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jetii · 26 days ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Twenty-Four: Resolve

Chapter WC: 9,996

Chapter Warnings: angst but it's mild, and there's a happy ending!

A/N: hiiiii please don't hate me okay? ty

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Hyperspace, 21 BBY

You're pacing.

You can't help it.

You're too restless, too on edge, and the more you try to calm yourself, the worse it gets. Your thoughts keep returning to Dooku, to his offer, to his taunts, and it's making you anxious. Angry. Frustrated.

You shouldn't be here.

You should be out there, tracking him down, hunting him. Making him pay for everything he's done. But you let him get away. You watched his ship break the atmosphere and vanish into the void, all the while listening to Rex's assurances that he would be caught, that Dooku couldn't escape forever.

And while you knew he was right, you couldn't bring yourself to believe him.

The man had slipped through your fingers, and it was all your fault. You were too angry, too emotional, and you let him get the upper hand. You let him manipulate you, prey on the fears and doubts that have plagued you your entire life, and he used them against you. And the worst part was, a part of you understood why.

A part of you was afraid that he was right.

A part of you agreed with him.

And it was a terrifying thought.

Because if he was right, if the Jedi truly were corrupt, if the Republic was failing, if the war was hopeless...

Then, what were you fighting for?

What was the point?

You've been walking the halls of the Resolute for what feels like hours, trying to get your head straight, to make sense of everything that happened, but you can't. All you can think about is Dooku, about his words, about his offer, and how close you came to taking him up on it. How close you came to crossing the line, to becoming something you've sworn to never become.

A killer.

It's late.

Most of the troops have gone to sleep, and the corridors are empty, save for the occasional pair of boots or distant echo of voices. You've been avoiding the main hallways, preferring the solitude and quiet that the dim, cramped paths in the lower levels provide. It's easier this way, less chance of being seen or overheard, and right now, that's all you can ask for.

The new hyperdrive that had caused the explosion has been repaired, or as much as it could be given the circumstances, but the scars of the accident remain in the engine bay. Scorched metal, melted plasteel, and scattered parts are strewn across the floor. It's a mess, and despite the efforts of the technicians and mechanics, the area is far from clean or functional. The only saving grace is that a few of the engineers had managed to override the shutdown on the other two drives, and the ship is now limping its way toward Kamino, albeit at a much slower pace.

An equipment malfunction, they said. That's all it was. A mistake. A tragic accident. No one could have predicted it. No one could have stopped it. Nothing could be done. And yet, as you stand in the midst of the wreckage, a part of you knows that it wasn't an accident.

You can feel it.

It's a faint, distant sensation, but it's there. A tugging at the edges of your awareness, a whisper in the back of your mind, an echo from the Force. The same instinct that had helped you solve countless cases and catch dozens of criminals.

And right now, it's telling you that something isn't right.

Dooku sabotaged the drive.

How, you aren't sure, but you know it's true. You can feel it. A brand new, untested system, a complex mechanism with countless components and interconnections, a delicate, intricate piece of machinery. And it just happens to fail in a way that only scuttles the ship temporarily, bringing it out of orbit at precisely the same location where Dooku is waiting. It's too convenient. Too perfect.

Too calculated.

You lean against the wall, the weight of the realization pressing down on you, and you slide to the floor, your back resting against the cool metal, your eyes moving over the damage. The lights are off, and the only illumination comes from the glow of the emergency lights that line the floors and ceilings. They cast shadows across the room, creating a mosaic of shapes and angles, and for a moment, you lose yourself in them, letting your mind wander.

The image of Dooku's face, cold and cruel, flashes in your mind, and you close your eyes, trying to force it away. In less than a day, you'll be planet side on Kamino, meeting your new men and preparing to head out for your first mission. You should be focused on that. On the men who will be under your command, the soldiers who will depend on you to keep them safe, the men who will die if you make a mistake. But instead, all you can think about is Dooku, and the things he said.

You're not a Jedi.

The Council betrayed you.

You can't trust anyone.

Your hand moves up to the hilt of your lightsaber, the worn leather grip a familiar and comforting presence, and you pull it off, staring at the weapon. It's been with you for as long as you can remember, and in a way, it's a part of you. A piece of you. It's saved your life more times than you can count, and without it, you would have died years ago.

You've been a Jedi since before you can remember. You were chosen at birth, and by the time you could walk, your life had been laid out. Your earliest memory is of Obi-Wan, standing over you, smiling and laughing. The two of you were young, but even back them, he had already begun to shape your destiny, molding you into the Jedi he wanted you to be. The Jedi you thought you wanted to be.

But now, everything is different.

Now, you're a soldier. A general. A leader.

The Order may have betrayed you, but the Republic needs you.

And that means you can't afford to fail.

You take a deep breath and open your eyes, your gaze locking on the empty clip on your belt where your shoto used to sit. Without it, you feel incomplete, like a part of you has been taken away, but there's nothing you can do about it now. You're just going to have to learn to live with the loss.

Your thumb brushes against the ignition, and the blade snaps to life, the bright yellow glow illuminating the room. It's warm and soothing, and for a moment, you just stare at it, transfixed by the light. You move the hilt in a slow, lazy circle, watching the blade as it spins, and the soft hum fills the silence, echoing off the walls.

There's a noise, and your head turns, your gaze focusing on the figure in the doorway. You recognize him instantly, and though part of you is relieved to see Rex, another part of you wishes he hadn't found you.

Rex walks towards you, his movements slow and cautious, and the look on his face is one of concern and confusion. You know he's wondering why you're down here, why you're alone, and as much as you don't want to admit it, the truth is that you don't know the answer. You just couldn't bring yourself to go back to your room, not with everything that's been on your mind

"I couldn’t sleep,” you offer before he can ask. “I’m fine.”

