#can you guess what the translation is on her pauldron?

[peachyhoolagan]

Back when my girl was real

[silverwings22]

Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter 7 Never Enough: Loren Allred

Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness

Chapter Warning: Injury, clones thinking they're expendable, childbirth

Mando'a Translations: Cyar'ika- sweetheart

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Salucemi was rural and open.  It didn't seem like the best place to have droids on the ground,  nor particularly strategically important, so it was anyone's guess as to why the enemy chose to build an outpost.  But there one sat, in the middle of farmland,  marring what might have been a lovely landscape.  

Miria sat up in a tree with her binocs, looking at the droid sentries posted. "Looks like we got good intel. The fortifications are barely finished,  and there aren't many droids yet. They'll probably be waiting for reinforcements." She mused. 

"Can I blow this thing up?" Wrecker looked up from the ground below her. "Please, General?"

"That would prevent the reinforcements from taking back the position." She chuckled, lowering her head to look at him. "Seems fitting.  We'll take the base and then, yes. You may."

"Best General ever." He beamed.

Tech rolled his eyes good naturedly.  "After we get information on what they're doing here."

"And all the droids are scrap." Hunter chuckled. 

"Correct. Now then." Miria pulled her binocs back up. "There's a nearby farm house that may be occupied.  We need to evacuate the civilians.  I will go. Hunter, Tech, scout out the base please. Wrecker, go back to the ship and get the explosives."

"Can't I come with you?" He pouted. 

"No, dear.  Despite being the equivalent of a very large tooka, you look intimidating.  We don't want to frighten them."

"I'll go with her." Crosshair offered.  

"Darling,  you are actually intimidating." She shook her head.  "These are farmers with a droid platoon in their back yard, they may panic.  Cover my position from a vantage point,  but I'll go in alone until they're settled."

"I don't like it." He hissed. 

"I know,  Cross. But it's necessary. And you'll keep me safe,  I know that you will." She hopped down from the tree, slowing her descent with the Force.  "I have my earpiece in. Comm in when you're done scouting." 

Hunter and Tech saluted and darted off. 

Crosshair grumbled as Wrecker headed off to the ship. He hated this,  hated that his skill set he was usually so proud of put him away from her on this.  He was debating arguing with her about it when she pushed his helmet up and kissed him. "Stop fussing." She murmured.  "It's for a few minutes at most."

He grabbed her hips.  "A lot can happen in a few minutes."

She nodded, giving him a few more pecks on the lips. "That's why  you're going to keep me safe. I trust you,  Crosshair."

He sighed. "Just… be careful."

"I will, darling" his concern was endearing.  Over the last few months they'd always looked out for each other, but he seemed to have amped it up the moment she'd first kissed him.  For having such a quiet, hard exterior, Crosshair had a soft spot. And Miria Halcyon's name was printed all over it in plain Arubesh. "Besides, this is diplomacy.  Something I'm quite good at."

"You're a preschool teacher, Miria."

"Have you ever tried to get 63 younglings down for a nap at once? Senators don't work that hard." She kissed him once more before pulling away. "I'll be careful."

She headed down towards the farmhouse,  quietly keeping an eye out for droids, while he climbed up a taller tree and got in position. He watched her through the scope, tracking the bounce of ebony curls from the back. She'd painted her armor while they were coming here, black like all of theirs. He hadn't paid it too much attention until now, but her pauldrons were red in the same places his were, the skull insignia of the unit in the center of the Jedis half chest plate and a red stripe down the center of her back. She'd put the winged Jedi Crest in the middle of the red pauldrons on either side,  too. 

She looked like one of them now.  More than one of them… his. 

He kept a careful eye on her as she knocked on the farmhouse door, polite and gentle so as not to frighten anyone.  Maybe she had been right, she was the best one to handle thi-

The door opened and the barrel of a rifle popped out,  pointed directly at the Jedi's head. Crosshair snarled.  He couldn't see the shooter, but he could guess where their head was and shoot through the wall. 

Miria held her hands up, talking, fingers on her left hand moving rapidly in hand signals.  

Stand down. Stand down. Stand down.

He hissed into his comm, into her earpiece.  "Miria!"

Stand down. Stand down. P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T. 

He swore under his breath.  

Down below,  Miria was facing off with a heavily pregnant pink twi'lek.  "Ma'am,  I mean you no harm. There's no need for the gun."

The woman held steady.  "You are a Jedi,  yes?" Her voice was thick with a Ryloth accent,  expression resolute. "What do you want?"

Miria kept her hands where the woman could see them, rapidly signaling to Crosshair not to kill her.  "We're here to destroy that droid outpost in your field,  ma'am. That's all. I've come to help you and your family evacuate. My name is Jedi Knight Miria Halcyon."

The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Only here for the droids. Nothing else, yes?"

"Unless you're smuggling Separatists, nothing else." Miria smiled kindly.  "Please lower your weapon.  I am a friend."

The woman glanced back quietly, like there was someone hiding in the house. "You came with clones.  I saw your ship this morning."

"A four man team only. We are a commando unit."

The woman frowned quietly and slowly lowered the blaster. "We cannot evacuate."

"We can help you. I can't allow you to be hurt. Or your child." Miria said gently. 

The twi'lek searched her face for a long moment.  "You are a good woman." She finally said.  "I see in your eyes. But I have to protect my family."

"I would like to protect them too. What is your name?"

"Suu… Suu Lawquane."

"Let me help, Suu. The shadow of a droid base is no place to raise a youngling."

"It's alright,  Suu." Said an eerily familiar voice inside the house.  Miria raised an eyebrow as a man stepped out of the shadows.  He had longish hair pulled back,  dressed in simple clothing.  But she knew that face. 

"You're a clone." She murmured. 

"Yes ma'am. I'm Cut Lawquane… this is my wife,  Suu." He murmured,  looking at her with quiet resignation in his eyes.  "Are you going to arrest me as a deserter?"

She looked curiously at him a moment.  "Could we, perhaps,  talk first? My unit will be wondering where I am. And yours is a story I think we'd all like to hear."

He smiled sheepishly.  "I don't see why not."

Miria smiled, lifting her comm. "Boys, come down to the farmhouse.  We've got an…. interesting development."

"So you were on Geonosis." Hunter mused, sitting at a rough hewn dinner table with the squad, Cut and Suu. 

Cut nodded quietly. "My entire unit was killed.  I was… lost. In a war I didn't understand for a Republic I didn't know.  I couldn't do it…. I'm sure you think I'm a coward."

Miria listened intently.  "No, I don't." She finally murmured.  "I was also on Geonosis.  I saw the same horror you did. A lot of good people died that day, for a senseless war."

"You stayed, General." Tech noted. Cut flinched. 

"I had a choice.  I was raised with a lifetime of other options,  and made the decision for myself. A decision none of you got to make, I might add. And the Republic never held open debate in the Senate on whether I was truly a person." Her fingers steepled and she rested her chin on them.  "In all honesty, the longer I serve the more I wonder why any clone chooses to remain."

The atmosphere sobered considerably.  Cut looked at her for a minute.  "Thank you,  ma'am.  That means a lot… I didn't want to abandon my brothers,  but… I might have been bred for the war, but my heart isn't in it."

"It's no sin to be something different than expected,  Cut. Look at my team." She smiled.  "Four men with genetic mutations and a dying Jedi. We all find our place. Yours is, apparently, here. Who am I to question the will of the Force?"

Crosshair looked at her profile,  leaned across the table in the dim lamplight. Button nosed and smiling gently, offering her hand to a reg and deserter without judgment.  Nothing in her eyes but...

Mercy. 

He had to do something here. Show some kind of conviction in a place where everything he'd ever known was being tested.  He had to make a choice about what kind of man he was going to be.  

He wanted to be the kind she'd respect. 

"How do we go about protecting your family,  then?" He murmured, startling everyone.  "The base needs to go if you're going to stay here. Otherwise when another unit comes,  they'll turn you in."

Miria smiled. Tech, Hunter,  and Wrecker looked flabbergasted.  Did that just come out of Crosshair's mouth?!

"I've been watching their patrols." Cut offered quietly.  "They're still operating on protocol for a greater number of droids than they have,  there's a gap in the patrol rotation."

Miria nodded.  "Then that is how we'll get in."

Cut had ditched his old armor long ago,  but insisted on coming with his blaster and other kit. "I thought you weren't a soldier anymore." Hunter mused as he walked out with a makeshift flank vest on and some spare ship parts Tech had lying around strapped to his chest and thighs.  It was well past dark now, and time to make their move.

