(lately, I've had half a mind to write something light-hearted, with Rex as sort of the Long-Suffering Narrator, but, uh. This is not that. Rex is a bit of a new voice for me, so I was a bit hesitant to post, but I find very little fic dealing with the end of the Clone War, esp. the Outer Rim Sieges, so I had to fill the gap. Title is from Eliot's The Hollow Men, obvs, and not mine.)

[remember us – if at all – not as lost]

[but only as the hollow men]

"I thought," Jesse's staticky voice cut through the unpleasant sound of a hundred plus boots sludging through wet dirt, "that Sluis Van was supposed to be mostly rock."

Rex refused to pause, pulling his ankle determinedly out of an unexpected pool of muck and pressing forward. Lush trees obscured their path, left creeping shadows across the helmets of his men, though the foliage was getting lighter as they gained altitude. He could see the General, a few metres in front of them, clearing a path for them as best he could with his lightsaber. They'd been marching since early morning, before the planet's first light, and he had yet to waver.

"It's rocky near the shipyards," he conceded, squinting at the path ahead of them, the almost rhythmic swinging of the blue light oddly comforting. A bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck. "But we're at least twenty-five kilometres south of them. Not all planets are topographically uniform." He ignored the muffled snort at what he assumed was his correct usage of the word 'topographically'. "Weren't you holding the back of the line, ARC Trooper?"

"Kix told me to ask you to ask the General if we're going to be stopping anytime soon. Says we didn't stop long enough last night, or the night before, and there's more than a couple of men about ready to sleepwalk into a tree, and that if we want to make it to the shipyards in good shape – "

"Why doesn't Kix want to ask me to ask – why doesn't Kix come talk to the General himself and save you and me the trouble?"

"He's making the rounds, said it would be more efficient. He's trying to maintain the chain of command."

"Trying to avoid being snapped at, more like," Rex muttered, with little heat. He couldn't exactly blame him. They'd been on Sluis Van for nearly a week. Unable to breach the planetary defense system conventionally, they'd managed to damage a section of it enough to break through and landed in the southernmost portion of the planet's main continent, far off course from where they'd intended. They'd been slogging through the wilderness for days, trying to reach the shipyards they were supposed to be retaking, all too aware that their presence had gone far from unnoticed.

There'd been no enemy movements as of yet, but it was only a matter of time, and it certainly made for tense hiking. And Kix was likely right – lately the 501st had been flung from one planet, one engagement, to the next, the Outer Rim under constant siege as the war breathed its last breaths. What he hoped were its last breaths, anyway. Or at least – thought he hoped. It was a hard thing to think about, the end of a war. When it was the only thing you'd ever known. When it was all you were good for. Well. In any case, the thought of any downtime was laughable, given the pressure they were under, but there'd been little of it enough that their efficiency was sure to be lacking. And their numbers were lesser now, the entire company still spooked by that disaster on Ringo Vinda, the loss of Commander Tano before that, and –

He watched the General's tightly clenched shoulders as he felled a veiny-looking shrub, blue flashing against the dark lushness of the forest. Sighed. The pressure wasn't only on them.

"C'mon, Captain. You're in charge and he likes you best, maybe he won't snap." Even Jesse's voice was falsely cheerful, tight with something they would all be hard-pressed to acknowledge. The back of his head twinged. A phantom ache.

"General Skywalker doesn't play favourites. And he doesn't snap, either." An outright lie, bless the man, but Rex was nothing if not loyal. "I should have spoken more carefully. He's a good man."

Jesse shrugged, the white of his shoulder armour glinting in a patch of murky sunlight struggling past the tree canopy. "Even good men snap sometimes. Especially when they're tired. He's had as little sleep as the rest of us. Less, even."

Rex frowned.

"You've noticed."

"Hard not to when you've spent the last three nights trying to sleep through the sound of a miniature laser-saw cutting through durasteel. What's he been doing, anyway?"

