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saltyladynightmare · 1 year

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Jiliu AU 9.2

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

Ori'Ana : mando'a/basic, a mix of Ori'vod, and Anakin, basically naming him Older Brother Anakin, just as the suffix -'ika makes 'younger Brother' from Vod'ika

/italics/ : thoughts, emphasis

bold : talking though the Force, because why not

Chapter 9 is not completely finished, but chapter 10 is an idea. If anyone has any ideas for scenes in which the Vod'e are learning how to use the Force, please feel free to contact me or leave a comment. So far, all of my ideas involve various troopers launching themselves into walls when they jump/run/do something too fast. It gets monotonous after a while.

Warnings:

Anakin is a lonely string bean. He also has no trust in the Jedi, because I was salty when i started writing this, and must stick to my guns. Mentioned mistreatment of the Coruscant Guard.

~~~~~~

Fox commed at 0003. When Anakin accepted the comm, he was unsurprised to find it was only audio. Fox was using the comm built into his helmet; the one with top tier GAR encryptions, assigned to each Clone Commander. Exactly as careful as Anakin had hoped.

"General Skywalker," Fox greeted.

"Commander Fox," Anakin returned easily. If titles were what Fox wanted to use right then, than Anakin had no problems letting him lead the conversation in a direction that would make him most comfortable. "I'll warn you now; this isn't a social comm."

"Your earlier comm conveyed that, sir," Fox assured gruffly.

Oh, good. "I know you're busy, so I'll do my best to keep this brief," Anakin started. "Due to..." whatever in the name of the Force had happened, "...an incident on my last mission, I'm on medical leave for the foreseeable future."

"What?" Ah, there's Ori'vod Fox, as Anakin knew and adored. Never mind that Anakin was a little under nine years older than him. Elder Sibling was a mindset, not a birth order, even if he and Fox had a weird tendency of tossing that particular title back and forth like a live grenade.

"I'm fine," Anakin stated. "I'm not dying, or even lightly maimed. I'm moving around on my own, and I'm not on bed rest." Anakin inhaled to continue, but hesitated. He cursed himself. This is Fox. Anakin can tell him this kind of thing without being judged for more than being a little bit of an idiot. He was pretty sure. But really, even if he was wrong and Fox did judge him, what dignity did Anakin have left? "I'm currently confined to a heavily shielded room in the Healing Halls, because the Force is suddenly excruciatingly loud and my body responds appropriately, but physically okay."

"Appropri—you're saying that your body is acting like its taking sonic damage?"

Anakin grinned. "Yes. Good news is: there is a possible treatment option, but I'm probably not going to see results for a few days if it does actually work." It'd work. Anakin would make sure of it, even it meant hemorrhaging energy into the Force itself. He would not stay in this room for a moment longer than necessary. "In the mean time, I've been confined to a heavily shielded room with limited access to the outside, and a To Do list longer than a venator-class cruiser. I was wondering if the Guard was able or willing to assist my men in getting some of the things on my list completed."

Fox went quiet for several beats. Anakin bit his lip to force himself to remain silent, giving Fox enough time to process.

It didn't take him long. "You'll want Guide," Fox stated.

"If he's willing," Anakin agreed.

Fox concurred, "If he's willing." The crackle of flimsy shuffling fizzed through the admittedly shoddy speakers of Anakin's make-shift comm. "I can arrange for four Vod'e to be available at oh-six hundred today."

"Excellent." Anakin hauled his aching body up onto the chair behind him, and reached for one of the closer, mostly blank datapads. "If you could comm me with the names of the four, I'll wright up instructions to send them."

"Will do."

Nerves rolled in Anakin's gut, but he shoved them away. Fox is reasonable, and if he turns Anakin away, that's on him, he reminded himself. "While we're talking," he started forcefully casual, "does the Guard need anything? We're aiming mostly for medical supplies and food, but I want to introduce Torrent to little bit of everything."

Fox hummed contemplatingly. Anakin tapped a free finger against the datapad. Fox didn't need to think about what the Guard needed; he knew because he was a good Commander. He was staling because, like most competent people who'd been spurned before, Fox was hesitant to ask for anything like assistance.

"Ten crates of food, and three crates of medical supplies," he said eventually.

"No problem." Anakin typed the requests into the 'pad one-handed, making a note to triple that if at all possible, and maybe see about getting them a quick sweet snack they could stash in their utility belts. It was the least he could do.

While he typed this, and Fox filed his mountains of datawork, something pings softly on Fox's side of the comm. A moment later, Fox told Anakin, "Guide has agreed to act as a guide."

Anakin grinned. "Well, that's one thing off my mind. And the other three?"

"Pending."

"Ok." Anakin thought about ending the conversation there with a reminder to comm him when Fox had confirmation. Something in him rebelled at the idea. It wasn't a big deal to stay on the line with Fox, it had been awhile since they had talked. And, if Anakin was honest with himself, he really didn't want to be alone right then anyway. If Fox wants to end the comm, then he can, Anakin decided. Until then, they could sit in silence.

Absently humming to himself, Anakin pulled his To Do lists toward himself, and woke up the one with his personal long term list to add a note to talk to Rex about supporting the Guard the next time Torrent got leave on Coruscant.

The idea was to not only help the Guard so they could actually get a few eight hour sleep cycles in a row if they so chose, but also to ensure Torrent understood the Guard were not data processors, or flimsy pushers.

Not that Anakin had heard Torrent's opinion on the Guard, or if they even had an opinion. Still.

Anakin had heard more than a few troopers' thoughts of them, and it had not been good. Best nip that at the bud, really. Especially when such opinions came from ignorance and misinformation.

"The other three have gotten in contact with me," Fox stated abruptly. Anakin twitched in surprise, before blinking at the comm in his mech hand. Right. He was still on a comm. "They've agreed to provide assistance. Sending their comm codes now."

The comm vibrated in Anakin's hand, metal against metal, signifying an incoming text comm. A quick check shows the new comm code, all helpfully labeled.

"I have them," Anakin tapped the tiny screen with his thumb to save the codes.

"All four of them are currently available, General," Fox stated.

Ah. Time to get to work, it seemed.

"Understood, Fox. I'll leave you to your datawork," Anakin assured the Commander. "Hopefully, I'll see you before I get shipped out again, should everything conclude as expected."

"Yes, sir."

And Fox is done for the day. Commander Fox will keep going because he must, but Vod Fox needed either his allotted five hours of sleep or several cups of kaf before he could produce anything like social skills. Understandable. In his place Anakin would be a walking corpse all the time instead of only in the last six hours of his thirty-two hour shift.

"K'oyacyi, Fox." Anakin hit the button that'd end the call before the exhausted man could reply, hoping against logic the man would get some rest some time soon. Stay alive, Fox, stay alive.

Anakin breathed deep, held it, then let it out slowly as he set the comm on the table top.

Fox was a grown man, he'd live this long, he'd survive a few more days if he had anything at all to say about it; this Anakin knew.

Trusting this was, as always, more difficult than Anakin could say. He did it anyway. He must.

Anakin sighed, and picked up the comm again.

He tapped the screen a few times, calling up the comm codes Fox had sent him, then selected the one that looked the most familiar.

Hopefully, this would be Guide.

The comm rings once, then clicks to signify it had been answered.

"CT-5155."

Anakin smiled at the crisp acknowledgment. "Good morning, Guide. Eat anything interesting recently?"

Guide perked right up. "Ori'Ana!"

"Upani," Anakin returned warmly. "Fox said you had agreed to assist my men in our endeavors?"

"Torrent, right? Yes, I did," Guide affirmed. "Do you have plan for tomorrow, sir?"

"Less plan, more To Do List. If I give you the comm code of the other three volunteers, could you add them to this call?" Anakin smiled sheepishly. "My...device is a little limited."

"No problem!"

In short order, Guide linked in three other Vod'e.

Immediately, in the manner of siblings everywhere disturbed by another particularly daring sibling, they started complaining.

"What in the name of the Force is this supposed to be?" It wasn't until the unspoken threat crackled through the tiny speakers on his comm that Anakin realized exactly who he had on comm.

"A debriefing!" Anakin chirped.

The comm went silent. Then—

"Commender?"

"Sir?"

"Ori'Ana!"

The three Vod'e try to out speak the others, but it was Guide's near demented giggling that won out in the end. Anakin grinned.

"The one and only! It's good to know you three are still among the living," he greeted. "My understanding is that the four of you have volunteered to act as guides for my men as they run errands?"

"We did, sir, although I hadn't known the Favor Commander Fox mentioned was to you," Ka'ahk stated.

Faze, Guide, and who Anakin could only assume to be Slip, Guide's newest not-so-shiny partner after his last one had learned all he could from Guide about the lower levels of Coruscant, named such for his ability slip out of any sort of sticky situation Guide might fling himself, and thus his partner, into, murmured their agreement.

Heh. "Classic Fox move there," Anakin observed. "Now, as I told Guide earlier, I have a To Do list I both need and want completed before I ship out—"

The next few hours are spent going over what, exactly, the four Guardsmen would be helping his men with over the next few days. When they need to sign off to get their scheduled five hours of sleep—and, oh, did he both await and dread the moment Kix caught wind of that little detail— Anakin began messaging and comming his lower level connections to arrange for a drop of disguises that would make the men less obviously clones by midday.

That done, he messaged the four Guard Vod'e with the coordinates of the drop, and the instructions on how to get them. Then, he messaged his Command Staff with the details of what he had done.

Breathing in deep, Anakin forced himself to set his comm down. He checked his To Do lists, and grumbled at finding there really wasn't much more he could do at—he glanced at the clock and cringed—0347 in the morning.

A quick evaluation of himself revealed he was /way/ too wound up to even consider sleeping right then.

Okay, now what?

He plopped his chin on his palm, eyes wondering around the walls the light from his datapad barely touched. He could work on the mousedroid, or stretch some. Except he didn't really want to do either of those things.

So what else—ah. His eyes land on the neat pile of holocrons in the center of the table.

Rex had left him the list of questions he couldn't answer before, right?

He looked at the clock again.

Yeah, he had time.

With a flex of his fingers the holocron on top lifted up and came to hover before him. A twist in the force here, and a press there, and its seals cracked open, allowing greenish white light to escape. It swirled gently, then twisted up and around into a humanoid figure in armor.

Anakin sat back. "Hello, General."

"Greetings, General."

#jiliu au #start wars prequels #star wars #clone wars #cc 1010 #commander fox #fox #original clone troopers (mentioned)#anakin skywalker #anakin is half force #anakin needs a hug #anakin has insomnia #holocrons #army of light #force bonds

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saltyladynightmare · 1 year

Text

Jiliu AU 9.1

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

Ori'Ana : mando'a/basic, a mix of Ori'vod, and Anakin, basically naming him Older Brother Anakin, just as the suffix -'ika makes 'younger Brother' from Vod'ika

/italics/ : thoughts, emphasis

bold : talking though the Force, because why not

Warnings:

Anakin is a lonely string bean. He also has no trust in the Jedi, because I was salty when i started writing this, and must stick to my guns

~~~~~~

A little under an hour after his Command Staff had left when visiting hours ended, Anakin had dry eyes, a crick in his upper back, and three different To Do lists.

One, he would be sharing with Rex and his—their?—lieutenants. It mostly consisted of a few lists of the things they should focus on getting, what they hoped to get, and what would be nice to get.

Anakin had asked them to leave the datapads behind when they left so he could add more details as he thought of them. They had covered a lot, but he knew he would think of more.

The second was for himself, preferably before their next mission. This one mostly had notes on what datawork he'd need to go over for Torrent. Tying any loose ends that might reach out and strangle them down the line because they dared to look for resources outside of official channels. It also had reminders to finish finding the answers to the questions the men wanted, and maybe answer some of his own. He also wanted to arrange a supplies drop for the Guard, because while Anakin had taught them some tricks on how to get food on their own—which is why he thought to teach Torrent—and he'd given them something of a stockpile, it had been three weeks. Better to be on the safe side.

If every single Vod in Torrent chose to bond with him—and they might not, he reminds himself firmly—it would take about eleven days to get through all of the men. Eleven days to do all of that wasn't a whole lot of time, but Anakin had dealt with worse, and would do so again.

The last list was also for Anakin, but for more long term. So far, it only had a few things on it, making it the shortest list, by far. Primarily, to see if his hypothesis on whether or not he could use his own over abundance of Force Juice to boost his men's own connection with the Force was possible. Secondly, armor. There must be a way to improve that blasted armor across the whole of the GAR.

He added things to the appropriate list, or the near manuals the men had been typing before they'd had to leave, as he thought of them. He has never typed so fast in his life, he was sure.

It was going to be very satisfying to check things off as they were completed.

Which was why he decided to send a message to Fox, asking if he would be available for a comm the moment Anakin remembered he'd wanted to do so. It didn't need to be official, and since Fox didn't mind text comms, Anakin could probably even ensure there would be less of a chance any of the Jedi would discover Fox had anything to do with their plans. The Guard had enough going on, they did not need the extra scrutiny.

Fox, the overachiever, texted back within thirty seconds.

CC-1010: I'll be in my office at 0000

K-AS-6367: Excellent.

K-AS-6367: We can continue this conversation when you aren't likely to get shot.

CC-1010: Affirmative

Anakin's mouth ticked up in one corner, and he absently tapped the side of his scrap-comm fondly.

Anakin had missed him. No nonsense, and mostly no fun as he was, Fox was a good man; steady in a way that Anakin didn't remember having ever felt in a sentient before, and flexible as only a thinking, breathing person could be. It had been a little under a month since Anakin had been shipped off to Torrent, but they hadn't had more than a few short conversations over text in that time.

He'd wait until Fox commed him. This wasn't the sort of thing he wanted Fox to talk about in the open, even if it was over heavily encrypted easily corruptible text.

As soon as Anakin set the comm down, metal chunking lightly against the wood of the table top, the lights flicked off, all at once.

Ak!

His heart just about reared up to strangle him, and the resulting flinch sent claws of pain carving up and down his arm from the yanked IV, but also lacing through his entire body in protest of his aching muscles and ligaments. Razor edged readiness sliced through his mind, cutting and almost gentle in its icy sharpness.

It took a few seconds once his usual flare of surprise and pain died down for him to reassert his reasoning abilities.

He forced himself to breathe at the speed Obi-Wan had taught him to use for meditation so long ago. If it was too fast, and shaky, he forgave himself. He wasn't safe here, and he had a bad habit of forgetting he was not, even when he was alone.

Especially when at the mercy of Masters.

Once the white noise buzzing in his ears died down, as it had every evening since he woke up in this room, Anakin became aware of his comm flashing on the table top where he'd left it.

He blinked at it, fuzzily wondering who had his scrap comm code.

Wait. He'd programmed in his Jedi number and his personal when the healers hadn't given him his comm when he'd proven himself coherent, hadn't he.

Well, at least he knew it wasn't Obi-Wan. They would have told him he didn't have a comm, so far as they knew.

Reassured, Anakin picked up the hunk of junk, more with the force then his half numb fingers, and woke the thing up.

Immediately, it pulled up his new message.

Kix! Anakin perked up a bit.

CT-6116 : Status, General

He wilted again. Medical stuff. Of course.

Wait.

K-AS-6367 : You felt that?

Just as he hits the send button, Anakin became aware of his bonds, all at once.

