Revised: September 24, 2013

Whatever Happened to Captain Rex

Chapter 26

The entire planet smelled like fetid Gamorrean snarook. No matter how much it rained, it never got better. Two weeks into the mission of Kothlis, and Ahsoka was just as miserable as the day they'd deployed. The place was a big smelly, muddy pit.

She wondered how Rex was doing back at ArmyMed. Hopefully he was almost fully recovered and had regained all the weight he'd lost. Picturing him brightened her mood, and temporarily blocked out the misery of Kothlis.

She wished they were in communications range, so she could find out how he was doing. But, communications were exceedingly difficult this far out into the Outer Rim. Most of the time, the Separatists jammed all their communications. They were lucky if they could get 30 to 60 seconds of a clear signal to report back to the Jedi Council. Even then, the signal was so degraded, it became a guessing game of: "What did they say? Were they saying to proceed, or not to proceed? Did anyone get that?"

Without someone to tease, or for her eyes to constantly seek out in the field, there just was nothing to break up the monotony of each day. The days seemed endlessly slow, and one day blurred into the next. Ahsoka just wanted to get done with this siege.

The 501st had split off from the 212th for a two-pronged attack, so she no longer had Cody's steadying presence. Cody wasn't Rex, but it was still comforting having him around. He seemed to have appointed himself her backup support person now. She'd never even known he had a sense of humor before, but he actually had a dry wit that surprised her at many turns. Without Rex around, she'd come to rely upon Cody's emotional support. Her Master seemed to be getting more distracted, and irritable. When Master Kenobi was around, he seemed to keep Master in check. But, there was no one to spare her from the emotional mood swings at the moment.

Ahsoka huddled in a small, rocky enclave, wrapped in a standard issue Republic blanket.

"Ugggh!" she muttered out loud, "I hate this shabla planet!"

She stopped, and then smiled a tiny bit, realizing she was automatically picking up on Rex's Mando curse words. Then, she frowned again, as she thought of how far away Rex was, rather than stuck on this miserable planet with the rest of them.

She muttered under her breath, once again rearranging the blanket, trying to seal in a bit more bodyheat. I'm freezing. Hate the weather. Hate the planet. The first words that came to mind were colorful Mando'a curse words. It felt good to say them, so Ahsoka stretched her mind and called up every curse word she'd ever heard Cody or Rex utter, and then muttered all of those under her breath, too. Huh, I do feel a bit better. She felt as if she'd released a bit of steam off the pressure valve than her existence had become over the past few weeks. She repeated all the curse words again, carefully committing the whole sequence to memory.

Huh- there's almost a rhythm to the words, Ahsoka noticed. She muttered them again, this time humming a little tune with them. I think I might be on to something here. The words seemed to flow so well with the music. She sung it again and again, perfecting the words with the rhythm of the song. She began tapping her foot in rhythm to the song. Yes, it's really, very catchy.

The rain started coming down even heavier, now accompanied by globs of hail. Ahsoka watched the hail pieces bounce off the ground with a distinctive 'plink.'

Two troopers came running through the rain and hail, looking for a bit of shelter. The hail made a thwacking sound as it pelted against their armor. Ahsoka waved to them, indicating she had a bit of shelter. They ran in her direction, and joined her in the little enclave. They nodded their thanks. Ahsoka nodded in return, but kept singing and humming her little tune quietly. She was doing it automatically now, not really thinking about it. It had become a self-soothing tune. She stared out at the rain, not even taking the time to notice which two troopers had taken shelter with her. In the past, such things mattered a lot to her. They were all Rex's men, and, her men, and she made an effort to connect with each and every one of them. But, she was just feeling worn down right now. She was worn down by this planet. She was worn down by this war. She was worn down from being separated from the one person who always made all of this seem O.K.

So, she just keep humming her tune, missing the shocked looks exchanged between the two troopers in the cave. After a while, their shock faded to amusement, and then, feet started tapping, and heads moving, as they were caught up in the catchy rhythm of the song.

# # #

Uggggh. Ahsoka grimaced as she sank ankle deep in mud. Not liking this.

