Trees in November

by CheckSix

A long story that ultimately focuses on the bond between Anakin and Rex. Part I: Returning from a mission, Rex and Cody's shuttle is shot down. They find themselves taking refuge in a religious community while both the enemy and their own forces search for them. Part II: A flashback to Rex and Cody's ARC days, the start of their friendship. Parts III and IV in separate thread.

122. Chapter 122

Dear Reader, Thank you to my reviewers: ichkak (congrats for reading all 119 chapters in a matter of days), moonwatcher, Cuthalion (who also deserves credit for re-reading almost the entire story), Akira-Hayama, Sued13, CT7567Rules, 124gp96cdx5, EeepEeep, Princess Rey-Tano, and Christina TM. To answer some of the questions I received: Yes, this story goes up to Order 66 and past it quite a bit. It will not be strictly canon. The storyline I had plotted out had its origination long before Rebels or Season 7. And while I will try to massage it a bit to make some of it fit, I will mainly be continuing on with my original storyline. I'm glad folks are liking my take on Fox. He's a lot of fun to play around with. Yes, the Bad Batch arc is included - it's up next, as a matter of fact. And I am very happy that Saber Squad is so well-received. There's quite a bit of them in this chapter. One last note of thanks to Christina TM for something she wrote in one of her reviews. She pointed out that I've been writing this story for 4 years! Wow! Who would have thought it would take me that long! She congratulated me for a story that did not rely on solely slash or angst. That meant a lot to me. I have no serious qualms about slash or angst - as long as a story is well-written. But I did make it a point to keep this story pretty much on the "Band of Brothers" level. Are there angsty moments? Yes, with the worst still to come (as you will probably get some hints in this chapter). I take my writing pretty seriously, so it was nice to see a comment about the writing itself in a larger, more general sense, as opposed to the contents of any particular chapter. Thank you.

Super-long chapter with some intense stuff. I put some notes at the end of the chapter, so as not to give anything away by commenting on it up front.

Enjoy! Peace, CS

Chapter 121 Going Blind

"And I know how it's to be.
There is nothing more for you and I.
Some are young, and some are free.
But I think I'm going blind."

Going Blind

Gene SImmons

---

Three days had passed since Fives' death.

Three days, but to Rex it seemed like one long, unending night of darkness which the daylight was unable to overcome.

There had been no memorial service. No remembrance. Nothing. Fives' death went the way of countless hundreds of thousands of clones. Unnoticed except by those few who had been close to him, of which there were even fewer left.

Rex could have put something together. He could have. But he would not. It was not right to memorialize one brother when so many others had gone to their deaths without anything more than a jot in the data base to indicate the end of their existence.

Rex had taken a bit of time to go find Pitch and welcome him back, along with a handful of other 501st troopers returning to duty from medical convalescence. But he spent most of the time in his quarters, replaying the conversation with Fox over and over again in his mind.

It still was inconceivable to him that the Chancellor could be behind the attack that led up to Fives' death. Fox had to be misreading the situation. Fox's men had injected too much of their own imaginations into what they had seen between Fives and the Chancellor.

"Damn, this makes no sense. Fox isn't the kind of man to form ideas without facts. Maybe someone else is putting these ideas in his head. Maybe the Jedi Council . . . " Rex stopped himself. His partiality towards General Skywalker colored his view of the Jedi Council, but that was no reason to suspect that they were party to any of what Fox had told him.

He went around for hours and still found himself no closer to any sense of understanding or resolution. At last, he willfully redirected his thoughts.

He needed something pleasant to take the place of the troubles that had been plaguing him.

Images of the Monastica wended their way to the forefront.

"Maree," he said aloud, as if speaking her name could force the darkness away. But even joyful memories of the woman he had grown to love were prone to the worries that weighed so heavily upon him, tainting his indulgence of thoughts of her.

Did she miss him? Did she think about him?

It occurred to Rex that she did not even know if he was still alive or not, unless her gift gave her some sort of insight. But it had seemed that her abilities were limited to the discernment of illness and injury, and the ephemeral relationship with animals of which Rex admittedly had very little understanding.

Damn, he didn't even know if she was still alive. But . . . what was one more year in the life a woman who was over 1,500 years old? Surely, she was still alive.

"What would you think of all this?" he asked the silence. "What would you say to me about everything that's happened?"

But the truth was, it wasn't her counsel he wanted. It was the comfort she offered, the love with which she had surrounded him. The touch of her hand on his face. The feel of her body in his embrace.

"I miss you . . . I miss you," he moaned, lying back on his bed. "I wish there was a way you could be here right now."

He was so exhausted.

So exhausted.

He was there on the verge, the hazy world between wakefulness and unconsciousness, when an indistinct sound inserted itself into that world. Several more intrusions, and Rex recognized this was no mysterious phenomenon. No, there was some commotion going on in the hallway.

"Stop trying to—you can't—you're not in charge here! Hey! What the—"

"Woah! What—how—man, this is messed up!" There was a mirthful bout of laughter. "He is in charge!"

"The captain is going to—no! Ow!"

There was a loud crashing sound against the door to Rex's room.

What the hell was going on out there? Rex crossed the room in four strides and opened the door, fully prepared to act as the surly man who's just been shaken from an almost-sleep.

Before him, on the floor, back against the opposite wall, DB was rubbing his shoulder, scowling and muttering to himself. Beside DB, Ajax straightened up at the sound of the door opening and now stood wide-eyed and speechless at the appearance of the captain, as if he'd been caught out at something he'd hoped would remain unnoticed.

"What is going on out here?" Rex demanded.

Neither trooper gave any reply, but when both of them shifted their gaze down the hallway, Rex followed their lead.

Now, this was a surprise.

There stood, not more than five meters away, the translucent figure of an eagle.

The eagle.

There was no doubt where he had come from, but how and why were legitimate questions.

Rex, eyes still trained on the massive bird, spoke to Double Barrel in a voice that all 501st troopers had come to recognize as the captain's "you'd better have a good explanation for this" tone.

"Your companion is making a personal appearance?"

"He—he's not dangerous, Captain," DB replied, getting to his feet. A sneer twisted his expression as he directed his next comment, an accusation, towards the eagle, "Except when he doesn't get his way," his voice rising at the end of the sentence.

The eagle screeched, an ear-piercing sound.

Rex cringed. To DB, he chastised, "Don't make him do that again. Just tell me how he ended up like this, where we can see him. And what are you all doing here outside my quarters?"

"On my word, Sir, I don't know," DB replied. "He insisted on going to you, and . . . krebs, once he makes up his mind, he just drags me along with him. I tried to stop him, but he got me all the way here and then just . . . did that." He nodded at the visible form of the eagle. "He's never been visible like this before. I can hear his voice inside when he wants to speak to me. I can even see through his eyes when I want to. But I've never had him . . . pop out like this—"

Another screech.

"Manifest?! Pop out?! What difference does it make?!" DB shot back, making it obvious to Rex that he was able to decipher words from the eagle's cries. "You're here! Isn't that what you wanted? You're here. There's the captain! What was the point of all this?"

Ajax, standing behind his friend, could barely suppress his laughter. "Take it easy, DB," he said, placing his hand on his shoulder. "Let's see what happens."

Rex took a slow, cautious step towards the eagle, mindful of the sharp, powerful beak and razor-taloned feet. "Are you here because of what I was thinking?"

It was DB who replied. "He says . . . he, uh, oh . . . " He flushed red. "He says he knows you were thinking about . . . the keeper, and uh . . . "

"Go on," Rex prompted.

"He did this as a sign," Double Barre went on, perplexed. Then to the eagle, "A sign of what?" There was a silence, then DB challenged, "That doesn't make any sense. You have to be more clear than that."

"What did he say, DB?"

"He just said he was here as a sign of reassurance."

Rex smiled slightly. "It makes perfect sense." A pause. "How did he know what I was thinking?"

Double Barrel appeared extremely uncomfortable with being the interpreter, as it were. "He says he inhabits two worlds now. He is back in Finirest, and he's here . . . with me. He doesn't know what you're thinking; he only senses when . . . the souls or the keeper are being . . . reached out to. I don't even know what that means." He looked mortified, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Captain; I still haven't learned how to . . . interact with him." Then, in response to some unheard retort, he snapped, "I know it's been a year, but you don't make it easy!"

Rex stepped forward and put out his hand to touch the eagle's neatly folded wing. While he felt nothing solid beneath his fingers, where he came into contact, there appeared the same glow he had seen in other instances with the souls back on Bertegad. "I understand your message." A pause. "Is it from the Doma?"

DB replied, "He says it's from him."

"Can he—can you pass on a message to her?"

Again, it was DB who answered. "He can, if she calls him forth. He says . . . he has no power to leave Finirest. She has to come to him." DB grimaced at the mighty bird. "Oh, but you can push me around and bust out into the open any time you want here. How does that happen?"

Clearly, the eagle gave an answer that was pleasing to Double Barrel, because an indulgent grin came briefly into his expression.

"What did he say?" Ajax asked.

DB shook his head. "He's a flatterer, you know."

