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It was supposed to be an easy mission. Simple. Straightforward. Ahsoka and Rex and a team of troopers doing some reconnaissance on a suspected Separatist genetics lab. Get close, see if there’s anything to the intel, then get out.
It’s always the easy missions.
She’s not sure how it went wrong, only that there were suddenly hands on her arms, yanking her back from her men. Something pressed hard into her upper arm that made the Force feel distant and muted. Familiar voices shouting. Blasters firing. Screams.
Silence.
Ahsoka is dragged onto an unfamiliar ship, down a hall and into a dim room, where she is shoved to the floor hard enough that her knees sting. Immediately, she tries to get her feet under her, and manages to stagger upright only for one of the men who attacked her team - a massive, bulky figure standing about seven feet tall, with dark grey skin and black hair - to grab her shoulder and shove her back down.
Her knees are definitely going to bruise.
The man looms over her and, even in the dim light, it gives her a better look at his face. His eyes are so dark, she can’t see where his irises end and his pupils begin, and the sharp angle of his brows and their echoing chevron ridges that lead up into his hairline give him the impression of a perpetual scowl. A quick look around the room confirms that the rest of them look similar.
Ahsoka recognizes the upswept brows and accompanying ridges. Kessians. Natives of the small, but wealthy, planet of Tanuga. They’re neutral in the war, but she remembers hearing something about certain individuals using the fighting for financial gain.
She starts to get her feet under her again, and the Kessian leans closer, one meaty hand stretching out toward her throat. On instinct, she reaches for the Force, but it doesn’t respond. The hand closes around her neck, just tight enough to be uncomfortable, and Ahsoka tries not to squirm as the Kessian practically growls at her.
“That’s enough,” says a deep, rich voice from the darkness. Instantly, the Kessian looming over her backs off, retreating to one of the room’s dark corners.
The voice continues, “I apologize for my man’s behavior. He’s new to this line of work.” The Kessian in the shadows moves forward, revealing a tall, muscular frame and a handsome face. The golden light glints off his oiled black hair and the gold embroidery on the collar of his shirt. He gives a hand motion to the men on either side of her, and they release her arms. He eyes her with clear interest. “You are a Jedi, are you not?”
Ahsoka decides not to answer that, picking herself up as the pair of Kessians flanking her step back. “Who are you?”
The Kessian chuckles, far too warmly for someone effectively holding her hostage. “My name is Jatan Kane. My men and I are in the business of collecting and selling information.”
“You’re mercenaries.”
Jatan smiles, revealing perfect white teeth and sharp canines. “Yes, I suppose we are. And we have reason to believe you might have some knowledge to share.”
Ahsoka glares. “And if I refuse?”
Jatan laughs again. “Oh, don’t worry, my dear. I have no intention of harming you,” he says, voice smooth as silk and colored with a sort of affected sympathy. “I’m of the opinion that a young woman like yourself has no place in such conflict. Such a waste of youth and beauty.”
Ahsoka bares her fangs at him, but he just smiles condescendingly and snaps his fingers. The men on either side of him move forward, meaty hands grasping Ahsoka’s upper arms and hauling her to her feet. She twists in their grasp, but they don’t waver. The one on her right actually seems a little amused at her attempt to dislodge him.
Jatan leads them down a nondescript hall, still talking. “You see, dearest, I need to know that information. It’s worth a lot of money, and I have people to take care of. My men have families to feed.”
“I’m not betraying innocent lives to you so you can afford your luxuries,” Ahsoka snaps.
Jatan tuts at her, seeming unoffended by the accusation. “Lives? My dear young woman, the information I want won’t hurt any people. Hasn’t this dreadful war done enough of that?”
Ahsoka scoffs. “You’re going to try to force information out of me. I won’t give it up willingly. How do you plan to do that without hurting me?”
Jatan turns around to face her. “By the goddess, what do you take me for? I will not torture you, dear girl.” He turns back around and continues leading them down the hall. “Besides, there are other ways I can convince you to tell me what I need to know.”
“How?” Ahsoka demands.
“I just need to press the right buttons, dearest,” he says over his shoulder, as he stops at one of the many identical doors and presses his fingertips to the control panel. The door swings open and Jatan motions for his men to bring Ahsoka inside.
They haul her into a small, almost empty room. The only things inside are a cot along the left wall and a table to the right. The Kessians holding her arms lead her to the left, pushing her down onto the cot and stepping back quickly. Ahsoka surges to her feet and strides forward, only to be brought to an abrupt stop by a series of ray shields slamming into place, confining her to a small space of about ten feet squared.
Jatan steps up to the other side of the shields and looks down at her apologetically. “I am sorry, my dear. But I really do need that information.”
“You won’t get it,” Ahsoka snarls.
He seems unphased by that comment, but whatever he was going to reply is interrupted by a beep on his communicator. He removes it from his belt and reads something on the screen, then smiles slowly, and Ahsoka is reminded violently that she is not the only predatory species here.
Something in his tone has klaxons screaming in her mind as he says, “Ah, here they are now.” There is the sound of scuffling just outside the door. Then the door swings open and two more Kessians enter, bracing a smaller figure between them.
Oh, Force, no.
Rex.
He’s in just his blacks, and there is a smear of purple bruising along his jaw. He struggles against the Kessians’ hold, digs his feet in and twists , and the one on his left loosens his grip. From beside her, Jatan signals and the two Kessians that had dragged Ahsoka into the cell hurry forward to help maneuver Rex further inside.
Ahsoka jerks forward, stopping just before she touches the ray shields, hands beginning to tremble. At the movement, Rex’s head snaps around and he seems to see her for the first time. His eyes widen and Ahsoka thinks she can see his skin pale as he rasps, “Commander?”
All at once, Ahsoka understands. They have no intention of torturing her for information; they won’t need to. They have all the leverage they need, struggling between four massive Kessians. Ahsoka pulls her gaze away from Rex’s face and looks at the Kessian leader and the lazy smile spreading across his face as he savors her horror.
Still looking her straight in the eye, Jatan addresses his men, “Get it set up.”
The other Kessians drag Rex away, toward the far wall and the low metal table set up at a downward angle over a single drain in the floor. They shove him to his knees with enough force to bruise and then strip him of his shirt, leaving him shivering in the cold air and exposing the network of scars that criss-cross his skin, including a familiar mark on his shoulder from a stray bolt that Ahsoka had deflected on one of their first missions together and a terrible, knotted keloid running from his shoulders to his sternum and then down past his abdomen.
One of the Kessians pokes at the ugly scar and chuckles. “Not its first time on a slab, eh?”
Ahsoka snarls quietly and Jatan throws her a look of mock sympathy, before turning to his men. “Now, now, Tavos. Let’s just get this over with.”
The other Kessian laughs again, reaching down to help haul Rex back upright. Rex struggles, manages to drive his elbow into one’s stomach hard enough that the Kessian releases him and staggers back. The other three wrestle him down onto the table’s metal surface, the one called Tavos driving the heel of his hand into Rex’s throat in a - mostly unsuccessful - attempt to keep him still. It still takes them a minute or so to get the cuffs clamped around his wrists and ankles; at one point, Rex manages to land a kick to one of his captor’s guts that results in another grabbing his ankle and twisting it roughly into the manacle with a sickening crack.
Once all four of his limbs are restrained, Rex stops struggling. His eyes meet hers for a moment, and Ahsoka gives him a tiny nod. In a situation like this, every move Rex makes is deliberate, calculated to give his people the best chance he can. He may have looked to the Kessians like he was panicking, but now two of the most physical threats are moving gingerly. Now if Ahsoka can just figure out how to get the ray shields down...
Jatan strides across the room as soon as Rex stops struggling - Ahsoka thinks, vaguely, that there might be cowardice fueling that choice, but quashes that thought; it’s probably just wistful thinking on her part. The one henchmen who is uninjured and still nameless to her goes to the wall and begins unraveling a coiled hose, bringing the end to Jatan’s waiting hand. Ahsoka’s stomach drops. Jatan finally looks away from her to leer down at Rex.
“You know, dear girl, what I am going to do to your clone?”
Ahsoka can’t speak, can barely breathe, eyes flickering between Rex’s face and the end of the hose, dangling menacingly from Jatan’s fingers. Rex is calm, carefully indifferent. For the barest hint of a second, he glances at her, then refocuses on Jatan, who is still leaning over him and smiling with too many teeth. Rex’s expression doesn’t change, but even without the Force, Ahsoka can tell he’s uneasy.
“Well, dearest?”
