The shrill beep of a heart monitor echoed off the walls, on and on, ear-splittingly loud, and haar'chak, Rex wanted to absolutely pulverize that stupid thing. He settled with folding his arms instead, eyes wide and palms clammy as he stood in between Senator Organa and Kix.

Skywalker's body slumped lifelessly on the operation table, emitting a cold that Rex swore he could feel from where he stood, and he forcefully set his jaw, waiting for the fresh wave of adrenaline to pass. Ahsoka's hands twitched above Skywalker, brows drawn together in concentration as she spoke under her breath.

Rex didn't even know what Ahsoka was doing. He certainly wasn't a Jedi. He had seen some use the Force during the war, of course—but none of the clones really knew how it worked.

He glanced over at Kix, who shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking disquieted and out of place. When he met Rex's gaze, he leaned in close, lowering his voice so that they wouldn't be overheard.

"Rex, can we speak outside?"

Rex gave a hesitant look over at the operation table before nodding. The two quietly slipped out of the room, still able to hear the monitor even after the door sealed shut. Kix turned to him.

"We—we shouldn't give her false hope," he whispered, a troubled expression clouding his features as he threw a glance over to Ahsoka. "If she can't—"

"Don't talk like that," he replied sharply.

There was a beat of silence between them. Then a sigh.

"Rex, you have to prepare yourself for the worst," Kix's voice remained barely above a whisper. "I've never seen someone come back from the dead, and Lewis and I have done all that we know to do."

Rex shook his head, pointedly ignoring the anxiety that weighed on his shoulders and eying Tano through the glass. They can't give up hope. Not yet. Not after she had gotten so far with him.

"It would take a miracle to bring him back," his brother said after a moment. "And even if you could, there's no telling what it would do to his brain and vital organs. The damage could be severe."

"Then I suppose you'll have your work cut out for you," Rex pursed his lips stubbornly.

"That's not how this works," Kix said. "You need to be able to face the reality of the situation with a level head."

When Rex's eyes dimmed at his words, he sighed.

"Look, you know I don't want to be the bad guy here," Kix said. "I want him to live just as much as you do. The General meant a lot to all of us. But I can't just—ignore what I see. Surely you can understand that."

"Of course I do," Rex crossed his arms, "but if she says she can bring him back, I have faith in her."

"Do you hear yourself?" Kix put a hand on his armored shoulder, brows knit together in concern. "We're talking about death, Rex. I've tried to be sensitive, but you don't deserve to be lied to. This—" he paused to look over at the operation room—"It won't end well."

"Lied to?" Rex charged, sharply. "You think Tano is lying?"

Kix sighed, eyes softening despite the hostility they were met with. "No, Rex. I think you're lying to yourself."

Rex was very tempted to bite back in defense, but instead, he forced himself to take a breath. To calm down and think.

Maybe Kix was right. Maybe he was acting overly optimistic. Rex opened his mouth to offer an apology, but the words caught in his throat at the sudden, faint sound of rhythmic beeping on the other side of the wall.

Kix gave him a weird look. "Are you alr—"

Rex shook his head, shushing him. "Wait, wait, just listen."

The medic paused for a moment, straining his ears to hear whatever Rex was referring to—and when he finally did, his eyes widened. They both hesitantly turned their heads to the glass.

The first thing Rex's eyes caught sight of was Ahsoka, looking overwhelmed, exhausted, but profoundly relieved. The next thing he saw was the nearly indistinct rise and fall of Skywalker's chest.

Kix mumbled something under his breath, nearly slamming the keypad to open the door.

"Lewis, check his vitals," he instructed, voice tense and uncertain, and Rex followed hotly on his heels. He resumed his place next to Senator Organa, watching the medical droid closely as it followed Kix's orders.

When Ahsoka made her way back to their side of the room, her hands still trembling and her steps slightly off-balanced, he offered an arm for her to lean on.

"His heart rate is slightly elevated but otherwise healthy, sir," Lewis said monotonously. "He is still in an unconscious state from the medication."

Kix muttered to himself as he checked the monitor, then Skywalker, then the monitor again.