Rex quirked his head pointedly, in the direction of the squadron carrying their heavier weapons.

"Built us a laser cannon, I think. Among other things."

Some kind of bird crowed overhead, the sound muffled by the trees, but piercing. Jesse shook his head. "Jedi."

Jedi or not, it wasn't exactly typical. The General worked hard, sometimes through the night, but even Jedi had to catch a nap here and there. Something about it made the back of his neck prickle.

"I'll go talk to him about stopping. Trooper – " Rex paused, considering. Buried ruthlessly the part of him that desperately wished Commander Tano was still there. "Do me a favour. You have any secure lines to the 212th?"

Jesse didn't look at him, but inclined his head in understanding. Good man. "If we get proper communications set up, I might."

"Set them up when we stop. If they're not at the other end of the galaxy, see if you can get word to Kenobi that – "

Loyal to a fault. But it wasn't really going behind a superior's back if no one ever found out about it.

Right.

" – that if he's inclined to be in the neighbourhood, it might be a good thing." Not very elegant, but Rex had never pretended to be any good at subterfuge.

"Understood, sir."

"Good," Rex said, plunging ahead, mud splattering his shins. He turned, briefly. "And, Jesse? Off the record."

Jesse raised his hand in a rough salute, acknowledging. Rex shook off the sour taste of disobedience and increased his pace until he was only a half-step behind the General, the dense, thorny brush making him grateful for his armour, despite the heat. Either Kenobi would get it, or he wouldn't. He didn't really know how Jedi worked, anyhow; maybe the man could sense without his help when he was needed.

"Sir," he said, fighting to be heard over the thrum of the lightsaber. He dodged a clump of severed tree branches as they came spiralling in his direction. It was certain that they would have had a much harder time trudging through the trees without the General clearing away some of the brush, but up close he could see that the work, while methodical, was perhaps a bit more haphazard than he would normally have given the General credit for. Gratuitous. Rex tried not to make too much a habit of noticing, but it was sometimes hard to deny that Skywalker was not necessarily averse to the slicing and dicing aspects of his work.

Said slicing and dicing stopped, a bit abruptly. The lightsaber deactivated, the General's face turning to him in surprise. Rex's gut curdled. You didn't sneak up on General Skywalker. It usually wasn't even possible.

"Captain," he acknowledged, slowing his pace. He waited a moment as Rex picked his way carefully through some of the underbrush, though his gaze flicked once, twice, back in the direction they were headed.

"Sir," Rex said again, catching his breath. "Wanted to speak to you. About – about stopping for a bit."

The General frowned, crinkled brow pulling at the scar across his eye.

"We're still twenty-five klicks from the shipyards," he pointed out, grimly. "I meant to have us there three days ago, but with the detour – "

Rex fought a grimace. Detour was an awfully kind word for it.

"There's naval reinforcement waiting for us, behind the moon. The longer we take to get there, the more likely it is they'll be discovered and taken out before they can cover us, and we're already behind. And you want to stop?"

"The men, sir. I know we're in a rush, but Kix is worried about exhaustion." Not cruel, just thoughtless. And even that wasn't typical. Skywalker fought with them, walked with them, ate with them; he could be forgiven for once in a while forgetting that they were only men. Even now he was blinking in sudden realization, peering behind Rex at the sea of white struggling through the mud and the trees. His mouth tightened in chagrin. He glanced down and to his right, lips parting as if to voice a question –

– but there was no one there, of course. He looked back to Rex, mouth tight, eyes pained. A bit glassy too, if you knew to look, but Rex didn't yet know what to make of it all.

"There's a clearing up ahead," he said finally. "We can set up camp there. Just for a few hours, alright? Split into shifts and make sure everyone gets some rest. It's probably safer in some ways to make our approach during the night, anyway. Pass the orders down."

He turned back to the task of clearing away the underbrush, lightsaber igniting mid-swing without another word.

