Author's Note: Hello all! Welcome to Sienna and Blue. This is a project I've been working on for a bit, and I thought it might be fun to finally get it out there. This will be a string of stories taking place both during and after the timeline of Clone Wars. Most chapters will focus on Ahsoka and Rex, but some will focus on other characters. It should be updated weekly, unless otherwise noted. So sit back and enjoy!

Chapter 1: Clone in the Kitchen

It was day three of Rex's medical leave, and somehow Ahsoka had found him.

Okay, he hadn't been hiding exactly. But he needed some peace and quiet, and somehow she had found him. Though where else did he really go during the daytime while the rest of Torrent Company was off on some hells-forsaken-planet in the Outer Rim without him except the rec room? Which, of course, he wasn't even supposed to be in as he had torn his knee the week prior bumbling over a rock. Kriffin' rock. Kriffin' planet. And now Ahsoka was looking down her bubbly nose at him, hands on her hips, blue eyes trailing from his leg in a rigid cast to the weights in his hands with that "You shouldn't be doing that, and you know it" look.

"I'm not working my leg, kid," Rex said, grunting as he set the weights down at the floor of the bench. "Kix said to stay off it, and I am."

"Kix said to not exert yourself," Ahsoka countered smartly, "which you are clearly not doing, Captain."

Damn. So she had overhead their medic as they evac'd. He mulled over the smart retorts in his mind, but settled instead for the peaceable solution. She was his CO after all.

"Is the General visiting the GAR?"

Ahsoka's lips puckered like she'd taken a bite of soursop fruit, and she sighed dramatically with a roll of her eyes. "No. He's off at some special all-day meeting with Tarkin and the Chancellor. I haven't a clue what they could talk about for so long though. I guess saving Tarkin's life wasn't enough to warrant a dinner invitation, but he probably sensed I would turn it down anyway, the sleemo."

While Rex would normally say something about her mouthing off against a high-ranking officer, he had worse things to say about the man and the hypocrisy was not lost on him. Instead, he took a moment to scan her, noticing she had come in her normal burgundy top instead of workout clothes. So she wouldn't be joining him in lifting weights.

"I'm surprised you're not at the Jedi Temple doing some training."

"I tried that, too," she said, her pout stuck on her face. "But the Temple is so… so…" She grappled a sufficient word. "Stuffy."

"Stuffy?" Rex asked, brows lifted. That's something he would have said under his breath.

Ahsoka's lek curled with irritation. "You have no idea. Everyone's so caught up in the war that you can't find a free room to practice or meditate or sit even. It's just war meetings here and war councils there and admirals and generals and… and… "

She folded her arms so tightly it looked painful and said in a quiet voice, "It's just… not the same as it was. And it's so tense I can't concentrate there. So I tried to see if Barriss was around, but she's with Master Luminara on Geonosis again. I even comm'd Padme—and she's in Senate meetings for the week! She invited me to stay at her apartment during the day and said that she'd be back tonight, but it's just no fun being alone. And that's when I remembered that even though the 501stst is away, you were on med leave—"

A rueful smile curled onto Rex's face. He was wondering how he would fit into the story.

"So I thought maybe you'd want to join me at her apartment for the day," Ahsoka finished explaining, her voice bright as she looked at him expectantly.

He coughed, embarrassed. The idea of skin-crawling discomfort of being surrounded by luxuries rustled in the back of his mind. "I don't know, kid. The Senator didn't exactly invite me."

"She knows you. Of course you're welcome there," said the Togruta happily.

He tried a different tactic. "It wouldn't exactly be proper for us to be alone together."

White marking raised, Ahsoka gestured to the rec room completely devoid of any life forms. Her voice echoed slightly along the high walls. "Rex, we're always alone together. I don't think being here or there will really matter. Besides, we could make dinner, a real dinner."

