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echoreconcrew · 27 days ago

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Meet Me In the Woods

Chapter 9: Plans in Motion

Author's Note: This one is quite disjointed but its setting up for the finale. I am truly sorry I have been a bit absent lately. Yee ole heart is acting up again so, its been making it hard to find any energy. Thanks to those who keep following along. ~ Mae

Summary: Hera and Howzer on the case....

Word Count: 4,400

Warnings: General angst/brimming anxiety; lots of desperate longing, mentions of impending danger, we all know the empire, arguments, controlling behavior

The HUB | Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (coming soon!)

▄︻デ══━一

“Citizens of Ryloth, the shocking attack on your beloved senator has left you shaken, but Orn Free Taa’s condition continues to improve, and he will make a full recovery…”

Hera crouched low beside the young girl she barely knew, eyes fixed on the soldiers below. Reaching out to mercenaries had never been part of her plan, but with few options left, it was her only hope of rescuing her parents. The leader–Hunter–had been blunt, warning her that they were likely beyond saving. Now, as she watched from the cliffside while Admiral Rampart delivered his speech about sacrifice and duty, the young Twi’lek trembled–not with fear, but with rage.

“The perpetrators of this heinous assassination attempt have been captured–”

“Assassination attempt…?” Hunter muttered, brow furrowed.

“Cham Syndulla and his insurgents–”

“That’s not what happened!” Hera protested, her voice cracking as her shoulders slumped in disbelief.

“–will answer for their betrayal.”

“Hunter, Crosshair is here–” Omega began, but Hera barely registered her words. She wasn’t interested in the clones’ complicated history with one of their own. Her focus stayed fixed on the crowd below, scanning every uniform and every face, heart pounding. Then, movement.

A group of troopers emerged, and among them was a figure in ominous black armor–Crosshair. With a rough shove, he forced someone into the open. A familiar face stumbled forward.

“That’s Valérie!” Hera gasped, her stomach twisting.

“They’re saying she’s the sniper,” said the clone with the goggles. His tone was more observational than accusatory, but it still didn’t calm the surging emotions in the girl.

“She didn’t do it,” Hera snapped, stepping forward. “She was asleep in her room when I left with Gobi. I know she didn’t do it.”

The clone nodded slowly–not dismissive, but not hopeful either. Hera found it strange to see Val from a distance like this. Valérie had always been the one watching over everyone else. That vigilance was part of what made her so essential to Hera’s father. She kept them safe. She had their backs.

Hera could hardly remember a time without Gobi or Val in her life. Even before the war, Ryloth had been unstable. Their parents had died in the early unrest, and Hera’s father had taken in his old friend as family. That meant Val–older than Hera, but still closer than most in age–had become someone Hera deeply wanted to emulate.

Hera cherished the influence her ‘aunt’ had on her life, even if Val often felt more like the sister she’d never had. Valérie carried herself with a quiet strength, a calm certainty that Hera admired. She knew when to speak and when to listen. She moved with grace, projected quiet confidence, and trusted slowly but with depth. She could be humorous, drawing the eyes of the men, but never seeming desperate for their attention either. It was a way of being Hera longed to master.

But Hera still felt awkward–gangly, as if her limbs didn’t quite know where they belonged. She stood on the fringes of something too large, too consequential, unsure of her place in any of it. Especially now, watching Valérie–a pillar of her childhood, of her father’s trust–being paraded before an angry crowd, accused of crimes Hera knew she hadn’t committed.

“Well, they clearly think she did,” Wrecker muttered, his voice a low growl behind her. “And if Crosshair’s the one marching her out... that’s not gonna end well.”

Hera didn’t respond. Her gaze remained locked on Valérie, who was being dragged toward the center of the square, shoulders drawn back, face unreadable. The harsh afternoon sun cast sharp shadows over the cracked stone, highlighting every movement like a stage performance none of them had chosen to attend.

The crowd thickened around the perimeter, bodies pressing in close. Dust rose in little clouds beneath restless feet. Angry murmurs rippled like static through the air–whispers that cracked into sharp bursts of outrage or confusion. Faces blurred into a collective scowl: farmers still in work-stained clothes, off-duty soldiers with tension in their stances, mothers holding children tight against their hips. Some shouted demands for justice; others simply watched, uncertain.

Hera could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest. The square felt smaller than it should have, claustrophobic despite the open air. The heat from the bodies, the dirt in the air, the scent of sweat and tension–it all mixed into something oppressive.

She should do something. Say something. As the clones to act and quickly. But what? She was just... Hera. Too young. Too unproven. Too unsure.

And yet, as Valérie was shoved forward–her boots scuffing against the worn stone, her head held high despite the chains–something cold settled deep in Hera’s stomach. This wasn’t just about Valérie. It was about all of them. What the empire had planned for Hera’s father and mother in prison. The uncertainty Hera felt being the one attempting to rescue them all.

