Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize.


33. Moulee-rah Moocha

All clone battalions had barracks set up around the base of the Jedi Temple. The expansive plaza had been the only spot to erect so many structures on the already crowded surface of Coruscant. It allowed them good access to the airfield, as well as to the Temple where all their generals resided. Despite how spartan it looked, with its metal buildings set in neat rows, it was endowed with a special kind of life. Troopers had taken to decorating the exteriors of their barracks, tagging them with their battalion numbers and letting those who were more artfully inclined to paint murals. Doors were often open, with men lounging on the steps and in the doorframe. They'd laugh to soothe the pain of war, gripe about bantha-shit orders they'd received, and share stories of the fallen. Certain barracks also served multiple purposes; some became barber shops, others a spot to drop off armor to be painted, and some clones had even taken up tattooing businesses.

Elara moved through the camp, and troopers addressed her with a nod and a respectful 'general' as they passed. Others stopped, saluted, waited for her to acknowledge, and then went on their way once she smiled at them. When she started to pass through the part of camp where the 442nd was berthed, she started to hear singing. It was accompanied by a hollow tapping, which provided a rhythmic beat beneath it. She stopped and listened for a moment, smiling gently to herself. After a moment of brief contemplation, Elara stepped off the main through-way, and wove in between the barracks. Eventually she came upon the source of the singing. Klick sat in the doorway of his barracks, his helmet wedged between his knees. He was tapping it in a jaunty cadence, and he led some of the members of Contigo Squadron in a rousing battle tune.

Sat on the ground, Gunney was scrubbing at pieces of his armor, and appeared to be muttering the song more than singing it. His lips barely moved, but his head bobbed in such a way that betrayed he enjoyed the song. Beside him was Strafer, who sang enthusiastically while touching up the markings on his helmet with green paint. And then there was Blinker, who was sorting through a crate of blaster gas. They all were calm. They were relaxing. And that caused Elara's smile to grow. They'd had two days to do nothing, and it was doing them a lot of good. They were all out of armor, which was a rare sight in itself. Sometimes it seemed like it was fused to their skin. The song finished with Klick rapidly slapping the top of his helmet, and all the men held out the final note. They dissolved into playful laughter, with Strafer nudging Gunney and telling him he should sing louder. The latter's response was to roll his eyes––but he smirked, too.

Elara clapped her hands, positively beaming, which finally announced her presence.

"You'll have to teach me that one," she said.

The men looked up, surprised that they'd had an audience, but then grinned when they saw who it was. Flick tapped the helmet one last time and then wagged a finger in her direction.

"You got it, sir! Next time you join us for a drink, I'll get all the lads to help you learn it," he agreed.

"Yes, speaking of drinks––Anakin's had the brilliant idea that he and I teach some of you some drinking games from the Outer Rim. He was particularly interested in pitting Rex against Acks," Elara mentioned, an eyebrow arched.

A throaty laugh left Strafer's mouth, and he looked up from his painting work. There was a streak of green paint across his cheek, and the fingertips of his left hand were covered in the stuff.

"Oh, we'll show the 501st who's got better stamina!" he chortled. He held out an elbow to Gunney who, surprisingly, chuckled and lifted his own elbow to bump his brother's.

"You tell us when and where, and we'll be there," agreed Klick with a lopsided grin. "And we've got an advantage!"
"Oh?" Elara chuckled.

"Yeah, we've got the better General Skywalker."

"Oh, stop it."

"Never!" Blinker proclaimed dramatically. "We shall defend your honor at all possible costs, Genny."

"That's a terrible nickname, Blinker," Gunney deadpanned.

"I thought it was rather good."

"Are we needed, General?" asked Ack-Ack, who rounded the corner carrying a crate in his hands. His brows were furrowed in concern, and a seriousness had already overtaken his face. The question seemed to spur the other men to realize that her arrival could very well mean they were about to ship out. Klick sat forward in the doorway, arms draped over his helmet, waiting intently.

"Oh, no, no!" Elara waved her hands through the air with a laugh. "No, you all get to rest for a while longer; only I've been called away. I was on my way to my starfighter, and I heard the singing, so––I decided to swing by."

They all seemed to relax, nodding thankfully at knowing they'd get more recuperation time. Those who'd been busying themselves returned to their tasks, though they glanced up now and again, willfully dividing their attention. Ack-Ack opened his crate, which was packed with power packs. He nodded at what Elara had said, but his lips remained pursed.

"You sure you don't need back up? 'Cause we can be ready to go as soon as you need us," he reassured.

Beside him, Blinker let out a dramatic groan. His head dropped back before he snapped it upright, and he gestured at Elara with a hand laden with blaster gas tubes. "She just said we can keep resting." Ack-Ack shot him an unamused look, and the jester of the squadron cleared his throat and went back to sorting canisters. "But, uh, yeah, we can be ready whenever you need us."

A smile split across Elara's face, but she shook her head. "I'll be alright. General Shaak Ti called in a favor, and it sounds like something I can handle alone."

The mention of Shaak Ti had all of the men's heads snapping up again. They shared sidelong glances and a seriousness overtook their previously jovial faces.