Rex swallowed back any additional questions he might have had (he knew exactly how far he could expect to push his luck on a given day, but this was not the moment) and fell back into the sea of mud-spattered white, dispersing the order through the helmeted comm-system. The helmets insulated their owners' speech fairly well, when the comm units were in use, but even still he thought he could hear a murmur of relieved chatter spread throughout the group.

By the time they reached the clearing, the sun was high in the sky, burning down murkily through the humid, musty air. Sluis Van was so heavily industrialized that even its wilderness wasn't entirely free of pollution. Once the air would have also been filled with chatter, speculation, some attempt at lightness, but the past few weeks had been overshadowed by something grim and unsettling. He kept turning, half-expecting Fives at his one side, Commander Tano at his other, trading quips or quiet observations, but there was only empty space and an absent ache at the back of his head, in the hollow of his chest. It was easier to pretend, when they were in motion. Any stillness was only filled with ghosts.

He was beginning to wonder if the General's reluctance to stop was about more than just making good time.

A hand on his back brought him out of his thoughts. Kix had taken off his helmet, was pressing a ration bar into his hand.

"Good job on the rest stop. He listens to you."

Rex frowned. "He listens to all of us."

"Of course," Kix said, kindly but insincerely. He patted Rex on the back again. "Think you could go one further and convince him to take a nap?"

"I think you're asking too much, brother."

His lips twitched, conceding. "You might be right." But his eyebrows remained slightly raised.

It was a manipulative, beseeching expression that Rex wouldn't have begun to know how to make, even if they did technically have the same face, but that didn't mean it wasn't effective. He shook his head, resigned.

"Where is he?"

Kix glanced to the edge of the clearing.

"Nearer to the trees, getting chewed out by high command. Visual quality's bad out here, but they didn't sound happy."

Rex cursed, low in his throat. The same bird call he'd heard earlier echoed through the clearing. "We're not moving fast enough. If we don't retake this planet – "

" – then we'll retake the next. And the next. Until we're done."

Until we're done. And then what, he wondered. Not out loud. Never out loud.

"Get the men rested," he said, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Leave the General to me."

Kix nodded, left in the direction of the tents. Rex swallowed a sigh and headed toward the tree-line, spotting the General's silhouette, half-hidden by a thicket of brambles. The crackling blue outline of a hologram flickered like a candle about to go out, setting odd shadows against the tangle of brush, the low rumble of voices muffled by the thickness of the air. He waited a moment to approach, until the flickering blue extinguished itself and the General's comm-unit closed with an echoing snap.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, catching sight of the General's face, anger carved into his face like stone. The expression softened, but only into something more bleak.

"Don't be sorry, Rex," he said. "You're right. We'll get there when we get there, but not at your expense. Not any of you."

"We're grateful, sir."

"It's your basic right," he said firmly, sharply. "You shouldn't have to be grateful for it. And you shouldn't have to ask. I'm sorry."

Half the battle of reading the General was figuring out when his frustration with you was really frustration with himself, or the situation. Rex had served long enough, listened long enough, to understand that. And he'd been at the mercy of men who would sooner shoot a clone in the face than apologize to one.

"It's alright, sir," he said, meaning it. "The situation isn't ideal." It hadn't been ideal for a very long time, it was beginning to feel like.

The General exhaled through his nose, agreeing. "Nothing's ever good enough," he half-muttered, but straightened soon after, eyeing the makeshift camp. "But that's no excuse. Need any help over there?"

"It's all well in hand, sir."

He seemed almost disappointed.

"Plenty of time for you to get some rest, too, sir," Rex suggested, not daring to hope.

"Not tired." Liar, Rex thought, taking in the redness of his eyes, but there was no sluggishness to him, the way he would have expected. In fact he seemed almost painfully alert. Up close you could see the minute trembling of his fingers.

But Rex was no Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he could recognize a losing battle when he saw one.

