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jetii · 2 months ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Nine: Sacrifice

Chapter WC: 7,533

Chapter Tags/Warnings: canon-typical violence

A/N: We're getting somewhere! Kinda!

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Felucia, 21 BBY

Morning comes, and with it, a new day, and a new wave of attacks. You're woken early by the sounds of the blaster fire, the shouts and screams of the men echoing through the jungle. There's barely enough time to get your armor on before you're running out into the battlefield, lightsabers already ignited. The same thing happens the next day, and the next.

On the third day, you find yourself standing shoulder to shoulder with Rex, the two of you fighting a retreating battle. The droids are advancing, and you're struggling to hold them off. This part of the planet is sparser than the others, with giant blooms acting as cover. You and Rex are crouched behind a particularly large flower, its petals the size of a star cruiser.

"This is a bad position," Rex yells over the sound of the battle.

"I know!" you shout back, and you duck down, the blast narrowly missing your head.

"What are your orders?"

You curse, and you reach out, your mind searching for the other Jedi. You connect with Obi-Wan almost instantaneously, the bond thrumming between the two of you, and you realize he's reaching for you too. The feeling of his presence washes over you, and his thoughts flood your mind, the concern and the urgency bleeding into your own emotions.

"We're falling back to your position," Obi-Wan tells you. "Hold your ground until we get there."

"Understood," you reply, and the connection is severed, the bond dissolving. You open your eyes and turn to Rex, the worry etched on your face. "We're not going anywhere."

"Yes, sir," he says, and he rises and shoots, taking out several of the droids, the bolts slamming into the metal bodies. They collapse in a pile of twisted metal, but the others continue their approach, unphased. Rex curses and ducks back down. "This isn't going to be easy."

"Nothing ever is," you mutter. "Cover me."

"What are you—" He cuts himself off when he realizes you're already gone. You rush forward, throwing your shoto in an arc as you leap over the droids. The blade slices through them like butter, and they fall, the clattering sound filling the air. You land on the other side and turn, the saber returning to your hand.

The droids have turned their attention to you, and you can hear Rex shouting. You ignore him, and the incoming shots, and you charge, lightsabers swinging. The frustration and the panic fuel you to keep fighting, to push forward, to win. The rage burns hotter with each passing second, and the darkness at the edge of your consciousness threatens to engulf you. You fight against the urge, pushing it back, but the control is slipping through your fingers.

And then, just as suddenly, the pressure is released, and the energy around you changes. You don't have to look to know who has arrived, but you do anyway, watching as Obi-Wan and Anakin descend upon the droids, their blades flashing in the sunlight. They cut through the metal army, and you take the opportunity to catch your breath, the first respite you've had in what feels like hours.

"You good?" Anakin asks as he stops next to you, and he glances at the carnage, his eyes wide.

"Yeah," you pant. "You?"

He gives you a look that clearly communicates how ridiculous a question it is. "Are you serious?"

"Sorry," you huff. "Forgot who I was talking to."

Anakin smirks and looks at Obi-Wan, who's still slashing through the droids, his blade a blur. "You think he needs any help?"

You shake your head. "He seems fine to me."

Obi-Wan's movements are swift and precise, and there's a ferocity, a desperation, to them that has your eyebrows raising. He's cutting down the droids like they're made of paper, and there's a fire in his eyes, the anger visible. You can't help but wonder what happened, what triggered his sudden surge of aggression, and you make a note to ask him later. But for now, you focus on keeping up, on staying alive.

Anakin and Obi-Wan hold the front of the line, and you let them, keeping your attention on the forces trying to flank. Ahsoka is still off with a small contingent, sent away to patrol the jungle, much to her displeasure. You'd tried to argue on her behalf, but Anakin had insisted, and in the end, she'd left, a sullen expression on her face. You can only pray she's faring better than the rest of you.

You push that thought away, and you turn, lightsaber swinging. A blast hits the ground near your feet, and you curse, the dirt and smoke kicking up. You lunge, and your blade sinks into the droid, the metal melting under the heat. It collapses, and you pull your blade free, the metal glowing red. The others keep firing, and you duck and roll, the bolts whizzing over your head.

The battle rages on, and the minutes bleed together, the blood pounding in your ears and your lungs burning. The exhaustion is creeping in, and you're struggling to hold onto the hope that you'll survive this.

