Hi everyone! Me again, sorry this one took a while! Hope you haven't given up on it while I was gone.

I won't hold you too long from the story, I know that's what you're all here for, but just wanted to say that I miss you all and I appreciate you sticking around and putting up with the slow updates (unless you're new, in which case, welcome!)

As a thank you for the wait, this chapter is a little longer, so happy reading and let me know what you think!

Without further ado... Enjoy

PREVIOUSLY:

Rex doesn't join them. Instead, he shuffles himself on his own bed and props himself up against the bed frame so he can watch the entrance.

He can't fault them for being protective over Ahsoka. He knows what they're probably feeling because he feels it too.

They let her down. Rex knows from what he saw in the slave facility that at some point, Ahsoka had learnt to survive on her own. But how many days had she spent hoping that they'd come for her? How many days had she believed in them until she had no choice but to accept that they had really failed her?

The urge to do anything it took to make up for everything they let her go through is almost burning. This time, they wouldn't let her down, even if it's just keeping her safe while she sleeps.

SIX - Fragments of the Past

Ahsoka's unconscious. She knows it for a fact, just as certain as she knows that she's breathing (and both statements come as a disappointment because she didn't want either). Her muscles don't respond to her commands, and her thoughts run wildly like they do when she's still for too long.

She wants to scream, to cry and beg for forgiveness, but she can't because she can't move. She's frozen, unaware of what is happening outside of her own head and she doesn't know where she is. She hates being unconscious.

Slaves don't sleep on the job, the slavers' voice rings in her head, electro-staffs ablaze and ready to shock her into awareness. Stay awake you lazy skug!

She knows it's coming. In fact, she's a little surprised that they've left her alone for this long. Or maybe it's because they're planning for something worse. It's entirely possible, though it frightens her to think of the new ways they might find to show her their cruelty. She wants to think she's seen everything, but she's smart enough to know that's not true. With zygerrians, and with her master in particular, there's no such thing.

There's nothing that she can do but wait. Either for her control over her body to return on its own, or for them to shock it back into her.

The wait is torture. Then again, everything is torture nowadays.

Then it happens. Slowly, but surely, the harsh glare of light burns her eyes behind her eyelids. That in itself is alarming, because the Kadavo Facility is dark. Is she outside? Did Master Denturri come and collect her?

Then more happens. Her jaw clenches when she wills it. Her fingers twitch when she flexes them. Her legs are numb from disuse, but the feeling of them is slowly returning through harsh pinpricks. She tries to open her eyes, but she can't yet. That's okay, because she doesn't need her eyes to ask for mercy. Just her tongue.

"I'm sorry master," she whispers through closed teeth. Her vocal cords don't respond to her will, and the words are barely an audible breath, even to her own ears.

"It's okay Ahsoka," a voice next to her whispers back.

There it is. The jolt to her system that she was long anticipating. Her eyes snap open and her whole body flinches. Her injuries jostle painfully and she hisses, but it's nothing compared to the complete and utter shock she feels, because right now she can't believe her eyes.

It's not Master Denturri beside her, waiting patiently for who knows what cruelties he's planning to exact.

It's Anakin Skywalker.

No no no! She's wide awake now, and more than alert. She forces herself into an upright position and though her ribs are now screaming in agony, she can do little more than openly stare.

He looks… exactly the same, and entirely different at the same time. His intense gaze is unmistakable, so distinctly his, even after all these years. The scar on his face, the set jaw, it's like he was taken straight out of one of her distant memories. Memories that haven't felt like they were really hers for a long time, with how dissociated they were from who she now is.

But she knows that he's not just a fragment of her imagination, nor a new method of cruel torture, because there are differences that she's never observed before this. His hair has grown out over the years, the once choppy cut he used to wear now falling into long wavy locks. There are lines on his forehead, lines she had seen on Obi-wan as well, though it was less obvious when the only expression anyone ever wore in Kadavo was a frown. And his eyes. They're so worn, sad and helpless in a way that she's never before associated with Anakin Skywalker.

In a moment of weakness, the sight of him sitting next to her in a medbay as if she had just woken up after a rough battle is almost enough to make her feel like a padawan again.

Almost, but not quite. She hasn't survived this long by being naive, by wishing for a life that is no longer hers. She's not a padawan, she's a slave. And somehow, though she's lost as to how, she's slipped out of her slaver's grasp.

"Where are you taking me?" she rasps out.

"Coruscant," Anakin tells her in a quiet voice. "We're taking you home."

"Home," she whispers to herself. The word is almost foreign to her. Was Coruscant still her home? It used to be, before home came to mean the Resolute with her men. Now, she doesn't think home is either, or anywhere else. People like her don't belong anywhere except chained to the people who own them.

