#she also has a protocol droid but she stays in the ship

[starwarskit]

Older Clone! One who’s escaped the empire and now is a PIRATE! (But a good kid of pirate, she only kills every so often)

Her name is Jane, but her Pirate name (she’s a nerd) is Doe

[twilightofthe]

gonna put my random liveblog reactions for Ahsoka Ep 1 here

okay so the rebels fam are literally some of my favorite star wars characters i've loved and missed them since 2018 and if anything this show will give me them

i am going with zero expectations except a plea, a plea to just not make me hate it lmao idc what happens just let me have fun

just press the start button coward ass come ON

okay i'm startiiiing Now!

oooh they didn't name it interesting

kk cool drums that's neat we like that

whoa was that sabine's helmet in the intro????

OPENING TITLE SCROLL?????

WE REALLY LIKE THAT????????

y'all the new republic's about as stable as a human jenga tower don't u have anything better to do than find thrawn i'm p sure even the imperials didn't like him THAT much they were xenophobes

former jedi knight? HMMMM

why is it always a secret map

also appreciating the OG "let's open up on big ass ship in space" makes you feel small

ok have i heard this new republic(?) captain actor before he seems familiar

bitch literally anyone could have an old jedi clearance code clearance codes were passed around like

yeah he doesn't trust it either

but i feel like he's actually dickish and we're not supposed to like him so

ah yes rebel soldiers and their stupid-ass egg helmets

wait old white bearded guy you ain't obi wan you AIN'T a jedi

his voice sounds familiar too

i have such face blindness lmao

oh whoops that's a darkside saber his friend has!

she kinda looks like Merrin from JFO

Eh probs some kinda Nightsister of sorts

I'm guessing he's some Inquisitor who got forgotten

Hmm we really paralleling ANH with darkside guy slaughtering all the egghelmet guys on a ship xD

Ok his name is Baylan

And hers is Morgan and the intro crawl mentioned her but my memory is shit so I don't quite remember what she was about except vague Thrawn-related reasons

ooooh name drop!

aaaaaAAAAA RIGHT IN THE EMOTIONS NOOO NO THE AHSOKA AND ANAKIN LEITMOTIFF TWILIGHT OF THE APPRENTICE THEME

ok i'm good lol

ohh wait so there IS a title

master and apprentice

alas it seems like the thing i didn't want is gonna happen but we are staying OPEN MINDED we are going to SEE

ok lots of tall pillars in what looks like another fuckin desert lmao

ey there's Snips

something on the ground? That kinda looks Sith-ish but also I have like no clue

hmm did they kinda fix her montrals or not i can't tell

Ehhhhh slightly

eyyyy wait are those the world-between-worlds lines

the statues kinda look like nightsisters but also like old sith statues

mmm caress the whispering pillar

ok indiana jones time to get your ass out of there before the booby trap

what am i saying she's anakin and obi wan's spawn she LIKES this shit

oh hey she made something happen

i feel like all of these pillars should have been turned at once

the force likes teamwork and that kinda thing

but it also kinda echoes maul and ezra's little teamwork exercise lifting those walls in the sith temple that one time

ope she found something

guessing it's the Magic Maul Map

ooh it's one of those bakugon balls or whatever they were we played with as a kid i had one that turned into a dragon

H U Y A N G

SHOW ME MY ROBOBITCH

armor person hello

what's the mask that's not a mando is it

nah i don't think it is

nah

is it a person in armor or a droid i can't tell

oh subs say droids they're droids

you poor bastards curbstomping droids was her high school internship job she is WAY more qualified than you

wasn't quite expecting ahsoka to play whackamole but good for her that sounds fun

oh hell yeah we stan the droids that self destruct xD

waiiiit yeah i forgot she had a B-wing they're cool!

STILL LOVE ME HUYANG

ahsoka there was NO way you didn't wait till the last moment to jump away from that explosion except to be dramatic

"the order doesn't exist anymore" you shush missy we KNOW you know who luke is he's trying his best

ahsoka lbr do you even know what standard jedi protocol is

Fulcruuuuum

DAMN FUCKING RIGHT HUYANG IS FULCRUM HE DESERVES IT

also he looks so good in live action i forgot to mention that!!!!! <3

"T-6" girl u need to name your SHIP anakin would be APPALLED

well if that's the same ship with the darksiders on at least

h3ERA

HERA

HERA HERA HERA

HERA MY BELOVED

wHERES CHOPPER

WHERES CJASON JACEN WHATEVERTHE FUCK

H E RA

oh right this is mary elizabeth winstead oh boy i hope she does well!

i wonder if ewan was there

aNYWAY HERA

ok unpausing sorry had a Moment

General

Ok so the voices aren't quite matching but we'll see

ooooh hera has a patch on her jacket let's go back to that later

"abilities like you" hera kanan told you what darksiders were like inquisitors tried to kill y'all

she has sabines firebird on her jacket

don't mention thrawn around hera she'll just think of ezra ;_;

oh so morgan was thrawn's

EZRA NAME MENTION

GONNA DIE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

ok this is nothing on mary's performance she's doing fine but hera's dialogue doesn't quiiiite seem her? we'll see

oh yeah and rosario's doing better this time more natural

IT’S LOTHAL LOTHAL LIVE ACTION LOTHAAAAAAAAL

ITS BEAUTIFUL SO SO BEAUTIFUL

wait who's speaking

THEY SAID EZRA AGAI

THAT'S FUCKING RYDER

RYDER AZADI HELLO YOU WONDERFUL BASTARD YOU LOOK GREAT

Hi Clancy Brown good to see you do you know you have an evil Devaronian twin who's running around bothering Din Djarin as we speak

well at least sabine still hates politics

my dude ryder you know her tf did she say to make you think she was coming at all lol

WAIT JAI

JAI KELL HELLO EZRA'S EX BOYFRIEND

YOU'RE SO HANDSOME MY BOY ALL GROWN UP WONDERFUL

wait ryderrrr c'mon don't be a dick again you were so well

OH HELLO GWEN STACY SPIDERVERSE VIBES

not quiiiiite liking how sabine grew her gay haircut out in this but still digging the bike fit

also hello Natasha good luck pls treat my dear well i love her greatly!!!

hmmm not sure how much i like other non-OG ghost crew giving themselves Spectre callsigns yes i AM being gatekeepy fuck off

good sabine is running from authorities we do love that

hey her voice kinda matches that's great!

oh i'm liking her acting already

i think

SHE HAS A LOTH CAT ON HER HELMET

that's my GIRL

also it's very interesting how the pilots call each other by their spectre callsigns but address sabine--an ORIGINAL spectre--exclusively by name

lothkitty LOTHCAT

LITHCAT WITH THE FOOOOOFYTAIL AND LITTLE SPINDLE LEGS

im gonna DIE

it's so cute i can't even

also getting Emotions(TM) at ezra's old tower

hmm you think sabine has depression

FUCK OFF WITH THAT SABINE SEES EZRA MUSICAL CALLBACK

oh hey hey it's his original message to theeeeem

wait shit yeah it's the new one just to her

ooh it's eman! i can't see his faaaaace expressions but the voice sounds similar? like it seems like he's tryna match taylor's way of speaking good for him

ok yes but ezra is a jedi show pretty please for me don't go there with sabine

ok ok that's enough complaining from me lmao

ACTUALLY NO WAIT ONE MORE *inhales*

i would prefer sabine and ezra to stay platonic friends. no hate to shippers but i just personally would like them to be friends/siblings, that's what would make me happiest because i like to imagine sabine as a lesbian and also their dynamic as friends/siblings just makes me happy

but shippers are of course still welcome here and if they do become a couple i won't begrudge you your fun :')

ok ok ok ok ok NOW i'm done lmao

back to Best Boy sorry bby you were speaking and i interrupted you <3

oh hey hey he did say sister! i'd like that!!!

but also ezra when tf did you have the time to record those both weren't u a bit busy planning the attack on lothal

oh it's darkside goth girl

nice smoky eye

oh wait fuck she's got a PADAWAN BRAID

heyyyyyy i was RIGHT about the temple statues looking like nightsisters!

but wrong about darkside goth girl being one then tho

well masked emo fucker following bryan or whatever his name is is probs an inquisitor

wait wait wait does MORGAN have gold eyes?

ooooooo

oh no wait darkside apprentice has gold eyes again

ugh okay so we ARE getting force sensitive sabine then

alright fine i'll make my peace with it this episode

even though it makes no SENSE

no no pe not going there we are going to have FUN

aaaaa repeating ezra's final dialogue from the rebels finale ;_;

love the mirroring shots to rebels ep 1 RIGHT DOWN TO SABINE WEARING EZRA'S ORANGE

ahsoka and anakin leitmotiff coming back hmmm

oh wait fuck i think ezra drew those lothcats oof ;_;

ok good good we going back to sabine being the rightful art expert in the gffa take second place and DUNK urself thrawn

ok i get they're tryna make them ex master and apprentice but imma say it. imma SAY IT

ahsoka and sabine give awkward exes vibes

BIG awkward exes vibes

m a s t e r

you both know damn well she's gonna take it anyway or at least try who are y'all even kidding urselves

oooh surprise surprise the darksider are former jedi-associated

oh right his name's baylan not bryan

WHY ARE YOU SURPRISED

oh there's goth darkside girl

if anyone hurts sabine's cat i will kill the entire world and then myself

i swEAR TO GOD

WHY DOES THE SHOW KEEP MAKING AHSOKA AND SABINE SEEM LIKE ANGRY EXES LMAOOOO

COME ON

ahsoka ur being emo so hera is allowed to make a dig at anakin

hera you're trying your best girl lmao

it's always rule of three it seems

kinda gives me that mortis trinity vibe

this reminds me of the time i got one of those 3D puzzles from barnes and noble and i was supposed to take it apart and put it back together and failed utterly

ope she did it!

again if someone even TOUCHES that fucking cat wrong i go full john wick

bitch NO SHOOTING NEAR THE CAT

ope they smashed the map

ahsoka my dude i'm guessing you know where sabine lives why didn't u just go find her lmao

wait does sabine have ezra's green lightsaber i can't tell from the hilt because i'm shit at recognizing hilts

i can't even appreciate the duel because i am admittedly pouting but they are both very pretty at least

sabine how r u not getting ur hair chopped off

oh fuck she got stabbed?

maybe shoulda worn ur mando armor

oh and she's still MOVING

oh nope there she goes

oh wait who's Ray? :(

okay

okay okay okay

dave my dude.........

okay so i am going to take some time like a few minutes or so

and process this sabine thing

like if i cannot find a way to come to fucking terms with it i will not be able to enjoy this series

ik ik that sounds dramatic i'm just

hmm ok five minutes

[isagrimorie]

[initial reactions] Star Wars Ahsoka 1x01 - 1x02: Master and Apprentice / Toil and Trouble

Off the bat I will say it is very Pilot set of episodes which isn’t BAD, its just what’s needed to start a series, you have to build a foundation for the show especially since Filoni seems to want to build a whole thing for this and he is table setting a LOT.

I do also love that we have many favors of Star Wars now, the serious and Emmy worthy Andor, the cowboy adventures of Din and his Son in the Mandalorian, Kenobi - which should’ve been a movie, but still fun, Boba Fett… which was a mixed bag and now

Ahsoka series which feels both old school Star Wars and Rebels/Clone Wars type. In fact the show felt very Rebels.

I am worried though there’s a sect of fans who are used to having everything at once and think the first two episodes are slow and write off the show.

Anyway first off:

I really love that we’re now getting hints that we’re getting flavors of more than one set of Force user. There’s the Jedi trained, the Night sisters who use the Force differently, and people who are not as sensitive to the Force.

I love that Morgan Elspeth is a Night Sister and classified herself as a “Survivor”there’s a parallel here with the surviving Jedis in this show with Morgan, who were also survivors of a genocide.

This is why I love that Sabine is Ahsoka’s apprentice because Ahsoka willingly took on Sabine knowing she isn’t as Force sensitive but I hope this show continues on the path that everyone has the Force, its just the Jedi usually are more sensitive to it, that doesn’t mean the Force is just the province of the Jedi/Sith.

As the Original Trilogy mentioned via Obi-Wan, the Force is: "It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together.”

CREATED BY ALL LIVING THINGS.

Also, “I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.” This was something Chirrut said, something Ahsoka echoed.

Like, right now, I know Ahsoka is ambivalent with being called a Jedi by other people — whenever someone calls her a Jedi she gives them an inscrutable look.

This brings me to a thought, when and if Ahsoka feels ready to use “Jedi” again that she continues on her own path about this because I feel Filoni has something he wants to drive home with about the Order. I like to think of Ahsoka forging her own path to teaching the Force and the things she learned from the Jedi and then passing that knowledge on to Sabine, who is an unconventional apprentice and Mandalorian.

Also - when Hyuang asked Ahsoka about how she got an answer from Morgan Eslpeth and she said: By not following Jedi protocol that was a very, very Anakin answer.

I love that we see more of Sabine but she’s also just biding her time in Lothal and nothing else and I feel like Hera’s reasoning — she needed structure. I imagine after Mandalore fell (again) and Ahsoka cut her off she’s just been around not particularly compelled to do anything. Just like Ahsoka, who seems to have developed an inability to stay at one place. Looking for things to do and uncover, Hera’s comment about ‘needing a structure’wasn’t just about Sabine, it was about Ahsoka too.

I don’t think it was lost on Hera that Ahsoka is just keeping herself preoccupied looking for ghosts and missions to do. By all accounts, Ahsoka could have just settled down anywhere and Be Okay. But it seems Ahsoka’s traumas ran deep and more than a Jedi order edict where she’s keeping people at arms length, I feel the reason why Ahsoka is bouncing around every where is because she can’t stay in one place. If she stayed in one place that’s just too much time on her hands to think and she’s lost too many people to want to attach herself to anyone.

So her best friend is a droid. Her home is a ship. Her hobbies is going out in deep space looking for enemies to fight.

Hera pushing the connection to Sabine is a two way street for both Ahsoka and Sabine.

Anakin grew-up and found steadiness when he started mentoring Ahsoka. I wonder how mentoring Sabine, who is almost like her when she was young — bullheaded, headstrong, and stubborn— would help Ahsoka?

Speaking of Sabine, can I just say, I am also glad that this shows explores the diversity of Force users, we also seem to be exploring other Mandalorians which, THANK YOU. I was so sick of the Children of the Watch cult and their ‘This is the way’nonsense. If the Watch felt more than a little Viking, I’m glad Sabine’s Mandalorian-ness feels a little more Japanese inspired. It feels right. She also doesn’t constantly wear her helmet, which is THE MANDALORIANS I KNOW TO BE.

Maybe someone would even mention the pacifist Mandos on this show. If they do, I would love this show even more.

And then of course, Hera and Chopper! Hera felt like a facilitator so I hope we get more of Hera Syndulla the Character and less Hera the Facilitator. The most Hera she felt, was of course, when she was flying with Chopper. THAT PSYCHOPATHIC DROID.

I bet Chopper was disappointed because he didn’t get to kill anyone. I can’t wait to see who this psychopath kills in live action!

[calummss]

Failed Mission | Kylo Ren

masterlist

summary: you failed a mission and have to deal with snoke’s consequences until kylo steps in

requested by: anon

words: 1.8K

Your black combat boots hit the hallways of the Finalizer leaving behind an echo. Your feet moved at a very fast pace trying to keep up with Kylo. With Kylo Ren by your side you strut through the main part of the ship trying to get to the conference room in time. Several people would be joining you today, to invade Jakku in aid of finding the two droids that had stolen a pod and escaped the ship all by themselves. Even when you had to explain to Supreme Leader Snoke what had happened you were embarrassed to say the least. How could two dumb droids escape the most guarded ship in the galaxy?

Making your way through the empty hallways you started to approach the conference room door that was guarded by two stormtroopers. The door slid up and the table was almost filled.

‘Kylo R-‘

‘Sit down, General Engell.’

‘Yes, Sir.’ she sat down and placed her arms on the table.

You followed Kylo to the head of the table and took your seat next to him, opening the files that would be needed for today's meeting. The seats were filled with Generals who were sceptical about the plans Kylo made.

‘We’ve all heard those two droids that escaped the Finalizer.’ Kylo started to pace around the room, trying to keep his anger under control. ‘They escaped using one of our pods located in the lower base of the ship. They were unsupervised. Someone let them out of their sight.’

You glanced at Kylo. He was wearing his helmet but you could tell that he was biting his lip in frustration. He always did. Ever since you met him, he’s bitten his lip on any occasion something didn’t go his way. You knew how important it was for him to get those droids back, to show them how great and powerful Kylo Ren is, to show Snoke that he is the chosen one. Looking around the room you saw General Pryde and Quinn take notes whilst General Armitage Hux kept a close eye on Kylo’s frame that was pacing around the room.

‘One of the droids is from the R2-series astromech droid, which was manufactured by Industrial Automaton. He’s blue and white in colour but does not look brand new. He was built in 32BBY or prior.’

Everyone was taking notes again to give the descriptions to stormtroopers that would set foot on Jakku. No one but a few selective people had seen the droids.

‘The other droid is a 3PO-series protocol droid that was also built prior to 32BBY. He’s completely gold and stupid.’ Kylo huffed with a hint of annoyance. ‘Make sure that every corner is checked, every stone is turnt over and every street is cleared. I want those droids back!’

Kylo finally sat down. The rest of the Generals were looking at him waiting for something else.

‘Y/N will take care of the rest. Leave.’

And with that they stood up, bowed and left the room so you two could continue talking about the plan and how you could get the droids back.

‘Do you think we’ll be able to find them?’ you stared at his face, hoping he wouldn’t be too harsh on himself.

‘Of course I will. I have to. We’re the First Order we always get what we want.’ he turned his head to you.

‘I’ll get started then okay?’ you gave him a reassuring smile and stood up.

Before you could walk off he grabbed your hand and placed a soft kiss on the back on your fingers. ‘Be safe.’

‘I will.’

You grabbed your files and headed out of the door like the rest of the Generals before you. You made your way back through all the hallways the Finalizer had. Heels clicking you made your way to the bottom section of the ship and opened the door to reveal the landing site. You walked past spaceships, shipments, other workers and containers to reach the large group of stormtroopers waiting for you. 200 of them stood in a block arrangement waiting for orders.

‘I’ll be sending you to Jakku on the orders of Kylo Ren. Two droids were reported missing a few hours ago when they stole a pod and stranded on the planet. Find the droids and bring them back alive! I will be joining you.’ you ended your quick speech earning a salute from the troopers before you. They cleared out and made their way to the First Order Transporter.

10 minutes later you landed on Jakku. It was warm, humid, dull and beige. You saw the village in the distance and motioned the troops towards the east of your current standpoint. Swinging your arm over your forehead you tried to keep the whirling sand out of your face. You walked through the desert to arrive at the main part of the village soon after. You sent the troops away and walked to a cantina to freshen up. You ordered something from the menu and took your time to relax. You couldn’t fail this mission. You couldn’t fail Kylo, you couldn’t fail Supreme Leader Snoke.

It has been six hours since you landed on the planet located on the outer rim of the galaxy and no stormtrooper came back to report the founding of the droids. Growing impatient you swung back the last shot of whatever liquid the bartender gave you and marched outside getting blinded by the sun. You walked up to a group of stormtroopers that were standing at the side of the building letting passengers go through.

‘Mission report.’

‘We have not yet found them, Miss.’

‘First of all it’s General Y/L/N to you and what do you mean you haven’t found them yet?’ you scanned the group in front of you trying to find a hint of sarcasm.

‘General Y/L/N, we have not found them. They seem to have disappeared with a girl and a boy.’

‘A girl and a boy?’

‘Yes, they were sighted two hours ago but no one has seen them since.’

You rolled your eyes. It was already getting dark and you’d have to call off the mission. You wouldn’t be able to find them in this condition. You gathered the troops and wandered back to your shuttle. You left the planet empty handed. You had failed.

You turned one of your monitors sideways and dialed Kylo Ren’s number, hoping he’d pick up and understand your attempts to find them.

‘Kylo?’ you questioned not knowing if he was there.

‘Yes. Did you find the droids?’

You took a big breath before letting the words slip off your tongue. ‘No, I haven’t.’

‘What do you mean ‘no’?’ he said a whisk of frustration in his tone.

‘I said no, Kylo. I don’t have the droids. We’re coming back as I speak. It’s getting dark and that would just put everything on hold regardless.’

Kylo stayed silent. The kind of silence that filled the void and made things awkward. He was angry, you could tell. He had every right to be but not at you.

‘Kylo, are you still there?’

‘Come back to the ship.’ and with that he hung up.

You were navigating the ship to the landing site when you saw General Hux and Kylo Ren waiting for you to dock your ship. You walked down the extended ramp and greeted the two with the bad news.

‘General Hux, Kylo Ren, I’m sorry to inform you on the failed mission for the search of the droids. They were last seen with a girl and boy and haven’t been spotted since. It was getting dark and I decided to take the soldiers back to the Finalizer as it wouldn’t have made a difference.’

‘Don’t apologise to me, General. You can save it for Supreme Leader Snoke. He wants to see you right this second.’ General Hux informed you.

You look up at Kylo to see him not paying attention to a single word that was just spoken. You started to make your way towards Supreme Leader Snoke, stormtroopers and other working people stepping out of your way in fear. Everyone heard about the failed mission and the fact that Snoke requested an audience with her.

‘Are you mad at me?’ you spoke ahead, concentrating on your footsteps.

‘No. I’m mad that the mission failed.’

You pressed your lips together. ‘Okay.’

When you arrived at the doors, they were opened and you saw that Snoke was already waiting for you. His body projected onto the large seat in front of you.

‘Leave.’ Snoke looked down on Hux. He left the room within seconds and it was just you, Kylo and Snoke trying to bear the tension between you.

‘You failed.’ his harsh tone penetrated your ears. Yet you stood tall and didn’t dare to let him intimidate you. ‘You continue to let me down General Y/L/N, I can’t continue to condone this kind of failure under my order!’

Suddenly you felt an invisible grip around your throat. Snoke was using the force to choke you. You airways closed in every on going second and you head started to feel lightweight. Your legs were kicking the air as you tried to get out of his grasp but it was useless.

‘Stupid girl.’

‘Let her go, Master.’ you heard Kylo demand.

‘What did you say to me?’ Snoke’s grip on you tightened.

‘I said let her go.’

‘You don’t tell me what to do, boy.’ Snoke gritted. ‘You’re nothing.’

Suddenly it felt like someone had turned on the activation button on life support. Your lungs were filled with air as you gasped out for more. Your hands lightly wrapped themselves around your throat, trying to stabilize yourself. From the corner of your eye you saw Kylo approach Snoke with his ignited lightsaber. Kylo had caught Snoke off guard when he pierced through his body—impossible.

Still trying to accustom to the air you heart Kylo yell.

‘You don’t fool me, I knew you were sitting there this whole time, using the projector as a cover up. Pathetic.’

You saw Snoke fall to his knees taking his final breath before his body slammed to the floor. Kylo came running towards you, picking you up.

‘Hey, hey, are you alright.’

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ you croaked out.

‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’

And that was the day Kylo Ren saved you from the man he feared the most, to become the man the galaxy would fear even more. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren.

[phoenixyfriend]

ok. karin vs anakin's genome being 50% the Force. go

Jesus fuck, okay. Uh, fair warning, I know very little about this subject, so it’s 90% bullshit. I am in no way qualified to talk about biology past the high school level.

Anakin's sixteen. He's part of a set of Jedi assigned to a weird mission regarding making contact with an isolated planet of near-humans with superpowers but no space travel. He doesn’t really have a Job here and now, he’s just there as Obi-Wan’s plus-one. There's an underlying plot about Sidious trying to acquire people from Ninja Land, but none of the Jedi are fully aware of it. Mostly they're distracted by all the ninjas and their bitching.

They call it the Shinobi Planet, because nobody can agree on a name for the planet when they ask and the last major international alliance was named after the shinobi profession, right? Good enough, you can change it later when you idiots can agree on literally anything, oh my god. The Samurai are very offended and it's a whole thing.

Anakin wanders a lot. He runs into various strange people and is mostly polite because, listen, half his friends are distinctly not human. When your immediate circle includes nautolans and besalisks and twi’leks and whatever the fuck Yoda is, you’re not gonna blink at a Hoshigaki or... uh... okay that kid just turned into a giant fox, is anybody gonna--no? That’s normal? Just him? Cool, cool, cool.

There’s a kage summit involved in the negotiations going on. IDK what’s being negotiated, probably something to get the ninjas to set up a singular spaceport so there’s somewhere to land WITHOUT ships being regularly shot down by village defense systems powered by that massive flaming purple skeleton warrior or the girl who punched down a mountain or the.. the literal desert? There’s a guy that can control the desert? Is there any way of keeping him away from Anakin?

(Gaara’s tickled pink that the reason someone wants to stay away from him has nothing to do with fear or respect for authority, and everything to do with ‘he is also from the desert and fucking hates it, so he’s staying away from the sand powers,’ because it’s very novel and kind of funny.)

ANYWAY where was I. Uh. Right, kage summit, lots of villages, they invite smaller villages to pitch in, but nobody ever ever ever wants Orochimaru anywhere near this situation, for hopefully obvious reasons, so Otogakure sends Karin.

Really, who else was it gonna be? Suigetsu? You want Suigetsu representing you on an interstellar political field? You want Juugo before he’s stabilized? You want Sasuke, master of ruining kage summits? You want these idiots representing you at the big kids’ table?

They send Karin. She’s a bitch with a temper, but at least she’s not as big of a political risk as... literally anyone else from the snakepit.

Anyway, Anakin wanders around, meeting people, trying foods, showing off when asked for demonstrations. He doesn’t have an Entire Protocol Droid, but he did cobble together a little floating helper that can do translations for him. Assume all translations are accurate and being done by the little helper bot. Bot’s name is G1-0T. Anakin calls it Glot.

