This is my first fan-fiction, Please don't be harsh.
Chapter One- Hopes and Dreams
Bored.
Bored.
Bored.
Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored!
Ahsoka ambled around the hanger, bored out of her mind. With her master off doing who knows what, Bariss on a mission and a grumpy Rex sleeping in his bunk, Ahsoka had nothing to do. Granted, she could study, or practice, or doing something Jedi-ish, but she wasn't really in the mood. So she found herself in the hanger of The Resolute, staring up at silver ceiling as she lazily wandered around the abandoned ship. Well, not quite abandoned. There were the Gunships, lined neatly and orderly, their engines and weapons turned off. It felt strange to be here, like walking around in a den of sleeping predators. She half expected one of the gunships to roar with life and startle her half to death, but none of them did.
She swung up onto the hull of one, and sat down, staring down at everything below.
Bored.
Bored.
Bored!
Then she saw him...
A clone, sitting on his alabaster helmet, doing something. Ahsoka cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. What was he doing? She thought, curious. Ahsoka looked closer and closer and closer. Wait a minute... was he... painting?
Ahsoka force leaped down and walked over to where he sat, spraying something onto the hull of a mighty gunship. Yup, he was definitely painting. She stepped closer, staring at his art, and fought the urge to gasp. It... It was beautiful. A dappled blue sky and soft emerald grass, specked with the buttery gold of far-away dandelions greeted her startled eyes. Buttermilk clouds peeked over the calm green of ripe apple trees, crimson fruit dotting the vivid leaves like drops of blood. And next to that tree...
The pearly white surface of a clone's helmet.
It was Peaceful.
Happy.
A meadow in full bloom, A place without war.
He had turned a gunship, a flying weapon, into art.
Ahsoka took in a breath, and the clone turned around, surprised. "It... It's amazing." She choked out.
His eyes softened, and he turned back to his work. "It is something, isn't it."
She nodded, realized he could not see her, and instead muttered a quiet "Yes."
But even if she had said yes louder, she doubted he could have still heard her, for the clone now was staring off into somewhere deep inside of him. "It's what life will be like when the war is over. When we wont have to fight, to kill anymore." He laughed nervously and wrung his hands, realizing that he was had spaced out. "I guess you could call it my dream, or hope. Whatever you prefer."
Ahsoka just stared in complete wonder at the scene before it, afraid that just the merest breath would disturb the carefully applied paints on the cool metal.
Taking a deep breath, CT-2865 picked up the spray can and started painting again.
Ahsoka crept away from the clone, lost in thought.
Clone CT-2865 died three rotations later, after being ambushed on the ground by General Grievous.
But his painting, his hopes and dreams, flew on till the end of the clone wars.