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dreamwreaver · 3 days ago

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I completely agree, Vaggie and Charlie are really each other's antithesis and it's executed BADLY. The show doesn't do anything meaningful with their differences, if anything, it makes it starker. Their communication is terrible, they are not at all in sync with each other's needs and the only time they ever got actual development was when they separated to seek help for the battle with the exorcist, in which, they had more chemistry with their respective mentors than they ever had with each other (I honestly ship Vaggie and Carmilla a little after their spar, like come on, one time Carmilla lets her hair down, an act of vulnerability in some cultures, was with Vaggie and Vaggie also got her wings back after that fight too. Not to mention, they had a whole ass song together despite not meeting yet before the Chaggie song and has plus points for being original unlike Chaggie's song so Vamilla/Battleangel is a decent ship for me.)

Vaggie may say that she'll do anything for Charlie but she sure as hell won't let Charlie sing and have a deal with the same guy she had a deal back in episode 1. She also seems to forgot that her girlfriend is a grown-ass woman who can thrive on without her while she can't because she thinks she's worth nothing without Charlie. It's sad, really.

I'm honestly curious on what you'd discuss further on how Vaggie would have never let Charlie in but Charlie didn't think to knock, can you please share?

Ngl, while it's not an s-tier ship for me because I do adore zestmilla, battle angel is indeed an underrated pairing and tbh? At the very least Vaggie deserved to have an obsessive lesbian crush on Carmilla. I know it was allegedly planned for her to have an obsession with weapons and it got cut for time or other reasons. Whatever, more stripping of Vaggie's character and turning her into a bland nonentity so she doesn't compete for attention with literally everyone else.

As for your question; I would like to refer back to Charlie's rant at Alastor during their cannibal town date. No I will not be taking arguments on that, that's precisely what it was.

"Three years, three YEARS I've been sharing my life with her and I tell her EVERYTHING! My hopes, my dreams, my insecurities, my embarrassing habits, what fucking DEODORANT I like! And she keeps something, like THIS from ME! Why would she lie for so long? Did she think I wouldn't accept her? What about me, ME, says un-understanding?"

And if you watch her body language during this whole rant it's less emotional hurt and more... ego hurt? Like, this whole upset has gone from "the person I love and trust more than anything has been lying to me about who they are," to, "I share everything about myself with her and should have been entitled to this information."

And yeah, I get it, she was made to look incredibly stupid in front of a heavenly council right before being blasted back to Hell with an entire exorcist army aimed right at her front door. Anyone might be justifiably upset that such important info was kept from them. But as Carmilla literally says not ten minutes later, "You have a giant X over your eye and wield an angelic spear, it's not rocket science."

So Carmilla was able to take literally ONE look at Vaggie and clock her origins? Going further, depending on how you interpret Lucifer's gaze in Dad Beat Dad upon meeting Vaggie it's entirely possible HE clocked her as angelic too. And yet, the person who spends the most time around her somehow couldn't connect those dots? Charlie's optimistic but she's not dumb. She's got a naive understanding of sinners and how best to incite change but to miss something like THAT? I don't buy that Vaggie would have been able to keep that secret so easily if Charlie had been paying as much attention to her partner as any good and healthy relationship should.

But let's backtrack a bit. The notion that Vaggie's off emotionally is established all the way back in episode 3. Remember when Charlie's trying to get the others psyched about trust exercises and Vaggie shows a considerable lack of enthusiasm? What was the first thing out of Charlie's mouth after that? Is it, "hey you seem like you've got something on your mind; are you okay?"

Nope! It's a very embarrassed/annoyed, "Vaggie, we rehearsed this!"

After which she proceeds to blindside Vaggie with the news that she's the one who's going to be leading the trust unit that day. Wow, for all they rehearsed this pitch Vaggie sure seems left out of the loop on it doesn't she? When Vaggie tries to explain without explaining that she's neither qualified nor comfortable about this decision does Charlie say, "well okay then, but if you change your mind just let me know,"? Wrong again! She just says, "It's easy I'm sure you can handle this."

And again, Vaggie is both unprepared and uncomfortable and also unable to say no to Charlie so she defaults into her military training and starts speaking to them like a commanding officer would to their troops. And I don't blame her for that, we tend to fall back on emulating behavior we've seen when we don't know how to cope with something. When trust falls don't work, Charlie tries to retake control but Vaggie puts on a brave face and says she has it when she clearly doesn't. As chaotic shenanigans ensue Vaggie grows more and more desperate but somehow it isn't until she's literally chucking people off a roof that Charlie figures this has gone too far. Not to mention she's incredibly surprised that COMBAT is how Vaggie learned to trust people. Forgive me if I'm wrong but you've been her partner for three years by later admission and you DIDNT know she came from a military background?

Not to mention Vaggie spells it all out in black and white, "I took charge today and it all went sideways. I'm supposed to make your dreams a reality. I'm supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to never fail you" followed by, "If I can't help you, what's the point of me?"

Vaggie has serious issues with self worth, demonstrated here. And while I get Charlie is trying to respect boundaries to a certain point I cannot imagine that were I in her shoes I would leave my partner thinking that if they couldn't be useful they shouldn't be with me. And while to her credit Charlie does apologize, it feels a little pointless when the very next episode she's back to just ignoring what Vaggie says. Even then, that apology doesn't do much to address the real root of the issue. They work as a team? When and where is that EVER demonstrated? It's not a reassurance that Vaggie doesn't NEED to have some demonstrable use for Charlie to want to be with her. And even if it was Vaggie has already struck at the heart of their problem; she wants to be Charlie's armor AND her partner, but those positions cannot work in tandem. Because wanting to be someone's armor assumes they need protecting, and again I state, Charlie is a grown ass woman and one of the most powerful beings in all of hell. She was smart enough to avoid making a deal with Alastor in the pilot, why does Vaggie assume that Charlie NEEDS protecting? And a partner infers a level of equality that just isn't demonstrated in what we see of their relationship. There is no give and take with them supporting each other equally. It's vaggie either trying to draw blood from a stone to meet Charlie's unrealistic expectations, or Vaggie telling Charlie to alter core elements of her personality to appease her own subjects. And on the flip side; where does Charlie support Vaggie in anything resembling the way Vaggie supports Charlie?

Charlie pushed for Vaggie to come to Heaven with her because that was what SHE wanted. Even when Vaggie expressed her reluctance to go Charlie pushed and Vaggie folded even as she knew what ended up happening was a very real possibility. Why?

For all his bloodthirsty nature Alastor knows the political game way better than Vaggie does. Vaggie couldn't keep her shit together when Emily was just holding Charlie's hands and being friendly. That's not the type of partner a political figure should have, and whether she likes it or not as princess of hell Charlie's interwoven with the politics of hell. Being power hungry means Alastor has the genuine best advice for Charlie when it comes to handling bigwigs like the angels. And he's someone with an actual business interest in the hotel. Imagine someone asking him why he helps when he doesn't believe in redemption; and he tells them it's because he believes in Charlie. You don't hand someone the source of most of your power so easily if you do not have a sincere and earnest level of trust in them. And yet Al does it willingly, more than once.