Anakin had dropped the majority of the shielding on his new bonds the instant the door had closed behind his men. Partly because all six of them had proven to be sensitive to the shielding, but it was mostly for selfish reasons, Anakin can admit to himself with some reluctance. He had soothed over the sting of giving in to his own selfish wants with platitudes; there were two shields between them, it would be fine. He'll put them back up before he went to sleep. If he went to sleep.

It'd be fine.

Except it wasn't, because Anakin had forgotten his curfew.

Of course, they had felt his response to lights off.

Yes, the men were seventeen point four klicks and two heavy duty shields away, but that would have only mattered a little a week ago. Some concentration and he would have been able to send anything he wanted down any of his bonds, but it would have had to be deliberate.

Now? He had four times his previous Sensitivity. Those same shields were like particularly dense flimsy to him now. Force knew he'd had no choice but to layer his own shields to wring even an ounce of functionality from his brain even behind these once impressive artificial shields.

Anakin was typing almost before he finished the thought.

K-AS-6367 : Nevermind.

K-AS-6367 : Clear. Just surprised.

It wasn't long before the reply came, accompanied by a near buzzing displeasure over the bond. The promise behind the text was hardly shocking.

CT-6116 : I'll see you in the morning, sir.

Satisfied Kix wouldn't message again, Anakin put the comm to sleep, slumping.

He breathed in deep, held it for a count of three, then slowly released it. He let the guilt of his negligence stream out between his teeth too. He inhaled again, held for three beats, grabbed the shields he'd so selfishly dropped, then exhaled, pulling them up.

Anakin was fully capable of learning from his mistakes. It was quite possibly the only reason he was still alive, between that and his sheer jaw dropping luck.

Anakin liked to think it had more to do with the former, if only because he had a lot more control of that, but he had long since decided it was a waste of energy to think about what might be, instead of simply accepting what was.

He made a mistake. He would learn from it, and move forward.

Putting his comm to the side, Anakin gathered the holocrons with the Force, and settled on the floor with a sigh. He ignored the creaking aches through out his body with the ease of long practice, instead deliberately arranging the holocrons to hover in the most geometrically sound pattern around himself.

Best get back to it.

#jiliu au #start wars prequels #clone wars #star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin needs a hug #force bonds #force sensitive clones #anakin is half force #kix #clone medic kix #clone trooper kix #ct 6116 #cc 1010 #fox #commander fox

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saltyladynightmare · 2 years

Text

Jiliu AU 8.1

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

Long time, no read, my dear audience. I could give you many, many excuses, but I won't. I'll spare you the salt. I hope this chapter, long though it might be, makes up for some of the wait. I have missed writing. More is to follow.

Warnings:

Anakin, Rex and Jesse all think they know things but they don't, even though they can now technically read each other's minds. My typical grammar, spelling and punctuation mistakes, medical inaccuracies, my attempts at writing panic attacks (or the left overs of panic attacks? Was that last chapter? IDK, there is so much here. It might be anxiety????), the clones' situation in general. Mention of starvation, over working, sleep dep, and all the other fun times the Guard go through. Evil Rats.

Also. I cannot write Hardcase to save my life. I love him, but I don't understand him. It is Becoming a Problem. It is incredibly upsetting. If anyone has any character study recs for him, I would be very happy to read them.

~~~~~~

The General handed one of the many, many datapads scattered across the table to Ridge, gesturing expressively with his hands, mouth moving a click a second.

Rex sipped at the water that was so important to his jetii, watching his men and their General interact thoughtfully.

They were reviewing Skywalker's ideas for shielding. The General had vetoed his earlier 'solar system' idea himself for reasons that weren't entirely clear to Rex—something about closed circuits?— but had quickly moved on to explaining a technique he was describing as layered mirrors. While he talked, he swiped through no less than fourteen different datapads scattered across the table top, leaving them open to various documents from the Jedi Archives that apparently supported his idea. As if any of them cared about what the holobooks said.

For his part, Rex had taken a step back.

He had never seen General Skywalker like this outside of the heat of battle, when he shed the cloak of Adviser and Force Sensitive Wild Card he had wrapped himself in so tightly since—Rex really, really hoped—well before he had been assigned to Torrent.

Oh, sure, Rex had seen brief flashes of it in campaign planning in the three weeks he had known him, but it rarely became more than an interesting fact about the local culture that revealed where the heaviest defenses would be, or pointing out what the air currents must be with the land scape being what it was, and even a warning to avoid a then-unknown droid infested valley once.

Anakin Skywalker, newly Knighted Jedi General, adamantly left the planning to Rex and his Lieutenants.

If he was honest with himself, and Rex tried to be, the only reason Rex knew Skywalker was holding himself back was because of what happened when Rex's plans failed.

Every time, without fail, General Skywalker stepped up, and started barking orders. When they needed a miracle, he pulled one out of thin air, or possibly even the Force. As a suicide company, they often needed miracles. Somehow, someway, it worked out better than Rex could have ever hoped...even if the General's plans were more than a little fish-brained. This last mission was just the latest in a string of bad missions.

Bottom line was that it worked. Every. Single. Time. Rex didn't understand it, but he was well past the point of caring now.

He just wished...he could have a genuine conversation with the mind that could spit out fully formed strategies between one moment and the next. Except the General had stepped onto the Resolute with walls sealed water tight around his center.

Then-Rex hadn't cared. Here was just one more being for him to work around. Here was an obstacle that could and likely would order his vod'e to their deaths if given half a reason, or even no reason at all.

Then-Rex was wrong.

Rex had asked himself more than a few times on various missions if his attitude been the thing that well and truly cut him off from the General. Was it something Rex had done? Or was it a learned behavior from well before Rex had ever known Anakin Skywalker existed?

Rex knew which he hoped it wasn't, even if the alternative was worse in regards to the General's life before Torrent, which was already looking pretty bleak to begin with. Lonely.

Kix's exhausted voice draws Rex out of his thoughts. "It all sounds feasible to me, General," he said. "How should we begin?"

The General nods. He was...nervous, Rex realized with surprise. Anxious, almost.

"We can try the shielding in a little while, then, when you've all settled a little more," the General says, no hint of his nerves in his voice. Kix didn't look at Rex, but he could still feel the glare. Rex narrows his eyes at the medic. What was he supposed to do—convince the telepath that they could handle an experiment not even half an hour after he'd sliced into their heads? Right. "In the mean time, we have a few decisions to make. There are choices. We need supplies, and from what I can tell, we aren't getting them, and we won't be." Ghost Blue eyes, only a few shades off from Torrent Blue if their paint looked like it glowed, flick from Vod to Vod.

They nod in agreement, because denying it would do them and their vod'e no favors.

"Our first choice is this: we can either make do with what we get..." The General trails off, near buzzing with the nervousness he wasn't showing. When they don't say anything, simply waiting, he continues. "Or...we get those supplies outside of...official channels."

Rex's spine snapped straight. What?

Jesse cleared his throat. "That's...not a bad idea..." he said quietly.

Ridge crossed his arms, frowning. "Maybe not, but how do you propose we do that?"

The General shrugged almost helplessly. He probably hadn't expected them to take him seriously. It was a trend Rex might've actually hated. Admittedly, if they had been any other group of Vod'e, he likely would have had his work cut out for him convincing them to take this course, but they were Torrent. They had been on their own for long enough to seize any chance to add any amount of padding separating themselves and Death at every opportunity. "I have some ways...I know some people," he admitted sheepishly. "It takes work, but," his eyes met Rex's, and his mouth curved into a hint of a smile, "I don't think any of you have a problem with that."

They did not.

They couldn't afford to.

Denal watched the General somberly. "If we had been assigned to another command, were you planning on giving us this information?"

Anakin shrugged again, and he ducked his head down uncomfortably. "I was going to direct you to Guide. He's a Vod in the Coruscant Guard—"

Rex blinked, baffled. Why would he direct them to a Corrie?

"—and I've shown him a lot of...this kind of thing." The General fiddled with some of the wires on his table. Rex watched his fingers, tracking the slight hitch of the new mechanical fingers. Where had his other mech hand gone? It had been a much better quality. Rex pointedly ignored the insistence in the back of his mind telling him that the General did not fidget, that for him to be doing so now said /something/, even if Rex did not know what. "If you decide this is a good way to go, I'm still going to involve him because I...still can't leave this room without having a seizure."

Everyone winced. Coming out of hyperspace had been unpleasant for everyone.

The General continued, unbothered. "To get raw credits, sabacc or other card games are possibilities, as is betting on various pod races, though the latter is a lot more likely to get you arrested. Credits aren't really necessary, because several of the people I'll be sending you to are usually more than pleased to trade services for goods," he explained, fingers twisting wires and fingernails screwing tiny screws in place. Was he actually building something? "Those goods can then be traded for other things that we can actually make use of, or even trade again for something else."

This all sounded very good. Rex really only saw one rather major obstacle.

Jesse piped up, voicing Rex's thoughts. "We may have issues getting to those places without you, sir." He met General Skywalker's eyes unflinchingly. Warning of danger ahead was his job as a scout, and the General had always heeded him before. "Not every place is as welcoming as the Temple."

The General nodded in agreement, then said rather dryly, "Helmets or masks with hoods are high fashion in those parts."

That...made sense.

Rex's men made their own noises of understanding, and the General went on.

"There are more places that are clone friendly than just 79s, Jesse," Skywalker—and it was Anakin Skywalker saying this, not General Skywalker—told him with the upmost seriousness, "and if we do this thing, than you're going to be visiting quiet a few of those places. Even if those places are homes of people who are more concerned about whether or not you take off you shoes before leaving the foyer, than if you have a perfectly unique face."

Hardcase fiddled with the cuff of his gloves. "Foyer?" He asked almost hesitantly. As hesitantly as Hardcase was about anything.

"Mm," The General hummed. "Foyer. There's a woman, an older Rodian, named Miz. Met her a few years ago, and fixed her air filters and cooling unit. Very good shot with her pistol, and vicious about keeping her spaces clean, so if you don't take your shoes at the door, she will shoot you point blank." Rex would be concerned about how amused the General sounded, but he had seen his jetti do and say crazier. "She's one of the better people at pointing me in the right direction when I'm looking for something in particular."

He looked them over them while they processed this.

One of the biggest challenges Torrent faced with every mission was limited medical supplies. Only having four official medics didn't help, but they could work with that. That being said, no medic, however capable, could do much of anything without even basic supplies, like bandages.

Another obstacle was weaponry. They had blasters for every trooper, but amo ran dry in the middle of missions far more often than anyone was comfortable with. Energy cells could be and were recharged before, during and after missions to alleviate some of that strain, but there was only so much they could do when the standard issue energy cells they were given stopped holding charge every five or so recharges.

Food was...also a concern. There was only so much they could do to stretch rations when under fire.

This...could work.

Rex's bones just about turned to gel, and it was only sheer willpower that kept him from running shaking fingers over his buzz. He had known Torrent had been missing out with the General holding himself back as he had been, but he will admit he hadn't realized the true extent of that truth until now.

Thank the Force Skywalker had finally decided to accept his place among them.

Maybe now they could show him what support felt like on the other end of it.

"How are you feeling now?" The General broke the silence that had settled over them. "Are you ready to learn how to shield a bond?"

No. They were not.

"As we'll ever be, sir," Jesse said anyway.

Hesitation touched the skin between the General's eyebrows. He had, of course, heard what they weren't saying, how they very much did not want to shield anything much less their brand new bonds, but visibly steeled himself, and began explaining the shielding process her had lead Rex himself through earlier.

Rex knew why the General was so insistent on the shielding; he did. He didn't want his jetii experiencing his nightmares either. This knowledge did not make forming and then /holding/ a shield up any easier.

Mind to mind wasn't quite the same with a wall between the participants.

Hoping to help his vod'e with this uncomfortable process, Rex wordlessly passed his understanding of Bond shielding along. The thanks they send back to him in the slant of their shoulders spoke volumes.

Eventually, all of them manage to erect 'thin' shields over their 'side' of the Force Bond under their own power. If the slight crinkles between eye brows, or slight dips in the corners of mouths and the slant of armored shoulders was anything to go by, each and every one of them was just as unhappy with the success as Rex himself was.

Curling into himself almost apologetically, but also looking like he didn't regret making them learn to shield the bond, the General rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. Rex caught his gaze, and held it. The General blinked at him, questioningly. Rex blinked back slowly.

What next, General?

The General stared into Rex's eyes blankly for several seconds. Rex watched in fascination as thoughts zipped through Skywalker's eyes faster than Rex could track. Raindrops on Kamino.

Anakin really wanted to know what Rex expected from him.

The thought flew out of nowhere to nail Rex right in the forehead, and he flinched back.

What in haren was that?

While Rex flailed mentally, scrambling, a new thought struck like lightning. Rex froze, a looming sense of terror rising to curl above him. He shoved it away. His vod'e's head snap around to pin him in place with glares of various intensities. Hardcase missed the mark entirely, but Denal's was particularly searching, and Kix's, as always, was by far the most fiery. He ignored them.

What could they do? Test it.

Skywalker—and he was Skywalker, Rex forcefully reminded himself, as that is how he introduced himself, and so that is what Rex would call him—was the one to voice it.

"If you can barely stand some of the lightest shielding I have ever seen..." he said slowly, "how are you going to handle having two heavy-duty artificial shields between us?"

Jesse swore. Hardcase swallowed hard, eyes darting from Vod to Vod before settling back on Rex again. Ridge stiffened, and Denal paled. Kix, the mir'sheb he was, just grimaced, not particularly surprised.

It would be nice if Kix would share his thoughts more often, Rex laminated to himself. If only so things would stop taking Rex by surprise so often.

Rex gathered himself, just long enough to feel more solid, then said what they were all thinking anyway. "We'll have to send two out to test it." The words came out of his mouth as anything did, but the film they left on his teeth and tongue was bitter. He put the glass of water, half finished, in a clear spot on the table. His fingers quivered slightly as they left the glass, so he curled them into his palm.

What else could they do? It wasn't like they could stay in this room forever. They had to go back to the rest of Torrent at some point.

Its not like they hadn't all lost vod'e before—they could survive it again. It would only be temporary.

The glaring, having slipped slightly at the General's question, snapped back to him, stronger than before.

Kix caught his eye, and Rex forced himself to breath, even as Jesse pulled Skywalker's attention to himself.

In, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, five, out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

The General is fine, Rex told himself. He doesn't feel dead anymore, hasn't since he had dropped whatever shield he had put up before. He's just...weirdly flat right now.

Distant, almost. Shielded.

It's not natural.

Rex shoved that thought down as far as it could go, and buried it under all the other oisk he wouldn't live long enough to deal with.

The General did not need to hear that. Ever.

Forcing himself to put down roots in the present, Rex turned his attention to his jetii, ignoring the ifs-ands-maybes clamoring for his consideration.

The General blinked, surprised and something else Rex couldn't name. Rex waited, mind carefully blank. The General's eye flick from Jesse, to Rex, then Kix, and back again. "Yeah," he said slowly, "alright. I can comm someone to show the pair around."

"That won't be necessary, sir," Denal said. He looked up from the datapad he had been scrolling through. The one the General had handed Ridge on shielding techniques, if Rex recalled correctly. "We downloaded the Temple map to our buckets when we were transporting you here."

The General raised his eyebrows. He had questions; Rex saw them. He didn't ask any of them. "Normally not," he agreed instead, "but if the chosen two go out and collapse, I imagine things would go much more smoothly if they had someone with them who knew to drag them back here, than if they didn't."

Denal tipped his head in silent acceptance. "Good point, sir."

Looking faintly amused, Skywalker said, "I have someone in mind for that," because of course he did, "but, ah—" at this, his eyes slid hesitantly over to Rex, then away again. "Should we first test my mirror shield idea to see if maybe we could get used to the feeling of shields? Those ones I can at least drop in a second," he offered.

The terror spiked again, but Rex stomped it flat. He forced himself to look at this logically. Rex was very good at being logical. He had raised himself to be that way, to compensate for his defect on Kamino.

He was very good at being logical. It never got easier.

"That is probably," the words grind on the way out, but they do come out, "the smart thing to do," Rex agreed carefully. He had everyone's attention now. Pieces moved together like rusty machinery, but he got them to fit. As he picked up speed, oxidized metal flaked off, smoothing the process. He nodded along with his thoughts as a fuzzy plan took form. "You said before, that your shielding idea was like overlapping armor pieces."

Skywalker nodded, eyes locked on Rex.

Rex raised his chin, and met him head on. "I take point."

Skywalker grinned. "Don't you always?"

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saltyladynightmare · 2 years

Text

Jiliu AU Part 8.4

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

this is the part I have been wanting to write since before I started. This right here. Please--enjoy.

Warnings:

spelling, grammar and other author-typical errors, hints of the awfulness of being a clone in the GAR, ... that’s it, I think

~~~~~~

At ten till 2100, the Vod'e left General Skywalker's room in single file, before falling into formation in the hall, Rex on point. They marched out of the shielded hall in lock step, then the Halls of Healing, as the Jedi insisted the giant medbay in the Temple be called. They met no resistance, and no one called for their attention.

