#done with geonosis but now there is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rexscanonwife · 1 month

Text

First Impressions

The galaxy was in pure chaos. She wasn't one to shy away from a bit of chaos now and then. In fact, some would say she was something of an expert back in her padawan days! This was different, however. Ever since The Battle of Geonosis, everyone from the outer rim to the heart of Coruscant was in a tizzy to say the least. Drawing lines, choosing sides, making plans, and in the middle of it were the Jedi. Once they were the galaxy's humble peacekeepers, now they were expected to fight this war for the citizens they had sworn to protect.

A/N: I suddenly got in the mood to write a little something about the day Kepler was assigned as Brea's padawan because I don't think I've talked very much about how everything started! No warnings for this one, just a short drabble and some dialogue to sort of establish their relationship dynamic at the beginning to set the stage. Maybe I'll add onto it and include their first mission, maybe not, but for now here it is! (Divider cred. @/cafekitsune)

Brea’s foot tapped anxiously against the spotless floor of the temple as she wrote out the report on her last mission, her boots leaving slight scuffs on the pristine marble in the process. She'd developed the nervous habit over time after suddenly finding herself in the position of Commander, less than a week after becoming a Jedi Knight to begin with.

She had no battalion to command. When she was deployed on missions, it was usually either as backup for a Jedi General who'd gotten in a bit over their heads as they attempted to push back Separatist droids with their clones, or she went out solo. Using her skills to scout out potential threats, in which case she was solely responsible for the outcome of such missions…and for all the paperwork. Her least favorite part of the job.

Getting shot at by droves of nasally-voiced droids was somehow preferable to this. Her eyes strained against the walls of text on the datapad before her, a headache beginning to form from blue light exposure. Her focus started to wane as she wondered how a droid could have a nasally voice anyhow? What kind of person would program them with that particular kind of voice box? Was their intention to annoy the Grand Army of the Republic to death?

“Speak with you, may I, Young Callisto?” An unmistakable voice and speech pattern shook her out of her thoughts.

“Oh, Master Yoda! How can I help you?” She said, lowering her datapad to reveal the short, green Jedi before her.

He was not alone, however. A young boy stood awkwardly just a few inches behind him. His small frame was emphasized by his posture, shoulders slightly hunched as he looked nervously between her and the back of Yoda's head. Though his robes were disheveled and seemed to be just a bit too big for him and his signature braid was done rather sloppily, he was obviously a padawan. Seemed the right age, probably between 12 and 13 years old. He wore thick goggles that obscured most of his face, but behind them his brow was furrowed, and he had slight wrinkles under his eyes that he was definitely too young for.

She didn't have to use the Force to know that this was a kid who didn't want to be here. That begged the question, why was he? She looked back towards Yoda for answers.

His large ears twitched as he leaned against his cane, always taking such a long time to say what he was going to say. She tried to remind herself that she was in the presence of someone much older and wiser than her and to not get impatient.

“Young Callisto, a very important task for you, I have. As you know, spread thin across the galaxy are the Jedi. Yes. Very thin.” He started pacing slowly, his cane tapping against the floor as he did so. “As many hands as possible, we will need to win this war.”

Finally, he gestured to the boy. “Introduce yourself, young one.”

He seemed unprepared, as he suddenly snapped upright and his hands fumbled to clumsily grip at his robes. “O-oh, me do it? Ok, uhm…my name is Kepler Quinn, Master Jedi!” He punctuated this with a quick and shallow bow, more akin to a nod than anything else. His small voice had an extremely distinct squeak to it, as though it couldn't decide whether the pitch wanted to settle up or down.

“Well, it's uh, nice to meet you, Kepler!” She smiled invitingly to try and set him more at ease, “Heh, so polite. Thank you, but I'm not a Master.” wait…

Brea began to piece together just what Yoda was suggesting and was stunned into silence for the briefest of moments. Not long ago, Anakin had told her about how a padawan was suddenly sprung onto him without so much as a warning, and in the middle of a battle no less. Sure, she had thought about perhaps someday in the future taking on a padawan learner herself, but she always thought it would be a long time from now and that it would be her own choice. And with the war going on, she just didn't have the time.

“Master Yoda, I- I- don't know…how good of an idea this is. I mean, I've only been a Knight for how long?” She stammered, not wanting to sound like she was just outright rejecting the kid when he was standing within earshot. “Do you really want me to be a master?”

Yoda hummed thoughtfully, stroking his chin “a strange and unusual time this is for us all, Young Callisto. Do things the way we have in the past, we cannot. Learn to adapt, we must. And learn from you this youngling will!” He pointed at her with his cane for emphasis.

“In need of help, General Skywalker and his men are. You and Young Quinn will go to the front lines and assist them. Yes, that is your task.”

Brea perked up just a bit upon hearing this. Ever since seeing Anakin on Geonosis what seemed like only yesterday, the two were as thick as they had been as younglings, but with how the war was going they hardly had any time to spend together. They usually ended up posted in totally separate star systems and always seemed to be running off to a new mission. This would be a good opportunity to catch up with him, once she was done saving his butt, of course.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, and out through her mouth, resting her free hand on her hip. This was classic Yoda. He wasn't allowing her a lot of time to consider it, if Anakin needed her help, then she would never be the one to keep him waiting. “Well, Kep. What do you say?”

“I guess I don't really have a choice, so…” He replied with a hint of bitterness, his eyes not meeting her gaze. This gave her a bit of pause.

“Hmm, decided then, it is.” Yoda glanced up at her knowingly. She hated when he did that, like he had some sort of trick up his sleeve in order to teach her a lesson. “If unsure you still are when you return, another master we will find for the youngling. There is no time to waste. Leave immediately, you must!”

“Yes, Master Yoda.” Brea said in unison with the boy, as they watched the ancient one shuffle down the temple hall and out of sight. There really was no arguing with him in the end, and at least for now, it seemed Brea had a padawan of her own.

—--------------------------

That was how she found herself where she was now. Her ship was roomy enough to comfortably house two people, but she had been so used to riding alone that she couldn't help but feel a sort of…weight in the Force around them. She sat arms crossed in the pilot's seat and watched the lines of blue and white light streak past through the cockpit window. There were few places as good to strike up conversation in than hyperspace.

She looked over at Kepler, who sat stiffly and silently in the co-pilot's seat, as though he was afraid to move even a muscle for some reason.

“So, this is your first time off-world, isn't it? it's exciting, huh?”

“I dunno. I feel more nauseous than anything.”

“Eh, that's normal! It'll go away after a while.” She said with a wave of her hand, a deceptively blasé gesture to hide the fact that she was actually floundering just a bit. She'd been trying to break the ice between them for a little while now, but had only managed to get similarly dry responses from him thus far. She was normally so good with younglings. When she visited the initiates when they had a break from their studies to play in the courtyards, they had lots of fun. But this one was so different. Most children raised in the Jedi Temple never see anything else until they reach padawanship, the little guy should be ecstatic right now!

But she wasn't sensing any sort of joy from him right now. Not a hint of excitement. He sat disgruntled and the slightest bit on edge like he was waiting for something terrible to happen at any moment.

“I hope you're not worried about it being your first mission, too. I promise, it won't be that ba-”

“You don't have to keep trying to talk to me, you know.” He said suddenly, cutting off her train of thought.

She quirked an eyebrow, eyeing him from the side as she idly flipped a switch here and there on the control panel to keep the hyperspace jump running smoothly. “I want to talk to you. It seems like we're gonna be spending quite some time with each other from now on, right?”

“Sure. If you say so…” He said under his breath, but just loud enough that Brea heard it over the hum of the ship's engines.

If she says so? That was more than a little concerning to say the least.

“Well, did anyone say otherwise? Come on, we're in this together now.”

He stayed quiet, retreating into himself both physically and emotionally. That wasn't good, she needed to get him to elaborate more so she could finally figure this kid out. What would her Master have done if she needed her to open up to her…?

“Well, this reminds me of my first mission as a Padawan. My Master Yora Tos was a very powerful Jedi, and she had such a kind soul. But she was also such a chatterbox. There we were, it's my first time entering hyperspace, I'm trying to focus be amazed by it and she just would not stop yammering on and on and on and on and on-”

She heard him heave a rather large sigh. Bingo.

“Alright, I'm sorry, it's just…I don't have. A very good track record with this sort of thing.”

“What, with hyperspace?”

“No, with my Masters.”

Masters…plural? It wasn't necessarily unheard of for a padawan to be reassigned once in a while. Sometimes the matchup just didn't work out for one reason or another. It seemed like what was bothering him ran a little deeper than that, though.

“How many…Masters have you had?” She pried carefully, not wanting him to clam up again. She was worried she'd made a mistake by asking when he didn't reply right away, but after a few moments and another large sigh, he did.

“Three.”

She blinked. Three previous Masters? Ok, now that actually was a little bit unheard of. Now she was starting to understand him a little bit. She only ever had one, so maybe this wasn't a matter she could relate to personally, but she felt that she could at least try to sympathize with him.

“Jeez, that's rough, buddy. Why did you drop them? You didn't like em?”

He turned away from her, leaning against the arm of the seat and resting his chin on his hand. “I didn't. They dropped me. Because I'm, well… I'm not really cut out to be a Jedi.”

Her head swiveled towards him, “Hey, don't say that! I'm sure it's not true.”

“Well, I mean? I kinda tend to fall behind, someone is always having to wait for me to catch up. My saber technique needs work. I can barely move a pebble with the Force. And on top of that I'm always getting sick.” He emphasized this with a wet-sounding sniffle and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his robe. “I'm not exactly a star pupil.”

Brea exhaled through her nose as she pondered this. All of that stuff had always come so easily to her, she couldn't imagine how frustrating it must be to struggle so much with it.

“Well, everybody has stuff they're not so good with. It just takes time. And the right guidance! Who were your previous Masters anyway?”

“Well, there was Master Tiin, and Master Koth, and I guess most recently Master Windu.”

“Whew! Well I can hardly blame you, kid.” She said raucously, “That one definitely wasn't your fault.”

He tilted his head to the side as he turned towards her, suddenly seemingly interested for the first time since they met. “What do you mean?”

“Listen, Master Windu has always been bit of a hardass.” She began, leaning back in her chair. Surprisingly enough, this got what she thought was actually a snort out of him. It was almost laughter. Not quite, but close enough. “Ha, that's probably why he's on the Council now, so I doubt much has changed since I was a youngling. His standards are so high you couldn't reach them if you were at the highest point of Cloud City.”

“Yeah…” He turned away, his expression starting to fall again.

Shoot. She dared to reach over and tried to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch ever so slightly. She retreated a bit, but suddenly it seemed like a new resolve had settled in her mind. Somehow she wasn't convinced that this kid was the problem here.

“Listen…if becoming a Jedi was easy, then everyone would do it, right? If you're here then it means you have every right to be.”

He said nothing, merely humming a noncommittal reply in return before looking ahead through the cockpit window. Her eyes turned in the same direction. The star streaks that had been shooting past them at impossible speeds suddenly slowing until they stopped entirely and returned to their natural shape as points of light in the far distance. The whole ship shook slightly as they were finally dropped out of hyperspace.

Brea sighed and rolled her neck to pop her upper vertebrae before turning her attention to the control panel, switching the ship from autopilot to manual controls again.

“Alright. Let's get down there and save Skywalker's skin!” they began their descent and soon they would be breaking the atmosphere. “In my experience, hands-on learning is way more useful than anything you can learn from silly old books anyway!”

She glanced over at him and saw how his eyes widened as he watched the planet's surface slowly approach them. His lips pulled tightly in a sort of grimace as he was no doubt imagining what sort of scene awaited the both of them there. So, he was a bit nervous about his first mission. In an ideal world, it wouldn't have been under these circumstances, but at least one thing was clear to her. She wasn't gonna let anything happen to him.

“Remember, I got your back out there, kiddo.”

He swallowed harshly and turned, throwing her a thumbs up and some semblance of an awkward smile, revealing that he had a gap between his two front teeth. Something she hadn't noticed before now.

Fear response or not, this was the first smile she'd seen from him this entire time, and as she returned her focus to the ship's steering apparatus and prepared for landing, she smiled back.

31 notes · View notes

adragonsfriend · 7 months

Text

Mace Windu, thinking: *Wow Anakin sure has matured a lot in the last few months since Geonosis.*

Meanwhile Anakin, who travelled 18 years back in time and so is currently like 38: hehe hoohoo I put on my bird cosplay and i make Windu do the thing I want (the thing being something Mace would've done by himself decades ago if he'd known it was a problem)

--an accurate summary of chapter 2 of Tales of Ryloth (pt 4 of Biting His Own Tale)

Also Anakin: Yeah I knew there were slaves in the senate since I was a kid, what of it?

Mace *I have literally no clue how this even became a problem in the first place but I sure am gonna fix it right fucking now* Windu: Literally nobody else knew that

#star wars #biting his own tale #mace windu #anakin skywalker #double agent anakin #time travel fix it #tatooine slave culture #granted the bird cosplay is actually a pretty mature decision #star wars yeeteth

69 notes · View notes

halfagonyandhope · 3 months

Text

before anybody has to bleed

"May I suggest, Master, that we give Kenobi one last chance? The support of a Jedi of his integrity would be invaluable in establishing the political legitimacy of our Empire."

"Ah, yes. Kenobi." His Master's voice went silken. "You have long been interested in Kenobi, haven't you?"

"Of course. His Master was my Padawan; in a sense, he's practically my grandson—"

"He is too old. Too indoctrinated. Irretrievably poisoned by Jedi fables. We established that on Geonosis, did we not? In his mind, he serves the Force itself; reality is nothing in the face of such conviction."

— Matthew Stover, Revenge of the Sith novelization

---

Her comm blinks through the dark.

She’s half asleep, half alert, and thinks it might be a dream – because only one person has the frequency of this particular secure comm device, and he’s never used it, not once.

Until now.

Satine struggles against the duvet for a second before managing to reach the ornate bedside table. She answers the call and sits up, and the last of her dreams leave her.

“Obi?” she says, in quiet disbelief.

Her comm blinks through the dark.

She’s half asleep, half alert, and thinks it might be a dream – because only one person has the frequency of this particular secure comm device, and he’s never used it, not once.

Until now.

