#[everyone is surprised when they don't join the separatists]

[iconac]

prequel-era revan is referred to by their peers as a knight "of the old republic" and it is not a compliment

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Ok, this is so fun! Congrats again!

I'll pick...Hunter (shocked, I'm sure.)

How about: "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" and "Oh, don't be cute"/"Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Thanks!!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Thank you @clonethirstingisreal - I hope you love this Carol, it actually brought a smile to my face as I was writing it.

Enjoy, love oo.

One Meal

Warnings: knife flipping, allusions to loss, slight angst, fluff. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

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Hunter flicked his knife back and forth in between his fingers, as he contemplated the next mission. Things were … different, since you joined. Not good or bad … just different. It been about six months, and yes, the Marauder was cleaner and didn’t have that lingering smell anymore, and yes, the meals had gotten better too, because you refused to just eat the ration bars the GAR provided. And … okay, it was nice to see your smiling face in the morning, compared to the miserable faces of his brothers. 

Yet, he still felt awkward around you. He wanted to laugh with you, like you could so easily with Wrecker, to have deep discussion, like you could with Tech, even philosophical discussions like you did with Echo. Hell, he’d be happy if he could just do target practice with you, like you did with Crosshair, but … every time he opened his mouth, he was curt, short tempered, and on edge. 

It wasn’t even your fault, it was just him. 

He stood from his seat, heading down the ramp and taking in a breath of fresh air. You were cooking dinner, doing your best to teach Wrecker that just because salt tasted good, didn’t mean he had to put in a whole table spoon full. 

It made him laugh a little as you tried to explain in your most patient voice possible, that you’d fix the dinner and Wrecker could go help Tech or Crosshair with something else. It was your polite way of saying ‘go away.’

Hunter tried but he couldn’t stop the smile on his lips, as he walked over to you.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile" you pointed out as he walked up to you. “What’s got you so happy?”

“Oh, I just saw how you were very tactful with Wrecker. It was funny.”

You shrugged trying to fight back your own laughter as you tried to fix the stew, by adding more water, “He tried. I’m grateful he’s willing to learn.”

“Need help? I’m not completely inept when it comes to cooking.”

You looked a little surprised when he asked, not that his offering to help was a real shock, it was the fact you realized this was the first time you two had a proper conversation. “Um … yeah, if you don’t mind using your handy dandy knife there, that you like flipping around so much, to cut up some of these veggies so I can add them, that’d be great.”

Hunter chuckled at your description, as he nodded, taking a seat and getting to work, “Where did you learn to cook?” He asked, hoping to get to know you a little better.

“My mom and grandmother. They were adamant that I learn how to feed an army if I ever needed to …” you chuckled, “I had a big family, back home. Usually there would be around twenty of us for dinner.”

“Twenty? Did you have a lot of siblings?”

“No. It was just me. But I had uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbours, anyone and everyone who needed a meal could always come to our place for dinner. We never turned away anyone in need of a good meal.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was …” a sadness passed your face, as you thought back to what had once been your home, until the Separatist droid army showed up, and destroyed everything you had held so dear. 

Hunter saw your smile slip, it pained him to see that you had been through so much, although he hadn’t heard about it directly from you, he did overhear what had happened when you were talking with Tech. “Well we appreciate all your efforts, especially when you’re trying to teach us neanderthals how to cook.”

You giggled a little, pushing away the sad thoughts that had encapsulated your mind for a split second, “You’re not neanderthals.”

“We’re not exactly proper either. Couldn’t say, we’re exactly suited for a posh dinner.”

You shook your head as you laughed, “You don’t need to be suited for a posh dinner, you just need to show up to eat.” You smiled as you turned to look at him, smirking as you saw how perfectly he cut each vegetable.

You walked over and grabbed the tray of veggies, and dropped them into the stew, “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Why do you take care of us? I mean granted the Marauder smells a lot better, and the meals you cook are much better than the GAR rations, but … why do you do it?”

You stirred the stew as you contemplated the question, “I guess … because you feel like family to me.” You turned to look at him, truthfully, he was the only one that you didn’t think of as family, you wanted something more with him, something special, but seeing as this was the first time you two actually talked, it might be a bit far-fetched to imagine that could possibly happen. “And, I love seeing how my food makes you guys happy. Wrecker, has the biggest smile on his face, whenever he eats when I cook. Tech has this adorable blush, although he’ll never admit how much he enjoys my cooking. And Crosshair … well he always comes back for seconds; and frankly, between you and me, he needs to eat more. He’s too skinny. I could break off his collarbone if I needed.”

“I enjoy it too,” Hunter clarified as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I might not say it, but I always look forward to your cooking.” He blushed and turned his head away, not wanting you to see how much of an effect you had on him, and not just because of your cooking. 

You laughed at his reaction, "Oh, don't be cute” you teased, “I might have to walk over there and pinch your cheeks.”

Hunter started to laugh, when he realized what you said, “Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

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Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[supershot73199]

Ok so I've seen a lot of dcxdp crossovers where Danny goes feral on someone (mostly superman) who mistreated a clone. But you know another media that has clones who could use a feral Danny fighting for their rights? Star wars that's who.

Ok so the idea I had is that Danny ends up going into a portal in the ghost zone. Maybe after a reveal gone bad or even just cause clockwork said so. But he comes out in the star wars universe sometime during the clone wars near some random jedi. I personally like the idea of it being the arc where they are trying to get supplies through a separatist blockade over ryloth.

So Danny is on this weird new planet when he sees some aliens and decides to follow them while invisible. He sees how they are hungry hurt and tired and sees this different alien and these dudes in white armor protecting these people including what's obviously kids. Now while I think the obsession thing can be interesting if done well.... I don't think it fits this au at least not a protection obsession (plus I love the idea that Danny chose to sacrifice everything he did as a conscious decision and I feel like a protective obsession takes some of the gravity out of that choice.)

So Danny is following them maybe Master Ima-Gun-Di senses him but can't tell where he is and assumes he is a force sensitive twilek. So the time comes where he and his men make their last stand and Danny sees them in real danger and steps in because these alien dudes were clearly protecting people from these creepy droids. Master Gun-Di is clearly surprised by this teen with weird non force based powers (maybe since the force is basically life itself ecto energy is the flip side of the force not dark but part of the universes balance.) Anyway Danny saves these dudes only for them to realize he doesn't speak the language and sends him to the jedi temple.

I like the idea of him spending time with obi-wan (he does not join the Jedi because he doesn't have the force.) I just think they would like snarking at people together. Anyway time passes he gets close to Obi-Wan Anakin and Ahsoka as well as all of the clones. Now this is important Danny did not know they were clones he assumed they were volunteers from a humanoid race that did not have much in the way of physical diversity and hey how's he to know how alien biology works.

So he's with the group and one of the clones mentions that they are disposable or something. Danny give a pep talk about how all the people they have saved are alive and safe because of him and the others volunteering thinking that he just was having a moment from trauma. No the clone meant it literally and explains that they were a clone army bred solely for war. Danny is livid that this is basically an army of slave and demands to know who signed of on this. He gets told it's Palpatine who Danny already does not like (he gets serious fruit loop vibes) so Danny decides he's gonna get these babies rights. (He learned they were aged at an accelerated pace)

Que Danny haunting the senate he harassed everyone who mistreated the clones. Fox and Padmé love this feral bastard. Eventually when it was just the two of them Palpatine who had not realized that Danny was live streaming his latest prank goes full sith lord trying to kill or control Danny who just bodies this wrinkly old man the moment he starts trying to shoot lightning.

Danny saves the Galaxy by being a feral rat boy who exposes the secret shadow ruler who leads both sides of the war. Danny traps Palpatine who gets a official trial. The clones get rights and maybe they wear Dannys logo somewhere on their armor as thanks. And Danny gets to explore the Galaxy and learn about all these wonderful new cultures. (Until he learns that there are slaves in the galaxy which causes the return of the feral boy)

[toomanybandstocare]

{Captain Rex}

Caring Hands

Program: After months of heartbreak and worry, your roommate takes you out for a night to your old stomping grounds- 79s. A bar that used to hold such fond memories of spending blurry night with your friends of the 501st legion by the side of your riduur, Rex. tonight, it seems the magnetic pull between the two of you is determined to bring you together for one last chance. Pairing: Ex! Captain Rex x Ex! Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Second Chances

Naboo Sunset

Program: When Padmé sends word to you that Rex will be on an extended leave this time, you make sure that he'll enjoy his well deserved rest with no worries. Even with General Skywalker in on your plan, no one could have foreseen how Rex would react to your affection. Naboo will always be where the two of you point as the start of your lives as riduurs. Pairing: Captain Rex x GN! Reader Genre: Fluff

Relationship Firsts

Program: It's not often that Rex feels insecure or shies away from the people he cares about most. But as your relationship progresses, he finds that the burdens and scars of war will always sit heavy on his skin. The weight of it all comes crashing down on Rex, and he has you to reassure him that he's more than worthy of your love. Pairing: Captain Rex x GN! Reader -> Early Relationship Genre: Hurt / Comfort & Smut -> Minors Do Not Interact

Headcanons

How they fall asleep on their own and when they have the opportunity to stay the night with you. 79s hosts a burlesque night, and you catch the eye of three commanding officers.