Every night since you've arrived, you've had the same nightmare, and every night, you wake up, gasping and sweating. You don't remember what it was about, but the feeling of dread lingers, and the sense of foreboding weighs heavily on you. And, even though the sun is shining, and the air is warm, the chill hasn't left you, and you're afraid. Afraid that something terrible is coming, that something is going to happen. You're not sure if it's the Force or the fatigue or the stress, but the feeling has grown, and it's getting harder to ignore.

You try to put the thoughts aside, to focus on the battle, but the unease refuses to fade. You can feel it in the air, and in the energy around you. The battle is turning, and you can sense it, the shift in the tide.

"We have to move," Rex says over the comm, his voice firm. "We're exposed."

"Rex is right," you tell Anakin. "We can't hold this position."

Anakin curses, and he glances over, his gaze finding yours. His eyes are wild, and his breathing is ragged, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat. You know he doesn't want to retreat any more than you do, but it's the only option, and the both of you know it. You hold his gaze, and you nod, the understanding passing between the two of you.

"Fall back," he orders, and the words echo through the comms. "We're retreating."

The men are reluctant to abandon their positions, and there's a murmur of protest, but they obey, moving back in a steady retreat. You fall back with them, keeping an eye on the enemy, and on Anakin and Obi-Wan. The battle continues to rage, and the droids are relentless, pursuing you even as the clones shoot them down.

"The 104th has broken through the blockade," Cody reports over the comms. "They're en route to the surface."

The news is a welcome relief, and the anxiety in your chest eases, if only slightly. It's taken them far too long to reach you, and you know that it's no longer a matter of reinforcement, but of evacuation. The battle is lost, and you need to get off the planet, and soon. If not, you'll be trapped, and you'll all die. It's a reality you can't afford to ignore.

"It's about damn time," Anakin growls. "I was starting to think the Council had forgotten about us."

"Don't count on their help just yet," Obi-Wan responds grimly. "If things are as bad as we think they are, then the 104th won't be able to hold the line for long."

"So what's the plan?" you ask, your eyes focused on the approaching droids, and the destruction they're leaving in their wake. The jungle is burning, the smell of smoke and ash heavy in the air. You can't see far, but you know that the planet will not recover, not after this. Everything is on fire, and the heat is intense, the flames licking the sky. "We can't wait much longer."

"I'm aware," Obi-Wan snaps. He seems to think the better of it immediately, and his voice softens. "For now, we keep moving, and we get as many men out of here as we can. That's our priority."

"Then, what?"

"We'll figure it out."

"Fine," you huff, and you turn, throwing yourself into the fight. Your lightsabers flash, and you cut down the droids, their metal bodies falling at your feet. You're not sure how long you fight, but you push through the exhaustion, and the pain, and the fear. You focus on surviving, on staying alive, and the minutes pass in a blur.

You can't help but wonder how many times you're going to have to fight these battles, how many lives will be lost before the Republic finally ends the war. And you're beginning to realize that there's no end in sight. You've been fighting for months, and the conflict seems to be escalating. The stakes are higher, the losses more devastating. You can't keep doing this, and yet, there's no choice.

The battle rages, and the minutes drag by. You've fallen back to Rex's side at the feet of an AT-TE, its cannons firing and its legs stomping down droids as the enemy tries to advance. You're barely able to keep your focus, your body aching and your mind exhausted. All you can think about is the men who have died, the lives that have been lost, the pointless nature of it all. The frustration, and the despair, are overwhelming, and you're barely able to keep it together.

"Rex," you call out. "Have you heard from Ahsoka?"

"No," he replies. "The last I heard, she was engaged in combat, and was trying to regroup."

The worry settles in, and you can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. Whatever it is, it can't be good. Your eyes scan the battlefield, and the anxiety grows. The air is thick with smoke and the smell of burning metal, and it's hard to see through the haze. "And the 104th?"

"They're en route," he says. His voice is calm despite the chaos around you, and you try to focus on it, to channel his energy, but it's not working. "ETA is five minutes."

"That's too long," you mutter, shaking your head. Your breath catches in your throat, and the panic rises, the feeling of impending doom growing stronger. "Something's not right. We need to get out of here."

"What?"

"I don't know," you admit, and you glance at Rex, your eyes meeting through the visor of his helmet. "They need to get here now."

