#its so rare to see works which surround her that focus on rage and vengeance and hate and hurt rather just the solemn and “noble” tragedy

[charrfie]

Read Laika No Hoshi and sobbed my fucking eyes out

[libradusk]

5 For Fives | (1)

Chapter Title: The Weight of Duty

Word Count: 3,944

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader

Summary: Even though he shared the same face with over a thousand brothers, you always thought that his smile shone the brightest across the galaxy.

warnings: chapter has mentions of injury but nothing super heavy, yet.

a/n: First meetings aren’t always glamorous, also sir is used as a gender neutral term. 

Chapter 2

It should have been no more than another routine inspection - another tour around one of the Republic’s numerous military bases, carried out with bordering identical technique and protocol to the countless others you had been allocated to shadow previously. Simple, painless, easy - especially considering you had been working alongside Captain Rex and Commander Cody for quite some time now and were no stranger to the tight ship they ran between them.

Initially you had considered the Rishi Moon inspection no differently to how you had its predecessors. It had been difficult to view it as more than just another extension of your duties to the Republic war effort. This form of assignment had long since devolved into an almost mundane routine, shoehorned between battles and skirmishes that required the more physical side of your prowess. You couldn’t deny that the visits were far from an unwelcome task, in an odd way they added a sense of rare sereneness to your list of duties as the war raged on. The men you encountered were always in good spirits after receiving praise for their contributions towards keeping the war effort running smoothly. This was especially true for the newer additions to each post, who practically glowed when Cody so much as looked in their direction - and struggled not to pout like scolded younglings whenever Rex pointed out the sloppiness of their barracks. More than anything though, seeing the men at each destination settled into their own close-knit brotherhoods formed a warm contrast to the overly sterilised and bordering artificial atmosphere you had come to witness on Kamino whenever your presence was required by Master Shaak Ti.

You had suspected that your attendance had never been truly needed from the start, so to say. The combined experience and respect both Rex and Cody possessed was ample - they certainly had no real need for a Jedi to oversee them evaluate the competence of their own men. Yet they never showed any sign of protest - and neither did you, outwardly at least. The two soldiers were pleasant enough company, as were the numerous waves of their brothers-in-arms that you had encountered at each stop the starship deposited you at. It had reached the point that the more months that passed by with the war, the more familiar faces you came to recognise the sight, and the absence of during your rarer return visits.

The latter of which was quickly becoming an all too common occurrence as the Separatists continued to grow stronger still and the numbers of casualties rose accordingly.

It was a fact that did little to ease the gnawing sense of guilt that had been bubbling towards the forefront of your mind with a vengeance as of late. Though you understood the importance that the inspections held, the thought that your own attributes as a Jedi would be better served fighting alongside these men - as you had many times before, had begun to rear its head with vicious frequency. As the cycles ticked by your mind had become almost overwhelmed with the sheer number of casualties and missing men you had to report back to Shaak Ti on Kamino each time. You had known how overworked your Jedi senior had become as of late, her involvement with the Kaminoans forcibly entwining closer each cycle - regardless of the outcome of each battle the Republic were faced with. Your kinship with the Togruta, as well as your longstanding dedication to the order and cause had always ensured your cooperation with whatever task you were designated. It was important to you to attempt to ease the workload of your closest peer in whatever way you could. Yet despite this, the longer you had spent within the frontlines of the army, the more you had learnt the multitude of ways that distinguished each clone from every one of his brothers - it had all affected you so deeply that it had become difficult for you to set eyes on an optimistic young rookie and to not automatically think of how the Kaminoans, and the majority of the Republic, saw them more as munitions than living men.

The thought of how the production of the army had swollen to accommodate the demands of the war now turned your stomach and the knowledge that you were due to return to Kamino in the coming few months only aided in forcing the bile further up your throat.

Cody appeared to have picked up on the spike in your uneasiness as you had boarded the Obex that afternoon. He had offered you a tight smile and the reassurance that your visit to Rishi Station would be both short and painless given the size of the base and the tranquility of its barren landscape. Rex had even chimed in to joke that the most action any of the troops ever encountered on Rishi was if one of its native fauna, the giant Rishi Eel, somehow found its way past the blast doors.

How wrong they had both turned out to be.

The atmosphere on the station when you finally disembarked on the moon’s surface had felt unbalanced, insidious even. You had held firm suspicion that there was more at play than simply the assigned troopers being “sloppy,” as Rex had so eloquently put it. The bizarre holocomm interaction a very apprehensive trooper had established while the three of you were in orbit had already made you uneasy. Even when your feet touched the ground of the Republic property you couldn’t shake the warning surge of adrenaline that had you reaching for your saber as you fell into line behind the two troopers.