He runs into Karin at one point, who’s not super into the whole situation, but at least Anakin’s interesting. She’s not interested in him, because he’s sixteen and she’s like... mid-twenties. And his hair is stupid. But! All these force-sensitive people feel weird to her, because sensor stuff, and it’s not chakra but it’s... something. Anakin is, of course, the weirdest.

(There are non-sensitives in the envoy, so she knows it’s not just a space thing.)

She strikes up a conversation about it, because hey, she hasn’t made it this far to not lean into... you know, being the kind of person who barges ahead with Weird Questions that might lead into fun science stuff.

Anakin is like. Well. This woman’s very strange, but it’s not like there’s anything against talking about midichlorians to random people. It’s easy enough to look up in the core. Not everyone knows about them, but it’s not a secret or anything.

“Wow,” Karin says, though not in so many words, “that sounds incredibly strange, and actually a lot like it functions completely differently from chakra, though maybe it intersects with nature chakra somehow. Can I take a blood sample?”

Anakin doesn’t want to give a blood sample to a stranger. Karin isn’t stupid enough to try to steal one. She’s seen what this Force Stuff can do, and this kid’s got a lot of it. She hasn’t got enough information on hand about it to know if he’d notice.

“How about I let you look at the blood of a guy that can turn into water?” Karin asks, because she’s not going to let him look at her blood. “I’ve got it with me.”

“...why?” Anakin asks, reasonably disturbed.

“He owes me,” she says, and does not elaborate.

“What, there’s nothing weird about your blood to share?” Anakin demands, like the ornery little bastard he is.

“People took my blood against my will for over a decade,” Karin says, with the kind of smile that threatens a stabbing. This is not secret information. Her healing factor is in the bingo book. Plenty of people still want her dead. “Nobody gets my blood except me.”

Anakin has no idea what to do with that answer. Most people wouldn’t know what to do with that answer. It’s not exactly a standard answer.

“So there is something weird about your--e chu ta what the fuck are those scars?”

Karin looks at her arm. She looks back at him. She raises an eyebrow.

“What do you think they are?”

He stares a little longer, and then very carefully does not say anything as she pushes her sleeve back down.

“So can I look at your blood?” she asks again.

“Uh--”

“You can look at mine under a microscope,” she wheedles. “You can’t take any, though.”

Anakin... does eventually agree. Eventually.

-----------

There is a very angry redhead yelling at a machine, and Anakin does not know what to do.

“Is something wr--”

“What the fuck is your blood?” she demands. “It’s glowing in ultraviolet. It burned the dye up. I tried to sequence your genome--”

“Woah, I did not agree to that.”

“--and look at this. Look at this!”

“I don’t know how to read your graphs. None of this is a language I know.”

“It’s garbage,” she hisses at him. Glot takes a few moments to process it. “Look at this. This is supposed to--fuck, where’s the Jiraiya file, he’s standard--this is what it’s supposed to look like for most humans with chakra. And this is a civilian, and a few bloodline users--”

“Do you just carry these around with you?”

“Shut up, you don’t exist. You have--you have more in common with summons than people. I ran a blood test on one of your human diplomats, the ones that aren’t monks--”

“When did they agree to that?”

“They didn’t, I’m just sneaky.”

“I should tell Obi-W--”

“STAY THERE, I’M NOT DONE YELLING YET. Do you see this? Do you see this shit? This is the one and only time I’ve managed to perform any kind of analysis on a bijuu. They don’t usually have blood. Shukaku is sand. Matatabi is literally just fire. This was almost impossible to make happen, but I did it because I’m a dedicated biomedical resea--”

“Because you’re unhinged.”

“--rcher, and you know what? You know what I’ve found?”

“What?”

“Your blood looks like you’re half demon,” she says, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking, a little wild-eyed and clearly pissed at him. “Half of it’s human! Half of it looks like the non-physical chakra manifestations that were torn-apart remnants of a godlike demon. The fuckers can’t die. They also can’t breed. They don’t have reproductive organs! This isn’t just demon-tainted like a jinchuuriki, I’ve got that analyzed--”

“Why?”

“Because my cousin’s a moron, don’t change the subject. You--you shouldn’t exist. Your blood is stupid. Fuck, is this what I’d find if I analyzed the Sage of the Six Paths?”

“The what?”

She ignores him, frowning at papers. “Is--I need to call Haruno, she might still have some of Kaguya’s blood dried on her old gloves from the war, I know she kept those as a souvenir from the whole ‘punched a god’ thing.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“There was a thing a few years back, godlike alien demon princess who got sealed into a moon by her sons a thousand years ago, but her immortal sentient goo child brought her back with a giant tree that consumed all the tailed beasts-the flaming fox you saw earlier is one of them--and then used a giant eyeball to reflect off the moon to put everyone in a hallucination at the same time so she could eat our life-forces,” Karin dismisses. “It’s not important.”

“There is--what?”

Jedi see many things. Many of those things are very strange.

This is a little much even for Anakin.

“It’s over, if you want the actual details, talk to my idiot cousin,” she huffs. “But now I need to run comparisons between the actual nonsense that is your entire existence and the actual nonsense that is my cousin’s existence, and maybe Sasuke’s... fuck this is going to be a mess, I’m going to have to cross-reference all the clans with bloodlines we know are derived from Kaguya, she’s the only angle we have on gods like that, unless... maybe there’s still some black Zetsu goo somewhere... Orochimaru must have kept a sample...”

“Uh, can I--can I go? I’m not comfortable here.”

“I need to find Naruto so he can call the Sage of the Six Paths out of the afterlife so I can see if I can get blood from a ghost to compare to yours.”

[halfagonyandhope]

when the skies catch fire │ch. 23

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

As they approach Coruscant, Satine dons the scarlet Mandalorian armor once more. She and Neha - wearing the armor Obi-Wan had stolen - board the VCX-series auxiliary starfighter docked at the rear of the freighter piloted by Chewbacca. Knowing a team comprised of two Mandalorians and a Wookiee would draw too much attention, Satine had requested Chewbacca stay with the freighter at a safe distance. She and Neha would take the shuttle to the planet’s surface, with Chewbacca ready to swoop in if need be.

Now, as the Mandalorians prep the shuttle, they hear Chewbacca give a supportive howl over their helmet’s comms. Though Satine is still learning Shyriiwook, she knows what he is saying.

May the Force be with you.

“See you soon, my friend,” Satine says in response, and the shuttle drops into the atmosphere.

It is night on this side of Coruscant, and the shuttle blends in against the rows and lights of evening traffic, a phantom masquerader. They head immediately toward Padmé’s apartment. Neha navigates the shuttle toward the terrace, and they exit quickly through the rear of the ship.

Satine scans the terrace. The furniture is toppled, light fixtures shattered, ornamental art displaced. “Someone’s searched for her here. And quite thoroughly.”

“I’m surprised it hasn’t yet been looted,” adds Neha.

As they move forward, a reflection of golden light catches Satine’s eye. “Threepio?” she asks. The protocol droid steps out from behind a curtain, hands raised. 

“I surrender!” he says.

Satine rolls her eyes. “There’s no need for dramatics, Threepio. Get in the shuttle.” She adds, gesturing over her shoulder with her helmet.

Threepio shuffles forward. “Well, there’s no need to be rude about it,” he mutters. “You haven’t even introduced yourself.”

“I don’t have time for this,” says Satine, grabbing Threepio’s arm and dragging him toward the shuttle. “Look, my friend and I are trying to help Padmé. In order to help her, we have to find her first. Do you know where she might be?”

“She wouldn’t tell me!” says Threepio, clearly insulted. “Imagine. All those years of service, and I could not be trusted with such information - ”

Satine sighs and pushes him in the shuttle, shutting the airlock behind him. The terrace is mercifully quiet again.

She turns back to Neha. “Any ideas?”

“Yes,” says Neha immediately. “Padmé’s never coming back to these quarters, and there’s a lot of tech here that we could use. Let’s take what we can scavenge.”

It turns out to be a good call: Satine finds a medical droid and a crate of med supplies. She also grabs a set of the least inconspicuous outfit of Padmé’s she can find - if they manage to locate her, Satine knows she may need a change of clothing.

The gear tucked under her arm, Satine pauses mid-step. On the ground, nearly crushed by her boot, is a snippet of japor wood hung from a delicate leather cord. Satine picks up the trinket.

The japor gives it away - this type of ivory wood is only found on Tatooine - and Satine knows it must have been a gift from Anakin.

She rushes to Neha, who has just finished loading the med supplies onboard. Satine hits the button to close the door as Neha settles into the pilot’s seat. 

“She’s at the Temple,” says Satine.

Neha looks at her over her shoulder. “Bail said she was in the lower levels.”

Threepio tries to interject excitedly with something about Senator Organa, but Satine powers him down. 

“She’ll have needed to see firsthand the evidence of what Skywalker did,” says Satine as Neha lifts the shuttle back into airspace. “And no one would think to look for her among the bodies.”

“But it’s been days,” says Neha as they make their way toward the Temple. “Surely she would have left by now?”

Satine doesn’t respond. She doesn’t need to.

There are scores of clone troopers around the perimeter of the Temple, evident even from a distance. Even if Padmé had made it into the Temple undetected in the chaos that followed the Jedi’s genocide, there was no way she could have made it out.

“I see your point,” murmurs Neha. 

Satine runs the scanner. “There are only two life forms inside. Looks like the clones have been told to hold the perimeter.” She pauses. “But why have they not scanned for life forms? Surely they would have checked for survivors?”

“Arrogance,” says Neha immediately. “They take orders from the Sith. The Sith believe everyone inside is already dead; double-checking isn’t in their nature.”

Exactly why the clones take their orders from the Sith is something to be examined at another time, Satine knows. Right now, she is more concerned with aiding the two survivors within the Temple walls.

“I can’t narrow down their location,” says Neha. “The shuttle needs some updates, clearly.”

“No matter,” says Satine. “I know where they are.”

She knows Padmé. And even if only one person had survived the massacre, Padmé would have found them.

Satine directs Neha to the room where she had stayed as a refugee after her escape from Mandalore. As they navigate to the window of the room, some of the clones track their progress. “Let’s make this quick; they see us,” says Neha, her tone terse but calm.

They hover outside the window, and Satine opens the rear door to the shuttle. Then she removes her helmet.

The floor-length window immediately swings outward.

“Satine!”

It is indeed Padmé, her hair unkempt and falling to her waist, her expression a mix of exhaustion and terror and relief all at once. A Jedi youngling cowers behind her.

“Quickly!” says Satine, reaching out her hand.

“Go, Reva!” urges Padmé, pushing the young girl forward. Reva climbs through the window and jumps. Satine catches her then turns toward Padmé, who wastes no time in jumping to the shuttle as well.

The door hisses shut behind them, and the shuttle escapes just as the clone troopers begin to organize below. Satine puts her helmet back on. “Chewbacca?”

She hears an inquisitive vocalization in response. Ready?

“We’re on our way,” she replies, and the shuttle rushes up to the atmosphere.

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 15 rewatch thoughts

- mayfeld does hear when the droid talks to him the first time, you can see him pretending not to like he hopes he’ll just go away haha. I also guess he’s had a lot of time to think, picking apart pieces of the large fascist machine he used to be a part of and going over everything he clearly regrets 

- hahaha fennec and boba are in the back intensely keeping watch the entire time they’re on the prison planet. I suppose a good two thirds of this crew is uuuuh extremely wanted by the new republic lol

- the thing din’s voice does at the end when he says “but you still know your imperial clearances and protocols. don’t you.” is beyond fucking words, it sends a chill right through me

- 

1) din fiddling with that panel; I think he’s phenomenally nervous behind the helmet here, that’s the sort of keeping his hands busy he does when he’s anxious and 2) why the hell does boba have this many chairs instead of like space for cargo haha does he throw bounty hunter parties in here or what

- ngl boba correctly guessing at a glance what sort of ore they’re mining and informing everyone in his sardonic deadpan voice is Big Sexy  

I love how he and fennec are standing together when they’re both present in these opening scenes too, first at the very back when they’re keeping a lookout: 

and then in the foreground while they discuss the scan 

it’s a nice subtle way to get across that they already have a dynamic, they’re somewhat used to working together as a unit at this point. (she’s also looking over at him when she asks what they might be mining in there, like she’s mostly asking his opinion instead of opening it to the floor. they’re talking the mission out between them before din enters the conversation)

- the inside of slave 1 when the ship’s moving makes me a little bit motion sick, I really love seeing it but I hope we don’t stay in here too often haha

- aaaw the small weary sigh din gives upon realizing none of his bros can go with mayfeld. I’m sorry about basically your entire life buddy

-

the awkward way din adjusts the helmet like he’s trying to get used to the way it feels ;______;  

- ah the distinct implication that mayfeld is needling din about this because he’s actually feeling super uncomfortable being back in empire gear and he needs to transfer that discomfort over onto someone else so he won’t have to feel through it... very psychologically understandable and such a fucking piece of shit asshole character trait to give in to haha

- din’s level of side eye is so epic you can see it straight through the helmet fhaskjfhd

- neat detail: din’s head turns slightly toward mayfeld when he calls mandalorians a ‘race’. (it’s sort of cool  that we as the audience know why that bothers him, but mayfeld probably didn’t even pick up on it). also shows that mayfeld doesn’t actually quite understand what he’s talking about, even when he makes decent points he’s caught up in his own myopic nihilistic point of view. ‘we’re all the same’ ------> ‘everyone’s secretly as shitty as me deep down’. (which also betrays a lot of self loathing, since we see later he does have the capacity to NOT be that shitty when he chooses to. rick famuyiwa manages to get a LOT of really interesting nuanced stuff into this character in two short episodes, that’s super impressive)   

the bright sunny look on mayfeld’s face when din finally gives in and takes the bait tho fsajdkfhasj he’s awful but that’s very funny

- rip all these excellent dudes who really only wanted to accomplish the noble goal of ruining the empire’s entire day and didn’t know they were also trying to blow up My Dad Who Does Not Deserve Any Of This, it’s honestly just really sad that there’s no moment to talk that out

well at least they blew up the entire refinery on their way out, I’m sure that’s the way they would have wanted their memories honored lol

- the comedy beat of din running out of ammo for the first time ever and the music briefly cutting out for it is so so good for me 

hahahaha din seems to actually take a moment to be a little aghast at that dude who ends up crushed under the treads of the tank thing, he’s just sort of staring for a few seconds too long and that’s how pirate nr 2 takes him by surprise and shatters his shoulder armour 

- I feel a bit bad -- two of the ‘pirates’ try to hold on to each other for balance and then din punches them apart and off the tank :( I mean it’s not like he could just let them murderate him either but like. ouch I’m guessing this one might haunt him for a while for several reasons huh

(the sequence is actually this guy, let’s call him pirate 3, swings the spear at din and misses, instead hitting his buddy who’s trying to get to his feet, then looks horrified and grabs for him to make sure he doesn’t fall off, and then... mando’s forehead happens to them haha)

- poor fennec and cara just running up that hill while everything’s on fire, they must be wondering what the FUCK is going on (at least cara knows that things blowing up is a sure sign din djarin is in the middle there somewhere)

- everything about carano in real life aside for one second -- I do like that we get this contrast in build between our main female characters of the episode and the way their costume designs enhance it

 - awwww the little gesture din does with his hand after he removes it from mayfeld’s chest after stopping him from leaving, it’s just so... sweet. it’s a little bit appeal, a little bit reassurance, it just lightens/softens the tone of what he says a bit (he has quite a lot of like... not conciliatory mannerisms exactly, but small touches here and there that are there to communicate that he’s not angry/aggressive or trying to be a dick about it even when he’s emphatic. I keep wondering how much that is just him being him and how much is him being practiced at settling other people’s hot tempers)  

- this shot is just... genius

it’s din seen entirely from the outside, with nothing of what we’ve learned to recognize as him for almost two seasons now in view -- not even his face, which we have at least a tenuous fledgling attachment to from before. it’s like we get introduced to him almost as if anew again and again in this episode, just like he’s getting introduced to new aspects of himself and what he’s willing to do and having to struggle to find ways to have that fit with who he is. his discomfort and stress is our discomfort and stress. it’s so interesting 

- I can’t stop cackling at this moment even in all the tension -- you only get a sliver of din’s profile but you can feel the sheer MURDER radiating off him sdhfasjk

- aaaaaaaagh the way you get a whole different view of din’s habitual impassiveness when you can actually see his face... the way he keeps appealing to mayfeld ‘just don’t make more trouble, just shut up’, the way he goes completely silent and watchful and frozen..... those are all really obvious trauma responses, and it leads you to wonder how often he touches into that even when he’s in his element, when he’s got the full armour on. hmngh my heart  

- ‘the believer’ is such a galaxy brain title for this episode, because it could be referring to either of the three men around this table or all of them at once. (and crucially the only person whose beliefs aren’t in a living, breathing state of adapting to the world around them is the empire officer, with his horrific inhuman ideology. mayfeld thinks he believes in nothing, and proves himself explosively wrong by the end of the episode, and it’s redeeming for him in some capacity. din is facing a more internal dilemma of different parts of his (and his culture’s) beliefs/values clashing and having to decide which one’s more important, to his identity and to how to exist in the world as a person (and love for the baby wins out supremely in the end. of course it does Y_____Y). the empire dude only sees the same sterile fascist world at the end of his shit rainbow that he’s clearly always done, even when faced with proof that it’s untenable. (I mean he wouldn’t give a fuck that it’s immoral because he’s y’know evil, but he’s not even fazed by the fact that the empire provably FAILED, and failed so quickly) his belief is a dead and deadening thing to contrast the others. man when this show goes off with the themes it goes OFF haha) 

- love the triumphant heroic mando music kicking in as we’re finally getting to pick off imps, love that for us 

- din’s protective instincts at work again, he helps mayfeld to his feet and makes sure he’s safely on board before going further in himself ;_______;

- fennec’s professional approval at mayfeld’s shot hahaha. well I guess he was supposed to be a sharpshooter back in the day huh

I do Not think she likes mayfeld even after all that, though, the withering look she sends him on her way past... should have killed him stone dead on the spot

- seeing din back in the armour is like a physical relief, I can breathe again haha

- tfw you catch yourself thinking ‘at least when all this is over we can go back to the razor crest and everything will be normal again’ and then you rEMEMBER 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[pedro-pascal-love]

Moving On

One Shots ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ Join My Taglist 

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2k+

Summary: Moving on after saying goodbye.

Warnings: Angst, FLUFFFFFFFF

⟸ Officer Brown Eyes ❖ Raise Warriors ⟹

Din had let the Child go. He had let some Jedi walk in and waltz right back out with the Child. He wasn’t sure what to do now that he’d achieved what he’d sworn by the Creed to do. He stood rooted in the same spot with you next to him, just staring at the empty hallway littered with dismembered dark troopers. You looked over at him and could see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes, having finally let Grogu glimpse his face without the helmet on, only for him to say goodbye to his son. The sight broke your heart as you brought your hand to slip into Din’s and grasp it comfortingly.

“You’ll see him again,” you stated softly, as you felt Din’s fingers close around your own and squeeze. You turned to him and brought your hand to his face, much like how Grogu had done moments prior.

“I promised,” Din whispered, finally meeting your gaze as you nodded. You could see out of the corner of your eyes that Bo Katan, Cara, Koska, and Fennec had all turned away from you and Din, giving you both privacy. Din looked down at the helmet he held in his other hand and then back at you.

“I……” he started to say, but you brought your finger to his lips.

“You broke no Creed,” you consoled. “He is your son. Part of your clan.” Din nodded and turned to look at Bo Katan, who’d since then removed her helmet as well.

“She is right,” Bo Katan agreed. “Mandalorians are not forbidden from removing their helmets after taking the Creed. As I explained before, the Children of the Watch were a rogue group of zealots who interpreted the Creed more strictly. I would know because I was part of the Death Watch.” Din’s eyes shot up to meet hers.

“What?” He asked, confused as to who the Death Watch was.

“I remember hearing the stories,” you began. “The stories of the New Mandalorians and the Death Watch during the Mandalorian Civil War.” Bo Katan nodded and cast her gaze downward, growing anxious as to where you were going with this news.

“If I remember correctly, you were their leader for a time,” you continued, turning to face her as Cara and Fennec also turned to watch the interaction. “That was before that one guy took over, and you broke away.” Bo Katan again nodded and sighed.

“Yes, but that was a long time ago,” she defended. “A lot has changed since then. The Children of the Watch were a fragment from the Death Watch, raised under a more strict code than even the Death Watch followed. Secrecy was survival at the time because Mandalorians all over the galaxy were being hunted, especially after the Purge.”

“So that means that……I was raised by those people?” Din questioned, uncertain. You watched as he looked unsure of himself, so different than his confidence that he exuded when donning the helmet.

“Yes, in some way or another,” Bo Katan confirmed. You gripped Din’s hand tight and squeezed, giving him some comfort with his newfound discovery.

“So that means that he is still Mandalorian,” you stated as a fact. Bo Katan looked at you and nodded.

“Yes, and with the Darksaber, it also means that he has a claim to the throne. To my throne,” Bo Katan said harshly.

“I don’t want it,” Din said confidently. “I don’t want to rule Mandalore.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not how tradition works,” Bo Katan replied. “By right, you are now Mandalore. By tradition, you are now our leader.” You shifted your gaze from Din to hers and looking into her eyes.

“It seems to me that tradition is what got Mandalorians into this mess to begin with,” you stated, as you took the Darksaber from Din’s belt and held it. “For a weapon to bring such power, but at such a price is outlandish.”

“Yes, but that is the way of the Mandalore,” Koska tuned in.

“Maybe back then, and look how that all turned out. It’s time for things to change,” you said as you handed Din the Darksaber. “If you do not want it, then you do not want it, and that’s your decision to make.” Din nodded as he looked down at the weapon in his hands. He held it out as he lit the Darksaber, watching at the dark blade whooshed to life with a hum.

“I, Din Djarin, yield this weapon to you, Bo Katan, of the Clan Kryze,” he said, as he turned it off and shifted the hilt to face her, extending out his hand. Bo Katan looked at Din and then to you.

“Take it; it’s yours,” he said. “I do not want it.” Bo Katan reached for the saber but stopped before grabbing it. She looked at it for another moment before dropping her hand and shaking her head.

“No. It’s yours. You earned it. As she said, traditions are what got us here in the first place. I will reclaim my throne on Mandalore by my own right,” Bo Katan said as she looked at you. You gave her a small smile as Din took back the saber and placed it on his belt.

“Will you at least join us in retaking our homeworld?” Bo Katan asked, hopeful. Din shook his head as he looked down at your once again joined hands.

“I think I’m going to sit this one out for now. I have some things I want to take care of first,” Din replied.

―EIGHT MONTHS LATER―

You were exhausted. You and Din had decided to settle down on Nevarro to stay close to your friends, and you were glad to, seeing as you were the size of a whale, or so it seemed. It had taken the both of you by surprise when you’d found out shortly after the events of Moff Gideon’s light cruiser that you were with child. You guessed that the passionate encounter you and Din had shared on Slave I after Morak was when it had happened, but there were a few other encounters after that, so it was a guess. You were nearing your due date, and you were ready to kill anyone who got on your nerves for even looking at you wrong. Being the mother of a Mandalorian’s child was one thing, but when that Mandalorian was also someone as feared and respected as Din, there were many questions and a lot of looks. You shuffled over to the entrance of Greef’s home and knocked. You heard some shuffling, and then the door slid open with a whoosh.

“Welcome!!” Greef greeted as he leaned down to hug you as best as he could. “Goodness, you’re almost ready to pop!”

“Don’t even get me started!” You made your way into his home, and a protocol droid made its way over to you and offered you some help. You quickly waved it away and sat down.

“So, when should I be expecting him back?” Greef asked you, inquiring about where Din was. You shrugged.

“Last I heard, he was helping Boba with something on Tatooine and then said he had to go to his old covert and talk to them about something,” you answered.

“I see,” Greef replied. “Well, hopefully, he’s back in time for your little one!”

Ever since you and Din had returned with Cara to Nevarro Greef has been dotting on you. He was saddened to hear that Grogu had indeed gone off to train with the Jedi but was delighted to find out that you were expecting. He’d been dotting on you like an expectant grandfather, and it was endearing.

Some time passed while you were keeping Greef company, and he was telling you all about how he and Cara were making Nevarro even better when you heard telltale sounds of a ship landing on the outskirts of town. Greef quickly made his way out to greet whoever it was that landed, and you hoped that it was Din. You went to get up from lying down but felt a little pain in your lower back and winced. You tried to sit up further but then felt another jolt of pain run down your side as you clutched your belly.

“Oh no,” you said, as the protocol droid came back over at the sound of your distress.

“How can I be of assistance?” It asked.

“Get Greef or Cara NOW,” you shouted, feeling another burst of pain. You stayed rooted to your spot as you held your belly, trying to breathe through the pain. Within moments Cara burst in and saw you frozen to your spot in pain.

“Dank farrik,” she said as she walked over and supported your weight on her arm. “Let’s get you a to a bed. A medical droid is already on the way.” Cara helped carry you to the guest room and laid you down on the bed as the door opened, and a medical droid swiftly made its way into the room to assist you. You groaned as you felt pain and then a sudden rush of wetness between your legs.

“Oh boy,” Cara said, wide-eyed and in shock. “Guess the little one wants to come out right now!” You threw your head back in pain as you felt a contraction hit and cried out.

“WHERE IS HE?!” You screamed out, gripping her hand as you felt another contraction hit.

“He should be here soon. He and Boba landed; that was the ship that flew over the town. He should be here any minute,” Cara soothed. You let out a scream as the pain was increasing, but you didn’t want the medical droid to administer any pain killers just yet. You just wanted Din to be there with you for the birth of your child. You shut your eyes from the pain and let out another whimper, and you felt Cara let go of your hand. You grabbed the blankets as you felt another contraction hit and then felt a hand on your back stroking it. You opened your eyes and saw Cara as she smiled down at you and then looked towards the door. You followed her gaze as you saw him standing there, frozen in the doorway dressed in his armor.