"You're headed to Kamino?" asked Strafer.

"Is everything alright?" added Gunney.

Shaak Ti oversaw the training of all clone troopers on Kamino. Every clone that was currently active duty, and ever trooper that would enter active duty, had interacted with the Jedi a handful of times. It was then that Elara realized her mistake; another Jedi being asked to Kamino hinted at trouble. And if there was any trouble that involved their inexperienced brothers, they were going to want in on it. So she shook her head emphatically, and schooled her expression into something more serious.

"Everything's just fine. There's just a squad of troopers that they want me to observe. They're questioning how to proceed with their training, and Shaak Ti wants a second opinion. Apparently I have a reputation for handling rowdy individuals with ease," she joked.

Visible relief seemed to settle over them, but they didn't go back to their activities as they previously did. It was Blinker who officially broke through the last of the lingering seriousness. He placed a hand on his hip, and pointed at Elara with another canister; his eyes were narrowed playfully.

"Okay, now, who're you callin' rowdy?" he asked, faux-offended.

"She's talkin' bout you, y'rakeweed," Klick drawled, a hand reaching out to bat him in the arm. Strafer snorted and hid a laugh behind his hand.

"I think she's talkin' 'bout all of you," Ack-Ack snarked with a smirk.

Indignant exclamations went up like 'oh, c'mon, Cap!' and 'I'm a model soldier, thank you.'

"Actually," Elara chuckled, "I was referring to my brother, but I guess some of you might qualify." It was then that her eyes fell on the armor that Gunney was working on. There was a gouge in one of the rerebraces, and despite its owner's meticulous cleaning, it was still burned at the edges. With brows furrowing, all signs of amusement gone, Elara stepped forward and pointed a finger at it. "Can I see that Gunney?"

"Uh… yeah, sure." He picked it up off the ground and handed it up to her.

Once the piece of plastoid-alloy was in her hand, she slipped a finger into the gouge. It was wide and deep enough for her to fit her whole finger into it. "Are you… are you going to keep wearing this?" she asked.

"Yes, sir. We haven't gotten any replacement armor."

"None? Since when?"

"Before Christophsis, sir," Ack-Ack chimed in. "Supply says that production and shipments are slow."

Elara gaped at him, and then back down at the rerebrace. It would take exactly one more hit, and then it would break completely; and in its breaking, it would surely injure its wearer. She shook her head, thrown by what Ack-Ack had just informed her of. Whenever any of her armor––or the armor of any Jedi––was compromised, it was replaced relatively rapidly once requested. Her lips thinned out in displeasure, and she handed the rerebrace back to Gunney. With shoulders squared, she turned to her captain with a look that had him snapping to attention.

"Captain, I want an inventory of damaged armor taken across the 442nd. Once you've got the numbers, put in a request for replacements from the head of supply––and tell them that I've authorized a rush on it. Then I'll have a word with them about seeing that everyone gets replacement armor in a more timely fashion," Elara assured.

"Yes, General, I'll get right on it," Ack-Ack replied. Though he sounded and looked the picture of a professional soldier, the corners of his mouth had lifted enough to show his smile lines.

"Excellent. Thank you, Captain." She turned to the rest of the gathered men and nodded to them, hands moving to clasp behind her back. They were all staring at her appreciatively, grins and smirks pulling at their lips. "Gentlemen––rest up, you deserve it."

"Have a safe trip, sir," Strafer replied.

Elara smiled and nodded her thanks, and she turned to take her leave. And as she rounded the corner of the barracks, she heard,

"Now that… that's our general."

OOOO

The trip to Kamino had been short. It had lasted two days, and though she hadn't been in a combat zone, found that she'd been fighting anyway. And not against Separatist forces, or against Sith and their apprentices––she'd been fighting for a squad of clones to be given a second chance. Domino Squad was filled with personalities; and ones that butted heads more often than not. One of their teachers thought they should be relegated to maintenance duty, the other thought they could make it. Shaak Ti had been the middle-ground, and had invited Elara to give her opinion as someone who had practical experience with the clones. Ultimately, they'd failed their final test. And with Elara's urging, they were given a second chance. She cited that, very often, those with unorthodox methods won the day out in the field. Whenever they were up against a wall, it wasn't protocol that got them out; it was resilience and creativity. And she'd told Domino Squad as much. And after some contention the night prior to their re-take––they passed.

Elara hoped to see them out on the field one day. There was still training for them to do, but they were going to be Grade A troopers––she just knew it.

Upon her return to Coruscant, she found herself immediately swept into one of Anakin's schemes. He had orchestrated a night out the day that she returned, excited to squeeze in some fun before they had to ship out again. Such was how they found themselves at a cantina in Galactic City, watching their captains play a popular game played in the cantinas of Tatooine––Moulee-rah Moocha. They were currently embroiled in their third round, both of them tied for the winning position.

