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REQUIEM FOR THE LOST

"You can't win a war. Someone else just loses."

Alexandra Christo, To Kill A Kingdom

THERE was nothing as heavy as the silence after a war. The aftertaste of violence hung over the battlefield. When the dust settled and they emerged victorious, there was only one thing left to do for Medea Centauri and her troopers. "Count the dead, Captain. And tend to the wounded." The weight of losses was heavier on her heart than anticipated. "The battle's won, but not the war."

Captain Knox nodded. He had lost good men in this battle. Men that he had trained since they had joined up the cause. But Medea was right. There was always another battle tomorrow, and they must be ready. He took his leave, abandoning Medea to her thoughts again. The planet of Narvos had been under siege. The Narvosi people had been forced to flee their home planet and those who couldn't were enslaved by the Separatist leader Maw and his droid army. They finally had Maw captured but it had taken a week-long assault on the Separatist fortress and they were short of many resources. The Narvosi people had been freed from bondage but they still needed help to rebuild. Medea closed her eyes and felt the sun shine on her face. As it set, she wished it would take this awful war with it.

"General." Medea looked over her shoulder at Captain Knox. "It's General Kenobi." Medea followed Knox inside the makeshift base they had set up. Her troopers were sitting inside, cleaning their weapons without a sound. It felt infinitely wrong to disturb the quietness in the wake of the battle. It was a solemn affair, a habit she had picked up from her fellow soldiers. The silence was for the fallen. The silence was to honor the brothers lost in the fight, the ones who sacrificed everything. The silence also allowed the mind to rest and contemplate.

Medea met Obi-Wan Kenobi's eyes in the hologram and he greeted her with the smallest of smiles. "Maw is on his way to the prison," she told him.

"I heard," Obi-Wan replied. "Good job with the incursion and the capture."

"It won't be very useful unless the Narvosi get food and medical supplies," Medea shook her head and crossed her arms behind her back.

"Don't worry," Obi-Wan assured her. "General Fortes is already on his way with supplies." Medea nodded, and Obi-Wan observed her. Medea Centauri looked tired. This was odd because Medea rarely ever looked tired. With her hair red like a bleeding sunset and her eyes a home to forests of green, Medea Centauri almost always looked lively. But today something weighed on her. Obi-Wan sensed it. "Is something troubling you?"

Medea mulled over her thoughts. She didn't remember her parents, but she knew she had been born on Premiscara, the planet of the seven seas. In her vast readings about the history and culture of the planet, Medea had come to know of a phrase Premiscaran said when one of their own died. Hail and Farewell. She said it now, to herself, quietly. She gazed back at Obi-Wan, then, awaiting her answer still. The troopers in the tent slowly moved out as twilight fell outside. They would rest now. And tomorrow, they would be sent to fight another battle. Medea sighed. "Too many men died, Master. Is the cost of freedom truly so high? Does it have to be paid in blood?"

"You ask the question of ages, Medea." Obi-Wan looked as clueless and as afraid of the answer as her. So Medea retreated. She thanked him for checking in and sending supplies with Cato. He wished her a good night and a sound sleep. Then Medea turned the hologram off.

Wondering still about the cost of freedom, Medea made her way to her tent. These thoughts had been troubling Medea since the clone wars had started. That fight of Geonosis had birthed several hundred wars across the galaxy, and at the very center of it all was the Jedi Order.

Medea sat down on her cot and felt the dried blood on her robes rub against her skin. She cringed. The blood was of a trooper. He had been injured and had tried to hold on, but the fight continued for too long. Medea shook her head and scoffed. Defenders of peace, she thought, fighting wars and washing blood off their hands.

It wasn't until she felt a weight on her shoulder that she realized she wasn't alone. "Lost somewhere?" It was Cato Fortes. He was sitting behind her, his chin on her shoulder. Medea closed her eyes and soaked in the feeling of his skin against her. He was colder. He was always colder.

