Good day all,

All will begin to make sense shortly. My friend 0x15, that's the exact reaction I was expecting! I assure you, there is a very good reason for the way that the events fall and it will all fall into place shortly. The burning may have started, but it is far from over yet.

Happy Writing,

Eliana

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Eddy couldn't understand – couldn't bring himself to wrap his mind around why, when the call came from the top of the camp wall that the group was returning that it was only himself and Tocarra who moved.

Donny he could empathize with, the poor guy was hardly able to hobble with a cane and was currently busy with a wailing youngling, but the lack of motion from clones and Jedi alike made his stomach drop out of his body. Kix and himself had frantically run into the medical tent the second that the group had run off, making ready everything they could to stabilize the man that was probably in agony.

When they had both come back out, Kix had gone quiet. All the clones had, and when the call sounded from the wall Eddy had expected an eruption of motion. It was still. Startlingly still. He and Tocarra took a long look at each other… and though there were no words between them, both came to the same conclusion.

No.

That couldn't be.

That wasn't possible.

But there were no alarms. No running of troops to quickly guide in the wounded. Skywalker and Ahsoka were standing together, both with their arms lightly clasped behind their backs, and their heads bowed toward the gate where the tiny shadows of figures were slowly appearing in the setting sunlight.

"Why is no one moving?" the doctor finally prompted, trying to stir some kind of motion. Maybe they were all in shock, he had to wonder.

"Be at ease, Ed."

It was Skywalker who spoke to him, but the human didn't bother to open his eyes or even turn to look at him.

It wasn't possible.

"At ease?!" he heard himself press, whatever argument he was ready to pose fizzling out immediately when Ahsoka opened her own eyes and looked to him.

That look… he knew that look. He had seen it more times than he ever wanted to count on the faces of parents and caregivers when Tocarra or himself had to make a call they would later grieve to each other in the safety of one of their homes.

No.

As quickly as it flashed across Ahsoka's face it was gone, pushed into the Force as quickly as she was able while quietly repeating:

"At ease."

He didn't answer her as she turned away from him again and bowed her head. He felt his breath leave his lungs when the order came from Rex, the one that echoed around them… a call to attention that all the clones reacted to. Every one of them had turned to face the group that came slowly wandering through the gate, a procession of honor and loss that he wasn't ready for.

He wasn't ready to see his young friend, left arm hastily covered in field dressings that were barely able to contain the blood flow that fought against them, a slight limp in his walk and a wheezing when he breathed, eyes unfocused yet irises darting, leading the silent men into the camp.

He wasn't ready to see Sam and Bones just following behind Djibourdi with no words being spoken between them.

He wasn't ready to see those clones he had been curious about, those Reapers, suddenly withdrawn and mournful.

He wasn't ready to register the fact that six of them, three on each side of that constructed stretcher, so delicately carried his friend.

Whether he was ready or not it was all there. His breath hitched when he turned to take in the eyes of both of his old friends before all three of them finally understood. They bowed their heads to the passing group, saddened eyes watching the procession move to the building that Djibourdi and Tombur had shared. Djibourdi made his way in before Sam did.

Eddy watched as those clones carefully, oh so carefully that he wondered how they even did it, lay their general on the ground… And then Djibourdi, drawn in his energy and his care, found one of the heavy support beams. As the clones minus Sam retreated the rest were only able to catch glimpse of the padawan's press of his back against the beam before he slid down it, back to them, limply letting his weight fall to the ground.

That door shut with an echoing click. Everything seemed to stand still. It was finally Skywalker who called the men to return to their posts, not bothering to redirect the Reapers who had moved themselves to guard the building that held their commander.

Anakin had to separate himself. He found solace in the tent where, only a day before, he had stood with his allies mulling over what to do – and now, a rotation separating those events, he was at a loss. Obi-Wan was a bit of a ghost in the back of his mind, his master's worn and fatigued state not stopping him from picking up on the echoes that had gone screaming through the Force not long ago.

They had all felt it, and he had to say that he was quite proud at how Ahsoka had responded. Now, behind closed doors, he could only flop his weight onto a supply create, draw in a steadying breath, and plant his aching hand in his palm. Obi-Wan was relieved, relieved that he could feel Ahsoka and Anakin well. Skywalker didn't know how he was supposed to tell him that the relief was ill-advised.

Once stolen glance let him take in the timer that continued to count down where it sat on the holomap table. That countdown was the last thing that Tombur had done for them, but he knew his friend had been tirelessly mapping out events since then… not that it would do Anakin any good now, he told himself with a burst of aggravation.