Rex and Ack-Ack stared one another down with hearty intensity. It was the kind of stare that dared the other to look away; but with intently narrowed eyes, neither clone captain seemed ready to budge. They were separated by a table, the surface of which was sticky despite the cantina's location being in the more reputable Upper Coruscant. Each of them had an arm extended before them––Rex's right, and Ack-Ack's left––and a credit rested atop either of their clenched fists. Their arms wove a little in the air, and every now and again one of them would roll their shoulder to loosen it. Around them, the cantina was alight with life, thrumming with music and laughter––but none of that mattered to them. They were locked in an intense, silent battle, and neither of them would break till that battle was won.

"I bet Rex'll get it," Anakin said, tone cocksure. He sat reclined back against the bench he and his captain were both seated on, his arms crossed over his chest. There was a crooked smirk on his face, which was leveled at the woman across from him.

"C'mon, I can see his arm shaking––Acks has got it this time," Elara contested. She arched a brow and darted her eyes at the slight lowering of Rex's arm, and the way the golden credit trembled on the back of his hand. She hid a quietly pleased smile into the rim of her glass.

Anakin clucked his tongue and pulled a hissed breath in through his teeth, wincing. There was a pinkess to his cheeks, lent by the drink in his hand. "I dunno, Lari… I can see Ack-Ack's mouth twitching."

"Pure concentration, that's what that is."

And as was the nature of the game, they had an audience. Men from the 501st and the 442nd stood behind the bench of their respective captain and general. None of them would turn down the chance to pit their commanding officers against each other; a bit of friendly competition between battalions never hurt. In fact, it even ratcheted up morale. Bets were placed with an impartial party, Waxer, a member of the 212th, who had been chosen as bookie. They'd offered the position to Cody, who claimed that he was a biased party, and then contentedly sat himself beside Obi-Wan at the foot of the small table. So the job had gone to Waxer, who sat at the end of the table and watched the captains' every twitch.

Behind Rex, a smirking trooper playfully narrowed his eyes at troopers across from him.

"Nah, Rex's got it," he predicted.

Strafer, who'd leaned his forearms on the back of the tall bench Ack-Ack and Elara were seated on, shook his head with a grin. He pointed to his captain with the hand that didn't clutch a frosted glass of juri juice.

"You kidding? Acks is gonna win this one," Strafer rebutted. He then made a face as he lifted his drink to his mouth. "He better, I've got credits on 'im…"

They all turned their attention back to Rex and Ack-Ack, who seemed utterly unperturbed by all the chatter. Elara watched as the corners of Rex's eyes tightened. His nostrils flared. His mouth tightened as he stiffly rolled his shoulder, which caused the credit on top of his hand to wobble.

"What's the name of this game again?" asked Obi-Wan. His voice was low and his gaze carefully contemplative, as though he worried his speaking and looking might interrupt the flow of the game.

"Moulee-rah Moocha," Elara murmured, leaning towards him. The Huttese phrase dropped from her mouth with an accent unslandered by alcohol. "Or Moul Moo if you want to abbreviate it. Roughly translated it means 'money stealer'; it originated on Tatooine, which I'm sure is a shock."

A chuckle rumbled in Obi-Wan's chest, though there was a darker look in his eyes at the mention of the desert planet. Ever since they'd returned, any mention of Tatooine had him frowning in displeasure.

"Oh, yes, certainly," he drawled.

"Half the cantinas on the planet like to lay claim that they are the spot where the game originated from. It's very popular. It practically becomes a spectator sport once a game gets going."

Obi-Wan glanced at the enraptured men around them. The disheartened look he'd taken on at the mention of Tatooine warmed into something fonder. None of these men had done much smiling as of late; and it would seem that it was doing everyone some good to see them happier. "I can tell," he chuckled. His eyes then dropped back to Rex and Ack-Ack, both of whom were breathing a little heavier than before, their arms wobbling and wavering more noticeably. "Is it always one credit? Or can the stakes be raised?"

"There's a higher risk version, yeah," Anakin confirmed, leaning his elbows on the table. He pointed to the captains' clenched fists. "One credit––there's always one credit on the back of your hand. But if you wanna up the ante, you put whatever you're betting on the table. Doesn't have to be money."

"Some bounty hunters put their quarries in as bets; especially if they're quarreling with another hunter about who gets it," Elara elaborated. "But people use this game to bet anything and everything, really. Doesn't even have to be palpable, people bet chores, errands… kids even play it with rocks."

"Start them off early, hm?" Obi-Wan hummed, brow vaulting.

"It's Tatooine––what do you expect?" Anakin deadpanned, taking a long pull of his drink.

Before their good moods could be dampened by thoughts of Tatooine, their conversation was interrupted by Rex hissing as his arm wobbled sharply with the failure of strength. The credit toppled off the back of his hand and clattered to the tabletop.

"Damn!" Rex hissed, his fist dropping beside the credit.

"Yes!" cried Blinker from the back of the 442nd crowd. His hand shot up and sent his drink sloshing over the edge––and right onto Gunney's head.

"Uck, really, Blinker?" he groaned. He glared at his brother, who had winced, wide-eyed, and clasped a hand over his mouth. With an exaggerated, scrunched look, Blinker pulled his hand away and murmured a 'sorry.'

Ack-Ack allowed himself a satisfied chuckle as some of his men reached out to pat his shoulders or ruffle his dark auburn hair. With a flick of his wrist, he cast his own credit into the air, caught it, and wiggled it triumphantly.

