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ivystoryweaver · 7 months ago

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It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

This has been in my drafts for a year, enjoy that

Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: You expected your best friend to be as optimistic about Life Day as he is about everything else. But he's different this year. (This is set after the events of The Last Jedi if you're interested in the timeline)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Content: Poe is a sad/tipsy/handsy puppy, angst, inebriation, drinking, kissing, misunderstandings, discussions of death, probably inaccurate Life Day nonsense, friends to lovers, pining, this boy's trauma deserves some attention ok

Poe wasn't at breakfast.

He missed your morning run together.

Life Day spirit was in the air and General Organa had released as much personnel as could be managed, particularly those who celebrated.

Maybe Poe headed back to Yavin 4 without mentioning anything?

Your best friend usually told you everything, so if he left without saying goodbye...

"Have you seen Poe?" You asked a few dozen people throughout the day, even going so far as to find General Organa, pleading with her to tell you if he was off on a solo mission, or a secret one.

She assured you she had ordered no such mission.

So where was he?

Deciding to head back to your room to change for the festivities, you tried to shake off the anxiety prickling your skin. After a quick trip to the fresher, you put on your best outfit - which was basically the only thing you owned that wasn't Resistance-issued attire.

Upon checking Poe's room one final time, you reluctantly made your way to the mess hall, which, for the people remaining at the Resistance base, would serve as a dance floor.

Colorful strings of lights illuminated the dimly lit room, mismatchedbulbs from droids and ships and even various lanterns. Trinkets special to Resistance members were strung up here and there - good luck charms and souvenirs from missions - anything that would reflect and sparkle and shine.

As if holiday magic itself was guiding you, the sparkle of a familiar gold necklace glinted, catching your eye. All the sudden, there he was, sitting in a corner, surrounded by people, slurring his way through a story of battle glory.

Shit, he was already tipsy? Not good.

His dark brown eyes brightened as they landed on you.

"There you are," he laughed out, reaching out for you, suddenly ignoring the others vying for his attention. "I was just talking about you, come here."

Despite the fact that he was nestled in a corner booth, he insisted you shimmy your way to sit down beside him.

"Poe, it's okay, there's no room. I can just - "

"Nooo, 'sokay," he waved his hand dismissively before reaching up to pull on your sleeve. "Sit with me, right here. Been waiting for you."

Poe was so damn stubborn when he'd been drinking...which is how you ended up smooshed up against his side, halfway on his lap.

"You smell so good," he murmured, burying his nose behind your ear as his arm slid around your waist.

Nudging him with your shoulder, you couldn't help but smile. "How much have you had to drink? It's early."

The corner of his mouth curled knowingly as he touched his forehead to yours. "Started early. You weren't here to stop me."

Your face heated up at how flirty he seemed this evening. "What are you talking about? I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Not everywhere or you would have found me here," he shrugged, pushing his half empty drink toward you. "Gotta catch up."

"Uh, no thank you," you giggled, trying to find a comfortable sitting position that didn't land you all the way in Poe's lap. On second thought, maybe if you finished Poe's drink, you could keep an eye on what else he chose to imbibe for the rest of the evening.

"Actually, give me that." You downed it in a couple gulps, to Poe's great amusement and a whoop from your table mates.

"Okay, okay, you have to play the game too," a fellow pilot informed you, nodding to a cheap looking bottle of something or other in the middle of the table. "Truth or dare?"

You glared over at Poe. "Truth or dare? How old are we?"

"Four-hundred thirty-seven," an alien pilot opposite you teased. "Haven't played Truth or Dare since I was around two-hundred."

"Exactly," you decided to let a couple of centuries make your point.

"Come onnn, play with us," Poe breathed on your ear, goosing your ribs, which sent your backside jerking against his thigh as you shrieked in surprise. You nearly lost your balance, but Poe wrapped his arms around your torso to steady you.

"Truth or dare?" You were asked again.

With a groan, you decided on truth.

"You've hooked up with Commander Dameron," she declared. Everyone at the table leaned in, ready for your answer. You should have known.

"No, I haven't. That's the truth."

"Commander?" She challenged, fact-checking your statement with Poe.

"Don't ask me, it's not my turn," he mysteriously shrugged, which elicited some 'oooh's' and made you groan.

The game continued until it was Poe's turn. He choose truth and was posed the same question as you. His answer confirmed yours - no hookups between you. That fact didn’t stop his thumb from languidly tracing circles on your stomach as he held onto you.

On your next turn, you tried to avoid another probing question by choosing dare.

"Kiss Commander Dameron," the older alien pilot challenged. You felt a chuckle rumble in his chest.

"Fine," you shrugged, turning your head to peck him on the cheek. A chorus of 'boo's' went up, but you silenced them, letting them know they didn't specify where or how you had to kiss Poe.

So, naturally, when it was Poe's turn, he chose dare, and was dared to kiss you. On the mouth.

"Okay, time for bed," you decided, attempting to climb out of your crowded seat and off Poe's thigh, which you were certain had fallen asleep by now underneath your weight.

"Aw, don't go," Poe complained, keeping a loose hold on your wrist, but not holding you back, in case you really wanted to leave. "It won't be Life Day without you. Promise I won't kiss you."

Your eyes met his and you swore you saw a flicker of sadness dance across them. "Okay, I'll stay, but no more Truth or Dare." Hitching your thumb at your table mates you whispered, "They're ganging up on us."

"Then let's go dance," Poe proposed, releasing your wrist and clambering out of the booth and onto the dance floor. Just to make you laugh, he did a silly twirl and struck a pose before offering his hand. “Shall we?”

"Wow, you are so drunk," you cackled taking his hand and following him willingly.

You made it to the middle of the makeshift dance floor, and he pulled your hand to his chest, slipping his other arm around your waist as you began to sway to the music.

Smiling at him sweetly, you released his hand, pushing your fingers up over the exposed skin of his chest, revealed by one too many buttons unfastened. Not that you were complaining. Up your fingers traced, toying with the chain nestled there, over the smooth column of his neck. His throat bobbed under your touch.

Looping your arms around his neck, you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, swaying back and forth with a silly, dramatic flare, which earned a chuckle from Poe. His hands found your hips and squeezed, dragging you closer until your chest pressed against his and his forehead dropped to yours.

