Chapter 14

Anakin found it hard to remain conscious.

The sedative worked wonders, scaring away his nightmares and shielding him from the operation that was taking place at his feet. Within the cramped space of the ship, there was no room for privacy. Master Che did her job right in front of the ship's crew. Those with weak stomachs could sit in front, and cover their ears.

Blood was everywhere.

Ahsoka tried her best, working in tandem with Master Che. Anakin snorted at one point, thinking how ridiculous it was. His stubborn Padawan taking orders from the even more stubborn Master Che—unbelievable.

Master Che had wrapped Obi-Wan up nicely with gauze and bandages, but within ten minutes he had bled through them. That's when the emergency blood transfusion took place, and stitches began. She worked on the internal bleeding, while Ahsoka quickly cleaned up the outer bleeding. Still, the whole ship started to smell metallic. It made Anakin's stomach do backflips.

It was when Obi-Wan woke up that his stomach gave up the fight.

The smell dramatically changed.

Padmé was there, beside him, holding a basin in front of him as he whined and puked out everything in him. Obi-Wan moaned along with him, making him feel even worse.

And if Obi-Wan and Anakin wasn't enough, Leo had a severely damaged his mechno port. The skin around where the metal joined flesh was bloody and raw. There was a significant gap between the beginning of the mecho and the end of his arm.

Rex sat next to the trooper, trying to steady the shaking soldier. He tried asking for a sedative from Master Che, but all she answered with was "Ask Skywalker." Rex took one look at the General emptying his stomach into a basin and thought better of it.

So, Rex gripped onto Leo like he was all mattered. It was Rex that got the poor kid into this mess, and Force he felt bad about it. He was barely an adult, and here he was—arm gone, brothers left behind, dealing with the pain because he knew others needed treating first. That was courage, if Rex had ever seen it.

"Captain," Leo whispered, voice hoarse. "How far off?"

"About ten," Rex answered. "You need anything?"

Leo shivered. "A new arm?" he tried to joke. The humor was lost on the Captain. "Is there…anything warmer? I'm a little cold in the hospital gown." Rex looked around the ship. They had brought almost no supplies; it was pure luck that they had brought weapons alone! There wasn't an extra scrap of clothing anywhere.

"Sorry, soldier. I could…?" Rex suggested, sidling up closer to the shivering clone without waiting for an answer, wrapping his arms around his shoulders tightly. Leo didn't say anything, just leaned heavily on the Captain and kept hissing out choppy, pain-filled breaths. "We are a sorry lot, aren't we?" Rex said, looking around the ship's interior.

"Yes, sir," Leo agreed.

"Call me Rex."

"Yes, sir."

It felt like the longest ship ride Ahsoka had ever been on. Every second dragged on, matching the tempo of Obi-Wan's labored breathing. Master Che worked fast, but she was losing the battle. Ahsoka could feel Obi-Wan slipping away.

So she worked harder.

When the ship docked, she barely noticed, working right up until the med corp pulled her off of the prone Jedi, kicking and screaming. She wouldn't leave him, not when he was in danger, not if she could help. Not him too, Ahsoka thought, You can't take Obi-Wan.

She screamed and cried as Echo and Fives grabbed on to her to hold her back. Master Che hesitated at the door of the ship. Both women watched as Obi-Wan was taken on a stretcher into the Halls of Healing, emergency lights blaring. Then, Master Che turned around, looking at Ahsoka. Both were covered in blood and tired, yet both understood they wouldn't be getting sleep any time soon.

"Stay with Skywalker," Master Che told Ahsoka. "He needs you."

Before Ahsoka could comprehend what the Healer had told her, Master Che had turned around and fled the ship, crossing the hangar in seconds.

Stay with Skywalker.

She could stay with her Master with permission.

Echo and Fives let go of her arms and she dropped to the ground. "Sorry, Commander," Echo said sheepishly. Ahsoka waved it off, turning slowly around to see Padmé and Anakin sitting together. Anakin had fallen asleep again, the sedative still doing its work. Padmé was nodding off next to him, eyes tired of staying open. Ahsoka closed her eyes as well, channeling the Force to guide her mind.

"Master, Master it's Ahsoka. It's time to go."

She then watched as his face carefully, waiting for a sign to show that he was awake, that he could hear her. When he didn't stir, she sat down shakily, the situation slowly dawning on her.

They saved Master Kenobi in time.

Master Skywalker was okay.

And Padmé…Padmé loved Master Skywalker.

She didn't know how she hadn't seen it earlier, how stupid she was to think it was all in her head. They were in love, and Ahsoka had been oblivious. She could see it in the way they looked at each other, the way Padmé smiled, the way Master laughed with his head thrown back like no one was watching. How their hands interlaced like they were made to fit together perfectly that way.

"'Soka?" her Master slurred, head lolling forward. Ahsoka was startled out of her thoughts. She crossed the floor to her Master's side: where she had always been but didn't feel like she belonged anymore.

"Master," Ahsoka said quietly. "Let's get you two back to your room, so you can sleep off the last of the drugs." Anakin smiled a lazy smile.

"Don' wan' move, Snips," he said before his smile dropped. "Iss' not real, is it? I'm not really here. Padmé isn' here, you're not here. Obi-Wan was here…ss'not real. Too perfect."

Ahsoka bit her lip.

