Thank you all for waiting; here is a nice long chapter!

Chapter 16

With Master Yoda's reluctant permission, Mace and Anakin had Ahsoka transferred to the Temple med bay later that night. By then, it was more like early morning. Anakin went to check on the clones, especially since many of them were already in the med bay themselves.

The man whose face had been scarred when the Jedi had met him earlier was awake when he entered the room. While the Temple had individualized rooms for the wounded and ill whenever possible, the clones had been placed in rows of beds along a long wall. Dozens of them were here, in varying states of wellness, since the government hospitals weren't always able to accommodate them all.

Anakin gave the clone a smile as he walked up to his bed. "Bit early to be awake in the hospital! You're a good soldier," he told him, reaching out his prosthetic hand to shake the other man's. Slowly, the clone extended his own and shook it. He did not smile in return.

"What's your name?" Anakin asked, brow furrowed.

A hard look came over the man's eyes. "Unit 877560." was the stark reply.

"You have no name," he answered slowly. "How come?"

The man scowled, but maybe it just looked like it because of the scars on his face. At any rate, he looked as if he didn't want to answer, but knew he had to because Anakin was now his General. "I—" his voice grew lower, "—have not earned one."

"Earned one?" Anakin repeated. "I didn't realize a name had to be earned." The clone didn't respond. "Is that the way all of your brothers have been named? The ones with names, anyway," he corrected.

The clone narrowed his eyebrows, although not by much since the wounds on his face were still healing, and he grimaced in some pain. "Yes, sir."

"I never realized," Anakin mused to himself. He took a breath, examining the man lying in bed before him, who was supposed to be fighting on the front lines in a day. "I don't mean to pry, but; it seems strange to me that you could earn wounds—scars, even—from the Republic and not yet even have a name?" He scratched his chin, raising a questioning eyebrow.

A strange light came into the clone's eyes. "The Republic gives us numbers. We wear them proudly."

"You sure do," he agreed, "But—if you were to get a name, who would give it to you?

The clone cleared his throat, starting to sit up some. He looked uncomfortable with the question. "—If you don't mind my saying so, General," he said cautiously, almost fearfully, "you have no need to be concerned with the private practice of—some—soldiers—we do it only as jest, entertainment; there is no question that our loyalties are as strong as ever; not to each other, just the Republic, Sir—just the Republic and the Chancellor."

"Oh, no, no, Soldier—I—that's not what I meant!" Anakin's eyes grew wide and he almost laughed nervously. "I'm just interested—I wanted to know where the names come from. They're—" he stuttered for the right word, "excellent!"

Relief was evident on the clone's marred face. He almost smiled; a swollen, clearly painful smile but an attempt at one nonetheless.

Anakin did not expect what came next.

"Then—" the nervously happy clone in front of him started, "—If you don't mind my asking, Sir, would you be willing to—maybe—give me a name?"

There was hope on his face and Anakin had to catch himself a moment later from staring agape at the soldier in his excitement. Not only had the war-scarred man warmed to him so quickly, he was giving him the honor of naming him? The Jedi had never done that before! He'd always assumed each of the clones named themselves, presumably back on Camino before they ever met in battle.

"I—would—be honored," he stammered out, awkwardly considering reaching for the man's shoulder but deciding not to and leaning on the bedpost instead. "What kind of a name—do you think you would like?"

The innocence in the man's eyes was like what Anakin had seen on all the men earlier, after he'd showed them how to compare the patterns on their hands. It was not a look he was used to seeing on any clones, and not very soldierlike, but it was certainly better than the dull, lethargic look Krell's legion had all worn most of the time.

"Maybe it sounds strange, Sir, but I've always fancied a name like the Morn people like to have; they're simple, and they mean something, like a family name."

Anakin raised an eyebrow. "A common name? Morn names are usually pretty plain. Ordinary."

"Yes," the clone agreed, "but—good names, Sir, if I may say so. Honest names."

"That is true," he acknowledged. He thought about it for a minute. "Yes, very honest names," he roused himself, "such as 'John'." Anakin gave the clone an inquisitive look. "Do you like the name 'John'?"

