Then.
When Yoda greets them at the hangar, there's something a little off about them.
"Well, you are?" he asks them, and they dip their heads in return.
"Well as can be, we suppose," Obi-Wan replies. Behind him, Yoda can't help but notice how there's a subtle tremor in Padawan Tano's smile as she tries to stammer a greeting. "I must admit, our time on Dathomir was… unnerving."
There's a fairly sizable crowd at the hangar. Drawn by news of Grievous's death, the Chancellor has arrived with his aide, flanked by four blue-robed guards that stand stoically at their sides. With them is a squadron from the Coruscant Guard, ready to transport Grievous's remains to a secure location. All this - combined with the multiple Council members that have come to see to Obi-Wan and his lineage's arrival - creates an atmosphere that Yoda would have called suffocating in his padawan days.
"Well, I certainly hope the Council will allow you to rest soon," the Chancellor says. He glances at Grievous's coffin and his face flushes, his eyes widening in horror. "Oh, dear. My goodness - please excuse me. I'm afraid I was unprepared to see this."
Yoda glances within the coffin that the Chancellor is pointedly not looking at anymore, and he understands why.
He'd never met Grievous on the battlefield. He'd certainly seen holos and mourned over the aftermath of his destruction, and while he'd longed for an end to the monstrous deeds of General Grievous, he'd certainly never seen anything like this coming for the Separatist cyborg. Yoda stretches out with his senses, probing at the remnants of the sharp green magicks of the Nightsisters, and he hums at what he senses.
"An act of revenge, this was not. Done as an act of protection, this was." He glances up. "By a Nightsister, he was defeated?"
Yoda pretends not to see the tensing of Skywalker's shoulders.
"It may be best if we could deliver the full report soon," Obi-Wan says instead, avoiding the question. "I'm afraid there's much to discuss."
And there is. Yoda looks at them, pretending not to see the strange blue-green sheen of Obi-Wan's eyes, or the way Skywalker's shadow seems to blur at the edges, or the way Padawan Tano's Force-presence seems to glow just a tad too brightly, and instead offers them a reassuring smile.
"Come. To the Chancellor's office, we will go." Yoda glances up to the Chancellor, who nods at the Coruscant Guard, directing them to secure Grievous's remains. "Then rest, you will."
\-|-|-/
The news spreads quickly through the HoloNet, fuelled by the already-fanned flames of interest surrounding the Negotiator and the Hero With No Fear.
Did you hear…?
You wouldn't believe what the Jedi just brought back!
The end of the war?!
And through it all - through the buzz of sensational articles and through the explosion of a frenzied discussion across the HoloNet - a new hope is kindled, because Grievous the War-Monster is dead. Because Grievous, unlike the refined Count Dooku or the mysterious Asajj Ventress, had been only a monster. Because when children of the Republic imagined the face of the enemy - the face they saw in their nightmares - they saw not the Sith but a monstrous amalgamation of metal and flesh.
The end of the war is in sight.
The end of the war is in sight.
\-|-|-/
Or is it?
Where civilians have regained hope, the Jedi have lost some. Jedha - beautiful, wonderful Jedha, with its towering temple and the song of kyber deep in its crust - is gone. When Yoda reaches out to the Force and pushes past the pain and agony left behind by years of war, he finds a hollowness where Jedha should be across the stars.
The Council knows not what happened, but they have an idea of who. Only the Sith Master could have conducted a ritual which desecrated Jedha as thoroughly as Darth Vitiate had desecrated Nathema thousands of years ago.
As they walk to the newly-relocated Chancellor's office, Yoda realizes what is wrong with his lineage.
They hadn't commed about the disturbance in the Force surrounding Jedha. They hadn't even seemed to know about it. Yoda probes the Force, and he formulates a theory - what had happened on Dathomir had been disturbing enough to distract his lineage from the desecration of Jedha.
\-|-|-/
The report is short and to the point. They'd rehearsed it on the Twilight on the way back, deciding to allow Obi-Wan to take the helm during its delivery while Ahsoka and Anakin interject. During the report, the Chancellor leans forward on his desk, pressing his lips into a thin line at each mention of Ventress.
"I was led to believe she had perished in battle not so long ago," he says. "So she survived?"
A strange emotion leaps from Anakin. Obi-Wan reaches out in the Force, drawing on the soothing calm of balance, and his padawan calms.
"Apparently so." Anakin grimaces - half real, half fake. "There was nothing we could have done to arrest her. If we tried to apprehend her in her own home - well. I don't think it would have gone well, Your Excellency."
"Of course, Anakin. And-" Palpatine breaks off, this time addressing Obi-Wan as well. "The intelligence she gave you was vital to countering the assault by General Grievous, correct?"
Obi-Wan dips his head. "Indeed. It seems - for better or worse - that her loyalties are devoted solely to her coven."