Jesse, now the most familiar with the Temple, silently directed Rex down a hall that would shave a good five minutes from their travel time to the hanger they had parked their speeder in that morning.

Following the scout's intel, Rex kept quiet, mulling over all of the pieces he had collected over the last five and a half hours.

His vod'e waited him out.

They arrived at the hanger in short order, and quickly cross over to the speeder. Denal climbed into the pilot's seat, and the rest filled in the rest of the seats. He joins the out going traffic, and made a beeline for the barracks.

Finally, when they were about halfway there, Rex turned on his inner comms, linking up to their buckets.

"They General is acting like a cadet who just been assigned a new squad after loosing his old one." The words are flat, but Rex didn't quite trust himself to get the words out if he let himself feel anything except grim.

Kix hummed in agreement, and Jesse echoed it.

"What are we going to do about it?" Ridge asked.

"What we do for any Vod—" Denal started.

Hardcase finished, "—support him."

~~~~~~

After debriefing the rest of Torrent and sending them off to hit the racks, they settle together in their assigned officers quarters of the barracks in a vain attempt at alleviating the strange hollow feeling of being too far from the General. He should be here, with them, where they could watch his back, and he could watch theirs, where he would be safe—

Needless to say, it had only kind of helped.

They don't turn out the lights, though they knew they would need the shut eye. They all had entirely too much datawork to put off any longer. They hadn't brought any of it with them to The General's room that day, and while it had really been for the best—they had gotten so much done—it also meant they hadn't gotten any of their routine things done.

Jesse was grumbling over one of his scout's requisition forms, much to the rest of their amusement, when /something/ knifed directly though Rex's brain. He lunged for his DC-17's—all the way across the room with his neatly stacked armor; why in heran had he put them so far away?—on autopilot, even as his men did the same all around him, something in the back of his mind near screaming that /something was wrong/—

Rex yanked his blasters out of their holsters, and spun around on one knee, opposite foot planted flat for balance—only to jerk himself up short, before he can wave his blasters around like a di'kut.

His men were in similar positions all around the small room, blasters in hand, visibly confused.

There was no threat.

Kix all but dropped his DC-15A on the bunk he'd been laying on earlier, scrambling for his comm.

It clicked a second later for Rex. A quick glance at Denal's abandoned datapad shows it is 2201. Why had the General had a combat response when he's in the Jedi Temple?

Kix's fingers stabbed at his comm, rapid fire, and he sent it off, just as the other vod'e figure it out.

"We actually felt something from him?" Denal mumbled. Jesse shushed him, directing his attention to Kix, who was glaring down at his device, nearly vibrating in impatience.

In the very short period of time it takes for Kix's comm to ping back a reply, the tension had risen so quickly Rex had begun to eye his men, trying to figure out who would break and bolt for the temple first. He switched his blasters to stun in preparation.

Kix quickly read whatever the General has said, and he near snarled at the screen, even as two more pings came in, one right after the other. When he read those, he did snarl.

Moving quickly—he'd waited, but by the Force he needed to know what was going on—Rex set his left DC-17 down on the floor, and then snatched the comm from Kix's clawed fingers to read the messages.

CT-6116 : Status, General

K-AS-6367 : You felt that?

K-AS-6367 : Never mind.

K-AS-6367 : Clear. Just surprised.

Rex frowned. Was he surprised Kix could tell something had happened? Rex wondered. They were meant to be shielding, after all. Unless what ever had gotten the drop on the General had surprised him enough that he expected it to have passed their shields?

Jesse and Denal crowd in behind Rex to read over his shoulders, warm against his back.

"I don't buy it," Jesse said flatly. Denal huffed in agreement, but shuffled away to explain the situation in a hushed voice to a near vibrating Hardcase, and a carefully still Ridge while Rex thought this over.

He wasn't...feeling anything else, hadn't since that jolt that'd had him diving for his DC-17s, but...the General was behind two separate shields he classified as heavy duty, and they were 17 clicks from the Temple itself.

It was unreal they had felt anything at all, however strong in the Force the General was, much less something the General could honestly brush off as simple surprise.

Rex didn't buy it either.

Kix snatched his comm back and started stabbing angrily at the screen, typing out a reply. A quick glance showed what he had sent to the General.

CT-6116 : I'll see you in the morning, sir.

"I don't like this," Kix growled. Jesse wrapped his arms around the medic's shoulders, leaning into him. It didn't do much for Kix's mood, but it did help him pull himself together enough to force himself to clock his breathing.

"I don't care for it either, Kix, but we can't do anything for him until tomorrow." Rex said finally. In Rex's peripheral, Hardcase sagged against the bed he was leaning against and Ridge's and Jesse's shoulders slumped. "That being said," all eyes swung back up to lock on him, and he let his mouth tick up in the corner, "we can make a plan for tomorrow now just fine."

Kix met his eyes, and nodded once. "Where should we begin, Captain?"

They pile up on the floor half an hour later.

In the morning, Rex and Kix would go to the Temple, to their General, first thing.

Jesse would follow with a squad that consisted of either Nausea and his fellow card sharks, one of Torrent's two other medics, and Coric and three of his first aid specialists if they all agree to bonding with their jetii, or randomized volunteers determined by drawing lots if they don't, half an hour after them, both to ensure he had time to debrief them on what they would be doing once the Bonds settled, and to give Rex and Kix time to wring answers from the General. If all want well, and the Bonding went smoothly—and there was always a chance it wouldn't work—and after they had figured out how to shield their end of the bond, the squad would be helping the General do research, while attempting to keep him from overworking himself, or at the very least getting him to take breaks for food and water.

The other three would remain behind with the sole remaining medic to organize the rest of Torrent, and to see about restocking the Resolute. A boring job, to be sure, but a necessary one.

After all, they needed things to trade if they were going to be braving the lower levels of Coruscant.

Rex pressed his cheek into Ridge's thigh harder. The air nearly buzzed with the silence, for all that he could hear his vod'e breathing as they dropped into sleep, and the hum of the air filters working at full power. He matched his breathing with Denal's, and closed his eyes, resolutely ignoring the strangely familiar pulling, stronger than he had ever felt before, insisting something, someone, was missing, and if he only went to go get them—

The General would be on the Resolute where he belonged, with them, in short order. Rex just had to be patient.

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saltyladynightmare · 2 years

Text

Jiliu AU Part 8.3

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

Welcome! to the part of this chapter that refused to be pried from my subconscious like gum out of braces. I managed, but its not perfect, and it’s going to stay that way.

Since I began writing this, I have discovered How to Plot, and...this story has no real plot. I though about everything I want to cover, and decided: that is okay. I am here for fluff, and awesomeness, not story. I hope you all can forgive me.

That being said, Palpatine will not be dying in this book, unfortunately, because I cannot rehash the entire Clone Wars just so I have have my previously planned assassination. I might write a second thing for that, mostly because it is Awesome, if I do say so myself, and I haven’t really seen him die the way I want him to, and such a thing should exist. If you have thoughts, let me know, either in the comments on this post in my asks box.

On the plus side, we will be meeting Appo, who I adore in the few fanfics that actually bother to write him (understandable, but do you know what you could do with a guy named after Appa? The arrow tattoos alone...).

I dont think there are very many warnings for this part.

Mostly, just Anakin being angsty, and emotionally and socially incompetent. If any of you feel differently, let me know.

~~~~~~

On the second mission Anakin had convinced Obi-wan to bring him on, he had been left to guard their camp in a forest of tall trees and dense undergrowth for the night. The then Jed Knight had gone on ahead to evaluate the path they would take the following day with their hopefully rescued quarry.

For the first half hour or so, Anakin had been more upset about not being taken along than about being left alone. Now, having taught twelve years old himself, Anakin couldn't blame Obi-wan for his decision. The forest had been safe enough for a pre-teen with he Force and a lightsaber he was proficient with. Where Obi-wan had gone had been much less so.

Still. When the flare of wounded pride had died down in twelve-year-old Anakin, it had sunk in that it was the first forest he had seen with his own eyes that wasn't in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The first forest he had felt through the Force. The first time Anakin experienced just how dark it got under a dense canopy, surrounded on all sides by thick underbrush.

He had been alone on a planet he was excruciatingly unfamiliar with in many many ways because he and Obi-wan, as Jedi, had been sent to retrieve a political figure who was nearly the only thing standing between the entire planet and a massive fleet of pirates.

Pirates who dealt in spice, precious materials, parts, and murder.

Pirates who had a reputation of owning slaves.

And there he'd been. All of twelve years old, barely on his second mission, and while, yeah, he had been regularly venturing on his own into the lower levels of Coruscant on his own, that was Coruscant. You couldn't walk twenty meters without running into someone, most of whom did not have your best interests at heart, but you also couldn't take ten steps without coming across a new and strange escape route. Less, if you were small and got creative.

There? In that forest? Anakin could only think of maybe three ways he could go, and none of them had good odds.

Anakin had been fine in the end, which was only reasonable. No one except Obi-Wan had known where he was, they had been traveling by tree branch, and so hadn't left a trail to be followed on the ground for several miles, and Anakin had been 84.67% certain they had made it through the blockade without detection. There had been no reason for anyone to find him, because there was no reason to look.

It had still taken Anakin what felt like an impossibly long time to breath through his anxiety, his fear, of being alone on a planet he did not know the first thing about, silhouetted by bright sparking flames, exposed for anyone and anything that might come and claim him. Alone, with only his lightsaber, a cloak, and his tool kit. Even his comm hadn't worked well on that planet.

In the end, if had been the fire that pulled him out of what he learned hears later was a panic attack.

When one was trying to hide, light was not a good thing. Any Child of the Desert could tell you that soon after they could string sentences together reliably.

But they could also tell you that fire was more than just light.

Fire had been a rarity in the slave quarters, mostly because burnables had been just as rare, and there had always had more uses for juniper wood than just burning it. As such, fires had only been lit when someone had gotten married, or found a family thought lost, or, every once in a while, a Child's chains had been broken. Fire had meant dancing and celebrations for Anakin, growing up.

The snap pop of the wood, the crackle of flames was a sound he had only ever heard from fire, and he had no related bad memories for it to summon. The brilliant red orange gold of the flames flickered, casting ribbons of light and shadow dancing across his surroundings, casting his own shadow long and stretched behind him. Whatever wood he and Obi-wan had been burning had made the purple smoke smell like flowers. Sparks floated above his head, sparkling against the dark and smoke alike.

Most importantly, the fire had been hot. Hot enough to make Anakin warm for the first time in actual years. It had only taken a touch of the Force to cocoon himself in some of the heat radiating from the small fire.

Anakin remembered that fire fondly. Fires were still his favorite part of setting camp, whether it was just him and Obi-wan with nothing but their cloaks for shelter, or the entirety of Torrent or the 212th.

Ahsoka's Force Signature reminded Anakin of a campfire.

Bright, warm, beautiful, helpful.

Dangerous, burning, and with more potential for both good and bad than Anakin knew a single person could have.

Sometimes, Anakin found himself wondering if she was what a shatterpoint felt like.

Right then, Ahsoka's cheerfully crackling flames were on the other side of the door of the teeny tiny room Anakin couldn't leave.

With how sensitive he was, he had felt her getting closer, of course. Once she had passed the first shield outside his room, he'd been able to pin point her exact location, too. She still somehow crossed the distance from there to the other side of his door in less time than he had expected.

Had she been running? Why hadn't a Healer stopped her, like they always did unruly Padawans?

A quick glance at the nearest datapad told Anakin it had only been thirteen minutes since he had commed her. Impressive. Had she followed his Signature here, or the gossip mill?

She knocked on the door energetically again.

Ha. It seemed she hadn't learned politeness in his absence. Good for her.

"Your guide is here," Anakin announced, turning to Jesse and Ridge expectantly.

The men twitch at his words, then do the almost slump that is more in their emotions than in their shoulders Vod'e did when exasperated or whatever Basic word fit the feeling of having just missed a poorly aimed blaster bolt you had been more than ready to catch with your saber only to be let down by the opposing side's lackluster skills. Some kind of tension Anakin hadn't noticed until it was no longer humming against his shields and through his new bonds drained away.

Anakin's eyes flick from Vod to Vod. What had he just missed?

Catching that, Ridge shook his head. "Don't worry about it, sir." He got up, and moved around the table to prod at Jesse's leg. Jesse groaned theatrically, but hauled himself up to his feet with little difficulty. Ridge clicked his tongue, and knocked their vambraces together.

Vod'e did that instead of rolling their eyes when they didn't feel the need to hide. With how much time they spent in their helmets it only made sense. Physically rolling their eyes was for when they wanted to express themselves, without the risk of being caught. Though if they actually thought of that particular mannerism like that, Anakin would eat his robes.

Eyeing them speculatively, Anakin considered Ridge's suggestion for a moment, then accepts it. There was no lie in Ridge, not even a white lie, so he genuinely did not believe Anakin needed to worry about, and so Anakin would trust him.

Jesse scoffed at the younger Vod, and herded him around to where someone had at some point stacked all of their helmets, and fished both their buckets out. He rammed Ridge's helmet into his gut hard enough to make him grunt. Ridge scowled, and yanked his bucket out of Jesse's grasp, putting it on. Jesse chuffed while he dropped his own onto his head.

"See you in a few hours, Ridge," Denal jeered. "Or a few seconds."

"K'oyaacyi, vod'e," Hardcase called.

"Bye, Hardcase." Jesse said fondly. "You're my favorite vod."

Anakin snorted, and Kix tutted, while Ridge and Denal grin. Rex ducked his head, and Hardcase straight up laughed in Jesse's face.

