Disclaimer: Jaing, and other mentioned characters besides Ahsoka and Rex are the works of Karen Traviss. Ahsoka and Rex are Geaorge Lucas/Dave Filoni.

Through the Eyes of Lieutenant Jaing

Jaing tipped his helmeted head up towards the sun slightly. He couldn't feel the warmth in the climate controlled bodysuit, of course, but being able to tilt his face towards the sun was nice. It was a rare moment—between espionage and traitor-plans—and he was going to enjoy it.

Coruscant was a bustling city, alive in its own right. Of all the worlds he had been to, the Republic's capital made it into his list of most interesting. From the upper class to the Underworld, with species of every type, there were plenty of places and people for a Mando-clone to get into trouble.

He wasn't looking for trouble, though; not today; maybe tomorrow.Today he was just sitting, and tilting his face back, and enjoying a few minutes in the sun.

The people moving around him were a background buzz. Not of any particular interest to him, but for a man born a warrior it was habit to constantly be aware of them. It was his distant awareness that caught the tail end bit of a sentence, "…men say it all the time."

A youngling's voice, holding more question than statement. Men, and Jaing flicked his surround-camera on, searching for the source of the voice. The word itself wasn't out of the ordinary, but they were right near the base, and the clone soldiers were men.

"Yes, sir, but you are neither a trooper nor an adult." Now that voice was familiar. It was the same voice Jaing heard from himself. The same voice he heard from his five brothers.

There, he pinpointed them. He was right—of course he was. A Togrutan youngling was moving through the crowd with a clone. His words had been exasperated, if vaguely amused, and his expression echoed that. Cropped-close blonde hair glinted in the sun, and though he was in soft uniform, the man walked with that familiar swagger of someone used to compensating for the weight of a kama. A captain, probably.

Jaing's lips curled up—he saw that same swagger on Ordo often enough.

The Togruta was terribly small in comparison to the clone. Sunset-ruddy skin and midnight-indigo montrals were interspersed with white. Her outfit was that of a huntress, no doubt reminiscent of her Shili-predator heritage, but on her lanky, young body it seemed a half-parsec out of place.

Dark lips were pursed in a considering pout. "I'm older than all of you."

"By barely three years." The captain's voice was gently admonishing, but the look he slanted her was loud with laughter.

Her lips curled in an answering grin.

That was when they finally cut through the crowd, and Jaing was able to see the two lightsabers clipped at her waist. He wasn't surprised, not really. Why else would a captain be calling a youngling 'sir?' But it was still followed by a muted trickled of intrigue.

He hadn't yet seen a Jedi with two lightsabers. Jusik worked with one. Zey worked with one. Even the revered "Chosen One" and his faithful master Kenobi each welded one. It was, Jaing thought, a silent commendation to her skill that she would carry two of the weapon.

The rest of him, the Skirata-raised, Kamino-born little boy curled away from the Jedi, lip curling in disdain. Age and skill didn't matter when you were tearing the galaxy apart for your own gain while carelessly sacrificing the lives of men.

Men born and raised for death in battle, but ordered by the precious Council, and used with little argument.

The youngling stopped suddenly, body tense with predator alertness. The captain stopped barely a nanosecond after her. Interesting, for the captain to be so tuned into her, their relationship almost surely had to go beyond that of commander and subordinate.

"Commander?"

She tipped her head to the side, blue eyes flicking around the plaza they were walking through. Quickly, but not searchingly. She wasseeking, a huntress locked onto her prey. Osik, Jaing cursed his slip of self-control. Of course the little Jedi would've felt his animosity. And, though it was darkly amusing and gave him some sick satisfaction, he didn't blame her for going on the defensive. It showed she was smart.

Her arms were loose, hands by her weapons, but not touching them. Prepared, but not looking for a fight, either. The captain echoed her readiness, fingers of one hand quickly brushing against the wrist of his other. He has a blade there, but he was without his blasters. For whatever reason, the captain was supposed to be inconspicuous. Not my business.

"An odd feeling, Rexster." The youngling's gaze moved past him, then back. Jaing didn't bother to hide, or run. He simply straightened where he was sitting, rolling that word over in his mind; Rexster. So, the Jedi-child had given the captain a nickname.

Jaing wondered if she knew that some clones were insulted by changes to their name; after all, names were one of the only three things a clone owned. The captain didn't seem insulted. Rather, he seemed to straighten with pride, seemed to act towards the Jedi-child with masked affection that wasn't supposed to be between a Jedi commander and her clone captain.

She started towards him with a purpose, the captain moving with her. In tandem, a team flowed seamlessly together. Interesting.

She stopped in front of him. Jaing studied her more closely. Her stance wasn't confrontational, more curious and wary. She seemed even younger so near, but there was a tired, aged shadow in her eyes. War-worn. He recognized it enough from his own reflection.

"Trooper," her voice was firm, no longer the friendly-teasing tone she'd been using with the captain, but the one of command.

He tipped his head so she was looking directly into the visor. It would be considered insubordinate for a lieutenant to remain sitting the presence of a CO, especially a Jedi. And his silence was more insulting than anything else. But he didn't take orders from little Jedi or their captains.

The captain stiffened, wholly understanding the depth of his snub to the tiny commander. He didn't say anything, though, letting the Jedi lead.

