. That… he was surprised, too.” Cody grit his teeth, another stab of pain rolling through his body. Funny went to bring up the gause, but Cody shied away. Funny sighed, eyes turning angry. Smile fighting with itself.

“Listen, Cody, if you don’t cooperate, I’m going to have to sedate you and bring you to the med bay. You’re lucky I’m humouring this.”

“What. Did. You. Mean?”

“You’re not going to believe me. Not because it’s unbelievable, but because you won’t want to. Now, do you want a sedative, or do you want something to bite down on?”

Cody cleared his throat. It was dry, so dry it hurt. “No sedative. What if someone… I need to be aware.”

What if someone needed him? What if he was too drugged up to help? What then? What kind of Commander would he be?

“I stand by what I said before: I’ve never met a Commander as relentless on you. Bite down on this.” Funny sighed, grabbing a bundle of fabric from his med pack. Cody obliged, putting it between his teeth. Funny looked at him, giving a firm reminder before doing anything else. “Remember to breathe.”

Cody closed his eyes. He heard Funny take a deep breath, and then everything went black.

The first thing Cody felt was soreness. The tightness in his chest was still there, but he kept his focus on maintaining steady breathing, and found that it didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore. 

He felt a hand on the side of his face. 

“Lost you again for a second there.” it was Funny. At least, he thought it was. The effort it took to open his eyes was too much. “I don’t mean lost as in, you know, dead, but consciously. I told you it would hurt.”

Cody winced, once again perceiving the noise around them. Still in the hanger, but things sounds quieter. Calmer. Things slowly came back to him— Funny had haranguing Cody into agreeing to a sedative (the weakest one he could find.) It took an edge off the pain, but it was still there, burning. How stopping the bleeding hadn’t been the worst part: sterilization had. Funny needing to get out all the debris, then needing to kill the bacteria with alcohol. In the end, the knot of fabric was damp and chewed. Cody heaved out a breath, for a moment thinking he’d lose the weak control he had on his lungs again, but managed to recover. He tossed the fabric to the side, watching as Funny finished wrapping his side. The CMO glanced up at him.

“That’s it. Hope this was worth it. I could have done a better job in the med bay, you know. With proper equipment. I want to see you in my med bay twice a day to change the dressings, do you understand? This isn’t a request, it’s an order. And you need to take the pills I prescribe you. Once again, not a request, but an order. You’re lucky I even found you.” Funny sighed, beginning to pack up his med pack. “You probably would have bled out if I hadn’t.”

Cody, for a moment, forgot his suspicion, and let out an airy laugh that hurt his throat. “I thought for sure I’d wake up on a surgery table. I’m surprised you didn’t have me brought up there when I was out.”

Funny snorted. “Yeah. Trust me, Commander, I was tempted. Still am.”

Cody let his eyes open, wincing slightly under the harsh light. They focused, the fog now all but clear from his head. He looked at Funny and remembered to be suspicious, despite most of that anger from the temple having left a long time ago. “What won’t I believe, Funny?”

The CMO looked at him, standing up with his med pack.

“You know that the General tells me things. I was talking about him.”

Just like Funny had guessed, Cody had a hard time believing that. 

“It’s true,” Funny pushed, seeing the look on his face. “He’d have visions of what would happen on Kaiscen. What happened… wasn’t what we thought would. We didn’t find what we expected.”

“And what were you looking for?” Cody asked. The drugs were making his head fuzzy again, but a different kind of fuzzy. A warm fuzzy. 

Funny shrugged. “Answers.”

Cody stared at him, trying to figure out whether or not to believe the CMO. But even that was true, it didn’t change the fact that he’d lied about where he got the password for the archives. Cody’s stare turned into a glare. 

“So then why didn’t you say so? Why did you freak out?”

Funny chuckled, shrugging a shoulder and breaking eye contact with Cody. “I have no idea. It was the temple. It messed with all of us. None of us were acting logically.”

Cody looked down at his bandages, accepting Funny’s point. But Funny still saw the hesitance, so he crouched back down, coming face to face with Cody.

“How about this, Commander. You still clearly don’t trust me, which is understandable. I’m new, and I’ve… not done anything to earn your trust. You care about your General. But, well, General Kenobi trusts me. He talks to me. So how about you just… let me do my job until all of this Qui-Gon banthashit is done with. Then, when we get back to Coruscant, if you still think I’m a traitor, you can throw me in the brig. Send me back to Kamino. Have me decommissioned. Whatever. Just let me do my job, Cody, that’s all I’m asking of you.” He gave Cody a look that made Cody’s stomach turn. Desperation. “He’s my General too, Commander, and he needs us right now.”

Cody bit the inside of his mouth. He had a bad feeling about this. He closed his eyes and took one final deep breath, feeling his heart finally calm into a steady drum. He opened his eyes and gave Funny a nod.

“But if you do tell one more lie, do anything that makes me think you have malicious intentions…”

Funny nodded back. “Heard loud and clear.”

Cody sighed, dropping his head into his hands and wincing as the movement sent a spike of pain up his side. “How’re the Jedi?”

“They're all stable. General Kenobi is conscious, just not lucid. General Skywalker and Commander Tano are still unconscious, but their vital signs are steady. Skywalker's probably going to wake up any minute. We’re lucky: the Commander almost didn’t make it. Whatever Count Dooku did worked. Maybe we could learn a thing or two from… him.” Funny chuckled uncomfortably under the glare that Cody gave him. He cleared his throat and continued, “Jinn wasn’t hurt too badly, he’s... well, I have no idea where he is. And Rex is fine, he’s writing up a log of the… the ones we lost. He’s in his quarters.”

“Hm.” Cody frowned. “Thank you, Funny.”

Funny just nodded. “Just doing my job.” He made to go, then caught himself. “Don’t forget. Medbay, twice a day. And take those pills.” Funny pointed to Cody’s feet, where two small bottles lay. “Take one blue pill with each meal, and the white ones if the pain gets worse. And if you start feeling feverish, you need to come see me ASAP. Okay?”

Cody tried for a smile. “Yeah. Understood.”

“I could grab someone to help you–”

“No.” Cody pushed himself to his feet, stumbling but catching himself on the side of a crate. Funny tried to help him, but Cody pushed him away. “I’m fine. I mean… I can walk.”

Funny stayed with him for a moment before giving in. Accepting that Cody would accept no more help, he sighed, stared into his datapad, and disappeared back into the main hanger. Cody watched him go, not knowing what to think.

Yes, Funny was a liar, but he might have a good reason, and being a liar didn't necessarily make him a traitor. And to Cody, it did sound like Funny cared, to a certain extent, about the General. He certainly cared about doing his job well. He sighed, letting the fuzziness fill him with warmth. Force, he was tired.

He shook it off as well as he could, straightening his back. Taking a deep breath as the world threatened to spin again. There was no time to rest, not yet. 

No matter how tired he was.

Chapter Text

This was not good. Not only because it was part of no intelligent plan which Dooku could think of, but also because Grievous wasn’t brazen enough to launch an attack of this scale against the Republic without Lord Sidious’ approval. And to approve such an unstructured and rash attack, Sidious was either getting very bold, or he knew the Jedi were all in the Temple, leaving their men and supplies vulnerable. 

Which meant he was watching. Or, maybe he had a source. Regardless, if he had eyes on the Jedi, he surely had eyes on his apprentice.

The Count convinced himself that his vision of Sidious within the temple had been just that: a vision conjured by the ancient place. But there was also a very loud part of his mind telling him otherwise. There were but few matters regarding the force which Sidious couldn’t at least sense. A vision meant a connection to the force, which further meant noise that the Sith Lord was most inclined to listen to. 

Count Dooku led his small ship into the Malevolence’s docking bay, attempting to still his anxieties with cold rationelle.

He’d not done anything wrong, not really. He’d gone places without approval from his Master, but he was hardly a mindless Gungan. In fact, was it not wise for him to do so? This was Qui-Gon, after all. The son he’d left the order for.

Dooku indulged these musings as he started across the empty hangar—most ships were deployed onto the planet.

Dooku frowned.

There was a funny thought. 

Dooku had done no wrong thing, not yet, not to warrant his Master’s anger. He wasn’t even sure if Sidious was angry. 

What were these anxieties, and where were they born from?

Perhaps the strange darkness of that temple, or perhaps…

No, no. Dooku shook his head to dispel the idea. But still, as he expected, it returned.

Eventually, he came to a stop, realizing he was pacing the ship’s empty halls. 

Perhaps this wasn’t anxiety at all, he thought, turning to pace the window that opened into the expanse of space. No, not anxiety.

Doubt.

Yes, that was a strange idea, wasn’t it?

Dooku always knew that Qui-Gon wasn’t blind to the shortcomings of the Jedi Order, let alone the Council. They were like minded in that way–more so than Qui-Gon was– is– with his own padawan. After his old padawan died, Dooku had permitted himself to…

Dooky let his shoulders slump, releasing some of the day’s tension.

He’d allowed himself to re-write his memories of his padawan, and ignore what the Count knew to be the truth. The truth that, despite Qui-Gon’s misgivings, he still chose to remain a Jedi. 

Count Dooku could ignore what Qui-Gon would have thought about his departure from the order.

He could, once.

But whether he wanted to admit it or not, Qui-Gon being alive changed things.

Even if it shouldn’t have.

Even if he was already in too deep to change a single thing.

Count Dooku stared down at Kaiscen, across at the two Republic star destroyers. Transports had begun flooding up from the planet, no doubt signalling retreat. With retreat would return General Grievous, and avoiding both him and his master would become impossible. He closed his eyes, fighting back his sudden bout of confliction. 

No.  This was his path. He’s chosen it long ago, cemented it years ago when he ended Master Yaddle’s life. These were the doubts–the fears–of a mind weakened by fatigue and, no doubt, softened by age. 

The Count kept his chin raised as he turned from the window, continuing down the hall. 

Qui-Gon Jinn was a reminder of what could have been. Yes, representative of things that Dooku wished could be true. Things he longed for. Events he regretted. And yes, Jinn was the closest thing Dooku would ever have to a son, but… This was the world they lived in. Much can be changed by the mere presence of a single life–much undoubtedly already had–but there were limits to all.

Dooku determined, walking down the cold, quiet corridor, that his destination had been forged years ago, immovable by even the force itself. That was set, yes, but perhaps… Perhaps Qui-Gon’s presence had added a turn or two in his journey to it. Perhaps that would even be enough to change someone’s else's destination.

- - | - -

First, her breath hitched. The breath turned into a cough, which spiralled into a fit which brought her back to the world. Her lungs ached, that was the first thing she felt. And her throat felt like it was on fire. A hand on her chin, then cool water, some dribbling down her chin. The water is what brought her awareness back to her body. Her sore, tired body. She groaned, trying to sit up. The hand pushes her back down.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Commander. You have a fractured rib,” said a clone's voice. Ahsoka attempted to open her eyes, but winced as white light blinded her. “I wouldn't do that, either.” 

She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry. Seemingly reading her mind, the cold water returned to her cracked lips.

She greedily swallowed. It was just about the best water she’d ever had. 

“Where am I?” she tried again, now that her throat didn’t feel like it was sticking to itself. 

“You’re on the Resolute. We brought all the Jedi here. We thought it would be unwise to separate you four.”

“Where’s…”

“General Skywalker’s out and about, checking on the troops. He’ll be back soon–I’ll call for him. Jinn’s… I lost track of him a while ago. General Kenobi is–”

Ahsoka managed to force her eyes open, taking in the brightly lit medbay. Her bed was surrounded by a curtain, and a clone–the 212th’s CMO whose name was avoiding her fuzzy brain–was leaning over her.

“What happened?” she asked.

The medic gave her a weird look, almost like he was trying not to smile.

“The temple caved in with you in it. Then the Separatists attacked. The Negotiator’s tailing us–we’re putting some distance between us and Kaiscen. The General told me to comm him once you’d–”

He moved away, but she grabbed his wrist with more strength than she thought she still had. 

“How’s… how many men…”

The medic’s eyes softened, but he was definitely smiling now. Somewhere in her throbbing head was recognition–perhaps from a conversation with the other clones, or simply seeing him around often enough–but she was too tired to acknowledge it.

“A lot,” he finally said. “Too many. More than I’ve seen in a long time.”

He looked away, and Ahsoka let go of his arm. She let her eyes settle on the ceiling, and the medic disappeared beyond the white curtain. Everything was still foggy, and her head hurt even worse when she tried to remember… anything. She ignored the pain and tried anyway.

She recalled the walk to the temple vividly, but as soon as she laid foot on the temple steps, everything became different. Feverish. Then, at the top of the structure… had there been some kind of disagreement? She remembered darkness. Anger. Not her anger–anger that seemed to spill from the rock, to radiate from the air itself. 

Then the temple shook. The darkness she remembered became all-encompassing. 

Her eyes jolted open, scared of their own darkness. Her heart was pounding. There were other things too, just out of reach. Flashes of red and black. Yellow eyes. Smoke and glass. She shuddered, body falling into another wheezy fit of coughs.

The rest of what the CMO said came back to her– they’d lost too many men. But most importantly, Ahsoka hadn’t been there.

She was about to indulge this path of guilt when the curtains screeched, pulled open for just a moment to reveal a mucky, bloody, and overcrowded medbay. Anakin quickly closed the curtain.

“Thank Force you’re okay, Snips.” He tacked that last word on with a smile. It was ill fitting on his muddy, bruised face. 

“Is everyone OK?” She asked again, the CMO’s response already becoming a hazy memory. Anakin’s smile was short-lived.

“Rex, Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon are fine. Well, ‘Fine’.” He sat at the foot of the cot, rubbing his temple. His eyes stared at the curtain, but they were looking far beyond. “Couldn’t give you specifics about the men. I think I saw Vaughn and Jesse were okay. Maybe Coric, or maybe it was–”

“It’s okay, Skyguy.” She sensed they felt the same way about everything. “They’re strong. They’ll get through it. They’ll be ok.”

He smiled softly, as they both understood her words were empty.

“Yeah.” He patted her leg from atop the thin sheet, and she winced at the sudden pain. He recoiled. “Sorry.”

He looked at the curtain, mind going to that far away place again. 

He was different.

But maybe that was just whatever meds she was on talking.

Anakin let out a heavy sigh, dropping his head into his hands–one was bandaged, blood beginning to seep through the layers of white.

“He says you’re going to be fine. Obi-Wan’s CMO. You’re just going to be sore for a while. Same with me. Qui-Gon pretty much got out unscathed. Obi-Wan’s got a concussion, but knowing him… it’s nothing the Force can’t fix…” He trailed off, head shaking from side to side. “Rex offered to complete a report of… everything. To compile the names of the dead. I should have offered to help, but the men need to see at least one Commanding Officer out and about. To show them that we’re still standing. That these dirty Separatist bastards –” 

Ahsoka watched Anakin realize his voice was too loud, and watched him unclench his fists. Ahsoka tried for levity.

“You won’t be standing much longer if you don’t get some rest, Master.” 

The first emotion to cross his face surprised her. Annoyance, quickly replaced by weariness. 

“You’re probably right.” 

“Not for the first time,” she added with a smile that–to her relief–was returned. He seemed to wrestle with something before opening his mouth

“Ahsoka, I’m glad you’re…” As quickly as his words were born, they died. He gave the cot another pat, remembering to avoid her leg. “I’ll come by again sometime. You should… rest. Or sleep. Something.” He stood up.

“C’ya, Skyguy,” Ahsoka said, suddenly feeling overcome with exhaustion. Anakin saw it on her face.

“Bye, Snips.”

- - | - -

Rex hunched over the pile of datapads messily strewn over the desk, eyes going between the log, his commlink, and the incoming reports from the other Captains in both battalions. He rubbed his eyes, taking a second away from the names. The numbers, the voices, the words, the–

A knock at his door made the Captain jump, his heart scaling the walls. He swallowed, throat dry.

“Come in.”

The door to his tiny cabin swooshed open, revealing Commander Cody, somehow balancing three cups of caf on top of each other and looking like the walking dead. Rex turned away from his desk, concern warping his features. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Cody walked in, the door sliding shut.

“You have no idea how hard I had to fight to get these.” He ignored Rex’s concern and dropped the three cups of caf on the desk as Rex hurriedly tried to clear an open space. 

“Who’s the third for?” He asked. 

“Two are for you. Thought you might need them,” Cody replied, taking one of the cups for himself and slumping at the edge of Rex’s bed–practically a cot. “My cabin on the Negotiator looks just like this. Perks of rank. Can’t bring myself to relax in it, though.” He raised his cup into the air in a mock toast, then downed the scalding liquid. Rex couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over his face.

“You feeling OK, Commander?”

Cody just grimaced, staring down into his murky brown cup.

“You don’t know what Funny’s got me–and half the ship–on. At first I thought the pills weren’t working, so I took a couple more than he recommended. Let’s just say, they’ve started to kick in.” He looked up from the cup. “How’re you holding up?”

