A/N: I'm unreasonably scared that Filoni won't deliver a reunion on Monday night, so I've scribbled my version down fast. Originally on tumblr, posted here for posterity. Heavily inspired by those Topps cards and Tolkien, because we can be as weird as we want now.

"That isn't the way to Lothal."

Rex declined to even look up from the Ghost's navicomputer.

"Pit stop," he said, punching it, the jump forcing Kallus back into the co-pilot's seat.

"What? We literally just left. Where"—Kallus squirmed forward again to get a better look at the inputted coordinates—"where are we going?"

"Malachor."

"What." And there was that Imperial habit of making a word sound like a bite.

"You heard me," Rex said, leaning back comfortably in the pilot's chair to rest his boot on his knee and crossing his hands behind a new wonky donut helmet he'd thus far refused to take off.

Kallus let out a strained laugh. "That is not only not a pit stop, it sits right above Moraband and Mustafar on ISB's restricted systems list … where Inquisitors go to die."

"Got a message from Bridger. He thinks someone needs a lift."

"Who?"

With a slow swivel of his seat, Rex asked, "The name 'Fulcrum' mean anything to you?"

"Of course. It's me."

"No," Rex barked in return, shoving a finger at Kallus. "You and that Seppie kid only inherited it. The Fulcrum is waiting for us on Malachor. And we're going to collect her."

Bridger's coordinates were good, in the sense that they brought the Ghost directly upon the one discernable landmark on this featureless dustball: a great gaping maw of collapsed earth filled with ancient dark-sidey ruins like so many kicked-in teeth.

The veteran stood with his hands on his hips as he mulled over various ways to navigate this terrain, while the agent looked out over the chasm of charred chaos and hoped the Fulcrum would make her appearance before his colleague decided upon something nunabrained.

"Why in stars' end did the Rebellion send an agent here?" Kallus asked at last.

"They didn't. It was Jedi business. Still classified, to my knowledge," Rex said, turning back towards the Ghost, pausing on the ramp, "but I can tell you three went in … and only two came out."

"And we're here for the third."

"Yup."

"... who we're sure is somehow still alive?"

"Yup," said Rex, waving Kallus to join him. "Like I said, Jedi business. Now come on, I think there's a patch of ground near the central temple that'll take the Ghost."

"Maybe you should add a range-finder to your donut."

Rex scowled and waited for Kallus to round out his mockery with an obligatory "old man," but it never came. So he sealed the ramp with a smile, knowing full well who'd have the last laugh when the Commander strode out and kissed the war relic in the funny hat.

"What makes you think she'll be down there?"

Rex was sporting two deecee-seventeens—it let him pretend they were walking into some Separatist base and not a forsaken Sith shrine—and he gestured expansively with them. "You see anyone up here? Besides she … had a habit of getting into trouble."

"Which we're about to walk right into, armed with nothing but two blasters and a fool's hope. How have you survived this long?"

Rex peered into the triangular doorway. "With Jedi at my front and brothers at my back," he said under his breath, like it was some incantation that could lift the choking darkness, before looking studiously across at Kallus. "I like our odds. Follow me."

Kallus followed alright. Rex needed him to beam their sole flashlight over his shoulder as they creeped down the musty tunnel, but you couldn't slice a sabacc card between him and the back of the vigilant trooper. He'd done a lot of barvy shit for the Rebellion so far, and the insanity of it all was slowly stripping his methodical grain like so much sandpaper, but this was really chewing the lunaweed.

Time and space seemed to warp the further they descended and even Rex was beginning to make peace with the idea that he might just die down here in the galaxy's most morbid joke ("a renegade clone, a spooked Imp, and a fugitive Jedi walk into a Sith temple…") when something small and frantic flew into their light and knocked it out of Kallus's hand.

Who knew if either or both of them screamed as the metal tube clattered to the ground, but it was the first sign of life they'd encountered on this rock and when Rex managed to shove Kallus off his back and retrieve the light, they found not some ghoulish mynock or undead hawkbat hovering before them, but a roundish green bird. It tootled and danced at them, as if in greeting, before turning tail and sailing deeper into the gloom, casting a glow of its own along the scored walls.

"Atollon," Rex said, as if that explained everything and broke into a run to follow it. Kallus felt that luminescent avians at least seemed in the Jedi spirit, so he wasn't too far behind.

When the faint yellow of the bird and the beam gave way to a haze of insidious red, however, his pace faltered.

"Rex!" he bellowed as he lost the clone to the shroud of blood.

At some point Rex had noticed that he'd left Kallus eating ion and that the pounding of his boots against stone had given way to the splashing of limbs through … something. But the familiar warbles ahead of him called him onward. He choked on fusty air and the smell of worse as he compelled himself to press through a mire that should have drowned the bird and was close to drowning him.