{Marshal Commander Cody}

Flickering Stars

Program: Having grown close to the Marshal Commander after joining the civilian relief squad, you find yourselves at each other throats after a trap set by Separatists on Endor. Time ticks as the army pushes on through enemy territory, but almost everyone is more worried about you pulling away after Cody's fear getting the better of him with harsh words. When your life begins to flicker in front of his eyes, Cody does everything he can to save and with the hopes to tell you that he loves you. He'll stop at nothing to make sure your death isn't written in the stars rather than your love story. Pairing: Pining! Cody x Pining, GN! Reader Genre: Angst, Star Crossed Lovers (Kind Of)

Headcanons

How they fall asleep on their own and when they have the opportunity to stay the night with you. 79s hosts a burlesque night, and you catch the eye of three commanding officers.

{Commander Wolffe}

A Small Army

Program: With requests and paperwork assignments falling from two generals, you feel overwhelmed by the lack of support to help finish the additional work. Too afraid to make another mistake, you throw yourself into your tasks unaware of the watchful eyes of those around you. If you won't ask for help yourself, then Wolffe will remind you of the people around who care and want to help. And he'll take the time to explain just how much you mean to him and how much he's willing to do for you, if you let him. Pairing: Commander Wolffe x GN! Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Candy Cane Cupid

Program: Holidays come around every year with mixed emotion. Excitement buzzes as clones celebrate their first Life Day with their partners after the war. Disappointment is pushed to the back of your mind as you keep yourself busy at work while your riduur is away. Mischief is in the air when Cupid finally reveals his holiday surprise for you. Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Bartender, GN! Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort Counselor Note: Also part of the @cloneficgiftexchange's Life Day Event!

You Came, You Called

Program: You don't know why it happens, or why it lasts for sometimes only a day or spans across months. There are days where you can't recognize the person looking back at you. On those days, there's only one person you trust to call for support. The is nothing in this galaxy that will prevent Wolffe from coming to your aid and caring for you with a tender love that's reserved only for you. Pairing: Commander Wolffe x GN! Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort Counselor Note: Please read the warnings for this fic as it deals with mental health and heavier topics.

Headcanons

How they fall asleep on their own and when they have the opportunity to stay the night with you. 79s hosts a burlesque night, and you catch the eye of three commanding officers.

{Arc Trooper Fives}

By Your Side Tonight

Program: As the 501st's support agent, you've come to grow fond of your boys. Even if they're reckless and obvious. You only just marked it up to be a part of their charm, and two members of the boys in blue enjoy pulling at your heartstrings. Always trying to stay one move ahead of them in your game, a night out to 79s has you kneeling before one of them after what should have been a fatal blaster shot. Pairing: Arc Trooper Fives x GN! Reader Genre: Fluff (kind of??? my kind at least), Teasing, Flirty Humor Counselor Note: Part of the @cloneficgiftexchange :) Had a blast being a part of this and can't wait for the next one.

I Wish I Never Asked

Program: It's no secret that there's something going on between you and Fives, and the entire 501st is trying to get one of you to admit that there's more than lust and friendship. A welcome party at your apartment brings in good people, decent drinks, and revealing secrets. Maybe the confident ARC trooper isn't all that sure of himself or his emotions as he leads everyone to believe. Pairing: FWB, ARC Trooper Fives x FWB, GN! Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Second Chances

Headcanons

Fives does not like cold weather- he hates it in fact. How they fall asleep on their own and when they have the opportunity to stay the night with you .

{Arc Trooper Jesse}

A Night to Remember

Program: A shattered heart, shot glasses, and strobing lights start your night of selfish love. If a certain ARC Trooper makes his desires known and shows his vulnerable side to win you over for the night, who are you to shoot him down? After all, tonight was supposed to be a night forgotten, and Jesse has made it one to remember. Pairing: Jesse x GN! Reader Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort (a lil), Suggestive (a lil)

I've Got My Mind On You

Program: Birthdays...no longer come with presents wrapped in a bow or bring your loved ones together for your celebration. Unable to break away from the sadness and loneliness that you've come to associate with a day meant to for fond memories, you drift away and separate yourself from the people who stand by you everyday. Each day, Jesse keeps his eye on you terrified of the person who's taken your place. This is year that everything changes for the better, but that can only happen if you let it. Pairing: Arc Trooper Jesse x Intelligence officer, GN! Reader Alt Pairing: Arc Trooper Jesse & Intelligence officer, GN! Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Tradition in the Making

Program: Jesse comes home after a recent deployment to Kashyyyk with gifts and worries to share. Especially when his son runs up greets him at the door when Jesse left him in your arms. After dinner and when the little one is tucked in for bed, Jesse admits his conflicts feelings towards his GAR contract renewal and how we was able to cope being away from home. Pairing: Dad! Jesse x GN! Reader Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Suggestive (barely and at the end)

Headcanons

How they fall asleep on their own and when they have the opportunity to stay the night with you.

{Medic Kix}

Come Home to Me

Program: Kix always keeps his promises to you, especially when he says he'll come home. Never once has he left you feeling uneasy about your relationship, yet something makes you hold onto him longer one morning when needs to leave for deployment. Only for his ori'vod to return to you home with shattering news. Pairing: Kix x GN! Reader, established relationship Genre: Fluff -> Angst Requested by @ahsokastechie for a lil fic swap <3

Galaxy's Edge

Program: Everything is too much. The war. The pressure. The responsibilities. It all pushes you to the edge, and you teeter. Just a moment away from leaving it all to try to find a semblance of peace from the raging emotions that overwhelm you. Duty bound by his medical oaths and love, Kix is by your side and knows exactly how to talk you down. Pairing: Kix x GN! Reader, established relationship Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Headcanons

How they fall asleep on their own and when they have the opportunity to stay the night with you.

[jedi-hawkins]

Khaos then Havoc

Word count: 3.8k

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Bryn and the squad begin to get to know each other on their way to their first mission.

"So what's the mission?" Hunter asks.

Bryn smiles. "Simple recon and data retrieval. There's a separatist base on Kalevala in the Mandalore sector. The prime objective from GAR headquarters is to download all information from the base's data banks to help the Republic assess Separatists plans for that system. Our objective is simply to get out and get a feel for operating in the field. There should be minimal resistance so long as we're stealthy, but there will be clankers onsite. You boys packed and ready?"

The squad nods in agreement.

"Good, go ahead and load your stuff on board. Tech, how do you feel about co-piloting?" the clone's eyes light up at his general's invitation.

"I- It would be my pleasure, General." He stammers out.

She gives him a smile. "Well then, let's get moving.  Landing gear up in ten."

Bryn walks down the gangplank after the squad and grabs a crate to help loading up.

"I know none of you are certified MASH medics, but I assume you all received training in basic field medicine?" She asks.

Tech immediately answers. "We have received basic first aid training appropriate for application in the field. I have also done some more extensive research on my own."

"I suppose that's one disadvantage to not being with a Legion." Hunter adds, helping Bryn lift a second crate into the cargo hold. "No medics readily available."

Bryn shrugs. "Well I'm no GAR medic, but my mother was a healer and I've received extra training with the Jedi, so I'm sure Tech and I can patch us up when needed."

Wrecker wrings his hands in thought. "Well then... You should take the med bay as your room. So you don't have to use the foldouts."

Bryn's brow crinkles, "Are you sure? You know, I'm the only one here who's actually been on the frontlines. Out there a foldout is a luxury. I don't mind them, better than a dirt floor." She says jokingly.

Hunter shrugs. "I have no doubt in your ability to get dirty, General, but we shouldn't let a perma-bunk go to waste. It would also give you your own space while we're all on board."

"Well if you insist." Bryn concedes. "But as soon as someone needs it, I'm racking on the bunks with everyone else. Fair?"

The squad nods in agreement and Bryn turns to the lanky sniper loading an ammo crate into the hold. "Thoughts, Crosshair?"

He rolls a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "Whatever the General wants, the General gets." He says coolly, lifting up his weapons cleaning kit and striding up the gangplank.

Bryn rolls her eyes. "What is his deal? He got something against Jedi?" She huffs.

"He'll come around." Hunter says encouragingly.

Wrecker tosses another crate into the hold. "He's just mad he hasn't gotten under your skin yet."

Tech adjust his goggles. "Crosshair is very- particular about who is in his space. As Hunter said, he will come around with time."

A moment of silence falls as Bryn thinks over the predicament with the sniper. If he holds on to whatever issue he has with her, that could very well compromise a mission, as well as the lives of the squad.

"I will say," Hunter speaks up. "The tricks you pulled in the mess and the Beskar caught him off guard. He's a hard man to impress. You're already fairing better than most."

Bryn sighs. "I can tell he takes patience. Come on boys, wings up." She waves a hand to the rest of the squad and strides up the gangplank.