She began cursing the planet under her breath as she attempted to pull her boots free of the mud. She blew out a breath. Her colorful litany had become her mantra. Muttering relieved her frustration and boredom. Humming her song was self-soothing, and singing made her feel less alone. So, Ahsoka sang and hummed. She stopped and looked around. She hadn't made much progress. The mud was still totally hampering her progress.

In her misery, Ahsoka began to have odd, illogical fantasies. She visualized destroying the whole planet in one fell swoop. She knew this was a ridiculous thought. There was nothing in the universe that could destroy a planet, not even the power of the Force. But, it was a nice fantasy, all the same. She detested this muddy pit.

As she struggled to yank her boot out of the mud, she once again visualized the entire planet disappearing off the cosmic map. She harshly tugged her boot out of the sticky mud. Her foot came up, but not her boot. She stood there, balanced on one leg, staring at her bare foot dangling above her stuck boot.

"Arrrrgh!" she knashed her teeth in frustration.

She shoved her foot back into her boot, and tried to lift her foot. But, she only succeeded in getting her other foot mired in the mud as well.

"Ahhhhh!" Ahsoka wanted to stomp her feet in frustration, but she couldn't move her feet enough to do so.

"How's it going, Snips?" Anakin asked, slogging through the mud toward her. For some reason, he seemed to be having an easier time traversing the muddy terrain. Why did things seem to come easier to him? It didn't seem fair.

"Oh, just great, Master," Ahsoka replied, planting her hands on her hips, and staring down at her stuck feet. "I was just doing my impression of a tree. I've decided to take up permanent residence, right in this spot."

Anakin studied her for a moment, then put his hands around her waist, and easily lifted her out of the mud. Her boots pulled free with a gurgling, sucking sound. "There you are. Now, no more playing in the mud, OK? We have work to do," Anakin began walking away.

Ahsoka's feet immediately began sinking down into the mud. She growled in frustration and began working at freeing herself.

Anakin turned around, and walked back to Ahsoka.

"Aw, come on, it's not that bad," he pulled her free of the mud again, this time carrying her a short distance to a drier, sturdier patch of dirt before setting her down. He gave her a brotherly pat on the shoulder. "Cheer up. We'll finish up here, and then we'll be on to our next exciting destination... Look at it this way, you're getting to travel to exciting places you may not have seen otherwise. Surely this beats just sitting in the Temple?" Anakin gave her such a cheerful smile that Ahsoka didn't have the heart to tell him what she really thought of the planet. They walked side-by-side, headed toward the long column of clone troops setting up for their oncoming battle.

Ahsoka glanced at her Master. He was in a good mood today. It was a nice change from some of his unexplainable bouts of sullen moodiness. But, now she was the one in a bad mood. She scowled at her Master. "About that finishing up part? Just how do we accomplish that exactly?" Ahsoka stumbled and nearly fell. Her feet were mired in mud again. Ahsoka grunted in frustration, and began tugging at her boots. Anakin shook his head at her, amused at her continued struggles with the mud. She continued on with their conversation, while she struggled to free her boots. "What is our strategy here? What have we even accomplished here? Seems to me we are getting our tails kicked while the Council makes up their minds, and we are fast running out of clones." Ahsoka's full attention was on tugging her boots out of the quagmire of mud. She missed the look of rage that passed across her Master's face. But, she felt it. She looked up startled to see her Master clenching, and unclenching his fists.

"Master?" she asked, hesitantly, "are you OK?"

"Padawan, " Anakin said curtly, and pointing to a spot out of earshot from the rest of the troops, "a word in private."

When he refers to me as 'Padawan,' it's always bad.

The troopers close enough to overhear shot Ahsoka a look of sympathy. Ahsoka's shoulders drooped, "Yes, Master." She attempted to follow his orders and head to where he had pointed. But, she was still stuck. Anakin pulled her free once again, but, he did so with much less gentleness this time. He set her roughly back on her feet. Ahsoka almost lost her balance, and narrowly avoid tumbling into the mud. Anakin stalked away, headed over to a thicket a small distance away. Ahsoka obediently followed.

Anakin made a hand gesture to a couple of troopers who had just stopped to see if they need assistance. Anakin shook his head curtly, gesturing that they should continue walking, "Go. We'll catch up," he said curtly, in a tone that brokered no argument.