“Captain Howzer won’t let them hurt her,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “He’s a good man. He won’t stand by and let this happen.”

“A Reg?” Wrecker asked, raising a brow.

“I’m getting real tired of everyone acting like all Regs are bad,” Echo shot back, tone edged with frustration.

Their argument barely registered in Hera’s mind. She was focused on Valérie–bruised, silent, but still defiant–as she was forced to stand before the crowd.

“They can’t execute her without a trial,” Tech interjected, eyes fixed on his datapad. “Especially not in front of Cham’s supporters. That’s a direct violation of GAR protocol. If they go through with it, they will spark a riot.”

Hera leaned in, her eyes scanning the glowing screen in Tech’s hands. A file was open–Valérie’s profile, stark and impersonal. Lines of text, ID codes, timestamps. All clinical, all detached. It was like watching her friend disappear behind a wall of bureaucracy, her loyalty and compassion reduced to suspicions and strategic liabilities.

Behind her, the clones slipped away, speaking in low tones. Hera didn’t follow the conversation–her thoughts remained tangled in the data before her.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Omega said softly, stepping closer.

Hera blinked, then gave a small nod. “Valérie has helped my father for as long as I can remember. Her brother, Gobi–”

“He was the one who got the supplies!” Omega interrupted, her face lighting up with realization.

Despite the tight coil of tension wrapping around her chest, Hera managed a faint smile. Omega’s voice, bright with misplaced optimism, cut through the heaviness like a sliver of morning light through storm clouds. For a moment, it was like hearing herself–before. Before the raids. Before the arrests. Before her childhood became a battlefield.

“Yes. Uncle Gobi never trusted the Empire,” Hera said softly.

“And Valérie?” Omega asked, tilting her head, curiosity unshaken.

Hera hesitated. Valérie. Just saying her name brought a familiar ache–like trying to recall a melody long unsung. “She always wanted to wait until we knew more,” Hera said, her voice quieter now. “To believe in peace, like my father did. She thought that if we didn’t provoke the Empire, they’d leave us alone.”

Her breath caught. The words felt naïve now, bitter in hindsight. “Now they’re all in prison. Accused of crimes they didn’t commit.”

The worry bled into her voice, no longer restrained, no longer easily masked. It was raw. Real.

Omega opened her mouth. “Don’t worry–”

But the thought never finished.

A sharp crash shattered the moment. Metal against stone. A burst of sparks.

Hera spun, instinct taking over, just in time to see Hunter land hard atop a probe droid, his blade driving clean through its viewport. The droid convulsed beneath him, electrical currents snapping wildly before the machine collapsed in a twitching heap.

“Oh good. A probe droid,” Tech muttered, his voice bone-dry as he stepped closer to examine the wreckage.

But Hera wasn’t listening.

Her heartbeat surged, pounding in her ears. The Empire knew. Or would, soon. If they had probe droids in the hills, watching the square, watching them–it meant their cover was gone. Whatever slim window they had left to get her parents, to stop this before it spiraled out of control, was closing. Fast.

Chopper whirred forward on stiff wheels, his mechanical arms hovering tensely over the smoking wreck. Even the droid seemed to sense it. Hera’s stomach twisted.

She turned sharply, scanning the crowd below, the tops of heads, the movement, the haze of heat and unrest. Where were they? Her parents. Valérie. Anyone. She searched desperately for a familiar shape, a familiar face–but the moment had passed. The crowd had shifted. The image gone.

She clenched her fists. Part of her wanted to run straight down into the square, to shout the truth, to drag them all out of those chains with her bare hands if she had to. But what then? She was just one girl. A pilot in training. Not a soldier. Not a leader.

Not yet.

The weight of that thought landed like stone in her chest. She hated it. Hated the fear that kept her still. Hated the part of her that doubted if she was strong enough to change any of this.

“Come on!” Omega hissed, grabbing her arm with surprising strength.

The others were already moving, slipping like shadows down the ridge and into the brush, fast and silent. They didn’t have time.

Hera turned back one last time. The square lay below them like a powder keg, one spark from igniting. Valérie was still down there. Her parents. Everything she cared about.

She let herself be pulled into the dark with the others, but her gaze lingered. Hope trailed behind her like smoke, curling away into the open sky.

▄︻デ══━一

“No, Howzer. Some isn’t good enough. I want all of Syndulla’s supporters found,” Rampart snapped, each word honed like a vibroblade.

Howzer stood rigid, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His hands, stiff at his sides, trembled with the effort not to ball into fists. The speech they’d just left still sat like rot in his gut. Watching Crosshair and his squad drag Valérie into the open–bruised, bound, and forced to her knees before her people–had almost made him retch inside his helmet. It hadn’t been a trial. It wasn’t justice. It was theater. A warning shot fired through the heart of Ryloth.

And now this. A command to tear the Syndulla name from the soil itself.