"I've pulled ahead of you now," he teased.

"Yeah, yeah, just gimme the drink," Rex harrumphed with a good natured smirk. Simultaneously, he slid the credit across the table, and Ack-Ack pushed his shot of spotchka over. The captain of the 501st grimaced at the two shot glasses in front of him. "Great. Spotchka and keela, that's always a good mix…"

Anakin, with a sigh, reached out and thumped Rex on the back. His expression remained mostly serious, but there was a playful uptick to the corner of his mouth.

"You're a good man."

"I'm about to be a very sick man…" And with that––and a grimace––Rex threw back one shot, quickly thrown by the other. He shuddered as the alcohols mixed in his stomach, and members of his battalion shouted their encouragement.

"You sure you came straight from Kamino, Acks? 'Cause you're playing it as straight faced as any bounty hunter I ever saw play on Tatooine," chuckled Elara. Ack-Ack quirked an amused eyebrow at her as he placed his credits beside the first pair he'd won.

"A complement of the highest regard; but, no, sir, I'm afraid not," he said with a grin.

What Elara had come to realize that evening, it was that Ack-Ack's playful side came out after a few drinks. He was smirking more, smiling more, making a good showcase of the creases at the corners of his eyes. It was nice to see him without the stress of a battle weighing his shoulders down. To see him––and all of the men, really––out of their armor, wearing civvies and having a chance to relax for once. They deserved this. They really, really did; Elara only wished that this moment could extend further, last longer. She knew that, come tomorrow, they'd likely be zipping off into space in pursuit of another fight. They had, afterall, received a tip regarding General Grievous. All they needed was a confirmation of the credibility of the source, and then they were off. But they still had the night, and they were going to make the most of it.

"So, who's up next?" Klick asked, leaning over to snatch his won money from Waxer.

"Ohh!" Blinker yelped excitedly. He pushed his way forward, drink held aloft so as not to repeat the Gunney incident of a few minutes ago. Drinking made him dramatic, it would seem. Once he'd gotten everyone's attention, he let a thoroughly dramatic pause linger in the air, perhaps for a moment too long. He then clapped a hand against his leg and pointed at Elara. "Genny versus Genny!"

"Genny?" Obi-Wan drawled, amused at the trooper's enthusiasm.

"General versus General," Gunney translated. His disgruntled attitude from being spilled on had waned some, but there was still a pinch between his brows.

"What about Skywalker versus Skywalker?" a trooper suggested from the throng. There was an enthusiastic consensus from members of both the 442nd and the 501st, who loved to jokingly compare the sibling generals, each claiming they had 'the best Skywalker.'

"Or, and hear me out––" Strafer butt in and held out a hand. "Skywalker versus Kenobi."

This option captured curious interest, and heads started nodding.

"Which Skywalker?"

"The 442nd's own General, of course!" Strafer slapped an encouraging hand on Elara's shoulder.

Elara looked back at him with an amused look, and then turned her attention to Obi-Wan. He stared at the trooper with surprised incredulity. It was clear that he'd been content to sit on the side and observe, nursing his own drink with measured, gentlemanly sips. His eyes then dropped to Elara's and she offered him a questioning look––will you do it?

"C'mon, Obi-Wan," Anakin half drawled and half chuckled. He'd slouched back in his seat with arms folded over his chest, grinning boyishly at his former master. "When's the next chance we're gonna get to have some fun?"

There was a pause, in which Obi-Wan glanced back over at Elara with an unreadable look. He then looked back at the table and the assembled troopers, who were waiting for his answer with baited breath. After all, it wasn't every day that Obi-Wan Kenobi might let loose a little. It was even remarkable to see him bathed in the purple-pink neon glow of the cantina at all. He'd always been very, very composed before his men. This, to them––especially to gathered members of the 212th––could be a once in a lifetime opportunity. Obi-Wan hummed under his breath quietly. One of his hands retreated to his mouth, and his fingers started to tap at his lips.

"I'm not sure," he murmured. "We'll likely be called away tomorrow, and I'd like to be… clear minded."

Anakin clucked his tongue, clearly displeased by the––typically Obi-Wan––response, and turned a pleading gaze on his sister. "Lari, you're with me on this one right?"

Elara held her brother's gaze for a lingering moment, and then shifted it to the eagerly waiting troopers. There were times she was wont to agree with Obi-Wan. Keeping a clear head in these times was paramount; the slightest distraction––like a throbbing headache––could mean disaster. But the Christophsis campaign had really taken it out of her. The idea of unwinding for just a night was incredibly tempting. The idea of fun had been foreign to her for quite some time now, and even getting a taste of it reminded her how much she'd missed it. It was a chance to forget the horrors they'd have to return to come morning. A chance to celebrate camaraderie and friendship and family.

So, with a beautiful amount of poise, Elara started to root around in a pouch on her belt. She placed two credits down on the table and angled a cheeky smirk over at Obi-Wan. "You wouldn't want to let the 212th down, would you?" she asked. With the guise of innocence, she shrugged her shoulders and folded her hands primly in her lap.