I want to say that I don't hate Charlie or Vaggie. I just don't think they work well as a pairing because Vaggie gives too much and Charlie's more concerned with her people than her partner. And the lack of communication between the two of them is a real issue. Again, Vaggie might never have let Charlie in, but Charlie never thought to knock. She never thought to ask about Vaggie in any way that would suggest the sort of deep emotional love that the show so desperately wants us to believe they have.

And on some level, I think a good portion of the fandom feels it too. Seriously, run the numbers some time on just AO3; filter for the Chaggie tag, and then take out every other ship that those stories are actually about. The chaggie tag is filled with stories that are about someone else's relationship because beneath the surface there's nothing there.

#charlastor #radiobelle #hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #alastor #dream replies #character analysis #not tagging the ship because I don't feel like getting harassed today #but seriously

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jetii · 3 days ago

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i also don't normally cry while i'm reading fics so that is...an honor? maybe? and i'm sorry? but also thank you 😂 😭

i'm really enjoying slowly developing a relationship and trust vs the one-shots i'm used to writing these days! i want them to kiss kiss fall in love just like everyone else but i think for them to truly work they have to get to this place where they know they can depend on each other. and in this chapter in particular i think she's finally realizing just how much of a safe space Rex has become for her. and yeah given the chaos of this chapter and just their lives in general, it's a much needed reprieve.

i am guilty of making the clone MCs in my fics perhaps too perfect to reasonably exist but Rex is really perfect to me. what a man fr fr 😭

and it's so cool that you knew where i was gonna go with the castle!! i just kinda pulled that whole scene out of my ass last minute and i loved how it all worked out.

Event Horizon

Chapter Sixteen: Wishful Thinking

Chapter WC: 10,811

Chapter Tags/Warnings: minor blood/wound care, major grief/mourning themes

A/N: A lot going on in this one, but I couldn’t stand to break it into two chapters. This is one of the heaviest chapters so far, but also one of the sweetest. Hopefully that makes up for it somewhat!

And just getting it out now that I don’t plan on talking about Satine much in this fic, so please don’t set your hopes too high lol.

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

You’ve never met Duchess Satine Kryze, but she must be a beautiful and formidable woman to have such a hold on Obi-Wan after all these years.

He's always spoken of her with the utmost respect and detachment, but you can sense the truth that lies beneath. It doesn’t surprise you that he's the one who has been sent to Mandalore in the wake of the attack on a Republic cruiser by a Mandalorian saboteur, leaving you in command of the 212th.

It does, however, annoy you.

Though, not in the way you expect. In your youth, you were jealous of her, the thought of Obi-Wan being with another woman had caused an ugly, green-eyed monster to rear its head within you. As time has passed, and especially since your conversation in the gardens, that feeling has faded. Replaced by something else entirely.

Concern.

You've had a bad feeling about the situation on Mandalore ever since Obi-Wan told you about his assignment, and it's one that's been difficult to let go of. Obi-Wan is a good man, an excellent General, a brilliant tactician and negotiator. But as his history with the Duchess, and yourself, has proven, his ability to remain objective when it comes to the safety and welfare of those close to him is sorely lacking.

Your worry is compounded by the fact that the 212th is being called into action. A force of Separatist droids has sprouted up like weeds on Null, a short jump from Mandalore, and the Third Army is being sent to deal with them. As a Jedi, you can't ignore the call to arms, but as a friend, you're hesitant to leave Obi-Wan without the support of the 212th. You can only hope that he will have the clarity of mind to focus on the bigger picture, rather than the smaller, more personal details.

Not that you were unfamiliar with such distractions.

Null is a lush planet, filled with dense tropical forests and dramatic mountain ranges. It's also the home of one of Dooku's many retreats, an extravagant manor built into the side of a mountain, with a sprawling view of the valley and city below. A city that's now crawling with battle droids. An orbital bombardment is out of the question, and the Separatist defenses are proving difficult to penetrate.

So, instead of a quick, clean victory, it's going to be a messy, bloody slog.

You sigh and look down at the tactical display, your brow furrowed. You'd woken early this morning, arriving to the strategy room long before everyone else, and you've spent the past few hours pouring over the reports, trying to come up with a plan of attack. And a plan for how you can get inside the castle and deal with Dooku once and for all.

Yaddle's message is still fresh in your mind, her voice still ringing in your ears. Her words are still etched into your heart. You know what you have to do, and the temptation to do so is growing with each passing day. With each new casualty. With each loss.

But there's still the war to contend with, as well as the possibility of failure. If you attempt to go after Dooku and fail, if he gets the upper hand and kills you, the galaxy will lose a Jedi Master. And if you manage to kill him and survive, you will lose the moral high ground. The Order could brand you a murderer, and that would spell the end for your career, your life, and your friendships. There would be no going back.

No, it's not worth the risk.

At least, not yet.

You're so lost in thought that you don't hear the door slide open behind you, nor do you hear the footsteps approaching. It isn't until Rex clears his throat that you realize he's standing behind you.

You don’t startle, and it should surprise you, but it doesn’t. You're too used to Rex's presence by now, the warmth of his energy in the Force as familiar as the sun rising over Coruscant each morning, and the normal tension that comes with someone stepping into your space is absent. Instead, a sense of calm washes over you.

Your shoulders relax, your heartbeat slows, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You don't turn around, not yet. You continue staring at the hologram of the valley, letting the feeling settle in.

It's strange. You'd expected this closeness between the two of you to fade once you'd returned to Coruscant. But it hasn't. If anything, it's grown stronger, and it's no longer something that only occurs in the safety of an empty meadow or a darkened hallway, away from the prying eyes of the Jedi Council and the GAR. Now, it's everywhere. In every moment. No matter what the two of you are doing.

You've tried not to read too much into it, tried not to dwell on the implications. But deep down, you know the truth. Rex isn't just a distraction. He's something else, something more.

But you're not ready to admit that. Not yet.

But that doesn't mean that you're not happy to see him.

"Good morning, Rex," you greet him, a hint of amusement in your tone, and you move your fingers across the display, changing the angle of the hologram. "Come to save me from myself?"

"How did you know it was me?" he asks. His voice is low, his tone teasing. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"Don't tell me you were trying to sneak up on me," you tease, glancing over your shoulder and giving him a wry smile.

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. "I haven't forgotten what happened the last time I tried."

You smirk, remembering the incident on Felucia. It feels like a lifetime ago that you were holding him at the end of your blade, your eyes locked on his. There's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes now, but the memory still stings. You can still see mark on his pauldron under the layers of blue paint, a reminder of your recklessness, your paranoia.

"Neither have I," you mutter, and then you turn back to the hologram, tilting your head and studying the display. "What brings you here so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I’m always the first one here," Rex says. He steps around to the side of the holotable, leaning against the edge. His head tilts as he regards you, his hands behind his back, and his eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail. "You look like you haven't slept."

"I've had a lot on my mind," you admit with a sigh.

A slight frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, his gaze flickering to the table between the two of you, before returning to yours.

"Anything I can help with?" he offers. "Or, are you just trying to show the rest of us up by coming up with the perfect plan before anyone else arrives?"

You chuckle and shake your head, the corner of your mouth turning upwards. "Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid."

"I see," he replies, and a hint of disappointment flashes across his face, before vanishing. He nods at the holotable, and then, hesitates. "Do you...do you want to talk about it? Maybe it'll help. Clear your head."

