FYI: Please pay attention to the dates...we shift forward in time just a bit mid-chapter.

When I first posted this, some folks got upset because there was no "warning" for the allusions of homosexuality in this chapter and in some of the ones that follow. If you care about such things, consider yourself warned.

Chapter Eleven: Picking Up the Pieces

1082 days ABG

In addition to being a gifted, albeit non-Force sensitive healer, Upala had a technical knowledge that Weave was learning to appreciate more and more. Her assistant, the coral-skinned Twi'lek named Ares, was less informed, but determined to help in any way he could. For that, Weave was thankful, as it soon became apparent that Levy was scarred in ways that went beyond the series of wires and metallic parts on his arm.

When the boy woke up, he was wild.

There are few forces in the galaxy that can handle a frightened, disoriented Human – even a small one – who has been trained in innumerable forms of combat since birth, and Weave found that he was hard-pressed to keep Levy still so that he and Upala could examine what Creon had done to the lad. The blankets and pillows that Ares had stacked on the table were soon tossed to the floor of the infirmary as Levy writhed and kicked, fighting both Weave and the Twi'lek for all he was worth. But despite the struggling of his body his voice was absent; his eyes were wide and sightless and he seemed to be completely unaware of anything except his own, shuddering fear. Finally Upala had to sedate him again just so that he wouldn't hurt himself, and when Levy was sleeping once more, she looked at Weave, her pale eyes filled with sorrow.

But he had little time for pity and did not let her say what he supposed she was thinking. "Do you think we can undo whatever Creon did?" Even though he thought he knew the answer, Weave couldn't keep himself from voicing the question.

She looked at the boy; the lower half of his left arm was outfitted with lacy metal-work, much like Weave's own implant. "Some of it, perhaps. But the Kaminoan knew what he was doing...I'm not sure what has been done can ever be undone." Her voice was soft and warm, but Weave felt his blood turn to ice anyway.

On Levy's other side, Ares frowned. "We can't keep him sedated forever. You said that you gathered many of the Kaminoan's notes?" He looked at Weave, his expression suddenly optimistic. "Perhaps the answer lies there."

Of course. Should have thought of that first...maybe I'm more tired than I thought. The clone pulled out one of the datasticks from his belt and plugged it into the small port at the infirmary's computer; moments later the three of them were clustered around the screen while Weave scanned through the readout. "It's incredible..." he breathed. "It's so detailed...it's going to take me months to go through just what's on here." And I filled how many of these things?

"What's that?" Upala pointed at a section of numbers and codes; Weave frowned.

"It looks familiar..." While he rubbed at his right eye with the palm of his hand, he cast his mind back for the answer; it came to him in a flash and he looked up at Upala, his eyes wide. "I think I know. It may be a long shot, but it's worth a try." He turned to Ares. "Would you mind running an errand for me?"

About a quarter of an hour later, the Twi'lek returned with the datapad from Weave and Milo's room on the Wayfarer. Weave held up the code against the screen and nodded. Milo's a kriffing genius. "See that? My brother said it's musical notes, and he's right. And there's a note here-" he pointed to the computer screen. "-that indicates that Creon was having trouble programming the nanogene droids with normal commands...what if he used music?" The pace of his words was quickening as his train of thought barreled ahead. "What if he used a simple melody like this in place of command codes?"

Upala glanced from one screen to another. "Strange...but not out of the question." She smiled at Weave. "You can read music?"

He was hardly listening to her, but he nodded almost out of habit. "Kalinda taught us...we've all been playing music together for almost two years now." Memories of long hours on the ship spent making music with his "family" came to him and he smiled even as he glanced at Ares again. "You don't happen to have a dulcimer on board, do you?"

The Twi'lek sighed, though he was grinning as well; if Weave hadn't known any better, he would have thought that Ares looked rather pleased at something. "Very possible, but I'm guessing you have one on your ship, in case we don't?" Weave nodded and the Twi'lek moved to the door eagerly. "Then I'll be right back."

For the first time in his recent memory, Traxis had nothing to do.