There were plenty of arguments he had against this. They were always alone together, but technically it was always with other people nearby, whether it was on the Resolute, the Outer Rim, or even the GAR rec room. But being in an apartment, alone, together, was different. It could be seen as indecent, breaking orders. And image of the irate face of General Skywalker, shocked at the betrayal and ready to slash him through with his lightsaber, popped into Rex's head, and he cringed inwardly. He wasn't planning on doing anything indecent—Ahsoka was just sixteen and he was a twenty-two and the captain of the 501st—but he didn't want to even nudge the line of insinuation. He'd made a conscious effort to never enter her small room on the Resolute when she was there alone, though—he realized with a surprising start—she had been in his room. Multiple times. Alone. Together. How had he gotten so lax on rules?

But then again, if there was dinner involved…

"I would be honored to accompany you, Commander," he said, grinning beside himself as her face lit with the widest smile he'd ever seen. Curse his stomach.

He hooked his belt and decees back on his waist, gathered up his crutches, and shakily hopped to one foot, the other raised just enough to not bang on the floor. Though he was ungainly, at least he was mobile.

"Great! I'll comm a cab," she exclaimed as she walked slow enough to keep pace with his awkward hop-skipping. While Rex would have normally disagreed, he was thankful for the offer. His injury wasn't severe enough for a trip to the bacta tank, but even with heavy painkillers to take the edge off the pain, he was sore and a walk to the Senate district might have been the end of the famous Captain Rex.

Thankfully, because of the cab, it was a mostly painless and quick trip to the building, made more peaceful with a surprisingly quiet Ahsoka, the Togruta's orange knees jittering as she stared out the window as they flew closer to the landing pad on the balcony. As the cab landed, Ahsoka popped out like a blaster shot, paying the cabbie with lightning speed and then zipping over to the balcony door to punch in the security code, all this done in the time it took Rex to shimmy awkwardly out of the speeder and regain his balance on his crutches. At her gesturing, he hopped forward and entered the quiet apartment.

It was just as fancy, clean, and spacious as he guessed it would be, but he wasn't prepared for how uncomfortable he would feel stepping onto the polished floor. The thick windows blocked all sound of the busy city-planet surrounding them, and the crèmes and whites of the thick, stone pillars and draping curtains stretched the room, dwarfing them both. Rex winced self-consciously as the crutches clicked on the stone floor, and the idea of just turning the hell around and hobbling out grew stronger in his mind as he realized he hadn't changed out of his workout clothes. Briefly visiting a senator's luxurious home while on the job was one thing; trying to relax in it on med leave was another.

"Threepio! Hey, Threepio!"

When the posh voice of the droid failed to answer, Ahsoka shrugged and walked farther into the apartment. "I guess he's running an errand for Padme. Looks like it really will be just us."

Cautiously, Rex followed his commander into a second room full of curved, gray couches. Ahsoka stacked her boots in a neat pile and flopped down onto one of the seats, snatching up a square remote and hitting one of the buttons. A screen rose up in the middle of the floor and the holonews popped on.

"Fruit prices rising! Fruit sellers are hit hard by the war as—"

"Ugh, anything but the holonews," groaned Ahsoka to herself, and she switched through channels at lightning speed, finally landing on a bolo-ball match: Malastare Bounty Hunters, versus the Corellian Blizmen.

She watched the match in silence, but after a few minutes Rex noticed she kept tapping her fingers on her knee and her gaze was unfocused as if her mind was parsecs away. From his spot behind the couch, he glanced out the windows to where the enormous Jedi Temple sat, its smooth grey walls and five towers breaking up the monotony of the city-planet. From here it looked unnatural and ancient, almost like it had grown right out of the ground in the middle of the city a million years ago and decided to stay. He'd never known the Temple before the war—hell, he hadn't known anything but the white walls of Tipoca City before he was decanted—but he could imagine the reverse of Ahsoka's situation. If one day he was sent back to Kamino and the clones were picking flowers and being flash-trained on agriculture, it wouldn't feel like home.

"Rex, you are allowed to relax."

Rex felt a hot flush creeping up the back of his neck as Ahsoka interrupted his thoughts. Kneeling on the seat and staring over the back of the couch at him, she seemed torn between concern and laughter.

He shrugged. She could reveal what was bothering her at her own pace.