Rex nods, and his gaze moves over the room, taking in the damage. He takes a deep breath and runs his hand over the back of his head, a gesture that you've come to realize is his way of collecting his thoughts, and he looks back at you, his expression pensive.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t lie to each other about how we’re doing anymore," he says, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.

"I don’t remember agreeing to that," you reply with a shrug of your shoulder. He shakes his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

"Well, maybe we should," Rex says. He closes the gap between you and leans against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes surveying the mess. "After the past few days, I think it's a good idea."

Your mind flashes back to the fight, the anger and pain coursing through your veins, and the rage that had nearly consumed you. If Rex hadn't pulled you away, hadn't stopped you from chasing after Dooku, you would've done something reckless. You would've killed him. And even though a part of you knew it was the right thing to do, a bigger part of you was scared. Scared that if you had taken the chance, if you had let go, you would've lost yourself.

"I need you to come home."

Rex's words from earlier echo in your mind, and you glance over at him, a pang of guilt twisting your stomach and causing a lump to form in your throat. He was right. You had almost abandoned him. You had almost walked away, left him behind, and never looked back. It was a selfish, reckless decision, and it would've destroyed both of you.

You deactivate your lightsaber and slip it into its sheath, the leather creaking softly. Your hands drop into your lap as you sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with you. Your shoulders slump, and you hang your head, a tired laugh escaping your lips.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Rex," you confess. "I feel like I'm just stumbling around in the dark, waiting for the next crisis to happen."

"Me too," Rex admits. He slides down the wall until he's sitting beside you, his shoulder pressed against yours, and he lets out a soft grunt as he stretches his legs, his knee popping.

"I thought I had a handle on everything," you tell him. "I thought I was in control. But every time Dooku is involved, it all goes to hell. It's like...I'm not strong enough."

"Strong enough?" Rex echoes, and he gives a snort of derision, his head tilting to the side. "You're the strongest person I've ever met."

"Really?" you scoff. "If that were true, I wouldn't have let him manipulate me. I wouldn't have..."

Your voice trails off, and Rex glances over at you, his eyebrows lifting in a questioning look. You avert your gaze, unable to meet his eyes, and he reaches over, his hand finding yours. He pulls your hand into his lap, his eyes fixed on the scars stretching across your palm, and the tips of his fingers brush against the raised flesh, his touch gentle and careful.

"You've been through a lot," Rex says, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper. "No one blames you for reacting the way you did. It was a stressful situation. We all make mistakes."

"Not like that," you mutter. You shake your head and close your eyes, a feeling of shame washing over you. "I almost lost control. If it weren't for you..."

Rex's fingers curl around your hand, and he gives it a squeeze, the warmth of his touch causing a tingle to run up your arm.

"Hey," he says, his voice firm. "You didn't. You kept your head. You came home."

"What if I had made a different choice?" you ask, and his grip on your hand tightens. "What if I had decided to go after him?"

"Then I would've followed you," Rex replies without hesitation. His voice is calm, confident, and the certainty in his tone is enough to make you look at him, your eyes widening. "I would've gone with you, no matter what."

His gaze locks onto yours, and the sincerity in his eyes is enough to take your breath away. You can feel the depth of his feelings for you, the strength of his emotions, and the knowledge that he cares so much for you makes your heart skip a beat. It also terrifies you, because as much as you care about him, there's a part of you that's afraid. Afraid of losing him. Afraid of failing him. Afraid of becoming too attached. And the thought of him dying because of your decisions, because of your mistakes, is enough to make your stomach churn

You look away, your eyes moving over the scorched durasteel panels, and a heavy sigh escapes your lips.

"You shouldn't have," you say. "I would've dragged you into a fight that you wouldn't have survived. I would've gotten you killed."

"Maybe," Rex admits. He rubs the back of his neck, a pained expression on his face. "Or, maybe, you wouldn't have. Either way, I would've been by your side. That's what I signed up for."

"That's not your job," you reply, and Rex frowns, his eyebrows knitting together.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s my choice," he tells you. The harsh, unyielding tone of his voice catches you off guard, and your head snaps up, your eyes widening.

"Rex—"

"We all know the risks," he says. "Every soldier in this army has accepted the fact that they might die. But if they had to make a choice between their life and yours, they would choose you. Every time. It's not because of who you are. It's because of who they are."

You're speechless, and as Rex continues, his voice grows softer, more tender.

"They believe in you. They trust you," he says. "And so do I. That's why I'll follow you. And if you ever try to leave me behind again, I'll be right there next to you. Whether you want me to or not."

You're not sure what to say. His words have caught you completely off-guard, and all you can do is sit there, staring at him, trying to process everything. He's wrong. He has to be. How could anyone trust you, let alone believe in you? But the look on his face, the conviction in his voice, the confidence in his words...it's overwhelming.

Your gaze drops to his hand, his fingers still curled around yours, and the sight makes your chest tighten. He's holding onto you. Refusing to let go. And while a part of you wants to pull away, to push him away, a bigger part of you wants to lean in, to let him hold you.

"You really believe that," you murmur, and he nods.

"Of course I do," he says. He gives a half-smile and his tone becomes playful, teasing. "Why wouldn't I?"

You look up at him, and his smile widens, the dimple in his cheek becoming more pronounced. It's an innocent, genuine expression, and it sends a warm, fluttery feeling coursing through your chest, spreading outward and wrapping around you, enveloping you in a feeling of safety and comfort.