Rampart’s words rang with clinical precision, but the message was clear: round them up. All of them. Anyone with a voice, a memory, a heartbeat that echoed loyalty to Cham Syndulla.

Howzer swallowed hard, nausea coiling low in his stomach. These weren’t insurgents. These were citizens–farmers, traders, neighbors. Many had fought beside him in the war. Had called him brother. They had trusted the clones when the Republic stood. Trusted him.

“Sir,” he said, steadying his voice with every ounce of restraint he had, “if we keep rounding up peaceful citizens–especially after parading someone they respect, someone they love, battered and bleeding–we’re not preserving order. We’re inciting rebellion. There will be an uprising.”

For a brief, flickering second, he let himself believe logic might break through. That somewhere in Rampart’s spine-straight posture and sterile diction, there still existed a man who understood the meaning of restraint. Or even shame.

Rampart only scoffed. “Then they’ll be arrested as well,” he replied, not even glancing back. “Peace has a cost, Captain.”

Howzer didn’t speak. Couldn’t. The bitterness in his mouth was suffocating.

He had worn the uniform with pride once. Sworn his oath to protect peace, to defend the people who could not defend themselves. But this? This wasn’t peacekeeping. This was tyranny wrapped in procedure. Oppression dressed in protocol.

And as Rampart turned away, his silhouette a picture of cold efficiency, Howzer’s chest tightened with something heavier than anger. Guilt. Fury. Resolve.

At what point does following orders become betrayal?

He turned sharply and left, boots pounding through the corridor with quiet urgency.

“Clone Force 99 is on Ryloth–”

The words hit him the moment he entered the operations room. The voice delivering them–cold, sharp, disdainful–was unmistakable. Crosshair.

Howzer stopped short. Every muscle in his body tensed.

That clone–no, that Imperial lapdog–was becoming a greater danger with every passing hour. Watching him escort Valérie into the square, that smug detachment in his eyes, had nearly pushed Howzer past the edge. And the bruises–new, raw, cruel–those hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen her. Howzer had wanted to lunge across the square, wanted to throw Crosshair off the steps and watch the cruelty vanish from his face as he hit the stone below.

But he hadn’t. Not yet. Not when there was still something to salvage. Some hope, however fragile, still to protect. Crosshair and Rampart were already deep in tactical talk–troop movement, blockades, quiet assassinations disguised as raids. Howzer barely heard it. His mind had gone elsewhere.

If Clone Force 99 was truly here… that meant something. They’d vanished after Kamino, branded traitors by the Empire, rumored ghosts since. And now they were on Ryloth? Why? He stared blankly at the glowing data display, barely registering the details. If they were here, then maybe–not certainly, but maybe–they weren’t just watching. They were moving. Acting.

And Hera... Hera had always been resourceful, sharper than her years. She had fire in her blood, the kind that didn't go out, even in the dark. It was just possible–just barely possible–that she’d made contact. That she had allies beyond what he imagined. That she was already fighting, even from the shadows.

A plan might be in motion. Rescue. Disruption. Something. Anything.

And for the first time in what felt like days, a flicker of something stirred in his chest–not hope, exactly. Hope was too clean a word. It was more like defiance. Quiet, coiled, and deadly.

He would play his part for now. Let Rampart believe he was still loyal. Let Crosshair gloat in his cold precision.

But Howzer had made his decision.

He would not be complicit.

He would not stand by while the people he was sworn to protect were broken in chains.

▄︻デ══━一

“I don’t need a lecture, Chop,” Hera muttered, voice low and laced with defeat.

Chopper warbled indignantly, his dome swiveling in agitation as he rolled in front of her, trying to block her path. He beeped again–sharp, argumentative tones that made his point clear: leave now, while they still had a chance.

But Hera didn’t move. Her arms were crossed, her jaw set.

“As if you understand what it means to have family,” she snapped, softer now, almost to herself.

It felt wrong. Deeply wrong. Every instinct inside her screamed not to run–not without her parents. Even if Clone Force 99 had said no, even if Chopper was insisting they flee, she couldn’t abandon them. She’d find another way. She had to.

Behind her, soft footsteps approached.

“Hunter means well,” Omega said gently.

Hera turned to find the younger girl watching her with those impossibly hopeful eyes.

“I know you’re scared,” Omega continued. “But don’t give up. He’ll come around.”

Omega’s certainty made Hera’s stomach twist. How could she be so sure? These clones owed Hera nothing. They didn’t even know her. And yet Omega spoke as though their help was a given, as though trust were something easily earned. Naïve. That was the word that came to Hera’s mind. Sweet, brave, and determined–but undeniably naïve.

Hera studied her. She was young. Younger than Hera, probably. And yet there was a strange sense of wisdom beneath Omega’s optimism. A wisdom born not from age, but from experience–however different it might be. Still, Hera couldn’t help but question her.

