Good day all,

In a moment of honesty: this broke my heart to write. The next few chapters will be harder. I hope that I have done justice to what is coming, and that I have portrayed the dedication of master and padawan well. Please let me know what you all think.

Respectfully,

Eliana

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"So, it's a demon."

Although it was said with finality from her friend's lips, it almost floated across to Ahsoka as a question. Her response, though hesitant, was a shake of her head.

"No, I don't think so. Tocarra said it's a great guardian spirit, something almighty that walks the line between life and death; it takes life when it must and saves lives if they're innocent. It's supposed to reflect our purest connection to nature and family… to me the Harbinger sounds more like a positive entity than something to be feared."

Djibourdi didn't answer her that time, and his eyes didn't shift from the world in front of them. Ahsoka had been right in her assumption that bringing him here would be a good idea, and it seemed that nature itself decided to make the night worth remembering. Storm clouds were in the distance, painting a part of the horizon in flashing light that clashed with the shimmering stars before it. The rain bands tossed mixes of grey into the dark green shadows of the trees that were illuminated by the moons, painting an image of serenity and peace that transcended their understanding. Marring that gorgeous artwork, one that looked like it was crafted by a master artist, was a small trail of shimmering lights in the trees.

Lines, flickering and humming and moving, marked the torches and candles of their people who sought refuge on the other side of the mountain range. The parade of lights was breathtaking… and crushing at the same time. The deepest part of Ahsoka wanted to jump down there and redirect them all, send them in the opposite direction or at least explain what was going to happen, but she reminded herself why that wasn't an option.

Those hunters were probably watching the same scene she and her friend were. She wouldn't be able to feel them before they were upon her, and any provocation on her part could make them choose to slaughter those innocents now for her interference. That was blood that she couldn't stand to have on her hands. All she and Djibourdi could do right now was watch over them on their journey and know that they would be able to intervene when the time was right, but that was devastating.

Less devastating was a revelation she had when they first reached the ridge together, the Reapers staying on the other side of the archway at their commander's request. Djibourdi had wanted them to have a few peaceful moments together and now Ahsoka could finally understand why. She could hear them – the alarmed hums, the terrified thumps, the searching whistles of the warriors who were trying to protect the others from the enemy they couldn't find – she could hear them. It almost brought her a strangled joy.

There was no such joy on her friend's face. Instead, there was a marked emotion that his eyes gave away: grief. Palpable, tangible, horrible grief. Whom did he grieve for? Ahsoka wasn't sure as his eyes trailed the six moons that had moved closer to the diamond Eddy told them they would form two nights from now and would stay in for a day.

"We're going to help them," she tried, taken aback when he frowned.

His silence started to worry her until softly, sorrowfully, he pondered aloud.

"I cannot believe we have spent years roaming the galaxy watching our friends get shot, blown up, and tortured… letting ourselves get shot, blown up, and tortured… just to bring the war back home with us."

Her sudden surge of disbelief had him studying her.

"What?"

"….you called this 'home'," she pointed out and watched his brow furrow.

"What else would I call it?"

"I.. I don't…" Ahsoka had to try a few times to get the words out correctly, "The Temple has always been my home. It isn't yours?"

When he looked away from her and back to the parade of lights, her heart constricted. She couldn't understand why he suddenly shied from the title attached to them. To test her own observation, she pushed.

"We are Jedi - peacekeepers."

"We are soldiers and weapons," he corrected, bringing his hands up to his face before he studied his palms with fascination. Eventually they clenched to fists again and fell between his knees as he leaned back with a sigh, "My master has summoned the palisades."

"Yeah, he said they're force field generators. It'll keep the civilians safe from our enemies –"

She stopped when Djibourdi suddenly started chuckling. There was no humor in the tone and that's what struck her as odd; it was a humorless, dry, grieving chuckle that illustrated the war of emotions that bubbled hotly beneath his mask.

"They aren't for keeping the innocents safe. They're meant to keep our enemies from escape."

"But Tombur said –"

"I thought you would have caught on by now. Tombur says many things, Ahsoka, it is his gift: he is an artist with words. The palisades are the boundary line of contention and nothing more than that; no one comes in, no one goes out. The role of our legions is to eliminate the threat to the innocents by any means necessary – we match intention. If they engage with the intent of death, they will meet that fate. If they will not allow the innocent to run, they will be denied that right. The wall only falls on two conditions: the enemy is defeated, or the Jedi General is dead."

When his golden irises shifted over to her again, they were alight with pain and sadness.

"When the fighting starts, I want you take note of what the Order has destined for us. And then you will have to tell me, dear sister, if you still believe in your heart that the Jedi are peacekeepers."