Satine struggles against the duvet for a second before managing to reach the ornate bedside table. She answers the call and sits up, and the last of her dreams leave her.

“Obi?” she says, in quiet disbelief.

“I woke you,” comes the voice from the other end, usually so calm and centered but not so tonight. “Of course, I apologize; my timing is terribly inconvenient – ”

She cuts him off. “That is inconsequential,” she says, shifting her legs so her feet can slide into the slippers next to her bed. She stands and shrugs on a robe. “What has happened? Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan breathes out deeply. “Not in the commonly-used definition of that word,” he eventually says.

Satine waits, knowing if she asks more questions, he’ll give her more non-answers.

“I just returned from Serenno,” he begins, and Satine stills. She reminds herself to keep breathing as he continues. “It was not the original destination I’d been sent, but it became apparent rather quickly that whatever threat the Jedi thought they would address on this mission…it had been manufactured precisely because the Jedi would address it.”

“The Jedi were baited?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer right away, and Satine hears sounds of traffic around him, and then the sound of rustling fabric.

“Where are you, Obi?”

“Lower levels of Coruscant,” he says, and she understands immediately what he doesn’t have to say: he can’t be overheard by the Jedi.

Satine bites her lip.

“To answer your question: yes, we were baited. But the bait was specifically for me.” His voice drops in volume. “The leads I had led me to Serenno. I knew why I was going before I set foot on the planet.”

“Risky,” murmurs Satine.

She can hear the wry smile in his voice as he responds, “You would have done the same.”

“Perhaps,” she says. “I assume this was Count Dooku’s plan? Whatever would he want with you?”

Obi-Wan breathes in. “On Geonosis, a couple standard years ago, he…” He clears his throat. “Dooku asked me to join him, to defeat the Sith. He said the Republic was under the control of a Sith lord. A complete lie of course,” he says quickly, as though to convince himself.

Satine hesitates.

“Don’t tell me you believe him?” asks Obi-Wan, incredulously.

“Dooku is a liar,” says Satine firmly. “But that does not mean that every sentence he has ever uttered was false.” She tries to make her tone gentle, but she’s not sure she succeeds. “What else did he tell you on Geonosis?”

She can almost hear his eye roll through the transmission. “That the Dark side has clouded the vision of the Jedi. That the Sith were the root of the corruption in the Senate. That we could weed out the corruption…if I joined him.”

Satine leans against the transparisteel of the door to her balcony, blissfully cool against her hot skin. She feels her heart pulse. “Obviously, you refuted him, or we would not be having this conversation,” she says. “So I presume him luring you to Serenno was more of the same?”

“Precisely,” says Obi-Wan.

“And again, you must have refused. So what do I owe the pleasure of this late call?”

Obi-Wan’s silence slices through her ribcage, piercing her heart.

“You did refuse, did you not?” she whispers.

“I didn’t agree to join him,” hisses Obi-Wan. “But I didn’t refute him, either.”

“Ben…”

“My master trusted this man, Satine. You heard how Qui-Gon spoke about him. And this forsaken war – it drags on. And on. Whenever we feel we are close to ending it, we find out we’ve been outwitted. And even though Dooku was saying more of the same, I began to wonder…could he be right? Is that why we haven’t been able to make headway? Are we being played from the inside?”

“I could have answered that question for you before the Republic joined the war,” says Satine, and she makes no effort to hide her acerbic tone. “All war is a game. There are no winners – just players.”

“I’m well aware of your feelings on the subject,” says Obi-Wan, and it’s clear he doesn’t have time for a lecture. “I called you because I want someone to tell me I haven’t gone mad for considering he might be telling the truth about this.”

The tension leaves her shoulders. “You haven’t gone mad, Obi-Wan,” she says gently.

“Do you think he’s lying?”

Satine closes her eyes. “Would Qui-Gon think it is a lie? What would he tell you to do?”

Obi-Wan half-sighs and half-laughs. “Qui-Gon would tell me to look for the truth, even if the Council are convinced they already know it. He would tell me to look for the truth precisely because the Council are convinced they already know it.”

“He was wise, Obi.”

“I miss him.”

“I do, too.” Satine smiles sadly and opens her eyes. “But he passed that wisdom to you. Use it.”

The disbelief in his tone is clear, despite the static of the transmission. “Are you suggesting I tell Dooku that I accept?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Satine says. “I am suggesting that you present this to the Council, similarly as you did to me – though I would also suggest that less is more with them. Tell them an opportunity has arisen to spy on Dooku. It would not be the first time the Council has tried to gather intelligence on him.”

“You know about that?”

“Asajj Ventress is at the top of most governments’ Most Wanted lists, so yes, we know about that.”

“Never doubt Mandalorian intelligence,” says Obi-Wan, and she knows he’s impressed.

“You need the Council’s support if you are to infiltrate Dooku’s circle,” says Satine. “Mainly, it would be impossible to hide an extended period of absence as this would require. And your former apprentice would probably track you down if he thought something was amiss.”

Obi-Wan chuckles. “You are…not wrong about that.”

“You will need to frame this carefully,” Satine continues. “They will pull you the moment they suspect you think Dooku has made a valid point. They are so focused on not losing the war that they are losing sight of how best to end it.”

He is quiet for some time, and Satine listens to him breathe.

Then, he says, “I fear I am as well.”

“That fear is why you are not, you know.”

She suspects he’s smiling, just a little. “The war must end,” he says. He’s on the move again, and the sounds of the city around him almost drown out his words. Satine strains to hear. “So that there can be an after.”

Satine has indulged herself of countless plans for this after, from abdicating her title and facilitating free elections to retiring to Kalevala. She knows Obi-Wan would have made a fine Duke Consort, though he would have despised it, and that was only one of the many advantages that had occurred to her of abdication.

She thinks he too, perhaps, dreams of such a life.

“Obi,” says Satine, pulling him back to her. “Do not forget whose side you are on.”

His reply is immediate, his calm palpable.

“Yours, Satine. I’m on your side, and it would be nigh impossible to forget that.”

#heyo i'm finally back!#it's only been 84 years #okay it's been two but #next up: finishing “when the skies catch fire”#star wars fanfic #satine kryze #obi-wan kenobi #obitine #the clone wars

28 notes · View notes

slotmachines-fearofgod · 6 months

Text

sorry in advance, this IS angst. not proofread or edited heavily since it's just a WIP, but y'all have been patient with me so i figured it could be a little treat :3 let me know what you think in the comments!

—

The day that Marshal Commander Cody died was an entirely unremarkable one.

It had been a busy market square in the Outer Rim. Closer to Tatooine that anyone would’ve liked. A raider’s run, soldiers and slavers clashing to defend or steal the people there. It was a common occurrence, the people there later revealed to Obi-Wan.

Cody, in all his stubborn glory, put himself between the people of that planet and the raiders trying to take them. He got cornered, got shot, got left for dead. Rex didn’t know why he hadn’t called for help, hadn’t had the chance to ask anyone and hadn’t been able to stomach reading the report.

Obi-Wan delivered the news to him. Rex delivered it to the batch. Only then did Obi-Wan file the official paperwork.

Fives had been hovering for the past few days. So had a few others, but especially him. Rex had thrown himself head first into work, giving himself little time to rest or come back to himself.

Anakin and Obi-Wan approached him to offer Cody’s old position at Obi-Wan’s side. He was one of the most qualified and knew how Obi-Wan thought. He’d seen Cody’s day to day and knew what would be expected of him.

Rex had politely refused and excused himself to go throw up in the fresher.

Rex had never really had a batch. He did, but he was weird. Different from them. Difference was deadly on Kamino.

It had been Cody that found him, Cody that took him under his wing, Cody that taught him the importance of brotherhood and loyalty. He took an angry fucked up kid and made something worthy out of him and for that Rex would never be able to repay him.

In the quiet of his room, the rare hours that he allowed himself sleep, he stared at the ceiling with tired eyes, unable to find rest. He stared and thought. Thought about the man Cody was. Thought about how Rex would’ve done anything for him. Thought about how he’d never see him again.

Thought about how that was his big brother. Thought about how he used to think Cody was invincible.

During their very brief time as children, Cody was untouchable. He was smart as all hell, good at getting in and out of trouble quicker than you could blink, and egregiously annoying about it. He used to tease Rex about coming back with a blush on his cheeks and a scowling trainer, boasting about how he wouldn’t have gotten caught.

He’d only ever gotten caught for Rex’s sake. Once, when Rex had really fucked up, Cody took the fall. He left with the trainers, coming back hours later bruised and beaten from the extra training they forced on him. He’d met Rex with a wide smile and an arm around his shoulders, crowing about how Rex should see the other guy. Rex hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry.

Fives had been hovering. Even now, he sat in Rex’s office while Rex worked, uncharacteristically quiet. He was scanning through mission reports, actually doing his work for once.

It was sort of nice to have another body with him. To not have the crushing loneliness take him.

It had occurred to him a few days after Cody’s death that Rex was alone now. Not truly, never truly alone, not while other clones existed. But still lonely.

He’d always had his big brother with him, taking the fall for him, protecting him. He had memories of life before Cody, but they were fuzzy and far away, like remnants of a dream. The day Cody shoved himself into what he thought was an unoccupied storage closet to escape Fox’s wrath, only to bump into a small and sulky CT was the day Rex’s life changed for the better. It was easy with Cody. They knew each other. He always stood in front of Rex in the most annoying ways.

He thought he lost Cody once before. Before he’d grown used to death and the silence that accompanied it. Cody took a shot for him on Geonosis. Rex had never been so angry and he’d never felt so loved.

I’m your brother, Cody had said, I’ll always take the shot for you. Stop acting like that’s a surprise.

Rex had gone back and cried. It was before he had Torrent and the 501st. Back when it really was just him and Cody. He hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of Cody going without him. Hadn’t been able to breathe when he thought about his brother dying, leaving Rex alone to fend for himself.

It felt vulnerable in a way Rex hadn’t expected. Like all this time Cody had been a pillar of protection and without it Rex was left to the wolves. He couldn’t flip on his comm and shoot Cody a message asking for advice. He couldn’t wander to the 212th bunks during shore leave to catch up with him and complain about his Jedi. He’d never get to see if Cody would grow a pair and confess to Obi-Wan. He’d never get to spend the end of the war with his brother, endless days under some gentle far off sun.

They’d made plans when they were kids about what they’d do once they left. It was the only promise Rex allowed himself to make. He knew there were no absolutes in war, but so long as he had the list and he had Cody to check it off with, he was okay.

They’d gotten less than halfway through when Cody died.

Fives’ comm beeped and Rex watched his brow furrow. Rex thought about what he’d do if Fives died. He honestly didn’t know.

Fives looked up at him, took in his demeanor, and his face relaxed. Rex had gotten too transparent with everything going on.

“I’m heading out,” Rex said, the hoarseness in his voice surprising even him, “I’ll be back by dinner.”

“I’ll come with,” Fives said quickly, already getting to his feet, “Where are we going?”

“Meeting,” Rex said, closing out of his work, “It’s above your security level.” It wasn’t, it wasn’t even a meeting, but Fives would insist if he told him that.

“I’ll talk to the General then,” Fives said, “I’m sure it’ll be fine this once.”

“Fives,” Rex started, before hesitating and backtracking, “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Fives’ face hardened and he crossed his arms, “Rex -”

“I’ll see you later,” Rex sighed, his armor feeling like it weighed two hundred pounds, “Try to wrap up those reports while I’m gone.”

Fives jaw clenched but he nodded. Rex appreciated that about him. He knew when to push and when to let things lie. Many people thought he was brash, charging in with no regard to his surroundings. Rex always felt the opposite. He liked to push, yes, and he liked to get his way, but he only pushed when it was needed. When he was seeing something Rex wasn’t.

He reminded Rex a little bit of Cody sometimes.

Rex often wondered if it had been Cody and Fives on Umbara instead of him. He wondered if Pong Krell would’ve been able to take them apart the way he did. Those two were strong in ways he wasn’t.

Rex left his office, fixing his helmet over his head as he went. They’d landed on Coruscant two days ago, four days after Cody’s death. Rex hadn’t left the bunkhouse for anything except food and a summons to the Jedi Temple.

He took a breath as he exited the complex, hating the weight of his kama as he moved.

Cody never had a kama. Everyone mocked and made fun of him for it except Fox. Rex always thought there was some unspoken agreement between those two, some burden their ranks afforded them that the rest were all kept from. Rex had never been jealous of their relationship until now.

He made it to the Coruscant Guard Complex almost unconsciously, too caught up in his own head to follow his feet until suddenly he was standing at the entrance. A trooper in red nodded at him from the front desk. Rex nodded back, taking a seat in the waiting area.

It wasn’t long before Fox came down, also in his full kit. He greeted Rex as warmly as he ever does, which is to say not very, and gestured for him to follow.

“Almost everyone else is here,” Fox said as they walked side by side through the winding hallways, “Just missing Bly.”

“So you mean Wolffe is here,” Rex attempted to joke. Fox’s nonanswer was all he needed to know that it fell flat.

Sometimes Rex thought about Fives and his batch. Watching it shrink piece by piece, losing and losing and losing until all you have is yourself. Between Cody and Ponds, he was beginning to understand it better than he wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” Rex said quietly, one of the overhead lights flickering as they passed.

Fox waved him off, “Gallows humor. It’s understandable.”

They walked in silence for another five minutes, the white lights painting everything in a stark light. Shadows were almost non-existent here, only lurking behind closed doors and corners the unnatural light couldn’t quite reach. It was too harsh.

Rex entered Fox’s office, taking a look around the space. It hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d been here. There was still an old, cheap looking couch in one corner, a massive desk piled high with flimsiwork and datapads, windows that overlooked the Senate Complex, and if he had to wager a guess at least three blasters hidden in the room.

Wolffe was currently sitting on the couch, already nursing a glass of whatever Fox managed to get his hands on this time. Pros of dealing with criminals everyday, Rex supposed. Still, Wolffe looked about as bad as Rex felt.

He hadn’t been invited to this after Ponds’ death, instead meeting up with the batch at 79s after they had their initial wake. He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to go.

“Rex’ika,” Wolffe greeted, standing to pour Rex a drink, “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks,” Rex said gruffly, “for inviting me.”

Wolffe shrugged, his back to Rex, “You were his vod’ika. Pretty sure he’d come back from the dead to kill us if we didn’t invite you.”

