Reminder: Please kindly note that this is a remix of angelrider13's fic titled: Resist Order 66. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

- Part 2

Of Tiplee, her Commander, and the sister that binds them both.

This is supposed to be easy. It's the first time in a long time that she's back on the field rather than on the sideline where she had been left to wonder at what it was like to reach for the stars again. But then again, nothing ever came easy since Tiplar died soundlessly.

Tiplee had resolved to die loud and proud after that because if there is one thing she can no longer stand, it is silence.

The Force is raging and screaming- a million thousand voices suddenly crying out in terror before suddenly going quiet- and Tiplee finds that this utter emptiness is more horrifying than anything she's felt in her entire life.

That's saying something when she's been stabbed through the chest, the fading white mark a symbol of her failure once again. The same place on her chest is hurting right now and it anchors her back to the surface, the past flashing before her on her way out of the deep.

The past, which is too eerily close to the present, because this is suppose to be easy, but nothing is so simple when she had peered over the rocks for danger. She had heard a small pebble skitter its way across the terrain and felt something behind her; then, pain exploded on her back and she had turned, blade out before she even registered the weight of the weapon in her hand. She had turned and she had wished she hadn't when she came face to face to her Commander, blaster raised.

Instinct had her cutting Doom's weapon in half and going for his legs next before she could stop herself. There was a moment during their skirmish, when she had slammed the lightsaber into the offending rocks that Doom had fallen back on, that she thinks this is absurd. Why are they even fighting? Why is this even happening?

Then, there had been nothing to think as Doom lanches forward and they were a mess of limbs as they went tumbling over the ravine and down an incline. She hit armor, rock, then ground. The impact of it all knocked the air out of Tiplee. By the time she had been aware of anything, Doom had turned on her, his hands around her throat.

Dimly, she had thought that if the questions and doubts she's had on Ringo Vinda could not be answered in this life, perhaps they will be answered in the next as Doom presses down to cut off all her air.

His helmet had flown off in their scuffle. His face had been blank and stone still. His movements were mechanical as they continued the pressure on her throat, even as she had fought and pushed and clawed. He seemed to not even notice her erratic fight to live until she had spat at him in some desperate act that didn't really amount to anything but.. But…

Doom's eyes were suddenly no longer unreadable and the pressure on her throat had ceased. She took no chances and shoved. The Commander had flown and cracked against the rock surface, but she couldn't really register it when she's too busy trying to suck in as much air as she could.

It had been far too easy. She didn't even need to call for her lightsaber to jump into her hands as if the weapon had been longing for someone to hold it. In one beat and the next, she had the blade out to Doom's neck because how dare he do this and betray the trust she had for him.

They had exchanged words, but she no longer remembers them because the Force had screamed. Tiplee finally surfaces from the deep to find herself doubled over in front of her unmoving Commander. She feels numb and wonders if this silence is what she has to live with her now; the Force is a void and she doesn't dare to reach back into it.

"-ral. Sir."

She blinks, uncomprehending.

"General," Doom calls again and this time, there is something in his voice that makes her finally look at him anew.

"Please. You need to leave. Take the fighter and go!"

"What-" she cuts off, aware of how her voice sounds raw and broken as if she's been screaming. Maybe she has. "You will have me leave you?"

"Yes," Doom coughs, still unmoving, and Tiplee vaguely wonders if he's just too damaged. "Please. You have to. Order 66- We have to kill- the Jedi-" He stops to cough again and this time, she can see blood.

The same blood that had been spilt the day her sister had dropped wordlessly from another clone's betrayal. But there is something else going on because Doom is clearly fighting for control in his own body, his lips curling into a sour note with a grimace that isn't entirely pain.

"No," she states even as her wounds ache. "Absolutely not."

"Please," Doom begs. His fingers twitch and Tiplee is glad that he no longer has any more weapons to brandish at her. "Sir-"

She towers over him as she stands up, ignoring the way her legs are shaking. "I'm getting answers, Commander," she announces. "One way or another."

Doom sighs and it is a quiet thing that nonetheless seems to echo and bounce off the rocks around them. "I don't want to have to kill you," he says more to the ground than to her.

"You won't," she replies, clipping her lightsaber back to her side, because she's starting to understand what is happening. There had been a plan, a cruel attempt to destroy the Jedi and the Force and all things good in this galaxy. But it had failed because of clones like Doom who is tearing themselves to pieces by disobeying the order. "Besides, you can't move."

A grim smile ghosted on her Commander's face before it drops. "It doesn't matter. You're better off kill-"

"I won't do that," Tiplee says with more force than needed. "I need you." What she doesn't say is that she cares far too much for someone who's supposed to be unattached and unemotional to all because that's what the code states but now… but now…

The Jedi are dead. Order is gone. And someone will pay for ripping out everything she has ever known.

"We're leaving." She's already reaching towards Doom before he can stop her.

"Please, just let me be," he croaks out even as she pulls him up and over a shoulder, the both of them stumbling back up the path to their fighter.

"Never," she answers back, sweat dotting her forehead that has nothing to do with the Commander's extra weight on her bad arm. "Tiplar wouldn't want me to leave you behind."

That one sentence seems to shut Doom down for she feels him shudder against her. She no longer knows if he's shaking or if she is and she thinks it's best to not dwell on it. What she had said was true. Tiplar would never forgive her in this life or the next if she had left her Commander here amongst the ashes of both their hearts. Instead, she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other as their Starfighter comes into view.

Doom makes a noise that sounds more like a whine than anything else before he spits more blood onto the floor. It splatters on both their shoes and not for the first time, Tiplee wishes she has the patience to be a healer. She lifts him onto a table, double checking, then triple checking he is strapped in tight; he had passed out somewhere between the last few clicks towards the fighter and she cannot blame him when his face is too tired and exhausted to be that of someone of only three years. The medical droid flicks on with a wave of her hand and it immediately goes to work, hovering over her Commander.

Satisfied, she stumbles over to the pilot seat and finds herself collapsing into it. She wonders if this is what stars must feel like when she blinks to consciousness after a few beats of darkness. Her hands are sticky as she forces them onto the controls. The fighter's engine hums to life and starts their ascent; they're flying, and she feels like she's floating as well as this forsaken rocky planet disappears from her view.

She hurts. She's bleeding and crying and longing for the embrace of a sister long gone. Doom is broken. The Jedi are dead. The Force is silent. What can she do now as the Starfighter takes its long journey to avoid the fleet overhead. Tiplee leans back in her seat as she relinquishes control because right now, everything aches, and she wants rest because her Commander is lying and dying several paces behind. She prays that someone can hear her oath of blood and bone, of her whisper to please save him, and of her cries for those who have disappeared into the dark.

She reaches into the Force and she senses several movements- and Tiplee smiles even as she mourns because there are some still alive and safe and she will find them no matter what, Commander in tow. This, she vows.

She feels a hand on her brow and closes her eyes.

Rest, sister.

Next to her, Tiplar brushes her sister's tendrils from her face before kissing her forehead; in her sleep, Tiplee dreams of green soothing light and warm arms around her.

A/N:

- At first, I didn't like this chapter but as I kept writing and editing it, this actually grew on me.

- Hope you enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated! :)