"What's wrong?" he asks as he takes a step towards you. The concern radiates off him, and the intensity of his stare, even through the helmet, is overwhelming. "Talk to me."

"I'm not sure," you reply, and you swallow. You've never felt this way before, and it's making it hard to concentrate. You barely manage to dodge a blaster shot, and Rex swears, pulling you behind the tank.

“Sir, you need to focus," Rex tells you, his tone urgent. "I need you here, and not wherever you are right now."

You nod, and you take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself, but the worry is still there. You're not sure what's causing it, and the uncertainty is almost worse, the anxiety clawing at your chest.

"It's alright," he soothes. "We'll figure it out, but you have to stay focused."

"I can't," you whisper, your eyes wide and your hands shaking. You can't get your heart rate under control, and you can feel the sweat running down your neck, the tremors wracking your body. It's as if someone has reached into your chest and squeezed the air from your lungs. It's like someone is standing over you, watching, waiting. "I can't, Rex."

"Hey, it's okay," he reassures, and his voice is calm, the sound a balm to your senses. "We'll get through this, and we'll get everyone out of here. I promise."

You want to believe him, and you're desperately clinging to his words, to the strength of his voice, to the warmth of his hand. You nod, and you try to slow your breathing, to force the panic down. You can't break, not now, not when there are so many lives depending on you. Not when you're needed.

"I'm okay," you say, more to yourself than anyone, and you straighten, your lightsabers igniting. "I'm fine."

The words are hollow, and you're not sure if you believe them, but you have no other choice. Rex lets go of your arm, and you're surprised, your brow furrowing. You hadn't even realized he was still holding you. He doesn't apologize, and he doesn't give any indication that anything happened, but you can sense his concern, his fear. He's worried about you, and the guilt settles in. You have no idea what's going on, but it's obviously affecting you more than you'd thought.

"Rex, I'm..." You trail off, unsure of what to say, and you let out a shaky breath, the anxiety rising. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," he tells you, his voice soft despite how loud the battle is. "Just...be careful, sir. Please."

"I will."

His helmet is still turned towards you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze. You want to reassure him, to tell him that everything will be fine, that he has nothing to worry about. But the words are stuck in your throat, and the lie won't come.

And then you look up.

There’s barely enough time to react as the burning remains of a Vulture droid hurdle toward you, its engine roaring and the smoke billowing. You're not sure how it made it past the AT-TE's defenses, or why the ship isn't firing, but you have no time to think.

You push with all your might, using the Force to send Rex flying out of the path of the falling droid. It crashes to the ground and explodes, sending dirt and debris into the air, the shock wave reverberating. The explosion knocks you off your feet, and you're thrown several meters away. The pain shoots through your body as you slam into the ground, and your lightsabers fly out of your hands, the blades blinking out of existence as they skid across the dirt. Your head smashes against the hard surface, and you roll a few times before coming to a stop, dazed.

The world is spinning, and you're struggling to get your bearings, your vision blurry and dark. There's a ringing in your ears, and you can't hear anything else, not even the sound of the battle. All you can see is the burning wreckage, and the thick, black smoke. You cough, the air filled with the acrid scent of burning metal and plastic. Your entire body aches, and you're having a hard time catching your breath.

You feel something warm and sticky trickling down your face, and you lift your hand to wipe it away. When you pull it back, your palm is stained with blood, and you're momentarily confused, your thoughts disjointed and scattered. Then, the realization sets in, and the panic returns. You try to stand, but your legs give out, and you collapse, your body hitting the ground with a thud.

Everything hurts, and the ringing is getting louder, and all you can think about is the blood on your hands, and the burning droid, and Rex. You need to find Rex, to make sure he's okay, to get him to safety. You need to—

There's a shadow in front of you, and it takes a moment for your eyes to focus, the image swimming in your vision. When it finally does, you see Rex kneeling over you, his helmet gone and his face covered in dirt.

He's shouting something, but you can't hear him, the words garbled and distorted. His expression is panicked, and his eyes are wide, his mouth moving rapidly. You can see the fear in his gaze, and you try to respond, but the words are stuck in your throat. You want to tell him that you're fine, that everything is going to be okay, but you can't.

All you can do is watch as he slips his arms under your body and lifts you. You try to protest, but the words come out as a moan, the sound weak and pained. Rex doesn't seem to notice, and he holds you tightly against his chest as he begins to run. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his armor, and you press your face into his neck, tears stinging your eyes. You don't know where he's taking you, or what he's going to do, but you trust him, and you have no other choice.