Rex gave the best laugh he could.

Fox moved past him, pulling off his helmet. Rex followed suit, placing his on a small table next to the couch as he accepted the drink from Wolffe. Fox looked like hell, as per usual. He had a bruise forming under his right eye, his broken nose that never quite healed right standing out more than usual next to it. He had a new scar on his jaw, a small thin line that Rex probably wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t looking.

“Prison riot,” Fox grumbled when he saw Rex looking, “Got a little out of control.” Rex nodded, accepting the answer without a fight. If Fox wanted to tell them more, he’d tell them more.

Rex moved to the couch, sitting on the opposite end of Wolffe. The elder got a temper, especially in cases like this, and Rex didn’t want to be next to him when it inevitably showed itself.

“How’s the 501st?” Fox asked, more of a polite formality than anything else. It struck Rex how weird this situation was. Normally Cody was there, a binding force that meshed two parts of his life seamlessly. It was never awkward or centered around small talk when he was there but now - now it was like they had nothing but small talk.

“Good,” Rex said simply, sipping his drink and doing his best not to make a face, “We’ve got a few more being sent off for ARC training soon and I’m working on proposing a few initiatives to the admirals about restrictions regarding eating habits.”

“Restrictions?” Wolffe asked, a puzzled look on his face, “What for?”

Rex shrugged, relaxing into the cushions, “Some of the heavy gunners and ARC troopers are complaining that their meal plans aren’t being switched to a higher protein intake despite their intensive training. I’m working with the Commander to get that fixed.”

He’d worked with Cody on it too.

Fox made a considering noise before saying, “The ration restrictions in general are a pain in the ass already.”

Wolffe raised an eyebrow at them, “General Koon got rid of those the second month of the war. What’s taking your people so long?”

“Palpatine.”

“Anakin.”

Fox and Rex made eye contact, a smile pulling at the corners of Fox’s lips. It seemed Palpatine’s influence had rubbed off after all.

“The chancellor I understand,” Wolffe continued, “But General Skywalker?”

Rex shrugged again, “He’s more concerned with action, less so politics. Doesn’t like to get involved on the administrative level aside from the fight.”

Wolffe scoffed, “Sounds like a shit general.”

Rex smiled wryly, “He does alright. General Kenobi’s been helping.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes, “The 212th can’t be expected to step in everytime Skywalker throws a hissy fit over paperwork.”

“They don’t,” Rex said, a somewhat bitter smile on his face, “I do.”

Wolffe grunted but let the subject be for the time being.

Fox turned to face Rex, “Skywalker visits Palpatine often.”

Rex nodded.

“What’s that relationship like?” Fox asked, looking at Rex with a strange light in his eyes.

Rex took another sip before answering, “I’m not sure. I get the feeling it’s complicated between him, Kenobi, and Palpatine. Everytime Kenobi and Palpatine interact I feel like they’re about to start brawling.”

“But Skywalker,” Fox pushed, “What’s his thoughts on it?”

“I guess he’s fine with it,” Rex said, “I mean, he wouldn’t be going to see him so often if it wasn’t.”

“And you?” Fox asked, “How does he treat you?”

Rex narrowed his eyes as he looked at Fox, “Why?”

Wolffe spoke up, “He’s a paranoid bastard, just answer him.”

Rex glared at Wolffe before turning back to Fox, “He’s fine. It’s fine. We get along well and the Commander and I are on good terms.”

Fox’s shoulders, which Rex had not realized were previously tensed, relaxed, “Good. Glad to hear it.”

Fox’s comm chimed. He looked down to read over the message before excusing himself to go retrieve Bly from the lobby. Rex watching him go, an alarm bell going off in the back of his head.

“Is he okay?” Rex asked Wolffe once the door closed.

Wolffe stared after Fox, an unsettling look on his face. It was times like this that Rex was reminded of how close Wolffe and Fox were. If Rex noticed something was off, Wolffe certainly had as well.

“He’s fine,” Wolffe said, something like steel in his tone, “As fine as the rest of us.”

Rex hid his wince. He supposed that was fair enough. Like he said, Cody and Fox had always understood each other on a different level.

“You?” Wolffe asked after a moment of silence. Rex looked at him, confusion written clearly across his face. Wolffe sighed, “How are you doing?”

“Oh,” Rex looked back down at his drink. He hadn’t really expected them to ask. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Wolffe drawled, knocking back the rest of his drink. He stood and snagged the bottle from Fox’s desk, bringing it over to the couch to refill. “I won’t even pretend to believe that.”

Rex frowned as he nursed his drink, “There’s not much for me to say that you’re not already thinking.”

Wolffe scrubbed a hand over his face, “Look, kid, I’m trying to help you out here. Offer you a willow branch or whatever the saying is. You can’t be honest with the Jedi and you can’t be honest with your men so be honest with us.”

Rex bit the inside of his cheek, weighing Wolffe’s offer. He supposed that was the point of this meeting, to talk and memorialize and be honest. He rubbed his eye before saying, “He’s my big brother. My only brother, for a while there. What do you think?”

Wolffe leaned back, satisfied with his answer, “We’re your brothers too.”

“Yeah,” Rex agreed, “But you know it was different.”

“I know.”

Rex stared at the little scratches in his glass and wondered how many times Fox had pulled these out for similar situations. He wasn’t a big drinker, as far as Rex knew. He preferred to keep his head in order to better deal with senators and politicians. But these glasses told a different story.

“I used to wonder what he saw in you,” Rex looked up at Wolffe, only to find the other’s gaze fixed on the window across from them, “What did you have that our batch couldn’t give him? Then I realized it wasn’t about giving. It never was with Cody.”

“I wondered that too,” Rex admitted softly, following Wolffe’s line of sight to the Jedi Temple, “I still think he just felt bad for me.”

Wolffe laughed sharply, “Probably. At least, initially. But he liked you enough to keep it going.”

Rex felt his mouth lift slightly into a smile, “I’m better for it.”

Wolffe hummed in agreement and they fell into a comfortable silence. It was easier now that he had other people that knew Cody. That weren’t just eyeing him like they were waiting for him to snap. He wasn’t going to snap, largely because he already had, and the constant handling had been getting on his nerves more than he realized.

He’d gone down the night he got the news and whaled on a punching bag. He made it back to his quarters with bloody knuckles before collapsing and sobbing on the floor, crying for Cody like a child. He’d been ashamed of it the next morning, the physical evidence of a break that he shouldn’t have had blatant under the fluorescent light. He’d applied bacta from the stash in his room and slid on his gloves, hiding the winces that came everytime he flexed his fingers and raw skin rubbed up against the material.

He looked at Wolffe from the corner of his eye, wondering what his reaction had been after they hung up the call. Bly Fox and Wolffe had answered with varying degrees of annoyance before seeing the look on Rex’s face. He was pretty sure Fox knew before he said anything, but Bly and Wolffe had both been caught off guard.

Fox listened, offered his condolences, and hung up. None of them held it against him. Sometimes that was just the way Fox was.

Bly and Wolffe stayed on the call, wanting to hear the how, when, and why. Bly shut down pretty quickly, compartmentalizing as fast as he could. Rex couldn’t blame him, that was his initial reaction as well. He’d told Obi-Wan thank you and assured Anakin he’d be fine before abruptly ending the call on them.

Wolffe looked angry. He looked angry and scared and Rex knew from dealing with others that was not a good combination. He’d heard a knock on the door just before Wolffe hung up, suspecting it to be his general. Rex didn’t bother following up on that, figured either it was or it wasn’t and no matter which it was it wasn’t his business.

“I keep thinking I see him,” Wolffe admitted to the silence of the room, “Now that the 212th has landed it’s like he’s everywhere.”

Rex winced, remembering his own reaction. The flashes of orange and yellow filling the bunkhouse, each one a reminder, a possibility, a failure.

“It’s hard to move on like this,” Rex agreed, “When we all look like him. Talk like him.”

Wolffe snorted, “No one talks like him, not since Kenobi got his hands on him. Cody learned a bunch of big words and used it to sound like the smartest guy in the room.”

Rex dipped his head to hide his smile, “He’s always been competitive.”

“You’re telling me,” Wolffe grumbled into his drink, “You didn’t meet him before he developed a conscience.”

The door slid open, revealing Fox and Bly on the other side. Rex gave Bly a weak smile, he returned it with about the same level of enthusiasm. Rex let the greetings fade into the background, choosing instead to top off his drink as Bly settled in next to him. Rex poured another drink for Bly and handed it off, just trying to keep himself busy.

“What did you two talk about while I was gone?” The question drew Rex back into the conversation. He looked up at Fox, who’d taken off his helmet again, before looking at Wolffe.

“What do you think?” Wolffe drawled, unbuckling his vambraces now that everyone was there.

Fox sighed and claimed a spot on the floor, leaning against his desk for support, “Just wondering. Maybe you finally met someone desperate enough to give you a shot, I don’t know.”

“Fuck you,” Wolffe sneered, “I’m a real treasure I’ll have you know.”

Fox rolled his eyes and turned his attention to his drink, apparently not feeling like putting up much of a fight. Rex was glad for it.

The room fell uncomfortably silent, all of them looking at each other and thinking the same thing.

It was too cold in here.

They were pessimists. All except Bly, but you wouldn’t have guessed that based on outward appearance. Every single one of them lived day to day, putting one foot in front of the other, and expecting every ounce of blood that swam around their ankles.

Cody hadn’t disbelieved that, but he’d always been different. He wasn’t - Rex wouldn’t have described him as an optimist. But he knew how to be happy. He knew how to let himself go a little bit, balance the soldier and the person with effortless grace. The rest of them had never really mastered that without having help. Usually the help was Cody.

He was just good with people. Good at being a person. Good at being something other than what he was engineered to be. Cody was the closest to ‘human’ most of them would ever get.

Now, sitting in this cold office holding a glass of moonshine and staring at men that he’s suddenly not sure he’s ever really known, Rex felt like Cody was further away than ever.

Bly cleared his throat, raising his glass, “To Kote. May he march on under the light of the Manda, guided forever by his wit and warrior’s heart.”

They drank, the swill burning more than Rex remembered from the past few sips. The silence returned, heavy and oppressive. Rex’s chest felt heavy, like a weight had been placed upon him since Obi-Wan first called him and now it threatened to suffocate him.

“How’d you find out?” It took Rex a moment to realize Bly was addressing him. He looked up, reading an innocent curiosity on Bly’s face. “I assume Skywalker told you?”

Rex shook his head, “Kenobi.”

Bly sucked in a breath and nudged his shoulder in sympathy, “How soon after?”

Rex shrugged, his gaze going to the opposite wall, “About three hours.”

“How’d he break it to you?” Wolffe asked, stretching an arm out over the back of the couch.

Rex gripped his glass a little tighter, looking back down at it, “As best as he could. He asked me to pass the news along to you three before he filed the report.”

“Thank you,” Bly said, “I know it was a tough call.”

Rex ducked his head, not trusting the way his throat had begun to close up. The last thing he wanted to do here was cry.

“Alright,” Fox drawled, “Enough of the downer stuff. If he’s going to die on us the least we can do is rip him to shreds at his own wake.”

Rex huffed a laugh while Wolffe sent a sharp grin Fox’s way. Bly rolled his eyes but a small smile played at his lips. It was unconventional, and not the way Cody would’ve broached the subject, but it worked.

“Anyone got any pact stories?” Wolffe asked with a sly smile.

Pact stories were unique to this batch as far as Rex could tell. Instances or happenings from their training or later careers that were sworn to be kept between two members until one of them died. Cody and Rex had a few of their own, a few secrets and adventures that they both swore up and down they would never voice unless the other was dead and gone. It was funny, Rex had never thought he’d be the one telling them.

“He had a crush on Shaak-Ti,” Bly said proudly, cutting off Fox who’d opened his mouth to speak. “Remember when she came to see the commanders off? He gave her his comm code.”

Rex bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He had remembered Cody pulling the Jedi aside to speak with her, but it looked like a serious conversation so he hadn’t asked.

“We only knew Shaak-Ti for a month before being shipped out!” Wolffe said incredulously, “He’s an idiot.”

Bly smiled toothily, leaning back now that his bit was done. Fox sat up with a sparkle in his eye, his expression spelling nothing but trouble.

“Do you guys remember the weapons ring on Kamino? The one the Cuy’val Dar set up that the Kaminoans pretend didn’t exist?”

Rex did indeed remember it. A lot of the Cuy’val Dar were bounty hunters at one point or at least followed Mandalorian traditions. They complained about Kamino’s mass manufactured weapons, calling them cheap and useless. Rex wasn’t sure where it started, but one day he remembered seeing trainers walking around with shiny new blasters, bo staffs, and vibroblades.

“Well,” Fox grinned into his cup, “Cody found where they kept the weapons. He didn’t tell me until about a week after, during the sleep deprivation training.”

Rex remembered how much Cody hated that training. He was incredibly physically and mentally strong, but the man had a thing about sleep. He hated missing out on it, going so far as to nap in active warzones when he could if he’d missed his baseline minimum hours the night before.

“We sabotaged them,” Fox’s face morphed into one of malicious glee, one they were all intimately familiar with but hadn’t seen much recently, “Did just enough damage that nothing worked but they couldn’t prove anything without going to the Kaminoans for help. And the Kaminoans only turned a blind eye because no one talked about it. They had to buy the whole shipment over again.”

Wolffe whistled, mirth in his eyes as well. It was expensive getting things shipped out to Kamino, even more so when you’re paying for discretion. It was a good move on Fox and Cody’s part. Rex would’ve given anything to see the look in the Cuy’val Dar’s eyes when they saw what happened.

Rex finished his drink and reached for the bottle as Wolffe took his turn to speak, “One time he kidnapped a padawan.”

Bly started coughing, his face turning red as he pounded his chest while Rex and Fox stared at Wolffe.

“He did what?”

Wolffe grinned, smug as you please, now that he had everyone’s attention, “We were at 79s together, Fox had a meeting and everyone else was on a campaign or mission, and we ended up pretty much blacking out. Cut to the next morning, I’m laying in my bunk with the worst headache known to man and the first thing I see is my general standing over me very firmly asking where the padawan is. I had no clue what they were talking about, so I pointed them to Cody.”

