Dear Reader, Thanks again to my reviewers, LLTC, OrangePotato, CRB35, FreedomPhantom, and to my followers (who are too shy to post a review! :-) ) Now, when you read this chapter (especially the end), just remember this is very long story, so don't have a conniption! The world has not come to an end! Peace, CS

Chapter 39 Forever to Be Alone

"You'll know how many times I've had wonder,
watching my soul rifting under.
Oh, I do love you, only as much as I can do.
The feeling's too strong now to undo.
Please never try.
Lover, please hurry home."

Forever to Be Alone
Justin Hayward

The trip back down to Bertegad and the Monastica was much quieter than usual.

Not that Cody had expected Rex to be conversational—he rarely was; but it was not like Rex to brood, and that appeared to be precisely what he was doing. The two of them were in the rear of the gunship, Cody holding onto the overhead grip, Rex leaning back against the fuselage with his arms crossed over his chest, helmet hanging from a belt clip.

Closer to the front of the troop bay, Generals Kenobi and Skywalker were discussing some matter—probably the new mission—and in between the generals and their clone officers, a half dozen or so troopers returning to the surface made a good barrier.

Cody liked to exercise discretion whenever possible, yet he knew that the Jedi had a way of overhearing that which was meant to be private. Sometimes, he wondered if they could read lips . . . or minds.

The handful of clones between them gave him the cover he needed.

"You still upset about what General Whichum said back there?" Cody asked.

"Maybe . . . a little," Rex answered.

He was noncommittal, and the commander picked up on that fact right away.

"Then what? I can tell something's on your mind."

After a brief hesitation, Rex replied, "I just thought we'd have more time here."

"What, three—four—weeks wasn't enough for you?" Cody jibed.

Rex drew in a long breath. "Too long . . . and not long enough."

Cody raised a brow and regarded him dubiously. "Are you trying to confuse me on purpose, or is there some point to what you just said?"

"It's amazing how quickly a man can grow to feel at home in a place," came the reply, spoken slowly and with careful attention paid to the choice of each word.

"By that, can I assume you're referring to yourself?" Cody posed.

"Not just me," Rex protested. "The others felt it, too. I think we all did." A self-conscious pause. "Though some to a greater extent than others."

Cody grinned. "If you tell me you want to become an Austenien, I won't believe you."

"Huh, don't worry," Rex replied evenly. "I'm not going to tell you that. Even if the choice were mine to make, I'm hardly cut out for that kind of life."

"Do you wish you were?" Cody prompted.

"No, no," Rex answered, with a mock scowl to furrow his brow. "I might admire them and the life they have, but it's not for me." A pause. "It isn't what I want."

Cody regarded him thoughtfully. "But you're not ready to leave. Why? I know you better than anyone, Rex. There's not enough action here to keep you satisfied for even half a day. I thought you'd be the first one onboard to get out of here – no matter how beautiful and peaceful it is. You've never been a peaceful man, Rex. What's going on?"

Rex shook his head. "It just . . . caught me by surprise."

"What?"

Rex gestured subtly towards the other occupants of the gunship, making it clear he did not want to take a chance on anyone overhearing their conversation.

Cody nodded his understanding.

This discussion – whatever it was about – would have to wait for another time.

But, knowing Rex, Cody suspected there was a good chance the subject would never be broached again.

"One of us should still attend the funeral ceremony," Obi-wan stated. "It's the proper thing to do. And the clones who crashed here should have the choice to attend, if they desire. We need to put everyone else to work getting ready to redeploy."

"Agreed," Anakin replied. "But I think we can both attend the ceremony. I can put Top in charge of redeployment. He'll get them started. We don't have much heavy equipment down here, except for what the engineers brought, and Admiral Yularen already said he'd leave one battalion. So, that's a lot of stuff we won't have to pack out. I think it's important to show our appreciation for what these people have been through on our account."

Obi-wan considered. "I agree. I think Top can manage things. Let's see how our newest ARC trooper handles responsibility."

Anakin gave a cheeky grin. "He'll have them packed out in five minutes."

"I don't doubt it."

