DESTINY - CHAPTER 06

Freshly fallen leaves cushioned Ahsoka's boots as she trudged through the dark toward her hut. The warm season had waned, bringing cooler weather and shorter days.

The past two months since the clone's arrival had been a whirlwind of activity. Along with preparing the camp for the cold season, the clan had run nine salvage missions to acquire supplies and then redistribute those supplies to various needy communities throughout the sector. Everyone had been working nonstop to accomplish as much as possible before the weather turned.

Ahsoka pushed aside the heavy tarp covering her hut's entry and stepped inside. She was bone tired and mind weary after another long day and wanted nothing more than to rest by her fire. She knew that sleep, if it came, would be little and restless.

Hanging her cloak on the wall, Ahsoka pulled off her boots and slipped out of her jumpsuit and under clothes. Even with the fire burning, the air was cool and pebbled her skin. She quickly pulled on a long sleeping gown and spread out her bedroll by the fire. She flopped down on her back and pulled several blankets over her.

Her eyes tracked the shadows dancing across the ceiling, spawned by the flickering flames. Shivering, Ahsoka burrowed deeper into the blankets. She'd learned long ago that it took time for a solitary body to warm itself.

Sometimes she envied other members of the clan who had partners and the promise of a body at night to give them warmth — and other things. Sometimes she thought of those other things. Especially when the chemistry of her body fought against the discipline of her mind.

After Ahsoka had left the Jedi she'd moved around Courscant for several years, working odd jobs just to survive. Eventually her body matured, bringing with it a physical drive and mental curiosity about sex. But the Order had provided her no information or tools to deal with the strange new desires coursing through her.

Between her eighteenth and nineteenth years she'd been fortunate to meet a human male just a few years older than she who took her to his bed. He'd taught her about her body, and his.

Though Ahsoka had felt affection for him, eventually she couldn't find the deeper emotional connection her spirit craved during such intimate physical contact. She knew it was probably more her fault than his. Her Jedi training had made it impossible for her to be open and vulnerable enough to allow a deeper connection to grow.

So, she'd moved on after a year.

Over the past many years since leaving Courscant Ahsoka had taken several lovers to her bed. Always with the mutual understanding that their physical passion was for their shared gratification and pleasure, nothing more. Still, as she grew older, sex only reminded her of what she was incapable of having and she grew more disillusioned.

It had taken her a long time to admit that her soul had been broken by the Jedi. That she was capable only of platonic love. That intimate, romantic love would not be a part of her life.

Now, she considered herself celibate, given that the last time she'd had sex was two years ago.

With Bandrix.

Ahsoka didn't consider that a mistake. He'd just joined the clan, he was Togruta and she'd been attracted to him. But Bandrix had become so enamored with her he'd abandoned their mutual agreement to share only their bodies and not a relationship. He'd fallen in love with her and when she hadn't reciprocated, he'd taken it hard. He'd still done his job, and though he naturally had a difficult personality, he continued to treat her with respect. But he was still in love with her and Ahsoka couldn't deny that it weighed on her.

There were so many responsibilities that weighed on her these days. Especially the clone. Ashoka sighed and turned on her side to look into the fire.

She couldn't keep him locked up forever. Nor could she release him. At least, not yet. Maybe after the cold season. Maybe then it would be time to move their camp to another world. After all, they'd been here for over two standard years.

She'd keep the clone here while they moved so he wouldn't know where they'd relocated. Then she'd take him to a world where he could contact the GAR. That way he couldn't reveal their location, even if he wanted to.

Although, from what she'd learned about him over the past eight weeks she doubted that he would intentionally do anything that might bring them harm. He had turned out to be an enigma, continually surprising her when she least expected it.

Ahsoka smiled, remembering his attempt on his first night in the storage shed to gather intelligence by trying to get her to interact with him. His intent had been transparent to someone with Jedi training. Still, he'd surprised her by recognizing her competitive nature and using that to lure her into a Sabacc game. He was shrewd and she had to give him credit. Despite her better judgement, she'd been unable to back down from his challenge.

That evening after their game it had dawned on Ahsoka that the clone's strategy of trying to interact to gain information could work just as well for her. Probably more so, since she could use the Force to enhance her senses.

She'd gone back to the clone a couple of days later with his evening meal. When he'd finished she'd gestured toward the Sabacc deck on the table and given him a look charged with every bit of smugness and challenge she could muster. She'd almost burst out laughing at the expression on his face.

