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jetii · 9 days ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Eighteen: Reprieve

Chapter WC: 4,936

Chapter Warnings: None this time! Unless you count awkward flirting

A/N: A fluffy chapter? In EH? More likely than you think. I offer you this as recompense for the previous few chapters. 🤲

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

The Council is avoiding you.

Ever since you returned from Kamino, they've been keeping their distance. You've tried to speak with them, but they've either been busy or unavailable, and the excuses are getting more and more flimsy. It's frustrating, and it's only reinforcing your paranoia. You know there's something they aren't telling you. Something big.

But Obi-Wan refuses to discuss it. He'd been just as horrified as you to learn that Dooku was in possession of Yaddle's lightsaber, and his expression had grown grim as you told him about finding it in the Count's estate on Null. You'd even shown him the box, her datapad, the piece of her robe.

He'd been disturbed, and you could tell he was trying to keep his emotions under control as he comforted you. But, even as he held you, you could feel his mind working, his thoughts swirling.

Obi-Wan hasn't said a word about any of it since, and it's driving you crazy.

You've spent the last week trying to build your case. The Council would have to see you eventually, even if you had to storm their chambers. You have evidence now. Proof. There's no way they can deny what happened, not with a Jedi Master's personal effects in your possession. You'll force them to listen.

Right now, you're cross-legged on the floor in your quarters, a bowl of noodles sitting next to you. You chew slowly as you tinker with Yaddle’s datapad, a scowl on your face. It's been smashed beyond recognition, the screen cracked, the keys bent, and the circuits fried.

You've managed to get some information from it, but not nearly as much as you'd hoped. Most of it's garbled, but you've been able to decipher a few things, cross-reference the files with the logs Obi-Wan had given you from the Archives, and fill in the gaps.

She'd been investigating Dooku in her last days. That much was apparent. She'd discovered something about him, and she'd confronted him. It must have been serious, whatever it was, because the Count was not the type of man to be intimidated. Or, maybe he was. Maybe she'd scared him. Scared him enough that he'd killed her.

But what had she found? What had been so important, so damning, that it had led to her murder? Surely not something like the Separatist movement. You can't imagine Dooku killing a Jedi over politics. Not unless he had a very specific reason. Something personal.

And Yaddle's death had not been an accident. You’re sure of it. You know Dooku was involved, and you can only assume he was responsible. But, what was his motive? Was he hiding something? Had Yaddle stumbled across something she wasn't supposed to see?

Your commlink chirps, and you sigh, putting the pad aside. You're about to ignore it, but the familiar number appears on the screen, and you sit up straight, a smile forming.

Rex.

You've been messaging each other for the past couple weeks, exchanging updates and news. At first, the messages had been brief and professional, just a simple hello and how are you. But the messages had gotten longer, the conversations more personal, and you'd found yourself looking forward to hearing from him. He's been busy, leading the 501st through a series of campaigns, but he somehow manages to find the time to send you a message or two.

It's selfish, and you know it, but you've grown closer to him than ever. It's become routine, and the two of you have formed an unspoken agreement. No details, no names, no specifics. Just friendly conversation. Nothing that could be used against you, nothing that could put the other in danger. The war is hard enough, and you need something to keep your sanity. Even if it's only temporary.

And you know Rex needs this, too. He's stressed, and worried, and the war is taking its toll. You can sense it, even through the screen, and it pains you. It's not fair. He's only human, and he doesn't deserve to be caught up in all of this. Neither do you.

So the two of you make it work. And you take solace in knowing that he'll be back on Coruscant within a day or two. The 501st will have some down time while they refit the Resolute with an upgraded hyperdrive, and for once, Rex will have a chance to relax. If you're lucky, you might even be able to see him.

Rex: You've got to stop sending me pictures of kittens. The men are asking questions.

You grin, your mood lightening immediately. You've been sending him pictures of stray tookas that you've encountered on your runs through the city. After a long, hard-fought interrogation, you discovered that Rex is a tooka person. So, naturally, you've been exploiting that.

It's a small, harmless thing, but it's become a source of amusement for both of you. Rex claims he's annoyed, but you can tell he's just being dramatic. It's something normal, something that isn't connected to the war, and you're both grateful for it.

You: Don't tell me you don't like them. That would break my heart.

The response is almost immediate.

Rex: I didn't say that. But one of the men in particular won't stop asking who's sending them, and I can't exactly tell him the truth.

You: You could. Just say they're from a friend. It's not illegal to have friends you know.

Rex: I've already got enough problems. I don't need to add another. I think he's starting to suspect.

You: Suspect what? That you like animals? Scandalous.