Jedi business, indeed.

But if this was weird, he'd survived weirder.

And Rex knew that bird. He'd seen it in dreams, both the waking and the feverish—the difference between the glorious gloaming of Atollon and the hot unrest of Yavin.

This too felt like a dream, this copper tang on his tongue, the pounding in his ears, this endless battle against an overwhelming tide. These were the dreams of Teth, of Umbara, of Mandalore, and from somewhere below the sounds of the bird and his own furious splashing that he hoped was moving him forward and not deeper, haunting voices bubbled up from a lifetime ago. The voices of Rex's brothers calling out for him as they bled out on the field—of Fives pleading for reason—of Kix shouting for bandages—of Echo begging forgiveness—of Cody demanding that he keep his treason to himself—

"CODY!"

The cry burst from him and he was surprised when the name of his lost brother echoed back.

Rex blinked his eyes open and found himself a starless space, no longer flailing but walking up a submerged glacis.

On either side of him stood … troopers, plated and painted in every color of the GAR. They glowed faintly like the bird, who swooped over his head in acknowledgement before its light was overtaken by that of even brighter figure standing at the shore, illuminating the cavern and the dark red pool before him.

"It may please you to know that Cody isn't here," came the voice from the light. It twinkled like Ahsoka's but possessed an ancient edge, like she had one foot in this mortal plane and the other in some timeless world beyond.

No matter how furiously Rex blinked in her direction under a shielding hand, she was too fair and brilliant to look upon, but he caught a flash of regimental blue, a hint of sunset, a wisp of white.

"And should I be pleased to find you here, Ahsoka?" he replied, with no small amount of trepidation as he ascended towards her. Ezra had just said she was probably stranded not … in some bizarre communion with the dead.

A sparkling laugh and the figure stepped forward into the pool, dimming into recognizable form as she approached.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" Ahsoka asked with a teasing smile. She was thin, her lekku lank and her eyes hollow—prolonged exposure to the underworld could do that to a person—but she was solid, as tangible as that day she boarded the Phantom, when her warm fingers and a promise to return had trailed from Rex's grasp.

Moving without thought, Rex splashed forward and threw his big arms around her waist, spinning her into a hug that sent her peals of laughter cascading into every unseen corner of the cavern.

He let her slide down his front and she gathered his bearded face in her palms. "Always," was his soft answer, squeezed out between his lips and hers.

A thousand questions and more queued on Rex's tongue before he pulled back to voice to any of them. "Have … have you really been here all this time? What is this place? What happened? And why are my brothers here?"

Ahsoka's eyes drifted far away, looking behind an unseen veil, and she chewed her lip, mulling over her answer. "I came here seeking knowledge … and I found some." What passed for despair ghosted across her radiant face before she glanced at Rex again. "More to the point, I promised Ezra I would meet him again … but that was a promise I made to you first. And I wanted to be here to pull you out—when the time came."

She waved over his shoulder and Rex turned around, back in the direction he'd come. It was not a pool they stood in but some river of dark alchemy that snaked into shadow far beyond. On its banks, spectral troopers closed ranks around the pair, joined by troopers along the cragged walls until the entire cavern was outlined in all its enormity by the gleaming white plastoid of uncountable soldiers. Not on the landing strips of Coruscant, not in the great halls of Kamino had Rex ever seen such a multitude.

"Since I came back—" Ahsoka began.

"Came back?"

She waved away that inquiring line of thought. "Since I came back, I've been pulling them out of the mire. One by one. Millions of them. They sound off, names and numbers—sometimes just numbers, the shiny ones—and but they never speak again. At one point the screaming ceased and I thought I'd removed everyone … but they still come now and then, old and weathered."

The troopers pressed in around them so tightly now that Rex was almost alarmed.

"The Force has been with me in this place," she continued reassuringly, smiling at the bird as it landed on her outstretched arm, "without Morai … and without Ezra, I'm not sure what might have happened. But for the men, it's like … an eternal prison. I don't know what they're waiting for—"

"We were waiting for the Good Captain," came a voice from the throng.

Brothers parted as a strapping ARC with a blue eel on his helmet and two jaunty pauldrons and that swaying kama he never ironed strolled to stand before Rex.

"Your orders, sir?" saluted a luminous Fives.

Rex stood in stunned silence for a moment before making to embrace his friend, but Ahsoka grabbed his shoulder. "Don't—he's … they're apparitions but they still burn. Remember, this is a dark place and they aren't at peace."

So Rex just saluted in turn, blinking back tears. "You said Cody isn't here?"

Ahsoka shook her head, saying nothing more, unsure whether he'd regard the other notable no-shows as troubling or inspiring.