You pause, considering his offer, and then, decide against it. You can't bring yourself to tell him about Yaddle, about what she said, not yet. Not when the wound is still so raw, so fresh. And while Rex is an exceptional listener, and you know he would offer his full support, you're not ready. Not for the conversation that will inevitably follow.

So, instead, you give him a grateful smile and shake your head. "Thanks, but I'm okay."

"Alright," he concedes, though he looks unconvinced.

You're grateful for it. You appreciate his understanding, his willingness to respect your boundaries. It's a relief, really. There's no awkwardness or discomfort. It's natural. Easy. And that's something you've rarely found outside the Jedi Order. Or inside it.

"Well, hopefully this helps, then."

Rex moves his hand from behind his back and reveals a paper cup with a lid. Steam wafts from the opening, and you immediately recognize the scent of fresh caf. You perk up, your eyes widening.

"Is that...?"

"Freshly brewed?" he finishes as he sets it on the holotable in front of you. "Yep."

“For me?” you ask, even as you reach for it, wrapping your hands around the cup and reveling in the heat. You lift the cup to your nose and inhale deeply, the smell sending a shiver down your spine. “Really?”

Rex chuckles and shrugs, lifting up his own cup to his mouth. “Oh, well I was going to give it to Cody, but…”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen, and he smirks before taking a sip, the teasing glint in his eyes telling you he's enjoying your reaction. You roll your eyes, and a soft laugh escapes your lips, your cheeks warming.

“But you like me more?” you challenge, and Rex snorts, nearly spilling his caf. He covers his mouth and swallows hard, shaking his head at you as you raise an eyebrow at him. "That's what you're going to say, right?"

"Yeah," he rasps, clearing his throat. He sets his cup on the table and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sure. That."

"Good," you say, smiling sweetly at him. You raise your cup to him in a salute. "Because I like you more than Cody, too."

“I heard that.”

You both straighten and turn as Cody strides into the room, a datapad in his hand, and the two of you exchange a sheepish look. You feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach, and Rex lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

Cody raises his eyebrow as he walks around the holotable, glancing between the two of you. He looks like he's about to say something, but then shakes his head, his expression softening, and he turns to the display.

"What are we looking at?" he asks.

"A nest," Rex replies, his voice gruff, and he crosses his arms over his chest, any trace of amusement gone.

You're surprised at his sudden change in demeanor, and a part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, but the other part, the one that's still slightly worried about being caught fraternizing, even if it's Cody, stops you. Instead, you nudge Rex with your elbow, giving him one last smile before you go over to stand beside the commander.

As you move, you take the first sip of your caf. You brace yourself for the bitter taste, but it doesn’t come. In fact, it tastes almost exactly like how you prefer to prepare it for yourself. You can’t help the noise of surprise that escapes you, and you eagerly take another sip.

Rex watches you from the corner of his eye, his mouth quirking into a half-smile, before turning back to the display.

Cody doesn't miss the exchange. His eyebrows raise, a curious look on his face, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he points to the map on the holotable.

"So, a nest, huh?" he asks. "And what kind of bird are we hunting?"

"A Krayt dragon," Rex says, and you snort, earning a glare from the captain. He huffs and continues, "A squadron of vulture droids, most likely from Count Dooku's estate, launched an attack on the nearby city and decimated the local forces. They're holed up in the surrounding mountains, and they're not giving up easily."

"Dooku's estate, you said," Cody repeats, and a thoughtful look crosses his face. "We'll have to deal with that later."

"Yes, we will," you mutter. He hums in return, and the three of you stand in silence, studying the display. The battle droids are well fortified, their numbers impressive, and you have a feeling that it's going to be a difficult fight.

You take another sip of your caf, savoring the rich flavor, and the caffeine courses through your veins, sending a jolt of energy through your body. It's enough to wake you up and sharpen your focus, and you can't help but smile. You look over at Rex and nod, mouthing a silent 'thank you'.

He ducks his head and turns away, but you can see the color rising in his cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He lifts his hand to his face, scratching the back of his head, and you have to stifle a laugh.

The doors slide open, and Anakin and the rest of the battalion's commanding officers file in, filling the room with a low murmur of voices. As they take their places around the holotable, Rex ends up next to you again.

"You're welcome," he murmurs, his mouth barely moving. He doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes fixed on the map, but his arm brushes against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

You hide your smile behind your cup, warmth blooming in your chest, and you take a moment to bask in the sensation before you shift, putting some distance between the two of you. The last thing you need is for someone else to notice the tension between the two of you, especially now that the room is full.

You're not ready to explain this...whatever it is, to anyone.

"Alright, everyone," Anakin calls, clapping his hands together. He steps forward and leans over the holotable, examining the map. "Let's get started."

The meeting passes quickly, and before long, the two of you are walking side by side through the corridors toward the hangar bay. The troops have already begun boarding the transport ships, and the hum of engines fills the air. Rex is at ease, his stride relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back. You, on the other hand, are anything but.

Your feet are dragging, a heaviness weighing on your shoulders that grows with every step. You're exhausted, and the thought of another battle, another confrontation, makes you want to curl up and sleep for days. The stress is beginning to wear on you, and the lack of a good night's sleep isn't helping.

Still, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that this is your chance. That this is the opportunity you've been waiting for. To finally confront Dooku.

"So," Rex begins slowly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Is there any way I can convince you not to go on this mission?"

You huff a laugh, and you shake your head. "I wish."

"I had a feeling," he sighs, and his gaze returns to the corridor ahead. "You have that look on your face. Like you're ready to jump out of an airlock."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes," he tells you. He stops, turning to face you, and he rests his hand on your shoulder. He squeezes gently, and you find yourself leaning into it, savoring the contact. His thumb brushes against your collarbone as he leans forward, his gaze softening. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him, and a half-smile tugs at your lips. "Don't worry about me."

"You say that," he chuckles, his tone rueful, and his grip on your shoulder tightens. His eyes search yours, and the humor fades. "But I do. And I know something's wrong."

"I..." You start, but stop, biting your lip. You take a deep breath and look away, your heart hammering in your chest. "I don't know what to tell you."

"You can tell me the truth," he says gently. He tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze. "What's going on? Are you...is it the nightmares?"

"It's not that," you sigh, and you rub the back of your neck, your eyes drifting towards the floor.

You don't want to lie to him, not anymore, but you're not sure what to say. The truth is, it's more than just the nightmares. It's everything. The war, the Order, your past, your future. You've been struggling with it all, and it's getting harder and harder to keep it together. To maintain control. To hide your emotions. To ignore the growing desire for justice, vengeance, satisfaction.

You let out a shaky breath and shake your head. "It's just...a lot."

"Yeah," he nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and then clears his throat. "Can I...is there anything I can do?"

"Not this time," you answer, a sad smile on your face. "But thank you."

"Alright," he sighs, resigned. Rex drops his hand and looks around, taking in the bustle of the hangar bay. His eyes linger on the transport ships, a distant look on his face. "You think we have a chance?"

"At taking out the vulture droids or taking out Dooku?" you ask, and his gaze returns to you. He offers you a wry grin.

"Either. Both."

You shrug. "I think we'll be fine. As long as we stick to the plan and work together, we should have no problem destroying the droids. As for Dooku..."