For a moment, you just stare at him, unable to form a coherent thought, your brain too preoccupied with the fact that he's holding your hand. Your gaze drifts to his lips, and you can't help but think about how nice it would be to kiss him. To actually, properly kiss him. The idea sends a flush creeping up your neck, and you look away, swallowing hard.

"I...don't know," you admit.

"Look," he starts, and he releases your hand, raising his own in front of him, his fingers spread. "I'm a clone. I've been trained since the moment I was decanted. I know how to fight, how to lead men into battle, how to take orders. It's all been drilled into my head. But no one told me what to do if someone I cared about got hurt. Or how to deal with the guilt of not being able to protect them."

He shakes his head and chuckles, the sound bitter and humorless.

"I guess no one thought that would ever happen," he says, and his smile fades, his expression becoming somber. "But it did, and now, I have to deal with it. So I'm just gonna do the best I can. And if that means following you into a fight I can't win, so be it."

"It shouldn't have to be that way," you whisper. You draw your knees up to your chest, resting your forehead on top of them, your eyes closing. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"And I'm supposed to protect you," Rex replies, and he sighs softly and places his hand on your back, his touch light and tentative. His thumb brushes along the line of your spine, his palm pressing into the space between your shoulder blades. "That's what friends do."

"Is that what we are?" you ask. The question makes Rex stiffen, his fingers curling into the fabric of your tunic, and his grip tightens, a flicker of apprehension and unease flashing across his features. "Friends?"

Rex opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. He shifts his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"I...yes," he replies, his tone uncertain. "Of course. That's...that's what we are."

You lift your head, and your eyes find his, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You study his face, searching for any sign of deception, but all you see is a look of confusion and concern. A flicker of doubt dances across his features, and he looks away, his hand moving from your back to his thigh, his fingers drumming nervously on his leg.

"I didn't mean to make things weird," he says. "If you're not comfortable—"

"It's not that," you interrupt. You let out a soft, nervous laugh and shake your head, your eyes moving over his face. "It's just...we've never really talked about it. About us."

"Right," Rex mumbles, and he clears his throat, his gaze locked on his boots. "Well, we're friends. Good friends. So...yeah."

He trails off, his words fading, and a strained silence fills the air, the two of you sitting there, neither of you sure what to say. You know that the two of you have become close over the past few months, close enough that you can no longer just deny that there's something more than friendship between you, but you've never given voice to it. It's a delicate balance, and now, it's been upset.

You want to tell him. You want to admit that the feelings you've been fighting for months have become too strong to ignore, but you can't. You can't bring yourself to put the words out there, not with everything that's going on, not with the war raging, not with the danger looming.

Anything could happen. Any moment could be your last. And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like a betrayal, you can't risk losing him to this. You can't let the two of you get tangled up in something that neither of you can control. So, for now, it's best if the two of you keep things as they are. Simple. Easy.

Safe.

"You're right," you say. You give a small nod and offer him a reassuring smile, hoping that he won't notice the sadness in your voice. "Friends. We're friends."

"Good," Rex says, and he returns your smile, though the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes. "That's good."

"Yeah," you murmur.

Rex's hand twitches, and his fingers inch closer to yours, his knuckles brushing against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. He seems to realize what he's doing and moves away, his gaze flickering towards the door, his lips pressing together in a thin line.

"Maybe we should go back," he say. His words are strained, hesitant, and he pushes himself off the ground, standing up. "We should get some rest. Big day tomorrow."

He offers you his hand, and you look up at him, the uncertainty and unease on his face tugging at your heart. You take his hand and let him pull you to your feet, his grip firm and strong. As soon as you're standing, he releases your hand and steps back. For a moment, the two of you stand there, neither of you speaking. He shuffles his feet, and you fiddle with your belt, both of you avoiding each other's gaze.

"So," Rex starts slowly. He takes a step towards the door and pauses, his eyes moving over the ruined drive before focusing on you. "Do you think Dooku was involved?"

The sudden change of topic throws you, and it takes you a second to catch up. You consider his words, your eyes narrowing as you replay the events in your mind.

"Yeah," you admit. "He has to be. The odds of something like this happening by coincidence are..."

"Slim to none," Rex finishes.

"Exactly," you agree. "There's no way it was an accident."

"What do you think happened?"

You look over at him, and the corner of your mouth lifts into a wry smile.

“You’re going to think I’m paranoid,” you warn, and Rex scoffs.

"After what happened yesterday? Nothing would surprise me."

"Don’t say I didn’t warn you," you tell him, and you gesture for him to follow. You lead him through the damaged engine room, your eyes moving over the broken parts and burned circuitry. "This was no accident."

Rex stops next to you, his gaze scanning the damage, his expression pensive.

"Sabotage," he murmurs, and you nod.

"Here’s what we know,” you say, and you raise your hand, ticking off the points on your fingers. "A new hyperdrive is installed on the Resolute the same day the Council decides I'll be taking command of the 419th. That hyperdrive is untested, untried, and unreliable. And yet, somehow, it manages to work just fine until we hit the very coordinates where Dooku is waiting."

"And the explosion was just enough to damage the ship, but not enough to cause a total loss," Rex adds. "He could've killed everyone on board, and instead, he chooses to only blow up a single hyperdrive."

"Because he knew that it would bring us to him," you say. "He needed us here. He needed to speak with me."

Rex's eyes narrow, his gaze becoming sharp and focused. He's thinking, weighing the options, calculating the possibilities. It's what he does best. It's what he was made for. And as the pieces start to fall into place, his expression becomes serious.

"You think he was after you," he says, his tone flat, and you give a shrug of your shoulder.

