Author's note: This chapter takes place during TCW finale, "Victory and Death," before Ahsoka and Rex fake their deaths and leave the crash site. P.S. I will start leaving a section at the end of each new chapter, so I can reply to reviews :) *If things go as planned, I hope to make this its own separate series.*

Ahsoka curled up in the folds of her cloak, the last remnants of sleep slipping from her grasp. There would be no more rest tonight.

She closed her eyes, and darkness blotted out the starless night sky enveloping the moon. She could almost imagine it was all one long, surreal dream. Ahsoka tried to retreat into the Force, center herself in the vibrant energy pulsing around her. But all she found was a blank, hollow void glaring back at her. No light, no shelter. Only death and confusion and an evil rotting the fabric of the universe at its core. And vague traces of the Jedi, where she used to sense the distinctly familiar presence of her friends. Master Yoda, Plo, Obi-wan.

Anakin.

Now the Force felt empty, distorted. The galaxy, the Republic, the life she thought she knew—all uprooted and dismantled in the course of a day. The realization seeped into her mind like a poison. It was suffocating, even in sleep. Because she knew that with sleep came dreams; and with dreams, terrors sometimes worse than reality.

Ahsoka opened her eyes and propped herself up, her muscles stiff from lying on the packed earth. She breathed in the tainted smell of smoke and earth, and blinked against the waning flames of the small fire. At the base of the y-wing, just past the reach of the fire's glow, Rex's spot was empty. The bedroll lay untouched.

Pulling herself to her feet, Ahsoka steadied her balance against the side of the fighter. In the distance, she could make out the jagged outline of the crashed venator etched across the sky. Below it, steeped in the shadows of the flickering wreckage, a makeshift graveyard stretched across the clearing. Marred helmets stood in silent commemoration of the men who lay in shallow graves under them.

After two days and nights of non-stop searching, she and Rex had recovered as many of their men as they could find. It had felt like an eternity at the time. Now, looking back, it seemed only a blur—only the sting of smoke, and distant memories, and death—one gut-wrenching burial after the other. Ahsoka wished she could unsee it all. She hoped the images would fade over time; but something told her she would remember them just as vividly years from now as she did tonight.

As much as these past couple of days had affected Ahsoka, she could not begin to imagine the toll they had taken on Rex. He had said barely a word the entire process.

Ahsoka peered into the night, in search of her friend. She sensed his distress as it pricked at her own conscience. Ever since their connection in the medbay, Ahsoka had become more attuned to his emotions—could feel them with nearly as much clarity as her own. She detected his life force as a lone point of energy on the otherwise lifeless moon.

But even without the aid of her heightened senses, Ahsoka knew where to find him.

Drawing the hood of her cloak over her head, Ahsoka picked her way across the ruins under the looming silhouette of the Republic cruiser. The ground dipped and leveled out as she neared the gravesite. It was not until she reached the edge of the clearing that she saw Rex's dark form huddled at the foot of a grave.

"Rex…?"

She stepped closer. Either Rex did not hear her approach or simply ignored it, because he did not look up. She ought to step to his side, say something, anything. But her feet refused to carry her any farther.

Ahsoka lifted her gaze to the helmet propped up at the head of the grave. Her heart turned to stone as she recognized the familiar Republic emblem painted in deep blue across the front.

Jesse.

She remembered the incomprehensible pain on Rex's face as he cradled his lifeless brother. They had found him soon after the crash. There was some comfort, at least, in knowing he hadn't suffered. Because some of the bodies...

"Hey, kid."

Ahsoka hardly recognized the weak, rasping voice of her friend. He did not look up. Finally Ahsoka eased forward and sank to the ground beside Rex. Guilt gnawed at her as she met his blank expression. It was grim, thoughtful. Some might even mistake it as stoic. But Ahsoka knew better. She felt a dark tremor radiate from him and ripple through the Force.

Ahsoka placed her palms flat on the upturned earth. It drew her in, making her aware of the smallest tremors of life, the cold stillness of death intertwined in the atmosphere around them. The absence of so many lives that had been snuffed out before their times should have come. When Ahsoka looked up, Rex was sitting with his arms resting across his knees, his head dropped in complete exhaustion.

Ahsoka shifted until she was positioned between Rex and the burial grounds. He said nothing, his gaze lingered over the graves of his brothers. And though she could not completely see his face through the shadows, she felt his pain as a knot in her own stomach.

"Why aren't we over there too, Ahsoka?"

It was a brutal question, yet one she had asked herself many times. How could they bury each soldier in their company, practically stare death in the face, and not wonder?