"Yes, General," the two clones said in tandem.

Ahsoka was sure they were muttering to themselves in their helmet comms, speculating about what the Jedi were up to now.

As Anakin trudged in the mud, following his padawan, his feet slapped heavily against the sticky mud. The dark, dank soil was a perfect match to his stormy mood. They both stopped once they were out of earshot from the main column of troops. Anakin stood over Ahsoka, arms folded across his chest, glowering down at her. Ahsoka peered up at him, determined not to cower, but she sensed she was in for another talking-down from her boss. She knew that look.

Anakin stared at Ahsoka for a long moment, not saying anything. She met his gaze, trying to figure out what it was she had done wrong this time. Maybe if she could figure out what it was, she could apologize in advance and head off his rebuke. But, as Ahsoka looked up into his eyes, she couldn't get any clues as to her latest misstep.

Anakin continued to just gaze at her, not saying anything. Ahsoka began to squirm under his continued scrutiny. Somehow, his not saying anything at all was much worse than one of his heated lectures.

She was about to open her mouth and just offer a general apology for whatever it was that she had done, when Anakin finally spoke.

He sighed, rubbed both hands against his temples, as if rubbing away a headache, and then gave Ahsoka a sad, paternal look: "Ahsoka, I understand that you're tired. You're frustrated." His tone was much gentler than what she had been expecting, "I know how worried you've been about Rex. Everybody here feels the same way, including me. We're all feeling the strain of not having him here. Appo is a competent commander, but nobody could fill Rex's boots. He is the heart and soul of the 501st." Ahsoka stared at her Master in surprise, feeling that just perhaps he was getting much better at this Master business, after all. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know Rex has taken you under his wing since your arrival. Frankly, even I'm extra nervous with having him around. I relied upon him to keep you out of trouble."

Ahsoka made a wry face. She could keep herself out of trouble. She opened her mouth to object, but her Master put a hand forestalling anything she might have to say.

"Let me finish. Our whole balance as a unit is thrown off without Rex here," Anakin continued, "But, we all still have an important job to do. The 501st Legion can't stop fighting while we wait for Rex to return. It might be a while before he returns." Hearing those words made Ahsoka choke up. She blinked quickly, forcing back tears. "We still have a war to fight, and, unless we're all giving it 100 percent, people are going to die. Troopers. Jedi. Rex's men," Ahsoka's eyes went wide and she immediately flashed back to the cave and Rex's memories of Teth. She tried to push those memories aside so that she could focus on what her Master was saying, "All of that being said, Ahsoka," Anakin's voice took on a much firmer, darker tone, "You cannot contradict me in front of the men, and, make statements like you just did. Ever."

Now that her Master pointed it out, she realized she was wrong. Ahsoka hung her head in shame, wishing she could go back in time and take her words back.

"I'm sorry, Master. I was wrong. I see that now," Ahsoka said, clearly meaning the words.

"You are their Commander, Ahsoka," Anakin continued, "with command comes great responsibility. You must give the men confidence, and not a sense that all is hopeless. You can't just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. Next time, think before you speak."

"Yes, Master," Ahsoka said, wishing she could make a hole in the ground, and just disappear into it. It wouldn't be too hard, actually. This ground was already so soft because of all the mud...

Her Master just stood there staring at her. Ahsoka felt like the moment lasted forever. She wished he would just walk away, and leave her alone with her shame. Finally, Ahsoka broke the awful silence. "Master, can we just never speak of this again, please?"

"I guess that's up to you, Snips," Anakin said, "now let's get back out there, and motivate our troops. We have another long, tough day ahead of us."

Anakin turned his back on her and headed back toward the advancing column of troops. Ahsoka was incredibly relieved to be left alone for a moment. She wanted to just sink down into the mud, and wallow in self-loathing. Was Master Yoda's faith in her misplaced? Was she too young to be out here fighting taking on this kind of responsibility? Ahsoka looked over to where her Master had joined with the long line of soldiers marching toward their next battle. A seemingly endless line of black and white, etched with painted on stripes of blue. As she stared at these men, she felt affection for them. She felt protective of them. She felt proud of them. Yes, perhaps these were all emotions she was not supposed to feel. But, she felt them anyway. She had a duty toward these men. Rex's men. She would not leave them to fight in this battle alone. She would protect them to her dying breath, just as Rex would do.

