Author's Note: Hi everyone! Before we get started, I thought I should comment that this is part three of a trilogy. It is preceded by Said the Joker to the Thief and What Any of it is Worth. The events in this story may not make much sense if you have not read those. This story picks up roughly one year after the end of What Any of it is Worth.

This is Not Our Fate

No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late"

All Along the Watchtower – Bob Dylan

Chapter 1. A Dark and Laughing Rain

It was a glowing world.

From a distance, Nar Shaddaa gleamed in the night like a faceted jewel, a well lit beacon contrasted by the endless black of space. It shone with a radiance all its own, the paler illumination of reflected sunlight swallowed by the workings of a world so virulently alive.

To approach, though, gave lie to the brightness. The thin, grey clouds in the upper atmosphere were made of pollutants as much as vapor, with towering factories belching fumes to the sky. The spindly, rusted metal fingers of ancient refueling ports and loading docks reached up into the air as though trying to claw their way away from the surface, seeking escape from the world they were so resolutely affixed to. The air was thick, metallic in flavor, dry and dirty from centuries of manufacturing and the swelling press of billions of beings, crammed into towering cities without the infrastructure to support them. To walk the skywalks at night was to see that the light emanating from the Smuggler's Moon was from a million casinos, cantinas, degraded spaceports and overcrowded slums.

It was a world of decay, of subversive trade, of cutthroats willing to buy, trade and sell what was not easily found elsewhere.

Cody felt vaguely dirty simply walking around, as though a fine layer of filth had crept through every layer of his clothing to encrust even his skin. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, scraping grayish grit out of the corners with a dirty fingernail, blinking several times as they watered. He grimaced and readjusted his position, hunkering down in the corner of the hallway while reminding himself that kicking the drunk on the staircase, just to stop the buzzsaw snoring, was unlikely to do much good.

The entire tenement was squalid; dusty bottles of drink were collected in various spots in the hallway, which was sticky with dried alcohol, refuse and who knew what else. The stairwell smelled unpleasantly of stale urine, and he kept his nose buried in the sleeve of his coat. His coat didn't smell great either, but it was, at least, the somewhat more familiar scent of his own sweat combined with a bit of dust.

He glared down the hallway, gaze fixed on the apartment halfway down, willing its occupant to come home soon, before he told Caw to forget it. He could find another job to scrape together enough money for a transport elsewhere; he needed the money, but he wasn't a soldier slogging through a miserable set of orders out of duty anymore. He had enough credits for a couple cheap meals, and could probably scrounge up another nominally safe place to stay for another night. Nar Shaddaa was a useful place, but it made him miss Alderaan's pure beauty with a physical ache.

The meeting, at least, had gone well. Over the last several months, he'd surmised the entire Corellian sector was quietly arming itself, with scattered pockets of resistance forming steadily. He smirked a little at the thought. The Corellians had a reputation for recklessness as well as bravery. Perhaps it made sense the first stirrings of a united resistance were slowly rippling outward from their turf. Nar Shaddaa, with its own reputation as a stronghold of smugglers, served as an excellent meeting place with a Corellian gunrunner by the name of Artos Esus. They'd done business and come to a mutually beneficial agreement that kept the origin of the weapons secret, and as well as their eventual destinations. Nondisclosure was a beautiful thing. Cody already sent an encrypted message on to Rex and Ahsoka; they'd rendezvous with him on Pantora in a week for a full update and a debriefing on the situation.

Unfortunately, he was running badly short on credits. A couple of short Sabacc games earlier in the evening proved his luck wasn't extending as far as cards, and if he wanted a ticket off this filthy rock, he needed a job.

Calling himself a bounty hunter would be a great exaggeration. "Hired muscle" tended to be the better term. On Nar Shaddaa, someone seemed to always be in need of something, and quite frequently someone was needed to rough someone else up to get it. Conyn Caw, the owner of the casino he'd been playing cards at, was having an apoplectic fit when he'd begun considering his luck and other options. It didn't take any particular skill to overhear the vitriol hissing out of the Duros' mouth as he berated one of his more regular employees, the pair walking through the casino's floor.

