Sacrifices

Chapter One:

The Meddling Game

"I may not believe in myself, but I believe in what I'm doing."

Jimmy Page

Canaan didn't sleep—not really—not like everyone else. He would craw into bed, cover up; close his eyes, and be dead to the world. Or so it would seem. It was his mind, not his body, that was cursed to spend eternity wondering. And it was that singular difference that had allowed him to hide his gift for so long.

His first conscious memories were of his parents tucking him safely into bed and waking up somewhere else. Sometimes it was the past; he would walk the wilderness, long before intelligent beings touched the unspoiled land. Sometimes it was the future—a dark and distant possibility. He would watch as the galaxy changed around him; into something glorious or gory depending on the actions of the generations that came before it.

But sometimes, he found himself walking in a world of what could have been. It only took a single action by a single person to change the fate of the galaxy. Multiply that by the trillions upon trillions of choices made by trillions upon trillions of beings over the span of millions of years, and you get an infinite number of realities he could visit.

He had never been able to interfere with any of them…at least at first. One day when he was twelve, a little girl in a dark place could see him, could talk to him. Those few moments of doing what he previously thought impossible had cost him. That week, passed out in the healing wing of the temple, had been the only time he could remember where he had seen the true blackness of sleep; where he hadn't dreamwalked.

If his father hadn't come to check on him right when he had that night, he would have died, bleed out onto his pillows until there was nothing left in his veins but dust and his mind cast permanently into the darkness he had never really seen. His parents had been angry at him, although at the time he wasn't sure if it was for the danger he had put himself in or because he had not told them of his escapades (or a combination of both).

After that, it began to get easier to interfere…but just in that one world; never in any others. Perhaps it became easier because that world was so entwined with the one he called home, or perhaps they became entwined when he started interfering. It's impossible to say. What he had known, however, was that the girl needed his help.

A part of Canaan was ashamed to admit it, but his reasons weren't entirely altruistic. The girl was just as lonely as he was and, as bad as that world was, it was a nice break from his own problems—from his own losses—and those who forgot they weren't the only ones suffering.

But as the years went on, and he begin to see just how small his problems were in comparison his visitations became less and less about just having a friend; they became about actually doing something. With more and more practice interfering, he grew stronger and gained more control over his abilities, until one day when both he and the girl were almost grown, he had the strength to offer her a chance to have everything she had ever wanted—everything she had earned in that life. And when all was said and done—when the girl had gotten her happy ending—he thought his medaling days were over.

He was wrong.

The moment the emotionally battered spirit of Padmé Skywalker showed up at that party, he knew he was wrong. There was no way he could live with himself if he just left the broken woman to fend for herself in the harsh world, and so he was drawn back into the meddling game. Although it had been over half a decade since the girl had gotten her happy ending, his work was, apparently, not over. In fact, it was just beginning…from a certain point of view.

The first thing he did after registering the shift was to try and look for clues as to where (and when) he was. Sometimes this was impossible—if he landed in the middle of an uninhabited, generic forest, he wouldn't have a chance, but this time gave him a decent amount of information.

The tall, orange-red cliff walls sounding him didn't exactly answer the 'where' but the people around him gave the rest of his answers without much difficulty. Dozens of armored men sat around, enjoying a slight lull in whatever battle they were fighting, but all of these men had the same face and that fact in and of itself narrowed the timeline down considerably.

A trogruta girl not far from where he was standing stared at him and in that moment he knew that she could see him.

This was not the first time he had dreamwalked into the middle of a battle, far from it, but this was the first time someone could see him…at least the first time that the girl wasn't around.

"Who are you? And how did you just appear like that?" A young Ahsoka Tano asked.

"Err…" he said, scratching the back of his head, trying to think of an answer that she would believe and that wouldn't take an eternity to explain, "It's a long story."

He mentally smacked himself. Smooth Canaan, real smooth.

She went to say something, but he wasn't really paying attention. Instead he was looking around, studying everything.

He had only ever been seen in that world, so logic would have it that this was that world. But he didn't understand his place here.