The funeral procession left from the Taber, where the engineers had halted their work out of respect for the solemnity of the occasion.

Two Shempa, festooned with colors not usually associated with mourning—reds and oranges and yellows—led the way, followed by 53 Losla-drawn carts, one for each decedent and attended by those closest to the dead. Behind the Losla, Doma Maree walked with Au-Mikiel at her side.

Generals Kenobi and Skywalker were next, accompanied by a host of brothers, Au-Raphe among them, and behind them came the rest.

The clones, while near the front of the throng, mixed in with the crowd, with the brothers and sisters they had come to know: Au-Josat, Au-Trava, Au-Cepha, Au- Sinti. Echo walked between Sister Anaide on one side while holding Yusani's hand on the other.

Au-Ogusta walked with Rex and Cody.

The commander had already informed him of their accelerated departure.

"Then this will be a doubly sad day," the brother lamented. "We will be sad to see you go."

"We'll be sad to leave," Rex replied with such genuine gravity that it made Cody take notice. "Your people have been very good to us."

"I only wish there was more we could do," Ogusta sighed.

If Cody had been surprised at Rex's tone, the captain's next words almost stopped him in his tracks.

"Just keep praying. That's good enough."

Cody had certainly taken Rex at his word when he'd said he hadn't suddenly turned religious. But now, more than ever, he was convinced that something had happened during his absence that had . . . tempered his friend's impetuousness, softened just a bit—just a bit—of the bravado. Could it be tact and diplomacy he was witnessing? A newfound willingness to show some small part of the emotion he hitherto always kept hidden?

Almost as if sensing Cody's bafflement, Rex spoke sideways to him. "Something on your mind, Commander?" It was almost a challenge . . .

. . . and Cody never backed down from a challenge, though he was not opposed to deferring one.

"Nothing that can't wait," he replied.

They continued on past the Wayward Houses and the residences, even past the Doma's residence. In the northwestern most corner of the Monastica, they came to a vast structure, a mausoleum, with a large half-circular area before it, large enough to accommodate a sizeable gathering.

Rex had seen the place before in his wanderings, but he'd not asked what it was.

Now, he knew.

As the carts were drawn up in front of the great main doors, the mourners began to gather around the perimeter. Rex and Cody stood not far from their generals.

Au-Mikiel then began to sing a somber requiem melody in the words of his native tongue. As the others joined in, the Republic contingent listened respectfully.

For Rex, there was something both hauntingly beautiful and tragically melancholy about the tune. If it were meant to mark the end of one life and the beginning of another, he felt that he had a certain understanding of the idea.

As his eyes turned to Doma Maree, standing on the raised dais atop one of the Shempas, singing the same lilting song as the rest, looking composed and pious, he knew that the part of his life wherein she resided was nearly over. In less than eight hours, he would be once more aboard the Resolute, on his way to war, likely never to return to this place.

These past four weeks – these had comprised a whole different life that he'd never known existed, that he could not have even imagined.

And all centered around the feelings he had for one woman.

A woman he would leave behind in eight hours and never see again. A woman with whom he'd known from the start that he could never have a romantic relationship. Even if he'd been free, she wasn't. He'd known that! He'd known, and he'd shrugged it off, allowing himself to fall further and further into a dream-filled mire of 'what-if' and 'wouldn't it be nice'.

His own will power had proven woefully insufficient to stop him from falling in love—

"Damn! Falling in love . . . "

Yes, that was what he'd done.

The image arose unbidden in his mind of the Me'Ente Loge festival, dancing with Maree.

"I believe falling in love would be impossible to avoid, if it is meant to be."

That was what she said to him. Prescient words, indeed.

"In what capacity a lover chooses to act upon that love is another matter altogether."

There. She had given him an out . . . or given herself an out. They both knew they had no future together, regardless of what course the war took.

"But she needs to know," Rex told himself. "She deserves to know. And . . . I need to know."

He could not account for why he was making such demands. In fact, his reason told him that the best thing would be to put the whole thing behind him and move on – for both their goods. Yet, the part of him that insisted on decency and full disclosure refused to allow it.