"Yeah, that's the hard part, isn't it?" he chuckles, and you nod, the corner of your mouth pulling into a small smile.

"It is," you agree. "But with a little luck, we might be able to capture him."

"Right," he says, rolling his eyes. "Luck."

"Well, we have to stay positive, don't we?" you tease, nudging his shoulder. He chuckles and shakes his head, and the two of you share a smile. It fades quickly, however, replaced by a somber expression.

He glances around, making sure no one's paying attention, before stepping closer. His gaze meets yours, and there's a seriousness in his eyes that wasn't there before. He opens his mouth, then closes it, hesitating, before trying again.

"What would you do if we did?" he asks quietly. "If we had him."

"I..." you start, but then trail off, considering the question. You don't have an answer. Not one you can speak aloud. There are so many conflicting emotions, so many feelings, swirling inside you, and it's hard to separate them. To pick out the right ones. The good ones. The ones that matter.

But underneath all of that, buried beneath the surface, is something else. A burning desire for revenge. For justice. And it's a desire that you're struggling to contain, to control. Every day, it grows stronger, demanding release, demanding action And every day, you deny it. Ignore it. Push it down. But it never goes away. Never disappears.

And it's becoming harder and harder to keep it in check.

Now, you're afraid that if you do catch Dooku, you won't be able to hold back. That you'll lash out and do something terrible, something unforgivable.

You've never admitted that to anyone, not even Obi-Wan. You know he's under the impression that you've released most of the darkest parts of yourself into the Force, but that's far from the truth. You can't help it. You're only human, after all.

And like any other human, you're capable of horrible, terrible, things. You know that better than most.

But Rex...he might understand. He's seen first-hand what Dooku is capable of, the pain he's caused. If anyone could understand, it would be him.

You look up at him, your eyes searching his, and he stares back, his expression solemn, his brow furrowed. He doesn't pressure you, doesn't push, just waits patiently, giving you time.

"I don't know," you finally answer, and the lie burns your tongue, the words coming out thick and heavy. You swallow hard and look away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You can tell me," he says softly. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," you nod, forcing yourself to smile.

"Good," he murmurs. "That's good."

There's an awkward silence between the two of you, and you stare at the ground, unsure of what to say. You can sense his eyes on you, and the intensity makes your stomach twist. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and a chill runs down your spine. You cross your arms, rubbing your palms up and down your sleeves.

"Just..."

You take a shaky breath and raise your head, meeting his gaze. His expression is gentle, kind, and it helps. It gives you the courage to continue.

"Just stay close to me, okay?" you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat and force a smile, and it hurts. Everything hurts. Your chest is tight, your throat dry. "Please."

Rex's frown deepens, and he opens his mouth to reply, but he's cut off by a voice echoing down the hallway.

"Rex! Where are you? We're ready to launch!"

He sighs and looks away, running a hand over his head. "I gotta go."

"I know," you tell him, swallowing past the lump your throat. You take a step forward and reach for him, resting your hand on his arm. "Be careful out there, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

He scoffs, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he looks down at you. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you," you tease.

"I'm always careful," he retorts, and the two of you exchange a knowing look. You squeeze his arm and let go, stepping back, and his eyes linger on yours.

"Rex!" the voice calls again, more insistent.

"Go," you say. "Before Fives comes looking for you."

Rex smirks, and then gives you a nod. He turns and strides down the hall, and you watch him go, your heart aching, a strange feeling twisting in your gut.

You can't name it, can't put a word to it. It's not quite worry, not quite fear, not quite sadness. But it's all of those things, and more. A feeling of loss, maybe. Or regret. Or guilt.

Rex reaches the end of the corridor, and he turns, glancing back at you. You give him a small wave, forcing a smile, and his gaze lingers, his eyes searching yours. Then, he turns, and he's gone.

You stand there, rooted to the spot, staring after him.

Dread.

The feeling is dread.

Null, 21 BBY

An explosion rattles the ground beneath your feet, and you dive for cover, the deafening sound of blaster fire echoing around you. You roll behind a pile of rubble and lean against the stone, catching your breath. Across the dust-filled courtyard, Rex is hunkered down behind a broken statue, his blasters in his hands.

You lock eyes with him and he nods, holding up his hand, the signal to wait. You nod back and turn, peering around the edge of the stones, looking for an opening. The courtyard is crawling with battle droids, their laser fire tearing through the air, and it's impossible to tell where the droids end and the Republic troops begin.

A clone runs past, his armor streaked with blood, and a battle droid lunges out of the smoke, grabbing him. You reach out, calling upon the Force, and the droid flies through the air, slamming into a wall. The clone stares at you, and then nods, rushing back into the fray.

Another explosion rocks the courtyard, and the ground trembles, chunks of stone and dirt falling from the sky. You grit your teeth and push off the ground, leaping to the top of the rubble, your lightsabers igniting. A storm of bolts comes flying at you, and you deflect them, sending them back at the droids.

"General!"

You glance over your shoulder, and a squad of clones come running towards you, their weapons raised. They're led by Waxer, and they're covered in dust and dirt, but otherwise unharmed.

"Waxer, nice of you to finally join us," you shout, and the clones laugh, ducking behind the debris.

"Well, we couldn't leave our General hanging, now could we?" he retorts. He peers around the stones, scanning the courtyard, and then looks back at you. "Commander said you were having a rough time, thought we could give you a hand."

"How kind of him," you deadpan. You jump off the rocks, landing next to the clones, and you take a deep breath, letting the Force flow through you. Your skin tingles, and your muscles tense. The world around you slows to a standstill as your heart beats faster, pounding against your chest. You can see every detail, every movement, every particle.

"Any sign of Dooku?" Waxer asks.

You grit your teeth. The Force ripples around you, telling you what you already suspected from the moment you landed on Null. Dooku is gone, if he ever was here. Another lie. Another dead end. Another wasted opportunity.

"He's not here."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," you grunt, and everything comes rushing back. The sound, the smell, the taste of smoke and blood and sweat. It's overwhelming, but it's familiar, and your senses adjust quickly, settling back into their normal rhythm. "Looks like this is a vacation home, not a military base."

"Great," he sighs. He raises his blaster and fires, taking out a pair of battle droids before ducking back behind cover. "Well, at least the vultures are taken care of."

"That's one good thing, I guess." You crouch beside him, your brow furrowed, exhaustion tugging at your limbs. "Now, we just have to clean up this mess."

Rex darts across the courtyard, his blasters firing, and a stream of red light follows his movements. He slides to a stop beside you, and he leans against the rubble, his chest heaving. His helmet tilts towards you, looking at you over his shoulder.

"Good to see you, General," he pants.

"You, too," you reply, giving him a tired smile.

"Did we miss anything?"

"Not really," Waxer tells him. "We were just about to start mopping up."

The three of you look over at the troopers now pouring into the courtyard in a sea of blue and orange, their numbers quickly overwhelming the droids. It's a chaotic scene, with blaster bolts flying through the air and smoke filling the space, but the tide has clearly turned in the Republic's favor.

"Come on, then," you say, and you rise, stretching. Your muscles ache, and your knees protest, but you ignore them. "Let's get this done."

