#commander wolffe x oc

[reader6898]

Everyone, meet my oc Talia. Thank you @amalthiaph for drawing her for me. Now everyone can put a face to the woman that started it all for me and is the love of Wolffe's life. If you want OCS drawn and haven't commissioned @amalthiaph I highly recommend her as she's very talented

[clonesimpextra]

A Shattered Peace: Chapter 12

A Bit Like Home

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Pairing: Commander Wolffe x FemJedi!OC Word Count: 5.5K Chapter Rating: T Chapter Summary: Abregado, from Amara's POV. A/N: *Cries in six months since I last posted a chapter* Also available on AO3

Amara stared out the viewport of the Sagacious, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The Four-Fourteen were returning to Coruscant, finally, after a month of back-to-back missions. She should have felt relief, eagerness even. But that feeling, gnawing away at her insides, told Amara that something, somewhere, was very very wrong.

“You’ve run the systems check?”

Beside her, Commander Riv nodded. “Twice now, Sir. Everything’s working as it should.”

“And the scanners?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” In the corner of her eye she saw him turn toward her, but Amara stayed staring at the blue-white rush of hyperspace. “The Four-Fourteen’s fine, General.”

She pursed her lips. “I know.”

And she did. Nothing was wrong with her battalion. They were safe and well and on their way to a much deserved break. But that feeling … she’d never been wrong about that feeling before. 

Which could mean only one other thing.

Amara raised her wrist and keyed in a code on her comm. “Comet, this is General Kora. I need you on the bridge.”

*****

Three Weeks Earlier – Somewhere Outside the Ryloth System

“I appreciate your concern, Master Plo, but the Four-Fourteen and I have it handled.”

“Even so, I’ve sen—” the holo in front of Amara flickered in and out, breaking up Plo’s response. “He’ll arrive so—”

“Master Plo?” Amara fiddled with the frequency, trying to get his projection back on the table.

“It’s no use, Sir,” Flame spoke from the control port. “We’ve lost external comms.”

“Excellent.” She glanced around the room. “Anyone have a clue what he was trying to say?”

There was silence for a beat and then, “Not so much what he said, general, but a ship just exited the nearest hyperspace lane. ”

Amara turned to the screen Captain Hall was pointing at, narrowing in on the flashing beacon. “Is that an x-wing, Captain?”

“Yes, Sir, I believe it is.”

She shook her head. Overprotective and meddling men. That’s what the entire 104th was made up of now, she supposed.

“Captain Hall, try to figure out the communications issue and make sure it doesn’t cross over to anything else. I won’t have us completely cut off whenever the Seppies finally decide to make a move.”

“Yes, general.” Hall paused, raised an eyebrow. “Is that the ship I think it is?”

“Yes it is, Captain.” Amara sighed. “I hope we have a spare bunk.”

*****

One of the very first things Master Plo had ever taught Amara after she’d become his Padawan was to never be afraid to accept help. He’d taught her through his own actions, letting her assist him on missions or with tasks that he could have easily done on his own, liaising with other Jedi to solve problems Amara knew for a fact he’d already solved in his head. 

She’d questioned him about it once. When he’d let her lead them on a roundabout route across a seemingly barren planet and gotten them into a scuffle with the locals. Plo, gracious as always, set things straight and led them to safety within a standard hour.

“You could have taken over from the start.” She’d pouted, arms crossed and kicking at a patch of grass as they walked. “All my ‘help’ did was cause more trouble.”

“I don’t view it that way. Neither should you.”

Amara stopped in her tracks and stared at him until he turned to face her. “I almost got us killed.”

Plo chuckled. “Far from it, young one. The locals were merely curious. As were we.” He gestured to the area around them. “And now we know more about this planet and these people than we did before. Far more,” he tilted his head, “than we would have if I’d led us directly to our destination.”

Amara let her eyes wonder across the plains around them, pushing down the uneasiness at the way the grass against her calves echoed grass on another planet from long ago. She took in the purple blue sky, suns settling in the distance. It was a beautiful place. Still … “I didn’t plan this.”

Wrinkles appeared around Plo’s mask and she knew he was smiling. “When we accept help, we accept everything that comes with it. Expected and unexpected alike.” He turned to watch the setting suns with her. “How much more pleasant it is to view that with excitement at discovering something new than with trepidation about the unknown.”

As she stood in the hangar bay now, watching a maroon-striped x-wing settle into the space across from her, Amara tried to keep Plo’s words in mind. Help should be welcomed. Even if she didn’t need it.

Even if she strongly suspected Plo was relying on her remembering what he taught her so she wouldn’t be upset that he was being overprotective.

She grit her teeth and waited for the ship door to open.

When it did, and an all too familiar clone stepped out, Amara felt all the anger in her deflate. There were only so many people Plo could have sent that would have guaranteed a less angry response from her, and Comet was top of that list.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t still going to demand some answers, though.

She raised her voice to be heard over the hangar clatter. “He sent you before he even made the call, didn’t he?”

Comet took his helmet off, a grimace already visible. “The general or the commander?”

Amara blinked. She had meant Master Plo, but now that Comet mentioned it …

“This was Wolffe’s idea?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You pretty much did, Comet.”

Comet scratched at the back of his neck, squinting over Amara’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, General?”

Amara opened her mouth to get them back on topic, to remind Comet that as happy as she was to see him, she didn’t need a babysitter. But something in the clone’s voice stopped her. 

In all her time with the 104th, Comet had always been the calm, lighthearted, happy one of the group. The first to try and put a smile on everyone’s faces. His words just now fit that category, on the surface. But Amara could feel all was not exactly right. Not at all.

She tilted her head, took in the dark circles under Comet’s eyes. The too-thin lines of his mouth trying to smile, but not quite succeeding. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked a few times, not-quite-a-smile wavering for a moment before he pulled himself up straighter. “I’m just here to help, Sir.”

Amara didn’t buy it, not for a second. Especially not when she opened up to the Force and felt something hovering in Comet’s soft yellow aura that she’d never associated with him before: shame and hatred. There was much more at stake than he was letting on.

She stopped in the hallway, and, after glancing at the passing clones, pulled them into a quiet corner. Comet avoided her eyes as she put a hand on his shoulder. “I might not be your commander anymore, Comet. But I still know when something’s wrong.” She waited until he finally looked back at her before continuing. “And I don’t need to be your commander to still care, either. Wolffe sent you for a reason. I’d like to know what that reason is.”

Comet leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. “Permission to tell you once we finish this mission?”

Amara peered at him for a moment longer, tempted to remind him that secrets didn’t make for successful missions. She would listen, she would understand. But she remembered something Wolffe had said to her as she’d watched his brothers leave a small pile of helmets on a coral reef on Tibrin, before everything had gone to shit but after they’d already lost too many. She’d wanted to go to them, to share in their grief and comfort them. Wolffe held her back with a hand on her arm and just a few words:

They don’t need you to comfort them. They need you to listen.

So she swallowed back her words, let her hand fall from Comet’s shoulder, and nodded. “Permission granted. Let’s get you up to speed, yeah?”

Comet released another breath and the Force around him lightened, just a bit. “Yes, Sir.”

*****

Despite everyone’s worries, the mission — several tricky supply runs to refugees on the neighboring planets of Ryloth — went off without a hitch. And despite Amara’s concerns, Comet had been immensely helpful. He’d let the reconnaissance skills he was so well known for in the 104th take over during the mission, and if Amara hadn’t known better, she’d have said he was perfectly fine. It didn’t help that working alongside someone she’d trained with for months instead of just a couple of weeks was easy to fall back into.

So easy, that part of her almost wanted to leave it alone. To let Comet do what he wanted so long as it meant a part of the 104th could stay with her. And maybe that’s what Commander Kora, someone who never really had to make final decisions and could rely on others to pick up where she slacked off, would have done. 

But that wasn’t what General Kora, responsible for every soldier under her name, could let herself do.

When they entered hyperspace and left Ryloth’s nearest moon far behind, Amara found Comet alone in the training room, staring down a punching bag.

“You know,” she said, walking up to the other side of the bag, “I found Wolffe in exactly this position just before we last left Coruscant. Turns out he had a few things he wanted to say, too.”

“Guess it runs in the genes.” He nodded at the bag and Amara held it steady, bracing for his punches.

“I’ll take your word for it because I’ve given up trying to figure that one out.”

Comet landed his first one-two punch, eyes focused, mouth set in a firm line. Then he landed another. And another. And more until there were no breaks between the sets and Amara was relying on the Force to keep the bag from swinging into her face. She stayed in her position, regardless. Comet had something he needed to work through, and he was allowing her to exist in his space while he figured it out. She’d learned from Wolffe that such a thing wasn’t something she should take for granted.

Finally, when his punches came more slowly and his breathing evened out, Comet spoke.

“The last mission the Wolfpack was on …” he grabbed the bag and looked off to the side, the Force around him tense. “I fucked it up.”

Amara had assumed whatever was bothering him would have come from something like that. She’d looked up the mission report, chest briefly aching at the familiarity of Wolffe’s detailed writing. There had been trouble at the Nexus, a floating trading post on Quarmendy, and Plo had sent the Wolfpack to secure the planet away from Separatist control.

 She moved to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. “I read about the mission. Aside from the Nexus being destroyed, it seems like everything was a success. About as good as it gets these days, anyway.”

“Do you know how many people died in that explosion?”

“They weren’t able to gather exact numbers,” she let her hand slide away, “but Wolffe estimated about two dozen in his report.”

Comet nodded and stepped away from the bag, eyes still focused on the far wall. “It was my fault, the explosion. Said the wrong thing to Tambor at the wrong time.” He shook his head. “Those people … their deaths are on my hands. Most of them didn’t even have anything to do with the war.”

“The report didn’t say anything—”

“Yeah,” Comet laughed ruefully, finally looking at her, “Wolffe’s real good at not pointing any fingers. Said it was a ‘collective oversight’ so I wouldn’t risk getting a mark against me.”

Amara hesitated, crossing her arms over her chest and wondering what in the hells she could say to him. The clones were made for war, for battle, for casualties and hard choices. Despite how open Wolffe had been with her — and if she was honest with herself, he hadn’t really been all that open —, most of his brothers were good at hiding what their true feelings about everything might be. 

She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of a guilty war-time confession.

She did, however, have some idea of what Comet was feeling. She imagined it wasn’t altogether very different from how she’d felt in the immediate aftermath of Tibrin. No one had been able to explain or excuse her guilt away, and she had a feeling the same would be true for Comet.

So, despite the fact that she knew Wat Tambor would have destroyed the Nexus regardless of what Comet did or didn’t say, Amara focused on something the clone could answer.

“Then why are you here, Comet? Wolffe wouldn’t send you away for something he doesn’t blame you for.”

“Believe me, he didn’t want to.” Comet hesitated, words coming more slowly. “I asked for a break.”

“But a break is—” Amara blinked as the reality of what he’d said settled around her. Anger took over her confusion and she ignored her previous determination to be gentle with him. “What the fuck were you thinking asking for that?”

Comet looked a bit ashamed but at least had the decency to not turn away from her. “Wolffe wasn’t too happy with me either.”

Amara took a moment to calm the rising anger and horror in her chest. Of course Wolffe wouldn’t have been happy. For a clone, ‘taking a break’ wasn’t a respite or a holiday or anything that resulted in some kind of calm. ‘Taking a break’ was being sent to Kamino for secondary duty, risking analyses and tests that could result in battalion transfer or sanitation duty or something much, much worse that the clones never even wanted to talk about. ‘Taking a break’ was effectively asking to be set out to pasture and forgotten about. How the hell had Comet come to this in the two months since she’d last seen him?

The same way you almost stepped away after Tibrin.

Amara closed her eyes and took a breath. She could see very clearly now why Wolffe had sent Comet to her rather than anyone else.

So instead of a lecture full of words that wouldn’t really mean anything, Amara sat down on the padded floor and gestured for Comet to join her.

“You know … I questioned everything after Tibrin. When I blew up that last reef? I wasn’t even thinking of the people on it. The only thing on my mind was protecting my men, buying us a little more time to figure something out.” She took breath. “I haven’t told anyone this. Haven’t even let myself think it, but … I could feel when they died. I was in the water, halfway back to our reef and everything around me just lost its color for a moment. The water wasn’t that bright turquoise, the corals weren’t that dusty pink. It was all grey.”

Amara replayed that moment in her mind. Could feel the waves rushing against her chest, the agony of such an abrupt loss threatening to pull her under. When she’d pulled herself up onto the reef, she’d acted like it was no big deal, just another action in the time of war that she’d swallow down. But it had taken everything in her just to turn her back on the destruction she’d wrought. 

“When one of you dies,” she finally looked at Comet then, saw him focused intently on her, “or one of the Jedi, I feel it. The loss, the pain. The freedom, sometimes. But nothing … nothing ever quite like that before. We got on the Resolute and I didn’t want to risk ever putting myself in that position again.”

Comet nodded, a rush of empathy coloring the Force around him. “What changed your mind?”

“Master Plo.” Amara smiled, thinking of the talk they’d had in one of the Temple gardens. “He told me the Republic need generals who learned from their mistakes and who genuinely cared. To take one more position away from those who might not.” 

“Do you ever wish you’d made a different choice?”

Every day, a voice inside of her whispered. But Amara wasn’t sure that was entirely true. Yes, she spent a few moments every day thinking on her choices. Thinking on the paths that led her to where she was. But that didn’t mean she regretted the life she’d committed to.

“I wonder if what I’m doing actually makes a difference. If what I’m adding that’s ‘good’ balances the bad.”

Comet sighed. “I know what you mean. I’m afraid of what other guilt I’ll have to carry around. Of what else this war will make me do that tips that balance in the wrong direction.”