"Kix is your favorite," Hardcase threw one of his ration bars at Jesse's head from where he had propped himself up in the bed nook. Jesse gasped, absently snatching the bar out of the air, radiating utter betrayal that was ruined by the undercurrent of amusement.

"Why you—" Jesse started, but Ridge, seemingly ready to go, just shoved him at the door. Jesse, hyper competent lieutenant of Torrent he was, made his overdramatic flailing useful and smacked the door keypad when he was close enough.

Anakin stomped on the flinch summoned by the rush that floods though the door, and took a moment to be very glad he was not attached to a heart monitor. That would have been embarrassing, to have everyone hear how his hear stuttered under the strain of a door opening. Since the healers could feel his Force Signature even with the two artificial shields and Anakin's own shields up and running, it wasn't needed. It was, however, part of why he usually fixated on something before the door opened. He had...forgotten to do that this time.

Which means everyone in the Temple felt him flinch. Fantastic.

When the door closed behind Torrent's scout and comm technician, the strain they both felt was immediate. It echoed down the bonds to rattle Anakin's layered mirrors, just as Ahsoka's delight, bright-brilliant-burning, seared across his solid outer shields.

Both men dropped the gossamer-fine shields he'd had to coax them into putting up in the first place like thermal detonators. As they should.

If they don't remember how to put them back up again, he could walk them through it when they got back. They had learned it quickly enough the first time, it wouldn't be a big deal to do it again. The point of this exercise was to see if the Vod'e could leave his room without having panic attacks, not to increase their already impressive self-discipline.

One less shield, however, didn't seem to help.

After a few beats, Anakin carefully peeled back his own gossamer shields between his mirror layers, one by one. Then, when that only helped a little, he dropped an entire layer of mirrors on each bond.

The relief from both men was immediate, a breath of fresh air after too long in a spice mine.

Anakin let himself settle a little.

The four men still in his room murmured to each other, while Anakin waited until he felt Ahsoka, Ridge and Jesse pass the second shield. When they did, and nothing like alarm or the flatness of unconsciousness came from the bonds, Anakin pulled himself back into his body.

He had to trust Jesse and Ridge to handle themselves, and he had to trust Ahsoka to bring them back even if they reach their limits without realizing. There wasn't much else he could do.

Even if it did feel like the bonds groaned ominously against the burden of stretching through two heavy duty shields so soon after completion.

Hopefully, Ahsoka would think to bring them to a refractory, and bring lunch back for the others. Hopefully, they'll like Ahsoka. Couldn't imagine why they wouldn't, Ahsoka was fantastic, and his favorite student—not that he would ever say that out loud.

Even if he wasn't going to be a Jedi long enough to take her as his Padawan, give her the training she wanted, needed, deserved, it would still be nice if his new and old people liked each other.

Now that was a strange thought.

His people.

He could get used to it.

"So." Anakin flexed his fingers, and smiled at his men. "Shall we?" At their nods of agreement, he dug up several blank datapads, or ones that were close enough to such for this purpose, and handed them out, explaining as he went. "I have a lot of ideas, and it would be faster if I just tell you what I think of, and bounce from subject to subject while each of you catch up to whatever info I give you, instead of me just using the speech to text function on my datapad. So if you each pick a subject, we might be able to get this done before Ahsoka brings Ridge and Jesse back."

Through that wordless communication, each Vod settled on a topic to take notes for with an easy efficiency Anakin had long since begun to expect from them.

Rex got saddled with food, as Ridge, who would be the one actually doing the work of securing the supplies for Torrent, was absent and could not take notes himself.

The rations they would be assigned by the GAR wouldn't be enough now. It had been lean times before, but now, if what Anakin thought might be possible actually was possible, it wouldn't be anywhere near survivable, much less enough. After all, the more Sensitive a sentient was, the more calories they burned. And Anakin had every intention of giving as much of his Sensitivity to his men as they would accept. But. That was for later.

For now, they would need to get more of everything, first of all.

Rex dutifully typed up the list of all the dried foods Anakin rattled off the top of his head that were not only dust cheep if bought in bulk, but also tasted decent and actually had all of the advertised nutrients, and where to find them.

Spices were cheap if you knew where to look—and by the suns, did Anakin know, that had been one of the first things he had gone looking for when he was feeling more like a person and less like a tool—and they could only help moral, really.

The sub levels grew more than algae to supply all of the oxygen all the sentients on Coruscant needed to breathe, after all, and he had smuggled the seeds of all the spices and plants he had grown up with down to his supplier years ago. Odds were, they grew other spices for themselves, or even other customers too.

Privately, Anakin fully intended to get his latest order sent to the Resolute as soon a possible. He'd pay the shipping fee for the service, no problem. He was not getting back on that ship without his weight in tzai, alright? If only so he could wash down the rations.

Rex, who might actually be able to read his mind now, narrowed his eyes at him, like he knew Anakin wasn't telling him everything, but doesn't press.

Denal got the datapad for weapons. Both he and Hardcase would be on that particular pickle. Hardcase because that was what he did, and Denal because he was terrifying.

Anakin, rather unfortunately, was much less knowledgeable about how and where, and what can be gotten in terms of weapons on Coruscant, especially in the numbers they would be needing them. He'd have to fix that at some point. He knew a lot more about how to get armor, but, again, not in bulk. Weapons would be easier, if only because there was always someone who wants to kill a lot of people, and someone else who was willing to sell the firepower necessary for that.

Anyway, GAR standard is junk, and anyone who has ever handled another weapon can attest to that. Almost anything after that would be an upgrade.

Anakin ended up just rattling off a few people who would either have some of what they might be looking for, or be able to direct them to someone who did, such as Padmè's handmaidens.

"You'll need to be careful," he warned Denal. Possibly unnecessarily, but it would be better for him to say it and it not be needed, than for it to be needed and him not to say it. "Where you will be going, the people you will be dealing with, they will cheat you out of house and home. Be respectful, but be aware. Test everything, and never pay up front until you have done so. Just because the first nine blasters are what you want doesn't meant the tenth will be too."

Denal nodded seriously, and Hardcase mirrored him. Satisfied, Anakin moved on.

All things medical, of course, went to Kix, who would be assisted by Coric and Jaded. Risk would be staying with the bulk of Torrent, just in case, in Kix's words, some di'kut got a bright idea on their off hours.

Anakin would never say this to Kix's face, because he's seen what the medics had one to their break room and the rather impressive distillery set up they had in one of the otherwise unused rooms on the Resolute and he would never disrespect their efforts that way, but he had seen better equipped Freedom Trail pit stops, which was saying something. The medbay on the Resolute was horrifyingly barren.

Unlike weapons, however, Anakin had spent a great deal of time learning the tricks and tips on how, where, and who from to get medical supplies in the lower levels. The good stuff, too.

If Kix was surprised when Anakin practically regurgitated an information database worth of places and people to contact for gauze, dissolvable stitches, plasters, tape and commercial grade disinfectant, just to name a few things, for very good prices, he didn't show it. He just took note of who Anakin said might be willing to trade either services or even the never ending supply of stims Torrent got like clockwork every supply run whether they asked for them or not, radiating a deep seated sense of grim satisfaction.

Leaving him to make lists of things he needed, things he wanted, and things that would be nice to have, Anakin just gave him a few more places that may or may not also have things that were more difficult to get, like bacta, or IV fluids, depending on the day, and moves to the next topic.

Hardcase, when given the option of credits and entertainment, chose entertainment.

Anakin, having been working on this particular list since week four of the war, just handed over his own personal datapad, already opened to the note. It mostly consisted of the lists of holobooks and vids he had created when he was nine, and ten, and eleven, and the list of textbooks and documentaries he had watched over the years.

Anakin had enough datachips lying around, getting several copies of everything wouldn't be a big deal. It was also definitely going to be one of the easier tasks for them to do. Unleash a few squads of former shinies with a couple clans of Initiates in the Archives with handfuls of the blank chips, and its be done in hours.

Anakin /had/been requesting datapads every chance he got, for the past few months, so while everyone would have to share...there would definitely be options for down time if he had anything at all to say about it.

Judging by how enthusiastically Hardcase was typing, datapad propped up on his raised knees from his place on Anakin's bed, he was more than pleased with Anakin's ideas.

For himself, Anakin took to typing everything thing he could think of to gain credits or favors in the lower levels. He added some of the unspoken rules that governed the places such things were possible, with frequent reminders to listen to the more thorough debriefing they would be receiving from whichever Vod Fox sent to aide them.

If Fox could come through for him.

If he couldn't, well. They'd just have to deal, as they always had. So long as no one got themselves shot, it would turn out fine.

While he was thinking about it, Anakin also listed the names, and brief descriptions, of the people who would make or break their efforts down there.

Should he—? Anakin's fingers hovered over his keypad indecisively. He glanced up, attention flicking from man to man, each engrossed in their own tasks. His eyes catch on the tattoo inked into Kix's buzz.

Yes. He should.

If asked, he typed carefully, and only if asked, you should say Rain had said that place, wherever you might be, was a good place for a game, or a race, or whichever, depending on where you are.

It probably wouldn't offer much by way of protection, but Anakin had spent years building a reputation in the lower levels, and by the will of the Force, was it going to be useful for something now.

It was a start, and that day, that was all they needed. A start.

At some point, Hardcase asked, "What's Jesse going to do?"

Anakin's smile went crooked. "I have the impression that the scouts need all the managing they can stand when they get bored. We don't actually know how long we're going to be here," he reminded him.

Hardcase giggled, beaming. "Good point, sir."

Given Anakin's...medical situation, they didn't know how long they might have before they could be redeployed.

Vod'e, as a whole, had been designed to keep up with Jedi. Which was great on the field, because it meant Anakin didn't have to slow down as much as he would have with drafted sentients, and it was really really cool that they could out last him on jogs. It also meant they started climbing the walls when crammed in the tin cans the GAR called ships.

Granted, the Resolute was meant to be run by about 900 people, and Torrent did not have a ship crew, and so had to run the ship themselves, with their 300 plus manpower. This meant they had to do the jobs of four men minimum, because they also had to do their own trooper duties, like restocking their kits, and cleaning the ship, and cooking all of their meals. Torrent was used to being busy.

With what they were planning, there would be no shortage of tasks to be done—and they would get it done.

This was also Torrent's first shore leave. Down time came with the territory.

"How do you feel about shifts? Half—no, wait—a third doing these tasks, a third sleeping, and a third off shift?" Anakin inquired. Denal squinted at him questioningly. Anakin eyed him right back. "We are on leave, so the men should have down time to, I don't know, go to 79's, or check out the jungle gym the Guard like to patrol around when they have time, or even voluntarily spend time in the Archives."

If this would also cut down on the number of men in the lower levels at the same time, well. That could only be beneficial. The less they were out, the less likely they would be caught, right?

"What about the Resolute?" Denal asked.

Hm. Good point. With no permanent crew, Torrent was still responsible for the care and keeping of the Resolute. Thankfully, being in dock, it took a lot less effort than normal, if only because, with less people on it, they didn’t have to do nearly as much cleaning.

Though, who's to say Torrent had to be the ones to run the ship? Anakin knew a lot of people who not only owed him favors, but also knew people who owed him favors who were spaceport managers.

Admittedly, calling in those favors for a GAR class ship would almost definitely draw a connection from Rain, lurker of the lower levels and expert pod-racer, and Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, but, well. Needs must. He'd just have to trust in his makeup skills and peoples' general inability to connect the dots.

Now. Which set of favors should he call in?

"We docked at Coruscant 6-80, right?" Anakin asked, referring to the port they had docked at.

"Yes, sir," Rex confirmed.

Not the best starting point if they not only want easy access to the ship, but also keep what they were planning discreet. Also not the worst. The chosen babysitting port would need to be GAR sanctioned, but Anakin knew of five such ports with people who owed him, so that wasn't an issue. No, the biggest problem would definitely be finding a reason for moving their ship. How to fix that?

Anakin could call in another favor, hut he'd rather not, as it was only the fourth month of the war, and he'd already used so many favors, not even count all of the ones he was about to call in.

To save fuel, the GAR, reasonably, preferred to avoid moving ships of any build more than absolutely necessary. In fact, short of an engine failure, it wasn't done—

Anakin straightened a hair.

That was an idea. It wouldn't even take a favor. One of the Vod'e could do it.

"How would you feel," Anakin said slowly, pieces slowly fitting together, "about moving her to Coruscant 40-76?"

Confusion rippled through the room, reflected on their faces, and Anakin smiled.

He explained without prompting. "Its a smaller official GAR hanger, meant for ships in need of maintenance. Specifically, ships without assigned Jedi who need quick access to the Temple." He started shuffling through his datapads, trying to remember if he had one with the reports explaining which pre-built ports had been seized for GAR use, which had been built from scratch, and what purposes had been assigned to each. Anakin remembered reading it, but he was also pretty sure he'd been hiding in Fox's office at the time, so it probably wasn't on the table. While sorting, he continued, because he knew this was correct, and these men had long since shown they were more than willing to take him at his word before the bonds, so he would trust them to do the same now, "It's farther from the barracks, too, but not too far either, I don't think. And, uh, I may or may not," he smiled at Kix, who would probably appreciate this the most, given how often Anakin had heard Jesse say it to him and Rex, "know some people who may or may not owe me some favors who happen to work there."

Not that it would be needed, if they did it themselves, and then followed procedure, but—heh. Can't say that kind of stuff out loud where strangers could hear.

The four of them exchange glances and flickers of information in the the Force Anakin could only describe as incredulous, then turn back to him. He smiled beautifully, cackling internally. He could see them asking themselves what they had gotten into now. Only Hardcase looked excited about it.

"The Resolute doesn't need maintenance," Denal did not ask. Anakin felt the question through the brand new, freshly shielded bond anyway.

Anakin raised his eyebrows in faux surprise, fighting off a grin. "No?" He asked innocently. "I could have sworn I heard some of the engineers talking about something making weird sounds in the starboard sub light engines before our last mission. Maybe the report got lost in the rush to get me here?"

Understanding dawned in Rex's eyes a fraction of a second before it did in Kix's, but Denal and Hardcase are quick to follow. Anakin let himself smirk, self-satisfied, and Kix gave in to the urge to rub at his temples, looking as done as a man can get.

"Denal—" Rex stated, turning.

"I'll check with the head engineer when we get back to the barracks tonight," Denal said, already tapping at his comm, likely making a note for himself.

Rex nodded sharply, then turned back to Anakin, perfectly blank faced except for a gleam in his brown eyes Anakin had only seen from him a handful of times. Usually right before he did something Anakin thought only he was impulsive enough to do.

Hardcase, seemingly catching the same gleam, bounced a little in his seat, his Signature' soft bioluminescent glow brightening to a near sparkle.

Anakin smiled at both of them.

He's pretty sure this is what love felt like. Recognizing aspects, and appreciating where they came from.

Reminded, suddenly, that he didn't know Torrent as well as he could, Anakin's smile faded. That would have to change, now that they were doing this.

Well. Its not like he doesn't have other reasons to spend time with them, now. It would be okay, socially, if he asked for help doing all of the research they were going to have to do to get all of this done in a reasonable manner, right?

"Jesse and Ridge are doing alright," Anakin started slowly. How to not make this sound like an order? "If nothing goes wrong with the trial run, I could have the Vod'e who would like to accept the bond tomorrow help me with the research?"

Rex's nose scrunched for just a second before smoothing out, his displeasure speckling like flecks of acid against Anakin's new bond shields. It took everything in him to keep from flinching at the sensation, and even more to keep his spine straight at the older brother's ire.