“Why do you trust him so much?” she asked, voice flat as she turned back toward the wall, unwilling to let her emotions show.

There was a pause, and then Omega answered without hesitation.

“Because he’s my brother.”

Hera turned, eyes wide. “Brother? Him?”

Chopper emitted a confused squawk, echoing Hera’s disbelief.

She’d heard a bit about clones before–how they were all genetically identical, bred for war, bred to follow orders. Sure, there were occasional differences–haircuts, scars, maybe even personality quirks–but they were still soldiers, cut from the same cloth. Like Howzer. Like all the others stationed on Ryloth.

But the Bad Batch? They were different. Different in every way.

When she’d first met them–on that tense ride back with Gobi–she had asked. Why did they look and act so unlike the clones she’d seen before? Gobi hadn’t had a good answer.

But now… it made a strange kind of sense. Omega was one of them.

“They all are,” Omega said, nodding toward the other clones hiding nearby. Hera blinked, her mind racing.

Wrecker–the loud one with the booming laugh–had a childlike joy about him. His voice, though deeper and rougher, carried a tone not unlike Omega’s. Echo, cold and mechanical at first glance, had a quiet intensity, a conviction–Hera recognized that in Omega too. Tech, with his sharp logic and quick tongue, shared her facial features more clearly than the others in his large quizzical eyes. And Hunter… he looked closest to the standard clones. Yet there was something behind his eyes. Something tired. Something fiercely protective.

“They’re more like me than the others,” Omega added, as if reading her thoughts.

Hera was quiet for a moment, then exhaled slowly.

“You’re lucky,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Throughout the war, she’d seen the bond the clones shared. That unspoken connection. Calling each other brother without hesitation. Fighting and dying for each other without a second thought.

Hera had no siblings. No army of brothers standing behind her. Just her father–and now, he was in danger. So was her mother. Her whole world was crumbling, and all she had was a stubborn droid and a plan no one believed in.

Except… Omega.

“You can trust them too,” Omega said softly. “We just need to think of a plan. Something that’ll convince Hunter it’s the right move.”

Hera hesitated. “Why would he listen to me?”

It was a fair question. Hunter had made it clear–rescuing her parents was risky, maybe impossible. Hera had no leverage, no resources. Just desperation.

But Omega didn’t flinch.

“Because it’s strategic,” she said simply. “Ryloth is your home. You know it better than we ever could.” That stopped Hera cold. Strategic. Not sentimental. Not emotional. Tactical. Important.

Her heart beat faster.

She did know Ryloth. Its back alleys, hidden paths, escape tunnels. She knew where the Empire patrolled, where they didn’t. She’d mapped it in her head, on her joyrides with Gobi. She had information–real, valuable information. Maybe more than she realized.

For the first time in days, she felt something spark in her chest.

It wasn’t just hope.

It was belief.

Someone believed in her–not as a child, not as a symbol, but as a partner. Not her uncle, manipulating her to get back at her father. Not even her parents, trying to protect her from the truth. Omega believed in Hera Syndulla. In what she could do.

Hera straightened. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I do.”

And in that moment, she understood something that would stay with her for the rest of her life:

Rebellion doesn’t start with grand speeches or fleets in the sky. It starts in quiet places. In conversations between children who refuse to give up. It begins not in anger, but in conviction.

A single spark, burning too brightly to be extinguished.

▄︻デ══━一

Cham was cradling Eleni in his arms when Howzer entered the holding area, the dim light of the cell block flickering faintly against the cold durasteel walls. The atmosphere was heavy–charged with grief, betrayal, and something worse: disappointment.

In the shadows behind them, Gobi stood with his arms crossed, already scowling, his eyes narrowing into hard, silent judgment before Howzer could even open his mouth. The message was clear. He wasn’t welcome here.

Then Cham looked up.

There was no greeting. No hesitation. Just a burning mixture of anger and pain smoldering in his eyes.

“So this is the side you’ve chosen?” Cham asked.

The words were calm, but they struck like a blow.

Howzer stood straighter, his jaw tightening. He had expected this. Maybe even deserved it. The illusion of loyalty still had to be maintained–at least to those watching above. His visits to the cells had been justified on official record as "interrogation," a chance to extract valuable information. But in truth, he was searching–for a way to help them. For a clue as to where Hera might be. For a way to coordinate, somehow, with the girl he prayed hadn’t given up yet. With Valérie still in custody and time slipping through his fingers like sand, he couldn’t afford to lose any chance.

He inhaled sharply, trying to hold the tension at bay. “Look. You both attacked an Imperial convoy. What did you think would happen?”

His voice was firm, laced with military detachment–but his eyes betrayed something else. Desperation. He wasn’t here to reprimand them. He needed to know what they knew. Maybe there was something they hadn’t told him during his last visit. Something that could turn the tide, however small.