“Din,” you breathed out, not sure if it was a dream or not. He promptly made his way into the room as you spied Boba behind him in the hallway with Greef. Din reached the side of the bed as he took his helmet off, and you heard the distinct whoosh of air as he removed it and placed it on the table next to you.

“I’m here, cyar’ika,” he said as he knelt by the bed and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m here.” You began to sob as you felt his breath on your face and warmth envelope you.

“You’re right on time,” you joked through tears as another contraction hit and Din grasped your hand.

“Sorry it took so long, but we had to take care of a few things,” Din said as he moved a pouch into your view. You shifted your gaze down and met two big eyes staring right back at you, and you began to sob even harder. Your little green bean was back with you.

“Oh Din!” you exclaimed, as you threw your arms around him and Grogu and cried some more. The moment was short-lived as another contraction hit you and Din pushed your shoulder back so you could lay down.

“Push, cyar’ika,” he urged gently as the medical droid positioned itself between your legs to help deliver the baby. You felt a little weight on the bed and saw Grogu come to sit next to you beside Din, watching curiously. You felt the medical droid begin the process to help deliver the baby, and you pushed. And pushed. And pushed. After a few moments of you screaming out while Din held your hand, you heard a little cry erupt from the foot of the bed as your child was delivered. The medical droid gingerly handed Din your child as you looked on in joy. He brought your baby close to you and Grogu as you touched its face.

“A son,” he whispered, tears brimming on the edge of his eyes.

“Diyari,” you replied, tears already streaming down your face. “Our little gift.”

“Diyari. Our gift,” Din agreed, as your son reached out and you watched as Grogu gave him a finger to grasp.

“Grogu,” you said, “meet your little brother.” Grogu cooed as he perked his ears up in glee as he studied the newest member of your little family.

“You have some explaining to do, by the way,” you spoke to Din as you both gazed at your two children.

“It turns out that Grogu doesn’t have to stay away forever to train to be a Jedi. Luke let him leave the Temple to come to stay with us a while, and he also mentioned that we could stay there as well if we came to visit,” Din explained. “Family is important to him.”

“I’m glad,” you said as exhaustion began to overtake you. You laid back on the bed as Grogu came and cuddled up beside you while Din tended to Diyari. You watched him cradle the little bundle and felt your heart swell with love. The man that you loved so much had given you a family—a home. You felt your eyes grow heavy as you began to drift off, but before you embraced the darkness of rest, you heard Din speak softly into your ear as he stroked your hair with his free hand.

“Cyar’ika, mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You felt him place a kiss on your head, and you smiled.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, riduur,” you replied, as you closed your eyes and drifted off.

Translations

Cyar’ika-darling

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum – I love you

Riduur – partner, spouse, husband/wife

⟸ Officer Brown Eyes ❖ Raise Warriors ⟹

[pretchatta]

prompt: holiday

dave said it's my turn to write a moons of rion fic

rating: teen; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 2.4k words

---

The Outer Rim planet of Rion was a tropical paradise. Beaches, bars and breathtaking views covered its surface, and the sight of the planet in the forward viewport made Kanan sigh with longing. So close, and yet so far.

It felt like he and Hera had been working non-stop for the past year. Between keeping the Ghost in fuel, the galley stocked, and working other (less well-paid, but Hera would argue more important) jobs, Kanan would like nothing more than to spend a few hours relaxing somewhere – anywhere – with Hera. They were something now; more than simply captain and crew, but exactly what that was Kanan hadn’t had time to find out.

He wouldn’t any time soon, either. This mission wasn’t even taking them to Rion itself, but to one of its moons. A quick pickup and then they’d fly straight back to Lothal to deliver it, get paid, and then move onto the next job.

Kanan sighed. “Remind me what the cargo is for this one?”

“I don’t know,” Hera replied absently as she steered the Ghost in an orbital path around Rion. Their destination appeared from behind the planet, the oceanic moon a deep blue colour dotted with small green-and-white islands. Just beyond it, its populated twin was also visible. “Vizago paid extra for discretion, but he didn’t offer me the dangerous goods fee, so I assume it’s at least safe.”

Kanan grimaced. “We’re relying on the integrity of a smuggler. I feel so reassured.”

“We need the credits, love. We’ve barely got enough fuel to make this delivery.” Hera gave the fuel gauge a worried look as the Ghost entered the moon’s atmosphere and they began their descent. Below them, taking up most of one of the smaller islands, Kanan could see a landing platform growing larger.

Hera touched the Ghost down with barely a bump. Had Kanan not realised months ago that his days of drifting were behind him, he knew he would find it very difficult to return to his old lifestyle. There were several comforts that came from crewing on the Ghost, the smooth landings being just one.

“Alright, let’s load up and get going.” Hera hit the ramp controls and led the way out of the cockpit.

Spaceport was a generous term for what greeted them outside. The battered landing platform was barely large enough for two ships, even though it took up most of the solid ground on the island, and the only permanent structure was a dilapidated single-storey hut. It looked like it was cobbled together from scrap, with the exception of the shiny solar panels stretched over the roof and the comm dish mounted haphazardly on one wall.

There were no windows, but the front door stuttered open as Kanan and Hera emerged from the Ghost. An ancient-looking prototype droid emerged, hobbling out towards them with slow, fitful steps.

“Welcome to landing site R-M2-S04,” it called out to them. Its mechanical voice was decidedly tinny. “I am C0-R4, the overseer droid for this location. Thank you for leaving your transponder on. Your ship has been identified as the Ghost.”

Droid-supervised transactions weren’t uncommon in their line of work. The handoffs were usually in remote locations like this one, and it was much cheaper to leave a droid to wait around than an organic being.

“We’re here to pick up Vizago’s shipment,” Hera told the droid.

“That is correct.” C0-R4 gave a jerky nod. “Your cargo will arrive in two days.”

“What?” Hera exclaimed. “Two days! We were told to come today, and that this job was time-critical!”

“Cikatro Vizago apologises for the unavoidable delay, but he understands that you have a fast ship.”

Hera glared at the droid, though Kanan knew her ire was in fact directed at their unreliable employer. “And what exactly are we supposed to do for the next two days?”

“I am not programmed for leisure itinerary planning,” it replied in its monotone. “I will be in low power mode until the shipment arrives. Good day.”

With that, the protocol droid turned and hobbled back into its hut. Hera stared after it in disbelief. Kanan, meanwhile, felt hope blooming in his chest.

“I know you’d rather get on with the job,” he said slowly, trying to keep his voice neutral, “but given our fuel situation, it looks like we’re staying in this system for the next two days. And since Rion’s right there…”

She turned to him with one eyebrow raised. His face must have shown more than he realised, because her eyes softened with sympathy.

“Kanan, I’d love to spend a few days on Rion with you, but we don’t have enough fuel to get there,” she said apologetically. “We barely have enough to take off and make it back to Lothal.”

Kanan was not deterred. “Okay, what about the Phantom? It has a separate fuel tank – we could take it to one of the resorts, stay for a few days and be back in time for the pickup.”

Hera shook her head. “I should probably siphon the Phantom’s fuel into the Ghost. We’re going to need it if we want the extra speed to make Vizago’s deadline.”

Kanan sighed. The captain's decision was final. “Fine. I guess we’re sitting here for two days eating stale rations. Hopefully the Ghost’s water purifier can handle the seawater.”

“Wait, rations? Don’t we have enough food?”

“We might have a couple dehydrated meal packs, but I was going to stock up when we got back to Lothal.”

Hera frowned. “I guess this is going to be a long two days.”

“It doesn’t have to be…” Kanan’s mind was racing as a new idea formed in his head. “Could you leave just enough fuel in the Phantom to make one trip to the other moon? It’s populated, and it’ll take less fuel to take off from because of the lower gravity. And right now it’s closer than Rion itself. I still have a few credits – not enough for fuel, but we could pick up some supplies, and then spend the next two days just relaxing here. It’s not exactly a luxury resort getaway, but it’s better than nothing.”

Hera looked unconvinced. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, Hera, we’ll still be able to make the delivery,” he pleaded. “And this way we can enjoy a few days of downtime! We’ve got nothing else to do, and it’s not like we’re going to get any trouble from the Empire out here.”

He could see her resolve wavering, and then–

“Okay, fine.”

Kanan resisted the urge to punch the air as she turned to walk back up the Ghost’s ramp.

“Chopper,” she called up to the cockpit, “work out the best course to the other moon, and be nice to the navicomputer this time! Then I want you to initiate a fuel transfer from the Phantom to the Ghost. Leave enough to make the trip to the other moon, Kanan and I will be going on a supply run when we get back.”

The old astromech blatted a question back at her from somewhere above them. Hera looked back at Kanan.

“We’re going for a walk,” she replied. “You’d hate it, you’d just get sand in your joints.”

Chopper made a rude noise, which Hera ignored.

“A romantic stroll along the beach, huh?” Kanan said, putting an arm around her waist.

“If we’re doing this, I should at least try to relax, and it seems like a good start.” Her arms snaked over his shoulders and around his neck, allowing him to pull her closer. Their noses brushed, lips an inch apart, but Kanan turned his head at the last moment to kiss her cheek instead.

“In that case…” he murmured against her earcone, and then dropped to his knees in front of her and gently lifted one of her knees. Hera complied, allowing him to raise her foot and slip her boot off it.

“You’re overdressed,” he continued. “Unlike Chopper, we can enjoy the feeling of sand between our toes.”

He finished removing her other boot, and looked up to see her smiling fondly down at him. He quickly shed his own boots, leaving both pairs just inside the cargo hold, and as an afterthought added his gloves. Hera did the same, allowing Kanan to take her bare hand and lead them back outside.

The beach was only a few steps away, and they strolled leisurely over the sun-warmed sand towards the brilliant blue water. Above, the odd fluffy white cloud floated in the teal-blue sky as the late afternoon sun shone down on the island. A faint breeze blew in from the sea, cooling the air and bringing with it the smell of salt.

Kanan ran his thumb over the back of Hera’s hand as a sense of calmness washed through him. Hera was right; the walk was a great idea. The sand was soft under his feet and with every step he could feel his body relaxing.

They stopped at the water’s edge, letting the waves lap at their toes. The water wasn’t exactly warm, but neither was it cold. They stood there for a few moments in comfortable silence, enjoying the tranquility.

Hera bumped her shoulder against Kanan’s. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t think I would have let myself have a break if I’d been on my own, but… I needed this.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You were right, dear.”

He smirked, and then leaned down to kiss her. She rose onto her toes to meet him. As with every time their lips met, Kanan felt a jolt of electricity through his stomach; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to kissing Hera Syndulla.

They resumed their walk, following the coastline. Doing a full circuit of the island wouldn’t take long. As far as Kanan could tell, there was no wildlife on this moon, but the lapping of the waves and the slide of their feet over the sand made for a perfect soundtrack.

“So, do you have anything in particular you want to pick up on this supply run?” Hera asked him.

“I thought we could get some fancy caf,” he replied, “y’know, since we're on holiday. And then something simple to eat that we could have on the beach.”

“That sounds good to me.”

He turned to give her a look. “We may be on a budget, but I like to eat out.”

She only managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds before laughing.

They were distracted from further conversation by a wide rock formation on the far side of the landing platform. Several meters tall at its highest point, it looked like it was made up of numerous pillars of dark stone, jutting upwards out of the ground and ending in flat, irregular shapes. The lower ones around the edge held small pools of water from the last high tide, but they were taller towards the middle and beyond a certain point the tops were smooth and dry. The beach continued around the edge, the sand stretching between the rocks and the sea, but the Ghost and the overseer droid’s hut were hidden from view.

They approached the rocks with interest. Kanan was only half-aware of Hera’s hand slipping out of his as he went to examine one of the rockpools and so didn't notice the mischievous look that had come over her face. By the time he realised she was no longer beside him, she had already removed the outer layer of her flight suit and folded neatly atop one of the dry pillars. He could only watch, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as she quickly and methodically worked on the rest of her clothing.

Hera carefully added her cap and goggles to the pile she had formed and then looked up at him. His heart beat faster at the sight of so much bare green skin. With a coy smile, she held his gaze as she slipped her underwear off and let it join the rest of her clothes.

“Fancy a swim?”

She didn’t wait for an answer; Kanan wasn’t sure he was capable of giving one. She turned and ran over the beach, lekku streaming behind her, splashing into the water until it was up to her neck.

She turned back to him and yelled “Well? Are you coming?”

It was enough to jolt him out of his shock. He’d left his armour behind today, so his shirt came off easily. The rest of his clothes followed in a somewhat messier pile than Hera’s, but creases weren’t on the forefront of his mind at that moment.

Kanan took off at a sprint towards the sea. When he was about halfway to the water he leapt, giving himself an extra push that made it higher and further than a leap any ordinary human should have been able to make. Tucking his knees into his chest in mid-air, he hit the surface with a splash, sending a wall of water over Hera. The cool water enveloped his body with swirls of white and blue. He kicked at the sandy sea bed to surface next to Hera, who was sputtering in protest.

Kanan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

“You did invite me in,” he reminded her. His sodden hair was slicked back against his head and water dripped from the end of his nose. Further droplets ran over Hera's bare head and down her lekku, adding to the patterns already there.

“I didn’t ask for a tsu–”

He cut off her complaints with a wet kiss. She relaxed in his arms a second later, though he knew he had’t gotten away with it; she’d be planning her payback for later. He smiled against her lips and felt her mouth curve upwards in response. It really had been too long since they’d been able to just let go like this, to enjoy their time together and not have any pressing worries or responsibilities.

The kiss deepened, and Hera’s legs wound around his waist. Whoever's idea this had been, he thought to himself, it was definitely a good one.

[happy-beeeps]

Buzzcut Season 1: Starlight Boy

As war rages on between the Republic and the Separatists, a different kind of war rages for Captain Rex. His fight is for the woman he loves, is forbidden to love, and for her protection. After the senate decides the aging senator of Lyra and his socialite daughter are no longer in need of the protection they once gave them, Rex is faced with a challenge greater than one he had ever faced on the battlefield. How do you protect someone when you’re half a galaxy away, and how do you love them?

Pairing: socialite!reader x Rex

Warnings: NA, angst for like .7 seconds, also I make dogtags canon

A/N: hi everyone!! I’m so excited to be back writing! I just graduated from undergrad and have been getting situated from grad school, so it’s been a stressful few months. Writing has been the thing that gave me joy, and I’ve really been itching to write a longer fic. This one is in the same storyline as my other two Rex fics, but this one is going to be lots of parts and chronological. I’m really excited, stay tuned!

It’s colder than it was supposed to be at this time of year. Walking quickly, you pulled the warm overcoat tighter around your shoulders as you faced the bitter chill hanging in the air over Courscant. The bitter chill seemed to mimic the feeling of the streets, the ever growing threat of war looming overhead. The gray hum of the city seemed to contrast the always cyan sky overhead, that forced picturesque reality that the center of the Republic liked to keep itself under. You loved it here, yet found it stifling. Though, you’d take the watchful eye of the Coruscant tabloids and the suffocation of the guard over the oppressive watch of your home system.

Lyra was known for its beauty, cascading mountains and waterfalls next to black sand beaches and beautiful ice blue lagoons. The system’s beauty had long attracted tourists and settlers, and the system was a mix of cultures galaxy wide. Lyran culture itself was somewhat antiquated, placing heavy weight on societal expectations and order. As the Senator, your father had the majority of the planet, and while he worked in Coruscant, your mother, the elected Queen, oversaw day to day functions, and was very keen on keeping Lyran society pure of Republic interaction. You were surprised your father even decided to join the Republic. You had talked about it before you came with him to Coruscant, “Your mother and I agree on many things,” he had said. “Diplomacy and growth are not one of them.”

Still, you were grateful for the decision, and his allowance in letting you come to Coruscant, much to your mother’s dismay. It ended up being the safest choice, after your ship had been attacked twice in opposition to Lyra’s move to the Republic, and a third the day you left for Coruscant. You thrived under chaos. Chaos brought you new friends, a home to call your own. Most importantly, it brought you Rex. Thinking his name brought a smile to your lips, and a content hum broke through under your breath. This drew the attention of your companion, a modified protocol droid called CD390, who you affectionately referred to as “CeeDee.” She was a gift from your father, and the two of you worked tirelessly to modify her so she had more personality, and less protocol. She was your constant companion. CeeDee had been with you since your coming-of-age presentation so many cycles ago, and she was with you now as you walked through a crowded market on the upper levels of Coruscant.

“You’re thinking about him again, I can guess?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My intuition has improved since you’ve modified me, I can tell with almost 100% accuracy when you are lying.”

You smiled back at the droid's silvery reflection. “I suppose you never said who,”

If CeeDee could glare at you, she would. “I do not need to. You already know.”

You grinned at your companion’s intellect. She was always right, particularly when it came to Rex. He and his squad had been assigned as your personal security detail when you arrived on system, and he had been there through it all. Every drunken night coming home from the club, every fancy dinner that left you starving and craving something greasy. Kriff, from that first moment you kissed in your apartment only a few rotations ago, your feelings threatened to burst through your chest anytime he came into the room. After the events of that night, it seemed he was finding excuses to be near you whenever possible, not that you could say you minded. Keeping your relationship under wraps was challenging, but exciting.

“CeeDee, that’s why we’re here. I want to get him something small, General Skywalker let slip that they’re going on long term missions again starting soon.” You said, trying to hide your disappointment that he hadn’t told you himself.

“You’re upset?”

Evidently you hadn’t hid it that well. “Well of course, he’s going back into battle.” You lied.

“No, you’re upset he didn’t tell you himself. Why are we getting him something?”

Sometimes you wished you had the emotional capacity of a droid. “Because, he doesn’t need to tell me everything, it’s not like we’re ‘together’ yet,” you ran a hand through your hair as you spit the last words out a little more forcefully than expected, “and I want to be polite, he’s been watching me for weeks.”

“I saw you two last night. You seemed together to me.” She tuts, mechanic joints one step behind you. “He should be thanking you for getting shot at all the time, this is the longest leave of any kind the 501st Battalion has had since the war started.”

“Thanks Cee, I’ll be sure to tell him.” You paused in front of a shop advertising it specialized in Lyran designed art, and peered through the window. Perfect. Pulling CeeDee by the wrist into the small glass storefront, you stopped to breathe in the smell of needle fir trees and warm hot spring water. The shop reminded you so much of the architecture of home, the wooden floors and sweeping spiraled trimmings on the walls. There were paintings of the mountains and beaches alongside racks of metal chains and wooden carvings. You spied a rack of gowns in one corner as well, and made a note to stop by when you had more time. The shopkeeper, a pink-skinned humanoid woman smiled at you as she looked up from the piece she was currently working on, bowing slightly as she made note of you. You paused before in front of a jewelry case, inspecting the designs below.

“Lyra’s darling has found her way into my shop! What brings you in today?” 

“I was hoping to pick up this chain,” you said, hands pointing down to one of the chains hanging just in front of the counter. It was a thick silverish metal, with a small medallion of Lyra’s goddess of protection attached to it. 

“Excellent choice! May I ask who my lady is shopping for?.

“Just a friend”

“Well, the friend is very lucky I think.” She smiled, sending a knowing wink your way. “I have a small piece I can attach to the back, for your friend, of another particular goddess.” She said, showing you a tiny portrait of the goddess of love. It was beautiful, you had to admit. Maybe you would hold off on the explanation of that part for now when you gave it to him. 

You hummed in contemplation for a moment before nodding and handing over a handful of credits. What he didn't know wouldn’t hurt him.

* * *

The suns began to set in the sky, and the market was hedged by towering shadows of the buildings around as you and CeeDee exited the store. You walked back in the direction of your speeder, and began to see its baby blue paint peek out from where you had left it. As if on cue, your wrist comm blinged before the sound of Rex’s voice emerged. “Princess, where are you?”

You grinned as you responded back, “I thought I told you you don't have to call me princess,”

“And I thought I told you it was dangerous to go out alone right now.”

“I’m not alone, I have CeeDee!”

“She doesn’t count-“

“And I know there’s been a shinie following me almost the whole time since I left my apartment.” At this, a trooper who had been several paces behind you straightened up, and you waved in his direction. He shrugged, rather embarrassed to be caught, and stuck his head down. “You forget how easy you guys are to see with your buckets on.” He only laughed in response and you added, “is… General Skywalker there? I’d love to say hello,”

“I’m alone princess.” You could practically hear the smirk on his voice as he answered the question he knew you were really asking.

“Is my captain still coming by for dinner tonight?” You asked, fiddling with your hands. You felt like a schoolgirl, giddy with pining.

“If you’re asking if I’m coming by to make sure you’re safe and guarded, absolutely. And I’ll tell you what,”

“What?”

“I ought to stay the night, just for, you know, security purposes.”

“Right,” you blushed, “security purposes.”

“Does 17:00 work?”

“Absolutely, I’ll have dinner done by then.”

“Ok. Till then my lady.”

“Till then.”

You switched your comm off and looked back over your shoulder at CeeDee. 

“If my programming allowed me to roll my eyes, I would be.”

* * *

“Good evening boys,” you said as you walked up to the door of your quarters. As always, there were two men standing there, at this moment it was a Lyran guard brought over with you and your father, and one of your favorite clones, Fives. 

“Hello beautiful,” Fives said, adding a dramatic flourish as he opened the door for you. 

“You’re too kind really,” you chided back over your shoulder as he lingered in the door,

“Maybe I’m just saying that because being on door duty is kliks better than running training modules.” 

Your back stiffened at that remark, and you tried to be nonchalant as you continued, “so you guys are leaving soon?” 

The pause in the room was loud as he stumbled through his words, “well, yeah, but I just sorta figured Cap had told you since you guys are… friendly?” He said, with a raised eyebrow.

You laughed in spite of your agitation, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fives grabbed the bags from your hands and set them down on the kitchen counter, slowly inspecting the amount of food in each bag. 

“Sure… because this is a normal amount of groceries for one meal for one woman.” You gently smacked his gauntlet as he took off his helmet, “Look. I’m not gonna say it's right of him to not tell you we’re going back out, but I’m sure he has his reasons. I know you guys are doing whatever this is,” he gestured to the pile of groceries and the little green bag on the counter, “but I also know he cares about you a lot. He talks about you all the time, like we get it, we’ve been with you all day for weeks, but c’mon, I love hanging out with you but I get bored of you.” 

You scoffed in fake hurt as you busied yourself by chopping vegetables, “and to think you were one of my favorites of his brothers,”

“Well I am the best choice, but still. Don’t be upset with him, he always has a reason for being weird. That's just Rex”

“Ok. Thanks Fives,”

“Don’t mention it.” He headed towards the door and tugged the Lyran soldier out with him, and you waved as he shut the door.

CeeDee rolled towards the charging port in the corner. “Well, I’m going to your office, and I’m going to power down, I don’t wanna be conscious for any of the night.”

* * *

Something you had learned to love since leaving the ironclad grip of your home was cooking. It soothed you to cut and chop and toss ingredients together. It soothed you to pour all your love into something and give it some you loved in turn. Love–is that what this was? You weren’t sure you had ever really been in love before. Sure, there had been flings and kisses, but love? That was off the table, not until Rex. You hadn’t heard the quick knock on your door and the access key scanning in, so when you felt a pair of gloved hands on your waist you jumped a bit in surprise. “Kriff I almost dropped this!” You hissed, careful to place the warm dish on the counter next to you. 

“Is there a special occasion?” Rex hummed from behind you, his voice slightly modulated and tinny from the sound of his bucket. 

You turned around to face him, caged in against the counter with his arms on either side of you. “No reason,” you began, carefully lifting your arms up to take the helmet off of his head. With one swift motion he was free, tufts of short blonde hair poking out against his tanned skin. “Just thought I’d treat you to a nice day is all.” He chuckled a little bit before reaching down to grab your knuckles, giving them a quick kiss. He murmured into them as he brought your hand up to eye level. 

“Fives said you were mad at me.” You groaned and threw your hands up in exasperation at that, before turning around to put the finishing touches on the dish you had just finished preparing. 

“I’m not mad. I’m a little upset.”

“So… you know we’re leaving again?”

“I’ve known for nearly a week.”

“Kriff… ok look princess, I’m sorry I just, I didn’t know what to do,”

“I just would’ve liked to have a heads up, you know? I mean, the way Anakin has been going on about it it sounds like you leave tomorrow,”

“Not exactly tomorrow,” he said, helping you carry the dishes to the table you had meticulously set. There were always fresh flowers in your home, but he noted these were even newer than last time he was here. You spun around on your heel to look the squirming clone captain in the eyes.

“Then when?”

“Two days.”

“You’re kidding me, Rex I-“

“Listen,” he said, walking back over to you and pulling you in towards his chest. You hated when he still had his armor on, the plastoid felt hard and unforgiving, it hid him from you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Not used to a girl caring about me. No one really cares where I go.” 

You looked up at him at that, “people care about you,”

He hummed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Not the way you do.”

“Rex,” you sighed, leading him back towards the table, I don’t think I ever won’t worry. I worry about you even when you run recon. But I’d rather know what I’m worrying about.” 

He pulled you into his lap with one leg on each side of his thighs as he sat down at the table, and placed his head on the crook of your shoulder. “I know, I know. It’s only supposed to be a few days, no longer than a week, and I’m giving you my comm channel. This,” he gestured between the two of you, “is still technically not happening, but it wouldn’t be unheard of if someone previously in Jedi protection was contacting the squad that was watching them, so I’ll comm you when I think it’s safe.”

You kissed his cheek before standing up from his lap, “Let’s eat before everything gets cold, yeah? We have all night to talk about logistics.”

