The Lie (Captain Rex)

(I) - Hauntings

Tomorrow is another day.

Was it, really?

You turned over in your bed as you thought of that cruel, untouchable thing from which your mind cringed away--the past. Your past. Staring at the frosty ceiling of the tent, memories swam behind your eyes. And in the deepest, most remote part of your mind, you recalled your earliest days. Details ranging beyond the most obvious of extremities escaped your grasp; rather, you recalled large, sunken eyes regarding you dispassionately. White, glowing surfaces everywhere. A bright light, a sharp stab of pain; your childish cries.

You shook awake to some odd snuffling sound, torn out of your reverie. Rubbing your eyes, you stumbled out of your bed and carefully picked your way over sleeping clones to the sound. As you rounded a corner into another section of the tent, two large, teary eyes gleamed back at you. "Ahs- Commander Tano?" you murmured in surprise, crouching over her with concern. "Are you- is everything okay, sir?"

A long moment passed. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and you watched as her expression visibly straightened out. You sank to the floor beside her and put a tentative arm around her. She drew a long, weary breath, not meeting your gaze, and sniffled again. "I'm fine. Just worried about-" her voice broke, and she looked away.

"Commander, you can tell me, I swear. I only want to help you," you murmured in an attempt to comfort her. "I just need to know what the problem is, can you do that?" She nodded vaguely.

"I received word from- I received a transmission earlier this night," she blurted out. She spoke quickly, the words tumbling out, as if she were afraid that they'd stop. "An- General Skywalker and a few others were dispatched into a ravine on this planet to scout for secret separatist encampments. They were- supposed to-," her voice broke, and she let out a silent sob that was just a breath.

Slowly she turned to gaze at you, and her eyes crinkled with grief, the tears spilling over again. Without thinking you hugged her tightly, and her arms drew around you as she buried her face in your shoulder. You could feel her quivering. "They were supposed to come back," she whispered shakily into your shoulder. "They were supposed to make it out alive."

The implications of this dawned on you, and you felt a chill settle deep in your bones. But you had to stay strong for her, so you pushed back the horror. "I'm so sorry," you breathed back. "Ahsoka, I am so sorry."

You stayed in that position for long, long moments, letting the sobs wrack her body and trying to muffle it in the hug. Sometimes it felt that, if there were two minds to suffer the grief, it would bolster them and be divided somehow. But you were wrong. Grief was infinite; it was indivisible, a neverending void. To share the weight was like trying to divide the stars of the night sky. Even after years went by, the grief and fear and pain never left, not really. It just went dormant. Still you carried on. We all do.

Minutes ticked by. Some far-off section of tent flapped in the wind. The lantern above creaked on its chains. Breaths froze on the air. The sobbing was punctuated by distant snores of the sleeping soldiers. Finally, you let go and separated, ignoring the fact that it felt like letting go of a lifeline. You couldn't let the grief spread to you. You had to stay strong because Ahsoka deserved the privilege of being weak in this moment.

Finally she seemed to come to her lucid senses. Those large, sincere eyes regarded you blearily for endless moments interspersed only with her rubbing the tears away from them. She laid a slight hand on your shoulder. "Thank you, soldier." Ahsoka spoke with a graveness so out of place in a child of her age that one could only assume was produced from youth raised on a battlefield. "What's your name?"

You placed a hand on her wrist, feeling the cold lines of her bones. "I am Padawan Moonildt. Y/N. At your service, Commander Tano." Something dawned in her eyes as you spoke the name.

"Moonildt? You seem- no, feel- familiar to me somehow." Her gaze drifted away from yours as she put a thoughtful hand on her chin. "When did you join the Jedi Order, Y/N?"

You paused, taken off-guard by the question. "Well, ah. It's- it was a while ago, I'm sure I can't remember..."

"Don't dodge the question."
"Three years ago," you replied curtly. "I'm three years into training."

Her voice took on a considering tone. "And you seem to be embarrassed by this," she murmured. Ahsoka turned to meet your gaze with gentle eyes. "Don't be. Don't be ashamed of what you can't control. You can't help time, Y/N. I'm not much experienced myself, actually--normally I look up to my friend Bariss for these things. But I've found that, um," she said, looking down at the snowy ground, "it's the heart that makes a Jedi's strength, not their power. I guess."

"He's probably okay, you know," you blurted out, then immediately regretted it because it'd force her to think of him again. "He's late for missions often, isn't he? He normally makes it out."

A crease formed between her brows. You felt the chilly air dig into your flesh. "I- don't do that, Y/N. Don't give me hope."

"Hope saves worlds, Commander. You know what I've found, growing up?" you said. She started, as though to interrupt you, then settled back again. You drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Hope isn't the possibility of a solution, not in of itself. It's not that sliver of a chance of survival that presents itself in epic fables or heroic tales. People say they hope, then get their hopes crushed, and that's why they never hope again. But- but hope doesn't control you. Hope is what you think is possible; it's whether you think there's a way out or not. That's why it's a feeling, not an object. You control the hope. People stop believing because they're afraid of getting their dreams crushed; but their mistake is that they pin their dreams to that fear in the first place."

She blinked a few times, taken aback. You quickly added, "I- I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's not your fault. It doesn't depend on you, not this time. At least I don't think so."

Promptly she rose, and you did, too. "Thanks again, kiddo." You faced her and saluted. "I really- I needed that."

"Anytime, Commander," you responded. "I don't suppose I was going to get any sleep tonight regardless."