Rex: That's not funny.

You: I beg to differ.

Rex: I regret giving you this frequency.

Rex: You're not allowed to send me any more pictures. Of anything.

You: You're no fun. It's not like I've ever sent you anything inappropriate.

You press send without thinking, turning and picking up your bowl, taking another bite. It isn't until you've swallowed and put the bowl back down that the message registers. You freeze, your eyes widening, and you stare at the words, heat creeping up your neck.

Oh.

Oh, no.

That sounded a lot less innocent than it did in your head. You glance at the commlink, waiting for a response, a wave of panic sweeping over you. He's typing, and then the text disappears, only to reappear a second later. The cycle repeats, and you swallow, the silence growing heavier.

Your mind races, and your face is on fire. You didn't mean to imply...it was a joke. It's not like you've been sending him messages like that, or that he'd send them to you, or that either of you have thought about that.

Except, now you are thinking about it.

You groan and run a hand over your face, forcing yourself to calm down. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. Rex is a professional. He's not going to assume you're propositioning him, even if the idea had crossed your mind once or twice. Even if you've teased him, joked around, and, yes, maybe flirted more than you'd ever admit.

This is fine. Everything's fine. It's just a little joke. A little fun. Nothing wrong with that. He'll laugh. Or not. Either way, you can deal with it. This is not the end of the world. You can talk your way out of this. You've done it before. Rex will understand. It's fine.

He's still typing.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, and then your comm starts to buzz, a staccato beat that has your heart leaping into your throat. He's calling.

He's actually calling.

Your eyes go wide, and your pulse races, a rush of adrenaline flooding your body. For a moment, you can't move. You stare at the screen, unable to breathe, and then, a strange calm settles over you, and your hand moves of its own accord, tapping the button. The ringing stops, and you bring the comm to your ear, bracing yourself.

"Hello?"

There's a pause, and then a chuckle, deep and rich, and you shiver, warmth spreading through your body.

"Hi," Rex says. His voice is rough, and there's an edge to it, a husky rasp. It's doing something to you, something that shouldn't happen, but does anyway. "Sorry, I figured this would be easier. My hands are cramping from writing all these reports."

"Oh," you breathe. He's never called before, and it takes you a moment to collect yourself. You're a little surprised by how different it feels. There's a closeness, an intimacy, that isn't present when you're typing, and it's...distracting. You can hear his breathing, his slight sigh, and you can imagine the smile on his face, the dimple in his cheek.

"Is everything okay?" he asks hesitantly, and you blink, snapping back to the present. "You sound..."

"No! No, sorry, everything's fine," you assure him. A nervous laugh escapes you, and you run a hand through your hair. "I was just surprised, that's all. I didn't think you'd call."

"Ah. Sorry, I should've asked first," he says. There's a brief pause, and then he continues, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "If it's too weird, we can just message. It's not a big deal."

"It's fine, Rex. I don't mind. It's actually kind of nice." You lean back against the couch, letting out a small sigh, and you can hear him do the same. "What's up?"

"Nothing, really. I just..." Rex trails off, and you can hear a shuffle of movement, the sound of fabric brushing against the speaker. He's laying down, you realize, and the image of him sprawled out on his bed, the comm nestled against his ear, makes you bite your lip.

"Just what?" you prompt, trying to keep your tone casual. You can hear him inhale, a low sigh, and his voice is softer, quieter, when he speaks.

"I don't know," he mutters. "I guess I just wanted to hear your voice."

The admission takes you by surprise, and your lips part, a lump forming in your throat. You swallow, trying to dislodge the feeling. It's sweet, and unexpected, and it's making you feel things that you can't, and shouldn't, be feeling. But it's not like he's confessing his love or anything. He's just a friend, and friends miss each other. It's nothing.

"Oh." You clear your throat, and you give a small laugh. You close your eyes and lean your head back, pressing the comm closer to your ear, letting the sound of his breathing wash over you. "Well, here I am."

"Here you are," he echoes.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" you ask, a teasing edge to your words. "Kittens? Politics? The weather?"

Rex snorts, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes.

"Maybe not politics," he replies, a smirk in his voice. "I think we're both tired of that."

"True,” you sigh. "Kittens, then?"

"No," he groans. "Absolutely not."

"Fine," you huff. You open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on your lips. "Then, what do you suggest?"

He's silent for a moment, considering.

"How was your day?" he finally asks. "I'm guessing it wasn't nearly as exciting as mine."

You hesitate, and Rex picks up on the pause immediately.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice suddenly sharp, all traces of humor gone.

"Nothing," you assure him. "I'm fine. It was just a rough day."