Members of the 442nd 'oo'ed and snickered, shouldering one another at their commanding officer's quip. Men from the 212th prodded their general with encouraging words. Cody rolled his eyes, but folded his arms over his chest and made himself comfortable.

Slowly, Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side, eyes burning into Elara's. She kept her expression coy, and maintained his heated gaze. And that shared look didn't break, not even as he slowly rose to his feet and set down his drink. Obi-Wan tugged on the front of his tunic to straighten it, and then shifted around to take a seat beside Anakin, who grinned in eagerly. He and Rex scooted down along the bench, and an excited tittering rippled among the gathered troopers. This was going to be something to see––of the three generals present, Obi-Wan and Elara were, perhaps, the most collected. This––this was going to be interesting.

"Two credits each then?" Obi-Wan asked, pointedly flicking his gaze to the money Elara had extricated. He looked back up, eyebrow vaulted coolly, as though he'd betted on a game like this a thousand other times. There was a gentle amusement twinkling in his eyes, but his face was the perfect mask of diplomacy, as he so often used in negotiations.

"Two credits each," she confirmed with a crooked smile.

"Very well." He reached into a pouch and withdrew the same amount.

The two small glasses were refilled with spotchka and placed in front of either Jedi, who'd yet to give up their already intense staring match. Elara wordlessly slid one credit to sit beside the glass, and Obi-Wan echoed the movement. She curled her right hand into a fist and placed the other credit atop it, and he mirrored the action with his left. Anakin gave the countdown in the traditional Huttese:

"Bo. Dopa. Duba! (One. Two. Three!)"

And both parties lifted their arms.

Somehow, holding Obi-Wan's gaze suddenly became more intense. Where it had been coy before, something about it became distinctly more heated. Perhaps it was the competitive aspect. Staring one's opponent in the eye was part of the game; but this felt different. Even if Elara had wanted to look away, she wouldn't have been able to. Obi-Wan had completely arrested her gaze with his own. He'd locked her in place, and trapped her in what felt like a secondary game, the rules of which she did not know.

"Is one allowed to play dirty?" Obi-Wan questioned after a minute of silence.

A slow smile crawled its way across Elara's face. "I don't think you know how to be dirty, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Obi-Wan's response, backed by chuckles and hooting from the men, was to lift a slow, teasing eyebrow. "I shall have to make a showcase of my dirtier skills some other time, my dear. Allow us, then, to keep this game clean."

The riotous, amused laughter from the troopers––and the handful of ribald comments about being 'dirty'––and Anakin's brotherly groaning did nothing to distract her. But the use of 'my dear' did. It had Elara's heart hiccuping, her chest flinching as her breath caught on itself. It struck her then that Obi-Wan had an advantage over her, simply because of the effect that he had on her. How the slip of two words sent her heart stumbling. How it was easy for her to get lost and distracted in the blueness of his eyes. Of how the inch of distance between their closed fists seemed to crackle with unnamed energy. It had her at a disadvantage because there was no possible way that he was faced with the same issues while looking at her.

Staring at Obi-Wan had become something of a reprieve as of late. In the heat of battle, as explosions shook the ground and debris fell around them like rain, his eyes became a refuge. The cool blues of them were always calm. They offered solace in a slew of chaos. With a single glance, he could convey a plan, or offer assurance. And, of course, it was impossible not to think of the lingering looks they shared, which grew more weighty every time. Elara often felt like she could drown in those looks––in his eyes. It took everything she had to keep herself afloat, and it only got harder and harder. And she could feel herself getting suckered into that feeling again. It arose in the form of that pull in her stomach, which left her wanting to lean over the table towards him. Obi-Wan may have stated that he wasn't going to play dirty; and yet he was, without knowing it.

Because those eyes were going to destroy her.

They were going to whittle at her––already thin––resolve, like a knife striking against wood. They threatened to dismantle her in the most brilliantly pleasant way; and every day she found herself more willing to surrender to it. Drowning in his eyes would be a better way to die than getting a blaster bolt to the head.

And yet––Elara couldn't let herself go down that path. Not was it, first and foremost, forbidden, but it was incredibly dangerous. She'd clocked Obi-Wan as trouble the moment he first smiled at her; and it wasn't until very recently she realized how genuinely dangerous he was. Obi-Wan was a man of marvelous contradictions. He was a remarkable warrior, with skills few to none could match, but he preferred to negotiate. A man who used his words for diplomacy, despite the languid poetry he could paint with nothing but his voice. He was renowned amongst his peers for being the epitome of the perfect Jedi, with level headed platitudes and an unwavering demeanor. And yet… Elara had seen his eyes fill with tears. Heard fleeting instances of emotional bias fall from his mouth. Felt the comfort he proffered through a simple touch of the back… and the brush of his fingers against her tear-streaked cheeks. Obi-Wan Kenobi was the ultimate Jedi, but he was still a man; he was both. And that made things very difficult.