* * *

You two had just finished up dishes and you were giving Rex a second to wash up from the day's training. He always preferred your fresher to the ones in the barracks, all light quartz and the high powered shower. You were sitting on your balcony now, watching the speeders fly by as you gnawed on your lip. Was the pendant too much? There wasn’t even a label on your relationship yet, and you had never even said the words before. Stars, you weren’t even sure if that’s what you felt yet. Adoration? Absolutely. Attraction? Sure. But love? You had only been seeing one another that way for what felt like weeks, maybe over a month. Still, the progression of everything was moving at a rate much quicker than any boyfriend you had on Lyra. Of the few you were allowed to be courted by. The thought of your bureaucratic mother looking over the file of Rex as she did all your other partners back home, and then deciding whether he would be able to court you made you giggle. He was rough around the edges, sure, but he was yours and you were his, and the galactic crisis happening both above and back home couldn’t change that.

“Someone’s thinking,” Rex murmured, appearing through the pane door in some of the civvies you had bought to keep here. He looked incredible with the low slung sweat pants dipping low on his hips and a tight white shirt stretched over his broad chest. The chill was back in Coruscant, and you were glad you had thrown a robe over your silky night dress. 

“Dangerous, I know,” you smirked as he pulled up a chair across from you. You swung your feet up on his lap and watched as he moved his fingers to delicately trace mindless patterns into your shins. You could stay like this forever, catching in the warm browns and ambers of his eyes against the inky black canvas of Coruscant night. Even with all the signs and speeders and stars above and he was still the brightest thing in your galaxy. You reached over for just a moment, to run your hands along his short white-blonde buzzcut before smiling at him. “My starlight boy.” 

You stayed like that for a moment, two lovesick people staring hopelessly into each-other’s eyes, until you struggled down a laugh. “What’s so funny?” He asked, smiling a bit in turn.

“I’m just thinking how pathetic we look right now, just gazing into each other’s eyes.” He laughed at that before leaning closer to you, causing your legs to land back on the ground. 

“Let me look, missions are only getting longer,” he said, before pulling your face into his and capturing you in a kiss. He smelled like fresh aftershave and something very him, his breath like fresh, cold  mint against yours, warm from wine and feelings. You were like a shot of stim to him, so pure and sweet, his princess. 

“I’ve got a present for you,” you murmured as you pulled out of the kiss. 

“Oh really? So it is a special occasion,”

“In a way, I wanted to just get you something while you're gone.” You said, and presented him with the bag from the market. He tried to hide the eager look on his face as he grabbed the bag and found the box inside. He opened it to reveal the chain, and the small square pendant down at the bottom. He pulled it up to his eyes to inspect it, and traced his thumb over the small drawing of a winged woman, she had a blindfold around her eyes and a shield in front of her. “She’s our goddess of protection,” you said, standing up behind him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders before pressing soft kisses to his temple. “Just a little something to make sure you come back to me, that’s all.” He turned over his shoulder to pull you in for another kiss, this one sweeter, with the longing of someone who has barely a day before he becomes a soldier again. He turned the piece over in his hands and looked at the other woman, she had one wing and was surrounded by a halo, clutching a beautiful flower across her chest. 

“Who’s she?” He asked, and you blushed. 

“She's just a goddess that works with her sometimes,” you said. If he could tell you were lying he didn’t push it. 

“I love it, I’m gonna wear it under my blacks. Thank you.” He said, giving you a kiss on your cheek. 

“Now, it’s your turn,” and he pulled you back onto his lap. He leaned over towards the table and grabbed the small brown parcel you hadn’t noticed. “ s’not much, we’re not salaried so I don’t have a ton in the way of credits,” he trickled off, but you hadn’t heard him. Inside the parcel was a long black shirt, you recognized it as one of his lounge blacks, and another chain, with tags on the bottom reading CT 7567, Captain. His ID tags. He had explained before that it was standard for clones to wear, something to help the natborns who didn’t work as closely with each squadron to know who was who. “I think Skywalker knows who I am without having to see my tags,” he said against your ear, “and I dunno, Senator Amidala had mentioned once when I was talking with her and Ashoka how women sometimes like having a shirt to sleep in from a man, so, you know… shirt.” You grinned from ear to ear before wrapping your arms around his neck for a tight hug. There was something so endearing about knowing that he had talked to women, two separate women, trying to get you something nice. 

“This is perfect, it’s great, I love it!” You said before pulling back and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “It’s just great, I, I love-“ as you began to speak a loud chime came from Rex’s wrist. 

“It’s the general’s direct line.” He said, looking at you with panicked eyes, you breathed a little and steadied your breath before responding. 

“You better answer it.” You gave him a weak smile, and he nodded before clicking it. You watched as a little holo of Anakin appeared on his wrist. “Rex, I’m sorry, urgent mission update, plans are changing, you have an hour to get to the hangar, we need to go as soon as possible.”

“Ok, ok I’ll be there as quickly as I can. I’m going to comm the senator’s daughter. She wanted to say goodbye to everyone before we left.”

“Tell her to hurry, we can’t wait long.” Anakin said with a knowing look before signing off. 

Rex looked up at you and said, “I want you there when we leave, just so I know what I’ve got waiting for me,” you smiled and pulled him in for a quick kiss, “well then I guess I better go change.”

[queen-susans-revenge]

Star Wars Rebels season 3 recaps

"Warhead"

So as I finished this episode my main thought was how excited I was for the accompanying chapter of Fade to Red, because Hera and Kanan are offscreen for almost the whole ep. Sooooo much room for fic to play!

And then chapter 14 turns out to be a lovely, languid, playful (and very NSFW) episode that had me in tears again by the end of it, with the sweetness of it. With thinking once again about how they had that, dammit, they must have had that.

Here's my notes from watching the show:

We open on a pair of Star Destroyers releasing a bunch of odd looking capsules. They've got ignition and apparently hyperdrive? One lands, presumably by chance, on Atollon and releases what looks like a protocol droid. Apparently it is in fact a spy droid because it immediately becomes interested in the signs of Rebel activity around.

However, the hostile wildlife of Atollon in this case works to the rebels' advantage, as a pair of those clacky spider things (Wookieepedia tells me they're called krykna) ambush the droid.

Cut to Hera being the boss lady. "Hobbie, Wedge, let's go, move it! We're behind schedule, Phoenix Squadron!" They're off to do some kind of training exercise. Zeb's annoyed that he can't go too, but Hera informs him that as her chief of security—is that a promotion for Zeb? Nice—he needs to stay behind with the droids and guard the base.

"Carry on, Captain Orrelios," Sabine says cheerfully as she and the rest of the Spectres take off on the Ghost. I don't understand how ranks work here because Hera is clearly in charge of Zeb but I think she's the same rank?

And here's where I paused the ep and spent an hour falling down a rabbit hole on Google.

Okay so Hera is promoted to General in season four (offscreen, between episodes 8 and 9). Before that her rank is a little hazy, because as captain of her own ship she's an informal "captain" whether or not she's also a Captain in the military structure of the Rebel Alliance. In season two we saw her promoted to Phoenix Leader. Does that come with a rank? Well, Kanan made a big deal of calling her Captain Hera, laying stress on the title, and adding a salute.

So then I was like, all right, maybe she got another promotion offscreen and is now Captain First Class or something like that, I have no idea, is that a thing? So now I'm on the U.S. Navy's website looking up ranks and fun fact: the Navy doesn't have generals! The only rank above a Captain in the Navy is an Admiral.

The Rebel Alliance definitely has admirals, and most of the terms they use seem to be naval: the ships travel in fleets, etc. But the Army has generals, and they have captains too!

Back to Wookieepedia. WHAT kind of command structure are we dealing with here. Okay there is a category for Galactic Alliance ranks, but it needs some updating, it's almost empty and missing things like captains and generals. The military ranks page mixes Imperial and Alliance terms and doesn't have any kind of breakdown of command hierarchy, BUT I do spot a canonical reference to a "captain third class!"

So great, that's enough for a headcanon anyway. Hera is a Captain something class and Zeb is a lesser rank of captain, and now I can go back to watching the show although I really want to know whether Kanan and Ezra have ranks? I don't think so, because Rex keeps getting tripped up on what to call Kanan, and because these are our new Jedi who aren't making the same old mistakes. Kanan won't have forgotten what his master taught him:

[image id: a panel from the first issue of the Kanan comic book. Depa Billaba is shown saying, "I believe the Jedi order made a crucial error in taking military titles."]

But does Sabine have a rank? You guys don't wear uniforms or anything, how is anybody supposed to tell?

ANYway. Closing nine tabs, I return to the show.

"Did they seriously leave YOU in charge of this entire facility?" AP-5 sneers at Zeb. This droid is very good at sneering, and Chopper takes the chance to join in.

Zeb, understandably pissed, refuses the opportunity to conduct an inventory of the supply depot with AP-5. Chopper ain't interested either.

Zeb goes to the command center instead, where we see that he's not REALLY all alone on the base with the droids. There's like some dudes in helmets here too. See, those guys are wearing uniforms!

The dudes in helmets tell Zeb that they're picking up what looks like a meteor strike, and it's knocked out one of the perimeter sensors. So Zeb takes Chopper to go check it out, and finds the infiltrator droid: the spiders have left it in a disabled state. Since it doesn't have Imperial markings, he's not sure what it is. Over Chopper's objections he brings it back to the base.

Chopper gets a really cute moment where he gets to grumble-beep in the exact tones and cadence as: "I've got a baaaaaaad feeling about this."

Back aboard a Star Destroyer, Kallus is alerted that one of the infiltrator droids has dropped out of communication. He plays down the information and delays notifying command.

Back on Atollon, Zeb brings the disabled infiltrator to AP-5, who doesn't recognize it either but is able to reboot it. It's got some damage to its memory circuits and declares its designation "unknown," and then immediately proceeds to scan and inventory the entire munitions depot in a matter of seconds. "He's better at your job than YOU are!" Zeb crows.

AP-5 concludes that the newcomer is "a logistics droid," and claims it as an assistant. Chopper still doesn't like it though, and the feeling is mutual.

Zeb is called back to the command center for a priority message. It's Kallus (behind Fulcrum protocols), warning about the infiltrator droid. Zeb races back to the droids just in time to see the infiltrator go into full scary destroyer mode. "Designation, Imperial Infiltrator droid EXD-9. Assignment: Atollon. Target: Rebels."

Fight time! Zeb takes the brunt of the heat, but good ol' Chopper wades in bravely with his electroprod too. They manage to damage EXD-9 and it withdraws.

AP-5 wants to contact Captain Syndulla. (So definitely a captain! could still be a captain somethingth class though! I am really fighting the urge to go look up whether higher or lower is better here. It would be Captain First Class if she was at the top of a captaincy hierarchy, right?) But Zeb insists that everyone needs to track the droid and prevent it from returning with its data to the Empire. And to his credit, it's the right call.

They track the droid by its leaking fluids, but that trail ends with a dismembered astromech. EXD-9 cannibalized it for parts and has repaired itself. This scene is kinda spooky-cool.

Chopper can't pick up the signal of EXD-9's power core, so they conclude that it's still damaged and will be looking for more parts. Zeb gets the bright idea of using Chopper as bait to lure it out. AP-5 points out that Zeb should probably stop firing his bo rifle in a munitions depot, so they're going to have to rassle the thing instead.

Chopper does a really great job with his part of the plan, which I would like to point out required quite a lot of bravery. The "wrestling EXD-9" part of the plan turns out to be significantly dicier, but eventually they manage it and AP-5 is able to shut it down. The droids are forced to admit that Zeb's plan worked.

The last third of the episode is filled out with some business involving a failsafe timer/bomb embedded in EXD-9. Oh no, it's counting down! Chopper saves the day by...literally just spraying the countdown clock with some kind of ice spray that "freezes" it? Okay.

Then Zeb remembers Kallus warned him that if the droid stays out of communication for too long, the Imperials are gonna come looking for it. So he wants to wipe its memory and wake it back up, but AP-5 says any attempt to tamper with the memory will make the bomb go off. He also can't disarm the warhead, but conveniently, he CAN change the trigger mechanism. This all seems very fudged but the upshot is that the Rebels are able to make it so EXD-9 will still have all its data from Atollon, but blow up as soon as it connects to an Imperial network.

"Maybe even take some more of these droids with it," Zeb muses hopefully. "The Empire will never know which one it was!" Zeb, that's a HELL of an assumption to make.

Okay so this idea rests mostly on Zeb's wishful thinking, but AP-5 declares himself stunned by its brilliance. Chopper tries to register some objections but they're dismissed.

They restart EXD-9 with the frozen timer set to twenty seconds. (It's not going to "unfreeze" when the ice spray wears off?) EXD-9 goes back into protocol-droid mode and waddles amiably back to its ship...but it's got a long range transmitter! It'll be able to send its data back without returning to base! So Zeb has to shoot the transmitter, which he does, and then EXD-9 flies off. (It's not going to notice any funny business about that big red timer on its front chest?)

This all seems unconvincing, but everyone exchanges compliments and metaphorical high fives, and Zeb and AP-5 have earned a grudging respect for each other. I'm not convinced the tale of how Zeb and AP-5 earned a grudging respect for each other is a story that was really screaming out to be told, but sure.

Conveniently, Zeb's plan works insofar as the droid reports back to a Star Destroyer but then explodes before it can it transmit its data, dealing significant damage to the ship in the process. (It's also REALLY convenient that there are actually two Star Destroyers doing this infiltrator droid pod-drop thing, and Kallus happens to be in the other one.)

As it is, Kallus is impressed and turned on. The corner of his lips gives a tiny smirk as he watches the flames dance.

The Ghost returns to Atollon with the rest of the Spectres. Hera's not happy: "Okay, what happened that you called me back on day ONE of the exercise?"

Zeb's about to sheepishly confesses the hijinks when...another priority transmission cuts in. Fulcrum purrs about how well the brilliant counterintel mission went, unwittingly doing Zeb a solid in that moment.

But then we're back with Kallus in person. And he has to go report to Thrawn. "How did this happen, Agent Kallus?"

Kallus is smart enough not to attempt any misdirection here. "I suspect the rebels captured a unit in the field and reprogrammed it to self-destruct upon its return to base. Quite ingenious, really."

Thrawn is pleased, both with this answer and with the outcome of the infiltrator droid deployment mission in general. Despite the loss of a bunch of men and droids and maybe a Star Destroyer (how many of those things does the Empire HAVE?), Thrawn's now narrowed down the location of the Rebel base considerably. The droids were only targeting about a hundred different systems at a time, and now he knows it's got to be on one of them.

This is a good, effective scene for Thrawn, and a strong close to an episode that was otherwise stitched together out of plot holes and convenience.

[shouldntcryoverit]

the art of discordance

captain rex x jedi fic during clones wars era...

CHAPTER TWO

Pure chaos resonated as the small team fought to overcome the controls. The panic bubbling over from the separatist attack didn’t diminish as the smaller ship shot through lightspeed, leaving three half crazed jedi, a few clones, and one injured general.

“Turn the power back on! Turn it on!” Jaida yelled into the cockpit. The victory of avoiding the burning sun they were previously on course to crash straight into was short lived as they swerved dangerously close to another planet.

“I’m... trying!” Aayla groaned, hand outstretched to the lever. It clunked downwards and Jaida, Rex and Aayla fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

The ship plummeted towards the ground, having lost all control over the engines. Smoke encased them through a straight course at least an inch into the growth, leaving a scorched dent in their path. The clones and jedi scrambled to get out the burning wreckage of the ship, though when they all collapsed in relief, they found their situation to be no better.

Anakin was in a bad condition, one that looked to be deteriorating quickly. Ahsoka and Jaida carried him to rest under a makeshift tent, but the young padawan didn’t move as he lay unconscious. Jaida watched with concerned eyes, for her friend yes, but also for the young togruta that shuffled anxiously. The pair hadn’t spoken much; Ahsoka had spent her time training or at the temple whereas Jaida remained very much rooted in battle rooms, but the times they did spend with each other Jaida found the kid’s attitude refreshing. She knew why Anakin spoke so highly of her.

“he’ll be okay kid” Rex reassured. Ahsoka nodded solemnly and sighed, walking forward to talk over her master.

“Jaida and Rex will watch over you, be strong master” the togruta uttered, before resuming her position beside the knights.

The two watched as the rest of the group ran off into the tall grass, leaving them to stand in silence.

Jaida let out a shaky breath as she folded onto the ground, Anakins feet in front of her.

Rex spoke first “he will be okay, sir” it was an attempt to reassure her, though she had not admitted she was worried.

Her response was another huff of breath, followed by a hand running through her hair.

“Anakin has always had the ability to bounce back from injuries, it seems even his body is too stubborn to stop fighting” her words fell heavy as she watched her friend’s chest rise and fall slowly.

Rex’s smile settled “you care more than you let on, don’t you?”

Her eyes lifted from Anakin’s form and met his in a rigid glare. Rex regretted his boldness instantly, but her eyes softened in admission.

“i saw your order” he continued bravely “the men wondered were it all came from” he was referring to the extra order of cotten blankets she had placed a week previously. Rex assumed it was out of compassion as she realised the coldness of the Resolute.

“good, men work better if they actually manage a decent night sleep” She got up and brushed herself down, peaking her head around the corner to check for any signs. Rex felt a twinge in his stomach of her disregard; her kind act now seemed tainted as nothing more than a battle strategy, and it left a bad taste on his tongue.

Rex took a moment actually size up the new general. Her robes were similar to Skywalker’s, but they fitted her form more. She wore black boots and gloves up to her elbow, her collarbone hidden with the same material. Her hair was lighter in the sun, but Rex could still see the way it framed her face and fell loosely from its plaited hold. Her face was still set in that expression of neutrality, though it broke slightly as the hint of serenity curved her alluring lips. Her eyes were young and bright, full of a mixture of gold and blue.

Before she could say anything else, a roar broke the silence, followed by the pounding footsteps of two animals.

Rex shot up, blasters ready, and Jaida ignited her duel blade. They shared a look of panic, before they each dove away to block or attack whatever strike came at them.

After quite some struggle, the pair had overcome their attackers, and the two animals lay dead on the ground. Before the interruption, Jaida had felt a new sense of gratitude towards the captain. That maybe she had misjudged his professionalisms and could enjoy his company further than what protocol dictated. It was when Rex propped himself up that Anakin groaned awake. At the noise, Jaida hurried to his aid.

“Anakin! You okay?” she helped him sit up. He groaned once more and faultered against his injuries.

“this mission- sucks” he managed. As he came to, the surroundings became clearer. “you look like hell”

“always a charmer” she grinned as he helped him up.

“what happened to the others?” Skywalker quizzed

“the went to look for help, actually they should be back soon.”

“so we don’t have a ship, communication or supplies, great” Anakin grumbled

“negativity doesn’t suit you”

“you got a better outlook?” before Jaida could reply to his question, the rest of their team stumbled out of the grass, along with a new companion.

By the time it took to take Anakin back to the village, his condition had deteriorated. Jaida couldn’t budge the irrational feeling in her stomach, but held face as Ahsoka trudged next to her.

“I understand staying neutral, but really? i mean you gotta have an opinion at least!” she ranted

“some people just don’t care about what doesn’t involve them” Jaida countered absentmindedly

“selfish”

“perhaps”

They made it to the village, and despite the old chief’s disgruntled disagreement they were allowed to seek refuge. It was no retreat, that was for certain, but Ahsoka for one felt entirely more secure knowing that her master was getting the medical attention he so desperately needed.

He was whisked away by the village medic almost as soon as they arrived, and the three Jedi left remained cautious of theyre situation.

Time passed, with Ahsoka helping a few villagers carry out daily tasks, and Jaida scouting the near area; it actually felt like time had stopped. There was a peacefulness that none of the visitors had experience in such a long time, for clones maybe never. Rex had never been able to sit and watch as children laughed and played, without thinking about how he should escape if need be. It was tranquil and calm, and it made Rex think.

When Jaida returned, she returned quickly.

“Ahsoka! Tell Aayla we’re gonna have company!” her shouted alerted the relaxed captain into a far more rigid standing.

“who is it?” Bly questioned with furrowed brows

“seppies”

—————————————————-

Everytime she looked his way there was something that sparked, or snapped maybe - he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t anything good, but he doubted that it was hate. Rex just couldn’t stand the feeling he gave her. So he figured he couldn’t stand her.

It was no different now as the pair waited behind the stacks of nut pods for the enemy to near. A plan had been formulated after they left the village so quickly, and by seeing the extent ifthe seperatist forces it was no wonder they had scrambled to do so. Jaida had already irked him today, by seeming so unbothered by the idea of a new ion canon, one that was able to wipe out all organic matter.

His distractions dissipated when the first shot flew past his head. That was certainly enough to wipe his mind. He ducked behind a pod and began shooting, knocking droids down like a pin ball game at 79s.

The disctractions, those that humanised into the form of a woman standing of few metres to his left, seemed to have a mind of their own. Jaida slunked away from her position, and walked straight out into the battlefield. Rex grinded his teeth as she put away her lightsaber. He had to remind himself that yes she was putting herself in unecessary danger, and that no, that wasn’t what he was angry about.

“im sure your a smart man” Jaida called out, hands calmly behind her back “there’s certainly a more pleasant way to deal with situations” the words fell fruitlessly off her tongue.

“what’s she doing?” Bly muttered with spite, though Aayla dismissed his question with a wave of her hand.

“don’t try to trick me, jedi”

“there is no trick. You are the one with canon of course” she smiled coldly at the separatist, patronism seeping through her tone “although, if we do manage to reach an agreement, your day might just turn out swell”

“was that a threat?!” the hast in his voice caused a loud clunk to be heard as the droids aimed they’re guns once more.

“nope” Jaida said, popping the ‘p’, just before a clankers took a shot, and she dodged it. Perfectly.

It looked like some sort of game on the holonet, Jaida avoiding each bullet carelessly and without struggle, as if they bent around her path instead. She reached a safe distance, and smiled pleasantly, reaching into a pocket behind her back and drawing a small explosive. She threw it into the canon opening, and the problem was solved with a rattling boom.

Her solution did work, but Rex still kept a stern look. Even when the support ships finally rescued them.

He kept it until she rested beside him, both standing against a wall bored and tired.

“you look tired” he commented

“hm” Jaida’s eyes never left the datapad she was staring at. “you should get some rest too, it’s been a long few days” she deliberated carelessly. When the captain didn’t reply she turned her head to face him.

“what is it?”

The captain tittered antagonisingly “why is it that you always have to go off script?”

Jaida looked at him with a more confused look than anger.

“i saved those villagers, you know that was my only intention?” her tone was clear, informative.

“you do never fail to keep battles interesting” Rex quipped

“i think i’ll take that as a compliment” she grimaced

“perhaps you should”

She spoke after a moment of pregnant silence. “captain if there’s something you have to say i suggest you say it”

“with all due respect, you ought to realise that you have a responsibility to your men, to yourself even” he began after a beat.

“it isn’t something i’ve failed to notice”

“you brash, careless- you act like you have nothing to loose”

“we’re fighting a war” Jaida countered

“and we don’t need anymore casualties than we already have” Rex’s voice was no longer as angry as it began, now growing colder as exasperation clawed at his tired mind.

Rex paused, taking a deep breath of his own and trying to rid himself of his own irrational and unprofessional nags.

“i am not a liability, you need to trust me” she was stern now. It wasn’t that the captain had irked her, his anger came from a very real place, but she was just annoyed that she couldn’t find the words to calm it.

“and you need to trust that we know what we’re doing, even without your last minute strategies”

Silence. Jaida clicked her tongue, acceptance though Rex didn’t know to recognise it.

“goodnight general”

She locked eyes with him once more. A second passed, before he left her in silence.

He didn’t hate her. That he knew for sure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hope you liked this let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters! :))

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@pinkiemme

[doorsclosingslowly]

Hell is just a beat away (2/9): Keen to show you the unhappy ones below you

Despite early promise, young Maul has turned out to be a disappointment, willfully delaying his training with secret attempts to make himself friends from scrap metal. He must be properly motivated, and so Darth Sidious sends him to a slave market on an impossible mission. It backfires. (A Star Wars: Darth Maul (2017) comic  AU)

Warnings: accidental underage alcohol consumption, body horror, mention of sex slavery, violence against children, minor character death.

The attendant bends gracefully, smiling as she refills fine translucent cups. The first one is in front of Master Zalandas Fyaar, so the standard diplomatic protocol of privileging the Jedi emissary and guest apparently holds true even on this tiny corrupt world, and then comes that of the twi’lek’s own employer. The man who is Zalandas and Eldra’s new charge. His name is Martrey Woobudg, a tall harried human just like Fyaar, and the upstart frontrunner candidate for mayor of the capital of the Outer Rim planet of Teth. A second passes—a wriggling suspicion in the back of her mind, and then Eldra smooths it over—and then the beautiful twi’lek looks at Master Zalandas and bows and tops up the cup in front of Eldra, too, even though that one has barely been touched.

Woobudg and Master Zalandas pick up their drinks immediately, taking a break from hurried planning to praise the olid tea within. Eldra nibbles at the porcelain edge of her cup. The twi’lek attendant does not drink. She doesn’t even have a cup. Or a biscotti. Or a seat, and when fine hot droplets of tea splatter Eldra’s padawan tunic, and she realizes she’s actually biting down hard now on her crockery.

It’s not the fear of getting poisoned that holds Eldra back from enjoying her tea, although, considering they were called here after the third assassination attempt on Woobudg… maybe a little caution should be in order. It’s a serviceable excuse should Master Zalandas ask, anyway, even if it’s not the true reason, and neither is what Eldra privately decides is the painfully obvious and pointless braggadocio inherent in Woobudg serving imported Chandrilan tea, despite the well-publicized price-hike after last year’s ruined harvest there, and the fact that it absolutely genuinely does taste like unfiltered bantha piss. He’s serving his pricey swill to a couple of Jedi, moreover: to his protectors bound by duty, who do not revel in wealth.

It’s not that, though.

It’s not even really because this is only Eldra’s second diplomatic mission, and she’s sworn she’s going to take her job more seriously this time around. She’s going to make sure no-one, not even once, peeks in unnoticed through the doors and windows. That isn’t it either, and truthfully she’s paying attention far less than she means to.