“Then don’t let it,” Amara shook her head, trying to shake away the truth in Comet’s words. “That guilt you feel, Comet, it doesn’t have to consume you. Learn from it. Let it make you better. Let it make you even more of the kind of soldier that maybe we don’t deserve but that we desperately, desperately need.”

They let the words hang between them. Amara wondered what Wolffe would think of everything she’d just said to Comet. It wasn’t more or less than anything they’d said to each other. But there was something different about sharing this, something she’d used to forge a connection with Wolffe, with someone else. The thought brought with it an overwhelming sense of longing in the pit of her stomach.

She swallowed tightly around the pain as Comet shifted next to her. She could think about Wolffe later. Maybe she’d send him a message, ask to debrief back on Coruscant. She could make time in her schedule for him. She would make time.

“You know,” Comet chuckled to himself, pulling Amara away from her thoughts, “I get it now.”

A smile pulled at her lips as Comet kept laughing. “Get what?”

“Why Wolffe likes talking to you so much.” He wiped at his eyes, missing the blush that rose to Amara’s cheeks.

She didn’t speak to the men about what Wolffe might or might not think about her. The conversation with Sinker that last night with the 104th was the closest she’d gotten and she was thankful for that. It was hard enough dealing with her feelings without knowing what he said about her to other people. 

Still … it wouldn’t hurt to know just a little. After all, it had been nearly two months since she’d last seen him.

“How would you know that?”

Comet raised an eyebrow at her. “He sent me here for a reason, right?”

Right. That was it. Of course Wolffe didn’t talk about her with Comet in any other way. Why would he? They were just—

“And he told me to give you this after the mission.” Comet reached into the pouch of his belt lying next to him and pulled out a holo puck, guilt hedging into his smile. “I would have given it to you sooner, but I knew you’d want to talk and I just … wasn’t ready.”

He placed the puck in her palm and Amara had to remind herself to breathe. The promise of hearing Wolffe’s voice again, after so long without it, was enough to make her want to sprint back to her quarters, abandoning Comet on the training room floor. She shook her head and put the puck away safely in her own belt and eyed Comet.

“You’re lucky you didn’t lose that.”

“And risk never being allowed to return to the 104th?” He placed a hand over his heart. “No chance.”

Amara hummed, pleased to hear a bit of the old Comet back in his voice. “So … no ‘taking a break’?”

Comet huffed out a breath. “No. No, I think I’ve put that behind me.”

Unexpected tears stung the back of Amara’s eyes and she blinked them away before he could see. Maybe agreeing to be a general, agreeing to keep fighting in this war she still wasn’t sure about, had been worth it, even if just for this.

“Well, if you ever need ‘a break’ again,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “you’re always welcome here. Let that phrase mean something else from now on, understood?”

Comet nodded, face serious but the Force much lighter around him than she’d seen it since he first arrived on her ship. “Yes, General.”

“Good.”

Amara stood up, checking briefly to make sure Wolffe’s holo puck was safely tucked away, before pulling Comet up with her. He smiled, gathering up his things to leave. But Amara hesitated. 

Now that she was free to run off and listen to Wolffe’s message in peace, she found that she was terrified to hear what he had to say. Her expectations, she feared, were too high. She cleared her throat and, when Comet glanced back at her, she gestured to the square in the centre of the training room where the clones usually sparred.

“The Four-Fourteen are good sparring buddies, but it’s hard to beat the 104th. Think I might be getting a bit rusty.”

Comet stared at her for a moment, clearly reading between the lines. If he’d been Boost he would have called her out on it. Sinker would have shook his head and walked away. But Comet was, despite everything, still Comet. He smiled and dropped his stack of armor.

“I did notice you struggling to hold that punching bag still, General. Sure you’re up for a round?”

Amara followed him to the square, relief relaxing her shoulders and centering her mind away from Wolffe. At least a bit.

“I said I was rusty. Not that I couldn’t still kick your shebs into the next sector.”

Comet laughed and it sounded just a bit like home.

*****

An hour later, Amara walked into her quarters, sweaty from sparring and finally ready to listen to Wolffe’s message.

Well, she looked down at her shaking hands, maybe ‘ready’ was a bit of an overstatement.

Comms with the 104th had never recovered after their initial breakdown when Comet arrived, and any contact she’d had with her old battalion preceding that had been only with Plo. Amara tried not to read into that.

She took out the holo puck from her belt and tossed it between her hands, feeling the cool metal against her skin and thinking of the last words she’d said to Wolffe, back on Coruscant. 

See you around, Wolffe.

It had been a promise, small and subtle enough to ignore if they wanted. But she didn’t want to. And she didn’t think he did, either. They’d see each other again, so long as they survived. They’d exist in each other’s lives, even if that existence looked a little different than before. Whatever was on this holo had all the leverage in determining just how different that existence would be.

She wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted, but maybe that was for the best. If she couldn’t decide between her feelings and her duty, then whatever Wolffe said, whichever way his message might lean, stood no chance of disappointing her.

Master Plo would have seen right through that excuse, but he wasn’t here. Amara was alone. And she could make that excuse her reality as much as she damn well pleased.

Settled, Amara set the puck on the shelf next to her bunk, turned it on before she lost the nerve, and curled up with her back against the wall, ready.

When the blue-white recording of Commander Wolffe of the 104th Battalion smiled across at her, a softness in the wavering depths of his eyes that she hadn’t known she’d missed, Amara let herself relax and she let herself smile back.

****

I’ll see you around, Amara. I don’t know when or in what way, but I’ll see you. That’s a promise I know I can keep.

The end of Wolffe’s recording echoed in Amara’s mind as she tried to explain to Comet why she’d called him to the bridge when she couldn’t exactly explain it herself. Wolffe would never break a promise, if he said he would see her again, he would. 

Unless he’s dead. Amara blinked the voice away.

“If you’ve had any contact at all with the 104th, Comet, I need to know.”

He could be dead.

Comet shook his head, the rest of his body perfectly still. “No, General. Not since I left the Triumphant three weeks ago. Are you sure it’s not just an issue with our own comms?”

He’s probably dead. Amara stared out into the whirl of hyperspace, letting Riv answer for her.

“Comms are working fine now. We’ve sent messages back to Coruscant, requesting an update and received nothing back so far.” Riv glanced at her but Amara stayed staring forward. “But the general has a … feeling.”

The weight of Comet’s stare added to Riv’s. They were waiting for her to say something, anything. Amara couldn’t get her mouth to move.

“General,” Comet moved to stand next to her, eyes still on her instead of the viewport. “What kind of feeling?”

Amara finally looked up at him and saw all the fear she felt reflected in his dark eyes. She owed him, of all people on this ship, an answer. She didn’t have one, but she had to give him something. She was the general here, it was her job to keep the men moving, alleviate their worries, give them some hope. She cleared her throat, ready to tell Comet it was just a worry, maybe an overreaction.

And then her head exploded into a thousand pieces.

“General?” Hands grabbed at her, trying to … pull her up? Was she no longer standing? “General Kora what’s wrong?”

Amara shook the hands off, her skin sensitive with a deep-seated ache as she pushed her own hands against her forehead, trying to escape the pain. She could see everything around her in staggering clarity, but it was grey, so grey. Grey like it was on Tibrin when so many people died all at once.

It was happening again. The loss. The pain. The ache in the Force. But this time was so so much worse. She’d been naive, back then, to think she’d experienced the worse of death. This felt like pieces of her brain, of her heart, ceasing to exist. She couldn’t speak.

Dead

She could sense people moving around her, could feel the ship humming beneath her, could see the lines of worry in every face. Was that Comet? Ordering a medic to help her? And Riv, messing with the communications hub? 

She couldn’t speak.

They’re all dead.

She couldn’t—

“This is a message for General Amara Kora of the 414th battalion.” Master Windu’s voice, always a solace to her, pulled her back from the brink. Amara blinked and stared at his outline on the holo table, everything else fading into the background even as the pounding in her head and chest continued. “The 104th have encountered a dangerous new weapon and we have lost contact. The 414th is to continue back to Coruscant immediately. We do not yet know how to defeat this weapon and we cannot afford to lose another battalion.” He stared at her. She wasn’t sure he could actually see her, didn’t know if this was live or recorded, but he stared right at her. The seriousness of his next words highlighted by the stern set of his mouth. “There is nothing you can do right now. Return to the Temple and we will debrief you there.”

The holo winked out of view and Master Windu’s voice was replaced by Comet’s.

“He didn’t tell us where they were when they lost contact. Why didn’t he tell us where they were?”

Amara leaned against the table, brushing off their medic, Helix, with a gentle nudge. “Because he knew if he told me, I’d ignore his orders and take us there anyway.”

Comet scoffed. “Because that’s the reasonable thing to do, General. We’re a full battalion, we can help.”

Amara stared at the empty holo table, wincing at the similar emptiness she felt in her head, in her heart, in the very core of her being. Every bone in her body was screaming at her to exert all of the 414th’s resources on finding out where the 104th was. She needed to find them. Needed to know exactly how many of them were dead.

Because they were dead. She could feel the absence of so many she’d come to know over the past months, even if she couldn’t pinpoint exactly who the absences belonged to. They were dead. They were dead. They were dead.

There was absolutely nothing she could do about that now, but she could get these men, these very alive men, back to Coruscant. To whatever passed for safety these days. 

I don’t know how long I’ll last in this war. Amara closed her eyes for just a moment against Wolffe’s words before she straightened up and let go of the holo table.

She looked Comet directly in the eye, because she owed him that much. “We increase our speed as safely as possible. But we continue our path to Coruscant all the same.”

Comet shook his head, anger darkening his Force color. “You don’t mean that.”

She turned her attention to the 414th clones on the bridge and spoke with as much strength as she could muster. “Understood?”

“Yes, Sir”s echoed around her and Amara made her way the bridge door.

“General, you should come with me.” Helix blocked her exit, concern etched across his brow. “If I hadn’t watched you in there just now, I’d say you have a concussion.”

Amara shook her head, holding back a wince at the staggering pain. “I’m fine, Helix. I just need to meditate.” She waved a hand and pushed past him. “Jedi stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

She had the vague impression of Helix protesting behind her, but she continued on down the hall and toward her quarters. Her head screamed with every step, something pulled at her heart with every breath. She needed to lie down. She needed to meditate. She needed to figure out what the fuck had happened.

She needed, desperately, to let herself cry.

“Wolffe would go after you.”

Amara stopped, hand reaching out to palm her door open, and tried to focus past the pain. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Comet.”

“The hell I do, General. He would go after you. And you know it."

I miss you, Amara … It’s enough for me to know that you know.

Amara pulled her hand back and turned to face Comet, the light behind him making her squint. “No he wouldn’t. He would get his men to safety. He would—” She paused to rub at her eyes. The light was too fucking bright. “He would put everyone and their needs ahead of himself and his wants because that’s what we do. I have a responsibility to these men. Wolffe would understand that.” 

“You used to have a responsibility to the 104th, too. General.”

His words hung between them, weighing the air down and threatening to bring forth the tears Amara was trying so hard to keep at bay. This wasn't the Comet she knew. Even at his worst, he'd never talked to her this way. But she could feel his pain in the Force alongside his anger and it matched her own. She was the general, he was the soldier, and she was responsible for him. Regardless of whether he believed it or not.

“I don’t think Wolffe would have sent you to me if he didn’t think I still took that responsibility seriously.” She turned away from him and opened her door. “Get some rest, Comet.”

The door swished close behind her, but not before she heard the loud thump of a fist connecting with a durasteel wall. 

Pulling Wolffe’s holo puck out of her belt, Amara sank to the floor. With shaking hands, she turned on the recording.

General Kora … Amara. I asked Comet to give you this recording …

As words she’d already memorized consumed her, Amara tentatively reached into the Force, searching for his distinct signature. They were so connected, so in tune with one another that surely she’d feel him. Surely she’d be able to know for certain if he was …

A wall of pain blocked her from searching further. Her connection with the Force was too fraught, too sensitive, too overwhelmed with loss. If she tried any harder, she’d risk hurting herself permanently.

I hope that when you’re listening to this, you’re rolling your eyes and muttering something about how I didn’t need to explain it so much because you already knew. 

Amara looked back at the holo, eyes tracing the quirk of Wolffe’s lips, the gentle set of his arms crossed over his chest. 

I also hope you know that I’m explaining it all because I miss you.

As a sob yanked itself free from her too-tight throat, Amara covered her face and finally let herself cry.

[sinfulsalutations]

Listen I'm really feeling Eve x Wolffe for some reason (I just feel it in my bones) so if you could give some headcanons for them for the OC ask game I'd love it!!

⋆ ★ ᴅᴇᴇᴊᴀ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ɢᴇɴɪᴜꜱ. ᴇᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴꜱᴛᴀɴᴛʟʏ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏ ɪᴅᴇᴀ. ꜱᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪᴛ ɢᴏᴇꜱ…

𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕩 𝕨𝕠𝕝𝕗𝕗𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ

SUCH a hot couple, like holy shit. if you saw them at 79’s or on some GAR base just lowly talking to each other all you would be thinking is how good they look together. And intimidating.

They gossip. A lot.

Eve has somehow gotten Wolffe to join her for a good amount of her allotted meditation time. He enjoys it more than he’s expressed.

When Wolffe’s stern expressions aren’t communicating what he wants them to when talking to someone, Eve talks for him. She tends to add in some colorful language as well.

Eve likes to joke they have matching eye scars, so they were meant for each other.

Stolen kisses on base. If the other commanders found out he was doing such a thing he’d be so embarrassed.

They agree on wayyy more things than each of them expected. It’s a sweet little surprise.

Keldabe kisses before any mission or deployment. It’s necessary. Neither of them knows who started it but neither of them forget it. Ever.

Wolffe teaches her how to properly handle a blaster.