"Yes, sir," Rex agreed. "I'm thinking Nausea, his fellow card nexu, and either Risk or Jaded for the first squad. I was thinking we'd draw lots from volunteers for the other four men."

Jaded was one of Kix's medics, Nausea was too, but he was probably being selected so they could start on the credit collecting. But, who was Risk? Anakin tilted his head slightly, and asked.

Kix was the one to answer. "CT-7346."

Oh. Anakin smiled. "He picked a name, then?"

Kix hummed in agreement, pleased. "Yes. He'll help Nausea make sure the rest of them don't distract you with research questions when you're supposed to be eating. A second medic might also encourage the sabacc players to keep the cards in their utility belts," he drawled.

Rex countered Kix with barely a pause between them. "A game or two probably wouldn't be the end of the world."

Oh. Oh.

Anakin ducked down to needlessly scroll on his 'pad to hide a smile. Rex didn't want him to use work as an excuse to get to know his bothers. He didn't mind if Anakin got to know them more informally. He might even want that, Anakin marveled.

Showing mercy, Rex directed his lieutenants' attention back to planning. Anakin sent him a blip, carefully weighed and measured to be as close to the strength he'd been feeling the men send between themselves, of appreciation. Rex jerked, but, a few heart racing moments later, sent something that felt like a hesitant acknowledgment-no problem in return.

Three hours and forty-six minutes after they left, Ahsoka escorted Jesse and Ridge back to Anakin's tiny room. They bore lunch for everyone and holos of the Room of a Thousand Fountains and various hallways as the fruits of their efforts.

Anakin forced himself to unravel from his protective cringe away from the flood of stimulation rushing through the door to flick a greeting at Ahsoka before the door closed behind Ridge. Her Signature flared in surprised delight, and the door slid shut.

Kix and Rex stared at him in narrow-eyed concern at his poorly concealed huff of relief at the reprieve, but Anakin ignored it. He distracted them by pointing at the different things on the trays, and explaining what they were.

If Anakin sneakily took note of what food which Vod liked from the various trays, that was his business, and would definitely not be used as a potential surprise down the line. Maybe.

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saltyladynightmare · 2 years

Text

Jiliu AU Part 8.2

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

SO.

This is done.

This is the part where you learn why I’ve called it the Jiliu AU! I have to admit, I’m looking forward to your responses, if you care to give them. This will, hopefully, just be the beginning.

I’ve put a hint of Anakin’s past in here. First person to spot it gets a gold star.

On another note: Rex is a good brother. Or, at least, I’m trying to make him one.

Warnings:

mentioned body non-con modification, hysteria, mentioned panic attacks though no actual panic attacks are had, combat responses which may be a symptom of PTSD though I am by no means an expert, hints of Anakin’s past with all the bad things that come from that, and all of my usual typos and grammar mistakes.

~~~~~~

It took Skywalker fifteen minutes to build his layered mirror shields over his side of the bond.

It was still awful. Like all of the air was getting sucked out of the room slowly, instead of all at once, and he was only just beginning to notice. A leak instead of a breach in the hull. And when his General blinked his eyes open again, signifying he had finished, Rex swallowed.

He...didn't feel dead.

That was good.

Rex's inhale wavered, but he definitely wasn't panicking. That was also good. Carefully breathing out, he assessed his state.

He thought about the faint pressure on his chest, the prickle of hair standing on end on his neck like something bad was on the verge of going down. He considered

He thought about living with this every day for his doubtlessly short life. About his vod'e living with this.

He thought about the consequences of not being able to.

Skywalker wouldn't leave if Rex said no. He was fairly certain. The General hadn't dropped the idea of bonding with Torrent when Rex had malfunctioned earlier, and Rex knew the man was not a good actor. He could lie very well, but acting? Not his forte.

Rex pulled in another breath, then held it, counting off silently.

He didn't think he could do this on a battle field.

The General hummed thoughtfully, drawing Rex's attention to where he sat on the floor. His jetii quirked an eyebrow. "Too heavy?"

Gritting his teeth, Rex forced himself to nod. He couldn't work with this, and he wouldn't make his vod'e do it either.

The General smiled crookedly at him, and Rex found himself relaxing into the shifting warmth coiling around him. "That's fine. I've got plenty of layers to work with." With that, the General closed his eyes, and, presumably, dived back into his mind, or the Force, or whatever he did to build shields.

His eyes aren't Torrent Blue anymore, Rex thought absently. Then he realized that he was right, and his breath caught in his throat. What? Rex replayed every time he had seen the color of Skywalker's eyes, and his finger nails dug into his gloves at what he found.

At some point since Rex had been desperately trying to keep his General from passing out from blood loss on a barren pillar of rock on a planet whose name Rex hadn't bothered to memorize to now, General Skywalker's eyes had bleached from the blue of deep water Rex had picked to represent Torrent—reliability and danger, a reassurance and a warning, all at once—to the glacial ice blue of a Ghost Eyed Vod. Bright and pale and glowing against his near-Vod toned skin.

First skin, now eyes? What was next—his hair?

Denal caught his eye, and tilted his chin in question.

Rex swallowed on the urge to breakdown—what had they done?—and steeled himself. He shook his head minutely, jaw clenched, and Denal crinkled his nose briefly to show what he thought about /that/silent order, but dropped it anyway.

If his vod'e hadn't noticed, than Rex wasn't going to tell them. It would hardly get them killed.

Decided, Rex shoved this new bit of knowledge as far down as he could manage, and turned back to the matter at hand.

After what felt like an hour or so, but was actually only a few minutes, the pressure pushing down on Rex's chest eased. A quick assessment told Rex that this new pressure was bearable. Just as he decided that, the General blinked his eyes—too pale, wrong blue— open again, and looked at Rex expectantly.

Rex nodded sharply. "All clear, General."

Eyes narrowing, the General squints at him for a moment, before he nodded in acknowledgment. "Let me know if that changes," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," Rex said. He didn't bother saluting, as it would be strange sitting down, but also because the General was weird about saluting in general. Besides, the General was on 'medical leave'—or so Rex had been told—for all he wasn't acting like it.

"Alright." Skywalker patted his hands against his folded knees once, bringing all of their attention into sharp focus on him. He grinned. "Who's next?"

Building the shield when more quickly after that. By the time Skywalker had completed Kix's shields, he was only taking maybe five minutes to finish, instead of the half an hour it had for Rex, and he'd only needed to adjust the 'thickness' for Rex, Ridge, and Hardcase, who had gone first.

The General had always been a fast learner, Rex reminded himself, pleased.

Once the General was finally assured that they were functional, and not likely to have a breakdown, he held up a hand. Immediately, something rose up from the table and flew across the room to smack into his palm. He went still for a moment, weighing options, than made a decision, and began pressing tiny buttons with careful fingers. It wasn't until the misshapen chunk of metal and wires rang, that Rex recognized the thing as a comm, likely one the General had put together himself.

He had used his flesh hand, Rex recalled. Was it easier for him to use the Force with that hand? Did he need to use his body at all to use the Force, or was he just...telegraphing for their sakes?

Also, what had happened to his other comm? His personal things had been transferred to the temple with him, comm, cloak, and lightsabers included, so why had he felt the need to build a second comm? He answered the few comms Rex had sent him over the last few days, once he was back on his feet, so he had access to it.

For that matter, where were his sabers? They weren't clipped to his robes. Lost in the organized mess on the table, maybe?

The comm rang twice, before someone answered. Audio only, Rex noted. On purpose, or a limitation with the device?

Skywalker immediately started talking. "Hey, would you mind escorting two of my men around the Temple for a little while?"

A smile pulled demandingly at the corner of Rex's mouth, and it only pulled harder as he fought to keep it off his face. The General was finally claiming them. Yeah, he had technically done that before with the bonds, but this was different. A verbal claiming, made to what Rex could only assume was another Jedi. Rex could almost feel his vod'e's pleasure wafting off of them, and he wasn't the Force Sensitive in the room.

The General, seemingly oblivious, kept talking to the other Jedi. "Maybe, like, give them a tour; show them one of the cafeterias, maybe drop by the Archives, and the Room of a Thousand Fountains if you feel like it. What do you say? Got anything better to do?" He said it coaxingly, teasing, smirking like a mir'sheb. Or an ori'vod, but Rex had gotten the impression that Jedi don't really do vod'e the way the Vod'e did.

"Sure, Skyguy! Which ones are they? 'M I finally going to meeting—ah, what's his name—Kix? Your CMO?" a feminine voice that struck Rex as being strangely young—a Padawan Commander, maybe?—chirped.

The General sputtered. Kix snorted, mouthing a soft what? at Jesse, who shrugged, equally bewildered. Rex was right there with them. Was the General telling stories about them?

"You—just, if they start having issues, like they drop to the ground and start twitching or, uh, or something, you'll have to drag them back here." The General sighed. "Since that is a possibility, sending our only medic would be...unwise."

"I didn't think of that." The girl child—maybe; it's not like Rex was terribly familiar with the different types of sentients out there—said thoughtfully, before perking up. "Okay! I'll be there in ten minutes!"

"I haven't—" Skywalker sighed when the comm chirps, signifying the call had been cut, then finished his sentence anyway, "—told you where we are. Ugh." Rubbing at his forehead, he jammed his comm into a pocket on his thin robes. "She'll figure it out," he mumbled, seemingly to himself. "So, that's done," he turned back to them. "Who's going?" He glanced around before settling on Rex.

Rex reflexively corrected his posture under the weight of his General's regard. He looked over his men, who were watching him attentively. "Jesse and Ridge," he decided. The two nod curtly, then turn back to the General.

Anakin nodded, and directed his attention to the scout and infantryman. "Her name is Ahsoka Tano, she's a thirteen year old Initiate, going on fourteen, learning Jiliu, and her favorite game is hide and seek."

Ridge cocked his head to the side. "Jill-e-you?" he asked, carefully enunciating the unfamiliar word.

The General hums in acknowledgement. "Form eight," he clarified.

"Ah."

That cleared up nothing. The Kaminii only told them about seven lightsaber forms, and even that only in passing as a warning that all Jedi had different fighting styles. As if they couldn’t figure that out on their own.

Seeing—or perhaps feeling?— their lack of understanding, Skywalker tried again.

"The saber form I use...?"

Rex flexed his fingers thoughtfully. That...might answer some of Rex's questions about General Skywalker.

Skywalker used two sabers.

It had been a surprise in that first battle, all of twenty-one hours after they had picked him up from the Temple, when the man ignited two blue blades before he launched himself into the B-1 formations. One blue as a sunny day, and the other almost exactly Torrent Blue. The two lightsabers were the same length—standard for the General's height if Rex understood correctly—and usually held in reverse grip.

Sabers in hand, the General had nearly blurred into a wall of fluctuating blues and dark robes under heavy blaster fire. A barrier between Torrent and the clankers.

When he hadn't planted himself to the ground to defend those behind, General Skywalker had a fondness for living up to his name, flinging himself through the air as easily as he flew with his Jedi starfighter, all grace and power.

He defended with a reverse grip, but did not limit himself to only that. He would often switch his hold on his left hand, or his right depending on the situation, so the opposite hand was still in reverse. He usually only did it if he felt the need more offensive power. If the single time Rex had interrupted the General practicing —katas he had called them— in the middle of their sleep cycle one mission was anything to judge by, he was also comfortable with both glowing blades held in what Rex had assumed, before meeting Skywalker, was a typical grip for bladed weapons.

Rex both relished the prospect of seeing his General on the offensive, and sincerely hoped it never happened.

It was perfect for a Jedi General, in Rex's humble opinion.

"Oh, okay!" Hardcase chirped.

The matter was dropped.

"So, like I said before, there's a lot of different ways to gain credits on Coruscant. One of the more, er, feasible ways for us is sabacc. More specifically, winning sabacc," the General explained. He turned to Kix. "Do you think Nausea would be up for some games?"

Surprise rippled around the room, and more than a few looks were exchanged. The General knew Nausea liked card games? The question was nearly audible.

But, Rex realized, they really should have seen this coming. The General had often proven to be more observant than anyone expected, including the other Jedi Torrent had been assigned to assist on a mission not even a week before. The real question was not what he saw, but what he never said anything about.

Kix recovered quickly. "He's always up for a game," he drawled. Understatement of the year.

"He's made his way through the entire company," Hardcase chimed in. "I'm pretty sure the only one he hasn't played against is you, General."

Skywalker huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, well." His shoulders hitched up in a halting sort of shrug, and his eyes dropped to the table top. "It wouldn't be much of a challenge. I'm horrible at sabacc," he lied.

Rex twitched, and his eyes widened, before narrowing.

Denal raised an eyebrow, eyes sharp in his otherwise carefully neutral face. "Really?"

"Ah, yeah." Skywalker rubbed at the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. "Too much relies on shuffling with cards, and I'm...not the best with things like card counting? Games with dice or bluffing and depend on a player's skills are much easier for me."

That was...closer to the truth.

The General quickly changed the subject. "Nausea for sure, then. Should we send someone with him to help? Or just be there as back up?"

Denal caught Rex's eye, and ticked his eyebrows up a touch. Sore subject?

Rex shrugged. No idea.

It was just one more mystery to add to the pile that made up Anakin Skywalker. Honestly, if Rex wasn't fairly certain he wasn't doing it on purpose, he would think Skywalker was being deliberately confusing. If that didn't clash with how he was almost aggressively honest, Rex would think it was on purpose.

Putting those thoughts to the side, Rex turned back to the task at hand.

They only managed select three other vod'e to go with Nausea, with Kix messaging the other medic to check that they had made good choices, before the General started glancing at the door, distracted.

Denal subtlety checked his blaster, and Hardcase, who had gotten up at some point, sidestepped, so he was between the door and the General. At the General's confused look, he just smiled brightly, and turned back to Kix who was reading out Nausea's latest reply. Ridge and Jesse shift so they have the door in their peripherals.

Rex eyed the General. He didn't look worried, just...tense. Someone was coming, but not the Padawan Commander who had brought him his meals, that much was clear. It wasn't going to be any one physically dangerous, or a security risk, because this was the Jedi Temple, and they doubtlessly have more than a few protocols in place for a breach like that.

He would wait and see, then.

The General had always had very good reflexes, and while he didn't seem to have his lightsabers, there was plenty of things on the table to use as weapons if he used the Force, and Rex knew he would do so if he suspected they were in danger. He had seen him do more with less before. Rex would have more than enough time to respond appropriately, based off Skywalker's actions.

Rex pushed his chair out enough that it wouldn't be a problem to vacate it immediately, but otherwise remained at ease.

It wasn't long before The General finally gave up the pretense of paying attention to the conversation, and turned his full attention to the door, laser focused. Rex's vod'e brace themselves.

Rex counted silently.

One, two, three, fou—

Someone knocked on the door.

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saltyladynightmare · 2 years

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Jiliu AU Masterlist

Jiliu AU

I will update this as I can.

Parts

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 5.4, 5.5

Part 6.1, 6.2, 6.3, 6.4,

Part 7.1, 7.2, 7.3, 7.4, 7.5, 7.6, 7.7, 7.8

Part 8.1, 8.2, 8.3, 8.4

Part 9.1, 9.2, 9.3, 9.4, 9.5

#masterlist #Jiliu AU #star wars #star wars prequels #Clone Wars

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saltyladynightmare · 2 years

Text

Jiliu AU Part 6.1

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

It was brought to my attention that I have not given kudos where kudos is due. Thank you sane from ao3. This is my way of fixing that. I'm drawing inspiration from Fialleril's (i really hope i spelled that correctly) Tatooine Slave Culture. With a twist, because nothing is simple with me. One day I will give myself a break.

The tags will be adjusted accordingly.

Mentioning more OC Clone Troopers, this time members of the Coruscant Guard, who will eventually be introduced. Also one or so Torrent Troopers.

Thank you all for waiting so patiently. Moving countries is no small feat, I assure you. Do you have any ideas how many things it takes to make a bathroom useable? So many. I think I hate shopping.

Warnings:

Unreliable Narrator (or perhaps Not A Mindreader Narrator?), excruciatingly low self esteem, lots of insecurity, and whatever else I've got Anakin dealing with, Jedi Critical, creative liberty taken with building structures on Tatooine, fake medical practices, fake science, creative liberty taken with how the Force works (don't tell me you didn't see that one coming)

~~~~~~

The room was small. Rectangular, cozy almost. Anakin could lay on the floor along one of the shorter sides, press his feet flat to one wall, and reach over head to press his palms to the opposite wall. The long sides were about a third longer than the short sides.

