A/N: So uh. Hi?
I finished writing this epilogue last night, and I was like "okay, since it's really long it'll probably take me a week to edit" but then I started editing this morning, and I just finished?
Let me be clear: I'm not emotionally prepared to post this at all, but here we are anyways.
I'm doing it.
Anyways, here's a really long epilogue. It's literally more than double the length of a usual chapter.
Enjoy!
It was a new day.
Sunlight streamed through the sickroom's curtains, casting Mace's surroundings in a warm, golden glow. Through the door that was left half-open, Mace could see the Healers and medics walking past, usually in a hurry.
Six days had passed—since the Temple was attacked, since Order 66, since the Jedi Order nearly fell to the darkness preying at them for decades.
Six days since the fall of the Sith and the end of the war.
And for all six of those days, Mace was here. He woke up two days ago, after spending a few days in bacta, followed by a period of drifting in and out of consciousness.
When he had finally awoken, for those first few moments, he forgot everything. It felt almost as though he had returned from yet another battle and was only just recovering in the Halls, as usual.
After all, everything looked the same—from the room's sparse decorations to the ever-present, familiar scent of bacta wafting through the area. It wasn't until he sat up properly and looked at his surroundings properly that he realized that something had happened.
At that point, Master Yoda walked in, followed by Master Plo, and the memories came flooding back. The other two Councilors had briefed him on what had happened after Mace had been injured—the battle on two fronts, the retreat to the Halls, and then—
Skywalker and Kenobi—bringing balance to the Force together, defeating the Sith once and for all.
And now…
Sighing softly, Mace looked up as the door opened fully, revealing Bant Eerin, followed by Vokara Che. Both healers looked exhausted—Eerin's shoulders were stooped ever so slightly, and Che walked with a slight limp, caused by a flare-up from an old injury, Mace assumed.
"Master Che, Master Eerin," he greeted, nodding at the Master Healer with as gracious a smile he could muster, given the circumstances. "What is the situation with the Halls of Healing today? Have we managed to remove more chips, or—"
Master Che crossed her arms over her chest. "We're here to talk about you, Master Windu," she said sternly.
"Very well," Mace replied. "Well, I can report that I'm breathing a lot better than before, and I can talk more easily."
Eerin nodded, pulling out a datapad and typing into it. "And how is your pain today, Master Windu? I'm seeing here that you're still working on transitioning back to eating solid food."
Mace sighed. "If I work slowly at it, I can eat some food," he admitted. "As for the pain, it's been steadily getting better. I've been able to release it to the Force as needed."
He gestured towards the sling on his right arm with his left. "I can move the fingers on my right hand. It's slow, but it's there. And like I mentioned before, I can breathe much better than before. It doesn't hurt."
The younger healer nodded, brows drawn together in deep concentration as she typed more into her datapad. Then, she looked up, shadowed eyes shifting to Che's in a carefully controlled motion.
"These are extraordinary circumstances," Master Che said, looking at Mace severely. "Normally, I would wait until you are more sufficiently healed to release you to your quarters, but…"
Her eyes shifted back to Eerin, whose eyes were fixed on the ground, somewhere far away. Mace felt a twinge of sympathy for her—for what she had lost and what she had to endure in the aftermath.
"These are extraordinary circumstances," Mace echoed, curling the fingers of his left hand into a loose fist. "And I'm needed by the Council—by the Order—as I'm sure you're aware."
Che let out a sigh. "You're on strict bedrest for the next week. You will meet with a physical therapist every day to help you recover motion in your arm, and I am arranging for the refectory to send you your meals," she said.
Mace nodded. "Understood, Master Che. Thank you—both of you," he replied. "I know these past few days must have been…difficult, for both of you personally."
Somehow, Bant's head lowered even further. The three of them lapsed into a carefully constructed silence—one that rang almost painfully in Mace's ears.
"I will send along a medic with a hoverchair to escort you back to your quarters," Vokara said finally, voice quiet. "They should arrive within the hour. Any questions?"
Slowly, Mace shook his head. "Thank you, again," he murmured. "And if there's anything the Council can do to make things easier, let us know."
Bant and Vokara smiled in response—a practiced, familiar ability that Mace was sure every healer and medic had depended on in the past.
With a final goodbye, the healers left the room.
Mace spent the next hour meditating in relative silence. It was difficult to get himself into the correct position—his right arm was strapped to his chest and put into a sling, and there was still a dull ache in his torso whenever he moved too much—but he managed to get it to work.
After all, there was much for him to reflect upon.
A part of him felt guilty—he was the Master of the Jedi Order, and when his people needed him the most, he wasn't there. It was reckless of him to confront those creatures by himself, knowing that he was outmatched from the start.
He was not there for his people when the attack ravaged the Temple, when the clones and the creatures marched through these very Halls, cutting down Jedi after Jedi. He was a liability, nearly causing Dooku and his fellow Councilors to lose their lives.
But Mace also knew that he could not change the past. He knew that dwelling on the past, on what could have been, would not do him any favors. Instead, he had to look to the future: to allow the Jedi Order to heal and make things better.
For while the Sith were gone and there was balance, Mace had to make sure that the balance would remain.
He would do what he must, for the Jedi who lived on and for the ones they'd lost along the way.
The sound of the door opening again pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up.
A clone medic—Kix from the 501st, based on the familiar Force presence—was pushing a hoverchair into the room, and Mace's heart leapt up to his throat. There was a scar on the medic's forehead, just slightly off-center, where his chip had been removed.
It was the first time Mace had seen a clone, since—
"General Windu," Kix greeted, smiling softly. "It is good to see you, Sir."
"Likewise, Kix," Mace replied, using his uninjured hand to push the covers off his lap. "But as you know, the war is over. I'd really prefer it if you didn't call me 'General' anymore."
"Understood, Sir," Kix said, stopping at Mace's bedside with a knowing smile. "If you're ready, I can transfer you to this chair and we can get you back to your quarters."