The room goes silent, musing on the unexpected turn of events, before Mace breaks it with a new concern.
"In any case, though I am grateful to see that there's a chance of ending this war soon, the death of Grievous also represents a loss of valuable intelligence," he says pointedly. His brows furrow. "You said that Ventress killed Grievous?"
A burst of fear leaps from Ahsoka. It's quickly controlled, but not quickly enough, as evidenced by the quick glance of Mace's eyes and the subtle concern emanating from Yoda.
Obi-Wan grits his teeth. They'd been on-planet for fifteen minutes, and they're slipping already.
"It was Ventress who struck the killing blow, yes," Obi-Wan replies. "But she wasn't the one who mutilated him. Out of all the Nightsisters… only Mother Talzin had the power to do something like this."
Not a lie, but a truth - from a certain point of view.
"And, if I may, Masters," Ahsoka interjects, doing a valiant effort at keeping her voice steady, "she did it to save me. I was fighting Grievous, and-"
She swallows hard, and tries again, pushing back on the revulsion Obi-Wan can sense coming from her as she recounts the moment while carefully omitting some details.
"I was fighting Grievous, and he almost got through my defenses."
Another half-truth. The Chancellor and the other Jedi draw their own conclusion.
"Deeply sorry, I am," Yoda murmurs, "that a necessity to face Grievous, it was, for you, young Padawan."
There's a weight to his words that belies knowledge unsaid. A pit of nervousness opens in Obi-Wan's stomach, snarling and uncontrolled, and he forces it down even as Ahsoka dips her head to hide the widening of her eyes.
Mace and the Chancellor pick the conversation back up, unaware of the turmoil brewing in the room.
But Obi-Wan thinks of Yoda's words, and he wonders.
\-|-|-/
Soon after the report, Mace sits with Yoda alone in the Council chambers.
"The Temple's defenses have been armed," Mace tells him. He taps on a datapad, a scowl marring his features as he considers the logistics of the plan he'd been putting together in secret over the past few weeks. "We should be safe from the use of artillery or orbital bombardment, if it comes to that."
Yoda hums. "Activate the shield, you will? When come, the time does?"
Mace rummages through the pouch on his belt and draws out a small metal slip. "Either I will," he says, then hands the slip to Yoda, "Or you will."
The activator is cold in Mace's hands. Yoda takes it from him with gentleness, and Mace can't help but notice the deep sorrow in his mentor's eyes as he ponders the implications of their preparations.
The Temple is filled with not just Masters and Knights but also Padawans and Younglings. It's common knowledge and easily accessible on the HoloNet. But Mace knows that should the Sith enact their plans - should they truly decide to attack the Temple - not even the Younglings would survive. Such is the way of the Sith.
He thinks of the chips in the clones' heads. He thinks of his own men, of their loyalty and bravery and his deep-seated respect for each and every one of them, and of how they could have been manipulated into being no more than cannon fodder thanks to the Sith's machinations. A trace of anger rises within him, and he releases it into the Force.
Yoda hums again, breaking into Mace's thoughts. "Prepared well, we have," he says matter-of-factly. "But acted with foresight, we have not. Blinded, the Sith have made us. Fear, I do, that many Jedi still will fall."
Mace grimaces, and grasps for hope. "We still have time to try to de-chip the Coruscant Guard."
"But time, have we truly?"
They meditate for a moment, thinking of the events of the day.
Then, from Mace:
"...no. I sense that the death of Grievous has brought about the beginning of the end to this war."
"Tread carefully, we must. Uncertain, more than before, the future is."
Mace thinks of the gaping hole in the Force where Jedha used to be. He thinks of the cloud of the dark side, heavy and oppressive, clouding his senses and hanging with weight over Coruscant.
It is true the end of the war is near. The end of the war, and the end of something else.
\-|-|-/
New intelligence comes in from the Chancellor.
"I have heard reports that Count Dooku will attempt to reclaim Christophsis," he tells the Council representatives in a brief meeting.
Mace wants to go. He also thinks Yoda should go. But he thinks of the Temple, of the shield generator activator he holds in his hands and of the defenses he has yet to prepare, and he knows that his place is on Coruscant.
"We must send our best to ensure we capture Dooku," he says, and the Chancellor smiles.
"Of course, Master Windu. Might I suggest Generals Skywalker and Kenobi?" Palpatine's eyebrows furrow. "Their success in engaging and ending the monstrosity that was General Grievous indicates that we may yet see an end to this war if we send them on this mission."
Yoda frowns, then hums. "Send them on this mission, we will," he agrees, and Mace tries not to think about the uncertainty murmuring around Yoda in the Force.
\-|-|-/
He finds them in the hallways of the Jedi Temple after they've been assigned the new mission to capture Dooku.
"Come, come," he says, gesturing with his gimer stick. "To your quarters, let us go, before your next mission, we must."
There's something they must know.