"What did he say?" This time, it was Rex who asked the question.

"Oh . . . he said the part of his soul that he gave to me gives him an added freedom." He smiled and sighed at the same time. "And it . . . helps him protect me."

Rex regarded the eagle with an admiration that he held in reserve for the very few.

"I'm grateful for what you've done here," he stated. "And . . . thank you for your message." Then he turned to Double Barrel. "He just might be the best thing to ever happen to you."

The eagle made a series of short chortles deep in his throat.

DB chuckled. "He says Ajax is the best thing because he can keep me in line. As if I ever get out of line." Then to the eagle. "I'm surprised you're not jealous. You're so critical of everything else—okay, okay, okay—you're just observant. Fine, fine—yes, I know you like Ajax. So do I, that's why we've been best friends all these years—okay, good. So, can you please . . . come back in here where you belong?"

The eagle dissipated in wisps.

"I, uh, I'll try to keep this from happening again, Captain—"

"No, it's alright," Rex replied. "He felt something and wanted to take action. I'm glad he did."

In fact, it was his unspoken hope that the spirit would find more paths to communicate. The eagle was resourceful, and it was here to stay as long as DB was alive. Maybe—just maybe—he could provide a conduit to the Monastica.

And Maree.

---

"Doma, the courier has arrived."

Maree looked up from where she going over some documents sent over from the school. Au-Mikiel stood in the doorway with an opened letter in his hand.

"Something interesting?" she inquired.

"Another letter from Au-Gehen, asking to be reinstated," Au-Mikiel replied.

Maree frowned. "I have written back to him each time, telling him that although I can forgive his actions, I can never trust him again. I will not permit him to return to the Monastica. It is your decision whether you allow him to continue to be active as an Austenien."

"I do not think he is appropriately repentant to return to his duties as a Fels," Au-Mikiel replied. "As you have seen, he expresses remorse for what he did, but there is no indication that he recognizes why he should feel that remorse. I trust my instincts, and they tell me that . . . had we not found out that he was the one behind the attack, he would never have told us the truth; and he would still be here."

Maree nodded. "I also trust your instincts." After a brief silence, she inquired, "Is there news of Sister So'Nodor?"

"Not this time," came the reply.

"Her penitential assignment is over now," Maree noted. "I've been expecting word from Sister Banneh on how it went. The last update, Banneh told me So'Nodor wanted to continue on as a Sister." A pause. "I would have to interview her again to discern whether or not she is still suited to be a Sister. But even if she remains, she will not go back into the teaching field. There are other roles she can fill."

Au-Mikiel agreed. "Her culpability is nowhere near approaching that of Au-Gehen. She will probably still be able to serve the Order in some other capacity." He paused. "It is hard to believe that a year has passed since the clones left."

Maree smiled. "It feels like a hundred years. A thousand. I miss them."

"We all do," Mikiel replied. "It's surprisingly difficult, not knowing what's become of them."

"Yes, I know." She rose from the desk. "Shall we walk?"

They went out into the cool of the early evening.

"It's been very tempting," Maree began without prompting.

"Tempting?"

She looked askance at him. "I know what you're wondering, and yes . . . it's been very tempting. The eagle comes often to the surface. I could easily inquire of him, but I learned my lesson. I will not misuse the souls again. When the eagle comes, I make sure he knows not to speak of them."

When Mikiel did not speak, Maree posed, "That's what you were wondering, wasn't it? If I've been keeping tabs on them through him?"

"Indeed, that's exactly what I was wondering," Au-Mikiel smiled. Then he grew a bit more serious. "After all this time, I wonder that you still are against informing them about the abnormality in the brain tissue. You could use the eagle to do that."

Maree was pensive. "I am not against telling them what we found. I am against using the souls to do so."

"But you haven't even sent a messenger to Heembab to send a message to them," Mikiel pointed out. "May I ask, why?"

"Perhaps for the clones . . . perhaps it is not an abnormality," Maree replied. "They seemed perfectly normal; and in fact, other than their injuries, they were in amazing physical condition. What if what we found is . . . a part of their makeup? What if it's supposed to be there? What if, in using the cold field, we undid something that was supposed to be there? You and I spoke about this very possibility when the plats were first discovered."

"The only way to know is to inquire," Mikiel pressed.

Maree considered. After several seconds, she conceded. "If you wish to send a message, I am not opposed."

"But . . . you will not send it?"

"It would not be fitting."

Mikiel reached out and took her hand in both of his as they continued walking. "You have been trying to make atonement all these months. Do you not believe the Creator has forgiven you already?"

She regarded him with the sort of knowing gaze shared only between people who have known each other for many years of close acquaintance. "I know my weaknesses. My continued atonement is meant more to . . . combat the longing."

Mikiel smiled kindly. "Longing is natural – and in this case, not a sin, as long as you do not act on it. And . . . being that the captain is not here, you cannot act on it."

"Not a day goes by that I don't think of him," Maree admitted. "All this time . . . I have wanted to be with him."

"Have you found a greater love than that which you have for the souls?" Mikiel asked.

"It's a different kind of love," she replied. "I don't see one as greater than the other." A sigh. "I just wonder . . . is it fair that I let him agree to wait? Doesn't he . . . doesn't he deserve love in this life?"

"He has love in this life," Mikiel replied. "I am surprised that you seem to be thinking only in the carnal sense, Maree."

She turned a wry eye on him. "I am not thinking in only a carnal sense. I am thinking in the full sense of what it means to love him, loving him the way a man should be loved."

"There is nothing about Rex – or the clones – that is the way it should be," Mikiel pointed out. "Their creation was unnatural, and the purpose for their existence is unnatural. Their aging process is unnatural. And the vast majority of them will spend their entire lives fighting and dying, without ever knowing the love of which you speak – the love a woman has for the man who captures her heart. The fact of their exceptional character isn't a result of their engineering; it's a result of the love they have for each other as brothers. That is the natural relationship for them. When you say what a love should be, for them, men who were created for only one purpose, the greatest love they can have is for each other, because it is most likely, the only love most of them will ever know." He stopped walking and faced her. "The captain risked stepping outside what was natural for him. He is a man who knows his own mind and is perfectly able to stand by his own decisions. Have greater faith in him. He is a . . . rare soul."

Maree smiled. "That he is."

---

When the Justice had left the battlefield of Ringo Vinda, the 212th contingent had transferred all their ships, equipment, and personnel to the Challenger, the largest remaining ship in the battle group.

It also happened to be the home of the 808th and Jedi General Shyfa's flagship.

Rex had fully expected that when the 212th returned, they would take troop and cargo transports; so when he entered the operations bridge of the military docking facility and took in sight of the Challenger being guided in, he was pleasantly surprised. He watched for the next fifteen minutes as the massive battleship proceeded slowly down its "runway", coming at last to rest in its docking clamps just outside the hangar doors.

Venator-class warships were perfectly capable of planetary landings, but they needed a lot of real estate. And there wasn't a hangar large enough to house one on any planet, anywhere. Even in the shipyards where they were manufactured, final assembly, of necessity, took place fully outdoors.

The Republic had made sure, when the war had begun, that the military docking facility on Coruscant was upgraded to accommodate up to four of these amazing giants. One berth was already occupied at the moment by the Justice. The Challenger now claimed her stake in the adjacent berth.

Rex enjoyed watching these behemoths in action, so he stayed until the last latch was attached and the clear given for disembarkation. Then he made his way down to the hangar through which the personnel and equipment would be offloaded. He stood off to the side, watching the ship's main and several lesser loading ramps lower. Then came the deluge of men and machines, weaponry, various and sundry cargo.

While these sort of logistical scenarios were not exactly Rex's idea of excitement, he had to concede that he did enjoy watching just how much could come out of a star cruiser; and it increased his appreciation for the skills of troopers like Puzzle, who oversaw the same type of operation on a much smaller scale. He also was surprised at the state of some of the equipment being offloaded. Fighter craft that had taken such severe beatings that Rex wondered how they had ever made a safe return back to the Challenger; Larty's with blackened and pitted armor, unable to move under their own power, that had to be lifted off the ship by cargo cranes; a heavy-duty conex-sized storage container marked, "SPARES". He knew what that was: the pieces of salvageable armor from troopers who hadn't made it.

So busy was he surveying the steady flow of contents being disgorged by the mighty vessel that he did not notice General Shyfa's approach.

"Captain Rex."

Rex shifted his gaze and rendered a salute. "General Shyfa."

"It's good to see you again," the general stated, adding with ambiguous humor, "Have you come to help us off-load?"

Rex, not sure if the general were being serious or not, replied neutrally, "If my help is needed."

Shyfa chuckled. "Far be it from me to interfere in the realm of load masters. I would not want to get in their way. You know how they can be. And I feel confident they have everything under control, though if they are short on manpower, they might recruit you – captain or not."

"Actually, I came to meet Commander Cody and the 212th," Rex replied.

"They'll be coming down the ramp from landing bay 4E."

"Thank you, General," Rex nodded. "How is the 808th?" The manner and tone with which the question was asked told Shyfa that the captain was looking for the status of one individual in particular.