Rex sighed, turning back to the desk. How there could be so many different answers to one simple question baffled him. Once again, hardly the first time since getting off Kaiscen, Rex found his mind returning to the temple. All that oppressive darkness… like the air itself had been trying to strangle him. He’d been trying to unravel the tangled memories and make sense of it all, but… it was strange. He remembered seeing whatever it was he’d seen vividly, but now…

“What…” he realized his leg was bouncing, heel landing on the floor in a steady rhythm. “How much do you remember?” Cody was quiet–Rex took it as an opportunity to continue. “I remember seeing something about the Jedi. About Commander Tano. And some of the men, too. Jesse…” Fives, but something was making him stay away from that line of thinking. Something... important. That was going to happen soon. “But even that’s foggy. Like they’re fading, too. And I felt so…”

“Powerless,” Cody interjected. “Like you were watching yourself, as though you were someone else.”

“Exactly.” Rex turned back towards his brother, absentmindedly reaching for one of the cups he’d been given. “It’s… all I can think about.”

Cody sighed, looking at the floor. “Do you ever feel like the war’s…” He seemed to lose the words he was looking for. “Do you ever think about what you’re going to do after?”

Rex chuckled. “No. The only way to survive is to–”

“To think of yourself as a dead man walking. You don’t have to tell me.”

They shared a smile. Something occurred to Rex, and their previous line of discussion easily slipped from his mind, as though it was never there to begin with. 

“Is your General okay?” he asked, raising the caf to his lips. “Funny commed just before you came. Say’s Ahsoka’s woken u–” He choked on the hot, bitter liquid. “Kark, that’s–”

Cody laughed, some of the tension leaving his body. He looked so tired–Rex didn’t want to imagine how he looked.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?”

“What did they put in this?” Rex spat out the words, looking st the cup in horror.

“Must’ve been a war in the kitchen, too,” Cody added, letting the moment of light hearted ease wash over him before settling again, his smile fleeting. “General Kenobi’s alright. He’s resting in General Skywalker’s cabin–it’s just about the only quiet place on either ship.”

“He looked in pretty rough shape. Rougher than you, at least.”

Cody smiled. “At least he has the Force on his side. He’s get a concussion to deal with, but I’ve got a chunk missing from my side. I think, for once, I win.” Seeing the look on Rex’s face, Cody waved a dismissive hand. “Like I said, Funny’s got me on some heavy stuff. I’ll be fine. Hardly feel a thing.”

Rex reluctantly accepted the answer. “If Funny’s cleared you, who am I to argue? You know,” Rex turned back to his desk, switching his commlink silent, quieting the low hum of chatter that had been underlining their conversation. “I’m surprised you’re talking to me instead of standing guard outside his cabin.”

He could practically hear Cody’s frown.

“I don’t know what you mean.” But there was understanding in his voice, too. Obvious denial.

“Come on, Commander.” Rex found himself grinning, surprised at how casually he was speaking. Maybe he was more tired than he thought. “It’s no secret your care for the General goes beyond what’s typical of a Commander. Ask anyone in the 212th, or even the 501st. They’ll tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Rex could tell that Cody was trying to play it off. He’d known Cody for a long time. Most shinies saw him as a stoic force, sometimes colder than some of the Generals. But Rex had no trouble seeing right through him as he tried to play it off as genuine curiosity.

“That Commander Cody won’t let a Zillo beast come between him and his General.”

Rex watched a series of emotions pass over his brother's face. Embarrassment, surprise, denial, until finally he looked away.

He said the words slowly, as if realizing something for the first time. “And so what if I won’t?”

Finally.

The real meaning behind his words went unspoken–it didn’t need to be said.

“So nothing,” Rex shrugged. “You’ve got it as good as you’re going to get it.” Cody looked at him. “You’re the clone in this galaxy that he trusts the most. You’d be surprised at how many brothers I’ve heard raving about Generals Unduli and Secura. None of them could hope to be in the position you’re in.”

Cody frowed, standing suddenly. “Tell that to General Kenobi. I can’t remember a time when he had an honest conversation about anything –and it’s hardly because of a lack of trying. He even seems to trust you more than he trusts me!”

Rex opened his arms, only half meaning the words he said. “Go on then, Commander. Ask me anything, because I doubt there’s anything you can name that he’s told me and not you.”

Cody stared at him. “Then tell me about Kadavo.” Rex’s smile fell. He shifted in his seat, eyes falling to the floor–just for a moment. 

“Here I was, thinking that drugs are the one thing in the galaxy that can soften up Commander Cody.” Rex sighed, silence falling over the two of them. “Look, I really don’t know if…”

“I talked to Funny,” Cody pushed. “He told me about the visions, about the nightmares. How they came about due to mental duress. But nothing more–not what they were about. Not what they meant. He refuses to tell me a thing. And I’ve got a gut feeling it’s somehow connected to Qui-Gon Jinn.”

Rex watched his brother step back into the shoes of a Commander, ignoring Funny’s likely advice to take things slow. He bit his tongue, sinking deeper into the chair.

Rex had left Kadavo in the past. At least, he’d left it behind as he’d left all past failed missions behind. Placed under temporary stasis, one that he’d unfreeze once the war was won. Once he could afford to. You can’t survive in the present if your mind is stuck in the past, after all. Cody must have sensed his hesitation.

“Please, Rex,” Cody softened, sitting back down. “You know I wouldn’t ask you unless it was my only option. Something’s happening, and the Jedi–”

“Something happened to you at the temple. You were strange, Cody. Harsh.” Rex watches the Commander's eyebrows furrow.

“What?”

“It was ugly.”

“Something happened to all of us.”

“You were mean.”

“To Funny? He’s–” Cody rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. I know. But he’s–”

“A liar, sure. But still a brother.” Rex held up his hands. “Just… You’re a good Commander, and I know your men look up to you. Force, even mine do. And I know you’re suspicious of Funny, I am, too, but…”

Cody nodded, understanding.

“It was just the temple messing with me. I swear.”

Rex nodded back, letting his hands drop. “I assumed as much, Commander. Just wanted to hear you say it.” He let himself frown, mind returning to Cody’s request. Parts of him knew that these were matters for the Jedi to deal with–part of the reason why he’d kept his mouth shut for so long–but he also knew that Cody cared.

And, from what he was gleaming from the past few days, the Jedi has indeed not been dealing with anything.

“Kadavo was bad,” Rex said, Cody’s attention immediately snapping back to him. “Bad for both of us. The Zygerrians worked us past the point of exhaustion, and if we stopped, even for a second…” Rex felt his head shake, the words dredging up all the feelings he’d tried so hard to smother. “I saw a lot of pain, but it was different for General Kenobi. They tried harder to break him–Guess they’d never caught a Jedi before.” Rex grimaced, disgusted by his own words. “Whenever he tried to help–offer his food to others, a helping hand to someone who needed it… even just a kind word, they’d…” Rex could see the anger blooming in Cody’s eyes. “They wouldn’t hurt him, but whoever it was he was trying to help. He felt it, though. As the Jedi do. He wasn’t punished for his shortcomings. We were. No matter what he did, the Zygerrian’s would find something to be angry at. And they’d… just by existing, he was making things worse for the rest of us. After a while, he stopped trying.” Rex remembered how they’d made him call them Master . Such a sacred thing within the Jedi order, and to be forced to call someone like them Master… “I’ve never seen a Jedi look so human. So defeated.” 

Rex cleared his throat, mind returning to the room he was in. He reached for the caf, despite its bitterness. It was then he noticed his hands were shaking. Discovering the cause would be futile–there were too many possibilities.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat again, trying to dislodge a lump. “Everyone slept poorly. Most had nightmares. It was no surprise we did, too. Seemed to affect the General more, though. Got to the point where neither of us had the energy to try and sleep, if you can imagine that.” Rex looked down, unable to will himself to face his brother. “So we’d talk. I told him about growing up on Kamino. What it’s like being a clone, about Skywalker and Ahsoka. He’d tell me about growing up in the Order. Life before the war. Even his time as a padawan–anything to get our minds off of where we were.” Cody edged forward, listening intently. “It was bad, Cody, there’s no better way to put it. Qui-Gon Jinn… the General never told me details, but according to him, Jinn was in no place to take on a Padawan. I think… someone close to him was lost. And General Kenobi…”

Kriff, Rex hated this. So much for loyalty, he thought. So much for confidentiality. “Cody, I don’t know if–”

“ Gedet’ye, Rex. Please.” 

Rex felt his hands clench. 

Cody was right. 

If the Jedi weren’t going to sort things out soon, couldn’t get along, more people were going to die.

“Jinn wasn't neglectful, just distractible. He wasn’t cruel, just… didn’t consider certain things. Finding meals was the last thing on his mind during missions, and he’d often leave reports to be filled out by the General, even when he should have been resting. And he pushed during training. Harder than the Kaminoans pushed us… and that’s saying something. The General would talk about Jinn’s expectations–how, no matter what he did, it was as if Jinn wanted more. There’s… I could say more, but…”

Cody exhaled. “No, Rex, it’s alright. You don’t have to.”

Rex rubbed his temple, feeling the beginning of a headache. “What’re you going to do, Cody?”

Cody stood, ignoring the question, swaying for a moment as though he was about to fall, but quickly regained his composure. “Thank you. And I am sorry, for the record. For asking you.”

Rex sighed. “Just… remember who we are, Commander.”

His brother looked at him curiously, and Rex turned back to his desk, flipping the commlink back on. 

“We’re soldiers. I’ve seen too many brothers forget that, and try to change things that aren’t meant to be changed. Sometimes they get themselves hurt, but in the long run, all they do is hurt others. Don’t go down that path.”

Cody was still–Rex got the feeling the Commander was nodding.

“Thanks, Rex.”

Footsteps. The door whooshing open, then closed. No sound but electronic chatter. Rex sighed, leg still bouncing. He replayed the conversation, unease forming a knot in his gut. He remembered they spoke about Kaiscen. The temple. Their visions. But Rex found himself unable to remember a single detail.

- - | - -

Qui-Gon Jinn paced. Funny how he couldn’t recall the last time he’d done so. Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn abides by the Living Force–Feel, don’t think. Pacing, he felt, often went hand in hand with thinking. He much preferred stillness, the stability allowing his instincts to focus. But now, deep in the Resolute, Qui-Gon Jinn was flooded by thoughts. Indecision, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

In the temple, things had been so clear. Maybe they’d just seemed that way in comparison to everything else. The Force had gifted him with a vision of the future, but for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint, the images were fleeting.

Most of the images.

Some remained, swirling in unease and anguish. They kept rising to the surface of his mind, like oil in water. Images of Anakin and the Jedi temple, a few months short of two years from now. 

And an outcry of the Force. A singular moment of suffering long since unmatched. 

Qui-Gon continued to pace, hands clasped within the folds of his draping brown cloak. It had taken him a long time to find somewhere quiet, but had eventually discovered the archive room deep within the ship’s bowels to be unoccupied by cots or medics. Dust floated through the air, his every movement coming as a violent upset of the peace. 

There was more that wouldn’t leave his mind. Cleared images–perhaps things he was closer involved with? Images of two suns, forever pursuing the other. Oppressive heat of a nature he’d only felt once before–years ago.

Tatooine.

More than just the planet, however, he saw his old padawan, wrinkles lining his eyes. 

A myriad of emotions searmed upon the acknowledgment of these pictures, and Qui-Gon recognized none as his own.

…Nothing but my regrets to keep me company…

…Isolation is the answer…

…It didn’t just happen… …I caused it…

I should have stopped it!

I failed everyone. Do you have any idea how many people have paid for that?

Qui-Gon winced, a sudden jolt of pain stabbing the backs of his eyes. He steadied himself against the wall.

Do you know how many people are still paying right now?

Almost every friend I’ve had is dead…

…what does it mean to be a Jedi alone…

…you tried to tell me.

I had the dream again.

I’m worried.

I’m still ashamed.

It was my fault. I should have seen the signs. Every friend I’ve had is dead. 

I am responsi—

Qui-Gon took a deep breath, the visions becoming just that–a vision of what was still yet to happen. But the feelings, the anguish, those remained. But what the Force wanted him to do with this knowledge, he still couldn’t figure out. Surely not to stop it from coming to pass–Qui-Gon, somehow, felt that this was the direction the galaxy needed to head in. For, at the end of it all, balance to return. 

He just knew.

But perhaps, if he was not meant to change the destination, he was meant to change the journey to it. 

Qui-Gon cast his gaze across the room, taking in the quiet around him. For everywhere else, he sensed many things–quiet not being one of them. Even now, over an hour after their retreat from Kaiscen, he still felt the occasional flame of life flicker out. 

In those moments only, was there quiet.

But it was not a peaceful kind of silence.

Elsewhere on the ship, he could feel his fellow Jedi. The young Ahsoka, who Qui-Gon found he was intrigued by the spirit of, radiated exhaustion. Within, were threads of worry. Guilt. From both his padawans, he heard hardly a whisper. Wisps of darkness surrounded them both–no doubt residue from the temple. But this darkness even still surrounded Qui-Gon, who wasn’t afraid to admit.

Qui-Gon began to stroke his beard, once again reviewing his visions. He was certain of three things:

The first was that Anakin Skywalker’s fate would take him to a dark place. 

The second was that his Padawan, Obi-Wan, too, had many lonely, cold nights in his future. 

The third was the reason the Force had brought him back from the dead. Qui-Gon Jinn was the Force’s answer to the meditations of a lone man in an empty desert.

Chapter Text

Jundland Wastes, Tatooine.

18 BBY

“Anakin!” 

He sat up, chest heaving, sweat dampening the thin sheet tangled around his feet. He gulped down ragged breaths of dry air, eyes open but still seeing darkness. Each breath came easier than the last, as he steadied himself, fingers digging into fur that covered the slab of stone he considered a bed. He moved, feeling the ache in his chest, and set his feet onto the sandstone floor. 

He took a full, deep breath, then exhaled. 

…Fire. Heat. Red and blue, clashing. Hissing. Biting…

He had to fight for the next breath as the images that kept floating to the surface of his mind momentarily caused him to lose control of his frantic heart again.

…Anger. Rage… Clones dropping, crying over their fallen brothers. Smoke. Explosions. The electronic whir of a droideka. Grievous’s wheezy laugh. The humm of a hologram crackling to life. The hiss of red lightsabers.

He took another full breath. Slowly, they dispelled into the Force, creating the ripples of something small being dropped into an ocean. 

An endless scream. Thousands of lives returning to the Force in an instant. Infinitely more crying out. 

Hatred.

That’s just what this moment was: a grain of sand in the endless waters of Kamino, or a drop of water in the endless expanse of these sandy Tatooine deserts. It had been just over one standard year since he’d arrived on Tatooine and delivered the boy—Luke—to the Larses Farm. More than a year, and you’d think the nightmares would have stopped. 

“Have patience, Young Padawan,” he could almost hear his Master's words, clear as the dark sky above. “And trust in the Force’s plan for you.” 

He dug his heels into the floor, grounding himself. One final deep breath later, and Obi-Wan felt confident, once again, that his heart would not run away from him. He stood up, feeling too restless to go back to sleep. In the darkness, he made his way through his empty little hut, and to the door–protected by nothing but a sheet. He still had to get around to making this place, well, a home. As strange as that still seemed to him. 

He stepped into the night, casting his eyes over the endless waves of tan, turned deep blue in the midnight darkness. Tatooine reminded him, as it often did, of Kamino. Only, instead of endless storms causing the world to be ravaged by waves as tall as the Jedi temple on Coruscant, Tatooine was forever beneath the gaze of its twin suns. Just like all deserts, the nights here were cold. But it beat the heat, Obi-Wan thought thankfully. He walked up to the vaporator outside his house, which collected the moisture in the atmosphere, and traced his hand down the rough metal. He felt all the grains of sand trapped in its cracks and dents. 

All of it was an attempt to return to the present moment. In the past, it was easy to simply plant ones feet and focus. 

But now, after…

He exhaled, straightening his back. He was slouching. Hardly befitting of a…

A Jedi?

Is a Jedi still a Jedi if they’re alone? Unable to protect others? To uphold the code? To do anything apart from…

From hide?

He remembered what had happened when he first arrived on Tatooine. He remembered the ordeal with the Sand People, and the small shop over in the Oasis: Dannar’s Claim. The faces of the people he somehow managed to help.

It brought him some solace, even if just for a fleeting moment. He stepped away from the vaporator, moving to the back of his house, where his view of the sands extended even further. 

He sighed. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve meditated,” he said to nobody. To the Force. To Qui-Gon Jinn. There had been a period of time during the Clone War in which he’d have stubbornly refused to reach out to Qui-Gon Jinn in such a way, purely out of, as ashamed as he was to admit it, spite. But now, any grievance he used to—or still did—have with his old Master seemed to pale in comparison to everything else that had happened in the past year. “I apologize for that. Every time I try to focus on the Force in this way, I feel so much darkness. I have no idea what’s going on in the rest of the Galaxy, but I assume this darkness has something to do with the Empire. From the pain being caused because… because I… I wish there was something I could do from here. I wish there was—I wish I could help. I wish—” Obi-Wan was surprised when he realized his hands had tightened into fists. He exhaled out all the anger he could, watching his hands relax. He crossed his arms in an attempt to stop it from happening again, a movement reminiscent of one he’d make while listening to briefings during the Clone Wars or while sitting in on Council Meetings. He looked at the ground. “I know I said I wouldn’t do this aloud anymore, but I find it more difficult in my head. When I say it, it makes it real. Realer than…” Then everything else that fights for my focus, he didn’t say. He just cleared his throat. “You can likely sense that I’m troubled, Qui-Gon. I know I told you I’d be okay, after the catastrophe last year, with the Sand People and… and Annileen.”