"I shouldn't, sir. I saw how easy it was for you to get in. That means it's just as easy for an intruder. The Senator should have better security for a place this inconspicuous."

Shaking her head, Ahsoka gave in to laughter. "I think we're pretty safe here. I mean, Padme has had only one non-successful attack on the apartment recently, and that was before they upped her security. And if there was an intruder, they'd have us to deal with. Though," she scrutinized his cast and side-arms, "have you tried shooting while on crutches?"

"I'm a decent shot," he said, a bit of pride creeping into his voice. Practicing with his decees was the first thing he had done after being released from the med bay. Thankfully, his balance wasn't so bad that he couldn't stand on one foot and aim, though it did limit his mobility. "I can take out the Seppies no matter the circumstances."

"You never cease to amaze, Captain," Ahsoka said. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. With a happy sound, she popped to her feet. "Maybe some dinner will persuade you to sit down. Hungry?"

He followed her into yet another adjoining room and paused in the doorway, his insides shrinking. The kitchen was gigantic, at least half the size of the fantastic grey seating area, and had dozens of devices that looked more suited for torture than he could have imagined, and he'd seen quite a few of those. The walls and many cabinets were a pale pink (completely un-utilitarian), the floor a swirling black and white (dizzying), and there, dancing lightly on her feet as she scanned the contents of a Wookiee-sized black cooler, BUN-E droids crowding around, was Ahsoka, her sienna skin standing out like a sore thumb.

He was completely out of his element. Maybe he could suggest they take a ration bag of fancy, Senator grub each and return to the utilitarian, clone-infested GAR headquarters.

"Do you feel like anything specific?" came Ahsoka's slightly muffled voice.

"Something protein based." He hopped up behind her, ready to propose his getaway plan, and his jaw nearly dropped.

The cooler was stuffed to the brim with food, real food. Raw nerf steaks; whole nunas; many-legged, scaled creatures; roots in purple, red, and orange; ripe fruits, leafy blue and green things, and shining bottles full of labels and what looked like multi-colored gels—he'd never actually seen a civvie cooler before. He was used to the usual dehydrated ration packs and bars. Even on Saleucami, Cut had gone outside to grab one of the nunas pecking around the house since his family didn't have a cooler. This was like something out of a daydream.

His stomach grumbled like a stupid rancor, and a hot prickle rose up his ears as Ahsoka giggled. Kriffin' high metabolism.

"It's a beautiful sight after rations and dehydrated roots," Ahsoka said. The smile lingered on her face, but her gaze again seemed distant, her white markings lowering in reflection. "If we could eat like this every day, no ration bars, no rehydrated dinners in a bag..."

"If we did, you'd have a bunch of fat clones waddling around like Orn Free Taa," finished the Captain.

Ahsoka half-consciously pushed away a BUN-E prodding her thigh. "That would be quite the sight. But..."

But he knew what she meant. And he knew what was bothering her, and it was something he didn't let himself dwell on because he didn't want to see where that thinking led him. Not yet. Not when he had brothers to take care of. But he still knew. That was the thing about being alone, together, so often. She was becoming familiar.

"So Rex," Ahsoka waved her hand towards the door, "if you want to escape, here's your chance."

He gave her a dark look. Or she just knew his thoughts so well because she was a Jedi.

"It was written all over your face," she said quickly, but her lekku shone brighter than usual and she hid her face behind the door of the cooler. "But since we're here, we might as well stay. And if we're going to eat, let's make this a special occasion."

Ahsoka worked around the BUN-E droids and stuffed her arms with a package of nerf steaks, purple roots, and a muja fruit. "We'll do the cooking this time, BUN-E's. But if you want to help, find me the large pot and a knife, the tiny one for tubers."

About five Bun-E's chirped, "Yes, Mistress," and scattered, the rest lingering as those five drug out the items and tossing them onto a counter by the heating element. Ahsoka and Rex followed, piling the items in her arms beside the pot.

"What's our plan of attack, Commander?" Rex asked, watching Ahsoka unwrap the steaks and practically slather them in a white, chunky substance, the scent reminding him of the ocean.