Shyfa provided the sought information without making it obvious that he understood the true crux of the question. "We had heavy casualties. Were it not for Commander Ki'weya and Captain Top, I think we would have lost many more." He scanned the hangar. "The captain was anxious to get to Coruscant. I think he was hoping the 501st would still be here and he could spend some time with his squad mates. He's out there on the floor somewhere, probably herding swillups." He looked back at Rex and nodded appreciatively. "I can never thank you and General Skywalker enough for encouraging him to take the reassignment. He is indefatigable – a work horse in every sense. And the men are completely devoted to him. I don't think anyone else could have rebuilt this battalion after our losses on Kettrun the way he did." A funny smile. "And the way he and Commander Ki'weya get on now; it's amazing. Always bickering, but . . . I would say it's a fast friendship. He's tempered Ki'weya in many ways."

Here, Rex raised an eyebrow. "It's hard for me to imagine Top tempering anyone. He's a firebrand himself."

"So he is. But it was that firebrand quality pushing back against Ki'weya's arrogance that somehow managed what I never could: temperance."

It was an interesting admission from the Jedi, and Rex felt it almost as a personal compliment. He knew, in Top, he'd had one of the most promising clone officers in the GAR. And he was pleased to hear that the sacrifice made by letting him leave the 501st had not been in vain and was much appreciated.

"He made the right decision, then," Rex concluded. "It wasn't easy for him to leave his squad mates. But he knew where he was needed."

General Shyfa nodded. "Give my regards to your men." And with that, he departed.

Rex raised his wrist comm. "Jesse."

A few seconds later, Jesse's voice came over the comm. "Jesse here."

"I need you, Kix and Pitch in the 4A main hangar. Fast as you can."

"Yes, Captain," Jesse replied. "What's going on?"

"Just get down here." He smiled at the opportunity to surprise them. And Top. He began walking towards the 4E hangar.

---

"Do you need any additional manpower before I release the troops for shore leave?"

"No, Commander, we're good. Besides, too many hands just get in the way and confuse things," Puzzle replied. "We'll have all this offloaded and marshalled to the holding area in a couple hours, tops. We, uh, don't have as much as usual."

Cody grimaced. "Yeah. We lost a lot on this last tour. Hopefully, they can get us some new equipment quickly."

"Well, if they send us back out the way we are now, we might come back with zero," Puzzle replied with a rueful humor in his voice.

It was a true statement despite its intent, and it needed no rejoinder.

"I'll leave you to it, then, Puz," Cody said.

"Right-o, Commander." A pause. "Looks like someone's come out to meet you, boss."

Cody followed his gaze and saw Rex approaching. He sighed in silent relief. "At least he's not in prison." Cody truly had not been sure what to expect upon the return to Coruscant. Knowing that Rex was the subject of an investigation, he had known the possibility of him being found guilty and incarcerated was quite real. To see him still out and about was encouraging. But he would need a closer to look in order to discern his true state of mind. Cody had heard, while in transit, of Fives' death. General Skywalker had contacted General Kenobi with the news. The whole thing had sounded very tragic, and Cody surmised that it must weigh heavily on Rex's shoulders.

He would know for certain in a few seconds.

As he walked across the hangar floor to meet him, he thought Rex looked rather tired, a bit worn down, but certainly nothing that would give him cause for concern.

"You came all this way just to greet me?" Cody grinned.

"Well, I . . . had nothing better to do." Rex's attempt at returning the humor was marginally successful; but Cody could hear the uneasiness beneath the words. "Besides, we're only in the next docking slip." Of course, that was true. It was also true that the next docking slip was over two kilometers distant. Large ships needed large berths.

"Huh, well, where's the red carpet? You could have at least done this right," Cody teased.

"If you want to wait here, I'll go see if I can round one up," Rex deadpanned.

Cody shook his head. "You're awfully dull, Rex," he said. He rested his hand on his friend's shoulder and they began walking back towards the rear of the hangar where a bank of doors led into the main facility. "Things have been hard, huh?"

"Yeah," Rex conceded. "Hard . . . and confusing."

"I heard about Fives," Cody said. "General Skywalker contacted General Kenobi, and he told me. I'm sorry, Rex. That had to have been a hard loss."

Rex made no indication of agreement or disagreement, opting rather to discuss some of the quandary surrounding Fives's demise. "He really, uh, went downhill fast once they got him here. He kept talking about chips implanted into every clone's brain—"

"The inhibitor chips."

"He didn't believe they were really inhibitor chips," Rex explained. "He thought they were there for some other purpose, to be able to control us clones."

"What made him think that?"

"I'm . . . not really sure. He removed his own chip while on Kamino, and I guess he broke into their data banks and saw some stuff that made him suspicious," Rex replied.

"I heard that, as a result of removing his chip, he started to melt down and attacked the chancellor," Cody stated. "Is that true?"

Rex hesitated, thought of Fox's words echoing through his head. "We should wait until we're not in a public area to talk about that."

Cody was perplexed. "Why? None of this information is close-hold. Just about everyone's heard about it at this point."

Rex lowered his voice. "You haven't heard everything."

This sort of secrecy was unlike Rex, but Cody figured he'd been through a lot recently. "Okay. Well, I'm anxious to get back to my own quarters on the Justice. How 'bout we head there now. That should be private enough."

Rex nodded.

They continued walking.

"Let me say that sleeping in a barracks module on someone else's ship . . . I'll never complain about my regular accommodations again," Cody went on briskly. "The new modules are better than the old tube stacks, but 30 men to a room . . . cold metal frame, floors, beds. You and I have it good. Our own rooms, private facilities . . . " He could tell Rex could not be less interested. So, he changed the subject to one he knew Rex could not ignore.

"Well, I see you're still a free man. What's going on with the investigation?"

"It's underway," Rex replied. "They appointed Admiral Tarkin as the investigating officer. He's already interviewed me. He only asked a few questions. I'm not sure where it stands right now." A pause. "After what happened with Fives, I . . . I haven't given it much thought."

Cody looked at him with scrutinizing eyes. Rex was still looking straight ahead, studiously avoiding any direct eye contact. But that did not detract from Cody's assessment. In fact, the avoidance in itself spoke volumes.

Something was amiss here.

And Cody was determined to get to the bottom of it.

---

"Is that . . . "

"Challenger!"

"Oh, it can't be . . . "

Through the glass of the outer corridor of the main facility, they could see the ship docked in 4B. And the thoughts that began racing through their minds swung wildly in all directions.

Challenger meant the 808th was back in garrison. And that meant Top.

But . . . Captain Rex had called them down here, and that could be to deliver good news or bad news. If something had happened to Top, the captain would want to break the news himself.

"Let's go down," Jesse said, and the three squad mates made their way down to the hangar.

There was no sign of their captain.

Jesse raised his wrist comm. "Captain Rex, this is Jesse. We're here in 4B but we don't see you."

Rex's reply came quickly. "I didn't call you down to see me."

Jesse grinned. "Understood, Sir." He turned to Pitch and Kix. "Let's go find him."

It turned out that finding their comrade was easy. Almost immediately, they spotted him standing at the top of Challenger's main cargo ramp, talking with none other than the infamous Commander Ki'weya. Then Ki'weya disappeared back inside the ship, and two clones emerged and engaged the captain in some other discussion that involved a lot of gesturing towards the marshalling area.

"Let's just wait off to the side, over here, until he's finished," Jesse said. "We don't want to get in the way. And if he sees us, you know he'll go all . . . "

"Top. He'll go all Top," Pitch completed the picture.

They moved over to a fair-sized alcove where dozens of defunct astro-mech droids were crammed in awaiting transport to a refurbishing facility.

Several minutes went by.

"He loves giving orders, doesn't he?" Pitch quipped.

"He just likes being in charge," Jesse replied. "And . . . he's good at it." Past Pitch, he saw Kix following Top's every move. He knew Kix's bond with Top was the strongest among them; and recalling Kix's reaction upon being reunited with Pitch, he was already envisaging what could happen here.

"You okay, Kix?"

Kix cast him a wry glance. "Of course."

At least another fifteen minutes passed.

"He's coming down," Pitch remarked as Top began descending the ramp. "I think we've waited long enough. Come on, let's go."

They stepped out of the alcove just as Top reached the bottom. But now it was harder to see him through the milling stream of moving equipment, cargo containers, and clone troopers.

"We'll be here forever if we wait for him to see us," Pitch harrumphed.

"Well, we can't go out there and get in the way—"

"Skulking about in corners?" This voice was not one of their own.

Whirling around, they were all stunned – and a bit embarrassed - to see Commander Ki'weya standing behind them.

"Commander Ki'weya," Pitch stammered.

"Yes, yes, it's me. I'm flattered you remember," Ki'weya replied, and there was still a hint of his previous dismissiveness, but also a sense of greeting and welcome. "I, of course, remember you. Well, two of you, at least." He looked at Jesse. "I don't recall you being on the Kettrun mission. You must be CT-5576. Jesse."

"Yes, Commander."

"Captain Top goes on and on about his squad mates to the point where I feel as if I, myself, have served with you," Ki'weya said. "You've come down here to greet him. Why are you over here?"