Ahsoka tears her gaze away from Rex to find Jatan watching her again, smile still in place. His eyes are cold. She clenches her jaw and gives a single terse nod, knowing that it won’t change anything, but certain that Rex will be punished if she doesn’t at least pretend to cooperate with this man.
“Good,” Jatan croons. “Now. I am going to ask one time, and if you do not answer me...” He nods to one of his men and a cloth is draped over Rex’s face. Rex tenses, hands curling into fists, chest rising and falling in careful, measured breaths. Jatan aims the hose directly at Rex’s covered face and idly thumbs the nozzle so a few drops of water drip onto the cloth.
Ahsoka’s chest is so tight it hurts. She nods her understanding again, and the movement is almost spastic.
“Very good,” Jatan breathes. “We have information that there is a Republic medical station near the Tholian system.” Ahsoka clenches her jaw and stares straight ahead. He did not ask me a question. He did not ask me a question. He did not -
Jatan waits a beat and then continues, “Where is the medical station?”
Ahsoka says nothing, biting her lip so hard she can taste blood. The moment stretches taut; she can see Jatan out of the corner of her eye, watching her with all the intensity of a predator waiting for his prey to show weakness. Ahsoka fixes her eyes on Rex, matches his controlled breaths, and shakes her head. Once, with conviction.
The moment snaps. Jatan’s expression does not change, his posture does not change, the predatory gleam in his eye does not change. He simply flicks his thumb and a gush of water flows from the hose and over Rex’s covered face.
Rex flinches at the initial burst, but otherwise lies motionless under the onslaught. Ahsoka finds herself holding her own breath, counting the seconds and trying not to let their captors see just how affected she is. Logically, she knows that Rex has been trained to withstand torture. That the average human can hold their breath for about two minutes when necessary. That Jatan knows exactly what he’s doing, from how much Rex can take to how important it is not to kill the Kessians’ only leverage against her. But Ahsoka’s mind is fixated on the knowledge that this type of torture is designed, not to cause pain, but to induce fear, and she can’t stop thinking about how Rex had looked at her just moments ago. That glance hadn’t been just to reassure her.
Jatan is still watching her with sharp eyes and the smallest curl to his lip. His gaze flickers from her clenched jaw downward, and Ahsoka knows that he can see the way her nails are digging into her palms from how tight her hands are clenched, that he can read the rigidity of her posture. She can’t quite make herself relax, but she does force herself to start breathing in a controlled pattern that Master Obi-Wan taught her for meditation.
After a minute and 47 seconds, the hose shuts off. One of the Kessians peels the cloth from Rex’s face, and Rex gasps, chest heaving for breath. Ahsoka feels like a puppet with its strings cut, staggering back and collapsing onto the cot. The Force is a distant hum in the back of her mind, nigh unreachable, but she knows without the shadow of a doubt that the relief stretching across the room is not just her own.
Across the room, Rex coughs a few times before settling back into carefully controlled breathing, letting himself sag against the table. He’s shivering; the room was cold before he was bound to a metal slab and drenched in water.
“Well, my dear?”
Ahsoka’s eyes burn. Across the room, Rex turns his head and looks at her through wet lashes. Despite the distance and the angry tears beginning to blur her vision, Ahsoka knows exactly what he’s trying to convey. She takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, lets it out, and pretends it's not trembling. Then she gathers her conviction and turns her attention to Jatan, glaring through tears.
He must have been waiting for her full attention, because as soon as her eyes meet his, the Kessian asks, “Where is the medical station?”
“Fuck you,” Ahsoka spits. The corner of Jatan’s mouth twitches and he heaves a sigh that is far too dramatic to be true disappointment. He nods to his men and the soaked cloth is laid once more over Rex’s face.
“Very well, then.”
-:-:-:-:-:-
The first session lasts for ten rounds, each lasting about a minute and a half. By the end, Rex’s breathing is rough, like he’s straining to pull in enough air, and he’s not so much staring at the ceiling as looking in its general direction without seeing anything.
One of Jatan’s henchmen coils up the hose and puts it away, while another uses a mop to shove the standing water toward the rusty drain. Jatan stands before her, hands folded behind his back, just observing her without comment. He seems to still be amused at her defiance, but there is something in his dark eyes that screams danger, and Ahsoka knows he will not be so patient next time.
As soon as the cleanup is done, the Kessians file out without a word. The door slams shut behind them.
Ahsoka listens to the footsteps in the hallway as they fade to silence. When the only sound she can hear is the hum of the ship’s engine and Rex’s ragged panting, she finally lets herself relax a little and, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, calls across the room, “Rex?”
His voice is soft, like it is after a rough mission and he’s too tired to put his energy into volume, but he responds immediately, “I’m here, kid.”
“Are you…” She lets the question trail off. Asking if he’s okay when he’s just been tortured is basically just giving him permission to lie to her, and they’ve promised to be honest with each other. Ahsoka sighs. “How are you doing?”
Rex is quiet for a long moment, and she can see him shifting carefully against the metal slab he’s bound to. Taking stock, she guesses.
He confirms it a moment later, slipping back into military formality. “Nothing major, sir. Just bruising, for the most part. I think my right ankle might be broken. It’s a little cold in here, but I’ll manage.”
She nods, but presses, “You’re not breathing right.”
He hesitates, turning his gaze to the ceiling, but their shared promise of honesty seems to win out. “I may have inhaled a little water, Commander. Just wasn’t expecting it and breathed at the wrong time.”
Of course he hadn’t been expecting it; he couldn’t have seen it coming. She’s certain that’s part of the reason they had covered his face. Torture is so much more effective if it’s unexpected. Pain is an amateur's tool; fear is wielded by professionals.
Before she can ask anything else, Rex confesses, “My head hurts, too.”
Again, Ahsoka nods. “It’s probably from oxygen deprivation. These guys might be professionals. It’s definitely not the first time they’ve done this. I don’t think they’ll let it get to brain hypoxia, at least not for a while. They’re not cutting off the air supply long enough for that.” It’s easier to discuss this in detached terms. She can almost forget that Rex was just tortured because she wouldn’t talk. She can almost forget that Rex will continue to be tortured because of her silence.
Rex huffs a ragged breath that might be a laugh. “Well, thank the little gods for that.”
They lapse into a fragile silence. Despite his reassurance that he could manage the cold, Rex’s hands are quivering, and every so often, the tremors crawl up his arms. If Ahsoka looks hard enough, she thinks she can see goosebumps peppering his skin.
It’s Rex who speaks first. “You know you can’t tell them anything.”
It’s not an accusation, but Ahsoka suddenly can’t bear to look at him. Her closest friend, laid bare on an unforgiving slab by unforgiving men, who she knows will suffer willingly for her sake. They both know that she could save him.
They both know that she won’t.
Ahsoka nods, even though it wasn’t really a question either. Then, just in case he wasn’t looking at her either, she whispers, “I know.”
The next few minutes of quiet stretch into eternity, and Ahsoka can’t shut out the image of Rex convulsing and then going still under a never-ending stream of water. She feels like she’s drowning in her own thoughts and then quickly shoves that metaphor aside.
“I don’t want to watch them torture you,” she confesses, just to break the silence, to give herself something else to focus on. She’s half-hoping he won’t hear her, but he shifts a little, rolling his head to face her again.
“I know.” It feels like an apology, and she hates it. The anger wells up again in her eyes and she swipes the tears away before they can fall.
Rex continues, eyes fixed on her. Reassuring. “I can handle it, Ahsoka. I have to handle it. My brothers on the medical station… I can take it. To protect them.”
She doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s not like it’s unexpected; Rex has always been far too much like his general - self-sacrificing and loyal to the end. He’d die a thousand times over before betraying his brothers. None of that stops her gut from churning at the understanding that his suffering is in her hands. That whether she saves him or sacrifices him, she’s going to lose him.
Ahsoka pulls her knees to her chest and rests her forehead on them. She can hear Rex’s breathing settle into the same careful cadence he’d been using when their captors had first started torturing him, and then, after a few more minutes, into something deeper and calmer. When she picks her head up, he’s asleep.
She pushes herself to her feet, trying to ignore the way her muscles protest. The cold has settled into her bones, making her movements stiff as she paces the tiny space to which she’s been confined, rubbing her arms and shivering. Part of her balks at settling onto the cot, if only because it was given to her by the same men who hurt her friend and denied him any amount of comfort. But she’s so tired and even the thin blanket looks inviting. So she settles down for whatever rest she can find.
-:-:-:-:-:-
Ahsoka startles awake to the door clanging open. As she jolts upright, her eyes seek out Rex, still bound to the table across the room. He’s awake, staring at some fixed point above him, jaw clenched and breathing too even to not be carefully controlled. Then the Kessians enter the cell and block him from her view.