From his experience with lightsabers, he doesn’t want it around, and Eve understands that and keeps it out of sight, out of mind. She just hopes he understands that he’d never hurt him like that and would much more likely defend him to her death with it.

He could swear that she is the only person who has ever made him smile. Even if it weren’t technically the truth.

Nights at 79’s. Eve is a mean drunk, and will occasionally call Wolffe names and playfully shun him, only to later in the night when he’s taking her back to the base leave sloppy kisses all over his jaw and neck, mouthing sincere apologies into his skin.

Before Eve and Wolffe became a thing, Plo Koon and her never were on the best terms. She was an irritating padawan for everyone. But as they talk more he grows to respect her and acknowledge her growth and talent as a Jedi. So basically, the dad approves.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @meshlaxbunny @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @imarvelatthestars

[dystopicjumpsuit]

I would like to know your ideas and thoughts on Cerra and Wolffe 👀

For the shipping and the thotting👀

Did somebody say... thots?

Wolffe x Cerra is GOOOO! Mature content below the cut; MDNI as always.

It was hate at first sight for our intrepid heroes. Cerra thought Wolffe was an uptight prick; Wolffe thought Cerra was an interfering menace. Strong opinions escalated into strong words, which subsequently escalated into a one-sided prank war. Wolffe knew exactly who was responsible for putting edible glitter in his caf, but he was determined not to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she was getting to him. Unfortunately for the good commander, Cerra's habit of adopting troopers as her little brothers extended to Boost and Sinker, which meant that they covered for her every single time.

Things finally came to a head when he caught her in his quarters at GAR HQ on Coruscant, replacing all of his gloves with child-sized versions. He called her a relentless harpy; she called him a raging scughole; he retorted that she'd made his life a living hell; she asked if he was going to cry like a whiny little bitch. They slung insults back and forth, each more ridiculous than the last, until Cerra started laughing uncontrollably. At which point, Wolffe realized they were both being di'kute and asked if she wanted to go out for drinks.

Boost and Sinker were horrified when they realized Wolffe was getting it on with their adoptive sister. Wolffe may have flaunted it a bit as revenge for their betrayal during the Great Prank War.

After they'd been seeing each other for several weeks, Wolffe finally admitted that he'd gotten turned on when they were screaming insults at each other. This led to a very entertaining night, during the course of which, Cerra discovered that calling Wolffe a "gorgeous little useless slut" was a one-way ticket to pound town. She deployed this knowledge strategically.

Cerra was secretly terrified of Plo Koon. Wolffe could never figure out why she was so respectful and quiet whenever the Jedi was around, until she confessed that she was afraid General Plo would think she wasn't good enough for Wolffe. She never got over it, despite Wolffe's reassurances.

Thanks for the ask @moonlightwarriorqueen!

[fandom-friday]

Karrde's Fandom Friday Rec #2 (2/9/24)

My next rec this week has to go to @enigmaticexplorer for her 18+ fic I Yearn, and so I Fear. Alli has so masterfully created an entire family of OCs that I am SO VERY invested in while seamlessly weaving a compelling and suspenseful storyline and sprinkling in some of our favorite canon clone boys. I obviously adore her interactions with Wolffe SO MUCH, but also seeing how that dynamic differs from the one she has with the other clone characters (I WILL NOT SAY WHO, YOU MUST READ) is also SO COOL. The worldbuilding is IMMACULATE (DRAGONS?? IN MY STAR WARS??) and every new thing I learn about Kazi just makes me root for her more. This is such a wonderful story (and I'm not even caught up on it yet!), but I am INVESTED and cannot recommend it enough!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[wild-karrde]

Hello Friend Karrde,

I got caught up on some more reading! And thus some more Rec's from the marvelous Tumblr-verse.

@rain-on-kamino Has completed the Bet saga with the final chapter Afterglow. Trust me hun this fine piece of literature deserves to be savored slowly so as to appreciate it (like fine wine!). The highest peaks, the smoldering warmth, the MEN!!! Have the AED at the ready cause you're bound to go into an arrhythmia. Trust me you NEED TO READ THIS!

@pickleprickle Has given us the latest on the Tea Shop series (The Daimyo's Resolve) and it is slowly rolling to a boil.... I honestly cant decide if I enjoy the build up or the storm more! Can't wait to see what Boba does.... Or says.... I may have a problem....

@rexxdjarin latest Out of our element is amazing! Watching Zeeta and Wolffe go toe to toe... oh and the SPICE!!!!! I will fully own being a Wolffe girly and this is just Awesome! (chef's kiss)

@daimyosprincess has again gifted us with a one shot in the Ex Libris series Idyll.... Keep water on stand by cause HOLY MOLY!!!!! I feel the need to go to confession but I also regret NOTHING!

I finally caught up to part 9 of One step at a time and oh Chuck! These guys have been through the wringer and it just kills me, and Chuckles is so patient and good with the kids. I'm hoping to get to part 10 this week, but also what happened to Bolts?

I will humbly self rec a little self indulgent AU fic I did called Adult Swim... life guard Rex got me all sorts a feelings....

Thank you as always for putting this together every week. Much love and appreciation to all the amazing folks out here. Can't wait to see what's on the list!

WOOOOOOOOO THIS IS QUITE A LIST. It has it ALL. Sweet. SPICY. SO MUCH SPICE. You've really covered all of your bases here, and I love the ones of these that I have read, and am HYPED to check out the ones I haven't (including yours because HELL YEAH SELF-REC and also SAME with that Lifeguard AU from Emme!). Thanks so much for sending them all in!

(And part 10 of OSaaT helps clear some stuff up hehehe... not everything, but SOME things. We're slowly laying out the groundwork.)

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[deewithani]

Anyone have some fic recs where our sarcastic grumpy grump Wolffe is just cinnamon roll sweet underneath?

[moonstrider9904]

moonstrider9904's finished series

all of these works are 18+ and contain smut. Minors begone.

Moonlight

Crosshair x Fem!OC • AU

Moonwalker, Part I: The Batch

Hunter x Fem!OC, Crosshair x Fem!OC, Tech x Fem!OC • Canon timeline

Noctilucent

Hunter x Fem!OC • AU

Lake Everless

Hunter x Fem!OC • Mini series • cottagecore AU

Toxic

Hunter x Fem!Reader • Mini series

The Hunt

Wolffe x Fem!OC • AU

2022 Kinktober!

Various pairings

Sweetness of your Arms

Rex x Fem!Reader • Mini series • AU

>>Return to masterlist

[reader6898]

Talia x Wolffe on Kamino

*Talia sees the babies and clone cadets*

Talia: Oh maker 😍

*Wolffe, who was talking with other commanders, now sees Talia collecting cadets and baby clones*

Wolffe: Mesh'la, what are you doing?

*Talia struggling to hold all of them in her arms*

Talia: adopting them! ❤️

*Wolffe sighs*

Wolffe: please, Cyare, put them down

*clone cadet being so confused*

Cadet: help

*Wolffe takes the cadet and sets him to the side*

Wolffe: Talia, you can't adopt them

Talia: I can do what I want!

*wolffe sighs again as Talia picks up another baby clone and takes a couple of cadets with her*

Wolffe, muttering to himself: why do I love this woman?

Tagging: @anxiouspineapple99 @techs-stitches @sev-on-kamino @the-rain-on-kamino @the-bad-batch-baroness @cloneloverrrrr @deejadabbles @wizardofrozz @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @cw80831 @eternal-transcience @trixie2023 @sunshinesdaydream @starrylothcat @rexxdjarin @moonlightwarriorqueen

[clonesimpextra]

A Shattered Peace: Chapter 13

Scattered Stardust

[previous][next]

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x FemJedi!OC Word Count: 5.6K Chapter Rating: T Chapter Summary: After Abregado, Wolffe faces more issues back home on Kamino. Also available on AO3

A long time ago, in a place Wolffe once called ‘home,’ he wasn’t called ‘Wolffe’ at all.

Everywhere he went, regardless of who he was around, he was ‘CC-3636’. Nothing more. Nothing less. One of many, created to succeed at a singular goal.

Or die trying.

The day Wolffe earned his name was, he thought now as he stood in one of the Tipoca City landing bays, the day things started to shift in his mind. Maybe he was more than a number. Maybe he could be more, just a bit more, than the Kaminoans told him to be.

He could follow orders, he’d decided, but in his own way.

He could care for his brothers, he’d told himself, more than the war they were created for.

He could.

He would.

He did.

Now, as he watched brothers walking around him, none of them wearing 104th maroon, Wolffe almost wished he could give his name back.

He didn’t deserve it. Had stopped earning it. Wanted to go back to being a number because numbers didn’t have to feel … this … this emptiness in his stomach hollowed out by a pain so deep he almost couldn’t register it anymore.

How had this happened? How had he let this happen?

So many men gone. Just gone. Either blown up by the Malevolence or picked off, one-by-one, in the aftermath.

Like he should have been. Like he almost was.

He could still feel a deep ache in his lungs and his head from those moments with too little oxygen. Every rise of his chest was a reminder of what happened … how long ago was it now? He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been in that escape pod, waiting for a death General Plo wouldn’t allow him to accept. 

Abregado … Kamino.

Once upon a time he would have been able to list off the distance between the two, the exact time it would take for a mid-size ship to travel from the desolation of one to the relative sanctuary of the other. But, that ache. It was more than just physical.

“Wolffe?” 

Someone spoke behind him and it took Wolffe a second longer than normal to realize it was Sinker. He turned around to face his sergeant and was relieved to see the familiar maroon still on his armor. A reminder that even though he failed, at least he didn’t have to live with it on his own. He pulled at the cuff of his officer’s uniform and nodded for Sinker to continue.

“Jedi General Shaak Ti wants to see us, sir.”

Wolffe nodded again, tugging at his other cuff. This damn uniform didn’t fit right. It felt odd on his skin. Too loose, too thin, too soft. Too much like the clothes he used to wear on Kamino before he’d been given his armor. 

His armor … just another thing he’d lost.

“Sir?”

Wolffe nodded a third time without looking up. It was Boost who’d spoken just then.

Sinker and Boost. All that remained of the 104th.

And Comet. Comet was still alive. The first thing Wolffe had done when they’d reached the Resolute was ask about the 414th. Rex had assured him, before he’d left with Skywalker, Ahsoka, and General Plo, that Amara and her men were on their way back to Coruscant. Were probably already there by now. 

So Comet was with Amara, there wasn’t anywhere in the galaxy he’d be safer. And yet, a small part of Wolffe wished he was here. Wished he could have his eyes on all three of his remaining men just to make sure they didn’t disappear into stardust, too. 

And Amara …

Wolffe straightened up, finally looking from Sinker to Boost, from dark visor to dark visor. They could hide behind those, lucky bastards. Wolffe didn’t have that luxury, and he needed to remember that. If he wasn’t careful, every emotion he was determined not to feel would find its way across his face. 

He cleared his throat, narrowed his eyes, set his mouth in a thin line, and nodded a fourth time.

He could do this.

He would do this.

The ache in him lessened, just a bit.

“Let’s go see the general.”

*****

Wolffe knew Shaak Ti primarily by reputation. She was stationed on Kamino after he’d already left, and though she sometimes made appearances in General Plo’s holo calls with the Council, she and Wolffe never had much reason to interact with one another. 

But the shinies liked to share stories about the wise Togruta Jedi who observed their training. The beautiful woman who gave them advice and who wasn’t afraid to question the Kaminoans and trainers on their behalf. Wolffe had always rolled his eyes at this kind of talk, chalking the infatuation and admiration up to Shaak Ti being the first non-Kaminoan woman not on a data pad many of the boys had ever laid eyes on. 

Most of those same boys were dead now.

Wolffe blinked the thought away and pressed the panel next to the general’s office door. 

“Commander Wolffe, Sergeant Sinker, and Trooper Boost,”  a soft voice floated towards them from inside, “Please, come in.”

The office had the same too-white walls that decorated all of Tipoca City, making the entire area feel more like a med-bay than a place to live. But this room was different than the others Wolffe had seen across Kamino. There was no desk in here, not even a single chair. Instead, plush cushions lined one of the walls. Wolffe recognized them as similar to the ones that used to sit in Amara’s office on the Triumphant. Meditation cushions, then, in place of proper seats. Wolffe almost snorted at how very Jedi is all was. Typical.

But he couldn’t deny that the open space and the slight color added by the cushions made the room feel more welcoming than the rest of this place. Warmer, maybe. And somehow calming.

Or was that just the Jedi influence? His eyes flashed to the woman standing in the middle of the room. Shaak Ti was already looking at him, a gentle smile on her face. She looked far too peaceful, Wolffe thought, given everything they were here to talk about.

Then again, none of it had happened to her.

Her smile remained, but the general tilted her head to the side, just a bit. As if she knew what he was thinking. 

Jedi, Wolffe thought to himself again before building back up the mental wall that should have already been there to begin with. He needed to get a grip. Just because he’d failed everyone back in the Abregado system didn’t give him an excuse to lose his shit now. He was better than that. He had to be better than that. 

So he kept his gaze trained on the Jedi before him and nodded for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “General. You wanted to speak with us?”

“Yes,” Shaak Ti said slowly, eyes flicking between him and his brothers. “You three have been through a great ordeal, I believe. I am sorry for the loss it has caused you.”

Her words were genuine, heavy with the gravity of the situation. Wolffe wasn’t surprised. Most of the Jedi he’d encountered over the last several months were the same. But her sorrow still felt small to him. How could “sorry” cover the breadth of thousands of lives lost?

How could anything?

Wolffe wanted to ask her this, wanted to know if maybe the Jedi knew something he didn’t. If she could make sense of this for him so he could nod his head yet again, say “Ah, I understand,” and actually fucking mean it.