And she knows that he still owns her, even if she's headed for the other side of the galaxy. He'll come for her, and he won't be happy when he does.

Everything about this is so very wrong.

"Ahsoka, I'm so sorry," Anakin tries to tell her, reaching out towards her hand. On instinct, she pulls away because touch is bad, and tries to ignore the burn in her eyes and the hurt in his. She's struggling to maintain a calm composure, crying just isn't an option for her, but she's waited so long to hear those words. To know that even though no one cared enough to find her, they at least cared enough to miss her. To be sorry that they left her behind.

Still, she's determined not to let her guard down in front of anyone, especially not here, so she pretends he's apologising for something else. Something that's much easier to face, and something that in all truth, he should be sorry for because now they're both going to pay for his mistake.

"Then take me back," she tells him. She hates herself for saying it, nothing good waits for her on either Zygerria or Kadavo. She hasn't forgotten that she has just killed the Keeper, and she hasn't forgotten the punishment for violence. She won't survive being sent back, but what choice does she have? The punishment for attempting to escape is much worse.

"What?" Anakin says, like he didn't quite hear what she said.

"Take me back to Kadavo, and my master might let you off easily," she tells him. "I don't know what you were thinking by stealing me, but he's protective of his property. You're only asking for trouble."

Anakin jerks back, as if the words have shocked him. "You were owned?" he whispers to her in horror.

Ahsoka doesn't answer. A small part of her is a little surprised that Anakin seems to know more about slavery than Obi-wan or Rex did. Slaves in a processing facility were usually yet to be auctioned. No one knows that her master only kept her in the facility to stay hidden while he was off world. And to properly and thoroughly strip her of everything that used to make her a Jedi.

The other part of her doesn't care what he thinks. Or doesn't want to at least, because as much as she's carefully holding up a mask of stoicism, it's slipping. More so now that Anakin is looking at her with so much pity. She doesn't want to cry, she's trying so hard not to, but the burning sensation in her eyes is slowly coming back.

"I am owned," she tries to correct him. "Send me back."

"No," Anakin says, and it's with so much conviction, so much certainty, that Ahsoka starts to truly entertain the idea that he actually won't send her back. The thought comes with horror, and it hits her so hard that it pierces straight through her faked apathy and suddenly she's drowning in too many emotions again. "You're free Ahsoka," he tries to tell her. "Don't you get it? You're free now."

He's lying to her. If she didn't know any better, she might even be convinced with how sure of himself he sounds. But she does know better. Anakin Skywalker has lied to her about a lot of things.

"Don't lie to me," she grits through her clenched jaw. "Don't."

"Ahsoka, you're free. I promise you. You're free," he pleads with her again, and now that he's promising it to her, she believes it even less.

"You made a lot of promises," she mutters, and he jerks back like he's been burned. There's no satisfaction for her to gain from it though, because the reminder hurts her too, but it's the truth. I promise I'll never let anyone hurt you, he used to say to her after tough missions. I promise we'll make it out okay. She used to cling to them like they were her life. But here she is now. She no longer knows a life without hurt, and she hasn't been okay for three years, and he didn't do a thing to stop it. And now he's telling her that she's free?

She's used to cruelty by now, expects it even. But not from Anakin.

"I don't want your lies," she spits at him angrily. She's terrified because of it, she's not allowed to be angry, or defiant, or aggressive, but she can't help it. If not anger, then it would have been a plea. Either way, she doesn't want her emotions toyed with, and she'll do anything to make him spare her. She doesn't want him to give her hope. If it comes from him, she's scared that she'll start to believe it. She knows what having your hopes crushed feels like, she doesn't have it in her to face the pain a second time. "I don't want your false promises," she says, "and I don't want your help."

"Ahsoka please-"

"I want you to turn this ship around, and I want you to send me back to Zygerria."

"Just hear me-"

"No!" she suddenly shouts. The word master nearly slips off her tongue at the end, purely out of habit, but she manages to bite it back in horror at the near mistake. She needs to be so careful here, there are consequences for that kind of mistake. "Take me back. He'll come for me if you don't."

Anakin just stares at her, and she looks down in dismay. He isn't going to listen, she already knows it. Nothing she says is going to get through to him, not when his jaw is stubbornly set, and his eyes hard and immovable like they are. She looks away, because if she loses her resolve and allows her tears to fall, she doesn't want him to see.

