I do not own Star Wars.


All right. Everything's all right.

If only that were true.

Edi sat in a meditative position, legs crossed and hands resting on her knees, taking deep breaths that eased air in and out of her lungs. Her knees felt cramped from pressing against the arms of the regrettably small chair that was positioned beside Fib's bed. Sounds from the rest of the medbay were muffled through the privacy curtain that Vern, the on-duty medic, had thoughtfully pulled shut. Fib lay quietly on the bed, arms resting on top of the neat covers pulled over his bandaged torso. His chest moved slowly, rising and falling in perfect sync with Edi's.

Things had quieted down after the initial panic of the attack. All the wounded clones had been moved to the medbay, which was more than large enough to accommodate them all. According to Gear, who had taken over as senior medic when Fib was injured, everyone who was going to die had died. Now all they had to do was see the others to a full recovery. Captain Thorn had left with a strike team and, with help from the Mareeb Security Force, was in the process of searching the area that the base security team had pinpointed as the location the missile had been launched from. He wouldn't be reporting in for two hours at least, so that left Edi with little to do but think.

There was a lot to think about.

A Force-sensitive clone. Now that the adrenaline rush had finally worn off and she was thinking clearly, Edi was having trouble wrapping her mind around the idea.

Intellectually, she knew that it shouldn't have been this much of a surprise. The Force worked in strange ways, which was just a way to say that nobody—not even Jedi—really understood what it was doing. Edi had only the basic knowledge that she'd learned in her classes at the Temple and her own experience to draw on.

The Force wasn't ruled by genes. Just because a parent was Force-sensitive didn't automatically mean that their child would be. It was virtually unheard of for siblings to be Force-sensitive. There were some families that the Force was strong in, but it tended to skip generations, often many at a time. Force-sensitivity could almost be viewed as a rare genetic mutation. It only showed up in about 0.02 percent of the entire galactic population.

So it wasn't such a farfetched idea that a clone could be Force-sensitive; he had the same chance as anyone else.

It wasn't so much the fact that Fib was a clone that was troubling Edi as the fact that she'd known him for months and hadn't noticed. Granted, finding untrained Force-sensitives wasn't one of her talents; they were harder to detect in the Force than someone who was trained. Still, realistically, she should have picked up some sort of hint that there was another Force-user nearby. Besides that, Fib was her friend, one of her boys, and she felt that she should have noticed something so important about him long before hand. Had she been somehow neglecting him?

But you know why you didn't sense it, whispered a small voice in the back of her mind, the one that sounded like Master Nivix. A shiver ran down Edi's spine. There was no denying that the Force was clouded, nothing like the pure clarity that she remembered from her childhood in the Temple. War, by its very nature, poured darkness into the Force, polluting it with greed and malevolence. It had clouded the Jedi's ability to see the future and, apparently, their ability to see what was right in front of them.

Edi glanced over at Fib, and then rested her hand lightly on his. She found the physical contact comforting, enabling her to feel his warmth and the soft pulse of blood in his veins. It also allowed her Force awareness to spread through his body and take stock of his physical condition. Edi was astonished by the rate of recovery that his body was undergoing; much of the surface damage was completely healed, while the internal damage was progressing quickly. It had only been ten hours since the attack and at this rate Edi guessed that Fib would be fully recovered in two days' time.

She was overcome by a sense of awe. Healing was one of the Force's rarest and most precious gifts. Many Jedi possessed some ability, at least enough to heal their own minor injuries. But to find someone with such a natural ability, not only to heal himself but possibly others, was rare indeed. It was a gift to be treasured, nurtured, and protected.

Just like that, a weight of dread settled on Edi's shoulders. Fib's gift was powerful indeed. He was a natural healer; she even suspected that he'd been using his gift unknowingly for some time. With that sort of raw, untapped power, what would happen if another Jedi sensed it? Worse, what if a Dark Force-user sensed it? There was always the possibility and Edi shuddered at the thought.

Then an even more terrible idea occurred to her, one of much more immediate danger. What if the Kaminoans found out? She could only imagine what the clone masters would give to get their hands on Fib's genome. Her body trembled at the idea of what they might do, what sort of experiments they might run, and what the end result would inevitably be. Kaminoans had no conscience, not where their products were concerned. She was under no illusions. Fib would most likely die as a result of his makers' insatiable curiosity. And it would all be to no avail. The Force could not be cloned. The few times it had been managed, the resulting clones had all gone insane.

No, everything was most definitely not all right.

It galled Edi that the reality of Fib's Force-sensitivity should arouse such trouble. This was something that should bring about happiness and joy, not worry and anguish. Once again, the war had poisoned something that was beautiful and made it into something ugly and heartbreaking.

A soft rustle roused Edi. She opened her eyes to see Shades standing uncertainly in the open curtain. He looked terrible, with dark bruises under bloodshot eyes and a gaunt face. Gesturing for him to enter, she stood and faced him.

Edi could feel the currents of uncertainty and conflict that surrounded the clone sergeant. The attack had shaken him, badly. It had shattered his reality and left it lying in pieces at his feet. Edi wished she could offer some sort of comfort, but she was afraid that if she offered to help him, he would blow up at her.

Shades met her eyes for a bare instant, then glanced away and focused on the man in the bed.

"How is he?"

Edi sighed softly. "He's recovering." She glanced at Shades's worried face. "He's going to be fine, Shades. He'll make a full recovery."