Instead, he swallowed past his questions and said what was expected of him. “They were good men. Committed to the safety of the Republic.” But … he was still Wolffe, not just CC-3636. No matter how much he wished he could go back; he never would. “I hope their deaths won’t be for nothing.”

The general’s smile fell, just a bit. “As do I, Commander.” She took a step closer to them, hands folding behind her back. “That has something to do with why I called you here. To discuss the future of the your battalion.”

“The … future, General?” Sinker asked before Wolffe could get a word out. The sergeant’s voice was masked by his helmet’s vocoder, but the inflection was clear all the same. What the hell was the general talking about?

Shaak Ti sighed and motioned between Sinker and Boost. “Please, take your helmets off. I like to see the faces of the people I’m talking to.” 

Any other time, Wolffe knew Boost would have made a clone joke. Just look at Wolffe, then General, he’d have said. We all have the same face, even if his isn’t quite as handsome as mine. 

Instead, the only sound in the room was the whoosh of air as the two helmets released their hold, the soft thump of the domes pushed up under plastoid-covered arms. Wolffe looked at his brothers, meeting their gazes long enough to see his confusion echoed in their eyes. He turned back to the general and waited.

“Counting the three of you here, and Clone Trooper Comet, who I have been told is still helping the 414th, only four members of the 104th remain,” Shaak Ti said gently but matter-of-factly. “This is a concern. For many reasons.”

Wolffe grit his teeth, forcing the neutral face Mar-Va had trained all his command clones to adopt to remain in place. The only concern Wolffe cared about was that thousands of men hadn’t needed to die. Shouldn’t have died. They’d flown right into a trap that the Republic in all its glory and infinite wisdom hadn’t seen coming. 

But just because that was the only concern he cared about right now didn’t mean it was the only concern, period. What kind of commander would he be if he couldn’t see the forest for the trees?

The GAR relied on its battalions. As good as the remaining four of the 104th might be, they couldn’t tackle even a portion of what their larger group had been capable of. And this wasn’t like Tibrin. They didn’t just need a hundred more men to make up for losses. They needed thousands.

The past several hours, Wolffe had been living moment-to-moment. Had been so focused on survival and the safety of General Plo and his remaining brothers that he hadn’t really stopped to think about what their need would mean. 

“You want to disband the 104th.” It wasn’t a question because Wolffe wasn’t asking. It was the logical move, from a military standpoint. The commander in him, the good soldier who followed whatever orders were thrown his way, accepted this. 

The Wolffe in him wasn’t so docile.

So, before Shaak Ti could answer, Wolffe shook his head, the ache that had settled inside him suddenly far away. “That would be a mistake, General.”

He could feel Sinker’s and Boost’s eyes on him. Interrupting a general wasn’t something he was known for. But this couldn’t wait. There was an urgency that replaced the ache in Wolffe’s chest that he was becoming all too familiar with. 

He didn’t have much in this life that he could call his own. Just his name, his brothers, and his battalion. He lost brothers every day, but he’d be damned if he lost his battalion, too. 

Maybe the general could sense this in him. Maybe the walls around his mind had slipped just enough for her to get a peek into his desperation. Or maybe it was just clear in his eyes and his voice. Whatever it was brought Shaak Ti to a pause. She considered him for a moment before crossing her arms over her chest, a more relaxed position than before. An equal, maybe, instead of a revered figure.

She inclined her head, forehead creased in what Wolffe hoped was curiosity and not annoyance. “Explain.”

Wolffe didn’t need to be told twice.

“What would you do with us, if the 104th was disband?” It was a rhetorical question, really. He already knew the answer, but he wanted Shaak Ti to hear it out loud. “Put us with another battalion?”

The general nodded. “Likely one you’ve worked closely with before. The 212th, 501st. Maybe Master Unduli’s 41st.”

“And waste General Plo’s leadership?” Wolffe shook his head and began to pace the room, Shaak Ti’s eyes following him. “That’s not what you need.”

“His leadership would not be wasted. Simply re-allocated from time to time.”

“Temporary leadership of already-formed battalions? Constantly jumping from one to another?” Wolffe barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “That’s essentially wasting his talents. Just like lumping us in with another battalion would be wasting ours.”

He paused to glance at Sinker and Boost, who were all but fidgeting in their armor. Wolffe didn’t speak like this to Jedi. Well, at least not to Jedi who weren’t Amara Kora. But if Amara were here right now, she’d be doing the same thing. He knew she would. Wolffe cleared his throat and continued.

“We’re several months into this war now. Which is several months more than any of us thought it would last. Am I wrong, General?”

Shaak Ti pursed her lips, but Wolffe swore he saw the corner of them twitch up in the moment before. “I would say your assessment is essentially accurate, Commander.”

Jedi, Wolffe thought for the third time as he found himself fighting back a smile of his own. He hadn’t won this yet.

“You don’t need one less battalion when you’re already sending every single one you have on mission after mission after mission. With no end in sight as of now. It’s all hands on deck, sir. Even if that means rebuilding one of them from the ground up.” He stopped next to his brothers and placed his hands behind his back. The perfect military rest for the perfect commander that the GAR couldn’t afford to lose. At least, that was the idea. “The 104th is one of the Republic’s best. Sinker, Boost, Comet, and I will make it that way again. I give you my word, General.”

The Jedi peered at the three of them for another moment, and Wolffe resisted the urge to pull once again at his cuffs. This would have been so much easier if he’d had his armor.

Finally, Shaak Ti uncrossed her arms and gave them a small smile. “You make a compelling argument, Commander. Master Plo would have been proud to hear it.” She cocked her head, smile widening just a bit. “Though I imagine if he were here just now, he would have been the one making it, not you.”

Wolffe gave a quick, sharp nod, not wanting to get his hopes up. “He’s a good teacher, sir.”

“Hmm, he is at that.” Shaak Ti turned her hands over, palms up as if conceding to him. “You have convinced me, Commander Wolffe. The 104th will stay. And I will see what I can do about having Comet sent here. To help with the rebuilding.”

Sinker and Boost shifted next to him and something in Wolffe loosened ever so slightly. He could have this. He might have lost at Abregado. But he hadn’t lost here. At least not yet.

The general motioned them to the door and they stepped out into the hallway. Sinker and Boost turned to leave, but Shaak Ti reached for Wolffe’s arm, holding him back.

“I should warn you,” she said in a voice so low Wolffe had to strain to hear it. “I am not the only one who makes these decisions. I will support you as much as I can, but Lama Su and the … trainers. They will be watching you closely.” She let go of his arm and looked directly into his eyes, a sternness in her gaze that reminded him for a moment of Amara. “Do not let go of your fire just yet, Commander.”

Wolffe watched her turn in the opposite direction of his brothers, an uncertainty settling in the pit of his stomach. He was standing in the halls of the only home he’d ever known, but he felt like he’d just stepped onto a battlefield.

And something was telling him that the odds were already stacked against him.

*****

Growing up on Tipoca City, Wolffe never had a room as private as the one he was standing in right now. The wide, circular space with four beds built into the walls was at odds with Wolffe’s memory of the dozens of pods that populated the bunk rooms he’d slept in up until last year. Had these rooms always been available? Empty and waiting for visitors who didn’t require the strict and invasive regime of the clones?

Wolffe sat on the bed closest to the door and tried not to be bitter about it. He sank half an inch into the mattress and scowled at the softness. The Kaminoans had these types of beds hidden away on this side of the facility this whole time?

So much for not being bitter.

“I can’t believe they were going to disband us, just like that,” Boost said as he walked out of the fresher, running a towel across his head. “After everything’s we’ve done. Hells, after what we just went through.”

“They’re having to replace more and more clones these days,” Sinker yawned as he sat down on his own bed. Wolffe could hear the bitterness in his voice, too. “Probably didn’t sound too appealing having to allocate so many just to one battalion.”

“Well that’s literally what they made us for,” Boost scoffed, tossing his towel aside. “They should have been prepared for the possibility.”

Wolffe sighed and leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. He didn’t have it in him to discuss this again. Not after what Shaak Ti had said to him before they’d parted. The coming days on Tipoca City were not shaping up to be the restful ones he’d been promised when he, Sinker, and Boost were dropped off. The ache in his chest and head was starting to return and he desperately, desperately needed to sleep.

But they needed that approval from Lama Su and the trainers. Wolffe wasn’t too worried about the former. He hadn’t spent much time around Kamino’s prime minister, but he did know that Lama Su wasn’t usually one to get his hands dirty. He’d approve the continuation of the 104th if only because it meant he didn’t have to bother with the nuisances of explaining to the Republic why his people couldn’t help rebuild one of the GAR’s best battalions.

The trainers, though … they were another story.

When Wolffe was a cadet, the clones were trained by Mandalorian warriors hand-picked by Jango Fett himself. But as time wore on, those Mandalorians slowly began to leave Kamino, either by choice or by force. Mar-Va fell into the latter group, something Wolffe didn’t like to think about much.

These days, though, the Kaminoans employed bounty hunters to help train the clones. Wolffe had never met them, but he’d heard enough stories from the shinies to know they couldn’t necessarily be trusted. Not like the Mandalorians and not at all like Mar-Va. There was no telling whose best interest these bounty hunters, former or not, had in mind. But if they didn’t approve of Wolffe’s rebuilding efforts, if they gave Lama Su even the smallest reason to think disbanding the 104th would be easier than letting it continue … 

There were worse things that could happen to the four remaining members of the 104th than being placed with a new battalion.

Wolffe pushed the thought away and shifted on the bed, scowling again at the unfamiliar comfort. He’d worry about rebuilding tomorrow.

“Hey, uh, Wolffe?” Sinker’s voice cut through the too empty space between them.

“Yeah?” Wolffe looked across the room at his brother, who was staring down at the chest plate held between his hands. Sinker’s brows were creased, a pained expression on his face that Wolffe recognized all too well. He saw it every time he glanced in the mirror these days.

“If we’re starting over,” Sinker paused, tried again. “If we’re rebuilding the 104th, should we use a different color this time?”

Wolffe blinked, unsure what to say.

“Why would we do that?” Boost interrupted. When Wolffe looked at him, he was scowling at the floor. “Maroon’s ours. Everyone knows that.”

A loud crash from Sinker’s direction pulled Wolffe’s attention back to that part of the room. The chest plate his brother had been holding was tossed on the floor, far away from the bed.

“It was more than just ours, Boost.” Sinker rose, removing his armor piece by piece and letting it fall wherever it wanted instead of placing it in the careful pile all clones were committed to. “It was theirs, too.”

He didn’t need to say who ‘they’ were.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, weighed down by the absence of … everyone. The 104th had experienced loss before, but never, never on this scale. Wolffe had to remind himself that just because he was their leader, just because he was responsible for all of them, didn’t mean Sinker and Boost weren’t feeling the loss every bit as much as he was.

He wished there was something he could say to them that would make it better, easier. But there was never anything anyone could say to him. So he did the only thing he could. He pushed it back.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Wolffe rubbed at his forehead, more tired than he had been since they’d returned from Tibrin. “We have a lot to do before we even start talking about paint anyway. Get some rest.” He waited until they looked at him. “Both of you.”

Boost lay back on his bed and turned toward the wall. Sinker gave a short nod before walking to the fresher, slamming his hand on the door panel a little too harshly.

Wolffe forced himself onto his back, tugging at the collar of the fresh bodysuit he’d picked up earlier when he’d received a new set of armor. Maybe it wasn’t the clothes that made him so antsy, so uncomfortable. Maybe this was just how he was now. After everything.

He wondered what Amara would think of him, the next time they saw each other.

With that thought, his mind suddenly filled with her.

Was she really safe back on Coruscant? Had she listened to his recording? Did she know yet, what happened to them? Was she worried?

Wolffe closed his eyes and tried to remember what she looked like the last time he’d seen her. They’d been on the GAR compound, just down the hall from her office. Her hair had been in her usual braids, a little messy. Probably because she’d kept nervously tugging at them, even when he knew she didn’t realize she was doing it. 

There had been a few more freckles across her nose and cheeks than he was used to, likely caused by all the time under the Tibrin sun. He’d wished he could touch them, trace them with his thumb so he could commit them to memory. Look for new ones next time.

She’d worn a maroon tunic instead of the tan one she’d always worn as their commander. A small part of him had wondered if she’d chosen the color for them. To remember them, honor them, keep a part of them close even when they were far apart. Wolffe had thought that his colors looked so good on her, better than they ever did on him, and it was part of the reason he’d sent that recording with Comet.

But they weren’t his colors anymore, were they?

Sinker was right. 

Something wet trickled down Wolffe’s cheek and he turned his back to the room, eyes still closed.

Maroon didn’t belong to them anymore. 

It belonged to the stardust scattered forever across the Abregado system.

*****

“Commander Wolffe!”

He shot up from the bed, on his feet and heading for the door before the echo of his name even quieted. He didn’t know what trouble there could possibly be on Tipoca City at such a late hour, but his training took over regardless. A hand to the door panel and he stepped out of the circular room, glancing frantically up and down the too bright hallway for the origin of the shout.

He heard footsteps, the sound of dozens of soldiers marching, to his left and hurried that way. What his brothers were doing marching down these halls, he had no idea, but he went anyway, intent on helping wherever he could.

As he neared the end of the hall, the marching grew louder, mixing now with more shouts in his brothers’ voices.

“Watch your left!”

“Push through, NOW!”

Were they training? At this time? Had there been a glit—

This isn’t real.

Wolffe stopped. Closed his eyes.

You’ve had this dream before.

“Commander! On your right!” 

He lifted his right hand and shot without turning his head, without even opening his eyes, felling a battle droid instantly.

He wasn’t on Tipoca City anymore, but he still knew this place. Not the name of it, no. Nothing as simple as that.

When he blinked his eyes open, he knew the hazy edges of smoke. When he sucked in a breath, he knew the bitter smell of charged plasma. When he took a step, he knew the thick rivers of blood under his boots that squelched like mud. 

