Chapter Text
As it turned out, getting Anakin back to his senses proved to be a much harder task than she suspected any of them had imagined.
“No, no!” She yowled as Anakin broke out of their makeshift pen yet again, bolting back into the grass hissing and spitting. “Master!”
“It’s no use,” Wag sighed. “I’ve seen this with some the vulturine that get sick, they start fighting their flock mates and running around like crazy.”
“Well, can’t you fix him, or something?” Rex huffed, sitting down with a groan as he caught his breath, the mid-day sun shining brightly down on them.
Wag just swished their tail in annoyance.
“I am a healer, not a veterinarian,” the Lurman huffed. “You’ll have to have your people find a cure.”
“Well, first, we have to catch him,” Rex sighed, standing back up as Kix yelled to them from the other side of the village. “At least he’s not hunting you guys.”
Wag twitched their ears nervously.
“Do you think he would?” They asked.
“Anakin wouldn’t do that!” She insisted, but Rex just shrugged.
“He ate that Separatist guy,” the captain pointed out.
“He did not!” Ahsoka cried. “That was the vulturine!”
“Sir, last time I checked vulturine don’t have teeth to leave teeth-marks with,” Rex told her, not unkindly. “Obviously, if anyone asks, we’ll say it was the vulturine, but…”
He just shrugged again.
“How are you so nonchalant about this?!” She demanded to know, to which Rex gave a third shrug.
“Commander, we are almost a week into this mission and I have seen the General die, come back to life, kill six vulturine with his teeth, pounce on a droid and beat it to death with his fists, track down the Separatists by smell, and kill a man, again, with his teeth, all while severely injured, fever-struck, and infected with some sort of alien pathogen. I am honestly numb to it all at this point.”
Ahsoka huffed.
“I guess that makes sense,” she sniffed.
“Can you guys kriffing help me over here?!” Kix shouted, haring out of the tall grass next to them with a chunk of meat in his arms, Anakin appearing a heartbeat later, wild-eyed and literally frothing at the mouth as he chased the medic.
“Go towards the shuttle!” Rex yelled, while Ahsoka bolted towards it.
“Throw me the meat!” She called. Kix visibly hesitated, but Anakin was rapidly gaining ground.
“Now!” She yelled, and Kix threw it to her right as Anakin pounced, driving Kix into the dusty ground with a snarl from him and a loud oomph from the medic.
Ahsoka blanched as she realized that what she was holding was the half-chewed arm of the Separatist general, which probably explained Kix’s hesitation to throw it to her, but she had very little time to actually think about it before her now-feral Master was bounding towards her, hyperfocused on the slab of sentient meat in her arms. She screeched, throwing herself up the shuttle ramp, towards the cells that they had been unsuccessfully trying to gently herd him into for the majority of the morning.
Anakin let out a fearsome noise as she threw the arm at the wall of the cell, her once goofy yet somewhat poised Master falling upon it ravenously, Ahsoka slamming her fist down on panel, activating the cell door before she fell against the wall with a groan.
“Let’s never do that again,” she told Rex as he poked his head in.
“She did it!” Rex called, and four sets of cheers rang out from around the ship. Kix limped on board, collapsing face-down in a heap next to her with a loud, drawn-out groan.
“We were right about his newest Change being super strength,” the medic said, voice muffled by the floor. “He hits like a kriffing wookie. I think I broke a rib.”
“Tell me about it,” Coyote bemoaned, Smoke helping him up the ramp. Ahsoka didn’t know what exactly had happened there, but Coyote didn’t continue, so she wasn’t going to ask.
“Where are General Secura and Commander Bly?” Peregrine asked, poking his head out from the cockpit. “I thought we were all eager to get off this rock.”
Probably making out, Ahsoka thought but didn’t say - it wasn’t her secret to tell.
“Probably making out,” Coyote huffed.
“Coyote!” Smoke cried, turning wide eyes on the other clone.
“What?” Coyote defended. “It’s not like it’s a secret. Hells, even the Commander knows!”