"That's not nothing." He lets out a soft breath, and you can hear him shifting again. He must be sitting up, because his voice is more distant, and you can no longer hear him breathing. "How's the Council treating you? Still giving you the run around?"

"You could say that," you say, your lips twisting into a frown.

"What's going on?"

You sigh and rub a hand over your face, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your head thumps against the back of the couch, and you glare at the ceiling, trying to keep the anger out of your tone.

"They're avoiding me, Rex," you admit through gritted teeth. Just thinking about it makes you seethe. You've been patient, as patient as possible, but the constant excuses and the blatant disregard for your questions have worn your temper thin. You're tired of being ignored, and it's getting harder and harder to hold back the frustration. "They won't answer my questions, and they're hiding something. I can feel it."

"I'm sorry," he says, and his sincerity soothes some of your irritation. "Any idea what?"

"None." You frown and shift, bringing your knees up and hugging them. "It's driving me crazy. I'm worried that they've found out about our..."

You trail off, unable to say the word. There's no point in hiding it, not when Rex is the one you're talking to, but saying it aloud feels too risky, too dangerous. You can't even put it into words, and the idea that the Council might know scares you more than you'd like to admit.

Rex, however, doesn't have that problem.

"Friendship?" he finishes, and his voice is steady, his tone neutral. "Yeah, I know."

"It's stupid, right? We've been so careful." You groan and rest your chin on your knees, staring at a spot on the floor. "They shouldn't even be paying attention to me, not with everything else going on."

"We're not doing anything wrong," he reminds you, and there's a hint of defensiveness in his words, a sharpness that surprises you. "You have every right to make friends."

"I know. I'm not saying we're doing anything bad. It's just...hard for me to not feel like they’re judging me." You chew on your bottom lip, your fingers clenching around your shins. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm being watched, like they're looking over my shoulder, waiting for me to screw up."

"They're not," he tells you, his voice softening. “They have no reason to. Don't let them get to you, alright? If they're trying to intimidate you, don't fall for it. You've done nothing wrong."

"I know that, and you know that, but why won't they listen to me?" you ask, exasperated. You let out a sigh and slump forward, your chin resting on your knees. "I feel like I'm being punished, but I don't even know what for. All I want is some answers. Is that really so much to ask?"

"No," he agrees. "It's not. Have you talked to General Kenobi? Maybe he can help."

"I tried, but he's being just as stubborn as the rest of them. He keeps saying he can't do anything, that it's not his decision, and I need to be patient." You huff and shake your head. "Like hell."

"I'm sure they'll come around," Rex offers, but his tone is laced with doubt. "They can't ignore you forever. Eventually, they'll have to give in."

"Why?" you scoff. "They didn't care when Yaddle went missing. They did the same thing then. And, now, I have evidence. Actual proof. And I just—"

You pause, the words catching in your throat, and your mouth snaps shut.

The bowl in front of you is rattling, the chopsticks clinking against the rim, and you reach out, steadying the dish with a shaking hand before its contents can slosh onto the datapad. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, and when you speak again, your voice is calmer, steadier.

"Sorry, I'm...sorry," you mumble, ashamed. "I didn't mean to...this is supposed to be relaxing. Forget it."

"No, it's alright," Rex assures you. "I know this has been hard for you."

You swallow and nod, though he can't see you. Your hands fist in your robe, gripping at the material, and you press the comm closer to your ear, as if that will bring you closer to him. His breathing is slow, steady, and you try to mirror it, matching your breaths to his.

"It's fine. I shouldn't be unloading on you like this. It's not fair." You let out a weak chuckle, forcing a note of levity into your tone. "You've got enough to deal with. You don't need my problems."

"Hey."

The word is firm, and his tone makes your chest ache. You swallow and take a deep breath, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill.

"You can talk to me, you know," he says quietly. "And you're allowed to be upset. Even if the Jedi Code says otherwise. I'm not gonna judge."

"That advice sounds familiar," you tease, your fingers tracing the edge of the bowl. "Who said it, again?"

"I don't remember," he lies.

"Uh huh," you murmur, and a faint smile tugs at your lips.

"Yeah, well. It's good advice. And I should probably take it, too." Rex chuckles, his voice dropping as he adds, "I don't always do a great job of it, though."

"Neither do I," you admit with a snort, and you wipe at your eyes, glancing at the datapad next to you. The box sits behind it, the lid open, the lightsaber and cloak visible.

You think of the night on Null, of Rex's arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and how safe and protected you'd felt. The memory is bittersweet, but the thought of his touch still gives you a measure of comfort. And, it's something that could happen again, if you both let it.

"But I think we're doing alright,” you add softly.