She didn't know what to say to him, how to help him release that pain that was trapped behind his eyes. That wasn't the only thing that he grieved for, and the caring side of her wanted nothing more than to soothe the broken heart that he so protected. Hesitantly she reached out a hand, her fingers delicately tapping the back of his own. Her gesture wasn't rejected.

Slowly, delicately, she grasped his hand in her own and gave it a reassuring squeeze, more than relieved when the sensation was returned. Code be damned, she told herself, her thumb rubbing over his knuckles to bring him a modicum of peace. There was something very wrong, something incredibly concerning that she didn't understand going on with him… like he was enveloped in a wave of mourning so violent that he couldn't keep his head above water as it ripped him from shore.

She attempted to distract him by looking back out to the trees with a gesturing jerk of her head.

"Once this is all over, I'm still on retreat… maybe you could finally take one too. We'll make this our spot, and we'll come back here every now and then. Just you and me, Dji. Just the two of us. Together."

The hand that was held in hers shook every-so-slightly.

"We can do it."

He didn't have any form of answer for her. That feeling from years ago came back with a vengeance, one that he had been trying to fight from the moment that he realized that the Outsiders stalked among the land he considered to be so sacred. They were desecrating the holiness of nature, acting like an invasive species that aimed to pillage and ravage and consume everything they touched.

He had been so incredibly careful since the day, three years ago, that he had figured out what he and Ahsoka were – he had been sure to keep an eye on her, despite knowing full well that in a battle of wills she would undoubtedly be the victor. He had kept her at a distance so that she would have some scrap-sized piece of safety from the carnage that was inherently a part of his existence, despite understanding that she was far more capable than himself. He had corrected himself when he wanted to seek her out because her presence alone was one of the most grounding things he knew, despite understanding she wouldn't turn him away.

Ahsoka was meant to be the best of them, he knew as he watched the trail of lights below them over the klicks of distance. She was meant for such a purpose that the Force itself chose her. If something was to happen here and she were put in a position to not fulfill that destiny, to him that would be entirely his fault. Not hers.

They were both destined to serve the Force in their own way, and to protect her from the pits that called and sneered at them both, he would go. It wasn't a sacrifice if it was the right thing to do and, as her pulse thrummed against his palm, he was assured that his decision was justified. They were both destined to serve the Force as equalizers… so they would both have to be called to reckon.

They would one day rise from the ashes, but the burning came first. His would come before hers and he could not warn her of what would happen, lest she try to resist it – the shadow that walked with her would be the thing that would ultimately set her alight. He doubted that, even if he told her, that she would believe him.

Resistance was something that neither of them could do. The burning had to come first, and for this part he had to be brave. For this night, and only this night, he would allow that bravery to be reinforced by two others.

His breath shuddered a bit when he brought it back in, and he felt a tremendous amount of guilt when his friend turned to him with a startled expression.

"Ahsoka," he whispered to her, "I need you to know something."

She tried to be reassuring as she squeezed his hand.

"Go ahead."

Their eyes finally met again. The Living Force of the Bloodlands sang a woeful song as it vibrated with comforting warmth to its chosen.

"I will always be able to find you, Ahsoka, and I will never stop marching to reach you when you need me. I will be there with you…whatever it takes."

An agonized smile blessed her lips, but it came as a double-edged sword. Those words didn't feel as comforting as he intended. Her smile fell when Djibourdi looked down to their clasped hands, then back up to her with a look of unsecured fear.

"But I'm sorry," he managed to press out to her, and before she could ask why he brokenly whispered, "Because Ahsoka… I'm scared."

She almost used that as another moment of teaching him control, another moment of showing him that the dark could not outweigh the light. Instead, the words of Obi-Wan echoed in her mind and she decided that if he was going to admit fear to her, she would ride it out with him. Just the two of them.

"You know what, Dji?" she asked of him, "That's okay. Because I'm scared too."

He willingly fell into the loose embrace she offered, each of them wrapping their spare arms around the other's back and leaning against each other as they watched the moons swim through the clouds, guiding the parade of lights through the mountains. The sounds of their people echoed through the air as they marched on their great exodus, the animals and insects of the night sadly singing a hymn to the journey of fear.

For that moment, if nothing else, Djibourdi felt content. That perfect moment, forever frozen in time, proved it: his decision was justified.

When the storm clouds in the distance grew too near to be safe the two retreated with the Reapers back to the safety of the camp, going their separate ways until the morning would arrive. Neither one would find sleep.