“Hey, what do you mean by that?” She squeaked, outraged. “I’ve known since they started making heart-eyes at each other on the tree!”
“Exactly my point, Commander,” Coyote said.
Rex snickered.
“You’re all so mean to me!” She said. “Anakin’s never this mean to me!”
She gestured at the man in question, only to regret it as he was busy devouring the Separatist’s hand, bones and all.
“Yeah, let’s… let’s turn that off, actually,” Rex said, stepping forwards and turning the barrier opaque, much to everyone’s relief. “Nobody needs to see that.”
“So, what are we going to tell him when he snaps out of it?” Ahsoka asked.
“Nothing!” The group of clones all said at once.
“Absolutely nothing,” Rex repeated. “We tell him none of this. We got incredibly lucky that General Secura and Bly decided to go make out or whatever all morning instead of paying attention to this whole debacle, but we tell nobody any of this, including him.”
Ahsoka nodded, surprised at Rex’s intensity.
He stared at her, his gaze and tone softening.
“Listen, Commander, you know how the General can get, sometimes. He’s all tough and scary when protecting us, but he’s got a good heart, and he tries very hard to fit in with the other Jedi. Knowing that he did this…” Rex trailed off, shaking his head. “It would crush him. Make him doubt himself. Make him afraid of what he might do, might make others afraid of what he might do, and that would just crush him further.”
“I understand,” Ahsoka said softly. “I won’t breathe a word.”
“Won’t breathe a word of what?” Master Secura asked, entering the ship with a brow raised as she stared at them all on the floor, Bly by her side.
Your secret relationship with your clone commander, she thought.
“Well, if I told you, that would just defeat the purpose,” she said instead, crossing her arms petulantly.
Master Secura just shook her head fondly, leaving for the cockpit, Bly still trailing after her.
The shuttle doors slid shut, Ahsoka catching sight of Wag one last time through the shortening crack, and she waved, grinning as they waved back before finally, they were obscured from view.
She slumped back against the wall, letting out a long sigh that was echoed by the clones, until they ended up getting into a sighing contest which only ended when Anakin started throwing himself at the barrier despite it being both opaque and sound-proof, leading to the horrifying thoughts that, one, he had finished eating the Separatist arm; two, he could smell them through the barrier and was still hungry; and three, they were on the menu.
“...I think it’d be best for all of us if we all went to the cockpit,” Smoke said, staring nervously at the barrier even as sympathy softened his gaze. Ahsoka appreciated just how kind and compassionate the clone was, how he was thinking of her Master’s potential distress even as he was actively trying to get at them to hunt and eat them.
“And have to deal with General Secura and Commander Bly making heart eyes at each other?” Coyote asked, his face scrunching up. “No, thanks, I think I’d prefer my chances with General Rabies over there.”
“Watch your tone, Coyote,” Rex growled, but didn’t move to go to the cockpit. “He’s still our General.”
The ‘and our friend’ went unspoken, but still rang loud and clear.
Coyote just rolled his eyes, though he angled his body so that Rex couldn’t see. Based on Rex’s annoyed expression, however, Ahsoka figured he still knew what was going on.
“Okay,” she sighed. “We all agreed not to tell him about any of this. But what are we going to tell everyone else?”
Rex and Kix shared a look, grinning slightly at each other before they turned back to her.
“Don’t worry, Commander,” Rex told her. “We’re experts at this by now.”
“We know just what to do,” Kix added.
“Appo! We need you to concoct an excuse for why the General is feral!”
Ahsoka stared at Kix as the medic prepared an aerosolized tranquilizer, loading it into a smoke bomb of some sort.
“...And why do I have to do that?” Appo questioned, the rest of the posse, plus Echo and Fives (though judging by how they seemed to be following Appo around, she suspected that they, too, were now part of the group) loitering around him.
When they had first landed, Master Secura and Commander Bly had pretty much immediately left to go report to the Council, Ahsoka and Kix lying that Anakin needed some space and quiet, hence why he was in a cell with an opaque barrier, but that he could get out on his own. Master Secura had seemed to believe that, leaving them to their own devices, but not before giving Ahsoka one last proud nod and a “good job, Padawan”.