Wolffe paused to take a swig while Rex took a second to muse over that mental image. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Skywalker woke him up by looming over his bed frame after a night out. Probably yell for Ahsoka.

“Well turns out they can’t find Cody,” Wolffe continued, the rest all leaning in, “And one of my boys told them that we’d been together. So we went to the Temple and pulled up security footage from the night before and there’s Cody, cooing over this little red head human who was about a third of his size. The poor kid was crying and it looked like Cody was trying to help but it wasn’t really working. Anyway, we followed the cameras and realized the padawan had led Cody out. Poor bastard was too drunk to know what was going on.”

Rex snorted, imagining a wobbly Cody being led by a little kid with a snotty nose and big eyes. It was the kind of routine that Rex can absolutely imagine working on his brother.

“I went back to the bunks to wait and eventually Cody comes back a few hours later looking like hell. I asked him what happened and he just went,” Wolffe pulled himself upright to a proper soldier’s posture and puffed out his chest a little more than necessary, “That’s classified. You’ll have to ask Commander Dume for the full report. So that’s what I did. Turns out the kid led him to a late night food court and he spent over one hundred credits on him.”

Bly and Fox cackled while Rex laughed and shook his head. Honestly, Rex was a little impressed by the kid. He had guts, that’s for sure.

“Anyway, Kenobi paid him back for everything but I swear Cody hid from that kid everytime he saw him afterward.”

“Isn’t that General Billaba’s padawan?” Bly asked, still laughing a little. Wolffe nodded in confirmation and Bly’s laughter picked up again as he pulled up his comm. “I have got to tell Grey about this.”

Rex chewed on the inside of his lip, wanting to tell his story but also unsure. He wanted to keep at least a part of Cody for himself.

But the other three were looking at him and Rex was reminded that for as much as he was grieving, so were they. Cody might’ve been special to him, but his brother had a lot of people on his side. They’d shared willingly, it would be selfish of him not to.

“He tried to distract a Seppie senator by flirting with him,” Rex said quickly, automatically uncomfortable with the way everyone’s head turned his way. “We were on a diplomatic mission and the Jedi were getting up to something or other.” It had been on Mandalore, actually. He was pretty sure Obi-Wan and Satine had been fooling around and it was Cody’s way of getting petty revenge during a very important political ceasefire.

“Skywalker asked us to keep the guards busy so I made up a story about needing help about something or other, but we ran into a senator on the way over. So Cody, in his full kit, decides the best way to distract him from asking too many questions was to flirt with him.” Rex smiled a little bit, remembering how horribly embarrassed he’d been in that moment watching everything happen. “As you can imagine, it didn’t go well.”

Wolffe’s laugh was practically a bark as he said, “What you mean the officer of the GAR flirting with a Separatist senator didn’t go over smoothly?”

Rex shook his head, “Well, the issue was that he started flirting back.”

Fox seemed to catch on, his jaw dropping slightly and a shocked look flitting across his face, “Please tell me he didn’t actually…”

Rex bit his lip but gave a tiny nod. A chorus of yells echoed from the other three before Rex intervened, “It didn’t get far! Cody made up an excuse and left and swore me to secrecy and that was that.”

Fox and Wolffe looked at each other, surprise still written on their faces. Bly finished his drink and grabbed another while Rex grinned.

“That’s…” Bly sighed into his cup, looking disappointed, “Actually yeah that sounds like him.”

Rex laughed, his head starting to feel a little fuzzy. It was a good buzz, the atmosphere having lightened significantly now that they were more focused on happier things. He settled into the couch, cradling his glass close to him. Maybe Cody wasn’t here, and maybe he was. Maybe he could keep him alive and with him, just for one more night.

—

Rex did not make it back in time for dinner. He’d answered Fives’ call drunk off his ass and assured him he was getting a walk back to the GAR complex and then stayed for about five more hours, drinking and talking and laughing for the first time in days.

Eventually, he had to go. The 501st was taking off the day after next and Rex would be needed to oversee the usual pre-takeoff duties. That and Fives had gotten Kix on his case as well and he really didn’t want them to physically drag him away. That would put a damper on the night.

Rex sighed as he left the Guard compound, his escort for the night graciously allowing him to lean against him. He stood at the doors, feeling the rare Coruscanti wind on his face and the cool night air hit him. It helped sober him a little, get rid of some of his haze.

“Ready to go sir?” His escort, a kid named Rune, asked.

He nodded, moving to put on his helmet before deciding against it. On the off chance he had to throw up before he could reach a fresher he really didn’t want to have to clean it out of his helmet.

They walked in silence for a bit, passing through the large stone structures that marked the entrance to this place. Rex didn’t get how Fox could stand being here. Everything was so enclosed, so ominous, so statuesque. It was too perfect, like someone was trying too hard to cover up something ugly.

Rex’s eyes drifted to the Geonosis memorial, as they always did. The names and numbers of every clone and Jedi that died during the battle were engraved on that stone, a mass etching that spoke of death, sacrifice, and war.

He had a batcher that died during the fight. He’d been surprised to be so upset over it, especially considering the distance that he himself created between them. But it had been there nonetheless, a little ball of grief that sat just behind his ribs. He wondered if he could find his number on the stone. He hadn’t lived long enough to earn a name.

Rex slowed in front of the memorial, searching for…something. He wasn’t sure what.

“Captain?”

Rex turned his head to the side at the quiet call. It sounded small and shaky.

It didn’t sound like it belonged to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“General,” Rex said, doing his best not to slur. He remembered a second too late that he was supposed to salute the man, but Kenobi waved away the motion before Rex could complete it. He looked awful. There were bags under his eyes, his normally perfectly styled hair was greasy and unkempt, and he smelled like he’d spent a week in a brewery in the Outer Rim.

“Rex,” Kenobi said. Rex waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, just stared at Rex with sad, sad eyes and an expression of despair.

“It’s me,” Rex confirmed, walking closer to the other man, “I was seeing a friend.”

Kenobi nodded, his eyes going back to the wall in front of them. It was odd. Rex didn’t think anyone but clones ever bothered to look at this.

“Are you alright sir?” Rex asked, turning to face the wall as well.

“Please don’t call me that,” Kenobi whispered, his face scrunching up like he’d gotten a taste of something sour, “I don’t - I’m not that right now.”

Rex furrowed his brow, not sure what he was referring to. Oh well. He’d figure it out later. He was too tired and too drunk for that right now.

“But are you?” Rex pressed, the giddiness from his evening beginning to vanish.

Kenobi laughed, a wet, hopeless sound that grated on Rex’s ears, “Are you?”

Rex shrugged, “I don’t know.” It was the truth. He didn’t know how he felt. His mood had been switching too quickly for even him to keep up.

Kenobi made another painful noise but didn’t answer. Rex shifted, looking back at Rune who was staying a respectful distance away. He didn’t want to waste too much of his time.

“It wasn’t your fault,” the words were falling out of Rex’s mouth before he could stop them. He knew Kenobi probably blamed himself, knew Wolffe and Fox and Bly all did too. But they didn’t see what Rex saw. Kenobi would’ve done anything for Cody, including jumping in front of that blaster for him. He would’ve done it, if he were able.

Kenobi didn’t respond but his eyes shone in the ever-present light of the planet. Rex wasn’t used to such a blatant display of vulnerability from the other man. Kenobi was always snappy, witty, ducking and dodging through conversations as artfully as he did battles.

Kenobi sucked in a ragged breath before saying, “We made plans. For after the war.”

Rex tried not to feel jealous about that. Tried not to think about the plans he and Cody had made so long ago, worlds away from this one, back when they had chubby cheeks and missing teeth, whispering under the blankets after curfew.

“What plans?” Rex croaked. Kenobi needed an outlet, as Rex had earlier. He could do that for him. For Cody’s sake.

Kenobi hummed, gathering his thoughts. Rex turned back to Rune and jerked his head back toward the complex. The younger hesitated, but Rex gave him a reassuring look and purposefully pointed at Kenobi. Rune nodded after a second and turned, pulling up his comm, likely to contact Fox and let him know what happened.

“I wanted to take him to Kashyyyk,” Kenobi whispered, pulling Rex’s focus back, “He always loved the forests the most.”

Rex thought about that for a moment. Cody and Kenobi, away from the Jedi and the GAR, pulling each other headfirst into a new adventure every day, waking up to the sounds of birdsong and sun on their faces.

It sounded like the kind of life Cody would’ve liked.

Rex told him so and Kenobi smiled weakly, “I would’ve followed wherever he wanted to go.”

Rex’s eyes burned abruptly, the emotion he’d been trying to avoid so fiercely surfacing now. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision and realizing too late Kenobi was still speaking.

“-you all the time,” Kenobi’s eyes scanned the stone, taking in the many many casualties they’d suffered, “He loved you more than anything.”

It felt like all the air had been punched out of Rex’s chest. He didn’t want to hear that, not from the man that Cody had spent long hours pining over and making plans for every chance he got. He didn’t want to hear that from the man that was supposed to be Cody’s everything.

“Did he ever tell you?” Rex asked weakly, knowing the answer to his question. Still, he looked at Kenobi, just in case.

“No,” Kenobi said softly, a tear slipping down his face, “But I knew. We both knew.”

And that - that felt like getting hit by a freighter. Cody had known all this time. He’d known and still he’d held himself back, refused to allow himself even one small pleasure while lives were at risk.

Rex wished his brother was a selfish man. He wished with all his might that Cody had been a little more cowardly, a little more covetous, a little less heroic. He wished Cody would’ve taken something for himself for once.

Rex ignored the hot tears beginning to spill down his face, looking stubbornly at the memorial in front of him, “He’s an idiot then.”

Kenobi huffed, “It would’ve been futile. It wouldn’t have changed anything. He’d still be dead.”

Rex looked at the Jedi, for the first time wondering how they grieved. The one time he’d seen Anakin do it was probably the most terrifying few days of his life. Things had been bad aboard the venator. He’d been angry and twitchy, yelling and snapping like a feral dog. Rex had stepped in between him and Ahsoka at one point, telling him to back off before he did some real damage. The look in his eyes that followed haunted Rex for weeks after. It was the first time he’d ever been truly afraid of his general.

Rex looked at the man in front of him and wondered if he loved anyone enough to be reduced to nothing like that. Wondered if the effect he had on Anakin went both ways.

“He was a good man,” Kenobi said quietly, tears flowing down his face as well, “A very good man.”

Rex clenched his jaw. He didn’t want Cody to be a good man. He wanted Cody to be here. He wanted, so stupidly and so desperately, for Cody to be here to tease him for crying over him. He wanted Cody to be here to banish the crushing loneliness that was coming back over the course of this conversation. He wanted Cody to be here because Cody knew him, and Rex wasn’t sure anyone else ever would.

He was a captain to his men, a soldier to his superiors, a brother-in-arms to Torrent, and a little brother to none.

“He was my brother,” was all Rex could say in response.

“I owe you an apology,” Kenobi said after a moment, “I believe I asked you to step into his shoes far too quickly.”

Rex tried his best to keep his shrug nonchalant, less like the flinch it truly was, “It’s alright.”

Kenobi shook his head, finally turning to look at Rex, “We both know why I really asked.”

Rex grimaced. He’d had a feeling, but no confirmation. Rex was the closest thing to Cody. The next best person. They had similar attitudes and stances. They had the same sense of humor and the same sense of severity when shit hit the fan.

He and Cody had the same sense of humanity, despite their upbringing. He would’ve been Cody’s replacement, not a commander in his own right. It was, after all, half the reason Rex refused.

“I know,” Rex said softly, drumming his fingers on his helmet. His thoughts were slow and syrupy, filtering too much and not enough. “Maybe in a few months. If the position isn’t filled.”

Kenobi shook his head again, “I don’t want to hold you to that. You’re happy with the 501st. Cody always seemed to think so.”

Rex’s lower lip trembled. He was. He really, truly was happy with them. Fives, Jesse, Kix, the whole bunch. He was a brother and a captain in one, there to lead them down the right path and it was good. It was fun. It was more than he ever thought he’d get out of this shitty life.

It didn’t mean he didn’t miss Cody with his whole being.

Before Anakin split off to form the 501st, when Rex was in the 212th and working under Cody, it had been so easy. Their dynamic barely changed as Cody remained in the lead and Rex remained staunch in his resolve to follow him wherever he went. They’d worked well together and at the end of the day they could still share meals, swap stories, and be brothers. They were still Rex and Cody.

“I am,” Rex said in lieu of all that, “An - Skywalker is a good leader.”

Kenobi smiled, but something was off. Painful looking. “I’m glad.”

They sat in silence together for a few more minutes, both discreetly wiping their faces. A few guards passed them by but no one came up to interrupt them. No one dared pull a Jedi away, especially not at this time of night.

“I should let you go,” Kenobi said. It was almost like watching an illusory trick in real life, the way he slowly collected himself until he looked more like General Kenobi, and less like Obi-Wan.

Rex nodded slowly, still drunk despite the sobering conversation, “Fives is worried. I’ve been gone a while.”

Kenobi looked at over at Rex and then behind him into the guard compound, some semblance of understanding on his face, “I’m glad you four got to mourn.”

Rex’s face twitched. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Obi-Wan knowing that’s what he was doing and where he was coming from. It made sense that he knew, given Ponds’ death and Cody’s own occasional disappearances in there to go see Fox, but still. It felt odd. Like an intrusion.

Rex didn’t say any of that, instead giving Kenobi a short nod and doing his best not to wobble too much as he walked away. He brought up his comm as he glanced back, seeing the Jedi still watching him go as the wall behind him loomed ominously. It felt symbolic, important in a way Rex didn’t yet understand. The vision of Kenobi, defeated and beat down, in front of a wall of dead clone names…maybe if he was more sober he could’ve added something to that. Bly and Ponds would’ve known.

“Fives?” Rex croaked into his comm, his voice worn from various conversations and tears, “You available for a pick-up?”

Rex heard Fives sigh into the comm, “Always Rex. How bad are you?”

Rex shrugged, forgetting that Fives couldn’t see. After an awkward moment of silence, Fives grumbled something about drunk brothers and Rex could hear him going for his boots, “Where exactly am I finding you?”

“Guard complex.”

“Jesus Rex.”

“Not like that,” Rex muttered, “Was just visiting.”

“Oh,” there was a small pause on the other end, “Oh. Fox.”

