Vode An arc

A Cold Cave on a Cold World

Chopper fiddled with his helmet but his efforts went unrewarded.

"There's nothing, commander." He had already flicked on his helmet lights after a check of the small cave with IR/UV and motion detector. The passives worked; but water had shorted everything else including the internal communications links. The lights flickered and died, leaving only a dim glow from the lluminescence backup. As his helmet dried it would self-repair, but for now it was almost useless except for the lume. The air was laden with mist from the waterfall.

The cave they had both slipped into was little more than an alcove cut out of the stone by river water, smooth with curved walls in shades of red and cream. The water, augmented by the heavy rain, roared through the long, narrow opening above them. Chopper sat down on a rounded boulder and set the deece on the sand beside him. He had pulled the cartridges from his blaster trying to shake out the water.

From the safety of his helmet, he could look at her.

His commander sighed as she sat on the boulder, her elbows on her knees, light saber in hand, head hanging and on the verge of tears. The battle fever that had gripped her had been washed away by freezing water and she was exhausted from trying to stay afloat, trying to make it to shore, trying to battle the water that had ripped them away from the others. She was hardly more than a child and Chopper frowned. What were the Jedi thinking to send a youngling into battle?

There had been no shore in the deep canyon; the rains had pushed the water level much higher than whatever was normal. Wearily she clipped the light saber onto her belt and huddled, drawing her legs up, curling her arms around her legs and laying her cheek on one knee. She was almost small enough to tuck into his belt pouch and her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. What the kriff had the Jedi been thinking?

Chopper didn't know what to say to her. He wanted to tell her everything would be all right. He growled at himself deep in his throat. She was a woman – a girl actually – and Chopper avoided females more than he avoided battle droids. Moreover, she was his commander. He would follow her orders and answer her questions. He had done so in the past and found her a good commander. She had saved him from going back to Kamino and she cared for him as much as any trooper of the 501st. He respected her. Even in that freezing water, she'd used the Force to keep them both afloat while he had held them together. She was his commander and it wasn't his place to reassure her.

Trust had been broken with Chopper and he didn't allow himself friends. Not really. Not quite. It was better to trust to yourself, trust in your skills, trust in your knowledge. He paused a moment in his thoughts; Ash had called him, called them all 'friends' but she was a civilian and never to be seen again. He was going to offer friendship to Fives and to Echo, both good men, but he hadn't yet. In the back of his mind Slick chuckled. Commander Tano might not be a friend but he didn't have to pretend she would be like the woman on Christophsis.

He saw moisture on her cheek, more than the mist of the cave, and knew the commander cried soft tears for the dead. He knew there were dead, even as he'd been sliding down the hill, he'd head the clicks of troopers dying in his helmet. But he knew there were living as well, warned by her voice and pushed back by the Force push, more survived than had died. Chopper counted the living men to her account.

The cliff-face of the trail had sheered off in the heavy rain and her Jedi senses had caught it first. With a yell, she had ordered them back and - trusting her - the entire column had turned back, quick pace, the way they'd come. Commander Tano had urged them faster and they'd moved into a run before the quaking ground give them evidence. Then she had paused to use a Force push, her face pale with fear that she moved too late, too slow.

"Kriff, commander," Chopper had muttered in his helmet as he grabbed her arm to propel her forward, knowing it was only the habit of concentration that caused her to stop; the generals moved and pushed at the same time. Before he could think any further the world had fallen from under his feet. He'd thought about letting her go, thinking maybe as a Jedi she could make it and he could try to catch something with his belaying line. Even as he thought it, he knew they were too far and then he tried to grab her to shield her unarmored body with the protective plates of his armor as they slide into the river. Fek, he should have known all that water had to go somewhere.

Ahsoka rubbed her nose against her knee as she sat curled around herself on the boulder. She had felt it first; the entire cliff face trembled, and she had called out to her troops even while leaping back, Force-pushing men back. They had followed the unexpected order and turned. She had leapt, Jedi quick and Jedi far, but not quick enough. She landed, but she landed on quivering ground as soft as rotted fruit, slipping away from her as she tried to push her men away from the danger. Chopper had grabbed her hand and pulled her back almost ten meters before the entire ledge gave way and became an avalanche of red mud sliding toward the river. She wasn't sure who had been grabbing who as the river carried them away from the main forces, though it quickly became evident that Chopper didn't swim; at least not in his armor. She had used the Force to keep them afloat for so many miles, making sure they weren't smashed against the canyon walls or against enormous boulders in the rapids. He had relaxed then, knowing he could do nothing, holding her close to him, letting his armor take the blows from underwater debris; floating branches ripped from the native trees and rocks hidden by the white rapids.