Your suspicions were all but confirmed the moment the “deck officer” had stumbled disjointedly towards your group, with a pattern of speech that matched the jagged movements of his limbs. As soon as that red flare had cut its way through the navy curtain of sky above you the eerie atmosphere appeared to ignite alongside it. No sooner had Rex shot down the droid that was masquerading as one of your own did the three of you find yourself surrounded on all sides by Separatist commando droids.

You initially managed to hold your own on the small landing platform - noting between deflecting shots that their blaster comprehension and protective armour easily trumped that of an average battle droid. Despite your perceived competence however, you failed to heed Cody’s cry for you to take cover as you lifted a hand to force push an advancing flock of drones over the edge of the platform. This slip up earned you a vibrosword cleaved through the shoulder of your dominant arm, courtesy of a particularly unrelenting commando who had already withstood several shots of the commander’s blaster to ambush you from behind. The resulting blow from its blade was mercifully weakened enough to not sever the joint too deeply, but it ended up being enough to force you to drop your stance and almost your lightsaber in response. You shudder to think what may have become of you had Rex not made the tactical decision to grab your withering form and hurtle you both off the edge of the platform. You can recall the heat of an explosion rippling through the air as Rex had lowered you both to the ground with the aid of his ascension cable, the wreckage of the Obex scattering like meteorites around you as he did so - glittering in the starlight alongside the droplets of blood that trickled from your shoulder.

It was as you had watched them break from your flesh and fall that your thoughts had twisted in dark amusement despite the searing pain stippling across your upper body. Your unspoken wish to provide more hands-on support to the troopers had finally been granted once more - just not in the way you had expected.

And then you had met them. Or rather you had stood back and weakly protested as your comrade had pointed his blaster at the three bewildered men that had stumbled into the canyon space before you. One by one they had scrambled to remove their helmets at Rex’s command, revealing three almost identical faces. Cody’s body had obstructed most of your view as he attended to your injury, but even with the threat that the blood loss posed to your focus, you had easily deduced that these men were not primed for the type of combat you yourselves had barely just escaped. Rex seemed to have echoed your sentiment, as you had practically felt him smirk through the visor of his helmet at the way the rookies visibly flinched once the maws of a Rishi eel broke through the tension of the scene seconds later. The captain had made quick work of the beast, shooting it dead with flawless accuracy - face never wandering from the group of clones that stood before him. You had felt Cody’s body vibrate with a ghost of a chuckle at the way the men all but fawned over Rex’s prowess with a blaster.

Whatever serenity that had established itself was quickly shattered not long after both your groups had introduced themselves. You discovered that this “batch of shinies” was in fact the only surviving remnants of Rishi’s defence: leaving you all hopelessly outnumbered with no transport, limited weapons and medical supplies as well as a shoulder so badly injured that you were barely able to scale back up the cliffside without threatening to tear it open further - nevermind wield a saber optimally.

Eventually the six of you managed to make it back to the main control room through a tumultuous mixture of force and trickery that would have put a Jedi mind trick to shame - it had become apparent to both you and Cody then, that Anakin’s unconventional style of doing things had rubbed off on Rex more than the captain would ever admit aloud.

What small victory you had acquired however was soon dashed as you were called towards the control room’s viewing port. Staring back at you then through the murkiness of space had been an entire Separatist fleet, armed to the teeth and advancing on your location - no doubt in search of the missing signal from the battle droids you had slain prior.

A seed of doubt had planted itself within the depths of your brain at that moment, cultured with the knowledge that even an experienced Jedi knight stood little chance outnumbered by an entire fleet of commando droids likely spearheaded by Grievous himself.

And yet somehow your unlikely group had persevered.

Despite the odds being so heavily skewed against you, the resulting conclusion to the Battle of the Rishi Moon had trumped over whatever chaos the six of you had experienced at its beginning. Though you had ultimately ensured victory for the Republic by denying the Separatist invasion, your victory had nonetheless branded itself a costly one.

Fresh, hot guilt seared through you from the moment you were hauled aboard the Resolute by General Skywalker. It had been a narrow escape for you in particular, having previously resigned yourself to expending what little strength you had left on reinforcing the blast doors shut with the force while the boys attempted to set up an explosion to extinguish the threat of the droid fleet. It had been thanks to the bravery of one clone in particular - Hevy - the most rambunctious of the rookie trio, who had insisted for you all to abandon your post while he bought you the time you needed to escape.