It felt as though Obi-Wan was stood at the end of two separate paths, and she was being forced to choose one over the other. One path was straight and narrow––the one that she was supposed to stay on. Where she and him were only comrades and friends, operating under the constraints of the Code, with a careful distance between them. The other path curved and twisted, offering something exciting and new and beautiful. It was the path that had been tempting her with the promise of the heat of his touch, the brilliance of his smile, and something more intimate that she was not at all privy to. The first path seemed colder. Less friendly. The second seemed to welcome her with open arms.

Elara didn't want to venture down either.

The first path felt, to her, like where their relationship had been when they'd first met: tentative and distant. The second meant shattering the Code by breaking it over her knee. Right now, they seemed to be on another trail entirely. One that was confused and zig-zagged between the other two options. It had them playing a game of subtlety. A game of seemingly innocuous touches, lingering gazes, and lilting words. It was maddening because Elara so desperately wanted it to be more, but it couldn't be more.

Elara had fallen hopelessly into something she daren't name. Because naming it would give it power, and that power would give her hope. But that hope would rely on this whole mess being reciprocated; which it surely wouldn't be. All thoughts of further pursuing anything romantic in nature was a dream. Romance and intimacy had always been dream-like to her. A far-off thing that looked so rosy and beautiful, but was always as distant as Tatooine's suns. But now… now it felt like it was within reach, a hair's breadth away from her fingertips. She could feel its warmth against her skin, and she wanted to grasp it tight and never let it go––but she wasn't allowed to. She couldn't. It was forbidden by the Code, and Obi-Wan would surely never stand for it.

The thought––fleeting and cold––zinged through Elara's chest sharp, and swift. It caused her to bodily flinch a little, which sent the credit wobbling atop the back of her hand. There was a reaction from the crowd of troopers, but it sounded garbled and dull in her ears. She'd forgotten that she'd been playing a game; she had been too focused on the silent, unnoticed game she had been playing with her own heart.

Her heart.

It was the thing that would damn her, but the thing that she couldn't think to ignore. Elara had been taught to love fiercely; for that was often all the Skywalker family had. Love. They were predisposed to the thing that could prove to be their downfall. And even with that knowledge, she couldn't picture a life without it. The galaxy would be a much colder place. That was what Shmi had always said––that the galaxy would be a much colder place if no one was kind to one another. If no one loved one another. What were the Jedi meant to be if not kind? They were peacekeepers, which surely meant that they must care for the galaxy and those who lived in it. They were kind to those that they protected. So did that not mean that Jedi, despite their vehement ban on attachments, were predisposed to love, too?

The question struck her so suddenly, and so hard, that the muscles in Elara's arm finally gave way. It thunked to the table, and the credit skittered to the sticky tabletop. A raucous burst of sound startled her out of her reverie, and her eyes snapped away from Obi-Wan, effectively severing their gaze. A deep breath rushed into her lungs, replacing one that she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"'S'alright, Genny!" Blinker assured. She turned to find him leaned over the back of the bench with a lopsided grin. He flapped a wobbly hand and sputtered a dismissive sound. "We know you were goin' easy on 'im; you were bein' nice and gave 'im a warm-up round!"

Even the jokester's dramatic gesturing couldn't return Elara's previously jovial mood to what it had been.

"C'mon, Lari, pay up!" Anakin beamed from the other side of the table.

Elara first met her brother's eyes, and found him grinning with all the boyish snark of a little brother. He quirked his brows pointedly and chuckled deep in his throat. She then reluctantly let her eyes slip back to Obi-Wan's. He was smiling lopsidedly, proud for having won the round. Stars, that smile… that dangerous, beautiful smile. Her gaze briefly dropped before she cleared her throat and lifted it once more; his smile had dropped some, and his head had tilted to the side, curious.

"Fair is fair. Congratulations." Elara slid her credits over to Obi-Wan, and then drew his shot glass towards herself. She managed a convincingly cocky smirk, and she lifted the glass to toast to him. "Beginner's luck."

There was a brief delay before Obi-Wan's smile grew again. But there was something in his eyes… something that wasn't wholly convinced by her smirk. So Elara brought the glass to her lips and threw back the alcohol inside it, effectively hiding the curve of her lips. The second quickly followed, and both glasses were placed upside down on the table. At the rapidness with which the shots were drunk, the disappointed sighs from the 442nd turned into proud little cheers; and that warmed her heart, which desperately absorbed it. Contemplating her misgivings about the state of her heart had left it cold. Overall, the warming buzz of the alcohol seemed to have been negated by her troubling thoughts, which left her feeling a little chilled. It left her wishing that she'd brought her robe along, or that she'd be bold enough to ask one of the troopers for one of their discarded jackets. Instead, she contented herself to hug her elbows in her hands, plaster a smile on her face, and try to seem unaffected by the riotous thoughts in her head.

It wasn't often that Elara meditated on the fact that she was a 'Chosen One.' The phrase had always turned her stomach, and she still didn't see how she could be 'chosen.' But it was moments like this that she couldn't stop thinking about it. The prophecy stated that she and Anakin were meant to bring balance to the Force; and that surely meant they were supposed to maintain a particular relationship with it, right? It meant they, more so than any other Jedi, couldn't give into temptations, no matter how promising they might look. They were supposed to stay on that straight, narrow path that felt so cold and lonely, a path that Elara believed even Obi-Wan didn't tread perfectly. It was expected for them not to form attachments to those they fought beside, lived beside, laughed beside, those that had become their family. It was that, or either sever or alter any attachments that already formed to prevent them from 'worsening.' Elara had yet to be asked to do so, but she had been told to be wary of her own brother; and she knew she needed to be mindful of Obi-Wan.

