Rex sleeps better than he has in a long time, although the nightmares are still present. He actually feels somewhat rested when the Zygerrians come through waking them up, although as he moves to sit up his muscles tighten and he stops, grimacing and hissing out a breath. Oh kriff. Between the electrocution and the hard labor everything burns . When Ahsoka gets up, he can feel the same kind of pain from her and sends her a commiserating look. As they file towards the door, Rex does his best to stretch, trying to work some of the stiffness and tightness out so he doesn't injure himself too much as he works.
Togrutan colonists flinch away from him, eye him bitterly or sorrowfully, and the heaviness of their situation settles on his shoulders again. He wants to tell the colonists not to worry. He and Ahsoka will not cause them any more pain today.
He takes his water bottle and drinks it as slowly as he can, although his mouth is dry and parched. This is all he will get for the next several hours unless he begins to suffer too much from dehydration - he's noticed that's one thing the Zygerrians will do, give their slaves more water. A dehydrated slave can't work.
He waits with Ahsoka for the lift to take their group of colonists, and he keeps a subtle eye on the guards out of instinct.
Be safe, he thinks to Ahsoka. It's the best he can do.
When their group is finally directed to get on the lift, one of the guards sticks out his spear as Rex passes, tripping him up; he's sore and tired enough that he can't keep his balance and he stumbles, has to catch himself on the side of the lift.
"Watch yourself, slave," and Rex feels Ahsoka is furious . But he thinks it's a reminder of where they are. They were allowed some form of respite last night, but that's over now.
It's crueler this way, he realizes, but he won't regret what little time they had together.
Especially considering what happened . Even thinking about it sends strengthening warmth through his chest, deep in his bones where he doesn't think anyone can reach it.
...
Ahsoka can barely keep herself from snarling at the guards when they trip Rex up, but it's obvious they're expecting that, if the threatening way her guard from yesterday flicks his shock whip is any indication. It's like the Zygerrian wants her to be defiant, to resist, and she thinks maybe he wants another opportunity to educate her on the punishment that awaits Rex if she disobeys.
But the memory of the previous day, of Rex on his knees with an electrostaff shoved into his stomach, suffering because of her actions, is still fresh in her mind; she clings to the fragile edges of her self-control and keeps her eyes down and doesn't say a word, and she tries not to feel like she's abandoning every ideal she's ever lived by.
She and Rex are assigned to work together again today, swinging pickaxes again, and it's almost a relief even though she knows the closeness is only permitted to make it easier for the Zygerrian guards and overseers to keep them in line. It's both kind and cruel at the same time.
She's sore, abused and battered muscles protesting the work, and the various burns and lacerations all over her body are all screaming at differing levels of bloody murder, and she thinks that if it wasn't for Rex's presence she'd be in danger of not making it out of this kriffing hole in the ground. As it stands, though, every time she looks over at Rex she's reminded of the night before, of the words both spoken and unspoken, and there's a bright warmth like a cresting wave, scooping her up and carrying her through the work. She smiles through the pain, because even here, in the closest thing to hell she's ever seen, nothing can take this sheer joy away from her.
Rex loves her.
Ahsoka still can't quite believe it, even though she can feel the soft, protective warmth of his love, a vein running through nearly every surface thought that passes through his mind. The Jedi Code has always warned her of love, described it as something Dark and deadly, but she's felt the Dark-she knows the Dark more intimately than most Jedi ever learn the Light-and this brightly-burning flame inside her soul feels nothing like the Son's all-encompassing ice, like Krell's frigid arctic wind.
How could love be Dark, when her love for Rex is the wellspring of strength she's drawing from just to survive?
...
For all the pain and the hard work and fear, Ahsoka's thoughts are warm and affectionate as they work. It helps more than he'd ever have expected, her love , the gentle focus of it. He can't pay enough attention to her to catch specific thoughts, but he can follow the general drift of her thoughts: she's thinking about him, much as he's thinking about her. That's safer than listening to the sounds around them. The first part of the morning goes by almost quickly, his muscles warming to the work, he and Ahsoka sharing light surface thoughts and a feeling of warmth, like sunlight. It's something of a comfort when things get worse, when the people around them are in pain and the work jars their injuries. The guards have stayed close today, and there is no space for error. Rex can tell they take a great deal of perverse pleasure from threatening both him and Ahsoka, picking at them to work faster, keep their eyes on their jobs, swing the pickaxes differently, for kriff's sake. He's sure they're hoping for an excuse to punish them, but he won't give them one.
Some hours into their work, there's a commotion in the pit, and four guards come to surround him and Ahsoka, whips blazing with electricity. Rex dares to stop his work, turning to face the guards. They don't punish him for that; it seems they've come to take them somewhere.
"Get moving," the guards say without explanation, and Rex drops his pickaxe. Beside him, Ahsoka sets hers down too, meets his eyes briefly. He tries to send strength her way, reassurance.
Even though his heart is pounding, blood rushing in his ears, and he knows this can't be anything good. They've been obeying well today, they've focused on work, ignored the colonists, followed every kriffing instruction, however tiny - what more could they want? He sees some of the colonists watching them, but most ignore them, don't even look up as they go by. They are the ones that look beaten, hollow, like sleepwalkers.
Is that what he and Ahsoka look like? He's not sure, but doesn't think so - he feels like he has a precious secret, a weapon no one else knows about, something safe and only his . He shouldn't feel so invincible because really he's more vulnerable than ever.
They're marched to the center of the pit, which is where the guards seem to spend most of their time when they aren't forcing their workers into submission. From this part of the pit, he can see most of the cavern, and he's sure most of the slaves can see them. The Zygerrian from their first day here, Agruss, the one who'd welcomed them and killed colonists just to prove a point, leans forward on his chair where he sits in the middle of a small squad of guards. These guards hold blasters instead of whips, and their armor is cleaner than that of the Zygerrians who work down here. Personal bodyguards, then.
He can feel Ahsoka's hatred of the Zygerrian, and he understands why. This creature seems to run this whole place, and he smiles slowly as Rex and Ahsoka's guards push them to stand in front of him.
"Well, well, well. How are you liking my facility, little Jedi?" the slavemaster says, his eyes gleaming like they're sharing a private joke. Don't react , Rex thinks, unnecessarily.
He senses Ahsoka doesn't know what's expected of her, and Rex doesn't know either, but the safest option is probably to stay silent.
She does, stares at the ground, and Rex hopes he's the only one who can see that she's trembling.
