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CLARA PACED ANAKIN'S ROOM ANGRILY, WISHING IT WOULD JUST BLOW UP INTO PIECES AS SHE WAITED FOR HIS RETURN.

She tried to meditate her stress away, but it just kept consuming her, digging into her chest and settling deep within her core. She was furious with him.

Anakin had promised her he wouldn't tell Palpatine, and he had.

Now if Padme died, he'd blame her, when in reality, it was probably set in stone because he couldn't keep his stupid mouth shut.

She let out a groan of frustration and grabbed something from his shelf, tossing it to the floor.

Perhaps she should feel bad. It was his stuff, after all. But she couldn't bring herself to. If he kept going down this route, it would be destroyed anyway — so who cares?

"Clara?"

Clara's head whipped around, and a scowl landed on her face. "You are a fucking idiot!" She shouted at him, pushing him back when he entered the room in surprise.

"What — what's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?" Clara seethed. "Nothing's wrong with me except for the fact that I'm here in another reality with some fucking purpose I can't understand, magic powers I can't comprehend, and an evil Sith Lord threatening to destroy everything."

Anakin's eyebrows furrowed. "The Sith?" He asked in confusion. "They're gone, Clara. Obi-Wan killed Maul and—"

"God, Anakin, you make me want to bash your head into the wall." She snapped. "How am I ever supposed to trust you now?"

"What?" Anakin asked, frowning. "Clara, if this is about me getting angry with you, I already apologized and—"

"—You told Palpatine about me."

Anakin's mouth closed and he paled, shifting. He was no longer the Jedi Knight, predecessor for Darth Vader. He was a sheepish young man, shuffling on his feet, looking away, nose crinkling up as he grimaced.

"Clara, I had reason to—"

"—I begged you not to," Clara said lowly. "You promised you wouldn't. You promised, Anakin."

"I don't see what the big deal is, I trust Palpatine, and he's the Chancellor, so—"

"—Do you wonder how I know about Padme?" Clara asked in annoyance. "Can you possibly, for one single moment, not think everything is about you?"

It technically was. Oh, God, was it ever. That was the whole point. She was trying to save someone who was determined to trust anyone besides the people he actually could trust.

"Excuse me?" He asked in disbelief, crossing his arms. "Care to repeat that?"

"Yeah!" Clara took a few steps forward, glaring up at him. "You're arrogant and presumptuous and the people that love you are trying to help. But you'd prefer to make stupid decisions that will only bring chaos and havoc and everything else that'll happen when you—"

She stopped herself, seconds before spilling everything to him.

"When I what?" He asked coldly.

"Just — just don't trust Palpatine, Anakin, I don't know how to make you believe me." Clara scoffed and brushed past him in a fury, leaving him behind, even more confused than before.

"Asshole."

—

Captain Rex was an absolute riot.

She'd always liked him in the show, even wanted to get a tattoo of his helmet once she convinced her aunt it wasn't a crime against her body. (As if Aunt May didn't have three "secret" tattoos of her own.)

But in person?

He was hilarious.

Ashoka had dragged her to the 79's Bar on Coruscant, Obi-Wan was chatting quietly with Cody. She even saw Plo Koon with his "Plo Bros".

Her heart ached at the thought. She wouldn't let him die to people he loved and trusted, it wasn't fair.

"...come on, sir, just one more," Rex tried to get Ashoka to drink another Corsucanti Ale. Clara blinked slowly, trying not to succumb to the dizziness she felt from the strong beverage. "Clara's beating you."

"Well...she's no Jedi," Ashoka slurred and took another shot. "WOO!" She exclaimed, exchanging a drunken grin with Clara.

"You ate that," Clara giggled, leaning against Ashoka. "Y'know...your master is a dick," she muttered.

"Tell me about it," Ashoka nodded as Rex chatted with the other clones, their higher metabolism working far better than Ashoka and Clara's. "But...I love him. Anakin's like...my brother. Y'know?"

"D'ya think Obi's hot?" Clara blurted out, watching Obi-Wan's hand around a glass of ale, calmly discussing something with Cody. "He's like...woaaaaah. Hotttt damn."

Ashoka burst into giggles, her leku brushing Clara's skin as she leaned on her shoulder. "Obi-Wan? Noooo, he's our Master. My Master." She hiccuped. "Technically he's your master too—uh oh." Her eyes widened when the door opened and some clones cheered. "The Bad Batch."

Clara perked up excitedly, grinning stupidly drunk when she spotted the four walk into the bar.

Hunter was far more attractive in real life, that was to be sure. They had this aura of disconnectedness. Some clones were grinning, high-fiving Wrecker, the others were watching them bitterly.

They were definitely outcasts.

Clara had nearly forgotten them in her haste to change everything and her mind drifted to Omega at the thought. Would she find Hunter if they never needed to separate? Would they have become as close?

She would make sure they did because Omega was a member as much as they were.

