#I HAVE NO CHILL🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jetii · 1 day ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Nineteen: Different

Chapter WC: 8,439

Chapter Warnings: Some description of panic attack-adjacent emotions/sensations

A/N: I have a love/hate relationship with this chapter. I lost about half of my edits on this one the other day, and it was not an enjoyable experience. I'm tired of looking at it so! Here! Enjoy two idiots in denial definitely not having a date.

Also want to shout out this amazing art of Rex and Goldie by @ghostymarni!!! I literally gaze at it every day in awe 😭🙏

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

There's no reason for you to be nervous.

It's just lunch between friends. It's not a big deal.

And yet, your hands are sweating, and your stomach is fluttering, and you can't stop thinking about Rex. The way he'd laughed, or the sound of his breathing, or how nice his smile is. Your nerves are on edge, and you can't seem to focus, your mind wandering to places it shouldn't.

You're pathetic, you think. You've seen Rex a thousand times. This isn't even the first time you'd shared a meal at Dex's, and you weren't nearly this nervous. It's the same thing, but somehow, it's different. And the difference is throwing you off.

You take a deep breath, and you straighten your jacket, smoothing the front. The weather is unseasonably cold today, the clouds hanging low in the sky, and the chill is seeping through your clothes, the wind whipping through the streets. You glance up at the sky, squinting at the gray horizon. The Temple bears down on you from the distance, the stone a pale reflection of the growing storm, and you grimace and look away.

You're standing outside Dex's, the neon sign above your head casting a soft glow over the walkway, the letters blurring as the rain begins to fall. It's not too bad yet, but the street is mostly empty, the pedestrians choosing to take shelter inside the nearby shops and restaurants.

You should be inside too, but you can't bring yourself to sit alone and wait. You'd rather be somewhere you could pace, your hands clasped behind your back, your mind racing.

You're supposed to meet Rex here. He said he had a meeting that would run late, and he'd meet you when he was done. So here you are, waiting, even though it's freezing and raining and miserable.

And the fact that you're waiting outside, instead of taking cover like any sane person would, is just one more indication of how far gone you are.

The rain is growing heavier, the water dripping down the sides of your hood, and you can't help but glare up at the sky. You could be inside, where it's warm and dry, but no. You're out here. Because you're a sentimental idiot, and the idea of spending any amount of time with Rex has completely destroyed your sense of reason.

A droplet of water slips past the edge of your hood, trailing down your cheek, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. When your hand falls, you notice a tall, broad figure approaching you quickly and with intent. You reflexively brace yourself for a confrontation, your hand drifting to the saber tucked into your jacket, but then you feel it. A familiar presence. A glow of warmth in the Force.

Rex is walking towards you, his shoulders hunched against the rain, his expression hidden beneath the shadows of his hood. It's no wonder you didn't recognize him immediately. You've never seen him out of armor before. The dark pants and heavy coat are an unusual sight, and without the plastoid plating, he seems...smaller. More vulnerable. More human. Like any other civilian.

He's almost reached you when his eyes meet yours, and he breaks into a grin, his steps quickening. His face flushed, and he's breathing hard, as if he'd run the entire way. The realization makes you smile. You know he'd been running late. You hadn't realized he'd run.

"Sorry I'm late," he pants. "General Skywalker had a few last minute questions for me, and..."

"It's fine. I wasn't waiting long," you lie.

You push yourself off of the wall, your arms crossed tightly, trying to ward off the chill. Rex's eyes dart over you, and he frowns, his eyes narrowing.

"You're shivering. Why didn't you go inside? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you insist. You're not sure how to answer the first question. You could tell him the truth, that you didn't want to wait in there, alone with your thoughts, but it seems silly. So, you just shrug, giving him a sheepish smile. "It's just a little rain."

He shakes his head and gives you a disapproving look. "It's not just a little rain--"

"Are you really going to argue with me about weather right now?"

He stares at you for a long moment, and then he takes a step closer, the toes of his boots nearly touching yours. His hands rise, and his fingers grasp the edges of your hood, pushing it back to reveal your face. The fabric is wet, the strands of your hair around your forehead plastered to your skin, and Rex grimaces, his fingers brushing the locks away.

"You're gonna catch a cold," he chides. He's not looking at your face, his attention focused on untangling a lock of hair that's become caught in your earring.

"It's just water, Rex," you grumble, but there's no heat behind it. You're too busy watching him, your gaze fixed on his face.

"I'm pretty sure it's illegal to let a Jedi freeze to death." He smirks, and his eyes finally meet yours, his fingers still tangled in your hair. He manages to free it, and he tucks the loose strand behind your ear. "They'd throw me in prison. Or worse."

You swallow, and you try to ignore how close he is, or how good he smells, or how easy it would be to lean forward and press your lips to his. The two of you are standing close enough that you can see each other's breath fogging in front of you, and it feels intimate, like something you're not supposed to be seeing.

"That would be unfortunate," you manage, and you take a step back out of his reach, his hands falling to his sides. You give him a faint smile, trying to regain some sense of calm. "For you, at least."