This was a contingency that they couldn't have foreseen. The Chargers were unlike most other legions in Grand Army of the Republic, and for good reason. Their entire existence was one of strangled silence and half-truths not only because of their purpose, but because of how the legions operated.

As a generalized observation, it was a rare occurrence to have survivors from the opposite side alive long enough to tell of the fights, and those that witnessed them were often regarded as suffering shellshock. They operated in the deepest pits of Republic territory, away from prying eyes yet in the middle of operations desperately needed to protect the integrity of the Republic.

With that kind of operation came a failsafe, and that exact reason was why his head throbbed again. There were two groups that could command the movement of those two legions – their assigned Jedi Generals or a member of the Jedi Council. No more, no less. Now, their best laid plans that sat held within the holomap in front of him could very well be scrapped.

They weren't going to be able to contact anyone from the Council, and Anakin felt himself doubting that those clones would err on the side of pleasantries if he would attempt to convince them that he could pull some voodoo-magic-trick to speak what his master was telling him through the Force.

That left Djibourdi. He was the final failsafe, the blurred line of contingency, but he was no guarantee. Even IF Anakin could get the kid functioning enough to go to where the legions were (yet another clever tactic on Tombur's side was the fact that no one other than his men and his padawan knew the location), realistically the only thing the Togruta would be able to do it bargain with them. He didn't hold the authority to order them anywhere, they would have to go willingly.

They weren't guaranteed to follow. So now, whether Skywalker wanted to acknowledge it or not, they were stuck in a stalemate. He could either call the entire operation off and drag Djibourdi with them knowing that the Palisades were inevitably going to crash onto the locked coordinates, hopefully halting their enemies and buying them enough time to move the civilians to safety… or, he could order the padawan to where the legions were hidden to try and get them to move.

He wished his friend was here.

Anakin, in all of his efforts and all of his determination to remain detached, couldn't bring himself to admit that the Echani was gone. The most innocent part of himself was still waiting for Tombur to pop out of one of the large supply crates or walk around a corner while laughing at the forlorn look on his face, or for the white-haired man to come over to squeeze his shoulder and offer a bit of wisdom once more.

Admitting that he was desperately trying to control the rage at the murder of his friend would be, unequivocally, admitting to himself that Tombur was gone for good. That was something that he did not know how to do. He had found the weapon that took his friend's life, but no shooter… and the hardest emotion to dismiss was the nagging issue of a phantom guilt. The extra lightsaber clipped to his belt suddenly felt like a stone.

It was supposed to be him. Why did Tombur have to go and lose his life to save his?

His eyes wandered to the flap door of the tent, his loose feeling through the Force only barely able to pick up the dampened signature of the padawan in the building not far away. For the second time since he had met this kid years ago, he was watching him stand alone. Swallowing hard, Anakin pressed his mind further into the Force, picking up on the rumbling of the young signature beneath his feet.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do now. They were supposed to leave in ten standard hours. He doubted that would happen. He doubted that Djibourdi had managed to escape wholly intact. He wouldn't be able to forgive these… dregs if he failed to protect the padawan, too. The guilt was too much. He needed to get everyone to safety, but he couldn't do that without those legions.

"Come on, Tom," his voice came softly, "What am I supposed to do?"

"I need a favor, Anakin. I need you to promise me that you will let Djibourdi make his choice. Don't interfere."

He finally understood what his friend had meant… and he wish he didn't. He had made a promise that he might not be able to keep.

Promises is what brought Eddy to silently enter the resting place of his friend, accepting the bag of items that Bones passed to him before nodding his goodbyes to both him and Sam. They retreated just as quietly as they had come, leaving him with his supplies in the room shared by the wounded padawan and the deceased master. He found his knees next to the body of his friend, the one that had been mercifully covered with a soft blanket in its rest, bringing himself to bow completely over in a sign of respect.

He whispered a prayer and with a soft touch to the covered head, he retrieved his items and cautiously made his way over to the wounded. The reaction was exactly the one he was expecting.

Eyes hollow and his right hand buried oddly into the earth where he had pulled up an old tile Djibourdi sat still and calm, but the warning growl that rumbled through the air at Eddy's approach was all the indicator that he needed to know that he was being regarded as an intruder. Djibourdi's mind was far away from here, but his awareness was still fully intact.