Next to Skywalker, Obi-Wan frowns, but acquiesces. Ahsoka follows them, and they walk to Yoda's quarters, chattering constantly while also speaking of nothing.
In his long years, Yoda has never quite been as unprepared for a conversation as this one.
\-|-|-/
"Come, come," Yoda says as the door hisses shut beside them. "Sit."
And he plops down on the floor, sitting cross-legged, and Ahsoka follows suit. She can't help the curiosity that murmurs through the Force from her. "Why are we here, Master Yoda?"
"Privacy, this conversation requires," he says, and he laughs, the sound ringing through the Force like a joyous song of wonder. "Tell you three alone, I must. Spoken with a friend long gone, I have."
The cold shock that blasts through the Force from Ahsoka's masters makes her flinch with its severity. In front of her, Yoda's smile doesn't waver.
Obi-Wan's voice is slightly strangled. "A friend long gone?"
"Master," Anakin says hesitantly, "you couldn't possibly mean- well- there's no way we know of for the dead to retain their consciousness after becoming one with the Force."
Yoda tilts his head. "No way the Order knows of, hmm?" He chuckles, bringing his gimer stick down on Anakin's shins with a hearty thwack that makes the young Knight yelp. "The dead, I did not mention. Jump to conclusions, you have, though correct, they are."
There's only one person it could possibly be. Ahsoka remembers the white-gold silka bead in her tea and the warm blue light in the corner of her eye, and she has to ask. "Master Yoda," she says, "Did you speak with Master Qui-Gon?"
The laugh he gives her reminds her of the stories of the Ase's elders - cryptic, tricky, and full of mirth. "Speak? Speak, we did not. But commune, we did," he says, and Ahsoka can almost feel Anakin biting his lip to stop himself from demanding what's the difference? in Yoda's face. "Much to learn, I still have. Of the Force," he continues, eyeing them meaningfully, "and of powers beyond."
Ahsoka thinks of the way that there seemed to be a sun burning beneath her skin, of the unnatural glow of Obi-Wan's eyes and Anakin's too-wide smile, and she knows - she knows - that the way that Master Yoda is looking at them now means that he knows more than he's letting on. From the corner of her eye, she sees Morai flutter as a wave of soothing calm from the convor washes over her and her masters, and Ahsoka knows that her masters also don't miss the way that Yoda's eyes flicker to the convor in a gentle appreciation.
Obi-Wan's voice is soft. "And what did you learn?"
Yoda's smile drops. "Learn, I did," he says, not answering the question at all. "But learn, what did you, on Dathomir, hmm?"
Without missing a beat, Obi-Wan replies, leaving Ahsoka to marvel at how easily words come to her grandmaster at times. The Negotiator, indeed. "We learned as you did." The words dance in the air with the ease of a Jedi Master spinning cryptic riddles. "That there is much about the Force and of powers beyond our understanding that we know not of. The Nightsisters' magick, for one."
Yoda hums. "Mm. Yes." The gimer stick rises, gesturing towards Morai, and Ahsoka tenses before relaxing slightly at the words that follow. "And of more. Know, you should, that pry, I will not. No. To interfere with a heavy hand, the way of a good teacher, it is not. But tell you, that here, I am, in what capacity I am able."
Ahsoka isn't sure how to feel. On one hand, she's relieved that Yoda isn't prying. There's a part of her that's startled that he knows - that he knows he knowsheknows - just as there's a part of her that still wants to give into her inner Youngling and spill everything to Master Yoda so that he may help them with his great wisdom.
Beside her, relief echoes in the Force. "Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan says, and Ahsoka is almost certain that Yoda doesn't miss the fact that Obi-Wan's eyes are a tad too bright to be natural.
Then Yoda sends them another wave of calm, and it only serves to increase her anxieties when the smile drops from his face.
(In the corner of her eye, the shadows flicker before smoothing out.)
"More information, I must give you," Yoda says, and Ahsoka feels like she's been stabbed with a saber at the sheer grief that pours through Yoda's words. "Stronger together, you are. Take this lightly, you must not. Prepare yourselves, you must."
Her masters exchange a glance before Anakin's gaze settles on hers. She stares at his eyes - a bright, brilliant blue - and she's suddenly terrified that Yoda will see their true colour.
"What is it?" Anakin asks.
The soothing warmth from Yoda intensifies as he tries to protect them the best he can, the emotion mingling with the unnatural calmness from Morai.
Ahsoka isn't quite sure if it's making the situation better.
"A ritual, the Sith Master has conducted. Stripped of the Force, the Temple of Kyber has been, on the moon of Jedha," he tells them gently, and Ahsoka is suddenly, horribly aware of the gaping wound in the Force, lightyears away, that she had kriffing missed. "Suspect, I do, that the magick of the Nightsisters warped your senses beyond the planet. Sensed the ritual, other Jedi did."