Rex lets out a soft chuckle and steps away, glancing over his shoulder at the diner. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

He places his hand on the small of your back and ushers you towards the entrance, the glass doors sliding open. A blast of warmth hits you, and you let out a sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders. It's not as crowded as usual, but the smell of food still hangs heavy in the air, and the din of conversation fills the room.

Rex removes his hand and waves down FLO, and the droid makes a beeline for the table near the back. You've been here so often that she's started to memorize your preferred booth, the one that's secluded enough to offer some privacy, and you're grateful for it. She's nothing if not efficient.

When the two of you reach the back of the restaurant, Rex removes his coat and drapes it over a hook next to the booth, and he takes your jacket as well, hanging it beside his. You take a moment to study him. The long-sleeved shirt he's wearing is fitted, and it shows off his toned body, the material clinging to his chest. You didn't realize just how much he filled out the armor. Now that he's not wearing it, it's hard not to stare. Your eyes trace the shape of his biceps, the curve of his pecs, the muscles that flex beneath the fabric.

Your mouth is suddenly dry.

You quickly pull your eyes away and settle into the booth, the vinyl squeaking under you. FLO reappears with two cups of caf and the carafe. She sets it down and takes your orders, her gaze shifting between the two of you as if she's analyzing the situation. You don't have to be a mind reader to know what she's thinking.

You can't really blame her. This is new. And the fact that Rex is out of his armor is strange, and you know it. You can only hope that she doesn't alert Dex to the fact that a certain clone captain has joined you again.

You shake your head and pour the caf, adding a generous amount of sugar to yours. Rex watches the process, his eyes lingering on the spoon, and you narrow your eyes.

"What?"

"How can you drink that?" he asks, his lip curling. "It's practically syrup."

You raise a brow as you stir, the liquid swirling in the cup, and you point at him with your spoon. "And how can you not? You have a sweet tooth, don't try to deny it."

"I have a healthy relationship with sweets," he retorts, taking a sip of his caf. "This is an addiction."

You roll your eyes and lean back in your seat, holding the cup with both hands. You blow across the surface, watching the steam rise, and you bring it to your lips, the warmth spreading through you. Rex is watching you, his gaze sweeping over your face, and he's got a strange look in his eyes. You can't quite read it.

"What?" you ask again, and this time, there's an edge of impatience to it. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He blinks, as if he's snapping out of a daze, and he swallows. “Like what?”

"Like I'm insane," you deadpan.

"I'm not," he assures you. His gaze darts away, and his cheeks flush, the tips of his ears turning pink. "It's just...you look different. I'm not used to seeing you out of your robes."

You glance down at your clothes, frowning. It's a simple outfit, nothing special. Dark pants, a light sweater, boots. Not exactly a fashion statement. You raise a brow, your eyes returning to his face.

"Well, I do have an off-duty wardrobe," you drawl, a smirk tugging at your lips. You take a sip of your caf, trying to hide your amusement. "I didn't realize you liked the robe look so much."

Rex's eyes widen, and he shakes his head, a look of panic flashing across his features. "That's not what I meant. I mean...you know...they're nice. But they're not, uh...I didn't..."

He trails off, and his face is red now, his cheeks flushed. It's endearing, how flustered he gets. You grin, and you rest your chin in your palm, gazing at him.

"Do I really look that bad?" you tease, and Rex's gaze snaps to yours, his brows knitting together.

"What? No, of course not." He frowns and leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. "You look..."

"Yeah?" You blink at him, feigning innocence, and his mouth twists.

"You're enjoying this," he accuses, his voice flat. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Maybe." You take another sip of caf and smile. "A little. Sorry."

Rex scoffs and shakes his head, his eyes rolling. "No, you're not."

"Okay, not sorry," you admit with a shrug, and you put your cup down, your arms crossing over your chest.

He huffs and leans back, and you grin, enjoying the slight pout on his lips. It's fun, riling him up, and you find that you want to do it again, just to see how he'll react. He's not as composed as he seems. He's got a temper, a sharp tongue, and when he's frustrated, the flush spreads all the way to his ears. You can't help but wonder what other reactions you can elicit from him. What would make him lose control? What would make him blush? What would make him...

Stop, you scold yourself.

You shift in your seat and pick up your caf, and the two of you sit in silence for a moment, sipping your drinks. It's not uncomfortable, but there's an edge to it, a tension that wasn't there before. You're not sure what's changed, but there's something different between you, and it's not just because Rex is out of armor. It's subtle, a shift in his energy, and it's not necessarily a bad thing. It's just...

Different.

You glance up, and you notice Rex's gaze flick away, the faintest hint of red staining his cheeks. It's almost imperceptible, but it's there. Your brow furrows, and your head tilts, a flutter in your stomach. Was he...

"So," you begin, clearing your throat, "what's this information you've got for me?"

