"A true revolution of values will lay hands on the world order and say of war: This way of settling difference is not just."

"Wisdom, Justice, and Love"

Linkin Park


An elbow into his side jostled Cody out of his thoughts and he focused abruptly on Saa's bemused face.

"You've just been asked a question, ad'ika," the older merc jerked his thumb toward the hovering Sol with a quirk of his lips.

"You have an introspective one there, eh, Saa?" the power chair-bound Mandalorian merely chuckled; his good humor washed over Cody like warm water and eased some of the clone's embarrassment.

"I suppose 'introspective' is one word for it," Saa snorted dryly and shot Cody another look – one full of unspoken humor, which belied the crispness of his tone.

"Sorry, I'm tired," Cody mumbled, not sure whether to join in Saa's amusement or to wither in his own self-consciousness; he scrubbed a hand roughly over his face and tried to refocus.

"Aren't we all?" Saa sighed heavily and Cody watched out of the corner of his eye as the merc flopped unceremoniously back onto his elbows.

"Ala is going to the kitchen to get us all refreshments. She was wondering if you would like some behot tea?"Sol's voice finally managed to anchor the clone back into the present.

"Ah..." Cody blinked and glanced at Ala – who had gotten to her feet and had moved across the low-lit room to stand momentarily by a second covered doorway. "Behot?"

"If the dent in your armor is any indication, you've been injured," Ala waved a pale and slender hand toward the chest-plate sitting on the floor by Cody's cushion. "I'm afraid our medic is indisposed at the moment, but I can give you something for the pain in the meantime. We don't keep stims here, but behot is an antiseptic herb, good for internal injuries as well. And it's a mild, natural stimulant, which might help a little bit with the pain."

"Won't a stimulant keep him awake?" Sheresh voiced the very concern that flashed through Cody's own mind.

Though, being kept awake was the least of Cody's concerns, when it came to stims. He chewed thoughtfully on his lip for a moment, before tentatively adding -

"I'm not sure a stimulant's such a good idea..." his voice trailed off uncertainly and he glanced at Saa for help.

"You'd have to take a lot of behot for it to be a problem," Saa shook his head, his voice low and surprisingly gentle. "I would actually recommend it, ad'ika. The beauty of behot tea is that the water dilutes the herb, so it's not a concentrated dose. It'll do you some good, until you can be looked over professionally."

"I'll be back, then, with a cup," Ala settled the issue; the smile she flashed Cody was oddly sympathetic, as if she had somehow been able to read between Saa's words.

She didn't explain herself, however, and the willowy Twi'lek promptly disappeared behind the heavy leather curtain that Cody assumed separated the gathering room from the kitchen. Watching her leave piqued his curiosity about the layout of the vheh'yaim, but further exploration of the establishment was not currently an option, so he tried to find a more comfortable position on his over-sized cushion. As he moved about, the clone's eye caught Sol's and the two regarded each other silently; the dark-skinned Mandalorian had the same thoughtfully knowing look on his face that Ala had had and Cody felt as if his character was being quietly appraised.

"Now, I think we were still making introductions, vode," Sol addressed the general populous, but he kept an eye on Cody, as if still trying to make up his mind about the clone. "For those of us who may have been lost in their own thoughts," the dark Mandalorian's smile flashed bright and the sight of it made Cody feel a little less awkward. "We got as far as Tor and Ala," the outpost leader waved his hand toward the Zygerrian, who was still standing guard at the door, and then toward the nearby kitchen. "I believe we were moving next to my youngest ad'ika, Orar."

The male who stood at the wave of Sol's hand was a complete contrast to his father-figure. Orar looked to be in his late teens or early twenties; he was almost as slender in build as Rowin, with pure white hair and matching skin. His eyes and his lips were both blue and he had three sharp, jagged black tattoos that clawed across his face, from just below the ear, across his throat, and down below the edge of his high tunic collar. Cody wondered if those tattoos were meant to cover facial scars – the former commander had known of a few clones over the course of the Wars who had chosen to transform their own scars in a similar manner.