Sensed the ritual, other Jedi did, but you did not, he leaves unsaid.
There's a beat of silence as they absorb the information. Then it hits them, and a circle of frost explodes outwards from Anakin as the temperature of the room plunges and the suddenly-growing shadows overtake the sun's rays.
Dimly, the part of Ahsoka that isn't close to hyperventilating marvels at how this is the first time she has ever seen Master Yoda caught completely off-guard. His eyes widen, staring at Anakin with unabashed surprise, before a strange look crosses his face and he sets his lips in a thin line.
"Calm yourself, you must," he says firmly.
CALM MYSELF? Anakin roars, only it isn't his voice anymore. The words shred through Ahsoka's mind with the force of a bomb. THE SITH CAN STRIP THE FORCE FROM A PLANET, AND YOU WANT ME CALM-
Terrifyingly unfazed, Yoda continues on. "Yes," he says, his tone brokering no argument. "Only shield us for so long, Qui-Gon can."
The second (third? Fourth? She isn't sure anymore) shock of the day cuts through the air, leaving Ahsoka feeling as though she had just been thrown through the air and had just hit a wall at full speed. Her thoughts bounce around her head in an incoherent jumble, a thousand words mixing into an incomprehensible lump, and she opens and closes her mouth twice before giving up on words.
Obi-Wan, however, seems to have latched on to the name, his eyebrows raised in a picture of honest surprise. "Qui-Gon?" he demands.
Yoda's gimer stick jabs into the air with purpose. "Wonder, did you not, why no other Jedi sensed the outburst of emotion, hmm? Shielding us, he is. Use your senses, you must."
Force. Ahsoka feels so overwhelmed. There's too much happening at the moment and her brain can't take in so much information because she just mutilated Grievous and there's a ghost protecting them and the Sith stripped the Force from a planet and oh gods of Shili she didn't notice because she couldn'tsenseanythingbeyondserenity-
Morai screeches, the sound cutting through her thoughts like a knife, and Ahsoka takes the opportunity to bundle her emotions and release them carefully into the Force. At the same time, the shadows in the room abruptly recede, the temperature rising back to normal as Anakin gets ahold of his emotions.
It doesn't miss Ahsoka's notice that there's still a circle of frost around him - on the ground, on the chair, on the bed, on Master Yoda's robes, and underneath where Obi-Wan is currently sitting. It also doesn't miss her notice that Master Obi-Wan's clothes are completely untouched by the frost, and as she watches, she catches a brief flicker of blue-green mist in his robes before it solidifies again.
"Lived nearly nine hundred years, I have. Learn something new each day, I still do. " Yoda continues shamelessly. His gaze, beady and piercing, leaves Ahsoka feeling like a chastised youngling again."But understand, you must - though interfere with what the Force has gifted you, I will not, careful, you must be. Exploit your newfound state and abilities, the Sith will."
They sit in silence for a few moments, absorbing the soothing calm from Yoda and Morai, before Anakin breaks it, gesturing at the still-sparkling frost crystals with a hesitant hand. "You're not going to say anything about this?"
In response, Yoda makes a gentle sweeping gesture, gathering the crystals from his robes and the ground into a small ball held aloft in the air. "Teach you this, I cannot," Yoda says firmly. "Lead you astray, I will, for this knowledge, I have not. Apply to mortal beings, our teachings do. Wield both light and dark, no mortal can. But you - beyond Jedi, you are now. Beyond mortal. Hmm. Yes."
And isn't that a terrifying concept.
"But what of the Sith?" Obi-Wan asks. "We've told the Council what we've learned of Darth Sidious. If there is someone in the Senate with the ability to strip the Force from a whole moon - someone who must be related in some way to the influence of Darth Vitiate's holocron in the Chancellor's office - what is there to stop him from doing the same to Coruscant?" He stops, then adds: "Or to us?"
Ahsoka imagines the Sith Master with the abilities she'd seen in her masters, and a chill runs down her spine. The galaxy would fall within a day if that were to happen.
Anakin growls. "That- won't happen. We'll end him before he has the chance."
"If we find him in time," Ahsoka mutters under her breath.
But not quietly enough, apparently, because Obi-Wan responds. "Which is why it's crucial that we capture Dooku to confirm the identity of the Sith. All that we've learned - the chips in the clones, the holocron, the desecration of the Temple of Kyber - it's not good. I feel as though we're running out of time."
Yoda hums. "Correct, you are. Of the essence, time is." He stands, gently setting the ball of frost onto the ground, and begins moving to the door. "A day of rest, you have. Use it, I suggest you do. Hmm. On the horizon, confrontation looms. If prepared, we are not, lose the war, we will."
Ahsoka blinks. Around her, the faint-yet-discernable presence of Qui-Gon Jinn gives a nudge, and she has to ask. "You speak as though you aren't talking of the Clone Wars," she says.