"What's the report, doctor?" Senator Organa asked, breaking the silence that hovered heavily in the air around them.

"He's... alive," he breathed, trailing off as he read off of a datapad, brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief. He cleared his throat, putting the device face down onto the counter. "We will have to run some tests before we're able to continue the operation. His heart stopped for several minutes."

"Of course," the senator replied. "Please take any additional measures necessary. If you need anything, I will contact my suppliers."

"Will do, sir."

»»««

Darkness. Then light.

Skywalker's face scrunched as he slowly regained consciousness, a dim source of light forming in front of his closed eyelids. Despite feeling deeply exhausted, he shifted, fighting against his fatigue to pry his eyes open. White smeared across his vision, the room spinning and blurred beyond comprehension.

He gritted his teeth, willing his eyes to focus, and slowly but surely, the hazy space sharpened.

"Good morning, sunshine," the sudden voice from his left made him jolt, involuntarily pushing himself into the mattress.

Kriff, not again. Not again. Not again—

"Whoa, whoa, hey, relax."

With a firm shake of his head, he tried to clear his addled thoughts, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. Think, think, think. Scan your surroundings. He looked over at the girl beside him. She was still slightly blurred, but he recognized her well enough. Brown hair, white clothes. Bail's kid.

Skywalker let out a small, shaky breath. "Where am I?" he rasped. "What day is it? Where—"

She sternly pushed his shoulders down when he tried to get up. "Calm down. You're in the recovery ward." He reeled in a couple of forced, pained breaths as the girl walked to the fountain and poured a cup of water. Once she returned, she held it out to him. "Here, drink this. It'll help."

He shook his head. "How long have I been out?"

"Drink first," she insisted.

"I don't want to. Now answer me."

She blinked in offense. "No."

He gave a side eye. "What did you just say?"

"No," she repeated. "I don't have to tell you anything. Not until you drink this."

Skywalker stared her down with narrowed eyes before begrudgingly deciding he was too tired to argue. "Fine," he hissed, "give it to me."

A satisfied expression crossed her features as she extended the mug to him again. He hesitantly drank under her keen eye, the refreshing liquid soothing his dry throat. She took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

"I'm Leia, by the way."

"That's nice," he grumbled. "All right, kid, I've done my part. Your turn."

"It's been about eight rotations since the surgery," she said.

He blinked. "Eight?"

Leia nodded, and his grip unintentionally tightened, the coldness of the cup prickling his palms—

He stilled at the feeling, memories of why he was in the recovery ward flooding his mind in an instant.

The surgery.

For the first time since he woke up, he took a good look at himself. Hands. He had hands. Hands that he could feel.

He clenched and relaxed his fist, rolling his new fingers into his palms and wiggling them around. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat, mind skipping at the foreign sensation. He could still feel the cool durasteel attached to what remained of his real limbs, but on the surface, he wasn't able to tell a difference between the two.

"They're pretty neat, aren't they?" Leia smiled. "Those prosthetics come from the very best supplier we have."

"I'll be sure to compensate you for your resources," he murmured.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," the teen waved him off. "I heard my father talking about it earlier. They're our gift to you."

Skywalker hummed but otherwise stayed silent, tired eyes still examining his new arms with a growing fascination.

"I'll go get Kix to come and check you out," she said as she stood, making her way to the blast door. It opened with a shing, and she turned to him. "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere."

»»««

"He's on Tatooine."

Ahsoka followed Bail down the long corridor, arms crossed over her chest. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "In the Jundland Wastes," he said. "Be mindful, though. I heard there was a settlement of Raiders a few klicks away from his hut."

She stopped walking for a moment, holding a hand out for him to do the same. "Thank you, Bail. For everything."

"It's the least I can do to repay you for all that you've done for the Rebellion," he replied. "Remember, this information is strictly confidential. We are among the only ones that know his location."

She nodded. "Of course. You don't have to worry."

They began walking again, their light footsteps echoing off the walls—but before she could say anything more, a loud crash rang through the corridor. They both startled, whipping their heads to the side to look for the source. Ahsoka hesitantly glanced over at Bail.