She sighed, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I don't know."

"I should be there beside them. I should be dead," Rex mused. "Not my men."

His angst was infectious. Ahsoka found it difficult not to visualize his words, but they were impossible to block out. What if they hadn't made it out alive? Or even worse, what if she had made it out without Rex? Would his helmet now stand propped up at the center of the gravesite, his among the countless bodies buried today? Anakin's words whispered in the back of her mind: Stay grounded in the here-and-now. Dwelling on what might have happened could prove detrimental.

Rex ran his fingers across the bandage on his head, where the inhibitor had been not so long ago.

"I let them down. All of them, even Fives. If only I had listened…"

"Rex—" She tried to interject, diverting his thoughts from the dark path they were following. But he didn't seem to hear. Rex clenched his fists to suppress the shaking that coursed through him like an electrical current.

"I almost wish…"

"Rex, stop."

Ahsoka reached out, attempting to steady him in reality. Before she could, Rex frantically pushed her hand away and recoiled further into the shadows.

"No," he said, on the verge of pleading. "I don't want to hurt you. I didn't..."

Ahsoka sat back on her heels, giving him his space. Her heart sank as she realized the thing he was most afraid of was himself. What he had tried to do while under the inhibitor's control.

What he now knew he was capable of.

"You've never hurt me, Rex." Ahsoka tried to sound reassuring, but her words had little effect. A dark scowl crossed his face. It hid defeat—betrayal by the Republic he had poured his heart into. He, and all the other clones, had been warped by the hand of Sidious. Then, after serving their one purpose, they were discarded like obsolete scrap.

For a flicker of a moment, Rex's eyes met hers.

"I almost killed you." His voice strained. Shame dripped from every word. "What if I snapped again? And if you weren't able to stop me…"

"That won't happen. It's over."

Rex threw her a skeptical glance.

"Is it?"

Ahsoka didn't respond. Of course she knew the answer was no. She wasn't sure what tomorrow would hold. She didn't want to know. Instead of answering, Ahsoka worked her fingers into his clenched fist. She felt the tension release slightly as she cupped both of his hands in her own. This time, he did not pull away.

"You saved me. Remember?"

Ahsoka stared up into his guilt-ridden face. She searched his expression, noting the look of eclipsed hope in his blood-shot eyes. The crippling fear of turning again, losing the only thing he had left in the galaxy. The scars of witnessing so much carnage and being unable to stop it.

Sometimes it was easy to forget he was younger. Only in his most vulnerable moments did she catch glimpses of it. In war, one had to learn to manage emotions, compartmentalize them so they only showed when necessary. But, as they stood above the hangar two days ago, she was reminded once again of the humanity of the clones. For them, there was no such thing as a normal life. It was shortened, stripped in so many ways. Battle after battle, they fought and died in a conflict that should not be their own. In three years of war, they had experienced more than most people did in a lifetime.

It made her wonder, how many times had her own men hidden their pain behind the visor of a helmet, because no one knew or even cared? How often had Rex retreated into himself, and she had not taken the time to notice?

For a moment, Ahsoka feared he was going to release her hand and shrug off her efforts. But he did not let go. If anything, he held on tighter.

Rex drew in a shallow breath. "Ahsoka. I hope you know I never meant to… I would never mean to hurt you…"

He struggled to maintain an even tone, and his words broke off. He mumbled a curse in Mando'a, frustrated at his inability to put jumbled thoughts to words. Ahsoka knew him to occasionally slip into Mando'a, in the heat of a moment. Now the anger and regret directed toward himself was enough to drive one to hysteria. Ahsoka noticed the gleam in his eyes as the words I'm sorry slipped from his lips.

"It isn't your fault, Rex. I'm alive, because of you."

He didn't look so sure.

"Because of Fives," he corrected softly.

A heartbeat of silence passed between them. For the first time, she noticed traces of dried blood streaked across his face—blood that was not his own. She was reminded of Jesse, of her company, of the family they had both loved and lost. They had been through so much already; and she would not lose him now.

Ahsoka eased closer and secured her arms around Rex's neck, each movement intentionally slow and gentle so as not to startle him again. Rex gave her a wary look. She knew what he was thinking: if he relapsed, how easy would it be to harm her now that she was so close?

Ahsoka nestled her head against his collar, trying to alleviate the fear that was holding him back. Then she whispered, in hushed words that lingered in the still night air:

"Ni cuy' olar."

Rex bent fractionally closer, recognizing the fragments of Mando'a he had taught her long ago.