"Ah." Rex shifts, reaching over to his coat and pulling a datapad from the pocket. He taps a few buttons, and then he slides the pad across the table, the screen facing you. “Here.”

You pick it up, and you're greeted with a grainy image of the Temple's hangar, its grand circular door turning down. At the end of the landing platform that slides out from the doorway is a sleek silver ship, its hull glinting in the light of the fading sun. The date in the corner shows the day of Master Qui-Gon's funeral.

You swallow hard.

"The footage was easy enough to find," Rex explains, his voice low. "It's not exactly classified. The logs are another story. Those were...well, I had to make some calls."

Your brows rise, and your head whips up. "Rex, you didn't..."

He shrugs and leans back in the booth, a smug smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"It's not illegal to have friends," he teases. "They owed me a favor."

You let out a startled laugh at the sound of your words being thrown back at you, and your hand rises to cover your mouth, your gaze dropping to the datapad. It's an obvious jab, one clearly meant to make you laugh, and despite the gravity of the situation, you find yourself smiling. You shake your head and turn back to the screen.

You watch as a tall, slender figure wearing a billowing cape strides toward the ship, and its cockpit opens to greet him. You recognize Dooku instantly. There's no mistaking his gait, the confidence of his stride, or his imposing height. He’s backlit by the setting sun, his silhouette casting a long shadow across the hangar floor.

Dooku steps aboard the ship and drops into the cockpit, and the engines begin to hum, the lights inside dimming. Then, the ship lifts off the platform and soars upwards, its tail arcing gracefully.

It's barely a speck on the horizon when another ship shoots out of the hangar in pursuit of it. It's small, utilitarian, meant for one person. One small person. There's a flash of light as it activates its thrusters, and the ship speeds after Dooku. After a few moments, it too vanishes completely from view.

The video ends.

Your eyes are burning, and there's a tightness in your throat, your jaw clenched. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, letting the air out slowly.

Dooku left the Temple.

Yaddle followed him.

You knew it. You've always known.

But, seeing it, actually seeing it, is more than you can handle.

The datapad falls onto the table with a clatter, and your hands tremble, your fingers clutching at your sleeves. You're struggling to keep your emotions in check, to maintain your composure, but it's becoming harder and harder. You're fighting a losing battle.

You knew, you remind yourself. You already knew.

But, this is different.

This is proof.

Your stomach is churning, the caf threatening to come back up, and the air around you feels thin, like you're running out of oxygen. The noise of the restaurant fades, replaced by a high-pitched whine and the ground beneath you starts to tilt. You're about to pass out. Or throw up. Maybe both.

"Hey."

There's a soft sound, like fingers tapping on glass, and you blink, your eyes focusing on a hand hovering in front of your face. It's Rex's hand. He's leaning across the table, his brows drawn together, and he's gazing at you with concern, his fingers reaching out to brush against your hand.

"Hey, come back," he murmurs. His hand wraps around yours, and he gives a gentle squeeze. "It's alright. Just breathe."

You suck in a breath and nod, forcing yourself to inhale and exhale. It helps, a little. The nausea fades, and the ringing in your ears is replaced by the sounds of the restaurant, the patrons chattering and Dex shouting orders. You can hear the rain pattering against the window, the distant rumble of thunder. The world is still spinning, and your heart is racing, but you're breathing again.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Rex argues, his tone blunt. His fingers stroke yours, and he glances over his shoulder, making sure no one's watching. "Do you want me to take you home?"

"No," you say quickly, your free hand moving to clutch at his wrist. You hold onto him, and he lets you, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. "No, I'm fine. I just...I need a minute."

He nods and sits back in his seat, his grip never wavering. You squeeze his hand, and he smiles.

"We can go somewhere else, if you want," he offers, and his voice is soft, his gaze sympathetic. "Somewhere quieter."

"No, it's alright," you assure him. You shake your head and take another deep breath, the air filling your lungs. The pressure behind your eyes is receding, and your heartbeat is starting to slow. You feel better, a bit calmer, and you're able to focus on his face, on his touch. "I'm okay. Really."

Rex nods, and he slowly releases your hand, taking his warmth with him. He leans back in his seat, his fingers tapping against the table.

"Alright," he sighs. He hesitates, and then his expression relaxes, his shoulders slumping. "So. That's the last of the security footage. And there's no record of either ship entering or leaving Coruscant airspace until Dooku's ship left the system the next morning."

"Which means..."

"She didn't leave." Rex's jaw tightens, and his eyes drop to the pad. "She never made it off-planet."

The confirmation makes your stomach drop, and you rub a hand over your face, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. None of this is anything more than what you suspected, but seeing it laid out in front of you is surreal, and it's a strange mix of vindication and heartbreak. You've known the truth for years, but there was always that nagging doubt, that tiny voice whispering that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.

You're not.

Yaddle's disappearance wasn't an accident, and she didn't run. She didn't abandon the Order, or you, and her death wasn't some tragic mistake. She was murdered. And the one responsible is sitting on the Separatist Council.

You swallow the lump in your throat and turn to him, your brows furrowed. "Did the impound logs show anything?"