The pain is becoming too much to bear, and you close your eyes, letting the darkness take over.

The last thing you hear is Rex shouting your name. And then, nothing.

Hyperspace, 21 BBY

Your eyes fly open, and you gasp for air, your body lurching forward violently. A scream dies on your lips, and you fall, your knees hitting the floor of the ship with a thud. You can feel the cold, hard metal against your palms as you grip the edge of the table in front of you, the blood roaring in your ears.

You try to steady your breathing, but the fear, and the panic, are threatening to consume you. You can't get the images out of your mind. You can't get the feeling of the pain, or the heat of the flames, out of your body. You can't forget the smell of the burning jungle, or the sounds of the screams, or the look in Rex's eyes as he held you.

The tears sting, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to force them back. When you open them again, you wince as the lights of the medbay assault your senses. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and when they do, you see the sterile, white walls, and the curtain drawn around you, and the bacta patches on your arms and legs.

You blink, and the reality sinks in. You're on the floor next to a hospital bed, on a Republic cruiser, somewhere in the vastness of space. And you're alive.

A voice calls your name, and you turn to see Obi-Wan rushing toward you, his robes billowing behind him. You try to stand, but your legs give out, and you collapse. Your body is wracked with tremors that won’t still, and your vision is blurred, the colors bleeding together. Only then do you realize you’re crying, tears rolling down your cheeks, hot and fast.

"Easy," Obi-Wan soothes as he crouches down next to you. He gently lifts you and places you back on the bed. His eyes are wide and filled with worry, his hands gripping your arms tightly, and he takes a moment to examine you. You can feel the panic, and the fear, emanating from him, and you swallow, trying to control your emotions, to reign in the chaos that is consuming your thoughts.

"Just breathe, my dear," he says. His voice is gentle, and he's still looking at you, his eyes searching yours. "Breathe."

You inhale, and the air fills your lungs, the oxygen soothing the ache in your chest. The tears fall harder, and you let them, too exhausted to fight, and too tired to care. Obi-Wan doesn't seem to mind, and he doesn't push you to stop. He pulls you into his arms, and he holds you, his chin resting on the top of your head. You bury your face into his shoulder, and you clutch his robe, your fingers twisting in the fabric. He whispers soft words of comfort, his hand moving in slow, steady circles on your back. His touch is familiar, and you allow yourself to lean into him, to let him take some of the weight.

You're not sure how long you sit there, lost in the warmth of his embrace. But, eventually, the tears subside, and your breathing evens, and you feel a little less broken. He seems to sense the change, and he pulls back, his eyes finding yours. He brushes the hair out of your face, his fingers tender.

"Better?" he asks. You nod, and he smiles, the relief washing over his features. "Good. I was afraid we were going to have to sedate you."

The joke is unexpected, and you huff a small laugh, the sound coming out as a choked sob.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, your voice hoarse. You're not sure what you're apologizing for, or why, but the words come out anyway. "I don't...I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan frowns, his brow furrowing, and his gaze grows serious, his eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about? There's nothing to be sorry for." He pauses, and the silence stretches, his eyes searching yours.

"Do you know where you are?" he asks after a moment.

You nod again, and his frown deepens, the worry still present.

"And do you know why you're here?"

Another nod. "I got hurt. During the battle."

He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes, you did,” he says slowly. He hesitates, and he seems to debate what he wants to say, the silence heavy between the two of you. You know he's concerned, and he has every right to be. You know what he's going to ask, and the question hangs in the air, the answer on the tip of your tongue. But the words won't come, and you're afraid, the fear still lingering. And so, you remain silent, and you wait, the tension mounting.

"Tell me what happened," Obi-Wan finally says, his voice quiet. He doesn't sound angry, or upset, just curious, and a little apprehensive. "Start at the beginning."

"We were retreating," you begin. Your voice is rough, and you have to force the words out, the emotions swirling in your chest. You hesitate, and he waits, giving you time. You take a deep breath, and you continue, telling him about the Vulture droid, and the explosion, and how Rex saved you. When you're finished, you look up, your gaze finding his. "And then I woke up."

Obi-Wan is silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful, his jaw clenched.