"How?"

"With the proper medical care and enough time—"

"That's not what I meant. How did he even survive?" He met Edi's eyes, looked right at her and into her. "What aren't you telling me?"

Edi met him stare for stare. His gaze was hot, almost burning. She hesitated…and felt instantly guilty. She'd never before felt the need to keep something from her men. But this something was so far beyond their limited experience that they wouldn't know how to handle it. Even she didn't. And how would Fib, once he was awake? But in the end, it all came down to a simple question: did she trust Shades? Edi didn't even have to think about the answer. Yes, she trusted him, more than anyone. And he wasn't stupid. He'd been there. Shades wasn't a medic, but he'd had more than enough experience with injuries to know when something was fatal. Under any other circumstances, Fib would have died. And beyond all that, Shades was Fib's friend.

He had a right to know.

"The Force," she said quietly.

"You healed him?"

"No, I just showed him what to do. He's healing himself."

"…I don't understand."

She supposed it would be too much to expect Shades to immediately grasp something that was so beyond what he considered normal. "He's Force-sensitive, Shades. Like a Jedi."

Shades stared at her blankly, then looked slowly down at Fib. "Oh…so… right now he's…"

"I helped put him in a healing trance. It's a meditative state that will allow his body to focus on healing itself. He should be completely recovered in two days."

"Just two days?"

Edi nodded. "He has a remarkable talent for healing."

"Oh."

Shades hadn't taken his eyes off the other clone the whole time. He seemed to be having trouble absorbing everything. That was understandable. Edi put a gentle hand on his shoulder, silently offering support. He didn't shrug her off, but neither did he respond. Edi felt a pang of loss as she slowly lowered her hand. This was ridiculous, he was right there. He wasn't dead. But he wasn't acting like the Shades she knew, and that upset her.

"I'll give you some time alone. If you need anything…" She trailed off, unsure what to say.

Shades nodded distractedly. "I'll find you."

Edi was suddenly dangerously close to tears. "Exactly," she choked out, then slipped quickly through the curtains.


He's a Force-sensitive. A Force-sensitive?

Shades couldn't get the idea through his head. His mind hadn't been working right, ever since the attack. He seemed to be registering everything at a distance. A part of him understood that what he was doing was a coping mechanism. He needed it to just get through the day. That was fine with him. He didn't think he could handle being the old Shades right now.

He's a Force-user. Fib is a Force-user.

He sank into the chair that Edi had so recently occupied. It was still warm.

Really, this explained a lot to Shades. Fib's amazing reflexes, for one. The way he nailed those commando droids back on Voss. How he won that ping pong match. Then there was the way the man could read people, even though he was so prickly and stand-offish that no one in their right mind would think that he had any sort of people skills. And the way he could touch people and take away pain. It was all the Force.

Is it true what Edi said about Jedi feeling others' emotions? Can Fib feel those? Maybe that's why he's always pushing people away. It probably gets pretty overwhelming. Can he feel… death?

Shades eyed Fib critically. He somehow expected the guy to look different, maybe glow or something. But he looked exactly the same, just a little paler than usual.

Right now, Fib was in something called a healing trance. Shades tried to imagine what was going on inside his brother's body and failed. It was all so beyond what he could understand. This was alien in a way that nothing else could be, because the strangeness had taken a form that Shades knew so well. Or thought he knew. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it.

But he did understand one thing.

He has a remarkable talent for healing. That's what Edi had said. She'd also said that Fib would be better in two days. Two days. Shades had seen how badly injured Fib was. By all rights, he should have died.

But he hadn't. Because he could heal.

An image of Slingshot came into Shades's mind. He was lying dead on a bed in medbay, covered in his own blood. He'd died from internal bleeding. Shades could hear Nex's sobs.

Next was an image of Nex, shot in the head by a commando droid on Voss. He'd never been the same after Slingshot died.

He remembered the eight brothers that had been lost on a scouting mission on Malrue. More than half had been Shinnies, fresh off Kamino and eager to prove themselves. They'd died trying.

He saw anew the mess hall in shambles. He saw Dax, the clone that had lost his leg when it was crushed. He saw the one that had been killed by a fork through the eye. He hadn't been able to recognize him because of all the blood.

Shades pressed his face into his hands, bracing his elbows on his knees. He was overwhelmed by memories of dead and dying brothers. Dead on the ground, dead in space, in the end it didn't matter, because they were all dead.

And Fib was alive.

Why does he get to live? What makes him so special?

Shades was angry. If Fib had this magical power to heal, then why didn't he use it? Why did Slingshot have to die? Why did Nex have to die? Why did any of them have to die? Fib could have fixed them; he could have saved them.

He felt cheated. Cheated for all the men that could have lived. They didn't have to die. Why hadn't Fib healed them? Why hadn't he done… something?

Shades became aware of someone looking at him. There was a prickling sensation at the base of his skull, caused by the short hairs there standing on end. The sergeant slowly raised his tired, bloodshot eyes.

Fib was half awake, looking at the other clone through half-lidded eyes. They looked black under the shadows cast by his eyelashes, not the familiar warm brown. The two stared at each other in silence.

Fib's eyes seemed overly bright in the dim, curtained-off cubical. He twitched, his hand moving weakly on the bed. His fingers extended, trying to reach a pleading hand out to his brother. His lips moved, forming words with no sound, but Shades understood.

Sorry.

He walked away.


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mad'ika