Jatan comes to stand before her while the others move around in the background. She can see one unwinding the hose and another adjusting the table so the angle is slightly more extreme, tilting Rex’s head down toward the drain.
“Did you sleep well, my dear?”
Ahsoka glares at Jatan, who simply gives her a pleasant smile and then continues, “I’m sure you are curious: you slept for approximately seven hours. After this session, I’ll have Tavos bring you some food and drink.” He seems to assess her for a moment and adds, “Perhaps another blanket, if you cooperate.”
Ahsoka locks her jaw and glares at the wall over his shoulder, focusing all of her energy on keeping herself from shivering in the cold. Jatan hums thoughtfully and turns away, striding across the room to where one of his henchmen is draping the cloth over Rex’s face, and Ahsoka’s hands begin to shake again.
Just like before, Jatan takes the hose, turns to her, and calmly asks, “Where is the medical station?” Just like before, he waits until she shakes her head, chin trembling, before he turns the water on. And just like before, Ahsoka stands and counts the seconds and watches helplessly as her best friend is tortured for information she won’t give.
This round lasts two minutes and 32 seconds. Around the two minute mark, Rex’s stillness begins to dissolve into increasingly violent shaking, and he starts to tug at the bonds around his wrists. When the water finally turns off and the cloth is removed, he gulps in desperate breaths, frantically blinking water out of his eyes and rolling his head to look towards her.
He’s trying to tell her something, but her own fear is curdling in her gut and she doesn’t understand . Jatan doesn’t give her enough time to dwell on it; he asks about the station again and she shakes her head, stubbornly, adamantly, and the cloth is replaced and it begins again.
This time, each round lasts two and a half minutes, and by the end of ten rounds, Rex is shaking out of his skin. He keeps his gaze locked on the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with any of their captors. There’s a line of tension in his neck, and she can see that he’s clenching his jaw tightly enough to crack teeth.
As the other Kessians put the cell back together, Jatan fixes his cold eyes on her, and Ahsoka thinks, without meaning to, of the void between the stars - cold and black and merciless. He’s not amused anymore. Some small part of her that feels like warm sunlight streaming through convor feathers whispers, Be strong, you have people to protect. And an even smaller part that feels like cool, smooth scales sliding along her ribcage says, Is this a sacrifice you’re willing to make?
She shuts out both voices and draws herself up, putting every ounce of her defiance into her stance. Another voice, this one entirely her own: I will not submit to you. I will not betray him like that.
She’s not sure Jatan gets any of that message, but he certainly can read her defiance. His brow ridges draw down over his eyes and his lip twists into the slightest snarl. Without a word, he spins on his heel and follows his men out of the cell. The door slams behind him.
Ahsoka can’t even wait until the footsteps are entirely gone; she collapses to her knees, shaking, and chokes, “Rex?”
He turns his head toward her, but instead of answering, he starts coughing. The sound is jagged, forcing itself from the bottom of his lungs, and the little gasps of air he manages between coughs rattle in his chest. It feels like the fit goes on forever, and when it finally ends, Rex just lays there, like it’s sapped all of his strength. His breath has settled into an unsteady cadence, wheezing slightly as it leaves his lungs.
After a long few moments, he takes a careful breath and rasps, “C’mmander.”
Ahsoka wants to cry, but that won’t help either of them. So she swallows the lump in her throat, pours every bit of authority she can manage into her voice, and says, “We need to talk about what we’re going to do.”
He turns his head to look at her again, and there’s a spark of something warm in his eyes. Affection, maybe. She tries not to think about it.
“Rex, I’m going to need you to be honest with me,” she starts.
“Always am, sir,” he replies, voice grating in his throat.
“Force, Rex, you don’t have to talk, you sound terrible.”
“In the interest of being honest, I feel terrible, sir.”
Ahsoka can’t bite back the half-laugh, half-sob that escapes her. She buries her head in her hands and takes a slow, deep breath, just like Master Obi-Wan taught her to help her calm down. When she looks back up, Rex is watching her, that same little spark in his eyes. He knows exactly what he’s doing - calming her down, allaying her fears, distracting her from the fact that he’s shaking so much it’s a wonder he’s not stuttering.
She manages a watery smile. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
His lips twitch in response. He’s watching her with such unspeakable trust that it takes her breath away, and that helps her steel herself enough to make her request.
“Rex, I need you to promise me something.” She takes another deep breath, and even though the Force is still hovering just out of reach, she imagines letting it flood her with calm and control. “I need you to promise me that, if it gets to be too much, you’ll let me know.”
“Ahsoka…”
“Don’t, Rex.” It comes out harsher than she means it to, but she needs him to understand. “If you can’t take anymore, you have to tell me. I’ll figure something out, I just… I can’t…” She pauses again, breathes, finds that she can’t look at him. “I can buy you some time. Distract them for a bit.”
Rex is quiet for a while. Just when she’s starting to think he isn’t going to respond at all, he whispers, “Okay.”
Ahsoka’s head snaps up so fast, it hurts her neck. He’s still watching her with tired trust in his eyes, and behind that, resignation and shame.
“If I can’t… If I need a break. I’ll tap out.” He taps his fingers against the metal beneath his palm to demonstrate, and Ahsoka feels herself slump with relief. She knows he probably won’t use the out she’s offering him, but at least he’s willing to go along with it, if only to placate her.
She’s about to reply when her montrals pick up the faintest tattoo of sound from outside the cell. Footsteps. Just one person, lead-footed, approaching their cell at a steady pace. “Someone’s coming,” she warns and Rex stiffens and refocuses on the ceiling.
The footsteps get louder, and then pause outside the door. After a moment, the door swings open and one of the larger Kessians enters. Tavos , Ahsoka remembers Jatan had called him. He’s massive, probably upwards of seven feet tall and entirely muscle. He steps up to the ray shields and crouches down to place a tray on the floor, sliding it through the shield to her.
Ahsoka doesn’t move, but she recognizes the smell of nerf meat and her stomach growls in hunger. Tavos must hear it, because his face splits into a toothy grin, twisting an ugly scar that runs down his cheek. He gets to his feet again and turns away, as if to give her some privacy, and makes his way across the room.
Ahsoka forgets all about her hunger; the only feeling in her gut is a knot of cold dread as the Kessian stops beside Rex. Tavos doesn’t say anything, just looks down with a hungry sort of interest that makes Ahsoka want to be sick. Tavos lacks all of Jatan’s carefully crafted control; he’s barely restrained violence, and without anyone around to stop him, he’s the most dangerous thing she’s seen on this ship.
There’s a stretch of silence as Tavos considers Rex, and Ahsoka holds her breath for all of it. Then, without warning, Tavos’s meaty hand lashes out and grasps Rex’s injured ankle and squeezes. Rex gasps, arching against the hold and the restraints. Ahsoka also gasps, surging to her feet, but there’s nothing she can do and she knows it. Judging by his smirk, Tavos knows it too.
Rex is still writhing against the bruising grip, but Tavos doesn’t break eye contact with Ahsoka. She forces herself not to react besides clenching her fists so hard her fingernails cut into her palms. After 28 long seconds, Tavos releases Rex’s ankle. Rex sags in his bonds. His breathing is harsh and a little too fast, and he blinks a few times before fixating once again on the ceiling.
Tavos grins. “Next round’s in six hours,” he says, and leaves without another word.
-:-:-:-:-:-
The next session is another ten rounds, each lasting about three minutes.
The one after that, each round lasts three and a half.
Jatan is increasingly merciless. It’s obvious that he’s infuriated with Ahsoka’s lack of answers, but for some reason his treatment of her doesn’t change. She is still fed regularly, and while the food is bland, it’s fresh and enough to keep her from feeling hungry. Jatan remains courteous enough when he speaks to her, even if it is only to ask for information. None of the other Kessians interact with her aside from Tavos, who leers at her from a distance.
Rex, on the other hand, is getting worse. They haven’t given him any food, and the only water has been that which they’ve poured over his covered face. Jatan has no qualms about letting the others mistreat him, and by the end of the fourth round, his neck is ringed in dark bruises and his ankle is swollen. The manacle restraining it cuts into the tender flesh and it frequently weeps fresh blood when Rex struggles under the deluge.
His breathing is now a constant struggle, painful wheezing interrupted every so often by jarring, wet-sounding coughs, and Ahsoka hasn’t seen him stop shivering since the beginning of the third session. A sheen of sweat covers his exposed skin and, more often than not, his eyes wander around the cell without ever quite focusing.