On one of the long walls, was the door that lead to the shielded side hall of the Healing Halls. The wall to the left of the door had the door that lead to an ancient fresher, with a pool big enough, deep enough, to almost swim in and a constant stream of water pouring from the wall into the pool meant for injured aquatic Jedi. The sound of the water, Anakin had been told, was relaxing. Anakin kept that door firmly shut. The wall across from the hall door had a bed built into it, well padded, with nice sheets, a light blanket the color of sea foam and a firm pillow. The last wall had a door that lead to a small meditation room just big enough for three adults to meditate on the provided floor mats comfortably.

All of the walls were painted the same aqua blue, and hummed with the energy of the activated shielding just inside of Anakin's hearing range. The clock hung over the meditation room's door tick-tick-ticked away the seconds. The floors were a beautiful swirl of rosy coral pink quartz, and chilly to the touch. Enough that Anakin really wished he had been allowed shoes, or at least socks. The whole place was lit with soft ambient lighting Anakin had still not been able to find the source for, two days and nineteen separate searches later.

In the middle of the room was a heavy square table with one chair on each side. Between all the stacks of datapads Anakin had managed to weasel out of the cleaning droid over the last few days and the droid parts the temple mouse droids had brought him from his rooms was a leafy potted vine of some sort. After every meal, Anakin moved the plant to the corner between the bed and the meditation room so he had more space to work on his datapads and droids. The next meal, the Padawan Healer dropped off his food tray on a clear space on the table, collected the dishes from the last meal, and moved the plant back to the table, its vines draping over Anakin's things. Anakin was fed every three hours.

Their shields were not nearly strong enough to keep Anakin ignorant of their opinion of the routine. Anakin wanted to know why they were allowed in his rooms with such horrible shields, given how he was only in them because he was having issues blocking things out to the point he collapsed the moment the Resolute had left the singing colors of hyperspace.

He did not ask Healer Che this when she came in to change his IV bags every four hours during the day.

Of everything in the room, the worst was probably the fact that the room didn't have any windows. Normally, this wouldn't bother Anakin, as his childhood home didn't have windows due to the sandstorms it had to endure and most ships didn’t have many windows either. Normally there was more than one way out of a room. Normally the only one with access to his light switches was himself.

The set of switches in control of the ambient light and the more focused sources was on one side of the door to the respective room for easy access. A second set was somewhere out in the rest of the Healing Halls. The second set were the Master Switches, as it turned out. As such, the lights went out at 2200 everyday, and stayed off until 0600 the next morning. During this time, the switches in the room did not work.

Thankfully, Anakin doesn't actually need to be able to see to work on his mouse droids, and his datapads, of course, provided their own light, so this didn't so much slow him down as challenge him.

Anakin wasn't... thrilled with the attempt to enforce a curfew, but he had work arounds. He had to focus on that. He had only been in the room for two days now, and he was already beginning to climb the walls.

Literally.

Because that was a thing he could do now.

Before...whatever happened, happened, Anakin had been more than capable of running up a wall. It was a basic Force Skill, like Force jump, or push and pull. Nothing new, nothing special.

As of fifteen minutes ago, on the second morning since Anakin had woken up in the room, he had discovered if he didn't think too hard about the how of it, he could scale the smooth stone walls by clinging to the surface with his finger tips and toes as easy as anything. Anakin had climbed trees that were more difficult. Even crawling across the ceiling wasn't that big of a deal, ability wise. His stupid temp mech hand started having an issue on the ceiling, needed a touch more concentration, but...Anakin could stick to the ceiling.

Gravity still demanded its due, pulled on his clothing and hair. He felt the mild strain in his fingers and palms, the press of his insides against his spine. If he slipped, he would fall down to the floor. And yet, there he was, crawling across a surface he had no business smudging his fingerprints on.

It was wild.

In the very limited time he had had to experiment since he discovered the new ability—fifteen minutes ago— he had discovered that there was basically no surface that he couldn't stick to, including the underside of the table, the cleverly disguised durasteel plating that made up the wall holding the bed and all of the shield generators for the room, and the mist-slick stone walls in the bathroom. The only limitation was the length of tubing between his arm and the IV stand. Thankfully, he had long since found out how to bypass the need for the IV bag to be above his heart, or it would have been even more limiting, and that would be no fun.

Which was why he was crouching upside down in a corner on the ceiling, datapads floating around him, when some new Presences enter the shielded hallway leading to all of the shielded rooms in the Healing Halls. The hall with the room Anakin had been all but locked in.

Between his own shields and the ones in the walls, ceiling and floor, Anakin couldn't quite sense exactly who they were, but they weren't Force Sensitive, and he knew one of them was Kix the way he could tell when someone was aiming a blaster at his head. He was pretty sure Rex was with Kix too, though that might have just been hope.

By order of his assigned healers, only his Command Staff, his former Master, and the healers themselves were permitted to enter his room to avoid stressing his senses more than they already were. The healers were in and out constantly, changing his IVs, checking the placement of his sensor discs, bringing his meals. Obi-Wan wasn't in system and wasn't due to return for another week and a half. Just as well; Anakin wasn't certain he could really handle getting scolded for not catching all of the grenade shrapnel at this time, however subtly, however kindly intended.

For the last two days, the men had been rotating who came to visit him. Kix had come both mornings to preform his own checks on Anakin, and sent regular text comms through out the day. Rex had also come both days. The other two men who came with them had switched out. They usually couldn't stay longer than lunch, mostly because even Torrent, as independent as the troopers were, couldn't go longer than a few hours without two thirds of the Command Staff present if they wanted to keep order.

For Anakin, the short visits were both a blessing, and very much not. On one hand, it gave Anakin time to start detangling himself emotionally from them. He didn't know when thathad happened, but it was definitely going to give him more than a little trouble in the future. On the other hand, the visits kept the separation from being a clean break. Dragged out, day by day with no definitive end, locked only on the whims of the Council.

If there had been even a sliver of a chance of remaining the Jedi General of the 501st, it would have been bearable. Anakin could have kept his head and his cool if there had been a tiny possibility that he wouldn't be examined and found wanting. There was no chance. No possibility. Anakin was an invalid, even more than loosing an arm had made him in the eyes of the Order.

A Jedi who could not leave a heavily shielded room without passing out.

If Madam Richè could find a way to make this positive, he would make her that berry crumble she liked so much.

Anakin had never been so powerful.

Anakin had never been so useless. Helpless.

Even if he figured out an entirely new shielding technique that did something like cut him off from at least half of his new found Sensitivity that day, it wouldn't be soon enough to be approved to ship out with Torrent. As Anakin was definitely not going to be inventing anything like that, today or in the many many days doomed to follow, there was no way he would be going anywhere, with Torrent, or otherwise.

On the bright side, the men wouldn't be staying much longer if the Council stayed true to form. There was no sense in keeping one of the most effective suicide companies in reserve, after all. Ignoring the fact that this was the first leave Torrent as a Company had together since the War started, four whole months ago, and honestly needed more time to recuperate, the less time Anakin had to cling to them the cleaner the break.

Nothing was ever easy in life. It was harder still in War when one Anakin Skywalker was involved.

With a wave of his fingers, Anakin sent his datapads to stack themselves on the table. His research would keep for now.

The group with Kix paused on the other side of the door. Anakin took the time to pull his IV needles out of his elbow, and, after a moment of consideration, stuck them to the wall with a dab of Force. The group, having apparently finished some sort of conversation, turned their attention to the door. Anakin rearranged his limbs into something much more appropriate for a lunge. The door opened, and someone stepped through.

White and blue armor barely registered before Anakin pounced. It wasn't until he had slammed full bodied into them that he recognized their Presence as Jesse.

Jesse squawked as they went down in a pile of limbs and plastoid.

On instinct, Anakin twisted to the side, just in time for Jesse's elbow to strike where his liver had been. Anakin cackled, then set about wrangling Jesse into a hold that pinned him to Anakin's chest.

A growl rattled out of Jesse's helmet speakers, and wriggled valiantly. Anakin tightened his hold.

"Good morning, Jesse." Anakin grinned.

Jesse froze. Astonishment raked almost gentle fingernails over Anakin's skin. "General?"

Anakin chuckled. "Not on duty, Jesse." Not your General either, soon. "Anakin works just fine. What brings you to my humble abode?"

"I," Kix drawled from the door, "am here to check on you. The rest of them are here to distract you into keeping still while I do that."

"Aww," Anakin cooed, and squeezed Jesse just a bit. It didn't do anything given his armor, but that was hardly the point. "All for me? You shouldn't have." Jesse stutters, bucket speakers dissolving into static. Anakin hid his widening grin behind his helmet. Jesse gave up on words, and groaned, going limp in Anakin's hold.

Deciding he had won this particular ambush, Anakin untangled himself and awkwardly twisted up to his feet in a move he hoped to never recreate on purpose again. His joints and muscles protested all the way up.

The men, for some reason, give off a ripple of some kind of emotion Anakin doesn't identify before it vanished again.

Eh.

He held out a hand to Jesse, who accepted the assistance to his feet.

When Jesse let go, Anakin called his IV pole and needles to him. The needles came fastest, as they had already been in his hold, stuck to the wall as they had been, but the pole followed quickly enough. He stopped the needles dead to hover three inches from his palm. No need to contaminate them. Not that that really mattered for him, but he figured it was smart to foster good habits with things like sanitation.

Kix huffed, and marched forward to snatch the needles out of the air. He muttered mulishly as he swung his medpack off his back.

Jesse squawked again. "Sir! Did you actually pull your IVs out just to tackle me?" The offense in his modulated voice was almost too much for Anakin to handle. Almost. He was able to bite back on the chuckle that bubbled up in his chest.

"Well...no." A lazy swipe through the air at waist hight brought his pole close enough to curl metal fingers around. "I pulled them out to tackle whoever came in first." Anakin shot Jesse a smirk. Jesse sputtered static.

Done being ignored, Kix started herding Anakin to the nearest chair. The other men let off wisps of amusement, and moved to the unoccupied chairs, or, in Jesse's case, the bed. They took off their helmets, and set them on the floor between their feet.

Anakin poked at the space around Kix in the Force playfully. Kix swiped at him clumsy, as he usually did. Anakin let him urge him into the chair easily enough, but kept poking lightly, friendly jabs if you will. He didn't dare poke at Kix's Force Presence as he might have even a ten day ago, but he felt confident enough in his control to do this safely. Kix didn't even blink while he simultaneously swatter Anakin away and inserted fresh needles into Anakin's poor abused elbow.

Finished, Kix gathered up the discarded formerly sterile needle packaging, and used needles while Anakin examined the way the needles were taped to his skin. "Have you been told anything else about your condition, sir?" He asked.

Letting his arm fall to his lap, Anakin sat back and dragged his awful mech hand through his hair. "Not much," he admitted. He kept going even when the Force warped to accept all four men's disappointment. "My midichlorian count is still going up. They took a lot of different scans yesterday, and more blood." He lifted his bandaged fingers to wiggle them. He could probably take them off now, but the crinkled tape was something to pick at. "I'm still sore, and hungry, but it's manageable." He shrugged. "Beyond that, I don't know much of anything."

Kix glowered at Anakin's IVs, and grabbed one of the bags and twisted it to read the label.

Anakin changed the topic quickly. "What have you been doing, now that you're on leave?"

Rex, Jesse and Ridge exchanged a glance radiating discomfort. Kix stuffed the garbage into the outer pocket he had designated for such things on his medpack roughly.

"Well, sir," Rex started, "we aren't doing much. 79's spending time in the barracks, and at the range."

"Some of us have a boat load of datawork," Jesse cut in.

Rex kept going as only a brother ignoring his siblings can, "We've also been overseeing a resupply, but because we had just resupplied when we picked you up, that will be done by 1300 local time." He shrugged. "The usual, I suppose."

Kix radiated a sort of malice that spat sparks at the galaxy at large. It wasn't at him, so Anakin didn't take it personally. It still stung against his shields.

He might be able to get some of his contacts to slip some medical supplies with the rest of the supplies. He'd need to figure out how to get a comm out, but it wasn't like he didn't have the parts for it. Fox would help. He was too ori'vodnot to.

Anakin nodded, both to himself and in acknowledgment of Rex. "If you need some other places to go, there's a few parks that don't have an entry fee to get into. There's one," he recalled, picking up speed, "that has some—" wizard, "—interesting plants. I don't remember its name, but it's north of the temple. There's also a place thats basically a giant playground for adults, full of tubes and bars and ladders that's fun. You probably couldn't go in armor, because I don't know if you would fit into most of the tubes very well, but I haven't heard anything about troopers having a hard time there from the locals. Ah, you will need to confirm that's still the case, but." He shrugged.

They nodded, eyes intent on him.

He flicked through some other places he knew that could interest someonein Torrent. He couldn't show them any places himself—

He drew himself up short.

Right. He was supposed to be creating distance right now. How can he work around that?

"There is a trooper," he said slowly, thoughtfully, an idea beginning to form, "in the Guard who can help you find other things to do. The Guard would have a better idea of where you can go without getting mobbed, for sure."

Guide would also help them learn the different ways to get credits so they could do even more things, like eat food that doesn't taste like the bottom of an old boot or even, maybe, show them the places the Guard had carved out for themselves, if they were so inclined to share.

Yes, Guide would be able to help them. This would not only give them a way to do well for themselves while they were on Coruscant, it also directed them away from Anakin. Which would also keep them from relying on him even a little.

Hopefully.

He couldn't ignore the red hot press of their stress and worry. It seared his shields and burned like a brand between his shoulder blades. He understood it—they had lied to their High Generals. These men who had been raised to be loyal, good soldiers, had lied to the highest authority they knew.

Good soldiers never lie to their superiors.

But they had done exactly that, on his orders.

Anakin didn't know how to tell them the had been bought, burnt out hyperdrive and all, by both the Council and the Chancellor. He didn't have the words to say that they were in the clear, Kix was safe, and so were the rest of them.

He could have stumbled through an attempt. He would have happily tried and only half succeed, but he was trapped in a room where he couldn't even locate the lights, much less recording equipment.