Eleni met his gaze without blinking. Her posture, even behind the cell's energy field, radiated quiet strength.

“Taa gave us no choice. We had to protect Hera,” she said, her voice ringing with steel certainty.

That was Eleni. Fiercely maternal. Always calm, always thinking three moves ahead. Even when fear had its claws in her, she spoke with unwavering control. She believed in Hera–Howzer had seen that. Maybe more than Cham ever let himself show. But beneath that belief was something primal. That same protectiveness that made her so dangerous when cornered.

Howzer scanned the corridor. No boots echoing down the halls. No eyes behind the security cams–he’d made sure of that. He stepped closer and leaned into the red glow of the energy barrier, lowering his voice to a hiss. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

His tone softened, almost pleading. He searched their eyes, trying to reach through the barrier, through the anger. Trying to remind them that he was still the same man who’d once stood beside them in battle, who had dined with them in peace, who had laughed in simpler times.

“Admiral Rampart’s squad is out there looking for her. She’s in danger. So please. If you know where she is, tell me. I’ll protect her.”

The words came out raw. Honest. But they were met with a wall more impenetrable than the one that separated them.

Cham’s response came with a scoff.

“Like how you swore to protect Ryloth. We trusted you, Howzer. I won’t make that mistake again.”

His voice was clipped. Heavy. It wasn’t a shout, but it hit harder than one ever could. Howzer felt something in him flinch, something he couldn’t quite hide. The space between them suddenly felt oceans wide.

His heart sank. The window for action was closing. He might still find Hera, might still help–but without their trust, every step would be slower, riskier. And time… time was running out. Not just for the Syndullas. But for Valérie too.

Then, Gobi stepped forward, his voice sharp and bitter.

“Valérie trusted you. Now look at her.”

The name stung like a lash. Valérie. Her face flashed through Howzer’s mind–the last time he saw her, being dragged away in restraints. Head held high, proud even in chains. But her eyes… they’d looked back at him. Not with anger. Not with blame. Just one question in her eyes: What are you waiting for?

“I am trying to help her,” he said, the frustration seeping through now as he leaned against the cell’s edge, the hum of the energy field vibrating faintly beneath his forearm. His voice cracked at the edges. “I just want to get her off-world. They are going to kill her, Gobi. I–”

He broke off, the words choking in his throat. For a second, Gobi’s anger faltered. There was something in his expression–a flicker, a fracture. He wasn’t ready to forgive, but he was listening.

“I need her safe,” Howzer continued, his voice quieter now. “I can’t live with myself if she dies for a crime she hasn’t committed.”

It wasn’t strategy anymore. It was truth. A truth that weighed so heavily on his shoulders he feared it might crush him. If he lost her… it wouldn’t just be a failed mission. It would be a part of himself he couldn’t ever repair.

Cham wasn’t swayed.

“Then why haven’t you testified that you did not witness her do it?” he asked coldly.

Howzer clenched his jaw. He’d thought about it–had nearly walked into Rampart’s office more than once, willing to risk it all. But it wasn’t that simple.

“Because that Imperial snake killed my man,” he snapped. “I have to be smart about this. I can’t just openly act or I’ll lose the upper hand. But if we–”

“No,” Cham interrupted, his voice like steel. “There is no ‘we.’ Not this time, Howzer.”

Silence fell again, thick and suffocating.

“And if you seek my trust again,” Cham added quietly, “you will need to prove it is worthy of reclaiming.”

“Cham,” Howzer said, trying one last time.

But the man’s eyes were already turning away.

“Go. We have nothing to say to you.”

“Gobi–” Howzer turned, grasping for something, anything.

But Eleni’s voice stopped him. It was soft, but laced with a grief that hurt more than anger. “Howzer, please.”

Her gaze met his. The fierce protectiveness was still there, but so was the hurt. The fear of a mother whose daughter was missing. The disappointment of a friend who felt betrayed. He nodded. There was nothing more to say.

He straightened, squaring his shoulders with military precision, and turned away. His boots echoed dully down the corridor, a rhythm of failure that followed him like a shadow.

They had every right not to trust him. He couldn’t deny that. Not after all they’d lost. And Valérie… They didn’t even know how far his devotion to her truly went. How many times he’d silenced himself to keep her safe. And now, she sat alone, deep within the prison’s walls. Solitary. Cut off. A prisoner of the very Empire he served.

And what had his silence accomplished? He’d tried to protect her by pretending not to care.Now he feared it might cost her everything. For now, he could only wait. And hope. Hope that Hera Syndulla still had her father’s fire–and her mother’s cunning. Because if anyone could turn the tide, it was her.

And if she couldn't… there might be no one left who could.