As she enters the ship, she notices Crosshair sitting in a jump seat, meticulously oiling his rifle, the toothpick still between his lips. She doesn't acknowledge him and simply turns to settle into the cockpit. Tech soon joins her as she's prepping the ship for departure.

"I'm surprised, General." Tech says plainly as he seamlessly joins the preflight check and begins assessing the hyperdrive systems.

"Hmm?" Bryn glances up from the controls. "How so?"

"You did not answer my question earlier. You are not the eldest of your family, are you? In your time there was another force-sensitive from Takodana listed in the Jedi archives. A Kaden Caro. I assume he is the eldest."

Bryn exhales sharply. "I'm sure I don't want to know how or why you got into those records, Tech, but I'd prefer we stay focused on the task at hand."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I was merely curious."

Bryn takes her hands off the Marauder's dashboard and spins her chair to look at Tech. "I know." She sighs. "Yes, Kaden was my older brother, and yes, he was force sensitive. He was Master Plo's padawan too."

Tech watches her intently. "Was? Past tense."

"He and Master Plo were on Zygerria leading the dissolution of the slaving empire." Bryn says, chewing on her bottom lip. "There was a group of sympathizers that barricaded themselves in a supply depot. Stray fire, is what the report said."

"That is a shame." Tech says plainly, his eyes falling to the floor. "I couldn't imaging losing one of my brothers, much less all of them."

Bryn shifts her foot and bumps her boot against Tech's. "It's okay." She says as his warm amber eyes meet her own. "I wasn't exactly close with any of them. Kaden was twelve years my senior and I was four when he died. I was taken to the Jedi Temple that same cycle and Orstold was barely a year old. Criss and Sembren hadn't even been born. Master Plo showed me the records of Kaden's life, that's how I know him. I didn't know my younger brothers until I was given the 43rd. Like I said, the Jedi, and now this squad, are who I consider my family."

With that, she spins back to the Marauder's dash and resumes her pre-fight check. Silence settles over the two, but after a couple minutes, Bryn speaks again. "It would mean a lot to me if you kept your research on me to yourself, Tech."

Tech glances over toward her and sees her starting intensely at him. He cocks his head to one side. "But why? My brothers and I are all eager to learn about you. Sharing my findings would be the most efficient way."

Bryn shakes her head. "I can understand your thought process, Tech. I'll gladly answer your questions as they come, but let the others search for answers on their own. It is important that this team trusts one another, and they only way they'll trust me is if I'm the one revealing my secrets." She gives him a smile and a wink before standing to flip a couple overhead switches and pressing a lever forward so the Marauder lifts off the ground and begins rising into the atmosphere.

Tech tries to think of a response, but it's clear Bryn has ended the conversation. Some might have seen it as abrupt or rude, but to Tech it all made sense. Bryn didn't have to answer his question, but she did and that was more than enough.

'She is an interesting one.' Tech thinks to himself, as he ticks the last few items off his pre-flight check and begins to warm the hyperdrives.

Two sets of footsteps give way to Hunter and Wrecker, who sit down in the spare cockpit seats.

"What's that?" Wrecker asks, jabbing a finger over Tech's shoulder.

"That would be the flux control for our deflector shields." His brother responds.

"What's that?"

"Our proximity alarm system."

"And that?"

Tech sighs. "Wrecker, please."

Hunter chuckles in the seat behind Bryn as his two brothers continue. "You get used to it. Wrecker has always tried to keep up with Tech in their studies, but the only thing he managed to get first was explosives and weaponry, everything else Tech takes the lead."

Bryn smiles over her shoulder at the Sergeant and presses a couple buttons on a panel in front of her. "Set for hyperspace." she announces.

Tech glances over a couple things on his dash. "Hyperspace ready."

Bryn nods and gently presses a lever forward with her right hand. Once the swirling blue light wraps itself around the ship, she presses a button on the dash and stretches her arms overhead. "Mhm, it'll take us about a day and a half to reach Kalevala, so get comfortable. I don't know about you, but I'm going to make some tea."

She stands from her seat, Hunter immediately rising as well. Bryn doesn't say anything at Hunter's sudden movement, instead she simply leads the way through the galley to the mess locker with a soft smile on her face. Upon entering the mess, Bryn immediately begins opening a few cupboards and sets a kettle on the counter. Hunter takes the kettle and begins filling it from the tap as Bryn grabs two mugs next.

"So tea, not caf?" Hunter asks.

Bryn chuckles, "I'll take caf in the morning to get started, but in the afternoons I prefer tea. I suppose that's a habit I owe to Obi-wan." She stands on her toes to reach onto a top shelf and pulls out two tins. She slides one across the counter to Hunter. "This one is from Gatalenta in the core, and that one you have there is a Moogan tea from the outer rim."

Hunter looks down at the tin in his hand. "Which would you recommend?"

"They're both good." Bryn says, taking a pouch out of the Gatalenta tin. "I tend to switch it up and alternate. This tea is more citrussy and light, that Moogan tea has a bit more of a warm spice to it. I'll make one of each and you can decide which you like."

Bryn puts a Moogan pouch into the second mug and takes the kettle from Hunter, who rapidly glances around, words hanging on his tongue. "I'm ah- I'll just step out for a second."

Bryn reaches out and snags Hunter's bracer before he has time to exit the mess. "No, it's okay. There's no induction top or electric heater. I had them removed. Sometimes I can hear their pitch so I couldn't imagine what they'd sound like to you. We have the gas camp stove and the ration warmer, neither of which give electric feedback. I also had the sonic shower replaced with a standard washer."

"General, I-" Hunter trails off, blinking in surprise. She actually thought about that? Quickly he gathers himself. "How are you going to heat the water?"

A warm smile spreads across her face. "Watch and see."

Bryn wraps her hands around the base of the kettle, and stills for a moment. Before long, Hunter can hear the water begin to bubble. He steps closer and leans on the counter, curiosity rolling off of him. "How are you..."

"Force kinesis. I'm focusing on moving the water particles past each other faster and faster to create heat." Bryn says, grinning.

"But your hands..."

Bryn moves one of her hands and rests it on top of Hunter's. He can feel the warmth of it through the back of his glove, but it's certainly not scalding hot as he expected. "It took me some practice, but I figured out how to keep the water at the outside of the kettle cooler while the center heats up." She explains.

Bryn removes her other hand from the kettle and pours water into each mug. She sets a saucer on top of them and turns around to lean against the counter. She looks Hunter up and down, but he feels comfortable under her gaze.

"Credit for your thoughts." She says, breaking the silence.

Hunter's brow wrinkles. "About what?"

"Whatever is on your mind." Bryn says with a shrug. "I know you've taken your squad on training missions, but this is your first true field assignment, how are you feeling? I think your team is ready, but do you? Is there anything I should know about them now before we land? What do you think of the ship, of me?"

"Ahuh, em. I don't really know, General." He crosses his arms. "Us clones, we were bred to withstand stressful environments, me and my squad even more so. I know we're ready, they're probably more excited than anything. The long necks coveted us, their precious enhanced units. While we had space to experiment in training, they kept us on short reins otherwise. Meant that we also got heat from the regs for the extra attention. At first we tried to get along with them, but after a while we just got sick of it. We're better on our own."

Bryn nods along to Hunter's story, some of the elements all too familiar to her. "That's a shame, I understand your experience more than you would think. I am very impressed with you and your squad, Sergeant Hunter."

He bows his head. "Thank you, General. We were uh- I mean we are impressed by you... too."

Bryn chuckles, turning around to remove the saucers from on top of the mugs. "In what way?"

Hunter rubs the back of his neck, a slight blush spreading across his nose. "There were quite a few stories that came back to Kamino about 'Caro and Kenobi' and your involvement with the first droid attack on Naboo. And your efforts with the start of the Separatist Crisis and the Battle of Geonosis. Then there's the stories of your involvement in the first months of the war. Sometimes Tech would pull up the debriefing holovids from your early assignments.  You're an impressive fighter and battle strategist. We didn't know which Jedi was being assigned to us. There last thing we expected was that you'd chose to take us on."

Bryn stirs each mug, smiling. "You'll see soon enough that I'm full of surprises, Sergeant." She gives him a wink before sliding the Gatalenta tea his way. "Let me know what you think. That one you generally drink it how it is, no cream or sugar."

Hunter takes a sip and makes a face, which he immediately tries to correct.

Bryn just laughs at his expression. "I'll take that as a no."

"Oh no, it's just uh- different." Hunter says hurriedly.

"It's okay," Bryn says with a smile. "I think this will be more to your liking. Here's the cream and sugar just in case." She slides the Moogan tea towards him, taking the Gatalenta tea for herself.

Hunter raises to second mug to his lips, savoring the flavor for a moment. It's like nothing he's ever tasted, warm, spicy like sinnamon. He sets the mug down and adds some cream and sugar before taking another sip. He hums with satisfaction.

"Seems like that's the one." Bryn says, turning to rest her hip against the counter. "So, Hunter. Crosshair."