And there was a dreadful foreboding growing in the pit of her stomach that warned something was going to happen. Something… that would alter things irreparably, and that drastic measures would be taken to patch the damage. Elara feared the worst outcome––that she and someone she loved would have to turn their backs on one another. All for the sake of the Code. All for the sake of a dusty, convoluted prophecy.

If there wasn't already a reason to loathe being 'Chosen,' this certainly was one.


Afterword: I mention the events of 'Clone Cadets' in this chapter, but did not detail them. 'Rookies' will start next chapter, and we'll probably get to start 'ARC Troopers,' too. In a genuinely serious question to you all––

How do you all feel about the 'Review Reply' section?

It's been brought to my attention it's been getting kinda long lately. Is it too long? A pain to scroll through? Would you prefer I start answering reviews through PMs and only guest reviews in the post-script? Keep it? I know that it's gotten longer ('cause I ramble too much, and that's a me problem), but I'll try to be more concise till I get a grasp on what people might want out of it. Till then…

Review Replies:

DCDGojira: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

MsRosePetal: And now Elara's acknowledging that there's something… the danger grows! The breaking point approaches. Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

turtlethewriter: The issue of attachment is probably one of the biggest themes for this story. Because as Jedi during the waning years of the Order, the views on that start to change. And as Jedi… falling in love is so against everything they're supposed to believe is right. I'm so glad that you're enjoying it! The whole Tuskens thing is truly a nightmare that is going to follow Elara for the rest of her life. Truly. I have such plans for RotS… such plans… And I'm really, really happy that you're enjoying the fleshing out of the characters! I'm a sucker for character development, and figuring out how that development occurs. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I always love hearing your thoughts about the new updates! Thank you so much!

Pinnney: I love writing Obi-Wan's POV! It's a delightful challenge; and this time around, we got Elara's view on similar thoughts… I'm also glad Palps was suitably creepy. I find him difficult to write, 'cause he walks such a thin line of… creepy and despicable. And Elara dual wielding… as she said, not her usual approach, but we might see it some time! The war is only beginning. She's pretty traditional with her forms, but I have characters for other SW stories that have drastically different approaches to combat. And ahh, the list! I love it! A couple of my favorite chapters are in there. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much!

MotherAiya: Elara and Ahsoka are gonna have such a fun, unique relationship! I can't wait to write more of it. And the Force Bond… it's certainly gonna serve them well, and be a detriment in others. They've reached a point where they're hiding things from one another… and that connection's gonna make it obvious when something's wrong. And, yeah, poor Elara worries a lot; even when she's just trying to have some fun, it sneaks up on her right quick. Palps calling her "my dear girl" just felt… right. It's i c k y, but I can just hear him saying it. As you said––cockraod ass man, indeed. I am SO GLAD you remembered that they're still betrothed. Keep that in mind. And all I'm saying is that Elara's definitely preserved that snow blossom he gave her somehow… I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much!

weasleylover10: I'm a deeply empathetic person, so getting the chance to deep-dive and write things like Obi-Wan's POV last chapter, and Elara at the end of this one––it's a treat. I think that they're borderline aversion to recognizing these feelings is very important to the development of their relationship. And Palps… he knows everything and it's terrible. And he only gets worse. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much!

Vanafindiel: If Elara fell too… that would be… such a tragedy for Obi-Wan. It would be genuinely the worst thing I could do to that man in this story… and it's definitely something that he'll come to fear, at some point. And what Elara does in the time between Ep. III and IV has changed as recently as… last week. With the confirmation of the Kenobi series, I've done a severe re-work of what I'd been planning. With the confirmation of the show (despite not knowing what's gonna happen) has cleared up some logistical things for me. The Force Bond certainly makes the possibility of her staying on Tatooine difficult… and I have plans. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much! (also, glad to see you on tumblr!)

RJNorth: The addressing of the Force Bond was something I was itching to do. 'Cause it's very important to the way that their dynamic is going to shift and change as TCWs continue. Especially as Ani starts going darker and darker. And Elara's suspicion of Palps has always been interesting to write. 'Cause I'm like 'I know he's bad… but she doesn't know, she just thinks something weird is goin' on,' so I'm trying not to make it too meta. I've also been contemplating whether or not to drop some subtle hints about his family, 'cause… RoS really gave that to us, didn't it? And that tea date might not have been what you described yetbut it can certainly be that. These two dorks definitely have romantic, intimate tea dates where they, like… read to one another and snuggle and I can't wait. I have a literal list of things that both Obi-Wan and Elara associate with one another, so it was fun to finally address the flower thing. And the fact she knows how he takes his tea. They're dorks and I love them. Also… the Tusken thing… boy howdy, that's gonna be a thing when/if she tells Obi-Wan about it. And in the last week, I've been thinking more and more about my other two planned stories… and I'm very excited to connect it all together. I've been thinking a lot about the Poe story… I'm very eager to get to it. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much! And may the Force be with you!