"I'm not.  I'm a father… and that means I have to protect my family." He said firmly.  

Miria had been sitting with Suu while they'd gone back to the ship for what they'd need.  She smiled fondly.  "He's a good man."

Suu nodded.  "It hasn't been without its challenges, loving a clone. But it's been worth it…" She gave Miria knowing smile. "Which one is yours, Jedi?"

Miria smiled shyly.  "It's that obvious?"

"When you know what to look for. So who has the Jedi's heart?" Suu chuckled.  

"The sniper,  Crosshair." Miria admitted.  "It's a… recent development.  Maybe too soon to call it love, but…"

"I didn't think the Jedi were allowed to love."

Miria shook her head. "Our tenants, compassion, honor, and mercy, come from love. It's attachment that's forbidden.  When you hold on to something because you fear losing it, you become weak to the dark side."

"Don't you fear to lose him?" Suu blinked.  

"I have to accept that one day I will.  I've always known I'd die young, the last twenty years of my life have been a gift. I won't get this…. What you have. A home and children… I taught younglings and thought I would be content."

"But you're not." Suu nudged her. "I see your eyes. You want more."

"What I might want can never be.  Jedi cannot be mothers, and if I left the Order I'd be dead within two or three years if I got lucky. How could I bear a child only to leave them?  It would be unfair…" Mirias voice sounded lost. "Even within the Order, there's been so many close calls…"

"If you could,  would you leave for him?" Suu murmured softly.  "If you knew you had forever?"

"I can only have right now." Miria gave her a sad smile.  "But I can give you and Cut more time. We have to go." She stood and patted Suus shoulder. The twi'lek smiled and pulled the Jedis hand to her stomach,  where a hard kick landed just under her palm. Mirias eyes widened in quiet awe.

"They thank you too, Master Halcyon."

Miria brightened. "I'll bring your daddy home safe and sound, little one." Bolstered, she trotted over to join the menfolk. 

"We've got three minutes to get in between patrol groups." Cut murmured,  blaster up. "You guys got a plan once we're in?"

Miria nodded.  "We need to get Tech into the control room at the center of the base.  While he's copying their system data, we set charges and once we're out Wrecker can… how did you phrase it the other day,  dear?"

"Blow this place higher than a Corellian opia den." They could almost hear the grin under his helmet. 

"Ah yes. That." Miria chuckled.  Hunter, you and Cut go with Tech. You can move quietly.  Crosshair,  you and I will cover Wrecker while he sets the charges. If we get into any trouble,  it will divert attention away from the control room.  Comm in once you're out of range and we will rendezvous at the clearing we passed coming in. We'll blow the charges from there."

Everyone saluted, even Cut. She chuckled faintly.  "Alright, Bad Batch.  Let's do what we do best."

"Fuck shit up?" Wrecker grinned again.  

"Yes dear. Fuck shit up."

"That sounds wrong in a Coruscanti accent." Crosshair grumbled as the groups separated.  

"You know,  Anakin said the same thing when he dropped a training stone on my foot and broke it. I'm a little ashamed of what I said in front of that boy. He was only twelve."

They crept along the perimeter, waiting for the droid patrol to pass before Crosshair shot a dart line up and locked on. He slung his rifle back over his shoulder.  Miria tugged the line to assure it was steady before hauling herself up swiftly.  Crosshair followed,  Wrecker right behind.  

The Jedi landed gracefully on the wall top and reached down to give them a hand. "Clear."

"Cut said we had three minutes.  Let's move." Crosshair nodded for Wrecker to lead the way. 

The base was simple, four enclosing walls and a tower command center.  "Stick to the shadows." Miria cautioned.  "Corners first." 

They worked their way around the inside wall, Wrecker setting charges where they wouldn't be seen while the other two covered his flanks. "I need to get three in the middle." Wrecker murmured,  only a half whisper.  

Crosshair looked up. "And they've got a roving spotlight. Great.  Stealth is not your forte."

Miria chewed her lip. "Give me the charges. I've got an idea." She tapped her comm. "How's it looking, Hunter?"

"Tech's finishing up.  We're about to head out now."

"Good. Go out the east side, we're almost done." She held her hand out for the charges. Wrecker obediently handed them over and they floated up out of her hands,  rushing forward by powers unseen and attaching themselves to the bottom of the tower. 

"That's cool,  General." Wrecker chuckled.  

"Thank you,  dear. Now let's get out of here before we're spotted."

They headed back towards the east wall, cautious but optimistic.  This was good,  nothing had-

"General, are you out yet?" Tech called in her ear.

"Not yet."

"We have a problem."

Crosshair groaned. "I knew this was too easy."

"I'm monitoring their system now. They just received a protocol update. Your three minute window just vanished."

Miria took a deep breath.  "Alright. Looks like we're fighting our way out. Proceed to the rendezvous point."

Crosshairs helmet turned to her. "Plan?"

She nodded. "When the patrol hits the west wall, start shooting. They should run that way and we'll go out the other. It's like herding younglings."

"I'm starting to think there should be a training simulation in your creche." He chuckled,  lifting his rifle. 

It wasn't a hard shot, and Crosshair never missed. He lit the patrol up effortlessly,  and Miria's heart did a funny little flip. Oh, he looked good like this….

"We're under attack!" The tinny voice of the droids went berserk.  

"Go!" Miria gave Wrecker a push and they took off running for the actual gate. There was no time for fancy climbing maneuvers right now.  She pulled her saber as they reached it, cutting the door open. 

"Hey, it's Jedi!" A droid yelled, before Crosshair shot it in the head.  

"Wrecker,  shoulder that door the rest of the way open." Miria turned,  saber up, to deflect the hail of blaster fire coming up on them. 

She heard, rather than saw, Crosshair grunt when a stray shot got past her. Something unfamiliar and hot bubbled through her chest,  and she yanked one droid up with the Force and used it to slam the others off their feet. Wrecker got the door open and she threw Crosshair's arm over her shoulder, half dragging the clone out as he groaned faintly.  

They broke for the trees, Wrecker helping her carry Crosshair.  "Hit the charges. " She ordered as soon as they made it to the clearing, taking the sniper's weight back onto her shoulder.  

Wrecker nodded and hit the plunger as she carefully lay Crosshair on the ground and yanked his helmet up. Tech,  Hunter, and Cut approached from behind.  She ignored them.  

"Cross… Cross, open your eyes." Miria ordered, checking his pulse at his neck before moving down his body searching for the wound. 

There, right in his right side just past the edge of his chest plate. The plasma had struck just under his ribs. "I've got a full medical kit at home, getting ready for the baby." Cut murmured.  

She nodded,  handing Hunter Crosshair's helmet and rifle as his eyes cracked open. "Fucking lucky shot…"

"Shh. You're alright." She took his hands. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah...  help me up…" he muttered, letting her back up and leaning on her heavily when he got his legs under him.  

"I've got you." Miria murmured,  letting the others lead the way. 

"I know. " he winced slightly,  hand tightening into a fist as they walked. "I trust you."

Cut and Suu had a spare room, which the others offered to let Miria tend to Crosshair in while they crashed in the barn.  The silver haired clone begrudgingly lay down and let her look at his ribs. 

"You got lucky,  darling.  An inch down and that shot could have hit something vital." She sighed, wringing out a cloth in a basin of warm water and cleaning the wound.

"Not the first time I've been shot." He shrugged,  gritting his teeth when she made another pass with the cloth.

"Not comforting." She sighed.  "You shouldn't have been hurt at all.  I never should have let that shot get past me." 

"Hey. It wasn't your fault." He frowned.  

"Yes it was." She reached for the bacta with shaking hands.  "You could have been killed,  Cross."

He winced when the stinging spray hit his skin.  "I'm a clone. We were made to be-"

"Don't you dare say expendable, Crosshair." She hissed.  "You are not.  None of you.  Not to me."

He stretched slightly, assuring himself the wound was closed before pulling her into his chest.  "Hey, hey.  C'mere." He muttered. "See?  Still alive."

She buried her face in his shoulder.  "I'm sorry.  You shouldn't have been hurt at all…"

"It's the nature of war, cyar'ika.  You know that." He sighed. 

Miria closed her eyes.  "I've been preparing to die all my life…" she whispered.  "But when I'm with you… I just feel so alive."

He smiled a little. "Hey. Look at me." Strong fingers tilted her chin up to him.  His eyes were warmer than she'd ever seen. "I can give you right now."