"A ship matching that description was recovered at a private port," he explains. "The records are incomplete, and they don't show the name of the person who impounded the vessel, but it was listed as a 'wreck'. Unfortunately, it was scrapped years ago."

"A wreck," you repeat, the words tasting bitter. "That's convenient."

"Too convenient," Rex agrees.

You run a hand through your hair and exhale, and you stare at the datapad, the images of Dooku's ship burned into your memory. He killed her, and he tried to hide the evidence. He erased her from existence, and he made it look like nothing had happened. As if she had never been her. And he's getting away with it.

The injustice of it all is staggering.

"Thank you Rex," you murmur. "I know how risky this was. For both of us."

"It was nothing," he replies. He gives a small shrug, and he reaches forward, picking up the datapad. "I'll send everything to you from an encrypted server. And I'll keep digging, see what else I can find."

You glance up at him, and you can't help but wonder how he managed it. This is more than a favor. This is serious. Rex is putting himself in a position where his loyalty could be called into question, and he's doing it without hesitation. For you.

Sure, the two of you are friends, but this is dangerous. There's no reason for him to get involved, and the fact that he has is...well, it's confusing, to say the least. You're not used to people going out of their way for you, especially not someone who isn't a Jedi. Most of your friendships are born out of convenience. They're temporary, and fleeting, and you know better than to get attached.

This, though. This is different.

Rex is different.

You shake your head and reach out, placing a hand over his. "Rex, I'm serious. Thank you. Really. But, you've done more than enough. I couldn't ask you to--"

"You're not asking," he interrupts, his voice firm. "I'm offering. This is important to you. I want to help."

You stare at him, your mouth opening, and you find yourself speechless, unable to find the words to express your gratitude. There's a pressure building behind your eyes, and a lump in your throat, and you blink rapidly, trying to hold back tears. It's too much. Everything is too much.

"Why?" you whisper. "Why do you want to help?

His expression softens, and he lets out a long sigh, his eyes falling to the datapad. He's quiet for a long moment while you watch him, waiting for an answer. When it doesn't come, your mouth twists, and you move to retract your hand.

Rex moves faster.

He turns his palm up and catches your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. He doesn't speak, and his eyes are on his hands, but he seems determined to keep you close. You watch him, waiting for him to say something, but he just continues to run his thumb across your skin.

You don't dare to move.

"I..." He trails off, his words dying in his throat. He's looking at you now, really looking at you. His eyes are searching yours, as if he's trying to read your thoughts, to figure out what you're thinking.

You wonder if he knows how vulnerable he looks, or if he knows that you can feel his apprehension in the Force, a sharp tang in your mouth. He's struggling with something, something he doesn't want to admit. Something he's not sure he should.

"Rex," you prompt, and his grip tightens. "Tell me."

"I...I care about you," he breathes. "And I can't stand by and watch you suffer, not if there's something I can do to help. If I can make things better, even just a little bit, I want to try."

You blink at him, stunned. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth, and there's a strange sensation in your chest, like your lungs have forgotten how to work.

He cares about you.

The words echo through your mind, and they won't leave. They're stuck on repeat, playing over and over again, and it's all you can think about.

He's still holding your hand.

“You're my friend," he adds.

Oh.

Right.

You nod, swallowing hard. "I...Of course. Of course, you're my friend."

"Yeah. Friends," Rex mutters, and he's not looking at you anymore. His gaze has fallen to your hands, and he's staring at them as if they're something fascinating. Like they're a puzzle that needs solving.

The word stings.

"I just...you're important to me, and I want you to be happy." His grip tightens, and your breath hitches, a flutter in your stomach. "So, let me do this. Let me help you. Please."

You stare at him for a moment, the words echoing in your mind. There's no ulterior motive, no hidden meaning. He's simply being honest, and it's a raw, vulnerable kind of honesty, the sort of honesty that makes your stomach flutter. He cares. And, the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes are searching yours, makes you wonder if there's more to it. More than a friend should feel.

"Okay," you say. You take in a shuddering breath and smile, and his eyes flick back to yours. "Okay. Thanks."

"What are friends for?" He smiles back, and his thumb traces a pattern on the back of your hand, a gentle caress. He doesn't seem inclined to release you, and you're not sure you want him to.

Friends.

Right.

Friends.

You're his friend.

He's your friend.

It's a platonic gesture. A comforting touch.

Except, the way his thumb is moving across the back of your hand is not particularly friendly. It's more intimate than that, the movement slow, the contact lingering. And, the way he's looking at you, his eyes dark and warm, is not exactly platonic, either. You can't quite place the expression. It's affectionate, that much is clear, but it's more than that. You know it, and you think that Rex knows it, too.

This is a bad idea.

You don't want him to stop.

The sound of metal scraping against tile draws your attention, and the two of you break apart, his hand releasing yours. You hadn't noticed FLO approaching, but there she is, a tray in her hands. Her big yellow eyes stare down at you, the lenses flickering, the plates in her hands clacking as she tilts her head to the side. She seems...amused.