Since that night, she'd gone back two or three times a week, bringing his evening meal and playing Sabacc. Looking back, she was glad she'd let her ego get the better of her.

She'd learned a lot about the clone during their time together. As they'd play, Ahsoka would immerse herself in the Force. She didn't attempt to reach into his mind. She knew that wouldn't work after she'd tried once before and he'd caught her and shut her out. Instead, she'd allowed his energy to flow to her and through her, revealing his emotions and his sense of self.

What she'd learned made her begin to reevaluate clones in general, and this clone in particular. He was different from the picture painted by her prejudices and preconceptions.

He was a soldier, to be sure, defined by honor and duty. His energy thrummed with decisiveness, comfort with command and willingness to take responsibility.

Over the course of many evenings in his presence Ahsoka began to realize that he was not only driven by duty, but by emotions as well. They were controlled and hidden beneath his warrior's mantel, but they were a powerful and essential part of him.

As a soldier he was hard and controlled and powerful. But there was a softness to his Force energy, a compassion for others. She could sense he was fiercely protective of those he cared about — most likely his clone brothers. But Ahsoka had felt a similar spark of energy from him toward T'annon when the young healer had checked his injuries the morning he'd been brought before the council and informed of his imprisonment.

And he emanated another energy that she'd felt a few times when she'd caught him looking at her from behind the cards in his hands. The distinctly male energy of desire.

At first, his fleeting surges of desire had made her uncomfortable. But as the days passed she'd begun to see him as an individual, not as the biological automaton she'd believed all clones to be. It made sense that his emotions and desires would encompass all those natural to a human male. And she had to admit to herself, he was attractive and emanated a compelling masculinity.

A few times she'd even caught herself appreciating his attention, wondering what it would be like if he acted on his interest in her. Wondering what she would do if he did.

As their Sabacc games transitioned into a routine, Ahsoka found herself less focused on Rex's energy signature and more focused on the sheer joy of the game — of losing herself in the challenge and competition. Forgetting, for just a short time, the burdens she carried, and her growing fear of the dark side of the Force. If she were honest with herself, she enjoyed his company. The irony of those feelings and the fact that Rex was her prisoner had not been lost on her.

Ahsoka sighed, frustrated that her mind would not quiet. She needed to meditate if sleep had any chance of finding her tonight.

Ahsoka sat up, crossed her legs, wrapped the blankets around her and, though no longer a Jedi, began to practice a Jedi tradition thousands of years old.

The thing Rex hated most about being a prisoner was the boredom.

As he sat in his small room waiting for the delivery of his evening meal, Rex scratched another hashmark on the wall, marking his one hundred and twenty-third day of captivity. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for getting through another rotation without putting himself out of his misery.

The first month hadn't been too bad.

Rex had scoured the storage building looking for anything he could use to remove his restraining collar and escape but found nothing helpful. Eventually he'd started cleaning-up and organizing the large space, just to keep his mind occupied. Each day when Waunado would show up he'd survey Rex's progress, grunt in satisfaction and then leave to go about his business. Eventually, Rex found he looked forward to the Ugnaught's inspections and approval.

As the weeks stretched into months Rex started fixing some of the broken machines stacked in the corners and stuffed into boxes throughout the building just to have something to do. He was a decent mechanic and even Waunado had been impressed when he'd found a water recycling unit Rex had gotten working again.

Each morning and evening someone brought him food. It was one of the few contacts he had with another living being and Rex looked forward to those visits. Most often it was someone from the commander's inner circle; Dian'thy, Kip, Reesa, Manami or Waunado.

Even T'annon had started to bring him a cup of caf and a pastry of some type around mid-morning, several days a week. As the months passed and the weather grew colder she'd started to visit in the afternoons as well, after she'd finished attending to clan members who needed healing beyond what the resident physician could provide. She and Rex would spend an hour or two together playing a game or just talking.

Rex told her stories of the many worlds he'd visited in the Outer Rim. He didn't recount battles, or missions, or scenes of war. Instead, he shared with her the natural beauty of each planet and the rich cultures of the beings inhabiting each. T'annon would sit for hours, mesmerized by his tales. She was like a sponge, absorbing everything and wanting to know more. Her excitement and appreciation were contagious and Rex looked forward to spending time with T'annon more than anyone else, except possibly, the commander.