Hunter takes another sip. "Hmm, what about him?"

"I understand it will take time and patience for him to trust me as a person, but I'm concerned if there is friction within this team, there will be consequences." Bryn lifts her mug again. "I've seen what that can look like. If, or more likely when it comes down to it, will he trust me as the General of this squad?"

The Sergeant sets down his mug and pulls a vibroblade from his bracer. Twirling it through his fingers, he considers Bryn's question. "It may not seem like it, but Crosshair gives trust until there is a reason not to. He'll still question your every move, but that's because he's searching for grounds to shut you out. So to answer your question, yes, he will trust you, but if he decides you've broken that trust, don't expect it to be easy to get a second chance."

"Mm, that is a philosophy I can respect. Duly noted, Sergeant." She raises her mug and Hunter slips the blade back into his bracer, lifting his own drink. Bryn clinks her mug against Hunters, "Here's to a prosperous partnership. I promise I will do everything in my power to get you and your brothers to the other side of this war."

Hunter smiles and drinks to Bryn's toast. "Thank you, General." He pauses for a moment. "If you don't mind me asking, when you were with the 43rd, what was your call sign?"

Bryn swirls her tea. "My legion was designated Khaos, my Elite Regiment was Erebus, and my Lead Squad's call sign was Nyx."

"Caro's Khaos?" Hunter says with a sly smile.

Bryn chuckles, "Caught onto that did you? The names come from ancient Grecoian mythology.  According to the legends, Khaos was the first being to come into existence, his son was Erebus- the darkness, and his daughter was Nyx- the night." She smiles at some invisible memories. "You know, we need to come up with a call sign for this squad, any ideas?"

"Hmm, well this ship is the Havoc Marauder." Hunter says, rubbing his chin. "What if our call sign was Havoc? It could also be for your men, you know, chaos comes before the havoc."

Bryn smiles, "You know what, I like it. Havoc it is."

Hunter straightens up and rests a hand on Bryn's shoulder. "Thanks for the tea, Havoc Prime."

"Prime?" Bryn repeats.

"You're the first, our leader, no?" Hunter replies striding out the door with a grin plastered across his face.

A warm feeling flutters in Bryn's chest at her Sergeant's exit. She steps back into the galley, but Crosshair is the only one present, Hunter must have disappeared into the cockpit or elsewhere on the ship. Bryn lowers herself into one of the databank seats opposite Crosshair in the jumpseats. She tucks a foot underneath her and takes a sip of her steaming mug. Silence falls over the two of them as Crosshair continues oiling a piece of his disassembled rifle.

Bryn cocks her head to the side, observing the various components neatly laid to in front of the sniper. "Overcharged capacitor, fine-tuned beam focuser, recoil compensating stock. You've made quite a few customizations. I'm impressed, you have good taste."

Crosshair raises his eyes to her, scowl already forming. "What do you know about firearms?"

Bryn smiles and sets her mug down on the databank behind her. "More than you'd expect. There have been quite a few stints in my life where I've had to depend on weapons other than a lightsaber."

"Hmph. We'll see what you know." Crosshair says. He picks up a component and holds it out to Bryn. "What's this."

Bryn's eyes narrow. "Very funny, that's your scope."

Crosshair picks up another component, "and this?"

Bryn just rolls her eyes. "That's your suppressor. If you're trying to test me, you're not doing a very good job." She teases.

The sniper puts down the suppressor and his hand hovers for a moment. He reaches to the far corner of the mat his components are on and picks up an inconspicuous metal tube, holding it up without saying a word.

"That's part of your venting system, which by the way is not optimal." Bryn says plainly, holding out a hand. "May I?"

Crosshair's eyes narrow even further, but he still hands over the piece of metal.

Bryn grabs a pair of pliers off the floor and begins fiddling. "Although the firepuncher is one of the best laser weapons issued through the GAR, there are still a few ways to get a little more out of them. I had one of my own for a while. I figured out that if you remove the metal mesh from inside here, your weapon vents faster. The mesh is supposed to protect against foreign bodies entering the system, but the risk is minimal without it especially with regular maintenance. The faster venting increases the rate of fire by about 5 shots a second." With one last tug, the little bit of mesh pulls free.

With a smile she tosses the vent component back to Crosshair, whose mouth is hanging slightly open. He blinks. "Uh, thanks. I never knew."

Bryn looks at him earnestly. "Give me a chance, Crosshair. I promise I am here for you and your brothers. I chose this, others may have treated you like a chore, an experiment, or a possession to be had, but that's not me. You are my men now, and I will protect this squad with my last breath."

His face softens slightly, if at all. The toothpick between his lips rolls from one corner of his mouth to the other, but before he says anything, the cockpit door slides open.

"General, where are the rations? I'm starving!" Wrecker's booming voice says.

Bryn laughs, standing from her chair. "Come on Wrecker, I have something better than rations."

She leads the way back into the mess locker and opens the cryobox. As Wrecker walks through the door, he sees the multiple containers Bryn has set on the counter.

"What's all this?" he asks.

"Just some food I cooked up for us." Bryn says, straightening up and placing a container in the ration warmer.

Wrecker's eyes widen. "You can cook?"

Bryn chuckles, "Yes, one of the perks to being a Jedi, I have access to records from all over the galaxy, including recipes. This, however is a dish native to Takodanna."

She pulls the first container from the warmer and swaps it with a second one. As soon as she takes the lid off, steam lifts into the air. Wrecker takes a deep inhale of the rich flavors rising from the food. "Ah, this smells amazing! What is it?"

"Funnily enough, it's stew." Bryn says, laughing. "Hopefully this is better than the stuff from the mess hall on Kamino. This has bantha roast, potatoes, carrots, onions, and a few other things. It's simple, but it's good comfort food, and it's filling. Go ahead, give it a try."

She hands Wrecker a spoon as she switches containers from the ration warmer again. The large clone takes a heaping spoonful and nearly groans in delight. "General, this... This is incredible."

"I'm glad you like it, luckily I made a bunch and have it frozen so we can have it to break up the ration packs." Bryn says, waving a hand to the cryobox. "It's simple to make too. Most of the recipes I use are. Though I love trying new intricate things, you can't always guarantee specific ingredients or supplies, so comfort camp food is my specialty."

There's silence as Wrecker continues eating. Even though his movements are vigorous, he eats neatly, refusing to spill a single speck. Bryn smiles as she swaps containers again and pulls out four more spoons.

Wrecker pauses for a moment, halfway through the container. "Uh General..."

"Hmm?"

"Do you- do you think you could teach me?" Wrecker asks, shifting his weight between his feet. "You know, how to cook?"

A grin spreads across Bryn's face, "Of course Wrecker. I would love to." She places a fifth container in the warmer. "You'll have to be patient with me though, I don't really measure my ingredients."

Wrecker's face lights up. "Really? You'll teach me?! All right!"

Bryn touches a hand to his arm as she squeezes past him to the mess locker door. She pokes her head out and calls to the ship. "Dinner's up, Boys! Come and get it!"

Taglist: if you want to be added please let me know!

[the-baddest-of-batches]

Chapter Twenty: Nemesis (Sneak Peek)

18 BBY the Malevolent

The Grand Moff Sharn waits for me on the bridge. He's surrounded by three of the newer troopers. From their heights I get the sense they're not clones. One is shorter. Once the decom bill came, so did the rumors we were going to be replaced.

Kamino is gone. Future clones will not be possible. This is only natural, I suppose.

"Sir," I salute as casually as I would for anyone. He can call me on it and see if I care. I'm only here to do my job.

"Lieutenant, welcome aboard the Malevolent."

I've heard a similar name before. Old Separatist ship, I think, used to be a major terror back in the early days when I was still in training armor. The irony is not lost on me and I smirk.

The Moff catches it and hints at a smile of his own. "We are housing here an early operation. An extension of the old intelligence division of the Republic. Our forces will of course be civilian but still highly skilled, and trained. You may consider yourself something of a...special recruit." The Moff turns and faces the bridge. "I have arranged quarters for you, though I advise you not to grow comfortable. You will be deployed once you are read in. Speaking of which, I have an officer waiting for you on that matter. She will meet you in the briefing room."

With a glance back, the Moff waves his hand dismissively. "I am grateful you decided to join us."

"Thank you, sir."

"Dismissed."

I turn and about face for the door. A new operation? I know the Republic had plenty of intel agents who went undercover. Harder for us clones seeing as we all look the same, but I feel something of an honor at being recognized. I'm grateful I can keep playing my role.

#

18 BBY Cassic Base

The Captain on the ground is to my surprise, an older clone than me named Haywire. He walks through the base with me in tow. It's sparsely populated. Most everyone I can see are other clones in and out of uniform and a few locals who give sideways glances. There's an air of hatred in the air that I haven't felt in a long time.

"I don't know why you'd want to come here," Haywire says as we walk through the open air part of the base. There's some boarded up buildings and a few sleazy bars. It looks like the base gates are kept under guard, even during the day.

"I was informed the locals were providing resistance. I'm here to...report on it." I look around.

