Chapter Text
"About time you showed up, sir!"
Obi-Wan grins despite himself at the Captain's teasing, even as he finds himself rather occupied trying to wrestle the spider droid he'd landed on to the ground. They keep shifting around the layout of the vital electronics in the tricky buggers, making it difficult to be as clean and efficient in dispatching them with his lightsaber as he'd prefer. "Well if you don't appreciate the assistance, I'm sure there are plenty of other—"
"Captain Rex doesn't speak for the rest of us, General!" one of the other 501st troopers is quick to cut in, relief evident in their voice. "You really pulled our asses out of the fire!"
"I've seen better," Rex drawls, as though Obi-Wan cannot feel the weight of his attention in the Force or hadn't noticed the interested tilt of his bucket when the Jedi straightened back up. As if those weren't things he was becoming used to, when their battalions were posted alongside each other. "You mistimed the leap by a few seconds. Shame."
Obi-Wan feels his grin widen all on its own as he pushes his hair back out of his face once more. "I suppose I'll have to work on it, then. I'd hate to disappoint the esteemed Captain Rex."
"It's a relief to know that some Jedi are able to take direction."
Obi-Wan gives the captain a dry look, but also possesses the self awareness to acknowledge that the edges of his mouth keep twitching upwards. "On that note, where has my wayward padawan got off to?" he asks, squinting off against the horizon.
"You did tell General Skywalker not to engage the left flank, sir."
Obi-Wan sighs. "Yes, I suppose I did."
Hours pass in a half-remembered blur. Obi-Wan finds himself only the slightest bit singed by latemeal that night, blessedly long after conclusion of the latest battle (Obi-Wan is, at times, beginning to struggle to remember exactly which planet they find themselves on on any given day), and he's willing to count that as a win. Even if perhaps his commander and senior field medic would disagree.
But even Helix only fusses at him a little bit, so it can't be too bad.
"And then I swooped in—"
"Excuse me," Obi-Wan interrupts, lofting an eyebrow at Anakin across the campfire, "I do believe that I'm the one that did the swooping."
Anakin puffs up. Obi-Wan’s brow lifts higher. "Yeah, into a pit of droids, maybe—"
"Only to pull you out of it, dear one. As always." They lock eyes, Obi-Wan grinning and Anakin glowering, but Anakin deflates only moments later and simply rolls his eyes—especially once Ahsoka starts giggling at his side.
"Master Obi-Wan does have to save you an awful lot, Master," she teases, eyes glittering, and Obi-Wan winks at her.
"Such is a master's duty, young one, insomuch as we are able—"
Obi-Wan blinks, shakes his head.
The scene before him has changed.
He can't recall how it could have.
His padawan is being lead away by armed Temple Guards, two at each arm and a further four bracketing at each of the corners. Anakin thrashes, wild like a cornered animal, and gets nowhere. They continue to drag him inexorably up the Temple's steps. Each footfall is a pounding drum in chorus, echoing against his eardrums. They are taking him to the detention level, maybe one day to the Citadel, if they are ever able to properly secure it again.
"Master!"
Anakin looks scared. He looks dangerous. He looks scared, scared, scared—
"Master, help me! Please! You have to help me!"
Obi-Wan cannot.
He must.
He cannot. Anakin has done something—horrible—unforgivable—
"Master!"
The voice is higher, now. A boy's.
Ani is calling out for him.
Begging, pleading, believing his master will save him—
Anakin has touched the Dark, allowed it to guide his hand to destruction, become a danger to those around him—
He couldn't have. He's just a boy. Obi-Wan’s boy. He still needs help tying his obi in the morning, he is being forced to run just to keep up with the Guards' steps so that he is not dragged—
But he has. He will.
Obi-Wan knows it.
Obi-Wan cannot save him.
Not from this.
People speak a lot, Obi-Wan has found, of Jedi precognition. Of the way they seem ever able to sense danger, to side-step seconds before a blaster shot, to duck before a blow. They speak of warnings from the Force that give Jedi the edge in a fight (it’s always about the violence they are capable of, never their capacity to avoid it). They seldom understand these things, but then, that has never been much a deterrent.
They rarely speak about the sort of warnings from the Force that caution. That bid you to slow, to consider, to not rush to a decision. That warn against impulse or acting on first impressions. Perhaps those warnings aren’t as exciting. Obi-Wan often dreads them the most.
Obi-Wan wakes in the morning during what should be a perfectly average shore leave feeling heavy, as though the air is thicker or someone has been tampering with the artificial gravity, with the knowledge written into his bones that whatever happens today will have effects upon this galaxy beyond the scope of his perception—and that whatever it is, it will have just as far-reaching consequences for him, personally.
He allows himself a moment to breathe through that understanding and then he swings his legs over the side of his bed and rises to get ready for the day.
There is little else to be done.
It's quiet in Rex's head.
It's not quiet on the ship, of course. It never is, not even when you wish it would be. Maybe especially when you wish it would be.
He can't blame his brothers for that. They'd been stifled enough on Kamino, it would be a needless cruelty to stifle them now, especially in their downtime. Especially with the excitement of shoreleave looming over them, the closest thing to freedom many of them will ever get to experience.
The sounds of them rise and fall outside of Rex's door: chattering and bickering and conspiring, the occasional thudding and shouting that always accompanies the inevitable roughhousing. It usually makes smile, at least in the privacy of his bucket or his quarters where they can't see him do it and take it as encouragement.
He wonders if they'll forgive him this. If they'll understand that he did it for them.
Rex stares at the wall in front of him as he buttons up the front of his dress grays by rote, the action by this point ingrained and mindless even if he's had little cause to practice since deployment. He’s not Cody, frequently following behind his Jedi general into the sort of situations that would call for formal dress. He still remembers 17 drilling it into them gloves, then jacket anyway. You'll tarnish the buttons otherwise, and 17 wasn't the sort of vod that was willing to be embarrassed by having his cadets walk around with tarnished buttons. It didn't matter if he thought that clone soldiers having a dress uniform was about as useful as a bantha having fleas, it was the carelessness that was unacceptable.
If Rex learned anything from 17, it was that. Carelessness got people killed, and without even the dignity of a death that mattered.
Rex is tired of watching his brothers die without purpose.
He just hopes that the Council will listen, whatever this might end up costing him.
"Quite alright there, Captain?"
Rex doesn't startle at General Kenobi's sudden presence, heading in Rex's direction from down the corridor leading to the Council chambers when Rex turns to look, but admittedly that's mostly because many of those responses had been trained (beaten) out of them on Kamino. He offers the general a polite nod and bemoans that his helmet is currently in his bunk rather than on his head, hoping that his expression isn't too strained.
He'd been…expecting to contend with General Kenobi today. He knows that he sits on the very Council that Rex is here to see. He just…wasn't expecting to have to attempt to make small talk with him before he even managed to psych himself up for this. The meeting isn't even scheduled to start for another twenty clicks.
"Just fine, sir, thank you."
General Kenobi seems less than convinced—Rex has never been very good at lying, anyway, but he's also seen the Jedi eye General Skywalker that way before when he was trying to figure out if he was being lied to—but mercifully, he doesn't press.
What he does instead is almost worse.
"There's no need to be nervous, Captain," he says, with a smile that Rex is sure is supposed to be reassuring. "The Council doesn't bite, and I'm sure that whatever presentation you've prepared for us today will be as thoughtful and well executed as your work always is."
Rex's stomach feels like its suddenly sitting somewhere by his feet. "Thank you, sir," he manages anyway.
"Good man." General Kenobi claps him on the shoulder lightly the way Rex has seen him do with the men of the 212th a thousand times, nodding toward the heavy doors into the Council chambers. "I'm afraid I must head in now, but we'll send for you once we're ready. Try to remember to breathe." He smiles again. "You'll do just fine."