The dismissed runners of the Charger legion made their way past them in ordered lines with Campion at their lead, heading off into the night to join the army that slept among the trees. They brought with them a warning of war.

Ahsoka, her mind whirring with desperation and anxiety, met her master on the edge of the guarding wall to focus herself in on her task of keeping them all safe. Anakin didn't reject her company but instead chose to pull them both into the safety of their quarters as the rain started, an attempt on his part to calm his padawan. It didn't work.

Djibourdi sought out the comfort of his shared space with his master. Surely, he bargained with himself, the familiar scents and sights of their temporary quarters would be a welcome relief from the onslaught of devastation that was slamming itself against his shields. He could rest tonight and worry about the battle tomorrow – that was his hope. That hope was in vain he would find out as he reached the landing, the door shutting softly behind him.

Normally the sight of his master instantly shut down any gnawing or hissing of the dark. Tonight, the sight of him brought a different reaction entirely, and he was almost forced to his knees at the sudden weight that slammed onto his shoulders. He thought he was going to be ill as the wind left his lungs, wrapping his sleeveless arms around his torso as he fought for control against the burning tears that bit his eyes.

Tombur watched him with saddened eyes where he stood under the skylight, watched his padawan take tiny, shaky baby steps toward him with absolute desperation painted on his face. Oh, how he wanted to relieve him of this pain… he didn't deserve such things. The darkness that had been in the distance was reaching them now and the knight realized that it hadn't just pursued him. It had come for them both.

This vice of duty was a burden that he and his padawan shared, and now they had to atone for the blood that they had spilled in the name of an Order that no longer stood for what it once did. The darkness was approaching, demanding atonement for their sins, and Tombur knew that two sinners could not atone from a single prayer. He loved the bond he shared with Djibourdi, and he hated it at the same time. Because of that bond, he was watching his friend face the full-faced reality of what was coming…and there was nothing he could do to stop it. There was nothing he could do.

As much as he wanted to protect his padawan from this, he knew one thing remained true: neither of them could resist it. The burning had to come first.

Wordlessly he opened his arms and his padawan finally found his place in them, wrapping his arms around his master's waist as those porcelain arms cocooned him into the warmth that was Tombur. His padawan was the perfect height to be able to push his face into the snowy hair that flowed over the white neck, Tombur's chin resting in the valley of his montrals as he drew the teenager as close to himself as he could. The scent of chai and white tea was usually the cure for Djibourdi's fear; tonight, it amplified it. The smell of sandalwood and koiya flowers was usually the antidote to Tombur's regrets; tonight, it magnified them.

This kind of outburst hadn't happened in years – and this time, Djibourdi didn't feel those emotions alone.

The warm tears that hit his montrals and rolled down his lekku were evidence enough of that, and it took as much courage as he could muster to briefly pull himself away and force his own burning eyes to meet the drowning ones of his master.

"Why do I get the feeling that we mourn for different people tonight, Tombur?"

His master gave him a quirking smile, not bothering to try and stop his own tears as he freed one hand to carefully brush away some of his padawan's. He wasn't wrong, but he didn't want to add heartache to heartache. There was too much sudden agony for that. Instead, he offered a smile, then a hard blink of his eyes drew more tears to his skin.

"I am sorry, my little one," he whispered to him, one thumb stroking over the raw skin of his apprentice's cheekbone. He no longer cared for the supposed rules he had to follow – there was nothing more for him there, "You must be brave for me now, Red."

The gulping cry his padawan released at that tore him straight in two, and in an act of desperation to help hold him together Tombur pulled him back into the safety of his arms again. He would have gladly fought any form of enemy, run head-first into the jaws of the underworld if it would only halve this pain – but tonight, the best he could do was exist and not disappear like the arms that grasped him tight begged him not to.

Two concerned Force signatures called to the pair who grieved under the crashing thunder outside, startled by the raw energy being thrown from the two of them. Their only answer was a reflective wall that told them they were appreciated, but not welcome.

Daylight would come soon enough. Until then, the Fox and the Rabbit would mourn together under the now pounding rain. Eventually Tombur would rock his padawan through a restless night, awakening in the very early hours of the morning to find the golden eyes sunken and tired and his padawan shot for energy as he clung to his master's form.

They would begin their day as they always did before a battle, hard run and driven before the sun had a chance to peek in on them. And then, inevitably, the Living Force would come calling for its penance.

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….it has been a very long time since I have caused an emotional reaction to myself simply by writing. This was hard, and it only gets harder. For the justification of Ahsoka and Djibourdi I'm going to continue…I just need to calm my weeping heart.

Happy Writing,
Eliana