Hey, everyone.
This wasn't initially in my plans, actually, but I had this idea...basically, the roughest situations the main characters had to face during the Clone Wars, featuring Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Rex, Cody, and some OC Clones, and maybe some Plo Koon. The fic will be six chapters (though my last fic was supposed to be three and I put out four...oops. ;) ) Like my last fic, there's no connection between chapters.
I warn you, somebody dies every chapter. They won't be they people that make it through the CW (Rex, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, etc). Although maybe I'll do a chapter without character death...it's up in the air still.
I can't promise timely updates, but this document was sitting my account and about to expire, so I thought I'd post it. I'll try to post prior to summer, definitely, but the series may not be finished until sometime during then (my break starts in early May).
I still don't own Star Wars, although I guess I own the made-up planet.
Please read and review for virtual cookies and hugs!
Love,
~HS1
Tarone is known for heavy monsoons during its late winter period, though certain sides of the planet – particularly depending on normal weather fluctuations – seem to receive heavier rainfall. It might be at the Republic's demise that it seemed an underground weaponry factory was built there. Perhaps it may also be at the Separatist's own demise; so many electronic items should short out in the rain, correct?
Maybe not, Clone Captain Rex thinks as he looks backwards towards his companions. The new men – Shinies, as they were dubbed – had ceased grumbling about the constant waterfall after the first day. He himself had learned to keep silent about the situation at hand; his complaints would only be drowned out in the water-logged planet.
Rex knows the habits some of his men have, even the habits the young commander and general have, to keep themselves sane in the bloody warfare and battles and even tepid situations, such as this. Rex himself thinks of freedom, and of what he would do following the war. He would buy a homestead, perhaps even marry. It may be a senseless dream, but Rex knows better to squash out such thoughts of happiness; it could damn near kill him after all, if the blaster fire didn't finish the job first.
One of the new guys keeps joking that he's looking for a girl. Said man had accompanied Rex to a previous mission, and had indeed went bug-eyed after time something that merely moved happened by. One man – also a Shiny – sneers, "Like you'd get a girl." Rex doesn't have to tell the trooper that he'd only insulted himself and everybody else in the reagent. They were, after all, copies of one another and someone else had informed the ignorant clone of this fact.
One trooper chews jerky, one's so nervous that he can hardly hold a weapon straight and sleeps with a small hand-held pistol close by. Commander Tano comes up with nicknames to dim the severity of the situation, and General Skywalker stares into space sometimes, a dazed look his eyes. Once, his apprentice had asked Rex what he thought that her Master was thinking. Rex figured that his General may have been secretly involved with someone, but he knew the Jedi laws and told the youth nothing of his suspicions.
However, by the fourth day of slipping through fields of rain, Rex is certain that no one is thinking of small happinesses and defense mechanisms. The endless torrent of water is a cold slap in the face. Reality, unfortunately, can screw with anyone's head if forced to live in it for too long.
He wishes he had alcohol. Anything would do, even cheap liquor. Rex isn't one to drink himself into a stupor, but he can hardly see straight at this point. A rather squeamish man beside him murmurs, "Something smells funny." This is true, too; a foul stench seems to rise from the terrain. The situation might be sickening, but Rex isn't sure he's truly alive or in some kind of hell anymore.
Any other day, a curt comment like, "It's probably you," might be forthcoming. Instead, someone grunts in agreement. Nobody moans that their muscles ache or that soldiers do not march in the rain for days on end, but there's a sagging droopiness to the legion that drags them all down.
This terrifies Rex. He's not sure if the Separatists are slowed down by the weather, or if they're slogging into a trap.
At the head of the group, the General finally stops, sharp blue eyes sliding over his group of men. One gloved hand raises and he orders, "We need to find someplace to camp.
Rex watches the men look at each other as though slightly dumbfounded. He thinks that he knows why; nobody understands why one would camp anymore, anyhow. The rain prevents anyone from adequate sleep, and even if they found a cave or someplace dry, they'd still walk in wet and have no way to strip down their armor and dry themselves properly. Misery is now the way of life for these men.