"We didn't want to interrupt," Jesse replied.

"Nonsense. The load masters could do this job in their sleep," Ki'weya insisted. "The captain is there only because, as you well know, he likes to be in the middle of everything. You will give him a reason to extract himself from the process, for which the load masters will be eternally grateful."

"We'll just wait until he sees us," Jesse said.

"As you wish," Ki'weya shrugged. But before he left, he looked at each one of them. "I know letting him go was a great loss to you. But if it makes any difference, his coming to the 808th was the savior of this battalion. And the most important friendship I could have ever asked for."

They were all moved by his words.

It was Jesse who replied, "It does make a difference, Commander. It makes a big difference."

And as Ki'weya walked away, perhaps their opinion of him had improved a bit.

Thirty minutes later, they were still standing there.

"Krebs, is he trying not to see us?" Pitch chuckled. "He's looked everywhere but over here."

Then in the instant of one small movement, one turn of his head, Top saw them.

For a brief moment, he appeared not to believe his own eyes. The next, he was striding across the hangar with his long, powerful gait. And his squad mates went to meet him.

It was very similar to the reunion with Pitch. Much hugging and shoulder gripping.

"You all came to see me, and I was going to surprise you!" Top burst out.

"Well, it was plenty surprise as it was," Jesse replied. "We only thought the 212th was coming back. We didn't know Challenger was coming in. The captain commed us and told us to get down here. He didn't tell us why, but once we saw the ship, we knew."

"This is fantastic," Top beamed. He turned to Pitch. "Pitch, Pitch, Pitch . . . my explosives man, it's such a relief to see you're okay. I wouldn't be able to tell anything had happened to you."

"I feel great," Pitch replied. "And I'm ready to get back out there and start blowing some tinnies."

"Eh, you sound like Hardcase," Top grinned.

The mention of Hardcase had not been without risk. Top had no idea how the others were dealing with his death. Did they ever talk about him? Or was his name off-limits?

In truth, Jesse and Kix had rarely mentioned Hardcase. The pain was still too close, too easily ignited. And nothing they could say about him could bring his memory any closer. So, they had carefully avoided talking about him.

Yet, in some warm, soothing way, mention of him now seemed . . . appropriate. Even welcome.

Pitch returned Top's smile. "Well, someone has to keep his spirit alive in this squad. Jesse is too serious. And we know Kix doesn't have that . . . maniacal streak Hardcase did. So, I guess it's going to fall to me."

Top laughed and draped an arm over Pitch's shoulders. "You'd have to get real crazy real fast." He saw Kix looking at him with a sanguine expression, and it perplexed him. He could usually tell exactly what was going on inside the medic's head; but not this time.

"LB?" He held out his other arm, and when Kix stepped forward, he now had a brother under each arm, and this suited him. This made him content. To Kix, he asked, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Kix replied with equanimity, "We missed you."

"Is that all?" Top pressed.

Kix rolled his eyes and shook his head. And while he gave no vocal response, inside he had plenty to say.

"Of course, that's not all, you dunderheaded kwa'lik. You know that. But you're the one who always tells me to keep myself in check. Do you want a demonstration here in front of everyone?" He couldn't tell him how good it felt to back in his presence, to feel his arm resting across his shoulder. There was a sense of . . . unity and protection that only Top could provide, and they all knew it. The fact that Kix and Top shared a special closeness had never rankled the other members of Saber Squad. They could trace its origins back to their formative days on Kamino. Top had, true to the moniker bestowed, always viewed Kix as a kind of Little Brother – hell, he'd viewed all of them as younger brothers, owing to his bigger-than-life persona – but Kix held a special place in his heart. No one begrudged them their friendship. And now . . . now, it was like Big Brother was home from the war on shore leave.

"How much longer you got here?" Jesse asked.

"Another hour or two," Top replied.

"You can't hand this off to the load masters? That is their specialty, you know," Jesse pushed.

"I know, but I . . . I like to stay until everything is off-loaded," Top explained. "Let them know they're doing a good job."

Pitch grinned wickedly. "Commander Ki'weya implied that you drive them nuts."

Top made a dismissive sound. "The commander takes things too seriously."

"He had some nice things to say about you," Kix put forth.

"I shouldn't wonder," Top sniffed. "I am a joy to work with." He squeezed Pitch and Kix closer for a moment. "But truthfully, he's been a tremendous officer. We've had our rough patches, but I'd trust him with my life."

"Far cry from Kettrun," Pitch pointed out.

"Isn't that the truth," Top agreed. "But . . . he had the right qualities all along. He just needed to . . . he needed some help him realize that being a Jedi isn't the only thing that matters in battle."

Jesse chimed in, "And you took it upon yourself to teach him that."

"I did."

They all shared a knowing smile, then Jesse, having once again regained the title of the prudent one, came up with a suggestion.

"We should leave you to finish up here, and what do you say, tonight we head out on the town?"

"I'm game," Top replied. "I'll buzz ya when I'm done here, enh?"

"We'll be waiting."

---

"Ah, that's better. I feel like a new man," Cody announced, emerging from the refresher, wearing a green-grey flight suit reserved for the off-duty use of the 212th's flying component. And its commander. "I don't remember when the last time was that I showered."

"If you don't remember, it's been too long," Rex replied. "Spoken by someone who's been there."

Cody gave a small laugh. "I think we've all been there . . . more times that we'd care to admit. The body suits do a good job, but even they can become . . . rancid at a certain point." As he said this, he tossed his own body suit into a metallic hamper in the wall. "Time to sanitize."

"You'll need to leave it in there for a week," Rex quipped.

"Maybe. But no problem. Got a clean one in my foot locker."

"Always prepared."

Cody decided to dispense with any more small talk. There was still something distant and cautious in Rex's manner and speech. Time to get to the bottom of it.

"So, what did you want to tell me that you couldn't bring up in the hangar?"

Rex did not reply. It was a rare moment, one in which the captain found himself at a loss for words. Or more accurately, it was not that he could not find the words; rather, he was not sure if he should divulge the doubts that criss-crossed his mind and fractured his opinions.

Sensing his friend's dilemma, Cody pressed, "What's going on, Rex?"

Rex leaned forward in the chair and clasped his hands in front of him. At length, he replied, without looking up, "I messed up, Cody. I messed up, and Fives is dead."

It was a stark pronouncement. And Cody was not convinced that it was even partly true, but he would need to do some probing to get more answers.

"Tell me what happened?"

After a long silence, Rex spoke tentatively. "It's true that Fives attacked the Chancellor. He was on the run and General Skywalker and I went to find him. It was actually Kix who told us where he was. Fives had run into him and told him he wanted to meet with us. Kix relayed the message, and that's how we found him. When we finally did meet up with him, he trapped us in a containment field. He was going on and on about some plot written into our genetic code and . . . " He looked Cody in the eye, his expression plaintive. "Cody, I thought he had lost his mind. I believed he had gone crazy."

"Go on."

"Before—before he trapped us, he told us to put down our weapons." A hard silence filled with self-reproach. "So, I did." He lowered his eyes again. "When Commander Fox and his troops arrived, Fives grabbed one of my pistols." He shook his head at the memory. "They kept telling him, 'don't do it'. But he didn't listen, and they shot him."

Cody narrowed his eyes. Some bit of information was still not forthcoming. "And?"

Rex swallowed. "As he was dying, he seemed to come back to himself," he replied. "He didn't seem delusional at that point. And that's when I realized—that's when I recognized—that what I had seen from him earlier wasn't . . . it wasn't the rantings of a man who'd gone crazy. It was the anger and hurt of man who believed he'd reached the end of the line. He had tried to get people to believe him, but no one would. He didn't lure me and General Skywalker to the warehouse to trap us. We wanted to meet us there so he could try and make his case." He sighed – tired and weary. "I didn't see that. I only saw a man who seemed to have lost his mind."

"Hadn't he?"

"Maybe he had," Rex said, as if it didn't matter. "But his delusion didn't put anyone in danger. It was—it was how the rest of us reacted to that delusion that put him in danger."

Cody was somewhat baffled by this account, and he decided to point out some of the inconsistency. "He put the Chancellor in danger."

Rex was silent.

"You don't believe that," Cody surmised.

Rex had to be careful here. For while he had not been able to accept Fox's explanation of how things had transpired in the meeting between Fives and the Chancellor, he also could not dismiss the continual pricking of his conscience since his chat with Fox. Was it possible that there were other forces at work here? Were there things going on behind the scenes that only someone in Fox's position might be privy to? It was possible – remotely.

Yet, Rex had promised Fox that he would not divulge the subject matter of their discussion to anyone. And even now, he considered that to be the proper course of action, given that he still found the commander's ideas to be on the borderline between preposterous and fiction.

"Rex?" Cody pressed.

What could he say? How could he explain all the things inside his head?

"I don't know what happened with the Chancellor," he replied slowly. "I have no reason to doubt the Chancellor's account of what happened." No good reason, at any rate. "But what if . . . what if Fives was right? What if there is something built into each one of us that has the potential to do to us what it did to him and Tup?"