But that dream he’d been having, of the scream, had only gotten worse. It had morphed into something else entirely. 

“I’m not sure what changed.” He kept his voice low, though he didn’t need to. “I can still feel my imprint in the Force from waking up just now. I’m fearful,” he said, “about the Sith. Emperor Palpatine. If he, somehow… can feel my presence here. If any Force user can. I’m being sloppy, I know I am, but I am trying to control this. I ground myself before sleeping, I try to…”

A memory made a smile break over his tired face.

“No, there is no try. I’m not controlling these nightmares. I’m letting them have such an effect on me, I know I am, but I can’t—”

Once again, he planted himself, calming down his racing thoughts. 

“Perhaps it’s the least I deserve, to merely dream of the horrors the rest of the galaxy is living through daily.” He frowned. “I wonder if I’m endangering the boy, the mission, just by being here. No, no,” he shook his head. He quickly backtracked, something he never used to do before. “It’s good that I’m here, I know it is. I also feel idle, and cowardly. These can both be true.”

Obi-Wan let his arms drop to his side, somewhere in the distance a Tusken Raider shrieked. He needn’t fear them—not after what happened—but still found himself standing alert at the noise. 

“I know Master Yoda told me not to expect any sort of response for quite a while, which could very well mean… years. but I can’t help but feel as though, maybe…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched up his eyes. “What do I feel? Not even I can say for sure. I suppose I feel as though, maybe, with everything else in the Galaxy that’s happening… maybe you have more important things to deal with.”

Like you always do, but he stopped himself from saying that much. He hadn’t lost all his dignity yet.

For some reason, he lulled into silence, expecting… Obi-Wan let out a breathy laugh, taking a step back towards the hut. 

“It would be wrong for me to ask for a sign you’re listening. Wrong, and entitled. I must have faith in the Force, and put my trust in it.” He felt his short-lived smile fall, making his way back into his dark little home. “Even so, Master Qui-Gon, I can’t help but think that a sign would be quite appreciated. If not for me, then for those who need it.”

Present Day

“General—” Funny trailed a few feet behind him, not expending much energy trying to catch up to Obi-Wan’s sluggish speed. “You really shouldn’t be up, let alone working. You hit your head hard. Really hard. If you didn’t have any of your weird Jedi magic on your side, you’d probably be in a coma. Maybe even–”

Obi-Wan stopped, resting his weight against the wall, glancing back at Funny. He knew the medic was only trying to help–and to do his job, for that matter–but Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to sit still. Not while all his men, injured or not, were on their feet. He’d not seen his old Padawan–or Master–since boarding the Resolute, but had managed to extract the reality of the situation from Funny, who’d been in and out of where Obi-Wan’d been resting–Anakin’s cabin–since arrival.

“Funny, I can assure you that I do not, remarkably, want to die. If I begin to feel worse, I’ll sit down.”

“And you’ll let me work my completely-real-not-weird medical magic?”

Obi-Wan found himself smiling. “Of course.”

Funny sighed, glancing down at his datapad—which he only seemed more glued to since the battle—then looked back at Obi-Wan.

“You swear it?”

“I swear it.”

Funny brandished a finger, taking a step the opposite way down the hall. “Ok. Fine. You’re lucky they need me to pry shrapnel from a brother’s thigh right now.” He smiled briefly at his inappropriate remark, his eyes offering a silent apology. Obi-Wan just nodded at his weird, yet amusing, CMO. 

“The other Jedi and I are to call the Council in the main briefing room,” Obi-Wan said to Funny. “Feel free to sit in on it, should you feel the need to.” 

Funny nodded, turned on his heel, and raced around the corner. Off to work his completely-real-not-weird medical magic. 

Obi-Wan’s smile dropped, only now, in the quiet and empty hallway, allowing the fatigue of his body to catch up with his mind. Funny was completely correct, he found himself thinking. He should not be up, let alone working. He had an awful headache, and now and again felt as though the floor was trying to avoid his feet. And the lights felt far too bright—was something wrong with the power levels in Anakin’s ship? He didn’t remember them being so blinding. He also blamed the concussion for his inability to remember anything following the collapse of the temple. He saw glimpses, dream-like glimpses, of Cody and Funny. Sand, for some reason. Darkness and sand. And… had Dooku been there? Or had that been a vision caused by the strange place? Clearer than the memories he had, though, were the feelings that washed to the shore of his mind alongside them: Anger. Fear. Worry. Doubt. Shame. 

And, above all else, guilt.

Obi-Wan did what he always did when he felt this way: He took a breath and grounded himself. He focused on the empty, quiet hall, and focused.

The Council needed to be briefed on what had happened: The temple, then the sudden Separatist attack. Obi-Wan found it too big a coincidence that the council would have sent them here without any knowledge of the mysterious temple. What seemed likelier was that one of them, most probably Yoda or Windu, had sensed a surge of Force in the area. The Separatists being there, alongside the scraps of metal from the base they’d destroyed after realizing the Jedi too were there, meant that they also sensed it in the Force. 

Obi-Wan pushed away from the wall, continuing down the hallway. He’d already sent an assortment of comms to the others, Cody and Qui-Gon included, to meet in the briefing room. 

The Separatists had won this battle, that much went without saying. As of now, the uninhabited world of Kaiscen was their territory, no longer a forgotten no-man's-land far away from Coruscant. 

But perhaps, if there was one such temple on Kaiscen, there were others on different planets. 

Obi-Wan ignored the thrum of pressure between his ears as he walked through the corridors, clones becoming more prevalent the closer to the briefing room he got. Everyone he saw saluted as he passed–the least Obi-Wan could do was smile and nod in return. Everyone looked, and he could sense that they also felt, absolutely exhausted. And devastated. 

Everyone had lost someone they cared about. But Obi-Wan knew this wasn’t the worst of it–the worst of it would be the medical bay, or the hangar–as Funny had told them that it had become a temporary extension of the med bay.

Not to mention there was an entire other ship, the Negotiator, holding similar sights. The two battalions hadn’t been too exact while retreating off Kaiscen, leaving what remained of the 501st and the 212th an unorganized mess. Obi-Wan was surprised at just how many of his own men he passed in the halls, side by side with their brothers in blue. 

Each soldier he recognized took a small weight off of his shoulders. 

Eventually, he stepped into the briefing room—again, one of the only rooms this close to the med bay that was empty. Inside, already surrounded the table, were Anakin, Qui-Gon, and Commander Cody. And, coming as a surprise to Obi-Wan, so were the holographic images of the Jedi Council, give or take two or three who were unavailable. 

Obi-Wan glanced at each of them, the first time since stepping into the temple down on the planet. Anakin and Qui-Gon stood confidently in front of the table. Anakin had deep bags under his eyes, bruises and scrapes. Anakin’s non-mechanical arm, Obi-Wan noticed, was bandaged up to the elbow. Qui-Gon, on the other hand, seemed completely fine. Cody, who somehow managed to look something close to normal, was oozing exhaustion and fogginess. 

The Jedi had the unfair advantage of being able to shield their emotions from the world: The clones did not. 

The door behind Obi-Wan whooshed shut. 

“Apologies,” Obi-Wan said to the room, coming up towards the table. “I didn’t know we’d already started.”

He glanced down at the time displayed on one of the little screens on the table: Somehow, he’d lost nearly ten minutes. Had he really been walking that slowly?

Funny was completely right.

Anakin was the one who responded, voice surprisingly cold: “Well, you’re here now, Obi-Wan. Commander Cody already briefed them about the Separatist attack, and I just finished telling them about the temple.” 

Obi-Wan glanced at his Commander, who gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. Obi-Wan returned the gesture, then turned back to the holograms as Mace Windu’s blue figure spoke. 

“Qui-Gon, considering you were the only one left uninjured, perhaps there is something you can tell us that Anakin may have missed.”

Obi-Wan shot a glance at his old padawan, knowing what to expect and finding it: The quickest flash of annoyance crossed his face, before being let go into the Force. Obi-Wan knew, better than any other Jedi, the inner workings of his padawan. And he knew that Mace Windu was at the top of a long list of things that made Anakin angry.

Qui-Gon’s sighed. “I’m afraid to say that, like them, I have a limited recollection of events. I believe that the things shown to us by the temple were meant to be fleeting: That perhaps the visions we saw were not meant to stay with us, but instead to conjure emotions that would.” Qui-Gon bowed his head, ever so slightly. “This room is swarming with darkness, in many different forms. If you were here, you would be able to feel it.”

“In your direction, sense a shadow, I do,” Yoda said solemnly. “A temple of the Sith, we appear to have stumbled upon.”

“I disagree,” Obi-Wan heard himself say, surprised at his own words. Rarely did he speak without first coming up with the rest of his sentence. He didn’t shrink beneath their gazes as all the eyes turned to him. Hurriedly, he tried to cobble together his thoughts. “Yes, this place had an immense presence of the dark side of the Force, but I’m hesitant to say that’s all there is to it. The dark side… its nature is inherently tempting. It lures you in, with promises of passion and freedom. It’s meant to appeal to us.” He looked between their faces, the words coming easier as he figured out what he meant to say. “All the brushes with the Sith I’ve had have brought with them glorification and romanticization of the dark side. This place, or rather, the things I felt–and likely saw–did not. They did not carry with them the intention to corrupt and tempt.” He settled on Yoda, who was looking at him curiously. Listening, Obi-Wan hoped. “I believe this temple was showing us truths, biased by neither the dark nor the light side of the Force.”

That last sentence, implying both the light side and the dark side were equally ‘biased’, caused a shift in the room. Some members of the Council glanced at one another. Not Yoda, who began to slowly nod.

“Temples of the Force itself, there have been. Since years where the Sith stood strong against the Jedi, left untouched, they have been.” He hummed, looking to Anakin, and then to Qui-Gon. “Understand Obi-Wan’s perspective, do you? Or see another possibility, perhaps?”

Anakin crossed his arms, taking a thoughtful breath. Qui-Gon did not hesitate, looking at his old padawan with confidence.

“I agree with Obi-Wan’s insight,” he said, his deep Coruscanti accent conjuring a feeling of nostalgia within Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon used to say things like that a lot, often calling him insightful or wise. It was some of the only praise he’d been given. Oftentimes, Obi-Wan thought it was sarcasm, delivered after he yet again sided with the Council instead of his own Master. Now, however, it seemed genuine. “A temple of neither darkness nor light seems most probable.”

Anakin looked at Qui-Gon and nodded. “I agree, too.”

Mace Windu turned his attention from Yoda back to those on the Resolute. 

“We must consider Kaiscen, and the temple, lost to the Republic. Neither you nor your battalions are in any condition to attempt to seize it, and by the time we send anyone to help, the Separatists likely will have bolstered their own defense.” Windu turned back to Qui-Gon. “You say that Count Dooku was there?”

Qui-Gon nodded.

Ah. So that hadn’t been a dream. 

“He had followed us into the temple. I’m unsure of why.”

“To ambush us,” Anakin interjected. “Or to spy on what we learnt about.”

Qui-Gon shook his head, looking upon Anakin with something Obi-Wan had seen directed at him all too often. 

Disappointment, disguised as simply correcting a false statement. 

“Master Dooku did not come with hostile intent. In fact, he even helped the medics heal you and Ahsoka. You owe much to him.”

Obi-Wan expected to feel annoyance or anger wash over Anakin, only to quickly dissipate. He was surprised at what happened instead. Anakin, meeting Qui-Gon’s gaze without malice, nodded. 

He’d never turned up the opportunity to butt heads with Obi-Wan before. 

“Careful, now,” Windu advised, eyebrow arching. “Count Dooku is not a Jedi anymore, Qui-Gon. In fact, he’s quite the opposite.”

Qui-Gon raised a placating hand. “Yes, yes, I know. But that doesn’t erase the fact that he, instead of taking the chance to end the lives of Anakin and Ahsoka while they were vulnerable, healed them.” Qui-Gon’s point sent a ripple through the council. Some furrowed their brows in confusion, some looked away. Others felt suspicion. Qui-Gon, sensing it, continued. “I am not making excuses for him, but rather saying that people, just like the Force, have both darkness and light. If a Jedi had a shadow of darkness… we–” Obi-Wan noticed the hesitance before the word, knowing what his Master wanted to say: you. “Would not hesitate to see it as the possibility of them falling to the darkside. Why the inverse cannot be applied to Dooku, I do not understand.”

Mace began to speak, but Yoda beat him to it. 

“A point, have you, Qui-Gon. But carefully, we must tread. Intended to plant doubt in our minds, his actions could have been.” Yoda gave Qui-Gon a small nod upon sensing his unease. “Correct, you may still be. The reason the Force brought you here, this line of thinking might unearth. The tides of war, changing, they may be–but even so, careful, we need to stay.”

Qui-Gon nodded, accepting the response. 

Obi-Wan darted his eyes away from Qui-Gon, just had his Master made to meet his gaze. 

“Am I correct in assuming,” Obi-Wan began, once again attracting the gazes of his fellow Jedi. “that we were not sent to Kaiscen solely because of the Separatist presence there?”

Again, Mace Windu replied. “Yes. We were unsure what we were looking for, and didn’t want to sway your judgement.”

A warning might have been nice, Obi-Wan found himself thinking. He pushed away the thought forcefully. A new voice joined the conversation: Plo Koon, who had, until now, been silently listening. 

“The day Master Jinn returned, I felt a surge of energy in the Force. I assumed, after learning of your return,” he looked at Qui-Gon, “that that was the reason.” He looked between Depa Billaba and Kit Fisto. “We three had a conversation. How you two described feeling you felt didn’t match what I did. If anything, what I felt is closer to how Master Kenobi described the temple on Kaiscen. A dark truth. Perhaps I was wrong to assume it was simply Qui-Gon’s sudden presence.”

Depa nodded, finishing his thought. “There may have been a similar temple on a nearby planet.”

They met gazes, and Plo nodded.

Mace crossed his arms, forehead wrinkling. “It’s possible. Where were you when you felt this?”

Plo Koon gave him the location, and a few of the nearby planets he could remember. As he was doing so, the door behind them swooshed open. Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder, meeting eyes with Funny, who scurried to the side to watch silently, attention split between his datapad and the meeting. Now and again, he glanced between them, taking in their various levels of injury. Obi-Wan’s focus returned to the meeting.

“I believe it may be best for you and your battalions to return to Coruscant. Master Koon, if you’re still nearby, maybe you and the 104th can investigate,” Mace Windu said, looking at Obi-Wan, who reminded his mind not to wander, then to Plo. 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Master Windu. My men and I are currently docked at Alderaan, for shore leave. We just returned yesterday: it will take even longer to prepare and head back.”

His mind did not take the reminder to heart. 

Anakin would probably want to return to Coruscant, where Padmé would most likely be attending yet another senate meeting. And it was true that their men needed a break, and they did need more supplies…

But something was worming its way through his mind. Something separate from logic made him say what he did. 

“No,” he stated. He cleared his throat, repeating his word without the cool edge that had unintentionally been there the first time. He ignored the way Mace and Yoda exchanged a glance: his tone hadn’t gone unnoticed. “No, I think we should go.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Cody look to him quickly. Obi-Wan just hoped that the men would have enough time during the journey to wherever it was Plo had mentioned to rest up.

“We’ve already been to one of these temples and know what to expect.” he gathered himself, clearing the fog in his mind that made it difficult to think. “I worry that none of you fully understand the effect this temple had on us. If someone who doesn’t know what to expect goes instead, things could end the same way. That might even be why the temple collapsed in the first place. Maybe it sensed our discord. But—”

“Understand your reasoning, I do,” Yoda interrupted. Obi-Wan couldn’t remember the last time the old Jedi had cut him off like that. 

“I believe we understand the effect that this place has had on you, too,” Mace Windu added. Obi-Wan felt his eyebrows furrow. The way he said it made it sound like an accusation. “But I’m still hesitant to send you all again. Don’t think we can’t sense how tense things are just because you’re far. One Jedi, maybe two, might be more effective in something like this.”

“With all due respect, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan pushed, not content with ‘no’. “I disagree. We have the experience with what’s going on–and the Sith as a whole, for that matter.” Obi-Wan added, off-handedly mentioning the fact that he had killed the first Sith in a millenium. He knew it was petty, and perhaps even arrogant, but the thumping in his head got more painful every word he said. And, for some reason, Obi-Wan found logic rather hard to listen to right then. 

For the umpteenth time since the meeting had started, the council looked at eachother. An especially bad jolt of pain behind his eyes nearly made him wince. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, bringing a hand to his temple and rubbing small circles. 