"Full disclosure . . . you won't even let your guard down around your own men. You keep so much hidden from them, why should this be any different?"

He answered his own question, but not to his liking.

"Because the men see right through me. But . . . does she?" He felt his shoulders sag under an unseen weight. "I'll be damned if I'm going to leave here without finding out. We may not be able to do anything about it, but . . . I want to know."

Maree had presided over many funeral ceremonies. And she had given every one of them her full attention, including this one. There were hymns and chants and the internment rites. Au-Mikiel gave a moving speech of the anticipated Finirest of the souls and the idea that the soul had not left the body, but rather that the body had left the soul. The body had come to its end, while the soul continued on.

Maree listened to his eloquent words—she always loved hearing Au-Mikiel speak. He was truly one of the holiest men she had ever known. And one of the most compassionate. As she listened to him, she allowed her gaze to wander over the gathered crowd, but more than a few times, her eyes returned to Rex, standing near the front, beside General Skywalker.

She had never seen him in his full armor before—when she had first encountered him in the healing rooms, he had already been stripped down to his body glove. And now, this first look had taken her breath away. Where she had considered him to be a very fine figure of a man before, what she saw now was so striking, so brilliant that the brightest gem could only mourn its dullness in comparison.

Here was the soldier with which he so identified. Here was the source of his pride, the motive for his conviction.

Here was the clone captain, first-in-command of the elite 501st Battalion of which he spoke with such fervor and covetousness.

He was no longer just Rex . . . or even Captain Rex.

He was the pinnacle of what it meant to be a clone officer.

"That's who he really is," Maree remarked to herself, allowing a moment's distraction. "He's . . . he's stunning."

At length, the funeral concluded, and the crowd slowly began to disperse on its way to the pavilion, where the celebration of life would be held.

Maree headed back as well, and she found herself shortly accompanied by the two Jedi generals and their firsts-in-command.

"Doma Maree, that was a very touching ceremony," Obi-wan said graciously. "Thank you for inviting us to be a part of it."

"I am glad you could attend, General Kenobi."

"As am I," Obi-wan replied. "But unfortunately, I'm afraid we cannot go to the celebration. We've received orders to be underway in eight hours. We must start preparations for departure."

Anakin looked at the Doma, trying to see if he could read anything in her reaction. Cody, on the other hand, was watching Rex.

But there was nothing for either of them to see.

"I am very sorry to hear that," Maree lamented. "Is there anything we can do to help you prepare?"

"I thank you, no," came the reply. "We'll be leaving one of the engineering battalions here until the recovery team arrives, and that should be in a day or two."

"Very good," Maree nodded.

Rex watched her. She betrayed no hint of sadness beyond that already expressed with regard to their departure, and Rex silently complimented her composure. He trusted his own self-possession was at least comparable.

"You will, at least, come to us before you depart, won't you?" Maree asked.

"Absolutely," Obi-wan replied. "I think none of the men would be happy if they didn't have the chance to say good-bye."

Maree looked to Rex. "You will know where to find us. We'll be at the pavilion."

Rex nodded.

With that, the Jedi and their men left the Doma and her entourage. Both groups had very different tasks to attend to.

Kix could hear them coming well before they even got to his room.

It could never be said that his squad mates were timid or quiet; and now that Top was there to round out the fold, a heightened sense of bravado and enthusiasm seemed to have returned.

His presence reminded them that they were still the best. Five clones alike in genetics but as different as the moons of Kandahar in personality and temperament. They were a family within a family, bound together by things more enduring and powerful than blood or oath. In their collective arrogance, they'd learned something about humility; and yet, that lesson was what continued to propel them to the top now that they were on active duty. The egotism they all shared . . . it was the face they showed; but it was not just a mask, for there was truth beneath it. Only now, there was so much more. They had grown together into a perfect fighting ensemble, and they all considered themselves fortunate to have landed under the command of men like Captain Rex and General Skywalker. It was as if their niche had been waiting for them.