Then his face morphs into something darker, and crying is suddenly the least of her worries. "Let him come," Anakin says harshly, and Ahsoka suddenly has to swallow hard and bite her tongue from whimpering in fear. He's angry, and anger means that she's in danger. Her heartbeat picks up rapidly, and she can't help but glance behind him at the door. "Let him come, and I'll make sure he knows that taking you away from me was a mistake."

"General," another voice calls, a clone voice, and Anakin whips around to glare at the new person. Ahsoka didn't even realise her sore muscles had tensed up so violently, but now she slumps in relief because the intense gaze is no longer focused on her. The clone approaches them, and lays a hand on Anakin's shoulder to pull him away. She can breathe now, though right now the air doesn't seem like it's enough.

"Sir, General Kenobi requests your presence for your debrief in the meeting room. They've got the Council on call."

For a brief moment, Anakin's anger turns to hot, white rage before it tapers off into his usual casual indifference, as if it was never there. Ahsoka doesn't even know what to think, but she's still terrified. The exit is still in sight, and if she needs to she'll leap up and rush towards it, injuries or not.

"Thanks Kix, I'll be right there."

Anakin stands, and looks down at her as if he wants to say something else. Ahsoka just looks down and waits for his words, praying that they won't bring back his temper, but he remains silent. When she dares to look again, he's just standing there. She thinks it's disappointment that she sees in his eyes, but she doesn't know for sure. Disappointment is much easier to bear. It's not something that comes as a surprise at least.

Then he's gone, and she thumps her head back against the bed and tries to find her sense of calm again, though she's well and truly shaken.

The clone is still looking at her. It's Kix. She wasn't sure before, because she couldn't bring herself to take her eyes off of Anakin when he was here, and she still doesn't dare to reach into the Force to seek out his signature. He's different from the Kix she distantly remembers, but Anakin called him Kix.

"Kix?" she whispers hesitantly just to be sure, but now that she's focusing on him, she can see that it is him. The medic insignia she once proudly helped him paint on his shoulder plate is now faded, but still very much there, and though his hair is grown out, she can still see the start of aurebesh letters tattooed on the side of his head.

A good droid is a dead one, it once read. A joke from the past. She no longer even remembers how it came to be.

"Commander," he says back, and gives her a sad smile as he approaches her bedside. As much as she hates it, she can't help but feel alarmed again at his close proximity, but he doesn't reach for her like Anakin did, and she 's grateful for it. "How are you feeling?" he asks her.

She doesn't know, and she doesn't know why he wants to know. It's better not to answer, because she still has no idea what to think of this situation, so she just gives him a shrug. The movement causes her ribs to flare in pain again though, and Kix looks like he's gotten the answer he wanted.

"You're injured, Commander," Kix tells her gently, like he thinks that it's a bad thing that she's hurting. He doesn't know that every injury only happened because she did something to deserve it. "You need to rest and heal."

Rest? No she can't rest. She's a slave. Slaves don't sleep on the job. Stay awake you lazy skug! She just shakes her head at him. He gives a small frown at that.

"Please, Commander. If you want, I can give you a sedative-"

"No," she tells him. She won't fall asleep again. She can't.

"Why not?" Kix asks. He looks confused at her refusal. It's not his fault, he doesn't know that she can't, that she's not allowed to.

"No." She will not, and she's prepared to fight him if she has to, if he decides to approach her with a syringe anyway. She's broken too many rules already, rules that she will eventually more than pay for. She can't say why, because the very thought of being so truly owned is suddenly shameful to admit, but Kix must know that she isn't willing to damn herself even further. "I'll die before I let you."

"I…" Kix looks lost, like he doesn't quite understand what she's saying. But his eyes dim from confusion to sad, vague understanding. "You don't need to fall asleep if you don't want to. As long as you can stay in your bunk and not strain yourself, that's enough."

He doesn't push further, and doesn't pry. It's relieving. This is okay. She can do that. She nods at him. "Thank you," she says, and he smiles at her, though it's full of sadness.

"Not a problem," he tells her. He grabs a datapad from the table by her side. "I'll just be outside. If you need me, just call."

Then he walks out, and she's alone. Just like she wanted. She closes her eyes, and tries to relax. Her burst of adrenaline is tapering off anyway, and it's being replaced by a heavy, heavy, weariness.

This is okay, she tries to tell herself. This is okay. It's a lie of course, and hardly a believable one, but it calms her down nonetheless.

Ever since the General stormed out of the medbay in one of his tempers, Rex has been on edge. He didn't hear any shouting or screaming from his place seated outside of the medbay, but that doesn't mean something didn't happen, and Rex is, maybe slightly irrationally, scared that something has happened with Ahsoka.