Ahsoka doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s terrified. She’s seen Rex hurt before - he’s a good soldier, but he learned self-sacrifice from Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi themselves, and he’s never hesitated to put his men before himself. But when she calls out to him and he looks right through her without a hint of recognition, Ahsoka has to face the reality that he could very well die here, in this little cell on a hostile ship wandering somewhere in the endless void of space.
The fifth session leaves Rex hovering on the edge of consciousness, eyes drifting shut and then snapping open again seconds later. His breathing is uneven, and every so often it stops entirely before stuttering back to life. Ahsoka wasn’t able to hold back the hot tears that had silently welled up during the last few rounds of Rex’s torture, but now, a few hours later, her head aches so much that she can’t cry anymore.
“They’re going to kill you, Rex.”
She doesn’t really expect him to respond; honestly, she’s not sure he’s coherent enough to have even heard her. But he rolls his head toward her, eyes wandering for several long seconds before struggling to focus, blearily, on her.
“They are going to kill you,” she repeats, because she’s still not certain he understands. “I have to tell them something -”
“No.”
His eyes are still cloudy, but there’s a hint of familiar stubbornness breaking through the fevered haze. He shakes his head, the movement weak but determined, and mumbles, “Can’t… Y’can’t, ‘Soka…”
“Rex.” She cuts him off, voice harder than she means it to be, but her anger is all she has left. He has to understand. “If I don’t tell them something, you are going to die. You are asking me to watch you die while I have a chance to save you.”
“‘Soka… you can’t.”
She tries her best to use a tone that allows no argument, but her voice is still thick from crying. “I will not stand here and watch them kill you, Rex. I won’t.”
“No.” His gaze is sharp with clarity for the first time in… days? He struggles to speak, both the angle of the table and the illness in his chest fighting him. “I can take it. Don’t… Don’t tell them…” He starts coughing again, and his eyes flutter and roll back in his head.
The coughing fit lasts a long time, and Ahsoka tries to quash her growing fear as he tries, again and again, to catch his breath. The Force is still distant, just out of reach, but she can still sense Rex’s desperation, not just for air, but also for his brothers’ safety. It’s not easy, but Ahsoka pushes deeper into the feeling, and it unfurls into pain and fear and, to her horror, acceptance.
She pulls back, eyes burning with unshed tears. “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay, Rex.”
He must have heard her, because all the fight drains out of him in an instant and he goes limp in his bonds again. The only movement in the room is the strained rise and fall of his chest, and Ahsoka finds herself matching his rattling breaths as he fades into unconsciousness once again.
She knows that it’s selfish, that it’s not the Jedi way, but she wants so badly to ignore Rex’s wishes and just tell them something, anything. Even bad information would give him a break. She considers his trembling, sweat-soaked form and thinks that perhaps a break wouldn’t mean much at this point. Without medical attention, the pneumonia will kill him soon anyway.
Ahsoka curls up on her cot, drawing the threadbare fabric that serves as her blanket around her shoulders. She tells herself that Rex knows what he can handle, and that he wouldn’t lie to her about it just to reassure her. She tells herself that it doesn’t matter how he dies, whether peacefully in his sleep or drowning, frantic for air and surrounded by enemies. She tells herself that she’s a Jedi, and one man’s life is not worth surrendering to a mercenary’s demands.
She doesn’t believe any of it.
“I’m scared, Rex,” she whispers. “I know I shouldn’t be, but…” Her voice breaks, and she chokes back a sob. “I really think we’re not going to get out of this one, and I’m so scared.”
Across the room, Rex remains silent.
-:-:-:-:-:-
The Kessians keep to a consistent schedule, as far as Ahsoka can tell. She knows that the standard six hours must have passed since the last session, but it feels so much shorter when Jatan opens the door with a creak of old metal that makes Rex startle awake. Jatan looks over the clone trooper’s prone form and then makes eye contact with Ahsoka, face set in an expression of mocking pity, and says, “It looks like this will be our last session like this, dear girl.”
Ahsoka is too numb to respond beyond taking a shaky breath. Jatan smiles a little at that. “A pity, really. Oh, well. I suppose we’ll just have to find some other way to get answers out of you. Kerod?”
One of his henchmen hands him the end of the hose, while another drapes the cloth over Rex’s face. Ahsoka sucks in a deep breath and sees Rex do the same. Jatan asks, “Where is the medical station?” Ahsoka clenches her jaw tight enough to grind her teeth and shakes her head once, firmly. Jatan sneers, and the water turns on.
Ahsoka locks her eyes on Rex and starts counting.
The first few minutes pass the same way they have the past few sessions. Rex doesn’t move except for the slow furl and unfurl of his hands, Ahsoka keeps her gaze on him but watches the Kessians out of the corner of her eye, and Jatan watches her reactions with all the attention of a predator trying to determine its prey’s weakness.
Then, at three minutes and 42 seconds, Rex’s chest jerks. His whole body flinches and then he’s thrashing in his bonds, pulling against the manacles, twisting his head away from the flow of water. For a moment, Ahsoka isn’t sure what’s happened, but as Rex’s chest heaves and twitches, she realizes.
He’s drowning.
“Stop,” she rasps, “Stop, you’re killing him!”
Jatan’s expression is impassive. “Well, my dear, it hasn’t been much use to us alive. Perhaps I overestimated your attachment to it.”
Rex’s struggling is getting weaker. The water keeps flowing for another few seconds, and then Ahsoka notices Rex’s hand feebly strike the board he’s bound to, once. Twice. On the third time, Ahsoka screams, “Stop! Stop, I’ll tell you! Just let him breathe! Please!”
Jatan toggles off the water immediately and one of the other Kessians peels the soaked cloth off of Rex’s face. He’s motionless, eyes closed and face slack, and Ahsoka can feel her own breaths tripping over each other as she realizes that he’s not breathing.
A Kessian steps forward and slams his meaty fist against the center of Rex’s chest. He hits him again. Again. There’s a terrible, familiar crack of bone breaking. Again. Finally, finally, Rex’s whole body spasms; he heaves, vomits water, and then goes boneless against the table, gulping in deep, desperate breaths.
Ahsoka collapses to the floor of the cell, shaking with a dizzying combination of fear and relief. She feels lightheaded, can’t hear anything over the white noise swirling through her mind, and it’s disorienting; she should probably at least try to pay attention to what’s happening in the cell, but the world won’t stop spinning.
She comes to just in time to catch Jatan saying, “... perhaps another round is necessary to loosen your tongue, girl. Adron, put the cloth back.”
“No!” Ahsoka gasps. “No, please, I- I’ll tell you.”
Her eyes won’t quite focus on the other side of the cell, but she can see Jatan lower the hose, just a little, and forces herself to choke out, “The medical station… it’s in orbit around Vesoth. Just, please… please, no more.”
Jatan gives her a patronizing smile. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He turns to the others, handing off the hose. “Kerod, set a course for Vesoth. I want to confirm this information before taking it to our buyer. Tavos, bring the young lady some food and water. And a better blanket, too.”
“Yes, sir. And the clone?”
Jatan waves a dismissive hand. “Leave it. It’s not going to last much longer anyway.”
Ahsoka forces herself to stand, even though her entire body is trembling and her knees ache. “Wait. Please,” she begs, “please, let me take care of him, he’s sick, he’s dying- ”
Jatan’s expression hovers somewhere between incredulity and pity. He doesn’t say anything, just stares as she pleads with him, like he thinks he’s broken her and can’t quite believe it. After a long moment, he shakes his head, summons his men, and strides out of the cell without another word. Behind them, the door thuds shut with an awful sort of finality.
Ahsoka's knees are practically knocking together, so she lets herself sink back to the floor and tries to take a few deep breaths. They don’t steady her as much as she had hoped, but at least she feels a little less like she’s about to hyperventilate. Blinking back tears, she looks across the room.
Rex isn’t moving, but for the stuttered rise and fall of his chest, the tremors in his arms, the twitch of his fingers against the cold metal slab he’s strapped to. She knows none of that’s a good sign, but he’s alive, at least. She almost sobs in relief. He’s alive.
She’s not sure how long she just sits there, watching him breathe. After a while, the hall echoes with heavy footfalls and she startles a little. When the latch on the door clicks, too loud in the fragile quiet of the cell, she sees Rex flinch so minutely that she wouldn’t have caught it if she hadn’t been watching so closely.
He’s awake. She has no idea how lucid he is; near-drowning can cause brain damage, she’s pretty sure, but he wasn’t without air for that long. He doesn’t react when the door swings open, but there’s something careful about his breathing that makes her think he may be at least semi-aware of what’s happening around him.