Rex will give the Jedi Council this, at least; they do not seem to be nearly as sluggish or inefficient as Skywalker always makes them out to be, or at least not so far. He is retrieved from the hall by the Jedi commander—padawan—on duty no more than fifteen clicks after the last of the Councilors that are physically on-planet at the moment have filtered into the room, and precisely at the scheduled time.
The sitting Council members' learners are the ones that take turns manning the desk just outside of the chambers, Rex knows. Kenobi has threatened Ahsoka and Skywalker both with that detail many times, the same way that Cody likes to do with latrine duty. He thinks this kid might be General Billaba's, he's heard that battalion's commander is even younger than the 501st's.
Standing before the Jedi Council might've been enough to make a lesser vod lose his nerve.
The chamber itself is ornate, in a way that speaks to long history rather than wealth. Even with millions of brothers, Rex struggles to imagine how many beings have stood where he's standing. The Council themselves sit poised and tall in a circle around him, taller still with the Coruscanti skyline behind them from higher up than Rex has ever had the privilege to see it save for from orbit. Their eyes are kind, Rex notes, but the authority here feels more real than he's ever found in a GAR setting. More earned, maybe.
Still. Rex didn't earn his Jai'g eyes by backing down when things got hard.
"Captain Rex," General Windu opens, solemn, folding his fingers together in his lap as he gives Rex his full attention. "I understand that you have something of great importance to share with us."
General Windu is who Rex had gone through to set up this meeting in the first place. Or, well, Ponds, technically, but Windu had actually made the arrangements and informed the other Councilors. He'd seemed like the best choice as the Master of the Order (although, as Rex has been given to understand, the Council exists because no Jedi has leave to act unilaterally) and apparently none too fond of Rex's general, at least from Skywalker's grumbling. The general asking what the meeting was about and then not pushing when Rex told him that he'd rather wait to discuss it in person had been the closest thing to a reassurance that Rex has gotten since he committed to this course of action that everything wasn't about to blow up in his face.
"I do, sir." The Jedi, Rex has learned, largely don't like to be referred to as general, and even less so in their home—but master feels like more of a departure from the military structure that he feels secure in than he's comfortable with right now. Sir will have to do. "You told us once that if we had concerns about any of the natborn officers we serve with, that we should come to you. That you would do whatever you could." Many of the Republic naval officers weren't fond of the clones and made that readily apparent early on. There must have been at least some truth to that offer, despite the Jedi's place in the chain of command where non-Jedi and non-clones are concerned being something of a gray area, because Rex knows that there are none on the Negotiator outside of the time that Admiral Yularen spends there rather than on the Resolute, and he's heard that it's a similar situation on the Endurance.
Rex isn't here to level accusations at a member of the Republic Navy, though.
There are a few exchanged glances, a few furrowed eyebrows. Rex is aware that every master on this Council is likely fully capable of maintaining a placid nonexpression until the heat death of the universe, so he wonders how much of it is for his comfort, to make them feel more approachable.
"We did," General Windu agrees.
"Stands, that offer does." Rex turns his head to give the Grandmaster of the Order his attention, and General Yoda meets his gaze levelly. "The clones, our responsibility, you are. Hear your concerns, we will."
Now or never. "I believe that one of the Jedi generals has not been conducting themselves accordingly to their rank and responsibilities," Rex informs them, voice and posture carefully modulated and manual-perfect, because it is his brothers and his men that he is here to protect and he will not fail them by presenting himself as anything less. "As a general, or—if you will forgive me for the presumption—as a Jedi."
The chambers go quiet, the air inside growing suddenly heavy. General Windu's eyes are just a little bit pinched at the corners when Rex's gaze finds them again. "Can you give us a name, Captain?"
Rex had sort of expected them to just—know, he supposes. There are only so many Jedi that he's interacted with enough to be making this sort of allegation towards, and he isn't sure whether it's a mark in their favor or against that he has to spell it out. His throat bobs. No backing out now. "General Anakin Skywalker. I've been—collecting evidence, for the past year. Since just after Commander Tano joined us at Christophsis. Casualty numbers, disobeyed orders, falsified reports."
A low screech, a heavy chair scraping against a stone floor. When Rex turns around, Obi-Wan Kenobi is on his feet and looking paler than Rex thinks he's ever seen him. Green, almost. Ill. "If you will excuse me, gentlebeings," he says, brushing nonexistent wrinkles from his tunics, "I fear I—must recuse myself."
Kenobi catches General Windu's eyes, gets a small nod, and then just—turns around and leaves. Rex stares after him, wide-eyed. He hadn't known what to expect from the Jedi, knowing how much he cares for his padawan, but it wasn't that.
General Windu sighs, and the sound draws Rex's attention away from the closed chamber doors. He's pinching the bridge of his nose when Rex turns back around, eyes closed as though he's warding off a migraine. "I would like to begin by thanking you for having the faith in this body to bring this matter to our attention. I am not ignorant of the risk you took in doing so. We will hear your evidence, and following that, an investigation will be opened accordingly."
Just like that? sits on the edge of Rex's tongue, but he leaves it unasked. "Thank you," he says instead. He breathes in and then out, steadily, once and then again. "There should be a datafile in each of your inboxes. I gave it to the com—padawan on duty to disseminate appropriately. Inside you will find all of the hard proofs I have been able to compile as well as my own notes. Most of it is formwork and data analysis but there are also some audio files and transcripts, as well as recorded footage from helmet cams."
"This is all very impressive, Captain," General Mundi muses, presumably scrolling through the file on his datapad. "You said that you've been gathering this since Christophsis?"
"That's around the time I really started having doubts," Rex explains. "He was a new general, young; I knew there was going to be a learning curve when we split off from the 212th. I tried to help as much he would let me. By Christophsis it became clear that things were still not markedly improving even though it had been nearly five months, and then there was Commander Tano to look out for as well, so I—decided to give him a year, and started documenting everything I could. General Skywalker's failure to so much as check-up on any of the men that had been infected with the blue shadow virus following that mission on Naboo almost exactly at that year mark only reinforced my resolve. In fact, I don't believe he even checked on Commander Tano until prompted to do so by Senator Amidala."
Generals Yoda and Windu exchange a grave look, General Yoda's ears drooping significantly. After moment of silent communication General Windu turns back to Rex, frowning just a little. "Tell me honestly, Captain—do you believe that Master Kenobi had any knowledge of this?"
Rex's gut says no, but he gives the question serious consideration before he gives an answer that he can't take back. "In theory, he would have had access to much of the same documentation that I did, as the head of the Third Systems," he allows, "however, General Skywalker's reports tend to be neither particularly thorough or particularly accurate. I believe he is aware of General Skywalker's tendency to disobey or circumvent orders that he disagrees with, but no moreso than anyone else on this Council. Our casualties are…high, but not so far out of proportion with the sort of missions we're usually assigned that it would reasonably ping his attention when he has an entire systems army to run." Rex exhales, more certain now that he's made these arguments out loud. "And he's the one that did sit with us, on Naboo."
General Windu nods, looking unsurprised but maybe a little bit relieved. "I have no doubt that Commander Cody would have handled the situation as he saw fit, if he thought his general might be the type to cover for his former padawan at the expense of his brothers."
Rex snorts quietly, startled. "You're not wrong, sir." He tilts his head. "Did you think…?"
"No," General Windu answers immediately. "Master Kenobi has been one of your brothers' staunchest defenders since he found all of you on Kamino. He cares for Skywalker greatly, but no. I don't believe he would allow his love for his student to stand in the way of his responsibilities." Windu sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That said: of course we would like to believe the best of all of our members, but as the High Council we cannot let that blind us in cases like this, and we would be remiss if we didn't at least consider the possibility."
"What happens now?"
"Take it from here, now, we shall," General Yoda answers, solemn. "Review all of the proofs you have provided us, we will, and conduct relevant interviews. Made, a decision will be."