"I'd like to think so," he replies, and you can hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Me, too."

"So," Rex begins, his tone gentle. "What do you need, right now?"

The question catches you off guard, and you blink, trying to think of a response. The truth is, you're not sure. There's a part of you that just wants to curl up in bed and cry, or scream, or do something, anything, to make yourself feel better. But, another part, a larger part, wants nothing more than to see him.

You take a deep breath, and then let the air out slowly, your shoulders relaxing.

"This," you confess, and your voice is barely a whisper. "Just this. Just talking."

"Good," he murmurs. "Me too."

"Good," you repeat.

There's a long pause, and you listen to the sound of his breathing, the soft hum of the comm. He's silent, but there's a warmth in the connection, and you can feel the tension leaving your body, the stress and frustration easing. Rex is a comforting presence, a familiar one, and, for the first time in weeks, you feel safe.

The conversation moves easily from there, the two of you talking about everything and nothing. You share stories, jokes, memories, and he listens, his laughter soft and rich. He tells you about his brothers, and you tell him about Obi-Wan, and it feels normal, natural.

It's clear Rex is trying to keep things light, the jokes frequent. He's a good distraction, and you appreciate it. He knows the right things to say, the right moments to be serious, and he knows when to just listen.

And it's easy, falling into the rhythm. He's good company, and the way he speaks is charming, his sense of humor dry and sarcastic. It's exactly what you need. He doesn't try to fix anything, doesn't try to give advice or tell you what to do. He just listens, and talks, and the tension slowly melts away. It's a nice feeling, one that you haven't felt in a while.

Before you know it, hours have passed. You're sprawled out on the floor, a blanket draped over you, and you're staring up at the ceiling, the glow of the city lights spilling through the window. The stars are hidden by the clouds, but the lights are a comfort, and the hum of the traffic fills the room. It's peaceful, and quiet, and you find yourself wishing that Rex was here, next to you. It would be nice, laying here together, watching the lights, talking. Just being.

There's a soft sound, like fabric brushing against the speaker, and then Rex is yawning.

"Sorry," he mutters, his voice muffled. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

You frown, a twinge of guilt in your stomach. "Rex, why didn't you say something?"

He sighs, and there's a rustling noise, the creak of metal as he shifts his weight. You can imagine him in the darkness of his quarters, the soft glow of his datapad illuminating his face, the sheets tangled around his legs.

"Because then you'd hang up," he murmurs, his voice soft, a trace of amusement in his tone. "And I didn't want you to."

The confession is enough to make you pause, and you feel your heart skip a beat, a flush creeping up your neck. You've known, of course, that he's enjoying your conversations, but hearing him say it is something else entirely.

"Yeah?" you say, keeping your tone light.

"Yeah," he replies. "You're...it's nice."

"I don't want to hang up either," you admit, and you hear him hum in acknowledgement. "But, you should get some rest. We've both got long days ahead."

He grunts, and you hear a thud, as if he's tossed something to the floor. "Right."

"Are you going to sleep?" you ask, a hint of suspicion in your voice.

"Yeah. In a minute," he grumbles. "I just need to finish this report."

You scoff and roll your eyes. "Rex."

"Alright, alright," he relents. Rex takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. After a long pause, he speaks, his voice soft. "Are you free tomorrow? Or, well, today, technically. I'll be planetside in the afternoon."

You blink, and a smile tugs at your lips, warmth blossoming in your chest. You roll over onto your side, the blanket falling around you.

"I might be able to squeeze you in," you tease. "Why, did you have something in mind?"

He laughs, and there's a muffled sound, like he's pressed his face against the pillow. You can imagine him sprawled out on his bunk, a hand covering his eyes, his lips pulled into a smirk. The image is more appealing than it should be, and you have to remind yourself that you're not supposed to be thinking about him like that.

"I do, actually," he says slowly. "You can tell me if I'm overstepping, but I called in a few favors, and I have some information about...well, the Council's been avoiding you, and I know you're not going to sit around and wait for them to change their minds..."

You wait, your brows rising. "What?"

Rex pauses, and his voice drops, a hint of nervousness in his tone. "It's just some security footage of the night she went missing. And impound records for a ship. I'm not sure how much of it is useful, but it's something. Maybe it'll help."

Your heart skips a beat, and you sit up, the blanket pooling in your lap. You stare down at the comm, your eyes wide, your pulse racing.

"You what?" you breathe, barely able to speak.