"What is going on with you?" You murmured, heart fluttering in your chest as you attempted to keep your wits about you.

"Nothing, just...really glad you're here. Missed you today," he whispered, alcohol tinged breath ghosting your lips.

"Could've fooled me. I couldn't find you anywhere, Poe. I thought you went back home for Life Day without even telling me."

"Without you? No," he shook his head as if trying to clear the cobwebs. "Not without you. Without telling you, I mean."

“But I couldn’t find you,” you insisted, resisting the urge to toy with the curls at the base of his neck. It felt good to be close to him - to have his attention. But he wasn't in his right mind and you couldn't take advantage of your friendship. "I thought maybe you were avoiding me. I was worried."

His gaze dropped, jaw clenching as your swaying eased to a stop. "I'm sorry."

In a group, drinking and telling stories, he could keep up a festive facade but you saw right through him.

"Hey," you softly redirected his gaze back to yours. "It's Life Day. You love Life Day. Right? The tree and the lights?"

"Yeah," he whispered, eyes flickering down to your lips. "I just...I'm not feeling so festive this year."

Stepping back, you ran your palms down his arms and took his hands. "Wanna get out of here? Let's get some air. We can look at the tree."

He nodded, following your lead out into the night, gripping your hand as if you might evaporate right before his eyes if he let go.

You walked quietly for several moments, cheeks burning as a few passersby noticed you holding hands with the Commander, prompting you to finally release your hold. Without the tether, Poe’s walking slowed, turning into a listless stumble, which was how you realized he might not be in any shape to take a stroll through the woods.

Perhaps he was better off tucked into a booth, surrounded by people. The fact that you misread the situation and his needs brought a wave of trepidation and regret. You stopped walking and turned to him, pressing your palms against his chest.

It took his mind a second to catch up, so you guided him around the side of the closest building - closed for the holiday. Steadying him up against the wall, with hands on his chest once more, you apologized. “I should take you back to your room.”

Gripping your elbows, he stared at you so intently it made your knees go weak. As your body swayed into his, he wrapped his arms around you, gathering you close. Mistaking it for a hug, albeit an intimate one, you turned your head to lay it on his chest, but his mouth met yours, capturing your lips in a breathy kiss.

All the air rushed out of you as he tasted you, spreading his hand over the curve of your back and pressing and pulling you into him harder. The heat of his tongue and the solid warmth of his body consumed you utterly and you found yourself kissing him back with fervor.

The sound of voices and a clattering bottle nearby jolted you out of...whatever this was, sending you stumbling back, dazed. You felt as drunk as Poe apparently was, but from him alone rather than the half drink you’d downed.

Poe, mistaking your withdrawal as rejection, reached for your arms, murmuring, "No, no, I'm sorry, don't go."

Noticing his obvious distress, you allowed his touch, gripping his biceps through his leather jacket. "It's okay. I'm here," you breathlessly gasped, mind reeling and heart pounding. "Let me take you back."

"I don't want you to go," he whimpered, grip on your forearms tightening. "Don't be mad. I don't want...I can't - "

"Hey," you soothed, touching his cheek to direct his bleary gaze to yours. "I won't leave you. Not ever."

This seemed to appease him and he followed your lead back to his room. Your instincts seemed to somehow be way off with him tonight, and you regretted tearing him away from the fun he seemed to be enjoying before you interrupted.

Maybe it was you. Perhaps that's why he'd avoided you all day. Hot tears burned your eyes as you guided him to lie down on his bed. As he pleaded with you not to go, again, you hushed him, swearing you wouldn't.

You worked his boots off his feet before helping him sit up to remove his jacket. Climbing into bed, you wrapped your arms around him, guiding him to lie down on your lap. His distress calmed almost instantly as he murmured, "thank you" a few times, burying his nose in your tummy.

"Love you so much," he whispered so faintly, you convinced yourself he must have said something else.

Raking your fingers through his slightly damp curls, you shushed him a few times, realizing you'd never seen him like this. Tipsy? Yes. Drunk? Maybe once or twice. Handsy? Always. But broken? Not like this.

He fell asleep in minutes and only then, did you let tears escape your eyes. Before long, you felt your eyes grow heavy, so you worked your way down onto the bed, hoping not to wake Poe.

Somehow, exhaustion mingled with the pounding in your heart - from worry, from sharing Poe's bed, from the flavor of alcohol on your lips from his kiss. And from the words he uttered - things he probably wouldn't even remember.

Sleep finally came, granting you both reprieve.

The next morning, you awoke while there was barely light in the sky. Since Poe was still asleep, you decided to freshen up a bit and get him some toast and something hot to drink. You crept out of his room and back again as quietly as you could manage.

Upon your return, you were surprised to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows digging into his knees and head in his hands. Dark curls tumbled over his fingers, obscuring his handsome face from you. His shoulders slumped defeatedly.

"Hey there," you softly greeted, presenting the tray of bland food and hot tea to him like an offering. "How are you feeling?"

"Like an asshole," he lamented, voice muffled by his hands.

"Well, I'm used to that," you attempted lightly. "But you had a lot to drink last night. What was that about?"

Raking his fingers down his face, he managed to face you then, eyes bloodshot and lips parched. It was kind of endearing to see him not looking completely perfect for once.

"First of all, tell me how pissed you are. I can take it." He visibly withdrew, waiting for your verdict on how he behaved last night.

"I'm not pissed," you assured him, "just really worried. Why don't you eat something and then we can talk?"

After Poe choked down some toast, you decided to swing by your room and change while he visited the fresher. You promised to return, and when you did, he was waiting for you with open arms.

Folding you close, he breathed on your ear how sorry he was, over and over, while you pressed your nose to the clean scent of his damp neck, exposed by the clean, thin shirt he wore.

Easing back, you reached to toy with the wet curls flipping out behind his ear. "What are you sorry for?"

"Where do I begin?" He scoffed, his gaze dropping. "I ruined your Life Day. I ignored you all day. Kissed you."

"So...you're sorry for kissing me," you clarified, your stomach dropping.