She nodded, leaning in for a kiss.  Crosshair pulled her next to him,  curling around her. She rested her forehead against his, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs delicately before tracing the tattoo over his right eye.  Something fluttered like a trapped bird in her ribcage,  desperate to escape but too newly born to survive the outside world yet. Something like love. "Cross?" She murmured softly.  

"Hm?" He had his eyes closed,  leaning into her hands. 

"If the war ends and we're all still here, what do you want?" Suus questions from earlier haunted her skull,  and she couldn't help but wonder if he had some hopeless dream too. Hers was barely taken shape, seen only in glimpses of someone else's happy ending.  

He opened his eyes and found hers curiously.  "I've never thought about it before. This is all I know…"

"Could you think about it? Just a minute. Please…"

Crosshair frowned, pondering.  In a galaxy without war…. Where would he fit? His skillset was death… "I don't know.  Bounty hunter? Big game on Felucia or something?"

He didn't expect her to giggle. "The entire galaxy at your fingertips and you still have your rifle." 

"I'm good with my rifle." He made an indignant noise. "What about you? What would you want?"

She sighed. "Nothing I can have, Cross…"

"What is it?" He softened his approach,  skimming his hands down her back.  "I won't laugh."

She tucked her head under his chin.  "What Cut and Suu have… this.  A home and family…."

Crosshair froze, and she felt his pulse kick up a second.  She closed her eyes again.  "Forget I said anyth-"

"No, I just… didn't expect that." He cut her off. "Probably should have,  you're definitely the type. I just… I don't think I'm the one that can give it to you."

"No one can, Cross. If I leave the Order…"

"And they won't let you have that as long as you're there." He finished the thought.  

"It's okay… I can accept it. I've known since I was a child." She snuggled in a little closer.  "It's just…. They look so happy." 

Crosshair kissed her temple. He didn't know what to say or do but hold her, trying not to imagine what the future might have looked like. They didn't have time… but they had right now.  

It would have to be enough. 

Miria was woken by a cry of pain downstairs,  and rocketed out of the bed. Crosshair bolted upright. "What the fuck?"

"That sounded like Suu." She took off, barefoot and in her leggings and breast band,  down the steps three at a time.  Sure enough,  the pregnant twi'lek was sitting up at the kitchen table,  gasping for breath, with Cut leaning over her rubbing her back.  Crosshair came down with his rifle,  and a second later the rest of the Bad practically kicked in the door. 

"Hunter heard a scream." Tech was breathless from the pell-mell run from the barn.  They hadn't even grabbed their gear, still in their blacks. 

Miria settled her heartbeat.  "She's in labor. Goodness that scared me."

"S-sorry…" Suu groaned. "I didn't think it would come so fast. I don't think we will make it to the medical center…"

A new type of panic oozed into the Force as five men realized they were way in over their heads. "Don't look at me. Babies are not my job.  It's the exact opposite of  my job.  I kill things." Crosshair muttered, sitting his rifle down.  

"It's okay.  I know what to do." Miria murmured.  "I did a rotation on Rutia with my master when I was a padawan.  I've delivered a baby before."

Suu chuckled.  "Full of surprises…"

"Wrecker, Tech, I need clean towels and hot water.  Hunter, I need you to sterilize your knife and give it here." She murmured.  "Cut, help me get her back to bed. Keep holding her hand.  Crosshair,  you have the steadiest hands. I need them. Come with me."

Everyone moved,  getting Suu back to her room.  Once she had everything brought in, Miria shooed everyone but Crosshair from her team out. "Alright dear. Deep breaths."

Cut chewed his lip. "Is she going to be okay?"

"If I have anything to say about it, yes." Miria settled at the foot of the bed. "Don't worry, Cut. This is a part of life for every nat-born, one way or the other. They'll both be fine.  Alright Suu, ready?"

Outside the room, the other clones waited somewhat anxiously.  One fight with Cut and he was definitely a brother,  despite their overall impression of regs. Tech sat in a corner,  leg bouncing in a nervous tic. Hunter kept worrying the empty sheath of his knife.  And Wrecker kept fidgeting in the chair he occupied.  

It was a silent three hours for them,  broken only by the occasional cry from Suu through the door or Mirias voice speaking softly,  words indistinguishable even by Hunter's ears. 

They all jumped when they heard a tiny wail. 

Back in the birthing room,  Miria chuckled and toweled off a squalling infant with predominantly twi'lek features.  "Congratulations, dears. It's a girl." She set the unhappy infant in Suus arms. 

"Sheeah." Suu smiled,  snuggling her daughter close.  

Cut nodded,  choking up a little.  "Thank you… she's perfect." He tore his eyes from his wife and child to look at Miria and Crosshair.  "Thank you so much."

"Look out for these two.  That's all the thanks required." Miria smiled,  wiping blood off Hunters knife and her hands.  "You have a lovely family,  Cut."

More than lovely.  A dream in the making,  one she'd never baptize herself in no matter how she wanted to.  Crosshair watched her face as she cleaned up and they backed out of the room to let the little family enjoy each other.

The rest of the unit were on their feet when they walked in.  "They okay?" Hunter murmured. 

Miria nodded. "It's a girl. They've named her Sheeah." She handed him his knife back. 

"Childbirth is messy." Crosshair said curtly. "Tanks are exceptionally easier, if you ask me."

Miria smiled,  but it didn't quite touch her eyes. "Let's pack up, gentlemen. Our mission is complete."

Tech looked at her thoughtfully.  "Should we be doing anything about Cut? He is a deserting soldier."

"There is no soldier living here.  Only a father taking care of his family."

"Of course,  General." He smiled and nodded. "Nothing to report here."

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Transformers Tuesday

(Based on something I recently learned was planned for Shattered Glass Megatron's backstory. This goes with my other two Shattered Glass Prime prompts)

The base had been much too quiet since the return from the earth's core. Optimus was gone. Gone. Megatron had somehow convinced him that he was still Orion Pax and disappeared with him. Primus only knew what was happening to their leader now.

The other Megatron had avoided the Autobots for a few days. They would not have said so, but it was appreciated. The only one who seemed to have no misgivings about the "good guy Megatron" was Miko.

Arcee found them on the top of the mesa one night, watching the skies. Megatron was telling some kind of story while Miko clambered around his shoulders as though the giant Decepticon was her personal playground. The only time he moved was to shift his limbs and armor in order to provide better handholds for the girl. It was this, rather than anything he'd said, that made Arcee believe he was telling the truth. Megatron was clearly well-accustomed to interacting with young humans.

"Titania managed to drive away the Driller with some mining grenades we were supposed to be loading, but without the presence of a predator, the spider-bot population around the docks increased exponentially," the mech was saying as Arcee approached. He chuckled. "But I'll tell you what, Damos never left his energon rations outside again!"

Miko laughed. "Poor guy! Tell me another one, Tronus!"

Arcee frowned. "Tronus?"

Megatron's plating hitched slightly. "That was my name before the War," he explained. "I just...thought it might be easier for everyone if you didn't have to call me the same name as, you know, the other one."

Arcee shrugged. "Makes as much sense as anything else around here, I guess," she sighed.

Unexpectedly, she took a seat next to Megatron -- Tronus -- and glanced up at him. "So whose Titania?"

The electromagnetic field projecting from Tronus's spark was tinged with a bittersweet nostalgia. It was familiar enough that Arcee regretted asking.

"She..." Tronus faltered. "She was -- perhaps still is -- my conjunx endura."

Unaware of the emotions being subtly broadcast, Miko slid down Tronus's pauldron to lean against his head. "What's a con-junk endura?"

"Miko!" Arcee hissed, chagrined.

Tronus waved her off. "It's alright, it doesn't translate perfectly into most human languages. And she's translating it into two languages at once!"

He smiled down at Miko. "Latin-based languages can be a little convoluted to my mind. But that was the closest thing to the actual Cyberytonian word I could find. See if you can't work out the meaning by taking it apart. Con-junx en-dur-a."

Miko flopped dramatically down. "Homework? At this hour?" she joked, then she closed her eyes to think. "It...kinda sounds like "conjoined"...and some weird version of "endurance"?"

"Very good!" Tronus nodded, careful not to dislodge the girl. "It's essentially the concept of two who are forever joined together."

Miko ticked out a few fingers, clearly in the middle of some kind of thought process. Then she squinted. "So...you're either married, or you're a Combiner?"

Tronus laughed. "Well that's...yes, more or less, that's the simplified version."

"Megatron is married. Who'd have thought?" Miko laughed. "So where is she? Back with your team?"

Tronus sobered abruptly. "I...the last time I saw her, she and Damos and I were being shot down by an Autobot who wanted to test a new gun."