"Actually," the General continued, "I was thinking of doing a little recon. You tired, Captain?"

Yes. "No," Rex said. "What did you have in mind?"

Skywalker pointed. "See that mountain, above the camp? Think if we get high enough up there we could get a good idea of what's waiting for us around the bend. It's been a little too quiet for my tastes."

"Mine too, sir," Rex agreed, looking up at the mountain with resigned trepidation. The range it was part of was small, but even at its edges it was making the terrain difficult. If they were attacked in such awkward, near-sighted quarters it could easily end badly, even before they reached the shipyard. "Lead on, then. I'll bring my scopes."

The General grinned, all teeth.

"We'll be back before you know it," he promised.

"You forget, I've done recon with you before, sir," Rex pointed out, a tired smile stretching his lips, underneath his helmet. He fell into step at his side regardless. "I know exactly how this ends."

The trees thinned even more as they climbed, the air slightly cooler, slightly sweeter. Well. What little Rex could smell of it from under his helmet. But he could appreciate a good alpine landscape as well as anyone, even when it was alien and a little bit odd. The rocks jutted out at wrong angles, the low-lying shrubs scraggly and disconcerting. But the General had been right – the view was well worth the effort. And it was better than the stillness.

"You can see a long way," he noted. They'd hiked for an hour, winding their way efficiently up the mountain, until they'd hit a small ridge. They'd stopped for what amounted to a rest, sat down facing southwards and eaten a ration bar. It was almost peaceful enough to loosen the tension in his neck.

"Kind of the point," Skywalker pointed out, but he was smiling faintly. "See anything?"

"Lots of movement nearer to the shipyards, but far from our line so far. They must be waiting for us to come to them."

"Makes sense." The General stood, crossing his arms. "I wouldn't want to bring troops into a forest this dense either." He grimaced. "Given a choice."

"Always comes down to choice," Rex muttered, peering into the distance. He sighed. "We'll make it there, sir. At least we know we've got a clear shot through the wilderness."

"If the thickets don't swallow us."

Even the alpine hadn't completely banished the insects, Rex noticed. They seemed fairly harmless, but they travelled in buzzing swarms. They'd encountered a couple on their way up, and he could hear one now, just behind them.

Only –

He didn't have the Force to guide him, but he did have a Jedi.

"Spider droids," the General hissed, grabbing him by the shoulder and launching them both back towards the slightly thicker interior, away from the edge, quicker than he could see. "Coming from the east, we have to – "

"The shrubs won't do it, sir, they can see in infrared – "

"Kriff." The General paused. "You aren't gonna like this. Remember that quarry we passed on the way?"

Rex swallowed back a groan as they tore through the sparse brush, back the way they'd come. "You're right," he breathed, chest heaving, "I don't."

They skidded to a less than graceful halt. A shard of jagged cliff-face jutted out before them, smaller rocks scattered where it met the ground.

"It's not stable," the General said, eyes distant. "There's – there's holes. Right – here."

The buzzing was growing louder.

"Sir – " Rex protested, eyeing the sudden gap in the ground.

"There's no time, we can't let them know we're here – "

"Fine – "

They fell – jumped – together. Rocks and dirt scraped against his helmet, air rushing underneath it and for all that clones were bred to be fairly fearless he still felt his stomach in his throat, legs flailing, the sound of his own muffled shout and the rustle of Skywalker's tunic –

The impact with the ground jarred his teeth, foot twisting underneath him, helmet knocked from his head. The dirt was cold and damp against his face. Sound was muffled, but his ears caught the distant trickle of what sounded like water.

"Underground stream," Skywalker gasped, spitting out a mouthful of dirt. "I thought so. You okay?"

"Ankle," he got out, twisting onto his back and struggling upright, leg throbbing. His hand searched for the walls of the cavern. "Besides that I'm alright. You, sir?" He scooted awkwardly toward the wall, until his back was touching.

"Fine."