Crest, Stonewall and Milo were in bacta tanks; Weave was in the infirmary with the clone boy that the aiwha-bait had "modified" – Trax thought that he would never be able to hear that word again without cringing – and he hadn't seen either of the Jedi for some time after Kalinda and Altis had left the mess hall. As he sat with the clone cadets and the Padawan, he noticed one of General Altis' pupils or followers or whatever they called themselves, the Twi'lek who had come with the Jedi when the Wookiee Gunner had met up with the Wayfarer, hurrying through the room, his face drawn in concentration.

Despite his worry over his brothers and the lads, despite his agitation over their mission, despite the broad feeling of discontent that had sprung to his mind in the day after the rescue, Traxis noticed the coral-skinned Twi'lek in a way that was more distracting than anything else. It occurred to him that he'd never caught the fellow's name. Doesn't matter, anyway, he thought as he looked down at his plate. You're not here to flirt; you have a job to do, soldier. But still. He glanced up, thinking that the Twi'lek would have left the room already, but surprisingly, he had not, as he was speaking to one of his compatriots in the far corner. If Traxis had been a man of idle speculation, he would have thought that the Twi'lek's gaze fell on him for a brief moment before he hurried out of the room.

Fierfek. I should get some rest, I suppose. I've started hallucinating. But he was far from tired. Clones could go for much longer than most Humans without sleep – another by-product of the Kaminoans' genetic tinkering – and he found that he was reluctant to spend any more time in the infirmary, watching his brothers float around in tanks that were eerily similar to decanting jars, or listen to Weave attempting to sort out whatever the long-neck had done to Levy.

So he remained in the mess – the cafeteria, he reminded himself – watching his young brothers' attempts to eat their weight in various foodstuffs. The clone found the situation peaceful in a way that he was wholly unaccustomed to. Not being shot at has its advantages, I guess. And the kids are entertaining to be around...kind of like hanging out with Crest, only with less crude jokes.

Commander Zara had eaten her fill a while ago and was watching the boys with amusement as they continued to 'fill their boots.' "Where does it all go?" Here in the gentle light of the Chu'unthor, Traxis could see that she was definitely not one hundred-percent Nautolan, though she certainly had the look: pale blue skin, large eyes that blinked but rarely, and a multitude of thick lekku that hung down her back. However, her features were more humanoid than the Nautolans he'd seen, and her lekku were not as numerous. He wondered if it would be out of line to ask about her parents, then realized that she probably didn't know them, anyway.

The lad she'd spoken to – No-Name – smiled at her and patted his stomach with affection. "I'm giving it a good home."

As Traxis chuckled at this – the memory of being young and constantly starving was clear – he noticed the Twi'lek had re-entered the room, though his gait was a little too slow, a bit too casual, which made Trax's stomach do an interesting, if annoying flip. Again, the Twi'lek approached another of Altis' followers; again, Trax was almost certain that the other man's eyes fell on him.

Am I losing my mind? Who in the galaxy would look at a clone like that? Besides a certain Jedi. He sighed as the boys and the Padawan continued their conversation, heedless of his distraction.

"We're always hungry," another lad – Keo – said, brushing his long, scraggly hair out of his eyes. "Part of the accelerated aging, Commander." The same scrap of hair fell back in its place and he pushed it aside again.

This gave Traxis an idea. It only took him a few minutes to work up the nerve to get up and cross the room to where the Twi'lek was speaking with a Rodian male. At the clone's approach, the Twi'lek glanced his way and gave him a wide smile, which nearly made Traxis turn around. However, he was able to mentally shake off his agitation. You're a soldier, for kriff's sake. You've faced much worse odds of being shot down. After taking a breath he gestured to the lads, whom he knew were tracking his movements. "Any idea where there's a 'fresher nearby? They need some cleaning up."

The Twi'lek nodded; when he spoke, his lilting accent held a vague edge of humor. "Through those doors to the left...the middle turbolift will take you to the crew quarters. You should be able to find what you need, there." There was a pause before he extended his hand. "I'm Ares, by the way."