"Yes. No." He shook his head, confused. "I didn't want to be alone." He winced, regretting the words as they left his mouth.

Your jaw clenched as you struggled to maintain your composure. "So you're sorry for kissing me? Or you're sorry that you kissed me while you were drunk, just so you wouldn't be alone?"

Pacing away, one hand landed on his hip while the other tore through his hair. "That's not what I meant. I...I was trying to forget everything and just drink and have fun, but not with you."

Shit. Wrong wording. Again.

"So, that's why you avoided me all day." It wasn't a question. The realization of it stole your breath from your lungs and you sank down on the bed as tears burned your eyes.

"No, baby. No." Poe was quick to kneel down before you, reaching desperately for your hands. "This is...shit, this is coming out all wrong." Seeing tears pool in your beautiful, shining eyes seared his insides with guilt and shame - his companions ever since the events leading up to the Battle of Crait.

"Tell me what's going on," you whispered. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," he insisted, bringing your fingers to his lips and kissing them urgently.

"Too many people have died," he finally confessed, his head bowed and his voice a broken whisper. "It was supposed to be Life Day, but there's only death. We lost over half the fleet."

"I know."

"So many families couldn't celebrate Life Day. Too many." His eyes met yours, wet with fresh tears. "And how many of them are dead because of me?"

"Poe, we all know what we're signing up for when we join. We're all ready to give our lives, you know that. You can't possibly take the blame for what the First Order has done to us."

"There's blame enough for me to share, believe me," he insisted. "And I just couldn't hang anything on the tree yesterday and celebrate life. Not with over half of us gone."

Eyeing him sympathetically, you squeezed his hands. "Life Day isn't only about being alive. Death is a part of life. Life Day is also about remembering the dead. And part of living is grieving the dead, and sometimes feeling a little guilty that you're still here."

“But I don’t, though,” he admitted. “I’m glad I’m here, and more than that, I’m glad you’re here. You, most of all. You're the one person I don't wanna...that I can't..."

"Come here," you coaxed. Poe joined you on the bed but never let go of your hands. "You're my one person too, you know. The person I look for after every mission. The one person I need to be okay.

"It scared me so much yesterday when I couldn't find you," you went on.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. "Please don't hate me for yesterday. It's been a long time since I had that much to drink. I know it's no excuse for what I did."

"So you don't remember, then...what you said?" You should have known Poe would only kiss you and utter heartfelt confessions when he was wasted.

Releasing your hand, he titled your chin up to meet his gaze. "I know what I said. I do love you. Always have." A nervous, breathless laugh escaped his perfect lips. "But I understand, you know, if you don't - "

You silenced him, pressing your mouth to his for a tender kiss. "Believe me. I do."

The sadness lingering behind his eyes started to seep away, replaced by a flicker of hope. "Is there any way we could re-do yesterday?" He proposed, tracing the shape of your jaw. "I only have one meeting today."

"That sounds perfect," you agreed, leaning into his touch.

Hand in hand, you visited the Life Day tree, said the prayers, remembered those lost. Then you had something to drink with friends - just one though, before dancing and laughing all evening.

When he kissed you this time, he meant to do it, and everyone saw it. And when you walked back to his room, he asked you to stay. And you did. Every night.

1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration Masterlist

Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #life day #star wars #poevember

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kingnlionhearts · 11 months ago

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✧ exile (what a ghostly scene)

. *. ⋆ Anakin / Vader x Reader

summary: you were bail organa’s ward, raised on alderaan with your younger sister. in the twilight of the clone war, you and anakin fell in love. when the war died, it dragged you and anakin to early graves with it — leaving only darth vader behind. even after years without you, he still wants you back. and there is nothing he would not do to bring you back to him. . .

tags: angst, tragic romance, suitless vader, no y/n, gn reader, inspired by the 2020 vader comics & vader immortal, past major character death, mourning, vader needs a hug, resurrection

note: my first reader/second person fic — i’m sorry if the tense is bad ajsjwjwjqjq. i’ve had this in my drafts for soooo long and i finally decided to finish it 🫶

word count: 1k

part 1 of 4

The stars have died, fizzling out into oblivion. All that remains is a charcoal heart that once belonged to Anakin Skywalker.

The boy from Tatooine is unreachable now, trapped inside the twisted soul of Darth Vader. The galaxy’s beloved Hero With No Fear is gone. With the rise of the Empire, the Jedi and their sympathisers will be erased from memory. A clean slate to start a new era.

Three years after the creation of the Empire, Darth Vader stands alone. His tower on Mustafar is isolating; its strategic position is a constant reminder of that day. His injuries still hurt sometimes: phantom itches on his now metal legs; scars from his burns that did not fully heal. The medical droids say he is lucky — the fire could have done more serious damage, and he could have been forced to rely on a suit keeping him alive for the rest of his days. Instead, the ebony coloured mask and suit he wears are to conceal his identity. A precaution so that Anakin Skywalker can fade from people’s tongues and memory, leaving the tyranny of Darth Vader in its place.

The weight of his failures is not the heaviest burden. Darth Vader drowns in his anger and grief. He was not strong enough to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was not strong enough to save you.

(All things die. Even stars burn out.)

You were the stars in his sky, his light in the dark, the silvery moon to his blazing sun. So tender and kind. Perhaps your heart was too good for this world. Perhaps, it was your weakness all along. (How could peace ever love a dragon?)

Since you met, you had been Anakin’s sun. You anchored him; guided him home. You were his destiny. And, without you, the galaxy had turned cold. The fiery world outside, all hot air and lava fields, only stood as a reminder of his failure. He’d lost you. After everything Anakin had tried — surrendering himself to the dark side, betraying the light — he could not save you. Time had not quelled the pain.

Vader wonders if you would still recognise him. His copper hair has grown longer (he remembers how you used to cut it for him after he returned from another mission, and you’d giggle as you braided thin locks together), but his face hides behind an obsidian mask. You always loved the blue of Anakin’s eyes, but now they are blazing amber.

Mornings are the only time Vader allows himself to dwell on the past. It is when he finds himself alone and does not have to hide.