If Sol was jovial and Tor was aggressive, Orar was soulful. He moved softly – even if it was just to his feet, from sitting cross-legged on a cushion – and his blue eyes were dark wells of quiet wisdom. In fact, Orar was unlike any Mandalorian Cody had met to date; everything about the young male suggested more of a scholar than a warrior. There were still blasters on Orar's belt, however, and there was a knife tucked into his right boot.

Looks, Cody decided, were always deceiving. Especially when it came to Mandalorians.

Still... the clone rubbed his chest, which had been twinging slightly as if to remind him that his injury wasn't to be forgotten. I wouldn't mind knowing what race he is. Never seen the likes of him before.

As if sensing Cody's thoughts – or, perhaps, reading them on the clone's oftentimes expressive face – Orar nodded his head at the group at large and answered the one question that was beginning to make the former commander itch with curiosity.

"Before I was Mandalorian, I was an Arkanian. I am an offshoot of that race, engineered specifically for one purpose," Orar glanced at Fives and then at Cody; there was a sudden kinship in the Mandalorian's dark eyes that took Cody by surprise. "I am not unlike you clones, perhaps, in that. Like Tor and Ala, I was a slave before Sol'buir and Bev'ba'vodu found me."

"Beviin is my uncle – my buir's biological and also Mandalorian brother," Sol explained the unfamiliar name, as Orar settled back down on his cushion of choice. "I've raised my children to call Bev'ika 'ba'vodu', or 'uncle', as well," the family leader chuckled, as if recalling a private joke of his own. "May the old Wroonian outlive us all."

Cody glanced around the room, as he counted the remaining bodies. There were only four left – all Zabrak and members of what looked to be their own nuclear family within the extended clan. Sol confirmed this, as he moved his chair next to an adult female who had gotten to her feet after Orar sat down.

"This is now my second-eldest ad'ika, Ka'ra," there was a particular fondness in Sol's voice, but also a note of sadness; Cody wondered if the choice of the word "now" was an indirect acknowledgement of the eldest son that Sol and his family had recently laid to rest.

"Su'cuy!" Ka'ra's dusty-colored face burst into a welcoming smile; she seemed to share her adopted father's enthusiasm for hospitality. "I'm afraid that unlike the rest of my vode," the statuesque Zabrak motioned toward Orar and Tor with a casual sweep of her hand. "Sol'buir rescued me from nothing more traumatic than a life-time of farming. I was once the youngest daughter of a Zabrak family in the southern hemisphere of this planet. And as the youngest daughter, I decided the life of a slicer-for-hire was far more exciting than planting crops."

Ka'ra – who seemed quite gregarious for both a Zabrak and a Mandalorian – turned toward the others sitting next to her and introduced them each in turn.

"This is my husband, Dha," Ka'ra's smile grew gentle as she rested her hand on the shoulder of a darker-skinned male Zabrak. "A more loyal husband one could never ask for and an even better father to our offspring," she pointed toward the two small bundles that Cody had correctly assumed were sleeping younglings. "You can't really tell them apart at the moment, but one is Kote and the other is Ven."

"How old are they?" Sheresh's tone was strangely wistful; Cody glanced at her and there was indeed a look of longing on the female's face that was obvious, despite the shadows in which she had chosen to sit.

"Kote is eight years old – his birthday is just past, in fact," a fierce pride flashed across Ka'ra's face and she puffed her ample chest out in a manner that would have been comical, had she not been a mother. "He's now old enough to begin his training with Dha."

"Training?" Fives, who Cody assumed probably knew next to nothing of Mandalorian culture, tilted his head a bit to the side in question.

"All Mandalorian younglings begin their five years of survival and military training at the age of eight. When they turn thirteen, it is traditional for them to take their verd'goten, or rite of passage. Upon successful completion of the verd'goten, the younglings are then considered full-fledged adults and may integrate fully into the Mandalorian culture," Saa took the opportunity to explain the unfamiliar concept with an ease that bespoke his experience in simplifying such concepts.

"And what about the other one?" Sheresh – who seemed quite interested in the little ones – steered the free-flowing conversation back on track, before Fives could open his mouth and ask yet another question.

The corner of Cody's mouth lifted as he glanced over at his brother. He could tell that Fives was taking it all in – the variety of sentients who called Sol "father", the presence of family, and the serenity of a place that was safe from immediate harm. A thoughtful look had replaced the initial suspiciousness of Fives' demeanor and the ARC glanced around with a carefulness that belied his interest.