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monako-jinn-stories · 2 years ago

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Captain Howzer X Fem! Reader FanFic

Rebels on the Run

Main Master List

Multi-part Stories Master List

Chapter Four

Chapter Six

Chapter Five

Swirls of faint light dance in the vast darkness of your mind. Whispers fill your ears as you try to listen and make out what they’re saying. Their colors differ, although you can assume what they mean. Blue and green are the jedi that are still pure, grey are those that walk the line between the light and dark, and red are sith and fallen jedi. Some are flickering, indicating that they might be faltering in their ways.

There are four lights that stand out to you; two red, one blue, and one grey. Anakin, Tayah, Obi Wan, and Ahsoka. They travel different paths, and none of them lead to each other. Part of you wants to find each of them, but you know that you have more important matters at hand.

One matter is how to get off of Ryloth. Nothing has been working out for you, and your hope is starting to wane. Although, you keep your morale up when Howzer is around, as you don’t want to worry him.

Another matter is how to keep the two of you hidden once you’re off the planet. Dohbar likely will be a safe place for the two of you to stay, but you haven’t raised that question to Howzer yet. Plus, you haven’t been a ‘thing’ for long. You don’t even know what you really are. That’s a third matter, figuring out where you stand and what, if anything, is your label.

The fourth matter is Howzer’s aging. You want him to be able to live as long as he’d like, even though you’re not quite sure how long that is. A Kaminoan scientist had been working on Dohbar to come up with a sort of treatment to slow down the aging process for your battalion, but seeing as they were lost to the Empire, they no longer require it.

All this, plus little worries, have now replaced the lights of force users as stars in your mind. The big problems glow the brightest while the smaller ones twinkle softly. You let out a soft sigh in your meditation, blowing away all the issues and focusing on one.

A hand caresses your cheek and you open your eyes slightly before closing them again and leaning into Howzer’s touch. His breath is warm on your nose as he places a gentle kiss there, then one on each cheek, making you giggle. You open your eyes to playfully pout, causing him to chuckle in response. “I know you were busy meditating,” he says, placing a kiss on your forehead now, “but we should get going to the city before it’s too late.”

“About that…” you say, letting your fingers intertwine with his as he sits next to you, “I was thinking we could stay in the hotel tonight. I miss having an actual mattress instead of sleeping on stone. Plus, we’re already going there, so might as well make the most of it.”

“We could do that,” he agrees, “but I still think we should head out soon.”

“Why? You got a hot date or something?” you tease, nudging him in the side.

“Yes, the one by my side,” he replies with a smirk, “but also something else. I’m expecting a comm, that’s why I want to go to the hotel. I was able to use an old comm channel last time I was scouting. I reached an old friend of mine and we decided to do another transmission because I asked him to find some stuff out for me. He said he and some others might be able to help us get off of Ryloth, and soon!” he says, excitement building in his smile, “Just think, y/n, we can leave and never have to take another step into sand again! Wouldn’t that be great?” His smile is wide and expectant, but you don’t feel the same way as him. A silence fills the space between you as you sit and process his words. Your grip is tight on his hand, and concern starts to flood Howzer. “Y/n? Is everything alright?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before finally responding. “I know you’re trying to help,” you say slowly, “but using comms…it’s dangerous, Howzer. Especially if you use channels that the Empire might be able to listen in on.”

“There’s no way they could have, it’s an old channel that only clones ever used.”

“And how many clones have security based jobs for the Empire?” you counter, “someone could have heard you.”

“Well, my friend made sure-”

“Howzer, I’m not trying to argue with you,” you say, cutting him off, “but…I don’t want either of us to have gotten so far, gotten so close to freedom, and then have everything stripped from us again. The risk is far greater than the possible reward. What if it was a trick? What if the Empire somehow, I don’t know, copied your friend’s voice and way of speaking? What if they track us down? What if people get in trouble for allowing you to go free? I just can’t see a way in which no one gets hurt from this.”

Howzer shifts to kneel in front of you, reaching up and cupping your face with both hands. “I promise everything will be alright, y/n,” he says, “we can get off this planet and join the rebellion, fight for everyone’s freedom.”

“Join the rebellion…” you echo, and you have to swallow hard as you look away. “I…I can’t do that, Howzer. Not yet, at least. There’s something else that I’m responsible for, something closer to me.”

“Oh,” he says, pursing his lips, “I uh, I get it.”

“I’m not saying that I’ll never join,” you reassure him, “just that I have something else first. I failed someone, and I have this urge to try and meet them again, to see if I can help in some way.”

“Would you want some help?” he offers, but you shake your head.

“This is something I have to do alone. I guess you can call it a master and apprentice situation.”

“You had an apprentice?” Howzer asks, and you nod.

“Briefly. For a year in the middle of the war. But, things went wrong.” You don’t want to speak more on it, so you stand and pull him up with you. “Come on,” you say, “don’t wanna miss your comm date.”

“It’s far from a date,” he chuckles, following you out of the hideout, “it’s with a brother of mine.”

“I thought you said it was a friend?”