Haywire shrugs. "It's about the same everywhere. Didn't used to be this bad, though. These people once respected us."

"Seems like a lot has changed."

"I blame that other planet," the Captain's sneer can be heard in his voice. "I think seeing their sister planet locked in war turned their hearts. You know Cassic's sister planet was Separatist back in the day, right?"

I nod. "So what have you noticed about the region recently?"

"Myself? Well aside from the hostility, it seems like something big is brewing out there. A couple of supply ships vanished a while back. Weapons supply, but we haven't found any armed civilians. Got some odd blips off the radar a few weeks back too. Nothing we can confirm, but still, something is going on."

I nod. We stop near the gate and the two guards salute the Captain. Beyond that I can see what can only be described as a dying city. A woman, likely in her thirties, catches sight of us. The glare she gives us both would be enough to stop a laser bolt in its tracks. Beside her trails a small boy in tattered clothes. He clings to her side.

"These people don't realize that we're here to protect them," the Captain says. "They're suffering, and they think it's righteous."

"I will add that to my report."

"Please let me know if I can provide any further assistance."

I look back at him. "A speeder bike. That's all I need."

Haywire nods. "I'll arrange it."

I look back out at the city. The woman is gone, but her glare remains. The Captain is right. Something out there is happening, something bad.

#

Dust kicks up behind the speeder. Inside the city people glance my way, but do not make any move to actually regard my presence. They truly hate me. I skirt the streets anyway, looking for anything suspicious. The only issue is everything is suspicious.

My maps indicate that there's another major city not far from here. No base there, just a smaller outpost. According to the intel sent to me after our briefing there were two riots over in that city. The outcome was most of the troopers returning to base. I need concrete proof that the Separatists are here, though.

I reach the outpost and find it deserted. But getting inside is easy with my credentials. A few squatters are scattered around. Most of them glance at me with bloodshot eyes. There's less hostility and more exhaustion and a trend I'm noticing. Many have their faces covered up to their eyes.

I think this place was well known to be subject to rather large dust storms. There's a slew of fields not far off.

I just need to cover my face, and–I look at my armor–I can do something about that.

A small inspection of the interior rooms confirms power was cut off to the base. In the main comms room I find a man sitting in the command chair, sleeping. Walking up beside him, I level my blaster set to stun and shake him.

He starts. Almost screams, and goes silent as his eyes lock onto my blaster. His hands lift slowly.

"Tell me, what do you know about the recent riots here?" I demand.

His lips part, close, and he swallows hard. "Nuthin! Honest."

I scan his lanky frame. He's been put out for a while. "When did it start?"

"I-I dunno."

"If you don't know, who might?"

He trembles. "Look, sir, uh, I–sir, please. I don't know anything. I'm just looking for shelter for my head."

"You live here, right?"

"I...yeah."

"Then you've noticed something. I know you're not blind."

His adam's apple bobs and he shrinks back. "Can you...point that thing elsewhere?"

Lifting my blaster, I keep only my glare trained on him. "Spill it."

He winds his fingers together and bows his weathered head. "Look, I ain't exactly involved in anything. But I heard whispers. A place on the edge of town. They got...strangers. People from that other planet, and they said," guilt flashes in his eyes. "They said they can make us free."

"Free?"

"From," he gestured to me. "Ya know."

I look around the room. His mask is sitting on the console, thrown there unceremoniously. I keep my blaster raised and walk over there. "I'm going to need any clothing you own."

"I'm wearing all of it..."

"Doesn't matter." I grab the mask and level the blaster back at him. "This is for something a lot bigger than you." Next chapter coming soon...6/16!

Read on Wattpad

Read on AO3 NOTE: I once again screwed up the posting schedule because I'm sick this week, so this will have part two posted tomorrow, but all of the chapters are up and ready to read across all the platforms, hence why I linked here.

[wanderinginksplot]

Rex + Engineer!Reader

This is the prequel to the Rex + Blanket Fort + Kisses one-shot found here on my masterlist. As this is a prequel to that story, you don't need to have read it for this to make sense. And as you could probably tell from the picture, this takes place during the Onderon arc.

Rex x gn!reader: intended to be early romance, but could be read as platonic.

Word Count: a bit more than 3,400

Warnings: canon-typical violence, including spoilers for the Onderon arc (S 5, E 2-5) of Star Wars: The Clone Wars

---

"And Captain Rex will train everyone in the encampment on basic combat skills and maneuvers," General Skywalker announced.

You didn't pay overly much attention to that. The general was younger than you had anticipated, but he was clearly used to combat and had the kind of authority usually honed through commanding large groups of soldiers. Still, you knew his order didn't apply to you and moved to slip away from the area. Your schematics needed a lot more work before the rebels could attack without bringing buildings down.

"And where are you running off to?" a muscular man with light hair asked, stepping into your path.

You gave a tight smile. "Classified, sorry."

The man nodded toward the general. "General Skywalker says everyone needs combat training."

"Oh, not me," you reassured him. "I'm a contracted engineer, not one of the Rebels. I'm just here to make sure they destroy as little of the infrastructure as possible while they take back control."

"And do you live in the encampment?" he asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling sure this was a trap. Eventually, you gave a short nod.

"Then you'll be training with me," he said firmly. "Captain Rex, 501st Legion."

You reluctantly shook the hand he offered and introduced yourself, finishing with, "-but I'm strictly an engineer."

"We're worried that this isn't likely to end without one or several attacks on this encampment," the captain told you. "A few hours of training could save your life."

"And a few hours of work on the city's schematics could save the lives of countless civilians," you argued. Sending that he would continue trying to convince you, you shook your head. "The Gerrera siblings are the ones who hired me. I'll let them make the final choice."

"And I'll leave it to the Generals," Captain Rex agreed.

Clearly not taking chances, he marched off toward where Steela Gerrera and Lux Bonteri were talking with Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, as well as a Togrutan female you vaguely remembered as being a commander.

"Generals, Commander," Captain Rex greeted with a crisp salute. You rolled your eyes. Soldiers. "We were hoping you could settle a difference of opinion."

"A difference of opinion?" General Kenobi repeated with a frown.

"What opinion would that be, Rex?" General Skywalker asked.

The captain explained the situation while you stood in silence. Steela met your gaze at several points during the conversation, looking concerned each time.

"We're only here to train the rebels," General Skywalker said after Captain Rex had finished talking. "Not anyone else."

"All of us are rebels," Steela argued, ignoring your signals that you didn't want training at all. "Just by being here in opposition to the Separatist forces, we are all considered a threat to their power."

"A contracted employee is different than someone who joined your cause because they believe in it," the commander countered, wrinkling her nose. "We aren't offering training to mercenaries."

"We're talking about an engineer, not someone hired to perform assassinations," Lux contributed. "What could it hurt?"

"Generals, Commander," Rex said, his quiet voice somehow drawing their attention. "I think every member of the rebel group needs to be trained. I think it's important."

"Rex…" General Kenobi sighed, but Skywalker interrupted before he could expand on his thoughts.

"I trust Rex's instincts," he told the older general. "If he thinks everyone needs to be trained, we'll make it happen."

You made a frustrated noise before you could stop yourself. "I don't need training. I'm an engineer. I don't work in combat situations."

"That's the thing about combat," Skywalker said with a shrug. "You don't always have to look for it. Sometimes, it comes to you. Especially in wartime."

The group split up immediately afterward, seemingly having come to an agreement. You followed Steela, determined to make your case and get back to your schematics.

"Steela, you know I'm not here for fighting," you said, jogging to catch up to the young woman who had hired you. "It isn't part of my contract."

"It isn't, you're right," she agreed. "But I would think carefully before I turned down a chance to learn such a valuable skill considering how dangerous the galaxy is right now. Surely this could be helpful as a freelancer traveling the universe alone?"

You didn't have an immediate answer to that. Steela clearly noticed, nodding solemnly at you before turning away. "The choice is yours to make."

You gritted your teeth, but your feet refused to move from the spot. To your left was the strategic tent and your unfinished set of schematics. To the right, the Jedi were helping the rebels set up some kind of training ring.

"Well?" a voice prompted. You already recognized it as belonging to Rex.

You stood still for a beat longer before giving a loud and heartfelt groan as you turned toward the freshly constructed training ring.

---

You were bad at fighting.

It wasn't really a shock to you. You had never been particularly graceful or good on your feet. That was why engineering had been such a draw - all mental work, almost no physical.

Rex, to his credit, turned out to be a surprisingly good teacher. He had kept everyone basically together as they learned new skills and practiced as a group. Still, he was determined that you would learn to defend yourself and here you were, fighting to shoot targets in the dying light, long after everyone else had scattered.

"I'm sorry," you apologized yet again as you missed. You were half an hour into intensive shooting lessons with Rex and you had yet to hit a single target.

"You don't need to apologize," he assured. "We'll just keep working until you get it down."

"I don't know if I can," you admitted, lowering the heavily modified blaster pistol until it was resting on the table in front of you. "We're losing the light and it's a bad idea to illuminate any more of the jungle than we have to."