"What was that?"

The hall was still empty, just as it was when she checked earlier. The ringing echoed for a few more seconds before fading away, leaving nothing but a dull headache in its place.

"I'm not sure." Bail narrowed his eyes. "It sounds like it came from the supply closet."

She gave a nod and unhooked the lightsabers from her belt, creeping toward the room with her thumbs hovering above the activation switches. Once she stood outside, she leaned against the trim, straining to listen to the faint movements behind the blast door.

"Oh, shut me down. You truly are a bungler at their finest, you overweight glob of grease," a muffled voice scolded from inside, and Ahsoka let out a breath. There were a few faint beeps in response, then a gasp. "Don't use that tone of voice with me! You're the one that suggested we come here. I should report you to Senator Organa for this..."

She put her lightsabers away and pointed to the door when Bail appeared beside her. "Five credits if he's stuck again."

"Deal."

"...Why, you'll be deactivated for sure," C3PO continued, receiving, to his apparent dismay, another few sharp chirps. He grumbled, "He does not have a soft spot for you! Oh, of all the astromechs in the galaxy I could work beside, I cannot believe I have to—"

The blast door shot open, inadvertently revealing the culprits behind the crash. Ahsoka's eyes landed on C-3PO, who was caught between a few crates and a shelf, a box of tools and wires sprawled haphazardly across the floor around him.

"What happened here?" Bail asked tiredly.

"Senator Organa!" The droid greeted and tried to straighten his posture, a movement that only resulted in him sinking further into the slot. He looked at R2 pointedly. "This is his fault, sir. We were on our way to the kitchen to oversee food preparations when he decided that we needed to take a detour."

R2 chirped, and he scoffed.

"That is so how it happened. Honestly, sir, I have never operated beside such a dimwitted, short-circuited droid in all of my years," C-3PO rambled. R2 beeped something in response, drawing yet another appalled noise from the droid. "Goodness me! Would it scrap you to show some courtesy every once in a while?"

Ahsoka tipped her head to the side. "Pay up."

Bail muttered something under his breath as he dug into his pocket, pulling out a few tokens and handing them to her. She turned to the droid after putting them away. "Let's get you out of here, 3PO."

"Oh, Ahsoka Tano!" he gasped. "It is so good to see you."

She gave a smile, outstretching her arm for him to grab onto. After a few tugs, he stood upright again. "Thank you ever so much, Miss Tano."

R2 beeped a few times, asking a question that Ahsoka interpreted with little difficulty.

"Oh, I'm here on business," she threw a glance over to Bail, cringing slightly. "Of sorts."

"Well, your presence is always welcome here," 3PO assured. "Come, R2. The kitchen staff still require our supervision."

They really didn't need any help in the kitchen. Bail only assigned them to that job to get them out of his hair for a few hours each day. She sighed, crossing her arms with an amused smile.

A voice suddenly called from the hallway, "Guys?"

Ahsoka heard the telltale tap, tap, tap of Leia's grey flats a few seconds before she appeared in the doorway. "Oh, good, you're both here. Listen, you need to—" the girl paused when she caught sight of the mess. "What happened?"

"The usual." Bail threw a narrowed glance over to the droids. "What can I help you with?"

"He's awake."

»»««

"Eight hours in operation, three rotations inside a bacta tank, and five rotations asleep in the recovery ward."

Kix stood in front of Skywalker's bed with a datapad resting in his hands. He arrived with Lewis a few minutes before everyone else, checking his vitals and scolding him as he fixed the IV that he had fiddled with.

Skywalker nodded. "And the suit?"

"Should be nearing the Goazon Badlands, sir," the medic said. "Out of sight, out of mind."

Rex sat in the chair Leia once occupied. "How do you feel?"

"Like a gunship landed on me," he grumbled.

At his words, Ahsoka cast a glance over to Kix.