He knew the whisper in the air coming from a direction he couldn’t lock down.

Good soldiers follow orders.

Wolffe closed his eyes again, willing the senses away.

She was here, remember? She pulled you out.

And suddenly, he did remember.

Amara, standing in snow. No, not snow. Ash. Holding his hand, saying his name, looking at him so gently.

Telling him to wake up.

He should wake up. Should end this nightmare before it dug any deeper into his mind. But …

If she’d been there then, couldn’t she be here now? And if she could be here now, then Wolffe needed to wait. He would wait here, in this nightmare, for a moment with her. Even if it wasn’t real.

And it wasn’t real, right?

“Wolffe?”

He opened his eyes and saw the ash falling like snow, could feel it on his covered palm, turned up and lifted out and … 

And you shouldn’t be able to feel the way ash crumbles on your skin, paper-light and fragile and course, in a dream, should you? He looked up at the grey sky, squinting at the barely-there stars and forgetting what had made him open his eyes in the first place until he heard it again.

“Wolffe.”

A statement. Not a question.

His name. In her voice.

Wolffe turned, and she was there. Just like he’d wanted. Just like he’d known, somehow, she would be. And that, surely, made this a dream. He didn’t have the power to conjure Amara out of nowhere. Wasn’t sure anyone did, really. 

That’s not how the Force works, she’d say to him if this person standing before him was really her.

He looked down into her brown eyes, so dark with grief they were almost black. And she was looking back at him like she had when he was in the Resolute’s medbay. Mouth pursed, eyebrows creased, like she could lecture his pain out of him.

He knew that look as well as he knew his own reflection. Had committed it to memory, and clones had near-perfect memories. He would have no issue recreating this visage of her in his dreams.

But maybe …

Maybe there was something slightly off about the way she was standing. Something off about the way her two braids were tied back behind her head, not hanging down her chest like they almost always were. 

Every time Amara graced his thoughts, her hair was the same. And maybe it was silly and superficial and ridiculous, but Wolffe didn’t know her any other way.

“Your braids,” he said out loud, hoping that would explain something.

The crease in her brows deepened and she reached up to pat the braided buns at the top of her neck. “They were getting in the way …”

“It’s nice,” he added quickly, because what else is there to say in this place that shouldn’t be real but … is? Somehow.

Amara lowered her hand, still peering at him under those creased brows, and reached for his. “Wolffe,” she said again, pleading this time but he didn’t know for what, “what happened?”

She knew. Wolffe could tell from her eyes that she knew about the Malevolence and the deaths and the pain. She just wanted to hear it from him. A rundown, a debriefing like they always used to do after their missions.

And Wolffe wanted to tell her. Wanted to open his mouth and explain to her everything he couldn’t explain to himself. She deserved to know and he was tired of carrying it all on his own.

But he could feel the callouses on her palms, rubbed into the skin from years working with her lightsabers. He could smell the flowers that followed her wherever she went, overpowering the battle scents from earlier. 

He could feel her, here in this dream that maybe wasn’t a dream. 

And suddenly it wasn’t enough. Suddenly, an overwhelming want coursed through his body and he brought her hand up to his chest, pressed against the bodysuit he’d carried over into this place.

Her eyes widened, but she stepped closer all the same, placed her other hand on his chest, too.

“Wolffe,” she whispered.

And he responded as if was speaking into that holo recording. The one he’d made when he was so sure of what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. An honesty that wasn’t always easy for him.

Wolffe leaned his forehead against Amara’s and said, with everything in him, “I wish you were here.”

*****

When Wolffe opened his eyes again, he was staring up at the gray ceiling above his bed. He blinked a few times, accepting that he was awake now, away from his dream, away from Amara. Accepting that it would all slip away into the recesses of his mind, maybe pulled back again the next time he had this nightmare.

Because there would be a next time. There always was.

But as his body became more awake, more alert, Wolffe could still remember the dream. Could still feel Amara’s hand in his, pressed against his chest. He could see the ash that looked like snow falling around them. He could see her hair in the braided buns and hear his name pulled from her lips.

He waited a moment, still certain everything would soon fade.

By the time he got out of the fresher, the water dripping down his neck from his hair reassuring him that he was, in fact, awake, every detail remained crystal clear in his mind.

Maybe it wasn’t a dream.

Wolffe shook the thought away, moving to kit up in his new armor. He hadn’t left his bed, this room, Tipoca City. That was impossible.

He clasped his right vambrace on and paused. It was impossible, wasn’t it?

The question reverberated through his head all the way to the cafeteria. Sinker and Boost had said they’d meet him there when he took his turn in the fresher. Maybe he could ask them what they remembered about Amara’s or Plo’s various ramblings on the Force. Though, he was pretty sure neither of them had any firmer grasp on the particulars than he did. Especially not Boost.

It was, quite literally, magic to them. No matter what the Jedi said.

He was just down the hall from the cafeteria when a voice called out ahead of him.

“Commander Wolffe, a moment?”

He paused, nodding at the Togruta Jedi as she drew closer. “Yes, General?”

Surely she wasn’t here to tell him she’d changed her mind about the 104th. Jedi weren’t that callous. At least, not in his experience.

“I will not keep you long.” She glanced at the cafeteria doors as a group of clones walked out, smiling at them when they passed. “I have just come from a meeting with the Jedi Council and thought you might like to know. Clone Trooper Comet will leave Coruscant shortly. He should be on Kamino within the next day or two.”

What remained of the 104th, the old 104th, would be together again soon, then. Wolffe wondered how much Comet knew, not relishing the idea of having to tell him anything about the Malevolence himself.

“Thank you, Sir,” he said, pushing the thought away for now. “I appreciate your support.”

“You’ll soon have more than just my support, Commander.” Shaak Ti leaned in to whisper her next words, as if revealing a secret. “Your previous co-commander, General Kora, will accompany Comet here. I understand she plans to stay for a while. To assess the rebuilding efforts in General Plo’s absence.”

Wolffe could only stare as she pulled away and patted him on the arm. “I will let you know they’ve arrive. Enjoy your breakfast.”

She continued down the hall, leaving Wolffe standing perfectly still and earning annoyed nudges and grumbles from brothers entering and leaving the cafeteria. None of it registered, though. All he could hear was an echo of his own voice from the dream that was seeming less and less like a dream.

“I wish you were here,” he’d said to Amara.

Soon she would be, as if she’d heard him from across the galaxy.

Maybe, Wolffe thought, as he finally shook himself free of his stupor long enough to get through the cafeteria doors. 

Maybe she actually had.

[techs-cyarika]

Worth It

Wolffe X Cas (fem Jedi! OC) thank you to @ghoulishhone for giving the idea for this I was forced awake at 5 am because my brain needed me to get it out

Cas and Wolffe take some time to reflect after a particularly difficult battle

Warnings: mentions of death, war

words: <1k

Casadera bonelessly dropped her aching body onto the blue grasses of the cliff and faced out into the blinking night. One would think they would get used to the wonders of space after years of traveling from planet to planet, but every time she thought she’d seen it all that endless wonder would show her something new. 

The planet Cas and the 104th had found themselves stationed on had its own galactic show. At night, all of the system’s planets were visible, and in between stars and planets, colors danced. Flashes and flowing streams of greens, blues, and oranges. Cas was sure the phenomena had a name, maybe a sort of solar flare, but she preferred locals’ term for it the “dancing lights”. 

Cas was caught in thought, going back through the day's hard-won battle in her head when she felt the approach of a familiar presence through the force. 

Commander Wolffe, helmet off tucked in the crook of his elbow, walked to the spot next to Cas. He dropped his gaze down to her briefly, silently asking for permission, and Cas gave him a small smile and patted the soft grass next to her. Wolffe put his helmet down and sat, careful not to disturb the Jedi’s robes that flowed around her. 

The two commanders had grown close the past few years they’d spent together, too close the Jedi council had warned her. She was too close with the clone troopers she commanded, too attached. It was dangerous they had warned her, the dark side lurked waiting to lure those over who could not let go. But Cas knew sacrifice and letting go; she sacrificed her own peace, her own men, had left her own master…

No, she wouldn’t go there. 

She brought her thoughts back to the present: this cliff and its blue grass, the dancing lights, and the stoic clone commander next to her. When she turned back to him He was already looking at her, his eyes flashing with the lights, his cybernetic almost a perfect mirror. He was scanning her over, looking for any wounds that needed tending. The battle had been over for hours, but the time since had been spent dispensing of any rogue battle droids and caring for the wounded soldiers, both clones and the local planetary forces. Wolffe knew the Jedi would leave her own needs to be dealt with last, and had likely not taken more than a cursory glance over herself to be sure her limbs were all still intact. Wolffe was pleased to find that she was all in one piece, he had been by her side most of the fight to be sure of it, but there was a tear on one of her dirt-stained sleeves, singed on the edges, blaster fire. Cas noticed it at the same time he did.

“Just a graze, I’ll live.” She offered a small smile, and covered her arm with her other hand, but the smile didn’t last. Cas turned her gaze back to the stars.

“Do you-” She began but stopped, worrying her bottom lip as she considered her words. He waited for her to find them.

“Do you think it’s worth it? I mean, fighting this war is it worth it? Every day we send in troops to fight battles all across the galaxy and win or lose the next day there’s another battle elsewhere. It just seems… endless.”

Wolffe hadn’t considered it. He was bred for this singular purpose, to fight this war, and he would probably die for it. But he looked at the Jedi, his Jedi, Cas. He watched the lights dancing in her jewel green eyes and the silver tears lining her eyes and then he thought about all the brothers he had lost. Not just that day, but every day since he’d been deployed off Kamino. 

“I have to hope it’s all been for something. I don’t know if it’s worth it if it’ll mean anything in the end, but it meant something to the people we’ve helped.” Cas thought about her Master, then Captain Keeli, and then the people of Ryloth and how they rejoiced when they won their home back. How the people of this planet had cheered and hugged and laughed despite the destruction around them. The tears fell down her cheek, but neither said anything else as the Jedi took her commander’s hand and squeezed tight.

[foreverdaydreaming1]

You came? You called.

Just a drabble that popped into my head while I was scrolling TikTok. Technically it's based on a Wolffe x Jedi!OC fic I'm writing, but other than being in 3rd person you wouldn't notice. There's probably going to be more written in Wolffe's POV after my eye exam if anyone's interested.

Warnings: none really. It's got angst because I'm listening to Hozier.

The pain was blinding.

Never-ending.

Hot like fire.

She wanted to scream.

She couldn’t force the sound out of her throat.

So, she screamed into the Force.

She screamed, asking for release. Respite. For the pain to fade.

She cried, asking for help. For comfort.

Finally, she cried for him. Begged the Force to bring him to her. Pleaded until it was the only thought.

Then she admitted everything. How she missed him. Missed the comfort his presence brought her. Missed his smile. Missed knowing he was always on her left side. Missed the eye rolls. The connection.

Miss him. Repeated constantly, the only distraction she had. Come here.

Cold washed over her. Respite. Relief. Wolffe.

Murmurs. Words. Someone was talking to her. What were they saying? Didn’t matter. He was here. Wolffe was here. Everything would be ok.

The liquid fire in her blood cooled. Like it too was just waiting for him to arrive.

Peace settled. She relaxed. The calm of sleep took her mind.

~

She cracked her eyes open slowly, mindful of the bright lights she could see even through her eyelids. It was quiet in the med bay. There was weight on her left side. Slowly she tipped her head. He was there.

Wolffe was working on paperwork. Holding the datapad with one hand while the other arm was his pillow as he leaned against her. He was faced away from her. His hair was getting long, starting to curl. She started to lift her arm to twirl a finger around the longest. His head turned to her at the movement, and she was lost in amber.

He was talking. She could see his lips moving, but she couldn't focus. Couldn’t understand the words he was saying, so caught up in the repeating thought her in head.

“You came,” it was barely a whisper. Her throat was dry and constricted.

He stopped, “You called. Of course, I came.”

His head shook as he scoffed, as if the thought that he wouldn’t come was ridiculous. Her hand lifted again, this time it succeeded in wrapping a curl around her finger.

“I didn’t think you would.”

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

Pieces - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Pairing: Commander Wolffe/OC Issa Straun

Warnings: Swearing, drinking.

Word Count - 9.2k

A/N: ALRIGHT NERDS! I'M BACK HAHAHAHA.

After what feels like the world's longest hiatus, my personal life is back on track and this fic is ticking over once again. To apologise for my absence may I present a 9k chapter that I spent far too long agonising over. Biggest of thank yous to @wild-karrde - Karrde my friend, you are the reason this fic continues to live, thank you for all your help, advice, and for battling through my lack of commas <3, one day I will learn 😁.

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Steam clouded Issa’s lenses as she wrapped her thin hands around the mug of tea before her, lifting the red liquid to her lips. The Jedi took a sip and gave a content sigh as the warm drink did its work of fighting off the cool from the ship’s air supply. 

It was her first moment of peace in little over a month she realised. The fighting on Antar 4 had been relentless, and the only reason for the battalion’s sudden respite was the fact that their initial campaign had been a success. They’d managed to push the Separatists out of the main city, and established a secure perimeter to keep them out, which gave Antar 4’s elected government the chance to begin their defence efforts against the local terrorists. There were a few moments where things had been tight and times when casualties had been higher than anticipated, but overall, their success had been noted by the Jedi Council and higher ups in the GAR.

That recognition is what led them to this point, being aboard the Triumphant and heading back to Coruscant. It seemed now that the 104th had proven themselves, Issa, her master and the battalion were being reassigned to a more pressing fight in the war. 

This morning they’d welcomed the 182nd Legion and their general, Master Kolar. They spent a few hours bringing them up to speed on their surroundings before beginning the process of packing up and shipping out. It’d been a long day, but the troops were looking forward to sleeping in their own bunks again on the Venator. 