He closed his optics, and his servos scratched deep furrows into the rock. "I woke deep underground, in the midst of being reformatted to save my life. I never saw Titania again."

Miko stopped laughing. She pulled her knees to her chest and tentatively reached out to place a hand against Tronus's face. "Dude. That's horrible," she murmured. "Do you think maybe she got re-whatchamacallit too?"

"I don't know. It is unlikely," Tronus sighed, "But...I hope."

Before anything else could be said, the big mech pasted on a smile and carefully plucked Miko from his shoulder.

"Alright now, little one," he said teasingly, "Time you went to recharge."

"Nooo! I don't wanna!" Miko groaned, "C'mon, one more story? Pleeeease?"

Tronus almost stuck to his guns. Almost. Arcee could see the exact moment he crumbled.

"Ohhhh alright, one more story," he huffed.

Great. Now Miko had another pushover to ask when Ratchet told her no. Arcee hoped that wouldn't end badly.

[lilrexsoka]

Here you all are! (Three hundred followers has been achieved, as well. Cool.) :)

Tumblr Fic #1- Rexsoka Pregnancy- Part 11- Secrets Lost

“I don’t think you are supposed to be here, Commander.” The Togruta smiled slyly as her mate slipped into her room, quiet despite the layers of his armour.

Rex smirked and quietly closed the door behind him. “Maybe. But it was finally my turn on guard duty.”

Ahsoka’s troops had been spending their past few days in the city of Tophen on Christophsis in the crystalline palace, assisting Senator Gemsai as a stabilizer while major changes came to the planet’s politics. The troops followed to both provide protection to their General, as well as to the Senator and her followers. All this meant was Ahsoka was missing her mate terribly as she was kept from seeing him. “I stayed up to wait for you.”

The clone chuckled and guided her into the provided bed, laying her down and smirking into her beautiful face. “Bad girl. The baby needs sleep too.”

She gasped in mock hurt and tapped him teasingly. “I will. I just sleep better with you.” Ahsoka grinned until her mate smothered it with his lips, melting her as always in his comforting presence and touch.

The Togruta eventually convinced him to give up his guarding duty and strip to his blacks, lending to a much easier sleer for both of them. Ahsoka laid above the covers for a while with her mate pressed against her, his head resting beside her swollen stomach which had stuck out between the gifted silk pyjamas, ear against the stretched skin. She lightly ran her nails over his scalp and through the sun-dyed fuzz, listening contently as he murmured to the growing life inside of her.

“You’re going to be so lucky to have Ahsoka as a mommy.” Rex rubbed her abdomen softly, pressing light kisses in between his whispers. “She’s the smartest, prettiest, bravest and most talented Jedi in the Galaxy. She’s funny, and kind, and possibly the best friend a man could ever have.”

Ahsoka felt tears well up behind her eyes. This man was so amazing. She didn’t know what she would have done without him.

The clone continued, practically the entire right side of his face plastered against her body, as if he was trying to hear the heartbeat again. “You’re going to love her, just like I do.” Suddenly, Rex jerked his head back, his expression flashing with confusion, then wonder.

“What?” His mate sat up further, the markings above her eyes lifting.

Rex chuckled lowly and smoothed his palm over the area of her stomach his head had been resting on. “Didn’t you feel that?”

She giggled nervously. “No?”

The clone pressed his ear back up against her rounded stomach and seemed to wait. Eventually, he gasped, “There! It did it again! The baby is moving!”

His giddiness amused her and she grinned. “Are you sure? It could just be-“

“I’m sure,” Rex insisted. “I felt and heard it bump against your side.” He pressed his lips to her skin, as if attempting to kiss his unborn child. “Are you trying to say hi to mommy and daddy?”

Ahsoka sighed lovingly and stroked her mate’s back with one hand, her belly with the other. She couldn’t express how much she loved him. “I’m sure he’s trying to tell you that he wants to go to sleep.” The Togruta snickered as the clone crawled back up to her and smirked into her face.

“You could have just said so.” He playfully hooked his arms under her back and pulled the sheets around her. Once she was safely tucked under the silk blankets, he slipped under with her.

Ahsoka immediately tucked into his side, squirming around until she found the perfect spot for her distended stomach. Rex curled his arms around her and lay there, hand placed protectively on the spot where their child grew.

This was their routine when they had the chance. By now, it was familiar, but yet still the favourite part of their night.

“Goodnight, Rex. I love you.”

“Goodnight, ‘Soka. I love you so much.” She felt him tap her stomach under the covers. “Goodnight, son- or daughter- of ours.”

The Togruta smiled into his shoulder. He was a good man, and would make an amazing father.

——

“Feels good to be back in the stars, General?” Admiral Tashen asked once Ahsoka and her men walked onto the bridge. The political assistance had helped Christophsis for the better, but now it was finally time to leave Senator Gemsai so they could continue with another mission.

The General nodded deftly. “Of course, Admiral. I’m always glad to return to you.” She winked teasingly and thoroughly enjoyed the laugh she pulled from him.

“So, what’s next on the agenda, Tashen?” Rex asked, stopping beside the General.

The Admiral leaned forward to turn on the holotable. “We will be heading to Joshal next, to assist the refugees that are being driven from their homes by extremists.” He brought up an image of the planet, which was quickly followed by a recording of a human woman, pleading for help in a language that was translated below her face.

“Joshal?” Jesse spoked up, his eyes flaring. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s wild,” both Kix and the Admiral told him at the same time.

Tashen shot him a look but continued. “It’s an under-developed planet, but it’s people are still part of the Republic, and they need our help.” He switched off the projection smoothly. “We’ll be stopping at Arcadis station to resupply before beginning the journey to the Holden System.”

“You can’t go, General Tano,” Kix blurted again, leading every pair of eyes on the bridge to train on him. The clone medic rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Ahsoka sighed and gestured to him as she slowly strode past, making sure to include her Commander by tapping his pauldron. “Follow me, Kix, and explain why.” She didn’t particularly want to begin an argument in public, and she was ready to sit down. Pregnancy had done terrible things to her back.

“Let me explain,” the medic began once they found the first private room they could find, which just so happened to be one of the medical bays. “I’ve done some research on exotic planets, and Joshal is certainly exotic.” He continued as Ahsoka heaved herself into a chair and listened carefully, Rex watching from a shorter distance away. “There are these insects on this planet that carry a dangerous disease. It doesn’t do anything to most people, but it can affect women who-“ He cut himself off with a ragged cough. “-Who are bitten.”

Ahsoka lifted the markings above her eyes, suspicious. “Uh huh. Well, I’ll try not to get bitten. Thank you, Kix.”

Kix didn’t give up. Instead, he began to grow frantic. “Please, just listen to me, General. I think it will be best if you stay behind this mission, just for your safety.”

“Kix,” the Togruta sighed. “Just tell me the real reason.” She was already guessing his point when she heard footsteps and then, a door sliding open.

“Sorry to eavesdrop,” the man, a young Coruscanti medic, began, “But I have to disagree. I had a grandparent who was from Joshal, and the Tinxes don’t harm healthy women. But they could cause a risk to unborn children.” He shrugged and sipped his cup of caf.

Rex growled. “Trooper. This is a private conversation.”

The young medic’s eyes flared and he took a step back. “Oh, sorry. I hadn’t-“ He cursed under his breath and rapidly backed out.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, though incompetent shinies wasn’t her biggest concern at the moment. “Enough of this. How did you know, Kix? Was it obvious?”

The Medic groaned and buried his face in his hands, sinking down into his own chair. “Er… a little. Some of the older clones, including I and Jesse, noticed. And… uh… we started betting.”

“Of course you did.” Rex paced closer and stood face to face with his medic, fists curling protectively. “Now, I’d like you to come up with an excuse. Anything that can keep Ahsoka’s secret for a little longer. I want you to stop all betting.” The clones exchanged a long glare, seeming to study each other until Rex eventually broke the silence. “You’re certain, aren’t you? Coric told you.”

Kix shook his head rapidly, but his stuttering gave him away and the gig was up. He sighed heavily. “Yes, but it was necessary! Coric wanted someone who could keep an eye on the General, someone who knew enough about pregnancies!” He winced, as if he was afraid his brother would hit him.

“It’s okay, Rex,” Ahsoka told her mate, gently guiding him away from the medic. I guess this is just the excuse I needed. “Coric was probably right.” She gathered her courage and a deep breath before murmuring, “I think we should tell everyone now anyway.”