"Ven?" Ka'ra had settled back down on her cushion; she reached over to pass a gentle hand over the top of a small, dark head. "Ven is five years old. You're all lucky she's asleep," the mother's traditionally tattooed face wrinkled further in a fond smile. "Normally, she would be trying to climb over all of you and asking a million questions at par-sec speed."

"Ah, to be that young again," Saa chuckled, his voice soft with memories that made Cody wonder what it was the old merc was remembering.

"We're still that young at heart, eh, vod?" Sol laughed himself and the two patriarchs shared a knowing smile between themselves.

"Always, Sol. We'll leave the growing up to the young ones," Saa's green eyes danced mischievously as he glanced over at Cody; it was hard not to return the merc's infectious mirth and Cody ventured his first true smile since leaving Mydwyth.

Ala reappeared at that moment, balancing a tray of what were apparently drinks. She paused at the side of every sentient in the room, allowing each individual to take one of the earthenware cups from off of her tray. Cody wasn't sure what was in the cups, but he assumed that all of them contained the same liquid – except for the one in the very middle, which Ala reserved until she stopped at his side.

"Behot tea," she offered him the center cup with a smile as warm as the steam that gently drifted up from the inside of the rough-made mug.

"Vor entye," the clone tried out some of the Mando'a that Saa had been teaching him on the side; the words felt clumsy in his mouth, but Ala's smile encouraged him.

It was a simple thing, to say "thank you" in another sentient's language, but Cody had long learned what a profound impact that could have in social interactions. If nothing else, it showed that he was trying to find his own place among the Mando'ad; that he, too, was trying to work out what it meant to be Mandalorian and to aspire to such a goal himself. He was surprised to discover, however, that speaking just a simple phrase in Mando'a, gave him a brief sense of kinship with other Mandalorians in the room. Suddenly uncertain, Cody glanced at Saa out of the corner of his eye. The older merc wasn't smiling – not quite – but the former commander had been around the Anobian long enough to catch the look of approval that warmed Saa's eyes.

"I see you've been working on this one," there was approval of a different sort in Sol's own deep voice.

"Much has changed, vod, since you and I last crossed paths during the Wars. But, I suppose you could say my experiences since then have fostered a sort of sentimentality toward clones. I'm merely extending to Cody the same chance that I offered to three of his brothers who came before him," Saa purposefully avoided Cody's gaze and instead directed his attention toward the small fire that crackled cheerfully in middle of their cushioned circle.

"And what offer might that be?" Sol asked the same question that popped to Cody's mind.

"Well...I suppose we ought to let Cody find that out for himself, don't you think?" Saa finally lifted his head and met the clone's eyes; there was something indescribable in the merc's face and Cody wished with a sudden fierceness that Saa would just say what was on his mind.

Cody barely dared to hope, but the deepest part of his soul wished that Saa would claim him in a formal fashion, with the Mandalorian adoption vow, as his son. It was one thing to claim Cody as Clan Par'jain in the face of an angry – and potentially homicidal – brother. But, the words of adoption had never passed Saa's lips. The merc had yet to refer to Cody definitively as "his son" and in moments like this, the clone was left on pins and needles, to hope perhaps in vain.

Saa seemed to sense what was on Cody's mind; his expression turned mysterious, almost mischievous, and he nodded toward the cooling mug in the clone's stiff hands.

"Drink up, ad'ika," there was a slightly ironic lilt to the Mandalorian word for "son" that wasn't quite lost on Cody; the clone lifted a sardonic eyebrow and Saa raised one of his own right back at the former commander. "The behot should help you get through the rest of the day."

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to keep us all up until a normal bedtime?" Sheresh almost whined, as she scrubbed her gloved hands over her face and groaned.

"I'm at least going to keep you all up until we have word that the baby's born," Saa shot his clan member a stern look.

"Is that another Mando custom?" Rowin – who Cody had mistakenly thought was asleep, with his back against the sturdy wall and his eyes shut – opened one blue eye and peered uncertainly first at Saa and then at Sol.