Canaan knew he had arrived in one of those rare lulls in the fighting—when the battle wasn't really over, it was just a break as both sides waited for reinforcements or were gathering their wits or something of the like. Clones sat everywhere, not completely at attention, but not safe enough to set up camp just yet.

Something was off. A cold, prickling feeling in the force had ever hair on Canaan's body standing on end, but he wasn't sure why.

And then he saw it.

A clone captain—Canaan racked his brain for a name. Rex, wasn't it?—was standing off to the side, talking into a commlink. Although Canaan could not see who Rex was talking to from that angle, he knew who it was and even could repeat the approximate conversation if he was asked.

The girl had told him about this—order sixty-six—and what it had meant for this world. It was the death warrant for all but the luckiest of Jedi, and even those that survived were condemned to a lifetime of misery and hell. The clones would turn on the Jedi who had led them into battle, who became there brothers, their friends, those who had been beside them in many cases for almost the entirety of the war, and they would shot down to die like dogs . Every. Single. One.

That also meant that right now, untold light years away, this version of Anakin Skywalker was leading a raid on the temple, slaughtering everyone who crossed his path.

Canaan didn't have time to shudder at the thought, at how completely alien the notion was, before Rex shut off the comlink.

He had to think fast. As of yet, Rex was the only one with the order. If he acted fast enough, he could take him out before he passed it along….but he couldn't kill the would-be murderer.

Shit.

Canaan knew he had to think fast. There was no way he could save Ahsoka if it came to a fight—not against the whole battalion at once; not when he had to worry about her getting in the way—and truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure what would happen to him if he died in dreamland; curiosity was not worth the risk.

"Ahsoka, call him over here." He commanded the padawan in a harsh whisper. She studied him for a split second, suspicious. Canaan prayed that the force would intervene; whisper the truth in her ear loud enough for her to hear and heed it. He was here to help.

She gave an infinitesimal nod and motioned to the captain.

Canaan watched as Rex walked over, never betraying the order he had just received. A part of him wondered just how the man could seem so unburdened by what he had been about to do, but he buried that thought. Sometimes people just did what they felt they had to and that was it. Sure, some people were better at it than others, but that didn't matter now.

All that mattered in the brief moment was how was he going to make sure Rex never got the opportunity to pass on the order? And more importantly, how was he going to get Ahsoka of the planet before the new found Empire had the chance to wring the life from her?

"Commander—" the clone began, addressing Ahsoka, but Canaan cut him off.

"Sleep." Perhaps the force suggestion was a little more forceful than necessary, the clones were bred to be docile and obedient, but it was better safe than sorry. There would be no second chances.

Rex crumpled, slumped behind the generous pile of supply crates that hid the trio from the rest of the battalion.

There was a soft yet deafening hum as Ahsoka ignited her double lightsabers to protect her friend. Canaan shouldn't have been surprised, she had always been as loyal as Anakin—the Anakin from his would at least—but that didn't make his job any easier.

He knew he couldn't tell her the truth about what was going on, about Anakin, about the republic, not now. She wouldn't believe it and if she tried to verify his words it would only paint a giant, inescapable target on her back.

It had long been drilled into his head that the Force was a thing for good. A Jedi did not use its power to attack or harm. It was only to be used for knowledge or defense, lest those actions set them down a dark path forever.

That was the code the Jedi had lived by for a thousand generations and, although parts of the code were considered outdated in his world, the distinction between darkness and light was not one of them.

Canaan wasn't a dark person by far; in fact, he was a lot less dark than some of the other wielders of the light side in the temple. But if his visitations to this dark, cruel world had taught him anything, it was that the line between dark and light—good and evil—wasn't near as binary as the Jedi order tended to believe.

He understood why they taught the younglings such a black and white view; the gray area was dangerous. Some people could easily get lost in the no man's land in-between and stumble too deeply into the darkness before they realized their folly.

But that was only the truth for some. Others were a lot more agile when it came to walking that fine thread between enough and too much.