The door hisses open. "No," Yoda says, and he laughs, only it's the first time she's ever heard this kind of laugh from him - the old, wizened, and infinitely sad laughter of a veteran who has seen too many deaths. "Begun, the end of the war between Jedi and Sith, has."
\-|-|-/
Now.
The Temple shakes.
Outside, the rhythmic thumping of blaster bolts slamming against the shield surrounding the Temple is like a constant shout against the ears of the Younglings.
One Youngling holds another. Katooni hugs the other one tight, whispering words of comfort to the infant. "It'll be alright," she whispers. "We'll be okay. The masters will take care of it. And I'll take care of you."
Patu, mutters the other youngling, his eyes wide and his ears drooping in his terror.
Katooni knows the plan. If it comes to it - if it absolutely must come to it - she knows exactly how to escape, and where she needs to go. She looks up, meeting Gungi's eyes, and he nods. Worst comes to worst - she'll pass the youngling off to Gungi, and she'll hold the enemies back. He knows where Master Nu is; he'll get the youngling to safety. "I'll keep you safe, Grogu," Katooni says soothingly, and she desperately hopes that it will never come to that.
The sound of blaster bolts stops, and the Temple stops shaking. They look upwards as if they could see through the ceiling in hope. Is it over?
Then a surge of hatred sweeps through Coruscant, and the younglings scream as the Force howls in agony.
\-|-|-/
Then.
Something is different about his General and Commander.
When they rendez-vous with Rex and the 501st on their cruiser after Dathomir, he thinks of the first time he'd seen the strange changes - right after their odd mission to Mortis - and he knows what he's looking for this time. General Skywalker's shadow flickers around the edges, and Ahsoka's shadow is just… not there.
Eh. Knowing his Jedi, regardless of new powers, they'll probably find another way to get into trouble. The mere thought nearly has Rex rolling his eyes before he goes to greet them, snapping a quick salute. "General. Commander." Then, because he can't resist, "I'm glad to hear the chief clanker is gone. I would've paid to blast Grievous myself."
It comes and goes so quickly that he nearly misses it, but he knows them well enough to catch the brief stiffening of their shoulders, and his eyes narrow even as General Skywalker responds. "It's about to get better, Rex," the General says. The smirk he gives doesn't quite reach his eyes. "We're being deployed to Christophsis by the next rotation. Word has it that Dooku will be there."
Rex raises a brow. This is news - if they can capture Dooku -
For a brief moment, thoughts of what he'll do after the war flit through his head, and he pushes them away. He'll think about it if he survives. "We'll be ready," he tells his General, and he's glad to see the smile reach General Skywalker's eyes this time.
\-|-|-/
The night passes quickly with preparations. There's still so much kriffing paperwork; munitions to check over, forms to approve, men to check in with, and more. At one point during the night, after they've checked on nearly everything, General Skywalker disappears to check on something else, but Commander Tano stays.
"How's your head?" she asks, her eyes flickering to the scar removal chip.
Rex shrugs. "Not terrible. Bacta's a damn miracle." Anger rises within him, hot and heavy, and he presses it down. "Everyone on board has had it removed. We're all free now."
Her gaze turns back to him, filled with an emotion he can't decipher, and he can't meet her eyes.
"But are you really?" she asks, the same emotion in her voice. "Free, I mean?"
He looks through the transparisteel into the medbay - at the brothers looking for a bacta pain patch for their chip removal recovery - and he realizes he doesn't know. "I wouldn't choose anything else," he admits. "But- I've known no other way but war. My brothers and I wouldn't exist if it weren't for it."
They move away from the window and walk towards the bridge for a few moments before Ahsoka speaks. "As a Jedi, we were trained to be keepers of the peace, not soldiers. But all I've ever been since I was a Padawan was a soldier," she whispers, and in the moment, she sounds untimely young - sixteen and a child, forced to grow up far beyond her age. "I could have left. But you didn't have that choice."
Rex thinks of Cut, then thinks of his brothers on this ship, walking around with the same identical removal scar in their head. Then he thinks of what Kix told him - of how Ahsoka's temperature was the same as that of corpses - and he looks at her lack of shadow, and he has to ask. "Do you still have that choice?"
When he finally looks at her, he sees that her arms have come up to wrap around herself. "I don't know," she confesses, and she takes a sudden turn, drawing him into an empty meeting room. The moment the door closes, she slumps, her shoulders hunching over the table. "We left out some details on the report. I don't- look- I-"
She finally looks at him, her gaze beseeching, and Rex isn't sure how to feel about how her eyes are glowing with the green of life.
