Disclaimer: The OC, Dack Meridian, is my main man, but everything else is just borrowed.

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1. Departures and Farewells

"You just... sounded a charge?" Joclad stared at Dack Meridian's hologram in astonishment as Cin Drallig snickered in the background.

Dack shrugged, brushing some snow off his Republic-issued uniform. In the shimmering aquamarine of the hologram, his mismatched eyes were both the same dull blue shade, something that likely would not displease him.

"Look, General Danva, when you get here, you can take over." Dack pointed at himself. "I'm just substituting – and why did you get a farewell feast?"

"Because Master Drallig got sick of Serra complaining about his cooking and – stop changing the subject. You're a general, aren't you?" Joclad looked into the box of take-out Mantellian and spotted a morsel he fully intended on consuming before he left. As it turned out, Cin's idea of treating his former-padawan-turned-general to dinner mercifully did not include his own cooking, and thus Joclad had emptied out six of the bright red containers.

"No, I'm Acting General. You know very well Myri was the brains of this operation. I just kept the troops amused." Dack turned around abruptly and started waving his hands at someone out of view. "No! Don't put the fuel in the--"

Dack cringed away, and the hologram rippled as something out of sight exploded. Joclad massaged his temples and peered at the hologram from underneath his hands. "How did you get assigned to Rhen Var?"

"He's got no head for tactics," Cin said, scraping the last bit of meat off his plate. He pointed his fork at Joclad in warning. "Better get moving, or he'll destroy the planet before breakfast."

"I heard that," Dack said gruffly, "and I'm not a tactician. I'm the undercover man, damn you all. I should be infiltrating Dooku's palace."

"Dooku's dead."

"Which is why I should have been assigned there before Skywalker offed him. I could have changed the whole course of the war!" Dack abruptly wheeled around in alarm. "No, don't--oh, Force, they're going to kill us all." He looked back, eyes wide. "Tell Master Windu the pilots are defective."

Joclad gave up on dinner and pushed the box away. "I don't think the Rhen Var pilot contingent is comprised of clones, Dack."

"Oh." A short nod as his friend absorbed the information. Joclad took heart in the fact that Dack looked no more harried than usual, though his light brown hair reflected a shaggy unkemptness that the normally spotless Corellian would not have permitted in the temple.

Dack shrugged. "That explains the idiocy. Right. Well, I'm off to clean up the pieces of the ARC unit. There's a nasty storm on the way, so I don't think CIS is coming on tonight. See you soon!" Dack gave them both a cheery, immensely fake smile, and signed off.

The snickering from his former master started to wear on Joclad's nerves, and he picked up his robe. It draped reassuringly over the dark fabric of his tunic. "He's right, you know."

Cin smothered a chortle. "I agree; that boy should be in a sideshow somewhere, not running around on a battlefield. I can't believe Windu sent him to Rhen Var, Myri or not."

The two men started walking toward the door, leaving the remains of Cin's farewell dinner spread out on the table. Joclad had no doubt that Cin's current padawan, Serra, and her friend Bene would come sneaking by later on and devour it. Serra loathed Master Drallig's cooking as much as Joclad but had learned to schedule her sparring matches with Bene right in the middle of the prescribed dinnertimes – thus giving herself a way out.

"Dack is capable," Joclad said, though he - along with the rest of the temple – had no idea what Master Windu meant to accomplish by sending Dack Meridian to a battlefield, especially one as savage as Rhen Var. "Dack does have experience in open combat," he pointed out, feeling he ought to defend his friend. "Some of the newer Knights are sorely lacking in this, and—"

Cin palmed the door, and they stepped into the hallway. "Oh, I've heard rave reviews of his performance on Geonosis... all five minutes of it." The tone told Joclad exactly what Cin thought of that performance, and the younger man wisely held his tongue. Twenty-odd years of companionship, and Joclad still couldn't win an argument with the man. Nor did he try.

"I assume they think he's got a lucky streak, and they're hedging all bets on that," Cin continued, adjusting his dark-brown tabards. He gestured toward the sparsely populated corridor. "And so we have this: empty hallways and parole officers being requisitioned for war. Meanwhile, Serra has better field sense than Meridian. You had better field sense when you were about nine years old… though I don't know if you've improved since then."

Joclad chose to ignore the jab. "I always was an advanced child. And Serra – well, Serra is… Serra."

His old master snorted and waved a hand over the hangar lock. The door slid open, and Cin nearly collided with an excited padawan. "There now, boy! What's the matter?"

"Kenobi's engaged Grievous! We think he's winning!"

The padawan dashed off in a most un-Jedi-like display of enthusiasm, apparently not caring to hear Cin's response. Joclad's mood abruptly lightened; if Grievous were stopped, the war might come to a halt right then and there. He felt the rest of the Jedi Temple coming alive as news of the encounter spread; hope flickering to life in the Knights, the Masters, and the padawans. Kenobi is fighting him! First the head - Dooku - and now the torso - Grievous. Joclad picked up his pace somewhat, eager for more news. All we need now...

"The legs," Cin murmured, either reading Joclad's expression or picking it up through the remains of their training bond. "Harder to kill, and they support the rest."

"One step at a time, then." Joclad paused as he received a snicker and a waggling finger. "Oh, don't even..."

"What?" Cin grinned, clapping a hand on Joclad's shoulder and squeezing warmly. "Your word choice was splendid. Almost... inspired. Ah, there's your ship."

Damn, they sent the little one. Joclad looked at his issued transport somewhat distrustfully, noting the scorch marks on the side of its hull. Paint jobs were an expensive luxury for a government at war, and as such the smaller vessels in the fleet had acquired a shabby appearance.

A clone trooper saluted as they approached, and then vanished inside the ship to warm it up.