“Master Keno–”

“We’re closest to what’s going on,” Obi-Wan interrupted, opening his eyes to meet Windu’s gaze. Surprisingly, and rather out-of-character for someone like Mace, his eyes softened.

“Obi-Wan,” he said calmly, his voice making Obi-Wan’s shoulders’s slump. He knew when a denial was coming. “That is exactly why we cannot, in good faith, send any of you out there.”

Beside him, Anakin stirred. Obi-Wan thought he was going to further argue–either for or against Obi-Wan’s point–but no such thing came. Instead, he just stood, mind whirring. So did Qui-Gon, deep in thought. 

Looking around at them, Obi-Wan saw reality. They were tired, overworked, and in pain. Maybe… maybe a break might even be nice. 

He sighed. “Yes. I think you’re ri—”

“Controversial, what I say may be,” Yoda perked up for the first time in a while. “But I agree with Master Kenobi.”

The surprise shown on Windu’s face was a lot, for a Jedi of his stature. “Master Yoda?”

“For a reason, the Force brought Qui-Gon Jinn back, and not another. Send them down this road, the Force is telling us to. Perhaps, an exception must be made.”

Mace, growing in confusion: “You mean to say that we need to indulge their attachment?”

“Not indulge,” Yoda corrected. “Accept.”

“Attachments are forbidden,” Windu quoted the code.

“And yet, inherent, too, are they.” Yoda looked away from Windu, done with the exchange, and rotated his gaze between Anakin, Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan. “Only dangerous are attachments, when fear, they cause. I trust in your ability to overcome fear. A trial, this is. Running from this trial, the fearful thing to do, may be.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head, unsure if he was grateful or disappointed. Anakin and Qui-Gon did the same. Commander Cody gave a more soldierly nod, still standing at attention. Though he hadn’t said anything, Obi-Wan could tell he had opinions about their upcoming trip to… wherever it was they were going.

After a nod of approval from Yoda, Plo restated what he’d said before, this time directed at Anakin and Obi-Wan. 

“We were between Utapau and Elrood. I’ll send over the coordinates to both of your ships. Judging from where you are now, the trip won’t take more than two days. I shall check the archives for any records of a temple on nearby planets. If I find nothing, I will send a map with a list of possible planets.”

Obi-Wan smiled, for the first time that meeting. “Thank you, Plo.”

Mace clasped his hands behind his back. “Thank you, all, for coming. Now, I’d like a word alone with Masters Skywalker, Jinn, and Kenobi.”

Those unmentioned nodded, their images fizzling out till it was just them, and the flickering blue images of Windu and Yoda. Mace’s request didn’t apply to him .

“I would like to offer a word of caution.” Mace scanned his eyes over their faces, taking in every scrape, every bead of sweat and crusted splatter of mud. “The Force is responding to this time of war in a way it’s never done before. We must not be blind to the fact that all of this could be a Separatist trick.”

Qui-Gon cracked a smile. “Last time I checked, I was very real. And not a trick.”

Mace Windu exhaled, unamused. “The Force is a mystery to us all. We must not make assumptions that we then believe are fact. The reality of this situation is that we are in the dark. Darkness of both our understanding, and the places these questions are leading us to.” His eyes didn’t settle on any of them, moving steadily between Jedi. “Even from here, I can sense the darkness the temple has left on all of you. I hope it’s what you said, Obi-Wan. I hope this is not the dark side of the Force at work. I trust your judgments,” At that, he turned to look at both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, turning his back on Anakin for a moment. The others might not have noticed it, but Obi-Wan could sense that Anakin definitely had. Mace settled his gaze on Qui-Gon. “Although it seems like no more than a week since you were engaged with the Sith on Naboo, Qui-Gon, I once again remind you: For us, for the galaxy, it has been more than a decade. Count Dooku is no longer a Jedi, and whether any of us want to accept it or not, what’s expected of a Jedi has shifted.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, his calm presence seeping into the Force. Reassuring. Steady. “We are still keepers of the peace, Master Windu, are we not?”

“We are. But we have more responsibilities, too, now.”

“I thought peacekeeping is what defines the Jedi.”

Mace’s jaw clenched. Obi-Wan flickered his vision down to Yoda, who was watching the exchange with quiet resignation. An observer.

“What defines a Jedi hasn’t changed, Master Jinn. What defines peace has.”

A curt farewell later, and both Yoda and Windu were gone. The little meeting room was quiet. Anakin was brooding, undoubtedly about the slights Windu had given him. Cody’s eyebrows were furrowed, trying to make sense of something. And Qui-Gon…

“I’m proud of what you did, Obi-Wan,” came his voice. The General looked at him, eyes betraying none of what he felt. Obi-Wan, hearing the words, expected himself to feel… anything other than what flooded over him. 

Like Anakin, he was surprised to say, he felt annoyed. 

“Glad I could live up to your expectations, Master,” He said coldly, raising an eyebrow. 

Qui-Gon bristled. 

“Is something the matter?”

Is something the matter? The way he said it sounded so genuine. 

Was something the matter?

Obi-Wan recoiled into himself. He didn’t know how to answer that.

“I only mean to say,” Qui-Gon clarified, “That I admire how you stood up to the Council.”

Once again, Obi-Wan spoke before he could think. “I am on the Council, Qui-Gon.”

“But you stood up to the collective, did you not?”

“I wonder if the collective is a collective for a reason.”

Qui-Gon stepped closer, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that my men are injured. They’re in pain. We can’t really afford to be going out on another mission. They need rest.”

Qui-Gon got even more confused. “I don’t understand. They’re… they’re clones, Obi-Wan. Weren’t they made t—”

“We gave them life,” Obi-Wan bit back, surprised at the venom in his voice. “I won’t let their purpose be just to die.”

“Apologies,” Qui-Gon backed off, looking at Obi-Wan with something he couldn’t put a name to. “I’m still not sure I fully understand…” He glanced at Cody, then over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, where Funny was leaning against the back wall. “Any of this, really. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Obi-Wan looked away, then took a breath. Felt the floor beneath him. The walls. 

He let go of the anger, surprised he even felt it. Maybe he was in worse shape than he thought. 

“No,” he shook his head, looking back at Qui-Gon. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

Qui-Gon’s gaze softened. “I hardly blame you, Padawan. It’s been an eventful day for all of us.” He looked at Anakin, who was still lost in his own world, and cracked a smile. “We all need rest.”

Before Obi-Wan could reply, Cody turned to him. 

“With your permission, Sir, I’ll go alert the bridge of General Koon’s incoming transmission.”

“Yes, yes, Cody,” Obi-Wan dismissed him. “Go ahead.”

His dutiful Commander, professional as always, nodded, saluted, and left. Obi-Wan watched him go, noticing how his shoulders slumped. He vaguely remembered something, a memory dulled by whatever pain medication Funny had given to him. Had Cody been injured? The way he walked, wincing with every other step, furrowed Obi-Wan’s eyebrows with confusion. Maybe he should follow, and—

“Perhaps we should walk, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon approached, hands folded within his heavy brown cloak. “We’ve hardly gotten a chance to speak.”

Obi-Wan looked at him. He recalled their last interaction, before they’d ventured to the temple on Kaiscen. Their argument: Qui-Gon’s disapproval about Obi-Wan not telling him about the return of his visions. The visions which Obi-Wan only realized then, had momentarily stopped since the temple. What Qui-Gon had said to him.

Xanatos never could have made me half as proud as you do

Obi-Wan gulped, guilt seeping over him. 

Qui-Gon continued: “I want you to talk to me. Like we used to.”

Obi-Wan could feel himself losing the weak grip on his emotions. Typically, he was good at keeping things under control. Feeling, then letting go–all hidden behind a cool exterior. He closed his eyes and sighed. Then he straightened his back, once again pushing forward a facade befitting of a Jedi on the council.

“I’ve got a lot to do, Master,” he replied curtly, turning away from Qui-Gon. He felt a hand on his arm.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon lowered his voice. “I thought you’d gotten over this.”

“Over this?”

“Yes. I thought we’d be able to talk by now. It’s surely been long enough.”

Obi-Wan, against his own wishes, pulled his arm from Qui-Gon’s steely grip. “Respectfully, I need to go.”

Every step away from his Master made him feel worse. Qui-Gon was trying : wasn’t that enough? And what did it say about Obi-Wan, that no matter what Qui-Gon did, it would never be enough for him ? Was that not hypocritical? 

And yet he kept walking, past Anakin–still lost in thought–past Funny, out into the hall. As soon as he stepped out, he felt the corridor spin. Obi-Wan caught himself against a wall, swallowing a glob that had settled in the back of his throat. 

What was happening?

A voice came from the doorway he’d just exited through. Obi-Wan sighed, straightening up. 

“General?”

“I can assure you that I’m quite alright, Funny,” he said with one hurried breath. 

“Yeah,” Funny scoffed, “and I’m Jabba the Hutt.”

Funny glanced around the hall, and upon seeing nobody, grabbed Obi-Wan by the arm to help steady the Jedi. Obi-Wan offered a thankful nod, pushing away from the wall and standing unaided–except for Funny’s hand, of course. 

“You should go back to sleep,” Funny said. Obi-Wan stubbornly shook his head.

“No. There’s too much t—”

“Then my office. There, you can sit down. You can do whatever work you want on the datapads I provide you. That way, I can make sure you don’t run off and overwork yourself.”

Obi-Wan sighed. It was as good a deal as he was going to get.

“Very well,” he surrendered. They began the short walk back to the med bay. Looking around, Obi-Wan realized the halls were emptier than they used to be. “Is something going on?”

Funny shook his head. “The adrenaline’s all worn off. Everyone’s finally tired enough to sleep.”

“Ah.” That was good. At least the men were resting. 

Though not as quiet as the rest of the ship, the med bay, too, had calmed down. There were some Clones still being treated, but most of the critical cases had already been treated, and were now sedated. Even stepping into the room, all the pain and fear and sadness of his men was amplified. It hit him like a truck. Funny gripped his arm harder, leading his tired General through the rows of bed. 

“Sorry, Sir. But— but trust me. They’re through the worst of it,” he reassured, closing the door to his office behind them. Obi-Wan sat down on one of the chairs in the corner, hand returning to rub at his temple. His headache was so much worse now. He heard Funny murmur something to a medic, who’d been observing the sleeping soldiers from the side. He heard the words ‘Rex’ and ‘datapads’. Other than that, he was too tired to make sense of anything. The door clicked shut—with it, a fog settled over the devastation pooling in the Force around the injured troopers. Obi-Wan sighed, the heaviness making his shoulders slump.

Funny looked at him. “Do you want something for the headache?”

“What kind of Jedi am I?” Obi-Wan gave voice to his thoughts. Funny shifted. 

“Sir?”

“At first, I thought it was just exhaustion. Or maybe the war was finally rubbing off on me. But I was still the same, beneath it all.” Obi-Wan sighed. “But today, I was ignoring logic in favour of my own feelings. And I’ve been wrongfully ignoring Qui-Gon. No Master is perfect, after all, but I’ve been treating him like… like he knew what he was doing for all those years. Like he was purposefully trying to harm me. He wasn’t. He was just… grieving. And didn’t have room in his life for a padawan, but took one on anyway, because the Council thought it might help.” Obi-Wan founding himself chuckling. “Just like what happened to me. I know he wasn’t doing any of it intentionally, because… well, I never did anything like that intentionally to Anakin. I know I’ve been treating him unjustly, just like how Anakin… but I find that I can’t… I can’t stop myself.”

Obi-Wan quickly shook his head, not waiting for an answer from Funny, who still stood awkwardly. Obi-Wan sensed, all too clearly, the discomfort oozing from him. And…

And something else. 

Guilt?

“No, no, Funny. I’m quite sorry. I shouldn’t ha—”

“If I may, General,” Funny leaned against his desk, an uncomfortable smile on his face. “As Jedi as you may be, you’re also human. And human nature beats whatever constraints that you, or the Jedi, try to put on it.” He laughed a little, scratching the back of his closely-shaven head. “Not to speak out of turn, or anything. This is just from my observations. I mean, I’ve served in countless battalions. If there’s one thing I’ve seen first hand, it’s that every Jedi has at least some level of conflict like this. Some find balance. They’re both human and Jedi. They’re Twi’lek, or Wookie, or Cerean and Jedi. Some don’t. And it’s the ones that don’t who, you know. Find the most trouble with things.”

Obi-Wan looked at his CMO, seeing him with clarity. He’d not expected him to say that. Funny shrugged, turning away and sitting behind his desk.

“I don’t know a lot about being a Jedi, but I know about being a human. Even if some people think the Clones are something else, we still abide by the same biological laws, for the most part, as humans do. And to every human, no matter the planet they’re born on or the rules and laws they choose to live by, have one thing in common.” Funny cleared his throat, speaking in a casual way that made Obi-Wan’s head spin on its own right. 

“That being?”

“The desire to be anything but human.”

Obi-Wan straightened up, the fog in his mind making it remarkably difficult to understand what Funny was making out to be a simple concept. 

“I mean, I don’t know a lot about the Jedi or the Force,” Funny continued, growing confident. “But if the Force makes all living things, and is in everything, and is the force of life… then doesn’t the Force also dictate how you feel? If it flows through everything… then doesn’t it also flow through your feelings? Why would the Force create something only for it to need you to defy it in order to find balance? Isn’t balance the Force just existing in the way it created itself, good and bad?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, found he didn’t know what to say, and closed it. He repeated that once more before realizing how silly he must have looked. 

“Well…” Kriff, his head hurt. “It’s…”

“Sorry,” Funny said quickly. “I don’t mean to try and poke holes in anything. You’re exhausted. Oh—I sent one of the medics to fetch some stuff from Captain Rex. He offered to complete the mission report, but I doubt he’ll not appreciate your help.”

Obi-Wan looked at him, finding that he suddenly felt very inclined to continue to talk with the medic. 

“Funny?”

“Sir?”

“I don’t feel in control of my own mind,” he said, finally making real his worry. Funny looked up at him, away from whatever it was he was working on. A small smile on his face.

“General, you’ve been through a lot this past month. First with Umbara, then Kadavo,” Funny looked away at the last word, down at the floor. “And now that Jinn is back?  Not to mention the sheer amount of stress you’ve been under, both physically and mentally…” He sighed. Then, with a quiet regret that surprised Obi-Wan, he added: “You should have accepted their offer to return to Coruscant. Not just for the men’s sakes, but for yours, too.”

Through the haze that made everything bright and distant, Obi-Wan thought that Funny’s words had sounded almost like a…

“But who am I to judge?” Funny cheered up again, forgetting his previous words. Then came the doubt that entered the medic’s head, as he looked back down at his datapads and sighed. “Maybe you should talk to Commander Cody about all this.”

Obi-Wan sat up. “How come?”

Funny glanced at him, smiling again. “The Commander cares about you. And…” Funny sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Kriff, I swore to myself I wouldn’t…” he sighed, sitting back up again. Eyes flooding with guilt. “I told the Commander about what you told me about Kadavo.”

Obi-Wan’s heart sank even further. 

“What? About—”

“About the fact that you were having visions again. Nothing else, nothing specific,” Funny sighed, clearly conflicted about something else. But he discarded those feelings with ease that surprised Obi-Wan, focusing on the current line of discussion. “He practically cornered me. He’s a good man, and a better Commander, and he knows you better than I do. My advice is to talk to him.”

Obi-Wan shrank a little, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. No, he couldn’t talk to Commander Cody.

Why?

Obi-Wan asked himself the same thing. Why couldn’t he talk to Cody about all this? The answer came quickly. 

“My men put their faith in me. Commander Cody especially,” Obi-Wan decided. “I can’t.”

Can't let them know that not even he had confidence in his own decisions?

“Okay. Then, my advice is that if you think Qui-Gon’s trying, then you ought to give the space to. Next time he offers you a hand and asks to talk, accept it. Ignoring him won’t do anyone any good. Maybe you could have gotten away with it when he was dead, but now? ” Funny shrugged. “Of course, you’re not obligated to do anything, and I’d hate to sound like I’m just rehashing everything I hear, but the ‘Force’ brought him back for a reason. If you’re worried about how good of a Jedi you are, then start by doing the first thing the Jedi are taught to do: Trust in the Force.”

Obi-Wan kept drumming his fingers, steadily, slowly. Something he can’t remember ever doing before. What Windu said stayed with him, and he suddenly felt the urge to do anything but sit around and brood. 

Mace Windu trusted their judgements: It was more than Obi-Wan could say about himself.

Chapter Text

Patience was one of the many things about Anakin Skywalker that had never changed. Time and time again, without fail, it was the very thing Obi-Wan would remind him to have. When he first started his training not long after Qui-Gon died, he’d approached his new life with passionate curiosity. Even if he did miss his mother, and he missed the warmth of his home’s twin suns on his face. He was happy to get away from the sand—who wouldn’t be?--- but nowadays, stepping on similar desert planets… there was some longing to be found in his annoyance. 

His attachment to his home was probably only his second biggest fault, Anakin thought. 