Slowly, Mace nodded.
It was time for him to go home and to begin to make things right.
The Council had much to do, after all, beyond protecting the Force and the balance that they had fought so much to obtain. There were relations with the Republic Senate to maintain, clone control chips to remove, trials and investigations of Palpatine's supporters and associates, the whole situation with Skywalker's marriage, the Sith shrine that slept below the Jedi Temple—just to name a few.
And Mace had to be ready.
He would be ready.
As Kix pushed him out of the room, Mace took in the sight of the damage that ravaged the Halls of Healing. There were deep scars lining the walls of the corridors, scorched into existence by the swing of lightsabers, along with broken machinery, collapsed ceilings, and shattered windows.
Mace saw the beginnings of the repairs: glue and tape, cracks where items were once broken, and maintenance droids working at the panels at the end of the corridors. He spotted engineers peering over datapads, in deep discussion, a Jedi Knight helping their Padawan walk after suffering what appeared to be a right leg injury, and a pair of younglings, hugging and then talking animatedly to one another.
From where he sat, seeing the beginnings of reconstruction—of hope—Mace felt warmth in his chest.
Throughout their journey, Kix remained mostly silent, nodding at a few of the medics and healers that they passed every so often, his presence a steady, warm light in the Force.
They turned a corner to exit the Halls, and then—
At the end of the corridor, a line of familiar figures stood, just before a balcony, staring out at Coruscant's infinite skyline. One of them turned and raised a hand, as though in greeting. In response, Kix let out a quiet laugh, raising a hand back towards the figures and moving Mace a bit closer.
Mace took in the sight of the group of clone commanders standing shoulder to shoulder, smiling softly towards the balcony. Captain Rex was gesturing animatedly towards something in the distance, eyes bright with a mixture of exhaustion and determination, while Commander Wolffe was nodding in response, arms crossed over his chest. Commander Cody stood between Wolffe and Fox, still and quiet.
The sight of it—the Jedi, the clones, together and alive—was a reassurance that Mace so desperately needed to see in that moment. The attack had broken them and nearly resulted in their destruction, but through it all…
They survived.
And in the survival—in the moments of healing, of reparation, and of memory…
Mace Windu saw hope.
Going back to the Temple's lower levels, following the footsteps she'd taken with Dooku when everything had gone so wrong, felt really, really strange.
To Ahsoka, it felt odd.
The darkness she'd felt the first time she came here was gone. In its place, there was a strange emptiness—not quite the Light that was beginning to surface in the upper levels of the Temple, but rather a muted feeling that washed over her presence.
There was a distance to it, something that Ahsoka could not name with actual words.
"It's just through here," Ahsoka said, gesturing to the passageway just in front of them with her right hand, which was holding up her shoto as a light source. Anakin nodded in response, and then together, they pressed onwards.
The past few days had been a flurry of activity. The Jedi Temple had sustained massive amounts of damage during the attack, and more than that, the losses were substantial. Despite the fact that they survived, that the Jedi Order was still alive when the Sith had fallen, there was a muted grief that washed through the Temple's corridors.
There was grief for the fallen, along with the necessity to rebuild, to reconstruct and thrive.
And Ahsoka understood that, all too well.
She was grieving—of course she was. The sight of the light fading away from Obi-Wan's eyes, followed by his body disappearing into nothingness was something that would be forever ingrained in her memory.
But Anakin wouldn't talk about it.
He barely talked at all, not about what had happened a few days ago. Ahsoka had brought it up a few times, whenever they did have a few minutes to talk, but Anakin would only give her a strained smile and nod reassuringly.
Though, she supposed, it was good that Anakin was coming with her today.
As they stepped into the landing, Ahsoka exhaled, watching her breath puff out into the cold air around her. The shrine stood a few yards away, pressed against the corner of the large, cavernous room, and surrounding it was—
Broken husks—the bodies of the fallen Sith creatures, withering away into the dust, into nothingness.
Anakin's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the sight around them. In the dim light, his face was pale, somewhat washed out.
"So this is it," he mused, eyes raking around the room with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, kneeling down to brush his fingers against one of the husks collapsed near his feet. For a few moments, his jaw tightened, and Ahsoka felt familiar grief lighting up their bond, along with crushing sadness.
With a quiet sigh, Anakin stood, scrubbing his flesh hand across his eyes. Then, he nodded, gesturing at Ahsoka to continue moving.
Ahsoka turned to face the shrine and started walking forward, holding up her shoto to guide her footsteps. Unlike the last time she'd been here, the Force was still, silent. All she could feel was Anakin's presence and the balance that he'd brought—like a lake, calm and soothing against her nerves.
Whatever darkness, whatever pain she remembered from the shrine was gone. It was as though it had never been there in the first place.
Together, they walked in.
Blinking, Ahsoka took in the sight of the altars spaced all around her, arranged almost in even intervals in the cavernous area. She remembered seeing the bodies lying atop the altars—all soulless, dark, and horrendous, demonstrating an evil unlike anything she had ever experienced up until that point.
Next to her, Anakin's breath hitched.
"This is where they were," Ahsoka murmured, gesturing around at the altars with her left arm.
"For all this time," Anakin whispered, voice filled with a mixture of horror and disbelief. "They were here, and we never knew."
"I know," Ahsoka replied. "I still can't believe it."
They continued onwards, Ahsoka tracing the familiar footsteps she'd taken a few days ago, remembering the sound of Obi-Wan's voice echoing in her ears, guiding her to the corrupted holocron, to the darkness that was sustaining the Sith magic that had infected the Temple.
The room was like a maze—extending far enough in all directions that it was impossible to see the opposite wall from where she stood. Even though Ahsoka couldn't exactly remember which way to go, there was something in the Force now, urging her forward.
"I sense it, too," Anakin murmured, looking around with wide eyes. "Trust your instincts."
Ahsoka nodded and pressed on.
The path they took felt almost random, but as they drew closer and closer to their destination, Ahsoka felt the Light urging her on and on.