Rex sighed, apparently very relieved. “I agree. Since the boys are already speculating. It wouldn’t be long before they figured out the truth.”

“Thank you,” Kix breathed. He laughed nervously. “Takes a lot of stress off of me.”

The Togruta ran her hands down her mate’s arms and inhaled shakily. This was going to be the beginning of what she feared. Before long, more than just her men and her master would know about her pregnancy. “Okay… should we tell them now?” She’d waited long enough.

Rex shrugged, but Kix interrupted him. “It’s up to you. But I wasn’t joking, you probably should not step onto the surface of Joshal. Just to be safe.” He arched his eyebrows and jabbed his thumb at the door behind him. “That shiny was right.”

“I believe you.” Ahsoka touched her stomach through the fabric of her robes as she spoke. “And this time, I’ll listen. For the baby’s safety.” She saw the relieved expressions on both the clone’s faces and decided that she had made the right choice.

Now, all that was left was to reveal their relationship- and their pregnancy- to the clones and natural-borns on the cruiser. This will be fun.

[bitchin-beskar]

Broken Promises

Chapter 1: I’m Not Alright

Rating: M

Warnings: Trigger warnings: Mentions of rape, and violence against a pregnant woman, brief mention of violence against an unborn infant. 

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I struggled a fair bit with writing this chapter, and I’m not 100% thrilled with it, but I needed to get it written and published. The rating for this chapter is MATURE, and not the fun kind of mature. Please read the warnings, and if anything there is triggering, or makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this chapter. That being said, I hope you guys end up liking this chapter, even though it doesn’t move the plot forward all that much. The next couple of chapters will see some action though, so get ready for that! 

*Also, the Mando’a that Mando says to Cerliah is translated at the bottom of the chapter!*

When Cerliah woke, the first thing she noticed was the pain. It wasn’t a sharp, stabbing pain, but more of a slow, dull, throbbing pain, radiating out of the side of her neck and up into her skull. Groaning, she went to sit up, only for a firm hand to press against her shoulder, keeping her against the bed. 

“Easy.”

Blinking, she tried to focus on the figure next to her, but the bright light made it almost impossible. Almost as soon as she realized this, the shadow next to her moved, and the lights dimmed. It still took her a moment to realize the figure next to her was the Mandalorian. 

She raised her hand to prod at the pain in her neck, but a gloved hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her. “W–What happened?” Her voice was scratchy and hoarse, and she winced at the way it pulled at her stitches. 

The Mandalorian slowly lowered her arm so it laid across her stomach, but he didn’t remove his hand from around her wrist. “What do you remember?” His voice was steady, calm, and it brought her more relief than she would have expected, having only known him for a week or so. 

“Kuiil–he took out the transmitter,” it hurt to move her head so she continued to look at the Mandalorian. “He–He had to stitch me up, a–and you held me still,” Cerliah blushed as she remembered the way he’d held her. She hadn’t thought about it at the time, too worried about the transmitter, but now that her mind was clear, she was embarrassed at how she’d acted. “I remember being tired…” Her voice trails off as she tries to remember anything after Kuiil had stitched her up, but the only thing her mind brings forth is a hazy memory of a sense of comfort and a gentle swaying sensation. 

The Mandalorian speaks up beside her. “I brought you back to the ship to rest.” His words are short and to the point, but there is no harshness underlying his voice. “You’ve been asleep for roughly two days.” 

Cerliah starts at that, and she would have sat up in bed, had the Mandalorian’s iron grip not prevented it. “T–Two days?” She hates how her voice shakes, but the idea of being unconscious that long, unaware of herself and her surroundings for that long is terrifying, even though she senses deep down that the Mandalorian would not harm her. No wonder her throat hurts so bad. 

“You’ve been on the Crest the whole time. The kid’s been up here some, but that’s it.” She’s sure he’s just informing her of what’s been going on while she’d been asleep, but Cerliah couldn’t help but feel as if he’s trying to… comfort her? Keep her calm? She’s not exactly sure, but it doesn’t matter, as his words cause her heartbeat to return to normal, no matter their original intention. 

“You should rest some more.” 

Cerliah tries to shake her head, but the pain in her neck dissuades her. “No, I should get up,” she protests, even though she makes no move to rise, the Mandalorian’s hands still holding her firmly in place. “Seriously, I should at least eat something, right?” The blank helmet stares at her for a long while, and just as Cerliah’s about to apologize, or ask again, or just say something to fill the void, he speaks.

“You’re right.” His hand is no longer holding her shoulder down, but slowly sliding behind her neck while his other hand tugs her wrist forward, and he helps her to slowly sit up. As she swings her legs over the side of the bed–a bed? She didn’t know he had an honest-to-maker bed on the ship–a wave of nausea hits her, and her hand flys out to steady herself on the Mandalorian’s pauldron. 

They sit for a moment, and Cerliah struggles to breathe deeply through the roiling of her stomach. It’s only once the nausea has faded that she attempts to stand. The Mandalorian keeps his hand behind her neck, supporting her head, and the other one lands gently on her waist to keep her steady as she rises. She’d feel embarrassed, but she’s too focused on making sure she doesn’t get sick all over him. 

Her legs feel like liquid, and she tightens her fingers on his shoulder, desperately trying to keep her balance. She can remember the last time she felt this weak, and the memories bring tears to her eyes. The Mandalorian brings her forward, and she rests her forehead against the cool beskar cuirass. Tears roll down her cheeks as she fights against the physical and phantom pains, before finally allowing herself to break down in a way she never had before. 

She isn’t sure how long he holds her, but as her tears finally stop, he gently pulls her back, encouraging her to sit once more on the bed. She tilts her head up to look at him, cheeks still wet from her tears. “I’ll bring something for you to eat, okay?” He waits for her to nod before he leaves, and she slowly lays back down as he leaves the room. She looks around for the first time, surprised at the space. She’d stayed on a cot the whole week they’d been traveling to Arvala-7, and she’d never once suspected there was an actual bedroom on the ship.

There wasn’t much to the room. Like the rest of the ship, there was no decoration or ornamentation. The walls were bare, and the only other piece of furniture in the room other than the bed was a small metal chest. The sheets on the bed weren’t particularly soft, but they were warm and decently comfortable. As Cerliah found herself drifting off once more, she wondered if the room was the Mandalorians’. 

***

Mando left the Razor Crest and made his way towards Kuiil’s hut. As he walked, he thought back to the woman resting on the ship. His opinion of her had changed rather drastically since he’d found her on Markon-Vel. When he’d found her, he’d thought that she’d kidnapped his son. But the more time he spent around her, the more he’d watched her interact with his kid, the worse he felt about his initial coldness. She’d taken to being on the ship in stride, and he was rather relieved to see that she didn’t seem prone to idle chatter. He was a man of few words, and she understood that. It was… nice.

He ducked into his friend’s home, finding the Ugnaught standing over the stove, stirring a pot of stew. Kuiil didn’t turn at his entrance, so Mando waited patiently by the door for him to finish. Kuiil ladled out some of the stew into a small wooden bowl, turning to face Mando, holding it out. “How fares your associate?”

Mando shrugged. “She woke up, but she seemed nauseous. I told her I’d bring her food.” Kuiil nodded, handing the bowl over. “Should she be sleeping this much?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but he could hear the worry laced in his voice.

“The surgery was exceedingly painful, and the emotional toll would have only made the experience worse. I am not surprised she has been sleeping.” Mando sighed, nodding to his friend before leaving his hut, and walking back to the Crest. He placed the bowl down on one of the crates, and ascended the ladder to get Cerliah.

As he walked into the room, he saw Cerliah laying on the bed, but she wasn’t sleeping peacefully, like he’d gotten used to the past few days. Her body was thrashing on the bed, her arms moving about as though trying to ward off some attacker. He felt like he couldn’t move, but when she opened her mouth to let out a bloodcurdling scream, he darted forward.

“NO, PLEASE, PLEASE STOP! I’M SORRY, PLEASE, NO! DON’T HURT MY BABY!”

His blood ran cold, and he froze at the side of the bed, hands hovering above Cerliah’s shaking form. She’d told him that his kid hadn’t been hurt, at least when he’d been with her. Had she lied? He grasped Cerliah’s arms, trying to keep her still.

He wasn’t surprised when she began to thrash harder, her shrieks growing in volume as she tried to get away from him. He was worried however, from the violence of her movements, she was going to tear her stitches, and maybe worse. 