They're even younger than I am. I have to protect them.

Squaring her shoulders, she forcefully yanked her feet free of the mud and headed back toward the long line of soldiers.

She was a Jedi, and she had a duty to perform. She would not shirk her duties.

# # #

Rex felt himself being hauled out of the bacta tank.

I'm getting out.

He could taste bacta dripping down the back of his throat. The sickly sweet tang would be tickling the back of his throat for days to come. But, it was a small price to pay for the accelerated healing of bacta. He could only hope it had healed his injuries this time as well as in the past.

Rex had been unconscious for most of his 14 days in the bio-bacta tank. But, at times, he'd felt himself drifting back up into awareness. It was an uncomfortable state, somewhere not quite between twilight sleep and full awareness. He could feel the odd sensation of being weightless and adrift in the bacta tank. He knew where he was, and why he was there. But, he had no fine motor control. Unable to open his eyes, or move his limbs, he was stuck in a helpless, unmoving state.

His thoughts would drift to the 501st. He didn't know where there were deployed right now or how their mission was progressing. The complete lack of information bothered him to no end. How were the troops adjusting to Appo? And, what if they preferred Appo to him? Or, what if Appo didn't get along well with the Legion and things were not progressing well on the mission? How many casualties had they suffered? Would they have suffered less if he had been there instead of Appo? This thinking made him feel guilty that he was stuck here in this bacta tank. Maybe he wasn't careful enough out in the field and that's why he'd gotten shot by commando droids, twice now. As he hung suspended in the tank for hours on end, he found it was the not knowing what was going to the people he cared about that was the worst part. Even though he tried to keep his thoughts about his commander on a professional level, he did find himself thinking about the Jedi padawan who'd worked so hard to save his life. He found himself worrying constantly, and he never actually considered himself the 'worrying' type. A careful planner, yes, a worrier, no. But, he was always the one that watched out for the little padawan. So, who was watching out for her now that he was stuck here on Coruscant? All kinds of things could happen in two weeks. Commander Tano refused to wear any kind of body armor, and without it, it just took one stray blaster bolt... Thoughts like that drove Rex crazy as he had floated for those many days in the dark, weightless limbo. During those seemingly endless days in the bacta tank. Since he drifted in and out of consciousness, he couldn't track how many days had passed, or how much longer he had to go until he'd get out. Had it been two days? Eight days? 12 days?

At one point, during one of these 'twilight awareness' episodes, he had a moment of panic. He came up with the paranoid thought: 'what if the medical facility came under attack? Would anyone remember to evacuate the bio tanks? Would there be enough time? Would anybody care enough? Or, would he be stuck floating here for all eternity, until the power gave out, and his body slowly starved to death. He imagined himself one of many identical skeletons floating in a row of identical bio tanks. This 'panic attack' must have caused his heart rate to spike. He heard a sensor go off outside the tank. Then, he heard muffled voices. At that point, they must have adjusted his sedative to a much higher dose. He immediately felt himself getting very drowsy, and then didn't remember anything at all until he was hauled out of the tank.

He was very groggy and disoriented when he was hauled out of the tank. OK, they had definitely upped the dosage. He was totally out of it. He could barely move. Since he didn't have much control over his limbs, he wasn't much help when they deposited him onto an anti-grav stretcher. He was rolled onto the stretcher in an ungainly heap and taken to a nearby refresher. The room was heated, which was a pleasant change from the chill of the bacta tank. Rex was rolled into a waiting tub of water. He kept his eyes closed. It was unpleasant to open them, since he still had bacta gooped everywhere. But, he was also still exhausted and staying awake took a great deal of effort.

Rex's eyes popped open when he felt someone scrubbing him clean. He blinked through the goop stuck to his eyelids, trying to focus on who or what was next to him. By both sound and sight, his groggy brain finally realized he was being scrubbed by a chirpy R3 droid. The droid was fast and efficient, vigorously scrubbing Rex free of the bacta everywhere on his body. He didn't leave one part of Rex untouched.

