Dear Reader, this chapter has a lot going on, and I admit it's one of my favorites. You will see scads of references to Watership Down! A few shout-outs to other episodes ("All we have are a couple of walkers and the Twilight. Awaiting orders, Sir!"), Anakin's suspicions, and "the bird." I hope you enjoy. Peace, CS

Chapter 35 Seeing Through the Wind

"Shadows in the darkness, just passing through.
Now that I've found you, I realize what I've got to do."

The Western Sky
Justin Hayward

"You should head back to the healing rooms, Jesse."

This suggestion from Pitch came as the two squad mates joined in the task of clearing the rubble of the assembly hall. Now that the combat situation was over and it was just the two of them in close proximity, Pitch could revert to calling his brother by his name and not his rank. It was a fine line that he, Kix and Hardcase walked – when to call their ranking squad mates by their names versus their ranks. And while there was no set of unspoken rules, Pitch, for his part, always tried to use rank when in front of other non-squad mate brothers. Sometimes the urgency or surprise of the moment made him forget himself, but that was a slip he was willing to live with.

"Eh, it's not so bad," Jesse replied. "Besides, there's a lot of work to do here."

"And a lot of other people who can handle it," Pitch pointed out. "Don't forget: you were out cold for a few minutes. And you're pretty banged up. You probably have a concussion—"

"Once the engineers arrive, I'll head back to get looked at," Jesse cut him off. But he if thought he was preempting any further discussion, he should have known better.

"Don't be so stubborn," Pitch chastised. "The fighting's over. Last thing we need is for you to keel over from a head injury. We can handle it."

"You're damned right, they can handle it. And you'd better do as he says, or you'll have me to answer to."

Both men recognized the voice immediately, and turning, they felt as if deliverance had arrived – in a manner of speaking.

The trooper standing before them was clad in armor emblazoned with 501st blue – and now with a plain grey one-sided pauldron and grey kama. His helmet, almost as battered as the rest of his armor, sported the tell-tale sign of a highly stylized running Beshan rabbit just above the visor.

"Well, look who decided to drop in on his way back from charm school!" Pitch said with a great smile.

Jesse added in pointed humor, "I guess they'll let just about anybody graduate from ARC training these days."

"Just about," came the reply, and the trooper came to meet them.

They knew him well enough to brace for the greeting; and as he took them both, one arm around each man's neck, and tightened his hold into one-armed headlocks, the two of them went along willingly. This was tradition, and it had been eight or nine weeks at least since they'd last seen him.

Bent double, they stumbled along as he walked at a leisurely pace. "Have you missed me? I know you have. I see now what happens when I'm not around. You revert right back to Shinie mode and get into all kinds of trouble, don't you? Oh, but it's good to see you again. I missed you. You missed me, right? It's been a long time. By the Force, it feels like it's been a million years. I can't believe it was only six weeks. Was it six weeks? Fek and all, it had to have been longer than that."

He released them, and they both straightened up, grinning broadly.

"Good to have you back, Top," Jesse said sincerely. "And yes, we have missed you. A lot."

"And uh, this look . . . it suits you," Pitch added. "Congratulations, ARC trooper."

"Thanks, brother," Top replied. "It wasn't so hard."

"Really?"

"Of course, it was hard!" the newly minted ARC trooper roared. "But that's the way I like it. Anything too easy isn't worth going after, heh? I like a challenge."

"Yeah, well, you're crazy like that," Pitch prodded.

"Enh-huh." Top had a funny way with one- or two-syllable sounds of agreement or disagreement. "But not so crazy as to think I should be busting my ass after I've just about had my head blown off." He looked pointedly at Jesse. "That means you, brother. Krebs, half your face is covered in blood, and if you were unconscious, you need to be looked at."

Jesse shook his head and simpered. "Okay, Mister Bigwig, don't think that just because you're now an ARC trooper, you're going to give me orders. We're both still lieutenants, but I'm second-in-command."

"You're right," Top conceded. "Can I help it if I don't want to see my second-in-command . . . how did you put it, Pitch? – keel over because he was too hardheaded to go see a medic when he should have?"