He made a split second decision, hoping it was the right one. He used his grip on Cerliah’s arms to pick her up partially off the bed, quickly sliding underneath her. He wrestled her sideways on his lap, one arm clamped down around her knees to stop her from kicking him, the other wrapped around her back, both of her wrists clasped in his hand in front of her. He pulled her tight against his cuirass, trying to stop her movements.

“Cerliah, Cerliah please, it’s okay, you’re safe, I promise. Please mesh’la, stop moving, you’ll hurt yourself. It’s okay, you’re safe.” 

He kept repeating the words over and over, and gradually, her body’s movements began to slow, her legs and arms no longer straining to get out of his hold. He could feel the moment she woke up, as her body tried to tense, but the pain she must have been feeling prevented it. And then, the trembling started. Her body was wracked with sobs, her shoulders heaving as she tried to breathe through the tears.

Slowly, Mando began to rock back and forth, somewhat awkwardly, but it always worked whenever his kid had a nightmare–he didn’t want to know what the nightmares were about, but he was sure he could guess based on how clingy the kid became after he woke up–and couldn’t stop crying. He continued to mutter reassurances and at some point he unconsciously slipped into Mando’a.

“K’uur mesh’la, gedet’ye. Udesiir, udesiir, gar morut’yc. Bic naasad veman, bic vercopa. Ori’jate, mesh’la, udesiir.” 

***

They were trying to take her baby. She flinched as another kick landed against her arms, but she refused to remove them from where they were curled protectively against her stomach. She could hear them–the ensigns, lackeys no doubt trying to get into the Lieutenant Commander’s good graces–hurling abuse and vulgarities as she lay on the ground, beaten to a bloody pulp. 

She tried so hard to protect her baby. But there were so many of them, too many of them. They held her down. They held her down. They cut her open. They held her down and cut her open and ripped her baby out–

Cerliah wakes with a gasp, her whole body shuddering, tears wet against her cheeks. She doesn’t recognize her surroundings, and for a moment all she can sense is that she’s being restrained, and she immediately panics, trying to break free of the hold on her.

She can barely move, and it only makes her thrash harder. It isn’t until she realizes that the hands holding her are not harsh and violent, but gentle and caring that she stops panicking enough to hear the words being spoken to her. She doesn’t recognize the language, but the tone, the sound of the voice, paired with the harshness of a vocoder, that she did recognize. 

She stops moving completely, sagging against his chest, becoming aware of the pain radiating throughout her entire body. The incision Kuiil had made in her neck was throbbing, the pain rippling out in all directions, making it hard to move her head. The muscles in her arms and legs are sore, and she has even less strength than when she woke up the first time. She can hear the whimpers escaping from between her lips, but she can’t stop them, the images from her nightmare–from her memories–vivid and clear in her mind’s eye. 

The Mandalorian holds her for a long time. Cerliah can’t remember the last time she’d been held like this, comforted, by someone who just… cared for her. He doesn’t try to get her to speak, doesn’t push for her to talk about her nightmares, he just… holds her. 

The still silence of the room is broken by the hissing of the door sliding open. Cerliah doesn’t move, but she can feel as the Mandalorian turns his head towards the door. He doesn’t say anything, but one of his arms shifts around her, reaching down. Cerliah was about to turn and look at what he was doing when something was dropped into her lap. She looked down, blinking as she realized it was Little One, wrapped snugly in his brown robes, peering up at her. His little hands were clenched in the fabric of her dress, and he looked at her with concern in his big black eyes. 

“He’s been worried about you.” The Mandalorian’s chest rumbled underneath her as he spoke. Cerliah didn’t speak, but raised one of her hands to rub at the soft skin of Little One’s ear. “He didn’t want to leave you, even while you were asleep.” 

Cerliah could tell that she wanted to cry, but she had no tears left to give. She bit her lip as she looked at the little being in her lap, his innocence so similar to that of her own child. “Why are you telling me this?” Her voice was a quiet, raspy whisper, throat sore from her screams. 

There was a poignant silence, and Cerliah was beginning to think that the Mandalorian wouldn’t answer her, but he finally spoke. “You care for him.” His words were slow and careful, and she waited patiently for him to finish. “If I hadn’t come for him on Markon-Vel, you would have raised him as your own.” There’s no question in his voice, but she answers him anyway.

“Yes.”

He sighs deeply, resting one of his hands against Little One’s back as he looks down at the child in her lap. “You were having a nightmare.” Again, there’s no question, but she nods regardless. “You kept crying out, asking someone to not hurt your baby.” She closes her eyes tightly, but nods again, knowing that she can’t hide from this. “Were you… Did they…” He trailed off, unsure of how to voice his concerns, but she knew.

“No, you son wasn’t harmed while he was with me.” She breathed deeply, smiling softly as Little One used his grip on her dress to pull himself further up her body, and she cradled him in her arms, grateful for his comforting presence. “And as far as I know, he wasn’t harmed before he came to me.” 

“Then your nightmare–”

“I lost my son.”

Cerliah cut the Mandalorian off, and she could tell he was startled at her words. “It was a few years ago,” she began, unconsciously tightening her arms around Little One. “The Grand Moff had one of his underlings, Lieutenant Commander Karkoff, staying in the mansion for a week. He… took a liking to me.” She shuddered, her voice heavy with disgust. “The help weren’t allowed to interact with guests of the household, but he didn’t care.” 

She took a deep breath before continuing, the story dredging up memories she’d much rather forget. “He accosted me one night near the end of his visit, in a hallway,” her voice was quiet, but the words seemed to ring out in the small room. “He beat me, raped me, and left me lying there. I likely would have bled out if the Matron hadn’t found me.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t stop her story. “I fell pregnant. I’d told my Mistress, and her and the Grand Moff graciously decided to let me keep the child, at least for the first few years, before they sold him off.”

The Mandalorian stayed silent, sensing that she wasn’t finished. “But when the Lieutenant Commander came back, and found out I was pregnant, he… snapped. He caused me to miscarry in my e–eighth month.” Her voice broke, her chin quivering as she tried to stop her tears. “He k–killed my son, my b–beautiful, innocent b–baby boy,” she sobbed, turning her face and burying it into the soft fabric of the Mandalorian’s cowl. 

He stayed silent, allowing Cerliah to cry for the loss of her baby, but inside, he was furious. Children were revered in Mandalorian culture, raised by the entire clan. Women who fell pregnant wanted for nothing, and were aided throughout the entirety of their pregnancy, attended by some of the best medics in the galaxy. Orphans of war were taken in, raised in the coverts, given a place, taught not just how to fight, but how to live, taught trades and skills that would help them live their lives even if they left the covert. To hear that this Lieutenant Commander murdered an unborn baby, his own son no less, was despicable. He was disgusted. 

He knew he was growing attached to this woman. She had somehow wormed her way into his and the kid’s lives in the short time he’d known her, and as more time passed, he found himself wondering more and more how he was supposed to let her go.

Mando’a Translation: “Hush beautiful, please. Relax, calm down, you’re safe. It’s not real, it’s a dream. Good, beautiful, just calm down.” 

(It’s not exact, but that’s the gist of what Mando is saying.)

[delkios]

Trade Your Ghosts for Heroes (ToRays/ToV)

What started as a silly scene with Cress's pun ended up turning into a nearly 2k post-Mirrage Prison fic. Caveats: I've only played, like, three Tales games and two of those were 15+ years ago so characterizations are primarily based of ToRays depictions. Apologies if they're inaccurate. Also my knowledge of Mirrage Prison is an incomplete hodgepodge of translations and summaries. Apologies if that, too, is inaccurate. Title a re-worded line from Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" because ~what are titles~?

(dreamwidth) (pillowfort) (AO3) Title: Trade Your Ghosts for Heroes Fandom: Tales of the Rays, Tales of Vesperia Rating: PG Word Count: 1996 Characters: Flynn, Yuri, various minor appearances Summary: Following the end of Mirrage Prison, Flynn is finally properly introduced to the other Nexuses. Though everyone kept a clear path to the makeshift medbay, there were plenty of onlookers as Yuri, leading the return group, carried Ix. Which was as good a time as any for Yuri to name each Nexus they passed to Flynn. Proper introductions could be made later but the roster was pretty big, so he may as well get a head start. Raine and Ruca met them just outside the medbay, the young man and Mileena taking Ix from Yuri and bringing him inside with Kocis following close behind. Raine gave the remaining two men a slight smile. "Why don't we go to the conference room," she said with a mild warmth that barely disguised a cool caution- which Yuri would bet she wasn't really trying to disguise. If Flynn wasn't already used to having his every move scrutinized and questioned, Yuri might have been offended on his behalf. "I'm sure everyone would like to officially meet you." The conference room wasn't quite filled with people, many still making their way back to the fortress, but there were still a good number in there. "Yo," Yuri called out to the group, clapping a hand on Flynn's shoulder and pushing him forward slightly. "This is Flynn."