"Ow! Easy there! Those are attached, you know!" Rex protested, putting a hand down to protect his more private areas. The R3 scrubbed on, regardless of Rex's protests. The droid finished his vigorous scrubbing, and then left without so much as a chirp good-bye. But, at least he was finally free of the bacta.

# # #

The battle was not going well. After her near disastrous conversation with her Master that morning, Ahsoka was trying to be a model Jedi. She kept trying to be upbeat and positive around the troops, making up for her careless comments earlier that day. It was exhausting being this cheerful, but Ahsoka kept at it.

Still, there was no denying it, they were seriously outgunned. She still wondered if this planet was worth all this trouble. Her Master charged forward, leaving the meager cover of the ditch they'd been huddled in. Ahsoka took a deep, steadying breath, and then charged after him. She was trying to do her duty as a padawan and cover her Master's back at all times. But, covering Anakin Skywalker's back was a very challenging task. It seemed to Ahsoka that her Master was becoming increasingly reckless as time went on. And, as Ahsoka charged after him, time and time again, she was drawn into ever more perilous situations.

At the same, Ahsoka was also trying to watch out for Rex's men. She needed to watch over them extra carefully and return them back to Rex in the same condition as he'd left them. She kept racing back, trying to protect the troopers, and then racing back up to her Master to cover his back. The pace she was setting for herself was absolutely exhausting. The Jedi Council suspected the Trade Council had yet another new ally somewhere here in the Outer Rim. However, as of yet, they could not figure out who it was.

The Separatists were well supplied on troops and munitions. The Republic supply lines were much more limited. They seemed to be running short of everything as the battle waged on- munitions, medicine, food, and, clones. Ahsoka cringed, and recoiled, every time she saw another clone go down. She took each loss personally now.

I'm so sorry, Rex, she whispered, as she watched another 501st trooper go down. I've failed you.

# # #

Rex sat in the examination room, waiting for the doctor to come in.

He shivered in his t-shirt and boxers. He'd finally warmed up, thanks to the bath, and now he was getting chilled again. His teeth began to chatter. He tried to clamp them together, but despite his best efforts, they chattered anyway.

So far, Rex had resisted the temptation to look down at his knee. He wanted to wait until the doctor came and told him how much progress he'd made. But, finally, after what seemed like an endless wait in the freezing room, Rex decided to look. He was just so mind-numbingly bored, and he needed a distraction from the cold. Rex studied his knee for a good long while.

It definitely looks better than it did before. Bacta does some amazing things... Still, though...

The bacta had regenerated tissue, muscle and skin all around his injured knee. But, there were definitely still parts missing. Around the newly healed parts, Rex's knee was still misshapen and sunken in.

Maybe it looks worse than it is. With a bit more time, those other parts will...regenerate on their own, maybe?

Rex wondered if he'd gotten any control or movement back into his leg again. He didn't care if his knee looked awful. He just wanted to be able to walk on it again.

Come on, leg, move.

He sent the signal with his brain, but his leg didn't get the message.

Aw, come on, just a little bit.

Rex stared at his leg, his full concentration centered on contracting the quadricep muscle and getting some movement out of his knee.

OK, forget about that. How about something really basic for starters. Maybe just a little wiggle of a toe or something?

Rex stared at his foot, willing one of his toes to move. He didn't care which one. He just wanted to see some kind of movement concentrating as hard as he could. Sweat started to break out on his brow. The toes on his bare feet remained stubbornly still.

Rex was still staring fixedly at his toes when the doctor walked in. His entrance startled Rex. The doctor gave him an odd look, but didn't say anything. It was a different doctor once again from the previous two, but Rex was just glad it wasn't a tinnie. He'd had enough of tinnies, both the kind that did this to him, and the kind that wanted to turn him into one of them because of it. The doctor introduced himself politely, and greeted Rex by his rank. Rex nodded back respectfully. The doctor immediately got down to business. He pulled down a bright overhead light and began intensely studying Rex's knee. He paused, pulled up records on his datapad, and then studied Rex's knee again. He began frowning and shaking his head. Rex felt his stomach twist into knots.

The doctor pulled a sharp metal probe out of a nearby drawer. Rex saw him poke his foot with the probe, but he felt nothing.