The captain had commented often on the peculiar nature of their squad. Jesse: serious and calculating both on and off the battlefield, but with the occasional wild streak that set them all back on their heels. Hardcase, who lived, ate, and breathed weapons, ready to go head-to-head with any enemy any time, a hothead, to own the truth, but fully loyal to his captain. Pitch, perhaps the most unpredictable of them all, madly in love with explosives and turning things into rubble, but always steady and reliable. Top, who almost defied explanation, a superstitious, sentimental ground-pounder with nerves that never wavered, combat skills that never faltered, and an overbearing personality that could be brutish one moment and kitten-like the next. And then there was Kix: rational, thoughtful, compassionate—sometimes, too much so, according to the captain—he was the glue that held Saber Squad together, and they all knew it. Captain Rex had remarked more than once that, despite Jesse's leadership and level-headedness, there were times when the testosterone was in perhaps a bit too abundant supply and the squad members had deemed themselves indestructible – or something close to it. Kix had always been the one to remind them of their status as mortals. And while Kix normally detested those prone to headstrong braggadocio, in the case of his squad mates, he was willing to make an exception. Sometimes, he even allowed himself to be caught up in it.

Now, as they entered his room together, a smile formed on his face.

"We have come to take you back to the Resolute," Top announced with all the flourish and fanfare of a royal announcement.

"It takes all four of you to do that?" Kix poked.

"Apparently so," Jesse replied.

"Well, if I may be so bold, it only takes one ARC trooper to do the job—" Top began, but Hardcase cut him off.

"And us three to make sure he doesn't botch it up."

Kix shook his head. "I think you all may botch it up anyway." A pause. "I didn't think we were leaving so soon."

"Orders came in," Jesse explained. "The generals said we have to ship out in eight hours—six hours now."

"What's up?"

"We don't know yet." Again, Jesse answered. "We were only told to pack out everything and get ready to go. I'm sure they'll fill us in once we're underway. They're leaving one of the engineering battalions behind to help out until the recovery team gets here."

Kix nodded thoughtfully then he looked from one brother to the next in turn. "So, what, you were all detailed to pack me out? Seems you could be put to better use."

"We volunteered to pack out all our injured," Jesse informed him. "It's only a handful or so, but we wanted to do it."

"The Resolute has medical teams who can do that—"

"For frick's sake, would you try not arguing with us?!" Top bellowed. "I just finished overseeing that cattle drive out there for the last two hours while the generals were at that funeral ceremony! Now, I'm doing this, and—" He gestured towards Jesse, Hardcase and Pitch, "—so are they, so just sit back, relax, and let us pack you the hell out of here!"

Hardcase and Pitch exchanged glances of subtle amusement.

Kix smiled innocently. "Of course." A pause, and a glint of revenge shone in his eye. "But you know, I really can't walk yet, not very well or very far. You're going to have to find a way to move me. I think I'd be most comfortable if you found a . . . a nice platform sort of thing, you know, like they use sometimes to carry kings around—"

"What?" Top stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.

Beside the newest ARC trooper, Jesse spoke quietly as Kix continued with his list of demands. "You started this."

It didn't feel the same.

Not the same as it had during the Me'Ente Loge festival.

And the change was not owing solely to the difference in purpose between the two occasions. After all, the celebration following the funeral was supposed to joyous. The food, the music, the dancing . . .

Those in attendance appeared to be having a good time, recalling the lives of the deceased with fondness, humor, and some tears.

Maree moved from group to group, sharing in their recollections and contributing some of her own. But to her shame, her heart was not in it. At a time when she should have been focused on her people and their needs and their sorrows, she found herself thinking of her own sadness. It was like awaking from a dream, only to find that the reality had lost some of its sweetness.

Now, she almost felt as if the twilight through which she was literally passing marked the twilight of an era: the era before the arrival of the clones, before Rex. There was no going back. She could not un-know him. She could not pretend she had not felt something for him that went beyond the sort of agape love she felt for creation, in general. And now, she could not imagine a universe where he went about his life and she went about hers, never to meet again.

That was what the reality would be; but still, she could not picture such a future.

And it was better not to try.

The Creator would give her whatever grace and strength she needed to persevere. After all, it was the Creator who had brought Rex into her life. Whatever the purpose had been, Maree trusted that it would all redound to the good.