You turn and lead the way, jumping into the fray. Within minutes, the last of the battle droids fall, their smoking corpses littering the ground. You stand in the middle of the carnage, surveying the damage. There are scorch marks everywhere, bodies strewn across the stones, pieces of broken droids scattered about.

It's a mess, but it could have been worse.

Much worse.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, centering yourself. You deactivate your lightsabers and tuck them into your belt, a weary smile on your face. It's over. Finally. You'd been fighting for hours, and you're ready to rest.

"Good work, everyone," you call out, raising your voice so it can be heard above the din. "I think we're done here."

There's a loud cheer, and the troops start gathering their gear, cleaning up the battlefield. Rex approaches you, and the two of you stand together, watching the men work.

Rex lets out a loud sigh, and he takes his helmet off, wiping the sweat from his brow. His blond hair is matted with dirt, and his face is covered in grime. He glances over at you, and his eyes crinkle with a tired smile.

"Well, that was a fun morning," he chuckles, and the clones in the near vicinity laugh at the quip. Waxer gives him a good-natured slap on the back as he walks by, and you snort, shaking your head.

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," you retort, and his smile widens.

He turns and gestures to the castle looming in the distance. "Do we still want to take a look around?"

"We might as well," you say, shrugging. "It's not like we're going to get a chance like this again."

Rex nods and pulls out his commlink, tapping a button. A voice crackles to life, and he begins issuing orders, the clones splitting off into teams and heading towards the estate. He watches them go, and then he looks over at you, nodding.

"Ready when you are."

You take a deep breath and begin walking, Rex falling into step beside you. The estate is sprawling, a series of towers and spires rising up from the valley floor. It's surrounded by a high stone wall, and you can see turrets peeking out from the battlements. You've never seen a more dreary, impenetrable fortress.

The main doors are open, and a squad is standing guard, their weapons raised. As you draw nearer to the entrance, a sense of anticipation settles over you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

Your hand drifts towards your lightsaber, and your fingers tighten around the hilt. You can sense something, but you can't put your finger on it. An energy, an electricity, a presence, but it's faint, just out of reach. Something inside you wants to run, either away or toward, and you can't tell which.

You hear a grunt beside you, and you glance at Rex. His face is pinched, and for the first time you notice him limping, his left leg dragging a bit behind his right. Concern flares inside you, and you stop, turning towards him.

"You're hurt," you accuse, and his eyes widen, his jaw clenching.

"I'm fine," he insists, but his voice is strained, and the pain is clear in his eyes. You shake your head and grab his arm, pulling him to a stop. Whatever is behind those doors can wait.

"Rex, what's wrong?" you ask, and he sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"Just a little bruised," he admits.

You arch an eyebrow, gesturing to his leg. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," he insists. "I'll be fine."

"Uh huh," you murmur. You step closer and lean forward into his space, looking into his eyes. He avoids your gaze, his cheeks reddening, and you narrow your eyes, sensing the truth. "Rex."

"What?" he grumbles.

"You should see a medic."

"I will," he promises, and his eyes dart over to the others, before returning to yours. "Later."

"Liar," you grin, and his lips twitch. You roll your eyes.

The two of you watch as the troopers file into the estate, disappearing from sight. When they're gone, he lets out a breath and looks at you, the tension in his body easing. You're grateful for the quiet, the stillness, the opportunity to collect yourself.

But it's also a relief to have him all to yourself, without the constant pressure of the others, the expectations and attention. And you can tell he feels the same.

"I am a liar," he admits sheepishly. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, a shy smile spreading across his face. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Maybe," you tease, and his grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Sit down. I'll take a look at it."

"You don't have to," he starts, but you shake your head, cutting him off.

"No arguing. Sit."

Rex grumbles but does as you say, letting you lead him over to the half-shattered fountain in the center of the courtyard, the water long gone. He lowers himself to the ground, hissing in pain, and you kneel beside him. Together, you remove the armor from his leg, setting it aside. The fabric of his bodysuit is torn, and underneath is a nasty-looking gash, a mixture of dirt and dried blood caking his skin.

You bite your lip, worry bubbling inside you. You've seen worse, much worse, but there's something about seeing him hurt that makes your heart clench. You know you're being irrational, that the injury isn't serious, and that the medics will be able to treat him. Still, it hurts. To see him in pain. To feel his pain.

"It's not that bad," he mutters. He's looking down at you, his brow furrowed, and he gives you a reassuring smile. "Honest."

"Uh huh," you say, unconvinced, and he huffs a laugh. You reach out, tentatively, your hand hovering over his leg. "This might sting."

"I can handle it," he tells you. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a crooked grin. "Probably."

You roll your eyes and move your hand closer, your fingers gently brushing the swollen skin. Rex sucks in a breath through his teeth, and you wince as you're hit with a jolt of his pain, sharp and sudden.

You breathe deep, steadying yourself, and then you press your hand fully against the wound, letting the Force flow through you into him.

You're far from adept in the healing arts, one of many weaknesses in your skill set, and you're no healer, but you can do this much. It's not a particularly complex injury. The tissue needs to be repaired, the pain reduced, and if you syphon some of your own energy, it's not as difficult as it seems. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

Still, it's not easy. The injury is larger than you thought, and the pain is intense. Rex tenses underneath your touch, his leg twitching, and you can hear his teeth grinding. His jaw is clenched so tightly, you fear his teeth might crack. You blindly reach up with your opposite hand and rest it on his knee, trying to steady him.

"Easy," you murmur. His hand settles on top of yours, your fingers intwining. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, his thumb stroking your knuckles. "Almost done. Just breathe."

"Right," he says, his voice strained. He lets out a shaky breath and nods. "Keep going."

You let out a breath of your own, and you continue the work, draining your energy into him. After a few more moments, the wound is closed, the pain reduced, and you withdraw your hand, pulling back the fabric to examine the newly healed skin. It's a little pink and raw, but it'll do. He'll need proper medical attention, but for now, it'll keep him on his feet.

"There," you say, and Rex lets out a soft groan, the tension in his body fading. He looks down at the wound, and he turns his leg side to side, admiring your handiwork. "Good as new."

"Wow," he breathes. "That's...impressive."

"Yeah, I'm pretty great, aren't I?" you tease.

"Yeah," he nods. His hand is still holding yours, his fingers lightly tracing your knuckles. "You are."

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and your cheeks warm, your heart skipping a beat. You swallow hard, and you give him a weak smile, trying not to read too much into his words.

"Thanks," you murmur. You let go of his hand and sit back, and he sighs, his eyes never leaving yours. You shift under his gaze, unsure of what to do, or say, and then, his expression changes, his head tilting.

"Why don't you do that more often?" he asks, and you frown, confused. He gestures to his leg. "Heal."

"Oh," you reply, just as a wave of exhaustion washes over you. You try to suppress a yawn and fail. "It's not something I like to advertise. I'd rather not burn myself out."

Rex raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. You hesitate, biting your lip. It's not something you're proud of, and it's not something you talk about often, but for some reason, you feel compelled to share.

"I'm not particularly skilled in the healing arts," you admit. You look away, your brow furrowing. "Some can draw on the Living Force, use its power to heal others. I can't."

"But you did just now," he points out carefully.

"I did," you acknowledge, and a wry smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You turn and meet his gaze. "But it took a lot out of me, and I don't mean that metaphorically. If I'm not careful, if I'm not prepared, it could kill me."