"Let's get you into bed," she rephrased, hoping that he would stop talking before she became too emotional to say anything back at all. She shook Padmé awake and turned away quickly. "I'll let you two sort things out."

Because Master Che was wrong.

Anakin didn't need her.

He wanted Padmé.

Obi-Wan woke to the sound of Anakin falling.

"Master!" was the words that tumbled out of the young man's mouth as he tipped forward, falling with a thud to the ground. Obi-Wan was awake in seconds, hand shooting forward only to be met with glass. Bubbles raced around him as he watched his former Padawan fall to the ground. Helpless.

Stuck in a bacta tank.

Obi-Wan kept both of his palms pressed to the glass, his eyes wide with fear, until he saw Anakin slowly push himself up from the ground. His arm muscles bulged from the effort. Then, grabbing the handle that was installed on the side of the bed, Anakin hoisted himself up. Obi-Wan let out a breath, the bubbles cascading around him once again.

The blue liquid did nothing to distort the joy he saw on Anakin's face when he saw that Obi-Wan was awake.

In his haste, Anakin lurched off of his hold on the bed and tumbled back to the floor. This time, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. His Padawan had always been forgetful, but never to the point that he forgot he couldn't walk.

Or could he?

Obi-Wan had no perception of the time he had been unconscious. Anakin could very well have gotten better.

When he saw the scrape on Anakin's cheek from the fall, and him struggling to get back up, Obi-Wan changed his mind.

Using his arms to pull himself over, Anakin made his way slowly to the bacta tank. That mischievous grin that Obi-Wan had always loved to see returned to his former Padawan's face. Gripping with white knuckles to the control panel of the bacta tank, Anakin lifted himself up to a somewhat-standing position.

His arms shook with exhaustion.

But he was standing.

Obi-Wan pressed his hands on the glass, framing Anakin's face that was a glorious mess of happiness and pride. He watched as those lips mouthed the words.

"Welcome back Master! I can stand!"

Padmé sat alongside of Vokara Che, sorting through another file of medical records of some faraway planet. After two hundred some records, Padmé had encountered exactly nothing on paraplegia. Nothing even close. She was starting to become depressed.

"There's nothing here," she said, exasperation filling her voice. "Give me the next file." Vokara shook her head.

"There are still twenty some records left in your file. Finish those and I'll give you the next ones."

Padmé closed her eyes, trying to gather her composer.

She paged through the rest of the files. Nothing—just as she suspected.

As she tossed the file back to Master Che, Padmé pinched the bridge of her nose. She thought that when she volunteered to help Master Che sort through the medical records she would be doing some sort of good—something to help Anakin get better. Yet, all she's seen is the correct number of stitches one should give to a bullet wound and when to sling someone's arm. There was nothing on paraplegia.

Yet Vokara kept looking.

Padmé didn't realize how tenacious the woman was, nor how stubborn.

"Should be break for lunch?" Padmé suggested. Vokara harrumphed.

"Break if you'd like. I've got a patient at one, and I plan on searching until then."

Padmé stared for longer than she planned to. Then, she slowly got up from her chair in Master Che's office and walked out the door.

Who would have thought that the crabby Master Healer would search for so long, so hard, for Anakin? She felt so grateful, so wrong to have doubted that she wanted to help Anakin. She had heard the stories first hand—of how Vokara treated her patients and the things she put them through. Yet here was the same woman, searching with all of her heart, to help her husband walk again.

She felt so sorry for everything she's thought.

It had been weeks since her ship blew up, though it felt like it was yesterday. She still saw Obi-Wan's prone, bleeding form in her dreams. She still remembered the look of betrayal in Ahsoka's eyes when she came out to her that Anakin was married to her.

She hadn't seen Ahsoka since.

Rumor had it that she and Captain Rex left the Halls, despite Rex's condition, and were back on the front. Others have said that they saw them hiding out at a dive bar downtown. She didn't know who to believe. All Padmé knew was she should have gone after her.

Why didn't she go after Ahsoka?

But it was too late now.

And it was only a matter of time before the secret was out.

Leo sat alone in his recovery room.

There was only one bed left in the room—the one he was laying in. The other cots had been moved out. His brothers had gotten better and moved out back to the battlefield, while he was still in bed, suffering from a "minor setback" in his recovery.

He grit his teeth, fisting his good hand and slamming it against the railing on his bed. He was supposed to be fighting out there. He was supposed to be the empty bed. Rex ran away with Commander Tano, Echo and Fives were deemed recovered.

General Kenobi was stuck in a bacta tank.

General Skywalker wouldn't talk to him.

Master Healer Che didn't come and visit anymore.

He was completely and utterly alone.

It was too much to think about, too heavy on his heart to think that all of his brothers deserted him. Did they even remember his name anymore? Or was he just that clone who lost his hand in battle. A myth.

Leo closed his eyes, head sinking into the pillow. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat did nothing to soothe him. He was replaceable, expendable. He would probably be on the cleaning crew for the rest of his life because of this "minor setback" in his recovery.

His hand was useless again.

The wires were fried. Another surgery to replace them would risk his life.

And he had thought about taking the risk, but something in him kept him from saying yes. Maybe it was that he wasn't ready to give up yet. Maybe it was because he felt like he was a part of something.

Leo stood at the edge of a chasm and looked down, but didn't like the view. So be backed away. Sat down. Refused to jump.

Yet he could see the chasm still, in the back of his consciousness.