"I didn't mean to pry, but...I was curious. And, I thought, maybe you'd be able to use it. I figured if I didn't try, I'd regret it," he explains, and there's a note of trepidation in his voice. He's speaking faster now, the words coming out in a rush. "It's probably not helpful, and I didn't want to get your hopes up, but—"

"Rex," you say, and he falls silent. You close your eyes, trying to process the information. This is not what you were expecting, and the sudden burst of excitement is giving way to a strange mix of confusion and shock. You let out a breath, your shoulders slumping. "I...Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he mutters. "It could be a bust. It's probably a bust. But, if you want it, it's yours."

You can’t help but smile slightly, and you run a hand through your hair, the locks slipping between your fingers.

"When did you find time to do this?" you ask, trying to picture him searching through files and archives while he was in the middle of a battle. He must have pulled a lot of strings, called in a lot of favors, just to get this information. And, he did it for you. Just because he thought it might help.

"Ah, here and there," Rex replies casually. "I've been working on it for a while, but I had some help from a friend."

"A friend, huh?" You hum, and you pull the blanket around your shoulders, hugging your knees. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"It's worth it," he says, and the conviction in his voice makes your chest ache.

You swallow, and you stare at your hands, a lump forming in your throat. He's not even trying to be charming, and he's making you weak. You can't remember ever feeling this way, and it scares you. He scares you. How can someone make you feel so much, with only a few words?

"Well, thank you," you murmur, not knowing what else to say. "Seriously. I mean it. You have no idea what this means to me, Rex. I don't know how I can repay you."

"You can buy me lunch," he quips. "That'll work."

You snort. "That's it? That's all you want?"

"Yeah. Unless there's something else you're offering."

Rex gives a low laugh, and your breath catches, a shiver running down your spine. The comment is innocent, but the way he says it makes your heart race, the words sending a flurry of images through your mind. You bite your lip, the flush spreading up your neck.

"We'll see," you manage, your voice steady. "You'll have to ask nicely."

There’s a beat of silence, and you can practically hear him thinking, his brain working. He doesn't respond right away, and you wait, listening to him breathe. The tension is thick, and your pulse races, and, just when you're about to say something, his voice crackles through, deep and rough.

"Um, right." He clears his throat, and you hear him shift, his sheets rustling. "I'll...keep that in mind."

You can't help but smirk, a small chuckle escaping your lips. His reaction is exactly what you were hoping for. You only wish you could see his face and the blush that is no doubt spreading across his cheeks.

"You do that." You sigh and sit up, stretching your arms over your head. You catch sight of the chrono and grimace. It's late, later than you'd thought. The two of you have been talking for a few hours, and the time has flown by.

"I should go," you say reluctantly, and he lets out a noise of disappointment. "I'm sorry I kept you up. You should get some rest."

"No, I'm glad we talked." His voice is warm, and you can hear the smile in his words. "It was worth the lost sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sounds good."

"And, uh...just be careful, alright?" Rex hesitates, and you hear him take a deep breath, as if he's trying to steady himself. "Promise me. I've got a bad feeling about this, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"I can take care of myself," you protest, but there's no heat behind it. You can't bring yourself to be annoyed, not when he sounds so worried. It's endearing, really. And, a little annoying, but mostly sweet.

"I know you can,” he sighs. “Just humor me."

"Okay," you relent. You offer a reassuring smile, despite the fact that he can't see you. "I promise."

"Good."

There's another long pause, and neither of you seem to want to hang up. The silence is comfortable, and there's a warmth in it, a closeness. You find yourself wanting to stay like this, with him, just listening. It feels nice. And safe.

"Sleep well, Rex," you murmur, your voice quiet.

"You too." He yawns again, and you can hear him moving, rolling over. His voice is muffled when he speaks, his words barely audible. "Goodnight."

You wait, your eyes fluttering shut, and you press your forehead against your knees, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Night," you whisper.

The line goes dead, and you put your commlink aside on the floor. You exhale, letting out a slow breath, and you lay back, your hands clasped on your stomach. You feel giddy, light, and you can't remember the last time you felt this way. It's a foreign feeling, but it's nice, and you want to hold onto it for as long as possible.

You should be mad, you think. The Council is withholding information from you, and they're ignoring you, and it's frustrating beyond words. It's the last thing you expected, and it's not fair.

But Rex has made it his personal mission to help you. He's gone above and beyond, and he did it without hesitation, without you ever asking him for it.

It's a risk. If anyone finds out, there will be consequences, for both of you. He could lose his position, his reputation. His loyalty to the Republic could be questioned. And, for what? A woman he's known for little more than a year, a Jedi Master, no less. It's foolish. He could get into a lot of trouble, and yet, he did it anyway. For you.

It's a kind act, and the best gift you could've received. And it means more to you that you could ever put into words.

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