Cody was circumspect. "It made them draw down against their friends," he replied quietly. "And in Tup's case, it resulted in murder. But those were unusual cases. Tup's chip malfunctioned. Fives removed his chip. There are millions of us with our chips intact, and we're all fine."

"Are we?"

"Two cases out of—how many now? Seven million men? I'd say that marks an anomaly. Nothing more."

"But what if . . . what if these chips are there for more than just regulating our aggressive tendencies?" Rex posed.

Cody tilted his head in curiosity. "What other purpose would there be?"

"What if, when the war is over and they no longer have any use for us, they have a way to activate these chips and we all die off." Rex bit off the end of the sentence abruptly. "They could pass it off as a mass infection that kills us all. And what if they engineered us so that any attempt to remove it would still result in death?"

Cody stared in stunned silence.

Rex went on. "It's a possibility, isn't it? Do you think the Republic wants to support however many millions of soldiers are left once the fighting stops? Can they afford to? Will we become a liability?" He got to his feet, but the small quarters gave little room for pacing. "I've wondered—and I know you have, too—what would happen to us when the war ended. We were created for one purpose. When that purpose no longer exists, what becomes of us? Even if they give us our freedom, how will so many millions of men be able to support themselves? We have those who would support our existence, but how long before all the others decide that we're too costly?"

"Rex . . . " Cody stayed seated. "Even ten million of us is barely a grain of sand when spread out among the star systems. Even on Coruscant alone, they could absorb all of us." A pause. "You have a point about not wanting to financially support our existence after a certain point. But are you forgetting that we're adaptable. We're intelligent. A clone could start a new life anywhere he wanted doing anything he wanted."

"And if they're afraid of us?"

"What do you mean?"

"We were engineered for war, Cody," Rex replied heatedly. "They had to put a chip in our brains to suppress our aggressiveness and make us more obedient. Would they consider it safe to allow us to integrate into different societies after the war is over? Or would they rather just . . . be rid of us?"

"And how do you suppose they initiate our demise? Flip a switch?"

"I don't know," Rex grunted.

"Rex, this is not like you," Cody chastised. "This sounds impossible."

"You don't know the half of it, Cody," Rex frowned, sitting back down.

"Then maybe you want to tell me the other half? Tell me something that makes sense of everything you just said."

"I can't," Rex replied. "I made a promise. And besides . . . the things you're saying to me are the same things I thought when . . . when someone else told me things I thought were . . . paranoia."

"Fives?"

"Not just Fives."

"Who?"

"I told you, I gave my word not to say anything."

The two sat without speaking while both wondered what to say.

At last, Cody spoke up. "I know things have been hard for you, Rex. And I suppose it's unrealistic for me to expect you to shake it off. I know Fives meant a lot to you, and I know you had some trouble with him on Umbara. But things went well after that, right? You both had come to an understanding by the time this happened. You had both regained each other's trust. He thought highly of you, Rex. I doubt he would have blamed you for his death."

"He told me . . . right before he died, he told me that he'd only wanted to do his duty."

Cody knew the protocol that demanded no ill be spoken of the dead, but a gentle reminder of the truth was once again in order here. "I'm sure that's true. And sometimes Fives' idea of duty went off on its own tangent. He knew the risks in his actions, Rex. That's one of the things we both admired about him, one of the reasons we made him an ARC trooper. He knew the risks and took them. Maybe that independent streak took him a bit too far in the end." A pause. "But there's nothing we can do for Fives now. That book has been closed. Your book is still open."

Rex cast him an arch expression. "That's pretty trite."

Cody remained serious. "I wasn't trying to be philosophical. I'm trying to move you out of this mindset you're in without having to be too brutal about it."

"Be brutal," Rex replied. "Sometimes that's the only thing that works."

"Brutal . . . okay." Cody fixed him with the glare of an older brother. "Get over it. Stop overanalyzing everything. Accept the fact that you and Fives had your ups and downs. And whether or not you want to believe your own actions played any role in his death, the bottom line is that it doesn't matter at this point. What's done is done. Your responsibility is only to the men whose lives you can still impact." He stood up and walked over to the small wall locker on the opposite side of the room. He withdrew a holo-frame, then walked back over and handed it to Rex.

In the frame was an image of Fives and Echo on the day they were made ARC troopers. Cody and Rex were also in the picture. It was a happy image. A joyful memory.

Rex hardly recognized his own visage.

Cody continued speaking. "Echo, Fives, Hevy, Hardcase, March, Jenber, Loader, Berra . . . I could go on for hundreds—thousands of names, Rex," Cody drove home. "And that would just be the 501st. Men die. Brothers die. People die. Civilians die. This is war, Rex." He regarded him earnestly. "You used to love it."

Rex raised his head angrily. "Hraka! I never loved war—"

Cody leaned close, a challenging glint in his eye. "You loved fighting. You loved winning. Getting to test your skills and your brains against the enemy was what you lived for – that and the chance to impress General Skywalker. You told me at ARC training that the goal of every training exercise was to win by whatever means possible, because that was the goal on the battlefield. You got a kick out of showing everyone that you were smarter, better, stronger, than your opponents. It didn't matter if you were going up against ARC trainees, clankers, or flesh-and-blood enemies. You were good at it; you knew you were good at it, and you made sure everyone else knew you were good." He took the holo-frame and set it on the desk. "You knew men would die. You expected it. You dealt with it. Yes, I know how you dealt with it - by trying to keep everyone at arm's length. I also know that didn't work. Worst-kept secret in the entire kriffing GAR. The officer who loved his troops so much that he had to pretend not to." He sat down on the table across from where Rex was sitting and actually prodded him in the chest. "You created an image for yourself, and your men have done everything they can to protect that image, because they know you can't bear the thought of them seeing you any other way. They revere you in the same way they revere General Skywalker. Rex, no one else could have pulled their battalion through what you did on Umbara. Despite Krell, despite Fives pulling in a different direction, despite a handful of your soldiers getting . . . lost for a spell, you were the one the rest of them looked to. I wasn't there, but I can't help but believe that the lieutenant I knew in ARC training must have stood up and said 'follow me.' You were meant to lead, Rex. You were meant to fight. And you were meant to lead men in fighting. If you're going to try and tell me you don't love that, I'm going to call you a liar. I'm not saying you love death. I'm not saying you love losing brothers. But you love using the skills you were bred with – more than just about any other clone I've ever met."

Rex had sat in silence and listened. He hadn't heard Cody this vehement in a long time.

"Are you done?" he asked in an unreadable voice.

"That depends," Cody replied.

Rex stood up and retrieved the frame.

On that day – the day of Echo and Fives' unorthodox induction into the ranks of the ARC troopers, Rex had praised their courage, their resourcefulness.

"Kind of reminds me of me."

Yes, that's exactly what he had said. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

"You're right," he conceded. "I do love fighting. Maybe that's the problem. It's getting harder for me to reconcile my love of fighting with the toll the war has been taking." A pause. "It would be easier if . . . if I knew what was going to happen to us after the war. Will all this have been worth it?"

"You'd have to be able to predict the future to answer that," Cody replied. "Even the Jedi try not to go there. General Kenobi says the future is always in motion, and trying to foresee events is an unsure proposition."

Rex considered. "General Skywalker foresaw the death of his mother. His visions were accurate."

"He told you that?"

"He wasn't trying to see the future," Rex replied. "They were dreams. But to him, they were messages. He said that by the time he got to Tatooine, she was close to death. She died in his arms. He won't say anything more about it . . . not to me, at least."

Cody regarded him curiously. "You're not thinking of asking General Skywalker to try and look into the future, are you?"

Rex scowled. "Of course not."

"Good." Cody got to his feet. "But I can predict the immediate future."

Rex looked at him expectantly.

"We're going to go out to one of the local establishments and celebrate Challenger's homecoming," the commander announced.

Rex also stood and spoke truthfully. "That sounds good to me. And uh, why don't we call on Commander Stone, see if he's available? I stopped by to see him a few days ago. I'd forgotten how much fun he is. Besides, he knows the city like the back of his hand. He can get us into the best places."

Cody nodded. "Then let's pay a visit."

"I hope he's off-duty."

---

"Class B's, chaps."

"Class B's? What? Are you—why Class B's?" Jesse protested.

Pitch scratched his head. "Do I still even have my class B's?"

"You're all pathetic," Top scolded. "The four of us together tonight is a great occasion. We're going to look classy."

"Classy . . . for 79s?" Pitch inquired. "Seems like a waste, doesn't it?"

"79s is full of desk jockeys in Class B's," Jesse reminded them. "And a drunk brother in class B's looks no classier than a drunk brother in armor."

Kix moved to stand beside Top. "Class B's."

Jesse gave a dramatic eye roll. "Fine, fine. Class B's. Sheesh, I . . . might have to throw mine in the auto-press first. I think they're crumpled up somewhere in the back of my foot locker."

Thirty minutes later, they were in a taxi on their way to 79s.

As they pulled up to the platform, they could see it was milling with scores of clones and the women who made it their business to entertain them.