It’s something far more petty and profane: the subtle spiced fragrance of the attendant’s perfume as she bends over Eldra to reach the china. Her dress, as expensive as the tea, made from rippling opaque silk in a slightly lighter shade of blue than the woman’s skin. It’s a fairly modest cut. Barely any flash of cleavage, despite Eldra’s vantage point. Chosen expressly for this meeting, Eldra thinks sourly, and who do you think you’re fooling?

It’s the attendant’s bearing, calm and open and as serene as any Jedi Master.

It’s the fact that Eldra’s still thinking of her as ‘the attendant’ even though she’s been flitting around the room for two hours now at least. It’s that she wasn’t introduced. It’s that she doesn’t have a cup. A biscotti. A seat.

It’s her teeth.

What would happen, Eldra wonders, if I asked her to come sit and have a drink with us? Besides the obvious, of course: Master Zalandas’ abject disappointment at Eldra’s dearth of diplomatic skill. Would the attendant keep smiling? Displaying her teeth? Or would she flinch the moment the hot nasty leaf juice hits them?

Because her teeth are white-lacquered, dainty, tiny, horrifying stumps. Eldra can’t stop looking at them. They’re almost worn down to the gums. Twice-sanded at least, probably. Once, to sharpen the natural edges further—Eldra runs her tongue over the edges of her own canines, her pointy incisors, like she’s been doing ever since researching for a class project the customs of the peoples of the polar tip of the northernmost continent of Ryloth, the place where she was told she’d been born—teeth sanded once, sharpened, and then, they were ground down again mercilessly to make them blunt.

“Another biscotti, Padawan?”

Watch your feelings, Eldra. Remember that you are a Jedi. Remember your duty. That’s what Master Zalandas means, and Eldra startles, self-conscious and guilty. She must’ve lost her bearing, been grabbing attention even with the question bitten back behind her lips. She nods, a quiet thanks for the reminder. She studies the window again, on guard for any assassin. She tells herself: this meeting is important. Martrey Woobudg is a reformer, an anti-corruption juggernaut, and his rise a chance to wrest Teth from out the criminal syndicates’ control and, ultimately, bring it into the regulatory orbit of the Republic once more. If he keeps his promises after he wins, the election will spell a sea-change for the poor, who’ll finally be able to go about their lives without paying massive bribes to every single government official they have the misfortune of meeting, and it will aid the rise of a stable middle class. It’ll keep out the Hutts, too. It’ll be a triumphant sign of progress. Woobudg is important. His safety is paramount. His fate determines the future of so many people; it’s so much bigger than the life of this one attendant. Eldra knows the brief.

And still, her eyes are drawn back to his twi’lek servant.

To his slave.

That’s why you sand down someone’s teeth until there’s barely anything left. Why you keep at it long after it hurts. Why the sharpest teeth are so popular on Ryloth in the first place.

No-one wants a sex slave capable of biting their throat out.

Dutifully, she attempts to listen again, to keep watch, but looking at Woobudg’s face it’s still all she can think of. Slaver, slaver, slaver. He’s important, and Eldra must protect him, and he’s a slaver.

Looking back at the attendant, she’s met by the serene smile again, full of awful tiny teeth.

Looking at her Master, she feels her own inadequacy.

Looking down at her own hands is no escape. They’re darker than the attendant’s, callused and oil-stained and nails half-covered with flaking black nail polish. They’re the hands of someone far too slowly growing into the knowledge that her body is a shell, a vessel, that she is a luminous being of higher purpose. They’re a Jedi’s hands, or will be, and through them the force flows and shapes the galaxy. They are the hands of someone who will know no emotion, but peace. They are the hands of someone who neither covets nor disdains expensive Chandrilan tea. They are the hands of a faithful servant of the Republic. They are the hands that will protect Woobudg from his enemies and facilitate the rise of Teth, come what may, because she knows right, and she knows duty.

She forces herself to meet Woobudg’s eyes when he looks at her, feigning attention, and hopes he didn’t just ask a question.

She fidgets with her twi’lek girl fingers.

⁂

Hiding and curled and dirty under the stranger’s ship in the now-deserted hangar, two hours after he crawled down there, Maul finally realizes he’s been underestimating his Master. This mission on Nar Shaddaa is not just a chance for the apprentice to prove himself. No, Master is wise and efficient, and he wouldn’t have a single purpose for anything He does when He could, instead, have a myriad. It’s not just a test of Maul’s skill and loyalty.

It’s also a series of lessons.

Yesterday, Maul had been so sure he knew the meaning of cold.

He’d read about it, after all, memorized all the ice worlds in the galaxy and the medical texts on hypothermia and studied the schematics of atoms bouncing ever more slowly off each other. He’d looked at holos of skin blistered and sloughing off from unwise exposure, and he’d been impressed. A little scared, maybe, and very excited to progress in his studies so one day he’d have a chance to experience winter. But Maul’s been hiding under the stranger’s ship for hours now, and Nar Shaddaa is cold. It’s not flashy, the cold, like the holos of icebergs and boiling water thrown up and coming down powder implied. It’s not exciting at all. The cold of Nar Shaddaa is quiet. It’s the floor leeching into Maul’s back and legs, until he can’t tell anymore where wet dirt ends and he begins. It’s uncontrollable shivering. It’s his nose leaking, leaking, leaking. It’s making him tired.

Mustafar bubbled and smoked, and even inside the training complex with its sophisticated uncounted layers of insulation—Maul had dug into the wall once, tunneling almost a quarter-way through with a droid’s breastplate repurposed into a shovel—even inside, during some of the periods that Maul had taken to calling ‘seasons’ after researching the planet of Naboo, it was often so warm Maul wished he was allowed to tear off his tunics, and an additional layer or two of skin with it. Sweating, panting, he’d read the word cold, and he’d wanted it badly. He’d dreamt, open-eyed, for so many hours, of himself rolling around in the cold white snow and chasing ice-weasels. But back then, on Mustafar, it was hot. And Nar Shaddaa is real, and it’s now, and it’s so so cold.

Maul can’t stay down here forever, or even for another minute. He wants to sleep. He wants to run, at the same time, to fight the Jedi apprentice until he meets victory or glorious death. He wants to have completed this mission already. He wants a lightsaber of his own, so he can hold it and bask in its warmth. He wants to sleep. Force, he wants to be asleep. He wants to wake up in his small boiling cell and realize this has all been a dream.

(He wants someone to hold his hand and say, “I’ll help you,” but that’s the most impossible thought of all.)

There is no point in wishing for anything, though. There has never been. He must act. He must stop sneezing. The slave auction will be in four days now, a short strip of time he just needs to overwinter somewhere, Maul tells himself, and even if he doesn’t want to go anywhere near Master’s Star Courier now that it has killed the teenagers that could have been Maul’s friends and the mangy brachno-jag besides, there are many other options. Many other ships. He’s curled down here, in the cold, under just such a ship.

He knows how to pick locks.

It’s not hard at all to gain entry to the ship, now that he’s thought of it. He could have done it in less than thirty seconds, if his hands were shaking less and he had the proper tools, the ones he’s been meaning to build himself for years but in Master’s complex on Mustafar there was little point and then he had to construct stilts and the vocoder-mask for his mission and he forgot—Maul could have sliced the lock in under twenty-five point five seconds, he decides, with the tools, but the ten minutes he actually fiddled with it were acceptable too, because neither the training-droids nor Master himself were there to witness it, and besides, he doesn’t have much practice yet. (He should lock the door again and re-slice it, and over and over, until he’s quick enough. He should. But there’s no-one here to watch, and Nar Shaddaa is cold…)

This one looks almost exactly like Master’s ship, on the inside. Maybe all starships do: a few red-plush benches around a low table in the main travelers’ compartment, overlooked by a massive idling viewscreen, two small side rooms with pairs of sleeping berths, a refresher with a sonic shower and a kitchenette and, most interesting of all, an unlocked engine room and a cockpit with a slightly different layout than the Star Courier had. Maul shall explore them in detail, as soon as he’s warmed up and fed and made sure there are no hidden traps in here. He didn’t dare take apart his Master’s property, but this ship belongs to someone who won’t, can’t, defend his claim against Darth Maul, heir of the Sith—soon-to-be Darth Maul, he corrects quickly—and power is the only true right in the galaxy. Through power he will gain victory, and what is victory in this situation but access to a stranger’s ship’s mechanics? A fuel tank blinks enticingly, and soon Maul shall learn its secrets.

Food first, though.

He upends his satchel over the low table and picks through his haul from the ill-fated convenience store visit. Bottles, ordered by color, to the left—a toxic orange looking one the furthest away, then brown, then the two water bottles with their beautiful waxing gibbous shape when seen from the top and the yellow labels with red writing—and the crinkly chips packages to the right, joined by the sandwiches and the jaw-mask and two pairs of huge glasses with dark lenses and wide red-black frames.

The orange drink is bitter and sickly sweet and probably poisoned, and when he pushes it away it tips over and spills all over the carpet. It deserved that ending, though. It was vile. It didn’t have the right to be drunken by a Sith Lord.

Trying to rinse the taste off his tongue is unsuccessful: the fancy water is bitter, sharp, oily, and Maul shudders. At least the sandwiches smell bright and meaty through their flimsi wrapping. They’ll mask the awful water he’ll have to sip from to avoid dehydration, and so he picks one, to devour while he explores the sitting area.

Perched in an overhead nook is a flickering holo of a weequay male kissing the top of a young weequay’s head, and he turns it off as quickly as he can.

The two blankets and five little pillows are far more welcome spoils, and so is the datapad wedged underneath one of the benches. Someone’s taped a scrap of flimsi securely to the back, too, with two neat rows of handwriting. A name, and then a series of numbers.

Maul types them into the datapad, and it lights up.

“Good evening, Johen,” the pad greets him.

There are pages opened already on the datapad, a search for restaurants on Coruscant and a school’s newsletter and—two catalogues. One of them is Grakkus’ slave auction, and Johen is already logged in.

It’s… in three days?

There must be a mistake. Master said it was in eight days, four days ago, and Master is never wrong, but there’s no slave auction on that date no matter which button Maul presses and where he navigates on the catalogue, just the one in three days, and then five days after, and another five days, and another…

Master doesn’t make mistakes. He knows everything, studied the secrets of the galaxy that the Jedi would keep suppressed, and the hidden weaknesses of far-off planets’ politicians, and every single one of Maul’s minute failures except for the secret dreams, and He would know the true date of this slave auction. He would not err, not when this mission is so vital to the grand plans of the Sith that he sent his own apprentice to complete it. He would never…

He wouldn’t…

But what He would do is test Maul.

A true scion of the Sith does not trust blindly in dates and dossiers, and Master knows that. He must have told Maul the wrong date to pass on this wisdom. He must have, and He didn’t even fear the risk that this momentous mission might fail, because He trusted that Maul would understand.

And Maul did.

Master made the right choice. It’s as if someone had pumped Maul’s chest cavity full up with helium, pulling him off the upholstery and into the cool air: he found the correct date, with time to spare. He procured food and drink and shelter by himself, anticipated the need to hide his childish face under a mask. He built a vocoder. He is powerful and devilishly clever, and more prepared to serve the Sith than anyone has ever been, in all the history he knows, and Lord Sidious knew this when He sent Maul to Nar Shaddaa.

Master has never put His true pride into words; despite the considerable skill of His tongue He likely never will, but this mission is plain proof of the sort Maul never dared to yearn for.

His Master trusts Maul’s skill.

The emotion is overwhelming, and Maul wraps himself up in his blankets, to trap the acknowledgement for a while before it can dissipate.

He is victorious already. He is vengeance. He is Sith.

He’s won three days early.

After half an hour, though, basking in his glory gets boring. His face is growing warm. He’s eaten two sandwiches, too, and forced down seven gulps of awful water. He should sleep, but he isn’t tired yet.

Maul doesn’t exactly know what to do with downtime. Or: he does know. On Mustafar, he had long stretches with nothing to do. Apparently, it’s physically impossible to keep training all the time. SRT-X (or Strut, as Maul had called it in secret) once put itself in front of Maul and showed articles to Lord Sidious, about a vain bodybuilder on Corellia whose arm muscles had eventually started breaking down from overexertion, and he’d nearly poisoned himself with the waste of his own overbulged dead muscle tissue. Strut didn’t survive that confrontation, which in retrospect Maul admits was completely fair. (At the time, he’d cried his eyes out, no matter how much Master had tried to make him to stop, but that too had been a valuable lesson: the Master is always right, and contradiction suicide. Even if the frequency of lessons had tapered off somewhat after that. Lord Sidious had probably independently decided to make Maul train less. He was wise that way.)

He’s had long stretches where he didn’t even feel like tinkering with his droid projects, or meditating, because occasionally the hatred just wouldn’t come. That was before Lord Sidious showed Maul what the Jedi had done to the Sith: nowadays, it’s much easier to feel hatred. (Or what passes for hatred, anyway. Mostly it’s nothing but protective anger, but that is just another failure he cannot admit even to himself.)

During those times when there was nothing to do, Maul often researched people. Master is a politician in His spare time, of course, as Maul overheard some years ago, and He makes people dance and shiver and obey with a single word. It’s almost more impressive than being a Sith Lord. To manipulate people… to talk them into being your friends… Maul might need that skill, especially in the future when he will become the Sith Lord and teach his own apprentice—he would need the skill just to find an apprentice—and so he started his research project. Which admittedly consisted of looking at the hololessons that Master left for him. But that was the best way to observe natural behavior. Which was why Maul watched them. Over and over.

He’s not brought the hololessons with him now, but he is in someone’s ship. Johan had a picture up with his child. Maul already learnt so much today, about cold and efficiency and never trusting anybody and stealing from supermarkets, and maybe there is something additional to learn here, about people. He wobbles back over to the small holo and brings it down to his nest.

There’s nothing else on the datadrive, though, nothing but the toddler cradled in her father’s arms. No instructions. No meaning. Maul tries to imagine what it would feel like, to be that small or that big, but nothing wants to move in his head except for the water strangely threatening to blur his eyesight.

His chest hurts.

His chest hurts, and pain is a message.

Maul wishes he knew what he’s being told.

He moves closer and closer to the holodevice—there must be some power trapped in there, to make him react this way—and then his nose bumps against the plasteel.

It hits the off button, and Maul is alone again.

He tries to fall asleep.

He counts: he nearly finished his mission. He learnt about cold, and efficiency, and not trusting, and probably something about babies. He found food and water and shelter. He nearly made friends with hooded aliens and a brachno-jag. He—

Maul shoots upright and logs back in to the datapad.

He’s forgotten to search the database for the padawan.

⁂

There is one location on Teth even worse than the tea room: the stage out in the open air where Candidate Woobudg is stubbornly campaigning for freedom.

That’s what he keeps shouting.

Freedom, with the might of the Republic guarding his back and his twi’lek slave kneeling at his feet.

Freedom, the people rallying below mutter. Eldra is walking amongst them, looking for threats, while Master Fyaar is standing grimly behind Woobudge. “Optics,” Woobudg had explained and Master Fyaar had acquiesced, and Eldra didn’t understand and did: the twi’lek attendant would look too much like a person, she thinks, if she was next to a Jedi who could have been her daughter.

Freedom! Freedom! All around her, and something pulls on Eldra’s sleeve. It’s the hand of a young red twi’lek man. He’s collared and his left breast is exposed, suckling a sullustan baby. The child’s family—slavers—are a few meters ahead, and that’s what must have given him the courage to beg, wild-eyed and hoarse, “Take me with you, please!”

Freedom!

“We didn’t…” Eldra looks away. “We did not come here to free the slaves.”

⁂

No padawan is listed anywhere in the catalogue for Grakkus’ slave auction. There’s no Jedi, no witch, no force-sensitive or force-null or Sith or any thing or any being in any way remarkable. Nothing, neither in any listing for any future auction nor in the archives of successful deals stretching six decades into the past. No padawan who is not for sale but just a member of Grakkus’ personal collection except a boy who died ten years ago. No references to a Jedi sold by a third party, or even any guest who might be a Jedi when Maul cross-referenced the user lists with holonet articles about his ancestral foes. Two Jedi artifacts, but it’s not like those count.

No person that could in any way be interpreted as the mission target that Master talked about, not even after Maul exploited a weakness in the catalogue’s search field to give himself access that Johen shouldn’t have had and scoured it all over again.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

No way to succeed.

He should have been afraid all along. Maul wasted two hours basking in premature victory and safety; he wasted three days being cautiously optimistic, when he should have been swallowing down his pleas for mercy ever since the very second Master announced He’d send him to Nar Shaddaa.

Send him to failfail.

There’s no padawan here.

What does it mean, that Master wants Maul to fail the very first mission he ever had? What did Maul do wrong? Why couldn’t He just punish—?

Master might have made a mistake, perhaps, Maul’s mind offers timidly. Maybe He’s seen news of a padawan that isn’t here, but Master does not make mistakes. Master knows everything.

Besides, it being a mistake—which it isn’t—wouldn’t make a lick of a difference to Maul’s chances of surviving his Master’s wrath.

Maul swallows a gulp of the oily water, then another, and it burns. That doesn’t make his mind stop spinning, makes him even more woozy and warm and nauseous, but his growing illness won’t matter anyway if Master wants him dead. If he doesn’t find a padawan, nothing will ever matter again.

He’ll be punished. He’ll deserve it. He’ll die.

Maybe this is another lesson. Maul is training to become the Sith Lord after all, and every true Sith must learn that failure is not an option. Their mission is too important for that. Revenge is too important.

(Even if it’s not really meant as a lesson, not truly, Maul has to believe it is. Otherwise, what else is there to do but wait for death?)

Maybe this is a lesson in improvisation. In overcoming terror. In never giving in.

There must be a padawan somewhere on Nar Shaddaa. Somewhere in this quadrant, at least. Somewhere in the galaxy. Master must have meant ‘Nar Shaddaa’ in some general sense that doesn’t just refer to the planet, or maybe the padawan He talked of was moved…

The one location where there definitely are some padawans is the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Maul knows. But there are also several thousand armed and trained Jedi Masters there, and while Darth Maul will absolutely kill them all to avenge his fallen Sith brethren and sisters and siblings, he generally assumed it would happen at least one or two years in the future. That he’d have time to build a lightsaber before fighting to the death against the Grand Master Jedi, and also grow a little taller. His battle plans always took those things for granted.

Maul will just search the rest of the galaxy first for a suitable padawan, he decides, and keep the all-out assault on the Temple as a backup plan. That’s not cowardice: he only has a few more days and travelling to Coruscant will take a lot of time. It’s just efficient to try and find a padawan somewhere else first.

Maybe even somewhere on Nar Shaddaa. Maybe the owner of this ship just wasn’t interested in Jedi padawans.

Maul could get a different result on a different ship. He has to.

⁂

It happens too quickly for Eldra to process. The rally ends and the people disperse, and then there is a sound like static—and then she’s on her back with Master Fyaar’s heavy body on top of her. The air is shivering with the heat of blaster bolts and thick with the stench of burnt flesh and hair.

“Eldra,” Zalandas Fyaar rasps out. “Eldra.”

Eldra looks up at her. Master Fyaar’s blonde locks obscure her face, but they cannot hide the stripe of cooked skin at the very top of it, flecks of bone showing through. More than anything, Eldra wishes she could see her Master’s eyes, see the clear blue serenity that reminds her that all is as the force wills it. More than anything, she wishes she could see a mouth twisted in disappointment at Eldra’s failure to notice the ambush. Freckles. Worry-wrinkles. But Master Fyaar cannot raise her head, because she shielded Eldra with it, and—

“Eldra.”

Eldra raises her hand to Fyaar’s wound. She’s good at healing, she gets far better marks there than for diplomacy or geography or sports, and this is cauterized so there won’t be an infection, she just needs manipulate a few cells, to stabilize…

“You’re strong, child. You will not fall to the dark. I know it.”

That sounds like a goodbye. It doesn’t have to be. It won’t… “Master, please—” Eldra can heal her, she is healing her, the wound is closing a little.

“Always remember you are a Jedi.”

“Master—”

“Remember yourself.“

Jedi Master Zalandas Fyaar doesn’t die because she gives up. She doesn’t die because Eldra gives up, or because Eldra fails, or because survival was impossible: the man who pulls Eldra away from her dying Master simply doesn’t care that they need to touch.

He pushes Master Fyaar to the ground—“This one’s toast!”—and pulls Eldra upright by her left lekku, and no matter how desperately she fights through the pain worse than anything she has ever thought she’d bear, like her brain is being squashed and really that’s what is happening, like every thought she has has been replaced by puke-inducing pressure and she does retch and vomit, but still she fights, because if she can just get to Master Fyaar and save her then everything will be okay.

She fights until she doesn’t see the rise-and-fall of her Master’s chest anymore, and then she screams, and then she stops.

⁂

It’s the twelfth ship now. Same procedure as the last ones. Maul’s working through the entire shipyard ship by ship. Slowly, he crawls over and stands up and waits until the world stops wobbling, and then he slices the lock of the cargo hold. He searches for datapads and tries to access any slaver database he can.

Somewhere, someone must be selling a Jedi padawan. They just have to.

⁂

Something’s being shoved in front of her. A holocam, Eldra registers, to—shoot a picture for the ransom note? But why would they… it would suffice just to contact the Temple; they know where they sent Eldra and her Master; they know they haven’t been in contact; the must know that something went wrong.

Unless they don’t know she’s a…

“How do we want her?” the man holding the holocam asks. “Sultry?”

“Nah,” someone behind her back replies. “Feisty little Jedi like her’ll fetch more as a gladiator or something.”

So they do know. The Temple will ransom her, she’ll go home and everything won’t be okay because Master Fyaar will still be dead but—

“Growl.”

But she’ll go home—

“Growl, you little piece of shit!” the one behind her shouts, and she snarls. There’s a clicking sound. “Again!” she bares her teeth and gets another click, and another, and one more. There. They got the holo they don’t need, and then soon she’ll go—

Eldra screams when a hand twists her lekku.

She screams and screams, and when she calms down, she’s alone in a cell, on the ground, covered in fresh vomit and terrified and confused. I wasn’t fighting! I snarled for the camera, she thinks. I did what they asked me to do, there’s no reason… except they could. Because I’m alone right now.

Because they killed Master Fyaar.

They killed my…

And she…

“Remember yourself,” Master Fyaar said, her last words, and here Eldra is with her fists balled and gathering strands of hate around herself like a shroud. “Remember yourself,” and Eldra could hurt these people so easily if she felt for their cells and made them boil. Eldra could make it painful, and slow. It would be so easy.

So easy to fall.

“Remember yourself.”

⁂

Maul is sweaty and hot and he feels the way he did when he wasn’t allowed to sleep for days. He’s finished one half bottle of the awful water, and it hasn’t helped: everything is spinning and blurry and he’s still thirsty on top. He’s also inside his seventeenth ship and ready to give up on Nar Shaddaa. He’s been seeing the same nine slaver auction databases on repeat, and there’s considerable overlap between the offerings, and still nothing Jedi in sight.

I can’t fail, he thinks, and hits refresh again.

I can’t just fail my Master, and he’s about to exit the database and the ship and the planet when he notices the flashing window at the bottom right.

An alert!

An alert prominently featuring a twi’lek girl baring her teeth at the holocam, but the person is almost incidental to his interest.

“Jedi padawan for sale!” the headline screams in flashing red. “Freshly captured!!!”

So this is his enemy, his target, the prize he has to fetch to fulfill his destiny: she’s young, though probably older than him, and her blue face is badly cut up. There are deep purple bruises on both her lekku, and despite the anger and toughness she’s trying to display she mostly succeeds in looking terrified.

Hah, Maul thinks to himself. I knew the Jedi were soft. I wouldn’t be this weak, if I was captured, which never would happen in the first place because I am Darth Maul, heir of the Sith Order.

He looks at the picture again, trying to find his hatred. She and hers slaughtered the Sith on Malachor; they live in pampered safety; they know nothing of the Force. They—she would just as soon kill him, hurt him, traffic him if their fortunes were reversed. She is his enemy.

Still, she looks just like a person, alone and scared.

There is no point in looking at her image any more.

Maul studies the alert carefully. She is going to be sold tomorrow—not the date Master had told him of, but Maul already established that it was a test. She is going to be sold in the palace of Xev Xrexus, but maybe Master had misheard the name or it was yet another way of probing Maul’s skill. The terror Maul felt because of these tricks was a valuable lesson, a reminder of the utmost importance this mission held for the Sith Order and how inacceptable any kind of failure would be. Maul, moreover, has seen through it: he is completely equal to the task. He will bring the padawan to his Master, and not deviate from the plan for a single second. He is much more skilled than anyone else would be, anyone who isn’t an awesome Sith and therefore, he’ll perform admirably and easily, and Master will be proud. Master will pronounce him Darth Maul, and the many years of training will have paid off. He knows this. (Thinking it really hard, over and over, is the same thing as knowing.)

She’s been captured—

Master must have foreseen it. He is, after all, gifted in the art of clairvoyance he had told Maul, always already aware of the mistakes Maul might make at any point. So it makes sense, it does, that Master sent Maul to this planet days ago on a mission to buy a padawan that was captured two hours ago.

Master is wise that way.

He planned…

And…

By now, Maul is so tired and thirsty—his brain flashing Master knew and but why in quick dizzying succession—that even the relief of having succeeded can’t boost his energy anymore. He locks the ship, overriding any key fobs, and sets an alarm for well before the padawan’s auction. He takes a bite of the awful chips he acquired in the shop, and throws up.

⁂

“Smile.” He does. “Growl.” He does. “Not like that.” There is a slap, and then he arranges his facial muscles differently. He doesn’t know whether he’s succeeded, until he sees the approving nod, and feels the lack of punishment.