As was she.

Fighting on the frontlines of a war was something Issa had truly had to experience in order to gain some semblance of understanding of what it would be like. Words and stories didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. It’d been grinding, dirty, and exhausting to the bone. The fear and uncertainty she felt each time she got a chance to close her eyes pushed rest and ease far from her mind. 

It had been an odd feeling, not being able to slow her mind for such an extended period of time. Everything had felt thrown together and reactive, no matter how long they’d spent hunched over a holotable, strategising into the early hours of the morning. The Pantoran also didn't remember a time when she’d been among other people’s company for so long, having spent years in the calm and steady presence of only Master Plo on their extended research missions. She’d always found solace on her own, in her own safe spaces where she could unwind. But out there, she’d had no escape, especially with every sense being pushed to the extremes. It’d been overwhelming to say the least.

But, in spite of it all, she and a majority of their men survived.

We’re still here.

Since they’d returned to the Triumphant, Plo had given her the green light to retreat to her quarters to take stock of herself and what they’d all been through together the past month, while still fulfilling her new command duties but from a distance. It’d been a couple of days since she’d seen anyone really, but it had helped, so she was thankful for her Master’s understanding as always.

Having gotten used to sleeping for short bursts while on the frontlines, Issa was struggling to readjust back to a normal sleeping pattern. She’d spent a good hour that night tossing and turning in her bunk before giving up and hunkering down in the mess hall with a cup of tea and a few datapads. 

Might as well use the time to get some new scenery and do some work.

As another smooth sip of tea warmed her throat, it hit Issa that it’d been nearly a year since the last time she’d had this particular blend, and for a moment she was transported back in time. She was back in Obi-Wan’s quarters at the temple with him and one of her closest friends, Anakin. The Jedi Master was a connoisseur of teas from around the galaxy, always trying to stop off and pick up different recipes while away on missions. He’d been particularly excited about the one he’d finally managed to source from a small village on Karlinus. The three of them sat in his sparse room while the steam of freshly boiled water drifted through the small space, quietly chatting and joking amongst themselves. She remembered Anakin’s face behind his Master’s back as he grimaced at the drink’s sweet taste, sticking his tongue out dramatically in a way he knew would have Issa chuckling. He'd always been one who sought out the more bitter flavours in life, like the ten cups of caf he drank each day. 

With a knowing smile as he turned back around to the pair, Obi-Wan shook his head as he caught the way Anakin tried to hide his reaction from him. “I feel as though your palate might be a lost cause, my Padawan.”

The Pantoran smiled, shaking her head in amusement at the memory of Anakin’s failed antics. Issa couldn’t believe that the young Jedi she’d spent half her life training alongside had recently been promoted to the rank of Knight, making history as one of the youngest in the Order aged just nineteen. She was truly proud of her friend. It seemed he was truly destined for greatness, and Issa could think of no one more deserving. I’ll have to congratulate Obi-Wan on finally being free of his Padawan too. 

As the feeling of nostalgia settled in warmly within her chest, Issa placed down her cup and grabbed her abandoned stylus so she could continue her notes on Antar 4. She’d been studying a battle plan when the door to the mess swished open. Issa noticed someone paused in the doorway for a moment before entering the room with a huff. “What are you doing up?” the new entrant questioned.

“Hello to you too, Wolffe,” Issa replied, not lifting her eyes from the work before her. “I’m going over those strategies we drew up with Book and Master Plo. I want to make sure I know them inside and out for the briefing on Coruscant.”

“Well you’re not going to be of any use to us half dead on your feet. You should get some sleep.”

“Could say the same to you, Commander. What are you doing up?”

Wolffe just grunted at her before making his way over to the caf machine and pouring himself a strong cup. Still maintaining his silence, he leaned back against the counter and stared down into the dark liquid before him. Issa chanced a moment to look her commander over. He was clad in his black body glove he usually wore under his armour, and his eyes were heavy with the beginnings of dark circles blooming beneath them. Her eyes traced up to his hair, which was slightly mussed, and his frown was even more downturned than usual, which was really saying something. 

Wolffe had something on his mind, that much was obvious. Though it was also kyber clear that he didn’t come in here to talk. In fact, he was surprised to have seen her, which meant he’d likely been looking for some solitude.

Do I check on him anyway? Issa asked herself. She knew she would likely be met with a biting response demanding she mind her own business, but as her eyes flitted over to Wolffe once more, his sombre expression gave her the final push of concern she needed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered quietly, averting her eyes so that they remained firmly on the datapads before her so as to not put him off with any unwanted attention. Issa and Wolffe weren’t exactly close. The clone commander was rather rough around the edges, and they were still finding their feet with whatever working relationship they were forging, which added a nice layer of uncertainty to many interactions between them. 

“No,” Wolffe grumbled. Though he didn’t say anything else, which was more positive than Issa was expecting. 

“Okay.” 

Maker, this is awkward.

With a small nod, Issa pushed her frames higher up her nose and returned to her work while Wolffe began sipping at his hot caf. A good few minutes went by, and they settled into a rocky silence while Issa lost herself in strategies and plans. She became so engrossed in the data before her that when Wolffe spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“We lost some good men in that last battle.” Wolffe’s voice wasn’t loud. In fact, it could probably be called a whisper, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like he’d shouted into the quiet room. 

Issa knew her eyes had widened in shock, confused and relieved that Wolffe was actually talking about what was bothering him. She peered up at him through her lenses and settled the datapads away from her, giving the commander her full attention. “We did. Wrexler, Vick, Kip, Dino and Zander were all great guys.”

Now it was Wolffe’s turn to look shocked. “You remember all their names?”

“Of course. Master Plo and I said we’d learn everyone’s names that first day we all met. We don’t say things we don’t mean. You’re people Wolffe, not droids. The lives we lose aren’t so easily swept away for us either you know.” Wolffe grunted again and fell silent, staring back into the mug in his hand as if it held the answers to whatever questions he was torturing himself with. 

Feeling brave and maybe stupid, Issa took a steadying breath before choosing her next words carefully. “Do you… blame yourself?”

Wolffe’s eyes shot up to meet hers, his amber irises burning with something she couldn’t pinpoint, making Issa swallow. Shit, okay too far. Feeling her face flush with embarrassment, she held her hands up in an apologetic manner. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.” Great, that’ll set us back nicely. Smooth Straun.

As Issa mentally kicked herself, she noticed that something in her reaction to his heated gaze had caused Wolffe’s frustration at her to cool. His glare softened, and he averted his eyes to stare at the wall to his side as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the galaxy while bouncing his leg ever so slightly. 

“Yes,” he eventually replied, biting the word out as if it went against everything in him to utter it. It took Issa a moment to realise he was responding to her question. So he does blame himself. Wolffe continued. “I’m their Commander, my choices lead to their deaths. I’m the person who's supposed to protect them.”

“That’s not your job alone, Wolffe. If that’s your logic, Plo and I are equally as to blame as you.”

“It’s different.”

“How so?” she asked. Her question wasn’t fuelled by impatience or frustration at Wolffe’s mindset but by genuine curiosity. Issa wanted to understand exactly the reason why he was putting this responsibility solely on his shoulders.

“Because you’re not one of us,” he snapped, eyes burning brightly once more. His harsh tone appeared to be an accident as a sliver of regret slipped onto his features while he flexed his jaw. 

Issa gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. You don’t have to explain yourself. I'm not offended.” Every soldier lost is another member of his family gone, another face identical to his that was taken too soon. “It’s personal for you, I understand.”

Wolffe scoffed and lifted a hand to rub at his jawline, his fingers scraping across the rough, growing stubble there. “I don’t need a lecture on the losses of war, just so you know.”

Issa’s smile grew. “I wasn’t planning on one. I was just going to say that should you ever want to share that burden, Master Plo and I are carrying it as well, maybe in a different way, but we are. We’re here to support you, Wolffe, as much as you are us.” He didn’t have a reply to that, but Issa was happy that she’d been heard. She chanced a look down at the chrono on one of the datapads and realised it was very early in the morning.

“Hey, since we’re both up, fancy a spar? Might help tire you out.”

Wolffe took another sip of his drink with a raised eyebrow. “A spar?”

“What? Don’t think you can handle a Jedi?” Issa teased, which earned her one of Wolffe’s signature eye rolls, slow and exaggerated, and she couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his dramatics.

“Fine. But I'm not explaining to the general why his padawan’s pride is in pieces tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

The pair made their way to the training room. The open space was cast in shadow until the sensors detected their presence and triggered the lights to roll on. In the centre of the hangar was a blue mat, which Issa stepped onto gently. The plastic covering was cool beneath her feet as she stretched her arms above her head, sighing as some of the bones in her back popped. Kriff, I’ve been sitting down for too long. Across from her, Wolffe shook his limbs out and rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“What sort of spar did you have in mind?” he questioned as he pulled an arm behind his back, stretching the Republic cog in the middle of his shirt even further across his broad chest.

Issa shrugged. “You’re my military teacher. I thought you could decide.”

“Fine. Hand-to-hand it is. You know the rules?” Issa shook her head and he continued. “Mostly anything goes, though no career-ending hits, and if your opponent taps three times you let go and the match is over. Clear?”

“As transparisteel.” At her confirmation, Wolffe locked eyes with her and met her in the middle of the mat. The area they were fighting on was rather large; the hangar the mat sat in was designed to house multiple gunships, and the mat itself was almost the size of one. Issa took a steadying breath as she tracked the strong commander in front of her. 

“Sure you wanna do this Straun?” Waves of confidence rolled off of the clone as he stepped closer.

“I’m not going to break.”

“Alright.” The word had barely left his lips before he darted forward with a swing of his right fist. Issa managed to duck just in time to miss Wolffe’s punch, but her confusion left her open, which Wolffe utilised by delivering a swift kick to her ribs, winding Issa and forcing her back a few paces. 

For someone so bulky, I thought he’d move a hells of a lot slower than that. Unfortunately the universe wasn’t that kind. It seemed the commander had plenty of training on keeping his speed up in a fight. The Pantoran heaved a few ragged breaths before she willed her breathing back under control. 

“Sure you want to carry on?” The question was genuine, but the slight upturn on the corner of his lips made Issa bristle.

“Only just getting started, Wolffe.” 

They traded blows back and forth fairly evenly from then on, Issa decidedly not underestimating her commander any further. She might not have had military training, but the ways of the Force lended well to combat, and her years at the temple hadn’t all been studying and katas. She’d trained on how to fight without her weapon just as much as she had with it. It was just a skill she hadn’t had to call upon in a real world scenario in a while. As she analysed Wolffe’s movements and opportunities for attack, her training slowly came trickling back on how she could lean on the Force to make her movements more swift, her attacks hit harder, her defensive positions more fortified. 

By the time they were bone-tired and sweaty from their fight, Issa had managed to get a few good hits in on the clone commander, including a kick to his cheek that left the skin bright red. Overall, Wolffe had bested her more times and was the clear winner of the fight, but it was progress, both in her training to become a better commander and also in her relationship with Wolffe. This had been the longest the two of them had been left unsupervised, and they were both still talking to each other, which Issa felt was a great victory. 

“Not bad, Straun, though you’re thinking too much. I can tell you were holding back at times. You don’t trust yourself. You’ve got to get more comfortable with your abilities if you want to throw your all into a fight.”

“Right.”

“We’ll try again when we stop off on Coruscant, bring a few of the men in so I can point some things out to you.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Wolffe.” The commander nodded at her and the room descended into silence until an almighty yawn tore its way through Issa before she could stop herself. She met Wolffe’s gaze, a look of exasperated confusion conveyed through his raised eyebrow as she gave a sheepish chuckle. 

He huffed at her with a shake of his head. “Let’s go back to the barracks.” 

The pair of them walked in silence through the halls of the Triumphant, passing the odd pair of patrols on their way who always stopped to salute their two commanders. Finally they arrived at their neighbouring rooms and bid each other goodnight before Issa collapsed onto her bunk and drifted immediately off to a dreamless sleep.

—

The next day the 104th arrived on Coruscant. Issa, Plo, Wolffe and Admiral Coburn had been holed up in a meeting room for an in-person debrief of the situation on Antar 4. They’d spent hours divulging everything including their findings on the enemy, loss ratios and any future battle plans they had drawn up which could be passed onto the 182nd, who would be taking over the protection of the Republic-aligned moon. 

It’d been a long day, but Issa felt confident that she’d been able to contribute to the meeting where appropriate rather than just listening and learning. They’d also been told that they’d be heading to the Outer Rim to Scariff. Apparently the Separatists were planning to build a factory on the planet and were shipping in large portions of materials for the development. The 104th’s job would be to disrupt the delivery of the materials and take out as many of the enemy forces as they could. 

Since landing on Antar 4, it felt as though everything had been non-stop for the battalion. They’d barely had a moment's respite in the month they’d been fighting, and it was starting to show among the troops. Thankfully, Plo had convinced the council to extend their layover in the Republic’s capital for an extra couple days, giving the full squad some well-earned downtime. 

The news of their first night off had sent shockwaves of celebration through the ranks of the 104th, which warmed Issa’s heart. They’d fought hard in tough terrain and deserved the time to themselves to revel in their victory and remember the brothers they’d lost. What had sweetened the deal even more for the soldiers was that the Republic had created a bar dedicated to the clones right here on Coruscant where they could drink for free and enjoy their downtime in peace amongst their brothers. 

The Wolfpack were truly overjoyed with the news of a night partying and had even kindly extended the invite to their two Jedi to join them. However, Plo and Issa decided that the troopers deserved a real night off, away from their natborn commanding officers, as Issa had learned they’d been called.