"You know I wouldn't interrupt if it wasn't important," Eddy whispered, his body loose as he edged closer, "I mean you no offense… you're hurt, I want to help. You know me."

His progress was frozen when those hollow eyes rolled to him, the clear message that the instincts Djibourdi held were well prepared to do away with the threat. Those red lips drew back enough to expose the white teeth and the growls grew more intense as they rumbled through the air. Eddy had to talk himself into pushing his luck.

"Steady. Steady… You know me," he spoke carefully, matching his intention with a low hum from his montrals. Cautiously he incrementally stretched out one hand with the intention of touching his friend's shoulder, and the tension in his body melted away when Djibourdi finally caught his scent. All at once, those teeth were covered and the growls ceased, "That's right, it's old Eddy. That's better."

He was still hesitant, but more relieved when he could rest his hand against his friend's neck. Cautious, clouded eyes blinked at him, giving a lightning flash of recognition, before they turned back to the wall. In his time with the padawan Sam had somehow managed to get him into dry clothes and had done away with the drenched, blood-soaked ones that the padawan had come back in. Eddy was thankful.

"Take it easy, little one," he was quietly soothing, not tearing his eyes away as one hand dug blindly through his bag of supplies, "Okay bud… I'm going to give you some morphine. Not a lot, I just want to bring this pain down a little bit so I can help you."

He didn't get a response when he warned the younger of the oncoming sting, no reaction when the hypospray hissed, no reaction when he started to look him over… and that was more disconcerting than what he had thought he would have encountered. He had expected Djibourdi to be any other way: screaming, angry, crying, in hysterics, anything other than the silent stoniness that he was dealing with now. He would have preferred the emotion – at least he would know how to navigate that.

By some streak of good fortune Djibourdi was still functioning and in relatively good shape with all things considered, although that didn't mean it would last. The crackle in his lungs told the doctor that he had valid concern for the potential of pneumonia… or worse, pulmonary edema.

Djibourdi needed diuretics.

He needed to be put on oxygen.

He needed a hospital.

Eddy couldn't manage that for him.

The best he could do here in their camp was attempt to intercept the potential infection, and just pray that the fluid he could hear didn't come seeking a second attempt to drown out his friend's life. His heart was heavy when he found the hypodermic in his bag, keeping it well out of his patient's sight line. Still there was no response when he talked to his friend through the pinch of the hypodermic needle in his arm as the antibiotics entered his system.

The other palpable concern was Djibourdi's left arm, but Eddy was oddly relieved when he took in the damage. The field dressing did its job and slowed the bleeding, and what lay underneath it wasn't pretty.

It was an ugly collection of lacerations and cuts, deep and long and jagged that ran from the cusp of his shoulder down to his hand, but it was a blessing in disguise that he hadn't broken any bones. It undoubtedly probably painful, but not life-threatening or enough to require an amputation. He was fortunate.

The unfortunate end of it was what Eddy dreaded as he threaded the needle from his bag, laying it in a container filled with alcohol before he leaned himself into Djibourdi's sight line. It was barely acknowledged.

"Dji," he called his young friend softly, catching the twitching irises for just long enough to be assured that the younger knew he was there, "Buddy, you need stitches… a lot of them. I don't have anything here that I can numb your arm with – I am so sorry, I'm going to be as gentle as I can. If it gets to be too much, I need you to tell me. Okay?"

The best he got was a blink. It was enough. The progress was slow. It was agonizing.

It was heartbreaking when, about halfway through, the ghosts of pained whines whispered from the montrals of his young friend. If Eddy wasn't fully within Djibourdi's personal space he never would have heard them, but the guilt of causing enough pain for it to register through that wall almost made him want to stop. For the greater good he knew he had to finish so he did, trying to soothe the pain he was causing as he sealed the damage dealt in penance by the falls.

He was so very relieved when his job was finally done, the end piece of wrapping that he had wound around that torn arm sealed down with a tiny clamp, and he couldn't recall a time that he was so thrilled to shove the bag of needles and gauze and tape away from him. This day was agonizing enough. He didn't want to be the cause of more.

He stole a glance at the body that rested behind them both, his heart sinking again. How easy it was to forget amid his work that, while one life would recover, another had been lost… and the pain of its departure far outweighed anything he could cause to Djibourdi.

Djibourdi was still silent, his right hand buried within the soil of the ground beneath where they both sat. He didn't protest when he was slowly, delicately, embraced by the man in front of him – to Eddy's relief, whatever tension that had been left in the padawan melted against him. The younger didn't relinquish his position where he planted his hand in the in the ground, but he was content being bombarded by the presence and scent of the soul he had so desperately missed.

