*Synthesis: the combination of a thesis (light) and antithesis (dark), usually leading to a great truth. Or, in this case,, a fulfilled promise. Hardcase had been turned to dust. Again, he had a friend died. For the 501st were more than clones, more than numbers, they were blood brothers to Anakin. The explosion of the tank being hurled against the vulture was a dance of bright light, and the shadows it casted, illuminating the battlefield. Anakin turned, a fire behind those eyes. Now, this was anger, but tempered with duty and focus. He had to save Fives. He had two meet the others. Mourning came later. So Anakin Skywalker stood in that dusk/dawn between the two forces vying for his soul. It might be a once in a time miracle, but it was what it was. The air around him cracked as he sped through the camp. Satine, Padmé, they knew the location: a coordinate in the desert. It had been found by Anakin and Obi Wan's training with Qui Gon: a series of underground tunnels,  an empty cave system. No life grew there, but the Light would provide. And they weren't going to stay there forever. Grievous had poked a  nest too much, for far too long. Now, it was the turn for the sleeping Zillo Beast to strike back.
The Chosen One moved as fast as he could, a streamlined flow of movements as he reached the point where Fives was being crushed by debris. A hand was lifted, and every piece of boulder was taken upwards by a soft, precise guiding hand. He suspended every, single boulder in the air, holding them in stasis, as he saw Fives. This one, this one he wasn't going to lose again. "Can you stand, Fives?" he asked, his voice a curious point between strain and serenity. Yet his eyes told it all: he was hurting, badly. His ribs ached, and his body was working by taking every ounce of Force it could from his surroundings. A capillary broke, and another, and another, a one eye becoming bloodshot, and bruises appearing on his neck, and on his ribs. His body wasn't ready to handle the level of power Anakin was displaying, yet. He needed to recover fully for that. For Force's sake, he was pretty much carrying an entire building worth of debris, massive boulders being softly, gently paused in the air. A metallic door screeched in the back of his mind, but it was unyielding, pushed away. "If you can"; he said, his voice struggling. "Go to the sewer system. Lower Quadrant, near the border. We'll- mmf- we have a rendezvous to meet".
Outside, the ship of Satine's ship was growing fainter, and fainter. Through the Force, to this state of being a living conduit to it unlike any other, Anakin could feel the anger, the fear, the despair, the wounds. Yet only Hardcase had died. He was a hero. Whether Fives obeyed, or not, or stayed to aid Anakin, the unbelievably pissed-off Jedi, yet clinging to both Light (the Jedi in him), and Dark (the angry General), turned, and threw the rocks and debris away with a the yell he had never released before. Each rock fell, crushed, and slammed the ground, exposing pipelines of gas, water, and the like. And creating a destroyed landscaped that would swallow whatever unlucky droid had survived. An escape opportunity amidst the chaos for the pair, for Fives and Skywalker. This had been a shit awful night*