"Oh, for the love of—"

"Well, I'll . . . be . . . damned!"

This was Hardcase's voice, and it drew the three squad-mates' attention.

"Don't you look pretty in your fancy little skirt and shoulder pads?"

Top greeted Hardcase the same way he had Jesse and Pitch. Such masculine bravado traced straight back to their days on Kamino when Top had soundly defeated each of them repeatedly in every hand-to-hand combat training matchup. He liked to remind them of his superiority in that one area at least, and none of his squad-mates had any complaint. It was a fun reminder of good times.

"You would never say that to the captain," Top pointed out as he half-dragged Hardcase to where Jesse and Pitch stood watching with humor.

"The captain looks good in his—" Hardcase began, choking off as Top tightened his hold.

"I look good in mine!"

"You look dainty."

"I'll show you how dainty I am," Top threatened, but he released his brother, and even behind the darkened visor of his helmet, the others could tell he was smiling.

"Where's LB?"

"Augh . . . you know he hates when you call him that," Pitch said.

"Nah, he don't," Top replied, purposefully tweaking his vernacular – something he often did, whether for effect or out of habit or just to have fun with his words – no one really knew. It was simply a part of who he was, and his squad-mates accepted it. "So, where is he? We need to have a proper reunion with all five of us."

Jesse looked at his brothers. They clearly were deferring to him to answer the question.

"He's in the healing rooms," Jesse began, adding quickly. "He's alright, but . . . he was injured when we crashed, and he's still recovering."

The whole mood of the moment changed. "How bad?" Top asked.

Jesse took a deep breath. After Kix, Top was the most emotional of the five of them. Sometimes, Jesse thought he might even beat Kix out for that title.

"It was very serious," he explained evenly. "We thought, for a time, that he wasn't going to make it. But the people here are healers, and their skills are far beyond anything I've ever seen before. It took a while, but he's definitely out of danger. We were even going to try and get him outside today . . . until this happened."

"Take me to him."

And there would be no argument. They would all go together. That was how it was with Saber Squad.

Anakin was not one to hoard news – good or bad. If he knew something and felt it needed to be shared, he did so right away. While this had always been his propensity, wartime had honed that trait within him, for he never knew if he would be alive long enough to pass along information - or utter a word of greeting or an expression of comfort.

He had developed the ability to worry little about what was to come, realizing that he needed to survive the here and now if he hoped to be present for the future. Mistakes on the battlefield often did not afford a second chance. He tended to take that philosophy into every corner of his life these days. Do what needed to be done, and don't hesitate.

But as he watched Doma Maree interacting with her people, helping move debris, directing the doctors and nurses now arriving at the scene, he held back. To be sure, he had news; and he had no doubt that she would want to know. Still, he wavered.

It was not that the Doma intimidated him, although she did, to some small degree.

It was rather that his curiosity would be better satisfied if he waited just a short bit. Ahsoka would be back soon, and then would follow any hints of significance.

But that might be considered unkind or cruel.

"Go tell her," Anakin ordered himself. "She's worried. She needs to know."

"Ah, here comes the 40th." This was from Obiwan, speaking of the arrival of the 40th Combat Engineering Brigade, two battalions of which had been assigned to assist. The 40th was part of the Resolute's Battle Group, and although they had their own ships within the battle group, they also had two battalions permanently quartered aboard the flagship. "I'll meet with Colonel Hexxat and brief him on the situation."

Anakin only nodded.

"Is something on your mind?" Obiwan inquired. "You seem preoccupied."

"I'm wondering . . . " Anakin began slowly, " . . . what kind of woman Doma Maree is."

"What kind of woman?" Obiwan said.

"You had to feel what I felt when we first met her, Master," Anakin put forth. "She has some kind of energy, but it didn't feel like the Force."

"I did feel it. But I didn't get the impression it was anything to be concerned about. Clearly, she and her Order are dedicated to peace." A pause. "And Bertegad is aligned with the Republic." Seeing that his protégé was still bothered, he went on. "We have an ally in these people. I perceive no danger in them."