"Traxis." The scarred clone almost didn't shake Ares' hand, then thought better of it. The Twi'lek had a firm grip and he was thankful that he was wearing his gloves in case his own palm was sweaty. Not that I'm nervous. Not that I have any reason to be nervous. "Thanks." He turned to leave, but Ares tapped his shoulder.

"Your comrade asked me to find a dulcimer aboard your ship," he said, meeting Traxis' eyes. "But I'm afraid I can't locate it..."

Traxis tried not to not meet the Twi'lek's brown eyes. "Check the main officer's cabin; that's where we usually keep the instruments."

Ares nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you, Traxis." His accent made Trax's name sound rather interesting, but the scarred clone shook the thought away as he turned to leave once more.

When he returned to the table and stood at the head, five pairs of eyes fell on him and the clone cadets straightened out of habit. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you lot cleaned up and make you look like proper troopers again." As they stood up he glanced at the Padawan, who looked a bit lost at his words. As he felt that if he was responsible for the girl – at least for now – he cleared his throat. "Commander, they'll need some clean clothes as well. Do you think you can find some?" Indeed, they were still wearing their cadet uniforms, which were ragged and filthy.

Her face lit up like he'd asked her to eat a whole muja-pie. "Okay." She paused and tilted her head. "Do you think that Master Tallis and Master Halcyon will want some as well? Their robes got pretty burned."

I have no idea, but I reckon so. "Sounds good, Commander. I'm sure they'll appreciate it." He told her where he and the lads would be and she darted off; he did not miss how the boys watched her movements and sighed to himself. Something about those Jedi...I'm glad I'm immune. Well, to the Jedi-stuff, at least. He resisted the urge to see if Ares was still in the cafeteria as he nodded to the lads, who stood arrow-straight and watched him expectantly. "Alright men. Let's go."

1084 days ABG

Kalinda awoke in a bed, of all places. For several moments she was disoriented when she reached out for Stonewall's familiar presence beside her but was met with only cool, soft sheets; the sensation made her sit up and stare around the room even as she wracked her brain to try and remember how she came to be there. I sent a transmission to the Temple...but that's the last thing I can recall.

It was not a large space. The furnishings were spare and looked cobbled together, as if pulled from several different sources: the bed on which she'd slept was small and fitted with an assortment of blankets – many of which looked handmade – and it was incongruously equipped with a wooden headboard and footboard; there was a military-looking, durasteel desk against one wall with several flimsinovels stacked haphazardly atop it; stranger still was an unfamiliar set of clothing that was laid over the edge of the bed. Though she was dressed in her old undershirt, her outer-tunic was nowhere in sight.

She sat up and rubbed at her eyes, trying to sort out the tangle of emotions and memories that were snagging on the edges of her mind. After another moment she noticed that her armor was stacked to one side of the desk – cleaned and shining beneath the soft glow of light from the stars beyond the window – and her familiar boots were placed by the door. A moment of reflection told her that her body was still tired but she was otherwise healthy; peeling back the bandages on her arm and cheek revealed that the Force had sped her healing along. A good thing, considering that I have more than enough work to do now.

Figuring that her Jedi robes had been too burned by the fire on Sethos to salvage, Kali slipped out of the bed and dressed in the provided attire: a pale blue tunic that fell past her hips, a pair of slender pants with multiple pockets that she thought would come in handy, and a long-sleeved, indigo over-shirt which was soft and faded and unlike anything she'd ever donned. Her old boots were a comfort. The armor she left to the side for now. She spotted her lightsaber on the desk and clipped it to her belt before making her way out the door.

For a moment she stood and looked at what she figured were the crew quarters of the vessel: the room she'd awoken in was one amongst a wide corridor of cabins, some with hangings on the doors, painted images or nameplates; beneath her feet was a soft carpet, unlike anything she'd ever seen on a ship, which muted her steps and provided an interesting contrast to the massive bubble of transparisteel above her head that gave a view of the stars; one side of the corridor opened up to a rounded area with cushiony seating and a holo-projector that may have been the living room of a civilian family, had it not been aboard the praxeum ship.

Stonewall's face was at the front of her brain, but she knew she had to catch up with Honi and the rest of the guys. There's so much to do. I don't know where I should start.