Tavos lumbers in, and Ahsoka tries to ignore him. She doesn’t need to deal with his triumphant leering right now, not when Rex is sick and hurt and maybe awake. There’s a chance Tavos will ignore Rex if he thinks he’s still unconscious, so she doesn’t want to give him any reason to loiter in the cell.
The Kessian slides a tray of food and water through the ray shield. A blanket follows. Ahsoka keeps her eyes fixed on Rex, as though he’ll stop breathing if she looks away. Tavos lingers by the ray shield, just on the edge of her vision, for a minute or so, but seems to realize that she isn’t going to acknowledge his presence and lumbers out without a word.
Ahsoka waits until his footsteps have faded into silence and then a little longer for good measure. Then she swallows, hard, and calls out, “Rex?”
Her voice is barely more than a whisper, just loud enough to carry across the space between them, but Rex hears it. His eyes flutter and crack open, and he winces even in the dim light. His eyes wander deliriously. But after a long moment, his gaze drifts over and fixes on her.
Ahsoka sobs in relief. “Force, Rex. I thought…” She manages a shaky sigh, sits back on her heels. Without thinking, she asks, “Are you okay?”
For several long moments, he doesn’t answer, a tiny frown furrowing his brow. Then, in a slurred rasp, he manages, “Yeah… m’okay,” and follows it up with a harsh, wet coughing fit that goes on for way too long.
When the fit finally ends, Rex slumps back against the metal slab, struggling to breathe. Ahsoka’s vision blurs, hot tears slipping down her cheeks. “You’re not,” she whispers, “but I guess it was a pretty stupid question.”
Another few long moments pass before Rex takes a rattling breath and rasps, “Wh… What did you…”
“Tell them?”
He nods faintly, eyes slipping shut. She takes in the fevered flush of his cheeks, the dampness of his lashes, the exhaustion that seems to cling to his very bones, and says, as neutrally as she can manage, “I told them about the medical station over Vesoth.”
His eyes flicker open and fix on her. Despite his weariness and the haze of sickness, there is pride in his gaze. His lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, then he lets his eyes fall closed again.
The silence stretches long enough that Ahsoka is sure Rex has fallen asleep, only to break when Rex slurs, “‘Soka?”
“Yeah, Rex?”
“M’tired.”
Ahsoka sobs. “Yeah, Rexter, I know.” More hot tears are sliding down her cheeks, and her vision is so blurry, she can’t even see him across the room. She takes a few deep breaths and tries to keep her voice from shaking so she doesn’t worry him. “You can sleep, Rex. I’m okay. Just sleep.”
After a few long, quiet minutes, his rasping breaths even out and his clenched hands relax.
Ahsoka exhales. Now it’s just a matter of time. She figures she’s only bought Rex a day or so of rest; once the Kessians realize that the information she gave them is outdated, they will come back, and they will show no mercy. Rex is struggling to breathe , even in sleep, and with a cold feeling in her gut, Ahsoka forces herself to accept that he will not survive the next round of torture. He barely survived this round. And the chances of them being rescued, which were already pretty slim, are getting slimmer every minute they spend in hyperspace.
Horror curdles in her gut. The most merciful thing at this point would be for him to die in his sleep, before Jatan tortures him to death.
She’s bought him time to die.
The tears come faster now, and she can’t hold in the wretched sobs that wrack her frame. The cot seems like it’s miles away, so Ahsoka curls up on the floor of the cell and cries herself to sleep.
-:-:-:-:-:-
Ahsoka is jolted awake when the ship shudders violently. There’s a familiar groan of metal and a wave of vertigo that she’s come to associate with a sudden drop from hyperspace. The lights flicker. She tries to get up, but the ship jolts again and she stumbles, catching herself on her hands and knees.
The lights flicker again and go out. The ever-present buzz of the ray shields is gone. The hum of the ship’s engine is gone.
Whatever was suppressing the Force is gone.
Ahsoka scrambles to her feet; she reaches out for the Force and it sings in response, flowing to her like water breaking through a dam. The sheer relief nearly sends her to her knees again, but the Force steadies her, soothes the burning in her eyes and the pounding in her head. The ache of her muscles fades into the background.
She’s across the room in seconds, reaching desperately for Rex’s faint Force signature and clinging to it, letting it draw her to him even in the blackness. She hesitates to touch, but even as her hands hover over him, she can feel the heat rolling off his skin. Gingerly, she settles her hands on the sides of his face, feels the fever burning her cold fingers.
At the touch, Rex shifts ever so slightly, pressing into her hands, and Ahsoka does her best to project soothing calm through the Force, even though she feels none of it. He settles and she reluctantly pulls her hands away. She’s almost certain that he’s not awake, but the mere thought of leaving him without comfort makes her feel nauseous, so she trails her fingers down his arm to the manacle encircling his wrist.
The Force surges to respond to her call; the lock clicks and the binding falls open. Ahsoka hastens to unlock the other three cuffs, and finally, finally, Rex is free of the awful table. She maneuvers him off the cold slab, trying not to jar his ankle or his ribs. The slant of the table actually helps; she ends up mostly having to support his head and guide his body to the floor.
The ship jolts again, and Ahsoka loses her balance, landing hard on her already aching knees. Instead of trying to get back up, she fumbles for Rex, dragging him the last few feet to the corner of the cell. She settles into the relative safety of the confined space, a shoulder against each wall, and pulls Rex up to lean against her, his back against her chest and his head tilted back against her shoulder. The heat radiating from his head is uncomfortable against her sensitive lek.
The fever is so high. She’s not as familiar with human anatomy as she probably should be, considering most of the people she knows are human, but she’s still pretty sure it’s dangerous for Rex’s temperature to be so elevated. She thinks being propped up against her might be helping, though; his wheezing breaths barely catch in his throat and don’t feel as strained as they did when he was bound to the sloped table.
Reaching out for the Force, Ahsoka summons the blanket and cup of water from the other side of the cell. She’s shaky, and by the time the cup reaches her, the outside of it is wet with what sloshed over. But the blanket is warm and dry enough, so she wraps it around Rex’s shivering form as best she can one-handed.
With a trembling hand, she raises the water cup to his lips. She tilts it back slowly, uncertain in the total darkness. When he responds, it’s violent and unexpected; he flinches so hard she almost drops him.
“...no …don’t… ”
His voice is weak, thready, and she probably wouldn’t have heard it if not for his closeness. It takes her a moment to understand, but when she does, she feels sick. After days of being waterboarded, of course he would react badly to someone trying to pour anything down his throat.
Her own throat feels tight, and it takes her two tries to choke, “Rex, you have to drink. You need water.”
He doesn’t respond to that, not even a twitch, and she realizes that he’s probably in the throes of a fevered stupor and definitely not lucid. He might not even be awake at all. Her hand is still shaking when she sets the cup down beside her, water sloshing over its sides.
Another clanging noise echoes through the darkness and the ship shudders. From far off, she thinks she can hear footsteps, but they’re light and too numerous to be the Kessians, so she’s not certain they’re footsteps after all. The thought of the Kessians sends a shudder down her spine, and she lets go of Rex with one hand and reaches out into the darkness and into the Light.
With a flick of her wrist, the metal table groans, strains, and then wrests itself free of the bolts fastening it to the floor. A thrust of her open palm flips it on its side, forming a makeshift barricade between them and the door.
She pulls her arm back and tries to adjust Rex’s slipping form. He’s not particularly heavy - in fact, he’s lost an unhealthy amount of weight between the illness and the lack of food - but he still slumps in her embrace, and she’s too tired to heave him back up.
The noise is getting closer now, and she’s almost certain it’s the sound of many footsteps moving rapidly in their direction. Ahsoka curls around Rex as best she can; she’s too exhausted to do much in a fight, but she has the Force as her ally and she can shield Rex with her own body if nothing else.
The footsteps are in the hallway. She can hear distant crashes, each a little louder, a little nearer, and she pulls Rex a little tighter to her. The smallest noise of pain slips out of him, but she can’t make herself let go. Fear makes her limbs tight and her thoughts narrow into one singular thought: survive.
There’s no click of the latch, just a creaking strain of metal and a crash as the door slams open and hits the wall behind it. Light spills in, bright and cutting in the darkness. There are several pairs of beams moving across the wall opposite the doorway, and then footsteps as a small group of dimly lit white figures enter the cell.
They don’t see her and Rex immediately; Ahsoka doesn’t let them. She flings out one hand and the two nearest figures are flung across the cell, slamming into the far wall and crumpling to the ground. When the other three whirl around to face her, she wrenches her hand up and their weapons fly out of their grasps, clattering into the darkness. She’s about to throw the men themselves into the walls when a beam of light falls over her and a familiar voice says,
“Commander?”