Images flashed behind his eyes of some of the greatest Jedi of the order. Most of them had one thing in common: they lived in the gray areas. Vaapad, Master Windu's signature saber style, required dancing along the edges of the darkside. Anakin Skywalker was notorious for letting his emotions rule him, wither they be positive or negative at the time. And Galen Marek…well, for a man who hadn't seen the darkness like this worlds counterpart of him, there sure as hell wasn't much difference in his fighting style.

Canaan knew bringing them into this was a flimsy excuse, just because they could walk that middle road did not mean that Canaan had the strength to do the same but he was out of options. He had to justify his next move somehow, even if it was only to himself. He could either do what he had to, or he could let Ahsoka die and that was never really an option.

At twenty-seven years old, he should have damn well have been able to beat a padawan, even one as talented as Ahsoka, but he was too desperate. There was no denying Ahsoka was faster than him, more agile, if they were to fight it would not end quickly or quietly enough to escape notice from the entire battalion of clones just across the way.

He never actually forced choked her—not like Vader would—it was more like using his hand to force levitate her by her neck. With a single jerk, she came flying towards him.

Canaan caught her and held her tight, the crook of his arm pressing into her wind pipe. He mentally counted as she squirmed, careful to only hold the grip long enough to incapacitate, rather than kill. He hated himself for doing it; for making himself that much like Vader, but it was the only thing he could think to do.

As Ahsoka's unconscious body slumped down the crates and landed beside Rex, a choir of voices caught Canaan's attention. For all his efforts, he had not been as inconspicuous as he had hoped.

He took a deep breath, to calm his frustrations. This was not going to be pretty.

Canaan reached for his lightsaber, only to find his belt empty. He groaned. Once he began to come to the dark world—once people begin to see him and he could actually interfere in their lives—he had taken to wearing his lightsaber to bed, after all, it stood to reason that, because he had never shown up naked, he could bring things along with him.

But it had bothered Kali as she slept, and he thought he was done meddling in that world, so he had stopped. Lot of good that did him now. Oh well, a good Jedi makes good with what they have on hand, rather than lamenting over what they were lacking, and there were two lightsabers right there who were probably not going to be used any time soon.

Canaan was strong for a Jedi in general, but he always saw himself as falling short of the mark, especially given the greatness he was constantly sounded by. He was more than proficient in saber skills, but next to Kenobi, he always looked like a padawan. Galen could dance circles around him when it came to using the force, and piloting…well that was hopeless. Canaan could start a ship and maybe get it into hyperspace, but that was about it; he was nothing but podoo in a fighter fight.

Now he was going to have to face hundreds of opponents at once and he could not afford to lose this battle. A part of him was daunted at the task before him, but he did not have time to show it.

A gentle chuckle echoed in the back of his mind. Nothing is impossible unless you say it is. His mother was right, as she usually was. Telling himself that it was impossible only hindered him.

The first step to doing the impossible was to think outside of the obvious. They had numbers but he had an ally no clone could have: the force.

He for the first time since appearing in this world, he reached out and used that ally to get a feel for the area. It was a rocky and almost uninhabited world—in all honesty, he had no idea why they were there in the first place—but he could use that. If he didn't have to worry about civilian casualties, then he didn't have to hold back.

With an outstretched hand, he reached out and tugged at the edges of an outcropping the clones had been using as a makeshift base. Ten tons of rock crumbled down on their heads, taking out a fair few of them.

The rest immediately went to dig their brothers out of the rubble and Canaan saw that as his chance. Picking up Ahsoka's limp form in his arms, he force sprinted to the ship.

He had almost made it when a single voice told him he had been spotted.

"Hey!" A trooper yelled, drawing the attention of the survivors to the unknown Jedi as he fired at the ship. That single act sent Canaan's mind spinning into a borderline panic. Rex hadn't been the only one to get the order which meant that all his efforts to incapacitate him had been for naught.