FLO sets the two steaming plates in front of you, and you thank her, reaching for your fork. She stares at the two of you for a moment longer, and then she turns and leaves, her gait slow and purposeful. Rex chuckles, his gaze following her.

"What?" you ask, your mouth already full. You didn't realize how hungry you were until the food was in front of you. Now, the smell is overwhelming, the spices and grease filling the air. You shovel the food into your mouth, chewing quickly.

"Nothing." He shakes his head and digs into his meal, his eyes still on FLO, a smirk on his lips.

You roll your eyes. "Come on, spit it out."

"Fine." He points at FLO with his fork. "I'm pretty sure she thinks we're...you know."

"What?"

He gives a half-shrug, a light blush staining his cheeks. "She thinks we're together. You know, a couple."

"Ah." You glance at FLO, who's standing behind the counter, watching the two of you. Your eyes narrow, and the droid's optic sensors seem to widen, her head jerking away.

You can't help but laugh.

"She does, doesn't she," you mutter as a flush creeps up your neck. You take another bite of food and chew thoughtfully, watching as Rex does the same. "Well, you are the only man I've ever brought here. Other than Obi-Wan, anyway. So, that might have something to do with it."

Rex chokes, and you look up, startled. "Are you okay?"

His hand shoots out, his palm waving in front of him, and he shakes his head.

"Yeah, sorry," he manages, his voice rough. He coughs and takes a sip of caf. He sets it down, his cheeks red, and his eyes dart away. "Sorry, I just...I'm the only one?"

"Mhm." You nod, resting your chin on the back of your hand. When he doesn't respond, you raise a brow. "Why is that surprising?"

"I guess it's not," he mumbles. He's avoiding your gaze, his eyes fixed on his plate. "But it's a little hard to imagine. You're..." He trails off, and he shakes his head. "Nevermind."

"What?" you ask, and there's a note of teasing in your voice. "What am I?"

"Nothing." He picks up his fork and spears a piece of food, lifting it to his mouth. "It's not important."

"No, tell me," you insist. You lean forward until you’re sure you're in his line of sight, and you tilt your head, giving him your best pout. "Please? For me?"

Rex barks a laugh, his eyes finally meeting yours as he puts his fork down. "Fine. But, if I do, will you stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" You blink at him, feigning innocence.

"That," he says, and his fingers point at his face, drawing an imaginary circle around his eyes. "The face. It's not fair."

You can't help but smirk. "What face?"

"You know what face," he accuses, but he’s smiling now.

"Fine. I'll stop," you concede, and you settle back in your seat, a triumphant grin on your lips.

"I mean, look at you," he sighs, gesturing vaguely towards you. "You're..."

Rex pauses, and he glances down at the plate, his fingers tapping against the table. He doesn't seem inclined to finish his thought, his brow furrowed, and his mouth twisted. You get the sense that he's not sure he should continue.

"Well, for starters, you're beautiful," he finally admits, his voice quiet. "Anyone with eyes can see that."

You blink, all trace of humor gone. The words hang in the air, and you can't help but stare at him, your heart racing. He'd said it so casually, as if it were obvious. As if it were a given. And maybe, to him, it was. The realization makes your face heat, and you shift in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position. It doesn't help.

"That's..." You hesitate, and then you clear your throat, shaking your head. "That's a good start."

Rex snorts. "Glad you approve."

"Go on," you say, nudging his foot under the table. "Keep going."

"Oh, so now you want compliments?" he drawls. He shakes his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. His tone is teasing, but there's a hint of nerves, a note of vulnerability. As if he's worried he's overstepped.

You're not worried.

You want to hear him say it.

"Don't be an ass." You poke him in the shin with your boot, and he chuckles. "I'm not the one who started it. Now, keep going."

Rex sighs, his eyes rolling. He leans back in his seat, his arms crossing over his chest. He looks amused, but also resigned, as if he's accepting his fate.

"All right, fine," he mutters. You shift, and his eyes follow the movement, the look on his face softening. "Where was I?"

"Beautiful," you supply. "I believe you were about to go into detail."

"Ah, right." He runs a hand over his hair, and he gives you a wry smile. "I'm afraid I'm not good at this, but...well, you're a beautiful woman. But, you're also smart, and funny, and you're surprisingly good with people for someone who claims not to be."

You huff a laugh. "Hey."

"And," he continues, ignoring you, "you're one of the strongest, most compassionate people I've ever met. You're brave, and dedicated, and...well, it's hard not to admire that. To admire you."

You blink, and the words settle, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You try to swallow, but your throat is tight, and you can't speak. You can't even think. You can't do anything but sit there and stare at him, your heart beating out of your chest.

"What?" Rex smirks, and his brows rise. "No smart remark? No witty comeback?"

"I..." You shake your head, and you try to form a coherent sentence, but all that comes out is a choked noise. You clear your throat and manage to stammer out, "That was...That’s a good list."