Before she knew it, they found the holocron.
It rested on a pedestal, the familiar, white light glowing softly in the dimness. The holocron looked more like the ones she'd seen in the Archives, not like how it did the last time she was here—infected and dark.
There was a calmness that settled over the holocron, a warmth that resembled every other holocron Ahsoka had ever seen, and—
No voice. No hint of the voice that Ahsoka remembered from that night. It was as though the spirit of whoever it was that was in the holocron had long since departed.
"Is this it?" Anakin asked. He reached for the holocron with his mech hand and examined it closely, turning it carefully in his fingers.
"Yeah, but it's back to normal," Ahsoka replied. "I don't hear the voice anymore, and I just don't understandhow it brought me back to the Halls and Dooku to the Senate Building."
Humming, Anakin closed his eyes, his Force presence reaching outward, tentatively. His eyebrows drew together into a deep frown as his fingers tightened their grip on the holocron's surface ever so slightly.
"It feels normal to me," he murmured. "And there's nothing stored in it." He waved his flesh hand on top of the holocron, causing it to open to reveal…
Nothing.
Ahsoka's shoulders slumped. "It doesn't make sense," she whispered. "There has to be a reason, Master."
Slowly, Anakin nodded, lips pursed together. "Let's take this to the Archives," he suggested. "I'm sure Master Nu would have more insight."
Ahsoka sighed. "Alright," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.
Together, they made their way out of the shrine, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. As they walked, Ahsoka felt the quiet stillness in Anakin's Force presence—a mixture of grief, desperation, and acceptance surrounding him like a halo.
The journey out of the shrine, all the way back to the lift that would take them out of the lower levels, was made in silence. Ahsoka found herself wanting to talk, wanting to say something, but she stopped herself short every time.
Ever since it happened, she didn't know how to talk to Anakin. He hadn't told her much about what he'd gone through, other than the fact that Sidious had ripped the Force out of him, and that in the end, Obi-Wan had saved him—at the cost of his own life.
Ahsoka knew—suspected, really—that there was more to the story. But she also knew that there was something deeply personal in the way that Anakin talked about what had happened, and she figured that she could just wait.
All she needed right now was Anakin by her side.
With a pleasant chiming sound, the lift came to a stop at the residential floor. It opened, and they walked out together, only to stop short at the sight of Dooku a few yards away, just by the exit leading out to one of the Temple's hangars.
"You're back," Ahsoka said in greeting, looking up at the former Sith with raised brows.
Dooku nodded. "The Senate wants to hear from other witnesses," he replied, "but for now, I am no longer needed for the investigation."
Anakin's eyes shifted away from Dooku, glancing down at Ahsoka with a strange, meaningful look.
"So then…what are you going to do now?" Ahsoka asked, tilting her head.
Dooku wrinkled his nose. "I'm not permitted to leave Coruscant for the time-being," he muttered, then he waved a hand, almost casually. "There is no life for me to return to on Serenno, anyways. Perhaps there is something more meaningful to be found here."
"Like what?" Ahsoka asked, tilting her head. "You left the Jedi Order behind, became a Sith Lord, but then you left that behind, too. So then what are you now?"
"Does it matter who I am?" Dooku replied tersely, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is it not enough for me to choose to stay here, for what remains of my Padawan's legacy?" His voice was sharp, laced with a mixture of indignation and passion, but—
Anakin's eyes softened, and warmth gathered in Ahsoka's chest.
"You're choosing to stay for us?" she whispered, swallowing down the lump that had formed in her throat.
Dooku glanced away for a brief second, suddenly looking extremely uncomfortable, but then—
"I am making amends," he murmured, and then his brown eyes were fixed onto Ahsoka's with startling intensity. "I am doing what I should have done in the first place, long ago."
They lapsed into silence, the Force humming with a mixture of warmth and resolution. For a moment, Ahsoka felt as though something was settling in place, a finality.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," Dooku continued, gesturing to the corridor leading to the High Council Tower. "I have to discuss the investigation with the Council."
Anakin and Ahsoka nodded in unison, and then Dooku walked away.
"Never thought I'd hear him say something like that," Ahsoka admitted as soon as the Count was out of earshot.
Anakin hummed softly, glancing down at the holocron in his hand. His eyebrows were drawn deeply together, as though he'd been caught off guard but was trying desperately to hide it. The uncertainty in his Force presence was not new, but it didn't stop the worry from crawling up Ahsoka's spine.
"Master?"
Anakin let out a breath and shook his head.
"Let's get this to Master Nu," he murmured, gesturing towards the Archives.
Together, they walked forward.
The Council Chamber was silent.
Dooku stood in the middle of the room, letting the last of his words echo into the silence. He knew that the Jedi Council would have questions for him—they always did, even decades ago, when he had been a Jedi.
Master Windu shifted uncomfortably in his hoverchair, face twisting into a grimace as he adjusted the sling on his arm. The Master of the Order had only been released from the Halls yesterday, much to Dooku's surprise, but he supposed a part of him understood.
The Order had been dealt a heavy, striking blow, and they needed to act, quickly.
"So that is it," Windu mused, voice rasping slightly. "You saw Skywalker as a Sith, as this Darth Vader. But he came back to the Light."
"He was not himself," Dooku replied. "He was forced to the Darkness, against his will. It was not like what Master Kenobi had seen, with Vader destroying the Jedi, but rather a revived Skywalker and Kenobi bringing balance together."
Windu slumped back in his seat, frown deepening.
"It was Obi-Wan's last act," Master Plo murmured. He gestured at the empty seat in the circle of chairs. "To bring Skywalker back to us and help him fulfill his destiny."
Dooku nodded in response.
The chamber, once again, lapsed into silence.
Dooku fixed his eyes beyond the circle, to the window behind the empty seat. He caught a glimpse of Coruscant's afternoon traffic, speeders locked in routine, familiar bumper-to-bumper traffic, especially considering the time of day.