An uneasy silence settled over the three of them. The youngling's mouth was slightly open as she searched for her words. Finally, she settled on, "Do you think you'd be able to answer a question for me?"

Jaing couldn't immediately stifle his flare of surprise, and from the small twitch of her lips she knew it. Clever little chakaar. "Depends on the question." He kept his voice low and insolent. It didn't seem to much bother the youngling.

"My friend and I," so his guess was correct—the captain was being kept unknown for some reason, "are having a disagreement about some words. He refuses," she slid the captain a playful glare, and he answered with a look of steadfast righteousness, "to translate some for me, and I think you may be able to help."

Jaing was mildly annoyed to find his interest peaked. "Not all clones are trained in the same languages," di'kutla Jedi would know this if they bothered to know about their troops.

The Jedi-child was nodding, though, "Yes, I know, but these words seem to be common among all the men." She didn't seem bothered by the fact that he'd outed the captain identity, either, but of course she expected a clone to know a clone.

Ah, Mando'a. Odd, Jaing thought, that she'd want to know the language of the clones, of the Jedi-killer they were made from. He wasn't sure how that fit into his perception of Jedi. "What are the words?"

She spoke slowly, carefully forming her lips around words that were no doubt foreign on her tongue. "Shab, osik, di'kut, hut'uun," she paused, pulling more from memory, "chakaar, mir'sheb, or'dinii, shabuir, and laandur."

Her pronunciation wasn't bad, and Jaing couldn't help the small swell of amusement when the captain's face fell into something like exasperated resignation. It was the last word that caught his attention, though. Laandur, delicate—and insult to Mandalorian women.

It was a small moment of wonder at who had called this curious Jedi-child delicate. Because while she looked fragile, there was an edge in her movements, a razor-sharpness in her eyes that showed she was much more than appearances.

"Shab doesn't have an exact Basic translation," it did but he figured the captain wouldn't appreciate the youngling knowing it, "it's more of an expletive of frustration." She was nodding, eyes wide with interest and rapt attention. "Osik is shit; di'kut, idiot; hut'uun, coward; chakaar, thief; mir'sheb, smartass; or'dinii, fool; shabuir is similar to jerk, but more extreme; and laandur means delicate."

Her lips puckered in a concentrated frown as she repeated what he'd said under her breath, no doubt storing it to memory. "Delicate?" She turned to the captain briefly, seeking something. Whatever it was, it made something like anger flare in her blue eyes. I thought Jedi didn't get angry, but Jaing had seen Jusik angry, and he'd seen Etain angry.

"In the culture of that language—"

"It's the Mandalorian culture, right?" Suddenly she wasn't a Jedi commander, but an ignorant child searching for answers and desperately hoping she's got it right.

Jaing nodded slowly, once. "Yes." Odd, that she'd know that, that she'd bother to care. She returned his nod, waiting eagerly to hear whatever other bits of knowledge he was willing to offer. "In the Mando culture, calling a woman delicate means you don't think her battle-ready or capable of protecting her family."

The anger flared again and the captain stepped closer than was military regulation. Again, Jaing wondered who had called her that; it was becoming clear she was as ferocious as she was tiny.

She nodded again, somewhat absently, and put a hand on his shoulder. Jaing tensed under her touch, but she only murmured, "Thank you, trooper," and wandered away, continuing to wherever she'd been headed.

The captain gave him a considering look before turning to follow.

Jaing watched them slowly disappear back into the bustling crowd. He knew Etain, and he knew Jusik, and Zey. None of them were so bad—Zey was the worst of the three—but none of them were like that little Jedi-child either.

The body language of her and captain showed a closeness beyond what the GAR allowed, and probably the Jedi, too. Her acceptance of his insults—well, maybe she hadn't known he was insulting her, but something told him she had. She had known and simply ignored it. Maybe because he wasn't her man, maybe because she could sense trying to force her authority would have turned an odd situation to a bad one. Eager for his knowledge, willing and wanting to learn, and not attempting to correct, prove that she knew more or she knew better.

Odd, for a Jedi.

Maybe it was because she was so young. The Jedi hadn't been able to corrupt her yet, to turn her into someone with a disgusting superiority complex. Maybe it had something to do with that closeness to the captain.

The captain she'd given a childish nickname to. The reminder twitched his lips upwards.

Jaing reclined again, tipping his head back and enjoying the sun's warmth that he couldn't feel.

###

It was a few years later when news broke of the rogue Jedi. It was that same youngling, but what caught his attention was her trial, the betrayal of what seemed to be her friend, and her departure from the Order. And the fact that she was the Padawan of the "Chosen One." Captain Rex of the famous 501st and Commander Ahsoka Tano.

He'd heard of them. They'd cropped up sometimes in reports or research he'd done. The two of them together were considered a high efficient team. That was all going to change, though.

Jaing could see, even during the trial, in her body and in her eyes that her mind had been made. She was leaving.

Something dark was coming; the Jedi betrayal was barely the beginning.

Jaing sighed and switched off HNN. Across the room Mereel murmured a distracted question. He answered quietly, moving to make a pot of caf.

Some small, distant part of him, full of warm sunshine and a child's curious questions, was glad she was escaping.

Oh, wow, it has been a while.

I really like this one, though. The Nulls have always interested me. I hope he wasn't too OOC; I know the Skirata clan isn't particularly fond of Jedi haha

Let me know what you guys think!

Read, review.

Kisses!