I am here.

She repeated it again, offering him the only reassurance that was in her power to give. Finally, she felt Rex's arms cross over her back as he reluctantly returned the embrace. She shivered against his feverish skin, in a hug that was long overdue. He held on with fierce desperation, as if to a lifeline.

Ahsoka let her guard down as she sensed her friend's pain translate into her own. His entire body quaked within her hold, as he tried to masquerade the emotions storming beneath the surface. All the thoughts he needed to voice, all the grief and pain tethered back.

"Don't leave. Please."

His words rent Ahsoka's heart in two. She understood the implication:

Don't leave again.

"I won't leave you, Rex. Not this time."

It was strangely reminiscent of what she had wanted to tell Anakin, but hadn't gotten the chance. Now she wondered if she ever would again.

Ahsoka felt her throat tighten at the thought of her old master. Had he sensed the betrayal before order 66 was issued? Would he have been able to escape in the heat of battle? Or did the clones gun him down before he had the chance to put up a defense? Ahsoka pushed down the thought, certain that it would resurface again. She could only hold out hope that Anakin was still alive, somehow.

Now all she and Rex had was each other: a haunted soldier and a fallen Jedi, alone in a galaxy that wanted them dead.

Ahsoka hugged him a little tighter. In the midst of his overwhelming fear and grief, she sensed something else. Something he was holding back.

"Rex," she whispered. "Tell me."

He hesitated. Then he loosened his hold and his arms fell free. Ahsoka pulled back to meet his gaze.

"When we were searching for survivors, I was almost…hoping there wouldn't be any. For someone to live through that, and suffer…" His brow furrowed in thought, and he stared down at his gloved hands. "I mean, how could you take care of someone who hates you, wants you dead? And without the right supplies, would we just...wait for them to die?" Ahsoka watched as he blinked back tears. It was as if he could actually hear the pained cries of dying men, and could do nothing to help.

"I don't know what we could have done. But, Rex"—She settled her forearms over his, her fingers wrapping around the plastoid armor of his wrists.— "I do know we did everything in our power to save them. All we could have done."

Rex contemplated her words. The anger and frustration seemed to melt away, leaving in its place only broken thoughts and pure exhaustion. He gave her arms a reassuring squeeze. Then he drew in a shaky breath and sighed.

"You shouldn't have to be the one to pull me back together, kid."

"You know I'm older than you, right?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, Ahsoka wished she could take them back. All she wanted was to take his mind off the situation, if even for a moment. Now she realized just how foolish and ill-timed it had sounded.

Rex looked up slowly. The recycled joke must have worked after all, because a weak yet genuine smile played across his face.

"So you like to remind me."

Ahsoka noticed a resolute—almost hopeful—glint in his eyes, that hadn't been there before. He regarded her a moment.

"What is it?"

"It's just, despite everything..." Rex shook his head. "You're what a Jedi is supposed to be."

No, she wanted to tell him. A Jedi would have warned the Council of what Maul said. A Jedi would have called Anakin, before it was too late.

She swallowed hard, avoiding Rex's gaze. She didn't have the heart to correct his misconception of her. But in the end, he deserved honesty.

"Rex, when I left the Order, it wasn't out of bravery. I don't know what it was, exactly. I just...didn't know what else to do at the time." Rex's expression was difficult to read. She wondered if he would think any less of her after this. "But now, looking back, I wonder, was it out of cowardice that I walked away? Was it pride that stopped me every time I considered going back?" She shook her head, tears blurring the corners of her vision. "Despite what happened, the Jedi are still my family. And I left them, and you, and all my men when they needed me the most. Especially Anakin. I just...don't want you to think I'm something that I'm not."

Rex was silent, his pensive eyes fixed on her. Then he placed a firm hand on her shoulder, re-gaining her attention. His voice resumed its solemn tone, a hint of gentleness in his words.

"I never thought you were perfect. I don't expect that of anyone. But your heart's in the right place, kid, and that's more than can be said for most people in this galaxy." He gave a slight smile. "You learned from the best of the Jedi, after all."

Ahsoka was too overwhelmed by her own swirling thoughts to give a suitable reply.

Rex rose to his feet, offering Ahsoka help up.

"Better get some sleep."

"Yeah," she agreed half-heartedly. They stood together for one long, bitter moment, looking out over their family's final resting place. Ahsoka resolved to remember each of the soldiers for the special times they had shared, not the betrayal that marked the end.

"And tomorrow?" she said under her breath.

"Tomorrow we start over."

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