"I see," he says softly, his tone unreadable. He pulls away and sits down next to the bed, his posture rigid, his shoulders tense. You can feel the anger, and the frustration, radiating off him, and it's unnerving, the feelings so at odds with the calm demeanor he usually projects. You try to delve further, but he pushes back, blocking you, and then you feel nothing at all.

It's not malicious, but you know it's deliberate. And it hurts. A lot. The realization of it hits you like a blow, and your eyes sting, the tears threatening to fall. You bite back the pain, and you keep your expression neutral, the mask slipping into place.

You sit there, waiting for him to speak, to say something, anything. But he doesn't. The silence stretches on, and it's suffocating, the tension building. Finally, you can't take it anymore.

"Please," you plead, the desperation creeping into your voice. "Please talk to me."

“I…” Obi-Wan pauses and shakes his head, his brow furrowed, his jaw set.

"I don't know what to say," he admits. He rubs his face and lets out a sigh, his shoulders sagging. "I'm so tired of losing people."

The words are unexpected, and they hit you hard, the sadness weighing heavily on your heart. You hadn't realized just how much this was affecting him. You reach out, and he flinches, but he doesn't pull away, and you cover his hand with yours. The gesture is simple, but the meaning is not, the contact an anchor. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," he murmurs, and he turns his hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. His eyes are bright with unshed tears, and his grip is tight, the tension visible in his posture. "So am I."

He takes a breath and looks at you, his expression unreadable, and he seems to steel himself. "You shouldn’t have done that.”

You're taken aback by the sudden change in tone, and the anger in his voice, and your eyes widen, your head jerking back. You hadn't been expecting that.

"I didn't have a choice," you say quietly, and you try to pull your hand away, but his grip tightens, and you can't.

"You did," he counters. He's staring at you, his gaze piercing, his eyes narrowed. "You made a choice."

"Obi-Wan..."

"No," he snaps, his tone sharp, and he pulls his hand away. The sudden loss of contact sends a jolt through you, and you can't help the hurt that crosses your features. "You risked your life, and you didn't think about the consequences."

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did," he interrupts, his voice rising. "You didn't think, and now, we're both here, and I'm not going to lose anyone else. I can't."

"Obi-Wan, listen to me," you insist, and your voice cracks, the emotion bleeding through. "I couldn't just let him die."

His eyes widen, and he shakes his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You didn’t have to. He would've been able to move. You didn't have to push him."

You don't respond.

"You didn't have to," he repeats, and his voice breaks, the anger giving way to sorrow.

"But, I did," you whisper. You look at him, your gaze unwavering. "I couldn't let him die."

Obi-Wan falls silent. The grief, and the pain, is plain on his face, and you can't bear it.

"I'm sorry," you tell him. "But—“

"I know," he says softly. He runs a hand over his jaw, smoothing his beard, and he lets out a sigh, the weariness returning. "I know."

The silence stretches on, the minutes passing by. You sit there, watching him, the emotions playing out on his face. The frustration, and the anger, fade, and all that's left is exhaustion, a resignation.

"Why did you do it?" he finally asks. He looks at you, his eyes searching yours. "Why did you push him, when you knew that it could cost you your life?"

"I don’t know,” you say quietly.

“I don’t believe you.”

You can't meet his gaze, and you focus on the ground, your fingers fidgeting with the blankets. "It doesn't matter why," you say softly. "I did what I had to do, and it worked."

Obi-Wan shakes his head and rises from his chair, his face contorted in disbelief, the hurt palpable.

"It matters to me," he tells you.

"It doesn't have to."

"It does," he insists. His eyes are hard, and his mouth is set, the determination written on his features. "There was a hundred things you could’ve done. A hundred different ways to get out of that situation. Why did you choose the one that put you at the greatest risk?"

"Because he's important."

The confession is sudden, and it catches you off guard, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

You don't mean to say it, and you want to take it back, but the damage is done. You're not sure why, but the truth is there, and it's out, the realization dawning on the both of you.

Obi-Wan is looking at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and understanding, and there's a softness, a fondness, in his eyes, and you know. You know he's figured it out. You can see it in his face, and in the way he's looking at you.

"Important," he repeats.

"Yes."

"Important enough to die for?"

"Yes."

He sighs and turns, his hands behind his back, his shoulders squared. He paces the length of the room, eyes fixed on the ground. He's silent for a long moment, and you watch him, waiting, the nerves rising. You know what he's thinking, and you know what he's going to say. But you don't want to hear it, and you can't stand the tension, the silence. It's too much.