"A good list," he repeats, his tone dry. He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table, and his gaze sweeps over you, a smile tugging at his lips. "Are you blushing?"

"Shut up," you mutter. “It’s warm in here.”

Rex laughs, his foot nudging yours under the table. You kick his shin again, and he kicks back, a grin spreading across his face. You try to ignore the way his eyes sparkle, the way his lips curl, the way his dimple deepens. You fail.

You can't look away.

The booth is silent, the only sounds coming from the bustling restaurant around you. The rain is beating against the window, and you can see water running in rivulets down the glass out of the corner of your eye.

The world beyond the diner is gray and dull, the colors muted. Inside, though, is a different story. Everything seems brighter, warmer. More vibrant. You can't help but wonder if it's because of the man sitting across from you.

"So," Rex starts, his voice low. He shrugs. "I guess I am surprised. It's hard to believe that you've never had a..."

"What?" you prompt. You raise a brow, and you cross your arms, the corner of your mouth quirking. “A date? A lover? An admirer? A suitor?"

Rex laughs, and he shakes his head. "Any of those things. I guess I just assumed that, well, that they'd be lining up."

You snort and shake your head, and you're about to tell him that he's ridiculous when his words register. His voice had been casual, but his eyes had held an edge, a question. There was something hidden there, an unspoken query.

It's almost imperceptible, but you've become very familiar with his expressions. With him. He's not asking, he's probing. There's a part of him that wants to know. The same part that had asked if he was the only one.

It occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, there's a reason he's asking. And, if you're being honest, it's a reason that excites you.

"Well, I haven't had a lot of time,” you explain, your fingers picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. "Or a lot of patience. Or much of a desire, honestly. It's just been flings, here and there. Nothing serious."

Rex nods, his eyes falling to his plate. He picks up his fork, poking at a piece of food, but he doesn't eat.

"Not that I haven't been interested," you continue, and his eyes snap back to yours. "I have. It's just...it's not easy, dating a Jedi. There are rules, and expectations, and I've always been hesitant to..."

"Break them?" Rex supplies, his lips quirking.

"I was going to say 'take that risk'," you retort, a smirk on your lips. "But, yeah, 'break them' works, too."

"Ah." He nods and leans back in his seat, his fingers drumming against the table. "Right."

There's a beat of silence, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other. You're not quite sure what to say, and neither is he, it seems.

Rex's gaze darts away, and he takes a sip of his caf. You watch as he sets the cup down, his fingers drumming against the ceramic, his thumb brushing along its edge. His lips part, and his jaw works, but no sound comes out. You can feel his apprehension in the Force, the uncertainty that's bubbling beneath the surface. He's nervous. About what, you're not sure.

"Rex," you start, and your voice is quiet, almost hesitant. "What is it?"

"I'm trying to figure out if I should say this," Rex mutters, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

"Well, now you have to," you deadpan. You lean forward, your elbows resting on the table, and you rest your chin on your folded hands. "Go ahead. You won't offend me."

"That's not what I'm worried about," he huffs.

"Then, what are you worried about?"

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, he sighs, and his shoulders slump.

"Are you..." He pauses, his expression contorting. "Aren't you and General Kenobi...?"

Your brows shoot up. "Obi-Wan?"

"Yes." Rex clears his throat and looks away, his cheeks flushing. "Sorry, it's none of my business. I'm just...curious."

"Oh." You take a deep breath, and then let it out slowly, your eyes fluttering shut.

You should have seen this coming. It's not the first time you've been asked, and you know it won't be the last. It's a reasonable assumption. And Rex, well, he's a smart man. He's no doubt picked up on the subtle glances, the casual touches, the familiarity of your conversations. He's a soldier, and he's trained to notice details. He would have picked up on the signs. The rumors. The gossip.

But the fact that he's asking about it is something else entirely.

You open your eyes, and you see that he's watching you, his expression wary, his body tense. His hand is resting on the table, his fingers drumming a rhythm against the surface. It's a nervous habit, and it's one that you've noticed before, but never thought much about. Now, it's all you can think about.

You wonder if he's been thinking about this for a while. If the questions have been sitting at the back of his mind, gnawing away at him. If he's been avoiding asking you about it, afraid of the answer. If he's worried about what will happen when he gets it.

You decide that it's best to be honest.

"I'm not," you say quietly. "We're not."

"Oh," he breathes.

"But, we were," you admit. "For a long time."

The rhythmic tapping of his fingers suddenly halts. "Oh."

You give a small shrug, and you pick up the mug, bringing it to your lips. It's cold now, and bitter, the liquid barely a few drops, but it's enough to give you something to do, something to distract you from the heat that's creeping up your neck.

Rex looks like he's going to be sick.

You take a long sip and swallow, the taste sour on your tongue. You put the mug down, and you rub a hand over the back of your neck, a sigh escaping you.

"It was years ago," you continue. "We were kids, and we thought that...well, we thought it would be a good idea. And recently, I guess we tried again, but..." You trail off, and your eyes meet his. "It didn't work out. It was just too much, you know? We were never really compatible, not like that. But it took us a long time to figure that out."