"I mutilated Grievous," she gasps, and Rex is suddenly thrown back to Umbara, to the time he stepped into the clearing and saw General Krell's bloody heart grasped in General Skywalker's hand. "I mutilated him - he was going to hurt us - and I reached out with the Force and - oh, Force - Rex, I healed him, but there isn't supposed to be skin or muscle or bone regrowing on and around cybernetics-"
"Commander-"
Ahsoka flinches, then continues as if nothing had happened, her words coming faster. "And- Rex, there was so much blood - I meditated on it but - Rex, I didn't even feel anything when I did it, I just accepted it, I couldn't even feel afraid if I wanted to, I didn't feel like me-"
His Commander is panicking. His Commander - his friend - is panicking, her words tumbling out and her breaths coming in harsh pants, and Rex feels strangely calm, because Force powers be damned, at least he knows how to deal with a soldier suffering from a panic attack. "Hey," he says, placing his helmet on the table and reaching out to her slowly, "Hey. Ahsoka. Okay. Five things you can see. Come on."
She stares at him, her words cutting to a halt even as her chest heaves, and she stutters something out. "Your- your armor," she manages. "The table. The white of the ceiling. The- the datapads. The chairs."
He nods encouragingly, and hesitantly puts his hands on her shoulders. Her hands instantly come up, grasping his arms like a lifeline. "Four things you can feel, Commander."
Her fingers tighten. "Your arms. The carpet under me." She shifts, one arm reaching down, and her next words come out slightly less strangled. "The table surface. My- my lightsabers."
"You're doing well." He gives a quick squeeze on her right shoulder in comfort. "Three things you can hear?"
"I-" She stops, takes a deep breath, and Rex is gratified to hear her breathing slowing down to a normal pace. "My voice. Yours. The hum of the ship."
"Two things you can smell?"
She wrinkles her nose. "The cleaning agent on your armor," she snarks, and he gasps, pretending to be affronted. She rewards him with a half-smile that warms him. "And- eugh- my own sweat. I need a shower."
He chuckles. "And one thing you can taste, Commander?"
She wrinkles her nose again. "Military rations." Her voice softens, her grip loosening even though her eyes are still watery. "Thank you."
"Anytime." He releases her, taking a small step back to give her space. "And don't you dare apologize for it. We've all been there. After what you've been through… it's enough for anyone."
Her half-smile disappears, and Rex can almost see her balling up her emotions to release them into the Force - or whatever it is that Jedi do. "We had him trapped," she says, and he leans forward, giving her his full attention. "Grievous. Dathomir changed us - made us- more than ourselves - and when Grievous was trapped, he got scared. He lashed out with his sabers. And he was so close to us- he-"
She visibly struggles, taking another deep breath, and Rex gives her time.
"I reacted on instinct." She raises a palm, only this time, Rex can see the light glowing beneath her skin, like a miniature sun of white-gold. "Like with Echo, my first instinct was to heal, but this time-"
There isn't supposed to be skin or muscle or bone regrowing on and around cybernetics.
"Ahsoka," he says gently, "my first instinct would've been to shoot. You reacted to save yourself and the generals. Just because Dathomir changed you doesn't mean it's your fault."
"I know. But just because I know doesn't mean-" she cuts off with a sigh, visibly releasing her emotions again. "I can still see it."
He thinks of the first time he killed someone - not a droid, but a living, breathing being, a bounty hunter who wouldn't be fixed and rebooted like the droids he scrapped - and though it isn't the same at all, he thinks he understands. "You can't help but think what else you could've done," he says. "You would've protected yourself anyways. But there's always a what if."
"Yes."
They stand in silence for a few moments, staring at the glow in Ahsoka's palm, before she abruptly closes it into a tight fist.
"I didn't ask for this," she says, and her words are drawn out with an ironic laughter that pulls at Rex's chest. "But you didn't either."
He shrugs again. "I don't regret being made, Commander." He winces at his choice of words - made rather than born - but he pushes forward, because it's true. "I don't regret fighting for the right thing."
"Maybe not. I don't regret having gained this, or having fought for the Republic. But- Rex-"
The way she looks at him makes him sends a shiver down his spine, and he tries not to think about how for a moment there, he was sure that there were a thousand eyes looking at him from all over her body, green and unblinking and wrongwrongwrong-
"Rex," she says again, "Maybe we'll have that choice soon. When the war is over."
"Yeah." He picks up his helmet from the table, and tries to imagine living without it constantly at his side. He can't. "We'll choose when the war is over."
\-|-|-/
They leave the room soon after that and head to the bridge,
and Ahsoka tries not to think about how while she can't die,
Rex will be ageing twice as quickly as any human.
(It's not fair that she's immortal while he doesn't even have a chance to live his half-life the way he wants.
It isn't.)
\-|-|-/
That night, after pouring over pages and pages of legislation after a busy day at the Senate, Padmé arrives home to find Anakin already in her room, standing at the doorway to her closet.
"Padmé," he says, but before he can say anything else, she's already running, pulling her hair free of the pins and headdresses and discarding them on the floor before tackling him with a hug. He falls backwards with an oof, chuckling softly, and it doesn't miss her notice that the door hisses shut behind her. "Someone's happy."