The river had pushed them violently to a long, narrow cleft that was the opening to an underground cavern. Their bodies, mostly Chopper's in his armor, had plugged the opening, the water pushing, swirling around them. It was raging over her face, blinding her, deafening her with its thunder, tearing at her, grabbing at her light saber, pushing water into her nose, her mouth. Chopper bent his helmeted head over her face, shielding her from the pounding of the rapids with his body, giving her a momentary respite. Then Chopper had somehow gotten one leg braced against something, enough to push, enough to give them both just enough space for Chopper to move his arms, to push her into the opening. He held her by one arm hanging beneath him. She looked up in time to see Chopper's foot slip and he was slammed into the opening with a sharp cry she heard more with the Force than with her ears deafened by the waters' roar. His armor wedged into the crack; a cork allowing water to build up around him held by the circumference of his chest. Ahsoka could feel him start to drown; the water, swirling around him and partially held back by his body, rising into his helmet, the seals breached or damaged. Still he held her, dangling in the blackness, his fingers growing tighter, clenching around hers as he felt the water invade his helmet.

There was a crack then, like a crack of thunder, and she felt some of his ribs break. But he wriggled and slipped through the opening, trying to pull her body close to his, trying to cushion the unknown fall with his armor.

As the water pushed them into the cave, almost drowning them, it was Chopper's strength which had pushed them onto the sand in the darkness; his height tall enough to stand though the current ripped away his stability. Trust Chopper to keep hold of the blaster as well.

She tried to reach out with the Force. Far away she could feel the torches that were Skywalker, Kenobi; the lesser flickering flames that were the men of the 501st. Too far away to do anything more than to know they were alive and fighting. She reached out to her men; the ones caught in the mud. Some lived. Not all, but most.

They sat in silence. Ahsoka knew Chopper didn't like her. It wasn't personal; having more to do with his past, with injuries inflicted on his heart as well as his skin, so she didn't try to carry on conversation with him. There wasn't much to say, anyway. The weather was not up for discussion. Absently, she rubbed her hands.

She shivered and realized that it was freezing in the cave. She was freezing. She glanced down at her fingers to see them pale and wrinkled and waxy as the blood in her system withdrew from her extremities into her core. She meditated, bringing the blood back to her fingers. It would keep her warm for a while, but sooner or later her mind would slow and she would drift into death. She had heard that dying of cold wasn't painful, more like falling asleep. She thought of Chopper, maybe she could help him somehow.

"Chopper, how are you doing?"

"Fine, sir," came the replied.

She laughed softly. "There's no need to lie to me, trooper. It's freezing in here.

"Turn up your suit." He replied.

She turned to face him, stupefied. "What?"

"Your suit, your thermals," He clarified to her bewilderment. "Turn it up."

"I'm sorry, Chopper. Maybe the cold has affected my head but I thought you said to turn up my suit?"

He stood and came over to her. She couldn't tell all his emotions, but irritation was high on the list along with pain from his ribs. He was one of the clones difficult to reliably read without looking into his eyes. He avoided that, with everyone, even his brothers and Ahsoka had never pried, never pushed. But his irritation was plain even through his helmet.

Kneeling on one knee at her side, Chopper took her left wrist in his hand and turned back her sleeve. Irritation turned to surprise. He grabbed her right hand and, again, turned back the sleeve.

"What the…" He pulled off his gloves and took her hands in his. His were warm, rough, knobby, calloused and strong with blunt, square-tipped fingers. Her frozen hands reached for that warmth. She felt embarrassed as her fingers grabbed desperately for his, but he let her have them, cupping her fingers in his big, warm hands. As much as he wanted to, he didn't pull away and for that, Ahsoka was grateful.