"Commander," Hunter greeted Ashoka, nodding to Rex. Wrecker stood behind him, downing drink after drink, Tech was staring at something on his datapad, focused and unbothered by everyone else.

Crosshair hadn't left the entrance of the bar, standing in the dark, observing everyone.

"Hunter!" Ashoka exclaimed brightly. "Nice t'meet you. See you." She blinked. "NIce to see you. I've met you. We've met," she over-explained to Clara. "This is Clara. She's our new friend."

"I didn't think the Jedi could have friends," Hunter replied dryly, eyeing Clara.

His gaze was piercing, though not like Crosshair's which appeared to not leave her. Hunter's was observant, predatory almost, in the way he watched her.

"Hunter," he offered gruffly. "This is Wrecker and Tech."

"Have you tried the spiked ale?" Wrecker asked enthusiastically as Clara struggled to maintain a clear expression.

She couldn't let them all know she was absolutely hammered.

"No," Clara shook her head. "You...should drink some for me."

Wrecker grinned and nodded, bounding off to the bartop.

"You don't look very Jedi," Tech announced, eyeing Clara. "And you're not wearing a lightsaber hilt."

"I told you I should get one," Clara pouted to Ashoka. "Stupid Skywalker."

"General Skywalker?" Hunter asked, raising an eyebrow. "He's alright. What'd he do to upset a little lady like you, hm?"

Was Hunter flirting with her?

Hunter?

The...Hunter?

Clara blinked, watching him and in her mind she replied something incredibly flirtatious.

Something smooth.

She could be smooth.

But a moment too late, her mouth caught up and she responded with, "if the world was half as hot as you, it'd burn faster."

Hunter's eyes narrowed and his lips quirked up. "See you around, Clara," he nodded to Ashoka, then walked off, Tech and Wrecker bounding close behind.

Clara's head fell down to the table. "What is happening to me?"

"I think it was a great line," Ashoka comforted placatingly. "If...you know...the world was burning?"

"Clara, have you been drinking?"

Oh, great, Obi-Wan was bothering her now, too?

Clara looked up, a whimper leaving her. "I embarrassed myself in front of the hot guy," she pouted to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan looked to Rex, then to Ashoka, and he sighed. "Come on," he offered her a hand out of the booth and she leaned against him. "Oh, you have been drinking haven't you?" He cooed softly, cradling her against him.

"Rex, make sure Ashoka gets back to the Temple in an hour."

"You're not my dad," Ashoka blurted out with a pout, then graoned at his look. "Fine, whatever, but only because I want to."

"Has anyone seen Anakin?" Clara asked loudly as Obi-Wan led her out of the bar, an arm around her waist, the other holding her hands as she stumbled around. "I like him. I love him. He's...woah."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "I do believe Anakin's preoccupied this evening," he informed Clara. "He said you're upset with him."

"He told Palpatine," Clara ranted, words slurring as she fought to keep straight. "Stupid fucking idiot."

"That's an odd word choice," Obi-Wan pondered. "What does 'fucking' mean?"

Clara giggled to herself. "You said fucking."

Obi-Wan eyed her in amusement. "Perhaps, it's because I do not understand, Clara. Is it close to kriff?"

"Oh, yeah," Clara nodded. "Kriffing idiot."

"Mind your language," Obi-Wan chastised half-heartedly and she grinned into his side.

"Yes, daddy," she giggled and he straightened, clearing his throat.

"You have had a grievous amount to drink tonight, haven't you?"

"General Kenobi!" Clara quoted in her faux robotic voice. "Hello there," she tried Obi-Wan's accent. "That's what Grevious says to you later. But I'mma stop it."

"Are you?" Obi-Wan asked softly. "It's alright if you can't, Clara. No one will blame you."

"I won't let him fall, Obi," she teared up. "He's just so stupid and can't listen."

"I know, darling."

—

Clara's headache was downright brutal, and unfortunately there were no secret tonics or enhanced medicine to cure a hangover.

And yet, she swore never to drink again. Or challenge three clones to a drinking contest.

Or flirt with Hunter.

Oh, God, had she really flirted with arguably the most attractive clone? She couldn't believe herself. Not to mention, she couldn't completely recall how she'd gotten home. Clara let out a small groan as the nausea swelled and she rushed to her refresher, leaning against the toilet when she finished.

"Clara?"

It was Anakin.

Great.

This wasn't exactly how she wanted to see him after their fight but she had so little energy left after the night before that she didn't even raise a hand to greet him or swat him away when he entered.

"What're you — oh," Anakin softened, kneeling next to her. "You alright?" He asked softly, collecting her hair and holding it in his gloved hand. "Did you go drinking last night, chi tsi?"

Clara nodded, then grimaced at the motion. "Don't feel good," she whined to him. "Bad drinking."

"That's right," Anakin chuckled. "Drinking is bad." He watched her for a moment and then gently helped her up. "Come on, let's get you situated."

Clara let out a noise of complaint and leaned against him as he led her to the bed. "Ashoka mentioned you met the Bad Batch last night?" Anakin inquired.