There is his body and there is him, and no connection between the two. If he had a mirror, he could make it look more natural, but only an approach. There is no joy here. No anger, or not the kind they would have him display. No future. There are no brothers to watch. There have been no brothers, ever since he was selected and taken off-planet, off-home, too many days or years ago now to count. These people’s expectations are a thick leather shirt, riverdunked and allowed to dry on the body, so tight that he can hardly breathe. There is no space inside for himself, let alone dreams or brothers or rage. There is only a face to rearrange, to the approval of a master.

A different master, soon.

Maybe that master will kill Savage. Maybe they won’t. One way or the other, this will the last ever auction he is sent to. Savage will make sure of that.

[wutroows]

taking him home (general hux x reader)

pairing: general hux x reader (romantic) a/n: threepio is your best friend in this, i don’t make the rules. also thinking of an alternative ending where hux stays behind and dies as he did in the movies but i know that just causes pain and suffering and this fandom has had way too much of that so i probably won’t do it unless people really want it. this has almost 3.5k words too so that’s pretty cool, hux is one of my favorite characters and it ruined me when he died so i hope you enjoy this, i really loved writing it 

“chewie..?”

rey’s voice is shaky as she stares up at ren’s star destroyer, which now took over the sky of kijimi. you stand next to finn, who had been visibly tense ever since ren’s destroyer was mentioned moments before. you look between him and poe, and then back at C-3PO, who now had no memory of any of you. the thought did twinge a bit. you really did like threepio, and now, you had to have him relearn everything he’d been through. 

“what about him?” finn asks, without missing a beat. “he’s on ren’s ship,” rey says, “he’s alive.” she turns back to look at the group, a now hopeful smile appearing across her lips. “what? how?” you hear poe say, “he’s alive! he must’ve been on a different transport.” you look between the group of people standing before you, all suddenly looking incredibly happy. “we gotta go get him.” finn concludes, “your friend’s on that sky trash?” zorii says, “guess he is!” poe shrugs. threepio suddenly becomes alive again, his eyes lighting up that familiar golden glow. “might i introduce myself. i am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations, and you are?” 

“okay, that’s gonna be a problem.” 

“threepio, move your metal ass, we’re almost there!” poe pushes past the protocol droid, who sounds offended when he speaks, “how dare you! we’ve only just met!” you roll your eyes and pat the droid on his shoulder, “i promise i’ll give you a nice story-time, later, threepio.” 

“poe!” you hear zorii say. she holds up something you can’t quite recognize from where you stand next to rey and finn, "go help your friend.” she sounds determined, and he shakes his head. “zorii, i don’t think i can take this.” he tries to deny it, pushing her hands away, but she refuses. you hear the roar of a ship from behind you, and as you peek around the corner, you tug at finn’s sleeve, “we need to leave, now.” you tell poe, and you turn and follow after rey. 

poe steps up beside you and you look over at him, “are you nervous?” he asks you after a minute, trying to keep up with rey, who has been setting the pace as you walk towards ochi’s ship, you shrug. “a little. i just want to get chewie out of here and then leave.” you tell him. you knew full well hux would be here. 

you hadn’t told anyone who the spy was. he was the one who told you palpatine was alive, and you relayed that information back to the resistance yourself each time. hux had gifted you a tie fighter to fly back and forth between your rendezvous point and the resistance base. you’d inspected it in and out, making sure the tie hadn’t been tracking your location. he’d promised you multiple times, he’d taken out a few things to make the tie as rogue as it could be, but your comms still worked, so sometimes for entertainment you’d listen to different frequencies and see what you found. hux was the only member of the first order you could say that you liked. he’d given you a first order officer uniform, making sure you wouldn’t be recognized at all by anyone. you could only hope he wouldn’t be involved. you knew he would pull something stupid to get you out of here if he had to. 

“i get it.” poe’s voice cuts you out of your thoughts and the door to ochi’s ship opens, and the group piles in. you silently thanked zorii for the medallion, as you were given the okay to enter ren’s destroyer. “whoever this chewie person is, this is madness!” 3PO says, and you look over at him. you missed his nagging, even if he wasn’t shut off for a while, you knew he’d never be the same again. 

the ship lands in hangar 12, and as soon as the door opens stormtroopers begin to walk up the ramp. finn shoots his blaster and poe follows suit, shooting the two down. the four of you turn back to back, shooting at every stormtrooper that comes in sight. you were definitely known about now. “you three, stay there!” rey says, and you hear threepio say, “happily!” 

“threepio!” you call out his name as you start to turn away, jogging backwards. his head turns upwards as he hears you call his name, “yes, mistress y/n?” you roll your eyes, he would always be the same droid when it came to never dropping formalities, “stay safe, please!” you say firmly, and with that, you turn to your friends. 

“which way?”

“uh, no idea, follow me!”

***

your eyes watch a squadron of stormtroopers pass. their armor is loud, clanking with each step they take. finn peaks his head out after they’re gone, and finally steps out of his hiding space. he turns and moves his hand, letting everyone else know it was okay to come out. the four of you hold your blasters and check down every single hallway, making sure no more members of the first order were in the area. finn leads you down a hallway, and you jump as two stormtroopers, clad in their signature armor, with their blasters pointed at your heads. 

“drop your weapons!” one of them says, and rey steps forwards, waving her hand, “it’s okay that we’re here.” you and poe give each other a look, but turn your attention back to rey and the troopers in front of you. the two of them lower their blasters, “it’s okay that you’re here,” the one who spoke originally says, “it’s good.” 

“you’re relieved that we’re here.”

“thank goodness you’re here.”

“welcome guys.”

“did she do that to us?” you hear poe say and you elbow him in the side, earning a small “ow” before rey speaks again. “we’re looking for a prisoner and his belongings.” 

***

you shot the last camera that was in the hallway, “they said chewie’s this way.” finn says, and as he enters a passcode to get the door to unlock, rey turns around, walking in a different direction. “rey, come on.” finn says from behind you and she turns around, “the dagger is on this ship. we need it.” she says and a confused look appears on poe’s face, “rey, why?” you ask her and she looks into your eyes, “ a feeling. i’ll meet you back at the hangar.” 

“rey, you can’t just-” finn says, but he’s too late, as she’s already gone down a different hallway. rey did a lot of things based off of intuition and feelings. hopefully she was right about needing that dagger, but if you had it, threepio wouldn’t have needed to get his memory wiped. you sighed audibly and poe gave you a pat on your shoulder, “chewie.” poe says as finn had took a few steps as if he were wanting to go after her. he nods, and the three of you go down the door that had just opened. 

ren’s destroyer was practically a maze, but the door to chewie’s cell was easy to find as the troopers rey had mind-tricked had given you exact directions to get there. the door to his cell slid open and you heard his roars as soon as it did. “of course we came for you. chewie.” poe sits his hands on the wookiee��s shoulders for a moment and you gave him a quick hug. 

you were incredibly close to the wookiee. after han’s passing, he needed someone to lean on. he lost luke, recently as well, and now the only person he had left was leia. when the lightning shot out of rey’s fingertips, you thought that he was in there, and you broke down in front of poe. you couldn’t help it. you’d lost too much already. you had been close to han, and luke had told you that he liked you the one time that he met you, saying that he knew you would do great things. you could only wish he was there to see them. 

“yeah, rey’s here, she’s gonna get the dagger.” finn’s voice drags you back to reality, and you uncuff chewie’s paws. the three of you help him stand up.

now it was time to make your way back to the ship.

***

“wrong way!”

“well, there’s not really a right way, is there?” poe retorts and he peeks his head around the door, shooting one of the stormtroopers. you slide out of the door and shoot the remaining ones, sliding one of their blasters back to the currently weaponless chewbacca, who takes out the troopers approaching you from behind. “thanks chewie!” you laugh breathlessly and he roars in response. you missed him. 

the four of you continue making your way down the hallway, jumping over stormtroopers and shooting at any of them who cross your path. “we close?” poe asks, “straight ahead!” 

poe runs into the crossroads of a few hallways, and a blaster shot collides with his arm. “poe!” finn screams, and he slides on his knees, “are you okay?” 

footsteps, and a lot of them. you back up next to them, chewie following suit. 

“nope.” 

***

handcuffs are uncomfortable.

you notice that as you’re manhandled by a group of stormtroopers. they confinscate your blaster and before you know it you’re being dragged down a hallway. your eyes landed on hux, and you silently pleaded with him to let you go. he made eye contact with you before quickly looking away, and you grit your teeth. he’d do something, you knew that. well, not exactly. you were just hoping incredibly hard that he would. 

you’re standing between poe and chewbacca, and you bit on the inside of your lip. hux was standing right there. he was about to watch you be executed. at least you’d die with your friends. “actually, i’d like to do this myself.” hux’s accented voice speaks out, and you feel your heart leap out of your chest. was he really going to save you? you hear a trooper hand him their blaster and you let out a sigh.

“what were you gonna tell rey before?” you roll your eyes hearing poe’s words. the person he was talking to was finn, who had said he wanted to tell rey something while the group was sinking in quicksand on pasaana. he’d brushed it off multiple times and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was talking about. “you still on that?” finn replies. “oh, i’m sorry, is this a bad time?” he says back sarcastically. chewbacca grunts next to you and you mumble out, “i agree. they sound like a married couple.” you whisper to him. 

“yeah, sort of is a bad time, poe.”

“well, 'cause later doesn't really look like an option. if you're gonna let something off your chest, maybe now's not the worst time to...”

the two of them start bickering, and you begin wondering what hux was doing behind you. was he contemplating killing you himself? at much as you hated to admit it, maybe he was. he hadn’t done anything except hold the blaster. 

one. two. three. four. 

your eyes shut and you prepare for impact, thinking you’ll see the bodies of your friends fall forwards and that he saved you for last. you don’t. 

“i’m the spy.” hux says, and you smile widely. he pulled through. you had your doubts, but you know that deep down, hux had morals. 

“what?!”

“you?!”

“y/n!” finn and poe say at the same time, and you look at them. “i promised him i’d tell no one who he was.” he gives you a look of gratitude, “i can at least do that, right?” 

“we don’t have much time.” hux says, looking across the four of you. 

“i knew it!” poe exclaims. if your hands weren’t cuffed, you’d be facepalming. “no, you did not.” finn says and you roll your eyes. you were the only person in the resistance who knew who the spy was. hux said he’d only make face to face deals, and since then, you’d met up with him a lot of times. 

hux comes forwards and uncuffs you first, and you look up at him happily. 

as much as you hate to admit it, he was incredibly pretty. his eyes were a bright blue and his hair a fiery red. he looked focused as he unlocked the handcuffs, and they fall to the floor with a clang. you massage your wrists and he looks at you. “thank you.” he doesn’t say anything, but he gives you a nod. he moves on to the wookiee standing next to you. 

after all four of you are uncuffed, he leads you through the destroyer and back to the hangar. you see threepio, bb8 and the new droid rey found on ochi’s ship coming from the hallway. “bb8, come on!”

“i’ll shut down the impeders. you’ve got seconds.” you clench your jaw and furrow your brow. he had seconds. you knew no one would believe his story that the four of you just escaped. you hated the first order, but they weren’t all dumb. “hux.” you utter. you turn to him and look him straight in the eyes. “there she is, she’s a survivor.” you assume poe’s talking about rey, but your eyes remain firmly on the general standing in front of you.

“blast me in the arm, quick.” 

finn looks confused, “or they’ll know.”

“no!” you exclaim, “they’ll know either way. you can’t stay here. you need to come with us, now. you’ll die if you stay here.” you tell him. he looks over at you, and you know that he realizes that. he’d die if he stays there. he shakes his head, and you become desperate. 

your hands reach out to his face, and you cup his jawline. the tip of your nose is touching his and for once you don’t care if your friends see. you really liked him. “i can’t.” he says. his voice is shaky and his eyes are looking anywhere but your face. “please.” you beg him. you feel your eyes begin to fill with tears. you’d really gotten attached to him. 

you remembered the first time you met him.

“it’s you?” you say as you hop down from your x-wing and onto the landing platform. his hands are behind his back and he’s looking straight at you. you take your helmet off and hold it underneath your arm. “really? i was expecting a stormtrooper, not a general.” you laugh slightly. you see him roll his eyes, but he beckons you to a more secretive part of the platform. “i chose this spot for a reason.” you nod, following after him. 

“you shouldn’t take an x-wing here.”

“well it’s not like we have tie fighters lying around.” you tell him and he makes a mental note to himself. he couldn’t get kylo ren to lose if you were dead. he pulls out a few pieces of paper and he hands them to you. your hands move to open them, but his sharp voice stops you. “not here.” 

“riiiight. sorry.” you apologize, chuckling softly.

“i’ll be on my way then. stay safe, general.” you mock salute, and with that, you’re turned back towards your x-wing and you’re flying away. he keeps his eyes on your ship until he can’t anymore.

“listen to me, hux.” you say to him, “come with us. come with me.” your words hit him hard, and he hates it. he knew he likes you. he remembered the exact moment he realized it.

“you really think i’ll wear this?”

hux holds in his hands an officer uniform. you look up at him and shake your head. “you need to. if i’m caught with you in that outfit you wear now,” you look down at your uniform. it’s bright orange and covered in rebel alliance symbols, “you’ll be captured and taken prisoner, tortured for information by ren.” he tells you and you inhale deeply, but you take the uniform from him and throw it into the x-wing. “fine, but i’m only wearing it here to ease your nerves.” you say sarcastically, nudging him with your elbow.

he rolls his eyes, but he feels his cheeks warm. 

“please.” he finally looks into your eyes, and he notices the fact that you’re crying. hux looks confused, “we need to go, y/n!” poe’s voice says from behind you. “shut up, poe!” your voice is coarse, and the rest of the group looks shocked from your words. you’d never once yelled at any of them. “please, i’m begging you. you’ll die if you stay here and you know that.” 

“i..” he starts. your forehead leans against his own and your eyes are closed. 

you were in love with him.

he sent you different coordinates. 

the spot you met him in was usually the same, but now it was some planet out in the outer rim. the first order was active there, but your officer’s uniform would easily let you slip past stormtroopers. you land your x-wing where your meeting spot was, and there he stood. 

he’s with a tie fighter. 

you stare at him, eyes wide. “did you get that for me?” you ask him, hopping down from your x-wing. he nods. he looks cute. his hair isn’t perfect, some strands falling out of place and resting on his forehead. his eyes are still that same beautiful blue you find yourself staring at way too often. “is this because you care about me? how cute.” you gush playfully, and you see his jaw clench.

“thank you, hux.” you laugh, “just.. don’t mention it.” 

you’re shocked. of course you are. you swore he was a ruthless man, with no empathy or care for others, but this clearly proved otherwise. he managed to get you an x-wing just to fly to your rendevous point and back. “everything the first order would use to track you has been removed.” he reassures you after noticing you opened your mouth.

“did you remove it yourself?”

he adjusts the lapel of his jacket, and he nods. he looks flustered, and it looked adorable. “i couldn’t risk anyone else doing it. i learned how to for this.” his voice is quiet, and his eyes and looking down towards his feet. 

“thank you, really.” 

he doesn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. the blush on his cheeks said everything for you.

he hates seeing you cry for someone like him. “hux, listen to me. okay? just listen.” you mumble out, “i’ve liked you for a long time.” you admit to him, quiet enough to where no one else but the two of you could hear. you see his face flush, and the blush on his cheeks spreads to the tips of his ears and nose. you feel yourself melt at that. he was so beautiful without even trying. 

at this point, the two of you are on your knees on the floor and you’re desperately holding onto him. you couldn’t give up that easily and just let him run off to his death you knew was coming. you didn’t even realize that you sunk to your knees and took him with you until you felt the cold of the floor through your pants and on your legs. 

“a really long time, ever since you gave me that stupid tie fighter to make sure i didn’t die trying to get to you. i was so shocked that you cared so much about some rebel, i was supposed to be someone you hated, but instead you took care of me and.. you didn’t want me dying. i knew that, you don’t have to tell me.” he opens his mouth to respond, but you put your finger over his lips. “i’m not done.” 

“i just.. i don’t want you dying here. i could save you. i could take you home..” you sniffle, and your thumbs are running over his cheeks. “y/n..” he says your name, and you look into his eyes. “please, let me save you, armitage.” 

something in him changes as you say his name. 

“okay. okay, i’ll go.” 

a smile appears across your lips, and you couldn’t help yourself. one of your hands travel to the back of his head, and you lean forwards. his eyes stay open for as long as they could, but as soon as your lips press against his, they’re closed. he melts into your touch, and you stand up off the floor, taking him with you. 

he never wants to let you go. 

“come on, let’s go.” 

he nods. 

your fingers entwine with his.

you’re taking him home. 

[writefightandflightclub]

Two Steps Back: Chapter Three

**SERIES (3/9 parts)** Part one is here. Part two is here.

Series summary: this series spans decades in Poe and readers’ lives, with snapshots of moments based around the following themes.

Four times Poe said he’d stay with you.

Four times he tried to leave you behind.

One time you made it work.

Chapter Summary: (STAY:TWO) You haven’t crossed paths with Poe since he left Yavin-4 for the New Republic Academy. Turns out your reunion is a nightmare rather than a dream, and the events lead Poe to question everything.

Author’s note: This has plenty of A N G S T, and some surprise character appearances. BB-8 features heavily! Bless his round heart! Italics or *** indicate shifts in chronology or POV.

Word count: 7k. Promise next chapters will be shorter. Yikes.

Warnings: med bay, repeated references to character death, battle scenes, injury, blood. One needle reference. Angsty but not super graphic. 

“I’ll stay with her.” Poe offers in a small, broken voice. Small enough that he’s not sure anyone in the room even heard him. Broken enough that BB-8 keens in concern, his beeping discordant with the steady blip from the nurse droid as it tracks your weakening pulse.

You were raised amongst jungle, but now, it’s wires which wrap around your arms like vines, seemingly dragging you under as if you might be subsumed into the depths of the soil at any moment. Needles puncture your skin like snake fangs, pulsing concoctions of chemicals through your veins. Poe wishes he could see you surrounded by life again, by organic things, instead of instruments and machines. You look so lost in this jungle of machinery; so very far away from home.

Nauseous and wrung-out with worry, Poe watches your squad member, who he’d learned earlier to be Sion Banna, hunker over your makeshift med bay. He watches him gently trace his index finger along your cheek, your jaw. Poe’s chest tightens further at the gesture, precisely because it signals that the two of you must be more than squad members.

Poe feels suddenly far from home too. He suddenly feels like an intrusion in the room, in your life. Despite the fact that he knew you first. Knew you best. But he doesn’t know you now. He can’t claim to understand who you’ve become. He’s missed so much of your life. He’s missed learning of the path you forged for yourself after he left you for the stars. For the Academy.

So, Poe stands still in the room, a respectful distance away from your bed, away from Banna and his grief. Outwardly still, at least. But inwardly, he is motion; turbulence. Everything in his body is telling him to throw himself towards you. He wants to fold over your bed and weep. He wants to retrace the constellations he peppered across your skin all those years ago and make you light up again. It’s not right that you are fading. Your light going out. It’s too soon.

When he’d left Yavin, he’d never imagined that the next time he would see you might also be the last.

Your paths had finally crossed today, so serendipitously. Against all the odds, you had found each other again, when you most needed to. Your separate missions had converged on a nowhere planet he was never even supposed to land on. Poe had needed someone to guide him out of the jungle and you’d needed a pilot, and if that wasn’t the Force in action, then he didn’t know the meaning of the word.

“I’m sorry, Banna, but the General needs you now if the troops are going to move out.” the Officer standing agitatedly in the doorway repeats, snapping Poe from his inner monologue. Then, more softly, “Make her sacrifice count, Sargent. We’ve got one shot at making use of this intel and the window is closing fast.”

“She’s not dead yet.” Sion hisses, snapping his head towards the doorway, eyes full of grief like shattered glass. Banna’s tears fall with an audible patter on to your med-bay gown as he leans over your prone body. You don’t deserve this, Poe thinks. You deserve the patter of jungle rains falling on the canopy. You deserve verdant pastures. You deserve life.

Poe watches a struggle ripple through Banna’s whole body as he stoops to plant a trembling kiss to the centre of your forehead, his face twisted with distress as he reluctantly straightens away from you. With visible effort, Banna tugs in a steadying breath, wiping his tears away harshly with the heel of his hand.

“You. Dameron.”, he motions, urgently, desperately. “You’ll stay with her?”

Poe blinks wordlessly before mustering a nod, barely remembering having made the offer. He’ll stay with you. Of course he’ll stay with you.

Banna examines of the depths Poe’s eyes, perhaps validating his sincerity. Ensuring that he understands the weight of this responsibility. Banna must be satisfied with what he finds, as he nods lightly, allowing himself one more pained look at you before he sweeps out to do his duty.

Poe feels sick to the pit of him, knowing exactly what he’s promising. He’s promising that at least you won’t be alone, when you die. Because he’ll stay with you.

He tugs in a breath, on the precipice of tears.

***

BB-8 had thundered bumpily alongside Poe as the pilot trudged through the sapping mud and dense growth of the jungle. The New Republic had received intel that allied special forces were mounting an insurgence against imperials in the area. Poe had merely been scheduled to carry out a flyover. Simple reconnaissance. After getting too ballsy, however, and flying too low, the pair were victim to an “unfortunate exploding X-Wing incident” (that’s what Poe had termed it – BB-8 had preferred “we were shot down by a ground cannon” for accuracy, when he had logged it in his internal drive).

After the crash, BB-8 had dropped smoothly from his seat in the X-Wing cockpit and had watched his dazed yet surprisingly plucky master clamber out. That’s when the “unfortunate getting lost incident” had happened (“being chased by Troopers into the depths of the jungle”, as BB-8 had recorded it).

Now, Poe was thoroughly lost, and the astromech along with him. BB-8 didn’t have this sector mapped -few did, as the terrain was so not only inhospitable, but had been under imperial control for years- and with no link back to the New Republic base, the pair were entirely on their own, stranded and shipless.

Poe didn’t seem to have much choice, then, to head towards the explosions, despite it being the counterintuitive move, according to BB-8’s protocols. It was their best chance at finding a workable ship, he had explained to the droid as he walked, his footfalls becoming sluggish and his skin taking on an increasing sheen as a result of his efforts. BB-8 was grateful for the narrative. Sometimes, Poe’s seemingly illogical decisions were tricky for a humble astromech to decipher without some explanation.

BB-8 was starting to learn Poe, and build a pattern of his behaviours, but until he did fully, he appreciated that the pilot was generous with his words and with his praise. It helped BB-8 get things right and fulfil his duties satisfactorily. Some of the astromechs at the Academy hadn’t seemed to gel so well with their assigned pilots. BB-8 was thankful for Poe, who treated him kindly. Plus, he felt he’d lucked-out by being assigned to a huge softy, who guarded him closely and supplied him with copious belly scritches.

“Who in the hell would be ballsy enough to attack this base, huh?” Poe wondered out loud as the trek towards the rising columns of smoke continued.

Poe had flown over here earlier, and even he hadn’t been able to make any gains from the air. Visibility was low through the canopy, the atmosphere heavily clouded and punctured by stone stacks protruding from the ground like reverse icicles. Plus, as he’d discovered, they had some pretty nifty ground cannons at their disposal. No, the only way in was on foot and high-risk, but someone sure was doing a good job of launching an offensive.

BB-8 saw Poe ducking behind a thick tree, still some distance away from the explosions, and surmised, when Poe pressed his index finger to his lips, that he should also enter “sneak mode”. The droid rolled carefully up to his master’s feet, staying close to his heels and peeking from behind Poe’s legs with a soft and inquisitive “boop”.

Poe looked down at himself, as if to consider the conspicuous nature of his blue New Republic flight suit against the backdrop of the verdant green terrain. “BB-8, do you wanna do some recon for me?” Poe whispered, wiping his brow on the sleeve of his increasingly damp flight suit.

BB-8 nodded the ball of his head with enthusiasm.

“Find out what we’re dealing with up ahead. You know the drill by now, buddy.”

BB-8 looked up at his master for a moment. The young man had become increasingly decisive during his years at the Academy, he noted. But he always asked BB-8 what he wanted to do, as if he could say no if he wanted. It made the droid even happier to help.

The astromech whirred across the jungle floor with relish, keen to fulfil his assignment. Keeping a low speed to ensure he didn’t attract too much attention, BB-8 did a sweep of the surrounds, scanning for Troopers, for munitions, for allies, and, most importantly, for a ship.

He counted up the Troopers, who seemed to have been under attack until not long ago. Rocking to peek through foliage, BB-8 looked over the uniforms of the fallen for clues, guessing those in unmarked uniforms could well have been the special forces Poe had been sent to this planet to scope out.

With continued caution, BB-8 rounded the perimeter of the central clearing, relaying a feed of information back to Poe once out of earshot of any hostiles. Poe seemed pleased with the droid’s work, and praised him profusely, which induced BB-8 to give an involuntary happy wobble. He felt as jolly as a droid could, especially when he considered that he might even have been allowed to sleep at the foot of Poe’s bed that night. If they ever made it back…

Then, to the left of him, BB-8 picked out a grunt of pain, and snapped his antennae towards it. It was a human noise, he ascertained. With caution, BB-8 made a careful approach to discern who the noise has come from. He saw you, your back pressed flush against a grey slab of stone, one knee hooked in to yourself and the other leg outstretched, pants blooming with a flower of red which had soaked through the material. The same uniform as your comrades who had fallen during the assault, BB-8 pieced together.

BB-8 was about to pass you by silently, without engaging -recon was the name of the game, after all; that is, until you tore away your sleeve, ripping it into strips and tying it tautly around your leg with a grunt, making efforts to stem the bleeding.

At that, BB-8 couldn’t stop himself from whirring towards you, emerging out of the bushes. You were surprised by the entrance, BB-8 had judged, given that you jumped and instantly trained a blaster on him. Desperate to get his urgent point across, BB-8 wobbled increasingly fast on the spot, beeps coming staccato, his head dipping earnestly towards the tattoo on your forearm.