Joclad stood with Cin to the side, part of him wanting to wait until further word of Kenobi's adventure came through. Instead, he turned to Cin. "You will keep me posted about Grievous."

"You don't need to mind-trick me, boy. Now, let's have a look at you," Cin said, giving him the classic master-padawan once-over that Joclad tended to fail dismally. Nothing escaped the sharp blue eyes of Cin Drallig, even after his admittedly troublesome padawan stepped up into the ranks of the Jedi Knights. After all, Joclad represented him as much as the temple when he went off on missions, and if a single strand of black hair were out of place, Master Drallig would certainly let him know about it.

For once, Cin shrugged. "Can't find anything wrong with you, but why the topknot? The fighting won't start until after you get there, or so Meridian promised."

Joclad shrugged, poking at the part of his hair drawn back into an elaborate, Laeraen-style twist-loop at the back of his head. "It makes me feel better?"

Cin nodded. "Best make it quick, then. Don't let Meridian blow anything else up, or Master Fisto will be disappointed." He checked his chrono. "I think I'll see if Serra and Bene are sparring at all, or just swapping bad jokes like they were last time."

Smart-mouthed Serra, joking around with quiet, passive Bene? Joclad couldn't hold back a chuckle. Cin glared at him. "It's hardly funny. That girl does everything I ask, but if Serra gets her claws into her – that's just what we need, another willful padawan running around…"

"Well, you do have a habit of taking on interesting projects," Joclad said, remembering a time not too long ago when Cin had moaned about him to his fellow Knights: Danva's going to get me killed. "But this willful padawan will have Rhen Var cleaned up in a few days."

Or will I?

The odd feeling came over him once more, and this time Cin appeared to sense it. Joclad felt the older man reaching out to him through the Force, using a familiar, calming touch that had kept him quiet in his first days at the Jedi Temple so many years ago.

"Joclad?" Cin drew himself up and did his best to look imperiously his former padawan's eyes – not the easiest thing to do when the other stood a half-head taller. "What's the matter?"

Joclad tried to shake the feeling of unease off again, identifying its place of origin as somewhere in his stomach. If Cin had actually cooked dinner, he could have attributed the sensation to that. "I feel... strange. Like something is going to happen."

The normally gruff swordsman regarded him with something very much like paternal wisdom - or at least, Joclad's vague conception of it. "Something is going to happen, Joclad. Something always happens. That is the nature of the Force, the nature of life."

"I know, it's just... I can't quite feel it. Or grasp it. I feel something is going to happen, but it's not like anything the Force has ever told me before. I don't think it's foresight… mine's not that good." He hesitated, wondering just how much to feed Cin. "I first sensed it when visiting Depa."

Cin's expression went from wise to knowing within a nanosecond. "Ah. Well, Depa's current state is enough to give anyone odd feelings. Don't look at me like that. The woman is--" He jammed a finger into Joclad's face. "--do not make that face at me, young man, or I'll loose Serra on you."

Joclad sniffed. "Remember what happened last time you tried that?"

"I told you to spar with her a little, not send her to the healers! But she's gotten better since then – wants a rematch." Cin sounded pleased, but then took on a serious tone when he saw the look on the younger man's face. "Joclad, what happened to Depa was unfortunate, and between us… I believe there may be something going on in that broken mind of hers. Something the rest of us can't quite reach."

Joclad nodded. Maybe underneath the black sea that separated Depa from the outside world, there really was something happening.

Something he would never see.

Cin clasped his hands in front of his belt. "You two were friends, and after what happened on Geonosis…" He cleared his throat, and Joclad looked at the floor. Cin pointedly avoided detailing that little escapade as he continued: "…your… close mental proximity may have you slightly more attuned to her than others. You may have picked up something residual from her, even if you can't reach her directly."

If that were the case, it certainly explained Master Windu's bleak moods as of late. Joclad played the idea over in his head, and found that he liked it. It was sane, almost completely rational. He nodded, deciding to agree with Cin for the time being and deal with it later - if the odd feeling remained. Perhaps a trip to a battleground was all he needed to clear his head.

Yes, Joclad, his inner self scoffed, and maybe all Depa needs to wake up is some of Master Yoda's gruel. Actually, they've probably tried that already.

Cin clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't feel anything ominous? Then go to Rhen Var. Save Meridian. We'll be here when you come back."

Joclad nodded and headed for his transport, vowing to stow his insecurities until Rhen Var was dealt with.

"Just think…" Cin grinned as Joclad turned around, "…after this war ends you can go back to Bunduki."

Now he knew Cin was just trying to make him feel better. No one really approved of Joclad's immersion in the fighting art of teräs käsi, but the Council had put up with it after he made it quite clear he had no intention of stopping – and after Depa convinced them it was indeed beneficial to Knight Danva's continued proficiency as a Jedi.

She'd left out the bit about it being necessary to his continued mental stability, a detail he'd never thanked her for.

I wish I'd thanked you now, Depa.

He hid his discontent well. "Bunduki," he said. "I'd like that."

And I will face Phow Ji again. His injuries from what turned out to be his final match had not allowed him to return to competition before the Geonosis mission, and the wide-spread mayhem of the Clone War provided no time for something as trivial as a teräs käsi championship. The prospect of fighting under the purple moon once again cheered him, though, and he bowed to his elder companion. "May the Force be with you, Master Drallig."

"It always is, Danva. It always is."

Once aboard the transport, he sat by the window. Cin was still out there, his arms folded sternly across his chest. He gave his former apprentice a disdainful look when Joclad waved, but remained where he was as the transport powered up and lifted off. Even when the Jedi Temple faded to a pinprick of light in a brilliant city planet, Joclad knew his teacher was still there, watching.

Goodbye, Cin.