Despite everything that had happened—with the Jedi and the Sith, the Light and the Dark Sides of the Force, and balance—some things remained the same.
A part of him was glad to see that.
"So," Master Gallia asked, drawing Dooku's attention back to the conversation, "what now, Dooku? What do you intend to do?"
The words caused Dooku to draw himself up, grounding himself in preparation for his response, knowing that the Council would react in some way to what he was about to say.
"I no longer belong here, in the Order," he replied. "That much is clear. However—"
Windu's head snapped up, eyes narrowing.
"I have a responsibility to what remains of Qui-Gon's legacy," Dooku continued, drawing his eyes over to Master Yoda, whose eyes widened in shock. "And if that involves me being indirectly associated with the Order in whichever capacity this Council chooses, so be it."
His words rang into the silence. A few of the Councilors were looking at each other, away from Dooku, communicating to one another without actual words. But Master Yoda's remained fixed on him—steady and sure.
"So be it," Master Yoda echoed. "A Jedi, you are not. A Sith, you are not. But an ally of this Order, you may be."
Distantly, he felt surprise rippling through the Force, but Dooku ignored it, focusing instead on the ancient Jedi's words.
"Understood," he replied. "I intend on staying on-planet for now, at least until the investigation is over and everything has been…settled."
There was much to rebuild, after all. The Jedi would have to build themselves back up before finding a way to move forward. The Republic would have ongoing trials and investigations for months, along with treaties with Separatist systems, an election for a new Chancellor, and finding a way to prevent corruption from worming its way back into its heart ever again.
It was a tall order—one that Dooku knew would challenge the Jedi Order in more ways than one—especially if the Order was recovering, pulling itself back onto its own feet after a horrifying, near-fatal attack on its home.
The recovery would be long and difficult, and he knew that it would not take a straightforward path.
But there was balance.
And that balance would drive them forward—would drive him forward.
Dooku had little choice but to believe that, because not only did he know the cost of that balance, but so did the rest of the Order.
They would make things right, in the name of the losses they'd faced, and for the hope of a brighter future.
It was what his Grandpadawan would have wanted, after all.
With a nod, Dooku turned around and began to walk away, feeling more certain than he had in a very long time.
The trial at the Senate was not at all what Cody had expected it to be.
As a high-ranking Clone Commander, and as General Kenobi's second-in-command, he was asked to testify on his own, even though he'd said—multiple times—that he wouldn't have much to offer.
Just like all the other clones whose chips had been activated during Order 66, he remembered nothing. There was Ahsoka's message, warning them about the chips, the horrifying, sinking feeling that they were about to attack their own Jedi, and then—
Nothing.
That was what Cody had told the Senate when he was called to testify.
"We had no control, no understanding about the implications of our own actions," he'd said, crossing his arms over his chest. "It was all programmed onto the chips the Kaminoans put into us, at Palpatine's behest."
There had been a low, murmuring sound that rushed through the Senators sitting witness at that exact moment, and then within minutes, Cody was dismissed.
And now, he was heading back to his barracks to…
Well, to be honest, he didn't really know what he was going to do.
It wasn't as though there was a war to fight anymore. He'd always thought that when the war ended and he somehow was still alive, he'd still have something to do.
Cody distantly remembered bringing up the topic with General Kenobi a while ago—long before this mess started, before there was any indication that something was wrong with Kenobi. The Jedi had smiled softly, and then he said something that Cody hadn't forgotten and likely never would:
"You are a man of purpose, of giving everything you have in yourself to make things better, no matter what," Obi-Wan had said, giving Cody a deliberate, knowing look. "So when the war ends, I imagine you will put everything you have and more into a noble cause, just like you are right now."
Cody had almost started laughing right then and there.
"But what you need to remember is this: it's okay to not take everything upon yourself. When the war ends, you can stop and rest. You've done so well, Cody, and you deserve…so much more."
Shaking his head, Cody dragged his mind out of the memory. With a quick glance at the door in front of him, he sighed, allowing his shoulders to slump.
He could hear the voices of his brothers just on the other side, all talking excitedly about travel plans, new beginnings, and the opportunity to explore a beautiful and dangerous galaxy without the war looming over their heads like a constant, oppressive shadow.
They were…free.
With a sigh, Cody opened the door.
He spotted Rex and Wolffe standing at the center of the landing, engrossed in deep conversation. As he moved closer to them, he realized that they were both talking about military strategy during peacetime—something they would both have to contend with in the coming days, since Rex would be staying on Coruscant as a consultant for the GAR, while Wolffe would return to Kamino to train the last of the clone cadets.
"There you are, Codes!" Rex exclaimed, slinging an arm across Cody's shoulders with an easy, familiar grin. "Made up your mind yet?"
Cody huffed out a breath as Wolffe smirked at him, eye sparkling with mirth.
"Not really, no," he admitted. "I guess I'm so used to having orders taking up that just the idea of having free time is…strange."
The smile disappeared from Rex's face, and the three of them lapsed into silence.
"Yeah, I get it," Wolffe murmured. "You know you're always welcome to come with us to Kamino, right? Those cadets are sure to be a handful."
"Yeah, I know." Cody smiled softly at his brother. "I just need to think. I just don't know, vod. With everything's that happened, I need some time to just process."
Rex hummed. "You have all the time you need to decide," he replied. "As long as you are doing something that makes you happy, Cody…I think that's what's most important. Take as long as you need to figure out what that would be."
"I will," Cody promised, letting his grin turn into something more genuine and grateful. "If you'll both excuse me—the trial has taken a lot longer than I expected."
Exchanging a knowing look between one another, Wolffe and Rex nodded, and Cody walked away. He trudged through the rest of the open area until he arrived at the 212th's section of barracks. As he walked, he passed by a few of his men, nodding at each of them in greeting.
It was…nice to see this moment, finally.
The end of the war, the clones realizing their freedom and getting to live the life they'd always wanted, and…peace.