Vader recalls how you arrived on Mustafar like it was yesterday. (You haunt him every waking moment.) He could sense your conflicted emotions as soon as you disembarked your ship. Vader wasted no time approaching you, drawing you into his arms (where you belonged; where you were safe). His lips reconnected with yours, fitting together like puzzle pieces as he kissed you hungrily, his hands settled on your hips to keep you close.

You and Anakin had met after turning nineteen. He and Obi-Wan were called to Alderaan to protect the Queen and Viceroy from an assassination attempt. Being their ward, you had been there the whole time and quickly formed a connection with the young padawan — your relationship had blossomed during the Clone Wars.

He rested his forehead against yours as you spoke. “I heard terrible things. Tell me none of it is true.”

Vader hadn’t replied immediately and instead drew his head back to look at you. He would tell you any sweet lie if he needed to as he fought to quell the anger flaring in his eyes. “What have you been told?”

“Obi-Wan told me—”

Vader’s grasp around you tightened protectively. “Obi-Wan is alive?”

“He said you’d killed Jedi. Killed younglings.”

“You must not believe him, my love. He’s a traitor.”

It wasn’t the answer you sought, and you took a step backwards out of your husband’s grasp. “What have you done?”

“I did this for you. To save you.” He cupped your chin in his flesh hand and whispered your name. “I love you.”

Your eyes trained into his. There was no denial, no remorse in his stature; his only regret was letting Obi-Wan tell you anything.

He repeated his words. “I did this for you.”

From the shadows of your cloak, you drew a blaster. Only a small, weak thing. Vader watched your hands tremble. He did admire your courage. “Fix this,” you demanded. “Please,” you begged.

Anger flickered in Vader’s eyes. He had never seen you unimpressed with him. With an easy glide of his hand, Vader used the Force to knock the blaster out of your grip and pin your arms by your sides

“I am stronger than the Chancellor now,” he explained desperately, drawing you to his side. “I can overthrow him. Then you and I can be together; we can run away — just like you always wanted to.”

(But you didn’t. He lost you. Some might call you a traitor — Vader maintains that you were misguided.)

Three years later, regret still festers inside Vader’s hollow soul. There must have been a way to save you.

He misses you endlessly: craving your touch and the sound of your voice. (There is nothing Vader desires more than to have you back in his arms.)

Part of him wants to forget. To cast his memories of you into an abyss; to put the past behind him. But it is an impossible task. You are too well tangled into his soul. You haunt him. (And you’ll haunt him until his death.)

Today, there is no time to focus on you. A new morning brings meetings and training. You were Anakin’s Achilles Heel — but Darth Vader shows no such weakness. As Vader sits on his throne, reading over mission logs and other updates from the spread of the Empire across the galaxy, he receives a message: he must make his return to Coruscant immediately. (Your memory pulls him under the ocean again until he can no longer breathe.)

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin angst #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x you #darth vader #darth vader x reader #darth vader angst #darth vader fanfiction

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70sscifiart · 11 months ago

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Happy Space Crowd Saturday! Here's a host of droids, a couple of humans, and what looks like a Bigfoot, all browsing through a refurbed spaceship docking bay on Maplin's '1987 Buyer's Guide to Electronic Components' cover.

#Space Crowd Saturday #Bigfoot #Maplin #see its not just bars and nightclubs #its also capitalism

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stellarbit · 1 year ago

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Shadows of the Order

the sad batch x reader

5.5k words themes hurt and comfort

You were separated from the Batch when Order 66 was executed on Kaller. Even as a Jedi dropout you weren't safe. Left behind, you have to recover and restart in the world after the Republic. You'd hoped to never run into Clone Force 99 again, but that hope ran out one day. featuring: a b1 battle droid

You know who deserved better? The clones. You know who else? The B1 battle droids. So I stuck a clanker in here for funsies. Had a ton of fun writing this. Hope y'all enjoy a little anguish. I'll be doin a spicy one next.

You fought alongside Clone Force 99 for a long time before the Battle of Kaller. Before Order 66. After meeting the padawan, Caleb, at the rendezvous point, you’d split off from the group to assist a team of troopers on the mountain while the boys joined General Bilaba.

The troopers you encountered recognized you from your days with the 501st. Despite your repeated efforts to clarify that you were no longer a Jedi, they seemed unconvinced. Fortunately, after dispatching a group of droids, the remaining Separatist forces were routed towards the main front, allowing your group to do the same.

As you neared the midway point down you noticed the troopers falling back. Sliding to a stop in the snow, you turned back. There were about 10 of them, all standing around one holding a holocomm of a hooded figure. Half of them looked at you in sync, fixing the grip on their guns, the rest followed a heartbeat later.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Somewhere far down the mountain you heard screaming and blaster fire at the same moment the troopers turned their guns on you. You took off away from the troopers before the first shot rang out.

“Get the Jedi!” A lone trooper pierced through the chaos.

Quick thinking led you to drop a stun grenade, followed by another, as you sprinted onward. The explosions managed to incapacitate some of the troopers, but not enough. Switching your blaster to stun mode, you sought cover behind a nearby tree, emerging only to neutralize the nearest clones before a shot hit your right shoulder, propelling you into a desperate sprint away from them.

With escape and evasion as your only viable options, the Marauder seemed too distant to reach in time. Instead you aimed for a waterfall you spotted while landing. It was a slim chance, but your best hope for losing the troopers.

As you fled, you deliberately dug your fingers into the wound on your shoulder, leaving a trail of blood in your wake. It was a risky move, but if you had any hope of evading capture, they needed to track you. When you saw the water through the trees you wasted no time in ripping away your chest plate. As soon as you got to the crest of the waterfall you launched your chest plate over the edge.

With one glance over the cliff, you gritted your teeth, pressing into your injured shoulder, crouched, and lowered yourself over the ledge. You grabbed high over the ledge and drug your bloody hand back down over. One more look below to ensure a safe landing spot and let go. Relying on the Force to guide your descent into an alcove leading behind the cascading water.

Once there, you swiftly shed the remaining pieces of armor, discarding them into the rushing stream as you shifted farther into the veil of the waterfall.

When you finally heard the troopers at the cliff edge, all you could do was listen, wait, and hope they fell for it.