“And Wolffe and Bly,” Rex admitted, looking around for a place to sit. He really wanted to sit. “It was good.”

There was another small pause before Fives answered, sounding a little strange, “I’m glad. Support is important.”

“Yeah,” Rex hummed, “Maybe. Wasn’t about that.”

“No?”

Some part of Rex registered Fives was just keeping him talking. Another part of Rex didn’t actually care.

“No,” he said quietly, “Just remembering.”

Fives made a noise like he understood. Rex turned around to see Kenobi gone from the memorial. Briefly, something in his chest pinched and pulled tight. He hadn’t taken into account that Kenobi was also one of the last threads to Cody he had left.

“Rex? You okay?”

“Hm?” Rex’s attention was half-focused on Fives, half-scanning for Kenobi, “Yeah. Of course.” And then, because for some reason he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, “Ran into Kenobi.”

He heard the soft whoosh of the doors to the GAR barracks, knowing Fives was probably on his way, “Yeah? What’d he say?”

Rex shrugged, new tears welling up in his eyes. He tried to choke them down as he spoke, “What I expected. He loved Cody, Cody was a good man, I’ve got a job offer if I want it.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line before a little half-scared, “What?” made it out of Fives.

Rex scrubbed his eyes. He hadn’t told anyone about it the first time around. “Cody’s position. If I wanted it.”

“Oh,” Fives sounded small all of a sudden. Unsteady. “Do you?”

Rex hummed, “I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for a little bit, the various sounds of the street filtering through both sides of the comm. Rex found a seat on a bench not too far away, eyeing civilians passing by in case they tried anything stupid.

“I want you to stay here,” Fives finally said. “I know you and Cody -”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rex said, cutting Fives off before he could get further, “It was just an offer. We’re both drunk and…drunk. I’m not taking it.” Yet.

He heard a breath of relief from the other side and guilt twinged at him, “Good. I’m glad. We need you here, Rex.”

Rex hummed, looking up and for once wishing he was surrounded by stars. It was easy to get sick of it in deep space. It gave him a headache sometimes, staring out into an empty void that he knew would kill them all in an instant. But here on Coruscant you couldn’t see the sky, not after generations of light pollution. It made him wish to be away, to be anywhere but here.

“I don’t have a big brother anymore,” Rex said into the comm. It was more of a passing comment, something he’d been chewing on since Cody’s death.

“I know,” Fives sounded horribly sad in his response. Rex blinked at the comm, almost wanting to see Fives’ face. He was the oldest of his batch. He’d seen his little brothers die one by one. Rex wondered what it felt like to be on that side of things.

“I’m not anyone’s vod’ika,” Rex murmured.

“I know,” Fives repeated, quieter this time but still weighty.

Rex wasn’t sure what else to say. His big brother was gone. Nothing could change that.

“I’ll be there soon ori’vod,” Fives said kindly with only a mild note of concern in his voice, “Then we can go home.”

Rex nodded numbly. Home would be good. He was drunk and tired and a bed sounded really nice right about now.

“Rex?” Fives called his attention away from thoughts of sleep, “You know…you know we’re here for you right? We get it. We’ve all had someone die on us. You don’t have to do the command staff thing of hiding it away for our sake.”

Rex pinched the bridge of his nose, “I know Fives.” The words were automatic, completely hollowed out and said just for the purpose of being said. Both men knew it.

“Alright,” Fives relented anyway, “Just - don’t go anywhere without us.”

Rex nodded blearily, once again forgetting Fives couldn’t see him, “Aye aye Captain.”

Fives huffed in a poor imitation of a laugh, “Alright asshole. I’ll be there in five.”

The comm clicked off in Rex’s hand. Rex looked at it, considering carefully.

He entered Cody’s comm channel, surprised to see it come up unanswered. He’d have thought they would reassign it by now.

Leave a message here

The glowing blue words blinked up at him. Rex stared, unsure what to say. He began typing a few times only to erase his message, thoughts of officers or god forbid Kaminoans finding the message playing like a warning in his head.

The message clicked off when Rex took too long. He scrambled to reenter the code, though this time a voice played.

This is Marshal Commander Cody speaking. Leave me a message or send me a comm and I will respond as my schedule allows.

Rex wanted to laugh. Of course Cody would program a voice message into his comm. Of course it would have a very pointed fuck you to everyone who thought they could walk all over him.

He wanted to laugh but the noise that made it out of his chest was anything but happy. He gripped his pulse point over his wrist, shoving the comm back into his belt, and tried to gulp down breaths of air.

He missed him. Gods above he missed him. He didn’t think he’d ever stop missing him. He knew the ache dulled, knew it from experience and from watching others around him, but here and now he was alone. Alone and sobbing on a bench in Coruscant, the looming specter of death behind him. A memorial, a reminder of everything Rex had lost, here to tower over him even now.

“Rex?”

Fives.

“Rex,” Fives sighed, putting a little more step into his walk as he made it to Rex, “Let's get you home, yeah? I think it’s time you called it a night.”

Rex nodded again, letting Fives sling his arm over his shoulder and moving forward obediently.

“You know I love you right?” Rex asked, not looking at Fives.

“‘Course I do,” Fives responded, keeping his eyes forward as well, “Why?”

“Just need to tell you,” Rex sighed, his eyes sliding half shut, “Just in case.”

Fives’ grip on him tightened. Rex tried not to think about how soon this might be taken from him too.

#commander cody #the clone wars #captain rex #cc 2224 #ct 7567 #my writing #fanfic #star wars #angst #hurt/no comfort #grief #character study #major character death #also sorry for being MIA #its midterms szn #and my mental health is hell #everything is bad so i made everything in here bad too

33 notes · View notes

cabezadeperro · 3 months

Note

im back and i got one actually in the spirit of the prompt this time !! reading comprehension !! casablanca w/ fox/fives/echo (or any combination thereof, there are many possibilities contained within that movie)

hiiii! thanks for sending this one, i've been in a writing funk lately and this was just what i needed ❤️

established relationship, fives lives au, 940w.

---

They’re deep enough Fox can’t quite see the sky when he looks up. He approaches the edge of the landing pad and looks down instead—the void looks back. They’re on one of the dead levels, and the chute is dark almost all the way down. Now and then something flickers in the distance: Fox knows better than to use his bucket’s HUD to find out what it is, even if part of him wants to.

The small Corrie station set up in the abandoned hangar doesn’t exist. The shock troopers on shift aren’t actually there; neither is Fox. They are all ghosts haunting a place that isn’t real, and if Fox was a different man he’d ponder the weight of such an idea, but he isn’t, so he doesn’t. He stands with his hands linked at his back and his head tilted, his men’s quiet conversion filling the empty hangar.

The rumble of the swoop’s engines fills the quiet. Fox blinks and looks away from the flashing lights beneath his feet, his boots quiet on the hangar’s worn tarmac, and looks to his left. He exhales—just the once—before clicking open his comm channel with his men.

“Corporal. Movement half a click westward,” he says.

A beat, and then: “Understood, sir.”

By the time the bike lands next to Fox, Corporal Fee and Carrie are gone, and Fox is all alone in the hangar with the small freighter.

It also doesn’t exist. Fox can’t quite remember who used to be its owner: it doesn’t matter. It was, and now it doesn’t, it has just become a redacted or corrected line in an unread report.

Fives waits until Echo is off the swoop bike to follow. They’re both wearing civvies, and they both look remarkably comfortable in them. A few months with the 501st, ARC training, a year and a half of intelligence operations in Separatist-controlled worlds. They are younger than Fox by almost a year, but in a way he’s the greener of the three. He might have survived the first battle of Geonosis, but he then was sent to Coruscant, to stand guard in places that don’t exist.

Echo waits by the swoop while Fives comes closer. Fox recognises the stubborn tilt to his chin, and that’s why he doesn’t take off his bucket. He waits, hands linked at his back and heart beating hard in his throat, and when Fives stops in front of him, he doesn’t reach out.

“The ship’s going to Kuat,” Fox tells the two of them. “You should have enough fuel and rations to make it there. Name’s Cant. Everything’s as legit as I could make it, but be careful.”

Whatever happens next is up to them. Fox doubts they’ll be smart about it, but he trusts them—he trusts Echo—to be stupid in clever ways.

“Come with us,” Fives says then. Fox closes his eyes. He breathes in, breathes out. He pushes through the awful longing in his chest.

“No.”

Fives presses his lips together. He’s not done. Fox ignores him, looks at Echo over his shoulder—he can’t help it. He’s watching them.

Fox doesn’t actually know him—he didn’t have the time. He was dead, and then he was back on Coruscant, and now he is leaving again.

He looks better than he did that first morning when he sought out Fox in his office in the Rotunda. He’s filled out, not as pale—the harsh lines around his mouth have softened. His hair is starting to grow out.

“Fox—”

“It’s a two-seater, Fives. Crew of two,” Fox tells him, and he knows it won’t work, but it is how it is.

Echo approaches them then. He places his flesh hand on Fives’s shoulder and stays there, and says nothing. His eyes are fixed on Fox, and Fox finds he doesn’t like the way Echo looks at him—like he understands.

Fox steps around and away, shakes off Fives’s hand when it tries to close around his wrist. He needs to return to the surface—he can’t be missed. He’ll drive the swoop to the back of the Corrie barracks and take a transport from there after destroying the transponder.

“Take off your helmet, commander,” Echo says then.

Fox pauses. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t have to. He doesn’t care what they think. If he doesn’t take it off they will know he doesn’t want them to see his face; if he does, they’ll—

The click and hiss of the bucket’s seal is too loud in the quiet. Fox blinks at the shadows within the abandoned hangar. The warm, damp atmosphere is a shock, as it is the stink of old tibanna and rotting garbage that seems to fill the whole level. Fox closes his eyes for a beat before turning to look at them, bucket held safely in the crook of his arm.

He raises an eyebrow at them. Echo’s smiling slight, the gesture quietly smug. At his side, Fives looks quietly heartbroken.

Fox looks away. He clears his throat. “Well?”

He expects Fives’s kiss: Fox sees him coming, and he closes his eyes and gives in to Fives’s warm hands, to the familiar taste of his skin, salt and GAR-cleanser and clean sweat.

He doesn’t expect Echo’s. He reaches for Fox with his metal hand, the crude prosthesis clacking against Fox’s pauldron, gripping the plasteel with terrible strength, and then Echo’s mouth, his chapped lips against Fox’s.

It’s clumsy and too short. Echo leans away and licks his lips.

“You’ll have to do better next time,” he says. Fives snorts.

They leave first; Fox waits until Fee gives him the all clear and then follows.

#echofoxfives #vhocho #maría writes #movie au prompts

24 notes · View notes

greydepa · 10 months

Text

Why Depa Billaba & Captain Grey are my ship?

To me the most underrated Jedi Master is Depa Billaba. It's because she wasn't in the battle scene at Geonosis in AOTC, wasn't in ROTS and only had a cameo in Season 7 of the The Clones Wars. It wasn't until the Kanan comic book and the 1st episode of The Bad Batch that we learn of her death when her clones (including Captain Grey) turned on her and her Padawan Caleb Dume (Kanan Jarrus). It is one of the best Order 66 death scenes and saddest. You see her blasted by the clones a couple of times as she screams to Caleb to run. You never see her death, just Caleb running and hearing her screams and this makes this the saddest for me.

In the Kanan comic book her death is shown more as Grey shoots her in the back.

Now everyone has a favorite Jedi besides the main characters like Obi-Wan and Anakin. Mine happens to be Depa Billaba. Like Obi-Wan who treats Anakin as a brother, she treats her padawan, Caleb almost as a son but she still comes over as a badass.

Everyone has a clone ship, like Rex & Ahsoka, Bly & Aayla, etc. Mine is Depa Billaba & Captain Grey. Your going to ask why, after he just gunned her down in the back. Well many love the Bly Aayla ship even though he gunned Aayla down in the back too. Many feel Bly kept firing on Aayla to give her a quick death. For me it's different with Depa and Grey. They had been together from the beginning of the Clone Wars and he was one of the only survivors of a battle with General Grievous but had stuck with her when after she healed from her battle with Grievous and helped create a new Battalion with her. But it is in the Kanan comics, when the clones are hunting Caleb and Grey shows his real regret for what he has done and blasts the Imperial ship's control panel to save Depa's padawan Caleb.

So this is my reason, saving Caleb, it's almost like a mother and father saving their child. It also makes me feel that because Grey saved Caleb there might have been more between Depa & Grey and that's why they are my ship. They would also have made a great couple Post Order 66 AU ship.

#star wars #depa billaba #greypa #greydepa #commander grey #the clone wars #clone shipping #caleb dume #captain grey #depa billaba x captain grey #clone ship

45 notes · View notes

wizardofrozz · 11 months

Note

hi, Rozz!!! from the kiss prompts, can I please request:

"i'm sorry, i had to." with Sawbones (simping uncontrollably for him tbh)

can’t wait to see how the mean one handles a first kiss 😅

Love It When You Hate Me

OC Sawbones x reader, Original Clone Troopers

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: mention of injury, Sawbones being an asshole. I think that's it lol

A/N: Thank you for the ask Sev 🖤 I get so unbelievably happy when anyone simps of Sawbones lmao I got a little carried away with this but I don't even care, it was worth it 😂

Before the war, you hadn’t traveled much, staying busy in the emergency wing of Coruscant General. Then Geonosis happened, millions of troopers materializing out of thin air to fight a war most people hadn’t even been expecting. That was how you ended up working for the GAR, traveling around the galaxy to lend your medical knowledge to the troops that needed it most. You had visited several medical centers and worked alongside combat medics across numerous battalions.

The Ord Cestus Medical Center was your most recent assignment, offering an extra set of hands after a large influx of troopers came in. You smiled at the clone stretched out on the bed before you as you checked his vitals. You didn’t even know his name but it didn’t seem to matter to him.

“Am I gonna make it, doc?” he asked, a smirk lifting the side of his mouth. The trooper’s arm was secured to his chest, his right shoulder still healing after being violently ripped from the socket.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, smiling when he laughed. It was a welcomed sound in a place so steeped in pain, meaning you noticed when it cut off abruptly. You checked for any sign that he was in pain but his expression gave nothing away; you followed his eyes across the room and held in a sigh.