As soon as she had left, the posse had practically swarmed the ship, Jesse punching Kix in the shoulder for “leaving him behind” and Rex and Appo touching arms. Fives and Echo had bustled in as Smoke and Coyote had helped Peregrine out of the shuttle and towards the MedBay, leaving her alone with the posse and her feral Master.
“...You have to come up with the excuse because you’re the oldest,” Kix was saying. “And you’re the highest-ranking.”
“That’s not fair,” Appo protested. “We all know Rex outranks me in every way that actually matters. And I’m only older than you and Jesse by a few days!”
“Yeah, well, we’ve already delegated the task to you,” Kix huffed. “And you would not believe the absolute hell we’ve been through these last few days, so just kriffing do it.”
Rex stepped forwards, brushing his arm against Appo’s again.
“Please, ori’vod?” Rex asked.
Appo let out a long sigh.
“...Fine,” the clone commander growled, crossing his arms. “But only because Rex asked.”
He looked around.
“Let’s see… you mentioned that you guys were attacked by the planet’s wildlife…” Appo began, tapping his fingers against his crossed arms thoughtfully. “So let’s just say that he’s feral because he got attacked by them and contracted a new, never-seen before disease that’s messing with his brain.”
Echo nodded in approval.
“That makes sense,” the younger clone said. “And it’s hard to disprove.”
“We can’t use that!” Kix snapped, in the process of making a second tranq-bomb.
“And why not?” Appo asked, glaring at the medic.
“Because that’s actually what happened!” Kix snapped, glaring back.
Appo threw his hands up.
“So why do you even need an excuse?!” The clone cried. “Just tell the truth!”
Kix just stared at him blankly.
“Why do we need an excuse?” Rex asked, frowning, eyes narrowed as his head tilted in thought.
“The Commander said we needed one!” Kix answered, all of the clones turning to her.
“What?!” She squeaked. “I did not! I just asked what we were going to tell everyone else! You guys were the ones who said you ‘had it handled’.”
“Hey, hold on, you said the General has some sort of alien virus or something?” Fives interjected, staring nervously at the cell.
“Yes, some sort of unknown pathogen,” Kix huffed, though Ahsoka could sense that he was relieved by the change in subject. “What about it?”
“Well, shouldn’t we be wearing, like, hazmat suits or something?” Fives asked, glancing around at them.
Ahsoka looked to Kix, who just shook his head.
“The pathogen was transmitted via claw-wounds, likely from infected blood of the animal entering the bloodstream via the open wounds,” Kix explained, now working on a third bomb. “As long as we’re not bitten by him, we should be fine.”
“And if we get bitten by him, we’ll have bigger problems anyway,” Jesse pointed out.
“Besides, it’s unlikely that whatever pathogen he has will be able to infect us,” Echo added. “You’ve mentioned that his body temperature is naturally high, and you mentioned that the animals that attacked you seemed to be bird-like, and that type of animal also usually has high body temperatures, too.”
“So?” Fives asked.
“So, the pathogen is likely adapted for high internal body temperatures and wouldn’t be able to survive within our relatively cold bodies,” Echo replied.
“The healer we encountered on-planet had the same opinion,” Kix said with a nod. “I also concur.”
The medic finished with the third bomb and turned to Echo and Fives, handing them one.
“You two, when I say ‘throw’, you throw these into the cell. Appo, you open the cell door the same moment I say throw and close it as soon as the tranq-bombs are in,” Kix began. “Jesse, you crouch down in front of us with your blaster on stun so if he charges at us, you can protect us. Rex, you stand over there so if he makes it past us and goes for the cockpit, you can stop him. Commander, you do the same as Rex, but in front of the doors, there. Everybody understand?”
The group all nodded, moving into position. The sound of blasters being set to stun echoed throughout the enclosed space as Kix, Fives, and Echo lined up, Jesse in a half-crouch in front of them, Appo hovering his palm over the cell panel. She and Rex stood on opposite sides of the area, poised and ready, watching the clones in the center with rapt attention.