Eomy: I truly invented Moulee-rah Moocha and its full history for this chapter. I have a bullet pointed list about variations and how it was invented in my planning document. It feels like a genuinely feasible game that I would like to actually play. The Force Bond is going to be popping up more and more, now that they know about it and are working with it. You mentioned it breaking hearts… and it just might. Palps always creeps his way into things when least expected… and wanted. Whatta guy… whatta very creepy guy. And I have plans for the first kiss. I've been enjoying reading people theorizing about who's gonna make the first move and such, it's great. I can't wait to get that chapter out… And it's totally cool for you to ask about a Mandalorian story! I… am developing something for a potential story. I'm figuring out what kind of character would work with the story line and such… but I do so love Din. He deserves some lovin'. (also, I see no mistakes in your sentences, they're all great!) I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much!

Malir Bly: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

LadyBasara: I took a wee longer time for this chapter, but I'm still very happy I've been getting stuff out pretty quick! And yes I wholly agree they didn't do Poe (and so many other characters) enough justice. I love getting to dig into characters for my stories, and I can't wait to do that with him. And I'm really happy that, despite not having watched the show, you're following the Clone Wars chapters! I didn't watch the show till… a couple months ago, and I love it. The Bond will definitely be a big deal with Anakin going Vader. It can go… so badly. And, yes… something very similar is developing between Elara and Obi-Wan, isn't it? :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much!

09sasha: I love a good reprieve for romance, and their tea 'date' was something I loved writing. I fully believe that in a modern context, Obi-Wan would have lots of plants. And Elara would probably work at a flower nursery. I come from a garden-nerd family, so I love plants and flowers and botanical symbolism. Obi-Wan and Elara will be saving one another equally! Just think of all the playful banter that'll come from it… I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much!

Guest: Hi! Firstly, thank you so much, I'm really happy you've been enjoying the story! Secondly, in regards to this section of replies––it's something I've always just… done in-chapter. I will admit, the sections for this story have gotten longer in recent chapters. I have considered replying through PMs, but then that would leave out Guest reviewers, so there'd still be a section. And people have mentioned they like reading other people's reviews/replies. But I'm looking into ways to make it more concise, or whether people want direct PMs. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thank you so much!

camelotprincess1: This chapter originally was going to lead into "Rookies," but I thought… let's have one more chapter of respite. They deserve it. I also wish we'd seen more down time canonically, 'cause I'm like… the clones have gotta have… clothes. What do they wear when they're not in their armor or their basic black under-armor clothes? I've been very scared to write Ahsoka because her personality is so… nuanced. She's so young and cocky to a degree, but we see that grow and develop. I totally think that both Elara and Anakin have big reputations amongst the younglings. I can totally see Anakin coming in to lessons and causing quiet chaos; and Elara being the one they run to when they have questions or wee-Jedi homework issues. I also can't wait to see what Elara's nickname will be xD And Palps just knows when he's got an in. He absolutely swept in when he knew that she'd be emotionally vulnerable, hoping to get a foot in the door. And Elara is absolutely used to people having ulterior motives; one doesn't grow up on Tatooine and work in cantinas without being ultra aware of it. I'm impossibly flattered you enjoy my written interpretation of Obi-Wan as much as you do! He's difficult to write for, especially in the context of romance, so I'm very happy he's still seeming in character! The tea date. I always think it says something when you know how someone makes a drink––coffee, tea, cocktail… it gets me all fuzzy on the inside. And I thought it was a fun thing to throw in that he took off his boots and belt. 'Cause I always picture him in full Jedi regalia, so I was like… when does he feel comfortable not presenting himself that way? Also… the confession/reveal––how strong does it taste now? I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much!

Shadow Wolf 15846: The breaking point for these two Jedi dorks is approaching, don't you worry; and Anakin's marriage is going to be a point of contention for a while. We've got some good angst to pull out of that secret. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much!

thenerdnextdoor: Ahhh, oh my god, thank you! I'm so happy that you've enjoyed the story so much; and I'm beyond incredibly flattered that you feel inspired by it, even a little bit. I love finding those kinds of stories/art, so it's genuinely really lovely to hear that this story is that for someone :) The Force Bond is something I'm so happy to have finally gotten to. I'm so excited to develop it as the story continues, 'cause it's gonna be a major player as things start going down. I've always thought there must have been at least one Jedi that thought Palps was weird. That his interest in Anakin was strange. So I was like… hey, Elara's an older sister, she's not about that. And I love getting the chance to exercise writing character voice. It's so much fun, to me, to see how a character works through things, or how the thoughts enter their head. Again, I cannot thank you enough for your lovely reviews as you were catching up. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!

And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites! It means a lot!

Next up is "Rookies" and probably the start of "ARC Troopers"! We're reaching a point in the story I've been itching to write, but also nervous to write. So, here's to hoping it all goes well! Remember to let me know your thoughts on the Review Reply section! Love you all, y'all rock!

~Mary