"That's true," Rex agreed, rubbing at his neck while he studied the unharmed target. After a moment, he took the blaster pistol from your hands and holstered it at his side, then removed the holster belt as well.

You nodded sympathetically, hoping you could call it a night and put in a few hours of work on your schematics so the day wouldn't be a total waste.

Rex sighed, removing the subtly armored jacket he had been wearing during that day's training. "I guess we'll… we'll just have to switch to something less impacted by visibility."

"Wait, what?" you had time to ask before the stoic captain flat-out tackled you.

You were aware enough to know that Captain Rex had twisted to take part of the impact himself, but you still hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. In that moment of hollow gasping, Rex had pushed you onto your stomach and pinned your hands behind your back.

"The first rule of unarmed conflict is that you can't let anyone surprise you." Rex paused for a moment. "Actually, that's the first rule of any kind of conflict."

"Is the second rule that you shouldn't suffocate your sparring partner?" you croaked out, turning your head slightly so your face wasn't actively being pressed into the dirt anymore.

Rex laughed. It was the first time you had heard anything other than firm orders from him and you paused. It was a nice laugh. You were forced to gather your thoughts a moment later as he released you and helped you to your feet.

"You probably won't see a lot of hand-to-hand fighting with droids, but the armies aren't capable of anything beyond following orders. The armies are commanded by sentients, and those sentients are often closer to the armies than you would think."

"I have no intention of going after Grievous without a weapon," you joked. "Preferably more than one."

"You should stay away from Grievous no matter how many weapons you have," Rex advised. "But this is good to know, anyway."

"Actually, I agree with that," you said, surprising you both. "I'm a freelancer. Anything that helps me defend myself in a potentially hostile situation is a good thing."

"Okay, let's work on your hits, then," Rex suggested.

What followed was two full hours of unarmed combat practice. Rex was always the target, letting you throw punches and kicks against his open palms. When he realized that you were pulling your strikes because you were afraid to hurt him, he found a padded guard among the assortment of equipment the Republic had sent along.

Eventually, though, you were panting and bone-tired. Rex seemed to realize that without you saying anything.

"One last set of strikes and you're done for the night," Rex told you. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to you.

But as you punched, Rex moved the guard you had been aiming for. You shot him a look, but he only held the guard up, wiggling it slightly. You set up again, but Rex pulled away at the last second, dodging your fist to bop you on the shoulder with the guard.

"What are you doing?" you asked, exasperated. "You said this was the last set."

"It is. Or, it will be as soon as you actually manage to make contact."

You grimaced at him. This time, when he twisted the guard away, you turned with it. You were focused on keeping your footwork correct and your hit strong. You never even saw him move his foot between your ankles, but with a light tug, you were on the ground again.

"Seriously?" you asked from your spot in the dirt.

Rex laughed again, and this time, you didn't enjoy the sound at all. "Do you think your opponents are going to stand there and let you hit them? They're going to fight dirty - they always do. You just need to-"

As it happens, you never did learn what you needed to do. Rex had stepped too close, and your engineering experience told you that his ankles were at an angle that made him vulnerable to a hit. You kicked his ankle lightly, barely making contact, but it was enough to send one of his feet careening against the other. Rex stumbled, failed to regain his balance, and fell.

All of this was done on instinct and you felt as surprised as Rex looked when he landed on his butt in the dirt next to you.

"Good job," he said, breathless but sincere.

"Thanks," you accepted with a grin. "Does that mean I surprised you?"

"Not a bit," he denied, deflating your ego a bit. "I knew you were capable of it. You're an engineer. Engineers like angles and math. That's all combat is, adjusted for whatever you think the other side is going to do."

"Wait, that's… that's a really good point," you mused slowly. "Can I see your pistol again?"

Rex didn't move. "If you shoot me, you'll surprise me in the wrong way."

You snorted. "I'm not planning on shooting you, Captain. I just want to test how the application of math might help me."

After eyeing you for a moment, Rex stood in an enviably graceful motion and hauled you to your feet as well. Wordlessly, he handed you one of his blaster pistols. He had warned you before you began shooting that he had made numerous alterations to them, but you were still surprised by the weight of the weapon in your hand.

This time, instead of relying on instinct - point, aim, shoot - you worked to apply some logic. When you were sure about your angle, you squeezed the hyper-sensitive trigger and watched the resulting beam of weaponized light hit the target.

It wasn't a perfect shot, of course. Math couldn't fix everything. Still, you had hit the target and you cheered aloud, echoed by Rex's congratulations behind you. You had the presence of mind to set the pistol down before you turned, then Rex was grasping your forearm in the odd way warriors shook hands.

"Great job!" he told you warmly. "You're getting better."

"Thanks," you accepted, trying to vocalize your gratitude. You probably could have been offended by the tone of surprise in his voice, but you chose to overlook it.

"Now we just have to dial in your aim and get you comfortable with firing at moving targets, especially during chaotic situations."

Despite your best efforts, you felt your expression fall at that. Rex laughed again. When had he gotten so cheerful? "I'm kidding. That can be done tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" you repeated doubtfully.

Rex folded his arms across his chest and stared at you steadily. "In one session, you've gone from unable to shoot a gun or throw a punch to knocking me down and hitting a target. If you can keep that pace of improvement, you'll be a force to be reckoned with."

"Or at least be able to stop clients who try to cop a feel," you added.

Despite his darkening expression, Rex's tone was unconcerned. "I'm sure you could break the hand of any di'kut dumb enough to try it now. With some training, you'd be able to tear that hand off completely."

And so you continued to train with Rex after everyone else had finished learning to disable tanks and other intense activities. During the day, you finalized schematics, studying holoimages of Onderon’s capital city of Iziz. Your goal was to record your best guesses for the most and least structurally-sound sections of the city.

The dedication the rebels showed for the safety of the Onderonian people was a big reason you had agreed to take this job. Despite what the Jedi seemed to think, you weren't actually a mercenary. You chose your jobs very carefully, and if something didn't match your morals, you would respectfully decline.

Between schematic work in the day and training at night, your time with the rebels flew past. Captain Rex continued to be patient and helpful as you worked to master the combat moves he taught you - ones decidedly more focused on self-defense than the moves he taught the rebels. The first day you had beaten him in a grappling situation, he had beamed up at you with dirt on his face and told you how far you had progressed. The squeezing of your heart at the praise warned that it was probably good that the captain and both Jedi generals were withdrawing from Onderon shortly, leaving Commander Tano to assist with the remaining rebel efforts.

Despite your determination to stay out of the conflict, you had eventually been forced into it when the Separatist armies had attacked the rebel base. One of the rebels you had known by appearance if not by name had been hit by blaster fire before he could use the rocket launcher held in his hands. He had held it up to you, begging with his eyes that you take out the ship that had fired on him before it could do more damage.

You had accepted, and the ship was a roiling ball of flame before you could make yourself nervous about shooting anything other than Rex’s now-familiar blasters. You tossed aside the rocket launcher and found a discarded blaster. From that point until the combat had ended, thoughts of schematics or building solidity were gone from your head. You were as much a part of the rebel group as anyone else, and you watched with the same horror as Steela Gerrera fell to her death, despite the best efforts of Commander Tano.

The funeral was lovely. Onderonians didn’t believe in mourning for their dead. Instead, they truly celebrated all that the departed had done to create a better society… and Steela had done a great deal.

When things had ended, you were sitting on a raised set of stairs overlooking the ceremonial area. The dais holding Steela’s cloth-draped casket was filled with people far too important for you to bother. You were glad to see Saw speaking with King Dendup. After he had handed you the agreed-upon payment for your services - despite your many attempts to refuse the credits - Saw had left, ignoring the sympathy you tried to offer. He needed to speak with someone, and if that someone was the man he and Steela had worked so hard to save, so much the better.

“Nice ceremony, huh?” someone asked from behind you, and you twisted a bit to find General Skywalker standing there with Captain Rex beside him.

You nodded, but you could feel that it was a half-hearted motion. “Steela was so young. She had a lot of promise.”

“She died fulfilling the mission she set out to finish,” Captain Rex countered. “She knew the risks and thought Dendup was worth it. Her choices were her own. All we can do is respect them.”

With a joyless smile, you said, “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“It never does,” General Skywalker admitted, sitting next to you. Rex’s comlink chimed and he stepped a respectful distance away before answering it.

Skywalker sat beside you in silence for a while. Normally, you would speak first just for sake of politeness, but you weren’t feeling that generous. You let the silence linger while you watched the activity on the dais.

“Have you ever thought about using your talents for the Republic?” the general asked eventually.

“I thought I was a soulless mercenary?” you asked before you could think better of it.

“And I thought you didn’t work in combat situations,” Skywalker countered. “But I’ve seen the battlefield recordings. You handled yourself well.”

You glanced over at him in surprise. “Are you trying to contract me on as a soldier?”