"Maybe," you reply. "But I think there's more to it than that."

"Like what?"

You look down at the charred remnants of the drive, the metal still warm to the touch, and your hand clenches into a fist, a wave of anger surging through you. Dooku had manipulated you. He had taken advantage of your pain and used it against you, but it was the words he used that stuck with you. The exact right words to hit the exact right buttons.

You're not a Jedi.

The Council betrayed you.

You can't trust anyone.

Those were the things he said. Those were the words he spoke. And the more you thought about them, the more you realized that they were true. At least, from his perspective.

The Order had betrayed you.

The Council had lied to you.

But how had he known that? How had he known what you had been through, what you had seen and heard and felt? How had he known that the Council had refused to listen to you, that they had brushed off your concerns as paranoia, that they had dismissed your warnings as nothing more than the ramblings of a young, inexperienced Knight consumed by grief?

"This is the part where you're going to think I'm paranoid," you tell him, and Rex lets out a soft laugh, a look of amusement on his face.

"Go on," he urges. "I'm listening."

"He knew," you say. You cross your arms, your gaze moving over the charred circuitry, and you shake your head. "He knew about the Council dismissing the evidence I brought them. He knew about the way they treated me. He knew that they refused to believe me, that they wouldn't listen."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying he had help," you reply. Your gaze locks onto Rex, and he tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows raising. "Someone close to the Council. Someone with access to their records, their files, their communications."

"A spy," Rex breathes. He blinks, his mouth hanging open in shock. "But that's..."

"Impossible? Ridiculous?" you finish. You shake your head and give him a grim smile, a cold sense of resignation washing over you. "I know."

"I was going to say unlikely," Rex tells you. He sighs, and he turns away, his hands moving to his hips. He begins to pace, his footsteps echoing off the walls, the dim emergency lights casting shadows across his features. You watch him move back and forth, the gears turning in his head, and finally, he comes to a stop, his eyes moving to meet yours. "But not impossible."

"I thought you might say that," you murmur, and Rex gives a slow, reluctant nod.

"It's possible," he admits. "We've had spies in our ranks before. Hell, we had a damn good one."

He falls silent, his eyes dropping to the ground, his lips pressing into a thin line. You can see the pain in his expression, and you take a step towards him, your hand resting on his shoulder. Your touch seems to pull him from his thoughts, and his head tilts up, his gaze moving to your face.

"If this is true...if there's a traitor in the Order, we have to be careful," he warns. "The Council might not take this seriously. If you accuse them without proof—"

"They'll dismiss it," you say. Rex nods, and you take a deep breath, your shoulders straightening. "I know."

A tense silence hangs in the air, the two of you standing there, lost in your own thoughts. You know that what you're suggesting is unthinkable, but after everything that's happened, you can't ignore the possibility. Not anymore. And if you're right, if there is a spy, a traitor in the ranks, someone working with the enemy...it changes everything.

Rex is the first to speak. He clears his throat, his hands moving to his hips, and he takes a step towards the door.

"We should go," he says. "It's late. We should get some rest. You've got a lot of troops to meet tomorrow."

You nod, and the two of you head towards the door, leaving the ruined drive behind. You step out into the corridor, the low hum of the ship's engines fading the further you walk, until the only sound is the rhythmic thud of your boots on the metal floor. Neither of you says anything, and the silence is almost suffocating, the weight of everything you've discovered weighing heavily on both of your minds.

The halls are empty, and the quiet is eerie without anyone around. It reminds you of the Temple, and as you walk, the image of the Jedi Order's seat of power flashes through your mind. You picture the massive stone hallways, the high ceilings and vaulted arches, the rows of statues and tapestries lining the walls. You think about the countless corridors and chambers, the rooms filled with books and scrolls, the thousands of years of history and knowledge preserved within the ancient walls.

And for a brief moment, you wonder if the Order has changed. If the place you once called home has become something else, something darker, more secretive, more dangerous. A place where the truth is buried, where dissent is punished, where the only way to survive is to play the game, to stay silent, to obey.

You push the thought aside, and you turn a corner, the two of you heading towards the turbolifts that will take you to the residential deck. You can feel Rex's eyes on you, and when you glance over at him, you see he's looking at your belt, his brows furrowed.

"What happened to your other saber?" he asks, and the question catches you off-guard. You reach for the weapon on instinct and come up short, brushing against the empty clip instead. The feeling of loss is immediate and sharp, and you force yourself to ignore it, shoving the emotion aside.

"Dooku destroyed it," you tell him. You raise your hand, gesturing vaguely with your fingers, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "Cut it right in half. Took me completely by surprise."

Rex stops dead in his tracks, and his eyes widen, a look of shock on his face.

"He did what?" he breathes, and you offer a shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. But even as you do, you know it's not true.

Losing your shoto hurts. More than you'd care to admit. You once risked your life to retrieve the crystal during your Gathering, and it had served you well in return. It had even served Obi-Wan once on Geonosis. It was a part of you. A piece of you. And now, it's gone.

"It was a lucky shot," you say, trying to brush it off. "I'm sure I'll get a new one eventually."

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asks, his voice laced with concern, and you wave him off, forcing a smile.

"I'm fine," you assure him, and you flex your fingers of your left hand, testing the range of motion. The bacta patch Kix had insisted on applying earlier was already starting to work, and the pain was little more than a dull ache. "I heal fast."

"Yeah," he mutters, his gaze moving over the scars on your hands, his eyes lingering on the ones covering your right palm. "I've noticed."