"In the meantime," General Windu continues, picking up the thread, "both units will be grounded pending the results of the investigation. For now, we will consider it a shore leave. Best to keep this quiet until we know more." His frown deepens a little, brows furrowing in the center of his forehead. "I would also like to assign you a protective detail for the time being."
Rex's eyes widen in surprise. "Do you think that's necessary?"
"I would prefer not to," General Windu replies, "however, Skywalker is a very powerful knight that has been known to struggle with his anger in the past. With the information that you have provided us, I am even more concerned. We cannot discount the possibility that he has touched the Dark, or that he might once he catches word of this investigation. I do not doubt your fighting abilities, but Skywalker potentially lashing out in retaliation is not a threat that I am willing to take lightly. As Master Yoda said, you and your brothers are our responsibility. I would not see you harmed for having the courage to stand up against him."
That's—difficult to argue with, as much as Rex wants to. Especially because he doesn't need it pointed out to him that having to adjust to a new captain as well as a new general—potentially, hopefully—will not do his men any favors. There's no reason to put himself more at risk than necessary, not now that he knows that the Jedi aren't going to have him court-martialed or sent back to Kamino or any of the other things that a part of him had feared. Rex is no stranger to Anakin Skywalker's anger, and he's not naïve enough to think that he could bear the brunt of it alone if he learned of Rex's betrayal. Not without heavy consequences. Still: "I won't be able to take a protective detail into the field, sir."
"We understand that, Captain," General Billaba responds, not unkindly. She exchanges a glance with General Windu and then folds her fingers together in her lap, almost eerily similar to the way he does. Interesting. "However, it is the time that you will be spending on Coruscant that we are presently concerned with."
"We understand as well that you will likely be in the company of your vode while you're here," General Ti adds. It must be storming pretty heavily on Kamino, from the way the hologram flickers. "And so I presume a large detail would be unnecessary, and if anything, more likely to be in the way than to be of help."
"Yes, sir."
"A Temple Guard might be too noticeable," General Gallia muses. "We don't want to draw undue attention to the situation—or Captain Rex—either."
"One of Master Yaddle’s, then," General Windu decides. He gives Rex a small smile, ignoring his growing confusion. "I will contact her to arrange things. Whenever you're ready to leave the Temple, your detail will meet you at the main entrance." He bows his head a little, a gesture then repeated by the rest of the Council. "We will be in touch, Captain Rex. In the meantime, take care, and may the Force be with you."
Rex nods his head in return. "And with you."
The only thing Obi-Wan wants to do right now is barricade himself in his quarters so that he can comb through every document he can get his hands on going as far back as the start of the war until he finds what he's missed unimpeded, and he knows that's exactly what he's going to do if left to his own devices. He also knows that obsessing over the situation will serve no-one, so he takes himself down to an old friend's door instead.
Quinlan answers with only two knocks and a gentle nudge in the Force, regarding Obi-Wan with bleary eyes and scratching at his stomach. "Obes? Time's it, man?"
Obi-Wan watches with a fair amount of amusement as his friend yawns so hard his jaw cracks. "It's nearly eight-thirty. Did I wake you?"
Quin shrugs, yawning again as he steps aside to let Obi-Wan pass by into the apartment. Obi-Wan's enough of a fixture in this space that he knows to head over to 'his' spot on the sofa without needing to be prompted while Quin makes for the kitchenette, presumably to start a pot of caf. Obi-Wan might just take some without complaint, the way this morning's gone. "Not many shadows to snoop around in in the daylight, Obes."
"I suppose I take your point." Obi-Wan watches his friend putter around in the kitchen, already feeling somewhat more settled for his presence but under no illusion that the feeling will last. Sooner rather than later, he will have to face whatever Anakin has done. "I'm sorry that I woke you, then."
"Don't be." Obi-Wan hears the percolator kick on and then Quinlan's making his way over to join him in the living area, plopping down on the sofa. He leaves his arm over the back of it, letting Obi-Wan decide how much contact he wants right now. "I'm glad you did. You look like shit, man."
It startles a snort out of him, which presumably had been the intent. "Flatterer," he teases, before sobering with a quiet sigh. He leans back against Quinlan's arm and closes his eyes. "I fear," he admits, "that Anakin has done something horrible. Or perhaps, very many ugly little things. I don't have any particulars, yet."
Quinlan chews on that for a moment. Obi-Wan's friend can be impulsive, but he's always been good at knowing when Obi-Wan needs him not to be. "If you don't know what it is, how can you know that it's so bad? Slips happen, Obi-Wan. Force knows you've helped me back up after enough of them."
Obi-Wan swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. "I had what I thought was a nightmare last night. I had to watch them drag him away—the Temple Guard. As he is now but also as a boy. I couldn't interfere, even as he begged for me to save him. I knew he'd done—something. Something horrid, something Dark. I'm beginning to wonder now if the Force wasn't testing my resolve, or reminding me that I must adhere to my duty, even if it's hard. Especially if it's hard."
"What happened to change your mind?"
Obi-Wan breathes in carefully. In for four, hold four seven, out for eight. "Anakin's captain had a meeting with the Council this morning. He was…there with evidence against him. I recused myself immediately, of course, so I don't know the details, but…"
"It's a hell of a coincidence," Quin agrees. He drags a hand down his face. "Alright. Okay. I'm calling the others. You're not gonna deal with this alone, however it shakes out. Okay?"
There will always be a part of Obi-Wan, he's sure, that recoils at the idea of other people having to go out of their way for him. But one of the Force's many lessons for him is and has been to accept help where it is offered. He's still learning, but today he knows. "Thank you, Quinlan," he says instead of arguing the point, and receives a gentle kiss on the forehead in reward.
Obi-Wan sends a text comm off to his commander while Quinlan calls around to whichever of their closest friends are on planet right now.
He doesn't think Rex should be alone, either.
He feels Garen and Siri's absence like a physical thing—Garen deployed in the Mid Rim, and Siri one with the Force for a few years, now—but it's impossible not to be grateful for what he does have, squeezed in close between Bant and Luminara while Quinlan fiddles with the holoscreen.
Rex steps out of the Council chambers and immediately finds himself wrestled into an always-familiar headlock. His first instinct is to dig his heels in, but he already knows that it's Cody who's got him, and he knows that Cody won't hesitate to take them both to the floor if he resists—even in the Temple. Cody's probably more comfortable here than any other vod Rex knows except for maybe Ponds, just because General Windu is needed on Triple-Zero more than Kenobi.
He's big enough to admit to himself that he's glad for his ori'vod's company, anyway, no matter how obnoxious he is. Cody tucks Rex up under his arm like an errand piece of kit once he lets himself go lax, marching him in the rough direction of the exit.
"What are you doing here?"
"Scraping your shebs up off the marble, obviously. What does it look like I'm doing?"
"How'd you know I was here?" Rex hadn't wanted to tell anyone what he was planning, not even his closest brothers. He didn't want them to worry, or worse, risk them being seen as complicit if things went tits-up. He didn't want to ruin Cody's camaraderie with his Jedi, either.
"Kenobi messaged me, told me you might need support. Given that you're paler than a propaganda poster, I'd say he was right."
Rex blinks, stunned. "Oh," he says, softer than he means to. "He tell you what I did?"
"No. Come on, idiot, move your feet. You can tell me yourself once we've gotten you fed and calmed the fuck down."
"I'm supposed to meet—"
"I know that, too."
Kenobi hadn't even been there, at that point of the meeting. "How?"
"Do you think I only have one informant under this roof, Rex'ika? Be serious."
Rex snorts softly but doesn't bother responding, leaning into Cody's side and letting himself soak in the warmth instead. It's done—he did what he set out to do. An investigation still needs to be done, and he has no idea what the end result of that will be yet, but he's done his duty by his brothers and it's out of his hands, now. There's a relief to be found in that, even if it's not quite enough to combat the apprehension entirely. He tries to focus on that.