She falters, raised hand beginning to tremble, and squints into the brightness. In the hallway, more footsteps are approaching; the beam of light swings away, and the voice calls, “They’re here! Weapons down, and get me a medic, now!”
There are other voices, calling their responses, and movement on the other side of the cell, but Ahsoka can only focus on the familiar silhouette, smooth armor accented with sharp winged pauldrons. He reaches up to pull his helmet off, sets it on the ground so the twin beams of light illuminate their corner, but don’t shine in her eyes. Then he moves forward, cautious, with empty hands raised in submission.
“Commander?” The unmodulated voice is soft, comforting in its familiarity. “It’s Jesse. I’m going to come closer, alright?”
Jesse. Ahsoka almost sobs in relief, but chokes it back and babbles, “Jesse. Jesse, Rex is- he’s-”
“I know, Commander. Kix is on his way. The generals too.” He comes around the upturned table and lowers himself to the floor in front of her. There’s a wariness in his eyes, and a deep sorrow, like he’s witnessing something tragic and can’t look away. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to touch her or Rex, just sits a silent vigil while they wait for their medic to arrive.
When the next squad gets there, Kix is among them. He pushes through the other clones and, without a word between them, Jesse scoots to the side so Kix can settle into his spot. For a long moment, the medic just stares at Ahsoka, at Rex cradled unmoving in her arms, and he looks old and tired and so, so sad. Then he shakes himself a little and the mask of professionalism slips back into place.
“Commander Tano,” he says, voice a soft, practiced calm. “I need you to lay him down so I can examine him.”
She knows. She knows, but… She shakes her head, fingers curling into Rex’s feverish skin, pulling him a little closer. Kix seems to understand, because he doesn’t try to force the issue, just keeps talking in that low, soothing tone.
“I won’t take him from you, Commander. You’ll still be right here. But I need to see how badly he’s injured.”
A long moment passes in silence, and Ahsoka can feel panic building up in her throat, but she trusts Kix and she trusts Jesse. They’re Rex’s brothers, and she can feel their fear through the Force, like a cold pressure in the back of her skull. Trembling, she lays Rex out on the damp floor between her and Kix. Kix shoots her a look of utmost gratitude and leans forward over his captain.
The lighting in the cell is still dim, sourced only by the beams from the troopers’ helmets, and most of them are still gathered on the far side of the room or out in the hallway. So when Kix leans forward, his shadow obscures Rex from her view, and Ahsoka lurches forward. It’s not really intentional, more a combination of her own unsteadiness and the need to assure herself that she can still reach him, but it seems to startle Kix and Jesse, because Kix actually pauses his inspection to glance up at her and Jesse reaches out as if to hold her back, hand stopping just short of her arm.
“Sorry,” she whispers, drawing back a little and trying to keep her trembling under control. The two men across from her exchange a look, and then Jesse is getting to his feet, stepping over Rex’s legs, and then settling back down on the floor beside Ahsoka.
“Can I touch you, Commander?” His voice is so gentle, understanding, and she hates that he’s seen enough of his brothers suffer that he understands her current mess of emotions. When she looks up at him, he has one arm up, an invitation, and she’s so desperate for contact, for comfort, that she barely hesitates before scooting closer and letting him drape his arm across her shoulders.
She’s shaking - still? again? - and feels Jesse’s other arm come up to encircle her. He holds himself tense, hesitant, like he’s not sure how best to comfort his superior officer when he himself is undoubtedly scared too. Ahsoka doesn’t even let herself think, just leans into him, and he relaxes, folds her into his embrace, and tucks her head beneath his chin.
Meanwhile, Kix hunches over Rex, gloves already off, hands impossibly gentle as they move over feverish skin; he tilts Rex’s head back to examine the bruising around his neck, presses lightly at his broken ribs, frowns hard at the swollen, inflamed ankle. He lays a palm in the center of Rex’s chest, right over his heart, to feel his laboured breathing. Ahsoka knows Kix well enough to see through his collected calm; it’s serious, and Kix is afraid.
“Kix?” Jesse asks; he must have noticed it too, because there’s an apprehension in his voice that he’s been more successful at hiding until now.
Kix shakes his head a little, doesn’t look up from his patient. “It’s pretty bad, Jesse. I need to get him to the medbay immediately.”
Jesse shifts, jostling Ahsoka as he brings his arm up to speak into his wrist comm. Ahsoka doesn’t catch the exchange - one of her montrals is pressed against Jesse’s neck, and the vibration when he speaks muffles the words into a low hum. A familiar voice responds, but they don’t speak long enough for her to make out who it is before the comm cuts off. Jesse settles his arm back around her.
A few moments later, Ahsoka hears more footsteps and tenses, pushing herself more upright and twisting to see the door. Kix doesn’t even look up from his patient, but Jesse squeezes her shoulder and reassures her, “It’s alright, Commander. It’s the generals.”
A second later, Anakin tears into the room, all power and fury and fear, and it might have been comforting at one point, but right now Ahsoka is too exhausted to be anything but overwhelmed by it. She presses herself smaller into Jesse’s protective embrace, one hand reaching to brush against Rex’s wrist.
It’s a tiny movement, but Kix must notice, because he glances up at her and then spins around and snaps - snaps - at Anakin, “General, you need to calm down.”
Anakin freezes, taking in the scene with lightning-blue eyes. The fury is twisting his face and the dim light cast by his lightsaber and the troopers’ helmets makes him look like a monster. No, Ahsoka thinks, turning her face into Jesse’s shoulder, like the Son.
Whatever Anakin was going to say is cut off by Kix’s sharp voice. “They’ve been through enough, sir. And I think you’re overwhelming your padawan.”
She imagines Anakin looks chagrined as she feels his storm of emotions recede so fast it makes her dizzy. She can hear his breathing from across the room, forcibly controlled, and a few measured footsteps as he comes closer. He doesn’t say anything, but his mind brushes against their bond, soft as a summer breeze.
Snips?
She pushes a brief feeling of okay toward him, but before she can elaborate, more footsteps echo in the hallway. Shoving down the surge of panic that wells up at the noise - Anakin is here, and he won’t let anything else hurt them - Ahsoka drags her gaze up to see Master Obi-Wan and Commander Cody enter the cell. Obi-Wan tamps down hard on his rush of relief, but she feels it all the same. She can’t manage a smile, but when he meets her gaze, his eyes go soft and she can tell that he understands.
Cody, on the other hand, makes a choked sound and takes an aborted step forward, eyes fixed on Rex’s too thin, too pale, too still form. He stops himself, makes a visible effort to pull himself together, but isn’t quite successful. Obi-Wan places a steadying hand on Cody’s shoulder, and Cody draws in a shuddering breath, holds it for a beat, and then lets it out slowly. In a voice that is barely a whisper, he asks, “Is he- Is he alive?”
If Kix is at all unsettled by Cody’s tone, he doesn’t show it. “He’s not dead yet. But I need to get him back to the medbay, now. Where’s that damned transport I called for?”
One of the troopers standing just inside the doorway says, “On its way, sir. Should be here in the next few minutes at most.”
“How bad is it, Kix?” Anakin asks. He’s still angry, but it’s simmering beneath the surface. Ahsoka wonders if he’s dealt with the Kessians already, because she thinks he might just kill them after seeing this.
“Broken ribs, broken ankle, bruises all over,” Kix spits each word out like he’ll choke on them if he doesn’t, “hypothermia, dehydration, malnutrition, fever.” The medic moves his hand to rest over Rex’s heart again, takes a deep breath, and then with a forced calm says, “There’s fluid in his lungs, General, I’d honestly be shocked if he didn’t have pneumonia.”
Anakin’s free hand drags down his face, and Ahsoka can feel his frustration projecting across the bond. Obi-Wan shoots him a sharp look, but doesn’t comment, probably because he feels the same way and is just better at hiding it. Anakin looks at Ahsoka, still leaning into Jesse’s embrace.
“Ahsoka?”
She’s not sure if he’s asking her or Kix - she’s not sure if Anakin knows who he’s asking - so she just shakes her head a little, again pushing okay across the bond. He doesn’t look convinced, but before she can say anything, Kix is answering.
“Physically, she’s not hurt.” He looks her in the eye as he continues, “But don’t think I don’t see how exhausted you are, Commander. I want you in the medbay under observation for at least a standard day.”
Her head is pounding and she aches all over. Kix looks like he expects her to argue, but she just wants to sleep, and she wants to be near Rex, and so she nods. To his credit, Kix only lets his surprise show for the barest of seconds, though his concern lingers a little longer.