“Kriff, are you about to detonate or something?!” you asked in alarm, subconsciously flattening yourself further against the rock and shielding yourself with your non-blaster toting arm.

All BB-8 could do was to beep excitedly at Poe through his comms as you looked on in confusion.

“Wait, who are you talking to, droid?! What do you mean you found a friend? Don’t be so sure I’m your friend” you had hissed.

You had listened to the droid as he keenly relayed the rest of his message, powerless to stop him, short of blasting his head off and drawing the wrong kind of attention. But BB-8 would have recognised that tattoo anywhere. His master has one exactly like it on his shoulder blade.

The expression on your face when BB-8 finished his message was pure shock, jaw slack with disbelief. “There’s only one person with a tattoo to match mine, droid. But you can’t possibly belong to Poe Dameron.”

BB-8 had beeped affirmatively, and watched a hopeful and joyous grin inch over your face.

***

As soon as the mechanical door sighs closed, Poe and BB-8 are left alone with you. The nurse droid had also tootled out in Banna’s wake, having done all it could to make you… comfortable.

Once he is alone with you, the unconscious pressure of keeping up appearances diminishes instantly. Poe feels like the air has suddenly been sucked out of the room. His body feels like a dead weight upon his legs and he practically collapses across the floor and into the chair next to your bed, feeling once again like he’s wading through sapping mud, enclosed in the uncomfortable heat of the jungle. His eyes trace over your face – the first time he’s gotten a good look at you- and he is moved to grip your limp hand in his own.

“Hey.” he speaks, his voice unsure and full of cracks. “It’s… It’s Poe. Remember me?”

There’s no hope of it, but a tiny morsel in him still believes you might respond. When you are silent, the room seems to become deathly still with it.

Poe doesn’t much like silence, and yet, his throat constricts, leaving the famously verbose pilot with nothing at all to say. All the words he wants to utter feel too big to pass through his lips, a resurgence of emotions ballooning in his chest and edging out everything else. He’s filled his head with war for so long that he has drowned so much of you out, but now you flood over him in a deluge of memories, of feelings, twisting through him like vines, reinvigorated and nourished after the rains.

Instead of talking, he opts to rest his forehead on your hand and collapses beneath the weight of trying to be strong. Of trying to pretend this doesn’t hurt him; pretending this could be easier now than it would have been then because he doesn’t know you anymore.

He does know you, though. He knows the roots of you, even though you may have grown and twisted in new directions since you were last intertwined with him. He knows you. And he certainly knows the lack of you.

Poe had set off for the stars, but he’d never felt a more radiant light shine on him than that sparkle in your eyes. No sun could warm him like the kind rays of your smile. No moon could soothe him like the steadfast glow of your heart. No planet cold feel like home without you on it. The thought of you not waking up… it suddenly feels like all the stars might go out with you.

He had once promised he would love you until all the stars went out. You liked to remind him of it, back on Yavin. He now realised he had made an error, and he wished he could modify his promise; he would love you beyond that, in fact. He knew it, because your stars were about to go out and all others with you, he could swear, and yet he was not done loving you. If he were, then why would his heart burn with such pain as he looked upon you like this.

Part of him wants to grab you and shake harshly to shift you out of this stillness, because it isn’t right. It isn’t right. Your hand is cold in his and he grips you more tightly, willing warmth into you. But the other part of him thinks you look too delicate to touch, tethered to this world only by spiderwebs which might be disturbed with a single brush.

Watching him curl in on himself, BB-8 stoops to nuzzle Poe’s leg with the dome of his head. He beeps gently, inquisitively, trying to get Poe talking.

Poe sniffs. “Uhhh, yeah. She was my best friend before I met you, buddy.”

Poe is glad of the distraction as his astromech deftly questions him.

“…Yeah, she is a badass, huh?” Poe smiles gently to himself with a quiet pride, stroking his thumb conscientiously over the ridges of your knuckles.

The droid continues his soft enquiries.

“Why didn’t I…” Poe scoffs lightly, finally lifting his head and looking down at BB-8. “You think that I never mentioned her before, huh?”

The droid beeps affirmatively.

“Oh, buddy. I did.” Poe counters, his voice barely above a whisper, but rising in conviction. “Remember when I told ya about crashing the senate meeting on Yavin, huh? The time I got arrested? Her idea.” Poe laughs softly as more and more memories come back to him, transporting him away from the hurt and back to a time he had been happier than this… happier than he remembered feeling. “And, the scar on my elbow? When I rolled down the side of a temple after too much kriffin’ fire whiskey- her idea to raid my dad’s stash.”

Finally, his face becomes pinched, eyes wistful as BB-8 prompts him further. “And, you know sometimes, Beebs, when we fly over jungle… and you ask me why I’m quiet, what I’m thinking about?”

The astromech responds with encouragement.

“Yeah, and I say, just an old friend. It’s her. It’s her I’m thinking about, buddy.” Poe’s voice becomes small and broken again, wafer thin, and the astromech keens in empathy with his master.

At BB-8’s next question, the emotion balloons in Poe to the point he can’t contain it, wringing reluctant tears from him as it catches him off-guard. “Do I miss her?”

Tears spilling down his cheeks, Poe’s gaze settles on your face, marred by injuries, yet entirely beautiful. He answers as if it shocks him, his voice a mere tremble and his breaths coming like sobs. “I miss her so much.” With the gulf which opens up within him, Poe acknowledges to himself for the first time precisely how much.

The astromech speaks again in an attempt at distraction, not liking the sad beeps emanating from his master at all.

“No.” Poe shakes his head. “It wasn’t all dumb stuff Beebs.” Poe’s face crinkles with bittersweet pain as he tries to put into words the moments you’d shared together. Small hands gripping each other tight and promising never to let go. Becoming together, side-by-side. Rolling in the long grass and laughing until your sides ached. Kissing constellations on your skin as you both finally bloomed into what you’d been becoming all along: each other’s.

Poe lifts your hand to his lips to plant small, trembling kisses over the ridge of each of your knuckles, in turn. Then, he whispers your name into the air like a prayer, feeling the loss of you before you’ve even left him, because of course, he’d already left you. You’d each made your separate ways across the galaxy. For the first time, he lets himself imagine what could have been if you’d plotted a course together. He’d been naïve to think the war would never touch you. Well, look at you now.

“Maker, please. Please let her wake up.” Poe buries his head into the mattress by your still form. “Please stay with me. Stay with me.” He chants those three words over and over and over. He submits a hundred tiny words in lieu of the ones that feel too big to vocalise. That feel too big to comprehend right now.

You were his best friend. Your paths had only just crossed again after so many years apart. And all of a sudden, Poe couldn’t remember for the life of him why he would have left you.

But it’s too late now. It’s too late.

BB-8 leans against Poe as he folds over you and sobs, grieving for you, for all the lost time; grieving that he didn’t just stay.

For right now, he’d stay with you, like he promised. Like he should have promised then.

He prayed you wouldn’t go dark. Not so soon.

***

You had signalled for BB-8 to come to you, and he had nestled by your side as you requested that he patch you through to his master. The astromech obliged, and you had gripped the droid’s “belly”, hands splayed as you had leaned-in to better hear the transmission, Poe’s distinctive, giddy voice shrouded in static.  

“I might have known I’d find you causing trouble. Are these exploded imperials something to do with you?”

BB-8 watched as a disbelieving, joyous grin split your face. “Poe kriffing Dameron. I could kiss your droid right now.” Only a real friend could smile like that, BB-8 reckoned. He’d done well finding you.

“You’ve gotta buy him dinner first.” Poe continued, cheesy as ever, and BB-8 could detect the easy smile in his master’s voice, echoing your own.

Despite your pain, and the dire situation, your laugh lilted over the comms, your relief at having found a friend out here (or, rather, two, as any friend of Poe’s was a friend of BB-8’s) was palpable.

“Poe,”, you said with urgency. “You’d better be as good as you always said you’d be, ‘cause I sure could use a getaway pilot right now.”

“Tell me you’ve got eyes on a ship.” the plea and the cautious relief in the pilot’s voice was starkly apparent, even as his voice was muffled by the speaker.

“I’ve got eyes alright. What’s your status?”

Poe spent some time outlining his position, as best he could, BB-8 chipping in where needed.  You knew the terrain well, and it didn’t take long before you pieced together a route which would allow you to converge in the central clearing, right by the imperial transporters.

“Don’t suppose the New Republic taught you how to hotwire an imperial ship?” you asked him, as you inputted coordinates into your handheld device.

“No, but I may have picked-up some tricks elsewhere. Don’t suppose you can provide me with a… distraction?”

BB-8 saw your eyes flick between the columns of smoke and the grenades clipped on to your belt, as if you and Poe were sharing a thought. “Affirmative.”

You ran over the plan one more time, reminding Poe that you knew of his ability to get turned around in the jungle all too well. Thankfully though, your instructions were clear, and you were as confident as you could be that you could pull this off.

“I’ll see you at the ship. Bring my droid!”

BB-8 watched you struggle to your feet with a grunt, weight kept off your bad leg, your body still bent low for cover. “Droid’s cute.”

“Like father, like son.”

BB-8 saw you grin again at that as you tightened the bindings on your leg for good measure. “Don’t get cocky, and don’t get lost, Dameron.”

“Affirmative.”

“And Poe?” You said finally, a slight quake detectable in your voice. “It’s really kriffing good to hear your voice. You promise you’re real?”

There was a beat before Poe responded. “I’ll prove it with a famed Poe hug when I see you, ‘kay?” There was a tension in his voice, more highly-strung than it had been up to now.

“You betcha. Alright, Dameron, let’s do this. Any final words before I go dark?”

“Plenty. Just make it to the ship and I’ll tell you myself.”

BB-8 took that as his cue to terminate the connection for the time-being, and stuck close to your heels as you deftly picked your way through the thick of the jungle, rounding up on the central clearing. BB-8 noted how you pushed on through your injury, determined and decisive even as you saw the clearing ahead teeming with Troopers. Even as you saw the bodies of your fallen comrades being manhandled, with little care, aboard land speeders, no doubt being ferried to the main facility. The set of your face was resolute and formidable.

You picked your way through the thick of it, no possible recourse to the ships except to brave it and hope, the path almost entirely exposed. You travelled as far as you could before being spotted, strategically placing a couple of grenades amidst their fleet of speeders and ships, towards the outer edge of the clearing. You tried to pattern it so that it appeared the assault was incoming from beyond the treeline, hopefully buying you more time.

The blasts successfully diverted attention (and Troopers) as far as was possible from Poe’s ship of focus, allowing him to slip in from across the clearing and get to work. Sticking close to you and mirroring your movements, BB-8 saw Poe in the periphery of his vision, popping a control panel and tugging hurriedly at some wires. He really must have learned some tricks during his stint on Kajimi.

BB-8 huddled with you, momentarily, as you attempted to obscure both yourself and the droid from the enemy, managing to pick off a few disparate Troopers as they had raced off towards the treeline. Poe was a good shot, but BB-8 thought you were even better, demonstrating a good eye and steady hand, especially from such a distance.

When BB-8 spotted Poe successfully drop the access ramp he knew it would be time to roll soon, quite literally for him. He waited for your order to circle out, trusting your judgement based on what he’d seen you pull off so far. However, BB-8 saw your head flick around in concern.

“There are too many of them, little one. We need another distraction. Stop them from reaching the cannons.” You said to the droid as you prepared to move out. The astromech had beeped deeply in concern as he read your intention to create one. Especially when he spotted that you were out of grenade clips, your belt now sitting empty.  

“I’m gonna need you to make sure that you get Poe out of here safely, you understand?” BB-8 had beeped “Of course”.

“And I need you to take this.” You had held out a small data chip, which BB-8 had accepted into one of his many storage drawers. “I trust you with this, ok? But you need to get it out of here.”

BB-8 nodded his head firmly in understanding, as he watched your eyes continue to scan around the facility.

“If I don’t make it, then tell Poe…” You had trailed off, brow furrowed as you looked down at the floor. “Kriff. Just tell him I miss him.” Your declaration was somewhat interrupted, however, by something stirring in your line of vision.

BB-8 followed your gaze and saw one of your squad members -judging by the uniform- running full pelt across the clearing and towards the now-whirring ship which Poe had managed to start-up.

“Sion!” you had gasped, in evident surprise, before quickly scanning the scene to reassess your options. Sion had evidently seen the ship, and the Troopers have evidently seen him.

“Scratch that, droid. Who needs a distraction(?) We can do this with all their attention on us(!)”, you had mused sarcastically, through your teeth, as you waited for the optimum moment to launch yourself to your feet, prepping a blaster in each hand. You had sprung up with a groan of pain, and had yelled for BB-8 to roll; now.

BB-8 had dipped his head and beelined towards his master. Poe must have caught wind of the mass exodus towards him as he had the engines flaring and primed for lift-off. As he rolled, the droid heard boots pounding the ground behind him as you followed, closely at first. But then your footsteps had slowed. From behind you, BB-8 heard Sion shouting, urging you on; faster. The droid heard you yelling to just “Go, damnit!” and he knew there was nothing he could do to help except trundle on towards his master. You had trusted him with a mission, after all.

BB-8 made it up the access ramp in good time. You nearly made it too. You did. But with your leg shot you were too slow of a target. The blaster shots from the Troopers in pursuit miraculously kept missing you and Sion… until they didn’t. One of the shots had clipped a crate of munitions and it had detonated, the blast knocking you up into the air and then down to the floor in a heap. You didn’t get back up. You didn’t move.

From aboard the ship, BB-8 had been side-by-side with Poe as he had watched you drop, his hands white-knuckling on the ship’s controls as he had breathed “No. No, no, no.”. His heart rate was spiking in a way BB-8 hadn’t recorded before.

Poe had his eyes on you. He had watched you fall. He had frozen, uselessly, as your squad member Sion waded in to pick you up, heaving your limp form over his shoulder. Willing your team mate safe passage with every fibre in him, Poe had gritted his teeth and primed himself for a swift exit, hoping he had deciphered the controls enough to actually fly this thing. He had taken off as Sion all but threw himself and you over the access ramp and on to the ship, the door shushing closed just in time as the Troopers barraged the craft with shots.

Hands gripping the controls for dear life, Poe had kept his eyes fixed on the skies, unable to turn around and look at you. He could hear you though. He could hear your tortured groans of pain as Sion lifted you on to a nearby cot and tried to tend to you. The sounds were like hell to listen to, but at least you were alive. Poe tried to hang on to that.

He exchanged a few efficient words with your squad member, merely to swap names and coordinates, and to emphasise he was an old friend of yours. He wanted desperately to be at your side. He wanted to deliver that hug he had promised you. But in that moment, he had a job to do. And he knew he had to focus up.

You had helped him find his way through the jungle, and if nothing else, Poe would show you he had become the pilot he had always promised. He would get you out of there safely, past the assault of the ground canons and pursuing TIEs. Through the thick clouds and canopy and protruding stone stacks.

Damnit, he would. He would finally take you to the stars, even if it was the last thing he ever did for you.

*****

You eventually wake up.

You wake up to warm, familiar eyes on you, just like you’d hoped.

Eyes as blue as summer skies.

Not exactly like you’d hoped, then, though the thought feels like a betrayal of the kind man before you.

Still, these eyes are smiling down at you, and you are grateful. You are ever so grateful. Honestly, you didn’t think he’d made it. You didn’t think you would make it.

“Thank Maker.” Sion breathes, stooping to kiss you your forehead, his lips lingering there.

You blink slowly, your eyes and your voice feeling like they haven’t been used in a while, piecing together the last things you remember.  

Your vision blurs with tears as you look at him again. Your throat is so dry that no words come out, so instead you rasp wordlessly and reach your hand weakly to Sion’s cheek. He flattens his palm on top of your own, pinning your hand firmly in place.

He leans to pour some water from the decanter on your side table, and helps you sit up and wet your lips, not rushing you in the slightest.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re safe.”, he shushes, encouraging you not to strain yourself.

“How long?” you eventually rasp.

“You’ve been out for a few weeks. We thought you were done for, quite honestly. But you’re a helluva fighter.”

You furrow your brows in understanding, feeling out your injuries, as you slowly stir your body.  

“Mission?” Your voice sounds like gravel, but you can’t seem to shake it off.

“We did it.” Sion informs, his tone grateful yet disbelieving. “We got the intel and we acted on it. Took down a few of their militias. Saved a lot of people from that blasted labour camp. Thanks to you, baby.”

You are relieved, but the tension isn’t able to leave your body quite yet. You have one question that seems even more pressing.

“The pilot?” you rasp, holding a breath.

Sion smiles, slipping your hand back down to the mattress and clasping it tightly. He shakes his head in amusement. “Poe fucking Dameron. Wow, that was a wildcard. Helluva pilot that guy- for a New Republic flyboy.”

“Sion.”, you steer, needing an answer.

“He’s fine, baby. His little round friend too. He’s a lot different than I would have expected, from all of the stories you’d told me, though. Not quite what I imagined.” There’s an odd quality to Sion’s voice all of a sudden, which you can’t quite put your finger on. But you’re too tired to explore it.

You close your eyes in relief, unable to do much more than that, everything feeling heavy. “Is he…?”

“He couldn’t stay.” Sion explains, inferring your question and gently stroking his hand up and down your arm.

You keep your eyes closed. You wouldn’t get the reunion you hoped for then. That’s the thing, you supposed; when paths cross, it is simply that. Your trajectories would continue diverging from there.

“Can I do anything for you, honey?” Sion asks softly.

“Feel weak.”, you state plainly, sluggishly, finally opening your eyes and letting Sion search yours.

“Ok, get some rest. I love you, so much.” Sion whispers sweetly.

“I love you.”, you return, and it is true. It is true.

It may not be the kind of love that sits deeply at the root of you. But, Sion? At least Sion always stayed with you.

Still, you hadn’t realised quite how much you missed Poe Dameron; not until you had a chance to stop missing him; to be reunited.

You’d missed that chance, for now. Somehow though, you can’t shake the feeling that your paths will cross again.

In the meantime, you think about him with a quiet pride. He was a “helluva pilot”.

You were happy for him. That’s what Poe had always wanted.

***

The last few weeks had been hell for Poe. The not knowing. Assuming you wouldn’t make it, but clinging to the slimmest hope that you might.

Poe is beyond relieved when a message is passed from his New Republic Commander to inform him that you made it. It’s brief, coded, and only meant to be clear to him, but he catches the meaning, and he has to thank his lucky stars that it came through. Poe is so relieved at the news that he drops to his knees in the middle of the training room, leaning his head into BB-8 and paying no mind to the strange looks he’s receiving from his fellow recruits as tears of relief and gratitude cascade down his cheeks.

He crouches in place, the memories of that day seared into him. More vivid even than anything that is happening now, around him, as he replays it in his mind.

Poe couldn’t stay with you. Not as long as he’d wanted to.

The truth was, he’d stayed for hours. He’d stayed until he could barely see from tiredness, but he had refused to leave you. The truth was he had wanted to stay with you ever so much. The truth was, he suddenly couldn’t understand why he ever would have left your side. But, of course, he couldn’t stay to tell you that.

He had stayed, until Sion had returned, slipping his hand into yours instead, and making Poe feel like an intruder. Even though he knew you first. Knew you best. Knew you still.

Your squad – what was left of it- were picking-up base and relocating to a different system, with immediate effect. No doubt once there, the team would disappear again, until the next mission. Going dark.

Poe contemplated following with you, but as soon as Sion entered the room, he felt like there was no space for him. No space at all. He knew it was best that he left, and Sion did little to dissuade him.

Poe’s only passage out of there had been a Resistance vessel, who had arrived to offer support to the insurgence as soon as they’d caught wind of their position that fateful day. Poe’s exploits in piloting you (and the intel) out of there had, apparently, caught the attention of one of the Resistance fighters, who offered to drop him back to his own base on their route out of the system. He couldn’t exactly refuse the ride; the special forces’ general wasn’t exactly forthcoming in facilitating a pick-up. Apparently, the Republic couldn’t be trusted with their location – not even a temporary one.

So, Poe had left you, not knowing if he’d ever see you again. Before he’d left, he’d turned back to Banna, his hand clinging on to the door frame just as you clung on to life; desperately. “Did… did she ever talk about me?”

“Dameron?” Banna mused quietly, as if searching his memory. “Sorry, I can’t say you came up, bud. She has that effect though, huh? Hard to forget?”

Poe set his jaw and nodded softly, trying unsuccessfully to mask the hurt he was feeling. Besides, he had other priorities aside from himself. “You’ll stay with her?”

Banna nodded, bristling slightly as Poe’s eyes interrogated his with an unexpected ferocity. Finally, Poe had dropped Banna’s gaze, and had thrown one last, helpless glance at you, before putting his head down and traipsing along the corridor - alongside the Resistance General who was his ticket out of there.

“I hear you’re quite the pilot, kid.”, she had offered brightly, though Poe didn’t yet look up at her. “I can’t say I’m shocked that it runs in the family. Your parents were quite something.” The woman’s voice shifted, like cloth becoming logged with blood. Heavy. Darkening. “I was so sorry to hear about your mother.”

He looked up then, alright, eyes wounded, as if the words attacked him. Softening though, when his eyes fell on pale skin and brown braids. Warm, empathetic eyes, creased at the corners. “I know you. You’re Leia Organa.”.

“I am indeed. So, what are you doing with the New Republic, kid? Don’t you know there’s a war?” Leia’s voice was warm enough, comforting enough, that Poe almost didn’t mind the accusatory questions. Still, he didn’t respond. “We could certainly use someone like you.”

Poe’s brows knitted together and he shook his head in adamant refusal. “I fudged my mission - was just a getaway pilot for someone else’s. I’m not the hero here.”

“Oh no. We’re not looking for heroes, kid.  Just good people, showing up to do the right thing.” Leia said plainly, yet also mysteriously. Poe wondered why everything she said sounded half-amused, as if she knew something he didn’t.

Poe was silent and Leia eased off on him, clamping a reassuring hand to his shoulder as they continued on their path to the ship, progressing up the access ramp. She purposefully softened her manner as they boarded.

“Look, you’ve had a long day, kid. You’ll have to forgive me - I like to cut to the root of things. Believe me, I’ve been told often enough how I can a little overbearing. Mainly by Han, but that’s a whole other story.” Leia winked at him. “First thing’s first. There’s a cot down one level where you can rest – a refresher too, if you’d like.”

Poe nodded and mumbled his thanks, making his way in the direction indicated.

“And, I’m sorry, about your friend. It’s a good job you were there to help.”

Leia faltered against the doorway for a moment, as if she could feel Poe’s pain when he looked back at her, over his shoulder. She gathered herself, smiling gently with her walnut eyes, and came to grip him firmly by the shoulders. At that, Poe’s eyes welled with tears, which Leia could tell he was making every effort to quell.

“Oh, kiddo.”, Leia scanned over his boyishly handsome features with sympathy. “You need a hug.”

It wasn’t a question, but Poe had nodded softly, allowing himself to be held, sinking into the rare comfort. This wasn’t the hug he never got to give you, but for the moment, it had to do.  Leia patted his back firmly, voice softly encouraging as she released him. “Come now. Keep that strong chin up, Dameron. Listen, head down and get cleaned up, and I’ll bring you some warm tea when you’re done, okay? Maybe we can talk some more, if you’d like.”

Poe liked the sound of that, and shuffled obediently away.

Leia offered a parting piece of reassurance to the back of his head. “You did the right thing, Poe. That’s the most anyone can ever hope for.”

Still crouching on the floor, the words of Poe’s Commander are mere background blur as he reels from knowing you’re safe, relief flooding his bones, cleansing them of worry. But as soon as the wave of relief subsides, something else is free to rise to the surface. The strength of it compels Poe to his feet, his chin angled up at his Commander, his gaze strong and steady.

“Why didn’t you send a squad in?”, he asks, voice rich and heavy with conviction. Much less boyish than his Commander has been used to. It causes him to shrink back.

“Excuse me?” the Commander responds indignantly, affronted by the insubordinate question.

“Their troops were there without reinforcements.” Poe continues forcefully, assuredly, and his Commander catches on that he’s talking about a three-week old incident. “If I hadn’t crashed, they wouldn’t’ve made it. You told me they were our allies? But y’ didn’t send us in to help. That’s no way to treat our friends. Leaving them alone like that…” Emotion, passion overloads Poe’s voice, as he wags his finger pointedly at his so-called leader.  

“Dameron, I believe you may wish to check your attitude.”, the Commander intones firmly, trying to get a grip on the situation as ripples of excitement shimmy through the group of recruits.

“My attitude? Kriff my attitude! You tell me we’re doing the right thing here. Why didn’t you do the right thing?”

“You’ll sit today’s flight out, Dameron.”, the commander orders, voice clipped, volume raised. Grounding the kid seemed to be only punishment he took any heed of. “Now go back to your quarters before I ground you for the month.”

Breath seething in and out of him, Poe stalks to his bunk, then begins pacing back and forth over the floor, attempting to burn off his anger. He had come here with grand designs; to be a hero. To be the best. Like his parents. Like the other fighters he’d grown up around. But something about the Republic had niggled at him. His record was besmirched by misconduct records and disobedience, merely for doing what he felt in his gut was the right thing. The very things the Resistance seemed to be doing without question.

Poe was confused. Lost. So far from home. His path was diverging too far from everything he once knew to be true. He thought of you. He thought of his mother. He thought of Leia. His heroes. Because all of you were good people, doing the right thing. He’d left Yavin wanting to become the best. But along the way had he forgotten why he was doing it?

“Any luck Beebs?” Poe tosses down at the droid as he continues pacing.

BB-8 beeps in response, informing Poe that he can’t reach you. That indeed, you must have gone dark. The droid asks whether Poe wishes him to try again.

“Nah.” Poe sinks to his bed glumly, cradling his head in his hands, foot still tapping on the floor with a nervous energy. He knows Beebs won’t be able to find you. Then, Poe has an idea.

“Beebs, can you get through to Leia Organa?”