"Judging from what Jesse told us, apparently there is a danger," Anakin countered. "At least one of these religious people didn't want the clones around . . . and wanted them gone badly enough to turn them over to the Separatists." He narrowed his eyes as he continued to watch the Doma. "But that's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what?"

Anakin balked. This was not a topic to bring up under the current circumstances. In fact, it was not a topic to be brought up at all. If the Doma had some sort of feelings for Rex, it hardly mattered; for the Resolute would be leaving probably sooner than later. Rex would go with them, and there was no chance—none—that he would allow himself to be distracted from his primary goal of waging war by the memories of time spent with this woman. Rex was too much of a professional.

But again, that was not what was truly nagging at Anakin, hovering all about the verge of his conscience. No, it was something else. It was the idea of a holy woman—a woman who must certainly have a code by which she lived—finding something to love in a soldier.

It was almost akin to a Jedi finding something to love in . . . a senator.

"Woah, woah, you're getting ahead of yourself," Anakin chided. "You don't know if there's anything going on there or not. You don't know what you felt. Just . . . take a step back. Besides, you've got other more important things to think about. This place is a disaster."

"I'm just . . . hoping this devastation is something she can deal with," he said, deciding ultimately that a lie was better than a truth filled with unsubstantiated suspicions.

"Generals, ship approaching from the northeast," Cody announced.

Anakin had heard the gunship's engines before Cody had spoken, and he already knew what was coming off that ship. He turned towards its slow approach over the treetops.

It was coming in headlong, but when it fishtailed to the side almost directly overhead, revealing the open side door, Anakin's sense of relief found its final closure.

Standing in the doorway, peering down with his usual gravity, looking no worse for what he'd just been through, Rex looked like a statue – notwithstanding his local attire – a monument to the great clone army. He met his general's eyes, and the two exchanged a curt nod as the ship lowered slowly, proceeding cautiously amidst the many people coming and going in the area.

Anakin saw Rex's gaze then sweep out past him.

Anakin casually turned his attention towards the Doma, and he knew at that moment.

Maree had stopped what she was doing and seemed to be struggling between laughing and crying, though her composure never cracked. She swallowed down any sentiment that might have been blatant to the untrained eye; but for someone like Anakin Skywalker, there was no disguising what was going on in the woman's head.

Rex did not take his eyes from hers until the gunship touched down, and then he showed himself to be his usual steady self. He stepped down and went immediately to his commanding general.

"Good to see you, Sir," he said with a salute, standing ramrod straight and with the formal bearing for which he was so well known.

"You, too, Rex," Anakin replied. "And in one piece."

Rex responded with an arch, expectant expression, which assured General Skywalker that his captain was perfectly fine. It also prompted an apology.

"Uh, sorry about that little case of mistaken identity," Anakin said a bit self-consciously.

"You had no way of knowing, Sir," Rex replied. "And no harm done. We all came through it okay."

Anakin looked to Ahsoka, who was beaming in a way her master had not seen in a long time.

"Good job, Snips."

"All in a day's work, Master," she replied casually. She would not give too much away where her feelings were concerned. "I'm glad they all made it."

Anakin returned his attention to Rex. "That was a crazy plan you came up with," he said, almost admiringly. "You may have actually pulled it off if we hadn't shot you down."

Tip and Bounce had exited the ship behind Rex, and now Bounce could not help speaking up in passing. "We were flying by the seat of our pants, General."

Anakin smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Sometimes that's the best way to fly."

As the two pilots headed off to join the rescue efforts, Anakin noticed that the Doma was heading in his direction. She moved with the calm, measured movements of someone who was in complete control, yet Anakin was not fooled. There was much roiling beneath the placid exterior.

"Captain Rex, I'm glad to see you're back safely," she announced, her voice containing genuine happiness but giving no hint at anything beyond what finely honed manners and extraordinary containment would warrant under such circumstances.

"Me, too," Rex replied.

"I didn't know you'd gone up in the ship," Maree stated.

"It was a chance we had to take."