"I've had a long day." Reaching into a covert pocket within the closet, she flips open the scrambler, turning it on in an instant. "How long do you have?"
"A few minutes," he says, and something desperate curls in her gut. It's unfair that they must hide - that they can only sneak a few moments together every few months - but it's the reality of their duties. "There's a lot I need to speak with you about."
"Me too," she breathes, but she wants to be selfish. Her eyes roam over his body, his face, and she pushes aside her desire to focus on much more pressing matters. "We've run decryption after decryption on the chip. We can't find anything. We can probably take it down if we have access to CenComms - but we haven't found a successful dismantler. Not yet."
A part of Anakin sags at that news. "We've gotten the chips out of the men in the 501st and a number of the Jedi-led battalions, but we don't think we can get to the Coruscant Guard with a good excuse." He takes a breath, bracing himself. "I don't know how much time we have. We're being deployed to capture Dooku by the next rotation."
Padmé's breath leaves her with the force of sheer hope that hits with those words. With Grievous dead, and Dooku captured…
They could end the war soon.
"Oh," she whispers, and the day catches up to her, making her stumble against the doorway for support. Bill after bill runs through her mind - legislation to target war profiteers, to repatriate the clones, to grant them rights - and her thoughts whir. "I need to- That's fantastic news, Ani."
He grimaces, and a chill runs down her spine.
There's something wrong with his smile.
But she's a politician. She knows how to hide her expression so that she can keep gathering information on the people she's speaking with.
"I don't know," he says, unaware of what she'd just seen. He swallows hard. "We're afraid that the Sith will make their move soon. If we don't get the chips out of all of the men, we could lose so many."
"We'll find the decryption codes," she promises him. There's something odd about his mouth - but she just can't figure out what it is. "I swear it."
"I believe you," he whispers with a soft laugh, and she sees it.
His smile is too wide. Inhumanly wide.
This isn't her husband. She's trapped in a closet with someone else - a changeling, maybe? - gods of Naboo, she should have checked before babbling about the chips - but something doesn't add up. The mannerisms, his voice, his concern for his men - they're all Ani, and if it weren't for the oddness in his smile, she wouldn't have noticed anything amiss.
She needs to gather more information. If it's him - well - she doesn't want to accidentally gut her husband with the vibroblade that's now hidden in her hand. She leans forward, pressing into his space, and his lips curl slightly as he looks upon her. "There's one thing I want to know," she breathes, a hand curling onto his shoulder - just in case she needs to attack quickly. "On the day Maul escaped, I received a lovely bouquet of flowers. Was it you?"
Surprise colours his gaze before a soft flush colours his cheeks. "Yeah, it was me," he confesses, and before Padmé can ask, he continues. "Twelve billa ferns and a rukee so that you'd know we were after Master Qui-Gon's killer. Hsuberry and casta so that you'd know Obi-Wan and I were on it. And-" A wry smile twists his lips. "I had to add the shuura."
So it is Ani in front of her. No one else would know to add this specific combination in the bouquet, and he'd just described it with the correct details and interpretations..
(But why is his smile wrong?)
She throws caution out the window, because this is her husband, and she needs to know. "Anakin," she says, and his smile dims at the seriousness of her voice. "What happened?"
Confusion colours his tone. "The flowers?"
"No." She looks at him carefully, preparing for an outburst of confusion. "You don't look like yourself. Your smile is too wide."
Padmé blinks, and then she's standing in front of a demon.
Gargoyle wings of shadow rise from the figure's back, eclipsing the entirety of the closet and blocking out the lights. Padmé stares at its face - at the bone-white of its skin and the wideness of its mouth - and she freezes when the deep-set golden eyes bore into hers.
She moves before she knows what she's doing. Years of instinct kick in to react to the threat; her left arm, already around his shoulder, feels the brush of leathery wings, and she pulls back and slams the demon into the wall. It's only the knowledge of the flowers that stays the hand that holds a vibroblade to the demon's throat.
Then she blinks, and all she sees is Anakin, blue eyes wide with hurtterrorbetrayal as he raises his hands in surrender. "Padmé," he says roughly, and she'd never heard him sound like this - terrified out of his mind - "Angel, I can explain, please-"
Oh, gods of Naboo.
She doesn't know what to think. She'd nearly slit her husband's throat. But she also knows that she didn't imagine that - that she was correct in her assumption and that something had happened, because she felt the brush of something that wasn't human-
The absurdity of the situation hits her - that Anakin, who wields a power that can kill her without lifting a finger, is scared of her - and she jerks backward, the vibroblade clattering to the floor from limp fingers. "I'm sorry," she tells him, and she means it.