But there was a part of Cody—a small, desperate, confused part of him—that was reeling from all the change. And there was the other part of him that longed for the past, that mourned everything—everyone—he had lost.
He stopped at his bunk and dropped into it with a heavy sigh.
His bunk was situated at one of the room's corner, far enough away from the rest of his men's bunks to give him at least a little privacy—except in this moment, it felt as though he was miles away from the rest of his men.
Because usually, Cody knew exactly what he was doing. He knew what each and every day would bring, his own objectives, and the parameters of the war beyond—a conflict so deep and scarring that it would take years and years to go away.
Except now…it was gone.
And Cody had no idea what to do about that.
He let his bag drop to the floor next to his feet, placing his elbows on his legs and putting his face in his hands.
Cody sat and allowed himself to breathe.
It was all he could afford to do.
He didn't know how much time had passed while he remained seated in this position, waiting for something and nothing to happen. Eventually, he pulled his hands away from his face and lay down on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
His mind cycled through memories—starting from the beginning, at Kamino, the feeling that he had to keep going and going because the galaxy was going to need him, eventually.
He remembered when the war began, while he was still finishing his training on Kamino. Not long after that, he'd been assigned to the 212th, as its Commander. He remembered when he first met General Kenobi, after months of cycling between a few other Jedi Generals. Cody remembered all the battles and missions, all the good and bad times, between everything else.
And now…everything was going to change, and he was not ready for it.
Out of nowhere, Cody's commlink buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. Sitting up, he reached for it from the side table and answered the call.
"Commander Cody here."
"Commander Cody, it's Mace Windu. Do you have a minute to talk?"
Cody blinked in surprise, leaning back on the bunk until his back rested against the wall, propping him up slightly.
"Yes, General Windu," Cody answered, automatically.
"You know we're not Generals anymore; there's no need to address me as such," Windu said, the words sounding odd and scratchy through the commlink's speaker. "Anyways, I was just wondering: with everything that's going on, have you decided on what you're going to do now?"
Cody's throat tightened.
"Uh, well…" He looked up at the ceiling, fumbling for words. "I'm still exploring my options, Sir. I don't—well, everything has been happening very quickly, and I suppose that for us clones…we're just not used to, well—"
He cut himself off abruptly and closed his eyes. Slowly, Cody took in a breath, and then he let it go.
Through all of it, Windu was silent, as though he was merely waiting for Cody to gather himself.
Cody appreciated that.
"I haven't decided yet, Sir," he said, clearing his throat.
Windu hummed. "Well, Obi-Wan and I used to talk about how you have a knack for hand-to-hand combat, and we both agreed that the Jedi younglings would really benefit from learning from someone who is not Force-sensitive," he mused, voice crackling slightly.
Cody blinked, eyebrows drawing together in a deep frown. His mind whirled, Windu's words echoing over and over.
"What are you saying, Sir?" Cody asked.
"Well, I'll have to speak to the rest of the Council, but there's a position here in the Temple," the General—former General—said. "It's yours, if you want it."
"I…" Cody's throat went dry, and he swallowed.
"I'll send you the details—pay, benefits, anything else you'd like to know. You do have the option of living at the Temple, though I'll add that you might be more comfortable living elsewhere for the time-being," Windu continued. "Think about it, and let me know."
For a moment, Cody imagined himself staying here on Coruscant, helping the Jedi, just like he had always done. Sure, it would be different, but he always did enjoy interacting with the Jedi, especially the Padawans and younglings.
Just because the war was over and everything was changing didn't mean that he could no longer help. They did need a lot of help, too—what with recovering from the attack and the trauma that followed, and rebuilding.
There would be so much rebuilding ahead, and Cody…
Cody wanted to be a part of it.
"I'll think about it, Master Windu," he said, firmly. "Thank you."
"Thank you, Commander," the Jedi replied.
The commlink clicked off, and Cody smiled softly, leaning back against the wall with a quiet sigh.
He had a feeling that everything would be alright, in time.
The memorial was being held in front of the Jedi Temple, by a newly-constructed garden that rested on its own platform.
As Anakin walked down the Temple steps to approach the crowd of Jedi, clones, Senators, and civilians gathered around the memorial, he felt…lost. He was dimly aware of Ahsoka standing next to him, and Dooku a few feet behind, watching over them both.
It was odd, to see Dooku around like this. Anakin was still trying to figure out how he felt about the whole thing.
Well, he was trying to figure out a lot of things, if he was being honest with himself.
"Good afternoon."
Master Windu's voice brought him out of his thoughts. Anakin's gaze slid past the memorial—four tall, looming stones standing parallel to one another, surrounded by beautiful, white-petalled flowers—to where the Master of the Order sat in a hoverchair.
The rest of the crowd fell silent.
"I would like to thank you all for coming today," Master Windu began. "It is…a day to remember those who have fallen. We must remember their sacrifices, as we move on to a new era of peace."
Anakin barely registered the humming of the crowd around him. Instead, his mind was drifting back into memory, to a few hours after he'd returned to the Temple after…after everything.
He stood in the center of the Council Chambers, painfully aware of the one empty chair—the one that always brought comfort to him, but now…
"I told Master Plo about this, before," he began, voice echoing slightly. "I am not sure if he managed to pass it along to the rest of you, but…"
The room's air shifted, just slightly. Anakin's eyes moved over to Master Plo, who shook his head slightly.
"Well, I've wronged all of you," Anakin admitted. "I broke the Jedi Code as a Padawan, because I…well, I thought myself above the Jedi. And it was wrong—so wrong of me."
The room lapsed into silence, neutral and simple.
Anakin waited, but none of the Councilors had anything to say.
"I'm married to Senator Amidala," he announced. "And I—I know this complicates things, that I could have just loved her without letting it become attachment, but…at the time, I didn't think about it. And there's something else."
Anakin swallowed, looking around the room until his eyes settled on the empty chair once again, allowing his mind to just imagine the figure sitting in there, just for a moment.
"I did something terrible," he whispered. "And I…I regret it so much, but I know you need to know the truth."