"'John'?" the clone repeated, through swollen lips. His eyes were far away. "Yes, I do like the name 'John'. The name—" he paused, "of a good man. An honest man. A good—soldier."

Anakin watched him as the faraway look only intensified on the clone's face, and he could only imagine what he was thinking. Maybe of some dream for the man he would have become, would have wanted to become, had he not been bred and drafted for unending service.

He felt his voice go soft. "That will be your name then," he finally interrupted the man's thoughts, with a hand on his arm. "John it is."

Suddenly the clone jerked out of his reverie and his dark eyes met Anakin's light ones. "John?" he repeated, a smile suddenly lighting up his damaged face in spite of all injuries. The Jedi could've said he saw tears in his eyes, though whether they were from pain or from elation he couldn't really tell—maybe from both. But he looked so happy, Anakin nearly choked as the clone gripped his arm in handshake. "My name is John," he said, with raw amazement. "Thank you!" he suddenly exclaimed, pumping Anakin's arm. "My name is John!"

Anakin laughed with almost as much excitement as the other man. "Congratulations!" he told him, a bit overcome.

They were both still for a moment, just smiling and laughing at each other. Finally Anakin breathed and patted the side of the soldier's arm. "Well, John," he grinned, "Get well. I expect to see you for training this afternoon, God permitting."

"Yes, Sir!" he didn't stop grinning back, and as Anakin left the curtained area where his bed was cornered, he could still feel John's smiles at his back, a good Force-presence he hadn't felt in far too long.

Still smiling himself, he went straight to the next bed, determined to check on the progress of each one of his injured troops and hopefully Ahsoka before they hit 0800 hours.

They were already running short on time.

Not all the experiences Anakin had that morning were as uplifting as the one with John. And he found some of the older, more hardened clones already had names, too.

There was Adee. If possible, his bulky frame was one of the largest Anakin had ever seen a clone possess. He had broken his back and the medical droids, along with a Jedi medical doctor, were preparing to set it, so he was in incredible pain. Whether for that reason or because it was his normal disposition, Adee was downright mean. Wild animal mean; vicious.

Anakin tried calming him down with the Force as the doctor suggested when he entered the preparation room, but Adee lashed out angrily. "Why are you here?!"

Anakin drew back without thinking. The huge, writhing man was an imposing sight. Then he shook his head, stepping forward again, more cautiously this time. "I'm your General, Adee. I'm just here to help…"

Like the others, Adee didn't dare argue further than that; he was too smart and too afraid of Krell. Anakin could see, however, that the clone would have liked to punch his new General in the face to get him out of the room and vent his anger toward the Jedi and the Republic army.

Vainly the droids tried to hold him down on the bed and Anakin went to help them again, reaching out with the Force into the clone's mind but having difficulty getting Adee to calm. The Jedi sucked in a breath as he concentrated. Adee mentally pushed right back, rebelling against his attempts. Weak as he was now, Anakin felt the strength drain from him within seconds before he gave up, reeling back away from the bedside afraid he'd made the situation only worse.

Shaking his head, he stumbled out of the room and gave the doctor an apologetic glance before moving on to the next soldier.

Most of his men were currently in their barracks, still resting up. Anakin figured they were probably all awake by now, so he stopped in.

"All right, men," he addressed them all, as several hundred soldiers ran quickly to salute, "if you're all rested up, we'll go ahead and run some basic drills to make sure we're all still in practice. At ease, go ahead and get your armor on and your blasters ready. I managed to get us some new equipment, so let me know if anything's damaged."

Several of them immediately came up to him, while the others scrambled around behind to strap on their armor. "Sir," the first said, saluting again, "request for a new blaster. Mine is damaged beyond repair."

"Right, yeah," Anakin fumbled around his tunic for the holopad he knew he'd put in his pocket somewhere! He finally pulled out the glasslike disk and typed the soldier's request on the holographic keyboard. "One new 5-H blaster. Anything else?"

The man suddenly looked nervous. "Well—yes, Sir—if you don't mind my asking— is there any report on 878244's condition yet?"