You follow his gaze, and the sight of the raised flesh causes a flicker of discomfort, a hint of a memory, the echo of an old pain. You clench your fist, your knuckles whitening, and Rex's eyes snap up, his attention moving to your face.

"Do they...?"

"Still hurt sometimes," you admit, and Rex winces, his expression pained.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "That must've been horrible."

You swallow hard, and your fingers twitch, an old, familiar tingle shooting up your arm. You're reminded of the agony, the smell of smoke, and the suddenness of the memory causes your heart to skip a beat. You shake the images away, pushing the memories aside, and the tightness in your chest fades.

"It's not like it's your fault," you say. You try to force a smile, but the muscles in your face feel stiff, and the corner of your mouth refuses to move. "I've lived with them for years. They don't bother me anymore."

Rex looks unconvinced, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he turns away, and the two of you continue walking, the silence settling over the hallway. It's heavy and uncomfortable, and as the moments pass, the distance between you grows. Rex's arms are crossed, his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched, and as much as you want to say something, you can't think of anything. There's so much you need to tell him, so much you want to share, but the words won't come. You're trapped in your own thoughts, and the harder you try to push them away, the more they persist.

"Can I ask you something?" Rex says, and you nod. "What did Dooku want? What did he tell you?"

The question makes you tense, a sense of unease settling in your stomach. You hadn't mentioned Dooku's offer to anyone, not even Anakin, and the truth is, you're not sure how to answer him. You're not sure if you should. But the concern and curiosity on his face are hard to ignore, and you know that he won't stop until he gets an answer.

"He offered to train me," you mutter, and the words are like acid on your tongue, burning their way out of your mouth. You keep your eyes focused straight ahead, refusing to look at him, and the second the words leave your lips, a wave of regret and shame washes over you.

Rex's footsteps come to a stop, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. You keep walking, unwilling to turn around, and after a moment, he starts moving again, the thud of his boots echoing off the walls.

His anger is unmistakable.

It's like a physical thing, an energy that surrounds him, pulsing in the Force. It's intense and raw, and you can practically taste it. But there's also a hint of something else, a deeper emotion, a more powerful feeling. And as the two of you walk down the corridor, the distance between you becoming more and more pronounced, it becomes increasingly more difficult to ignore.

You reach the turbolift and press the button, the doors sliding open, and you step inside, pressing the button for the officer's deck. The doors slide shut, and the lift begins to move, the whirring of the mechanism filling the air.

Rex stands beside you, his eyes fixed on the floor, his jaw clenched hard enough to make his cheek twitch. He's furious. You can tell. And the fact that he's not yelling or berating you is actually worse.

"You told him no," he states, his tone flat, his eyes still focused on the floor. It's a statement, not a question, and you take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

"I told him no," you confirm.

"And the Council?"

"I haven't spoken to them yet." You shift your weight, and glance at the numbers above the door, watching as they rise. "I'm sure they'll have some thoughts on the matter. They always do."

"So he was just playing games, huh?" Rex's words are like venom, dripping with hatred and contempt. "Trying to manipulate you. Using your anger against you."

"Something like that," you murmur. His head turns towards you, and his gaze locks onto yours, his eyes dark and serious.

"Did it work?"

"I said no," you remind him, and his eyes narrow, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asks, and the question causes your throat to tighten, the truth sticking in your throat. "What exactly did he say to you?"

You open your mouth to reply, but the words die in your throat, the truth refusing to come out. You don't want to admit it. Not to him. Not to yourself.

The turbolift stops, and the doors slide open, revealing the darkened hall outside. You step out, your feet moving on instinct, your legs carrying you towards your quarters. Rex follows, his footsteps echoing behind you, his gaze boring into the back of your head.

"I'm not going to judge you," he tells you, and his words make your stomach twist, a sinking feeling taking root in your gut. "Whatever it is, whatever happened, I'm on your side."

"I know," you mutter. You stop at the door to your quarters, your hand hovering over the keypad, and you close your eyes, a wave of fatigue washing over you. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

You hesitate, and the knot in your stomach tightens, your fingers curling into a fist. You're ashamed. Ashamed that you almost gave in, that you almost considered his offer, and that it still weighs on your mind. That the doubts Dooku planted in your head haven't vanished. They're still there, lingering, like a shadow.

"He made a good point," you whisper, the words barely audible, and the moment they leave your lips, you know you've made a mistake.

The silence is deafening.

A shiver runs down your spine, and your hand moves away from the keypad, falling to your side. You don't turn around, but you can feel Rex's eyes on you, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you.

"About?"

"About the Order," you admit. Your eyes close, and your head hangs, the shame burning hot in your cheeks. "About the Council. About everything."

The silence stretches on, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. Finally, Rex lets out a long, slow breath, the sound of his exhale making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"Did you...did you consider his offer?" he asks.

"For a second," you tell him. "But I..."

Your voice trails off, the rest of the sentence lost. But I didn't mean it. But I changed my mind. But I chose not to go. But I made the right choice.

But none of that matters. Not really.

Because the fact is, you had been tempted. For a brief moment, a fraction of a second, a sliver of a heartbeat, you had actually considered Dooku's offer. You had thought about what it would mean, about the freedom, the power, the control. And if not for the fact that he was a monster, a murderer, you might have taken him up on it.

And that, more than anything else, scares the hell out of you.

You take a deep breath, and the words spill out, your voice barely a whisper.

"I thought he might be right," you confess. You turn around, and the look on Rex's face nearly breaks your heart. The pain in his eyes, the anguish on his face, the hurt etched into his features...it's more than you can bear. "He told me I couldn't trust the Council. He told me the Jedi were corrupt. He said..."

You trail off, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. You swallow, and take another deep breath, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill over.