"I see," he murmurs. His brows furrow, and he seems to be processing this new information. "Are you still..."

"No." You shake your head. "No, not anymore. It's over. We're just friends. Good friends. And that's it."

"Oh,” he says again.

Rex stares at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. You stare back, waiting for him to speak, but he doesn't. Instead, he picks up his mug, draining it in a single gulp.

The Force swirls with conflicting emotions. There's curiosity, and relief, and something else. Something warm and sweet and achingly familiar. Something that makes your stomach flutter. You try not to read too much into it.

"So, yeah." You take a deep breath and let the air out slowly. "That's, uh, that's my love life in a nutshell. Or, lack thereof."

You force a smile, and Rex's lips twitch, a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. His eyes are still fixed on yours, and you can't quite read his expression. It's thoughtful, and calculating, and a little bit smug. His hand lifts to cover his mouth, his thumb grazing his lower lip, and he gives a slow nod.

“Rex? You okay?"

"Yeah," he says, lowering his hand. He's smiling now, his eyes bright. "I'm fine. Just...processing."

"Good," you say, leaning back in your seat. You can feel your face heating, and you quickly turn to your plate, stabbing a forkful of food. "Sorry, I didn't mean to dump all of that on you."

"No, no, it's fine," he assures you quickly. "It's...I'm glad you told me. It's a relief, actually. That the two of you aren't..."

"Together," you finish, and he nods.

"Yeah," Rex murmurs, his voice soft. "That."

You take a bite and chew slowly, your eyes fixed on his. He's staring back at you, his gaze steady, and you can't help but notice that there's something new in his expression, a warmth that wasn't there before. Or maybe you just didn't notice it.

Maybe he was always looking at you like this.

"I'm glad, too," you say quietly. You give him a crooked smile, and he mirrors it, his cheeks flushing.

"Good."

The word is enough to break the spell, and the two of you turn your attention back to your meals. The conversation moves easily from there, and you talk about everything and nothing. The war, and the Temple, and the things that make the two of you laugh. Rex has been bouncing back and forth around the Mid Rim for a while, and the stories are both horrifying and humorous. You can tell that he's enjoying himself, his eyes lighting up as he talks. You find yourself smiling more than you'd care to admit.

Rex in the middle of telling you a story about Fives' latest mishap with the men, and his hands are flying through the air as he tries to convey the extent of the prank, the words spilling out of his mouth. You're laughing at the story, his excitement contagious, when your comm beeps.

You grimace, and you pick up the device, the screen flashing.

"Sorry, give me a second," you mutter. "It's Obi-Wan."

"Right," he says, and the amusement slips from his voice, replaced with a hint of concern. "Go ahead."

You sigh, and you slide the comm onto the table, answering the call. Obi-Wan appears in a holo-image, his form flickering slightly. His hands are tucked into his robes, his brows raised, and he gives you a pointed look.

"Hey, Obi-Wan," you rush to say, trying to appear as innocent as possible. "What's up?"

"Where are you?" he asks. His tone is mild, but there's a sharpness to his words, a hard edge to his gaze. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Oh, um..." You glance at Rex, and then look back at Obi-Wan. "I'm out."

"Out," he echoes, his voice flat. He gives a humorless chuckle, and then leans forward, his gaze narrowing. "My dear, it's pouring. It's freezing. What are you doing out in the middle of the storm?"

"Having lunch."

"With?"

You nod, and your eyes flick to the side, catching Rex's. He's staring at you, his expression neutral, but the corners of his mouth are twitching, a smirk threatening to appear. He's clearly enjoying the exchange, and you bite back a smile.

"With a friend," you reply. "It's not a big deal."

Obi-Wan tilts his head and frowns, his eyes searching yours. You feel a tug in the Force, and you can tell that he's trying to peer into your mind through your bond. You push him away, a scowl spreading across your face.

"Don't do that," you snap.

But it's too late. Obi-Wan's eyes widen, and he lets out a low hum. You know that he's figured out who you're with. And, judging by the knowing look on his face, he knows exactly why you're hiding it from him. You want to groan, or bury your face in your hands, or maybe crawl under the table.

"Really?" he murmurs, a teasing note in his voice.

"Don't," you warn. "Just...don't. Please."

"My sincerest apologies for interrupting your meal, then." Obi-Wan grins, and he gives a slight bow, his hands still tucked into his robes. You can't help but roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

"It's fine," you grumble.

"Good." He lets out a sigh, his hands moving to rest at his sides. "Then I suppose you won't mind if I ask you to return to the Temple. Immediately."

Your brows furrow, and you lean forward, giving him a hard look. "Why? What's wrong?"

"The Council is having a meeting," Obi-Wan replies. "We need to speak with you."

For a moment, it feels like all the air has left your lungs. The words are familiar, and they echo in your mind, sending a chill down your spine. It's an echo of a memory, a fragment of a dream. You shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself.