"Looks like a busy night," Pitch stated, exiting the taxi.

As Jesse got out, his gaze fell on Kix, who had gotten out ahead of him; and it struck him very suddenly that only a week ago, the two of them had been here together. This was where Fives had spoken to Kix. The last time Kix had seen Fives alive. The last night of Fives' life.

Kix appeared unfazed by being at 79s again. He certainly hadn't protested when the place was suggested.

They went inside to discover the inside of the club was twice as crowded as the outside platform.

"It's crazy in here!" Top shouted. "I don't remember it ever being this crowded."

They made their way towards the bar until Kix spoke up, "Can we try to get a table? Or maybe just stand?"

Jesse looked at him in the dim haze. "He doesn't want to go near where we sat last time." Aloud, he agreed, "Sure. You three go find a place to sit. I'll go the bar and order. What does everyone want?"

A moment later, he was at the bar placing the order. As he waited for the drinks to be served, he was suddenly joined by Top.

"I thought you might need help," Top offered. "Hard to carry four drinks at once."

"I'm an old pro," Jesse grinned. "Did you all find a table?"

Before Top could answer, another clone wearing commando black squeezed his way up to the bar, and seeing Jesse, interrupted. "Jesse."

Jesse glanced at the man. "Bedlam. You guys still planet-side? I thought you'd have shipped out by now."

"In two days," Bedlam replied. "Hey, we all heard about your friend, the ARC trooper. It's a damned shame. And to think he was in here that night." He shook his head. "I wish we could have helped out somehow."

"Thanks. I appreciate it," Jesse said.

"Kix here with you?"

"He's at a table."

"He doing okay?"

"He's fine," Jesse replied, wanting this conversation to end. He had expected that word had spread and there might be questions. He wanted no part in answering them, though. Not so much for his own sake, but for Kix's. Let the details remain unspoken. Curious – or nosy – brothers would have to find other ways to fill in the blank spots.

Fortunately, at that moment, the drinks arrived, providing the perfect excuse. "This is ours, so . . . good talking to you Bedlam. Give my best to your squad." He knew Top was looking at him, but he was reluctant to face him. In the same way he hadn't wanted to divulge the particulars to Bedlam, nor did he want to ruin this reunion night out by speaking of so maudlin a topic even with his own squad mate.

Top picked up two of the drinks. "I was hoping to avoid that whole subject tonight."

Jesse was surprised. "You knew about it?"

"I spent a lot of time with Commander Cody on the trip back," Top replied. "General Kenobi had told him about it. He told me." He faced Jesse directly. "I know the role Kix played in it. From what I just heard, I take it this is where Fives saw Kix and asked him to arrange the meeting. I didn't know it had happened here." A pause. "He seems okay with being here, so as long as no other blowhards come fishing for info, things should be okay."

"Yeah," Jesse agreed. "Bedlam's not a bad guy. You know how those commandos are." He cracked a smile. "And you're not one to label anyone else a blowhard. But if he knows, everyone else in the bar probably knows as well. As long as we can keep them away from the table. I didn't come out tonight to relive that night over and over again. And I know Kix absolutely won't want to talk about it or even hear about it."

They started heading towards the table.

"I have to admit, I'm surprised he agreed on 79s," Jesse went on. "But I think, with you being here, he'd go anywhere."

"He's hardly said a thing since I've been back," Top noted doubtfully. "He didn't say a word in the taxi."

"He's okay," Jesse assured him. "You know he just needs time with you. It's been a pretty rough ride . . . for both of us. First, the interview with Admiral Tarkin for this investigation. Then, all the stuff with Fives. Then the reunion with Pitch. And now you." He leaned closer to be heard above the din. "He's your Little Brother. That's the relationship you both created. He wants some attention from you. It's what he's used to."

"Got it," Top nodded.

Coming to the table, it was hardly surprising to see a bevy of inquirers gathered around, probing for information. And to his credit, Pitch was verbally swatting them away while Kix simply ignored them with his trademark half-smile that was meant to put people off but not down.

"Okay, vultures, back off," Top ordered, elbowing people out of the way. "Go check out some other watering hole. We're trying to have a little squad reunion here."

One of the troopers who had been gathered around the table could not resist taking a friendly jab. His name was Jinx. He had been a bridge navigator aboard the Resolute and was now a ground controller at the Coruscant military docking center, and he knew the men of Saber Squad from their time serving together aboard the Resolute.

"What I want to know is who you guys thinking you're fooling dressing like one of us?" he poked, referencing the Class B uniforms. "I didn't think you ground-pounders even knew how to wear these."

Jesse responded in kind. "Huh. What's easier to put on? This or body armor? I'll give you one guess, Jinx, old pal."

"Enh, I guess you boys clean up pretty nicely," Jinx replied equably. "Either way, good to see you all again. And . . . I was sorry to hear about Hardcase. He was a good man."

Jesse gave an appreciative nod. "Take it easy, Jinx. Keep 'em flying."

Now that the four were together and it was clear they were not there to answer questions, the number of visitors to the table slowed to a trickle; and those who did stop by came only to offer the sort of greetings and well-wishes that fighting men kept in their hip pockets, knowing that every perchance encounter might be the last.

The conversation among them was safe. And scant. They could barely hear their own voices over the thump of the beat and the hubbub of the other patrons.

Over the course of the next hour and another round of drinks, it became clear that the four members of Saber Squad had garnered the attention of a clique of women standing at a table at the edge of the dance floor. They were very human, very beautiful, and very provocative in both dress and mannerism.

"That marli hasn't taken her eyes off you all night," Pitch said, addressing the comment to Kix.

"I noticed the same thing," Top agreed. "She's pretty brazen about it, too."

"It's the haircut," Jesse grinned.

"You all are stupid," Kix replied, shaking his head.

Top inclined his head to one side. "Enh . . . I dunno. In her mind, she's got you stripped and in bed already." A wink. "Some things never change. We're all the same face, but he's the good-looking one."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Kix demurred. In the pale neon light, he seemed to color a bit. "You know, you're right. Some things never change. You are still a squalik."

"Maybe, but I tell you, she's going to come over here any minute," Top persisted. "And, em, whew!—she's got some legs—"

"And makes sure everyone can see them," Jesse added. "I guarantee you, those women are regulars; here probably every night."

"Well, then 79s has had an upgrade, because at least those women are attractive," Top observed. "But not attractive enough to come between brothers."

"And we didn't come here to pick up women," Kix pointed out. "We came here to spend time together."

The words were spoken without malice, without accusation. Simply a statement of the facts. And in their uttering, it became immediately apparent that, whatever limited amount of time they may have together before going their separate ways again – frittering that time away in a dive like 79s was not what any of them truly wanted.

"You know, it's too loud in here," Jesse announced. "And too crowded."

"I was thinking the same thing," Pitch agreed. "Why don't we try someplace else?"

Top grinned. "I've got an idea."

They didn't even finish the current round before getting up and going out onto the platform. A line of taxis was already lined up. They took the first one in the queue.

As they piled in, Top told the driver, "The Diadem."

The driver appeared taken aback for a moment, but as long as this was a paying fare, he would ask no questions.

The other members of Saber Squad were not as complacent.

"The Diadem? We'll never get in there," Pitch protested.

"You're off your nut," Jesse added. "Clones aren't even allowed in there unless they're with a Senator or Jedi or some other . . . non-clone."

"Just leave it to me," Top replied. "A little trust, huh?"

Jesse sighed doubtfully. "If we end up in jail because of this . . . " He let the sentence dangle.

Top looked across at Kix. "What about you, LB? Do you trust me?"

"I always have."

"What a perfect way to not answer the question," Top droned in a voice of affected expectation, as if he had known all along that Kix would not give a direct answer to the issue at hand.

"Okay. Yes, I trust you. I don't know what you have planned, but I trust you," Kix gave in.

Fifteen minutes later, they were stepping out onto the ornate landing platform of the Diadem Skyrise, one of the most luxurious and prestigious locations in the city. The glass and alu-sheen structure rose over one hundred stories, housed offices, superior apartments, and several restaurants. The pinnacle restaurant of fine dining was on the 100th floor and carried the same name as the building in which it resided.

The platform was host to the well-heeled and finely attired upper echelons of Coruscant life, making the four clones appear woefully – and painfully – out of place.

But not to Top. He strode up to the security desk and, without hesitation, announced, "We're here to see Jedi General Shyfa."

The man at the desk was not a clone. He was, rather, a member of the Senate Guard. A human with an outsized sense of his own worth, like most Senate Guards. And since the Diadem complex was patronized by primarily political figures, it merited the protection of the Senate Guard. The guard looked at the clones with a condescension that he did not try at all to conceal.

"General Shyfa?"

"He's dining at the Diadem," Top replied.

The guard checked an access roster. "Yes, he is. Is he expecting you?"

Top was cool and even. "I'm his first-in-command. Page him if you want. He wanted me to meet him here."

The guard sighed loudly. "He couldn't have picked somewhere else?"

"You can ask him yourself," Top replied. "I don't question his orders. Now, do you want to buzz him?"