"He said that the Order betrayed me," you whisper. "That they had abandoned me. That they didn't care about me. And I...I believed him."

You wipe at your eyes, the tears running down your cheeks, and Rex steps forward, his hands coming up to cup your face. His thumbs brush against your skin, wiping away the tears, and he shakes his head, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"Hey," he says, his voice soft, soothing. "That's not true. You know that, right?"

"I thought I did," you admit, and his grip on your face tightens, his gaze locking onto yours.

"Look, I don't know much about the Force, or the Jedi, or any of that," he tells you. "But I know this. The Order, the Council, the whole damn thing, it's not perfect. It's got its flaws. It's not some unbreakable, infallible machine. It's a bunch of people, making decisions, doing the best they can. Just like the rest of us. And at the end of the day, they're trying to help. They're trying to do the right thing, and that's what matters."

You sniff, and Rex's hands fall away, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You rest your head against his chest, and his arms tighten, the warmth of his body enveloping you. You close your eyes, the tears streaming down your cheeks, the guilt and shame weighing heavily on your heart.

"They didn't betray you," Rex whispers, and the words are like a balm on your soul, the truth washing over you, soothing the ache in your chest. "You were right. The Council should've listened. They should've supported you. And I'm sorry."

You take a shaky breath, and Rex's hands move up, his fingers running through your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"You didn't deserve what happened," he continues. "You deserved better. But the thing is, they weren't wrong. Not entirely."

You stiffen and pull back, a look of shock on your face. Rex gives a soft chuckle and brushes the hair out of your eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You're reckless," he says, his voice low and affectionate. "And stubborn. And impulsive. And impatient. And sometimes, you can be a little...overwhelming."

"Are you trying to cheer me up?" you ask incredulously. "Because this is the worst pep talk I've ever heard."

Rex laughs, and his arms tighten, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"My point is, the Council was right to worry," he tells you. "And they were right to be concerned. You have a lot of potential. But if you're not careful, all that power, all that talent, all that drive, it'll get the better of you. It'll burn you up. And that's not what we need. That's not what the galaxy needs."

"I know," you mumble. "But I just wish...I just wish they would've listened. I just wish they had believed me. I wish I could've made them understand."

"I know," Rex whispers. "And I'm sorry. But there's nothing you can do about it. It's in the past. It's over. It's done. All you can do now is move forward."

You lean into his touch, and he pulls you closer, his hand cupping the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. His lips press against the top of your head, and his hold on you tightens, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you.

"I know this is hard," he says. "But you have to trust them. You have to believe in them. Otherwise, you'll never be able to move past this."

"I'm trying," you murmur.

"Try harder," he replies, and you snort.

"Gee, thanks," you grumble, and Rex chuckles, his fingers tracing idle patterns along the back of your neck.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says. He leans back, his gaze meeting yours, his expression serious. "What I meant was, if you can't trust the Council, at least trust the men. Trust me. And trust you’re doing the right thing."

The look in his eyes is intense, the sincerity and determination in his tone causing a fluttery feeling in your chest. You swallow, and give a slight nod, a sense of calm settling over you.

"I can do that," you tell him, and his eyes widen, his brows lifting in surprise.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree. A grin spreads across his face, his eyes lighting up, his relief and joy apparent. You place your hand on his chest, the feeling of his armor, solid and strong beneath your palm, making the knot in your stomach loosen. "I think I can do that."

"Good," he says. "I'm proud of you."

His praise catches you off guard, and your eyebrows lift, your mouth falling open in shock.

"You're what?"

"Proud," he repeats. His hand moves from the back of your head to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "I'm proud of you. You've come a long way. You've accomplished a lot. And I know this war has been difficult. But I'm proud of how you've handled it."

The sudden rush of emotion makes your throat tighten, and you sniff, the tears starting to form again. Rex notices, and his hand drops, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you against him.

"I'm proud of you too," you murmur weakly, your voice muffled by his chest. You feel him stiffen against you, his arms tightening, before he relaxes, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"Thanks," he says, his tone sheepish. You let out a quiet laugh and shake your head.

"No," you tell him, and you push away, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I'm serious. You've been incredible. Everything you've done for the 501st, for the Republic, for me. You're a good man, Rex. One of the best I've ever known."

"Well," he replies, his gaze flickering away, a faint hint of color creeping into his cheeks. "I, uh, I'm glad you think so."

“I do,” you assure him.

A silence settles between the two of you, but it’s not the same uncomfortable, tense silence as before. This is different. This is warm and safe and comforting. It makes you feel at ease, and as the moments pass, the anxiety and fear fades, leaving behind a feeling of calm and acceptance.

The war has changed you. The war has changed everything.

But here, in this moment, standing with Rex, his arms wrapped around you, his gaze locked on yours, it feels like none of that matters. The war, the politics, the death and destruction, it's all just a distant memory, a faint echo, a fading nightmare. In this moment, all that exists is the two of you, and the connection you share, the bond that has grown between you.

Your eyes find his, and he smiles, a soft, sweet smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It's a gentle, tender smile, and it makes your heart skip a beat, the fluttery feeling in your chest intensifying. You can't help but smile back, the joy and relief surging through you, filling you up, until it's almost too much.

"I'm going to miss this," he murmurs, and you tilt your head to the side, confusion clouding your features.

"Miss what?"

"This," he replies, and he gestures towards the door, a sad, wistful expression on his face. "Having you here, on the ship. Having you close."

You hesitate, unsure of how to respond, and Rex sighs, a pained look on his face.

"I know it's selfish," he says. "And I know it's not fair, but..."