Ahsoka flicked her hand and a durasteel bowl from on top of the cabinets floated into it, which she set in front of Rex. "I know you have a sweet tooth, so I was thinking you might want to handle the chocolate cake."

"Chocolate?"

With another wave, a holopad from another cabinet fluttered into her hands, and she did a quick search before handing it to him. An article—no, a recipe—titled "Chocolate Cake" was displayed.

"It's kinda like caff, except sweeter," she said. "I think you'll like it. Padme had some leftover after a Senatorial dinner when I came to visit once, and I got to try a bite. It seemed like just your thing. If you can't find anything, the BUN-E's will help."

The BUN-E's practically swarmed his legs, looking up at him with mouths at such an angle he could swear they were trying to smile, murmuring in their high-pitched voices, "Help. Mister. Help. Help." It would be so easy to blow these mini-clankers to bits and walk out the door.

"Up to the challenge, Rex?"

Well, maybe he could get along with these clankers. He turned his gaze to the recipe. Nuna eggs, flour, fine sugar—"Easier than a dropdown on Ryloth, kid."

"It's Ahsoka," she said, drawing the word out. She smiled at him, white markings raised into teasing look. "Two years and you're still calling me that? I'm not a kid anymore, Rex."

Rex stared at her expectant smile, suddenly very aware of how much older she looked when not surrounded by scores of clones or Admiral Yularen or the General. He tried to ignore the flock of BUN-E's around their legs, staring up at them in silence with bright machine eyes. Half of him wanted to call her by her name. It was right at the tip of his tongue. The other half wore plastoid armor and warned him rigidly in a commanding voice that this was the General's Padawan, his CO, he should stick to habit, and it was completely inappropriate. But, then again, he was being lax on rules.

"All right, Ahsoka," he emphasized her name, making the Togruta's dark lips quirk into a grin, and suddenly the kitchen flared up about twenty degrees. "But don't expect it to taste as good as that Senatorial dinner cake. I've never cooked anything but rations in a bag before."

She laughed brightly, waving her hand again. A plastoid board came to a halt in front of her, and she began to chop the purple tubers, fist-sized round roots, into uneven blocks.

"Don't worry. I don't have much experience either. Anakin's cooked me a few dinners when we were sick of the mess hall, but he used these spices and…" Her nose wrinkled from the memory of nuna eggs that had nearly burned her tongue off. "It wasn't a pleasant experience."

With that she focused back on chopping and he turned to the recipe. It was simple. Follow the recipe and he'd have nothing to worry about. It was just like a battle plan, except the ingredients didn't listen to you and no one blew up. But, being on crutches, he'd need a bit of help. Waving over the BUN-E's, he placed the holopad in their pincer-like hands.

"I need all of this," he instructed firmly, then added as an afterthought as his knee spiked painfully. "And a chair."

"Yes, sir!"

The group of BUN-E's tottered off quickly, returning in a flurry of ingredients, equipment, and, five of them teetering awkwardly underneath its weight, a silver chair high enough for him to sit and reach the counter. With a barely concealed wince, he sat down and looked over his array. An earthy smell permeated the room, the hiss of the heating element and some bubbling thing in the large kitchen. To his right, Ahsoka had dumped the purple tubers in the pot and was now haphazardly coating the four nerf steaks in a black powder. She definitely had more experience than she let on. But then again, it couldn't be that hard to do. She wasn't even following a recipe.

So Rex began. He followed the instructions to the letter, sniffing each ingredient experimentally, with the help of the BUN-E's figuring out which measuring devices to use. When he reached the sweetener, though, he put perhaps a bit more than required after taste-testing the white, gritty stuff. Soon he was pouring what looked like a mud-brown mess into a rectangular pan, eyeing the brown sludge gloop down with concern. It had to taste better than it looked, he thought as three BUN-E's placed it in the oven. At least it smelled sweet, though slightly earthy. As long as it didn't taste like the muddy Saleucami ground it resembled, he would be reasonably satisfied. And, as he glanced at the BUN-E's wiping off the counters to a new armor shine, he had grown to decently like his soldiers in arms, even if they were clankers.