Before he can say anything else, there are more footsteps in the hall and a voice calls, “Sir! The stretcher’s here!”
“Thank fuck,” Kix says, turning to Anakin and Cody, “General, Commander, I’m going to need your help.”
Under Kix’s supervision, Anakin and Cody lift Rex onto the stretcher while Obi-Wan wanders over to speak to the troopers by the door. Ahsoka tries to keep track of what they’re saying, tries to keep Rex in view, tries to… she’s so tired. Beside her, Jesse murmurs something and Kix looks up, appraising her with sharp eyes that make her want to curl up and hide.
His gaze softens the tiniest bit, and he says, “I’m going to need you to carry her, Jesse. She’s definitely in no shape to walk. I’d prefer her on a stretcher, but we don’t have time to wait for another.”
Jesse shifts and then scoops her up, rising to his feet in one fluid motion that makes her feel irrationally jealous. She protests a little - almost panics, if she’s being honest with herself, but she’s not, she’s tired and she’s aching and she’s not panicking - when she can no longer see Rex, but Jesse moves closer to the stretcher and Ahsoka feels the anxiety rush away as quickly as it had come.
As Anakin and Obi-Wan start leading them out of the cell and down the hall, lighting the way with their sabers, Ahsoka feels heavier and heavier. Jesse, strangely enough, doesn’t seem to notice, carrying her with the same ease that made her so envious back in the cell when he had first picked her up. But she’s too tired to feel anything but heavy now. Vaguely, she thinks that maybe this isn’t a normal adrenaline crash, that she should probably tell Kix…
She’s asleep before they reach the end of the hall.
-:-:-:-:-:-
Ahsoka wakes up slowly. She’s warm and comfortable, on a soft bed in a bright room that smells sharply of disinfectant. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she sees the ceiling of the Resolute’s medbay, and for once, it’s a comforting familiarity instead of an annoyance.
For a moment, she lets herself just lay there, basking in the feel of fresh sheets and padding under her aching muscles. Carefully, she flexes her arms and legs, rolls her shoulders as much as she can while lying down, stretches her neck until it gives a satisfying pop.
The noise is small, but sharp in a space otherwise filled only with quiet breathing, and something moves beside her bed. She turns her head to see Rex, still unconscious, laid out on the bed beside hers, and Cody sitting in a chair between them, looking at her, a pad held loosely in one hand.
“Commander Tano,” he acknowledges, voice soft enough to not disturb the quiet of the room.
“Commander Cody,” she replies, just as softly, and then begins to push herself up, ignoring the protests of her muscles, so she can lean back against the pillows. Cody watches, perched on the edge of his seat, a sort of tension in his body that makes her think he’s ready to move forward if she needs help. As she relaxes into the cushions, the hard line of his spine eases and he leans forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at his hands.
She waits.
After a long moment, Cody looks up and meets her eyes and, with a quiet seriousness, says, “Thank you.”
She blinks. She doesn’t know Cody that well - he’s Obi-Wan’s second in command, yes, but even when she works directly under Obi-Wan, there’s rarely a time for the two commanders to work side by side. But she knows that he and Rex are close, that they trained together, that they call each other ori’vod, and she feels her throat tighten up.
When she opens her mouth to protest - I did nothing worth thanks, he suffered because of me, because of my choices, he almost died - Cody cuts her off. “I know what happened in that cell, Commander Tano. I was there when we questioned the Kessians. I know what they did to him, and to you.”
He pauses, looks back down at the pad in his hands, and she wonders if he was reading the mission reports. She wonders what they must say, if Cody is thanking her. His next words derail that train of thought, so quiet and devastating that she thinks they might not have been meant for her.
“They said he was dead.” He takes a deep breath, holds it, slowly lets it out. His hands tremble and he tightens his grip on the pad as he raises his head to look at her again. “Kix said he shouldn’t have survived. I have no doubt that he is alive because of you. So, thank you.”
Ahsoka doesn’t know how to respond to that, so she just nods mutely and hopes he understands. Cody nods in return, then leans forward to press a button beside her bed. There are footsteps from across the medbay and then Kix comes into view, looking exhausted but less despondent than he had the last time she saw him. When he sees that she’s awake, the tightness around his eyes eases and his mouth twitches into something that is almost a smile.
“Commander,” he says, coming up to stand beside her, briefly scanning the monitor at her bedside. Whatever information he gets from it must be satisfactory, because he turns all his attention to her. “You’ve been asleep for about fourteen hours. Your vitals look good, all things considered, and the drug should be out of your system in the next few hours.”
“Drug?” she rasps and regrets it instantly. The word scratches her dry throat and trips on her tongue on its way out, and Kix’s brow furrows. He reaches out to the table beside her bed and hands her a glass of water. Ahsoka’s hands tremble as she takes it, but she’s steady enough to raise it to her lips and let it soothe its way down her throat.
“Yes, sir. It looks like they were drugging your food. Nothing harmful, just enough to keep you from being able to fight back.” Kix takes the empty glass back and sets it back on the side table. “I still want you in the medbay for another ten hours, just for observation. And you’ll be on medical leave for a few days to make sure you take it easy.”
Ahsoka kind of wants to protest that last bit, if only on principle, but she’s still tired and her body still aches in a bone-deep kind of way, so she just nods her acceptance and leans back against her pillows. Besides, she and Kix both know that she would just be back in the medbay waiting for Rex to wake up as soon as she was discharged.
She’s about to ask about Rex when the medbay doors slide open and Anakin and Obi-Wan stride through. Ahsoka glances at Cody, who doesn’t look at all surprised by their appearance, and thinks that he must’ve called them just after he called Kix over. As the Jedi walk up, Cody begins to rise from his chair, wearily, like every bone in his body is made of lead, and Ahsoka wonders how long he’s been sitting by his brother’s side.
“No need for that, Cody,” Obi-Wan murmurs as he comes up beside them, placing one hand on Cody’s shoulder and gently pushing him back down. The Commander goes easily, slumping back into the chair, and Obi-Wan stands next to him, letting his hand rest on the pauldron like he thinks Cody might try to get back up again.
Anakin comes to a stop beside Ahsoka, looking worried and relieved and exhausted all at once. The anger that had been thrumming beneath his skin the last time she saw him is muted to the point of being almost non-existent. Instead, the bond radiates pride and concern, and Ahsoka can’t help the tiny smile it brings to her face.
“I’m okay, Master,” she reassures before he can ask, and he raises an eyebrow, though the corners of his mouth twitch in the beginnings of a smile.
When Anakin turns to his medic, Kix huffs a little, “She’s doing fine, General. Just needs a little time to get her strength back up.”
“Yes… About that,” Obi-Wan says. He looks almost apprehensive, exchanging a look with Anakin that makes Ahsoka feel like they just had an entire conversation in the span of a second. “Ahsoka, you seem to be displaying the symptoms of Force Exhaustion.”
She starts a little, eyes flickering between her master and grandmaster. “But, Master… I was cut off from the Force. I barely used it the whole time. I thought Force Exhaustion only happens when you use the Force too much without letting your body rest.”
Obi-Wan nods. “Or when you use the Force too much while your body is unable to support channeling that much power.” At her confusion, he continues, “Ahsoka, you were cut off from the Force for days, during which time you were drugged and kept in poor living conditions. And when you could access the Force again, you immediately called on far too much for your body to handle.”
“But Master, all I did was move a few objects! Even tired, that’s not enough to cause Force Exhaustion.”
Obi-Wan glances at Anakin again, then looks back at her. “Ahsoka,” he says, voice soft, “You used the Force to keep Rex alive.”
Ahsoka sucks in a sharp breath, and Anakin lets out a sigh. “You didn’t realize it, did you?”
Mutely, she shakes her head. No, she hadn’t known. If what they’re saying is true… that’s powerful Force healing, something she’s barely trained in. To use that kind of power, especially unintentionally… She suddenly understands Obi-Wan’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, to use the Force without knowing; that kind of lack of control can get people killed.
Both Jedi seem to pick up on her growing horror, because Anakin immediately reaches out through the bond to reassure her and Obi-Wan gestures with his free hand for her to settle. Calm nudges at her mind and she pulls a face at the blatant Force-suggestion, but lets the feeling wash over her and gently push her back into the pillows.
Kix returns, frowning first at the monitor beside her bed and then at the two Jedi standing nearby. “All due respect, generals, you’re stressing my patient. She needs to rest.”
Anakin looks like he might protest, but Obi-Wan nods in agreement. “Of course. We can discuss this some other time. Come along, Anakin.”