“Ready… Now!”
Appo slammed his hand down on the panel, and the cell barrier dissolved, showing Anakin blinking at them in confusion.
“Hey, what- OW!”
The cell barrier went back up, turning opaque once more, but as it did so, they had just enough time to witness the tranq-bomb that Fives had chucked into the cell with all his might hit the now-lucid Anakin right in the eye, the Jedi yelping loudly in pain before the noise cut off as the sound-cancellation activated.
They sat there, silent and still for a moment in shock.
“...Whoops,” Fives said, breaking the spell.
“What- he was fine!” Jesse cried, turning around to stare up at Kix accusingly.
“I didn’t think he’d be better!” Kix defended. “Less than an hour ago he was snarling and growling and eating a Separatist’s arm, I assumed he’d still be like that!”
“It’s true,” Ahsoka confirmed, shuddering at the memory.
“We spent literal hours trying to corral him into the ship,” Rex added. “He was not like this this morning.”
“Well, now he’s unconscious,” Appo pointed out. “So we should probably get him to the MedBay before he wakes up.”
“You two,” Kix growled, pointing at Echo and Fives. “Go grab a hover-stretcher and bring it here. Grab a blanket or two as well - as you saw, he’s shirtless.”
The two nodded, scurrying off to fetch the requested items, leaving her alone with Rex, Appo, Jesse, and Kix, the latter of whom let out a loud sigh and motioned for Appo to deactivate the cell barrier.
‘Did Wag Too mention anything about the disease being temporary?” Kix asked, turning to her as he crouched by Anakin’s now unconscious form. “I had assumed that once the behavioral symptoms hit, the disease would need to be cured, but it seems to have naturally run its course.”
Ahsoka shrugged.
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “All I remember him saying was that it affects some of the vulturine and makes them aggressive towards each other.”
Kix hummed, examining the deep wounds on Anakin’s chest, the bandages having been long ago discarded during their numerous attempts to corral him into the shuttle.
“Well, the infection seems to have abated,” the medic huffed. “But he’s re-opened the wounds. Again.”
Echo and Fives reappeared with the items.
“Come on,” Kix said with a sigh. “Let’s get him down to the Medbay.”
“Again.”
The night was dark, quiet, and still as he awoke, heat washing over him like a wave as he blinked open his sick-stuck eyes, the warmth of the air holding him tight in its oppressive talons. Hunger like a gaping wound clawed at him, throbbing painfully in his gut as he breathed in deep, letting the scents around him wash over him fully.
There were two figures next to him, sleeping soundly, scents warm and full of life.
No, something whispered to him from within his mind. Clan.
He stood, instinct and the need to hunt quieting his motions, something ancient and powerful that he wielded like claws softening his steps as he slunk into the night.
He breathed in another deep breath.
The wind rustled the tall grasses as he blinked slowly, carrying with it the delectable smell of warm things, furry things, things full of life that smelled like prey.
Not them, that same voice whispered. Not prey.
He growled at the voice, but turned away from the direction of the wind anyway.
The world around him was awash in vibrant hues, everything outlined in blue and red, harsh dancing violet tones underlining each shadow. A few heartbeats later, the color faded away, everything becoming washed out and dull, chromality receding like the tides, only for the vibrancy to return moments after that as he continued to stalk through the grass, eagerly snapping up insects that flew too close to him, the color fading and returning over and over in an incessant push and pull. He snapped, too, at the glowing dots that swarmed at the corners of his sight, black and white at the same time, always just out of reach, frustratingly made of nothingness, and eventually he gave up on bugs altogether, too furious at the insubstantial dots and too hungry to waste his efforts on pitiful morsels to continue.
The wind changed directions, blowing from the side, and another scent caught his attention. Another warm, furry thing, this one alone and far from the group he had scented earlier.
No, the same voice whispered, but it was weaker this time, and he ignored it, pressing on, his hunger tightening its hold on him.