Flynn gave Yuri a sideways, disapproving look when it was clear that was the extent of his introduction. His attention was drawn, however, by a sharp bark. Repede charged at the duo, jumping up so his front paws hit Flynn's shoulders hard enough to rock him back a step and covering the man's chin and cheeks with long licks. "Repede!" He laughed, giving the dog a good scrubbing at the thick fur of his neck. "I'm glad to see you, too!" "I've never seen Repede so happy before," Sophie said, looking envious. With a playful nip at Flynn's fingers, Repede dropped down, moving to sit between Flynn and Yuri's feet as Estelle took his place, embracing Flynn with a great big hug. "Flynn! We were so worried about you!" "I'm sorry for making you worry, Lady Estellise," he gave her a hug and, when she moved aside, held a hand up for Karol to slap with a wide grin. While Judith, Rita and Raven didn't greet him with anything more than warm words and welcoming smiles, they gathered around the latest member of their group like they were worried someone might try to take him away again. Standing toward the back, Velvet gave him a cool once over before declaring more than asking, "So you're the guy Yuri lost his head over?" Flynn laughed, both self-conscious and self-depreciating. "I didn't really apologize for putting you in that position, did I?" He gave his best friend a guilty smile. "Sorry about that." Yuri just scoffed. "What I said about that gloomy expression is still in effect." This laugh was more genuine, "Of course." Expression cautious and arms crossed, Cress asked, "We've heard Baldr's side but I think it's worth us knowing: what exactly possessed you to do such a thing?" Chester's arm shot out like a reflex to punch his best friend in the arm. Unfortunately he only hit pauldron and he half curled over his aching knuckles with a quiet 'ow'. "Well, it wasn't exactly-" Flynn paused for a moment then grinned, "Oh! Very clever!" Estelle giggled, "Cress is very good with word play." Cress gave Chester a smug look and Chester just groaned. "Why does everyone keep encouraging him?" "Yeah, sorry, should've mentioned," Yuri said with dry resignation, "Flynn's got terrible taste in everything." "Including friends, unfortunately," Flynn said, equally dry. "Maybe I won't care so much next time you get bodyjacked." "Or maybe you could react in a less haphazard way." Yuri made a show of scowling. "I get lectured even when it's not my plan." Flynn just gazed back at him coolly. "I'm talking about your particular actions. As always." "Next time I'll submit my snap decisions for you to review before saving your ass." Heads bobbed around the bridge, various Nexuses muttering to themselves or each other, "Definitely childhood friends." "As much as I hate to break up the heartwarming bickering," Raine said in a way that clearly stated this was not the case, "Cress's question is still a valid one." "Yes, ma'am, I apologize," Flynn said and Raine muttered an amused, "Such manners!" into her sleeve. He cleared his throat and said to the room at large, automatically falling into professional knight mode, "Before the procedure that placed Baldr in my body, I was only aware of very few things: I was not in the world I knew and the Asgard Empire was determined to use me in some way. When Baldr and I first... well, spoke, I suppose you could say, he told me that he wasn't able to possess my body without my consent. I could sense he was troubled by the entire process and didn't seem very keen to do it but, he knew as I did, that Mercuria and Naza would find another body if he was unable to use mine. We came to an agreement: I would allow Baldr to use my body but I would retain my consciousness. This allowed open dialogue between us and he even allowed me control of my body on occasion. Despite his misgivings over the Empire's actions, Baldr was loyal and it took some time before I was able to convince him that they needed to be stopped." Flynn cast a sideways look at Yuri. "I suppose I'm lucky for the experience of dealing with someone far more stubborn than he." Yuri just snorted, "You're worse than I am." "Asides from Naza, I was the first to be possessed. Apparently there is something about my ...anima, I believe? That's unique but I'm uncertain as to the details of what that means or even why it is. As far as I'm aware, I've never been any different than Yuri." At his side, Yuri nodded. Had it been Estelle or Raven it would have been obvious, even with Judith or Rita guesses could have easily been made. But the two of them and Karol were just regular guys. Rita stepped in front of him, arms crossed, looking him over as if she could find the answer if she glared at him hard enough. "You should come down to the lab so we can run some tests. I don't know why you would be unique, but that might mean some of the other 'normal' Nexuses we've gathered might also have unique properties. If that's the case, it's definitely something we should know about." "If the bodysnatching process was so easy for you and Baldr," Chester asked, looking like he wasn't sure if he should be upset or not, "why did the Empire have so much trouble with others?" "I think," Flynn said slowly, thinking through his answer, "that has to do with Baldr needing my consent. For that, I had to be... me, still. Awake, aware- but for the others, it's like their minds and personalities were completely rewritten. The Empire had to rework the procedure and," his expression grew dark with guilt, "a number of people were left comatose before they succeeded. I don't know how many or where they were put after, Baldr kept me away from... the failures when he realized how upset I was." Estelle put her hands around one of his, giving it a squeeze. "It's alright, Flynn. We figured out how to bring them back." He let out a shaky breath and grin. "Thank you, Lady Estellise. It's relieving to know. There was only so much I was able to do, even when Baldr decided to help me. I hated being unable to do anything for them." "Yeah, yeah, we know what a bleeding heart you are," Yuri drawled. "Unfortunately, now Psycho Princess is intent on taking Flynn's head in addition to Mileena's, so you should probably lay low for a bit." Raven hummed unhappily. "Kiddo didn't take betrayal too well, huh?" "Guess she's less forgiving than some people," Rita said flatly. Raven's only response was a rueful twist of his lips. A couple others in the room shifted uncomfortably. "If I may take a moment to recap here," Jade said with a feigned thoughtfulness, "in answer to Cress's question, Flynn allowed Baldr to possess his body because he knew the Empire was adamant about using him, if it wasn't his body then Baldr would be placed in someone else, and, because Baldr didn't seem entirely happy about the Living Doll Project as a whole, you thought you might be able to convince him to defect. Is that more or less correct?" "Yes," Flynn said. There was a brief silence, then Raine asked incredulously, "That was your entire thought process?" "Well," Lloyd said in cautious defense, "it worked?" "It is quite the Flynn thing to do," Judith said with amusement. Raven nodded. "Wouldn't expect less from the man that helped get the Union and Empire working together." "I'm sorry everyone," Flynn said softly. "I thought I'd be more useful than I ended up being. I should've done more to help." "Oh," Jade said with flat distaste, "he's one of those genuinely humble types." He them promptly walked out. Yuri snickered at the exit- he certainly hoped watching Jade and Flynn interact would be as amusing as he imagined. But... ignoring the people quick to reassure Flynn he'd been helpful- and keeping the Empire from realizing Baldr had left was very much so -Yuri prodded his friend in the chest hard with the sheathed end of his sword. "I warned you. I'm wiping that look off your face right now." "Wait," Reala looked between Yuri and Flynn. "You're going to fight him? But you just got your friend back." "It's that bastard Baldr's fault," Yuri said decisively, arms crossed over his chest. "I don't care about his reasons or that Flynn agreed to it, I'm pissed that he took over someone's body. But since he went and disintegrated before I could beat his ass, I'll just beat Flynn's for being stupid enough to agree in the first place." Confused and hesitant glances shifted around the room, made all the more so by the fact neither Flynn nor any of their friends seemed at all bothered by this declaration. Reala inched a little closer to Flynn. "Are you alright with this?" He just looked as if that was a strange thing for someone to ask him. "Certainly." "They fight a lot," Karol said like it was perfectly normal. "I haven't let loose in a while," Flynn added with a deceptively angelic smile, "it'll be a nice challenge." "You making preemptive excuses for when you lose?" Yuri asked with a sharp grin. Though Flynn's smile hadn't changed, there was something decidedly less angelic about it. "You know what they say: once is an accident." "You saying my win was a fluke?" "I suppose we'll see." "Wait," Kyle popped in between them with wide eyes, "does that mean Yuri's only beaten you once?" "Oh, well," Flynn chuckled and turned away from Kyle's awed expression, ever the humble knight, "I... suppose I may have won more often than not when we were kids." "All of 'em," Yuri said bluntly. "He won all except for the last." "It really isn't as impressive as it- er?" Suddenly Cress and Luke were on either side of Flynn, grabbing an arm each. "Sorry, Yuri. You'll have to postpone your match a bit," Cress said brightly. "Yeah," Luke added, "I have got to see what this guy can do!" Then, using Flynn as a pivot point, the two turned around and started pulling Flynn out of the room. "O-oh, um... okay?" Flynn called out even as he was dragged away. "It was nice meeting everyone!" Yuri just sighed while Estelle and Karol giggled. "Always the charmer," he drawled with- and he'd deny it if confronted -a spark of fondness in his eyes.