But that made it no easier.

She looked at the time piece that hung on one of the pavilion's corner pillars.

"Only three more hours . . . " For the first time in many years, perhaps centuries, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and crying in public was something she tried her best not to do. "No, this won't do . . . just step out for a few minutes. It will pass."

"Rex."

"Yes, General."

"Looks like we're just about done," Anakin observed. "Good job."

"Thank you, Sir."

Anakin mused to himself, "Yep, there he is. He's back. All business." Then, aloud, he loosened the reins a bit. "We've only got about three hours left. You might want to let your men have that time to say any good-byes. I know a lot of friendships were formed."

"Are you sure you won't be needing them, Sir?"

"We've got plenty of guys on the ground to finish up what still needs to be done," Anakin replied. "Cut your guys loose." A pause. "You, too."

"Thank you, Sir," Rex nodded. "There are some people I'd like to thank before we go."

"Be at the gunship at 2330 sharp," Anakin concluded.

"I will, Sir. Thank you, General."

He saw her leaving the pavilion just as he arrived.

Whereas a week ago, he would have exercised the greatest discretion in making sure he caught up with her; this time, he skirted around the outside, moving at a fast clip while trying not to look so urgent that he caused alarm.

Damn, but the pavilion was huge, and it was taking him a long time to get around it. When he got to the other side, Maree was nowhere in sight.

"Fek and all," came the rare curse, spoken under his breath. He ran a few steps to the entrance to one of the paths but saw no one. The next path had people on it, but not the Doma.

"She couldn't have gone that far," Rex told himself. "She's got to be nearby—"

"Captain Rex?"

Rex turned to see Au-Linus behind him.

"Are you looking for someone?" the brother inquired.

"Doma Maree," Rex replied.

"She just walked down Ellipse path," Au-Linus said.

"Towards the Seiba Tops?"

"I don't know if that's where she was going. But that's the path she took."

"Thank you, Linus." And then, despite his hurry, Rex realized he owed the brother more than this paltry thanks. "For everything," he said, holding out his hand. "You probably saved my life."

Linus grinned as he returned the handshake. "Oh, you weren't hurt that badly."

"But knowing me, I would have kept going until I collapsed," Rex countered. "I've been told I'm a pretty rotten patient."

"You didn't seem to be so very terrible here," Au-Linus replied. "I was glad to have been able to treat you. Caring for the soldiers who protect us . . . that was an amazing feeling."

"I think you and the brothers and sisters are the ones who are amazing. Thank you again."

"You'd better hurry if you want to catch the Doma. She could turn off that path, and it would take you forever to find her," Linus smiled kindly. "Safe journeys, Captain Rex. Be careful . . . and victorious."

Rex gave a single nod then headed off down the Ellipse path.

As soon as he was out of sight, he broke into a trot, hoping with each bend, that Maree would appear ahead of him. But after going nearly a half a klick, he realized she was not ahead of him anymore. There was no way she was moving that fast unless she was running . . . and that seemed unlikely.

"Oh, no," he groaned, stopping and throwing his head back in despair. "Where could she have gone?"

He turned around and began walking back, bemoaning the fact that General Skywalker's benevolence was apparently going to come to naught. The rest of his men would find their friends and say their farewells, while he would be reduced to five minutes shipside without even a moment of privacy.

"Rex!"

It was Maree's voice, coming from behind him.

He whirled around to see her emerging from one of the side paths; and whatever urge he might have been feeling to run towards her and put his arms around her, he tempered that desire with the composure he saw in the Doma as she approached him.

The darkness was increasing, but there was still enough light for Rex to see the sheen in her eyes as he held out his gloved hands.

She placed her own hands in his and smiled up at him—the kind of wilted smile of strength in the face of sadness.

"What's this all about?" Rex asked, raising one hand with hers still clasped within, to her cheek.

"Surely, you don't need to ask me that," she replied, still smiling.

"No, I . . . guess not," Rex replied.

An awkward silence fell between them before Maree spoke, and despite the wretched smile, she sounded sincere. "You look very handsome."

"Oh—uh, you've seen me looking like this before," he replied, not sure of what else to say.