"Right," you breathe.

"I'm sorry," he says. A wave of sympathy washes over the bond, the feeling making your stomach turn. You can't blame him for feeling it. The look on your face must be pretty awful. "But it's important. You need to be here."

"I know," you mutter, and you try to muster a smile, but it's shaky at best. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"See you soon," Obi-Wan murmurs. His gaze softens, and the corner of his mouth quirks. "And tell Captain Rex that I say hello."

"Shut up."

You jab at a button, ending the call. The image of Obi-Wan vanishes, and you lean back in the booth, letting out a long exhale. Your stomach churns, and there's a sinking feeling in your chest. The Council is meeting. To talk about Yaddle. It has to be. This is it. They have to listen to you now. They have to. They have to.

A hand touches your arm, and you startle, your head whipping up. Rex is watching you, his expression tight, his eyes worried. He's leaning forward, his hand resting on your elbow, his thumb stroking over your skin.

"You okay?"

You shake your head, giving a hollow laugh, your gaze dropping to the table.

"No," you whisper.

"Hey, look at me," he says softly. He waits until you do before continuing. "They'll listen. They have to."

"I don't know," you admit. You sigh, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. "This is it. This is the chance I've been waiting for, but, if they don't..."

“They will.”

Rex slides out of the booth and stands, grabbing his coat. He tugs it on and holds out a hand, the gesture so natural that it doesn't even occur to you to question it. You place your hand in his, and he pulls you to your feet. The two of you gather your things, and Rex stands close while you pay the tab, and then you walk to the door together, leaving the warmth and safety of the restaurant.

The rain has stopped, but it's still cold, and a biting wind whips around you. The streets are littered with puddles, the pavement reflecting the fading light of the city glittering around you. Everything looks washed out, and faded, and dull. The colors have been stripped away by the rain, the world left behind in shades of gray.

Rex shoves his hands in his pockets as you tuck yours under your arms, and you walk in silence down the street. He's not touching you anymore, but you can feel him, his presence a balm to your nerves. You know that he's thinking, his mind working overtime to try to find a solution to a problem that's not his own. He wants to help, and, in truth, you're grateful. But, it's not his battle. It's yours.

The two of you make your way to the street corner, and you stop, turning towards him. The shadows fall over his face, and his gaze is distant, his expression pensive. You watch him, and the silence stretches, the moment heavy with unsaid words. You have to go. He has to stay. But, the thought of walking away from him fills you with a sadness you hadn't anticipated.

Rex takes a step forward, and his eyes flicker to the Temple looming in the distance, his expression softening. "Do you want me to come with you? I could wait outside."

"It's okay, Rex," you say quietly, shaking your head. "This is something I have to do alone. Besides, if they see you, they'll think we're plotting."

He raises a brow, and his lips curl, a smirk appearing. "We could be."

"We are," you tease, and Rex huffs a quiet laugh. You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "But, I can handle this. Really."

"I know you can," he says. He smiles, and his gaze darts down, his hands flexing in his pockets. His eyes find yours again, his expression gentle. "I believe in you."

Your stomach flutters, and a warmth spreads through you, chasing away some of the tension in your body. You give him a small smile. "Thanks.”

Rex nods, and his hands slide out of his pockets, slowly, hesitantly. He opens his arms, his palms facing up, a silent invitation. You don't give him time to reconsider.

You close the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and Rex stiffens for a moment, his body rigid. Then, his arms circle your waist, and he pulls you against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head.

Without your armor as a barrier between you, the hug is more intimate, more familiar. You can feel the shape of him, the curves and lines and angles. You can feel his heart pounding, and his breath tickling your hair, and his fingers splayed against your back. It's nice. More than nice.

It's the most natural thing in the world.

But, it's also the worst possible time.

The two of you break apart at the same time, and Rex runs a hand over his head, a sheepish look crossing his face. You know exactly how he feels.

"I should go," you say quietly. You clear your throat and straighten, smoothing your hair. "Thanks again."

"Anytime," he says, his lips quirking. "Good luck. I hope everything works out."

"Me, too," you murmur. "I'll, uh, let you know how it goes."

"Please." He smiles, and he nods toward the Temple. "Now, get out of here."

"Yeah," you agree, and the two of you share a long look. There's so much that you want to say, but, in the end, you settle for a simple "See you later."

"Later," he echoes.

You nod, and turn on your heel, forcing yourself to walk. With each step, the feeling of him fades, and the world rushes back in. The chill seeps into your bones, and you shiver, the wind whistling through the streets. You can't bring yourself to look back, and you shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket, heading towards the Temple.

As you walk, your mind wanders. You can't seem to focus, your thoughts drifting from Yaddle to the Jedi Order to Rex, the pieces refusing to fit together. You know what you want, and what you have to do, but the path forward seems unclear. You don't know where to go from here.

The entrance of the Temple appears in front of you, and you sigh, the exhaustion settling over you like a weight. You have no choice but to press forward.

The Council is waiting.