Canaan Force pushed the trooper back, and hightailed it up the ramp. He dropped Ahsoka at the top, having no time to strap her down, before going into the cockpit, flipping switches as he walked.

He knew he sucked at piloting; it was just a fact of his life. Almost everyone he knew would fight over that privilege when there was more than one of them in a ship, but not him. He had never really been able to learn, not even when Master Skywalker tried to teach him.

Not for the first time, however, he was beginning to wish that wasn't the case. Now all he could do was trust in the Force and hope Ahsoka woke up in time to land this thing.

Ahsoka knew something was off the moment she woke up. The last thing she remembered was the strange Jedi appearing out of nowhere and attacking her. And yet the more she thought about that, the less it didn't add up.

There was something about him that reminded her a lot of the odd family of Force users she had met while on Mortis; he had appeared out of nothing like smoke passing through a fan. One of first things she had noticed about him was that he never seemed completely solid. Even when he had his arm pressed against her windpipe, it had felt like, had she just been able to press hard enough, she would have gone right through him.

Perhaps, though, that was just a product of a severally oxygen deprived brain.

Both the Force and logic were telling her that his violence had not been malevolent. After all, if he had truly wanted to hurt her, then why had she woken up unbound in the cabin of the Twilight? He hadn't even taken her lightsabers.

But that didn't mean she trusted him.

He sat there, sprawled across the pilots chair, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Maybe he was asleep or in some odd form of meditation. Either way, she didn't care. She wanted answers and she couldn't give him the opportunity to prove her wrong.

She ignited her lightsaber and held its burning point a mere centimeter from his throat. The man didn't so much as flinch as he opened his eyes and gave her a crooked little simile that more than a little reminiscent of the way Skyguy looked when facing an opponent he knew he would win against.

"I was wondering when you would get up. You want to take over?" he said motioning to the control panel, "I'm sure you're a lot better at this than I am."

"Who are you?" She asked, confused by his calm manner. Not many people would find themselves completely unperturbed with a searing pillar of plasma hovering that close to such a critical area of their bodies.

He cocked his head to the side and then gave it a little shake as he deftly moved around her outstretched blade to give her the pilot's chair.

"Sorry about that. I keep forgetting you don't know me. My name is Canaan, and I just rescued you. "He gave a little bow as the corners of his lips tugged upwards like the words were some sort of privet joke, but she paid that no attention.

"Rescued me? From what?" She asked, dropping her lightsaber slightly, but not disengaging it.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His face looked as if he had aged a hundred years with that one question.

"Ask Obi-wan about order Sixty-six when you get a chance. That's where we're headed."

The console at his fingertips started beeping, indicating that the ship was coming out of hyperspace. Almost instantly, a voice over the intercom was demanding their identification codes.

Canaan made no effort towards the button, instead he just put his hands behind his head and stared at her expectantly.

"We're heading into Polis Massa Mining facility—particularly the medical bay. Give them your name and ask for Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Ahsoka still didn't trust him, but she saw no other option.

There was a few nerve racking seconds of silence before the operator gave her permission to land.

"As I told the senator, I'll try and help as much as I can, but I can't make any promises." He said, his voice taking on an odd pitch as if he were speaking from the other side of a long tunnel despite being mere meters form her. "I'm sorry I can't answer any of your questions, but someone is trying to wake me and it's never good if I stay too long."

She turned to ask him what he was talking about but he was gone, disappeared as if he had never truly been there, leaving her to face the truth on her own.

Hey guys, just to let you know, I have a little index of characters up on my profile since a couple people mentioned being a little swamped with the name dropping last chapter. I understand how confusing it can be but all of them will be introduced with context when it's appropriate. Until then, they're not all that important.

As for the EU, I will be mentioning things that happened in the first half of the Clone Wars animated series (I still haven't caught up on season 5) and perhaps a couple other sources, and there will be cameos from some background characters. You don't have to have seen them all though. Ahsoka and Rex will be a part of the story, so if you don't know them, you may wish to take a peak at their wookiepedia pages...and while you're there you may want to skim over the Starkiller page as well.