Anakin watched this exchange with a growing certitude. The voices, the mannerisms, the artificial coolness and distance. He knew it all so well. He knew the look on Maree's face. He had seen similar expressions many times before. Rex was somewhat more difficult to decipher, but it was still clear to Anakin that something had happened between these two, though precisely what and to what degree remained to be seen. For now, they were both comporting themselves with the professionalism and decorum required by the gravity and urgency of the situation.

"Again, I'm—I'm relieved you're safe," Maree said, appearing as if she wanted to say more, but then adding, "I have to get back to work."

Rex nodded. He watched in silence for several seconds as the Doma returned to helping clear the rubble, noting on the edge of his awareness that the engineers—more of his brothers—were beginning to arrive. Soon, things would begin moving quickly. He returned his attention to General Skywalker.

"Orders, Sir?"

Knowing that his captain would balk at any suggestion to take it easy for a few minutes, Anakin gave as nebulous an order as he could conjure. "Take charge of your battalion, Captain."

"I have no functioning communications, General," Rex pointed out.

Anakin crossed his arms with an unspoken message that Rex took to heart immediately.

"I'll find a way, Sir," he said with a crisp snap to attention. With General Skywalker, there were no excuses, no begging off. Rex would go procure his own comm-link from someone, somehow.

Anakin went on, "You've got four squads out securing the area. Jesse did a headcount and everyone was accounted for."

"Where is Jesse?" Rex asked.

"He and his crew were going to check on Kix," Anakin replied, adding with quirky expression, "Although I don't know why it took all four of them to do it."

"All four?" Rex knew the intimation of that number. "Top is back?"

Here, Ahsoka spoke up. "I'll say. You might be fighting for your job, Rex."

Rex regarded her with doubt but said nothing.

"It's almost eighteen hundred hours," Anakin said, looking at his chronometer. "Meet back here at twenty hundred for a status update. In the meantime, it's your battalion, Rex. Put them to use as you see fit."

It was imprecise, but Anakin felt it was exactly the kind of order that befitted the circumstances. After three weeks of absence, Rex needed to be jolted back into command of the 800 men who comprised the 501st. Only a small jolt, for Rex never veered far from his primary mission of leading men and waging war. But if Anakin were right and the sweet life had diverted his attention during his three-week hiatus, he might have strayed a bit further than expected. In fact, Rex had never been away from the front lines of battle for more than 10 standard days – the amount of time it had taken to inspect outlying listening posts. The general's order would not only keep him occupied but it would start turning once more the wheels of his innate need for action.

For Anakin was well-acquainted with how it felt to lose one's focus, to slide easily and willingly into the depths of a woman's affection, ready to forsake everything that had once been held as important. And he had already conceded that the only thing that had stopped him from falling completely was his lover's fortitude.

Padme Amadala – Senator Padme Amadala – had been his bulwark.

His protection against his own weakness.

Looking at Rex, his steady and reliable captain, he wondered . . .

"But does he have any weakness? Any?"

The next few days would tell.

The room was empty.

"They must have evacuated everyone when the fighting started," Jesse supposed, then popping back out into the hallway, he saw a sister at the far end and called out to her.

She came to meet him.

"Where is everyone?"

"They were moved down into the caverns," she replied. "We haven't received the all-clear to bring them back up yet."

"Can you take us there?"

She nodded, then asked, "You are looking for Kix?"

"Yes."

They followed her down into the labyrinth of underground passages.

She approached a brother who was standing at the opening into a large cave, and after a brief inquiry, she led them through the cave, which was filled with people on gurneys and in wheelchairs, all the accessories of their medical requirements surrounding them. The adjacent cave into which she passed was more organized with partitioned areas and permanent equipment. This area was meant to house the more seriously ill and injured during just such times of turmoil.

In the seventh or eighth partitioned "room", she swept out her hand and stepped back.

Jesse walked in first to see Kix sitting up in the bed, looking worried and forlorn. But when Kix raised his eyes and his gaze fell upon his brother, his reaction was one of both relief and concern: relief that he was still alive, and concern over the blood now gelling and crusting on the side of Jesse's face.

"Jesse . . . are you alright? What's going on up there?" Kix asked.