As a civilian, you hadn’t been sent into combat areas, making relief missions your most common assignment. Most of the time you spent with a battalion was fleeting but there was one that was an exception: the 104th battalion, the Wolfpack. General Plo Koon’s men still fought infantry battles but they also spent the most time rescuing other troops or offering aid to civilians. If it was by accident or due to a request from the general, you were called in, along with a few other civilians, to offer their medics a few extra hands.

Now, seeing one of those medics, most notably the chief medical officer, wasn’t what you were expecting.

Sawbones looked just as stormy as ever despite the crutches he was hobbling around on. You had heard the stories, the things he’d done in the name of the Republic but your inner idealist wrote them off as exaggerations. Although, when he trooper beside you shifted uncomfortably, glancing at you, it made you wonder. You followed Sawbones’ journey across the room, letting your eyes linger when he stopped at another Wolfpack member’s bed. You huffed under your breath and turned back to the trooper you were treating, gently patting his arm.

“Get some rest,” you ordered with a smile. The trooper flashed you a tense smile before shuffling down, stretching out on his bed. The next patient on your list was a few beds down, closer to where Sawbones was still lingering and you slowed your pace. You had your fair share of run-ins with the Wolfpack’s mean CMO and while his attitude made you want to steer clear of him, there was something about him that had your mind wandering back to him.

Sawbones was harsh on a good day but you had also witnessed a side to him that you’d almost consider...soft. He threw nasty comments around, scaring off anyone who dared get too close but he cared for his injured men with a gentle hand. You had a feeling his threats weren’t empty, but he wanted to help more than hurt, even if he had a funny way of showing it.

Sawbones turned his head slightly as you neared your next patient. His beard was neatly trimmed and you could only remember seeing it long and unruly out on the field. Now that you thought about it, that was the first time you had seen him in anything but his armor; the starchy, gray scrubs made him look softer, less abrasive. You offered the trooper, Dodger, a smile as you approached his bed. It was hard to miss the anxiety lining his expression and you hoped the simple gesture helped a little bit. Dodger’s jaw flexed but he squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath in preparation.

“How are you feeling, Dodger?” you asked, perching on the corner of his bed near his feet.

“Been better,” he mumbled, pointedly not looking at the hip-to-ankle cast he wore. You could feel eyes on your back and ignored the curious glances as you reached for his hand. Recovery was going to take some time but there was nothing unrepairable.

“Enough babying them.” You jumped at the voice from over your shoulder, twisting around to find Sawbones leaning on his crutches, his face twisted in a scowl. “They’re soldiers, not children.” There was a tense silence as you just gaped at him, taken aback by the bitter edge to his voice. Endless, dark eyes bore into yours and it took you a second to shake off the shock.

“Excuse me?” Sawbones arched a brow before shifting his attention to Dodger over your shoulder.

“You live to fight another day. Congratulations,” Sawbones said, his tone flat and uninterested. Dodger blinked a few times before letting out a long, slow breath, and slumping down in his bed.

“Uh, thank you, sir,” he murmured, nodding at the medic. Sawbones grunted before making a slow turn, heading back across the room and all you could do was stare after him. When you looked back at Dodger, there was a half-smile on his face that only grew when he caught the flabbergasted expression on your face.

Then the anger started to build, swelling like an impending storm and you stood so fast you staggered. Dodger tried to get your attention but you were already stalking toward the door Sawbones disappeared through. Finding him was easy, seeing that he could only move so fast and you picked up your pace. You could only imagine the look on your face but it must’ve been ominous enough for any passing staff to step out of your way.

You caught a glimpse of Sawbones disappearing into one of the smaller labs scattered around the medical center and hurried after him. There was one other clone sitting at one of the benches when you stepped inside, the pair turning to look at you.

“Leave,” you ordered, stepping away from the door. The clone hesitated, glancing at Sawbones and it only made your anger spike. “Out.” Sawbones leaned against the workbench, taking some of the weight off his broken leg, his head turning to follow the other clone as he stomped out of the room.

“What?” he asked, arching a brow.

“How dare you," you hissed, storming across the room, carelessly invading his personal space. “I am not one of your subordinates that you can talk down to. You had no right to step in like that.”

“And?” The unbothered air around him made you seethe; any crush you thought you might’ve had on him got shoved to the back of your mind. You ground your teeth together, taking another step closer.

“I don’t care what your problem is. I don’t care why you act like an asshole as if it’s your job but you will not treat me like some incompetent moof-milker.” You jabbed a finger into his chest, relishing in the quiet grunt he let out. “I’ve worked my ass off all my life and if you’re so emotionally constipated that my kindness bothers you, then I’d suggest sucking it the fuck up.”

Sawbones blinked at you, his eyes flickering down to where your finger was still pressed into his chest; when his eyes lifted again they seemed shadowed and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Suddenly, you felt your confidence withering as his expression darkened, his head tilting down, bringing your faces closer together. Just as you were about to take a step back, Sawbones surged forward, slanting his mouth against yours as he cradled the back of your head.

Your eyes widened comically but it didn’t deter him and before you knew it you were melting against him. His mustache tickled your skin and you found that you liked it, closing your fist, tugging him closer by his scrub top. Sawbones rumbled deep in his chest, parting your lips to slip his tongue into your mouth and you whined involuntarily.

It was just a kiss and yet it felt more erotic than any other kiss you’d shared with another person. The movement of his tongue was a mockery of what you desperately wished his hips were doing and it made you shiver. Sawbones broke the kiss so suddenly your head spun and you swayed closer, following his lips before you could catch yourself.

“Sorry,” Sawbones panted, his hand sliding down to your neck, “I had to. I like it when you get mean.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “You only speak one language: asshole.” It felt like a monumental accomplishment when Sawbones laughed; it was a sharp, harsh sound but it brought a smile to your face nonetheless.

“I speak another language too,” he murmured, bumping your noses together.

“Yeah? What’s that?” You barely finished the sentence before he pulled you into another dizzying kiss. Yeah, you would happily speak this language too.

Ragu list:

@a-single-tulip @wings-and-beskar @anxiouspineapple99 @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @trixie2023 @wolffegirlsunite @clonemedickix @sev-on-kamino @commander-sunshine @dukeoftheblackstar

#clone oc x reader #sawbones x reader #original clone trooper x reader #OC: CT-2697 Sawbones #OC: Sawbones #star wars #the clone wars

73 notes · View notes

roseaesynstylae · 5 months

Text

Star Wars: Republic Commando: Hard Contact, Chapter 2

"Clone personnel have free will, even if they do follow orders. If they couldn't think for themselves, we'd be better off with droids -- and they're a lot cheaper, too. They have to be able to respond to situations we can't imagine. Will that change them in ways we can't predict? Perhaps. But they have to be mentally equipped to win wars. Now thaw these men out. They have a job to do.

-- Jedi Master Arligan Zey, intelligence officer"

I'm going to add any of these...I'm not sure what these extracts at the beginning of the chapters are properly called, but I'll add them whenever they're interesting.

Zey's comment about the clones reminds me of the line from Andor. "We're cheaper than droids, and easier to replace." The difference here is that while clones are more expensive and harder to replace than droids, they're superior.

And yes, Master Zey, it did change them in unexpected ways.

"It didn't feel so bad to be revived after stasis. He was still a commando. They hadn't reconditioned. That meant -- that meant he'd performed to expected standards at Geonosis. He'd done well. He felt positive."

The implication that "under-performing" clones are brainwashed, at best, is one of the Traviss's additions that I genuinely like, emphasizing the cold detachment of the Kaminoans before they become prominent in the series. It's also just a terrifying idea.

"Darman was careful not to stare -- even though any eye movement was disguised by his helmet -- because Jedi knew things without having to see. His instructors had told him so. Jedi were omniscient, omnipotent, and to be obeyed at all times."

And here we see the official beginning of the Jedi-Bashing count. It's subtler here, but it keeps popping up in ways that are unmistakable in the context of the series' attitude toward the Jedi Order. In multiple cases, such as this one, lines that wouldn't make me bat an eye in a different book, (or more accurately, a different author), but make me grit my teeth here.

The way this specific paragraph is written is very similar to how I'd write a passage from the POV of a character who thinks the antagonist is a good person, or is brainwashed, but I want to make it clear what's really going on. Only in this case, it isn't portraying, say, a Sith cult, but the Jedi Order, which is devoted to helping others, enforcing justice, and studying the Force.

Jedi-Bashing: 1

"'This is your unit of four, then? A squad?' He seemed to be recalling a hurried lesson. 'Almost like a family?'"

This might be a stretch, but I'm not cutting this series an iota of slack when it comes to the Jedi Order. The implication here seems to be "Oh look, the Jedi have no idea what a family is! It's so unnatural and wrong, not like the good, wholesome Mandalorians!" Am I being petty? Maybe. Does Kal Skirata ranting about baby-stealers get really fucking old really fucking fast? Definitely.

Jedi-Bashing: 2

"'My squad called me Atin," the wounded commando said.

Niner glanced at Fi but said nothing. Atin was Mandalorian for 'stubborn.'"

Okay, this bit is just funny.

"Darman -- a soldier able to withstand every privation in the field, and whose greatest fear was to whither from age rather than die in combat -- felt inexplicably uncomfortable at the idea of a Jedi having failings."

Jedi-Bashing: 3

"Etain was neither a natural warrior nor a great charmer, but she was aware of her talent for spotting opportunities. It made up for a lot."

In this book, at least, I really like Etain. She's a good audience surrogate and her headspace is easier to get into than the other three narrators.

Jedi-Bashing: 3

Di'kut Count: 1

Main Post

#star wars #star wars: republic commando #star wars republic commando #repcomm #republic commando #fi skirata #darman skirata #niner skirata #atin skirata #etain tur mukan #arligan zey #bardan jusik #omega squad #pro jedi #karen traviss critical

24 notes · View notes

mydarllinglover · 6 months

Text

Stars Collided || Seventeen

Lovisa paced the corridors of the "Base" as she desperately waited for signs of anyone.

"Please, Princess, let me aid you." A Medic with blonde hair, that was wrapped up into a tight and neat bun, asked, for what seemed like the sixth time, since she had been here. "I'll patch you up, and it won't take much of your time."

"No, I'm fine." She refused, staring at the doors, once more, willing them to open.

"Princess, I'm afraid you'll catch an sickness, if you do not let me clean and dress it. It's my job, and I can not let the royal highness die, on my watch."

"Later." She rolled her eyes. "It's not bad, I promise."

"M'lady, your back is soaked in blood, and the makeshift wrap, you have made out of your skirt, has been seeped through.”

She looked behind her, at where she had ripped her skirt, allowing it to fall to her mid thigh, using the excess material to tie around her waist, had in fact absorbed the blood from her wound.

"Rex!" She called to the man, who walked through the corridor. "Any news?"

"No, your highness, but I assure you, as soon as Young Tano and Skywalker show up, you'll be the first to know."

"Very well." She sighed, dropping her head.

"Princess, please allow me to fix you up, and you can come back to tearing a hole through the floor.”

"Fine." She groaned. "Be quick."

"I will." She led the girl through the other double doors, and into a room.

Lovisa untied the fabric, dropping it to the floor, as she laid on her stomach, on the medical bed, that was in the room.

"I must say, Princess, with a wound like this, you've been holding a brave face." The medic said, sounding almost proud.

"It's nothing." She shrugged, her arms crossed under her, as she rested her chin, on them. "I watched people die, today, because I was stupid enough to get caught."

"There was nothing you could have done, to prevent it, Princess." The woman told her, as she cleaned her back.

"No, there was." She sighed. "What is this place?"

"The GAR barracks, in Coruscant, your highness. We were located here, for the upcoming war."

"War? What war?" Lovisa furrowed her brows.

"THE war, M'lady. It's been looming over our heads, for a while, but I guess it's been officially kicked off at the battle that just took place, in Geonosis, The King had been trying to prevent it, but I guess the Separatists weren't having it, considering they finally got their hands on one of you."

"Wait, what?"

"Are you not aware of what's been happening?"

"No, uhm, I- I haven't really been around, in a fortnight."

"Oh. Well, maybe this is something you could ask the King, once you're back at the Palace, I'm sorry for oversharing, your highness."

"No, no, thank you..."

"Sola, your highness."

"Well, thank you, Sola, I'm not sure if you've noticed, yet, but I am not my sister, so no one ever thinks I'm worthy of knowing anything."

"I apologise If I've overstepped."

"You haven't, I assure you, it seems as though I've just threw the first stone in a war I didn't even know existed." Lovisa promised, as she sat up, once Sola had finished bandaging her up.

"Help! Help! We need a medic!" A voice shouted, it was Ahsoka's.

"Snips!" Lovisa gasped, almost throwing herself off the bed, as she went to run out the room, Sola hot on her trail.

They rushed through the double doors, to spot Obi-Wan and Ahsoka holding up a barely conscience Anakin, who seemed to be bleeding, from his arm.

"Oh gods!" Lovisa screamed, as she ran to his side, taking Ahsoka's place. "Ani, oh, Ani, what happened."

"It seems as though two people have now bested me, in a duel." Anakin's cheek fell onto her own hair, as he mumbled to her.

"What's the damage?" Sola asked Obi-Wan, as she wheeled over a gurney, and they helped lay the boy down.

"His right arm has... been cut clean off, just above the elbow." Obi-Wan struggled to say. "We tried to stop the bleeding as best we could."

"Good." Sola told him. "I will need to cauterise it, though I'm going to need you to stay awake, can you do that for me..."

"Anakin, his name's Anakin Skywalker." Obi-Wan rambled.

"Anakin, I really need you to try and keep your eyes open."

"Vis." He paid no attention to the medic, as he raised his only hand, twirling a curl of the Princess's hair, in between his thumb and index finger.

"Ani, I'm right here, okay, I'm not going anywhere, but you gotta keep talking, alright, tell me, what happened?"

Sola nodded at the girl, as she took off the makeshift bandages on his "stump" That was still spurting blood, as they rushed back into the room Lovisa and Sola were just in.

"We- we were duelling Count Dooku, I wanted to make him pay, for what he put you through, but- he- my hands gone, he took my hand, my duelling hands gone!" He whined.

"My poor Ani." She soothed, as she took his left hand, in hers, running her other through his hair, as she tried to calm him down.

"I'm sorry, Mr Skywalker, but I'm afraid this is going to be very painful." Sola told him, as the metal tool was heating up.