"Just say it," you say. “Please."

Obi-Wan stops. He turns, and his gaze meets yours, the sadness written on his face.

"This is a dangerous path," he tells you. "One that I've walked before."

"I'm aware."

"Are you?" he asks, his eyes searching yours. "Because I don't think you are."

You don't respond, and he continues, his voice growing softer, his expression more pained. "It's not fair to him, or to yourself. And, I fear, if you're not careful, then the both of you will be paying the price."

The words sting, and they cut deep, but the truth in them is undeniable. You can't deny it, and the guilt settles in, the reality hitting you like a slap in the face. You've been selfish, and reckless, and the consequences of your actions have weighed heavily on everyone around you. And now you’ve only made things worse.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. The tears are hot on your cheeks, and you look down, trying to hide them, but it's too late, and you know Obi-Wan has already seen them. He lets out a sigh and walks over to you, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

"There's nothing to apologize for," he says softly, his voice filled with empathy. "I just want you to be careful. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did."

"What do I do?"

"You keep moving," he replies. "You carry on."

You nod, and you wipe away the tears, your breathing ragged. Obi-Wan pulls you into his arms, and he holds you, the weight of his words still heavy on your shoulders. He doesn't say anything else, and the silence stretches, the minutes passing. And then, he pulls away, his hand cupping your cheek, his eyes meeting yours.

"Now, get some rest," he tells you, and he smiles, the sadness still present, but the worry fading. "We'll talk later."

You nod, and he turns, heading for the door. He pauses in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame, and he glances back at you.

"I'm proud of you," he says. His gaze lingers for a moment, and then, he's gone, the door closing behind him. You're alone in the room, and the quiet settles in, the air thick with the aftermath of the conversation.

You lean back and close your eyes, scrubbing at your face. The guilt is still there, and it's still heavy, but you feel better, and you're starting to see a little clearer. Obi-Wan is right. You need to carry on, to not allow this attachment, or whatever it is, to affect your judgment, or to control your actions. And you need to be careful. You can't put Rex in any more danger than he already is. He deserves better. They all do.

And you can do that. You can.

You take a breath and exhale, pushing the emotions away, burying them deep. When you open your eyes again, they're dry, and your breathing has steadied, and the weight, while not gone, has lessened. It's a start. You can work with that. You can.

And then you hear it.

"Sir."

You turn, and your eyes land on Rex, standing in the doorway, his helmet tucked under his arm. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you force yourself to take a deep breath, to push the feelings aside. To pretend. You can do that, right?

"Captain," you greet, and you smile, your expression masking the turmoil that's raging within you. "I'm glad you're alright."

Rex nods, and his lips twitch, a hint of a smile playing on his features. He doesn't seem surprised, and you realize, with a start, that Obi-Wan must have sent him a message before he'd even left the room. That man always has a plan.

"I should be the one telling you that," he says. He walks over to you and stands at attention, his posture rigid, his shoulders straight. His armor is covered in dirt, and there are a few new dents and scratches, but he's intact. And that's what matters. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"Better, thanks."

"I'm glad to hear it," he replies, and his gaze meets yours, his eyes searching yours. "You gave us quite a scare."

"Yeah, well, I've had worse," you say with a shrug. You lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees, your gaze never leaving his. "I'll be fine. It's going to take more than a little explosion to keep me down."

Rex chuckles and shakes his head, his shoulders relaxing. He places his helmet on the foot of the bed, and he takes a step towards you, the distance between the two of you narrowing. His eyes find yours, and he hesitates, the emotions flashing across his face, his mouth opening and closing. He seems conflicted, and there's something there, a question that he wants to ask, but he can't. You can see it in the way he's looking at you, the worry plain on his features. And so, you decide to give him an out.

"Come on," you say. You jerk your head toward the empty chair next to you. "Have a seat."

He frowns, but he does as you ask, taking a seat next to the bed. The silence stretches on, the tension mounting, and you can tell he's still debating what he wants to say, his brow furrowed. He doesn't seem to be getting anywhere with his internal battle, and you sigh, the impatience rising. "Rex."

"Permission to speak freely, sir," he blurts out. The words come out in a rush, and he winces before squaring his shoulders and looking you straight in the eye.