Anakin tried not to have a blank face. "Ah…does he have a name?"

The clone's eyes dropped to the floor. "No, Sir."

"I might remember him. What was his condition?"

"Severe blood loss and infection, Sir, as well as an abdominal injury."

Anakin saw there was a deep concern—perhaps a brotherly affection—in the clone's eyes when he described s friend's condition. His eyebrows knit together as he tried to remember which of the injured clones he'd visited so far that morning. "I think he's next for me to visit," he replied to the worried man. "I'll let you know as soon as I can. Is he a good fighter?"

Pride came into the other man's face. "Every bit of him, Sir! It would be a shame if—" he stopped shortly, and several of the clones behind him nodded their agreement with his statement. They looked worried, too.

A feeling of dread sank into Anakin's stomach. That couldn't be a good sign. Whoever this 87—whatever his number was—he was apparently a valuable member of the battalion.

And the report wasn't good. 878244 was, sure enough, in something of a life-threatening condition when Anakin finally checked in on him.

Opening the curtain to scan over the patient, he saw a very pale clone, strapped to the bed loosely so as to prevent his falling off as he thrashed around, moaning in his delirium. He was soaked through with sweat, and, worst of all to Anakin, looked like he wouldn't be waking up for a very long time.

"How long has he been like this?" he grimly asked the doctor, without taking his eyes off the wounded man.

"Within an hour or two after he was brought in," explained the Jedi Master, hoarsing the answer through his piglike snout. His large, black eyes gave Anakin a solid warning. "You'll need him, though. At least seven of the troops have been in here, unauthorized, sneaking in just to check on him. I've never seen such loyalty in clone troopers before, Skywalker. I dread to think what would happen to your mission if this man died."

Anakin nodded through his narrowed eyes, knowing the soldier's recovery was beyond his control. Strange, that he was so well-loved and looked up to, and yet didn't have a name yet…the whole naming system was starting to really get him confused.

He shook his head, starting to walk away.

He had one more visit to make. Tenderly he curled his hand around her slender, orange one, hoping maybe she would wake up now that he was here.

"She has been sedated to prevent complications," the droid explained to him in his metallic voice.

Anakin nodded his understanding. "But she will be all right?"

"Of course," the droid replied. "Within a day or two she could be taken home, if necessary."

He turned the thought over in his head. Padmé was too busy to care for Ahsoka right now, but at some point, he really should have her moved out of the Temple. She was still a wanted criminal, even if her pursuers thought she was already dead.

"Master?" came a soft, whimpering voice below him.

Anakin started and looked down as her clear, blue eyes rolled open slightly to look at him.
"Hi, little one," Anakin smiled, as the droid expressed his surprise that she had woken. "You gave me quite the scare back there."

Her eyes widened in concern and a look of panic arose on her face as she looked around the room.

"What is it? Ahsoka, what's wrong?"

"Derolf! I can't—I can't let his father find him!"

"What?" he grew more concerned. "Assie, who is his father?"

Ahsoka's face grew pale and blanched and suddenly she fell back against the pillow again, passed out.

Worriedly, Anakin stroked her forehead with his thumb.

So there was a story behind the kid. He had to warn Padmé—they could all be in danger, and from a man he didn't even know the name of.

Replies to Reviewers:

.5851: Yes, indeedy! Actually, I think a part of her does know. Remember how sassy she was when they first met? (: haha I miss watching that movie!

scottusa1: Sorry 'bout that, was probably pretty mean but I couldn't resist the chance to pull off such a huge cliffhanger!

MasterAssassinScrolls: Aww, thank you (: So the story behind two chapters at once? I can't do it normally, either. I thought I had already published chapter 14 several days before, and I was so worried because I wasn't getting any reviews, and I thought everyone had stopped reading because they thought Ahsoka was dead, then I go to publish 15 and 14 wasn't up! So I got to put up both of them at once. Haha. Glad you enjoyed.

ErinKenobi2893: Yep, she's good! Sort of /: I really didn't realize this story was going to be so long when I started it!