"Are . . . all four of you here to see him?"

"We are."

With an air of exasperation, the guard jutted his chin towards one of the scanner units. "Pass through. Wait for your number to register. Then Lift 8."

After passing through the security checkpoint, being cleared of weapons and having their numbers registered automatically by the machine, they walked down a bank of elevators to Lift 8, where an operator was waiting for them.

The doors closed. No one said a word for fear of being found out. But when the door opened on the 100th floor, they all stepped out and tried to act as nonchalant as possible.

"Wait here and look like you belong," Top advised.

"Yeah, sure," Jesse replied. "And where are you going?"

"To see General Shyfa."

"He's really here?"

"They wouldn't have let me in if he hadn't been on the entrance log," Top explained. "He told me he was coming here to meet with some Senators for a working dinner."

"And he won't be angry that we're interrupting?"'

"Just . . . stand by."

Top approached the maître de. Once again, he received a less-than-welcoming look.

"Is there something I can do for you?"

"My commander asked me to come here," Top replied. "Jedi General Shyfa. Would you let him know I'm here?"

"General Shyfa? He's your commander?"

"I'm his first-in-command. And I don't want him thinking I was slow getting here."

"Very well. Wait here."

Top turned and smiled at his squad mates.

"He's going to get us thrown out on our asses," Pitch fretted.

"He doesn't really think he's going to get us in there, does he?" Kix whispered.

A moment later, both the maître de returned to the front. With General Shyfa.

Shyfa cheerfully greeted them. "Gentlemen, it's a pleasure." He turned to his first-in-command. "My good captain, what brings you here – although I can truly say I am grateful for the interruption. Senators can be quite trying."

For the first time, Top appeared slightly bashful. "I wondered if you would do us a favor, Sir?"

Jesse blanched. "A favor? He pulled his general away from business for a favor?"

"What is the favor?"

"We want to go to the top observation deck," Top replied.

Shyfa smiled. "Is that all?"

Top nodded. "Yes, General."

"You don't ask for much, do you?" Shyfa smiled. He summoned the lift. They stepped in and rode to the top level. As they doors opened, the general turned to his captain's three squad mates. "Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't get too crazy."

"We'll do our best, General," Jesse replied.

The lift doors closed behind them.

"So, what's up here? Another club?"

"I'll show you. Follow me."

He led them down a short corridor, through a set of glass doors and out onto a wide, empty rooftop platform. They walked to the edge where a glass filament-strand shield protected visitors while affording an amazing view. They could walk right to the brink with no fear of going over.

"This is . . . amazing," Jesse said, looking out over the cityscape below. "We're . . . on top of the city."

"How did you even know this was here?" Pitch asked, also taking in the view.

"Commander Ki'weya showed me," Top replied.

"Fantastic," Pitch breathed.

"Come on, we're not quite there yet." Top led them up a narrow stairway and over three banks of heating and air units to a small rectangular alcove. "Our own private review stand."

Jesse walked to the edge where a small ledge marked the point beyond which it was dangerous to go. "The light from below barely reaches up here. Look at the sky," he said with a sense of awe. He sat down on polished concrete floor, put his hands behind his head and leaned back to lie down.

"Don't do that!" Pitch chastised. "What if someone walks out and sees you?"

"No one will walk out here," Top replied. "No one goes beyond the platform."

"Well, we're here," Kix pointed out.

Top took Kix's neck in the crook of his elbow. "That's because we're bold," he chirped. "Enh, truthfully, nobody even comes up to the platform this late at night."

"You sound like you come here a lot," Kix grunted, twisting out from his grip.

"Every time I'm on Coruscant," Top replied. "It gets me away from everyone and everything. So, then, I can think about you guys."

"Oh geez, you are sooo sappy," Pitch groaned.

Jesse came to Top's defense. "He's always been that way. We wouldn't know what to do if he turned into something else."

"Point taken." Pitch dropped down on the concrete beside Jesse and lay down with his head on Jesse's stomach as a pillow. "Yeah, this really is a nice place to get away from everything."

Kix sat down with his back against the wall, pulling his knees in front of him. "This is much better than 79s. Or any other club."

Top sat in front of him, resting his back against Kix's shin. "It's peaceful. We're above all the noise, all the voices . . . "

"It's just about perfect," Jesse sighed contentedly.

"Just about," Kix echoed, his meaning clear.

After several seconds of silence, Kix went on. "I miss him. I really miss him."

Pitch spoke quietly. "He's waiting for us, you know."

When no one said anything, he pushed up onto his elbows and craned his head round to regard them seriously. "I mean it. He's waiting for us. They all are. All our brothers." He lay back again. "I learned that on Bertegad, but I didn't really believe until Hardcase died. I mean, I was there at the Monasitca, I saw that souls really do exist; and I still had trouble believing my own eyes. But once I found out Hardcase was gone . . . while I was in the hospital recovering, I just kept imagining his voice, telling me everything is going to be okay, that we're all going to be together again. I believe him."

It was warmly spoken and with genuine sincerity. So much so, that even if the others could not share the belief, they also would not discount it.

"I hope you're right, brother," Top replied. "I wouldn't want to spend eternity without you guys." He slid back to rest against Kix's chest. This was the attention of which Jesse had spoken: the attention Kix needed, the closeness, the kind of familial intimacy that prevailed within the ranks of the clone troopers. Such physical closeness had long been a part of Saber Squad – from the days of their boyhood. There was no hint of self-consciousness. No hesitation, no embarrassment. It was a habit born in innocence, carried forward in the agape of brotherhood.

For Kix's part, this one moment went a long way towards undoing the pain and horror of the last several months. Top had an uncanny way of making him feel needed on the one hand and protected on the other. Not that it was in a clone's genetic makeup to experience the desire to be needed or to take comfort from protection. But it was part of his makeup. It brought him a degree of contentment he'd not felt since Top had left the 501st.

"How long are we staying here?" Kix asked.

"Until someone chases us off, or sunrise . . . whichever comes first," Top replied.

"Sounds good to me," Jesse approved.

"Me, too," added Pitch.

"I think Hardcase would agree, too," Kix put forth.

"Without a doubt, LB. Without a doubt."

---

Rex checked his appearance in the mirror.

He looked as good as his battered armor would allow. And among fighting men, battle-scarred armor was something to be worn proudly. But for a summons from the Chancellor . . . maybe not.

It was almost nine o'clock in the morning. He was meeting General Skywalker in the Justice's Bay 8. They would travel to the Chancellor's office together.

Rex could think of only one reason both he and General Skywalker would be called to come together. The results of the investigation must be in. And that was a nerve-wracking possibility. In less than an hour, he could find himself being led off in shackles to prison.

He wished he hadn't stayed out so late last night with Cody and Stone. But at least, he had not over-indulged. He was perfectly sober, in command of his wits, and ready—albeit nervous—to face whatever justice awaited him.

He met General Skywalker in the hangar.

Anakin was already sitting in a speeder. Rex climbed in beside him.

"You know what this is about, right?" Anakin posed straight away. "Admiral Tarkin must have completed his investigation and made his recommendations."

"I was thinking the same thing, General," Rex replied. "He made a quick job of it."

Anakin pulled out into the travel lanes like the pod-racer of his past. Rex was convinced that slow was not a word in his general's vocabulary. Or if it was, it certainly did not apply to the rate at which any vehicle was operated.

"Better than dragging it out," Anakin opined. "I hate waiting. Let's find out the results and get it overwith."

Rex gave a wry, one-sided grin. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that, Sir. Overwith could mean a court-martial and a long stint in prison."

"That won't happen," Anakin said forcefully. "I'd break you out before I'd let you languish behind bars."

"Then we'd both end up in jail," Rex replied with dry humor. After a pause, he continued in a more serious voice. "I would imagine it's more likely that I'll be demoted, removed from command. They might reassign me."

'Hraka."

Rex was surprised—and somehow pleased—to hear General Skywalker using a term that usually only clones used. It was an indication of just how much a part of this the general intended to be. He would not let his captain be humiliated, discarded, or punished. Perhaps he had tricks up his sleeve. Perhaps he would toss aside all pretense of following the rules; after all, he'd done it before. To save his first-in-command, he would do it again. Of that, Rex had no doubt.

"I'm ready to accept whatever decision comes down," Rex said evenly.

"Well, I'm not," Anakin disagreed. "There's only one decision I'll accept – and that's complete exoneration. Damn, Rex, they should be pinning a medal on your chest after what happened on Umbara." A scowl crossed his face. "The Jedi Council feel you should be removed from command—or at least, removed as my first-in-command."

This was news to the captain. "Is that true, Sir?"

A darkness descended over the general's features. Rex had seen it before and recognized it as the shadow of indignation and restrained rage. Its appearance had never concerned Rex; it didn't concern him now. He liked that General Skywalker felt things to their fullest intensity. He credited it to him as amazing restraint that he was able to hold those emotions in check – most of the time, anyways. In that way, General Skywalker distinguished himself from every other Jedi Rex had met. He allowed his emotions to have their say, to provide the spark that drove his actions; and he was not afraid to acknowledge their existence. It was one of the reasons Rex so admired Skywalker; the captain never felt like he was seeing something false, something less than the full truth of the man he called general. If someone had ever tried to suggest to him that he did not know or fully understand his commanding officer, he would have dismissed them out of hand.