At the GAR headquarters, Issa was chatting pleasantly with Admiral Coburn as they exited the meeting room, the pair trailing behind Master Plo and Wolffe. The padawan watched as the two men in front of her talked amongst themselves. It was clear to see in Wolffe’s presence how he respected his general, and while Issa was on the road to earning that respect herself, it warmed her to know that Plo had the same effect on other people as he had on her. From her few conversations with Wolffe over the past couple months, Issa had been gaining snippets on Wolffe’s views and the weight of responsibility for his brother’s safety that he shouldered, and it was clear that his trust was rarely given out. Issa was glad he at least had someone of seniority who he could truly put his faith into beyond the respectful level of courtesy he automatically gave as clone commander.

Admiral Coburn cleared his throat politely, drawing the small group to a stop. “Padawan Straun, Master Plo, Commander Wolffe, I’m afraid I will have to bid you a farewell here. Please enjoy the rest of your shore leave and I look forward to our first mission together in a few days.” 

“Thank you Admiral, we shall see you soon,” Plo replied, nodding in goodbye as the naval officer turned on his heel and down an adjacent hallway, his shiny black boots clacking on the metallic flooring as he walked away. 

“Issa, I believe we should head back to the temple.”

“Yes of cour-'' Issa was cut off by her comm chirping, the light flashing up at her from her vambrace. Her forehead creased as she clicked the button on the device. “This is Commander Straun.”

“Sir, it’s Sinker. We were hoping you could come down to the barracks with Commander Wolffe after your meeting.”

“Do I dare ask why?”

“Probably best you didn’t.” Issa could practically hear Sinker’s smirk on the other end of the line, picturing his silver eyes sparkling in mischief, likely with Boost and TP hanging over his shoulders. 

“Alright, we’re finished now so we’ll head down.”

“Well it appears you have other business,” Plo suggested fondly. “Enjoy your evening Commanders.”

Issa’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’ll be back at the temple after this, Master,” she assured. 

The Kel Dor said nothing as he inclined his head at the both of them and began walking towards the exit, leaving Issa perplexed. She chanced a look at Wolffe to see if he could elaborate on what had just transpired. Unfortunately all she received was a restrained eye roll before he silently led the way to the turbo lift, leaving her to trail after him.

During the battalion’s stay on Coruscant, their troopers were given bunks at the Guard’s sleeping quarters. The lower levels beneath the HQ practically acted as a clone hotel; there were levels upon levels of rooms for any visiting soldiers to use alongside the resident red and white troopers.

As the lift skid to a halt, the pair stepped out and made their way to where the 104th were staying. 

—-------

The slow and deliberate thump of footsteps sounded. Followed by the scrape of something metallic being dragged across the floor.

The man held his breath, hands clamped over his mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping him as the attackers' steps sounded ever closer.

Suddenly all noises came to a halt, and the man could do nothing but wait… Until–

“Booooook, come on it’s going to be morning by the time you put that ‘pad down, vod,” Boost whined as he clipped his now polished vambrace back into place.

The strategist locked his datapad reluctantly and sighed. His perfectly crafted world for his story in his mind had now officially been shattered at the interruption. Can’t get a minute's peace in this place. A heavy weight fell onto the mattress next to him, causing the clone to bounce slightly.

“Yeah Bookworm, we want some attention for a change,” Two-Pint teased, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulder and yanking him into his side for a crushing hug.

Book scowled as he fought the stronger man for his freedom, his copper hair ending up more than a little ruffled as he broke away with a half-hearted frown. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

The heavy gunner grinned. “I do.” 

“Come on short-ass, be nice,” Boost challenged with a mischievous smirk, which only widened at Two-Pint’s pout at his own nickname. Serves him right, Book thought smugly.

“Alright alright, reign it in you lot,” Wolffe chided as he made his presence known with a humoured Commander Straun standing at his side.

“Commanders! Perfect timing,” Sinker called out pleasantly as he pulled his gloves on.

With one last ruffle of Book’s hair, TP and Boost moved away to find their boots. The strategist carded a hand through his red curls to try and tame them while his Jedi Commander walked over to take TP’s spot at his side.

The Pantoran bumped his shoulder lightly with her own and gave him a small smile. “Whatcha reading?”

“Ah, it’s nothing, just a thriller novel.” He tried not to sound too deflated, but he couldn’t help it. He loved reading, but moments of jabs with his brothers served to remind him that he was a bit of an outlier in their group. He wasn’t crazy about weapons like TP and Cloud, or strong like Boost and Sinker. Instead he favoured learning and reading as his method of developing his skills as a soldier. Book knew his squad didn’t mean anything by their teasing; it was their way of showing that they cared, but even still, it did a good job of highlighting just how different he was sometimes.

Of course, the Jedi next to him was somehow able to figure all this out without him even having to utter a word. With a gentle look in her eyes behind her lenses, she placed a blue hand at his shoulder bell. “You know, as much as the ‘Pack love to wind you up, your interests are what make you you Book. Your brothers would never want you to change or be ashamed of them. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah… I know.” He gave a small smile of thanks. Because he did know. But it was nice to have the reminder every now and then he supposed. 

Seemingly content that she’d eased his worries, the Jedi looked up at the rest of the group. Their previously battle-worn armour had been cleaned and polished, not the the point of shininess as each scrape and scuff ingrained in the plastoid was a sign of each battle survived, but clean enough to not be caked with the mud and blood of their last campaign.

“So Sinker, you called?” Issa questioned as she caught the sergeant’s eye.

“Yeah, we’re going out sir, and you’re coming with.”

Still sitting next to Book, Issa sighed. “Guys we went over this-”

“Yeah but we’ve decided to overrule you, so there you have it,” Boost explained, leaving no room for argument.

“We want you to come along, Commander. It’ll be fun. You’re one of us anyway. Your insides were christened with TP’s brew,” Cloud added with a soft smile.

Smirking, Issa replied. “Oh so there is a reward for suffering through that.”

The heavy gunner in question somehow managed to pout even harder, which given his intimidating exterior, only served to make the room chuckle. “Hey! Don’t you all come crying to me when you want a night to unwind.”

“We’re kidding ‘Pint.” Sinker huffed as he threw his arm around his shorter brother’s shoulders and pulled him into a loose headlock. 

Eventually the Wolfpack stopped rough housing and were ready to paint the town red, as it were. 

—---

79’s was a beacon of life. Neon boards decorated the walls while the sound of laughter and chatter wove through the notes of the heavy bass music reverberating through the venue. The dance floor was already packed, clones and natborns alike dancing their troubles away, connecting with new souls as their inhibitions faded and bodies moved to the beat. At the bar, a group of pilots were sharing a round of shots while a squad of commandos in their heavy duty armour took quiet sanctuary in a booth in the corner, flirting with the beings who’d captured their attention. 

Issa couldn’t quite believe that the Republic was providing such a normal place for the troopers to unwind. I suppose it’s the least they can do. After all, they are heroes fighting for the civilians across the galaxy, protecting their way of life.

As the Wolfpack made their way towards an empty table, Issa noticed a few of the patrons whispering as they passed. While most of 79’s was full of plain white armour, she supposed a maroon, wolf-stylised commander and Pantoran Jedi were a bit of a giveaway as to which battalion they were. It seemed their success on Antar 4 had been passed through the other ranks. 

Next to her, Boost nudged her with his elbow, smirking. “How’s it feel to be famous, Commander?”

“Famous is a bit of a stretch.” Issa rolled her eyes at the sergeant who chuckled next to her.

“I don’t think that’ll be our last big win, so you best start getting used to it.”

Once the group had settled in their spot, Issa had offered to get the troopers their first round of drinks, allowing them to relax for a moment while she navigated the sea of bodies to reach the bar. After finally clearing a space for herself to lean forwards, the Pantoran drummed her fingers on the neon surface as she waited to be served. She was minding her own business until the being next to her gave her a nudge, knocking the Jedi off balance. Frustrated at the person’s lack of awareness, she spun around to confront them. That was her plan at least, but unfortunately the person she came face to face to made her pause, her fiery words dying on her tongue.

“Quin? What are you doing here?” Issa breathed. 

There he was, Quinlan Vos, Jedi Master and Shadow, back from his extended mission like he hadn’t just disappeared for a year without a word. It’d been a while, but it appeared his flare for the dramatic hadn’t changed.

“Issa! I was supposed to meet Aayla but she got stuck doing General things, so I stayed for the free booze and pleasant scenery. Fancy seeing you here.” His honesty and cheeky smile were so familiar that it nearly made her heart ache. It’d been too long since she’d last had a chance to spend time with her friend and despite all of his bravado, Issa had missed him dearly. He looked well, a few new scars littered his bare upper arms and his dreadlocks had grown, extending to his jawline, but he was in one piece. A weight the Pantoran didn’t know she had been carrying suddenly lightened, and she smiled fondly at the Kiffar’s antics.

“The drinks aren’t free for you, you know,” she chided.

“Ah but surely they’ll have to take pity on a poor religious figure like me. Remember young Padawan, Jedi can have no attachments, which means no material items, which means no credits to buy those items, which means free watered-down Corellian ale,” Vos explained while lifting his drink in the air in a ‘cheers’ motion before taking a satisfied sip.

“That’s not how that works, and you’re incorrigible.”

“Thank you,” Quin replied with a beaming smile of pride.

Without another word, Issa launched herself at the man, locking her arms tightly around his neck and catching him by surprise. “I’m glad you’re home safe.”

Issa felt it as Quinlan relaxed in her hold and wrapped his own glove-clad arms around her middle, smiling into her shoulder. “Missed you too, kid.”

Issa was finally able to place her order and while she waited, she spent the time catching up with the man she’d come to look up to as a brother. His mission had been a success, as they always were, and he managed to take down a critical drug ring in the outskirts of the Mid-Rim. 

Smiling with pride, Issa nudged the man beside her. “Sounds like another job well done.”

“Yeah, it went about as well as the Council would allow.” The end of his sentence was slightly muffled as he lifted his glass to his lips, but Issa heard him all the same.

She took a moment, trying to unpick the meaning hidden in Quin’s words. “The Council? I thought you were heading this as a Shadow?”

“Let’s just say if it was up to me, I’d still be out there.”

“Why?” Issa’s brows were furrowed as she tried to navigate Quinlan’s vague hints.

The Shadow Jedi seemed to have noticed her questioning look and snapped out of his mood with a heavy sigh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. Let’s talk about something else. How’s the war going, Commander?”

His sudden change of topics perplexed Issa. Whatever Vos found at the end of his assignment had him on edge, and seemed to be straining his already tenuous relationship with some members of the council. Not wanting to spark a debate about the politics of the Order at that moment, Issa let him off the hook for now and launched into her experiences of leading an army for the past month.

“You’ll have to come meet the Wolfpack. They’ve heard all about you.”

“All flattering things I presume.” Just as Issa went to reply, a light began blinking on Quin’s forearm, pulling his attention. “Ah I better get this, but I’ll see you over there in a bit.”

While Vos trudged through the many bodies to an exit, a striking Mirialan placed a tray of drinks in front of her, which Issa took with a quick ‘thank you’ to the bartender before using all her concentration to avoid spilling the ale as she finally reached the 104th’s table for the evening. 

Now that everyone had a drink in hand, the Pantoran allowed herself the chance to relax, sliding into the spot Sinker had made for her at the edge of the booth, facing Wolffe across the other side of the table. His permanent frown was unsurprisingly still in place, but it was slightly softer than usual which was nice to see. This may be as relaxed as I'll ever see him.

After a round of ‘cheers’ and the first few sips of their drinks, they asked about Quin after having seen the two of them during their reunion.

“Do all Jedi make fashion choices alarmingly unsuitable for battlefields?” Wolffe cut in sarcastically, making Issa bark out a laugh she wasn’t expecting, nearly choking on her drink. 

“Actually if Quin had his way, he would probably rather have a lot more of himself on display, but he needs things like the gloves he wears to prevent accidental use of his Psychometry. It’s a power that lets him see impressions or events tied to an object based on who’s touched or used it previously. As you can imagine, that can get quite invasive quite quickly.”

“Woah, can you do that?”

“Unfortunately not. Jedi all have similar basic skill sets, the standard things we’re taught at the temple, but some of us excel further in some areas or are born with special abilities. Quin was born with Psychometry. It’s a common gift among Kiffars, and it runs in his family. He’s grown incredibly skilled in it, but it can be quite overwhelming at times, hence the gloves. While psychometry is one example, some Jedi have been known to have deep connections with animals, plants, space matter and even technology, making them easier to read or utilise with the Force.”

“Have you got a fancy skill, sir?”

“I’ve always been quite good at illusions. In fact it’ll probably start to come in handy during the war so I’ve been working with Master Plo on pushing my skills a bit quicker than we normally would.”

Wolffe raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What do you mean by illusions?”

“Care to be a volunteer and find out?” At Issa’s challenge and smirk, Wolffe scoffed. 

“Fine.” He was clearly intrigued but trying his damndest not to show it. The Jedi humoured him and took his feigned indifference as consent for her demonstration.

Issa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Using all her concentration, she manipulated the molecules around her using the Force, picturing as each one shifted and changed to mimic the image she set in her mind. As she let the air out of her lungs, she allowed her eyes to flutter open once more and took in the clones surrounding her.

“No way.”

Issa spared a look down at herself, and sure enough, she was clad in white and maroon plastoid, the skin of her hands no longer blue, but a beautiful tan. 

“That’s creepy, two Wolffes is the stuff of nightmares, turn it off!” Two-Pint squealed as he tried to hide behind Book, who rolled his eyes at the heavy gunner.

Vos chose that moment to slide into the Wolfpack’s booth, smirking and elbowing Issa in her side, breaking her concentration and shattering the illusion. “I see you’re doing your-” Quin paused to do a little waggle of his fingers, “-magic show.”