“Looks like she tried to scale down,” one of them remarked, his voice carrying over the sound of rushing water.

“There! In the water, I see her armor!” Another trooper's voice rang out, sending a jolt of panic through you as you desperately sought cover. Their voices dropped too low to hear before you caught the tail end of the conversation.

“Confirmed, Commander Grey. The Jedi has been neutralized. Visual confirmation obtained,” a trooper reported, the cold finality of his words chilling you.

The clone trooper paused, most likely receiving transmission. “Yes sir. Alright boys, we are to rejoin Commander Grey and head out. His forces eliminated Bilaba and Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan. Gather the stunned troops and let’s move out.” That was the last thing you heard before the troopers left.

Your heart stopped. The blood in your veins froze. You lurched for something - anything - to steady yourself on. One moment everything was normal and the next you were being gunned down by clones you risked everything for. Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.

There wasn’t enough air in the tiny alcove to think, the waterfall was too loud, the water hitting your face too cold. Desperately, you gripped the slippery rocks as your legs gave out.

Nothing made sense. Questions raced through you, each more unsettling than the last. Had all of the clones turned on the Republic? Why were they targeting Jedi specifically? Clones that served with General Bilaba for years suddenly gunned her down.

Nothing added up. If the orders affected all clones, there was a good possibility that the Bad Batch was also following them. Despite their independent streak, they were still clones, some orders had to be followed. It was a sobering realization - one that left you feeling vulnerable and nauseous. You weren’t going to be safe until they left. If they left.

The thought of aiming a weapon on the members of Clone Force 99 cracked something inside you. Besides, it was foolish to think you had a chance against all of them. With an entire army of reinforcements, attempting to take them on would be nothing short of suicidal.

Survival became your sole focus. There was no time to dwell on what went wrong or how to escape the planet's unforgiving terrain. For now, all you could do was stay hidden, biding your time until the coast was clear.

One by one, you discarded your armor and any identifiable markers into the water. It wasn’t about shedding your identity; it was a practical decision, one you could handle. Not long after, the sound of footsteps echoed from above. You pressed yourself against the rock again, your senses on high alert.

An eternity seemed to passed before the person moved. “The Jedi target was neutralized. If she’s not already dead, she’s as good as it.” It was Crosshair’s voice, cold and detached.

There was another moment of silence before you heard Tech’s voice, “Affirmative. Blood stains indicate she attempted to scale down the cliff and subsequently fell.” His tone was as clinical as ever but you almost fooled yourself into thinking there was something else to it. “Pieces of her armor are wedged in the rocks below. Crosshair is correct, if she did not perish on impact the likelihood of her survival is negligible. We need to leave.”

They weren't out there to rescue you; they were there to confirm you were dead.

It was all too much to process. Every muscle, every bone, every nerve in your body seemed to fail, leaving you a trembling mess. When the two men finally left, you didn’t know.

“We don’t leave our own behind.” You heard Hunter’s voice and heard his lie.

They left you. You fought for them, yet they hunted you down and abandoned you.

Long after night had fallen, you mustered the strength to climb out of the alcove, your injured shoulder protesting every movement. Descending into the battlefield, you searched for a salvageable ship and supplies. Amidst the wreckage, you stumbled upon the one thing you weren’t looking for.

General Bilaba’s lightsaber. She must’ve lost it in the struggle. Such a valuable thing lost to the snow and wreckage, not even retrieved. Disposable. You held the cold metal in your hand before tucking it away.

You found one ship that might manage to get off the ground. Nearby, you spotted a partially disabled battle droid, still in remarkably good condition despite its current state. It appeared to have been incapacitated by a stun grenade. As you examined it, Tech's lessons on droid maintenance flooded your mind, particularly the techniques for reprogramming them for combat purposes.

Kneeling beside the droid you flipped it onto its back to access programming. You’d pulled it off before, reprogramming battle droids to counter attack. You just never thought you’d need the skills like this.

The process was far from seamless. You electrocuted yourself on the power supply, nearly damaged a circuit board while removing the restraining bolt, and the rewiring process dragged on longer than expected, especially under the cover of darkness.

Eventually, the battle droid sprung to life, clutching its head as it sat up. You lowered yourself onto one knee as the droid adjusted itself. "Where am I?" its questioning began, its metallic voice filled with confusion. "Is the battle over? Did we win?"

Hearing the droid address you instead of immediately engaging in combat felt oddly surreal, but given the day's events, it was perhaps the least strange thing. "What is your primary directive?" you asked, trying to gauge its functionality.

It clunked a hand against its head. "Huh, that's odd. I don't seem to have one."

That was a start.

You rose to your feet and offered your hand. "In that case, how about we team up and find a way off this rock?"

Its head swiveled from side to side as it processed the proposal. "You mean, I get to choose?"

You let out a small scoff and maintained your outstretched hand. "Your options are coming with me or staying here to rust."

"Fair point," the droid responded, almost cheerfully, as it reached for your hand. "So, what's the plan for getting off this dump?"

You gestured toward the ship you hoped to salvage. "Can you handle starship repairs?"

“Sure thing, boss. Want me to clean it up?”

You threw it a puzzled look, “Why would I-” You shook your head, “No, we need to repair it enough to get it off this planet.

“Well, that doesn’t make sense.” The B1 unit pointed at the ship. “That ship doesn’t need repairs, we just crashed it.”

Maybe picking a battle droid for an assistant wasn’t the best choice. “Was it your group that crashed it?”

“Yep!” It said too proudly. “Happens all the time. But I told you, this one doesn’t need repairs to fly.” The droid paused for a second, tapping a metal digit to the tip of its face, then added. “Yet.”

That didn’t bode well for survival. You waved for it to follow you, “Let’s see if you’re right.” Over your shoulder you asked. “What can I call you?”

“My identifier is OOM-672.”

Walking amongst dozens of disabled B1 units you mused, “Looks like you’re about to be one of the last OOM models in the galaxy. So why don’t we cut that down to O2?”

“Wow!” The way it vocalized almost added syllables to the word. “Yeah, O2 sounds much better! What do I call you? Master?”

You cringed at the sound of that. “I’m not your master, O2. We’re going to have to settle with being friends or buddies.”