It takes Cody much less time to navigate the two of them out of the Temple than it had taken Rex to find his way earlier. Rex almost thinks for a moment that they'll have to wait for his new Jedi bodyguard—it hasn't been very long at all since General Windu decided to assign him a personal shadow, especially not for them to have to figure out the details of that assignment—but sure enough, a woman steps out of the shadow of one of the massive pillars as soon as their boots clear the first step.
He's never actually seen a Jedi in regular civilian clothes, he realizes. Spacers' get-up, formal wear, or career utilities for undercover missions, sure, but nothing like this. His bodyguard looks primed to disappear into the traffic of the Coruscanti concourses entirely, right down to the way that her hair is styled just like many of the natborn girls that like to stake out 79's for Rex's junior officers.
"Captain Rex?"
"That's me."
The Jedi nods once, and to his surprise, holds out an arm to clasp in greeting rather than offering a bow. "You can call me Taria," she says. "Did they explain to you how this works?"
Straight down to business. It's not what he's used to from the Jedi, largely, Rex can appreciate it. This morning has felt like it's lasted a tenday, and he doesn't know if he has it in him to navigate through the prevarication right now. "They did not. I suspect they thought it best to leave the particulars up to whoever received the assignment."
The Jedi—Taria—hums. "If I do my job correctly, you won't know I'm here—but neither will anyone else. That's the point, or else they would've just assigned you a guardian or a Temple Guard." She folds her arms across her chest. "I will, however, be staying close for as long as you are on Coruscant's surface. Should something happen, I will be able to respond immediately."
Rex doesn't want to imply that he has doubts about her capabilities, but… "Did they brief you on who the threat is?"
Taria smiles. It reminds him of an aiwha, or a brawler anticipating a good fight. It's an expression he's seen on both his brothers and some of the more rough-and-tumble Jedi he's served with. "Raw power does not a victor make," the shadow replies, and it sounds so much like something Kenobi would say that it almost throws him for a loop.
Well. You can take the Jedi out of the Order but not the Order out of the Jedi, or whatever the expression is.
True to her word, Rex's Jedi bodyguard vanishes into the crowd as soon as he and Cody decide to head out—prompted by Rex's stomach choosing to remind him that he'd missed firstmeal. Even with his heightened situational awareness he struggles to maintain visual contact for more than a couple seconds, but he guesses that the Jedi's shadow corps wouldn't have stayed a secret for very long if they weren't good at what they did. It makes him uneasy, knowing that someone he can't see has eyes on him, but he tries to remember that she's here to protect him.
He expects some questioning from Cody once the Jedi leaves, one of his patented microexpressions at least, but nothing comes. Not yet, at least; Rex has little doubt that that'll change once they're no longer in public. He might've said food first, earlier, but Cody hates not having all of the information and Rex has doubts on how long his patience will hold out.
For now, he lets Cody hustle him down the concourse. They end up in Fox's office—about what he'd expected. It's more secure than the barracks and quieter than either of the Venators even with both of them on skeleton crews, and Cody never misses an opportunity to harass the oldest vod of his batch anyway. What Rex isn't expecting is Ponds, talking to Fox about some Senate goings-on that Rex has no context for (and doesn't care to, frankly) as he unpacks a stack of flimsifoam to-go boxes. They look nearly identical to the ones Cody always seems to come back from Dex's with, but nothing he's ever encountered from the diner has smelled this spicy or aromatic.
Cody all but drops Rex into one of the chairs situated in front of Fox's desk (a luxury the CG commander only has, as far as Rex knows, because PlanetSec had entirely dumped their Senate responsibilities on the Guard and it had inadvertently left their natborn commander's office up for grabs) while the other two vode finish up their conversation, and then one of the takeout boxes is being shoved into his hands, followed by a set of flimsiplast cutlery.
"It's curry," Ponds explains, answering a question Rex hadn't asked over the sound of Fox and Cody bickering over one of the containers. "Master Windu's former student is Chalactan. She insists that lineage dinners happen outside of the Temple so that no-one can talk about work stuff and we usually go to this curry place. I thought that sounded better for midmeal than Cody's kids meals."
Rex doesn't know what a 'kids meal' is or why the kriff Ponds is attending his Jedi's family dinners, but he doesn't get a chance to ask about either (not that he wants any answers). Cody puts whatever banthashit he's currently on with Fox on hold to whirl on Ponds, pointing an aggressive finger that's made lesser men shit their pants. "You take that back, shabuir."
Ponds bats his finger away. "Shut up. What are you even arguing with Fox'ika about, di'kut? I got everyone the same fucking thing because I know you were going to be annoying about it otherwise."
Cody blinks at Ponds like he's the idiot, here. "Because I want his. Obviously."
Rex tucks into the food in his hands while his ori'vode continue to bicker, watching them idly like a boloball match his favorite team isn't playing in and letting the sound wash over him. It's comforting, in a way. Maybe not a particularly well-adjusted way, but Kamino had hardly given them a whole lot of those and he supposes he should take what he can get. At some point Cody and Fox end up rolling around on the floor and Ponds takes the opportunity to extricate himself—stealing the container the other two had been fighting over in the first place while he does it. Rex snorts and Ponds grins, claiming the other open chair and starting in on his own meal.
No-one speaks again until everyone's finished eating, Fox and Cody included. Rex almost forgets that his brother is waiting for an explanation, but of course he's reminded when Cody tosses his trash in Fox's waste bin and immediately turns to pin Rex with a raised eyebrow. It draws Fox and Ponds's attention to him, too, and Rex groans and slides lower in his chair despite the phantom smack on the back of his head from Alpha-17 for slouching.
"Alright, Rex'ika, out with it. What happened that Kenobi thought you were going to need support and the jetiise thought you needed a bodyguard?"
Ponds and Fox are suddenly sitting up much straighter, like strill on a scent. Ponds mostly looks concerned, his brows drawing together and up in the center, but Fox's eyes narrow. Rex isn't actually sure what to make of his expression; knowing Fox, it's equal odds whether it's suspicion that Rex has gotten himself in trouble doing something dumb or calculating his ability to disappear whatever—or whoever—is posing a threat to him. He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face so that he doesn't have to look directly at any of them. "I reported General Skywalker to the Jedi Council."
"You what?"
Rex bristles at Fox's tone, more ready to defend his actions than he might've expected given how uncertain he himself was just a matter of hours ago. "His incompetence and lack of responsibility was getting my men killed. Our brothers."
Fox lofts an eyebrow, and it makes Rex want to bare his teeth. The adrenaline is only mostly out of his system, maybe he should burn the rest of it off making sure Fox has been staying sharp in his dirt-side posting. "So? Then you handle it. Yourself—quietly. What you don't do is put a fucking target on your back pointing fingers at stars-damned natborns! Especially Jedi, Rex, what the kriff were you thinking? They could have you fucking decomm'ed and they wouldn't even need a reason! We're not people to anyone that isn't a brother, not to any of them."
Outrage crosses both Cody and Ponds's faces, but Ponds is the one that gets words out first. Probably for the best; Cody would probably just end up brawling with him again. "I'm sorry that that's been your experience, and your men's experience," he says, sincere and kind but firm, "and we will be having a follow-up discussion on that, because it sounds like things have been happening here that shouldn't be." Fox's expression twists into a scowl but Rex knows that conversation will be happening whether Fox wants it to or not; they may be of equivalent rank, but Ponds and his general oversee the entire GAR's logistics including manpower and that gives him the positional authority, here. "But the Jedi aren't like that. I wouldn't have helped Rex set up that meeting if I thought for a second they were."
"Every group has their Slicks," Cody points out before Fox can use Skywalker as evidence to argue Ponds's point. He seems to have decided to follow Ponds's lead; his tone stays reasonable, even if he doesn't look particularly happy about it. He turns to Rex, then, pained, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder tightly. "But I'm sorry we didn't see it, vod'ika. We should have been paying closer attention. I've known that Skywalker—"
"Knowing someone is an idiot isn't the same as knowing that they're actively dangerous," Rex cuts him off, laying one of his hands over-top of Cody's on his shoulder and squeezing back. "I told the Council that I didn't think Kenobi reasonably could have known the extent of it. That applies to you, too."