"Well, I guess that means I really am in charge. And I have a rogue commander to find." Rex cracked his knuckles and spun a hand in the air, a universal gesture. "Move out men."

Ahsoka smiled and ignited her brilliant sabers to dip them in the stream and the dark red receded at her feet. Rex fell in behind her and the Grand Army of the Republic fell in behind him.

"With Jedi at my front and brothers at my back," Rex whispered, hoping they didn't scare the everloving shebs off Kallus.

Beyond the fierce blaze of Ahsoka's sabers, darkness still reigned and if Rex expected to find Kallus waiting for him in the stifling tunnel with no flashlight and little motivation to continue exploring a Sith stronghold, he should've known better.

The agent was sitting in the Ghost with the engines primed and the floodlights on despite the pale haze of what passed for daylight on this planet.

Zeb had assured him once or twice that weird was good when it came to his crew; but Rex hailed from an age teeming with Jedi, and although not Force-sensitive himself, his tolerance for the bizarre was probably more in line with those who were.

So Kallus wouldn't leave—at least not for another rotation—but he was done participating in this unsanctioned "pit stop." And when the menacing entrance to the temple flashed a brilliant white and a Togrutan Jedi strolled out, flanked by Rex and a spectral army of Republic clones, Kallus opted to sit tight and wait out this weirdness too.

Hundreds of troopers drifted out of the temple and into the murky daylight as Rex and Ahsoka watched on, holding hands and silently remarking recognizable markings and colors. The exodus of millions upon millions of ghosts was actually a more speedy affair than might have been supposed, and when the triangular aperture fell dark again, Rex turned to Fives at his shoulder and tried to channel some of his old friend's humor.

"I'm not sure we can all fit on the ship, brother."

The spirit of Fives grasped Rex's shoulder with one tingly, spectral hand. Ahsoka didn't restrain the Captain when he tentatively extended his own hand and … rested it upon the pauldron of his friend one last time.

"The mission is over, sir. Thank you," said Fives before his form, and those of his countless comrades, drifted out of reach and faded into the sky.

Ahsoka, feeling lighter and more hopeful than she had in a very, very long time, squeezed Rex's hand. "I think they're at peace now … and we'll see them again. I'm sure of it."

But some missions were far from over.

The two of them walked towards the Ghost, where Kallus peeked out from the top of the loading ramp he'd only just had the courage to lower.

His new non-regulation hairstyle did nothing to distract Ahsoka—who took a particular interest in human hair patterns—from the dead giveaway that was the strange, unfinished beard of a particularly zealous ISB agent.

"Hey, aren't you—? Rex..." Ahsoka began. She assumed a rather aggressive stance at the bottom of the ramp with her lightsabers poised and ready to ignite. "What is this sleemo doing here?"

"Excuse me?" growled Kallus, more offended by the vulgar Rimmer slang of someone eager to make trouble than the fanged hissing of so many posturing Inquisitors.

"It's alright, Soka," said Rex, waving her up, "he's with us now. Kallus, meet Ahsoka. The Fulcrum."

Kallus extended his hand and Ahsoka gave hers coolly in return … until Morai floated down to settle on the agent's shoulder, nuzzling and pecking at his whiskered jaw.

Rex was actually a bit jealous at that, not that he'd ever admit it.

"I see," said Ahsoka, softening at Morai's enjoyment of Kallus's beard. "So you've been recruiting?"

"Just Zeb."

"Zeb?"

"It was an accident."

"Hey! I figured out the Fulcrum thing myself," said Kallus. "Your intelligence network wasn't exactly foolproof."

"You're telling me," nodded Rex in agreement. "I blame the Seppie kid. Soka's not gone a day before he's using her codename all over the galaxy."

Ahsoka groaned at this tired argument. "Tell me you still have Cassian, Rex."

"Relax, cyar'ika." He made a defensive gesture and closed the ramp. "I haven't done anything to the brat."

"Rex."

"I swear! This outfit was actually his idea—and I gotta admit, I like the hat. Reminds me of Onderon."

The clone wiggled his eyebrows at Ahsoka in such a way that made Kallus wonder when he'd stepped out of the spice hallucination and into some holo-romance. He cleared his throat. "Speaking of recruiting … that was a creepy army. Why didn't you enlist them, Jedi?"

Ahsoka threw Kallus a look that said watch it, but Rex nearly threw a punch.

"Because," he barked, all joviality gone and frightening Morai off Kallus's shoulder, "they've done their duty. They've earned their peace. And I won't earn mine until I've rescued every last brother from your karkin' Empire."

Ahsoka stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Rex's shoulders, eyeing Kallus to keep his mouth shut and giving the veteran a disarming kiss on the cheek. "Then we better go get Wolffe and Gregor, huh?"