"When I ask you a question, I want an answer," Agruss says, a hint of a purr in his voice. He sounds like a teacher instructing a very stubborn pupil, a little disappointed in her failure to understand. "Now let me ask again: how are you liking your stay?"
It's cruel and unnecessary and Rex steadies his breathing, tries to pretend the hatred freezing in his chest belongs to someone else, like it's just something he can observe.
Ahsoka's voice shakes when she speaks and Rex feels her fear that she's saying the wrong thing, will get them both in trouble - and her hatred of Agruss for doing this to them. "It's nice, sir." There is no right answer to the question and Rex feels a hateful, bitter laugh suddenly rising in his throat. He forces it down, grits his teeth.
"Is it!" Agruss laughs, truly amused, his smile baring canine teeth. "I'm glad, little Jedi. Although I hear you have been quite a difficult guest." He lounges back in his chair, glances at Rex, and Rex quickly looks down. "I did not expect this clone to be just as strong-willed. Tell me, clone, are all of your kind this obstinate?"
"Most, sir," Rex says. Some more . He thinks Fives wouldn't bend as easily as he has.
"How interesting. Perhaps we will have to look at this further." The slavemaster taps his claws against his chair, then his demeanor turns cold, apathetic. "I admit, I did not think this system of leverage was practical," he says, and Rex realizes he's speaking to his guards now. "Certainly it works, but it requires something of a short leash. But the queen informs me she finds a great deal of success with her Jedi using similar tactics."
Her Jedi . Does that mean General Kenobi? General Skywalker? Both? Rex swallows. He had hoped that after the disaster in the auction arena, the Generals' absence from the slave pit meant they were safe, had escaped and could help them.
Now it sounds like they might truly be on their own.
A great deal of success with her Jedi . This mission was a mistake. The Council never should have sent General Skywalker anywhere near these slavers.
"Well then, Jedi," Agruss sighs, waving a hand. "Get on your knees. And you, clone." Rex swallows. It's just his pride, just his sense of injustice, that wants him to stay standing. So what if it's humiliating, it's not worth anyone else's pain.
...
Her Jedi.
Ahsoka swallows, tries not to let her fear show too much on her face. If Anakin has been forced back into slavery… she can only imagine how he must feel. And it means that they're on their own. They can't just sit back and wait for help to come to them.
They have to take advantage of this opportunity.
Ahsoka, no, Rex says, his worry clear in his mind. We're outnumbered and injured, and they beat us even when we were prepared.
But she's not listening, because she has an idea, and she's sick of kneeling.
Soka, please!
Ahsoka takes a deep breath, reaches out, sinks deep into the Force, pulling it into her body, giving her strength, using it to temporarily block out her pain. The Zygerrians seem to realize something's happening, changing, because she sees them shifting, but it's too late-she pushes outward, throwing the guards away with a wave of Force. In the same instant she Force-pulls one of the electrostaffs to her hands; she twirls it, finds the balance (smashes the electrified end into a Zygerrian's head)-
And stabs the end into Agruss' repulsorlift chair.
The chair short-circuits, the extra electricity burning out the wires, sending shockwaves through Agruss' body as the electricity tries to ground itself, and Ahsoka smiles.
...
Rex knows the minute Ahsoka decides she has to something, and his instincts scream that this is a terrible, terrible plan. (Part of him also says he should just stay on his knees, not move, not help.)
Soka, please! he tries, but there's really no point. Her mind is made up.
And he feels her reaching, feels an answering pull of something powerful and ancient and wild. He finds himself momentarily lost in the feeling of this energy that seems to have an intent, thoughts of its own, and for the first time he understands why the Jedi talk so much about the will of the Force , if this is it. He readies himself to move, to fight, because if she's going to be reckless he's not letting her fight alone.
Ahsoka's attack is a ripping wave of energy that seems to just barely pass over him as she leaps to her feet, flings out a hand and catches the electrostaff that suddenly flies towards her. Rex scrambles upright and rushes to one of the fallen Zygerrians to get himself a weapon (and this one is bodyguard with a blaster , thank the little gods). He lifts the blaster and shoots the first moving Zygerrian he sees. He's hyperaware of the collar around his neck, fully expects it to activate any second, and he knows they can't fight for long if that happens.
Ahsoka slams her new staff into Agruss' chair, and Rex finds himself laughing exultantly as the slaver convulses in his seat. He settles himself behind Ahsoka, shoots the guards she Force-pushed away (no sense in giving them a chance to come to their senses), and takes out any others who get close. This could almost work, he finds himself thinking. They could do this.
But they're in the very center of the pit, and the guards are running towards them now from all directions and however fast Rex shoots, there are always more of them, and they're getting too close.
If the other slaves would try to help them, maybe they'd have a chance, but they aren't moving except to edge further away from the violence. The few that look at them with pity still don't help them, and Rex knows they understand that it's hopeless .
Suddenly Ahsoka grabs his arm, holds out her hand, and her voice is an echo in his head. The blaster . He hands it to her, and she yanks her electrostaff out of Agruss' chair, hands it to him.
And then she waves her hand and Agruss is yanked off his chair and tumbles onto the ground, hard. Ahsoka grabs him by the ear, yanks his head back, presses the blaster to his temple.
"Stop!" she shouts, her voice carrying almost unnaturally. Rex plants his staff against the ground, panting, and now that he's still his injuries are screaming for his attention. "If you come any closer I'll kill him."
This isn't safe, won't protect them for long, and Rex eyes the Zygerrians for the first signs of hostility. The truth is that the second they kill Agruss, they lose their bargaining chip, and they'll probably be overrun and executed. But for now it's a stalemate, and Rex intends to keep it that way. There has to be some way they can make this work in their favor.
Agruss starts laughing. He sounds pained and choked and hoarse, but he's laughing , and Rex tightens his grip around the electrostaff. He'll kill the first Zygerrian that moves, and then after that, he isn't sure. "Come now, Jedi. I know it's against your Code to kill a man in cold blood, unarmed."
Rex wonders if Ahsoka actually would - her thoughts don't make sense to him right now, and he's not totally sure what she's feeling.
A guard moves to take a step forward and Rex launches his staff, watches it connect, and finds he feels nothing, not even satisfaction. This is pointless , the small part of him whispers. They'll punish you both, you most of all.
"I will kill him," Ahsoka growls, and it sounds convincing. Not that it will do them any good. Rex forces down the urge to tell Ahsoka to give up and surrender before this gets any worse. He won't do that to her.
"It seems you require another lesson in obedience," Agruss says, then he growls as Ahsoka jabs her blaster harder into his head.