"It is customary for adult members of the family to stay awake in sympathy to the parents-to-be until the youngling is born, yes," Sol answered this time; Cody wondered if the Mandalorian ever didn't smile, as his voice still carried a hint of good humor.

"Holy heavenly hutch," Rowin muttered under his breath and promptly closed his eye; Saa tossed a pillow at the space-rabbit's head.

"Be respectful," was all Saa said, but his tone was enough for Rowin to harrumph under his breath, open his eyes, and push himself off of the wall.

Cody finally remembered his behot tea, however, and he took his first tentative sip. The herb in question had a strong citrus taste – tangy and slightly tart. The tea had been sweetened with some variety of honey, which gave it a mellow, earthy after-taste that counter-balanced some of the sharper flavor. There was no immediate affect of the tea, but Cody could feel its warmth slip down his throat and tingle beneath the tenderness of his wounded chest.

"Have you taken a look at your injury?" Ala surprised Cody and he turned his head around abruptly to see that she had taken a seat on the empty cushion next to him.

He looked at her, wide-eyed, and then glanced surreptitiously toward Tor, who was still standing guard by the door. The Zygerrian met the clone's gaze, but his expression was neutral at best; Cody couldn't gain any insight into the Mandalorian's inner thoughts and so he turned back to Ala, nonplussed. He was surprised to see that she had chosen to sit down next to him – he hadn't had any contact with any other females besides Tay and Hella in the last year, so the novelty of an unknown female choosing to keep company with him was a little unnerving. He was also slightly unsettled by the look of intense interest that lit up Ala's face as she leaned toward him with sudden resolve.

"Uh...um...no," he remembered the Twi'lek's question long enough to stammer out an answer.

Her eyes lit up and Cody felt himself leaning away from her out of a carefully cultured sense of self-preservation. She didn't exactly remind him of Tay, but the last time that he had had seen such a look of single-minded attentiveness on a female, he had been on the receiving end of a Jedi's particular affections.

"If you'll open up your flight-suit, I'll be glad to take a look at your injury for you."

Cody couldn't help himself – his eyes widened at Ala's bold suggestion that he partially strip in front of complete strangers. Baffled, the clone glanced toward Saa, who's slowly unfolding grin didn't offer any assistance whatsoever. Cody then looked toward Tor, in hopes of silently beseeching the Zygerrian to call off his wife. The ex-slave merely smirked and leaned a shoulder casually against the front door frame as he folded his arms over his chest.

"A modest man, aren't you?" there was almost a note of respect in Tor's raspy voice; Cody shifted his gaze back at Ala, who was still watching him expectantly.

"Does your wife usually ask strangers to undress?" Cody put a particular inflection into the word 'wife' and directed it bluntly toward Ala, in the hopes of forcing her to back off.

Tor's chuckle just drifted slowly across the silent gathering. Cody spared another quick scowl at Saa, who's grin only widened as he shrugged. The look on the merc's weathered face was one of well-schooled innocence. Cody narrowed his eyes at his elder and fought the urge to pick a verbal fight. Trying to bait Saa into a confrentation in order to avoid Ala's attention would not end in Cody's favor, though the clone was left to wonder why the alor had decided to leave him at the Twi'lek's mercy.

"Our medic has been training Ala to take his place, since he feels that his time here at Vecuyan is only temporary," Sol decided to assume Saa's usual place as the cultural go-between and explain the suddenly awkward situation; the Mandalorian's smile flashed bright in the flickering firelight. "I can assure you, Cody Par'jain, that her interest in you is merely professional."

"Oh," Cody still eyed Ala suspiciously, now uncertain of her qualifications.

All of his injuries in the past had been tended to by other brothers – clone medics assigned to whatever platoon he had served with at the time of his injury – or by Kaminoans, when he was a child. Once, he had been seen by a Corellian doctor, but that had been for his eye, when his signature facial scar had been too fresh to even scab over. Even then, the consultation had been overseen by a clone medical officer assigned to the ARC commander training battalion. The only time Cody had ever received any kind of medical care from a female, was when Tay had taken it upon herself to clean him up, patch him up, and make him whole.

Ala was a stranger and even more strange, for being female. Cody was reluctant to trust her, even though his sides ached in protest against his innate stubbornness.