The smile that Cody gives him in response to that is small and more than a little wry, but it's there. He ducks down and knocks his forehead against Rex's, a grounding hand gripping the back of his neck (and only shaking him a little bit). "You did good, vod. I'm proud of you. Whatever happens from here, you have our support."
Rex lets out what feels like his first truly deep breath since getting out of his bunk this morning, relaxing into his brother's hold.
"That's it. Udesii." Cody rests their temples against one another. "I have the watch."
Despite his reputation for being a hardass (largely unearned, in Mace's opinion, though he's found that that is often the way of things), Mace does not actually enjoy having to hand down discipline. It is occasionally necessary, actions must sometimes have consequences, but in his experience anyone that truly enjoys doling out those consequences has largely missed the point of them. The Jedi do not practice castigation for castigation's sake, what matters is the lesson learned.
As much as it pains them, however, some wrongs are a little too serious to be absolved through a particularly pertinent assignment or additional time spent in meditation.
The ache that had bloomed behind Mace's eyes over the course of their meeting with Captain Rex earlier in the week has not yet abated. He has been in contact with Healer Che about it as he's supposed to and they've taken what steps were available to mitigate the migraine but unfortunately there is little for it until a decision is made regarding Skywalker and this most recent shatterpoint surrounding the boy either shatters or settles. Regardless, Mace suspects that there is a Force-dampening room in his near future and it would be dishonest to say that he isn't looking forward to the relief.
He puts it out of his mind as he settles into his seat in the Council chambers. It's far from the first time that he's fulfilled his duties as a part of this body with a migraine, and he's certain it won't be the last.
With the appearance of Kit and Shaak's holograms, calling in from Kamino and Manaan respectively, the full Council is now in attendance. Well, nearly so. Obi-Wan's absence is keenly felt, as it always is when they are missing any of their number, but he was right to remove himself from the investigation of his former padawan and any considerations that came of it. Mace would have done the same if were Depa that was standing accused. They are Jedi, and he has no doubt that either of them would conduct themselves accordingly, but there would be little reason to subject oneself to that temptation (or any resultant decisions to the inevitable scrutiny) when there are eleven other councilors for a reason.
On a more personal level, Obi-Wan is also Mace's dear friend. This entire process will be hard enough on him without having to have a direct hand in it, and Mace is grateful that they can at least spare him this.
Padawan Montalvo leads Skywalker into the Council chambers once he arrives, catching his master's eyes and then respectfully bowing out once he receives whatever instruction Ki-Adi sends down their training bond. Left standing alone in the center of the chamber, Skywalker appears agitated; perhaps even annoyed at the summons. Mace exchanges a glance with Yoda, seated to his right. Yoda's ears droop ever-so-slightly.
It is certainly not what Mace would consider an ideal start to these proceedings.
"Where's Obi-Wan?" The young knight demands, apparently electing to forgo the traditional courtesies. "He's been blowing me off for days, I thought that was why you called me here. Did something happen to him? Why wasn't I told if he was—"
Master Yoda's gimmer stick strikes the stone floor, a sharp sound that would immediately silence near any Temple-raised Jedi. Including even one that came to them late; Skywalker's mouth snaps shut, even if he looks mutinous about it. "Hale, Master Kenobi is. Safe, inside this Temple, is he. Hrm. Recused himself from this matter, he has chosen to. About him, this meeting is not."
"Obi-Wan would never just ignore me if he didn't have a reason. Or maybe someone made him." Skywalker's eyes narrow. "What is this about, Masters?"
"Whom young Obi-Wan chooses to spend his time with is his own business, and would not be monitored or regulated without—significant—justification." Master Rancisis's voices comes stern, clearly meant to signal his intent to move past this subject and quickly and expecting to be heeded. "As Master Yoda has already explained, we are not here to discuss Master Kenobi."
The young knight's nostrils flare, but Mace picks up the thread before he can speak or work himself up further. Despite everything, some part of him has been holding out hope that there was—some explanation, perhaps, or a fixable issue at the root of the problem—despite knowing full well that things of this caliber were rarely ever so simple as sending someone on a meditation retreat or placing them back under the regular guidance of a mentor. Skywalker's behavior now is doing little to encourage that hope and much to remind Mace of the rather concerning pattern of conduct they've spent the last days piecing together. "There have been serious allegations made against you, which this Council has since been investigating. You are here to hear those charges and give your side of the story. You will also be given an opportunity to collect and present any evidence of your own that you might have."
Skywalker straightens to his full height, storm clouds rolling across his presence in the Force. "Accusations? By who?" he demands.
Master Gallia meets his gaze levelly, unmoved. "The identity of the whistleblower is being kept anonymous for their protection," she informs him calmly.
Skywalker scoffs. The air in the chamber begins to turn electric, charged, as though it is a physical storm brewing rather than a metaphysical one. The hair on Mace's arms begins to stand on end, but it will take far more than this display to intimidate anyone in this room. One does not attain the rank of Master or receive a seat on the Council by being impressed by a knight throwing their weight around, purported Chosen One or not.
Mace does have to wonder, however, if Captain Rex has had to weather similar storms. If Padawan Tano has. They will have to be thorough in determining the scope of the damage and careful in trying to repair it.
"This is all banthashit," Skywalker replies with an ugly little laugh. "I'll bet there is no whistleblower. None of you have ever trusted me. I bet that's why you sent Obi-Wan away, so that he couldn't speak for me!"
"Anakin Skywalker, you stand accused of failing to keep the oaths you took as a Jedi Knight," Mace informs him gravely, each word paining him to say. "Of routinely neglecting, forsaking, or else falling short of your duties to the men under your command, the padawan in your care, this Order, and the Force itself. Over the course of our investigation, this Council has identified too many instances where your reckless actions or refusal to follow direct orders or Jedi protocol have caused unnecessary suffering and loss of life, and it has become clear that it is past time for intervention. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"
"We are at war," Skywalker snaps, eyes flashing—although, thank the Force, not gold. Not yet. "I do what I have to to win. I am not afraid of what has to be done to ensure victory. That's why the Republic says I'm a war hero!"
"Agree with that sentiment, I wonder, if your troopers would." Master Yoda shakes his head sadly. "Nothing else in your defense, you have to say?"
The only answer is rolling thunder and the burning smell of ozone across the boy's Force presence, and Mace's heart sinks. It's almost enough to distract from the slow trickle of blood from his nose as the shatterpoint splinters, blinding.
Cody goes with him, this time, when Rex is called back before the Jedi Council.
Rex has also settled a fair amount, in the meantime. He's a lot less apprehensive now than he'd been—there is no small amount of uncertainty ahead of them, it remains to be seen what will ultimately come of the Council's investigation and what that outcome will mean for his brothers, and potentially Rex's relationship with his brothers—but he's already breathing easier knowing that if his worst fears were going to come true they would have already. The Jedi certainly wouldn't have wasted the time and resources to assign him a bodyguard if they were planning on shipping him back to Kamino or throwing him to the mercy of a GAR court martial.
He guesses that it's still possible that the Council will find in Skywalker's favor, or else decide that he can't be spared from the front lines regardless, but in that case—well. Rex had been willing to take that punishment before if it kept his brothers safe. He's just as willing now.
Kenobi arrives at the Council chambers at nearly the same time that Rex and Cody do, accompanied by another Jedi that Rex only sort of recognizes. General—Vos? Something like that. Kenobi and Cody nod at each other once in greeting (Rex is pretty sure that Cody's been keeping tabs on his general this entire time even though he's been with Rex for most of it, either texting him or snooping via his other Temple contacts but probably both), and it looks like Kenobi wants to say something to Rex, but…Rex can't quite meet his eyes, and so the Jedi lets it go with a quiet sigh. The other Jedi reaches over minutely to squeeze Kenobi's elbow gently and Rex pretends not to see it.