Rex is empty-handed but he doesn't want to risk trying to get himself a new weapon. In this moment the air is thick with tension and the guards and Ahsoka are all being forced towards a decision. Rex knows he and Ahsoka will not win this.
Two things happen all in an instant before he quite understands them: one, a guard shoots the blaster Ahsoka's holding so it explodes into shrapnel; and two, Rex's collar burns sharp into his neck, turning his world black around the edges with pain. He can't see and his muscles cramp tight and won't relax. He can't get a breath, can't think, and he scrabbles at his collar even though that sends stabbing pain up his arms, locks his fingers into paralyzed fists. He doesn't even try to stay standing, just crumples to the ground, stomach heaving. He almost chokes on spit and vomit and he thinks he tastes blood, too.
It's too much, and he's scrabbling at the ground for purchase, back arching, and he realizes he's screaming and he doesn't even care he just wants it to stop please, please I can't please please I want it to be over .
It's nothing but relief when unconsciousness comes, a respite from the pain, however slight. He welcomes the dark, sinks into it without fear. He just wants it to stop.
...
Ahsoka snarls at Agruss, her hands clenching into fists. There's shrapnel from the exploded blaster stabbing deep into both her hands, hot blood dripping between her fingers, but she ignores it, lets the pain fuel her anger. "Release him. Now," she commands fiercely, and Agross' shrapnel-speckled face contorts a little.
"You dare attempt your pitiful Jedi tricks on me?" he snaps. "On. Your. Knees. Or I'll kill your precious clone. I'm sure you have plenty more where it came from."
In an instant, all the bravado, the adrenaline-fueled energy, all the anger- it drains out of her faster than she can blink, and it's all she can do not to cry. "You can't," she pleads, horrified. "Please, you can't-"
"Guards!"
Ahsoka stills, every muscle tensing (no, no, no, this can't be happening), ready to leap into a fight-she can't, she won't let them do this. She won't.
But what can she do to stop it?
"On your knees!"
Rex is unconscious on the ground. It's a small mercy.
Ahsoka doesn't think she'll ever forget the sound of his screams.
(She's never heard him scream before, never heard him give voice to pain like that. It will haunt her forever.)
Crying, sick to her stomach and nearly senseless with pain (both physical and emotional), she bites her tongue so hard she tastes blood to keep herself from screaming and slowly, ever-so-slowly, she drops to her knees. Bows her head, stares at the ground. Every muscle in her body is tight, protesting the subservient position, and she can't breathe from the disgusting shame and horror and self-loathing trapped in her throat. (She'd almost gotten Rex killed. How is she supposed to live with herself? He's unconscious and he screamed and it's all her fault.)
(Everything is her fault.)
"Use the Force again, and the guards will kill your clone bodyguard, Jedi. Are we clear?"
"Yes," Ahsoka whispers, and then gasps when her collar activates, sending pain scorching through her. A shock whip cracks across her shoulders and back headtail, and she yelps. "Yes, Master. Please stop, please, please…"
They leave her there, hunched over Rex's prone body, babbling incoherently through her sobs.
...
Rex wakes up in pain. His arms strain above his head, his wrists cuffed together against the nape of his neck. He's on his knees, and everything burns. There's blood in his mouth, from biting his tongue, he thinks.
He lifts his head and it strains his neck horribly. He whimpers before he can stop himself, and a furry, clawed hand wraps around his chin and yanks his head up. "Look who's awake." Rex closes his eyes, swallows.
Rex! Ahsoka's voice is a shout in his mind and he doesn't mean to but he flinches, retreats into a corner of his mind because he doesn't want to do this anymore, doesn't want to fight, doesn't want them to hurt him anymore.
But it's just instinct, not reason, and he quickly reaches out to her with all the warmth he can muster (it's not much, he's too exhausted).
Rex, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have fought them, he said he was going to kill you. This is my fault. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Rex.
He doesn't have the energy to comfort her, not as well as he should, so he just tries to project the love that still burns deep in his bones. Soka… he thinks, reaching for her mind because he has to, needs her. Soka, it hurts. He doesn't mean to think that, but it's all that's running around in his head, pain and exhaustion and despair.
Rex. Words don't seem to work for either of them, because suddenly Ahsoka presses up closer against his mind, her feelings flooding his senses. He closes his eyes, welcomes her presence.
He feels Ahsoka latch onto his pain and suddenly it lessens, and he realizes she's taking it from him somehow, like she'd wanted to before. He tries, weakly, to protest. You can't do that . But it's such a relief, the pain leaving, that he doesn't think he convinces her.
He's so lost in his own head that he's not really aware of his surroundings, and he's okay with that. He doesn't want to be.
Rex, I'm sorry, she says, and he can tell she's frightened of the way he's thinking. Please, Rex, don't do this .
I'm tired , Ahsoka, he thinks, sharp. It hurts and I'm tired and I can't do this anymore.
I'm sorry, I know this is my fault and I should have listened to you. Next time we can-
Next time. He doesn't mean to let the bitterness bleed through but they're too close and he's angry and hurting. And he's not really angry at her but the cowardly part of him, the part that just wants to survive, is snarling like a wounded, cornered animal. I can't do a 'next time,' Ahsoka. I won't.
And he's at least able to be ashamed of that, of how selfish it is, of how he's making her panic worse.
He can feel she understands, and he's relieved - he'd been afraid she wouldn't. And kriff he loves her, needs her, is glad he's not alone, and he tries to show her. It's an apology, the best he can manage. I'm sorry I don't know how to keep fighting.
There's an answering warmth, tinted with grief and understanding, and Rex sags against his bonds, opens his eyes and forces himself to take stock of his situation, more or less. He's surrounded by guards, his arms tied to a metal frame - he suspects this is what the small structure is here for. It takes him a moment to find Ahsoka, pounding the wall with the pickaxe again. There's a new whip burn across her head and shoulders and Rex feels a dull, distant pulse of anger.
He clenches his fists and sets his teeth against the pain and the ache of the position his body's in. The day is only half done.
My Jedi, he thinks wearily, heavily. My Soka. I'm sorry.
He still hopes he will get the chance, when this is over (because it has to end), to fix this. To apologize, to make up for the distance after Umbara, to hold her when no one's going to hurt either of them.
He clings to this hope, lets himself dream. That's dangerous, but he must or he doesn't think he'll be able to go on. He's drifting a little but it's better than the pain, so he closes his eyes again, latches onto Ahsoka's mind and their imagined future and shuts out the world.
...