His words trail off, and you can see the conflict in his eyes, the internal battle raging within him. He wants to say more, but he can't bring himself to, and the frustration is clearly eating away at him.

"It's not selfish," you tell him. "Or unfair."

Rex looks at you, and you give him a soft smile, a knowing look in your eyes.

"I'm going to miss you too," you confess. "It's going to be weird, not having you around."

"Yeah," he mutters. "It will."

"But hey," you say. "It's not like this is goodbye. We can still comm each other. And we'll probably get assigned to missions together every once in a while. Right?"

Rex lets out a dry chuckle, and he gives a slight shake of his head, his expression somber.

"Right," he says. "Missions."

He falls silent, and the two of you stand there, neither of you saying a word. There's so much left unsaid, so much that needs to be said, but you can't find the words. And you’re not sure if any of them would make a difference anyway.

Finally, Rex breaks the silence.

"Come on," he says, and he takes a step back, his hand reaching for the keypad. "It's late. You should get some rest."

He enters the access code, and the door slides open. The room beyond is bathed in darkness, the automatic blinds pulled down over the viewport, but you can still see the outline of Yaddle’s lightsaber on your desk, the two empty wine glasses near the sofa. The memory of last night comes rushing back, and a wave of heat rises in your cheeks.

Rex walks past you, and he pauses, his eyes moving over the mess in the room.

"You want me to help clean this up?"

"No," you tell him. "I've got it. It's not a big deal."

"You sure?" he asks, his eyes narrowing, a concerned look on his face. "It looks pretty bad."

You glance around the room, taking in the chaos, the clutter, the general state of disarray. The sudden drop out of hyperspace had thrown everything off balance, and the result was a scene worthy of a hangover. You had been meaning to tidy things up, but the last couple days had been a whirlwind of activity, and you hadn't had a chance.

You nod, and Rex's shoulders drop.

"Alright," he says. "If you're sure."

"I am," you assure him. You lift your hand, and the remnants of the wine bottle shudder and lift, drifting toward the trash chute.

Rex's eyebrows lift, a look of admiration on his face.

"Neat trick," he mutters, watching as the shards of glass disappear down the chute.

"You should see the others," you tease as you move toward the bed. "There's a lot more party tricks up my sleeve. Maybe I'll show you sometime."

Rex chuckles, and his gaze follows you as you sit down on the edge of the mattress. The sheets are twisted and wrinkled, and you lean forward, your hands resting on your knees, a wave of exhaustion washing over you.

"Get some sleep," he tells you, his tone soft and gentle. "You've got a big day tomorrow."

"Right," you murmur before a yawn escapes your lips. You rub your eyes, and when you open them, Rex is kneeling in front of you.

His eyes are level with yours, and he's watching you closely, a thoughtful look on his face. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to get lost in those eyes, the rich, warm brown color, the flecks of gold around the iris. They're beautiful. He's beautiful. And in that instant, a feeling of regret passes through you, the reality settling in.

"Do you think I should tell the Council about Dooku's offer?" you ask him. "About the spy?"

Rex shakes his head, and the corners of his mouth lift into a small, rueful smile.

"No," he says. "They wouldn't believe you."

"I don't want to keep secrets from them," you insist. "Especially about something this important."

Rex sighs, and his eyes flutter closed, his hands clasped together, his thumbs pressing against his forehead.

"They're not going to listen," he says. His eyes open, and they lock onto yours, his gaze steady and sure. "You said it yourself. They already think you're unstable, irrational. If you go to them now and start making accusations, they'll dismiss you. Or worse."

"Worse?"

He doesn’t reply, but the grim expression on his face is answer enough. A wave of dread washes over you, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach. He's right. You know he's right. They wouldn't believe you. They would dismiss it. Especially if you tell them about the offer Dooku made.

You take a deep breath and push the thought away, forcing the doubts and fears aside. Rex is right. You can't risk it. Not yet.

"What do I do?"

Rex’s hands move to the buckle on your boot, his fingers working the latch free. You bend down to help him, but he gently pushes your hands away, his focus solely on the task at hand.

"For now, nothing," he says.

Your boot slides off, and he sets it aside, moving onto the next one.

"You have a whole brigade counting on you now. You need to focus on them. On getting them ready for the fight ahead."

The second boot slides off, and you let out a sigh of relief, wiggling your toes. Rex sets the boots aside and stands, his gaze moving over the rest of your armor. You don’t wear much when you're not on a mission. Just the essentials. The ones you can easily remove on your own. But that doesn’t stop Rex from looking for a way to help.

"You have a responsibility to them," he continues. He holds out his hand, and after a brief moment of hesitation, you relent, letting him take your arm. His fingers work quickly at your vambrace, undoing the straps, and the piece of armor falls to the ground with a loud clang. "Your only concern right now should be doing everything you can to prepare them for what's coming. And that means giving them a reason to trust you. To believe in you."

He moves to the other vambrace, and you tilt your head to the side, his words sinking in.

You had been so consumed by your own pain, your own anger, your own desire for revenge, that you had failed to see the bigger picture. The thousands of lives that depended on you, the soldiers you were supposed to lead, the civilians you were supposed to protect, the galaxy you were supposed to defend.

You had forgotten your purpose.

And if not for Rex, you might have kept going down that path. A path that could have led to ruin.

The second vambrace comes off, and he sets it aside, his eyes meeting yours.

“And that means putting the past behind you," he says. His tone is gentle, but firm, and you know he's right.

"I know," you mumble, the words coming out as an half-whine, and his lips twitch. “But I can’t just let Dooku's threat hang over my head.”