Huffing, Issa shoved the Kiffar back, making him chuckle and throw an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah well we can’t all read emotions like you. Gotta find my ways to be useful somehow.”

Quin then infuriatingly chose that moment to ruffle her hair, making her bristle slightly in annoyance as her troopers chuckled, Wolffe notably was taking great joy in her embarrassment at the hands of the Shadow as he smirked slightly behind his glass. 

“When I tell you guys that your commander got us into some trouble over the years at the temple using those little tricks of hers.”

“Ha! I knew I liked you sir!” Two-Pint exclaimed with a beaming grin.

Soon introductions were made, and the rest of the evening was spent in pleasant comradery with the Wolfpack and Vos. Issa realised now that she’d been worried about nothing. Spending an evening with her troopers hadn’t seemed to have stopped them from being able to enjoy themselves and relax, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy spending her free time hanging out with them. They were a fun group; even Wolffe had gradually loosened up ever so slightly as the night dragged on, matching the boisterous energy of his brothers around him as they joked and wound each other up. 

It’s nice to see.

—----

Much to Book’s dismay, the Wolfpack and two Jedi had eventually gravitated to the dance floor as the alcohol in their system began to do its work. The strategist had cut himself off a few drinks prior to that, not interested in losing control of himself that evening. Subtly, Book had managed to excuse himself from his dancing battalion, giving him the chance to escape to the sanctuary of the bar where he could take a moment to himself. He even managed to snag an empty stool, pulling himself up and trying to catch a glimpse of one of the bartenders so he could place his order. Unfortunately, it was still fairly busy, so he was left to his own devices for a moment. To keep himself occupied, he spent his time eyeing up the liquor on the back shelf of the bar and trying to guess if he could name each luminous bottle. He’d definitely read up on enough world exports by now to be able to identify most of them, so he began cataloguing each spirit quietly to himself as he waited.

For not the first time that day, the peace in his mind was once again shattered, but instead of the cause being his squad, it was the result of a loud crash of a server droid clattering into one of the beer taps. Every being in the vicinity scattered in fear of being drenched as the tap went up in a dramatic fountain display, leaving the now damp Mirialan bartender to deal with the situation.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit.” The bartender cursed as the battered ale tap continued to spew everywhere despite them attempting to use their hands to stop the spray. Unfortunately, the tactic only served to push the liquid to the floor as opposed to up in the air.

Looking around and noticing that no one was coming to help, Book pushed off of his stool and walked over to the scene.

“Excuse me, do you-”

“Look I’ll serve you in a sec, can’t you see i’m a bit busy?” the Mirialan snapped, huffing a breath to try and move their damp claret fringe from where it had fallen across their face. The sheer look of concentration as they attempted to fix their predicament caused the black geometric facial tattoos trailing down the centre of their forehead to crease between their brows. Book knew it wasn’t the time or place, but he dared to think that the bartender looked rather cute while flustered. 

No, that is not helpful right now. Wise up, Trooper. Book cleared his throat, gearing himself up to try again. “Um, sorry, I was just going to offer some assistance. Your method of stopping the leak isn’t the most efficient. I’m happy to help.”

Those bright green eyes snapped up to his face, and he froze under the sharp gaze. Oh Maker I’ve stuck my foot in it haven’t I?

After a few dragging seconds, they finally relented, nodding behind them towards a cupboard. “Fine, there’s a wrench in there. Once you’re back we can get this sealed off and I’ll start cleaning up this mess.”

Book nodded and set about getting the tool as suggested. He ended up shoulder-to-shoulder with the bartender as he tried to get the pump to seal off while they protected his face from being sprayed with alcohol. 

It seemed they made a rather good team as after a few seconds of fiddling, Book managed to stop the flow, making the Mirialan sag in relief as they were finally free to move once again. “Thank the Maker for that… and you, I guess. What’s your name, Trooper?”

“Oh, uh Book, and you are…”

“Jae, Jae Tevv.” They reached a soaked hand out towards him before realising what they’d done and retracting with a nervous chuckle. “So Book, huh? How’d you manage to end up with a name like that?”

“It’s unfortunately very simple. I always had my head in a book while growing up on Kamino.”

“I suppose I should’ve guessed. What kind of books? I’m always looking for some new things to add to my reading list.” Suddenly, Book found himself engaged in the most wonderful conversation about literature as the two of them fell into the flow of working as a team to fix the mess from the broken tap. Jae was incredibly well-read, enjoying a variety of genres that they spoke about with a deep passion. Book was pretty sure he had a dopey smile on his face, but Jae’s enthusiasm was infectious, so who could blame him? He could listen to them talk for hours, their hands gesturing wildly, eyes alight with excitement as they relieved one of their favourite romance novels, clearly excited to finally be able to discuss the story with another reader.

All too soon, the mess was cleaned and Book found himself running out of machinery behind the bar that he could tinker with to prolong their conversation. With a sigh, he slid the wrench back into the borrowed tool box and extended a hand to Jae to help them back to their feet from where they were scrubbing the floor.

“Thank you, Book. Both for the help and the conversation. I think I've finally met my reading match,” Jae said with a kind smile. “Now that the tap’s working again, can I buy you a drink as a thank you, something a bit more upmarket than that cheap beer the Republic is feeding you boys?”

“Ah there’s no need to thank me. Plus I best stop with the drinks now. Someone has to make sure my battalion gets home in one piece, and something tells me it won’t be my commanders.” Book spared a pointed look at his two superiors. Issa was on the dance floor with General Vos, Two-Pint, Sinker, Cloud and Boost, giggling and dancing without a care in the world, her drink sloshing dangerously close to the edges of her cup. Wolffe was seated a few tables away with one human and one Zabrak woman hanging off each arm as the three of them sank a shot each before he sat back and let the two shower him with attention. Jae followed his eyes and chuckled warmly.

“Well… If not a drink, how about dinner?” Their deep emerald eyes sparkled with the offer, making Book swallow nervously as his stomach fluttered. When did my collar get so tight?

“Uh, dinner?” he choked out. 

“Yeah, dinner. Give you a chance to eat something that isn’t rations maybe. My treat, I can cook us up something.”

Book felt his face flush bright red as he averted his eyes. “Dinner. Right… yes. Dinner is good. Let’s… let’s do that.”

Jae beamed at him before grabbing his datapad out of his hands and tapping something into the notes. “Great, well, here’s my comm frequency. Drop me a message next time you’re planet-side, or if you have any more books you’d like to recommend in the meantime.”

“Yes… I'll definitely do that. Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Book.” And just when Book thought he couldn’t get anymore flustered, Jae leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. That was the moment Book’s brain finally short-circuited. “Stay safe out there, I'm holding you to that dinner.” 

Jae disappeared across the bar, set on a mission to serve the backed-up requests of orders, leaving Book standing there like a tooka in the headlights as his hand lifted up to ghost over his cheek where Jae had kissed him. 

—

It was 0300 by the time Book decided to corral his brothers, Jedi, and apparently General Vos. The Wolfpack and friends collectively stumbled out of the front of 79’s, giggling amongst themselves as TP told another Maker-awful joke.

As the laughter died down, Issa strolled up next to Book and swung an arm over his shoulder. Her dark eyes were sparkling with mischief, and the strategist shook his head in anticipation. “Soooo Book, where did you run off too?”

To his right, Sinker crept up and also threw an arm around him, officially trapping him for their questioning. “Did my eyes decei-” Sinker’s question was abruptly interrupted by a chest-shattering hiccup, “...ow… anyway, did my eyes deceive me, or did I see you talking to that cute bartender?” The silver-haired clone waggled his eyebrows, making the Pantoran to Book’s left cackle loudly in his ear.

“Well actually, I was. And um, I think… I think I’m going on a date?” 

At his admission, the whole group paused and spun around to face him. Book felt his face begin to heat under their teasing gaze, and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, TP launched himself at him to crush the slighter clone in an almighty hug, knocking his previous two captors aside. 

“Look at my little Bookworm, all grown up, going out on dates. It’s so karking cute it nearly brings a tear to my eye,” TP announced loudly while clutching Book to his side and wiping fake tears from his face, making the strategist flush with embarrassment as he shoved the heavy gunner off.

Everyone extended their congratulations to Book and finally continued on their way back to the barracks. As they walked the lower levels, Book chanced a look up to the sky above, littered with the shimmering lights of speeders flying in all directions, and he couldn’t help the smile that grew across his face until his cheeks hurt. Despite the cheeky comments, Book felt everyone’s genuine excitement and happiness for him which warmed his heart, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he was more than just a soldier bred to die on the battlefield. Because surely no cannon fodder could feel the sheer peace he felt in his chest at that moment.

—--------

Finally they reached the GAR HQ, and Quin cheerily went to bid them all a goodnight. But as he turned to Issa, his demeanour changed slightly. Issa had seen that look before during her years growing up at the temple. He was plotting something, and she had a bad feeling about just what was going on in his head.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

With an air of nonchalance, Quin shrugged and lifted his hand to examine his finger nails before answering. “Do you remember that time you broke Obi-Wan’s favourite tea pot?”

The question sent a wave of guilt coursing through Issa, bringing the memory alive in her mind as she tried with all her might to push it away. It was years ago. She’d been trying to do something nice for Plo as Master Fisto had let it slip that the Kel Dor’s birthday was coming up. So Issa had decided that she’d try and make her Master his favourite tea as a surprise. She knew Obi-Wan had a full set that he brought out when he had people over, and she would’ve asked his permission but of course the young council member was stuck in the same meetings for the day as Plo. So, she’d made the decision to borrow it and leave a note, thinking Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind. But as she went to leave his quarters, she tripped and couldn’t get her hands out from under the tray quick enough to use the force to catch the fragile items, leaving her to watch as they hit the ground and shattered into a hundred pieces. She’ll never forget the image of Obi-Wan’s sad blue eyes as he cleaned the broken porcelain from his floor later that day.

The Pantoran cringed. “You know I do.”

“Well, you know how I covered for you and got a twenty minute lecture on my lack of appreciation for other people’s property and you said, and I quote,” Quin paused to clear his throat before his voice changed to a higher pitch, attempting to mimic Issa. “Oh Quin, my hero. Thank you, I owe you big time.”

“That’s not verbatim and I do not sound like that,” Issa huffed.

“Well the gist is there. The point is, I’m looking to cash in that favour. I know I said my mission is over and the council is moving me on to another problem, which is great and all, but I don’t think my job on this one is done just yet.”

“Well, did you tell them that?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t exactly happy with me. Apparently because of the war we’re spread thin, and they need me to move on. I’ve gone against their word one too many times now, so they’re watching me like a Blood Eagle this time. Listen there’s a guy on the lower levels here, level 1313. He’s got connections to the Narkabb family and there’s been rumours that the crime lord’s cousin is looking to take over while there’s a power vacuum. I just need you to go down there and find out if that’s true so I can put it back on the council’s radar for someone else to pick up.”

“Maker Quin, that’s a big ask. Plus I don’t exactly want to go around pissing off the council. The same council where my Master, who is freakishly good at telling when I'm lying, is a member.”

“Yeah well, you do have the sabacc face of a Tooka in Plo’s defence,” Quin conceded with a chuckle, before shaking himself and guiding the conversation back on topic. “But seriously Issa, this information could help us save some lives later down the line. The Narkabb family is bad news, and if they’re coming back with a vengeance. People are going to pay and it won’t be me; it’ll be innocent people.”

His words were starting to affect her, wearing down her resolve. “Surely there’s someone better suited for this. Have you not heard back from Desh yet on when he’s coming home?”

Quin sobered for a moment at the mention of his closest friend. “I still can’t get hold of him,” he admitted with a frown that looked far too out of place for the usually easy-going Jedi. The admission that Desh was still out there alone, his status unknown, sat heavily on Issa’s chest.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t ask you for this if I thought I had any other option,” Vos insisted.

Issa gnawed at her bottom lip as she weighed her options. She’d never gone against the council’s wishes before. There’s rules and hierarchy in place for a reason. But the urgency in Vos’s dark eyes was tearing at her logic. This means a lot to him, to save the people this family has hurt. 

I’m so going to regret this in the morning.

“Ugh, fine, I'll do it. But I swear if I go down in front of the council for this Quin-”

“Kid, you won’t, I promise. I’ve got you covered. You're a lifesaver. Thank you.”

Issa crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man before her. “Are you ever going to stop calling me ‘kid’?”

“When you stop being younger than me maybe.” Quin smirked at her before sweeping her up in a hug, mumbling his thanks again into her shoulder.

The pair bid each other goodbye and Issa jogged to catch up with her troops. The Pantoran just managed to join the clones in the lift before the doors sealed shut. 

She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath as she tilted her head back against the durasteel of the lift and closed her eyes. 

Maker’s sake, Quin. It’s been nearly ten years since the teapot incident, I can’t believe he’s been sitting on that for so long.

Next to her, Issa heard the small clang as one of the troopers copied her stance. Cloud quietly leaned a few centimetres closer before whispering. “Hey, everything okay? You seem tense.” 

The quiet ones are always the most observant, Issa thought fondly.

“Yeah Cloud, I’m good. It’s just been a long day.” She didn’t expand further and he didn’t push, which Issa was beyond thankful for. The two of them stood in companionable silence as they observed the rest of the Wolfpack chatting amongst themselves while the lift continued to plummet down floor after floor to their accommodation.

The troopers had been kind enough to provide her one of their spare bunks for the night to save her having to sneak back through the temple in her inebriated state. Gracelessly, Issa nosed-dived into her bed for the evening, all background noise falling away as she settled into the hard mattress and flat pillow. As the dark bliss of sleep closed in around her, a final thought drifted through her mind, in particular an image of her Master’s amused, all-knowing look earlier that day when Sinker had first called. Issa smirked to herself at the reminder. 

He knows me too well.

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