Blinking, Anakin turned away from the empty chair, to Master Yoda, whose head was bowed in quiet grief. Then, he turned to Master Plo, who nodded at him reassuringly, head tilted in that way that told Anakin that he was smiling underneath his mask.
"When my mother died," Anakin began, voice trembling, "I…lashed out. I killed the Tusken Raiders who killed her, but I didn't stop there. I didn't stop, until…until I'd killed the entire village, including the women and children."
The words echoed into the air. Anakin tore his gaze away from Master Plo, letting his eyes drop to his feet.
He just couldn't bear to look at any of the Councilors in the eye.
"Whatever punishment you all see fit, I gladly accept," Anakin murmured. "I'm just…I am so sorry. If I hadn't allowed myself to fall into the Sith's trap like that, then maybe…"
He cut himself off with a shudder, letting his words drift into the silence.
A few moments passed, then—
"Knight Skywalker," Master Windu said finally. "What you have told us is a grave, serious matter."
Nodding, Anakin lifted his head to look directly at Master Windu, who was shifting slightly in his chair using his good arm.
"This is something that has happened years ago, before you were even Knighted, and you have demonstrated growth since that time, especially in the past few days," Master Windu continued.
He glanced at Master Yoda, who nodded back at him.
"With this in mind, we want to implement the following: first, all of your activities—including your training of Padawan Tano—will be monitored by Master Plo, Master Yoda, or myself over the next few weeks." Master Windu's voice was firm. "We're also requiring you to have sessions with a mind healer, to better understand your mental state and your progress."
"Understood, Master Windu," Anakin said, nodding slowly. "Thank you."
"Now, regarding your marriage." Master Plo's voice filtered into the air, causing Anakin to turn around to look at the Kel Dor Master. "As I'm sure you're aware, a marriage is a legal, binding oath, and this conflicts with the oaths you have taken as a Jedi Knight in this Order."
Anakin looked down at the floor. "I know," he whispered.
"The fact of the matter is this: you must not allow your marriage to get in the way of your ability to be a Jedi, even in peacetime," Plo continued, voice gentle. "We will have to meet with Senator Amidala's office and come to an agreement that would benefit both parties. It will be difficult, Anakin."
"I understand, and I will do everything I can to make sure that our marriage will not get in the way of my ability to be a Jedi. She is not mine to possess, Masters; I just…I love her," Anakin said simply. "That's all."
Sighing, Anakin looked back to Master Windu, who was gesturing to the memorial with precise, swift motions.
"The four towers represent the Jedi and clones we have lost since the war began," he explained. He moved his chair forward, to the pair of towers at the back of the structure, standing tall and proud.
"This tower right here—" Master Windu gestured to the tower directly next to him "—represents the clone troopers who gave their lives and more ever since the Clone War began. And on the other side, you'll see the tower to remember all the Jedi who have fallen to the war."
A few murmurs broke out through the crowd. Anakin watched as people bowed their heads, as Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut and followed suit.
"If you move closer to the structure, you will notice that we have had the names of the fallen engraved on the towers, so that we always remember their sacrifice."
Anakin watched as Master Windu pushed his chair forward, closer to the pair of towers at the front of the memorial. The Master of the Order paused, taking a deep breath.
"We have lost a great many Jedi and troopers in the very last days of the war," he began, voice rasping in the cold, quiet air. "With Order 66 and the attack on the Temple, and everything else that followed, the Jedi Order and the Republic itself were in danger of complete destruction."
He paused, bowing his head for a brief moment.
"This first tower is for all the lives lost on that day—Jedi, clones, any Temple workers who were there that day and unable to evacuate in time—anyone who died during the attack." Master Windu's voice pulled Anakin's gaze away, back to the memorial, back to reality.
Master Windu moved his chair again, moving it around to the other side of the memorial to the very last tower, just in front of the rest. He stopped, resting a hand at the the last tower's, looking up at it with wide eyes.
"But it could have been worse—so much worse," he murmured. "It's because of one Jedi that we remain today. He has sacrificed everything for this Order, for the Republic itself. And so, we have constructed this last tower in his honor."
The silence that passed through the crowd was heavy and potent. Anakin blinked slowly, swallowing as a heaviness crawled up his throat.
This was…not what he wanted. He didn't want to be here, seeing the Jedi honor Obi-Wan like this, reminding him that his Master was truly gone. Anakin didn't need that. He didn't need that reminder, not when it was already all he could think about.
"We are grateful," Master Windu said, after a few moments, looking back to the crowd. "And we will remember, always."
Next to him, Ahsoka bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Anakin's stomach twisted at the sight, and he felt the urge to reach out to her, to do something.
But what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to help her, when just staying afloat through all of this was so, so difficult?
How could he be the Master that Ahsoka needed, when he was so broken?
"Now, if you would like to offer any memorabilia to the memorial, now is the time to do so," Master Windu said, gesturing slightly towards the towers next to him. He reached for his belt and pulled out a small, hardcover book. Placing it at the base of the tower, he tilted his head upward.
Anakin saw his lips move—a silent prayer. Afterwards, he moved his hoverchair away.
Then, there was motion.
Anakin watched as Jedi, Senators, and clones stepped up to the pedestal one by one, either placing an offering to the memorial or merely standing in silent memory before moving on. He was dimly aware of Ahsoka kneeling down and placing her bag on the floor and rifling through it.
When she stood up again, Anakin turned to her.
There was a small potted plant in her hands.
Anakin blinked, remembering how Obi-Wan got her the seeds from a stall in Naboo, a little more than a year ago, with the purpose of growing a plant together. He remembered how afterwards, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka struggled to nurture the seed until it began to grow. And even then, the little plant wilted and struggled to survive through every single day.
But somehow, through everything, it did survive. Anakin had completely forgotten about it over the past few weeks, with everything that was happening.
"It finished growing the other day," she whispered, gesturing down at the plant, which now stood tall, sturdy and alive. "And I thought he would like to know."