He didn't know how to reassure them without giving away their secret, and so he said nothing at all. They followed his lead, happy to speak of lighter topics.

The men stay until just before Lunch. Anakin wanted to suggest they stay, because he could ask for food from the cafeteria for them—food far more worth eating than the rations he knew they would be eating instead. He wanted to ask, because he wanted to see Rex's expression when he tried pancakes for the first time, Hardcase's face when he had a flatbread pizza. He wanted to offer them food because it would keep them near for just a little bit longer, keeping the walls from closing in.

Instead he just smiled and said his goodbyes.

He was trying to create distance, not erase it.

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saltyladynightmare · 2 years

Text

Jiliu AU Part 7.4

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

as a writer, it is my duty to make words do things. For this particular part, I have utilized sayings that came straight from my nasty little brain. If you have questions, send me an Ask. (:

Warnings, for the entirety of part 7:

Creative liberties taken with the Force (we know why I am writing this), fake medicine, fake medical practices, fake science, wonky time keeping, enviable metabolisms, platonic cuddling between men, several somethings that are supposed to be panic attacks, bad grammar, spelling, and typos galore, hints of how the clones where raised (bad), bullying between children, child birth, abuse between partners, abuse of authority, Anakin Skywalker (excruciatingly low self esteem, unhealthy coping mechanisms, angst)(yes he has therapy, no it does not magically make him a functional human being. that is what a support network is for. also he is 19 and traumatized, give him a break because I won’t), horrible opinions about the use of beds

~~~~~~

It quickly became clear that Rex was not going to find this particular skill any easier than Anakin had, so many years ago. It surprised Anakin, as it hadn't taken him long at all to pick up on how quickly the Vod'e learned things, but, then, Anakin wasn't entirely certain shielding a bond was a natural thing to do, even if it had its benefits.

Eventually, Rex overcame whatever blockade he had built in his own mind however long ago around the idea of shielding his bond, and the shield nearly shimmered into place. His trepidation at building a shield over their bond still leaked through, but the gossamer fine shield, porous and gauzy as it was, definitely existed.

Anakin tapped the bond experimentally. The flimsy shielding flexed, but didn't go down under the light pressure. Pleased, Anakin withdrew. "How are you doing, Rex?"

"I'm fine, sir."

It wasn't a lie. Anakin folded his hands together on top of the table between them. It also didn't ring with an absolute truth the way he had been hoping for, either. He eyed the set of Rex's shoulders, the tilt of his chin, and decided to let it go for now. Rex was a grown man. He could make his own decisions, and shielding was hardly going to hurt him, in any case.

"Alright. I'm going to shield my end now."

Rex nodded sharply, eyes intent. "Understood, sir." He sat back in his chair and settled like bedrock behind his shields. Only the faintest thread of nerves floating through the bond gave him away.

Anakin shuffled through his usual plethora of bond shield layers. He couldn't shield it as heavily as he normally would, he reminded himself. In all honesty, he probably wouldn't even need to, since Rex, while more Sensitive then Anakin had thought he was, was not nearly as Sensitive as Obi-Wan or Aayla, and hadn't displayed even a hint of discomfort at an unshielded bond between them. Barring Anakin's nightmares and Rex's intrusive thoughts, they may not be necessary, if not for privacy, which is mostly what Rex's shield was for. Shields could only improve the situation.

He selected one of his lightest medium shields. Not too heavy, so the bond would could still draw some of his excess power into Rex, but probably still thick enough to keep Anakin's more eroding emotions from overwhelming him. Solid. Anakin dropped the chosen shield over the bond.

Rex lurched forward, and the blood drained from his face. His breastplate slammed into the edge of the table, making Anakin's carefully stacked datapads and droid part piles spill across the tabletop, and the armor on his arms scraped the faux wood as he lunged for Anakin. Anakin caught the things that fell off with the Force on reflex. Rex's shields dropped a split second later. Raw fear blared through the Force. The things slipped from Anakin's hold.

Anakin yanked the bond open again, and reached for Rex with both his mind and hands. "Rex?"

Rex latched onto Anakin's forearms with an iron grip when Anakin brushed his mind against his.

"Breathe, Rex," Anakin pitched his voice into the tone Alpha-17 used when he expected to be obeyed. Anakin had never used that tone before. As Rex's mind slammed down into total stillness, and his breathing abruptly smoothed out, Anakin decided he would never use it again.

Anakin wrapped Rex in a gentle hold with the Force. He squeezed, careful, so careful, and added just a touch of heat, like a weighted electric blanket. He started counting off, the way Thorn had taught him the Vod'e did it, and eased his way around the table with as little disturbance as possible. With the ease he had been finding in the use of the Force since he had woken up in this room, there was very little disturbance. He even managed to keep his arms in Rex's hold without ripping his IVs out.

When Anakin crouched down beside Rex's chair, the ship fell, and Rex crumpled. His forehead knocked into Anakin's non-too-gently. Pain laced through Anakin's skull, pulling a hiss from his mouth. Rex, still hyperventilating, slid his hands up Anakin's arms to clutch at his shoulders, and squeezed. This time Anakin managed to keep the wince from protesting sore muscles and achy joints from expressing itself.

When Rex slid out of his chair to his knees in front of Anakin, it was easy as anything to simply transfer his own hands to one of Rex's wrists, and cup the back of Rex's neck. Physical contact is supposed to help in this sort of situation right? Anakin pulled the Force a smidge tighter around his Captain, just to be thorough.

Anakin didn't know how long he and Rex stayed there, Rex kneeling, and Anakin crouched down, foreheads pressed together, but slowly, slowly, Rex calmed down.

Anakin didn't let up on the pressure he was applying to the back of Rex's neck even as he felt Rex settling to a more natural kind of stillness on the other side of the bond. He didn't so much as change his breathing pattern from the Vod'e count until Rex's eyes cleared and met Anakin's.

"Back with me Rex?" Anakin asked quietly. No pity. Never pity. Just acceptance and calm.

Rex swallowed drily, and Anakin made a note to get him a glass of water when he was stable enough to handle not having physical contact. "Yes, sir," Rex rasped.

"Can you tell me what went wrong?"

Rex looked...vulnerable. Shoulders slumped, big brown eyes wide and almost damp. "It felt like you'd died."

Ah.

That would do it.

Anakin was not the only person Rex had made a bond with. Of course not. If he could make one on his own with Anakin, he definitely had more with his brothers. Brothers who die—often. And if Rex had never shielded his bonds before...

Blast it. Today was just a day for mistakes, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry." Anakin stroked his flesh hand over Rex's golden fuzz. He pressed his head further into Anakin's hand, eyes drooping to half-mast. "I didn't know. I think I may have used a shield too dense for the...thickness, or," Anakin scrunched his nose, groping for the right word, "sensitivity of our bond. I thought I had picked one that was light enough, but I was wrong. I'm used to needing to help my bonded partners shield against me," he explained.

Anakin barely managed to catch the 'as they are more sensitive than you,' that wanted to follow in his teeth. That is not the sort of thing that should be spoken out loud; especially in a place that isn't safe.

"That's—that's what that was?" Rex rasped. Anakin really needed to get him that water.

Anakin hummed soothingly. "Yes. We're going to need to figure something else out for shielding, or I could try again with one of my thinner shields, but for now I think we just need to breathe. Let that shock fade. Then we can go from there."

"I can do that, General."

"I know you can Rex. We'll think of something," Anakin assured him. He had no idea what that something might be, but they would think of it.

He never would have guessed Rex was Sensitive enough to form a bond on his own. Admittedly, the bond as it had been hadn't been much of anything. He would have been surprised if it did more than let Rex know more than Anakin's state of aliveness, any maybe the general direction he might be in. To be able to hold several bonds at once?

Clearly, Anakin really needed to re-evaluate what he thought Sensitives who didn't make the Jedi midichlorian count cut off were capable of. He thought he'd been doing okay with Kix, but he obviously still had some work to do yet.

Something else occurred to Anakin. If this is what Rex could do unaided, what could Kix do? Also, since he hadn't sensed Rex, how many more of his men were like him?

Well.

Anakin ran his hand over Rex's hair again absently, breathing steady to let Rex shakily copy him.

He was going to need to search his mind for more bonds, wasn't he.

There were worse things.

Anakin could also admit to himself in the very back of his mind where he kept his more raw tender parts secret, that he almost hoped he found more. Bonds could only ever be made by at least one person reaching out, consciously or otherwise. If he found more it meant his men trusted him, at least a little.

It meant they wanted him.

He felt Rex slowly, slowly loosen his hold on their bond as his breathing smoothed out. For his part, Anakin just let himself settle back fully on his heels, barely noticing how the ligaments in his hips protested the treatment.

It was going to take a lot less energy to maintain his bonds than the Council probably hoped for, if more of his men turned out to be like Rex. Like Kix.

Well, joke was on them—energy saved was energy that could be used elsewhere. All it really meant was that Anakin would have some wiggle room for some of the more...interesting tricks the holocrons had told him about, possibly more. He'd also, he recalled, read some pretty cool stuff in the Archives he could look into again—after all, if he was going to be breaking one of the main Jedi tenets, he may as well go all out.

Water for wandering.

Research. He needed to research.

Later.

For now, he had Rex to take care of, and—

Someone crossed through the second shield into the hall leading to his tiny room, their Signature bright and intent on—a quick swipe of the Force around them gave Anakin a very strong impression of his next nutrishake meal rolling in sealed bottles across the tray in the person's hold— his room.

The Padawan Healer. Their ire charged the air, and Anakin retreated before they noticed his prodding. He'd met Separatists more pleasant than that teenager.

He'll do his research later.

First, Rex, then food. When that’s done, and Rex felt better, he'd ask the mouse droids to bring him some datapads from the Archives.

#anakin skywalker #captain rex #ct 7567 #501st legion #jiliu au #star wars prequels #star wars #force bond #force shenanigans #panic attack #more bonding to come #i made up #desert sayings #force sensitive clones #force sensitive rex #alpha-17 (mentioned)

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saltyladynightmare · 3 years

Text

Jiliu AU Part 2

Beginning, Next, Masterlist

A/N

Warnings:

Blood, blood transfusions, allergic reactions, fake medical practice (I did my research, but google hates me. Also, I need science to Not Work for plot, so...), competent medic who is Not Panicking, bad personal care, implied nudity (?), the clones’ situation, mention of decommissioning (How would a normal person phrase that?), Kaminoans (who really are their own warning), ruthless misuse of the em-dash

The usual host of bad spelling and grammar errors.

Don’t do any of this at home folks. Kix is a professional. I very much am not.

I can finally close the blood loss tab on my browser. It will be another chapter before I can get rid of the Transfusion tab, though...

~~~~

The medbay was quiet. The loudest noises were the Vod’e who wheezed with every breath, or when someone twisted in their bed. The lights were dim to allow the patients to sleep while letting the medics on shift move around freely. Everything was calm, and clean, and not even close to mirroring Kix’s mental state.

He stared sightlessly at the durasteel floor between his blood and dirt smeared boots, elbows to knees, head in hands. If he had enough hair to grab he’d probably be pulling on it. As it was, he settled for digging the pads of his fingers into his scalp. Something hot and heavy was draped over his hunched shoulders, prickly against his neck and the gaps in his armor. Somehow, that weight made it both easier and harder to breathe.

Kix wondered if this was what resignation felt like.

It wasn’t defeat. Kix was well and truly familiar with what defeat felt like. He was a clone medic in a suicide company made of expendable clones, in an army of other clones owned by a Republic that didn’t care if they lived or died, only if they completed their missions. Defeat was a weight Kix kicked off with his blanket every morning before he rolled out of his berth.

This was...heavier. Draining.

He kept replaying the last seven hours in his head, trying to see where he went wrong, could’ve made a different choice.

It had been Kix, his unconscious General, his Captain, and two injured shinies on top of a sheer sided Pilar of Rock with no foreseeable back up. His General was bleeding out right in front of him, because of course the self sacrificing di’kut had run on a leg with a cut artery then proceeded to tear it further open when he landed wrong after an impossibly high jump carrying two entire troopers all by himself.

Kix had needed to preform field surgery to close up the artery with his depleted supplies. There was no way around it, the injury was too severe to simply slap a bacta patch on even if Kix had had a patch big enough to work. Even if he wasn’t half certain bacta didn’t work half as well for General Skywalker as it should.

By the time he had stitched the site shut, the General had lost too much blood. He was laying in a puddle of the stuff, not to mention however much was caked in his clothes and what he’d left behind when they were running.

His skin was as pale as anything Kix had ever seen, though perhaps that shouldn’t have been so surprising since the General did have a lighter skin tone then any of Kix’s vod’e. A quick check marked the General’s heart rate as weak, and way too fast. Slower then it had before he had passed out, but still not good. His skin was clammy.

Kix’s skin was clammy too, but that was fear-sweat, not blood loss. Why hadn’t he noticed that the General was injured? He was going to die—the thought was crushed before it can do more then trace claws of fear down his spine.

He needed an IV. Kix’s medpack didn’t have an IV bag of anything, much less ringer solution.

“Kix.” The Captain’s voice sliced through the buzz of Kix’s thoughts.

Kix’s eyes snapped up and collided with determined brown eyes. His update comes tumbling out of his mouth by route. “I’ve repaired the cut artery, treated the blaster burn with bacta, along with the scratches on his side. He’s lost too much blood, and is going into hypovolemic shock. He needs fluids.” Kix snatched up his scanner from where he’d dropped it to treat the General’s leg, and tapped the screen sharply with a semi-clean knuckle. “I don’t have any to give him.” The device beeped, and the screen showed it was till set to the default natborn setting. Kix ran the wand over the General’s body again, hoping against all sense of logic that this time, this time the thing would find some injury, internal bleeding, stab wound, something for him to treat.

Kix made himself stop. Breathe. Reassess.

General Skywalker had three injuries that the scanner and Ki’s hands had been able to find. All of them have been treated to the best of his ability. The General was dangerously low on blood. He needed fluids. Kix did not have fluids.

Where can Kix get fluids?

“Check in with me, vod.” The Captain ordered.

Kix’s eyes darted back to his eyes. Something clicked together deep down in Kix’s mind. A very very tiny part of his mind noted that something broke to make that possible. This was easily swept aside in favor of the crash of realization rattling through his body.

He shied away from the idea.

He didn’t know enough about blood transfusions. This could go horribly wrong. He only knew this was a thing because of one class, from the single mention made by the sole Mandalorian medic trainer he had, and the resulting eight minutes of research Kix done after.

Even as he thought this, his traitor brain pulled up everything he’d found in those measly eight minutes. Variables, risks, everything blared out at him in warning—there was a reason why blood transfusions are considered a primitive practice.

There was testing. Kix didn’t have any sort of lab with him; he didn’t even have a ph tester kit.

The General’s red blood cell markers match the Vod’e’s.

But the consequences of a bad blood transfusion—

Kix cut his thoughts off there. That way lead panic, and death.

But Rex is right there.

“I will do what I must to save who I can.”

Kix forced the words through his teeth, because he had a vow to keep, and he would follow through. “The General needs fluids.” Or he will die, he didn’t say. “The only fluids we have to give him—” just say it“—is our own.”

Rex had blood. He could spare some for their general, if he was so inclined. If he wasn’t, or if he was, and the General needed more, Kix could spare some.