"Of course," you tell him, and your brow furrows, the worry starting to seep through. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," he says. He pauses, and his frown deepens. "No. No, it's not. I...I wanted to apologize, sir."

You're taken aback, and you blink, the surprise registering on your face. "For what?"

"For putting you in harm's way," he says, and his expression is serious, his jaw set, his eyes never leaving yours. "For not believing you, when you tried to tell me about the danger. For not trusting you. If I had, we could've avoided the entire situation, and none of us would've been in any danger. And, if you hadn't pushed me out of the way, then—"

"Hey, stop," you interrupt. You reach over and cover his hand with yours, and he stops, his eyes widening. You smile, and you squeeze his fingers, hoping that the touch will reassure him. "It's okay."

"But, I—"

"No," you say firmly. You let go, and you sit up straight, the mask slipping back into place. "This isn't your fault, Rex. It was mine."

"Sir," he protests.

"I'm serious," you insist. "I could've told you what was happening, and I didn't. I kept it to myself, and I made the wrong decision, and it nearly got us both killed. So, if anything, I should be the one apologizing to you."

"You were trying to protect me."

"And look where it got us," you snap. The frustration is creeping back, and you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing the emotions down, the anger and the hurt. "I'm sorry. I just...I should've been more careful."

"Maybe," he concedes. He's silent for a moment, his gaze drifting, and he shifts in his chair. "Or maybe not. We might not be here, if you had."

You're not sure what to say, and you can't help the guilt, the regret. You could've done something different, could've done more. But in that moment, the only thing you'd been able to think about was saving Rex. Saving him, even if it meant risking your own life. And, deep down, you can't bring yourself to regret that. Not entirely.

"I guess we'll never know," you say softly.

"I guess not."

You sit there, staring at each other, the silence stretching. Neither of you seems to know what to say, the awkwardness hanging in the air.

Finally, Rex breaks the tension, clearing his throat. "In any case, thank you. For saving my life."

"Don't mention it," you reply, and you grin, the smile coming easily. "Besides, I told you I owed you one. Two, actually."

"You didn't," he insists, and he gives you a small, crooked smile, his eyes sparkling. "You still don't."

"If you say so."

You glance around the room and take in your surroundings. The space is quiet, and the ship is flying through hyperspace, the blue light flickering over the walls. It's peaceful, and for the first time since the battle, you feel a sense of calm settling in.

You turn back to Rex to find him watching you, his expression soft, and you smile. "So, tell me what I've missed. What happened after I passed out?"

Rex spends the next hour telling you about the battle. The 104th had arrived mere moments after you fell unconscious, and most of the men on the ground were able to retreat. Ahsoka had resisted orders to abandon her push into the center of the battle, and it had nearly cost the lives of her and her men. She was awaiting punishment at the hands of the Council upon your return, and Rex could tell that Anakin was still fuming over the disobedience. The planet had been lost, and the casualties were mounting. It was a disheartening end to what had begun as such a hopeful mission.

You had barely escaped the carnage, the ships limping back through the blockade and into the safety of hyperspace. Now, you were on your way back to Coruscant, and the trip would take several days. You weren't looking forward to facing the Council, but there was nothing else to be done. You would deal with the fallout, and move on. You had to.

"I'm sure the Jedi Council will be lenient with her," Rex says, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. "She's still young, and she's a good soldier."

"That's not going to matter," you sigh. "Ahsoka disobeyed direct orders. There are consequences for that. I'm not sure what they'll do, but..." Your voice trails off, and you look away, your jaw clenched. "They'll do what they think is necessary. They always do."

Rex's expression grows concerned, and his brow furrows, his gaze searching yours. "Have you spoken to them about what happened?"

"No."

"Then, how do you know what they'll do?" he asks, his frown deepening. "Do you think they'll punish you, too?"

"Probably."

"What?"

"Look," you say. You pause, and you take a breath, the weariness settling in. "I know the Council, and I know how they work. They're not going to let this go. They're not going to be happy about what happened."

"That doesn't mean they'll punish you," Rex counters. "You're one of the best fighters they have. You've helped them countless times."

"That doesn't matter," you say. You shake your head and look down at your hands, your fingers intertwined, your thumbs rubbing together. "It's not about the work. It's about the principle. The fact that I made a choice that they wouldn't have. That I put myself before the mission. They're not going to like that."