His eyes were beginning to adjust, though there wasn't much to make out. A few piles of rocks he was glad to have avoided. A small stream. The cavern extended far longer than it looked from up above, but it narrowed quickly into what looked like an aquifer.

"I have a light, sir. Should I turn it on?"

"Better not to," he advised. Rex heard, more than saw, him lean himself against the wall at his opposite. "We shouldn't risk it. With any luck they'll pass right over us, if they even bother to come this way."

"The rest of the troops – "

"Should be fine. I think the droids are just doing what we're doing. Recon, and not even in the same direction. They were heading west, not south."

Rex settled back against the wall, chest tight.

"I hope you're right."

A beat. Rex tilted his head to look up at the small hole they'd squeezed through, the circle of light alarmingly narrow. Took note of the smoothness of the cavern's walls.

"Sir. When the droids are gone."

"Hmm?"

"How exactly were you planning on getting us out of here?"

In the silence, the trickle of the stream was less calming than it should have been. The General swallowed.

"Uh," he said. "Well. You have any rappelling cable?"

"Nothing for it to grab hold of up there but dirt, sir."

"Jetpack?"

"Didn't need it for bushwhacking, sir. I've got a hand grenade, if that's useful."

"It's not. Comm unit?"

Rex reached for his helmet, tried accessing the comm frequency. Shook his head. "Too far underground. You?"

The General grimaced. "Landed on it."

"Mine might be able to pick up a signal, if anyone gets close enough. Someone will come looking for us eventually."

The General settled back, shoving his arms into his sleeves, face set in a dimly lit scowl. "Eventually could be a long time."

Rex tilted his head back, to look at the small gap of sky in the distance. He wasn't wrong.

"At least we're in one piece. Nothing for it but to wait."

They settled in, silent for what felt like a long time, though it wasn't uncomfortable. Shadows occasionally passed overhead, clouds and the branches of trees and, once, what he thought must have been a spider droid, buzzing past them, unnoticed. For that brief moment it was almost unbearably quiet.

Funny how it was the waiting, not the falling, that felt the most intolerable. On the march, or in the midst of battle, there were always plenty of things to keep your mind occupied. Here, there was barely enough light to see by, and far too many thoughts to fill the darkness. Rex didn't like being still. He didn't think the General did either, fingers tapping almost constantly against cold stone, the rhythm jerky and restless. Clones didn't fidget – or at least, they weren't supposed to. He supposed it was likely that Jedi weren't supposed to either, but couldn't quite picture Kenobi ever rapping his student's knuckles with sheets of duraplastic the way the Kaminoans had with restless clones.

Commander Tano had been a restless one, and he'd never seen the General say anything.

"You okay, Rex?"

His entire leg throbbed dully, but he'd propped the foot up as best he could, and nothing felt broken. And he wasn't afraid of the dark, even if the dimness was disconcerting, even though the creeping shadows occasionally thrown across the wall gave him pause.

"Yes, sir." He paused, resisting the urge to chew on his lip. He wasn't exactly keen on waiting out the rest of the day in silence, either. He sighed. "You ever miss her, sir?"

The General shifted, hands going into his sleeves, face closing off. They didn't – they didn't talk about this sort of thing. But he nodded, jerkily.

"Every day."

"Do you think she's alright?"

"I do." A pause. "I would know if she wasn't."

Rex swallowed uneasily. He would never get used to that sort of thing, said so factually, with such certainty. But he believed it.

"Will she come back, do you think? When the war is over."

Skywalker shifted again. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Rex thought he could see his shoulders shaking, just minutely. His voice didn't waver.

"She didn't leave the war, Rex. She left the Order." His mouth tightened. "I think – I think she'll have to carve her own path, from here."

"Rough galaxy, out there, on your own."

"Are you forgetting who we're talking about? If anyone can handle the rough parts of the galaxy, it's Ahsoka. It's probably the rough parts that should be worried."