Medea sighed. "Just thinking," she mumbled and turned to look at him. His sharp jaw and slitted eyes always reminded Medea of a predator. His nose brushed her cheek. He smelled of war, which was to say he smelled the way everything smelled nowadays.

"Shouldn't do that," Cato said, shaking his head. His eyes closed and the left end of his mouth tugged upwards. Medea felt a chill down her spine. She didn't want him to get angry. "You know I hate it when you think."

Medea Centauri felt indebted to Cato Fortes. There were so many times he had saved her life. She only wanted to pay back with ─ her love, her life. Whatever it took. They both knew the Jedi Council would not approve of this, so they hid. They hid their love in warzones and battlefields. They hid their love behind frontlines and closed doors. They hid. But love should never be a secret. If you keep something as complicated as love stored up inside, it could make you sick.

"When did you get here?" Medea asked.

Cato tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear. He didn't like when she kept her hair open. "Some time ago. I hate running mercy missions," he scoffed. "I should be out there, fighting."

"You'll get your fight soon enough," Medea said and fell back on her cot. The beds never got softer as the war continued. She looked at Cato. Took him in. The way his eyes stalked her every movement. The way his fingers flexed over her like they always did before he would reach for his lightsaber. The way she was afraid. She could never understand why she was afraid, though. He loved her. What was there to be afraid of? The Council. What if they found out? What if anyone got to know? And, what else was she afraid of? Losing Cato. She did not think she could bear it if he were gone.

Cato's hand came to rest over her stomach, right over the bloody handprint that one of her soldiers had left on her robe. "Yes," he said quietly. "I know."

"I just keep hoping that every time I close my eyes," Medea sighed, her eyes shutting as if she were praying, "this war ─ this fight, it's all a nightmare. I keep waiting for it to end, but it never does."

"I have a feeling," Cato said and laid down beside her, resting his head in his hand and gazing down at her, "that this is only the beginning." Medea's eyes opened to find him. He always looked like he knew something he wasn't telling her. That's just my face, he would say every time. And every time Medea believed him. Because why wouldn't she. He loved her. He would never lie to her. He moved his hand down her face, closing her eyes. "Sleep now."

And Medea slept.

But even in dreams, she saw the fight. Even here, she was not safe from the horrors of the battlefield. The screams. The explosions. The ringing in her ear. When she was younger and told of the stories of the Jedi, they were always heroes. They were always helping. They were peacekeepers. She couldn't remember a story where the Jedi were killers. But maybe that was the story they were living now. Maybe this would be the story of the future. There was a Medea before the start of this war, but who remembers her? Who remembers the Medea with stars in her eyes and trees in her heart? 

Now all that was left was the world at the point of her lightsaber. Its ice-blue glow filled behind her eyelids and Maw's words rang in her ears. Soon the Jedi will fall on their own swords. She had heard taunting words by the defeated before, but this felt different. Everything felt different. They had been fighting for a year now, and the end never seemed to be in sight. Medea flinched as the alarms went off, filling her vision in red and hammering the sound against her skull until she gasped awake.

Her shoulders followed as she sucked in deep breaths to calm herself, then found that she was still in her bed. There were no red lights and no alarms except for the ones in her head. Medea sighed and wiped her face. Every night. And as soon as morning came the nightmare continued. She reached for Cato beside her but found the bedside empty and cold. Medea frowned. She put on a clean set of robes, tied half of her hair back, and made her way out of her tent to search for him. The troopers greeted her. They seemed to be loading their stuff back on the ship.

"Captain," Medea called for Knox once she spotted him. He made his way over and nodded a greeting. "What's all the rush?"

Knox shrugged. "Ah, the boys are eager to get home."

Medea managed a small smile. "And where's General Fortes?"

"He and his men made for the village to get the supplies to the people as soon as possible."

Medea nodded. And Captain Knox left her again to get lost in her thoughts. She wouldn't see Cato again. Not for some time. It was always this way. It will always be this way. Both of them will keep going on in circles, chasing after each other and always falling behind as long as this war continues. It has to end. It has to end.