“You got it, Buddy!”

Thankfully, O2 was right. The ship could fly and it had enough fuel to get you far from Kaller. Enough to get you all the way to the Outer Rim if you wanted. It was risky, but following the pattern of the day, it was your only chance at survival. You just didn’t let O2 pilot.

After the rise of the Galactic Empire, you and O2 settled on a planet in the Mid Rim. You scavenged and sold enough equipment from Kaller for a comfortable amount of credits to start off with. You pieced together a new identity, often concealing your face beneath a helmet and relying on a voice modulator. Being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages.

The best way to stay hidden, you figured, was to stay in plain sight.

You wormed your way into ownership of a small inn. Although, your background as a Jedi and a soldier left you ill-prepared for running a business, and you struggled to turn a profit.

“O2!” You shouted from the lobby.

The battle droid sauntered in from the dining area. “Yes, Buddy?” The droid’s nickname for you always worked a smile out of you.

You tossed them a rusted-out metal part, which they scrambled to catch, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated. After a few failed attempts, they finally managed to grasp it securely. “The circulator for our boiler is busted. Can you head to the market and fetch a replacement? The parts dealer should have one available.”

“Roger, roger!” O2 chimed enthusiastically, ready to depart.

You yanked them by the shoulder. “O2,” You warned. “Do you remember how to pay?”

They rolled their head in an exaggerated display of weariness. “I know, I know - ‘charge it to the tab.’”

Raising an eyebrow, you waited for more. “And?”

O2 tapped a compartment on their chest, revealing a few credits inside. A result of some previous tinkering done by you. “And I have the extra credits.”

“And what’re they for?” You pressed.

“For ‘just in case.’” They replied

Stepping forward, you pushed the compartment closed. “In case of trouble, O2,” you reminded them firmly. Giving them a light knock with the back of your knuckles, you added, “Give me a call if you find yourself staring down the barrel of a blaster.”

As far as O2 was concerned, they had it easy. You rescued them from decommissioning and in return, all you asked for were simple tasks and the opportunity to tinker with their hardware. The tinkering, more often than not, turned out for the better - at least most of the time.

When you and O2 first arrived, the presence of a battle droid initially unnerved the townsfolk. However, they grew accustomed to O2's quirky demeanor. O2 was more goofy than intimidating almost by design. Plus, after a few instances of O2 causing trouble with the neighbors, they quickly learned to keep their hands off the droid. Often with a not so subtle reminder of a vibroblade at their throats.

O2 ambled through the town, exchanging waves with the occasional vendor. Stalls and shops lined the narrow, winding streets, colorful canopies providing shelter from the sun for the patrons below. Amidst the hustle and bustle, droids weaved through the crowds, delivering goods and providing services to customers.

As O2 approached the parts dealer, raised voices caught their attention. Nearby, at a fruit stand, a vendor held a pear just out of reach of a young girl. "That's not fair!" the girl protested, reaching for the fruit. "I already paid you!"

Deviating from their path, O2 made their way toward the girl. She appeared to be a young human with light hair, a visitor to the town.

"Hey, stop that!" O2 called out in their attempt at an authoritative tone. They reached the girl and bent slightly to address her. "Are you in trouble, young human?"

The girl turned to O2, visibly puzzled. After a moment of assessing the situation, she nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah," she replied, more confidently this time. "Yes. He's taking my money but insisting I still owe him more." She pointed a finger accusingly at the vendor.

O2 looked between the vendor and the little girl several times. When they finally grasped the situation, they exclaimed, “Ohh! You’re in trouble and need more credits. That’s perfect!” They poked open the compartment on their chest, revealing the credits.

The girl shook her head in disbelief. "N-no, I've already paid," she insisted, casting a disdainful glance at the vendor. "He's just trying to cheat me."

Raising a finger in a gesture of understanding, O2 interjected, "You're in trouble and these credits are for 'in case of trouble.'" They plucked out a few credits and pivoted at the hip to offer them to the vendor.

From behind the booth, the vendor's expression shifted to one of quiet annoyance, yet he begrudgingly began packing a bag with pears. "There's no trouble, O2," he retorted curtly, dropping the bag into the girl's arms. "Now, move along, kid."

The girl frowned at the man but did turn away. She looked up at O2 with a smile. “Thanks,” She pulled a curious face and stepped back from the droid for a better look. “You’re a B1 battle droid. What are you doing here?”

“I’m purchasing a new part.” O2 held up the broken circulator as proof.

She held back a smile. “No, no. I meant, weren’t all battle droids supposed to be decommissioned.” She gestured around her, “So what are you doing out here alone?”

O2 didn’t have time to respond when a man yelled, “Omega! Get away from that thing!” A male with a face tattoo shoved through the crowd and slammed the battle droid in the chest with the hilt of a blade.

“Whoa!” O2 yelled, stumbling backward into the fruit stand.

The little girl squeezed between O2 and the man. “Don’t hurt them, Hunter!” She threw her arms out to shield O2. “They were just helping !” Three other men arrived behind Hunter while O2 righted themself.

One of the men, with a socket for a hand, pushed to the front of the group and pointed his prosthetic at the droid. “Omega, you don’t know what that clanker is capable of.”

“Hey!” O2 whined in protest and shook a fist at him. “You can’t call me that!”

“Says who?” Growled the largest man of the group.

“Says my buddy!” O2 started reaching for its head to send out a comm when the fruit vendor grabbed his hand.

“O2!” He laughed nervously and patted the droid harshly, “There’s no trouble.” The vendor pointed a finger at the men. “I’m not dealing with their friend today, so move out.”

“Friend?” The big guy repeated incredulously.

The cyborg hovered his hand over the blaster at his hip. “Where’s your master, droid?”

O2 thrusted their head in a sassy manner, “I don’t have a master.”

Hunter moved Omega to the side and put his knife just below O2’s head. “Why don’t you take us to this friend of yours?”

“That depends.” O2 said skeptically. “Are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter passed a look to the men behind him. “An inn?”

“Only customers can come to the inn. So - are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter lowered the knife and jerked his head to say ‘get going’, “Sure thing. Now, let’s go.”