He sniffed the air again, and his stomach gave an almighty rumble. Something savory, toothsome, and salty, like the fresh state of dried protein the clones were occasionally given on long missions, stuck to the kitchen. Ahsoka had placed the nerf steaks on the heating element and was watching them closely as they sizzled, juices bubbling along their slightly brown edges. He swallowed hard; his mouth was watering enough to put Kamino to shame.

"They'll be done soon," she said. An odd grin crossed her face as she looked back at him. "It looks like you had quite the adventure."

Puzzled, Rex looked down. His previously regulation spotless white shirt was covered in ingredients, patches of white flour and fine sweetener all along his front smeared globs of batter along his arms. War, like cooking, was not clean.

Shrugging, the clone brushed a hand over his buzzed hair, wincing as he felt the roughness of sweetener on his scalp. "It's the danger of the unknown, sir. I guess you won't get me sitting down today. I don't want to risk replicating this mess in the Senator's apartment."

Ahsoka turned back to the sizzling nerf steaks, and he had the odd suspicion she was rolling her eyes.

One of the BUN-E's gazed up at the clone intently, slowly opening and closing his pincer hands as if deep in thought. And then its eyes literally brightened.

"I will get your resting clothes!" it squeaked, toddling off at a surprisingly fast pace.

Rex returned Ahsoka's baffled look. What in all the worlds…

"Here, I'll go see what it's doing," mumbled Ahsoka, quickly sliding the nerf steaks onto two plates before following the droid out. This left Rex alone—well, alone if you didn't count about seven BUN-E's bobbing about as company—and for some reason he had a bad feeling about this.

It wasn't like there were hidden mines in the kitchen, though—Rex peeked around quickly—it was always good to check. He eyed the steaks dripping juices onto the plates. The Senator's plates. In the Senator's kitchen. In the Senator's apartment. He picked at the batter drying on his arms, his skin prickling. He felt like he was invading the Senator's privacy. And now with the mini-clanker off to find him "resting clothes", whatever the kriff those were, he had no idea what to expect. Maybe the Senator often had a male guest over who, for some reason, kept a change of clothes here and the mini-clankers thought he was that repeated guest. Maybe the male guest was a secret lover. A secret spouse. The image of the General popped into his head for the second time that day, but this time it was a memory of the Jedi smiling down at a recovering Senator Amidala after she was saved from the Blue Shadow Virus. Perhaps he was the one—

Rex jumped as the oven dinged, and the BUN-E's, chirping excitedly to each other, surrounded it, pulling out what looked like a now solidified but more cake-like brown rectangle.

It couldn't be the General, he thought, gathering up the frosting as the BUN-E's slid the cake in front of him. Anakin was a Jedi and Jedi expressly forbid attachments. But then again Anakin wasn't much for following the rules or the Council. And he obviously was attracted to the Senator, and the Senator obviously fancied him. If they did have a secret relationship, which he heavily suspected they did, they were stupidly bad at not mooning over each other in front of the 501st.

But it's none of my business, he thought firmly, and he tried to focus on finishing the cake.

Rex smeared a thick frosting on top of the cake, swirling it into fluid designs with a careful eye, adding as an afterthought two spiky Jaig eyes to the middle. Might as well take pride in his work.

"These look about your size."

He swiveled on his chair, eyebrows shooting up at Ahsoka's appearance. Gone was her usual outfit, and instead she was dressed in soft, flowing black pants and a sleeveless white shirt, her sienna skin and white markings brightened by the colors. They were much richer clothes than he'd ever seen her wear. In her arms was a bundle which Rex suspected was the "resting clothes".

"Padme got these for me," she said, seeing his expression, her blue stripes darkening slightly. "I've stayed here a few times and she thought I needed something besides my everyday stuff to sleep in. It's kind of a weird civvie thing to have more than one pair of clothes. BUN-E insisted you have these, and they look about your size…"

She flumped the bundle around his shoulders so that it wouldn't fall off, and an awkward silence hung in the air, and he was sure she was thinking along the same line as he had a few minutes ago.