His sacrifice had been the only thing that had ensured the rest of you had time to navigate through the station’s vent system to where your rescue had finally emerged to liberate you from the doomed outpost.

It was the type of guilt you knew would remain branded on your conscience long after the scorch marks had healed over your flesh.

------

Your skin itched as you marched through the corridors of the Resolute, thoughts buzzing so loudly in your mind you were certain you could feel them echo within your bones. You had seen men die in battle countless times before today, yet there was something particularly bitter about this incident that struck you deeper with each step you made towards the medical wing. Five rookie troopers and their sergeant had died attempting to warn you and defend a base that had been left to burn alongside their bodies. Five inexperienced soldiers whose remains were left to char and mangle alongside those of the same droids who had murdered them.

Five men whose lives had been snuffed out of existence just as they were so close to being reunited with their brothers on the frontlines - who were so close to tasting what little opportunity they would have to breathe air that wasn’t as cold and sterile as that on Kamino and Rishi.

But through it all, the thought that cut the deepest was that you knew the lives and sacrifice of these men were no more than an afterthought to the Republic and their kaminoan creators. You had simmered with that knowledge aboard the Resolute climbed upwards and away from Rishi Station, watching with a heavy heart as the outpost shrunk to a burning flicker along with the bodies of its protectors.

Your blood threatened to boil over as you had all but spat your report to Obi Wan and Anakin before the generals had kindly dismissed you to go and treat your wounds. You knew that they felt it too, perhaps for them it was hidden beneath the layers of unfaltering loyalty they held towards the Republic, but it was a bitterness that lived in both of them as well. Their faces spoke where their words did not reach you.

“These men were brave - they were born to be. Their deaths will never be in vain while the Republic still stands. They have done their greatest duty.”

These same words, uttered countless times by more figureheads than you cared to remember, were beginning to ring hollow to you now - more so than ever before. They all but slipped from you in searing strips across your flesh, pulsing in time with the blood that dribbled down your shoulder.

“You should really slap a bacta-patch on that wound, General.”

A familiarly accented voice pulled you from your thoughts. It was as though its owner had obstructed the trajectory of your march with his entire body, forcing your pace to slow as you approached the only other person in the narrow walkway. Your eyes climbed to reach his own from the floor-bound position you hadn’t even realised they had fallen to.

A clone stood to attention before you with a tight-lipped smile, his gaze flinching from your shoulder to your face in time with your movements. It took a moment for you to fight through a sudden wave of lightheadedness that protested across your vision at the abrupt movement, but you soon came to recognise him as one of the surviving rookie soldiers that had escaped alongside you.

His tone was distinctly shaken, but undeniably charismatic - almost oddly casual by clone standards.He spoke to you like you were an old friend, not a Jedi knight that he’d met and battled beside for the first and almost last time in his military career. It struck you as bizarre considering the horrors he had just experienced not even a full day beforehand.

You zoned out as the memories resurfaced. It granted him enough time to lean forward and offer you a friendly pat on your good shoulder. His breathy chuckle whipped through your ears as the contact twisted your body to a sharp halt, the nerves still buzzing even after he retracted the offending hand away with a start.

“I am not your General.”

You winced as at the sharpness of your tone, the words oozing with a venom that seemed alien to you. The shock quickly made way for another flood of shame as you watched him visibly flinch with surprise at your outburst. You knew you had no right to speak so cruelly to a fellow soldier, especially one that had just risked his own life to ensure you kept your own.

The feeling only swelled more in the silence that forced its way between your bodies as he composed himself and stood back to the attention of your tired gaze. A drawn out sigh of frustration left your lips as you mumbled an apology. Your good arm raised slowly to press its shaky digits against your temple in a futile attempt to quell the stress migraine that was knotting itself there. Since when had the ship’s lights seemed so bright that they burned you? The ache behind your eyes almost rivalled the throb of your shoulder at this point.

You squinted through the pain in an attempt to regard the trooper properly. His armour shone a sharp white as he fidgeted under the corridor’s lighting. The plastoid surface was devoid of any severe marring or decoration that you had seen numerous times on his brothers’ uniform. What grime and blaster residue did litter its surface appeared fresh and smeared, as if he had attempted to haphazardly wipe it away with the palms of his gloves in a hurry. The red ribbon of the medal signifying his recent admittance to the 501st battalion served as the only smattering of colour across the entire ensemble. Its medallion hung heavy on his chest piece, the metallic surface reflecting almost painfully in the artificial light. You were grateful to tear your eyes away from it. Instead you pulled your gaze upwards across the plains of his face, stopping once you connected with an all too familiar pair of brown eyes once more. He blinked back owlishly at you, head tilting involuntarily under your scrutiny.