"Did you feel that?" the doctor prompted.

"No," Rex replied, getting a sinking feel of dread.

The doctor probed another area of Rex's foot, "And, here?"

Rex shook his head, struggling to remain calm. Visions of his entire military career- his future, his friends, his life - were crying out to him, threatening to obscure his vision in a hazy red curtain. Rex realized he was not breathing normally.

The doctor stopped, and looked up at Rex with concern: "You, OK, Captain? Take deep breaths. Do you need a sedative while we do this?"

Rex shook his head, and tried to even out his breathing. He didn't trust himself to speak. He decided that this doctor seemed like a decent enough guy, and that gave him a glimmer of hope that somehow this all might work out in the end.

After giving Rex a searching look, the doctor went back to his examination. He continued to prod various places all over the bottom and top of Rex's foot with the same result.

"And, here?" the doctor asked, probing Rex's shin. Rex continued to shake his head. On and on it went, all the way up his leg, until the doctor reached Rex's knee. Rex braced himself for pain.

The doctor prodded Rex's knee. Rex stared down, watching the doctor's every move. There was no pain.

Why don't I feel anything?

The doctor probed Rex's knee again, this time with more pressure. Rex shook his head.

"You can't feel that at all?" the doctor questioned, probing Rex's knee in another spot.

Rex's heart sank, "No."

The doctor tried a third spot, pressing down with more force.

Rex shook his head.

"Doc, may I?" Rex asked, putting his hand out for the probe.

"Certainly, Captain," the doctor handed over the probe. Rex actually liked this doctor. He was respectful, rather than condescending, and seemed competent, without being arrogant.

Rex began probing his scarred, misshapen knee. He might as well have been poking someone else's leg. He couldn't feel any of it.

He handed the probe back to the doctor, feeling his heart sink to the floor. Rex saw his plans to return to the Resolute and the 501st all evaporate away.

The doctor continued his examination. Rex sat completely silent as the doctor finished his exam, feeling completely deflated.

"Well, Captain," the doctor said, studying Rex's knee thoughtfully, "I'm going to schedule you for a new series of high-res nerve tissue scans today. I need to see how extensive this nerve damage is. The bacta was able to reverse some of the damage, but, it simply couldn't rewire all those complex nerve endings. The way things stand now, none of those signals are getting through at all. Tissue regenerated, but there doesn't seem to be a viable nerve pathway for any of that new tissue. Between the blunt force trauma, and the multiple light saber burns, you have extensive nerve damage. It may be irreversible. You may never regain any nerve feeling or use of this leg."

Rex just stared at the doctor, trying to absorb the impact of everything the doctor was telling him.

The doctor studied Rex's medical chart for a moment. "So, Captain, I see here from a rather strongly worded note in your file from the medical droid aboard the Resolute that you are against limb replacement?"

"Yes," Rex said, despondently, depressed that the conversation had once again come to this point. To think, he'd even imagined he would be going home once he came out of the bacta tank.

"Yes, you're OK with your leg being removed, or yes, you're against it?" the doctor asked, frowning at Rex.

"I'm against it," Rex said, his mind racing. If it came down to the choice between returning to his unit, or not returning to his unit, did it really matter if he kept his leg or not?

The doctor sighed, "You do understand the seriousness of your injury."

"Yes," Rex ground out, trying to keep his temper in check.

The doctor looked down at his data pad, then he put the data pad down. He put an arm on Rex's shoulder: "Son, it's a terrible thing to lose a limb. Nobody wants to do it. But, it won't change who you are."

Rex took a deep shuddering breath. He knew the doctor was right. It was much easier hearing this from a human, than from that medical droid who'd totally rubbed him the wrong way. "Yeah, I guess you're right," Rex said, staring down at his knee.

"That being said," the doctor continued, "truth be told, I'm not even sure if you're even a candidate for limb replacement anymore. So, it may not even be an issue, anymore.

Rex looked up in surprise.

The doctor gave Rex a friendly little pat on his good leg.

"Well, we won't decide anything now, OK? Let's give it a bit more time. Let's run the scans, see for sure how extensive all this nerve damage is... And, then let's just keep you here another week. Put you through some daily physical therapy. See if anything changes. Maybe you'll get some nerve feeling back."