Resolutely, BB-8 begins a transmission.

Poe is so shocked when there’s a response that he whips his head up toward the astromech unit. He has no idea what he’s going to say when Leia’s voice beams clearly out of the speaker. Yet at the same time he is entirely sure.

“General Organa? It’s Poe Dameron. I wanna defect to the Resistance.”

The droid wobbles and dips the ball of his head in excitement. BB-8 has never seen Poe more decisive. And it’s probably because he’s so sure that he’s doing the right thing.

To be continued.....

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[mangobilorian]

Crash Landing | (mature) i

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Genre: Fluff 

Words: 5352

Summary:  This was supposed to be a diplomatic mission between two peaceful neighbors to ensure that the Separatists wouldn’t invade your planets. And as the princess of your nation, you were expected to uphold proper decorum and exercise exact protocol at all times. So why were you laying on the jungle floor, stripped down to your under layers, curled next to a clone captain keeping watch of your tiny cave, miles away from the capital where negotiations were to be held?

White. White and blue. Those are the only colors at the forefront of your vision, aside from the black of the guns. In a stiff formation behind a robed man, are these… troops. Clones, you believe. All centered around the famed Anakin Skywalker. It has been quite a while since a Jedi or any outside military force graced your planet, much less your nation. But the creeping threat of Separatist forces would soon crash on your shores. And your nation, though prosperous, would not survive a Separatist attack without help.

“Greetings, princess. We’re here to escort you on a diplomatic mission to Theatis 06. I am Anakin Skywalker and this,” he points at a man who steps up beside the Jedi, “is Captain Rex.” The clone--Captain Rex-- salutes.

“We’ll protect you from any threat, princess. You can count on us.” You smile at the helmented man, bowing your head in return.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. Accompanying me are my handmaidens and private guards.” Next to you, three girls in modest garb bend at the waist, and two armed men also bow. “Shall we start our journey?” The Jedi nods and directs his men to board the ship. The Captain, however, positions himself to flank you. He walks with practiced precision, his gait calculated like a routine.

Before boarding the ship, you turn to wave at the people who came to see you off. Your parents weren’t there, but that was to be expected. While your mother had gone to Coruscant and you were sent to Theatis 06, your father had to stay and rule the country. The only people that came were the senator and select members of the upper and lower chambers of Congress. They wave back. These people were vultures, their smiles hiding something evil. It would be a relief to leave their grip, so you could finally breathe without faking amity or hiding disdain. One slip up on your part, and these politicians would feast on the royal family. But politics was never your strong suit, and being the princess was tiring enough. A gentle hand on your elbow interrupts your thoughts when you realize with a jolt that you hadn’t moved.

“Sorry, your highness. We have a tight schedule,” the captain says. Your face warms at the contact while your handmaidens’ eyes widen with something akin to fear and curiosity. The guards even assume a protective stance briefly before understanding that you were not threatened. They loosen their arms after you dismiss them with a nod. However, the captain doesn’t seem to notice the intricacy of the situation.

“I… it’s alright, Captain.” You forge ahead, not minding the shocked girls, their faces quickly smoothing over to appear as disinterested as before. Thankfully, the makeup that caked your face hid the creeping blush on your cheeks.

The ship was gray and overall uninteresting. It was your first time on a Republic ship, and the whole ordeal seemed a little too excessive. Why would anyone attack a peaceful meeting between neighboring planets? A simple military convoy was enough, but sending a Jedi seemed a tad too much.

“Princess! Oh, it’s so nice to meet you.” Bounding to your side is an over-eager Togruta. Unable to contain her excitement, she bounces on the balls of her feet. “I’m Ahsoka Tano. I’m Master Skywalker’s padawan. I’ve never met a princess before!” The girl beams up at you. Amazing. Not just one but two Jedi. What was the Council thinking?

“Nice to meet you too, Ahsoka Tano. Yes, I’m a princess, but it’s really nothing special. I’m just a human.” You let out a small, graceful smile. Softened eyes, relaxed posture, eyebrows curved upwards. The facade of a princess. A face to exude warmth and comfort to subjects and allies.

“You’re so cool! What’s it like? Do you have to marry a prince?” Ahsoka sits down on a chair next to you, and you settle yourself into the stiff metal chair as well. In the corner of your eye, the captain stands, watching.

“Sometimes. You see, there aren’t many princes to choose from, so my parents pick someone worthy of ruling. In my country, the royal family is more than just a symbol. We have to be trained in politics, government, and military strategy,” you explain. “So marrying for lineage alone doesn’t cut it. One doesn’t have to be born a prince or princess to marry into the royal family. But royalty is quite tiring. Sometimes, I wish I had a break,” you chuckle. Startled, the handmaidens stare at you. Showing anything but happiness at your duty and family was definitely out of protocol. But who was here to enforce it? Certainly not the scheming congressmen. Besides, the young Jedi seems innocently curious.

“Wow… that sounds complicated. So... military strategy huh? Ever led a battle or maybe fought in one? I know quite a lot about fighting in battles, you know. I could take out battle droids with my eyes closed. And, as commander of the 501st, I’ve led a few missions myself,” she smirks, proud of her achievements. As she should be, you muse. The girl is young and already so confident in war. A sad reality.

“Alright, snips. Quit bragging,” Skywalker says, entering your section of the ship. “We’ll be there in an hour, princess.” He turns to leave for the cockpit, but the girl simply rolls her eyes and sticks out a tongue at her master’s back to which he replies in a similar fashion. The interaction causes a laugh to bubble past your lips. At this point, you feel that you’re handmaidens might be on the verge of fainting from all your breaks in protocol.

“That is very impressive, Miss Tano. War is a very hard thing. I personally have not led any military initiatives. My nation is a peaceful one, and I plan to maintain that peace. An official alliance with the prime minister of Theatis 06 would determine whether or not we can survive an impending Separatist invasion.” The girl nods in thought. She looks around, at your handmaidens, guards, and you. Probably analyzing the foreign clothes, the jewelry, the manner you and your people hold yourself. In a galaxy so vast, many cultures had nuances to everything. As her eyes wander, you eye the captain instead.

He’s standing tall and stiff. All the men had their helmets on, which unnerved you. Their eyes could be anywhere, looking at anyone. They were uniform in their blue and white, but the differences were also striking. While the captain had a pauldron, the others did not. The variances in paint differentiated one man from another. You knew that, as clones, they were supposed to look identical. But you had never seen a clone’s face before.

“Princess, is there something wrong?” You shake your head, not realizing that you had been staring at the captain. Maker, this was so embarrassing. You clear your throat before responding.

“No, captain. I was just… admiring your armor.” The man clearly wasn’t expecting your answer because he almost loses his balance. He coughs, almost shyly.

“Oh. Well, princess, there’s not much to admire. It’s just paint on plastoid.” He rubs the back of his neck with a hand, stance already loosened. The other clones glance at their captain before relaxing themselves.

“Nonsense. If you don’t mind, I’d be grateful to know what your paint signifies.” The handmaiden closest to you gasps. She tries to muffle it, but you catch it in time. Next to you, Ahsoka grins at the captain, unspoken words between them.

“Yeah, Rex. Tell us about your armor,” she teases. He sighs but obeys.

“These,” he points to the top of his helmet, “are jaig eyes. They’re a symbol of honor among Mandalorians. The pauldron is just a sign of rank. And the blue shows that I’m part of the 501st.” Hmm… Mandalorian symbol of honor, huh.

“So you’re a Mandalorian?” He shakes his head.

“Not really, your highness. Our template, Jango Fett, was a Mandalorian, and we know some basic Mando’a. But… we’re not born on Mandalore. Kamino is the closest thing to home.” His voice tapers off, probably due to some deeper feeling with Kamino, but you’re not certain. You’ve heard of the watery planet but never put much substantial thought to it, much like your knowledge about the clone army.

“I see. Thank you, captain, for sharing with me and my entourage. If you don’t mind, I’ll review the terms I’ll discuss with the congress of Theatis 06.” You pull out a datapad, glancing over at the information. By your side, Ahsoka seems to debate staying or leaving. Eventually, she stands up and heads for the cockpit, no doubt wanting to bother her master. The datapad is light in your hands, but the content is heavy. Piles and piles of documents condensed in one small piece of technology. Documents which, if used correctly, would earn you a formal military alliance with Theatis 06. If you lost the datapad, you’re sure that your parents and Congress would personally wring your neck.

The handmaidens relax beside you, finally relieved. This is what good princesses do, you mutter in your head. They focus on their task and don’t break silly rules. Rules set to protect your throne and reputation but silly nonetheless.

The silence and cold of space is not foreign to you, but it’s not common either. You rarely leave your planet, much less your system. Maybe once or twice a cycle, you go off-world for diplomacy or recreation. When you do leave, it’s always the same place. If it’s not Coruscant, it’s Naboo. If not either of those planets, it’s Yidone, Theatis 04, or Theatis 06. On its own, none of those planets were boring. But it gets tiring quickly, especially as a princess. However, that’s probably the spoiled, privileged part of you complaining. Your life of comfort is unimaginable to that of the impoverished people in your nation, the ones being sold into the disgusting sex trade, or those who suffer under an infinite number of tragedies. All of their lives, already horrible, would be even more wrecked under Separatist forces. So you push on with your boredom and complaining. For the sake of your people.

Just as you put your datapad down, a loud crash hammers the right side of the ship. Gasping, you grip the handles of the chair to stabilize, but your handmaidens aren’t so lucky. All three of them are flung from their seats and onto the floor, struggling to stand up. Your guards try to reach you, but they too are knocked off their feet.

“What is going on, captain?” You ask, almost frantically, at the approaching clone. On unsteady feet, he eventually stands in front of you, bracing himself. In this position, you won’t be forced out your chair with the clone acting as a barrier.

“Not sure, your highness. Doesn’t sound too good, though.” Another crash, this time from the top of the ship, further unbalances you. Your body surges forward, but the captain latches onto your forearms, pulling them into his chest. His chest plate digs into your arms, but at least you’re not sprawled on the floor like your companions.

A voice crackles from the captain’s comm. “Rex? Get the princess into an escape pod. A Separatist ship is firing at us. Hurry,” urges Skywalker.

“But, sir, what about you and Ahsoka? Wouldn’t a Jedi protect her better?” A second passes before a response.

“We don’t have time for this, Rex. Look, we’ll meet you down there after we settle this seppie ship. Get your ass to an escape pod, and bring the princess with you,” orders the Jedi.

“Yes, General.” The captain hauls you out your seat, an arm snaking around to grip your waist. In any other situation, you’d be blushing furiously, but only fear resides in your chest. Why was a Separatist ship already here?

The captain leads you down multiple hallways, weaving in out of the ship’s interior. All around you, other clones flit about, readying their positions for battle. In a relatively quiet area, the captain pushes a button open to reveal an escape pod. He quickly positions you inside before taking his own place. He settles in, and the both of you are launched into space without a second to spare.

As you calm your breathing, you begin to feel the tension in your muscles. The pod was obviously made for one person, as indicated by how small you had to curl yourself to allow for the captain to squeeze in. Knees pulled tight to your chest, there is still barely any space. The heavy jewelry adorning your neck only makes you tense up further. Stars, it’s getting hard to breathe. Next to the captain is a black bag, and you wonder how he had the time to grab it. You certainly didn’t remember him bringing it.

But if you two were stuck in the pod with a sole bag… that meant your clothes and, most importantly, your datapad was left behind. You didn’t even have a comm to contact your handmaidens and guards. The pain at the forefront of your head continues to build at the thought. No food, no contact, and no documents.

“Are you alright, princess?” You shake your head, trying to clear up your daze. His helmet is turned towards you, those blue jaig eyes staring.

“I think so. Why… how did the Separatists attack us?” The captain sighs, the breathy noise filtered out of his helmet.

“To be honest, it might be because they got intel about Republic ships coming to escort you. They probably realized that your planet would ally against them, and that didn’t sit well,” he considers. His hands are at the controls, expertly maneuvering them further away from the larger ship. Outside, you can see continuous beams of light aimed at the side of the craft, further jostling it. You hope everyone is okay. Especially your entourage and the excitable Togruta padawan. However, knowing the reputation of Jedi, Ahsoka and Skywalker will definitely survive the attack. You left your people in good hands.

“Captain,” you start, “this was supposed to be a diplomatic voyage. And yet, the Republic sends two Jedi and a legion of highly-skilled clone troopers. Did the Council know that something was going to happen to me? Granted, I am thankful for the extra security, but it seems excessive, does it not? And speak candidly. It’s only us two.” You shift slightly to angle your body to face him, tucking your knees under yourself. He doesn’t respond immediately, opting instead to stare out at the approaching planet of Theatis 06.

“I’m not authorized to say too much, and frankly, I don’t why we were sent either. So many other planets could use our help to directly fight off the seppies. Yet… here we are,” he sighs. “But I promise to keep you safe no matter what. As for your people on the ship, they will be taken good care of. Don't worry, princess.”  The crackle of the comm drives your attention to the console.

“Rex? Are you and the princess alright?” Ahsoka’s voice carries over, clear concern lacing her tone. Somewhere behind her, Skywalker’s commands ring out, ordering the men to keep order.

“We’re okay, commander. How is the situation over there?” The sounds of grunts and chaos pass through the comm before she speaks again.

“We’re--ugh-- fine, Rex. Just. Trying. To--kriff--stabilize this ship. See you on-”

Before the captain could respond, a loud crash sends your small pod hurtling in circles.

The momentum dizzies you, and you blindly reach out for something to grab on. Your hands tightly grip the closest thing, the captain’s arm, while the pod continues to spin. In this moment, his plastoid-covered arm and the floor below were the only solid things that existed. In front of you, the captain curses, trying to stabilize the craft to no avail.

The black color of space mixes with the blue and green of Theatis 06, circles and swirls of light and flashes. A heavy feeling of bile threatens to climb out your throat, but you push it down.

“Brace for impact,” orders the captain, and he moves away from the pod’s controls. Quickly, he encases you in his arms, one hand tucked behind your head, pulling you close to his chest. In a moment of clarity, you wrap your arms around his torso just as his free hand grabs the nearby bag and holds it behind you. He successfully entangles the two of you, making you as compact as possible. You shiver at the excessive contact. It’s been so long since you had prolonged touches with someone, much less a hug for survival. Overhead, a beeping noise indicates an oncoming collision.

You feel it before you realize. As your pod enters the atmosphere, it spirals further out of control at even faster speed. In space, it was merely uncontrollable loops. But as you crash into Theatis 06, the air pressure forces your small spacecraft to act as a bullet. There was no way you were going to survive the crash.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. Already, you’re praying to the Maker and to the Force or whatever higher power exists that you and the captain will survive. You just wish you could see your parents and country one last time. You hope that-

The sound of rustled tree tops interrupts your thoughts, jostling the two of you. As you peer up at the captain's helmet, the pod hits the ground, the impact shaking you to your very core. And everything goes black.

*****

It’s beautiful. The ocean waves pull up against the shore before receding back, its foamy crest creating shapes of all sizes. On the horizon, the three moons of your planet begin rising, the deep hues of red and purple illuminating the water. Next to you is someone in a full suit of armor. Mostly white with blue paint marking it. Behind him is a robed person. They take off the hood, revealing themselves. But they don’t have one face. Like a slideshow, the faces of politicians, your handmaidens, yourself , melt together. The person raises their hand, and the barrel of a blaster is pointed right at you and--

You sit up, gasping. The air in your throat is dry: suffocating and scratchy. You try to pry off your necklaces to alleviate the pain to no avail.

It was just a dream. A wonderful dream at the start but… it devolved to something much sinister. You crack your neck, stretching your arms out only to hit something hard. And that something groans . Immediately, you open your eyes to see a passed out Captain Rex laying next to you.

Slowly, pieces of your voyage and subsequent crash come together in your mind, and you realize that you probably landed on one of Theatis 06’s numerous jungles. Grunting, you stand up, joints cracking in protest. The top part of the pod was completely gone, as is a side piece. You hobble over to control panels, trying to see if the comm worked. Sadly, the whole thing seemed destroyed. This was worse than you thought.

You had one crashed escape pod, no way to contact your escort group, and one sleeping clone trooper.

“Princess?”

Well… that makes zero sleeping clone troopers. You turn to the captain to see him rise to his feet. He stretches briefly before joining you next to the control panel.

“Does anything work?” His voice is scratchy, with a hint of warmth despite being filtered. You give a defeated sigh. After button smashing the console in frustration, there is still no sign it was operable.

“Unfortunately, nothing does. I guess we’re stuck here momentarily, captain.” He doesn’t say anything, opting to grab the discarded bag on the ground. He lugs it over himself, wearing it like a backpack and motions for you to follow him.

“We’ll travel to the closest city and find a way to send our coordinates to General Skywalker. For now, we should get some shelter and stay out of danger.” You nod, satisfied. The captain looks around then, seeing a viable path, jerks his head in that direction and walks off. You follow behind him, making sure to not snag your clothes on the flora.

As you journey onward, sweat begins to drip down… everywhere. Your face, neck, back. It gathers underneath your jewelry, seeping into your heavy robes. The cloying heat of the jungle was suffocating, the humidity clinging to every part of you. You can only imagine how much heat the captain had to endure under his armor.

The jungle wasn’t a quiet place. Sounds of birds chirping, distant animal growls, and your own footsteps echoed off the forest floor. In another time, this trip would be considered pleasant. You were, after all, surrounded by beautiful, exotic nature. But the reality of the situation only deepened the further you walked.

Next to you, the captain stayed silent. He dutifully carries the bag, twin blasters at his sides, and head aimed forward the entire time. Occasionally, he steadies you with a free hand when you slip on a rock or trip over a root. Even then, he doesn’t say a word. With each step, your muscles continue to ache. Your leg muscles are especially sore, and the back of your head is tender at the touch, probably due to the crash.

After what feels like hours, the captain finally stops moving. You, however, don’t notice, and collide right into his back, almost sending the two of you flying forward. You apologize under your breath then look to see why the captain had stopped.  

A cave. A small cave with vines covering the entrance. You would have missed it if the captain hadn’t seen it. He steps towards the mouth of the cave, brushing aside the vines. You enter after him, and sit down on the ground. You sigh in the relief at the reprieve from walking. The captain sets the bag down in front of you and opens it.

Peering into the bag, you see a medkit, a canteen, extra ammo, a comm, and… rations. Maker, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you saw those rations. Only now, the ache and noise of your stomach was noticeable.

The captain also settles down on the ground, legs spread apart, knees bent. He looks so relaxed--too relaxed-- for someone who was stuck with a princess in a foreign forest. He sorts through the supplies methodically, like he’s taking inventory.

You shrug off your heavy clothing, groaning at the air that hits your skin. Off goes your cloak, then head wrap, and lastly your skirt. All you’re left with is a black layer meant for temperature regulation and sight blaster protection. On top of that is a loose cotton slip dress, allowing the miniscule breeze of the jungle to provide you with some cooling. You try to remove your jewelry, but… you don’t know how to. You’ve never done it yourself.

“Captain? Would you mind removing my necklaces for me?” The helmet jerks up, interrupted from his organizing.

“Of course, princess.” He stands up and positions himself behind you. He shrugs off his gloves, bare, tanned hands reaching to the clasps. Grunts of concentration filter out of his helmet, probably in confusion at the locking mechanisms. It was, to his credit, a pretty complicated piece of jewelry. After a minute or two of struggle, the necklaces come loose. He sets it aside, on top of your discarded clothes.

“I’ll start a fire, stay here.” He starts to get up, but you grasp his wrist.

“This is a rainforest, captain. All the wood is wet and won’t burn. Try looking for the eyti leaves instead.” You describe the plant to him in detail, watching him nod in confirmation.

“I’ll be back, your highness. Here,” he reaches to his side and pulls out a blaster, “for emergencies.” He sets off, disappearing past the vines.

The air is thick around you, the urge to sleep becoming more tempting. You don’t even realize your eyes were closing, and jostle awake when you hear the snap of a twig. Snap .

Crack .

You rise slowly, clinging to the side of the cave. You brush aside a few vines, gripping the blaster until your knuckles turn white. You hold your breath and look out.

Green eyes. Massive green eyes stare right at you. Stars, that was a massive feline. You wrack your head for information regarding Theatis 06 jungle cats. You’re sure you learned about them somewhere in foriegn history class. But the growl leaving the cat’s bared mouth shakes you out of your thoughts. Stay calm. You’ll stay calm, move slowly, and breathe at a steady pa-

The cat lunges at you, and you raise your armed hand on instinct, frantically trying to pull the trigger. A shot rings around the area, and the cat slumps down, falling hard. The heavy thunk of its body ruffles the forest floor. You release the breath you were holding. Wait.

The blaster mark wasn’t on its front. It was on the cat’s back . From your periphery, Captain Rex steps out from between the trees. He marches over to you, setting down the eyti leaves before grasping your shoulders.

“Are you alright, princess?” You nod mutely. He leans down and picks up the blaster from the ground. You didn’t even know you’d dropped it. If he hadn’t been there… you don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened.

“I’ll start the fire.” The captain’s hands leave you, the absence of his warmth making you frown for a brief second. He piles the leaves into a mound in the middle of the cave floor. “I’ll get some rocks,” he starts, but you hold up a hand.

“I’ll do it. I’ll stay close, don’t worry.” Before he could protest, you’re already out of the cave. The search for rocks isn’t difficult, but halfway through it registers that you left the blaster. Well… you hope those jungle cats don’t travel in packs. Your small expedition was pleasant. The course you set wasn’t too far from your cave, and you get to admire the jungle without your restrictive clothes and jewelry.  

After a few minutes in the heavy heat, you gather enough rocks for a small pit to contain the eyti leaves. You use your shirt to hold the rocks, stretching the fabric to a concave and containing them. You return to find the captain at the mouth of the cave, stiff and wary, a hand ready on his blaster. He only seems to relax once he sees you.

Together, you set up the fire pit, but don’t light it yet. The captain leaves the cave with a knife, mentioning how he had to skin the dinner. You hobble over to the comm to see if you could connect to any signal. Nothing. You were too far to contact anyone. You slump in your position and stare at the cave wall. How did things get so bad?

After a while, the captain returns with the skinned meat of the jungle cat. Together, you start the fire and prepare some sticks to use for skewering the meat. Outside, the insects buzz and the frogs croak, the darkness sweeping over to indicate night. The transition between light and dark begins.

The two of you cook the meat in silence, leaving you to ponder. With each piece of meat that’s done, you plop it into your mouth with no hesitation. It tastes… like the green hens from back home. Pretty unseasoned and a little lean, but not horrible. The captain doesn’t eat his pieces immediately, setting them aside when he’s done.

Soon enough, you’ve eaten through your share, satisfied and full. A large dinner without using the precious rations is a success in your book. The captain, however, has yet to eat his food. Once all his pieces are cooked, he brings his hands to his helmet and tugs it off and… you’re speechless.

Light blond hair atop a well-structured face. Eyebrows that arch beautifully, a sharp nose, and a prominent jawline, the hard lines of stress and war prominent on his forehead. The thin line of his lips are downturned. And his eyes . The hooded, gold-brown eyes that reflect the flickering firelight. This man might have been the most handsome you’ve ever seen. And there’s a whole army of people who look just like him.

“Princess? Something wrong?” You jolt at his question. Kriff, this was the second time you had stared at him today. Heat warms your cheeks. You cough into a closed fist.

“Nothing’s wrong, captain. And you can call me by my name. I think we’re past formalities.” He lets out a small smile but shakes his head.

“Don’t think I can do that, your highness. Have to follow orders and call you formally.” You pout but don’t respond, instead taking the time to further admire him. His voice is even more captivating without the helmet. Maker, it was so smooth and melodic yet stable and- kriff when were you so attracted to a voice ? He starts eating, but those ochre eyes flit to yours, and you turn away.

To distract yourself, you pick up the canteen of water, and take a few sips. As you search through the contents of the bag, you find a compact mirror. You open and see… something horrible.

Your makeup has been smudged to all hell. The gold of your lipstick is smeared down to your chin, and the white paint on your face is half gone. The intricate golden markings that decorate you are no more than muddied lines, and there are visible sweat trails that erased the color on your forehead. You were such a mess. While you look like a melted dolly, the captain sits there looking all majestic. This was so unfair .

“Is everything ok, princess?” You close your gaping mouth and turn to the captain.

“You never told me that I looked like this ,” you frown, pointing at your face. “I look horrible!” The captain chuckles, the breathy sound sending shivers to your chest.

“With all due respect, I didn’t think it was my place to point it out. And you don’t look bad, either. We just crash landed in the jungle. Of course your makeup would be ruined.” His eyebrows arch, confused at your frustration. You huff.

“It’s just so unfair. You get to look like… that , and I’m here looking like a blurrg stepped in paint and walked over my face!” You bring a hand to your forehead in exasperation. Sure, you were being dramatic, but a princess should never have to be in such a sorry state. The captain has the nerve to look even more bewildered.

“I’m not sure I understand, princess. I look normal, like all my brothers.” A grumble about how he’ll never understand your predicament escapes your lips. The captain reaches for one of your discarded clothes and sets the lip of the canteen on top, dampening the fabric. “Here,” he gestures, “so you can wash up.”  You grasp at the cloth, gently swiping at your face. Paint stains the rich, expensive robe, but you don’t really care.

“Thank you,” you croak, face feeling fresher and cleaned. The captain nods at you, arranging your clothes to form a pile.

“Sleep. I’ll keep watch,” he advises.

“Shouldn’t we take turns? It’s no use if you’re tired tomorrow.” He considers your words then sighs.

“Alright. I’ll wake you when it’s your turn,” he decides. You lay your head atop your clothes, settling down on the hard ground. Pebbles dig at your back, and your neck aches at the lack of support, but it’s not as horrible as you would’ve imagined.

“Good night, Captain Rex,” you whisper, eyes already closing. The exhaustion from your long hike takes over your body. It seems that your adrenaline from the day is long gone.

“Good night, princess.”