Some card shark had taken Caw for too many credits. By the level of outrage and disbelief, Cody suspected whatever game this Briseis Whitelighter was in, it had been deliberately rigged against her. A cheat got cheated, and he wasn't happy about it in the least. Cody offered his expert services, and they'd been accepted, likely because he wasn't asking for much more than enough credits to feed himself and buy a transport ticket.

A few hours later, he was sitting in the woman's hallway, slouched down in a corner with his hood pulled over his forehead, giving every appearance in the world of being another passed out drunk. He'd wait for her, spook her a bit, get what she hadn't spent of Caw's money back, and get himself down to the spaceports before sunrise. Frankly, he found her scamming the obnoxious man somewhat amusing, and had no real interest in roughing up a mere grifter and card shark.

He sighed, then stiffened. At the end of the hallway, there was a faint ping as the turbolift reached the floor and the doors slid open, revealing a narrow, dark figure carrying a shopping bag. Stepping further down the hallway and into its' dingy yellow light, Cody's attention sharpened further. The figure was female, and was angling her way towards the correct door. He breathed in deeply, preparing himself, and noticing the new, more pleasant aroma of freshly grilled food join the staler ones. She was carrying a late dinner.

Briseis was ready to enter her apartment, her hand reaching out to type in her authorization code into the control panel beside her door. Cody tensed, his fingers sliding under his coat for his blaster as he edged forward.

Then she hesitated. Her gloved fingers hovered an inch above the control panel, and he watched her straighten, her head gradually tilt to the side as her shoulders stiffened. Slowly, she turned towards him, her body shifting into a more guarded position.

Cody froze. Her head was wrapped in a black hood, her face indistinguishable, swathed in a black scarf. All he could see was a shadowed set of eyes. Once they met his, they abruptly shifted from wariness to abject terror.

Her food slipped from her fingers and splattered across the floor. Then, between one blink and the next, she was gone.

Cody swore, bursting into action. She was his ticket off-world, at least if he wanted to get off-world anytime soon. She'd ignored the turbolift, and he was covering one of the two other means of escape. He bolted down the corridor, reached the crux of hallways in time to see her at the end of the next one, a swirl of black flinging herself through the exit. It was situations like this when he hated working on his own. The presence of one of the others would have prevented this from happening. There was no one to cover the flank.

She was leaping down the stairs lightly, and as he stuck his head over the rail for another sighting, he barely managed to dodge a sudden shot of blasterfire. The bolt winged past him, almost searing off his ear, and he cursed again. He jumped after her, swinging himself around the railing with enough torque to wrench his arms painfully, stumbling as he hit a landing, bursting forward again in a desperate attempt to keep up.

A door slammed, just below him. He hit the next landing with a stumble and rolled upright, kicking the door open and drawing his blaster as he emerged in a crouch onto a backstreet skywalk. He breathed heavily, ignored the new bruises that were likely already forming. What species was this woman? Her figure was distinctly humanoid, and there were few capable of moving with this kind of speed and agility.

A flicker of movement at the end of the alley set him into motion again, this time with his weapon drawn. She was concentrating on speed rather than stealth, though her dark clothing helped her to blend easily into her grungy surroundings. He chased shadows, bits of darkness flickering against the vague light in the back alley.

Then there was brightness. He burst into an arcade of cantinas, their garish, primary colored neon signs standing in sudden contrast to the darkness behind him. He blinked, looking quickly across the milling people wandering the arcade. There was a ripple just to his left, a disruption in the flow of the crowd, slowly disappearing as more figures drifted through the street.

He broke into a fresh run, trying to resist a smile. It'd been awhile since he'd had this kind of challenge. Most of his work of the past several months involved observing, watching, reporting, subtly trying to tease out leads to other resistance cells.

An honest chase and fight was strangely refreshing.

He slammed into someone's shoulder as the crowd thickened, growing denser as he moved further into it. More people made maneuverability difficult, and his target could more easily blend into the mix, to travel along on a tide of beings. He stopped, turned back and forth, seeking out the black clad figure. Sentients of a dozen different species drifted across his view, and he cast a quick look towards the buildings. If she went into a cantina, running and brandishing a weapon, she'd stand out. The arcade was the main strip; smaller alleys seemed to branch off every so often. He picked the nearest. She was unusually panicked, for simply seeing him. He hadn't even drawn yet. Right now, her goal was escape. Her actions suggested this was a pre-planned route; she was ready for flight. That kind of preparatory thinking suggested she had been chased before, and was ready for an attack at any time.