"Doctor, how likely is that to happen?" Rex asked, his voice not quite sounding like his own.

The hesitation before the doctor responded told Rex all he needed to know. "Well, each case is unique, of course," the doctor responded, choosing his words carefully, "your case is especially unique because of this new clone-shredder munitions, so it's hard to say for sure."

The doctor's voice trailed off.

"Bottom line is that you just don't know?" Rex supplied.

The doctor gave Rex a friendly smile, "Let's just give it a bit more time, son, OK? So, I'll see you again in a week. We'll have you assigned to a bed in the Orthopedic unit. Just wait here. Someone will be along once we find a space for you. Good day, Captian."

The doctor nodded and left the room, datapad tucked under one arm.

After the doctor left, Rex just sat there, staring down at his misshapen limb.

He mentally ran through everything he'd been told. So, if I don't get nerve feeling back in one week, then what happens to me?

Rex wasn't sure. But, he did know that the Republic didn't keep around clones who couldn't fight anymore. Rex had never seen any. You were either fighting, preparing to fight, recovering from fighting, or dead. There was no retirement plan for permanently injured clones.

Rex ran a hand through his hair. His normally close-cropped hair had grown out during his two weeks floating in the bacta tank. His longer hair felt strange and unfamiliar under his fingertips. Everything about his life now felt that way.

Another week in Coruscant. I just want to get back where I belong. I want to go home.

# # #

Why does everything have to be so hard? Ahsoka thought miserably. She huddled in her homemade shelter, waiting out the rain. This had to be one of the most miserable engagements she'd ever been on.

OK, they'd been on a lot of tough engagements, but none had seemed as dreary as this one. Oh, she knew exactly what the difference was- the difference was wrapped up in white and blue armor, with a distinctive Jaig eyes visor, and he was no longer here. Ahsoka never realized what a difference one person could make to the entire mission until Rex was gone. The entire 501st seemed one beat off. Appo was a competent Commander, professional, polite, and followed regs to the letter, but he was no Captain Rex.

Gah. It's so boring around here now, Ahsoka sulked, using the force to pick up a rock, and fling it into a nearby mud puddle. It landed with a satisfying splash.

She wondered what Rex was doing.

# # #

The days crawled by with agonizing slowness for Rex. At first, he watched the HoloNews Net, hoping to catch at least a little glimmer of news on the 501st. But, none of the news mentioned the activities of his Legion, or even that of the 212th.

Not having had a chance to say goodbye to anybody before he'd been whisked away to ArmyMed, Rex hadn't had a chance to get the details on their new mission. He had much too much time on his hands to think, and it was driving him crazy. The rest of the war news that HNN covered was so sensationalized that he couldn't get any useful information out of it. He just ended up getting more and more annoyed as he listened. By the third day, he voluntarily banned himself from watching the holonet. The other vode there likely regarded him as a surly bastard, but he wasn't there to make friends. He just wanted to get his leg fixed and go home.

He'd decided he'd now do whatever it took to get out of ArmyMed and back to the Resolute. He still hated the idea of amputation, and losing part of himself, but he was willing to do it. Hearing things explained by the third doctor, the more kindly human one, had taken the sting and the stigma out of the idea. Rex realized it was a lot of his prejudice against droids that had made him so dead-set against the idea in the first place. He knew plenty of clones with prosthetics, and it certainly didn't change the way he felt about them. Granted, General Skywalker had a prosthetic arm, and that man was... well, two hyrdrospanners short of being totally insane. But, Rex suspected he would have been that way with or without the prosthetic arm, so that didn't count.

Rex restlessly wandered around ArmyMed on his crutches in search of something to do. He wasn't used to have time on his hands. He had physical therapy for two hours each morning, but after that, he had a whole day with time to kill. Truth be told, he wasn't very good at "down time." He discovered a well-equipped, barely-used, work out area. So, he passed the hours working out. He focused on working out his upper body, but also did as much lower body workouts as he could, without his injured leg getting in the way.