At the top of the list—the long list, according to Obi-Wan —was his offensive lack of patience. 

Yeah, Anakin scoffed. If only his Master— former Master, he reminded himself—saw him now. Anakin Skywalker, sitting in the Resolute ’s cubby of a meditation space. All Republic Cruisers had them, even if they were hidden away in the ship’s smallest nooks and crannies. If the Jedi were on board, it was expected there’d also be a place to engage with the Force in private. 

The lighting was dim, and Anakin sat cross-legged on the hard floor. His eyes were closed, and he focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest. The solid body of the ship beneath him, how the metal ebbed as it crawled through space. The distant hum of the engines, pushing the massive structure forward. It all fell into its place around him, merging with the rhythm of his breathing and the beat of his heart. 

Despite Anakin’s harmony, the floor still felt uncomfortably hard, an itch disturbing the peace. He shifted, but the feeling didn’t go away. It had always been like this, even at the temple. Yes, there had sometimes been cushions, but some of the older Jedi had also insisted the younglings meditate on the hard metal floors instead:

“You never know,” they’d say, “where the Force may send you. The galaxy is harsh: you must be able to find stillness and peace even in the coldest of planets.”

Which was all well and good, but why couldn’t whoever furnished this place have thrown in a pillow or two?

Anakin put those thoughts to rest, settling, somehow managing to ignore the discomfort. It was more than he’d been able to accomplish five years ago. Back then, he’d’ve continued to shift, impatiently waiting for himself to grow bored and go do something more worthwhile, like practice katas or read about old missions. Anakin had always been amazed at how some Jedi meditated daily. Some, Anakin knew, held meditation up as the best thing a Jedi could do—luckily, Obi-Wan had always been a bit more focused on actually doing things rather than just meditating on them. His old Master was deceptive in that way: he listened to the Force, never spoke before thinking—and definitely wasn’t as far on the other end of the spectrum as Anakin, even Ahsoka, were—yet also acted when action was needed. Others who Anakin could name—many on the Council, for one—seemed to spend too much time talking. 

Maybe that’s why they hadn’t won the war yet. 

Or maybe Obi-Wan should have been more like Qui-Gon… maybe he should have taught Anakin to think through things more. Maybe then that itch of discomfort wouldn’t still be so hard for Anakin to put out of his mind. 

Anakin sighed, taking another deep breath. Hearing all these thoughts, then releasing them into the Force. 

His mind, again, quickly pulled away from his breathing.

First, Yoda had taught Dooku. Then, Dooku taught Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon was Obi-Wan’s Master, then finally came along Anakin and Ahsoka. 

He saw a shift in that legacy, a harsh line separating him, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan from the others. The first three were all great Jedi, at one point or another. Dooku and Qui-Gon had both been free thinkers, true Jedi who valued life and hope and victory over the Sith above all else. He’d never met Dooku while the Count had been a Jedi, but from the things he heard from Yoda—and the way Qui-Gon seemed to still defend his former Master—he reckoned that Dooku himself had once been great. And Yoda was, well, Yoda. 

Anakin’s chosen flavour of rebellion had been sneaking into Jocasta Nu’s archives, and reading about the exploits of past Jedi. There, he learned about Dooku and Yoda and Qui-Gon, and so many more. But Obi-Wan? He could imagine his Master’s name on some of the mission reports—even saw some here and there—but it was always different. 

Obi-Wan treated the code like dogma. He didn’t see the nuances that Anakin and the others did: the little bits that you had to bend in order to prioritize what was really important. 

Life. 

What bothered Anakin more than his Master’s strict obedience was how the man seemed to look down on Anakin. He’d never be enough—Anakin knew as much and didn’t need to be told so—but he didn’t appreciate how his Master feigned ignorance about the meanings behind his pointed looks, his judgmental overrides during meetings. Pretended not to know the signals he sent Anakin when he raised an eyebrow after a sloppy round of katas. 

Perhaps, after Qui-Gon’s death, things would have been different if Obi-Wan hadn’t taken Anakin on as an Apprentice. He’d hardly been a Jedi Knight for a week before gaining a padawan of his own—it had been completely unheard of! And perhaps Qui-Gon never should have died in the first place. Maybe that’s why the Force brought him back. Maybe the Force realized just how badly things had been kriffed up because Obi-Wan raised him. 

This train of thought brought back all the times in the past he’d had a disagreement with his Master, pulling out Qui-Gon’s name.

“I wish he’d been my Master instead!”

Each time he’d said it, he’d felt immediate regret. He knew Obi-Wan sensed it… which was probably why his Master always forgave him. But it was always with a sigh, a look to the floor, and a sudden heaviness draping over the both of them. Anakin remembered an especially bad argument. They were on a mission, and Anakin had just turned sixteen—even Jedi weren’t immune to the ups and downs of their hormone-fueled teenage years. Obi-Wan hadn’t immediately stepped back, hurt by his Padawan’s sentiment. This time, during an argument that Anakin couldn’t even remember the point of, Obi-Wan had crossed his arms at the words, gaze turning steely.

“No, my young Padawan. You don’t.”

“Well, my young Master, maybe Qui-Gon would have—”

“Qui-Gon would have tolerated your behavior a lot less, Anakin, I can tell you that much with certainty. Do you have any idea what would have happened if I said that to him?”

“It wouldn’t happen because he was a Jedi who actually gave a kriff about his Padawan!”

“Everything I do is because I care about you, Anakin!” There had been the first sign of hurt in his Master’s voice, something that always sent a stab of guilt through Anakin, even during those turbulent times when he thought he was at the top of the world.

He didn’t remember what had been said afterwards, just that he’d ended up apologizing. They both had. Then, like all their disagreements, it had become no more than another memory. Their relationship had only gotten better since then, especially following his Knighthood. Those words had always stayed with Anakin, though. 

Everything I do is because I care about you!

Obi-Wan ‘cared’, sure, but it was always brotherly. They’d stay up together and fill out reports, or spar with juvenile energy. He, too, cared about Obi-Wan, and respected him to a certain extent…

But Anakin never needed a brother. He found plenty of those with the younglings and other, older, Padawans. 

What Anakin needed was a father. During some of the dark nights of his youth, when he found himself unable to forget the events of a mission… or even now, finding his mind stuck on the war, he didn’t go to Obi-Wan. He spoke to Qui-Gon Jinn, the Master he should have had. And remembering that hand on his shoulder, the thick Coruscant accent in his ear… it never failed to quell Anakin’s anxieties. He’d considered speaking to Qui-Gon after the Council meeting instead of shutting himself away in this little room. But something, a vague push in the Force, had urged him to come here instead. And he’d missed much of what the Council had been saying anyway, mind wandering just as much as it was now. A medic had told him he’d hit his head pretty hard, but would be fine in a day or two. That must be it.

There were things Obi-Wan let go of which Anakin simply couldn’t. It wasn’t his nature. He knew he should be able to, that he ought to be a better Jedi, but…

… but maybe a different Master would have paid more attention to how Anakin wasn’t letting go of his past. Maybe a different Master would have…

Anakin forced his mind back to his breathing. This was all just background noise, he told himself. No: the reason Anakin found himself here was not to do with Obi-Wan’s failings. Well, not completely. 

Back at the temple on Kaiscen, he’d seen something. At the moment, it felt so real. It still did. He’d told the CMO about it upon waking up on the Resolute , about how he healed Ahsoka and she’d been dead and they needed to make sure she was okay, but he’d told Anakin that Ahsoka was quite alright.

They’d both been out cold when they were found.

In fact, Dooku had healed them both. 

Which begged the question, what exactly did Anakin see? A dark face, he remembered that much. The story of… Darth Plagueis. He remembered it word for word, whispers from a voice he couldn’t quite place. Distant.

He knew he knew the speaker, knew he’d seen the face of the man who’d told him how to heal her, but… it was all so foggy… the next thing he remembered was the white ceiling of the med bay.

Anakin swallowed, calming his thoughts which once again threatened to spiral out of control.

A vision, then. A vision sent to him by the Force. 

But what did it want him to do with this information? Maybe it had something to do with his nightmares? They’d started not too long ago. He couldn’t remember the details, just that he’d started waking up in a sweat. One time, it happened on a mission. 

Ahsoka said he’d been calling out Padmé’s name. 

A movement in the Force caught Anakin’s attention, and he focused on the presence in the hall outside the little meditation room. It calmed him. That’s all he needed to know who it belonged to. Before the man could knock, he called out:

“Come in, Master Qui-Gon.”

Anakin opened his eyes, letting his muscles relax out of the rigid way he’d been sitting. In the doorway stood Qui-Gon Jinn, a subtle smile on his face. 

“I expected to find one of us down here, but not you, Anakin.”

Anakin stood. “Have I really not changed that much?”

“In my eyes, it was just last week you were running around with sand in your hair, and trying so hard to not let Padmé notice your staring.”

“Only one of those things has changed, Master,” Anakin grinned. Yes, his marriage—his mere relationship—with Padmé was a secret he’d take to the grave, but something told him that Qui-Gon wouldn’t take the joke too seriously. Just as he expected, the older Jedi chuckled, stepping into the room and letting the door slide shut behind him.

“That much doesn’t surprise me.” Qui-Gon clasped his hands in front of him, taking in Anakin’s dishevelled appearance. He still had mud in his hair, no doubt. Maybe even some crusted blood. “How are you feeling? I haven’t gotten the chance to ask anyone yet. I hear Ahsoka woke up.”

Anakin nodded. “Yes, Master. She’ll be alright. I’m…” Anakin shrugged. “I’ve been a lot worse.”

“That’s good to hear.” Qui-Gon’s smile fell. “I suppose it’s not, though, is it?” He brought his eyes back to Anakin’s. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, spending your first years separate from your Master in times such as these. And raising a Padawan, too…”

“Yeah, the Council thought it would be best to get as many Padawan’s training as possible. We need all hands on deck, after all.” Qui-Gon’s frown deepened, and Anakin wondered if he’d said something wrong.

“Do you ever wonder if it teaches them the wrong things?”

Anakin’s forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps it’s teaching them how to be soldiers, not Jedi.”

Anakin didn’t have to think about his answer. “We’re trying to put a swift end to the war. To me, that sounds a lot like peace keeping.” Anakin watched Qui-Gon study him: no doubt peering through the mind of the man who could have been his padawan. “Besides. What if it’s what the galaxy needs? I know there are some Jedi who don’t lead their battalions half as well as Obi-Wan and I do. Imagine how much a Jedi could achieve nowadays if they had been raised like Ahsoka?”

At that, Qui-Gon’s eyes dropped. He seemed to think about something. He didn’t respond, and Anakin shifted his weight, crossing his arms.

“Master?”

Qui-Gon looked at him, only then realizing his silence, and gave his head the smallest of bows. “It’s all quite sudden, as you can imagine. Even before I’d seen combat first hand, I felt how the Force was different, but I didn’t fully understand until we’d engaged the… the Separatists, correct?”

“Yeah. You’re lucky we found you on Naboo before Count Dooku did. If we hadn’t been there, he might’ve taken you prisoner. Then you’d really be in hot water.” Qui-Gon chuckled, making Anakin bristle. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing, young Skywalker. How are you dealing with all this?”

“What, the war?” Qui-Gon nodded. “Yeah. It’s fine. It’s hard, with how many men we lose, and Ahsoka’s close with a lot of them… but we’re helping people.” Anakin looked down at his feet. His boots were caked in mud, so was the hem of his cloak. The floor was covered with flakes of dried dirt. It reminded him of the first time he’d walked into Qui-Gon’s little ship on Tatooine. He’d never been in a place without sand, and felt like he’d brought half the desert with him. “Recently… I’ve found myself thinking more and more about home.”

Qui-Gon tilted his head. “Tatooine?” 

“Yes. The sand, the suns.” He swallowed, stopping himself from continuing. Qui-Gon finished for him.

“Your Mother. How is she?”

Anakin spat out the words, the sudden hatred in his voice surprising even him. “She was murdered by the Tuskens .”

Anakin turned away, feeling how Qui-Gon was taken aback by the venom seeping from Anakin. It filled the little room, oozing into the air like smoke. 

Murdered. 

After a moment of silence, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Warm. He let himself relax, releasing some of that anger into the Force. 

“I’m so sorry, Anakin.”

Then, Anakin raised his chin, stepped away from Qui-Gon and looked at him with as much of a smile as he could manage. 

“It’s alright, Master Qui-Gon. I was… she didn’t die alone. I was with her one final time.”

Those words seemed to bring a little solace to the both of them, even if it was fleeting. What Anakin said seemed to remind Qui-Gon of something else, who’s eyes became distant. He started to speak, and Anakin felt like it was important that he listened.

“The first decade of my life was on Coruscant, as I was born there and adopted by the Order before my family had the chance to take me off world. There was a tree at the temple which Master Dooku would often take me to, to see a glimpse of what real life was like. To a young mind with no concept of true beauty, it was a complete enigma to me. The way its bark painted endless pictures, how its leaves changed despite the planet’s invisible seasons… I was captivated. For hours each day, I’d go to that tree, and I would just stare at it. The other younglings, most of whom still held dream-like memories of their home worlds, would laugh at me.” Qui-Gon darted his eyes to the ground, the whisper of a smile on his face. “When I hear you speak of Tatooine, and your mother, I am not reminded of Coruscant or the Order. I’m reminded of the tree. How its branches… how they reach across the sky, floating like hair in water. During some of my greatest griefs, I’ve gone to that tree.” His eyebrows furrowed, ever so slightly. “I don’t know when I last saw it. It must have been when we first brought you back from Tatooine, to speak with the Council. That was also the last time I spoke with Master Dooku before… before the Sith killed me. I often used to think about when the last time I saw that tree was going to be. How old would I be? What would I be doing? How long would it be, between that moment and my final breath? I had considered that my life would come to an end that night on Naboo. It was well within the realm of possibilities. I found, during that fight with the Sith, my mind kept returning to the tree. I wasn’t fearful, Anakin, of never returning to it again. As a youngling, I always anticipated it would be the last thing I thought about. But as I was dying, as strange as that is to say, I wasn’t thinking about the tree at all. I wasn’t thinking about the Order or the code. I was thinking about you, and about Obi-Wan. Xanatos. It was not with the fear, though, that I’d spent my last moment with you. If that's what my thoughts had dwelled on, I expect I wouldn’t have told Obi-Wan what I did. He never would have trained you.” The name Xanatos was unfamiliar to Anakin, but something about the way Qui-Gon was talking told him everything he needed to know. “All of this is to say that Tatooine is just a place, just as that tree is. You needn’t fear the loss of a place, Anakin, because the sand and the heat are not what made it your home: Your Mother was. There are some bonds that we will never fully sever, no matter the diligence and determination with which we go about trying. Now, your Mother is one with the Force. She is with you, always, as she was even before she passed. Because of that, you needn’t fear losing her, Anakin. Your current home, whatever that means to you, is with you now, and will remain with you long after you’re both gone. Fear and worry, both which I sense within you, will only cloud what is important.”

That had not been the rant on attachments that Anakin would have expected. Anakin sighed, his chest heavy. “Yes, Master, I understand.” Anakin chuckled. “Obi-Wan would have given me a lecture about how I get too attached for my own good. He’d’ve turned this into an opportunity to shame me for not following the code.”

Qui-Gon returned his smile. 

“That sounds like Obi-Wan. Though, I doubt shaming is the right word for it.” Qui-Gon clasped his hands together again, the strange moment of connection coming to an end. Once again, they were two Jedi. “Tell me about your time as his Padawan. Neither of you have said much about it.”

Anakin shrugged, looking down at his muddy boots again. “He was a good Master. He taught me well.”

“You seem to want to say more.”

Anakin shrugged. “Yeah, well, no Master is perfect.”

Qui-Gon nodded, eyes knowing. “Let me guess: Obi-Wan prioritized adherence to the code.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “All he ever did was work and train and talk. Every time I expressed the smallest opinion I had, Obi-Wan would act like I just denounced the Order.” Anaking shook his head, remembering his previous line of thought. “He must have been a great Padawan. I bet he never even…” the look on Qui-Gon’s face made Anakin stop. “What?”

Qui-Gon laughed quietly, his thin smile growing. “Obi-Wan Kenobi never told you about his days as a youngling, did he?”

Anakin furrowed his brows. “...No?”

Qui-Gon laughed again, and Anakin couldn’t hide his surprise. “Obi-Wan nearly aged out, you know. He very well could have ended up in the AgriCorps, and would have, were it not for Yoda’s intervention.”

Anakin stepped forward, eyes wide. “What?”

“Yes, he was quite the trouble maker in his youth,” Qui-Gon paused, remembering back to the days when Obi-Wan was still a youngling. “You’d be lucky if you could get him to sit still and listen. He’d have frequent visions, too, which made for an interesting combination of skill, wisdom, and fierce independence. All of which came together to form a very rebellious, rule-breaking child.”

This news came as a complete surprise to Anakin. When he was younger, there was a certain period in which he’d begun to question if Obi-Wan even had been a kid, or if he was secretly a variant of human that were born as adults. Obi-Wan had denied this accusation with a laugh, but part of Anakin had always remained suspicious. 