Anakin is clearly reluctant, but Ahsoka reaches out to catch his hand and squeezes his fingers lightly. “It’s okay, Master. I’m okay.” Anakin relaxes a little at that, then looks over his shoulder at Rex’s too still form, laid out on the next bed over. The furrow between his brows and the tightness at the corners of his mouth returns.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan bends down to talk to Cody, and the Commander slowly heaves himself out of the chair. As Cody gets to his feet, Obi-Wan meets Ahsoka’s eyes, and though he doesn’t say anything, she can feel his approval and relief resonate across their bond, and his eyes are warm as he smiles softly at her.
Obi-Wan exchanges another pointed glance with Anakin as he takes Cody by the elbow and gently steers him out of the room. Anakin huffs a little, but can’t quite hide the small smile at Obi-Wan’s wordless, playful chastisement.
“Well, I’m gonna get scolded if I stay much longer.” He glances at Rex one more time, then turns back to her and squeezes her hand. “Ahsoka. You did so well. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you did. And I am so, so proud of you.”
Ahsoka feels the backs of her eyes prickle with more tears, and dammit, she’s already dehydrated. Still, she manages a weak smile and whispers, “Thank you, Master.”
Anakin nods, squeezes her fingers again, and looks like he’s about to say more when Kix clears his throat from where he’s checking Rex’s readings, fingers drumming along the side of the monitor. Anakin pulls an exaggerated expression of petulant annoyance, and Ahsoka can’t help her snort of laughter.
“General,” Kix warns.
“I’m going, Kix, I’m going. We’ll talk later, okay, Snips?”
She nods, still smiling as Kix practically chases her master out of the medbay.
-:-:-:-:-:-
Ahsoka spends a stretch of time dozing. When she wakes, the lights have been dimmed for the ship’s night cycle and there is a different medic on duty, tending to a trooper across the medbay. She feels better - still not fully recovered, but no longer like her limbs are made of lead. She stretches, and her back and neck pop satisfyingly a few times. With a sigh of contentment, she rolls onto her side and nearly bolts upright because Rex is awake.
He looks terrible, dark smudges under his eyes, cheeks a bit sunken, skin sallow. His bones are a little too prominent beneath the medical clothes, and the tunic hangs off his frame like it’s a size too big - which she knows it can’t be, because pretty much all the clones wear the same exact size. There’s an IV line inserted into the back of his hand and a nasal cannula hooked over his ears. But he’s sitting up - with the help of a few pillows - and breathing steadily, and he offers her a tired, but genuine smile as he meets her eyes.
“Rex,” she breathes. “Thank the Force.” Ahsoka pushes herself upright and swings her feet over the side of her bed so she’s facing him. He puts down the pad he’s been holding - and she is going to have words with whoever gave him access to mission reports if Kix doesn’t find them first - and twists so he’s facing her as well.
“Ahsoka,” he says, and his voice still sounds wrecked, but it’s stronger than the last time she heard it. “Are you okay?”
She snorts, humorless, and feels heat prickling just behind her eyes. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
There’s a ghost of a smirk on his face as he replies, “You first.”
Her huff of laughter is more genuine this time. “You’re a child.”
“Technically, I’m younger than you, sir.”
“Less mature, too, apparently,” she grins.
He chuckles, absently scratching at the sheets with the hand that doesn’t have an IV line in it. He looks at her, and the playfulness is replaced by sincerity as he says, “I’m okay, Ahsoka.” At her skeptically raised eyebrow, he amends, “I will be okay.”
Ahsoka considers him for a long moment before nodding in acceptance. “Me too.”
His brows draw together at that, and his gaze flicks from her face to her body and then back. Voice low, he asks, “Did they hurt you?”
She lets out another humorless laugh, and this time she can’t stop the tears from forming, hot and blurry in her eyes. She blinks them back. “Aside from making me watch while they tortured my best friend? No. No, they didn’t hurt me.”
Rex takes a deep breath, drags his fingers over the sheets absentmindedly. “Ahsoka…” He shakes his head a little, eyes so, so sad. “You’re not blaming yourself for that, are you?”
“Yeah, I am! I just watched, I didn’t…” She suddenly can’t look him in the eyes anymore, and drops her gaze to her hands. “I should have done something.”
“Ahsoka.” He pauses, and she can hear the rustle of the sheets beneath his hand, still raking his fingers over the fabric. The noise is unbearably loud in the quiet medbay. “You couldn’t have stopped them.”
“Except I could have.” It’s barely a whisper, but it feels much louder. “They tortured you. Because I wouldn’t answer their questions.” She takes a deep, shuddering inhale, and the exhale is a confession, “It’s my fault . If I hadn’t been there-”
“They would have tortured me anyway. If you hadn’t been there, they would have asked me about the station instead.”
A few tears trickle down her cheeks, and she brushes them away. “You wouldn’t’ve told them anything.”
“No.” His blunt nails scrape against the fabric. “No, I wouldn’t. And then they wouldn’t have had any reason to keep me alive.” He waits until she finally drags her eyes up from her lap and meets his gaze. “I would have died in there without you.”
She releases a shuddering breath that is absolutely not a sob. “You almost died in there with me.”
“Ahsoka.” There’s gentle reproach in his tone, and he sighs heavily. Holding her gaze, he says, “You did nothing wrong.” He cuts off her protest before she can even open her mouth. “Vod’ika, you did nothing wrong.”
The dam breaks.
Ahsoka leans forward, drops her head into her hands, and cries, great heaving breaths that make her chest hurt and her head spin. Dimly, she’s aware of Rex talking to her, something low and soothing, though she can’t make out the words through the sobs wracking her body. There are footsteps approaching, two similar voices exchanging words, and then footsteps retreating.
Rex keeps talking, a steady stream of familiar sound, and she clings to it as she tries to release her tumultuous emotions into the Force. Slowly, slowly, the tight feeling in her chest eases, and the Light’s warm comfort seeps into her.
When she feels like she’s been completely wrung out, Ahsoka raises her head. She and Rex are alone, which surprises her; the medic on duty really should have heard that. Then she remembers the quiet exchange, and feels another rush of gratitude for her friend.
Rex is quiet now, just looking at her with warm brown eyes filled with sorrow and understanding. His free hand scrapes over the sheet again before reaching out to beckon her forward. Without hesitation, she slips off of her bed and moves to his, climbing up beside him. He scoots over, tucks her under his arm, and rests his forehead against her montral. She can feel the tremor that runs through his entire body, the way his breath catches in his throat, the wetness against her montral.
He cries silently, and it doesn’t surprise her. The clones were bred to be soldiers, and modified to withstand the stress that came with. It breaks her heart, though, to see her best friend cry like he’s not allowed to. She leans into him and he lets her take some of his weight.
At one point, his arm slips off her shoulder and his fingernails scrape over the sheets again, and she can feel him relax into her a little more. She lays her hand over his, so he can feel the soft sheets beneath his palm and her warm calluses on his knuckles, and not the cold metal slab that he keeps checking for.
After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, Rex shifts beside her, and Ahsoka moves to help him lay back against the pillows. She’s pretty sure Kix has him on decent painkillers, but his ribs are likely hurting after all that.
As he sinks into the pillows, she reluctantly moves to get off the bed. She needs to report to Anakin and Obi-Wan, and the Jedi Council will probably want to know what happened as well. And the men… If Cody was that worried, it’s safe to assume that the 501st is waiting for an update on their Captain and Commander as well.
Rex catches her wrist before her feet hit the floor and tugs, not hard enough to pull her back but enough to make his displeasure at her leaving known. She twists to face him, and the smile doesn’t feel as forced as she thought it would.
“I should go. You need to rest.”
“You need to rest,” he replies, half-serious, half-petulant. “Besides, you haven’t been discharged yet. Kix will have your head.”
She sighs, more dramatic than she needs to be, and leans back against his shoulder. “I have to report to my master. And the Jedi Council.”
Rex closes his eyes and mutters, “Fuck the Jedi Council. You’ve been through enough. We’ve been through enough.”
She doesn’t say anything, even though she agrees. They’ve suffered these past few days, and the universe can spin on without them for a few hours. Still, she should let the others know that Rex is okay; Cody and Anakin and Obi-Wan and Kix and Jesse and the rest of the 501st deserve that much. As soon as Rex falls asleep, she’ll go tell them, and then she’ll find somewhere to take a nap because the bone-deep exhaustion may be gone, but the hazy tiredness that comes with crying until you can’t anymore is dragging her down into the bed. She shifts a little and-
“Vod’ika,” Rex grumbles, “sleep.”
So she does.