And now, this divulging of the Council's opinion regarding the two of them serving together . . . this was more frightening than anything Admiral Tarkin might recommend from his investigation.

"Oh, it's true," Anakin replied, his voice simmering with anger. "They told me when I delivered my report to them the night of Fives' death." A pause. "I didn't say anything to you, because I didn't want to add to your worries. You had enough going on as it was. Besides, military manning isn't the Council's decision anyway. The G-1 runs that show."

"But . . . why, Sir? Why would they want to separate us? Do they believe I did something wrong? Do they think it was wrong to kill General Krell?"

"Rex . . . this has nothing to do with you," Anakin replied bitterly. "This has to do with me. They think you're taking on too many of my reckless qualities. Basically, they think I'm a bad influence on you, and that, in turn, makes you a bad influence on me." A derisive laugh burst forth briefly. "We have the most successful record of any unit in the GAR, but we're bad for each other. Maybe what they really want are more defeats."

Rex was mortified. "I didn't realize that's how they viewed me."

"Rex, they view you as the pinnacle clone officer," Anakin reassured him. "And they don't want you being ruined anymore by me."

"That's—that's . . . " Rex shook his head, at a loss for words. An uncharacteristic breath of levity caught him up. "I'm being ruined by the best. I won't settle for anything less."

This brought a grin to Anakin's face. "We're not going to let this break us, Rex," he said shrewdly. "Not this investigation, not the Council. We're the best team in the entire GAR. Everyone knows it. That's what they're afraid of."

"Sir?"

"Sometimes it's possible to be too good. No one likes coming up against the unbeatable," Anakin replied. "They're jealous. They're afraid."

"Well, they—they don't need to be afraid," Rex pointed out. "We're all fighting on the same side."

"Sometimes I wonder." Anakin's voice contained an ominous note.

Within minutes, they had arrived at the Chancellory, which was located in the same complex as the Senate; and shortly thereafter, they were being shown into Chancellor Palpatine's office suite.

Rex had been in the offices perhaps only once or twice before; but their appearance had stayed fixed in his memory. Unlike the sterility of the Senate chambers, the Chancellor's personal touch adorned every corner of his private office. Both the walls and carpet were of a rich, luxuriant pestillion red. The furnishings were sparse: modern with curving lines and high-sheen surfaces. There were a number of pieces of fine artwork. Bronze statues of the Four Sages of Dwartii. A stunning metallic incense burner that had pride of place on one of the side tables. And n the entryway to the main office was a frieze depicting a battle from the Great Hyperspace War. Rex had noticed it the first time he'd been in the Chancellor's chambers. It was a beautiful piece of work; yet, it had made his skin crawl. The glorious battle of good versus evil, the light against the dark. But all he could see in it was the dark.

Passing it now as he and General Skywalker were escorted into the main receiving chamber by Mas Amedda, Rex spared it only the briefest of glances. He felt almost as if the figures in the depiction were alternately mocking and warning him.

"Ahhh, Anakin, come in, come in." Chancellor Palpatine rose from his console chair.

Anakin and Rex crossed the room.

"Your Excellency." Anakin greeted the Chancellor with a slight bow, a show of deference. "You know Captain Rex."

"Of course," Palpatine replied with easy gentility. "He is, after all, the reason for this meeting." He gestured toward the seats around his desk. "Sit, please."

They sat, rather uncomfortably; yet the pleasantness of the encounter thus far gave hope that perhaps things might still turn out well.

"I am sure you must be very anxious, Captain," Palpatine said, his voice brimming with sympathy. "It must have been very difficult these past few days, waiting to hear the results of investigation." He retrieved a chip from his desk. "I have Admiral Tarkin's report right here. And I won't make you wait any longer. The Admiral found no evidence of improper action. No evidence of wrong-doing. He recommended that no charges be brought against you. No disciplinary action be taken."

Rex sat in silence. No words would even come to him.

Anakin, on the other hand, was hard-pressed to contain his excitement. "So . . . that means Rex will be staying with me in the 501st?"

"I see no reason to change things," the Chancellor replied. "I have already approved Admiral Tarkin's findings and forwarded them to the Grand Army Headquarters." He came forward to shake hands with both me, who rose to their feet. "Why should I want to break up the best team the Army has to offer?"

"Amazing," Rex said to himself. "That's exactly what General Skywalker was saying on the way over here. It's as if they were thinking the same thing."

As Palpatine shook Rex's hand, he took on a contrite air. "I can only apologize for putting you through all this, Captain. Alas, even I have to abide by certain protocols, I'm sure you understand. But perhaps now, all of this can be put behind us. You are best kind of soldier. We need you out on the front lines, leading our men in battle."

"Thank you, Sir," was all Rex could manage.

Palpatine looked to Anakin and smiled in the fatherly manner to which Anakin had become accustomed. Then, looking back at Rex, he put his hand on the captain's arm. "Will you excuse us a moment?"

"Of course, Chancellor," Rex nodded. He turned to leave with Amedda, but stopped suddenly. "Your Excellency . . . this may be out-of-line, but it may be the only chance I have to ask you . . . "

Anakin felt his breath catch in his throat. What was Rex up to?

"One of my troopers is in prison right now here on Coruscant—"

"You are referring to the young man who killed General Krell?" The Chancellor smiled knowingly. "Perhaps your next stop after leaving here should be the detention facility. Your comrade will need a ride to rejoin his battalion."

Now, Rex felt a smile forming. He kept it at a respectable level, not wanting to betray the emotions roiling beneath the surface. "Thank you, Chancellor. Thank you."

And as he left the office, he found himself thinking just how wrong Commander Fox had been about the Chancellor. Very wrong, indeed.

---

Once Rex and Amedda had left the room, Anakin was profuse with his praise.

"I can't thank you enough, Your Excellency. It's been a hard time for Rex – for the whole battalion. If he'd been found guilty, that would have sent a terrible message to the troops."

"Oh, don't thank me," the Chancellor demurred, waving his hand. "It was Admiral Tarkin who recommended no action be taken."

"Yes, but you appointed him."

Palpatine smiled. "So I did." A pause. "Your captain is a fine officer."

"The best."

"And he means a great deal to you."

Anakin didn't need to think about it. "Without question.

"From an outsider's view, it would appear that you're closer to him than you are even to your former teacher, Obi-wan," Palpatine ventured.

Anakin considered. "We're close in a different way. Rex and I spend a lot more time together. I depend on him the way any general depends on his officers. And . . . he's a lot more than a clone. He's become a friend."

"You speak so fondly of him."

"I don't know what I would do without him," Anakin admitted.

The smile still played on Palpatine's lips. "Let's try to make sure you never have to find out."

Notes:
1. Yes, the Eagle makes an appearance. Partly because I love DB. I also needed a segue to remind readers of the Monastica. For fun, there is an anime called Bleach where the characters' swords all have souls with their own wildly disparate personalities. I have been modelling the eagle, from the beginning, after one of these characters. I like that he is proud and loves to show off what he can do, but that he is absolutely devoted to taking care of DB.

2. A short stint at the Monastica. After all, I'm sure you didn't think they'd disappeared for good, did you? ;-) I admit, I particularly like Au-Mikiel's explanation that the only kind of love most clones will know is brotherly love. And you see that playing out very strongly throughout this chapter (without getting too syrupy, I hope).

3. Challenger. Tribute to the Space Shuttle Challenger and the Eagle Challenger (named after the shuttle). BTW, go Falcon9 and Crew Dragon this Saturday! After we got scrubbed . . . sorry, I am a space program geek.

4. The holo-pic of Echo and Fives on their "ARC" appointment day. Because I stick pretty much with the original Bad Batch "reel" version in this story, the scene in the barracks between Cody and Rex from Season 7 does not appear in this story. The scene I have inserted above takes its place and has a different tenor to it. So, I liked the idea from Season 7 of them looking at the picture. I kept it and just changed the circumstances. Plus, I like when Cody's blood get flowing and he just reams Rex up one side and down the next.

5. Saber Squad. The scene on the roof is taken from one of my favorite images from a WWII newsreel. It's a troop carrier taking soldiers into the Pacific theater. They've just been through some terrible weather, lots of heaving stomachs. And now, the weather is gorgeous and they all go up on deck. THOUSANDS of them. Everyone wants to lie out in the sun. So, here are all these young men - soldiers - lying on deck with their heads on each other's stomachs and legs, jammed in like sardines. Back in the 40s, no one would have thought of such a scene in any kind of sexual manner. Today, dudes in any kind of close physical contact tends to be sexualized. That is not the intent with Saber Squad. So, I took a chance here, but I loved that image from the newsreel. And I think Christina TM's remark gave me the courage to keep this scene in instead of water it down to more back-slapping and arm-gripping! lol!

6. Starting to see little shades of darker Anakin. But . . . in case you didn't catch it . . . someone else is getting a bit darker along with him.