Ahsoka can't stop panicking.
She's managed to shield her terror from Rex, not wanting him to realize just how badly he's scaring her, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with-makes it harder, in fact. He's distanced himself from his body, his mind curled up in a corner of hers, dreaming about-something. She doesn't look, doesn't let herself look, because whatever it is it's making him happy and she can't be distracted.
She has to keep working.
Her hands scream with pain, and the burn across the back of her head and shoulders throbs dully in time to her heart, but she forces herself to keep going. She can't even take the time to pick out the metal embedded into her palms, because that would mean stopping, and she knows the penalty for stopping.
Using the Force isn't the only thing they can and will punish her for.
She tries to hide all of the darker thoughts from Rex, but she knows she would never have succeeded if he wasn't so caught up in whatever dreamworld his mind has conjured up-it's an escape mechanism, she knows, and she's not about to deny him his escape. She just keeps slowly but steadily leeching away his pain (because he can't forget it forever, and she wants him to hurt less when he comes back to himself again), resolving to herself to use her rudimentary knowledge of Force healing on him once this shift ends.
If it ends.
She knows, logically, that it has to end; the Zygerrians can't keep them here working forever, but it feels like it. The day passes so slowly. She falls into a rhythm, exhaustion and pain dulling her senses and clouding her thoughts, sucking out any brief spark of light and life.
It's hard to believe she started the day out happy.
Rex is in so much pain; the swirling clouds of his thoughts, before he retreated, were full of darkness, despair, and so much exhaustion she couldn't stop herself from crying. The tears have dried, now, but only because she doesn't have the energy for them. She's so tired and pulling on Rex's pain, keeping her darkest thoughts blocked off from him, and focusing on her work all at once just drains her, leaves her barely able to function.
But it's worth it.
She wraps Rex in a cocoon of warmth and love, all the brightness she can find in her, and cradles his mind close, protecting him with everything she has in her.
She won't fail him again.
Not if it kills her.
Ahsoka is in so much of a fog, dazed and weary to the bone, that the whistles and shouts to signal the end of the shift come as a surprise. The other slaves are standing up, straightening, going to put their pickaxes away; she stares almost uncomprehendingly at them, blinks slowly, watching the way wariness turns to pity and concern on several faces.
None of them speak-they're not allowed to, of course-but a Togrutan woman gently takes Ahsoka's wrist, unwraps her hand from the pickaxe's handle, pulls her away from the wall. She follows the older woman in a daze, feeling rather like a lost child, small and cold and scared, leans her pickaxe against the wall.
She's forgetting something.
Something won't let her leave, although the Togrutan woman tries to tug her away; Ahsoka frowns, tries to think though everything hurts and her head is too fuzzy to make sense of it all. Rex. That's what she's missing. She has-has to get him. From the guards. Right?
The woman gently pulls her wrist again, and Ahsoka shakes her head. "Wait," she says, her voice thick and slow in her ears (almost like the blood still sluggishly pulsing out of her hands). "Rex…"
She turns, looks back, swaying on her feet, blinks a few times in an effort to get her eyes to focus. He's there, not far away-the guards are uncuffing him from the frame he's been attached to, and she really hates it because she remembers how much it hurts him. She hates this whole kriffing place. The guards shove him into the flow of slaves and she loses sight of him for a moment, a sharp spike of panic shooting up her spine and into her throat-what if she can't find him, what if they're separated again-and then he's staggering up beside her, hollow and empty-eyed but here.
"You must come," the woman says, very very quietly, as though she's afraid she'll get electrocuted-but the sound of the lift rising drowns out her voice. "Please, little one."
Ahsoka gives in, follows tamely along, stumbling every few steps and swaying on her feet, dizzy and hurting and sad, and it's like she blinks and the next thing she knows she's accepting her bowl of gruel and bottle of water.
She stops for a moment, confused. How did she get here? The woman is still in front of her, and Rex-she whips her head around (too fast, everything spins and she almost falls over), looking for him, finds him behind her. They're still together. That's good.
Her hands are so weak she almost drops the food and water, but she can't use the Force to help because-because-they'll kill him, they said that. She remembers that now.
That's important, that she remember that, because she can't let them kill him.
She thinks the Zygerrian guard is laughing at her, but she doesn't have the energy to care-she just stumbles over to the corner, slides down the wall, and drops her forehead to her knees, setting her food and water down untouched on the floor beside her.
She's too exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally, to be hungry or thirsty.
...
When they uncuff his hands and let him down, it takes Rex a moment to focus , to come back to himself, and when he does it hurts . The blood rushes painfully back into his hands and he hisses. Getting to his feet is automatic, clumsy, and he searches the crowd of moving slaves for Ahsoka. He has to get to her (what if they don't allow him?), so he focuses hard on putting one foot in front of the other, searching for her.
Then the guards shove him towards the lift, and he almost falls, has to put most of his energy into just standing. But he sees Ahsoka, suddenly, craning her neck like she's looking for someone and, relieved, he finds he's able to walk stronger until he gets to her, falls in step beside her, barely stops himself from speaking. Another slave is supporting Ahsoka, and he meets the woman's eyes, trying to communicate gratefulness.
He can't quite think still, but he knows Ahsoka needs to move, they all do. Now that he's next to her, he finds it easier to breathe. The shift is over. They have time, they can rest. (He refuses to let his mind shift towards tomorrow .)
Their group is one of the first on the lift, and Rex is thankful for the Togrutan woman who stays close to Ahsoka, her eyes gentle and worried. Ahsoka doesn't seem to be able to focus, so he helps guide her to the door of one of the rooms, where the guard shoves their meal into her hands and suddenly she spins, eyes wild, until she meets his gaze and then she sighs and he feels her relief. The guard laughs, a cold sound, but Ahsoka is shaking so Rex ignores the Zygerrian, gently puts his hand on her back and pushes her away from the guard. The guard gives Rex his food and water, sneers at him. Rex finds he doesn't care.
He follows her into the room, finding the energy to search her form for any more injuries. There aren't any new ones, so he nudges at her mind, tries to parse out what he's missed. She doesn't quite let him, although he senses her strict control of her thoughts is wavering. She sinks onto the floor, sets her food and water to one side, and folds over her knees, arms wrapping around them. He sits down next to her, the relaxed position a relief for his aching muscles.
The Togrutan woman who'd been helping her comes over, kneels down, gives him a look like she's trying to figure him out. "She needs to eat."
He nods. "Thank you," he says. His voice breaks and he clears his throat, rubs his face. "For helping her."