Medea made her way to board the LAAT gunship. She will go back to Coruscant now, and find which next fight awaits her. She missed Cato whenever they were apart. But she didn't miss him like a soft thing. She missed him violently. She missed him like one misses a lost limb. Days went on and turned into weeks before she would see him sometimes, but the ache never lessened. He was always there, a phantom pain. In the night, in the dark, a hologram of him might act as a balm but her heart always beat slower when they were apart.

»»——⍟——««

ABOARD the Jedi Cruiser, there was not much to do until they arrived on Coruscant. So Medea sought to meditate. It came easy to her. Trying to feel the Force around her was easy. It was like closing your eyes and taking a leap, trusting there would be hands to catch you. There were warring sides to Medea's center. She would give her life for the Order and for the Republic, but there was always that little trickle hiding behind curtains. Every time Medea pursued it, it gave her a chase down her memory's lane of every horrible thing she had ever witnessed. The pain was startling every time even though she knew it was coming. The game of hide-and-seek with this source of ─ Medea dared call it ─ darkness scared her. Nightmares of dead Jedi woke her up in cold sweat most nights. It was hard not to get attached. How was one supposed to love then not fight to hold on to that love? How was one supposed to just let go?

Medea's meditation broke and her eyes blinked open, taking in her quarters on the starcruiser. She sighed and her shoulders slumped. Her master always made it look so easy. Maitri Patreya was phenomenal Jedi. Master of patience and battle prowess that continued to stun newcomers, she had taught Medea everything she knew. She always knew the right thing to say. And this time, Medea knew what her old Master would tell her. She had told her before, too. "Everything dies. In time, even stars burn out. This is why Jedi form no attachments: all things pass. To hold on to something ─ or someone ─ beyond its time is to set your selfish desires against the Force. That is a path of misery, Medea; the Jedi do not walk it."

If there ever was a time for Medea's captain to interrupt her thoughts, this was it. She never liked being left alone with herself. It always gave her a sense of anxiety. Always made her feel as if somebody was going to jump her from the shadows. She wasn't afraid of the dark, she never really had been. But the war had been hard. Comfort and peace always made her unsettled.

The doors of her quarters slid open and Medea rose from the floor, eyebrows furrowed. A trilling sound attracted her attention down to her R2 unit wheeling in. Medea chuckled softly. R2-K2 had been with her since before the start of the Clone Wars. He had belonged to her Master and she had given him to Medea as a gift when Medea had passed her Trials. Medea had nicknamed the little rascal Fetch and repainted his blue accents to match her violent red hair.

Fetch beeped again, bumping against her legs.

"What is it, little guy?" He rolled back, trilling excitedly. "A call?" Medea asked. "From who?"

A blue hologram projected outwards, eclipsing Medea's vision. There he was, that dazzling smile on his face. Anakin Skywalker. When they'd met, Anakin had been a warmhearted nine-year-old boy with an open nature. He was twenty now, and the years had changed him. He had grown to be a boy who hid his heart. But Medea could see behind the walls he had built. She could see the boy who still loved racing on his speeder and chasing the stars in his ship.

In the night, in the dark when the Jedi Temple got quiet, both of them would sneak out together to lay in the garden and count the stars. I'm gonna travel the whole galaxy, he would say, every galaxy. Just you wait. And Medea would smile, somehow knowing it to be true. Somehow she had always known it to be true. He was different than the rest of them. Different from the rest of the Jedi. His compassion didn't just burn, it raged.

"What?" Medea asked, though not unkindly. The ends of her mouth tugged upwards. "Did you get lost again?"