"What- what are you doing! No, stop!" He fought, trying to get up, but Obi-Wan helped push him down, as Lovisa attempted to calm him.

"No, stop, she's helping, she's going to make it better, okay, just breathe, copy me, look, breathe." Lovisa took in deep breathes, in through her nose, holding it for three seconds, before exhaling through her mouth, urging him to copy, as panic shone through his eyes. "Good, good, just keep watching me, keep your eyes on me."

"You're so... beautiful." He whispered, clearly distracted as he continued to stare at her.

"Thank you." She chuckled, awkwardly, not knowing how to react, in the presence of his master and the medic.

"I'm so inlo-"

"Here, bite down on this." Ahsoka told him, shoving a leather belt, into his mouth, that Sola had grabbed out of a draw, only a few moments ago.

Lovisa glanced at Ahsoka, a look of gratitude on her face, as she swiped at Anakin's cheeks.

"Okay... I'm going to count to three, Okay, Anakin?" Sola asked him, and he nodded, looking between her and the others around him, squeezing Lovisa's hand, tightly, as he clamped down on the belt. "One... Two..."

Anakin screamed in pain, thrashing on the gurney, trying his hardest to get away from the woman who was pressing a white hot blade against the remaining part of his arm.

Obi-Wan looked away, as he kept a strong grip, on the boy, not being able to stand the sight of him in such pain, and neither could the two girls, at his side.

"Anakin, you still with us?" Sola asked, once she took it off, and his body had gone limp.

"Ani, it's over, okay, the hard parts over, you did so well." Lovisa encouraged, as she wiped away his tears. "You did so, so well, I'm so proud of you."

He shook his head, his eyes closed, tightly.

"It's okay to rest, now." Sola told him, and if waiting for her permission was the thing keeping him awake, he fell unconscious.

"Is he going to be okay?" Ahsoka asked.

"I should hope so, I can't say how long he'll be out, for, but his body is going to need lots of rest, after what he has gone through. I'll be in to check up on him regularly, but his pulse is coming to a steady pace, that's a good sign, the boy's a fighter."

"That he is." Obi-Wan agreed.

"I'll be back soon, I get the sense that he'll be watched carefully under you all?" Sola asked.

"Yes." They all answered.

"Very well." She nodded, before leaving the room, to check on the other injured, that had been brought in, after the Jedi.

"I see that you both have changed your opinions, on one another." Obi-Wan broke the silence, that had fell around the room.

Lovisa lifted her gaze, from the sleeping Anakin, meeting the man's eyes.

"I guess you could say that." She muttered. "We came to an mutual understanding, I suppose."

#anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin x you #star wars anakin #sw anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader smut #obi wan and anakin #ahsoka tano #anakin star wars #anakin and padme #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #yandere anakin skywalker

21 notes · View notes

thelightismine · 4 months

Text

having recently re-read the Republic Commando books for the fiftieth time (but the first time as a proper adult), amongst many other things that jumped out at me this time, I've been pondering the Many Failings of Kal Skirata™ - and one thing that kept me awake the other night was the realisation that...it takes Kal ages between adopting Ordo and the rest of his brothers, right??

So I went back and did the math. Kal adopts Ordo in True Colours, soon after rescuing Vau on Mygeeto, at 471 days after the Battle of Geonosis (ABG). An excerpt from the scene below:

"I never adopted you formally," Skirata said. It had been bothering him in recent days, ever since he began to think of the war as having a definite timescale. "Any of you." "Does that matter?" Skirata now felt that it did. No Mando'ad would nitpick over the bond between him and his boys, and as far as the Republic was concerned clones didn't even qualify as people, but his plans to give them a decent future had now become very, very specific. [...] "Yes," he said. He reached to grasp Ordo's hand and recited the short, no-frills gai bal manda - "name and soul," all it took to unpick history and give a child a new parentage. Mandalorians were habitual adopters. Bloodlines were just medical detail. "Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Ordo." Ordo stared at their clasped hands for a moment. He had a crushing grip. "I've been your son since the day you first saved my life, Buir." "I think you boys did the saving," Skirata said. "I don't want to imagine where I'd be without you." Skirata was now busy hating himself for not doing this before, not making the ultimate commitment, and he fretted about his five other Nulls scattered around the galaxy.

And having re-read this section in detail, it now baffles me even further that it takes him - wait for it - ANOTHER YEAR AND ~THREE MONTHS to adopt the other five Nulls??

Yes, that's correct. Kal adopts the other five Nulls in Order 66, in the scene where they all come together 'on screen' for the first time, which is set 940 days ABG. That is 469 days after he formally adopted Ordo.

At the time KT wrote these books, according to Legends, one standard year is 368 days, with 12 months of 30 days each. If I've crunched correctly, Kal adopts the other five Nulls roughly fifteen and a half months later than Ordo.

And OHHHH:

The meal was as much a rare celebration as a meeting, and the Nulls even had a few glasses of Chandrilan wine. "I should have done this many years ago, adi'ke." Skirata raised his glass. "Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad - Mereel, Jaing, Kom'rk, A'den, Prudii. There. It's formal, legal. You're my sons and heirs." "And we won't bankrupt you," Jaing muttered. "Not with the amount you're skimming, ner vod," Mereel said raising his glass in return. "Thank you, Buir'ika. An honor." At least one cause for guilt had been lifted from Ordo's shoulders. He was no longer the only Null formally adopted by Skirata. It was a legal detail, nothing more, but Ordo didn't want to be singled out as the favorite. He already felt he had a far easier time than his brothers.

what do you MEAN you just went on and forgot to do it, despite seeing them and speaking to them regularly for over a year, Kal?! yikes

Reading this back again, all I could think was - poor Ordo. It's explicitly stated here that he had been feeling and still feels guilty. Imagine living with the knowledge that your father had only formally adopted you, and not the other five of your closest brothers, for OVER A YEAR- (I will keep yelling it I'm not over it)

When they all make jokes about him being the Number One Son. When they all tease him for being the favourite. How do you think this knowledge affected Ordo’s relationship with his brothers?? Not wanting to mention it?? Do you think he ever did?? How do you think they reacted if they knew he was already adopted prior to this??

Not to mention, how does Kal not see this as something that might cause an issue for Ordo?? With how much he loves him??

I find their reactions interesting, because if they didn't know, they play it very cool. I'm leaning towards they did know, Ordo didn't just sit on this knowledge for over a year, maybe couldn't - because otherwise, why is no one asking why Kal left him out of the list? Why is their only reaction calm pleasantries?

Possibly because they don't care about formal adoption that much - it's worth noting Ordo's reaction is also to kind of brush it all away: "I've been your son since the day you first saved my life, Buir."

(I think it also opens up a bigger discussion about Ordo's role within his brothers as...almost a shield between Kal and his brothers, able to take the brunt of Kal's...manipulations to spare them the same attention - I wonder if they don't care as much about their adoptive status because it doesn't mean nearly as much to them as it does to Kal, because Kal doesn't rule them as much as he'd like to think he does. It’s interesting how Ordo is both uncomfortable with the position as Number One Son but also sees its…strategic value?? He states earlier in the scene that he'll swap drafts with Kom'rk because it's "his turn" to explore the Outer Rim, but as far as we know, he never actually does this - despite missing each other dearly, often, do the other Nulls willingly take missions that get them away from Kal? Which is why Ordo is almost never shown being anywhere that Kal isn't? Also the irony that so many people laugh at Maze for being a highly trained ARC being "wasted" in an office job, but Ordo also as far as we see never does anything flashier, nothing that couldn't be handled by a less superior officer, nothing that's far from Kal's side...)

ANYWAY

I’m just baffled as to how Kal didn’t think immediately after adopting Ordo “and now the other five” - my man, what took you so long?? If you love them all as you say you do??

HMMMM

17 notes · View notes

cacodaemonia · 6 months

Note

Ooh, for the wip game: To Live Like a Ghost

(Or wip of choice if anyone already asked about that one) 😘

Aw, hey, thanks for the ask! To Live Like a Ghost is a wip I've had in my head for over a year now but I kept getting stuck on it. I think I finally figured out what was messing me up, though, so once I'm done with some things I'm working on now, I want to revisit it.

Anyway, it's a canon-divergent AU where the war ends very soon after Geonosis, so the clones and Jedi don't have much of a bond, and suddenly, the clones are just. Not soldiers anymore. They don't really know how to live 'normal' lives, the Republic is trying to figure out what to do with them on top of everything else going on, and there are of course all the cadets to think about. So it's going to start out fairly grim when Waxer and Boil meet each other on a civilian job several months after the war ends, but if you know me, you know it will get better. 🧡

One of the main things I wanted to deal with in the fic is just how much it sucks to be poor—how that puts so many constraints on literally everything in your life.

I haven't looked at the chapter and a change I wrote months ago, but let's see...

"Speaking of him," the Twi'lek says, leaning forward and lowering his voice as he looks at Waxer. "Is it true that he did some kinda Sith mind control thing with all of you? As part of his plan to take over?" Waxer's stomach clenches. His dream from this morning is close again—prickling like ice right under his skin. Curling his fingers around the edges of his tray to keep them still, he says, "He... It was—" The speakers overhead crackle and Waxer startles. A droid's voice says, "All passengers, we will be arriving in Quermian space thirty-three minutes ahead of schedule. If you are disembarking on Quermia, please gather your belongings and proceed to boarding ramps one through three on level zero. If you are transferring to ships bound for Emmer, Troiken, or Cholganna, please gather your belongings and proceed to boarding ramps four and five on level zero. Thank you for traveling with Trans-Perlimian StarLines." Stiffly pushing to his feet, Waxer accidentally jostles his tray with a loud clatter. Grabbing it, he steps back from his seat and offers a jerky nod to the group of nat-borns. "S-sorry, I'm heading for Troiken, so I have to get my pack now. Uh, have a... nice day." "What's a clone doing on Troiken?" one of them calls as he's turning away. Pausing, Waxer glances over his shoulder just long enough to say, "I got a job on a crew building roads and trails in the wilderness."

#asks #wip

18 notes · View notes

anakinskywalkerog · 2 years

Text

My Very Soul (Chapter 28)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 27

Warnings: canon inconsistencies (general warning #1: just going to say this here—I'm not planning on following clone wars plots in this at all, so just go with it haha), mentions of death/grief, implied spice (still and always rated teen!) (plus general warning #2: the chapters that are coming will be heavier/angstier as the war progresses, so...tread carefully)

*temporarily using Lorenzo gifs for the "short curls" effect*

Summary: You struggle to master a new skill, all the while being plagued by new nightmares; a sweet reunion is interrupted

Word Count: 3.6k

"This is useless," you grunted, wiping sweat from your brow and pulling your saber back into your favored defensive position.

"Imagine where you would be," Master Yuma said in her annoyingly calm, even tone, "if you gave up each time a skill proved difficult to master." You sighed.

"No skill has ever been this difficult," you complained, watching Master Yuma hold her green blade up in front of you. "I think we might need to admit we've finally come upon the limits of my ability."

Master Yuma cocked her head, then clicked the button to switch off her lightsaber. The training room was now illuminated only by your saber blade, its green light still alien to you. You'd lost your lightsaber—the one you'd made yourself, as a youngling—on Geonosis. When you'd undergone the process again, you'd found yourself with a different colored blade. This had worried you; could this perhaps be indicative that your powers were changing? That perhaps you were losing some of your ability? Everyone had told you not to worry about it. You'd heard stories of Jedi who had forged different colored blades at different points in their training, you reminded yourself. And, of course, Master Yuma's saber blade was green. Surely the color didn't mean you were less powerful now; Master Yuma was one of the most powerful Jedi you knew. Still, while you swung your new blade around, something felt off. Different.

"Maybe we should try a different approach, today," Master Yuma said, exhaling slowly. You followed her lead, switching off your lightsaber.

"What do you mean?" you asked warily. Master Yuma gestured for you to follow her over to the meditation chamber adjacent to the training room. In here, the light was even lower, and the fabric-covered walls muted the sounds of the traffic outside. You couldn't hear the passing speeders from this room—all was quiet.

"Sit," Master Yuma instructed, and you let the air out of your chest, trying to push out your frustration.

"Master, it's been six months, and we haven't made any progress. Don't you think—"

"No," Master Yuma cut you off, putting her finger to her lips to shush you. You felt your eyebrows pull down into a frown. Master Yuma had insisted, after the Battle of Geonosis, that you learn greater control of your empathic abilities before you be given the task of commanding a battalion of clones in the war. At the time, you'd agreed, wanting to pacify your Master, and thinking that it wouldn't take long for you to learn the skills necessary to make sure no dark-sider was ever again able to incapacitate you through the Force. However, though you'd put all of your effort into it, you just couldn't seem to turn your intuition off. Together, you and your Master had tried everything. Still, you couldn't help but read in Master Yuma's presence now her patience, her understanding at your frustration, and, above all, her intense worry for you. You could even feel the presences passing by outside in the Temple hallway. Though you had been working to turn off your ability to intuit what others' were thinking and feeling, it seemed like all of the work you'd done had had the opposite effect. Your powers were growing more sensitive. It was like a bunch of hushed emotions were passing around you, all the time. You had to actively work to ignore them, to focus on the moment.

If you were being truthful with yourself, your eagerness to become a general had nothing to do with a desire to help the war effort. When you thought about the war, you felt an odd, displaced feeling in your middle. It was like taking a bite of something that didn't taste the way it should—something was just a bit off, but nobody else seemed to notice. Of course, you wanted to do your part to help preserve the republic, but you knew your desire to get onto the battlefield had more to do with joining him in the trenches than it did with becoming a soldier.

Anakin, now the leader of the 501st clone battalion, had been off-world more and more as the war had progressed. You longed to join him, to fight alongside him, to make sure you could protect him from harm. Above all else, you missed him terribly. When he was gone, thinking of him felt like physical pain. It felt as if the walls of the Temple, once your safe haven, were closing in on you, like you were trapped here.

You tried to wipe the scowl from your face as you sat on the meditation ottoman facing Master Yuma's. You recognized that she had felt where your thoughts had turned, and you breathed, pushing out your anger and frustration. You knew it wasn't anything but care and protectiveness that made Master Yuma so hesitant to let you join in the war effort. You knew this, and you knew also that, as a Jedi Knight, you weren't beholden to her judgement the way you had been as a Padawan. Though you'd thought about appealing to the council, about trying to convince them it was time for you to join in the fighting, you'd decided that you couldn't betray Yuma's trust like that. Not after everything she'd done for you.