“What happened?” He asked. This was the only possibility: something must have happened to turn Obi-Wan into the Jedi he was today. Qui-Gon settled, some of his joyful energy dissipating into the Force. 

“I took him on as a Padawan at the Council’s encouragement. I was told this later, but they thought it could do us both some good. Obi-Wan would rebel against me by being dutiful, and taking on another Padawan… they thought it might help me. Which, for the most part, I believe it did. Anyway, Obi-Wan was too uptight, and I was too easy going. I don’t think he fully caught on to what the Council had done, using me as a way to mold him into a better Jedi. Their plan did end up working, better than expected, I must imagine. Sometimes, I worry if he took away the wrong thing from the Council’s actions.” Qui-Gon’s eyebrows furrowed, concern darting across his face again, but he easily released it into the Force with a shake of his head. “Don’t get me wrong, he was always eager to please, and to be a good Padawan. He humoured my hobbies, and always did what I told him to. But he never let go of the opportunity to make his opinion known. If he thought he knew better, if the Council or code said differently, he would say as much. There was a mission on Melida / Daan in which we were separated for a short while. That marked his final change, I believe. Ever since, he’s been the Obi-Wan we both know.”

“Melida / Daan?” Anakin thought it might ring a bell, but was unsure. “What was the mission?”

Qui-Gon raised a dismissive hand. “It was so long ago, I can hardly remember. But, I believe you’re lucky it happened, Anakin, even if you think otherwise. Obi-Wan’s who he’s supposed to be, now, and I think we’re all better for it.”

That final remark was said with an invisible wink. Anakin was unconvinced.

“I don’t know,” he looked away, crossing his arms. “Sometimes I wonder if Obi-Wan…”

…is jealous. Ignores him purposefully. Expects more. Is disappointed.

Qui-Gon listened, patiently, until Anakin figured out what to say.

“I wish I had been your apprentice, Master,” Anakin finally said what he’d been thinking ever since Qui-Gon found him on Tatooine. Qui-Gon’s face flashed with a mixture of emotions, all echoed through the Force, but none of which Anakin could put his finger on. 

“Anakin, my boy,” Qui-Gon’s eyes softened, “As much as I wish that could be so, I believe the Force meant for things to unfold this way.”

Anakin felt a jolt of anger. “Really? The Force expected Obi-Wan to train me when he was clearly in no place to?” Anakin stepped away from Qui-Gon, ignoring the Jedi’s surprise, and started to pace. “You had just died . He was hardly promoted to Jedi Knight! He was grieving , regardless of if we want to pretend we’re above that, he was still grieving. It was foolish and unwise for him to train me! And, besides, what if he only did it because you told him to? What if, all this time, I’ve just been an obligation?”

He stopped, feeling Qui-Gon’s eyes on him. His chest was heaving. Qui-Gon just tilted his head, deep in thought, seeing things in a new light. 

“I thought you and Obi-Wan had a good relationship.”

Anakin barked out a humourless laugh. “Yeah. Sometimes we do. Other times, we just argue.” He put his cheek before deciding to say more. “Sometimes I feel as though he’s disappointed in me. Like he expects more. But then I give him that, I show him I can do more, and then he thinks I’m power hungry, or enjoying the war. Which then makes me angry at him, and then that’s all he sees. My anger.”

He looked at Qui-Gon again, this time hesitating. He’d never said that to anyone else before: that he was angry at Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon sighed a heavy breath. There was something about the older rJedi that allowed Anakin to speak without fear of judgement. It’s more than he’d had with any other Jedi.

“If I know one thing, Anakin, it’s that no matter what you do, Obi-Wan will be proud. You’re both good Jedi, and better men, no matter what you choose to believe.”

“Even so, Master,” Anakin turned away again, feeling his fists clench. Words were well and good, but that changed nothing of how he felt, and there was something that made this line of thought so easy to go down. “I think Obi-Wan… I think he treats you unfairly. He knows how badly I wish you could have trained me,” he didn’t say ‘instead’, “yet he still acts as though you did something wrong. And he makes me feel guilty for saying what everyone knows to be true: you should have been my Master. I don’t mean that to be rude, it’s simply fact. Yet Obi-Wan…” He bit his tongue again, thinking. Angrily putting words together, fueled by something he didn’t know he felt until now. “...Obi-Wan is jealous of me, I just know it. Ever since you told the Council you wanted to train me, he’s been jealous. And now, with P—”

No, Anakin, he stopped himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, adjusting his posture. 

“Sorry, Master,” He turned back to Qui-Gon, who was watching him with reservation. “I’m speaking out of place, aren’t I?”

Qui-Gon just sighed, eyebrows in a pensive knot.

“It’s alright, Anakin,” he said as Anakin began to move towards the door. “I understand your worries, though I must say…” He paused, making Anakin stop just in front of the door. 

They met eyes.

“My old Padawan cares quite deeply about you, Anakin,” something flashed across Qui-Gon’s features, and he looked down. “Obi-Wan sees everything you do as his responsibility. You’re mistakes are his, too. It’s because of this he treats you the way he does.” Qui-Gon frowned. “He’s not judging you, Anakin. Every time you think he’s scorning you, or he’s disappointed in you, it’s simply a reflection of what he thinks of himself. You could be the greatest Jedi in the galaxy, and he’d still find a reason why he should have done better.”

Anakin scoffed. “So I’ll never be enough?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, my boy,” Qui-Gon put a fatherly hand on Anakin’s arm. It was warm. “I’m saying that he will never be enough for himself. If everyone else in the galaxy put as much pressure on themselves as he does, well, as skilled as the Jedi Order would end up being, not a single soul would be at peace.”

- - | - -

Not for the first time, Cody found himself questioning one of his General’s calls. Usually, this uncertainty came from his disconnection from the Force, and he knew as much. The hardwiring that the Kaminoans had instilled into his DNA told him to listen to the General, to trust the orders given to him. But everything else—his mind, his gut, his feelings—told him that his brothers couldn’t handle another mission so soon. As much respect and trust he had for General Kenobi’s calls… even he had a hard time wrapping his head around this one. 

Yes, some of his points about them having the proper experience made sense, but why couldn’t they wait for reinforcements? Why couldn’t the 501st and 212th stop somewhere first, to drop their injured off in Republic medical centres? 

He sighed, dropping his head as he walked, knowing that the answer was a simple two words:

The Separatists. 

They needed to act quickly, especially considering that both Dooku and Grievous knew of the temple—and Qui-Gon’s—existence. 

Cody had just stopped by the bridge, letting the officers know about an incoming transmission from General Koon and the 104th. Afterwards, the Commander had determined to check on his brothers. First, he’d poked his head into the barracks, casting his eyes over the inhabitants—most were asleep, some others talking in small, quiet groups. Those that were awake nodded at Cody, and he, once again, was made nauseous by just how few there were. The Negotiator , from what he’d heard, was housing most of the severely injured, along with most of the injured in general. There, too, was the larger medical team. He reminded himself that he’d have to contact the Negotiator about the recent news. They’d put every soldier who couldn’t fight on that ship and send it back to Coruscant—the Resolute , along with all the brothers who were still up for it—would go on with the Jedi. There had been a constant communication line between the two ships, and as far as Cody knew, Commander Appo of the 501st was the highest ranking clone on the Negotiator, and had temporarily stepped into Cody’s shoes, managing things from there. But the Negotiator was just trailing the other ship, being fed instructions from their bridge.

Cody shook his head, trying to quiet the worries swarming his mind and focus on the present. He thought about the dull pain in his side, finally cutting through the heavy fog that was beginning to lift. It hurt like hell every time he took a step, but at least he could think clearly. 

Cody then went to the caf, to be met with a few more awake faces. He steered clear of the hangar, which he didn’t want to see the sight of. Mud, blood, armour and helmets lying where they were tossed. The Resolute had a refrigerated storage bay beneath the med bay for the dead, which was one room that Cody had both never been in, and had no intention of seeing. 

He winced, catching himself on the wall. The corridor did a somersault, and the floor threatened to hit him in the head. One deep breath later, he was walking again. One last stop: saving the worst for last. 

Cody hadn’t yet been to the med bay, managing to avoid it back in the hangar. He’d expected it to be noisy, but just like every other room on the ship, it was covered by a heavy, quiet blanket. Standing in the doorway, Cody passed his eyes over the cots, most of the inhabitants fast asleep. Aside from steady breathing, quiet hums and beeps of medical equipment, and whispered chatter from the medics and a few patients who’d woken up, the place was eerily calm. Usually, it smelled like alcohol. Now, the air had a metallic tinge that made Cody shudder. At the far end of the med bay was a curtained bed: Commander Tano, no doubt. 

Cody began towards it, making a note of the brothers in the beds around him. Many, he knew by name. But it was hard, without the distinctive markings on their armour. Covered in the grime of Kaiscen, most tattoos or scars were covered. Only those with distinctive hair stood out. And even then… 

Cody shuddered, unable to make himself look away. 

As he passed, one brother’s eyes drooped open. They met eyes, Cody and the trooper he couldn’t name. The man’s eyes closed again, before returning to Cody. His brother nodded, then shut his eyes and groaned, undoubtedly summoning a headache. Cody nodded back, though the clone didn’t see it, as a medic had come to his side and was adjusting the drip attached to his arm. 

Cody kept walking, keeping his head down. He made it to the curtain, trying to be as quiet as possible when he slid the curtain open. Open just enough to—

Ahsoka was sitting up, looking at him with a smile. 

“Commander Cody,” she said, her voice hoarse. He nodded, sliding the curtains shut behind him. 

“Commander Tano,” he replied, not managing to summon a smile of his own. “Here I was, thinking I could sneak up on a Jedi. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Commander.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka’s smile faltered. “Funny wants to keep me here for monitoring till tomorrow. Trust me, I’ll be okay.” 

“That’s good to hear.” He tried to remember the reason he’d felt so inclined to come here. “Oh. The Council suspects there’s a similar temple on a planet near Utapau. The Council’s decided we’re to head straight there. We’re only a day or two out.”

Ahsoka frowned. “What planet?”

“We’re not yet sure. Master Koon is to send over coordinates as soon as he does.”

Ahsoka nodded. “And what about the injured?”

“They’re being sent to a medical facility aboard the Negotiator. Do you think—”

“Yes, I’ll be okay by then,” Ahsoka interjected, smiling again. “A couple of rocks ain’t enough to put me out of the action for too long, Commander.”

Cody finally found himself smiling. “That’s what I thought.” The smile was short-lived. “Commander, there’s something I’ve been meaning to…” 

Ahsoka kept looking at him, beginning to nod slowly. “It’s about the temple, isn’t it?” she said quietly. Cody cleared his throat.

“I don’t know much about the Force, but… Rex, Funny and I… we saw things.”

Ahsoka seemed to understand. “Things which you can’t remember?”

“Yes.”

“It’s no different for us,” Ahsoka rubbed her eyes, wincing at the movement. “The temple didn’t seem to discriminate between Jedi and Clones. You should tell Master Obi-Wan or Anakin.”

Cody crossed his arms, shifting his weight to his other foot to take some of the strain off his bad side. “I wish I could remember details.” Ahsoka sighed, looking down at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap. Something seemed to be eating at her. Cody cleared his throat again, the lump not going away. “Is everything okay, Commander?”

She flashed a smile. “Yes, no, I’m just… I worry about my Master sometimes.”

Cody shifted uncomfortably. This was not the sort of conversation he was used to having with the Jedi, let alone about his superior officers. He tried not to let it show, though he knew she could probably sense his unease.

“Oh?”

Ahsoka nodded, looking over his shoulder. Distantly, she said, “I feel so much darkness in the Force. Around everyone. Anakin and Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, you and the medic… even myself. I spoke to Anakin, and it seemed like something was on his mind. I worry if…” She stopped herself, biting her tongue, then looking back at Cody. “Nevermind.” He looked at her, eyebrows furrowing. Seeing his look, she just shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Cody.”

“Maybe…” He uncrossed his arms, putting a hand on the end of the metal bed for stability. “I could find Rex, if you want? He’d be happy to take a short break if you… if you want to talk or anything.”

Ahsoka shook her head again. “No, thank you. Rex is like a brother to me, but he’s close to Anakin, too. You’re…” she met his eyes. “You’re not.”

Cody took a small step closer, lowering his voice. “What’s wrong, Commander?”

There was something behind her eyes, something fearful. She shook her head again, raising a hand to her temple. “It’s really nothing. He’s just a bit… Recently, he’s been acting a bit weird. Ever since Qui-Gon came back. My Master’s been in his head, thinking, and whenever I try to ask what’s on his mind, he’s changed the subject. And, and I see the way he looks at Master Kenobi. He gets this look in his eyes.” She swallowed, looking away. “He’s always been passionate, but something’s different. He seems…” her voice was quiet, concerned. “Envious. And angry.”

Cody didn’t know how to respond to that, both wanting to stay in his place and offer good advice. Ahsoka was young, after all. Jedi or not, she was worried. “From what I can tell, General Skywalker and General Kenobi have a long-standing issue regarding Master Jinn. Letting whatever this is fester won’t do any good. But, ultimately, I think it’s up to them to get through. All we can do is be there, and—” Cody took a breath, then winced as a jolt of pain rocketed up his side. Ahsoka frowned deeper.

“You okay?”

Before he could respond, the curtains whisked open. Funny stood there, lifting his eyes from his datapad. 

“I thought I heard voices,” he said as though he’d just stumbled upon a secret meeting. “ You ,” he looked pointedly at Cody, “should be leaving my patients alone. You’re a bad influence: pretty soon, everyone will be up and about, pretending they’re not two steps from death's door.”

Cody frowned. “I am not —”

“Yeah, yeah. But you were. ” Funny slid the curtains shut, glancing down at his datapad again before putting it into the pocket of his white doctor’s coat. He looked at Ahsoka. “Don’t use the Commander as an example, Commander.” Eyes coming back to Cody. “Not if you want to stay in my good books, at least.”

A smile played on the corner of Ahsoka’s mouth. “Noted.”

Funny approached Cody, lowering his voice just a little. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Have you been taking the medicine I gave you?”

“Yes.”

“Are the bandages still good?” He was looking at Cody’s side. “Do you want me to change them?”

Cody shook his head, taking a step back. “No, Funny. It’s alright, really. I feel fine.”

That was a lie, but Funny probably had more important things to deal with. Funny met his eyes. 

“Then… is there something I can do for you?”

Cody returned his look with one of confusion. “No. Why? Should there be?”

Funny’s shoulders slumped, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Cody noticed the sleeve of his previously-white coat was stained brown. Mud, or blood?

“I brought the General to my office after the meeting, you know, to make sure he didn’t accidentally work himself to death. I get called away for ten minutes to change a trooper’s dressings, then when I came back, he was gone.” Funny was smiling, but the frustration was evident in his voice. “I’ve been meaning to try and find him, but something’s always come up. First, a brother’s stitches broke—then another one started seizing… I thought, maybe, you’d know where he went?”

Cody shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen him.”

“Okay, okay, okay…” Funny sighed, scrunching his eyes shut before opening them again, blinking a few times. Cody knew the movement well: he was trying hard to dispel a headache. “Kriff, it’s been a long day.”

Cody watched the medic regain his composure. Maybe it was the exhaustion that made him, even just for a moment, look past his suspicion. For the first time in a while, he saw just another brother, tired and overworked. 

“Okay,” Funny repeated, straightening out of—but not fully escaping—his slouch. “We could com him, but knowing Kenobi… Do me a favour, Commander, and see if you can track him down. He seemed restless. Maybe…” he thought about something, giving his head a thoughtful sway. “Hmm. He might be sparring. Go to the training hall first. If not there, he’ll be knee-deep in datapads. He could be with Captain Rex. When you find him, drag him back here. I don’t care what you have to do. If he’s not sitting in my office resting by the end of the time, I’m going to have to violate the Hippocratic oath and force him there myself.” Funny listed a few more places he might be able to find Obi-Wan: the archive room, or perhaps he was meditating. It was too much of a stretch to imagine he was sleeping in Anakin’s chamber again. Cody nodded, offering both the medic and Ahsoka a kind farewell. As he left the curtained-off space, walking through the med bay’s sea of beds, he was surprised at what he found himself thinking.

Funny’s mysteries seemed to bother him less and less the more he saw that the man cared. Not just about the Jedi, but about the other men, too. And Cody. He’d had the opportunity to let him bleed to death, back in the chaos after they’d first gotten off Kaiscen. It would be easy to feign innocence. But no, Funny had taken a chance with him, opting to try and talk instead of…

Cody swallowed, the dull throb of pain once again returning. Focus, he told himself. 

Standing outside the med bay, he looked both ways down the hallway, and thought about what Funny had told him. He set off to the left.

First stop: the training hall.