She'd need to get off this level of the city. If she really was that prepared, she'd have somewhere ready to hide, and it wouldn't be too close to her home. Down seemed safer, a place to go to ground, but up led to spaceports, and spaceports meant escape from the entire planet, if necessary.

Cody pushed further through the crowd, reaching a set of pathways running in three new directions: left, right, and up. He went up, and as he wove his way through the crowd, he was rewarded by sighting his quarry's slender figure.

She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder, and their gazes met a second time; the fear was still there, mounting with the realization he was still on her trail. She broke into a fresh run, roughly shoving a pair of haggling Gran out of her way. Cody took a deep breath and rushed after her, keeping her dark shape within his line of sight. He had gained a little on her, but she was beginning to pull ahead again.

The crowd thinned; they were again in the back alleys, and he continued his pursuit more cautiously. She wasn't shooting when there were people around, but she'd taken a shot at him in the stairwell. He drew his blaster again, approached more cautiously, listening for any noises that may give away her location.

It was quiet. He continued forward, keeping to the shadows and against the walls of the buildings, glad of the occasional streetlamp and lit window above. There was something unsettling about the whole situation. Even if she'd quickly concluded he was there for her, her fear level and pre-planned escape route were unexpected. Typical civilians didn't usually think of things like multiple exits and various means of escape. It was pure luck he still had his left ear right now. She was a good shot. Whoever she was, she was either chased down by angry casino owners entirely too often, or she was more than just a card shark.

Part of him said to forget the whole deal. Caw was just a means of semi-honestly earning money for his transport. He could find a different way of moving on to Pantora. Even the satisfaction of a good chase and fight didn't make getting shot worthwhile. He didn't appreciate getting shot at, but some sort of petty revenge against that was hardly enough reason to pursue the woman. He could just walk away. He paused, deliberating, coming up on a narrowing of the alley where a pair of massive dumpsters squatted, billowing a rotting kind of stench. One streetlamp hung above, casting a circle of stark whiteness in the center of the walkway.

The motion was subtle. There was a shifting of solid black against ash grey shadows, just above the further of the two garbage bins, and he barely saw it out of the corner of his eye. Years of life in battle dictated immediate defensive action. He flung himself behind the second giant bin, just in time to avoid a green bolt of blasterfire. It scorched the corner of the dumpster, melting a clump of rusted durasteel and turning it to slag.

Careful not to burn himself on the molten metal, he crouched low and returned fire, his own blast of blue slamming into corner the dumpster she was hiding behind. She released a volley, and he leaned back further, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath as the stink of charred metal filled the air. Judging by her turning to fight, she'd realized Cody was on his own, and figured the odds of her winning were better.

Then there was a screeching kind of groan. Instinct cautioned him to move back, and he leapt away from his dumpster as the second one came roaring down the alley, its flat bottom screaming against the duracrete ground as it was propelled forward, small sparks kicked up from its corners. It careened straight into his dumpster with a tumultuous crash, transforming his cover into a giant, stinking wrecking ball out to squash him.

There was no time to consider what was happening or how; just that it was. He didn't remember moving, but there was fire burning through the muscles of his arms and legs as they catapulted him out of the way. He hit the further wall of the alley, slamming into it awkwardly. He stumbled, grasping around for his blaster while trying to right himself. What the hell was going on?

She was rushing him at the same moment he was on his feet. He had no weapon, and there was no time to find it. She was only a stride away, her blaster up and her finger on the trigger. Again, Cody contorted himself to get out of harms' way, overbalanced, and desperately tried to keep his footing. Without a weapon, he was at even more of a disadvantage; he had to turn this into a hand to hand fight to survive. He spun himself forward even as he lurched out the way of another shot, bringing himself within arms' reach. Still unbalanced, all he could do was smack her outstretched arm down and away, and heard the satisfying clatter of a blaster falling to the ground.