Anakin nodded, watching as she stepped forward to join the line trailing towards the memorial. Pressing his lips together, he looked down at his belt, at the lightsabers resting next to each other, like brothers.
"Skywalker."
Dooku's voice pulled his attention back up to where the former Sith stood in front of him, staring at him quizzically.
"Dooku," he replied, voice neutral.
If he was being completely honest with himself, Anakin didn't really know how he felt about Dooku staying here. It felt…strange, as though Dooku was trying to make up for all the time he'd spent away from the Jedi, but it also felt as though it was too late.
After all, Dooku did not owe Anakin anything. He couldn't bring back Obi-Wan or his mother or his right arm, or…anything.
"Are you just going to stand there?" Dooku asked, tilting his head slightly.
Sighing, Anakin dropped his eyes back down to his belt. He shook his head, reaching for the lightsaber hilt that he knew almost as well as his own.
The crowd was beginning to thin, but Anakin and Dooku remained standing where they were, with Anakin staring down at Obi-Wan's lightsaber hilt as though it were a lifeline. A part of him knew that he should probably start to move, to do something, but something held him in place, waiting.
The Force urged him on, a comforting warmth.
The lightsaber in his hands was weeping, its crystal crying out for its owner. Anakin felt its ache in the Force, and he desperately wished to comfort it somehow, but he could barely find the comfort himself.
Shaking his head, Anakin fumbled for the pouch on his belt with his free hand. Once he got it open, he put his hand inside and then pulled out a long coil of hair, braided intricately with familiar beads and colors.
His padawan braid rested in his palm, reminding him of what he'd done to get it back.
"Anakin," Padmé's eyes were wide as he walked into the apartment. "I'm so glad to see you; we have so much to talk about."
Anakin nodded. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop by earlier," he murmured. "It's been…a difficult few days."
"I know," Padmé whispered gently. "I'm so sorry, Anakin. He loved you so much. You know that, right?"
"I do." His voice shook.
They walked through the corridor just by the main entrance until they arrived at Padmé's greeting room. It was a modestly sized room, decorated with two simple couches, a low caf table, a few lamps, and floor-to-ceiling windows displaying Coruscant's skyline.
Anakin spared a glance out one of the windows, allowing his eyes to glance over the Jedi Temple in the distance before he sat himself down on the couch closest to him.
"We need to talk." Padmé's voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned to look at her, sitting right next to him.
"I know," Anakin replied. "The Council…I told them everything."
"What did they say?" Padmé asked. "Are they—are we okay?"
Anakin paused, taking a deep breath and looking back out the window at Coruscant's traffic. He could see the sun hanging in the sky, miles and miles away—far enough that he couldn't help but wonder if the galaxy was lying in wait, for this moment to resolve and move on.
"They'll want to speak to your people," Anakin replied, voice quiet. "And some things might change, but…we'll figure it out. We can figure it out, Padmé. I just…I need this to work, because I just lost—"
His voice cracked, and Padmé's features softened.
"I know, Ani," she whispered, and then her arms were pulling him closer, into a desperate embrace. "I know."
He didn't know how long they remained locked in the hug, arms tangled desperately around each other. Anakin was trembling, tears slipping easily from his eyes, dampening the fabric of Padmé's dress.
When he pulled away, sniffling slightly, Anakin took a deep breath, dragging his sleeve across his eyes.
"There's—there's something else," he murmured, voice shaking. "When I got Knighted, I gave you my padawan braid. This is gonna sound horrible, but I—"
"You want it back."
Padmé's voice was quiet, and when he looked up at her, she was smiling softly.
"I had a feeling that you would want it back eventually," she continued, eyes shining. "It's representative of your life as a Jedi, of everything you've learned from Obi-Wan. I could never lay claim over it, Anakin."
At her words, Anakin felt more tears spilling from his eyes, but he made no move to wipe them.
"I—" His voice trembled. "Padmé, I…"
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.
"Thank you."
Staring at it now, the braid felt light and familiar. Anakin remembered its weight hanging from his temple, not too long ago, swinging with his every movement. He remembered braiding it every day—he remembered Obi-Wan braiding it with quick, deft movements. He remembered each and every achievement, each thread of accomplishment.
He remembered it all.
With a sigh, he slowly wrapped the braid around the lightsaber hilt—a loose coil, fitting in the palm of his mech hand.
Then, he stepped forward, ignoring the sharp intake of Dooku's breath.
Numbly, he walked closer and closer to Obi-Wan's tower, barely noticing the crowd parting way for him. Anakin moved to the base of the tower, staring up at it, at the sun shining above it enough to cause his eyes to water.
Then, taking a deep breath, he placed the hilt and braid at the base of the tower.
"Thank you," he murmured.
Anakin turned around and walked away. He spotted Ahsoka standing a few feet away, staring up at the memorial with bright, teary eyes. Dooku remained where he stood a few moments ago, looking at the memorial with an odd, contemplative expression.
Then, blinking, Dooku turned away. Anakin watched as he walked to the garden's exit, heading back to the parking lot where he assumed his speeder was waiting for him.
When he was gone, Anakin pressed forward, moving back to his Padawan.
"It's over," Anakin whispered, stopping in front of Ahsoka.
She breathed out slowly, scrubbing a hand over her eyes.
"I have—I have to go see Barriss," she rasped. "She just got back to the Temple, after seeing her own men fire on her, and I have to…I need to be there for her."
Anakin nodded. "Of course, Ahsoka. Go—be with your friend."
Ahsoka managed a shaky smile, and then she turned away, heading back into the Temple.
He turned back around to face the memorial, watching as people stepped up and added more and more items to it. There were flowers, books, items, plaques, and even a few small holograms filling up the base of the memorial.
The sight of it was…
Anakin squeezed his eyes shut. His breaths shuddered.
A few moments later, he opened his eyes once again. Anakin blinked, taking in the sight of the memorial, the gradually thinning crowd, and the Force itself, sighing out in quiet, familiar relief.