General Skywalker leads them to under the broad leaves of a deciduous tree, squirting around the edges of his platoon to ensure all are present. One man coughs weakly, but Skywalker ignores him. He looks at Rex with extra scrutiny and claps his shoulder, "Something's not right." The Jedi says, blue eyes intent as he considers the landscape.
"What, Sir?" Rex's insides turn to liquid and freeze once more; he has learned over his years spent with the Jedi that when Anakin suspects something is amiss, something is probably wrong. It's not a comforting feeling.
"The stench." Anakin replies, watching the troopers settle on the moist ground, muffled groans rising from them. There's a sharp sympathy suddenly present in Skywalker's eyes, and Rex realizes that the Jedi's joints and body must be as cold and stiff as the rest of their's. His background and duty prevents him from saying anything. Skywalker's attention returns to Rex, "It's a primitive planet - not many stay here for this season - but I think the - fertilizer - is creating the smell."
Rex thinks absently that it's disgusting, but he has seen worse. "With all due respect, Sir, if we avoid the source, I think we will be all right."
Skywalker's lips twist into a bitter grimace, "We'll see." He then returns to his men and orders them to rest; they will continue before dawn.
Dryness isn't a concern, for no one is dry anymore. Anakin's Padawan shivers slightly in the damp chill that had coated her thin body for five days. She couldn't sleep, though some of the clones had forsaken any condemning ideas of curling next to each and drawing upon their brother's body heat and were doing just that. She wouldn't dare join them, regardless of the freezing rain; while it may not seem entirely out-wordly now, she had to keep her morals and emotions straight. She was a Jedi.
"Out here, sometimes saving your own skin means doing the things wouldn't normally, Snips." A slightly raspy voice speaks softly. She starts, looks at the man who had spoken. Anakin's eyes are sealed and his back pressed against the back of the tree. A droplet of water beads on the waxy paleness of his clammy skin, then trails down his cheek, where it meets the gentle curve of his lips. She wishes he wouldn't read her mind and says so, but she still creeps over.
His retort is a half-hearted, "Then shield your thoughts, Snips."
She nearly melts. She can feel the heat radiating through his Jedi garb and she slips still a little closer to him. "What did you mean about saving your skin?"
"Sometimes to survive, you have to do things that are different. Unorthodox." His tone is clipped, but she doesn't take up her usual fiery defensive. She can feel a few clones watching their exchange, but she no longer cares.
"Are you cold?" Anakin finally asks her, his blue eyes finally blinking open, and she whispers back, "I think nearly everyone is…are you?" She knows by the heavy fatigue in his voice that the weather is draining him and she had a terrible suspicion he's getting ill. They may have terrific technology, but it's nothing to them when required to sneak stealthily into the unsuspecting Separatist's lair.
He's silent for a moment and then snorts a little, "I generally am." He says this ruefully, almost jokingly, and she's a little taken aback.
"Oh." Is all she can manage. Suddenly, Anakin's arms slip around her shoulders and he snugs her closer to him.
"Master," She whispers fiercely, despite the fact that their body heat permeates the other and she feels somewhat warmer, although still soggy and uncomfortable, "This is against the Code, isn't it? Hugging?"
One eyebrow raises a millimeter – he is too exhausted to offer her much more of a facial reaction – and he says, chest rumbling, "Don't think so. This isn't really hugging." He's also married, he thinks, but his Padawan doesn't know this. His eyes are closed again, his breathing even, "It'll help with the warmth. Try and get some sleep, Snips." He murmurs.
She's not ready to sleep and whispers back, "Why does this area smell so bad?" He's tired and wet and cantankerous, and so he wants to be irritable with his apprentice, but he just can't. The little Togruta is trembling slightly in the cold, and the fingers that grasp his soaked-through cloak are wrinkled and peach-colored. She looks drained and exhuasted. He understands that her talking is her way of feeling - or sometimes not feeling.
