When You Come Home

-16-

"Rako Hardeen?" Anakin repeated incredulously. Why did something about him seem ...?

"Yeah," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck before wiping his dirty hands down his thick, khaki track pants. "Um, hi, Anakin."

"Thanks for saving my life, Rako," Anakin concluded, then began struggling to get up.

"Woah, easy, there!" Ahsoka chided, looking around to see if anyone had noticed them yet. The dust and flames had finally settled enough for the firefighters and Republic troops to have spotted them. Anakin saw Cody at the front of the pack.

"Kid!" he exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside him, reaching out to touch him but hesitating lest he make it worse. Apparently Anakin wasn't a sight to behold.

"Are you okay?" He sounded more worried than he looked, and that was saying a lot. "Lie down." It was a command, and Anakin obeyed instantly. "Wait until Coric gets here. Coric!" he hollered over his shoulder. "I need a medic immediately!"

"Sorry, Commander," Anakin offered weakly, stilling as his burns and aches began to worsen. If he got in before Cody could scold him for his recklessness, perhaps his punishment would be less severe. But from the look on Cody's face, Anakin knew he wouldn't be getting off lightly this time.

"What were you thinking?" he snapped, though more from concern than anger. "One day, your actions will catch up on you. You'll get hurt, or worse."

Anakin was surprised that he had missed out on the "disobeying-direct-orders" lecture this time, but perhaps his recent promotion had won him some grace. Still, he knew Cody was right, and from personal experience, though last time it had not been him getting hurt. He should be more careful. It was just that ... sometimes he got carried away.

"And who are you, anyway?" Anakin heard Cody asking his new friend who had yet to move from his position beside them.

As though startled into life by the question, Rako blinked before straightening quickly. He dusted the ash and debris off his fitted, mushroom-brown top, then down the darker brown sleeves of an undershirt. He readjusted the mask around his mouth and nose, then gave his hood an extra tug, eyes obscured behind smoky goggles as he peered at Anakin. "I'm leaving," he said in answer to Cody's question. "Take care of him, won't you?" His voice was rough, like it had been used too much, but he sounded young. Something about his bearing — the way he held his lithe yet muscly frame — gave the impression of one who wasn't to be trifled with, yet there was a kindness in the little of his face that wasn't hidden that betrayed his portrayed ruggedness. Sure, his boots were worn and his clothes dirtied, but any holes had been expertly patched, and his boot strings had been replaced at least once. But he played with the fingerless gloves on his hands as though he wasn't as in control as his demeanour proffered. Despite whatever thoughts swirled behind his expressionless mask, he turned and disappeared into the smoke.

Cody glared after him, then moved aside as Coric knelt beside Anakin. The noises blared around Anakin, but he had eyes only for the fading silhouette on the horizon. Who was he? Why had he saved him? And what had he been doing in the same area, at the same time?

"Rako," Anakin murmured, trying out the name. He looked inquisitively at Ahsoka as Coric loaded him on a stretcher and guided him from the wreckage. "Who is he?"

She shrugged, one hand gripping the stretcher as she jogged alongside him. "Rako Hardeen? I think he's Mandalorian, but I thought he was a criminal. I don't know what he's doing interfering in the war."

"I wouldn't have called it interfering," Anakin mused before coughing heavily.

Ahsoka shot him an angry look before she schooled her features again. "Stop talking; you're making it worse."