He felt the wet material covering her. He stood, holding one arm and hand to his side, and she could hear mumbled curses beneath his helmet. "You're not wearing a warmsuit." He said accusingly.

"This is the warmest I have." She stuttered with the cold. Chopper leaned his head back and continued the curses. He seemed to have an extensive repertoire. Going from what she knew was Mando'a to Huttese and another language, she had no idea which, with the fluency of much practice and not repeating himself.

"You are the commander, you should have a warmsuit." He ran his hand over the top of his helmet to the back of his neck. "When we get back to the ship I am going down to supply and strangle someone. After I get you a warmsuit." There was almost no emotion in his words; it was simply a statement of fact. She appreciated the 'when' rather than 'if'.

He knelt again on one knee and gently held her fingers in his warm hands. She noticed his hands were scarred. She had never noticed that before and realized that he always wore his gloves. Even in the mess, eating.

"Oh," she said, suddenly enlightened.

In the Force she could feel his prickly irritation, red anger, and something much warmer, far more hidden.

As her fingers returned to normal, he slipped his gloves over her hands. The warmth was glorious. He took off his helmet, inspecting her, touching her skin, touching her cheek with those warm fingers. She could feel him thinking but couldn't quite catch his thoughts or his eyes. His usual stoic expression seemed more worried.

He had the shadow stubble on his face common to his brothers, but his was uneven. Hair didn't grow in the skin of his scars which were turned away from her. The scars were probably as much a reason as efficiency for keeping his head shaved. He glanced into her face with one honey-brown and one green-yellow eye then he looked down at the cavern floor again.

"Are you falling asleep?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You need to remove your clothes. They're wet. You'll go into hypothermia." She felt a spike of fear in the Force as he touched her trembling, numb fingers. "You can't, can you?"

She shook her head, shivering. There were more mumbled curses, but he was starting to repeat.

"S'shto." Her voice was calm and she suddenly smiled at him. She could trust Chopper. He would take care of her; the emotion that was neither irritation nor anger told her so.

"What?" He sounded aggrieved and Ahsoka almost laughed. He would do his best; he always did his best.

"S'shto. It goes with the other words. Togrutan. But I'm too young to know what it means."

"S'shto." He said then nodded as he muttered a string of curses adding in his new word. "It'll do." He swallowed, took a deep breath and started doing what had to be done.

His fingers trembled almost as much as her body as he removed her clothing, squeezing the water out as much as possible. He was gentle but quick and she was naked, curled as small as possible to conserve body heat.

He unfastened his fore and aft, the breast- and back-plate of his armor. The fore piece had a large crack from top to bottom and she knew what had made the thunder and what had broken some ribs.

"No," she commanded. "You are not going to give me your clothes."

"It is a thought, commander, but I am not planning on give you my shirt or pants. Yet." Once again he was looking away from her, the good side of his face toward her in profile. Habit, she realized, habit to turn his scars away from her.

She must have been affected by the cold for her next words. "Because you have scars there, too?" She asked mildly.

He froze in the act of removing the armor from his arms. She could see his fingers tremble, could see his entire body tremble. An expression she had never seen on any human crossed his face even as a stab of pain jumped into the Force. But his only action was an equally mild reply. "Yes." He ducked his head in shame. "You'd discover them anyway." She wasn't sure if she'd been meant to hear that or not.

Removing the last of the armor from his body, Chopper set it in a semi-circle around where he'd been sitting, leaning against the back wall of the cave. He came to where she was sitting, her hands colder now even though they were in his gloves, her entire body shaking from the cold. He nodded at her hands.

"The suit works as a unit so I will need the gloves back." He bent and, "meaning no disrespect, commander", picked her up, giving a small grunt and a grimace at the sharp pain of his ribs.

She gave a small moan as her body touched the warmth of his shirt and she pressed her face into his chest. It was glorious.

"I do have an idea to keep us warm." Chopper carried her to the wall of the cave where he'd been sitting.

"If it involves intimate contact between me and this shirt, consider it an order." Her voice was muffled and her shivering hands slipped under the shirt.

"Yes sir." The barest smile touched the corners of his lips as she pressed her freezing fingers between the shirt and his abdomen. He knew her fingers were numb. She couldn't feel them yet. His body must feel comparatively hot.

