Rex remembered to salute, though he didn't think General Kenobi saw at all. Instead the General was finally going to get some rest, and Rex was standing guard. There had been some turning point; the bacta finally seemed to be working, and he had been assured that General Skywalker would be on his feet by the time they touched down on Coruscant. It was a superficial sort of return to normalcy but it was one Rex still appreciated. For at least a few more days he could stand guard knowing that nothing catastrophic was going to happen while his back was turned – that he wouldn't hear some buzzing klaxon from the medical bay which meant that he would have to polish his armor for a funeral. Even though, of course, his armor was already polished for such an occasion. Rex made a point to be prepared, after all.

General Skywalker was at least well enough to sit up when the Senator came to sit with him, and Rex spent the next fifteen minutes with his back turned to the door, staring at the opposite wall and trying to ignore whatever was reflected through the medbay's windows onto the wall's shining surface. After all, a husband and wife deserved privacy together. At least that is what Rex had been told, and it seemed to make sense. In the only life he knew there was little time for women (at least, real women, not holograms or paintings on the sides of starships), and the idea of a wife seemed impossible. He had to wonder how General Skywalker had time for it all.

He tried not to stare at the reflection, even as the Senator moved closer and knit her hand in General Skywalker's hair and they kissed deeply.

There were just all sorts of logistical issues, he reasoned. Would the Senator become Senator Skywalker? Or would the General take her name? He had to admit to himself that General Amidala didn't have quite the same ring to it. Truthfully, Rex couldn't understand what was going to eventually happen. The clones, his brothers, operated under more or less the same rule the Jedi did, or at least he thought that it was close enough to compare. Sure, some brother might have a girl for a week of shore leave, but there was an understanding that despite whatever he felt, he would be back on that transport with the rest when it came time to go. You left the port girls back at port, except for if she was especially stunning, then you brought along a holovid to have her painted on your company's transport. That was how things were, and it was a good little system, with few exceptions, and the only exception he knew was a damn deserter – so, Rex had long ago decided he didn't count.

In the reflection, the Senator's mouth moved as if whispering something tender and delicate, and the General's hand moved to caress at her face. She nuzzled against it, eyes closing, comforted by the touch.

Rex wondered if she was able to do so only after getting used to the one false hand he knew the General had before, or if there was something else to it. She certainly treated every detail as if it were the same, although she kept the high collared shirt he wore buttoned. He knew that the touch surely couldn't be the same – if nothing else, metal was cold and flesh was warm. Parsimony told him that it was likely because she loved him. And that made sense. For not the first time, Rex felt a sense of loss. There wasn't any room to have such love, not with the war, not with his duties. But it was a detached sense of loss, one that he had been trained into, like a citizen of a landlocked planet reflecting that he will never have fresh wild clams when he has never even had seafood before.

He had the feeling he probably should have stopped watching the blurred image of the reflection, especially as the kisses grew more intense and the first true ruddiness returned to General Skywalker's cheeks. He at least tried to look away as the Senator's hand started to run down the General's shirt with a distinctly seductive touch.

Rex was not able to see how her fingers, probing for the muscles and smooth skin she knew so well, accidentally found one of the switches of the chest panel of the suit he had been forced into. But he did hear the anguished, gurgling cry that General Skywalker gave, doubling over. The Senator flew back with a half shriek, the mood thoroughly broken as he gave sobbing gasps for breath and the medical droid wheeled over.

This time he turned around to watch through the window as the Senator stood there, shaking, trying and failing to keep her composure. She gave a bark of a sob and rushed to the small adjoining bathroom, locking the door behind her. His voice was ragged as he called out, pleading with her to come back, but as he huffed in pain it was obvious the moment was gone. Whatever illusion she had created of him whole and healthy had been broken.

Rex waited until things had calmed before stepping into the room. General Skywalker was shielding his face with a hand, almost as if ashamed, and it took a moment before Rex cleared his throat. "General Skywalker, sir –" He paused a moment more. Surely there wasn't anything that he could truly offer to help, but still, he felt that it was his duty – no, better than duty –

He didn't notice how Anakin's shoulders trembled slightly as he looked up to glare at Rex in a way that seemed wholly unnatural.

What General Skywalker actually said was lost to him, later. Rex only remembered the tone – deeper, harsher than he had ever known, as if someone else entirely had stepped into the General's body. Everything was blocked out by the near-immediate white blankness that swept over his mind as he felt his feet lift off the floor. He clawed desperately at his throat as if he could shake off what was choking him so easily, but it was useless – he gagged, feet kicking – the blank whiteness was seeping into his vision, now –

Abruptly he was released, and he gasped, coughing hard, dizzied.

He could hear General Skywalker's breaths also coming in terrified, half-sobbing gasps.

"Rex," he finally choked out, "I think you should go." It wasn't a demand, but instead a request, delivered in a voice that was shaking with fear.

But he was a good soldier and he knew how to follow orders, even as he staggered up, coughed, and rubbed at his throat. "Yes, sir."

"And Rex?"

"Yessir?"

"Don't… don't tell General Kenobi, please."

He hesitated at the door a moment before nodding and remembering he was good at following orders. "Yessir, General Skywalker."