“Friend, brother, fellow clone trooper, it’s all the same to me,” he shrugs before climbing onto his speeder. Once his helmet is on, the two of you start your engines and race to the far town.

“So, who exactly is this friend-brother of yours?” you ask as you wait for him to get the comm set up.

“His name is Echo,” Howzer replies as he begins to set up his transceiver. You stand off to the side, helmet in your hands as you wait for him to tell you it’s connected. “He was in the 501st under General Skywalker.” You stiffen then, heart lurching at the name. “Then he joined the group of clones called the Bad Batch, or Clone Force 99. He left them to join Captain Rex, also of the 501st, and help liberate other clones.”

“I know Rex,” you say, “and I knew Echo too. Although I never got to see him after he was rescued. I heard about what happened to him though. Are we sure he’s trustworthy? The Techno Union could have put some…programming into him. Can we really be sure-”

“If I wasn’t sure that he is trustworthy, I wouldn’t have let you be here,” Howzer says, looking up at you. “I would have told you it was too dangerous if I wasn’t sure. Same with Rex.”

You let out a sigh before nodding. Howzer finishes pressing a few buttons then nods at you. You slip your helmet on and watch as he puts his on as well. “This is Repeat and King reporting to Howler.”

“Howler here,” Howzer responded, and you instantly figure out the code names they are using. Smart, you think to yourself, but is it smart enough?

“Is Wizard with you?” Rex, that has to be him. The hopeful tone in his voice is all too familiar to you. And the way he says wizard, as if he’s remembering his own former general.

“Wizard is in the area.” Howzer’s vague confirmation of your presence sticks out to you. Just this small detail can be very confusing. If someone is listening in, they won’t know if you’re inside or outside, unless they have some sort of tracking technology.

“Good. Our information about exports is no longer confidential. We are contacting you to give a report.”

“We are prepared to hear the report.” Well, that just confirmed where I am.

“There is a cargo shuttle scheduled to pick up exports in city three at 0800 on Taungsday.” In three days time, there will be a ship coming to city three at 0800. But what is city three? “The ship will depart with exports at 0900, and no later.”

“What are the items that are being exported?”

“Local products, as well as a few foreign products that had been mistakenly imported a while back.” I guess we’re the mistaken foreign products.

“Alright, thank you for the information, Repeat and King.” Repeat must be Echo, while King is Rex. “Wizard and I will be ready to help load the exports onto the shuttle by 0900. We unfortunately have not been able to secure guards to make sure things go smoothly.”

“I’m sure there won’t be any interference,” Rex says, and hearing his voice again reminds you of the good old days. “We must go now. We will contact you if we receive any more information on the exports.”

“Thank you,” Howzer says before the transmission ends. You move from your spot and take your helmet off, sitting next to Howzer as he rests on the edge of the bed. “Three days,” he says, “until we’re finally off of this planet.”

“Hopefully,” you agree, leaning over and resting your head on his shoulder.

“We could just stay here until then. This is city three,” he suggests, but you shake your head.

“There are things I need to go get,” you reply. “Things I can’t leave without.”

“Could you bring them back here?”

“Too dangerous. It’s best if I get them and then stay back at the hideout until Taungsday.” Howzer nods, and you get up and stretch. “You know, I think I’m going to take a shower. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to use a proper sanisteam.”

“That does sound like a good idea,” Howzer agrees, and you turn to see the slightest smirk on his face, which gives you an idea.

“I’m taking one first, but you can have a little nap in the bed while you wait. Just don’t go on my side, I want the left.”

Howzer’s smirk drops and he purses his lips, which confirms your suspicions on his idea. “Actually, I was thinking,” he starts, “it might be a little wasteful for us both to take separate showers.”

“I was just going to take a quick one,” you reply, “maybe ten minutes at the most.”

“But that’s still ten minutes of water we could be sharing,” he counters.

You feel a giggle slip from you and you shake your head. “Now now, Howzer, you should never try and convince someone to let you shower with them.”

“Wha-no!” he says, panic settling on his features, “that’s not what- I’m sorry-”

You walk over to him and grin, taking his face in your hands before pressing your lips to his. “I was joking,” you say as you pull apart, “I guess it was kind of a rude joke.”

“Yes, it was,” he says while playfully pouting. “I know how you can make up for it.”

You raise an eyebrow and step back, folding your arms while smirking at him. “Oh really? And how is that?”

A grin spread over his face and he stood up from the bed, playfully grabbing your hand and starting to pull you towards the refresher. You stop, however, which causes Howzer to look back at you. “Are you…sure we should?” you ask, meeting his confused expression.

“Well, if you really don’t want it, we don’t have to. But I don’t see any problem with it.”

You sigh, taking a step forward and raising your hands to look at how they’re clasped together. “We’re getting off of Ryloth soon,” you start, “we’ll be free of this endless hiding. Well, I will. You’re going to go off and join the rebellion. Save your brothers who are still trapped in the Empire. We won’t be together anymore.”