"It's a primitive planet, Ahsoka. The rain is dragging up the contents of some of the sewers, I think, and there's also fertilizer from the fields ."
The girl wrinkles her nose in disgust; surely this was not what she had in mind when promoted to Padawan. She doesn't respond or complain, though, aware that this is the best her Master can do at the moment and that he is suffering as much as her. She closes her eyes instead and nestles into his chest. She doesn't expect to sleep, but she gradually drifts away.
He wakes up to find himself sunken in the mud and he freezes when he realizes what has happened here. Anakin immediately pulls his hand from the rapidly rising gunk and pulls himself to his feet roughly, forgetting the youth asleep on his shoulder. She jerks awake abruptly and stares in horror, "Master." She gasps in shock.
Anakin hauls the child to her feet and steadies her, warning, "Stick close to me." He shakes the disgust from his mind firmly and tries to see the thick bantha fodder they wallow in without actually seeing it.
The thick mud is growing deeper quickly and makes it hard to move, but over the steady downpour, Anakin screams at his men to move out, quickly, and to seek shelter. His eyes are scanning his platoon, desperately looking for his right-hand man. He knew something was amiss, "Rex!" He shouts into the wind, cupping his mouth with his hand. He wipes the water from his face with his hand and smears it with mud. The smell is practically unbearable and it's all Anakin can take to keep trudging. He's hoping that he won't suddenly sink and drown, praying that he'll make it.
The wind screams at him, assaulting his ears. He can't see any of his men anymore, except for one man he rips to his feet. "Stick close." Anakin yells, "We have to get out of here."
There's crud dripping from the guy's chin, gritting his eyes red. The man looks terrified, not that Anakin blames him, and the Jedi presses on best he can. He's yelling, screaming. The wind is deafening, the rain driving. He can hardly see, hardly move, but he has to, he reminds himself, he has to get out of this horror film before the ground stakes its claim on him and swallows him.
He turns to address his apprentice and realizes she's not there. His stomach plummets. Sithspit. He growls to himself and tries to pinpoint her in the force. Using her light, he pulls through a few meters and finds her hugging a rock tightly. The Togruta looks at him with wide eyes, "I can't see." She sobs, teeth caked in gritty mud, "I can't stand." Her face is brown, as are her headtails, and he can see her body struggling not to sink. He's now waist-deep in the muck himself, and realizes that they need to get out of here now before he can't even touch the bottom. He grasps the girl's arms and in one motion flings her to his shoulders. She gasps in pain, but then grits her teeth.
Anakin struggles to concentrate and wades through the thick substance, pushing the thought of his squadron out of mind for the moment. He needs to get him and Ahsoka to safety, and then he'll find them.
He finds a tipped tree, and pushes Ahsoka into it, screaming, "Climb, stang, we have to get out of here!" The mud is sticking to his stomach through his clothing. Once she's up, grasping the branches desperately, he follows suit, and pleads with the Force to keep this tree standing. He pleads with the Force to keep his platoon alive as well.
When Rex awoke, he could faintly hear General Skywalker screaming. The icy feeling returns immediately when he blinks his eyes open and finds himself sitting in a mudbath, surrounded by his men. He spurs into action quickly, shaking shoulders, and yelling commands in a clipped tone in an effort to get the troops moving and out. Some sit in absolute fear, particularly the new ones, the ones he has barely gotten to know yet. Rex doesn't pull them to their feet, but says steadily, "If you don't save yourself, you will die." That gets them going.
He pushes through the mud...and fecal matter...trying not to think of the substance that covers his body as he does so. Rex occasionally looks backwards to see how the others are doing; he knows there must be higher ground somewhere.
A strangled scream reaches his ears and he whirls, seeing one of the Shinies sinking into a treacherously deep patch. The man's arms are waving desperately and one of the other troops is grasping on his arms, screaming, "Lemon!"