"The fighting's over," Jesse replied. "General Skywalker's here. And, uh, we brought you a little surprise." As he spoke, Top, Pitch and Hardcase came around the partition.

"I—I don't believe it," Kix said, barely able to get the words out.

Top came forward, removing his helmet.

The face beneath was the same one they all shared, yet there was a softness in the eyes and around the mouth – unexpected, considering the blustery, overbearing personality behind those eyes and the boastful, continuous chatter that usually poured from that mouth.

But there were was no bluster and no chatter right now. Only the earnest affection of brotherhood as he put his gloved hand on Kix's shoulder and leaned over until their foreheads touched.

"Little Brother," he murmured.

"I hate it when you call me that," Kix replied lightly.

"Neh, you don't."

Top straightened up and took a moment collect himself. For whatever traits he possessed that got on his brothers' nerves, it could never be said that he was not fiercely devoted to them, to the point where he did not care if his emotions showed.

He might be the most daring, aggressive, and fearless among them; but he was also generous, passionate, and superstitious. Over-protective at the same time as expecting everyone to carry their own weight, he made no demands that he himself would not keep. He accepted Jesse's superiority in position without grudge or envy, for he knew Jesse was the more level-headed, the more thoughtful. He understood Jesse's reasons for declining ARC training – Top had entertained the same reservations himself; but he had confidence that the day would come.

From a physical aspect, Top stood out even in a squad of standouts. He had gotten his name owing to the haircut he had chosen back on Kamino – back in the days before it was even acceptable or fashionable to sport any appearance other than the standard. He wore a high and tight that rose into a perfectly coiffed flat top – and after coming to the 501st, he'd dyed it the requisite blue.

He bore a tattoo very similar to Hardcase's; and in fact, it was the second half of the title they both coveted and a mark of the deep friendship they had formed beyond their brotherhood.

Hardcase sported the word "Big" in the old Yelvin code. Top wore the word "Wig", also Yelvin Code.

Bigwig.

It had been a running rivalry between them since the first moments they'd been old enough to be aware of each other, and now it was a source of camaraderie and a symbol of their bond. From the outset, they had been striving to outdo one another: in physical contests, combat skills, piloting and navigation, survival training, each claiming that he was the "bigwig" of the batch. And through their competition, they had ironically developed a friendship that went a long way towards defining who they both were – so much so, that only Hardcase knew the appropriate thing to say at that moment.

"Krebs, you're not gonna start crying, are you?"

"Shut up," Top replied without missing a beat, then to Kix. "Are you going to be okay, LB?"

"Not if you keep calling me that."

Top conceded. "Kix, are you going to be alright?"

"Yes," came the reply. "I'm going to be fine."

Top turned and in what could have been the dramatic performance of a lifetime, held out his arms plaintively and with feigned upset, claimed, "I see now that I can't leave you guys alone for even a few weeks. This is what happens when I'm not around."

Pitch leaned against Hardcase's shoulder. "Here we go."

Jesse, knowing his fellow lieutenant's tendency towards histrionics, replied sincerely, "Believe me, we wished you were here. We all wished you were here."

"But that wouldn't have changed anything in the crash," Kix stated. He smiled at some internal image. "All it would have meant was that they'd have to spend as much time comforting you as looking after me."

"Maybe so, maybe so," Top granted. "I'm just glad we're all together again."

And he knew he was speaking for all of them.

The sun was low in the sky when the first survivors were brought out from the ruins of the assembly hall.

Anakin had been watching the rescue efforts. He was always amazed when he watched the engineers at work. As combat engineers, their usual line of work involved constructing bridges and orbital rings, repairing airfields and spaceports, building structures to serve as headquarters or barracks. They were not usually in the business of search and rescue; but from what Anakin was witnessing, they should have been. They were quick, cautious, and precise.

And the rewards of their meticulous labor was now being uncovered.

There was a moment when Anakin looked on in curious wonder as Echo charged past everyone else on the hand-out team and took a little girl in his arms. The child clutched around his neck, but she was not crying. Nor was she bemused, as many of the others were. She was happy – and if Anakin were any judge, she was happy not merely to be alive: she was happy to see Echo.