“Roger, roger.” The droid said with a little salute and then tapped his fingers to the tip of his face. “Say, do I know you guys?

“Move it, clanker.” The cyborg ordered again.

Back at the inn, you waited in the lobby reading through bank statements. The front door was open to the street, allowing you to hear O2’s distinctive footsteps approaching. You pushed away from and around the desk to greet them. “That may have been your fastest run yet. How much - oh!” You stopped mid sentence when a young girl trailed in behind the droid. Behind your headgear you smiled, “Did you make a friend?”

The little blonde waved up at you, “Hello.”

A dent in O2’s chest plate caught your eye. You motioned for the droid. “O2, what did you do to your chest plate?”

“Well, I didn’t do it.” The droid sassed, but moved forward and leaned down for you to inspect. You reached up, held their head, and moved it side to side for inspection. Other than the dent they were fine. You patted their face in relief when, from the corner of your eye four figures filed in.

You went stock-still at the sound of a familiar voice, Hunter’s voice. “You own this clanker?”

This was it. This was the day you died.

Giving O2 one last pat, you turned to face the Bad Batch standing in your doorway, as formidable as ever. Hunter led the group, with Echo on his left, Tech on his right, and Wrecker flanking Echo. Crosshair was conspicuously absent. Their mismatched armor was newly painted in vibrant colors.

Silently assessing them, you took a moment to compose yourself, shoving your fear and anger as deep as you could. Their demeanor said they didn't recognize you and you needed them gone before they did.

"Sure," you replied vaguely, your voice muffled by the voice modulator. Keeping your gaze fixed on the clones, you instructed O2, "O2, grab my satchels from the back." Without hesitation, the droid complied.

"What are you doing with a separatist battle droid?" Echo's voice bristled as he stepped forward. "Do you realize how dangerous that thing is?"

Images of Echo tending to your wounds flooded in, abruptly interrupted by the recollection of red blaster shots narrowly missing your head.

"OOM-672 has been reprogrammed," you replied, waving your hand dismissively. "They no longer pose a threat and wartime objectives have been nullified."

"Incorrect," Tech said as he tapped the side of his helmet to move his visor. "If the droid's reprogramming is faulty, it could revert to its original directives at any moment. Depending on the data stored in its memory, that could prove dangerous should it fall into the wrong hands." He advanced toward O2, pointing a finger. "Allow me to examine it—"

“Their programming is fine.” You instinctively took a step back, bumping into O2 with the bags you requested. One had spare credits for bribing them out of your parlor and, in case that didn’t work, the other contained a blaster and Bilaba’s lightsaber.

As you sorted through the first bag for credits, you spat, “No one lays a hand on the droid except me. Especially not a bunch of clones." With a flick of your wrist, you tossed a handful of credits at Hunter. "Now get out of my lobby.” You made the mistake of addressing them as clones and hoped the odd comment passed over them. They obviously didn’t look like other clones to the untrained eye.

"Oh!" O2's voice chimed in recognition, but you swiftly raised a hand to silence the droid.

“Do we look like we work for the Empire?” Wrecker asked, almost growled, with hands on Omega’s shoulders.

Hunter glanced at the credits before tossing them back. “Just let us look at the droid,” he urged.

Without missing a beat you caught the credits, brandished the blaster, and aimed it at the leader. Immediately, the other brothers aimed their blasters at you. "Got a malfunction in those helmets?" You gestured toward the exit with your weapon. "I said leave. No stranger gets their hands on my droid."

“Strangers?” O2 stepped to your side and pointed at the group of clones. “They’re not strangers. We know them.”

Your blaster dipped for a moment, frustration nipping at you before you firmed up your grip. “O2, knowing someone for five minutes doesn’t mean you know them.”

“Just calm down.” Hunter said slowly.

“Five minutes?” The battle droid shook their head in confusion. “We go waaay back.” They hummed a thoughtful sound. “Although they did stun me on Kaller.” A chill gripped your spine at the mention of Kaller.

"Kaller?" Omega's gaze flitted between the men around her. "Where's that?" The rustle of shifting armor filled the lobby as the four men exchanged glances, their blasters trained still on you.

“Who are you and how did you get that droid?” Echo's voice carried a forceful edge as he pushed you.

“Get out.” You repeated with more venom. “Clones follow orders. That’s an order.”

Hunter slowly raised his hands, removing his helmet and revealing his tattooed face. The sight of him made it hard to breathe through.

"We're not with the Empire," Hunter declared. "And we're not big on following orders, either."

"Liar!" Your scream reverberated through the room, the voice modulator straining against your volume. Something flickered in Hunter's expression.

For someone with no skin in the war, you were proving to be awfully reactive.

"Hunter," Tech intervened firmly, prompting you to swing your blaster in his direction. "Look at that blaster." You glanced down at your weapon, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

“What about it, Tech?” Hunter asked.

“That blaster has nonstandard modifications. Only five like it exist.” Tech explained, his tone serious.

“Not the time to be admiring blasters.” Echo snapped.

“The issue is,” Tech shot an annoyed look at his brother. “They are my modifications.” His grip relaxed slightly. “We have four of them and the other was - ”

You fired a shot at Tech before he could finish and attempted to fire another when Hunter lunged at you. He knocked the blaster from your hand and swung for your head. Wrecker shoved the kid behind him while you and Hunter exchanged blows, his hitting much harder than you remembered.

You saw Tech activating a stun grenade as O2 reached for your blaster. Yanking a vibroblade from your hip, you rammed the hilt of it into the side of Hunter’s head, causing him to stumble back. Swiftly, you lurched in the way of the stun grenade, intercepted it, and threw as far as you could behind you.

Echo took no time in disarming and disabling O2 while Hunter regained his senses and grabbed for you. His touch was a breath away when you thrust out your hands and blew him back with the Force. Before Hunter could register what happened, Wrecker grabbed you by the neck, and yanked you from the ground.

You clawed at his hand but couldn’t stop the giant crushing your windpipe and ripping off your headgear.

Seeing your bare face, livid and unable to breathe, shook Wrecker and gave you the chance to slam your feet into his stomach. He dropped you to the ground where you writhed and gasped for air. Your dropped blaster was nowhere in sight, but the other satchel was.