The Council chambers are more or less unchanged since the last time that Rex stepped through the heavy doors leading into them, save for the empty chair where Kenobi had sat and the exact arrangement of which Jedi are on-world and which are attending via holo. The four of them come to stand in the center, though not quite together, and Cody and Rex repeat the gesture after watching Kenobi and Vos offer a bow to the assembled Councilors.
"Masters," Kenobi rasps in greeting once he straightens. His hands, Rex notes, remain firmly tucked up within his sleeves, and it's hard to miss the stress lines graven around his eyes. It's far from the unshakable mask that he's used to seeing, enough that it sits uncomfortably in his chest.
"Master Kenobi," General Windu returns, something almost gentle in his tone for all that it sounds entirely professional to Rex's ears. "Captain Rex, Commander." He offers Rex a nod, and a small smile for Cody. Rex forgets sometimes that Cody had started off under General Windu at the start of the war; their familiarity always manages to catch him off guard a little.
General Windu is also, Rex can't help but notice, wearing some form of blindfold. Medical grade, it seems like, simple but effective. No-one else seems alarmed by it, though, so Rex decides that it's none of his business.
"I presume that the Council's investigation regarding Anakin has concluded?" Kenobi's voice is smooth, but it's betrayed by the tense line of his shoulders. He must already have some idea of what they've found, that or he's fearing the worst. Not for the first time, Rex tries to imagine how he would take it if their situations were reversed, and it was Fives or Echo or any of his other vod'ike being brought before a tribunal. Not well, probably, especially not if it blindsided him.
"It has," General Ti confirms. Kenobi must hear whatever confirmation he needed in the way that she says it, because his next exhale is ever so slightly out of rhythm. "Our findings are concurrent with Captain Rex's allegations. I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."
It takes Rex a moment to process what he's hearing, and what it means. He'd been certain of the evidence he brought forward, but—some part of him had still had doubts that the Jedi would see the same things that he did, or reach the same conclusions. He can't quite believe that they had.
"Obes, man, what are you doing?" Vos hisses under his breath, pulling Rex from his reverie. He looks over just in time to see Kenobi shaking the other Jedi's hand off of his arm and stepping forward before the Council, front and center and—
Kneeling.
Kenobi lowers himself down to one knee and then drops his head further, until his chin rests against his chest and his eyes would be on the floor if they were open. All eyes are on him, now, varying amounts of shock and—grief? Some anger, in Vos's case, but Rex suspects that it isn't at Kenobi so much as for him. "I submit myself to the Council and its judgement."
"Obi-Wan—"
More than one Councilor looks poised to interrupt him, but Kenobi presses on anyway.
"Anakin was my student. I should have been able to recognize his faults and address them, and perhaps I am culpable for those faults in the first place. Training him was my responsibility; I must have failed him."
General Yoda's cane makes contact with the stone floor with a sharp sound that almost manages to startle Rex, although not nearly as much as what Kenobi just did. Rex is still staring at the side of the Jedi's head, unable to stop. "His own choices, Anakin Skywalker is capable of making. An adequate foundation, provided him with, you have. The knowledge to choose correctly, has it, he does. His agency, you will not deny him. Hear me, you do?"
Kenobi visibly swallows and nods slightly, but he doesn't rise yet. "Yes, Master."
"Stand, Master Kenobi. There will be no punishment today." Master Ti's gaze shifts back over to Rex and Cody. "I hope you understand, gentlemen. The Jedi do not practice punitive justice; it is our belief that punishment rather than addressing the root cause of an issue creates more problems than it solves."
Rex's tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth, so Cody responds instead. "So what are you planning to do about Skywalker?"
"First and foremost, he will be removed from the line and any and all chains of command pursuant to the war," General Windu answers. "And then he will be placed under the care of a mindhealer. From there, any decisions regarding next steps for him will be made collaboratively by that mindhealer and this Council."
"And what will happen to the 501st?"
"That is the difficulty," General Rancisis sighs. This is only Rex's second time seeing him in person; to his understanding, the older master is more often than not posted at Republic High Command as the Jedi's liaison. "The Jedi Order is already spread quite thin, as you might have noticed. There are few generals that could be reassigned, and virtually none that would be qualified to handle the 501st's mission sets, letting alone doing so while aiding you in repairing any damage that Knight Skywalker might have wrought."
"I've been thinking about that," Cody says, because of course he has, Rex has no idea why he's surprised. He really shouldn't be; Cody has a chronic need to be in everybody's business all of the time but especially when there's a problem to solve, doubly so if it's a logistical one. It's part of what makes him such a good marshal commander, and a really good ori'vod even if it also makes him an incredibly obnoxious one. Still, Rex can't be too annoyed in this case. Cody may very well be the one with the best scope on this problem.
"I was hoping you might," General Windu chuckles. "What have you got for us, Commander?"
Cody glances over to meet Kenobi's gaze, something deeply apologetic in his eyes, and Rex watches as some sort of understanding passes between them. Kenobi looks infinitely more exhausted at whatever it is but he nods his assent anyway. They both know that Cody wouldn't ask more of them than he thought they could give, especially not if he thought there were other options.
"I think that, as a stop-gap measure, Captain Rex, Commander Appo, and myself should form a command coalition under General Kenobi. One general directly overseeing two entire units isn't ideal, but General Kenobi is already familiar with the 501st which will likely make for a smoother integration, and a more formal shared command team would allow for more a sustainable distribution of the load as well as effective planning and communications without the 212th, Torrent, and the rest of the 501st having to completely integrate or be posted alongside each other. It would however be my recommendation that the crew compliment of the Resolute be held as the reserve force of the three whenever possible in the interest of giving them time to adequately recuperate."
"You may be correct that this would be the best plan for now, even if it isn't ideal or likely sustainable in the long term," General Mundi cedes. "It would, however, leave your brothers without Jedi support on the battlefield more often, as Master Kenobi cannot be in two places at once."
"Commander Appo and his men are used to it," Rex adds, even though he's not sure how he feels about Cody's plan himself. "General Skywalker rarely traveled or fought with the entire legion, mostly just Torrent Company. Large scale offenses and sieges aren't really his style."
"Noted, Captain, thank you." General Ti offers him a small smile and a respectful nod. "Although, perhaps reintegration should be one of our goals for the 501st's recovery."
"Maybe," Rex allows. He's pretty sure Appo's guys like things the way they are, actually.
"This arrangement would also make the coming transition easier on Ahsoka, I believe, as it would allow her to keep serving alongside the men she's already bonded with while continuing her education under her grandmaster. Assuming that the 501st and Master Kenobi are both comfortable with that."
Rex watches Kenobi stare at General Koon, clearly surprised. For his own part, Rex shrugs. "'Soka's our vod'ika. She always did her best by us. We'd hate to see her leave or get reassigned for something that wasn't her fault."
It takes Kenobi longer to respond. Rex almost expects him to say no, or to demure in some way, from the way his expression pinches. I must have failed him, he'd said, when they were told that Skywalker had been found guilty (or whatever the Jedi wanted to call it). He's probably surprised that the Council is willing to trust him with another student, or doubting whether they should, if Rex had to hazard a guess, despite General Yoda's assertion that no-one was responsible for Skywalker's actions other than Skywalker himself.
Rex knows…next to nothing about Jedi education, or what makes a good master in their estimation. He's tried to help Ahsoka with her studies where he can, and the kind of training that'll keep her alive in the field where he can't, but that's about the extent of it especially because he has doubts about Skywalker being a good example of the correct Jedi way to do, well, anything. He does know, though, that there are far worse teachers out there than Kenobi. No small few of them had been employed on Kamino, and given how many times he's watched Ahsoka wait until a reasonable time wherever the 212th was posted to ask her grandmaster for help with an assignment rather than her own master, Rex thinks she might even have one now.