He sat down with his back against the back plate of his armor against the cavern wall and her in his lap. She was curled up as much as possible to conserve body heat. She had been so small sitting on that rock with her arms around her knees; that he had wished he could put her in his pocket until they were found and that had given him the idea. He pulled the shirt up from being tucked into the pants.

"Climb in," he said as he stretched the shirt out from his chest and pulled it over her head, gently moving her lekku to one side. Then he tried to tuck the hem back so the heating connectors attached. They did, just barely and Chopper mentally breathed in relief. He hadn't been sure she would fit. She wriggled into the shirt, next to his chest and was warm. He felt like he'd just shoved a block of ice against his skin and dialed up the heat.

The commander closed her eyes and made a soft sound in her throat at the inviting warmth. She laid her head against Chopper's chest and he hesitantly curled his arms around her. In a moment, her breathing was even and she was asleep. Chopper checked her body temperature with his cheek against her forehead then nodded to himself. She was cold but, in spite of falling asleep so quickly, not hypothermic.

She slept the normal sleep of exhaustion, and Chopper trembled in fear to be holding someone so close, so warm. This was closer than he'd ever been to anyone except Echo, closer than he'd ever dreamed. This was more than his fantasies. He could feel her heart beat against his chest and his own heart raced.

He was tempted to kiss her, her face so close to his looking so young and defenseless tucked under his chin. Instead he simply put his cheek against her lekku, feeling the warmth of her montrals. After a while, he did venture a kiss on her forehead, more a promise than anything else, and putting his cheek back to her lekku, he drifted into a light sleep.

Chopper woke instantly; alert, silent, and aware of his surroundings. The commander woke slowly; leisurely, softly stretching her shoulders, her back, mumbling in her comfort.

Chopper could feel her hands, palms pressed against his chest, touching his scars in half-sleep, curious in the half-awareness of waking. He trembled as she inspected his rough skin with her fingers, tracing the deeper scars with a fingertip.

She wouldn't say anything, surely? She was his general's second in command. She was the commander and an officer and a Jedi; surely she wouldn't mock him.

"I'm so sorry, Chopper." Her voice was a whisper. She shifted slightly and then. "Is it my imagination or has it gotten cooler?"

"Cooler, commander." He retreated into fact. "After your body temperature normalized, I turned the suit down to conserve battery power. Stretching also spreads the distance between the heating elements." He paused. "I can turn it up if you wish."

"It's still nicely warm. You are nicely warm." She purred deep in her throat and pressed her cheek to his chest, her fingers no longer exploring but simply resting against his chest.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the stone. She hadn't jerked away in disgust, hadn't laughed in derision, hadn't shrieked, or done anything else he feared. She had put her cheek back to his scarred chest and purred!

"How long has it been since," she gave a small laugh after a short while, "since I crawled into your shirt."

Ahsoka wondered if Chopper ever laughed. She had never even seen him smile. It sobered her to think that she had never heard him laugh before either.

"About eight hours, sir."

"That explains it. I need to ah," she faltered and he dropped his head between the top of her lekku with a stifled sound that rippled down his chest and through her montrals simultaneously. She thought that small grunt was amusement.

"I need to ah also." He admitted and turned to the helmet at his side. Without light, the lumes were dimming. It took several tries for the powered lights to come on and only when he smacked it against the cave wall did they stay on, if dimly flickering. "Waterlogged." He muttered and shook his head. "When it's dry the comm unit will work, but not before then." He glanced up at the hole in the ceiling they'd come through. There was still a waterfall but not the torrential rain of earlier. "When day comes, we might get some light coming through the water."

Turning his head away for her privacy, he pulled off his shirt and held it for her to take. Though she didn't look, she still saw the scars on his back. They gave each other as much privacy as possible in the small confines of the cave and when she came back, he had pulled out his canteen of water and a ration bar, setting them on a flat boulder near where they were sitting. He didn't look directly at her but couldn't stop glancing at her from the corners of his eyes. Even in the dimness, she saw the scars on his chest.

They ate the bar slowly, chewing it well, then drank the water. When done he held out his hand for the shirt and pulled it on. Ahsoka once against crawled next to Chopper's skin. She pressed her head against his heart and he pulled the shirt over her as best he could; covering every part of her. In moments the heating elements warmed them. She could feel his scars with her hands, with her cheek.