[grayzaweek]

Prompt 1: Koi no Yokan

Written by: @born-potty

A/N: I had to. Hope you enjoy.

All of his life, Gray had struggled against the notion of Fate. Or Destiny. Or any crap like that. Like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix. I still needta watch John Wick 2. Dammit.

Loke had been unable to stop gushing about it. Apparently the sequel had outdone the original. He had his doubts, though. The first one had been really good, but sequels tended to not live up to the originals. Not all the time anyway.

Gray loosened his tie and yawned. It was the wrong time to do so since the train came to a lurching halt. Gulping down the yawn, he immediately reached up and grabbed the overhead handle to stop himself from slamming into other people in the already crowded train.

But it didn’t stop someone else from crashing into him.

The evening rush hour was always worse than the morning. On their way to work, people smelled so nice and fresh. On their way back, they smelled of defeat and sweat and disappointment. Nobody had a single damn to give anymore, so Gray expected people to bump into him.

He honestly never expected a cute redhead to bump into him.

The woman placed both of her palms on his chest to stop herself from hugging him. With one hand holding the handle and the other guarding his wallet, Gray had no means to push her away or even stabilise her. Not that she needed it, of course. No sooner had the train halted that she’d straightened with a muttered apology, brushing away the few stray strands of crimson hair which had come loose from her ponytail and tucking them behind her ear.

Is this the gods’ way of making it up to me after I attended an all-boy’s highschool?

She wore a business suit, the top two buttons of her white dress shirt now open. Her bangs were clipped to the right side of her head, and brown eyes now downcast behind her glasses.

Gray smiled. He knew he was about to say something very weird. The stars had aligned to make him bump into someone who wasn’t a hairy, overweight man with a dandruff problem. No way in hell could his poor social skills not muck this up.

“I see you just fell for me.”

She looked up. The doors of the train closed and it started moving again. Gray gulped. With the doors, his opportunity of hightailing it had also just closed.

I should not be allowed to talk to people.

“I beg your pardon, but I fell on you. There is a difference.”

There was an edge of sarcasm to her voice, but she mostly just sounded tired. Gray was happy that she hadn’t kneed him in the nuts. Anything he got was better than what he’d anticipated.

“Right. Of course. Sorry,” he said quickly and turned towards the window. What was I thinking about again? I lost my train of thought on a train. Ahh, I crack myself up.

He watched the lights flash by outside as evening settled over the city. The voice-lady announced the next stop and he sighed. His stop was still a long way off. About a half hour more of dangling. Just what he needed.

“Thank you, though.”

Wait, what? He blinked down at the redhead, who offered a small smile. “For holding me. Thank you.”

“I, uh, I didn’t-”

“I know. But you were more gracious than the others.”

You say that like you’re a connoisseur of bumping into people or something.

“Yes, well, neither do people greet each other with lame puns.”

“Yet you did.”

“What can I say?” Gray shrugged nonchalantly. “I felt something was missing in my life, so I took a course in weirdness after highschool.”

That made her grin. “It seems to have served you well.”

He couldn’t help his chuckle. “You’re the first one to say that to me, Miss.”

“Aren’t you lucky, then?”

“Very. I would shuffle my feet like a country bumpkin, but as you can see, I’m a bit short on space at the moment.”

Bringing up a hand to cover her mouth, she laughed. Gray liked the sound of that. It was nice. Soft and sonorous. Like church bells ringing on a lazy summer afternoon. Wait, no, too poetic.

The train-voice announced the oncoming station and Gray let go of the handle. “You hold it.”

She looked hesitant. “Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. I’m used to it.”

And he was. When the train slowed down, Gray leant forward on the balls of his feet, against the momentum, and lowered himself down on his heels when the train stopped. The woman had taken his hanging handle with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As people disembarked, he looked around for empty seats but frowned upon not finding any. The train started again and he leant back against the momentum this time. Like a pro, Fullbuster. Full points.

“I’m Erza, by the way. Erza Scarlet.” She must’ve seen his grin, because she rolled her eyes. “Yes, like my hair.”

Still smiling, he said, “Gray Fullbuster. Gray… like my life, I guess.”

The corners of her lips twitched, but she fought back the smile. “Fullbuster? That’s… odd.”

“I know. Evidently, when I get busted, it’s always in full. No half-assing.” He sighed dramatically. “Such is my lamentable legacy.”

“But hey, if you get busted a lot, you cannot say your life is gray.”

“Ah, but I don’t. I always get away with it. I’m just that good.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and put in his breast pocket. “But I’m thinking I might start a law firm or a private investation agency.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Scarlet and Gray, Discreet Investigations. I can see it now. It’d be pretty colourful.”

“Heh. Thank you for putting me first.”

“I’m a gentleman at heart, you know.”

“Oh? I see chivalry is not as dead as I thought.”

He smiled at that. “You know the chivalric code started out as a treatise on how to kill people, right?”

“Do you mean how the chivalry is derived from the Old French chevalerie horse-soldiery and was translated as cavalry in later times?” She tilted her head and smiled brightly. “Why no, Gray, I did not know that.”

Gray nodded, impressed. “Well, ya know what they say. Right action is better than knowledge; but in order to do what is right, we must know what is right.”

Her eyes sparkled as he said it. “Would that I had twelve clerks so learned in all wisdom and so perfectly trained as is Gray Fullbuster.”

He laughed aloud. “The Maker of heaven and earth has not many like to that man and do you expect to have twelve?”

“Why Gray,” she said with a smirk, “I do believe you just became my new favourite person.”

“What, I can just become your favourite person by quoting some Charlemagne?” He tutted. “You have low standards, Erza.”

They went back and forth like that for a time, their topics ranging from Beowulf (“Talk about plot armour, huh?”), to the Ramayana (“He knew how to uphold what was right, King Rama.”), to the Trojan War (“Pshh. Helen. What a bitch.”), to Troy (“It is unfortunate how Heinrich Schliemann destroyed what he was looking for. Imagine excavating Troy with today’s technology!”), to the German school of fencing (“Liechtenauer’s still pretty easy, though.”) and finally to medieval Italian armour.

“I rather like it,” Erza stated.

“Better than the German version?”

“Gothic armour is beautiful, but there is just something about the asymmetrical pauldrons of Italian armour that just speaks to me.”

“Fair enough.” Gray listened to the train-lady call out the name of his approaching stop. He smiled. “Well, that’s my stop coming up.”

Erza nodded. “I see. It was good talking to you, Gray.”

“Likewise.” He felt the train starting to slow down. “Listen, I know this is random and weird, but could I ask for your number? It’s not every day that I meet someone who speaks my language.”

She smiled mischievously. “Are you lowering your standards, Gray?”

“Hey, I have no dignity.”

“I leave it to Fate. If we are meant to meet again, we shall.” The train stopped. “Go. You’ll miss your stop.”

Gray didn’t believe in Fate. Or Destiny. Or any of that crap. Like Aaron Eckhart in The Dark Knight. He liked to make his own luck.

He remembered how Ultear had written to him from Japan that very morning saying that she’d met some guy with a tattoo on his face and they’d been going out. Said that she’d felt something hit her in the feels when they’d first met. Said it was what J. K. Rowling felt when she’d first conceptualised Harry Potter on that damn train ride.

It’s this incredibly elated feeling you get when you’ve just met someone with whom you might eventually fall in love with, she’d written. The Japanese have a phrase for that, you know. Koi no Yokan. Not exactly Fate or Destiny. But Inevitability, I suppose. Hitsuzen, if you remember Cardcaptor Sakura.

That damn cousin of his would never let him live down the fact that he’d watched – and enjoyed – what was essentially a girl’s show.

Gray didn’t claim to understand all that Japanese jiggery-pokery, but he thought that it was what he felt as he stared at the smiling redhead before him. As if he’d met someone wonderful and they were about to embark on some wondrous affair. A kind of excitement and light-headedness that he couldn’t quite decipher.

While he didn’t believe in the Fate crap, this Koi no Yokan business didn’t sound all that bad.

So Gray smiled back at Erza as the doors closed and the train lurched forward.

“Y’know what,” he said and brought out his phone. “It’s not my stop after all. Now, how about that number?”