His hands still in the air with the gesture of surrender, he stares at her. In the corner of her eye, Anakin's shadow flickers, and she's not sure how to react when she sees his legs beginning to blend with the shadows.
A part of her wants to laugh. If she didn't know better, she'd feel like she was just dragged onto the set of a horror HoloDrama.
"Padmé," he says again, and she hates how his voice shakes, "I'm sorry, I can explain, I swear-"
Kriff this. "Ani," she breathes, and she envelopes him in a hug. He stiffens in surprise, and after a few moments, his hands lower to wrap around her while she moves her hands in soothing circles.
Demon or not, this is Ani. She wants to know. She wants to help. He's shaking in her embrace - trembling like a leaf - and finally, she pulls back, pulling on her considerable experience to wield her words carefully. "I'm sorry. You startled me, that's all. But I want to help you." She reaches out, cupping his face, and she ignores it when her hand brushes against the corner of his mouth even though she's only touching the side of his cheek near his jawline. "Please, Ani, don't shut me out. Talk to me."
He stares at her for a few moments more, then he opens his mouth, and it's as though a dam breaks. The story of Mortis - a story of death, of ghosts, and of gods - and of what has happened since is nearly impossible to believe, only the proof stands before her very eyes. As the story spills out and Anakin's emotions tumble out with it, the shadows in the closet seem to dance, snapping out and flickering, and Padmé continues to hold his gaze even when his eyes flicker between a familiar blue and an unnatural gold. She'd only ever seen that gold once - on Naboo, the same day Master Qui-Gon Jinn gave his life to save the planet from the Sith - and as she listens to the story, her heart aches for the burden her husband has to carry.
Anakin isn't good with his words. The story tumbles out haphazardly, in stutters and half-finished sentences and in tangents as he remembers what he'd missed, and when he finally finishes the story with his discovery of Jedha's fate through Master Yoda, it's over an hour later and well past the few minutes Anakin had said he'd had for them. A glance at her wrist chrono shows that it's 2354 hours; they only have a precious few minutes before the next day begins.
"Oh, Anakin," she breathes, and she holds him, muttering platitudes and words of support that become lost in a murmur. For all her experience with people, she doesn't know how to deal with this.
She's never dealt with gods before.
She presses her forehead against his. "When do you have to go?"
His eyes - golden and bright and terrifyingly beautiful - flicker to her wrist chrono, and he groans. "Soon. Our check-in is right at 0000 hours."
It's not enough. Their time together is never enough. But she'll make use of that time the best she can. "Are you feeling better?"
His breath shudders, but he smiles, grateful and a little happier. "You always make me feel better, Angel," he whispers. "Thank you."
"Always." Her hands rise, running through his hair in a soothing motion. There isn't much she can do - she isn't a Jedi by any means - but this, she can do. "You told me that you aren't sure if you're going to slip into the dark side. So promise me this, Ani - if you ever need something to hold onto - I'll always be here for you. Remember that."
"I will."
"Promise me." She pulls back, holding him in her gaze. "If you ever feel lost, Anakin, come back to us. To your Captain. To Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. To me."
There's so little time left. Even though she knows Anakin has the ability to move through shadows - or so he's told her, and she's still not sure she believes it even though she saw the shadows creeping up his legs - he can't emerge in the middle of the conference room. He has to come out of somewhere as if he hadn't been off the ship and at the 500 Republica the entire time.
"I promise," he tells her, and she gives in to her selfishness when she closes the gap and presses her lips against his. The noise he makes is the way she feels - desperate, needy, and filled with a heat she won't be able to satisfy in this minute - and he responds hungrily, his hands moving to pull her closer as they take advantage of the precious few minutes they have together. Padmé closes her eyes, giving in to the feeling of his body against hers, and she feels cold when he finally pulls back a couple minutes later.
"I have to go," he murmurs against her lips. The shadows seem to crawl up his body, lapping at his legs and his torso. "I'll see you soon."
It's unfair that they only have so long. It's unfair that they have to say goodbye. It's unfair that after all the work she's done, after all the work Anakin has done, that they can't even allow themselves this moment of relief.
Padmé pushes it aside and allows herself one last moment.
"Come back to me," she murmurs back, and she presses her lips against his again. He responds with equal vigor, and for a beautiful, blissful moment, there's only the two of them.
Then there's the soft rush of sound, and when she opens her eyes again, she's left alone with nothing but her closet and the flickering of the shadows.
\-|-|-/
On another part of Coruscant, hundreds of kilometers away from the 500 Republica, not a single person notices General Skywalker's previous absence. He walks into the briefing room at precisely 0000 hours, and all goes smoothly.
The last checks are done, the last forms signed. At 0100 hours, the Open Circle Armada turns, and jumps into hyperspace. From the highest spire in the Jedi Temple, Yoda watches their departure.
"May the Force be with you," he murmurs to them, and he prepares himself for the twilight of the war.
The beginning of the end is here.