He moved silently, each step deliberate as he stalked forwards, his breathing slow and deep as he strained his ears to pick up on the faint tap-tap-tap of his prey’s steps, almost as slow as his.
He halted as the tall grass ended, giving way to a clearing of shorter grass near a tall sapling about four times his height with several strong off-shoots near the top - an easy escape route for his prey.
His eyes shifted to the hobbling form, moon-wide pupils taking in the wiry build, the hunched frame, the long striped tail that swished agitatedly from side to side, the prey completely unaware of his presence as it continued on, its back to him, away from the tree.
If he could get to the tree before it could, he could cut it off, and it would be an easy meal from there, his prey small and weakened by solitude and old age.
He took a slow, deliberate step forwards, then another, stalking under the cover of darkness, the moon low on the horizon and obscured in part by wispy clouds that cast long shadows on the ground, his approach muted by the loud clattering of the reedy grasses as the wind wound through them, his scent hidden by his downwind position.
He was almost to the sapling itself when the prey straightened suddenly, small yet pointed ears shooting upwards, swiveling as its tail stilled and bushed up, its now-wide eyes scanning the area in front of it as it sensed something wrong, the prey subconsciously backing up towards the tree by nature of its arboreal ancestors’ instincts.
He lunged forwards, lightning quick, and the prey screeched in animal alarm as his long and powerful strides ate up the distance between them, it bolting forwards only to quickly realize that he was faster, and it dodged to the side right as he lunged, his swipe narrowly missing the prey’s back, catching the tips of its gray fur as it slipped backwards towards the tree.
He spun, snarling, racing to catch it before it could escape, and he lunged again, teeth snapping down on the side of its tail, the prey crying out in pain, but his grip was flawed and the prey yanked itself out of his grasp with the tearing of fur, scampering up the sapling to huddle atop its shoots, panting and trembling as it pinned its ears against its skull, bushed tail curled up around its body as it stared down at him with terror-filled eyes.
He hissed, furious at himself for missing such an easy catch, hunger howling within him as he paced around the sapling, searching for anyway to still get to the tantalizing prey kept from him by the guarding arms of the cursed plant in front of him.
“What- you-” the creature chittered, the sounds meaning nothing to him as he continued to pace, its eyes landing on his chest and staying there for a long moment.
“...Wag said you were sick with the vulturine plague,” the prey hummed, shuddering. “I see it now. Your wounds…”
He could hear the prey’s thundering heart, could smell the sharp tang of its fear, could almost taste the warm blood it would spill.
“I will not succumb to your animal hunger, Jedi,” the prey spat, and he recognized only that the creature’s fear had manifested into anger, its sharp teeth bared down at him.
He bared his teeth back, growling long and low in threat, in warning, in promise.
“I will not die here, trapped by some bloodthirsty outsider mad with fever!” the prey screeched, lashing its tail, yellow eyes glinting with fury. “I refuse to leave my son an orphan in the face of the conflict that you have caused!”
The prey was silent for a long moment, heaving in rage, before it slumped suddenly, the fight draining out of it as it sank against the sapling’s shoots.
“...Even if it is my own fault,” it muttered. “Is it? Is this my fault?”
It stared up at the moon, slowly rising, full and bright like a mouth of fangs.
“Is this how I perish? Is this some divine punishment? I have followed the code set out by our ancestors, obeyed the rules obeyed by generations before me! Was it not enough?! Did I slip too far by allowing the Jedi to stay at all?!”
It glanced down at him, shoulders suddenly hunched with guilt.
“...Or did I hold too strong?” It murmured. “Is this punishment, not for being too soft, but for not being soft enough?”
He snarled, lunging upwards uselessly as it continued to stare at him.
“I drove you out,” the prey muttered. “I denied you the herbs you needed to fight the sickness. I fought with my own son to keep you away, to keep you sick, to keep you injured. And now you’re here, maddened by the illness I refused to treat, hunting me. Is that it?”
It turned back to the moon.