- - | - -

Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to quiet the hum of energy behind his eyes. As soon as he’d had the opportunity to, he’d left in search of something to occupy himself with. The training hall had been his obvious choice. Though, instead of practicing as he usually did, with a training droid set to stun, he’d opted instead to run the most basic of exercises: katas. The very first thing younglings at the temple were taught. Simple sets of movement, made to instill the movements in the youngling’s muscle memory. Now, Obi-Wan ran them again, with the exact precision of a Jedi of his standing. Every effort, every ounce of focus, he poured into ensuring his movements were perfect. There was no wasted flex of muscle, no ounce of his mind thinking of anything other than the location of his feet and hands. He ran the katas fast, much faster than he did as a boy. 

His current physical exertions weren’t just a way to calm his mind, no. Back on Kaiscen, Grievous had evaded them again. He’d been given another vision, as sudden and fleeting as it was. He hadn’t been able to recover. 

He felt off-balance.

He felt like time had been moving at a pace he couldn’t catch up with. 

Obi-Wan would not feel that way again.

His lightsaber crackled, hissing as it moved through the air, cutting through invisible opponents. He spun, moving up and down the mat made for sparring, feeling the Force flow around him. 

He didn’t confine himself to the katas of just Soresu, though. He also did the movements of Ataru—what he’d originally learnt under Qui-Gon. He focused on his steps, how he slid his feet across the floor. Planting his feet, changing his centre of gravity with every minute shift of his weight. Maintaining absolute, perfect balance despite the speed at which he was moving. 

He felt a tinge of something in the Force, distracting himself for just a moment. 

A moment was all it took for his concentration to break. He tried to focus once again on his movements, momentarily taking his mind off his feet. But his thoughts were so sluggish, it took more time and energy than he realized. His movements suffered, losing their crisp precision.

It was the mistake a youngling would have made. 

As he tried to step forward, he tripped over his own foot, falling forward onto the mat. His lightsaber turned off, falling from his sweaty palm and rolling across the floor. There, he caught his breath, kneeling on the mat and breathing heavily. Exhaustion rolled over him, threatening to put him to sleep there and then. He sat straight, planting his hands on his knees, and relished in his connection to the Force around him. He held it close, let it swallow him, giving him the energy he needed to, once again, get to his feet. 

It was a trick he’d learnt long ago, using the Force to sustain himself during the times when he’d been unable to sleep or eat, or been injured to a point where his body threatened to collapse. In the past, Jedi such as Mace had expressed their disapproval at his penchant to rely on the Force in such a way, but it hadn’t had any adverse effects on him yet… 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, only then sensing it. He looked up, at the figure leaning in the doorway, arms crossed. He smiled, straightening up.

“Commander Cody.” Obi-Wan clasped his hands in front of himself, hoping Cody hadn’t seen his poor excuse of a kata. Cody approached, eyes turning from Obi-Wan to his lightsaber, who’s roll had stopped a few meters from Obi-Wan. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Funny’s pretty pissed off,” Cody said. “He wants you back there, ASAP. I wouldn’t mess around with him this time,” Cody finished, serious as always. Obi-Wan smiled, waving a dismissive hand.

“Funny worries too much. Besides, sitting won’t do much good. We need to stay sharp.”

“Which is exactly why, with all due respect, you should listen to him.”

Obi-Wan sighed, walking over to his lightsaber. It felt heavy in his hands as he clicked it into his belt. “There will be time to rest after.”

“Really?” Cody raised an eyebrow, taking a step forward, momentarily forgetting his place. “Because that’s the same thing you said during Umbara. Then, that’s what you said before Zygerria. I thought maybe Kadavo would—”

“I mean it this time,” Obi-Wan insisted. “Once we learn what’s going on, why Qui-Gon is here, then I’ll take a break. Until then, there are more important things at stake than my comfort.”

Cody mumbled something Obi-Wan didn’t catch, but the Jedi chose to let it go. Cody gave him a steely look, continuing. “I thought it was obvious why Qui-Gon was here.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh? Do tell. Remarkable, how you managed to figure something out which has still eluded the Jedi High Council.”

“I think the Force knows you need closure.” Commander Cody ignored his General’s snark and kept going, where most others would have retreated. It was not what Obi-Wan expected him to do, he knew.

“Need closure?” Obi-Wan repeated, his smile tight. “You seem to know an awful lot about things which you couldn’t possibly, Commander.”

Cody flexed his hands into a fist, trying not to shrink beneath the General’s hard gaze. 

“Well, Sir, none of you Jedi have been subtle, exactly. Every interaction you have with Master Jinn has tension behind it that all of us can sense, with or without the Force.” Obi-Wan kept his gaze on Commander Cody, not showing any reaction to his words. “I know that whatever’s going on is none of my business, but this battalion is . And the men can sense something’s up, they’re unnerved. They’re willing to follow you to the end of the galaxy.” I am, he almost said. “The least you owe them is the reassurance that their lives are in good hands.”

Obi-Wan finally looked away, hearing Cody’s words. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I know.”

Cody sighed, walking towards his General so they were no longer speaking at each other from across the room. 

“Why do you think the Force brought him back?” he asked.

Something crossed over Obi-Wan’s face, emotions that were too quick for Cody to make sense of. Finally, he spoke.

“Funny told you about the visions I get. How they started during Kadavo.” Cody nodded. Obi-Wan waited for the response before continuing, surprised at the effort it was taking just to say the words. “I never remember the things I see. Or, sometimes I only remember glimpses. But the feelings that they conjured up stay. Fear. Hate.” Obi-Wan shook his head as the mere memory of it all made the emotions threaten to flood back. “I think something very bad is bound to happen. And I think Qui-Gon’s return is not because of anything in the past, but rather because of something in the future. The temple showed us Jedi things, visions. I believe what I saw was the reason my Master is back.”

Obi-Wan looked down at his hands, which were clasped together tightly. They trembled slightly, adrenaline still coursing through his body.

“General?” Cody started. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows.

“Hm?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Go ahead.” Obi-Wan studied his Commander’s face, watching him come to a decision. 

“I’ve been… concerned. About you. Ever since Master Jinn came back. I knew you spoke to Funny, so I asked him—”

“Oh, he told me, Commander.” Obi-Wan cleared his throat, looking away. “He told you about Kadavo.”

“No, Sir, he…” Cody scratched the back of his head. He was clearly trying to figure out what he was trying to say. “You shouldn’t be angry at Funny, because I was pressuring him, but he told me about something called Melida / Daan.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t hide how his face fell. Seeing his sudden change, Cody took a step back, holding up his hands.

“That’s all he said, sir. Really, if you’d rather not—”

Obi-Wan sighed. “You went to the archives, didn’t you?” Cody nodded. “It was just a mission, Commander. One in a long list of them.”

“Yes, but it said y—”

“Just a mission,” Obi-Wan repeated, though he didn’t sound angry. He softened his voice and insisted, “That’s all it was.”

Cody sighed, forced to accept the answer. But that look on his face didn’t go away.

“Is there something else?”

“Uh, yes, Sir. Rex, Funny, and I had visions in the temple.” Obi-Wan’s frown immediately deepened. 

“What?”

“Just like you described, we don’t remember any specifics, but… but we know they happened. And we still feel the emotions, Sir.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, pensively stroking his beard like the man Cody recognized. “Clones having visions from the Force is… it’s unheard of. This truly is unlike anything we’ve encountered in the past. Perha—”

Cody lifted a placating hand. “How about we go to Funny’s office? You can do as much thinking as you want there, Sir.”

Obi-Wan looked at him, chuckling. “You talk to me like I’m a youngling, Cody.”

Cody returned his smile. “I’m only doing what Funny told me to, Sir. And in medical matters, he outranks me. To me, this seems very much like a medical matter.” 

Obi-Wan reluctantly walked past Cody, towards the door. Cody followed. “Very well. Off to Funny’s infernal lair we go. You know, I think he’s the first medic we’ve had who you actually seem to listen to.”

“Oh,” Cody laughed, “No, General, I don’t listen to Funny. Not when he tries to tell me what to do. I only listen when he tells me to tell you to do something.”

- - | - -

Dooku stepped onto the bridge, immediately hit by a wall of icy air. Grievous looked over his shoulder at the Count, his metal joints creaking. 

“Ah. Dooku.” His voice rattled, amused, and his chest convulsed as he wheezily coughed. He looked back at the hologram in front of him. “He is here, my Lord. Just as you said.” Grievous stepped back, turning his attention to the rest of the bridge. 

Dooku took a breath, steadying himself as he approached. He kept his chin high, not flinching in the presence of his Master. 

“My Lord.” He dropped to a knee, bowing his head, before rising to his feet. “I—”

Sidious raised a pale hand, silencing the Count. He spoke after a moment, voice low.

“Need I be worried, Tyrannous?”

Dooku lowered his gaze. “No, my Lord.”

“The last time we spoke, you’d not yet left for Naboo. I’d been expecting an update.” Sidious drawled, his voice slowly and sickening. Dooku, calmly, looked back up at the hologram.

“I know, my Lord, and I—”

“Funny, how I learnt of the late Master Qui-Gon Jinn’s return from sources other than you. ” Disappointment was heavy in his voice. “And strange, too, how I learn of your presence here, on Kaiscen, not from you, but from a different source, again. One is led to think that, perhaps, you’ve been trying to keep this a secret from me. But, considering you came aboard this ship with no directive to, you must have realized your mistake. Am I incorrect?”

Dooku kept his face like a statue. Sidious was, indeed, correct. He’d boarded the Malevolence knowing that Sidious likely knew, at least a little bit, of his actions. This way, he could at least act as though he’d meant to tell him.

“My intention was to tell you now, my Lord. I wanted to ensure Qui-Gon Jinn truly was alive before coming to you with the news.”

“Hm.” Sidious pursed his thin lips. “I must admit, my friend, to be quite unhappy with you.”

Dooku bowed his head, feeling a tickle of fear in the back of his mind. “Of course, my Lord.”

“After all, should neither of us have lost our apprentices, you would never be standing where you are now. I wonder, if this changes anything.”

“No, my Lord,” Dooku said hastily. “It changes nothing.” 

“Really?” Sidious raised an eyebrow in the shadow of his hood. “Because I thought you healed young Skywalker and Tano… when you could have very easily ended them instead.”

Dooku’s blood ran cold.

How had he known that?

“My Lord, I—”

“You,” Sidious said slowly, relishing in Dooku’s silence, “Are going to kill Qui-Gon Jinn.” Dooku inhaled, gripping his hands together tightly behind his back. Sidious turned to Grievous. “Set a course for Nairousa. There is a temple there which put out such readings as the one on Kaiscen. The Jedi will go there, and they will make a mistake. The Nairousians will do our work for us, and the Jedi will let themselves be taken without a fight. But do not let them see you. Lie and wait. Do not go down to the planet, do not let anyone know you’re there. Have patience. Wait long enough, and you will know what to do.” He looked back at Dooku, eyes dark. “Qui-Gon Jinn must die, Darth Tyrannous. He jeopardizes our plans for young Skywalker. You know this.”

Dooku nodded again, staring at the floor.

“I do, my Lord.”

“Good,” Sidious drawled, a sick smile spreading over his face. “I trust you will do what is necessary, my old friend. For both yourself, and the galaxy.”

Chapter Text

Qui-Gon rubbed the pad of his thumb against his index finger, hands folded behind his back. He remembered a certain level of this, waking and sleeping at hours dictated by a clock rather than a sun or moon, but rarely did he spend so much time in a spaceship, without light or dark to guide him. It still felt odd that these fluorescent lights didn’t move like a sun, dimming and brightening as the sky did on Coruscant. Even if the length of days changed with each new planet he stepped foot on, there was always comfort in knowing that the light wasn’t perpetual, that it would wain eventually. Not here. It was early, judging by the clocks, though the halls looked no different than they had the previous night as he walked to his chamber. At least this room—the briefing room—was dark, as to allow the holograms to glow that much brighter. Qui-Gon kept tracing his fingertip along his thumb, eyes glancing between faces bathed in blue, all surrounding the circular table. Anakin, Obi-Wan, and three clones—one blue, one yellow, and one fizzing through the hologram. 

“We’ll transfer all who are unable to fight to the Negotiator,” Obi-Wan said to the clone over the hologram. “Bring anyone who can fight onto the Resolute. Follow the directions already loaded into the navigation system and you shouldn’t run into any trouble, Commander Appo.”

The hologram nodded, barking out a curt ‘yessir’ before fizzling away. Qui-Gon followed Obi-Wan’s gaze, still on the planet’s projection. His old padawan’s finger drummed, not gently, yet not exactly anxiously. Uneasily, perhaps. Warily. 

The clone in yellow armour spoke: “Master Koon sent out the planets details earlier today. He believes the temple is on the neutral planet Nairousa.” A graphic appeared beside that of the planet—an article or essay of sorts, detailing the Republic’s knowledge of the planet. “We—”

“We should speak to their leader,” Obi-Wan said, straightening up, eyes not leaving the hologram, scanning. “See if we can get their permission to—”

“Even though they’re neutral, sir,” the clone continued, his voice taking on an edge. “They’re not peaceful. The last time the Republic attempted contact, we were forced out with a violent warning to leave them be. They probably treat the Separatists similarly.”

“Even so,” Obi-Wan said, almost dismissively, “We must still do the decant thing, which is to reach out. If they still are uncooperative, then we’ll take a stealthier approach. Have we pinpointed the temple's coordinates?” 

The clone hesitated—the other one, in blue, nodded. “Yes.” a little red dot appeared on the holomap. “We don’t have access to the same scanning technology as the Separatists, but there are other ways of finding out this sort of thing. The Nairousans never build structures outside of their cities. Using our geographical scanners, we found an unnatural stone structure. There is only one on the planet, and it’s here.”

Obi-Wan gestured to the holomap—Qui-Gon took the opportunity to take in Anakin, who was watching his master from the side, arms crossed, eyes dark. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this appears to be a city,” his hand moves to a clump of darkened, elevated terrain, on top of which sat the red dot, “And this is a mountain. The other side seems to be uninhabited. If we can make camp there, we can hike up to the temple and avoid detection from the city. We’ll be in and out and the Nairousians won’t even know we came.”

Anakin arched a brow. “What if they have sensors? A defense system? Watchtowers? What if they take it as a sign of betrayal? That we’re intentionally deceiving them?” It was his turn to lean forward. “I say we go in strong. We don’t bully or attack, but we make our presence known and establish our intentions.”

Obi-Wan, for the first time, glanced away from the holomap. “From what we know about the Nairousians, their technology is primitive. Civilized, yet unadvanced,” He said. “It’s doubtful they have a detection system over rural or uninhabited areas, and as far as we know, they don’t have starship or flight technologies. Now, watchtowers,” Obi-Wan settled back, stroking his beard. “Yes, those may prove problematic. But if we take small ships down, or perhaps land in a more rural area, we’ll be able to avoid being spotted.” Obi-Wan sighed, bringing his hand away from his beard. “The baseline is, we’ve had no contact with the Nairousians for so long that they could have any sort of technology. No matter what we do—whether we go in guns blazing or not—we’ll be going in blind. It’s safer, and less provoking, if we attempt stealth.”

“But if they’re already suspicious, then why try to go behind their backs?” Anakin said sharply. Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan, who clearly wasn’t expecting there to still be room for discussion. “What if they are more advanced, and they detect us, and we’re jumped? Our men are safer if we go in strong and stop any kind of violence before it can happen.”

“But, Anakin—” Obi-Wan practically laughed, stepping towards Anakin. There was no humour in this laugh—Qui-Gon knew it all too well. It was the laugh of someone entertaining the whimsy of a child, and Qui-Gon suspected the habit of laughing like that was something his old padawan wasn’t aware he had. “That would ruin any chance of peaceful interaction.” 

“But it would ensure our control over the situation.”

Qui-Gon still watched quietly, hands folded behind him. Anakin’s words from last night stuck with him—He had noticed it, Obi-Wan’s judgemental nature, but at the same time he recognized that none of it was directed at Anakin, not really. Qui-Gon stood by his words. He also noticed that Anakin, despite their conversation last night, didn’t seem to be perceiving Obi-Wan’s attitude in any other way than disappointed. 

Obi-Wan tried again, calmer, “That would be counterintuitive.” Then, to one of the clones, “Once we get within range, see if you can secure a transmission with Nairousa’s president.” He glanced back at Anakin. “You and I will meet with her. If nothing comes of it, we’ll take a handful of transports and set up camp on the other side of the mountain range.” Anakin made to open his mouth, but Obi-Wan was talking again, crossing his arms and glancing from the floor to his padawan. “How is Ahsoka? Better, I hope. Will she be joining us, or going with the Negotiator?”

“She’s better,” Anakin said defensively. “And she’s coming with us.”

“Good,” said Obi-Wan. He sucked in a breath, which confirmed it to Qui-Gon: he wasn’t imagining things. The tension in the air, thick in the force, was real. “Any other news?” He asked the room. At no response, Obi-Wan nodded to himself, and left with a flourish of his cloak. Qui-Gon gave Anakin a quiet smile—a smile that said acknowledgment, understanding, empathy. Then he followed his padawan out into the hall, once again squinting at the fluorescent lights. 