Finally, though, Kenobi blows out a breath. "If that is truly the wish of this Council, and of Ahsoka, I would be honored to guide her the rest of the way to her Knighthood or whatever other path she may choose."
The assembled Councilors exchange glances, deliberating, and then General Windu folds his hands in his lap and nods once. "It is decided, then. I don't think I have to tell any of you, but this is an evolving situation. We ask for your flexibility, but also that you tell us if something isn't working so that we can look into other solutions." Even with the blindfold, General Windu manages to pin Kenobi with a Look. "That includes you, Master Kenobi."
Kenobi sighs, for once seeming to decide that he doesn't want to argue. "Very well. Will the combined units be sent back out, then?"
"Not just yet." General Koon isn't physically able to smile, not really, but Rex gets the sense somehow that he would be if he could. He still finds it very funny that one of his most cranky and abrasive brothers (now, anyway—Rex thinks that Wolffe had been much different, once, but his memories from that far back are hazy at best) seems to have been assigned to the Jedi general with the gentlest demeanor. "We cannot spare you all from the front as long as we would like, but for now we have at least reassigned the upcoming Felucia campaign. Take this time to rest and regather. Healing is not a linear or expedient process, but we must take what opportunities we are able to devote ourselves to it."
Obi-Wan reads through the Council's findings and Rex's proofs tucked up securely in his dear friend's arms, his back to Quinlan's chest and Quinlan's chin resting on the top of his head. It's easier to match his breaths, like this, when each one gently displaces him ever-so-slightly and then eases him back down.
He'd chosen not to look at these things earlier, even though they'd have been readily available to him if he'd gone looking. It hadn't been time, yet; he'd been too emotionally raw to absorb any of it in a healthy or conducive manner, and even if he'd allowed one of his loved ones to be there with him while he reviewed it all he doubts he'd have actually accepted their comfort. Giving himself the grace to be able to come to terms with the idea of Anakin breaking his vows before he learned the details of it had been necessary, but now he does need to know them. Wondering will be worse.
Knowing that doesn't make it any easier.
His vision blurs as he reads on but he doesn't let that stop him, absorbing each action the boy he'd raised had taken and each that he had not laid as they are laid out before him in clear, precise language. Rex had tallied estimates of how the 501st's casualties might have differed otherwise, and Obi-Wan selfishly wishes for a moment with a stone in his throat and cold in his veins that he trusted the Captain's figures just a little bit less. The Council had avoided presupposing any sort of motives or specific reasoning for Anakin's behavior, merely laying out the facts and their conclusions as well as their resulting concerns.
Anakin had, apparently, decided to throw out accusations of his own rather than defending himself. Shame curls in Obi-Wan's stomach, sour, because he wishes that he didn't recognize the man his former student has become but he does. How many times has he attempted to talk to Anakin or address his concerns about his behavior or state of mind and been met with anger and defensiveness? How many times has he been disrespectful, hurtful, even, cruel, and Obi-Wan had taken it on the chin and told himself that it was the stress of the war getting to them all, because surely his boy couldn't mean to inflict that pain intentionally? It might be true that Anakin's choices are his own, and that Obi-Wan can't reasonably take all of the culpability for not knowing everything that was happening in Anakin's legion, but that does not mean that he is blameless for refusing to see the way his padawan has changed. Anakin had not even hidden it from him; Obi-Wan just refused to accept the truth of it.
"'M sorry, Obes," Quin murmurs into his hair, pressing a kiss to the back of his head as the arm looped over his middle squeezes a little. He doesn't tell him that it isn't his fault; he knows that Obi-Wan already knows that he believes that and that he'll hear it plenty from everyone else. Obi-Wan lets go of the datapad with one hand to squeeze his arm back in acknowledgment and thanks, and Quin hums quietly. "Adi wants to know if you would be up for some visitors."
"The Council?"
"Probably." Obi-Wan feels his friend shrug against his back. "I'll tell them all to fuck off if you want, though."
Obi-Wan lets out a sound that's half a chuckle and half a sigh, setting aside the 'pad as well as his reading glasses. There is nothing left to glean from the report at this time, and no amount of re-reading will make it resolve itself into something less painful. "I know you would," he says. "Better to go ahead and see what they want, though. It could be important."
Quinlan sighs, as dramatic and aggrieved as he can manage just to earn another huff of amusement from his friend. Presumably he texts Adi back, but Obi-Wan lets himself drift into a sort-of half meditation rather than watching him do it. The Council don't make them wait long, at least not the members that are currently on planet, and soon enough the gaggle of them are making their way into Obi-Wan's apartment.
Obi-Wan shifts to disentangle himself from his créchemate—they are not exactly in the most professional arrangement, at present, sprawled across Obi-Wan's couch and cuddling like younglings—but he is immediately waved off by Depa and doesn't feel up to arguing about it so he settles back down. "Has there been a change?" he asks, because it hasn't really been long enough for that but he also can't think of another reason for them to be here.
"This is a social visit, my friend," Kit assures him with one of his characteristic grins, taking a seat on Obi-Wan's ancient loveseat as Yoda maneuvers himself up onto the armrest by his and Quin's feet and pats his ankle.
Adi shoves a flimsifoam container into his hands before he has a chance to question Kit's answer, and Obi-Wan stares at her blankly even as the smell of hot, fresh roba noodles and red sauce reaches his nose. "Mace told us how to fix them up for you," she says conspiratorially. "Egg yolk mixed into the broth and enough red sauce to kill a hut."
Obi-Wan's mouth is already watering, but he glances over at Mace appraisingly before he tucks into his food. "Shouldn't you be at the healers'?" he questions, noticing that the other master is still wearing his blindfold. That the headache caused by this situation had been severe enough to bring the blindfold out was not something Obi-Wan found particularly comforting.
"Believe me, that will be my next stop," Mace replies wryly, but his presence in the Force is all warmth when he brushes a touch against Obi-Wan's shields. "I had a friend to check on, first."
Obi-Wan's eyes sting, just a little, immeasurably grateful for the care of his fellow Jedi. There had been a time, after Qui-Gon's death and in the beginnings of Anakin's apprenticeship, where Obi-Wan had made excuses to himself for not leaning on his family. Perhaps he had done a disservice to Anakin as well as himself in that, in not demonstrating through his actions that they had an entire Order there to support them if only they allowed them to. Obi-Wan knows better, now; or rather, he is actively trying to learn.
As such, he takes the time to properly consider his answer. He owes them the respect of the truth. "I am…hurting. For myself, for seeing my student stray so far from the things I tried to teach him, and for the beings he's hurt in doing so, but also for him. I worry for him. I am wary and uncertain of the future and what it might hold for all of us, and how this might change things. And, to be honest, I have doubts. I understand that we lack better options regarding the leadership of the 501st but I fear whether I will be able to meet their needs, or if they'll ever be able to fully trust me the way they'll need to since I'm the one that trained their former general. And on that note, I—" Obi-Wan stops and sighs. "I know you all think otherwise, but I still don't know if I believe that I ought to be taking another student. I am afraid that I will fail Ahsoka, either by repeating the mistakes I made with her master or by trying so hard to avoid them."
Giving voice to all of it feels akin to lancing a wound, and it lets Obi-Wan relax enough to take the chopsticks Adi offers and start in on his food while he waits for the others to decide how to respond. In any case, he will be glad for their counsel.
"I haven't even spoken to her since we received Rex's report," he admits, shamefully.
"A wise Jedi once told me that a lack of failure has never been a prerequisite to service, else none of us would be here," Depa murmurs, oh-so-rudely throwing his own words back in his face. Even more egregiously, she means them, and they work—pulling further at that first string to unraveling the snarl in his chest. He glares, knowing that she can feel his thanks. "We all have faith in you, even if you aren't able to have it in yourself right now."