"Don't worry, sir. You'll be back to normal in no time," he said, rummaging through a cabinet to grab a bottle with clear liquid inside. He set it on the small table beside his bed. "Remember to apply bacta to your burns three times a day until they fully heal. We will help apply it until you get out of Alderaan, but it's important to the recovery process that you stay on top of it."

Skywalker narrowed his eyes. "I've done bacta treatments for years. Shouldn't they be gone by now?"

Kix ceased his movements, turning to him with furrowed brows. "That—doesn't make sense. Bacta treatments are the most reliable ways to heal burns," he said. "Are you sure it was bacta, sir? Who supplied it?"

He hesitated before answering, "The Emperor."

Skywalker bit his tongue to keep himself from reacting to the look Ahsoka exchanged with Rex at his words.

"I see," Kix drew before clicking his tongue. "Well, I suppose it could have been a placebo of sorts. Bacta works quickly—you should have been able to tell a difference within the first couple of treatments."

That wasn't what the Emperor said.

Skywalker stayed silent, the thought hanging over his shoulders heavily. If the Emperor was the one supplying the tanks, he could have filled them with anything. Another thought sprung forth, a pang of betrayal hitting him in the stomach along with it.

What else has he lied about?

Skywalker glanced over to Ahsoka.

He lied about her.

Ahsoka crossed the room to sit on the foot of the bed, wearing a look that assured him that she could sense his distress in the Force. She opened her mouth to speak but paused when she looked at his face, tilting her head to the side.

He shifted uncomfortably under her stare. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just—" she paused. "Your eyes. They're blue."

Skywalker felt his chest clench, her words echoing in his mind. Your eyes. They're blue. Your eyes. They're blue. Your eyes. They're blue. Somewhere between the time of their battle and now, the golden layer that tainted his vision must have faded.

Skywalker hadn't seen his real eyes in a very long time.

"How much longer does he need to stay here, Kix?" Ahsoka asked.

"I would like to keep him in the ward for a few more rotations. Just to make sure everything's all right. Then he'll need some time in physical therapy to get used to the new prosthetics."

She gave a nod before turning her eyes back to him. "Get well soon, Skyguy. We have some stops to make once you get better."

He made a noise of dissatisfaction. "Can't wait."

»»««

"Looks like you were right, Rex," Kix admitted, walking to the dining table in his quarters with two cups in his hands. He placed one in front of his chair and the other in front of Rex. "I'm sorry for doubting you about Skywalker."

He waved him off. "Eh, you don't have to apologize. Plenty of times for me to be wrong in the future."

"I take it you're leaving with them once he recovers?" Kix kicked a chair out and sat opposite of him.

"Where Tano goes, I like to follow," Rex replied. "Keeps some life in my bones."

There was a beat of silence as he took a drink, his throat burning from the harsh liquid in his cup.

"You know," he started, "there's always an extra seat in the ship if you want to tag along."

Kix's eyes darted over to him, brows shooting up in surprise. He pursed his lips into a line as he thought over his next words, swashing the liquid in his cup around in a small loop.

"Ah, you know I would," he said, "but my place is here with the Organa's. At least for right now."

"Don't worry, I get it," Rex assured. "Family is more than blood. Tano is mine, they're yours. I'd never hold that against you."

His brother gave an appreciative smile. "If you ever need a hand, though, you'll know where to find me," he said, his lighthearted expression growing serious with his next words. "Just—don't be a stranger. Check in every once in a while, will you?"

Rex took another swig of his drink, an idea coming to mind as he thought over Kix's request. "Well, if you want to keep in touch, I have an old comlink in my ship that I could loan to you."

That seemed to pique Kix's interest. He set his drink onto the table with a soft clank. "Really?"

He nodded. "I'll tune it into the frequency Wolffe, Gregor, and I use. I'm sure they'll be glad to hear from you."

Kix gave a small smile as he stood to put his now empty mug into the sink, staying silent until he returned to his seat.

"Try and be careful out there, Rex," he said quietly. "We've lost so many brothers. Too many. I don't want to lose you again."

"You don't have to worry about that, vod," Rex reached across the small table to clap him over the shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm holding you to that," his brother warned.

"I'm counting on it."