He ate as much as he could at mealtimes, trying to make up for the weight he'd lost on TriLuna. He didn't have much of an appetite, and he missed the company of his usual friends at mealtimes. But, he forced himself to eat. He knew if he lost any more weight, he didn't stand a chance of getting back into fighting form. He wasn't back at his normal weight yet, but he was able to put some weight back on. The continuous workouts were building muscle everywhere, except for his non-working leg. When Rex would take a break between sets of exercises, he would sometimes catch himself just sitting and staring at his leg. His whole future seemed wrapped up in that one limb. All his training, everything he'd ever worked for, and it all came down to this one injury.

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Rex sat on his bed, studying his armor, arranged in a orderly pile. Rex had already eaten his meals for the day, and exercised himself to exhaustion. Since he refused to watch the holonet, he didn't have much to do between now and bedtime. He'd made a habit of cleaning his weaponry and armor each day since he'd arrived. One of the staff, a Gungan, had made a big long speech to Rex about how he didn't feel it was proper to be cleaning a weapon in a hospital.

Rex gave him a look that said: "You've got to be kidding me?" Rex was sorely tempted to say: "There's a war on, di'kut! And, this is a military hospital!" But, he gritted his teeth, bit back his comment, and simply nodded his head instead. He'd already cleaned his weapondry multiple times anyway, and it hadn't been fired between cleanings. It wasn't going to get much cleaner.

Rex restrained himself from shooting the Gungan, which he felt showed remarkable restraint on his part. He reminded himself that this was a farkin' civilian and they weren't supposed to shoot them. Civvies simply didn't know any better.

So, that just left him his armor to clean, again and again. Now, the armor could actually get cleaner. His armor had taken such a beating over the past fourteen months of fighting. Rex wished he had some blue paint, so he could re-do his stripes, and the Jaig eyes. Rex stared down at the Jaig eyes, which were battered and scratched. One of the eyes was missing a big chunk of paint.

Battered, scratched and missing a chunk, just like me.

On his last night aboard the Resolute, Cody had dropped off Rex's gear, once all the singing had concluded. Everything Rex owned was in that one bag. When a clone was reassigned, even just to a medical facility, like Rex was, everything went with him. Not that "everything" amounted to a lot of stuff, but a clone could be redeployed at anytime. So, his as a matter of course, the gearbag, or "kit," came along, too. His shattered armor pieces weren't in there, since he'd passed those on to General Kenobi for study. Rex studied his armor as he carefully cleaned each piece. Either Cody, or his men in the 501st, had managed to quickly come up with replacement pieces for all of the leg armor Rex had lost, the cuisse, polyen and greave. But, they weren't even "shiny" pieces. The armor pieces were already striped blue, scuffed, scraped, scratched and beat-up in all the right places. They were a perfect match to his existing armor.

When Rex had first opened up his gear bag, he'd just stared at the replacement pieces of leg armor, trying to figure out where they'd all come from. With a pang, he suddenly realized the source of these perfect pieces of armor. It was tradition to keep a piece or two of armor from a brother who had passed on. Rex suspected the guys in the 501st had chipped in treasured pieces of armor from close buddies of theirs who had died. It made these pieces of armor so much more meaningful to Rex. For a brother to part with a piece of armor like that, a memento that was all they had left of someone who meant a great deal to them. He resisted the temptation to look inside the cuisse, poleyn and greave and check the ID numbers on them. He suspected they were all from brothers lost at Teth. He just wasn't ready yet to figure out which brothers. Rex found himself getting emotional as he stared at the pieces. He was glad that everyone at the hospital left him alone, and no one tried to socialize with him. Right now, he didn't want to talk to anyone. He had a great deal of emotions coursing through his system. Rex almost didn't want to clean these pieces, thinking it would be somehow wrong to alter these pieces in anyway. They would become a part of him, and he would honor the brothers that had once worn them, as well as the brothers who had given them to him.

It was when he was cleaning his culet, the butt plate, that he found the "hidden messages" from his brothers. In every place imaginable, all over the inside of the plate that protected his shebs, his vode had written messages, signed their names and made humorous drawings of each other. Every space inside the armor was covered. Rex re-read the "messages" every night now, and it was the thing that brought him the most comfort as he missed his brothers terribly. Reading these messages every night inspired him even more to want to get back to the 501st, where he belonged. The war had never been about the war to him. It had always been about his brothers.

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