Sometimes other clan members Rex didn't know would deliver his meals, and he had slowly pieced together a better understanding of the folks who'd come to live in this strange clan of misfits. They would usually stay while he ate and Rex took advantage of the time by making small talk — as much to break the monotony as to glean any information that might help him escape. Most were friendly and seemed comfortable talking about themselves. But it was clear everyone had been instructed to keep sensitive information about clan operations to themselves. After a while Rex had resigned himself to just try to get to know each individual a little better.

It hadn't been hard to figure out the big picture about the camp and its diverse community of inhabitants. They were almost all refugees or exiles. Disenfranchised beings who were bitter toward the Separatists, the Republic, or both. It seemed almost everyone had a story of tragedy and hardship caused by the war. Tragedy and hardship which had eventually brought them to this place, and to the commander.

Though the clan members shared information about themselves freely, they were pointedly unresponsive about his furtive attempts to find out more about the commander, including her name. Although, it seemed they didn't have much information to withhold because they didn't really know that much about her. But one thing was abundantly clear, every one of them had a deep respect and affection for the commander and followed her leadership willingly.

All in all, nothing that he'd learned so far, nor any circumstance about his imprisonment, had been all that surprising.

Except for one very peculiar thing.

After the first night Rex had spent in the storage shed, the night when he'd goaded the commander into a game of Sabacc — she'd kept coming back to play.

About twice a week the commander would show up with his evening meal and when he was finished, they'd deal the cards and play. The first time she'd returned she'd sat quietly watching him eat. When he'd finished she'd nodded to the Sabacc cards sitting on the table. Rex had been stunned, but he wisely hadn't said a word. He'd pushed the cards toward her, grabbed the can of hardware from a work bench, split the contents between them, sat down and played.

Rex was a good Sabacc player, probably the best in the 501st. But the Togruta was a skilled and aggressive player and more often than not, after an hour of play, all of the nuts, bolts and washers ended up in front of her.

Conversation during the games was minimal at first, mostly just what was required to play. She'd made no attempt to gloat, intimidate, threaten, or interrogate. More surprisingly, she hadn't tried to probe his mind again with the Force. She'd just seemed to lose herself in the challenge and enjoyment of the game. As the weeks went on, their small talk expanded to encompass some things they both had experience with, like starship mechanics, cultural proclivities of particular species, or weapons and tactics. But the commander was shrewd and remained tight-lipped regarding anything about herself or the community.

On one hand, the fact that she'd kept coming back every couple of days made no sense to Rex, and it vexed him almost as much as not being able to find out her name. For the life of him he couldn't figure out what motivated her to return, especially when she'd expressed her deep contempt for clones.

On the other hand, he was grateful for the company of another person and he'd started to look forward to their games and conversations. Afterall, she was a challenging opponent and — he had to admit — very pleasant on the eyes.

Rex's stomach grumbled, pulling him out of his thoughts and reminding him it was well past the time when his evening meal normally arrived. He exited his small room and walked toward the table to wait.

The last time the commander had stayed to play cards had been three days ago. He'd been hoping she'd be coming to play tonight. But the late meal didn't bode well for a game of Sabacc this evening.

The sound of the door opening pulled Rex's attention to it. His feelings changed from disappointment to pleasure as the commander stepped inside. As he studied her while she walked across the floor his pleasure morphed into concern.

She placed a plate of food on the table. Unfastening her cloak's clasp, she draped it over the back of the chair and sagged down into the seat without saying a word, her eyes fixed on the tabletop. Then she seemed to catch herself and looked up.

"Sorry this is late," she said.

Rex could hear the fatigue in her voice. Her shoulders were slumped and there were dark circles coloring the sienna skin under her eyes. He knew the signs of the stress of command when he saw them. He'd been there more times than he could count.

But there was something more going on. Rex focused again on the commander's impossibly blue eyes and after a moment he saw it — sadness, remorse and the gut-wrenching guilt of taking someone's life.

Rex had seen it in eyes identical to his own, reflected back to him by a thousand brothers over the past eight years.

Scrapping droids wasn't a problem for him. But having to kill a sentient being — even if that being was trying to kill him — always left Rex with a gut full of guilt and a mind full of doubt about who he was and what he'd been bred to do.

The commander just stared at him with dull eyes, looking right through him as if he wasn't there. Rex sat but didn't reach for the food. He'd been in this exact spot — sitting across from a shell-shocked shiny who'd just come from a battle where he'd killed his first flesh and blood enemy.

Rex did what he'd always done — he just sat and focused his attention completely on the commander, willing her to know that she wasn't alone.