Rex's eyes widen, and a look of panic flashes across his face. His hands clench into fists, and he shakes his head, scowling.

"Don't ever do that," he orders, and you chuckle. "Seriously. Don't. Not for me."

"If I didn't, you would have been laid up in the infirmary for a week," you tell him, trying to sound casual, but your tone is anything but. Your words come out more harshly than intended, a bit more bitter. "Besides, I wanted to. You're worth it."

Rex stares at you, stunned, a flicker of something passing over his features. Surprise? Confusion? A hint of fear? You're not sure, but it makes your stomach twist, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of your gut. You swallow hard, resisting the urge to look away.

"You shouldn't have," he tells you, shaking his head. "You could have-"

"But I didn't," you interrupt, and he sighs, the corners of his mouth turning down. You stand and brush the dirt and debris from your robes, clearing your throat. "And if you ever tell anyone I did that, I'll deny it. Got it?"

Rex snorts, the scowl vanishing, and slowly rises to his feet, testing his weight on his injured leg. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, his neck cracking, and then he nods. "Got it."

"Good," you huff.

You watch as he reattaches his armor, your arms crossed over your chest. He seems to have forgotten about the estate, about the mission, his mind on other things. His expression is thoughtful, his eyes distant, and you can't help but wonder what he's thinking. What he's feeling. Whether or not he's upset with you. With himself.

You know you've worried him, that he's afraid of what might have happened, but you don't regret it. Not one bit. He needed your help, and you gave it. It's as simple as that. Besides, you're a Jedi, aren't you? Isn't this what the Order teaches? That compassion and generosity are the most important aspects of your duty, your life?

Still, there's a nagging voice in the back of your head, a voice telling you that what you did was selfish. That you did it for yourself, not for him. That you did it because you care about him, because you can't stand the thought of him being hurt.

And, the truth is, it is. It is selfish, it is reckless.

You're not a healer, not really. You don't know how to channel the Living Force, how to heal the wounded, or cure the sick. You only know how to take, how to absorb the pain and suffering of others and give something of yourself in return, and you've never done more than a handful of healing sessions in your life. You're a warrior, not a physician.

And yet, here you are, playing medic, because it's Rex. Because you can't help yourself.

Rex finishes buckling his armor and looks at you, his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze, and a moment passes between the two of you. An understanding. A realization. Something is changing, something fundamental, and neither of you knows what to do about it. But you don't need to. Not yet.

"Listen," he starts, his voice soft. "I—"

"Sir!"

The two of you flinch, startled, and you turn towards the source of the voice, your hand drifting towards your lightsaber. Fives and Echo are jogging across the courtyard, their blasters raised. You relax, and Rex lets out a sigh, running a hand over his head.

"Yes?" he calls.

"General," Fives pants, and he skids to a stop, his helmet under his arm. "Sorry to interrupt, but we found something."

"What is it?" Rex asks, frowning.

Fives glances at you, and a grim expression settles on his face. He shifts from foot to foot, his eyes darting between the two of you.

"It's...just come see."

Rex nods, and he gestures for Fives to lead the way. The trooper hurries off, and you follow, Rex at your side. The four of you weave through the rubble toward the castle, Fives and Echo in the lead, Rex and you a few steps behind. You feel a chill creep up your spine, a sense of unease filling you, and your hand rests on your lightsaber, your thumb brushing against the hilt.

As the doors loom overhead, Rex looks over his shoulder and meets your gaze. You shake your head, a silent warning, and he nods, his expression hardening.

Whatever it is, it's not good.

You pass through the archway and into the darkened hall. The interior is massive, a high vaulted ceiling overhead, with ornate columns rising from the floor to the roof. The walls are lined with marble, and the floor is polished black stone. There are statues lining the walls, and they look like they were once pristine, but now they're covered in soot, and chunks of the ceiling have fallen, smashing the art. The place smells like smoke and death.

"This way," Echo says, gesturing to the left. The group turns and heads down the hallway, your footsteps echoing around you.

As you move deeper into the castle, the air becomes thicker, the smell of smoke and dust growing stronger. The hallways narrow, and the walls become rougher, the marble replaced by stone. Torches flicker along the walls, casting eerie shadows across the floor.

Your uneasiness only compounds the further you walk, and a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. You're starting to feel sick, the sensation only growing stronger with each step.

You glance over at Rex to find him already watching you, his brow furrowed. He slows, letting the others get a few paces ahead, and he leans towards you, his voice low.

"What is it?" he asks. "Do you sense something?"

"I do," you whisper. You rub your temples, your eyes drifting closed. "But I can't put my finger on it. It's..."

"What?" he prompts.

"Dark," you say. "Very dark."

"Shit," he breathes. His hand reaches out, hovering near your shoulder, as if he wants to comfort you, but he hesitates. "Do you want to go back?"

"No," you murmur. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, meeting his concerned gaze. "I'll be fine."

"Alright," he says, though the worry remains in his eyes. He steps back, putting a little distance between the two of you, and he nods towards the others. "Let's catch up."

You nod, and the two of you resume walking, following the clones through the gloom. The air is getting colder, the scent of smoke growing stronger, and you can hear a low hissing sound, like gas escaping from a broken pipe. You grit your teeth, doing your best to ignore it. Whatever it is, whatever is making you feel so ill, it's coming from up ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, the four of you come to a stop outside a massive wooden door, and Fives looks back at Rex, gesturing towards the handle. The captain nods, and the trooper takes a deep breath, reaching for the knob.

"Ready?" he asks.

"No," you answer, and the three of them chuckle, the sound echoing around you.

Fives nods and pulls the door open, and a wave of cold air rushes out, blowing through your hair and making the torches flicker. You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin, and a lump forms in your throat.

There's a long, winding staircase leading down into the darkness. The walls are covered in soot, and the stones are slick with ice. The air is frigid, and your breath mists in front of your face. You can hear the sound of dripping water, and the scent of dampness and decay fills the air.

"I don't like this," Fives mutters, and Echo grunts in agreement.

Rex looks over at you, and a wry grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "What do you think, General?"

"It's creepy as hell," you deadpan.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he chuckles, and he steps forward, placing his foot on the first step. "Come on, then. Let's get this over with."

You follow him into the stairwell, and the rest of the squad falls in line behind you, the four of you descending into the darkness. The light from the torches quickly fades, and the only sound is the scrape of your boots against the ice-covered stone, and the occasional drip of water.

The further you go, the worse the feeling gets, and the air grows colder, the smell of rotting wood and mold invading your nose. You feel like you can't breathe, like there's a hand gripping your throat, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"You sure you're alright?" Rex asks quietly. He doesn't turn to look at you, keeping his gaze fixed on the steps, his fingers gripping the railing.

"No," you murmur, and he frowns, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"Do you want to go back?" he asks.

"Not unless you do," you reply. "It's just..."

"Yeah," he agrees, nodding.

The stairs eventually level out, and the path opens into a cavernous chamber, the ceiling soaring high above your head. The walls are covered in stalactites, and the ground is slick with ice. You can't see beyond your hand, and you stumble forward, your foot sliding out from under you.

"Easy," Rex murmurs, grabbing your arm, steadying you.