“Is that it?!” It screeched. “You will take a father away from my son because I did what I was supposed to do?! Because I did not show mercy to a harbinger of death and war?! You will doom me to a predator’s jaws because I did not yield in my morals, in my stance, in my heart?!”
His prey fell silent once more, staring unblinkingly upwards as he paced, occasionally pawing at the bark, checking for holds only to find none time and time again.
The moon edged further into the sky, the night brightening slowly as they sat, predator and prey, each stuck waiting and unable to give up.
“I… am sorry,” the prey eventually said.
He stared up at it, tilting his head at the odd noises it made, the meaning of the words passing over him like mist, or smoke, unable to be wielded or grabbed, hearing instead only the soft sounds of cornered prey.
“I am sorry, not for chasing you out, but that it had to come to this.” The prey sighed. “I am not sorry for holding to what I believe, to what I have been taught. I will never be sorry for that.”
It glanced at him again.
“But for what it is worth, I am sorry that you have been reduced to this.”
The wind shifted. He straightened.
The acrid tang of smoke and burning and something metallic reached him, and he instinctively shied away, only for his instincts to snarl, hissing within his mind prey, prey, prey.
He blinked, tilting his head, scanning the horizon, the moon half way to its peak as he paused, indecisive.
Follow the trail, he knew suddenly. There will be prey there.
His vision was filled with the sight of a large, pale form gurgling between his jaws, the wondrous taste of life surging into his mouth, and he only spared a quick glance up at the scrawny, treed creature lingering just out of reach before shaking his head with a growl, surging off into the grass.
The scent was strong and growing stronger still as he pushed through the sea of grass, tracking the sour stench for what felt like hours, the wind battering around the trail like puffs of pollen, leading him in circles, only for the smell to return with overpowering strength, lending him no clues for which direction to head and stinging his eyes and nose.
Finally, though, the sound of thunder reached his ears.
Except, it wasn’t really thunder. It was a rumble, bone-deep and teeth-chattering, the roar and crackle of flames crying out a moment later as he continued forwards, stalking slowly as his instincts simultaneously called out for him to flee and for him to hunt.
His bottomless hunger drove him onwards.
He emerged once more on the edge of a clearing, the smell of smoke and soot and steel clogging his senses, the roar of a dozen sounds he thought he should understand but didn’t deafening him, and he paused there, frozen for a few long moments, before a snarl from his gut broke the spell, his gaze drawn to a pale shape that seemed to almost shine in the moonlight that now illuminated the clearing from right above their heads.
Everything else faded into the background as he began to creep forwards.
This prey was even more oblivious than the one he had left in the tree, its focus cast entirely on what was ahead of it, none of the other moving not-prey creatures paying attention to him, either.
He crept on, slowly, silently, until he was half of the way there.
Two thirds of the way.
Three quarters.
He paused, almost on top of his prey, it still not noticing his presence as he planned his pounce, how he would clamber up the strange shell it was partially hiding inside.
With a wordless snarl, he leapt, throwing himself up the shell with the desperate ferocity of a starving animal, the prey letting out a blood-curdling ear-piercing scream as it reared backwards, away from him, but in doing so it left its throat exposed, and as quick as lightning he sank his teeth in, half-pulling the prey out of the shell, and it writhed, bleating, thrashing with struggles that grew weaker and weaker, blood filling his mouth-
Anakin gasped awake, his dreams muddled and confusing, rapidly fading away as he blinked, his heart racing, until they were nothing more than faint emotions and disjointed sensations.
The sound of wind through grass. The feeling of bark beneath his hands. The moon above his head.
He shook himself, frowning. It hadn’t felt like a vision, but why would he remember those sensations so clearly? Why did they linger when the rest of his dream faded like cheap paint in a sandstorm?
“Ah, General, you’re awake,” a somewhat-familiar voice chirped. Anakin glanced to his side and saw Echo snapping into a salute, a datapad about zoonotic pathogens hastily tossed onto the chair he had presumably been sitting on.