She dips her head, seems about to stand and leave, and Rex leans forward. "Wait. I'm sorry. Just… wait. What's your name?"
The woman flinches, blinks, stares at him like he's done something important . "It's… it's Ahsri."
"Thank you, Ahsri," and he doesn't miss how suddenly she's blinking, looking at the floor. Names. It's about her name, he realizes.
"Who are you?" she asks, and it's not just about his name, but that's what he answers with.
"I'm Rex. She's Ahsoka." He nods to his Jedi, who at least appears to be listening , even if he can feel she still has barely any energy.
"They will break her too," Ahsri murmurs. "I don't want that."
"I don't either."
The woman looks at him, nods. "Make sure she eats."
"I will."
Ahsri gets up, goes over to a pallet of her own and lays down, and Rex shifts his focus to Ahsoka. He makes himself put off eating (although he takes a few wonderful, soothing sips of water) so he can get her to at least drink.
"Ahsoka," he says softly, soothing his hand over her shoulder. "Ahsoka, I need you to try to drink something. Please." He reaches out for her mind again, tries to get her to focus. "It will help."
...
Ahsoka is vaguely aware of the conversation, although she's mostly just drifting, her thoughts strange and slow and far away. Her body, Rex, the woman (Ahsri, something tells her), they all seem so… remote, distant. All her own pain, the pain she's still taking from Rex-though her control is fading fast -the dark thoughts and fear that have been smothering her: all of it fades away, until there's nothing but her and the Force and blissful relief.
Rex's hand on her shoulder is an anchor, tugging her back to her material body, and she moans softly as everything comes rushing back, hunching in on herself. "Let me-float," she tries to say, but she's slurring her words together and she's not sure Rex can understand what she means, anyway.
She tries to explain, but she's too tired to try and open her mouth again-and Rex is poking at her mind, and she struggles to hold her shields, hold everything up, but she's just so tired and she can't think and she just wants it all to stop. It's too much.
"Not-thirsty," she rasps out, and it's only half a lie. The Force beckons her, and she tries to slip back into its comforting embrace, but something is holding her back.
No, not something.
Someone.
Rex.
...
She's not really responding and it scares Rex enough that he can finally push back the fog of pain and exhaustion that's been drowning him ever since they'd tried to fight. Ahsoka, come on. Please.
She's trying to keep him at a distance, he feels it, and it's not good, not what either of them needs. He can't push past her shields, and wouldn't if he could, but he still feels fragments of her pain and fear and… oh kriff, Ahsoka . She's hanging onto some of his pain, keeping him from feeling it, but that means she does and although he doesn't want to he instinctively pulls , makes her let the pain go and settle back on him.
It's all so much worse for a moment, and the fog of despair creeps up on him again, because he can't do this - but it passes, and he makes himself bear it, get used to it.
He thinks that's helped her a little, at least, and he presses against her thoughts again. Drink something. Just half the bottle at least, Soka.
...
He takes his pain back from her, won't let her keep it, and she hates having to give it back but she's not strong enough to hold on anymore, too tired to fight. And it does help, because she's not having to focus so hard now, and there's a bit less of a fog, but still… half the bottle, Rex asks her, and just the thought of moving her hand, lifting her head, is almost too much to bear.
But it's Rex, and she can vaguely feel how worried he is, so she uncurls one hand, hissing a little as the shrapnel shifts and cuts deeper into the meat of her palm and the muscles of her fingers and the skin on the back of her hand, and shakily reaches for where she'd put the bottle. She doesn't yet have the energy to lift her head.
But instead of the water bottle, she finds Rex's hand.
What…?
...
Rex shouldn't stop her from drinking now that she's finally listening to him, but oh kriff, her hand. He catches her searching fingers, gently turns her hand so he can look at her palm. It's full of metal splinters and he remembers the blaster exploding in her hands.
Oh, Soka. He instinctively starts pulling the shrapnel out of her palm, although it makes her flinch. Some of the shards have pierced deep, and these he pulls free quickly, efficiently, so it doesn't cause her more pain than it has to. He reaches for his water bottle, pours a little of the liquid into her palm, trying to at least clean the wounds a little. Then he sighs and turns her hand over, goes back to his task. At least the back of her hand isn't as hurt, so it doesn't take as long and he uses less water to clean it.
Can you drink now? He lets go of her hand, slides her water bottle closer to her. He sips some of his own water, washes most of the taste of blood out of his mouth.
...
It hurts, when Rex pulls the shrapnel from her hand; she bites her tongue and swallows back her whimpers, knowing he's using his own precious supply of water to clean the cuts and gashes.
She fumbles with the bottle, gets the lid off, and then takes a shuddering breath. This is the hardest part.
It takes almost all of her energy, but Ahsoka slowly lifts her head from her knees, brings the bottle to her lips (her hands shaking so badly the water sloshes out the top, a little), takes a couple careful sips. Her throat is raw and the water both stings and soothes it. She swallows down maybe a quarter of the liquid, and then her arm just… gives out, and she has to carefully set the bottle down before she drops it.
Sorry…
...
Rex takes the apology, sends back a soothing understanding. "Give me your other hand," he says softly, and she extends it, trembling. This hand is in worse shape than the other, and he spends longer cleaning out the wounds, although he feels her wince with his every move to help. Try again,he thinks, and she's still so weary but she picks up the water bottle again, gulps more of it down. It's over half gone when she tires again, and he takes the bottle and sets it to the side. She can finish it later.
He wants to get her to eat something, too, but just now he feels that isn't going to work. So he shifts over so their shoulders brush, just a little, and eats his own food. It helps, although the food is never quite enough.
Little gods, he's so exhausted and he wants nothing more than to sleep, but Ahsoka needs him and he wants to communicate with her, wants to actually have something like a lucid conversation. But he doesn't know if he can tonight; she's not letting him see her thoughts, although he thinks it would help her to stop holding it all so tight .
He finishes his food and, yet again, sends a thought her way. Can we try eating something? He doesn't think she'll agree, but Ahsri was right, she needs food.
She doesn't respond, and he focuses more on her mind, tries to send warmth and strength. Just a little, Soka .
He doesn't know whether his words trigger it or something else, but suddenly her self-control cracks, her shields faltering, and he's flooded with sorrow and anguish and weariness so heavy it's almost a physical weight. He closes his eyes and does his best to weather it, not dwell on it.
...
Sorry, Ahsoka sends weakly, trying to get her shields back under control. She's so tired and she wants nothing more than to just curl up in a corner of his mind the way he had in hers earlier that day, but she can't make him feel all the dark shame and guilt and self-loathing and fear she's been holding so close to herself.