"Thanks," you grunt, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to get your bearings. You draw your sabers, the yellow blades illuminating the room, and you hear the sound of the others' flashlights flicking on, the beams of light dancing around the space.

"What the hell is this place?" Fives asks. His voice is hushed, but it echoes around you, the silence deafening.

"I don't know," Rex whispers. He lets go of your arm and walks forward, his eyes scanning the room. You stay close, not wanting to lose him in the darkness. "It looks like some sort of dungeon, or..."

"A tomb," you finish, and he looks back at you, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah," he agrees. "It does."

You step forward, your gaze sweeping the area. The ceiling is high, the walls covered in icicles. The ground is smooth, with a layer of ice coating it, and you can see a path leading deeper into the cavern. You feel a tug, a pull, and your pulse quickens.

"Rex," you murmur.

"Yeah," he says. He follows your gaze, and he sighs, his expression grim. "I know."

You nod and begin moving forward, the others falling in line behind you. Your footsteps are muffled by the ice, and the air grows colder, a chill settling over the room. The light from your sabers doesn't seem to reach the walls, and the darkness presses in on you, like a living, breathing thing.

"General," Echo says, his voice low. "You don't think this is a trap, do you?"

"I don't know." You shrug, and the three clones let out a chorus of sighs. You turn and look back at them, arching an eyebrow. "If it is, it's not a very good one."

"True," Fives agrees. "Maybe Dooku isn't as smart as we thought."

"Or, maybe he's playing a different game," Rex says, his tone grim. He glances at you, his eyes lingering on yours. "Just...be ready."

"Always," you assure him.

You continue through the cave, the air growing colder, the ice thickening beneath your feet. The path twists and turns, and the ceiling lowers, until you have to duck to avoid the icicles hanging above.

Finally, the path opens into another large chamber, and you come to a stop, taking in the sight before you. The ground is littered with debris, chunks of stone and rubble scattered around the space. A row of unlit torches lines the walls, and you can see a series of steps leading down into the center of the room, the ground cracked and broken.

And there, in the middle of the chaos, is a pedestal.

You frown, stepping forward. There's something on top of the pedestal, but it's too far away to see clearly. You reach the edge of the broken ground, and you stop, peering down.

"What is that?" you murmur.

Rex comes up beside you, his brow furrowed. "Looks like a...box."

Your blood runs cold, and you turn, your hand twisting. The torches ignite, filling the room with light, and you see the box, the ornate wood gleaming in the torchlight. Its surface is scorched and dented, and it's covered in ash, but there's no mistaking it.

"Get out," you say, your voice hoarse.

"What?" Fives asks. "But we—"

"Get out!" you shout, and they flinch, stumbling backwards. "Now!"

Rex hesitates, his eyes darting from the box to your face, and you stare at him, your hands clenched into fists, the blood roaring in your ears. After a moment, he nods, and he raises his hand, signaling the others to fall back.

"Yes, sir," Fives murmurs, and he turns and begins marching back the way you came. Echo gives you a long look, his eyes lingering on yours, and then he, too, retreats. Rex doesn't move, and you turn, glaring at him.

"Go," you order.

"You told me to stay close to you, remember?" he retorts, and his voice is laced with anger, his jaw clenched. "Well, I am. And I'm not leaving."

You sigh, a headache building behind your eyes, and you shake your head. "Rex, I—"

"No," he growls. "Don't. Don't push me away."

"It's not—"

"You're not going through this alone."

"But—"

"I don't care."

His voice echoes around the chamber, and you swallow hard, the air rushing from your lungs. You stare at him, at his unwavering determination, his absolute refusal to back down, and a part of you wants to push him, wants to shove him away and send him back to the others. He's disobeying your orders, he's questioning your authority, and you should be angry. You should be furious.

But instead, you feel relieved.

You turn back towards the pedestal, the box gleaming in the flickering light, and a cold weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

"Alright," you sigh, deactivating your sabers and shoving them into their holsters. "Fine."

Rex's expression softens, and he reaches for you, his hand settling on your shoulder. You lean into him, his warmth comforting, and he squeezes gently.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

You nod, and the two of you begin the descent, slowly making your way down the broken path. The ground is slick with ice, and your feet slide a few times, Rex's grip on your shoulder tightening to keep you from falling. You finally reach the bottom, and you approach the pedestal, a lump forming in your throat.

You stand over the box, and you run your fingers along the surface. It's warm, and there's a faint vibration, the Force humming with energy.

"What is it?" Rex asks, his voice quiet.

"It's..." You trail off, and you swallow hard. "It's what I found when I went out that night."

He frowns, and then recognition dawns on his face, and his eyes widen. "You mean when you were attacked?"

"Yes," you whisper.

Rex is silent, and you stare at the box, a wave of emotion welling up inside you. Anger, sadness, grief. They mix together, churning in your stomach, and you clench your fists, the nails digging into your palms. You can feel the darkness swirling around you, a miasma of pain and fury, and it threatens to drown you. But you can't look away, can't turn your back.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs.

"Yes," you repeat, and the word comes out thick, the tears burning hot. "I'm sure."

"Then, it's him," Rex whispers, his voice laced with sympathy. He steps closer, his hand settling on your back, his thumb rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. "Isn't it?"

"It is."

You reach out and place your hand on the lid, and the wood is smooth and cool under your fingertips. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and then, with a single, smooth motion, you lift the lid. The hinges creak, the sound echoing around the chamber, and a cloud of dust swirls in the air.

The inside of the box is lined with a velvet material, the fabric faded and worn. The scrap of her robe is still there, along with the datapad, but that isn't what makes your heart seize in your chest.

It's the lightsaber.

You recognize it immediately, the sleek, silver hilt a stark contrast against the crimson fabric. It's the same design, the same length, the same width. You've seen it a hundred times, a thousand, more than you can count. But the last time you saw it, it was in her hands, a blaze of green light. Now, it sits, cold and lifeless, and the ache inside you only grows.

And when you reach out, your fingers brushing the blade, the hum that vibrates up your arm is unmistakable. The same hum, the same vibration, the same power. Her power.

"Is that..." Rex breathes, his eyes wide.

"Yes," you choke out, the tears spilling over.

You can feel his presence behind you, his energy warm and steady. But even his strength can't shield you from the anguish that bubbles up inside you, a deep, primal wound reopening. It's a wound you've spent the past ten years ignoring, pushing aside, burying deep, but now it's tearing you apart, the pain consuming you.

Your hand encloses around the hilt, pulling it to your chest. The metal is cold, and you can feel the steady, rhythmic pulse of the kyber crystal inside, a faint echo of her Force signature. It's been so long since you've felt her presence. Since you've been able to sense her power, her wisdom, her kindness.

It's like a knife to the heart, the wound reopened, bleeding anew.

Rex's hand grips your shoulder, a comforting weight, but the sorrow is a tidal wave, drowning you. It's all too much. The memories, the guilt, the regret. They crash over you, threatening to drag you under, and a sob tears from your lips. You're falling, the darkness consuming you, the void swallowing you whole. You're spiraling out of control, the pain overwhelming, and you can't stop it, can't hold it back. All you can do is cling to the hilt, to her weapon, and hope she can forgive you.

But as you fall to your knees, Rex is there. His arms wrap around you before you can hit the ground, a cry ripping from your throat, and the two of you sink down together, your head pressed against his shoulder.