“Echo,” he rasped, falling into a coughing fit. Echo’s eyes widened, and he seemed torn between breaking his salute and finding him some water or staying as he was.
“What, you’re just going to watch him cough?” Kix asked, materializing from nowhere, handing Anakin a flask from which he drank from eagerly.
“I- I just- he-” Echo stuttered, aura flashing with shame, confusion, and distress.
Anakin shot a glare at Kix.
“It’s fine,” he assured the young vod before turning back to Kix. “There’s no need to yell at him for following the rules.”
Kix just rolled his eyes, drawing his scanner and hovering it over him.
“Well, how do you feel after sleeping for three days?” Kix asked him after a long moment.
Anakin’s eyes widened.
“Three days?!” He echoed.
Kix huffed.
“We had Echo and Fives here to explain it to you if you woke up while I was busy,” Kix said, not answering him. “General Secura and Bly went back to their legion, Peregrine’s made a full recovery and is back on duty, and the Commander has been training with General Kenobi. Oh, he’s here too, by the way.”
Anakin blinked at the medic, taking in the information.
“Uh, okay, why is Obi-Wan here?” He asked.
“Apparently the Jedi have lost contact with a station on Orto Plutonia, and once the Pantorans get their heads out of their asses, you and him are being sent out to investigate with them,” Kix explained. “I told him that would only happen if - and that’s a big if - you were fully healed by time the mission gets officially approved.”
Anakin glanced down at his chest. The wounds were healing well - in fact, all but the deepest scratches had completely healed, leaving only faint claw-shaped scars, and even the deeper ones were almost gone.
Kix just huffed, shaking his head.
“I don’t know what kind of Force magic you have healing you up that quickly, but it, combined with a day in a bacta tank, have really done wonders.”
Anakin nodded slowly, remembering that Echo was there only when the datapad on the chair flickered off.
“Oh, Echo, at ease,” he said, blinking apologetically up at him. “Go on and get some rest, I don’t need to be guarded every time I go unconscious, no matter what these di’kuts tell you.”
He shot a playful glare at Kix, who crossed his arms and raised a brow.
“We literally never know with you, General,” Kix growled. “For all we know, you somehow pissed off some horrid, ancient evil that now seeks to enact its vengeance whatever chance it gets.”
Anakin snorted.
“I have. Her name is Ventress.”
Kix just rolled his eyes.
“Your ongoing rivalry with Sithly assassins is yet another reason why we stand guard,” the medic pointed out.
Anakin huffed.
“Okay, fine, yes, I get into trouble a lot. But we’re on a Jedi cruiser with security that I updated myself, surrounded by vode,” he said. “I think I’ll be fine without one of you hovering over me every waking hour.”
“How else are we going to initiate Echo and Fives into the ‘posse’, as the Commander calls it?” Kix asked.
“You have also started calling it that,” Anakin pointed out, amused. “And why does there need to be an initiation?”
He turned to Echo, who was still standing there, the eyes of the young vod wide and nervous and almost hopeful.
“Hey, Echo, you and Fives are part of the posse now, congrats.”
He turned back to Kix.
“See? Easy. Simple. No need to give me a heart attack upon waking up.”
Echo’s aura was bright with awe and joy, and Anakin gave him a warm but amused smile, gently shooing him away, watching him go with a soft snort.
“You know, Rex said that he saw Echo’s quote ‘sopping wet tooka’ look and knew you’d adore him immediately,” Kix said once Echo was out of the room.
Anakin chucked a pillow at him.
Kix shook his head, though the faintest trace of a smile ghosted his lips.
“Get some sleep, General,” the medic told him sternly, though his aura was a mix of warm, positive hues.
“Wha- I just woke up!” Anakin protested.
“And you’re still injured, so you’re going to go back to sleep so you can go on that mission, whenever it happens,” Kix replied, crossing his arms.
Anakin grumbled under his breath, shooting Kix one last mock-glare as he repositioned himself in the bed.
“Am I going to wake up to one of you looming over me?” He asked.
“...No,” Kix lied.
“...Whatever.”