"You're cold, son," Eddy heard himself murmur, a full truth but also one that was used to excuse why he held the teenager tighter.

He couldn't fight the feeling that this shouldn't be – this whole disaster. There was so much death, so much pain, so much darkness. Darkness, he remembered, like the fading light of the sun outside the window.

Bones had explained to them what Djibourdi had asked for. Without hesitation, they were gathering it.

"The sun will set soon. We will have everything waiting for you outside," Eddy assured, allowing himself one final moment to hold the younger, "I will be here when you're ready."

Unconsciously the trill left his montrals… and oh how he wanted to cry when the response came, and finally he pulled himself away. If he didn't force himself, he would never let the younger go. That tear that still existed within himself seemed to force itself wider. He had promised himself years ago that by life or death he would protect this boy, and with no real thought he still stood by that, but he could only hope that Djibourdi wouldn't have to face the reality of the latter.

If he had chosen to stay for a minute longer, he would have seen those hollow eyes regain their clarity with a steady blink. Djibourdi had his answers.

"I think a couple more should do it, Ahsoka," Tocarra spoke up into the tree when Eddy made his exit from the building.

He could spot the padawan moving herself through the branches that her friend had been lounging in earlier in the day. She was well-focused on what she was doing, reaching out through the Force as she moved from branch to branch to shake the petals of the tree free – those petals that the clones, and rather humorously Kachina, were collecting and storing into some empty storage crate.

Six cratefuls is what Djibourdi had asked for. They would bring nine.

Ahsoka hopped down out of the tree after she had wrested one more branch free of its petals, collecting some of the remnants on the ground with a focusing of the Force. Such shows of grief were not of the Jedi. But what they were doing wasn't a show of grief, she argued with herself, it was a show of honor and compassion.

Tombur's body would never leave this planet, they couldn't justify bringing it with them in their move and the oncoming fight. They would honor him here on Shili, in the way that his padawan chose, with her own master's blessing… and that would have to be enough.

It was all so wrong. She couldn't help but feel empty two standard hours later as they all silently walked, their path dimly lit by the spare lights and lamps they could find, behind her friend as he wandered down the length of the river. This whole situation was wrong.

It was wrong that her friend had lost his entire Jedi lineage in less than a month's time. It was even more wrong that she watched him climb, painful and battered, onto the rock ledge that overlooked those falls that had ripped apart everything he had left. It certainly wasn't right to see Tombur's sword, the one that she had watched her friend utilize to outpace their enemies, now partially sheathed in the rocky surface of the overlook.

That sword reflected the moonlight that coated them all even when it bore the flowing cloth that had accompanied Djibourdi's master on his travels. It was all a silent observation that they practiced as they arranged those nine crates of petals around the based of the ledge, and it was an effort of mercy that she and Anakin lent their concentration through the Force to her friend when he called those petals to rise.

Between the three of them they rose, dancing and weaving through the air around all that stood under the glow of the moons. Seemingly the world around them turned seasons from autumn to winter, the breathtaking image of those petals, all an icy white and as light as snow, reflecting the stark light of the moons above them as they swayed. White, Djibourdi had chosen, not because his master reflected that color… in his opinion, the man's soul did as well.

The ghosts of Djibourdi's memory echoed with those flowing petals, and as they drifted by, Anakin and Ahsoka could hear those lost words.

"Have you ever felt like you can never do anything well enough?"

"You know that I have, Red."

His padawan, and the Living Force that guided the flowers around them, deemed Tombur innocent in death.

"Why do I get the feel as though we mourn for different people tonight, Tombur?"

"It's beautiful," Tocarra whispered amongst the clones that stood at salute, her eyes widened at the sacred display she was bearing witness to.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Yes…a fitting tribute," Donovan answered her where he was seated on a log. Little Kachina, balanced in his lap, reached out a hand as if to try and catch the display. Softly, one single white flower drifted over landed in her palm. None of them would ever realize that the slightest shift of Djibourdi's fingers guided its path.

The falls, he deemed, were innocent too – simply an unknowing assassin that followed its natural path while holding those that couldn't follow. Djibourdi was the one who had resisted despite understanding what was to be. The falls could not bear the fault of his choice, so he let that anger go along with his guiding control of the flowers that whisked away the shadows that weighed down his master's soul.