"Little 'Soka has been in my care these last days," Plo adds before Obi-Wan can put together the words to properly convey his gratitude for them all. "She has not been alone while she worked towards processing the situation, and she understands that you yourself have not been in a place to provide the support she needs. Were that not the case, there is no doubt in my mind that nothing could have kept you from her side." Plo rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly, mindful of his claws. "Ahsoka was given a choice just as you were. If you are willing, she would like you to continue her training."
"Can't say I blame her," Quinlan teases, giving him a welcome respite from the emotion building in his chest that is—while increasingly positive—heavy and threatening to overwhelm. "You're pretty annoying sometimes but everyone knows you're wizard with a lightsaber. I bet she's going to harass you endlessly for jar'kai lessons, just you wait."
Obi-Wan can't help but think, just for a moment, that that sounds—nice. Really, really nice.
He's missed teaching.
Cody had offered to stay with him when Rex told him that he'd arranged for his men to gather in the Resolute's main hangar bay. Rex needs to brief them all, besides the bare minimum he's sent out in comms, and they all deserve to hear it from him in person even if the idea of it threatens to have his anxiety rising again. He'd thought about taking Cody up on that offer because his ori'vod's support sounds real nice right now, but ultimately he decides against it. The 501st need him to appear strong, to be strong, with the loss of their general and hanging onto Cody's tac belt like a cadet hardly sends the message of being prepared and able to lead them on his own.
Cody understands, of course. He leaves Rex at the entrance of the space port where the venators get docked with a squeeze of the shoulder and an affectionate headbutt that's almost gentle.
It's easier to slip into Captain Rex's boots without vode around that have ever known him as Rex'ika, anyway. Rex steels his spine, straightens his shoulders, and makes for the ship.
Early as he is, he's not expecting any of the men to have arrived yet. Maybe it shouldn't be a surprise then that he's ambushed by the closest thing he has to a command team as soon as his boots hit the deck. Little shits.
"Echo said your memos have been dodgy as hell," Fives says without preamble, falling into step with him as Echo, Jesse, and Kix fall in behind them and Hardcase on his other side, effectively boxing him in so they can herd them wherever it is they apparently want to go. Rex rolls his eyes.
"You said that," Echo grumbles, and is blithely ignored by his batchmate.
"Why have your memos been dodgy, Rexter? What's going on? If I knew all it took to was getting you sick to net us the motherload of all shore leaves—"
"Don't call me that," Rex growls to Fives' unrepentant face at the same time as Kix snaps "Not fucking funny,". Rex pinches the bridge of his nose. The annoyance is actually helping beat back the anxiety and that annoys Rex even more. "We're being assigned a new general. The Council needed time to figure out who."
"What?"
"Not here." The rest of the men will find out soon enough, but not like this. Sensing how serious he is, Fives doesn't argue, jerking out a nod and leading the group of them to the officers' rec room that's slowly become more and more Torrent's base of operations. The natborns on the ship avoid any areas of the ship where the Vode might be like the plague and most of the junior troopers are afraid enough that they'll change their minds that they avoid it too. Rex doesn't have an office the way Cody does—that room on the Resolute full of droid parts and Skywalker's engineering projects—but there's more room for them all in there anyway.
Rex's customary spot is the sofa cushion the most directly in front of the holoscreen, the entire thing ratty and older even than some of his trainers on Kamino he's sure but especially worn in the places where it's been asked to support troopers in full kit. Rex sinks into that crease now, propping his bucket on the arm of the sofa next to him.
"You said we're getting a new general?" The twins have settled at one of the tables, Echo seated properly in one of the chairs and Fives sitting on the edge of the tabletop, and Echo frowns over at him now. "Why? Did something happen?"
Rex blows out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You've seen our casualty numbers."
"Yeah? What does that have to do with—"
"Have you seen the 212th's? The 91st's? The Star Corps'?" None of those units consistently run quite the same mission sets as the 501st, but they've all worked similar enough ones for Rex to draw comparisons from. He sighs again. "I wanted to believe that General Skywalker was trying, that he was doing his best to do right by us and that he was just…inexperienced. Most of the Jedi were at the start of the war, and he's…young. I gave him a year to get his feet underneath him and have been trying to help him as much as he'd let me, but—"
"Our numbers haven't gone down."
Rex nods at Kix grimly. If anyone else was going to have seen the same things he did, it would be his senior field medic. Kix is intimately familiar with their casualties and he knows the way things often go for them on the ground because he's there with them. He's also expressed concerns to Rex more than once about their general's absence from the medbay when they have wounded, something Rex had noticed for himself when he was laid up after the blue shadow virus debacle on Naboo. "I also collected evidence over the course of that year just in case. I presented it all before the Jedi Council upon our arrival to Coruscant."
Five pairs of wide eyes stare at him, stunned silent. For a handful of seconds, at any rate. Silence never lasts long with this crowd, not unless a mission absolutely requires it. "Holy kriff," Hardcase whistles out.
Rex resists the urge to bristle, just a little bit. "I did what I thought I had to to protect our brothers," he defends.
"Damn right," Fives declares. When he Rex stares at him, he gives him a wry grin. "Fuck that guy. I never cared much for how he treated you anyway. It never felt like he actually respected you as his second, not the way he should have."
"We'll stand behind you, Rex. Whatever happens next." Jesse touches two fingers to his temple in a facsimile of a salute. "Wish you'd told us first, though. We coulda found a real nice airlock for the shabuir."
"Probably why he didn't," Kix points out, only to be soundly ignored.
"So what's the plan?" The gears in Echo's heads are clearly already turning, if the expression on his face is anything to go by.
So Rex fills them in, the weight on his chest lightening more and more as he does so and as they start contributing their own ideas. It leaves him feeling much more solid ahead of the briefing with the rest of their men; relaxed enough to sling one of his gloves at Fives's head when the trooper makes smart comment about how he certainly wouldn't mind following General Kenobi into battle—complete with an obnoxious eyebrow waggle.
The briefing itself goes as well as could be expected, too. Overwhelmingly the response from the junior-most troopers seems to be—surprise and hurt. Many of them had…hero-worshiped Skywalker, almost. Rex had done his best to shield his men from the worst of their C.O., bearing the brunt of his temper and carelessness so that they wouldn't have to, and as a result all that most of them saw was the larger-than-life Hero With No Fear, the cool general that wasn't much older than they were and would laugh and joke around with them and then go and do wizard stuff on the battlefield. A part of Rex had feared that, because of that, they wouldn't—believe him, maybe. Wouldn't want to see the truth about Skywalker and think that he was making it all up, or something.
He should have known better, though. The first thing every vod learns is to trust their brothers. There are a lot of things he'll never forgive Skywalker for, but breaking his vod'ike's faith when they are already given so little sits near the top of that list.
They get a little bit of it back, he thinks, when 'Soka shows up with General Plo towards the end of the scheduled briefing. She looks a little bit nervous, understandably unsure of her welcome when she steps into the hangar, but Rex hadn't been lying when he told the Council that she was still their sister and that they wanted her to stay. He tugs her into a gentle keldabe once she's close enough—mindful of her montrals, even if she isn't always—and smiles as he ushers her over to take his spot once it's clear that she wants to address everyone. The smile she gives him in return is a little bit shaky but grateful, and he squeezes her elbow before stepping back a step.
"My master failed you all." Ahsoka swallows but keeps pushing, taking a slow breath in and then releasing it until her voice comes out even when she speaks again. "I didn't know, and I'm sorry. But I—I don't have to. I'm going to work hard and learn everything I can so that I don't repeat his mistakes. I want to be the commander you deserve, and I truly believe that with Master Kenobi and the other Jedi to guide me, I can do that. But I—want to learn from you all, too. So—let's work together now, okay?"
"Oya!" Rex bellows, the call echoed by the entire hangar until the durasteel walls practically vibrate with it.