Clara nodded, falling onto the bed and grimacing. "Hunter was so hot."

Anakin didn't say anything but something flickered on his face. "He's a clone, Clara."

"You love the clones."

"I do," Anakin nodded, brushing back a piece of her hair, feeling her head. "You're warm. I'll get you some tea. The Jedi don't have anti-veisalgia drugs here, but I think Obi-Wan's got a stash." He rolled his eyes. "Guy gets drunk more than anyone."

"Really?" Clara asked curiously, watching Anakin.

Anakin hummed in response, gently brushing her hair with his gloved hand. "I'm here for a few days, Obi-Wan will be gone. I think we could meditate together if you're alright with that?"

Clara nodded. "Okay," she replied quietly. "Not mad at me?"

"No," Anakin shook his head. "I feel like all we do is fight and apologize. That's not right, akku-ka," he added quietly. "I don't want to fight with you."

"Me either," Clara's eyes closed. "I'm so tired."

"Rest, Clara," he told her softly. The bed weighed down next to her, but his hand didn't move from her face.

Clara opened her eyes, eyeing the leather before grabbing his hand softly. "Can I see?" She asked quietly.

Anakin tensed, face hardening. He opened his mouth to speak and Clara softened. "Trust me," she told him and gently tugged at the glove.

He watched her in trepidation as she slowly took off his glove, placing it on her chest. His bionic arm was a sight to behold. Clara had never known anyone with a hand like this. The closest was Bucky, but they'd only met in passing and it looked very different. Anakin's was softer, skinnier, more robotic than prosthetic.

"Does it hurt?" She asked quietly, sitting up a bit with a grimace and looking down at his golden palm. "Do you get phantom pains?"

Anakin watched her warily for a moment, a deep vulnerability in his eyes that she hadn't seen in him before. Poor Anakin, he was self-conscious of his arm, and she doubted everyone was kind about it.

"Sometimes," he replied softly. "But not often."

"Can you feel?" She asked, trailing a finger over his palm. "Do you feel that? How do the nerves work?"

"It's complicated," he answered slowly, quietly. Uncertain. "It has a neural interface which allows me to control it with my thoughts, it's connected into my nerves. It's got these," he wiggled his fingers softly around her wrist and she let out a small laugh. "Electrostatic fingertips," he told her, and she watched as the Jedi Knight became someone far more soft, curious.

The Engineer.

Anakin had always been an Engineer, he loved tinkering on Artoo and built Threepio from the ground up. He fixed ships and podracers, but he probably had so little time for such hobbies in the Jedi.

How sad — to get rid of a piece of himself for everything else. The biggest part of himself.

"They stimulate touch by registering pressure and surface textures," he continued. "The power source is here," he moved his hand to show a small button on his thumb. "Because it's in the thumb, it's very compact and allows for easier movement. It was a great mechanical job, really, I don't think I could've done better. Sometimes I tinker on it though, if I have the time," he rambled on, and Clara found herself watching with a soft smile. He was so alive in this moment.

"The servo motors are incredibly precise, top of the line, really, the Jedi didn't spare an expense to fix me, which was great. They allow my movements to be free, so I can still fight the same. To answer your question in a less roundabout way, I can feel your touch, but it's not like in my regular hand. I feel a pressure, but it's not the same tingling sensation you'd feel in a normal hand."

He looked sheepish when he finished, a bit embarrassed that he'd gone on, but Clara's smile only widened.

"I love it," she told him. "I think it's beautiful."

Anakin's eyes widened at her words and his cheeks pinkened again. "Shut up, Clara."

"I mean it," she said firmly, eyes meeting his. "Anakin, you survived losing a hand and still use this incredible piece of machinery effortlessly. I think it's beautiful."

Anakin opened his mouth to speak but for the first time, he didn't appear to have words. He smiled a bit, looked down, resting his hand on hers. She intertwined their fingers, and he squeezed once.

It felt like a step towards something. A piece of him he kept so hidden and obscured from everyone else was revealed to her — and she was kind about it.

She vowed to never be misunderstanding with him again.

It was slow to gain Anakin's trust. Of course, he trusted Palpatine, it's the only father figure he's ever truly had. She had to gain his trust and slowly turn him against the Sith, and it would be easier said than done.

But this was a step.

Anakin squeezed her hand again and she realized the headache had dissipated in their conversation.

Curious.

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Amatakkan
(Tatooine's slave language)
akku-kah - sweetheart

it's been so long omg i could not get through this chapter. we're starting to pick up a bit i promise we're going to get more into her powers probably next chapter or the one after. also i love the bad batch sorry had to include them hahahaha. and the 79's comes from a headcanon of the clones all hanging out there & taking their favorite Jedi. anakin was obviously with padme lolololol. do you guys think she & hunter should smash? if they do it'll be on a mission probably in the back of a ship or something hahahaha but just an idea. anyways hope y'all liked!!