Kix dismissed the possibility of ‘68 and ‘57 giving blood, because ‘68 was at risk of an infection with how his knee had been skinned then buried in mud, and ‘57 with how his forearm had been filleted with a dirty vibroblade wasn’t any better. Who knew what kind of contaminants they were carrying? Certainly not Kix.

He pushed that from his mind, and reached back into his pack to remove the coil of clear tubing meant for— not this. He will do what he must. Next came the needles. Rex watched silently.

Kix arranged the tube in his lap, and hammered the words that needed to be said together ruthlessly.

“Do you want to go first, or shall I?”

Rex was very still for a very long moment. Then he sighed, and started removing his left vambrace. “I’ll go. If he goes critical, it’d better if you have a clear head.”

Kix nodded sharply, and got to work. He cut the sleeve on the General’s left arm, then cut Rex’s blacks away. A quick bacta wipe, then the first needle went into the crook of Rex’s elbow. Kix moved the tubes until there aren’t any bubbles he can see, and cleaned the crease of General Skywalker’s elbow. He slid the needle in and taped it down.

Just until pick up came.

Within six minutes of Rex’s blood reaching the General’s, hives had formed around all three of his injuries. The three injuries Kix had treated with bacta. Bacta, Kix was eighty-four percent certain the General had a biological resistance to. The hives even showed where traces of the bacterial gel had clung to his gloved fingertips before being smeared onto the skin surrounding the injury he was treating.

General Skywalker is allergic to bacta. This fact was not in his medical file. It is not mentioned anywhere in the rather extensive list of injuries he had raked up over the last decade, or in any of the many, many doctor’s (Healers, Jedi called them healers) notes.

Kix wasn’t entirely certain why he expected anything else.

He makes short work of removing the allergen with a fresh wad of gauze and reached back into his nearly empty medpack. Thankfully, Kix had had the foresight to pack four hypo cartridges of antihistamine when he was putting his medpack together for this mission since the debriefing package on the local plant life included a fern he could name no less then eighteen Vod’e to be allergic to off the top of his head. Kix had, miraculously, not had the need to use any of them since his boots hit the ground. Partly because he had only been in range of a a squad of shinies, Rex, and the General, and possibly because the filters in their buckets had decided to do their job this mission. Which was good, because he would end up needing all four cartridges to keep his General from asphyxiating before pick up.

Kix gave the General the first dose of medication with a hypo to the neck, then checked his heart rate again. Slower then before, likely because the General had actually allowed himself to sleep when Kix had told him to, but still weak. His breathing was still shallow, if more regular.

There was... nothing else Kix could do.

He shared a look with Rex, before settling down at his general’s side. They had time.

Pick up had been a long time coming. Kix gave the General another hypo when the hives started spreading again. Rex had given enough blood that he had started to show symptoms of blood loss, so Kix was forced to transfer the needle to his own arm. He gave General Skywalker another dose of antihistamine.

Time passed, marked only by the changing clock on his HUD, the beat of his own heart in his ears, and when ‘57 went to drag ‘68 closer. The shinies settled on the other side of Rex, who was actually following orders and laying down to allow his blood loss weak body time to rest.

It wasn’t long before Kix started to feel the blood loss himself.

It took ‘57 jumping to his feet, waving his one uninjured arm wildly for Kix to notice that the gunship converging on their position. Rex, he notes with concern, had only sat up instead of getting to his feet. Too much blood. Kix added fluids for him to his ever growing list of things to do.

The gunship landed, the disruption from the stabilizers kicking up clumps of grass and long dead leaves from the sole tree clinging to the top of their Pillar. The door slides open and four Vod’e jump out. One of them, Kix saw, was bright enough to bring out a medpack and a stretcher. The red medic symbol on his spaulder said why.

Kix was on his feet before he could think. A tiny part of him took a sliver of energy to be very glad that the tube connecting his circulatory system to the General’s was long enough for him to do that without ripping anything out. The rest of him just called up the list he’d been making since the mission began, and started rattling off demands.

“You with the medpack, help me get the General on that stretcher. You,” he pointed at the Vod in the lead—who is thankfully not a shiny, small mercies— with his free arm, “help the Captain to the ship, then get a bag of ringer solution ready for him.” Kix pointed at ‘68, who ‘57 was helping to his feet. “He needs to stay off his leg. I need a bag of ringer solution for the General, asap.”

“Sir!” All four of them break to do as they were told.

The medic trotted up, and dropped to his knees. He situated the stretcher in front of him and started prepping the General for transfer. Kix paused for a moment, watching, to just take a moment to gather himself. Then he applied himself to getting the General packed up for pick up.

They are airborne within three minutes.

The moment General Skywalker was settled on the medical rack, Kix set about replacing the tube connecting their arms together with an IV of ringer solution. To the medic he said “Run a scan on him. He’s bleeding from somewhere and my scanner couldn’t find where it is.” He smacked a plaster onto his own elbow, and clamped his forearm to his bicep in hopes of staunching the blood flow.

The moment he had one of his hands free he turned to looking over the other three Vod’e he’s had with him. He checks the needle one of the others had stuck into Rex’s arm, the fluids he was attached to to check it was actually ringer solution. Rex endured his check over stoically.

Satisfied, Kix moved on to the shinies. He only paused long enough to check that the plaster had adhered to his needle puncture, before checking them over. ‘68’s knee was showing early signs of infection, so Kix gave him a hypo of antibacterial to hold him off, and handed him off to the Vod who had carried him onto the gunship. Kix rattled off instructions on how to change the bandages and which antibacterial gel to apply while he did a quick check on his work with ‘57’s hastily relocated elbow.

Kix was back at his general’s side just as the Vod’s scanner beeped.

The other medic didn’t even look up from his scanner as he read off the findings. “A blaster burn, cut and sutured artery that is no longer bleeding, some shallow cuts on his right flank. All of them had been treated with bacta, and all of them are showing signs of a bad allergic reaction. He has some minor bruising as well, and he may have strained his right elbow at some point. He’s running a fever of a hundred and one degrees, and has all of the symptoms of heavy blood loss, sir.” He tapped at the scanner’s screen, and continued. “The fluids will solve the blood loss, but he needs more antihistamines, and we need to bring his temperature down.”

Kix scowled. “Yes, except I’ve spent the last hour and fifteen minutes pouring over a liter of blood into him, and he still needs more blood.” That managed to drag the medic’s visor up to Kix’s. Kix made sure the Vod didn’t look away. “Something is wrong, trooper. Eventually fluids will be all the General has left if we don’t find out where it’s all going.”

The Vod stared at Kix, dumbfounded. His bucket jerked back and forth between him and the comatose General laid out between them. The next second the Vod yanked his vibroknife from his hip, and started cutting off all of the general’s clothing. Kix pulled out his own knife and set about helping.

They find nothing Kix wasn’t already aware of.

Even before they had arrived to the hanger of the Resolute, he and the still unnamed medic had restarted General Skywalker’s heart twice. Immediately after, on both occasions, he had dropped into shock. They managed to stabilize him each time, but only just.

The tingle of passing through the hanger shields washed over Kix as the pilot maneuvered the gunship to a landing. He ignored this in favor of checking his patient’s vitals again.

The General had been doing okay before, so why—

Kix glared at the man’s sleep slack face. Then his eyes slid to one of the Vod’e who had picked them up.

No. This won’t work.

Does Kix want to risk the General on something as mundane as logic? Something asked.

Kix ground his teeth together, eyes narrowing. It was probably a good thing he still had his bucket on; his vod’e didn’t need to see him like this. He looked back at his General. His eyes lingered on the sweat streaking through the dust that had gathered on his skin from their dash through the catacombs, planting the bombs that would hopefully— and had— end the battle. Stop the death, of only for today.

Kix made his call.

Kix gestured for the trooper who had helped the shinies onto the ship to get closer. “Come here, vod. What’s your CT number?” His other hand reached for a new IV line.

~~~~~

Kix had been replaying everything again and again in his head. One of the benefits of an eidetic memory. The replays would follow him to his dreams now, but he couldn’t do anything else. There was no one else to treat, and even if there were, every time Kix tried to focus his eyes back on the real world, he was seeing double. For that same reason, he also couldn’t do the small mountain of datawork that was doubtlessly piling at his desk.

Kix needed to sleep, eat, to take care of himself, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to push against the hot, prickly weight draped over his shoulders. Every time he tried to do more then think about it, it almost got heavier, near dragging him back to his hard, uncomfortable chair. Kix didn’t need much encouragement to stay put.

He was going to have to explain, in words, why he chose to give his General a blood transfusion. Why he kept giving him blood, even after he had access to all of the ringer solution one human man could hold in his body. The blood was obviously harming him, what with the one hundred and three point eight degree fever, and his resulting delirium. IV solutions don’t do that to patients. IV solutions are as neutral as anything possibly can be in the medical field.

They hadn’t been working.

So Kix went back to the thing that had been ‘sort of’ working. The blood that had been half killing him, half sustaining him, instead of the fluids that were letting him die.

Rex had given too much blood. If Kix’s calculations, done after they had gotten back on the Resolute, were correct, Rex had let Kix drain almost a liter of his blood into their dying General. It was too much. Kix himself had given about half a liter. That had been pushing it, and he wasn’t too sure how much of his current exhaustion was from the missing blood.

While the General hadn’t shown signs of improvement from all that blood, he had gotten worse when Kix had switched him over to the fluids. Almost as if he was still loosing blood, for all that the only other injuries they had been able to find was a slightly twisted knee that really only needed rest and an ice pack.

In the end, General Skywalker was given just over nine point three liters of blood from no less then nineteen Vod’e before he stabilized. Besides Rex, all gave a little under half a liter.

He had a high grade fever of one hundred and three point eight, delirium, excessive sweating, shallow breathing, and pale, clammy skin. High iron content in the blood to the point of being almost dangerous, an extremely high white blood cell count though they had no way to know if they were his cells or one of his donors’, more then a few inflamed organs, and hives. Hives anywhere bacta touched him, including the spot some bright soul had decided to test Kix’s ‘theory’. On top of it all, he was officially unconscious. The only reason none of them gave him painkillers to ease his rest is due to the promise he had extracted from Kix on his first pre-battle examination. The only reason.

By the time the small team of medics working on him had gotten him stable, Kix was numb to everything except the yawning void of fear pulling on his bones. A silence settled on them as they stood around their patient’s bed, staring.

Coric was the one to shatter it. “Well.” He peeled off the sanitary glove, and balled them up in a fist. Kix felt him turn to look at him. “There isn’t anything else we can do for him. The rest is up to him.”

Kix washed his hands on habit, then found himself sinking into a waiting chair at General Skywalker’s bedside. He’d had to feel around for the soap dispenser, and he wasn’t entirely certain how he’d found the chair after, but...it was nice, to be off his feet.

It had been...a few hours since then.

Kix had been reduced to trying to think of how he could have done more, done better. Absolutely nothing comes to mind. Considering the options he had at the time, a tiny corner of Kix’s mind was actually kind of amazed the General had survived to this point. All that meant, however, was that he would die a long, slow death from bad blood, instead of a relatively painless one from blood loss.

Kix couldn’t do more for him. It was up to Anakin Skywalker and his rather impressive will power to decide if he could overcome this. If he didn’t—well.

The 501st would be without a General once more, and Kix would be decommissioned for his failure. The Kiminoans would make sure of that. On the bright side, Kix wouldn’t have to worry about much of anything anymore, so there’s that. Another nice thing is that lethal injection is a very quick way to die. On the other hand, it meant he would be leaving his di’kut vod’e behind to look after themselves, and the most experienced medic after himself is Coric, who is only a first aid specialist.

Kix rubbed his face tiredly. The weight curled more around his shoulders, like a really half-hearted prickly hug.

The only thing Kix could do right then was wait, hope, and—maybe—pray in hopes that something greater then one exhausted medic would save his general when he cannot.

The door of the medbay opened, then closed. Quiet steps, with a deliberate toe smack with each impact, moved toward Kix’s position.

Kix could recognize those steps in any state of mind.

Jesse’s boots scuffed the durasteel flooring right in Kix’s line of sight. Kix noted with a mildly concerning level of apathy that his boots are much cleaner than Kix’s. Freshly cleaned, if his unreliable vision can be trusted on even this small thing. Kix was going to need to clean his own armor soon.

“Kix?”

Kix focused back on the world around him, unclear on when he’d zoned out. He found Jesse crouched in front of him. If Kix knew anything in that moment it was that Jesse had a worried expression on his face, even if his bucket hid it from view. Gloves hands hovered near Jesse’s chest plate, palms toward Kix like they wanted to grab hold of him.

Kix blinked at him. He should move, acknowledge that he had heard Jesse at the very least, but it didn’t seem like the message was leaving his skull much less reaching his muscles.

Jesse moved closer, but still made no move to actually touch him. Kix dropped his eyes to those hands, and waited.

“What do you need, Kix?”

Kix counted each breath in and out of his lungs. He held that question in his mind, and waited for an answer. He did not know what he needed but something in him probably did. It came.

He needed the war to end, brothers to stop dying. He needed a life long vacation someplace safe and comfortable. He needed his datawork to be done, preferably by someone else. He needed food, a shower, and a really long nap. He needed the General to be okay.

Jesse couldn’t help with most of that.

So Kix rolled his jaw until he felt it reconnect to his brain, and said what Jesse could help him with.

“Shower.” It was almost slurred beyond recognition, but it left his mouth, and that was as good as it was going to be right now. Kix let it pass. “Food.” That was clearer. He hesitated on the next bit, because he knows what he will find in his dreams, and it wasn’t going to be him saving General Skywalker’s life. Kix also knew that he would have to face the firing squad eventually. The question was whether or not he wanted to do it on his own terms with company, or when he inevitably collapsed.

Let it never be said Kix was a coward.

He sighed, and let his eyes slide closed. “Sleep.”

Jesse shuffled forward until his poleyns knocked into Kix’s greaves. “Will you accept my help with those things?” He asked softly.

Kix knew he wasn’t going to be talking for a while, so he did the easier thing and tilted his body to the side until he could free a hand to hold out in reply instead. Jesse gripped his bare hand in his own gloved one, and dragged Kix’s arm over his armored shoulders. This threw off the careful balance Kix had been keeping to avoid crashing to the floor, but Jesse was prepared for that. He shouldered Kix’s slightly bulkier mass, and hulled him up to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist. Jesse’s spaulder dug unpleasantly into Kix’s armpit, but it was keeping him from face planting, and Kix moved the discomfort so far down his priority list it fell off the end. He let himself sag against his side. Jesse swayed to absorb his weight.

He felt Jesse’s helmet move. “Where’s your bucket?”

Kix waited for the memory of where he’d put it come to him. It did not. He conveyed this to Jesse.

Jesse just squeezed his side. “Well, you can get it in the morning, or I can. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Jesse took a step and waited patiently for Kix to remember that he was supposed to move with him before taking the next. Sometime between one step and the hallway, the hot, prickly weight around Kix’s shoulder pulled away with a squeeze.

In what felt like half a lifetime and what was probably much less then that, Jesse half directed, half carried Kix’s dead weight through the medbay doors, away from his duties, and their dying General whom he could do nothing more for.

#anakin skywalker #ct-6116 #medic kix #ct-7567 #captain rex #original clone troopers #ct-5597 #jesse #coric #blood loss #blood transfusion #fake medicine #clone wars #501st legion #jiliu au #Half-Force Anakin Skywalker

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