"Chopper," she asked softly, "How did you get so many terrible scars?" She paused then continued. "If…if you want to tell me. I remember this," she reached up softly and gestured to the crooked star-shaped scar of his head, "is from Geonosis and the shrapnel that tore a hole into your chest. But you have more than you told me for the court-martial."

He sighed.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," she assured him. "It's not morbid curiosity, it's curiosity because you're…" She didn't say what she meant to say. Because you're my friend. "Because you're one of my men. Because I want to know about Chopper."

For a moment he was silent, she'd given him the choice. It was odd to think that she wanted to know, to understand. He realized that she considered all the men of the 501st her men; not just those in her column. She often had him as her second when Rex was working with the general. Might as well ask Rex if he could transfer to her column.

His voice came, low and quiet as he told her the history of his scars. "The scar on the side of my head; it runs down my face and neck, over my shoulders" he gave a gesture. "As I said, that was from Geonosis - the first battle. I took a blaster shot to the head and then, I'm told, someone lobbed a grenade into the area. I don't remember. I went to Kamino for that." She felt him shudder. "The deep scars you feel with your fingers, the ones on my chest that aren't from the shrapnel, and the rough skin," he paused, glanced away, then looked at her and gave her what she didn't know. "They run all the way down my legs. They're from a gunship crash. They're part fire, part shrapnel and hot metal. The four deep scars are where a crossbeam from the bubble turret slammed into me. That wasn't a battle with a name but it was another trip to Kamino. I have scars on my back and down the back of my left leg from when an AAT took out one of our AV-7's. Flipped it on top of me. That happened on Christophsis not long before I joined the 501st. Cumulative, four weeks in bacta tanks."

"The ones on your hands?" she prompted.

"Honorable scars. I was dragging men out of a crashed gunship." He moved his hands in front of him, curling the fingers, making a fist. "Honorable scars," he repeated absently, as if the other marks on his body were dishonorable. Ahsoka slipped the shirt up for a moment and reached for his hands with her fingers to give them a gentle squeeze before retreating back into the warmth.

"Is that why you don't strip down to the waist like everyone else in the gym?" Her head was tilted back, her face looking at him.

He kept his eyes turned away, the scarred side of his head turned away. She was too young for war, too young to see scars, too young to understand how he'd gotten them, too young... Kriff, she should be doing ... kid things, civilian kid things. Chopper looked down into her face, letting her see his face full-on, suddenly understanding that she would have her own scars from this war.

"Yes. The face is stared at enough. Mostly by rookies and men who think scars mean you're too slow on the battlefield."

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Chopper shrugged slightly and bent his head. Did she know how good she smelled? Like flavoring spice and flowers. Like tea from the nightmare turned dream turned sleep. "Of course, they're all trying to impress you. A few of them even use oil so they're nice and sleek."

She laughed. "I never really noticed."

For some reason, that pleased him and he continued. "Captain Rex sometimes lets me use the shower in his office. Like when the entire company is using the showers after battle. I appreciate it and he knows that." Then Chopper was quiet. "I do my best for the captain."

"For me as well, Chopper, and the general. You always do your best." She swallowed. Would he take a compliment? "And your best is so very good. Rex considers you one of his most trustworthy and competent men. He's already written up a promotion nomination for when you're eligible for sergeant."

Chopper leaned back, turning his face away for her, but saying nothing. Ahsoka was quiet, letting him think, hoping she hadn't said something wrong. After a moment, he turned back and glanced down to her. "Remember on Naboo? The general called me one of his best men but I didn't really know; didn't dare to think it might be true." He glanced at her from the corners of his eyes. "Fives said you preferred me as your second after Rex."

He saw her nod. "Yes, Chopper. I don't have to explain to you and when I need something explained to me, you make it simple for me to understand but not so simply I feel like a child." The commander frowned, "you explain as if I don't know it but not as if I couldn't understand it."

She leaned against his chest again and his arms came around her.

"Why didn't the bacta tanks remove the scars? They're supposed to do that, aren't they?" She asked.