Too late, she realizes he's able to see the thoughts running across the surface of her mind, and she can tell by the surge of warmth that he's projecting, trying to comfort her.
But she doesn't deserve his comfort, his love.
She almost got him killed.
Against her will, a single tear slips past her eyelashes, and she makes a small, stifled noise that sounds suspiciously like a choked sob.
...
Rex gives up on the food and drink for now, instead fitting his arms under her knees and around her shoulders and lifting her (more clumsily than he'd like) into his lap, against his chest. And it hurts a little, but it also feels safe, comforting. He holds her tight and tries to soothe the tangled, pained mess that is her thoughts.
I love you, he thinks. And kriff, this morning that had felt like strength, like something that was just his. Now it's a weapon they've turned against him and he hates it. It's not right. But still, he does love her, won't let himself stop saying it.
He ends up mostly thinking soothing nonsense, telling her he loves her, promising they'll figure it out, telling her he doesn't blame her, anything to try to give her some kind of peace. She's feeling a lot of guilt and a lot of anger, the emotions feeding each other, and he tries to tell her the anger is okay.
He can feel she's scared for him too, on top of it all, but he doesn't know how to address that without giving away how lost he still is, how much it hurts. So he just brushes lightly over those thoughts, tries to bring calm .
Most of the other slaves, including Ahsri, are already sleeping, but his Jedi is crying, so he rubs her shoulder and rests his chin against her forehead, swallowing.
...
Ahsoka cries into his chest until the tears run out, and then she just breathes, letting Rex's soothing reassurance and calm wash over her. He's trying to show her that her anger is okay, but Master Yoda's words echo in her mind: fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. Fear is the path to the Dark Side, and she can't understand.
Maybe it's okay for a soldier, but she's a Jedi. She's held to a different standard.
She realizes, after a moment, just how tired Rex is, and without thinking she Force-pulls a blanket over them (the guards aren't here, she's safe, he's safe, they can't hurt him), nestles into his chest. Love you, Rex, and she tries sleepily to soothe away his own fear and grief. He won't let her near his pain, which she supposes makes sense, given what she'd done earlier, but…
I know a little Force-healing, she tells him, was going to use it but I'm tired, can't focus. Sorry. I'm sorry they shocked you. I'll be good, I promise, I won't let them kill you. I won't.
...
He shouldn't feel relieved when she thinks that, but he's given up on corralling thoughts like that. He's too tired.
Never mind, he hums. I don't need healing. I'll be fine.
He looks at her hands again and knows she can't work with them like that, it would destroy them, so he tears at the sleeve of his shirt, manages to rip it off entirely. He pulls her hands out from under the blanket and sets about bandaging the left hand, the way Kix showed him what feels like ages ago. He hopes the slavers will permit this, but he doesn't think Ahsoka will be able to work if he doesn't do this. He tears off his other sleeve, does the same for her other hand, his fingers fumbling a little on the knot.
His eyes are drifting closed, and he can't totally keep them open, knows he just has to sleep. He lets go of her hands, leans his head back against the wall. Please try to eat , he says one more time, insistent. He's falling asleep even though all he wants to do is talk to her.
He kisses her head, then looks up in time to see their guards watching them, eyes gleaming with cruelty in the dim room. He closes his eyes, reaches for the waves of sleep and welcomes them. He can't spare the energy to be angry at the guards, and can barely spare enough to be afraid of them. He just wants to rest. He pulls Ahsoka tighter against his chest, sighs softly.
...
She can feel Rex falling asleep, and she wants to join him, but- please try to eat, he asks, and she swallows.
She can do this thing first. For Rex.
Ahsoka brings the bowl into her lap, carefully takes a few bites; once she starts, she realizes how hungry she is, and she finishes the food quickly. The simple act of eating takes what's left of her energy, though, and she sets the bowl aside with a shaking hand and curls closer to Rex. She reaches for his mind, nestling into the warmth and light and love he feels, and closes her eyes.
The last thing she remembers, before she finally gives into her exhaustion, is Rex holding her like she's worth the world and whispering that it'll be okay.
...
Rex wakes up to a sharp kick to his shins, and as he struggles free of the bonds of sleep, his arms tighten around Ahsoka automatically. To his surprise, he thinks it's Ahsri who kicked him; she's walking away from him, and as he looks up at her, her eyes flick toward the door.
The other slaves are already up and shuffling out of the room and Rex realizes if he doesn't get them up and moving, now , the guards will do it for him. Panic wakes him up fast and he stands, pulling Ahsoka with him, shaking her a little to try to get her awake. He pushes into her thoughts, interrupts a dream, yanks her mind awake. It's not kind but she finds her feet fast, letting out a groan. He walks them to the door, ignores his screaming muscles. They're handed their water and he sighs, lets himself relax a little, doesn't let go of Ahsoka just yet.
Good morning, he thinks, wearily.
It's another day.
They drink their water (Ahsoka is awake now, and thank the little gods she's actually thinking, focusing) and step onto the lift, and Rex rolls his shoulders, makes himself stretch.
They're put to work at the same thing as yesterday: breaking stone off the wall in chunks, just standing and swinging their pickaxes. Rex spots Ahsri partway across the cavern, doing some kind of mechanical work. He hopes she's alright but he can't spare the time to keep looking.
He is here to work . Forget trying to make sure everyone else is okay - he'll do what he can do to make sure he's not punished, that nothing he does can hurt Ahsoka or the others.
He doesn't allow himself space to be angry.
...
Rex pulls her straight from a dream (a pleasant one; she's back on the Resolute with Rex and the men and Anakin and Padme's with them, for some reason, and she hatches a plan with Fives and Rex and Tup and catches Anakin kissing Padme on a holo. Which, of course, is sufficient proof that she wins the betting pool. She's jerked awake just as Rex leans in to kiss her, even though all the men are watching.) and she struggles to regain awareness, knowing he wouldn't have done it if it wasn't important-it's not the nice way to wake someone up. She groans softly, all her myriad aches and pains reasserting themselves, and stumbles against Rex's side.
It takes her the length of the room, but she manages to find her feet, get her balance, regain her bearings before approaching the guard for her water. Rex keeps a gentle hold of her as they file onto the lift, and it's only when they step out into the cavern that he lets go-because they'll be punished if he doesn't, she thinks.