Anakin mumbled her words back at her mockingly, annoyed. But when she laughed, he couldn't help the smile on his face. It was the same laugh he'd heard a hundred times before but it never got old. The momentary twinkle in her eyes just before they closed from the happiness, the dips beside her mouth as it stretched, her teeth peeking from behind. It was the same laugh from those nights at the Jedi Temple, staring at those stars and promising to be best friends. He remembered the feeling of fear in himself before he had met her, and the moment all his fears dissipated when he had seen her for the first time. Every moment with Medea felt like invincible light. It felt like the promise of friendship with their backs on grass, laying under a blanket of stars. I'd like that, Medea had said back then, to have someone who would always watch my back. Someone who I could count on at the times when this scary world gets the scariest.

Medea was Anakin's Force Sister. They were bound together by the Force. They were closer than friends. Closer than siblings. Neither could imagine life without the other. The war had forged their two lives into one. Their bond was reflected not only in their closeness and willingness to lay down their lives for one another but also in the oath ─ one sworn in front of the Council. Anakin knew he got in his head too much sometimes. He was reckless and impulsive, and she wasn't that different from him, not really. But when he soared too far above, she was there to keep him tethered to the ground. Without her, he would be lost among the clouds. "You look worn out," he remarked.

"Thanks," Medea snarked back. Noticing his shoulder pads and armor, she asked, "Where are you headed?"

"Grievous has one our own," Anakin sighed. "Master Eeth Koth. We're going to rescue him."

"What? Why was I not told of this?" Medea asked, sitting back down on her bed. Another fight. Another person stolen from her because of the war. What if ─? No. She could not imagine losing Anakin. Losing him would mean losing herself. They were stitched together ─ when he breathed, she breathed. When he bled, she bled. Their bond was both blade and shield. They belonged together and to each other not because they were the same but because their different shapes fit together to be a greater whole, a greater warrior for a higher purpose.

"Because you were busy taking down Maw. We needed him gone ─ " Anakin paused, only now noticing her lost state. She had her chin cupped in her hand, a frown pulling down the ends of her mouth. Anakin made a face. "You know I can see your frown, right?" Medea was startled out of her thoughts by his voice. "What's bothering you?"

"Bothering?" Medea scoffed. "I'm not bothered."

"Yeah, you are," Anakin nodded. He pointed to the spot between his eyebrows. "You get a line between your eyebrows." And Anakin could sense it. He could always sense it.

Medea rolled her eyes. Anakin shrugged at his clear win. Medea sighed. She could not tell him she missed him so dearly. It would not do him good in the battle. So she told him the second thing that was bothering her. "I just didn't get to say goodbye to Cato."

Anakin made a face. "Seriously?"

"You're one to talk to," Medea huffed, Padmé's smiling face filling her mind. Anakin's shoulders dropped as if agreeing. His face seemed to say fair point. "I just never know when I'll see him next," Medea reasoned as she stood up in frustration. "It could be weeks. Months."

"Good," Anakin said, annoyed. "I really don't like him."

Medea scoffed. "You're just scared he'll beat your kills," she retorted.

"Hey!" Anakin protested, offended. "No one's ever gonna beat 250."

"It was a bomb!" Medea reasoned in a tone that indicated that they had had this conversation before. Several times.

"Yeah, but I detonated it!"

Before they could descend down a conversation path that led to nowhere, they were interrupted by Captain Rex entering Anakin's quarters. He was Anakin's captain, had been since the beginning of the Clone Wars. He was the reason Anakin's 501st Legion was going to be the stuff of legends. "General," Rex said, looking slightly apologetic. "Sorry for interrupting, but we've arrived at the coordinates."

"Alright," Anakin nodded.

"Rex," Medea greeted the captain. "Keep him alive, will you?"

"Always, sir," Rex gave a nod, his lips pulling into a small smile.

Anakin sighed, shaking his head. "Bye, Dea."

Medea waved before the call cut off, the hologram disappearing, leaving only the white painted wall behind it. A terribly woeful sigh escaped her lips. How long? she wondered. Just how long would she have to say goodbye in a way that wrenched her heart? When could she say goodbye without the fear of not seeing them again? When will this war end?