"Who said anything about letting it go?" he replies, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just because you're a General now doesn't mean you have to stop doing what you're best at."

“Chasing ghosts and rumors? Spreading paranoia? Being an unrelenting pain in the ass?” you joke. “You might have a point there."

"That's the spirit," he chuckles, and the smile on his face spreads, a twinkle in his eyes. You can't help but smile back, warmth spreading through your chest, the feeling of hope taking root in your heart.

It's strange, being with him like this. It feels different. As if a new layer of trust has been added to the relationship. A new understanding. And while you know there's still a long way to go, a lot of questions left unanswered, a lot of things left unsaid, it's a start. And, right now, a start is all you need.

A soft yawn escapes your lips, and Rex gives a sympathetic chuckle, his hands moving to his hips.

"Get some sleep," he tells you. "You've had a long day. A long week. You deserve a break."

You let out a tired groan and slump backward onto the bed, your arms splayed out.

"Don't remind me," you mutter.

“And no more midnight walks, alright?"

"Alright," you agree, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"You're gonna scare your men, prowling the halls in the middle of the night," he says, his tone playful, and you roll your eyes. "Especially if they see the look on your face. You look like a cornered nexu."

You sit up and give a soft laugh, the comment catching you off guard.

"Is that so?"

"I've seen nexu before," he assures you, and you can't help but grin. "And trust me, that's the same look."

You lean forward and cross your legs, unclipping your belt and tossing it onto the floor. Rex’s eyes follow it, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and you bite your cheek to keep from smirking. You’d almost forgotten how cute he could be. How innocent and shy. How much fun it was to fluster him.

"I'll take that as a compliment," you tell him, resting your elbows on your knees, your chin propped up on your palm. The comment seems to snap him out of his stupor, and his gaze snaps back to yours.

"You would,” he mutters, a hint of sarcasm in his tone, and you snort.

You're both quiet for a moment, the two of you simply watching each other until Rex finally turns away, his gaze moving to the door, his arms crossing over his chest. He takes a deep breath, and the momentary ease between the two of you vanishes, leaving behind a tense, uncertain silence.

"There are things I want to say to you, but now's not the time," he says, a solemn, somber look on his face. Rex runs a hand over his head, his shoulders sagging. "I don't want to make things harder than they already are."

"They're already hard," you mutter. "Believe me."

His expression softens, and a rueful smile plays on his lips, his eyes shining in the dim light.

"Yeah, they are," he sighs. "So let's make it easy. At least for tonight."

The air is thick with unspoken words, and for a brief moment, you wonder if Rex can feel the connection too. If he can sense the shift in the Force, the change in the atmosphere, the subtle energy that's swirling around the two of you. It's a fleeting thought, and you shove it away, pushing it into the dark corners of your mind, burying it deep.

He’s right. Now's not the time. Not for this.

But soon.

Hopefully.

"Well," you say, and his gaze meets yours, his eyes locking onto yours. "Thank you. For everything. You didn't have to come find me, and I appreciate it."

"Of course," he replies, a gentle smile on his lips. "What are friends for?"

The word "friend" causes your chest to tighten, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach.

Friends.

The two of you had been dancing around the issue for months, neither of you willing to acknowledge what was happening between you. Now, in the heat of the moment, the word seemed so trivial, so meaningless, so inadequate. It was like trying to capture a shooting star with your bare hands. Impossible. And frustrating as hell.

But the alternative, the word you really want to say, the truth you both know but refuse to acknowledge, is far too dangerous. Too risky. And if there's one thing you've learned, it's that sometimes the truth is better left unsaid.

So instead, you smile. And despite the sadness, the regret, the disappointment, it’s a genuine one. Because as complicated as the situation is, and as painful as it is, there is a certain comfort in knowing that no matter what happens, no matter what choices are made, no matter what lies or half-truths are told, you will always be his friend. And that, in itself, is worth holding onto.

You climb off the bed and step forward, wrapping your arms around him. Rex's hands settle on your lower back, and he pulls you closer, his fingers resting lightly against the fabric of your shirt. The two of you hold each other, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you, and after a moment, he lets go.

"Goodnight," he murmurs, his eyes lingering on your face.

"Goodnight," you echo, and he turns towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the darkened room.

As you watch him leave, a strange sense of peace washes over you. A calmness you haven't felt in a long time. And as the door closes and you're left alone in the silence, the darkness pressing in, the realization hits you.

It's over.

You've made your choice. You've taken the first step. And now, it's time to move on.

You turn back to the bed and strip off the rest of your clothes, a sense of purpose settling over you. You have a duty to your men. A duty to the Republic. And most importantly, a duty to yourself. You've spent the last decade of your life living in the past, chasing ghosts, fighting demons. Now, it's time to let it go.

Your eyes land on Yaddle’s lightsaber and the familiar pang of loss shoots through you, but it's quickly replaced by a sense of acceptance. Your past has shaped you, molded you, turned you into the person you are today. But it doesn't define you. And it's time to stop letting it.

You climb into bed, and the moment your head hits the pillow, a wave of exhaustion washes over you, the stress and fatigue pulling at your mind, tugging at your eyelids. You let them close, the darkness enveloping you, and you fall asleep, a feeling of contentment spreading through you.

The war is still raging, the battle lines are still drawn, and the fight has only just begun. But for the first time since this mess began, you have a direction. A purpose. A reason to keep going.

And that, more than anything else, gives you hope.

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#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #roy writes #event horizon #listen i have a vision here!!#and i said SLOW BURN 🫵#also i cut a conversation with kix and i lowkey feel bad about it #maybe someday i'll post all the cut/alt content #all 40k words of it

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