"Oh, for Manda's sake, let her take a look at you!" Sheresh surprised everyone present by expressing her apparently simmering exasperation. "She's not going to hurt you any more than you already are!"

"I can't, really," Ala softened the severity of Sheresh's temper with a reassuring smile. "I can only assess the extent of your external injuries. I just want to make sure you haven't cracked a rib or anything, since you look like you're having trouble breathing and moving."

Everyone turned to look at Sheresh in surprise and the female Mandalorian unapologetically returned their stares. She shot Fives an especially scorching look; Cody glanced at his brother in time to see the ARC reward the bounty hunter's audacity with what was quite possibly one of the best scathing scowls the former commander had ever seen. Sheresh finally rolled her eyes over the rim of her still gently steaming mug and muttered something under her breath as she took a sip. Cody couldn't catch all of what she said, but it sounded suspiciously like "kriffin' younglings." Fives happened to glance toward Cody and the two shared a look of mutual indignation – Cody couldn't recall the last time he had been referred to as a "youngling", though he was willing to bet it had been by one of his instructors on Kamino.

Fives seemed to remember the same thing, because the ARC rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Numa. Cody eyed Sheresh a second time, but she had leaned back on her cushion and was frowning thoughtfully at the tip of her boots. The clone then remembered Hella having mentioned to Saa during their holo-com meeting that the then-unknown bounty hunter had once been numbered as one of the Cuy'val Dar. He considered Sheresh yet again in a new light; remembering Hella's indirect revelation of the bounty hunter's identity made the red-haired woman's outburst a little more understandable. If she was, in fact, a former Cuy'val Dar, then he was probably not the first clone Sheresh had ever lost her temper with and probably not the first time she had done so over a disregarded wound.

Force knows my own instructors yelled at me plenty of times for 'not taking care of myself', the corners of Cody's mouth twitched faintly at the memory. And they hadn't even been Mandalorian.

He had heard stories about the Mandalorian Cuy'val Dar – as had most of the "ordinary" clone troopers. While most of those stories had generally been treated as rumors and soldiers' myths at the time, Cody now wondered if perhaps there was some truth behind them after all. One of the traits of the Cuy'val Dar – with only a few suggested exceptions – that had been recounted in trooper tales, had been the instructors' collective attitude toward their clone charges. "Tough", "fierce" and "protective" were all adjectives Cody had heard used at one time or another in regards to the Cuy'val Dar – in any event, many troopers had come to envy their commando counterparts, for the care that they had been given during their years of Kamino training.

For the most part, no one doubted that a commando had been trained by the best, to be the best – and that they had been given more than just elite skills. Every commando Cody knew, had come out of Kamino with a name, while there were whole batches of troopers who hadn't earned their names until they had faced the fury of Geonosis or beyond. Cody also couldn't recall a single commando that he had ever met, who hadn't had a sense of heritage; he now knew that tight-knit aura of identity that seemed to permeate most commando attitudes had to have been fostered by Mandalorian mentors. Mentors like Sheresh, who clearly commanded respect and showed concern for her charges in return.

All of Cody's thoughts passed through his mind in a matter of seconds and no one seemed to notice that he had focused so intently on Sheresh during those silent moments. Since losing himself to his own thoughts wasn't going to change anybody's circumstances, Cody shifted his attention back to Ala, who was still patiently waiting for him to make a move.

The clone searched her green eyes for any hint of duplicitious, but Ala's gaze was clear and earnest. Finally, he nodded, as if to confirm her observation that he was indeed having difficulty with even minor movements. He winced as he reached up and began to gingerly open the front of his 'suit; Cody tucked his chin in toward his neck and glanced down at his chest as he unveiled the damage done.

There wasn't much to see at first, though there was a rather interesting pattern of blood marks, where his chest plate had bit through his 'suit to break the skin below. As he painfully shrugged a shoulder free of his right sleeve, Cody began to see the beginnings of a particularly magnificent bruise that radiated out across his muscled chest. Ala reached out as he tried – and failed – to pull his left arm free of his sleeve. Pain weakened Cody's defenses and he didn't shy away from her touch, as she helped him peel back his 'suit.