But before she could reach a decision, her stomach let out a feral growl and she winced at the sharp pang of hunger that followed. I suppose I need to eat as well. How long was I asleep? Her chrono had been nowhere in sight in the room where she'd woken. Another moment of deliberation and she thought that she remembered where the cafeteria was located, so she began to head that way. As she walked, she caught sight of a few of Altis' students, people who met her eyes and nodded or smiled, but made no attempt to speak to her. Aside from the humming of distant engines it was quiet. Her feet made no sound against the floor and she took a moment to marvel that this ship was unlike any other on which she'd traveled.

It's beautiful in its own way. Almost...homey. She frowned at the strange thought but before she could continue the sound of her name reached her ears. Rather, it was her title and it gave her pause.

"Master Halcyon." Kali turned to see Zara approaching, four clone cadets trailing in her wake, all of whom were staring at the adult Jedi with nothing short of awe as the Nautolan girl jogged to meet her. "Master Altis asked us to keep an eye out for you," she said, looking up at Kali with dark eyes. "Are you hungry? He said you would be hungry." Behind her, a few of the boys nodded but said nothing.

Kali smiled at the children. One thing went right, anyway. The best thing. "Hungry as a wampa. Hopefully you can show me where I can get some food?" At some point the cadets had been cleaned up and had their hair cut, and she wondered who had done so. I'm glad. They look healthier than they did on Sethos...more 'normal,' now. But this thought made her wince inwardly. They look normal, but what about within? How has their ordeal affected them? Will they ever be like their brothers on Kamino?

Zara nodded and pointed to the left, glancing back at the cadets. "The cafeteria's through there. Are you guys...?"

There was a chorus of "yes, Commander," that made Kali smile again even as she moved to follow the Padawan. The cafeteria was not large or spacious, with a hodge-podge of tables and chairs clustered together, but it felt...right. Cozy. As the Jedi took their seats, one of the boys murmured something to Zara and she glanced at Kali.

"Master Halcyon, what would you like? They can make anything here."

"Kalinda." She lifted a brow at the clone boy who'd spoken to Zara, noting how his face reddened. "Just call me Kalinda, or Kali, please. And I'll take whatever's ready, thank you." The cadet nodded and gave her a salute before nudging the others – who'd all been staring – and they followed his lead, the lot of them scurrying off to the kitchens. Kali watched them for a moment before looking at Zara. "Do you know how long I've been asleep, by any chance?"

"Forty-nine hours, Mas – Kalinda."

Over two days? Force above and beyond...She very nearly stood and rushed out of the room – there was just too much to do – but Zara's gaze on her was earnest and a little worried. "I suppose I was more tired than I realized," Kali replied instead, leaning back in the chair and noting the creak of wood that was a strange sound to hear as she watched the receding stars out of the nearest viewport. "Have you spoken with Honi?"

"She woke up a few hours ago and wanted to go right to the infirmary to check on the others," Zara replied with a frown. "But Master Altis made her eat something first. She should be there, now. She told me to stay out of the way for the time being." There was an edge of sorrow to her voice and Kalinda studied the girl for a few moments while the boys returned with trays of food, setting one of them before her and sliding into their own seats.

I'm not sure if Honi was ready to take a Padawan, or if Zara was ready to start down that road. Perhaps I can help them figure it out, if I have the opportunity. At the very least I should talk to Honi. She gave her a smile. "It looks like you've gotten some rest, at least. I never even asked if you were injured." Guilt flooded her. This girl is under my protection. I need to make sure she's being taken care of.

Her lekku swayed as Zara shook her head. "I'm fine." She glanced at the clone cadets, who were listening to the exchange with interest.

Kalinda studied them as well and felt a flare of regret that she hadn't bothered to see that they were tended to before allowing herself to rest. "Did you guys get haircuts?"

The one who was seated beside Zara sat up and saluted her. "Yes, sir, General...er...Kalinda."

Zara grinned. "Traxis did it. He said they looked like shaggy little banthas." At this she started giggling, though the boys didn't look as amused.