"Okay," you said, breathing evenly now, your thoughts calmed. "What did you have in mind?" You felt the answer swirling in Master Yuma's thoughts, and you frowned.

"It won't be pleasant," Master Yuma began, looking at you with apologetic eyes.

"Shocker," you said, the sides of your lips pulling up in a small grin.

"I've been wondering for some time, now," Master Yuma explained, ignoring your sarcasm, "about the proper motivation. About how to make you want to shut out the presences of those around you." You held your breath, waiting for her to continue. "If you are willing..." Master Yuma paused, watching your face.

"I'm willing. What do you want to try?" You asked, impatience slipping into your presence once again.

"Instead of thinking of certain things, trying to distract you in combat," Master Yuma explained, her eyes lowering, "I want to try to...enter into a meditative state, with you. I want you to see if you can find a way to keep my presence out."

"And you want to motivate me to do so...by thinking of things..."

"That I believe you will find unpleasant. Yes." Master Yuma's eyes softened, showing her concern.

"Let's get on with it, then," you said, breathing out through your mouth and closing your eyes, flipping your palms to face them upward in your preferred meditation pose. You heard Master Yuma breathe out as well, and felt her discomfort and guilt. You pushed out with your feelings, trying to encourage her. Couldn't she see that your frustration wasn't with her? That your impatience had nothing to do with her training? You hadn't seen Anakin in over—

It began quickly. You felt yourself descending into Master Yuma's presence, feeling with her into the depths of her mind, into her memories. It was all so much more real in meditation than it was when you read her passing thoughts during combat. You felt as if you were experiencing Master Yuma's memories, as if you were there, seeing with her eyes. She was meditating on you, as a small child, watching Dallum push you down in the courtyard. You'd scraped your elbow, and started to cry. Yumi stood nearby, laughing with the others. You flinched, slightly, but it wasn't a bad memory, really. Not anymore. You wondered where Dallum was now. You remembered, though, that you were supposed to be blocking out Master Yuma's presence, and you began trying to extricate your mind from hers.

The memory shifted quickly. You felt with Master Yuma another memory, this one less familiar. It was a memory you weren't present for. Anakin and Henry were staring at each other murderously, the ground of a senate apartment littered with debris and shards of glass that were rumbling in the Force. Obi-Wan said something to calm the situation, and you watched as Anakin's face turned away, his angry façade falling into a pained expression. This tugged at your heart strings a bit more. You hated to watch him in pain.

The memory shifted again before you could get your bearings. Here was Anakin, again, charging at Count Dooku, trying to take him alone. You gasped. You watched in terror through your closed eyelids as Anakin was quickly overtaken by Dooku, watched as the love of your life screamed in pain, watched as the lower third of his arm was cut from the rest of him. You balled your open palms into fists. Master Yuma replayed this memory, and you worked in your mind, trying to pull each of the fibers of her thoughts away from you in the Force, trying to push away Master Yuma's memories, push her entire presence out of your head. It wasn't working.

Master Yuma's mind shifted again. You'd been here before. You stood, now, in the arena on Geonosis. You watched yourself kneeling over Eha, screaming for her, watched her dead eyes staring into nothing. You clenched your teeth with the effort, trying in vain to push Master Yuma's presence out of your mind, but you couldn't do it. It felt like each mind fiber of connection through the Force needed to be carefully disentangled—but the problem was, there were millions of fibers, and even as you used your effort to pull back two or three of them, more grew into place. You just couldn't sort through the mess enough to dispel Master Yuma's presence from your mind.

And, truthfully, there wasn't anything Master Yuma could show you that would motivate you in the way she was suggesting. She didn’t know that you were already plagued by visions much worse than the ones she showed you.

You hadn’t told anyone about the nightmares, the visions that came for you every night when you went to sleep. When you closed your eyes after a long day of training, you already saw unpleasant, terrible things. It started out like a fog, like some kind of cold darkness descending after you when you were alone. It felt like an echo of what Count Dooku had done to your mind, on Geonosis, and part of you worried that the Sith had infected your mind, somehow, that they'd left their mark on you. Whenever you were alone, if you closed your eyes to sleep, you saw all of it, every horrible vision Master Yuma could think of and so much worse. Anakin killing and maiming every member of that indigenous tribe on Tatooine; little Leve, unmoving in the Geonosis sand, her limbs splayed out from under her; Dallum’s screams as Eha stared into the black nothingness of death. Not Yuma, not even Anakin knew what you saw when you closed your eyes at night. You saw other things too, things that hadn’t happened. Things you hoped never would: a war torn galaxy; people fleeing from huge ships and men in white armor, men that didn't look like clones, men who were attacking people at will; a coldness seeping across the universe, into everything. You sucked in a breath.

"It's not working," you exhaled, opening your eyes to find Yuma staring at you.

"What was all that?" Master Yuma asked, her eyes narrowing. You felt your stomach drop. You'd forgotten to pull your presence back into yourself, in the effort of trying to wade through the tangle of Yuma's memories.

"Nothing," you said unconvincingly, looking down at your hands.

"That didn't look like nothing." Master Yuma's voice shook. You sat in silence for a moment, avoiding her eyes. Suddenly, the door to the meditation room opened.

"General Ohno," the clone stated, walking through the door and nodding to you and Yuma. You broke your meditation pose, flexing your fingers, sore from being balled into tight fists.

"Marlo," Yuma greeted the commander of her clone battalion. "What is it?"

"You're wanted in the council chambers, General," Marlo reported, all business. "It's urgent." Master Yuma nodded, and quickly stood up.

"We aren't finished with this," she mumbled under her breath, giving you a severe look before turning and following the clone out into the hallway. You groaned, watching her retreating form.

You walked through the halls of the Temple and back to your quarters slowly, lost in thought.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact reason for your unease. Was it that you weren't making any progress? New skills had always come easily to you, and you could admit that the difficulty you were facing now, in trying to halt your intuitive abilities, had you feeling a little downhearted. But—no. It wasn't that.

Was it the war? The general emotional atmopshere of the Temple and its inhabitants had changed drastically in the last six months. You knew this better than anyone, being able to sense the feelings of those around you. But that didn't seem right, either.

Was it restlessness? This was the longest you'd gone without a mission since you were a youngling. You knew the long days of training in the Temple, and the days of studying strategy while Master Yuma was away, were starting to wear on you. But—no. You knew that wasn't it.

The feeling inside of you now felt heavy, dark, and empty. It was like your insides could contain an echo—there was too much space. It frightened you. You were feeling lonely, you realized. You felt alone, very much alone. You couldn't share with Master Yuma all of the things that troubled you. You'd lost your best friend, you'd lost some of your other old friends, and you barely ever saw any of the friends you still had in the Temple. When Anakin was away, it felt like you were alone in the universe, the center of your own very empty galaxy.

You sighed. There was nothing you could do, you realized, but bear this feeling the best you could. There wasn't a way out of this emptiness. You simply had to endure it.

You pushed the panel on the wall and entered the opening door into your Jedi apartment, kicking off your boots. The apartments afforded to Jedi Knights were simple, but comfortable. The one-bedroom unit had a spacious living room with seating and a table, attached to a kitchen that contained all of the basic fares and necessary appliances. The bedroom, too, was comfortable. However, as of late you'd found the big bed too empty. Sleep had been torturous, whenever you'd been able to sleep at all.

You flicked on the lights and glanced out the window at the setting Coruscanti sun. The best part of this new apartment was by far the windows—they were much larger than those in your Padawan dormitory. You loved the natural light. You stood, for a moment, admiring the view, allowing the pangs of your empty feeling to overwhelm you, wiping a quick tear from the corner of your eye.

It was only then that you felt the disturbance. Faster than lightspeed, you pulled your presence back into yourself, assessed your surroundings, and tensed your muscles, readying to strike with your hand on your saber. In this millisecond of preparation, you reached out with the Force, trying to sense what the danger was. But—

"Oh," you breathed, feeling the Force presence in the air and almost collapsing as you turned, quickly, and reached out for him.

"You're usually more difficult to sneak up on," Anakin said in a low, quiet voice, his smile illuminated by the golden sunset streaming in through the blinds.

"Ani," you sighed contentedly, putting your arms around his neck and holding yourself close to him, allowing his presence to wash over you, bathing you in the feeling of rightness and peace.

"I missed you, too," Anakin said, a little louder, putting his hands on either side of your face and pulling you back so he could look at you. "More than you know," he continued, leaning in and holding his face inches from yours.

"What happened on Florrum?" you tried to ask, but Anakin was pressing his lips to yours, enthusiastically, without restraint. He lifted you up into his arms and placed you on the counter in the kitchen.

"I'd rather discuss that later," Anakin whispered hastily, slyly sliding your knees apart with his hand and stepping between them.

"That sounds reasonable," you agreed breathlessly, completely amenable to his desires. You felt Anakin's shoulders move as he laughed, then felt him press his hands more firmly around the sides of your neck, kissing you with reckless abandon. You loved Anakin when he was like this—when the passion of your reunion took away some of his politeness, when he was just a little bit less careful with you, when he couldn't help himself. He grabbed onto you now, his Force presence blaring his joy into the air, and didn’t let go.

You woke up the next morning with the feeling that you'd slept longer than usual. With Anakin next to you, your nightmares had evaded you, and you smiled, your eyes still closed, reaching out for him through the sheets. Your hands came up empty. Your eyelids blinked open.

You saw the light of the morning through the blinds on the bedroom window, saw from a distance the traffic passing by outside. You saw the sparse room and soft white sheets mussed. But you were in this room alone.

Panic struck your heart quickly, and your eyes widened. Surely Anakin couldn't have left already? Surely he wouldn't be gone again so soon, leaving you alone here, with your feeling of emptiness, your impossible training, your nightmares—

You got out of bed, breathing a little too quickly as you walked, barefoot, into the kitchen.

Here you let out a slow, relieved sigh. Anakin stood with his back to you, working the caf machine, his tunic tied sloppily, the hair on the back of his head messy from sleep. You glided over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

"Good morning," he said quietly, and you felt him grab your hand and pull it up so he could kiss your fingers. You stepped back as he turned to face you.

"I like your longer hair," you smiled, reaching up to run your hand through his new, short curls. Anakin smiled back, the praise causing a slight pink to grace his cheeks.

"I like your everything," Anakin laughed, tracing your face with his fingertips. You stood this way, looking into each other's eyes, for a long moment. The caf machine beeped at you.

"What have I missed, while I was gone?" Anakin asked as he turned and started to pour the caf into small cups. The way Anakin phrased this question was odd—as if he were being careful, as if he were worried about the answer.

"Absolutely nothing," you grumbled, taking the cup from Anakin and following as he lead you over to the couch. "Everything's been the same, here. Painfully so." Anakin sat next to you on the cushions and put his arm around you, leaning over to kiss the top of your head.

"I doubt that," Anakin said, still careful.

"It's true," you answered, staring straight ahead. The only updates were ones that you needed to keep to yourself. "I'm sure you have much more exciting stories."

"When does Master Yuma think you'll be ready? You know, to join us—"

"Tell me about Florrum!" You cut him off, avoiding his eyes. "You were there for so long—has the situation improved, at all?"

"Well," Anakin said, grinning, leaning forward to put his cup onto the side table. You knew he was gearing up to tell you of all of his strategic maneuvers, all of his triumphs as general in the war. He truly was a natural at this, and though you admired his skill, as always, there was a part of you that felt a disquiet. Was it because you were envious? You didn't know. For now, though, you were happy to change the subject.

"We had secured the western front," Anakin was saying, and you snapped your attention back to focus on his story. "Rex was—"

But Anakin was cut off by a beeping, coming from the chrono he'd taken off last night. It sat on the kitchen counter, blinking up the codes from its illuminated face. Your heart sank so far, it seemed to you it had disappeared out of your body all together.

"Not yet," you said softly, your eyes widening, your breathing fast. "You can't leave again already." Anakin kept his arm firmly around you, but you could feel his eyes on your face. You realized you'd absentmindedly grabbed onto the sleeve of his tunic with a vice-like grip. You loosened it, with effort.

"We don't know what it is," Anakin said, his voice unsure, leaning over to kiss your cheek before getting up to check the chrono and read through his summons. "It could just be for a strategic meeting, or—" Anakin broke off, turning his head back toward the direction of the bedroom. It was only then that you heard another beeping sound. You got up quickly, going to the door.

"It's coming from my chrono," you whispered, your panic turning to confusion. Anakin's face broke into a wide grin. You turned around to look at him, your eyebrows upturned, not understanding. "I'm...being called to the briefing?"

"It's about time," Anakin said smugly. "We're back!"

************************************************************************

WE'RE BACK!! AND THERE's A NEW CHAPTER finally :)

divider credit to @racingairplanes

taglist: @iyoogi @cluelessgurl @layazul @annadastra @graciexmarvel @galaxiasy @organasith @indigoblues1207 @outoftheregular @katsukiswrld @prettyboyrryy @jellydodger @wildflower57 @padmeamidalaslover @em-asian @heavenseraph @iloveinej @leapofblank @sahverah @elsyyie @usuallyunlikelyfox @jadeonce @papadragun @dopejellyfishfury @stxrrielle @lilianashomaresparza @prettylittlecarstairs @deadunicorn159 @atoelicker @arelisskywalker @maythefloorbewithyouanakin @your-local-crzy-lady @dontmindme262 @xenochuguardian @cassiopeiashift @allihavenegativethoughts @hamiltonwc @1-800-nostalgiaaa @heyitsaloy @haydenchristensenluvbot @sunflwrsunnieshine @muthafuckingstargirl @window-to-nothing @shadowhuntyi @jedi-archives @inmourningforanakin @vivsmcdo @betrund @ahqkas @aquaamethyst96 @escapepoet @randomstuff2040 @kenjikishimotosupremecy @nycweb-slinger @anxlaufeyson @magic-magnoliaa @theezlife @unipugrose22-blog @anhsoka @lucyysthings @hopefulpursepeanutdeputy @captainson-of-coul @zelzablues @chrisevansslutttt2

304 notes · View notes