Then—
He turned around and walked back into the Temple.
The corridors were in various states of disarray. There were broken statues, shattered pieces of glass, and machinery laying waste on the floor, waiting to be repaired. But through it all, Anakin found himself remembering the very first time he walked these corridors, despite the fact that it all looked so different back then.
He'd just arrived at the Temple for the first time with Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon had gone off to speak to the Council, and Obi-Wan had offered to take him on a quick tour while waiting for Anakin to be called for his examination.
They'd walked through these very corridors. Anakin remembered the awe he felt—the amazement from seeing how big and incredible everything was.
There was just so much life in this Temple.
And now, thinking back on that moment, Anakin realized that he felt the same way once again. There was life, hope, and a stunning beauty that nearly took his breath away.
The Force let out a sigh, whispering in familiar, open comfort and urging him to continue on his path. Anakin's eyebrows drew together, only slightly.
He pressed forward.
Stepping over dusty floors, he found himself taking the steps up to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. In his mind's eye, he saw himself—nine years old and oh-so-young—following Obi-Wan into this very room.
As the gardens came into view, Anakin stopped at the entrance, arching his head backwards to take in the sight of the sunlight streaming in through the large, glass windows. He breathed in, smiling lightly at the familiar fragrance of all the flowers, plants, and trees rushing through his senses.
The Force here felt so…clear, and beautiful.
"Keep going."
Anakin took a few more steps inside.
The path he took—weaving between ancient, beautiful trees, creeks, and plants that towered way above him—was a familiar one.
Anakin remembered, distantly, taking this same exact path during his first days at the Temple. He'd often find Obi-Wan here, either meditating or just lying on the grass, staring up at the sky with familiar fondness.
The memory of it was something precious, warm.
As though he was being pulled forward by an invisible string, Anakin kept moving forward. His footsteps turned from a slow, steady walk, to a jog, and then he was sprinting through the gardens.
Green, beautiful plants whipped by as he pushed himself faster and faster, panting slightly. The Force swelled beautifully in his mind, and for the first time in the past few days, Anakin felt…
Well, he felt as though there was more to this—more to any of this—than he'd ever felt.
He felt as though he was…real.
His footsteps skidded to a stop in an open clearing. Panting, Anakin leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. As he breathed, he craned his neck upwards, taking in the sight of the great tree right in front of him.
This was it. Anakin remembered…finding Obi-Wan here, meditating right in front of this tree with an easy smile on his face. A part of him felt as though he could almost still see Obi-Wan there; except that was…
"Impossible."
The word escaped him—a snap back to reality, to…
Obi-Wan was gone. He was dead.
What was he doing here? Why did he think that coming here would make him feel better? Coming back to Obi-Wan's favorite meditation spot in the Temple wouldn't bring him back—nothing would.
With another slow, shuddering exhale, Anakin turned around. He began to walk back, following the path he'd just come from, still breathing heavily.
He took one step, two, and then—
"Anakin."
A whisper, quiet and familiar.
Anakin froze. He stopped breathing entirely, mouth going dry.
This couldn't be real. He had to be hearing things, because none of this made any sense; there was no way—
Shaking his head, Anakin took one more step away, but the voice called to him again, louder this time.
"Anakin."
Anakin stopped again. He closed his eyes, turned around slowly.
Waited.
And then…
When he opened his eyes, sitting at the base of the tree like he always did, like he'd been there the whole time, Obi-Wan was smiling up at him. There was a strange, blue shimmering quality to his presence—as though he wasn't actually there.
But that…that was impossible.
"Obi-Wan?" Anakin whispered, voice shaking. He managed a step forward, legs trembling enough to almost cause him to collapse on the ground, just in front of his former Master.
Obi-Wan smiled softly, and then he was standing up, slowly. He stepped closer to Anakin, eyes sparkling with a mixture of gratitude and joy.
The Force sang, and Anakin—
He let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, feeling warm tears spilling down his cheeks once again. But he couldn't move to wipe them, couldn't bring himself to break the moment in any way, because…
Obi-Wan was…here, somehow.
Anakin didn't really understand any of it, but did it really matter?
As though he had somehow heard his thoughts, Obi-Wan laughed lightly.
"See, Anakin?" he said, eyes sparkling with an amusement that Anakin hadn't seen in such a long, long time. "I knew you would figure it out."
The sound of their laughter echoed throughout the gardens, ringing into the Force with bright, beautiful hope.
A/N: And that's it for this fic!
I'm honestly a bit surprised to be at the end of this story already. It's been a few years in the making (I wrote the original Whumptober prompt that kicked off the whole thing back in 2018), and the end of the story always felt like a far-off dream, until I was actually writing it a few weeks ago. It's surreal, really.
I'm so, so, so grateful and honored at the reception this story got. Thank you to everyone who read, subscribed, and/or left kudos, bookmarks, and comments! You're all amazing, incredible people, and I'm so grateful for your kindness.
The one thing I really wanted to do with writing this story was challenge myself and become a better writer, and I can say with confidence that I definitely did that here. I am still amazed at what I've done with this (just. Chapter 15, okay? Chapter 15), and I'm so happy to see how writing this helped me grow as a writer.
Anyways, what's next for me? Well, I have a massive backlog of WIPs that I've been neglecting, including a bunch of shorter stories. I'm hoping to refocus on Shifting Shadows and on the Broken series. Once I get my WIPs under control, I do have an idea for my next long multi-chapter story—but that one's going to have to wait a bit.
Anyways, if you liked this story, feel free to check out any of my others on AO3! I'm also on tumblr at pandora15 and on Twitter at pandora1510 - feel free to follow me on either one or both! I'm always happy to scream about Star Wars, and you're also welcome to ask/scream at me about this story ;)
And, uh…I think that's all I had to say? I'll probably click "Post" and then realize later on that I forgot something though ;
Again, thank you all so, so much for reading, and please leave a review on your way out! :)