He got his feet under him, swept forward, pressing his momentary advantage. She ignored the weapon on the ground, wisely choosing to fight instead of distract herself with scrambling after the blaster. He was heavier and larger than she, and he used his weight against her, planting his feet solidly so he wouldn't be thrown off them again, and using all the strength he could push up from his torso to drive a fist at her head.

Then she was suddenly lower, bending backward in an impressive display of flexibility and balance, his fist connecting with only air as he tried to stop before he overextended his reach. His fist opened, fingers grasping, as he saw her black gloved ones move into place on his wrist and forearm.

There was no time to even curse before he felt her thin fingertips driving sharply into clusters of nerves, and her grip suddenly became hard as iron, turning his arm even as she uprighted herself. He floundered, his hand clasping fabric even as he was forced to fling himself forward to avoid her snapping his arm out of its socket.

His scream of pain was short, the sound cut off as he slammed into the street hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He gasped, vaguely noting that she'd released his arm as he rolled onto his back.

"If I kill you now, you can't report back."

Cody forced his eyes open, trying to focus on anything other than the burning in his shoulder. The dark figure of Briseis Whitelighter was looming over him, her blaster in her trembling hand. Its barrel was close enough that he could look down it, but far enough away that he could not easily reach out to grab it, if he were able to move properly. He looked farther up, following the line of her arm. Backlit by the streetlamp behind her, her face was a mass of shadows, black hair spilling wildly around her shoulders as she glared down at him. He strained against the dark, picking out wide eyes and a thinly pressed mouth, her olive skin made almost ash in the light.

It was the tattoos that cut through the glaze of pain, and made him realize exactly who he was facing.

Across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks, there was a pattern of delicate diamond shapes.

Barriss Offee.

She stood above him, terrified and triumphant and strangely beautiful in her victory. The streetlamp gave her a sharp, backlit halo of raw light. Amid the pain, Cody found his mouth run dry and a hazy sense of awe.

This was a surviving Jedi Knight who found a clone outside of her home. She could only conclude he was a stormtrooper in plain clothes, scouting her out before a squad came to kill her. She was ready, she was alone, and she was unbroken.

She was hesitating, her breath coming raggedly, her hand still shaking on the blaster. He was unarmed, injured, and had his hands up in some semblance of surrender. She was still a Jedi, if a fugitive one. Killing an unarmed man would grate against her nature, even if he was, perhaps, a stormtrooper.

He'd known Commander Offee as a padawan, years ago. General Kenobi worked with General Unduli when the situation demanded, and they'd been acquainted, if only in terms of planning missions and not shooting at each other when in the middle of a battle. She practiced Soresu, used a blue lightsaber. She was among the listed dead Jedi, when the Empire first began issuing warrants for any who had escaped the initial purge.

And she was friends with Ahsoka Tano.

"Alive," he said, rasping out the words and still feeling winded. His head was aching from being knocked into the ground. "Ahsoka is alive. And well. She's still alive."

He could almost feel her tension suddenly ratchet higher, as he heard her suck in a sharp breath and saw her stiffen, edging back slightly as though struck. "You lie," she hissed at him, jabbing the blaster slightly forward to emphasize her point. "Everyone is dead. Murderers!"

It hurt, because it was painfully true. He shook his head, wincing. "I'm not Imperial. Deserted. Ahsoka is alive. Safe. You're a Jedi." He met her fierce gaze, held it. "You know I'm telling the truth."

He waited, and watched. Her hand shook violently for a moment, and she visibly restrained herself from shooting him right there. She was shifting, forward and backward, indecisive. His head began to stuff up, as though a fog rolled across his mind, blurring reality. She spoke again, voice tremulous with fear and some thin lining of what he could only assume was hope.

"Tell me the truth," her voice came, and he heard it in his head as well as through his ears. It was dizzying. "Ahsoka is alive?"

He managed a nod, grimacing in pain, though the response slipped from his lips so very easily. "Yes."

"Where?" she commanded.

Cody struggled against the cloudiness inside his head. She was inside, her voice echoing unnaturally along the corridors of his mind. As the sound of her words reverberated through his skull, he understood what she was doing. "Get out of my head," he grumbled, dizzily trying to push himself up while a fresh shot of pain lanced through his arm. "I'll tell you without the mind tricks."

He couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction at the sudden flash of irritation on her face. The fuzziness in his head swiftly abated, and he continued, "I don't know where she is right now. Supposed to meet her next week for debriefing. We're both," he waved his good hand, unsure of exactly how to describe the relationship. Coworkers? Associates? Rebels? Accomplices? Friends? In-laws? He doubted she'd like the last term.

With a grunt, he managed to prop himself up on his good arm, and tentatively flexed his fingers on the injured one. Nothing seemed to be broken, but it hurt.

Offee was scowling at him, her blaster still trained on him. She was still suspicious, but whatever honesty she'd discovered while mucking around in his brain seemed to have shaken her certainty of his being an assassin. He wanted to glower at her for doing such a thing, but considering the circumstances, he couldn't really blame her. The Force was another weapon in her arsenal, and she thought he was trying to kill her. He'd have done no differently.

He held up a hand, made eye contact, then slowly began to lower it towards his belt, where he kept the long range communicator he used to contact Rex and Ahsoka. Offee bristled, and he quickly said, "I'm contacting her. You took out my blaster. I have a vibroknife at my back but can't reach it at the moment," he said, wincing a little as he painfully moved his bad arm, forcing his fingers to unclasp the lock on his belt pouch, then pulled out the commlink. He fumbled with it, finally turning it on and opening the channel.

Static. Offee's expression darkened with suspicion. "Hyperspace," he said, pressing a small knob on the side of the device. At the top, a tiny red light switched on. "Emergency evac request," he explained, tilting the unit towards her so she could see what he was doing. If he wanted to keep her from shooting him, best to play this straight, open and honest. "They'll be on their way as soon as they can."

Her eyes narrowed. "They?"

Cody dropped onto his back again, lying flat against the ground. "Rex is with her."

She studied him for a moment, and he felt no intrusion in his mind again. He waited, and watched as she examined him, focusing on his face and letting her attention linger on the scar trailing down one side. "You're Cody," she said. He nodded wearily. She seemed wary, but could not keep out a note of hope from her words. "Master Kenobi…?"

"Alive." He chuckled once, dryly. "Not for my lack of trying at the time."

She gave him a strange look, but backed away a half step, though her blaster remained drawn and trained on him. "If this is a trick, or you are lying, I will kill you before any other stormtroopers get to me."

He closed his eyes. "Fair enough," he agreed.

For the second time that night, Cody sat huddled in a corner, waiting.

She brought him to an abandoned warehouse, less than half a kilometer from an equally abandoned loading dock. It was an ugly area. She'd marched him quickly down dark alleys, her blaster drawn, discreetly pointed at his side. They moved in the shadows where no one could see. Here and there, sounds of life passed by; of fights, of a blaster shot, of a distant scream. The warehouse was deep in this kind of territory, and the sounds of Nar Shaddaa's nightlife could still be heard punctuating the silence.

Offee sat opposite him, placing herself in the way of the stairs they'd taken to reach the rooftop. He guessed she would be able to augment her jumping abilities enough to make the leap to the next building, if she needed a quick exit. Without a rappel line, his only way out was the stairs she was guarding.

The first hour was agonizing. She ordered him to sit. He sat. Then she sat, and she glared, only occasionally interspersing the glowering with looks of sudden nervousness. She kept her blaster pistol drawn, constantly aimed at his head. He still hurt; his whole arm moved, so he was sure nothing was broken, but he'd banged it up, and then she'd banged it up, and he was pretty sure under his coat his arm was mottled with purple bruising.

The second hour wasn't quite so bad. She was still glowering, her lips pressed into a constant frown, but she'd slowly allowed the blaster to lower, so that it was pointed instead at the floor. It meant, at least, she would take a moment to consider blowing his head off before pulling the trigger. She stared balefully at him, and he uneasily resettled himself.

The third hour, he let himself doze off, and woke sometime later to find her also nodding with exhaustion. Cody stretched out his bad arm and began to roll forward as though to stand. Hours of sitting on the cold, hard roof left him stiff and sore. Offee's head snapped abruptly up, her glare returned, and her blaster resumed targeting his head. He held his hands out, palms up, then slowly made a display of innocent stretching. He settled back down, tugged his coat around himself, and hunkered back against the wall. He slept again.