"No, no, I haven't," Maree corrected. "When I first saw you in the examining room, you were only in the black suit. Your armor was already off." A pause. "And I must say . . . I thought you were handsome before, but this . . . you're not only gallant, you're dashing. When I look at you now, I feel like I'm seeing . . . the whole you. It's like . . . looking at the face of the sun."

Rex inclined his head in a gesture meant to be humble – even bashful. But the truth was, he was neither, and so the gesture was even more endearing, falsehood that it was.

"That's pushing it a bit far, don't you think?" he said.

Maree shook her head slowly. "No . . . Rex."

She was regarding him steadily.

"Waiting for me to say something . . . or do something." And Rex was never one to back down when the going got a bit rough. In fact, he relished a challenge and never failed to rise to the occasion.

"I thought we'd have more time together," he said, noticing how different it felt to hold her hands when he couldn't really feel them. The gloves that protected him also came between them. He didn't like that sense of separation.

"As did I," Maree concurred. She hesitated a moment, then added, "But does it really matter? A day or two? A week? Even a month? Anything less than eternity wouldn't be enough." She drew in a trembling breath. "And we—we will have eternity."

"But not the present," Rex concluded.

"No . . . not the present," she echoed.

"Then . . . I want to know something before we leave," Rex said, and he spoke in perhaps a more authoritative voice than he'd intended; but he was determined to maintain his stoicism. "Do you love me?"

Maree's expression softened. "You have a habit of asking questions to which the answer is already obvious."

"Maybe. But I'd like to hear you say it."

She almost laughed at his regimented manner. Perhaps it was his return to the armor that suddenly made him seem more aggressive, for there was certainly nothing halting or timorous in how he was acting. And for this, Maree was appreciative, for her own courage seemed to be lagging.

"I do love you," she replied. "Rex, I love you very much."

Rex appeared to be inside his head for a moment, coming to some kind of resolution. When he returned his gaze to hers again, he spoke with a sense of finality.

"Then I can wait."

"Wait . . . "

"Until eternity. If there is such a thing," Rex replied.

Maree stared at him. As the realization of what he was saying dawned on her, a sudden feeling of remorse took root deep inside her.

"Rex, that—that's not—I don't think you realize what you're saying," she stammered. "If you make such a pledge, it wouldn't be fair to you. There's no way you could maintain that kind of . . . separation from . . . " She took a step back, turned away, and shook her head, flustered. "You will meet women, and they will be free to love you in the way you . . . in the way you will want. And it stands to reason that when the war is over, you'll be free to love as you please, and . . . it isn't realistic or fair for a man to forego every other woman who might love him because he is waiting for—for—"

"For you." He put his hands on her shoulders and stood behind her. "I know what's fair and what isn't. And I may be a soldier who has to follow orders, but there are plenty of times when I make my own decisions. You won't be able to talk me out this. I don't want you to try."

Maree turned and found herself face-to-face with him. He was not backing down.

"There's no telling how long it will be before eternity is even open to the souls—"

"Would you be happy knowing I was out there and in love with another woman?" Rex asked bluntly.

"Once you leave here, I won't know what—" Maree replied in a feeble attempt to deflect the point.

But Rex was having none of it. "You know what I mean. Can you honestly tell me that you would be okay if I fell in love with someone else?"

Maree frowned. "No, of course not. But I would understand it, because the other part of that scenario is that I am not free to be with you in the way you—in the way you—"

"We can't have sex," Rex helped her out. "Yes, I know that. But you're the one who said that love isn't just limited to the physical."

"Not limited to; but Rex, you would—a man like you—you would want to have a woman who can love you in that way."

"Yes, that's true," he replied. "But I want you more." He looked directly into her eyes. "Listen, I'm conditioned to live under hardships, to do without all kinds of things. Whatever you decide, I've already made my decision. It would give me a lot more peace of mind to know you feel the same way."

"I . . . can only do what I can do," Maree said in a near whisper. "My love for you won't die, but I fear . . . with the . . . life that you lead, you may grow weary of waiting. If you do, I won't fault you for that. Rex . . . time alters all our feelings."