Still, he resists the urge to get up and barge into the medbay like he wants to, because he trusts Kix. He knows what he's doing, and if something is wrong, Rex doesn't want to make it worse. Kix knows he's outside waiting. If Rex was needed, Kix would have let him know.

So all he can do is sit and wait, no matter how much it eats at his sanity. By now, he's sat outside for so long that his mission reports are all completed, double checked and sent to command. All there is to do now is scan his eyes over his writing under the pretense that he's post-checking for errors, and hope that it's enough to distract him. So far, it has been, but it's slowly beginning to not be.

He almost wishes that he didn't send Fives and Jesse away, if only to take his mind off what's happening inside the medbay.

Rex manages to read his report three more times before Kix walks through the door and puts him out of his misery. He quickly stands up when Kix meets his eyes, his carefully held back impatience slowly resurfacing.

"Is she okay?" he asks.

Kix just rubs a hand over his face tiredly and says "Define okay," which does absolutely nothing to reassure Rex of anything. "I've finished treating her, and she's awake if that's what you're asking."

It's not, but it's good news and he'll take as much of that as he can get, because there hasn't been much of it lately.

"Rape kit's negative," Kix says, and Rex wants to sigh in relief because that is good news, but he doesn't yet, because that's not all. That doesn't explain Kix's suddenly murderous face, or why the datapad is clenched so tightly in his hands that the sharp edge of his plastoid gloves look like they might crack the screen..

"What is it, Kix?" he prompts. Kix looks like he's struggling with what to say next, and Rex prepares for the worst. He's right to of course, because the next blow makes Rex's heart drop to his stomach.

"The kit only detects recent assaults. All it means is that nothing happened in the last month. But when I administered the test, I noticed chafing…" and Rex's heart drops. So she was... The kriffing slaver was telling the truth. "It was quite severe Rex. Either it was done with something big, or it was before she was fully grown." It remains unsaid which one it might be, but they both know it was likely the latter.

It's a shame Agruss is dead. Though apparently her owner might not be, and if he's somewhere out there, he'll do just fine to satiate Rex's blasters. Someone hurt his Commander, badly. She was a kid when it happened. It's not fair.

He so badly didn't want to be right. He tried so hard to make himself believe that he wasn't right. Togrutas are adults by sixteen years. How could they. How dare they.

All because he didn't have the courage to follow his gut instead of his orders. It seems to be a recurring theme for him after the Umbara campaign. And everytime it happens, the people he cares about pay the price. He doesn't deserve to be Captain. His men deserve better. Ahsoka deserves better.

"I've only told you and the Generals," Kix says. "It's in her medfiles too so the medics can access it if they happen to go looking, but no one else needs to know."

He's asking Rex for discretion. He didn't need to of course, but he's grateful nonetheless, because he knows Kix will have her back on this. They all will.

"Anything else?" He asks.

"She won't sleep Rex," Kix tells him. It's something that normally irritates Kix to no end when the men refuse to rest, but he just looks helpless now. This time it isn't out of stubbornness, but out of a hint of fear.

Rex knows why of course. He saw it on Kadavo, when slaves were tortured to the point of unconsciousness. They were reprimanded. Harshly. And the next time their wakefulness was challenged, they forced their eyes open in terror. The slaves were taught to do nothing without permission, not even rest, and the longer they remained enslaved, the more they were conditioned. It made the Kamino flash training program look like youngling-creche.

Still, he knows that Ahsoka needs to sleep, and though it's different now because they were told to sleep at the time, he was with her for two night cycles on Kadavo. Both times, she fell asleep before he did, and if his presence can bring her any sort of… reassurance right now, it's worth a shot. Given that it doesn't make everything worse, because she was always either angry or indifferent towards him on Kadavo, and he's not entirely sure she will even want to see him.

"I'll stay with her," he decides before he can change his mind. If she decides that she doesn't want him there like he's half expecting, he'll leave and wait outside again. "I'll see if I can get her to sleep, or keep her company if she doesn't. You've done enough Kix."

Kix doesn't even attempt to argue, which says something about how out of his depth he feels. Kix has always been one to fight tooth and nail until the last patient was discharged. Now, he just nods tiredly and his semi-strict stance slumps to reveal his true exhaustion.

"Be careful with her Rex," he says warily. "Her trauma… it's worse than any trooper post-campaign. Even the ones that were under interrogation." Then he looks away, his face pained. "I thought I'd know how to deal with it, how to help at least. But I don't."

Kix looks so lost, like he's struggling to keep himself in check. It's such an unusual sight on the usually confident senior medic, and Rex reaches out and rests a hand to his shoulder in comfort, though he feels like he's cracking himself.