It was sometime just after a grey dawn when he woke, to find her with her eyes closed, her head lolling to one side, and her blaster loose in her fingers. Remaining still, he considered her.

She'd grown. They'd all aged, but with seven or so years between the last time he could remember seeing her and now, the changes seemed abrupt and distinct. Even as a young Jedi Knight, she'd still had a bit of a teenager's awkwardness, an angularity that was now willowy, and even in sleep, she possessed a sense of adult grace. He'd torn off the scarf covering her face in their fight last night, and she'd been unable to pull her hood up properly with only one hand, the other occupied with her blaster. Long black hair spilled in tangles around her cheeks. Her dark lips were slightly parted as she breathed.

She'd survived. Cody did not know where she was when Order 66 was given, or who shot at her, or what she was doing when some of his brothers opened fire. On one cheek, just under the gnarled tendrils of hair, he could make out a pale puckering of flesh, twiggy and branch shaped, running across her skin and down into the high collar of her shirt, vanishing. A scar.

By the appearance of things, she'd survived for seven years entirely on her own. She communicated with no one when they reached the rooftop. Did she have no one to worry about her, no one to wonder where she disappeared to? Alone, and alive. How had she survived? Was it through compassion, as Ahsoka had, with someone nearby willing to wonder and to defy orders? Was it through luck, as General Kenobi had, being away from the men turning against him, able to slip away and regroup where it was safe? Or was there no one? The thought was sad, and if it were true, her skills incredible.

She stirred slightly, her lips pressing together as she muttered something, brow drawing down sharply. He looked away, uncomfortable, shifting slightly where he sat. Admiring a woman who nearly killed him last night was unwise. The polite little padawan he remembered was likely washed away in the years she'd been on the run. He knew nothing about this Barriss Offee, except that she thought of all clones as murderers.

He'd struggled to keep his brothers alive, as many as he could, for as long as he could, when the Republic became the Empire. As the years passed, there were fewer men he could trust, fewer he could understand. He was surrounded by men who should be his friends and allies, his brothers, his family, and could trust none of them. Their situations were different, but he understood isolation.

Offee began to beep. He lifted his head as she snapped awake, her blaster rising instinctively even as she blinked once and grew alert. She shot him a suspicious look, checking on his position, then picked up the commlink she'd forced him to give her last night. The little red light was now flashing green, and it was making a steady alert noise. "What's happening?" she demanded.

"They're in system, and out of hyperspace," he replied, lowly. "The tracking system is kicking on. Once they hit atmo, they'll get coordinates. We should find somewhere for them to land." He eyed the clear area of the loading dock beyond the row of warehouses meaningfully.

She stood and jerked her head in a motion that suggested he should stand too. Climbing to his feet, he walked forward, and she stepped aside, allowing him to go down the stairs first, presumably to keep her pistol focused on his back. He kept his hands slightly up, where she could see them.

They walked steadily, as daybreak faded into morning. The sky, filled with chemicals, slowly streaked into a lively show of scarlet and orange, overcast with streaks of grey-green fumes from a distant factory. Offee kept them just inside of a nearby storage area, beside a pair of rusted out speeder trucks.

They waited again, another hour passing before they spotted a speck in the sky, slowing and heading towards them. Cody smiled slightly as the shape of the Drake drew more and more distinct, firing thrusters and hovering just above the dock. He glanced at Offee, who only gave him a warning look. He remained silent, waiting. Rex and Ahsoka weren't too trigger happy, so hopefully they'd come out to check on the situation before doing anything reckless.

The Drake landed, kicking up large clouds of dust as it touched down. Moments later, the hatch opened and the boarding ramp descended. Cody breathed out a sigh. A pair of legs came into view, then a second pair, both edging cautiously down the ramp and revealing first Rex, then Ahsoka, both with blasters drawn. One of the laser cannons moved to cover them, and Cody smiled slightly. The two new padawans must be inside minding the weapons.

As Ahsoka emerged more fully into the light, her distinctive striped lekku and montrals clearly marking her, he heard Barriss suck in a startled breath behind him, making a strangely choking sound. He turned, slowly, in case she was still holding the pistol at his back. She wasn't. It hung limply in her hand, at her side, while her other hand, now a fist, was pressed hard against her mouth, teeth biting into a knuckle. She was visibly shaking, and her eyes were swelling with tears.