That, at least, was probably the truth, and he was grateful for it. A cloud passed overhead, dimming the already murky light from above. It was hard to tell the passage of time, with only that small bit of sky to help judge, but it had been at least a few hours since they'd fallen down the hole. His stomach was beginning to complain, but he didn't want to waste his extra ration bar when it was anyone's guess how long they'd be trapped.

Anyone's guess how long they'd be trapped, but they had a little food, and at least they were near a water source, and it wasn't all that cold, really –

But the General was still shivering.

"Sir," he began to say, neck prickling.

"What about you, Rex?" the General interrupted, teeth gritted not in anger, Rex was beginning to realize, but to keep them from chattering. Kriffing hells. "What will you do, when the war's over?"

Rex paused. Sat back against the wall, though his eyes were still narrowed critically.

"Haven't given it much thought, sir." In fact, he'd been trying his best to avoid thinking about it at all, but admitting that out loud would make it far, far too real. "I suppose – I suppose we're not good for much else, is the only thing."

The General crossed his arms, hands hidden underneath them. Now it was only a stray foot, left to tap restlessly, jerkily, against the soft dirt of the floor. "Yeah," he muttered, glancing up at the sky light. "Think I might know how you feel." He looked back to the ground. "Things are wrapping up, Rex. But there's – there's more to come, first, I think."

Rex nodded, stomach sinking, though none of it was unexpected information. How terrible a person did it make him, to hope for and fear the end of the war in the same breath? How much more would it cost them, before they were done?

And what would become of them after?

"The Outer Rim won't win back itself," he agreed.

"No," Skywalker said, grimacing. "We'll be moving onto somewhere else, after this. And then, maybe – " he trailed off. He shrugged, and it looked like it hurt. "Maul's in the wind. Grievous is moving. We're not sure where, yet, but when we do – "

"That could put an end to all of this."

"Yeah."

What will become of you, after?

"Sir," he tried again.

"Rex," the General shot back, a warning. Now even the dimness couldn't hide the uncontrollable shaking.

Rex sank back against the wall. Tired of this, he thought. You should be tired of this too.

"Last time you slept, sir?" he asked dully, bracing himself for the answer. He shouldn't have liked living in ignorance, but when the truth was so often hard to stomach –

"Uh. Where were we last – Felucia?"

Rex closed his eyes, mouth tightening.

"That's more than a week ago, sir."

The sound of uneven breathing filled the cavern. Once, he would have interpreted the silence as apologetic, but he knew better now. There was silence only because there was nothing to say. And it wasn't his place to accuse, to point out errors of judgement. To ask why they were happening now, when they'd never happened before, not like this.

Not his place.

"Why?" he asked, regardless. He opened his eyes.

"Running out of time," the General muttered in reply, insensibly. He shuddered, shadows from above crossing his face as a tree branch briefly blocked the sun. Swallowed once, harshly. "Bad dreams."

"About what?"

He shook his head. "Not sure."

Rex sank forward, elbows coming to rest on his thighs. The shaking continued. Not lack of sleep alone could cause that.

"Can I do anything, sir?"

Silence as thick and cold as the air.

"Unless you have any stimulants hidden away in that bag of yours, then probably not," he said finally, reluctantly, voice a rasp. The suspicions curdling Rex's stomach solidified.

"Just the hand grenade, sir," he said. "Sorry."

That, apparently, was very funny, but the rasping chuckle that echoed through the cavern was decidedly not.

"In my defense, it does come in handy sometimes," he said, if only to distract himself from the chill at the back of his neck. His foot twinged. Wind howled across the top of the cavern. The unsettling laughter faded.

"I'm s-sorry, Rex," the General said, eyes half-closing.

"Don't be sorry," Rex replied, shifting. "You rest now, sir. I've got water if you need it."