Rex doesn't know how to help either. He wishes he did, because a part of this is his fault, but he just doesn't know what to do. But he's the captain. He has to do something, because his trooper is tired and upset, and his Commander is hurting in the medbay. This isn't about him.

"You did well Kix," he says, though he knows that Kix doesn't believe him. "Head back to the barracks to get some rest. I'll comm you if anything happens."

Kix nods and slowly drags himself down the corridor towards the barracks. Then it's just Rex and the medbay door. And Ahsoka who waits inside. Haar'chak, he was an idiot to even think this was a good idea. He knows he can't comm Kix because the medic needs his rest, but Coric is currently off duty and just a call away.

No. He owes her this. And if he can't push past his apprehension to do just this one thing for her, then he's not deserving of his rank.

So he pushes open the medbay door and steps inside.

He's drawn to Ahsoka's eyes almost immediately. The facility in Kadavo was dim and red-lit and hard to perceive colour in, so the blueness of them almost makes him startle. He'd forgotten just how bright they were, as if they might have glowed when the lights went out.

Her gaze is wary and untrusting, just as it was on Kadavo, and she's propped herself up on an arm to remain seated upright on the bed. He's not surprised really, though he knows that with her injuries, she probably should be lying down.

He approaches her slowly, and her eyes follow his movement closely. She's tense, and the closer he gets, the more he can see that she's subtly positioning herself differently, like she's getting ready to leap. To flee. She doesn't though, so he keeps walking until he's right by her side, and he slides himself into the chair that's already beside her bed.

She's still watching him, still suspicious of him. He doesn't say anything straight away. He won't, not until she does first, until she decides it's okay.

She doesn't at first, but then wariness turns to indifference, and then to nothing, as she chooses instead to focus her eyes on her blanket.

"Rex," she croaks out. He smiles at her softly, though she's still not looking at him.

"Ahsoka," he breathes, and lets her name linger on his lips, lets it dissipate back into silence.

Neither of them say anything after that. They simply sit together and listen to the quiet hum of the medical machinery. He takes her in slowly, letting himself look at her properly for the first time in years.

Her montrals arch a little taller over her head. There's a hint of an elegant curve at the top, and while her right lekku only runs down to her collarbone, her left one nears the bottom of her ribcage. Her facial markings have changed too, they fan out a little farther on her cheekbones and on her forehead. She's lost the roundness of her face. Out of age or malnutrition, he doesn't know, though he suspects both.

Ahsoka Tano. Almost an entirely different person sits in front of him. Cautious and quiet where she used to be brash and carefree. Still unwilling to meet his eyes.

Rex doesn't realise just how much he's missed her until now. Not just as a commander, or a fellow soldier, or even as a mentee, but as a friend. As a source of happy-go-lucky childishness, the only reason he would have had a reason to laugh in the middle of a war.

A soft, shaky breath escapes from her, and Rex's eyes snap back to her face. She's struggling to keep her eyes open, struggling to stay awake. Each time she blinks, it looks like it takes effort to force them back open. It hurts to see her struggle. It's not right that something as simple as sleep shouldn't come naturally. She shouldn't have to torture her body into compliance for a slaver he'd die before he let near her again.

It's not right. None of this is right. But he understands, and he knows better than to try and convince her otherwise. Some things just can't be simply presumed. Only unlearnt overtime with trust and reassurance. He swears on his name that he'll do his best to give her that. It's what she deserves.

"If you fall asleep, I'll wake you up if someone comes," he tells her, and though he can see that she doesn't quite trust what he's saying right now, her eyes are becoming heavier and heavier. Her gaze is going in and out of focus. It won't be long until she sleeps on her own accord. That's not the problem now, the problem is that Rex wants her to feel a little safer when she finally does. He wants the sleep to come without the frantic urge to force herself awake prematurely.

"Even if it's only Kix," he promises. "Even if it's only Anakin. I'll wake you up. And I won't leave until you do."

She doesn't say anything. Just stares sleepily and fearfully at him, like her fatigue is coming too fast for her to deal with. But when she searches for something in his gaze, which he tries to keep as gentle as possible, she slowly leans back onto her pillows and nods slightly, before she turns her eyes to the ceiling to stare at the sterile white paint.

It takes another reassurance, then another, and when he promises for the last time, her eyes flutter closed, and they don't open again.

MANDO'A TRANLATIONS:
- Haar'chak - Damn it

And there you have it! Chapter six done and dusted. Just some initial interactions with some of the key characters in this chapter. Nothing too much yet.

Let me know what you thought of it, feedback is always welcome!

See you for chapter 7!