"I'll be a minute," he grunted. Straightening up and gathering his crutches, Rex hopped off to change. At least changing would take his mind off things. Casts were damn near impossible to dress with sometimes.

"This is something else, Rex," the Togruta sighed and practically inhaled another piece of cake. He would have answered, but he thought it impolite to speak with his mouth stuffed with the best damn food he'd ever eaten. Unlike some of his brothers, he had table manners.

He shifted the plate on his lap piled with mashed tubers (now being shoveled into his mouth), a nerf steak (he'd already devoured one) and tried not to let his feet touch the soft carpet too much. Somehow Ahsoka had gotten him on the couch. Maybe because he'd come out of the 'fresher with the pant legs several inches too long and he was afraid he'd trip over them and extend his med leave and so made a beeline for the closest seat possible, or maybe because Ahsoka, laughing at the sight of him with too long pants, had set all the food on the table by the couch, or maybe because she had forced the BUN-E's to stay in the kitchen and if they moved in that direction the mini-clankers would come flocking to them. Either way, here they were, seated beside each other on the curved gray couch eating a perfect dinner.

Maybe the cake was a bit gooey and overly sweet. And maybe the steaks were a bit salty. But then again it was hard to tell when you were raised on ration bars, the most bland substance in the galaxy, and anything besides them was a taste-overload.

But this was just… he glanced at Ahsoka seated cross-legged, chewing with her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy… kind of weird. In a good, slightly (very) uncomfortable way.

He curled his toes away from the strange softness of the carpet, intensely aware of wearing another man's clothes while eating someone else's food in the Senator's apartment suite. He'd never owned… anything. Technically, he didn't even own his armor. There were a few keepsakes tucked away in a drawer beside his bunk from different planets, mostly things to remember his brothers by, but they amounted to practically nothing. And to have all this...

Distractedly, he rubbed the pant leg material between his fingers before flinching his hand away. Was this what civilian life was like, at least life for those few rich enough to own the top floor of a tower? He couldn't imagine a life without his brothers—well, more like without seven of them hanging around him at every moment of the day—or without sleeping on the ground in flimsy tents or in bunks with regulation bedding and fighting in the war, mostly because that's what his life had always been, what he'd been created for. But he wondered if he wasn't a soldier, what would he be? He laughed inwardly at the idea of being a senator. A life of deliberation and negotiation instead of war. Meetings every day and making enemies with legislation. A life of pens instead of blasters. A life of comfort. Maybe even of family.

"I wonder sometimes, too," Ahsoka interrupted quietly.

Rex looked up at the Toguta gazing out the window to the Jedi Temple, now illuminated against the semi-dark sky. Night had fallen, and the bright neon reds and yellows of the city lights outside reflected in her eyes.

"I've thought about it sometimes. Maybe I could have my own home." She spoke cautiously, haltingly, as if she wasn't sure the words should be spoken. "Nothing fancy like this, but something with a bed and a kitchen and my own room. And I could choose any job I want. Maybe I'd be a bodyguard. Or a performer in one of those plays in the Entertainment District. Maybe I'd live on some backwater planet and be a mechanic in some dingy shop and be covered in oil and grease. Every day I'd wake up and look outside, and the war would just be this far off thing in some other system."

She sighed, turning her gaze on her plate. "It's dangerous to think like that, Rex. Jedi are supposed to be free from attachment and jealousy, and material possessions are frowned upon. Master Yoda says the Jedi Code is the way to peace and enlightenment. I'm trying to do the right thing. I know I'm doing the right thing. But sometimes," she stabbed her nerf steak violently, "it just seems wrong."

He watched her chew in silence, not quite sure what to say and not quite sure what "it" fully encompassed. The Jedi Order meant everything to her. He'd known it since the day she marched off the shuttle on Christophsis and practically leapt into battle. But here she was doubting it…

"You think the Jedi Code is wrong?" he asked.