He would need it. Dry mouth, if he was remembering correctly. The General wasn't the first or the only to ever fall afoul of a pack of stimulants. Kix hated the things, said they wreaked havoc on your liver, but even Rex couldn't deny their usefulness. Sometimes sleep just wouldn't do. Only – only it shouldn't had happened. Never had happened, before, even if he was having a hard time pinning down exactly what before entailed.

He wished again for Commander Tano, who would have sooner punched the General in the face than let him run himself into the ground. Who would have been able to put the finger on Rex's fears exactly, better than he himself could, and assuage them in the same breath.

Even before they had been winning, for a while, things had felt right. Brothers at his side, his Jedi to follow, safe in the knowledge that they were in the right, that they would make it out okay. But now, some days, he felt like a stranger in his own head, brothers behind him instead of beside him, the General a wrathful, exhausted shadow to march behind, and no one talked to each other anymore, no one laughed with each other, only thought the same horrible thoughts and buried them deep, the end of the war and their impending uselessness hanging over them, unspoken –

"You worry too much, Rex," the General rasped, not sounding quite awake, and Rex fought the urge to twitch in surprise. Half-lidded blue bored into his forehead, the whites of the General's eyes red and veiny. "Close your eyes. It'll be over soon."

I think that's what I'm afraid of.

"Yes, sir," he said, finally. He leaned his head against the smooth, cold wall and let his eyelids close, focusing on the sound of the little stream, the shuddering breaths of the man across from him. Tried to imagine the warmth of the sun on his face and found that he couldn't. He dozed, he thought. For long enough that his back was beginning to join his foot in their chorus of complaints when he was alert enough to pay attention to it, interrupted by the occasional dissonant gust of wind across the top of the cavern. The General spoke infrequently but insensibly, of nothing that Rex understood and nothing he thought he was likely meant to be privy to.

When it finally felt late enough in the day that Rex was beginning to wonder if they should have another go at trying to rescue themselves, a shadow fell across them both.

"Hello there!" a breathtakingly familiar voice echoed down into the cavernous chamber and Rex caught a glimpse of ruddy beard and cream-coloured robes through the chamber's opening, felt the back of his neck release a tension he hadn't even entirely been aware of. Across from him the General's eyelids flickered open, expression twisting into something caught between irritation and relief. Relief and – embarrassment?

"Rex," he croaked. "You didn't." It was the most coherent he'd sounded for hours.

"Sorry, sir," Rex said, shifting as small shards of rock rained down on them. The small gap of light grew in size. "But you have to admit, if I hadn't we might have been in quite the spot of trouble."

A muffled groan was his only answer, the General's face hidden as his metal arm was thrown hastily, clumsily, over his eyes. To protect them from the shower of rock as it was slowly shifted from the opening, but also from the ever increasing brightness. And, possibly – probably, Rex amended internally – to avoid having to face the arrival of General Kenobi, whose forced cheerfulness Rex knew for a fact was a poor front for what would have been seen as an unbecoming amount of worry. Rex knew his Jedi.

Somehow, it never made dealing with them any easier.

"Down here!" he shouted upwards finally, voice raspier than he'd expected. Whoever was up there – he hoped it was more than just Kenobi, though he supposed the rest of the 501st might have been otherwise engaged, if the Seppies had taken it upon themselves – knew they were down there, but they might not have known they were alive and kicking.

Well. Alive, at least.

"We're sending down ropes," Kenobi called – and the 'we're' meant that he wasn't alone. "We'll have to retrieve you both at the same time, the ground up here is not overly stable. Do you require assistance?"

A loaded question, the end of it touched by a string of tension. Rex couldn't see his face, but he could picture in his mind the way Kenobi's brows drew together when he was worried.

"Rex," General Skywalker rasped before he could answer, face still covered by the crook of his elbow. "Don't want to make a fuss. We can make it on our own, right?"

Don't want to make him worry. Don't want to lose any face. Don't want to admit to any weakness. Which was it? Rex bit his tongue. It could have been all three or it could have been none and it still wouldn't have mattered.