Underneath the dark hairline of his crew cut sat a freshly inked tattoo of the number five, the skin around it still reddened and peeling in places. Everything about him seemed younger than the majority of the other clones you had encountered before, and it all served to twist the blade of guilt further into your stomach. CT-5555, Fives, your assumption had been correct - he was indeed one of the “shinies” that had assisted you, Rex and Cody against the Separatists targeting the Rishi Moon. The same rookie who’s first taste of real battle had resulted in the deaths of all but one of his squadmates.

The guilt twisted deeper still - now it was your turn to flinch like a wounded animal as you curled into yourself inwardly.

“Fives, I’m sorry. I had no right to speak to you like that,” you punctuated your sentence with a sigh, head bowing in apology to the wide-eyed soldier. He deserved more from you than a half-mumbled apology, “No doubt you have even more on your mind than I do after all this.”

To your surprise, the corner of his lips flickered with a playful smirk for just a moment before it pulled back once more into the composed expression befitting of a soldier. He practically buzzed with unspoken energy and you could feel the mirth blossom in his gaze as his eyes flickered between your own, posture visibly relaxing as he did.

“No hard feelings, uh, sir.”

There's still a sense of uncertainty as he addresses you, but the surprising enthusiasm with which he salutes you is somehow able to coax the wisp of a smile from you too. It's almost endearing really and you aren't completely sure how to feel about it.

“At ease, Fives. You’ve more than earned it after today.”

He grins openly then and your eyes draw to the shadow of stubble that peppers his jaw, signifying the beginnings of a beard. A reminder of his individuality, you think. Distracted, you absent-mindedly move to cross your arms until a sharp flash of pain from your shoulder reminds you that there is more to your injury than just a dull ache.

Fives’ grin falls as you cringe, hand quickly extending to brush against your forearm for a moment in concern. The warmth of his gloved fingers barely skims against you before his military protocol seems to beat him back into place this time. Fives bites back a curse as ungraciously stumbles over his own feet with the effort. His failed attempt to save his graces is so comical that you can’t help but chuckle over the sight of him. You’re not entirely sure if the blood loss has caught back up with you, or if it's just because of how animated he is - but somehow he had effortlessly become the only thing to pull a laugh from you in weeks.

The expression he shoots you when you stand back to full height is nothing less than perplexed. You can’t blame him for his bewilderment - after all you were supposed to be a Jedi Knight, a high-ranking member of the military and representative of an ancient order renowned for their serene temperament. Yet here you stood, having snapped between scolding him to laughing at him in mere minutes as you bled out onto the metal floor at your feet.

“Um, should I accompany you to the medbay, sir?” he cocks an eyebrow at you as he speaks, and you’re sure you catch the way his lips fight against the curve of a smirk once more.

A nervous habit? Or did he simply peg you as an amusing fool with overly turbulent emotions? The shake of your head answers his question, yet the smile refuses to slip from your face.

“I’m sure I’ll survive on my own. I’m positive it's nothing so serious that slapping a bacta-patch on won't fix it.”

He tilts his head with a smile as you echo his earlier sentiment, exhaling from his nose and allowing his posture to ease just slightly. It is at that moment you know everything is right between you once more. Content, you offer him a short bow of your head before turning to resume your march towards the medical bay. You continue to feel his gaze on you even as your back is turned, and you tilt slightly to catch his eye again, taking care to support your injured shoulder with your spare hand now.

“...Fives?” your tone is a tad more playful than you intend as your words are thrown across the corridor - you mentally blame his aura as being far too infectious to your weakened state,

“I hope our paths cross again now that you’ve been made part of the 501st. I’ll be watching out for you, you’re interesting.”

The last part slips out before you can halt it, but the way his smile flashes so dazzlingly under those horrible bright lights reassures you that your comment was most definitely well received.

He shoots you another eager salute and his medal clatters noisily to the ground as his arm catches it with the motion. This time the laughter that leaves you is so heavy that you’re positive it can be heard from the other side of the ship. Your bad shoulder protests with the force of it, but it just feels so good to laugh again after so many miserable months of war that you can’t bring yourself to care.

You steal another glance backwards before rounding the corner, catching his eyes one last time despite the distance. He throws you another cheeky smirk, teeth still peeking out from behind his lips as he bends to retrieve the offending medal - and as he raises a hand in a lazy wave you’re sure he flashes you a wink.

“I’ll hold you to that, sir.”