Rex screams, "Keep going!" He knows that these men have grown up together, but here, they can't all stop and jump to the rescue. The others keep going and struggling, but Rex pauses briefly to watch the Shiny try to draw his brother out the watery, murky grave. He succeeds for one brief moment; mud streams out of the man's noses and clogs his eyes, ears and mouth, and it's clear that he's inhaled it. He's suffocating in it. Suddenly, Lemon sinks again, and the Shiny tries to leap in and find him, but Rex grabs his arm, "Go!" He yells, "Go!" It's too late, Rex knows that, he could see it in Lemon's mud-stained face.
The Rookie Clone is stunned and trying to move, but his eyes sting as he watches and re-watches his brother, his friend, choke on the thick mud in the pouring rain.
Somehow they reach higher ground, where the other men have gone. Rex closes his eyes when he gets there and mistakenly rubs them, filling them with gritty mud. One man down in a mud and crud-filled grave and no idea where the General or Commander is. The Shiny who had tried to save his brother stands beside him, looking disheartened and lifeless and Rex claps him on the shoulder gently. Compassion here is not frowned upon, but this is far too common. The image of Lemon struggling, mud staining the familiar face - the face that looks just like himself - fills his throat with bile and Rex turns away.
The sun is shining mockingly when Anakin opens his eyes. It hurts to blink them open because of the dirt - it's heavy and he can still taste it in his mouth. One hand is on his Padawan's wrist, who is breathing feebly. "Snips." The quality of his voice is gravelly and thick with fatigue and leftover mud. If any of his troops made it, it is clear that they will all need medical assistance and soon. The Togruta squirms and blinks hooded and dimmed blue eyes at him. Damp dirt sticks the quarters and the apprentice's head darts to him, her extrasensory headtails allowing her to properly locate him. Her eyes are vacant and Anakin's heart sinks. She cannot see.
Anakin pulls her closer to him and straightens, looking for any sign of his men. His eyes find them lying out in the sun only yards away. He looks down at the sludge, where it sits tranquilly and teasingly; it appears harmless, but Anakin has a feeling sending himself into it would sink him to the hells of Corellia. No, he determines, judging the distance carefully, they must jump.
He turns to the girl first, and probes her shoulder gently, "I know you can't see, Ahsoka, so I'm going to use the Force to guide you over there, 'kay?"
The Togruta nods stiffly, relaxing in the warm Force waves Anakin wraps around her slim body. He pulls her back, hushes her when she starts and gets unsteady, and guides the Togruta to the shore with the clones. Ahsoka sits up once there and frantically rubs her eyes in an attempt to see. Anakin is relieved to see Rex there, and his Captain guides the Padawan to her feet carefully.
Anakin draws in a deep breath, calling on the Force to surround him in it's immense prowess. He screws his eyes shut for a moment and then they spring open once more. He exhales and leaps through the air madly, knowing that he should not make this distance, but he has to. He reminds himself he can't die on her, or Obi-Wan, or Padme. They still need him.
He lands on the outskirts of the mud pond, knee deep in the thick brown syrup. He stands, pulling his arms and legs out of the gunk and moves towards Rex, whose let go of his apprentice. "Sir." Rex greets.
"Rex," Anakin breathes, "I'm glad to see you. How many are lost?" Anakin's eyes pass over the remaining troops, stopping at one man, whose eyes are latched onto the ground mournfully. He projects wave-like sorrow into the Force.
Rex shifts, "'Bout half, from the count."
The Clone beside him shudders imperceptibly, and Anakin realizes that his emotions are not created from the harrowing night that the group had, but rather the deaths of the others. Anakin shakes it off, then glances back into the mud where some are buried. He closes his eyes, "I'm going to try to get a signal with the Council. This is a disaster."
The Shiny - who hadn't had a name - is officially dubbed Mudder for his heroic attempt to save Lemon and in honor of the deceased troops. Before the troops embark again, he salutes the mudhole by way of good-bye, then turns and descends with the others.