"You put me before the mission," he says quietly.

"Yes," you agree. You meet his gaze, and you hold it, the honesty written on your face. "I did."

He stares at you, his eyes wide, his mouth open. He looks as though he's seen a ghost, and you can't help the chuckle, the sound escaping before you can stop it.

"Are you...are you laughing?" he asks. His tone is incredulous, and he seems torn between being offended and joining you, a smile tugging at his lips. "This is not funny."

"It is a little," you say, and the laugh grows, the mirth bubbling up. "Just a bit."

"It's not," he says. But his voice is lighter, and the corners of his mouth are turning upward, and he can't quite hide the smile. "Stop laughing. It's not funny."

"Okay, okay," you concede, and you hold up your hands in surrender, the laughter dying. "It's not funny."

He glares at you, his lips twitching, and the expression sends another round of giggles through you, and you have to bite your lip, the grin spreading across your face. "I'm sorry. Really."

He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, and then, he's smiling, his eyes sparkling, and you can't help but think how handsome he is. How the laughter suits him, and how much happier, and younger, it makes him look. You wish you could see it more often.

"You're something else," he mutters. But his tone is fond, and the look he gives you is warm, his eyes soft. "Really."

"Thanks," you reply, and your smile grows. "So are you."

"Thanks." He chuckles and looks away, and you're not sure, but you think you catch the hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. He takes a breath, and his expression sobers, his eyes meeting yours. "Seriously, though, you didn't have to do that."

"I know."

"You didn't have to put yourself in danger," he continues.

"I know," you say again.

"You shouldn't have," he insists. "You shouldn't have risked your life for mine."

"I would've done the same for any one of the men," you reply. "Or anyone else who was in trouble. I'm a Jedi. It's my job."

"Still," he says softly. "You didn't have to."

"I did," you tell him. You meet his gaze, and you hold it, the truth written on your face. "And I would do it again."

Rex doesn't respond. He doesn't say anything. Instead, he looks at you, and you stare back, neither of you speaking. It's not uncomfortable, and there's no tension. Just the quiet, and the understanding. He knows why you did what you did, and, while he may not like it, or approve of it, he's grateful. And that's enough.

After a moment, he nods. And that's the end of the conversation.

He stands, and he picks up his helmet, turning to leave. But something keeps him from going. He looks at you, his expression hesitant, and then he reaches into one of the pouches of his utility belt.

"I almost forgot," he says. Rex walks back over to you, and his fingers withdraw a gold chain. Your breath catches at the familiar sight of the blue stone pendant dangling in front of you. "The medics found this on you when they were transferring you to bacta. Kix asked me to hold onto it for you.”

You swallow and take the necklace, running your fingers over the smooth surface, the cool metal a comforting weight in your palm. You feel a flash of guilt, and your heart sinks. You hadn't even thought about it.

"A gift from General Kenobi, sir?” he asks quietly.

“Hm?” you hum, nearly missing his words in your distraction. You look up, and Rex is watching you, a strange look on his face. "Oh. No, no this was my Master’s. It’s…the only thing I have left of her. Thank you, Rex."

Rex nods, and the tension in his shoulders relaxes slightly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity and sympathy in his tone. You wrack your memory of the last ten years, and you realize you can't remember a single time anyone had said those words to you, not even Obi-Wan. They mean more than you ever thought they would, and you’re not prepared for the rush of gratitude and affection that falls over you in a wave.

"Thank you," you say again. "For everything."

"You're welcome," he replies. His gaze is still locked on yours, and there's a flicker of something, a shadow of an emotion that crosses his face. He hesitates, his fingers tapping his helmet, and then he takes a step back. "Just, be careful, sir."

"I will."

He nods and turns to leave. As he steps out into the corridor, he stops, and he glances back at you. "And...thank you again.”

"You would've done the same for me,” you point out.

"That doesn't matter," he replies. There's an edge to his voice, a stubbornness, but then he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Get some rest. We'll talk later."

The door slides closed behind him, and the room falls silent.

You lean back and close your eyes, the necklace still clutched in your fist. You feel something inside of you, a fluttering in your chest, a lightness, that feels almost foreign. You wonder if he felt it too.

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#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #obi wan x reader #roy writes #and by somewhere I mean the hospital #i was going to split these chapters but i decided against it last minute #i want to get out of felucia and get to the good stuff

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