Anakin began to wonder. The subtle reunion between Rex and the Doma. This joyful reunion between Echo and a little girl. What else had transpired in the three weeks since they had crash-landed on this planet? What other surprises awaited?

Obiwan joined him. "I just got word from the Jedi Council. The Senate approved emergency measures to help with recovery and restoration. They will be sending out teams within 48 hours." A pause. "We've been ordered to stay until they arrive."

"That means another week, at least," Anakin noted.

"But with good reason," Obiwan said. "Once the Separatists realize they've lost a ship, they might send someone out to look for it. There could still be trouble."

"Master."

Both Jedi turned as Ahsoka came striding towards them.

"What is it, Snips?" Anakin asked.

"Don't you think it might be a good idea to send our troops from the crash back up to the Resolute now? They should all get medical scans, and I'm sure they're tired after all they've been through. They need some rest," she suggested.

"In a while, Ahsoka," Anakin replied. "I don't think you could get any of them to go right now." A pause. "How were things going at the temple?"

"Slowly," she said. "The stones used to build that thing are much more massive than what was used here. Some of them are as big as a gunship, and they were knocked down when the roof was blasted in."

"You stay here," Anakin ordered her. "I'm going to go check out things at the temple." Even as he spoke, he noticed the Doma extricate herself from the area where the brothers and sisters had set up an emergency medical site. She weaved her way through the piles of excavated rubble and headed off on a path that led into the woods in the direction of the Taber.

Not a minute later, he saw Rex break from where he had been standing by with Colonel Hexxat, helping direct the engineers work. He took the same pathway into the woods.

Maree stopped for a moment to splash water on her face at a stone trough along the path. She was filthy, dripping with sweat, a bit bruised and scraped, and more exhausted than she had ever been. When she took a moment to wipe the water from her face,, she noticed her hands were shaking – not with fear or anxiety, although both were present – but from fatigue.

The adrenaline that had carried her through the attack was ebbing, and now she was operating on sheer determination. She had seen the work the Republic forces were doing at the assembly hall, and she felt confident that she could leave the scene in their more-than-capable hands to go take stock of what was happening at the Taber.

She was almost fearful of seeing the full extent of the damage and even more afraid of discovering what her moment of indiscretion on the battlefield might have led to.

She straightened up and prepared to continue on her way.

"Maree."

She felt her pulse quicken at the sound of the voice – the only voice she wanted to hear at that moment, the only voice that could dispel the weariness. Turning, she saw Rex walking towards her at a brisk clip.

The captain did not hesitate, did not falter, but crossed the remaining distance and put his arms around her. He did not need to ask permission. He did not need to question whether this was the appropriate gesture. It was how he felt and what he needed to do.

He needed it.

He felt her arms encircle him, her hands clutching the back of his tunic. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, and for a very long time, neither of them spoke or moved.

Under different circumstances, Rex might have marveled at the way it felt to be in such intimate contact. He might have cast aside the prohibitions both he and the Doma were bound to uphold. He might have taken the next step, knowing full well that there was no future for them together.

But instead he just . . . held on. It was all he could do.

Their meeting earlier, in the presence of the generals, had been, of necessity, reserved and formal. But it had not been easy.

For Rex, there was simply no denying it: whatever he was feeling for her was only growing stronger, and in the wake of disaster, he was torn between longing and guilt. Longing for something he knew could never be, and guilt over the results of his actions.

At length, Maree spoke softly. "I was afraid you'd been killed." Her voice was trembling. "I don't know what I would have done."

Rex held her tighter. "You shouldn't feel that way about me."

"It's too late," she countered. "I already do." She was silent for a moment. "I won't break my vows, but I won't pretend not to feel the way I do."

Rex swallowed. "That's not what I mean. I mean that . . . you shouldn't feel that way about me after everything that just happened. This is all my fault."

The grief in his voice was such that it made Maree draw back a bit and look up at him without comprehension. She was stunned at the pain on his face. "How is this your fault?"