"There's a time factor involved. The faster you're put into bacta, the less scarring." He shook his head softly. "I was injured in the early part of Geonosis, one of the first ships downed. The whole squad was dead and wasn't even reported missing until the end of battle. Now the scars are template for future healing."

Ahsoka leaned against his chest again and was silent for a while. She shifted to relieve cramped muscles and he gasped as his head shot up.

"Chopper, are you Ok?" What happened?"

"Nothing, sir." His voice was harsh, as though the past hours hadn't occurred.

"The truth, please," she asked softly. His eyes flickered over her face and he gave a small nod.

"When you moved, I" …he paused, trying to figure the best way to say it, "…I was sexually stimulated."

"Oh." She blushed then repeated. "Ohm." She bit her lower lip. "I'm sorry."

He tried to put her at ease, she was just a kid. "It had to happen. I've never been this close to anyone. We're skin to skin," he shrugged, "you're sitting in my lap and you're like ... sunlight." He swallowed and leaned his head back for fresh air.

Kriffing mirosik! What had he just said?

"It doesn't really mean anything," he continued. "We're just doing this to keep warm."

He was lying. She could feel it, this meant something to him. He wasn't hiding, wasn't trying to keep himself hidden as usual. Yes, it was to keep warm, but his soul ... flowered ... at being able to keep her warm; at holding her. Ahsoka caught it ... at keeping her safe, at making sure she'd be all right, at being a good trooper, at protecting her. At being a hero.

She touched his lips with her fingers, and his breathing quickened. Her fingers moved to his cheeks and he shut his eyes. She placed her palm on his face and he bowed his face to her touch, opened his eyes to see her own full of tears. He laid himself bare before her, giving her everything he had in him.

"I'm sorry, commander." His voice was a rumbled whisper.

With that touch she felt all the desolation in his soul. She felt his innermost self; what he had been and had wanted to be, and what he had become. She knew he hated himself for his perceived weaknesses and she understood why. She saw what the traitor had done to him. She knew he never expected to have friends or feel anyone's touch. She knew what he meant to say.

I'm sorry, commander. I'm not good enough.

Yet, she touched him. She accepted him.

We are friends, Chopper, she said silently.

He nodded with a single dip of his face, not realizing she'd said nothing, a thoughtful look on his face. His mind turned to others and, tentatively, he identified people who had offered the possibility of friendship. Jester who hadn't let him crawl into isolation after Slick. Coric who had taught him to play cards. Fives and Echo who asked his help with their armor. Caber? Knapps? Civilian Ashwaeen. He'd promised he would offer Fives and Echo friendship. He would do that when he returned to the Resolute.

Tears escaped Ahsoka's eyes and ran onto his chest. Her hand dropped to brush them away. Her fingers found no skin untouched by scars.

"Commander, you can't cry for me." He said in a low voice. "I'm sure that's against regulations." He gave her a tiny smile, "we can check with Echo as soon as..." He gestured at his helmet.

She relaxed against him, her body curled into his surrounding arms, her face looking up into his, her blue eyes to his mismatched brown and yellow-green. "Friends is what we are, Chopper. And I can cry for my friend's pain."

Chopper smiled shyly and it curled into the scar. "Friends is enough. More than I ever had before, more than I had ever hoped." He bent his head again, his breathe warm on her face and he softly kissed her forehead. "Commander," he murmured and she knew it for the odd endearment it was, the only thing he would ever call her.

"I'll take care of you. Everything will be all right."

Before they got cold, he had her put her mostly dry clothes on then he pulled her into his shirt again. Occasionally he bent his head to nuzzle her lekku or her face as she looked up at him, her hand on his face or curled around his neck; not sexually but simply for the feel of skin against skin, of skin against scars. He could count on his hands the number of times he'd been touched since leaving Kamino. Jester had volunteered to wash his back and Echo had held him in a nightmare.

After several more hours, the warmsuit battery died and they became cold. He kept her marginally warmer in his arms, against his chest with his legs pulled up and his face over hers. "Thank you," he said softly.

When Chopper's helmet comm activated, he was unconscious. It took her frozen fingers several tries to respond to Rex's voice calling for Chopper, but she spoke. "Hurry, Rex, we are dying." She was unconscious by the time they found her and Chopper.

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