"I've a mangled ankle and you haven't been able to put together an entire sentence for literally hours, but," he muttered, probably not under his breath enough to technically constitute a permissibly polite disapproval, "sure, why not, sir." He gritted his teeth. "We'll manage," he called back up.

The General muttered a thank-you, arm shifting away from his face as he struggled to a sitting position.

Rex braced an arm against the cold stone wall, readying himself to stand. A long cord of rappelling cable came whispering down from the gap of light in the ceiling.

"You can thank me when we're back above ground," he said, picking up his helmet.

"Oh, I will," the General replied, face bone-white as he stumbled to his feet. Extended a shaking hand to Rex, who eyed his swaying silhouette with a tersely drawn mouth. He took the hand and levered himself upwards, teeth gritted as his leg almost gave way underneath him.

"Pardon me, sir, but this is a terrible idea."

"S-see," the General said, grabbing hold of the cable with his metal arm and extending the other in invitation, "now you're just starting to sound like Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan Kenobi, he thought tiredly, releasing any illusion of dignity he might once have had and wrapping his arm around the General's waist, received more of his sympathy every damn day.

"Someone has to, sir," he said, grateful for the huff of laughter he received in return as he wrapped his free hand around the cable. The General tugged on it twice, sharply, and they were airborne, the gap in the ceiling growing closer as the ground drew further away. Rex's stomach bottomed out and he looked determinedly upwards, focusing on the growing light instead of the jagged rocks they were leaving behind, the trembling of the General's hand wrapped desperately around the cable. Daylight had given way to early evening, he noticed as they drew closer, damp, warm air hitting his face. The sound of the local evening bugs grew louder. The day cycle on Sluis Van was shorter than some, but still – they'd been down there for a long time. He blinked rapidly as they breached the surface, hands (less than he'd thought, and he was actually oddly grateful for it) reaching to pull them through the last few metres, and his fingers were scraping across earthy dirt, the sun warming his back.

He was hauled carefully to his feet, into the arms of who he now recognized as Sergeant Appo. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Skywalker wave off the offer of assistance, only to take one step forward and promptly collapse like a sack of shuddering duracrete. General Kenobi didn't even blink. Only sunk tiredly into a crouch, lips moving quietly, the words not meant for Rex's ears. He averted his gaze, not in enough time to miss the tail end of what sounded like a rambling apology, cut off only by the touch of Kenobi's fingers to the General's temple. The shuddering stopped, abruptly. Rex tensed so that he wouldn't shiver. The Jedi were strange, but they didn't always know it. It was kinder that they didn't know it.

General Kenobi met his eyes as he hoisted Skywalker (gently, he noticed) over his shoulder, the weight of the taller man not seeming to bother him. His eyes were kind. A bit sad, maybe.

"How lucky that I was in the neighbourhood," he said quietly, firmly. Rex understood and wished he didn't. You're welcome, he didn't say.

"Very lucky, sir," he said, stomach churning. "I'll be sure to mention that in the report."

Discretion was always the better part of valour, after all, even when it didn't always sit quite right.

"Good man," General Kenobi said, turning slowly in the direction they'd come from. Skywalker's hair glinted in the slow glare of the evening sun, face slack where it rested against Kenobi's back, arms dangling. Rex winced as Appo shifted to better support him and they fell into stumbling step behind them, swallowed up by their long evening shadow. "Come along."

Kenobi's voice was faint, almost lost to the thick, humid air, quiet enough that he might have been talking to himself.

"There's battles to be won yet."

Rex watched the sun begin its slow descent behind the jagged mountains in the distance. It would have almost been peaceful, but as the sky darkened it only made the naval engagement at the edge of the planet's atmosphere more visible, flashes of green and red burning lines across the sky. Smoke from the burning shipyards, kilometres behind them, reached his nose as the wind began to shift. He bowed his head.

"Yes, sir," he said.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought.

(Cross-posted to ao3)