"Because I—I should have taken my men and left after the Separatists came the first time," he replied. "I knew they wouldn't give up that easily, that there was a good chance they'd come back. I should have left . . . but I . . . I put my own . . . I made a bad decision."

Maree had not been expecting this – certainly not from Rex, whose self-assured manner had seemed to be one of his defining characteristics.

"Rex . . . if you are to blame, then I must share in your guilt – and with a greater part," she offered. "I'm the one who begged you stay. You wanted to leave. I remember we argued over it, and I convinced you to stay. If you are guilty, then so am I."

But Rex shook his head. "It was my decision, and it was a bad one. If we'd left, the Separatists never would have come back here. Au-Gehen never would have felt threatened, and he never would have turned us in."

Maree listened to him, then she reached up and took his face gently in her hands.

"You are not to blame," she insisted. "I am not to blame. Rex . . . this is the sort of tragedy that happens in a galaxy at war. Decisions made for the right reasons could result in defeat. Decisions made for the wrong reasons could result in victory. Not every outcome is in our hands. You understand that, don't you?"

He did not reply, didn't know how to reply. Instead, he pulled her close again, as if the only comfort to be found was in her embrace.

"I would not change any of my decisions," Maree whispered into his ear. "I would choose you and your brothers again . . . without hesitation."

"How can you be so . . . accepting of what's happened?" Rex asked, but not in an accusatory manner. He simply could not comprehend how she could present such a detached assessment when he knew that she was a woman of feeling. "Many of your people died because of this—"

"Because a ship filled with Republic troops crashed in the desert, and we took them in. Rex, that is what we do. And when I say I would do it again, I would do it again. We all would."

Rex absorbed her words, but he found little comfort in them. At last, he asked, "Can we stand here a while? I just want to stand here."

It was a brave request from a strong man, a man who never let his weakness show in front of his brothers or his commanders.

And Maree knew it what it had taken for him to come to her like this.

She raised her head and kissed his cheek.

"For as long as you want," she replied.

A few more seconds, and Anakin would feel like a voyeur.

He'd not meant to spy on his captain. In fact, he'd come upon the scene quite unexpectedly. Well, that wasn't completely true. After all, he had seen Rex go off down the same path the Doma had taken, and his curiosity had perhaps gotten the better of him.

His ostensible purpose in setting off behind them had been to go see how things were progressing at the Taber. But he would be lying to himself if he did not admit that part of his decision-making process had been driven by the desire to know if Rex had roamed perhaps a bit too far afield.

Whereas moments earlier, he'd tried to convince himself it was none of his concern; now he found himself doing the opposite. Why, it was a legitimate concern! At least, he told himself it was. In the hours since the battle had ended, Anakin had had plenty of time to talk to the brothers and some of the sisters and learn about their beliefs and their lives. And the one thing that had struck him – because it so resembled his own situation – was the vow of celibacy under which the orders lived. It reminded him of the Jedi Order's prohibitions against attachment, and his own disregard of that proscription.

To Anakin's mind, if Rex were contemplating some sort of liaison with the Doma, it would be doubly exclusive, for he was not free to pursue her, and she was bound by her own vows not to pursue him.

And on a purely selfish level, Anakin needed his captain. He needed Rex to be fully engaged, fully focused. He needed his perseverance and never-say-die attitude. But most of all, he needed the one and only man—clone or otherwise—on whom he could count for sound advice. He could bounce his most insane ideas off Rex, and while Rex would almost always be in agreement, he had the knack for tweaking a scheme just enough to make it doable. Rex was one of his foremost confidants, for there was never any question that Rex would pass on even the smallest tidbit of information. Rex was tight-lipped, despised gossip and scuttlebutt, and offered the sort of good, solid, manly advice that Anakin found in short supply among most of his acquaintances. He wasn't judgmental, like Obiwan. He wasn't on opposite sides of the political spectrum, like Padme. He wasn't still learning how to behave as an adult, like Ahsoka.

Yes, Anakin considered himself very fortunate to have gained Rex as his first-in-command.

He didn't want to lose him now.