When he slowly brought himself to kneel in meditation in front of his master's sword the petals drifted down, some blowing with the wind over the cliff and others drifting without the persuasion of the Force to land in the rushing water. They all found their way, as bright as the moonlight, over the light-soaked ridge and into the darkness beyond it.

His guests, understanding that this blessing was over, chose to slowly make their way back to what remained of their camp – leaving the ridge occupied by Sam, the Reapers, Anakin, Ahsoka, and the one who knelt in focus.

"We should leave him for now," Anakin addressed his padawan quietly, satisfied that the mourning teenager was well-guarded by his clones.

"Alone, master?" she answered him, dismissing her own sadness that bubbled up as she looked to her friend above her, "Isn't that dangerous?"

"No more dangerous than sitting behind the walls of that camp, now. We all need to get some rest…we'll be leaving in a few hours," he replied, resting his hand on her shoulder to draw her eyes. He soothed her hurt with understanding, nodding to the youngest among them who still rested in meditation, "Clearly… he has to face his own demons before he can face the ones we're about to engage."

She hesitated for a moment before she finally agreed, turning to follow her master. Behind her, the Fox mourned alone under the studying gazes of the six moons.

He stayed like that, eyes shut, breathing even, hands resting on his knees, for the longest time as his clones sat guard – perhaps that's why the slight movement that rustled the grasses on the edge of the ridge to his right drew his attention so suddenly. Slowly the golden eyes slid open, turning to the vegetation that poked out under the trees.

A small, shy huff of a smile twitched his lips at the curious little animal that blinked at him. He chose to stay frozen where he was, pleased when it slowly, hesitantly, pulled itself out of its cover and creeped its way across the open space to where he was. How brave for this little rabbit, he mused as it grew closer, his eyes twinkling as he watched its white ears swivel back and forth while it hopped to him.

When it grew close enough, he offered it his right hand. Nose twitching and sniffing the little rabbit met his gaze with wide grey eyes while it took in his scent, then rubbed its chin on his fingers before it moved to hop away. Satisfied that the little animal had pushed its own courage enough, Djibourdi lowered his hand and his head, closing his eyes to return to meditation.

A quiet thump met his montrals.

The rabbit must have just registered that it has gone up to a predator and was warning its kin. It was more than likely bolting off by now.

But another thump tickled his montrals.

Then another.

Why would the animal not just run away?

Djibourdi opened his eyes, and when he turned to the rabbit, its ears shot straight in awareness. He didn't understand this behavior… how odd for the little thing. He turned his attention back to the sword.

A louder thump.

He was quicker to turn back to the little creature that had pinned its ears back but now had them raised again at his attention. Without breaking its gaze on him it hopped twice toward the trees, and when he didn't follow the white ears fell as it gave another thump.

His mind was so heavy, his body was so tired, clouded and angry like the water of the falls. But somehow, through the soothing blanket of the moonlight that washed over him, his mind became steady and clear.

"Follow the rabbit, Red."

Those words echoed in his mind as the animal thumped its foot again at him. Could it really be that easy?

Achingly Djibourdi rose to his feet, the little rabbit perking and standing on its hindlegs when he finally reached his full height. The padawan's first step toward him had the rabbit hopping twice toward the trees, then looking back to him. Satisfied that the Togruta was following it began to lead him down the cliff and through the trees six or seven hops at a time, glancing back every so often to make sure he was still following.

Halfway down the path that he had trudged up only hours before, he spotted the regal kybuck stag that watched him. It was odd to him that the animal gazed straight into his eyes like it recognized him, as though they had met somewhere before… and it was only raw curiosity that had Djibourdi stopping and offering it his hand.

Ears sharp it slowly ranged to him. The velvety nose ticked his hand when the regal animal lowered its head, those eyes staring straight through his shields and soothing away his grief. Oh yes… he knew this soul, he realized, and the soul recognized both him and the rabbit that had hopped back to stand in curiosity at both of their feet.

The kybuck twittered and leaned itself down to meet the rabbit, the two animals greeting as if they had known each other for years before they turned to look at Djibourdi. Suddenly, he didn't feel so alone. His guides had come to lead him on.

Sparing only a quick glance back to Sam who had quietly trailed after him with the Reapers he signed a message, registering the reluctant nods of the men who protected him.

In the growing moonlight, the Fox followed the rabbit and the stag down the ridge, back toward the base of the falls that had washed away the last of his resistance.

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All in good time, my friends. All will be made clear. 😊

Happy Writing,

Eliana