“I never will get used to it,” Qui-Gon tried for levity, stopping Obi-Wan in his tracks. He waited until his old padawan’s shoulders drooped, and the Jedi turned, wearily asking what he meant. “Time,” Qui-Gon explained. “It’s strange when there’s nothing guiding it but programs and numbers.”

A small, almost undetectable frown played at his lips. “Can I help you, Master?”

Qui-Gon stared at the scuffed floor. Patience was something he valued greatly. At the same time, he knew that sometimes patience did harm—sometimes, the last thing someone needed was the permission to stay in negativity, the permission to indulge temptations they didn’t even realize they had. And if his conversation with Anakin last night had shown Qui-Gon anything, it was that things had been festering for far too long. Some change only happens after a push. 

“I think we should talk,” Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan stared at him, still. Finally, he clasped his hands together, and his frown grew.

“I disagree,” Obi-Wan’s voice was steady, lacking emotion or sway. “I think we have talked plenty, Master. I think I have nothing more to say. Or, rather, what I have to say would be unwise to give voice to.” He closed his mouth, jaw tense. “Perhaps, until we arrive on Coruscant, you can focus on your meditations. After all, this war isn’t yours to fight.”

Qui-Gon’s hands tightened together. How many times had he said it? How many times, since waking up on Naboo, did he have to convince Obi-Wan that he wasn’t some kind of—Qui-Gon found himself taking a slow breath, dispelling all these things into the Force. From his point of view, things had only gone downhill after his death—there was a rift between his padawans, clear as ever, a rift which was Qui-Gon’s duty to fix. 

“Then, perhaps,” Qui-Gon stepped forward, opening one of his arms. It was more a gesture of offering than anticipation. Obi-Wan turned again, eyes darting from Qui-Gon’s hand to face and hand again. “We can talk about other things. My previous offer is still on the table.”

“Talk about other things?” There it was again, that laugh, before Obi-Wan pulled the Force over him, engulfing the tinge of something that he’d begun to lose his tight grip on. “I’m sorry, Master, but—”

“Please, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon felt himself soften. “Humour an old man.”

A look passed over Obi-Wan’s eyes, a look which nearly made Qui-Gon give up and withdraw. It was a look he’d never seen in Obi-Wan while the man was his padawan, yet had received more times than he could count in the past few days. It was obvious that this war had not been easy on Obi-Wan, obvious in the sluggishness of his movements, the slowness as he moved his face, turning his attention from one thing to another. It had begun to show in his grasp on the Force, the security and confidence with which he used the Force. And then something changed—perhaps the sleep had helped, though the bags under his padawan’s eyes begged to differ. Or maybe he’d had a late-night conversation of his own, similar to the one Qui-Gon had with Anakin. Whatever the reason, Obi-Wan relented and brought up a hand, rubbing his eyes. 

“Talk about what?”

“Anything,” Qui-Gon heard himself say. “Cities. Planets. Historical discoveries I’ve missed. Tell me about this new world.”

Obi-Wan paused. “And then you will try, once again, to—”

Qui-Gon found himself practicing patience. “Obi-Wan, you—”

“We will talk, Master Jinn.” Obi-Wan held up a hand, taking a step away. “On Coruscant. After. But for now, with all that’s going on, I believe it may be best to take things slowly.”

The response was steadier, calmer, than the words Obi-Wan usually threw at him as of late. Despite his exhaustion and confliction, Qui-Gon determined, this choice was one of the few made while his padawan was in stable mind. It was because of that Qui-Gon found himself relenting, stepping back. 

“Patience,” he said, “Of course. You remain much wiser than I, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan nodded, almost as if he hadn’t really heard Qui-Gon’s words. “Thank you, Master Jinn. I shall…” Qui-Gon glanced over his shoulder—one of the clones, the one with yellow markings on his armor, had stepped from the room, staring into a datapad. Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “I shall see you, Master Jinn.”

With that, Obi-Wan turned, continuing down the hall with haste. Qui-Gon was left, absently wringing his hands. The fluorescents buzzed softly overhead. Obi-Wan’s footsteps dimmed, getting further and further away. 

Qui-Gon breathed in, flooding the knot in his stomach with air. Obi-Wan just needed time, that much was clear, but his discussion with Anakin last night had shown that, perhaps, time would only do Anakin harm. Patience, Qui-Gon reminded himself, exhaling. Patience.

- - | - -

Cody turned, leaving Qui-Gon alone in the hall, pretending he hadn’t been eavesdropping. Qui-Gon was still trying to get through to General Kenobi, and General Kenobi was still pretending. At least it hadn’t spiraled into an argument this time.

Not for the first time since his conversation with Rex, he found his mind returning to their discussion. It’s a shame, how loopy he’d felt at the time because now, his mind being much clearer than it was before, Cody found the memory fuzzy. He remembered bits and pieces, he remembered what Rex said about Kadavo, but it was hard to pinpoint exacts, details. 

Cody winced as he rounded a corner, briefly stopping to touch his side. He wasn’t sure if sleeping has made it better or worse. On one hand, the sharpness was duller, and he hadn’t had to take as many pain meds as yesterday. On the other, the pain was more constant. The occasional jolts of hot, fiery pain, were replaced by a constant ache, just barely bearable, made worse as he walked—he had to limp slightly, keeping his weight away from his bad side.

Pulling his chin up and giving his head a small shake, Cody continued: first stop was the bridge, to let the officers know to be on the lookout for an open channel to Nairousa. Then, Cody found himself taking the familiar route to the medbay. The last thing he wanted to do was have another run in with Funny. But considering the quickly-approaching mission to Nairousa, Cody thought the three of them—Funny, Rex, and himself—ought to have a conversation. He’d mentioned it to Rex after the meeting (while General Kenobi and Qui-Gon had slipped into the hall), and expected the Captain to be waiting for him in the medbay. It was just as he expected—the stench of sanitization and blood tinted the air as Cody stepped into the medbay, still crowded. He beelined for Funny’s ‘office.’ Somewhere in the confusion after Kaiscen, Kix and Funny had ended up on the wrong ships. So, Funny had taken coop in Kix’s office, and Kix in Funny’s. Cody found Rex already inside, who gave him a nod. 

“Commander.”

“Rex.” Cody settled beside the door, glancing around the room. Funny wasn’t there yet, but one of the boxes in the corner was open, and Cody caught the familiar glint of yellow-painted armour. He found a smile playing at his lips. He turned to Rex again, clearing his throat. “How are you feeling?” 

It was a broad, open-ended question. Rex could answer it any way he liked. 

“‘Lot better,” Rex said, scratching the back of his head. “Clearer. Still don’t remember what I saw at the temple, but I feel better.” Rex glanced at Cody’s side. “You?”

“Better,” Cody repeated. “Is Funny…”

“He’s coming,” Rex said, “Finishing up in surgery.”

Cody brought his eyes to the door. “How’s Ahsoka feeling?”

“A lot better,” Rex said with a smile. “She’s down in the training hall, actually, sparring with a brother. Seems to have lots of energy. Hard to believe she…” Rex hesitated. “Hard to believe.”

Cody felt himself nod. Part of him wanted to tell Rex about his discussion with Ahsoka, but a larger, smarter part told him not to. Ahsoka hadn’t told Rex about her misgivings towards Anakin for a reason. They were her feelings to work through. Cody was about to open his mouth, about to say something about how he couldn’t wait for all this to be over, but the door swooshed open and Funny strode in, slipping off his lab coat, which had new, dark stains down the front. At first, his eyes were on Rex. When he noticed Cody, he paused for a moment, then pulled on a smile. 

“Oh. You’re both here.” He bungled his coat into a ball and tossed it to the side. “What’s this about? Have bad news?” he gestured between them with a pen. “Because you both look grim. Then again, you always look grim, so—”

“Everyone’s going to Nairousa, to another temple.”

“What? Another one?” Funny paused, staring at Cody, a chuckle escaping. “I think that’s a really, really bad idea.”

“So do I.” Cody glanced at Rex. “We. But if they say we’re going, we’re going.”

“Okayyy…” Funny slumped into his chair. Cody saw it, the hesitance whenever he met Cody’s eyes, like he was expecting something to happen that never did. He was seeming to settle. “So… how come you two are in my office, then, if there’s nothing we can do about it?”

Rex stepped towards the desk, arching his brows. “‘Cause those di’kuts are our responsibilities. And yours, especially, as CMO. Whatever happens out there—because something will happen—we’ve gotta prepare for.”

“Our General’s come first,” Cody said, holding their gazes. “We need to be on the same page about this. Our Generals, then the men, then the mission, then us.”

Funny blinked, smile flickering. “Yeah. Okay. Of course.”

“Which means you’re not pulling any banthashit, Funny,” Cody hissed. There it was, the look in his eyes, some kind of mix between resignation, surprise, and embarrassment. “If none of this kriff was going on with Jinn and Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, you’d’ve been in the brig a week ago. We have no time to entertain whatever’s going on with you, so if Rex or I even think that you might—”

Funny held up his hands, laughing. “Kriff, okay, okay, Commander, I get it. And, for the record, I agree! Whatever happens,” he repeated, “the Jedi come first. That is basically my entire job, you know.”

Cody sighed, doing his best to do what General Kenobi always said he did. Ground himself, release his feelings into the Force. It was damn hard. Rex, too, pulled in a breath, looking away from Cody for the first time since Funny entered. “We keep an eye on our Generals, on Jinn, and we don’t let that temple mess with us again. We know what to expect this time, so there are no excuses to...” to break? To let it get to you? “No matter what we see, we keep it together.”

“Yes, okay, understood,” Funny said again, almost sinking in his chair, but his smile was still broad. He was looking at Cody again, still fiddling with his pen. “How’s the wound, Commander?”

“Fine.” Cody felt his teeth clench. Maybe it was the ache in his side, maybe the lack of any restful sleep, or maybe he was just downright losing it, but Cody was unable to stop himself from spitting out the words: “Once we get to Coruscant, after all this is over, we’re going to launch an investigation. Don’t think that we don’t know you lied, okay? We—”

“Hey.” Rex gave a look that made Cody remember his rank. He cleared his throat and nodded, rubbing his eyes. Rex took the opportunity to point at the box in the corner. “When’d you find the time to do all that?”

Funny didn’t seem to understand at first. Then it dawned on him, and he shrugged, smile loosening. “Oh. Well, you know, I’ve never been in a regiment this long. Never, uh, had the opportunity to paint my armour or anything.” He shrugged again. “I made the time.”

Not for the first time, Cody found himself at an impasse. Anger, sympathy, distrust, and pity all battled for providence. Maybe it was still the pain medication making him fuzzy, or maybe he needed more sleep, or maybe… Cody sighed, continuing to rub his eyes. 

What he wanted was a break.

“Send anyone unable to fight to the Negotiator. Kix will deal with them there,” said Rex. “Anyone good enough to carry a blaster is coming with us.”

Funny nodded, sinking into his chair, steepling his fingers. He seemed to think for a long time before nodding, clearing his throat, and sitting up. “Yes, Sir. And, er, for the record,” he glanced at Cody. “I’m not a traitor. And,” he continued before Cody could interrupt, “In my medical opinion, I’d send you, General Kenobi, and Commander Tano on the first ship back to Coruscant.” He held up his hands. “Just letting you know, so that when someone gets hurt, it’s not on me.”

Anger, sympathy, distrust, pity, respect, brotherhood. Cody stared at the door, where the scent of blood wafted in from. 

“Let me know when everyone’s where they should be. And make sure you’re ready for anything that temple, that planet, throws at us.” Cody heard himself say. “I have a bad feeling about all this.”

- - | - -

The blue hologram hissed and crackled, worse than usual. Just as they’d expected, the Nairousan’s didn’t have as advanced technologies as that of the Republic’s cruisers. Obi-Wan watched the President, a tall woman named Hajeh Less, fiddle with her display, audio crackling in and out. Obi-Wan’s hands gripped tightly behind his back, thumb digging into his palm, the rest of him still. Hajeh Less was tall for a Nairousan, a touch larger than Anakin’s height. Sleek fur ran with the curves and points of her long face, and her eyes were squint and thin, glossy pupils flickering from dashboard to the Jedi and back again. She moved sharply, with intention. It contrasted with her refined, frilly suit, which gave her an air of class and nobility rather than elected-government-official. Obi-Wan found that rather little of him was paying attention to the President. Instead, his eyes had softened through the hologram, focusing on the wall opposite. 

Qui-Gon, again, offered to talk. And again, Obi-Wan had shot him down. 

He felt his eyelids drift shut. A good Jedi would have accepted Qui-Gon’s offer, attempted to let go of these feelings. A good Jedi would have been honest, a good Jedi would have collected himself, breathed, surrendered to the Force. 

And what had Obi-Wan done if not indulged? But every time he’d spoken with Qui-Gon before, the conversation had ended in argument, guilt, shame, the realization that Obi-Wan was in the wrong, that he was failing, that he had failed. The idea of doing it again, continuing this cycle of pain and—and it just seemed… he just couldn’t do it. 

A bad Jedi, and a coward, too.

“Hello,” Hajeh Less said, backing away until her hologram showed her full frilly suit. Her Basic was broken, but her accent was easily understandable. “Apology for the delay.”

“It’s quite alright,” Obi-Wan pulled on a smile, speaking slowly. “I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is Anakin Skywalker. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us, my Lady, we—”

“Please, no continue,” she said curtly, calmly, eyes narrowing. Obi-Wan closed his mouth, exchanging a glance with Anakin, who’d barely said a word to him all day. “We no do want contact. We appreciate be left alone, Kenobi, Skywalker. No Jedi come to Nairousa, no Republic, no war. Yes?”

Obi-Wan exhaled. “Yes, of course, my Lady, however—”

“We don’t want to ally with you, or involve you in the war,” Anakin but in, “But we think your planet has something important to us Jedi.” he brings a hand to his heart. “Important.”

Hajeh moves her eyes from Anakin to Obi-Wan, then gives her head a sharp jerk. “Apology. Nairousa no contact, no ally, no war. Nothing. Jedi no place on Nairousa. You come here, you disobey, Nairousa enemy with Republic. You come, we force to kill, understand?” That last bit was said with bite, with an immovable passion that cemented the result of this conversation: the Nairousians were not going to budge. They tried a moment more, but whether the signal with Nairousia was lost or purposely disconnected, only the President knew. As her image fizzled away, Obi-Wan slumped against the table, rubbing his temple. It was Anakin who broke the silence, turning away from the table. 

“There! You see, Obi-Wan?” He huffed, beginning to pace. “They know we’re coming, now. I bet they’re preparing defenses as we speak. We’re—”

“Better that than going in and storming a city, Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s outburst surprised himself, too. He quickly straightened up, shaking his head, “I apologize, Anakin, I didn’t—”

“Why are you so afraid of being a General, Master?” Anakin stopped, eyes drilling into Obi-Wan’s. “This is war. In war, we need to make tough choices. Do you know how many of our men are injured? Dead? If we had gone in, taken them by surprise, we could have locked the city down and ensure they couldn’t attack us. We could have gone in and out of the temple like that. But now? Now they know we’re coming, now they think we’re weak, now they—”

“Anakin, do you hear yourself?” Obi-Wan almost laughed. “We are not soldiers, and we are not Generals. We are Jedi. Jedi do not—”

“The Jedi are what the galaxy needs.” Anakin pushed past. “And right now, they need strength and hope. Our men need to have confidence in us.” He paused in the doorway. “Ahsoka is in the training hall, brushing up. I’m going to join her.” His gaze hardened. “I suggest you do, too.”

And then he was gone, leaving nothing but an empty doorway. Obi-Wan sank against the table again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. A headache pounded behind his eyes. What he needed was sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes, he jerked awake again, heart heavy, breath short. A full night's rest would only come if he spent the night in the medbay, with an IV drip keeping him down. Obi-Wan exhaled, staring at the dark ceiling. It was strange, how simple the war had been before all this. Of course, it had felt overwhelming at the time, but this?

Obi-Wan shook his head, willing his body to move, push away from the table, follow Anakin, get his mind off of… everything. 

It took him a while to muster the energy to step into the hallway. At first, as he walked, his mind was aflutter—it was miraculous, how completely he managed to shroud all this in the Force, prevent it from bleeding into the world. Then, his thoughts quieted, till he was thinking about little apart from the act of walking, and where it was he was walking to. 

The pit in his stomach, however, and the headache behind his eyes, did not lessen. 

This all must be leading somewhere, Obi-Wan told himself, stepping into the training hall. This must be happening for a reason. The Force wouldn’t bring Qui-Gon back just to torment his former padawan, that much Obi-Wan had become sure about a while ago. Yet again, Obi-Wan asked himself why he couldn’t just let go, move on, treat Qui-Gon with respect, curiosity, like the Master he’d been. And again, he found himself at a loss for an answer. His words with Funny echoed in his ears. 

I don’t feel in control of my own mind. 

A realization like that, typically, should come with some kind of answer. And yet Obi-Wan was still without one, stuck with the realization, the knowledge, the guilt, and yet unable to figure out what to do about it. 

Ironic, he thought with a humourless smile. A Jedi Master clouded by emotion. That’s what all this was. Ironic.