At least, that was how he justified his decision on the path. He'd seen Rex and the Doma from a distance, embracing in a way reserved only for lovers; but as he watched from the cover of a clump of Sandstraw, he saw that this was a completely different kind of love from what he'd feared might be seeping into his captain's heart.

There might be an erotic component to it; but if so, it was not on display at the moment. No, it appeared to Anakin that the one thing being exchanged in the greatest degree was comfort. And it was not just that Rex was comforting and consoling the Doma; no, in fact, it seemed as if Rex were deriving the greater amount of solace.

Anakin could see and even sense—to some extent—the slackening of tension, the easing of grief; and he felt, for a moment, disappointed in himself that he had not recognized these things in Rex earlier. He felt grateful to the Doma for the consolation she was providing, but more so for the temperance she showed.

He stole back behind the Sandstraw and waited until they both moved off.

Then he continued on his way to the Taber.

"I don't—I don't—" Ajax sprung over the mounds of fallen stone and shattered glass. He didn't care when he fell once, then twice, even three times. He didn't care if he was acting unsoldierly. And he didn't care that hugging was not a "clone-like" manner of affection.

His brother was alive, and he was going to hug him.

Double Barrel was sitting on a small pile of debris, looking bemused and being tended by two sisters and a brother. He was certainly injured, but clearly not in any danger of dying.

"How the hell—how did you survive that?" Ajax asked. "We thought you were dead."

"I don't know how to explain it," DB replied. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You're alive . . . I'll believe anything," Ajax said.

"He did it," DB replied, jerking his head up and back to his right.

Ajax saw nothing in the deepening shadows behind him. "Who?"

"Up there on the wall."

Ajax looked again, and this time he sucked in a breath of astonishment. "Holy . . . "

A massive bird—an eagle—the size of a man was perched in a shallow recess in the wall where once a statue had stood but that now lay broken on the floor. The animal was translucent with a sort of dull light defining its shape.

"Yeah, that's what I said," DB replied. "At first, I thought I was imagining things, but everyone else sees him, too."

"What happened?"

DB winced as the sister applied a bandage over a bloody on his cheek. "I was about to take my shot when the whole place came down. We got hit with something. I don't know what, but the next thing I knew, I was going down and everything was going down with me." He shook his head. "You know we're trained to hang onto our weapon no matter what. Well, that's what I did. I was getting beaten to a pulp from all sides, but I hung on to that baby." He nodded towards his sniper rifle, propped up against the wall, safely out of the way. "I figured, I'm gonna die, but I'll be damned if I'll lose my weapon. Huh, how's that for logic? Anyway, suddenly I felt something grab me, and I wasn't falling anymore. I was going up. I tried to see what it was, but all I could make out was a lot of crazy movement, like wings flapping. Turns out I wasn't so crazy." He once again motioned towards the bird. "It was him. He took me back up to the top of another one of the towers and just stood there. I'll tell you, I was terrified out of my wits. But then Brother Au-Celso—he'd been with me on the parapet—he was still alive and trapped on the remains of the fall wall. He kept shouting at me to take my shot. So I did. I—I wasn't seeing too clearly, but I still took it." A pause as he looked at Ajax straight on for the first time. "Did I hit the target?"

"You sure did, buddy," Ajax affirmed.

"Eh, that's good." DB looked very tired. "I must have passed out after that, because when I woke up, I was down here being looked over by the sisters, and that bird was sitting up there."

"That bird . . ."

They all looked up at the sound of Doma Maree's voice.

" . . . is one of the souls I have been guarding."

Just a few notes. Beshan rabbit - the image I have in my head comes straight from the Uffington Horse hill image. Bigwig - Watership down all over the place, huh? And I do love Top very much, so I was glad to introduce him at long last. I also am fond of the scene between Rex and Maree at the trough (listened to lots of James Horner as background for that bit). As for the eagle - okay, full disclosure that this was inspired by my complete and utter infatuation with the DC Eagle Cam and the two eaglets that just fledged (Freedom and Liberty). These birds (American Bald Eagles) are so majestic, so devoted to their babies, it just moved me to tears to watch how beautiful they are. So, I had to find a way to incorporate them - and now they're here to stay!