Except the one beside the Nautolan girl, who gave her a wry smile before glancing at his brothers. "We did look pretty bad, guys."

"Well, you look much better now," Kali said, deciding not to say 'like regular kids,' though they were all dressed in an assortment of civilian clothes, much as she was. "You know, I've heard that there's a very well-equipped gymnasium on this ship," she added, looking at them one by one. "With a pool. I'm not sure if you've seen it." Zara's interest spiked at the mention of the pool, and the boys shook their heads. "I'd like to know for sure. Would you mind doing a bit of recon for me?" They nodded eagerly and began murmuring to one another. She glanced at Zara again. "Will you please go along and keep them out of trouble?" As she spoke she ensured that her voice held nothing but humor, and added an easy smile as well.

The Nautolan girl grinned and nodded. "I'll try." Minutes later the children had risen and all but raced out of the cafeteria; Kali watched them go and gave a deep exhale.

I'm glad they're okay, at least. I should thank Traxis for looking after them so well. She looked down at her food and realized with surprise that she'd eaten most of it.

After she'd risen and disposed of her tray, she found her way to the infirmary. Reaching out with the Force, she could tell that Stone and Crest were still unconscious, but that Milo was up and about. Additionally, she could hear Honi from outside the door that led to the section. "These men were not ready to be released from the tanks. They must be returned immediately."

A familiar, lilting accent that sounded a little tight at the moment replied. "Knight Tallis...I must reiterate that the worst of their wounds are fully healed and that scarring will be minimal. Bacta has done all it's going to do. What they need now is rest." It sounded like the Arunai Healer, albeit a bit more strained than she'd been before, and Kali grimaced to herself as she entered the infirmary.

Honi and Upala were facing one another; the former's arms were crossed and her chin was raised in that defiant posture that she got whenever someone tried to tell her that she was wrong. By contrast the Arunai woman looked tired and worn.

Both women turned to face her once Kalinda's throat cleared. "How's it going, Honi?"

"Well enough, considering the lack of concern for the well-being of those in-" Honi paused in her diatribe and gave the other Jedi a knowing look. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

Kali turned to Upala. "Thank you for all of your help. I haven't had a chance to check in with everyone as I should, but I know that you've done everything you can and for that I'm eternally grateful." She gave the other woman a bow in the Arunai fashion, which made Upala smile and duck her head.

"It's my job, Kalinda." She paused and her eyes flicked to a nearby room. "Weave and Levy are in there," she added. "The boy is...well, he's alive. But I'm not sure how he will be able to cope with everything." Her gaze was filled with sorrow and Kali took a deep breath as she continued. "I have some other patients to check on..."

"Of course. Thank you, Upala." She looked back at the red-haired Jedi as Upala slipped out of the room, clearly glad to get away from Honi, who was looking thoughtfully in the direction of Weave's room.

"Though I was forced to stay away for a time, I did notice that your clone's aptitude for dealing with cybernetics was impressive." The words were not spoken with anything besides Honi's usual bluntness, but Kali understood the red-haired woman well enough to know praise when she heard it. There was a pause before she gave Kali another look. "Your captain is – apparently – well enough to be released from the bacta. He's in there," she added, nodding to a nearby room. "Along with your other man. The younger one was on his feet soon enough. He's-"

"Milo." Kalinda made for the door, pausing outside to take a breath.

Honi followed Kali into the room. "Milo has been most...helpful as well." Kalinda raised her eyebrow and the red-haired Jedi shook her head. "The medical staff on this vessel is light at the moment. He helped move his comrades."

"Please tell me that you've been civil to him, Honi."

Her former apprentice let out a huff of air. "I've been asleep for most of the time, but I've made an effort to be...nice. As you requested."

I can only imagine what that entails. She smiled at Honi, anyway. "Thank you."

At this, Honi made a reply, but Kalinda had stopped listening once she saw Stonewall. Dressed in his off-duty tunic and pants, he was lying on something that resembled a couch more than a bed, but he looked comfortable enough. At least, his face was peaceful, despite the numerous bandages that still covered his arms and legs. She shut her eyes and reached to him through the Force: his mind was still and quiet. Restful. Her chest relaxed a fraction of an inch. Before she moved to him she looked over at Crest, who was in a true hospital bed such as one would find in the GAR. Light snoring indicated that he was asleep as well, and his face was slack.