She probably would shoot him if he moved towards her, even if the intent was to comfort.

He looked away. Unable to console her, it was as much privacy as he could offer. Ahsoka was, it seemed, the first other Jedi she'd seen in years.

"Come on," he said quietly, taking a step away and keeping his eyes diverted. "You might want to put away the blaster though, in case someone mistakes what's happening." Rex and Ahsoka would recognize her. Maera or Rithron, inside the ship, alone, inexperienced, and seeing him held at gunpoint, might react badly. He held his hands up, then pressed them downward, slowly, miming the motion of her putting away her weapon.

She looked at him again, and this time, he returned her gaze. Her lips were slightly parted, and they were trembling. She looked out towards Ahsoka, then back to Cody, took in a sharp breath, and holstered the pistol. Once it was away, he stepped slowly backward, encouraging her to follow him, which she did in a near daze, constantly looking back and forth between the two figures now fully outside the ship and him, as though to reassure herself this was happening.

"Cody!" he heard Rex call sharply, and he turned around. Rex appeared somewhat puzzled, looking between Cody and the dark figure trailing uneasily behind him. Ahsoka, however, already had a hand over her mouth. Then she was flying forward, shooting past Rex, then Cody, nearly launching herself into the air in her attempt to reach her friend.

"Barriss!"

The Mirialan woman was nearly knocked over by the force of Ahsoka's enthusiasm, frozen stiff and unable to move from shock. After a frantic hug, Ahsoka grabbed Barriss by the shoulders and held her back, looking her up and down critically, then flinging her arms around Barriss's neck again, bubbling something indistinguishable and overjoyed.

Barriss moved awkwardly, her hands coming up and tentatively patting Ahsoka's back once. Ahsoka pulled away again, holding Barriss out at arms' length and scrutinizing her more carefully. The bright smile on her face faded a little as she looked longer at the other woman, whose expression was strangely blank. Barriss said, in a tiny, frail voice, "Ahsoka?"

Cody watched Ahsoka change. A moment ago, she was merely Ahsoka Tano, ecstatic to see her friend, long since thought lost. Slowly, she straightened, her shoulders went back, and the tips of her lekku curled up tightly. The Ahsoka who spoke next was the Jedi, all authority and deliberate, soothing calm. "I hope Cody didn't surprise you too much," she said, turning to include Cody and Rex in their circle. Barriss flinched slightly, and Ahsoka smoothly shifted positions, placing herself between Barriss and the two clones, while slipping an arm around her shoulders.

"Come on. There's a lot to talk about." Ahsoka steered an unresisting Barriss towards the ramp of the Drake, casting a look both grateful and worried at the two men as they passed. Rex edged closer to Cody, providing a feeling of solidarity and support; the flinch was enough to show that Barriss was quite terrified of the two of them.

Rex asked him, in a quiet aside, "Are you alright?"

Cody stared after the two women. They paused before entering the ship, Ahsoka looking concernedly at Barriss, who turned slightly back to meet Cody's gaze. She paused, deliberating, then nodded once, slowly and uncertainly, but with a distinct air of gratitude.

She turned quickly away, and Ahsoka guided her further into the ship.

"Yeah," Cody replied. "I'm fine."

Shorter Cody this chapter: Pain. Ow. Pain. Ow. Oh look, Barriss Offee...whoa. XD

While the first two stories focused on Ahsoka, Rex, Echo and Fives, with Cody coming in for the second, This is Not Our Fate will be focusing primarily on Barriss, though the others will still definitely be around (particularly Cody and Ahsoka). It is, technically, AU. Canon-wise, Barriss was a victim of Order 66. I predominantly use the Clone Wars series and the movies as my canon base, and Barriss' death was not shown. I've borrowed elements from the comics, but I'm using them more as a broad set of guidelines rather than a strict canon, especially since the Clone Wars series seems to be AU from the comics anyway.

More about Barriss' survival next chapter. As usual for this series of fics, beware my leaps and jumps in time!

Welcome to a new story!

~Queen