Ahsoka keeps her head down, grabs a pickaxe and follows Rex to the wall, starts working. It hurts and she's still tired but the sleep helped some and at least she's able to think today-although the fact that she's not overextending herself trying to do multiple things at once is helping. The makeshift bandages around her hands are a lifesaver; she presses a rush of gratitude at Rex for his foresight, because after maybe an hour she can feel the injuries starting to tear open, blisters popping, blood starting to seep from the open wounds, but the bandages (which are just material torn from the sleeves of his shirt, she realizes) protect them from dirt and rocks getting lodged in the sensitive flesh.
Thank you for waking me up, she tells Rex at one point, feels an answering hum of warm reassurance, a vague sort of idea that he wasn't going to let the guards do it. Smart of him, because Force knows the Zygerrians' idea of an alarm clock is probably a wake-up shock from the collar or a shock whip.
Not exactly what she would call the best start to a morning.
She's not cheerful, this morning (that'd been a mistake, to think she could be happy , could be safe while she's here), but she's gone numb, for the most part, disconnecting her mind from her body as best she can without totally slipping into the Force. It's like a moving meditation, albeit a much more painful and exhausting one than the typical lightsaber drills she and Anakin usually do.
(Thinking about Anakin hurts, because he was a slave and now he's a slave again and she doesn't even know if he's still alive or if the queen has killed him yet or-and she breaks the thought off, refuses to follow it to its conclusion.)
...
Rex doesn't quite mean to, but as the morning wears on he pulls back a little from Ahsoka's mind, restricts their communication to just a hum of emotions in the back of his mind. It's strange - he's not sure he can ever totally shut her out again, because there's almost a compass needle in his thoughts pointing back to her. He doesn't know what it means except that she can still sense more of his thoughts than he wishes she could.
He's long ago stopped trying to make sense of the mess in his head, because it isn't worth it and it makes him feel a little sick. He makes the mistake, just once, of thinking of his General and his men, Kix and Fives and Jesse, and the shame the thought brings is too much so he pushes that away.
He can't think about the mission, the fact that this was supposed to be a rescue, the feeling of failure , or else he thinks he might try to fight again and that is not an option .
Their guards give them more space today, maybe because they know that neither of them can really take more injuries and still be useful. Maybe because they're finally just working , just doing what they're supposed to, like everyone else here.
Ahsoka presses against his mind, insistent, and he considers holding her off, keeping her at arm's length. It would be easier to just focus if he wasn't trying to talk to her too. But he still needs her, doesn't want to be alone, so he sighs and puts down his shields. He doesn't bother trying to hide his thoughts or his exhaustion. It's not worth the effort.
...
Ahsoka swallows at the exhaustion, the numbness, the self-hatred she can feel in every corner of Rex's thoughts, but she doesn't say anything. Not now, not when his mind so accurately mirrors her own. Instead, she just hums a thank you at him, grateful that he's not trying to shut her out.
She doesn't think she could bear it, if he did, and she makes sure to let that thought float across to him.
She's exhausted, but she tries not to focus on that, instead letting the repetitive motion of swinging the pickaxe lull her deeper into meditation, into calm, even though the Force-granted, fabled Jedi serenity is hardly real tranquility-just letting the Force take her emotions away until she can deal with them some other time. It's not the healthiest way to cope, she's pretty sure, and the Temple mindhealers would no doubt chew her out for this, but…
But give them a few days in a slave mine deliberately engineered to break Jedi and let them see how they fare.
(Part of her knows she shouldn't think this way, shouldn't let viciousness take over-because she knows that thought wasn't in jest.
If she were a little less tired, less ensconced in the Force, it might've scared her.)
...
He's only punished once that morning (or perhaps now it's afternoon, he's not sure), when his exhaustion gets the better of him and he falters, hesitates too long between strikes. One of the guards cracks their whip across his back, and he jolts, nearly drops the pickaxe.
Rex! Ahsoka feels worried, and he can tell she's hoping he'll be able to recover fast and get back to work. And he does. Tightens his fists around the pickaxe. Lifts it over his shoulder. Swings it down with a heavy clang of metal on stone.
Because he's exhausted and everything hurts, but something small and fierce and warm in his gut tells him he cannot allow them to hurt her again.
It's the same feeling that tries to drive him to fight when, some time later, Zygerrians in gleaming armor come to get them, grab their arms and cuff them behind their backs. He stifles it, stares at the ground, and tries to reach out more to Ahsoka. He does put some effort into hiding the panic that's begun building in the back of his mind, especially as they're taken to the lift and it starts going up. He just wants them to leave him alone. He's tried his best, he's behaved, he's worked and he doesn't know what else he can do. They can't hurt them anymore, he wouldn't be able to take it . He knows he wouldn't.
But he looks at Ahsoka and the tiny, fierce part of him says that he'll take it, if he must, so long as she's safe.
You can't afford to think like that .
The guards take them outside, into the sunlight, and rather than taking them to their sleeping quarters, march them past the long, low buildings towards the imposing structure they had seen on their first day here.
This isn't good. He forces himself to come out of his daze a little, to try and analyze the situation. They're bound, which makes it unlikely they're being taken somewhere to work. If he had to guess, he'd say the building they're being led towards is the main center of operations for the Zygerrians stationed here, including Keeper Agruss. These guards are a higher class of guard than those in the pit; the whips they carry have stylized handles, and they have blasters too. He hopes they aren't being taken to Agruss again, but it seems like the most reasonable assumption.
Not again . He doesn't want to face that slaver again.
Ahsoka's thoughts feel soft against his and he realizes she's trying to calm him down; he's let his panic creep out of his control.
Grateful, he regulates his breathing, pushes down some of the deeper fears. He'll do what he has to, and they'll both survive.
...
Rex thinks they're being taken to Agruss again; Ahsoka doesn't want to think that, but she has to admit it's the most obvious conclusion. It scares her, though, or at least the little part of her still capable of fear.
What have the Zygerrians found to punish them for now?
She knows they've been almost perfect today, neither she nor Rex willing to risk any further harm to the other, and the guards have found other slaves to entertain them-probably because the guards can tell they've nearly reached the limit of abuse their bodies can handle. If Agruss wanted to gloat, he would've come back down into the pit like he had previously, to laugh at them in their low circumstances. She can't quite parse out what bringing them from the pit could do to prove a point.
It doesn't make sense.
The guards bring them inside the command center. Agruss sits inside, a smug smirk on his face. (She feels a sharp satisfaction at his lack of repulsorlift chair and the myriad of small shrapnel wounds all over his hideous face.) "Jedi!" he says cheerfully, and she shudders because Agruss cheerful can only mean something bad.. "I have someone who wants to talk to you!"