Still retching for air, you threw a hand out and the lightsaber flew to you. Green light blasted out of the hilt, parallel to the ground and putting a thrumming barrier between you and the clones.

“A Jedi?” Omega said in wonder, poking her head around Wrecker. Wrecker, notably, didn’t push her back behind him.

They all lowered their weapons and Tech, Echo, and Wrecker removed their helmets. Different shades of shock on all of them. “Sarad?” Tech spoke softly.

“Stay away from me.” You growled from the ground. Slowly, you repositioned yourself, strengthening your stance to pounce or run.

“We thought you were-”

“Dead?” You cut Wrecker off and cut a look at Tech. “Guess you aren’t as thorough as you think.” At that, Tech’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“We didn’t follow that order.” Hunter interjected.

“Liar!” You lashed out. “I heard the troopers. ‘Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.’”

Hunter started lowering himself to your eye level. “We let him escape.”

Echo stepped forward, his eyes avoiding yours. “We thought you were dead,” he admitted. He closed his eyes for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. “We thought the other troopers got to you, but we came looking for you as soon as we could.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, in your eyes the only thing they deserved were holes through their chests.

Out of all of them, Tech stood the straightest, his demeanor showing no sign of shame in their handling of the situation. Still, he thought carefully on how to say what he needed, his hands clenching and unclenching as he processed it.

When he locked eyes with you, it was clear he’d considered his words meticulously, repeating the process in his mind multiple times before coming to the same conclusion

“With your blood and broken armor, there were two plausible outcomes,” he began, counting them out with his fingers. “First, that you perished either by the troopers or the falls. The second, that you…” His gaze momentarily shifted away, seeing your armor in the rocks. “... that you escaped.” Returning his gaze to yours, he continued, “In both scenarios, our intervention would have only made things worse. And Crosshair-”

You jumped to your feet in a challenge, Hunter quickly positioning himself between you and the others. “I don’t believe you,” you hissed, swinging the saber to the side before snapping it back in front of you. “So finish what you started.”

Hunter maintained his steady gaze as his brothers holstered their blasters. “We won’t fight you,” he assured, his tone resolute. Your eyes darted between them, searching for any sign of aggression. Seconds stretched on but the men held their ground.

“He’s telling the truth,” Omega whispered, joining Hunter at his side. "All clones were programmed to follow that order." She cast a meaningful glance at the men surrounding her. "But their altered states made them immune to the order."

For months, anger had been your constant companion, fueling you through each passing rotation. Anger at the Jedi Purge, at the failures of the Republic, and most of all, the seething rage at the Bad Batch for leaving you behind to bear the weight of it all alone. Months of grief and pain don’t just disappear.

The room seemed to warp and blur around you, your grip on the saber beginning to falter. Clinging to it tightly, you gritted your teeth, fighting to maintain your composure. The world snapped back into focus when tears finally breached your resolve, slipping down your cheeks unchecked.

“Then….” your arm dipped before falling limply at your side. “You left me for dead.” Your voice cracked and the words came out in a sob. “You left me behind.”

You thought the pain of them hunting you was the worst thing you could experience. The realization of abandonment was worse. A tight knot formed in your stomach, threatening to make you sick.

Driven by months of simmering anger, you shook your head through your tears. , “I survived without you, and I’ll keep surviving without you.” You let the green light of the saber fade. “So just leave.” The last words came out less like the command you wanted it to be and more like plea.

Wrecker ‘s eyes went wide, “You think after all this time,” he gestured toward you, “when we just got you back, we’d just leave?” A defiant look passed over him. “Sorry, not happening.”

“Sarad,” Tech spoke like it was just the two of you. YoYou closed your eyes briefly, savoring the familiarity of his tone. For a moment, you thought they might all disappear, as if they were never there. “Leaving you was a choice we never wanted to make. But it was the choice that led us here and ensured your survival. Keeping you alive was more important than keeping you by our sides.” He nodded, standing firm in his choices. “Your survival was the only acceptable outcome.”

The lightsaber grew heavy in your hand.

Wrecker reached out with a pleading gesture. "The regs would've— we couldn't..." He faltered, searching for the right words, but Omega touched his forearm and urged him forward.

Wrecker stepped through his brothers and although you flinched like you might run he reached out and touched your face. First with one hand and then a second when you tried to turn away. Holding you like that, seeing you safe in his hands, made it hard for Wrecker to ever imagine letting go.

Tears continued to flow down your cheeks, falling over his hands. Wrecker swept them away with his thumbs before pulling you into his arms. "Sorry, Sarad. We're sorry."

Your hands hovered on either side of you, it was the first time you’d truly touched another organic lifeform since Kaller. The lightsaber hit the ground and you fell into Wrecker.

You’d let yourself feel angry at them all those months alone, but, in an instant, it was overshadowed by the grief of having been without them.

Pulling just out of Wrecker’s embrace you rubbed away the remaining tears. “I’ve missed you.”

“We missed you too.” Echo answered for the group.

Looking between them all, you felt like the world was a little safer. There were a few things standing out to you though. First being the little girl with them and Crosshair’s absence.

Immediately reading you, Hunter touched Omega’s shoulder. “A lot has changed.”

"I can see that," the girl smiled warmly at you, her expression oddly familiar despite never having met before.

Tech breezed past you, heading straight for O2. He knelt beside the droid, adjusting his goggles before turning to you. "So, you really salvaged this droid from Kaller?" You affirmed with a nod, prompting a look of mild disturbance from Tech. "And it's proven to be useful?" Another nod from you. "Well, that's just as surprising as your survival," he remarked, his tone tinged with genuine curiosity.

"Be kind to O2," you interjected, joining Tech by O2's side to rouse the droid. "They're my friend."

Echo scratched the back of his head, a sheepish expression crossing his features. "That's... going to take some getting used to."

Omega joined you and Tech, her eyes wide with fascination as Tech began to point out various features of the battle droid. A smile tugged at your lips as you watched the interaction unfold. The inn you had purchased never truly felt like home, much like Coruscant and the Jedi Order before it.

But here, amidst the Bad Batch, you finally felt a sense of belonging. You were home.

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