“Force, no,” he denied quickly. “As an engineer. I sent samples of your work to a friend of mine who works as an engineer in the private sector and they were impressed. The GAR is struggling to find good engineers comfortable working in combat. The pay is a bit lower than you’re used to, but it’s steady work.”

Ah, he had cut straight to the heart of your problem with freelancing. The fight to survive between jobs meant that anything extra you were making was eaten up by the time you were hired on again. And your morals meant that jobs weren’t nearly as frequent as you would like them to be. But being in constant combat… Yes, you had survived this time, but that didn’t mean you were rushing to repeat the experience.

You grimaced. “I appreciate the offer, really, but I don’t know if it’s for me. Combat engineering isn’t really my specialty.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short,” General Skywalker told you seriously. “I’ve seen samples of your past work, and a lot of it is on worlds that have a lot of fighting. I’m sure you know that none of your structures have sustained extreme damage, no matter how much combat was happening around them. That’s an impressive record.”

“You researched me?” you asked, feeling a little stunned.

“Well, the Republic likes to know who they’re hiring. But honestly, I’m not the one who did the research,” Skywalker said, looking past you. You followed his gaze to Rex, who was suddenly very intently looking at his comlink. With a mischievous grin, the general added, “I think my captain has taken a liking to you.”

You fought back a grin, turning away from the captain, and your eyes fell on Steela’s casket once more. Suddenly, keeping a straight face wasn’t as much of a struggle. “If I said yes, what would my official job duties be?”

“You would oversee a group of construction experts - both civilian and enlisted - using maps and satellite footage to find the best possible choices for locations to build bases, bridges, or other structures to help us complete campaigns,” he answered easily. “Preferably, to win campaigns, but that’s more on us than you.”

“And would I work with your group?”

“The 501st?” Skywalker asked, sounding surprised. “I’m not sure, but probably. We’re a planetary landing battalion, so we always need someone who has the knowledge of places to build. You might have to stay behind on some planets to supervise base construction, but you could always catch back up with us. Is that something you would want?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “If I did agree to that-”

“I’m no good at negotiations,” he interrupted with a self-deprecating smile. “You speak clearly about what you want and I’ll do what I can.”

“I’ll work for the Republic,” you said, feeling the nerves twist in your belly. “If you can make sure I’m permanently attached to the 501st.”

“Deal,” General Skywalker accepted immediately, holding his hand out for you to shake. “Welcome to the 501st.”

---

A/N - I assure you that there is no timeline of any sort happening in my writing, so don't think too hard about where this should fit into the narrative. It won't end well.

Thanks for reading!

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[wr1t3-my-wr0ngs]

Good Soldiers—Chapter 3/4

Remembering Yesterday’s Tomorrow (In the Here and Now)- Part 4 cont.

As much as Rex wants to move directly onto the next step in removing Krell, there is still a war that needs to be dealt with. Having Fives in his corner helps immensely as both a sounding board and support. It has taken a weight off his shoulders that he is infinitely glad he no longer has to shoulder alone. However, he had forgotten the specific brand of insanity that comes from working with his brothers, and while he is happy (among the other emotions that swirl dangerously close to the surface) to have them in his life again, it does, at times, make him wish his hair was longer so he could pull it out. Especially as he, Jesse, Tup, and Hardcase listen to Fives' infiltration plan.

"You want to what?"

He knows his plan to deal with Krell isn't perfect, but he hopes beyond all sense of reason that it's better then what he just heard Fives suggest.

"Have the men and myself fly the Umbaran craft into the supply ship and blow up the main reactor."

Last time, he hadn't asked for details. The thinking being he couldn't report what he didn't know. If this was the same plan that Fives had used to take down the supply ship, Rex knows why it went so horribly wrong.

"You are aware that General Skywalker was already one of the best pilots in the galaxy at that time? And that most of it was an accident?"

His brother looks sheepish. From his perch atop a table, Rex pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. Despite knowing the answer, he asks his next question anyway.

"How many men are you planning to take up?"

"It would be us three, Sir."

Rex looks at Jesse who has momentarily looked up from cleaning his blaster to indicate Fives, Hardcase, and himself. The Captain unconsciously brings a hand up to stroke a beard that isn't there, thinking over the specifics that he was privy to the first time around — regretting his lack of involvement and the subsequent lack of information.

“If you have a better plan, we’re all ears.”

He thinks of Ahsoka, of her uncanny ability (force given or natural, he never knew) to plan on the fly. To take a pile of unknowns and somehow rearrange them until they created actionable intel. There was a reason she was one of the leaders of the Rebellion, and he, her right-hand-man.

But she's not here. Surrounded by a room of living ghosts, the only thing he has of her is his ring and the memories of advice they had shared. One in particular whispers across his mind.

Work with what you know.

So that’s what he does.

He thinks about the Separatist ships he's been on. The narrow passages designed for droids and not much else. Considers the size and challenges of the Umbaran crafts. Three would be a tight squeeze and tricky to maneuver in such a limited space, even with the best of pilots, never mind when operated by foot soldiers who considered demolishing a hanger a successful test run.

"Send only one pilot."

"Without backup?"

Tups concern is valid, a brother without backup was always a dangerous thing, for the mission and the soldier both. But he doesn't have a better plan, not one that would work with their limited number of men, resources, and time. He can only pray that what he can change will be enough.

Rex leaves that part out when he explains his thinking, although Fives gives him a brief side-eye. He watches as each man mulls over the idea, weighs the pros and the cons, considers their part.

"I'll do it."

His heart sinks.

"The Captains right, and I have the most experience with the tech."

"Hardcase, " He isn't sure what to say without giving himself away to everyone in the room. When he had first woken and started putting together his plan, he had considered that there may be things he couldn’t change, couldn’t make right. Hardcase it would seem, is one of those things. A knot of emotion catches in his chest as he considers the very real possibility of watching his brother's death a second time over. Eventually, he settles on the only question available to him.

“Are you sure?”

His brother squares his shoulders, easy-going manner set aside.

“I am, Captain.”

The room is silent for a moment, heavy with the knowledge that this very well may end up a suicide mission.

"What about—"

At that moment the doors to the barracks open, cutting Jesse off mid-sentence, revealing Dogma, head bent over a datapad and lips silently moving.

The collective group freezes, including Dogma who seems to realize he has the full attention of everyone in the room. His head snaps up and eyes go wide, jaw clicking shut, and for a second Rex thinks he can see fear in his brother's eyes. But his time to observe is limited, as Dogma, without so much as a word, about faces and leaves the room with the speed of a man being chased by cannon fire.

The group exchange glances and all Rex can do is shrug at the inquiring look Fives sends his way, just as stumped by his brothers behavior as the rest of them. He had expected suspicion and anger, or even the cold shoulder. Those he could understand, but fear?

He shakes himself internally. His concerns about Dogma hardly the top of his priorities at the moment.

"What about Krell?" Jesse repeats, looking between Fives and Rex in equal measure.

"We need a Jedi."

Hardcase scoffs and crosses his arms.

"Yeah, I don't know if you noticed Captain, but they're in short supply."

"I'm just saying that his ability to receive transmissions with new orders is awfully convenient, considering they're supposed to be being jammed."

Jesse looks up from cleaning his blaster with a critical eye.

"You think he's lying about communications with the 212th?"

Rex nods.

"It's a possibility. And it won't hurt to try and get General Kenobi here to assist."

"I think, " Tup starts slowly. "That I might be able to convince a few of the men to try and establish contact against orders. No promises, though."

Rex looks over to Fives, who nods in agreement.

"That's all we can ask for Tup."

Tup inclines his head at the ARC Trooper.

"And what if, and that's a karking large if mind you, we can't get the General to assist?"

Rex sighs.

"Plan B and prey."

----

Dogma was acting strange.

Usually, Tup wouldn't have paid much attention to his brother's odd habits. But he had never seen him that upset before or that close to exchanging blows with another brother. He understands Dogma's anger; he does. Is still reeling from the implications himself, even though nothing he heard really surprised him when he thought about it. But he also understands, as best as he can understand his brother, why it would affect Dogma more than the rest. He’s aware that he is the closest to Dogma, one of the few Vod’e who took the time to get to know the tightly wound trooper. And as a result, is far more used to the quirks of behavior than most and has learned to read Dogma with some degree of accuracy.

But he’s not sure what to make of his brother's recent behavior; walking into rooms, only to turn back around when he spots any of them, constantly reading at every available opportunity. Not that Dogma hadn’t done his share of recreational reading, but this was something different. The few times Tup had found him in the past hours, Dogma seemed to be enthralled, reading as if his life depended on it.

And now he is missing from his bunk.

It feels like avoidance, but never in his short life has Tup known Dogma to do anything less than face a problem head-on.

It concerns him, for Dogmas sake. His one consolation being that he knows his brother would ask for help if he needed it.

Whatever it is Dogma is up to, he only hopes it won't cause a problem for the Captain.