"Kalinda." It was Milo, coming into the room carrying a pitcher of water and a tray of glasses. "They're going to be fine," he said, setting the tray down on a durasteel table beside Crest. He filled a glass of water and handed it to the red-haired Jedi, who took it absently, drained the container in one long swallow and gave it back to him with a nod. "General Tallis and Mistress Upala think so, anyway."

At the mention of the Arunai woman, Honi made a noise of exasperation but said nothing as she moved to Stone, setting her hands over his chest and closing her eyes. Kali could feel her former Padawan gathering the Force to her like one would collect a blanket spread over the ground. Milo watched her with rapt and silent attention, the empty glass still in his hand.

Kali smiled. In spite of her personality, Honi's a gifted Healer. Lucky for us. She could tell that the other Jedi was checking the clone's body for further injury or general wrong, as bacta couldn't fix everything. Several minutes later Honi nodded to herself and opened her eyes, rising to move to Crest's bedside to repeat the process. Kalinda swallowed and went to Stonewall, sitting on the edge of the couch beside him and running her hand along his face.

Stone? Stonewall?

Silence. She was dimly aware of Milo's hushed voice speaking to Honi, who made another sound of irritation as she followed the clone out the door. But this only registered in some small, shadowed corner of her brain, as most of her attention was taken up with the man before her. Kali swallowed and leaned down to kiss him, noting how his lips were soft with new-grown skin. "I love you," she said. "Stonewall, if you can hear me, I love you."

And then she heard his voice in her mind, faint and soft, like a murmur in the first moments of wakefulness after a lengthy dream. Kali'ka.

Zara was weightless.

For the first time in longer than she cared to remember she was completely immersed in water, and it felt good. The slightest motion of her bare feet allowed her to skim through the pool with a grace that she never seemed to find on land, and for the first hour she allowed herself to be taken over with the sheer delight of the swim.

Even as she arced her body through the water she was aware of the clone boys who were currently having a contest to see who could hold his breath the longest. Zara could have had them all beat but she was having too much fun to care; she could hear and smell and feel things underwater in a way that was wholly different and more sensitive than she could in staid air: her own heartbeat and those of the cadets beat a tympani in her ears; bubbles from their exhales gurgled as they rushed to the surface; their happiness added a sweet tang around her.

Presently, Zara was resting on the floor of the pool, watching their contest from a unique vantage point. Keo had won the first round, then Risky, but of course they were at it again. At first she had remained nearby, spiraling through the water as though she were a part of it, though after a while she had allowed herself to sink to the bottom, legs folded and lekku lifting above her head. When she saw them pop back up she pushed off from the tiled floor, relishing the feel of the liquid slipping over her skin. She broke the surface and met their eyes, noting the ripples of admiration and awe that reached through the Force to her. "I win."

No-Name's eyes were wide, but he nodded and shot the others a wry look. "Guess we have our work cut out for us, don't we?" He glanced back at her. "I would ask you to race, but it wouldn't be fair, Commander."

She shook her head, still delighting in the way that the water made everything better in ways that she couldn't really describe. "Maybe if I give you a head start?" Her tone was slightly challenging, the time in the pool had given her a bravado that she had not felt in a long while, since before she'd become a Padawan. At her words No-Name grinned and looked at his brothers, who nodded to one another.

"You're on."

Things have slowed down for the moment...

Please feel free to review, comment, observe and speculate! :)

A/N: I understand that many readers have a strong opinion on the subject of homosexuality, and am grateful for those of you who are keeping an open mind and continuing to read. We will see more of Traxis' personality and development, as he is a POV character, but his relationship/sexual orientation is not the main focus of this narrative, though it does have a role to play.

I've done my best to create a compelling story that feels plausible and realistic, but I understand that some readers will not be able to look past certain issues. Again, I truly appreciate those of you who are sticking with me! You guys all rock!