Ahsoka chewed thoughtfully for a minute. "Well, maybe wrong isn't the right word. Sometimes it seems too simple. Way too simple. I mean, the Jedi Masters always say only Sith deal in absolutes, but that's all the Jedi do. This is good. This is bad. No exceptions. Except it seems like there are exceptions, and nobody wants to look at them." She rolled her eyes, setting her empty plate on the table beside them. "I don't know. I think I've been influenced by my Master too much. He doesn't always go by the Jedi Code and maybe that's rubbed off on me. Maybe it means I'm a bad Jedi."

"You've risked your life countless times for my men. In my book, that makes you one of the best Jedi I know," Rex said sternly. And he meant it. "Besides, you've saved my shebs more times than I can count."

A small smile lit her face. "One of the best Jedi you know, huh?"

"I'd say the best, but I'm afraid the General might fly in here and massacre me if he heard it."

This time she laughed outright, and he couldn't help but grin at the sound, at the sight of her less troubled. They both turned at sudden movement from the kitchen.

Two of the BUN-E's had escaped their confines and trundled up beside them, dropping off about six cups full of a myriad of colored drinks, candles, and a bowl of fruit.

"Drinks for the Mistress and Mister," they squeaked and bounced back into the kitchen. Rex could swear behind the door he could hear the mini-clankers chirping and celebrating their secret serving attack.

Shrugging, Ahsoka reached for a round glass full of burgundy liquid and swirled it around. "That was sure nice of them. If I weren't so stuffed, I'd eat all that fruit myself."

Grunting in assent, Rex picked up a glass of the same drink and sipped it tentatively. Nectarwine. Not his first choice and too sweet for his tastes, but he couldn't complain. Except that Ahsoka was taking her first sip of it. She was technically of age on Coruscant, but she'd never drunk anything alcoholic (to his knowledge), and this was hardly the time for a first drink.

"Ahsoka, wait—"

"Threepio, would you get the door?"

Rex and Ahsoka froze in horror at the sound of all-too familiar male voice outside the door, the clone's hand raised halfway to stop her drinking and the Togruta with the glass stuck at her lips, and he was sure he had the same wide-eyed, gritted-teeth expression as the padawan. What was Anakin doing here at this hour?

"I think I'd fallen asleep about six times before you rescued me."

A soft, female voice replied. "Well, it's a good thing I'm a senator, or I couldn't rescue you so often."

"I'm eternally grateful, Milady."

"Grateful enough to make the caff tonight?"

"I'd grow the pods myself if I could."

There was a quiet pause outside, a horrible pause where all the worst things imaginable jumped into Rex's mind and he tried to block out the sound of whispered sweet-nothings. They were still stuck in their absurd, frozen positions. This was almost the worst possible situation to be found in—candles, wine, barely of-age drinking, alone, together, and overhearing a Jedi and Senator's mushy conversation.

But then it fell silent, and the door sprang open a second later as Anakin rushed in, lightsaber lit, the Senator glancing around the doorway with a blaster in hand and C-3PO hiding behind her. Anakin's intense gaze landed on the scene and his expression morphed from tense to surprised to a smoothed-over guilt almost faster than the eye could follow.

"Ahsoka? Rex? What are you doing here?" Anakin spluttered out.

"Ahsoka?" Padme entered the room cautiously, and then her mouth fell open in recognition. "I'm so sorry. With everything going on today, I'd forgotten I invited you."

Anakin glanced at the Senator and then to the array in front of his padawan, not quite concealing his blanch at seeing Rex's clothes. If Rex could disintegrate on the spot, he would like nothing more at the minute.

"What—" the General began.

"Dinner. We had dinner," Ahsoka said, her montrals turning charcoal gray. She thumped the glass down, nearly sending wine all over, and stood up quickly. "And now we're leaving."

Rex jumped to one foot, fumbling with his crutches. He gave the sloppiest salute of his life to Anakin and then Senator Amidala and promptly hop-skipped his way out behind the Togruta. "Evening, General. Senator. Protocol droid."

And they left the trio, Anakin still with his lightsaber lit, standing in mild shock in the apartment.