He holds up a holocomm, and Ahsoka swears.
Something bad is an understatement.
It's Dooku.
...
The guards push them both to their knees in a command center of sorts, and for the first time in days Rex thinks of Krell, of his snarling face.
When Agruss holds up a holocomm and the imposing figure of Count Dooku flickers to shape above his hand, Rex's automatic reaction is shame and disgust. It's a reminder of the war he's supposed to be fighting, and he kneels here on the floor injured, cowed, and clothes in tatters.
He feels a surge of defiance in Ahsoka, and he glances at her, wishing he could follow her example and glare unflinching at their enemy. But he thinks he's too ashamed.
Dooku's comm is a bad sign, although he isn't sure just what it means.
"Well, well. What unfortunate circumstances you find yourself in, Padawan Tano," Dooku says, coolly, hands clasped behind his back. "I have heard such interesting things about your progress."
Rex's heart pounds a dull, angry beat. He cannot treat her like that.
Maybe it's the knowledge that if Dooku is here, things can't get much worse, that they might die anyway. Maybe it's the reminder of war and the reason they're here, and the fact that none of the colonists are here to pay for their mistakes.
Rex is angry , burning, and he grits his teeth so he doesn't speak up. That's still not safe.
...
How is Dooku involved with this mess?
The sight of the Separatist leader throws Ahsoka rapidly back into the war she's almost forgotten about, these past couple days; the terrified slave disappears, the decorated (though less so than her Master) war hero reemerging. (It's a farce, because underneath it all she's still scared and numb and breaking, but she's not about to let him know that.) But why is he here? The last she'd known, Zygerria wasn't a part of the CIS, but…
"Count Dooku," Ahsoka spits out hatefully, letting the anger she feels at the Sith Lord take over, carry through the numbness, giver her power and the urge to fight. "What do you want?"
"I merely wished to congratulate Keeper Agruss on his extraordinary achievement, Padawan Tano," Dooku says, and his voice is smooth as silk, but oily and disgusting. "You are a very spirited young woman. When I heard he'd broken you, I couldn't resist."
"Well, you heard wrong," she snarls, and hopes the angry words hide the hollowness in her heart. (She's not sure she's successful.)
Dooku shrugs, as though it doesn't matter to him either way. "Broken or not, you will still be executed-you and your captain."
(She finds herself thinking she'd rather be executed than live another day in this hell.)
And then one of the Zygerrians says, "A slave ship just made an unscheduled landing-"
"Skywalker!" Agruss snarls-but Ahsoka can't let herself hope. There's no escape from here. She'd tried that once, and Rex had nearly been killed for her effort.
"No comment, Padawan?" Dooku asks, and the smugness just grows. "You truly are broken. If Skywalker doesn't surrender, I have ordered the slaves to be terminated-in his name."
The cold comes back, and the numbness with it, and Ahsoka almost, almost says what do I care, except she remembers Ahsri's kindness and knows she does care, and Anakin will too.
Dooku's hologram flickers out.
And Agruss brings forward a datapad. "You will tell Skywalker the consequences for his actions," he growls out, giving the datapad to a guard, who holds it in front of her face. The screen flickers on, reveals a view of a door.
As she watches, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Artoo back into the frame, and for a moment Ahsoka can't even breathe, because he looks a little worn and singed around the edges, but her Master is there, so close she can almost touch him, and-
Another guard jabs the tip of his electrostaff under Rex's chin, and she swallows, gets the message. She takes a deep breath (there's a voice in her head chanting survive, survive, do what you're told so you don't get hurt and she can't ignore it). "Master," and she chokes on the word, remembering shock whips and Rex screaming and the worst pain she's ever felt before, and she can't keep going.
At the sound of her voice, Anakin spins, so fast she almost expects him to fall over, finds whatever screen her face is displayed on. "Snips!" He's grinning, but then he looks at her and the smile turns to an absolutely murderous rage. "Who did this to you?"
And she wants to tell him, she wants to explain, but she flicks her eyes over to Rex and sees the cruel way the guard threatening him is smiling, and Rex's thoughts are silently pleading with her not to fight, just survive (and he's hating himself for it). "You have to surrender," she says instead. "They're going to kill the colonists if you don't."
To her horror (but not to her surprise), Anakin shakes his head. "I'm done making deals with slaver scum," he hisses.
"You can't fight them!" Her voice is rising and she thinks some of the fear and pain is visible-she tries to lock it back down, reaches for the numbness again, falls back into the Force with some difficulty.
"What did they do to you, Ahsoka?" and the question is little more than a horrified whisper.
She closes her eyes. "You have to know you can't win this alone. Not this time," and she tries to keep her voice from shaking. (She is numb, she is the Force, there is no emotion, there is peace.)
"Who says I'm alone?" There's a pause, and then: "Just hang on, Snips. I'm coming for you."
And the transmission cuts out.
"Keeper, our scanners are picking up warships coming out of hyperspace," a Zygerrian says nervously.
"Jedi reinforcements." Agruss sounds almost amused. "There is nothing they can do. I have the Padawan and the clone. If the slaves' demise doesn't stop the attack, the threat of losing one of their own will."
Pawns, then. They're just pawns. And the sickening thing is it'll work, because Anakin isn't going to be able to let them kill her. (She almost reaches for their training bond, to tell him, but something stops her-she knows she won't be able to shield everything from him, and she doesn't want him to find out how broken she is. How she's abandoned everything the Jedi stand for, here in this mine.)
She concentrates for a moment, feeling through the Force for a pair of familiar vibrations; her lightsabers are here, somewhere. If she could just get this kriffing shock collar off… we can't fight them, a part of her mind whispers, but she's angry. How dare they use her against Anakin? She can't let that happen.
They have to fight.
Rex, she thinks, reaching for his mind, if Anakin's going to be able to save my people, we have to take control of this room. A pause, while she lets that sink in. I think I can get the collars off, and I can feel my 'sabers here somewhere…
She's asking him to fight.
Not outright, but that's the obvious conclusion to her train of thought. She can't make herself ask any clearer, though. (She remembers, I can't do a 'next time', Ahsoka, remembers him screaming and writhing on the floor, and she can't ask. Can't ask him to fight, because they're the only ones here to be punished.)
The Force burns with anger, with desperation, with her desire to survive. She gathers it all in, builds up a wave of power-waits for Rex's response-prepares to pull her collar from her neck.
Ahsoka opens her eyes.