You bury your face in his neck, the tears flowing freely, your body trembling. His hand finds yours, the one holding her lightsaber, and he entwines his fingers with yours, his other arm tightening around your waist. He's whispering something, his voice soft and soothing, but you can't make out the words, can't focus on anything but the pain. And as Rex holds you, your face pressed against his neck, you let go.

You let the emotions wash over you, the grief and the agony and the remorse. You let the darkness consume you, and you let yourself feel the pain. Because this is what she would have wanted. This is what she would have told you.

To let go. To release the past. To find peace.

So, that's what you do. For the first time in ten years, you let yourself mourn.

You mourn the loss of her, the emptiness in your life, the absence of her guidance, her friendship. You mourn the future that could have been, the bond the two of you shared. The connection that was severed, the wound that will never heal.

It's the most painful thing you've ever experienced, and the agony is a physical thing, clawing at your chest, tearing through your heart. It's the most intense emotion you've ever felt, and it's excruciating, but you don't pull away. You don't hide from it. Instead, you cling to Rex, his arms a steady, reassuring weight around you, and you let yourself feel it. All of it.

"I'm sorry," you gasp, your voice muffled against his armor. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice strained, and his fingers tangle in your hair, holding you tighter against him. "It's not your fault."

"I couldn't...I wasn't...I tried to..." You can't get the words out, can't form a coherent sentence, and your head throbs, the pain blinding. "I couldn't save her."

"You did everything you could," he says. "You didn't fail her. You didn't fail anyone."

You want to believe him, to let his words soothe the ache, but the sorrow is overwhelming, the guilt crushing. And, even as you cry, a part of you feels guilty for showing him this side of you. For letting him see the weakness, the vulnerability. But the truth is, you've been weak for a long time, and he's been there every step of the way.

He's seen your worst, and yet, he's stayed.

"I miss her," you sob, the tears burning hot. "I just..."

"I know," he breathes. His cheek presses against the top of your head, his fingers stroking your hair. "I'm so sorry."

You don't know how long you sit there in the icy cavern, Rex's arms wrapped around you. You cry until there are no tears left, until the sobs turn to hiccups, and the hiccups turn to shuddering breaths. And all the while, Rex is there, his grip never loosening, his voice never wavering.

When the last of the tears have dried, you slump against him. Your body feels heavy, drained, and the lightsaber is a dead weight in your hand, the cold metal leeching what little warmth you have left.

You lift your head, and Rex's gaze meets yours. You're surprised to see his eyes are wet too, his lashes clumped together. His nostrils flare, and he lets out a shaky breath, trying to keep his composure. He gives you a weak smile, and you swallow hard, the words getting stuck in your throat.

"Thank you," you finally manage, and the words come out thick, the tears welling again. "I...I don't know what to say. I didn't expect—"

"Hey," he murmurs as his thumbs wipe away the tears, his touch gentle. "You don't have to say anything. I understand."

You nod, and he pulls you against him, his head resting on top of yours. The two of you fall into another silence, your arms wrapped around each other, the lightsaber clasped tightly in your fist.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps fills the cavern, and you hear the others calling out, their voices echoing around you. Rex pulls away, and he looks over his shoulder, watching as the troopers approach. His body shields you from view, protecting your privacy, and a wave of gratitude washes over you.

"Not yet," he says, his voice stern, and the footsteps stop, hesitating. "We need a few minutes."

"General," Fives calls. "Are you alright?"

"She's fine," Rex answers for you.

"Are you sure? We heard crying."

"She's fine," he repeats, his voice hardening. "Just...give us a minute."

You close your eyes, exhaustion tugging at your limbs, and you rest your head on Rex's shoulder, letting the sounds of his voice soothe you. The others are talking, whispering amongst themselves, but you can't make out the words. You're not sure you want to.

You don't know how long the two of you sit there, but eventually, the voices grow quiet, and you hear the troopers walking away, their footsteps fading into the distance. When they're gone, you open your eyes and stare at the ground, the tears drying on your cheeks.

"You didn't tell them," you say, your voice quiet.

"No," he admits. "I didn't."

"Why?"

"Because," he murmurs. He turns, his hand reaching up, his fingers tilting your chin towards him. Your gazes meet, his eyes soft, and he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "You deserved a moment alone to grieve. Without the others staring."

You nod, and a weak smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, the tears welling once more. He cares so much, cares more than he should, and it warms your heart despite the cold surrounding you.

"Thank you," you whisper, and the words come out strained, your voice cracking.

"It's the least I can do," he replies. Rex lets go of your chin, his hand falling back to his side. "I wish I could do more."

"You're already doing more than enough," you tell him, and you mean it. If not for him, you would have lost yourself completely. The thought terrifies you, but also warms you. He's saved you, time and time again, without even realizing it. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"You could have," he says, his expression earnest. "But I'm glad you didn't have to."

"Me, too," you murmur.

The two of you stay there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the faint drip of water. The air is frigid, the chill seeping into your bones, and you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Come on," Rex says. He gives your shoulder a squeeze, his hand trailing down your arm and coming to a rest on your elbow. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah," you agree, and you let him help you to your feet, your legs shaking. You brush the dirt and grime from your clothes, and then look down at the box, your mouth pulling into a grimace.

"I can't believe he kept it," you mutter, placing the lightsaber back inside, the scrap of fabric on top of it. The lid falls shut, a loud thump echoing around the chamber.

"I'm not surprised," Rex replies, his tone laced with bitterness. He shakes his head, a scowl on his face. "He likes his trophies."

"He's sick," you mutter. The rage is starting to burn inside you again, the pain giving way to anger, a familiar, comforting emotion. "Do you think this was his plan all along? To lure me here?"

"Maybe," he admits, his eyes sweeping the area, his expression hardening. "But that doesn't matter now. What matters is that you have your evidence. You can finally get justice."

"Justice," you repeat. The word tastes like ash in your mouth. You shake your head, your lips pulling into a thin line. "All I want is revenge."

"Revenge won't bring her back," Rex murmurs. His hand rests on your lower back, his warmth seeping through the fabric. "You need to be smarter than that. We can't—"

"I know," you interrupt. "I know we can't."

"If it was up to me..." He trails off, his jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your spine.

"Yeah," you sigh. You reach out and pick up the box, the weight of it heavy in your arms. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and then glance up at him, a wry smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Wishful thinking, right?"

"Wishful thinking," he echoes, and the two of you share a chuckle, the tension in the air easing.

Rex looks at you, a softness in his gaze, and a strange feeling passes between the two of you, the understanding, the acceptance. This war is not about justice, it's not about peace. It's about survival, and the two of you have to fight tooth and nail just to stay alive. But the fact that he's fighting with you, the fact that he's by your side, means everything.

"Come on," he says, and he gently guides you towards the path, his hand lingering on your back.

You nod, and the two of you begin walking, your footsteps echoing around the chamber. You follow the path, Rex's presence steady at your side, and the darkness recedes, the torchlight growing brighter. You can feel the weight of the box in your arms, the pulse of the kyber crystal, the whisper of her Force signature.

Yaddle.

Your Master. Your family.

Gone.

And the one responsible, just out of reach.

But if you can make the Council listen, maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to bring him to justice.

Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

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