Everything was a whirling buzz in Rex's ears as they made their way to the lifts. Of all the situations to find himself in. And now his suspicions about the General and Senator were all but confirmed in writing. He glanced at Ahsoka who practically stomped down the hall, fists clenched, and wearing an expression usually reserved for battle.

They remained silent all the way to the lifts, Ahsoka punching the button for the bottom floor hard enough to dent the plastoid.

Finally, around halfway down, Ahsoka slammed a fist on the pause and stared at the wall. If looks could bore through walls, the maintenance droids would be replacing everything on the thirty-sixth floor.

"Well… I guess we know the big secret now," she grumbled. "I always guessed it, but I never really thought… I thought he just fancied her."

"It seems obvious now, doesn't it?" he remarked.

Huffing out a sigh, Ahsoka leaned back against the wall, arms folded tightly over her chest. "Really obvious." She sounded partly in shock and partly hurt. And it had to hurt. He was her master, and he'd kept the biggest secret of the galaxy from her; and it would have to stay a secret. Rex could see her mind whirling quickly from thought to thought, and the realization hit him of what this would mean to the Council. Something akin to horror shone in her eyes.

He respected the Jedi. He'd pledged his life to serve them, after all. But it didn't make a flying kriff of difference to him who Anakin slept with.

"I know the GAR is a gossip hive," Rex said quickly, and Ahsoka's gaze flickered to his face, "but if my men don't know about the General and the Senator by now, I won't be telling them."

"Thanks, Rex."

Her expression lifted somewhat, or at least she didn't look like she was out for blood anymore, but there was still some hurt left. Quietly, she pressed the button for down again, and their lift quivered back to life.

"He's a good man," she said at last. "I know my Master has his troubled spots, but he cares about people. Even if the Jedi Council doesn't agree with him—and he sure doesn't agree with the Council all the time—he's doing what he thinks is best. So I won't tell the Council. But… I need to think about this."

She glanced at Rex, and then her mouth fell open in horror. "Our clothes are back in the apartment."

"Ah."

Another second of wide-eyed dread remained, and then her face scrunched up in laughter.

Bemused, he shook his head. Maybe a sip had been too much wine for her. "I don't know what's so funny about the situation."

"Everything!" she giggled, holding her sides. "And nothing. Oh Force, it's just so stupid, all of this. Can you imagine what he was thinking when he saw us?"

Her laughter was contagious. Unable to stop it, Rex gave her a lopsided grin. "He looked about ready to behead us both."

"I think he would have if we stayed any longer."

"Except he looked more shocked than we did."

"I'd almost say he was." Ahsoka grinned. "But I guess he didn't kill us today. The Jedi Code is still the rule, my Master is still breaking it, and life goes on." The lift slowed to a halt and Ahsoka blew out a sigh as she stepped out on the tenth level, the clone following slowly. "Come on, Rex. I'll comm. us a cab."

Shivering slightly next to each other on the landing pad, Rex felt more relieved than he had all night now that they were in a familiar environment. Chill, slightly humid air thick with pollution, a duracrete parking zone, the GAR bunks ahead with no frills, no stone, and no extra cushioning—everything was going back to normal. But for a moment—he glanced at Ahsoka standing straight-backed and thoughtful at his side—it had been nice. Something in their night, not the apartment or the food exactly—though the food had been fekkin' good—made him long for something more, something that he couldn't have. It wasn't enough exactly. It would never be enough in his short lifetime, however long that lasted, but it was a bright moment he knew his mind would drift to often.

A bright gleam of headlights grew closer to their position, signaling the cab. Their night was growing to an end.

"Ahsoka," he muttered under his breath, nudging her slightly.

"Hmm?"

"You have nothing to worry about, wondering if you're a bad Jedi or not."

Lips puckered, Ahsoka raised a white marking at him. "Yeah?"

"As long as you're not having secret trysts with senators, I don't think the Jedi Council will kick you out."

"Rex!"

The smack on the arm was worth it, though he wasn't sure if the way his whole arm tingled was from the bruise-inducing punch or just from contact with her cool skin.