"What hit you?" her smooth, cream-colored forehead wrinkled delicately as she bit her lip and frowned at his chest.

"Chunk of duracrete," Cody wheezed; trying to wiggle out of the top half of his 'suit had left him breathless.

Ala's fingers were warm – a peculiar contrast to his memories of Tay's hands, which had always been pleasantly cool against his skin. The Twi'lek brushed her hand across his chest, which made Cody slightly uncomfortable, but a wary look into her face quieted any fears he might have had of misplaced attraction. Her expression was as intent as any medic's that he had seen in such situations before; her fingers probed gently, but there was definitely a clinical quality about her touch that put the clone at ease.

Being touched by a female was still hard, despite the night that he had spent in Tay's bed. While the Miraluka Jedi had done an excellent job of teaching Cody that touch had a wider range of emotion beyond those that were sexual, it was still difficult to accept skin-to-skin contact with another female. Touch – in all of its wonderful implications – was something he had only ever really shared with Tay. The only other template he had for touch came from Jaria and in the absence of his Jedi, Cody's instincts reverted back to those that been programmed before Tay's time. Mentally, he knew that Ala's interest stemmed only from professional concern; emotionally, however, the former commander had no idea how to react.

Pain distracted him from his inner turmoil and sharply realigned Cody's floundering emotions. The touch that probed – however gently – along his right ribcage was all medic and he suddenly had no problem whatsoever in reacting to Ala accordingly.

"'Fek!" Cody swore fiercely under his breath and it took all the discipline he had not to pull himself away from Ala's hand.

"I don't feel any internal injury in your pectorals, though you may have sustained some muscle contusion," Ala removed her hand and Cody managed a shallow sigh of relief. "With enough force from a blast, you could have bruised deeply enough for the pain to inhibit your breathing, though I think it'll get better in a day or two. I think you may have broken a rib or two, however," she shook her head and her lekku bounced gently across her slender shoulders. "I'll need a bioscanner to know more than that, but I'm afraid Kix has that at the moment."

Cody was too stunned – and out of breath – to respond, but Fives perfectly verbalized the former commander's mental mixture of astonishment and alarm.

"Did you just say 'Kix' had it?" the ARC didn't even bother to keep a straight face; surprise flickered swiftly through his dark eyes and his whole body snapped to alert.

"Well, speak of a devil and he shall appear," Sol's power chair whirred gently as the Mandalorian turned around and drew every eye in the room toward a third doorway that stood adjacent to the kitchen.

"You've got to be kidding me," Fives muttered, just loud enough for Cody and those closest to him to hear.

Even Cody didn't want to believe it, but there was Sergeant Kix of the 501st, standing in front of them in the flesh. The medic was slightly sweaty, exhausted, and oddly triumphant; his eyes widened as they roved over Fives' face and then over Cody's, but the surprise he clearly felt at seeing unexpected brothers didn't dim the excitement that threatened to burst out of him at any moment.

And, in mere seconds, Cody decided that he would never again doubt the Force, nor question its hand within the unexplainable coincidences that seemed to direct his life as of late. As he gazed at the clone medic framed in the vheh'yaim doorway, the former commander became a firm believer in both Fate and the Force. The Jedi were all but gone, the Republic's millennia of order and light had been extinguished, and both by his own hand – yet, the Force was still at work within the galaxy.

Cody knew, in every fiber of his being, that there was no longer such a thing in his life as "random chance."


A/N: *dramatic drumroll* Aaaaaand...yet another chapter for your reading pleasure. :) I'm afraid I don't have much to say this time around, since it's late and I've had a pretty busy day. But, there's just a week and three days left of NaNoWriMo, so the updates will keep on coming! Stay tuned!

Many warm thanks and love to witchcoven (thank you for the review! I'm always thrilled to learn that people are reading, even when they don't review much!), Codywolf, LongLiveTheClones, and laloga. You're a dedicated bunch of folks...and I am always honored to read your praise, encouragement, questions, and comments.

And, because I forgot to mention this in my last A/N...many thanks (again) to laloga for letting me borrow Ferro! ^^ We'll be seeing some more of him soon!

Love it? Like it? Hate it? Lemme know!