After a while the commander's eyes focused, making contact with Rex's gaze, and she flinched.

She nodded toward the plate of food. "Aren't you hungry?" she asked.

Rex sat silent for a beat. Then he softly said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

The commander dropped her gaze and sat back in the chair. "Talk about what?" she said.

Rex blew out a breath. "Killing is a hard thing," he said.

The commander brought her surprised eyes back to his. "How …?"

"The look on your face — I've seen it more times than I can count on the faces of my men," Rex said.

The commander let out a sigh and ducked her head. After a long stretch of silence she spoke, her eyes glued on her hands folded in her lap.

"It's my job to keep my people safe," she said. "I try to keep the risks minimal."

"But something went wrong," Rex said.

The commander nodded. "I didn't have a choice," she said, her voice shaky and small. "Pirates attacked us. We had to defend ourselves. He was going to shoot one of my crew." She shook her head back and forth, her hands clenched together so tight the color was draining from their skin.

Rex waited patiently as she fought to keep her emotions in check. When he'd sensed she'd calmed he said, "You did what you had to do to protect your people. You can't second guess yourself."

"I know," the commander said. "I've had to … kill before. It makes me sick to my stomach."

"That's good," Rex said, leaning toward her.

The commander raised her head and he caught her eyes.

"It should always turn your stomach. It should hurt every single time. If it doesn't, you'll lose your soul." He pointed a finger at her. "You've still got yours."

"Hah," she chuffed out a sardonic laugh. "I almost killed you."

"But you didn't."

"I told you how much I hated you," she retorted, "even though you weren't at the Battle of Shili."

"Your anger isn't about me," Rex said. "Your anger is there to protect you from your fear."

The commander crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. "What fear?"

"You're afraid that if you grieve the loss of your people, the pain will be more than you can bear," Rex said softly.

The commander's expression went cold and her voice was menacing. "How dare you assume you know anything about how I feel."

Rex didn't flinch and returned her glare with his own. "There isn't anyone else in the universe that knows more about how you feel than me," he snapped back.

"You lost millions of your kind. And so have I," Rex continued. "Over a quarter million clones died at the Battle of Shili. Over the past 10 years millions more have fallen.

"These men weren't just my people, they were literally my brothers. I'd never met most of them, but I still knew all of them. The bond of family is no less strong among clones as any other siblings sharing the same DNA."

Rex stared at the commander, daring her to argue.

She stared back but remained silent.

"We marched into battle, fighting for a cause we'd been programmed to die for," Rex continued. "Without choice, without options. And every single time one of my brothers didn't survive — when I did— I was angry and it tore a hole in my gut."

The commander averted her eyes and Rex knew a look of shame when he saw it.

He sat back in his chair and took time to cool off.

After another long silence the commander said, "Maybe you do understand. I'd never considered what it would be like for a … for someone like you. I'm sorry."

"Most people aren't interested about what a clone feels," he said.

She met his gaze again, her eyes earnest now. "How do you deal with it and not go crazy?"

"Family," Rex said. He leaned toward her again. "I can't deal with that kind of pain by myself. I'm not strong enough. If I push it down and bottle it up, eventually I'll explode." He chuffed out a humorless laugh. "Believe me, I know from experience.

"But when I rely on my brothers, they shoulder part of a burden that's too heavy for me alone. Eventually the pain becomes less. It never completely goes away, but I can live with myself and keep going." Rex gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Sometimes you have to ask for help."

The commander looked down at her hands again, her white brows pinched in thought.

Rex had had this same conversation with hundreds of his men over the years, so he knew when enough was enough. He'd let her think on what he'd said, but not long enough to get overwhelmed again.

After a while Rex cleared his throat. "Are you still up for a game? Nothing like Sabacc to take your mind off your woes."

The commander looked up and pushed out a weary laugh. "Hah. My woes? Is that what's going on? I have … woes?"

"Come on," Rex said. "I'll give you a ten-point handicap."

"If anyone needs a handicap, it's you," she said.

Rex gave her his best innocent grin and pushed the deck across the table to her. He grabbed the can of hardware from the workbench behind him and divided the contents between them as she dealt the cards.

Rex focused on his cards, building his strategy while he waited for the commander to announce her opening bid. When it didn't come, he looked up to find her studying him with an intense expression he couldn't decipher.

Then her lips moved and her voice followed, soft and clear.

"Thank you."

Suddenly there was a lump in his throat, but he managed to force his voice past it.

"Anytime."