Howzer’s eyes drop to your hands as well, and he squeezes slightly before pulling them to his chest. “You’ll always be here with me,” he says, pressing your hand over his heart, “even when you’re not standing by my side.” You lean forward and rest your forehead against his, letting a small sigh escape as you move. “But if you think this might be too big of a step, I understand.”

“Maybe…maybe when we finally leave.”

“Alright, mesh’la,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Enjoy your shower.” He steps back and smiles gently at you as you walk into the refresher. After you close the door, you hear the bed creak as he lays back down. Part of you feels bad for denying him, but another part of you thinks that going so far might be a mistake. Will you guys even still talk after you leave this planet? Are your promises just there to be broken?

You end up taking longer in the sanisteam than intended. Your mind wanders and distracts you, as well as the water. The warm liquid soothes your body, and you revel in the feeling you’ve been deprived of for so long. A soft knock on the door followed by your name is what pulls you back to reality. You turn the water off quickly and step out, looking around for a towel. “Uh, Howzer?”

“Are you okay in there? You’ve been taking a while,” he replies.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, taking another look around the room, “but uh…I forgot to bring in a towel.”

“Oh,” he says, “I’ll grab you one.” A few moments pass and there’s another knock on the door. “I have one.”

“Thank you,” you say, opening the door a crack and sticking your arm out. You wait for a few more moments to let him hand it to you, but nothing comes, other than a few chuckles. “Howzer?” you ask, sticking your head out, “can I have the towel?”

“Of course,” he replies with a grin, “it’s right there.” You look down to where he’s pointing, and the towel is just barely out of your reach.

You look back up at him with a raised brow, and his cheeky grin only widens. “You know I can just use the force, right?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “but you wouldn’t ruin my fun, would you?”

“You wanna bet?” you ask, and he gives a fake pout, making you sigh with a small smile. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Kisses and cuddles,” he instantly responds.

“That’s all?”

“Well, if you insist on more-”

“No, no no,” you cut in, “that is enough. Now can you please hand me my towel?”

“Anything for you,” he says, walking over and picking it up before taking another step and kneeling down. He raises the towel above his head with both arms and bows slightly, saying, “my lady.” You roll your eyes and snatch the towel whacking him on the head briefly before closing the door and drying off. You then redress and step out to find him back on the bed.

“I’m not cuddling you until after you shower,” you say with your hands on your hips. “Since I just got myself cleaned.”

“Ugh fine,” he says, dramatically slipping off the bed and falling onto the floor.

You walk over to where he is, grinning like a kowakian monkey. “You’re acting very…childish today,” you say, looking down at him, “is there something you’re happy about?”

He looks up at you with genuine confusion before standing up. “We’re about to get off of this rock,” he says, “of course I’m excited.” You look down again as your mind goes back to your inevitable separation. “Mesh’la,” Howzer says softly, reaching his hand out and gently lifting your face to look up at him, “it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

You close your eyes again and take a deep breath, leaning back to look up at his messy curls. Your hand reaches up to run through them, and Howzer’s eyes flutter softly as he melts into the feeling. “I’ll let you go take a shower now,” you say quietly, moving your eyes to meet his beautiful dark brown ones. He nods, and you lean in to gently kiss him. His hands go to your waist and he holds you close, pulling you into a hug after you break from the kiss. You think about letting those three words fall out, but decide it isn’t a good time. So instead, you let your intrusive thoughts win. “You stink.”

Howzer immediately pulls back, giving you a look of fake offense. “How dare you,” he says, “and here I thought we had something special.”

“That smell is special,” you snicker, and he sticks his tongue out at you playfully, causing you to giggle. “Don’t forget your towel,” you say, throwing it at the back of his head as he walks to the bathroom.

“Oh, you’re not going to tease me like I did to you,” he chuckles, and you pull the towel back with the force.

“I can if you want, or,” you say, grabbing your wet one and twisting it up, “I can be a lot more mean.” An evil grin covers your face, and a look of fear covers his as you run towards him. He lets out a yelp before slamming the door shut, and you laugh maniacally from outside. “I still have your towel!” you say while standing outside the door.

“I’ll be fine without it!” he responds before turning on the sanisteam.

“Well it’s outside the door if you want it,” you say, crawling onto the bed before slipping under the covers. It’s been a long time since you’ve been this comfortable, and before you know it, you’re falling into a deep sleep. You barely notice when Howzer crawls in next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as his nose buries into the back of your neck.

You and him have never actually shared a bed before, not even just to cuddle. But it feels so natural when you wake up that you swear you’ve done it a million times. You don’t think about it for too long, though, as the coziness and warmth from Howzer pull you right back into sleep. Besides, you have a couple more days until your escape. You can spend the time cuddling with him, nothing will go wrong.

Right?

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