-----

Watching the sky for the impending destruction of the Separatist ship is by far the tensest twenty minutes of Rex’s life, and he intends to spend them with his eyes glued to the sky as if he might be able to see the raging space battle and the one small ship that contains his brother if he looks hard enough. Futile, he knows, but it's all he can do. The troops mill around him, coming and going at their own paces, running information back to the main tower, or just enjoying what rest they can in the middle of a war zone. At some point, Fives joins him.

"Any word?"

"Not yet, Captain."

"Any sign that Krell suspects?"

Fives shakes his head.

"No, Sir. I don't know what you told him about the takeoff, but he doesn't seem suspicious."

Rex didn't expect he would be, since he's almost certain that Krell knows what they are doing despite the lie Rex had fed him. Suspects that Krell knew the first time too, and that everything that followed was designed to torture himself and the men as much as possible.

They laps into silence and Rex returns his focus to the sky.

"Permission to ask a question?"

Rex glances at his brother, gauging the request.

"Granted."

"How did this mission go, last time?"

Fives is looking at him, but Rex can't meet his eyes and hopes that his brother will let the topic go with a simple answer.

"It was a success,"

"Rex, " The plea is soft, and it strikes him how much younger his brother is; the gap between them able to be measured in decades instead of a few years. Aware that behind the bravado and the swagger, Fives is as scared as Rex, wondering if he just sent his brother to his death.

He's hesitant to talk about it, the memories from Umbara old wounds that never fully healed. The sound of distant artillery and shelling only hammers home the futility of attempting to avoid them.

"I wasn't as involved last time, didn't really condone the course of action. I don't know what went wrong exactly, but from what I gathered something happened to sound the alarm, and the Seppies raised the ray shield around the main reactor. It had to be detonated by hand."

"Which brother...?"

"Hardcase."

The inhale of breath is sharp, and its what makes Rex finally look at his vod'ika, sees the pain in his eyes.

"Fives, I'm sorry."

"He knows the risks."

Rex isn't sure who the phrase is trying to console, Fives, or himself. He reaches out a hand to the back of his brother's neck, gently bringing their foreheads together. He can feel his little brother tremble ever so slightly under his touch, and he gives what he hopes is a comforting squeeze. They stay like that until the Captain feels the ARC Troopers breathing even out. When he pulls away Fives looks better, less shaken, and although his grin isn't as large as normal, it's still there. (He marks it down in a new column in his heart, right next to Ahsoka's smiles and laughter, counting it as a small victory against a war that's designed to cause as much misery as possible).

"Thanks, Gramps."

Despite himself, he laughs. Perhaps, he thinks, the nickname isn't so bad if it brings a little joy.

He's about to respond, when a flash of light overhead draws their attention; Bright orange and yellow that bleeds through the dark clouds. Hardcase did it. But he doesn't let himself relax, not yet, because for all the changes made, he still doesn't know if he changed enough.

His heart pounds in his ears and he's fairly certain that he's forgotten to breathe. The seconds tick by, each one seemingly longer than the last. Beside him, Fives is tense; eyes also fixed to the sky, waiting and watching.

The relief that foods him when he spots the speck of light approaching is indescribable. However, it quickly fades when he notices the erratic flight, the way the ship lists dangerously to one side, and (when it gets closer) the sparks that trial behind it.

The landing, if it can be called that, is rough, and when the shield comes down, Rex is there ready to catch his brother if need be. It's a good thing too, as Hardcase tumbles from the seat, blood leaking from under his helmet. It takes a matter of moments to find the pulse at his brother's neck and only then does Rex breathe. Unconscious, but miraculously alive.

Boots on the pavement prompt him and Fives to look up.

"The General requests your presence."

---

Knowing the execution order is coming doesn't make it any easier to hear or make him want to strangle the fallen Jedi any less. Especially as Hardcase, barley able to stand from what Rex strongly suspects is a concussion, has to be assisted to his mark.

“Do the prisoners request blindfolds?”

Tup looks disturbed to even be asking the question, and Rex’s heart goes out to him. No brother should have to face killing their own family.

Not right.

He has to check again to be sure he isn't imagining it, but no, it is Tup at the firing line.

Fives has begun speaking, but Rex doesn’t pay attention, too busy doing a headcount, grateful for the lack of helmets obscuring faces. He does it again, just to be sure.

Dogma isn't there.

Distantly, he's aware that Fives speech is winding to a close, but only just. Too busy running over the possibilities, the implications, and drawing a blank.

The sound of blaster fire draws his attention violently back to the present, and he is no less relieved to see that the firing squad had come to the same conclusion as before.

Fives glares at him as he walks up.

"A warning would have been nice." The ARC trooper hisses under his breath.

"And miss that speech? Look at them Fives, " he surreptitiously gestures to the men as he begins undoing the binders. "Sometimes we forget that we're more than walking numbers, especially under men like Krell. They needed to hear that."

The binders come off with a click, and Fives rubs his wrists.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I needed to hear it."

The ARC Trooper looks at the Captain for a moment, eventually nodding his head in acceptance.

"Besides, " Rex cocks an eyebrow, "I thought you didn't believe me?"

Fives punches him in the arm.

---

To say that Krell is displeased at the news of the failed execution would be an understatement. The fallen Jedi is livid, and standing before him held in a fourhanded grip, forced to look up to meet the massive force users gaze, Rex is reminded of standing up against the Imperial AT-AT on Seelos, just him, Gregor, and Wolffe; Easily uncrushable and very small.

“You are making a mistake by crossing me clone.”

It is fortunate then, that he isn't immune from the insanity that plagues his brothers, and that his tolerance for disrespect dwindled significantly with age.

“Its Captain.”

The lack of ‘Sir’ does not go unnoticed, and Krell’s grip on his arms tightens to the point of bruising. Rex does not look away. Neither does Krell, not even as a trooper relays the incoming transmission.

Rex is aware that were they alone, Krell would drop all pretenses of being a General. When the Besalisk does let go, it's accompanied by a shove and despite his best efforts, Rex stumbles.

“Lock the traitors in the brig. You have your stay of execution, Captain.”

The way Krell says his title slides like ice down Rex’s spine and leaves a rancid taste in his mouth.

“We take the Capitol now.”

---

The battle passes in a blur and by the time its over, he's shaken to his core. The reality of it so much worse than the nightmares ever were. Worse because he can still taste the ion trace from the blasters that lingers in the air, the screams of his brothers ringing to loud in his ears. Unable to console himself with the knowledge that it was just a dream.

The blood caked into his blacks.

He's only one man he tries to remind himself, only one man against a tide of destruction and death. He can't change everything.

Intellectually he knows its not his fault — that it's Krell and Krell alone that is responsible for every life lost in this sector of the planet.

It doesn't help, knowing that the battle - the loss- was designed to be a form of torture, not when it worked so well. Not when he still blames himself—his orders for the troops to not wear their helmets into battle being too little, too late, with far too many brothers dead by friendly fire.

Blames himself for every brother lost.

For Waxer.

His fists clench in a mix of rage and sorrow, before pulling himself back to present. They have minutes left before they go to confront Krell, and he needs to focus as they go over the plan one last time. The prison is hardly private, but at this point, discretion no longer matters. He knows that every brother, not just the little band he has assembled, will stand with him.

"I still say we should just kill him."

By rights, Hardcase shouldn't even be out of medical, but Rex strongly suspects that only death would have kept him from joining the fight against Krell at this point.

He shakes his head.

"And I'm right there beside you Vod, but unless we want to end up shipped back to Kamino for reconditioning, we need-"

"Evidence."

All four heads whip around. There, standing in the door to the cell, looking haggard and broken is Dogma. No one says a word as he makes his way toward the group and silently extends a datastick, hands trembling.

"I couldn't get what you said out of my mind." He addresses Rex. "About how things didn't add up. So I read his reports, ran the numbers. You were right."

His face is stony, but in his eyes, Rex can see the betrayal, the anger, the overwhelming sense of loss that comes from having ones whole world come undone around them.

"He didn't even hide it."

Ah, he read those reports. Brutal and full of plain language detailing his choices. The kind of reports where it didn't make sense how they could have gone without being flagged, not until Rex had learned the truth about Palpatine, just one of the many puzzle pieces that fell into place. Rex carefully takes the datastick.

“How do I help?”

He looks from Dogma to the cylindrical tube. Evidence, he had said.

"Is this what I think it is?"

Dogma nods.

"Every file, every report, every statistic." His smile is a wry, bitter thing. Sharp and self-deprecating, edged with the anger of a man who will never again be played for a fool. "It's amazing what you can get access to when someone thinks you're in their back pocket."

Then they have all the evidence they need.

"Tup, any word from the 212th?"

"No, Captain."

His frustration slips past his lips as a growl and he rapidly does the mental calculations, handing the datastick back to the tattooed Trooper.

"Dogma, get this to General Kenobi. I don't care how or who you have to go through to get it to him, but it's for his eyes only. Understand?"

The Trooper salutes, new purpose lending strength to his bearing, and as he barks out a "Yes, Sir!" he almost looks like the Dogma Rex remembers from the start of the campaign.

He looks around the cell at his brothers, fully kitted and armed, faces set with grim determination.

"Alright, men: Plan B."